The Hammer is Coming...Down on your head.

Today started out okay. Everyone wanted to get up earlier than I did, but that's about par for course. We ran an errand, and then started chores at home. When I say "started chores" I mean "I" started chores. It was actually a beautiful day, so it was good to see the darlings playing outside. January and February can get really ugly here, so I want them to get as much time outside as possible.

I transferred my load of laundry from the washer to the dryer, and turned the nob and pushed the start button. Nothing. Nada. Niet. I can't believe my dryer. I love it, and I hate it. It's so nice and big, and the inside is stainless steel (so I don't have to worry about damaging it). So, I drug all the wet clothes (quite heavy) and loaded the kids up to take the clothes to my Darling Mom's house. That sucked two hours out of my day.

During the late afternoon, the First and Second Darlings were being catty to each other - something I've noticed ramping up. Yesterday, Second Darling broke down in tears because she feels left out from First Darling's activities. Part of that is First Darling is growing up, she's in that no-man's land between kidhood and pre-teen. Any-hoo. I pulled out the big guns and warned that if they both couldn't treat each other the way they should, I would put them each in a bedroom alone, with no toys (because one must learn to be kind before having toys) and the coup de grace, I'd take the oh-so-cool bunk bed and give it to Third and Fourth Darlings to share. I was on the verge of loosing my religion. Of course they thought was totally harsh, but oh well.

So, in this new year of 2009, my resolution is to hold my children to more accountability in all the aspects of our family life. I think Darling Man and I have gotten lax, and it's showing. These next few weeks are going to be ugly, but I think if we can get through it, we'll be in like Flinn.
After I finish this post, I'm going to be creating charts, schedules, consequence matrices, school check-lists, etc. Oh yes, there will be blood...but as long as I have a cigarette and snazzy swim cap, (see above), I'll be fine.

Some things should never be Googled

Yesterday, we had quite a fruitful day of schooling. Everything was clicking, and I was on a high from having no spats, rolled eyes or complaints. Little Man was at pre-school, Fourth Darling was somewhere, probably checking in with her CIA handlers. So, First and Second Darlings and I were discussing the upcoming grooming of Lola. I think it was First Darling who asked why we couldn't just do the job. I faintly remembered something ugly about the process, so we "googled" dog grooming. It came to the part of the process of the cleaning of the anal glands. Aye-freak'n-carumba! Like suckers, the three of us were crowded around the lap top to watch the abomination. As soon as it happened, First Darling ran off in dry heaves, saying "I need some water. I need some WATER!!!!" Second Darling started screaming at a pitch that almost cracked the glass candle holders. Have you ever laughed and dry heaved at the same time? It's hard to do, but I managed. So, dear ones, this holiday season when you're bored and have nothing to do...BEWARE of Google. Not everything should be seen. Please remind me of this when one of the Darlings asks about embalming.

Words to live by....

I found this little plaque, and I think it's the greatest idea I've come across in a while. If it's too hard to read, this is what it says: "Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!"

Isn't that great? Just keep that in mind when you're trying to do everything.

Don't you hate the horny toads?

Well, the process has begun. I've started talking to First Darling about hormones, and the whole "body changing" thing. I also talked to Second Darling, and tried to explain to her that sometimes First Darling might be grumpy or sad, and not understand why. (I wanted to tell her to hold onto her socks, because she's next - whaa, whaa, whaa). Well, the other day, I was swinging Second Darling on the rope swing, and I asked her how she and First Darling were getting along. (There have been some sisterly spats). "Well, last night she said she was mad because her horny toads were bothering her." Oh my gosh, I almost bust out laughing. I said, "You mean her hormones?" "Yes," she said rather plainly, "those too." Is that not the most hilarious thing? Now when I'm PMS-ing, I'll blame it on my horny toads. Nasty little creatures, aren't they?

Guess which one is me.

If you believed the message of this original piece of art, you would think that I was a googly-eyed crazy lady wielding a sad-faced stick. In reality, this is Second Darling getting a spanking with the spanking spoon (haven't you ever seen a wooden spoon frown?). Unfortunately, she chose to pull a Bill Clinton on me (duh, she lied). There are very few things that warrant a spanking in our house, but lying is one of those things. So, she was "admonished," "physically encouraged" to not lie...okay, she was spanked.

Apparently, she was displeased. She drew this picture on the back of her math paper that we were working on together, and I think she was actually pretty steamed that the drawing didn't make me mad. I actually thought it was pretty funny. On our break, I ran and scanned it, and then sent it to Darling Man at work. I was just happy I could count this as art class and a counseling session!

By-the-way, how impressed are you that I figured out how to use the scanner without burning the house down? Yes, I know. I'm a genius.

Welcome to the Jungle

I'm really disappointed in how little people seem to truly think for themselves. Just throw some pretty words at them, and they'll buy anything. Did you hear that crazy lady at an Obama rally that is so excited because he's going to buy her gas? Can you say delusional? Look for it on YouTube.

Also, does it strike anyone else as creepy/weird/ foreboding at how excited people in other countries are at the results of this election? I'm sure several goats, chickens and fattened calves have been sacrificed all over the third world, and in some areas of New Jersey. When was the last time you danced in the street upon hearing a German prime minister was elected?

I think the true feelings of Americans are playing out in the stock market. Have you been watching it nose dive? You can see what's important to people when you look at their money.

Hey, hey. Party, party, party because Obama will take care of all of us bitter Americans who are clinging to our religion and guns.

Hey Mom.....

Hey mom...do still have that KNIFE in your purse? These are not the words you want shouted across the public transportation bus as you barrel through downtown. Last Thursday, I had a meeting with one of my professors and thought it would be a great opportunity to take the Darling girls on the bus (Little Man was at preschool). They had been wanting to try it out. Darling Grandmom came along for crowd control. Each girl packed a lunch box with snacks so that they could eat while I was in my meeting. Apples were on the menu, and because my darlings lean to the "princess" side, the apples must be cut up. So, my mother packed a paring knife for that purpose. Of course, the unwashed masses on the bus were lacking this context, so when First Darling clearly yelled out what she did, all I could do was smile sweetly, and hope nobody else on the bus could speak English.

Even though I tried to look as demurely non-threatening as possible, if my writing schedule gets any heavier, I may end up looking like the picture of Joan Crawford that I've posted.

Finally someone explains it!

If you can sit still long enough to get through this skit, it's hilarious and sad - all at the same time. I actually laughed out loud!

