Yeah Norman, I Get Where You're At....

Norman Mailer
from Quotes of the Day


"There is no greater impotence in all the world like knowing you are right and that the wave of the world is wrong, yet the wave crashes upon you."

Is This a Sign????

OK, so Henry is a hard sleeper, and it is always a joke when he gets out of bed how whacked out his hair is...but this morning? well, this was special. We even got the camera out. But then when I down loaded them...



Check it out...

Just pull the binky out and Voila....Yeah, you see it don't you....That's what I'm talkin' about...Scary ain't it!?!

My Son's best Nick Nolte impersonation!

I think that we are going to have to shave his head if we expect his hair to behave in any sort of manor...at least then his mug shot will be nicer looking!

Bad Things Can Happen....

...When you just run outside to adjust the sprinkler in your garden. I came back in and was met at the door by Henry saying "I didn't do something bad"...

I have yet to figure out what it was...But earlier this morning he dumped an entire thing of fish food into the tank, So I am pretty sure that I have reason to be concerned... I guess I will keep looking!

ahhhh boys.

gotta love 'em

embarrassment

I was writing to a fellow blogger this morning, chatting about this and that. I told her that I am slow reader and that I didn't read when I was younger because I was always embarrassed by that. But now I am not. It got me thinking, isn't it funny what we are embarrassed of at various ages?


When I was in elementary school, I was embarrassed that I wasn't as old as my sister. (I am going to refrain from any age comments here Steph, that is Jamie's job and he would be mad if I took it from him! lol) I used to always try and act older, and be embarrassed when I couldn't do something that the bigger kids could.


When I got to be a tweeny bopper, I wasn't embarrassed enough about things I should have been... like going to Boston with my parents, and my BFF Jenny and yelling "HEY TONY" in Little Italy just to see how many guys would turn around and say "hey, how ya doin'..."


Or running up behind an unsuspecting, nice looking guy, and waving to Jenny with the camera, while she took a picture of the guy, who was unaware he was now a part of a photo with a 13 year old. Or even better, I had a HUGE (it was the 80's) pair of white sunglasses that I put Chiquita banana stickers all over and wore them...regularly...out in public.


I am pretty sure I was one of those pre-teens that people rolled their eyes at every time I came around...I had a jacked up sense of humor, (and a strange obsession with drawing pictures of Beaker) and my best friend Jenny's was just as bad...we probably should have been separated by a few states...but then, where's the fun in that??? (And, by the way, we are very happy to be close together again, so that we can continue our reign of all that is not right in New England!) While most tweens are embarrassed to be seen with their parents, mine were secretly thankful, because they were probably embarrassed to be seen with me!


Then came Teenager-hood. I was embarrassed about everything. The size of my butt, the size of my teeth, my voice, my hair, my car, my house, my intelligence level (which in my eyes, was never high enough,) my life in general. This is what would forever be known in my family, as the Black Years. This would be when I got that funky hair cut where you shave under all your hair so when you put it up, you have a pony tail with a shaved head...yeah I know, it was really attractive. But to make it even more beautiful, I put so much sun-in in it, that it was platinum blond on top. I wore all black...and more black...with a few black accessories...and combat boots...even with skirts...and listened to The Butt Hole Surfers, and the Dead Kennedys, and The Smiths, and The Cure, and some random local band called the Amature Gynecologists...and thought I was DEEP. Yeah I know....I was one of those!


Then I went to college and don't remember being too embarrassed about much...but then, I am not going to go there too much, my parents still think I went to the library every night! LOL


When I got into my 30's, and as I head toward the down hill slope of them, I am less embarrassed again. I tend to have a more, well, hostile attitude toward people who think I should be embarrassed.


"YEAH I DO have cellulite AND I am wearing a bathing suit, IN PUBLIC, I had three kids...and YES I am wearing a big floppy hat because I have skin issues, and YES, I am fully aware that I am singing "Wheels on the Bus" even though my kids aren't with me...it was stuck in my head... WANNA FIGHT ABOUT IT?"


I was telling Justine in an email, that I just don't get embarrassed anymore. I think I finally broke when I was playing dress up with one of my girls, and she insisted that I wear my tiara when we went to the store, and I didn't care to fight, and I cared to attack the battle of her wearing her cow costume even less...so there we were walking through Hannaford, a weary princess mom, and a 2 year old cow. Yup, thanks to Caroline, my middle child, I believe I was broken to embarrassment. And I have to say?


Hallelujah! Free at last.

