There's A Midget In My Soup!

Every since I discovered that I CAN cook without tossing $50 worth of steaks in the garbage cause not even a knife would cut through them, the kids have found their love of the kitchen as well. Nia has been no exception.

It all started when I was pregnant with Nia and was bedridden for quite a long time with morning sickness combined with a nasty bout of pneumonia. Food Network was my choice of TV shows to zone out on for several weeks. What I learned in those weeks completely changed my life in the kitchen.

Because of it, I am left with four Sous Chef's who are determined to do exactly what I do, when I do it. It creates a hell of a lot of chaos in the kitchen sometimes. Yes, I HAVE tried alternating days they can help me; there is still borderline pandemonium at times as everyone wants to do what I am doing.

A lot of times, I just let the kids create on their own recipes, and experiment in the kitchen to instill that healthy dose of independence in each of them so that none of them come to me at the age of 35 and ask me to make them scrambled eggs in the morning cause they can't figure out how/where to crack the egg and if turbo-high is the setting they should put on the stove in order to cook them.

Plus I want them to know what is actually in the food they are putting in their mouths these days.

They all do pretty well in the cooking, baking, and cutting department. As I said previously; Nia is NO exception. I was making tacos last night and she was adamant that SHE dice the tomatoes. She knows what dicing is now at a ripe old age of four, and luckily, she knows the proper knife to use that will ensure all her fingers stay intact till she hits kindergarten next year,

No sudoku knives for this girl yet!

Well, lately, she has been getting into making her "culinary concoctions". She's been taking a few of the leftover scraps of veggies normally tossed out, and using them instead to make her own pretend soup.

Things escalated fast after a couple of days of this cause night before last, she took scraps, spices, beef broth, kosher salt, and the peppermill that she's addicted to these days. She also added some torn pieces of bread, more spices, and several star anise.

Mmmmm...... beefy licorice soup! Always wanted to try that.

Before I knew it, Nia had plopped that brew into a pot and sat it on the stove and, in true Nia style - put her hands to her hips and firmly said "Cook please."

"I" had now been demoted to Sous Chef in my own kitchen.

Well, Julian was left to clean the kitchen after dinner that night as Nia's "soup" simmered on the stove. After baths, brushing teeth, fighting over who got to play Poptropica on the computer, and begging everyone to get their things ready for school the next morning - the soup was........

for - got - ten.

Needless to say, it bubbled to a dry hump of ca-ca on my stove. Nia was in tears that her "creation" had been ruined by her brother cause he didn't watch it for her while he cleaned up. She promptly turned around with those hands on the hips again and screamed "YOUR FIRED JULIAN!", in true Trump style!

Well this morning, she decided to make a go of it again before I had to take her to Pre-K. She snagged a fresh pepper that had just been picked from our plant outside and began to cut it in bite sized pieces. The next thing I knew, she had pulled the chair to my spice cabinet (which is rather large and still growing), and proceeded to choose her flavors of the moment.

This was gonna be one spicy morning.

There was no star anise, but there was plenty of chili powder, onion powder, whole peppercorns, garlic, some celery seed, and half a bottle of white pepper thrown in that bowl; and less she not forget - Emeril's BAM spice! She decided midway that it needed to be a salad instead as she swiped a few pieces of lettuce off the cutting board that Julian had left after making himself a BLT for breakfast this morning. The leftover tomatoes went in as well.

After noticing that half my bottle of white pepper (which is not that cheap these days), disappeared in her mixing bowl, I had to put the brakes on. See, I value my spices because without them, most recipes taste like, well..... crap! They are my babies, and after watching Nadia and Julian dump $100 worth into a mixing bowl with some mud and water when they were three, I have vowed to watch over them more carefully; like behind lock and key if I could.

Luckily Nia didn't throw too big of a tantrum when I laid down the big "NO MORE!", on her flavorful nosh. She quickly switched into "TRY IT!", mode which I was highly resistant to do, but I finally succumb to because, after all, she's my cute little four year old with lot's of spunk!

Translation: Trying to avoid a major meltdown before school and I have to explain to her teachers why she looks as if she has been crying for a month because the top of her outfit is completely soaked with tears, and her eyes are red and swollen.

DOWN THE HATCH!!

My God! I thought someone had taken a torch to my lips, tongue and upper palette! Actually, the torch would have been much kinder than what I had just laid my mouth around. After tasting this, I was afraid that I would never again be able to enjoy the taste of anything other than "numb with a dash of bland" again. That hint of lemon she had thrown in hit at the last moment after everything else was burning down my throat taking esophageal tissue with it! Talk about insult to injury; like salt on a wound; like freaking glass in my eye!

"Mmmmmm Nia - this is SO YUMMY!", I proclaimed as tears streamed down my face.

"Mommy - are you crying?"