Untitled Entry

Do you think she's seen this somewhere at home? Yes, I'll admit that I'm a sucker for multi-tasking - if nothing else, for survival. Although unlike Fourth Darling, I do usually wear clothes. I have been known to nurse, write on the laptop and talk on the phone at the same time, so I guess her depiction is not that far off. I just thought this picture was too cute, and a little poignant.

Projects and papers are coming due soon, so it may be a while, (more than usual), until I post again. If you're wondering what I'm up to, just look back at this picture!

Whatever Makes You Happy

Sooooo, I'm well into the fall semester now, and I've learned a few things....not necessarily part of the curriculum. I have learned that the dark, disturbing and salacious not only sell books on the Oprah's Book Club, but also in academia. My motherhood in literature class has moved beyond "ick" to down right nasty and disturbing. I completely quit reading one book in the middle because it was so vile. I actually turned to an online "cliff notes" to get my assignment done, and even that was too much information. To add to my affection for this class, I got a C on my first paper. Son of a *!?%$!

Another thing I have learned is that it is really hard to find a pair of shoes that are cute and at the same time, not crippling. Like any goofy freshman wearing headgear and braces, I made the rookie mistake of wearing some cutsie Mary Janes to my first day of class. Half way to my class (which is quite a jaunt) I was walking like the hunchback of Notre Dame. I was seconds away from just taking them off and walking barefoot, but really, ugh. Of course, I paid a whopping $9 at Wal-Mart for those shoes. Upon further research, and one last step in faith, I found and wore some oh-so-cute shoes that didn't make me cuss. True, I did pay a little more (don't tell Darling Man, quite a lot more), but don't you like? I am beginning to appreciate the female fetish with shoes.
After the soul-sucking experience in the above mentioned literature class, it's amazing how looking at these shoes cheered me up.

Let me tell you, schlepping a book bag is much more burdensome than a fully loaded diaper bag. I think there's something cosmic about that.

Any-hoo. I just finished another paper for the motherhood class. I hope I do better. When I got that C, I had a mini nervous breakdown on the ride home with Darling Man.

Don't forget to register to vote!

Eeeeppp!!!!

Well kids, I'm into my third week of classes. To put it bluntly, I think I'm getting ready to have my butt handed to me on a silver platter. I'm feeling like the cat in this picture.

The class I'm taking in "special topics, in Motherhood" is just such a disappointment. My idealistic hopes of beautifully literary examples of motherhood have been dashed on the feminist alter of cynicism. We are reading Franco-Caribbean and Afro-American authors' examples of "the bad mother." Holy cow...could it be any more dreary? Of course, it took mere minutes for me to be pinned as a right-wing-intolerant-prejudiced-patriarchal-ruled-woman. It's going to take a miracle, literally, to get out of this class with a decent paper. The excitement has been squished out of me like a two-day-old-dried-road-kill-frog.

My second class, which is a broad survey, looks like it'll be more interesting, but after getting the voluminous book list, today the prof told us that the list was the "launching point." What the *$#%???? We're supposed to research more books that we want to analyze and present to the class. Launching point? Is he high? Maybe I should be high.

Miracle-of-miracles, homeschooling has been going well. Little Man started his preschool and is just flourishing. Fourth Darling is having mild issues with not calling the shots. Overall though, that part of our life is going well. The First and Second Darlings are cooperating, thank GOD! If they ever figure out that they can mutiny, it's totally over.

The Wheels on the Bus

I am older than twenty, and less than forty, and last week I had my very first public transportation bus ride. Because of the high gas prices, and ungodly parking situation at my college, we thought the bus would be a good solution to my schooling transportation situation.

I'm sure for you well traveled, east coasters, this would be no big deal. Well, first, we Texans tend to be fiercely independent, especially when it comes to our driving. Public transportation is just not a part of our culture - we're not like London or New York where everybody uses it. Secondly, here in town, the public transportation system is kind of a small, private school girl's boogey man. Yes, I'll admit it yet again, that I am a snob. Up until this time I just pictured myself sitting on the bus with a cell phone, already dialed 9-1-1 and waiting to hit the "send" button, in one hand and a can of mace in the other. A little over reactionary? Perhaps. Well, Wednesday was my test run.

Because I was a bus riding rookie, I decided that the prudent thing to do was learn about it before my first day of class. Not dumb enough to go on my own, I brought my trusty side kick, aka "Mom," along. Of course, the last time she had used the bus was in 1970...literally. I didn't know how to buy a ticket, pay for it, or find out which bus to take.

Thanks to the handy Internet figured out which bus I needed. It even listed the price. It just didn't say how I was supposed to physically pay for it. Do I pay the driver? Do I order a ticket online? So, on Wednesday we managed to show up at the right time, and thankfully a wise old bus-worker-woman was lounging over two seats in the waiting cabana. She told me to buy a "day pass" since it'd be cheaper than paying for each individual trip (remember, we had to get back home!) She was very helpful, but I'm sure we stood out as totally lost, I'll remember to never wear those gold sandals on the bus.

Miracle of miracles, we were not robbed, shot, molested or propositioned on the entire ride. The driver was a bit chatty, but that's okay. It was actually a lot of fun. Fourth Darling, who went with us, loved it. She kept saying "buuse, buuse!" The ride was easy, and I was not lost in the bowels of los barrios (what we Texans call the ghetto).

I think I'm actually going to enjoy the ride so that I can get last minute studying or reading done before my classes. I feel so urban!

I guess it could have been worse

At least she wasn't wielding one of these things! Thursday evening, I was talking on the phone, starting dinner, clearing off the table multi-tasking, when out of the corner of my eye, I see Fourth Darling coming down the hallway, out of our bedroom, slinging an uncapped bottle of furniture oil. She was shaking that thing like it was a champagne bottle after a Super Bowl win.

My floors! Agghhh! My walls. DO NOT PUT THAT IN YOUR MOUTH! Geeeeesshhh.

As I slipped and slid down the hall to get the fatally toxic household cleaner away from her, she laughed and laughed, and thought it'd be fun to run. I was so steamed! I did get it away from her, and let me tell you, I just about threw a temper tantrum myself.

There was oil dripping down the walls, all over our relatively new laid floors and of course, everyone came running through the slippery hall to see what all of the commotion was about. Thankfully, for her sake, and my sanity, Darling Man kept a logical lid on the situation.

Apparently the oil won't ruin my new floors, it only makes us squeak as we walk through the hallway, and the oil wiped off the walls since we were quick about it.

