It was a dark and stormy night....

Okay, back when I was 17 and 18 and wanted to paint my bedroom black and I only wore black and wrote really dark, sad poems and stories about death and being sad and alone, WHY did I not do some actual research into Gothicism? Back then I had brain cells and the capacity for knowledge and now I have a skull full of oatmeal, three children, a husband, a dirty house and while I'm still intrigued by Gothicism, frankly, I'm tempted to pay one of those long-haired kids with black fingernail polish to write my paper.

Of course, I'd probably end up with pages of poetry about spiraling ever downward into a pit of despair and solitude and then I'd end up slapping the little punk and saying, "Dude, you have NO idea how deep that pit goes. No idea. Try doing Algebra and Macroeconics while intermittently being interrupted by a washing machine that backs up when it drains and a child who is puking in a trashcan in the next room. You spend a day doing that, THEN we'll talk despair."

Look at me, all fired up over an imaginary nerdy Goth who isn't going to write my paper.

Is 8:30am too early to start drinking? Eh, maybe I'll just paint my fingernails black and call it good.

A riddle

Q: What do you get when you give nine tweens free reign over the kitchen during your daughter's first big slumber party?

A: You get to clean puke off of your couch at 3am.





It's one thing to clean up your own kids's puke at 3am, but cleaning up someone else's kid's puke at 3am.....that's a whole 'nother ballgame. A ballgame to which I wish I had scalped the tickets at the gate and gone to the movies with the cash.

*shudder*


(Been busier'n a one-legged man in an ass-kickin' contest the last few days, but in the next day or two I hope to post pictures of this year's trip to the cornfield maze. Fortunately, there was no skunk in the maze this year, although TotTwo and I got lost about 14 gajillion times and I was this close to hollering "Skunk!" just so we could get the heck out of that maze that I was SO over by then. I let TotTwo lead, but after walking in circles for 30 minutes and coming right back to the same spot for the umpteenth time, he said, "Okay, Aunt Kiki, I'm handing this over you. Should we start praying?")

So very, very tired

My daughter, the birthday girl and host of the party, just went to bed. She took a Benadryl and some Motrin about an hour ago and it has done kicked in. I also sprayed her throat with Chloraseptic. If there are 8 little girls that come down with Strep next week I am going to feel SO bad. I actually think it's just her allergies, but still, you never know.

The other girls have decided that they are going to "dance off" until dawn. I have decided they are not human. They are loud, giggly aliens from a far off planet. They have to be - there's no other explanation. Their energy and stamina has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that they have obliterated 8 six-packs of soda since 3:30 this afternoon. Yep, they're aliens.

I just walked through the living room to go to the kitchen to get something caffeinated (because it's apparently working for them and I'm fading fast) and one of the girls nearly knocked me out with her flying limbs. I said, "Wow, you got happy feet. You ever gonna quit dancing?"

"Nope."

"You're crazy. You know that, right?"

"Yep. I've been told."

"Cool. Keep on keepin' on then."

If I could keep my eyes from crossing, I'd read 30 pages on Thomas Jefferson for AmerLit, but nah.... I think it's just time to go sit in the living room and sigh loudly every few minutes.

Like, OMG

One backed out, so there are nine little girls scattered throughout my house right now.

When the evening started, they all played together, one united forced dedicated solely to chasing my only son around the house relentlessly. He's such a little playa that he loved every second of it. But after the only boy left, the divisions began. And somehow, one tree in my backyard was named the "sad tree" and several girls took turns crying under it. They're freakin' ten and eleven - WHAT do they have to be sad about? Oh yeah, breathing, split ends and the end of the latest sale at the mall.

And WHEN did tweens learn to pop, lock and drop? And more importantly, WHY were they taught to pop, lock and drop? I am 34 years old and not once in my life have I popped or locked or dropped - unless you count popping popcorn, locking my toddlers in their room with a baby gate so I can take a shower without them eating tampons or 13 ponytail holders and dropping a Vanish Drop-In in the toilet tank. If that's popping, locking and dropping then yeah, I'm all over it - but this booty shakin'??? Omg. Just omg.

