Sunday, September 28, 2008
Then, fast forward to Friday night at the birthday bash. Mom and I were both talking about the quality of the pizza. We bought the "3 medium for $15" deal and were disappointed with the results. They use a different crust to be able to sell it for that price.
Mom and I looked at each other and said, (in unison, in stereo, completely in sync with each other without even trying),"I like the Pan Pizza better."
We laughed at our "Jinx, buy me a Coke," moment and then made it worse by adding (also in stereo), "Because it's greasier." We even made the exact same hand gesture to indicate the greasiness of the pie. Let me tell you, it was an eerie moment for both of us.
This morning it really hit home how much I'm turning into my mom. For the first two weeks we stayed at Mom's house, I kept missing the trash can when I'd throw something away in the bathroom because Mom's waste basket is to the right of the toilet. At home we keep the trash can to the left of the toilet. Today, at my own house, I dropped a tissue on the floor. To the right of the toilet. Missing the waste basket entirely.
AAAAHHHHHH! I've become brainwashed.
But, since my Mom is one of the best people I know, that's not entirely a bad thing.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Digression #1: If you ever invite S over to your house, do NOT let him eat hot dogs first. Dear Lord in Heaven, that child can fart. At least Mom won't need to buy any roach killer for the next few weeks. S took care of the fumigating for her.
They sprayed each other with insect repellent and explored the woods. J found a whip and tried to swing from a branch á la Indiana Jones. They picked berries and grass and added creek water to make "secret magic potions" in little jars. They swung in the hammock as if it were some kind of challenge course on Wipeout and tried to get each other to fall off the side. They talked too loud, ran through the house like bulls in a china shop, and generally wreaked havoc wherever they went.
You know...little boy stuff.
So here we were with a stack of pizzas and a house full of sweaty little testosterone-laden fart machines.
Digression #2: Pizza has the same effect on S as hot dogs.
Digression #3: Pizza also has that effect on my dog when little boys and their Grama feed her pizza. Trust me on this.
It was time for Eleven to open his presents and Mom suggested that perhaps she should open them and keep them for herself.
Eleven said, "No way, Grama. You're too old."
We all laughed and reacted with varying degrees of "Oh no he di'int!"
Then Eleven dug the grave a little deeper and said, "Well, I guess you could have a present, but only if it was something like a cushion."
At this point we're not sure if he'll make to to be Twelve.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
No, I'm talking about my job. Or NOT talking actually.
Oh, the things I would say if only I could. I'm dying to go off on a full-blown rant, but I can't say anything. Since this blog address is my own name (why did I do that anyway?) my tongue has to remain tied. Too many people who shouldn't know what I really think might stumble on this and I'd be toast. I can't come here when I have a bad day and tell you all about it. Those of you who know me IRL know that silence is not my thing, so you know how much this is killing me.
But just know that...if I could talk? There would be blisters all over your screen right now.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Dan and the boys and I went to our dear friends' house Saturday night to play with their Wii system. Oh. My. Gosh. We must have one. Soon. I've never had so much fun feeling completely awkward and making a total fool of myself.
I'm pretty sure I pulled an abdominal muscle laughing my you-know-what off watching Dan get pummeled by panda heads in the soccer game. I tried it too, but I couldn't stop laughing long enough to concentrate on the cleats and panda heads hitting me in the face.
We had a cut-throat game of bowling, too. Due to a career-ending bug in the eye injury, I came in last place, but it was a respectable showing. Grace and Brian were kicking our booties, but a good time was had by all.
We even let the kids play a few games. Because we're givers.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
I cannot believe you're eleven years old. It seems like just ten minutes ago that you were trying your level best to make sure that I never slept for more than ten minutes at a time. Ever. That's not really an exaggeration. When you were a baby, I drove and drove and drove around town because the only time you ever slept was in a moving vehicle. I even took a nap in the Kroger parking lot once. You logged a lot of frequent flier miles sleeping in your swing next to the couch so I could catch a few Zs.
I spent the first three years of your life wandering around in a sleepy fog. I enrolled you in Mother's Day Out when you were two, just so I could get a nap. You'd wake up at 5:00 every morning, raring to go. Then I'd put you in the car to drive to MDO (which started at 9:00) and you'd fall asleep in the car on the way there. I'd turn around and drive back home, figuring that you'd have a really bad day if I woke you up to go to school, only to have you wake up on the transfer from the car seat to the house. You'd be ready to party and I'd be yawning my head off. Then I'd turn around and drive back to school to drop your butt off.
I finally got to the point where you'd fall asleep in the car and I'd pull into the garage, leave you asleep in the car, and leave the door to the house open so I'd hear you when you woke up. Which you always did--way too soon.
Now that you're eleven, you still avoid sleep whenever possible. You hit the ground running first thing in the morning and keep going until you fall down late into the evening. Daddy and I call you the Energizer Bunny. It's often exhausting to spend time with you, but we're insanely jealous of your energy level.
You're one of the smartest, sweetest, funniest, most talented and kind-hearted kids I know and I'm so proud to call you my son.
Happy Birthday, Eleven.
Wow, who knew that my lil ol' blog could launch such vitriol? Hee hee. Honestly, I hate election years. I hate negative ads. I hate most politicians because, if you're in a position to run for a national office, there have to be more than a few skeletions in your closet and greased palms in your past because that's how people get to the national level. There's not an honest politician out there anywhere, so I end up picking the lesser of two evils in every election. Every time. I hate the whole mess. Plus Dan and Mom are hogging the TV to watch this stuff when I'd rather just watch decorating shows on HGTV. Deep as a parking lot puddle, that's me.
