Thanksgiving Edition (in which I flip the bird)

(photo credit:  mattalltrades.blogspot.com.)  

It's like six days away from all of us sticking our hands up a bird's cavity at some ungodly hour in remembrance of Pilgrims and Indians Native Americans.  Is it safe to say you guys are all past this advice:  Buy the turkey, don't run into it?  Defrost the turkey?  Don't get salmonella?  Make sure the oven's on?

So, I decided since you guys clepped out of that drivel you might need some real tips to help take your Thanksgiving to the proverbial 'next level' (let's hope it's not the burning ring of hell level).

You're welcome.

Here we go.

1.  Read this.  It has nothing to do with Thanksgiving, but I'm thinking of making it my About Me page. 

2.  Thanksgiving is stressful, but it pales in comparison to the next 30 days.  So, instead of those name plates from paper you wove yourself, give everyone a shiny party blower and some fireworks.  It's kinda like the last day of summer (except you might not want to wear a bathing suit).

3.  And don't wear a costume either.  It confuses your guests.

4.  I'm an introvert (see #1).  But, damn it if like four of the five people in my inner circle have birthdays near Thanksgiving.  Sucks for them because they get Turkey Surprise! for their birthday dinner and their presents all come wrapped for Christmas.  Try to avoid making friends with these people.

5.  Don't eat turkey before Thanksgiving.  I recommend leaving approximately 364 days in between the times you eat turkey.

6.  Become a vegetarian and go gluten free right before Thanksgiving.  This will annoy the crap out of everyone you know thereby greatly relieving your stress.  You will have no family and friends left to dine with on the big day.

7.  When you cook the bird, flip it.  I did this completely by accident about 20 years ago.  It was my first turkey (I think I can tell you that, right?) and I had no idea what kind of protection to use, where to put my hands, what went in where, or which way was up.  Everyone raved at how smart I was because the breast? thigh? wing?  testicles? came out so juicy and moist because they were left to simmer in their own juices.  (I have no idea what I'm talking about, but it sounds like we're ready for #8.)

8.  Any mistake can be covered up with a "delicious gravy."  (This tip I actually stole from NPR.) 

This is what "delicious gravy" looks like.  I think you can find it on aisle 10.

Author's Note:  Turns out this isn't entirely true.  "Delicious gravy" does not remove gum from the dryer.

9.  Hubby knows a little rhyming joke about pumpkin pie (circa The Bible - or when he was in middle school).  As much as I cringe when I hear the joke I cannot get it out of my mind and it goes without saying that I cannot eat pumpkin pie.  Unless there is a lot of whip cream.  Or just whip cream.  Straight from the can into my mouth.  And a shot for my coffee.

(photo credit:  gumblestump.com)  That's about right.

10.  Alcohol.  If possible start drinking it right after your first pot of coffee (which will be at about 5 in the morning if you are cooking a 20 pound bird and want to eat while you are still upright).

11.  If you need a new foundation (or I would venture to say any home repair costing more than a grand), consider frying your turkey.

12.  If you have kids, you may need to brush up on Sqanto and the Wampanogs, so you can appropriately discuss this at the dinner table (you might want to follow that with The Trail of Tears just so that everyone is sufficiently depressed and so that there is an edge of reality to your history).  (Hint:  Wampanog is not a verb as in:  I'm gonna wampanog your a$$ if you don't make your bed.)

14.  Just in case there is not enough tryptophan in your turkey this year, I recommend crushing up sleeping pills in the stuffing.  This will ensure you can watch Not Football on TV.  

15.  This came from NPR, too:  When all else fails there is always The Google.  I've used this search before 'Restaurants open on Thanksgiving this year.'

Have a good one and I'll save you a piece of pie (or the whole pie).

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?

 

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.*

What's the best time to call you? Millertime? (I'm guessing that's not the right answer?)

I haven't been posting in a while.  Here's mostly why:

1.  Boy child is now playing the alto sax.  When I first found out he was going to play this instrument I pictured him playing jazz while I sipped a smooth drink.  That hasn't happened so far.  It's more like a cacophony of sound that makes you want to stab yourself.  Everyday it happens for 20 minutes during which time I cannot do anything but sit down and breathe slowly.

2.  About three weeks ago Girl 3 threw a laptop through the front window.  There are three positive aspects of this story. 

• It was a toy laptop (that weighed probably more than the real laptops).
• Our windows are cheap, but double paned.  Only one pane shattered.  We still haven't fixed it because we are those ghetto neighbors.
• She was really aiming at her brother's head, not the window.  Wait.  How is that a positive?  I can't remember.

This brought all "summer fun" to a screeching halt and four short people were enlisted into the Mommy Hell Camp for the remainder of the summer.  Barking orders at them and consistently disciplining (consistently) really took it all out of me.  I really wanted us to go to family counseling after this incident or at least write a letter to Prudie.  Sadly, I don't believe in counseling and our insurance doesn't pay for counseling (I think) until a small animal dies and I remember hearing Prudie retired? 

So, I diagnosed us myself. 

Diagnosis?  We are crazy.

3.  I hurt myself.  It's an annoying kind of painfully painful pain (that's the scientific description) and so far (based on Google) I might have:

• A sprained or fractured lumbar
• A tumor in my back
• Kidney disease
• Sciatica
• Pregnancy
• Endemitriosis
• Scoliosis
• Kidney stones
• Osteoarthritis or
• Fibromyalgia

I might live a lot longer with this pain.  Or I might die.  Google doesn't seem to really be that specific.  I haven't exercised in about four weeks and I have so much fat and stress in my body that I feel like I might spontaneously combust at any moment.  On the upside if that happens, I may get the medical and psychiatric help I need.

