November 20, 2010

Aliens versus Do-It-Yo'self Home Building

Holy Moly....yep...don't adjust your's actually know, Malin...."Mom the Bomb," as it were....I wish I could tell you some spectacular lie about where I've been, such as helping Pelosi downsize her office abode (tee-hee) or jetting back and forth to D.C. to explain to those top government officials how public education SHOULD work (seriously ya'll, do we really need to hop on every "research-based" bandwagon that putt-putts by our children, who, by the way, are so bleary-eyed from practicing their high-stakes test takin' skills they look like they've pulled a couple of all-nighters at the nearest Chuck E. Cheese?)
But no, my life has been fantabulously busy with more, shall we say, less enticing situations?

Take for example, the three (count 'em: THREE) cases of pink eye my boy-who-needs-a-bubble brought home from preschool...and the one R-A-G-I-N-G case he gave to both eyes...for real, ya'll. I've also missed roughly 1.2 days per week since my last post to other germy attacks, a'la preschool-style, mainly in the form of exorcist-worthy vomit-fests (via previously mentioned two-year-old), snot faucets running full blast (again, via the precious, precocious T-Man, who fearlessless battles any and E-V-E-R-Y germ that crosses his path...*sigh*) in addition to the unsundry and evil exploits my underactive thyroid keeps throwing my way (we have yet to get my meds right...but we're getting closer...unfortunately my doctor says he's not sure if he can do anything about the ailment my husband refers to as "witchy with a 'b'." I personally have a remedy for that, but have enough sense to know it is not for public consumption as of this're really thinkin' about that one, aren't 'cha? *GRIN*).

In addition to our health woes, we've been building a house...and I swear it's from scratch. Kingdaddy and I decided we'd be frugal and practical and forgo any "lock-and-key" situation (you know, the simplest, least stressful mode of know, the one where you say, "This is what we go make it happen," and then roughly 3-8 months later your new house appears on its designated lot with your contractor  handing you your keys and everyone's all smiley and stuff). No, no, no....we weren't gonna have that, not in this economy, my goodness! No, we decided with all our expertise and stuff, we'd "help" the builders along as much as possible.
 My husband, seriously, is slowly morphing into Bob Vila, constantly talking about mortar, sheetrock, and other constructionable words. I have spent HOURS perusing the web for the perfect windows to install, the pros and cons of hardwood flooring versus a manmade imitation, and listening to Kingdaddy wax on about drilling holes into the porch floor (apparently it takes a few kazillion to get a porch floor just right...bless his heart, he's GOT to be tired of handlin' that drill).

Why just this morning our entire family, T-Man included, cleaned up the house from all the excess sheetrock that the installers didn't use. ****Excuse me for a moment....I had to laugh at that last line....I love how I made it sound as though we simply waltzed into the house, summoned the pieces to float out the door, and then load themselves on the bobcat (our very own tiny bulldozer - seriously, ya'll) and the dumper truck (my father-in-law's).*** Okay, the moment of amusement is over...onto the details: Chore Fairy Jr. and I got there first while Kingdaddy and T-Man secured the use of the dumper truck from Dear Old Daddy Freeman. She and I moved the 2.65 tons of sheet rock into the front room (what will eventually look like a living room) and it went really well...and really fast! By the time we had that done, the men showed up and we all loaded our tiny dozer (through the back door...of the house...not the dozer) of all the sheets, chunks, blocks, etc., from the back rooms. So far, all of that wasn't too bad. But then we had to move all the front room stuff out through my GEEORGEOUS (yes, I know it's not spelled right....I'm emphasizing each syl---a---bbllle for dramatic flair...come on, keep up) front door, down the porch, and off the end into the dumper truck. I kid you not, it took TWO truckloads to get rid of all that stuff! We could've easily sheetrocked SEVERAL handfuls of tents in third world countries with all that we threw out. Kingdaddy didn't think much of it, but I'm convinced we bought way too much of that stuff.

Once that was done, Chore Fairy Jr. and I spent an hour or so sweeping and scooping up the smaller debris, which sort of looked like gravel and sand. After we'd done almost all of the rooms, the men returned from their hauling off venture, and Kingdaddy commented that while our sweeping and cleaning looked good, perhaps it would be best if we just "leave it" because the dirty, sandy mixture is just  going to be covered up by more sheet rock mud, sand, etc., and the mess that's already there might just help prevent all that wet mud that's gonna be done this week from sticking too badly to the floor, making future cleanups easier. Well thank you for that opinion, however questionable the logic may's good to know things like that....BEFORE the fact, not AFTER. Hhmmph.

After such a glamorous morning, I'm sure you're dying to know about what I did this afternoon, right? Well girls, it only gets better from here! After getting T-Man to take a nap (which, by the way, are absolutely WASTED on the young and energetic), and a few elephant-sized loads of laundry, I drove halfway to the nearest town, down a gravel driveway that looked suspiciously like a gravel road one might follow to a lonely country church...or a whiskey still, to look at the walls of a man I've never met before. Yep. Let me tell you, this homebuilding stuff is just one big adventure after another. Now, I know what you're thinkin'..."Why did she drive all that way to look at some stranger's walls?" and that's a very good question (one I actually asked myself a few times), but really it all makes sense when you know that he had orange peel walls.


What's the matter?

OH!!! I forgot I wasn't talking about homebuilding with my dear Kingdaddy, LOL. "Orange peel walls" are one example of adding texture to your walls that sheet rockers can create. It's supposed to add texture, while having the super-nifty bonus of hiding any and all imperfections left behind by the natural sheet rocking process. Basically, they're bumpy walls, which as it turns out, look pretty cool. Honestly, I only went to appease Kingdaddy...he kept insisting I go look at this man's walls, so I figured how much trouble could it be, right? Well, don't tell Kingdaddy this, but I am glad I went, because I decided, after the man jumped my SUV's dead battery off (which is yet another story), I decdied that I would "stomp" the ceilings as LIGHTLY as possible (because apparently it's all but impossible to get a smooth ceiling without any imperfections GLARING at you and otherwise aggravating you in your day-to-day life) in every room and then do orange peel walls in the kitchen, dining room, living room, and hallway, with smooth walls in every other room of the house. Now, aren't you glad you asked? :)

Yep, I'm a regular homebuilding diva. That's me.

Oh, but don't worry, the aliens at school are still alive and kicking....HARD. While I love my kids, I have to say that this is the shall I put this.....hhhmmmm.....this is the most......"challenging" (picture me here   FRANTICALLY doing air quotes) group of young students I've ever encountered. *Ahem.* The principal and I have worked together on some strategies to help get these "challenging" scholars to be less..."challenging" and even he told me he was worried that my hair would soon start to fall out if something wasn't done soon. I told him not to worry...I'm far too focused on my eczema (which the doctor told me was triggered by stress) to worry about hair at this point. Seriously ya'll, my only choices at this point are to laugh or cry...and I've been known to do both simultaneously. Need meds much?

