I woke up around 3 this morning to the sound of thunder. I saw quite a bit of lightning and decided to get up and unplug the computers and Wii. I peed, got a drink, checked on the kids, looked outside to see only rain and went back to bed.
I woke up at 5 to the sound of my husband banging on something in the fireplace repeatedly. Over and over it sounded like he was driving steel stakes into cement blocks with a large, loud mallet. I closed my eyes and covered up, then realized I was freezing. I curled up in a ball and tried to tune out the sound of my husband's attempt to drive me utterly freaking insane. Finally the lack of warmth got to my bladder and I got up to pee. By that time Paul was done murdering whatever he had been stabbing in the fireplace and I met him mid-living room. He said, "You let the fire go out." I glared at him and said, "You fell asleep in the recliner. I put wood on it before I went to bed. Totally not my fault. You were up at some point to move to the couch, you could've put more wood on then." The reply I got was, "Wow, someone woke up grumpy this morning." As I continued down the hall toward the bathroom I resisted the urge to flip him off.
After peeing and deciding that the need to bring my body temperature up to a normal living human level overrode the need for caffeine at........crap, it was only 5am....... I went back to bed and turned on the bedroom TV then laid there and shook until the blankets warmed up. We were only under a freezing rain advisory and I assumed it was still raining.
Paul came in with an armload of wood about that time and declared it to be "slicker'n greased owl poop" outside.
Within 30 minutes we'd been upgraded to "ICE STORM WARNING" and I was begging Paul to stay home. I hate it when he thinks he's invincible in a 4-wheel-drive truck and will head out in anything. But no, he felt obligated to go because he knew of several other security officers who lived further out than we did. He called the Security Manager and they decided that yeah, they'd both go in in case no one else did.
He called me when he got there - they had 3 guests playing in the casino. When he called me an hour and a half later, they had none. I called to check on Mom and she informed me she was without power, which meant Tater was, too. My Sunday School teacher called to tell us the church was without power and services has been cancelled. I said, "Well, I'm sitting here with the mother of our Lord and Savior in my lap and we'd already decided we were leaving the manger to someone else this morning." There were a few seconds of really weird silence before I added, "Uhm, Kady's Mary in the nativity...." and then he laughed till he stopped. Right after that, the kids' SS teacher called to tell us that all 3 power substations were down in town. When I hung up with him I called Mom to tell her the situation with the substations and continued rocking the Holy Mother while we watched Smurfs on Boomerang.
We have drunk a lot of hot chocolate, I've started reading Dear John by Nicholas Sparks (which is taking off verrrrry slowly and leaving me unimpressed thus far), I've taken my Computers final, I've taken some pictures of the ice, and I've broken up about 96 fights over the Wii that mysteriously causes everyone to pick on Kady. Bless her heart, she's such a whiner sometimes. Okay, most of the time.
Paul hates soup. Any kind of soup. I can get away with potato soup more often than any other kind, but even that's pushing it. But today is just begging me to make a big pot of vegetable soup and a pan of cornbread. He can eat a sandwich if he's going to be a baby about it. I, however, am eating soup.
That is, if the electricity stays on.......my internet connection is being iffy already....
Sunday, December 09, 2007
Wii should move
I've heard that the reason for the nationwide shortage of Wiis this Christmas is because older folks are buying them for health reasons and using them in lieu of a gym membership. I don't doubt it - the day after I boxed the holy livin' sh*t out of my husband, my shoulders were sore as all get out.
But I think the physical fitness aspect of it is lost on my children, especially the youngest one. I walked into the living room a few minutes ago to find her on her back in the middle of the floor, lazily waving the remote in the air. I looked at the TV to see her Mii (aka Wii avatar) golfing.
"Kady Dawn, what are you doing?"
"Ummm....goffing."
"You are supposed to get up and move when you play the Wii."
"Why? Daddy was bowling in his recwinew wast night. He got a stwike."
But I think the physical fitness aspect of it is lost on my children, especially the youngest one. I walked into the living room a few minutes ago to find her on her back in the middle of the floor, lazily waving the remote in the air. I looked at the TV to see her Mii (aka Wii avatar) golfing.
"Kady Dawn, what are you doing?"
"Ummm....goffing."
"You are supposed to get up and move when you play the Wii."
"Why? Daddy was bowling in his recwinew wast night. He got a stwike."
Saturday, December 08, 2007
I'm not dead
Okay, so I hear that people have actually been writing down my web address from up at the Park of Lights and have been checking me out here at my little home on the web. Well, I hope y'all had time to look around a bit and really look for the good stuff because I'm afraid there's not been a lot of quality posting as of late. Just randomly pick some older stuff from the archives and don't give up on me after reading what's on my front page.
Twice in the last two weeks I've been called "funnier than hell" if that accounts for anything at all. Of course, like my 11-year-old pointed out - "Uh...Mom? Hell isn't funny at all, so is it really a compliment?" Yes. I'm taking it as one.
Oh, and leave a comment, will ya? You can even leave 'em anonymously, just so long as you leave 'em. I'd love to see who's stopping in because of a camouflage trailer and 8 pink plastic flamingos.
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I have taken my Macro final and my Lit final. I felt pretty decent about the Macro test really. Well, until that last page, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. I really should be taking my Computers final like, right now, but eh, I'm posting this then I'm going to bed. I'm scheduled to take the cursed Algebra final on Tuesday at 1:00. Prayers, good thoughts and maybe mailing chocolate directly to my home or sending me a bouquet of daisies to work would be appreciated. I don't expect to pass it, nor do I expect to pass the class, but I'm taking the final just so I can tell people I didn't totally wuss out. I just moderately wussed out. Moderately is definitely better than totally. Trust me.
