Addison: “I need the day off.”

Dr. Webber: “What for?”

Addison: “For drinking.”

As a parent I want my kids to grow bigger than I am. I’ve always known they will someday grow taller and bigger and stronger.

So tell me why I freaked out a couple of weeks ago when my oldest, my 11 1/2 year old, needed ADULT size sneakers. It’s not like I didn’t know it was going to happen.

Then, just as I’m beginning to accept the boy has man size feet he deals me another blow.

He was getting ready to leave for Temple Saturday morning (it’s Rosh Hashanah people) and put on his “dress” shoes. And by dress shoes I mean what qualifies as dress shoes in my boys’ world – Land’s End All Weather Mocs. They were a bit too big last year and I was confident they would fit him…

Of course, you guessed it, they were too small. But, BUT, he wore mine. MINE. And they were a bit small apparently. SMALL. MY SHOES WERE TOO SMALL FOR MY CHILD.

How does this happen? On the one hand I’m glad. I’m praying all the boys are taller than me & their father. (We’ve been called the Shetland people by friends because we’re both so short.) But on the other hand, MY SON’S FEET ARE THE SAME SIZE AS MINE.

I’m not ready.

I’ve been writing posts. Really.

Ok, I’ve writing posts IN. MY. HEAD. almost everyday on my way to work but, well, you know how that goes. By the time I step into my office I’ve forgotten everything or at the very least I have too much to do to take the time to type it out.

I’ve even tried jotting notes down for later but that doesn’t seem to be working either. And please, dear God, PLEASE, do not suggest recording my thoughts. I tried it back when I was trying to write for magazines and children’s books. It works but the thing with recording your thoughts is that then… you have to listen to them.

First of all, things never sound as witty on a recording as in my head.

Second, the sound of my voice makes me want to stick sharp, pointy things into my ears to destroy my eardrums and any chance of having to hear my voice again. How anyone can listen to me speak and not run screaming from the room is beyond me. Seriously. Every time I hear my voice on a recording I never want to inflict that pain on anyone again. A fact my husband will now use against me in instances like last night when he actually said, “Just stop speaking, woman.” Ha! All he needed to do was play my recorded voice and it would have shut me up for longer than the 5.6 seconds that I did close my mouth in indignation.

Where was I? Ah yes, blogging. Anyone have any ideas how I can harness my brilliant *cough* thoughts on the drive to work and get them into the computer to entertain the 6 non-family readers I have left after my serious lack of blogging? Holy run on sentence Batman!

Anyway, must go. Karate is calling. No, not for me. One of the littles is about to “try it out” for a class. Any guesses as to the chance he’ll not like it?

After making my coffee this morning I came upon this:

I was not too concerned until saw this around the corner of the stairs:

Before I knew it I saw this:

And this:

The victim:

Services will be held tonight at 8pm in the MoMMY household. In lieu of flowers, all contributions can be made to the Children’s Television Workshop.

• see the carnage/hide your eyes