30 minutes until class. I've got killer, nuclear, monster butterflies. I'm so silly that way - the test is over, yet I'm still nervous. Go figure.
I'm considering buying Stewed Hamm a plane ticket and taking him to one of my Macro classes so he can see WHY the entire class is clueless. Maybe it's just us, maybe it's Economics in general. Either way, I want Stewed Hamm to go to class with me. I'd buy him a beer afterwards, too.
----------------------
I got new arm and ankle bling today to go with the new bling on my glasses. I am blingalicious. And because I think would be Fergie if I could, I will spell it for you.
B-l-i-n-g-a-l-i-c-i-o-u-s
You're welcome.
---------------------
A little over one week to go until the Okie Blogger Round-up! I'm getting so excited!
The other night we were sitting in my living room discussing the upcoming event. Tater said, "Well, I just want you all to know, I'm wearing a boobie shirt. Just in case there is some single Oklahoma blogger there." I told her I thought that was a good call.
Paul, not to be left out of the conversation, said, "Okay, and I'll wear my penis pants! You know, just in case......well.....just in case."
I don't think it'd be possible to love him any more than I do right now.
--------------------
Today at lunch there were 8 of us ladies sitting around the table at the Mexican restaurant. The conversation turned to TV shows and everyone started talking about a show they'd watched last night. It was a crime show, not a clue what it was. They also discusssed a new one called "Life" on NBC. I sat there quietly eating my chicken nachos el charro while they lamented over a particular character leaving and how someone was going to commit suicide. Finally I said, "Yeah, and I can't WAIT for the premier of Cavemen next week."
Crickets chirped. 14 eyes looked upon me as if I'd sprouted my very own cavemen right out of my right breast. And they think they can make a social worker outta me. It is very clear that by my television watching preferences alone, I am not cut out for a career in social work.
I want to be entertained by laughing at my television programming. Folks, I have so little time for TV these days, I make sure that what I watch is going to make me chuckle, laugh or even snort. Watching the characters blacklight for semen and scrape brains off of bedspreads doesn't make me snort. Like watching Wayne Newton dance - THAT made me snort. And kind of feel a little bad for him, too.
Although.... I doubt Cavemen is going to make me snort, but I'm willing to give it a try.
------------------
Every day someone in my bulk mail folder asks me if I'm satisfied with the size of my manhood and every day I stop and think, "Yes. Yes, I am. My penis is just fine, thanks."
------------------
Benjamin Franklin is bor-ring.
-----------------
I'm still with Fred.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Conquerer
I have spent my entire evening setting up my new! wireless! printer!
I add those exclamation points in an effort to make it seem wayyyyy more exciting than it was because believe me, it was not.
I got it set up from the desktop and it worked great. The laptop, however, was another story entirely. At 10:30 I got that blasted thing to print for the first time. (I got home at 3:30. Yeah.) (Darn you, Vista! Darn you!) There was much jubiliation and praise to God at that point because He had to have seen the fact that I was ready to throw something - namely the printer - out the door and it was His Divine Intervention that printed that page.
So now here it is 10:52 and I'm starting my homework for the night.
Let no one say my priorities aren't in order.
And as a footnote: I had a moment of utter maternal glee this morning when I heard my 5 year old singing "Jenny - 867-5309" -- and she got the phone number perfectly right. That's my girl.
Oh yeah, another footnote: Picked up my new glasses this afternoon. They are quite bling-y and very much scream DIVA at anyone who gazes upon my face. And yeah, there are tons of folks lining up for that, lemme tell ya. I'd take a picture, but I've had my makeup on since 6:30am and I'm so shiny the glare would shatter the camera, not to mention my mascara is riding somewhere around my nose right about now. But trust me when I say, I am gorgeous.
Tune in tomorrow for Volume 3 of "Blogging From Work" - the edition where I'm moments away from getting the results of my Macro test and the diarrhea is back.
I add those exclamation points in an effort to make it seem wayyyyy more exciting than it was because believe me, it was not.
I got it set up from the desktop and it worked great. The laptop, however, was another story entirely. At 10:30 I got that blasted thing to print for the first time. (I got home at 3:30. Yeah.) (Darn you, Vista! Darn you!) There was much jubiliation and praise to God at that point because He had to have seen the fact that I was ready to throw something - namely the printer - out the door and it was His Divine Intervention that printed that page.
So now here it is 10:52 and I'm starting my homework for the night.
Let no one say my priorities aren't in order.
And as a footnote: I had a moment of utter maternal glee this morning when I heard my 5 year old singing "Jenny - 867-5309" -- and she got the phone number perfectly right. That's my girl.
Oh yeah, another footnote: Picked up my new glasses this afternoon. They are quite bling-y and very much scream DIVA at anyone who gazes upon my face. And yeah, there are tons of folks lining up for that, lemme tell ya. I'd take a picture, but I've had my makeup on since 6:30am and I'm so shiny the glare would shatter the camera, not to mention my mascara is riding somewhere around my nose right about now. But trust me when I say, I am gorgeous.
Tune in tomorrow for Volume 3 of "Blogging From Work" - the edition where I'm moments away from getting the results of my Macro test and the diarrhea is back.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
A few thoughts
Cavemen were tough. And while I am fascinated with watching them on the Science Channel, I am afraid I won't be so fascinated with the upcoming sitcom.
-----------------------------------
I need a device that will automatically detect the background noise in the room and then turn the TV volume up or down accordingly. The volume is fine until the AC kicks off, then it's freakin' blaring. So then you turn it down to avoid permanent hearing loss only to find that about a minute and a half later you can't hear it because the AC is back on again. And you kind of, for about a second or two, think that that last blare of volume finally went and did it and destroyed your hearing, then you remember that it's the dang AC again.
-----------------------------------
"Kady, if you think you need to tootie, DON'T. Okay? Got it? Seriously, whatever you do, do not toot unless you are on the toilet."
-----------------------------------
Seventy-five pages of reading about Benjamin Franklin and the things he wrote is not my idea of fun. I mean, I like to read and all, but ol' Ben Frank isn't my number one choice. Now, put him at Hogwart's and let's see how he fares - then you'd have a reader here, by cracky.
-----------------------------------
Why can't all children's TV programming be as awesome as PBS? There are some killer kid shows on PBS. Right now, Kady and I are enamored by Super Why and Word Girl. Just a few minutes ago she figured out that the word needed to finish a game was "deactivate." She's five. I was impressed.
-----------------------------------
I think for lunch Kady's going to have a cheese and rice sandwich on white bread with a side of banana-flavored applesauce. That way I'll cover all the parts of the BRAT diet and more than likely constipate her so well that by week's end I'll be having to give her a laxative.
-----------------------------------
I wish I could work from home. I really like staying at home. But somehow, I don't think the friendly folks at DHS would let me bring home the lateral files and house them in my bedroom or anything.
