Wednesday, February 27, 2008

when my sister saved the day

In an effort to save money and watch less TV, Hubby and I decided to cut out the cable TV once we moved into our new house. Well, after his purchase of a fancy new flat screen TV, we HAD to get the basic cable that allows us to see channels 1-13, but we kept our resolve to no longer have the extended cable.

It was hard to let go. I still miss the reruns of "Gilmore Girls," but it was something I could live without. I have kids to play with! And a house to maintain! But then my sister hit me hard: "Erin, how are you going to watch Project Runway?"

I stared at her blankly. Being November when we moved to our house, I hadn't even thought of Project Runway. Tim Gunn was not on my radar. My "I Make it Work" t-shirt was hanging in the back of my closet with my other short-sleeved clothes. So H bringing this up now, well, I didn't have an answer.

"You can watch it at my house," she answered quickly, "I'll DVR it for you."

H saved the day and the season. Although I haven't been watching PR weekly, I'm almost caught up on the shows, and tomorrow I'll watch tonight's finale. Bring on the sewing!

Friday, February 22, 2008

the oscars

Can I just say I am so happy that darn Writers' Strike is over? They took away "Samantha, Who?" and "The Office," but I held strong to the writers' plight and shook my fist at those greedy studio heads. Then their picket line took away the Globes, and with it all the pretty dresses, and I began to waiver in my defense of the writers. As the Oscars neared I began getting nervous. What does the spring look like without the Oscars? I am happy, dear friends, that this year we won't have to know. On Sunday night I will be firmly planted in front of the TV during the red carpet so that I can have my first glimpse of the dresses, and then I will move on, happy, and get back to my world.

Wednesday, February 20, 2008

what are your kids watching?

There is this show on Nick, Jr. called "Yo Gabba Gabba" with an extremely skinny DJ Lance who walks around with an old-school boombox and blurts out "Yoooooo Gabba Gabba!" and then four or five life-sized puppets come to life and dance around all silly. The show is pretty trippy but I like it because it attempts to teach the kids how to be nice to eachother and wait in line ("You gotta wait in line. It's only fair to wait right there.") and lots of other good-citizen stuff. The big bonus is that they have kids dancing to segue into the next clip, and there is this kid named Nathan, who can't be older than four, who dances in this frenzy with his eyes closed and he KILLS me. So, to summarize, Yo Gabba Gabba is trippy but a good happy little show.

On Sunday afternoon Daddy and Little Missy were upstairs sleeping while G and I were downstairs watching PBS cartoons. Then, this ridiculous show called Q-Buh or something comes on and it is a total rip-off of the Teletubbies. In my house we do not watch the Teletubbies because I believe it is a silly show with no point, and it annoys me. Q-Buh also has life-sized puppets who dance around by shuffling their feet for a good 3-4 minutes and then that is it. No "Be nice to your neighbor" or "Be respectful at the post office." NOTHING. Then these kids say "Q-BUH!" and they float in a bubble to the park in front of San Francisco's Painted Ladies, sit on the ground and do a dance with their feet. This lasts another 3-4 minutes. The entire show is filled with silliness like this. What is the point? Why are my tax dollars paying for this? That show should be scrapped and the time slot filled "Curious George." Now that is a good show.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

my family, part 1

These are some of the things I love about my 3 1/2 year old G:

G is a rowdy boy with a very sweet spirit. First thing after he wakes up in the morning it's "Let's go check on Little Missy!" He'll tiptoe to see his sister on the bed and if she's awake he'll try to coax her downstairs to play, and if she's asleep he'll say in his loud "whisper" "Let's leave her alone. Sssshhhh."

On My Man's birthday I had G sit down on the floor to draw a pretty picture for his daddy and G sat down and promptly wrote his own name. That was the first time ever. The first time I had even seen him intentionally write any sort of letter, singular, especially not an entire name.

Me: "Whaaaa???? G, I didn't know you could write your name!"

G: smiles up at me. "Mm-hmm."

Me: "When did you learn how to do that? Has Daddy been helping you?"

G: "Mm-hmm."

Well, Daddy hadn't been helping G write his name, the kid had simply seen his name on the wall enough times that he decided to write it himself.

Last week after his nap G caught me looking (spying) out the window at our neighbor's house because there was a sheriff's car and a police car outside, with the corresponding officers on the neighbor's porch.

G: "Mommy, why are you looking out the window?"

Me: "Oh, just because."

G: "Are you looking at the police cars outside?"

I don't even know how G had seen those police cars through the window I was looking, but I can't get much past this kid.

Most of all, I love how sweet G is. When his sister is crying he raises his voice an octave "Here, Little Missy. Do you want this car?" Or he'll hug her "It's okay, it's okay." Right now they are sitting on the stairs, sharing a can of peanuts, and being sweet with eachother. Wait, that moment is over. Now, the peanuts are spilled, G has turned the can over and is banging on the bottom with a kitchen spoon, and Little Missy is standing at the top of the stairs, dancing, smiling. How can I be mad at the mess when they're so sweet with eachother?

Monday, February 18, 2008

hello, world!

In an attempt to keep in touch with family who is far away (hello Austin! hello Edmonds!), friends who are far away (that's you Amy and Gina [and Shalonda, if you ever decide to join the computer age]), as well as new friends who are learning more about me, I started a blog! So please stop by often, leave comments, let me know of your blog, and then one day we'll all be able to keep in touch with ease.