The Big Game is Around the Corner

02.4.12

Mr G and the kids are through the roof excited about the Super Bowl. We are certainly hoping for a big Giants Win.

This cold and flu infographic caught my eye and made me giggle. It’s just about the only part of the SuperBowl madness that I can relate to.

superbowl infographic nfl sick days

Yes My Family is Weirder Than Yours: I Win, Slam Dunk

03.5.09

My mother (who you can now follow/harass/talk to on twitter) always provides wonderful gifts for me the kids. Since the kids started school we’ve had a dinner table tradition of asking the same question every night at dinner.

What was the best part of your day?

The rules are simple, you have to answer with something that happened before dinner time, something from school, work or the community. We did this for years, and it’s a great way to get the kids to talk about their days.

Until it wasn’t. They started getting snippy and sassy, and we realized they were bored by the same question every night, even though my husband and I were comforted by the routine.

My Mom showed up with a great gift a few weeks ago. Table topics.

Table topics is a clear box with cards inside it. You grab one at random, and have everyone at the table answer the question. Tonight it was this.Table Topics

I went first, Jane asked me what I’d most like to ask god and I said, “I’d like to know what happens when you die.”

“Oh,” she whispered, “I’d ask him if heaven was real.”

“I know the answer to that.” Says my irreverent husband, “When you die, that’s it, you’re dead. Game over.”

Alexander, not to be outdone says, “I’d ask him if the Giants are going to win the Superbowl again.”

“I don’t think god cares about the Giants and the Superbowl.” I said.

“Of course god cares about the Giants and the Superbowl. Obviously we’re being punished for our sins. Who else but god could make Plaxico shoot himself in the leg and take the entire defense with him? Who else but god could do that?” My husband is all but hopping out of his chair.

As Alexander watches my shoulders creep toward my ears and my anxiety level raise, he delivers the coup de gras, “Mom, why did you name me after a hockey player?”

“I don’t know son, please ask your father.” I utter in defeat.

Because he was six and half years old when the hockey news was delivered. I thought we just liked the name.

Yeah, weird.

Shhh It’s a Secret

11.20.08

I’m packing, we’re outta here.

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