Huh?!?

This morning was like any other morning. The birds were singing. My three meticulously groomed children were waltzing through the house bantering over who loved the other the most. Shoes were tied, lunches were packed, and we were sitting down to a well-rounded breakfast.

Then I woke up.

It was a morning of the usual bustle. Crying, fighting, gnashing of teeth. And the kids were not any better. I was trying to remember to not burn the toast while packing lunches and shouting orders, sniffing breathes and armpits. The kids were up to their routine of mass-silliness. I don't understand it, but every morning from 6-6:50 my kids decide they can't be without each other, and spend countless amounts of precious minutes rolling on the floor like puppies. I digress.

This morning Parker was talking NONSTOP about important topics which I do not remember because I had my auto-pilot "uh-huhs" and "ya thinks." Suddenly the conversation shifts from Patrick (of Spongebob fame) not having a nose to this:

Parker: "Mom, I think I am ready to be crucified."

Me: ..................... "Huh? Well, what makes you think so?"

I just want to add that I did not give an "uh-huh." It was a gold-star, checked in kinda moment.

Parker: "Well, I mean, I love Jesus, and I know he loves me and died to save me, so I guess it is time for me to be crucified."

Me: "OH!!! OH, you mean BAPTIZED!"

Parker: "Yeah, you know when you go under water."

Now, I would like to say that at that moment a thousand things were going through my mind. Like how funny he and his vocabulary are. How proud of him I am and how prayers that have been prayed since before he was born are being answered.

And how I wished I hadn't corrected him. Because can you imagine the preachers face when he went to the front of the church for invitation this Sunday to ask to be crucified?

Deepest, Darkest

I am uninspired, but am gonna continue in my effort to blog daily (or at my track record: more than monthly.) Tonight I thought I would share 3 strange, weird, disturbing secrets about myself. Here goes:

1. I read the backs of books. Not like the back cover to see if it is readable. I read a few chapters, get really involved, then have to flip to the back to see who lives/loves/did it. I am not proud. It is a huge shout-out to my OCD, instant gratification needing, control freakishness. But I do it, and I like it. So far this is the only thing I do not love about my Kindle...it is extremely difficult to skim the last chapters. Still working this out.

2. I watch trash t.v. I love reality shows like Jerseylicious, Teen Mom, Downsized, and the Bachelor. I appreciate that Parker is old enough to be more interested in history and science shows than cartoons (finally) so we spend many evenings in front of Pawn Stars, Decoded, American Pickers, and Meteorite Men. I am less thankful that recently one of my besties turned me onto Hoarders. In fact I am still haunted by images of rats. Oh, the rats!

Despite my t.v. watching habits, I am a bit of a snob in that I feel better about myself because I don't watch any Housewives, Jersey Shore, or Maury. Not that I judge you for it....I just don't understand.

3. I have a super hard time paying full price for anything (groceries not included.) I am a bargain shopper, and feel like anything I purchase has to be at a significant discount. Because of this I often start shopping for Christmas in January, even though I never finish until December 23rd. I am our family designated hotel booker because I scour for the best deals. Don't even get me started about Black Friday. Let's just say there is a spreadsheet and tote bag full of carefully arranged ads. It's kinda my superbowl.

We all have our quirks. As I read over mine, they don't seem that strange. Because they are mine. What are yours?

Back in My College Days...

I was broke. I lived in a teeny tiny apartment on campus with three other girls, and we were all college poor. My workstudy position paid $230 per month, my part of the rent was $190. And we had a little luxury called electricity. My car was paid for, but gas for the Geo wasn't free. And this was all before we had to buy groceries.

But we were resourceful. My suite-mate and I lived on cereal and ramen. Some months we could even indulge in milk for our Captain Crunch. We figured out how to make a dollar jar of spaghetti sauce last a week. We would each buy a jar (she liked alfredo and I am a marinara girl,) and we would cook a fistful of noodles a day to eat with a few spoonfuls of sauce. This was living. I could go on for hours about our college savings plan....Split orders of fries from the truckstop for dinner, stolen toilet paper from the Garrison (gasp!), and a great friend who fed us weekly from the restraunt he managed. Cooked dinners every now and again were the trade. Because, cooked noodles and sauce is very marketable.

After college ( I call these the student loan reality years,) I was STILL poor. My roommate and I had moved up in the world, and thought we were living large because our ramen upgraded to hamburger helper. That's right. Meat. We were ballin'.