Let's just say this: prayers are needed, prayer warriors MUST be put into FULL TIME ACTIVE DUTY, and praise the Lord, pass the potatoes, we're almost halfway through the school year. I don't want to give you the wrong impression, because there are many wonderful things that can be said about this group - there are certainly some shining stars that stand out in terms of behavior, personality, and smarts - it's just that overall, this group actively "feeds off" each other, creating chaos in ways only these little aliens could create...which usually results in roughly 1.3 visits to the principal's office per week. *Sigh.*'s certainly never boring! :)

So, now ya' know what's been going on with me. I hate that I had to take such an extensive hiatus, especially with it being unannounced and unplanned. I almost certainly have lost my stalker status with Sofia, which I truly hate. Perhaps I can woo her back with some sweet, VERY heartfelt apologies?? One can only hope....if you haven't seen her blog, you absolutely MUST....she's TOTALLY dependable and awesome, unlike yours truly, at least this year anyway. Dependable, I mean. I'm still totally awesome, just not in a way that you can expect to hang your hat on regularly, at least this year anyway. But you should TOTALLY check her out:  from PDX with Love

Now! Shoo! Go comment on her blog...tell her how FABULOUS she is...and be SURE to tell her that I sent you, so that maybe....just maybe, she'll agree to allow me to stalk her again. ;)

September 1, 2010

Holy Cow Ya'll - A New Post!

Well whatda-you know, I'm actually posting on a WEDNESDAY as originally scheduled/planned/guestimated to do roughly a month ago!! Woo-hoo! FINALLY, right? 

I know.

Bad girl. 

Bad, bad girl am I. 

It's not like I couldn't post because I was at a huge unveiling of my blog being spotlighted on that fabulous blog, the punk rock mom (you really, really, REALLY should check it out). Too bad I left my camera at home and wasn't able to take pictures of all the glittering celebrities that stopped by our after party. 

Okay, I made that last part up, but you REALLY should check out the punk rock mom's blog - she's totally rockin' and awesome and I'm so full of blog-love for her because she asked a question I could answer ('cause I'm smart like that) and thanks to her, I've now had my very own first "spotlight" done on my blog. So, that answers THAT "why" question (in case you missed it, here it is: Why was MomtheBomb's blog, bless your heart ya'll, in the spotlight on the punk rock mom's blog? 'Cause I somehow psychically knew she was going to be visiting Mt. St. Helens ya'll, that's why. Did I mention I sometimes have psychotic psychic episodes? Yeah, it's totally true. 

Okay, so I'm not sometimes psychotic psychic, but wouldn't it be fun if I were? I could totally head off any problems like rabid groundhogs or those Gawd-awful attacking flying cockroaches (seriously, they really do attack...they aren't simply blindly flying and happen to land on me like KingDaddy says they do, they ATTACK me ya'll). 

Well, that's enough about all that. Know what I want to talk about? My new online BFF/stalker buddy, Sofia over at from PDX with Love. Ya'll, she is SOOOOOOOOO KEWL, so that answers the question, "Uh, why  are you stalking this poor woman?" 'Cause she's KEWL ya'll! You should stalk her too - you won't regret it! (You can thank me later when your server crashes from all the traffic I'm sending your way Sofia! *wink, wink). 

I guess I need to get on with my "Why's" for the week. Well, for the past two weeks. *ahem*

**** Why can't my aliens behave when I need them to behave the most? Why must they be perfect little angels when there is a sub taking care of them and little hellions not-so-darlin' darlin's when they're with me? Could this be another part of their plot to take over the world one teacher at a time by pushing my sanity over the edge, thereby leaving my brain an empty vessel, a clean slate if you will, for them to fill with whatever 8 year old aliens might want to focus on at any particular moment? 

**** Why does my son INSIST on W-H-I-N-I-N-G for his sippy cup of sweet tea when he could just as easily say, "Tea, Mamma?" And yes, I proudly serve my young'un sweet tea - slap me silly and call me Scarlett, but this is the South ya'll, and we Southerners LOVE our sweet tea. You can just put down that phone you're holdin' 'cause calling Children's Services on us ain't gonna do any good - unless there's alcohol in that sweet tea (and no way hozay would I do that - I may take a nip myself, but none for the babes, my friend). 

**** Why do Huggies diapers have those little Box Tops labels to cut out on their regular daytime diapers, but not on the uber-expensive night-time diapers? What gives "Huggies? Why aren't they on both?

**** Why did my father-in-law buy a brand new truck with every bell and whistle known to man ya'll, including the SYNC thingy, a USB port, heated seats, and pedals and seats that SET THEMSELVES when you put the key in (no lie ya'll) when he can barely operate a standard cell phone (a plain jane one without all the TV, the bluetooth, the camera, the Internet browser, etc.)?

**** Why does my family insist on ignoring me (for the most part) EXCEPT when I'm on the phone? What's up with that? It's like some sort of weird radar that goes off, "Oooh!! She's on the phone!! She's on the PHONE!!! Let's go talk/whine/cry/scream to/near/at her!!"

****Oh, wait, another "why" related to the one above: Why does my entire family steer clear of me (for the most part) except when I'm in our mouse-hole-sized kitchen trying to fix dinner? I mean, even the dog gets in on the act, standing RIGHT UNDER MY FEET AT EVERY TURN. Poor dog - he's so old that he can barely, BARELY see and he's as deaf as a doorknob, or bedpost, or whatever that saying is. He's deaf, end of story, so hollering at him doesn't do any good...which leads to my next question...

**** Why do I holler at my dog, either to get out of the way or to "come here Sweetie," when I know full-well that poor thing can't hear a rabid groundhog attacking his sister dogs, Sissy and Lu-Lu (no lie ya'll, we think a really mean groundhog got into a fight with the girls, but that's another story for another day)?

Well, I really should be getting to bed. I've been MIA on Facebook, Twitter, and of course, here. Just struggling with a few personal issues ya'll - nothin' I can't handle, but you know how it is...sometimes life just swallows you right up and it takes you a moment or two (or a week or two) to get your bearings back in order. Just do me a favor and include me in your little prayers or yoga mantras or whatever it is that floats your boat...and I'll be back soon with more incredible musings and ideas. Okay. Whatever. I'll be back to chat soon. ;) 

Ta-Ta for Now! Big Smooch to ya'll! 

August 21, 2010

Aliens Are Short and Cute - and Sometimes Nerve-Wracking

I think I know why Wednesdays always seem to find me too exhausted to post. I believe I've found the answer that has stumped us all  me these past few weeks. 


Yup. Aliens.

Remember back awhile when I said that I felt like aliens my third graders were sucking the life out of me? Well, y'all, what if they ARE???? I think I may be on the verge of discovering all those government secrets of Area 51 or 53 or whatever - you know, Roswell, where the aliens crashed way back in the 1900's? I think those little aliens DID crash there, then took over the minds of several folks, who then reproduced, but then the government figured out what was going on and they were all like, "We've got to do something about this," but then the scientist folks were all, "No, wait, we should USE these things to our advantage and study them," so the government started this program and here we are decades later, and my third graders are aliens. How 'bout that, y'all! Isn't that something? I know some of you doubters out there will need proof, and boy do I have it...just look:

*Even after all these years, they still do not completely understand our language. I mean, look at what I go through day after day when trying to communicate with them:

                                       ~ When I tell them to sit down, many of them continue to walk around the room as though I never said a word!

