For those of you not familiar with NaBloPoMo, bloggers can join each other in writing every day in November. (See also: NaNoWriMo.)

I thought and thought all day about what to write about, but I’m kinda stuck. I think I’ve forgotten how.

In hoping to distract you from my writer’s block, I throw other gunk at you.

*thwack* (that was the gunk hitting the wall.)

So you get pictures and a video from Mika’s first band concert.

*choruses of “You Suck!” and “UNFOLLOW!” and “UNSUBSCRIBE” ring out*

Sorry.

There’s always tomorrow.

Well, until 11-30, anyway.

And this was his favorite piece of music they performed. Brought back fond memories of marching and pep band.

As if it wasn’t noisy enough around here with Zaya playing drums, now Mika has decided he wants to play the tuba!

Last spring when the 5th graders were offered band instruments, he came home and said the only thing he would be allowed to play was the flute, and wasn’t really enthused about the situation. Sorry to be stereotypical, but a dude playing the flute? I couldn’t blame him. The only dude I know who can pull that off is James Galway. I thought Mika was a trumpet or sax kinda kid. So it looked like Mika wouldn’t be in band. I was seriously bummed out.

And? I feel it extremely necessary to point out that kids in band? Are NOT “band geeks.” A point which Tom will vehemently deny.

So, actually, I was really pleased when the band teacher called me and said that they had went around to all the new 6th graders and had given them a second chance to be in band. Mika said he wanted to play the tuba!

Of course, his favorite part is that he can make a sound like an elephant fart. [insert 12 year old boy giggles here]

Erin was extremely interested in the incredibly interesting noises emanating from this new thing in her house.

Zaya quickly came up with the idea that Erin looking in the tuba should change to Erin being in the tuba. The mom in me was all, “No, we don’t utilize musical instruments in that manner! Cease and desist immediately!” but the Dory in me was all, “Aw, this is gonna be a great picture!”

Which even more quickly devolved into, “Hey, what happens if we put Elmer in there?”

And the answer to that would be, “You have one really freaked out Elmer on your hands.”

And an Elmer NOT shy about voicing his displeasure. He was NOT pleased with the turn of events.

And furthermore, his fluffy butt makes a great mute.

I like the fun house mirror photo op. Big surprise there.

So I’ll have Zaya practicing drums and Mika practicing tuba DAILY. I see a lot of extremely loud noise in my future.

I love it. :)

(Scene: All Asbee’s are watching a DVD together. And no one is abusing each other. Go figure.)

young son, Mika: Mom, what’s ‘ironic’ mean?

Dory: *thinks about it a moment* Well, it’s kind of hard to explain. … It’s like, when you’re working at your job, and there’s a “No Smoking” sign on the wall when you take your cigarette break.

Mika: *completely confused and bewildered*

Tom: Son, it’s like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife.

Mika: You are both. SO. WEIRD.

Dory: My laptop’s open. Dictionary.com is your friend.

Tom: While you’re at it, look up ‘weird’ and see if our picture is up there.

(End Scene.)

Our children are going to be SO warped.

(FYI… I used to use the name The Dinosaur, or Dino, for the younger son. 1- He’s no longer obsessed with dinosaurs and memorizing entire encyclopedias on The Jurassic Period. 2- I also gave the sons weird names so people can’t google them later and find them here. So I’ll just misspell their names instead from now on. Plus, I never use our real last name on here because I don’t want The GirlBeater googling back here.)

Wordless Wednesday

The Dinosaur is NINE, people.

Yesterday, I was cleaning the basement. Dino came down to see me. He was just goofing around and chattering; and then suddenly, a mood change swept over as his face crumpled. He came to me, sobbing, and said, “I’m… [gasp] going to miss… [snert] being… [gasp] EIGHT.”

*blink*
*blink blink*

I wasn’t sure how exactly to handle it. There’s nothing in the manual about aging lament in children. That’s usually something you have to deal with at a 30th birthday party when you’re holding your girlfriend’s hand and nodding sympathetically as she sobs, “I’m going to miss my twenties.”

You look deep into her leaky eyes and say, “If we were lesbians, I’d totally do you, honey. You’re so smokin’ hawt, you hoochiemama.”

Then buy her a shot of tequila (with lime and salt– lickitslamitsuckit), wahlah, problem solved.

At least until later when the munchies kick in and you’re trying to find her a 24 hour restaurant that has breakfast all day/night and she’s hanging out the car window yelling, “Pancakes! That’s all I want! Is that so WRONG?!” and offering strangers to trade her bra for a sports drink.

So while I’m totally hip on the tequila/pancakes solution, what was I to do with a sobbing newly-nine-year-old? Same thing I do at least once a day– improvise. I hugged him and tried to assure him that NINE was going to be so much more fun than EIGHT. NINE is hawsum, he’s going to looove NINE. He didn’t buy it. He had just lost his best friend, EIGHT, and he didn’t want NINE.

*sigh*

But my baby’s NINE. When did that happen?! Did anyone consult me? Did I miss a memo?

Two days before he was done cookin’

Two weeks old

Christmas 99

Almost 1 year old

2 years old

2002

2003

2004

2005

2006

2007

August 2, 2008 – NINE years old!

You make me happy… angry… ecstatic… suspicious… proud… frustrated… hopeful… sometimes all in one day. Sometimes all in one hour.

Dad blesses you every night with this verse and he always will… “The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make His face shine upon you, And be gracious to you; The LORD lift up His countenance upon you, And give you peace.”’ Numbers 6:24-26 (New King James Version)

Happy Birthday, you little honyock… someday I’ll tell you your whole birth story. It’s a good one.

I love you, boo.

[No Tequila Pancakes were administered to any or all of the children in this story.]