Some Days Its The Small Things

Some days it is the small things in life that are the best. Some days it is the menial little things like:
An 85 degree day in May, in Maine! WEEEHEEEW...

Or, getting all my veggies into the garden, and having hope that they won't die...

Like having eaten 2 whole meals today with out a whole lot of recourse! (I know, enough with the digestive issues in public...sorry, but I have to tell you, it really is something after the past 4 days!)

Like not being asked, not even once, to ride the foe wheelow...

Like not once, not even once, having to clean poop out of underwear! (I know way too much information there, but you know what folks? That IS my reality!)

Like being a total TV-aholic lately, which tends to happen when I am sick because that is all I do... sit comatose on the couch and flip channels and watch ridiculous things like, re-runs of Melrose Place, and become totally embarrassed that I used to love that show... It really was bad. I mean really bad. I didn't realize at the time how mind numbingly bad the acting was... or maybe I am just getting snotty...but I doubt it since I still love shoddy acting that I can laugh at. OK, I just rambled really bad and my mothers vein in her head is pounding...the point...what was the point?...OH YEAH... The Unit is back on tonight.

I know that this seems like a really strange thing, but I LOVE the Unit. I love the All State Man. I loved him in 24, I love him in The Unit, and gosh darn it...I DO feel safe in ALL States Hands (as long as they send him as the adjuster) There is something about him that I find so...well, I don't know, like he is a protector or something...with his big old bad self and deep voice. SO that is what I am going to do tonight. I am going to be a useless ball of flesh, and curl up and watch The Unit and waste the earths oxygen.

This of course is after I finish watching the 3rd show, of the first season, of Six Feet Under. I clearly am one of the only people that hasn't seen that show, but..well, it is good and I am already addicted. Between this and the fact that our library just got Twin Peaks...I think I may never get off my couch again.

My kids will learn to make dinner, and fend for themselves because Mommy has locked her self in the basement with the DVD player. I don't believe that this is a healthy thing...somebody stop me...but only after this commercial...

Like I said, sometimes it is the little things that just make you smile.

The Black Plague

The Black Plague has finally left my house. I don't mean my in-laws...it is just coincidence that it started shortly after they got here and left when they did! (They are just going to have to trust that I am kidding there) But we have had the stomach flu go rampant through our house this week.

There was a time when I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the floors, ridding them of the refuse my 2 year old's rampage on my bedroom left, (feeling like I was going to die myself,) and I thought, this could so easily turn into that scene from the Ya Ya Sisterhood where the mother, taking care of her sick kids, goes a little wacko and runs away to some hotel for a week.

Yes, there was a point where that became a real possibility...But then I remembered gas prices, and thought to myself..."damn the oil companies! They have condemned us to a life of having to stay with our families in the bad times, because we can't afford to just take off!"

But alas, the rugs are cleaned, the house is sufficiently Lysol coated, and I have actually eaten my first meal since Friday. (And so far, it is still in my body...)So, I think that, (knock knock on wood,) we are going to get through this!

SO there you go, no posts since Wednesday, because of various exorcist moments in the house...but we are back on track, and hey...we may even go to the beach today after we pay proper homage to Memorial Day at a parade of remembrance.

Good day to all...

I SAID GOOD DAY!

The New Bane of my Existence

OK so I am not meaning my son, while he can be challenging, I have been instructed to deal with, and love him, until death do us part and I am fully prepared to do that. However, he has a new obsession that has made him, well...less than adorable.

His grandfather, who, I personally think was more excited to give this gift than Henry was to get it, gave my son a ride on four wheeler thing. He chose this instead of the John Deere, because my girls could ride on it also, and it fits two kids....and frankly, my children are so monstrously huge that Henry barely fits in the John Deere gator. So now we have the four wheeler...or the thing that I have to threaten lives over, recharge batteries to, break up fights about, and hide under a tarp from, my children!

When I used to kiss my son goodnight, he would smile at me and say "Nigh Nigh"...when he would wake up in the morning he would toddle into my room, pry open my eyelids and say, "you wakey?" Sadly, now,...my son goes to bed screaming "FOE WHEELOW," and wakes up, runs to the window to see if he can see it, when he can't (because it is masterfully hidden under a tarp) proceeds to run into my room, gets as close as humanly possible to my ear drum, and yell "MAMMA, I NEEEED TO RIDE MY FOE WHEELOW." Folks, this is a less than enjoyable way to be woken up. Only second to one of the kids with the stomach flu at 3 in the morning.

