Stand-Up Comic or Saint in Training?

Remember the boy named “trouble”? It was Saturday afternoon and the poor kids got dragged to a special Mass with the Bishop. But it had its compensations. Alex always thinks the Knights of Columbus, with their sabers and capes and feathered hats, are worth watching. And Nicholas put on a one-toddler comedy act during  the Eucharistic Prayer–or so I am told by my cousin, who had the dubious honor of holding him during it.

“At some point,” she said, “he caught the Bishop’s eye, and the bishop was praying with his hands folded, and Nicholas went…”

“Then, after a few minutes, the Bishop interlaced his fingers, and Nicholas went…”

“And then, one of those poor priest up behind the altar just started busting a gut,” she said, “because the Bishop held his hands out wide, and Nicholas went…”

(Images recreated that night at the dinner table for your enjoyment. ;) )

So I figure Nicholas is either a) a stand-up-comic in the making, or b) a saint in training.

Who wants to place bets? :)

Published in: on January 18, 2011 at 6:25 am  Comments (4)  
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It’s Santa’s Fault (a study in parentheticals)

Santa Claus
Image via Wikipedia

Last night, we left the house for choir practice at 6:35p.m., leaving the all-important Music List lying on the kitchen table, which led to me being roundly mocked by one of the basses, who thinks we play fast and loose with the lists anyway. (“They’re more like guidelines,” we like to joke.)

But I blame Santa Claus. You see, here’s how yesterday went:

Julianna was screaming with abdominal pain, the school district decided it was far too cold to have school, and for this and other reasons, I was late getting showered.

I snagged a look at the NFP chart while I was grabbing Julianna’s glasses from the night stand (where they’d been ever since naptime on Monday), looking to forecast the next few days. And then I got distracted by something, and—poof! The glasses vanished.

All day (between stolen writing moments, a library run and caring for Julianna) I sifted through the clutter on the counter and table, visiting and revisiting all the places I might have taken the glasses. But the usual foolproof method–retrace your steps–failed me, because I could not remember what those steps were. (Blame that on sixteen straight nights of caring for sick kids.) By dinnertime, I was feeling anxious. Christian came home and began looking in all sorts of odd places: on top of the refrigerator, in the utensil drawer… After dinner, we followed each other all over the house, Christian repeatedly asking, “What did you do this morning?” in the hopes that I’d magically remember. And then, standing in the closet at 6:27p.m., when it was time to load the kids into van, he discovered the glasses, perched atop a blue sweater that I did not remember putting in the back half of the closet where I spend virtually zero time.

And just like that, I recovered my lost memory engrams.

Santa, you see, brought a box of six Justice League action figures for Alex for Christmas, but Mommy and Daddy thought the pile of loot was getting out of hand. So Santa pulled out Hawk Girl and Superman for Christmas, then put Wonder Woman, Green Lantern & co. on the shelf in the closet to wait for Alex’s birthday. He hid it under the summer bedspread, up on the  wire shelf.

But yesterday morning when I went in to grab a sweatshirt, I saw that the bedspread, which had always perched rather precariously, had fallen to the floor, leaving the JL figures in plain sight. I dropped everything on the nearest flat surface and fixed the camouflage, an operation requiring an unreasonable amount of brain power considering its simplicity, and by the time I was done, I’d forgotten everything I had set down—and even the fact that I had set them down.

So you see, it’s all Santa’s fault. Because if Santa had done a better job hiding the toys, I wouldn’t have lost Julianna’s glasses. If I hadn’t lost Julianna’s glasses, we wouldn’t have been scrambling to find the glasses before, during and after dinner. And if we hadn’t been scrambling to find the glasses, we could have focused more on minor details like grabbing the music list on the way out the door.

Darn that Santa Claus. ;)

Published in: on January 13, 2011 at 7:55 am  Comments (5)  
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You Don’t Want My Love?

Things are just funnier when life has driven you to the edge.

Two hours of 20-month-old crying for no reason we can fathom… Screaming over every bite of dinner, exiled to his crib for ten minutes to  calm the tantrum. Bribed with a butterscotch chip for every piece of zucchini, chicken or pasta he eats (still screaming) (is he going to choke on it?). Kids at the other end of the dinner table with their hands over their ears.

To calm the mayhem, Christian puts on The Muppet Show, Season One. Nicholas continues to shriek, so I have to abandon the dishes to hold him. We settle in the glider rocker; he settles down and stares, transfixed, at the TV. (He doesn’t know how lucky he is to get videos; in our early parenting years, Alex wasn’t allowed to so much as glance at a TV screen until he was two years old.)

Over on the couch, Julianna snuggles down under Christian’s arm, the sweetest thing ever (where, oh where is the camera when I need it?) And then, this comes on the screen:

Christian and I are screaming with laughter, tears pouring down our faces; Nicholas is crying, and Julianna edges away from Daddy, retreating to the end of the couch, where she huddles against the poofy arm and stares back at her beloved Daddy with genuine alarm. Have all the adults lost their grip on reality?