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For your viewing pleasure....... bad pictures of my display at the Park of Lights.
Here it is without so much flash.
I'll have to try to grab some video of me walking around it one of these afternoons. That way I can point out all the nuances and special touches.
I didn't manage to get any pics of the clothesline where ol' Santa hung his duds, so yeah, I need to video it for y'all. I'll try to get to that this week, barring we're not actually entering the next Ice Age as the meterologists around here are predicting....
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Sam had his first basketball game today. I cannot believe how much more improved he is from last year! His coach last year was great, but the coach this year is even better. She's teaching them basics and fundamentals and whaddaya know, he came home from practice one night and said, "Mom! You are never gonna believe this, but now I know what a layup is!!" Every time his coach told him to work on his lay-ups last year he was too embarrassed to ask him what a lay-up was, much less how to work on one. So I really have to give Coach Summers some serious kudos for teaching my boy some mad basketball skillz.
He fouled a kid today and the kid got free throws. There were fouls all over the place from all the boys on both teams, but for some reason Sam's was bad enough to let them have free shots. He was kinda proud of it, but I told him that it really wasn't something to be all that proud of considering it could get him kicked out of a game. I guess it goes without saying that he's a much more aggressive player this year, too.
They lost 29-20, but they brought it up from 11 to 20 in the first few minutes after the half, so I was impressed at whatever she said to them during halftime. It made an impression, whatever it was.
He got the crap knocked out of him at one point and I just so happened to have caught that moment on video. Paul had to work today and when I was showing him what I had recorded he kept having me replay the part where Sam hit the floor and scooted a foot backwards on his booty. Paul said, "Why didn't you get up and knock the sh*t outta him, son?" Sam shrugged and said, "Eh, it wasn't worth it. The refs were biased anyway." I don't know where he wouldve heard that........
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I left the house yesterday morning at 8:45 only to get on the highway and hear my phone ring. It was the school's number and I wondered who had puked already. It was Abby telling me she had spilled a carton of milk all over herself in the cafeteria and could I bring her some clean clothes? I turned around, went back to the house, dug around in that cave she calls a room, found some clothes that I think were clean and only a little wrinkled (they were in her closet, but that means nothing in Abbyland), took them to her, then went to town. I got almost to the turnpike entrance when I remembered I hadn't picked up my work study check at NEO, so I turned around, picked that up, then decided to go ahead and cash it since I was going shopping, then when I was in the bank drivethru felt my stomach rumble and remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast, pulled into McDonald's drivethru, ordered a McGriddle and a sweet tea and waited for what seemed like 4 hours while they butchered the hog to make the sausage patty and squeezed the chicken for the egg to make a perfectly round and quite disturbing egg patty and FINALLY got on the turnpike at 10. Then I'll be danged if I didn't pass right by the exit where the Harley shop was - the HD shop, Academy Sports and Toys R Us were my main reasons for going to Joplin.
Rather than turn around, I went on into Joplin and straight to Academy Sports where I bought my son a Benjamin pellet air rifle that the salesguy told me shoots at such a high velocity that the pellets will pierce the skin and could possibly kill someone in the right situation. Oy. My husband couldn't figure out why I had such reservations...
But seeing the look on Paul's face when I showed him the gun last night was pretty awesome. He had a Benjamin when he was a kid. That's why the squirrel population in the backwoods of Wyandotte is just now recovering after a heinous mass slaughter by a red-headed freckled boy 35 years ago.
I finished all of my shopping yesterday except I never made it back to the HD store. The kids and I can do that next weekend hopefully. I may lack a thing or two for KD because with her being born 5 days before Christmas, I never seem to have enough gifts for both events. Tater and I need to decide on Mom's gifts and then I'll be completely done.
Paul says he doesn't want to get me a desk chair for Christmas, but if it's what I really want, shouldn't he just shut up and buy it for cryin' out loud? All I asked for was a laptop battery that lasts longer than 37.2 minutes (because that's about all I can get out of this one) and a comfortable desk chair. He's balking on both. I guess I should get myself a Harley - he'd have no trouble buying for me then, huh.
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We got a phone call from the director of the kids' Sunday School department last night asking if the kids were going to make it to practice for the program in the morning. I hadn't planned on them going because of Sam's basketball game and the fact that I'm playing single mom on the weekends and I haven't figured out the space-time continuum yet, but the guy said the teachers had all voted and they wanted Kady play Mary in the Nativity. I double-checked to make sure he didn't mean Abby, but nope, they wanted Kady for Mary, Abby for an angel and Sam for a shepherd. So after me letting down my over-protective Mom-Guard I said I'd leave the girls at the church for practice while I took Sam to his game. It's not that I don't trust the church people, it's just that I'm neurotic and like to be with my kids for stuff like that.
While we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready this morning Kady laid her hand right on my nuclear hot Chi iron and burned the ever-lovin' you-know-what outta her hand. Fortunately I had some Silvadene and bandages and wrapped her hand. I was comforting her after she was bandaged up and she sobbed, "But Momma, how can I cawwy da Baby Jesus wif DIS on my hand?" I said, "Oh honey, you shouldn't have any trouble carrying Baby Jesus. He should be pretty light. Ask Joseph for help if you need it. As the step-father of our Lord and Savior he really should step up and help you out." Abby, not impressed in the least by all the drama, said, "Man.... if there was ever going to be a Mary with a burn from a straightening iron, it would be from our family."
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Conversation between Abby and me after KD's 26,000th meltdown of the day:
"Good grief! Mom, why is she crying AGAIN?"
"I don't know, honey. I guess she's just having a bad day."
"And you say I need a Midol! Can you give a 5 year old a Midol?"