"Oh, I just got a gnat in my eye sweetie.". Cause we were sitting outside at this point cause the "fumes" of the spices were burning my nose, which should have been a damn hint NOT to try this.

"Do you LIKE IT!", she gleefully squeals as I take a second bite.

"Oh Nia, you can cook with me anytime since you did such a good job.", I say knowing that a part of me is lying through my spice encrusted, burning lips. I was just hoping she wouldn't notice that part of me.

After a glass (a BIG glass), of milk, a couple of capfuls of mouthwash in an attempt to cool the incessant fire in my own palate, it was time to take the midget chef to school.

As we were entering the school, Nia solicits in her own unique perky spirit; "Mom am I a good cook?"

"Sure Isaboo, you did a great job this morning!", I say with lips still singeing.

"Well, it's because I learned everything I know from you!", she sings back.

I'm gonna try to take that as a compliment at this point.

I think.

Obama Will Forever Be Immortalized as a Head of Alfalfa

After all is said and done, Obama will not be remembered just as the President who mounted sweeping changed in health care. Nor will he just be remembered as the President who pulled us out of two wars (well, maybe on that one). President Obama will forever be remembered by Americans, the world, and future historians as.....

Chia Obama!

"What the hell you talking about woman?", you may be asking.

Well, I was watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta for the first time last night on the Bravo station when this commercial came on. Frankly, I thought it was a pretty funny joke and was expecting characters, past and present, from Saturday NIght Live to come on any moment.

But there was no Tina Fey doing Sarah Palin, and no Dan Aykroyd doing Nixon, nor was there a Bush diddy by Will Ferrell. This was a serious commercial and after my hard core laughter sent my chicken noodle soup out my nose, I was left feeling a bit dumbfounded at what I had just watched.

Advertised in this commercial; and by the way, I am in NO WAY endorsing this product or anything like it (I just had to notify the FTC so that this post would not result in a $11,000 fine over a bloody Chia Head).

I just find it completely amazing that there are people in this country that would actually shell out $19.99 for this thing to show their.... well, whatever their trying to show by purchasing it .

Anyway, they advertise it as a special edition "collectors item" (yeah, right along with my collection of, uh, bread ties, and food stuffs that look like the Virgin Mary). They also say it is a symbol of Liberty, Opportunity, Prosperty, and Hope. Well, I say, if it can give us all that, what the hell do we need with the real Obama then?

Am I wrong or does this thing look absolutely nothing like President Obama?

It also tries to convince us that owning a Chia Obama makes the statement that "I'm proud to be an American."

BAWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

I didn't know that owning a Chia Pet was a requirement for being a proud American. But I've been wrong before. They also tell you to display it at your office, home, or school. Do you know what my family would do if I brought home a clay head that grew alfalfa grass out the top and told them I was proudly displaying the President of the United States on my desk.

Yeah, that's right, remember that hot pink straight jacket I said they were gonna get for me one day. Well, that would be the day right there folks. Carting me off as I still hold this green headed funky dude and calling it Obama.

I wonder if President Obama has seen this thing yet? Do you think he's holding his head in his hands while hiding in the closet from this thing, or did Michelle have to have him carted off to the hospital to be sedated cause he was laughing his ass off so hard that he just couldn't stop.

I would opt for the latter - it would be far more explainable and understandable to the press.

Do you think that the world officially thinks us as nuts if they see this thing being advertised, much less bought by anyone in this country?

And was Bush ever humiliated in this manner? I don't ever remember a Chia Bush! But then, advertising that might have been mistaken as a pornographic gesture and there would have been hell to pay, and Cheney would have declared the makers of Chia Pets national terrorists or something.

So now Obama's legacy will now include being immortalized as a head of alfalfa on somebody's desk(s) somewhere in this country. When his Presidency is long, long gone, he will still live on as some people in this country will faithfully continue to smear seeds on his tiny clay head in the hopes that Liberty, Opportunity, Prosperty, and Hope return if they pat the little sprouts when the grow.

For that, we may need a Chia Miracle.

I Am SUCH a Neurotic Ninny!

So my son goes into the ER tonight because I, the neurotic ninny, think he is dying of some exotic disease from Pluto because his neck is so swollen that he resembles more of an elephants leg than the bocci ball I gave birth to 12 years ago.

I imagine after pouring through endless sites on the net, that he has the mumps, diphtheria, or worse - the dreaded "C" word. I cannot find anything to explain the increased swelling and pain my son has had for two days. Not to mention that Toni and Nia had the same bout with it just a few weeks earlier.

After going round and round about it with the hubs, he and Julian head for the ER about 6 p.m. I sit at home with the girls and play cards, surf the web, communicating with a few family members and friends, argue on Facebook about whether organic meat or conventional meat will kill you faster, and so on.