And this, folks, is why we will never get rid of the TV altogether:

Published in: on November 21, 2010 at 8:20 pm  Comments (5)  
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Scared To Death

List of national animals

Image via Wikipedia

I really thought that November had at last settled in, and I was about to take off on novel writing. And then came this weekend. I will spare you the details. Suffice it to say, it involved a stomach virus and everyone in the family. And book signings. And NFP class. And let’s just say that not one word got written this weekend.

So today, I’m going to share a story I can’t believe I’ve never shared, because it’s canonical in my family’s household.

My mother was a city girl through & through, but she embraced her role as a farm wife.  When I was a kid, she raised chickens and sold the eggs. It was almost a daily occurrence that someone along the gravel road would come knocking on the door asking to buy a dozen or three. Feeding and watering chickens, chasing them inside at dusk, collecting eggs–we were never more clearly farm girls than when we were doing hen chores. (Except, perhaps, when we were playing on grain trucks and jumping off hay bales. But I digress.)

So, after a few years, Mom decided she’d get a rooster, and save the money she spent every spring on pullets for butchering. Well, it didn’t work. The rooster spent most of his time perched in the tree outside my parents’ window, crowing at progressively more annoying times. And by annoying, I don’t mean 5a.m. I mean 3 a.m., and 2a.m. Finally one night, my mom flipped out. She grabbed a broom, went outside and hurled it up into the tree. The rooster flew down squawking and took off running into the pitch blackness outside the security light. Mom chased him screaming until she couldn’t see where she was going.

We never saw the rooster again, but the next summer, Mom uncovered a pile of feathers down by a grain bin while she was mowing. And that’s when we started telling the story of how Mom scared the rooster to death. :)

Published in: on November 15, 2010 at 8:02 am  Comments (4)  
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Top Ten Things Heard Around the Basi House

You know that pig in the Geico commercial, that says “wee wee wee wee” all the way home? And the mom that looks like she’s about to start spewing ash and lava?

 

#10. “Alex, why are you standing naked in front of the window?”

#9. “Nicholas, stop putting your cereal (peas, chicken, bananas) in your milk!”

#8. “Ding-le-dells, ding-le-dells, ding-le dall da day! Doh dut dun dit dis do dide…” insert your favorite song) (usually followed by Christian yelling, “Alex, say it right!”)

#7. “Julianna, NOW where are your glasses?”

#6. “Oh, you are so stinking cute!” (This could be either me or Alex.)

#5. “Julianna, stop touching your brother!”

#4. <Frantic grunts with arms crossed across chest, and an expression indicating imminent death by spontaneous combustion if  adult does not put on a Signing Times video  RIGHT NOW. Usually followed by, “No, you already watched a video today!”>

#3. “Julianna, get back here right now!” (Followed, inevitably, by giggling and running. In the opposite direction.)

#2. “Alex, put the crayons away and turn off the light.”

“Hmph! Fine! Then I’m NEVER coloring again! EVER!!” (Um, I’m sorry to break it to you, honey, but you’re punishing yourself, not us.)

#1. “Nicholas, where’s the mouse pad?

One of these days, in all the chaos, I’m going to lose it altogether:

Flip top head: that’s me. (Don’t roll your eyes. You know you all feel the same way. :) )

Published in: on October 28, 2010 at 7:10 am  Comments (1)  
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Baby Drool or Bust

Christian likes to say that baby drool has explosive properties. After all, look what comes out the other end. ;)

Today I’m posting at Real Zest. Come on over!

Published in: on September 14, 2010 at 6:36 am  Leave a Comment  
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7 Quick Takes, vol. 93

The Mostly-Funny Moments Edition

1. Alex, at dinner, poking at his plate, sighs dramatically: “Mommy, I’m going to marry C___.”

Me: “Okay, but finish your corn first.” At the far end of the table, Christian explodes into laughter.

2. My pretty new clothes arrived in the mail yesterday! If you look at the referenced post, I bought #s 1 and 2. They are very high-maintenance to clean (i.e. hand wash), but boy are they pretty!

3. Countdown to Kindergarten (as of writing, not posting time): 5 days, 1 hour, 20 minutes. Not that I’m counting. Actually, we’re really enjoying the last few days of summer vacation. Nothing like a deadline to motivate the acquisition of structure. Yesterday we had a play date…this morning we’re going to the spray park…Monday is paddleboat day with Alex…Tuesday we have to get the oil changed, so we’re staying home, but having a sitter over so I can work.

4. I would just like to share this video. This is us every night. This is why I sleep on the couch a lot.

5. Video du jour #2: Click here and tell me…please…ARE THEY SERIOUS about this??????

6. On a related note, did you know that you can actually PLAY Oregon Trail online? Talk about a blast from the past!

7. Apparently I received a promotion this week. A big one. At least, according to Microsoft Word. :) Yesterday I received a FB email from a friend who is an editor at WLP. It was titled, “God is in the autocorrect,” and it read:

MS Word’s auto-fill just put the following into the Act of Contrition:
Our Savior Jesus Christian and Kate Basi suffered and died for us.
(I’m thinking this one might NOT be the Holy Spirit!)

Happy Weekend, all!

Published in: on August 13, 2010 at 5:09 am  Comments (4)  
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Poison Ivy

I begin with a story.

