Princess in Boyland

My Bathroom Cabinets part two

2012-01-02T09:22:00.007-06:00

Remember back during fall break when I painted my bathroom cabinet doors and drawer fronts and spray painted the knobs and drawer pulls? Because we all know that I can't have time off from school unless something is getting painted. I'm apparently not acquainted with the works rest or relaxation.

I wasn't happy with the way that fake drawer thingy stayed white. I wanted it to be blue like the other real doors, and it needed something. Also, the base cabinets looked, well, weird. I used some of the previous owners left over paint, but it wasn't a great color match. Plus, the white annoyed me. So, I started over.

I removed the door and drawers and sanded down the base cabinet to the original primer coat (or bare wood in some places). I primed it with Zinsser water base primer for all surfaces. A lot of people prefer oil-based primer in the bathroom, but I hate cleaning up after using oil-based paint. I chose Valspar semi-gloss latex paint in Humboldt Earth. The can says it's "scrub safe," so hopefully it will stand up to daily use. It says one coat coverage, but because I didn't tint the primer to match, I needed two coats. I prefer two coats anyway, and I didn't want to tint the primer to match because I've been using this same primer for everything lately.

While I was at Lowe's getting the paint, I found the something that the fake drawer thingy needed. A little wooden architectural bling. Perfect. I lightly roughed it up with sandpaper and sprayed it with my trusty oil-rubbed bronze from Rustoleum.

Here's the final result.

I love the contrast between the brown and blue. I love the bling. And I love the nice, crisp edge that results from using a really tight tape line on the PAINTABLE caulk edge along the side and floor. That will be important in the next post. Oooo, foreshadowing. It's almost as if I'm a writer again.

Next, I'll be posting about painting the boys' bathroom cabinets. Stay tuned for a great opportunity to alternately feel sorry for me and/or laugh at me. Stay tuned.

Boys Bathroom Cabinet Redo (and Redo)

2012-01-02T09:19:00.008-06:00

Last Christmas I recaulked the boys' bathroom because all the old grout and caulk was crumbling and nasty. This Christmas break I wished I could go back in time to last year and kick my own butt. If I knew that someday I would be painting the cabinets, why did I caulk around them with UNpaintable caulk? Because I was caulking the shower surround with silicone and I didn't bother to change the caulk tube. I paid for that this week.

After sanding, cleaning, tacking off, taping off, priming, and painting two coats of paint on the cabinets, I had to start all over again. When I removed the tape, all the paint around the edges of the cabinets peeled off because latex paint doesn't adhere to silicone caulk. Duh. I know better.

So, I could've cried and then thrown up OR thrown up and then cried. Instead I went shopping. Hi, I'm a girl. It's how I roll.

While what was supposed to be the FINAL coat of paint was drying, I went to WalMart and bought some paintable caulk. Key word here being paintable. I also bought myself some really cute pink leopard print slippers for $10 and a few T-shirts and some yoga pants because I needed retail therapy after that debacle. Don't judge me.

When I got back home, I scraped away all the old silicone caulk, which took forever and several razor blades. Thank goodness for my iPod and my totally schizo music selection. I listened to a crazy variety of music while scraping caulk for hours, so it was very therapeutic. Then I sanded the rough edges of the paint, re-primed those areas, and then painted two more coats of brown paint.

I also removed and painted the hardware. Instead of using my trusty Rustoleum oil-rubbed bronze like I usually do, I did an under coat of aged copper first. I was trying to make it look like the faucet that the boys installed for me a few weeks ago (which looks a little bit like this one) with its rubbed-off places where the bronze-y part shows through the blackish parts. So, I painted a couple of coats of aged copper, then painted a light coat of oil-rubbed bronze over it. Then I lightly sanded away some spots of the ORB paint to reveal the aged copper. In some spots, it rubbed clear down to the original hardware surface because the aged copper did not adhere as well as my precious ORB usually does. Instead of thinking of that as an error, I'm looking at it as "adding character." Because I'm way too tired to start over on any other part of this project.

The other thing I changed was I took off the fake drawer front thingy (there has to be a better name for those) and bought the

tip-out trays and hinges. Dan installed them for me while I put everything back into the drawers and cabinets. Now he has extra storage for his contacts and solution and I don't have to look at that stuff sitting out on the counter.

So, without further delay, here are some photos of the finished product.

Priceless

2011-12-24T09:53:00.003-06:00

Bass Guitar lessons: $88 a month for 12 months

Impressing the heck out of your teen- and pre-teenage boys by rocking out along with Trans-Siberian Orchestra to Carol of the Bells: priceless

That's right boys; your mommy is a rock star (at least in my own head).

Conjunction Junction

2011-12-22T22:01:00.002-06:00

Wednesday on the way to school, Aaron and I were listening to 94 FM (the Fish), a local Christian radio station because they're playing Christmas music 24/7. We sang along with Point of Grace on Let it Snow/Sleigh Ride. I was bothered by something at the very beginning of the song, but I didn't say anything about it. I just tried to ignore it and kept on singing

When the song was over, Aaron said, "Mommy, do you know what bugs me about that song?" My heart sped up a little bit in anticipation of his next words, hoping but not really believing it was possible that he noticed the same mistake that I did. But then he said, "The girl sang the wrong conjunction. She said 'Oh the weather outside is frightful, AND the fire is so delightful,' but she should have said BUT since they're contrasting ideas. I mean, frightful and delightful are opposing adjectives, so she should have said BUT."

I nearly swooned with delight. That just may be one of my proudest mommy moments. I am successfully creating the next generation of grammar nerds in my image.

Tenure

2011-10-21T21:24:00.002-05:00

I finally received my tenure letter yesterday. It's just a shame that it's now meaningless because of the state's new evaluation model. Oh well, if we ever run out of toilet paper at Casa de Brewer, I can put that letter to some use.

"Oh, awesome! I have tenure! Now I won't have to prepare for three observations this year." Um, yeah. Right. Now I get to prepare for at least four--even though I have only positive feedback in my file, great observations in the past, high test scores, and happy parent recommendations. That's your tax dollars at work, people--paying extra people to come in and perform unnecessary extra observations on people who are already getting the job done.

And what, you might ask, did I do upon receiving my notice of tenure? Blow off school and go out to celebrate? Decide that I have job security and just "phone it in" for the the rest of the year? Or even the rest of the week?

No. Actually I didn't even phone it in for the rest of the day. I stayed at school writing lesson plans until 6:00 p.m. (two hours past my contracted time--for those of you keeping score at home--after I'd arrived an hour before my contracted time started that morning). The only reason I left at 6:00 is because we had Bible study at 6:30 and I still had to eat dinner. The next day I came in early again, stayed late again, and have been grading papers at home on a Friday night for 5 hours. I'm only about halfway finished, in case you were wondering.

Tomorrow I get to go to school to decorate my door for Red Ribbon Week, which is our county's Drug Free event for Just Say No (to drugs and alcohol). Seriously. I am a professional with a Master's degree, and I have to go in off the clock to hang butcher paper on my door. It's enough to make me want to say yes to drugs and alcohol.

But regardless of all the insanity that is currently running amok in education, I officially have tenure.

Whoopdee-freakin'-do.

What I Did on Fall Break (part two)

2011-10-13T19:36:00.016-05:00

For my next trick...

I had two other projects working this week: one that was really easy and one that made me cuss. The easy one first. My 14 year old has had the same dresser set since he was still living in my belly and I filled it with baby clothes. Back then his clothes fit in the dresser drawers. Now, not so much.

I've been checking Craigslist every night and yard sales every weekend trying to find one tall (5-6 drawer) chest of drawers to replace the 4-drawer chest and 6-drawer long dresser that he has now, but I haven't found anything that I like which I can also afford. So, unfortunately for now, he's stuck with his kid-sized furniture to hold his man-sized clothes. But also unfortunately, they were fugly. They were scuffed and scratched and had these really awful fake brass drawer pulls. Well, see for yourself:

Old English Scratch Cover and Rust-oleum Oil Rubbed Bronze spray paint to the rescue. Both of those products are must-haves for me. I've used the Old English scratch cover on so many things--to erase a bunch of minor scratches in furniture when we moved, and more recently, to help me restore a Bombay Company jewelry chest which I've seen on Ebay and other sites for $100, that I scored at a yard sale for $5 this summer. It was in pretty rough shape, but with a little sanding and elbow grease and Old English, it is beautiful again.

Rust-oleum Univeral paint and primer in one is my go-to for anything that needs to be replaced when I can't afford to replace. Seriously, this stuff has saved me bundles of cash. I've painted (in two different houses) bathroom light fixtures , towel bars, toilet paper dispensers, drawer and cabinet pulls (see bathroom cabinet makeover, next), hinges, my metal (fake iron) bed, metal wall art, decorative crosses, picture frames, and probably some other stuff that I can't remember right now. I love this paint. It looks black at first glance, but when the light catches it, it gives off this really pretty glowy, gold-flecky, sparkly sheen that is so lovely.

So, back to the dresser. It's not a huge change (at least it doesn't show up well in the pictures), but it's enough that I can live with the chest of drawers a little while longer until I find something better. And then when I sell the old ones on Craigslist, somebody will get a less fugly pair for their kid's room. Win, win. Here is the finished product:

Now on to my bathroom. I painted the walls over the summer to match the blue/brown motif we have going on in the attached bedroom. I love that shade of blue. My plan was to paint the cabinet base in a dark espresso brown, paint the door and drawer fronts blue, and then texturize them with some brown glaze. It was cream colored with lots of scuffs and scratches, and it had a couple of places where I'd dripped hair color down the front of it and stained it. Oh, it also had fake brass hinges, drawer and cabinet pulls. I forgot to take the "before" picture until after I'd already removed the cabinet door (and I forgot to put away my flat iron too).

It should have been a piece of cake to do because it's so small. I might not have mentioned this before, but I have the smallest bathroom and the smallest closet in the family. But of course, right off the bat I ran into trouble. The screws holding the drawer fronts in place were totally stripped and I couldn't unscrew them. After trying every Phillips head screwdriver we own, and lots of brute force, I managed to get them off. However, the fake drawer thingy (what do you call those things?) was firmly attached. So I decided rather than tape it off and try to paint it the same blue as the real drawers, I would just leave it the same color as the base.

I couldn't find a brown that I loved enough to buy a whole quart of it to do such a tiny section of cabinet. I really wanted this project to be free (my favorite price) like the dresser (since I already had a can of spray paint) and I didn't want to have a nearly full quart of brown paint sitting around. Then I discovered two things that solidified my decision: one, the previous owner had used oil-based paint, so I could not paint over it with latex; two, there was still half a can of the cream-colored oil-based paint that the previous owner had used just sitting there, free (my favorite price) in the basement. Decision made, I sanded the worn spots on the cabinet base and applied another coat of the original paint just to freshen things up.

I took the hinges and door/drawer pulls off and painted them with my beloved oil-rubbed bronze. I sanded down the door and drawer fronts, primed them, and painted them with four coats of the blue wall paint. Yes, four coats. Ugh. The hardest part of the whole project was getting the drawer fronts off and back on again. Because of this fact, even though I don't absolutely love the way it turned out, it's staying this color for a while. I'm not taking those suckers off again any time soon. I thought I would really love the contrast between the blue and cream, but I'm not in love with it. I don't hate it, but it's not as awesome as I'd envisioned it. And it really bothers me that the fake drawer thingy is white but the real drawers are blue.

I really love the next picture because you can see my goofy hand in the mirror trying to avoid capturing my own image in the photo. Trust me when I tell you, I do not want the cyber world to see what I look like right now.

So, there's two more projects checked off my list. The others are much more time-consuming, requiring power tools and strength and skills that I don't possess. At least not by myself. I need to build a shelving unit in my laundry room to make it a proper mudroom, paint the whole room, rip up the Brady Bunch linoleum, and stain the concrete floor. Then I need to sand and repaint my front porch columns and gable, caulk the cracks and seal the concrete porch, repair the handrails and attach one side to the brick wall of the house for stability. Then I need to sand and paint all the shutters. I don't look forward to doing any of that alone. Yuck. I may have to break down and hire someone for that part of the list.

But at least I got some of the minor things crossed off the list this week. And I still have a few more days to tackle some more.

I still ♥ fall break.

What I Did Over Fall Break (part one)

2011-10-13T09:09:00.014-05:00

Okay, so it's fall break and I have a week off to take care of all the little projects that stack up during the school year when my entire life is dominated by school stuff. I need these breaks throughout the year so I can catch up on housework and create something artsy to feed my artists' soul. If only I had more time, because my To To List, she is long and mighty.

First, I'm cleaning the whole house. It's a work in progress because I hate cleaning and can only do so much at a time. It's way overdue for a scrubbing. Kinda like Johnny Depp. Euw. Somebody needs to flea dip and groom that boy. Speaking of which, I did that to Lily the other day. She had a total doggie spa day: bath, conditioner, flea dip, nails trimmed, ears cleaned, teeth brushed, and doggie mouthwash generously applied. Then she came home and rolled in something and ate goose poop. Sigh.

Next, I made a chair. Well, I didn't really MAKE the chair, but I recovered an old one. I was trying to copy a chair I'd seen "on sale" for $399 at Price Point furniture's going out of business sale. Since there's no flippin' way I'm going to pay $400 for one stinkin' chair, I shopped around a little more. I found this one.
It was on clearance at Kirkland's for $99, but that was still too much to pay. Plus, the French cut of the wood on this chair didn't really fit with the music room slash man cave decor. But, I loved the zebra print fabric and black frame. I started thinking about what I already had at home that I could fix up to work. I remembered an old chair used to be in my dad's office when he worked for Dictaphone. I'd recovered it once before when we lived in Smyrna to match the boys' playroom in the old house. The original chair was covered with mustard yellow pleather and upholstery (right out of the seventies, kinda like the linoleum floor you can see in my laundry room in that picture, which is also on my projects list), so I covered it with denim and red trim. Here's how it looked before:
It had about a million staples in it, so they all had to be removed, by hand of course, to take the blue fabric back off.

My hand was aching by the time I had them all out, but it was worth it.

After taking off the seat and back, I sanded and primed the wooden frame. I painted it with Benjamin Moore low luster black paint because I wanted that Pottery Barn look instead of a glossy black sheen.

After about a million coats of black paint, the frame looked really good. During that time I also painted an old end table that we got for free (my favorite price) back in Smyrna when one of our neighbors moved away and left it sitting by the curb. It was brown and didn't match the black/red music room, so we've been covering it with a black tablecloth, and Dan keeps his mixing board on it. After a few dozen coats of black paint, we don't have to cover it up anymore. It's missing the cross bars that are supposed to connect the legs, but that's actually a good thing because we always stored a box full of sheet music underneath, concealed by the tablecloth, and the missing crossbar made it easy to slide the box out. Now that box is in the closet because the table is too cute to cover up. If only I could hide all those blasted cords. They are the biggest draw back to having a music studio in the house. Wires and cords are EVERYWHERE!

So, back to the chair. The inspiration chair ranged from $99 atKirkland's to $400 at Price Point. I spent $15 on paint (which I used for more than one piece of furniture and still have plenty left for more projects), and $15 for a yard of zebra print fabric. I reused the red corded piping that I had on the free (my favorite price) chair when it was blue. So, for a grand total of $30, here is my finished chair:

Isn't it great? Can't you just see me sitting in it to practice my bass guitar? I love this chair!

It looks really great in the room, especially photographed in front of the new loveseat. Oh, did I mention that we finally bought some grown up furniture? After years of using hand-me-downs, slip covers, and garage sale furniture in the music room, we went to Price Point's sale (where I first saw the original inspiration chair) and bought a double reclining MATCHING couch and loveseat. We haven't bought matching furniture since before my 14 year old was born. I wanted a really pretty black leather set, but this gray corduroy feels like you just cuddled up in a giant fuzzy cloud. We went with comfort over style, since it's the man cave/music room.

Then I scoured all the stores in Hendersonville to find some red, black, and gray toss pillows to go with it. I found the gray pleated pillows at Target on sale for about $10 each (I can't remember the exact price). Then I found the red ones at Ross on clearance for only $6.48 each SCORE! They're actually reversible too, so I can have red with black embroidery or black with red. I prefer the red because the colors pop against the dark gray fabric.

I will have to write another post with the other projects I'm doing this week, because the paint isn't completely cured yet on my bathroom cabinet project. More to come.

I ♥ fall break!

The First 55 Minutes

2011-09-23T23:04:00.002-05:00

So, this didn't start out to be a banner day, at least not the first 55 minutes.

5:30 a.m. Woke up to pouring rain. On picture day. Awesome.
Suffered intestinal distress while showering. I'll skip the details to give you the polite version of the story and just say that the end result was the toilet was clogged. Before 6:00 a.m. Double awesome.
Stumbled in the dark to go to the other bathroom to get the plunger. Ran headfirst into the bedroom door. (The awesomeness will continue to escalate throughout this tale of woe. Stay with me.)
Got the plunger.
Tripped on the laundry basket and ran into the bathroom door frame on the way back to my own bathroom.
Unclogged the toilet and rinsed out the plunger in the shower.
When attempting to put the wet plunger into a plastic bag to contain the germs and avoid contact between my skin and all things germ-related, I realized there was a giant hole in the bag. The hard way. When the plunger fell threw the bag and landed on my bare foot with a big, wet plop.
Re-showered feet. And plunger. And entire shower enclosure, just for good measure.
Went downstairs to walk the dog and realized we are completely out of dog food. Fed the cat instead.
Listened to the dog voice her heartfelt complaints about the lack of dog food and the unfairness of the availability of cat food for another hour.

I'm happy to say that once I left my house, the day went smoothly.

Tonight we bought brand new furniture tonight for the first time in at least 16 years. We're borrowing PawPaw's truck to pick it up tomorrow because we're too cheap to pay for delivery. When Dan watches football this Sunday, it'll be as if he's sitting on a marshmallow. A really soft corduroy marshmallow that reclines.

Oh, and I played an acoustic bass guitar for the first time last night IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE EVEN at our small group Bible study. It was monstrously huge and crazy awkward to play, but I loved it. Jimi Hendrix (not that Jimi Hendrix, but he's just as talented as the one you're thinking of) is letting me borrow it. I have the coolest friends in the world!

Oh again, I was evaluated at school TWICE in the last week and rocked out my scores both times. I still have two more unannounced observations this year, but hopefully my scores are good enough on the first two to give me a little padding in case I bomb the next one.

So, other than the first 55 minutes of today, it's been a great week.

Rock Star Wanna-Be

2011-09-03T18:28:00.004-05:00

My friend Loren gave me a little bit of good-hearted grief this week because I haven't blogged in a while. Mostly because she likes to read about herself. But I didn't realize just how long it's been since I've blogged until I opened up the old Blogger account and realized...wow. January? Really? Um, okay Loren, you win. I'm blogging.

Here's why I haven't been writing much. Or, you know, at all. After taking a lesson a week since January, I've learned to play bass. Like, really play. In front of people. Without throwing up or wetting myself.

It all started back in the spring, when Dan and I (mostly Dan, but he let me come along just to humor me) were asked to lead worship for the Student Ministry service on Wednesday nights at church. We were very interested in helping because we love our youth pastor and our teens (and we happen to own our very own teenager who is gracious enough to pretend he doesn't know us when we're in the Student Zone). But this presented a challenge because there were very few songs that I could actually sing and play at the same time. Or, you know, play at all. But luckily this was after TCAPs were over and I could relax a tiny bit about the school stuff and focus on being a rock star. I played for hours every night and worked up a few songs that I could sing and play as long as I played a really simple bass line while Dan carried the song and I just sang harmony. Then we found a handful of songs that I could sing the lead and play. We had a couple of awesome students who were willing to sing with us on stage, and we had a blast doing it. We stopped when school got out because they changed up their Wednesday night service for the summer, but Dan kept working with the students who helped us lead. Our goal all along was to mentor them and equip them to lead worship themselves instead of having us old folks in there.

At the end of May our regular bass player told me that there were two months in June that he would be out of town and I would need to fill in for him. I really didn't think I was ready, but Dan convinced me that I was. Our worship pastor agreed and put me on the schedule. Then I saw the songs for that first service and nearly fainted. They were really challenging songs! I took what I thought was the hardest one to my bass teacher and said, "Help me play like that." That was Monday night and by Wednesday night's rehearsal, I had it. Because it was summer, I had lots of time to practice before that Sunday's service. I was nervous that first morning, but it was such a rush. It. Was. Awesome. I loved playing side by side with my hubby--rocking out for Jesus.

Long story short, I ended up playing five Sundays in a row before taking a break to get ready for school to start. I took 4 Sundays off from playing bass (during which I went back to doing Praise Team, choir, and even acting in a skit twice) before playing bass again last week and this week. The guy who usually played bass before I started is still playing, he's just playing electric or acoustic guitar because, unlike me, he can actually play more than one instrument. I'm not that talented yet. And I still have a hard time playing and singing at the same time. But I love being part of the energy of worship in a church full of beautiful, spirited-filled, imperfect believers.

But let's get to the important stuff: my friend Loren. She's a great children's pastor, mommy, wife, friend, and child of God. And she is a crazy-good singer herself, in case you were wondering.

Snow Days = Sinking into the Abyss

2011-01-17T11:18:00.002-06:00

How is it possible that I've had very nearly a MONTH off from work and I'm still completely unprepared to go back to work tomorrow? Thanks to the Great Snowpocalypse of 2011, I did not go to school at all last week. Today we're off for MLK day. Yet somehow I have to find the strength to work four whole days in a row this week. I simply don't know how I'll manage.

When I'm pressed for time, I manage to get things crossed off my list. If I know I only have a certain amount of time to do something, I buckle down and get it done. But if I have hours of unstructured time looming before me, I somehow let entire days go by and wonder why nothing got done. Last week I could feel myself morphing into a depressed, unwashed, pajama-clad slug and was almost powerless to stop it. Thank God we went to church yesterday so I had a kind of dress rehearsal for reentry into the real world.

Here's what I managed to accomplish last week:

tried to vacuum, only to discover that my only six-month-old Dirt Devil is broken and also, no one carries the belt type required by that model
spent another hundred dollars at the vet for my incontinent, very expensive, free dog
started reading two books, got to page 30, and tossed them aside
reread two titles and successfully completed a new title without throwing it against the wall
tried in vain to load songs onto my son's new mp3 player before cussing a lot and giving up
bought new jeans for my teenager who suddenly outgrew all his jeans overnight
sent the kids to mom's for two days after the stress of jeans shopping with a 13-year-old
practiced my bass guitar for hours (and built up a really impressive callous on my index finger)
helped paint a backdrop for the children's worship room at my church
bought new flannel sheets because I'm tired of freezing to death when I get into bed every night
took four bags of stuff to Goodwill
had a lunch date with my smoking hot hubby
walked the dog one mile each day
kicked some ten-year-old butt in Wii Play (I love the shooting game!!)
procrastinated all things work-related

So now, because of that last one, I have to get busy today. So why am I still goofing off on Facebook? Because I can, that's why.

