Life On The Planet

Gender Crisis

Today Tiger said, "Girls are evil!"

A. I suspect the sister.

B. I plan to remind him of that fact when he's seventeen.

He's All About Self Improvement

The Sage of the MidSouth is at it again.

After the Cub Scout activities Saturday night, Butterfly and Tiger had an indepth discussion about his campfire story telling abilities.

"Well," he responded, "I have been working on my inner scariness."

Eastern Logic Meets Western Con Artist

While gathering Tiger's clothes for a Scouting camp out, I noticed that his neckerchief slide was missing yet again.

"Tiger, you lose your slide, and I find it. You lose it. I find it. Do you see a pattern developing?" I asked. He pondered the question intently.

"I see great balance," he said.

Well, I see great trouble in his near future - no fortune cookie needed.

Equal Time for Dads

Anita Renfroe, of the Mom's William Tell Overture fame, has decided to give equal time to the Y chromosome in the family. She's succinct...

and oh, so accurate.

Music to a Mother's Ears

"Mama, is this book fiction or non-fiction?" Tiger asked me this morning at the library.

Only a mother could hear the magic that resides in those words.

Belly of the Whale

Have you ever seen the Veggie Tales movie, Jonah?  I have.  I've seen it a great many times. I really enjoyed it the first fifteen times I saw it. (I'm afraid it's appeal is floundering. Ha! But I digress.)

There is a song played during the credits that is by one of my favorite groups, the Newsboys. I don't care how many times I hear it, Belly of the Whale never gets old. I've recently realized that they wrote that song about my life. Seriously. Listen...

Up to my ears in bitter tears. (I live with an eleven year old female. Get the picture?)

Can't believe I've sunk this low

As I walk the plankton Inner sanctum. (Truer words have never been spoken to describe Tiger's room.)

It's not just the kids...

Got outta Dodge, (left Louisiana)

Sailed on a bon-less Bon Voyage. (8 hours, 3 kids, one geriatric dog and a yodeling cat. Oy.)

You said North, I headed south. (Well, they call themselves southerners here.)

Good Lord, that's a really large mouth... (Pick a kid, any kid.)

They comment on my forays into Pilates and Chemistry...

End times, they come rolling around. (Not funny, guys.)

Enzymes, they come breaking us down to the core. (Ain't that the Gospel truth?)

They comment on my housekeeping skills...

Bad food, lousy atmosphere.

And back to the children...

How long is this gonna take?

You know, sometimes you hear a song and it just speaks to your life.

It's a gut call.

A song can touch something deep inside you. It can remind you of those nearest and dearest to your heart.

I'm a paddle boat, paddlin' in their wake.

A song can perfectly sum up your condition in life.

It's a tight squeeze, it's a-gettin' to me

...But my unemployment pays. (Please, Lord, let them get scholarships!)

The right song will hit the nail right on the head.

I'm in the belly of the whale.

The way I figure it, sooner or later things have to work their way out.

Hmm, what rhymes with 'comet?'

Not a Nightmare?

I awoke to my first morning of vacation in sunny Louisiana with a gasp. I staggered out into the kitchen, and my mother told me I didn't look like I needed to be out of bed.

"I had a nightmare," I told her. "I kept doing laundry and doing laundry, and I could never catch up. And then I went home to discover that The C.F.O. had four baskets waiting for me."

"That's not a nightmare," she said. "That's your life."

She's such a comfort to the afflicted. The scariest part of it is, she's right.

Easter Egg-citement

Easter has come and gone again. I would like to tell you it was a joyous, spiritual journey, but I am afraid that the best that can be said of it is that we lived through it. Holy Week began with strep throat and a one hundred dollar prescription for antibiotics. On the plus side, we've met our deductible.

After fighting a sinus infection for three days, on Easter morning I succumbed to the misery and decided to stay home from church. In my medicated delusional state, I decided it would be a good idea to boil eggs. I fell asleep with them still on the fire. The end result was a smelly, egg-popping, pot-scorching mess.

When the gang returned from church, The C.F.O. took pity on me and boiled (successfully) some more eggs for the kids to dye and pacque. I was so proud of him - he hardly laughed at all. Of course, there wasn't much that was funny about the smell in the house. Aunt The Major, on the other hand, thought it was hysterical. I guess they couldn't smell it in Korea.

Will we ever have a normal holiday in this house? Mystical Eight Ball says, "Highly Unlikely."

So, I told him to go and put on something GREEN

Common Tater Peels Spuds

Not long ago, I was peeling potatoes while a certain teenaged potato-head played on the computer. A few smart-mouthed comments later, and he was peeling potatoes while I cruised the 'Net.

My side of the conversation...

• "We need to get to the root of the problem."
• "Do not be a blight upon your mother."
• "It's not nice to hurt my peelings."
• "The grass is a lot greener on your side, my little tuber."

and finally,

• "Oh, please! Fry me a river."

That potato salad was the best I ever tasted. Smart-mouthed comments are currently trending downward.