I even found time to pack some dinner for the boys and take it over to the ER for them cause it's a Friday night and everyone (I'm experienced in this now), knows that they are slammed on Fridays cause that's the only time people apparently get sick or in accidents.

Around 11 p.m., the boys finally get home. Anxious to hear what my son has been diagnosed with, I am met instead with the two of them just staring at me and laughing.

Come to find out, all my son has been stricken with is a life-altering, possibly life-threatening CRICK IN THE NECK.

Translation: he slept on it the wrong way.

So in our house, we are passing around Crickus In-us the Neckus to one another at the moment. If you see one of us on the streets with thick necks and a strange contorted face, you will know one of us has been afflicted with this malady. I don't think it's contagious, but I know from personal experience that it can lead to Stupiditis NoBrainus.

So if anyone out there is passing out a "Neurotic Ninny" award this year, I would like to nominate myself at this time. Because my saying I feel rather stupid about this whole event just doesn't cut the cheese.

A Little Bit of Rambling on a Rainy Day

Let's see, what' happening in our life today? Well, we woke up to it raining cats, dogs, a few frogs with some ducks thrown in this morning. For some reason, the rain made it impossible for the bus drivers to run their routes because all my kids were left out in the rain as not a one of them showed up.

I made two early morning trips to the schools where both of them left so completely drenched from my dash from the garage to the car that I had to completely change my clothes after returning both times.

Nothing like squishy Ugg's. Well at least their washed!

I had to be extra quiet while opening drawers and making a quick change, cause the hubs didn't return home last night till about 2 in the morning, and he had had so much coffee on the way home that he never went to bed till about 4 a.m.

Boy, was HE a joy to see wake up this morning!

Then it was time to take the 4 year old midget to Pre-K. She was up at 6:30 this morning but thought it a better idea to wait till 15 minutes before leaving for school to get herself ready.

I do not ever recommend rushing a four year old to school on a rainy, dreary morning. It's kinda like a Monday, but it's on a Friday and it's all wet and mushy, and all she wants to do is mildew in front of the TV and watch Oswald which I swear is just a bunch of gay characters disguised as a kids cartoon.

Why else would a big blue octopus name their dog "Weinee"? But we can discuss that at a later date and I know I have supporters on this issue.

I get her to school and she's like giving me her 99 hugs before I go when suddenly I realize (and I feel like I repeating another one of my blog posts here):

SHE'S NOT WEARING UNDERWEAR and SHE'S WEARING A SKIRT!!!

This is not the first time she has gone into public forget to don her most important wardrobe accessory, but why did it have to be at school? I mean, grabbing a package of Ariel size 4 bikinis and slipping them on while hiding from the public in a clothes rack in Wal-Mart's is one thing, but to do this in front of your whole stinking class and the boy you just announced you're gonna marry (that story coming soon), is a completely different matter.

Once Nia realizes that I realize that SHE'S is a complete naked ninny under that skirt, she won't let me go. She keeps whispering "shh, shh, shh", in my ear as if THAT'S gonna make the whole issue go away. I'm not saying anything so why is she telling me to "shhhh!"?!

I keep whispering to her that no one knows except her and I; which is a complete lie because her teacher is standing on top of us and she has just given me the "Oh my gosh, your daughter isn't wearing any underwear under her skirt look", and I'm trying to shield my daughter from seeing that particular look on her teacher's face cause it's one of those where the nose contorts to meet the hairline, and it ain't pretty!

Quickly I look up and say "We'll be right back!" Nia and head quickly back to the car, get in, and back home. For some reason, her ability to walk has now been hampered by the fact that I know she isn't wearing underwear. The damn kid is walking as if someone just superglued her legs from the knees up. Kinda like a penguin gait in a pink and green polka dotted ensemble going on here.

Needless to say, we're getting all kinds of weird mommy looks on the way out as if my child has just broken out in a purple rash or something, and they don't want their children exposed. They walk towards us, look at me, look at Nia, then suddenly increase their distance and walk around us as oppose to by us.

I wonder what those stinking church ladies will have to say about this now!

After managing to get in the car, the whole way home she is reciting to me which one(s) of her underwear she would prefer me to pick out. Like I'm gonna choose. Hell no! I'm gonna grab the first pair I find in the laundry basket of clothes that are waiting at home for me to fold anyway. Hopefully it won't be the hubs cause THAT could be kinda even more embarrassing!

Luckily, it's Ariel again. She never argues about Ariel underwear, and if it was so doggone special for her to wear anyway then why weren't they planted on her butt this morning before we went to school?

Then I grabbed her extra change of clothes for school that were SUPPOSE to be there anyway, but Nia brought them back home thinking they WEREN'T suppose to be there anyway.

