Me=Lucky Girl

Today (...today, today) I consider myself (...myself, myself) the luckiest girl in the world.

I have the best friends ever! Take a little stroll over to Sanna's blog to peek at the totally awesome new purse that she made for me. I mentioned that I liked some fabric that she used on a baby dress and that it would make a really cute purse and what does she do? Only plops right down and sews me a purse, that's what! What a super cool friend she is!

Did I mention that Sanna lives in Germany? And that we've been friends for four years but we've never met in person? We're both Seppies--the name we assigned ourselves because we're friends/fans of author Susan Elizabeth Phillips--the only author for whom I would show up at a book signing wearing a princess costume. Click here and scroll down to see me with my friend and fellow Seppie, Bev, who was wearing a headless beaver costume. You'd have to read Natural Born Charmer to understand why. I met Sanna and many of my good buddies on SEP's message board. We've bonded over the years even though many of us have never met face to face.

We've supported each other through infertility, pregnancy, death of family members, illness, surgery, financial troubles, and job searches. We've provided assistance with boyfriend issues, which jeans fit best, under-eye concealer, how to buy a bra, fashion advice (that's mostly from Lanie!), TV shows and movies, makeup debates (the Bare Essentials camp is very strong over there), computer problems, cleaning tips, diet and exercise plans, how to deal with rude coworkers, baby food problems, and lots of book discussions.

They're a wonderful group of ladies and I'm blessed to have them in my life. But making me a purse and posting it overseas? That's just above and beyond the call of friendship. I'm moved beyond belief.

Oh, and it TOTALLY MATCHES my new skirt! Yay!

The Rain/Reign/Rein in Spain

My husband had the nerve to question one of my word choices recently. I know! Can you believe it? In a post a few days ago I said something about how I would try to "rein in" the cynicism. Dan said, "Shouldn't that be "reign in with a G" instead of "rein in"?

I told him that it was used correctly because I was reining in my snarkiness, as one would use the reins to "rein in" a horse that was running too fast. "Reign" refers to governing or ruling a country, so that wouldn't make sense. Right? But did he believe me? No. He wants proof.

I consulted The Eggcorn Database to answer the question, but it wasn't enough for Dan. I think it clearly supports my horsey argument, but I need more to back up my argument. I even took this BBC homophone quiz--the superstar level, I might add--which was pretty funny because those wacky British types think that "caught" and "court" actually rhyme! In the South, "caught" and "cot" rhyme and neither of them have an R in the middle.

Oh! Then today I found the following passage on page 244 of Elizabeth Hoyt's THE SERPENT PRINCE: "His lust rose, shaking his muscles, but he reined it in." See, so I must be right because Hoyt said that Simon was reining in his lust. (Don't worry, his resolve didn't last. It's a really fun book.)

I leave it to you, my faithful interpeeps, to settle this argument. Especially you, Grammar Wench and Katydid, because your knowledge of grammar knows no bounds. You both know who you are.

Give me something tangible that I can hold up for Dan's inspection. Something which will make him utter those three little words I long to hear him say...

"You were right."

And, even better, those other three little words I long to hear from him...

"I was wrong."

Chirp, chirp, chirp

This Public Service Announcement is being brought to you by the fine folks at Princess in Boyland. That would be me.

Seriously, this is a reminder for all my interpeeps to change the batteries in your smoke detectors. Most of us have never experienced a house fire so we don't believe it could ever happen to us. And you're probably right. I certainly hope you are. I don't have any statistics about the incidence of home fires because I'm much too busy (Read: too lazy) to look that up.

But there's something that I guarantee you will experience at least once in your lifetime if you don't remember to change your batteries--and I speak from experience.

I was awakened at 4:13 AM by the obnoxious chirp of the smoke detector in my bedroom, politely (snort!) reminding me that I had not changed the batteries a couple of weeks ago when I changed the clocks in my house to "spring forward" for daylight savings time. OR in autumn when we "fell back." Or, heck, when was the last time I changed those batteries?

WHY do those things always chirp in the middle of the night? Why can't they realize that the batteries are low at, say, four in the afternoon instead of morning? Luckily I could immediately tell that it was the one in my bedroom. Have you ever done the "tip-toe through the house trying to figure out which detector is chirping" thing? You stand there waiting for the chirp and then try to figure out which room it came from. Then you stand under the next one, waiting for another chirp, give up, get back in bed, start to doze off, only to hear it chirp again from some unknown location in the house.

There was no question that this one came from a few feet to the left of my head. I pulled myself out from under the extremely cozy down comforter, ripped the stupid thing (sorry, potentially lifesaving device) off the wall, yanked the big square battery out of it, and burrowed back under the duvet. Only to have the dog start barking because she knew I was awake and thought it was play time.

