It's Good To Be The Queen

My boys are in the next room

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 03:00:00 +0000

writing their Christmas lists for Nana.

I just heard my son ask his brother how to spell, 'Nunchucks'

All They Want for Christmas is......

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 23:09:00 +0000

Fellow Queens!

Your boys crack me up.

Here is what some of them are asking for.

My 8 year old asked for a “ a vegetarian Tyranasaurous Rex- so he doesn’t eat me” - Queen Jennifer

After seeing the commercial my son Jason asked me if the Nuva Ring was a bracelet. He wanted to get it for me for Christmas! -Queen Erin

My Prince Joey, 18 years old, asked for a hair clipper last Christmas, which we gladly gave him after his years of long hair. He began cutting his own hair and experimenting on others. He has developed what I call the “He-Man Haircut.” His friends or brothers sit on a stacked pair of tires and choose their buzz number. After cutting their hair my son the barber gets out the lawn blower to blow the excess hair off of them. -Queen Jenny

My son asked the mall Santa for a rock wall for his playhouse (which he added "I hope he doesn't bring me a small one!!!" -Queen Jenny

This year my five year old son asked for a remote controlled flying saucer that will do whatever he tells it to do, including landing on people's heads.

Get shopping Queenies!

Queen Linda

Outing Santa

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Sat, 12 Dec 2009 18:38:00 +0000

Fellow Queens!

Depending on how old your boys are this may be the year that they ask you if Santa is real. I was able to make it to ten before I figured out that the simple logistics of getting toys to every good boy and girl in one night where not in Santa’s favor and that my parents must have been his accomplices all those years.

And what about the toys? Every time you see elves on TV or in the movies they are working on wooden choo choo trains and jack-in-the-boxes. How could they possibly have made my Easy Back Oven?

After a few years of sliding by with a rousing “If you believe, you receive!” the jig was up. When Prince Tim was ten he came to me with a very serious look on his face and said, “Mommy, you have never lied to me. Tell me the truth. Are you and Daddy Santa Claus.” Never lie to him? Boy is that kid snowed.

Actually I was pretty greatful that he made it to 10 before he asked me about it. I guess he wasn’t listening when that little brat announced to the preschool class that Santa was a sham. I immediately pegged that four year old as a future inmate.

Realizing that there was no way out, I spilled the beans. He had this half injured, half understanding look on his face. Then he turned to me and said, “Are you and daddy the Easter bunny too.” “Yes honey.” He gave it one last hopeful try. “Tooth Fairy?” Yes I said, completely ending a part of his childhood. He was pretty stoic about it and promised not to tell his brothers. My 8 year old Prince Christopher still believes and the older two have fun helping put together bikes and Transformers for him. Goodness knows, no eggnog slugging Queen should even attempt to put together a Schwinn on Christmas Eve.

if you want to extend the beauty of Santa just a little more I suggest this new book The Truth About Santa: Wormholes, Robots and What Really Happens on Christmas Eve by Gregory Mone. Using science and technology Santa’s seemingly impossible tasks are simply explained. Mone says, "Santa's suit is laden with what are called metamaterials, which have the effect of bending light around a person so that they turn invisible."

And speaking of books and the tooth fairy, our royal scribe Sheri Bell-Rehwoldt’s book So You Think It’s Easy Being the Tooth Fairy is up for grabs. Check it out.

And finally send me or post the crazy things your boys have asked for over the years and I will put them in next week’s address.

Reign On!

Queen Linda

The Tooth Fairy ROCKS!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Tue, 08 Dec 2009 03:11:00 +0000

Ever wonder about the origins of the tooth fairy legend?

I mean really, think about it for a moment. Our kids lose a tooth and we tell them that this mysterious pixie with a bicuspid fetish is going to trade them canines for cash. What up with that?

One theory is that the whole story started back in the 18th century with a French fairy tale called La Bonne Petite Souris by Madame D'Aulnoy. Unforturnately the tradition didn’t originally star our familiar sprite with a bite. Oh no. Instead of a fairy there was a MOUSE. That’s right -vermin. A mouse that turns into a fairy to help the good queen by hiding under the evil king’s pillow and then torturing him by knocking out all his teeth.

Yes people, this version of the tooth fairy fable has its roots in domestic violence.

