It’s all Greek to me.

Gus makes up words. Today in the bath she swirled up some bubbles, poured them into a cup and said, "Mommy, this is a squirtydortydirtysquirbydabbaopowinaweena." Easy for her to say.

What words do your kids invent?

Leader of the [Brat] Pack

This is a repost of a blog I originally published on myspace in 2008.

I didn't always love being an Army brat when I was one, but now I am so glad that was my life growing up. I had so many opportunities that I'd never have had if my Dad had been in another line of work. We got to live in Germany twice, Washington D.C. a time or two, Kansas a few times. I got to be born in the Great State of Oklahoma (Lawton), I got to have a built-in best friend in each location named Jeremy, my cooler-than-Cheez Whiz older brother who always let me hang with him and his friends. We played some of the coolest games of "war" together, complete with Star Wars blasters and real Army stuff like canteens and field jackets and other things I don't know the official names of, courtesy of Dear Old Dad.

Growing up Brat was pretty rock and roll. Except the moving every 2-3 years part. I still get antsy every 3 years or so, thinking that at any moment, a team of movers should be storming my house to put all my belongings on a truck to take it to the next place. The moving away from friends business sucked pretty much and I cried buckets and buckets and cursed my dad each time certain I'd never fit in anywhere else ever again EVER, then 3 years later I was doing it all over again. Even with all the moving around, I crossed paths with some of my friends in many different places - for example, my senior year boyfriend had lived down the street when we were 3 and his mom had the birthday party photos to prove it, and my best friend from Kindergarten who moved away was again my best friend in 6th and 7th when our dad's got stationed at the Pentagon. My dear friend Kellie from 4^th grade was again a dear friend in 11^th and 12^th. It did get a bit confusing at times though – sometimes I'd see people in the halls at school and wasn't sure if I remembered them from our last station or from last week. Having to make new friends so often did force me to be more outgoing and take a use-it-or-lose-it approach to making friends. Why sit in the house moping all summer when you can be out there meeting people and ensuring you won't sit alone in the cafeteria the first day of school?

One of the best parts of growing up Brat was the travel. I lived in Germany twice – the first time in 2^nd, 3^rd & 4^th grade, then again in 9^th and 10^th. The first time we lived in Germany, Jeremy and I would travel together to the bakery down the street and fill our mom's order for bread and rolls and sometimes there would be enough left over for a few selections from the wall of candy. We'd also take trips through the scary woods where we were sure Bigfoot was buried or scarier still, Nazi bunkers filled with old men in uniforms just waiting for an opportunity like us. Then there were real live trips: my family traveled through France to the ferry which took us to England, then drove up to Scotland – even to LOCH NESS which was the scariest, coolest and most disappointing place my 8 year old self had ever been (was that the monster, Mom?? No, just a branch. ARRRGH!). The second time I lived in Germany, my brother and I traveled by train each Sunday to Bremerhaven for school. We lived in dorms during the week and went home every Friday to spend the weekend with our parents. It was the closest American high school, and the alternative was German school (didn't speak the language well enough) or the British school (spoke the language, but oh, that's a whole 'nother blog). We chose American. I was a freshman, he was a senior, our Mom was a wreck. We had to transfer trains at the station in Bremen which, in case you ever find yourself there, had a little stand outside which sold the best gyros sandwiches in the world. Jeremy and I also traveled to Paris and Egypt (with groups) and to Holland for shopping and American movies (in English, with Dutch subtitles – worth the hour drive and the fumbling for passports). I got to see the Berlin Wall when there still was one– I wrote on it in eyeliner because stupid me didn't bring a Sharpie. Want to teach a teenager to appreciate freedom? Take them to a place where there isn't any. Make them hold their face up to the bus window next to their passport and let an East German with a machine gun approve or deny their travel back to the West.

I got my first passport at age 7. Along with a buttload of shots (literally, though some also went into my leg). My mom always kept my passport in a lockbox at home when we weren't traveling, but as a teenager I was trusted with it. In Europe, sometimes traveling to another country was less than an hours train ride and you had to have a passport or you couldn't enter the country. Years after I came back to the states – years after my passport expired even – I drove from Lawrence to Oklahoma with a boyfriend. As the toll booth appeared in the distance, I got a nervous pang as I realized I'd forgotten my passport. Seconds later I realized that one doesn't need a passport to get from Kansas to Oklahoma, dumbass. And in that moment, it occurred to me that traveling from state to state ought to be a little more dramatic with fanfare and documents to make it more exciting.