New Year, Clean Closets

2011-01-02T15:21:00.002-06:00

So, apparently either my cleaning streak was just due to overzealous winter break getting ready for the New Year neurosis, or those Rock Star drinks last for several days. In the last few days I continued my cleaning streak adding:

finished cleaning out the garage, including sorting through all the beach toys and sporting equipment that my kids have outgrown
cleaned out the craft closet, which resulted in about nine bags of trash and a big box full of more stuff (another three bags) to donate
cleaned the boys' bathroom (which required a haz-mat suit and a full can of cleaning product)
ripped out all the old caulk in that bathroom (which involved lots of scraping with a razor blade and completely ruining my manicure) and recaulked everything
reorganized, alphabetized, and made new tabs for my music binder for the praise band
saved then deleted my list of books read last year to start the list for 2011
solved the mystery of our internet freeloader, whom I affectionately refer to as the Lawnchair Laptop Larcenist

Here's the deal with that: just as I suspected, he was a college kid who was home on break and didn't have access to the internet. He was staying with his grandparents and had no wheels, so he wandered the neighborhood until he got a wireless signal. He was trying to check his grades online. We talked to his grandmother this morning, who wanted to know if she owed us anything for his using our wireless connection. How sweet is that? Turns out, we think he was leapfrogging on someone else's connection, because ours is password-protected and Dan disabled the Guest access. Anyway, Grandma was very apologetic and kept telling Dan what a good boy her grandson is and that he teaches Sunday School in Florida and didn't mean any harm. I'll never forget looking out the window and seeing him all bundled up in his hoodie, surfing the net in front of our house.

I've also decided that it's ridiculous to start a diet when there's still Christmas candy in the house, so I'll worry about that when all the goodies are gone. Which reminds me, I have a date with some peanut butter fudge.

I am a Rock Star

2010-12-30T21:43:00.005-06:00

Even if only because of what I drink.

Today I drank a Rock Star Sugar Free Energy Drink for breakfast instead of a cup of coffee. Let me just tell you that if I drank one of those every day, I'm certain I could rule the world. Here's a list of everything I got done today...

called ARC to find out why they didn't come pick up my donation yesterday, even though they were the ones who contacted me and even gave me a reminder call the day before. Got them to come out today to pick up NINE BAGS of stuff--most of which came from the ten year old's room after I helped him clean out the closet, dressers, desk, and under the bed a few days ago
called the Federal court system and sweet-talked the clerk into changing my jury duty from February to June so I won't have to miss school.
noticed a guy sitting in a lawn chair in front of my house with his laptop. Seriously. You red that correctly. This is the second time this has happened--the first was Sunday night when it was FREEZING outside and I was snuggled on the couch watching The Sound of Music. Took pictures and video of the guy until someone drove up to get him. He calmly folded his chair and got in the car. I called the police and they sent an officer out to file a report about the weirdo. Then Dan changed the router so that guests cannot use it. That is a picture of him loading his chair into the "getaway car." I'm still astounded.

ordered a gig bag for my bass guitar so I'll have something to carry it in when I start lessons next week (But I just found out it won't arrive until the day after my first lesson. Sigh.) Also shopped for a carrying case for Dan's foot pedal, but couldn't find it.
took a trunk full of three month's worth of recycling to Gallatin (just plastic and steel cans--already took the aluminum cans to the Humane Society yesterday and the newspapers go to my school)
took a huge bag and two boxes of books to the used book store and got $68 in credit--which I immediately used $10 of to get more books
took the rest of the books she couldn't use to Goodwill
bought the kids lunch at Wendy's
did five loads of laundry (including the sheets) and put it all away
cleaned out the garage (which is a huge deal because the part I cleaned is where we crammed everything we didn't know what to do with when we first moved in and haven't touched it since)
took apart an old computer that no charities would take and completely smashed its innards to smithereens with a hammer so no one could get our personal information from it (this was So. Much. Fun.--highly recommended for anger management)

I'm thinking about framing that picture and displaying it in full view of my current computer as a warning any time it decides to start running slowly. Please notice that even though I had a great time doing this, I wore safety goggles like a responsible adult. Oh, and what you can't see is that I shouted "Towanda!!" and then giggled the whole time just like in the movie (except I was smashing a computer instead of a red convertible).

hauled all the broken computer pieces (Hee hee--Towanda! It just never gets old.) and a ton of old computer stuff and other electronic items out to the trash cans (but I had to leave it there until Monday's trash pickup)
straightened out the laundry room and boys' downstairs coat closet
cleaned out the upstairs coat closet
filled two more bags of stuff to donate
realized it was 9:00 p.m. and I still hadn't eaten dinner so I ate some Triscuits and hummus
wrote this blog

See what I mean? Efficiency times one hundred! Dan walked into the bedroom when I was sorting out the trunk at the foot of our bed and putting away towels. I looked up to find him watching me, smiling. I asked what he wanted and he said, "Nothing. I was just checking to see if you were building an addition to the house or something in here. You're a little scary today."

I think tomorrow I'll tackle the craft closet and computer desk. Then the world.

E coli, anyone?

2010-12-30T09:14:00.003-06:00

So, if you wanted to kick start your weight loss New Year's resolutions, you might consider ordering a Quarter Pounder from McDonald's. But wait, you might say, aren't those things full of saturated fat and something like 500 calories? How could that help me lose weight? Well you see grasshopper, you have to order the secret ingredient: E coli.

My poor husband discovered this the hard way. I've never seen anyone vomit so much in my entire life--and that's saying a lot considering I was sick the full nine months with BOTH of my pregnancies. I felt so sorry for my poor Dan. I was fairly certain that I was going to see a spleen come flying out of him. Three days later he's still a little weak and shaky. His ribs and back muscles hurt from all the violent retching. He still doesn't have his appetite back. But at least he's lost a bit of weight so I'm a tiny bit jealous.

Not envious enough to eat another hamburger any time soon, but still.

The White Christmas Edition

2010-12-25T11:22:00.007-06:00

Merry Christmas everyone!!

We're celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace with a Nerf Longstrike here at Casa de Princess because nothing says "Peace on Earth, Goodwill to Men" like a longe-range sniper rifle and a kid who knows how to use it.

Speaking of Peace on Earth, Dan bought me bass guitar lessons in the interest of keeping the peace in our household. Turns out it's not a good idea to be married to the person who is trying to teach you to play an instrument. To cut down on the number of tears during practice (mostly mine, but I'm sure he wanted to cry too), Dan is paying someone else to teach me how to play bass. Apparently I'm an impatient student. Go figure. He's also planning to get me a bass amplifier in the after-Christmas clearance sale because I think I blew out one of his speakers already. Um, oops. He's getting me some headphones for my amp so that I can go to praise band practice and play along with the band but no one will be able to hear me play except myself. That's really for the best for everyone involved at this point in my skill level.

The boys picked out each other's gifts from Dan and me, which made shopping a breeze this year. I took them shopping individually, they loaded up the cart with what the other one wanted, and I produced a credit card, no questions asked. It was the best shopping experience ever. All I had to do was hide and then wrap them. Piece of cake. Oh, and Aaron made his brother a "Black Ops Ninja Snowman" mug, ornament, and gift bag which Ryan found hilarious. The gift bag said, "Ryan, I'm pretty sure you're the only one who can stand this picture," and it showed many different snowmen engaged in battle. Disturbing, yet very creative. That's my Aaron. They got each other lots of Star Wars action figures, Halo Reach toys, Lego stuff, and Nerf guns. The Special K box in the corner of that picture was my "special" trick--I put the action figures in the cereal box before wrapping them so they wouldn't be able to figure out what I'd bought. The best part was when Aaron unwrapped the corner of the gift and saw a pink box. He said, "Uh, Mom? I think this might be YOUR gift. You wouldn't buy me anything PINK, right?"

And speaking of pink, Dan also bought me a pink Snuggie so that I can be "Snugg-tacular" during recess at school this winter. I'm thinking about embellishing it with some "Teacher of the Year" monogramming and a few pink daisies or something. It looks really awesome with the blingtastic "pink diamond" ring that Aaron bought for me with his last dollar at the flea market when Grama took them shopping. Ryan picked out a bracelet with MOM spelled in gold (the Os are "genuine faux diamonds"). When I opened the jewelry box Dan said, "He went to Jared," which had us all cracking up because everyone knows how much I hate jewelry commercials. They know they'd be dead meat if any of them actually did buy me anything from Jared.

Last night we did Christmas at Mom and Dad's house, where we all racked up the gifts. The boys got tons of toys, stocking stuffers, clothes, and MP3 players. I got a bunch of cute clothes (including a new red coat), and a gazillion other awesome things including a great pink and brown scarf that Mom made for me. The thing that made me cry though was a mug which says "a daughter is a little girl who grows up to be a friend." So sweet.

We went to the candlelight service at BBC last night. I sang three songs with the choir, which was interesting with a cold. Shame I didn't learn the baritone parts beforehand, because I sounded a bit like Foghorn Leghorn whenever I tried to talk. It was great seeing our church family last night and participating in communion by candlelight while singing Christmas carols.

Oh, and did I mention the snow? For the first time in 17 years, Tennessee is experiencing a white Christmas! We stayed up 'til midnight last night watching the snow fall and playing music together. There's only about an inch on the ground, but we'll take it!

I hope your family is having a great Christmas too. I'll leave you with the disturbing image of my oldest child "Rockin' it Brewer Style" as he put it. He was sporting my Snuggie, the hat he bought me, and the gloves and ear muffs he bought for his dad. As Ryan said, "I'm taking one for the team," because we couldn't talk his dad into posing for this shot.

This is such a proud moment for me.----------------------->

Merry Christmas to all!

Brief Pop-In

2010-12-19T13:59:00.002-06:00

Just a few tidbits to prove I'm still alive...

Thankfully the ice storm fizzled out and didn't amount to anything except a one-hour early dismissal from school. Teenager finished his project. Now all is merry and bright.

I'm frantically trying to figure out how to make a vampire snowman right now. Yes, this is the kind of holiday I've been reduced to--trying to paint fangs on a snowman. Don't ask.

I might survive one and a half more days of school before winter break. Maybe.

More later.

Four Day Weekend?

2010-12-14T19:57:00.004-06:00

Why oh why did my school system just bless me with a four-day weekend, only to send us tomorrow with an impending ice storm? Do they not realize that we are STILL IN SCHOOL during the time the storm is expected to arrive? Have they never dealt with an early weather dismissal and all the madness that entails? ARGH!

And WHY for the love of all that is good and precious did my teenage son JUST NOW remember that he has a project due tomorrow, even though he just had FOUR DAYS to work on it when he did little more than play video games the whole freakin' time. I might kill him before he gets a chance to open his Christmas presents.

Not Dead (Yet)

2010-12-09T20:24:00.003-06:00

Okay, I was totally shamed into this blog entry by Grace and Loren (even though I have nothing worthwhile to write) if for no other reason than proof of life.

It's almost Christmas and I have no tree up, no lights, no village, no Christmas jewelry or tacky sweaters, no decorations at all except the front door wreath. It's all stored in the garage and it might just stay there until next year. I'm just not feeling inspired. On the other hand, I love singing Christmas music with my church choir, so I'm not a total Scrooge. My seasonal affective disorder has hit early this year and with a vengeance. Right now I'm not even trying to be friendly--I'm just hoping to avoid becoming Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

This has been one of the craziest, busiest weeks of my life. I won't go into the details, but just trust me on this. I'm ready to hibernate. Sometimes I really love my job. This is not one of those times.

I hate cold weather REAL BAD*, so I've decided to compile a list of jobs you'll never see me do in this lifetime. Or any lifetime for that matter.

igloo designer
crossing guard
Christmas parade grand marshal
figure skater
Arctic explorer
alpine skier
Zamboni driver
beer deliverer
speed skater
ice sculptor

*Yes, I know that should have been the adverb "really" instead of an adjective, but I claim poetic license because I was going for ghetto-tastic slang. Cut me some slack, my peeps. Word to your mother.

Anyway, I'll try to write more often, if for no other reason than to entertain Loren, my blog stalker, so she won't be tempted to stalk someone else's blog. That's me. Keeping cyberspace safe for the rest of you.

Rude Awakening

2010-10-05T07:34:00.004-05:00

After staying up until 2:30 a.m. because it's fall break and I can (and also because I had Starbucks yesterday afternoon with Loren and I became the Energizer bunny), I had a very rude awakening this morning at 6:45 when I heard a continuous beeping sound coming from far away. I'd slept in Nine's room last night since I went to bed so late and didn't want to wake Dan up. Nine was sleeping in his brother's room because, if you ask him, fall break is just one really long sleepover. Anyway, I heard this beeping, didn't know where it was coming from, and didn't know what it was.

In my groggy state, I stumbled out into the hallway, where the sound got a little louder. I kind of smelled a stale, vaguely smoky, gas heater-y kind of smell, but it didn't smell like raging house fire. I thought maybe the sound was coming from a carbon monoxide detector. Then I remembered we didn't have one of those anymore because the old one went on the fritz at our previous house and got thrown down on the concrete driveway and smashed repeatedly with a broomstick by someone with obvious anger management issues when it wouldn't Stop Making Noise. Ahem. Calm, soothing breaths. Okay, moving on...

So, then I kind of woke up the rest of the way and realized it must be a smoke detector and it must be coming from downstairs because I could barely hear it. Then I noticed that Dan was awake. Then the smoke detector in the hallway right outside the bedroom doors started going crazy. Two sleepy boys came tumbling out of Thirteen's room, dragging their feet and looking confused. I yelled for them to follow me downstairs, but they couldn't hear me because they were covering their ears to drown out all the beeping. I pulled them downstairs while Dan found a stepladder to reach the smoke detector and shut it up. I grabbed jackets for the boys and got them outside, then made the other detector in the laundry room stop beeping.

We figured out that it happened because this was the first time that our heater had ever been used, since we got the new air conditioner/heater combo back in June. There was probably some kind of protective covering or layer of dust over the heating element or in the ducts that burned off when it first cut on. At least, that's my scientific explanation.

Bottom line is, if this had been a real fire emergency, we'd all be toast. Between the whole parents-not-hearing-the-alarm-at-first, the kids-covering-the-ears-so-they-don't-hear-instructions, and the bypass-the-closest-exit-upstairs-and-go all-the-way-downstairs-where-there-might-actually-BE-a-fire, we sucked at fire safety. Epic fire drill fail.

The good news is, since this wasn't an actual fire and we didn't die from our stupidity, it gave us a good opportunity to talk about what we did wrong and how we should respond in a real emergency. When I taught preschool, we always did a lesson about fire safety in October because, in addition to being Breast Cancer Awareness month (didn't the football players look so cute in all their pink accessories Sunday?), October is also, you guessed it, Fire Safety Month.

When I taught Pre-K, Grace and I always taught the kids to "Stop, Drop, and Roll." I loved that I got paid to roll around on the floor with four- and five-year-olds. We taught them to feel a door to see if it's hot before they opened it. We showed them how to "Get Low and Get Out" to avoid smoke inhalation. We taught them to never go back into the house for anything--pets, toys, parents, etc.We told the kids to talk to their parents about an escape plan. We even had the Smyrna fire department come out with a fire truck to show the kids how it worked and what firefighters do. I always put in a special request for them to send the really H-O-T firefighters to our school, because anyone who spends several hours a day with little kids deserves a little eye candy to spice things up a bit.

But I realized this morning that my own children probably haven't heard any of that since they were preschoolers themselves. So we had a mini-lesson right there in our pajamas in the Man Cave. Nine had a million What If? questions, of course, and Thirteen was busy hatching all kinds of radical escape plans involving the use of Nerf guns to break windows that he would then crawl through and Spidey down the downspouts with an invincibility that is only possessed by teenage boys. Or forty-five-year-old worship pastors, but that's another story for another day. I seem to remember this lesson being easier to teach with preschoolers.

So, even though I was rudely awakened way too early, we all learned a valuable lesson. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go take a nap and dream about hot firefighters.

To Do (Done)

2010-10-04T22:54:00.003-05:00

Here's the list of things accomplished today:

1) cleaned the upstairs, not just sort of picked up like I usually do. There was actual mopping involved, people.

2) took two bags of aluminum cans and one bag of newspapers to the Humane Society so they can get money to feed their furry charges

3) took about seven bags of stuff to Goodwill

4) loaded my car up with plastic grocery bags to be recycled, and then forgot to go to the store to recycle them

5) had coffee with my friend and blog stalker, Loren

6) Hauled all the fall/winter clothes in from the detached garage. Then unpacked, washed, dried, folded or hung all of them and put most of them away. I say most of them because my closet is too tiny to put all of them away at the same time. The rest are hanging in the laundry room waiting to see which boy's closets becomes the extension of Mommy's closet. I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, maybe just once or twice, but I have the smallest closet in the family. Just thought I'd mention that, in case you weren't aware.

7) Removed all the spring/summer clothes and put them in SpaceBags and totes. Wept copious tears of joy when saying good-bye to all my cute, strappy sandals and flip-flops (which, incidentally, filled two Sterilite 18 gallon storage containers--pink ones, of course)

8) watched my boyfriend, Rick Castle

9) pulled some of my potted plants inside since we have a frost/freeze warning tonight. Got bored with that and decided the rest of the plants can fend for themselves.

10) made sure the cat had food, water, and blankets in her igloo to survive the cold night

11) blogged this so that my stalker would have something new to read

Notice I still haven't listed "painted Thirteen's room." Sigh.

How to Ensure that I Will NEVER Buy Your Product

2010-10-03T22:40:00.005-05:00

An open letter to all companies who sell products which they advertise on television...

There are a lot of ads on TV today. This comes as no surprise to anyone who actually owns a television set, but I am still amazed at how much companies spend on television marketing. These are tough economic times, and consumers have to make important financial decisions when shopping. Therefore, I thought I'd help out those companies who are shelling out big bucks to get their share of our money. Here are the top five things that guarantee I will never buy your product:

1) Use the words "erectile dysfunction" at any point in your advertisement. So far I've been extremely lucky, but I know that at some point my children are going to ask me what that means. That is a conversation I really do not want to have, ever, in my life.

2) List side effects for a pharmaceutical product that are far worse than whatever the advertised drug is supposed to treat. You've all seen these ads. They go a little something like this:

"Side effects include dry mouth, headaches, joint pain, projectile vomiting, explosive diarrhea, and impossibly odorous flatulence. Some users report the growth of a third arm while taking this medication. If you develop neon orange chest hair or the sudden urge to sing Milli Vanilli songs while flying to the moon, please discontinue use and contact your doctor immediately. "

Er, no thanks. I think I'll just continue to be a bit depressed. Really.

3) Four words: "As seen on Oprah." Whatever she's plugging, I'm pretty sure I won't ever need it. Ever. Especially if it's a book from her book club. *Shudder*

4) Ditto any product for whom the spokesperson is a caveman, a talking dinosaur, or Marie Osmond.

5) Try to convince me (or my kids) that we will never be cool/happy/hip/smart/skinny/ or popular unless we rush right out to buy what you're selling. Sorry, I'm not that gullible and neither are my children. Shame on you. We're all just fine the way we are, thankyouverymuch.

Okay, Madison Avenue. There you have it. Please take this advice to heart and save not only a few of your advertising dollars, but my television viewing pleasure as well. Thank you.

Couch Crazy

2010-10-02T21:24:00.004-05:00

They say the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem, right? Okay, in that case, here goes...

I am addicted to couches.

There. Whew. It felt good to get that off my chest. In the past year Mom and I have moved no fewer than SEVEN couches, which means I should probably look for a twelve-step program really soon.

See, I kind of have a problem with collecting couches. It started innocently enough. When we lived in Smyrna we had an off-white matching couch and love seat downstairs in the living room, which we covered with chocolate brown slipcovers after realizing that people with small boys and black cats should NOT have off-white couches. We had a gray matching couch, love seat, and chair in the bonus room upstairs because the color theme in that room was red and black with gray. No problems, right?

Well, when we were in the process of buying our Hendy home, I knew we'd need a bit more furniture because we'd have an additional room (a den) here. I didn't want to break up our matched sets, so I bought an extra couch at a yard sale for $10 and Mom and I hauled it home in her Suburban. Since we didn't have the house yet but we'd already moved out of our other one, I stored it on Mom and Dad's patio for a couple of weeks, much to my dad's chagrin.

So a few weeks later we moved into the house and discovered that the new $10 couch was too big for the den. We switched it with the off-white-slipcovered-in-brown love seat from the living room, then bought another similar but not totally matchy brown slipcover for the $10 couch.

All was quiet on the couch front for a few months.

Then Mom and I worked a Humane Society yard sale where I fell in love with a brownish leather love seat. So, that time we borrowed PawPaw's truck, hauled the love seat to my living room, and moved the $10 couch downstairs to replace the gray couch that was beginning to show the strain of being occupied by an eighty-pound lab every day. We bought a black slipcover so it would match the music room (a.k.a. "Man Cave") theme. Then we hauled the gray couch to Mom's and dumped it at the top of her street for the trash men to take away.

Digression: Have I mentioned that the trash collectors hate me? Well, they do. I don't know what I ever did to them, but they will not haul away anything I leave at the curb. My neighbors can leave all manner of household refuse at their curbs and it gets picked up that day. I, on the other hand, have had a rusty old planter and an ancient chandelier sitting by the street for two weeks and no one in the sanitation profession has even glanced at it. Grrr...

Anyway, so I've been fairly disciplined with my upholstered furniture purchases for a few months. Then last week we found a free couch and love seat that had seen better days, but we thought it would be okay for my brother. See, he's taken out his own trash by kicking his wife out of the house. (Sorry, I'll retract my claws now, but she totally deserves that comment.) Since she'll be taking some furniture with her if she ever finally picks up her crap from his house (sorry, claws again, gotta work on that), we thought he could use them. Once we got it to his house (with the use of PawPaw's truck again), we realized it was in worse shape than we'd originally thought. Now it's waiting to be carted off to Goodwill.

So today Mom and I were out yard saling again (of course, because it's Saturday. Duh!) and we found a sleeper sofa that I could afford. I've been looking for one so that when my in-laws come to stay we can offer an alternative bedding option (other than the Aerobed, which is losing air through a slow leak so that our guests end up flat on the floor by morning--because we're givers, you see), but they were all either too expensive or in really bad shape. The sleeper sofa is a woven kind of rust and brown combination that would be really pretty if it weren't unraveled in a couple (okay, several) places, but it'll look great with a slipcover on it. And I just happen to have a couple of those lying around. Ha!

So, you guessed it, we borrowed a truck (this time my brother's) and brought home the sleeper sofa, then hauled the old $10 couch to Goodwill (because the couch I'd been sitting on for months was not good enough for my brother to put in his garage TV room). What a couch snob!

I washed all the covers that would unzip in the washing machine, then shampooed and vacuumed the parts that aren't removable, and sprayed antimicrobial Febreeze over all the cushions. Now I have a new (to me) sleeper sofa.

So there you have it. Seven couches moved in less than 16 months. There's probably a cure for this sickness, but I don't want to know. I don't suffer from my insanity--I enjoy every minute of it.

And don't even talk to me about shoes. Just don't.

Fall Break Madness

2010-09-30T21:48:00.003-05:00

What better way to celebrate eight weeks of teaching and eight hours of parent conferences than an MRI at seven o'clock in the morning? Because that's how I roll.

After the joyous experience that is an MRI, I'm going to get my hair did because I'm not enough of a glutton for punishment to schedule dental work on the same day as an MRI. Well, not again, anyway. My hair is almost long enough to reach my shoulders again. Even though I swore the last time I got it cut short that I would keep it short forever, I'm starting to crave ponytail simplicity again. I think I'll grow it out a little, but not halfway-down-my-back, donating-to-Locks-of-Love long. Again. That was madness.