At this point I am undecided as to whether I want to chaperone their Proms in order to keep the popping and locking to a minimum or whether I just want to stay at home and pray the entire time they're shakin' their respective groove thangs.

LOL - Just now Abby's BFF Gabby, who has stayed over here several times, came out here. When I asked her what she was doin', she replied, "Ohhh, just watchin' 'em dirty dance." I nearly fell outta my chair laughing.

Right now, they seem to be one united force again. Of course, it was the spirit of the dance that brought them together, so ummm.....yeah.

It cracks me up to watch Abby in there dancing with them - she's so very white and so very redneck and she looks like Bambi with those long ol' legs goin' every which way and she is just so very, very uncoordinated. Bless her heart, she dances like her mother. And her father. Geez, our children have no chance whatsoever - they're destined to a life of sitting on the bleachers, watching their friends dance and just waiting for a slow song so they can get up and stop looking so pitiful. Unless they decide to clog or two-step. If they go that route, then they have a pretty good chance of having some mad skillz in the country and western/folk/dance at the local nursing homes and sidewalk sales category.

My niece, TotOne, is out here with me watching SuperFriends on Boomerang. She's the young'n of the group. The girl that didn't get to come was the other 4th grader, so that's left TotOne the odd girl out a few times this evening. But she's so good-natured and sweet that she hasn't gotten upset about it at all - she and I have had lots of time to snuggle and watch old cartoons and discuss if we were the WonderTwins, what we'd "activate" into. No, we aren't nerds at all. We are cool. I'm also thinking of teaching her to clog....


Oh and my husband? You're wondering where my husband is? He's the mayor of Wussville, if you ask me -

He left for the casino over 3 hours ago. I doubt I see him until I send him a text telling him the coast is clear and they're all finally asleep - probably some time around 4am. If I'm lucky.

DEFCON, dudes

According to Wikipedia:

"DEFCON 5:
This is the condition used to designate normal
peacetime military readiness. An upgrade in military preparedness is typically
made by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and announced by the United
States Secretary of Defense."

In other words, hang out, smoke 'em if you got 'em, chillllll and maybe take a nap or something.

"DEFCON 1:
This refers to maximum readiness. It is not certain whether this has ever been used, but it is reserved for imminent or ongoing attack on US military forces or US territory by a foreign military power. Use of nuclear missiles is authorized. "

In other words, HOLY SHIT, DUDES, ARE ARE ABOUT TO BE F'ED UP BEYOND BELIEF!!!

Also notice, "Use of nuclear missiles is authorized."


Right now, the state of things here at Diva Central is DEFCON 1 - we are mere hours away from being invaded by 10 - count 'em, TEN - 9, 10 and 11 year old little girls. Did you read that? Are you comprehending what I wrote? TEN PRE-HORMONAL LITTLE GIRLS. IN MY HOUSE. I have prepared the nuclear missiles and napalm. You know, just in case.

I was totally smoking one of them mary jane cigarettes the day I agreed to this.

I sent out a letter to the parents in the invitations basically letting them know that Paul and I are normal people and not axe murderers, involved in organized crime, nor are we mimes. (Yes, I really put that in the letter. Abby said it was a huge hit with the moms, btw.) I let the parents know that if they wanted to meet us beforehand, all they had to do was call. Hey, I wouldn't let my kid go to a home where I don't know the parents and I don't expect them to either. Most of the girls, I know their moms, but a few I didn't. When I made phone calls the other night one mom took me up on the offer to meet me beforehand.

That is why I cleaned house in nice clothes and makeup this morning. Normally I clean house in my pajamas. Wait, I don't normally clean house.

Part of me is actually looking forward to tonight - the part of me that still remembers my first slumber party in the 5th grade and how we drank "suicides" of various sodas out of baby bottles (*sigh* yes....real baby bottles) and watched a slasher movie that was probably WAY too graphic for a bunch of 10 and 11 year olds. It's also the part of me that also remembers the slumber party I had when we were Sophomores in high school and we made a "commercial" for a workout video and the party our Junior year where we did a spoof on "Wayne's World" and yes, if I ever get them digitized you can bet I'm going to post it because they are totally that funny.

I guess it's the little girl in me that is looking forward to tonight.