My every day is now based on when, and where that machine will be taken out...I tirelessly explain when and where that machine will be taken out. It was bad, until, last night. I realized that the four wheeler should be used for good...I can now use this machine to get things done, like naps, pooping on the potty, picking up toys, weeding the garden, mowing the lawn, doing the laundry...OK so not the last three, but the first three are a real possibility...

So ride on little man, love that machine, because now?...Now, I can hold it over your head like any other desperate mother trying to control her 2 year old would! OOWAAHAHHA

(For those of you wondering, that would be an evil laugh, not an acronym for: Only One With An Atrocious Henry And His Hellacious Attitude)

A Side Note: It was a very generous and well loved gift by the way. I would hate for anyone to think I was not aware of what an awesome gift that was!

Serenity Now! Serenity Now!

There are those days when life seems a little more than you can handle. You know, little things like, oh I don't know, your checks get sent to you with the wrong account number on them so you bounce checks and don't know it. Then your kids come home mortified because they were denied hot lunch since one of the bounced checks was to the cafeteria...another great mom moment for the books.

Then your Check card gets compromised at Hannaford, and you have 500$ worth of charges in Florida... No I am not kidding! Things like a cranky 2 year old that seems to think it is OK to cut his own hair. A schedule so packed that you don't even go to the bathroom because you haven't scheduled that in, and there aren't any colors left to put it on your color coded calendar anyway. And your girls thinking that it is OK to belittle, hit, and in general, be asses to each other. (Secretly you know it is to drive you crazy and into a mental institution, so that they can have run of the house, and be independent at 10 and 6 after they petition the court to divorce their clearly insane parents.)

But then today I went to the beach I sat down and ate my lunch...and even though the seagulls seemed to find my lunch very interesting, I found a little solace. Although, I started to feel like I was on the set of Birds, as they flocked around my head. I had to say a silent prayer to the poop Gods, hoping that they would not choose to aim their refuse at either my head or my Panini.

In between these little hopeful prayers and the sound of angry seagulls at the audacity of me not sharing, I found some serenity. I realize that I live in one of the prettiest places on earth, and I am very lucky to be able to just "run to the beach for lunch," and be by myself (mostly) to be calmed by the crashing of the ocean waves.

So now, I no longer want to hitch a ride to Florida, hunt down the jerks who have made my last week hellacious, and kick them squarely in the face...I am feeling more serene...I am just letting Karma take care of it, and may all the gas they have charged on my card be full of sugar. OR even better, I could be a good person and say, I hope that the gas that they charged on my card was in desperation, and they really needed it, and it has made the difference between life and death.

Yeah, I know, it was kind of a Stuart Smalley moment...and "I am nice, I am kind, and Gosh Darn it, people like me..." (and my check card)

side bar

I would like to note that I came home tonight and re-read my post from this morning...uh...I really shouldn't post when I am that tired...I didn't even understand the first two paragraphs...and the bad part? I re-read them about 10 times, and clearly this morning they made sense... I hadn't even had my morning wine!

(I am only kidding, I seriously haven't had wine ever in the morning....)

Anyway, I would just like to say that I will refrain from my semi coherent posts in the future!

Things That Make Me Thankful For My Insomnia

After two nights of insomnia, a condition I suffer with fair regularity, I am seething and jealous at the sight of peaceful sleeping beings. I have an itching desire to walk up quietly beside them and then lift their eyelids up with one hand and start poking them with the other and repeatedly whisper "Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom, Mom," until they punch me in the face.

My insomnia is not every night, but rather it hits at various times, and when it does, it results in some strange behaviors, like searching for long lost high school classmates online, pretend booking vacations to foreign places, googling names to see what comes up, or shooting off random emails about virtually nothing to people at 3 in the morning.

Jamie doesn't like me googling his name because apparently his name has some pretty rank Karma that goes along with it. There are about 3 separate people with the same name that are on death row or are lifers in high security facilities...and then he gets all sensitive when I look at him a little funny when he starts chopping those veggies with a little too much might! But since I don't want him to leave me with the three kids, I don't do tease him about it anymore...yeah I am nice that way.

My favorite though, is when I email my parents with my ramblings that seem coherent, and I get an email back from my dad lecturing me on getting sleep and asking why am I awake at this hour? Um...did he not notice himself sitting upright at a computer at the same hour? Because, I know that this is the man who can sleep in the stands at a Nascar Race without earphones on*, and I am pretty sure he sleeps too hard for sleep typing...and perhaps I have inherited this affliction of insomnia from him.