You know the worst thing, out of the whole situation? I had no one to blame but myself, and that just ratcheted the level of "pissivity" up a few notches. I must say, I was proud of my Darling Man. He's a smart one. He didn't even ask me why I wasn't watching her, or why didn't I put the oil away when I was finished using it. Oh, I'm sure he thought it, but he's a genius that way!

Igloos & Idiots

Today Darling Man and I had to have a talk about obedience with Second Darling. All to often, it seems, she sucks us into a "discussion" about whatever it is we've asked of her, and we end up in the middle of this "discussion" before we realize it.

I think this discussion began because we told all the darlings to go out into the backyard to play while we finished preparing dinner. Well, it was above 78 degrees, so Second Darling languished by the back door, telling us all the reasons she didn't want to go outside. The point was that we told her to go outside.

So, in our discussion of obedience, I for some unknown reason mentioned that "We know you are smart, smarter than some adults, but just because you think you're smarter or have a better reason, you still have to obey." Sounds pretty good, huh? It backfired within milliseconds.

The abstract discussion of immediate obedience, and all that entails theologically (God tells us to obey) and practically (if you don't you'll get the spanking spoon) somehow moved into discussing the particular incident of Second Darling's reluctance to go outside. One of the Darling Parents I'm not naming names, mentioned something about Eskimos living in igloos would love to be able to play in a backyard in the warm humid, stifling Texas summer. Without missing a beat, Second Darling continued in debate mode and stated that people don't live in igloos anymore silly rabbit. Then she dropped the bomb: "You're right, I am smarter than some adults." Whhhhaaaaattttt?????

(Now in her defense, I know in my heart she was not directing this personally at either one of the Darling Parents, but just rather a statement remember, she's compelled to say everything that she thinks, "Yes, I do believe I am a lot smarter than a lot of adults." Somehow we'll be working the character trait of humility into our curriculum this year).

Oh my gosh, if I had been drinking anything, I swear it would have shot right out my nose. I couldn't even look at Darling Man. I had to let my laughter out or else I would have had a stroke from keeping it in. Her timing was impeccable! She then was quite sheepish when she realized that her statement sounded like she was criticizing her beloved, wonderful, super-cool Darling Parents. We assured her that we knew she wasn't being malicious, and that no matter how smart and adult was, or was not, she has to immediately obey.

Holy cow...I'll remember this forever. I'm sure when she's sticking it to the man, and fighting the system, I'll look back on this discussion as a forerunner to her revolutionary tendencies.

Working a great supply buzz

Ahhh. It's beautiful isn't it? School supplies. Yes, I'll admit it. I've been a school supply junkie since I can remember. I can specifically remember the animated raccoon on my third grade notebook, and let's not forget the required-for-every-American-girl-horse TrapperKeeper!

Let me tell you, I got giddy when I saw composition books on sale for five cents a piece! Agghhhhh!!! I think I've hit nirvana. Oh yes, these supplies, pictured here, are for my children, well, most of them are for the kids. In order to extend the rush, NO ONE is to touch the supplies, until I pass them out on that glorious first day of school. Yes, I am a dork. Actually, just call me Queen of the Dorks. So be it.

I wonder if a psychologist would link my decision to go back to graduate school to my enjoyment of all things school supply-ish? Hmmmm?

Darling Man absolutely doesn't understand this thrill. When I was getting up early to shop for the hallowed school supplies right before fifth grade, he was sporting his Indiana Jones hat, probably swinging from tree to tree. So, now with his own spawn, he doesn't see the big deal about The Supplies.

I know that there are fellow dorks out there, whether or not you will admit it.
Enjoy your school supply hunt. I will relish every fresh, unused note pad, unsharpened pencil and fresh, un-mixed-up box of markers!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Sunday was my birthday. Yea me. I dare not tell you which birthday it was. Darling Man had to work, but I ventured out with the Darlings to church on my own. The Darlings looked great, and we were actually enough ahead of schedule that we were able to stop and get traditional Sunday-morning-donuts.

In between Sunday School and worship service, I corralled them all into the bathroom in hopes of avoiding the mid-service stampede. Of course, cramming all five of us into the stall was bound to have consequences. Luckily, the only casualty was my rarely-worn pantyhose. So, before we left the ladies' room, I just took off the hose and threw them away. At least, the no-hose look is in style at the moment.

As soon as service started, the drama began, as if on cue. "I'm bored. When will it be over? Can we just leave now?" Ridiculous! You would think these were heathens from the jungle who had never been in church before. Little Man got so bored that he decided to lift the back of my skirt up. UP, I say! I think I almost broke his arm trying to get my skirt back down. Did I mention that this was the first time we had visited this particular church. Great way to make an impression.

Just as we got into the van, my in-laws called and invited us out to lunch for my birthday. How sweet. Never to turn down a restaurant meal, we agreed to meet. Now, because I am a reluctant cook, my kids have been going to restaurants since they were literally just days old. It's not like this was the first time I let them out of the cage house. Well, as we were waiting for our waitress and then for our food, I thought my children had lost their ever-loving-minds. Little man was trying to climb over Darling Mother-in-Law's back. Fourth Darling was demanding to suck on the empty ketchup bottle. Of course I let her, because hey, I wanted to enjoy my diet coke. Third Darling was ready to leave before the waitress even got our drink orders - she was bored. Good Lord! Darling In-Laws were very gracious and helpful with the handful of worms children, so it wasn't a totally horrible lunch. I managed to enjoy it for the mere fact that my children were fed and I didn't have to clean up after them!

After lunch, we drove home as quickly as possible and began "quiet time." This is code for "I banished everyone to their own rooms with strict instructions to BE QUIET!" They actually did pretty good, which was a great birthday gift.

Readers!!!!!

Yea! I have just "met" a reader on my buddy map that I don't know personally! Yes, that's a strange sentence, I know. But Susan, from Happy Camp, California, yes, I googled it and it is a real place, signed my buddy map! Apparently there's been some kind of Big Foot sightings in that area. Cool!

I am so excited because someone I don't know, and who doesn't know my crazy clan, actually reads my blog! I have wonderful family and friends who read, but often in my "I'll never be a writer" funk, I think they're just reading to be nice.

Thanks for signing my map, Susan! For any of you other readers who haven't done it yet, please sign it! It's so cool to see where my readers live!

Is it really that bad?