4.  My kids started school.  This means I have spent the last two days filling out paperwork.

• What's the best time to call you?
• Have you read the discipline policy?
• Is your child allowed to access the internet at school?
• Where do you work?
• Do you understand that if his electronic device breaks at school it is not the school's fault?
• Have you had a criminal background check?
• What race are you?
• Do you want to volunteer?
• Do you want to sell a box of The World's Finest Chocolate?

Two days in and I already want them to drop out.

5.  Two of my favorite bloggers closed down their blogs.  They were both really great writers.  One of them was related to me, so naturally she was/is amazingly talented.  So, of course it made me sad.  But it also made me want to shut mine down and sent me into this crazy tailspin.  Some kind of weird funk came over me (not the stinky kind) and I just decided to quit and do something I'm good at. 

But, then I couldn't think of anything to do, so I just tried to remember that Laughter Is The Best Medicine and I (wasted some good time that I could have been effectively and consistently disciplining my children or telling the schools where I work) Googled some really funny shiz. 

Real people doing their thing. 

I love them and I laugh like it's the first time every time. 

And, thanks, you guys for writing such funny stuff too that always makes me laugh. 

And, happy Labor Day because this one post took me three days to write and now it's a holiday!

World's Finest Chocolate?

Really?  So, nothing from Switzerland?

Our first child graduated! The job prospects don't look too good, and peeing or pooping on the floor is still a possibility. But no one ever said parenting was easy, right?

Anyone want to adopt a recent graduate?

So, puppy graduated from Puppy School Friday night.  (Or as hubby has become fond of saying, "He finally got his dog-torate.)  (I didn't say the jokes were good.)



1.  Around 3:00 p.m. on Friday - approximately four hours before the graduation ceremony, I started to feel guilty about not baking puppy a cake, or sending out invitations to his graduation (*maybe* I'd been drinking).  But, Lady Luck was on my side! 

Coincidentally I was baking three cakes (my human children were having a fundraiser the next day).  As usual, I tried to burn the house down while making the cakes.  This resulted in a lot of gooey cake batter pouring out of the oven door and spilling onto the floor.  This resulted in a Huge Clean Up.....and a trip to the store for more beer.

Thankfully, puppy was playing outside while the smoke alarms were sounding and billowing black smoke mixed with brown sugar and butter was oozing out of my 350 degree oven.

Where's the Lady Luck part?  You ask. 

When puppy came in he licked every surface of my closed oven door and drawer and the entire surface area of the wood floor on which my stove sits.............obsessively for about two hours.   AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND, I let him!  Because I owed him. 

THEN, I let him wash it all down with some delicious toilet water!  I'm pretty sure he had a huge grin on his face.

Puppy, you are welcome!  Happy Graduation!

2.  In the Yukon Cornelius on the way to the ceremony I was telling the family about how puppy just loves Cheez Whiz and that we should have gotten him some for his graduation.  I then told them about how the vet feeds puppy Cheez Whiz on a tongue depressor when she needs to do something to him. 

Girl 1 said, "Oh, you mean like when she needs to put a tongue depressor in his mouth?"

I said, "Um.  No."

Girl 3 said, "Oh, you mean like when he does something good."

I said, "Um.  No."

Girl 1 said, "So, when does the vet do that exactly?"

I said, "Y'know?  Like when she needs to stick something up his butt.  Like a thermometer."

Most of the Yukon Cornelius' passengers snickered after that quite loudly.

Then hubby said (snickering the loudest), "Well, I like Cheez Whiz, a lot, too....................but, I am not falling for that trick."

I think we all felt closer to hubby after that.  So, thank you hubby.

3.  Since puppy went from birth to graduation in eight months, I did not have time to make him a scrapbook documenting every milestone he has passed.  (Plus, I really didn't want my last two human children to be jealous since they only have one page scrapbooks themselves which basically document the fact that they were indeed born.) 

I think it's okay though because during the graduation I took about 8000 photos with my phone and they all look like this:

Can you tell what the f*ck that is?  No, me neither.

So, clearly he's an ungrateful bastard when it comes to memories and important milestones.

4.  I think my four year old might be ready to graduate pretty soon. 

Puppy knows about one command (sit) to about the 50th percentile  mark when compared to other border collie mutts his own age.  And he was able to graduate in the State of Texas (apparently otherwise known as the State of Poor Testing Standards).  And the chance that he will be within the 50th percent of obeying this command increases exponentially (if I may be so brave as to use a word that I don't fully understand) if you are holding a bacon treat.

This got me thinking - Girl 3 might be pretty close to graduating herself! 

She knows about one command (the actual command depends on her mood, how much sleep she's had, what distractions are present, and other sundry factors) to about the 50th percentile mark when compared to other mischievous four year old girls who think they are diva queens.  The chance that she will be in the 50th percent of obeying your command increases exponentially if you are holding a brand new Barbie in your hand and threatening her with loss of technology while simultaneously promising to buy her the new Barbie.

Graduation, for another child - here we come!!!

5.  I'm afraid we might look like a lot of other parents who just had recent graduates.  Disappointingly, despite one of our children having completed a major accomplishment, life looks pretty much the way it did before we had a child graduate.

He still lays around the house all day seemingly doing nothing, waiting for someone to give him food, clean up after him, and play games with him.  He has yet to get out of the house and look for a stinkin' job, and as far as I can tell he is still not making enough money to pay his own way, let alone his cell phone bill.