But the mom in me, the responsible adult in me - the woman in me who has cleaned her house from top to bottom because what if the girls' moms quiz them over the state of cleanliness in my bathroom, then by cracky I better be reported about glowingly, dammit - is looking forward to this like I look forward to pap smears and dental appointments and most country music.




So it's a good thing the little girl is stronger today. I have slept in my rattiest pajamas all week so that my new pinky striped pj pants will be clean for tonight. Chances are, I will be banished out here to my office and will not be invited to partake of the giggling and make up'ing and only God knows what else, but I'll be ready. Just in case.

Picture that!

As promised, pictures from the last few days in my insane life.



This is me getting my prestigious "Okie" at the Round-Up. As I stood up to go forward and fetch the award, Mike said, "Say something funny!" I stuttered and stammered and basically sounded like I was having a seizure.

I write. Speaking isn't my forte, at least not impromptu. I'm one of those people who thinks of witty retorts and comebacks like, thirty minutes after the fact.

Maybe the reason I write is because frankly, I'm a little bit simple...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


This is a shot of the flamethrower my mom used to light the candles on Abby's birthday panbread.

Is that not a crazy big flame for a Bic lighter?

To top it off, she used trick candles and nearly caused Abby to pass out. Which, of course, made me laugh because I'm sick like that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



This is what it looks like when you give an 11 year old a Disney Jams 9 CD. Just for the record.

Frankly, that's what I'd look like if you gave me one, too. That is a freakin' awesome CD! I totally stole borrowed it from her room this morning after she left for school.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




This is our darling Abbygirl the day after she turned 11. Look closely (but not close enough to notice the fingerprints on the storm door) and notice that she's wearing very darling red ribbons in her sweet little dogears, an "I *heart* Oklahoma" t-shirt - and skull earrings.

That's my girl.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here she is again, hanging out and posing under her New! Purple! Bed!

This bed is a gargantuan bed! I can stand flat-footed under this bed and my head touches the bottom of the mattress. Yes, I realize I am very short, but how many of you have a bed you can stand under? I didn't think so. And also, this bed is very, very purple. I love me some purple, but this bed almost is too much for even me.

My dad actually made the bed for his grandson who was living in the dorms at OSU at the time. It is made of black metal and constructed for a room with 900 foot ceilings. Unfortunately, our house only came with like, 8 foot ceilings and Abby has enough room to sit kind of hunched over on the bed while her head grazes the ceiling. But ohhhh how she loves her new purple bed that required four cans of primer and six cans of purple Krylon to cover the black that my dad had painted it previously. And did you know that spray-painting a huge bed using six cans of Krylon will give your husband a big blister on his index finger? Yeah, I didn't either. Sure glad he turned down my offers to help paint that bed...


I took tons of pictures of her while we were trying to ignore Paul's cursing of the New! Purple! Bed! as he put it together and didn't take any shots of the finished product. I will tomorrow. I'd do it now, but she's asleep and I don't think snapping pictures in her dark room is conducive to restful sleep. The next project is to paint her desk and dresser aqua. So we can all puke when we walk in her room because the cuteness factor will be too much for mere mortals and can only be tolerated by prepubescents and people who are colorblind.

Too cool for cupcakes

Yesterday our darling Abbygirl turned 11. Yeah, I took pictures. No, I don't feel like getting up right now and getting the camera and putting the pictures on the computer. Not tonight. Tomorrow looks good - pencil me in.

I gave up a long time ago on taking cupcakes to my childrens' classes for any kind of party. Heck, I'll hardly make cupcakes at home. Why am I such a mean mother? Because invariably those little snots will lick off the icing and throw the cupcake away. If you're a mom, you totally know I'm right. And because of school rules that protect our children from ptomaine, botulism and cooties, we can't home-bake treats anymore and have you bought cupcakes at Wal*Mart lately? Too dang expensive for two dozen cupcakes that everyone just slobbers on then throws away.

So I take Little Debbie cakes, Hostess snacks and those itty bitty cans of pop and I am the coolest mom on earth. Nothing makes elementary school kids happier than a Twinkie and a little can of Coke. Well, the only thing that would make them happier would be if Hannah Montana hand-delivered the Twinkie and the Coke, but they get me instead and heck, I'm almost as cool. Okay, I'm not, but I'll still have to do.

