Hey everyone! I’ve been busy in college so I have more important things to do than blog, however my son has tons of time on his hands to fool around! He would like to share with you his crazy experience concerning a museum far, far away…
How My Civil War Museum Trip Turned Out to Be
Alright, so I went onto the bus preparing to leave for my field trip and I came across the driver, which, from my point of view, looked like my 6th grade teacher. Then I took a seat and I looked around and I saw these off-topic and off-season mini cut-out posters scattered about the walls of the bus and a picture of a U.S. army guy (who was probably her brother or something). Then after maybe an hour and a half of driving and waiting (because we were going to Kenosha to go to this place), our bus group was finally at the Civil War Museum.
Now when I got there, I had to hang my coat and “any other things we had along with us.” Now, I’m thinking about that statement thinking, “Like what else are we going to have with us? An iPod? A stereo system? A portable mini television [I wish!]?” After that, we had to take a seat in a room that looked like I just walked into Majestic Cinema (a fancy movie theater in Waukesha). Then we sit down through what seems to be a three and a half hour presentation of some-guy-I-forgot-the-name-to. Now, there’s a table in the corner of the stage, right? Well, he (fortunately) had the annoying tendency to lay his hand flat on the table every 25 seconds at least 30 times. Now, at least he’s not the most paranoid human being in all of the universe and he goes like this every 5 seconds counting, “Uhhh………ummmm……”
Another thing that he would do is, well, there’s a chair in the middle of the stage, right? Well, he will have the annoying tendency to sit on that every 5 seconds. After two hours of that nonsense, we had to go to another museum (for some reason) just to go and eat lunch. After that was finished, we started to head back to our original location. Now it was time to see the mannequins and exhibits that were awaiting our arrival. But, I got this 85 year-old tour guide (his name was Jack by the way) who tended to shake a lot whenever holding something and he seemed a little paranoid. I turn over to my language arts teacher, Mr. Jorgensen, and told him what I noticed about him and he said to me, “It must be his age. Probably Parkinson’s Disease.” After the exhibits, we had to ride all around a certain area of Kenosha (because I can’t remember what specific city in Kenosha we were in at the time) inside a streetcar. It pretty much depended on electricity and gas, but that’s probably about it. Then, I don’t remember what happened other than the two-hour bus ride back to school. Despite that, the trip went very well for me. By Scott Jr. (13yrs.)
I wonder if my son learned anything–probably that old people are kind of creepy. Those are the jokes folks, see ya’!!!
Every day is a new experience, despite the usual suspects of routine. I have three kids. Sometimes they get along, other times I have to be a referee stopping some one from biting another’s ear off . . . or standing in another room until it’s already happened. My kids are pretty typical in their sibling rivalry: “You called me a name, he wrote on my wall, she hit me, you screamed in my ear, so ‘n’ so farted, she messed up my bed, he smells!” And my ultimate favorite conclusion to all my kids’ wheelings and dealings: “MOOOOOOOM!” I can usually handle the basics of childhood complaints, but as my kids have gotten older (without my consent) they have become more physical and more clever in their insults to each other. This isn’t two-year-old physical stuff either. Tasting your sister’s hair is not equivelent to “I’m going to punch you in exactly one hour!” Yes, they are precise. And puctual.
My oldest is starting his teenage fret with lots of attitude and lots of sighs. He sighs more than Charlie Brown. But picture Charlie Brown as a teenager and with an interest in sex but still thinks it’s gross. My daughter (the middle one) is “older” than her two brothers, but not always wiser. She wants to be Gwen Stefani and marry Bruce Willis. And she acts like she can. She doesn’t know that Bruce will be older than dirt by the time she feels the need to get married. My youngest is still searching for his eight-year-old identity. He likes Legos, Star Wars, and Indiana Jones. To him, girls are gross but invited several of his grossest friends to his birthday party. He generally feels picked on and is a part of most of the sibling rivalry that goes on in our house. Conclusion: Every one wants his or her own way and will kill he or she to get it. (A.k.a. I’ll literally kick you down and sweet talk the parents into thinking it’s all your fault.) This is the life of a parent with in-between kids.
