Who's the Humor Whore Now?

You guys remember my recent post on humor?  I called Rob a humor whore, a guy who craves the laughs. I declared that to be a burden and was glad I was different.  I don't need people to laugh at my jokes - I can be funny to myself, and that's good enough for me.

That was until someone actually thought I was funny.

Her name is Evan and she's awesome.  She's funny herself.  She's extremely nice and social and inclusive.  She'll make you feel comfortable and welcome, even if you've just met her.  She's a gem of a human being.

And I see her often.  She's in one of my classes this term.  She attends the same deaf events I attend.  She's good at sign language, and she's comfortable shutting off her voice.  So if she's there and I'm there, likely we're together and we're signing, and it's awesome.

Lately she's decided that I'm funny.  The first few times caught me off guard.  She started laughing at things I would say.  She'd say, "Tamra, you crack me up," and I'd think to myself, "I don't believe I said anything funny."  It was just my standard Tamra-style stuff.  A little sarcasm, a little honesty.  No jokes here.

I'm not just being modest.  I seriously was searching my brain to discover where the humor was in what I'd said.  In this conversation, for instance:

Evan:  "I'm looking forward to your presentation tomorrow."
Tamra:  "Oh, yeah.  Don't be.  It won't be that great."
Evan:  [laughing]  "Tamra, you're hilarious.  'Don't be.  It won't be that great.'  Ah, that's funny."

And I'm thinking, "That so wasn't a joke."  I was trying to decide if I should insist that it wasn't a joke, if I should be insulted that she was laughing at what wasn't intended to really be funny.  But I decided that it did have an element of humor.  The sarcasm bit - the blow-it-off with self-deprecating humor part.

The conversation that put it all over the edge, though, went like this.  There's a group of about 10 of us, some deaf, some hearing.  Most of us signing.  It's 11:30 p.m.  Evan has had 2 beers.

A newbie in the group tells everyone that he's 31 years old.  I say (in English and sign language at the same time) that I'll be 31 soon.  Steve, a deaf man sitting next to me, says in sign language, "Oh!  He's the same age as you."  I nod.  "You're 31.  I'm so proud of you."

At this point I am genuinely stuck.  How do you respond to that?  He's proud of me for ... for what exactly? So I go ahead and say that, again in English and sign language:  "For ... living?"

Evan DIES laughing.  It stops the conversation.  Everyone is staring at Evan, who is laughing so hard that she's crying, as she repeats what I've just said about 5 times.  Again I'm looking at Evan thinking, "It really wasn't that funny."

That was a Friday.  The next time I see her is Wednesday night's class, and she tells everyone that on Friday I'd said something that was hilarious.  She can't remember what it was, but it was awesome.  I tell her that it's just as well because it wasn't that funny.  She insists it was, and I'm convinced at this point that she was just a touch tipsy the first time, so I repeat the whole conversation.  And wouldn't you know it, AGAIN she dies laughing!  She talks about it for the next 5 minutes, repeating the "joke" again and again, and says that I should be a stand-up comedian.

I went home and told Rob proudly, "EVAN thinks I'm funny.  I'm not even trying, and she says I'm funny."

And a Humor Whore is born.

Last Week

Let's talk about last week, shall we?  Cause it was lousy.

This week is finals week, so last week was when all my projects were due.  I wisely did several papers in advance and spread out the homework.  No problems.

Had a stomach bug on Sunday night and Monday well into the day, and that set me back a little, studying-wise.

Then I bombed a Really, Really Important Test.  Granted, I still don't really know how I did, and I won't know for another week or so, but I know that my mind FROZE - and it's all on video!  Not good at all.  Everything that was up there in my head refused to make it out to my hands.  It was embarrassingly, excruciatingly horrible and I dread the feedback that is coming my way.

I performed well in several other important ways - I took a final early and aced it.  (Well, that's not official, but I'm telling you, I rocked it out!)  I did an ASL presentation in class of Wile E. Coyote and Road Runner, and it was pretty sweet.  Etc.

But the fact that my birthday was the day after Really, Really Important Test that I bombed?  Not cool.

