The First Report Card

I knew, intellectually, that Drake would be receiving a report card.  It's only Pre-K, but the school has standards and communicates those standards to the parents.  I wasn't expecting the report card to be in Drake's folder yesterday.  After all of the issues and the four trips to the Principal's office, I felt a catch in my throat.  I was pleasantly surprised (and relieved) to read that "Drake is a sweet boy and a pleasure to have in class."  Whew!

The behavior is starting to turn toward the better, but there are still some set backs.  Two weeks ago, Drake shoved another boy to the ground.  Thankfully, the boy wasn't hurt.  When we were getting in the car that day, Drake said to me, "I don't want to send Frank a Christmas card."  (He has been making cards for all the kids in his class to mail out.)  "Why not?" I asked.  "Because Frank is mean," he replied.  Knowing that Frank was the boy Drake shoved, I had to dig deeper.  "Drake, what happened with Frank today?"

And then it all spilled out.  "Frank was pushing me and I told him to stop and he wouldn't stop so I pushed him."

"Did you tell your teachers that he pushed you first?"  (In the report from the teachers, when asked why Drake pushed Frank, Drake's response was "Because I felt like it.")

"No."

I felt two unusual sources of pride in my boy.  First, he didn't tattle.  We've been working on that with him, and even though both would have been in trouble, Drake's punishment would have been less severe.  Second, he didn't start the fracas, but by golly, he finished it.  I've been worried that Drake will become the target for bullies because he can be really sensitive.  I felt relief and pride, knowing that he will stand up for himself and not take any crap.  Should I be proud about that?

Mr. Independent

Scene: 5:30 am.  The house is dark and quiet.


Flynn wakes up.  He slaps his feet into the kitchen and gets himself a glass of water.  He goes back to the bathroom to take care of business.  He returns to the kitchen.  He opens the refrigerator, takes out a cup of yogurt, and sits at the table.  He remembers that he needs a spoon, so he goes and opens the drawer to get one.  He likes the big spoons.  He returns to the table, looking at the lid, wondering how he is going to open it.

Why do I have the feeling that he would make himself a cup of coffee if he could a) see over the counter, and b) liked coffee?

Feast Day

I am really enjoying of the holidays this year.  The boys are getting into the spirit and have an unnatural attachment to "Jingle Bells".  Yesterday, the 6th, was the Feast Day of St. Nicolas.  At school, Drake and his classmates had their "shoes" filled with goodies.  (Shoes being the paper ones they had colored the day before.  Something about a health code violation to place treats in their actual shoes.  :P )  In the evening, I took the boys to Bruno's European Cafe for good schnitzel and to meet St. Nicolas, all decked out in his traditional bishops' robes. I decided to have the boys eat first, since an unfed boy is a grumpy boy.  While waiting for the food, Drake wanted to write a letter to St. Nicolas on his place mat.  This is what he wanted to write:

Dear St. Nicolas,
I really like your dress.
Thank you.
Drake


The boys ate their adults size meals and made their way to the big man.  Flynn was skittish, but Drake walked right up to him.  They received chocolates, oranges, pfeffernusse, and coloring books.  Most of the chocolate was gone before we returned home.  And the boys bounced off the walls into the night.

Drake- chatting with St. Nicolas

Flynn wanted to start coloring RIGHT NOW!
(Sorry the pic is sideways.  Still trying to figure out that glitch.)

Crazy Cake-Pop Lady

I am not a baker, never have been.  Once I became I mom, I decided that I should at least learn how to decorate a cake.  Then, two months ago, I discovered cake pops.  I am not sure what possessed me to purchase the recipe book.  Maybe it was the pitch that they were east to make.  Maybe I couldn't resist the cute factor.  For whatever reason, I glommed onto them and haven't stopped.  For Thanksgiving, I made my third batch: turkeys.  I have learned much about the technique now.  First, candy melts = super glue.  Don't leave the spoon in the bowl of candy melts when it all cools.  I had to pry the spoon out.  Second, make an assembly line whenever possible.  Third, wear gloves when attaching milk chocolate peanuts. Forth, make the pops over a series of days to keep from losing patience.

I started by making the heads out of milk chocolate peanuts and sprinkles.  All of the bits are really tiny, and therefore, a big pain in the ass.

Do you feel like you are being watched?

I also have a problem with size.  My turkeys turned out to be Butterballs.

Gobbles?

For the second round, I made robots for a potluck Tim was having at work.  I didn't get to place the antennae on top because the hardened shell made it impossible to insert the soma noodle.

The varying expressions were fun to make.

The boys have fun making these, too.  I just give them some cake balls before the coating dries and let them go to town on sprinkles.

Drake is so serious about decorating.

This was the first round: ghosts.  Everything was pretty lumpy, and the food pen didn't work so well on the coating.  I probably needed it to cure longer.

Pre-ghost face

Flynn: quite the ham

This is indeed a fun process, but it is very time consuming.  I do like the results.  Plus, they keep longer than cake.

Meta NaNo- The End

I stopped writing for NaNo.  Although I really like the premise of my novel, I am just not in a writing place right now.  With schedules in chaos, a child with discipline problems at school, being sick, being injured, and being stressed, I just wasn't able to make it work this time.  The process was causing me more stress and anxiety; your hobby or passion shouldn't make you feel that way.  I will let the story sit and simmer for a while.  I will eventually return to it because it is, as I mentioned earlier, a really good premise.  I want to tell it well.

Meta Nano- Week 2

Week 2 was miserable: illnesses, wrist injury, 50 essays to grade, stress.  So little was written.  My most productive times were at the Write-Ins.  Creativity flows there (and plot bunnies fly through the air).  This week should be better.  No major assignments are due.  No holidays.  I will still have to contend with illnesses and such, but I should have time to write.  On a positive note: I have really been furthering the story.  Very little time has been spent on filler and brainstorming.

Current word count: 13,342
Days behind: 6

The Itsy Bitsy Spider by Drake

The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout
But he wasn't there, he was in the wall.
He found the power.
He's been dead a while.
The itsy bitsy spider will be back later.

Hooray!

Flynn's new expression is "Hooray!"  It all started two weeks ago with, "There's Lowe's.  Hooray!"  Here are some other gems.

It fit.  Hooray!
I did it.  Hooray!
Kit Kat.  Hooray!

I wish I could still get so excited about the small things in life.  I should take a lesson from my 2 year old.

Meta NaNo- Days 3 &4

Day 3 was a difficult day dealing with the boy.  I only wrote 133 words.  I was able to hand write the direction of the story.  Oh, and I am sick.  Again.  Yippie.

Day 4 was much better (writing-wise).  I was able to further the plot with not too much blather.  I really need to go to bed now.  The meds are kicking in.  :)

WCU: 8
Words today: 2578

Meta NaNo- Day 2

I was only able to write at the end of the day, after the boys went to sleep.  I am exhausted from the long day, and I am drinking a Mike's Hard Black Cherry Lemonade.  Not the best decision (drinking and writing), but that's life.

Word Count Updates: 3
Words written today: 593 (Yes, I am getting behind, but I am childless for most of the day tomorrow.  Once I finish my work-work, I can write.)
Content:  Still some stream of consciousness, but with a point.  I started writing questions of plot, possibilities, twists and turn.  Still trying to get the creative muscles warmed up.