Bandit before graduation.

Bandit after graduation.  See the difference?  No?  Me neither.

 

Top 10 Ways I Am Nicer Than A Substitute

Real life conversation:

Boy Child:  We had a sub today.  It was Ms. So and So.  She's so nice.  I think she's my favorite sub ever.

Girl 2:  Isn't she the one who has a strict policy of no screaming?

Boy Child:  Yes.  She's so unbelievably patient.  I really like her.

Girl 2:  Oh my gosh.  I love her.

Me:  Really?  You love her?  Isn't that a bit strong?  Y'know for a sub?  But I guess the no screaming thing sounds like a good policy.  Is she young?

Boy Child:  No.  She's a retired teacher.  I think she's about 67.  And, really mom.  Lots of kids love her.

Girl 1:  Oh, yeah.  She's super, super nice.  I wish I had been in her class when she was still teaching.

*more gushing about said substitute teacher*

Boy Child:  Yeah.....she's nicer than you, mom.

*dead silence*

Girl 1:  Aw.  That's kinda mean.  I don't think she makes chocolate chip cookies like mom................at least I don't think she does.  At least she hasn't brought them to school.

Me:  I'm right here.  I can hear you.

So, I bring you - The Top 10 Ways I Am Nicer Than A Substitute (Kinda..........depending on what kind of day I'm having and who the substitute is)

10.  I don't feel pressured to wear holiday sweaters or jewelry.  I just do it out of pure love for the holidays and the kids.

9.  I have a disobedient dog who is an asshead, but I don't run him over with my Yukon because the kids love him.

8.  When I see kids I know in the supermarket and my cart is full of beer and tampons, I don't hide.  I go right up and say, "Hey!  Don't I know you?"

7.  I don't need a lesson plan that someone else wrote to direct my day.  I fly straight by the seat of my pants.  Usually this involves something nice.  And fun.

6.  I have a strict policy of no screaming.  Instituted Monday through Friday between the hours of midnight and 2 a.m.

5.  I don't rely on the "know it all" in the room to tell me what to do.  I just know instinctively what I am supposed to do.  Sometimes it involves screaming.  It is sometimes nice.  And fun.

4.  I don't use bribery to make the kids behave.

3.  I usually know all my  kids' names.

2.  I can nicely improvise better than frat kids on quarter drink night.

And the top reason why I am nicer than a substitute:

1.  I make chocolate chip cookies.

What the what?

I took all the kids to get flu shots.  On a Monday.  In the rain.  (Not really.  It wasn't raining, but it felt like it should have been.)

So, all four kids were all done getting shots and we were exiting the building.  Although we love our pediatrician, she runs her practice from a seedy strip mall.  Her offices are lovely on the inside, but here are the other (often closed, ever changing) businesses located in the same strip mall that could be there on any given day in any combination:

1.  A laundry mat (which is most likely a front).
2.  A gaming shop (which is most likely a front and into which I have only ever seen shady looking adult men go).
3.  A place where you can presumably eat fruit called "Fruity Coma" which is like some ridiculous combination of Spanish and English which literally means fruity eat?  I don't understand it and I don't ever want to understand it.
4.  A barbacoa shop.  (Barbacoa - in case you are not from Mexico or South Texas - is the meat from the cheek of the cow.  It is sinfully delicious and just a little gross.)  It is never open.  The sign on the front says something like, "Closed on Monday.  Closed on Tuesday.  Closed on Wednesday.  Closed on Thursday.  Closed on Friday.  Open on Saturday if and when the barbacoa is ready.  Closed when sold out.  Open on Sunday until we run out."  I am exhausted every time I read this sign, and I never want to go there.
5.  A pharmacy (which I thought was selling legitimate drugs).
6.  Some sort of tobacco store (which I also thought was legitimate and which was apparently closed this particular day).

As we were exiting the office, Girl 1 said, "Hmm.  There used to be a pharmacy there."  I heard her, and in my head I said, "Baby, there used to be a lot of things here."

As we were driving home Girl 1 said again, "Mom?  You know that pharmacy that used to be next to Dr. L's office?"

I said, "Hmhmm."

"Well, it looked like it was closed down.  That's kinda good because it never really looked like a real pharmacy in the first place.  You know the kind where you get drugs?"

I said, "Uh-huh.  Exactly." In my head I said, "Baby, you could probably get drugs a lot of places at that strip mall."

Boy child then said, "Wait.  What?  I don't think it did either, Girl 1.  It looked like some kind of weird place and there were always weird signs on the door."

Girl 1, "Yeah.  I know.  Like for smoking and stuff?  Right?"

That made me pay attention and so then I said, "Wait.  What?  Are you guys talking about that pharmacy next to Dr. L's?  The one that had the Dora and Mickey Mouse signs on it?  And some medicare signs???"

Girl 1, "No.  That place looked like it was still open.  We're talking about the other place.  The other pharmacy."

I said, "What?  I'm confused."

Boy child, "Mom!  We're talking about the other pharmacy in that strip mall.  Y'know the one where they sell real drugs."

I said (weakly), "Real drugs?  What are you talking about?"

Boy child, "Yeah.  Y'know real drugs.  Like cigarettes, and beer, and tobacco."

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

Inevitably on one of my many trips to my kids' school, I will see what one of my kids wrote on their What I Did On My Summer Vacation report upon returning to school and I will cringe and hope that their teacher didn't read the papers with a fine tooth comb or that some over achieving parent didn't read it so that I do not have to suffer the smirks when they meet me later and think back, "Oh, that's the parent that had the kid that said they 'got yelled at a lot on their summer vacation.'"

