Pasta Query...

So this question may truly indicate that it is time for me to head to funny farm, but is it just me or do certain types of pasta seem to gravitate to the floor more readily than others? I mean really! Penne seems to stay on the table, but I make rigatoni or broken rigatoni (the little half ones) and I am picking them up off the floor for an hour. Yes, I made them for the kids today and even I had a hard time keeping them in the pan when I was cooking them. And don't get me started on spaghetti. Perhaps it is sort of like cold cereal. I've banned Kix from my house--they roll. Off the table, on the floor, away from the broom--banned. Life--allowed, but only under controlled circumstances. Life + Milk = substance stronger than cement. In my last house I left permenant "Life bricks" on the tile floor. No amount of scrubbing could get it off after it had set. Or maybe pasta is more like beverages. No one spills their cup with a lid on it. Only the water glass that is FULL or the milk or grape juice WITHOUT the lid go over. So I suppose, pasta has a life of its own as well.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Today was my mom's birthday. She is 35 again. She is going to always be 35 to me. I suppose it is only fair since I'll always be 10 to her. I am so luck to have her. She is fun to be with. We can always find something to talk about. Seriously--my husband asks, "what did you do the whole time?" We talked? Not a concept he can get his mind around. She likes good books--and bad ones sometimes. She has a wacky sense of humor. She gets my kids even wackier sense of humor. I think that is because it is her fault, but what do I know? She loves my kids with abandon and passion like a grandma should. She tells me I had the best Grandma in the world (she is right--her mom rocked!) but I think that now, my kids have the best Grandma ever. (They actually have two because my Mother-in-law rocks as well.)

My mom loves my husband--and even manages to make him laugh out loud. Not an easy task, for those of you that know him. She eggs him on--and likes to go on road trips with him. I'm not sure I like to go on road trips with him as much as she likes to go out on the open road with him. My mom is an adventurous soul--and a homebody at the same time. I love having pajama days with her where we all just stay in our nighties and eat and play games and watch movies and read lots of books. I love that we all get those. My mom invented those--I don't think my grandma ever spent a day not dressed, but my mom recognizes a soul's need to rest and find peace in the home.

My mom is so generous. For her birthday, she always spends more on other people than we spend on her. We had a lovely lunch out--which she paid for--even though it is her birthday. I love that my mom cares about people. She is a divine individual and I am glad that I got to spend today, her birthday with her.

Bubbles

I hate bubbles. Oh, I love to watch the joy in my children's eyes, the fun they have while they are playing, but really--cold, slimy, messy, yuck! However, I give in and let them play with them outside or in the bathtub. Today was no different. Gorgeous day. Light wind, trees are all in bloom. Grass is green. We are sitting on the porch. I listen as they exchange the normal "bubble" banter: "mine are bigger," "mine fly higher," "mine don't pop." I remind my children that they need to stand on the grass to blow their bubbles so they don't get bubble juice on mommy. I remind them that standing OVER someone gets people all sticky from the drips from the bubble stick. I explain that gravity, such as it is, works and bubble juice drips DOWN. Guess what? It also pours. Orion was so enthralled with his beautiful bubbles that he didn't notice that he a)was standing ABOVE mommy and b) his bubble juice was pouring down the back of mommy's head and shirt. Cold, slimy, messy, yuck! I hate bubbles.