<p>lol
even though a major group of folks went through Evergreen state college together- they haven't shared pot smoking stories -
the two daughters of the hosts who have recently graduated from college however- have shared frat party stories from the east coast - but mostly it is pretty tame- no blowtorches ( inside anyway)</p>
<p>but we do have nekkid hottub-</p>
<p>ok, tequila, Cuervo gold, straight up for me....</p>
<p>I've survived. Daughter submitted app to UC today around 1 pm, a whole 11 hours before the deadline... and she came home and finished of the Univ. of Washington app, submitted online shortly before 11. So she's 5 down, 6 to go with the apps .... and I'm done worrying. All of the remaing apps are expensive private reach schools on the east coast, so I don't care if she blows them all off. No more work for me until January, when its FAFSA time.</p>
<p>And Emerald... I think my son is applying to Evergreen as a transfer, for no particular good reason than that they'll probably let him in... but information kind of comes from him in bits and spurts... I know that Evergreen sent a lovely brochure here... whatever he does, son is definitely a west-coaster, and by "coast" we pretty much mean within spitting distance of the Pacific Ocean.</p>
<p>To Calmom! A survivor of the Application phase... And a role model in the balancing act of help a little, hands off a little, nag just a little ..... :)</p>
<p>Great Thanksgiving story, bookiemom! :D If the pervy, old gramps gets away with senility as an excuse for jabbering porn at Thanksgiving dinner, you are certainly entitled to claim a severe case of PMS/perimenopause and strangle him with your cloth napkin the next time he says something inappropriate. :) We ought to get ALL of these people together...my blowtorch-wielding, control freak FBIL with SBmom's Evildog and Evildog mom, and this horndog grampa. Come to think of it, they'd probably all get along! :rolleyes: </p>
<p>
[quote]
I'll sit next to Grandpa-- just to get the sort of proposition I have not heard since the '90's.... but could you put a Mick Jagger wig on him for full effect? --SBmom
[/quote]
As always, SB -- ROTFLMAO! :D</p>
<p>:) :::::18 slugghuggs to the Mudgekin!::::::: :)</p>
<p>Oh, Happy Day, Calmom! Now, we wait. ;)</p>
<p>Celebrating Mudgerella's birthday and Calmom's release from Purgatory. And can I say that I look forward to hearing how Slugg's holiday shopping goes? Oh, wait, I don't know if she does the Christmas thing. Well, if not, I can't wait to hear her stories of OTHER people's holiday shopping....</p>
<p>Skol. I have a Swedish stepfather. Who has Swedish children and grandchildren. Who are all quite lovely. And skol is a lovely, heartfelt toast. Have you ever seen it done? Hand to heart and all? Gaze in the eyes and all? And then, don't forget, the aquavit.....</p>
<p>... and the GLOGG!! (Which my Swedish friend fixed for us on Thanksgiving. After drinking it, complete with raisins and almond bits in the bottom of the glass that you fished out with a spoon), I don't remember much of the rest of the afternoon.... except I think we sat in the hot tub.)</p>
<p>... nekkid?</p>
<p>SBMom, lol.</p>
<p>So how about nekkid Thanksgiving? My D, oh she of the very strong will, didn't really like clothing as a youngster. Now of course that it is very expensive she likes it more. Anyway, the Thanksgiving that she was 2 we went back to in-laws.</p>
<p>They are back East in a very wealthy and conservative small city. They are also Catholic, like the actually go to church and put ash on your foreheads kind.</p>
<p>Well I was bound and determined to get D at the Thanksgiving table in her beeyootiful dress. We were on the third floor of the house, I was dressing her. It took a solid 45 minutes to cajole, threaten, and finally stranglehold her into letting me the dress on. And the tights. Remember tights on 2 year olds? How their legs are made of squirmy rubber? And the patent leather shoes?</p>
<p>Finally, having squished her in like a sausage, I set off down the stairs. She refuses to come with me, but I get her to say she will come after. She bumps down the stairs on her bottom. By the time she reaches the dining room on the first floor, you got it. No more dress. No more little patent leather shoes. No more tights. I barely convinced her to keep the diaper on.</p>