We ate the helper so often, and about 2 years out I swore it off. Done.

Fastforward 10 years. My culinary skills have grown in leaps and bounds. I even manage to cook real meals for my family once or twice a week. Meats, vegetables, soups...real food made from real ingredients.

This is my big setup for what transpired last night...

Brad: "Do you know how to cook Hamburger Helper?"

Me: "Um...yes? But I don't really know if that counts as cooking..."

Brad: "I love Hamburger Helper! Why don't we ever have it?"

Me: "Because I really cook. Like, food. Why would you want that?"

Brad: "Let's have Hamburger Helper tomorrow night! The cheesy kind with........."

I tuned out. I don't get it. I have learned to speak his languages. There is hunting, fishing, the basketball and football talk, random bits of redneckedness that he has amassed. But this was my limit.

I don't think I can speak ground beef soaked in processed cheese powder.

Guess what was for dinner tonight? Guess who decided to just eat bread and salad.

3827

3287...not the number of diapers I changed. I don't know that number for certain, but I would put it at closer to the millions. Diapers in the middle of the night, diapers that I had to rob your penny bank to buy, diapers that were fetched from Walmart with you wrapped in three dishtowels while I prayed that you didn't pee on me, diapers in public restrooms. Diapers that exploded, diapers that made me want to explode. Diapers, there were aplenty.

3287...not the number of tears I've cried. There have been dry spells. There have been floods and monsoons. Times of tears wane like phases of the moon, and I have seen plenty. Some have been mine. Tears cried over boo-boos are hard. Tears over hurt feelings and broken hearts break my momma heart. There might even be tears simmering now. And I know there will be tears in the future.

3287...not the numbers of sqeezing hugs or stolen kisses. Not the number of bedtime stories read, movies we've snuggled through, video games I have lost, or conversations had. Almost the number of times you have snuck into my room after bedtime for one last kiss or to try to sneak into my bed. Not even close to the number of smiles and giggles we have shared.

3287....not the number of days I have loved you. From the very minute I know you were to be, you rocked my world. This thing called motherhood has been a wild ride, and you were the first car on the coaster. I was clueless, but so were you. We have figured out so much together, you and me.

3287...the number of days I have worried over you, loved you, been so proud of you I could hardly stand it, been so frustrated I couldn't stand it. 3287 is how many days I have been in wonder of you, how many days that I feel so blessed and special to be your mom.


Happy 9th birthday, Parker! I love you to the moon and back (and I love that you know exactly how far that is and how long it would take us to get there!) :)

Cooties

Boys have cooties. They just do. We learned this quick fact in grade school, and would have been rendered useless except for the cure. Ya know...circle, circle, dot, dot. Yeah, you know.

I love being a mom of boys and being married to their overgrown-boy-man dad. Our house is constant wrestling, tackling, climbing. And breaking. Oh, the breaking. We break furniture. We break toys. Once Kaden even broke the top of Parker's head with a baseball trophy. There is never a dull (read: quiet) moment. And really, I like it. Really. I like the soccer, and the football, and the baseball, and the dirt. Not so fond of all of the equipment and additional laundry, but as a great philosopher once said, "You take the good, you take the bad, you take them both and there you have..."

The fall is especially boy-y around here. The boys are all full of being outside, sports are in full swing, and there is that other little thing. What was it? Oh, yeah...hunting.

As a teacher, my new year cycles from August to August. I know there is a holiday after Christmas that tells me to start writing different numbers on the top of my checks, but really it all starts with the school supplies. The issue is that Brad runs his year beginning in October. He starts in April saying, "Ya know, it is only a few months til opening weekend." Yes, honey. But more months left than those since you last hunted. But carry on.

So from here until mid-December I am flying solo. I don't mind. Brad is a get-out-and-go kinda guy, and I loves the books in my p.j.s. But along with blissfully uneventful weekends, come the wife of deerslayer duties. Not for the faint of heart....go ahead and stop reading now. Bye.

Yesterday Brad was hunting behind the house, trying to get the pet that has been eating under our oak tree all summer long. Because, ya know, someone is going to shoot the pet, so it might as well be him. Whatev.

Dark-ish I get a call to come help load the deer. Me. So off I go with 3 kids in tow. We get back in the pasture to see this hugemongous buck that I am supposed to help hoist. hmmmm. We get to heaving and hoing, and feel this long slimy streak down my leg.

Because I am loading the head. And a dead deer sticks his bloody tongue out. And it licked me.