                                      ~ When I tell them to walk quietly down the hall in a line, they will often form small groups or "clumps" and chit chat in normal tone voices until I freak out and "SHHHHHUSH" them in my loudest shush. And then we repeat the whole pattern again a few moments later.

                                    ~ When I distinctly say, and then write the page number of the book we're opening up for our lesson, 95% of them ask repeatedly, "What page?"

                                    ~ Every day the morning routines and board work are posted on the dry erase board. #1 is ALWAYS "Turn in your folder and put away your backpack." Inevitably 1-2 students will NOT turn in their folders and there's always 2 or 3 backpacks on the floor or near the desks instead of where they belong!

                                   ~ They can be given an assignment to read a certain passage. That passage might contain the words, "Matter is anything that takes up space and has mass," for example. They may, for example, have a question that asks, "What is matter?" They will tell you the answer is NOT on that page and that they've read it two or three times. What the heck?!

*Their eyes apparently have functions that have less to do with actual vision than ours do. Here's more evidence:

                                 ~ Even my own children have this problem: THEY        DON'T       SEE        MESSES. They just don't. It's like their brains "erase" any sort of messiness that we see. I can tell a student to clean up the mess around and on her desk and she'll claim it is clean, despite the huge pile of paper clippings, broken erasers, crayon stubs with no paper on them, shredded crayon paper (hmmm, wonder how THAT got there?), pencils, and a few unidentifiable (OMG - could it be alien paraphernalia??) odds and ends that surround and completely cover her desk.

                                ~ A student can swear he doesn't have a particular book in his desk and swear I must've never given him one (true, stranger things have happened), leaving me to scramble to find a spare one to give him so we can continue on with our lesson.....only to realize that the very book he's looking for is sitting RIGHT ON HIS DESK.......................OUT IN PLAIN SIGHT..............NOT COVERED UP BY ANYTHING............EASILY SPOTTED BY ADULT NON-ALIENS.

*They hate to wear foot coverings of any kind...even in the bathroom where GOD ONLY KNOWS WHAT THEY MIGHT BE STEPPING IN/ON IN THERE. 

True story - I've had to punish several of my aliens students for this infraction. See, they take their shoes off when we're walking the track after lunch and as we come in the building, we pass the bathrooms, so obviously, being a whiz at time management (NOT), I have them stop by to use the restroom on our way back to the room. The only problem is that several of them "forget" to put their shoes back on before going into the germ-crawling, pee-covered floors of the restroom. Ugh. Feeling a little sick just thinking about it.......breathe......breathe......breathe.....

*They believe their pencils MUST be sharp enough to perform surgery with EVERY time they use them.

This one makes me nervous. Could it be they are stockpiling weapons in order to take over the school and then the world? A sharp pencil can be deadly you know.

Okay, I made that last part up, but sharp pencils DO hurt when you get poked with one. I would know. I've had my share of run-ins with razor-sharp pencils over the years.

*Bathrooms are a place of ritualistic behaviors, including (but not limited to: roughhousing, jumping, running, SCREAMING, GIGGLING, slamming doors, splashing water, and other general areas of play). 

Yes, I know. I DO NOT teach kindergarten. I DO NOT teach toddlers or preschoolers. I teach aliens third graders. And this is what third graders do in the bathroom. Again, more evidence, I believe, of alien behavior. Perhaps this is their way to communicate with the Mother Ship? They create a ruckus in one bathroom, where I go to investigate & SHHUUUUSHSHSHSHSH them, while the aliens in the other bathroom make contact. That way they can't get caught in their communications, since they know I don't have the ability to be in two places at once. Speaking of which, I wonder if they can do that and if they can, would they teach me?

*Last but not least, my final bit of evidence that third graders are aliens: They plan to slowly take over my mind after I've completely lost it. I doubt I have to give you any other reasons as to why I might lose my mind, but I'll indulge you once more: they plan to make me go insane by talking to me all at one time. And boy do they do it, too. At any given moment during the day, I may have 5 aliens students surrounding me (literally IN MY PERSONAL SPACE), talking all at once as though I am listening only to them, while another one continuously taps me on the shoulder while saying my name over and over and over again, while yet another 3-7 simply call out my name over all the others. 

I rest my case. I am surrounded by aliens that are trying to make me crazy crazier by using odd tactics and practices that regularly blow my mind. 

That's okay. I'm not scared. 

You can't scare me. 
I'm a teacher.

Rules were made to be broken - another late WHY post

Okay. Here we are. Um, my dog ate my blog post before I could hit "save." I think. Or it could've been that whole alien abduction thing that happened to me...not sure which. You go ahead and choose the excuse you like and that'll be the one we'll go with. K? K.

Here are my "whys" for this week, albeit a tad late.

What? Was I just supposed to reach down my dog's throat and pull out the cyberbytes he was so happily devouring with his cute puppyish face (or hop off the alien examination table in the middle of my rather uncomfortable session of poking and prodding, depending on which excuse you went with earlier)? Well, okay then. Here we go.

**** WHY elevator music? Why not simply a local radio station or a CD being played on a repeating loop? I mean, who decided that Guns-N-Roses would sound divine on a harpsichord? I mean, seriously, come on people.

**** WHY is life backwards? I mean, why do we waste naps on the young (who don't want them) instead of giving them to the folks who NEED them (like say, moms, or third grade teachers)? WHY is it that you try to mind-meld a time warp in order to speed up time when you're younger and then feel that the world is whipping by at breakneck speed when you hit your thirties? WHY must you gain all the knowledge/wisdom as you age, and then when you possess it, the only good it'll do is to pass it along to a young preteen/teenager (possibly your own) who will think much the same way you did at his/her age ("Mom's so lame"), ignore it, and have to make all the same stupid mistakes you made in order to gain the SAME knowledge/wisdom you just tried to cram into their head? WHY do the little people of the world (i.e., toddlers and preschoolers, and even most kindergarten-goers) have the energy of FIFTY-FIVE THOUSAND ATOMIC BOMBS, while their mothers are left with the energy of a moss-covered sloth? Doesn't that just seem backwards to you?

**** WHY am I having such a hard time getting my butt into a regular blogging routine? Stay tuned for the answer to that one...I'm about to ****GASP**** post twice in ONE NIGHT! Holy Moly! What can I say, I'm on a productive streak now that my Adderall has kicked in.

NOW - your turn. Ya'll aren't playing well. I've only had a single "WHY" left for me (thanks Elaine)! Come on - leave me a few "whys" - I'd love to hear what rattles around your brain from time to time!

August 12, 2010

Okay girlie, you can just go on ahead and get off your high horse there - yeah. You. I know. I KNOW it's not Wednesday and here I am posting my "WHY Wednesday" post on, well, Thursday, but COME ON. Don't you realize that we are just now wrapping up the first week of school and my little Hellions Darlin's have absolutely SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF ME this week? Is it possible that these children are really not children at all, but rather some sort of other-worldly beings that are literally, slowly, sucking the life out of me? How is it possible for one person to be so dadgum tired after simply talking about rules, complete sentences, short vowels, and fantasy vs reality stories? I kid you not ya'll, I totally came home Monday and Tuesday and just passed out on the couch - the first night I managed to hook up my kids with some tasty pre-heated microwave meals, and on Tuesday, well, Chore Fairy Jr. was on her own, the two year old got vaguely warm chicken nuggets at 8pm and Kingdaddy and I skipped supper altogether.