Anyway, I went up stairs to finish folding my laundry and found my cats sleeping soundly...and for the first time, I was kinda... OK with not being the one sleeping...

OK so let me clarify WHY this was not an "AWWWWWW they are so cute" moment.

There is brotherly love, and there is brotherly love....This is neither, this is just ....eewwwwww.
Needless to say there will be no nose rubbing going on in this house with him in the near future!

* This actually is NOT an exaggeration. My husband and his friends used to go to the Richmond race when we were still living in VA, and we took my dad who is a big fan. He slept through the middle 400 hours of the race, sitting up right with his chin in his hand, and all the ZZZZZZOOOOOOOMing going on...No effect at all on his sleeping! There are times that I am amazed at what a freak he is! (and I mean that in the most loving way)

Kicking Some Butt, and Not Even Taking Attendance

Gotta try this. Yes, it is so wrong...I am just ashamed of myself...can't you tell? I could take on 23, 5 year old's, mostly because I was willing to throw them at each other... As I said on the Fuse, I would love to see this done with 2 year old's! Now that would be truly scary! (COME ON, You gotta laugh sometimes)

(thanks to Fuse #8)

It Stinks When Your Butt Falls in the Floor

So yesterday I had my 2 year old niece for the day. Let me tell you that she and Henry have got to have the funniest conversations ever. while they mostly comprise of the very adult banter: "you are wrong," "no, you are wrong," "no, you are wrong," which they seem to be able to continue on and on and on, until any normal person would be trying to find the nearest brick wall to bang their head into, they seem to think that this is the ultimate in conversational skills.

So we are driving Margo back to her house after they had been together for the day, and Margo says "Pie, tell me a story." Being the best aunt in the whole world...(and if you didn't know I held that title, I do, and I have the diapers in my trashcan to prove it!) I say "What do you want a story about?"

Margo: "Tell me a story about Butts"

Yes, your reaction may be about the same as mine, and while I was trying not to snort or choke on my own spit from laughing, Henry just smiled. Secretly on the inside, he was glad that he wasn't the only one in the family who liked fudgey biscuits.)

I had to ask, because there was a chance that perhaps I just misunderstood. "About what?"
Margo: "About butts."
Me: "About butts?"
Margo: "Yes"

OK, so about now, I am wondering what kind of fairy tale I can come up with ....a butt in a tower? no, that would not work. A poisoned butt who has been asleep for a few years? No that isn't believable (unless you have tried to sit through an entire 4th grade softball game on the bleachers...in which case that would be the most believable situation ever.) When my thoughts are interrupted...

Margo: "It is bad if your butt falls off"
OK, so at this point, I am not able to keep a straight face, or re-direct the conversation.
ME: "Have you seen a butt fall off?"
Margo: "It is bad if your butt falls off onto the floor"

Giggling, my daughter and I don't really respond, however Henry who has been listening intently to the entire biscuit conversation, gets a panicked look on his face....
"OH NO, MY BUTT JUST FELL OFF"

The next few minutes were spent convincing Henry that his butt was still in tact. Margo sat smiling in her seat. I am not sure whether she was thinking..."My work here is done." or "Now this is a really good story about butts!"

Never the less, Henry's nether regions are still in tact, Margo is back home with her parents, and all is well in the 2 year old kingdom...

blogging nightmares

OK, so I didn't blog yesterday, and while I am pretty sure that world continued to turn, (because I still had to peel my creased face off the pillow this morning,) it gave me nightmares. What up with that?

I had a nightmare that I came down in the morning to a bunch of comments and one was from a snippy guy who told me he really wished I would learn how to capitalize my letters...another that told me I needed to learn how to spell and gave me a list of words that I was going to be tested on, on Friday...It doesn't make a lot of sense, since I am far from being a national phenomenon. Obnoxious phenomenon to my friends that are forced to read this blog, but other than that, lets just say I am not making any news.

But these dreams woke me up twice, and now I am having flash backs to my high school freshman year. This would be the freshman year when I hadn't, we will just say, found my academic prowess yet. I spent the majority of those first few months plotting how I was going to spit in Mrs Gephart's mail box with out getting caught, when I was visiting my best friend Jenny. Who, I know reads this, and is currently sitting at her computer laughing and reminiscing of my braced faced bad self, and our super stealthy spit missions.

So I will blog today and I will do my best to use the right buttons on my computer...but really? I don't know why the stress, I am not sure that there is anyone who really gives a crap anyway...well, other than my mom, but we have already gone there, and I think that I have spiked her coffee with enough Valium that she is starting to mellow on my inability to remember the difference between loose and lose...and if not? She is in Alaska on a cruise so who cares!