Then I think we'll spend Saturday painting the teenager's room. I hate painting almost as much as I hate dental work, but it's time. We've lived here a year and nearly four months and I've wanted to paint that room since we first looked at the house. I'm thinking that the walls will be the lighter blue of the Titans logo. Then I'm going to borrow a projector from school and paint the logo in the center of the wall above his bed. It would be so much easier to buy those life-sized cut-outs of the players but, with my luck, I'd put Chris Johnson on my kid's wall and then he'd get traded to another city. (C.J., not my kid. Trust me, if that were an option, he'd be in Detroit already.) Plus those things are like $85 and paint is cheap. Well, cheapER, anyway. Who knows what it will cost me in time-on-task.

After that, I have to unpack all the fall/winter clothes and pack up the spring/summer clothes. Then grade a metric butt load of papers, upload the grades to the online gradebook, plan lessons, create tests and quizzes and study guides, and reorganize my reading and math stations.

Because, you know, I'm OFF WORK this week.

Ahhh, I love fall break.

Thirteen

2010-09-25T22:12:00.003-05:00

I am now the parent of a teenager. For the next ten years and six weeks we will have at least one teenage boy living in our house. Not that I'm counting or anything.

Friday night the teens and tweens descended on our domicile in all their pimply, squeaky-voiced, nearly man-sized glory and ate everything they found in our kitchen. The six boys managed to eat two pizzas, several bags of chips, about a dozen popsicles, a box of cinnamon sticks, and two batches of homemade (by Dan, of course) pancakes. It was kind of like a car wreck--horrifying to watch, but I couldn't look away.

They built a Lego battle ship, played several games of Guitar Hero, had an air hockey competition, a darts tournament, and chased each other through the house for hours in some big, complicated Nerf gun battle, which resulted in a broken door. I don't want to know how. After Dan got home from his gig at 12th & Porter last night, I tagged him as the P.O.D. (Parent on Duty) and fell asleep. I'm pretty sure the kids went to sleep at some point, but I can't prove it.

There were a few real conversational gems last night:

1) Thirteen said, "I hate when you drink Sprite and then burp. I feel like I just tasered my nose."

2) [While building a Lego Star Wars Turbo Tank in his bedroom]
13: No fighting or farting in my room.
Boy 1: Too late.
13: Okay, no MORE farting in my room.
Boy 2: [toot sound, followed by giggling] Too late again.
13: What? Were you people raised by wolves?
Boys: [more giggling, more toot sounds]
13: Remind me why I invited you guys over again.

3) [the next morning]
Me: Boys, your moms are going to be picking you up at 10:00.
Boy 1: When's 10?
Dan and I, in unison: Um, after 9.
Me: You guys all met in Search class, right?

As uncertain as I am about what the teen years will bring, I am confident that Ryan will continue to be the great, wonderful, annoying, smart, and sensitive kid he's always been.

I Can't Feel My Fingers

2010-09-19T21:21:00.003-05:00

Friday night we parked the kids at Grama's and went on a double date with some of our favorite people from our "new" church. One of these days I'll have to stop calling it our "new" church because we're pretty much a fixture there now every time the doors are open and we don't feel like newcomers any more.

Anyway, we had a great evening full of Japanese food, friendship, and Rock Band. Dan and I were Rock Band virgins, so we relied on the Echols to school us because they are wise in the ways of Rock Band. They are seriously good. At first I refused to play any instrument (other than my voice) because I didn't want to be responsible for making the band get booed off the stage. I tried drums and, while I showed a little improvement after a few songs, I still pretty much sucked at it. Then I tried guitar and made it through a few songs on the easy level without making the entire band fail. Then I tried bass guitar and something kind of shifted inside me. It was fun. Really fun.

Granted, I still sucked at it, but it I sucked slightly less at bass guitar than I did at the other instruments. At one point, I was playing along with our foursome while belting out Bon Jovi's "Livin' on a Prayer" and I looked over at Dan. He was grinning at me with a look that I've grown to recognize over the years--a look that means trouble. He was digging watching me play the bass. I could tell. I casually, jokingly mentioned that I might want a bass guitar. And Loren and Aaron were witnesses so I couldn't take it back.

The very next day Dan went down to Sam Ash and bought me my very own bass. He was getting some other stuff for himself too, but he brought that guitar home just for me. He's been wanting me to learn to play bass for years. Apparently all it took was just a tiny glimmer of an interest on my part to justify the expense.

Last night I sat down with my shiny new bass while Dan was practicing his electric guitar for the praise band in today's service. He showed me how to play a few notes and I was off. I managed to play along with every song he played. I didn't play well or with any great style, but I managed to find all the notes reasonably close to the right tempo. And it. was. fun.

Of course, today I'm struggling to type this because I can't feel the fingers on my left hand, but it was worth it.

New bass guitar...$80
Lessons...free
Impressing my husband with my mad bass-playin' skeelz...priceless.

In Which I Develop Arachnophobia

2010-09-15T22:51:00.006-05:00

Let me begin by saying that I've never been afraid of spiders. I don't particularly care for inadvertently walking through a web, but the spiders themselves are not a major problem for me. If I see a spider in the house, I just take care of it myself. I do not stand on chairs, squeal like a girl, or beg my husband to kill it for me.

Some of you might be thinking, "What about cave crickets? Aren't you afraid of them?" Well see, that's another story. Cave crickets are not technically insects or arachnids. They are the devil with an exoskeleton.

So anyway...spiders. After tonight I will probably develop a healthy fear and respect of them and steer clear when I see one. Because tonight we had a scene in the basement that would've been right at home in a Ridley Scott movie.

There was a spider crawling along the baseboard behind the keyboard. Nine was trying to practice his piece for piano lessons, but he was worried about that spider. Dan waited for it to move away from the wall enough so he could squish it. Nine and I were busy looking at his homework Dan waited to flush out the critter.

All of a sudden, we heard a surprised yell erupt from the other side of the room. Dan had tried to kill the spider by stepping on it, but when he smooshed it, several baby spiders came bursting out and started crawling in every direction away from their dead parent.

Full. Body. Shudder.

This memory, plus the dark chocolate-covered espresso beans I scarfed earlier with a diet Coke chaser, will keep me up all night.

Releasing the Kraken

2010-09-12T21:31:00.010-05:00

Remember a couple of days ago when I admitted that I often include potty humor in the blog because I live with three dudes? Well, this is one of those times. If you're easily offended by poop jokes, this would be a really good time for you to log off the computer and go have a snack.

Okay, so if you've followed my blog for long, you know about the "cloud of despair" and the "one giant sniff for mankind." And if you don't, feel free to make clicky and go find out what I mean. Go ahead. We'll wait for you.

Oh, good you're back. We were getting worried. So anyway, since I'm so well-read, I have it on good literary authority that everyone poops. My man cubs just have very vivid descriptions of the whole "getting rid of waste" thing that everybody does. They came up with a new line (with their daddy's help) after watching Clash of the Titans recently. This will be a lot funnier if you've seen it too. If not, well, you could always join the others for that snack.

Nine had just fouled up the atmosphere in their shared bathroom and Twelve was not pleased about it. He whined to his dad about the stink cloud, so Dan told Nine that from now on, he needed to remember to use the air freshener spray whenever he "released the Kraken" in their shared bathroom. And just like that, a new potty phrase had been coined.

Fast forward a couple of days later. This time Twelve was the one who had "released the Kraken" in the bathroom. He came out, trailing a stench cloud behind him and said, "Let them know a man did this."

It was a very proud moment for their father, who I'm fairly certain sprained something laughing at his son. I was just grateful that the princess has her own bathroom.

The Aliens Got My Baby

2010-09-11T22:02:00.002-05:00

My good friend Tina Foster warned me it would happen. She is wise in the ways of parenting boys, since she has two boys of her own. The difference is that her youngest is about seven years older than my oldest, so she's been where I now stand: on the precipice of the rocky abyss that is otherwise known as parenting a teenage boy. She told me that lo about the time that my cub turned 13, aliens would take him and replace him with a surly, snarling, eye-rolling facsimile of the sweet boy I'd once rocked to sleep. Boy, was she right. He'll turn 13 in eleven days, if I decide to let him live that long.

Twice this week I've tried to reason with an unruly, unreasonable, unrelenting, fit-throwing toddler trapped in a pimply, nearly man-sized body. I blame the aliens. Within twenty-four hours after the fit, he was back to his "normal" self: offering to do chores without being told and speaking in a calm, non-shrieking voice.

Today we were talking about the other night when he was in the middle of an all out tantrum. I told him that next time (because I'm NOT naive enough to think that this won't happen again) I'm not going to try to reason, argue, explain, or even placate him. I'll just say, "Son, you're clearly not yourself. I will deal with you tomorrow when the aliens return with the real you. Until then, go to your room and avoid all human contact." He agreed that might be the best plan.

I hope the aliens leave him alone for the next couple of weeks so that he'll actually get a chance to turn 13. It's really hard to plan a party and buy presents for someone whose face you want to rip off.

A Ministry? Gulp!

2010-09-08T22:19:00.003-05:00

Here's another reason I haven't written much here lately.

A very nice lady at church killed my blog. No, really.

See, she came up to me at church one Sunday morning this summer and said something along the lines of, "I read your blog. It is such a ministry."

A ministry? Eh?

You mean I'm supposed to be writing inspiring, uplifting blog entries for fellow goody-two-shoes Christian women to read? What? I thought this was just a place for me to whine and moan about things that bother me because it's the only place I can do that without annoying the people I live with. I thought it was a way to keep in touch with my out-of-town friends. Now I'm supposed to write good stuff? Um....I got nothing.

One innocent, well-meaning comment in Sunday School and BAM! my creative juices immediately dried up faster than a Hollywood starlet about to lose a big movie contract. Really. I couldn't write a word because I kept thinking to myself, "I can't say that. People will read it and be disappointed. Because this is a ministry."

Here's the real deal, folks. This blog is NOT a ministry. I am not a role model.

Wow, that was weird. I'm pretty sure I've never quoted Charles Barkley before. Huh. "I'm not a role model... Just because I ~~dunk a basketball~~ write a blog doesn't mean I should raise your kids."

Anyway, of course I'm a role model for the kids in my class. I model appropriate behavior, problem-solving skills, and study habits all day long for nine- and ten-year-olds. But serving as a role model of Christian behavior for other adults? Um, gee, no thanks.

Just in case you haven't already figured this out, I'm kind of irreverent. I can be really cranky, snarky, and bitchy, sometimes all in the same blog entry. I occasionally use bad language. I tell fart jokes and all manner of potty humor because I live with all men. I've been known to give in to the urge to gossip. I sometimes consume "non-Baptist" beverages because, much like Gladys Hardy, that old lady on the Ellen show, "I love Jesus but I drink a little." I don't remember to do my daily devotional or keep up with my Bible study like I should. I yell at my kids, my husband, and my dog. I make fun of rednecks at Wal-Mart. I use derogatory terms like "redneck."

See what I mean? NOT a role model.

But now that we've got that out in the open where it belongs, I'm going to continue writing what I write because that's who I am and how I roll. Take me or leave me, peeps. I just wanted you to know that if you're offended, I'm going to be okay with that. Because I warned you. And I'll pray for you, if I don't fall asleep in the middle of my nightly prayers, like I sometimes do. There, I said it.

A Praise and a Warning

2010-09-07T20:56:00.003-05:00

It was an eventful Labor Day weekend for the Brewers.

Friday night was the home run derby at BBC. I wasn't planning to enter the contest, so I showed up after work in a skirt and heels. Well, after a little encouragement from our pastor, I kicked off my shoes and grabbed a bat. No one was as surprised as I was when I hit three home runs and won the women's division of the competition. Twelve won the kid's division, so the Brewers had all kinds of bragging rights going into the tournament. Unfortunately, the bragging stopped there.

Saturday we played in the BBC Wiffleball tournament, teaming up once again with the Echols crew. This time we were The Supers. That was our team name, not a description of our playing skeelz. What? We're supposed to look fabulous AND play a good game? Too much pressure. We just focused on having fun.
As you can see, we all wore superhero costumes: Batman, Spiderman, Superman, The Incredibles, the whole Marvel lineup, the Incredible Hulk, the Punisher, and Ryan who was wearing a "God is my Hero" shirt. You can't see me, the midget, back there in the back row, but I was wearing my Super Grover "Superfly" T-shirt. Because I'm cool like that. Like how I was so cool when I fell rounding second base (trying to be greedy and take more bases than I should rightfully take) and commando crawled back to the base to avoid getting tagged out. I was safe, but it wasn't pretty.

Then on Sunday, we were the victims of a hit-and-run driver. Dan and I had been at praise team practice really early in the morning, and then we came home to pick up the kids before church started. On the way through our neighborhood, a blonde on a cell phone plowed through a stop sign without even braking and slammed into the back of our car. Luckily, Dan has Jedi-like reflexes and saw her coming in his peripheral vision. He sped up just enough so that she hit the back quarter panel instead of the back passenger side door where my oldest child was sitting. For a split second, I saw Twelve's life flash before my eyes and thanked God that he wasn't hurt.

We pulled over to assess the damage, but the other driver took off. Long story (and a case of mistaken identity) short, the police didn't find her but they're still looking. Right. You know what that means. I won't be counting on her paying to fix my car any time soon. But the important thing is that no one was hurt and my car is still driveble. Ugly, but drivable. Hey, it's a 1999 Camry that only gets washed about once a year, so it wasn't much to look at even before the wreck. AND we made it back to church on time to sing/play guitar in the praise band, so it all worked out.

Monday I was attacked by cave crickets, my arch nemesis, while cleaning out the garage. The final score was Cave Crickets: 0, Teble: 16. It may have actually been higher than 16, but I lost count when several of them jumped on my legs at once and I went ballistic batting at them with a broom. I'm pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes right before I snuffed out the lives of those vile insects.

Monday night we went to our Sunday School teacher's house for a cookout and swimming party. At one point Nine fell off the raft he was floating on and panicked when he couldn't touch the bottom. He started flailing around and crying for help. I kicked off my shoes for the second time that weekend and was ready to dive in to save him, when his older brother (who also can't swim, but was tall enough to touch the bottom) jumped in and saved his brother's life. At that point I saw Nine's life flash before my eyes and realized that if this weekend didn't end soon, our good luck might just run out.

So, God has kept us under a circle of protection for the last few days. But, you might not want to stand too close to any of us, just in case our weird voodoo hex is contagious and our circle of protection doesn't expand to outsiders.

Consider yourself warned.

August Flew By

2010-09-06T19:54:00.003-05:00

It has been brought to my attention (by my blog-stalker: Hi Loren) that I haven't updated my blog recently. Yeah, I know. School started and my life has been all about lesson-planning and paper-grading. But I've left out some pretty important events that I need to share.

The most important is that our whole family was baptized on August 15th (Dan's birthday). Dan was baptized when he was eight-years-old and I was sprinkled in the Methodist church when I was a kid, but we both wanted to recommit as a family. Pastor Matt dunked Dan and me, then Dan baptized both of the kids. What was really cool was that 14 people were baptized at my church that morning. What's even cooler is that it's not an enormous church, so 14 was a really, really big number. I was so thrilled to be a part of it. Dan turned 45 that day, so now I am officially married to an old man.

I mentioned before that Dan was playing guitar with the praise band, but I don't think I mentioned that I started singing with the praise team this summer. It's been so much fun! Ron Foster, the worship leader, has me singing alto, which is out of my comfort zone since I've always sung soprano, but I'm learning. It's fun to learn new things in our old age, right? Keeps the brain fresh. We're also rehearsing music for the Christmas program. I haven't done one of those in a few years, so I'm looking forward to that too.

My class this year is, ahem, challenging but going well so far. I have 20 kids in my class. I already knew most of them before they walked in my door because they're Nine's friends. It's weird having Nine in the same grade level that I teach, but it's nice too.

I'll try to update more frequently, if for no other reason than to give my "fans" (cough, cough) something to do to keep them off the streets.

Back to School

2010-08-14T23:04:00.002-05:00

I just realized that I haven't updated the blog since July. So here's my update:

School started. Have no life. More later.

A Bit Blue

2010-07-26T20:35:00.002-05:00

I'm feeling just a bit blue tonight, so it's time to give myself a pep talk and get over it. But first, here's why...

I'm feeling a bit left out, out of sorts, and cranky. See, a good many of my writer friends and Seppie friends and Cherry friends are in Orlando. Without me. It would be bad enough if they were all just there having a great time without me if I were still writing, but it's even worse since I haven't written a word all summer. Well, except blogging and Facebook, which totally doesn't count. I ditched all my WIPs (and even the little glimmers of ideas that might have become WIPs) a couple of years ago when I decided to go back into teaching, but I told myself that I'd pick it back up again when things settled down. And, of course, I haven't. If I have a few minutes of spare time, I'm usually playing around on Facebook (darn you, Bejeweled Blitz--why do you have to be so addicting?) or reading someone else's work. And now I'm kicking myself because RWA National is just another reminder that I haven't been writintg--that I am letting a dream fester and die because of busy-ness, laziness, and self-doubt. Not only that, but my buddies are having a great time and I'm not with them. If it had been in Nashville, I'd at least get to drive into town and visit everybody, but there's no way I could fly to Florida the weekend before school starts. Stupid flood. (Laura Z, if you click that link, you'll see the areas we walked with you and James were completely underwater back in May.) Stupid Opryland Hotel underwater. So I'm a little sad. Sigh.

My Smyrna friends are moving on without me too. My TFAA friends are getting the phone calls to tell them which teachers their kids will have this year and I'm sitting here wondering who my kids would have if we'd stayed there. Which of their friends would be in their classes if we'd stayed? Which parts would they have performed in the plays at school? I know that I had to go back to work and I really believe that moving to Hendersonville was God's plan for us. I'm glad that I got my job when I did because Linens N Things closed just a few months later and we'd be in big trouble if I hadn't had a job then. But even so, I still second-guess that decision every few weeks. Will my kids suffer because we pulled them out of the magnet school? Are they better off here? Do they miss their friends horribly, or have they formed even stronger bonds with their friends up here? I love our new church, being close to my family, our new house, my co-workers at NBE, but I still wonder what would have been. I guess I always will.

I'm excited about the school year that's about to start, but I can't help but be apprehensive too. I know first-hand how hard fourth grade is, and I worry about my own sweet fourth grader. He's just not ready for the academic challenges that he'll face this year. None of them are. Last year's class was so awesome that I worry this new class will not compare favorably. This will be my tenure year, so there's an intense amount of pressure on me to be incredible. My evaluations last year were really great, so I'm going to have to totally blow it out of the water in order to show growth on my observations. I know I'll be fine once the year gets started, but right now the fear of the unknown is weighing heavily on my mind.

And finally, I have to go in for my six-month diagnostic mammogram next month. After all the garbage I went through last August with the lumpectomy and everything associated with it, I can't help but feel a little nervous. Plus, I'll have to miss at least a half-day of school and anyone who knows me knows how much I HATE to take a day off. Writing sub plans is worse than scrubbing toilets, trying on bathing suits, and shaving with a dull razor. Combined.

Thus, the whining. I'll be fine and will get over myself really soon. I'm going to pray about it and give it all over to God tonight.

But first I need ice cream.

Wedding Slide

2010-07-15T23:30:00.001-05:00

Brotherly Love

2010-07-09T22:50:00.017-05:00

Nine is going to be a ring bearer in my friend Brandy's wedding tomorrow night and tonight we went to the rehearsal dinner. I was trying to get a nice picture of him before we went. It started out innocently enough and I managed to get a couple of decent shots...

<------See how cute he is? How handsome and charming?

Adorable, right?----------->

And then things took an ugly turn. Twelve decided he wanted to get in on the action. Literally. They insisted that I take some action shots. See, this is what happens when you have only boy-type children. Girls want to pose sweetly, all smiley-faced and pretty. Boys want to simulate WWF posters. These are the shots I ended up with...

This whole raising boys thing is not for the weak. Although the flowers in the background add a somewhat dignified flavor, don't you think?

Cow Appreciation Day

2010-07-09T13:23:00.008-05:00

Today was Cow Appreciation Day at Chick-Fil-A. If you dress like a cow, you get a free meal. Well, Nine and I were all for it. I love free food and he loves dressing up in costumes. But even better than free food, it totally annoyed the twelve-year-old to be seen in public with us. Mommy SCORE! See how delighted he is?I told him that he didn't have to dress up, but if he didn't want to, then he'd have to pay for his own food. Sometimes being a Mom is just plain fun.

When we got there, dozens of other people got in on the fun without being embarrassed. We had Young and Hip cows...And Red Hatter Cows...
And a ton of Adorable Little Kid Cows, but I didn't feel right about putting a picture of a complete stranger's kid on the internet. But I can put THIS adorable kid's picture on here because he's mine.
We had a great time (once Twelve got over the I'll die if I see anybody I know phase) and saved $15.57 on our meal.

Free food, fun, and humiliating my tweeny-bopper...priceless.

Imperfect

2010-07-04T22:44:00.002-05:00

In which I gush some more about my church, which our pastor refers to as a church full of imperfect people. But I have to say, some of them are pretty close to perfect in my eyes.

We just wrapped up an awesome weekend of fellowship in the form of a wiffleball extravaganza. Today my husband played in the praise band for the first time. Our worship pastor let Dan borrow a couple of very expensive guitars simply because he doesn't have a lot of time to play them himself. We haven't known these folks very long, but he trusted Dan with these instruments anyway. The band sounded great and Dan had a blast playing with them.

When I picked Nine up from his Sunday School class today, he had a nice printed card which said this (Matthew 5:14-16) on the outside:

You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise you father in heaven.

Then on the inside it said:

Let your light shine!
This is how Aaron's friends see his light shining.
He is nice, kind, and smart.
He is very smart.
He always speaks the truth.
He is the bestest friend in the world.
You are a very good friend.

I love that this is how his friends in church see him, because that's the way we see him too.

When we got home, Nine told me that he wanted to work on a surprise for me so I needed to stay downstairs for a while. I went outside and sat on the swing with the dog and cat until I was allowed to come upstairs. When I got to the kitchen I saw that Nine had emptied the dishwasher all by himself. He's been learning about responsibility in Sunday School, so he wanted to do chores to show me that he is responsible. I love the way he takes what he's learning and finds ways to apply the lesson at home.

We are so lucky to have such a great children's pastor and awesome teachers at church. I'm praying for them this week as they go to CentriKid camp. I'm so glad God led us to the church where we belong.

I'm also praying that God will help the student pastor work a miracle with Twelve's attitude. :-) Hey, he parted the Red Sea and turned water into wine and fed 5,000 with a few fish and loaves, so...miracles can happen.

WiffleMania Games 2 and 3

2010-07-03T14:52:00.004-05:00

Team Echols/Brewer (a.k.a. The Heat) won our second game against Team Swaby. There were many awesome moments of the game but my personal favorite was when Nine hit a triple! He was the last batter of the inning because we're only allowed to bat around our roster one time. Since the inning would be ending no matter how he hit, Dan kept waving Nine on past every base. The other team finally tagged him out at home plate, but not until he'd racked up a few RBIs. Twelve also got a couple of hits and made some good plays at second base. We won 11-4 (I think that was the final score.)

In Game 3 we played against Team Tyler and lost. I don't even know what the score was. By then I was too tired and hot to care. We didn't lose by a lot (maybe four runs), but I was not disappointed. I was ready for lunch, a shower, and air conditioning.

But forget the score, some of you are saying...what did you wear? We dressed as tourists on Earth because our permanent home is in heaven. We tried to make it Biblical so God would favor our team. Check out the Hawaiian shirts on my family. We were ready for a luau!

