July 25, 2006

Hail To The Queen

Sometimes it’s fun to get a little publicity. Not so much that people recognize you at Publix, but just enough to let people who haven’t seen you in a while know what you’ve been up to.

So it was quite exciting to open Monday’s newspaper and see the teaser for Tuesday:

“Tiny Kingdom Blog Gets National Notice”

(click to enlarge)

Then on Tuesday, the article appeared as promised, with a picture.

(from left: Drew, Porter, and Finn)

Faithful readers will note that Drew is wearing his cleanest shirt. I personally like the used dryer sheet sitting on the dining room table. It adds a note of realism to the scene.

Here is the article for those of you who haven’t seen it.

Comprehension Questions:

1. Is this a cross or a flower?

Answer: A cross. Believe what you see, not what you read.

2. Did I claim to have large titties in the interview?

Answer: No. I referred to Dolly Parton only in the context of having short skirts and red nails. I never mentioned my bosoms, as they are practically nonexistent. (See illustration).

3. Have I ever given laundry hints?

Answer: Long ago, I linked to a Crayola site that tells you how to get crayon out of clothing that’s been washed and dried. The better hint is this: Check your kids’ pockets thoroughly before putting them in the washer. When you’re scrubbing the dryer with WD-40, it’s bad news.

July 24, 2006

Boys and Their Balls

We were on the way to church and I was trying to get myself into a spiritual frame of mind. Unfortunately, my boys had more pressing matters, such as school and anatomy, to discuss.

“Mom, how many days ’til school starts?” Porter asked, interrupting my reverie.

“Twenty-two,” I replied.

“That means it’s only twenty-one days ’til our birthday,” said Drew.

“I bet one of you will get Miss Meggs for second grade. She’s the meanest teacher in the school,” Finn said authoritatively.

“How would you know?” I asked. “You didn’t even have her.”

“When I was in second grade, Anna Peabody pushed Mason Wrigley into a desk, and he fell into it, and Miss Meggs grounded him from recess for two weeks, but didn’t do anything to Anna. True story,” Finn said.

“Well, when I was in third grade, I got the teacher everyone was afraid of, and Mrs. Scott turned out to be my favorite teacher ever,” I commented.

“No offense, Mom, but that was, like, so long ago,” Finn said. “Teachers nowadays discriminate against boys just because we run around and trip on things more than girls, with their feeble, scrawny minds.”

“Girls’ minds are just as strong as boys’ minds are,” I said haughtily.

“Ow!” Porter yelled. “Drew punched me in the nuts!”

“Testicles,” Bill and I corrected together.

“That’s their real name?” Porter asked. “Testicles? That sounds much grosser than nuts. Or balls.”

“Testicles. That’s their real name,” I sighed.

“Hey, what are my testicles for, anyway?” Porter asked. “What, Mom?”

“They’re for me to hit!” Finn yelled, landing a well-aimed punch.

Porter started crying.

“No nut-punching!” Bill decreed.

“You mean testicle-punching,” I whispered.

“No testicle-punching!” Bill shouted.

The car was silent for a moment. Porter gradually stopped sniffling.

“So, Mom?” Porter asked.

“Yes?”

“What are these little balls by my wiener for?”

“Penis,” Bill and I recited together.

“Okay, what are these little balls by my penis for?”

“Mommy has a book that tells you about them,” Bill volunteered. I elbowed him.

“He’s asking about his nuts, not about sex,” I whispered through gritted teeth. “Don’t you get on that whole subject. He’s too young.”

“I was just trying to help,” Bill muttered back. “You’re so great at those talks.”

“What’s up with all the whispering?” Finn asked. “It’s rude to whisper in front of other people. I thought we were talking about testicles.” He turned to his little brothers. “Guys, seriously, I think testicles are there for people to aim at, like targets. That’s why you wear a cup when you play football and baseball.”

“I think my testicles hold my pee,” Drew volunteered.

“They’re also used for playing pocket pool,” Bill added. I swatted him.

“Pay no attention to your father. He is making up stuff,” I said. I glared at Bill.

“So what do these balls– I mean testicles do? What, Mom?” Porter inquired again.

We were almost at church, and I know God tells us to be truthful, but I couldn’t see myself introducing the concept of semen to the boys just then.

“Yeah, Mom, what are testicles for?” Drew added.

Under such pressure, I gave the only answer I could think of.

“They’re like decorations for your penis,” I said. “One on each side.”

July 23, 2006

Atten-shun!

My middle sister has always joked that I run my house like a boot camp. In the past, I’ve laughed nervously and said things like, “Well, with three boys it’s essential for them to be able to do things themselves so we aren’t late everywhere” or “I just think it’s important that they know what I expect of them.” Then I’d change the subject.