"No, I don't think you can, but she'll be 6 in a few weeks. Then you can share yours."
Sam and Paul have no chance at all. None.
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Twice in the last two weeks I've been called "funnier than hell" if that accounts for anything at all. Of course, like my 11-year-old pointed out - "Uh...Mom? Hell isn't funny at all, so is it really a compliment?" Yes. I'm taking it as one.
Oh, and leave a comment, will ya? You can even leave 'em anonymously, just so long as you leave 'em. I'd love to see who's stopping in because of a camouflage trailer and 8 pink plastic flamingos.
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I have taken my Macro final and my Lit final. I felt pretty decent about the Macro test really. Well, until that last page, but I'm not losing any sleep over it. I really should be taking my Computers final like, right now, but eh, I'm posting this then I'm going to bed. I'm scheduled to take the cursed Algebra final on Tuesday at 1:00. Prayers, good thoughts and maybe mailing chocolate directly to my home or sending me a bouquet of daisies to work would be appreciated. I don't expect to pass it, nor do I expect to pass the class, but I'm taking the final just so I can tell people I didn't totally wuss out. I just moderately wussed out. Moderately is definitely better than totally. Trust me.
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For your viewing pleasure....... bad pictures of my display at the Park of Lights.
There she is, all lit up and glowing. Ain't she purty? Purtier'n a pink dress, eh, Mrs. Coach?
I think the pink flamingos add so much.
Here it is without so much flash.
I'll have to try to grab some video of me walking around it one of these afternoons. That way I can point out all the nuances and special touches.
I didn't manage to get any pics of the clothesline where ol' Santa hung his duds, so yeah, I need to video it for y'all. I'll try to get to that this week, barring we're not actually entering the next Ice Age as the meterologists around here are predicting....
---------------------------------------------------------------
Sam had his first basketball game today. I cannot believe how much more improved he is from last year! His coach last year was great, but the coach this year is even better. She's teaching them basics and fundamentals and whaddaya know, he came home from practice one night and said, "Mom! You are never gonna believe this, but now I know what a layup is!!" Every time his coach told him to work on his lay-ups last year he was too embarrassed to ask him what a lay-up was, much less how to work on one. So I really have to give Coach Summers some serious kudos for teaching my boy some mad basketball skillz.
He fouled a kid today and the kid got free throws. There were fouls all over the place from all the boys on both teams, but for some reason Sam's was bad enough to let them have free shots. He was kinda proud of it, but I told him that it really wasn't something to be all that proud of considering it could get him kicked out of a game. I guess it goes without saying that he's a much more aggressive player this year, too.
They lost 29-20, but they brought it up from 11 to 20 in the first few minutes after the half, so I was impressed at whatever she said to them during halftime. It made an impression, whatever it was.
He got the crap knocked out of him at one point and I just so happened to have caught that moment on video. Paul had to work today and when I was showing him what I had recorded he kept having me replay the part where Sam hit the floor and scooted a foot backwards on his booty. Paul said, "Why didn't you get up and knock the sh*t outta him, son?" Sam shrugged and said, "Eh, it wasn't worth it. The refs were biased anyway." I don't know where he wouldve heard that........
---------------------------------------------------------
I left the house yesterday morning at 8:45 only to get on the highway and hear my phone ring. It was the school's number and I wondered who had puked already. It was Abby telling me she had spilled a carton of milk all over herself in the cafeteria and could I bring her some clean clothes? I turned around, went back to the house, dug around in that cave she calls a room, found some clothes that I think were clean and only a little wrinkled (they were in her closet, but that means nothing in Abbyland), took them to her, then went to town. I got almost to the turnpike entrance when I remembered I hadn't picked up my work study check at NEO, so I turned around, picked that up, then decided to go ahead and cash it since I was going shopping, then when I was in the bank drivethru felt my stomach rumble and remembered I hadn't eaten breakfast, pulled into McDonald's drivethru, ordered a McGriddle and a sweet tea and waited for what seemed like 4 hours while they butchered the hog to make the sausage patty and squeezed the chicken for the egg to make a perfectly round and quite disturbing egg patty and FINALLY got on the turnpike at 10. Then I'll be danged if I didn't pass right by the exit where the Harley shop was - the HD shop, Academy Sports and Toys R Us were my main reasons for going to Joplin.
Rather than turn around, I went on into Joplin and straight to Academy Sports where I bought my son a Benjamin pellet air rifle that the salesguy told me shoots at such a high velocity that the pellets will pierce the skin and could possibly kill someone in the right situation. Oy. My husband couldn't figure out why I had such reservations...
But seeing the look on Paul's face when I showed him the gun last night was pretty awesome. He had a Benjamin when he was a kid. That's why the squirrel population in the backwoods of Wyandotte is just now recovering after a heinous mass slaughter by a red-headed freckled boy 35 years ago.
I finished all of my shopping yesterday except I never made it back to the HD store. The kids and I can do that next weekend hopefully. I may lack a thing or two for KD because with her being born 5 days before Christmas, I never seem to have enough gifts for both events. Tater and I need to decide on Mom's gifts and then I'll be completely done.
Paul says he doesn't want to get me a desk chair for Christmas, but if it's what I really want, shouldn't he just shut up and buy it for cryin' out loud? All I asked for was a laptop battery that lasts longer than 37.2 minutes (because that's about all I can get out of this one) and a comfortable desk chair. He's balking on both. I guess I should get myself a Harley - he'd have no trouble buying for me then, huh.
