Slap Happy

We enjoy watching NCIS around here. The Man and DSguy walk around the house, affectionately “Gibbs-slapping” each other upside the back of the head. Monkey Boy has gotten in on the NCIS action, too.

                                                

Now Monkey Boy is non-verbal, but does sometimes come up with single words or close approximations. We noticed once that some of the things Monkey Boy was saying sounded really close to the names of some NCIS characters. He said things like happy (Abby), ma-gee (McGee), and something that resembled “Gibbs.” Do we think he was paying attention to NCIS? No, but that’s beside the point.

Figuring Monkey Boy was on a roll, The Man decided to go for a long shot. He introduced another character name, waiting to see if Monkey Boy would bite.

“DiNozzo,” The Man would say, hoping to cajole Monkey Boy into saying it. “DiNozzo. DiNozzo!”

Nothing.

He tried again. “DiNozzo…DiNozzo…DuhhhhNoooozzo!”

Monkey Boy finally popped his dad on the schnoz as if to say, “De nose is on your face!”

I think Monkey Boy just invented the “DiNozzo-slap.”

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A Brag and Light It Up Blue

A quick brag before I go on…DSguy won the county spelling bee and will be advancing to the state spelling bee! I see a road trip in our future…

It’s almost April—and you know what that means—Autism Awareness Month! I’d like to draw your attention to it early because World Autism Awareness Day falls early in the month—April 2, to be exact. This year marks the fifth annual celebration.

Autism Advocacy group Autism Speaks sponsors a special event to mark World Autism Awareness Day. It’s called Light It Up Blue. Light It Up Blue is a global awareness initiative, meant to “shine a light on autism.” How can you help? Replace your outdoor lights with blue light bulbs for the day. When someone asks about your blue lights, tell them about autism or direct them to the Autism Speaks website.

Iconic landmarks around the world have lit it up blue, including the Empire State Building, the Sydney Opera House, Niagara Falls, and Christ the Redeemer in Brazil. I’m planning to light it up blue, too. In fact, I may do it for the entire month of April. I hope you’ll join me!

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Spelling Champ

Last week DSguy competed in the regional spelling bee. On the way to the event, we squeezed in a little last minute studying and said a prayer for DSguy to do his best.

He was up against about 16 other students in grades 4-6. The Man and I sat in the audience with bated breath, waiting to see if all that studying paid off. You know, it’s hard being in a spelling bee. I remember doing them when I was a kid. My Mom was never able to watch me do them—it was too nervewracking for her. Being a mom now myself, I can understand why. I think The Man and I were almost as nervous for DSguy as DSguy must have been!

As each word came, we clutched each other’s hands, our eyes boring holes into DSguy from the audience. Would he spell it correctly? Yes! We could breathe again. This went on for awhile, clutch-bore-breathe, clutch-bore-breathe, bearing a strange resemblance to Lamaze exercises. Finally, the playing field was narrowed down to three competitors.

DSguy was left on the stage with a boy and a girl, all hoping for the coveted first place. The boy went first. His word was “Albuquerque.” He spelled it, but somewhere in there he accidentally snuck in a “k.”

“I’m sorry, the correct spelling is a-l-b-u-q-u-e-r-q-u-e,” the proctor said.

DSguy’s hand went up.

“Yes?”

“Um, that should be capitalized,” DSguy corrected. Light laughter broke out in the auditorium. Oh, to have been able to see the proctor’s face at that moment.

Perhaps they should have asked DSguy to spell “precocious” for his next word. They didn’t, but maybe they will this Saturday when he competes again at the county level.

Congratulations on your first place win, DSguy! See? Studying really does pay off!

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Erma on Cooking

I love Erma Bombeck. She was truly an every-woman humorist. I love reading her takes on the day-to-day things of life, as she always knew how to see the funny in them. On occasion, I will share Erma quotes with you on this blog. Like today.

Today’s Erma-ism:

“When it comes to cooking, five years ago I felt guilty ‘just adding water.’ Now I want to bang the tube against the countertop and have a five-course meal pop out. If it comes with plastic silverware and a plate that self-destructs, all the better.”

Ain’t that the truth? Instant food, although not great for one’s health, is a busy mom’s best friend. If I had to cook everything from scratch, I fear my family would die of starvation. It’s not that I can’t cook, it’s that anything that takes more than 15 minutes or involves more than one course is asking for trouble. It’s hard enough to get a boxed side dish and a canned vegetable heated up without Monkey Boy getting into the raw ground beef that’s sitting in the skillet waiting to be browned.

