Please Tell Me...

*Disclaimer* If you are a member of my family, especially if you are my sister, you may want to skip this post. If you read it, you may not find it humorous, which it is intended to be. If you read it anyway, consider yourself forewarned and don't disown me, m'kay?

Please tell me that with a good corset, some sexy shoes and a little bit of duct tape you can survive any dress.

Please.

Pretty please with a cherry on top?



Yes, they do make it in a size 10.

No, I'm not sure making it in a size 10 is a good idea either.

I'm also not sure how a strapless dress is supposed to stay on boobies that now require strapping.

You have no idea how much I wish my sister were Mormon right now...

Please Pray

*Edit to Update*
Handyman Bob is out of surgery, they *think* the retina is OK, they will replace the lens once the eye is stable. Thanks for all your kind thoughts and prayers. I really mean what I said about the safety goggles, glasses aren't enough. Handyman Bob was only driving a nail, no nail gun, just a hammer. He wears glasses, but the nail managed to flip back and get him anyhow.

Girls, if you'd be so kind as to put Handyman Bob in your prayers, I'd be really grateful. There was a handyman type accident this morning, he is being flown to a hospital in the city. If you have a handy guy, or are a handy girl yourself, please, please, please remember your safety goggles, even if you are just doing a routine task. We are praying for his life, his sight and his family. Thanks.

Water Tension

We decided to experiment with water tension today by making clay boats.


ONE boat


TWO boats


THREE boats


What the.....



And of course, now we have to sink the boats

Random Soup

Note to self:
When your toddler says "Taa Daaaaaah!", don't just absent mindedly repeat her and smile your self assured smile that your toddler, is the cutest toddler in the world. Especially when you've given her gum to keep her quiet in the library. You need to LOOK at the child. If the child is stringing gum around her head, one "Taa Daaaaah!" equals one lap around the head. Five "Taa Daaaaah!'s" is a LOT of gum to clean up.

Why Boys are Easier:
I was discussing K's guest list for her upcoming b-day party. I find myself only a week to party time, so I will be calling to invite people...again. So I asked her, "so you want to invite S, and A and K..." She interrupted me and said, "Well, S doesn't like A and A doesn't like S and K doesn't like S."

Wow. Um. OK. Sounds like I may want to have extra hands on deck to referee the clash of the six year olds.

"Well," I asked her, "what about C? You like her right?"

To which K replied, "Oh no! She doesn't like ANYONE! I don't know *what* has gotten into her."

I am dead meat.

And Finally:

I'm official. Well, they're going to let me park there, anyway.

Newsflash

I interrupt this blog to bring you some important news: Mom of All Trades' house is clean. Every room, at the same time. And we aren't expecting company. The clothes are even folded and put away. I rock. Ahem.

I also need to give praise to Jacquelyn Mitchard's new book Cage of Stars. I've actually gone through and read all but two of her books and have yet to be dissapointed. What a talented writer! One of the people on the back cover of the book (Luanne Rice) said it perfectly when she said "...when I finish reading one of her novels, I somehow know more about myself." She did a great job researching the LDS religion to give credibility to her main characters in Cage of Stars. There were a couple goofs, but she is currently asking for readers input so revisions can be made in upcoming printings. Chris over at Notes From the Trenches did an interview with her, which is how I found out about her writing. She seems very down to earth, and she has a real talent for human insight. You should check her out, girls! She's a keeper!

WHAAAAAA!!!!

My baby potty trained her little self this week. I'm not ready for her to be potty trained. I only get to hear the swish-swish of her little diaper booty on the way to bed at night. The walk to the bedroom is not long enough. I never cared to hurry any of the kids along with the potty training, but both girls decided on their own at about 22 months. Maybe it has something to do with Texas summer heat and heavy, hot diapers. Maybe I've discovered the secret for potty trainers everywhere: Try to keep your kid in diapers as long as possible! Seriously. Diapers are much easier than public restrooms with little people who have no germ fear. As soon as you love the idea of diapers forever, your little one will refuse to wear them. Sigh.

Why Homeschool. Part Two.

Picking up where I left off...

Fifth grade was a new life, a second chance at having a good education. How blessed my family was and is, to be friends with both the Director of the lab school, and one of it's best teachers. Now that I think about it, it really is remarkable that the three families that were closest to my grandparents were full of truly talented educators. I don't know how it all went down for sure, but one of the families had a daughter who was becoming a teacher, she was the one who administered the reading test to me as part of her course work. The other two women took care of getting me in the school, and even made sure I had transportation to and from school, since we lived a little hike from town. The school it's self was a learning lab for the students at the college who were training to become teachers. It's simpler to call it a private school, but, that sounds stuffy and privileged. We weren't poor, but my life was not one of privilege. If not for the efforts of my grandparents friends, I would have had no choice but to continue on in public school. This thing they did for us was a blessing beyond measure.

So I started the fifth grade with another round of testing. They figured I could read and comprehend most anything they threw at me now. At some point they made a video of me and a classmate demonstrating our ability to read and regurgitate, like we were some kind of circus act. They managed to make me feel a little bit special and a little more normal and tried to give me a glimpse of what could be possible. The school encouraged students to work at their own pace, and most of the kids that attended were very bright and hardworking. It was something else to be with peers who were above average, it was nice to have it be OK to be smart. And yet, fitting in socially was still elusive for me.

I don't know how I looked on the outside to people, but I was a mess on the inside. I'm pretty sure I spent more time in the councilor's office than the other kids combined. Somewhere along the way, despite the supreme effort of teachers who really cared about me, I lost the thirst for knowledge. What I really wanted, was to fit in, have friends, and not be the butt of people's jokes anymore. School just wasn't fun, it wasn't work, it was just a meaningless time suck punctuated by occasional after school activities that helped keep me from going off the deep end. We still lived on the ranch, and I would awake at four thirty am to complete chores and ride to town with my dad so that he could be at work by 7. After school, I made my way to his office and we rode home at about 7. My sister's accident was followed by my grandfather's illness and I juggled a lot at home. I felt the weight of responsibility around my neck and I resented that it made me even more different.

I was in the seventh grade when I told my family that I didn't want to go to college. I told them I'd change my mind if they'd let me take college classes in place of at least some high school course work. I knew it could be done because the kid I sat next to in typing class took college classes when he was in the ninth grade. I think the push to just hurry up and get childhood over with began around that time. I felt powerless in so many ways, defeated and worn out from wanting to be good, and never quite living up to my potential. In fact, I was sick of hearing about my potential.

The lab school didn't offer high school, so I re-entered the public school system. I had been good at cheerleading, and was encouraged to try out, but just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to do it. I heard you had to pay for the camps and uniforms, and arranging transportation for after practices and games meant negotiations with dad. I figured, "Why bother?" I was just putting in my time so I could get out. Somewhere, I stopped being the gangly girl with the pug nose and became the girl with the small boobs and the great butt. It attracted a few boys, and I picked one. I figured he'd probably use me and dump me, but he told me he loved me and wanted to marry me. I was 15 at the time and the idea that someone thought more of me than I thought of myself put me over the moon. He was a year older than I and when I was a junior in high school, I asked my parents to let me become emancipated. I didn't intend to marry him right then, I just wanted, needed, some kind of space. I wasn't raised to live with someone out of wedlock, but it would provide a means of survival, I was past caring what people, including my family, thought about me. When they turned me down, I planned a wedding date two weeks after my high school graduation. I turned down being the hometown rodeo queen and concentrated on the freedom that I could almost taste.

