I do not want to pack your lunch. I can't even pack my lunch.

You guys, it just took an act of congress to sign-in to my blog.

I am "this many years old" (written with a smug look on my face that says - I am sick of 'I am this many years old'), y'all:

1.  Get my coffee.
2.  Decide, after stewing about two things for two weeks to write it down even though I have 18,000 things to do right now that do not remotely involve me sharing with anyone how I am feeling.
3.  Turn on my laptop.
4.  Check my email (I have deleted all but nine emails after having thousands for years, so sometimes I just check my email even though I know there's only 9 because it makes me feel like I am actually doing something useful in life).
5.  Check my bank account (Because I can, y'all.  I got online banking after 35 years).
6.  Go to my blog's http.
7.  Click 'sign-in.'
8.  Make a confused face when Google asks me what account I'd like to use (5 choices pop-up).  Who are these people?  Why does Google have all these accounts for me?  Did I make them?  Google:  I hate you.  Do I really want to write a blog post?
9.  Pick one randomly.
10.  Cuss when I log-in with a password I have pulled out of my ass (and it works - there might be a God and she knows me) and Google tells me there are no blogs currently for this account.  Would I like to &*%^$*&% start one?  There is no god.
11.  Lose the will to write anything.
12.  Pull my Password Book (titled Password Book) off the shelf.
13.  Cuss as I look at all the pages where I've written UPDATED PASSWORD FOR MY BLOG.  Who am I?  Do I even deserve a blog?  DO I EVEN UNDERSTAND HOW THE INTERNET WORKS?  Decidedly, no and no.
14.  Go to the link under Help that says, "I am a moron and I still cannot log into my blog.  I have tried selling my first born and that has not worked.  Please help me with a step-by-step."  (Google does know me.)
15.  Change my &*%^$^$# email account AND my password AND write it down in the book AND log into my blog.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.  Here we all are, FINALLY.

I no longer remember what I had to write and I am so mad that my fingers are making nice clicking sounds on the keys.

Okay.  Here we go.  The two things I have really quick since I spent most of the time I don't have logging in.

Y'all, why are high school students not packing their own lunches?  This has gotten under my skin so much that it has caused me to gain weight.  I think.

So, I attended a sports meeting with my sophomore the other night and when the coach asked are there any questions a mom said, "Yes.  I pack Tommy his snacks and water bottle, but I just want to make sure that there is water available at the meets that he can access."

Okay.  I communicate with my sophomore girl right now exclusively through texts and side-eyes except when she wants to berate me for like not buying enough blueberries.  I gave her a side-eye at this point that said, "Is she f&*%$^ serious?  Is Tommy in PreK?"

PLEASE NOTE:  I teach PreK and I am not a judge Judy when it comes to parenting.  But, this really got under my skin.  If you are a sophomore in high school and you are involved in sports, should you not know how to ask for water in the Texas heat (which is still above 1000 degrees F)?  AND WHY IS SHE STILL PACKING HIS SNACKS AND WATER BOTTLE???  My kids started packing their lunches (mostly under duress) when they were like in fourth grade.

When I posted this question (innocently, I thought) on Twitter (nothing is innocent on Twitter, I know), I got the interesting response that he might have a condition that would require help.  Yeah, I get that.  I'm a teacher and a parent of four.  But, still.  My PreK kids (some of whom have unique needs) take out all their own snacks and water bottles and fill up their water bottles with minimal assistance.

What I really think is going on here is something I read about last night.  What is happening??  I know now that I am not the only one out there in the universe who does not need to know when my child is picking their nose.  I haven't made dinner in months, you guys, let alone put trackers on my kids' phones.

Maybe this is hitting me so hard because I feel guilty all of a sudden for being such a sub-par parent or maybe it's because I am seeing sooooo many capable, yet helpless PreK students entering my class, or maybe I am turning into a cranky old lady.  I suspect it's all three.  So, yeah.  I just had to get that off my chest.

And the other thing (yeah, go ahead, picture me):

Sophomore girl comes home the other day and tells me and her dad that she learned in her child development class about the character traits parents should have.  Before she even recounted them my thought was, "Maybe I'll have one?"  She carefully pointed out the ones we don't have.  Even collectively.

I am My Kid Tells Me I Shouldn't Have Had Kids years old.



Immediately I thought of all the traits missing from her teacher's list.  Oh, and, lest you think I'm completely heartless (you are not too far off the mark at this point) - lots of big love for HS child development teachers everywhere.  I don't even know how they actually communicate with high school students.

Essential Parenting Traits (short list)

1.  A sense of humor.  Could this one literally not cover for all the other traits you don't have?
2.  The ability to listen attentively to Minecraft drivel you don't understand for literally years even though you are thinking about how many more miles you can drive without running out of gas, is there milk in the fridge, do you have clean underwear for work tomorrow, when is Christmas.
3.  The best playlist to get you through all the feels and to teach your kids what real music sounds like.  (I mean shouldn't that one literally be a requirement for pregnancy?)
4.  The ability to potty train a human without losing life (yours or theirs).
5.  The ability to multi-task while multi-tasking.
6.  The ability to clean up pee, poop, vomit, and any other thing that comes out of a human.
7.  Have enough love in your heart to cover for all the times you screw up like sending your kid to school dressed like they're 100 when it's really only the 99th day of school.  And ice cream.  You're gonna need the ability to buy lots of ice cream after pulling crap like that on your kids.

I'm gonna just stop at seven even though my mind was going on and on.

Then I asked her if the teacher gave them a list of traits teenage girls should have.  She gave me a side-eye.

That's all I got.  I feel a little better after writing it all down.  It's too late to go back.  On most days, I am doing the best I can and I respect parents everywhere doing the best they can.  Sometimes it's hard down here in the trenches.

Below I have included a short video because it restored my faith in our parenting thus far. If our kid makes videos while doing math online and they are so funny I have to watch them like a billion times while still finding things to laugh about, then, yeah.  I think we're doing it ok enough.

Jesus Take The Wheel

To date my best parenting accomplishment has been potty training four children.  I remember consulting one book and it was called something like Potty Training in 24 Hours.  (That book was mostly a lot of voodoo, but there were some good pointers that I used.  I won't say they were potty trained in 24 hours, but I will claim a moderate to high level of success comparatively evidenced by the fact that more than one friend offered to have me potty train their children.)

When it came to potty training, my kids were quick learners (well, three of them), I managed to be consistent and set the bar high, there were few relapses, and they are all still going strong.

Now, I find myself faced with another difficult parenting challenge which I would like to go down as a Big Accomplishment just like potty training.  I will call this challenge:  Teaching Your Child To Drive (While Not Dying or Killing Others).