Back to school with her we go, and after a quick kiss good-bye, you would have never known anything had happened cause she was off skipping to her Benjamin - the boy she's suppose to be marrying.

So it's just another normal day around here as the sun finally peeks out from behind the clouds in order to dry the small rivers near my driveway.

Now, would you like to come over, have a cup of coffee and help me clean up the WHOLE bottle of silver glitter Nia just happen to pour all over her bedroom AND the hallway just so it could be SPARKILY!?

The High Cost of Getting an "A"

Toni has a science project due this week. They've been studying the solar system so, well, that's what her project has to be about... duh! After hemming and hawing over what she wanted to do for like.... 2 weeks, she came to the exciting conclusion that she wants to make a comet smashing into Jupiter.

I thought we could make a simple model of planets in orbit, but that was waaaay too boring for her. She's a bit like her brother in the smash 'em up department, and if she could get by with blowing a planet up in her classroom; well, that would make her year at school.

After brainstorming some design ideas we decide to hit Wal-Marts at 7:00 p.m., because after all, it HAS to be done at the last minute. That's how my kids do everything right now; at the last possible freaking minute so as to have me running around and losing the last few hairs left on my head and completely freaking out that my kid is gonna get an "F" in this thing.

Our list was simple:

1/2 of a small styrofoam ball

1 medium sized styrofoam ball

1 package of glittery pipe cleaners (they now call fuzzy sticks ?????)

1 can of flat black paint

1 small container of spray on glitter (cause we gotta have sparkly stars in the background)

1 small package of crushed shells (cause we have to make the comet look like a dirty snowball, cause that's what it looks like, right?)

1 pair of pajamas - Doh! That's not part of the project, but Toni need a warmer pair so it was added to the list, but won't be glued to the project - hopefully.

I get to the register and the the whole pile of junk rings up to $32.38! What the hell did I just spend $32.38 on??? The pajamas were only $7.00, so that didn't really make a big difference. So I just paid $25 some odd dollars on a project so that my daughter can get an "A" on her science project.

Why do I feel like both my daughter and I are getting scammed here by both the school system and Wal-mart's? Are they in cahoots with one another?

"Good morning Wal-Marts, this is Ms. So-In-So at Gulf Breeze Elementary."

"Yes, good to talk to you to again sir."

"Listen, we have another science project coming up for our third graders that I want to let you in on."

"Yeah, it's a doozy so there will be LOT"S of items you can mark up a few cents on this one."

"Yes, I'm sure it WILL make your Arkansas headquarters happy to hear about this, that's why we like to keep you informed of such events like these."

"Yeah, good project I have here - it's about the Solar System. The WHOLE Solar System!"

"What is that? Oh yes sir, it will cover BOTH the craft departments and the kids science kits cause I'm sure there will be plenty of parents that won't want to make anything from scratch and will prefer those cheap boxed kits instead."

"No, no, no - I don't expect that you will keep them cheap under these circumstances. It's too good of a project!"

"Oh yes sir, it WILL be a perfect time for parents to do some spontaneous shopping with Halloween and all. I've got these kids all wigged out over this project. They'll be screaming for mommy and daddy to buy everything in sight in order to get one of my 'A's'!"

"Now, do I still get that special discount for letting you know about this?"

"Oh thank you sir, and please give my regards to Arkansas."

"Buh, Bye!"

"Huh - what's that? Oh, oh yeah - Go Dolphins!"

This is the only way I can explain how a ten dollar project costs me over $30 in order for my 8 year old child to pass the project and my not receive a massive letter campaign from the teacher and the school for not participating.

My parenting and my financial common sense brain cell tells me that I think Wal-Mart could have made a "school project" campaign that rivals the "school supplies" campaign back in August.

"At Wal-Mart's, we've marked your favorite items down so that no school project cost more that $10."

"Save Money - Live Better "

"We Won't Leave You Filing For Bankruptcy After Your Child's School Projects."

Now THAT'S a slogan I can live with!

To add insult to injury, I still have a kid at home who is completely stressed out about whether her project will "look" good enough against all the others as if it is unacceptable unless it says "Juicy" on the back tail of the comet as it's swirling towards a day-glo orange Jupiter!

When did peer pressure get passed on to science projects? Have I missed something in the 10-20-whatever years it's been since I was in high school?

Anyway, on top of all the filler school supplies at the beginning of school like, copy paper, paper towels, hand sanitizer, the janitors first month wages; I also have to dig deep in my bare pockets for all those required science projects so my kids an pass onto the next grade without severe black marks against their permanent school records.

At this rate, I think private school might have been cheaper after all.

Nia and Boredom - Always an Interesting Mix

It's been a relatively quiet day around here. Nia had the day off from school which usually means......... she's gonna get into something. Well, that something just turned out to be me.

