Why do British people never sound British when they sing?

I have always wondered.....

Some bits and pieces o' Random.
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Despite my last post that made me sound like I am Scrooge McGrinch over here, that is not the case. This year, my family has gotten all cheapish with the adults and as such, gentle reader, fear not for the children. Besides, as anyone who hangs out with me knows, each Christmas and Birthday, I obsess endlessly over what to buy my kids. Not because they care, mind you, but rather, I want to get them a toy or two that will have ample Entertainment Mileage and that they will play with for a long time. It has absolutely nothing to do with fulfiling some special magical dreamy desire on their part but it has absolutely everything to do with me. It would like to get my money's worth and perhaps, even a moment of peace. To boot, this year has a Special Challenge - the Ultimate Toy that will bring my children together as they peacefully play in harmony as angels sing on high while I drink my wine and watch my stories. Thus far, I have rolled the dice on a play kitchen and I am on the hunt for another thing or two that they might both like. And that will be it, save for a few stocking stuffers.

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Speaking of holidays, the Cool Mom Picks Holiday Gift Guide is pretty awesome. I do not normally read this site, but came across the link and thought it was useful. Wow - there are some great thoughtful yet, affordable ideas in there. (Note: They are also holding some sort of contest. Notice how lazy I am that I did not bother with it.)

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I HATE naps. There, I said it. Arun is finally over his nap, thank goodness, because it was seriously messing with his nighttime sleep. I wish Anjali would give hers up as well. Neither of my kids are good nappers and it is usually more effort than it is worth to get them down. When or if they ever went down at the same time, I usually spent the entire time biting my nails waiting for one of them to get up. It is not like I ever felt I could that time to start a project, say, fixing our toilet or regrouting our tile. Argh.

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I love, LOVE fruit juice, but consider it a waste of calories and money. Worthless. At home, the kids drink water or milk (soy and bovine.) However, after waging a bloody war with Arun in attempting to get him to take the Nastiest Antibiotic Known to Man, I found a juicebox that masks the Nastiness. However, this Friday, Arun will done with the Nastiness as will access to the beloved juicebox. This could get interesting.

What did she say, Mama?

Me: Fork. She said "fork", Arun.

Only, except that she did not say "fork" and someone around here needs to clean up her act. And soon.

Oh, and speaking of speaking toddlers, let me say this: the ability of a toddler to speak well does not stave off tantrums. Oh No, It Does Not. I had often heard that one reason toddlers throw tantrums, is that they have difficulty communicating and this leads to frustration and this leads to tantrums. Um, no. What happens when your toddler can speak clearly and decisively is that she proceeds to get super annoyed with you because damn it, woman! Did you not hear her clearly shriek "want" and "puppy" as you dragged her howling through the toy store? Hell's bells, she even jabbed her pointer finger in the direction of said puppy, you moron. Speaking clearly only serves to frustrate her even more because she knows that you know very damned well exactly and precisely what She Wants Right Now.

So, yes. It appears I am going to finally get a normal toddler. One who has no patience and throws tantrums. Even though Arun was a late talker, his temperament was such that he could usually be distracted or comforted before anything escalated into a Category 5 status. Anjali? Is a different sort of beast. I would lying if I did not admit that we are fairly tickled with her attitude, though. I never wanted a shrinking violet for a daughter but then again, you know what they say about being cautious during your wishing process. *gulp*

In other news, I had a weird mental freakout this weekend and am embarrassed that Jodifur got to hear about it. Sorry about that. Yikes.

This economy crunch has not really hit us directly (yet?!?), but I am very worried for some folks that I love dearly. I am also very conscious of what we have and how fortunate we are. I have bagged up two sacks of food to donate to a local food pantry and will drop it off today. I am also pondering what to do for the holidays. I want to do something that will get Arun directly involved, even if it is just picking out something he can give to Toys for Tots. I am also going to make a habit of having some quarters and dollar bills available for him to give to the red kettles we will be encountering.

I do worry about my kids being appreciative of what they have. I do not think it is a bad thing to have material possessions, but I do want them to be respectful of it. By virtue of our backgrounds (middle class ourselves, but having classmates and friends who were very poor) , X and I are distinctly aware of how good we have it.

Fortunately, my family really tones down the holidays - we focus on the lights, the tree, the music, the food and just being together. We have cut out much of the gift-giving and instead, are mostly drawing names now. My gift list for this year is a grand total of 11 people, which does not seem too bad. And that includes Arun's school and such. I am so grateful that we are low-key for the holidays. Sure, gifts are gooeylicious fun (hello!) but my favorite memories are not from the ripping of packages. I do want the same for my own kids.

