Sherry Ellis's Blog, page 94
December 23, 2012
Have a Little Cookie with Your Sprinkles
Today the kids and I made Christmas cut-out sugar cookies. I let them help me roll the dough and create shapes of all sorts, including pumpkins, shamrocks, motorcycles, and butterflies. (Not very Christmasy, but it works for us.) When we were done with that, I put out the sprinkles and let them have fun decorating. I walked away and did whatever I do.
"We're done," they announced about fifteen minutes later. "We used all the sprinkles!"
"What?" I asked. "There were six full containers of sprinkles. There's no possible way you used all of them!"
"Yeah, we did," said Bubba. "Come and see."
I walked over to the cookies trays. There on the table, were six empty sprinkle containers. On the trays were piles of sprinkles. "Excuse me," I said, brushing some sprinkles to the side. "Where are the cookies?"
Bubba grinned. "Buried. They don't want to get burned!"
"We're done," they announced about fifteen minutes later. "We used all the sprinkles!"
"What?" I asked. "There were six full containers of sprinkles. There's no possible way you used all of them!"
"Yeah, we did," said Bubba. "Come and see."
I walked over to the cookies trays. There on the table, were six empty sprinkle containers. On the trays were piles of sprinkles. "Excuse me," I said, brushing some sprinkles to the side. "Where are the cookies?"
Bubba grinned. "Buried. They don't want to get burned!"
December 22, 2012
The Snowball
Frosty Jr. I see you all survived the end of the world. The Oreo cookie was right when it said not to worry! Now we're good until 2060, when Isaac Newton says the world will end. I'll go with whatever Newton says, because anybody who realizes that apples fall down and not up, is a genious! Anyway, we had a little snow fall in my part of the world. (And I mean, a little - not even an inch.) The kids immediately ran outside to play in it. They made Frosty Jr. pictured above. Isn't he cute? When they were finished, they came in. My son came in with something else. A snowball. "What are you doing with that?" I asked. "I'm putting it in the freezer." "Why?" "Because I'm saving it for next year. I'll add to it and make it bigger." All right, then. So now, ladies and gentlemen, I have a snowball in my freezer along with the hail balls from the storm we had this past summer. Maybe we can get a thunderstorm or even a tornado in there, too! December 20, 2012
The End of the World
The end of the world has come a day early at my pad. You already know about my mutilated mouth (which looks worse each day - I think my upper lip is about to have baby lips!). Now I have the germ my kids had. Yes, I'm sick. Ugh! And the dog is vomitting. Isn't that nice?
So people, I'm going to go snuggle with my rubber chicken and wait for all of this to pass.
You all enjoy the end of the world tomorrow, and I'll see you in a couple of days when it starts back up. (I hope!)
So people, I'm going to go snuggle with my rubber chicken and wait for all of this to pass.
You all enjoy the end of the world tomorrow, and I'll see you in a couple of days when it starts back up. (I hope!)
December 19, 2012
Captain Underpants
Why is it when I don't feel good, that my kids and pets act the worst? I don't understand.
Yesterday, I had that frenum procedure done, which left me with a seriously puffed up upper lip.
"Mom, you look like a duck," my daughter said. She promptly got out her iPod and took a video of me. Being the good-natured individual I am, I gave her a good show. "I'm going to post this on Youtube," she said.
I scowled at her. "If you do, you're grounded forever!" (No, you are not going to see a video of me looking like a duck!)
Then the dumb dog came over with his slobbery tug. He shoved that thing into my lap. "No, Schultz, I'm not playing tug with you. Leave me alone!" He kept doing it. Finally, I had to take it away. I don't think he was pleased.
Two seconds later, my son ran down the stairs, dressed in nothing but his underware and a black vampire cape.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked.
"I'm Captain Underpants!" he said with a big grin on his face.
"Bubba, just because I look like a duck, doesn't mean you can look like Captain Underpants. Go put on some clothes!"
"Tra la la!" he shouted and ran off to chase the dog.
(Remind me not to get him anymore Captain Underpants books!)
Of course my husband was out of town, and I had to deal with this zoo crew all by myself.
When he came home this morning, he took one look at me. "Can I get some orange paint and paint your upper lip? I'll get you some orange socks, too, and you can be a duck!"
Oy gewalt!
Yesterday, I had that frenum procedure done, which left me with a seriously puffed up upper lip.