Meta NaNo- Day 1

Today began my return swim up the NaNoWriMo River.  (Yes, I am comparing myself to a salmon.  This is the PNW, after all.)  I thought it would be interesting to write about the writing experience this time.  I also want to track my habits and see what works for me and what needs to be changed.

Word count for the day: 1698
Number of word count updates: 6
Writing location: Starbucks on Pearl
Content for the day: Began writing first scene.  Got stuck three paragraphs in.  Wrote some stream of consciousness filler to get the creative juices going.  Created back story for main characters and made notes on setting.  Settled on a title.
Note to self: Bring headphones.  The music was awful and I keep eavesdropping on random conversations.
Observed: Old man fell asleep in one of the leather chairs.  When he woke, he was quite embarrassed and asked me if he snored.  I assured him that he did not.  :)

On Halloween

When I taught in the public school, we teachers were told very explicitly that we were not to show in any way, shape, or form that we approved or supported Halloween.  Today, when I dropped off my King Piggy at school, I was pleasantly surprised to see faculty and staff dressed up for the holiday.  Pre-K and K kids were allowed to wear their costumes all day.  The rest of the grades will change into costumes during their respective parties.  I find it funny that the Catholic schools celebrate Halloween and public schools don't/can't.

I always enjoyed the creativity of the holiday.  This year, making costumes was out of the question (which is why my kids are Angry Birds).  Next year, I will try to return to homemade costumes.  When I was a kid, store-bought costumes were the small percentage and homemade costumes were the norm.  Now, it seems to be the opposite.  There's nothing wrong with store-bought costumes, but the fun of the holiday is using imagination to create a look.  Plus, your costume won't match anyone else's.  I saw lots of super heroes and princesses this morning.  Only one King Piggy was present in the sea of students.  Lots of older kids pointed and smiled at Drake's costume.  I think he was uncomfortable being the object of attention, but such is life.

Blogging absence

I have been away from blogging for a while.  It's not because I no longer wish to write.  Quite the contrary.  I have so many thoughts and opinions and stories floating in my head that need to be set free.  On my To Do List, I have "Blog Freedom Fair" and "Blog Chelan Trip".  I want to tell about how Drake is getting the hang of school, how Flynn is evolving his sense of "style", how I am more socially awkward at 37 than I was at 17, how I attacked Camp NaNoWriMo.  I have to let it go and face forward.  It's almost October.  I need to not feel guilty for not completing tasks I am under no obligation to complete.  Time to cut myself some slack and move on to the next writing topic.  But, I will leave you with this: my deranged beauty queen.

Now, picture him wearing pants and waving a small American flag,
and that's how we went to the store last week.

Firsts

One of the great joys of having children is watching them experience something new.  To them, it is exciting and daunting and sometimes scary.  Here are some of the "firsts" experienced by this household as of late:

First family vacation to Chelan
First time back to Chelan since our honeymoon 13 years ago
First time on a motor boat (Drake and Flynn)
First time napping on a motor boat (Flynn)
First time fishing (Drake and Flynn)
First wasp sting (Drake)
First kayak ride (Drake and Flynn)
First model rocket building and launching (Drake and Flynn)
First kite flying (Drake and Flynn)
First model (Drake)
First Brussels sprout (Drake, Flynn, and I... seriously, I don't know how I made it to 37 before eating one)
First day of school (Drake)
First sob-fest watching big brother go off to class and leave you behind (Flynn)
First day at the new daycare (Flynn)


Here's to many more.  :)

1 a.m.

I am awakened by the slap-slap-slap of the Wee One's feet on the tile floor.  He comes armed with all his bedtime accoutrement.  He doesn't say a word.  His cough expresses everything.  He has inherited my sharp cough.  He climbs into our bed; I make sure he is on my side, as to not disturb Tim.  His chest and torso contract, trying to force the cough out.  He desperately wants to sleep, but the constant coughing prevents him.  After twenty minutes, I carry him back to his own bed.  He snuggles in, resting his head on his froggy pillow.  The coughing starts to slow, and his breathing deepens.  He will return to sleep soon, thankfully.

A lesson of cheapness

I can be quite frugal.  I have issues paying full price for anything.  (Yet, I don't use coupons.  Go fig.)  I have learned a valuable lesson, thanks to my boys.  Sure, I could spend less money and buy them shoes at Payless.  But, I will then have to buy multiple pairs because they wear out so quickly, and won't have any to hand down to the other kid.  Drake's Payless shoes didn't make it three months, yet Flynn was wearing Vans that Drake also wore (until he just outgrew them).  From now on, only Vans or Converse for my kids.  Oh, and I'll have to buy from Zappos.  Stores don't like to sell half sizes for small children.  Whatever.

So cool (and sturdy, too!)

F*** cancer

I didn't sleep last night, nor am I sleeping now.  I should be.  I'm exhausted.  No such luck.  Why am I not sleeping?  Last night, I called a dear friend.  "How are you?"  "Fine.  You?"  "Fine."  Pause.  Long pause.  I finally said, "Well, neither of us is really convincing.  Spill."  He told me that on Mother's Day, he took his mom to the hospital because she was in great pain.  After all the tests were run and scans were made, it turns out she has small cell lung cancer.  My grandmother died last year from small cell cancer.  It's a rare form and the odds aren't very favorable.   Two of the most important men in my life have lost their mothers to cancer, and now there's a third.  I'm grief stricken, even though she isn't my mother.  The pain he will feel makes my heart hurt for him.  I'm angry at the medical community.  It can concoct how many different erectile dysfunction medications, but it can't gain any ground on fighting cancer?  I'm frustrated at marketing.  I think we are all aware of cancer now.  Let's funnel some of that money toward research instead of awareness.  And, I feel guilty.  I'm not there to help him.  Phone calls aren't the same as physical presence.  Then, I feel selfish for these feelings and return to grief.

Lather.  Rinse.  Repeat.

Paradigm shift

We live in an exciting time.  Well, I'm not sure how exciting it is, but it is definitely changing.  I'm talking about the paradigm shift that is occurring between artists of all kinds and the traditional means of getting said art out to the public.  An author can now publish his/her own work (in either print or electronic form) with very little expense.  A musician/band can place their songs online for anyone to hear.  Even traditional radio programs are embracing the podcast (Adam Carolla, Dave Pratt).  What's amazing to me is how the traditional publishers are clinging dearly to the old way of doing business.  (I'm going to simplify and say "publishers", when really, it can mean the music labels, movie studios, and the like.)  Sure, a publisher has the publicity juggernaut behind it.  But, we won't stand paying print prices for an e-book for much longer.  Do you know how much it costs to publish an e-book on for the Kindle?  Time.  That's it.  The author formats and edits the book, sets the price, and Amazon takes its cut when someone purchases.  Easy peasy.  Knowing this, why do we pay $19.99 for a current best-seller?  Greedy, greedy bastards.  Some of my colleagues in various English departments are using copyright-free works to incorporate into the classroom.  You want to study Jane Austen?  All of her works can be downloaded for free on the Kindle.  Think of the cost reduction for students.  (Math never changes.  Why do we need a new edition of the textbooks every five years?)  Think of the possibilities, also, for the updating of information.  History textbooks could be updated as events unfold.  The downside to being able to self publish: the inundation of poorly written works.  Oh, wait, we have that now.  At least this way, trees don't have to die to print a lousy book, like Snookie's autobiography.