Brandi wondered what all this has to do with why I chose to homeschool. To me, it has everything to do with why I homeschool. I came a hair's breath away from screwing up my life beyond all recognition. I didn't love my highschool sweetheart. I loved that he loved me. It took all of 18 months after I graduated and got married to figure out that I could love myself and was worthy of a more suitable mate. I was married, divorced and remarried by the time I turned 21. When I remarried, it was to a man 18 years older than I who had three kids. It was sheer dumb luck and the love of God that I got an incredible husband who really did see through all the crazy, weird behavior, took a gamble on whether or not I'd grow into a decent wife, and gently began the process of helping me understand and gain self worth. My parents and grandparents did everything they could, but they couldn't overcome the feelings of shame, hopelessness and self-loathing that were planted there by my peers.

Academics played a big roll in my desire to homeschool, I figured I certainly couldn't do worse than the two room school house, and if I paid close attention to their individual needs, I could probably do a darn sight better. Socialization played a big roll as well. Socialization is one of the biggest concerns people seem to have about homeschooling, and quite honestly, it's probably the biggest reason I got passionate about it. I want to pick my kids' friends for a while. I want to make sure they look up to people worthy of their respect. I want to help them navigate their social interactions until they have a better idea of who they are and what they believe. I want them to be able to focus on school work while they mature socially, whether that pace is slower or faster than other children their age. I don't want their self worth tied up in whether or not they get picked for dodgeball, or who sits next to them at lunch. When I had my kids, I knew I could never send them to daycare. There wasn't anyone in this world who could love them more or nurture them better than I could. When it came time for school, I knew that nothing had changed. No one cares about their education and their socialization more than I do. When I first brought it up with Hubster, he wasn't completely on board, but he wasn't sold on the alternatives either. Finally, the more we talked and prayed and researched it, we knew it was what we were supposed to do.

I have found myself scared to death that I will screw this up. I worry that my kids will be "the weird kids". The first year, I worried over my ability to teach them what they need to know. But the farther along this path we go, the more success we have under our belt and the more confidence we gain to keep going. So far, both kids have learned to read and write, do addition and subtraction, read time, count money, measure things, and they have the bug, the itch to learn more. They hate it when history time is over and they often don't even realize I'm giving them a science lesson. They just like spending time with mom and dad and playing together. We're starting 1st and 2nd grades this year. They play well with other kids, in the neighborhood, at church, at community sponsored sporting events, and at homeschool functions. We don't plan on homeschooling through high school, but even that depends on what we feel is right at the time. I have struggles with dyscalculia, and the thought of teaching them higher math makes me extremely uneasy. But if that is what needs to be done, I will find a way.

The bottom line is that deeply personal events brought me to my knees to figure out what I could do better for my kids. We've heard differing opinions on whether we should or should not homeschool our kids, but it finally came down to Hubster and I feeling like this is what we are supposed to be doing, and then doing our best to do a good job of it. I can only hope my kids will have a much better experience than I did, and I feel more and more confident that my choice to shield them from the world will help them with the things that matter most. My job is to protect them as long as I reasonably can and do everything in my power to help them set and realize their goals and dreams.

And believe it or not, that's the short version! LOL

Why Homeschool. Part One.

Chris from Notes From the Trenches has started another blog over here, and I'm not sure why she has two, but I do know I can't get enough Chris. Today she talked some about her homeschool, which I was so glad to read since, even after stalking all her old posts until her site meter flagged me as a potential serial killer, I haven't seen much about how she does things, why she chose homeschooling, what a homeschool day is like in the Big Yellow House. Hmmm. Maybe she'd give me an interview! LOL Anyhow, after I visited Kacey's blog and read about her grandson, I got to thinking I really should put down on "paper" why I picked homeschooling. My kids may someday want to know why I turned them into social lepers chose to school them at home.

Just so everyone is clear right up front; To each their own. Whatever school you dig is dandy with me. The main thing I've noticed is that people usually have a strong opinion about homeschooling, and that's cool, but if you can't be supportive, you can keep it to yourself around this neck of the woods. I'm not trying to convince people that public schools are evil or tell people they aren't being great parents if they don't homeschool, I'm just going to tell you how I, (we, really) feel and felt to make this choice for our family.

I didn't decide to homeschool on a whim. The thought never even crossed my mind until we moved to the great state of TX. The older three have done fine with public schools and I've done my share of parent teacher conferences, wrapping paper fundraising and crazy back to school supply lists. When we moved to TX, our kids did notice that the classes seemed easier, but they didn't complain and life went on. When we moved here, we also started to hear about more and more homeschooling families. Droves of them. Back home, if you were homeschooled, you were a freaky-folk. But I had to admit that the more I thought about sending my cute little kiddos off on that big yellow bus, I thought more and more about my own school experience and I started to think that there had to be a better alternative. So settle in and I'll tell you my tale. I'll start my story by taking you down the path of my education.

School started for me at a young age, I must have been three or four, because I attended two years at a religious pre-school. The thing I remember most about pre-school was graham crackers with milk, the smell of my nap rug and how being around the nuns made me feel like I had swallowed my tongue. I remember being picked up from school when it was dark outside and how I loved to memorize the streets from school to Grandma G's, the bank, the store and home.

I went on to Kindergarten, and I remember the day I decided to learn to read. I was watching Ripley's believe it or Not or some similar show and they showed a child who was four and could read. I was sick about it. I was already past four, and I couldn't read. So I bugged my mom. She says she wouldn't teach me because she didn't want me to be too far ahead of my class. I remember reading signs to her on the way to and from school. Grandma says she thought Mom was talking crazy talk, but I remember her giving me the Dick and Jane book, reading a few pages with me and going into the other room. Within a few hours, I had made it through, and from that day on, I could read. And read I did. I was voracious right from the start.

We moved before I started first grade, and the first day of school, I boarded the little yellow bus bound for the two room school house that served our ranch community. It started the moment I boarded the bus. There were two boys who were in fifth and sixth grade. They called me ski jump, owing to the upturned, button nose that sits in the middle of my face. I couldn't stand it. I had no idea why they would treat me like that, and I remember wishing I was invisible. At school, my class was the largest. There were four first graders, and they were all girls. I don't even remember if there were second graders in our class room, I think there were, and the third to sixth grades were taught in the second classroom.

My teacher was outstanding, one of the best in the district. Tests were taken each year, and I know mom told me that she was given the option of moving me up a grade, but declined because she was worried that I'd miss something I'd need later. The only difference I noticed in the class room was that I sometimes got extra work, and I ALWAYS got poor marks in behavior. Those little boxes at the bottom that graded area's like, "Uses Time Wisely", "Works Well With Others" and "Controls Talking" could be marked for area's worthy of special note were filled with the "Needs Improvement" check mark every.single.time. Grades given were E or E+, S or S+ and U. E=Excellent, S=Satisfactory, and U...well, you get the idea. I thought I deserved an E on everything. I did what I was supposed to, and I was always done first. School for me was like being reminded of things I already knew.