This begs the question:  Is there a parenting book dedicated to just this topic?  No?  Well, there should be.  God knows, I've already got enough material for a book.

So, when I knew my son would start to drive I thought hubby would be the frazzled, cursing, white knuckled parent and I would be the cool cucumber blasting the radio with the window down and my hand nonchalantly hanging out.  Hell.  To.  The.  No.  Already.

Hubby is remarkably calm and I am a complete basket case.  Honestly.

I think the best/only way to adequately describe the current situation is a list.

1.  Not only is being a helpless passenger completely nerve wracking for me, when I tried to explain to Boy 1 how I felt being a helpless passenger he said, "Jesus, mom.  How do you think I've felt for 16 years?"  *silence*

2.  The other day while we were waiting (him driving, me a passenger, three girls screaming in the back) in the turn lane to turn left from a four lane road to a six lane road bubba asked, "If an emergency vehicle were to pull up behind me with their siren on, what should I do?"  To which I replied, "Hmm.  Good question.  Ask dad."

Then I said, "I think you should just...I'm not sure...pull out of the way?"  Then bubba said, "Yeah, duh.  But, like where?"

I said, "Well, I'm not sure.  That's a good question.  I'm not sure in 35 years of driving that's ever happened to me.  I think just try to get out of the way and not get hit by another car the best you can.  It's not like that kind of thing happens regularly.  I'm sure by the time it happens to you, you will be far more experienced and just know what to do."

Then it happened yesterday.

And, of course, it was raining and dad wasn't in the car with us.  Just me and six kids.

We  were turning left from a highway access road to a six lane road.  The light was red and Boy 1 was the first person turning left.  An ambulance was suddenly right behind us with his siren on and honking.  My god.  Cursing ensued, Boy 1 was screaming, "*&%&$!!!  MOM, WHAT DO I DO?," the backseat driver (Girl 1) went into high gear screaming, "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY.  WE'RE GONNA DIE.", Girl 2 offered up her "advice" in the form of screaming and cursing, and I'm pretty sure Girl 3 (and possibly me) started crying.  The two friends that were being carted around turned white like ghosts.

It all came out fine, but I think all of our nerves were frayed.  As for myself, I don't even take Xanax, but I felt I needed 10 afterward.

3.  If we had a curse jar in the van, it would be full.  Everyone has started cursing.  I know you're probably snickering at this since I have been known to curse on occasion, but I'm serious.  All the kids (except, honestly, the nine year old) are cursing.  A lot.  You know those signs "Baby on Board"?  We need one.  Crazy Cursing People On Board.

4.  Everything I've known to be true has been called into question.  I'm constantly thinking of driving situations I do not want to be in with Boy 1 or really by myself (in case there's a teen driver near).  I mean, really.  The toddler years are paling in comparison to the fear I have now.  No matter your political affiliation:  Why do we as a society allow teens to drive?

5.  I have seen these signs that you put on your car that say "Student Driver" and some have other things added like "Be Patient" "Don't flip the bird," etc.  So, I thought that would be a great idea for when Boy 1 is driving.  I suggested this to him and he said, "&^%* no, mom.  That is crazy.  I don't want people being nice to me.  I want to experience driving for real.  If everyone is nice to me, I won't really know what real driving is like once that insane sign comes off."

I don't even know how I feel about that.

6.  Why don't people talk more about this?  Why are there not online forums dedicated to Parents of Teen Drivers?  I need a support group.  Or at the very least, more beer.

Boy 1 is working today.  So, no passengering.  I'm going to (happily) drive myself to the grocery store and try to avoid all other cars (in case there's a teen driving).

Happy, safe driving to all of you and just remember that in the next car could be a terrified, white knuckled mom passengering around while her cursing immature teen is learning to drive.  Be patient.  Be kind.  And please, try not to flip the bird.

The purge of summer 2017 in which the wii "disappeared."

As a mom of four, wife of one, I get blamed a lot.  It's my fault when someone doesn't eat breakfast or lunch and is starving and can't wait for dinner.  It's my fault when laundry (that's not mine) stays wet in the washer for 24+ hours.  It's my fault when there's a schedule "miscommunication" and someone has to walk (no one ever has had to walk, but we've done our fair share of unenforceable threatening).  It's my fault when someone doesn't get the item they needed from the grocery store (because I'm a mind reader and can predict everyone's needs and wants).  And on and on.  If we're all honest, it's rarely my fault.  But, sometimes it is.

So, last summer I committed possibly my worst "parenting" (and I say "parenting" because it mostly just affected my kids) mistake to date for which I am still occasionally blamed.

Summer 2017, my son became a minimalist.  He researched it, decided it was for him, and then decided that everything but his bed, desk, technology, and a few clothes were not essential.  Then he encouraged us to start getting rid of our nonessential items crap.  I sorted through things I hadn't seen since the 80's, made piles, put things in boxes, and made about 20 trips to Goodwill.  The minimalist thing worked for us since I like to throw everything away and hubby could stand to throw a lot away.  Also, we are six people living in a teeny, tiny house.

While all of this was happening, we were building a tiny (tinier) house in the back for said son and we were also remodeling our kitchen.  The entire kitchen was packed into boxes and moved into the living room and a fine layer of dust was on every.  thing.  (In case you are wondering, I am still married.)

We also went on two vacations (one out of state) and did all the normal things we do during the summer.  To say that this was stressful does not adequately describe the state of the chaos.  There were boxes for our boxes and in those boxes were more boxes.

We microwaved food  in the living room (where our microwave perched on three boxes) for so long that when we finally moved the microwave back into the kitchen on the brand new black granite countertops, we still headed into the living room to microwave food.  Our dog stopped barking at the workers, and we just got used to people being in our house from 7 to 7.

Anyway.  In the midst of all of this, we got a flat screen TV.  We had said goodbye to our beloved tube TV months before, and finally purchased a flat screen.  When we put our tube TV to the curb for bulky pick-up I had diligently separated out the VCR (yes, we had one), DVD player (because we got a new one of those, too), and what I thought was just a TV contraption thingie and put them all in a box to go to Goodwill.  I distinctly remember (although no one in my house verifies this) asking everyone to go through the box to make sure nothing of value was in the box before I took it to Goodwill.  My story is that this went ignored by all family members.  Their story is that I never asked anyone anything and that I just threw random things in boxes and took them to Goodwill.

Well, eventually the kitchen was finished, we had "minimalized" the house, and we were ready to set everything back in its place.  The kids decided to play a relaxing game of Super Mario to celebrate and they asked me where the Wii had gone.  I said I wasn't sure to look in the boxes that were left.  No one could find the Wii.  Eventually I asked what the Wii looked like.  I'm pretty sure they described the TV contraption thingie that I took to Goodwill.  And that's when the yelling, hysteria, crying, and blaming started.