There are different traditions in other parts of the world. In some Asian countries the kid is supposed to throw the tooth on the roof or shove it into a space under the floor. If that isn’t weird enough while they dispose of their teeth they have to wish that their tooth be replaced with a mouse’s tooth. Again with the rodents. Supposedly having your teeth grow your whole life like rat’s teeth do is a good thing. It doesn’t sound like something I would want for my guys. By the time they were in their teens they would look like sabre tooth tigers. But we really should have followed the tradition of throwing baby teeth straight up and down in the air. Theoretically the permanent teeth would then come in straight. Wish I had known that one earlier, it would have saved me thousands at the orthodontist.

An older version of the story that says that the reason you have to dispose of the tooth is because of witches. These hags would use pieces of your body -teeth, hair, fingernail clippings- to curse you. Can’t you imagine? “You better pry up some of the hardwood floor Johnny or a witch will cast a love spell on you. All the girls in your class will fall in love with you.” That would drive my 1st grader to grind his teeth into dust and scatter them in the ocean.

Most kids lose their first tooth when they are five or six. To mark this occasion and to pacify kids that were afraid of the act of losing teeth the tooth fairy started dealing in cash. The amount varies; my kids get eight shiny quarters, some kids get stock options and a golden parachute.

But whatever the origin of the story or how much cash is left under the pillow, the Tooth Fairy will always be a magical part of childhood.

Queen Linda’s Annual Holiday Gift Suggestions

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Sat, 05 Dec 2009 03:52:00 +0000

Here it is my Majesties! Queen Linda’s Annual Holiday Gift Suggestions!

These toys are 100% boy approved. And even if you don’t want these little playthings in your home, I know you have demon nieces and nephews to shop for. Pick which sibling you hate the most and order away!

#5 Snot Shot

I love the way the manufacturer advertises this little gem. “You no longer need to stick your finger up your nose to fire globs of gooey snot at your friends.” And don’t forget, it shoots up to 40 feet!

#4 Owl Puke

Shopping at this website, Gardening with Kids.org sounds like a lovely idea. You envision a gift that can teach the kids how to plant flowers, lower their carbon footprint, grow hemlock. Not so. The Owl Puke kit contains a owl pellet promised to “contain the skeleton of at least one owl meal, be it a mouse, vole, shrew, or small bird.” Bone-sorting tray included.

#3 Mr. Mouthy Mouth

I never knew they named a toy after my boys! This is a finger puppet that has

squishy rubber gums, teeth, tongue and bulging eyeballs. If they could get the eyes to roll it would really be my teenager.

#2 Squidgy Maggot Maggot Blood Ball

I’ve never seen real maggots. Hopefully this would be the closest I ever get. This little treasure ships from the UK. But worth it. Cheerio!

#1 Radio Controlled Nasty Hairy Rat

This lifesized faux rodent sports an evil looking face, snarling teeth and beady eyes that glow red when he moves. Want to clear those loitering relatives out? Here’s the ticket.

I’m off to get my credit card.

Reign On!

Queen Linda

OMG Edward! OMG Jacob!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Tue, 01 Dec 2009 02:22:00 +0000

Looking back, what was I thinking?

I took two 13 year olds, my niece and my son, to see the vampire movie Twilight Saga: New Moon. After school. On opening day. Again, what was I thinking?

In case you have been under a rock since 2005, let me bring you up to speed. Stephanie Meyer is the author of a series of four books called Twilight. The epic romance of the human Bella and her never ever, ever, ever, ever dying love for the bloodsucker Edward are wildly popular books. As in 85 million copies sold popular. Think Harry Potter for chicks, but Harry and Ron would be way hotter.

And no wonder, the book's prose is superlative. Bella says, "Though I respected the need for maintaining a safe distance between my skin and his razor-sharp, venom-coated teeth, I tended to forget about trivial things like that when he was kissing me." As cheesy as a Mexi-Melt at Taco Bell, yes?

When we arrived for the 4:45 showing the place was packed. Every showing that night was sold out. If you don’t get tickets online maybe you can see it after Christmas.

A sea of girls dressed either a tad goth or adorned in Twilight t-shirts swarmed the theater vying for the best seats. A hush fell over the crowd as the house lights began to dim. And then -applause. Really? Wow, these girls are hard core.