I went to work early and left early in order to have time to go home and change into some moderately cool clothes - yeah, like I have tons of those lying around - before entering my eldest child's classroom, the last classroom she'll have in elementary school, the classroom that is daily shaping her tween life into something that will hopefully succeed in the big bad middle school across the street.

If I hadn't sworn off kids altogether (except the ones I'm related to, of course), yesterday would've made me reconsider substitute teaching again. I fell in love with those 5th graders yesterday! Something has happened to them this year - I think it's called "maturity." In Kindergarten, when I went on field trips and to parties, all the kids wanted to hug on me and hold my hand and "Please, Mrs. Abby's Mom, sit by me! Sit by me!" and first grade they were still pretty cute and lovey, but by 2nd grade I had become the enemy. They were aloof and guarded and I was devastated because just a couple of years before I had been worthy of hand-holding.

But yesterday - and I may mist up while I write this, so bear with me - these kids acted like little miniature adults. Yeah, they were wound up, but duh, I had just brought them chocolate, sugar and caffeine and had totally gotten them out of a whole half hour of work, but no kidding, those kids were (I can't believe I'm writing this...) mature. Yes, I said mature. They spoke to me, made eye contact, thanked me and I was no longer the evil mother of a classmate. I think they thought of me as a person. It was weird. One boy, who reminded me SO much of the kid who was the class clown in my class, entertained me the entire time since his desk had been pulled off away from everyone else's. I totally knew why he was back there, but I appreciated his sense of humor. I wanted to tell him to shush a couple of times because I could see the teacher was getting frustrated with him, but at the same time I was secretly impressed with his humor skillz. I like me some funny, ya know.

One of the little girls that is coming to The! Slumber! Party! this weekend came up to me and told me excitedly that she gets to come because well, her mom knows me from Sam's class because her sister is in there and like, well, she just like, knows me and all and stuff. One boy that I've known since they were in Kindergarten (his mom did my awesomely awesome header design - Hi, Lil!) has always been quiet and shy around me, but yesterday he actually spoke to me and asked how I was. Did ya get that? He asked how I was! Like, "Hey, how are you?" And I was stunned for just a moment before I stammered out, "Well, I'm, uh, well, I'm fine!" and I wanted to like, start up a conversation and ask him how life was and how was school and did he have a girlfriend and did he have a college picked out and then I remembered that kids that age are hormonal and moody and at any moment I could again be deemed uncool and decided that less is more and for a split second almost did that tip your head back all aloof and nonchalant and say, " Yo. 'Sup." but then just decided to go with, "How are you?" I think I did okay. He didn't roll his eyes, put his fingers in an "L" up to his forehead or anything. I took that as a good sign.

Abby's *Chance* still won't talk to me much. I asked Ab awhile back why *Chance* won't talk to me. She shrugged. I said, "Well, tell me! Seriously. Am I doing something wrong?" She said, "Mom, you're... well, you're my mom. I think he's secretly scared of you." The boy is taller than I am, which is no big feat, I'll grant ya, but he's scared of me? Oh, the power of motherhood. I have the ability to frighten 11 year old boys by merely existing and having a daughter. Yay me.

Anyway, after they had inhaled their treats they had a science test to study for, so I asked if I could just hang out in the back of the room until time to pick up Kady over in the other building. I sat back there and just observed these kids who were once little and chubby and cute and lispy and maybe said their r's funny and cried when their mommas left them in the mornings and marveled at how, in just 6 years they have grown up into young men and women. Oh my gosh, I totally sound like a parent, don't I? I sat back there in a chair that wasn't so incredibly small like the ones in Kindergarten and took in the ambience of the room. They had decorated their "lockers" which are actually still just cubbies, but omg, don't call them cubbies, Mawm, gawww. (Abby's looks like a shrine to all that is High School Musical. If Zach Efron offered her koolade and a trip to Guyana she would SO be there, I just know it.) I looked around the room at the way they interacted with each other and their teacher, the way they really listened in class, they way they snuck glances at each other, the way the girls flipped their hair and how the boys cleared their throats before it was their turn to read a question and it totally hit me that my little girl is growing up and so are all her friends.