MOM GAVE THE WII TO GOODWILL.

CAN YOU BELIEVE MOM GAVE THE WII TO GOODWILL?

MOM DOESN'T KNOW WHAT A WII LOOKS LIKE AND SHE GAVE IT TO GOODWILL.

WE DON'T HAVE OUR WII ANYMORE BECAUSE OUR MOM GAVE IT TO GOODWILL.

DAD - MOM GAVE THE WII TO GOODWILL!

CAN WE GO TO GOODWILL AND BUY IT BACK?

I swear to God.  It's been almost a year and there is still hate about the Wii.  My 15 year old daughter (self-proclaimed Super Mario expert - I'm not sure what level, but she knows everything about Super Mario) is about to purchase a new/used Wii with her own money and my kids are crazy excited about the prospect of having a Wii again.

As you could guess, I haven't missed the Wii (God knows I couldn't even recognize the damn thing).  But I must say a part of me is looking forward to hearing that catchy Super Mario tune again and maybe practicing my dance moves with Just Dance.

It took a long time for the kids to forgive and forget not bring this up on a daily basis.  There was a little retribution a few weeks after the Wii was discovered missing.  I went to do my favorite ab/core workout video and all I could find was the DVD cover.  At that point all the boxes were unpacked so I could not imagine where it had gone.  Then it occurred to me.  It was in the old DVD player.

I was pissed.  I regretted putting the tube TV to the curb.  I regretted putting all the old crap in boxes.  Hell, at that point I considered going to all the 27 Goodwills in our city and hunting down our Wii and DVD player, and our VCR for that matter.  I thought about the great deal someone got on our Wii and the DVD player.  With my favorite DVD in it!  

I take responsibility.  I mistakingly gave a perfectly working Wii to Goodwill.  But, like many people, I have served my sentence.  Karma played her hand and there went my DVD that kept me in shape.  I now have no core muscles and no visible abs.  I tell my kids, "Mom has served her time."  I lift my shirt slightly to show my muffin top and silence ensues.  The kids shrink out of the kitchen mumbling indecipherable comments.  Sometimes the gods just put everything in place.

Case closed.  Score even.

The end.

some of my more notable traits

years ago when the kids were little i read in some parenting book that to encourage your kids to appreciate and truly care for each other it is sometimes helpful to do activities to encourage love.  of course, i tried them all and experienced moderate success.  my kids are older now and they still fight like crazy people, but i'd like to think that somewhere in their hearts they do love each other.  (this is certainly questionable and up for debate.)

so, we used to do this activity where we said things we loved about each other.  a variation of this activity that the kids started doing lately is to say things about each other that they wish they had for themselves.  they are usually physical traits (three of my four kids are quite vain), but if i am within hearing distance i try to encourage more altruistic traits like, y'know, "i love your enthusiasm for life," "i love your calm nature in the face of extreme stress."  but, usually they just continue with, "i love your cheekbones.  i really wish i had them."  "i love the number of instagram followers you have."  (because, y'know, they're teenagers, not humanitarians.)

the other day, while the four of them were playing the "game," girl 2 said, "oh my god!  i know!  let's have mom play with us!  let's all think of traits of mom's we'd love!!!"

*crickets*

after a good two minutes of complete silence, girl 1 (the one child who is not vain and who is actually quite profound), said, "well, i'd have to say, and this might sound really shallow, if i had to have one of mom's traits, i'd really love her hairlessness."

happy mother's day!  i hope it was........waxed.

Can I get a sub?

School ends June 7th here and this teacher and my four kids (and hubby by default) are just trying to make it to then alive and fairly intact.

So, here's my list.  Maybe you can relate.

Things that have basically shut down since April and/or will have to wait until summer.

1.  My kids (both my classroom kids and my own kids) have basically lost all desire to go to class.  At calendar time in my Pre-school classroom invariably a student asks if we are done yet.  At first I thought this meant Are we done with calendar time yet?  but, reflecting more, I think it means Are we done with PreK yet?  I'm fairly certain that my nine year old (on a few occasions in April) has kept hot water in her mouth, taken her temp in the morning and told me she has a fever.  This is something the 16 year old might have taught her - and if it were September I would take more time to research.  My eighth grader told me Thursday as I was driving her to school (after missing the bus four days in a row) that she didn't have time to go to school.  Kids are done, y'all.

2.  There are no more family dinners happening in my home.  I started the year gung-ho.  Six to seven balanced dinners planned, prepped, and ready to be cooked each night promptly at 6:00 p.m. because we're "so busy" but not too busy to eat together as a family because that's what makes families bonded and mentally stable.  Yesterday, five of my six family members (and a friend) were gathered around the dinner table around 9:45 p.m. eating one freezer burnt egg roll from Costco (because I forgot to buy more), some clumpy, quickly made white rice, a salad, a slightly brown banana, cheese nachos, and bean and cheese tacos (prepared by the girl who is too busy to go to school).  It was kinda happy and normal until you saw that it was almost 10 p.m. and the food was like a sad buffet of What's Left in the Fridge.  And my nine year was saying, "Mom, I've had cheese nachos for about a week now.  Are you ever going to cook real food again?"  To which I replied, "Yes, we will eat real food again when summer is here."

3.  A well made up face that doesn't look tired is not a thing for this teacher now.  Each day I put on my "make-up" (a loose term that means powder and such from August of last year that still is spreadable to my face) and everyday I think, "On my first day off in June, I'm going to Ulta and buying more of everything in this bag."  I squeeze the tube of concealer to get just enough to smear under each harried and haggard eye, I vigorously brush the eye-shadow rectangle sides hoping that I'll get enough on the brush to actually look like I have shadow on, and I swipe the mostly bare mascara brush over my lashes.  I spritz myself with about one milliliter of cologne that I am refusing to throw away because when I tilt it all the way to the side I can still see an 1/8 of a drop in the bottle.

4.  Lesson planning (this may be a local thing) is kinda over.  My lesson plans in August were detailed.  I told my principal exactly what was supposed to happen down to who will take a breath, when, why, and how I will know they are breathing.  This week's lesson plans said, "Finish last week's work/Assess."

5.  I havne't even bothered to get my Personal Calendar (similar to my bible - you know how I love lists) out of my teacher bag in a week.  Up until last week, I diligently wrote every little thing I needed to do each and every day in my planner/calendar and religiously crossed it out every evening as it had been completed.  Now, I have no idea what needs to be done daily.  I am living minute to minute and hoping that we get through the day everyday until June without losing the house due to forgetting to pay the mortgage.