I know what you're thinking now..."Well, what about Wednesday? Did you pass out that day too?" and the answer is, "No. No I did not." I was actually feeling pretty good, so I took advantage of the good feelings and empty house (Kingdaddy and TMan had gone to the homebuilding site - did I mention we're building? and Chore Fairy Jr. was on one of her walks around the neighborhood) by calling up Mom and chatting away with out constant interruptions. It was such bliss, especially after hearing my married name prefixed with "Mrs." all day long by 21 adorable kidlets. Almost always all at once, I might add. Sometimes I just want to say, "What the crud, dude? Can you NOT see I am TALKING to another human being (or possible otherworldy being, disguised as a third grade Alabamian)? DO NOT FLIPPIN INTERRUPT PEOPLE!! ERRRR!!!"

Okay. See what I'm talking about? I have totally been a ball of nerves and exhaustion most of the week, which makes being entertaining and interesting oh, so difficult. ***Insert "sigh" and exaggerated hair toss with hand placed delicately over forehead, Scarlett-style, here.*** I so totally deserved that little slice of peace and quiet, just talking about this and that. Sort of like I do on here. So, um, I guess I don't know why I didn't post yesterday, but I'm gonna go with in-my-aliens-are-sucking-the-life-out-of-me state, I didn't even actually REALIZE that yesterday was Wednesday until it wasn't Wednesday anymore and well, you know, by then it was just too late. ya' know. And I'm sure you're feeling so much better for it, right?

Whatever. Let's cut to the chase and examine a few "whys" for Why Wednesday Thursday (just this once - hopefully - depending on what the alien children do to me in the future).

***You know those times, when your angel decides that 3:30 am is a perfectly acceptable time to rise and shine for the day and you're desperately trying to keep him quiet so at least the rest of the household can sleep? WHY must he decide to play with the LOUDEST FREAKING TOY HE OWNS?? Why not the sweet, soft, stuffed (quiet) doggie? Why does it HAVE to be the firetruck, complete with fire engine sounds and flashing lights? WHY? Someone please tell me.

***Why can't dogs clear their throats? Why do they have to be destined to hack and cough as though they had a smoking habit for the past 50 years (or past 350 years in dog years)? Does your dog "hack" and do you try to "coerce" him into just stopping with all that unpleasantness? *Hack, hack, HACK, HACK.*

Excuse me. Pardon. I had to clear my throat.

* **Why does putting something cold on your head make it feel better when it aches? For real, there must be some sort of science behind that one ya'll. Enlighten me if you're all scientific and stuff. about some "whys" from ya'll. Keep 'em comin'! :)

PS I'd just like to take this opportunity to totally FREAK out with complete and total utter humiliating gushiness over the fact that, unless my Blog Frog visitor tracker is totally messing with me, ya'll, The Bloggess visited my blog!!!! I'm SO pumped up right now! Granted, she probably found it totally by mistake and lingered for roughly 1.4 seconds (okay, I won't sell myself short - 1.9 seconds) before clicking off to another much more fabulous blog, but who the heck cares?? She stopped by!!! She all but said, "hello" simply by checking in!!!! Maybe by this time next week we'll be BFF's and then we can both blog about how Diet Dr Pepper is messing with us all (is it REALLY Diet or not) and how everyone should totally own a James Garfield. Granted, I don't have anything as fabulous as her James Garfield, BUT I do lay claim to one Bob the Bobcat who watches over me as I type this very post, snarling pose and all. But back to the gushiness - YA'LL THE BLOGGESS FREAKING STOPPED BY HERE, so you're totally within 6 degrees of separation of total Blogdom Awesomeness. You can thank me later.

August 4, 2010

WHY Wednesday?

Okay, in order to get my butt back into a routine of some sort, and so as to not disappoint my one two loyal readers (thanks Mom and Kim), I thought I'd start a weekly post of some of my musings that pop into my know the type, they are often more logical than folks give you credit for and yet for some reason, they sometimes make you feel too embarrassed to ask them. Since very little embarrasses me, most days anyway, I thought, what the heck. You do realize though, that by reading this you are obligating yourself to adding your very own "Whys" in the comments section, right? Before proceeding further, please sign here X___________________, here: X_____________________, and here: X____________________ and initial here X_______________________ and here: X__________________________. Okay, now that we have the legal mumbo jumbo out of the way, here goes my very first attempt at "Why Wednesday:"

* Why do toddlers insist on stripping their toys of their accessories? Right now, in America alone, there are over 900,000 naked Barbies being deprived of fabulous shiny dresses. Right now in our living room there are 42,363 cars/trucks/tractors with no tires - yep, you guessed it: naked wheels.

* Why is seeing someone falling down so darn funny? Why do we laugh so hysterically at those awesome cats that have that I-totally-meant-to-run-into-that-sliding-glass-door look on their faces right after running into said sliding glass door?

*And speaking of funny, or rather, NOT funny, why do advertisers  and movie people think that kids and babies throwing up is a funny gag? These people have obviously never been on the receiving end of an "Omenesque" event at 2am, while tripping over the dog and praying that the vomit won't be spread too far and wide for you to clean up with what's left of  the carpet cleaner that you meant to pick up at the store yesterday after work but forgot to because you were too distracted entranced by your little darlin' and his demands precious requests for more sweet tea that he is now throwing up all over you. I mean, really, people, what gives?

Okay - your turn - what "whys" do you have for me today?

July 22, 2010

She's BAAAAaaaaaccccckkk!

I'm sure you're wondering where I've been, so let's make this fun. Here are your choices about where I've been:

Have I (a) been climbing the Himalayas, trying to "find" myself?, (b) enormously pregnant and on flat-on-the-back-bed-rest for forty forevers?, or have I (c) been shooting the latest Ocean's *fill-in-the-latest-number-in-the-series-here* with (*sigh*), George Clooney? Come on, which one would you say was true?

Well, if you know me, AT ALL, you'd be able to see that the first choice, (a) climbing mountains in search of "the true Malin", is absolutely ridiculous, seeing as I am in no mood to be hiking...especially in this heat, bless our hearts. And besides, I know who I am, so there's no need to go lookin' for me.

That brings us to choice (b), which probably seemed sorta obvious at first, but again, if you know me AT ALL, you know that I have a complete set of children - one boy, one girl - why on Earth would I want to go and throw that all out of balance? Pregnant? PUH-LEESE! No sir, I'm good with my two angels, thank you very much.

So, then, HEY....I musta' been out jet-setting with Mr. Clooney, huh? How exciting is that? I know, right? Can you believe it? I mean, I never in a million years would've thought I'd be out painting the town red with the likes of Clooney, Pitt, and that Roberts lady? Awesome, huh?

Okay. FINE. I've just been here in little ole' Alabama this whole time. I did exactly what my husband says I do all the time: I got on fire for something, thought about it 24/7, and then burned out like a flash and moved on to the next thing. I hate it when he's right, but I do have a tendency to be rather, *ahem*. shall we say, "intense"?

