Rated R

Emerson has been full of questions lately.  The other day he is quizzing the Mister about movie ratings.  He wants to know what they mean, how old he has to be to see a PG-13, the whole enchilada.

The Mister is being very patient and answering all of his detailed questions and Em gets stuck on the idea of a rated R movie.

"Why do they have rated R movies?"

The mister explains that it's a rating for mature people.

"What does that mean?  I'm mature."

The Mister says, "Basically rated R means it would have lots of naughty words, violence and naked girls.  That's nothing you want to see."

Em pauses for a few seconds and returns with, "So is our house rated R because we have naked girls around here all the time?!"


That we have no good response to because while this conversation is happening, I'm standing at my sink in my skivvies getting ready for the day and the Mister is in the shower.

Kids have a way of making everything very cut and dry.


So in conclusion, our house has been rated R.  Visitors beware.

Calculators, they are evil

Last week Em brought home a worksheet that was teaching him how to use a calculator.  I wanted to be a fun mom, so I took out my huge calculator and told him he could use it.

I love that thing.  It makes me feel like a powerful business dude crunching numbers or something.  Truth be told, I only really use it for kid homework and measuring for DIY projects.  But still-- I really really like it, a lot.

I figured that getting out the extra special calculator would make things extra fun.  I presented Em with my prized possession and received no major fan fare.  Fine.

We proceeded with the lesson and every time I turned my back he was pushing buttons.  He hit the tax button, the 1/4 button-- basically all the buttons I'm not really sure how to use or reset.  Stupid calculator.

I'm starting to get a little huffy and tell him to stick to the lesson and quit pushing buttons.  He says, "I can't help it!  Then all look so fun!"

I give him a dirty look and start to read him the next problem.  It's 54-27.  He punches it into the calculator and it says 27.  I tell him to do it again.  Same answer.

Now I'm steamed.  I start punching in the numbers and no matter how many times I push = it keeps saying 27!  Damn calculator!

I'm so frustrated by now, I lay into Em about pushing buttons and ruining my favorite calculator blah blah blah...  Everyone else in the kitchen has gone quiet.  I try to regain my composure and go to the drawer and pull out another calculator.

I start to show him the problem 54-27 and the screen again reads 27.  A flash of anger hits me and then I stop dead in my tracks.

54-27 actually is 27.

Um....  ha ha, sorry little buddy.

Perhaps you and Dad should finish this together.  I think I need a break.

I hate calculators.  They think they know everything.

Thank You

This last week has been a bit of a struggle for me.  I kinda had to fall off the face of the earth a bit due to some medical issues. 

So in light of that experience, I have some serious friends to thank.  When life sends you on a roller coaster ride, you never know what's coming next.  But the one thing that I did know was that no matter what happened, I had people I could rely on.  That gives you hope.  That makes you smile.  That makes everything seem not quite as bad.

I have never been really good at accepting help from others.  I like to do things for myself.  But this week, I needed it.  We had dinners, phone calls, visits, texts and a few people that tolerated my serious need for Words With Friends to keep me entertained. 

To those of you, I say thank you.  Thank you for seeing my need and filling it.  Thank you for not taking no for an answer.  Thank you for bringing not only dinner, but dessert too.  Thank you for checking in on me and sending me silly texts.  Thank you for being reliable and resourceful.

Thank you friends...

You know what they say, what goes around, comes around.  So the next time you're in need-- I'm on it.

Store "ish" Hours

The mister and I tried to go to this shop today during regular store hours.  If you look closely, the term store hours is a loose commitment.  I think it's more like, "When I feel like it, I'll open.  Deal with it."
If we could only put an "ish" sign on everything in our lives.

...dinner will be made around dinner time "ish"

...your laundry will be clean on Tuesday "ish"

...I'll pay you next week "ish"

...my party starts at 7 "ish"


Oh, this could get very interesting.

What would you put an "ish" sign on?

Mighty Mouse

A few weeks ago I was sitting in the kitchen and from the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something.  A few moments later, I saw it again.  I turned to look at the movement and locked eyes with something small and furry.

Now, I'm not one to get all worked up over a mouse.  I did house a hamster for a time when my kids were in the little pet phase.  So it's basically the same thing to me.  The only difference is, one was invited into my house and one was not.

I quickly called to the Mister who began a long search of the premises to find our intruder.  Nothing was found, but a trap was set.

The next day, the trap was licked clean and the mouse was still on the loose.  So the Mister insisted that everything needed to come out of cupboards and shelves, be inspected, cleaned and baited.  Several hours later the job was done.  Now my pantry had no less than 10 traps in very clever places.

The next morning, the traps were again licked clean and we still did not have our mouse.  To the Mister, this meant serious war and a small blow to his man pride.  He went back to the drawing board and made a plan.

The next night he increased his security and my pantry had about twenty traps including the glue traps that are supposed to be a sure thing.

The next night, the traps were licked clean and there were foot prints in the glue.  By then we were convinced that we were dealing with Jerry (from the Tom and Jerry cartoon).

(see that little hint of crazy in his eyes... scary huh?)

So the Mister takes the traps and mixes peanut butter and Elmer's glue (per a neighbor's suggestion) and lines the traps up in a triple circle with a big prize in the middle.  We go to bed.  At this point, any noise in the night has the Mister out of bed checking his traps.

After several nights of this, we still haven't gotten our friend who by now is putting on some serious weight from the nightly peanut butter supply. 

One night the Mister is out working in the garage on a scout project with our boys.  I come out to see how things are going and I notice that a trap in the garage has caught something.

VICTORY!  (finally)

We do a little happy dance and the Mister sets another trap just in case.  So far we have caught three mice in the garage.  Each one is a sweet victory for the Mister who is now obsessed with a daily trap checking.

Any suggestions?  We (and by we I mean the Mister) are going crazy here!  There are still droppings and mice out there.  He knows because he cleans up after every "catch" and resets the traps.

Curse you little mice!

(although, you are providing me with quite a bit of entertainment)