#BigCabbage

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Connections, Happiness, Humor, Little Story | Posted on 19-12-2016

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What weighs 30 lbs., is comical, crunchy, and has its own hashtag?

#Bigcabbage.

We bought a big cabbage at the produce market for $5. Locally grown, it was a giant cabbage so big that it could be used for cross-training.

But first, we photographed it and posted its glorious girth on Instagram. Who knew that this cabbage of mine would make so many friends? Who knew that #bigcabbage could bring the world together, sharing smiles and gasps, one post at a time. I “liked” all the posts with #bigcabbage and met friends from around the world, including Japan and Kentucky, who shared the love of extraordinary produce.

My daughter carved a face in the cabbage. (She is really good with knives. You can read that post here.) It proved a wonderful, carvable canvas. We then enjoyed that head over the course of ten weeks. Did you know that the cabbage is one of the healthiest foods you can eat? A cruciferous vegetable packed with nutrients. Don’t take my word for it. Read more here.

Nutritious. Crunchy. Economical. Versatile. Funny.

There is nothing like bringing people together one cabbage at a time. #bigcabbage

Happy Monday! #bigcabbage

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Wieners In Your Face

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Humor, Mothering, Parenting | Posted on 29-08-2016

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Shit!

That was the first word uttered in Sausage Party. And that was my first reaction bringing my eleven-year-old and thirteen-year-old to this raunchy, totally-not-VeggieTales matinee.

When I watched the trailer, I thought what could be funnier than talking wieners?

We live in a family with three males, four if you count our dog–and two females. We women are outnumbered. Silly talk. Crudeness. Butt jokes. Wiener humor. We value openness and humor. It’s part of our family. My daughter and I are not phased. In fact, we join in with the comments. That what she said… This drawing is of a friendly penis, drawn years ago. Its artist shall remain unnamed. I keep it thumbtacked to my bulletin board for a giggle.

I was expecting Sausage Party to be full of wiener-dick-balls-buns jokes. It didn’t disappoint. However, we definitely were not the target audience. Ooops. Bad judgement on my part. Swing and a miss!

The movie had some good messages: how everyone has a purpose in life (including bagels and juice boxes). And everyone deserves to be loved. Except. Imagine animated horny hot dogs getting it on with sexy hot dog buns. Food porn. The final scene was an all-out food orgy on aisle 3.

I goofed taking my kids to this movie. All in a day of parenting, I guess, where there are hits and misses. Earlier that day, I took them to lunch at the Thai restaurant (hit), we shopped for school supplies (miss), and my youngest had his first guitar lesson (hit). Then, weenies in your face (miss).

I talk openly with my kids about anatomy. Anatomy is a part of life. I also admit when I’m wrong and I try to make things right. Mistakes are also part of life.

When we left the movie theater, I apologized to my kids that I made a mistake taking them to an inappropriate movie. I relish the fact that they forgave me.

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Mr. Pickle

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Adolescence, Celebrations, Daughters, Happiness, Humor, Kindness, Playing | Posted on 08-08-2016

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I am a winner!

Actually, my daughter is the winner. She won a Mr. Pickle. At the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, she played skee ball with such accuracy that the dolphin leapt across the board into first place.

My daughter could be an Olympic skee baller.

She selected a Mr. Pickle as her prize and gifted him to me without prompting. OK, maybe a little. I could not resist his greenness, his glasses, his mustache, and his little shoes. And the fact that he was shaped like a…giggle…pickle. I gleefully accepted, squealing Thank You!

Mr. Pickle was promptly secured with a seatbelt in the back seat, as he quickly became the newest member of the family.

With a daughter like mine, I too, am a winner.

Mr. Pickles!

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I won a Mr. Pickle!

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What Smells Like Ass?

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Childrearing, Children, Connections, Cooking, Dinner, Family | Posted on 04-04-2016

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What smells like ass? Asks my teenager son, as he walked into the kitchen.

Um, that would be dinner.

It had been weeks since I had prepared a “proper” dinner for my family.

After watching a few episodes of Cooked on Netflix, I felt nostalgic about cooking and preparing a wholesome meal for my family. The show documents various cultures around the world about food preparation and how, in our busier-and-busier lives, many of us have lost touch with taking the time and the steps to prepare a meal. Made with good ingredients and made with love. The narrator and author, Michael Pollan, says that we all have good memories of being “cooked for” and how that makes us feel cared for and loved.

When I have the time and make the time, I do enjoy cooking for my family. It’s just that they don’t always like what I cook.

That night, I baked potatoes. I broiled some cod with fresh parmesan. I roasted broccoli drizzled with olive oil. (Fish + parmesan + broccoli = stink.)

My intentions were to invite and welcome my family to the table. Yet, the smells turned people away. Except for Otis.

He was drooling.

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Scratchy Balls

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Art, Attitude, Memories, Mothers and Sons | Posted on 04-03-2016

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It was a day filled with cupcakes, masks, and scratchy balls.

My ten-year-old son and I adventured to the city, just the two of us. We stumbled upon a necklace in one of the shops: a colorful necklace made from scratchy wool balls. How could I say no?

Mom, you would look so pretty in this. Seriously, how could I resist?

Since then, I’ve been wearing that necklace often. It keeps my neck warm. It goes with everything. People compliment it wherever I go. Wow, cool necklace! But mostly, I smile because it reminds me of that colorful day spent with my sweet son.

