Jammin' Boyz

The Post Wherein I Show You My Boys' Spotify List (in part) and Pontificate on Each Song:

Smooth Grandmama:  This is a parody of Smooth Criminal, by Apologetix.  It is pretty funny, as many of their songs are.  Including lines such as "Granny karaokes to old tapes of Sandy Patty" and "Granny causes road rage, in slow lanes, she's no Andretti".  Smooth Grandmama basically asks you to repent and ask Jesus into your heart while making your head spin trying to catch all the fast-paced lyrics.

I'll Make a Man Out of You: From Mulan.  The girls were watching this movie several months ago and the boys latched onto this song.  In a big way.  So sing along with Donny Osmond we have.  The refrain is the title line, but one of my boys prefer to sing "I'll make a man from your poo!"

Gangnam Style:  I don't really have words for this one.  Not a big fan.  At all.  But my favorite part of this song is linked here, in this previous blog post.  Lots of crazy and strange dancing when this one comes on.

What Does the Fox Say:  Oh my, oh my.  If we have heard this song 10 times, we have heard it 100. I only wish I was joking, but that is the sad, sad truth.  My eldest has played this song over and over and over.  I can sing harmony like nobody's business here, and I know ALL the possible noises a fox can make, just in case that ever comes in handy in real life.

That Snail is Fast:  From the movie Turbo.  It's relatively catchy, actually, waxing eloquent about how speedy Turbo the snail is.  I haven't seen the movie, but apparently that snail is fast.

Another One Bites the Dust:  Ok, it's Queen.  Need I say more?  This one passes muster.

Fallen Kingdom:  A Minecraft song, to the tune of Coldplay's Viva La Vida.  I love Coldplay's version, so even though strange and alien lyrics are being blared out of the computer's speakers, I loudly counter with the proper lyrics.  This makes me happy.

Several Other Minecraft Songs:  I don't know their names and I don't care to.  I'm sure they have names, but they don't deserve a shout out here.  They make my head hurt.

Eye of the Tiger:  Back in the day, I loved this song.  But over the last several years, it has been  a theme song around this joint, which has causes it to lose its luster.  Sorry Survivor.


It goes without saying that I sing the lyrics to all these songs, regardless of my like or dislike of them.  As I mentioned above, I also sing harmony when appropriate.

A Rose By Any Other Name

My children take great pleasure in changing the settings on my iPhone. I frequently find my screen's wallpaper changed (to a pic of the child in question of course), icons moved around to suit the current user, my ringtones reset to annoying tunes. . .you get the idea.

But their favorite pastime, the piece de resistance, is changing Siri's nickname for me.  I have been called a variety of names, but the last two take the cake.  First, my eldest daughter changed it to Poupee, which cracked me up every time I saw it.  We took to giving it a French pronunciation and accent whenever we used it in casual conversation (which of course we did often).  But a few weeks ago, my middle son changed my nickname to I like pooping.  I'll tell you what, I couldn't change it.  Because every time I saw an email thread referencing me as I like pooping, it made me laugh.  A lot.  And really, who doesn't like pooping?

But today I was talking to Siri and asking her to text someone, and she said to me "Thank you, I like pooping, I'll make a note of it!" It caught me off guard and I found it most comical.

I can't quite bring myself to change it.  Every time I see it (or hear it), I smile and think of my silly son.

**And now, since the children are reading over my shoulder, they have changed it again.  I should probably have stricter rules about who is allowed to touch that thing.**

Carrot Top

I recently read an article full of interesting little-known facts about redheads.  Being a redhead, I found it most interesting.  And since I read it on the internet, it must be true.  Among the "facts" I found are these:

Redheads have less hair on their heads.   I find this incredibly hard to believe in my case.  I have enough hair for 5 people, and I would be willing to share, especially in the hot summer months.  In the winter, it is rather like wearing a hat all the time, which is actually rather helpful.

Redheads don't go gray.  LIE.  I am already getting streaks, far before my time, being that I am only 40 years young.  I am not sure what to do about these errant grays, either, having never dyed or highlighted my hair.  So far, I plan to leave them alone until I am driven to a point of action.  Or perhaps I will not be, and will embrace my age gracefully.

Red hair and blue eyes is the rarest combination in the world (1%!).  Okay, this is me.  And my best friend from high school.  And, according to my FB feed when I posted this quiz, several other of my FB friends.  SO - either I am drawn to other amazingly rare people by some strong magnetic force, or perhaps it is not as rare as the article indicates.  I did suggest to my husband that I have not been treated heretofore as the rare creature that my DNA dictates.