And probably, they really were mature enough to eat the entire cupcake, but like, who wants a cupcake in the 5th grade when there's that slim chance that Hannah Montana or the entire cast of High School Musical might walk in at that very moment and like, they'd all die if they were caught like, eating a cupcake.

Gaw.

Blown Away

Oops, I did it again.

And once again I am honored, humbled and utterly shocked.

Honored that ya'll think I'm funny.

Humbled that y'all think I'm funny.

Shocked because I figured that if there was a category for Whiniest Blog in Oklahoma, I'd have won it by a landslide. Or maybe Blog That Bitches the Most About Algebra. Blog With the Most of The Diarrhea, sure. But Best Humor Blog? Well, yeah, I'm shocked.

Thank you. And God bless us, every one.

-----------------------------

Melessa, you are still so sweet you give me cavities.

-----------------------------

Shannon, I agree with Melessa - if you post about needing to lose weight ever again, I will kick your skinny butt.

-----------------------------

I have so many things I want to write about tonight, but it's after midnight and I still have a Lit assignment to turn in.

But if I had time, I'd write about these things......

Like my sister drawing my children in close for a heart-to-heart talk about choosing a career that doesn't involve wearing a hair net and glaring at people in the hospital corridor. Because, lemme tell ya, that was just about the funniest thing I've heard in a long time.

(By the way, if your job involves you wearing a hair net to work, let me just say [before the hatemail flies], I applaud you for working and having a job. Secondly, the hair net does not make the man. Or woman. It's the glaring at people in the corridor that makes you a nasty person. If the hair net makes you so angry you have to glare at people, find a hair net-less job. It's also my sister who makes situations so dang hilarious.)

I'd also like to write about the $1600 JACKPOT I WON LAST NIGHT! It was awesome. It was also a very good thing I am well over The Diarrhea because as it was, I nearly shat myself.

If I had time, I'd tell you that my husband is a saint among men. Not only has the guy been sorely deprived of sex (because his wife is so overwhelmed that sex? What's this sex you speak of? Have I ever done this "sex" thing and if I did, did I like it?) and deserves a medal just for that, but he also sent me shopping today. ON MY OWN. As in, BY MYSELF. I went to the mall alone with a purse full of money, explicit instructions from the man I married to buy new shoes that don't hurt my feet, new fall clothes and "some of them Croc shoes you like so much." And I also got a caramel Frappuccino and it was yummier than usual, I think because I didn't have to share it with my coffee-addicted 5 year old.

And did you know that Toys R Us is WAY more enjoyable without children?

Yep, if I had time I'd write about all of that.

-------------------------------

Lastly, before I delve into the exciting world of Thomas Paine and his religious beliefs, I'd like to ask a favor.

My cousin and his wife had their first baby on Friday. Ottawa County's newest Democrat is currently in the NICU. She was a few days overdue and had a little "accident,"as we call them in our house (maybe she caught The Diarrhea from her cousin?) and well, the little darling has The Pneumonia now. Today they took her breathing tube out and while her momma and daddy haven't gotten to hold her yet, they did get to kind of prop her up for a proper showing-off through the window to family out in the hall.

She's doing good, getting better and stronger every day, but if you're a pray-er, please pray she continues to do so. Also pray that her momma and daddy get some rest and comfort and strength.

Keith, it won't be long until she's turning 11 and you get a blister on your finger from spray-painting her new bed purple. And you get absolutely mushy when she tells you you're her hero. And Alyssa, it will be like, day after tomorrow when you want to wring her neck when she tells you that you're dorky and can you please not wear that shirt when you come down to the school next time? And soon, when she falls asleep in your arms, you'll not be able to express how that feels in adequate enough words, but it will honestly be one of the best things you'll ever feel in your life.

But in the meantime, rest. Know we're thinking of you and praying for you.

-----------------------------

By the way, Abby turns 11 tomorrow. Her daddy has a blister on his very purple index finger from using 6 cans of Krylon to spray paint her new bed. The gigantic bed that is gigantically gigantic. And yeah, she told me I was dorky just today. But when I tucked her in awhile ago and she hugged me so tight and told me I was "secretly cool"......well, it's honestly one of the best things I've ever felt in my life.