Don't say I didn't warn you...you were supposed to stop!

I start screaming like a girl, hands in the air, doing the deer-lick dance around the field. Parker is gagging and threatening to throw up, and Kaden is crying, afraid the deer is going to lick him. All in all, we were a hot-mess of mass chaos.

And that is something no Operation Cootie Shot can clear up.

I don't really know what I'm doing. Obviously.

I haven't blogged in a long while. Like forty-eleven weeks. So in effort to get my blog back on, I have pondered many meaningful posts. If you have dusted the spiderwebs off the linky to my site, then here you have it...my thoughts on the meaning of life, solutions for world peace, and predictions of the rapture. Or, you might get this...









That's right. That is virtual me. You are welcome.

I have been sitting for two days in a technology emmersion workshop, and my brain is fried. But there is this one little thing....16 hours spent on twitter, facebook, blogging, and creating avatars has equaled uninterrupted time to clear my google reader and jump feet first back in touch with my people.

Hello again, friend. I won't wait 10 months this time. Pinky swear.

One more time...just for fun. Or because I don't know how to get it to go away.

Given the choice, I'd take the seasick crocodile

^Dr. Seuss, "How the Grinch Stole Christmas"

I have always loved the Christmas season. I remember from a very young age sitting in the floor with my mom as she pulled out our treasures. There was the little manger scene with the tiny baby Jesus. My ornament from my first Christmas, with a tiny little baby and my birthday engraved. We have a Rudolph that has to be assembled every year, and has stood guard by the tree holding a variety of treasures: bows, pinecones, and one special year a puppy. I never got tired of laying on the floor under the tree and watching the lights twinkle. That was one place where magic could be seen.

Growing up in a small-town, country church I played every part in the Nativity. From a sheep to Mary holding my favorite baby doll, and Angel and caroler, I did the part. The songs of Christmas are my favorites, and the only thing I can still play on the piano after 6 long years of lessons (sorry, Mom.) Nothing feels more spiritual to me than a Christmas Eve candle-lit service with my family in our church home. I get goosebumps thinking about it.

I moved into my own first home the year Parker was a baby. I was a Martha Stewart wannabe (pre-prison) that kept Hobby Lobby in business. I collected village scenes, made snowflake curtains for all of my windows, had linens for the beds and throw pillows for the living room. Christmas music played around the clock. There was always (at least the smell of) cookies baking and cider warming. My home was especially home-y at the Christmas season.

Traditions became especially important for us to establish for our son. A schedule for when the decorations could go up and when they had to come down. We had rules for putting the star on the tree. Routines for opening an advent each day. Readings that were planned and purposeful. And my favorite, exchanging one special ornament on Christmas Eve, a way to forever document an important time or experience of the year past. These traditions were important to me. I wanted my children to grow up and know that when they came home, it would FEEL like Christmas. I wanted something to pass on to them in their homes so that there would always be a connection between how the season felt when they were growing up, and to have their fond memories etched so deeply they would recreate them for posterity.

Since then, my home has changed. My family has changed. God has blessed us in so many ways. and in all of these changes, I lost my Christmas spirit.

I have thrown myself into chairing our county Angel Tree project for the last 3 years. Because I have been so busy bringing Christmas to other children, I told myself my kids would learn about giving. We didn't have time for all of our to-do.

And my kids are little. I mean, I have all of those extra-special ornaments, why would I put them out for the kids to break?

And because we are hunting and camping and traveling through the time when I would normally take my stuff out. And because work is busy. And because I am in school. And because I have to finish laundry. And...

So last year I took Parker and Kaden to Wal-Mart and let them buy one of those pre-lit trees and pick their own ornaments. We didn't pull out our snow globe collection or our stockings. They were happy to decorate and proud of their creation.

Today I was at my Mom's house, and she pulled out a pink tree that she had bought for Maddie's room. I was putting it into the van and jokingly asked her if I could just put it up and call my Christmas decorating done. She didn't crack a smile and Parker informed me we could not have just a pink tree. I think it was then that maximum Bah-humbug guilt set in.

I am looking. I am desperate to find that will to put those special touches back into the holidays for my kids. We have been so diligent in talking about the season as the celebration of the birth of our Savior. I just haven't shown them the magic in celebration.

So I am going to get out my tree and special ornaments. And we will hang stockings and watch the snow fall on the manger. And we will cuddle on the floor with hot chocolate and watch the lights twinkle. Because that is what we do in my family. It is what I want my kids to remember. And it is what I know I will love again as soon as we do it and I see the sparkle in their eyes.