Is there anything as old as What I Did On My Summer Vacation papers?  I mean, did the baby T-Rex do it, too?  It's like this pre-historic ritual dating back to fire and/or the wheel.

Because I am an ex-teacher and because I have four kids and like to be prepared (ha-ha), we usually practice what the kids are going to write right before we go back to school so that no one writes:  "Nothing," or "Fought a lot with my sisters," or "Ate loads of junk food and watched inappropriate TV."  Not that any of my kids have ever done any of that.

This year I decided to hell with the kids.  I'm going to practice and refine my own report.  So, that's what I did.  (Minus the practicing - this is pretty much straight from my muddled, middle-aged brain to yours - not that you are muddled or middle-aged, but if you are, I'm sorry.) 

What I Did On My Summer Vacation

1.  I failed to practice No Child Left Behind during our vacation at a family resort and inadvertently did not notice that Girl 3 was missing from the elevator until the elevator doors closed.  Thanks to a quick acting husband who springs into action when there is any emergency, Girl 3 was found unscathed and in the presence of several kind strangers who were trying to elicit from her her name and her parents' name.  Hubby immediately told them all, "Thank you!!!" and "Her mother lost track of her and got on the elevator without her."  Thank you, hubby.

2.  I taught Girl 3 how to spell her name.  Well, I didn't really teach her.  Hubby and Girl 1 did.  (Too bad they didn't do that before we lost her, eh?)  I'm putting it on my list, though, because technically if they could put it on their lists, so could I. 

3.  I took on one more job - bringing my grand total to four.  So, if my list next year says, "Took a vacation in the Crazy House," y'all will know why.

4.  I learned how to cook Quinoa.  And I learned to like it.  I know.  That's crazy, huh?  More on that in another post.

5.  I made more cake pops than one person who is clumsy, has no gift for detail, is impatient, and can't really bake should EVER make.  I did not improve one iota.

6.  I finished more books than I had the time to finish the entire school year of 2011-2012. 

7.  I worked out diligently.  I know.  Blech.  But, recently I bought hubby a scale.  I stepped on it (the first time I've been on a scale since our last one broke - I don't think from weight, but who knows) and I weigh nine pounds less than the last time I stepped on a scale.  It's probably wrong, but I'll take something that is wrong that makes me feel accomplished than something that is accurate that makes me want to throw in the towel. 

8.  I slept insanely late (eight-ish) some days, and went to be insanely early some days (eight-ish). 

9.  I mostly gave up processed food.  Again.

10.  And the best thing I did this summer that may (or may not) give me the strength to get through this treacherous school year:  I laughed a lot at my kids, with my kids, and around my kids.

I hope your summer was memorable in a fabulous way and that you find yourself ready for this school year, and that if you aren't ready that you find yourself with lots of beer and dark chocolate to get you through.

First Week of School 2012-2013 Realities

1.  Come Thursday of the first week of school, I will not be able to process a single coherent thought.
2.  With each child I will take less photos (if any), less enthusiastically.
3.  Fifth grade is not for the weak (teachers or students...or parents).
4.  I have changed my "employment" status (again) to "Self employed."  And, although it is not entirely accurate, I like it.
5.  I *might have been* at school this first week as much as the principal.  (She and I discussed this in depth.)
6.  There is not much accomplished during Meet the Teacher each year.  I am less and less motivated to attend.  (This is no fault of the teachers or staff.)
7.  P.T.A.
8.  P.T.A. fund raiser (at least it's chocolate this year?)
9.  P.T.A. chocolate fund raiser.  I mean, really?  Are they trying to kill me personally?
10.  It's Sunday morning at 11:37 a.m. after the first week of school.  I have not brushed my teeth, I still have the clothes on that I slept in, I have managed to read many more pages of the fabulous book I am reading, I have not even stepped out of the house to get the paper, I have had enough sleep, and I am thinking I *might* be able to survive the second week of school.

If I could have had a fake baby in high school, maybe I'd be writing a different blog.

So, in case you missed it, Girl 3 has been a bit of a mobster lately.  Like always happens in my life (call it caramel - what my kids constantly confuse for KARMA), I was getting a little too smug and self-righteous and BAM my kid started acting like the devil on speed.  I would normally (and I use that term relatively - mainly because my relatives are not normal) be able to handle it, but in case you don't have a CALENDAR there are nine more days of school left.  When there are less than 30 days of school left, kids go completely bat$hit crazy, apparently.  I don't really know how to explain what happens in the ten, nine, and seven year old brains of kids who have less than 30 days of school left in the school year.  I think scientifically speaking some of the brain matter actually transforms into monkey brain matter and they go ape-nuts in terms of their movements and total lack of respect (And, come to think of it, their potty inappropriateness.  Potty inappropriateness is the main reason I don't like to see the monkeys at the zoo - and I think you know what I am talking about here.)  So, the fact that we are minutes away from the end of school and life as we know it will change drastically AND the fact that Girl 3 *might* really be from the streets of Sicily, momma (me) is going a little insane.  (I refer to myself in the third person a lot when I am stressed out.  Bring momma a drink STAT.  Momma is getting highly annoyed.  Momma is gonna pull off this highway soon if you guys don't zip it!  You get the point.)