But as much as I excelled in the classroom, I paid for it on the playground. Remember that this is a country school. It doesn't take as long to teach when the teacher to student ratio is 1:6. These were the days of school recess. The teachers talked, the kids played, and the bullies reigned supreme. In this day and age the schools employ "Playground Monitors", but not so at the two room school house. I don't think I made it out of the first week of school when the three girls in my class held my arms back and used my stomach as a punching bag. It's not that it hurt so much, as I just couldn't believe what was happening. I don't remember when, or even who I told, but I remember my mom trying to teach me to hit pillows in hopes I could defend myself, and any other times I complained, it was explained to me that I acted like a know-it-all and that's why the other kids picked on me. Now to be fair to all parties involved, I probably was a know-it-all. After all, I pretty much did, know.it.all. At least where first to third grade was concerned. I probably was a brat, and I had no idea how to be liked, and really, in the scheme of things, that was all I wanted, to be liked. Well, to be liked and be the best, at everything.

Despite the social problems, I had an amazing grade school experience that included afternoons peering over the bridge at the river while we ate our picnic lunches, building snow caves and spending endless hours sledding down snow covered hills, school sponsored weekly ski trips (I ALWAYS ditched ski school after the second year...Sorry dad!) even a real Indian Rendevoux where we got to bead our own moccasins, make coup sticks and sleep in two real, full size, tee pee's. We climbed the rope everyday during our "unofficial PE", and used the mats to make mazes during recess. We had mud bomb wars and got our library books brought to us on the BookMobile. Our PE and Music teachers came once a week, and since I could memorize anything, I was always given the lead role in the school play. The good parts were very, very good. Unfortunately, the bad parts grew worse and worse with the passage of time, and my self-esteem was tossed like a dingy on the sea. Up with one kind word or success, down with every playground snub and awkward moment.

I couldn't tell you for sure when things came completely undone, but I know everyone around me recognized it when I yelled at the music teacher and crawled under my chair. I scared myself that day. I never had an easy time dealing with authority. I couldn't give words to the feelings I felt, so I got frustrated and cried, or lied, but I had never yelled. My reading was tested and it was "discovered" that I could read and comprehend high school level material. I was tutored for reading in the room with the older kids, but my parents knew they had to make big changes. At the prompting of a family friend, they enrolled me in the Lab School at the University and I began attending there in the fifth grade.

Wiring 101 1/2

So I installed a new light fixture in my kitchen today! I have to admit, I didn't accomplish this feat all by myself this time. Due to some, shall we say, CREATIVE wiring in this house, I had to call on a friend from church with a little more experience than I have. Wiring a three way switch is actually a pretty advanced electrical task. Not hard, per say, but it requires more thought than, "black to black, white to white and ground to ground". The problem came about because some genius decided to provide power to the dishwasher through the light fixture. No WONDER the light flickers when you turn on the dishwasher. Hmmmmm. So with the help of Handyman Bob, we finally got the light to work, and turn on and off at the flick of a switch, (and not the breaker switch in the garage, like I had it before Handyman Bob came to my rescue), and the dishwasher to run and NOT turn on and off with the flick of a switch. All this and we didn't burn the house down or electrocute anyone! And the biggest award of the day has to go to Handyman Bob's wife, who somehow convinced J that drawing bunny rabbits was more fun than cheating death at the top of mommy's ladder.

Also, since I'm sure I didn't mention it, B and Hubster are on a four wheeling adventure with Grandpa and my perfect BIL so K and J and I are on our own doing girl stuff and trying to keep our minds off missing our boys. We went to the mall yesterday, and today, we bought a car and went swimming. Can't afford very many days like that, can we Hubster? Prolly ought to come home pretty soon! LOL Hubster and I have been needing to buy a car for his commute and he TOLD me to go drive the one I found and get them to hold it. So I bought it. What? It's the only way I could get him to hold it.

I seriously hope this turns out to be a good car, if not, I am SO never hearing the end of it. It's a 1996 Nissan Maxima, it has 122,000 miles on it and it drove better than the 98 I found with 74,000 miles on it. You know how sometimes you can just tell a car is a good car? Well. I can tell. Hubster is being very nice about it. He started to either tease me or get mad, but, sensing that I've been a woman on the edge for a looooong time, he told me he was sure the car would work out. I so needed to hear that. I don't feel like I squeezed every dime I should have out of the salesman. Going over how that went down makes me want to breath into a paper bag. I hate, hate, hate car shopping. Funny. Seeing as how I SOLD cars for four years, you wouldn't think that it would bother me at all.

And finally, I heard from dad that my mom's dog died today. I felt bad she didn't tell me when I called to get dad's cell number to ask his advice on the wiring project, so I hope she reads the bloggy tonight and feels a little better reading my goofy stories and seeing pics of her beautiful grand daughters. *Hug* Sorry about Suki, Mom.

Mom of All Trades Blasts Off

Over at To Love, Honor and Dismay, there is a post just like what I've been thinking about on my Blog Draft page thingy, only, his is well written and organized rather than all, ranty and rambling. Honestly, the process of raising teenagers and their leaving home is as profoundly changing as becoming a mother in the first place.

What sent me into outer orbit was the second poster's comment regarding their teen and pre-teen dating at ages 12 and 13. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? I'm further astounded by the comment "...but what can you do? You gotta let'em grow up". For starters, you can tell them NO.

Whatever happened to parental responsibility? Are people so blind that they think they can raise healthy, well adjusted human beings by giving them everything they want? In what warped reality are pre-teens able to handle the pressures of dating when older teenagers and adults barely manage to get out alive?

Most people who read my blog know that I belong to the very conservative Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. It's not for everyone, and I'm cool with that, but I do think that all parents would be well served to consider postponing dating privileges until children are better equipped to handle the responsibility. For those who may not know, the Church guidelines for dating are as follows: "“When you get in the teen-age years, your social associations should still be general acquaintance with both boys and girls. Any dating or pairing off in social contacts should be postponed until at least the age of 16 or older, and even then there should be much judgment used."
A Time for Every Purpose
Paul H. Dunn, " Time for Every Purpose," Ensign, May 1975, 61.

Now, I wasn't raised with this faith, but my parents used the "No dating until 16" rule while I was growing up. Did I like it? Sadly, no, I did not. Do I see the wisdom in that rule now? Absolutely.

I think the thing that incenses me the most about this person's comments is the fact that they aren't alone and the fact that there are plenty o' parents out there who think that early and pre-teen dating is perfectly acceptable. Is it any wonder that we still have teenagers getting pregnant? Dating moves forward, not backward, folks. Once you get over the thrill of holding hands with a boy, the next logical thrill is kissing, then on to making out, and once you've started, you don't go back to hand holding. These things have a natural time-line, once your passions wake up, you are on the countdown to the big payoff. Who in their right mind would let their kid start down that road at such a tender age?