I am looking for my twinkle. Because I want to see them sparkle.

Doing As I'm Told...

So for two mornings this week my kids have gotten out of their beds with giggles in their voices, put on their clothes with much-appreciated little instruction, and beat me to the car. This is quite an accomplishment as I have been known to leave them at home for lack of all of the above.

This morning was extremely flawless. Before I realized it we had dropped Maddie off at the daycare, and were pulling up into the school parking lot. The empty school parking lot. Because we were there before the doors were unlocked.

With this extra time to kill, the boys and I headed for Sonic for 2 corndogs (a breakfast food?) and a large diet Coke with cherry. On the way we started talking about why we were afforded this priviledge on a random Thursday morning.

"Well, guys, when you do things that you are supposed to, then mornings go easier. Everyone is in a better mood, there are no tears, we get where we are supposed to be in time. And when all of those things come together, then we have time for better-than-normal treats. We get something special."

As I was I was spouting these words of wisdom, I started to think about how God must regard His children in these same ways. We know what we are to do. We are supposed to do it with kind hearts and words. But often we get in the ways of ourselves, making our paths harder and less enjoyable. And for what reason? Not because we feel better in the end. And not because the outcomes are better.

I don't understand why my kids make things harder on themselves. I don't know why they argue and hurt each other over things they really don't care about. I don't understand why I have to tell them the same things over and over again, just to be frustrated that they aren't listening or obeying. I'll never get why they would rebel intentionally to not receive a reward that is so freely given. I don't know why I haven't thought about seeing these things in me doesn't hurt and confuse my Father like it does me as a mother.

Not on the same page

Tonight I was in Walmart, by myself for about 30 minutes killing time while I waited on a friend. It occured to me that Walmart and I see the world through different eyes.
For instance:

*Changing a price from 12.97 to 12.00 does not equate "Clearance."

*A sign $14-Can't be beat. Now that just isn't true. Cuz it can be beat. $13. $12. $5. Those all beat ya, $14!

*Putting milk in the back of the store does NOT necessarily mean I will walk to that back corner to buy milk picking up impulse items along the way. Because if I have my kids and they are being like my kids are, we will LEAVE with no milk and eat our Cap'n Crunch out of ziplocs on the way to school. Don't push my buttons.

*Who's idea was it to put pet items in two seperate sections? Because if I need cedar shavings for classroom guinea pig, why should I look in the dog/cat section then have to cross the store to the second for smaller pets? Does PETA recognize the discrimination there?

*I would rather have no greeter than a grumpy greeter.

*Self-checkers are great if they don't keep telling you to place item in the bagging area. Because sometimes you are buying a get well card and it is in the bagging area.

So there. Officially time to kill became too much time on my hands.

To Flu or Not to Flu...

How am I gonna get to an answer if I don't understand the question?

So Maddie has had this icky fever + dry cough + achiness + vomiting. After consulting my medical degree and experience (Google) I decided that a day of sitting in the doctor's office is in order. Because Mondays are generally slow anyway.

We went to our favorite family doctor who is not in our town. We see the ones here for cuts, like trophies to the head, or shots. But when I feel some serious lab work is involved, over the river and through the woods we go.

Upon sight of Maddie walking into the office we were ushered to the back of the office. Like not a waiting room. Like my little girl had green polka dot skin with purple stripes. Because she did look that pitiful.

Of course the usual...flu test, x-rays, temp taking...yadayadayada. Then...

Doc: Okay. I want to show you something.
Me: ~hold my breath and stuttering, not easy to do at the same time.~
Doc: Here is the information and official release from the CDC and Arkansas Childrens Hospital about the H1N1 virus.
Me: ~still holding, wide-eyed~
Doc: Now, as a guideline they are not testing any children for flu this season. They are treating flu like symptoms as the flu because children under 3 are having false negatives on their flu tests. So if you went into a clinic at children's they would just say Maddie has the flu and treat her as such due to her age and the fact that she has EVERY.SINGLE.SYMPTOM.
Me: ~wanting my mommy~
Doc: So, you have a choice. You can take her results as negative that she doesn't have the flu. We can treat the symptoms as flu-like. Or, we can treat her as they would, assume she has the flu and act accordingly. It is really your decision.