Really, though, my sister is much closer to the secret truth than she knows. From Potty Training 2001 to Self-Sufficiency Summer 2003 (Teach your kids to pack and carry their own bags to take to the pool!), my kids have graduated from one training program to the next.

School Preparation Boot Camp 2006 starts soon. Only my readers get a glimpse of this classified document!

2006 SCHOOL TRAINING BULLETIN

1. At reveille, each boy is to make up his bed, get dressed, and bring his backpack into the kitchen. Any time remaining between dressing and carpool time (7:25 am) may be used for eating and cleaning up breakfast. Choice of breakfast is at the child’s discretion, but must be chosen from the list labeled “Acceptable Breakfast Foodstuffs In The Glamore Household” which is attached as Exhibit A. Please note that while yogurt is acceptable, cookies are not.

2. Merit points will be awarded to any boy who brings Major Mom coffee (with small splash of half and half) in bed and announces that he is dressed, packed, nourished, and clean.

3. When it is Chatty Mom’s week to drive, boys should be waiting outside for her at 7:25. Boys will have 30 seconds after her horn honks to enter the van in an orderly manner. When it is Major Mom’s week to drive, boys should be in the van at 7:25 with seat belts securely fastened.

4. During the ride to school, all boys will refrain from farting, burping, imitating sirens, telling knock-knock jokes, or sudden movements that might cause Major Mom to spill her coffee. Anyone who is not riding home, or who is bringing home an extra passenger, should advise Major Mom or Chatty Mom during the ride to school so that room for extra bodies may be made, if needed.

5. Any deviation from these rules may result in explosive, embarrassing outbursts from Major Mom.

6. Upon exiting the vehicle, each boy is to gather his belongings and declare, “Thank you for the ride!” in an audible and grateful voice.

7. The following words are not to be uttered at school: penis (unless said organ needs medical attention), butt (same), stupid, dumb, snot or poop, alone or in combination with any other word (i.e. “poophead”), hell, shut up, bosom, pinkeye, lice, fever, itchy head.

8. When school is out, boys are to follow the same carpool protocol as in the morning with regard to seat belts, noises, and expressions of gratitude toward the driver.

9. Upon arrival at home, each boy is to hang his backpack on the appropriate hook. Backpacks are not to be slung about like a dead squirrel.

10. Boys may snack until 4:30. Boys consuming anything other than water after this time will have their treats confiscated and extra chores imposed.

11. There will be no TV viewing during the week except under extreme circumstances as designated by Major Mom. Such circumstances may include, but are not limited to, events of national significance, weather emergencies, and American Idol. If you need something to do and homework is done, go outside and make mud pies. If you prefer to stay inside, you can fold laundry.

12. No computer games will be played during the week. The computer may be used under adult supervision only for school-related research projects. Major Mom has checked with the school; no one will be asked to research “nekkid ladies” this year.

13. Chores will be performed immediately before (Chore Groups A and B) and after (Chore Group C) dinner. Chore Groups will be rotated on a monthly basis.

14. Because Drew and Porter have not been able to resolve this issue in a satisfactory manner, Drew will sit next to Major Mom at dinner on even days, and Porter will sit next to Major Mom on odd days.

15. Boys have a choice of a bath or a shower, but penises and hair must be washed regardless of the method chosen.

16. Teeth should be thoroughly brushed and towels hung up when bathing is finished. Failure to hang towels is punishable with a fine of twenty-five cents to go in the quarter jar in the kitchen. The fine may be made up of any combination of legal U.S. coins totaling twenty-five cents. Cutting a piece off a dollar bill is unacceptable.

17. Before bedtime, each boy is to pack up his backpack and set it out beside his clothes (including footwear) that will be worn in the morning. Porter is required to wear socks each day regardless of his choice of footwear, in order to reduce his noxious foot odor. Clothing choices are left to the discretion of each boy, except in the case of egregious fashion gaffes, in which case Major Mom will step in. Her sartorial decisions will be final. Whining and backtalk will be rewarded with 50 pushups or vacuuming the den.

18. All troops to bed by 8:30 pm (2nd grade) or 9:00 pm (5th grade).
Alarms should be set and turned on. Alarm levels should not exceed the allowable decibel level. Lights out to follow thirty minutes after tucking, prayers and kissing (if allowed). No exceptions.

19. All boys should keep in mind that Major Mom loves you, regardless of how long it takes you to get with the program.

July 20, 2006

Bubbly Bookseller Cruises The Tiny Kingdom

I was getting out of the shower when I heard Porter calling me.

“Mom, there’s a babysitter at the door and she needs to speak to you!” he yelled.

I was perplexed, as I was preparing to go to the orthodontist with all three boys. I jumped into some clothes, toweled off my hair and went into the kitchen to see what was going on.