The commenter concedes that "its scary as heck"; I should say so, and I don't think they even know the half of it. Around age 14 or 15, I overheard a conversation between two boys who's sole goal at the time was to lose their virginity before they turned 12. Even then, I was shocked. I was even more shocked when I heard that the boy must've come close to realizing his goal; his girlfriend had his baby when they were 13. That girl never even saw it coming. That boy was going to obtain his goal, and neither one of them were anywhere close to being able to handle what they'd done. These were kids from good families, who's parents did everything they could to provide their kids with all the things they never had. I'll bet anything those parents were "scared as heck" too.


If we don't teach our kids that there is a proper order to life, and we encourage them to be "mini adults" at earlier and earlier ages, we are surely setting our kids up for a lifetime of heartache. I'd much rather have my kids hate me for a few years because I took the time and effort to enforce boundaries to keep them safe, than for them to spend a miserable life wishing that I had not been such a good friend when they needed me to be a parent. Some kids are easier to get along with on stuff like this than others, but if parents everywhere were more on the same page, I feel like it would make EVERYONE's job a whole lot easier.

Parent's allowing dating at 12 and 13. What is this world coming to?

Hair

Sometimes, it's fun to be the fun mom.

B: "Mom, can I cut my hair?"
Me: "Sure, son!"
B: "Can you get me some scissors?"
Me: "I'll do better than that! How about my clippers?!"
B: "Cool!"


(Isn't K cute, peeking out from the mirror?)






Not to, um....horrible! LOL

Yes, I did go back and fix it all, and I suppose putting the clipper attachment on there to prevent the worst of the damage *is* technically cheating, but, he's none the wiser.



And here's a little shot of the after church hair we have going on over here. The pigtails are pointless, and silly looking, but the after church hair is soooooo worth it! ;O)

Needs

So all my much cooler bloggy friends are doing the thing where you google your name to find out what you need, so here I am, following along and posting my top ten:

Jennifer needs a smack daddy. Me thinks daddy is the one who needs a smack right now...

Jennifer needs heavy visual depiction of her subject. The better to ensure that the rock I'm about to throw, finds it's mark.

Jennifer needs a cold shower. Yes, but not for traditional reasons of one needing a cold shower.

Jennifer needs Your Help. Yes, that goes without saying.

Jennifer needs to post. I'm on it.

Jennifer needs to slap Abby. If I could find her, I just might do that.

Jennifer needs to be in a mental health facility right now. There might be some truth in that...

Jennifer needs flatware. Oooooh, have I ever told you about my flatware addiction? No? Ohhhhhh. How much time have you got?

Jennifer needs to do five things. Only five?! Holy Cow! I wish someone would have told me this sooner!

Jennifer needs to be a (not very nice female person). I'll make sure and tell Hubster I'm only being that way because Google said so.

What's Weird

Know what's weird around here today? I'll tell you.

We've been "budget conscious" for so long, I feel guilty for window shopping.

After a night of horrendous pain following self-inflicted toe nail surgery, my toe hurts less now than it did before. I thought I'd have to suffer at least a couple days.

Multi colored mini marshmallows will stain upholstery when chewed up and spit out.

My SD, D, likes me, BECAUSE I don't let her do everything she wants. What's weirder, is that she TOLD me that.

If you walk into the edge of a door in the middle of the night, you can't keep your tongue off the fat lip it gives you.

Chickens that produce so many eggs you have to give them away, will immediately stop laying eggs the minute you go on a diet that uses a lot of eggs.

The time the trash men come is directly relative to your ability to remember to take the trash to the curb. If you forget, they'll be there bright and early. If you remember, they won't show until after 6 pm.

The mail carrier works on the same laws as the trash men.

The more you hate a movie or cartoon, the more your kids like it.


That's all I have for now. Check out my new little award over in my sidebar! Thanks Mary! Even though it turns out I'm not as interesting as you originally thought, I appreciate the kudos!

It *IS* Sandal Season, After All...

My toenail is ingrown. Horribly, horribly ingrown, sore, and generally yucky. Attempted remedies could make up a blog all on their own. But after I applied my waterproof NexCare bandage, I found that I just couldn't leave well enough alone. Bloggable? Yes? No? *shrug* I think this may be a new all time low in the history of blogging.

To The Nice Man At Lowes

Thank you so much for taking the time to discuss my woefully inadequate kitchen light fixture and explaining the process of installing recessed lighting. I'm leaning toward your original suggestion of installing a larger florescent fixture. Now, let me give you a little piece of advice: Yes, we bonded over light fixtures, yes, I know, it *is* exciting to talk to a girl who knows her way around a two way switch, but the "little one" isn't due, ever, ever again, and you are the worlds biggest %$#@@%#$^ for suggesting it. You made me cry, and as a result, my hubster now has snot on his shirt. Which I must now go wash. If we learn nothing from this blog, people, learn this: Never, Ever, EVER ask someone when she is due or anything resembling that question unless you already know the answer.

Thursday Thoughts

I've been working hard on regaining some semblence of my pre-babies body. I started with weights and lots and lots and lots of ab work. I'm making some progress, two steps forward, one bowl of ice cream back, but I digress.

Lately, I've been using DVR to record Fit TV workouts (since my pilates dvd went missing). I found All Star Workout and I've liked that there is something new everyday, but I do find some workout's are better than others. Take the Belly Dancing one from today. Things started out, well, OK, since there's no way I can roll my belly and have it look like anything other than a big roll of pasty white jello, I skipped that part. So we moved on to hip drops. OK. I've been known to shake a little booty in my day. After the instructor showed us the booty shake, she showed us a step sequence called, the "grapevine", I only fell once, so it was cool. Then we had to shake the booty AND do the grapevine. Since hubster is working out of town today, I decided against personal injury and skipped that part. She moved on to some hip circles and something called the "egyptian", and I watched. Somewhere between the "basic" and the final hip roll, I found myself lounging on the couch with a perplexed look on my face and I decided that maybe belly dancing wasn't a viable option for me as a workout program.

K has been sounding like she's 6 going on 16 lately.

Me: 6+4 eqaaaaallllssss?
K: 10! It's 10! B, hush up, I know, cuz I used ALL MY FINGERS!

****

B: I didn't save my money for Sonic! I want to buy a game!
K: I'm not spending *MY* money, that's mostly mine for a GAME. I.am.not.gonna.do.it.

(Wonder where she learned to talk like that?)
****

And now we're off to spend the rest of the afternoon at my friend's pool. Yeahy for friends with pools during 105 degree days!

Love and Hate at the Local Library

Love- Row after row of books.
Hate- Grumpy Librarians. You'd think they'd at least like kids a *little bit*, but no.

Love- That you can take home as many as your heart desires.
Hate- When the kids beg to take home Sponge Bob Squarepants videos instead of something...I don't know...book-ish.

Love- Browsing the covers of books for hours.
Hate- Hearing the shrieking of my two year old as she protests her stroller confinement.
Hate Even More- Hearing the shrieking of my seven year old because my two year old BIT him whilst he attempted to school her on Library etiquette. You know, basics, like, don't run, don't scream and don't tear all the books off the shelves and throw them at other patrons.

Love- Picking out new adventure filled pages to introduce my children to the world of literature.
Hate- Computers on child size tables, in the picture book section...

Love- Summer Reading Club.
Love Even More- All the cool stuff we got for DOING Summer Reading Club.