The first time Edward’s ebony frame filled the screen the shrieking started. Only a pig farmer hears that much squealing. Sara Grinbergs, 13, of Lakewood said that at her showing, “EVERY time Edward came out they screamed. I’m more of a Jacob fan.” I’m on Team Jacob too. That is until I found out that the actor was 17. I think that is a felony in most states. “Well, he’s young enough for me Mrs. Ford,” says Ms. Grinbergs. Little whippersnapper.

Elise Horsak, 13, saw the movie twice over the holiday break. “The first time there was a lot of screaming but not so much the second time.” I guess the hard core yelpers were there early.

The movie did mess with a few long standing myths. According to the movie when vampires get in the sun they sparkle. What up with that? I was waiting for the guy to sizzle like a chicken McNugget in the deep fryer at McDonald’s. They don’t turn into bats and fly either. Edward and company had a garage full of Volvo’s. Safety first.

My son Matthew’s take on the whole thing? “It wasn’t the worst movie I’ve ever seen. But I wouldn’t reccomend to guys.” I truly believe that he had a good time girl watching. When asked his opinion of the girl screeching he reports that it was, “Funny as hell.”

NOW Its Turkey Time!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 20 Nov 2009 16:40:00 +0000

November 12, 2009

Since next Thursday is turkey time it is time to start thinking about what we are thankful for.

Okay, I’ll start.

I’m thankful that I live in the neighborhood that I do. We have a huge 4th of July parade, complete with floats and bands. It always brings me great joy to watch my kids eat candy from the gutter. I really don’t think they party like we do in Dallas’ McMansion suburbs.

I’m thankful for the wonderful schools my kids go to. With the exception of the fact that I will be paying tuition for the next 14 years. As college approaches Prince Tim is learning the ways of the scholarship world. The other day he said, “Now I get why you have been leaning over my bed whispering ‘Free ride’ all these years.” Cross your fingers on that one.

I’m thankful for turkey. The amino acid in turkey, called tryptophan, is a natural seditive. Now I have an excuse to doze after dinner and push third and fourth servings of fowl for the boys.

I am so very thankful for all of you Queens. You have all brought me great joy over the years. Here’s to many more. Thank you to all who weighed in this week about what they are thankful for. Here are the best of the best.

I am indescribably grateful that Thing One and Thing Two refrain from inspecting dog dung under their magnifying glasses (tempting though that might be), they have yet to light anything of value on fire and they stopped bringing colonies of caterpillars into the house months ago. For these things, even a Pilgrim would rejoice. -Queen Melinda

I'm thankful for my Mom, Grandmother, and roommate. They are the village that helps me raise my son! Lord knows he needs a village! -Queen Sarah

I'm thankful for my three healthy, funny, crazy, loving boys and for babysitters! -Queen Sara

I am thankful for my family and for the soldiers who protect our country. -Queen Gina

Even though my husband has been unemployed since this past May, I am thankful for everyone's good health...money can not pay for that! -Queen Donna

Give thanks all!

Gobble, Gobble,

Queen Linda

Home Alone for the First Time

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 18:49:00 +0000

A few months ago we got rid of our telephone land line since we rarely used it.

Now that Prince Christopher is 8 he can stay by himself for a little while. But what if something happened while I dashed out to the grocery store for milk? What if he set the house on fire? What if the Jehovah Witnesses pounded on the door? He had no way to reach me. And I am not getting a 2nd grader a cell phone.

Back to the land line for us. It was an ordeal involving the phone company, the cell company, blah, blah, blah. Trust me, you don't want to go there. The best part of it was when, after I had been on hold for a million years, the ATT guy couldn't tell me the phone number to the ATT store. I said, "You realize that you are a communications company, a telephone company at that. Surely you can understand my amusement in the irony as I curse your employer." The sad part was that he didn't get it.

Anyway both my older boys were in school on Monday so Mr. 8 year old and I had a special day together. After a shopping trip, the dentist (Look Ma! No cavities!) and lunch we got back to the house. I didn't work out this morning, I truly need to. It keeps me sane.

We went over all the things he needs to know for my 45 minute escape. Don't answer the door, don't answer the phone, call me if you need me. Kiss, kiss, off I go.

At the Y I am on the treadmill going 9 mph when my phone rings. It's him. I was nearly propelled to the back wall of the gym as I frantically answered it. He hung up. I called him back in a panic. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Are the police on the front porch?"

He wanted to know if he left his Nerf football in the car.

I told him that I would be home in 10 minutes and he can look for himself. After I hung up I figured my heart had had enough of a workout for one day.