When you're sliding into home...

Ugh. I got sent home from work today. Not because I'm a bad employee, but because I'm a germy one.

Abby didn't go to school today because she had The Diarrhea (She would die a thousand deaths if she knew that I'd just announced the state of her intestines this morning to the entire World Wide Web, so don't tell her, 'kay?). When I tucked her in last night she said her stomach was rolling and cramping and considering Tots One and Two were out of school yesterday, I figured it was her turn. Yep, this morning, it was official - she had The Diarrhea.

Ever noticed how it's not, "I have diarrhea"? No, it's, "I have The Diarrhea." I always feel like when someone says they have The Diarrhea, the phrase should be followed by a dramatic "duh duh DUMMMMMMM." Like my papa used to say, "He's got The Gout," or "She come down with The Shingles,"not just plain gout or shingles, mind you, but The Gout and The Shingles. Bad stuff The Gout. And The Diarrhea. Duh duh DUMMMMM...

Looks like I have a case of The Digression.

Annnyway, Mom offered to take Abby with her for the day so I could go to work, then work, then class. I got around, got four of the kids off to school, sent Abby and some Imodium with Mom and finished getting ready for work. By the time I left I was feeling kinda, ya know, upset. Just kind of a roll-y, ache-y feeling in my guts. But forge on, did I, because I had not only one work to go to today, but two. Plus Macro.

About halfway to town my head started pounding and the rolling in my guts was accompanied by a feeling like I wanted to hurl up everything I'd eaten for the past month. I got to work, telling myself that some Tylenol and a Coke would fix me right up, but instead I dumped my purse on my desk and ran straight to the bathroom. Ugh. I went back to my desk after purging from every available orifice and took two Tylenol. Then I laid my head against the back of my chair and closed my eyes and waited for the Grim Reaper.

A caseworker walked by and asked if I was meditating. My grunt in reply was enough to make her come back and ask if I was okay. When I told her I wasn't feeling too hot, you should've seen that woman do a quick backstep away from me. Bless her heart, I don't even think she realized she reacted as if I'd just hollered, "Unclean! Unclean!" like a leper back in Bible days. She told me to go home, told me our supervisor (who was in a meeting) wouldn't mind and said, "Honey, as bad as you look, no one is going to ask you to do anything anyway. Just go home." So I did.

I texted Paul as I was leaving the parking lot to tell him I was going home for the day. He replied with, "U got the shits?" He's so eloquent, that man of mine. I replied, "Yah Gonna barf 2. Anything else u would like to know?" He didn't reply to that one. He was sympathetic, I was sure, considering that last weekend he had to call his boss from the toilet at work because he literally couldn't get off of it. Yeah, this is one fun bug. I called Mom and told her I was going home and that's when she announced that she wasn't feeling real great either and thought she was going to lie down for awhile. I offered to come get Abby, but she said she was fine and to just go home and go to bed. So I did.

I slept pretty much the rest of the day. I woke up long enough to watch about 45 minutes of All My Children, but considering I haven't watched it in weeks, I didn't have a clue what was going on and why is Annie's brother so sinister anyway? And when did this JR/Greenlee possible WonderTwin force thing come about? I need TiVo.

I woke up about 30 minutes before Paul got home, ate some Cheetos and thought about working on my Lit test, but the couch looked so inviting I just laid there watching The Barefoot Contessa. I think. It may have been something else. I wasn't all that coherent. It was a bleu cheese souffle, whoever made it. By the time the kids got off the bus, Mom and Abby were here, we loaded some boxes in Mom's car, I fixed Paul and her a sandwich and they left because - as if a rampant intestinal virus running through the family like wildfire isn't enough - the new owners of Tater's Farmette take possession tomorrow and Tater's still not completely moved out quite yet.

God bless Tater's soul, she brought out dinner for the kids and I on one of her trips back or forth from town. I was so hungry by then, but now I'm totally regretting eating. My stomach's rolling, I have indigestion worse than when I was 8 months pregnant and I just want to go to bed.