Lots to blog on, but will have to split it all up for a few reasons. I know that while you are sitting with your coffee, and you are dying to know about the conversation that ended with "No ones butt is falling off, lets just end it with that." and the inability of our town to have a functional school board that doesn't need a time out and an intervention, there is only so much coffee in your cup, and time that you are willing to waste on my ramblings. Don't you love my ability to be sensitive?

My New Jewels

OK so this morning I woke up, a lot less surly and irritated with the world, and feeling a little regretful that I was so...um...well un-thankful yesterday. I will not apologize for saying that I really don't like mothers day...I still don't. But when I came down stairs and my daughters brimming with excitement had forgotten to give me things they had made for me...well I softened a little.

So I put on my new beaded necklace and my new shell pin, and went to the grocery store with my son in his bug boots, and we got some nice looks! A few nods from other moms with various feather accessories, or lovely winter scarves with I love You Mom in puffy paint on them. But you know what? I do love my kids, and I love the fact that they made something for me because in between my rants, and seemingly impossible to predict temperament, they must think I am not half bad.


Then I ran across this picture of Sarah Jessica Parker...HMMMMMM....wonder if her kids LOVED her too on mothers day! LOL

( Picture from People)

What Can I Say?

From Bookshelves of Doom today...I had to borrow it!

Is it wrong to not like mothers day?

I have a small confession. I don't particularly, like mothers day. I know that this seems contradictory since, you know, I am a mother, and it seems to me that it should be a good day to relish in the guilt of others to get them to do nice things for me. Like the dishes, and the cooking etc... But somehow, it doesn't really ever work out that way.

Here's the thing. Have you ever noticed that Father's day, all the commercials are about going golfing for the day with other dads, or going fishing by himself, or having time to do what they want to do around the house with out being bothered. Each add shows a dad, or a couple dads together, in the throws of some adventure, game, or house hold project that they have been dying to get to...(unless they have a son, in that case the son is allowed to be the caddy, if they shut up and only speak when spoken to)

However,

All the ads for mothers day are these big brunches with extended family, all the kids in tow. And a lovely Valium induced, comatose mother, sitting at the table in uncomfortable fluffy girl clothes, with a distant smile, after having fixed brunch for the entire extended family, donning the lovely paper mache pin of a giraffe (she thinks) on her dress...

Which leads me to:

If mother's day is a celebration of mother's and giving them a nice day and a break... GIVE THEM THE DAY OFF!

On top of that, I think that the more kids you have at home, like, in your house, and the younger they are, the more of a break you should get.... I am not saying that we shouldn't pay hommage to the older moms, and grandmoms,* but you know what? They aren't the ones with snot stains on their pants, and peanutbutter handprints on their shirts, walking around with little kids hanging off their clothing like extra appendages, and trying to use their "nice voice" to the screaming, whining children because it's mothers day, and mother's should have on happy voices on mothers day.

Yes I am an irritable, surly, cynic...and I loved my starfish pin with sequins...I really did. But secretly under all the smiling, girl clothes, and fruit salad, I was thinking..."I wish the house was cleaned yesterday when I was at work, and Jamie took the kids to the park today and let me have the entire day to myself at the house to work in my garden, read, nap and just be luxuriously alone."

Yes perhaps this is selfish, but you know what? Mom's rarely get to be selfish. Always putting others needs in front of their own, day in and day out.** So as a treat, maybe a selfish day would be lovely.

This is not to say that spending the day with the family, my sisters family and my grandmother wasn't lovely...it was. And making the fruit salad wasn't bad, and I did get to get some work on the garden in...But when I woke up this morning and witnessed the disaster area tape that was strung around my house after a weekend of mommy working and "taking a day" for mothers day, it is going to take me the whole week to catch back up! SOOO crabby me says, Happy freaking day after mothers day, and dagonit, I am going to have fun doing the laundry and cleaning the toilet!


*Before you start flinging nasty comments my way, I do realize that I am absolutely blessed with the fact that women in my family have longevity, and I have both grandmothers, my mom and a mother-in-law. I certainly am not saying that I would want it any other way, and I recognize the blessing...and yes I do understand that there is a special kind of "bad place" for people like me when I die, and yes I am pretty sure I am going there.

**I also would like to say that I recognize that not all moms are like this...there are plenty that leave a lot to be desired...but I am not talking about them...I am talking about ME...ME ME ME ME ME....you know the unselfish kind!

