Kindred Spirits

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This is the cover of the Anne of Green Gables book I had.She’s a hottie, right?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Y’all. I am very picky.
I don’t like my potato salad unless it is made with Hellman’s mayonnaise. (No, this post was not sponsored by Hellman’s. Call me? Hellman’s?? We can work something out, K?)
I don’t like books that have too many dialogue tags. “They are tedious,” she said, tediously.
I only like spring days that still have a bite of cool in them. Otherwise there’s sneezing. And it’s not the cute, delicate lady-sneezing like a baby bunny. My sneezing is wet-gorilla sneezing.
Apples must be tart. This Red Delicious nonsense is just a dumbing down of apples.
And, classic books don’t translate well into film. In general. I mean, have you SEEN The Scarlet Letter? I’m talking the Demi Moore version. Enough said.
I have read every one of the Anne of Green Gables series, MULTIPLE times. And, yes, I did allow the 1985 television adaptation (with an awesomely cranky Marilla by Colleen Dewhurst).
So, when the great Netflixes informed me that a NEW ANNE was coming… I was skeptical. You know when someone says to you, “Hey! I made some chocolate chip cookies!” and just as you take a bite they add, “Gluten, egg, and dairy free! YOU CAN’T EVEN TELL, CAN YOU.”
You can tell. You can so totally tell.
That’s how I felt about a New Anne.  But, y’all – Netflix has done it right.

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This is a series that is so in tune with my Anne that I nearly cried. Which, as you know, is something a totally dramatic girl would do. This is an Anne that is comical and tragic and gawky,  and at times plain, and at at other times just aglow (when she is least aware of it). She is, in other words, what we girls are. Or me, at least. I do comical and tragic and gawky. I do plain.

I even, every once in a while, glow.
I sat down to start watching this while folding laundry one night because God forbid I ever just watch something without folding laundry. The boys were playing “Smash All the Things” in the other room, but as soon as they heard the television come on, they started sniffing around like the little tv vultures they are.

“Whatcha watchin?” Red asked. “Is it Star Wars? Legos? Something with swords?” I sighed and folded my four hundredth pair of Lego Star Wars underpants. He stared at the screen and then, asked… “Anne of… Green Bagels?”
“No, dear. Shhhhhh. Mommy’s watching. Mommy needs this show.”
We watched, and Blonde, another heat-seeking (i.e. television) missile wandered in, and we all soaked in all the Gables and the Green-ness.

Anne says,  ““Kindred spirits are not so scarce as I used to think.” Anne and I are kindred spirits. She has the same ideas about classic literature and potato salad, I am sure of it. Watch, you’ll see.

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As a Netflix StreamTeam blogger, I get to watch the awesomeness that is Netflix, and chatter about it on Momsie. It’s a great gig.

 

 

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Princesses and Pirates and Popcorn.

Ok. I guess you could say I am a Princess kind of person. I don’t necessarily like pink or tea parties or even tiaras (those are fun on birthdays because then people bring you presents) but if I had to choose…

It’s really by process of elimination. I cannot climb ropes. I don’t like high places. I certainly don’t get all this general swashbuckling about. It’s beyond me. I might be able to swash or buckle, but certainly not both at the same time.

I can rock a mean black eyeliner though. And an eye patch. But that’s another post for another day.

Last week I had two extra boys at my house. We were busy. It was a Star Wars day, which meant we were playing Star Wars legos and Star Wars tag and Star Wars bikes and Star Wars pretty much anything as long as there could be a Luke and someone with a blaster. Steve the cat was Chewbacca. I always got to be Leia. That kind of thing.

It was all fun until that dreaded time after lunch where everyone gets Tired of Each Other.

And then, that’s when I decided to snag them with my Secret Weapon: Princesses.

I know. I know it’s a stretch, stay with me.

I explained that I had been asked to review THIS, which I brandished at them with much flair, and Princessey splendour.swan-princess-dvd-754x1024.jpgThere was some silence. And then I offered popcorn, and they shrugged and said, “Ok!”

I know. This doesn’t sound very promising but here’s the deal: I love watching movies with my kids. And I grew up on Snow White, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty… and let’s just say those don’t get a lot of play at our house. And this afternoon, my boys sat and watched a princess become a pirate and this was what they did:

 

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They were totally into it, y’all. Total silence. Except for small-boy inhalation-munching of popcorn.

And also this: WHY is there a basket of laundry in EVERY picture I ever take? Curse you, laundry. Diva photo-bomber.

 

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The movie had pirates. It had weird beasties. It had high seas and music and adventures and also some moments where we all got the giggles. I snort-laughed at one point. That is a really, really huge compliment, by the way. It means I am invested in the pirates and beasties, which doesn’t happen all time when watching with my boys. It also means I need to work on my social cues, but that’s another post for another day.

Hey, Swan Princess, who knew?
It was all rather surprising.

Popcorn, a movie, pirates, princesses, and a basic lesson on how we shouldn’t pile on expectations. Done. All in one afternoon.

 

Got Culture?

Newsflash: It’s still summer at our house.
We are swimming. And sweating. And playing endless games of baseball. And hunting for fireflies. And staying up way too late.
And somewhere in there, we are needing a nap, y’all.
I’m talking about me, here. Who cares about the children.

Also, this. My children are never going to leave me alone.

Their new love is making plays. Yesterday we had a matinee entitled:

Darth and Luke Do Something to the Cat.

It was supposed to be a double feature, but The Cat Strikes Back simply did not go well. As one would expect.
However, there are talks of all this being made into a movie.