A strange girl was sitting on the porch, helping Porter make a rocket out of his collection of corks, milk jugs and duct tape. I’ve taught the boys not to open the door to strangers, but I couldn’t fault Porter too much, because this girl looked exactly like a babysitter. She just didn’t look anything like our babysitter.

She had thick brown hair, lanky legs and cheerleader-blue eyes and the curliest eyelashes I’d ever seen. In addition to her halter and shorts, she wore an official-looking badge around her neck, although my eyes weren’t anywhere sharp enough to read what it said.

She stuck out her hand. “Hi, my name is Megan, and I’m from Arizona. Porter here tells me that you have three boys in elementary school.”

I looked at Porter and frowned. For a kid who ordinarily stares at strangers silently with his buck teeth hanging over his lower lip, Beaver Boy sure had opened up to Megan. He only shares his cork collection with special friends.

“I know that people who live in the Tiny Kingdom are very
invested in their children’s education,” Megan said. “I assume that
applies to you as well.”

“Of course,” I said.

“Today is the only day I will be in your neighborhood. I’m selling student-tested and teacher-approved books that will enable Porter and his brothers to complete all of their homework assignments and truly understand the material they are learning, not just memorize it. Do you have a minute to hear about these unique reference materials?”

Normally I am extremely suspicious of people who sell door-to-door unless they are wearing a Girl Scout uniform. However, as I bent to pick up a cork that was rolling off the porch, I saw a sheaf of papers that Megan had set down. The top page said “ORDERS” and underneath, in loopy teenage handwriting, I saw the names of many of my neighbors.

“I have 3 minutes max,” I said.

Megan pulled out an organized binder.

“First, I bet you’re wondering why you need these books when you have the Internet.” She got an ominous look in her blue eyes. “The Internet is not always reliable,” she confided. “It would be terrible if your child wrote a report based on false information he got off the computer. Sadly, that happens all the time in today’s world.” She shook her head sorrowfully, and patted Porter’s shoulder. Then she looked back at me, and her eyes widened with alarm.

“What’s worse, your child could be researching something innocent, like breast cancer, and stumble upon a horrific site that contains” she looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper, “pornographic images.” Her wide eyes combined with her long, curly lashes almost obscured her eyebrows in a sinister way.

“I suppose that could happen,” I said doubtfully, although I was thinking that our days of writing reports about breast cancer are pretty far off.

“Do you know why there is snow on mountains in the summer even though hot air rises?” Porter interjected.

Megan looked at him, startled.

“Why no, I don’t,” she said.

“Does that book tell you?” Porter pressed.

“I don’t know,” Megan answered. “That’s really a very good question.”

“Porter, I’ve told you that you can ask your teacher that when school starts,” I said firmly. I turned to Megan. “Please continue.”

“I’m sure you’ve had the experience that every parent has, where your child has a homework assignment and has been taught a different way to do it than you were. We see that a lot today with math,” she said, turning to the math section of the book.

“For example, here’s multiplication the way you learned it, and here it is shown the way a lot of schools are teaching it these days. So if your child gets stuck on a problem and doesn’t recognize the way you’re telling them to do it, you can consult the book and see what you’re doing wrong,” Megan explained.

I bristled. “I’d say “wrong” is a bit harsh. Maybe I’m just doing it the old-fashioned way, the way we did it before we had ATMs and cell phones and remotes and text messaging,” I corrected.

“Well, yes, sorry,” Megan said meekly. She resumed cheerleader mode immediately.

“Anyway, when you have these books, there’s no need to confuse your child by trying to explain something differently than the way they learned it in school. You can simply look it up in one of these volumes and teach them the way they learned it in class.”

She looked down. Porter was pulling on her hand. “Do you know why my mom says she love me infinity plus one when infinity is the biggest number?” he demanded. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Megan said uncertainly. “She just means she loves you a whole lot.” She looked at me helplessly.

“That’s exactly right, Porter,” I said. “You can’t put a number on love.”

“Do those books have numbers for love?” Porter asked.

“Well, no, they don’t,” Megan said.

“I don’t think those are very good books,” Porter said firmly, and he pulled off another strip of duct tape and wrapped it carefully around his rocket.

“I’m not sure this is for me,” I told Megan. “When my boys have trouble with homework and Bill and I can’t help them, we tell them to ask their teachers about it. That’s what the teachers are there for, and then I don’t have to worry about screwing something up and confusing the boys further. I have many talents, but teaching is not one of them.”

Megan had an answer for this.

“These textbooks have other benefits. As parents, don’t you like to keep up to date on the subjects your kids are learning about? Often students leave their texts at school, but with these valuable reference books, you can read about whatever topic your child is studying in science, for example.”