So, change your batteries people--every time you change your clocks (or every time I change MY clocks for all you weirdos in states that don't honor daylight savings time).

It could not only save your life, it could save your sleep!

Do They Make Frontline For Humans?

Okay guys, spring has sprung and flea and tick season is definitely here. Know how I know this? Because I was out pulling weeds Thursday morning and when I came in to use the restroom....

there was a tick on my belly!!! EUW!

See, I've always said that yard work is hazardous to my health.

Oh, and the first person who starts singing that stupid Brad Paisley song about picking ticks off me is kicked off the blog.

No blog for you! One year!

I hate ticks. Really, really hate them. I don't feel this way about all insects and creepy-crawlers. I think ladybugs are adorable, for example. I like my nine pet millipedes. I'm indifferent to spiders. I'm a former science teacher, so I could list all sorts of reasons why spiders are good for us . But I'm also a girly-girl so, while I appreciate the benefits of our little eight-legged friends, I still don't want arachnids in my house. If they come in my house I squish them. But if they're outside I leave the spiders alone. Especially the wolf spiders with their intricately designed webs.

But ticks? No way. Now I keep feeling like they're crawling all over my body. Ugh. I need another shower. Or a dose of Frontline Plus. Or both.

Lily meets Izzy

My mom got a puppy for Christmas--a tiny little parti- Pomeranian named Isabelle Noel, or Izzy for short. This week my 80 pound lab/boxer mix, Lily, got to meet Mom's 10 pound Pom for the first time. There was a lot of butt-sniffing going on, but otherwise they both acted like little ladies. Lily was so patient with this little puppy and Izzy was very kind to share her food and water with my BIG baby. At first they just sniffed each other to check each other out.

They weren't quite sure what to make of each other. Izzy probably thought, "Wow, look it's a horse." Lily was probably thinking, "Hey look, it's a rat. Can I eat it?" But they both seemed to really enjoy each other's company. Neither one of them showed any signs of aggression.

Then we let Lily off her leash and they chased each other around the room. Mom called this picture "You Can't Catch Me." But Lily is a VERY BIG dog who doesn't know quite how big she is. She accidentally stepped on Izzy once, so I put her back on the leash. When we went outside Lily would stand perfectly still while Izzy ran in circles around her, trying to get Lily to chase her. I let Lily chase Izzy a few times, but kept her on a short leash, just in case.

For the most part, a good time was had by all. Except when Lily stuck her giant head in Izzy's crate and found a lamb bone. Which she chewed with her giant doggie teeth until it splintered. Yeah, like I need a big vet bill this week to remove the shards from her intestines! Luckily she seems to be okay. Just look how big and scary Lily's teeth are in the next picture. Mom called it "What Big Teeth You Have." Good thing she's such a sweet dog!

Dubious Praise

Well, now I can die a happy woman. My favorite author, my hero(ine), NYT best-selling author, and an all-around really nice lady, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, said this about me yesterday:

Okay, Teble. That gets my vote for the single funniest post anyone has ever put on this BB. Lil Sis even had to email me about it. My laugh for the day!

All because another bulletin board member said that she was grateful she woke up in time for work Monday because she drank too much wine at Easter dinner. And I said, "Because nothing says 'Jesus is Alive' like getting sh*t-faced on Easter Sunday," complete with an emoticon slamming back a brewskie.

I'm such a nerd--I feel like jumping up and down saying, "You like me, you really like me," but that's been done.

Thanks, Susan. I'll try to rein in the cynicism a little more. Nah, forget it. Never gonna happen.

What color is Wednesday?

Is this a right-brained thing? Mom will probably score really high on this one. Answer each question honestly, but keep an open mind. This is one of the strangest quizzes I've done.

73%

My New Crush

Have ya'll seen my new boyfriend? He is a pretty, pretty man. This post is sure to upset my husband, but he's going to have to get over it. After all, HE is the one who went out of town for five days and LEFT HIS WEDDING RING AT HOME, so I'm completely justified in bragging about my new crush. Can I get an amen?

Anyway, celebrity crushes are totally safe because, 1) The celeb is someone you'll never, ever meet in real life. It's not quite the same as developing a crush on, say, the guy at the Qwik Sak who gives me my beloved vanilla diet Coke, because he might be attainable. If only he had teeth. 2) Even if, by some miracle, you actually met this person he/she would not notice you, the crushee, and 3) If, by a really giant miracle, said celeb actually noticed you and talked to you, you still wouldn't stand a chance with them so there's NO RISK that adultery will occur.

Besides all that, I'm madly in love with my husband so that usurps any and all risk. So relax, Dan.