Today, my husband came home from work expecting to eat fried chicken. Instead, he saw a look on my face that expressed “escape” almost to the point of tears. We walk away to have a quick chat, and no foolin’, within thirty seconds my youngest is crying and my daughter is pounding her own fist into her hand. Sobbing breaks out, we have no idea what just happened, and can’t get a straight answer from any body, or a car loan. My oldest sits by steadily not saying a word taking skin (the best part) off of his chicken. Time to separate, get frustrated, and have a glass of wine; preferably two. Enter joke here: “How was your day at work hon’?”
I have three very diiferent people living in my house spawned by two people they are exactly alike only accentuated and slightly more annoying and needy. Although, I did whine a lot about a vacation I had to have or I was going to die. In any case, like marriages (people you are supposed to know and love forever) it can’t always be perfect. General things have to be fair, everyone has to have the same amount of attention and the same amount of presents at the exact same time, other wise all you will hear is “How come he gets that? How come she got a big gift? Why didn’t you take me? How come it’s his birthday?”
Parents, it’s not you. Kids are greedy little people who we love. Siblings may not always like each other. Deep down it’s obvious they love one another (a held hand down the stairs, a push of a swing, a favorite toy given, help with a Lego set, and once in a while, an actual “I love you.”) but they don’t always want you to know. It’s their weapon. At their bed time they’re actually conspiring against us instead of brushing their teeth. How else do you think they get their own T.V.?
I was recently reading an article in “Vogue” magazine about Michelle Obama, the wife of a presidential candidate called Barack, and the reading was going pretty well (about as well as a reading from John Edwards), until I got to the last three paragraphs of a five page “quick hitter” documentary. If any of you watch E! you’d understand. Anyway, I was enjoying getting a glimpse into Michelle Robinson’s (maiden name-duh) life when I realized how Kodak perfect her life has been and could care less about paupers like me who read “Vogue” magazine. I was shocked to learn just how much she can’t stand her own children:
“It was a gift having my mother home every day. I want my kids to feel that way.” Hah!! The joke’s on us! Just wait, it gets better:
The days I stay home with my kids without going out, I start to get ill,” she says. “My head starts to ache.”
I was so shocked, I nearly fell off the toilet! I’m sick thinking about her children and the strong relationship they must have with the nanny. Then again, when I’m ill, my kids hug me and bring me water–does that sound like something that would make your head ache?
Apparently, Mrs. Robinson (Grandma) didn’t think her daughter Michelle could handle it either and told her daughter she didn’t think Michelle could take the boredom of staying home with kids. Naturally, Michelle was “surprised” to hear that taking care of her had been boring. Hmph. Old dog, old tricks, new day.
I almost feel sorry for her. I think it would’ve been brave to stay at home. I’m under the impression that she just got scared. Being a Mom is scary and “real” women do it every day. “Real” women vote too. I save up to buy “Coach” purses, I save up to shop at “Burberry” (which I only did once), but I always make sure I never have to save up for groceries, or hats, or snow pants, or cute art projects that my kids made in school that are turned into mugs and pillow cases and sketch boards. It’s true, real women read “Vogue” and are, indeed, paying attention to the articles and the women in them; not just “stuff” they have to save up for.
I am not surprised at all that Michelle has been in trouble for being “too” candid. During my readings of this article, she almost had me going. I almost fell for her line. But those last few paragraphs spoke novels to me on what kind of a politician’s “wife” she’s been. When I read about her boredom and her headaches, it hurt me. A good mother would be. It’s a good thing she doesn’t speak for her husband, because she’s lost my vote.
In a six-figure world it’s getting harder and harder to be a housewife, and you (Mrs. Obama), are just making it harder. Just for the record, there isn’t one boring thing about being a Mom–if you were one, you would know that.
Here’s to you . . .