"Mom, you look like a duck," my daughter said. She promptly got out her iPod and took a video of me. Being the good-natured individual I am, I gave her a good show. "I'm going to post this on Youtube," she said.
I scowled at her. "If you do, you're grounded forever!" (No, you are not going to see a video of me looking like a duck!)
Then the dumb dog came over with his slobbery tug. He shoved that thing into my lap. "No, Schultz, I'm not playing tug with you. Leave me alone!" He kept doing it. Finally, I had to take it away. I don't think he was pleased.
Two seconds later, my son ran down the stairs, dressed in nothing but his underware and a black vampire cape.
"What do you think you're doing?" I asked.
"I'm Captain Underpants!" he said with a big grin on his face.
"Bubba, just because I look like a duck, doesn't mean you can look like Captain Underpants. Go put on some clothes!"
"Tra la la!" he shouted and ran off to chase the dog.
(Remind me not to get him anymore Captain Underpants books!)
Of course my husband was out of town, and I had to deal with this zoo crew all by myself.
When he came home this morning, he took one look at me. "Can I get some orange paint and paint your upper lip? I'll get you some orange socks, too, and you can be a duck!"
Oy gewalt!
December 18, 2012
Laughing Through Surgery
Don't smile! Stop it. I'm serious. Smiling is hazardous to your health! You'll end up like me, needing surgery.
You think I'm kidding? Nope. I just came back from having my frenum detached and my gums cut up. If you followed me a year ago, you might remember that I had some surgery on my gums to remove some odd scar tissue. We didn't know what caused it, but we hoped that it wouldn't ever be a problem, again. Well, it came back.
"Sherry," the oral surgeon said, "I think the problem is that every time you smile, your frenum irritates your gum and causes blistering and scaring."
"Great," I said. "So you're saying that every time I smile, I'm hurting myself?"
He nodded. "Pretty much."
So that's like every three seconds.
He felt that detaching the frenum would correct the problem. So I went in to have that little procedure done. I opted for a shot in the gums to numb the area, rather than be put to sleep, which meant I was fully aware of what was going on.
My upper lip was pulled back so far that it literally covered my nostrils. I thought that was hilarious. Then my bottom lip started quivering.
"Sorry, I have tickle your bottom lip," said the surgeon.
He had to?
Well, that did it. I couldn't help it. I just started cracking up.
"Why are you laughing?" the surgeon asked. "This isn't funny!"
I tried real hard to control myself, because I didn't want him to mess up. When he was done, he wiped the blood off my face. I started cracking up again.
He shook his head. "Sherry, I've never had a patient laugh through surgery."
I tried to grin with my swollen, numb lips. "Yeah, I'm a one-of-a-kind!"
So here I am, typing away, looking like a super model with swollen lips. Okay. Maybe not a super model, but I definitely have the swollen lip thing going on. The good news is, the surgeon says in two weeks, I'll be able to smile without hurting myself. I hope!
You think I'm kidding? Nope. I just came back from having my frenum detached and my gums cut up. If you followed me a year ago, you might remember that I had some surgery on my gums to remove some odd scar tissue. We didn't know what caused it, but we hoped that it wouldn't ever be a problem, again. Well, it came back.
"Sherry," the oral surgeon said, "I think the problem is that every time you smile, your frenum irritates your gum and causes blistering and scaring."
"Great," I said. "So you're saying that every time I smile, I'm hurting myself?"
He nodded. "Pretty much."
So that's like every three seconds.
He felt that detaching the frenum would correct the problem. So I went in to have that little procedure done. I opted for a shot in the gums to numb the area, rather than be put to sleep, which meant I was fully aware of what was going on.
My upper lip was pulled back so far that it literally covered my nostrils. I thought that was hilarious. Then my bottom lip started quivering.
"Sorry, I have tickle your bottom lip," said the surgeon.
He had to?
Well, that did it. I couldn't help it. I just started cracking up.
"Why are you laughing?" the surgeon asked. "This isn't funny!"
I tried real hard to control myself, because I didn't want him to mess up. When he was done, he wiped the blood off my face. I started cracking up again.
He shook his head. "Sherry, I've never had a patient laugh through surgery."
I tried to grin with my swollen, numb lips. "Yeah, I'm a one-of-a-kind!"
So here I am, typing away, looking like a super model with swollen lips. Okay. Maybe not a super model, but I definitely have the swollen lip thing going on. The good news is, the surgeon says in two weeks, I'll be able to smile without hurting myself. I hope!