Fast forward to yesterday when Girl 3 and I were purchasing blinds (the ones for the windows, not the people) at Lowe's.  Girl 3 had been exceptionally polite and patient while I made a blind purchase and we were checking out.  It was at this point that we both saw a young girl who looked to be breast feeding a small baby.  Here was why I thought that is what it was.  I saw a girl (who looked to be around 16) holding a smallish lump covered with a baby blanket (it was light pink) to her chest kind of sidewayish.  Then I saw a small baby foot on one end of the blanket and on the other end a bald headish type thing.  My brain said, "Teenage mom breast feeding her baby."  Then my brain said, "La Leche unite and be proud."  Then my brain said, "Sad for teenage pregnancy.  Happy for breast feeding mom?"  I put a question mark because sometimes I question my own brain which is why I probably need some sort of therapy.  But I can't afford it so I just have a free blog.

While I was busy trying to figure out my own brain, Girl 3 said, "Look momma.  A girl with a baby.  What's she doing?"

I mumbled, "Mm-hmm."  And tried to quickly figure out if I should say, "Breast feeding her baby."  Or, "I don't know."  Then the teenage girl gave us a really strange smile. 

Now, I can usually read people and their looks well.  For example I can tell when people (especially my own breed of people - moms) are saying:

• BACK the *&ck up because someone is gonna get hurt real bad.
• I need a drink.
• I just want to find the exit so I can get this kid to the car.
• What's wrong with your child?
• Don't you know how to stop that?

And I could go on and on, but those are just a sampling of the "looks" that I have gotten used to reading. 

But, this was a look I was totally unfamiliar with.  It seemed to be saying something like, "I'm not sure...what are you looking at?...I'm so embarrassed...this isn't what you think."

So, I said to baby, "I don't know."  And that's a good thing because right about then the girl's blanket fell a little to reveal A FAKE BABY. 

Now, you may be thinking, "How did you know it was a FAKE BABY and not a baby doll?"  (Because we all know they are easy to confuse.)  (???)

I knew it was a FAKE BABY because it was scarily real.  It looked like a Pampers commercial, not like Baby Alive (who, I think, looks kinda like Chucky's cousin).

Then Girl 3 said, "Why does that girl have a fake baby?"  (And, yes, I was amazed that she used the words fake baby.  Or, possibly she didn't use the words fake baby and simply said baby doll.  But, I would like to think my kid is a genius even though she's mean as hell.)

Without thinking I said, "Because that's what they do in high school.  They learn how to take care of fake babies."

Then a timer located somewhere inside the fake baby or somewhere near the baby (I am not sure which because I never had a fake baby in high school, which could explain a lot of things that have happened to me since high school.) started going off.  And then Girl 3 got a look on her face that I can only describe as, "WHAT THE WHAT???"

Seriously?  Is it any wonder Girl 3 is screwed up? 

Someone who looked to be the high school girls' mother (her real mother, presumably, not her fake mother) smiled knowingly over in our direction and said sugary sweetly, "Fake baby."  The exact same way someone might say "cancer," or "jealousy," or "sibling rivalry."

So, I did the only thing I could think to do.  I nodded in Girl 3's direction, forced a smile (I am sure my eyes had glazed over by this point) and said, "Real baby."  Then I winked for good measure.

You better believe I whisked Girl 3 out of Lowe's as fast as her little legs could carry her because I just plain did not have the energy to discuss high school, breast feeding, fake babies, real moms, and timers.

Unfortunately we were not fast enough because outside we encountered Teenage Mom and Fake Baby.  Teenage Mom was swinging Fake Baby in an infant carrier to soothe Fake Baby so that she would stop crying (or her timer would go off) (and the fact that I just typed that sentence is testament to my weakening brain matter).

Again, Girl 3 gave me the "What the what???"  Except this time she smiled crazily and looked a little defeated and said, "Look momma.  That girl is swinging her fake baby."

I nodded and kept quiet.

We got to the car and on the way home Girl 3 said, "Momma.  I don't wanna go to high school."

Clearly we have some explaining to do in the next 12 to 13 years.  Thank you, Teenage Moms and Fake Babies.

plz xcuse my splg.

I'm taking a break from the painting (which I haven't actually started yet) to bring you a post that is overdue and just too hilarious (in my own mind) to resist. 

Now, when it comes to my kids I try to love them all equally and not play favorites.  And, by love them all equally and not play favorites I mean they all get made fun of.........by me...........on my blog.........equally. 

I hesitated for a while before writing this post becuase I didn't want you to think I was a cruel mom who found her childrens' shortcomings, difficulties and gloatings hilarious.  Then I decided - I am a cruel mom who finds her kids' boastings, shortcomings and difficulties often times hilarious and it's about time you knew the truth.  So, hate me if you must.

A few weeks ago we were headed out of town as a family and Boy Child decided it would be fun to play a little game called Spelling Bee.  The school spelling bee had just finished and he could not stop talking about how great it was and how he couldn't believe he hadn't participated because he is such an amazing speller and could have beaten them all.  Now when he said, "Hey, girls want to play Spelling Bee?  I am the best speller.  Way better than either of you and I am going to be in the Spelling Bee at school next year."  Hubby and I exchanged a silent smirk (if you are parents, you know the ones) because spelling is not the boy's strong point and generally he hates it.  He started having difficulty with spelling whenever it is in school when the spelling words have more than two or three letters.  Don't get me wrong, he brings home many hundreds on spelling tests because he has a great memory, but he could give a flip about how words are spelled.  Often times we get notes like the following, "Mom, can u pls do my drte lawndre?"  (We have never actually gotten a note like that because he hates to write too, but you get the idea.) 

Girl 1, on the other hand, is an excellent speller.  And, like some kids love candy, she loves to spell.  As I have said many times, she is a wordsmith, so spelling is essential to her.  She, of course, gets more than hundreds on her spelling tests because she always gets extra points for the bonus words.  It's like spelling is inate for her.  She can often times spell words that she doesn't even know. 