---------------------------------------------------------
We got a phone call from the director of the kids' Sunday School department last night asking if the kids were going to make it to practice for the program in the morning. I hadn't planned on them going because of Sam's basketball game and the fact that I'm playing single mom on the weekends and I haven't figured out the space-time continuum yet, but the guy said the teachers had all voted and they wanted Kady play Mary in the Nativity. I double-checked to make sure he didn't mean Abby, but nope, they wanted Kady for Mary, Abby for an angel and Sam for a shepherd. So after me letting down my over-protective Mom-Guard I said I'd leave the girls at the church for practice while I took Sam to his game. It's not that I don't trust the church people, it's just that I'm neurotic and like to be with my kids for stuff like that.
While we were running around like chickens with our heads cut off getting ready this morning Kady laid her hand right on my nuclear hot Chi iron and burned the ever-lovin' you-know-what outta her hand. Fortunately I had some Silvadene and bandages and wrapped her hand. I was comforting her after she was bandaged up and she sobbed, "But Momma, how can I cawwy da Baby Jesus wif DIS on my hand?" I said, "Oh honey, you shouldn't have any trouble carrying Baby Jesus. He should be pretty light. Ask Joseph for help if you need it. As the step-father of our Lord and Savior he really should step up and help you out." Abby, not impressed in the least by all the drama, said, "Man.... if there was ever going to be a Mary with a burn from a straightening iron, it would be from our family."
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Conversation between Abby and me after KD's 26,000th meltdown of the day:
"Good grief! Mom, why is she crying AGAIN?"
"I don't know, honey. I guess she's just having a bad day."
"And you say I need a Midol! Can you give a 5 year old a Midol?"
"No, I don't think you can, but she'll be 6 in a few weeks. Then you can share yours."
Sam and Paul have no chance at all. None.
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Thursday, December 06, 2007
Blogging from Work, part hell I don't know
I'm at my work-study job for the next to the last week, so there will likely only be one more installment of Blogging From Work. Try not to cry too hard because this means that I will actually be blogging from HOME again! Whoo hoo!!
Oh and many thanks to everyone who offered to help us with Wii shopping. We managed to get our hot little hands on one yesterday after my mother stalked the Baxter Springs, KS, Wal*Mart until they had one. The kids got off the bus at 3:35 and were happily virtual-bowling by 3:45.
Today, my arms and shoulders are sore from all the baseball my son and I played last night. And I totally knocked my little sister out in boxing AND I chopped onions faster than her once. (We won't mention the 40 gazillion other times she out-chopped me...) My gosh, I don't know how we lived life normally before we owned a Wii. It's a good thing I quit school so I'll have more time to play now.
In about 34 minutes I will start taking my final Macroeconomics test. In about 25 minutes I should be quite done failing it as effectively as I possibly can. I got a 69 on the last test which was open-book. Does that tell you anything about how much I understood this class? Tomorrow or Saturday I will take my final in Computers and then I will be done since I'm not taking the Algebra final. Or at least, I don't think I'm taking it - the instructor hasn't responded to the pleas of the students who are wanting to know when the heck the final is. She may insist we all take it and if she does, fine. I'll take it, but I won't pass it. And you can't make me.
Okay, I'm off to find the new room they've moved Macro to. We were in two different rooms in two different buildings during last week's classtime and this week we're scheduled to be in some conference room in this building, yet.... I don't recall ever seeing a conference room in this building.
Oh and many thanks to everyone who offered to help us with Wii shopping. We managed to get our hot little hands on one yesterday after my mother stalked the Baxter Springs, KS, Wal*Mart until they had one. The kids got off the bus at 3:35 and were happily virtual-bowling by 3:45.
Today, my arms and shoulders are sore from all the baseball my son and I played last night. And I totally knocked my little sister out in boxing AND I chopped onions faster than her once. (We won't mention the 40 gazillion other times she out-chopped me...) My gosh, I don't know how we lived life normally before we owned a Wii. It's a good thing I quit school so I'll have more time to play now.
In about 34 minutes I will start taking my final Macroeconomics test. In about 25 minutes I should be quite done failing it as effectively as I possibly can. I got a 69 on the last test which was open-book. Does that tell you anything about how much I understood this class? Tomorrow or Saturday I will take my final in Computers and then I will be done since I'm not taking the Algebra final. Or at least, I don't think I'm taking it - the instructor hasn't responded to the pleas of the students who are wanting to know when the heck the final is. She may insist we all take it and if she does, fine. I'll take it, but I won't pass it. And you can't make me.
Okay, I'm off to find the new room they've moved Macro to. We were in two different rooms in two different buildings during last week's classtime and this week we're scheduled to be in some conference room in this building, yet.... I don't recall ever seeing a conference room in this building.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Putting that baby to bed
I just completed my final in my American Lit class.
Tomorrow night I will impair my vision attempting to type in the smallest font possible, one page front and back of notes for my Macro final. I'm not hopeful that a cheat-sheet is going to make the test any better - the test we took last Thursday was open-book and I don't feel like I did any better than on any other test.
Tomorrow night I will impair my vision attempting to type in the smallest font possible, one page front and back of notes for my Macro final. I'm not hopeful that a cheat-sheet is going to make the test any better - the test we took last Thursday was open-book and I don't feel like I did any better than on any other test.
Friday I will take the final in my Computers class. I'll make a C just like on every other one I've taken, but with the curve I'll get an A or at least a mid B. I still love that curve.
I am going to flunk Algebra. And I'm okay with that. The class is pass/fail. If you don't complete all 186 topics, you don't pass. I was 40-some behind the other night, managed to work hard enough to get it up to 30-some behind, then took a friggin' "assessment" (fancy schmancy word for test) and it knocked me back to nearly 60 behind! If you miss it on the assessment it adds it back into the topics. See, I mentioned that retention thing I don't have goin' on.....I totally wasn't lying. So, I'm going to fail because I have no intention of losing out on valuable sleep in order to bust my arse to get ahead only to get kicked to the curb when I take another assessment.