Don't get me wrong, the job is fine, but I just really like staying at home. I like being a housewife. Tater went berzerk when the kids went to school and she was staying at home because she said it was too quiet, but man, I love quiet. I'd also cook and bake and my homework would always be caught up.
Now....to go rob a bank.....or find a job that will let me stay at home.....
I just don't think I'm suited to work in a traditional sense. Cousin Stacey says I don't play well with others and man, she's right. I don't really like people all that much. Oh, I like visiting with people I see at Wal*Mart and auctions and stuff like that, but I don't like seeing people on a daily basis on their terms. I don't like having to play by someone else's rules, I don't like wearing uncomfortable shoes and peeing in the office restroom because man, I pee a lot I've discovered. I like making people laugh, but I prefer to do it through my writing. I'm a mess, aren't I?
Go ahead, tell me to grow up, tell me "Welcome to the real world, babycakes" and secretly think to yourself that I'm really just lazy, but I might cry if you actually tell me, so be prepared for that. And know that I'm not lazy - I have no problem earning money and working to do it, I just don't want to do it anywhere but in my house.
-----------------------------------
It's a long time until LOST starts again and frankly, that makes me a bit frustrated and edgy.
-----------------------------------
A few weeks ago, Kady crawled up in her Grammy's lap and said, "Gwammy? I'm a wittle hungwy. Do you have someting I could eat or swallow?"
-----------------------------------
After Abby's baptism on Sunday, as we were leaving the church one of the deacons said, "Hey, Abby! No bath tonight, huh?" We laughed and went on after hugs and congratulations. Later that night when I told Ab to hit the showers she said, "Nuh uh. Dale gave me permission to skip tonight, remember?" I gave her that look and said, "Yeah, well Jesus washed away your sins, but sweetie, you smell like butt. Go take a shower." I have a feeling she's going to have a talk with that deacon.
-----------------------------------
I need a device that will automatically detect the background noise in the room and then turn the TV volume up or down accordingly. The volume is fine until the AC kicks off, then it's freakin' blaring. So then you turn it down to avoid permanent hearing loss only to find that about a minute and a half later you can't hear it because the AC is back on again. And you kind of, for about a second or two, think that that last blare of volume finally went and did it and destroyed your hearing, then you remember that it's the dang AC again.
-----------------------------------
"Kady, if you think you need to tootie, DON'T. Okay? Got it? Seriously, whatever you do, do not toot unless you are on the toilet."
-----------------------------------
Seventy-five pages of reading about Benjamin Franklin and the things he wrote is not my idea of fun. I mean, I like to read and all, but ol' Ben Frank isn't my number one choice. Now, put him at Hogwart's and let's see how he fares - then you'd have a reader here, by cracky.
-----------------------------------
Why can't all children's TV programming be as awesome as PBS? There are some killer kid shows on PBS. Right now, Kady and I are enamored by Super Why and Word Girl. Just a few minutes ago she figured out that the word needed to finish a game was "deactivate." She's five. I was impressed.
-----------------------------------
I think for lunch Kady's going to have a cheese and rice sandwich on white bread with a side of banana-flavored applesauce. That way I'll cover all the parts of the BRAT diet and more than likely constipate her so well that by week's end I'll be having to give her a laxative.
-----------------------------------
I wish I could work from home. I really like staying at home. But somehow, I don't think the friendly folks at DHS would let me bring home the lateral files and house them in my bedroom or anything.
Don't get me wrong, the job is fine, but I just really like staying at home. I like being a housewife. Tater went berzerk when the kids went to school and she was staying at home because she said it was too quiet, but man, I love quiet. I'd also cook and bake and my homework would always be caught up.
Now....to go rob a bank.....or find a job that will let me stay at home.....
I just don't think I'm suited to work in a traditional sense. Cousin Stacey says I don't play well with others and man, she's right. I don't really like people all that much. Oh, I like visiting with people I see at Wal*Mart and auctions and stuff like that, but I don't like seeing people on a daily basis on their terms. I don't like having to play by someone else's rules, I don't like wearing uncomfortable shoes and peeing in the office restroom because man, I pee a lot I've discovered. I like making people laugh, but I prefer to do it through my writing. I'm a mess, aren't I?
Go ahead, tell me to grow up, tell me "Welcome to the real world, babycakes" and secretly think to yourself that I'm really just lazy, but I might cry if you actually tell me, so be prepared for that. And know that I'm not lazy - I have no problem earning money and working to do it, I just don't want to do it anywhere but in my house.
-----------------------------------
It's a long time until LOST starts again and frankly, that makes me a bit frustrated and edgy.
-----------------------------------
A few weeks ago, Kady crawled up in her Grammy's lap and said, "Gwammy? I'm a wittle hungwy. Do you have someting I could eat or swallow?"
-----------------------------------
After Abby's baptism on Sunday, as we were leaving the church one of the deacons said, "Hey, Abby! No bath tonight, huh?" We laughed and went on after hugs and congratulations. Later that night when I told Ab to hit the showers she said, "Nuh uh. Dale gave me permission to skip tonight, remember?" I gave her that look and said, "Yeah, well Jesus washed away your sins, but sweetie, you smell like butt. Go take a shower." I have a feeling she's going to have a talk with that deacon.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Icky
How can one be hot and cold at the same time? I don't get it. You're freezing so you get a blanket because a blanket sound so good and comfort-y, but as soon as you get all cozy it becomes clear that putting that blanket on your body is suddenly the equivalent of putting a blanket of molten lava on your body, so you throw the blanket off only to find yourself chittering and chattering and shaking and wondering where the hell that blanket went.
I ended up sleeping with the blanket curled around one arm and that arm tucked under my chin, the other arm thrown out and not touching anything but the bed and only touching it because I couldn't defy gravity. One leg was wrapped up in blanket and the other was uncovered from hip to ankle, but I had to have my foot covered.
Being sick bites. Hard.
I slept a lot today.
And why am I so fascinated by those shows about cavemen on the Science Channel?
The one about the killer, human-flesh-chewing ants this morning was nightmare fodder, I'm tellin' ya.
By 2 I was feeling moderately human again and the house felt cold and claustrophobic, so I went to pick the kids up at school. Kady, after throwing her body into me at warp speed and hugging me so fiercely I thought I was going to break or at the least dent, informed me that her belly had hurt all day. I tried to remember what they served in the cafeteria for lunch because through careful research I've discovered that most bellyaches after school come from hunger when one or more of my children opt out of lunch, but my brain was still melted/frozen from the fever/chills thing I'd had going on earlier, so I instead just patted her on the head and said we'd get a snack when we got home.
Tot One spent Saturday night puking and performing various other unpleasant bodily functions that involve toilets. She apparently had the same thing Sam and I had back before school started - she was so dizzy she couldn't walk. Bless her little heart. I kind of knew, in the back of my mind, that we were long overdue for a hostile germ takover.