So, you can imagine that when the boy challenged the girls to a spelling competition in the Yukon, hubby and I were intrigued.  Did I mention Boy Child is supremely competitive and the girls really don't care who wins?

Here is how it went down:

Boy:  What do you think, girls?  Do you wanna play?  I'm really good at spelling and I'll probably win, but what do you think?

Girl 1:  A spelling bee?  That's a great idea.  I love spelling.

Girl 2:  Okay.  I'll play.

Girl 3:  I know how to spell!!!  F says, fa!  Did I spell that right?

Boy:  Okay.  So, here's how it goes (he then ran through the condensed version of the Scripps National Spelling Bee rules and guidelines for the girls who were bored and mostly ignored him).

Hubby and I:  More silent snickering

Girl 1:  Go.  We're ready give us the word.

Boy:  Well, since I'm probably the best speller I'll get the first word.

Hubby:  Okay.  Your word is "decide".


Boy:  That's super easy.  Decide.  D-e-s-i-d!  Decide.

Hubby and I exchange a glance and smile that said, "Wonder how long this will go on?"


Hubby:  Wrong.  Girl 1 gets the word.

Girl 1:  Okay.  D-e-c-i-d-e.

Boy:  YOU DIDN'T SAY THE WORD BEFORE AND AFTER.

Girl 1:  Oh, who cares?  Did I get it right?

Hubby:  Yes.  Great.  Try to remember to say the word before and after.  Okay.  Girl 2 - "sharp".

Hubby smirks at me and I smirk back at his choice of word.


Girl 2:  Sharp.  S-h-a-r-p.  Sharp.

Me:  Great!  Good job. 

Girl 3:  I want a word!!!  It's my turn!!!

Me:  Okay, Girl 3.  "Princess."

Girl 3:  Pa, pa, P!!!  DID I GET IT RIGHT???

All the kids:  YES.  YOU GOT IT RIGHT.  NOW BE QUIET SO WE CAN HAVE OUR SPELLING BEE.  (Did I mention how loving and patient our kids are?)

Hubby:  Okay, Boy.  "Awesome."

I smirk at hubby silently saying, "Nice word choice."


Boy:  Awesome.  A-u-s-u-m!  Awesome.

Me:  Wrong.  Sorry, buddy.  Girl 1, "Awesome."

Girl 1:  Hmm.  A-w-e-s-o-m-e!  Is that right?

Me:  Yes.  Good job.  Girl 2, "tired."

Hubby mouths, "Ha!"

Girl 2:  T-i-r-d-e.

Me:  Nice try.  Boy, "tired."

Girl 3:  IT'S MY TURN.

All the kids:  YOU CAN'T SPELL.

Girl 3:  Melts down into whining and excessive crying about how she is a big girl and can spell.

Hubby turns to me and quietly says, "Please shoot me."

I say back, "Then who will drive?"

Boy:  Okay, so my word.  T-i-r-e-d!  I think I got it right?

Me:  Nice.  Correct.  Girl 1, "exhausted."

More silent smirking and inappropriate comments between hubby and I.

Girl 1:  E-x-h-a-u-s-t-e-d.

Me:  Nice work.  Girl 2, "boring."

Girl 2:  B-o-r-i-n-g!

Hubby:  Nice, Girl 2. 

Boy:  Okay, dad.  I'm ready for a super hard word!

Hubby:  Okay.  "Achiever."

Boy:  Hmm.  A.........ch?  E?  V?  Er!  Achiever!  Wait.  Did I say "ei" or "ie"?  I think it's "ei".

Me:  Not quite.  But, close!  Girl 1?

Girl 1:  A-c-h-i-e-v-e-r!  Is that right?

Me:  Yes.

Boy:  Hmm.  Okay, so, it looks like I'm winning.  Let's make this last word a really, super hard word, okay?  And this will be the grand championship!

Hubby actually does a snort.

Hubby:  Okay.  Grand championship word:  "Successful!" Boy?

Boy:  Hmm.  S-u-x-s-e?  Wait.  Let me start over.  S-u-c-s-e-s-f-u-l!  Wait.  I think two L's.  Is that right?

Hubby:  I don't think so.

Me:  Girl 1?

Girl 1:  S-u-c-c-e-s-s-f-u-l.  Is that right?

Boy:  WAIT!  Don't say it!  Let Girl 2 try it and then the one who got it right is the grand champion speller of all spellers.

Hubby and me:  Okay.

Girl 2.  Hmm.  Successful.  That's kind of hard for a second grader.  But, I think it's spelled s-u-c-c-e-s-f-u-l.

Me:  SO CLOSE.  Girl 1 is the winner.  Grand champion of all spellers.

Boy:  Slightly less enthusiastic.  Good job, Girl 1.

Girl 1:  Smiling.

Minutes pass in silence.  Hubby and I are silently snickering and trying not to say anything inappropriate or hurtful.

Boy:  I guess spelling is hard.  I don't know if I'm going to be in the Spelling Bee next year.  I guess it depends on what I'm doing that day.

Me:  Yeah.  That's probably a good idea.  Wait and see how you feel then and practice your spelling in the mean time.

Hubby much later as we are getting ready for bed:  What in God's name made him think of a Spelling Bee???  And THEN think he'd win???  She's like the best speller of all time. 

We both dissolve into a good five minutes of hopelessly funny re-enactions of the Spelling Bee and laughter full of snorting.

Me:  I don't know.  Are we cruel and horrible parents to think this is so gosh dang hilarious?