Speaking of paradigm shifts, I am digging what ABC is doing with Castle.  I'm not happy with its inconsistency of showing the program.  (Wait, it's Monday.  Shouldn't it be on?  The Bachelor?  What the hell?!?)  I am happy with how the creative team has embraced the meta-fiction of it all.  Richard Castle has a web site, Facebook page, and Twitter account.  (Um... he's not real... Shhhh...)  Two Nikki Heat stories have been published with a third on the way.  A graphic novel of Castle's other major character Derek Storm is set to release in September.  A TV show, other than Oprah, is getting people to read a book.  The book is credited to Richard Castle, and ABC isn't telling who the ghost writer is.  I have read both books, and, quite frankly, they are entertaining and better written than some of the "popular" literature floating around out there.

Das BBQ

I enjoy grilling.  It appeals to my sense of laziness simplicity.  Marinate some chicken, throw it on the grill, and in ten minutes, a tasty meal appears.  In Phoenix, I used the grill all the time, since the weather allowed me to so.  This spring in the great PNW has been to miserably soggy, I haven't had a chance.  Thankfully, the rain stopped long enough for me to break out the barbecue for the first time this year. In the last ten days, we have had hamburgers, hot dogs, steak, chicken, and bratwurst.  Today, I tried my hand at yellow tail tuna steaks.  (I'm not a big fish eater, so this was my first time grilling fish, ever.  Turned out fine, I must say.)  Soon, I will make "Beer Butt Chicken".  To make this dish, you shove an open can of beer up the ass of a whole chicken.  Grill for hours.  Tender, tasty chicken.

Drake appears to enjoy the product of the barbecue.  Our conversation on Friday:
D:  Mommy, you can make us some hot dogs on the barbecue.
Me:  Drake, I'm all out of hot dogs.
D:  Then, what are you going to barbecue?

Last night at bedtime:
D: Mommy, tomorrow you can barbecue hot dogs for me and Flynn, and hamburgers for you and Daddy.

It's a darn good thing those boys are carnivores.

Ewwww

My neighbors no longer have garbage service (or recycling or yard waste pick up).  That is really, really gross.  I understand that money is tight nowadays, but is this the area where one should cut back?  I can understand giving up cable and lattes and eating brand name cereal.  But, waste service?  No.  Not a chance.  Even if their three sons are all out of the house, get the smallest garbage can, not stop entirely. We are a family of four and we can get by with the smallest can.  To add to the grossness factor, they have at least three dogs and more than one cat.  Where is the animal waste going?  No wonder their cat shits in our yard.  Even if they pile the waste somewhere and go to the dump once a month, that's a whole lotta fetid fecal matter somewhere on your property.

This is not the first ewww incident with those neighbors.  Rats were living in their garage.  Well, when your garage is full with random stuff and you can't go in there because of said stuff, critters will move in.  I've seen enough hoarding shows to verify this information.  My dad and I were staining the deck our first summer here, and one of the rats invaded our backyard.  I promptly went out and bought rat poison.  Never saw another rat in my backyard.  Now, I hope the stench from their personal landfill doesn't invade.

Update on Grandma D

The women in this family are a bunch of tough old broads.  The grace and strength they have displayed during some trying times is amazing.  Darlene had bypass surgery on Thursday.  The major artery to her left ventricle was 95% blocked.  (Remember kids: shortness of breath while doing nothing is a warning sign for so many issues.  So is passing out after standing up.)  The surgery went quickly with no complications.  We were able to see her by the late afternoon on Thursday.  (I am convinced that Purgatory will be like the waiting room of a hospital: so much waiting with little to do and old magazines to read.)  I went to visit her on Friday.  She was sitting up, and had been able to do so a couple times that day.  She told me, "Don't let anyone kid you; this really hurts."  Honest and blunt.  Her sense of humor is intact.  She said later, "Everyone has said I look better today.  I must have really looked crappy yesterday."  Went back yesterday.  She's still in the ICU.  The hope was that she was to be moved to a regular room yesterday, but that didn't happen.  She's really nauseous.  The nurses keep rebalancing the medication to relieve both the pain and the nausea.  (Could you imagine throwing up after having your chest cracked open?  No thank you.)

That is all for now.  She should be in there a couple more days, and, I think, she'll be moved to a rehabilitation facility to recover.


***Addendum:  This morning, unbeknownst to us, her lungs were full of fluid and had to be drained.  Would've been nice if one of the staff had called anyone in the family.

So long Macho Man

'Macho Man' Randy Savage died in a car accident today. My mentioning it may seem odd and out of place, but he was a big part of my childhood. My dad, brother, and I watched wrestling together, back in the day. I remember the very first WrestleMania. Macho Man, the Hulkster, Rowdy Roddy, George the Animal Steele, the Iron Sheik, the Russian guy (having a brain fart on his name). My dad took us to see it live at Veterans' Memorial Coliseum, along with some family friends. It was a proud moment for him when his young daughter chanted "bullshit" along with the rest of the capacity crowd. Ahh, good times.

Although I didn't know him, I still feel a twinge of loss. He was a big part of my youth and some very fond memories. (Losing Chuck Jones was the biggest loss from childhood.) If nothing else, this is a jog down memory lane that I can share with others. I wonder what those fond childhood memories will be for my kids.

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I finally saw "Tron Legacy"



So, I heard they were looking for Flynn.

They searched high and low for him.

Found him!  There he is!

The Massive "To Do" List

My to do list is epic, much on the level of a Tolstoy novel.  It is so massive that it is sub-categorized.  Seriously.  And, at long last, I have had enough.  It needs to go away and never return.  I have finally come to my senses and decided to delegate.  I know this completely flies in the face of "work ethic" and "do it yourself" and "this crappy economy".  Well, that's nice and all, but I've been staring at the same items month after month, without the slightest hope of ever crossing an item of that damn list.  What finally set me on the path of delegation?  Ironing.  Yup, ironing.  I despise ironing (and I'm a little resentful about doing the chore).  I fell so far behind that Tim was running out of clothes to wear and I would have to press something before he left for work that day.  A few weeks ago, I finally collapsed under stress and depression.  I grabbed the five most difficult shirts from his closet and took them to a dry cleaner.  I felt no shame or remorse for my actions.  When I picked up that batch, I dropped of four more shirts.  When I picked up that batch, I dropped off every shirt in his closet that was in need of ironing.  An enormous weight had been lifted.  Yes, I am able bodied and I can do it myself and I have the ability to do it myself.  But, you know what, I am tired of spending my time doing things I despise.  I would like my spare time to be reserved for doing things I actually enjoy (or at least spending only half the time doing stuff that needs to be done instead of all of my time).  Yesterday, the yard guys came.  They cleaned up in three hours what I haven't been able to do in months.  I don't mind planting in the garden.  But, weeding sucks, and with my carpal tunnel, it really hurts.  (A few weeks ago, I lost several days of productivity due to a rogue tube of cinnamon rolls.  It was quite embarrassing.)  Today, workmen are here running coax and Cat-5 cables from the house to the office.  That item was placed on the to do list four years ago.  It's finally getting done.  And, at long last, I have no guilt about it, whatsoever.