My children are nutty and creative and I love them. But Lord bless it, I need to show them some real culture or I’m going to be stuck watching Luke and Darth Have No Point in This One for the rest of my summer.

Enter:
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Julie Andrews!!!! To the rescue! And don’t you know, if you need to be rescued from pretty much anything, she is your woman. If she can fix those eyebrows on that one girl in the Princess Diaries, then she can These are a Few of My Favorite Things—you pretty much out of any pickle. And the ever wonderful and mighty Netflix has a new show, starring Dame Andrews just for the young ‘uns:

 

The puppet troupe on “Julie’s Greenroom” will be known as the Greenies. Andrews’ Miss Julie character will work with the youthful puppets throughout the season to create a stage show that incorporates mime, music, dance, improv, circus arts and singing. Guest stars range from Alec Baldwin, to Joshua Bell, to (squeee!) CAROL, QUEEN OF AWESOMENESS, BURNETT.

“This project represents the fulfillment of a long held dream to educate children about the wonder of the arts,” Andrews said in announcing the show.

This show looks to be a mix of Mr. Rogers and The Muppets for me, and I find myself looking forward to it with the throwback glee of one who has longs for a simpler time. A time with puppets and singing. A time when naps would be followed by some graham crackers and milk, and for the love of Pete, also followed by a really early bedtime.

It seems I always want the wee ones to go to bed, don’t I?

Well, since this plan seems to be foiled on a nightly, late summer basis. So, here’s what Momsie will do – Culture ‘em up with a movie night!
So, I give you this gem, also on Netflix:

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Here is a chance for my kids to view a REAL play, like on a REAL stage. With REAL actors and even, dare I say it, a POINT to it. Also, it is adorable. And funny. And again, did I mention that it has an actual PLOT? You’d be surprised how much that helps the flow of things.

And there you have it. The theater, and adorableness, all in one package. Something both Momsie and the kids can watch. The next thing you know, my kids will be working on a rendition of Death of a Salesman for me. I did overhear Blonde tell Red, “I am an actor, yes, but really? I want to direct.” as he headed up to bed.
Thank you for the culture and the cuteness, Netflix!

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Clearly, I Have the Most Intelligent Children in the World.

It’s nearly MAY, my friends. This is crazy sauce.

School is out in a MONTH. Well, a month and a half, but I always round up to my advantage. Let’s just say I’m a bit excited. Like the time I found out Netflix had added Dirty Dancing to its streaming options, excited.

Like, Patrick Swayze, “The Time of My Life,” hip swivel, finger snapping, right down the middle aisle, kind of excited.

Anyhow.

Summer approacheth! We are going to: go to the pool, ride bikes, you know, all the typical summer things. Popsicles. Air conditioning. Mom swimsuits.  Embracing the cellulite. The perfume of chlorine and sunblock. I AM READY. NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER! Let’s do this!

My children, however, are torn. When I informed them both about summer’s quick approach, both were pretty stoked about the pool. But Red is kinda convinced his teacher will be there with him, poolside, doing projects with glitter and paint and other nuttiness. The other, Blonde, gets summer break and all. But also? He expects… projects. Crafts. He wants stimulating learning activities, my friends. He doesn’t call them that, of course, because that would be weird. He calls them: “Mommah, can we make a hydroplane? Like the kind that goes on the water? With glitter? And paint? And, we need to make sure its roomy enough for a pilot and one cat.”

Sure, honey, let me get right on that.

Let my clarify: my children are not weird. They just love homework all time. They live for tri-folded poster boards, people. They like charting things.

Ok, maybe they’re a little weird. But I prefer to refer to them as:

Ridiculously Smart. So Smart They Want to Chart How Many Poopies are in the Litter Box Today.

My house is covered in funnels, rubber bands, and strange bottles of murky liquid left in the sun that is a “Science Speariment.” We live in a gigantic Rube Goldberg creation, and I am forever dismantling “Da MOST important parts!” because, well the last one was utilizing the toilet flusher knob, and it was just kinda gross.

Something like, oh… THIS:

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If we’re going to survive the summer, I better up my game.

And by that I mean:

TELEVISION!!!!!!!

Once again, The Great Netflix has bestowed us with a show that we LOVE.

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I can’t really explain this show. It’s for smart people. You know, like my wonderful children. The show is a fast-paced, funny, often mesmerizing look at how our brain works.

I know, right? This stuff is so educational and fabulous I don’t know why I just don’t pull them out of school and make them watch this all day long.

Just KIDDING. Sort of.

 

So. To review, for those of you who have children who are not mensa bound: this show will still make you watch and then blink, and then tilt your head to the side, turn to your husband, and say, “What the WHAT??? Did you see THAT? This show is better than a gin martini!” (Disclaimer: Meaning, the show makes your brain all hummy and wonky. It literally “messes with your head.” But in a good, non-substance kind of way. You know that’s a post for another day.)

For those of you who have children painfully intelligent? They’ll watch it and then turn to you and say,

“Mommy, my synapses are firing all over da places now. And now I need some omega three foods to restore my DHA.”

“Well, here you go, dear. Here’s a salmon pop. But eat it outside; it smells like cat food.”

Thank you Netflix! You have saved my summer.

 

As a Netflix Streamteam blogger, Netflix asks me to watch their fabulousness and them chatter about it. It's a great gig.

As a Netflix Streamteam blogger, Netflix asks me to watch their fabulousness and them chatter about it. It’s a great gig.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And, I leave you with this. Because. It’s awesome. Embrace summer! It’s the Time of Your Life, so come in hot.