Tag Archive: children


I read somewhere that the average four-year-old asks, like, 400-something questions a day.

That’s amazing.

I’m not saying that I’m a four-year-old, but I think I ask something close to that.

I just wonder a lot of things.

For instance, I had lunch with my mother today, and I had at least ten questions just about our lunch.

Before you get all “you’ve said that before!” on me, I just want to let you know I don’t really care if I repeat myself. It’s my blog, I can do what I want. And if that means tell you something repeatedly, then so be it! Anyway, let me please reiterate that my mom has this thing about having her ipod headphones in her ears at all times. Usually, she has one of her stupid audiobooks playing at the same time, but you can bet your bottom dollar there’s no way she’s actually listening to her book the entire time her headphones are in. I tried audiobooks. It’s hard to pay close attention. It’s like someone is constantly talking to you and you can’t zone out ever because you’ll miss part of the story and have to just nod and pretend you know what’s going on. Okay, so it’s really no different than sitting in class in college and listening to lecture, or having to listen to some bullshit story from someone you don’t really care about, or someone who just rambles about nothing and expects you to pay attention. Hey, that’s you. Start paying attention again. I’m actually going to get back on track again.

Ugh. ADD. Anyway!

She had her headphones in while she was making lunch and not listening to me talk about how I had just finished the very last episode ever of The West Wing on DVD. Because she wasn’t listening to me, I decided I’d snuggle up to Chiefy on the floor and tell him about it. Sometimes when I do this, she will actually be listening to what I say to the pets- like that time I sat in one of the teal recliners in the living room with Stella in my lap and I sang to her for five minutes, nothing you’d know because it was one I made up as I went. Or like that time I told Tag to get a job one day. Or when I busted my ass on the kitchen floor and bruised the whole right side of my body because I dared Tag that I would be able to jump straight onto a stepstool on the hardwood floor (I’m dumb.) and it clearly didn’t turn out right because I knocked the wind out of myself when I missed the stepstool and fell.

When we finally sat down to lunch, I had already been yammering up a storm, and every time I paused where she was supposed to respond, she always looked lost in our conversation. It’s really irritating to have to battle that in every single conversation, so I requested that she remove her headphones because I had some serious business to talk about.

When you eat tomato soup, does it feel like you are just eating hot ketchup?

Is tomato soup really made of just tomatoes?

How come I like ketchup but hate real tomatoes?

Who invented grilled cheese sandwiches?

Who invented putting grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup?

When you wear your fur coat, do you think about how you could be offending people around you?

Are you supposed to eat crackers with tomato soup?

Are you going to eat these crackers?

Why did you get them out?

Why do I hate Ritz crackers? The Townhouse crackers I do like are pretty similar to Ritz crackers, so don’t you think that’s weird?

Danielle brought animal crackers to work yesterday. Have you had animal crackers recently?

I eat the heads and legs off first. Is that how you eat them?

Did you know that the average four-year-old asks something like 400 questions per day?

Apparently, that last one was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Granted, she did make a joke about me being a four-year-old since I had literally just spent the entire time we were sitting and eating asking her completely superfluous questions. Even so, she finished her grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup, put her headphones back in, told me to finish up, and then took a nap as she waited for the dishwasher-repair man to come to our house.

I bet I have those four-year-olds beat. I ask a shit-ton of questions every day. That’s not even including all the questions I have to ask at work because it’s a function of my job.

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In preparing for my trip to Philadelphia (alone, because my travel buddy bailed and had to stay home to work all weekend 😦 sad face for me) I had to do laundry.

I read, you know? I read other blogs. And I read books. And it’s all, like, girly stuff. Stuff about relationships and being a mom and cooking and shiz. You know, all stuff that doesn’t apply to me since I’m not in a relationship, I’m not a mom, I have no domestic skills and consider getting a box of triscuits out of the pantry cooking.  But don’t judge. It’s my life. I can read what I want. You’re not the boss of me.

Anyway.  Laundry. Even though I know that laundry is a universal thing, you know, something everyone has to contend with, a lot of what I read about laundry is women (usually older than me) bitching about it.

I’m not mad about it. Go ahead and bitch. More bitching I say.

In fact, if I had to do laundry that didn’t belong to me, I’d probably bitch about it too.

fancy, fancy machines! I love the buttons! They make little noises!

And if I had little mess-makers who are noisy and get dirty, like really dirty, I’d probably hate laundry too.

If I had to fold tiny things that are hard to fold, like tiny pants and onesies and bibs and stuff, like Nikki does or like other moms on the internet, I’d be irritated.

