Okay, so I've been gone a while. So sue me. Some of my friends (coughSannacough) are giving me a hard time about it. Look, I've been busy. In the last two weeks we cleaned the house, ripped out the carpet and tiled the bathroom floor and installed waterproof quarter-round and caulked the heck out of it, installed a new light fixture in the kitchen, fixed the whole-house stereo speakers (okay, that was all Dan--I had nothing to do with it), and tried to clean things up around here to get the house back on the market.
And I've been busy with school stuff, too. Today I graded papers, planned lessons, updated my class website, found new websites to link to, put grades on the online gradebook, and wrote my weekly newsletter--for about twelve hours. My back aches but this week's plans rock.
In addition to all that, I've been a mommy. My children are on a crazy kick to create superheroes for all the presidents of the United States. So far they have:
Iron Jefferson (Thomas Jefferson=Iron Man)
Abe Lincoln as Superman
Teddy Roosevelt as Batman (and his V.P. Charles Fairbanks as Robin)
Harry Truman as Captain Atom
Dwight D. Eisenhower as Captain America
James Madison as Madison Manhunter (instead of Martian Manhunter)
George Washington as DinoGeorge (in a red Power Rangers suit)
Barack Obama as Green Lantern
and some others I can't remember. They've spent a lot of ink printing pictures of superheroes and presidents, and then cutting off the presidents' heads and taping them on superhero bodies.
Hey, you know, whatever keeps them off the streets.
But, even though I'm very busy, I've compiled a short list for your reading pleasure. I call it "Statements you'll never hear if you're a mother of girls:"
1) "Mom, I shot you in the heart twice. Now you have to pretend to die." (while playing intense combat Nerf gun battles with my oldest)
2) "And now, cucumber, you will taste the wrath of my mighty sword!" (while stabbing a cucumber slice with a fork at lunch)
3) "My brother won't play with me so now I'll have to battle the forces of evil in the universe all by myself."
With all this violence going on at home, how could I possibly keep the blog up to date?
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Monday, February 16, 2009
Anniversary Dinner
So tonight Dan and I took the kids with us to Zaxby's for our 18th anniversary dinner. Because we are SO fancy, we wore our good sweatpants.
While Dan and I were ordering we sent the kids to pick out a table. Eight chose a booth for four, while Eleven picked out the big, round, corner booth. I told him no, that we needed to save that table for a larger family because there are only four of us. He disagreed, but reluctantly left the table and came over to the booth his brother chose, grumbling the whole way. When Dan arrived with the food, Eleven was still complaining. Dan told him that we needed to leave that table in case a party of twenty showed up. I laughed and said, "Well, I don't think that table will seat twenty, but definitely more than four."
Eleven piped in and said, "Oh, it will seat nine. I know because I measured. With my butt."
Then he demonstrated how he scooted around the booth, counting butt prints as he went. Yep. That's my gifted child.
Later, while he was munching his grilled cheese sandwich, he bit his tongue or the inside of his cheek or something. He sat there saying, "Ouch, ouch, ouch," until we acknowledged his injury. Dan jokingly asked if I ordered extra glass slivers in the sandwich, to which Eleven deadpanned, "I didn't know they used sharp cheddar cheese."
Ha, ha. Dinner AND a show.
Happy anniversary, honey. Thanks for giving me the last eighteen years and our two precious children. But next weekend, let's go out to dinner and leave them at home, 'kay?
While Dan and I were ordering we sent the kids to pick out a table. Eight chose a booth for four, while Eleven picked out the big, round, corner booth. I told him no, that we needed to save that table for a larger family because there are only four of us. He disagreed, but reluctantly left the table and came over to the booth his brother chose, grumbling the whole way. When Dan arrived with the food, Eleven was still complaining. Dan told him that we needed to leave that table in case a party of twenty showed up. I laughed and said, "Well, I don't think that table will seat twenty, but definitely more than four."
Eleven piped in and said, "Oh, it will seat nine. I know because I measured. With my butt."
Then he demonstrated how he scooted around the booth, counting butt prints as he went. Yep. That's my gifted child.
