Archive for March, 2012

Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Co-ops and Performances


With coarse pigtails flying into the wind and airplane arms spanning about three feet, Fuss took off from her comfortable spot near my arm today. We visited a pre-school for her, because after drop-in daycare during Mooch’s commercial shoot Monday, she didn’t want to return to homeschool. I want to do what is best for her, and if that’s allowing her to hug other children until they fall on the floor together, then so be it. Mooch thrived at home. Fuss thrives at home — but only academically. She’ll likely start going two to three days per week in July, so she’ll still be homeschooled part-time. I may choose a co-op, or I may resume schooling a couple of extra kids at my home.  That would give her what she needs, and also earn me some more cheese. 🙂

That’s not all. The past couple of weeks, she has emerged from her stranger danger shy shell. If you remember November through February, she would scream bloody murder at anyone who said hello or even looked at her. Now she serves up the salutations and even walks away with certain people. Hopefully the tantrum phase ends as quickly as the bashful one did.

Mooch is all Shakespearean in preparation for her show this Saturday. She’ll be singing “All Africa” by Abbey Lincoln, and she’ll be performing excerpts from various plays. This is a video of her practicing:

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Marital Mondays: Sick and Joyful


This daily blog hangs over my head like an antique chandelier — pretty, but heavy enough to fall and knock the words right out of me. I was sick as hell last week, so I rested for two days like a normal person and didn’t write at all. I actually didn’t miss it. It gave me time to focus on curriculum building for Fuss and other household administrative tasks.

Hannibal made many sacrifices last week, including coming home from work early Tuesday (like leaving right after he got there), because Fuss was throwing all brands of tantrum and I was too weak to deal with it. He did all of my normal driving that day, with the exception of driving Mooch to school. I have no idea how I got her there that morning, but we’re all still alive.

So, this week’s “Marital Mondays” blog is a simple shout out to the man who supports me even when it throws his whole day completely off the rails. I think he even tried to cook a little that day. He hustles so that I can customize my lifestyle, and I can’t thank him enough for the impact it is having on our girls to have me molding them all day everyday. Thanks, honey!

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Thematic Thursdays: Sperm Calculus

I knew sperm could pop and lock — breakdance, even — but do calculus? This is some all new shit even for Myshell Tabu. Men love to boast about all of the tricks they can do in the bed, but nothing turns me on like the idea of duck butter doing math. Why? Because I like smarts. That’s why. Being smart in the pants is like icing on the … let’s move on.

According to scientists, sperm have to calculate the rate of change of concentration in order to react to it by altering their speed.

How are they doing it? That’s a bit less clear. The best guess scientists have now is that sperm have a pair of proteins to which calcium ions will bind at different speeds, allowing sperm to sort of chemically derive the rate of change. That’s not for sure though. Whatever is going on in there, sperm-speed is determined by something that requires calculus to express.

And why do they do calculus? It’s pretty simple really. The amount of calcium-concentration controlling chemicals increases as the sperm get closer and closer to the egg. When they get really close the amount of chemicals in the surrounding area — and therefore, the concentration of calcium in the sperm itself — is pretty high. By reacting to the change in concentration instead of the concentration itself, sperm can have their speed changed any time, whereas if they just reacted to the concentration, they’d just keep getting faster and faster.

Sharpen up, fellas! If your balls can do it, you can, too!  Now that’s an aphorism for our times.

[Source: Medgadget]

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Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Pita Pizzas Schoolhouse Rocks Nokia

Last Saturday, the girls and I made pita pizzas. It was really simple, because I didn’t make the sauce from scratch this time around. We just used pita bread, spaghetti sauce, fresh spinach, and Daiya (soyless vegan cheese). It’s such a simple recipe that even Fuss could participate fully. In fact, she made her own. They were really yummy.

You basically preheat the oven to 425 degrees, spread the sauce on sprinkle spinach (or whatever toppings you want) and cheese, and then bake it for 10-12 minutes.

This past Friday, Mooch starred as the conductor in her class’ Schoolhouse Rocks play. She sang Conjunction Junction with the class singing background. It was awesome! She’ll be shooting a Nokia commercial this coming Monday and a web series in April and May. She’s on avail for Capitol One, but I’ll keep you posted.

To read or see more about homeschooling Fuss, please visit Teaching Fuss.

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Marital Mondays: No 3 Year Itch Here

“The only thing consistent in the world is change.”

I don’t know if Hannibal squeezes toothpaste from the middle of the tube or even leaves the cap off, because we use separate tubes. I’ve never found pubic hair on the soap, because I don’t scrub with his Dove. The cliche toilet seat up, or typical toenail clippings in the bed, don’t happen in our house, but that doesn’t mean Hannibal doesn’t find new and clandestine ways to annoy the living shit out of me. On rare occasions he places his oleaginous head on my pillow leaving behind a residue that makes me cringe. The love of my life is the only one I know who can pick food from his teeth with his pinky nail all while talking and chewing simultaneously. Yeah, it’s pretty gross.

Hannibal is marinated in so much awesome sauce that the aforementioned criticisms don’t even show up on his marital report card (for lack of a better metaphor, because I’m writing this at fucking midnight). He shows up for the damn job. Everyday. This man washes dishes, cleans the kitchen, bathes the baby, reads countless chapters to Mooch, cuddles with me, listens to me, and makes us all laugh incessantly. All of that is AFTER working eight hours, and he doesn’t complain. He does all of that, puts me to bed, and then works some more on his own projects! His ambition borders on the psychotic.

This Wednesday at 6:30-ish, our marriage will be officially three years old.  That’s right.  Our marriage is a stumbling toddler, who is just gaining speed and getting it’s vocabulary together.  During the first three years of marriage, a lot of adjustment takes place — sleep schedules, sex schedules, diet, free time, budgeting, spending habits. I’m no expert at all, but I’ll offer this: KEEP BONING! The endorphins, and general sextastic energy makes all the work so worth it. I know. Kids make everyone tired. Sometimes my kids make me want to gouge my spleen out with a spork. Get it in! Morning sex, mid-night sex, makeout sessions, massages, holding each other, spooning, oral sex — these all count. Do them. Laugh and have sex. Then laugh some more. Rinse and repeat.

When we have sex, we speak to each other so much more sweetly. Shit gets resolved. We come up with new projects and ideas. Then we go work even harder and be even more supportive. I’ve got no beef with marriage. This has been a hilarious three years, and I’m looking forward to eternity.

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