I tried talking to my mom for a few minutes (hours), on the phone this afternoon, but Nia thought it best to run out of the house and attempt to lock herself in our bagel barge sitting in the driveway. It was by shear luck that I caught her before the door slammed on my fingers, but at least I saved myself from calling 911 because the hubs has the keys to said bagel barge and he went out of town this morning.

I finally decided (was forced) to hang up with my mom and hang out with Nia before the rest of my tribe started arriving home from school. When Nia gets bored, things get a little interesting around here.

Translation: the child is into everything!

She won't play outside right now because it's quiet windy, and every since the hubs mentioned something about Chinese Medicine saying that the wind is a carrier of a thousand diseases, the whole "Play outside cause I said so!", discussion is completely a mute point around here. The kids all think they're gonna get Eboli or something when it's windy!

By the time I got Nia in the house from the whole car episode, she was quite furious with me. The child was actually trying to bite me through my Uggs.

Can you say regression?

Once she snapped out of the quick but intense tantrum, it was on a heightened state of creativity.

Talk about bouncing from one extreme to the other!

But her medium of choice just happened to be me and a tape dispenser. Is there a reason for this? I don't think so other than the fact that... she CAN. So there I sat as she carefully pulled each piece off the dispenser, cut it with her little scissors cause she has yet to figure out how to tear it off without pulling the entire piece of tape OUT of the dispenser. She attaches each piece about my head, neck and arms in a most delicately manner cause instinctively she knows how much I'm gonna bloody scream when it comes that time to rip it of my pre-geriatric skin!

I should be so thankful!

I think I may have mention to a few of you before about the God-awful haircut I received a couple of weeks ago. It seems that whenever I try to do short, the "stylist" translates that into "Do the crappiest job you can do on my hair!" Again I am left with a haircut that makes me walk in public with a paper bag on my head.

Somehow, Nia thinks I need more off than I had shaved off in the first place. I think she is standing behind me ready to cut another piece of tape off that dispenser when suddenly I start hearing a strange, yet familiar kind of snipping noise.

Brain cells in my head start lighting up like fireworks when I realize the midget is CUTTING MY HAIR!! Between my hair falling out lately due to an un-Godly amount of stress in my life (long story - will discuss at a future date after my next doctor's appointment), this shitty haircut, AND Nia takes a few more inches off here and there - I am due to be bald about Christmas time.

Anyone have a wig shop they can recommend to me at this point in time so that I can add something long and fashionable to my very short Santa list? I better start coloring that paper bag red and green and adding a few dangly decorations on it for the upcoming season - looks like I'm gonna need it.

So when Nia gets bored around here, it's a parenting challenge sometimes. She's still taping her world up, but luckily without me since she cringed at the screams I let out as she ripped the tape from every place from my chest up. Yes, she took a few more hairs with her as a result, but at least I don't have to use an apricot scrub on my face tonight as she already removed a bunch of those pesky dead skin cells from my outer epidermic layer.

God help the cat if she goes after him!

Costume Shopping - It IS The Stuff That Halloween Nightmares Are Made Of.

Can someone please explain to me why Halloween costume shopping has turned into such a bloody nightmare.

And no, I do not mean that as a pun!

I swear, going to Party City during this time of year is like hitting the basement sale at Filene's Department Store. It's enough to make me become a member of one of those religions that forbid the mere mention of Halloween in their households.

It's starts right after you enter the store and bump your way through the 1000 or so people that have already raced to the store before you. Once you're at the back of the store, it becomes complete mayhem as one stares at the never-ending selection of Future Sluts of American costumes for my daughters, and Future Serial Killer's Anonymous for my son.

I don't quite remember any of these clubs being available when I was in high school.

Once you've made your selection, then it's time to head for the line that has now wrapped itself back at the front door of people waiting to give that ONE salesclerk a number so that ONE salesperson can check a HUGE stockroom room for your costumes ALL BY HERSELF.

During these economic times and the fact that unemployment is reaching 10 percent (actually 25% if you are able to read between the lines of most news articles), I think it would be a good idea if Party City hired just a few extra people on Halloween to handle the ga-zillions of people that seem to want to go on the exact same day as we do.

Just a SUGGESTION!

It would eliminate the mob mentality that generates when each and every mother is not able to purchase that costume that each and every child is having a hair-raising, lay-on-the-floor, screaming so China can hear them, tantrum over.

It would also eliminate my need for grabbing my meds for that next migraine that is gonna happen as a result of said tantrums going off beside each ear of mine. This is the time when I dig deep into my bag of parenting skills and I get the kids into Zen mode before approaching this scene.

I ask them all to close their eyes, breath deep, ask them to remember to slow down and be calm, think happy thoughts, and remember that if mom gets a migraine, there is no Halloween for them this year.