I admire others who have the time, inclination, and energy to do everything.  I read their status updates about spending the day sewing 300 burp cloths, cleaning the house, cooking 40 freezer meals, then taking the kids for a walk. They work all day (either at an office or raising children), and then work on the house, go hiking/skiing/running/biking, go to a game/concert/play/tarot reading, study for school, entertain, and volunteer.  I barely have the energy to drag my ass out of bed, much less accomplish anything nowadays.  Can someone find a way to add more hours to the day?  Technology should be advanced enough to do that, right?

If you give a toddler a hose

This is Flynn's idea of watering the garden.  (Shot from the safety and dryness of the house.)

We were all soaked within five minutes.

I've been meaning to write, but...

Since my return from my Vacation to Restore Sanity, life has been a blur.  Blur with a capital B.  Instead of rambling on and on about why it's been a blur, let's turn to some handy bullet points.

A five week condensed course is great in theory.  In practice, and when it coincides with a ten week regular course, it blows.

Old friends stopped by for a visit.  It was great to see them again.  The super short notice added to the week of super-stress.  Oh well.  The unfortunate part of their visit was when the pipes under the sink ruptured.  I stopped freakin' and called Beacon.

Drake has his first trip to the ER.  I'm surprised he made it to the ripe old age of four before it happened.  I assumed it would have happened much sooner.  Head injuries produce copious amounts of blood.  I don't deal well with blood.  On the upside, the new ER at Tacoma General/Mary Bridge Children's Hospital is lovely.

Easter.  The boys were pleasantly surprised that the plastic eggs were filled with candy. 

I turned 37.  Not such a big deal.  It happens.

Mother's Day was delightful.  (Thank you, boys.  All three of you.)

Flynn has started potty training.  I give him nickels as a reward.  (My kids prefer monetary rewards.)  He places his cash in the "Donation" portion of his piggy bank.  It's nice to see it all going to a good cause.

Depression makes me a lousy mother.  Time to go and get some happy pills.

And there you have it.  The last 7 1/2 weeks in a nice, tidy package.  I will hopefully return to my regularly scheduled writing soon, maybe once the quarter has ended.  :)

A Confession

I have the DVR set to record the royal wedding.

To the casual observer, this bit of information is shocking and unexpected.  To those who know that deep, deep, DEEP down I have an inner girly-girl, it isn't so much. 

I distinctly recall watching the wedding of Charles and Diana.  I remember the coverage started at five in the morning.  I remember what the TV looked like.  (It was the TV that eventually ended up in my parents' room.  The On/Off button fell off and a piece of tubing was inserted in its place.  It has two dials: one for lower channels and one for UHF.)  The wedding was quite an event.  All the spectacle.  That ridiculously long train on her dress.  The sparkling jewels. 

This wedding is the modern take on the fairy tale.  Kate is a commoner who landed a prince; it's the ultimate fantasy.  A commoner who will eventually be queen.  (Let's face it-- Charles will never be king because Queen Elizabeth is going to outlive him.)  Diana was already an aristocrat when she married Charles.  Plus, wouldn't it be nice to have an occasion to wear a tiara and not look foolish?

Just an observation (please, no hate mail)

I teach mostly online, but I still grace the campus with my illustrious presence. I noticed as I was grading essays that the students in fully online courses tend to write on more religious subjects. When my students see my face, they tend to leave god out of their writing. Both groups are given identical parameters. The first essay in this batch was about being Christian. Unfortunately for her, the essay with rife with misinformation. There is at least one essay about being Mormon in the group. (Over half the essays were about religion.)

So now I'm curious.  Why is there a higher percentage of students writing on religious subjects in an online class versus a face-to-face class?  Are there more overly religious students in online programs?  Do their religious beliefs make them not want to step foot on an campus?  Do they feel safer at a distance, free from religious persecution?  Or is it just the anonymity that emboldens them?  Most people are more snarky when online because of the detachment.  Maybe this applies to religion, too.

:) (Drake gems of the day)

Drake:  Mommy, when I'm 21, I'll move out of the house.
Me: You're going to move out when you are 21?
D: No, I don't think so.
M:  What made you say that?
D:  I've been eating jellybeans.  They make me say funny things.

***

Drake: Mommy, I can't get my pants on.  They are not understanding me.

Kid logic

At the allergist's office last week, Drake was playing a game on my phone.  The app is cute.  Kids need to fit colored pieces into a larger shape.  (I'm cheap and only downloaded the free, lite version.  There are only 20 shapes to scroll through.)  Flynn and I were watching Drake slide the pieces into the bigger picture.  I asked him if he knew what the picture was.  "It's a lizard."  And I responded to him, "Yes.  That's a gecko, and a gecko is a type of lizard."

His response:  "Yeah, and it talks sometimes."

I guess we haven't covered reality vs. TV non-reality yet.

Flynn's Pom Pom Critter Song

In order to understand the video at the end, I have to explain the situation in parts.

Part 1-  We made pom pom critters today.  The craft project was a bit of a fiasco, but the boys enjoyed themselves.

One of the mostly decent PPCs made.
(Don't pick him up, however.  The glue was not so sticky.)

Part 2-  Children pick up on our habits.  I was unaware of how much I hum to myself until both boys started doing it.  I also enjoy making up songs.  My most famous song is the "Spicy Beef Song".  Tim and I had been married for three or four years before I created that one.  There's also a dance to go along with it.

Part 3- My children love cameras. They really do. As much as they love cameras, they aren't keen on standing still having their picture taken. They immediately want to see the result on the LCD screen. They are more interested in seeing themselves on the screen than doing the work needed for me to take the damn picture to appear on the screen. Video is more difficult to caputre. I have to be really, really sneaky to get video of them any more.

And now, without further ado, the Pom Pom Critter Song!

OK, so he's just shouting "pom pom critters" over and over while banging the drum.  He would do it for long stretches, until, naturally, I brought out the camera. 

Dragonfly

This is Dragonfly.  He's a wind up toy that we've had for almost a year.  Yesterday, Drake's nurturing instincts finally kicked in.  He made an elaborate bed for Dragonfly (as seen above).  He protected him from Flynn, and generally took excellent care of him.  Dragonfly had conversations with Drake, translated, of course, through Daddy.  Toward bedtime, I gave Drake a shoebox to make a new bed for Dragonfly.  Drake decorated the box and used an old towel to make a bed.  At night, he and I tucked in Dragonfly and gave him kisses.  This morning, Dragonfly was found tucked in next to Drake. 

Wait, was that the sun?

On Friday, the PNW finally had a reprieve from all the damn rain.  As a result, EVERYONE went to the park.  I think all the kids got along because they were all so grateful to be out of doors instead of cooped up.

Flynn adopted a new family, mostly because they had bubbles and balls.

Drake, trying to figure out how to reach the monkey bars.
(He's practicing for Ninja Warrior.)

Achieving Total Victory
(OK, he just climbed to the top of the climbing rock.)

A note to all you single guys out there.  If you want to pick up chicks, take Flynn with you.  That boys made the rounds, chatting up every woman with a dog.  He never said hi to a dog that was there with a guy.  Only the ladies.  He can work a crowd.