I got everyone home, they attacked the snack bowl, then bam - one fruit snack and a sip of grape juice and Kady was gagging. Bad idea, that snack. Baaaad idea. I told her to spit the fruit snack out, for Pete's sake, and please don't puke on me, child. I told her to go to the toilet if she was going to hurl and man, she high-tailed it. After I cleaned up the half-chewed fruit snack that had oh-so-elegantly missed the trashcan, I found Kady in the bathroom, kneeling before the ol' porcelain throne. She was pale and had big circles under her eyes. Oy vey.
With Ab's help I fixed Kady up the usual pallet on the couch - I drape my couch in sheets so that if the ailing child does happen to miss the trashcan, they at least won't get my couch with a direct hit. I'd rather wash a sheet than a couch. She laid there awhile, moaned and groaned, curled her knees up under her chin and moaned some more. Then, bam she was fine.
Agh, I was frustrated. But at the same time, too tired to tell her the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. So I sent her outside to play, which is what she wanted to do.
She played outside with the other kids for about 15 minutes then was back on the couch, curled up with her knees under her again. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep. I called my supervisor and left a voice mail that I might not be in again tomorrow. Kady slept through dinner, a rather rowdy and loud game (or seven) of PacMan between Tot Two and Sam, four showers, three out-loud readings by Tots One and Two and Sam, and then the bringing-out of every Littlest Pet Shop critter my kids own and the building of a critter town in my living room floor. I sat in a stupor and watched them, watched my pale 5-year-old sleep in the midst of the noise and wondered how much filing would be on my desk come Wednesday if I miss yet another day of work.
She woke up around 7:30 and seemed fine, but still pale and complaining of a headache. I fixed her a piece of toast, she ate it, put on her pajamas, got her woobie, Mimzy, both Build-a-Bears, curled up on the couch and said, "I fink I'll go back to sweep now."
I ended up moving her to my bed after draping it with the sheets that had previously draped the couch. I'll sleep in a raincoat so if she barfs toward me and not the trashcan I'll be somewhat protected. Paul's camped out on the couch because he's spent the entire day with (oh he's gonna kill me for writing this out loud) a case of the runs.
I love it when school starts and the germs are new and fresh and eager to infect.
I ended up sleeping with the blanket curled around one arm and that arm tucked under my chin, the other arm thrown out and not touching anything but the bed and only touching it because I couldn't defy gravity. One leg was wrapped up in blanket and the other was uncovered from hip to ankle, but I had to have my foot covered.
Being sick bites. Hard.
I slept a lot today.
And why am I so fascinated by those shows about cavemen on the Science Channel?
The one about the killer, human-flesh-chewing ants this morning was nightmare fodder, I'm tellin' ya.
By 2 I was feeling moderately human again and the house felt cold and claustrophobic, so I went to pick the kids up at school. Kady, after throwing her body into me at warp speed and hugging me so fiercely I thought I was going to break or at the least dent, informed me that her belly had hurt all day. I tried to remember what they served in the cafeteria for lunch because through careful research I've discovered that most bellyaches after school come from hunger when one or more of my children opt out of lunch, but my brain was still melted/frozen from the fever/chills thing I'd had going on earlier, so I instead just patted her on the head and said we'd get a snack when we got home.
Tot One spent Saturday night puking and performing various other unpleasant bodily functions that involve toilets. She apparently had the same thing Sam and I had back before school started - she was so dizzy she couldn't walk. Bless her little heart. I kind of knew, in the back of my mind, that we were long overdue for a hostile germ takover.
I got everyone home, they attacked the snack bowl, then bam - one fruit snack and a sip of grape juice and Kady was gagging. Bad idea, that snack. Baaaad idea. I told her to spit the fruit snack out, for Pete's sake, and please don't puke on me, child. I told her to go to the toilet if she was going to hurl and man, she high-tailed it. After I cleaned up the half-chewed fruit snack that had oh-so-elegantly missed the trashcan, I found Kady in the bathroom, kneeling before the ol' porcelain throne. She was pale and had big circles under her eyes. Oy vey.
With Ab's help I fixed Kady up the usual pallet on the couch - I drape my couch in sheets so that if the ailing child does happen to miss the trashcan, they at least won't get my couch with a direct hit. I'd rather wash a sheet than a couch. She laid there awhile, moaned and groaned, curled her knees up under her chin and moaned some more. Then, bam she was fine.
Agh, I was frustrated. But at the same time, too tired to tell her the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf. So I sent her outside to play, which is what she wanted to do.
She played outside with the other kids for about 15 minutes then was back on the couch, curled up with her knees under her again. Within a few minutes she was sound asleep. I called my supervisor and left a voice mail that I might not be in again tomorrow. Kady slept through dinner, a rather rowdy and loud game (or seven) of PacMan between Tot Two and Sam, four showers, three out-loud readings by Tots One and Two and Sam, and then the bringing-out of every Littlest Pet Shop critter my kids own and the building of a critter town in my living room floor. I sat in a stupor and watched them, watched my pale 5-year-old sleep in the midst of the noise and wondered how much filing would be on my desk come Wednesday if I miss yet another day of work.
She woke up around 7:30 and seemed fine, but still pale and complaining of a headache. I fixed her a piece of toast, she ate it, put on her pajamas, got her woobie, Mimzy, both Build-a-Bears, curled up on the couch and said, "I fink I'll go back to sweep now."
I ended up moving her to my bed after draping it with the sheets that had previously draped the couch. I'll sleep in a raincoat so if she barfs toward me and not the trashcan I'll be somewhat protected. Paul's camped out on the couch because he's spent the entire day with (oh he's gonna kill me for writing this out loud) a case of the runs.
I love it when school starts and the germs are new and fresh and eager to infect.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
A proper dunking, among other things
Friday I was off, as I usually am on Fridays. I had an eye doctor appointment at 9, so I dropped the kids off at Mom's auction so they could bug her instead of me (her idea, not mine) and got my eyes dilated and peered into.
Turns out I'm less blind than I used to be. The last three times I've had my eyes examined, they've had to lessen my prescription. The doctor said that as a teenager I used too much power and wanted to see things boldly and now that I'm older, I don't need to do that anymore and therefore, my eyes say, "Hey, I'm incredibly lazy now and you are using me too much. Back off, dude!" He said my constant studying and computer use made it all the more obvious and that's why I've been having such frequent headaches.
And just wait'll you see the glasses I got! Months ago I checked with EyeMasters and they offered me two pair for $230 and I was totally sold because my last ONE pair from the optometrist cost me just under $600 and I didn't want to do that again. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to, you know, just see what the eye doctor had -- The glasses I picked out have rhinestones down the earpieces and the sunglass clip has rhinestones all-freakin-over them. They just scream "I may be blind, but I am still a diva!" And they weren't $600. Whew.
The whole time I was trying them on I couldn't help but think of the scene in the movie Grease where Marty loses one of her diamonds off her glasses in her mac and cheese.
