Say what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There are 27 children in my classroom.

The other Kindergarten teacher has 28.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah. Motherhood.

Squeak squeaker squeak squeaken

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

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

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

I am happy.

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

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

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

I love that kid.

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

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

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

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

So long, Olive Garden!

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Phone interviewed with production company this past week.

Asked to make an audition tape.

Making audition tape tomorrow.

Priority overnighting said tape first of the week.

Fingers already crossed.

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

Many, many things

Abby rocks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (of course!) :-) =) :-p

(The above is what happens when I leave the laptop unattended to go tuck in her little brother and sister.) (Almost-twelve-year-olds are fun.) (Makes me re-think that later bedtime for her...)

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I am so sorry that that last time I blogged it was about my hair that I don't shampoo.

That's not a real pleasant note to leave the innerweb hanging by for an entire week and a half.

But in the meantime, I got my hairs cut. I forgot to tell her to leave my bangs alone. Nothing good ever comes from letting someone else trim your bangs.

Oh and I bought some conditioner. My hair thanked me. It sent me a card and some flowers. Swear.

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Did anyone notice the earth stopped spinning on Sunday? Yeah, my husband went with the kids and me to Silver Dollar City. He loathes Branson and all that is in it - or at least he used to. I only had to ask him one time if he would go and he immediately said yes. AND he was in a good mood the entire day. AND he wants a season pass of his very own for 2009. AND wants to plan a week-long vacation there. After I felt his forehead for a fever and didn't find one, I wondered if he was a pod person.

We had a blast, though. We listened to the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat most of the way there. Showtunes aren't my redneck's favorite (yes, really) music, but since country music makes my ears bleed, he tolerated the kids and me singing in Elvis voices and correctly reciting EVERY color in Joseph's coat - a talent that you should really admire - and then, bopping along happily to the medley remix at the end of the CD. Donnie Osmond was a really good Joseph, just for the record.

My favorite Texan, the Queen of Dirty Laundry, and I texted a good part of the way there, too. So much so that by the time we got to Branson I had very little battery left on the ol' RazrII. But I still had enough to live-Tweet from an indoor roller coaster. Because I'm dedicated like that.

(Speaking of Tweeting - if you haven't discovered Twitter yet, I am sorry. You really should.) (If you follow me I'll follow you and not in a totally creepy Fitty kind of way. Promise.) (Well, unless you're Kirk Cameron. Seeing him on the Today show yesterday totally revived the crush I had on him my entire teenhood. So Kirk, if you follow my Tweets I will SO stalk you. Don't be surprised.)

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Two Sunday night ago the kids and I pulled in the driveway after a delightful lunch at my sister's to find Paul waiting at the door telling me to hurry up there was a new show on and he thought I'd like it. The show was Fringe and yes, I like it. It is bizarre and far-fetched and incredibly creepy, but I still like it.

I am worried that if I combine Fringe with LOST in my brain it will explode. Too much thinking.

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Parent Teacher Conferences were last night.

For the first time in my parental life I came home and cried after meeting with my kids' teachers.

I will post about it all tomorrow (Yes, Mrs. Coach I really will) (Maybe) because it's too lengthy to get into tonight, but let's just say that I feel like an inadequate parent these days.

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After weeks of hearing nothing, today I got a phone call from the production company we made a tape for awhile back. Honestly, we had all given up. Turns out, we are still in in the running!! We've been asked to make them another tape. We'll tackle that this weekend and after they edit once more it goes on to the network for a final decision.

This has the potential of being a very busy fall.

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Kirk Cameron is beautiful.

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Thank you to Lauren, a commenter who left this in my comments. That song makes me happy. So very, very happy.

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David Blane is creepy. So creepy I have to leave the room when my husband insists on watching him on TV. Something about him makes me very uncomfortable.

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Kathie Lee Gifford is not the way she used to be. I like Hoda Kotb, but I don't think she can reign in Kathie Lee like Regis could.

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A panther screamed in our front yard the other night. For the first time in like, ever, I nearly wet the bed. I had just opened the bedroom windows when that sucker let loose with what sounded like a child screaming. I've heard them scream before where they sounded like a woman, but this was the first one that sounded like a child. The dogs barked and growled for quite awhile afterwards. We left the porch light on for them that night. Poor puppies.