But, day-um, Jason Taylor is a slammin' hottie. I love me some shiny-headed bald guy. And, let's be honest, I'm sure it's no hardship for Dan to look at Edyta either, so we're even. I wish I had Edyta's body. No, not in that way, the way my husband wishes he had her body, I wish my body looked like hers. You could bounce a quarter off those abs. By the way, she's married and so is Jason. Just so you know.

I confess, I had never heard of Jason Taylor until last night, even though he was the NFL Man of the Year, because I'm not a Dolphins fan. Or any sort of football fan. Well, that's not really putting it strongly enough--I have absolutely ZERO interest in football on any level: Pro, college, high school, Peewee league, any of it. Yuck.

But, yowza, can that man dance! He glides across the floor. When he moves, it's like buttah. I don't know much about the foxtrot or the mambo, but he looked pretty freakin incredible to me.

So, who's your celebrity crush?

Friendly Neighborhood Spidermom

In honor of my children, I'm posting my results of the "Which Superhero Are You?" quiz. They'll be so proud of their mama, or should I say their Friendly Neighborhood Spidermom. Because of the, you know, radioactive blood. If only it could cure migraines.

Although, I have to say it, I'd rather be Wonder Woman or Catwoman because of the cool costumes. But I'd never be able to pull off WW's push-up bra and bare midriff. Sigh.

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 85% Hulk 75% Robin 65% Wonder Woman 60% The Flash 60% Superman 60% Green Lantern 55% Iron Man 55% Supergirl 55% Batman 45% Catwoman 40%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Quiz

Easter Wisdom

I was all set to do a really profound, reverent, serious Easter post today because, you know, I serve a risen savior, he's in the world today and all that. But then I remembered that I'm just not that girl. Yes, I love the Lord and stuff, but this is just not a serious blog. There are lots of Christian mommy bloggers out there who already do that shtick and do it well so I'm not going to be one of them. However, I have some really great Easter tips and tutorial for all my interpeeps on this fine (COLD!) resurrection Sunday.

First, I love when people ask me obscure questions that I actually know the answer to (even when I have to parenthesize to avoid ending a sentence in a preposition, like now). My brain, she is chock full of useless trivia that's just dying to come out, if only people will ask the right questions. Which Lana did today while we were teaching Threes at church. I made some comment about how all our little girls were freezing in their strappy little pastel dresses today since Easter was so early this year. And Lana said, "Yeah, it is really early this year. I wonder how they decide when Easter will be."

And ya'll, I was practically jumping up and down waving my arms in the air saying, "I know! I know!" Practically or, you know, actually doing it. Whatever.

Anyway, I told her that Easter falls on the first Sunday after the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox because I KNEW THAT. She looked at me blankly for a minute like I was some kind of freak and said, "What's a vernal equinox?" I said, "The first day of spring." She continued to stare at me until I said, "Yeah. I know a lot of weird things. Easter can fall anywhere between March 22 and April 25, because it's based on the old pagan lunar calendar. Yes, I'm a geek. Your point was?"

But the best Easter information of all came from a most unlikely source...the cashier at the Daily's Qwik Sak where I stopped this morning on the way to church to pick up my gigantic 112 ounce vanilla diet Coke (and then had to run to the Ladies all through church). Now, I've been to a lot of churches--Mom was Catholic, Dad was Methodist, we attended a Cumberland Presbyterian church when I was growing up, I used to be the preschool pastor at a Nazarene church, and now we attend a Baptist church--but I've never before heard the advice I'm about to share with you in any of those churches.

Just the Sacred Holy Church of Qwik Sak. You might want to take notes.

The middle-aged female cashier was nagging the young teenage male cashier to take his Easter basket with him because, (ya'll I'm not kiddding, she really said this) "You'll break wind in church if you don't have an Easter basket."

So here's hoping everyone has a wonderful, windless first Sunday following the first full moon on or after the vernal equinox. Or, in other words, a fart-free Easter.

Lucy's Visit

Yesterday while Dan was mowing the grass a little girl trotted up to him and said Hi. This little girl-------------------------------->

She followed him all over the yard, trotting happily behind him. He finally brought her to the door to meet us. The boys were ecstatic. Lily was so excited to have a play buddy. We knew this dog belonged to someone because she didn't want the food we offered her and she wasn't scared of any of us--even Lily, 80 pounds of over-eager wild animal. We were willing to keep her, but I knew she had a family somewhere who was missing her. I called Grace to see if she knew where the little sweetie belonged.

The "New Dog," as we called her, stayed with us for a couple of hours. She played with the boys in the backyard, wandered around the kitchen with Lily, and won the boys' hearts. Lily was more than happy to share her food and water dish, her crate, her people. She loved having a little friend along to play with. There was a lot of booty-sniffing going on. Then Grace called to tell us who the dog's owners are. They drove over to pick her up just as Grace and the girls arrived to take her home.