----------------------------
Friday evening Mom watched the kids overnight. The original plan was that Abby was just going to stay and we'd pick her up at Saturday's auction, but then Paul was actually open to the idea of going to the show so I called Mom to see if she'd take two more kids. We dropped the kids off the went to the Stables to, you know, eat. It just so happens that there's also a casino there. Hmh. Pretty coincidental, if you ask me.
We drove the yard barge - aka the big truck, a Dodge Ram the size of Mt. Rushmore - and two other yard barges parked on either side of us, one of them incredibly crooked. Before it was said and done, I was standing in the parking lot, arms over my head, directing Paul while he inched his way out. Just so happens there was a freakin' Jag behind us and we weren't keen on denting it. I felt like I needed an orange vest and some lighted cones, but turns out my hands and gray t-shirt were enough.
We saw Superbad and it was okay. Not supergood, but not superbad. Definitely not as good as The 40-Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but still pretty funny in parts. There was one part that I snorted, so if it gets a snort out of me, it's not a total waste of money. I probably would've laughed more had I seen it with Tater, though, to be honest. We just laugh more together. Plus, there was a row of about 5 college guys behind us who found it utterly hiLARious to fart loudly throughout the movie. Not just little poots that you could smell and wonder what in the world is that SMELL, but I'm talking disgustingly liquid-sounding bun-rattling farts that made them laugh hysterically and caused my husband to snicker and me to shake my head at their stupidity. Hmh, wonder why they were the movies on a Friday night with each other and not girls.....
---------------------------
Saturday night I wrote a paper over the relevance of computers in the world of journalism. Whoo hoo.
--------------------------
Today was Abby's Baptism. I cried like a baby. She was so precious and innocent, yet so grownup and wise-looking at the same time. Before, during the service, she leaned her head on my shoulder and looked off my Bible, her legs crossed like a young lady, but then when she stepped down into the baptistry in that white gown, she looked like a little girl again.
-------------------------
I took a 2-hour nap this afternoon. I haven't taken a Sunday nap in ages. Paul and the kids conqured PacMan like three times. Like, PacMan used to seem so hard, yet my 8 year old was the first one to clear the entire game. Go figure.
-------------------------
The design for the new look of Redneck Diva is complete and being prepared for the web. My license plate will be done in a week and she's going to make a t-shirt for me to test wear, make sure I'm satisfied with the quality and then we'll decide how many to print after that.
Tonight I bought a domain and over the next few days will get the blog settled in there. Maybe some gingham valances and a bean bag or two to make it feel like home.....
I am a dot com.
Turns out I'm less blind than I used to be. The last three times I've had my eyes examined, they've had to lessen my prescription. The doctor said that as a teenager I used too much power and wanted to see things boldly and now that I'm older, I don't need to do that anymore and therefore, my eyes say, "Hey, I'm incredibly lazy now and you are using me too much. Back off, dude!" He said my constant studying and computer use made it all the more obvious and that's why I've been having such frequent headaches.
And just wait'll you see the glasses I got! Months ago I checked with EyeMasters and they offered me two pair for $230 and I was totally sold because my last ONE pair from the optometrist cost me just under $600 and I didn't want to do that again. But I figured it wouldn't hurt to, you know, just see what the eye doctor had -- The glasses I picked out have rhinestones down the earpieces and the sunglass clip has rhinestones all-freakin-over them. They just scream "I may be blind, but I am still a diva!" And they weren't $600. Whew.
The whole time I was trying them on I couldn't help but think of the scene in the movie Grease where Marty loses one of her diamonds off her glasses in her mac and cheese.
----------------------------
Friday evening Mom watched the kids overnight. The original plan was that Abby was just going to stay and we'd pick her up at Saturday's auction, but then Paul was actually open to the idea of going to the show so I called Mom to see if she'd take two more kids. We dropped the kids off the went to the Stables to, you know, eat. It just so happens that there's also a casino there. Hmh. Pretty coincidental, if you ask me.
We drove the yard barge - aka the big truck, a Dodge Ram the size of Mt. Rushmore - and two other yard barges parked on either side of us, one of them incredibly crooked. Before it was said and done, I was standing in the parking lot, arms over my head, directing Paul while he inched his way out. Just so happens there was a freakin' Jag behind us and we weren't keen on denting it. I felt like I needed an orange vest and some lighted cones, but turns out my hands and gray t-shirt were enough.
We saw Superbad and it was okay. Not supergood, but not superbad. Definitely not as good as The 40-Year Old Virgin or Knocked Up, but still pretty funny in parts. There was one part that I snorted, so if it gets a snort out of me, it's not a total waste of money. I probably would've laughed more had I seen it with Tater, though, to be honest. We just laugh more together. Plus, there was a row of about 5 college guys behind us who found it utterly hiLARious to fart loudly throughout the movie. Not just little poots that you could smell and wonder what in the world is that SMELL, but I'm talking disgustingly liquid-sounding bun-rattling farts that made them laugh hysterically and caused my husband to snicker and me to shake my head at their stupidity. Hmh, wonder why they were the movies on a Friday night with each other and not girls.....
---------------------------
Saturday night I wrote a paper over the relevance of computers in the world of journalism. Whoo hoo.
--------------------------
Today was Abby's Baptism. I cried like a baby. She was so precious and innocent, yet so grownup and wise-looking at the same time. Before, during the service, she leaned her head on my shoulder and looked off my Bible, her legs crossed like a young lady, but then when she stepped down into the baptistry in that white gown, she looked like a little girl again.
-------------------------
I took a 2-hour nap this afternoon. I haven't taken a Sunday nap in ages. Paul and the kids conqured PacMan like three times. Like, PacMan used to seem so hard, yet my 8 year old was the first one to clear the entire game. Go figure.
-------------------------
The design for the new look of Redneck Diva is complete and being prepared for the web. My license plate will be done in a week and she's going to make a t-shirt for me to test wear, make sure I'm satisfied with the quality and then we'll decide how many to print after that.
Tonight I bought a domain and over the next few days will get the blog settled in there. Maybe some gingham valances and a bean bag or two to make it feel like home.....
I am a dot com.
Do they have meetings for this?
I have found my new obsession. Rather than taking any extra money I might happen upon and throwing it away in the casinos, I now throw it away on other people's discarded crap.
Yes, I am addicted to auctions.
My mother has worked for a particular auction company for several years now and would tell us if we needed to come check things out. While we'd occasionally visit one if there were good tools or some specific item of furniture we wanted, we never made it a huge priority on a regular basis.
But now....oh now, I have reached the pinnacle of redneckness and every Saturday you'll find me amidst a crowd of used furniture dealers, old ladies with flea market booths, farmers in bib overalls and various other people you'd never dream you'd be hanging out with and engaging in a meaningful conversation about vintage Christmas ornaments.
My intestines are becoming quite accustomed to the Frito pie it gets every seven days and is washed down with a lukewarm can of Coke.
Yesterday I got a cement frog for $6. Yes, a cement frog for only $6!! You're jealous, aren't you? Yep, I thought you were. Kady was as excited as I was.