I tried to picture myself getting the boys ready for school, driving carpool, jazzercising, writing, cleaning the house, and then settling down to read about the different levels of the ocean floor so I could discuss them with Drew, cirrus and cumulonimbus clouds so Porter and I could go outside and point them out to each other, and memorizing the periodic table along with Finn. I squinted, trying to remember some elements. I had pulled neon and zinc out of my ass when I realized that Megan was continuing her spiel.

“All the teachers in the Tiny Kingdom are very excited about this learning program. They think it will be a fantastic supplement to your already top-notch scholastic courses,” Megan exclaimed.

It was time for us to have the boys’ crooked teeth checked, so I wrapped it up.

“Your talk is good, Megan, and your eyelash curler is even better. I don’t think I’m interested. But just tell me, what would I have paid for all this?” I asked.

“Only $350 for all these volumes, including a timeline of important dates in world history and a supplemental CD,” she said. “When your parents bought you an encyclopedia growing up, they probably spent well over twice that.”

“I’m sure they did,” I said. “Would you like a Coke for the road?”

“I’d love one,” she said, so I went to the refrigerator and pulled out an ice cold Sprite and gave it to her.

“Just so I can improve my selling techniques, would you mind telling me what you’d like to see included in our volumes that would make you more likely to purchase them?” Megan asked. She took a dainty sip of Sprite.

“Sure,” I said. “First, you could erase pretty much all the information that’s in the books now. I rely on the school to teach things like the War of 1812, Venn diagrams, and chlorophyll. I can’t possibly tell my children about any of those things half as well as their teachers can.”

Megan nodded.

“And,” I continued, “I’ve already been to school. I don’t have any interest in keeping up with what my children are learning except on the most superficial level. If Finn is learning about Henry VIII, I don’t feel the need to re-memorize all those wives and who died and who was beheaded and so forth. So I don’t see myself reading these in my ’spare time’ to see what my children are learning about. It’s hard enough for me to keep up with my New Yorkers and Us Weeklys. Plus, that would take away the fun. At some point, aren’t parents supposed to get to say, ‘They didn’t teach us about computer graphics when we were little, so you’re on your own with this one, buddy?’”

“It sounds like you’re just not really interested in your boys’ education,” Megan said.

I resented that, especially after I had given her a Coke.

“No, you’re wrong,” I said. “But the things that are my responsibility to teach are not in those books. Unless you have a chapter on how to make up a bed. Or the importance of hanging up your towel after getting out of the tub or shower.”

“My books don’t discuss any of that,” Megan replied.

“Well, those are only a few of the items I’d want the books to cover if I was going to purchase them. They’d also need to show how to separate laundry, how to run a washing machine, dryer, dishwasher and coffee maker, the importance of opening doors for ladies, putting your napkin in your lap at the table–”

Megan was gathering up her things and starting to back away, but I figured she’d asked, so I was going to answer.

“– how to put together an outfit that matches, how to conduct yourself whether you win or lose the baseball game, the proper way to write a thank you note, sharing, basic first aid, taking turns, cleaning up what you mess up–”

Megan ran to her car and drove away.

Wow. As far as I know, I’m the only member of the Tiny Kingdom who has run off the Bubbly Bookseller.

On the other hand, I saved $350, and that’s worth a lot.

July 19, 2006

Please Dispel This Urban Legend

With temperatures hovering in the high 90’s, it’s time to address a belief commonly yet erroneously held by hot-blooded hairy men in the south:

When the air conditioning is adjusted during the day between two
temperatures that differ by only a few degrees, the system must work
twice as hard to cool the house to the lower temperature than it would
have if the house had stayed at the lower temperature for the preceding
twelve hours, and therefore no money is saved by raising the
temperature a couple of degrees during the day.

Let me put a human face on this scientific conundrum. I am a skinny, cold-natured woman who is in and out of the house during the day. I am comfortable at 77 degrees. No shivers, no sweat.

Bill leaves the house by 5:30 or 6:00 most mornings and returns around 6:30 pm. In exchange for my wearing sexy pajamas to bed at night, he turns the thermostat up to 77 when he leaves in the morning so that the house is not completely frigid when I wake up.

At night, however, when it is time to turn the thermostat from a perfect 77 to his preferred 74 (or lower! Like we live in Alaska! It’s not healthy!) he insists on delivering a lecture about the virtues of a cooler house. In response, I pull the electric bill from my bedside table and wave it about in a hysterical manner, shouting, “Honey, have you seen how much we’re paying for electricity? You’re going to be riding your bike to work if we don’t watch our utilities!”

It is then that Bill counters with the urban myth stated above; namely, that I am not saving any money at all by keeping the house at 77 during the day because the air conditioner has to work SO HARD to cool the house another few degrees. The fact that I am more comfortable at 77 degrees does not factor into the equation; his sole point is that my raising the temperature only raises my comfort level and does not save energy or money.

Any smarties out there want to weigh in on this one, especially if you are on my side??