There are times I really miss being a Brat. I loved watching my dad get all dressed up in his Dress Blues and go to big events with my mom. My mom always laughed that her job was to make him look good, and boy did she ever. I even got to dress up a time or two and accompany my dad to some pretty glam events. All girls love a man in uniform, and I'm no exception. It's just that my vision of a man in uniform is my Daddy and there's really no topping that.

When I dropped out of school at 20, I received my walking papers from Uncle Sam. I was no longer eligible for dependent benefits – had I stayed in school, they would have extended but because I dropped out, my number was up. I kept my military dependent ID card, though I was supposed to turn it in. I told my dad it was because I loved the picture but in all honesty, it was just my way of holding on to a little piece of my history. My card that said I belonged somewhere. That little orange card gave me a place in the world. When you're a Brat, you don't have a home. But you always have a place. And an ID card to prove it. And sometimes, if you're lucky, some really cool stamps in your passport. And a lot of friends who can totally relate.

GO ARMY!

writing on the Berlin Wall, 1988.

Ottobeuren, Germany 1982

The hills are alive with the sound of snickering.

Interview with the Vampire (slayer-musical-episode-soundtrack-loving-3-year-old)

Tonight I "interviewed" my daughter at bedtime.

What is your favorite color?

Blue. And pink and green and red and green and BWACK!!!

What is your favorite food?

Cereal and milk, cheese and boogers. Just kiddin'!!! I love Spaghetti and meatballs. Can I have some spaghetti and meatballs now?

What is your favorite movie?

The Wizard of Woz, Nightmare Before Christmas because it has a pumpkin king and Santa Claus, the Powerpuff Girls where they all change bodies but not the one with Mojo because I don't like him. He is a jerk and he is creepy.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

A doctor because I wuv animals. And people too. I could be a girl doctor, because I'm a girl. Or maybe a doctor who helps all people.

Where do you want to live when you grow up?

In this house, with Mommy and Daddy. And they can be doctors too.

What is your favorite song?

Shut Up and Let Me Go, and the number two song from Buffy [the Vampire Slayer musical episode soundtrack, "I've Got a Theory" is the song she means] and also Journey.

What is your favorite place to visit?

The STORE but only when they have COOKIES!! And Granny's house. Can we go to Granny's house? And the GYM because Miss Linda lets me cut yarn after I pick up all the toys and I can get the paper towels ready for the next person.

What is your…

Ok, Mommy. It's time for you to go to sweep in your own bed.

A few gems from my best gal

Augusta asked how old I am. I told her to guess. She said, "Five teen". When I told her my actual age, she said incredulously, "thirtyFIVE??!?!??!"

She likes the song "I Kissed a Girl". She sings it "I kissed a girl and I liked it and then I married Jackman".

Tonight she told me: "I don't like you Mommy. But I WUV YOU!!"

Augusta dressed as Dorothy for Halloween. We trick or treated all over the neighborhood, and by the time I said it was time to get home, she didn't argue. In fact, when we neared the house she grabbed my hand a little tighter and said, "Oh Mommy, there's NO place like HOME!"

Silent Sunday

bubble bursting 101

 

I had my first parent-teacher conference with Augusta's preschool teacher recently. As I made the trek from the parking lot to the preschool classroom, I practiced my humble face. I just knew that momentarily, Mrs. Schoettlin would sit me down to gush about how my sweet angel had charmed them all with her enthusiasm, overwhelmed them all with her generosity and served as a shining example to all of the other children as a beacon of amazing selflessness and wit. Turns out, mine is the bossy kid who scolds the other children, cries – no, sobs - when she's corrected and pouts when she has to wait her turn. Awesome. I guess it could be worse. She could be the paste-eater.

More random acts of randomness…

Reduced Fat Cheese Nips? Not delicious.

First Watch for lunch is ridiculously good. That marinated salad they serve with sandwiches is the BEST!!!

Heroes: where the heck is Mohinder??? But in the meantime, I'm digging the new Carny guy from Prison Break. And of course, Peter Petrelli.

I can't believe NBC is keeping "Trauma" on the air but cancelled "Southland". The former is just ridiculous, but the latter was one of the best shows on tv in a long time. The season finale last year was the most suspenseful hour of television I can remember seeing. Dude, who the heck is running NBC these days? I would say maybe a monkey, but that would be insulting to monkeys.

I hate when I'm so busy at work that I can't get to everyone on my list, but other people sit there at their desks and watch videos all day.

I'm really liking the new show on ABC, "Eastwick". It's a nice mix between "Charmed" and "Desperate Housewives". Nice and campy, just how I like my shows.