6.  The kids' clothes are tired and so are mine.  Several days this month one of the kids has told me something like, "Mom, I need new *shoes, jeans, t-shirts, bras* these just don't fit anymore.  Can we go shopping?"  And, I've said something vague but hopeful like, "Yes.  Make a list.  The first day of summer vacation, I promise, we are going shopping."

7.  My okay-ish cleaning has really taken a backseat.  There are so many prints on the windows it's hard to see out of them and the baseboards are grimy.  I keep looking at both thinking, "I really should clean those."  Followed by, "June 11.  I'm putting it on the list for June 11.  Where's my calendar?  Oh, in my bag.  Which is still in the trunk."

8.  I've got health issues to deal with that are just going to have to wait.  The doctor's office politely says, "Can you come in Monday morning at 8:00 a.m.?"  I want to scream, "DID YOU NOT HEAR ME WHEN I TOLD YOU I'M A TEACHER?  THERE ARE NO SUBS.  IT'S APRIL.  IF THERE WERE SUBS THEY WERE GONE BY DECEMBER.  I CANNOT LEAVE FOUR YEAR OLDS UNATTENDED.  THEY WILL EAT EACH OTHER.  JUNE 11TH.  I CAN COME IN JUNE 11TH."

There is a holding pattern that sets in about this time.  Absolutely urgent things get done (most of the time) and everything else kind of sits.

As I stare May down in the face, I have no doubt that the Grim Reaper could look at a teacher and say, "She's mine today."  The teacher, if she saw him, would just shrug and say, "Yeah.  It'll have to wait till summer or until I can get a sub."

I'm turning hippie but it's okay because my kid is already there.

It's been an enlightening couple of months to say the least.  Here's some of what's been happening. 

I am turning into a hippie.  Not the braless kind (you can rest easy now).  Just the kind that makes homemade $hit.

I know.  It's kinda weird.  But, don't judge (or at least hold it until the end).

I have stopped shampooing my hair.  Now, I'm only about five years late on this trend, but that's sooner than I jump on most bandwagons.  So, really I'm just in time.

Today this revolution of not shampooing my hair led to cleaning out my fridge which led to cleaning my freezer which led to discovering some meat that I swear had been in there for about three years so I'm gonna call it a win for all of us.

Yes, I have joined the "millions of women" who have said no to shampoo.  I consulted The Google and Say No To 'Poo is almost as scary and ineffective as Say No To Drugs.  All we need is Nancy heading us up (wait, is she dead?).  Had you told me a few weeks ago that I was going to do this I would have said, "Are you high?"  But, now that I am on Day 18 (more or less) it feels like I was born to do this. 

Now, usually I would say Who The F*ck Cares? and I am still inclined to say that - except for the fact that I CLEANED MY FRIDGE, Y'ALL.  And, not just half a$$ the way I usually do - y'know the wipe down while you are holding a cup of coffee?  (Or am I the only one?)  No, today was a full-on clean the freakin' fridge.  (Even the freezer - which happened to be where the suspect meat was hiding - right behind two gallons of ice cream preventing me from putting my homemade shampoo down.)

Which is more riveting for you and completely self-absorbed for me?  The fact that I am no longer shampooing or the old meat?  Okay.  I'll start with the no shampooing.  Yes, it's weird.  Yes, my hair feels like I am a short order cook for McDonald's.  Yes, I might smell a little funky.  Yes, I am still showering.  Yes, strange phenomena have been occurring all over my head.  And, it just gets crazier.

Today I made shampoo (right before I made fire and the wheel).  Say what?  Ms. DayInTheLife made shampoo?  Yes.  I did.  From coconut milk and Aloe Vera Gel.  Then I froze it (because - duh - coconut milk is perishable).  And that's where it got real.  I had no room in my freezer to put the ice trays with shampoo in them.  (If it sounds like I am high right about now, it's because I am.)  I decided then that it was time to clean out the fridge and freezer. 

Now here's the thing.  I hate to clean (a well documented fact on this blog).  I hate to clean appliances even more than stuff like toilets.  Exactly how much do I hate to clean?  Well, I'm gonna put the Last Cleaning Of The Fridge at somewhere around the time my six year old was born? 

See, I've been REALLY wanting a new fridge because this:

Yeah.  With that for a front it's just pointless to ever clean it.

Don't worry.  I keep all that yuck covered with this magnets like this:

Just like when a light is on on my dashboard and I put a little toy up there to cover it.  This method works like a charm.

But, because I needed to make room for the poo, I bit the bullet and cleaned that fridge out.  That's when I found the Old Meat.  It was liberating to throw that meat in the trash.  Heck, I don't even like meat now that I'm a hippie.  That made it even better.

And, now that the inside of the fridge is really, really clean and there is nothing in there that I didn't just buy (or make) this morning I am really feeling high (on life).  Oh, and also my earth friendly (albeit weirda$$) shampoo is in there for the next time I decide to shampoo my hair. 

Homemade shampoo in ice trays.  Did I just type that?

What could be better?  It's one of those days where I feel like I am making a difference for the world.

So, how does my kid factor into this equation?  Well, in the most unexpected way.

I got home from work last night and my six year old told me she made this for Jesus.

"It's a STAR."  (Obviously.  We knew that.)

Super!  Turns out I'm not the only one becoming a hippie in our family. 

In Which I Go To A Movie Theatre

I am not being paid by Disney to do this review, but really I should be.

Mr. DayInTheLife and I took two of our kids to see a movie last night.  We are not movie theatre goers.  So I am proud to say that if this is the only theatre movie we see in all of 2015, we made an excellent choice.

Why Seeing a Pre-Screening of McFarland USA Yesterday Evening With My Family Was The Best Decision I've Made Since Earlier Yesterday When I Ate a Whole Not a Half of a Cinnamon Roll


"McFarland, USA poster" by Source. Licensed under Fair use via Wikipedia - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:McFarland,_USA_poster.jpg#mediaviewer/File:McFarland,_USA_poster.jpg

I encourage you to click the link, but if you are not inclined to do so here is the premise of the movie from The Google: 

 

Track coach Jim White (Kevin Costner) is a newcomer to a predominantly Latino high-school in California's Central Valley. Coach White and his new students find that they have much to learn about one another, but things begin to change when White realizes the boys' exceptional running ability. More than just physical prowess drives the teens to succeed; their strong family ties, incredible work ethic and commitment to their team all play a factor in forging these novice runners into champions.