Anyone know a good cardiologist?

This Morning My 8 year old said...

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 19:13:00 +0000

"You and Daddy are the best parents I could ask for."

I told him, "Well we are the only parents you’re ever going to get so yay for you."

What? Its true!

Sick of Christmas Yet?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 22:43:00 +0000

Now that Halloween is over our thoughts turn to Christmas.

No, wait a minute, isn’t there something else going on before December 25?

Oh yes, I do seem to remember something about people with buckles on their shoes, Indians and green bean casserole.

Thanksgiving! That’s what it is! That uniquely American tradition where we pause for a moment to give a great big thanks for all we’ve got.

I must have forgotten it. And I’m not the only one.

Our country and our children especially get sucked into the tsunami of Christmas commercialism. And every year the hype to want more, more, more, gets earlier, earlier and earlier.

In late September I was super shopping at a super store with my boys. We saw flashes of green and red gift wrap, jolly plastic Santas and stacks of stockings lurking at the end of the aisles. In the weeks that followed the brigade of holiday items marched forward ending up front and center by the first week of November. I actually heard a Christmas carol blaring over the loudspeaker at Target yesterday. My oldest boy, who has been indoctrinated in the importance of Thanksgiving before Christmas, talked me down so I didn’t leave the cart and bolt for the car. Maybe he just wanted to insure the purchase of his beloved Axe shampoo, deodorant and shower gel. I have forbidden the possession of the aerosol body spray for the sake of the ozone layer over our house.

This treason of the season isn’t limited to the stores. You can’t turn on the television without getting bombarded by commercials for special gifts that are sure to please everyone under the age of 18 on your gift list. Most ads feature rosy-cheeked cherubs dressed in designer duds living in a splendor of domestic perfection that would make Martha Stewart seem like a slacker.

The worst commercials are the ones aimed at our kids. They are enough to turn any child who would have wished for a few special gifts into a frenzied brat wanting every toy that the advertisers on Nickelodeon hawk.

I dutifully inform my sons that whatever company puts out the first Christmas commercial I see is automatically boycotted. I have stayed true to this credo for years but I admit it is not that hard since some recent offenders have been De Beers, Carnival Cruise Lines and Lexus.

What is the collateral damage in all this pre-Christmas hype? Thanksgiving.

So, what to do? Here are a few suggestions.

To combat the holiday materialism in our house we have The Turkey. He's a no feathered, bowling ball shaped, construction paper fowl, taped to the door to the pantry. Every night we go around the dinner table and share what we are thankful for. Everything gets written down on a paper feather and added to The Turkey so that by Thanksgiving day he is looking pretty good. One night last year my six year old son wrote that he was thankful for penguins. Another night I was relieved to find out that when my 13 year old wrote "speed" he meant how fast he can run and not amphetamines. My oldest son was grateful for finally being 16 so he could get his drivers license. I was grateful that I don’t have too many gray hairs due to having a car-operating teen. The boys write that they are thankful for each other, with the occasional exception of one son purposely leaving out one of the other two just to bug him.

Secondly, let’s all simply slow down. Shut off the television, skip that trip to the big box store and just enjoy the gifts around you with your children. A trip to the playground, an adventure to a museum, even a walk around the block are sure to lessen the constant barrage of buying.

And finally, let’s try to get back to the real reason for this holiday and count those blessings. It may be a hassle traveling with the kids to see relatives, but be thankful you have people want to be with you. It really stinks when the kids get the flu but be thankful if you have health insurance. It may be hard to parent at times but thank God we have our children.

When you put your mind to it there are lots of things to be grateful for. At the very least you can be thankful that there will be pecan pie for dessert.

Gobble, gobble.

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 20:00:00 +0000

The first baby sitter I ever hired I snagged while she was trick or treating. On Halloween night I opened the door and a gaggle of lamely costumed teens mumbled, “Trick or treat”

“Wait a minute,” I said. “You are waaaay to old for this. Who babysits?”

One girl who looked like she had a brain in her head raised her hand. I chucked a candy bar at her and asked her to return the next day for an ‘interview’.

When she showed up she played with two year old Prince Tim (Yes, I waited until my first Prince was two before finding a sitter and I’ll tell ya, my mind was about to snap. With my last Prince I wasn’t as uptight. I left him with a sitter before his umbilical cord dropped off.) Anyway, she plays with the kiddo, he shows her his play room and toys. Then she and I adjourn to the kitchen so I can grill her on her babysitting experience.