Hate- That our Library doesn't put a sticker with the due date on the books anymore...They give you a list.
Hate Even More- That they still have to put a sticker in the book over the theft protection device. This sticker serves no purpose other than tempting little fingers to peel it off, meaning that not a week goes by that we don't announce our entry to the library by setting off the alarm. At least print the due date on the damn thing so when I notice it, stuck to the bottom of my foot, as I sit on the toilet, I have some idea of whether the books need to go back this week or next.

Love- Having a place to let the children run wild quietly entertain themselves during 100+ degree weather.
Hate- Having to leave the books I look at on the end of the row to be *counted* instead of putting them right back where I found them.
Love- That, for once, someone else has to pick up all the books my kids get out.

Hate-Leaving.
Love- That we get to do it all over again next week.

Pink Drink

What Texas lacks in the cherry department, it's made up for with an abundance of watermelons. I'm pretty sure there's a name for this, it's a recipe with Mexican origin, I believe. We love it because it's so fruity and refreshing on a sweltering summer night.

Watermelon, only use seedless. Cube it up and chuck it in the blender, fill almost full. Add enough cold water to fill blender halfway. Add about 1/2 cup of sugar, more or less according to taste, then cram ice cubes in the blender until you can barely get the lid on. Hold the lid on tight and pulverize the whole thing for about 30 seconds.

Make more.

And then make some more.

And if you have a larger than average family, just keep making until you run out of watermelons.

Enjoy!

Discussing My Addiction

Gabriela pointed out this weekend that I might be a little bit addicted to the internet. While discussing with Hubster what we want to do when D graduates from HS, the thought of sending my husband to medical school in Belize came up. My first thought was: "I can live anywhere as long as they have a good, fast internet connection." Not, "I wonder if they have good schools and decent sanitation", nope, I'm worried about my download/upload speed. Go ahead and laugh if you want Gabs, but considering everything I've done on-line already this morning, a world without internet would mean some serious withdrawls for me. Here's what I do "in front of the computer all day":

Check bank balance
Pay bills
Locate at least three phone numbers for Hubster
Check the cattle prices
Register for Hubster's seminar
Check Library to see if my book is in yet
check Little League site for fall registration
Add homeschool books to my shopping carts (gotta order those soon)
check cell phone account for usage estimate
get CLEP test dates and costs
And of course, I've checked my email which is how D got me a picture of her new duvet cover for her room
and now Blogger.

And yes, Blogger is a huge time sink. Instead of tidying up the breakfast, OK, make that the weekend dishes (including the dishes from last night's peach ice cream-making-session), I am writing to you now. I have errands to run, a yard to attend, chickens to feed, children to teach, a shower to take, a house to clean and meals to cook, and still I type. And then I check my bloggy girlfriends' sites. And then I comment. And then I check back later to see if there are more comments, or a new post. If I didn't have the excuse that this is my journal, I'd have to feel pretty guilty about blogging!

But just think of all that time I saved paying bills, looking things up, buying things and signing up for things on line! That has to be the counter balance, right?! That's what I'm telling Hubster. He'll understand why the house is trashed, the laundry isn't done, and dinner came out of a can, right? At least I don't have a suitcase full of shoes to explain, like SOME people we know! LOL

On The Fence

I wonder what she's dreaming...

The Burning Question on My MInd

I really ought to start taking my camera to the grocery store. My blog would be much more interesting that way. Did you KNOW that Oscar Meyer puts out hot dogs that are individually wrapped (in the box) that are already in BUNS? They call them some thing like, "Easy Dogs". Has any one seen these? Or is it just Texans that are too lazy to heat AND assemble a hot dog? For heaven's sake, J can almost accomplish this task on her own, and she's not even two yet! In fact, I went to their website to obtain a picture of this product just to show you, and there ISN'T ONE! I am laughing, laughing, laughing about the fact that they have this "new" product and there is no mention of it anywhere on their website! They are dumb enough to *make* such a product, but not silly enough to let anyone know that they do. That's just one of those things that makes me go "Hmmmmmmm."

(Remember that song?)

During my outing, I also made a couple observations.

I don't think I will ever master the art of the messy ponytail. There was a very pretty brunette girl at the store who had on hip, cute, clothes, and a perfectly shaped messy ponytail. You've seen them, they have the "tail" part right in the middle of their heads, and the top is artfully arranged so it looks like it's ALMOST about to fall out, and yet, never does. It kind of looks...square...almost. I've seen the look before on my nieces, and they look absolutely fabulous. I try it, and I look like Ashlee Simpson after she went through the car wash in a convertible.

Blondes with big fake boobs, big, badly colored hair do's attract enough attention without ignoring their advanced age and wearing belly shirts. Unfortunatly, this fact is lost on many of them. One woman closely resembling the above remark, was flirting with one of the bagger boys. He looked more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Poor kid couldn't get rid of her fast enough.

I do love to watch people.

But after all my self commentated people watching, I exited the store and caught a glimpse of myself in the glass. I'm telling you, someone REALLY ought to lock up all my husbands oversized t-shirts and gym shorts, make me put on a little makeup once in a while and paint my toenails. And a shower couldn't hurt. If I saw myself in the store like that, I'd be telling myself, "Self, that poor woman needs to get.a.grip. Man, has she looked in a mirror lately? What on earth possessed her to think that get up was acceptable for schlepping around town?"

In my defense I did not have on pajama bottoms and slippers. Which means that at least once or twice, I have looked worse.

Why are comfortable, cotton, loose fitting articles of clothing so good at making us look so bad?

Refiner's Fire

I received this as an e-mail a couple of years back, and due to the circumstances in life as I know it in the past couple years, I've referred to it often. It makes me bawl like a baby whenever I read it, so, you're on your own for further discussion. Big cyber hug to all my girlies and blog readin' fam.

There was a group of women in a Bible study on the book of Malachi. As they were studying chapter three, they came across verse three which says: "He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver." (Malachi 3:3) This verse puzzled the women and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God.

One of the women offered to find out about the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible study. That week this woman called up a silver smith and made an appointment to watch him at work. She didn't mention anything about the reason for her interest in silver beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver. As she watched the silver smith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities. The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot--then she thought again about the verse, that he sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.

She asked the silver smith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire. If the silver was left even a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silver smith, "How do you know when the silver is fully refined?"

He smiled at her and answered, "Oh, that's easy--when I see my image in it."

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you.

Why We Will Not be Potty Training Any Time Soon:

"Hey J! Wanna put on a Pull Up Today?"




"Um...J?..."



"This is not going exactly as I had planned..."



"I'm a big kid now!"



I give up.

Calling All T Family Members!

Guess what usually costs $6 per pound and was on sale today for $1.49 per pound?


Yup!

For all my bloggy friends, my Grandma G used to can cherries and they were *THE* after dinner treat when you went to Grandma G's house to spend the night. My Dad ate more than his fair share of these babies while growing up! It's really very simple, just cherries in some light syrup, but oh, so good! All you Utah girls probably have at least one neighbor with a nice big tree full in the back yard, but down here, cherries are hard to come by and usually very expensive. I've never seen this good a price in the whole time we've been here! My Grandma G was kind enough to write out her method for me, she says "41-42# yields about 30 quarts". Talk about needing a loan! So I did my measly 10# tonight and I'll treasure every bite in my 5 quarts thank-you-very-much!