Hey, if you're looking for deep, philosophical, political debate then, sadly, you've come to the wrong place. Usually I just talk about shoes, desserts, kids, dogs, and fart jokes. But every once in a while something will set me off (cough, Heather Mallick, cough) and I'll have to talk about it. Not in an MSNBC/Fox News sort of way, but more of an online journal these are my opinions and they're not worth crap to anyone but me kind of way. If we want to get down and dirty and debate, that's fine too, but be brave enough to leave your name instead of an anonymous comment. I'm 99% certain that anyone commenting on this blog is a friend of mine, (otherwise why would you be here?) so I won't attack the anonymous person. I think I know who it is and I love her, no matter which political party she sides with. I'll just say: if you're going to put your big girl opinion out there, attach your name to it. Love you. Bless your heart.
More later when I'm not mouse-impaired.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
My vice presidential candidate is hotter than your VP.
(So I guess you know I'm not talking about Joe Biden. )
Heather Mallick is a big old skanky 'ho. She should have her press card shredded and stuffed down her big fat throat. She's a pig who should keep her very biased and partisan opinion to her skanky 'ho self. At least she doesn't generalize an entire state as "a bunch of drunks and crazy people." Oh, no wait. She did. Stupid tramp.
Sarah Palin is Tina Fey's long lost twin. Only Palin's a tiny bit feistier.
Hey, Martha Stewart! Her name is Sarah, not Sharon. Duh.
Okay, I'm done now. For the moment, anyway. The last time we had an election this crazy I was pregnant.
I heart Sarah and John.
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Mom is still recovering well. She goes back to the doctor tomorrow to see if she's doing as well as we think she is. She's doing too much, as usual, but most of that is my fault since I was crazy busy with my evaluation this week.
We're gearing up for Ten's birthday next Monday. I can't believe I'm going to have to start calling him Eleven. ARGH. Wasn't he just born about ten minutes ago?
I just bought a pair of Levi's on sale at Ross for $7.50 in a size that I shouldn't be able to wear anymore after the way my Mommy is taking care of me. :-) I'm going to be a four hundred pound alcoholic with an ulcer by the end of this school year. But at least Mom feeds me cake. And wine.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
I'm going to have my first observation in twelve years this Tuesday. YIKES! If I had any memory of what I'm supposed to do, it's buried under piles of papers that are waiting to be graded. I have a ton of paperwork to do before then, so I'd better get back to work.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Seven took his last dose of antibiotic yesterday at breakfast, so naturally he got sick again that very day.
Seven came down to my room near the end of the day with a clinic slip. He was very warm and sort of out of it. His teacher sent him to the clinic but he got confused and came to my room instead. He was practically delirious.
I took Ten to Grama's house and drove Seven to, you guessed it, the Minute Clinic. The nurse there said they couldn't treat him, that we'd have to go to a full-fledged doctor because he had a fever, bad headache, and had just finished a round of meds. So we got back in the car and drove to an urgent care clinic. By then he was delirious, shivering, and moaning with pain. Poor baby.
They did a strep test and it came back negative, but the doctor said it would've been negative anyway, even if he had strep, since he's on antibiotics. Duh--why did they do the test? The doc said, " His throat looks like strep and he's acting like he has strep, so we're going to treat it like strep." His sinuses were still infected so he would've gotten antibiotics with or without a positive strep test.
Once his ibuprofen and first dose of antibiotics kicked in (within a couple of hours) he was acting more like himself again. Of course, he couldn't go to school today but luckily Dan had the day off. So did Dan stay with him? No, Seven wanted to stay home to "help" take care of Grama.
Oh, in the last week we've also taken Dan's car to the shop for new struts, put new tires on it, and fixed something minor that was wrong with my car.It was convenient to borrow Mom's truck since she can't drive yet, but I'm going broke here! I can't wait to get my first paycheck next week! Thanks, Grace and Brian, for taking Dan to pick up my car and getting my mail, and moving my trash can, and all the other awesome things you do for us.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Ten developed a fever blister after being sick last weekend. Apparently he touched his mouth and then rubbed his eye because he spread the virus all over his eye. It was nasty. Naturally the Minute Clinic doesn't treat that (but I still heart them anyway) and we don't have a new doctor up here yet, so Dan had to take the day off work Tuesday to drive Ten all the way back to Smyrna to see his regular doctor. He missed a day of school but made up all the work by the next day. He's lost five pounds in the last month because he's been back on his ADHD patch since school started and the doctor is worried about that. So now we're trying to cram him full of food every chance we get.
Dan also took the day off work Thursday to take care of my mother after her foot surgery. Is he a great son-in-law or what? Mom is doing pretty well, considering what a mess her foot was in. They replaced the knuckle in her big toe, straightened the next two toes, and removed a bone spur that had turned into a bunion. She can't drive for at least a week (probably more like two or three) and she's bored out of her mind, but doing okay. (I think my sister-in-law and I will probably end up with some new knit scarves and jewelry out of this because Mom needs to keep her hands busy.) She didn't get violently ill after anesthesia like she usually does, so we were grateful. Especially Dan.
We talked to another realtor about listing our house with him. We're going to have to drop our price significantly, which has us pretty bummed out. It limits the amount we'll be able to spend on another house up here, where houses are more expensive. We have a huge list of things to do to the house this week to get it ready for the market. Again. Argh.
I miss my friends in Smyrna. Hi guys. :-(