 I was all about blogging at first, both here and on the Fabulous Freeman Four blog, and well, I guess I just got too busy to force myself to make time for it. Bummers.

Well, I'm BACK, so watch out folks - and I've got some GREAT posts coming up - some that'll make you happy (I hope), some that'll make you chuckle (oh, I hope) and maybe even one or two that'll bring a tear to your eye. And of course, I'm sure to have a few that'll make you go "hhhmmmm......" So stay tuned - it's gonna be an awesome ride!

February 20, 2010

pink M&Ms

Let's set the scene.

Adorable son, TMan, not quite two years old, sitting on couch. Adorable husband, Kingdaddy, sitting on floor facing TMan. They are doing their little father-son routine (tease, tickle, talk, giggle, etc.). It's Valentine's Day and there is an abundance of Valentine's candy around. Kingdaddy decides to share some with TMan, as we talk about our day. 

"Blah, blah, blah, got some nice flowers from one of my students, wasn't that so sweet?" says me.

"Yeah, blah, blah, blah,." says Kingdaddy.

I begin to notice that TMan doesn't look very comfortable all of a sudden. He has a strange look on his face - intense, yet uncomfortable at the same time.

Kingdaddy: "You didn't put an M&M up your nose did you?"

Me: "Oh, Lord"

Kingdaddy: "Hey, go get me a flashlight" (this is being said as he holds an unhappy TMan's head back and fruitlessly peers up the boy's nostrils. Did I mention that we live in a house so naturally "dark" that it's like a cave?)

I follow orders and bring Kingdaddy the flashlight.

We take turns shooting golden rays up our son's nose, desperately trying to see...anything.

We agree that all we see is what is supposed to be up there when you're sick and we go about our business.

TMan continues to look uncomfortable & unsure, and he sounds a little stuffy in a weird sort of way.

I keep staring at TMan.

Even in the darkness of the afternoon light, I can see something...what is that? Oh my heavens, it's's a pink trickle...a powder puff, pastel pink shade of trickle coming out of my baby's nose...OMG.

I report back to Kingdaddy, who has now moved on to his favorite computer games, and he insists it's gotta be unlikely, because we looked and didn't see anything.(Typical man.)

The phone rings. Kingdaddy takes care of that while I continue to stare up my son's nostrils with the now-retrieved flashlight for the second time.

More pink trickle, albeit very faint. I then tell Kingdaddy, "I swear I think there's an...."

and that's when it happens....


and we have in our midst, just in time for Valentine's Day...

Chocolate Snot!

OMG!!! I began hacking and grabbing at the tissue box, wishing I hadn't just witnessed such abuse of chocolate and unsure as to if  I'll ever be able to look at an M&M the same way again. 

As I continued to wipe, and wipe, and wipe, I had to wonder - just how much chocolate is IN a single M&M anyway? 

So - how was YOUR Valentine's Day?   

For original location of opening photo, please click here.

February 14, 2010

snow sick....uh, no snow...and sick...

Okay, if you live in the vicinity of D.C. or anywhere else that has gotten two BILLION tons of snow in the past two weeks, feel free to kill me now...I'll wait while you cast your voo-doo spells, gnash your teeth, and otherwise do/say unkind things about me and the generations to come after me....done? Okay, good. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, I simply MUST vent.

I am an educated person. I know that precision in meteorology is an oxymoron of the largest kind.
HOWEVER, when we've heard the little shephard boy cry "wolf" (or in this case, "SNOW") three (count 'em, THREE) times in less that that many weeks only to get NOTHING or, wait, two flakes, it begins to grate on the nerves and reduces even the most mature adult, such as myself, into a teary-eyed kid of 6 who screams, "That's not fair! We NEVER get snow!"

I WANT MY SNOW. No, I do not want the two billion tons that the East Coast is trying to dig out of - no thank you...I may want snow, but I'm not stupid. But what I do want is enough snow for us, years later, to say, "Remember that really big snow we got in 2010? We made snow ice cream, snow angels, snowmen, and had the best snowball fight ever! Oh, and remember sliding down the hill on our cardboard "sleds?" What fun!"

Instead, what we keep REPEATEDLY getting is "Oh, yeah, it's gonna snow - be prepared. Have your winter weather preparedness plan in place people, it's gonna be a big one," only to wake up to...two flakes. We've already missed two and a half days of school (two of which we have to make up) - personally, I think the weathermen should have to shell out a year's salary to make up for our missed "snow" days of school. Then we'll be even.

To add to it, everyone in our family is sick, 'cept for Kingdaddy. Deep chest coughs, runny noses, fevers...we've got it all. We've got enough antibiotics to choke a herd of horses, yet still we cough and wheeze. How many shots is too many in one week? I've had five this week...and apparently need more. Ugh.

The only thing I think would cure our ill family? A heapin' helping of snow ice cream...which, guess what? The weatherman says we're gonna get it tonight...he doesn't have a clue does he? Bless his heart.

PS. OBVIOUSLY the photo is NOT from my camera, NOT taken on my road, and NOT of the TWO FLAKES we got here in AL. I swiped it from a Photoshop photo editing site:

February 8, 2010

things i would do IF....

Okay, I've been giving this WAY more time in my thought patterns than is reasonably reasonable, so I thought maybe if I could put it in writing, I would be less distracted by all that I WANT to do, so that I can actually get done all that I NEED to do (and lucky me, some of the things I "need" to do, I actually want to do - do you follow?).

But first, some background (this is where all my students would sigh really loudly, shift in their seats, possibly roll an eye or two and be thinking, "Come on, just get on with it already" - feel free to do any or all of the above if you feel it necessary.)

I remember being a kid and saying, "I'm bored." And I guess I was. But it's been EONS since I've felt that way, or even thought that. What I wouldn't give to be "bored" just once in my life these days. Apparently, when you hit the downward slope towards age 40, starting somewhere around 35, your life literally shifts into turbo speed and suddenly there aren't enough hours in the day to do all that you need to do, all that you are expected to do,  and certainly not all that you actually WANT to do. Recreation? What's that? I ask with a snort! Leisure? Who is she?

So, while I wistfully watch some of my stay-at-home-mom friends make up their own schedule and be their own boss of their time (okay, well, except when anyone in their family is home, which is often, I admit), I longingly imagine what I would do with my time, if I had "my" time to do with what I are a few of my ideas...

1. You know those 2,362 books stacked up by my nightstand (where I never get to read)? Yep - I'd read them all...twice. and Books-A-Million have made more money off me in the past three to five years with all my book buying and non-reading activities. And here I am, BEGGING most of my kids to crack a book and read - if only I were given a slice of the day for nothing but pleasure reading....oh, the beauty of it all is almost too much to bear! *Ahem* Okay, excuse me while I try to regain my composure...

Give me just a minute.

Okay, carry on.