Yum! Now let's get down to business. Boiling the jars:




Jars with clean, de-stemmed cherries, waiting for syrup:



Water bath:



Finished jars! Eeek! Hard water, wipe those jars off with a little vinegar to clear the spots!

Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing

If any of you would like to join me for a bowl of cherries, I have extra beds, but as you can see, there are only 5 quarts, you'll need to hurry and make your reservation today!

You Scream, I Scream....

WE ALL SCREAM FOR ICE CREAM!!!!!

Yes. This is now a blog about ice cream. And duck poop. And nasty neighbors. And why in the devil am I NUMBER ONE on Google for the search: "Moms drugging pacifier"? Who Googles for *that*? Where was I going with this?.....

Oh yes.

Ice Cream.

I am coming up for air from my delectable dish of homemade, 12 whole ounces of chocolate, chocolate ice cream. Yes. It is THAT good. I would post a picture, but somehow, I'm guessing that a full grown woman with her face covered in chocolate is not cute, like it is when it's your kid, but probably borders on the somewhat pathetic. But I will assure you it is wonderful. So is the Old Fashion, cooked-on-the-stove, vanilla ice cream I ate before the chocolate. And in between dishes, the Strawberry Sorbet is wonderful for cleansing the palate.

I need to step AWAY from the ice cream maker. I'm hoping Hubster comes home soon to put a stop to all this insanity. For some reason, I felt compelled to spend half of this weeks' milk budget on cream. Good thing that stuff keeps forever. I really need to stop with the ice cream already. I'm pretty sure that they don't include enough extra fabric in bridesmaids' dresses to go up a size or two, so staying the same size or smaller in the next three months is probably a good idea.

In other news, it sounds as if the oldest has really "launched". He's been working his first real manual labor job along side his brother in the oil fields of WY and is now the richest young adult on earth. I'm going to call him for a "fresh cream" loan. So far, he's still planning on coming back to college in the fall, but told us he plans on rooming with a buddy. As in, NOT IN MY HOUSE, rooming with a buddy. Is it wrong for a mother to view her child's room as unclaimed real estate? With the three smallest children stacked into ONE bedroom, I've been rethinking this rooming arrangement since we moved in. The house is a three bedroom house, but, the large dining room has regular doorways with doors in all the openings. We decided M should have that room since it is the farthest away from my room. Even two years away could not make me forget the child's' obsession with music. Music played at all hours of the day and night. Music that goes thump thump thump. Where was I going with this?...

Oh yes.

Large area's of unclaimed real estate.

So I wasted very little time moving D's things into the newly vacated real estate. I even hung her posters. Does anyone else find teen idols disturbing? All I can think of is my own teenage boys. Great looking, wonderful kids to be sure, but A. They smell, B. They sweat, C. They sneak out, D. They wreck your cars, E. They start telling girls they only just met that they "love them"...where was I going with this?...

Oh yes.

So B has his own room for the first time since he was 17 months old.

Given the fact that J and K fight like there's no tomorrow, and J thinks B hung the moon, it really would make more sense that he have the baby in his room. But the idea of being able to decorate a BOYS ROOM and a GIRLS ROOM is far, far too great a temptation for me to pass up. Given the fact that Hubster is the Supreme Hunting Man of all time, I have been leaning toward Cammo as the theme for B's new room. He wanted dinosaurs. You have to have cammo to hunt dinosaurs...right? Cammo=Free Decorating, Dinosaurs=Not Free Decorating. Given my latest addiction, it's gonna be cammo, at least until that wonderful tan microsuede comforter goes on sale.

And the girl's room?

I wish I could say that this bed was going to be the centerpiece of their fabulous new room, but, given the fact that even if I could afford that bed, I wouldn't be able to bring myself to spend that kind of money on a bed, I'm thinking a new paint job on the bunk beds and some tulle is going to be the basis of the new design. K has a beautiful pink satin bedspread she got for her last birthday, so I will be picking something fun, and probably purple, for J. My problem is that I have a love/hate relationship with the bunk beds.

They are great for saving space. They are horrible for kissing little sleeping children. I'm going to have to keep thinking on this one. Where was I going with this?...

Oh yes.

I'm going into the kitchen for another bowl of ice cream.

My Splurge!

Ohhhhh! I am the luckiest girl in the whole world today!

When I was growing up on the ranch, we kept milk cows. Milk cows mean lots of fresh cream. And one of the more delicious ways to use up cream is in homemade ice cream. The problem with making ice cream now, is that at $3.57 for two cups, it gets expensive in a hurry. Back then, the cream was free. But we still didn't make ice cream very often. The reason? Ice. Ice had to be bought in town and was always at a premium. I remember making ice cream in the middle of the winter with my grandpa using ice we'd chopped out of the river, and cream grandma had frozen from the summer months. When grandma decided her ice cream making days were over, she gave me her old ice cream maker, and it burned up the first time we used it. *phooey*

I know better than going to stores...any stores...when I'm on the shoestring budget. I know this. I really do. But Tar-gee was calling my name. I only went to check out the clearance bedding items for some idea's for D's bed spread, since she's getting the queen size bed, it stands to reason that she needs a new comforter...right? I was only gonna LOOOOOOOK.

And then....I saw *it*.

I've been seeing those little 2 quart ice cream makers at Wally Mart this summer...$16. And I have to admit, I've been tempted. But today, sitting there on an end-cap, (darn that sly marketing) was a Hamilton Beach, 4 quart, Ice Cream making MACHINE. $29.99. *sigh* Not today. But WAIT! Do my eyes deceive me? On special for $17.88, and today is the.last.day. "SOLD!!!", I said!




Now I just have to run to the store for some ice. And some cream. And some salt.
*sigh*

Oh well...I'm having homemade ice cream TONIGHT, baby!

J to English Dictionary

Hip Hip Hooray! She'snotamute. We were starting to wonder. The first two children spoke clearly enough to be understood on the telephone around 15 months. Full sentences were well underway by 18 months and by two years of age, we couldn't get them to shut up. J has been content to scream and whine until someone figures out what she wants. This has been the source of endless frusteration and hairpulling on my part. But in the last two weeks she's started expressing herself with words, even though she usually requires me to interpret for others, I'm not worried, since this seems to be a common thing for most families.

'TOP!: Stop. Usually in reference to something being done to her by one of her siblings.

'Nonny: Naughty. Usually said in conjunction with something she shouldn't be doing and accompanied by a sadistic grin and eyelashes batted at full speed.

'EP MEEEEE!: Help me. Anytime she needs assistance. And at the pool. As I carry her screaming from the pool to the locker room before she shrivels up into the size of a raisin.

itty itty itty: Kitty. As in, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty. Pay no attention to the large, heavy object I'm carrying..."

Me: Used in conjunction with everything in sight at any given time. Usually accompanied by a look that clearly says "I am the queen of the world, so stand down earthling!"

'eeeee: Please. Sounds suspiciously like me, but Hubster says it's please. He's hoping she's not the terror she sounds like.

