Movin’ Right Along

I have combined blogs into one centralized location. You can now find all entries from Tales from the Edge of Reason at The Homeschool Advocate – “Where hilarity, learning, and parenting challenges collide.” Even if you are not planning on homeschooling, come take a look and recommend it to other parents. There is much more to the site that simply homeschooling topics!


So…Who’s the Goodass?

As he fixed spaghetti for our dinner, Dave turned on the premier episode of “The Cape” – a new superhero show on one of the major networks.

As one of the bad guys did a particularly sick martial arts move, Dave commented, “That was a BAD ASS move right there.”

Emily pauses for one short moment before asking, “So…Who is the Good Ass, Daddy?”

Co-Sleeping? No…She Sneaks In

Emily sees no reason to have her own bed. I’m sure of it. Occasionally she tries to fake us out by saying, “I want to go to my bed now.” We look at each other, shrug, tuck her into her bed and go to sleep comfortable and with ample room. It doesn’t last. Somehow she ends up in our bed.

Perhaps I’m just too tired to care. Mostly I just like to blame it on my hubby who says, “She won’t want to sleep in our bed forever, you know.”

However it happens, what follows is an example of how I am usually awakened…

“NO! NO! That’s MY CANDY [insert name of parent or friend or family member here], you GIVE IT BACK!”

Yes, my child SCREAMS in her sleep. Not just talks, full out screams, right into my unprotected, unprepared, sleeping ear.

Or better yet, and this happened last night…

[WHACK] a child-sized fist smacks into my cheek. “Bad Daddy,” she says, and I rub my aching mouth.

“You hit me,” I say sleepily.

“No, I didn’t,” she says, still fast asleep, “I hit Daddy.”

“No, you hit ME!”

“Did NOT!”

All this while completely unconscious. In the morning she remembers nothing.

Terrible child…verbally and physically abusive…and yet each night she climbs in, and I sleepily move over, tuck her under the covers, and spend the rest of the night shushing her and ducking flailing limbs.

The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result. I think I’m certifiable by now.

Giant Spiders?

A few weeks ago Emily found an enormous spider in the yard. It was well over two inches long, pushing three. I took some pictures to show to Dave later. He’s the amateur entomologist in the family. A few days later, in the wee hours of the morning, Emily appeared in our room.

“I had a scary dream, Mama.” I struggled to mumble reassurances out of my own sleepy fog.

“There were giant spiders in my room.”

Her dad grumped irritably, “Go back to bed!”

“But I’m scared of the spiders!”

“Okay, baby, but there aren’t any giant spiders in your room.”

“But there could be!”

We moved over and she nestled in between. At that hour in the morning, it just seemed easier than arguing.

The next morning we went to Powell Gardens and went through their giant bug exhibit…

She looks a bit nervous

Look Out!!!!

You’re right Emily, there could be a giant spider in your room!

p.s. Here was the spider we found in the backyard…

"Leave Me ALONE!"

Otherwise It Gets the Hose Again

“Ham…grrr…burr.” Emily enunciated clearly and slowly, “Did I say it right?”

Dave and I both grinned and tried not to laugh. At 3 1/2, her speech is clear, but every once inĀ  a while she gets words confused. She was trying to say “hamburger.” It sounds so cute that I don’t have the heart to correct her.

“Yes, Sweetie. You did just fine.”

There is silence for a moment and then she says, “Oh good. ‘Cause if I said it wrong I’d get the hose again.”

This sent us into gales of laughter.

No, we don’t beat our child with a hose. No, our daughter has not seen Silence of the Lambs. And no, I don’t plan on letting her see that kind of movie for a very long time. Her dad started jokingly saying it to her during bath time, “It puts the shampoo in its hair, or else it gets the hose again.” Pretty soon, he would just say the first part and she was always there with “Or else it gets the hose again.”

Never let it be said we aren’t raising our child to be as warped as possible!

Skipping to the Loo

No she isn’t British, but all I could think of was a gleaming white toilet as Emily sang her own rendition of “Skip to My Lou”.

Skip, skip

Skip to the loo

Skip skip

Skip to the loo

Skip, Skip

Skip to the loo

Skip to the loo my darlin’!

The Child Whisperer

Everyone needs a child whisperer. Seriously, they really do.

Our family’s ‘child whisperer’ is primarily my husband. I stand in awe of his ability to tame the savage beast and somehow convince our headstrong three-year-old it is time for bed.

My office is right next to her bedroom, and I was wrapping up a few last tasks as he tucked her into bed and read her a story last night. The story ended and as I cleared my desk I heard Emily ask, “Daddy? Tell me about Spuds and Sparky.”

In case you are wondering, Spuds and Sparky were my husband’s pet scorpions when he was a teenager. Yes, I know how odd that sounds, to use “pet” and “scorpions” together in a sentence, but there you go, after all he’s an odd guy and his oddness is one of the many reasons I like him so much!