Lucy, as her owners call her, is happy to be back home. Of course, now our boys are lobbying for another dog. And Lily would be too, if she knew how to talk. Lucy was awfully cute...

But Lily is enough dog for any family to handle. She's a big, humongous bundle of furry, crazy beast. But she's all ours.

Friggin' Bradford Pears

Spring has sprung...and brought the Bradford Pears with it.

These trees are the bane of my existence every spring. Why, you ask? But they're so lovely with their cute little white flowers. Well, I'll tell you--

I have four of these suckers on my property and they're all over my neighborhood. I am allergic to them and there's not enough Claritin in the world to combat it. Now my eyes are swollen shut and itching like crazy. My nose is congested. My throat itches. I have a terrible headache. They shed their flowers all over the driveway and make it look like snow. And that's not even the worst of my complaints about the trees. Nuh uh.

They stink like the worst B.O. you could ever imagine.

And not just any B.O. either. No sir. This is a very fish-smelling B.O. Like you'd expect to find at the skankiest whorehouse in the worst part of the most down-trodden city after payday near a marina at three in the morning on the hottest day of the year. It is foul.

Don't let their sweet appearance fool you. These trees are from the very depths of hell. They are Satan's flowering handmaidens. In short, they stank.

Go here to read more about them...if you dare. Just don't ever buy one if you know what's good for your nose.

Easter Funnies

Q. What does it mean when the Easter Bunny arrives one day late with melted candy?
A. He probably had a bad hare day.

Q. What do you get when you pour boiling hot water down a rabbit hole?
A. Hot cross bunnies!

Q. What does it mean when you see thirty rabbits in a row and they are all marching backwards?
A. What you have is a receding hareline.

Q. What can rabbits have that no other animal can have?
A. Baby rabbits.

Q. Which side of a rabbit has the most fur?
A. The outside.

Q. What is the difference between a new-age rabbit that is
preparing for the future and one that is getting ready for
dinner?
A. The first rabbit will visualize world peace. The second
rabbit will visualize whirled peas.

What's In A Name?

Teble is my real name on my birth certificate. Honestly. It rhymes with pebble, even though it only has one B. A lot of people ask me where I got my name. I usually tell them that my parents dropped WAY too much acid in the sixties.

There's actually a story, but it's nowhere near as funny as the acid thing. They got it from a movie, but they got the name wrong because the character had an accent and my parents didn't hear it correctly (or something like that) and then they didn't spell it right phonetically. So, there you go. Drugs? I'm thinking that's a definite possibility.

Here's what the "What your name says about you" folks have to say about it. Tell me if you think they're right. Or if my parents were major hippies.

What Teble Ann Brewer Means

T is for Trendy E is for Exuberant B is for Bubbly L is for Lovesick E is for Emotional A is for Altruistic N is for Normal N is for Naughty B is for Bewitching R is for Responsible E is for Extraordinary W is for Wacky E is for Extraordinary R is for Relaxed

What Does Your Name Mean?

Interview Update

Thanks for those of you who emailed, called, or stopped me at work today to tell me good luck on my job interview. I managed to reign in the crazy for twenty minutes and NOT foam at the mouth during the interview, so I'm going to call it a success.

No, really, it went fine. The principal and assistant principal are lovely people and I enjoyed talking to them. He's already filled four of the six available spots so the competition is intense. I don't know what will happen, but I was glad for the opportunity to talk to him.

Afterwards, we celebrated by taking the boys out to Chili's where I completely blew the diet by eating half of a boneless buffalo chicken salad. Oh just yum. Then we went to Kohl's to buy some way cute dressy outfits for the boys to wear at Grandma's church Easter Sunday. Where they will be singing!! I'll try to post pictures before they leave town.

Tomorrow night Seven has a dinner/play date at Chick-Fil-A with his girlfriend. Ten and the girlfriend's two year old brother, affectionately referred to as "Baby Monster," will be along to chaperone. I'm just glad I don't have to cook--two nights in a row!

What Kind of Punctuation Mark Are You?

My friend Kathy sent me a link to the What Kind of Punctuation Mark Are You? quiz. Which is just SO appropriate coming from her. As were my results. This will come as no surprise to many of you, but I'm an exclamation mark. Read the description below and I'm sure you'll agree with their interpretation of me. Click the link at the end to take the quiz yourself.

You Are An Exclamation Point

You are a bundle of... well, something. You're often a bundle of joy, passion, or drama. You're loud, brash, and outgoing. If you think it, you say it. Definitely not the quiet type, you really don't keep a lot to yourself. You're lively and inspiring. People love to be around your energy. (But they do secretly worry that you'll spill their secrets without even realizing it.) You excel in: Public speaking You get along best with: the Dash

What Punctuation Mark Are You?

