Torturing her brothers, one ABBA song at a time

What happens when your obsessive tendency towards all things musical combines with your daughter's obsessive tendency towards all things musical?

I'll tell you what happens.

It began last weekend when a perfect storm presented itself in the form of, "The boys are going to Batman, what should we do tonight?"

In a moment of weakness, I took her to see my new obsession.

And now it has become her new obsession. She spends hours and hours every day, rocking out to the soundtrack from Mamma Mia. The boys come begging and pleading, fingers in their ears, offering to sell their souls if I can only MAKE IT STOP, ALREADY.

But I can't make it stop. (And secretly, I don't want to.)

For she IS the dancing queen.

Young and sweet, [thinks she's] only seventeen...

She can dance, she can jive...

Having the time of her life...

See that girl, watch that scene, digging the dancing queen...

I think it's the perfect payback for their little soldier firing squad. Don't you?

She's one of a kind

If everyone had an Annie, the world would be a much better place.

When you went to the local pool, instead of finding it packed as usual, you would have the place all to yourself. You would sit in amazement, scratching your head, wondering where all the people are.

But only for a moment, because you'd soon be too busy to worry about that anymore. Instead, you would share in the joy of your kids as they dive repeatedly without having to wait in line once.

Poolside chairs in the shade would be empty, and fun would had by all. People and OK Magazine would be on hand to provide Hollywood relationship speculation, fashion critiquing, and comparisons between yourself and the Jolies, Witherspoons, and Albas of the world.

But with Annie by your side, she would be quick to remind you of all the qualities that none of those girls have, that only you possess.

You would instantly feel much better about being you.

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If everyone had an Annie, sightseeing trips to the Arch would result in children that magically pose for the camera, with smiles on their faces:

And you would only have a few shots that looked like this (but it would be because you laughed and let them do it, not because it was the best they could give):

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If everyone had an Annie, movies like this would be on the big screen, just waiting with all their magical campiness for you to arrive with your popcorn and diet coke in hand.

With Annie by your side, you would squirm just a little when Bond, James Bond, takes his turn to sing. But you would also be rewarded with the surprising sweetness of Mr. Darcy's voice and the awesome girl power that is the Dancing Queen.

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If everyone had an Annie, even when rain blows in and stays for three days, fun would still be found indoors. A new sport would be invented called Boxing Glove Baseball. It would revolutionize life as you know it for 10-year-old boys, 8-year-old boys, and 6-year-old little sisters:

_________________

And if everyone had an Annie, chick flicks would smoothly transition into late-night discussions which would solve the world's troubles, all while you are doubled over with laughter.

Ordinary Moms would become philosophers, and clarity would be found on critical issues such as child raising and husband management. Kettle corn and diet coke would be the food of choice for such occasions, and would never show up on thighs the next morning.

And that bittersweet moment when you have to drop off your perfect guests at the airport? It will turn into shock and surprise when you come home to receive the flowers she has ordered. For you. To thank YOU, of all things.

What's that, you say? You don't have an Annie?

Oh, I'm so sorry. But I really just don't want to share her. She's all mine.

And she's absolutely the best.

Thanks for a great week, friend!

Must. Stop. Cleaning

About 12 hours from right now, I will be picking her up from the airport.

I really cannot wait.

I have been in pre-visitor house cleaning mode all day, and I think it is time I staged my own intervention. I need to step away from the mop, duster, vacuum, and Febreeze. Annie knows me, Annie loves me, Annie has seen my real life.

And, truth be told, I think she might like me a little more if she were to walk in and actually find my house a mess.

I wish I could do it, but I just can't.

With her on this visit comes Sam, the long-missing third musketeer to my two boys.

They are beyond excited.

The only one unhappy about this current situation is Hannah, who is pouting because Annie's two girls are not coming along, as they stayed behind for girl's camp. The concept that Annie's daughter's have lives of their own is totally lost on Hannah. I mean, Hannah, who spends a good deal of every day acting as though she were 15, cannot comprehend why real 15-year-old girls have better things to do than play dress up and listen to High School Musical.

I know, right?

Anyway, we are so excited for these friends to visit. And there is nothing like having a few house guests to force your husband to finally do what you've been nagging him to do for months motivate you to finish all those house projects.