After a bit the only sound I hear from the playroom is silence. “Excuse me a moment,” I say during my last calm minute of the morning.

I peeked down the hall and see the front door wide open. I bolt outside and see Prince Tim sprinting down the block, intent on getting as far away as possible. Two years of hanging around with me 24/7, remember? Who could blame him?

Now I don’t need to look for a potential babysitter on Halloween night. But for some reason every year all the Reese’s peanut butter cups have been tampered with and are therefore unsafe for my children to consume.

Munch, munch, delicious.

Here are some Halloween boy stories for you.

From Queen Theresa of Lincoln, Nebraska-

I was at Target with my 3 princes and my husband. When we walked by a display of Halloween thongs Chris, age 8, blurted out, “Wow Dad, Mom would look really hot in those!” Several customers were quite amused by his outburst but also by my husband’s face turning 10 shades of red!!!

And from Queen Paige of Singapore-

While trick or treating I was dawdling along with my two year old Prince Mason while his 4 year old brother moved at a faster pace across the street with my husband. I stopped to chat with some friends. Caught up in the Mommy gossip, I wasn't completely watching my littlest one and didn't notice he was eating all the candy out of his plastic pumpkin. He then starts choking. My husband runs across the street, scoops up Prince Mason and puts the little guy face to face with him. The choking child promptly vomited all consumed candy -foil, wrappers and all- onto my husband. The moral of the story: Always aim a choking child AWAY from your face. This year my husband says he's staying home to hand out candy."

Have a great Halloween!

Reign On!

Queen Linda

I admit it...

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 14:51:00 +0000

... I used Goof Off to get the days old band aid residue off my son's elbow

Wanna Volunteer?

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 22:23:00 +0000

Fellow Queens!

Let’s talk about volunteering for your kid’s school.

I remember when my oldest was little that there were three women who ran the school. Really, they ruled over all things volunteer. They were amazing, a force to be reckoned with as they offered up their services for everything from coordinating the carnival to convincing parents to prepare dishes for the teacher appreciation breakfast. One year I signed up for that one and proudly presented my cheesy, sausage casserole creation only to be met by blank stares. Yep, I had brought a meat dish on a Friday during Lent. Catholic, remember? Where’s a hungry Baptist when you need one?

After a few years I said to one dynamo, “You know, if you keep up this pace you are going to be in a padded cell, sucking your thumb, screaming, “Don’t forget to sign up for a slot at the sports concession stand.” She laughed and said that she would be volunteering until her kids graduate. I hope she meant from high school.

I think that anyone who chairs the carnival or auction does it as part of a plea bargain. They should be excused from any other volunteering that may be needed. Maybe they need a 12 step program to just say no next time.

After forgetting, I mean unavoidably missing due to severe vomiting, work conflicts, the water heater exploding,the sun getting in my eyes, (yeah, that’s it!) I have decided to be a stealth volunteer due to my overwhelming guilt. Again, Catholic.

I keep an eye on when envelope stuffing, alphabetizing library books and T shirt sorting will happen and then I just show up. Linda to the rescue. I feel like Wonder Woman. “Thank God you’re here! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Cutting laminate is my favorite, it reminds me of therapy in the day room.

I never do cafeteria, If a snotty nosed kid asked me to heat up his Hot Pocket I would truly go over the edge.

However they don’t let me let me bring my own book for special guest reading time. I evidently push my feminist/pacifist agenda of onto the children. I did however sneak in The Paper Bag Princess

where the princess decides that the prince is a ‘bum’ and doesn’t have to marry him after he spews some patriarchal drivel to her. This is after she saves him from a dragon. What a moron.

I also read Rolan Dahl’s The Magic Finger

to impress upon their malleable minds that if hunters are going to shoot ducks then the ducks should have AKA assault rifles to even the playing field.

And just think, my kids will be done with high school in 2019.

Reign On!

Queen Linda

Our Wild Things

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:18:00 +0000

I love Lisa Belkin's Motherlode blog.

Here is a discussion on letting our boys be boys!

I’m Going On Strike

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:08:00 +0000

Really.

