Today, when my mother kindly invited us to dinner, Ruby had this to add:
RUBY: Grandma? This time can you make roast beef and Madagascar?
ME: Do you mean mashed potatoes?
RUBY: <Smirks>
Her inner smart-ass is so smart it even tricks her sometimes. At least she still gets a kick out of it.
Lora
As you may have heard, I got this weird rash on my face. First my doctor thought it was Lupus. Then after my blood work came back negative for that (but positive for me!) he wrote me a $60 prescription. I used it and it didn’t get rid of my rash.
I went back last week. Now, he thinks maybe it’s rosacea. So he wrote me a prescription for that. This time it was $90. Unless he can write me a complimentary prescription to clear up my nagging case of broke-ass, I’m not paying it, so I’m going to try to treat it on my own with Dr. Mom’s home remedies.
Then I decided to quit having my bake stand at the Farmer’s Market. I am not a quitter, but the stress of everything on top of everything else was too much, and the market stand was kind of pushing me into Crazyville. The day I decided to quit, my rash got 50% better.
Anyway, I still have this lingering rash in patches here and there, that I thought were relatively unnoticeable. Probably because it looks so much better. Tonight, however, Little Miss Observant McMicroscopicEyeBalls, a.k.a. Ruby Banks, noticed it was still there. Here is how she decided to comfort her poor, red, bumpy mother:
RUBY: Mom, are you going to go back to the doctor so he can get rid of that rash?
ME: No, I’m going to try to get rid of it on my own.
RUBY: Well, I think it might be time for you to buy a new face.
ME: Excuse me?!?!
RUBY: (With the smirkiest little smirk that you ever did see) Well, don’t worry. You can just get a new face but put your old hair back on.
ME: Thanks.
I am HILARIOUS!
On the bright side, I think she did unveil another source of stress that could be contributing to my face rash. I’m not pointing fingers but her name starts with “R” and ends with “uby.”
IrRASHionally yours,
Lora
This afternoon Ruby and Emma got up from their naps and came down the stairs individually. I guess Emma needed an extra second in bed or whatever. (NOTE TO EMMA: I can relate. Let’s keep this in mind tomorrow at 6:30AM). Anyway, this happened.
Thump, thump, thump (down the stairs), walks right to me, and without a hello or anything…
RUBY: If you’re a grown up or a kid and you want to change yourself, you can but you always have to be yourself.
Walks directly to the couch and sits down.
And a second later…
Thump, thump, thump (down the stairs), walks right to me, and without a hello or anything…
EMMA: Mom? Was I sleeping on a polar bear?
Walks directly to the couch and sits down.
Same movie, different language. You gots to love those kiddles.
Peace out,
Lora
I love my siblings. I really do. I know, I know. A lot of people really love their siblings, but in my family it’s different. They’re all so incredibly supportive of EVERYTHING I so much as THINK of doing, they’re all amazingly thoughtful, and they’re all hilarious. I just love the crap out of them.
So, for a while there, I was the only parent among my siblings, until my sister Jenny was blessed with her little Olivia. Just over two years ago I became an auntie to this kid.
I know what you’re thinking and you’re right. She’s the sweetest. But you’re not 100% right, because she is actually tied for sweetest with my second niece, her sister, Emily.
Right? Obviously, I was meant to be an aunt if my nieces turn out this good. You’re WELCOME Jenny and Kevin. Sheesh, parents. They’re always trying to take all the credit. Anyway…
A couple of weeks ago, Jenny came to visit from New Brunswick with her two little sweet peas. You heard me…New Brunswick. As in New-as-east-as-you-can-get-without-falling-in-the-Atlantic-Brunswick. Move closer already! Anyway, it was wonderful to see them, and I’m sure that the hassle of going on a car-plane-car ride to and from New Brunswick with a two-year-old and a newborn was worth it if only for this photo.
Look out biology enthusiasts. We’ve got a new phenomenon on our hands.
Ruby and Emma Banks, at 19-months apart, are the world’s first pair of different-aged conjoined siblings.
Siblings Ruby (aged 4) and Emma (aged 2.75) may appear to be just two, normal sisters wearing their mother’s (stretchy-not-huge) pajama pants, but this is simply not the case.
If you were to strip away those forced, cheesy smiles, you might find a scene like the one portrayed in this next chilling photo, to be the more common case.
This morning I set the kids up to do a craft, which involved paint, picture frames and father’s day. I don’t want to give away any secrets in case Chris reads this. We’re good with secrets around here. If you’re looking for tips, here’s how Ruby kept her Father’s Day crafts a secret.
Secret Keeping Tactic Part 1: Saying, “Dad, today we’re going to do a craft for…Mother’s Day, NOT Father’s Day, okay?”
Secret Keeping Tactic Part 2: Saying, “Dad? Nothing!”
Secret Keeping Tactic Part 3: Saying, “We’re not painting anything for you, Dad.”
Secret Keeping Tactic Part 4: Deciding that as long as Dad is in the next room, we can feel free to scream out every detail regarding the secret craft at the top of our lungs. And when I say “our” lungs, I mean “Ruby and Emma’s” lungs.
So I set the kids up with their secret craft, and I got to work on my grocery list. While I was coming up with the list I overheard the word “tattoo” several times, but it didn’t really sink in. Until I turned around to find this:
I think I would have been more mad if it didn’t suit them so well. Like, really, they look pretty cool right?
Anyway, here’s what went down:
Yesterday it was HOT here. Like firey bowels of Hell hot…but with a humidex. Anyway, we got out the trusty sprinkler to cool off.
Of course, this happened.
And then everyone wanted in on the fun.
See? My eco-kids are all about sustainability. They moved the mud puddle that would have eventually been absorbed by the ground, into the plastic (now dented) lid to their sandbox. Smarties.
It’s situations like this one that happened this morning, that make me confident that Ruby will do just fine in the real world.
ME: (In my nicest, lets-all-get-along, convincing voice) Emma, why don’t you give your soother to Ben, since you’re a big girl now, and he’s still a baby?
EMMA: Hmph.
RUBY: (In her nicest, lets-all-get-along, convincing voice) Mom, why don’t you give me some money, since you’re a mom and I’m just a little girl?
Hmph.
So much pea-tentail!
Sorry,
Lora
This morning I was humming “Baby” by Justin Bieber (because I don’t know why). Ruby asked me what song it was so I showed her the Biebs on the internet. Here’s what she had to say.
RUBY: Is that a boy or a girl?
ME: A boy.
RUBY: Is he a boy or a man?
ME: A boy.
RUBY: He sounds like a baby girl.
First parent-to-a-young-girl crisis: Averted. We will not be attending any Justin Bieber concerts, or purchasing any Bieb-related paraphernalia in the near future.
“I’m a baby, baby, baby girl.”
Lora
Finally. It’s here. No more snowsuits. No more hats and mitts. No more boots. It’s all bare feet and sunscreen from here on out.
It’s been BEAUTIFUL here lately. And on one of the many awesome days we’ve been having lately, we broke out the old sprinkler. It is always a hit. It’s the great equalizer. No one, regardless of their age, gender, race, or creed can deny that the splash of a sprinkler on your feet on a super hot day makes you giddy.
My kiddles happen to agree.
