At dinner last night...
Ben: "Have some carrots, Mama."
Me: "No way, I'm so full." [remembers Will is listening] "No thank you, Daddy."
Will: "Mama, did you use your very polite manners?"
Me: [almost laughing] "Yes, buddy. I sure did."
Will: "I'm so proud of you for using your manners, Mama!"
Showing posts with label Belly laughs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Belly laughs. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Hump Day Humor
I'm having a highly unoriginal week in which I borrow other people's words rather than writing my own. But two papers due on the same day will drain a girl intellectually, so here you go...
I love Tina Fey, so I was super pumped to see that she had a new book coming out. Then I came across this excerpt and promptly put her at the top of my Goodreads queue. It's a bit more apropo for parents of girls, but still awesome. Enjoy.
Mother's Prayer for Her Child
By Tina Fey
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, for childhood is short – a Tiger Flower Blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long, and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
I love Tina Fey, so I was super pumped to see that she had a new book coming out. Then I came across this excerpt and promptly put her at the top of my Goodreads queue. It's a bit more apropo for parents of girls, but still awesome. Enjoy.
 |
| Yeah, she's pretty much awesome |
Mother's Prayer for Her Child
By Tina Fey
“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.
May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.
When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half and stick with Beer.
Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.
Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.
May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.
Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, for childhood is short – a Tiger Flower Blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long, and dry-humping in cars will wait.
O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers and the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.
And when she one day turns on me and calls me a bitch in front of Hollister, give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, for I will not have that shit. I will not have it.
And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.
Amen.”
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
File this one under "Embarrassing Things My Mom Put On The Internet"
Sorry to talk about my child's bowel movements, but Will has the best "poop face". He gets really serious and focused. It makes us laugh every time.
Ben and I have been trying for months to capture it on film. Lucky for you, we finally got it last week.
Ben and I have been trying for months to capture it on film. Lucky for you, we finally got it last week.
 |
| The poop face |
 |
| Wait, did you just take my picture? |
 |
| You're going to post that where?!?!? |
Monday, April 26, 2010
Wisconsin Reunion
Lindsay and I reunited in Madison this weekend for a writing conference at our alma madder. Unfortunately, the conference was not as great as in year's past, but we had a fantastic time catching up.
Lindsay is part of a contingency of girls I met as a freshman in Slichter Hall. We've scattered throughout the country since we graduated in 2005, and sadly we don't get to see each other much anymore. But the best thing about old friends is that when you get back together, virtually no time has passed. You pick up right where you left off.
Lindsay is part of a contingency of girls I met as a freshman in Slichter Hall. We've scattered throughout the country since we graduated in 2005, and sadly we don't get to see each other much anymore. But the best thing about old friends is that when you get back together, virtually no time has passed. You pick up right where you left off.
Here we are admiring the baby bump. Don't I look like a giant next to her? She's so cute and petite.
It was a very rainy and dreary weekend, but still so beautiful. I heart Madison.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)