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

My friend Holli sent me these St. Patrick's
Day funnies:

What do you get if you cross a four-leaf
clover with poison oak?
A rash of good luck.



What do you get when you cross a pillowcase
with a stone?
A Sham Rock.


Why did St. Patrick drive all the snakes out of Ireland?
He couldn't afford plane fare.

Why should you never iron a 4-leaf clover?
You don't want to press your luck.

What do you call an Irishman who keeps bouncing off walls?
Rick O'Shea.

Why can't you borrow money from a leprechaun?
Because they're always a little short.

Wacky Mushroom Trips?

I've been exhausted for a week. I was blaming it on the Spring Forward time change, but now I know it's something else entirely. I've been falling asleep really early, only to wake up in the middle of the night unable to fall back to sleep. I've also been having these totally trippy psychedelic dreams all week. Here's just a small sampling of those dreams, the ones I can remember:

1) My husband put in a bid on a two million dollar lake front home. Yeah. Because that's the kind of house we can afford on my salary teaching preschool part time and his considerably larger--but not that large--salary managing a retail store. This house was down the street from my parents' house and, get this, the seller--an artist--offered to custom paint the boys' rooms for me before we moved in.

2) My youngest child was left behind on a field trip to downtown Nashville. And I was one of the chaperones.

3) I went to my job interview for a teaching position but the principal said I was overqualified and offered to step aside so I could have his job. HA!

4) This is my personal favorite. We were back at my grandparents' old house--where they haven't lived for nearly fifteen years--for Christmas. My dad called me over to look out the window that overlooks the driveway to show me my present. He'd bought me a motorcycle so that I could save on fuel since gas prices are so high.

Yeah. It gets better.

He'd gotten a really good deal on my bike--a two-for-one deal in fact--and bought himself a matching bike. There was a pink camouflage helmet hanging from the handlebars on mine. I looked at him and said, "Um, Dad? That's great and I love the helmet and everything, but...where are my kids supposed to ride?" I never get to go anywhere without my children, so this just struck me as hilarious and I started to laugh. Dad got his feelings hurt and stomped off. He refused to speak to me, or even look at me, for the rest of the day.

No, I haven't been drinking battery acid or eating wild mushrooms or smoking the wacky tobacky this week. Or, you know, EVER. I haven't even eaten anything spicy. I started tracing back through the week, trying to think of anything I've been doing differently. And then I remembered that I bought some new multivitamins and started taking them last weekend. I got the One A Day Weight Smart Advanced vitamins, thinking that it would help with my diet while providing all my nutrient needs. In an oval at the top of the label it says, "With Energy Support." I knew that they have guarana, green tea powder, cayenne pepper powder and all sorts of vitamins and minerals in them, but have you guessed what else they have?

Yep, caffeine. In fact, right under the ingredients in tiny bold print it says, "This product contains about as much caffeine as a cup of coffee." Well, DUH! No wonder it wakes me up in the middle of the night and makes me have weird, hallucinogenic dreams. It also contains soy, which means I probably shouldn't be taking it because of my thyroid condition.

Who knew that one little green vitamin could cause so much trouble. But maybe if I took the principal's job I could afford that two million dollar house? No, I'd probably get fired for leaving a child behind. And for strapping my kids to the back of my hog on my way to work.

Sigh. That helmet would've been cool.

Hey Jude, toddler style

Oh. My. Gosh. Ya'll know what huge Beatles fans we are here at Casa de Princess, right? Well, wait 'til you see what I just found at my friend Trish's blog. This is the coolest kid ever. I mean, my kids are pretty stinkin' talented, but you've just gotta see this toddler singing Hey Jude. Once I got over my fear that the little tyke would fall off the couch or smash the guitar into the wall (doesn't happen, just so you know) I loved this performance. Make linky and go check it out.

It's a Small World

Now you all have that song stuck in your head, don't you? Hee hee. Insert maniacal laughter here.

I've got North America covered today. First I had a phone pitch with an editor from Harlequin in Toronto. For those of you who are geographically challenged, that's in Canada. Ontario, to be exact. The pitch was fine, the editor was lovely--such a nice person, and she requested a partial (that means my first three chapters).

Then I went to get a haircut with my stylist, who is from Mexico. She's also a lovely lady and she does great hair. When she doesn't listen to her client, that is. I asked for bangs. I could tell she didn't think that was a wise decision, but I don't speak Spanish and her English is somewhat limited so she just frowned and clucked over me. It looks okay, but not as pretty as it usually does when I tell her, "Do whatever you want, my head is in your hands." I also had her wax my eyebrows so I can go to my job interview without a unibrow.