Cause after 17 years of knowing that man I married, he still wants nothing to do with participating in holidays of any kind unless forced with a hot cattle prod. Unfortunately, the cattle prod disappeared this year and I have no leverage over him. God only knows what I'm gonna do at Christmas this year without that thing.

After waiting, like.... another ga-zillion years it feels like, it's our turn to give that ONE salesclerk the numbers to the costumes the kids want to try on. But no, it's not that easy. It seems that there is this group that have forgotten all about the "don't-break-the-line" rules that everyone learned in kindergarten except THEM, and they think it's a really good idea to just walk up to the salesclerk in the middle of my rattling out the "call numbers" for the costumes, and ask if they could exchange sizes - for FIVE OTHER COSTUMES they have been trying on.

"No. You need to wait until I can assist you.", would have been the appropriate response I thought. But the salesclerk instead tells ME to wait while SHE disappears into that ominous looking stockroom to get THEIR costumes.

I think my four year old midget hit the nail on the head when she looked up at one of the women requesting the change of sizes and loudly, yet firmly said with hands to her hips:

"Hey, it was OUR turn you Big Dummy!".

I shouldn't have been, but I was proud. Oh, not about the dummy part, but the fact that at her little stature and age, she was observant enough about the situation to speak her opinion about it; and damn she did!

This when I turned to the kids and asked them, "Do we really need these expensive costumes and all this hassle this year?" As I watched each of them turn to one another, then around to look at the encroaching mass closing in, I was even more prouder when Nadia said, "Nah! This isn't worth it.", as they all shook their little heads in agreement.

As we turned and were walking toward the store exit (as Nia is begging one more time for the extra large bag of Halloween candy), Julian and Nadia both asked if we could hit the thrift store near our house that had all those "cool" clothes from the 60's and 70's. We had been there a few times before and my just-turned-12 twins had produced a brilliant idea from their emerging maturity. But I'm still half dragging Nia out of the store and away from that gigantic bag of candy.

Who the hell gives out that much candy anyway?

After watching my kids in that thrift store, I think I'm gonna promote the twins to entertainment coordinators because they were going through and picking out the coolest costumes for themselves and their younger siblings, and they had to try on everything. But not before I spray the wigs and hats down with a quick hidden spray of disinfectant, because once you've experienced lice in your household, no hat or wig is ever safe again. Am I THAT paranoid - oh yes I am!

Instead of shucking nearly $100 at Party City, we satisfied a party of four for just under $10. I didn't mind that they didn't come wrapped in a shiny plastic liner with some idiot on the front posing in the "must have" costume of the year. The kids all taught themselves a lesson this year that, for once, I didn't really have to get involved in with one of those long-winded parental lectures about saving money during an economic catastrophe. Observing animals pretending to be human beings is a great motivator for children to grasp the meaning of common sense.

I am now the proud parent of one John Lennon look-a-like, one vampiress with purple hair, one renaissance princess, and one goth "blood queen" (what-EVER the hell THAT is), and they did without breaking the bank this year. I'm recycling my renaissance costume from last year an the hubs wearing the same thing he did last year too:

jeans, t-shirt, and his New Balance tennis shoes

Hooooow original.

As for that man I married, he just sat in the chair, played with his iPhone as we piled our coats, purses, and our costumes galore upon his lap. He is turning out to be of some use after all this Halloween season.

Nia's First Night at the Fireplace - A Bedtime Story..... Well, Sorta.

So as we're getting ready to crank up the fireplace since getting fixed this past summer, I was imagining what I'm going to be going through with my four year old as she experiences her first indoor fire in her whole little existence on this planet thus far. It's probably gonna go something like this:

"Yes Nia, daddy is starting a fire tonight."

"Yes honey he does know what he's doing."

"Uh.. no, there's no need to call the fire department, and yes we are allowed to make a fire in the house. As long as it's in the fireplace."

"No honey, daddy can't make one in your room; only in the living room."

"Uh no Nia, daddy already cut firewood, you don't need to put mommy's fake tree in there."

Now the fire is roaring and we're sitting all around basking in it's warmth on one of those few really blistery days down here in Florida, so the scene continues like this:

"Uh Nia, you need to stay away from the screen."

"No Nia! You don't need to get IN the fire, just sit here with the rest of us."

"No Nia, don't mess with the screen. Nia... Nia... put the screen back. No it doesn't HAVE to go in a zig zag direction. No, you don't need to lay it down because it's NOT blocking the heat."

"No Nia, you don't need to put paper in the fireplace. Daddy already did that. No Nia, don't get the copy paper. We need that for the copier. Don't... sto... no....!"

"Nia, do NOT put the Barbie doll in the fireplace!"

"Yes honey, her hair does look like someone cut it with a lawnmower, but she can't go in the fireplace."

