When Diva Gets Angry-- Really, Really Angry...

This morning started off relatively normal - I braided Kady's hair, flat-ironed Ab's, made sure everyone was medicated, brushed, shoed and backpacked. Cousin Courtney arrived with Tots One and Two, then came in with Nonner and sat down to visit for a few minutes as I sent the kids down to the end of the driveway to catch the bus. Kisses and hugs and calls to "Have a good day!" and then the house was free of kid-noise, other than the grunts and noises of the most precious two-month on the planet. We visited for awhile, then it was time for her to go. I hadn't realized how foggy it was until I saw Courtney driving down the driveway and saw her truck quickly almost disappear. I hate foggy mornings because I watch the kids until the bus comes and if I can't see them I worry. However, usually foggy mornings are quiet mornings and I could hear them.

Then, as I stood on the porch bouncing Nonner, I realized that the sounds I was hearing were bawls, squalls and general crying from my youngest child. Now, you've probably gleaned from previous posts that Kady is a drama queen deluxe. She cries at the drop of a hat and even though Tater has told her repeatedly that you're only alotted so many tears in your life and she really should save some for you know, like when her children are born and stuff like that, she still cries a lot. I immediately figured someone had hurt her overly-sensitive feelings or maybe she'd fallen and had hurt her knee. Then I heard someone holler "Biscuit!" and then my thoughts turned to cursing that puppy because evidently he had knocked her over, tried to eat her capris (because he is convinced that all pants are food) or had engaged her in a friendly game of before-school tug-o-backpack.

When my phone rang, I automatically knew it was Courtney and that she was going to tell me Kady needed a bandaid or that her pants were covered in muddy pawprints and could I run her down a clean pair? I mean, I knew that was it. Until her reply to my hello was, "Biscuit's been hit." All the times I had called him a stupid dog for chewing on everything from the lawnmower wires and flipflops to the kittens I immediately felt awful for doing. I asked, "...is he alive?" She confirmed that he was, but then quickly added, "The kids are really upset." I could hear the wailing and gnashing of teeth and was expecting someone to holler for sackcloth and ashes, so I said, "Just send them back up to the house. I'll just take them to school and I'll send Paul down to take care of the dog." I heard her telling the kids to head back to the house and then when they were out of earshot, between driveway and house, we talked. She said she'd tried to move him but he'd growled and she didn't want to get bit, something I totally didn't blame her for. But as the bus approached, he got up and walked out of the road. She waved the bus on and kept an eye on Biscuit while Paul put on clothes. By then the kids were up here and all five of them were crying, so I hung up the phone with her and proceeded to hug and soothe mine and Tater's kids.

The fact that Biscuit had moved himself out of the road was reassuring to me and I tried to pass that on to the kids. As soon as they saw my hope they instantly got angry, Abby especially. She's nearly 12 and virtually perpetually angry anyway, but oh man, was she mad this morning. Eventually, trying to filter five separate accounts of the accident, we gleaned that the car was a white hatchback and was driving very fast, so fast that Abby had made the kids move back as she saw it approaching and that while Biscuit had been in the road, he wasn't in the middle of the road, he had been sniffing something in the ditch. The car clipped him and threw him into the air. All while the kids watched. Then Ab added angrily, "And Mom, they didn't even hit the brakes! They just flew on by!"

Now, we live in the country and well, dogs get hit (Jude), meet their maker when they bite their owner (Max), get snakebit (Little Dog), run away to find a girlfriend because oops, we kind of forgot to get him neutered (Jake) and that's just a way of life. We aren't dog fanatics, but at the same time we are relatively responsible dog owners and even when they use kittens as chew toys (Biscuit), we still kind of like them. And the kids love them unconditionally, kitten chew toys aside. But the fact that some jerkface:

a) drove fast down my dirt road
b) drove fast down my dirt road on a foggy morning
c) drove fast down my dirt road on a foggy morning AT BUS TIME
d) did all of the above, hit our dog IN FRONT OF OUR CHILDREN and didn't even stop

...well......I'm angry. Really, really angry.

We have several notoriously fast-driving neighbors and one of those drives a white car. We don't particularly get along with these neighbors anyway, so Paul drove to her place of work and confronted her. Did I agree with this? No, not at all, but he's a big boy and I'm not the boss of him. Well, most of the time. Anyway, she denied hitting Biscuit, said she was clocked in by 7:30 and that she's an avid animal lover and would never do such a horrid thing. However, since Paul has connections at her place of work, he had a manager check the clock and she didn't clock in until 7:59. Now, whether it was her that hit Biscuit or not, we don't know, but rest assured that this evening we're all going on a little drive. I guarantee you that the kids will be able to pick the car right out of someone's driveway.

It's noon now and Biscuit has made the 1/10th of a mile trek from road to house. At first he wouldn't let either of us near him and crawled under the van to hide, but now he's up here on the porch. He's very shaky and extremely lethargic, but considering he's usually going 900mph running around us, chewing our pants and trying to lick our ears, I'm sure the contrast is more pronounced. I would imagine he's a little sore and frankly, probably feels like he's been hit by a car. I've been emailing Kady's teacher all morning with updates. Kady's been so upset she had to use her inhaler, which her asthma was already threatening to flare up anyway, but then add some doggie stress and well, it's no wonder. Bless her heart.

Ah, country living.

Random Thoughts on a Gustav-y Thursday

This is my first week as a stay-at-home mom again, just doin' my stay-at-home mom thing.

I am so happy.

Sam came in the kitchen the other night and said, "Mom! What's that smell??" I said, "I don't know, what do you smell?" He sniffed and said, "I'm not sure but I think it's FOOD. It's been awhile, but yeah, I think that's what it is."

He's so precious. Takes after his father, that boy.

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Okay, so I'm watching the Today show this morning when I hear that New Kids on the Block will be performing. So...I finish up my chores in the kitchen so I can be free to check this out. Now, I'm not a former NKotB fan like my little sister was (the girl literally wallpapered her room with posters from magazines - no kidding, ask my mom) but I'm still curious. Or at least, I was.

Don't get me wrong, the guys have talent. They can sing and they can dance. But they are trying way too hard to be a boy band. They aren't boys anymore - they're men. Plain and simple. They need to be dancing the foxtrot and wearing orthopedic shoes, for cryin' out loud! Not doing choreographed dances like other boy bands who are actually comprised of BOYS.

They seem to have a pretty rabid following once again, so I guess it's working for them, but to this 35 year old mom, it seems just kinda sad.

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I just baked banana bread.

Next I'm going to iron the curtains I just washed.

Hold me. I'm scaring myself.

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Does anyone know of any good websites for easy, family-friendly menus and recipes? I have a notoriously picky family who won't eat strange things like, oh.....anything with a vegetable in it or anything that a vegetable might've ever come in contact with. (Or anything that ends in a preposition.) And it 's not just my children - my husband is picky, too. It's frustrating as all get out.

Our usuals are: spaghetti, hamburgers, chicken in any form - nuggets, strips, fries, patties, pork chops, chili, hot dogs. They won't even eat soup. I heart soup! I love to make a big pot of soup or stew and eat it for every meal for several days. I also love meatloaf - they hate it. Chicken or beef and noodles? They refuse to even look at it. Okay, as if you needed any more evidence as to their weirdness - NOT ONE of my chidlren even likes mashed potatoes. Yeah.

So if you know of a good site with eatable food for picky families or if you personally have a proven recipe.....PLEASE SEND IT ALONG. You can comment or email me (theredneckdiva [at] gmail) and I will love you forever. I'll name a kitten after you or something.

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I used to watch Regis and Kathie Lee all the time, before Kelly Rippa came along and made it Regis and Kelly (duh), but Kathie Lee on Today....nope, not workin' for me.

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While the speech and the woman herself are inspiring, it's going to take more than a pit bull analogy to make me wear lipstick.

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We went through winter clothes last night to see what still fits or doesn't fit from last year. It was a toss-up as to which article caused the most laughter - the overalls that Ab put on that hit right about mid-shin or the pajama pants on Sam that uhm....defined a couple of things.