 

1.  The boys' families in the movie are migrant workers.  Nearly all of our kids' grandparents were migrant workers at some point in their lives and just like the families in the movie they worked hard to ensure a better life for their kids.  I am not sure my kids knew what exactly migrant workers were until last night.  Now, they know.  Don't worry, I am not that naïve to think that a Disney portrayal of migrant life would nail it completely, but at least we are further along in the explanation than we were before the movie. 

2.  This movie borders on sappy a few times, but it is a great family movie that, unless you are completely heartless, will have you cheering.

3.  There is no sex, no violence, no drugs, and nothing really of questionable content.  And yet, it tells a pretty amazing story of perseverance in the face of incredible odds.

4.  I am an ex-teacher and I will always have a special place in my heart for teachers.  As rainbows and unicorns as this sounds, I truly believe teachers can change lives for the better.  Of course, there is the flip-side of that coin and I believe whole-heartedly in that, too.  This is a story in which the teacher/coach changes lives for the good.  And, yet (as you will see at the end of the movie when script is run about what happened to all the real life characters) life still happens and just because you are a high school phenomena does not mean you will not still make some poor decisions.

5.  I ran cross country track in high school.  I can't say this brought back any fond memories for me.  I mostly hated cross country track and I wasn't fast.  And, now I think you know I run because I love to eat.  Despite that, I thought about these boys today on my run.  I tried not to because I really hate sentimentality.  But I couldn't help it.  They made me not be so whiny in my head.  Me not whiny?  That's powerful stuff.

This movie made me happy.  It's the right stuff.  It's based on events that really happened that make for a great story.  It's about real people that worked amazingly hard and it paid off for them. 

McFarland USA premieres February 20.  Get yer' butts off the sofa and take some loved ones to see it!  You'll thank me after.

Didn't we do this already?

My kids are freaking me out.

I was at a conference the other day and the speaker said that middle school students and preteens behave a lot like toddlers.  Yes and yesser. 

I made you a list because I can't think about some of these things for too long or I think my head will explode or I will have to sanitize myself head to foot.

1.  Toddlers need their butts wiped.  My teenage/preteen bathroom is constantly out of toilet paper.  Until I replace it.  This begs the critical question:  How are they wiping their butts?

2.  Ditto for toothpaste.

3.  Meltdowns.  Toddlers meltdown because you won't let them play with sharp scissors.  My thirteen year old and preteens meltdown because I won't let them see The Interview.

4.  Food issues.  Toddlers just want to eat hot dogs and Polly Pocket accessories.  My teenagers just want to eat carbs and Lindt  chocolates.

5.  Clothing issues.  Toddler girls want to wear the Snow White dress everywhere.  All the time.  If you say no, see #3.  Teenagers and preteens have to do their own laundry and when there is no more underwear instead of doing their laundry see #3.

6.  Which brings me to Clean Up, Clean Up, This is How We Clean Up.  Remember that?  Toddlers hate it.  Usually it's like the Clean Up music cues #3.  Ditto for teenagers.  I tell them to do their chores and it's like I am saying, "Katy Perry is dead.  Now, move on with your lives." 

7.  Toddlers will make you a faithful follower in the religion of Reverse Psychology.  If you say, "Do NOT put that in your mouth," said item will immediately go in their mouth.  I scream to my teens, "TURN THAT MUSIC DOWN RIGHT NOW."  Immediately the volume raises a number.  Your sanity is called into question daily because you want to just say, "Y'know what?  PLAY YOUR MUSIC AT FULL VOLUME AND PRESS YOUR EAR RIGHT TO THE SPEAKER.  YOU WILL NOT BE DEAF IN A MATTER OF SECONDS."

8.  Pushing my buttons.  Scientifically based on my six years raising toddlers, they are born with an instinctive ability to know what will make you plumb crazy and they do it 24/7.  With a smile usually.  Ditto for teenagers/preteens.  Daily I say through gritted teeth, "Do not roll your eyes at me."  Usually this is met with another eye roll (add a smirk).

9.  Toddlers do this thing where they become limp in the grocery store.  Like a cat who has been given a sedative.  Teenagers do that same thing.  Often times in the morning when it's time to get up for school.  Or sometimes when they have to do #6 and they don't go straight to #3.

10.  I'm pretty sure it's based on science that toddlers can melt your heart in less than a nanosecond (and if you are not a rocket scientist, that's pretty damn fast).  Surprise, surprise.  Teenagers can do the same.

Aw!  Happy endings, y'all!  Turns out my teenager and preteens have not made me totally bitter yet.  I still have a heart!

Memory Making 2014 (in which I do math).

So, recently I have been learning that you need an advanced college degree and a year to do nothing but plan in order to successfully get a family of six to Disneyworld.

We recently made our annual trip to a smaller scale amusement park (and by smaller scale I mean:  no college degree needed and - I can imagine - slightly less gleaming restrooms?) and although I would do it again (in approximately 360 days) I think a time allowance chart for less experienced parents on par with the Disneyworld planning blogs might be helpful.

I wanted to make you guys a pie graph (blueberry?) for this post, but I got too distracted with colors and accurate percentages and I was afraid that before I knew it my oldest would be filling out college applications and hubby would be asking me (again), "What are you doing?" 

Amusement Park Trip Time Breakdowns (approximate) For a Family of Six's Ten Hour Day 

1.  20% - walking around lost because everyone is too excited and then too hot to look at the map.
2.  20% - waiting for all the rides to open because you get there at Opening Time because you think logically it's the time the rides open. 
3.  50% - explaining that your admission ticket does not cover the cost of all the carny games that actually open at Opening Time and that there isn't really a "Winner every time!"
4.  60% - waiting in line for drinks because you waited until August to go and it's 106 degrees outside with 117% humidity.
5.  60% - waiting in line for bathrooms (see #4).
6.  20% - yelling at kids not to touch anything in the bathroom.
7.  40% - touching things in the public bathrooms (this applies to kids under 5 who you've told not to touch anything see #6).
8.  60% - in line for rides because of all the people using the Flash Pass.
9.  40% - explaining to four kids that yes, the rules are different for people with more money.  They don't have to wait in line with The Other People at amusement parks. 
10.  20% - applying sunscreen.
11.  40% - examining all the nuts and bolts on the two rides you convince yourself to go on.
12.  75% - praying your kids don't get their bathing suits stuck up their rears requiring surgical removal from the ride they continue going on which they proclaim loudly and enthusiastically gives them "a major wedgie".
13.  95% - in line for a funnel cake on the way out the door (right behind the approximately 1005 people who had the same idea).
14.  2% - inhaling said funnel cake with five other people.
15.  50% - talking about where to buy a funnel cake maker and what exactly is in a funnel cake that makes it so good. 
16.  50% - exclaiming repeatedly how that funnel cake is the best use of $10 since you bought two Frappuccino's in a row.
17.  20% - proclaiming earth shattering sentences that start with, "When we come next year..."
18.  20% - proclaiming equally earth shattering sentences that start with, "Remember last year..."
19.  100% - enjoying the heck out of the last days of summer.