"NIA DON'T PUT THE CAT IN THE FIREPLACE!! He's already warm, that's why he has fur!"

"Nia... Nia... no Nia; you can't lay down right in front of the fire; and leave the fire tools alone. They are NOT ninja gear!"

"That's okay Nia, it was an old DVD disc anyway. Yes honey, it DOES make pretty colors as it melts around the firewood. Yes Nia, I DO see the black smoke coming out."

"Nia, you do not need to fan the smoke with the pillow. OH, that was an old pillow too. Just stand back and daddy will take care of it."

"OH MAN THAT I MARRIED!! Nia tossed a pillow into the fireplace and I need your help!"

"Yes Nia, the pillow makes a lot of smoke too."

"Uh, Nia, why do you have all those leaves?"

"Nia, DON'T put the leaves in the....."

"Yes honey, daddy is putting the fire out."

"Why? Uh, cause it's warm enough in here, that's why."

"Yes honey, I know he's throwing in a bucket of water."

"Nia, it's time for bed honey."

"Uh Nia, why are you dragging you blanket and pillow in here?"

"No, you are not sleeping beside the fireplace."

"No Nia, the fireplace does not get scared at night."

"No Nia,. the fireplace does not have nightmares after you put it out."

"Nia, Nia please put the poker down. No you cannot dig in the house with the fireplace shovel."

"NIa... Nia.... time for bed Nia. Let's go put you to bed now."

"Uh what's that Nia?"

"Yes, daddy did get wet putting the fire out, and yes he is yelling quite a lot right now."

"What? Was that a bad word daddy said? Oh no honey, daddy is just repeating the Chinese words he learned on his computer tonight."

"Yes it does rhyme with bit. Very good honey, now let's get into bed."

"Good night sweetie - I love you too! "

"What is that?"

"Make another fire tomorrow?!"

"Let's just see if mommy can clean all the soot off the floor and ceiling tomorrow, okay sweetie?"

I'm Implicating Myself in a Jailbreak!

I have wasted the better part/the whole day trying to jailbreak the hubs iPhone. I figure who else to try it out first, break it, and then learn from the mistakes made. At least my phone would still be working so that I could still receive the many important phone calls from my children's friends, teacher's complaining of missing homework assignments, the hubs frantic calls for directions because he both forgotten about the onboard GPS in the Odyssey or his own GPS on his own iPhone.

Maybe I should jailbreak/break my own iPhone instead.

I decided to use my old G4 PowerMac to download all the applications and software needed so that if anyone of them were written to completely blow up a computer upon opening, at least my current iMac would not be affected, or infected, and I could just shell out a few hundred to pop another hard drive in the "Old Betty" Mac.

Better safe than sorry I say.

But it's taking freaking forever because it has the old 2000 Intel processor in it and not the zippy-doo-daa-day dual core processor. I mean it is taking forever. What should have lasted about 15 minutes to build a IPSW file to load onto his 3G phone, has now taken about 2 hours. Either the computer is in a state of serious old age, or I have to stop and redo this whole process again.

So at the rate I'm going on this thing, I will be attending college graduation for my four year old before I get his phone jailbroken.

With all this trouble and so many people purposely/illegall unlocking and jailbreaking their iPhone's, you'd think that Apple would sit up and take notice that NO ONE likes the idea of AT&T cornering the market on being the only carrier for iPhone.

I don't know about anyone else lately, but my iPhone has been almost useless for the past few months as I am constantly getting dropped calls, or worse yet, not getting them at all! My voice mails arrive 1-2 days AFTER they've been left, and my phone bill has been elevating to the point that it almost rivaling my house payment each month.

Life is getting pretty crappy when it costs as much to talk on your phone as it does to live in your house!

I am now stuck in getting into DFU mode - which apparently means Deliberately Fostering an Ulcer, which is definitely what I am getting since starting this project at 9 a.m., this morning! It's taken two hours to "build" the IPSW file, and now will take the rest of the day to get into DFU mode, not to mention all the research that has gone into making sure I get this right.

After about a half an hour of pushing power AND home for 10 seconds, then releasing power and hold home for 10 seconds, AND doing it at the exact precise moment, I'm finally in! This took several, and I mean several tries to do this. I now have developed both a crick in my thumb and left shoulder from doing so.

I think at this point it would have been a lot easier and stress-free if I had just shelled out the $29.99 for software to do this with. But I'm saving money in this economically strapped society we now live in, so even THAT'S too much!

I am now waiting for the phone to restore from the new jailbroken firmware I downloaded this morning and that should take, well, who freaking knows at this point! All I want to know is if this iPhone is gonna still be working when the hubs gets back from his bike ride.