Then, just to make my day even further multicultural, I took myself out to lunch at Pei Wei. I LOVE their fried rice with tofu and vegetables. YUM! Oh, and my fortune cookie read, "Everyone feels lucky for having you as a friend." Aww, ain't that sweet?

Then I got home and checked in with my friends over at Susan's message board--friends from lots of other countries. More Canadians (I'm talking aboot you, eh?), friends from Germany, New Zealand, the Philippines, Slovenia, and Malta, just to name a few.

Leave me a comment and tell me where you're from. I'm glad it's a small world so I can chat with my buddies from other places.

I wish that darn song wasn't so annoying. Now I'm going to be singing it all day. It's the worst earworm ever.

For What I'm Worth

You've all heard the expression, "over my dead body." Well, just in case you were wondering what my dead body is actually worth...


$5075.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

When it Rains....

Um, the sun is shining but at my house it's pouring. So, let's see what I have going on this week...

Not much, really. Just a phone pitch to an editor from Harlequin in Toronto on Friday morning. You know, NO BIG DEAL. Because I'm cool and calm and collected while speaking to someone with the potential to buy my books and give me money and ask me to write more of them. Yeah, right.

Oh, and then? Next Tuesday? Yeah, just a little thing called a JOB INTERVIEW! One of those things I haven't done in about a hundred and seventy million years! At least that's how it feels. I'm so old dinosaurs are asking me what it was like around here when I was a wee little lassie. My license is still "officially" expired until I update it, my transcripts are nowhere to be found but wherever they are my NTE scores are with them, my resume looks like it was designed by a reasonably intelligent kindergartener, and my "highly qualified" status is, well, not until my license is updated.

In short, please pray for me.

***Update to add--I just received my scores for my class, so I can mail out my license renewal application tomorrow. I made an A. Duh. I knew I would but I still stressed over it because I'm a major nerd. My final score was 98.76 out of 100. So, yay me.

No Need for a Maternity Test

So does this kid look like me or what?
This is me in Kindergarten and Seven back when we still called him Five. I have another picture of him that actually looks even more like me because Seven was smiling, but I can't post it because my scanner doesn't work.

My BIG little boy

This really hit me hard last night as I was putting away my shoes. Those are mine, on the right. Ten's are on the left. Notice how they're almost the same size?! ARGH!

I did NOT give this child permission to become a young man so soon!

Last week I needed a lightweight jacket to wear to school but I was too lazy to go upstairs to get one out of my closet. So I grabbed Ten's and asked if I could borrow it. AND IT FIT. I don't know which one of us was more surprised.

When I'm picking his clothes off the floor (or fussing at him to do it), reminding him to close his mouth when he chews, or nagging him to brush his teeth, I have a hard time remembering that in less than six years he'll be old enough to get a driver's license. Then I see something like that picture and it slams home the idea that my little boy isn't so little anymore.

Totally immature, maybe, but not so little.

Assorted Sunday Stuff

1) The same site that has the spelling test has some other fun ones too, like How Many Colors Can You Name in Five Minutes? and How Many Countries Can You Name in Five Minutes? and something about how many five year olds you can beat up. Too much fun.

2) Why does almost every frozen diet meal in the universe contain those awful, soggy, yucky red peppers? Just because I'm watching my fat and sugar and carbs intake doesn't mean I want to live on red peppers. Euw.

3) Is anybody else as excited about the economy stimulus package as I am? Well maybe Dan because it gives him the perfect opportunity to say something obscene like, "Hey baby, you can stimulate my package any time." Perv. Of course the credit card company, the life insurance policy, and the water heater payment plan have already spoken up and said they would like that money, thank you very much.

4) My online class officially ends tonight at midnight. The prof gave us two extra days because of problems with the server, but I turned in all my work on Friday because I'm a nerd. Now I'm just waiting for my grades. Then I can send in my transcripts and get my teaching license renewed and be legal again! YAY!

5) We had a parent/teacher conference with Ten's teacher Thursday afternoon and she says he's doing great. I mean, yeah, we knew his grades were great--you can't get much better than straight As--but we wanted to know about his behavior. He's doing fine. Phew. Big sigh of relief.

6) How long can one stomach virus last? Geez. Poor Seven's tummy has been bothering him since February 22nd. Just when we think he's over it, he becomes a candidate for Immodium again. Poor baby. At least he's not throwing up.

7) I have the happiest butt in the middle TN area. I have a wonderful new black microfiber manager chair from Staples. You know, now that my class has ended and I don't have to spend HOURS every night sitting at the computer doing homework. No, now I can spend hours at the computer reading blogs and playing Spider Solitaire. In cozy, plush, padded comfort.

8) Dan and the kids and I have been in the studio all day working on something. I'll attempt to post it here soon. hee hee, I love surprises.