NO!: You know the thing about the pool? Yeah. This goes in there too. I'm here to tell you that the pronunciation of this word was practiced non-stop over a 30 minute period.

I fwop!: "The green beans and milk I ate for dinner are in my hair. I have stared into the eyes of death, and I have lived to tell about it. Now give me a bath and wash everything within a 12 foot radius of my body."

She also has consistent gibberish sounds she uses for blanket, thank you, excuse me, where's K/B and outside. I'd love to type these out, but they come out of the nose...mostly. It's more of a voice intonation thing.

But the monkey dance and the frequent bottom-lip-only-kisses she's been giving out are by far the two most endearing tricks she's learned. The monkey dance involves rocking side to side, the whole foot coming off the ground and waving the arms above the head while wiggling the hips and body. Clapping and jumping both feet off the floor are also a big part of the monkey dance. And there doesn't have to be much to inspire a monkey dance. Monkey dancing is even funnier than dancing to the Llama Llama song for 30 minutes at a stretch. Even when there is no monkey dancing, you should watch for monkey walking. Walking with stiff legs and bobbing your head side to side like a drunken little midget is fun don'tcha'know?

Is it any wonder I've neglected my blog over the last couple weeks?! LOL

As the Neighborhood Turns....Part two

Yes, I think I'm going to make this blog into a little drama series about my craptastic neighbors.

I came home today to a bright yellow notice on my door. Yup. My friendly police department just dropping me a little love note to the effect that the neighbors are griping again and if I could park on the lawn it would be so much better.

I took action.

Just to clarify, I restrained myself from all shoe polish use, and talked hubby into parking the long trailer tight up next to the garage. We only left the Bronco, which had the utility trailer attached, parked on the street.

So I just couldn't stand it anymore, and I went door to door. "Yes, hi, I'm your neighborhood red neck, and someone has been complaining about our trailers, I was hoping to find out who so we could maybe come to an understanding?" I didn't get too far into my quest before I ran into someone brave enough to own up to their actions. At first, she was a little defensive about having called the police, she claims to have been asked by two other neighbors to complain on their behalf, get this, they told her they didn't have time to call themselves. I politely gave her the rundown on the fact that the car was legally parked and the only reason it was parked on the street was because of the complaint that it was in the yard last week. I let her know that her "friends" who "didn't have time to call" had actually put quite a bit of time and effort into the whole thing and told her about the certified letter. She seemed genuinely shocked and said she felt really bad for calling today, especially when I pointed out that if people keep complaining about us parking them on the yard, we'll have no choice but to leave them parked on the street permanently. We ended up having a really nice conversation and she pointed me in the direction of the lady most likely to have been the instigator of the failure to maintain premises complaint, and I'm pretty sure she'll explain the situation to the other neighbor she claims asked her to complain. So I guess I'll be paying a visit to the lonely little old lady at the end of our street who has L.O.T.S. of extra time on her hands. I rang twice tonight, and even though the light was on, she didn't answer the door. I'm not sure it will do much good, but, it can't hurt to try.

I should really get a picture of what I'm talking about so you all can see I'm not crazy and we really do keep the place up.

Love Thy Neighbor

Or not. *sigh*

Just in case you all missed it, the world fell off it's axis last Friday. Our three cows, who were no doubt coerced by our mule, escaped from their comfy pasture and were roaming the dead end country road in Small Town, Texas. Somehow, the neighbors living up and down the street must've not noticed our animals living there for the past three years, since no one knew where they were supposed to be. Oh, they knew the name of the owners, and apparantly, my phone number as well, since the friendly Sherriff's Department called and left no fewer than 5 messages informing us that the animals had escaped, and judging by the breathlessness of those messages, were running wild up and down the northern part of Texas. Sherriff-ing must not pay what it used to, or we must have one b-o-r-i-n-g little town. I'm no genius, but it seems to me that the easiest way to solve the problem would have been to open the gate to their pasture and let them back in. A little grain + an open gate= animal's happy to follow you to the ends of the earth. Instead, our friendly Sherriff's department, (which, by the way, has it's own "Posse", we are in Texas, remember) decided that it would be much easier to put the animals into a trailer and take them "downtown".

*Snort* Anyone who's herded cattle is probably laughing right along with me at this point....None the less, they did succeed in catching the mule and dragged him off to mule jail, but after much huffing and puffing on the part of our friendly sherriff's department, they were unable to capture the cows, and instead ran them off into...well, the vast wilderness of the rural country neighborhood, I suppose. Upon returning home from a three day stint housesitting for my perfect BIL, we discovered this sorry state of affairs and spent Friday evening rounding up our smart cows who escaped the evil clutches of the law, and most of Saturday bailing our stupid mule out of mule jail, and fixing the fence so that they couldn't put on a repeat performance.

But that is not all! Oh no! That is not all!

There was another message from our landlord, a kind man whom we've been happy to rent from, telling us that he had received a certified letter from the City of Small Town. In my experience, that's never a good thing. So during the great cattle round up of 2006, I repeatedly called his home trying to get ahold of him.

I'm kinda crazy like that. I hate *not knowing*. I can't sleep. It eats me up if I don't *know*.

So I finally got ahold of him and he told me that a neighbor had made a complaint about the condition of the property, specifically: Brush piled in the yard, automobile parts, and trailers parked in front of the residence. The complaint about the trailers gave it away. The "brush" was actually tree limbs from a long overdue "tree hair-cut" that we had trimmed one weekend, and cut up into firewood the next. Wasn't even there by the time the certified letter arrived. The automobile parts consist of the front clip of a 1981 Ford that was brought over by a well intentioned friend to replace parts damaged by a teenage son, 3 "parts" in all. But the trailers! That made me laugh. Yes, we own a 40 foot flatbed trailer. We also have a small utility trailer. It is important to note that we also live in the "semi-country", and so this is not an uncommon thing to see...trailers on one's property.

But, these are no ordinary neighbors! Nope. These are *those* kind of neighbors. Our "Welcome to the neighborhood" party consisted of a Police Cruiser and a polite officer telling us that while our trailer was legally parked, one of our neighbors had been driving the department crazy with daily calls to complain about the trailer. (Wasn't that nice of them?!) The kind officer even had a suggestion, park the trailer on the area next to the driveway; even though that parking arrangement wasn't technically legal according to the ordinances of Small Town, it might help the neighbor feel a little bit better about the situation and make them stop calling.

Apparantly, that didn't work, and the squeaky wheel DOES get the grease.

My Hubster is a patient man. But once his patience are used up, there is no reserve. Mom of All Trades Street was littered with no less than two trailers and four vehicles by Satruday afternoon. All legally parked, and stratigically placed so that all traffic must slow down and slolom carefully through, one car at a time. I hid the poster board and markers so that Hubster couldn't carry out the second part of his diabolical plan. B *can* read now, and I don't have any desire to be defining *those* words for my six and seven year old any time soon. When Hubster goes to work, I'll carry out the plan devised by my dad, and simply write the words: "BITE ME" in shoe polish on the windows. Why should I let him have all the fun?