Hubby:  Yes. 

I'm still torn between horrifying self-realization and the enjoyment of a hilarious parenting moment.  I guess it's nice to know who we are.  Right?  Have a great weekend and plz xcuse my splng.

P.S.  Because there is always The Great Equalizer with which to contend, the spell check on Blogger is not working at this moment.  Thanks.

Thank you, public education for keeping me sober. This week. So far.

So, it's no secret how I feel about Red Ribbon Week.  Although, I must say it kinda seems like my kids' elementary school decision-makers read my blog post last year *gasp*.  I say this, because this year Red Ribbon Week Schedule has actually been...manageable.  Since the majority of the people in the world are not reading my blog, I suspect what actually happened was that they had someone serving on the Very Important Committee That Makes Red Ribbon Week Decisions who actually has a child.  In public school.  Participating in Red Ribbon Week.  *GASP*  The first step in making it a successful year (in keeping parents sober) was sending the Red Ribbon Week Schedule home a WEEK EARLY.  So great.  We had one full week to prepare and buy crap we don't need this year.  Thank you, public education!  I will not mention how a few people thought that because the note went home a week early, Red Ribbon Week was October 17-21.  Therefore their kids showed up at school all peace-ed out for no good reason.  Nor, will I gloat by saying: -I was not one of those people!

Here's the 2011 Red Ribbon Week Run-Down (and although I am delighted at not wanting to drink heavily after reading it, I must admit I am a tad disappointed in the lack of fanfare, chaos, and household fighting):

Monday - Say Peace Out To Drugs.  Wear your tie-dye shirts and/or peace symbols.  Since both of my girls love peace symbols and since the nine year old boy is content this year with, "Just saying no," I really have no comment on this.  But, I would be remiss if I did not repeat what I said last year.  If you remember the 70's - you were not there.  So, I remain conflicted about invoking the "Peace" symbol as a symbol of No Drugs.  It seems a bit like a mixed message.  Girl 1 and 2 left the house looking cute as bugs and as far as I know they remained drug free all day. 

Tuesday - Don't Let Drugs Give You The Blues.  Wear your blue jeans.  Fabulous!  I almost thought it was a joke when I read it - it was so easy.  It seemed a little surreal.  Like I had been serving on the committee and I had said, "Why not just something simple that everyone already has.  *Insert long pause.*  Like BLUE JEANS?!"  No blue hair?  No obscure outfit from the 40's?  No "paint your face two different colors"???  This one seems to have been made for Slacker Moms like me.  After all, what sane kid living in America doesn't have a pair of jeans???  I'll tell you what kid.  Girl 2.  She has not one pair of jeans.  She hates jeans.  She hasn't worn jeans since she was two and I forced her into them.  Hubby says she has "sensory issues."  I say she likes to drive her mom crazy when shopping for clothes.  I digress, and either way - SHE DOESN'T HAVE JEANS.  So, there was ONE unhappy camper in my house yesterday morning.  BUT, it's okay - because this did not make me want to drink a beer.  Just a teensy bit.  Girl 1 and Boy Child left with jeans on and remained drug free all day (as far as I know).  I think Girl 2, despite not wearing jeans, remained drug-free too.

Wednesday - (Pay attention because here's where it gets tricky.) My Future Shines Bright Drug-Free.  Wear your shades to school.  So, typically people with sensory issues don't like stuff on their faces.  But, Girl 2 agreed to wear some of my old sunglasses and Girl 1 did, too (What are the odds that I kept two pairs of old sunglasses???  It's creepy.).  Boy Child agreed to wear some of his dad's sunglasses.  Sa-weet.  Our first day participating in drug-free week as a family.  I was positively giddy and wanted a cocktail to celebrate!  Then:  As soon as I got back from delivering them all to the bus stop - I found all three pairs of glasses sitting on the table.  I pray they can resist the temptations today without their eye wear.

Thursday - Life is a journey, Travel Drug Free.  Wear a shirt from another city, state or country.  Now, my comment on this one is just going to be a quick re-cap of the conversation I had with Girl 1 two weeks ago when the Red Ribbon Schedule first came home.

Girl 1 - (Diligently reading me the entire Red Ribbon Week Schedule and inserting her own cute little eight-year-old comments.)  Thursday Life is a journey.  Travel Drug Free.  Wear a shirt from another city, state or country.  Ha-ha.  That's funny, mom 'cuz y'know what I thought at first?
Me - No, what?
Girl 1 - That it was okay to do drugs in another place like another country or city or state.  But, just not in your own home or place where you live.  Hahahahahahahaha.  THAT would be ridiculous, huh?
Me:  Yes.  That would be ridiculous.

Enough said.

Friday - Insert Elementary School Name and Mascot are PROUD to be Drug-free.  Wear your spirit shirts.  I love this one.  We all have spirit shirts and we all like to wear them.  I will NOT even drink a celebratory beer for this one..............well, maybe............................but just one.

It's Wednesday and I am proud to say we are all drug-free so far.  No one has a shirt from another city, state, country, or planet (we have four kids and are too poor to travel), so the jury is still out on whether we will remain drug-free for the week.  But, it seems Red Ribbon Week just keeps getting better and better.  Frankly, I am excited for what 2012 has to offer me in terms of tricks to stay drug-free.  Good luck staying drug-free, friends and HAPPY RED RIBBON WEEK!

What's Wrong With Kids These Days???