9) After seventeen years of marriage, my husband still doesn't understand my obsession with school/office supplies. I bought myself a pack of ultra-fine point pens in a variety of colors (including a really cool PINK!) at Staples last night. I went to get a pen later and there was one missing from the pack! Dan had taken one out of the pack (the black one, but still!), away from its family, and absconded upstairs with it. I know! Then he had the nerve to wonder why I was upset about it. Can you imagine? He's driven me to using italics! Good thing I hid my Sharpies!

10) I'm proud to say that I've now reset every clock in the house and the one in my car. Am I on the ball or what?

Spell Check

I Scored a 100%!

Color Blind

Seven is color blind. Not in the sense that he can't identify colors, just that he can't differentiate skin color. And I LOVE that about him.

Last month at school his class studied heroes in Black History. Seven did a report about Thurgood Marshall. He learned a lot about Martin Luther King, Jr. and has been talking about him constantly. He told me, "I'm glad Dr. King fought for civil rights because if he didn't do that I probably wouldn't be able to go to school with some of my friends who are black, like..." and he named five kids in his class. Two are African-American, one is white, one is from India, and one is from Laos.

I looked at him and said, "Honey, not all of the kids you listed are black." I talked about each child and what their ethnicity is. He looked at me, very confused, and said, "Well then how can you tell whether someone is black or not?" He'd never heard the term "black" used before in reference to people. He'd describe his friend as, "You know, the boy with the brown skin and black hair."

Seven informed me, "They used to call them 'colored people' and have separate bathrooms and water fountains and everything. I think that's dumb because we're all 'colored people.' See, (pulling his sleeve up and showing me his arm) I'm peach-colored."

Today I ate lunch with him at school and he told me all about Ruby Bridges and how "the judge said there shouldn't be a black school and a white school, but they should all go to the same school so she became the first one to go to an all-white school." He said "people threatened her just because her skin was darker than her classmates and that marshals had to go to school with her to keep her safe." He said, "Mommy, did you know parents were so dumb that they wouldn't let their kids be in her class because she was black, so she had to be in a class all by herself?"

He told me, "One time her lips were moving and someone asked why she was talking to those mean people. And she said, 'I wasn't talking to them--I was praying for them.' She said that she prayed for them because Jesus prayed for the people who were mean to him so she did too. Mommy, she was a real hero."

I think Seven is a hero too.

19th Nervous Breakdown

Oh, so THIS is what an anxiety attack feels like! I can't get my heart to stop racing and I'm a nervous wreck. I'm thinking of taking up heavy drinking for the rest of the weekend.

So tomorrow is the last day of my online class and all three of the big projects are due. TOMORROW! I've finished writing everything but I'm too freaked out to upload it all. I keep reading and rereading my work trying to find ways to improve it. Normally I wouldn't worry so much about it and would just upload it and brush my hands together and go mix a margarita to celebrate being finished, but I just can't relax. Nope, not in my vocabulary.

I am OBSESSED with my grades. Last week my instructor (whom I admire and respect and wanna be when I grow up) took 0.05 off my score (for those of you keeping score at home, that's five-hundredths of a point!) because I didn't cite a reference. Okay, I can respect that. It's a valid reason for a deduction. No big deal--at least it wouldn't be for a sane person. Then, this week, I discovered that she took off 0.1 point (one tenth of a point) without telling me why and I am completely incapable of letting it go. What the heck is wrong with me? Don't answer that. Just pass the tequila.

I've been driving myself crazy, trying desperately to think of what I could've done wrong because all of the prof's comments were positive. If you're taking something off, shouldn't there be a reason for it? I'm semi-okay with the 0.05 reduction because there was a valid reason for it. I'm sure there's a valid reason for the 0.1 reduction too, and it really shouldn't matter AT ALL because I still have an A, but I'm not going to be able to sleep until I know why. Because, yes, I'm just that crazy.

Earlier this week Dan called me over to the couch, mid-meltdown, and said with his arms wide and a smile on his face, "Come over here and let me hug you, my cute little over-achieving nerd girl."

He better be careful. I know where he sleeps. Or at least where he used to sleep. Hope the couch is comfy.

I wasn't always such a perfectionist. Okay, yes, I probably was. Just ask my college roommate. But I didn't get so freaked out about it that my stomach hurt. Or maybe I did and I just don't remember. Or maybe I'm too old to be taking these classes. I did my best work and I should just upload it and be done with it and then go celebrate with a drink, right? Right. That's just what I'll do.

Right after I proofread it one more time....