And one more thing: I love my Ranger dog and all, but could he please stop with the farting??? Pretty please?

Talk about random…!

I'm over Kristen Wiig. I don't recall the exact moment that SNL became "the Kristen Wiig Show featuring SNL", but seriously. I'd be willing to overlook it if they'd kept Michaela Watkins around, but instead they kept the terribly unfunny (but cute) Abby Elliott and added two equally cute but painfully unfunny other girls. I shouldn't say they aren't funny – how would we know, we never see them. I used to really laugh at Kristen Wiig. I sang her praises to all around (ok, only when discussing SNL – I'm not THAT much of a weirdo). Now, I cringe when she makes her entrance into the sketch just waiting for whichever variation of that grating, bizarrely high-pitched-yet-nasal talking-from-the-back-of-her-throat thing she does. In every sketch. Seriously, enough with the Wiig!

I'm annoyed by the way people drink coffee on tv. You know what I'm talking about: hold-the-cup-with-two-hands-followed-by-the-deep-sniff-of-contents-with-eyes-closed-then-slowly-sip-with-shoulders-raised-aaaaaaand-finally-a-satisfied-smile. That's not how people really drink it. No. It's slurped, quickly, in our cars. While flipping off the jerk in the yellow mustang who passes on the shoulder.

I like the 5 gum commercials. They're pretty. And original. And no one folds a stick of gum into their mouths, which is another of my pet peeves. Real people do not fold gum into their mouths on the beach with their twin. Real people just shove it into their mouths and chomp loudly. Some of us crack it, but don't realize it until our office mates point it out to us. Then we crack it louder.

I could watch "the Office" every day, many times in a row.

"Eye-candy". I hate hate hate that phrase. Not as much as I hate Blues Traveler, but close.

Every movie should be directed by Tim Burton and scored by Danny Elfman. Well, all the good ones anyway. I met a four-year-old recently who has studied the collected works of Tim Burton, and quizzed me on my knowledge of the films. He won, by default (he was too cute to defeat). Robert, you are one cool kid with great taste in films.

Turner Classic Movies helps me stay sane.

I really need to do something about my hair. And I really wish a pedicurist would knock on my front door and haul in the cool chair. She could bring her friend the massage therapist.

I heard Bob Mould on the radio at the grocery store today. A part of me was really excited, but another part of me felt very sad that Bob Mould has become "adult contemporary". But mostly, the excited part won.

I haven't smoked a cigarette in over 4 years. Take that, doubters! And when I say doubters, I really mean me because I was the biggest doubter of them all. Never ever did I think I could quit. But I quit for Augusta (found out I was pregnant and quit cold turkey that day), so I think that's the trick. I couldn't quit for myself, but I found a better reason. Do I still think about cigarettes? Yep. Do I still want to smoke? Sometimes, usually when I'm irritated or feeling super fat. But the reality is, cigarettes suck. They control you, they make you stink like crap, they break your bank and they are just plain not worth it. I still miss that first drag and the instant calm, but then I get on the elevator at work after a smoker has been on it – or I look at my daughter – and remember that I don't smoke anymore, and won't ever again.

I wish Mad Men was a daily soap.

Where the hell did my waistline go!? Hey, look! OREOS!!

Wizard of Oz fans will appreciate this:     The other day, I asked Augusta what she was doing and she said, "I'm just flying on a broomstick, thumbing for a hitch."

Speaking of Augusta, recently after not pooping for 3 days, she went during the night in her sleep. She woke me up and said, "MOM! I pooped my pants!!! Why did that happen???? I WAS SLEEPING!!!!!!!"

Last but not least, Augusta has her own way of saying her prayers. She came home from daycare one day and asked if she could say Grace at dinner. We obliged. She very solemnly crossed herself and said, "bwess us o' Lord for these thy thank you for our dinner. The father, the song, hold the spirit, Amen."

 

 

 

These Go to Eleven

I introduced my daughter to the soundtrack to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer musical episode (Once More With Feeling) a couple of days ago in the car. It's one of my favorites, both to watch and to listen to. Chock full of humor and wacky nods to well, I don't want to bore you so I'll just say that I love it. It used to be a staple in the car for B and I, but it hasn't had much play lately. I tricked Gus into listening to it over the weekend and surprise surprise, she loved it. As we were getting out of the car tonight, she said "Mommy. You must roll me a copy of that for my room." I asked, "do you mean burn? You want me to burn you a copy?" She replied, "I just want it in my room, OK???" So, I "rolled" her a copy and we rocked to it this evening at bedtime. I can still hear it playing in her room as I write this. That's my girl!