Last night I found myself staring in disbelief as I watched Second Darling literally scraping her lasagna clean of all cheese and sauce. What was even more astounding was the growing pile of paper napkins that she was discarding as she used them to do her dirty work. Fourth darling had sauce everywhere, I think, except on the piano, and here Second Darling is teetering on OCD with pasta! This was one of those moments where my brain said, "Be a grown-up. Don't say anything. It's her food, let her eat it the way she wants." I actually listened this time, but it sure was hard not to say "What's the big deal?" Darling Man would insert here that this commentary is coming from the girl who wouldn't accept a chipped cookie as a child. So that's his two cents. I think I've come a long way baby. Well, maybe she is a lot like me, even if she looks just like him.

On another subject, meet Lola. - our newest contestant in the game show that is our life. She's soooo sweet! Of course, it took her two nights of howling to wear us down. Now she's in our bed, actually curled up next to Darling Man's pillow. Oh well. If scraping pasta sauce off cooked noodles doesn't freak us out, a dog on the bed is no big deal!

Date Night

Ahhh. The planets aligned, and Darling Man and I were actually able to go out on a date. Darling Grandmom and Grandpa worked crowd control at our house, buying off the darlings with corn dogs and Spider Man cake.

We drive in the oh so sexy minivan to a nice little bakery/bistro. You know - one where you place an order at the counter and then they call your number when it's ready? (Yea, yea, it's just a step up from McDonald's, but it is a step up, nonetheless). Darling Man gives the order, and when the order chick asks "will that complete your order?" he said "Yes." ??????? I looked at him and said "You better be paying for mine! considering the government won't subsidize me raising his spawn. He turned a darling shade of red. As I left him at the counter to pay, I heard him sheepishly explaining to order chick that he's just so used to ordering lunch individually at work. Wow. Out to lunch.....with grown ups.....nice. I digress. Anyway, it is a very rare occasion that I actually have something to tease him about. Usually it's me making the gaffs, losing his wallet or burning the clutch out on his truck. We had a nice time visiting over dinner. I actually enjoyed eating, and remembered what it was I ate since I didn't have to answer five kazillion trillion questions all at the same time.

But wait - the romance continues. After dinner we went to the bookstore. Each of us had $40 to spend on books. This was such an exciting prospect that we ditched each other at the door to go on our own treasure hunt. This confirms our induction into Gamma Gamma Geek, the local secret society for full on geeks. By-the-way, contrary to popular belief, the above pic is not actually me and Darling Man. I don't know who those people are.

Days You Could Just Scream

Our Father's Day weekend started off with a thud. On Friday, Second Darling got really sick. I had an appointment for 3:30pm. Around 2pm, she got really sick, really quick. She's been having "tummy" issues, and this was just really bad, with a fever of 103 that came on so quickly. I didn't want to wait until 3:30 because of course, I thought something was really wrong.

We picked up Darling Grandmom, (who always rides shotgun) and flew down the expressway to Darling Man's hospital. The hospital has an Express Clinic. Silly me, I thought that meant fast. I didn't think we were in need of the emergency room yet, but I figured if it was her appendix, we could just be moved into the ER which was all at the same location.

By the time we arrive at the hospital, Second Darling is yacking and can barely walk. Darling Man meets us downstairs to walk us to the Express Clinic. I send Darling Grandmom, with the minivan and other Darlings, back home to wait. I figured after we're seen, we can just wait until Darling Man is finished for the day and then ride home with him.

We sign-in and I send Darling Man back to work while we wait to be seen. We sit there with the unwashed masses, and I'm thinking "any minute they'll call us." Well, they called us, after an hour, to fill out the paperwork. The wait to see the doctor would be short, about three hours. Whaaatttt????? Darling Man was there when I heard this and stepped between me and the woman who was growing into her office chair. "I thought this was supposed to be E-X-P-R-E-S-S" I growled. Darling Man informed me it was express - a three to six hour wait to see a doctor is express compared to waiting twenty (yes, 2-0) hours in the emergency room for non-life-threatening situations.

I came here because I thought she'd be seen quicker, and now I'm being told that I gave up a perfectly good appointment to sit and wait three to six hours to see someone? I could feel my vein bulging in my forehead. I was so mad, and only at myself. Darling Man gingerly said "I wondered why you came here." I had nothing to say.

A bit of my grandmother reared up in me and almost jumped on the counter, refusing to wait, demanding to see the doctor, but I controlled myself. Darling Man offered his truck to me to take Second Darling to the Texas MedClinic. Okay. We walked downstairs with Darling Man (and his bad back) carrying Second Darling. We're on our way out the electric doors when he asks if I have keys to his truck. Nope. Tantrum number two is on its way.

He gets us settled into his truck because his truck is so old that it's easy to break into it - we do it all the time, sick kid and all, and then runs up six flights of stairs (with his tweaked back) to get his keys. Second Darling is literally begging to go home. I feel like, well, crap, (the only word I can think of to use). How could I have made such a stupid mistake? I'm talking to Sick Darling, when Darling Man runs up on the drivers side like a car jacker. He's lucky I don't carry a gun - yet. I turn the truck on, give him a quick and curt smooch, and as I pull out of the parking spot, he says "don't forget you have to pump the clutch sometimes." Okay, whatever.

Well, we get out of the parking lot, and onto the main thoroughfare when the clutch refuses to work. I'm "pumping" like a crazy person, praying out loud, which is freaking out Sick Darling. Traffic in late afternoon in the medical center is crazy. I'm pulling my shoulder muscles trying to jam the stick shift into gear, to no avail. After a few thousands pumps, (and waving angry med students around us), the truck lurched into first gear. Okay, just get back to the hospital. Well, of course we hit the first red light we come upon. Once again, no clutch. Aaaaagggggghhhhhhh!
Once again, I randomly get it back into first gear and limp the whole way to the gas station at the end of the block. We'll just call Darling Man. I can smell the burning clutch.

Not so fast, smarty pants. Where's the cell phone? Aaagggghhhhh! Okay, I'll go into the gas station, buy a much needed Diet Coke and get some cash back so I can use the cootie-fied public phone. I take Sick Darling in the gas station with me. It's so crammed with stuff that it's oppressive. Sick Darling is begging to sit down. Not on this floor! I get a bottle of soda, hand Habeeb my check card, and ask for $5 cash back, with at least four quarters. "Sorry - no cash back here." Aaaaagggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Are you freak'n kidding me? So, I paid $1.50 on my check card for a soda, and nothing else.