Later, while he was munching his grilled cheese sandwich, he bit his tongue or the inside of his cheek or something. He sat there saying, "Ouch, ouch, ouch," until we acknowledged his injury. Dan jokingly asked if I ordered extra glass slivers in the sandwich, to which Eleven deadpanned, "I didn't know they used sharp cheddar cheese."
Ha, ha. Dinner AND a show.
Happy anniversary, honey. Thanks for giving me the last eighteen years and our two precious children. But next weekend, let's go out to dinner and leave them at home, 'kay?
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Happy Stupid Holiday
Last year about this time you were forced to read about my jaded view of Valentine's Day, so I won't make you endure it again. Unless you click on that link up there and read it again. Hey, don't say I didn't warn you.
It has nothing to do with my husband not being romantic or anything, because he is. I mean, you can't beat recycled roses! That's true love right there, folks. No, I just hate the forced romanticism. I hate the idea that some exec at Hallmark is cashing in on the pressure exerted on people to act all lovey dovey just because it's the middle of February. Sheesh. There I go again.
So, anyway, Happy Valentine's Day.
In a no pressure, don't buy me roses or chocolate and I promise not to buy you underwear with a lip print on it, kind of way.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Indian name: Poops on Self
Today we took the kids to be tested for the magnet school in Hendersonville, just to keep our options open for next fall. Since neither of us knows where we'll be working or living next year, we decided to make a list of all possibilities and this was one of them. Although, I don't know why we bothered because, even if they pass the test, there's no guarantee they'll get in. There will be a lottery among the kids who pass for a spot on the waiting list since there are no open spots anywhere in the school. Well, I take that back--there are 40 spots in kindergarten and THREE spots in 12th grade. Yeah, like that helps me and my kids. But let's look on the bright side--maybe if we get their names somewhere on the waiting list now, their children might have a shot of getting in someday.
So anyway, we were waiting at a table with two other moms (one whose kids are currently enrolled at the school where I teach) and she was asking me how the magnet school compares with the other schools in the county. I told them about our experience at the boys' former magnet school in another county. I was trying to tell them about a particular teacher at the old school and how he's a smart guy but he comes off as sort of a goof because he has a very self-deprecating sense of humor.
Only I said "self-DEFECATING." Yes, I did. I told complete strangers that a teacher at my kids' school poops on himself.
I believe I just proved the superiority of magnet school teachers over regular teachers. At least they're superior to ME. I bet they don't discuss the bowel habits of their coworkers with complete strangers.
Urgh.
So anyway, we were waiting at a table with two other moms (one whose kids are currently enrolled at the school where I teach) and she was asking me how the magnet school compares with the other schools in the county. I told them about our experience at the boys' former magnet school in another county. I was trying to tell them about a particular teacher at the old school and how he's a smart guy but he comes off as sort of a goof because he has a very self-deprecating sense of humor.
Only I said "self-DEFECATING." Yes, I did. I told complete strangers that a teacher at my kids' school poops on himself.
I believe I just proved the superiority of magnet school teachers over regular teachers. At least they're superior to ME. I bet they don't discuss the bowel habits of their coworkers with complete strangers.
Urgh.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Quote of the Day
The funniest thing I heard all week:
Dad was in his jammies, (with his coat on over them) getting ready to go out to the garage (a.k.a. his bedroom since I moved into his room) for the night. His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped and turned back to address Mom, Dan, and me.
"This is depressing," he said.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
He sighed, hung his head, and said, "I'm going to be 62 years old in a few months and I'm sleeping out in the garage while some guy from Ohio is sleeping in MY bed. WITH MY DAUGHTER!"
Poor dad.
Dad was in his jammies, (with his coat on over them) getting ready to go out to the garage (a.k.a. his bedroom since I moved into his room) for the night. His hand was on the doorknob when he stopped and turned back to address Mom, Dan, and me.
"This is depressing," he said.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
He sighed, hung his head, and said, "I'm going to be 62 years old in a few months and I'm sleeping out in the garage while some guy from Ohio is sleeping in MY bed. WITH MY DAUGHTER!"
Poor dad.
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