December 17, 2012
Dirty Dog
Apparently, our German Shepherd, Schultz, likes baths. I have come to this conclusion because lately, he has done everything possible to ensure he gets one every day.
Three days ago, he came in, covered with mud from head to toe. He shook himself and mud splattered all over the walls.
"Schultz, that's disgusting," I said. "You need a bath!"
He cocked his head and charged upstairs to the bathtub, leaving a trail of muddy footprints all over the carpet.
We gave him a bath, and he was clean and shiny. (Of course our bathroom was not. It needed a bath after Schultz got done in there.)
The next day, my husband let him outside.
"He's going to get dirty," I warned.
Sure enough, he chased the neighbor's dogs along the fence line and got filthy.
"Crate!" I hollared.
He trotted in, leaving another trail of mud. We filled the tub with water and sent him upstairs. He charged into the bathtub, happy as could be.
Afterwards, he was clean and shiny, but our bathroom was not.
The next day, my son let him out.
"You are kidding," I said. "Don't you people believe in leashes?" I called the dog back, but it was too late. He was covered in mud. I sent him to his crate. "Schultz, you should be ashamed of yourself!"
He wasn't. He sat in his crate with his tongue hanging out, and a huge smile plastered on his furry, muddy face. He knew he was getting another bath.
That dog is pretty smart. I think he has us trained!
Three days ago, he came in, covered with mud from head to toe. He shook himself and mud splattered all over the walls.
"Schultz, that's disgusting," I said. "You need a bath!"
He cocked his head and charged upstairs to the bathtub, leaving a trail of muddy footprints all over the carpet.
We gave him a bath, and he was clean and shiny. (Of course our bathroom was not. It needed a bath after Schultz got done in there.)
The next day, my husband let him outside.
"He's going to get dirty," I warned.
Sure enough, he chased the neighbor's dogs along the fence line and got filthy.
"Crate!" I hollared.
He trotted in, leaving another trail of mud. We filled the tub with water and sent him upstairs. He charged into the bathtub, happy as could be.
Afterwards, he was clean and shiny, but our bathroom was not.
The next day, my son let him out.
"You are kidding," I said. "Don't you people believe in leashes?" I called the dog back, but it was too late. He was covered in mud. I sent him to his crate. "Schultz, you should be ashamed of yourself!"
He wasn't. He sat in his crate with his tongue hanging out, and a huge smile plastered on his furry, muddy face. He knew he was getting another bath.
That dog is pretty smart. I think he has us trained!
December 16, 2012
The Orangutan Experiment
Both of my kids are sick today. My daughter has a temperature of 101.6, and my son has a temperature of 102.7. Not good! After giving them some Motrin and Matzo Ball soup, they regained a little of their sense of humor.
"Mama, what's wrong with me?" my son asked.
"Bubba, you have a virus," I replied.
"Can you take me to the doctor so I can get rid of it?"
"There's no cure for viruses. You just have to wait for your body to fight it."
He didn't like that answer. "I'm going to be a scientist when I grow up, and I'm going to find a cure!"
"That's good," I said. "I hope you succeed."
"Mama, which monkey is closest to a human?"
I wondered where this conversation was going. "I believe orangutans are genetically closest to humans." (I think I remember reading this fact somewhere, so if you want to confirm or correct this, please feel free.)
"I'm going to gather a bunch of orangutans and conduct some experiments on them. First, I'll inject them with a virus. Then I'll get every possible chemical there is, and inject it into them. Something has to work!"
My daughter, the animal lover, objected. "Bubba, that's cruelty to animals! You can't do that. Mom, don't let him do that!"
Okay. So here's the plan. We're going to round up all the orangutans and get them on a spaceship. Then we're going to send them off to the Planet of the Apes, where they can live out their lives, free of my son's mad scientist experiments. Does anybody want to help?
"Mama, what's wrong with me?" my son asked.
"Bubba, you have a virus," I replied.
"Can you take me to the doctor so I can get rid of it?"
"There's no cure for viruses. You just have to wait for your body to fight it."
He didn't like that answer. "I'm going to be a scientist when I grow up, and I'm going to find a cure!"
"That's good," I said. "I hope you succeed."
"Mama, which monkey is closest to a human?"