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I watch DIY Network all afternoon now that I'm home. Well, let me rephrase that - the TV is on DIY all afternoon, but I'm not glued to it or anything. You know, just in case Paul or one of his friends happen to read this post....

Anyway, I have decided that I am going to paint every inch of panelling in this house. The 70's are gone and so should be all the panelling.

Shalom.

It's been nice working here

It's nearly 11 am on Labor Day and I've eaten a waffle, loaded the dishwasher, started a load of laundry and read seven blogs. Now it's time to get down to business and post something. I'm sure Mrs. Coach is lying on her living room floor, curled up in the fetal position due to my lack of posting and for that I apologize, my friend. Let me make it up to you by taking you to the Elk's Lodge next weekend. Wear your pink dress.

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Last Monday I got to finally start teaching the Kindergarten class that had been left in my care. The first seven days had been spent controlling the crowd and crying, so imagine my delight at routine and schedule. You know the OCD in me requires it. Anyway, the morning had gone well and at lunch time I checked my phone to find two new voicemails and two missed calls from a number I didn't recognize. I listened to them, discovering my oldest daughter's voice telling me her coach had pulled her out of gym because her ankle was swollen and hurting and could she have some Motrin. I immediately called the school to tell the secretary that yes, Motrin was fine and had she seen the ankle and was it bad? She said, yeah, it looked bad.

Now, let me tattle on myself right here, right now: Abby twisted her ankle at church camp. Yes, the camp of churching that was held IN JUNE. She twisted it pretty bad and it swelled up like a poisoned pup, so we iced it, elevated it and heck, it was the day before we left camp, so I didn't take her to the nurse. It eventually got better and I kind of....you know....forgot about it.

After talking to the school secretary I called the PA's office to glean some advice because advice is all I wanted because it was just a swollen ankle, right? Wrong. I asked the nurse what I needed to do - elevate? heat? cold? Her answer: Make an appointment because it sounds broken. I made an appointment for early the next morning in hopes that my mom could take her, then called my mom to see if she could take her. Thankfully, she could.

I dropped Ab off at Mom's the next morning before school, with a note giving my mom permission to oversee the visit and any x-rays that might be needed. I called her at 10 on my first break to get the scoop. He had x-rayed it, manipulated it, poked on it, asked a boatload of questions and after seeing the x-ray declared it to be possibly broken, but he wanted the radiologist to look it over before he declared it so. He couldn't tell if he was seeing the growth plate or a fracture. He wrapped her ankle, wrote her a note to stay out of school the rest of day(partly to elevate the foot, partly because she was so upset she had given herself a raging case of diarrhea, bless her heart) and to stay out of PE until further notice, then said he'd call our house and leave a message after the radiologist gave the word, probably on Thursday.

I spent the rest of the day kicking myself in the gut for having let my daughter walk around on a possibly broken foot for oh, let's see....TWO MONTHS. I am going to have to build a display case for all of my Mother of the Year awards.

Turns out, the phone call on Thursday informed me that Abby only had a severe sprain. Never though I'd be relieved to hear she'd only severely sprained her foot. She sprained it at camp and then re-sprained it doing the stair climber in gym. She has to keep it wrapped until it quits hurting and keep it wrapped in gym forever, as far as I'm concerned. The coach has already given her a hard time over it (and not in a good-natured kind of way) and she had to stand her ground and respectfully tell him to call her daddy if he didn't believe her. Funny, he quit bugging her. Daddies rock.

So to recap - send my Mother of the Year award to my home address, please. Thank you very much.

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Turns out, I didn't loathe Kindergarten as much when the classroom size was down to a more manageable number and I could actually, you know, teach them things. I still didn't like it, but it got to where I didn't cry every day, so that was progress.

There are three little boys in that class that are what I would consider out-of-the-ordinary behavior problems. Two of those boys hate each other guts, which only adds to the problem what with the biting and the gut-punching they inflict upon each other. Cousin Courtney is going to take that class over, get through to those three boys and manage just fine because she has a gift, a blessing, a desire to teach Kindergarten, but to me they were boils on my backside. The longer I was in the room the more I figured out about them and if I had like, ya know, training and education and whatnot, I could've handled them better, but most of the time I just ignored the minor stuff and didn't react until they threatened harm to themselves or others. Hey, give me a break before you judge me.

And I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God loves me because the worst one was absent on Friday. I at least ended the week without raising my voice, crying or sending someone to the office.

In a nutshell - I'm glad it's over.

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Friday night we went to TotTwo's first football game.

Man, I'm glad my boy plays basketball. I'm a nervous wreck the entire time my nephew is out there getting dogpiled.

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Saturday night the kids and I went to a family reunion with Mom and Pops. It's Pops' kids' family, so I pretty much knew Mom, Pops, my sister, my stepsisters and one aunt. But it was a nice, relaxing break. Sunday was a continuation of the reunion and Paul went with us this time. When we got home we all had to strip in the foyer, throw our tick-infested clothes directly into the washer and then de-bug our bodies. Apparently, our son is a tick magnet - we found more on him than anyone. Bleh. One is too many to find on any body.

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I am so glad that y'all hung around during these two weeks of no posting and dead air space. Y'all are the most understanding readers ever. Thanks. Again.

Tater's main squeeze is out of town for the next week and she SWEARS we're going to "yakketyblog" as she calls it. I won't hold my breath and neither should you because she's promised yakketyblogging with me before and it's never come to fruition. BUT if it happens, won't we all be pleasantly surprised.

Paul says I'm going to be a lady of leisure now that I'm staying at home again, but he obviously forgets that two month old babies require a lot of rocking and snuggling. Kiki is in the house once more. Huzzah.

Survivor

Kindergarten is over.

I am alive.

Yay.

Will post tomorrow.

Now, I must sleep.

A lot.

SSIS*

(* So Sorry It's Sunday)


Friday after I took my class to Music, I walked back into the classroom to find a carseat on one of the tables. It was one of those instances where you see it, but you don't really realize you see it, but you know something's out of place. Then I heard a voice from behind the desk say, "I brought you sweet tea. Nectar of the gods!" Cousin Courtney was sitting there waving a Sonic sweet tea in the air. After I GermX'd and took a slug off of it, I got Nonner from his carseat and spent the next 15 minutes just loving on that baby. Snuggling him and the sweet tea was just what I needed to make it through the rest of the day.

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Friday after school my mom called to tell me she had fixed a skirt of Ab's and a pair of shorts of Sam's and they were by the front door with a gift bag and that I needed to run by the house and grab them before I left town. The only thing I wanted to do was GO HOME and get AS FAR AWAY from that school building as I possibly could, but I figured, heck it was only a few blocks out of the way. I'm so glad I did. On the gift bag was an envelope that said TGIF. Oh heck yes, TGIF. Inside the card were words that made me cry. Inside the bag were two new pairs of earrings. I love my momma.

Of course, she always knows what to say. I sat in her driveway and cried for a few minutes before I got myself together and drove on home. Basically she said she admired my willingness to tackle new things (tackling them feebly, I feel) and that whether I realized it or not, I had impacted 30 little lives (some I want to impact more than others - by sending them to Timbuktu).

I have come to the realization that it's not the fact that there are 20 children in the classroom looking to me for direction that I hate so much. It's those two little boys who are so very, very lacking in something and so desperately in need of something that are weighing on my soul. If I deal with either of them one on one, they are sweet. They are both smart and capable of learning, but they both have some major baggage. If only the world were different..... this is exactly how I felt at DHS. There are things that need to be done, but I don't have the capabilities to put a gigantic band-aid on their little lives and make it all better.

However, I did find that hugs speak VOLUMES to those two boys. Of course, they speak to the rest of the class as well, so Friday I did a lot of hugging. Hugs from Kindergarteners are balm for the soul. Even if they do smell like poop.

And Cousin Courtney assures me that when that one little boy is under the table it's far better than him being ON the table, jumping off and he can hear me just as well under, so let him stay. She's all about flexibility and obviously I need to be as well. I heart her. I admire her. I know she can handle this class exactly the way they need to be handled and she's going to do great. As usual.