I also got a teddy bear in a Santa hat the rides a tricycle while it plays a Christmas song. (Not sure what song it plays, the kids have kidnapped that poor bear and he's somewhere in the back of the house.) I gave $12 for it, which was probably too much, but I had waited around all day to bid on that thing and by golly, I was getting it.
I bid on a won a lot of baskets for $3 and normally I am a basket-hater, but the main basket in the lot was one shaped like Oklahoma. You know, the state I live in? Yeah, that Oklahoma. I got it for Mom. She was utterly ecstatic - well, as ecstatic as one gets over a basket shaped like their home state - and I was happy I could do that for her. And more than likely I'll be able to sell the other baskets in the flea market booth for a couple of bucks each and actually make money on the deal. I'm such an entrepreneur.
There were more Christmas ornaments and decorations I wanted, but Paul and the kids were hot and tired and hungry and since they'd been outside virtually the entire day, I obliged and did what they wanted to do, which was go home and strip down to as few clothes as possible and play PacMan on the PS2.
The auctioneer and his wife are Paul's aunt and uncle. This was a big auction with a lot of nice items so Paul's entire family was notified and was in attendance. At one point during the morning when I was going outside to hang Paul another box of crap I'd won, there was just this huge circle of Winscotts all standing around not talking because that's the kind of family he comes from. Oh, they're wonderful people, but they are not talkers. It's nothing to be sitting around the living room during a holiday and everyone is in one room and no one's saying a word. This is sooooo opposite from my family where there is never a moment where someone isn't talking, laughing or entertaining in some way. While I love 'em, I didn't hang around in the big non-talking circle too much - there were too manyarticles of crap items to bid on anyway.
I totally get into "auction mode" when the lots and items I want are coming up. I send the kids off to be with their daddy, I clear my throat to make sure my voice is good and strong so I can holler "HEY!" when I bid and then I make sure I'm firmly planted where I want to be so that the ol' blue hairs I'm bidding against don't think they can shove me out of the way. Oh no, I'm fatter'n you, old woman and I've got my eye on that Black and Decker Scum Buster and you are not going to distract me with your perfume that smells like furniture polish and the inordinate amount of cat hair all over your clothes. Oh no....I am in the zone.
I didn't get that Scum Buster, though - I'm cheap and I figure if I can't get a Scum Buster for less than $15 when it's already busted someone else's scum in their mildewy bathtub, then I'd just rather pay full price.
But that cement frog looks so dang cute out there next to the cement garden gnome. Kady had the auspicious honor of placing him in his new home. Then the five of us stood there in the yard and admired the rock bed (rock bed because I can't grow flowers and hey, rocks don't die) and that's when I decided that I need an old toilet to put out by the fence to use as a planter.
Hey, we already have a pink bathtub in the field to water any animals we might someday own, so I think the toilet flower pot will only add to the ambience. If rednecks have ambience, that is.
Yeah, I think we do.
Yes, I am addicted to auctions.
My mother has worked for a particular auction company for several years now and would tell us if we needed to come check things out. While we'd occasionally visit one if there were good tools or some specific item of furniture we wanted, we never made it a huge priority on a regular basis.
But now....oh now, I have reached the pinnacle of redneckness and every Saturday you'll find me amidst a crowd of used furniture dealers, old ladies with flea market booths, farmers in bib overalls and various other people you'd never dream you'd be hanging out with and engaging in a meaningful conversation about vintage Christmas ornaments.
My intestines are becoming quite accustomed to the Frito pie it gets every seven days and is washed down with a lukewarm can of Coke.
Yesterday I got a cement frog for $6. Yes, a cement frog for only $6!! You're jealous, aren't you? Yep, I thought you were. Kady was as excited as I was.
I also got a teddy bear in a Santa hat the rides a tricycle while it plays a Christmas song. (Not sure what song it plays, the kids have kidnapped that poor bear and he's somewhere in the back of the house.) I gave $12 for it, which was probably too much, but I had waited around all day to bid on that thing and by golly, I was getting it.
I bid on a won a lot of baskets for $3 and normally I am a basket-hater, but the main basket in the lot was one shaped like Oklahoma. You know, the state I live in? Yeah, that Oklahoma. I got it for Mom. She was utterly ecstatic - well, as ecstatic as one gets over a basket shaped like their home state - and I was happy I could do that for her. And more than likely I'll be able to sell the other baskets in the flea market booth for a couple of bucks each and actually make money on the deal. I'm such an entrepreneur.
There were more Christmas ornaments and decorations I wanted, but Paul and the kids were hot and tired and hungry and since they'd been outside virtually the entire day, I obliged and did what they wanted to do, which was go home and strip down to as few clothes as possible and play PacMan on the PS2.
The auctioneer and his wife are Paul's aunt and uncle. This was a big auction with a lot of nice items so Paul's entire family was notified and was in attendance. At one point during the morning when I was going outside to hang Paul another box of crap I'd won, there was just this huge circle of Winscotts all standing around not talking because that's the kind of family he comes from. Oh, they're wonderful people, but they are not talkers. It's nothing to be sitting around the living room during a holiday and everyone is in one room and no one's saying a word. This is sooooo opposite from my family where there is never a moment where someone isn't talking, laughing or entertaining in some way. While I love 'em, I didn't hang around in the big non-talking circle too much - there were too many
I totally get into "auction mode" when the lots and items I want are coming up. I send the kids off to be with their daddy, I clear my throat to make sure my voice is good and strong so I can holler "HEY!" when I bid and then I make sure I'm firmly planted where I want to be so that the ol' blue hairs I'm bidding against don't think they can shove me out of the way. Oh no, I'm fatter'n you, old woman and I've got my eye on that Black and Decker Scum Buster and you are not going to distract me with your perfume that smells like furniture polish and the inordinate amount of cat hair all over your clothes. Oh no....I am in the zone.
I didn't get that Scum Buster, though - I'm cheap and I figure if I can't get a Scum Buster for less than $15 when it's already busted someone else's scum in their mildewy bathtub, then I'd just rather pay full price.
But that cement frog looks so dang cute out there next to the cement garden gnome. Kady had the auspicious honor of placing him in his new home. Then the five of us stood there in the yard and admired the rock bed (rock bed because I can't grow flowers and hey, rocks don't die) and that's when I decided that I need an old toilet to put out by the fence to use as a planter.
Hey, we already have a pink bathtub in the field to water any animals we might someday own, so I think the toilet flower pot will only add to the ambience. If rednecks have ambience, that is.
Yeah, I think we do.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Bombs away
I was third person to turn in my test and walk out of the classroom.
The instructor told us last week that he was going to lecture after the test because we're already a week behind, but tonight he decided to have mercy on us. His words were, "I think lecturing after the exam would just be too much on you tonight." Oh, that just built up my hopes - built 'em all the way up from the possibility of failure to probability of failure.
Some of the questions were easy and I didn't have to think about the answer - I just knew them. Others were worded so strangely that I wanted to scream. I ate the eraser off of my pencil during that test. Maybe that eraser will stop the diarrhea....