Hello, ladies.  I see you have a small dog.

The coolest part of the day was when the Chinook flew overhead.  Every boy (big and small) stopped whatever he was doing and looked toward the sky, mouths agape and silent for several minutes.  All the girls stopped for a split second, wondering where the noise was coming from, then returned to business as usual.

The picture doesn't do it justice.  It was flying pretty low.

Eavesdropping

I'm a notorious eavesdropper.  I can't help it.  I know it's rude.  But today, it wasn't my fault.  Here's why.  As an adjunct, I don't have my own office.  I share a large space with all of the other adjuncts on campus.  In the center of the room is an area with sofas for instructors to meet with students.  Knowing I have a problem with eavesdropping, I shouldn't pick a desk next to this area.   But, usually, that is all that is open when I finally show up to use the office space.  A math teacher and her pissed off student sit down, and this is when I started listening...

"The problem I have with math teachers is..."

This student is incredibly bitchy and has an overdeveloped sense of entitlement.  I cannot hear the instructor's side of the conversation because she is keeping her voice low.  The student, however, is practically shouting.  Here are some of the gems. 

"If you miss a step,  I'll create a file and make everything difficult for you."

"I knew I was going to have a problem with you, but I took your class anyway."

"I don't come to class because it's a waste of my time."

"That I need to attend, that's your opinion.  It's my right to leave or not attend.  have you ever thought of that?"

Instructor:  "Do you want to be treated special?"
Student:  "No, but I'm going to do things my way.  Until it's written in the syllabus, I'm going to do things my way."

"I already know the information."

"I'm going to let you finish talking, and then I'm going to."

"I'm paying to be here.  If I want to not attend, that's my right.  No, it's my time to talk now."

"I'm there.  My stuff's there."

I started typing this, mostly so it didn't look like I was eavesdropping.  That, and she finally lowered her voice.  The last thing I overheard was the student going on about students' rights and needing a third party mediator to settle this. 

So, here's how I understand it.  The instructor established the rules of her class.  Be on time.  Stay the whole time.  Don't get up during class because it's disruptive to the others in the class.  Show your work.  Here are the assignments.  This student feels she knows it all, and, due to her poor planning, has to get up to pee frequently during class.  Personally, I don't care.  That is how I have established my class.  I do tell my students not to act like assholes and be respectful.  But, she teaches math, which requires more precision and less bullshitting.  That is how she has set up her course.  Every instructor is different, but you need to follow the rules set forth by your instructor.  If you don't like it, don't take a class from that instructor.  Vote with your feet.

After the student left, the instructor was exasperated.  She said, "Why does she keep taking classes from me?"

Want a good laugh?

When in Phoenix, the existence of a certain photograph became part of discussion.  Upon my return home, I unearthed said photo from its ancient photo album, in order to scan it and send the embarrassing proof to friends.  When I did this, the photo album fell apart.  Pictures were everywhere.  So, I now needed to scan all the photos instead of just one.  (And that project was moved up on the mighty and massive "To Do" list.)

There is a considerable amount of downtime in between each scan.  While waiting for the machine to perform its duty, I read the notes written on the back of the photos.  It is always a good idea to write on the back of photos so you can remember who the hell those people are and what we all were doing in that shot.  (Nowadays, one would tag the photo.)  The real entertainment was reading the messages written on the back of the school photos.  If you want a good laugh, go back and read those messages.  I won't divulge any of that info here, but I can tell you that it involves many exclamation points and BFFs.  You can't get that kind of entertainment exchanging photos on Facebook.  It's a lost art, being that it's handwritten.  Reading the messages written in your yearbook is just as entertaining.

My super awesome (but super short) AZ adventure

All I wanted for Christmas was a trip (by myself) to Phoenix to see old friends.  The depression and isolation have been really wearing me down, and I needed a break to restore my sanity.  I finally got my trip at the end of March.  I planned it for that particular time because it was between quarters.  I had no desire to check in with students while on vacation.

Airline seats have remained the same size, but the ass sizes of travelers have increased significantly.  Even as I was squished against the window, I was able to be happy and cheerful.  Here's why.

The return of the Honey Roasted Peanut.  It used to be the only time I was able to get HRP was on a plane.  It made flying super cool.  But now, if I am lucky enough to be served peanuts, they are dry roasted.  Blah.

Thursday night: Bunco then Karaoke.  Who has two thumbs and was the big cash winner?  This girl!  That's right.  I crash the group and take all the money.  Sweet.  Drinks were on me at karaoke.  At karaoke, I was reminded why I never do it.  I would like to take this time to apologize to all the patrons of O'Kelley's for my "singing". 

Friday: Mexican food, pedicures, Happy Hour.  The most common refrain I heard was, "You look exactly the same as you did in high school."  Ummm... well... If they meant when I made and effort and looked like this:

...then I will totally accept the phrase as a compliment.  [The best part about this photo (other than my handsome and charming date/boyfriend) was the dress.  It was a size 3.  It may have been the last time I ever wore size 3, but that's neither here nor there.]  Most of the time in high school, I looked like this:

...only my hair was usually bigger.  Same stupid style, just bigger all around, like a lion's mane.  (Roar!)


Oh, during all of this, the super late nights and lots of socializing, my body was unaware that it was on vacation.  I kept waking up at 5:30.  Pbbbbbtttt!  (I also managed to consume more alcohol in those 5 days than I have in the last six months.)

Saturday: RenFest, In-N-Out Burger, Bogey's.  Going to the RenFest with a kid made me look at the festival in a different way.  I learned all about which shows were appropriate and which were not.  It was also fun going with someone who was dressed up and it wasn't considered geeky in any possible way.

Sunday: Breakfast big enough to choke a horse, Casa de Panichello, Fibber Magee's.  Spent most of the day laughing.  One of the best days I have had... ever.

Before I left on this trip, I wasn't sure if I would be more depressed upon my return.  Having my good friends so far away can be really depressing.  But, depressed I am not.  I am lucky.  Sure, I may not have a crapton of friends, but what I lack in quantity, I more than make up for in quality.  I have found people with whom I can laugh until I cry, cry until I laugh, and completely be myself.  Time and distance hasn't changed any of that, and, for that, I am lucky. And grateful.

I am also lucky and grateful for the three people who were ecstatic for my return home. 

Two of the three insisted on helping me with my suitcase.  Tim wanted to help, but there was no room left on the handle.

Airport silliness

I made it through security ridiculously easy today, but was slowed down by a few things I thought I should share.

First, the TSA agent manning the metal detector was a major dick. He yelled at this mother to remove her infant's sweater, then yelled at the father to place the umbrella stroller on the belt for the scanner. This couple's two older children were petrified to walk through the detector because of this guy.

Second, the same TSA agent made this old man with a prosthetic leg remove his leg and place it on the conveyor belt to be scanned. Then, this poor guy had to hop through the detector, unable to use his cane. The cane had to be scanned, too.

Third, the family of four ahead of me in line apparently had never flown before, or they are unaware of the concept of traveling light. They placed on the belt four giant rolling carry-ons and (I am not making this up) eight additional bins full of purses, laptops, coats, belts, and god knows what. Then, once everything was on the conveyor, they just stood there, thus preventing the rest of us from doing anything. Um, I went to Germany for two months as a teenager, and I didn't take that much crap. I can only imagine where they were going for the weekend.

