Awhile back, I got in to an email tag-jag with my cousin (I think I just invented a phrase). We started passing ebay listings back and forth featuring our favorite/most memorable childhood toys. I had this one…

http://cgi.ebay.com/Mattel-1974-Growing-up-skipper-doll-NRFB-Look_W0QQitemZ200177971101QQihZ010QQcategoryZ15963QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem#ebayphotohosting

I wish like crazy I’d have kept her. Growing up Skipper (there was also a Growing Up Ginger). The running joke was my Dad would grab my mom’s arm and start cranking, hoping for results. I’m thinking I ought to invent a Pre-Menopausal Skipper. You crank her arm, her hair turns gray, her gut sticks out and all she does is laundry. Whatdya think?

Robin

WARNING: This post is not for the feint of heart. 

He’s home! We can have edible food again! Here’s what happened with my camera while the dh was gone.

The kids have named him Sparky. I think it’s supposed to be ironic. Like calling a bald buy Curly.

Sooooo, we will have meat. See, now in my neighborhood, nothing brings the menfolk around like hangin’ deer. Seriously, we’ve had a steady stream of neighbor/in-law viewings since my husband brought it home. Woot!

Robin

P.S. The title was a “Little House” reference, in case I was being too vague

I may have mentioned, I teach at E.M.U. In my program (paralegal studies), we have a variety of different students. Many are “non-traditional” in the sense they are my age or older and are embarking on a second career. The other half are more traditional, twenty-something co-eds. I find it a really stimulating mix as their viewpoints and politics are diverse. Generally, I do keep the political stuff out of the classroom, but evey once in awhile, someone will speak passionately about something and it can spark engaging and lively debates. We are in the middle of one now and though my job may be on the line by taking a side on this, I feel my integrity–no–our national identity is at stake.

I think Marie Osmond should win Dancing with the Stars.

I know, I know, she is not the most technically skilled dancer. Helio and  Mel B. have her on that. But…she’s Marie Effing Osmond!!! Come on!!!!

I wanted to BE her. I had every purple/pink tattered lame gowned doll. Every record. Donny is great too and they put him on the cover of Tiger Beat, but I never loved him in that way. I mean…he was my brother!

My Grandma Kordowski used to make us microphones out of clothespins, tin foil and twine. My sister and I would stand in front of her console stereo and belt out “I’m leaving it all up to you-o-o-0″ while the family threw money at us (ok, not at us…but to us).

The young kids, they don’t understand. They see flashy Mel B. and Maks, cute pixie Julianne. They think the dancing matters.

I argue that if it wasn’t for Marie Osmond, there would be no Dancing with the Stars. The cheesy-glittery-family-variety show line of descent goes from Sid Ceaser and Milton Burle DIRECTLY to Donny and Marie.

We owe her this. Mel B. has the Spice Girls (and frankly, the Osmonds paved the way for them too). Helio…he’ll always be cute.

Marie. It’s about respect. It’s about teeth and dimples. It’s about time.

Robin

(P.S. Having said all of that, the dancing doll creeped me out too.)

UPDATE: What????!!!?? I’m just sayin’. What, Helio??? I love the guy, don’t get me wrong. I even understand how it finally went down w/ Marie. But WHAT????? M & M was robbed!!!!!!!

… What???!!!!!

Disclaimer: This post would be more impactful with photos, I realize. However, the dh in question took my camera on the hunting trip in question…ergo, no photos. Just try to imagine and compare…a photo of professional-quality looking crap vs. actual crap.

 We have a tradition in our household. When my husband goes hunting, the kids get to plan our dinner menu. Most of the time, it’s McDonald’s. Occasionally though, they want home cookin’ of the Hamburger Helper variety. They are partial to “Beef Stroganoff” (warning: I feel an attack of overuse of “quotes” elipses, and parentheticals coming on).They wanted to mix it up tonight, however and have “Taco Dinner.” I don’t actually know what’s in “Taco Dinner,” but there’s hamburger, rice, “sauce mix” and taco chips. Yum.

Well, first problem is the skillet I was using, I think, had something stuck in the bottom of it. (It couldn’t possibly be that I actually burned anything). Smoke…everywhere. Billowing. The end product looked like a cross between wet dog food and…well…dry dog food but with taco chips on top and a powdery cheese mixture. But, I’m nothing if not persistent. And, I employ the same cooking technique as every other woman in my family. If the smoke alarm doesn’t go off, it’s a success (seriously, you don’t wanna know how many cell phone chargers I’ve melted because I usually use my flat-top stove as a counter). We ate it. They loved it. Blech.

Again, I would love to add photos of our fine dining experience. Instead, I’ll have photos of whatever kill the dh brings home. One of my favorite ways to torment him is when he calls home. I always ask, “Did you catch any deer today?” He loves that. He so needs to get back here, for the welfare of our childrens’ colons.

