Monday, November 15th, 2010

radiumgirl: (chuck bartowski)
It's been a busy few days. I might might have a job that would let me quit the Donut Hole, but since I won't know anything until Wednesday, I'm going to hold off on reporting from the job front.

Today was Owen's littlest sister's birthday. She turned twelve and there was cake and pizza and beer. Owen's middle sister came in from school in Ohio and it was great seeing everyone. There hasn't been a full-family gathering since the summer. Even Owen's mom was really into the party, openly commenting on how nice it was to have all her children under one roof again, even just for a few hours.

I got Cassie pajama bottoms and a blanket. It seemed like a safe bet. I hadn't seen her since the summer and normally, for birthdays, I just spy on whatever she's watching on TV when I'm visiting and go from there. She's starting to get old enough that she's asking for make-up and stuff, but she's allergic to everything under the sun, so I avoided that route.

Whatever. She was happy.

Owen got her a hemp bag from the head shop on the South Side. It's pretty sweet. I was picking on him about it because Cassie is pretty much a teeny bopper. She has the whole valley girl attitude down and while we love her, sometimes we really want to smack her. She's been throwing herself at neighborhood boys since she was ten and Owen's dad openly acknowledges the fact that he's going to have his hands full when she gets to high school between her premature boy craziness and the fact that she got all the recessive "pretty genes."

"Poor Dad." Owen said.

"Hm?" I was wrapping presents on the drive over.

"Cassie's gonna be a babe after puberty hits."

"I'm sorry."

Which isn't to say Owen's family is full of uggos or anything. Owen, and his middle sister, Amelia, openly deride Cassie's genetic fortune, citing the fact that they themselves rock the family standard of short and stocky, while Cassie is tall and willowy. She's also blonde-haired and blue-eyed where they're both dark featured. "It's like on The Munsters!" I like to say.

Owen and I plan to continue the fine tradition of spitting dark-featured chubbster babies into the world at some to-be-determined date in the future. My family doesn't have recessive tall, blonde, and beautiful genes. We have recessive ginger genes. And we, too, come from stocky...um...stock.

Don't even get me started on the problems we anticipate in the personality and attitude departments. Our babies will be freaking adorable because both Owen and I were freaking adorable babies ourselves, but I have a pretty appalling defiance problem and Owen was such a bratty child that his mom has said, on more than one occasion, "I thought you were going to be a convict when you grew up. It was a sincere worry of mine. Whatever made you change your ways, I'm thankful for it."

And Owen will look my way and mouth, "Catholic private school" with a faux-shudder.

Me? I got the hand, the spoon, and the belt; in that order.

Anyway, Owen says the hemp bag is phase one of a massive effort to "save Cassie's soul before she gets the idea to go out for cheerleading or something."

Good luck with that, Owen. I'm crossing my fingers, but personally, I think it's a lost cause. I blame Hannah Montana entirely. My children will be raised on a steady diet of Salute Your Shorts, Pete and Pete, and Are You Afraid of the Dark reruns.

June 2011

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