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Kady finally likes first grade.

I'm so glad. The thought of homeschooling kind of makes me nauseous right now.

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Thursday Abby and Paul both stayed home from work and school before they were both sick with the stomach bug. It was that morning that I went in to the principal and found out the process for calling in. I knew I was next to fall. Sam came home early last Monday, KD went to bed one night with a horrible tummy ache and Paul and Abby were spewing as well. It's only natural that I, Weak Immunity Girl, would be next.

Thursday I sent a boy home after he complained of a bellyache. I wasn't taking any chances. Right after that I had a talk with the whole class about throwing up and the proper place to do it. Ugh.

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Yesterday, after sleeping till 10, I tackled the mountain of laundry piled in my utility room. And the kids and I had a movie-fest, watching such classics as Save the Last Dance and That Thing You Do! Both are favorites of mine and they both make me happy. I needed a day of happy, even if it was speckled with laundry throughout.

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Last night the whole Hoover clan loaded up and headed for the county fair (anyone else humming that old Chris LeDoux song?) Actually we stopped at Sonic first for burgers, then the ATM for some cash and THEN we headed for the fairgrounds. We got there about 15 minutes before the DEMOLITION DERBY started and let me tell you, I was probably more excited than anyone else in those grandstands. I love a good derby.

(For those of you who are new to the place, I drove in one four years ago. I had a purple car with a garden gnome painted on the hood. It was also covered in flowers, bees and butterflies. It was one of the best nights of my life. Seriously. You know, after birthing my babies and getting married and all that....)

There were some awesome crashes and KD and Sam both declared that when they're old enough they're driving in one. (I really thought Ab would be all over it, too, but ya know, being nearly 12 and all, she's SO above the rest of us right now.) Of course, we'll let them. Hey, if Momma drives in one, she kind of sets a precedence. Paul and I both declared that we're going to start saving now so we can both drive next year. We've said that before, so we'll see. Seems like those pesky like bills and groceries get in the way of buying and working on derby cars.

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On the way home from the fairgrounds last night I suddenly got nauseous and dizzy and those are the symptoms of this bug going around. I also broke out in a sweat. I figured that I was a goner. I got my pj's on as soon as we got home and after I tucked my tired, sweaty, dusty kids in I collapsed onto my bed to watch Family Guy and writhe in anguish. Instead I fell asleep.

If nothing else, maybe I can just sleep off any virus that threatens to invade. As much as I'd like to not go to school this week, I really hate to puke.

And I cried

By the time yesterday rolled around I had 30 kids in my classroom. Yes, you read that right - 30. Thir-tee. We had kids all but spilling out of the windows. The tables were chock full of kids, shoulder to shoulder, and oh yes, the poop smell was even more concentrated than before.

But Teacher Next Door assured me that when the new classroom opened, things would be better. Even Cousin Courtney, whose class this actually is, assured me that all would be well (Because I call her every night after school). I had high hopes.

Oh, but they underestimated the power of Kindergarten. They are veteran teachers and I highly value their opinions, but I don't think this is your average class and therefore all assumptions and previous experience is null and void. Seriously. Or maybe I'm just a weenie.

Today it was like someone took the children, turned them feral, gave them meth and put ants in their pants. And then told them to make me cry.

'Cause they did.

I have sent them off to PE or Music at the same time every day for five days now and they've always done great. Teachers they meet along the way praise them for being so quiet and well-behaved, but today as I started the line they took off running like someone had lit their hineys on fire. By the time I caught up with them my blood was boiling and another teacher had to come help me get them all together again because I was just about to lose it all over the place. My shoulders had to be slumped as I trudged back to the classroom for 25 minutes of quiet.

I opened the door to the classroom to find Teacher Next Door, Cousin Courtney (with Nonner!) and Mrs. Coumadin waiting for me. You know how when you're not feeling well and your mom calls to check on you and you bust into tears because she's your momma and all? Well, Courtney asked if today had been better and that's when I called those children a bad name and started crying. And while it felt good to say a long-lost cuss word, it just made me cry harder knowing that I had just cussed. And had said it about a classroom full of four and five years olds at that!

Before I started this whole substituting adventure, Cousin Courtney told me that I would either come away from it loving teaching Kindergarten or hating it. I honestly thought she was overexaggerating by a long shot. Turns out, she was SO right. And turns out, I HATE IT. There is no middle ground. Middle ground is a farce. There is only insanity (loving it) or a headache and tears (hating it).

I cried for awhile in front of two relative strangers who looked somewhat uncomfortable and they all reassured me that it was normal that they kids acted like this because we had just taken ten of their friends out of the classroom, sent them across the hall and then I actually tried to, you know, TEACH THEM. It was so far out of the norm for them they didn't know how to handle it all. Big babies.

So after I dried up the tears and snuggled Nonner for a few minutes (oh my gosh, that child smells like Heaven) (Viva la Baby Magic!) I felt a little better, but ya know, my psyche was bruised, my self-esteem was shot and frankly, I was just in need of a nap and make a blankie. Maybe a teddy bear or 16, too.

The afternoon was a smidge better, but not much. Never in my life did I dream that 20 would be worse than 30. Never.

Paul and Abby stayed home from work and school today because they both have the stomach virus that is blazing a trail through the county. All I can do now is pray for diarrhea, dehydration and a hospital stay we can't afford. Go virus!

Smells like poop

Keep your mouth turned off and raise your hand if you thought that Mrs. Hoover was eaten alive by 28 adorable Kindergarteners and that's why she didn't post all weekend. Oh, no....keep your mouth turned off and just raise your hand, please. Thank you. Good job, boys and girls!

Amazing how two days of Kindergarten has turned me into a soft-speaking, question-asking, insane person who only wants you to make the right choice and therefore receive only the best consequences for your decisions. And keep your mouth quiet when we're on the rug doing calendar, dadgummit.

And I was so very tempted to tell the youth in Sunday School this morning to give themselves a hug when they were going to class.

Oy vey.

Right now, right here, I salute you, teachers. I don't know how you people DO that for a living! Don't get me wrong, I'm not utterly miserable, but at the same time I don't get any great satisfaction or gratification from it, nor do I feel like my life will be complete if I make it my career choice. (Sorry, Mom.) (She was really hoping this would be a turning-point for me.)

There were 27 on the class list as of Wednesday evening during Open House. Thursday morning one boy didn't show, but mid-morning I got two to replace him. I wasn't aware of a two-for-one deal, but evidently there was. Coumadin Man's darling wife, Mrs. Coumadin, was a lifesaver, as well as dear old Mrs. Retired Teacher, who were both full-time aides in the class with me for those harrowing first two days. With 28 four, five and six-year olds you can't do much more than crowd control and prayer. Lots of prayer.

By tomorrow there is supposed to be another classroom open and 8 of my little darlings are going adios, kinders. That will bring me down to a much less scary and hopefully more manageable 20 precious angels, some of whom have springs in their buttocks and cannot stay in a seat to save their lives.

I made the mistake of wearing my brown sandals on Thursday. Now, these brown sandals are oh-so-cute and I have had them for probably five years now, but in addition to being cute, these sandals are insanely heavy. If I were a conspiracy theorist I'd think someone had hidden gold doubloons in the soles or something. Or maybe they are secret transmitters for the CIA. Who knows. Those suckers are heavy, regardless. I didn't realize how badly my legs hurt until I got in my car to go home. After I turned the car off in the driveway I just sat for awhile because I just wasn't sure I had the ability to move any further. I made it into the house finally and began stripping off clothing (bra was right after those blasted sandals), poured myself a gigantic glass of iced tea and busied myself with my kids and Tater's tots, making sure I didn't sit down again.

By the time Tater picked up her tots I was feeling it, but trudge onward I did. I fixed dinner, cleaned it up, started the dishwasher, herded my children to the showers, read a chapter of Harry Potter to Sam and a couple of books to KD, filled out all of the forms needed for my oldest to attend Middle School, wrote down a list of the supplies she still needed, took off my makeup, tucked in my kids and collapsed into my bed before 9.

