Category Archives: kid

an old-fashion (long)house tour

The Hubs Kid had a project recently at school. They spent a unit learning about local Native American traditions, and students all took home paper to be cut and colored into a traditional longhouse.

Naturally, leaving it at paper was not going to happen in the Hubs’ universe in this house, especially since the Hubs is Alaskan and has seen actual longhouses and known actual people who lived in them.

In light of all the screaming and crying good, detailed work that went into it, it seems only fair to have a house tour….
Nice curb appeal, yes?
Side angle, with space for gardening. Must be dinner time… Notice the tiny hide?
This is the kind of attention to detail that makes the Hubs say, “Argh, I can barely sleep around the lousy paint job they did in this vacation rental,” while I say, “What paint?”
Every longhouse with a girl in it totally had one of these outside.
Like the smoke? After much debate about how to create a tiny smoke machine, I convinced him that perhaps a third grade teacher would be happier with air-brushed cotton.

All in all, a fabulous job, you guys!!

Although I’m a little nervous at what might get created here with the upcoming unit on the Sasquatch…

Not My Idea, and yet Somehow Still Entertaining

Here’s usually what happens when someone suggests a blog idea for me:

Them: Oh my God, this is so hilarious! You should totally put this on your blog!

Me: silently smiles & nods

Me to myself: Yeah, that is now a thing that will never be on my blog.

Well, there’s always an exception to prove the rule and here it is. I present Mishka, the talking dog. Please enjoy.

Not to toot my own horn too much more than usual, but I happen to do an excellent impersonation (imdogation?) of Mishka talking. But this galaxy doesn’t need that video floating around for infinity scaring the little alien babies…

Kid, you’re welcome.

Girly Cupcakes

Just so you know, the Hubs said I shouldn’t blog about this, so Hello! You’d think he’d have learned by now….

This post is brought to you by Facebook and its new anti-privacy rules, because it was a friend of a friend who I have never heard of who posted this photo and my friend, a guy I actually do know, “liked” it.

Which apparently means the whole world gets to see it now, in case you just got out of that coma don’t know Facebook is raping you daily, right now.

Hold onto your britches. Take a gander at the girly cupcakes:
Puts new meaning in the term variety pack, eh?

Okay, focus, readers. Are ya with me? I posted this because I want to ask if you think it was would be outrageoushorrendousdisgusting of me to show this photo to my eight-year-old daughter?

Purely, a hypothetical question, Mrs. Child Protective Services, for the purposes of discussion.

I mean, if I did, I wonder if my child would guess right away what she was looking at or needed a hint from me.

I wonder if she’d then drop her jaw first, and then with a twinkle in her eye, her own drawers to show me hers as comparison to the frosted ones.

I also wonder if young girls should possess a relaxed, secure knowledge of their amazing, delicious cupcakes body.

Purely hypothetical, ya’ll. Don’t go get your panties in a–oh, never mind.

What do you think? Would you show a daughter and not a son? Is age a factor?

This is the kind of thing that happens when lawyers are mommies.

[“Dear tooth fairy, I lost my tooth that I lost today. I am really sorry that its not here….We swear the above statement is true.”]

During the holidays, the Kid was inconsolable at losing the tooth she had just lost, so I suggested a letter to the tooth fairy (btw, Santa she is beginning to question, but the tooth fairy…this is more believable?), and all the adults would swear it was true. No, we had no notary, but it calmed her anyway. We hoped the tooth fairy would go on the honor system.

And she did! Whew! Close one!

Reality v. Fantasy, My Brief (& Final) Attempt at Teaching

I have a dear nutcase friend who recently suggested that several of us mothers take their daughters after school on a rotating basis and teach them…something.

I agreed even though like you readers have been saying I don’t really know anything.

But the other moms desperate for their own kids to be at my house after school pointed out that I took pictures and uploaded them, and therefore that made me a third-grader version of a camera expert.
Commence fantasizing.

Oh, imagine the fun we could have, the tricks we could do, the magazine-cover-worthy pictures we’d take, the utter fascination they would express for my pixelicious brilliance!

Key word: imagine.

Yes, my imagination often burns my ass like an Ibiza nude beach gets me into trouble. Particularly when reality quickly comes stampeding through the living room of my mind.

These girls, especially the one I bore, were utterly fascinated by photography. For 2.3 seconds minutes. Until they finished taking pictures of my everyone’s butt.

Then they needed more pumpkin bread. And some “not boring” play time.

Sure, I corralled them as best I could to look legit when their moms came. I even got a few shots of what looks like engaged photography students.
In fact, they were eager to take wildlife shots, which was only accomplished one way by my pack of wild, squealing third graders: dog treats.
Yes, fantasy and reality meshed especially well during photography class for one particular family member.
Um, say….when’s the next class?Have you ever tried to teach something to a pack of kids? I recommend leaving it to the professionals. They’re called that for a reason.