Wiffleball 2010 Game 1

2010-07-02T21:21:00.004-05:00

I've never had so much fun being totally whooped up on in my life.

Tonight our church held the first two games of the July 4th weekend wiffleball tournament. Game 1 featured Team Tyler VS the "Fruits of the Spirit." Each player had their own T-shirts made with their name and their "fruit" on the back. Yes, they are overachievers. My favorite Fruit was our Worship Pastor, Ron Foster, who was "Beans." Think about it for a minute...

Beans, beans, the Musical Fruit... (Get it? He's the Music Guy?) For those of you not familiar with the rhyme, here's the one I grew up with:

Beans, beans, the Musical Fruit
The more you eat 'em, the more you toot.
The more you toot, the better you feel,
So let's eat beans with every meal.

Apparently Yankees learned a different rhyme because my Ohio hubby learned this rhyme growing up:

Bean, beans, they're good for your heart.
The more you eat 'em, the more you fart.

Personally, I like the Musical Fruit better because it's ever so much classier. But, alas, the Fruits lost--mostly due to the efforts of the nine-year-old pitching phenom on the other team. Seriously, there should have been some MLB scouts out there watching this kid.

We played in the second ~~slaughter~~ game of the night against the student team. This was a group of very talented teenagers who outplayed us in every aspect of the game. Except one.

We looked cool.

We were rocking the uniforms. (I got schooled by the children's pastor, Loren Echols, for calling them "costumes" yesterday so I made sure to say "uniforms" tonight.) Either way, we really presented a unified, very intimidating, picture. Well, check out the slide show below and see for yourself...

I know, right? It's really shocking that we lost 14-5, isn't it?

My favorite moments of the game were when Dan hit an over-the-fence homerun (we won't mention the two times he struck out first), when Nine got a hit and scored a run, and Rosi's amazing catch up against the fence in left field. Thanks to Matt Tyler for his mad umpiring skeelz, Pastor Matt for shooting the video montage that I'm pretty sure I don't ever want to see, and Kim King for taking the above pictures with my camera.

Since it's a double elimination tournament, I'll add an update tomorrow with pictures from our next game so you can see our next amazing ~~costumes~~ uniforms. I'm about 99.99% positive that we will not need to break out our ~~costumes~~ uniforms for the championship game on Sunday. Darn, because I was going to dress as the Princess Wiffle, complete with rhinestone bling and a tiara.

Postal Surprise

2010-06-29T17:13:00.001-05:00

When we where on vacation last week in Ohio, the boys and I went to a WalMart in New Boston, OH. As we were walking along near the cash registers, my twelve-year-old found a ten dollar bill. He immediately (without prompting from his mother) took it to the customer service desk to turn it in. They took his address and said that if no one claimed it, they would send it to him.

Well, I never thought we'd see that money. I figured one of the employees would pocket it. Shame on me for not having faith in my fellow man. Twelve got a letter in the mail today from that WalMart with a ten dollar bill and a note that said, "Thank you for your honesty. You were a very special customer to us. :-)"

Of course, now Twelve wants to go to WalMart to spend that money, so the company benefits too.

Home to the Meat Locker

2010-06-26T18:42:00.004-05:00

We are back from the annual Brewer family reunion in Ohio. I think I lost a couple of pounds on the trip. It's hard to eat when you're biting your tongue.

We came home to air conditioning (after TWELVE days without it when the temperature was in the freakin' NINETIES) thanks to our warranty company's finally deciding to grow a pair and make a decision to replace the unit. Apparently being spineless is not just limited to BP execs. But hey, once they decided to man up, they put in a giant honking unit that cools my house to the point where I'm afraid to let my tongue come into contact with anything metal, like Flick in A Christmas Story. But I'm safe since I'm still biting said tongue. Am I a great wife or what?

Thanks mostly go to my mom who came over to let the Air Quest guy in so that we wouldn't have to wait another two weeks before they could get to us. Mom also cleaned out all the recyclables we had piled up in the garage and several bags of toys that the boys are probably getting rid of. She's still the bomb diggety. She also watched Lily for us, and now I have a very pouty dog on my hands. At first I thought she was moping around to get back at me for leaving her, but now I think she's depressed because she misses Camp Grama.

I was glad it was so cold in the house because it got me in the mood for the choir retreat when we got our first glimpse of this year's Christmas music. There are some awesome songs coming up and I'm excited about our pastor's ideas for the drama. It will be so nice to enjoy the holiday again this year since Dan is out of retail.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. I got new glasses today. By new glasses, I mean really new glasses. I've had reading glasses since 9th grade, and I have astigmatism. But now that I'm 41, I also have to deal with presbyopia and my distance vision is not what it used to be either. You know what that means? Progressive lenses. Which is just a nice way of saying no-line bifocals. Ugh. I'm so old. The lady at my eye doctor said it would take a while to get used to them and she was NOT kidding. I tried to wear them today, but I felt nauseous, dizzy, and headachey. My eyes ached so much after the choir retreat that I even took a nap. Those of you who know me in real life know what a big deal that is. I rarely nap on purpose (although I often fall asleep accidentally while reading) because I'm not so good with the sitting still. Hopefully I'll adjust to them soon because they're way cute and they cost me a small fortune.

Now I have to deal with the mounds of dirty laundry left from our trip. But at least it's not 101 degrees in my laundry room so I'm not complaining. Much.

Day 7 Without Air Conditioning

2010-06-15T23:41:00.002-05:00

AKA: A little slice of hell on Earth.

Yes, the heat index is still greater than 100 degrees. Yes, we still don't have AC. Yes, we need some new adjectives because cranky doesn't even begin to describe my mood right now.

I'll be back when I can post something sweet and cuddly.

Brain Melt

2010-06-12T23:08:00.005-05:00

So hot. Panting. Nearly too hot to type.

Our AC is out again and I'm melting. It's actually cooler outside than it is in my house and the repair guy won't be here until Monday.

I'd considered pitching the tent and sleeping outside, but I'm scared the fox will show up and say the vulpine equivalent of, "Hallo. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die," after the smiting prayers and subsequent fox roadkill incident(s).

Okay, if you don't read my Facebook posts, you have no idea what I'm talking about and it's too hot to explain right now. Maybe Monday.

After I've scooped my all my melted brain matter and put it back into my cranial cavity.

Hilarious Delirium

2010-06-08T08:12:00.005-05:00

Aaron has strep throat and an ear infection again and, while that in itself is not funny, he is hilarious when he's delirious with fever. He gets all loopy and makes rambling, out of the blue comments about random topics in this tiny little weak, pitiful voice. Honestly, he sounds stoned. I kept expecting him to tell me he had the munchies and to pass the Doritos.

Since Aaron waited until 5:11 p.m. to tell me he wasn't feeling well (exactly eleven minutes after the doctor's office closed), we went to Walgreen's Take Care Clinic. There were three people ahead of us waiting for school shots, but they bumped him to the top of the list because of his fever (and because those people left to go have dinner while they waited). Even so, we waited for about an hour (while he had a 102 temperature) before I finally broke down and bought him some Tylenol at the pharmacy.

When they finally got us back into a room, Aaron was asking the triage nurse about every piece of equipment she used and how it operates. Every time she came near him with something in her hand he said, "Is this going to hurt? What does it do? How does it work? Where did you learn how to use it? Oh wait, is this going to hurt?"

He said, "Last time I had strep they gave me a shot. Am I going to get a shot? I didn't cry last time, but I really don't like shots. It felt like a shark jumped up out of the ocean and bit me on the butt."

She laughed and whispered, "Well, guess what? We don't give shots here for sickness, only for immunizations."

He replied, "Oh good because I don't like sharks on my butt. What's an imm-un-i- whateveryousaid?" Then she approached him with a pulse-ox finger thingy and he said, "Hey, what's that? How does it work? Is it going to hurt?"

Then the nurse started to leave. She turned at the door and said, "The NP will be here in a couple of minutes." Aaron said, "Well, how long do you really mean, because "a couple" means two, and I'm pretty sure it'll be more than two minutes. We've been here for an hour already."

Thank goodness that nurse was amused by him, rather than offended. And, just so you know, he was right. It was NOT two minutes--more like another half an hour. During this time, he made random observations about all sorts of things in the room and asked a million questions about the difference between an RN, an NP, and a doctor in that wimpy, pitiful, feverish voice.

Then, about twenty minutes into our wait, the Tylenol kicked in and his rambling kicked up a notch as if I'd given him crack cocaine. "You know how I knew that we'd have to wait a long time? Because I knew that a couple means two because you and Daddy are a couple and there are two of you, and I knew that we'd have to wait more than two minutes because nobody ever waits for just two minutes at a doctor's office. I mean, they usually make you wait forever and you can't play with the toys because you're sick and you shouldn't spread your germs around when you're sick and anyway, this place doesn't even have toys but even if they did I couldn't play with them anyway. Hey--can dogs get sick because I really hope I don't give Lily strep throat because she's the best dog in the world and, oh my gosh--was I contagious at church yesterday? Because I really hope I didn't get my friends and my teachers sick because I love my teachers so much and they're the best teachers in the world and....."

And on and on, world without end, amen, amen.

I worked really hard to not laugh at him. Poor little guy.

Feminine Wants?

2010-06-06T18:15:00.002-05:00

On the way to Wal-Mart this afternoon, Twelve said that he "needed" some certain new toy. This, of course, prompted a discussion about the differences between "wants" and "needs." Toys are not needs; they are wants.

When we entered the store, the boys were grumbling because I made them trail along behind me to the "Health and Beauty Aids" section to get some moisturizer when they wanted to go on ahead to the toy section without me. Twelve was reading the signs aloud as we passed. Then he said, "Feminine Needs." I immediately tried to hush him, but he continued. "What the heck are Feminine Needs? Yeah, like women really NEED things like makeup and girly lotions. I'm pretty sure those are wants. "

As the old lady behind us starting choking while trying to cover her laugh, I granted them permission to go to the toy department. Unfortunately it was a little too late to avoid complete maternal mortification.

In a few years when he understands what "Feminine Needs" really are, I can't wait to replay this conversation for him. And that is a need.

Showtunes and Such

2010-05-30T13:25:00.003-05:00

In the car on the way to church today Dan and I broke out into show tunes, as we have a tendency to do. See we were talking about getting Twelve to talk to a cute girl in his Sunday school class, and Twelve told me to stop trying to be a matchmaker. Naturally, Dan and I looked at each other and started singing "Matchmaker," which launched into "If I Were a Rich Man." Twelve covered his ears and screamed at us to stop, as he usually does. We stopped just short of "Sunrise, Sunset," but only because we were tired of his complaining.

I told the boys that we were going to have a Brewer Family Musical Marathon this summer. We listed all the musicals we wanted them to watch: Fiddler on the Roof, South Pacific, My Fair Lady, Oklahoma, West Side Story...

Then Twelve jumped in and said, "Oh yeah, West Side Story. It has gang violence. We'll totally watch that one."

Where did we go wrong?

Then, on the way home from church, we were talking about their friends and their friends' parents. Twelve was talking about how one boy's dad seemed older than the other boy's dad. I said, "Well, people probably think that your parents are old too, honey." Twelve said, "Well, Mom's not old."

Maybe we didn't go so wrong after all.

In Which I Lose My Spine

2010-05-15T22:22:00.002-05:00

We have a saying here at Casa de Princess. Whenever someone is getting really whiny about something and losing the ability to make decisions, think in complete sentences, and/or stand under his/her (but usually her) own power, we say that person is losing his/her spine. I lost mine tonight.

We have to fill out these Spiritual Gifts Inventory pages for the membership class at church, so naturally I waited until the night before the class to complete it. It took me a solid hour of whining, questioning, and second-guessing every answer before I finally finished it. I can honestly say I would prefer to gouge out my eyeballs with hot cinnamon toothpicks than complete another "gifts" inventory ever again in my life. WAH! I've become spineless and whiny! It was so hard! I have no idea what I'm good at and in which area my "gifts" lie. Except that I can tell you, unequivocally, that I suck at self-analysis.

I kept trying to answer the questions the way I thought the test creators expected people to answer them instead of my first reaction. I over-analyzed every question, even the totally lame ones. I'm pretty sure I caused irreparable brain damage from thinking too hard. I do not like to examine my spiritual strengths and weaknesses AT ALL.

Although, now that we're finished, I'm pretty sure that I'm a Beaver and Dan's a Golden Retriever.

That seems to fit, doesn't it? Maybe there's something to this inventory after all. But don't ask me to do another one. Ever.

Mother's Day

2010-05-09T13:49:00.008-05:00

The best Mother's Day gift is when other people tell me how great my kids are. Here's what Nine's Sunday School teacher said when I picked him up after class today...

Her (stepping out into the hall to talk to me): I just have to tell you...he's such an unusual child.
Me (wary, because this doesn't sound like it's going to end well): Um, yeah. I know.
Her: No, I mean it. He has such humility. You just don't see humility like that in a child his age.
Me (perking up when I realize that she means unusual in a good way): Yeah! I know!

He also surprised her when he used one of last week's spelling words (incomprehensible) in a sentence. They were talking about the flooding and he said, "It's incomprehensible to me that our house was completely dry, but right across the street, our neighbor's basement was flooded."

My sweet Twelve held the door for me everywhere we went today. And I mean everywhere. Every door. I'm pretty sure he tried to hold the ladies' room door for me at one point. Then he said, "So I guess this should be called National Suck-up Day for me, huh?"

Then my sweet husband presented me with a gift certificate to Village Day Spa and a matching one for my mom so we could go together! How awesome is he? Can you say, Son-in-Law of the Year? He took the boys out to see Iron Man 2 so I could have a couple of hours of peace and quiet at home alone. Of course, I'll spend the entire time doing THEIR laundry, but it's a sweet thought.

Happy Mother's Day to everyone who is a mom or has a mom.

thank you, GLEE

2010-05-06T21:26:00.011-05:00

Today was another silver lining kind of day.

Nine had his audition for the school talent show, and his daddy said he was awesome. I'm so proud that he loves to sing and isn't a bit nervous about performing in front of people.

Then tonight Twelve had his spring chorus concert. I never thought I'd hear songs originally performed by Michael Jackson, Queen, Bobby McFerrin, Ben E. King, Bill Withers, Natalie Cole, and Journey all in the same show. I have GLEE to thank for that, since they've made old songs (especially BAD ones) cool again. They also made choreography look cool too, and the kids tonight had moves for every song. It was so much fun.

I discovered something else too--my white boy got moves. He has rhythm. But he still rolls his eyes at key points in the songs, which just proves that he's still very TWELVE.

There's nothing better in this world than watching my boys perform.

You Say It's Your Birthday...

2010-05-05T21:52:00.003-05:00

Sometimes when there's so much to say, I get really quiet on the blog. I guess it takes time to process devastation. Minor annoyances, however, are easy to verbalize. :-) But today I am very happy. Here's the silver lining post of the week...

Today was my birthday and it was awesome. My students brought me very sweet and thoughtful gifts. One boy brought me a gift bag which he called the Brewer Essentials Bag because it had all my favorite things inside: coffee and chocolate (my two favorite food groups) and binder clips and Post-it notes (because he knows I have a major office supply fetish). If he'd thrown in a Sharpie or two, I would've needed to lie down for a minute.

Then Dan showed up at lunch with a "Birthday Girl" balloon, birthday pin, and cookies for my whole class. He also brought a Disney "Birthday Princess" tiara. Here's what's a little bit pathetic...I was already wearing one. My teammates brought me chocolate cake and wonderful gifts. My room mom brought more balloons, another gift, and cupcakes for the whole class.

We had the family birthday dinner last night at Mom's house, so I had awesome leftovers today for lunch. Then Mom and her neighbor took me out to eat at my favorite Mexican restaurant for Cinco de Mayo. Mmmm. Chimichangas. The staff brought me a dessert and made me wear a giant sombrero. I wore a shirt and earrings that Mom gave me. Way too much fun!

But the best present of all was that Dan and Ryan went to church tonight to volunteer with the clean-up for flood victims. (Aaron is going to help me take some cleaning supplies over to City Hall to donate, since he was too young to help with the actual work. ) They ended up working at our neighbors' house across the street. Their basement was flooded, so my men moved furniture and boxes, ripped out carpet, the carpet pad, and the wood strips underneath.

I love knowing that I am surrounded by such Godly men. That's the best gift of all.

Nashville Area Flood

2010-05-04T08:29:00.003-05:00

"The devastation is just beyond the point of believability."

That's what one local newscaster said of the damage in middle Tennessee after receiving between 15 and 20 inches of rain in only two days. To put things in perspective for those not familiar with the climate here, that's more rain than we would normally get for all of May and June combined. That's about 28% of our annual rainfall amount, and we got it all in TWO DAYS. The Cumberland River finally crested last night at 51.96 feet, which is a record in the modern era since the TVA built dams to avoid this kind of situation. Now, slowly, the clean-up begins.

Hundreds of families have lost everything they own. Entire communities are still underwater. Tens of thousands were out of power and thousands still are. The damage to property is in the billions, and that number will continue to climb as the water recedes. Shelters are set up all over the mid-state area to accommodate the impossibly large number of people who suddenly found themselves homeless after this weekend. Water treatment plants are underwater and residents are advised to conserve water however possible. The infrastructure of the mid-state area is in jeopardy with roads, bridges, and other structures under so much pressure from the raging water. Schools have been closed all across the middle Tennessee area for two days, and those closures will continue this week.

"Well, why didn't they have flood insurance?" you might ask. Because these areas were not even in a one hundred year flood plain. We're talking about areas that have never flooded in the era of recorded history. Some of the people in the Bellevue area, where hundreds of homes are totally submerged up to the roof, even tried to purchase flood insurance when they bought their homes. They did not qualify for flood insurance because the area was not considered at risk of flooding. No one could have seen this coming.

Ordinarily, people would turn to government agencies for help during a crisis like this. But guess what, many of those agencies were in danger themselves: the Red Cross building, Nashville Electric Service, the Second Harvest Food Bank, the Department of Human Services, and several other government offices were underwater. People couldn't even go to the stadium where the Titans play to seek shelter, because LP field itself was underwater.

Historic buildings are suffering massive destruction. Tourist attractions like Opryland Hotel, the Schermerhorn, the Country Music Hall of Fame, the Opry House, and many more are underwater. We had an interstate underwater and more than 170 cars had to be towed from it when the water receded. Heck, a freakin' portable classroom was floating down the highway and imploded when it collided with a tractor-trailer truck and it was all caught on camera!!

And where is the national news coverage? The only national reporters I've seen around here are from The Weather Channel. Everyone's heard about the car bomb in Times Square and the oil spill in the Gulf Coast, but I've seen several people on Facebook who have no idea that we have our own natural disaster right here in Tennessee.

Seriously? Where's frickin' whiney, liberal NBC news? When the final damage estimates are in, I'll bet this will be more costly than the damage New Orleans suffered when Katrina hit five years ago. Where is the media? Why is this not a bigger story in the national news? I'll tell you why.

Because Tennesseans take care of their own.

I'm so proud of the way my hometown (and the entire state) have responded to this emergency. Within hours of the start of the flooding, residents of Knoxville were coming to the Nashville area with boats and emergency supplies. Locals did not blame the mayor, the governor, or the president. They pushed their sleeves up, dug in, and got to work trying to save our city. Inmates at the prison were out sandbagging around buildings, trying to protect them before the water rushed in. People whose homes were underwater did not sit around whining and expecting the government to rush in to save everyone else once they themselves were brought to safety. Even though they'd lost everything, they helped their neighbors who'd also lost everything. They didn't wait for someone else to do the rescuing.

No, they rounded up boats and searched the hardest-hit areas trying to save other people in need. They didn't say, "Oh, poor pitiful me. My house is underwater." They said, "That's all stuff. We're just glad we all got out safely. People are more important than things." Now let's help more people get to safety. Nobody said, "Where's FEMA? Where's Obama? Why isn't anyone helping us?" Neighbors helped neighbors. That's the way it should be. Heck, that's Biblical, folks!

That's Tennessee. The Volunteer State. The state I'm proud to call home.

If you want to donate to help my fellow Tennesseans, please do one of the following:

Visit www.nashvilleredcross.org and click DONATE NOW to make an online gift
Mail a check to the Nashville Area Red Cross, 2201 Charlotte Avenue, Nashville, TN 37203
Call (615) 250-4300 to make a donation by phone
Text REDCROSS to 90999 to make a $10 donation on your mobile phone

Smile!

2010-04-26T16:56:00.007-05:00

My first born child got braces today. Check him out:

He's not terribly thrilled about the whole thing, but he really likes his orthodontist. He says that Dr. Cohen is really fun and made him laugh the whole time. He loved the fact that he got to design his own removable retainer thingy. He put black and white stripes and a cross in it.

He's having a little trouble talking right now, which is really not a problem for me at all. He sounds like there's a giant cough drop in the roof of his mouth. The slobber factory is working double shifts right now, so he keeps making these really funky, slurpy noises.

Dan gave him some ibuprofen for the pain, so hopefully he's not too uncomfortable tonight. I think I'll send some to school tomorrow, just in case he needs it. Poor kid.

I sure hope he enjoys his super-straight, shiny-white teeth in a couple of years. I could've bought a used car for what I'm going to be spending on this kid's mouth.

But he's totally worth it.

Now I just hope he can remember how to brush around the braces and avoid eating all the things on the no-no list.

Tin Grins are In

2010-04-25T17:57:00.003-05:00

Tomorrow my oldest baby boy will get braces. I never had braces, but I can imagine that they're going to hurt like the devil. I know what a wimp I am when I skip a week of flossing and then my gums bleed when I pick up the habit again. Well, he's probably going to feel like that for the next two years, poor kid.

In honor of this momentous occasion, I'm going to feed him popcorn, hard candy, Laffy Taffy, and bubblegum for dinner tonight: all the things he won't be able to have for the next 24-28 months.

Because I am a good mom.

Also because I don't want to cook.

Overheard in My Classroom

2010-04-22T20:23:00.003-05:00

Girl(While working on a Tennessee History project): Did you just say your mother is trying to grow a beard?
Boy: No! I said, "I thought William Blount had a beard." Sheesh. Clean out your ears.

Girl #1 (talking to another girl about taking the state assessment): My mom said she really doesn't care if I fail the TCAP because they can't hold me back even if I do.
Girl #2: Yeah, but I heard that teachers get graded by how their kids do on the test. So we better do a good job so Mrs. Brewer will get an A because we love her.
Girl #1: Yeah, you're right. We should try hard for her sake.

Boy #1: Mrs. Brewer doesn't like it when you say fart because she says that's a rude word. You should say toot instead.
Boy #2: What difference does it make which word you use? Either way it's still air that comes out of your butt.
Boy#1: I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to say butt either.
Boy #2(sadly): She won't let us use all the good words.
Boy #1 (nodding): Yeah.

Girl (after the science test): Mrs. Brewer, those songs you taught us really helped me remember stuff. I was humming the water cycle song and I remembered about condensation, precipitation, and evaporation.
Boy #1: Yeah, and yesterday I remembered the mean, median, mode, and range song in Math.
Boy #2: Me too. (thinking) Maybe it's not such a bad thing that you go around singing all the time.

Girl: Oh, I love your toenails, Mrs. Brewer. They're so cute in pink and I love the flowers on your big toe. (Looks at my hands and sighs with disappointment.) I guess you didn't have time to paint your fingernails, huh?

