Prove I'm not a robot? But, it's MY BLOG!

Random list #who knows - let's say 112 because I like lists.

1.  I now have three part-time jobs which somehow equal at least one job and a half.  So, apparently I work really well under stress and pressure because I have already screwed around on Pinterest today.

2.  When you are the fourth child, sometimes you're gonna get screwed.  And sometimes it will be at the hands of your mother.  I have a notoriously bad memory and I take procrastination to the professional level.  So, it should come as no surprise that I didn't even think about baby's fourth birthday party until a few weeks before the only weekend in September we had free to do the party.  For the second time in the history of my children we hosted a party at a "party place" rather than our home (the first time was baby's third birthday).  That location was Peter Piper Pizza.  After some research on Google, I learned there are nine Peter Piper locations in our city.  I forgot to put which location on her birthday invitations.

3.  When you don't put an actual location on a birthday party invitation assumptions will be made.  These assumptions might be incorrect and thereby greatly reduce the size of said party.

4.  My family can eat some leftover Peter Piper pizza.

5.  Even though I am Hispanic I still have to google recipes for Tortilla Soup.  That just seems wrong and has led to this day being the first day I have ever bothered to make tortilla soup.  I have not even started yet and I am pretty sure it will be the last as well.

6.  I understand when other people's blogs think that I am a robot, but when my own blog thinks I am a robot I am hurt and offended. 

7.  After scheduling my first physical in about 20 years, I fasted and drank coffee with no creamer (which, in case you don't know, tastes a little like river water with a hint of caffeine flavor) to find I had read the calendar wrong.  My appointment is next week.  I still have time to cancel with no penalty.

8.  The honeymoon of going back to school ended abruptly this past Monday.  There is really nothing like four young children who have become disenchanted completely with school and yet still have to go.  This past week, I experienced high pitched screaming, shirt clutching (to reveal my bra, thank you, Girl 3), object throwing, and incessant whining about everything from homework to food.  If next week brings Linda Blair projectile vomiting and head spinning, I will not be surprised.

9.  We completed the third week of school and I have been called by the school nurse twice already.  The first time she told me Boy Child was hurt during football and had a head injury.  He, indeed, had a mild concussion.  I learned several helpful things that day (sub list):
a.  Shower and change your undies first thing in the morning.  Otherwise you might not have a chance until about 4:10 p.m.  And then, frankly, what's the point?
b.  The medical thinking on concussions has changed.  I learned this first from the school nurse who gave me the History of the Head Injury from 1920 until now in about a 20 minute lecture.  I had a hint of why the school honeymoon was over.  Then, I learned it from our beloved pediatrician who assured me that although nothing was really wrong with Boy Child and that he would most likely be fine, I had done the right thing bringing Boy Child to the doctor at 2:00 p.m. on a Friday afternoon only to have to wait an hour and 15 minutes to be seen with my 96 year old dad and the three year old in tow not having showered and still wearing dirty undies.  Really?  I did the right thing?
c.  There is redemption in a cold Lite beer from Miller and hot peanuts which I had the forethought to purchase earlier in the day when my undies were still mildly clean and I had high hopes for accomplishing much.

10.  I do not believe in therapy.  Instead I endlessly analyze myself and the people around me.  Because of a recent breakthrough in my self-analyzation (you're welcome for that word), I discovered why I am becoming more and more obsessed with Halloween when I used to love Christmas so much.  Christmas has too much potential to never meet your expectations.  Halloween, on the other hand, will almost always exceed your expectations.  And, that is apparently why I love it.  Thank you, me.  (Breakthroughs like this make me want to pay myself money.)

Try to make it a great week and I will try to stay out of the school nurse's office.  (We're on a first name basis - I know you're jealous.)