Is the slug sad, Mama?

Dear Arun,
Yes, that slug is most likely really sad that you have been holding it all day in your very salty, sodium-laden guillotine paws. You heartless slayer of slugs.

Love you!
Mama

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Dear Seldon Edwards,
With the weird, contrived plot twists in your wee tale of time-travel, The Little Book, you are leading me to believe that the main character will turn out to be his own damned grandpa. Literally.

Capital!
Kelli

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Dear Anjali,
Um, it appears you are talking now. Today, you said "Don't, please." when Arun was tickling you. Then, later you dropped a crayon and said "I drop it." and when you picked it up, you proudly exclaimed "I find it!". And yes, I got teary-eyed because I am a sentimental fool. Quit with the growing up, dammit.

Sniff,
Mama

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Dear Fellow Bloggers,
I swear I am not doing the NaBloPoMo this year. Pinkie swear. I am not entirely sure why I keep posting everyday.

WTF?
Cagey

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Dear Sofia,
Can you just molt already? You are looking a bit haggard.

Your faithful invertebrate enthusiast,
Kelli

Are you writing all this down?

That is what my Olathe Grandma asks whenever I relay a Cute Kid story for her. Oh, Innernets, if only she knew. If only she knew. Oh sure, I have tried to explain my blog to her, but I suspect she thinks the Internet is some great vortex of mysterious cables that involves electricity. Which you should know is dangerous . Folks, electricity kills, as she constantly reminds me when she discovers my coffee pot has been left plugged in. I tell her I prefer to live on the edge, but she is not convinced.

Anyway............ Um, sometimes, I feel like a cruise director. Every single day, I hear from Arun "What are we going to do today, Mama?" He will probably ask for detailed itineraries when he learns how to read. Folks, just smack my ass and call me Julie. Furthermore, whenever Arun and I discuss what we are about to do next, he always, always asks if Anjali will also be participating. As if we would just leave her at home to fend for herself. So, overall, the whole Haircut Incident was a little sweet, because he probably thought he was doing her a favor. And knowing her, she probably giggled the entire time. Which only served to encourage him. Rinse, repeat.

I have some video of Anjali telling her version of events. I also tried to get her to show off her fancy-fangled usage of the English language but you know kids, they never show off when the camara is rolling. She can do quadratic equations in her head, but would she defer to do while I am recording? Of course not. Darned kids. I have a blog that needs material, damnit.

Witness for the Prosecution

Witness for the Prosecution from Kelli Oliver George on Vimeo.

NaBloPoWhat?

I swear I am not doing NaBloPoMo. Um, at least I think I am not. Whoa. I believe I have posted every day thus far, but I have no intentions of truckin' on through November. Trust me.

Anyway, Jackie at Nursing Your Kids did a fun meme and I have not done a meme for so long now. It looked delicious enough to feed my hungry ego.

Let me know in the comments if you decide to do this as well.

A is for age: I turned 37 in April. Seriously, at this point, I have to do the math (2008-1971 = 37) My age? Is of so little importance to me. As long as I am alive, not too wrinkly or creaky, and still changing diapers and not wearing them, that is all with which I am mostly concerned. Keep in mind that in 2006 I had ADDED an entire year to my age and was telling my doctor that I was at an ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE during my pregnancy and needed Special Attention because I had lost track of the years. Like, I did not even care (and was stupid with math and all that. WHATEVER.)

B is for burger of choice: Honestly? A McDonald's cheeseburger, no ketchup. Small and simple. Sue me.

C is for the car I drive: I drive a 2005 Acura, which I still worship and tithe to on a monthly basis with no regrets. Furthermore, when the Monthly Tithing Doth Be Done, its perceived value to me will rise even further. I HATE car payments as they cause me physical pain.

D is for your dog’s name: George W. Bush. Oops, you said DOG. Sorry 'bout that.

E is for essential item you use every day: My Treo. It is my phone and my port to checking my email. Enough said.

F is for favorite TV show at the moment: Since Mad Men has ended and the new Antiques Roadshow season has yet to begin, I will have to say 30 Rock instead.

G is for favorite game: Holy Crap. Only ONE game? My mind is flooded with Trivial Pursuit, Wit's End, Canasta, Cribbage, Euchre, Backgammon, Apples to Apples, Spit and Russian Bank. I can hardly think straight. Really, I have to choose just one? ONE? Really?