2. On the same know all those Family Fun magazines and home decorating magazines and all those home catalogs I've been collecting for, oh, 2 years now (oh yeah, and don't forget the 322 issues of scrapbooking magazines I've held onto for over 7 years now??) Yep - I'd read them every one. Then I'd tear out the articles (the crafty how-to's, the recipes, the scrapbook page layouts, and the gorgeous pictures of the gorgeously decorated {and spotless} rooms in the gorgeous home decor magazines) and I'd file them in their proper places in my binders I keep. I know, I know. *Insert dork snort here.* But I really do. I love to file things and I love to have neat little binders with ideas and what-not that I can refer to back later. What can I say, I'm an office supplies junky who gets her kicks by filing and organizing information.


3. I'd learn to sew. I've come close a few times. I've even got a sewing machine that looks really, really awesome (we interrupt this blog post for a shout out to MomtheBomb's mother: "Thanks Mom! I promise I'll learn to use it before you're 100!") and I've bought some supplies for it (needles, thread, pin cushion, pinking shears, "Sewing for Dummies"), but I've never been unintimidated enough to actually set it up and take a crack at it. But I will. One day. Maybe sooner, if I can figure out how to harness the power of the universe and stop time - boy the havoc I could wreak with THAT superpower, Mwa-Ha-Ha! (evil laugh). That's for another post though.

Moving on...

4. You know all the crap/junk/stuff (the description we use depends on the kind of mood we're in at the time) that Kingdaddy is always complaining about? I'd Ebay so much crap so fast that we'd have to go shopping just to get by in our day-to-day lives. Hey, I love me some Ebay!

5. CLEAN. You can take a moment if you need to - I know - I actually said "clean" and I meant it. My goodness, when my family is out of the house (which is RARELY), the things I can get done are AMAZING when it comes to cleaning. I have no idea why this is. Perhaps they interrupt me occasionally (ya think?). Then again, maybe I don't want to shatter the image they have of me being all glamorous and diva-like and therefore I simply cannot be productive under their watchful eyes (uh, yeah, whatever). Regardless, I can't get JACK done with the house full, but buddy, empty it out for a few hours and let me loose. I would SO love to give this house the once (or twice) over....uninterrupted....glamor and all.

(You can actually purchase these beauties at this coolio-dude etsy store, IF you can convince the cool chich that makes them to make some more...just click HERE.)

Once again...movin' on...

6. Organize my photos on the computer. This takes me fifty-forevers, simply because I am so darn OCD that I make folders for my folder's folders and then get confused about where I put TMan's boot pictures or Chore Fairy Jr.'s birthday shots. would be nice to finally have a system up and running. And current.

Are you bored yet?

Good! 'Cause I'm not! Can you see now why I'm having a hard time concentrating on my blissfully full day-to-day life? :)

7. SCRAPBOOK - gosh I LOVE to scrapbook but it's been so long since I've done it, I'm wondering if I've forgotten how. This is one area Kingdaddy can gripe that I've got too much stuff/crap/junk (depending on the mood HE'S in - obviously since it belongs to me, it's my "belongings") - my scrap stuff takes up over half our bedroom (and we've got a HUGE bedroom). Then again, he's got a whole, no...he's got TWO whole shops, so wait just a darn minute...excuse me while I go yell at Kingdaddy for a amongst yourselves...

Boy, did I tell HIM. Heh-heh-heh.
Okay, where were we?
Numero ocho! (That's number eight for those of you who don't speak Spanish - betcha' didn't know I was bi-lingual, huh? I said bi-LINGUAL - you know, speaks two languages - not whatever on earth YOU were thinkin'...get your mind out of the gutter for Pete's sake)!

8. Take a photography class. I'm already a pretty darn decent photographer. I know that sounds super duper ego-maniacal, but it's true. I'm pretty decent at it. Now, after saving my money for over a year, and finally getting the most awesomest, coolio-dude camera...I'd love for someone to show me how to turn the friggin' thing on. Okay, not really, but I WOULD like to take a real class for learning how to adjust the ISO or the white light or any of the doo-dads that were so necessarily expensive to have. I can operate the bells...just needin' a little help with the whistles.

9. Start some new hobbies (as if I NEED more things to do): candle-making and soap making have caught my eye here recently and I've bought a few books on the topics (if you're wondering where I keep my books, it's NOT in the TWO shops I DON'T have, but rather a more inconvenient space...see #1 above), but with all my free time I simply haven't carved the time needed to embark on the new escapades. Nor do I have two, count 'em Kingdaddy, TWO, shops to store my "new-hobby-belongings" in. My son sleeps in the dining room as it is...maybe I could store the new hobby stuff under his crib, I mean there's TONS of unused space under there....hhhmmmm....

10. Catch up on my Bible study. Yes, seriously. I've started this book (okay, this is ONE book I actually make time to read each day, besides my Bible) that is all about praying your way through the Bible. Well, I got a little behind, so now I feel stressed about catching up, being a little OCD and all, and if today is February 8th, then I want to be reading the page with February 8th at the top, not February 2nd. I hate feeling like I'm behind schedule, which is ironic since I'm almost always late to every single thing I attend.

11. Organize and prep all the Children's Church crafts for the next 3 months. Woo-boy, I'd really feel caught up then! As of now, I'm often up til 3am on Saturday night trying to squeeze out perfectly prepared foam craft thingies for the next day's Children's Church service. I love doing it - just hate that "gotta catch up" feeling.

12. Organize and prep ALL my stuff for ALL my lessons at school, so all I'd have to do each day is reach for a folder or whatever and go. That would almost be as awesome as having my own aide, like Mississippi does for all their K-3 teachers.But NNNnnnoooooooooooo....not Alabama! No, we gotta be all tough it out, do-it-on-your-own-you-wimpy-teachers and stuff.

13. PLAY - on Twitter, on my blogs, on my computer, on the Internet, on Facebook (I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE Farmville). Speaking of Farmville, can you believe someone has actually gone and created some sort of program that will basically play the game for you when you aren't able to be sad is that, that we are in demand of something to perform our leisurely duties??? Makes me crazy to think about it. Wish I'd have thought of it first though....then maybe I could quit my job, be a stay-at-home-mom, and feel as though I had stopped time by getting a few of these things checked off my list.



What would YOU do if you had an unlimited amount of interruption-free time (besides freak out because you know you'd be thinkin' you had died and had literally gone to heaven)? Leave your comments - I'd love to hear from you. And bless your heart for stoppin' by.

February 6, 2010

things that make you go hmmmmm....

1. Why does your hair ONLY do EXACTLY what you want it to do when it's dirty (and therefore not shiny and bouncy and really, let's be honest, non-baglady-lookin')?

2. Why does the phone stay silent all day long, but then rings off the hook when you are (a) about to leave the house in a mad dash to get to whereever you said you'd be ten minutes ago or (b) just settled down in the perfect position to complete whatever task(s) it is you do in front of the T.V. since we all know no woman in the world simply watches T.V. - we're multi-taskers by genetic makeup and therefore are not designed to do just one thing at a time, much less something so relatively mindless as watching the latest woman-in-peril Lifetime Movie (which, by the way, my husband LOVES...wonder if that means anything....hmmmm....) and then you have to move all your stuff, trying not to mess up any of your organized chaos in order to jump across the couch to snatch the phone off it's base, only to have the other person on the line hang up?