Still, Friday was going to redeem everything.  My birthday celebration.  Rob asked me what I wanted for dinner and I said I didn't care, so long as I didn't have to take care of it (oh, and the Browns had to be there.  Not optional).  He said okay.

And then he took care of nothing.  I cleaned the house with the kids' help for hours.  And as Rob was coming home from work late, he called to ask if I wanted to run to the store to pick up stuff for dinner.  I was so mad that I almost cried.  Instead, I verbally abused the man that I adore.  The whole thing was awful.

But then it was good.  How could it not, when it was like this?  Pretty sweet.

On Saturday night I finally was on speaking terms again with my sweet, patient husband.

Moral of the story:
1 - Don't verbally abuse people.
2 - Don't bomb Really, Really Important Tests.


And that's why I have this blog.  So I can pass on nuggets of wisdom.  You're welcome.

A Little Princess Bride, Anyone?

In honor of my birthday, here is this video of Rob doing The Battle of Wits scene from The Princess Bride.

He came into my ASL class and demonstrated an English language version of the ASL concept of Role Shifting.  It's basically when you become a different character, and it's used in ASL all the time.  In English we don't use it so much, except for comic effect or storytelling or something.

Also, my ASL class only had 3 people in it this term.  We've had a lot of fun.  All of them, teacher included, were amazed that Rob would come in and perform for them.  (That's right, my husband is awesomer than your husband.)

Freedom in One Way and Another

Freedom Gone

Today is the last day that I can sit at home alone in the afternoon and do my homework (or not do my homework, whichever).

Freedom Gained

However, I get to play with my kids full-time starting tomorrow!  They can stay up late and I don't have to call them in at 9:00 when the light is perfect for catching fireflies.  They don't have to wake up early in the morning (even though Elijah still will) and they won't need to wake ME up, either.

I LOVE summer's lack of rigorous schedule.  I hate schedules, personally, so I like it when the only thing on our to-do list is "Hang Out and Have Fun!"  This also explains why I'm notoriously boring.  I don't know where the Happening Places in Cincinnati are because I think the most happening place is my backyard fire pit.  ...  This is what it feels like to be old and boring and not care.  How lovely.

Someone Else Finds Freedom

 And that is why you keep the weights on the top of the cage.

Elijah's Story

Elijah has two stories that I want to post.  This one came home today (last day of school is Wednesday!) and it's too brilliant to not post RIGHT NOW!  As always, all spelling is his.  On this particular story, I arranged it so it was easier to see the organization of the piece.

Ahem.

Name:  Elijah Ruben Thacker  Rm. #204
Who lives here?  Spong bob and spider man live here!

Well how it all started is some people moved here 

and they were unpaken 

and a nock was heard 

and they opened the door 

and the people walked in 

and the people yealed very lowed hay dude lets party on dude.  

Ok dude and he sead no because he had to unpack some more 

and he had to buy a bed

and he had to buy a lot of clowes

and he had to clean the house

and he had to buy a cimney

and he had to buy a mail box

and he had to buy a job

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a place to live

and spounge bob and also spider man had to buy a window

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a buck bed

and spuonge bob and spider man had to buy some food

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a tv

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a watch

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a tree

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a straw berry plant

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a vacume

and sponge bob and spider man had to buy a gate

and spo- ob and spider man had to buy a dishwasher

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a refrigearater

and sponge bob and spider man had to buy a filter

and sponge bob and spider man had to buy fifeteen blankets

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a clock

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a porch light

and spounge bob and spider man needed to have a few gates for there house

and spounge bob and spider man neeeded a lot of heters for there house

and spounge bob and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a fire extiwshter

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a fire pit

and spounge bob and spider man had to buy a sink

and spounge bob and spider man just keept buying things all over again 

so there house exploded 

so they had to buy it again 

so they lived happly ever after.

...  To note:  That was all only two sentences.  We have since talked about two writing principles.  1 - Making lists.  2 - Run-on sentences.

The Tankster

I have a bunch of school projects to prepare for, but I'm sick today, so I don't feel like doing any of it.  Also, I haven't been eating today (no point), which means I generally feel like fainting when I stand up.