Sick Darling is looking horrible. I see an office building across a busy street. I used to see an obstetrician there, so I thought I could use his phone and keep Sick Darling in an air conditioned area. This whole time I'm praying that she's not on the verge of rupturing her appendix. As we're standing at the crossing lights, waiting, and waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the lights to change, I hear my phone ringing. I know it's not in my purse, but where is it? I checked the vomit bucket we'd been carrying around, but nope, not there either. It was in my pocket.

I told Darling Man what happened and where we were. He instructed us to sit tight and he'd be there in a minute. Now I'm encouraging Sick Darling, "Just hold on, Daddy's on his way." She's still begging to go home. By now I'm sweaty, stinky, and totally exasperated, all while trying to put a good spin on it for Sick Darling.

One of Darling Man's friends brought him to us, and we slid over in his micro-truck, and he drove us effortlessly to the Texas MedClinic. After this driving fiasco, I think my right arm is now slightly more muscular than the left, just from trying to shift gears.

We get to the MedClinic, we're seen in about twenty minutes. Of course, by now, it's 5:30pm - two hour after my originally scheduled doctor's appointment that I'm kicking myself for canceling.

The doctor diagnoses Sick Darling with a stomach virus within two seconds of seeing her, and prescribes a shot of something for nausea. Forget trying to spell the name of it. Within about ten minutes of the shot, she's asleep on the exam table. As Darling Man carries his sleeping Darling to the truck, the doctor reminds us that this stomach virus is particularly contagious, so expect everyone else to get it too. Aaaaaggggghhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

By the way, after all of this I felt so grimy, so gross and so utterly unable to make good decisions. I so totally questioned what has happened to me. I used to be smart enough to work with millions of dollars of the government's money, and now I can't even make logical decisions when it comes to going to a doctor's appointment. Well, I am just now climbing out of the abyss of my identity crisis and I'm now deciding that it was just a particularly crappy, crappy day.

Thank God, He gives us new days.

PS: Little man started hurling at 1am that night, but brother and sister are almost back to normal now, and thankfully nobody else seems to be getting it.

Dinner at Our House

Most nights, dinnertime is an adventure - to say the least. This is partly because I am not a chef, and cooking is not one of my favorite things to do. As a result, I usually put preparation off until the very last minute. This is also the time of day when all of the darlings are s-t-a-r-v-i-n-g and driving me crazy begging for food. I'm trying to fix dinner, carefully following the recipe because I can't "wing it" in the kitchen while the natives are dancing around me wailing "I'm hungwy, I'm hungwy....waa...."
Well, tonight, I actually had my act somewhat together, and had the king ranch chicken put together and in the oven, with the automatic turn-off set (first time to use that feature) so that we could - as a family - go swimming at our neighborhood pool. It worked out well - dinner cooked and the house didn't burn down. I'll have to try that again.

Above is a picture of Fourth Darling at the table tonight. Yes, that is a baby doll and yes, she's getting ready to salt it. The little cannibal had already finished her casserole, and had downed about half a watermelon, so to finish off she was going for the baby. That doesn't bode well for the future.

Tonight at the table was great, though. It was one of those evenings that I always want to remember. We talked, and laughed, and it was truly wonderful. Second darling used "air quotes" on me, which was a little unnerving, but Darling Man and I cracked up, none-the-less.

Now, what am I going to fix for tomorrow night?

Cutest Snores

How is that everything your kids do is cute? Second Darling is at this very moment, sleeping right next to me on the couch as I type. She's softly snoring, and I'll be darn, it's the cutest thing! I know couples who have gone to having their own bedrooms because of snoring, so how is it that her snoring is so endearing?

Fourth Darling has decided that it's time to potty train, (she's 22 months old). When she first started telling me to take her to the bathroom, I thought "great! No more diapers!" Well, like most things, there's good and bad. The bad is that now she no longer wants to wear diapers, pull-ups, or even underwear. She's going commando, and it's driving me crazy. (Don't forget I have new wood floors!). I looked up today from loading the dishwasher to see her "full moon" streaking by. I almost had to hog tie her in the kitchen to get a diaper on and then I had to find the tightest shorts she had so that she couldn't slip out of them. I'm sure if someone had heard her, they would be convinced I was trying to brand her or something, but no, just trying to keep her modestly covered. Aye carumba!

Texas Has the Best Dinos

Who would have thought to look in North Texas for dinosaurs?! Apparently, lots of people! We were up in Glen Rose, Texas for a Darling Family Reunion. Lots of fun! One of the outings was to explore the Creation Museum, which, actually was quite a disappointment. How funny is it to be driving down a rural road in Texas, to come upon Rexy here? Of course the little Darlings l-o-v-e-d it. But just down the road was DINOSAUR WORLD - a fabulous example of secular natural history marketing. We paid just over $50 for the three older darlings to get to dig in a sand box for fossils that were probably bought in bulk from China. There was also a "museum," and I use that term very loosely - I think all of the "fossils" were castings of real fossils. Dinosaur World's gift shop was double the size of the "museum." Still, it was a kitschy blast!

It was hot...very hot. The little cabin we stayed in was not a log cabin, much to the Darlings' dismay. It was actually a modified mobile home which was converted into small little efficiency rooms. Tres chic! The rooms did have window unit air conditioners, which I was very thankful to have - or so I thought. The way those units just shoot cold air straight out is so lovely. In an 8x8 foot room, it takes about ten minutes to become super cold. Of course in the pre-travel frenzy, our blankets were left behind. I slept with a towel over my face the whole night because it was so cold that it hurt to breathe. We were in that vacation hell where if we turned the a/c down, we'd swelter but if we kept it set where it was, we froze. We also got to experience the fascinating feel of both freezing and sweating at the same time. Is that even possible? Somehow, in the humidity of Texas, it is. Nothing like that fresh, sticky feeling to wake up with in the morning.

These vacations are good because they give us time to be a family together, and it also makes us really appreciate central air.

The Mastermind and Her Muscle

Doesn't this just look like a future mug shot? Bonnie and Clyde? Just so you'll quit wondering, The Enforcer, aka Little Man, has not just licked a hallucinogenic frog, but Fourth Darling is definitely scheming. Be afraid of the wee little one - she'll have you swimming with the fishes, and I'm not joking. No one will even know you're missing until it's too late.

My Overdue Rant

First, this is a freaking hilarious cake.