I missed my Macro class tonight. Hmh. The Diarrhea was kind of worth it.

Oh what a beautiful morning

5:30 - "Why don't you staaaaaaay with me...." Frickin' frackin' alarm.....where's the frickin' frackin' button? Stop singing you stupid country singer.....ah, peace.


5:37 - "Why don't you staaaaaaay with me..." Ah, ha, stopped you before you went further in your stupid mushy love song because I slept the last 7 minutes with my cell phone in my hand. HA! I beat you stupid country singer alarm.


5:39 - AGH! I dozed off! Must. Get. Up. Dude, it's hot in here.....and I need caffeine.....too hot for coffee.......sweet tea it is......


5:40 - Shhh, Kristin! Open the tea bag slowwwly.....open microwave quietly....it's too dang early for those kids to be up.....dangit! Why can't they make microwaves with quiet doors?


5:42 - Guess I'll unload the dishwasher while the tea brews......man, I gotta pee.....no, if I flush it will wake up the kids.....why does flushing wake up children? Raging thunderstorms don't wake them up, but a flushing toilet will.....weird kids..... Oh bless Abby's heart, she unloaded the dishwasher last night. I sure love that kid. Well, I should load it back up.....AGH! Stupid loud dinging bell on microwave! But...the tea's done....Where's that pitcher......ah, put up, how novel.....Man, even the sugar container is loud this morning.....one scoop.....two scoops......(yawn)......two scoops.....three scoops......oh heck, half of another won't hurt, might even help....stir, stir, stir.....seems like there's a lot of sugar in there..... Ice, I need ice.....ice, ice, baby (does Vanilla Ice impersonation in middle of kitchen) Shhh, giggling will wake up children.......Dude, ice is LOUD......drop ice softly.......killing me softly with his song.....what a stupid song......Okay, tea pouring.......wow, that's sweet......


5:50 - Where are my white panties? Gotta wear white panties with white pants......is it too late in the year for white pants? Screw it, I'm wearing white pants......black sandals, though.....is it too late in the year for sandals? Who cares, it's hot......No, those aren't white, those are purple....where's the flashlight? Great, flashlight, no batteries......Okay, if these aren't the white ones I'm wearing them anyway......


5:54 - Turn on shower......ha, that's the only thing I'm turning on these days....Poor Paul.....he's a saint, that man.......Oooh, gotta peeeeeee! Don't flush, don't flush, don't flush......


5:56 - Water cold, better leave it, probably the only time today I'll be cool.......I'm gonna wash that man right outta my hair, hee hee, 'cept I don't use shampoo, so technically I'll condition that man right outta my hair.......dang, I'm out of shower gel.......Iew, that soap smells like butt! How does it smell good on Paul and smell that bad in here? Bleh. Okay, guess I'll use Baby Magic Baby Wash, I need to be babied today.......mmmmm, smells like babies.....hmh, wonder if Alyssa's gonna have that baby today? Storm front moving in, good chance......Oh crap, don't forget to shave, you're wearing capris......where's the razor? Ah, wayyyyy up there, how'd it get up there? Either someone's been using my razor or I put it up there to hide it and just forgot.....Hmh, no foreign hairs.......Think I'll use Abby's raspberry shave gel.......I hate raspberries.....I hate shaving......la, la, la, la......Okay, agh, better get movin', shaving takes a long time, no wonder I don't do it anymore.......


6:20 - Ten minutes till time to get the kids up......oh my gosh, it's freakin' HOT in here.......if I fan the door will it wake up the kids? Oh heck, who cares, I'm going to die if I don't get some cool air......whew......Man, I don't wanna go to work today...... So much algebra to do...... Hopefully someone will barf before 7am........Crap, only enough deodorant for one pit? Where's that thing of Secret......ah, one pit smells like Oriental somethingorother and one pit smells like baby powder, sweet.......Perfume.........moisturizer......... Good gosh, need. more. airrrrrrr......


6:27 - "Well, good morning, TotOne....whatcha need?" "Need to pee." "Alrighty then, have fun with that." "Aunt Kiki, when will my momma be here?" "Some time before the bus runs, she's brining you some clothes." "Okay. You smell good." "Thanks, angel. I always knew you were my favorite."