Paul came through and tossed his pillow at me. I wearily pulled the pillow off my face and said, "Honey, you do realize that we are not doing it tonight. Right?" (as if pillow-throwing was our secret sign for nookie or something) He kissed me on the forehead and said, "It's pretty bad when 28 five year olds wear you out and I don't even get a chance." Then he went to watch the Olympics, horny and alone. Bless his heart.

Friday was better because I wore the ever-so-cute J. Crew flipflops that Lori gave me during our MOM'S GETAWAY WEEKEND. Ohmahgosh, those flipflops are like walking on marshmallows. I'm seriously thinking about wearing them with socks this winter. Okay, no I'm not really, but they are amazingly comfortable. The day flew by much faster and while the springy-bottomed children were still Tiggerific, my feet felt better, therefore I handled the springiness better. Mrs. Retired Teacher insisted I leave the classroom with her and Mrs. Coumadin for a break mid-morning since I didn't leave it the day before, except to run to the restroom once. I am not a joiner, y'all know that, so I didn't stay long, but at least I mingled for a few minutes.

One revelation that did come to me mid-day on Friday was that Kindergarten smells like poop. I have three children and ya know, I don't recall them ever smelling perpetually of poopiness, but these kids do. They just tootie at will all over the place! I heard 'em do it! What the heck? Do they all eat beans for dinner? And breakfast? It boggles the mind. All I can figure is that is a concentration of poopiness that makes it so pronounced.

I called Cousin Courtney after school on Friday for some tips, hints and pointers about transitioning because these kids just fall the heck apart when we go from one activity to another. She gave me some ideas and bolstered my confidence once more and then I promptly put Kindergarten out of my mind so I could begin to enjoy my weekend.

Yesterday I enjoyed it so much I stayed in my pajamas all day. In fact, when Sam and I were chatting last night around 11, I was still in the previous night's pajamas. Please don't think less of me - I'm normally a prompt bather. I just didn't have any energy in me yesterday. The kids and I laid around and watched TV, played on the computer and napped throughout the day. My Sam had been sick the night before, up all night with the puking, so we wouldn't have accomplished much anyway.

Today was church. We were going to go fishing with one of my step-sisters, but Paul fell asleep in his recliner after lunch and wouldn't wake up (selective wakening, methinks) so the kids rested and I napped yet again. We turned our air conditioner off last week when the temps were down in the 70's and we just hate to turn it back on again even though it's 90 again, so needless to say, the house is hot. You don't want to exert too much energy anyway. It's almost like we've gone green with all the energy we're not using around here.

I'm excited about this week, though. Since the class will be smaller I will actually get to teach! I know, who knew such things went on at school? Last week, the lesson plans were modified because the other Kindergarten teacher had 28 as well and really, nothing could've been accomplished anyway. But with 20 tomorrow we will get to do phonics and math and all sorts of other teach-y, school-y things.

Now, give yourself a pat on the back and find your chair without touching your neighbor.

Say what?

I apologize for the lack of posting. I didn't realize it had been so long until after I sent a tweet telling of my ironing euphoria today I got a text from Mrs. Coach today telling me to "quit ironing.....starting blogging." Then I said I was going to post after I finished my ironing. But then I watched my soap I kind of uhm....fell asleep. Hey, it was my only day with no one in the house and it was quiet.....so very, very quiet....

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Last night was Open House at the kids' school. We stopped at Kady's room first to meet "Mrs. Glass Cow" who is actually Mrs. Glass-go, but try telling that to a phoentic 6 year old. She read it Glass-gow and it went from there.

Kady, who had been talking 400 miles a minute prior to entering the classroom, was suddenly struck mute the minute she saw the room. She couldn't bring herself to introduce herself to one new friend like the scavenger hunt said, so she just stood there while I made her mouth move and said, "Hi, my name's Kady and I feel awful silly with my mom doing this to my face." It made the kid she was introducing to laugh, but embarrassed her all to heck.

Next stop was Sam's room where we met Ms. Spencer. Abby had Mr. Dude in 4th grade so I have little experience with Ms. Spencer, but she seems great and Sam adores her already. She's heavy on science and that is right up his alley since he wants to be an astronaut (today, anyway).

After that we went to the MIDDLE SCHOOL to put Ab's locker shelf, mirror, numerous pictures of the dog, cats and siblings in her locker. Then we went to her classrooms. Her English/Reading teacher is one of the church ladies that does concessions for the auction company Mom works for, so we already knew her. Next was the science teacher who scored major points with Paul when we noticed the deer head mounted on the wall. The men stood and talked hunting for awhile and Paul walked out with a new guy crush, I think. Then it was on to social studies and it was there that I left with a girl crush because I REALLY like that woman. Finally it was math. Is it wrong that I almost had a panic attack upon entering the math room and I don't even go to school anymore? I guess math anxiety never goes away.

Abby chewed off all of her fingernails as we made the tour and looked so dang scared that I was tempted to just declare that all of my children were going to be homeschooled from 6th grade on.

Paul floated out of the school all but declaring his love for that science teacher.

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This morning we managed to get up, around, fed, primped, photographed and out the door by 7:10. The bus finally rolled up at 7:35 and I sent my babies on their way while I went back inside to send an email and slip on my shoes. I went to the school to take pictures of Kady and Sam and found Kady still in the cafeteria talking up a storm to a girl that she didn't know. I snapped a picture of her just as the first bell rang, gave her a quick hug and hurried over to the other building to snap a picture of Sam, who was sitting at a table with all girls. He was in heaven. That boy of mine is quite a playah. I wanted so badly to go across the street to the MIDDLE SCHOOL (yes, I will probably always refer to it in all caps), but I resisted that urge and walked to my van fighting tears.

Back here at home I replied to the email sent earlier, got my purse and headed to town to mail our audition tape to the production company, came back home and turned on the TV to Food Network, started some laundry and then started ironing. I now have the first seven days of school's outfits ironed and hanging in my closet. With any luck we'll be raptured before that second week.

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As we were visiting first grade last night we saw Mrs. Weece across the hall. She asked if I was ready for Kindergarten and I said, "Yeah, I think so!" She then asked if I knew how many kids I was going to have. I said, "Yeah, Courtney said about 19 or 20." She pressed her lips together and did a polite "mmhmm" and I knew that was not a good sign. I said, "Okay, what do you know that I don't?" She replied, "I'm not at liberty to say...."

I could not wait to get in the van to call Courtney. I asked her how many kids I was supposed to have and that I knew something was up and she said, "Oh. Okay. Uhm. You still love me, right?"

There are 27 children in my classroom.

The other Kindergarten teacher has 28.

Thankfully, the school knows that this is not a good thing and is in the process of setting up another classroom and hiring another teacher, but the earliest that could happen would be Monday. These first two days are going to be nothing more than crowd control. Courtney has no expectations for me and for that I am so very thankful.

I went to Open House tonight and met 18 of the kids. I'm nervous, but the absolute, sheer, all-consuming panic is gone now. I think the exhaustion is masking the anxiety now. I have oodles of people praying for me tomorrow and if you'd like to join in the party, feel free. I can use all the help I can get.

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I have found that over the course of my parenting career I have said things I never thought I would say. Things like, "Don't paint the cat" and "Your sister is NOT a trampoline!" and various other odd things.

But tonight I asked the question, "Honey, why do you have Dove chocolate in your underwear?"

This question came after Kady came flying into the church kitchen with a look of horror/ confusion/panic/terror and sheet unadulterated FREAKOUT on her face. She threw her arms around me and said, "MOMMA, TAKE ME HOME NOW!!" I said, "Kady, honey, what's wrong?" expecting a scraped knee or some other injury. I never expected my youngest child to pull the waistband of her skirt out and show me a big smeary heap of chocolate in her underpants.

My initial thought was, "Ohmygosh, diarrhea" and the thought following that was, "If it's all the way up front, how bad does the back look?" But she allayed my poopy fears when she bawled, "It's Dove chocwet! Pops gave me a Dove chocwet and I didn't have any pockets!"

Ah. Motherhood.