3. Why do you only remember that you really need to clip the dogs' nails when it's 2am and you are trying desperately to get to the bathroom without waking the baby that is sleeping not-so-soundly in his crib and said dog is tip-tapping behind you, taking two MONUMENTOUS SNIPPETY SNAPPITY steps for your every one?

4. Why can't printer ink be universal? Why must there be twenty-kazillion different make, models, and numbers of ink cartridges that we consumers have to keep track of?  Can't we just make it easy on all of us and have a black cartridge and a colored cartridge and be done with it?

5. Why is it that the only time you run into two billion people that you know is when you've run up to the quick stop for a quart of milk, wearing your "cleaning clothes" (bleached stained t-shirt, baggy sweat pants, slipper socks, crocs), but when you jet by the grocery store after church in your best church attire, you don't even know the cashier who checks you out?

Just thought I'd share a few "why's" - perhaps I'll start doing this on Wednesdays and make it a "Why Wednesdays" regular post.

Why didn't I think of that on a Wednesday instead of a Saturday?

February 2, 2010

kids are weird...

But in a good way...usually. At the very least, they're interesting. Here are a few things that I have learned in third grade:

1. Blue water is amazing: yes, water dyed with food coloring FASCINATES and TOTALLY EXCITES third graders.  Used for a science demonstration, all the kids were practically going into convulsions with their pleas to drink some.

2. They are the MacGyvers of the kid set: Third graders can take any regular household object (a-la-MacGyver style) and create what can only be described as some sort of art or robot or imaginary shooting device. The first week of school I had to confiscate all the paper clips they had found and the cap erasers I'd given them because of all the supplies they were "wasting" on their little 3-D projects. 

3. Customs agents would freak out: if any of these kids tried to enter the country from another land because they wouldn't hesitate to stuff an exotic animal or really anything non-exotic into their suitcases as a souvenir. Some of the things they've brought into the classroom include: worms, icicles, berries from the trees along the walking track, bugs, chipmunks (granted, that one was actually in a cage, but still), rocks, sand, sticks, and one dead frog. 

4. Ticker tape parades, confetti-throwing, and cymbal-crashing would be among the top choices of attention-getting gimicks they would use to entice a new kid to be their friend on said new kid's first day. Bless their hearts, third graders LOSE THEIR MINDS when a new kid enrolls in the class. It's as though they've never seen another child from outside their world. They all act insane, in the hopes of getting new kid's attention. Then when the new wears off, they complain about new kid just like they do everyone else. That's when the new kid knows he's "in." 

5. No passing zone! My word, this third grade class I'm teaching this year is VERY concerned with where they are in line and it doesn't matter if we're going to lunch or taking a bathroom break...whatever you do....don't pass. Granted, it is rather rude to pass someone when we're all going to the same place, but it is not the end-of-my-life-end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it if Bobby Sue gets to the toilet two seconds before I do. I guess since third graders don't have to worry about taxes and grocery shopping, their place in line must be what they lie awake at night mulling over. I wonder if they try to think up new strategies to improve their line placement skills: Tomorrow when Bobby Sue starts to line up I'll distract her by dropping my jacket on the floor and when she leans down to pick it up, I'll jump ahead of her and (*insert evil villain laugh here*) I'll be in front of her in line...maybe even by two people!

6. Lotion-enhanced Kleenex tastes like mints. It's true! No, I didn't go around licking tissues, but my kids did. I guess without that kind of novel thinking, (hhhmmm....I wonder what THAT tastes like...I think I'll find out) we probably would have no clue how great the taste of Kiwi fruit is or how yummy cows taste when properly seasoned and grilled. 

7. If you can't see me, then you can't hear me either. WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP!....*breathing hard* "Mrs." *breathing hard* "Freeman?" *breathe, breathe, breathe, breathe*, "we're back from P.E." Uh, yeah..."Jimmy Joe - don't run in the hallways." 
"How did you know I was *breathe, breathe, breathe* running?" 

  8. If my pencil says I'm special, it must be true. Third graders are very possessive when it comes to their pencils. I hear countless wails of concern about Jimmy Joe having Bo Boy's pencil and Loretty Lou having Leroy Wayne's pencil, etc., etc., etc., It's a community classroom - if you can't find a pencil on your desk or in our pencil cup, look on the floor - there's bound to be at least 12 of them lying around and some of them might even have erasers...if no one has used it for a scuplture/robot/weapon yet. 

P.S. If you don't know who MacGyver is, click here:

January 30, 2010

he's a boob man...

Okay, maybe it's because he was breastfed, then again, it could be some sort of "wiring" that the male species just comes with, but it has come to my recent attention that T.Man is definitely a boob man. Nothing makes him more content than to grab my shirt and check out my personal belongings (so much for modesty). He seems particularly intrigued with a small freckle that I was blessed with (okay, *sigh*, it's a mole....but it's really not that noticeable - well, to anyone but T.Man.). Every time he snuggles up to me (and often just when he happens to be sitting in my lap), out come his little pinchers and he's off to make certain that my freckle (*sigh*, okay, OKAY, mole - there, are you happy?) has not gone to live with some other deserving family. I know young folks can be a bit "odd" (no offense kiddos), but between his innocent ogling of Mom's packaging, his absolute can't-take-my-eyes-off-it.....MOLE...., and his tendency to drag around heavy electronics by the cord (first it was a waffle-iron, then a clothes iron, then he moved on to the George Foreman Lean Mean Grillin' Machine), I'm beginning to really wonder about the the little fella...bless his heart.

January 27, 2010

uh, sorry...i hadn't noticed...

I can't stinkin' believe all the stuff that goes unnoticed around here - by me, by Kingdaddy, by ChoreFairy Jr....okay, T.Man is off the hook since he's not even 2 yet, but sheesh!

1. I'm all smart and pattin' myself on the back for ordering these nifty grocery sack holder-thingies that loop around your car's headrest. I'm thinking, "I am SO smart - this will help SO much when we do our massive, almost bankrupt-us trips to Wal-Mart." I head out to the SUV today to install them - guess what? I don't HAVE headrests. DUH!

2. All I hear about is how cluttered our house is (it is) and how we have too much stuff (we do) and not enough places to put it (again, true too), so I decide to impress Kingdaddy by cleaning out the computer desk and trying to eek out a little space inside and outside said desk. I spend roughly 2/3 of my Sunday doing it (because T.Man INSISTED on being in the middle of everything, so there were lots of tears [T.Man's, not mine] and the occasional frustrated not-so-nice-verbiage [mine, not's]), I manage to outdo myself on the drawers and even opened up lots of space for our feet underneath the desk and most importantly, found a place to store our no-longer-needed-but-let's-hold-onto-it-in-case-we-have-a-keyboard-emergency keyboard. I'm all smug and feelin' good and when I ask Kingdaddy what he thinks, ya' know what he says? "Oh yeah, it looks good. But I don't really remember what it looked like before." ARRGGGHHH!!! Is that scenario a reasonable excuse for spousal homicide?