Paul told me last night that I've been downright ridiculous what with all the fretting and fussing I've done this week over that test. He said, "You've studied. You've studied a lot. You're either going to pass or fail. So quit making yourself sick." He's wise, my husband. Not really a touchy-feely-cry on my shoulder kinda guy, but still wise. So as soon as I got down the stairs and into the lobby I called him. He hadn't been expecting to hear from me until after 9, so upon hearing my voice he said, "Wow. You're done early. It must not have been as bad as you thought it was going to be, huh? Now....I made a pizza and I'm putting some for you in the microwave right now. Get home to me and the kids."
And that right there pretty much assured the fact that he's getting laid tonight.
And I'm really glad I didn't divorce him 8 years ago when I realllllly wanted to and I think he wanted me to as well.
The instructor told us last week that he was going to lecture after the test because we're already a week behind, but tonight he decided to have mercy on us. His words were, "I think lecturing after the exam would just be too much on you tonight." Oh, that just built up my hopes - built 'em all the way up from the possibility of failure to probability of failure.
Some of the questions were easy and I didn't have to think about the answer - I just knew them. Others were worded so strangely that I wanted to scream. I ate the eraser off of my pencil during that test. Maybe that eraser will stop the diarrhea....
Paul told me last night that I've been downright ridiculous what with all the fretting and fussing I've done this week over that test. He said, "You've studied. You've studied a lot. You're either going to pass or fail. So quit making yourself sick." He's wise, my husband. Not really a touchy-feely-cry on my shoulder kinda guy, but still wise. So as soon as I got down the stairs and into the lobby I called him. He hadn't been expecting to hear from me until after 9, so upon hearing my voice he said, "Wow. You're done early. It must not have been as bad as you thought it was going to be, huh? Now....I made a pizza and I'm putting some for you in the microwave right now. Get home to me and the kids."
And that right there pretty much assured the fact that he's getting laid tonight.
And I'm really glad I didn't divorce him 8 years ago when I realllllly wanted to and I think he wanted me to as well.
Blogging from work, Vol 2
Tee hee....it feels so scandalous when I do this. Even though I have permission, there's just something scathingly brilliantly scandalous about blogging on your boss's computer.
-------------------------------
I have my first test in Macro tonight. If the relentless diarrhea and inability to eat all day says anything at all, I am going to flunk this test miserably. Actually, I don't think I'll flunk, but I am not deluding myself into thinking I'll get anything higher than a C, probably something lower. It's killing me to admit that, by the way.
I took practice tests all day yesterday and got an 80 on one and in the 60's on the rest. Last week the instructor told us that when he was in college, on the very first test he ever took in Macro, he answered all the questions completely opposite of what they were supposed to be. And sure enough, he jinxed me and I'll be danged if that's not what I did on the practice tests. Stewed Hamm graciously gave me some pointers for Economics on the whole and it helped, but I think I'm just too mathtarded to understand the graphs. I did, however, master which direction the shift in the supply and demand curves go. I think. We'll see. I may not, in reality. I think I have a handle on the terminology, though.
I think.
----------------------------
Goinglikesixty wanted to know Mrs. Weese's reaction to "We wook at my butt! See it?" According to Kady, she "just busted out waffing and waffing at me and said my daddy is funny!"
Mrs. Weese has told me several times how impressed she is at Kady's ability to convey humor, so I think she appreciated our ingenuity. We're not doing anything out of the ordinary - we're just a bunch of tacky, unrefined rednecks trying to help our kid learn her sightwords.
----------------------------
Several years ago my mom bought Tater's kids and my kids each a set of Schoolhouse Rock videos. Remember watching Schoolhouse Rock between cartoons on Saturday mornings? I loved those cartoons and still get "I'm Just a Bill" and "Conjunction Junction" stuck in my head from time to time. And who can forget "Interjection"? Our kids, however.....not so much impressed. The question I got once was, "Can we watch something that doesn't teach us so much?" Needless to say, the kids don't watch them very often.
At Parent/Teacher Conference this week Abby's teacher asked how Ab was doing on memorizing the Preamble to the Constitution. I was clueless as to what she was talking about, so putting Abby on the spot, I asked her right in front of her teacher how that was going for her.
"Oops" was her answer.
Sam's working on his 3's in multiplication and just cannot seem to grasp that concept. Oh the 2's were easy enough, but those 3's are killin' him.
Then it hit me the other night - we have all those Schoolhouse Rock videos! And we must put them to use! And use lots of exclamation points!
All day yesterday I had the song "3 is the Magic Number" on my head and today I have successfully sung the entire Preamble about 1627 times.
Sam was so entirely stoked to take his 3's test today - I hope he did good. I can sing you those 3's like nobody's business. And if only I'd remembered the Preamble song last semester when I was taking History, I'd have probably gotten an A.
Wonder if there's an Economics rock....
-------------------------
The Okie Blogger Round-up 2007 is OFFICIAL! In two weeks Tater, Paul and I will be yukking it up with other Okie bloggers from all over our great state. I can hardly wait! Last year was a blast and it was so wonderful meeting everyone - it looks like there will be even more there this year!
I asked Paul awhile back if he would go with me and he adamantly and instantly replied, "NO." So I asked Tater to escort me, as she did last year. She was on board because she's single now and hey, you never know if there's some cute Okie blogger who's just itchin' to date my little sister. Then all of the sudden Paul changed his mind and said he wanted to go, but Tater still wanted to go, so now it looks like the three of us are going. And since it's over so early this year we're thinking that the Cherokees might call to us and we might want to, you know, gamble a little....just to get in touch with our Native American roots.....
-----------------------
Which reminds me.....if you're an Okie blogger, don't forget to vote!!
----------------------
And for those who are curious: GDP = C + I + G + (X-M)
Real income = Nominal Income divided by the CPI x 100
And now you know.
-------------------------------
I have my first test in Macro tonight. If the relentless diarrhea and inability to eat all day says anything at all, I am going to flunk this test miserably. Actually, I don't think I'll flunk, but I am not deluding myself into thinking I'll get anything higher than a C, probably something lower. It's killing me to admit that, by the way.
I took practice tests all day yesterday and got an 80 on one and in the 60's on the rest. Last week the instructor told us that when he was in college, on the very first test he ever took in Macro, he answered all the questions completely opposite of what they were supposed to be. And sure enough, he jinxed me and I'll be danged if that's not what I did on the practice tests. Stewed Hamm graciously gave me some pointers for Economics on the whole and it helped, but I think I'm just too mathtarded to understand the graphs. I did, however, master which direction the shift in the supply and demand curves go. I think. We'll see. I may not, in reality. I think I have a handle on the terminology, though.
I think.
----------------------------
Goinglikesixty wanted to know Mrs. Weese's reaction to "We wook at my butt! See it?" According to Kady, she "just busted out waffing and waffing at me and said my daddy is funny!"