Robin

First up…our Thanksgiving table. I think I’m going to start a regular feature here on Befrazzed. Something like “Holiday Decorating Ideas from Big Lots.” With the exception of the plates and glassware, everything on this table came from the Big Lots bargain bin last year. My daughter contributed the Native American theme.

Also…this is what we ate.

I kid. We ate the squirrel, not the boy.

And finally, I include this because I just like it.

Cheers,

Robin

Those who frequented my old blog know that I’m not one to wax sentimental, at least not often or for very long. But, yesterday was pretty special. I spent Wednesday evening at Detroit Metro with the kids and members of my husband’s family waiting for his brother to return home.

His brother is Army Sgt. Dan Dec and he was returning home after nearly a year and a half in Iraq. Frankly, the turkey we’re making seems pretty much irrelevant. (don’t worry mom…I’m stilling making it!) I’m thankful that Danny is home safe and I can’t help but think and pray for everyone else who isn’t.

Here are some photos of our evening at the airport (They’re not great…I apologize. Still working out the new camera). I wish I could take credit for the flags and signs, those were courtesy of Danny’s mom and my sister-in-law. My contribution to the bells and whistles homecoming was to help facilitate a news crew  (or try here if that didn’t work, go to the “video player” and click on Happy Homecoming)waiting back at the house (You will find…we do nothing half-assed in this family…whole-assed all the way!)

I hope we didn’t overwhelm the boy too much. I think he appreciated it. I hope the kids remember welcoming him home for the rest of their lives. He flew commercial and we waited in the terminal for about an hour. As you can see from the pix, we weren’t exactly inconspicuous. People waited with us. Busy as they were, they had familes of their own and places to be, but there was a small group of complete strangers who waited anyway. One woman was tearing up even before he got off the plane. “I think I’m just as excited as you are,” she said. Even after their own family members had disembarked their respective flights, they hung around. They wanted to see a soldier’s homecoming and I am thankful for that too. He deserved it.

 (This photo is blurry, but I was trying to show how big he looked compared to my daughter)”

Happy Thanksgiving and I promise to return to the snark next time

Robin

It is my sister’s fault.

She bought my daugher her first pair of Webkinz pets. “Sure,” I casually said when she asked if I thought it was a good idea. Now, I doubt there is anyone with little kids out there (mine are 7 and 5 respectively) who doesn’t know what a Webkinz is, but just in case… You buy a stuffed animal. The animal has a code on the tag. You go the the Webkinz website, enter the code and “adopt” your animal. Your child can then (via their newly adopted pet) play online games, make friends, go to work, feed and buy stuff with virtual Webkinz money called KinzCash. They start you out with a hefty dollar balance in the beginning.

It was all fine.

My daughter got started with her two new puppies. For arguments’ sake, let’s just call them Spanky and Stinky. We promptly set Stinky and Spanky up in their online house and bought them furniture and clothes (can’t be naked or homeless in Webkinz World for criminey Pete!)

It wasn’t long before my son got into it and we needed to purchase him his own pet. A red-eyed tree frog named, say Bumpy. Bumpy, Stinky and Spanky got along swimmingly well. My children were good for at least an hour of Utopian sibling harmony as they painted fences, delivered newspapers, worked at the local Webkinz Diner, solved pattern puzzles like “Goober’s Lab” and “Cash Cow” (not to be confused with Cash Cow2). They happily built their KinzCash bank accounts. They challenged each other to Rock, Paper, Scissor and Battleship tournaments. They furnished their houses. They treated their pets to lavish dinners. They bought Halloween costumes and went virtual trick or treating. It was sunshine and roses, happy joy!

Until the KinzCash ran out.

They asked for help. Fine, I thought. No problem. I’ll just get on there with them and solve some of the games/puzzles quickly to get them more KinzCash, then I’ll get out.

That was the plan. I realize now that I was merely enabling them (or maybe they were enabling me…I don’t yet have enough distance to know which). But, it was always more, more, MORE! Bumpy needs a new stove. We have to plant a garden, get an in-ground pool, a trampoline…Stinky wants to go to Art School.

Things got really bad one weekend when my husband called home. He was on his way back from a hunting trip and stopped at a Cracker Barrel. “They have those Webkinz things here. I thought that’d make a good souvenir. What do you think? What about a tiger and another frog?”

“Sure.” That’s what I said. I was thinking more along the lines of, Crap! Ok. We’ll need a bigger Webkinz Kitchen. Right now we can only seat four. We’ll just have to build a new one. It’ll be pricey, but worth it. We’ll convert the old kitchen into a guest room. Now Stinky and Spanky will have a place to sleep when they spend the night at Bumpy’s.