Renewal of Spirit

I have said before that it seems as though life moves in cycles. Everyone experiences and talks about "life's' ups and downs", and maybe that's true for them, but I rather picture life as going along in a horizontal motion rather than a perpendicular one, stretched out across the timeline of our existence that stretches from infinity to infinity. And instead of the wheel spinning up and down, I picture it moving along that line, and spinning us like the Egg Beater ride at the fair, round and round as we travel down the timeline to our destiny.

The last two and a half years of my life have felt like we were at the back of the cycle, several yards back from where we had originally progressed, and caught in the g-force that was pushing us back. But every once in a while, I catch the glimmer of progression that seems to indicate that we are about to regain what has been lost, and progress further along the path of life than we have heretofore adventured.

I have spent the last few days ironing out what our life might be like in the next year, and two years, in terms of my husband's employment, my going back to school, and our plans with respect to homeschool. It appears as though the school schedule will allow me to still homeschool B and K. I hope I'm not kidding myself here, but I really think that I can structure my time to provide a quality education for both my children and myself. Having the support and help from my husband in both these endeavors is amazing.

The crowning moment in this new cycle of moving forward came in regard to homeschool.
I've spent the last two days researching curriculum and formulating a plan that goes beyond "if I can get them through this year and not screw up". Anyone who homeschools knows the self-doubt that can go along with undertaking sole responsibility of educating your children. I found a quote today in my research that hit me like a ton of bricks and was the cherry on-top of my freshly renewed excitement and dedication to homeschooling:

The object and design of education is Liberty!

* We teach morality so they will be free from vice.
* We teach literacy so they will be free from ignorance.
* We teach economics to free them from financial bondage.

How true and noble this statement rings! My desire that my children be classically educated by me, in our home has always felt like the right thing to do. The resistance we've met along the way, which felt devastating at first, just melts away when I remember that the education path we've chosen for our children will give them a childhood filled with classical literature, opportunity to think about math as more than problems on a page, a firm grasp on the details of the History of the World, and the opportunity to explore their world and their place in it.

My first and second grader absolutely lit up as we read the Washington Irving version of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I think it really says something about the opportunities afforded by teaching your own children, that as we meandered our way through the unfamiliar syntax and verbiage, we had talks about slavery, learning, descriptive writing, and the feelings of others. I think a great many people would dismiss this incredible work as far too advanced for children this age, instead feeding the child a watered down version with far fewer descriptives and a simplified plot. With little guidance from me, they not only *got* the story, they got excited about it, and wanted to spend extra time talking to me about it, with B even calling me to his bedside to whisper his questions and theories to me in the dark. I have no doubt that their learning and excitement is something that I wouldn't give away for all the world. The impact we have on our children is so incredibly vital to who they become and how they function in the world around them.

So through teaching my children today; amid the piles of laundry, the sinks full of dirty dishes and the never ending cycle of chores that goes into maintaining a home and family, I rediscovered the joy and excitement of parenting. The fact that I get to be these beautiful children's MOM! I'm so excited I could just pee myself!

Letting the Cat Out of the Bag

OK. So I know that breaking news isn't supposed to be done on your blog, but, I'm kind of a renegade that way. Besides, the only people it's really a secret from, is my parents.

So to the titles of; Wife, Mother, Bookeeper, Chauffer, Part-Time/Occasional Work From Home Dispatcher, Groundskeeper, Housekeeper and Blog Lady Extraordinare, I add the title of: Student.

See? I really am Mom of All Trades.

Yes Mom and Dad, you read that right.

I'm starting college.

Really and for sure.

I was gonna wait and tell you once I graduated, but I figured you might not believe me.

I didn't start out thinking "Gee, I ought to go to college". I told my parents when I was in seventh grade that I wasn't going to go to college. And I've really been quite OK with my decision. It hasn't really prevented me from doing anything I wanted to do...no degree required for changing diapers and wiping noses!

Anyhow, I was just going to fill out a FAFSA for myself and see if I qualified, since I was doing them for E and M anyway. But I wasn't going to college. I went ahead and filled out the application to go, but I wasn't going to college. I took the COMPASS test, but I wasn't going to college. I went to freshman orientation, OK, yeah, I might be "taking some classes". But today, oh today. I sealed my fate and registered for fall semester. A whole 16 hours worth of classes made their way onto my schedule. I guess that means I'm going to college.

And the schedule I managed to procure (see, sounding smart already!) should allow me to continue homeschooling the kids AND not disrupt the life of my family and friends to a great degree.

So, high ho, high ho, it's off to school I go!

My Secret is Out

Guess it would help if I'd BLOG once in a while, huh?! LOL I've been worn out and tired from the trip and then trying to get the three ring circus back on track now that I'm home.

So. Yeah. DYM is the super special celebrity blogger I got to meet and hang with! Since you all pretty much read her blog way before mine, you probably already know all about that! LOL She has a post up from two days ago that is makin' me feel all famous and stuff! She was one of the origional three blogs I got hooked on and gave me the idea that, I too, could blog with the big dogs. It was so fun to meet her and her cute kids. I didn't get to meet Snow White, but I got an even better treat; I got to meet the "REAL" Laylee, she told me she wasn't Snow White yet, because her Snow White dress was dirty and her mom had to wash it. The kids fed the gulls and pigeons at the beach and Daring and I flapped our gums, only pausing long enough to rescue the kids from jumping off the seawall. And, yes, I am so proud of my stalker status. I really did fly across the country AND walk three miles to meet her. I'll make sure and let you know when I'm coming to *YOUR* town...or should I say "a town near you"?

I mean no offense to my Seattle readers by pointing out the colorful freakiness of the inhabitants of your great city. Really. It's just that In my two weeks of travel, I have come to the conclusion that I need a discreet way of taking pictures of people I come across. The table full of "alternate lifestyle living men" dancing to "Don't You Wish Your Girlfriend was Hot Like Me" at a Pizza Hut in Moab is a prime example. That's definately some bloggable stuff. The people I come across in my travels are as much a part of the experience for me as the destination it's self. At the risk of being totally un-PC, it's good to have a belly laugh wondering if that guy over there thought he looked good in his shorty-shorts when he put them on this morning. Sorry, but if you attract attention, you might attract mine and I might laugh at you. Pay no attention to me, I don't get out much and I really can't help myself.

While in Washington, I got to tour some of their lovely temperate rainforest. Huge-o-normous trees and lots of green every where you go. Here are some favorite shots:








I really did take those! Aren't they great! Especially the waterfall pictures, they look like a postcard.

My sister is getting married at the fabulous Lake Quinalt Resort. It's a quiet, intimate place with limited space and unlimited hospitality. I ran across some very unfavorable reviews of the place on-line before my trip, particularly regarding the owners tolerance of children. I was skeered. But, wait! Nope. John was GREAT! Beyond great! He was so friendly, and when diaper duty (or should I say doody?) left me with a "package" un-suitable for and indoor trash, he saw me looking around for a trash, jumped up from his cozy chair, and graciously took the offending package uphill, in the rain, to the dumpster. How's THAT for service?! I was totally impressed. Here are some shots from that lovely location:






Some shots of the city from Gas Works Park, and the Freaky People Fest:





And then I just wouldn't be a good parent if I didn't post some sickeningly sweet pictures of my offspring on her first large scale adventure:






Whew! Tired yet? Life-a-la-boring comin' at ya next week!