I love my class.

Random Tuesday

2010-04-20T21:55:00.003-05:00

In which I ramble on about nothing in particular, but you're used to that by now. Random is what I do when I lack the energy and/or creativity to write an entire post about one topic. Or when I'm so tired I even bore myself to tears. So, here goes...

Aaron started the morning off yesterday by throwing up. I looked at him and said, "Seriously? You've had seventeen days off and you decide to get sick today? The day before TCAPs?" Yes, I'm nothing if not compassionate. Thank goodness we're so close to my Mom now. She took him to the doctor just to rule out strep throat (so he won't miss testing or infect his entire class). They said his ears were full of wax build-up. Again. Really? Seriously? Mom said it looked like two giant cockroaches had crawled up in his ears and died. They couldn't even irrigate it all out--they had to use tools and stuff to reach up in there and get it out.

And it hurt. And he cried. And I was at work.

Could you please pull that knife out of my heart? I don't think I can say enough how glad I am that we live close to my mom now, but I'm still sad when someone other than me has to take care of them while I work. I'm used to being the stay-at-home mom, not a full-time teacher.

We don't know how to prevent this from happening yet again, but it at least explains the nausea. We went swimming Friday night at the hotel...

Digression: Oops, I forgot to tell you that we took a spur-of-the-moment trip to Chattanooga Friday and Saturday. Look, I don't tell you everything, guys. Anyway, Dan had business down there so we tagged along. The kids swam (I napped and avoided having to wear a bathing suit), we spent the night, and then we did the aquarium and IMAX thing and came home in time for church the next morning. No biggie.

So anyway, the swimming probably caused the nausea because water was trapped behind all the wax in his ears. Saturday at the aquarium he complained about a headache and dizziness, but he was fine Sunday. Then threw up Monday morning. Aren't ears weird? He was back at school today, no worse for the wear.

As I mentioned, TCAPs started this morning, which means I have three more days of misery. I'd rather TAKE the test myself than stand by helplessly reading over my pumpkins' shoulders as they struggle through the tests. I hate when I can see that they've answered something incorrectly and I'm powerless to change it. But I'm SO PROUD when I see them using the test-taking strategies that I've taught them all year: reading the questions first, then going back to read the passage so that they know what to look for as they read; eliminating answer choices they know are wrong so they have a better chance if they have to guess, taking deep breaths in through their noses and blowing out slowly through their mouths. (Yes, I totally do yoga with my kids. Your point was?) Since I'm not a big fan of straight rows and totally silent classrooms, I'm just trying to get through the rest of the week. I did my job (and I did it well, if I do say so myself) all year; now it's up to them. I love this class and I know they'll do an awesome job.

I survived Pilates again last night, but it's so hard. I was thinking very un-Christian thoughts about the itty-bitty, teeny-tiny little instructor on the video tape. I don't think she eats food.

Ever.

I, on the other hand, eat enough for both her and myself. I brought my class doughnuts today (with a little note that said, "Donut you know you're going to do great on the TCAP?!" because,yes, I am that cheesy) and I had to sample them first, of course. Here's what's sad--I don't even like powdered doughnuts, but I ate them anyway. I ran/walked on the treadmill when I got home tonight to make up for it. Well, it probably only made up for ONE doughnut, but it's a start, right? I also walked the dog about two miles, but that doesn't count because she's slow and it was broken up into two different walks.

Kate Gosselin is finally going home, thank goodness. Tony showed some class and said very nice things about her at the end, but you know he was relieved that he doesn't have to work with her any more. As much as I cannot stand Pamela Anderson, she has danced well the last two weeks. It pains me to admit that, but she's pretty good. I still think she's disgustingly trampy, but it gets ratings. I'm ready for Jake to go home next because anything associated with The Bachelor is just icky.

I found out tonight that someone from my new church (hi, Loren) is reading the blog, so I have to try to be on my best behavior. We'll see how long that lasts. I'm excited about working with children's ministry on Wednesday nights this summer! YAY!

Now I need to go to bed so I can get up early and walk in quiet, boring, seemingly endless circles around the room tomorrow, observing and monitoring my students while they take the Math TCAP test. Ugh. Friday can't get here soon enough.

Mommy Home Gym

2010-04-18T17:35:00.002-05:00

I survived Pilates last Monday at church, but just barely. Who knew that a giant kickball could kick my abs so hard. I'm going back tomorrow night, so please pray.

I went out for Mexican food with some teacher friends last Thursday night, obliterating all the good work I'd done Monday and necessitating the return visit to Pilates class.

I created my own little Mommy Gym in a corner of the garage today. First I spread out a hot pink area rug with multi-colored paisley/amoeba things. I got it at a yard sale for $10 and had planned to use it in my classroom but it's too cute for school. Then I pulled the treadmill out there. Then I dragged over a little bookcase to hold my stretchy tension bands, hand-weights, and sweat towels. On top I put a portable TV/DVD player that the kids don't use anymore so that I could play exercise DVDs.

The whole area is so cute! Now if only I could make myself go out there and work out.

You Had Me at Easter

2010-04-11T22:47:00.002-05:00

I mentioned the church we visited last week. Well, this week guess what I received in the mail. Give up? It was a hand-written note from the pastor. That on its own was pretty cool, especially when you consider the anonymity of the mega church that we last attended. But guess what else was in the card.

You'll never guess.

A Starbucks gift card! So, naturally I was impressed and giddy. We'd already decided to go back this week, but that was just icing on the scone.

Oh, and I was wrong about the guy in O'Charley's last week--it was the Student Pastor, not the Children's Pastor. But when Nine walked into Sunday school today he said, "Hey, I know you!" to a kid he recognized from school. Then another kid said to him, "I remember you. You bought my Grandma's house." Small world, huh?

We all had a great time again this Sunday. We saw three people from church at O'Charley's (yes, again) after the service. I'm planning to go to pilates at the church tomorrow night. It's feeling like home, except cleaner than our home is right now.

Gobsmacked by the Spirit

2010-04-05T09:04:00.003-05:00

Our family has been thinking about finding a new church home for months now. We visited a church last summer, but it didn't quite feel right. The kids liked it because they have a great children's worship program, but I felt sort of empty. We'd just come from an enormous mega-church in Smyrna, and I never really felt like a part of things there.

In defense of that church, most of the blame is ours. Dan and I never really made an effort to connect with a small group or get involved in activities. I taught Sunday school because I felt that I should be serving, but never really felt served myself. I had friends there, but I never really joined them in anything church-related. I taught at the preschool connected with the church, Monday through Thursday, but didn't really see people I knew on Sunday. In fact, toward the end of our stay in Smyrna, I stopped going to worship altogether. I'd drop the kids at their class, and then I'd sit in the coffee shop and grade papers before reporting to my three-year-old class. The sanctuary was too cold for comfort, the music was too loud for my ears, and I got tired of repeating the same choruses over and over again. The pastor was a very nice man and I enjoyed his sermons, but I hated sitting in the sanctuary all by myself while Dan worked weekends.

So, long story longer, we have been lazy and stopped visiting Hendersonville churches to look for a new one once school started in August. Yesterday we had a list of possible churches to visit. I wanted to go to my grandmother's church to surprise her, but it's a long drive and we didn't get ready in time. We did the cosmic equivalent of flipping a coin: we decided to get ready and see which church had a service time closest to the time we were ready to go. It just happened to be Bluegrass Baptist Church, which is also the closest church, geographically speaking, to our house.

I think God was really trying to tell us something. After several smacks upside the head, we finally caught on that he was probably sending us signs that this church was the one we were looking for.

When we arrived, the parking lot greeters where so friendly and welcoming, which is kind of their whole gig, I understand that, but it still gave us a great big warm fuzzy feeling right off the bat. When we walked in, I was instantly greeted by an old friend from high school who remembered me right away. Then we met the pastor's wife who, coincidentally, is the fifth and sixth grade Sunday school teacher. Hello? Here's our sixth grader!

Then we went to the worship service. The kids went with us since we'd never been there before and didn't want to take the time to find their classes. Up front, painting a picture of rainbows after a storm while the preacher talked about God's promise to us, was a girl I was on pom-pon with in high school. She's the church's human resources person, so Dan had already met her through AFLAC. In the praise band, there was a guy Dan knows and has played guitar with before. In the middle of the music portion, the worship leader said, "Everyone in the media booth and the praise band and the choir is going to hate me right now, but I really feel like we have to do this song now." Turns out, it was one of my absolute favorite praise and worship songs at our old church in Brentwood, and I'm convinced that he chose it just for me.

Digression:For those of you playing along at home, that was two churches ago, where we were mega-involved (choir, praise band, praise team, softball, women's ministry, taught Sunday school and Vacation Bible School, and I was the preschool pastor) until I burned out. Long story, but we loved that church for a couple of years and have been looking for that feel ever since.

The sermon was great. The preacher is a real down-to-earth kind of guy. The church is a relaxed, come in jeans if you want to, kind of place and the worship experience didn't feel like a concert performance that was staged down to the last detail. Nobody made me turn and shake hands with my neighbor, which I've always hated. It's very awkward when you're new and you don't know a soul or when you're attending alone. Nothing screams LOSER like sitting alone in an auditorium with hundreds of people and being told to fellowship with strangers. Nobody made me feel guilty if I didn't feel like clapping. Nobody made me feel like less of a Christian if I didn't raise my hands up. You know, if I'm moved to do that, I will, but don't force me. I would rather have five people in authentic, heart-felt worship than one hundred raising their hands because you told them to rather than because they felt moved to. My son WAS moved to. Halfway through the music, I looked over and saw my twelve-year-old singing along, hands raised in praise, totally into the experience.

A little background on this kid, he got to a point where he really didn't want to go to church. We spent so much time at church when I was on staff, that he just flat-out got tired of being there. He wanted to stay home and play with his toys. BUT this year in middle school, he's changed.

One day last fall he announced that he needed to get to school early on Thursday because he wanted to go to FCA. I said, "You want to join the Fellowship of Christian Athletes? But you aren't an athlete. What's your sport?" He said, "Wii Sports Resort counts, doesn't it?" I couldn't argue with that logic. Since FCA starts before school at 7:00 and I don't have to be at my school until after 8:00, I was skeptical. But he's been attending consistently and he loves it. Thursday is the one day of the week that I don't have to drag that child out of bed. He sets his alarm and jumps out of bed, ready to get to school before I'm ready to leave. I've heard him talk about the songs and stuff, but I've never witnessed it with my own eyes. To look over and see my child unselfconsciously raising up his hands and belting out the praise...well, I'm getting all teared up just typing this.

Then, on the way out, Ryan ran into a friend of his from school. This is a new friend that he's been talking about a lot lately. We've been trying to get together with him outside of school and the plans keep falling through. We met his parents and set up a time to get them together on Thursday. Ryan said, "If he goes to this church, then we're definitely coming back here."

So far, everyone had received their own special little nudge from God except Aaron. He was excited about the church, don't get me wrong, but he hadn't experienced a little Holy Spirit zing of personal connection like the rest of us had. Well, we went to O'Charley's for lunch after the service. I took the schedule of events for the summer in children's ministry into the restaurant so I could tell Aaron about all the fun things they were going to do. As I was reading it, a young family was settling into the booth behind us. I recognized the mom because she's pretty and wore a bright pink shirt that caught my attention (you know me and pink), and knew that they went to the church we'd just been to. The man turned around and said, "Hey, that sounds familiar. I think I recognize that schedule." Ready for Aaron's personal connection? That guy sitting right behind him is the children's pastor! Zing!

Okay, Holy Spirit, we get it. No need to rent a skywriter or put a neon sign on our front lawn. We'll be back next week. :-)

Garage Sale Princess

2010-04-02T21:38:00.003-05:00

Today's amazing garage sale finds:

cute black pants
hot pink "wrinkly on purpose" top
black spring blazer with embroidered bright flowers
black and pink spring scarf
brown "peasant skirt" with blue embroidered flowers
three pairs of "high end" flip-flops (pink and black, pink and green, and blue)
T-shirt and sweatshirt with Ryan's school logo
whoopie cushion for the boys
spring door decorations
electronic dart board
small suitcase with cherries (to match my big cherry suitcase)
jump rope for Ryan (because he liked the one I found last week for Aaron)
jewelry (ring, necklace, earrings)
volleyball
headband
purse
a pair of sneakers for Ryan
a T-shirt for my brother's birthday which says, "out of beer, life is crap"
a big, colorful rug for my classroom
a giant (17"??) computer monitor
and, the biggest bargain of all, a two-person patio swing with cushions, a canopy, and attached drink tables for only $40!!!

Then I went to Goodwill because they have a half-price sale the first Saturday of every month. The problem? Today is Friday, only I didn't realize that until AFTER I got back home. DUH!! I'm hoping that I can take it all back and repurchase it tomorrow to get the discount. Maybe they'll feel sorry for me and give me the moron discount.

And the best part is...mom and I are going out again tomorrow with two of her friends. I LOVE spring yard sales!

Random March Madness

2010-03-31T22:57:00.006-05:00

Just a few random thoughts to get me through until spring break officially starts tomorrow at 4:00...

Today a student told me, "My mom said you'd be really skinny if you'd just drink a lot of water." I used to like that kid.

I ran early this beautiful, chilly morning under a full moon while listening to Jason Mraz sing "Bella Luna." Very cool.

I love this time of year because it's the only time you can get Reese's peanut butter eggs. They're WAY better than regular Reese's cups because of the peanut butter to chocolate ratio. Mmmm.

I hate this time of year because, either everyone in my neighborhood has forgotten to bathe this entire week, or the Bradford pears are blooming.

I love this time of year because the dogwoods, forsythia, tulips, daffodils, and plum trees are also blooming and it's so impossibly lovely.

I hate this time of year because all that blooming stuff sends my kids and me into an allergy tailspin.

I love this time of year because it's not too hot yet.

I hate this time of year because I'm still too fat for my spring clothes, but it's too pretty to keep wearing my dreary winter clothes.

I love this time of year because I can start wearing skirts and sandals again.

But I hate this time of year because I have to shave my legs every day.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with nightmares about TCAP. My students' scores, not my own kids. The ones that used to rent my womb will do fine. It's the ones I'm supposed to teach that stress me out.

Why does the super-fast-drying nail polish chip so darn soon? My nails are so stinking cute in their hot pink polish...if only it wouldn't chip two days after I polish them.

We were watching Buzz Aldrin on Dancing with the Stars the other night.

Digression: bless his heart--the man cannot dance; and how many freakin' space program/NASA/lunar landing T-shirts does he own!?! As they said on the show: We get it, already. You went to the moon. I went to Dollywood, but you don't see me wearing that T-shirt everywhere. Sorry, back to the story...

My younger son had just pooped a cloud of despair in the boys' shared bathroom. His older brother was scolding him for not using the air freshener spray before he left the bathroom. Then Twelve said, "Go back in there and see if it stinks. If it does, use the spray." Nine stood in the bathroom doorway, preparing to go in. Then he turned to us and said, very seriously, "I'm about to take one giant sniff for mankind." I don't think I've laughed so hard all month.

More reasons I love living in Hendersonville:
1) I saw twenty deer on my way home from school today.
2) My mom helped me survive the last hour of the school day when she brought me an iced coffee for no good reason except that she loves me.
3) Garage sales with Mom are way more fun than garage sale-ing alone.
4) Being employed is a very good thing.
5) Running/walking the dog along the lake is spiritually soothing--even if I have to keep pulling her away from the goose-poop buffet.
6) Having a TWO-WEEK spring break. Seventeen days off, baby!!!!

Spring Fever

2010-03-30T21:07:00.001-05:00

Somehow I have to dig deep down and find the strength to teach Two More Days before I can enjoy seventeen days off.

Lord, please give me the energy, courage, and fortitude to get through it. :-)

The Girl Cave

2010-03-27T20:07:00.003-05:00

My twelve-year-old came racing into the room and said, "Mom! Quick! Before my brother comes back, I need you to help me find a base camp!"

Me: Huh? What kind of base camp?

Twelve: You know, like a secret lair.

Me: Hello? I'm the only girl in this house. Don't you think if I could come up with some kind of secret lair I'd be in it all the time and you jokers would never find me?

Twelve: Oh yeah. Good point.

Brainy Brewer Boys

2010-03-26T22:33:00.003-05:00

I'm happy to report that none of my boys' teachers had to resort to comments like "you've reached a new level of mediocrity," on their report cards since they both made straight As.

Again.

As they have for the entire school year.

YAY!!

Keep Up the Good Work

2010-03-18T23:38:00.004-05:00

I was working on my class' report card comments tonight and I realized that I was completely abusing the phrase, "keep up the good work." I started trying out variations like the following:

You've maintained a consistent level of excellence.
Continue doing your best work.
I'm proud of you. Keep it up!
Way to go, again.
Awesome as always. (I awarded myself bonus points for the use of assonance.)

My students usually have really good grades. Most of them work very hard and most are above average, with a few exceptions. I love my class and I am truly proud of them 98% of the time. At first I sincerely meant every utterance of Keep up the good work.

But then I started running out of ideas. The praise well had run dry. For some of my students the praise came easy. It flowed from my brain, through my fingers, and onto the computer screen. I freely used adjectives like awesome, great, fantastic, super, wonderful, amazing, incredible, and a couple of times I even said tremendous. For others students, I had to really concentrate, hold my tongue just right, and do some serious creative writing just to get enough words to fill that rectangle on the card.

And I wondered why.

I started looking at the megawatt intelligence kids who always make straight As because they work hard and they care what their grades are. Then I looked at the kids who are not super-bright, but they have character out the wazoo and they work twice as hard as the straight A kids just to get Bs.

Then there were the kids who don't have the same advantages as the others. They come from single parent homes. Or homes with so many kids that the parents can't possibly give them one-on-one attention so they have to fend for themselves. Or the wonderful, caring two-parent families who are working two jobs just to put food on the table and can't be home every night to work on homework and preparing for tests. Those kids try and try and might never make above a C but they never give up.

Then there are the kids who frustrate me the most. These are the kids who have every advantage, but they take it for granted. They're the ones who don't make any effort and then act like the world owes them an apology when they make a B. The kids whose Moms make excuses for their behavior when the teachers dare to discipline them. The same kids whose Moms call the principal if their kid makes a C, because they haven't bothered to check their child's graded work each week. The parents who complain that the teacher isn't doing her job, despite the fact that said teacher has been sending home late work notices for weeks and the parents have neglected to sign them.Those are the kids for whom I struggle to write report card comments.

There are only so many ways that you can say, "Congratulations. Once again you've made the A- B Honor Roll. Because your parents have decided to show up in your life and help you out every step of the way, you continue to barely reach the bar which was set by those kids whose parents can't get off their lazy butts to help their kids score above a C. Ever. But they work ten times harder for that C than you ever thought about working for your As and Bs. Yay for you."

Or, "Congratulations on having the good fortune to be born to a rich father so that your Mommy can stay home and devote her every waking moment to you and the completion of your homework. Because of her efforts, you've made the Honor Roll once again. Whoopdy Freakin Doo."

When what I really want to say to some of my kids is, "Way to go, punkin. Despite the fact that your parents suck at life, you've once again managed to score in the dead center of average. You've landed in the 50th percentile for your grade level completely independently, without the help of any responsible adult in your life. I'm so proud of you. Keep on truckin."

ARGH! See why I stopped at "Keep up the good work"? I should never be encouraged to write what I really think.

Wait. What?!

2010-03-17T23:06:00.002-05:00

Two different conversations overheard in the car today on our very short commute home from school...

Nine: We had two different colored balls, but neither one of them was blue.

I can only assume that he was talking about playground balls at recess. Because I have a twisted mind and I'm very immature, I found this sentence hilarious.

Twelve: Aw, look at that cute little kid playing in his yard.

With a very large stick.

Which he's wielding like a giant sword.

Yikes. His parents might want to consider anger management classes or something.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, my kids are as weird as their mother.

Grounded?

2010-03-15T19:18:00.002-05:00

My oldest child just walked into the den, where I was deeply engrossed in Wheel of Fortune and asked me, "Uh, Mom? Didn't you ground me yesterday for something?"

Me: Um. Yeah. I, um, I kinda forgot about that.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah. Not my best parenting moment, huh?

Him: I don't mind it so much.

Me: Well, it kind of robs me of some of my parenting power, don't you think?

Him: It's okay. I'll pretend I'm terrified of you again tomorrow.

Me: Thanks, kid. You're all heart.

Him: What can I say? I'm a giver.

It All Started with a Tooth

2010-03-14T22:41:00.004-05:00

It began with a tooth. A tooth, I'd like to point out, which wasn't bothering me one little bit.

I went to my regular six month dental check-up in the fall. Both my dentist(who I've been seeing since I got my first tooth) and his son (who is his dental practice partner) agreed that this one particular tooth had some serious issues. They said it would need a porcelain onlay (whatever the heck that is) and I would need to do it fairly soon. Even though the tooth wasn't hurting me at all, I signed up for an appointment to get this onlay on December 22 because I'd have the day off from teaching. I also scheduled a breast MRI that same day because, not only am I a glutton for punishment, I'd be leaving to visit the in-laws the next day and wanted to get it all over with.

So, three days before Christmas, I forked over $400 to fix a tooth, at which point I discovered that "porcelain onlay" is a fancy word for "tooth-colored crown." I also discovered that my neat little plan to take care of everything before we left town had just crashed and burned. They were supposed to make the crown there in the office and have me all set to go in one visit. But there was a problem with the crown, they couldn't make it right, and would have to send it off to the lab to be made. Meanwhile, they gave me a "temporary crown," which is a fancy word for, "sharp, uneven fake tooth which hurts like hell and prevents you from chewing on that side for the rest of your life." Roughly translated.

So, around comes January 12 (which, if you're doing the math like I did, you realize is more than two weeks after they were supposed to need to get my permanent crown back from the lab) and I go back to the dentist. They put the new, permanent crown on and I ask if I need to avoid anything, be careful not to chew on that side, or any other kind of warnings. Doc said, "Nope. That tooth is better than the original and should feel like you never had anything going on in there."

Right. You mean, how it felt before I let you people mess around in my mouth?

From the very first night I knew something wasn't right with that tooth. It hurt to chew there. Eating or drinking anything cold felt like needles in my jaw. Even room temperature water while rinsing my teeth after brushing felt like torture. Finally, in the middle of February, I got a frozen coffee with my mom and she saw how much pain I was in and made me call the dentist's office. I made an appointment for the afternoon of my anniversary. Glutton for punishment again, see?

They poked around, did X-rays, looked at it from every angle and then doc said that I might need a root canal. Oh goody. Because that $400 I already spent is really doing a lot for me. Doc said that the tooth's root might just be inflamed but not infected, so he prescribed pain pills (which made me nauseous), anti-inflammatories, and corticosteroids. A dose pack of Medrol, to be exact. And, here's a special treat...the label says that Medrol can weaken your ability to fight off infections, so you should avoid people with colds or other illnesses while on the medication.

Did I mention that I teach elementary school? And that I had SIX kids in my class out sick that week? Naturally, I got sick too. Despite taking Sudafed, Nasonex, Mucinex, and Netti-potting enough saline solution into my sinus cavities to fill the Pacific Ocean three times over, it turned into a sinus infection. I went to my doctor on Saturday morning (because OF COURSE I wouldn't take a day off work just because I was sick) and he prescribed Levaquin. He said it's a very strong antibiotic, but I would need it because the gunk in my head was so packed into my upper sinuses that I needed something with superpowers to clear it all out.