Our New Addition!

My grandmother got this for Henry to play with in VA...and now it has become one of our ridiculous favorites...especially when Henry is sitting on the floor listening to it and at the end says "spicy" in a very non two year old voice... yes, I am waiting for him to say that at a completely inappropriate moment, like when the very pleasant elderly woman is bent over picking something up in front of us at the grocery...and I am fully prepared to have defend myself from a pocketbook smack. Mean you say? Not really, I have seen my grandmothers 14 ton purse and the way she carries it, AND heard her say she knew how to use it to defend herself...so just back off!

Allergic Reactions

I seem to have this problem. I have moved to the black fly capital of the world...in fact, I am fairly sure that the mosquito and the black fly are currently in litigation with the chickadee about who is better suited to be the state bird of Maine. I grew up in NH so it isn't like I haven't had my problems with black flies my whole life...however...

As I have gotten older, and clearly my body is starting to deteriorate while I am still being housed in it, I have developed a rather unsightly allergic reaction to black fly bites. They bite me and the next two hours the bite swells to the size of my thigh....well not that big, perhaps my calf, but still? it is freaking big!

So watching the torturous softball game of my eldest last night I got bitten right on my pinkie finger. Now, normally I would just kind of get irritated and know that I am up for a distressing few days with my hand...but now I am pretty sure that there is some sort of conspiracy among a black fly terrorist group that seems to have waged war against my hands. This is the third...yes THIRD year in a row, that I have been bitten on the same place, on the same finger...IN A ROW I tell ya!!!

And tonight I am going to an opening of an Italian restaurant that my husband was the engineer for...nice...I hope no one asks me to pass something to them. They might never eat again after my baseball glove hand with its bright red, hot exterior, skin stretched to the point of stretch marks or splitting, passes them the salt. I can picture the whispers now...

Maybe I will take a bite of my food and throw myself on the floor holding my hand.
"My Hand, My Hand...does this food have oregano in it? AGHHHGGGGGHHHH" and pass out.

I don't' think that the pink slip in my husbands box would be that funny though. Maybe I will just decorate it and pretend it is a glove like Michael Jackson wore....HEY, I am a product of the 80's.

I suppose that it could always be worse...I could have gotten bitten on my already prominent nose!

Proof that spring has sprung

I am quite thrilled to add these pictures from my front flower bed... from the last few weeks...it is proof, at least for now, that spring may have sprung...FINALLY, in Maine!

Knock on Wood (I am currently bashing myself in the head)

Toddlah's

My Son who already has issues with his talking...as you may have heard in his rendition of "All About John Deere" which is much more like John DEEEAW. Is adding to his repertoire of talking.

A lovely conversation today:

"Am I a Toddlah?"

"No, Henry, you are a ToddlER"

"A Toddlah?"

"No Henry, a ToddlER, ER, with an ER, ToddlER" (veins starting to pop in my head)

"Yeah, that's what I said, a Toddlah"

Me, under my breath saying a BIG OLE "Thanks" to Stephanie's Book Collection for this new absolute favorite of Henry's.

When he tells me that "Marther, plays the Tuber in the pahkin laat with her Teachah" (Martha Plays the Tuba in the parking lot with her Teacher) We are going to have a smack down...

DO YAH HEAH ME CHICKY? A SMAAK DOWN, YAH HEAH ME???

The Miracle of John Deere

In order to placate the kids and preserve our sanity we got a DVD player for our many 15 hour treks down south. I know, I know, I read when I had to do it my whole child life, and Crikey, I am better for it. But you know? we don't have a CB to entertain us...That is a whole other story.

Before we left, I borrowed a movie from the library about John Deere tractors for Henry. Somehow I was pretty sure that High School Musical wasn't going to do it for him. So when the girls were willing to live with out "Getcha Head in the Game," they reluctantly relinquished the DVD player. By reluctantly I mean after threat of bodily harm, and enough screaming from Henry to tire even the most determined child. So Henry would watch his John Deere movie, over and over and over again.


It actually got to be like 2 year old boy Valium...when he was getting rung up or acting up, we, as the good parents we are, would set him in my parents bed and put on John Deere. I was becoming quite attached to this little silver disk drug, so it was quite traumatic to have to return it to the library, for both of us. I did manage to pry it out of his peanut butter stained, jelly sticky hands and throw it quickly in the book drop, and peel out of the parking lot before he could go in after it.