<p>It was a lovely Thanksgiving. Luckily she was the first girl grandchild and she has red hair in the Irish family that she inherited from Grandma, so she got by. I however, was questioned in my parenting skills until said D started to provide evidence that nekkid Thanksgiving or no nekkid Thanksgiving she was quite highly functional.</p>
<p>Isn't it funny to look back on what we cared about when our first kid was a baby? If I had the cash spent on all the sweet little dresses, tights, and shoes, I could cover the 2nd semester bill I just got... Meanwhile, 3rd kid = intentional diaper for TG!!!!</p>
<p>
[quote]
If I had the cash spent on all the sweet little dresses, tights, and shoes,
[/quote]
I should really get out a calculator to tote up all I've saved by having a boy-child. I so clearly recall walking the streets of Manhattan pregnant with what I knew was a boy. The $300 dresses for 2-year olds in Bergdorf's window are still imprinted on my mind some 19 years later, they were that delicious. But I also remember realizing at that moment that I was saved from being led into temptation, purely by the luck of the gender draw. :D</p>
<p>Have you ever seen the "Stewart" character on Madd TV? He is an awful child who always takes his pants off saying "it itches"...my DD had tantrums about socks as a 2 year old... still doesn't wear stockings or tights (bare legs unless it's snowing)...yeah I guess it still itches!</p>
<p>Yeah, and if the seam on the socks wasn't perfectly aligned, OMG. And if the tights got wet!!!!!!</p>
<p>You better believe it, jmmom. </p>
<p>My daughter was as compliant as one of those long-haired dogs they show on the Westminster Dog Show, who just stand there patiently getting primped-- and then manage to behave beautifully and continue to look fabulous through the day. I cannot tell you how much money I-- a bona fide cheapskate non-shopper who is most comfortable wearing old sweats with holes in them and fuzzy slippers-- spent on those incredible girls clothes. The exquisite english liberty print gowns, the petit bateau playclothes, the italian shoes, the crisp and timeless Florence Eisenman traditional ensembles, the gymboree, the groovy American Rag imported stuff that looked like tiny knockoffs of Annie Hall, the babygap, the pebbles flinstone bikinis, the sparkle shoes, the tutus, the tie-dye, the 300 thread count bathrobes.... I went HOG WILD. </p>
<p>What is so funny now (though D, too, is not a shopper): I consider her 99% flawless but her only ding is a slightly obnoxious clothes horseness/ shallowness about looks... </p>
<p>AND IT WAS I WHO CREATED HER!!! :eek:</p>
<p>Bookiemom, a Thanksgiving cure for the horndog grampa...use the carving knife to cut off his giblets! :eek: Hah, that'll <em>fix</em> him.</p>
<p>Oh yeah, the last thing my sister used to say before leaving her two little boys with me was, "Make sure they have clothes on when I get back!" Summer in Nevada demands as little clothing as possible. Diapers with nothing else is suitable attire for anyone over the age of Two. Just go to a grocery store in Las Vegas during the month of July, and you'll see what I mean. ;)</p>
<p>My nephews would wait until their mother was out of range, and then, they'd strip down, toddler-style. Off came the miniature Reeboks and the cute, little tube socks. Then, the matching OshKosh overalls and those adorable, stripey, little boy shirts. Finally, freed from their clothing shackles (down to a diaper and pair of Barney underpants), I'd let them jump on the sofa for a while. After a snack, they'd spend the rest of the morning playing outside in the sprinkler. Before lunch, I'd hose them down and let them air dry. By the time my sister got home, the kids looked freshly bathed, well fed, and happily worn out.</p>
<p>We got caught once when my sister came home from work early one day. The boys were in various stages of undress, either completely nekkid or in loin cloths. One may have been wearing a cloth diaper around his neck as a makeshift Superman cape. I think my sister always wanted the boys to look like they could have their pictures taken at a Sear's portrait studio at any time of the day or night. At least, when I was there to babysit, the venue was more like Trailer Life Magazine or one of those touchy-feely issues of Utne. :)</p>