So why not a blog post, eh?!  I've already read books for 3 hours, listened to podcasts for 2 hours, and stared at the fish tank for another half hour.  (We have an aquatic frog now.  He's really cute.)

Church Practice Time

Tank's trying our patience when it comes to church attendance.  Here's my feeling on it:  He'll grow out of it.  I figure the less of a deal I make of the whole thing, the better off we'll all be.

But I'm starting to feel like nothing we're trying is working at all, and we've tried lots of things.  We came to the conclusion, as parents, that it's because Tank isn't forced to do enough hard things.  He does plenty of chores and such, but most of those things he just does happily.  So our new approach has been started today:  Church Practice Time.

When we were at BYU and Miciah was a toddler, it was suggested by the Stake President's wife that we all do Church Practice Time (or whatever she called it) with our kids.  It meant sitting quietly on the couch every day for an hour and 10 minutes.  Doing nothing.  Nothing at all.  Just sitting with arms folded.

That sounded barbaric to me.  Why would you do that to a toddler?!  Plus, who has the time?  What a waste.  So we didn't do it.  And our kids made it just fine.

Our version is like this:  It's half an hour.  Tank can do anything that he's allowed to do during sacrament meeting:  color in a coloring book, read a church book quietly, or draw in a notebook.  (No, we don't allow toys.  Don't get me started.  No, we don't allow his blankie.  He's almost 6.  No, he can't have a snack.)

We aren't tying it to a reward or punishment system.  The idea is that every Sunday for the rest of Tank's life, until he's out of our house, he'll be attending church.  Which means tolerating sacrament meeting is a skill he needs to learn.  Hence Church Practice Time.  When he starts behaving appropriately through sacrament meeting, we'll assume that he's learned this skill and cancel practice.  If he starts behaving worse, we'll assume he needs more practice time, and we'll extend the half hour.

I'm the meanest mom.  I think we spent more time on the couch today with him SCREAMING at me before Practice Time even started than the actual length of Practice.  (I seriously shut the window so the neighbors wouldn't think he was dying and call the police.)

So it goes.

The Watering Can

Just to highlight the cute, nice, happy little Tank that he usually is, here's a good little story.

We were playing at Parky's Farm in the garden area.  They have a water trough and several watering cans that the kids can fill up as many times as they want and then water select plants.  There was a bucket where the watering cans were kept, and 2 watering cans were sitting in the lawn, about 15 feet away from the bucket.  As we were leaving, I noticed them and said, "Oh, two watering cans."

We were coming back to this same area again, so I made a mental note to ask Tank to pick them up when we came back through in a few minutes.  I kept on walking and when I turned to see where Tank was, I felt a small ping of pride when I discovered him picking up those watering cans and putting them back in the right place.  Without me asking.  And without him needing to - since he wasn't the one who left them there in the first place.

Sometimes kids are pretty cool.

...

I take no credit for this.  My kids are who they are, pretty much despite me as a mother.  I don't think I'm a bad mom, I just know I didn't create their personalities, and I'm highly unlikely to change them.  Behavior modification I can work on - hence Church Practice Time - but am I likely to change Tank's attitude towards church?  No.

And what a relief, right?  I can barely handle my own attitudes, let alone 3 other little people's.  :)  Some day we'll all be adults and so long as I've loved them, and treated them well, I assume we'll all be friends then.

Maybe then Tank will thank me for Church Practice Time.  ...  Or more likely, he'll probably still hate it, even when he's 30 and looking back on his life.  ...  Still gonna make him do it.

Little Guy

The other day Tank had his Sunday shirt on inside out.  I noticed it while we were sitting down in the pew.  I asked him if he wanted to change it (cause honestly, I don't care if it's inside out), and he said yes.  When I went to help him unbutton it, he looked around self-consciously and said, "Not here, Mom."

And then this morning I told him he needed to take a bath.  Non-negotiable.  I started the water for him, like normal, and then said, "Okay, go ahead."  He looked at me like, "Are you kidding me?"  And he said, "Well, get out." 

Little guy's growing up.

(Still asked for help washing his hair, though.  So I guess he's not TOO grown up.)