Okay. I digress. My decision? That's why I come to you! I want you to tell me what to do so I can make her feel better. And I promise if it is antibiotics I will give them till they are gone. Really. I will not leave the bottle a 1/4 full in the fridge shelf until it develops into a super-medicine that could cure evil.

I asked if we could take the easy road, treating the symptoms for a few days, see if it got better, start the tamaflu if not. But NO_O. We are within that 72 critical hours for the medicine to have effect. Stupid virus with its timetable.

So I am home with my daughter and her flu/not flu virus. And we are quarantined. And there will be ice cream eating. And I might even let her have some of it.

Frugal

I am thinking that I am the master of saving money. I have plotted and schemed and budgeted. I will conquer.

Because we have fully discovered the realms of "Kids eat free" meals in our little town.

It all started with the Pizza Shack. It seemed such a good idea to take the kids there for food and fun on Wednesdays. Just a little nudge from the cheese and pepperoni fairy to get us through the rest of the week. We are regulars, as in we have our tables, the waitresses know our drink orders, the cooks throw in an extra thin crust cheese at our sight, and all of our friends know where to find us. It is like "Cheers" only with marinara instead of beer.

But there is this other thing about my kids being old enough to be involved in "stuff." Like the swim team, soccer team, boy scouts kinda stuff that keeps us out several nights a week. So my fellow swim mom/pizza shack friend in crime and I decided that in order to preserve one precious (laundry/dishes/homework) night of sanity we should change Pizza Shack Wednesday (PSW) to Pizza Hut Tuesdays. We are already across town, we are out and hungry. Makes perfect sense.

Except we did go eat at Pizza Hut on Tuesday. Then there was pressure from our regular PHW posse on Wednesday and I COULD NOT LET THEM DOWN. Then there is the Thursday arrangement with Fat Boys Barbeque.

Let me sum this up for you. I washed dishes this morning and all that entailed was cereal bowls and cups. Kinda sad.

But look at all the money I am saving by feeding my kids for free!

The Rains Came Down and the Decibels Went Up

And that's just how it happened. It rained today, and there I was stuck inside with my kiddos. My 20 kiddos all inside those four walls. And they want to run, and they want to yell. And believe me, I want them to do those things, too. Just not inside my room.

Now, before it sounds like I am whining about my class, let me tell ya....I have a terrific group of kids. They are smart, and they are funny. They make me laugh all day long. But quiet...they are not. In fact, I am chalking their energy and enthusiasm up to adding to their sweetness and intelligence.

So today was a long day. And I am tired. And to top it all off, I have these other 3 kids that want to come home with me every day. And they are loud. And unfortunately for them, I yell back at them.

I'm starting to think I need a good pair of earplugs. But then I would miss all of those funny, smart things that make my day so great. What's a girl to do?

Pray for sunshine. At least from 10:45-11:30.

There are no words....

I cannot even begin to tell you how overwhelmed with blessings I feel right now.

What do you say to a man who choses to be a dad? One that doesn't have to, but wants to anyway? One that takes all of the tough times that come with raising a son that has special needs and who resists him every step of the way? One that has raised a boy since an infant and wants so bad for him to be his son like he already feels he is? Thank you is not enough.

What do you say to two boys who are so full of wonder and questions? All of the why's and why not's and I don't understands? And the never agains..... Because they should not have to know the bitter sweet feelings that they do. Because they understand that they are so loved and wanted, but also understand loss.

It would be easy to say I felt alone four years ago. Just me and my boy and my big pregnant belly. But I never did. I knew that God would send me and those two boys the man that we needed. Because God is in the business of knowing that a little boy needs a man to help him grow. He did it for His Son, He would do it for mine. And He did. But watching that come to be, a man that loved me and my boys, who was not only willing but wanted to make a family with us, that is humbling. And to see him on that stand in front of the judge and our parents asking to be their father forever....well...there are no words.

So tonight I am just overwhelmed. And thankful.

So here they are! As Parker said, "More important than a birthday." Because they have a Father who loved them enough to give them a daddy.

My Fellow Americans....