No danger of lost bottoms or a wedgie.  And?  When I go next year I'm wearing the same red suit.

It's either writer's block or menopause. Either way I've gained 10 pounds.

Summer is almost over and I've not written a blog post since June 4.  I will not try to explain this except to say, in a move reminiscent of Janet Jackson at Superbowl VIIXIVITIT, I lost my swimsuit bottoms in a public pool shortly after summer started.  I might have PTSD.

After a long pause in blog production there are some things that are bound to annoy the crap out of readers.

1.  Trying to explain why there has been an extreme pause in writing. 

So, let me attempt to explain the long pause in writing.  I cleaned my copper bottom pans.  Jesus.  My lack of tricep muscles are still sore and I think I found the decomposed remains of Jimmy Hoffa under the black burned stuff that was on my pots.  On the upside - I can now taste my food and I will not be mildly embarrassed if Paula Deen chances by and decides to melt me some butter sprinkled with cheese and then salted (under the guise that she is a reformed diabetic racist).

2.  Trying to explain previous blog topics and why they didn't work. 

So, here are some things I have tried to write about in the past month and then after a rereading - promptly eaten the results (which could explain why I've gained 10 pounds).

a.  How Much I Hate Barbie.  Did you know that along with being an astronaut, physicist, hooker, veterinarian, and entrepreneur, she writes books now?  And (surprise) they read a lot like the genius script from Two Broke Girls.  Because I would never believe it unless I saw it, I've included one of the pages from the book that clearly makes me proud to support public libraries through all my fines.  In case the captions look like they're in Chinese (the book was made in China, after all), I've included the (interpreted) script for you below.



Unnamed character:  Barbie!  Ken's here!  Barbie:  Oh no!  I don't have my brain in yet!  Brunette:  Barbie!  Remember, you don't have a brain!  Barbie:  Oh, yeah!  That's a relief!

  And now I think I should be a published (paid) author.

b.  How Much I Hate Insurance. 

Insurance - n.noun

1. The act, business, or system of screwing.
2. The state of being screwed.
3. A means of being screwed.
4. Coverage by a contract binding a party to indemnify another against specified loss in return for premiums paid unless such premiums go toward a "deductible" in which case the party paying the premiums is screwed out of their premiums and stuck with said specified losses.  (See #1-3.)
5. The sum or rate for which such a contract insures something or not (See #4).
6. The periodic premium paid for this coverage.  "Coverage" being a relative term dependent on the amount of said deductible which is relative and rises in relation to the amount in which the paying party is being screwed.
7. A protective measure.
8. Bullshit.

Term in use:  I f*cking hate insurance.

c.  My inability to cook even with a recipe.

Here is what I made just this morning from a biscuit recipe:

Whatthef*ckisthat?

Y'know how some people have suffered tremendous stress and then go on to like win the Olympics?  Well, I'm kind of like that.  I have suffered the loss of ruining virtually every recipe I've set out to cook and yet I've managed to come out a winner almost every time.

*Eating that idea now.  (And, it's quite delicious I might add.  Score!)*

e.  Like every other female on the planet my hormones are all out of whack.  I think I've narrowed down my afflictions (thank you, WebMD) to either ebola, menopause, a stubbed toe, or a hangnail.  The list of symptoms of menopause is a blog in and of itself (the title of that blog is:  Menopause - Serve Yourself Some More Cake).  I seem to have experienced just a few symptoms (not a comprehensive list) in the time I've had writer's block:  fatigue, depression, hot flashes, mood swings, sudden tears, inability to articulate or write, inability to cook or do laundry, sudden bouts of bloat (although apparently not enough to make the elastic in my swimsuit bottoms hold), gastrointestinal distress (could be related to my cooking?), disturbing memory loss, increased tension in the muscles, and tinnitus (could be due to my kids not being in school?).

3.  Trying to describe how much you have missed your readers.

If it weren't for virtual friends, I'd have no friends at all and I know you guys have all been reading everyone else's superior blogs and having a party without me.  What can I say?  It hurts.

So, I will not try to tell you why I've been gone, what I've been doing instead of blogging, what topics have just not worked, or how much I've missed you guys.  As some guy once said in AA, "Today I am not enjoying life as it occurs.  Today I am blogging about it instead.  I'm not sure when I will do this again and I will not make any promises.  But today I hope you guys will join me."  (Or something like that.)

It's all fun and games till the poop runs out of the diaper.

So, remember I said I was going to a baby shower?  Well, I did and it was fun.  We played all the standard games and despite being the somewhat successful mother of four children ("successful" in that all of my kids are still alive) I sucked at most all of them.  My lack of short and long term memory got in the way.  I got my clothes pin stolen after I'd worn it for about three minutes.  We couldn't say "baby" and I immediately referenced how I didn't win any games at my baby shower.  Duh.  I forgot not to say the word after three minutes.  (I knew I should have written it down.)

Anyway.  We played baby charades which was amusing.  Amusing because it's always fun to see what people will do under the guise of "acting it out."  The friend who is having the baby did an Oscar worthy silent interpretation of putting butt cream on a baby's a$$.  It was her two-fingered approach that made one of our team members (it might have been me) scream "DIAPER CREAM!"

But, here's the thing.  The words we had to act out (that I can remember) were:  diaper cream, stroller, baby food, diaper, diaper genie, wipes, baby backpack, robe (I had this one and made the mistake of buttoning rather than tying my robe which prevented any of my teammates from guessing the word.  They were screaming at me, "WHO BUTTONS A BABY'S ROBE???"  My question to them was, "WHOSE BABY WEARS A FREAKING ROBE???  HUGH HEFNER'S?  Cheesus.). 

Now, it's been nearly six years since I had an infant underfoot (figuratively), but I have a somewhat different memory of how infancy went down.  Here are a few words and situations that I'd like to see on the cards in a baby shower charade game.

• cleaning around the future bellybutton
• sore nipples
• ear infection
• projectile vomiting
• meconium
• poop outside the diaper
• breast pump
• being peed on while changing a diaper
• peeing while balancing a nursing baby
• brushing your teeth for the first time in a week
• mastitis
• severe sleep deprivation
• carpal tunnel from carrying the car seat
• colic
• spit-up
• spit-up stains

Let's face it, 90% of the next 18 years of this soon-to-be momma's life is going to be spent dealing with, discussing, or thinking about food, $hit, cleanliness, pain, or sleep. 

Might as well get an early start with it?

If you are missing something, it might have been under my fridge.