So, I started the Levaquin. The doc prescribed eleven days of it, just to be on the safe side. A few days after I took the last dose, I started feeling very itchy. I just assumed this was the natural feminine reaction to antibiotics, until it spread to my belly. Then my elbows. By the time I left work Thursday evening, I was covered in big, hot, itchy, red welts. By the next morning I was covered from my ears to my toes in hives. I finally broke down and called in a sub on a Friday, so you KNOW how bad it was. It's nearly impossible to get good subs on Fridays, and we'd just gotten a friendly reminder from our principal that if we were attempting to get a sub on a Friday, it better be because we were knock-knock-knocking on death's door.

I went to the doctor and got a shot in the butt of steroids. For those of you keeping score at home, those shots hurt. Badly. By that afternoon I was feeling well enough to drop by school for the last hour to see my kids do their oral book reports. But by 3 a.m. Saturday morning, the hives were back with a vengeance. I was clawing my skin off, despite the double dose of Benadryl. I called the doctor back and guess what he prescribed...

a dose pack of Medrol. To go with it.

Since when did my life become a grown-up version of If You Give a Moose a Muffin?

Big Ol' Mama Brag

2010-03-07T12:15:00.009-06:00

This here is a big ol' mama brag. Deal with it.

My youngest child is my sweetest treasure in life. I thank God every day that He lets me spend time with this amazing kid.

Last weekend Nine wanted to work on a big science project that his teacher assigned, but I was too sick to help him. I told him to wait until this weekend and I'd feel well enough to help him. Instead, he took out his Legos and built an entire rain forest ecosystem all on his own--complete with a well-thought-out food chain and all of the required components on the teacher's rubric. He had the flow of energy in the food chain, the living and non-living items, all of it.

By. Him. Self. This kid rocks.

Of course, it didn't look at all the way I would have done it, which is even more awesome. See, I would've taken the easy way out. I would've gone to Michael's and bought the little plastic animals, stuck them in a box, and called it finished. My kid not only did the whole thing himself, but he did it on the cheap too, which is even more fantastic. He used his imagination to make each animal and plant out of Legos. It's true, some of them aren't recognizable as the animal they're supposed to represent, but that's what the labels are for, right?

This weekend I found him a shoebox and, because I felt a little mommy guilt about not helping him at all, I painted some trees on the box for him while he played football outside with his dad and brother. Then he sat at the computer with me and I taught him how to use SmartArt to insert pictures to make a chart which shows the flow of energy through the food chain. Whenever his older brother has a project, I end up doing so much of it for him because he loses his spine, gets all whiney, and practically slides out of his chair onto the floor in a heap of helplessness. Not so with Baby Brewer. After showing him ONCE how to find, save, and insert a picture, he did the rest of them himself. He figured out how to type the text to go with each animal all by himself. When he couldn't spell a word, he looked in the rain forest book he'd checked out from the school library and looked it up himself. Yes, that's right. Not only did he take the initiative to get his own research materials at the library, he actually remembered to bring it home. SO not what I'm used to with Kid #1.

Digression: Now, don't get me wrong. Kid #1 is brilliant. He's certified gifted, extremely intelligent, freaky-brained in math, and he makes straight As without really ever trying. That's the problem, I think. He's never really had to work for his grades. He tends toward laziness and gets by with very little effort. Kid #2 works hard every day to earn his good grades and he has a great work ethic.

Back to Kid #2: Then he said, "Hey, wouldn't it be cool to have the scientific name for all these things?" So, naturally, he had to Google the scientific name for every organism in the whole diorama. He was only required to have about 8 labels, but he included 20 of them. He even labeled the parts of the rain forest because he'd just seen a BrainPop movie about that at school.

I tell you, it is so much fun to do projects with him because a) he loves them, b) he actually does them himself, cheerfully, 3) he gets that the whole point of the project is to learn something and he always does, 4) he always wants to do more than the basic required components, 5) he doesn't whine, act lazy, or try to get me to do everything for him because it would be faster. In fact, it took quite a while for him to type in all the labels for the project, but he never gave up or complained. I sat on my hands whenever I was tempted to take over, even though it would have been much faster for me to type it for him.

I love this kid. Oh, and here's the final project:

You can't really see all of it because of the sun's glare. But my camera's flash won't work, so we had to take a picture outside. (For those of you keeping score at home, this is the second camera whose flash I've killed in two years. That's gotta be some kind of record.)

And here's the proud creator himself:

The kid is my hero.

Facebook Killed My Blog

2010-03-04T21:43:00.003-06:00

I keep thinking of things that I want to put on the blog, but then I'll abbreviate the thought and just post it on FB as a status update instead because I'm lazy. So I haven't blogged in almost a month. I haven't even kept up with my "Books Read in 2010" entry. In short...since, apparently, that's the only way I can write these days...I suck as a blogger.

Let's see if I can recap the last month in condensed, status update-type format:

I'm over the whole winter thing. Done. Bring on the spring, allergies and all.

The fourth graders at my school have been switching classes for the last month to focus on TCAP skills that they haven't mastered yet before the big test. I hate it. Nine and ten year olds are too damn young to switch classes. It's awful. Luckily we only have to do it for two more weeks and then I get to keep my own kids all day again. Thank goodness. I love my class.

My brother is a big butthead and his wife is a psycho. My poor nephew is being raised by wolves.

My county had so many "non-snowy" snow days that we had to give back two days that were supposed to be used for conferences and teacher in-service. Hey, how 'bout if we actually go to school on days when we only have flurries? 'Cause that'd be great. I'm going to really wish I could have those days back in the middle of March when I'm ready to kick someone in the teeth.

Valentine's Day still sucks. Just in case you were wondering.

People who cannot cook should not try to do so professionally in a restaurant. People who have no people skills should not choose to be a waitress. Managers who can't do math should not try to adjust the bill. Just sayin'.

Mean people still suck too.

For the first time in about four years my oldest child brought home a school picture that actually looks as handsome as he is in real life. AND with no fever blisters. He somehow always manages to have one on picture day, but not this time. Probably because I forgot it was picture day (Mother of the Year, right) so it wasn't on the calendar, so the Herpes Fairy did not save the date. I bought the whole package because the kid is so stinking adorable.

Sinus infections, ear infections, and bronchitis also suck.

No one should ever fuss at my youngest child when he's not doing anything wrong. You really don't want to poke the angry mama bear. Really.

A pan of brownies can make a whole lot of bad things suddenly seem a whole lot better.

Women who eat all the brownies without saving any for their children should not be judged harshly. It was medicinal chocolate.

Well, I guess that's about it. Hopefully I'll manage to be more regular about blogging. Maybe there's a chewable tablet for blogging irregularity.

Blog-a-Lax, maybe?

The Difference Between my Kids

2010-02-05T21:07:00.002-06:00

I took the boys out to Subway for dinner tonight. We decided to share a bag of chips and a pack of cookies to go with our sandwiches.

Ryan scarfed down his sandwich, plowed through some Doritos, and then pulled a chocolate chip cookie out of the bag and ate about half of it in one bite.

Aaron ate his sandwich slowly, enjoyed a few Doritos before deciding they were "getting too spicy." He reached into the cookie bag, and then stopped and looked around the table. "Where's your cookie, Mommy?" he asked when he noticed there was only one cookie left in the bag.

"They only put two cookies in a package," I replied, still working on my sandwich because I'm the slowest eater in the universe.

"Oh," Aaron answered, thinking about the situation. "Do you want me to split this with you?" he offered, preparing to tear his cookie in half.

"No thanks, sweetie," I said, touched by his kind gesture. "You go ahead and enjoy it."

"You can split it with me!" Ryan shouted around his own chocolate chip cookie, which he'd just shoved into his mouth in an attempt to make it disappear.

Hard to believe they both rented the same womb, isn't it?

I'm OVER Winter

2010-02-04T21:49:00.002-06:00

Dear Mother Nature,

This was fun. Really. A good time was had by all. The boys were rocking the snow fort.

But now I'm over it. Please go away and bring spring back.

Thank you.

Moms Are Like That

2010-01-29T17:21:00.005-06:00

I just had to yell at my youngest child because he was playing with the Wii near the space heater (AGAIN!!) and he knocked it over.

His big brother quietly propped it back up while I ranted about staying in the rectangular area between the couch and the TV and how I shouldn't have to keep telling him that and how if I've told him once I've told him a thousand times to stay away from the heater because it's dangerous and he could get burned and why can't he listen when I tell him something. You get the idea.

Then the dryer buzzed and I stormed off to empty it. Then I heard the following conversation:

Twelve: Are you...crying?
Nine: (sniff) No. (sniff)
Twelve: Sorry, man. She didn't mean to hurt your feelings. She just doesn't want her babies to get hurt. She wants you to be safe. Moms are like that.

Indeed we are.

The Roller Coaster that is My Life

2010-01-24T01:32:00.010-06:00

What a difference a few hours can make. This weekend has been a whirlwind from the depths of mediocrity to the soaring heights of swankiness. I think I have whiplash.

Friday morning: I was at school conducting science experiments with my twenty students and six parent volunteers, covered in Gluep and ice cream ingredients. Two different experiments, just so you know. The kids ate the ice cream and played with the Gluep and not the other way around because I prefer to keep my job instead of poisoning my little pumpkins (most days, anyway). I had permanently green fingernails from food coloring and white streaks of borax on my black pants. There was a lingering smell of Mexican vanilla extract everywhere I went. I was the epitome of a dowdy, frumpy schoolteacher. And then the bell rang and I turned into Wonder Woman. If only I'd had her invisible plane and her smokin' hot outfit.

Friday night: In the hour and a half after school ended I raced home, walked the dog, fixed my hair, changed my clothes, touched-up my makeup, and drove across town in rush hour traffic--a drive that takes mere mortals an hour to complete but I did it in about 35 minutes. Only ninety minutes after locking my classroom door I was sipping free wine (which everyone knows is the best-tasting wine) and enjoying a five course dining experience at an AFLAC banquet with Dan. Here's the menu..

Soup:
tomato bisque
(which one of the guests at our table proclaimed tasted just like Chef Boyaredee canned pasta sauce, but I liked it--probably because I have very plebeian tastes and I like Chef Boyardee)

Salad:
(one of those fancy salads with everything but the kitchen sink thrown in and in which they very pretentiously list all the exotic greens that nobody's ever heard of and can't pronounce)

Intermezzo:
(which is a fancy EYE-talian word for a palate cleanser between courses)
lime sorbet
(which tasted like a cross between a frozen margarita and a key lime pie--two of my most favoritest things on God's green earth. Honestly, this was my favorite course of the whole evening. Too bad they only gave us about a tablespoon of it.)

Entree:
filet mignon with lump crabmeat and Bernaise sauce
some kind of fancy potatoes
(that I forgot the name of but they tasted like herbed- and spiced-up instant mashed taters)
steamed asparagus
(which I'm sure made everybody's pee smell funny later, but tasted delicious)

Dessert:
Crème brulée
(which was extremely disappointing because it tasted like runny, watered-down Jell-O Vanilla pudding mix that had been burned on top--and even my tastes aren't plebeian enough for that)

The most important feature was the open bar, which I visited frequently throughout the night. After dinner an 80s rock band played (WAY too loudly--or maybe I'm just getting old) and we danced until midnight, which I'm dearly paying for today. Day Girl wanted to lodge a formal complaint against Night Girl's abuse of their shared thigh muscles while seeing "how low she could go" dancing to Play That Funky Music White Boy. Because I'm classy like that. Day Girl insists that Night Girl should stretch thoroughly before the next evening of debauchery.

What was I wearing? I'm so glad you asked.

Since I'm a complete and total cheapskate, I wore my mom's neighbor's recent hand-me-downs: a Banana Republic skirt and top. It doesn't sound very dressy, but it totally worked when I put it all together. It was a fitted white waffle-textured button-down dressy business shirt with wide French cuffs, which I fastened with some really sparkly vintage silver and rhinestone cuff links. The skirt was straight and black with slits that ended a few inches above my knee (all the better to dance with, my dear). I started the evening with sheer hose, but got a runner about five minutes after arriving at the hotel so I was bare-legged for the evening (all the better to develop blisters on my feet while dancing, my dear).

I completed my ensemble with black shoes that had shiny leopard print pointy toes and heels, a silver and black chain belt (that almost injured a few people when the extra length of links flung around every time I swung my hips--which I did a lot of) and sparkly (BLING-tastic) rhinestone earrings and necklace.

It was fun, but fast-forward a few hours for another big change.

Saturday: I worked at school for four hours, then came home and graded papers for another four hours. I also did eight loads of laundry and shuffled kids around to their various social engagements.

I think I prefer last night's blisters and disappointing Crème brulée to today's drudgery. I could really use some more of that lime sorbet--with a little tequila.

The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly

2010-01-18T17:39:00.002-06:00

The Good: The sunny day and spring-like temperatures allowed the boys and I (and the dog) to go to the park this afternoon. (I had to work a few hours at school this morning.) The boys played on the playground while Lily and I walked our legs off all over the park and I listened to a Lisa Scottoline book.

The Bad: All the recent rain flooded many areas of the park and walking trail, resulting in very muddy boys and dog.

The Ugly: Lily decided to both eat and roll in goose poop, which meant I had to fit time for a doggie spa in my already packed schedule.

Race to the Top? Really?

2010-01-17T08:53:00.003-06:00

I haven't posted here in a while because I've been busy writing letters to my Senator and Congresswoman about the ridiculous "Race to the Top" grant that Obama's cabinet is trying to foist on the American people as a good thing. It's not.

The goals of the grant look good on paper:

Adopting internationally benchmarked standards and assessments that prepare students for success in college and the workplace;
Recruiting, developing, rewarding, and retaining effective teachers and principals;
Building data systems that measure student success and inform teachers and principals how they can improve their practices; and
Turning around our lowest-performing schools.

Who doesn't want to make education better? Who doesn't want American students to become competitive with international students in achievement? Everyone is agreed that we want our schools to be the best they possibly can be. But the way the Obama administration is going about this is just wrong, wrong, wrong. It's even worse than Mr. Bush's No Child Left Behind plan--a feat that I didn't even think was possible.

Mr. Obama said, “This competition will not be based on politics, ideology or the preferences of a particular interest group. Instead, it will be based on a simple principle—whether a state is ready to do what works. We will use the best data available to determine whether a state can meet a few key benchmarks for reform, and states that outperform the rest will be rewarded with a grant.”

Sure, sounds great right? The big problem is that Mr. Obama's "best data available" is utter crap. The data is flawed from the moment the test is created, and therefore all information gleaned from that test is useless. The only results that will come from this "Race to the Top" are that the government will wind up driving good people away from the profession. I am a damn good teacher and I love my job (at least, I would if I could cut out all the ridiculous paperwork and just focus on teaching my kids).

Here's the deal with test scores: if you teach at a traditionally high-achieving school you're screwed because the plan looks at growth from one year to the next. Nevermind that a huge percentage of the students in your school are considered proficient or even advanced--they're looking for growth. Well, if you're already earning high scores, it's nearly impossible to show significant growth. My own child made several 99s and 100s on last year's achievement tests. There's nowhere for him to go from there. On the Math section of the test last year, he made 100s in five of the seven sections of the test. If he drops even one percentage point and makes straight 99s this year, his math teacher will be considered an ineffective teacher because his scores slipped. They won't look at the fact that only one percent of children across the country scored higher than he did, they'll only focus on the fact that his scores fell compared to his scores from the previous year. Isn't that insane?

We all know that the test itself is flawed, but even using the flawed system, my test scores were up last year. Not dramatically, but my class showed positive growth from the previous year. Would it be enough for me to be considered a "high performing teacher" under Obama's plan? I really don't know.

Read here (be sure to read the comments) and here if you want to learn more. Basically this grant will use scores on tests that are flawed and biased to determine teacher salary, tenure, and benefits--tests that are taken, in my case, by a group of nine- to ten-year-olds ONE DAY in spring, which falls EIGHT WEEKS before the end of the school year (which means that we have to cram 36 weeks of standards into 28 weeks of instruction) . Tests which have no influence on the students whatsoever, only the teachers and schools "performance evaluation," and both kids and parents know this so they have no vested interest in achieving high scores.

Even assuming that this legislation makes Tennessee competitive enough to be in the running for the grant (only five to ten states will receive any of the $4.35 billion so we have less than a 25% chance of seeing any of that money), it won't benefit MY school. It will go to help the "failing" schools. But the very data that identify a school as "failing" are screwed up. I wish my governor had just said, "No, Obama, you can keep your money. The hoops we'd have to jump through to qualify for the grant are not worth the effort and they're not in the best interest of our state's kids and teachers." But he didn't.

The law passed Friday night in Tennessee. I'm happy that my Senator voted against it; I'm disappointed that my Representative voted for it. I'm furious that my union compromised with legislators to make this law happen. I realize that it could have and would have been much worse without TEA's input, but I still question why the frick I'm paying $500 to be a member of a union that's just going to roll over and let the legislators walk all over them. I'm angry that my job security is potentially on the line because of people in government who have no idea what goes on in our schools.

Bottom line: I'm scared. I'm pissed off. It makes me seriously wonder why I bother. But, I love my students and I love teaching. I just hope the bureaucrats don't drive me away from it.

You Never Expect the Quiet Ones

2010-01-03T21:39:00.003-06:00

Nine pulled a fast one on his brother tonight and impressed us all mightily with his sneakiness. None of us saw it coming because he's so sweet and quiet and doesn't usually have a mean bone in his body.

I'd just cuddled up on the love seat to pretend to watch football with Dan when Twelve came in and said, "Hey Dad! You said you'd save my seat!"

Dan shrugged and replied, "She's cuter."

Huffing, Twelve walked to the other side of the room and sat in the other chair.

Nine quietly took all of this in without appearing to be involved. Then he went into his bedroom and said, "Huh. Look at this light," while messing around with the dimmer switch. Twelve said, "What? What is it?" and got up to go check out the light. As soon as he entered Nine's doorway, the little rascal scooted out of the doorway, scampered across the room, and plopped down into the seat his brother had just vacated, laughing hysterically. It was a full, riotous, giggly belly laugh because he'd just tricked his brother out of the only seat left in the room.

It took the rest of us a minute to realize what had happened because he was so smooth about the whole thing. Twelve messed with the dimmer switch for a few seconds before he noticed his brother's laughter and realized he'd been had. "Hey!" he yelled, "Get out of my chair!" as he laughed right along with us.

I'm telling you, you have to watch out for the quiet, sweet ones.

College Fund

2010-01-02T19:55:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting here listening to my husband patiently explain to our youngest child that it's really not a good idea to have his Wii quarterback run fifty yards behind the line of scrimmage. Or attempt a 93 yard field goal. Okay, so we're not holding out a great deal of hope for an athletic scholarship.

Then my oldest cub scolded the two of them for leaving a Wii disc out on the floor. When they explained that they left it out because they're planning to play it again soon, Twelve said, "Well, it's really irresponsible to leave it out on the floor where the dog could stomp on it. You should clean up after yourselves." Okay, so he takes after his OCD mother. Maybe his college fund will be a therapy fund instead.

That same ADHD child, who has been on a drug holiday for two weeks, just spent almost two hours of intense concentration building an erector set tank thing for his brother. Very sweet and thoughtful act, right? Except, now that it's finished and he's not totally focused on that, he's driving the rest of us crazy with all of his pent up energy. There may not be anything left of his college fund, after we spend it all on his meds.

I'm not ready to go back to school yet, but I'm kinda over the whole "two weeks straight with my kids" thing. In case you hadn't noticed.

New Decade?

2010-01-01T09:15:00.002-06:00

Why does everyone keep saying we're starting a new decade? No we're not! The decade ENDS with 2010. Duh. A baby doesn't turn one until AFTER they've lived a year. They turn ten AFTER they've lived a decade. We don't start counting with zero and end with nine. That's always bugged me. Why is it that every single channel is showing a "Best of the Decade" look back? Why doesn't anyone in the math world call them on this?

Let's just hope the rest of the year doesn't continue in the matter in which it began--which would be with me lying on the couch, blowing my nose every five minutes, and trying to keep my antibiotics from making an encore appearance. Ugh.

If I don' t get these Christmas decorations down today, I'm going to have my man cubs drag everything up to the curb and dump it there. Seriously. It was all pretty at the beginning of December, but now I'm so sick of looking at it all that I could scream.

And Day One of the exercise plan is not kicking off quite the way I wanted. I don't even have the energy to take a shower, much less walk some miles, plural.

But we are starting a new year and, despite its less than auspicious beginning, I'm sure it's going to be wonderful. It's my last year to have a single-digit child. Because, see, he was born in 2000 and he won't turn ten until November, which is ten years after he was born. When the decade really ends. Okay, okay, I'll stop with that now. Anyway, here's to a great new year.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Buckeye Bound

2009-12-23T06:47:00.003-06:00

Yesterday's MRI went fine--no problems at all. In fact, despite the sounds not unlike a construction zone going on all around me, I shoved my ear plugs in a little deeper, tuned everything out, and enjoyed a little nap. For my friends who emailed me about it, it was just a follow-up MRI so they'd have post-surgical images of breast tissue to compare with the mammograms.

The family dinner was fine too. I was the very soul of patience, sweetness, and light. Mom made mango margaritas and I consumed several. Of course, I had to tilt my head to the side to do so to keep the cold off my sore tooth, but it was worth it. Eventually I'll get used to chewing on only one side of my mouth.

I got Mom the first season of Castle on DVD, so we'll have a viewing party when I get back--complete with more mango margaritas. I also got her the Castle book, Heat Wave, which I unwrapped and read first before I gave it to her. Because I'm classy like that. I also dropped off four frogs and a fish for her to babysit. It's a good thing she likes critters.

Last night was fun. Mom made me a gorgeous scarf with different shades of pink funky yarny stuff and bought matching pink gloves. I was showered with all sorts of other goodies and delicious pasta. Mmmm. My only regret is that we're leaving this morning, heading for the Buckeye State, so I don't have leftovers.

Speaking of leaving...attention all would-be burglars: 75% of my neighbors are nosy retired people who stay home and notice everything that goes on in the neighborhood. They all have family coming into town for Christmas, so there will be extra people around. Don't even think about robbing our place. My neighbor right across the street is a cop. All the senior citizens are NRA-card-carrying, rifle toting, Conservatives who will shoot first and ask questions later. The one tree-hugging Liberal in the area is a single woman who lives alone, so she's packing heat too. She might pray for your rehabilitation while doing it, but she won't hesitate to put a cap in your butt either. Go ahead. Make her day.

So, all threats of violence aside, I hope all of you have a wonderful Christmas with your loved ones. Now I have an eighty pound dog to deliver to her grandmother. Peace out, peeps.

In Which I Redefine Sucktacular

2009-12-22T11:25:00.005-06:00

If only I could get a pimple or a raging case of scabies, that would make this day a perfect storm of suckitude.

I started the morning with dental work, which is never a good thing. I love my dentist--I've been seeing him since I was about five years old--but I've reached the age where more than just a filling is required and I'm not so good with the forced stillness while a team of very-large-handed people invade my mouth with vile-tasting instruments of torture. I've never had a crown or anything (not even braces) until today. Now I can add the experience to the top of the list of Things I Never Want to Repeat--right up there with egg nog, the movie Cars, and Statistical Analysis 201. Except, lucky me, I get to go back in January to replace this temporary crown with a porcelain onlay.