So today, I want to ask you, what’s your contribution going to be? What problems are you going to solve? What discoveries will you make? What will a president who comes here in twenty or fifty or one hundred years say about what all of you did for this country?
Your families, your teachers, and I are doing everything we can to make sure you have the education you need to answer these questions. I’m working hard to fix up your classrooms and get you the books, equipment and computers you need to learn. But you’ve got to do your part too. So I expect you to get serious this year. I expect you to put your best effort into everything you do. I expect great things from each of you. So don’t let us down – don’t let your family or your country or yourself down. Make us all proud. I know you can do it.
Thank you, God bless you, and God bless America. _President Obama, September 8, 2009



So I haven't posted in awhile. Thanks, TB for not calling me out on it. But this hit me. And normally I would avoid this political thing like the plague. Not because I don't like politics-because I do. I wanted in the political ring until an unfortunate advising incident as a Freshman at HSU. But because it is uncomfortable for people with strong views. And strong views I got, of the blue-hued, which is not normally popular in my chosen profession. So I silently wave my right-wing flag in my closet as my peeps rally the red. I'm comfortable there in my nonconfrontational arena. But I digress.

Today our President spoke to our nation by reaching out to our future. He took the bull-headed by the horns, and told those kids that they are responsible. He promised that we (teachers, parents, and governments) are going to do our best to provide for them and their educations as they prepare for their futures. Then he told him that they have these tools available for them, but that the rest is on them.

And I gotta tell ya, I like it. I like that he "got real" with the kids about overcoming these issues that they face. He didn't sugarcoat anything or diminish the difficulties that they deal with every day. But he did say that you have to make the best of your opportunities DESPITE these things. I like that these kids are acknowledged for their trials, that he didn't tell them that they don't know tough times. Because they do. But he did tell them that they cannot crutch themselves on that excuse. That they have to learn to pick themselves up, dust their pants off, and get to the task at hand.

I was skeptical. I will REALLY be skeptical (negative) tomorrow when his whole healthcare speech goes down. But for today I agree and appreciate him taking the time to do what he has the opportunity like no other president before him....reaching out and sharing some hope for doing better.

Top Ten Reasons the First Day of School is like Childbirth

10. You really need heavy medication. Really.

9. Little bitty kids....big 'ol responsibilities.

8. Time seems to warp speed ahead and stop completely at the same time.

7. Paperwork. And piles of supplies.

6. Contraction-like, regular 5 minute tantrums.

5. Crying mommas. Sweating daddies.

4. The whole family shows up taking pictures.

3. Your body is physically and mentally exhausted, yet there is no sleep in sight.

2. Did I mention the medication?

1. Like childbirth and other traumatic events, you immediately suppress any memories of the day. Otherwise, could we really chose to go through this again?


****This post was co-authored by T.D., and per request of T.B. Love ya!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ode to Red

Oh, Red. How Parker has coveted your hue on his walls.
How he has longed to see your bright color brighten his every day.
He has asked for you. He has pleaded and bargained for you.

Maddie's sweet pink room. One 2-year old all alone in a fabulously tinted girly room.
Two bigger boys sharing one tiny room with (somewhat) white walls.
Guilt as a mother for putting off the boys decorating for the much funner, sweeter palatte.

Red paint. Bought as a surprise while the boys are away.
Finally I have reconciled myself to the compromise of one brilliant red wall in the sea of brown.
Parker will be so thrilled when he comes home from his reunion.

Paint mixer guy at Walmart. With your smug expression and less than helpful demeanor.
You mix paint, my red paint, with all of the excitement that would come as watching it dry.
"Here you go. Hope you like it." And I did like it. Just enough for one wall.

Overflowing plastic bags of painting supplies. Carried precariously into the bedroom.
Time to get started! Bags settled and organized. Husband reluctantly spectating.
Now to pour the paint.

Lid not tight. Flying red paint! Arching rainbow of red soaring across the room.
Red paint on toys. Red paint on mom. Red paint on carpet.
Red on dad's usually calm face.

Toys moved outside to dry. Woolite on carpet. Mom in shower. Clothes in trash.
Finally paint on the wall. The fabulous red paint that is now less appealing.
Until it is finished. Beautiful. Decorating tips of 7-year old a hit!

Except for the 1x2 blob of red paint on the tan carpet.
Which will be cleverly disguised by a bed. Or a rug.Or toys, which will be yelled and fussed over. "Clean them up!" Alas, the floor will never be clean.

A Good Mom...

So....here's my guilt list (for today.)

A good mom.....cooks real dinner every night.
I....have the "kids eat free" schedule of every restaurant in our vicinity down, and we are involved in their schemes way too much.

A good mom.....has all of the laundry neatly folded, organized, and put away.
I....have clean clothes. And they are either folded on my bedroom floor or shoved into the kids overflowing drawers. Let's not even talk about ironing. I don't know where mine is.