Secondly, the source of my rant today, apt pupils, is how crappy grants and financial aid can be for college students. Now that I'm on my way back to grad school to finish what I started before Fourth Darling made her stealthy appearance, I am on the prowl for grants, fellowships, scholarships, anything that can help subsidise this endeavor. I always hear about "money for students that goes unclaimed." Bull. I'd be happy to claim a bit o' that pie, but apparently, I miss the requirements on every mark. My latest teeth-clenching episode was when I received notice of a new fellowship that is available for grad students in my field. Yea!!!! I'm on it. Then I read the notice a little more. While I am "invited" to apply for it (filling out a form and writing an essay, submitting documents, etc.), it reads, "please be aware that single parents will be given priority over grade point average." Whaaaaaatttttt???????? So, I'm asking Darling Man for a divorce.

Noooo....not really. But how discouraging is that? Oh, I'm still going to submit my package, but why isn't there any fellowships for single-income families who are trying to raise their kids to be productive citizens, while going back to school and totally disrupting the family routine? I think I also might have a better shot if I were a one-legged-lesbian-minority-transvestite- natural catastrophe-survivor. And if you happen to be a one-legged-lesbian-minority-transvestite- natural catastrophe-survivor, and you don't like what I just wrote....I don't care.

By-the-way: ha ha...two posts in one day!

Summer Slump?

Okay, okay. I know it's just a few minutes short of being exactly a month since I last posted....but hear me out. This has been a wild and crazy month, and it's not over yet!

We had "The Wedding" of Darling Brother and his Bavarian love. It was a gorgeous wedding, and the Darlings were overjoyed to be a part of it. Well, at least the female darlings were. Little Man looked like he was off to his execution. I hope he's a little more excited at his own wedding one day.
He only became a little more ticked off when he found out he had to wear a "fwower" (commonly known in English as a flower). He actually did great. He wasn't happy about it, but he was a good sport.

Fourth Darling almost sailed down the aisle, and was only saved by grabbing her older sister's skirt. Unfortunately, Second Darling didn't know that Fourth Darling was getting tangled up in the aisle runner, so she kept swatting at Fourth Darling, all while walking down the aisle. It was quite funny. Little Man had no patience for these females, so he decided to pass those two
as if he were a race car sling-shotting (is that a word?) around his sisters.

But wait, we're not done yet! The day after the wedding, Darling Man's sister came into town for the first time in two years. So the kids were chomping at the bit to see their cousin, with whom they played for hours in an ancient sprinkler. They had a blast and we had a nice visit.

Now we have a about three days before we leave for a family reunion. I'm excited because instead of counting it as a business expense, I am counting it as a science class because there's a huge fossil deposit in the state park near our location. I think though, that Little Man is expecting some real dinosaurs...hmmm....how are we going to pull that off? So I'm hoping to have some wild and crazy stories and photos to post. With this many darlings, that almost a sure bet!

Ding Dong the Van is Dead

Yea! The big green van is officially gone! We sold it!!!! Somebody actually gave us money for it. I was a bit chagrined at the calls we got about it.

Darling Man worked really hard detailing the van. It sparkled. We came to realize that in the two plus years we've had it, we never washed it. Never. N-E-V-E-R. He was even able to get the petrified happy meal smell out of it.

The first call we got was from some guy who was wanting to buy it "for a bunch of nuns in Alice, TX." Seriously, this is what he said. Of course, Darling Man was very suspicious. I didn't care....as long as the nun's had dollars and not pesos, I could make a deal! The potential buyer asked me to take the van to his mechanic (way on the South side of town). So naturally, wanting to get rid of the beast, I obliged.

At the mechanic's shop, I thought I'd try to get the sliding door to shut just a little better. Remember, the door had a fear of latching. Anyway, I gave it a good slam and push, and then I couldn't get it to open again. Great. We brought it twenty miles from home to have the door jam on me. Agghhhhh!!!! After almost pulling my back out trying to open it, I was ready for my usual Diet Coke, so, "whatever" and I climbed into our lovely, 21st century, Japanese minivan with dual sliding doors, where my mom was waiting to take me back home. Needless to say, the man who was supposedly buying this for the nuns backed out because it was running rough. Yea? What do you expect for a twelve year old van that's been through four kids who jam french fries into the air vents?

Thankfully, we had a few more calls. On Sunday, we showed it to a man who brought two friends with him. They checked the engine, which any wise buyer would do, but I thought I was seeing things when I could have sworn one of the men TASTED the transmission fluid. What....?????? Yes. He did. I don't know if he was trying to intimidate us with his immense knowledge of the many types of vehicle fluids, or what, but when he offered us $800 for the van, I almost made him eat the dip stick. He actually whined about "gee, I really need a van, but all I can do is $800." Darling Man was so nice. He explained that that was just way to low. Then the haggler walked over to me and tried to convince me to accept the low-ball offer. Apparently he didn't know that Darling Man was the more sympathetic one. It didn't take me two seconds to say "NOPE. No Deal. Adios!"

Finally a second little guy showed up and paid us what we want. A-W-E-S-O-M-E!

Sum'thin Stuk

Hallelujah! I got a wonderful surprise today when Darling Mother-in-Law told me about First Darling using "plagiarism" in a sentence. She was quite impressed. So was I! How many nine year old kids do you know who can appropriately use "plagiarism" in a sentence?

Darling MIL even asked her what it meant, and First Darling explained that it was stealing another person's idea.

You know what this means, right? Yea!!!! Something has stuck in homeschooling! Of course, if I had been a betting mother, I wouldn't have put much on the definition of "plagiarism," but I'll take it!

We had actually discussed the concept of plagiarism, but it was just a mention. It's amazing what they'll remember. I'll start polishing my tiara now. Not too bad.....

I'm So Old....and Uncool

Facebook, MySpace...ugh...I'm so out of it. Some friends and I are trying to set up a user-friendly web group for our group of homeschooling friends. (Yes, I know that sentence just oozes with nerdy-goodness). We thought using Facebook or MySpace would be the easiest and cheapest way, so that we wouldn't have to pay a webmaster. Now, that extortion payment isn't looking so bad.

After suspiciously turning over my name and info to these two "social networking sites" I thought it should be easy as pie to set up a group of friends, create a group calendar and have some kind of message board. Well......not so much.

Facebook has this thing called a poke. Yes, I know. I agree it sounds obscene. In real like if someone pokes me, he, she or it better be ready to pull back a stump. Apparently, it's a good thing in cyberspace. I still don't really know what it is, or why it is (metaphysically speaking).

I never fancied myself a hipster on the cutting edge of anything, but I felt like I could usually hold my own, or at least fake it long enough to get through what I needed to do. Well, I'm slowing down in my old age. What kills me is that these troglodytes (love that word!) that work at McJobs have these elaborate pages, and I'm freaking out because I got "poked". Snob, you say? Yep, heard it...you're probably right.