So I've been doing a lot lately (besides watching every single show on Netflix).  Here's a list that will sum it up nicely (or just sum it up) and be easier (and I hope more entertaining) than me trying to explain it all.

1.  Bandit my dog is an awful painter's helper.  He took a fair amount of spackle off the wall in one fell swoop.  He tried to eat the painter's brushes when he was washing them (right after he'd had his first bath in about eight months naturally).  He drank the painter's Big Gulp because he left it on the table.  He ate the painter's tacos because the painter did not learn from his mistake.  And he ate numerous pieces of old (and new) baseboards like they were treats we'd bought just for him.

2.  The painter is still willing to come back to do another job upstairs.

3.  There are still people in the world with "work ethic." (I'm not talking about myself here.  "Duh," you say.)

4.  My kids *might* have careers in stand up.  Or I'm unusually prejudice (most likely the latter and my kids will be living with me for a long time which I probably will not find funny at all). 

5.  The time between spring break and summer can be compared to the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas.  It's painful for parents, kids, and teachers alike.  The kids are done learning anything.  So, naturally that's when the state testing occurs.

6.  It is possible to overthink things.  This can result in hours of time spent thinking and not actually doing.  I fall victim to this phenomena a lot and it explains quite a bit about the status of my life.

7.  When you've been married over 20 years another wedding and all the ensuing presents would be helpful and probably less expensive than trying to re-do your house with your own income.  I am considering a huge 25 year anniversary party.  I will not write Please no gifts on the invitations.  In fact, I'm asking Prudie if it would be presumptuous and rude to register.  At Target.

8.  My entire paycheck has gone to Target the past few months.  Wouldn't it be easier for me to just move in there?  I guess I could offer to work a few hours, too?  And promise to wear only red and khaki?

9.  Netflix has ruined regular TV for me.  It happened slowly, but I'm pretty sure now that I can't watch regular TV anymore.  SPOILER ALERT.  I knew something huge was happening on The Good Wife and I still finished Luther on Netflix that night instead.  What's wrong with me?  Then I read in the paper that Will died and I didn't really care unless I can watch it on Netflix.  Again, Will's dead!  What's wrong with me?

10.  The kids have discovered the dog whisperer on Netflix.  I've told you guys before how much I don't really like him?  I mean really.  If my parents watched the dog whisperer I think they'd think he was dropping acid (if my parents know what that is).  But, whatever.  The kids have told me that it's the owners that must be trained (yeah, I suspected a train wreck coming, too).  And that *maybe* Bandit behaves the way he does because of me.  So, basically the dog whisperer has taught my kids that parenting dogs and kids is basically the same.  The parents will invariably be blamed for everything.

10.  When you do home repair, maintenance, and painting it makes you feel good.  It also makes you notice all the things you didn't do.  How many permanent handprints will be on all the doors before we can repaint them all, too? 

11.  Painting also can make you want to clean everything.  Remember about a year ago when I went bat $hit crazy and tried to organize every area of my house?  Well, damn it if it didn't all get dirty and disorganized again.  The hell?  So, now I'm on a cleaning frenzy again.

12.  I don't pay my house cleaner enough.  She hasn't been here in a while because the chaos would probably give her a coronary and it takes everything out of me to clean the house.  Aside from the fact that it's covered in a thin layer of painting dust/grime, I'm just not a good house cleaner. 

13.  I cleaned under the stove for the first time in about 11 years and there was an ecosystem growing under there.  It was horrific, but I did find quite a few lost toys, magnets, kitchen tools, and popcorn from the early 2000's.  No more gourmet popcorn for Bandit.  Turns out he likes years old popcorn that's covered with goo just as much!

14.  This motivated me to clean under the other three movable appliances.  Not one of the five people I live with (or Bandit) noticed or cared that I'd done it.  The hell?  Lesson?  Not doing it again for another 10-20 years. 

15.  After seven years of having three of our four kids taking piano lessons and all practicing on a digital keyboard, we bought a piano.  Now, I've never seen the movie We Bought A Zoo (if it's on Netflix, though, there's a good chance I might see it someday), but I wanted to make a mockumentary for reality TV called We Bought a Piano.  They're *kinda* like children or dogs.  You have to take care of them, they respond to temperature changes, if you treat them right they can provide joy for you your entire life, they need annual tunings (sometimes more if they get sick), they're fragile, and they cost a buttload of money.  I'm hoping this piano does not want to go to college.

16.  I miss you guys a lot.  I've vowed to be better about reading my favorite blogs and I've vowed to post more.  But let's be honest.  This might be my last post for a while or until I get out of rehab.  Last night around 10:30 p.m. hubby and I started doing something we'd been putting off for a while.  We had sex?  No.  We started Breaking Bad.   

Six days (give or take) and I'll be back.  Maybe.

Fairy Tales for $10,000.

So, Girl 3 and I were at Costco when we saw this ginormous stock pot.


Being the non-cook that I am I guess I'll have to agree with Girl 3 on this one.

Girl 3 said, "What is THAT for?"

I said, "I have no idea."

To which Girl 3 said, "Well, I do.  It's for witches.  When they cook children."

Will this still be okay when it's not my birthday?

Yesterday I celebrated not dying for one more year.  And as an optimistic friend reminded me I'm "one more day closer to death."  Thank you, optimistic friend.

To celebrate this day my kids did everything I asked them the first time, completed their chores without complaining, and I didn't have to lift a finger all day.

And I won a hundred million dollars.

(That didn't happen either.)

What did happen is something that reminded me that on your birthday you are entitled to do the things that maybe all year long you try to limit.  Examples:  eat cake for all three meals, drink a martini at 8:00 a.m., shop till all your credit cards are declined, gab on the phone with all your friends who call while all your work emails go unanswered, etc.

I personally have been trying not to use commas excessively, and, also, more importantly to try to maintain a positive attitude, and not complain.

So, I think you can imagine how this card from Girl 3 made my entire day and might win a contest somewhere for................creativity?

To Mom I hope you have a good bich!  (Thank you!  Done and dunner!)

Does comedy pay well? How about bad comedy?

Me:  This pain in my lower back is awful.  It's radiating down to my thigh now.

Boy Child:  Wow.  That sounds bad.

Me:  (Is this concern?  Is this concern for his mother???)  Yeah, it is.

Boy Child:  So, it's radiating down to your thigh?  And are you sure this pain is not just in your head?

Me:  (Wait.  This does not sound like concern.  This sounds like something else.)  (In my tight lipped impatient mom voice.)  Yes.  I am quite sure it's not in my head.

Boy Child:  Then it sounds like you might need a thighchiatrist.

There it is.