I should be kollij-free by the weekend.
Halleluiah.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wii would like to play...
...except we can't because I think the Wii doesn't actually exist.
The associates at Wal*Mart are all secretive about when their shipments arrive and the folks at Toys R Us are actually quite snippy and answer the phone with "Thank you for calling Toys R Us, we are out of Wiis and don't know when we'll get more. How can I help you today?" The gal at one of the 10 Wal*Marts I called today said she was screening calls when I asked for Electronics. I told her I was looking for a Wii and she said "So is everyone else."
7 years ago when PS2's were $350 and all the rage we walked right into a Wal*Mart and plunked down a chunk of our income tax return and walked home happy as pigs in sh*t ready to give ourselves carpal tunnel and flatter brain waves. There was no stress in buying the PS2.
Now I'm ready to hunt down those two fellas in the funky white car.
Hell yes Wii would like to play -- Wii just kidnapped your asses and oh yes, Wii will be playing.
The associates at Wal*Mart are all secretive about when their shipments arrive and the folks at Toys R Us are actually quite snippy and answer the phone with "Thank you for calling Toys R Us, we are out of Wiis and don't know when we'll get more. How can I help you today?" The gal at one of the 10 Wal*Marts I called today said she was screening calls when I asked for Electronics. I told her I was looking for a Wii and she said "So is everyone else."
7 years ago when PS2's were $350 and all the rage we walked right into a Wal*Mart and plunked down a chunk of our income tax return and walked home happy as pigs in sh*t ready to give ourselves carpal tunnel and flatter brain waves. There was no stress in buying the PS2.
Now I'm ready to hunt down those two fellas in the funky white car.
Hell yes Wii would like to play -- Wii just kidnapped your asses and oh yes, Wii will be playing.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Busy, busy, dreadfully busy
This is the next-to-the-last week of school for me. I cannot tell you how thankful I am that it is almost over. I am so ready to have this monkey off my back. I am still about 58,000 topics behind in Algebra, though and have a final to take, so I think it's pretty evident that I'm not going to get an A in the class. I'm not holding my breath on passing it either because I have absolutely NO retention in this subject! I can do problems, get a handle on them enough that the program will let me move on to the next topic and the next day when it reviews the previous day I have to look back over the work to remind myself what the hell I did just 24 hours ago. I truly am a mathtard. However, I was able to help Abby with her algebra homework the other day. My FIFTH GRADER. The fifth grader who is doing pre-algebra. Yeah. But thanks to one of my dearest friends in Texas I was able to impart upon her the wisdom I was given regarding order of operations. So I guess my kollij experience hasn't been entirely for naught.
I have one last assignment in my Lit class and one final paper. The paper is a literary analysis and since I did my last paper over "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe I decided to do this one over "The Minister's Black Veil" by Hawthorne. She picked my last paper to itty bitty smithereens, so I'm not hopeful that this one will fare any better, but I'm gonna give 'er a whirl. I want to be a writer, I'm told I'm good at writing......so WHY IN THE HECK do my English/Lit teachers rip me a new butthole every time I write a paper???? Not words of encouragement like "You have hidden potential. Hey, do you blog?" or "This paper is evidence that you are a diamond in the rough. Let me put you in touch with my cousin who is an agent" or anything like that. Instead I get "Double-space your sources, dipwad" and "You nitwit, you left out 16 commas. Duh." Okay, so technically she didn't call me a dipwad OR a nitwit, but I think she was secretly thinking it. And in my defense, I was going on about 2 1/2 hours of sleep when I wrote that paper - although I'm sure all the other Freshman were going on less. Of course, they were sleepless because they'd been partying with a beer bong, a trampoline and a goat named Bubba and I had just been crying hysterically for 14 hours straight over the fact that I have no mad math skillz and obviously no mad grammer skillz either. But I'm not bitter.
Tomorrow night is the last Macro test before the final. I got a whopping 65 on the last one and while these last three chapters are over money and monetary policy and I kind of almost halfway understood it, I'm still not going to get excited and think I might fare better than failure. Failure looks good on me these days. See? I think my butt looks smaller in failure, don't you? Okay, maybe not, but I still have awesome boobs.
Monday I took KD to the doctor because we spent all day the Friday after Thanksgiving doing breathing treatments because she sounded like a baby harp seal. I was close to taking her to the ER, but back-to-back treatments did the trick. Of course, she bounced off the walls after that and nearly drove me nuts with the incessant talking, shaking and chattering because of it. Her PA said her asthma has progressed from Stage 1 to Stage 2, meaning that instead of the occasional to rare flare-up, she's now having more frequent flare-ups. He put her on the Advair inhaler which he seems to think will do the trick. I'm sure her teacher will appreciate it when the new meds kick in and I'm not writing her a note every day giving her endless information about KD's breathing and wheezing.
Today I took the kids to the dentist in Tulsa for the six-month checkups/x-rays/cleanings. No cavities again, thankfully. Even though I have neglected them this entire year, I have still demanded they brush their teeth. I refuse to go totally redneck and allow dental decay in my children's mouth. In fact, because Abby is an overachiever like her mother, she's growing two whole extra teeth. When they handed me her x-ray I noticed these little nubbins down below and between a molar and bicuspid. Shortly after I noticed them, the hygienist said, "Doctor, I think Abby has some extra teeth." I asked if it was rare and he said rare, yes, unheard of, no, but he hasn't had a case in his practice in years. Leave it to my kid. He said they would eventually need to be extracted and I asked, "They'll have to be cut out, right?" He whirled around at me and said, "We prefer not to use the word 'cut' around the children." Whoops. My bad. It didn't seem to bother Abby regardless. Anyway, he wants to give them some time to develop a little more before he removes them, which hopefully will be before they undo all the progress we've made in the attempt to keep her out of braces.