A good mom.....has super fun activities and crafts planned out for her kids to keep them happy, busy, and engaged in meaningful activities.
I....let my kids play their DS. and the Wii.

A good mom.....takes her kids to the park and catches them at the bottom of the slide, pushes them on the swings, and digs in the sand.
I....take a book. I give them a dumptruck and a shovel and tell them to play.

A good mom.....covers her kids in sunscreen, even on overcast days, because we all know how easily they can burn.
I...well....Maddie is a little pink.

A good mom....never raises her voice at her kids, and for heavens sakes would NOT spank a child.
I.....do.

A good mom....sets a good example for her kids, keeping her cool and remaining calm even when the lady at McDonalds is rude and messes the order up.
I....might have made an ugly face or even fussed a little bit.

A good mom....sits by the side of the pool while the oldest has his swim team practice.
I....needed to run to Wal-mart.

A good mom.....knows that arguing between parents is best done behind closed doors.
I.....was loud right in the middle of the kitchen.

A good mom.....loves her kids more than anything else in the world.
I.....do.

My Kaden-bug

Tonight I got in from Conway at 10:45. I came into a quiet, dark house, and was ready to sit down and feel all pitiful about the hours I am spending in this summer class and to decompress all of the pressure of a HUGE upcoming assignment.

I turned around and this is what I saw:

Isn't that the cutest thing that goes bump in the night? He is my little night owl, and I love when we get this special time-just me and him.

So Kaden is my guest author tonight....

Mommy: What is your favorite thing to do?

Kaden: Um. play. my playing is that I like to play with Spiderman and a ninja turtle.

Mommy:What do you like to eat?

Kaden: um. Pizza. I like to eat chicken. That's silly, ain't it, mom?

Mommy: Tell me about your family.

Kaden: Momma. She works so hard. Daddy-I like to play with him. Parker-he likes to play with me. And Maddie. She likes to play with me and eat pizza with me.

Kaden: Is there anything I can say to you?

Mommy:Sure!

Kaden: What kinda animal is a giraffe? And what's a squirrel?

Mommy: How old are you?

Kaden: three. There's gonna be a cake on my birthday.

Mommy: What kind of cake?

Kaden: Spiderman. Stop! I need the balloons. And it has Spiderman on it. Maddie would like Tinkerbell instead of Spiderman. Or I would like Spongebob cake. Okay?

Mommy: What kind of present do you want?

Kaden: A game. A Dora game. It's easy.

Kaden: Can I push the story?

Mommy: Sure. Here you go...push a few....

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Mommy: Kaden, why are you so sweet?

Kaden: Because I like you.

Mommy: I think you're special

Kaden: God made me that way. Duh!

And off he goes!

What a sweet boy. He has been special in so many ways, and he always brings a smile to my face. I have enjoyed every single minute of being his mommy, and I can't believe he will be turning four in a few days.

Where have I been all my life?

So I haven't posted in about 5o years. Not because I haven't wanted to or haven't had much to say. Mostly because we have been super busy, and because I have been procrastinating. And painting. So I have possible lost all my readers and this will go out to the blogosphere known as posterity. That's okay, because after a few (gulp) months, my first post is going to be about reality shows. Because I'm deep like that.

I promised myself that after last season of The Bachelor I would NEVER EVER EVER watch that show again. I hated how he broke her heart right on tv only to go on and get with the girl she shoulda chosen anyways. I don't even care who I was rootin' for (Melissa) I thought it was a shame that ABC exploited feelings that way. It was dirty and I was done.

Until The Bachelorette. And, y'all, I didn't even care for her on The Bachelor after her silly hot dog test. But due to lack of quality summer programming, here me and bff TiVo go for another round. And it has not disappointed.....

The guys with the foot fetish....CREEPY!!! Why in the world would you keep around a man who gets all googly-eyed over your feet?!? He can't even hold a conversation with her without drooling. And I have been concerned that they would make it to the fantasy suite date, and there they would be...her, creepy foot guy, and Dr. Scholl's all behind locked doors. Yuk.

And by the way...she lost one of the top guys last week due to his boss being unsympathetice to his search for love. On national T.V. While the business was crumbling around him. Times are tough, buddy. In this economy, can we afford to lose a quality employee because we can't do without him while he searches for his one true love on a game show? He must not understand the word "recession."