Squeak squeaker squeak squeaken

This last week I've had Tater's tots and two days I had my Cousin Courtney's new! precious! baby (whom we lovingly call "Nonner"), so do I really need to say what kind of condition my house was in by week's end? Nah. Didn't think so.

Today we cleaned house. My family hates me. The kids have threatened to run away and Paul hadn't been home 20 minutes before he said he wished he'd stayed at work. Oh well. I am going to be working for the next 2 1/2 weeks, working an exhausting job and frankly, I'm out of practice with the whole working thing. I knew I had to get it in order before Thursday when I start working because I go right from subbing Kindergarten straight into babysitting Nonner for the rest of forever. Or at least until he goes to Kindergarten himself.

Yes, that's right. I've given up the glamorous life of gonna-be-a-substitute teacher to the heavenly life of staying home and babysitting. Be it known, I have no intentions of starting up Diva Daycare like I did before because frankly, that was insane, for one thing, my husband threatened me within an inch of my life, and for another, I don't want to. Babysitting one child still leaves me open to go to my kids' school when I need to, leaves me open to going to Walmart or wherever else I need to go during the day and also leaves me here. Where I want to be. Here. As in, IN MY HOME.

I am happy.

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Yesterday morning we went down to the school to get Ab's schedule and let her run through it.

Glory be, she has a top locker. She had already planned on pouting long and hard if she, one of the tallest in her class, had a bottom locker. She has one class in the Sr. High and it's first hour so she gets it out of the way right off the bat. The rest of the day she's in the very small, very tiny, very compact Middle School. Yay.

We bought her a shelf and mirror for her locker and we're still on the lookout for some skulls to decorate it. When she opened it and saw that last year's occupant had a rather rabid affection for pastel flowers, she turned to me and said, "Oh yeah. Those are SO going. Every one of those nasty girly things are going bye-bye."

I love that kid.

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Yesterday I dropped KD and Sam off with their daddy at the casino when he got off work and Abby and I headed to Joplin to do her school clothes shopping.

We had a great time and twice - TWICE! - she slipped her hand in mine as we were walking down the mall. I will totally cherish those two moments forever because she's growing up. Fast. Next year I may be lucky to get to walk within 50 feet of her down the mall.

She is a crazy bargain shopper. I feel like The Force is strong with that one for sure. That kid knows how to spot a clearance rack from 500yds out. I swear she can smell a sale. She had her heart set on some "boots with the fur" (and yes, she actually calls them that, which is hilarious) and found a pair, but they were about a half-size too small. Bless her heart, I thought she was gonna cry. I keep telling her that it's not like it's going to snow any time soon, but she's talked about those boots all day long with a wistful look in her eyes.

We ate at Garfield's and my formerly picky daughter ordered a steak. After about the second bite she sighed contentedly and said, "Mom, no offense, but this is better than even your steak. I think I have found a new favorite place to eat."

So long, Olive Garden!

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Phone interviewed with production company this past week.

Asked to make an audition tape.

Making audition tape tomorrow.

Priority overnighting said tape first of the week.

Fingers already crossed.

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My family just put in The Princess Bride and I hope they forgive me enough to let me sit in the same room with them while we watch it.

And this is where she breathes a contented sigh of contentedness (Oh yeah, it's also the 1000th post)

Okay, so yeah, I said that the 1000th post would include a podcast, but ya know...I'm a big fat liar. Y'all should know that by now. Quit expecting so much from me!

So Lori and I took off for Shawnee yesterday afternoon, she from Texas and me from NE Oklahoma. I drove Pops' Prius hybrid and oh my GOSH it's like driving a TOY! It's a wonder I didn't have a wreck because I was so enamored by the computer screen which showed my wheels a-spinnin' and whether I was using the cute little electric battery or the engine. I used a whole 5 gallons of gas down here. I am going to seriously look into buying one of those suckers.

It was roughly 500 degrees when we got here, so we chilled out in the room for awhile (La Quinta. Spanish for "It's hotter'n heck outside.") and around 7 headed out for dinner at Chili's. I was a Chili's virgin until last night. After food and conversation we went directly to check out the local Dollar Tree which was two minutes shy of closing. We made sure we remembered where it was and then headed to the Sac and Fox casino. I swear to you, I thought Lori was gonna need smelling salts before we got all the way in. I guess those Texas indians don't know how to casino like we Oklahoma indians do. We played a little, but we were both road weary and headed back to the room. (La Quinta. Spanish for "OMG there are no husbands or kids here!")

We watched Sleepless in Seattle and talked and laughed and shared pictures of the kids. There was no conquering of the world because we both literally just decompressed and took advantage of not having to take care of anyone, break up any fights, or do anything remotely motherly. Before we knew it, it was 3am and while there was still conversation in us both, our eyes would no longer focus and we crashed.

That 8am alarm went off so we could wake up our husbands and then? Then we laid around the motel room until 4 this afternoon. I KNOW! We watched True Lies and Without a Paddle and again, did the chatting and laughing and the sharing of kid pictures and family stories and wow....that was just nice.

When we finally emerged from the Bat Cave this afternoon (La Quinta. Spanish for "Bat Cave.")we headed STRAIGHT for the Dollar Tree. Omg, the Dollar Tree here has a COOLER. Like, to hold cool things! We have so got to get one of those in Miami! After that we drove around.......and around........and around......looking for some place to eat. We kind of wanted Mexican, but the places looked kind of dive-y and and we weren't sure we wanted to go out on a limb that far away from home. We settled on Cracker Barrel then found our way to the Fire Lake Grand casino where I proceded to lose my hiney and she didn't. But I still love her.

We stopped at Sonic on the way back to the motel (La Quinta. Spanish for "Wow. 3am was a bad choice of a bedtime.") for ice cream and sweet tea and now we are watching Van Wilder somethingsomethingblahblahblah. We're both really missing our husbands and kids and decided that if we weren't so dang tired we'd leave for home tonight. Sissies, we are. However, we've decided that it won't be too long before we drag our husbands to Norman (closer to halfway AND yes, there's another big casino, we think) for a couple's weekend. Yay!

So while I disappointed y'all with the lack of podcast, please know that my mental state of mind is much more centered and calm. Sometimes it just takes a short vacation to get you back on track.

But here's what I'd like from you. Please, please, PLEASE come out of the woodwork and comment to this, my 1000th post. Tell me your favorite thing about my blog (yeah, I am gratuitously asking you to stroke my ego), how long you've been reading me, how you found me, heck, tell me anything. Anything!

And really.....thank you so much for making these last four years, these last 1000 posts incredibly awesome. I appreciate every time you visit and you make me insanely happy when you comment or when you spot me in Walmart* (Yes, Sixty, I am aware of the new logo and no, I'm not happy about it. Why do things have to change??? WHY?) and I immensely enjoy it when you freak my mother out by saying how much you love my blog.

I love you all. Seriously.

Tired, excited and perpertually red in the neck

Yesterday I met Cousin Courtney at her classroom so she could scare the bejeebies outta me show me around, familiarize me with her lessons plans (which are absolutely amazing, by the way) and give me a crash course in being a Kindergarten teacher. I felt completely overwhelmed at first, but the more we went over things the more relaxed I got. I realized that uhm, they are five year olds and Kindergarten is not an exact science. Therefore, I am going to have fun, follow the lesson plans to the best of my ability and pray daily that I don't get headlice.

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A few years ago, out of the blue, I was contacted by a producer from ABC's Wife Swap, asking if we'd be interested in applying for the show. Of course, we were interested because uhm....well, duh, it's TV and well, yeah, it's TV.

My mom was ultimately relieved, yet somewhat skeptical that we were found to be not trashy enough nor normal enough for the show. You can't be middle-of-the-road for that show.

Wednesday I got an email from a different network, again informing us of casting for a show. I ran it past family members and got the go-ahead (it will involve not just my immediate rednecks, but the entire clan of us) so the email has been replied to, pictures have been sent and now we wait.

Who'da thunk that being a redneck would spawn so many TV opportunities?

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Last night I was one of THOSE parents and took my kids to Wal*Mart around 9:30. We left after 11. Best trip to Wal*Mart in a long time - because they were exhausted and didn't have it in them to fuss with each other. They were too tired to even whine, bless their hearts.

