When Worlds Collide

This past weekend, the fam went to a neighboring county's fair. It was quaint, precious, packed with people, live music and full o' carnies. Having never really been to any carnival to speak of, I never noticed this niche community. I'd heard the jokes and seen caricatures on TV. Wow. Up front, let me just admit my bias....I think the carnie reputation is well deserved.

First and Second Daughters and I got on the "vomitron" or whatever the brain scrambling ride was called. I was loving the idea of having the family participate in something as American as a county fair. Loving it, until Cletus-the-slack-jawed-yokel approached to secure us into the ride. Every horror story involving carnies came to mind as soon as I saw him lumber toward us with the grace of yak. I cringed at his unkempt grooming, visible body odor, dull look in the eyes, etc., and then I was shocked and horrified to notice that his fly was down. O gawd! Now I had a decision to make. Was he the stereotypical carnie-perv, or was he "special?" Either choice did not bode well. If he was a perv, I had my two beautiful, innocent daughters sitting here, waiting for him to "belt 'em in." On the other hand, if he was "special," what the hell was he doing running a ride that potentially launch us into orbit???? I settled on the perv option. At least I could karate-cize him if necessary. I preemptively lowered the security bar over us, only making an inspection by him necessary. The whole time, as I'm almost losing consciousness over his profuse b.o, I'm praying my two naive daughters do not notice that his fly is down, and God-forbid, anything else! I still shudder at the memory. Well, we survived, and thankfully, Daughters didn't notice anything "out of place."

Quick Update

Hello Friends. It's been busy, busy, busy here. Sorry for the dry spell, but it may be awhile till I get consistent again with my posts. School is busy, the kids are always busy, and the household keeps moving and grooving! Don't think I've forgotten you...I haven't, but for now, I'm on hiatus.

And as a parting gift, I'd just like to encourage you with this lovely picture of our fearless leader. He's been called the messiah, the One; and you know you don't have to pay your mortgages any more, right? Well, I think he thinks you should just call him Mr. Cool. The way his first month has gone, I'm tempted to light up a doobie!

Hysterically Humbling

Since New Year's, the darlings have been sick in one way or another. It's a major downer. I hate the way the house feels when people are sick...it's just icky. Fourth Darling is the latest virus victim. Saturday night, it was my "turn" to stay up with her. So, all that night, we'd sleep for about forty-five minutes at a time, between crying and bouts of coughing. (FYI - it was Fourth Darling crying..not me). I gave up the dream of actually sleeping in our bed, so we ended up on the couch. The next morning, the other darlings creeped in, one by one. This is when I thank God that in our zeal to "organize" our house we didn't give up cable.

God was good. There was a Phineas & Ferb marathon on the Disney channel. (By the way, if you ever get to watch an episode of Phineas & Ferb, it's great!). I was able to put that on and then half consciously doze. I would get up every so often and drag myself to the kitchen to fill orders for juice, cereal and trail mix. My children are so brilliantly perceptive that they could sense the exact moment that my body would relax and I would find that semi-conscious nirvana, and that's when they would ask for something. It was in one of these moments, where I was actually left alone that I found myself levitated off the couch with the blood curdling scream of Little Man. I was awake, watching his lips move before my hearing kicked in. When it did, between the sobs, I heard him say "There's a peanut in my nose!" What? Surely I'm still in a stupor. Anyway, my kids are not "the kind" that stick things up their noses.

Oh contraire mon frere. To my horror and humiliation, Little Man is exactly the kind of kid who sticks peanuts up his nose. After unsuccessfully coaching him to blow it out his nose, we moved to the bathroom. I pulled out my handy-dandy instruments of torture tweezers and tried to grab the little sucker. No success. I had to then wake Darling Man who was recovering from his night-before-last duty with the sick Fourth Darling. At this time, all the sister Darlings are almost in tears thinking that Little Man's going to suck the peanut into his brain, and I'm calculating the costs of a visit to the emergency room. Just then, Darling Man seriously tells me, "Hold his head." Oh crap. What's he going to do? From somewhere, he produces a dentist's tool. You know, the one they use to clean your teeth. Doesn't everyone have one of these? I've got a death grip on the boy's head, and somehow, Darling Man produces a snotty peanut. Not as horrifyingly gross as one would think - comparatively with the other things that come out of kids' bodies. THANK GOD!

With the danger gone, it was hard not to just bust out laughing. I didn't want to make Little Man feel bad, so I held it in. Later, when I was sure I could keep a straight face, I asked Little Man why he put a peanut in his nose. Looking at me as if I had no insight at all, he told me, "Well, I wanted to see what it was like to be an elephant." Good enough. At least he had a somewhat logical reason. This proves he's not the typical little troglodyte who sticks things up his nose. ;)

So now, he has the confirmation that he is not an elephant, and I'll never buy trail mix again!

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!