I have decided that the Queen is tending to too many things in the castle and I am overwhelmed. When that happens I just spin and try to prioritize but I usually end up in the fetal position sucking my thumb. The Princes are old enough and are not pulling their weight for Team Ford. So I had a serious meeting with them at the dinner table last night.

“Guys, I need a little help here. Prince Christopher -If you leave a room, bring your empty juice boxes and bowls of chips to the kitchen. Prince Tim -If you wash your football pants every night then I know you know how to use washing machine. Busted. Gather up the laundry baskets, sort and wash a load. When you take things out of the dryer, put what is in the washer in the dryer. If you can’t be responsible enough to help with the laundry then you aren’t responsible for something as big as driving a big metal box around town. Prince Matthew -If you see tracks of dirt, waffle crusts and a dead cockroach on the kitchen floor, sweep it up. And while we are at it ask Prince Tim how the whole laundry thing works.

If you do not improve I will go on strike. I will sleep in every morning and you can get yourselves to school. I will not do laundry, I will not cook meals and I will not drive you anywhere. And you will not like it. The Queen has spoken!”

Prince Matthew took my tirade to heart. This morning, on his own, he put a load of their towels that had started to mold in the washer. Amazed, I ventured over to watch this monumental event. Unbelievably he then pivited to get the clothes out of the dryer. I figured I would be pushing my luck if he actually folded them but hey, I’ll take what I can get. As he opened the dryer door an empty blue ink pen clattered to the floor.

He looked at me with hugh eyes and prepared for me to go ballistic. What are you going to do? I just cracked up and we laughed until tears were rolling down our faces.

I won’t go into the state of the ill fated clothing. You have all starred in that movie.

At least I know they had listened the night before and had taken my rant to heart. It is worth a pair of jeans (or two, or three) to have them pitch in for Team Ford.

Reign On!
Queen Linda

Zombies have invaded the castle.

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 14:46:00 +0000

Maybe its the commercials for the Zombieland movie (which I saw by the way, two thumbs up!), the recent zombie vs. vampire article in the Dallas Morning News

or simply the fact that Halloween is coming up. But around here every day is ruled by the undead.

Yesterday I was showing Prince Christopher a Bugs Bunny cartoon on my computer.

After all it is my responsibility as a parent to educate my sons in the way of all things Bugs. They learn about about opera, cross dressing and are amazed that I know all of the lines.

After the cartoon, the website led us back to the home page where a new game awaited. Attack of the Tweety Zombies!

How could I resist. We clicked in.

It is the best game ever. Sylvester is in a graveyard and a zombie Tweey bird arises from the grave saying, “Sylvester!’ and “Brains!” Not in that high pitched speech impaired voice, but a creepy zombie growl. You are Sylvester and you have to jump on Tweety’s head to get rid of him. If Tweety gets you, no worries, you have nine lives.

I am playing it more then they are. Which actually isn’t hard since they can’t turn on the computer or TV until the weekends.

At dinner last night, all three boys, had a serious discussion on where we would go and hide if the zombies showed up. The attic was their best guess since supposedly zombies can’t climb. But after perusing Max Brooks’ book The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead

I learned that “No place is safe, only safer.”

I think I’ll tell the boys. Oh, wait, that may move up their need for therapy a few years.

Reign On!

Queen Linda

I just went through the house...

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 14:43:00 +0000

... actually saying, "Where is the scotch tape. I saw it yesterday. I know it isn't where it is supposed to be."

and just in case you missed this party idea...

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:06:00 +0000

From Queen Lisa of PA

Our favorite party (for my twin boys) was a trip to hike at a local nature preserve (pack snacks and a first aid kit) followed by burgers and dogs on the grill, then camping in tents in the backyard overnight. It had all the fun of camping, but with the benefit of indoor plumbing. Breakfast was easy---very large platters of pancakes and gallons of milk.
Party favors? Flashlights, of course!

Birthday Party Rec from Queen Laurie

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 14:01:00 +0000

"My youngest Prince was hooked on ChuckECheese for years ... until he discovered Dave & Busters.

Much nicer for the adults - full bar!"

Oh yea! I'm checking that out today!

Speaking of Bad Breath

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 13:09:00 +0000

On the fridge there is this list of things the boys have to every morning. Like brush their teeth, oh the horror.

Why can't they pull their heads out and do it? Not like the list hasn't been there for 10 YEARS!

I am wondering...