Remember the good 'ole days when we had "gym" not "physical education"?  And it was all about public humiliation and popularity not self-esteem, cooperation, and actually being physically fit?  Well, apparently in the New Age Physical Education real-life games and the rules of real-life games are not actually taught.  Or even implied.  This was brought to the front and center recently when my husband suggested we play dodge ball as a family.  This was the collective response from our kids,  "What's dodge ball?"

Now, you guys remember DODGE BALL, right?  The game where you desperately tried to escape being hit with this largish red rubber ball that actually hurt when it hit you???  It was fun, right?  It usually came right between tug-of-war (when you got actual rope burns on your hands) and climbing all the way up that rope net thing (a "sport" only soldiers have to do now).

So, you can imagine what hubby said when our kids admitted to not having a clue what Dodge Ball was, "YOU GUYS DON'T KNOW WHAT DODGE BALL IS???  WHAT DO YOU KNOW???"  (I am not even kidding.)  Then to me quietly (well, not really because he doesn't know how to be quiet), "What the hell do they teach these kids in public school now-a-days?"  

After a lot of necessary bruising while hubby and I schooled the kids on dodge ball something even more alarming was brought to my attention.  Kids are not playing Kick Ball anymore. 

I find this shocking and frankly, I am appalled. 

Going back (don't worry I'll go quickly) to my elementary school years when the Gym Coach looked like Janet Reno, kick ball was a game I could excel at.  Well, maybe excel is a bit generous.  Let's just say I could play it.  I have few to none athletic abilities and I pretty much hate all sports (which is why I ran track in high school - I learned to run somewhat quickly to escape being hit with a dodge ball - or any ball - by kids who were much more athletic than I was).  But, Kick Ball?  Now, there was a game I could actually play.  The ball is big so less danger of 1.  Getting hurt seriously - large bruises, but less black eyes, 2.  Not missing it when it is coming right toward you, 3.  The rules are the same or close to the same as baseball (which, seriously, even a Sport Moron like me can keep up with baseball).

Since I have few memories of crying and throwing up when we played kick ball in Gym, I have decided to make it my personal mission to teach my kids how to play kick ball.  This comes right on the heels of teaching them to play Two Square (I won't even go into how they didn't know how to play THAT???).  The craziness that has ensued is far too much to be able to relate here, so I have made you a short list that I call: 

Kick Ball - The Train Wreck

1.  My kids have never been involved in organized sports and learning the rules of sport.  No organized sports here - except BMX where the goal is pretty simple:  finish without dying.  The actual rules are too complicated for me and someone is usually there to tell you what to do when you are not dead so no one new really has to learn all the rules.  You can tell they've never had to learn sport rules when you try to TEACH THEM RULES OF A SPORT.  It's a bit like herding cats.
2.  My kids have no concept of bases.  This is difficult because sometimes STILL (even though we have talked about "running the bases") they will run after each other, ball in hand, all the way to the neighbor's house in an attempt to get the other person out.  I guess "making it to First Base" is a lost concept on my kids.  And I don't know if I am happy or frightened.
3.  I am often laughing so hard I have to sit down at my "designated area" (since we don't have enough people to man every post which only adds to the general confusion which is our game).  When I do this the kids scream, "MOM!  STAND UP!  ARE YOU OKAY?  WHY ARE YOU CRYING?  Wait.  ARE YOU LAUGHING?  MOM, ARE YOU LAUGHING AT US???"
4.  My kids really have trouble with the concept of ghost players.  Now, again:  Remember ghost runners???  This was a loved concept from my childhood and apparently this is not being taught in public education???  What the heck?  The first time I called, "Okay.  Ghost runner."  My kids looked at me like I was CRAZY TRAIN.
5.  Since my kids don't play organized sports (I am assuming this is the reason - couldn't be because they are just bossy and rude.) they have no concept of a team sport.  There is no huddling, strategizing, or passing the ball.  This often results in one player running to get the ball and then proceeding to chase the runner around the neighborhood.  This while all of my kids are screaming at whoever that they are playing wrong.  And as I said in #3 THIS results in me having to sit down and laugh.  Then my kids start screaming at me. 
6.  The mosquitoes are as big as cats where we live right now.  If you are wondering what this has to do with kick ball, don't worry it will be crystal clear in a second.  Last night during our game this happened several times:  We would all seem to be semi-understanding the play and the roller would roll/bounce (a seemingly simple concept none of them have quite mastered is:  rolling the ball) the ball to the kicker.  The kicker would then suddenly see a mosquito and begin to swat at it (none of us could, of course, see the mosquito).  This would result in everyone else beginning to laugh at that person (because they looked kinda like a CRAZY PERSON).  Then the person who was swatting at said mosquito would scream, "WHAT???  What are you laughing at?  I am trying to KILL A MOSQUITO."  Meanwhile someone would scream, "STRIKE 1."  To which the kicker would scream, "NO FAIR!  I WASN'T READY!  I WAS TRYING TO KILL A MOSQUITO."  Then #3.

My conclusion?  This is what I have so far: 

1.  P.E. is not even remotely close to the Gym I grew up with.
2.  I am slightly relieved, but wonder a little about what they are missing.
3.  This change in the nature of P.E. could be the root cause of bullying, teen pregnancy, and drop-outs.  KIDDING.....kind of.
4.  I maintain the utmost respect for P.E. teachers everywhere and I think possibly my kids' could be the reason they are not attempting to teach team sports in school.
5.  I might die soon of an injury sustained while teaching my kids all the crap skills they are not being taught in P.E.
6.  If I die, I will die laughing.

That's all.  If you are depressed, come over and play a game of kick ball with us and the mosquitoes tonight.  It promises to bring you out of your funk.