H is for home state: Kansas. And damned proud of it. And no, Jesus did not ride a dinosaur across the plains, y'all.

I is for instruments you play: Piano, the piccolo, the vibes, the flute. On a lesser scale, the triangle, the bells, the conga.

J is for favorite juice: OMG, limeade. LIMEADE.

K is for whose bum you’d like to kick: My own ass, for a variety of reasons.

L is for last restaurant at which you ate: la Hacienda

M is for your favorite Muppet: Miss Piggy

N is for number of piercings: 4 - all in the ears. DUDE. Did you see the line about my age? Am old. In my day, having TWO piercings in the ear was total Rebel Without a Cause. We risked paralysis with multiple piercings in the ear. Did you not know??

O is for overnight hospital stays: 4 nights total for the birthin' of babies.

P is for people you were with today: Today? X, Arun, Anjali, Chocolate Covered Susan, her two kids, my dad, step-mom, youngest sister and my brother.

Q is for what you do with your quiet time: Read blogs, eat sunflower seeds, read books and enjoy the lovely hum of my refrigerator

R is for biggest regret: Not going to work for Ernst and Young at the first go-around. My career path would have been remarkably different if I had gone to work for them a few years before I eventually did end up working for them.

S is for status: Ready to hit "publish".

T is for time you woke up today:8:45am

U is for what you consider unique about yourself: I think folks would be surprised at all the people I have met from other countries over the years. I went to a university that had an active international community and frankly, I relished and flourished in it. I held a chair in the International Students Association and folks would always say "why do you belong to that group, you're not foreign!?" and I would answer "because it is an INTERNATIONAL group, which includes the United States". I love small talk and I love meeting new folks.

V is for vegetable you love: Roasted cauliflower in garlic and olive oil

W is for worst habit: I nag my husband WAY too much and I am way too picky about inconsequential things.

X is for x-rays you’ve had: Dental x-rays

Y is for yummy food you ate today: Sunflower Seeds, Root Beer Float

Z is for zodiac: Aries

Are you going to blog this?

I had a little chat with my sister Jill today.

Here is my version of events an accurate transcript totally appropriate for a deposition and all that other legal shit required for prosecution:

Kelli: I have been finding wee snippets of Anju's hair all over the house. Guess why?
Jill: Why?
Kelli: GUESS.
Jill: Ohhhhh..... Does he have access to scissors?
Kelli: Um, yeah.
Jill: Well, now you know.
Kelli: This was not helped by fact that X was laughing. Laughing! I showed X the hair that I had found and he said "Yeah, Arun's been cutting her hair." Good grief, I was starting to think that Anjali was losing her hair because of a nutritional deficiency.
Jill: Are you going to blog this?
Kelli: Of course.

At first, I just thought it was cat hair, which struck me as odd because the cats shed in the spring, not in the fall. But then. Um. I noticed that the hair was curly. CURLY. And that is when the Lazy Mom Panic set in. The panic where I worry that Maybe, Perhaps, I Do Not Worry Enough. I try not to fret too much about things- for example, what my kids happen to eat. But this? Was beginning to stir me into a frothy mess of Lazy Mom Guilt. Seriously, I was beginning to calculate whether Anjali was getting all of her vitamins, minerals and such. I mean, I was fairly certain that she could not be losing her hair due to stress, as she is definitely living the easy life over here. Dude, all she is missing is a royal court and jeweled tiara. Therefore, I concluded that she was losing her hair because I was STARVING her, poor baby.

And then? I show X the hair and he starts laughing and informs me that Arun has been cutting her hair.

Folks, I did not know whose ass to kick at that point.

Of course, the best part of all of this is that you cannot even tell exactly where Arun had been doing his best Ken Paves since her hair is such a mop of curls and tangles. Overall, the damage was minimal. Even though I was finding hair everywhere.

Anyway, I took the suspect to the basement dungeon and questioned waterboarded him until he confessed. Despite the fact that legal counsel was not present during this confession, I am confident it would still hold up in a court of law. Back me up on this, Innernets.

Interrogation


Interrogation from Kelli George on Vimeo.

What took me so long??

I have never uploaded video before. Why? Too damned lazy, that is why. The following snippets are just tests. However, this was fun, so you have been warned.

Anyway.....this morning, Arun thought it would be cool to talk like a robot. In turn, I thought it would be cool to get it on video.

I'm a Robot



Anjali


Anjali, Again

Can I confess?