Mrs. Weese has told me several times how impressed she is at Kady's ability to convey humor, so I think she appreciated our ingenuity. We're not doing anything out of the ordinary - we're just a bunch of tacky, unrefined rednecks trying to help our kid learn her sightwords.
----------------------------
Several years ago my mom bought Tater's kids and my kids each a set of Schoolhouse Rock videos. Remember watching Schoolhouse Rock between cartoons on Saturday mornings? I loved those cartoons and still get "I'm Just a Bill" and "Conjunction Junction" stuck in my head from time to time. And who can forget "Interjection"? Our kids, however.....not so much impressed. The question I got once was, "Can we watch something that doesn't teach us so much?" Needless to say, the kids don't watch them very often.
At Parent/Teacher Conference this week Abby's teacher asked how Ab was doing on memorizing the Preamble to the Constitution. I was clueless as to what she was talking about, so putting Abby on the spot, I asked her right in front of her teacher how that was going for her.
"Oops" was her answer.
Sam's working on his 3's in multiplication and just cannot seem to grasp that concept. Oh the 2's were easy enough, but those 3's are killin' him.
Then it hit me the other night - we have all those Schoolhouse Rock videos! And we must put them to use! And use lots of exclamation points!
All day yesterday I had the song "3 is the Magic Number" on my head and today I have successfully sung the entire Preamble about 1627 times.
Sam was so entirely stoked to take his 3's test today - I hope he did good. I can sing you those 3's like nobody's business. And if only I'd remembered the Preamble song last semester when I was taking History, I'd have probably gotten an A.
Wonder if there's an Economics rock....
-------------------------
The Okie Blogger Round-up 2007 is OFFICIAL! In two weeks Tater, Paul and I will be yukking it up with other Okie bloggers from all over our great state. I can hardly wait! Last year was a blast and it was so wonderful meeting everyone - it looks like there will be even more there this year!
I asked Paul awhile back if he would go with me and he adamantly and instantly replied, "NO." So I asked Tater to escort me, as she did last year. She was on board because she's single now and hey, you never know if there's some cute Okie blogger who's just itchin' to date my little sister. Then all of the sudden Paul changed his mind and said he wanted to go, but Tater still wanted to go, so now it looks like the three of us are going. And since it's over so early this year we're thinking that the Cherokees might call to us and we might want to, you know, gamble a little....just to get in touch with our Native American roots.....
-----------------------
Which reminds me.....if you're an Okie blogger, don't forget to vote!!
----------------------
And for those who are curious: GDP = C + I + G + (X-M)
Real income = Nominal Income divided by the CPI x 100
And now you know.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Learning to learn
Kady has sight words in Kindergarten. Each week when the teacher sends home the weekly letter, I write the new ones on a notecard and add them to the pile that we store in a ziplock bag. We go over them occasionally. Like, when I'm not crying over my Macroeconomics book.
Her sight words up to this point are:
look
but
see
at
it
my
we
can
Kady was really struggling with these words and was getting to where she would cry before we'd even get them out of the bag.
So we made her laugh. Because that's what we do - what we can't control, we laugh at.
Kady went to her teacher today to take her sight word test and told Mrs. Weese that her momma and daddy showed her how to remember her sight words -
"We can wook at my butt! See it?"
We were sitting at the dinner table when she told us that she had told Mrs. Weese our little trick. Paul choked on his macaroni and I think corn shot out of Abby's nose.
Fortunately, she didn't moon Mrs. Weese like she did us last night.
Her sight words up to this point are:
look
but
see
at
it
my
we
can
Kady was really struggling with these words and was getting to where she would cry before we'd even get them out of the bag.
So we made her laugh. Because that's what we do - what we can't control, we laugh at.
Kady went to her teacher today to take her sight word test and told Mrs. Weese that her momma and daddy showed her how to remember her sight words -
"We can wook at my butt! See it?"
We were sitting at the dinner table when she told us that she had told Mrs. Weese our little trick. Paul choked on his macaroni and I think corn shot out of Abby's nose.
Fortunately, she didn't moon Mrs. Weese like she did us last night.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Math Ain’t Our Strong Suit
Of course, I would never say this to their faces, but my two oldest children are not good at math. Just like their mother. There's a special place in Heaven for us. Or at least, that's what I tell myself.
Tonight was Parent/Teacher Conferences at school.
5:00 - Conference with Sam's teacher, one of the sweetest women to ever exist. My mom met her when she had lunch with Sam for Grandparent's Day. She said, "Honestly, Kristin, I think I got a cavity just from talking to her! How can someone be that sweet??"
Sam has always been the one I haven't had to worry about regarding school - always nearly perfect grades, socially stellar, all-around good student. The teachers and kids love him. But this is 3rd grade and 3rd grade is when Abby started going to Hell in a handbasket. (Not literally, because you know she got a Come to Jesus Cake and all) 3rd grade is hard. It's a transitional year; it's when they start learning skills they need to succeed in Middle School and beyond. So when 3rd grade started for Sam, I expected some problems. Fortunately, they've been minor. Those multiplication tables are gonna get him yet. Hey, I started learning them in 3rd grade and it didn't click for me until 6th grade. See where they get it? See?
Poor guy, Sam scored low enough on his Iowa Basic Skills Test last year that he's one of the chosen few (and by "chosen few" I mean "bad at math") who gets to attend "8th Period" during the 3rd semester. Apparently the entire school's math scores were low and I totally applaud the administration and faculty for getting a handle on it and trying to change it. I would've applauded louder, maybe, had I not spawned a mathematical freak of my own who just can't understand why numbers exist, but that's neither here nor there. Fortunately, the school is planning on providing bus transportation home, which was my why my face initially screwed up into something that probably looked like an anus when she told us - because I could see me forgetting to pick him up, what with all the self-centered stress I seem to behold lately.
Other than that, Sam is just a nice, normal B student. Normal being a completely relative term, of course. He is my child, after all.
5:15 - Conference with Kady's teacher, the Best Kindergarten Teacher in the World By Default Because We Couldn't Have Cousin Courtney.
I have been stressing this week (No? Me? Really? And I'm normally so calm!) because, after visiting with another mom with a kid in Kady's class, I learned that her child had a reader and my child did not.
Now, Abby was a stay-at-home kid. She did not go to PreK or preschool other than a few days a week of Lab School at the college. So, when she was the first kid in her class to get a reader I totally attributed it to my mad parenting skillz. Then Sam, my only child to go to PreK, was one of the first in his Kindergarten class to get a reader and I attributed it to my mad parenting skillz AND my choice to put him in PreK. But now here's Kady. Have you met Kady? My child who was a diva from birth, who my mother swears is going to be a politician and I'm leaning more toward Evil Ruler of the Free World, my child who coins a clever and witty Kadyism at least 400 times a day? And also my child who doesn't have a reader and is nowhere close to getting one. Gasping, are you? Well, me too.