Sam and I got a stern lecture because he's still not doing his lip exercises and I'm still not enforcing it. He hates doing them and I hate making him. Normally I am a bit of a drill sergeant when it comes to making my kids do things that I feel important - so I guess maybe I've decided the lip exercises aren't important? I dunno - I just hate making him walk around with a popsicle stick pinched between his lips in an effort to make his lips strong enough to pull a Volkswagon. After the dentist lectured us both thoroughly, he then told me that he will not start Sam in any orthodontics until he breaks the habit of biting his lip which can only be broken by doing those stupid lip exercises. So now, it has become "important" and I will soon go into full-force drill sergant mode. He's already getting some kids making fun of his teeth and I'm tired of him wallering his food around because he can't chew properly and if it means he has to walk around with a stupid popsicle stick in his mouth to train him to not bite his lower lip, so be it.
Today at work I learned that the Easy Bake Oven has been recalled because of "partial finger amputation." OW. I thought the foremost safety hazard with an Easy Bake was spontaneous combustion of your house and/or daughter wearing non-flame-retardant pajamas and running with scissors while her shoes are untied, but nope, turns out we all have to look out for them lobbing off part of their fingers, too.
I have one last assignment in my Lit class and one final paper. The paper is a literary analysis and since I did my last paper over "The Fall of the House of Usher" by Poe I decided to do this one over "The Minister's Black Veil" by Hawthorne. She picked my last paper to itty bitty smithereens, so I'm not hopeful that this one will fare any better, but I'm gonna give 'er a whirl. I want to be a writer, I'm told I'm good at writing......so WHY IN THE HECK do my English/Lit teachers rip me a new butthole every time I write a paper???? Not words of encouragement like "You have hidden potential. Hey, do you blog?" or "This paper is evidence that you are a diamond in the rough. Let me put you in touch with my cousin who is an agent" or anything like that. Instead I get "Double-space your sources, dipwad" and "You nitwit, you left out 16 commas. Duh." Okay, so technically she didn't call me a dipwad OR a nitwit, but I think she was secretly thinking it. And in my defense, I was going on about 2 1/2 hours of sleep when I wrote that paper - although I'm sure all the other Freshman were going on less. Of course, they were sleepless because they'd been partying with a beer bong, a trampoline and a goat named Bubba and I had just been crying hysterically for 14 hours straight over the fact that I have no mad math skillz and obviously no mad grammer skillz either. But I'm not bitter.
Tomorrow night is the last Macro test before the final. I got a whopping 65 on the last one and while these last three chapters are over money and monetary policy and I kind of almost halfway understood it, I'm still not going to get excited and think I might fare better than failure. Failure looks good on me these days. See? I think my butt looks smaller in failure, don't you? Okay, maybe not, but I still have awesome boobs.
Monday I took KD to the doctor because we spent all day the Friday after Thanksgiving doing breathing treatments because she sounded like a baby harp seal. I was close to taking her to the ER, but back-to-back treatments did the trick. Of course, she bounced off the walls after that and nearly drove me nuts with the incessant talking, shaking and chattering because of it. Her PA said her asthma has progressed from Stage 1 to Stage 2, meaning that instead of the occasional to rare flare-up, she's now having more frequent flare-ups. He put her on the Advair inhaler which he seems to think will do the trick. I'm sure her teacher will appreciate it when the new meds kick in and I'm not writing her a note every day giving her endless information about KD's breathing and wheezing.
Today I took the kids to the dentist in Tulsa for the six-month checkups/x-rays/cleanings. No cavities again, thankfully. Even though I have neglected them this entire year, I have still demanded they brush their teeth. I refuse to go totally redneck and allow dental decay in my children's mouth. In fact, because Abby is an overachiever like her mother, she's growing two whole extra teeth. When they handed me her x-ray I noticed these little nubbins down below and between a molar and bicuspid. Shortly after I noticed them, the hygienist said, "Doctor, I think Abby has some extra teeth." I asked if it was rare and he said rare, yes, unheard of, no, but he hasn't had a case in his practice in years. Leave it to my kid. He said they would eventually need to be extracted and I asked, "They'll have to be cut out, right?" He whirled around at me and said, "We prefer not to use the word 'cut' around the children." Whoops. My bad. It didn't seem to bother Abby regardless. Anyway, he wants to give them some time to develop a little more before he removes them, which hopefully will be before they undo all the progress we've made in the attempt to keep her out of braces.
Sam and I got a stern lecture because he's still not doing his lip exercises and I'm still not enforcing it. He hates doing them and I hate making him. Normally I am a bit of a drill sergeant when it comes to making my kids do things that I feel important - so I guess maybe I've decided the lip exercises aren't important? I dunno - I just hate making him walk around with a popsicle stick pinched between his lips in an effort to make his lips strong enough to pull a Volkswagon. After the dentist lectured us both thoroughly, he then told me that he will not start Sam in any orthodontics until he breaks the habit of biting his lip which can only be broken by doing those stupid lip exercises. So now, it has become "important" and I will soon go into full-force drill sergant mode. He's already getting some kids making fun of his teeth and I'm tired of him wallering his food around because he can't chew properly and if it means he has to walk around with a stupid popsicle stick in his mouth to train him to not bite his lower lip, so be it.