I wondered where this conversation was going. "I believe orangutans are genetically closest to humans." (I think I remember reading this fact somewhere, so if you want to confirm or correct this, please feel free.)
"I'm going to gather a bunch of orangutans and conduct some experiments on them. First, I'll inject them with a virus. Then I'll get every possible chemical there is, and inject it into them. Something has to work!"
My daughter, the animal lover, objected. "Bubba, that's cruelty to animals! You can't do that. Mom, don't let him do that!"
Okay. So here's the plan. We're going to round up all the orangutans and get them on a spaceship. Then we're going to send them off to the Planet of the Apes, where they can live out their lives, free of my son's mad scientist experiments. Does anybody want to help?
December 15, 2012
What I'm Getting for Christmas
"Woman," my husband said. "I know what I'm getting you for Christmas."
This ought to be good, I thought. "What am I getting for Christmas?"
"A dog named Sherry."
"What?" I couldn't believe it. Wasn't one dog enough?
"Yep. It'll be another German Shepherd. And she'll do everything you don't. She'll come when she's called. She'll sit. She'll heel. She'll fetch."
I gave him one of my looks. "Yeah, and she'll lick your nose after she's licked her bottom."
Can you believe it? A dog named Sherry. I'll rank this one along with the toilet I got for Mother's Day. He sure knows how to pick presents!
This ought to be good, I thought. "What am I getting for Christmas?"
"A dog named Sherry."
"What?" I couldn't believe it. Wasn't one dog enough?
"Yep. It'll be another German Shepherd. And she'll do everything you don't. She'll come when she's called. She'll sit. She'll heel. She'll fetch."
I gave him one of my looks. "Yeah, and she'll lick your nose after she's licked her bottom."
Can you believe it? A dog named Sherry. I'll rank this one along with the toilet I got for Mother's Day. He sure knows how to pick presents!
December 14, 2012
What I Learned at D.A.R.E. Graduation
Today, my daughter graduated from the D.A.R.E program. If you don't know what that is, it's a program where officers come in and instruct kids how to say "no" to drugs, alcohal, and tobacco, and how to handle bullies. Parents were invited to come in and watch the ceremony, so of course I attended.
It was a very nice ceremony. After the officers talked to the kids, they had a few words for the parents. "This is what you need to know," said one of the officers. "First, you need to be a pencil. Not a marker. That's so you can erase your mistakes."
Okay.
"Second, you must carry with you at all times, a rubber chicken."
Huh?
"That's so you can tell people that you are not a chicken. And then you pull out the chicken and say, 'this is a chicken!'"
Well, that makes sense.
"And finally, don't worry. Be happy!"
Wait- one more thing. My daughter has a message she wants to say: "If someone insults you, you have to say out loud, 'you're good at soccer!'"
All right, then. Be happy!
It was a very nice ceremony. After the officers talked to the kids, they had a few words for the parents. "This is what you need to know," said one of the officers. "First, you need to be a pencil. Not a marker. That's so you can erase your mistakes."
Okay.
"Second, you must carry with you at all times, a rubber chicken."
Huh?
"That's so you can tell people that you are not a chicken. And then you pull out the chicken and say, 'this is a chicken!'"
Well, that makes sense.
"And finally, don't worry. Be happy!"
Wait- one more thing. My daughter has a message she wants to say: "If someone insults you, you have to say out loud, 'you're good at soccer!'"
All right, then. Be happy!
December 13, 2012
The Lost Scream
My son was home sick today. The germ apparently affected his voice.
"Mama," he croaked. "I need a scream recharger." He demonstrated by attempting to scream. The sound that came out sounded something like a strangled chicken. (Like I know what one of those sound like!)
"Bubba, you need to rest your voice!"
"No Mama, I need to find my voice. Can you help me?"
Um, yeah.
So, ladies and gentleman, if you happen to find my boy's voice lying around somewhere, please hide it in a place where it can never be found. Do not return it. I repeat, do not return it! I kind of like that the scream is gone.
"Mama," he croaked. "I need a scream recharger." He demonstrated by attempting to scream. The sound that came out sounded something like a strangled chicken. (Like I know what one of those sound like!)
"Bubba, you need to rest your voice!"
"No Mama, I need to find my voice. Can you help me?"
Um, yeah.
So, ladies and gentleman, if you happen to find my boy's voice lying around somewhere, please hide it in a place where it can never be found. Do not return it. I repeat, do not return it! I kind of like that the scream is gone.
