Archive for April, 2014

Marital Mondays: Odd Couple

After we hung out with our friend a couple of weeks ago, the following conversation happened:

H: He thought I was ten years older than you? Wow.

M: People act like the seven is a lot. It is seven, right?

H: It’s like seven and three quarters.

M: Well it’s past five. I guess you do round up to ten, but it’s not ten. I don’t look at you and go, “Dang, he looks like he’s old enough to be my daddy.” Well, maybe sometimes when you don’t shave, but it doesn’t feel weird to me.

H: (Chewing chicken and staring at me)

M: Wait, *are* we that weird couple?

H: Yes.

M: Oh my gosh!!

H: But not for that reason.

M: *eye roll*

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Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Spanish Role Play

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Marital Mondays: I’m Trying to Get My Stroll On!

My Galaxy was tucked firmly in my grip, heart hammering, as Hannibal uttered those words I’d been hopelessly yearning to hear into the receiver: “I got you a badge for Comic-Con! My friend’s wife doesn’t want to go, because she’s pregnant, so it’s all yours.”

I silently shook my 33-year-old booty and gesticulated wildly, fist pumping and doing the electric slide. I didn’t really hear any of the words he said after “Comic-Con.” Amidst planning what the kids could cosplay as, solidifying hotel accommodations, and finally deciding to invest in a cheap umbrella stroller for Fuss, I forgot to check the rules on such things.

Apparently, there are no strollers allowed at Comic-Con. I don’t know how this is going to work. I get it. I hate when people bring strollers to shop downtown. They suck in crowds. They’re slow, bulky, and not nice to toes (fun story). What if Fuss gets crushed? What if she gets lost? Should I put her on a leash? I’m soooo against that.

Maybe I can get away with building an At-At attached to a wagon, and she can “cosplay” in that. I’m really genuinely concerned. She did alright at Wondercon this weekend, but she did get tired eventually, and San Diego is a completely different party.

If you’ve taken a toddler to Comic-Con, please advise me. Otherwise, she will be dressing up as Professor X. Sorry.

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Tuesdays With Mooch & Fuss: Decade Dioramas (1960s)

Last week, a question Mooch had about Weight Watchers sparked a full on study of the sixties. The decade is rich with international history as well, but we always start at “home” to see what was going on here at the time. We decided to dive in with an art project to keep the toddler interested. Creating dioramas allowed us to cover a broad range of topics from sports to segregation. Fuss seemed to be most interested in pop culture, including clothing, hairstyles, musicals and dolls.

The girls learned about Jim Crow, The Shirelles, Mary Poppins, Muhammad Ali, John F. Kennedy, and more. The chit chat that took place over a simple afternoon of cutting and pasting was unbelievable. I’m certain that it created a lasting memory.

This was just the beginning. As a result, we’ll be watching Panther, Mary Poppins, Soul Train, and clips of The Beach Boys and The Shirelles. Also on our list is a read aloud of James and the Giant Peach, which was published in 1961 (Mooch has already read it, of course, but she doesn’t mind hearing it again). We’re going to look for Lobo (the first comic book featuring an African-American lead), and we’re going to memorize some Amiri Baraka. I’m sure all of this will spin off into many more conversations and active learning. I’m excited to share it all with you.

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Marital Mondays: Addiction in Marriage


My name is Myshell Tabu, and my husband is addicted to social media. I know you aren’t supposed to attend addiction meetings in someone’s stead, but he’s busy sharing links on Facebook from his Feedly account, so he couldn’t be here today.

It’s not actually Twitter or Facebook that make his addiction inconvenient. It’s his recent discovery of Instagram. While most of us have been snapping vintage square-shaped photos for over a year now, Hannibal just joined a few weeks ago. He’s Instagramming EVERYTHING — the back of his coworker’s heads, palindromes in his car mileage, gross looking plates of food, shots angled up his nostrils, and, yesterday, he even took an Instagram of me taking an Instagram of our children (Please disregard the fact that I was on Instagram, too. I don’t have a problem. I promise. I just wanted to point out how meta the moment was). #instagraminception

Last night, we both left the kitchen at the same time to head to bed to hang out. He went to the restroom on his way to the bedroom, stating that he had to urinate. I plugged in my phone, blew my nose, got in bed, and my phone started vibrating. I got up to check, and it was vibrating with Hannibal’s tweets!! He stayed on the toilet for another fifteen minutes! “It takes twenty seconds to pee, not twenty TWEETS” I quipped, when he returned. He laughed.

“No, I had to brush my teeth.” Aha! Denial! It’s a good think he didn’t think to ask how I knew he was on twitter if I wasn’t on Twitter. Shhh.

So we’re here today (well, I’m here), because HE has a problem.

Headed out with co-workers

A Mileage Palidrome

A busted zipper? Really?

An instagram of an instagram

Disregard the phone in my hand. I don't have the problem. Seriously. It's my husband's problem.

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