Today at work I learned that the Easy Bake Oven has been recalled because of "partial finger amputation." OW. I thought the foremost safety hazard with an Easy Bake was spontaneous combustion of your house and/or daughter wearing non-flame-retardant pajamas and running with scissors while her shoes are untied, but nope, turns out we all have to look out for them lobbing off part of their fingers, too.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
And now you're 9
Dear Sam,
Bless your little heart, you have drawn such a rotten spot in the family that not only are you the middle child, but you were also born right smack in the middle of the Thanksgiving holiday. Your little sister was born just five days before Christmas and her whole life we've made insanely annoying efforts to differentiate between her birthday and the holiday, but somehow your birthday still manages to get lost in the insanity that is our dysfunctional family at Thanksgiving. However, that whole being the middle child thing has made you so sweet and understanding that you just roll with it. Thank you. And bless you. A lot.
Love,
Bless your little heart, you have drawn such a rotten spot in the family that not only are you the middle child, but you were also born right smack in the middle of the Thanksgiving holiday. Your little sister was born just five days before Christmas and her whole life we've made insanely annoying efforts to differentiate between her birthday and the holiday, but somehow your birthday still manages to get lost in the insanity that is our dysfunctional family at Thanksgiving. However, that whole being the middle child thing has made you so sweet and understanding that you just roll with it. Thank you. And bless you. A lot.
When you were a baby I was convinced you were posessed. Or at least broken. Son, you were not all the way out of my body before you let out your first blood-curdling, hair-raising scream and it was downhill from there. You were a screamer. Actually "screamer" just doesn't adequately describe what you were when you were an infant. There are no words to adequately describe the noises you made, I'm afraid. You never really cried all that much, but the screaming - you screamed when you were happy, sad, angry, hungry, tired, well-rested and if Elmo had walked in and presented you with a lifetime supply of Oreos, you'd have still screamed. I remember one particular family vacation when there were 9 of us in a rented condo looking forward to some relaxation and fun, but you decided that that was the particular weekend that you were going to practice making me want to bang my head against something hard. At one point, after you had screamed and hollered for what seemed like endless hours, your Grammy walked out of the room and patted me on the arm and said, "It's a good thing I love that little shit because I sure don't like him very much." It was that next week that I made an appointment with your pediatrician and when that poor woman walked into the exam room I held you out to her at arm's length and said, "Fix him. He is broke." She laughed, but I didn't. In fact, I believe I busted into tears. I was convinced you were deaf - that was the only plausible reason in my exhausted mind that would explain why you screamed virtually nonstop. However, she looked you over from head to toe, did all kinds of little tests to check your hearing, played with you awhile and you charmed her socks right off. When she was done, she picked you up, kissed your head, handed you back to me and said, "Sweetie, he's not broke. He just likes the sound of his voice. Just try to enjoy him until he gets tired of it." And years later, I can't tell you exactly when you outgrew the screaming. Maybe you just got tired of your voice all of the sudden and maybe you gradually phased out the screaming. However it happened, I'm glad it did. I love you and all, but wow, you were loud.
Sam, you're an amazing child. You are giving and kind, yet you are obnoxious and annoying - usually in the same breath. I will never understand the complexities that make up you, my son, and frankly, it's probably better that way. It adds to the whole package, I think. You are a charmer, no doubt, and the teachers at school and your classmates love you and your personality. Sometimes we call you "Eddie Haskell" because you tend to overdo some compliments every now and then....okay.....a lot....but as your mother, I have every right to blame it on the fact that you are the middle child. I will use birth order to explain away you and your sister's behavior until someone with a lot of letters after his name tells me I can't. So, again, it's because you're the middle child that you try so hard to please everyone. And tell them they're pretty. And smart. And the best mother/father/teacher/aunt/etc. in the world. And my, those are lovely pearls you're wearing, Mrs. Cleaver.
I don't know what God holds in His hands for you, Sam, but I just have this feeling in my heart it's going to be something amazing. I mean, I hope your sisters do wonderful things, too, but something in me says that you're going to do amazing things for other people. It's just your nature. Your Grammy has said for years she thinks you'll end up being a minister or pastor and it's funny, but you have mentioned a desire to do that as well. Lately you've been asking lots of questions about God and salvation and how will you know when God is talking to your heart. As a mother, I want to be able to know exactly what to say in every situation and answer all of your questions the right way, but in this case I repeatedly answer you with, "You'll just know." And it's the truth, however frustrating it is to you. Just be patient.
You've also mentioned that you want to be a solider when you get old enough. The patriotic part of me thinks that would be wonderful. You would serve our country well. But the momma in me wants to grab you so tight and scream NO and forbid you from going within 500 yards of an Army recruiter's office. But as hard as it will be, if the time comes that you decide to become a solider.....well, I'll probably cry a lot, but I will be the proudest mother to ever live.
I am so happy that you're my son. Most days you are the one that makes me throw my head back and laugh really loud. You are dorky and corny and you get easily frustrated when things don't work out the way you think they should. You suck at your times tables and love Captain Jack Sparrow - wow, you're me. I cannot resist kissing your head and the smell of your sweaty little-boy hair makes me happy to be alive. I never dreamed that a little boy with big teeth and freckles would make me feel like the luckiest woman on earth.
Happy birthday, son. I love you.
Love, Momma
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Leaves!
The other day we had the most glorious leaves in our yard! They were pretty and crunchy and just perfect for burying the kids in and taking pictures. So we did. Paul even got into the spirit of it all and used the leaf blower to make these two gigantic piles - one in the front yard, one in the back. What ensued was over an hour of picture snapping, sloppy dog kisses because Jake loves him some leaf piles, a sweat bee in my bra and several good pictures, believe it or not. I took a family picture, too, but I'm saving it for another day. In the meantime, enjoy these....
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all!