The next great guy she let go tonight because he is "too perfect." I hate it when a man is too great! I see her point...what if they got married and he didn't put his underwear in the floor? Or if he cooked and cleaned up dinner? "You sleep, darling, I'll get up with the baby in the middle of the night because I know are exhausted and I appreciate you." Not on my watch, buddy!

Now she is left with Wes, whom I loved from the first episode because of his down home southern boy charm. It gets us everytime, doesn't it? He whipped out that gee-tar and sang her a song. And I swooned with her. Too bad since then he is outright telling everyone but Jillian that he is in it to win it....and by it I mean a recording contract. Not her. So I guess my whole point here is why can't someone tell her. To me, if the idea is to show that the show could produce true love, then let her in on his dirty little secret. Is there not a cool Paulette-from-Legally-Blonde inspired hairdresser on the set that can give her a sideways glance and a dirty shake of the head? Oh, but to be that stylist!!!

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On a sadder note, I am heart-broken by what I saw on Jon and Kate tonight. I have watched them from the beginning when they were interesting because they were young and poor and struggling. I gritted my teeth when she started getting a little bossy and diva-ish, and was feeling more and more distant from them as they moved on to WAY greener grasses on the other side of a perfectly landscaped and manicured security fence.

What has happened in their marriage is awful. I watched tonight with more sympathy for Kate than someone outside of a situation like that could understand. I felt her pain as she talked about her kids not becoming a number. I understood how she feels like her life is taking a course that she didn't chose and she is being forced along for a ride. My heart broke for her hurt at the anger she is receiving and the inability to make it better or know her full role in it. And that she wants so badly for her children to be okay through it all.

Divorce is such an ugly word, one that I hate to use or have attached to me. No matter how long it has been or how happy and unbelievably blessed I am right now, I will always feel like the word implies I failed. Or I didn't try hard enough. It is something that I deal with every day, and something that I try so hard to protect my children from.

I am happy that she knows there will be better days. Because there will. There are.


In closing...

So...if you don't comment and tell me who your favorite bachelor is, then I will know that I have been abandoned. And it may be another forever before I post again.....

And if you don't have a favorite bachelor...I don't know where you've been!

Pretty hilarious in that not-so-funny kinda way

So today we had a pep rally at school for our big testing that will happen over the next couple of days. It was fun (even if the wind was whippin' AND we were facing the wrong way sitting uphill-not easy.) Highlights include moms with pompoms, a friend dressed as a 5'2 koala bear (and her little bear friend whom I was sure was gonna bolt for it any minute,) and a rousing cheer from the pre-k classes..."Do your best (clap) on the test (clap.) And please don't think I'm kidding when I say that we spent an intriguing 10 minutes figuring out how many claps to include. Better yet...that totally never happened. I'm kidding.

My favorite part of the program was our speaker, a local university president (who has the sweetest family, one of which I will forevermore claim as my own child...sorry...you can't have her back.) During his speech he encouraged our students to do their best (clap...on the test...clap) because that is key to going to college. And if you want to be any number of things, pro sports player, doctor, lawyer, cheerleader (insert loudest applause here???,) or a teacher, then you will have to finish college.

Here's the punchline....wait for it...wait for it....

"A person who has a college education, on average, will earn ONE MILLION DOLLARS more than a person who only has a high school diploma."

I am anxiously awaiting my check.

Because according to my (terrible, four time flunking algebra) math, I will have to work 24 years to earn a million. And that's just counting MY million, not minus what I would have been making had I started a trade. And especially not if it is a million more than the boatload of money my hairdresser makes. Add all that up, and I would have to work an estimated FOREVER before that all added up just right.

And you know people don't go into education for the money. There are totally intristic rewards that I benefit from every day. Touching young lives, making a difference. Yada, yada, yada. But seriously...millions?

FYI...When I asked about my pending fortune, I was informed that according to data, the average for someone with a master's degree (which I will hold come December) is 1.6 million. I am already spending it.

As a consolation, I get to have the summer off (weeeelllll, kinda, after all of those workshops and prep for the next year,) and there is that little thing called spring break. Plus, all of those handy shopping days at Thanksgiving and Christmas-you know the ones where I spend my fortune.

BTW...Our fabulous teachers have worked tirelessly prepping the kids for the big tests. They have trained the kids on how to be their best that morning....lots of sleep, big breakfast, etc. Parker told me this morning that he needs a breakfast with real food. Not a honeybun or Little Debbie. He wants bacon. I swear, sometimes you wonder where they get all of these extravagent ideas.

Cooking. In the morning. What's next, brushing teeth?