Family Dinner Films Presents: Beef Stroganoff

It's been a while, hasn't it???

Love, Sam

The other day Sam got out a small notebook and drew some pictures for his dear old mom and dad. For his mama, he drew her as a queen, complete with a purple outfit (my favorite color, of course) and a crown. Observe:

The resemblance is uncanny.

For his dear old da, he went in a slightly different direction. Instead of drawing him as the king, as one might expect, he decided to draw a picture of something that would make his daddy happy whenever he gazed upon it. Behold:

This is a drawing of SOB holding a beer in his hand. I don't think anything I could add here would make this any more hilarious.

God, I love that kid.

May the Force Be...Your Breakfast!

SOB is an awesome dad, and loves to make the kids breakfast whenever he gets the chance. While I am quite good at pouring bowls of cereal or popping waffles in the toaster, as soon as Saturday rolls around the kids are clamoring for 'dad's best french toast' or pancakes or BACON! Lots of bacon, if you're Lucy. So when he opened his star wars pancake molds on Christmas day, I knew it was only a matter of time before we were feasting on some Yoda and Darth Vader heads smothered in butter and syrup!

"Eat you, I will!" says one Yoda to another.

When History Repeats Itself

When I was 14 years old (and my hair looked like this) I visited a county fair with my friend. Her father was a farmer and he had legitimate reasons for attending, like buying livestock. My friend and I only came along for the fried dough, entertainment and boy watching. After checking out the rides we decided against them. We were already smart enough to know better, so we decided to spend our money playing games. Because it was the summer before my freshman year of high school, I was pretty much 100% more awesome than anyone. In addition to being straight up awesome, though, I wanted to be bad ass. Never mind the face that I was a straight-A student who attended church every weekend (as a reader, even) and had never even broken a curfew. I wanted to be bad ass. And how was I to achieve bad ass status?

I needed a knife.

Yes, a knife. The only reason I decided on a knife, as opposed to a gun or some liquor, was because at the county fair there was a ring toss game where you could win a knife. The game consisted of several rotating tables with knives stabbed into them. If you tossed a ring around a knife, you won it! It looked kinda exactly like this:

After throwing several dollars in rings into the air, I finally landed one! My bad assery was about begin. But first I had to find my friend's parents because you had to be 18 to collect your prize.

I carried that knife around in my purse for about six months because I was terrified that if I put it in my room somewhere my mom would find it and ground me. Despite being a total bad ass, I was still afraid of losing my TV privileges. Then in the spring it was time for our annual visit to my grandparents in Florida, and I realized that I couldn't take my knife on the plane with me, so I sold it to a boy in my french class for $5. BAD ASS!

What does this have to do with anything?

Well, we visited the county fair on Saturday afternoon.

The knife ring toss game is wildly popular, so it's positioned right near the entrance. SOB, who is very familiar with my bad ass story, immediately decided that I would be playing until I won. Pregnant, with a baby in a stroller and two preschoolers in tow. I was reluctant, to say the least, but SOB put the money down on the table and the carnie put the rings down before me. I decided to be a sport, and also to let the kids in on the action.

Sam tossed the first ring. And guess where it landed?

My four year old landed the ring squarely on a fucking knife!

We laughed so hard the carnie thought we were weird.

And so, I think we can now safely say that we're fitting in just fine here in West Virginia.

For Your Amusement

Here mom! I drew a picture of you!

See, I used orange paper because it's my favorite color. And I made your face purple because it's your favorite color. And I made your beard green because it's Lucy's favorite color.

What a sweet boy, no?

--

As if you didn't see this one coming, here's the newest addition to the family. He/she will be making an appearance around St. Patrick's Day, 2011.

Field Trip!!!

Sam went on his first field trip today, and I almost died. The end.

First off, when did this little baby get old enough to attend fucking field trips??? Seriously, there were permission slips and requests for chaperones and everything, and yet yesterday he was still asking for a 'dwink of wah-way.'

GAH!

Secondly, this morning when he came downstairs I was expecting excitement and jubilation! Last night we laid out his clothes, since they requested that the kids wear their bright yellow school shirts. Just that process of finding the shirt got him all giddy last night. So I was a bit surprised when he came downstairs looking nervous. Turns out, the shirt was a size too big for him, and he was worried that the other kids were going to laugh because of it.

My first instinct was to get the of names of the laughers and kick their stupid pre-school asses. Luckily, I was able to work through that one on my own, and Sam and I figured out a solution. I suggested that we tuck in his shirt so that it wouldn't look so long, and he thought that was a great idea. So that's what we did.

And then he pulled his shorts up to his armpits. Because no one is going to laugh at him for that.

Pre-school logic escapes me. I guess that's a good thing, right?

Relief! And a Story!

The pie is in the oven. Now if I can just manage to wait the three hours required before I eat it. One to cook, two to rest, every second torture. Also torturous? My camera is all cleaned up and ready to come home, but my kids are sleeping, so it stays trapped in it's retail prison. Blast.

While I have some time to kill, let me tell you a story. On Sunday I mentioned that my kids were driving me a wee bit insane, especially Sam, in regards to disregarding every word that comes out of my mouth. We had our little 'run away from mom' incident at the Y Saturday afternoon, but Saturday evening was when he pulled out all of the stops.

SOB's chairman hosts a welcoming barbecue every year in mid-July after the new residents start. It's the kind of thing where most everyone in the department shows up, even if for only to make an appearance. We headed over and for a while things were going well. Our hosts had a big back yard and some balls for the kids to play with, plus there was a hammock and swing set for them to mess around with as well. My kids, in particular, loved the hammock. They would climb in and beg for me to swing them, and I obliged. I snapped a few pictures of them looking adorable together in there, and the evening seemed like it was going to go just fine.

But somewhere along the way, Sam flipped his internal switch from 'cute' to 'evil' and all hell broke loose.

The swing set was an older, metal model and the slide was high and steep. Despite several sharply worded warnings, he continued to push and be rough with the littler children, his sister included, while at the swing set. After several time outs, he was banished from the swing set all together. Then he started snatching balls away from the kids playing in the yard.

Finally, he ended up back in the hammock with Lucy, and pair of sisters. They were all playing nicely when the two sisters' older brother came over carrying their seven week old baby sister. He proceeded to get into the hammock with the baby as well, and I asked my kids to move away so that I could snap a photo of the four siblings together. The boy looked about thirteen or fourteen, and was rightly protective of his baby sister. He asked that no one touch the baby. I repeated that to my kids, and again asked them to get out of the hammock. All the while I'm snapping pictures.

Lucy, while unhappy, obliged and got out of the hammock. Sam, on the other hand, wouldn't budge. All of a sudden he started to lean over. I shouted, 'Sam! Don't you touch that baby!'

And here is the last shot I captured right before I grabbed my son by his toenails and dragged him back to the car.

Now do you see why I need pie?

No Body Issues Here

Just prior to his nap today Sam decided he wanted to weigh himself on my mother's scale. After assessing himself at 36 pounds, he turned to me and said, 'Mom, I love my butt.'