6:30 - "WAKE UUUUUP, CHILLLLLDRENNNNNNN!!" Heehee, it is wrong that I find humor in blinding children with their lights in the morning? Yeah, I think it is. But it's so much fun! "Boys! No you CANNOT pee at the same time and no, son, you can't just pee in the bathtub!" Boys are sooooo strange.....Paul would ask the same thing, though.....males in general are strange..... "Kady, honey, get dressed. You can play Polly Pockets tonight. Abby, are you moving? Good. BOYS STOP WRESTLING!!" My gosh, they've been up 5 minutes and they're wrestling already....

6:45 - "Pauuuuullllll, wake uuuuuup! Ooh, how can you be covered up to your ears in that blanket, honey? It's hot! No, no one's barfing and if anyone does, I get dibs on staying home with 'em. Get up." Back to put on makeup........concealer.....LOTS of concealer......when did those circles under my eyes get so dark? Okay, maybe blush will take away from the circles.....woah, too much blush, now I look like a prostitute......de-blush! de-blush! Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! "BOYS! IF YOU TOUCH EACH OTHER AGAIN I WILL BEAT YOU UNTIL YOU CRY!" Eyeliner.....eyeshadow......mascara will have to wait, it's too hot in here....."Paul, don't tell me you need in here to shower!" "Uh, yeah." "WHY didn't you do that last night after the kids went to bed? You can't shower in here, sorry. Go to Ab's bathroom. You'll smell like raspberries all day." "Aunt Kiki? Why did Uncle Pa-Paul kick that pile of laundry in the hall?" "Oh, because maybe it just looked like it needed to be kicked." Or maybe it looked like me and oooh yeah, he's mad. He really should've showered last night....doofus....


6:55 - "YAYA!!" "TotOne, TotTwo! Get up here and get dressed!" "Good morning, sister." (unintelligible grunt) "Kady! Hair! Now! Abby I'm plugging in the straightening iron, put on your earrings somewhere ELSE, child! KADY! HAIR! NOWWW! Paul, just because I don't have a shirt on does not mean I'm advertising anything. I means I'm hot. Get!"

7:05 - "ABBY!! HAIR! Did you wash your hair last night? It doesn't look too clean. *sigh*"

7:10 - "KIDS! Get your backpacks! SHOES, Kady! You have to wear shoes and yes, they have to match. Sam, you do NOT need a jacket, boy! TotTwo, quit touching your cousin!! Tater, go on, I have things completely under control here."

7:15 - "Mawwwwwm! Can we go now?" "NO! It's 20 minutes until the bus comes. Go play. TotOne, don't kiss the dog. Go wash your hands........ with soap! BOYS STOP KICKING EACH OTHER!"

7:20 - I need a drink, sweet tea ain't cuttin' it this morning....

7:25 - "Kids, go on down the driveway. And stay out of the road, k? HUGS! You can't leave without hugging me! I love you!" "WE LOVE YOU!"

7:30 - Well, no one barfed. Guess I have to go to work.....Okay, bus, where are you? I'll put some lotion on my horribly dry, but freshly shaved, raspberry-smelling legs while I wait.....oh yeah, I see razor burn in my future......ooh, good, the bus.....okay, don't forget mascara.....ooh wow, my hair dried.....I look like Phyllis Diller.......where's that spray bottle......product, product and more product.....I'm the poster child for hair product......WHY IS IT SO HOT IN HERE? I think I'm going through the change.....maybe I should go back to bed......


7:50 - I love hairspray. My life would be so incomplete without hairspray. I bet the pilgrims had bad hair.


8:00 - Earrings.....where's my watch.....forget the watch......perfume......still too much blush, might as well go stand on a street corner as much blush as I have on......oh yeah, mascara......more hairspray......ooh, gotta go clean my glasses now, that last spray was kinda wild.....

8:05 - Man, I wish someone had barfed this morning..... guess I'll do algebra until time to go......now I think I'm gonna barf......if I skip the algebra I'll have time to get a coffee before work.......no, better do the algebra, tonight's the premiere of Cavemen and heaven forbid I miss that......why did I ever admit I was going to watch Cavemen on my blog?