Enough with the complaining. I'm on vacation now. :)

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Too many?

I'm sitting in the waiting room at my eye doctor. The guy three chairs down pulled out his ipad. Ok. That makes sense. Now, he's reading on his Kindle. I'm guessing he has a high tech phone, too. Does one need this many devices while waiting for the doctor?

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Little drummer boy

Flynn received a toy drum for his birthday two months ago. The drum is incredibly sturdy, able to withstand his exuberance. His new thing is to have jam session after he wakes in the morning. He crawls out of bed to fetch his drum and mp3 player. He returns to bed, turns on the music, and plays along with the songs. Today, in true rock star form, when the song ended, I heard him say, "Thank you, thank you!"

Awesome!

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Drake's latest obsession

Monster trucks haven't fully fallen out of favor with Drake.  He's just moved on and broadened his obsessions horizons.  Yes, he asks to play the Wii every day, but what has really captured his interest is Ninja Warrior. 

For those unfamiliar with the show, it's the most insanely difficult obstacle course ever created.  Only three people in the show's history have ever completed all four stages.  Why do the Japanese love crazy obstacles?  Not sure.  But, this one is serious.  It isn't MXC or Wipeout.  It's really, really serious.  And, the contestants are in amazing physical condition.  I don't think they win anything except glory and honor.

NW has made it's way into Drake's heart, and into his play time.  We were at the park, and he was climbing a rope ladder.  He shouts to me, "Look, Mommy, I'm competing!"  He reached the top and pumped his fists in the air, knowing he had achieved Total Victory (just like on NW).

The funniest incorporation of NW comes during "quiet" time.  (Quiet... that's funny.)  He changes his room around to create an obstacle course.  He leaps off of furniture and runs around.  (He shouldn't be flushed after resting.) 

He turned an IKEA step stool into a trampoline.  You know, the cheap white plastic thing that retails for $3.  One of the obstacles in NW is called the Spider Jump.  Contestants run and jump onto a small trampoline.  This then launches the guy between two structures, where he supports himself using only his hands and feet.  Drake was recreating the Spider Jump.  I could hear a whump... WHUMP.  Then I heard it again.  The last time-  whump... WHUMP... thwack!  "Ow!  Mommy, I hurt myself."  (stifle giggle)  "What happened, kiddo?"  "I hit the wall."  Yup, that happens.

Tim had an interesting observation about the show.  In the American version (American Ninja Warrior), most of the contestants are 24 and, for some odd reason, work in IT.  In the Japanese version, the ages are all over place, and the careers are just as varied.  There are a lot of professional athletes.  I didn't know one could be a professional trampolinist in Japan.  That's pretty awesome.  

Another observation.  There is a female version of NW.  The course isn't as difficult, but it is still challenging.  90% of the Japanese women competing are really good looking.  And, they are in amazing physical shape.  In America, the women in that type of physical form aren't nearly as hot.  I wonder why that is?

The first (of many, I'm sure) swear word

Last week, we enjoyed copious amounts of snow.  The boys and I went tromping around in it.  In some places, the snow reached as high as the top of Flynn's boots.  Snowballs were made and thrown.  A tiny snowman was stomped into oblivion.  Good times were had be all.

After outdoor snowy time, the three of us came in to enjoy some hot chocolate.  Flynn, being Flynn, spilled his all over the table and floor.  As I was reaching for a paper towel, Drake says,

"Oh, damn it."

I wasn't sure how to respond.  I remember all of the advice says to not freak out, or laugh, or respond in any way, really.  I said to him, "Um, Drake, what did you just say?"  

"I said damn it."

I remained calm, trying not to laugh.  "I thought so."  I proceeded to tell him that damn was a grown-up word and that he should use darn.  He didn't seem too excited about that.  Such is life.  I'm sure I'll be hearing more in the future.  I'm surprised he made it this long.

Details, Shmetails

Tim will tell you, details are not my strong suit. You would think as an English teacher that I would pay attention to such things. And, you would be wrong. I claim it's because I am grading, not proofreading. After 10 years of this, I can skim an essay and give an accurate grading assessment. Skimming is a great skill to possess, but it can bite you in the ass. I am so pre-programmed to skim that I gloss over important details, like "take with food" or "add eggs last".

This post is not about my lack of attention to detail; it's about a future student. I received a panicky email from a woman enrolled in my class for spring term. She was freaking out because she didn't have access to the course online. I responded that the course will open one week before classes start, which will be March 28. Her reply was that she should have had access on the 21st, since it was March 28. My reply: today is February 28.

I have lost days before, but never a whole month.

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The weekend of the big 0-4

The last several days have been quite busy.  Drake turned 4 on Friday, complete with his yearly check up.  He reached a crucial milestone in his manhood: he had to pee in a cup.  He didn't just pee; he filled the damn thing.  And he was really excited to do it.  The other people in the waiting room could hear him shout, "Mommy!  Have they checked the pee yet?!"  I'm such a proud momma.  Flynn was very clingy in the exam room.  I had to remind him repeatedly that we were there for Drake and nothing would be done to him.  He was still skeptical, even after we left the office.  We joined Mom for lunch at McDonald's, baked cookies in the afternoon, and picked up Daddy at the bus station before going to Wendy's for dinner.  The day ended by watching the truck race.

Saturday was another big day: our Ikea shipment arrived.  One new couch, and two new beds with bookcase headboards. Assembling Ikea furniture with two small children in the house is a whole new set of challenges.  Taking out the old furniture freaked out the boys more.  Why is the chair leaving the room?  Why are you taking apart the crib?  Flynn didn't like being locked out of room, but, he steals important hardware and tries to use the power screwdriver on people.  Drake was quite helpful to Tim while putting all the piece together.  (Anybody need some cardboard?)  Flynn slept for the first time in his new bed.  He got used to it after a while.  Hopefully tonight will be better. 

Today, the Daytona 500 was on.  I had planned to take notes of the funny things Drake said during the race, like I did for the Super Bowl.  I didn't for two reasons.  1.  Racing isn't new to him, so his observations aren't as unusual.  He knows when a tire goes down and when an engine blows.  He listens for his driver's name.  He did lose his ever-lovin' mind when the commercial for the new Cars movie came on.   2.  I didn't get to sit and watch most of the race.  I was getting everything ready for family to come over, including getting more stupid frosting.   (BTW, congrats to Trevor Bayne for winning the race.  He turned 20 yesterday, and it was his 2nd cup start.)

If there is ever a time in my future when I question my abilities and dedication as a mother, I need to remember this:

Yes, I did that.  That's what he wanted: a pink guitar cake.

Now, Flynn and I are sitting on the couch watching DVD monkey (Curious George episodes).  All the family members are gone.  Drake went to the Grandparents' for his first overnighter.  Tim went to get in some poker time.  It's fairly early, and Flynn's eyes are starting to get heavy.  (No nap today-- new bed and too much excitement.)  Looks like an early bedtime for him.  As for me, looks like a good night to snuggle in on the new couch and watch Sixteen Candles while wearing my jammies and drinking an amaretto sour.  And there is still one more day to this weekend...