They're more sensitive to thermal pain.  I'm not exactly sure what encompasses thermal pain, but I can tell you that I have a low pain tolerance.  Or I'm just a wienie.  But I know that when I mentioned this one to my husband, he started nodding and rolling his eyes.

This article, written in the UK, also referred to redheads as gingers.  I can't exactly tell you why, but I really dislike that term.  Don't question me - I am a rare creature, prone to erratic opinions and feelings.

A couple of interesting facts I have observed about redheads over the years:

They cannot wear the color red well.  Or yellow or burgundy.

We will be extinct by the year 2060, per my one of my children.

We have a certain affinity for Annie and Anne of Green Gables.  Well, that might just be me.  I dearly thought I should have been cast as Annie in the 1980s movie, and I was a certain kindred spirit with Anne Shirley.

And, according to my beloved grandma, circa 1985, we have designer genes.

TORO!

Last night at dinner we were discussing our upcoming plans to visit Yellowstone National Park.  My husband was getting the kids pumped up about all we will see, including all the wildlife.  The kids started shouting out (and yes, shouting is what I mean - no one speaks reasonably when excited in our house - just keepin' it real) different animals they hoped to see.

"I wanna see a lynx!"

"I hope we see a buffalo!"

One of my dear children was apparently concerned about seeing a more vicious animal, for he shouted out:

"I'm not packing any red shirts!"

Back for the Attack (well, getting there slowly)

Last Tuesday night, I cleaned out the game cabinet.  I found all sorts of games to get rid of and made the cabinet look much better.  My dear hubby took the kids upstairs to put them to bed and I stacked up all the games in my arms to take them downstairs.  In lieu of making two trips, I managed to balance all of them in my two hands.  Then I headed down to the basement.

And changed the future (not to be dramatic or anything).

As I neared the bottom of the steps, my slippered foot slipped out from under me, causing my legs to fly up in the air and me to land on the step behind me.  It seems all of my weight hit the step in one place on my lower back.

After calling pathetically for my husband two floors above, I managed to get to the first floor, where he heard me.  We got to the couch, where I was still harboring the delusion that I just got hurt and wasn't injured.  After much discussion, we decided to wait until the next morning to go to the doctor, where the X-rays showed nothing was broken, thank God.  I just suffered severe bruising to the tissue in one localized spot.

And so, my love affair with the recliner (part two) began.  For the better part of the last week, I have sat in the recliner.  Only Saturday did I really start to be up a bit more, and each day I am glad to report has been incrementally better. I can finally tell I am beginning to heal.  Still very sore, but not excruciating anymore.

Some of my takeaways from this experience:

• Make multiple trips to the basement.  Though I wasn't holding anything heavy, my arms were too full to grab the banister when I slipped.  I have certainly done dumber things (like carrying way heavy boxes), but I have resolved to be more cautious on the stairs.  I would prefer to never experience something like this again.
• Law and Order has been on for a seriously long time.  I have been watching enough episodes to make my eyes bleed, as nothing else (even reading, oddly) has sounded appealing.  The last couple of days I have watched the oldest episodes, including the first season from 1990.  It has made me strangely nostalgic for those times - the fashions, hairstyles, the dated computers.
• Your back affects EVERY part of your body.  Well, almost.  Leaning slightly, flexing my foot, scooting to the side in the chair. . .all of it and much more made my back hurt.  
• I make some ridiculous sounds when I am in a lot of pain.  I was annoyed at myself even as I was making them right after the fall.
• My family and friends are amazing.  I already knew this, of course, but it was shown to me again through acts of love and kindness.  My parents promptly offered to come up for the weekend and ferry the children to and fro, do laundry, grocery shop - you name it.  They were slaves to my crew, and smiled through the whole thing.  They were indispensable.   Other family texted and called daily checking up on me.  Friends brought dinner, ran errands, helped with kids and called and texted often, offering to help (something I have trouble accepting).  My husband and I were humbled by everyone's kindnesses to us.
• My husband is amazing.  Within minutes of settling me on the couch, he was delivering ibuprofen and a heating pad (which we later replaced with ice), thus beginning a period of servitude I am still experiencing.  He (while instructing the children to help out as well) did everything for me and the kids.  All my work and all of his.  He was tireless and loving in his care.  He was plenty busy with his own job, but made caring for me a priority.  I am blessed immensely by this man!
• God's hand is always present.  My fall could have been so very much worse.  God protected me from a broken bone or something even more dire.  My husband was home, which was a blessing beyond measure.  I have had continual dialogue with God, thanking him for protecting me from a far more serious situation.