Okay. Confession Time.

With Christmas looming, the plethora of toy ads coming out has frightened me to the core. Specifically? All of this Pink Plastic Princess Nonsense. Oh sure, when I was a little girl, I was utterly fascinated with royalty - hello! I was an impressionable 10 year old when Charles and Diana were engaged. However, my obsession with princesses was extended to real princesses, not celluloid ones created by the nefarious folks at Disney. As such, I loved reading and learning about history. And I still, to this day, enjoy reading about monarchies around the world. It is a guilty pleasure, to be sure. Although, as an adult some of the fascination results from the disbelief that the sheer chance of DNA usually dictates who gets to be royalty. But still.....

So...... um, no. I am not a tomboy hellbent on pushing my daughter in that direction. Oh yes, I do love me some dolls, play kitchens, doll houses and yes, even Barbie (I still insist that my first college boyfriend did more to ruin my own view of my body than Barbie ever could have.) I cannot wait until Anjali can help pick out her clothes when we shop. I look forward to painting our toenails together. I will gleefully grant permission when she requests to have her ears pierced. I am so excited for that day when she lets me put hair fixin's in her rat's nest without pulling them out.

I do, however, have an irrational fear all of this Pink Plastic Princess Nonsense and wonder how I can keep my baby girl from ever finding about it. I suspect resistance is futile. What is your worst Toy Fear? Am I just crazy here?

Wait. Do not answer that.

Can we be friends?

Enough. Enough.


Chickens, calves and pigs can wiggle their asses freely in California (although, gays and lesbians cannot form a legal commitment to a life partner.) But at least Michigan is allowing medical marijuana and stem-cell research (no connection, I believe. ) And thank the Lord, Missouri has made English their official language because hoo boy, I don't speak a lick of Missourian. And although, Arizona also banned gay marriage, they also banned hiring illegal immigrants - equal opportunity, no? And hey, your doctor can now go all Kevorkian on your terminally ill ass if you happen to live in Washington state. And well, hell's bells - if worse does indeed come to worse, you can now play video lottery in Maryland. That is something, no?

And Obama is President-Elect. I sincerely hope he remembers to leave his pitchfork and horns back in Chicago because methinks the DC elite would frown on such attire.

End of story. Can we move on, now??

Is it over?

Nope. It is just beginning.

Tonight, I realized for the first time in my life, we will have a President who I actually like and even, admire. A man living the American dream who will be an example for my own little smorgasbord of DNA that is currently running around upstairs. That is a damned good feeling, folks.

Another damned good feeling is the overwhelming sense of relief I now feel. I did not realize how scared I had been for the past 7 years. How the pit of doom in my stomach was dragging me down. BeelzeBush was ignorant, dangerous and had no clue how to deal with the Muslim world. I am so relieved that we will now have someone who respects Muslims and understands them.

I guess that is all I have to say about that. I am proud to be an American and I am relieved that Obama will be leading us.

Peace.

Can I look now?

In an attempt to quell Official Election Jitters, I am going to answer another question:

What is my favorite recipe that has been passed down to me? And, a Bonus Question: How did X and I meet?

My very favorite recipe that has been passed down to me from a family member is my Great Aunt Joan's Cranberry Christmas Salad. It is hard to explain what this salad does for me - it invokes all those sweet holiday memories of Thanksgiving and Christmas. It reminds me of the huge family dinners that my grandma hosted before it became too hard for her to do so. It reminds me of how I thought I was being sneaky because I considered the salad a "dessert", but it was served with the turkey, etc. I would stuff myself so full of the salad, that I did not really care for the pies and cakes after wards. I love the creamy, whipped cream and the tartness of the cranberries. I savor the chewy grapes and I love the bite of the pecan pieces. Yum. I have been making this salad myself for several years and even X gets involved in the action as we always whip the cream by hand. It is best made the night before and it is all we can do to keep from eating half of the whipped cream.

My very favorite recipe that has been passed down to me from a friend is my friend Ferial's mother's Sri Lankan Mushroom Curry recipe. This dish is so savory and satisfying that it makes a perfect vegetarian meal. One of my Bar Buddies in grad school was a vegetarian, so I mixed up many, many batches of this dish when we all headed back to my place after downing a few too many Mind Erasers and were in desperate need of some good food.