There was a very catchy little tune during the movie "John Deere, builds a better plow, John Deere makes America Proud, John Deere, Its all about John Deere" (I did try to find this on line, but couldn't seem to find the tune to link.) I have decided that whom ever is on their new advertising team, they are geniuses and clearly need a raise. Because this is what I walked into the other day in my Den almost 2 weeks later. (Yes, the quality is horrific, but you can hear what I am talking about....)



The way he says "DEEEAAW" as though he is Wodney Wat, it does warm my heart. It also may possibly explain why at 30, he will be inextricably drawn toward things that are bright green and yellow, and why he cannot, for the life of him, purchase a red machine! Genius I tell you, Genius! I need to come up with a catchy tune about hiring Agriculture Educators in Maine...maybe my phone will start ringing!

being lazy

You may think that I am being lazy, but on the contrary. I am just relaying information to you that you may not have read otherwise...so I am not lazy, I am informative. (that is how I prefer to think of it, so lets just go with it)

I was tired today, and I mean bone tired. The kind of tired in which, you go to bed at 8:30 and wake up at 7 and still feel like you aren't sure you can manage to take the necessary breath it takes to sit up in bed and get out. Which isn't something I talk about, or complain about a whole lot, but there are some days, that I just don't know if I can do it anymore. No real names for it yet (or at least not ones that everyone agrees to,) so I just chalk it up to some strange unidentified illness that is eating away at my insides and brain...which probably explains a lot huh?

So I got up this morning, Monday, which is my least favorite day of the week anyway. I hate Monday for many reasons, not the least of which being, that over the weekend, the other people that reside in this house with me, find it entertaining to see how much crap they can leave in the floors, and see how much of it will be picked up when they come home on Monday night. It is like a sadistic game show who can make mom break fastest.

I was in no mood to write anything nice, or even seemingly sweet about any of the members of this house hold. I was catching up on a blog that I read called Dooce....I read her letter to her daughter. Suddenly I felt like the Grinch when his socks loosen up and his heart grows three sizes. So here is your informative post.

Her letter, made me realize that I am not the only mentally unstable mother in the world, and at some point, my sincere inability to articulate why I can falling apart and hold it all together, in the same breath, will be realized, and used for good!

Laughing at her description of her daughter as a teenager, I do not only picture my eldest in that role soon, but remember myself being in that role. At some point, you do grow out of it, and you do realize that your parents, flawed at best, still love you, and do the best they can with the information they have at the time they need it. With that said...I will go off and try to make it through today with out falling apart, or damaging my children anymore than I already have.

I knew there was a reason I loved her!

Everywhere I go I'm asked if I think the university stifles writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them. There's many a best-seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher. - Flannery O'Connor

Now Leila can add this to her rants about James Patterson

My Rainbow Calendar

Like a true teacher, I have a little tic about keeping a schedule. In college I was forever getting those "organize yourself" sheets of paper, that they handed out at the Student Union to help organize your calendar. You know the ones, each day has the hours blocked off so that I could very easily schedule in when my classes were going to be, and where I intended on being during them...I could even schedule in showers, parties, and when to call my dad to tell him I was studying at the library...and I did (schedule those things, not study at the library...at least not my freshman year...honestly though, I did after that...) NOT that I ever stuck to the thing, but I always felt this real sense of security and accomplishment when I filled in all the little blocks with something meaningful.

So to this day I still have my little calendar with blocks of time, but now it is on my computer. And I tell you, the day it crashes is the day I will be found wandering around town aimlessly, with a far away look and disheveled appearance, not knowing where my kids are, or where I am supposed to be...this does concern me...but I have yet to back it up.

Anyway, I sat down last night and filled in my schedule, now color coded. (Can you see why the library loves me???) Red for Henry's things, Orange for Jamie's things, Dark Blue for my stuff, Teal for Gran's appointments and so on and so on...

I sighed as I entered the last thing, and hit return, to view the whole month...the rainbow of colors started blinking at me and blinded me with their intensity. I fainted dead away, and hand trembling asked for another glass of wine.


Now, I want to preface this next paragraph with, I am considered a "mean" mom. I actually have been told this, because I only let my kids do 1 sport at a time, and they aren't allowed to do anything else during that time. But clearly being a 9 year old athlete, is a much more serious commitment than it used to be. I mean...when I was 9 I played baseball, with boys, and we had one practice a week, one game on Saturday, and, well? I think I may have picked more dandelions than caught baseballs...and I was considered one of the athletic kids!