If you are in front of the bus, do not turn right (or something like that).

Some signs are jacked up, right?  I mean driving is pretty simple, but some signs are just nuts.

Well, when I read, "NO RIGHT TURN IN FRONT OF THE BUS," which is the sign that is on the back of every city bus in our fine city, I have always figured that's pretty straightforward. 

Until this.

Boy Child (in the Yukon Cornelius - behind a city bus):  Mom, I've never understood that sign, "NO RIGHT TURN IN FRONT OF THE BUS."

Me:  What's not to understand?  You can't turn right in front of the bus.

Boy Child:  I get that.  But, why?

Me:  Um.  Duh.  Because the bus will smack you?

Boy Child:  Huh?

Me:  BECAUSE THE BUS WILL SMACK YOU.

Boy Child:  How?  I don't get that.

Me:  (While driving because it's safe to take both hands off the wheel if you are trying to illustrate a dangerous driving technique with your hands...........while driving.)  Okay.  Look.  Pretend my left hand is our truck and my right hand is the bus.  So, here we are driving and I go to make a right turn in front of the bus.  And, BAM.  The bus smacks me.  Now do you get it?

Boy Child:  OOOOOOOOOOOH!  I have always thought that NO RIGHT TURN IN FRONT OF THE BUS meant that if you were driving in front of the bus you could never make a right turn.  Get it?  And like how would you ever be able to get where you were going?  Y'know like pretend my left hand is us..............

Me:  I get it.  But if that were the scenario how would you even be able to read the sign.

Boy Child:  Good point.

photo courtesy:  www.smosh.com 

I predict a long future of living at home.

You may want to read about this before reading this post.  Or, if you're not all that into reading feel free to just forge ahead.

Considering the transition to middle school has been a bit rough, I was giving Boy Child the "run down" on the way to the bus stop this morning.

Me:  Do you have your lunch?  Your homework?  Your gym clothes?  Your sax?  Your Essential Elements book?  DO YOU HAVE EVERYTHING?

Boy Child:  Jeez.  Yes, mom.  I have everything.  Oh!  I forgot to tell you something important!  I can't believe I almost forgot!

Me:  Let me guess - you have an important paper for me to sign?

Boy Child:  No, jeez.  I said important, mom.  Guess what happened yesterday!

Me:  Can't wait to hear.

Boy Child:  I SAW A UFO.

Me:  Really?  Really, son.  You saw a UFO?

Boy Child:  Yes!!!

Me:  Okay!  Have a great day at school!  I love you!

Boy Child (looking at me with a look that is usually reserved for cancer and death):  Wait.  I read this book one time and....

Me:  WAIT!  I know what you're going to say.  The book had the phone number to call if you saw a UFO?

Boy Child:  Jeez, mom.  How'd you know that?  That's kinda creepy the way you did that.  Yeah, I really wish I had that number now.

Me (rife with sarcasm):  Yeah, now would be the perfect time to report.

Boy Child (with a look of insane seriousness):  No kidding!  I gotta get that book back!!!!

P.S.  I walked back in the house and found his lunch sitting on the kitchen table.

P.S.S.  Just found Essential Elements on the table.  Cheese N. Rice.

Or maybe you will?

 

The Girl Who Lived in a Prophylactic. *Almost* sounds like a movie, right?

Conversation in the Yukon Cornelius.

Girl 1:  Mom, why does Patsy (name changed to protect the innocent) live in a condom?

Me:  Um.  EXCUSE ME?

Girl 1:  Wait.  No, that's not right.  Not a condom.  A condominium.

Me:  Cheesus.  Wait.  Who lives in a condominium???  Sometimes called a CONDO.  NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH A CONDOM.

Girl 1:  Which, by the way, what is a condom again?

Me:  Can we have this conversation another time?  Please?

Girl 1:  Yes, it's okay, mom.  Anyway I'm pretty sure I know and now I feel just silly for making that mistake, but I'm so glad it was with you and not, y'know, the public?

Me:  Yes.  Me, too.

Girl 1:  So, why does she live in a condo?  That's like those double houses, right?  Oh, wait.  That's complex, right?  Not, like I have a complex, but like she lives in a complex.  Wait.  Is it a complex?  It's something that sounds like condo and complex.

Me:  CHEESUS.  A DUPLEX???

Girl 1:  THAT'S IT!!!  A DUPLEX!!!  Jeez, mom.  What took you so long to say the right word?

Self confidence? Check.

Hubby had this idea that this would be the School Year of Goal Setting.  So, as a family we sat down at the beginning of the school year and wrote down a few personal goals for the month or year or day.  We shared them and we check our progress toward/revise our goals as a family on Sunday evenings.  I know, so Cleaverish of us, right?

Here's what Girl 2 wrote the first time.

#1?  She's seen me make a *few.*  Three out of four of my kids were born with no volume control, hence #2.  #3?  That was all her.

Her first time checking her own progress she proclaimed loudly, "Be awesome?  Definitely a big check!"

I guess self confidence is not one of her weaknesses.  Awesome.

A. None of the above. B. All of the above. C. What is the above. D. The teacher is crazy.

Heated conversation with one of my children in the Yukon Cornelius (whose AC is broken - thank you 112 degree "fall" weather) after he/she told me he/she got an "F" on a quiz.

Me:  So what exactly was the problem because an "F" was certainly not the first grade I was expecting you to get on a quiz the second week of school?  Was this review???  

(I did exhibit extreme self-control by not ending with, "FOR GOD'S SAKE.")

Child:  Well, the quiz was only 10 questions.  I legitimately got three wrong.  But, the fourth one just didn't make any sense.

Me:  How do you mean?

Child:  Well, the answers made no sense.

Me:  How do you mean?

Child:  Well, the correct answer was "None of the above."

Me:  So, what's weird about that?  By this time you should be familiar with answers such as:  None of the above, All of the above, A and C, B and D, F and F!, I mean B and C.

Child:  Well, here's the thing, "None of the above" is usually the last answer.  This "None of the above" was the first answer.  Y'know? 

Me:  Like it was A?

Child:  Yeah.

Me:  Well, did  you know that all the other answers were wrong?

Child:  Yeah, weird, but I did actually know that.

('Weird' indeed.)

Me:  So, wouldn't it have made sense that none of the answers were right?  Like, "None of the above," implies?

Child:  Well, no because there was nothing above the "None of the above" except for the previous question.  It should have said, "None of the below."

Me:  So, what did you mark?

Child:  One of the wrong answers.  And I got it wrong!  Can you believe that?  If you ask me that's just crazy.  The teacher's just crazy.  "None of the above" wasn't technically the right answer.

Me:  *Banging my sweaty head on the steering wheel.*