If you're one of those that has no idea what I'm talking about and I'm not sure I know exactly, just jaunt on over to one of these sites and set yourself up with a page. You'll be yearning for the good 'ol days of rotary phones and remote controls that were attached to your television by a six foot cord.

In my cyber-angst, Darling Man's words of encouragement were "don't hurt yourself." Of course in all of my ineptitude, I'll probably "red-flag" somewhere, and the men in black will be knocking on my door.

By-the-way, Darling Man turns thirty-five on Sunday....why does that sound so much more grown-up than thirty-four?

Wow

Sunday the four darlings and I visited a new church. Darling Man was working his obligatory weekend, so of course, anarchy reigned.

On our way there, everyone was grumbling about going. Once we were there, though, their tunes changed. It was a much smaller congregation than our megalo-church that we attend at the moment. The campus was tucked into a lovely wooded area that blended with the environment rather than dominated it.

I digress....my first two darlings are pretty shy when they are out of their comfort zone. So, I was heartily surprised that when the pastor asked for two children to volunteer to collect the offering, First Darling was on her feet before I knew it. Then I blinked, and she was up front next to the pastor, blessing the offering. I was so thrilled! In most circumstances she is quite subdued and reserved, but she was bold in serving the Lord! Aahhhhhh....how sweet. Children truly are a blessing.

I know I am usually quite the cynic and smarty-pants, but this was precious. I hope I'll always remember it.

Now you may ask, because of the picture with this post, "did you visit a Catholic church?" I would reply, "No dear one. I just like to think of my daughter like this because the idea of her and dealing with boys growing up scares me to death!"

By-the-way: Once again I've been behind in my posts. During March every single one of us, including Darling Grandparents, got the respiratory flu. Shut up if you're wondering if we got the flu shot. So, I hope to be more diligent in my postings from now on. If anyone gets sick again, I'm checking into the Omni by myself.

Grocery Shopping Tantrum

Teasers from news shows always reel me in. "How to buy groceries for a month for as little as $100." "This mom of seven spends $50 on groceries." "Suburban mom actually makes money when she grocery shops!"

I clip coupons, I buy in bulk, and I've read every grocery shopping tips website, and our grocery bill is still close to $800 a month!

Apparently there's some pot-o-gold place to live in America where grocery stores triple coupons and have awesome sales. Not in Texas. Here it seems as if we're lucky to use a manufacturer's coupon, one per person.

Last week I did our bi-monthly shopping at our local warehouse extortioner store. I bought only necessities. Milk (three gallons), eggs (two dozen), bread (two loaves), cereal, toilet paper (36 rolls), apple juice (four gallons), etc. Okay, maybe the grapes were a splurge since it's not officially spring yet. It's a double edged sword though, because I'd rather have the kids snacking on fruits and veggies, but there so freak'in expensive. No cookies, no fruit chewies, no Cheeze-Its (much to Second Darling's dismay), and no diapers (bought them last time). When the poor, unsuspecting checker told me the total, I almost had an aneurysm. Aaaaggghhhh!!!! I didn't even have everything on my list....I still had to get some things at a traditional supermarket. $65 was just fruit and vegetables!!!!

What terrifies me to my very soul is that I hear horror stories about how much teenagers eat. Holy cow! My oldest is only nine!

My parents just smile and think I'm ranting when I talk about planting a garden because I can't keep houseplants alive and smuggling a few chickens into the backyard (for their eggs). I'm only half kidding. A few more grocery trips with $65 worth of oranges and lettuce, and you'll find my kids digging plowing up the backyard. It's about time I put them to work, anyway.

Help! I'm an emotional raisin.

Hello precious friends. It's been quite a while since my last post. I hope I haven't lost you all. Even though February is only the second month of the year, it has turned out to be my least favorite so far.

It started out well enough, but since we last met, this is what's happened: Second Darling got strep throat, we were in a car accident on the way home from her doctor's appointment because the original strep didn't clear up. The following week, the stomach flu from you-know-where hit with a vengeance. All of us had some form of it. Fourth Darling had it the worst, although Darling Man would challenge that seeing how he played chess with death and won (his words, not mine). Because she couldn't keep anything down for five days, little Fourth Darling has lost a lot of her chub. She looked so pathetic. Once that was over, finally, we thought we were in the clear. This weekend we decided to tempt fate by taking Fourth Darling to the nursery. So now she's bruised and emaciated. Who wants to place a bet?

Last week, for the first time in a month, we had some good friends over to play. Super Dog was tied up in the yard because he gets so excited and jumpy when the kids are playing. Somehow, the kids migrated to where he was tied up, playing Indians - whooping and hollering. Well, Super Dog thought our kids were in trouble, and bit (yes bit!) one of the visiting girls in the arm. Let's just say I almost had a nervous breakdown at this point. Well, one bite is enough, so Darling Man (being the grown-up in the family) decreed that Super Dog could not stay. So today, we (did I say 'we', I mean 'I') took him to the only no-kill shelter in our city. There were plenty of tears and gnashing of teeth, and the kids cried too.

Yesterday, Sunday, the breaks went out on the big green van. How classy is it to drive home from church using the emergency break? Got to love it. At least we were dressed nicely. You know what this means....a car payment is on the near horizon. The big green van is baked. The best we can hope is that someone will buy it and ship it over the border.

So, perhaps this will explain why I feel like an emotional raisin. I feel like I've had the guts sucked out of me. I would tell you that we managed to get school done despite all these "challenges," but I'd be lying through my teeth. Hopefully March will be better. I'm ready for Spring, for a cleansing, for a vacation a long, long, long way away. Don't give up on my posts. Hopefully I'll get back on track.

Let the bloodletting begin!

It finally happened. I had enough...I couldn't take the chaos any longer. I felt like it was the stuff, or me. I knew I wasn't going anywhere, so it had to be the stuff. We had consistently warned the darlings about their stuff and it's lack of tidiness. We have tried working together, but that ended up with moving crap toys from the give-a-way box to "this is my most specialist favorite animal". Pointing out that it was a beanie baby from McDonald's made no difference.

So, this past weekend, we stashed the kids at Nana's and purged. We filled a whole pick-up truck's bed with bags of clothes and toys to drop off at the donation site. This picture here is just one trip to the truck. It was frightening.

The darlings walked back to their rooms, and Darling Man and I waited in the kitchen. Wait for it....wait for it....."AAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" Yes, they realized things were different. The worst of all was that we had moved the bed. Second Darling has a "thing" for the bed. It has to be perfectly made and God-forbid if someone sits on it and creases the cover. Yet, I digress....