My kids were excited about the remodeling plans and we went to the Webkinz shop to scope supplies before Daddy got home. I logged on with my son. We were debating whether to put in a wood vs. vinyl tile virtual floor. I’d learned that the boy needed help with his decor choices. Left to his own devices, he’d decorate Bumpy’s house like his Dad’s college apartment. Bean bags, a leather recliner next to striped rattan patio furniture…posters of dogs playing poker…

I did a double take when Bumpy’s avatar finally loaded. $32! How does he only have $32??? There was over $3,000 in there yesterday!

“What have you been spending your money on?”

“Just some stuff I wanted,” he shrugged me off. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes.

“What stuff?” KinzCrack? Hookers?

Before he could grab the mouse, I clicked in to Bumpy’s room. If he’d indulged in seedier vices, the frog had cleaned up after himself. As it was, the green guy practically tripped over six leapfrog end tables, four decorative pirate ship wheels, FIVE GUITARS!!!

“Honey,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. “What about your new kitchen? We can’t afford it now.” (I tried not to think of how long it took me to make it to level 15 of Goober’s Lab just so we’d have enough money for our existing fridge.)

“I want that stuff!” He almost yelled it, clearly sensing my mood. “I want it. I want it ALL!”

I pushed myself away from the keyboard. I let go. “Ok, but you’re on your own this time. I can’t play anymore Cash Cow.” (Even as I sit here, I can still see those little pastel bottlecaps if I close my eyes.) “Just…just make sure to keep spinning the Wheel of Wow to get your daily prize. You have to do it every day. Your pets…they don’t love themselves y’know.”

“I know, Mom,” he answered. “I know.”

I walked away. It’s been a few days since I’ve been in there. But, I’ve heard reports from my daughter that Bumpy and his new frog friend are doing okay. They take their meals in lawn chairs over a gray cement floor, but they have each other…and five guitars.

Next time people, please just buy the kids an ACTUAL puppy!

Love, Robin

Yesterday morning, as you all know, the power went out at about 9:30. I was at home with my 5 year old daughter. She was playing in her room with her horses (she’s a freak about horses…big time). Lights go off.

 She: What are we gonna do!!!????

Me: Well, let’s wait a minute and see if it comes back on.

She: Oh no!!! This is a disaster. (she preceeded to run around the house flipping all of the switches and flushing the toilets…she was happy to report the toilets were unaffected)

Me: Well, let’s just call Beepa (her name for my Dad) and go over there.

The real crisis, little did she know, was that if my blow dryer wasn’t working, we were in deep trouble.  Well, we stopped at the school on the way to see if they had power. They did not. The kids were fine though and I could hear some of them in the hall yelling, “This is the best day of school ever!!!” I asked if anyone there knew what was going on. There was some talk that maybe a squirrel got in a transformer. Meanwhile, my daughter was getting more worried. It was her turn for show and tell later in the day and if there was no power, no one would be able to see her Webkinz (more on them later).

Me: Hon, it’s going to be fine. We’ll just get in the car and go over to Beepa’s.

She: But the stop lights aren’t working, how are you not going to crash?

Me: Trust me. (though admittedly, she kind of had a point)

I decided to take another tact because she was clearly getting REALLY worried about this power situation and also had NO faith that I was going to be able to deal. (er…meanwhile…we were now in the CAR on the way to my Dad’s). I went for “teachable moment.”

Me: Listen, this is just like that story we were reading last summer. Remember, Mary and Laura on the prairie (Um…forgive the creative license. I don’t recall the Ingalls family ever driving in a Mercury Villager down Jackman Rd.)

She: Oh no!!!! OH NO!!!

Me: What now??

She: (near tears) Are you going to make me play with that pig’s guts? I don’t want to play with that pig’s guts!

Me: Huh?

Then it dawned on me. Yes, in Little House in the Big Woods, there is a chapter where Pa shoots a wild pig and after doing other things to it, he fashions a ball by blowing air into the dried pig’s bladder and gives it to the girls. It’s a real treat. Luckily for all, there was power at my parents’ house. She got to have a 21st century Kid Cuisine and I got to blow dry my hair. There was light for show and tell, people. There was light.

Of course, later I overheard her explaining everything to her brother.

She: You know! There was a squirrel. It turned into a transformer and took out all the power!

All righty! Let this serve as my inaugural blog. So, let me ’splain…no, there is too much…lemme sum up. I’m a late 80’s graduate of BHS. My husband and I have likewise been together since the Reagan Administration (See Exhibit A) and we have two deeply cute, charming though occasionally boogery children. Way more on them later. I’m an attorney and a paralegal instructor at E.M.U. Ergo, I routinely answer to Mommy, Professor, hey you, and the Other Sister (See Exhibit B under my blogroll).  I only REALLY get mad when someone calls me ma’am at say, the grocery store. I’ll be posting on all of the above basically, because I can’t scrapbook to save my life!

Exhibit A:

Cheers!

 Robin