It’s those convenience foods, like the biscuits in a tube that save my sorry gourmet-challenged butt.

The Man can’t stand those tubes. That “pop” noise that happens when the can is being opened freaks him out. Even if steak and lobster were popping out of that can, he wouldn’t want to be around for the unveiling. He leaves the job to me, the mighty can-hunter. Me kill biscuits.

I think Erma was on to something with those self-destructing plates. No washing dishes. What is it about my guys that they don’t rinse off their plates when they’re done eating? Don’t they know that not rinsing makes it exponentially harder to clean the gunk off the dishes later? I suppose I should be thankful that the dishes make it to the sink at all. Monkey Boy is learning to throw away what’s left on his plate when he’s finished, and sometimes the plate lands in the trash, too. That’s OK. He’s making progress. At least it’s off the table!

Maybe it’s time to make DSguy wash the dishes. We tried that once. He was a dishwasher with three speeds—slow, slower, and stop. I might be better off waiting for self-destructing plates to be invented. Either way, I’ll have a long wait on my hands.

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Middle Age

Once upon a long time ago, DSguy asked me a rather unremarkable question.

“Mom, what year were you born in?”

I told him.

He replied, “Is that in the Old Testament?”

Maybe it was a run-of-the-mill question, but the answer sure packed a wallop!

Sometimes I wonder what exactly constitutes being middle aged. I mean, I consider myself in that category, but what is the standard, anyway?

• DSguy apparently once thought I was an ancient relic of Biblical proportions.
• The Man says that I’m pretty darn close to middle aged, citing currently recognized human life expectancies as proof. Simple division. How methodical.
• A gal pal who is a bit older than I am says I’m still a spring chicken.

Wikipedia says middle age can be anywhere from 35-65, depending on which source you ask. That’s quite a spread, and yes, I fall in that range.

Just for argument’s sake, let’s say Wikipedia and The Man are correct and I am officially middle aged. I’m OK with that. It means I’m growing in wisdom and restraint, as is evidenced by the fact that DSguy is still alive after that Old Testament comment.

Lord help me if he ever decides to ask about menopause.

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M.I.A.

Long time no see! I have a long list of excuses why I haven’t written in awhile, but they’re all lame. True, but lame.

So I missed the end of Patty Wysong’s meme. I almost made it through the whole alphabet…I petered out at T. Lemme see if I can come up with a Reader’s Digest version of the last few letters. A last ditch effort to complete what I started.

U – Ubiquitous – What I need to be in order to get everything done that I’ve been trying to get done.
V – Valiant – The effort I’ve put in trying to get everything done.
W – Whiny – What I’ve sometimes been while trying to get everything done.
X – Nope. I’ve got nothin’. Xylophone just doesn’t cut it.
Y – Yearning – As in, yearning to write again.
Z – Zealous – What I hope I am in the new year when it comes to my writing.

There. I finished. Really late, but better late than never.

DSguy and I are in a theater production of “A Christmas Story” right now. We’re halfway through the run, and then I’m hoping I will be more active on this, my poor, neglected blog. Meanwhile, enjoy the season, and don’t shoot your eye out.

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Quarantine!

Quarantine! At least that's how it's been feeling for the last few days. On Thursday, DSguy had a sudden outbreak of six red dots, right in his armpit and on his chest. He’d had a headache the day before. Uh-oh. We thought we might be looking at a breakthrough bout with chicken pox. Off to the doctor we went. By this time, DSguy had a sore throat, too. Thankfully, the good doc said it wasn’t the pox—most likely an insect bit him or something poked him. So all that for a mosquito buffet? Yup. The doc said there might be a virus causing the sore throat and headache, but nothing to worry about at this point. Whew!

Fast-forward to Friday morning. I went to wake DSguy up for school (which is a trick in and of itself), and he had a fever and a gunky nose. There’s the virus. So DSguy has been under quarantine since Friday. He comes out to use the bathroom and occasionally sneaks out to check on what The Man is doing on the computer, but that’s about it. Poor kid is stir crazy. He’s chomping at the bit to play on the computer. Thankfully, he’s on the upward swing. Unless his fever decides to make an encore performance this afternoon, it’s back to school with him tomorrow!

Beats being quarantined.

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