Now this afternoon I get to experience another first that I probably won't want to repeat--an MRI. I've been putting this off since October, so I guess it's obvious that I'm not looking forward to it. Again with the forced stillness and feeling of suffocation. Kind of like sitting through a faculty meeting, except I can't even draw obscene pictures on a legal pad and slide them across the table to my coworkers. Not that I'd ever do that, of course, because I am a mature professional.

Then tonight I get to attend a family dinner. I'm looking forward to seeing my parents and grandparents, and eating my mom's cooking. Unfortunately, we don't get to pick all of our relatives. I will behave, but it will be difficult. Normally I just grit my teeth and get through it, but tonight I have to be careful not to grit my teeth so I don't break my temporary crown. I just hope the numbness wears off by then because otherwise I'll be drooling wine on my mom's nice tablecloth. Because, yes Virginia, there will be wine consumption. Lots of it.

And to continue the craptasticism for another day, tomorrow I get to spend nine hours in a crowded car to travel to the frozen tundra (read: Canton, Ohio) to visit my in-laws. I love my in-laws, but I'm not a big fan of long car rides with loud, giant man cubs or the winter climate of northeast Ohio. Couldn't I have married someone from, say, Maui? No, I'll keep him, even though I need an electric parka to visit his family in December.

At least I'll have books and a new Nano. Dan and Mom plotted together to get me an iPod Nano to replace the iPod that went missing last year (read: stolen by a student). I have about thirty gazillian audio books to listen to, along with 60 megamillion songs. Two students bought me gift cards to Barnes & Noble, so I went crazy and bought six new books last night.

So I'm going to focus on the books and the happy togetherness of tonight and tomorrow, rather than the sore jaw and claustrophobia that is today.

Isn't This Al Gore's Home State?

2009-12-13T22:23:00.003-06:00

Why is it so freakin' hard to find a place to recycle household waste in this state? I feel like Kermit the Frog because it's sure not easy being green.

Yesterday we cleaned out one of the garages to make room to store Dad's vintage boat over the winter. The recyclables were starting to form their own independent nation in the attached garage, so I loaded them up in my car to make the long trek to the recycle center in Madison. (I've been saving them up for a time when I need to go to Smyrna, but I couldn't wait another day.) About halfway there I realized that I was directly in the path of all those crazy Saturday Christmas shoppers on their way to Rivergate Mall. Oh well, how bad could it be? I foolishly thought.

It was that bad.

It became even worse when I finally made it to the recycling center, only to find out that it's closed on the weekend. Are you freakin' kidding me?? Who are these people who manage to find time to recycle during the work week? They must be some kind of super green freaks. Sadly, I turned my car back toward my new/old hometown and fought the mall traffic going that way too. There's an hour of my life I'll never get back. Meanwhile, I still had a car full of plastic bottles and steel cans. My school recycles newspaper and the humane shelter takes aluminum cans, but no one takes the rest of my crap.

Oh, and the used plastic grocery bags were still all wadded up in the passenger floorboard. Yes, I realize if I were TRULY being green I'd have those reusable bags. But you know what? I'm not only environmentally challenged, I'm also poor, frugal, and cheap. Those suckers cost a buck apiece, and I NEVER remember to take the few I do own to the store with me. So, baby steps, okay?

Anyway, today I set out to find the recycle center I've heard about in Gallatin. The one that is a twenty minute drive from my house, one way. ARGH! Another hour of my life, gone! Why oh why can't my beloved old/new hometown get a recycle center of its own? I realize they aren't pretty, but isn't there a building somewhere in this town with a parking lot in back where the city could prop a couple of big blue (or green!) dumpsters for plastic, glass, and steel cans? Wouldn't the city make enough in selling the materials to pay for the dumpster space?

Here's the deal--there is a company that offers curbside recycling pick-up but they charge twenty bucks a month for the service. And, as I mentioned above, I'm way too poor/frugal/cheap to pay for it. Plus, as long as I'm willing and able to take these things to a center myself, shouldn't I have that opportunity? Maybe more people in this town would recycle if it were slightly less impossible to do.

That's my mission for 2010--bring a recycle center to Hendersonville. I'm not sure how to go about it, but I'm going to make it happen. If for no other reason than to keep me from driving to BFE Gallatin once a month.

Maybe I'll start by borrowing a karaoke machine and singing "It's Not Easy Being Green" as loud as possible outside City Hall while dumping my recyclables in their parking lot. What do you think?

Conversations

2009-12-06T08:20:00.003-06:00

...overheard in my family yesterday.

On the way to breakfast with another teacher and her daughter, we passed several runners all bundled up for the cold weather, running down the sidewalk. So I asked, "Is there some kind of marathon today that I didn't hear about?"

Ryan: "Ugh. I hate marathons. They're just so...long.

Me: "Well, that's kind of the point."

Both kids in stereo: "Unless it's a marathon of...

Ryan: cartoons."

Aaron: Captain Planet."

On the way to school each day, we pass a yard with one of those Grinch inflatables. Only, he's DEflated because it's so early in the morning. We started singing this song as we pass that house (to the tune of "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch"):

You're a flat one, Mr. Grinch.
You're lying on the lawn.
You are deader than a doornail,
you're flat as a flapjack, Mr. Gri-iiiiinch.
I wouldn't plug you in and blow air back up your butt--even if you were Santa Claus!

And the second verse goes downhill from there--full of potty humor and spiders and other boy-inspired lyrics. Yeah, we're classy like that.

Last night at about quarter 'til ten I told the kids that it was late and they needed to go to bed.

Ryan: Oh, thank goodness you're finally telling us to go to bed. I've been so tired.

Me: You know, if you're tired you can just go on to bed. You don't have to wait for me to tell you to go.

Ryan: (feigning shock) I would never do something without first getting your permission, dear mother.

Then they went upstairs and got ready for bed. Aaron was sleeping in Ryan's room because they like to have "sleepovers" on the weekend. Dan said he was watching football while they got settled. Then Ryan called out, "Oh, if only we had a father who loves us who could come tuck us in and make sure we're warm while we sleep. Oh, if only he cared enough to do that. "

Yep, it's a regular comedy festival here at the castle.

In Which I Confess to Enjoying Christmas Music

2009-12-01T21:25:00.005-06:00

For those of you who have been hanging around the Princess's castle for a while, you know that there are quite a few Christmas songs that I can't stand. Now, to be fair, there are many that I really, really love. I was in choir all through school and at church, so trust me I've sung them all.

Tonight I had the great pleasure of attending my middle school son's Christmas chorus concert. I have to admit that I actually gasp enjoyed that stupid Chipmunk song. It's amazing what a difference it makes when it's sung by someone you adore and cherish, rather than a group of vile, high-pitched, animated rodents. Ryan did a great job, as did the rest of the chorus. It's fun to sit in the audience on the other side hearing the same songs which I used to perform. It was really fun to count the number of eye rolls I witnessed as my son sang such lines as, "when we finally kiss goodnight," and "with holiday greetings and gay happy meetings when friends come to call." Hee hee. He's So Very Twelve.

We listened to Christmas music while putting up the Christmas tree last week. You read that correctly--last week. On FRIDAY, no less. The day after Thanksgiving. Also known as The Earliest Day on Which It's Acceptable to Put Up the Tree. I know, right? Me! With the happy holiday spirit and whatnot! I even sang along with Karen Merry Christmas Darling Carpenter! Of course, it helps that my husband isn't working retail during the holiday season for the first time in the twenty-plus years that I've known him. It makes a huge difference in my attitude to not have to do the single parent thing during the holidays.

My favorite part of the concert tonight was hearing the choir sing Carol of the Bells four-part harmon, a Capella. Oh so pretty. The even cooler part is that my kids also love that song and they want to make sure we have the lyrics so that the whole family can sing along when we visit the Ohio Brewers for Christmas.

It kinda makes me feel like my heart grew three sizes that day.

But nothing and nobody could ever, ever make me like Christmas Shoes. Blech. I kinda threw up in my mouth a little bit, just from typing the name of that horrible, awful, schmaltzy, sappy, crappy, hideous, no good, very bad song. Bah.

Nerd or Not Nerd?

2009-11-27T17:01:00.002-06:00

Conversation overheard in my living room while putting up the Christmas tree:

Ryan: (checking out all the ornaments) What's a nerd?

Me: (while unwrapping the ornaments) Well, it's someone who is a little bit of a misfit. You know, like the toys on the Island of Misfit Toys in Rudolph? Someone who is kinda bookish and smart, but not socially adept.

Ryan: Like, you mean somebody who doesn't really fit in?

Me: Yes, but the word "nerd" also implies that the person is smart, too. Mommy's a nerd, for example.

Ryan: But you don't wear glasses with tape holding them together.

Me: Or a pocket protector.

Ryan: Yeah, that's how I always picture a nerd looking. You know, with taped-up glasses and maybe suspenders or something.

Me: And a Spock haircut.

Ryan: Wait. What? But Spock's not a nerd.

Me: Sure he is--super intelligent, socially awkward? He's definitely a nerd.

Ryan: No, that's just because he's a Vulcan.

Me: Yes, but he's half-human. His human half is definitely a nerd.

Dan: (chiming in from his post straightening the branches) The fact that you two are even having this conversation puts you both firmly in the nerd category.

In Which I Remind People to Lighten the Frick Up

2009-11-24T22:56:00.002-06:00

I made a joke on Facebook about being tired of my friends' sappy "thankful" status updates leading up to Thanksgiving and got my sh*t jumped about it. Oh for frick's sake--get over yourselves. I mean, have you met me? I make snarky comments and jokes, people. It's kind of my thing.

Just to show that I was kidding (Hello? I lead a pretty charmed life here, folks. Much to be thankful for!) I've made my own grateful list. Feel free to ignore it if the sappiness is too much for you. There'll be plenty more snark tomorrow. Ya'll c'mon back now, y'hear?

1) I'm grateful for books. Lots of them. Especially those written by great authors. Especially when they're free at the library. I came home from the library tonight with three books--one brand new, and two that I've read before (but only once and I don't own them). Hello five day weekend!

2) I'm thankful to be married to my extremely hot and very talented best friend, who just happens to be the father of my really wonderful kids.

3) I'm grateful to work with some really awesome people who make my job fun. Especially since one of them has a sister who cut my hair and waxed my eyebrows tonight.

4) I'm thankful for Shoe Carnival's buy one, get one half price sale. I'm also grateful that they had wide and half sizes in the boots I wanted/needed. I'm even more grateful that the cashier gave me an extra $4 off coupon out of the blue.

5) I'm grateful and beyond relieved that I had a most excellent observation/reflection with my boss today. I have completed ALL of my observations for this school year and all three of them went unbelievably well.

6) I'm grateful that my middle school kid is still allowed to sing Christmas songs in the "Winter Holiday" concert, even if one of them is the ridiculously annoying Chipmunk song. My kids hate it too, so don't jump me for being a Scrooge.

7) I'm thankful for the PTO moms at my school who fed us a wonderful soup and salad luncheon today. Mmmm. Love soup.

8) I'm grateful for my giant laundry room, which Dan will not be taking away to create the bathroom of his dreams. Sorry, dear. Mama needs to hang up clothes.

9) I'm thankful for the Read-a-Thon today, which enabled me to grade every single last paper at school before I left today so that I could ENJOY my time off without work hanging over my head the whole weekend.

10) I'm grateful that I HAVE A JOB to escape from for a few days. And I'm grateful that my little man comes to work with me every morning to hang out in my room before school starts. He's a great companion any time, but he's about the only person on Earth I can tolerate first thing in the morning before I've had my coffee.

So, okay. Are you happy now? Can I go back to my usual snark and biting cynicism now? All this cheerfulness is giving me hives.

Can I Get an Extra Saturday? Please?

2009-11-21T18:26:00.004-06:00

What a week. After a busy week like this, I should be able to cash in some chips for an extra day on the weekend.

Dan played out two nights last week, so I was home alone with the boys Monday and Tuesday. It's funny how quickly I've gotten used to having him home in the evenings, after his working in retail for the first twenty years I've known him. He used to close the store down at least two nights a week. Now I feel lost without him if he's gone two nights.

He also rehearsed with the third graders during the school day twice. He accompanied them on his guitar in two performances this week (Wednesday morning; Thursday night). Aaron was great as an announcer for the program. Everyone said he was "so professional" and wanted to know where he got such a deep voice. He was all, "Hi, I'm Aaron, and I'm going to speak in my big man voice now." Very cute! After the book fair, PTO meeting, rehearsals, performances, and helping Aaron get his big Thomas Jefferson citizenship project ready, I was exhausted.

But I wasn't finished. In fact, I was just getting started. I had my third (and final, for this school year) observation with my principal on Friday. Yes, genius that I am, I scheduled an observation for the last hour of the day on the last day of the week before a short holiday week. What was I thinking? Luckily I'd stayed really late Wednesday night analyzing data and writing plans, so I was totally prepared. The observation went really well and my kids were great. At the end my boss smiled at me and said, "You've come a long way, baby."

I nearly peed my pants.

There were lots of other nice words too, but I don't want to boast. Well, okay I do, but that would be bad form. I'll sit down to "reflect" with her about the lesson on Monday or Tuesday and get my formal "strengths and areas to strengthen" paperwork. Until then, I'm just basking in the relief of having finished my three observations for this year. Whew.

Today we finally had Aaron's birthday party, since his birthday was two weeks ago. Mother of the Year, that's me. The boys played Wii games, Star Wars, air hockey, Legos, and chased each other around the house yelling, screaming, and tormenting the dog. You know, SOP for boys.

After they left, I stretched out on the couch with an audio book and napped. I'd earned it.

Tunica

2009-11-15T21:39:00.002-06:00

...is the Indian word for "Place Where White People Lose Money."

Dan and I spent the weekend in Tunica for an AFLAC Awards Banquet. I've never been to Tunica before and I doubt I'll ever go again unless the company is paying for it. Not that we had a bad time. On the contrary. I graded papers for the entire car ride so that I wouldn't have to worry about anything once we arrived so we could just relax and unwind. It was wonderful to get away and just spend time together without two little kids talking our ears off and hearing video game sound effects in the back ground constantly.

Except, wait. We DID have video game sound effects in the background--at the casino. The lights, sounds, and smoke just about drove me crazy. I'm just not a casino kind of girl. Luckily we didn't gamble any more than the casino bucks they gave us because, quite frankly, I suck at gambling. No, really. I couldn't even figure out the quarter slots. I would've done better just to flush my ten dollar coupon directly down the toilet and avoided the smoky, desperation-scented air in the casino. All that fake glamor and glitz is just not for me.

The free food, however, was very much my speed. Holy cow, did I ever ruin my diet this weekend. I could've spent five hours at the dessert table alone. We ate like kings. Well, kings with high cholesterol and hypertension, but still. Dan won $60 at the AFLAC Luck of the Draw game, and then another $11 at the slot machines. I enjoyed my free glass of wine and promptly lost my $10 free card in the stupid slots, prompting me to enjoy a second free glass of wine.

On the way back to Tennessee, we stopped at Outback for a (nearly) free lunch because we had a gift card. All in all we had a great (mostly) free weekend, didn't lose any of our own money, and are desperately UNready to go back to work tomorrow.

Thanks, mom, for watching the boys and the dog.

Our Little Celebrities

2009-11-12T20:05:00.006-06:00

Our little super star got his picture in the paper yesterday. People at school were asking for his autograph. :-) He was pretty excited to see himself in the paper, but he was a little embarrassed by all the attention.

Not to be outdone by his little brother, Twelve got his picture in the paper this week too--online, not print. So here's a picture of Twelve at his middle school chorus Veteran's Day concert. He's the one on the front row directly between the two microphones. In this one he's the third kid from the right. Doesn't he look delighted to be there??

He's...So Very Twelve.

Pleurisy? Seriously?

2009-11-08T14:43:00.004-06:00

Okay, so I figured out why I've been having trouble running. My legs didn't hurt at all, but I kept feeling like there was an elephant sitting on my chest. Well, as it turns out, there was. And his name is pleurisy.

I've been having sharp, shooting pains in my right side for about a week now--ever since I started trying to be a runner. See, I TOLD YOU running would be the death of me!

Last night the pain radiated to my shoulder blades and hurt every time I took a breath. As you can imagine, it was pretty hard to sing while unable to breathe last night. Late last night my left, lower back started to hurt too. I couldn't find a comfortable position, no matter how I moved. It felt like a fish hook was pulling my chest every time I breathed. I took two Aleve and didn't get any relief at all. My sister in law is in town and she's a nurse at the Cleveland Clinic. She said my symptoms sounded like pleurisy and encouraged (read: forced) me to go to the ER today. Good thing I had the sense enough to marry a man with a genius for a sister. I haven't had any other respiratory symptoms, so I thought she was crazy. I thought it sounded like a gallbladder attack. Boy, was I wrong.

After an ultrasound, an EKG, chest X-rays, an IV, blood tests, urine tests, and a thorough exam, the ER doctor said I have pleurisy. "Really?" I said. "Isn't that something old people get?"

He just looked at me. Pointedly.

I said, "Right. I'm 40. Got it."

They gave me an anti-inflammatory in my IV and a prescription for steroids and sent me home with instructions not to run for a few days.

Well, gee. That'll be a hardship, but I'll try my best to follow doctor's orders.

Super Star

2009-11-07T22:00:00.007-06:00

Nine years ago on this date the world became a better place because Aaron Brewer was introduced into it. This child is one of the most amazing people I've ever met, of any age, and I'm supremely honored that God allows us to be his parents every day.

Tonight, rather than have a birthday party, Aaron volunteered to sing at a Sumner County Humane Society fundraiser called Puttin' on the Dog. Dan and I sang too, but Aaron was the true super star of the evening. I sang Etta James's "At Last" and Patsy Cline's "Crazy," then I joined Dan to harmonize on a few Beatles' songs. Dan sang one original song, "Until the Evening Rolls Around," several Beatles' songs, and Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here."

Super Star Aaron sang Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours" and Paul McCartney's "Calico Skies." He was absolutely amazing. Not only did he sing with absolute confidence--not a nervous bone in his body--he actually talked and introduced each song. What a showman! You'd think his last name was Osmond or Jackson. I'd show you a video my mom took, but there was a Red Hat lady right in front of her who kept moving her feathers into the picture. After the show, everyone came up to tell him what a great job he did. A lady from the local newspaper took his picture and got his information, so maybe it'll be in the paper this week.

Mom's friend's husband gave Aaron a ten dollar "tip," making this his first paying gig. As we walked around looking at all the silent auction stuff, another lady came up, gushing, to tell Aaron what a good job he did. She said something like, "I sure would like to hear you sing again sometime." In classic Aaron form, he responded with, "Well, I'll be singing in the Nannie Berry talent show this spring. Maybe you could come see me then." Love. That. Kid. I felt like telling her to check his website for his tour dates. Tickets available at Ticketmaster.

Not to be outdone in the great kid department, Ryan opted to stay home because, even though he also has a great voice too, he is very TWELVE and does not want to sing in front of a bunch of strangers. He stayed home with Dan's sister, Cathy, who is in town for the weekend. Together they decorated the house with signs and stuffed animals (Ryan said they were party animals), and threw him a surprise party when we got home. He included a secret code with instructions directing Aaron to come upstairs to the party.

They baked him a cake and decorated it with his name and some psychedelic, tie-dye-looking sugar crystals. Yes, I caved and had some cake. Hey, it's not every day my boy turns nine!

I have the two best boys in the whole world. This will be my last year to have a single-digit-aged child. Gosh, I wish I could freeze time and keep them this age forever, but then I wouldn't get to see the fantastic teens and men they're going to be.

In Case You Were Wondering...

2009-11-04T20:37:00.002-06:00

I still hate running. Just thought you should know that hasn't changed. I went out with the pretty young things again on Monday after school and gave up after one short lap. I've come to the realization that I'm old. Plus, I felt like there was an elephant sitting on my chest this week, which certainly curtails any running that I might've struggled with even with healthy lungs.

I ran about half a mile with the dog once I got home Monday night, but I was breathing so hard that I was worried one of my elderly neighbors would hear me and come racing out with her oxygen and her walker to help me get back home. I ran again Tuesday morning, just under half a mile, but I did not enjoy it. Not even a little bit.

Another PYT at school who kinda sorta wants to exercise but doesn't want to run or break a sweat or have to work very hard is going to be my "running buddy." I put it in quotes because that's what we're calling each other even though we're both pretty certain that there will be no actual running taking place.

I might have found my perfect "running buddy" after all.

End of an Era

2009-11-01T06:55:00.009-06:00

This was a bittersweet Halloween for the Brewer Boys and their mom. For the first time in about seven or eight years, we didn't have ready-made plans for Halloween. This was the first time we looked at each other and said, "What do we want to do for Halloween?"

Because, see, up to this point we've always gone trick-or-treating with the Gafford Girls across the street. The moms are BFFs, so the kids are destined to play together. Luckily, the five kids all like each other, so it works for us. In previous years, we always waited until it got dark, walked across the street, and started out together stocking up on enough sugar to keep a dentist in business for life. There was no discussion, no "are we on for 10/31?," no question. It was a given that we'd go door-to-door with them.

Last year, since Halloween was on Friday, we drove from H'ville back down to Smyrna (where we still owned a house) and continued the tradition. This year we sold our house in May, so we knew things would be different. Sure, we could've driven back to Smyrna and continued the tradition, but Dan and I decided the kids needed to do something with their friends up here. We just didn't know what.

Ryan decided that he's too old for trick-or-treating, so he didn't even buy a costume this year. He wore an old alien mask with black sweats just long enough for his free kids' meal. We went to Zaxby's for free kids' meals, even though Ryan is technically two years too old for their kids' meals. But since the child doesn't eat and I'm on a diet, we managed to split his kids' meal with a couple of fries left over.

Lily dressed up as Pocahontas--for about five minutes, until she started chewing the costume off and looking up at me with a completely humiliated expression on her face, and periodically glancing at the window as if to say, "I sincerely hope the cat can't see me in this, because if she can, I've completely lost all street cred as a big dog." Aaron declared his costume "the best one ever" and enjoyed wearing it at every possible opportunity all week long. He was Optimus Prime.

Then we went to the Brassell's house because, as a paranormal investigator, this is Denise's penultimate national holiday. Their front yard is the coolest Halloween celebration I've ever seen. Plus, they were celebrating their grandbaby's first birthday (naturally it's on Halloween), so they had even more decorations up than normal.

Then, because he's too old for this business now, Ryan stayed home with his dad to hand out candy. Problem is, there are NO trick-or-treaters in our neighborhood. None. A few houses sat there with their lights on, looking all bright and hopeful, but there were no little goblins running around. Despite the fact that Dan bought four bags of candy, we didn't even bother turning our porch lights on. It was just too sad to hope that someone would show up. The big boys stayed in the man cave and played Wii games while Aaron and I set out on our journey.

We drove over to the neighborhood across the street from our school. It's like our old neighborhood: self-contained, lots of kids, houses close together for maximum candy collecting. The biggest difference between this one and our old neighborhood? These houses are built around a pond with a fountain in the middle, have sidewalks everywhere, and start at about half a million dollars. Minor difference, really.

So Aaron and I walked from house to house, alone, just the two of us saying "trick-or-treat" in a very lukewarm voice. We ran into a few kids that I know from school, but Aaron didn't see anybody he knows. He enjoyed himself, but I was very lonely. No Grace to talk to, no girls chattering, no Ryan to fuss at to get out of the middle of the road. Sigh. After a couple of streets, Aaron decided that he was cold and ready to go home. I couldn't help but think, "I missed going to a grown-up party and bonfire for this?"