My new necklace.

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One Fine Day

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Dogs, Help, Humor | Posted on 23-02-2016

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One fine day. Also known as the day diarrhea sprayed over the entire living room carpet.

It began as a glorious day. Then quickly turned to shit.

Literally.

I came home and was greeted by that smell. I followed the stench and soon spotted a diarrhea lake on the carpet, right in front of the fireplace. How cozy.

Because we don’t have enough hardwood floors to diarrhea on.

I sprang into immediate action! I first yelled at Otis and sent him outside. Poor Otis, getting yelled at, on top of a sick belly.

Hauling over a bucket of warm water, I began scooping up liquid poop with a washcloth. Gagging all the while. Scoop, rinse, gag, repeat.

The smell! The endless pile! I felt sorry for myself and began to weep.

After 20 minutes, the carpet slowly turned from dark brown to light brown. Time for Tide and suds. I generously poured Tide into a fresh bucket of warm water and began to suds the stain. Scrubbing furiously, this was turning into a workout.

The smell wouldn’t go away. Neither would the stain. I needed more suds. More liquid.

I dragged in the shop vac from the garage. The vacuum sucked up the suds and immediately began overflowing, shooting diarrhea suds, plus rotten wet leaves that had been left in the shop vac, across the entire carpet.

I started bawling and screaming at the mess. I needed some help. Time to call the professionals. “You need extraction,” Gary told me.

The next morning, Gary brought his really long hose (giggle) to steam clean. Within 24 hours of the accident, the carpet was pristine, Otis was feeling better, and I was smiling again. Another fine day.

The first to try out the newly steamed carpets. #Otis

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Sweet Pea

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Fun, Humor, Love, Mother, Mothering, Mothers and Sons | Posted on 10-02-2016

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He’s my sweet pea. He’s the apple of my eye. Both of them. Literally!

I love my son. I love this song. And I love gift cards to Amazon…where you can buy practically anything. Check out his latest purchase!

His newest purchase. Excellent!

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“Sweet Pea”

Sweet pea
Apple of my eye
Don’t know when and I don’t know why
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

Sweet pea
What’s all of this about?
Don’t get your way all you do is fuss and pout
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

I’m like the Rock of Gibraltar
I always seem to falter
And the words just get in the way
Oh I know I’m gonna crumble
And I’m trying to stay humble
But I never think before I say

Sweet pea
Keeper of my soul
I know sometimes I’m out of control
You’re the only reason I keep on coming
You’re the only reason I keep on coming yeah
You’re the only reason I keep on coming home

8 is Great

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Animals, Family, Family Pet, Pet, Pets | Posted on 04-01-2016

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How old should a child be to own a pet hamster? The pet store said eight years old.

But my daughter was turning seven. And she wanted a hamster. (Imagine Veruca Salt, “Daddy, I want a squirrel!”)

No, my daughter doesn’t ask for much. So, we gifted her a hamster for her seventh birthday. Along with a hamster cage, a wheel, food, cedar chips, a water bottle, toys, and yogurt snacks.

It was love at first sight. She named him Popcorn.

She snuggled with him. She cooed to him. She fed him grated carrots. She built him obstacles out of cardboard boxes. She let him run free. She cleaned his cage. She let him explore her dollhouse. She gave him clean water. She talked to him in a little hamster voice.

And when she was done playing with him, she always put him back safely in his cage and hooked the latch.

Except not always.

We went out to dinner one night and came home to an empty cage. I feared the worst. Had he fallen through a heater vent? Had he crawled under a door to the great outdoors? I was about to initiate an all-family, whole-house search-and-rescue when my daughter announced that he was probably in the kitchen by the mixer.

Because. That’s where she left him. Ah, perfect seven-year-old logic.

Her 7th birthday…

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Farts. Uranus. Butts. Farts.

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Boys, Childhood, Childrearing, Children, Humor | Posted on 13-12-2015

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Farts. Uranus. Butts. Farts.

Saying any of these words is enough to provoke laughter and jokes around here.

Everyone Poops and The Gas We Pass were two of our first favorite books. “A one hump camel makes a one hump poop, and a two hump camel makes a two hump poop. Only kidding.”

Hee hee.

Then came fact books about planets. Did you know that Uranus wind speeds can reach up to 900 km per hour? That wind shore is fast!

Or that Uranus has an icy mantle that surrounds its rock and iron core? Giggle.

Or that Uranus is covered with a haze made of methane? Laugh out loud.

Fart books with audio buttons are our new favorites! Farts Around the World and Farts in the Wild make us cackle.

And you already know how many beans are consumed around here.

Whoever smelt it dealt it.

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Gag!

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Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Humor | Posted on 09-12-2015

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I once went to a dentist where the dental hygienist told me that she would brush her tongue so far back that she would make herself gag. She said that was a sign that her tongue was really clean.

Yeah. She told this me while her hands were in my mouth and my only option was to say, “huh.” Because everyone knows you can’t say anything with clarity when someone’s hands are in your mouth.

Do you know what is even gaggier? The dentist there was convicted of stabbing his wife to death with a pair of her sewing scissors. Yeah. Those murderer’s hands were also in my mouth, poking around with shiny, silver, sharp scrapers. Yikes!

You can guess that I promptly changed dentists. I now have a dental hygienist who asks me lots of questions while her hands are in my mouth. But at least my new dentist has not been convicted of murder. Yet.

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