Side effect

There is an unforeseen side effect of having a smartphone. I am even more obsessed with Facebook, almost to the level of being stalkerish. I am constantly checking fb. And since it is easier to check than on the laptop... Well, you get the idea.

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A true test of my mothering resolve

Today, Drake and I had a conversation about his upcoming birthday.  On Friday, he turns the big 0-4.  On Sunday afternoon, my family is coming over to celebrate.  (My niece is competing in State for wrestling on Friday and Saturday.)  I asked Drake what type of dessert he wanted and gave him some choices.  He said, "Cake!" which is really unusual since he is not a fan of cake.  Okey dokey.  I asked him if he would like the cake to be in a special shape.  "Ummm... a triangle!"  I don't think they make triangle shaped cake pans, but what do I know.  Off to Joann's we went.

The answer is no, no triangle shaped cake pans (at least, not at Joann's).  I took the boys to the cake decorating aisle.  I let Drake pick out a shaped pan.  He picked a guitar.  He even passed up the Lightning McQueen pan (which I am secretly happy about-- so much work involved).  OK, one guitar cake.  He's never played one, never really shown any interest. 

"Drake, what color would you like your cake to be?  They have red, blue, purple, green, pink, brown..."
"Pink!"
"Pink?"
"Yes, Mommy, pink."
"Are you sure you want pink?"
"Yes."
*sigh* "Pink it is."

As a girl, I am not a fan of pink.  I rarely wear it, and when I do, it is usually in the context of breast cancer awareness.  But now, my son is asking for something pink.  Before I was a parent, I swore I wouldn't impose gender roles on my children.  *snort*  Have you seen this house?  Cars and trains and frogs and dragons and monster trucks.  They do have a play house and aprons and lots of crafty supplies, but mostly boy stuff.  If Drake was a girl asking for a blue dump truck shaped cake, I wouldn't bat an eyelash.  I guess there will be plenty of time later in life for Drake to be aware of what is standard for male and females.  I should just honor his wishes and make the damn cake pink. 

I did buy some green icing, just in case he changes his mind.  He is, after all, going to be 4.  He's been known to change his mind within 30 seconds.

Post-surgery update: the Flynn edition

Yesterday morning, I had the unique pleasure of waking my youngest extra early to take him to Mary Bridge Children's Hospital for surgery to unclog his clogged tear duct.  Fun!  Not a word was spoken on the car ride over.  He perked up once we arrived, returning to his normal state of "What's that?" every five seconds.  There was quite of bit of waiting around.  We had to wait to be checked in.  Flynn didn't mind; he was running around exploring and saying hi to everyone he encountered.  He only asked for food three times.  (That was my biggest concern about the day.  Both of my children are extreme cranks without food, and F wasn't allowed to eat after midnight.)  We were finally checked in and shown to our room, where I was given the scrubs to dress the boy. 

Hospital gowns don't fit so well when one is tiny.

I have to say this about Mary Bridge.  What an awesome facility!  Yes, we had to wait a bunch, but you know what, Flynn didn't notice.  He had a play kitchen, dump trucks, books, and other kids to play with.  He favorite activity was to go up and down the hall in a Little Tikes Cozy Coupe saying, "Race!  Race!"  He did notice that one by one, his new little friends were going away.  [BTW, the kids go in order of age, not scheduling time.  Twelve kids were there yesterday.  Flynn was one of the oldest.  I was under the impression that the child had to be two before having this done.  I guess the not-my-doctor felt differently.]

See, there were pants under those gowns.

Then his little friends started returning, but now they were crying. Flynn was growing quite concerned. (Those kids were happy a little while ago...)  Then it was time to get Flynn's vitals and give him some pre-surgery pain meds.  You would have thought he was being strangled while watching his teddy bear be set on fire*.  He eventually calms down, then we are ushered back to the surgery area.  In a tiny room, we meet with the doctor, the anaesthesiologist, and the attending nurse.  Then, the nurse takes Flynn.  I am not allowed in the operating room or the recovery room.  Flynn was heartbroken, armed outstretched, crying, trying to escape from the evil nurse who had carried him off.  The look on his face just about broke my heart.

I was told by some nurse early on that there wouldn't be time for me to run down and grab some food while Flynn was in surgery.  She wasn't kidding.  After Flynn was taken away, I sat down, posted to Facebook, read a couple of e-mails, and then the doctor returns to tell me Flynn was in the recovery room.  He told me there was more blood than usual, but that happens.  (I am grateful that he didn't say "it's not uncommon".  I despise that phrase.)  Ten minutes later, a very sad and blood-smeared faced Flynn is wheeled out.  Poor kid.  Not a word was spoken on the ride home.

After an hour of Animaniacs, the boys finally decided he was hungry.  He should have been; it had been 16 hours since he last ate.  We had post-lunch railroad construction time.  He turned very cranky very quickly.  Nap time!  He slept for four hours, not fully restful the entire time, but four hours nonetheless.  He was incredibly clingy when he woke.  We snuggled on the couch and watched some vintage 90210 (Rush week!).  The care instructions told me to push liquids.  I offered him water: no.  I offered him juice: yes.  While standing in the kitchen, he pushed away the juice and proceeded to vomit over the two of us.  Fun!  He felt much better after that.  Joy.  A little while late, Tim brings Drake home from daycare.  Miss Tracy had the kids make Flynn a get well soon card with all of their hand prints and quotes to Flynn.  Made me cry.  That was the sweetest thing ever.

Part of his treatment is to prevent injuries and falls.  I am unable to do this when he is feeling fine; how on earth do these people expect me to do this when he isn't 100%?  I am also supposed to give him eye drops four times a day for five days.  Do you know how tightly my son can clamp his eyelids shut?  The jaws of life couldn't pry those suckers open.

Flynn's feeling pretty good this morning.  How do I know this?  When I got him out of his crib this morning, he wasn't wearing a diaper.  He sleeps in fully zipped footed jammies.   My little Houdini is almost back to normal.


*I know we aren't supposed to compare children, but this experience has reminded me what a pro Drake is when it comes to all things medical.  He has been seeing specialists since the womb and has been poked and prodded numerous times.  He now chats it up with the technician drawing his blood.  I can't even do that.

You have got to be kidding...

I found my first grey hair this morning.  Normally, I wouldn't have noticed such a thing; I have so much hair of varying colors that it could have mingled among the other strands happily for years before I freaked out.  But not this hair.  Nooooooo.  It demanded my full attention by standing straight up.  Straight up!  Not frizzy, like its cohorts, but Ed Grimley stand on end style.  Little bugger.  I thought I wasn't supposed to get grey hairs until my kids were driving or playing goalie.  Ack!

Super Bowl Sunday

We have not exposed the boys to much football, mostly because we are a racing family.  They know all about Daytona, Indy, and Monaco.  (Drake also knows quite a bit about Texas Hold 'Em, but that's another story.)  Here's a bit of our experience from Super Bowl XLV, both conversations with Drake and my snarky responses.