Next year I'll have to plan ahead of time to have Aaron meet up with some of his friends. Ryan will probably be at some kind of middle school party. Or maybe he'll still be sitting in the basement playing video games--his default position, no matter what the occasion.

No matter what we do from here on out, I'll always remember this Halloween as the end of an era.

Running...

2009-10-31T08:21:00.004-05:00

...and other medieval forms of torture.

I ran Friday.

For my friends in Smyrna who know me best, I'm giving you a minute to pick yourselves up off the floor, get a tissue to dry the laughing tears from your eyes, and let your breathing return to normal before you start reading again. Better? Okay. Let's continue.

I ran Friday.

Okay, Smyrna girls. That's enough laughing. Pull yourselves together now. There are other people trying to read this.

So I ran. I know I've always said that there's no way I'd run unless there was a big dog chasing me. Well, this big dog is named Kathleen and I was chasing her, trying to keep up. See, I was foolish enough to mention that I'd reached a plateau in the Biggest Loser contest at work. For the past four weeks, I've only lost half a pound a week. I've only been dieting and not exercising because I've been so busy. Kathleen was trying to organize a group of teachers to participate in a "Fun Run" after school several days a week. I commented that there was nothing at all "fun" about running. She encouraged me to give it a try before I passed judgment. I called her a crazy fool, and it went downhill from there.

Long story short, she said that the more people we got to participate, the more likely each of us would be to find a running partner on her own level--someone to match pace with us and keep us company while the others sped off toward the Boston marathon. Since I'm one of the oldest teachers on our faculty, I knew this would not be the case for me. The assisted living facility is a little further down the street--that's the only place I'd find a running buddy. But, I brought some workout clothes to school on Friday and prayed for rain all day. Naturally, the rain didn't come until later, ruining my kids' Trunk or Treat, but not early enough to ruin my run.

I bravely set out with the skinny, 20-something teachers and immediately realized my mistake: I'd forgotten a sports bra. The main reason I hate to run is because of the bouncing. Not that I have much to bounce, but it's damned uncomfortable anyway. I hung back and tried to set a comfortable pace. I realized at once that I'd found my running budding: my teaching partner's nine-year-old daughter who was panting, whining, and asking if we could stop now. I fit right in with my gasping, moaning, and begging. We were soul mates.

At least until we completed the first loop around the neighborhood and the girl's mom took pity on her and allowed her to stop there. Not so with me. Those young, thin beeyotches made me keep going, although they did slow down when I reminded them that we'd had a class party about an hour before and, unless they wanted to see some of the "Swamp Water" punch I'd drunk making a return trip, they'd better slow the frick down. They walked a little while to let the punch settle in my stomach, then took off running again. I politely told them all to F-off while dragging behind them, trying not to hurl in the neighbor's yards. I have students who live on those streets, so I didn't want it to get back to school on Monday that Mrs. Brewer blew Halloween Party chunks in their front yard.

Cut to the chase (which is what I did--chase the other teachers) all the way back to the school. I mapped the distance we ran on mapmyrun.com: 2.87 miles. I survived, but just barely. The other teachers all congratulated me on not fainting, stroking out, or barfing in the bushes, and I sweetly told them all to F-off again. No really, they told me I did a great job of keeping up with them, especially considering that I have no running experience whatsoever, other than being old enough to have powered my first car with my feet, Flintstone-style. They all told me not to give up, that it'll get easier each time I run, especially if I don't drink a gallon of Swamp Juice and eat a plate of M&Ms and Pigs in a Blanket right beforehand.

Oh, did I fail to mention the candy and Blanketed Piggies? Yeah, that's the real reason I ran. So I could eat a little junk food at the Fall Party. I tell you, the sacrifices I make for nitrates and sugar.

I might try running again--when those yummy piggies fly.

Seriously?

2009-10-28T19:46:00.004-05:00

Did you ever see something that made you say out loud to yourself...seriously? Did you really just do that in front of me? Did that really just happen? I seem to be a non compos mentis magnet this week...or maybe I'm just noticing the crazy more than usual.

Take, for example, the other day at Lowe's. I was coming out of the store and headed toward my car when I saw a woman walking in the opposite direction toward the store. She was flossing her teeth as she walked. Really. Not picking at a stray food particle with her fingernail. Not employing a toothpick that she'd just picked up at the cash register of her local eatery after a fine dining experience. Oh no. We're talking Full-On Flossing, like with for real dental floss. She had the sawing motion going and everything.

Curious, and slightly disturbed, I sat in my car and continued to watch as she approached the entrance. Step. Saw. Step. Saw. She was flossing in rhythm with her steps--an admirable accomplishment, but still. I was horrified, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was like a train wreck. I wondered what she would do with the floss, knowing all the while that this could not end well. I knew from the very depths of my soul that the floss would never make it to the trash can at the front of the store. Sure enough, she tucked the offending piece of string back into her purse! Euw! What? Is she saving it to use again later? People are just nasty.

Then, on the drive home, I pulled up to a traffic light behind a Bubba. Now, I live in Tennessee, so there are quite a few Bubbas of my acquaintance. Some of them are actually named Bubba; for others it's more of a lifestyle choice. This guy was more like a Bubba Jr. Wannabe. He was driving a reddish-orange tricked out pickup truck with low-riding wheels on the back. The truck was so shiny that you could just tell that he'd never used the vehicle to do any actual real macho work. In fact, it looked like the kind of truck that would be afraid it would break a nail if it tried to haul anything.

The clincher though was the sticker in the back window, which read, "No fat chicks. Back end will scrape." I wanted to pull up beside the obviously struggling with his masculinity driver and say, "Excuse me? You should be grateful to ANY chick who would be seen in this limp-wristed, sorry excuse for a truck with you. Here in the South, "chicks" generally prefer guys who have a little something more going on under the hood, if you know what I mean."

Then tonight I saw yet another vehicle whose driver was clearly hoping to date a real, live woman at some point in his life, but would probably be living with his mama into his late forties and saying, "Do you want fries with that?" at work every day. I'm sure you've seen these trucks with the fake testicles hanging from the trailer hitch. Really? Really? You need to justify your lack of cajones by giving some to your truck? Seriously? That's too pathetic to even be sad.

Citizens of Tennessee: please try very hard to keep your crazy to yourself. I teach public school, so I'm all stocked up. I don't need your 27 varieties of mental illness in my day. Thanks.

Rainbows, Fluffy Bunnies, and Bubble Letters

2009-10-25T08:41:00.002-05:00

...are things you won't find here.

Okay, since apparently my last two blog entries were filled with enough vitriol that I actually had people ask me if I was okay and if there was anything they could do for me, I guess I need to back off the bitter a wee little bit. This blog will be a kinder, gentler, warm fuzzy kind of blog.

Who am I kidding? I'm not a fluffy bunny kind of girl. It'll be the same old snarky blog as ever, but with a tad less sarcasm and spite. But only a tad. Because then I'd get even more emails asking, "What's really going on? You're being too sweet. What are you not telling us?" You know me so well.

So, yes, it was a busy week. I had my mom's pooch all week because she was in Las Vegas taking care of my Grama who had knee surgery. Izzy was a good little doggie until the very last night, when she decided to attempt to scratch her way through the door at the top of the steps. She was squirrelly all day Friday because she must've read the calendar and realized that her mommy was coming home.

I had my second observation on Wednesday and it went really well. The lady who observed me is from the central office. She does one of the observations and my principal does the other two. (Two down, one to go.) She said many nice things: lots of growth and improvement since last year, she could see me taking on leadership roles in my school or teaching professional development classes for the county, very organized classroom, great centers (thanks, McCartney!), etc. What was really funny was the area she identified as one that I could stand to strengthen (she went out of her way to emphasize that it was not a weakness or an area where I was deficient in any way, but just an area to strengthen to become an even better teacher) was the exact domain and indicator (letter, number, the whole shebang) that my principal identified as a strength in my evaluation two weeks ago. :-)

Then we had a field trip on Friday to the Bicentennial Mall in Nashville for the Tennessee History Festival. I didn't sleep at all Thursday night. Izzy contributed to my lack of sleep, but I was also stressed about the trip. The weather forecasters were predicting a 100% chance of rain on Friday, but the big question mark was how early the system would be moving out of the middle TN area. We even emailed the meteorologists at channels four and five to ask them about it. At six Friday morning we had a monsoon pass through, but by the time we left at 9:30 it was not raining. We had a good time learning about the events that shaped our state's history from prehistoric times to the present. Other than the anonymous comment on Friday (HA!! Too funny!), the trip went really well. I was exhausted and fell asleep on the couch at 8:30 Friday night. Field trips wear me out. I think I'm glad we only get two of them.

This weekend I've been cleaning, organizing, and taking Eight to a birthday party. Today I hope to tackle the garage(s) and try to make room to store Dad's boat for the winter. Problem is, the stuff taking up the room where the boat will go belongs to Mom and Dad. Hopefully they will be able to come get it this week so we can clear out that space. Oh, and I have to list some things on Craigslist to get rid of. I've never done that before, so wish me luck.

See, no rainbows or bubble letters, but it wasn't too bitter. I can be sweet and soft when I need to be. For a limited time. Tomorrow I'll probably be back to my normal, caustic self again. You've been warned.

Sarcastic Thanks

2009-10-22T23:43:00.003-05:00

Since sarcasm is my native language, I have a few thank yous to share with the blogverse.

I'd like to start off by thanking mom's dog for dragging her butt all across my carpet this week. Thanks, Izzy. Because, really, keeping the carpet clean with two boys and a Labrador in the house wasn't quite enough of a challenge for me. I needed to add "Poop Scootching Skid Marks" to the list of unidentified stains. Seriously. Thanks for that.

And to Wal-Mart. Yeah--my favorite place on Earth. Hey, thanks for carrying only ONE size of the hot pink shiny snow boots--a size ten. Really. Because, it was very helpful to me tonight when I desperately searched for pink rain boots all over town for the field trip tomorrow to know that my favorite color was available, somewhere out there in the Walliverse, just not in the actual place and time and SIZE 8 where and when I needed it. It was so thoughtful of you to let me know what I was missing. I probably couldn't have slept tonight if I had thought you only carried green and orange boots. Thanks for dangling that pink booted carrot in my face and then jerking it away when I saw the size tag. Sure. Thanks for that too.

Oh, and thanks to all the parents who fully believe that I have the power to manipulate the weather and can redirect rainfall. I appreciate, also, that you have faith in my ability to predict what tomorrow's weather will be too. It's so supportive how half of you hate me because I didn't cancel the field trip and the other half of you would've hated me if I had canceled it. It feels so good knowing that, whatever decision I make, at least 50% of you will be lined up to tell me why it was the wrong one. That just warms my heart.

I also need to thank all the liars in the world who are so skilled in your trade that you actually start to believe your own lies until you're certain they're true. I admire your ability to continue to prevaricate, even when faced with undeniable proof of your untruthfulness. Wow. That takes moxie. I'd say my hat's off to you, but you'd just tell me that I wasn't wearing a hat to begin with.

Whew. I feel better. It's always uplifting to give thanks where thanks are due.

An Open Letter

2009-10-20T22:33:00.004-05:00

to the jayhole who sat behind us at Chili's tonight:

Dear Jayhole,

We, the patrons of Chili's, would like to cordially invite you to achieve an anatomically impossible event after enjoying the presence of your children tonight as we dined. We'd blame your Satan's spawn, A and E, but, as children, they are not entirely responsible for their actions. You are. We blame you for raising them to be the incorrigible, horrendous buttheads that you've allowed them to become.

And how do we know their names, you ask yourself? Well, because we heard you repeatedly shouting the little darlings' names as you issued one empty threat after another. How did I know they were empty threats after only twenty minutes in your unpleasant company? Well sir, even your very young children realized that you were not going to follow through on your warnings because you obviously never do. Instead we, the other paying customers, were subjected to repeated shouts of:

A, get down!
E, sit up!
A, stop knocking on the glass!
E, don't choke your brother!
A, get out from under the table!
E, I told you to stop that!
A, get off your brother or you're going to have to sit over here with me!

And on and on, ad infinitum, world without end, amen, amen. And then you'd get on the phone again and continue to ignore your offspring while they terrorized the other diners.

I used the children's initials instead of their names because they are innocent bystanders in the atrocity that is your parenting technique. I realize that your wife is out of town and you're not used to being the parent on duty. But here's some friendly advice, from one parent of boys to another: Man the frick up and raise your kids right before they get to school and their teachers hate you as much as everyone in the restaurant did tonight.

Thank you.

P.S. I might be feeling just a tiny bit smug because both of MY boys made straight As on their report cards today. :-)

Last Day of Fall Break

2009-10-18T20:03:00.006-05:00

...in which I shall bore you with more doctor's updates from fall break and whine about how I don't want to go back to work tomorrow.

I will say one thing about my new family practitioner: she gets labs back FAST! It used to take my doc in Smyrna at least a week to give me the results of my blood work. Not this office! I had blood drawn on Thursday. You know, the usual: checked my cholesterol, red blood cells (for anemia), electrolytes, thyroid function, etc.

Friday morning I went garage sale-ing with mom and her next-door-neighbor. I made the mistake of saying that this would be the only day all week when I didn't have to see a doctor and didn't have to get a needle stuck in my arm. Naturally I spoke too soon, because then my phone rang.

Nurse: There's an abnormality with your labs and we're going to need you to come back in so we can send another sample to the lab, STAT.
Me: Um, now?
Nurse: Yes, honey. We need to get this over to the lab as soon as possible so we can get results back today.
Me: Oooookay. What kind of abnormality?
Nurse: Your potassium is too high.
Me: Is that a problem?
Nurse: Well, maybe not, but it could be. Are you experiencing any symptoms?
Me: Huh? What kind of symptoms?
Nurse: Well, if your potassium is high and your electrolytes are off it COULD indicate a problem with your heart. Are you having flutters or an abnormal heart rate?
Me: Wait. What? My heart? No, I'm not having symptoms. (long thinking pause) Hold on...you said my potassium is too high? (laughing) I can explain that. I've been putting bananas in my fresh fruit and yogurt smoothies this week because the bananas were about to go bad and I wanted to use them up.
Nurse: Well, we still need you to come in as soon as you can.

Long story short, I had to get another stick to prove what I'd suspected: Banana OD. Darn healthy diet.

Oh, and for those of you who were feeling sorry for me because I didn't get any shoes the other day...score! I bagged three pairs of designer shoes at Goodwill for less than twenty bucks, which is still less than what I would've paid for one pair (half price) at Shoe Carnival. I also got a brand new black leather Jones New York jacket-y blazer thing which is way cool. I love being cheap.

This week we're puppy sitting mom's dog, Izzy, whom I affectionately refer to as Wolverine. She's got sharp teeth and an attitude like a wolverine, but she's pretty cute when she's not biting my fingers off. Lily loves having her here and the cat...well, the cat is adjusting. She'd just gotten used to having Lily sniffing her business, and now she's got this barking little, panda-looking Wolverine to contend with. Poor Snowball.

I really don't want to go back to work. WAAAAHHH! I loved having time off, but it makes it that much harder to go back on Monday after seven school days without students. I'm being evaluated by someone from central office on Tuesday, so naturally the state website that I need to access to write my planning information record is down. Grrr. I'm going to be really mad if I have to work on it tomorrow night during DWTS or Castle.

Okay, I think that's enough boring random facts for now. Look for more of the mediocrity that you've come to expect here at Casa de Princess next weekend. Until then, kick back and enjoy some Grand Hoochie Skank Rosè. (SNL reference from last night that still has me giggling tonight.)

New Princess in the Royal Family

2009-10-16T23:45:00.006-05:00

My baby cousin Stephanie had a baby of her own today. Before you start thinking this is a Springer episode, my cousin is not really a baby. She's 28. I just can't help thinking of her as a baby because I held her when she was born. I thought I was so important because, at that time, you had to be at least twelve years old to visit new mothers and babies in the hospital. I had just turned twelve the month before, so I got to go with the adults to visit Aunt Sue and hold the new baby.

For those of you spraining your brains trying to do mental math...that makes me 40 now. Shut up.

Anyway, Stephanie and her big brother were acolytes at my wedding in 1991. Now she's got her own little girl. I would like to personally thank Mackenzie Hope for managing to get herself born during fall break so I could go visit her at the hospital and hold her just like I held her mama 28 years ago.

Welcome, Mackenzie. I hope you grow up to be as beautiful and smart as your mom.

Fall Frenzy

2009-10-13T09:00:00.002-05:00

I had my doctor's appointment yesterday with the breast surgeon and everything is looking good. Healing up nicely. I still have to schedule the MRI, but I'm not in any rush to be trapped in a metal tube.

I took the boys with me to my appointment yesterday because we had errands to run afterward. Twelve was his usual self: fidgeting, tapping, talking a mile a minute, and being his typical flurry of busy movements. I realize that he can't help it, but it just drives me up the wall sometimes. At one point, he leaped up out of his seat and dashed all the way across the waiting room for no apparent reason. Well, no reason that was apparent to me, anyway. I was just about to fuss at him, when I realized what had caught his attention. Sometimes being the kid who can't help but notice every little thing going on around him is a good thing. He'd jumped up to open the door for a little old lady in a walker who'd just come out from the exam room area. She thanked him and praised him for being such a helpful young man. Suddenly his fidgeting and frenetic movement didn't bother me so much anymore.

We went to a few stores on a mission: Twelve needed long-sleeve T-shirts and new shoes. We struck out on the T-shirts (none he liked at a price I was willing to pay) but hit pay dirt at Shoe Carnival. He'd been wearing a size six in boys, but I figured he'd need a larger size--possibly transitioning to men's sizes. Imagine my surprise when the shoe salesgirl said that he'd need an 8 1/2 or a 9! That's bigger than his daddy's shoes! Holy cow, my kid is getting big! Since the shoes were "Buy one, get one half off," we got brother and daddy some new shoes too. Who didn't get new shoes, you ask? Me. The person who also has the smallest closet in the family. I couldn't find a single pair of shoes in the whole store that I liked. Which really stinks because they would've been half price. Ugh.

Then I took Eight to the doctor. His right ear has been bothering him since the summer. No fever, no pain, but just an itchy, full feeling that ear drops and allergy meds weren't helping. Since we're on fall break, I decided we should finally have someone take a look in his little ear. We had to find a new doc in Hendersonville because, even though I wanted to keep going to our doctor in Smyrna, it was just too far to drive when my school doesn't even dismiss until 4:00 in the afternoon. So I found this doc on our list and made an appointment. The doctor took a look in both ears and smugly said, "Well there's your problem. His ears are full of wax."

Me: But just the right ear, right?
Doc: Um, no. The left one is just as bad. We'll get the lavage kit and take care of this. (starts walking out the door)
Me: (shouting to his retreating form) I promise I'm a good mother.

Way to make a first impression, right?

So, the doc, the nurse, and I cleaned out about seven years worth of wax from Eight's ears. At least, that's what it looked like as it came out. Eight, continuing the whole impress the new doctor theme, said, "Mom, you never told me I was supposed to clean my ears. I thought only dogs did that." I looked at the doctor and said, "Just for record, I did SO tell him to clean out his ears." He nodded and grinned smugly as if to say, "Yeah right, Slacker Mom."

I'm not sure if we're going to keep seeing Dr. Smug.

Today I have a nurse coming to the house to draw blood for the new life insurance policy Dan bought for me. Well, for him, since he's the one who will benefit if I croak. The day he sold me the policy, I was on my way out the door to play Bunco. He stopped me and made me sign the policy before I left the house. Nice. "Hey honey, sign this before you go--just in case you don't come back." He didn't mention there would be fasting and needles and standing on a scale for a stranger involved here. I'm hungry.

Then tomorrow I get to go back to Dr. Smug's office (but I'll be seeing his female partner) for another blood draw for my twice yearly thyroid check. At least I'll have matching bruises on each arm. Then I think we'll round out the week with eye doctor and dentist visits.

Yeehaw. Do I know how to party over fall break or what?

Another lame update post

2009-10-11T13:21:00.004-05:00

I just realized that I haven't updated the blog since September 26 because, well, I suck at life in general. So sue me. I decided it was time to update the blog when my friend told me she was reading it to check on "my girls." Nice to know that even Canadians are concerned about the status of my ta-tas. Mary Ellen, I'll update you on my "girls" tomorrow after my follow-up visit with my surgeon. I'm supposed to have an MRI soon, but it's not scheduled yet.

And speaking of ta-tas, Dan was at the Race for the Cure event in Nashville yesterday to represent AFLAC. They were invited there by the Komen Foundation to offer their cancer insurance (among other policies) to participants. Hopefully he'll be able to get some sales out of that and help people who might find themselves needing that protection, God forbid.

I did have a ginormous lump develop behind my right ear, which popped up after a three-day headache. My co-workers told me it was probably a blood clot and I was "fixin' to stroke out." Nice, huh? The doctor at the walk-in clinic was all set to send me off for a CT-scan, X-ray, MRI, and all sorts of other tests, but her supervisor said it was probably just an infected gland. $4 for antibiotics VS. massive tests is definitely better. The lump starting shrinking after two days, so all is good.

I finally finished cleaning out the fall/winter clothes from storage and put everything away in my tiny closet. Did I mention that I have the smallest closet in the family? Just checking. Anyway, I took my friend Nancy's advice and stored all my summer/spring clothes in Space Bags so they won't smell like gasoline like my fall/winter clothes did. I got my new Miche closet organizer with my eight shells in it. I like to just sit and look at them in all their loveliness. My newest favorite is Black Stacey. She's so pretty. So is her sister, Brown Stacey.

(Yes, I call all my shells by their product names and talk about them as if they're friends. Because they are my friends. My dear, darling little friends: Jayma, Priscilla, Pink Zoe, the Staceys, and Baileigh. Dan is seeking purse therapy for me.)

We finally broke down and bought a Wii for the boys' birthday. The whole family is now hooked. The boys are mad because, so far, I can beat them in every single game except boxing. I HATE boxing. I hold the family record for Wii golf, with two over par on nine holes. That's verrrry different from real-life golf. In real life, Dan was asked by the driving range owner to never bring me there again. Something about the other golfers fearing for their lives. Sheesh! Men. You forget to yell "fore" a time or six (when you hit it backwards toward the crowd) and the menfolk get so touchy.

I had a great observation with my principal last week. In fact, I'll give you one quote from many positive comments. She said, "I think that's the best way I've ever seen that concept taught." I know, right? I was grinning from ear to ear when I floated out of her office. "Atta girls" feel great. I'll have another observation from the central office evaluator when I get back from fall break, and then another one with my principal in November. Hopefully I'll remain employed again next year.

I was tied for first in the Biggest Loser contest at work two weeks ago, but I don't have the results from last week because our school nurse was out. I think I've lost about seven pounds, but the scale at school is the true indicator. Dan and I bought Wii Fit, but we haven't been able to kick the kids off the thing long enough to play our game. The kids are addicted to Super Smash Brothers Brawl. They just borrowed Lego Star Wars: The Complete Saga from Blockbuster and they're in love with it too. At least we'll know what to get them for Christmas--all Wii, all the time.

This week of fall break is going to be full of housework, yard work, lesson planning, doctor's appointments, and Wii play. It's so nice to have a fall break again, after being without it last year. I needed a break after the first nine weeks and parent conferences. Now we're one quarter finished with the school year!