Ab has had her heart set on some strapless glittery black heels for awhile now. She almost got them a few weeks ago, but was mean and nasty to her brother before we left the store and her daddy made her put them back. She's done some semi-babysitting for me this week, so I gave her $15 and she made a beeline for those shoes. Thankfully I made her walk down the aisle and back for me! As my Papa used to say, she walked like a frozen-toed chicken. Bless her heart. I don't think heels are in her near future, no matter how much she wants them to be.

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Tomorrow is the day. MOM'S GETAWAY WEEKEND WITH LORI!!!!!!!!! This being my 999th post, guess what that means?? It's means PODCAST FOR THE 1000TH POST!

You are so welcome.

We'll record it some time tomorrow night or early Saturday and get it posted as soon as I get it converted and ready to go. Keep checking back! Since this is the 999th post, there will be no more posts until the podcast is ready. Be strong, little ones. I shan't be gone long.

Shawnee, OK, get ready. Invasion of the stay-at-home blogger mommies is about to commence. Okay, well, invasion by two of us, anyway.

It's coming

The end of summer is nearly here. Not summer the season, but summer as in no school, sleeping till 9, staying up till 2, spending a lot of time in our pajamas and doing a whole lot of nothing.

The kids start school three weeks from tomorrow. YIKES! I start school the day after that. Double yikes!

Actually, I'm getting very excited. The initial freak-out is over and I'm really looking forward to it. Cousin Courtney says this stint in Kindergarten will do one of two things: make me immediately enroll in school to become a teacher or will make me never want to step foot in a classroom again. I'm hoping for a happy medium. I have no desire to go to school, but I want to continue subbing. We'll see. She also warned me that the first few weeks of school, she usually goes to bed at 4pm because it's just that exhausting. I'm not sure how Paul is going to feel about it, but hey, I'm considering going to bed that early just because I've already told him it's a possibility and why miss out on an opportunity? Ya know?

Right now there are two extra kids in my house and possibly one more will be here before the night's over. KD and Sam each have a friend here and Ab's waiting for her cousin to call her back. I've been promising them all summer we'd have a big sleepover and woops, now it's three weeks till school starts and well, we're trying to cram in as much fun as we can before it's all over. We're trying to also throw in some camping in Kansas where they have a real live sand beach which thrills my kids to no end. It's a neat campground and we haven't been in a long time. Of course, my aversion to water keeps us from taking too many water excursions.

I was also hoping for one more trip to Branson before school starts, but I just don't think that's going to happen. This weekend is my MOM'S GETAWAY WEEKEND with Lori (posts, podcasts and merriment!) and the next weekend is when we're hoping to camp and boom, school's here. I keep telling myself it's too hot for Silver Dollar City anyway.

Tomorrow is my little sister Tater's birthday. Even though she doesn't update her blog as much as the entire universe would like her to, please visit it anyway and leave a comment on her most recent post (which occured sometime around the fall of the Soviet Union) and wish her a HAPPY 32ND BIRTHDAY, will ya?

The incredible shrinking blog

I posted here and said it was my 997th post. Then I posted here and it was my 998th post. Are y'all thinkin' that I should've stayed in college and that I really am that pitiful when it comes to math? Here, let me play with your brain some more - this is my 995th post. It would appear my blog is shrinking.

*sigh* If only my butt would do that.

Well, I will dispell this mystery once and for all, before all of my blogfriends plan a math intervention and I end up on a bad cable series.

I have deleted a few posts. And more importantly, I am painstakingly and quite thoroughly going through my blog a post at a time and removing all of the dirty words. And? And I don't even cuss in real life anymore.

What? Was that a collective gasp from the innernets? I believe it was, which is the same kind of gasp I heard when I told Mom, Pops, Tater and yeah, I think even Lori gasped. (If she gasped, it was a twangy, drawled gasp and cuter'n all get out.) (I cannot WAIT to do a podcast with that woman.)

Now, let me clear up a few things. I am still the one, the only Redneck Diva. I am still sometimes immature, sometimes rude, most of the time incredibly cute and always, always a redneck and a diva. I still have moments where I say entirely inappropriate things and I still giggle when someone says "duty" , but I am a changed woman, people. I have been incredibly convicted about my filthy mouth. Even chewing that gum didn't help. I am not perfect and have no agenda to become that way. I don't think I'm better than anyone else and I still read blogs that have cussin' in them. I make it a firm personal policy to not judge people. Ever. Jesus didn't judge me and I have no right to do it either.

.... But I can't ignore a conviction that I feel comes from God. I am living my life closer to Him than I have in a long, long time. I am trying to be a better wife, I am trying to be a better mother, I am trying to be the example that I should've been all along. I am involved in my church and occasionally work with the youth. It's time to walk the walk and talk the talk and the talking doesn't include the f-word. For me.

My kids watch me like a hawk, even if I feel like they never listen to a word I say. Yesterday when I got stung, I didn't cuss. Abby noticed that. Later that night he even commented on it. That right there was all the confirmation I needed to know that I am doing what is right for me and my family.

I am not changing the format of this blog. It's still about my redneck life and the occasional possums we experience on our vast 40 acres of Oklahoma wilderness. It's still going to contain stories about my kids and the insanely funny things they say and do. It will still contain in-depth accounts of trips to Wal*Mart and school parties. I will still gripe about my kids, gripe about my husband and gripe about the size of my rear end. I will still make you feel better about the fact that you aren't a redneck. But if I feel led to write a post about my God and what He's doing in my life I'm going to write it. I won't apologize for that. Ever.

It's a long process and it's going to take awhile. If I run across any more posts that are just impossible to edit, I'll delete them. The blog may get smaller before it's all said and done. It won't disappear, though. I'm sure of that. Just like I'm sure my butt won't disappear either.

Photos!

I offered you pictures of my new! not-so-improved! Beagle/Cocker Spaniel for my 1000th post, but instead you are getting them for my 998th post. Because I also have other pictures and heck, I haven't done a photoblog in a lonnnnnng time. And I have nothing else to offer you. Why do I have nothing to offer? Because I had a bad headache yesterday and did nothing more than sit on my couch and hurt. When you do nothing more than SIT you have very little to report.


Ab took these pics of Biscuit about a month ago.

Is he not adorable? No, he's not. Trust me. Oh, he's adorable if you think chewing is adorable. So yeah, if you think chewing is cute then you will LOVE my dog.










Okay, so even I have to admit that this one is just precious. He looks so innocent....

Looks are SO deceiving.








This is Biscuit today. He's long and chewy. I don't mean chewy like caramel or nougat. I mean like HE CHEWS ON EVERYTHING.

I don't know if I have communicated effectively the amount of chewing this dog does.

Those toes? Those are mine. He thinks they are food. Or toys. And capris are an open invitation to EAT MY PANTS. I had to quit going outside in pajama pants because he kept stretching out the legs when he would grab a mouthful of cotton and RUN far and fast with my drawers in his mouth. Agh. The vet says he will chew for a year. I will be toeless by then. And pantsless.


Yep. He's chewing. On Kady this time.

And I failed to mention that what he doesn't eat while he's chewing HE BURIES. Somewhere on the property he has buried his white chew bear (heck, why chew on something that's meant to be chewed on?), Abby's babysitting ward's flipflop (just one, mind you), his water bowl, and one of Paul's leather sandals (okay, that was actually a blessing) among other things we just don't know about. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Paul's brush hog in awhile.....


I think my kids need to go back to school. IQ levels have dropped dramatically this summer.

She even had some on her feet.

She came down the hall going "I AM A ROBOT. I DRINK CAPRI SUN."

She's my sunshine.
(I didn't realize until I published this that her robot has boobs. Oy. She says her brother did that. He's my sunshine, too. A little sunshiney pervert.)

This is my van. Notice anything spectacularly wonderful about it? Well, besides the fine coating of dust because it hasn't rained here in like, 12 years.

You notice nothing? Here.....let's get closer....

Notice anything now?