I am pregnant, and I have poison ivy. Not just any poison ivy, mind you. This is the poison ivy case that came from nowhere–I haven’t been out & about in nature for weeks–and exploded into the worst case of the red bumpy itches I have ever had, including my sophomore year in high school. It is everywhere, but concentrated in a long line around my right eye and cheekbone. I look like I have a shiner. I look something like this woman.

Every day some new spot pops up in an area somewhere else on my body. And it is miserable.

The doctors insist that oozing poison ivy pustules do not spread the infection further, that I have clearly missed washing some item of clothing–the couch, the bed, something. I know better. I am washing every item of clothing every day, and changing the bed every morning, the bathroom towels–everything. And yet they still keep coming.

I am home with an 18-month-old little boy named Alex one fine (miserable) afternoon, sitting on the couch in all my pregnant glory while Alex plays with the phone. After a while I decide that’s dangerous, and I take the phone and stick it behind me on the couch so he can’t get at it.

Not long after, the doorbell rings. I open the door to find a sheriff’s deputy on my porch. “Uh…hi,” I say, racking my brain to come up with some rational explanation for the presence of law enforcement on my doorstep.

“Miss, is everything okay?”

“Uh…yes…” (Sounding confused.)

“Are you sure?”

“Y…yes…” (REALLY confused.)

“Well, miss, we just got a 9-1-1 call from this address.”

My jaw drops, and then I realize….that little stinker–the phone! I run to grab the handset, and sure enough, the first three numbers in a long string of twenty are…9-1-1. I come running back. “My toddler was playing with the phone, I’m so sorry…look.” And I show it to him.

“Ma’am, are you SURE you’re all right?”

By now I’m beginning to feel a bit frantic. “I’m fine!”

“Then why is your face all beat up?” he asks.

poison ivy in summer

From the wisdom of this experience, I have a few poison ivy tips to offer:

1. Don’t let your kids play with the phone.

2. Poison ivy has the potential to “go systemic.” In other words, a really, really bad case can get into the bloodstream. If this happens, new spots of poisony ivy will continue to pop up in random places on your body for a couple of weeks. Fortunately, the longer it goes, the less severe the spots are.

3. Product Recommendation #1: Tecnu is an oily wash that you rub on exposed skin right after coming out of the woods. It adheres to the poison ivy oil and gets it off the skin. No use once the outbreak has begun.

4. Product Recommendation #2: Zanfel. I give you the brand name so you can find it, but most places also have a generic brand. Zanfel is very expensive; the generic is still steep, but absolutely worthwhile! Here’s why: it is made for use after the itchies begin. Zanfel is essentially a sand-filled scrub to lift the oils from your skin…and you get to RUB THE SAND ON YOUR RASH for thirty seconds! Anyone who has ever had poison ivy knows that the release you get by scratching is body-wide.

Go forth and scratch, poison ivy sufferers! :)

(Note: we eventually concluded that Christian brought the poison ivy home from the golf course, where he had chucked a ball into the very rough. My OB joked that I got poison ivy because my husband needed to learn to play golf better.)

Mama's Losin' It

Published in: on July 7, 2010 at 5:20 am  Comments (6)  

Our Family Motto

Motherhood Moments

Every family needs a motto.

I discovered ours one day last fall at dinnertime, when the nursing baby was yelling, Julianna was whining, and Alex was shouting about who knows what. Superman, his favorite shirt being dirty, a fly buzzing around—it could have been anything. Of course, none of them directed their angst toward Daddy, who was newly arrived home from work, sitting at the table waiting for me to put the food on the table so he could eat before his piano students arrived. Nope, they know which direction to aim their rancor.

Now, moms know that it’s impossible to pretend their kids are not in anguish, even if you know all they need is food, and you’re working on that—you can’t block it out. You can’t even compartmentalize it. It’s not in Mom’s psyche. We’re wired to freak out when they freak out. And so I rushed around, every moment more frantic, until finally I stopped and threw my hands out and shrieked desperately:

“Everybody just CALM DOWN!”

I pointed to them each in turn. “You calm down, you calm down, you calm down! I’m making your food! It will be there in a minute!”

Older, wiser mothers can guess how well that worked. Uh-huh. Not at all.

Bless Alex. If not for him, this might have been one more “Mom is losing it” moment, quickly buried among a million others. But not Alex. No, Alex leaped to his feet and echoed my stance, pointing at Julianna and Nicholas and me. “Everybody calm down! You calm down, and you calm down, and you calm down!”

And in a moment of uncontrollable giggles, our family motto was born.

A motto I still have to squeeze between my teeth almost daily…

Okay, folks, your turn–what is YOUR family motto? (Think hard. I know you have one, even if you haven’t realized it yet!)

Published in: on May 27, 2010 at 5:44 am  Comments (3)  
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Fashion Follies

Note to Target, Kohl’s, Penney’s, et al:

Seriously, people. Who are you making clothes for? Because—news flash—it’s NOT ME.

Today I am guest posting for Amy over at Never-True Tales. Go visit me there!

Published in: on April 16, 2010 at 5:25 am  Leave a Comment  
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