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Thu, 08 Oct 2009 00:29:00 +0000

how a boy's breath can smell so bad in the morning! Ackk, ackk, cough, cough!

"With Our Busy Schedules, What Are Your 3 Valid Tips for Getting Dinner Ready in a Flash?”

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 20:47:00 +0000

Samsung contest o' the week. And who doesn't want a free refrigerator? ok, I would rather have a trip to Aruba but....

So, 3 tips for getting dinner ready speedy quick.

#1 Crockpot + meat + envelope of onion soup mix + can of cream of mushroom soup = dinner

#2 When you do have to break down and cook, make a double batch and freeze the rest.

#3 Keep plenty of lunch meat in the fridge for sandwiches, whip up some mac and cheese -Viola! dinner in 10 minutes

I think 'any drive-thru' would be #4 but I won't go there

Queen Misty and Queen Kathryn Report in on Birthday Parties!

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 14:56:00 +0000

My 7-year-old is so obsessed with G.I. Joe (the classic, not the new movie) that we had a "boot camp" birthday party. My husband made an obstacle course, complete with climbing wall, balance beam, tire run, rope swing and crawl-under. I made the birthday cake, a tank complete with sparkler coming out of the gun (a cereal straw). I'm pretty sure Prince Daniel will never forget that birthday!

Queen Misty

While I don't have a favorite party, I do have a favorite gift. I am the reigning queen of five princes and we have all the associated pets to go along. Connor, my now 14 year old prince, threatened to move out if we got any more animals. So guess when queen cat had her kittens - on Prince Connor's 14th birthday. I couldn't wait to wake him up and tell him I got him kittens for his birthday! Oh the joy. He didn't see the humor in it - imagine that.

Reign on!

Queen Kathryn

I Just Had To Tell The 7 year old

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 12:42:00 +0000

You can not bring your army gun to school.

I mean, really?

Jeez

noreply@blogger.com (Linda Marie Ford) — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 14:43:00 +0000

I am the most incredibly remedial Queen. I've been trying to connect to Twitter and figure out that thing. Could you possibly try to connect with me so I know I've done it right? I would appreciate it ever so. Thanks

"Chuck E. Cheese isn't evil, Mommy."

This was a comment I must have made before. As we passed the pizza joint my then-5-year-old Prince Christopher parroted it back to me. I would rather poke my eyes out than go there. I think I would rather slice a jalapeno pepper and put that in my eyes before I poke my eyes out.

Oh wait, did I say that out loud?

For one thing I never have understood the appeal of Chuck E. Cheese. It is beyond me how some parents think that a six foot tall rat charging toward their freaked out toddler to give them a hug is a good thing. I have seen many a child scarred for life after that encounter. A birthday to remember for sure.

If that experience doesn’t stay with the kiddos, the smell of the ball pit will.

Back then Mr. Man was workin' it. He starting to wield the greatest power a kindergartener can - the dreaded "Oh yeah, then I'm not going to invite you to my birthday party!" I'm sure you all have been there. He can pull that on his brothers but not the Queen. All it takes is a "Oh yeah, well I'm not going to invite you to go Trick-or-Treating with me. So there!" from me and he dissolves into the sweetie boy I'm more familiar with. He comes over, pats my hand and says, "Okay Mommy. You can come to my birthday party." I'll save the date.

Now he is older and wiser. The hype for the anniversary of his birth starts around mid-June. Did I mention his birthday is October 18? He lobbies for party themes (which change rapidly), what the contents of the goody bags will be and who he wants to invite. Finally I had to lay down the law. “My birthday (Aug 25) comes before yours (not Aug 25). May I (born on Aug 25) make the suggestion that you (again, not born on Aug 25) plan for that day (Aug 25) instead?” What can I say? They are boys, I have to get important things across literally and subliminally.

We come to an agreement. No party talk until October 1. Well guess what month it is now. He actually was having a countdown to the first and now negotiations are in full swing.

The plans have not been finalized but the opening round went something like this-

“How about a bounce house with the basketball hoop inside?” he suggests.

“No, you will all collide and break your heads.”

“Miniature golf?” he ventured.

“No, I’m not giving you pseudo-clubs.”

“Batting cages?”

“Again, the club thing. Think on it some more.”

I’m going to back down until we agree to partying in the backyard with family and friends playing pin the tail on the donkey after eating home made cake.

Remember those parties? Let me know about your favorite one, yours or your kid's.