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I had been putting the dogs in their crate when the kids went down to catch the bus in the mornings to avoid any further pet vs. car drama. Gravy would go in easily enough, but Biscuit thought it was a delightfully hilarious game to make me chase him around the yard in my sock monkey slippers every morning. Finally the other morning I gave up and as they tore off down the driveway I put my hands on my hips and yelled, "Fine! Fine! Go! But if you get hit by a car again, don't come cryin' to me!" He literally looked over his shoulder as he ran. I think he grinned. Half an hour later I stepped out onto the front porch to let Nonner look at the trees, only to find both dogs curled up together, asleep in the carrier. I swear, they're like children. They nearly got grounded that day.

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Sometimes, just every now and then, something very unexpected happens that aids tremendously in helping to restore my faith in people in general. I like when that happens.

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Hour and a half long phone calls in the middle of the morning to a long-distance friend are tremendously wonderfully nice. Thanks, friend.

Redneck and Proud of It

We have the lowest package available on DishNetwork - the Family package. (Which doesn't include the kid-friendly Disney, go figure) While we get Nick, Boomerang, GAC and the Outdoor channel, we don't get CMT, the station that is home to My Big Redneck Wedding.

Remember back a few months ago I kept hinting around about a TV producer, audition tapes and other such silliness? Well, it was because a production assistant from Pink Sneaker Productions, the company in charge of producing such high-quality programming as My Big Redneck Wedding, I Love New York, MTV's Cribs, and Hogan Knows Best, among others, emailed and asked if we would consider auditioning for the upcoming holiday extravaganza My Big Redneck Christmas.

Well heck yes! I called all the folks from Mom's side of the family (even though Paul's family is WAY more redneck than us, they are considerably anti-social) and they were in so we got together, had a weenie roast one Sunday afternoon, filmed the hilarity (rednecks and weenies....imagine the conversations...) and sent off the tape with our redneck wishes and hillbilly dreams inside. The more time that went by we all assumed we didn't get on the show and frankly, I kind of forgot about it. Then one afternoon the production assistant called me to say she had just left a meeting where we had been declared the front-runners and they needed another tape ASAP. We made another tape, kicked things up a notch and sent it off again.

I had been told that filming would take place the first of November and the camera crew never showed up so we obviously didn't get on. Saturday I got a phone call from Cousin Courtney and Aunt Janet because they've got "big cable" and had watched My Big Redneck Christmas. Courtney said that even though she'd only caught the last 10 minutes of the premiere airing, she was really glad we didn't get on - she said the deep-fried possum was just too over the line for her. Aunt Janet's excited phone call was punctuated with my uncle's declarations in the background, "Those folks are professionals!" I guess the horseshoes played with toilet seats, the rolling junk cars down a hill to see whose would crash worse, positioning the yard reindeers in provocative positions and shooting the plastic Santa off the roof was what brought him to that decision.

Now, my mom has told me several times "Honey, you're just not as redneck as you think you are" but I disagree. For one thing, Jeff Foxworthy - who might as well be the Pope of All Things Redneck - defines the word redneck as "A glorious lack of sophistication." Now, we are gloriously unsophisticated, but we are not white trash. Oh yes, Virginia, there IS a difference. I think people have skewed the term redneck into hillbilly bordering on po' white trash and there's probably nothing all of us true rednecks can do about it. It's just that when people see shows like My Big Redneck... they are getting a false impression.

My hopes all along had been to get on the show and clarify this, but obviously they got wind of my conversation plans and nixed it in favor of the people who dangled a cigarette out of the mouth of the mounted deer head on the living room wall. Sorry, our deer is a non-smoker because of Kady's asthma.

Out of curiosity, I'd love to read comments from y'all giving me your personal idea of what a redneck reallly is. Do you think it's all mullets and wife beaters or is more duct tape and Southern engineering? Or maybe it's buying holiday centerpieces at a dollar store? Or possibly angel ornaments made out of tampons or tossing a hunk of roadkill into the turkey fryer around the holidays? Seriously, y'all, leave a comment and tell me

What Redneck Means To You.