A few weeks ago he had read a story to her that simply referenced, didn’t show, scorpions being under the character’s bed. It was innocent enough, the character in the book was convinced there were scorpions under his bed (there weren’t) but he had his father check again and again. This convinced Emily that she had scorpions under her bed and she refused to go to bed alone for three nights in a row, citing scorpions as an excuse to cuddle in bed with us.

It was then that Spuds and Sparky were rekindled in her father’s memory and he told her all about them. Somehow, knowing that they could be “pets” made her feel better. The fears of scorpions under her bed went away and each night she asks her dad to tell her all about Spuds and Sparky.

And really, who names two scorpions such innocent-sounding names like that? Oh right, my oddball husband.

In any case, after hearing her sweet request last night, I nominate my husband the Child Whisperer.

Little Pitchers…Big Ears

One active child, two sick parents.

My husband had been complaining about headaches for almost two weeks. I had been having them on and off, but in the past two days a strong, persistent sinus headache had developed on the left side of my face. I noticed Dave was also clutching the left side of his face like the side was just going to blow off.

“We need to go to the Walgreens clinic and get seen. I’ll bet anything we both have sinusitis.” I urged my husband who had been sulking all day, clutching his head and being generally useless. I needed him healthy, and I had a big day of work scheduled for the next day, so I needed me to be healthy too.

I convinced him to get dressed and asked him to stop off and refuel at the grocery store gas station since we had 7 cents off per gallon. Every penny counts! While he pumped the gas I went inside and promptly spent all of the money saved (and then some) on a pumpkin spice cappuccino. One sip and I knew it would be for him…too thick and sweet for my taste.

I handed it to him as I got back in the car and he looked happy for the first time all day. As we parked at Walgreens and approached the entrance he said, “I’m going to hide my coffee so they don’t see me carrying it in.”

Moments later as we each stood at the respective kiosks and logged into the clinic queue Emily sez, in a loud and clear voice, “Daddy, are you hiding your coffee so they don’t see?”

Busted by a three-year-old!

The clinic staff member was amused and of course, let Dave keep the coffee!

Vintage Christmas

I just spent $117 on toys for the princess. I sure hope she likes them.

They are used, but she’s too young to notice such things.

I bought them more for me…hmmm…that might be a problem.

Do you ever buy something for your kids that is really all for you? I mean, I’m not going to play with the toys. Most likely not, at least. It is the memory of the fun that I had with with them that helped me keep clicking the ‘confirm bid’ button as the seconds on the auction ticked down.

And in a week or so, my daughter will be the proud future owner of a vintage Fisher-Price Little People farm (with people, animals and tractor), a wind-up ferris wheel with fully wooden Little People (OMG!!!), and a school bus and mini bus filled with Little People.

I have many memories of playing with my Little People. I was never lucky enough to have the barn, or the schoolhouse, but I did have the house, the parking garage, jet and…wait for it…YACHT.

Oh yes, I had the yacht. I mentioned this to my husband and he looked instantly envious. His mouth turned down, “I never had the yacht,” he said, I think he was seriously considering turning his parents in for neglect.

Should I even mention that I saw my yacht on eBay as well? For only $145.70 you too can have a vintage yacht, still in the box. I seriously considered it, looked at my current purchases and frighteningly low bank balance and figured if I did there might be divorce in my future. Perhaps I’ll find one out of the box and it might be had for a better price.

It goes without saying that there will be NO purchases of the new Fisher Price people EVER in this house. To me they look cartoony and wrong. I like the simple clean lines of the old Little People. Never mind that they have no hands and are nearly shapeless. It is the memory of my hands holding them, placing them in their cars, flying around in the jet, and making the elevator go up and down on the parking garage.

Those were beautiful, simple, happy hours. I would play in the water with my yacht until the water had long lost its warmth.

So while I’ll say that I bought these toys for my daughter, and while she will get to play with them (I can only hope she loves them as much as I), I bought them for me. Long after she is grown I will keep them. For the next generation and a reminder that our memories are always with us, even 35 years later.

The Sneeze Hole

Dave walks in laughing. “Go on Emily, tell Mama what you said.”

Emily sez, “The sneeze hole goes ‘sneeze, sneeze, sneeze.'” Considering she had just been discussing her butt a few minutes before I was somewhat suspicious and leery of what would come next. “Come Mama, I show you.”

She takes my hand and leads me into the living room and into the front entry where I have one of those automatic air fresheners strategically positioned and set to spray every 36 minutes. “See Mama, the sneeze hole.”

Why, of course it is, Emily!

p.s. She has also learned to press the button and pretty much constantly smells like Vanilla Breeze these days.

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