So, how did X and I meet? Quite simply, through a friend. My friend Jennifer worked for X's company as a consultant and she introduced us. She had a gathering at her house where we sampled her father's homemade beer. Later, X and his roommate hosted a dinner party that involved much wine and game of Risk. The next day, X asked me to dinner in such a roundabout way, that I had to call my male friend CG to confirm that it even was an actual date. That first date was November 18th, 2000 and we have been together ever since.

Why bother? (v.2)

I had a celebratory post planned for this week about how I had officially run out Official Excuses for not going to the gym. I am done business traveling, done gestating, done breastfeeding full-time, and done dealing with separation anxiety from two toddlers. Yes, the plantar fasciitis has been an issue, but I stick to weights and the elliptical machine, so it has not been so bad. I was going to wax poetic on how lovely it is to drop the Double A's off at the nursery, where they are so very excited to just scamper off into the distance. I was going to talk about how sweet it has been to just soak up some tunes on the iPod and have 60 minutes of uninterrupted thinking.

Then.

Yes, you must have suspected there would be a "then". No?

I kicked our trash can a good 2 feet across our kitchen. Not on purpose, mind you. Oh no, but rather I did it because I am a klutz. The same bufoon who tripped in the kitchen just yesterday and fell on her knee. Also, I am Lazy Mom who left a rocking chair perched precariously on her couch (so the housecleaners could vacuum) and was watching her youngest progeny begin to pull it off of the couch. In my haste to grab the rocking chair, I totally ran into the trash can.

So. Now, I cannot walk without hobbling, I cannot bend my toe and said toe is turning a rather disturbing purple color. It also feels like the toe is "missing" or "disconnected" - a Phantom Toe, perhaps?? Dr. Google informs that even if the toe is broken, there is not much a Real Live In Person Insurance Accepting kinda doctor could do about it anyway.

I would take a picture for everyone to have fun diagnosing amongst yourselves, but as I have traded in pedicures in lieu of a housecleaning service, you would do well to thank me for sparing you the ugliness that is now officially known as my Left Middle Toe.

Why bother?

Truly, there is no sweeter candy than that which has been pilfered from your child's hard-earned stash.

Anyway.....Johnson County, Kansas, the county in which I reside, has had record turnouts for advanced voters, which leads me to believe that November 4th is going to be mayhem. I have a plan - we are walking to the polling place (it is only a half mile down the road) and I will have the brand-new DVD portable player fully charged and stocked (DVD player was purchased for a canceled roadtrip, not for the elections. I swear.)

So, yes - I AM, indeed, voting. Even though my Blue Ballot will likely be lost amongst a sea of Red Ballots and ultimately, will not really matter.

I debated titling this post "What if?" That was my response to X's pointed question of "Why Bother?"

Um. I will not be participating in this year's NaBloPoMo - you crazy kids have fun with that. Two years in a row have burnt me out for this year's. However, I am enacting my own little event called NaBloPoWe and will be posting for the first week of November. I am hoping this will jumpstart me out of the blogstipation from which I have been suffering.

Where did October go?

It is a valid question, to be sure.

So, in our garage, is some chocolate hidden in a basket under some tools. X will never be the wiser. I totally ROCK, when it comes to chocolate thievery.

Yesterday, we went trick or treating at X's client. The Double A's quickly caught onto the scam and were quite willing to take candy from strangers. Of course, Anjali did the typical toddler move of placing treats back into buckets in exchange for new, shinier goodies. Also, for someone who only just sprouted molars she showed some major nerve by consistently grabbing for Milk Duds.

By evening, Anjali was pretty pooped, so we only took her to the immediate neighbors. Then, Arun and I headed out by ourselves. He had a blast and was not shy about the whole thing. My two favorites moments from the evening were:

While still at home, I had left the door open as I was rummaging for some tools to fix the decorations outside. I heard someone outside and by the time I got to the front door, Arun was already there placing treats in everyone's bags. He even had to rummage for the treats in the dining room to be able to pass them out. It was funny to see him - he looked so grownup, yet was half the size of the kids at our door.

Later, while trick or treating, he had just left a house to meet me at the sidewalk. I asked him if he had remembered to say thank you. Before I could stop him, he ran back to the house, knocked on the door, waiting patiently for the person to answer, shouted and enthusiastic "Thank you!!", then ran back to me.

My Not So Favorite moment was when I returned to our house by 8pm to discover that my husband had handed out 90 lollipops and over 70 mini-tubs of Playdoh, yet accused me of not having bought enough treats. He had totally ignored my One Treat Per Kid edict. Argh.

Neil Arunstrong and the Wicked Witch of East Olathe