Music was always a big part of my world, right from the beginning. I never played an instrument but I can play the hell out of the radio. Ba-dum-bump! My folks always had good music on, and I remember being the only kid in Kindergarten who could name (or cared about) the Beatles. I got into an argument once with my best friend Meagan about the song "Copa Cabana" – I insisted it was 'Copa' while she remained convinced that it was 'cobra'. The first single I ever begged my mom to buy for me was "Dust in the Wind". My first album bought with my own money was Kool and the Gang. I was obsessed with Brit pop in the early 80s due to our easy access to British tv featuring Top of the Pops (we lived in Germany near a large British Army post). I was sure I would marry one of the Duran Duran boys. Michael Jackson's "Thriller" got me through a particularly rough fifth grade year (girls are MEAN!) and Prince got me through well, he still gets me through. The Cure. The Church. Psyche Furs. REM. The Replacements. All that great stuff my brother got me into in high school. My first concert was BB King. I hate Blues Traveler right down to my core. I was ticked with the gal seated in front of me sang along out loud with Johnny Mathis. Yes, I said it. I saw Johnny Mathis. I've also seen Jane's Addiction, Violent Femmes, Bad Brains and handed Bjork a plastic spider to keep in her pocket. Movie scores are a current love of mine. I walked down the aisle to "You're So Cool", Hans Zimmer's tune for the film True Romance. I could listen to the Shakespeare in Love soundtrack every day and never tire of it. Ravenous is another great one that never gets old, and still gives me the creeps every time I hear it. I just might wear out my copy of the Once soundtrack. Then there are albums which are my own personally adopted soundtracks. There's my old standard go-to disk, "Love Everything" by the Glitter Kicks, featuring my good friends Craig (best drummer of all time) and Tawni (when I grow up, can I please be T?). I flew to Chicago last summer to see a once-in-a-lifetime show with my best friend. Well, mostly to see my best friend, but also to watch Liz Phair perform her album "Exile in Guyville" live and in its entirety on its 15^th anniversary (with Suz, who introduced me to that album in the first place). Though I'm not by any means a Neil Young fan, I'm back in the living room at 1001 Rhode Island with every annoying little off-key note. I love how a song can take you back into a moment right from the introduction. I hear the single opening note to "Here Comes Your Man" and I'm suddenly riding around Leavenworth with Shannon. I hear the beginning of "I Love Rock and Roll" and I'm back in third grade with Carol Cullum. We are wearing matching knickerbocker pants and singing our hearts out. There are about 85 songs I can't listen to without thinking of my mom, but the list is topped with "You Can Call me Al". And Meredith Brooks "Bitch". Not because my mom is a bitch (she isn't) but because she loves that song, and now I do too because of her.

I'm not trying to cure cancer here, I'm just sayin I love music. And I love that my girl does too. I get a kick out the fact that she can identify a Coldplay song, or that she knows the sound of Glen Hansard's voice (I love it even more that she calls him Glen Handsome). I not-at-all-secretly love that "Don't Stop Believin" fills her with joy and calms her down when she's upset. It's a great song and you know it. I'm determined that she will have a well-rounded appreciation for music. Much like my dad educated me on great stuff like the Four Tops, the Bee-Gees (before they were disco, even!) and the aforementioned Beatles (great bunch of guys, you really should check them out sometime), I want my girl to know what she likes and have an appreciation for the rest of it, even if it's stuff she doesn't care for. She's got a pretty good head start, if you ask me.

the starter blog

Well, here goes.  All the other kids are doing it, so why not?  But what to talk about?  Topic suggestions welcome. I don't do politics. And I try really hard not to say mean things about people. At least not where they'll be able to read them.

Tonight I re-watched the pilot of my new favorite show, Glee. I'm sure since it's well written, clever, funny, entertaining and on Fox, it won't last the season. But for now, I love it. The final scene gave me chills – real live, actual chills! The underdog, put-upon, misfit kids sing their hearts out to "Don't Stop Believin" and it just touched me, I guess. Anyone who knows me knows I have a bond with that song, because of my sugar pie/tsunami of a daughter, Augusta, who is obsessed with that tune. But I digress. If you have seen Glee, tell Fox that you like it. If you haven't seen it, you need to find it and watch it. And then tell Fox that you like it. It's too late now for my other favorite show, Terminator: the Sarah Connor Chronicles, but maybe together we can keep the delightful GLEE on the air.

That's all I got. Terrifically boring First Blog Post, but in all honesty, no one is reading this AND I really kinda just wanted to see what it would look like all posted and stuff.

xoxoZ