MY VANITY PLATE FINALLY ARRIVED!

I sent off for it around the first of May and while the order form said to allow 16 weeks I didn't really think it'd take that long. I mean, those prisoners can't have that busy of a social life, can they?

Every day when we would check the mail we would all cross our fingers and chant "License plate - license plate - license plate!" Yesterday when Paul came in from work with the big yellow envelope in his hand the kids all three screamed because they knew what it was before I ever clued in. There was much jubilation. I'd have jubilated more had my head not felt like it was going to blow clean off. But still, I was happy.

If you see me driving around town, honk. Seriously. Heck, write me a note in the dust if you feel friendly enough.

I put the new plate on the van this morning and as I was putting the old, boring, official license plate in my glove compartment I got stung. It wasn't a full-size wasp, but a mini, micro wasp who had Little Wasp Syndrome or something and felt it necessary to hurt me very much badly. I am working very diligently to clean up my mouth and am so proud that in a moment of total surprise and pain instead of dropping an f-bomb or some other such profanity I hollered, "FARTKNOCKER!"

We missed the one at the carousel park

Unbeknownst to me, The Casino That Shall Not Be Named has employee parties ONCE A MONTH. People, Paul has been working there for FIFTEEN MONTHS. We have missed out on 14 dang parties! I told him to keep his payin-attention pants on from now on because I'M NOT MISSING ANOTHER FREE PARTY WHERE THEY GIVE AWAY THINGS. I (meaning Paul) was this close to winning an iPod Nano! (If by this close you mean his name was in the bucket with everyone else's and there were about 150 employee names in said bucket.) (But still, I think her finger grazed his name. Twice.)

Okay, so that aside, last night we took a lake cruise on the Cherokee Queen. Now, those of you who know me well know that a) I cannot swim, b) I get motion sickness very easily and c) I am terrified of water. So why did I go on this cruise? Because there are too many hot little numbers at that casino that would be all over my husband if someone said sic 'im. I would've freakin' bungee jumped into a vat of cooking oil if it meant not sending him onto a boat without me where they serve alcohol and everyone is in beach wear. Yeah. And please understand that I do honestly trust my husband. I just don't like others oglin' all over what is mine and has been for 15 years. 'Nuff said.

So we dropped the kids off at VBS and headed to Grove to eat at Rib Crib. I heart that place. However, I am obviously a few fries short of a Happy Meal because I ate WAY too much a mere hour before embarking upon a cruise on a boat that was more than likely going to make me sick. (People, I got sick on the Showboat Branson Belle and we never left the dock.) As soon as we started down the gangplank toward the boat I started getting queasy. I was sweating like mad, but that might've been partially due to the fact that it was still 100+ degrees outside. All I wanted was to get inside the boat into the air conditioning and get a drink to calm my nerves.

The air conditioning was virtually nil and the line for the bar stretched the the other end of the boat and started around the other side.

People kept noticing my pasty complexion and said that if you suffer from motion sickness, the higher the better. Just going outside left me wobbly, so it took a little while to get me onto the second deck. Even longer to get to the third one. But I got there, by golly. Paul found me a chair and I whipped out my phone and began texting Lori because if I didn't look out at the water and kept my head down looking at my phone I felt better. There was another gal, Jamey, suffering worse than me, so they pulled her a chair over by me and put a trashcan between us. We were party animals, let me tell ya. However, we became lifelong friends and will forever be bonded. She hugged me multiple times. Or maybe those weren't really hugs, but just the fact that neither of us could stand. Jamey's husband, Keith, brought me a beer, but I was so oogey feeling I drank half and gave the rest to Paul. That was all I drank all night. The threat of hurling was too great to add alcohol.

Getting out of the dock was spooky, but once we got going the breeze actually helped and if I didn't look at where we were going and looked off the side of the boat, I was okay. I was still really unsteady on my feet, moderately queasy and more than once grabbed at Keith (I've known him my entire life, worked with him at DHS and his mom and my mom were HS best friends). He didn't mind, though, since his wife was the other one with motion sickness. Daniel would get in front of me and Paul would get behind me any time we needed to get down stairs. I'm tellin' ya, if it hadn't been for those three I'd have been in the fetal position in a corner somewhere.

Paul played in the blackjack tournament and won second in the first round. (Didn't do so well in the final, though) After that we went downstairs to the dance floor to watch everyone get drunker and drunker and dance like they were drunk. That was a good time. If they'd played some country we could've shown off our mad two-steppin' skillz, but not one country song was played. That was fine with me because for one thing, country music makes me depressed as all get out and for another, two-stepping in flipflops is dangerous. Especially around drunk people.

The party stepped up a notch when Amanda Hugankiss showed up and screamed my name across the dance floor. Her husband, Ben Dover, had been looking for me all night. Good ol' Ben Dover and Amanda Hugankiss....them's good people.

We docked at 10:30 and while we could stay on the boat until 11, Paul and I opted to get the heck off. It was hot and everyone was drunk and we didn't win any prizes, so meh, we left.

I ended up having an almost good time. I got more of a kick out of drunk-watching than anything. Am I ready to go on a week-long cruise to Puerto Vallarta? Oh heck no. Would I go on the Queen again? Maybe.

I just hope next month's party is on land.

A Milestone Approacheth

This is my 997th post. I should plan something to celebrate my 1000th post! What say ye, innernets? What doth thou wanteth from me upon this most celebratory of occasions? Oh, you want me to quit talking like a dork? Gotcha.

Since I just had my 4th Blogaversary last month, I'm not sure what to do to celebrate 1000 posts, so if you do have any ideas I'm open to 'em. I can do another PhotoTour of my town since I left out all the best parts. Or I can show you the inside of that closet at the end of the hall that I endlessly organize yet it is endlessly a mess. Or hey, how about updated pictures of my adorably cute beagle/cocker spaniel dog named Biscuit that has come about this close to death more than once. (Dogs should not chew lawnmower wires. Or styrofoam coolers. Or bicycle seats. Or volleyballs. Or my pink beaded flamingo on top of the cellar.) Y'all just let me know what you want and to the best of my abilities, I will do it. Keep in mind, though, my daddy's a preacher and I don't do nekked, half-nekkid, or anything else that would make my mother's brain fall out of her skull and die a slow, dramatic Baptist death.

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In other news, I think I need an intervention. And it's all Lori's fault. She and I are now both having ilicit affairs with PhoneZoo.

I now am sporting, among others, the following ringtones on my phone:

* The creepy music box song from the stupid movie One Missed Call that we let Abby watch a few weeks ago and now when I play the ringtone she just about loses her doojies all over the carpet. It's good fun.

* The theme from "The Price is Right"

* Banana Phone by Raffi. Just hearing that ringtone makes me giggle.

* "F-R-E-E that spells Free Credit Report dot com bay-bee". And once you hear it, you can't get it out of your head.

* "Grow Old With You" from The Wedding Singer, which is Paul's current ringtone. His ringtone was "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma" but I much prefer the line "carry you around when your arthritis is bad" to "I worked ten hours on a John Deere tractor". For today, anyway.

* "Knockin' on Heaven's Door" by GnR, which is Pops' ringtone. He's a preacher. Get it? I slay me.

* The theme from "Sanford and Son". Just because.

* The Snickers jingle that goes "Happy peanuts soar over chocolate covered mountain tops..." Every time Kady hears it she puts her hands over her ears and yells, "STOP IT! YOU'RE MAKING ME HUNGRY!!!!"

* And finally, the gunfight song from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly". It's now high noon at our house any time Mom calls.


Paul says he cannot wait for school to start so I will go earn some money and stop making ringtones.

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Tonight Paul and I are going on a cruise on good ol' Grand Lake o' the Cherokees. Yes, I am going to need a Xanax or twelve, but we're going on a three-hour cruise on the Cherokee Queen. It's for Casino That Shall Not Be Named employees and one guest apiece. Oh and it's a luau theme. I'm going to be wearing Pops' Hawaiian shirt and we actually bought a Hawaiian shirt for Paul because chances are he will actually wear it out in public someday. And he'll probably wear socks and sandals out in public, too.