A very redneck Christmas
Monday night I had a hair bow party of my very own. The girls and I had gone to one last week and spent so much money and wanted so many more bows that we had to have one of our own. Look at me talking like I wear the bows myself. I assure you, though, I do not. But, I do *heart* hair bows.
During the party, "Grammy's Connie" mentioned that they had had several displays pull out of the Park of Lights at the state park that day. Every year, Twin Bridges state park opens the park up to area individuals, businesses and organizations and they make light displays throughout the park. Then folks can drive through from Thanksgiving night until Christmas and vote for their favorite.
A few nights before that, Paul and I had been talking about how much fun it would be to set one up and decided that next year we would do one with a redneck theme. Hearing Connie talk about the lack of participation this year, got Paul and I to thinking that maybe, just maybe, we could get it together. After the hairbow party we talked about it until nearly midnight then decided that we just didn't have time to do it this year since the displays had to be done by Wednesday night. However, the power of my mother and Connie is too much to be reckoned with by mere mortals and Tuesday morning Mom called me at work to tell me that yeah, we were doing one.
I got to the park at 2 yesterday and after driving to Connie's to switch the hitch on Paul's truck, driving to her daughter's to get the itty bitty camouflage camping trailer, getting bitten on the ankles by her retarded boxer dogs, driving 40 mph from her house to the park with a line of cars behind me, then driving a massive Dodge Ram hauling an itty bitty camouflage trailer through a wind-y road in a state park, Mom and I started setting up my display.
For me, this whole thing was a big deal. I think I've grown as a person through this. See, I'd never pulled anything and was a bit nervous. Paul has never let me pull anything because he says my backing up skillz are a bit lacking, but, by cracky, yesterday I pulled that camper and even backed it up a bit. I also don't drive his Dodge very well because it's a freakin' yard barge. But I did it. I even walked out to my neighbor's old dilapidated shed yesterday afternoon to fetch some baling wire to rig up the signs. I just kept chanting "Don't scream in front of your kind old neighbor, don't scream in front of your kind old neighbor" to myself and no diva-eating rats came at me. I got rust under my fingernails, learned that even frozen fingers are capable of tearing duct tape, discovered that spanking my fist-fighting children will calm them right down and after that they'll behave like little redneck Christmas angels and also have decided that my mom is more redneck than she'd ever admit.
I think it goes without saying, the display is very redneck. Paul says it's not redneck enough, but I think that considering we decided on and completed the task in a matter of about 30 hours, I think we made a pretty fair showing. If you're a local, you really need to drive through the park and check out all the displays and then votefor me for the display you think is best which probably isn't mine, but vote for me anyway. Everyone who has a display has worked hard - of course, most of the people were intelligent enough to do so before the temperatures dropped to the mid-30's yesterday and didn't stand out in the freezing drizzle and gale force winds to set theirs up, but still a lot of hard work has gone into each display.
I will take pictures to show those of you who aren't local because, really, you need to see it to complete your holiday. It ain't Christmas until you see a camouflage camping trailer surrounded by pink flamingos and decorated with mismatched lights hung with love, Christmas spirit and lots and lots of duct tape.
During the party, "Grammy's Connie" mentioned that they had had several displays pull out of the Park of Lights at the state park that day. Every year, Twin Bridges state park opens the park up to area individuals, businesses and organizations and they make light displays throughout the park. Then folks can drive through from Thanksgiving night until Christmas and vote for their favorite.
A few nights before that, Paul and I had been talking about how much fun it would be to set one up and decided that next year we would do one with a redneck theme. Hearing Connie talk about the lack of participation this year, got Paul and I to thinking that maybe, just maybe, we could get it together. After the hairbow party we talked about it until nearly midnight then decided that we just didn't have time to do it this year since the displays had to be done by Wednesday night. However, the power of my mother and Connie is too much to be reckoned with by mere mortals and Tuesday morning Mom called me at work to tell me that yeah, we were doing one.
I got to the park at 2 yesterday and after driving to Connie's to switch the hitch on Paul's truck, driving to her daughter's to get the itty bitty camouflage camping trailer, getting bitten on the ankles by her retarded boxer dogs, driving 40 mph from her house to the park with a line of cars behind me, then driving a massive Dodge Ram hauling an itty bitty camouflage trailer through a wind-y road in a state park, Mom and I started setting up my display.
For me, this whole thing was a big deal. I think I've grown as a person through this. See, I'd never pulled anything and was a bit nervous. Paul has never let me pull anything because he says my backing up skillz are a bit lacking, but, by cracky, yesterday I pulled that camper and even backed it up a bit. I also don't drive his Dodge very well because it's a freakin' yard barge. But I did it. I even walked out to my neighbor's old dilapidated shed yesterday afternoon to fetch some baling wire to rig up the signs. I just kept chanting "Don't scream in front of your kind old neighbor, don't scream in front of your kind old neighbor" to myself and no diva-eating rats came at me. I got rust under my fingernails, learned that even frozen fingers are capable of tearing duct tape, discovered that spanking my fist-fighting children will calm them right down and after that they'll behave like little redneck Christmas angels and also have decided that my mom is more redneck than she'd ever admit.
I think it goes without saying, the display is very redneck. Paul says it's not redneck enough, but I think that considering we decided on and completed the task in a matter of about 30 hours, I think we made a pretty fair showing. If you're a local, you really need to drive through the park and check out all the displays and then vote
I will take pictures to show those of you who aren't local because, really, you need to see it to complete your holiday. It ain't Christmas until you see a camouflage camping trailer surrounded by pink flamingos and decorated with mismatched lights hung with love, Christmas spirit and lots and lots of duct tape.
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'Pert Near Five Years
It's been nearly five years since my last post, and even that was a repost from my newspaper column. I think you can attribute it to wri...