Top of that completed list? The Husband finally replaced the baseboards that were missing after we removed some hideous built-ins. You know, when we moved in OVER A YEAR AGO (not that I've nagged him about it or anything).

And after about 186 trips to Home Depot, we also finished our basement wainscoting project (which I'll post photos of soon).

What I will spare you from, however, are the photos of my boys walking around Home Depot with toilet seats on their heads while laughing maniacally.

Because some things are just too disturbing.

See you soon, Annie and Sam!

Taking his turn as a poet

During the school year, McKay's teacher had the class do their own version of Judith Viorst's poem, "If I were in charge of the world." Her poem has always been a favorite of mine, and I like his version even better. It gives you insight into his personality, which is oftentimes so agreeable that his dislikes tend to be kept to himself (I know, great kid, huh?)

But it's interesting to me the things he would eliminate and the things he would keep, if he were in charge of the world. I think it would be an excellent psychological assessment tool to see what we'd all write. Maybe I'll do one of my own soon.

If I were in charge of the world
By McKay

If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel wars,
Broccoli
Mean people, and also
slow computers

If I were in charge of the world
there'd be mansions everywhere,
servants, and
no homework.

If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn't have germs.
You wouldn't have laundry
You wouldn't have disgusting foods
Or "clean the yard"
You wouldn't even have to clean.

If I were in charge of the world
Foods with sugar would be healthy.
Everything would cost 1 penny.
There would be no work
And a person who sometimes has bad grades
And sometimes has bad days
Would still be able to be
in charge of the world

Uh-oh, Spaghettios

Here's an interesting tidbit I bet you didn't know: Some of the greatest contributions to mankind have been accidents of science.

Yes, that's right.

Important accidents, like Penicillin and x-rays, that changed life as we knew it forever.

And there were also some less-important things like Silly Putty, potato chips, and Viagra - all brought to us by accident.

Today, another accidental discovery was made, right here in my house.

It will never cure cancer. It will never redefine medical science. It will definitely never bring life back to any men suffering from E.D.

It will, however, cause me to develop a brain aneurysm.

Our scientist? She, the one I so glowingly sang the praises of a few days ago.

Her experiment?

How far spaghettios will travel when accidentally dropped from the kitchen table:

The answer, in case you were wondering?

About 12 feet in all directions.

And if that weren't enough, the spaghettios somehow defied gravity, and climbed UP THE BACK OF THE CHAIR, as though trying to return to the table from whence they came.

How many seconds before my head exploded, you ask?

About eight seconds. (I was a little shell shocked and had a delayed reaction.)

As a result of our accidental discovery, we now know that all it takes to turn me into a manic, mumbling fool is to cover half of my kitchen with tiny, little O's and sticky tomato sauce.

Please, internets, we're professionals here.

Do not try this at home.

She

Holding her tiny hand, I look down to see her clutching the doll tightly to her chest. Her skin is soft, and her fingers, entwined in mine, give a slight squeeze. I smile inside when the tiny bunnies painted on her nails catch my eye.

I say a silent prayer of thanks for someone up above who knew that I needed to girl up my life by having her in it.

Before she came, nobody wore pink. I was the only one who ever listened to Broadway show tunes. And the tears that fall inevitably during movies like Charlotte's Web? Until she came, they were mine alone.

Now, it is her cheeks that I wipe tenderly at the movie theater. It is our shared conspiracy when we pick musicals for family movie nights, knowing those boys of ours won't like it one bit. It is her eye that catches mine and smiles when we see them squirm. We're a team now, she and I.

It is she, this tough little chica, who still likes to climb in for a snuggle with her mama at three in the morning. She, who mocks me for eating the same thing every day for lunch, but yet turns and does it herself.

And sometimes, when looking at her, I feel as though I am looking into a mirror. But then at in a flash, she is off, and it makes me sigh in wonder at this unique person that is all her own.

She is baby and princess, teenage-wannabe and wise sage, all rolled into one. She is delicate and tender, but still not afraid to climb trees with the boys. She knows what she wants, and is impatiently waiting for life to deliver it. She's my very own spice girl.

And I wouldn't trade her for the world.