Just so you don't think we're totally practical heartless, we did leave some toys, stuffed and otherwise, for the kids to enjoy. We just didn't need two tons of stuffed joy. This happened Saturday, and daily so far there have been questions like, "where is yellow marker with the blackend tip and no lid?" Hmmm, let me see.......

Queen Sweeper

Her identity has been distorted to protect her privacy, but I just wanted to let you see that I've got help around the house. Yep, I start 'em young! I don't know if you can tell, but she's getting ready to put on her tiara, because doesn't every woman wear her tiara when vacuuming?

I do.

Don't worry, she was at the end of her day. She'd already scrubbed the toilets and bathed the dog.

Has it come to this?

Ughhhh. This was our lunch. Actually, it was the darlings' lunch, and unfortunately, mine too. I'm just not a spagetti-o and dino bites kind of girl. You would think that chicken scraps nuggets processed cut into dinosaur shapes would make the dinning experience more enjoyable, but alas, it did not.

The darlings were slightly more accepting of this lunch. Little Man entertained us by biting the heads off all of his dinosaurs, then letting out a maniacal laugh after each decapitation. Ha,a,a........... The dino slaughter was the only good thing I can say about the whole lunch.

Man, I need to go out. I've got to get a babysitter so Darling Man and I can go on a date. I need a margarita....a big one....Ha,a,a...........

By the way...what kind of lunatic takes a picture of her lunch?

She Said It Would Happen

Once again, I must doff my hat to my mother. Even as a teenager I can remember her telling me to write names on the back of photos because, "after a few years, you may not remember who it is." What? How could that possibly happen? - I thought in my naive hubris. Well, it happened (I hear you snickering, Mom). One of the darlings came across this picture and asked me who it is. Because I spend all my free time at the spa, Junior League, or shopping, I hadn't taken the time to write the baby's name on the back. Oh, it's Second Darling. Wait a minute, it's First Darling. Let me see that thing!

I was ashamed that I couldn't recognize the back of one of my baby's head. (In a sappy, precious way, this could have been any of my four babies). After studying the picture, I was only able to determine who it is by recognizing the groovy wood paneling behind her. This picture was taken at my parents' previous house...the one they moved from the month after Second Darling was born. Thus, logic tells me that she wouldn't be standing, so therefore it must be the First Darling. Ta-da!

So, be sure to write names on the back of your pictures...because the warnings your mom gave you do come true!

My Party Girl

Yes, dear readers. Those are panties on my daughter's head. Thank God they were from the clean laundry basket. I don't know what possessed her to put them on her head, or why she should try to lock me out of the bathroom when I saw that she had them. What has me worried is that I didn't see this kind of behavior until I was at Baylor U. sorority and frat parties....and those people were drunk! She's less than two years old, and completely sober I hope. This does not bode well.

On another note...Super Dog was almost super-dead when I saw this.....
This is $9-a-jar "Dr. Smith's Diaper Ointment." It started out as a brand new container. Yes, those are teeth marks on the lid. He chewed the lid till he was able to pop it off, then slurped up three quarters of the ointment. (By the way, Dr. Smith's is awesome stuff...for diaper rashes, not dogs). Super Dog did all this while sitting on the couch next to Little Man who was watching an afternoon cartoon. I guess he figured Super Dog knew what he was doing. I couldn't get too mad though, because this is the third jar of Dr. Smith's the dog has eaten. I never thought I'd be choosing diaper rash treatment based on what my dog wouldn't eat.

That Kind of Morning

It's only 10:30am, but it's already become "one of those" mornings. My breakfast consisted of Reece's peanut butter cups, and diet coke - not because I'm binging, but because we're out of milk for cereal, and it's time to go to the grocery store.

Darlings one and two fussed about morning cartoons, so the TV was instantly shut down. That left a grumpy cloud hanging over everyone. Before the TV was banished, Darling One and Little Man watched Darling Four empty the wipee box without flinching. I walked into the den to find a wipee-covered floor! (Do you know how much those things cost?)

So to add to the joy, I laid down the hammer and said "CLEAN UP"! So, for the past few minutes, and as I type, darlings are scurrying around picking up pieces of paper, incomplete puzzles, and anything else that is on the floor. Yes, I realize that I'm not helping them. That's the point. I've given myself a time-out...and it just happens to be on my blog. I am giddy with anticipation to tell them once they're done with their Cinderella impersonations, that it's time for school! Ha-ha-ha.......oh yea, it promises to be a day filled with sunshine and lollipops!

Public Service Announcement: Hey, you! If you haven't marked yourself on my map, please, please, please do! If you already have, thank you. I'm sure you'll be subpoenaed as witnesses when they take me away to the funny farm.

Do you have weekend plans?

I saw this video on the I,Breeder blog at newsweek.com, and laughed harder than I have in a long time. Holy cow - they're right! Listen at the end of the song for the reference to Gymboree guest passes.....too funny!!!!!

Be Afraid

This is frightening on so many levels. It makes me look at arranged marriages for my daughters in a new light.

Grammar School Car Surfing

It's taken me a while to get used to the acrobatics that Second Darling has perfected in her gymnastics class. I've quit dialing 9-1- and waiting for the last -1 while she's leaping and rolling on the balance beam. I've had plenty of lectures about brain injuries from Darling Man, so needless to say, we're not into high risk activities.

But today, my cheese almost slid off the cracker. I looked out our big glass doors to see her car surfing on the battery powered mini cars that Uncle Jack Sparrow gave the darlings for Christmas. I leaped over tall piles of laundry in a single bound, almost landing on Super Dog, as I ran for the door. Of course First Darling, who was doing the driving, was laughing her head off. (The utter fun that I'm sure this was, was not lost on me; but remember, Darling Man tells me all sorts of hospital-horror-stories.

So, between the sound of the little car running and First Darling's laughter, my screaming like a crazy person was all for naught. I was running behind the car to catch them. Remind me again, Mom, why a big back yard is such a great thing? Little Man, and Fourth Darling were harvesting pecans as they watched me get more exercise than I have in a long time. Once I got the Darlings, they quickly obeyed, and looked at me like "what's the big deal?" Nobody thanked me for saving them from certain fun doom.

After the darlings were in bed tonight, and I told this story to Darling Man, we both agreed we would have done the same thing if we had been given the chance.

The Way Many Americans See Homeschoolers