Mama Diaries

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

A Funny Kind of Flour

My son was helping me make muffins last night.

"Okay," I said. "We need two cups of flour. Can you get some and pour it into the bowl?"

"I'm on it," he said.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him scooping some white stuff out of a bag that was on the counter. The bag looked a little bigger than a typical four bag. I figured I'd better check this out. I walked over and read writing on the bag:  Easy Sand 20 Joint Compound.  It was the stuff my husband had been using to spackle the ceiling.

"Uh, dude. This isn't flour," I said.

He looked puzzled. "It's not?"

"No. If you use that, the muffins will be rocks."

All I can say, is that I'm glad I caught it before the rest of the ingredients went in!

Monday, February 8, 2016

Life Expectancy for the Mama

Last night, I watched the Superbowl with my kids. At the end, my kids commented on how big the Superbowl rings for the winners were. I told them it was probably because it was the 50th Superbowl. My son wondered what they'd look like for the 100th Superbowl. I told him I didn't know, but that he'd probably be around to see it.

"What about you? He asked. You'll be around, too."

"I don't know," I said. "I'd be almost a hundred years old."
"You'll be around," he said. "You look Asian. And Asian people live a long time."

"Asian?" I asked. "I hardly think I look Asian."

"Yeah. You're thin and you have dark hair."

Then my daughter commented. "And you're smart and musical. Just like Asians. So you're definitely Asian."

Okay. So I guess I'll be around for Superbowl 100. I hope Lady Gaga sings the National Anthem for it, because she did great

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

Groundhog Blues and Question of the Month

Yesterday was Groundhog Day - the day the furry varmint comes out of his hole in the ground and determines if spring is coming soon, just by looking for his shadow. I've never really understood what the big deal is about this, but it seems to be a well-loved tradition.

When my son came home from school yesterday, he told me a sad thing happened.

"What was it?" I asked.

"They told us in school that the groundhog saw his shadow and that spring would be here soon."

I wrinkled my brows. "What's so sad about that?"

"It's a myth. It's sad that they keep spreading this silly story. When people find out it's not true, they're going to be sad. And then all the people who paid a lot of money to see the groundhog are going to be mad. It's a rip-off!"

Okay. So what do you think? Is Bubba right? Are people going to be upset when they learn the ground hog really can't predict when Spring is coming?  Or should we just uphold the Groundhog Day tradition?

Before I go, it's time for the question of the month, hosted by Michael D'Agostino.  This month's question, in time for Valentine's Day, is about love lost and found. I'm supposed to share a story about love I may have lost, or love I found.

Well, that's all a personal nature, and I really don't feel like sharing that. So, I'm going to tell you a story about someone else's love lost and found. I read this in a Chicken Soup for the Soul book, and thought it was the sweetest thing ever. And since I have a romantic heart, I'm going to share it for Valentines Day:

Winona was 19 when she met Edward. He was visiting his sister who was engaged to Winona's brother. They had a great chemistry, but unfortunately did not live near each other. It was agreed that they would write letters to keep in touch. (These were the days before the Internet.)

The correspondence lasted for many months. Then the letters from Edward stopped coming. Winona assumed Edward had lost interest.

Many years later, she married another man and had a family. She learned through her sister-in-law that Edward married a couple years after her.

Eventually, one of Edwards daughters had a wedding. Winona was also invited to the wedding. After 30 years, Edward and Winona were meeting again. The chemistry was still there, but the conversation was polite.

Ten years later, Edward's wife died. Winona sent him a sympathy card. Two years after that, Winona's husband died. Edward wrote to her. Once again, they were corresponding.

Edward wrote often. After six months of writing, he came to visit for two weeks. And then do you know what happened? He asked her to marry him!

She said, "yes."  They got married and lived happily ever after.

In case you're wondering what happened with the original letter-writing, Edward's mother had destroyed Winona's letters because she didn't want to lose her youngest son. Forty-three years later, Winona found him.

Isn't that sweet?   

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Wake Up Call

My son, Bubba, got a trumpet for Christmas. He loves that thing. He loves it so much, that playing it is the first thing he wants to do in the morning. Needless to say, none of us want to hear it that early. So what does he do? He takes it outside, stands on our back deck, and blows his little heart out.

"Dude," I said when I heard him this morning. "The neighbors really don't want to hear you blowing that thing at 7:00 AM!"  

"But it's great music," he said.

"Great music, or not, it's loud, and people might still be sleeping."

He shook his head. "They're not sleeping. Everyone is up for school. And if they're not up, they should be up. I'm just helping everyone get out of bed so they get to school and work on time."

How thoughtful!

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

A New Kind of Language

Yesterday, as I was doing the dishes, my son came up to me and started making funny sounds:  "Vrooom, brrrrrm,brmmm, vroommmmmmm!"

I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. "Bubba, I can't understand a word you're saying."

"Brrmmmmmm, Barooooommmm, Vroooommmmm!"

I shook my head. "Dude, if you want to have a conversation with me, you need to speak a coherent language."

"But, Mama, I am speaking a language. It's motorcycle!"

Oh. Of course.

Monday, January 25, 2016

Taking out the Trash

One of the chores my son has to do, is take out the garbage. Admittedly, it's not one of his favorites.

The other day, I asked the boy to do his job. "Okay, Mama," he said.

I went out and came back a little later. I didn't think about the garbage until I was preparing dinner. When I went to throw out some trash, I noticed something strange. The garbage can wasn't there.

"Bubba," I called. "Where's the garbage?"

"I threw it away," he answered. "Just like you asked."

"Okay. Great. You took out the trash. But where is the garbage can?"

"I threw that away, too. I got rid of all of it. Now we don't have to worry about taking out the garbage anymore."

(Needless to say, I sent him out to retrieve the can. He wasn't getting out of garbage duty that easily!)

Thursday, January 21, 2016

Pizza Prints

The other day, my son was eating a piece of pizza.

Instead of simply eating it, he commenced a full examination. He examined every crack and crevice. "Mama," he said after he was finished. "Did you know that every slice of pizza is unique - like a fingerprint?"

"Well, Bubba," I said. "I hadn't really thought of it. But I suppose you're right."

"Yes, I am." He flipped the piece over. "Look at the oven burn here. It's unique. No other piece has marks like that." Then he grinned. "I know what they are."

"What are they, Bubba?"

"Pizza prints!"

Okay. So, ladies and gentlemen, next time you eat a piece of pizza, flip the thing over (careful not to lose the toppings) and check out the pizza prints!