If I had a husband who was clumsy and spilled shit all over his shirt or if I had a significant other (whose laundry I was responsible for doing) who changed outfits four times a day (like I do sometimes), I would be irritated.

If that was the case, I would bitch about laundry. I would be annoyed with how it never ends.  I’d be irritated that things don’t fold easily and look nice when it’s all said and done. I would probably be overwhelmed by how often I move items between the washer and the dryer. I’d probably hate the makers of all of this laundry as I sorted it into different piles.

But, alas, it’s just me.

Just my laundry.

So when it comes time for me to do laundry (read: when I run out of underwear- and trust me, I have a lottttt so it takes a looong time before I muster up the courage to partake in a domestic skill), I don’t really have anyone to blame but myself.

And I really enjoy sorting my clothes into color piles. I can examine how big each of the piles are and be like Damn, how do I have that much clothing?!

And then I enjoy pushing the buttons on the washing machine. And measuring out the soapy stuff and sniffing the fabric softener.

I enjoy dedicating hours to laundry. Because while my clothes are being washed and dried, I can chill out and watch The West Wing or Grey’s Anatomy under the guise that I’m doing laundry, or I’m waiting for my clothes to dry. That I couldn’t possibly leave or run errands or something because God forbid my clothes would wrinkle. And you would be correct in assuming I don’t know how to operate an iron.

The best part, though, is folding. I really, really love folding my laundry. There’s something about seeing a perfectly folded shirt or matching up my socks. I love it.

I guess we can add laundry to the list of reasons why I’d make an excellent wife someday. (lolz) Sure, it may be the only thing right now on that list but that’s fine since I have no marriage proposals on the horizon. Also, I’m not really interested in being a domestic goddess. Carrie Bradshaw did just fine in life and she kept sweaters in her oven.

For the first seven weeks of this semester, I’ll be taking the first class in my concentration. In seven weeks, I will learn an entire semester’s worth of material. This is not a new concept, as all of my classes in grad school thus far have been in the seven-week accelerated format. This is just fine by me but it does mean that things go pretty quickly and doesn’t really leave much time to slack off and miss classes. Not that I ever would, of course,since I’m such a perfect student and never skipped classes in college- ever. If life was like Pinocchio and everyone suffered from the nose-growing disorder he suffered from, I surely would look ridiculous right now.

Side Note:  Speaking of Pinocchio, I haven’t seen that movie in forevs because the live-action version with JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas, aka the love of my life when I was ten years old) really, really freaked me out. And I’m fairly certain the animated version by Disney was creeps as fuck too. Maybe now that I’m old and a grown-ass woman I should re-watch the movies that scared the hell out of me when I was younger. What would that list include, I wonder? E.T. would definitely be on that list. I haven’t seen that shit since before I can even remember!!

Anyway, now that this post has completely gotten away from me and gone to a way more exciting topic, I’ll go back to the boring shit I was telling you about at the beginning. My point was, it’s the eve of my first class of this school year. It’s the first class of my concentration, and just between you and me, because I’m a huge nerd and really, really like school, I’m SUPER excited to be getting into the core classes of the reason I’m going to school. I read my textbook for my pre-assignment and got really excited to be a part of class discussions. I’m excited for my brain to act as an eager sponge and just soak up all the information coming at me!

People with rolly backpacks disgust me.

The best part is, I really, really love the first day of school. As far back as I can remember, I’ve loved it. Well, except for that one year in elementary school when I was afraid of my teacher on the first day of school and was too much of a pansy to ask to go to the bathroom so I wet my pants and tried to hide the puddle of pee on the tiny chair I was seated in.  But, really, besides that, the first day of school and I are, like, besties.

I love brand new school supplies. I love shopping for school supplies. I love seeing everyone walking around campus and filing into classrooms. Everyone just seems so much happier on the first day of classes than all of the other times they walk into class. The first day of school just gives people a pep in their step! And frankly, I love that kind of shit.

I also really, really love getting the class syllabus. Sure, that gets sent out beforehand sometimes, but I like all the time the professor spends going over it, like we don’t have eyes and can’t possibly read or understand what they mean just by reading it. I love going through the class calendar and color coding my planner. I enjoy seeing how much I’m going to hate my life because seven weeks goes by in a flash and that means a large assignment is due every single week.

Anyway, I hope everyone has an enjoyable first day of school, whether it already happened for Fall 2010 or if it’s still to come after Labor Day.  I guess if you’re reading this and don’t have a first day of school anymore, then I feel sad for you. Because it’s one of the many joys in my life. And I look forward to the day I’m a parent someday (bahahaha I should never have kids) and can scar those children with how much I love the first day of school.