3. Chore Fairy Jr. announces that she's done cleaning up her room (and let's be honest, the word "cleaning" is being used very loosely here). MomtheBomb (that's me), enters and immediately spies the following on the floor: one crushed water bottle, one water bottle with a little water left in it, five bottle caps, three dirty socks, paper, more paper, pencils, earrings, one shoe, a bath rag, paper, more paper, and an assortment of books. When MomtheBomb asks about these items, Chore Fairy Jr. gives me the blank, what-on-earth-are-you-talking-about-woman stare, which is shortly followed by, "But it IS clean!"

My conclusion? Housework is something that only gets noticed when it's NOT done.

January 22, 2010

things i should never have to say...

Top Ten Things I Should Never Have Had To Say (but did...)

1. Don't play with the stapler.

2. What do you mean you don't know how you're getting home today? (Almost always said 2 minutes before the bell rings to go home.)

3. Stop looking up cuss words in the dictionary.

4. I hope that's not a staph infection.

5. Did you put the oranges in the toilet?

6. Leave the worms ALONE!

7. We don't have "special pencils" in third grade - JUST TAKE ONE AND SIT DOWN!

8. Who is responsible for this giant ball of tape back here?

9. Quit staring at the groundhog.

10. Who put the [fill-in-the-blank-here] in the sink - that's just gross!'s more than a's a life choice.

January 18, 2010

who am i and why am i here?

Okay, in all my blogging attempts I have managed to focus on my family (1 dear husband, 1 dear son, 1 dear daughter, 3 dogs and countless porch critters). Cut and paste here for that sugary sweetness:

This blog is just for documentation of my fabulous, high-rollin', snooty-tooty, full-of-awesomeness, life. Yeah. Whatever.

I've been reading many, many other blogs (thanks to my new time killer Christmas gift, my iTouch - what a flippin' awesome gadget - thanks Dad!) and I must let you know that I am not thebloggess. If you haven't caught her blog, and you are not offended by major league potty mouthedness (okay, I know I just made up that word - I'm a teacher, so I can do that), you really should check her out, particularly her posts about Diet Dr. Pepper and the lies told by the Doc, and DEFINITELY the James Garfield posts. I actually snorted with laughter and almost (I said, ALMOST, meaning not quite) peed my pants when I read her posts. Hysterical gal. The sad part about it is I TOTALLY got why she had to have James Garfield. It's not something I can explain, but I get it.

The other blogger I've been following really closely is the snarky mom. She has only minor league potty mouthedness, but she's equally as funny as the bloggess, albeit more in line with the momness of things. (Yeah, I know, I made up another word. Go me.) She's the kind of gal that I could not sit through a decent hour of people watching with without screaming in laughter and giving other people even more reason to dislike themselves.

Speaking of which, don't you think we're all just a little too hard on ourselves these days? I mean, for crying out loud, particularly us gals - we're expected to do it all (work full time at a place of business and also full time at home), look good doin' it, dress uncomfortably, and smile and be sweet the whole time?? Whatever. If I can find a way to do it right AND cut corners, I'm there with bells on Missy! If it's comfortable, cozy, saves time and/or energy (meaning MY lacking-in-energy-hypothyroidistic-butt...thanks Mom AND Dad), I'm all about it with a pat of butter. As long as the job is getting done well (sorry, but I'm a bit of a perfectionist in a very weird sort of way), then cut all the corners you can. I'm just sayin'.

I've been blessed with a husband who loves to eat out. Granted, some of this is due to the fact that I can't cook. Yeah, okay, go ahead with the "did ya' hear about the girl from the South that couldn't cook?" jokes. ANYWAY, because of my lack of skills and his desire to eat everything battered and deep fried, we spend many a meal picking up lunch and supper from our local quick stop or truck stop. Seriously. I remember the days when I used to be amazed that people ate "real" food (read: perishable, must be refrigerated and cooked) that came from truck stops or quick stops. Shoot, that's about all we eat now-a-days. But really, the food is really very good, from huge and awesomely good-for-you Chef salads to made-to-order club sandwiches, they've just about got it all between our three choices. I'm not sure which is suffering more - our health or the planet (that's a lot of Styrofoam we're adding to the landfills each week). Maybe my lack of political correctedness in regards to the environment will get my blog more hits? One can always hope.

Well, that's about it for now. I know some of you are still mulling over the whole "three choices" of places to eat thing. Yeah, yeah - you know the drill - teeny town, everybody knows every body's business and what they don't know they make up, one stop-light, one...maybe two?? police cars, yada, yada, yada. Yep, it's small. And it's home.

January 9, 2010

bless your heart ya'll...

Ahhh..."bless your heart." I love the South. I love being a Southerner. We so enjoy playing around with our language, creating cliches, catchphrases, and oddball comments that stick for whatever reason. The phrase, "bless your heart," when spoken directly to the person (as in this case 'cause of the use of the word "you"), it is a sincere sign of affection. A verbal hug, if you will. It is most often said from one female to another, usually after one of the gals has opened her heart to reveal what a tough time she's been having lately (her church family isn't getting along, for example, or maybe her husband is being a man...yes, you read that right, but that's a whole other post). We Southerners are known for our hospitality and thanks to the movie, "Steel Magnolias," someone finally figured out that all the women down here aren't in constant competition with each other but rather, are genuinely and for the most part, loyal friends. That bein' said, there are other ways to use the whole "bless your heart" phrase and I admit, some of them aren't so friendly.

When someone says, "bless her/his heart," it can mean any number of things, most of them not terribly flattering to the "her/his" in question. Here are a few scenarios you may come across in which the meaning of the phrase may be a bit blurry, particularly to folks that aren't from these parts:

(a) Sympathetic with a smile - while most of you are probably thinking, "Well, sympathy is always a nice thing to show to another person," some of you (who know where I'm goin' with this) realize it's not necessarily a positive type of sympathy. You see, when someone says "bless her heart" in a sympathetic tone with a smile, she is usually insinuating that the person we're blessing isn't all together with the program. Well, Malin, what do you mean by that? Well, I'll ya' - I mean that this poor soul is clueless. Ditzy. Slow. Bless her heart.

(b) Sympathetic shock - Okay, this sympathy is not all that bad, it really is truly meant, however, it's more along the lines of, "Oh-my-gosh-thank-you-Lord-that-hasn't-happened-to-me/my-family/my-children," etc. This blessing of hearts is often heard in loud whispers, said with wide eyes, and anticipated by any gossip-monger within twenty miles, 'cause there's always a really juicy story (albeit sometimes sad) on the other side of the "bless her heart."

(c) Sarcastic - What? Didn't you know that sarcasm was birthed and bred in the south? Why my goodness yes! Where you been all these years?! The sarcastic "bless her heart" is said in frustration with the latest heart-bleeding, violin-playin', "ain't-nothin'-goin'-right-and-nothin-ever-will" kinda' gal. You know the type - the kind that no matter what's goin' on, she's gonna be complainin' about SOMETHING and her life is always worse off than anyone else's. In reality, she's got all she needs and probably more than enough, yet she's never satisfied. that I think about it, I've heard more "bless HIS hearts" used for this purpose. Hhhmmm....

I hope I've given you some things to think about, concerning blessings, Southerners, and the like. I decided on a whim to carve out this corner of the Internet for myself. I've got another blog that I don't get to update as much as I'd like ( that revolves around my family. This one's just for me. And for you...bless your heart.