Mrs. Weese (it's actually Reese, but she'll always be Mrs. Weese to me forever and ever because I swear to you, after hearing how "wondowfol" Mrs. Weese is 67 times a minute, you'd call her Mrs. Weese forever and ever, too) assured me that she's sharp as a tack and brilliant and a good kid and just all-around amazingly amazing, but there's just some letters she doesn't know yet. And I'm okay with that. On the outside. On the inside, however, I am freaking the hell out, blaming myself for her not reading in the first month of school and wondering now if she'll end up pierced and leather-clad before she's 14 and will date a guy named Tread and will paint her bedroom black and vote Democrat. All because she didn't get a reader in the first month of school.
So far, she doesn't seem to be a bad at math, though. Of course, they're not really doing much with numbers yet, so there's still time.
5:45 - Conference with Abby's teacher, the woman who is preparing my daughter for the Big Bad Middle School that she'll be attending across the street next year, the woman who puts up with 18 stinky, buddingly hormonal tweens for 7 hours a day and the woman who has my utmost respect.
Abby is a good, solid B+ student. She's bad at math, though. (Betcha didn't see that one coming.) Yep, she scored low on her Iowa Tests, too. Her scores, however, were high enough on the low side that she doesn't qualify for 8th Period. The JOM lady (Indian lady, for you white folks) had an opening in the Native American Bad At Math program during school, though, and she's doing that 2 and 3 hours a week. Other than that, Abby is doing great. She's average and well-adjusted and giggly, which I hear is normal.
Paul was concerned about the kids's math scores as well, but he tends to not run around in circles, waving his arms in the air, screaming like a banshee. (Not that I know anyone who tends to overreact to stressful situations...) He tends to internalize his angst. He's quiet. Always has been, always will be. Oh, but boy howdy when we hit that parking lot, he let loose. It seems that if Paul has any say in it, our children will now be attending Mathematics Boot Camp. It's a new reality show on the Nerd Channel. I'm hosting. Once a week, the kids get in a big circle and start shouting out numbers in an attempt to take control of what is controlling us and then we all cleanse our chakras and do counting exercises.
Oh, and I also run around in circles, wave my arms in the air and scream like a banshee.
Tonight was Parent/Teacher Conferences at school.
5:00 - Conference with Sam's teacher, one of the sweetest women to ever exist. My mom met her when she had lunch with Sam for Grandparent's Day. She said, "Honestly, Kristin, I think I got a cavity just from talking to her! How can someone be that sweet??"
Sam has always been the one I haven't had to worry about regarding school - always nearly perfect grades, socially stellar, all-around good student. The teachers and kids love him. But this is 3rd grade and 3rd grade is when Abby started going to Hell in a handbasket. (Not literally, because you know she got a Come to Jesus Cake and all) 3rd grade is hard. It's a transitional year; it's when they start learning skills they need to succeed in Middle School and beyond. So when 3rd grade started for Sam, I expected some problems. Fortunately, they've been minor. Those multiplication tables are gonna get him yet. Hey, I started learning them in 3rd grade and it didn't click for me until 6th grade. See where they get it? See?
Poor guy, Sam scored low enough on his Iowa Basic Skills Test last year that he's one of the chosen few (and by "chosen few" I mean "bad at math") who gets to attend "8th Period" during the 3rd semester. Apparently the entire school's math scores were low and I totally applaud the administration and faculty for getting a handle on it and trying to change it. I would've applauded louder, maybe, had I not spawned a mathematical freak of my own who just can't understand why numbers exist, but that's neither here nor there. Fortunately, the school is planning on providing bus transportation home, which was my why my face initially screwed up into something that probably looked like an anus when she told us - because I could see me forgetting to pick him up, what with all the self-centered stress I seem to behold lately.
Other than that, Sam is just a nice, normal B student. Normal being a completely relative term, of course. He is my child, after all.
5:15 - Conference with Kady's teacher, the Best Kindergarten Teacher in the World By Default Because We Couldn't Have Cousin Courtney.
I have been stressing this week (No? Me? Really? And I'm normally so calm!) because, after visiting with another mom with a kid in Kady's class, I learned that her child had a reader and my child did not.
Now, Abby was a stay-at-home kid. She did not go to PreK or preschool other than a few days a week of Lab School at the college. So, when she was the first kid in her class to get a reader I totally attributed it to my mad parenting skillz. Then Sam, my only child to go to PreK, was one of the first in his Kindergarten class to get a reader and I attributed it to my mad parenting skillz AND my choice to put him in PreK. But now here's Kady. Have you met Kady? My child who was a diva from birth, who my mother swears is going to be a politician and I'm leaning more toward Evil Ruler of the Free World, my child who coins a clever and witty Kadyism at least 400 times a day? And also my child who doesn't have a reader and is nowhere close to getting one. Gasping, are you? Well, me too.
Mrs. Weese (it's actually Reese, but she'll always be Mrs. Weese to me forever and ever because I swear to you, after hearing how "wondowfol" Mrs. Weese is 67 times a minute, you'd call her Mrs. Weese forever and ever, too) assured me that she's sharp as a tack and brilliant and a good kid and just all-around amazingly amazing, but there's just some letters she doesn't know yet. And I'm okay with that. On the outside. On the inside, however, I am freaking the hell out, blaming myself for her not reading in the first month of school and wondering now if she'll end up pierced and leather-clad before she's 14 and will date a guy named Tread and will paint her bedroom black and vote Democrat. All because she didn't get a reader in the first month of school.
So far, she doesn't seem to be a bad at math, though. Of course, they're not really doing much with numbers yet, so there's still time.
5:45 - Conference with Abby's teacher, the woman who is preparing my daughter for the Big Bad Middle School that she'll be attending across the street next year, the woman who puts up with 18 stinky, buddingly hormonal tweens for 7 hours a day and the woman who has my utmost respect.
Abby is a good, solid B+ student. She's bad at math, though. (Betcha didn't see that one coming.) Yep, she scored low on her Iowa Tests, too. Her scores, however, were high enough on the low side that she doesn't qualify for 8th Period. The JOM lady (Indian lady, for you white folks) had an opening in the Native American Bad At Math program during school, though, and she's doing that 2 and 3 hours a week. Other than that, Abby is doing great. She's average and well-adjusted and giggly, which I hear is normal.
Paul was concerned about the kids's math scores as well, but he tends to not run around in circles, waving his arms in the air, screaming like a banshee. (Not that I know anyone who tends to overreact to stressful situations...) He tends to internalize his angst. He's quiet. Always has been, always will be. Oh, but boy howdy when we hit that parking lot, he let loose. It seems that if Paul has any say in it, our children will now be attending Mathematics Boot Camp. It's a new reality show on the Nerd Channel. I'm hosting. Once a week, the kids get in a big circle and start shouting out numbers in an attempt to take control of what is controlling us and then we all cleanse our chakras and do counting exercises.
Oh, and I also run around in circles, wave my arms in the air and scream like a banshee.
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