Now they have 3 games a week, on WEEK NIGHTS, that doesn't include a practice, which clearly they are going to need if they are going to become the next Ortiz...because, I have been informed that this is the American dream. To run your kids ragged, and make them something, so that you can relax in your older years, and they will buy houses for you, and plastic surgery and such. Playing for fun? Yeah, they did that when they were 3, and in "little league," this is the serious stuff.

I think I may have missed something...like an entire generation of crazy people... It is a whole new ball game now! (no pun intended!)

I am pretty sure I see how parental fights are breaking out all over America...parents have sports rage...kind of like road rage, but it comes from having to observe too many kids games, and practices, an unhealthy competitve atmosphere for an extended period of time, and depriving themselves of family dinners and swapping it for the quick takeout because that is all anyone has time for...I would get a little punchy too!

Folks, I may just be put under by a rainbow this month. I am not sure how I am supposed to be in 4 places at one time, but apparently, I am going to have to learn. All the other parents seem to be catching on...I guess I am just old fashioned.

They don't tell you when you decide to have more than one kid, that when they all get to be school age, (and I only have 2 thus far that are, and one well on his way) that you will become a slave to a rainbow calendar. Doomed to drive all over town, dropping your kids off around the corner, so that other kids don't know that you really are their mom, picking them up, baking brownies, making banners, and trying to maintain sanity all at the same time! And by the way, what ever happened to Car pooling??? I remember getting rides places...people don't do that anymore???

Well now with the raging rainbow on my computer and another glass of wine in me, I may have to march down to DC and have a little sit down with Dubya, 'cause, this gal ain't gonna make it if the gas prices stay where they are!

Hmmmm makes me wonder, what ever happened to walking to boy scouts, barefoot, in the snow, up hill, both ways? I am not feeling so horrified now, in fact? I am feeling a little...sports rage...watch out for me guys, I may just come in swinging to the next softball game...but then I might ruin my chances of the American Dream.

Uh-oh....I am starting to sound like my mom!

shameless sucking up

OK, so I am sure that I am going to go down as the biggest suck up in the world, but hey, we all can use our brownie points right??

My father in law works for Farm Bureau and is now a Star of the You-tube world with his ABC's of Virginia Agriculture...check him out....




Isn't he cute???? (He may hurt me physically for that...but he kinda is...)

And hey, here is just a little plug for the people I used to work for at the Virginia Farm Bureau Agriculture in the Classroom...they work really hard, and daggonit, they rock. So, support your local farmers guys...I won't get on my soapbox today, because I am tired...but I am sure I will at some point...it is my passion!

not sure about this one

Ok, so we signed our middle child up for Karate lessons...all the right intentions here. She lacks self confidence, and we really felt this would help, as well as build responsibility, and control...which clearly her angry hand needed. And I think that her class will be OK...you know if they don't piss her off or anything.

So everything was going fairly well. Caroline was introduced, and I was able to watch her do her push ups and hip rolls and kicks etc... (can you tell I never took Karate?...I know, real shocker.)

All of the sudden they start doing choke holds and breaking free of them...so I am thinking, I guess that is OK...I mean maybe that is part of what you learn right? I was a little skeptical since this is the 6-9 year old class...and was thinking... OK, who is going to put her in the choke hold other than me? (again, no CDS, that was sarcasm) But I could go a long with all this, kind of. You know, so the next time a bully at school tried to choke her, she will know how to duck her head and roll out of it. cool.

Henry, being his non-napped self was kind of being, well, a handful. So I am watching and listening to class in between coloring pictures of Curious George, convincing him to get his arm out of the drink machine and to stop trying to rob it, and coercing him out of the bathroom after the 17th hand wash. When I hear from away, "If they have a knife and are coming at you...."

WHAT?????

I mean, in what situation is my 6 year old going to be in that warrants her getting in a knife fight? I hear that kids are rougher than they used to be, but I am pretty sure that elementary lunch room cutlery doesn't even include Knives. The bad end of a milk straw maybe, but a knife?

My husband thinks I am over reacting...me???? I mean that like, never happens.... But I am still wondering if we have found the correct place. My husband swears that he talked to Sensei about what the programs focus was etc... and my husband told me it was all about self control and confidence. Now I am wondering if having waited so long for a SON, my husband has finally lost his patience and is trying to create an Ultimate Fighter out of my girl.... OR maybe he just sees that Caroline is the only one that is tough enough...somehow...I am worried.

I hope that this turns out to be a good choice, otherwise, I could be posting from a hospital bed in traction after and unfortunate altercation over bedtimes. we shall see!