I like gummy bear | i love gummy bear | gummy bear song english

Hi! I revamped the site a bit. Hope you like it. Don't tell me if you don't. Thanks. I should have some new posts up soon. Promise!

My husband is at the lake with a friend on a fishing trip this weekend. He called earlier and said that it was raining, so they would be staying in tonight instead of night-fishing for catfish. (Yeah. I don't know either. Weird.) So, I got the kids to bed. I cleaned the kitchen. I sat down to watch Iron Chef America (which was super-lame, by the way. Does it always suck?) and the phone rang. It was 10:20pm. "Hey. Quick question. Is Jose Feliciano blind?" "Yes." "I knew it! Thanks." Wow. Big night at the lake. A bit later, I got a text. "When did Gitmo open?" Two 39 year old drunk guys. Smelling like fish. Eating chicken. Drinking beer. Talking about visually-impaired guitarist-singers and enemy combatants.

I had the pleasure of having two six-year-old girls in my car for a little while this afternoon. I dropped G at his soccer practice and was on my way to take M and her friend Leah to their soccer practice. But they forgot their water bottles. So, I drove through McDonald's and bought them each a bottle of Dasani water. While in the line, they tried to get me to order them sodas. No such luck, ladies. Their failure launched the following discussion: M: I really like Dr. Pepper. L: I usually get Sprite. Well, sometimes chocolate milk. But usually Sprite. M: Oooh, I like Sprite too. And root beard. L: I like beard. M: YOU drink BEARD?!?! L: Yes. M: REALLY? L: Yes. Well, kid beard. M: Which is Dr. Pepper.

G, before bed tonight: Do you think donkeys ever throw up?

Bill Murray as Carl Spackler in Caddyshack . My youngest son as ... Carl Spackler in Caddyshack .

The Peeps and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies have all been consumed. I'll be picking Easter grass off the floor for months. Plastic eggs back to the basement. Easter is over. At least it is in Kansas City. When I was in college in South Bend, I was exposed to a cultural tradition I had never heard of before (and have never heard of since). Dyngus Day. What is Dyngus Day , you ask? First, it's Easter Monday. Second, it's a Polish thing. Apparently, cities with large Polish populations celebrate it. Which 'splains South Bend's fixation on Dyngus Day. Alongside Buffalo and Chicago, South Bend has the most notable Dyngus Day tradition in the U.S. Sure, there are religious and historical foundations for Dyngus Day - much like there are for St. Patrick's Day. And, like their Irish cohorts, the Poles have turned Dyngus Day into a party. Google tells me that Dyngus Day in South Bend is the traditional kick-off to political campaigns, local, state and national. Politi

Those who know me know that I'm not an artsy-craftsy mom. Sometimes I wish I was. But most of the time, I like being able to get the kids started on a project and let them complete it on their own. More quiet for me! But I do like building things with them. Lego Harry Potter Hogwarts Castle? Yep. Three hours later, it was built. 500 piece jigsaw puzzles? Yep. Usually finish them on my own after the kids have given up, gotten bored and wandered away. (Come to think of it, that's what happens with Legos too.) And this. Not a gingerbread house for Christmas - a sugar cookie house for Easter. Weird. But $7 at Target. They loved it. And it required no baking.

Thank God for my mom. If I didn't have her, my kids would never dye Easter eggs. Ever. Also? What the hell am I going to do with all of these freaking hard-boiled eggs now?

The big kids have had a fierce running battle over "slug bugs" for many years. They started as preschoolers, spotting VW Beetles and yelling, "[insert color here] SLUG BUG! NO TAG-BACKS!" They did not, and still do not, know that the game really requires that you "slug" someone when you spot the Bug. Thus, "no tagbacks." M claims that she has thousands and millions of slug bugs and is, therefore, the perennial front-runner in the competition. So, good mother that I am, I help G beat her whenever possible. The other day, I was driving G home from piano (Okay, fine. We were on our way to McDonald's after piano. Sue me.) And I saw a vintage Beetle, based on the vintage car plates it had, I'd venture to guess that it was a '72. That Beetle and me? Guess we're both "vintage." Anyway. I pointed it out to G and said, "Hey! Check out that old slug bug!" "Oh. My. Gosh. Mom! That is so old! It must be from like. Lik

Last week, after soccer practice while walking to the car, G saw a pregnant woman. He remarked that she was having a baby. And then, as we walked, he asked me how babies get out of their mothers' tummies to be born. Hmmm. I took the easy way out and said, "Well, there's a few different ways. But one way is the way that our babies, C & H, were born. The doctor actually cuts a little slit in the mom's belly and gets the babies out and then uses stitches to close up the cut." I knew that G would be distracted by the mention of stitches. And I was right. The original subject was dropped. Until this week. Again, as we walked to the car after soccer practice, at the exact same spot that he asked last week (and apropos of nothing this week), G said, "So, what's the other way a baby gets out to be born?" Crap. I fumbled with words and thoughts and then said, "Well, that's a little hard to explain." And then I paused to think about how to an

G: Mom, it makes me really, really ANGRY when you send me to my room. Me: I know, buddy. No one likes being punished. Go. G: You mean, no one? Like, even people in China? As I didn't think that the seven-year-old needed a primer on masochism, I replied... Me: Nope. Now, go to your room.

I took G and M to see Disney on Ice last night. They were thrilled to say the least. During the Lion King portion of the performance, the grown Simba and Nala skated to " Can You Feel the Love Tonight " in a romantic duet. M was apparently disturbed. M: "Oh! That is so gross. When people fall in love and have kids, that is so DISGUSTING!"

My six-year old came home from dance class this evening, dropped off by her BFF's mom. (Yes, she actually uses the term "BFF".) The mom called me out to the car and asked me if there was anything I needed to tell her. Any news? "No," I answered quizzically. She then relayed the following story - originally told to her by my darling daughter: My mom is going to have another baby. At Easter. My mom has a baby every Easter. This one is going to be a girl though. I know because the nurse told me. The same nurse that told me all about my little brothers before they were born. I'm so excited for Easter to come so I can have a sister. That would indeed be big news. As my husband has been fixed. I'd have a lot of 'splainin' to do...

My 7 year old, this afternoon: "Mom, my life is just a little....umm...geek-ish." Me: "Geek-ish? What does that mean?" G: "You know, like I'm a geek." Me: "What is a geek?" G: [pause] "I have no idea."

Gimme a head with hair Long beautiful hair Shining, gleaming, Streaming, flaxen, waxen Give me down to there hair Shoulder length or longer Here baby, there mama Everywhere daddy daddy Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair Flow it, show it Long as God can grow it My hair Did you know that my older two used to be able to sing the song "Hair" from the Broadway musical of the same name? Way funny. Courtesy of the Broadway Kids CDs. One of my two-year-olds has been perfecting a David Cassidy as Keith Partridge coif lately. I loved it. It was awesome. You can't see the flowy-ness of the back in this picture. Be assured that it was flowy. Today? Not so flowy. The littlest one got his hairs did too. And so did the girl. She's just so stinkin' pretty it makes my heart ache sometimes.

My boy has a hard time with attention and anxiety. He got upset about something at school yesterday and he told me, "Mom, UUUGGGGGHHH, my life is sometimes not so simple." And the only thing I could say was, "I know, buddy." He's seven. And I just think that's way too young to realize that life is sometimes not so simple. Sad.