Paul called me yesterday to see if I wanted to play in the Blackjack tournament to which I answered immediately with YESSSSSSSSSS, but then he came home last night to inform me that they decided to not let guests play. Probably all for the best - I'm not sure I'd have my best game on while doped upon on Xanax.

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ONLY EIGHT MORE DAYS UNTIL THE MOM'S GETAWAY WEEKEND WITH LORI!!!!!

If we could fast-forward to next weekend, we both would. She's already declared that we're getting a room with a microwave so she can correct whatever it is I do wrong to Rice Krispie Treats. We're also planning on a podcast. And maybe some gambling. And if there is a Dollar Tree anywhere in the vicinity? Oh yeah, we are SO THERE.

And also? We're also going to take over the world. Much like Pinky and the Brain. Two stay-at-home moms and their laptops and we're going to wreak havoc on the universe.

One Rice Krispie Treat at a time.

You only love me for my blog, Mrs. Coach

As I picked up my kids tonight at VBS, Mrs. Coach immediately told me that my youngest child had given the whole church an opportunity to bond together because within the first five minutes, Kady had wandered off and no one knew where she had gone. What a kid, giving the church an opportunity like that. How kind of her. The whole church was able to form one gigantic group to search for an errant 6 year old. Yep. That's my Kady.

As soon as Mrs. Coach had related the story she then, with a deadpan look on her face, said to me, "You need to update." Mr. Coach gave her a funny look and asked, "Update what?" She said, "Her blog." Then she turned to me and said, "What happened to that 'I'm gonna blog every day' thing?" Yeesh. She ought to know I'm busy. What with all the staying at home that I'm doing these days.

So, because she asked so nicely........ HEY, MRS. COACH! I'M BLOGGING. FOR YOU. YOU'RE WELCOME.

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Friday night was the water fun extravaganza at our VBS. I had absolutely NO INTENTION of being involved in the water fun and therefore wore a white t-shirt.

Note to self: Never wear a white t-shirt where there are going to be water balloons, a water fight, or even drinks of water because that is nothing more than an invitation. You might as well not even wear a shirt because one good dousing and you're showing off your business to the congregation, the deacons and God.

I had taught the youth class one whole night (three boys in attendance) and then two of my boys didn't show up the second night so Mom asked me to take the Nursery class on Wednesday since we had some little ones who were just too young for the Preschool class. Then Thursday I didn't even have any little ones. Friday I had just planned on helping tie water balloons and clean up the church.

I went outside the church to where my husband and our friend Tommy Joe were already busy filling and tying balloons. A youth, Madelynn, was there as well. Tommy and Madelynn would fill, Paul and I would tie. Until Madelynn "accidentally" tossed a balloon at me. Then another youth got in on it. From that point on, I was nothing more than a target. We had about 2 1/2 hours to fill about 800 balloons, but about 20 minutes in, I was soaked from head to toe.

Note to self #2: Lane Bryant's Plunge pushup bras hold water. Lots of it. I would just be standing there and lean to one side and feel about 4.3 gallons of water run out of one cup or the other. It was hot outside and the sensation was rather refreshing, if not a little weird, though.

When the water fight actually began I was past the point of even attempting to dodge. I just stood there as child after child squirted me with guns, lobbed balloons at me or dumped gigantic bowls of water over my head.

Oh and did I mention that I hadn't planned on being involved in this water fight? This means that I had no extra clothes or even a towel. I drove home sitting on a tablecloth my mom dug out of the church kitchen. Then I had to run my bra through the spin cycle to get out the 45 gallons of remaining water in the extra padded cups because it's the only white bra I own and I had to wear it the next day.

First time I'd ever gone to church and come home looking like I'd been a particpant in a wet t-shirt contest at Chunky Hooters.

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Saturday Paul and I worked the back gate at the 8-man football game. I've worked the gate at the game for the last 5 or so years, but this is the second year Paul's worked it with me. It's hot as all get out, dusty and hectic, but for some strange reason we love it. This year no one honked at me and called me a b*tch, though. Whoo hoo, let's hear it for improvement!

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Sunday was the kids' VBS program and immediately after a small group of us went to a nursing home in town to sing. I wish I could say I love our monthly nursing home visit, but I can't really say I love it. I spent too many years visiting my Memaw in the nursing home and it brings back a lot of painful memories. However, I go because of my experience with Memaw. She would get so lonely....and there are some of those people in there that have no one to visit them. We saw some faces literally just light up yesterday, so we did good. I hope.

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Today I got my driver's license renewed. I had 3 days left to do it before I had to jump through many, many hoops, donate a kidney, and change my name to Julia and move to Mexico. Seriously, you just don't let your license expire in Oklahoma anymore. If you do, it's a trainwreck to get it again. It's easier to just leave the country.

I have worn glasses since I was 11 and have an eyeglass restriction on my license, but because Oklahoma's gone all Big Brother, now you have to take your glasses off for your license picture. And you can't smile. Somethig about facial recognition software and criminals and blah blah blah. You also have to put our index fingers on a little scanner thingy and your fingerprints are encoded somewhere on the card. Yeah. I'm tellin' ya. Big Brother has his hands alllll over it.

And because of the lack of smiling in the pictures, my last license had me looking like a very angry indian. My hair was very dark, long and I just looked very indian for some reason. This one, though, I look like I'm drunk and in serious need of a nap. I knew I blinked as soon as she snapped it, but my eyes were open enough that she kept it. Oh yay. For the next four years I get to flash that pretty thing at store clerks everywhere. I can't wait for 2012.

Snacktivate!

Recently I signed up with MomCentral, although I don't normally jump on the mom-group bandwagons. I don't know, maybe it's that whole "doesn't play well with others" thing I have goin' on, I don't know. But people, I LOVE this place!

I signed up at the website and within an hour I received a personal email from one of the gals there, welcoming me to the group. It was not a form letter, it was not a blanket "thanks nameless, anonymous person for signing up" email, it was an email from someone who had already visited my blog and had actually read a few posts. They totally had me at hello.

So along with being a member of MomCentral, you can sign up to do BlogTours for them. I don't spend my entire day online (although my husband would probably argue that one) so I don't get some of the invitations as soon as they come in and I miss quite a few, but I did manage to get invited to do the Snacktivate! BlogTour from Kellogg's. You know, the cereal people. Big tiger? Three little dudes that make your cereal talk? Yeah, that Kellogg's.

Monday the mailman (He's an actual man who carries the mail so I feel confident in calling him that, rather than "letter carrier". He seems like the kind of guy who would take offense to that term.) delivered a ton of boxes to our house. Two were from Ab's first online shopping adventure (more in another post) but the biggest one was from KELLOGG'S!

It was a veritable hurricane of brown box and paper packing while we (meaning me) went berzerk getting to the goodies inside the box from the Kellogg's Company: Two - Two! - boxes of Frosted Mini-Wheats and a cool snack cup for cereal and milk on the go. There was also a recipe for Sassy Sunpops, which we promptly made. Well, without the sticks to make them into actual "pops" and flax seed because I didn't have any in the house. Okay, so basically we just made the "Crunchy Peanut Butter Cookies." Anyway, let me just say YUM. And with Sam's recent tummy troubles, this family can use all the help it can get with adding fiber to our diet.

But the Snacktivate! website is what I'm really here to talk about. Abby and I have spent several days looking over this site, clicking on links and seeing what we could learn and what other recipes we could find. I clicked all the way through to see how Kellogg's is involved in schools and how they do their part in making sure school lunch programs are healthier. Since my kids eat two meals at school, five days a week, nine months out of the year, that is a good thing. I also learned that Kellogg's PopTarts are better for you than breakfast pizza or even scrambled eggs. Who knew? See, Mom? I really AM doing a good job! Something else? Nearly 25% of our daily calories come from snacking, so it's kind of more important than throwing a couple of cookies and some kool-ade at your kid when they come in from playing. Abby printed out about 37,000 recipes (Okay, she printed five...) for us to try, so if it caught an 11 year old's attention it can't be bad!


Check out the Kellogg's Snacktivate! website and see what they're all about.