Drake:  Mommy, can I watch monster trucks?
Me: No honey.  Monster trucks aren't on because of the Super Bowl.
D: What's the Super Bowl?
M:  The biggest football game of the year.
D:  OK, let's watch that.
...
D:  Mommy, I think Ben Steeler is going to win because he steals the ball then throws it to Packer.
...
I must go see Cowboys vs. Aliens.   Mmmm... Daniel Craig... Yes, please!
...
I wish they would change the name of the drink to "Eminem's Shut up and Drink it".
....
D:  There's a LOT of football players today.
...
D:  Oh!  They all crashed!   Oh no, he dropped the ball!
...
Joan Rivers in booty shorts?  I need some Purell for my eyeballs.
...
D:  Flynn! Go Away!  I'm watching football right now.
...
D: Did they win?
M: No honey.  It's only the second quarter.
D:  What does that mean?
M:  There are four quarters in a game, like there are four quarters in a dollar.
D:  Mommy, can I have a dollar?
...
D:  Are they going to play all day?
...
The Darth Vader Volkswagen commercial is awesome, but I think the whole world saw it last week through Facebook.
...
(After seeing a Steeler throw his helmet) D:  Mommy, what happened to his hat?!?  Why did he lose his hat?!?
...
I am already addicted to Facebook.  I don't need my car giving me status updates while I drive.
...
(After Steelers touchdown)  D:  Oh, he touched it.  Now he needs to throw it over the goal.
...
We had the game paused while we went out to Wendy's.  I get to skip the entire halftime show.  From what I gather from FB, it blows in a major way.
...
Another show about people fabricating vehicles in a short amount of time while yelling at each other.  Yippie...
...
When your beard sticks through your helmet, it's time for a shave.
...
The game is into the third quarter, and Drake's interest is starting to wane.  Flynn has been trying to get my attention the whole game.  Let the sibling squabbles begin!
...
Drake just earned a four minute penalty for hitting.
...
How many bloody G's are there?  Oh, Ozzy, is there anything you won't shill?  Still love you, though.
...
The Steelers just scored.  We just switched over to the Puppy Bowl on Animal Planet.  Both boys enthralled.
...
Now checking the score online.  I think we are done with the game.  Better luck next year.

Communication Breakdown

Conversation with Drake yesterday afternoon.

Me:  Drake, we are going to go to Metropolitan Market.  It's the place that has the carts your size that you like to push around.
Drake:  Mommy, when we are there, can we get some bells.  When you eat them, they get smaller and they are rainbow colored.
M:  You want bells that get smaller when you eat them and are rainbow colored?
D:  No, Mommy, bells.
M:  Bells?
D:  Bells.
M:  Bells?
D:  No.  Beeeeeeeeeelllllllllllsssssss.
M: [Light bulb going on over head]  Drake, do you mean bears?
D:  Yes, bears.
M:  Gummi bears?
D:  Yes, gummi bears.

W-2s

I can tell that I've been sick. January is almost over and my taxes aren't done yet. Egad! I have entered our W-2 forms. I laughed aloud when entering my wage figures from last year. I made more last year teaching part time than during my first year teaching high school. Ha!

Just for fun, I looked up the current salary schedule for Chandler Unified. Starting salary: $35K. In ten years, it has increased $10K. Not bad. It's not great. Keep in mind that in most states, secondary teachers are paid more than elementary teachers (not true of CUSD). The average salary of a secondary teacher in the country is now $52K. California has the highest average salary for secondary teachers at $63K. Who knew?

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Turning 2

Around these parts, the second birthday celebration is non-existent.  Drake missed out on a party because he became violently ill the morning of the scheduled party.  Flynn ended up following in Drake's footsteps.  We were all so very ill.

Our kitchen counter.
A pharmacy threw up here.

We did manage to have a treat with the boys and Mom and Dad. 

Brownies with lots of frosting.
(The frosting was the first to go.)

Although the celebration was low key, he didn't seem to mind.  He still got presents that he loves.

Grandpa showing how the crane can pick up a monster truck.

We are just now returning to the land of the living.  Maybe next year, we won't be sick.  (Knock on wood)

Happy Birthday, Little Dude!

Untimely departure

The daughter of an old friend died today. Over the weekend, she overdosed. She was in a medical-induced coma, and there were glimmers of hope that her condition would improve. Sadly, she lost the battle today. A lovely 17 year old has departed this realm far too early.

I do not know the details as to why she did what she did. Was it over a boy? Was she tormented at school? Did she have a chemical imbalance? I don't know. When I was a teenager, I made an "attempt", but it was really for attention. Whatever was plaguing this girl, it was far more serious.

I am a fan of the It Gets Better Project, a movement to let young gay and lesbian teens that life will improve once you leave high school. I think this needs to be expanded to all teenagers. School is hell. Wading through the shark-filled social waters can be taxing on even the most grounded of people.  And, let's face it, if you peak in high school, you have bigger issues.

We tend to get wrapped up in the trivialities of daily life. I'm trying to figure out how to get all the golden eggs on Angry Birds, and my friend now has to plan her daughter's funeral. So, tonight, hug you little ones a little tighter.

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Mobile blog (it's late)

I'm up late, and I am playing with my new phone. This round of illnesses has really hit this family hard. The boys are on the mend, as evidenced by the fighting and bickering. Lots of regression in both. So tired. But, I'm really digging my Droid. And, yes, I have downloaded Angry Birds.

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What I've learned this week: The Mega-Illness Edition.

We are all sick.  Between the four of us, there are five ear infections and two sinus infections.  Hooray!  Here is what I have learned in the past week.

*If either of my children is really, really still, he is super duper sick.  Get him to a doctor right away. 
*If either of my children is really, really still, it's unsettling.
*Although it sounds like a good idea at the time, do not take a toddler with you to Urgent Care.
*My boys enjoy watching Mythbusters and Wipeout.
*Monster Jam comes on at 2 on Speed.
*I can handle only so much PBS Kids.
*Flynn prefers to use me as both his pillow and personal Kleenex while sick.
*Drake prefers to be left alone while sick.
*You will get sick if a small child coughs in your face for two straight days.
*Frostys from Wendy's will get both boys out of a funk.
*While coughing is productive, it breaks my heart to hear my little ones do it for a solid hour.

Justice Island

Have you heard of Justice Island?  Neither have I, and Drake had it in his head that we were going there today to ride bikes.  Ummm... K?  He was even telling random people of our plans.  They looked at me to see if I knew what he was talking about.  Nope.  Completely at a loss.

I had to deduce what the heck he meant.  If I didn't, he would surely lose his mind.  So, I began to ask questions.
Me:  Is Justice Island a real place?
Drake: Yes.
M:  You didn't see it on the TV or a video game?
D: No.
M: Have we ever been there?
D: No.
M: Do you know how to get there?
D: No.  But, I have a magic steering wheel that will tell us where to go.
M: (in head- oh god) Are you sure you didn't see it on TV or a video game?
D: I'm sure.  There's a ferry boat there that we can see.
M: Is it by the waterfront?
D: Yes.

As it turns out, Justice Island is Ruston Way.  Who knew?  After I parked the car, Drake told me, "Good job, Mommy.  I knew you could do it." 

Thanks, honey.

BTW, it was really, really cold at Justice Island.  The wind was blowing, the water was really choppy, and knit caps don't keep the wind out of one's ears effectively.  But the boys had a good time.  Then Flynn split his lip and bled a bunch.  There is no justice on Justice Island.