<p>And, no...despite my influence, they did not turn out to be cast members of the Las Vegas male revue, Thunder From Down Under. :cool:</p>
<p>
What is it with these kids and 'it doesn't feel right!' When s2 was little, I spent a fortune on sox, trying to find a brand that worked. Then there was The Tying of The Shoes ordeal -- 3 tries and then we live with it was my motto. Then cut out every label of every shirt and pair of undies. He did outgrow it, but for a while barefoot and diaper-only sounded good.</p>
<p>My MIL routinely sent dryer-size boxes full of the Baby Gap and toddler Gap lines. The first time my boys went shopping for clothes, they were 10 or 11 years old. </p>
<p>The nanny tried to preserve the new clothes by dressing them in cleaning rags. Kind of pointless since the new clothes arrived several times a year, but there is only so much you can explain to a righteous 72 year old Chinese woman. The boys were oblivious about what they were wearing. I did long for a little pink splurge buying and have gotten some in with my nieces.</p>
<p>One Halloween at the in-laws, however, S1 announced he wasn't going trick or treating. He could have said he was going to snort crack cocaine. I lost all sense of composure. Skip Halloween? Not gonna happen on my watch. I wrestled him into his pirate costume while he wailed. Meanwhile, my softie MIL tried to find some way to make it better for him. She presented him a 12 inch carving knife in a Saran-wrapped holster for his pirate 'sword'. Voila! His sniffles disappeared. He was four. The knife was as long as his little leg.</p>
<p>We had a lovely little stroll around the neighborhood with his cousin. The knife returned to the kitchen drawer without incident.</p>
<p>Don't even wanna try and guess what is it about the swords :eek:. DS owned the usual array of rubber/plastic swords mimicking pirate/knight of the round table/whatever armaments. Some with a scabbard, some with blinking red light, some curved... Let someone offer him a trip to the toy store and he would review every item in every "boy" aisle - and when I say review, I mean thoroughly analyze with no sense of the passage of time while I shifted from one foot to the other. At the end of the day, he would choose - yep, another cheapo-deepo sword.</p>
<p>Well, until he graduated to the Ninja turtle phase. With that, he did branch out into nunchuks.</p>
<p>The Developmental Stages of Boys as Noted by cheers</p>
<ol>
<li><p>Vehicles and wheels. First stage of conciousness. Continues until death.</p></li>
<li><p>Weapons, real or imagined. Age 3 to 4. Don't even attempt to prevent this stage by banning toy weapons. They will use sticks, rocks, household tools. They don't even miss the toys. This fascination probably continues until death but men have learned to politely suppress the interest in wider society.</p></li>
<li><p>Balls. This is an optional stage but those boys who are interested in balls tend to be ball-obsessed. Starts as early as Age 2, continues in a milder form (tennis, squash, golf--or watching ball sports on TV). Continues until infirmity or death. </p></li>
<li><p>Statistics. Age 7 to 8. Continues until death. Generally starts and continues with sports statistics, but can pertain to other subjects such as Bill Gates and his wealth. (I banned Bill Gates as a topic of conversation at my dinner table).</p></li>
</ol>
<p>For all their supposed faults, men have done a fantastic job of pretending they are merely mildly interested in these subjects.</p>
<p>
[quote]
Don't even attempt to prevent this stage by banning toy weapons.
[/quote]
Cheers, I believe I was just in the process of fine-tuning my Banned Weapons Policy, when I realized the futility.... At age 18 months, upon returning home from a trip to the local park, DS picked up a banana -a BANANA!- held one end like the handle of a pistol, pointed the other end at me and mouthed "kkew, kkew."</p>
<p>Now, I was there at the local park - he's only 18 months, remember? Pushing him on swing, watching him climb the rope web thing-y, catching him from the slide. I'm sure he played with some slightly older boys, but I didn't see any notable interaction. Nevertheless, they managed to induct him into phase 2 - a little early according to your chart. Precocious, I guess ;).</p>