Post Target Depression

My SuperTarget finally opened yesterday! Yay! And I totally lifted that picture from Ashley's blog because my picture was way too blurry, since I was DRIVING at the time I took it. :-)

The kids and I went to check it out today after school. They had a hush-hush soft opening because the grand opening is this weekend so it wasn't very busy. In fact, most of the people I ran into there were people I know! I finally used up all the gift cards left from Christmas. Naturally, when I got home there was a $5 off card in my mail! ARGH! Then when I looked at everything we bought there was only one thing for me! A lip gloss. And I don't even like the color now that I have it on. Grumble, grumble. I'm going to have to do better next time. I'm suffering from post Target depression.

I think I was just so excited that my Target finally opened that the reality of shopping there was kind of a let-down. Like when you're a kid and you wait so long for Christmas and then by noon on Christmas Day you're depressed because all the presents are open and now you have to wait a whole year until you can do it again. Only, I don't have to wait a year. I can go there again tomorrow if I want.

In fact, maybe I will.

Trivial (very important) Details

Seven is home sick from school today because he decided that 3:25 AM would be a really great time to throw up in his bed. Then, just for good measure, the hallway and bathroom carpet, and all over his toilet.

***Digression: WHO was the idiot that thought CARPET would be a great idea in all three bathrooms in my house? We ripped out the carpet and tiled the downstairs bathroom a few years ago and I can't wait to do the same upstairs.***

I didn't sleep a lot last night anyway because Dan was working very late at the store. I stayed up 'til midnight, woke again at about 2:00 when he got home and the alarm went off, then again when he finally crawled into bed at 3:00. So imagine my surprise when I heard a little voice right next to my head say, "Mommy, I think something I ate for dinner didn't agree with me because I just threw up." I never even heard him come in.

Dan and I got up and cleaned the carpet and the toilet, tucked Seven in on the couch with an empty trash can, and were on our way back to bed when Seven said in his tiny, I'm sweet and pitiful voice, "Daddy? Will you please sleep with me? I think there's some room here on this couch with me." So, of course Dan did (on the FLOOR next to the couch) because he's a great dad.

I worked a half day today while Dan stayed home with him this morning. Since I got home we've been playing video games. Oh. My. Gosh. I'd forgotten how much fun Super Mario Brothers is! Seven and I are playing along when I made my little Mario dude jump and bust up some bricks to get to a secret coin stash hidden in the wall. Seven said, "Mommy, how did you know that was there?" How, indeed. I haven't played that game in twenty-something years. Some tiny video game segment of my brain has been storing that trivial bit of information all these years. Is that a right-brained or a left-brained thing? I wonder what really important thing I've forgotten because I was using brain space to remember details like that? I paid the credit card bill late because my brain wouldn't let go of that vitally important Mario fact.

It did impress my kid, though, so maybe it was worth the finance charge.

Grama is DA BOMB

We spent the day at my mom's house yesterday. The boys played outside in the wonderfully mild weather while I chained myself to Mom's computer and did homework. My mom wears so many hats in her role as Grama. Here are just a few jobs she performed yesterday...

Grama as dentist: Seven lost his other front tooth yesterday because my mom yanked it out of his mouth. It was really loose but he couldn't get it out. And he wouldn't let me try to pull it because he said it would hurt. Mom said, "Let Grama try," and he said, "Okay!" because apparently she's WAY more trustworthy than I am. She pulled it out and he said, "That didn't hurt at all." Oh sure, because GRAMA can do anything. Where was Grama at 5:41 AM when I realized that I'd never put any money out from the tooth fairy? I had to crawl out of bed and dig for change in Dan's junk drawer (in the dark!), and then tiptoe in there to make the tooth/coin swap.

Grama as source of all things: I needed a new tank for the froggies because I was overcrowding the little darlings. They're supposed to have one gallon of water PER FROG and I had all six frogs in a little carrier tank that's about 3/4 of a gallon. At one time or another my mom has had approximately 317 fish tanks, so we went up there to scrounge around in the storage building. Sure enough, we found a ten gallon tank with the lid and light attachment. We also found a complete set-up for a hamster, but I'm not telling the boys about that one.

Grama as junk food provider: The boys had Happy Meals and chocolate and Gatorade and juice boxes and everything else a little boy could want at Grama's house. Ten discovered that he hates dark chocolate but Seven loves it. Smart boy, that one.

Grama as nature guide: She took Seven on a nature hunt. She helped Ten and his cousin make a teepee. She took the boys all through the woods and showed them how to identify deer tracks and even found some deer poop which they thought was awesome.

Grama as all-around cool person: She bought the boys a video game thing with about 7,600 games on it (and I really don't think that's an exaggeration). Seven is obsessed with it. We're going to have to find him a 12-step program for video game addicts. She gave me a frog pillow/foot rest/massager thingy to keep my feet toasty when I'm at the computer. She gave me a hand-me-down jacket from my 13-year-old nephew that is really cool. She played with my kids so I could get my homework done.

In short, Grama rocks.