Yeah, that's right! He took the time to go out for a leisurely little ride on the bike and leave ME at home jailbreaking and potentially ruining a $700 piece of ear candy. But if I am successful, he will go take the kids out for a walk while I unlock the phone (the next step in this whole fun process), and by tonight I shall be a candidate for a pretty white straight jacket cause it's all making me a nervous wreck thinking I might just tank a very expensive phone.

It's now "Verifying iPhone Restore", and I have just bitten five of my nails off in the process.

Oooh, there went another nail!

Now it's "Restoring iPhone Firmware", and I'm onto the other hand of nails for this one cause I'm just expecting that the computer is gonna start smoking and the iPhone is suddenly gonna explode and fly out the office window!

Can you bite off toenails? Okay, no, not a good idea; that was a little gross I think.

Somewhere, Steve Jobs is monitoring this post and saying:

"If a dumb, blonde broad from the Redneck Riviera of Florida can jailbreak and unlock this powerhouse of a phone, then it's back to the drawing board for all of us, we're firing At&T as the main carrier (thank God!), and start hiring some of those Russian hackers to make us a system that no one can crack! Does anyone know if anyone of them speak Mac?"

I think I just may be doing millions of iPhone user's a terrible injustice now.

After a few tense moments of getting the phone to reboot, iTunes not recognizing it at first, but then rebooting and restarting iTunes, I think it worked!

"It's Alive! It's ALIVE!!"

Thank you God in heaven that I didn't screw this leg of the tour up.... yet. I still have to unlock the phone.

"Is this all worth it?", you say. Well, what would you resort to if you got $555 phone bill!

Well, it seems his phone is work, but, but, where are all those apps he bought, and his photos, his email contacts, and his phone contacts?

Uh oooooh...........

Congrats to Gulf Breeze Middle School Robotics Team - But Where Was The Support From The School??

Gulf Breeze Middle School 2009-10 Robotics Team

I want to start out by congratulating my son, his nine other teammates, and their teacher Mr. Fearon, for advancing to the semi-finals of the Robotics Competition here in Pensacola, FL. I am immensely happy and proud of my son and all his teammates for this. They were never expected to get this far.

"Big Deal!", you may say, but the point is, since budget cuts in our middle school forced it to end the Science Olympiad program, the Robotics Program replaced it and this the first time/first year that this middle school has ever competed.

The kids are given a rag tag group of parts which include pieces of PVC pipe, some wood, and some electronics to put together to make the "brain" of the robot, and to make the servo(s) to move the robot around via a radio control console. It is designed to pick objects up, move objects around, and gather objects into their area and are judged based on effectiveness of supplies used and ability to gather these objects effortlessly.

If you had seen them last week, you would have thought they didn't have a chance. But what a week makes in the areas of revamping and redesign, and some major determination by a group of boys. They knocked it out of the ballpark by being one of the four teams chosen to advance to the semi-finals out of 21 other schools competing today.

Telling them "good job", just doesn't cut here. They were the underdogs of the underdogs and those boys proved themselves WITHOUT the support of anyone but themselves.

"Huh? What does that mean?", one of might be asking if you are still reading this because it contains plain old boring science that most people don't care about unless your fighting for your survival after just moving your whole family here from a third world country, or you're one of those who already been labeled a "geek" by your peers of whatever age.

My son's school offered less than admirable support for these kids who diligently met twice a week for several weeks trying to build the brain and the robot, while not breaking strict rules of design in the process. When Friday came, a small - less than enthusiastic - announcement was made over the middle school loudspeaker:

"Please be sure to **yawn** join the Robotics Team **yawn** on Saturday for the Robotics Competions at UWF **yawn, yawn**. It starts at 8:30 in the morning."

And I am sure the announcement was met with a lot of comments like, "BOR-ing", and "I'm gonna be sleeping at that time", or "I've got a football game instead."

I was unable to attend because I got hit in the middle of the night with one of my bad-timing migraines. I licked the headache, but the meds had been dragging my head around the house in a cardboard box, so driving was completely out of the question for me. So the hubs "volunteered" himself, which really wasn't volunteering he did, but rather him being under the gun from my threats that he was sleeping in his car for the next week if he didn't take our son and show roaring support for all the time, energy, and enthusiasm he had put into this thing.

There should have been a few more out there like me when it came to generating ANY support from Gulf Breeze Middle School. See, no one from the school except some kid dressed in a tacky dolphin costume showed up to support these kids who ranged from 6th to 8th grade.

I know, I know, it *looks* like a shark, but it IS a dolphin

As my son and hubs told me, there were bleachers set up for those who came out to support their school. Gulf Breeze Middle School's bleachers were completely EMPTY while the other 21 schools came complete with mascots, cheerleaders, band members, and PLENTY of parental and other adult support to fill their bleachers.

Gulf Breeze Middle Schools support was reduced to a couple of parents (the hubs included), those 10 teammates and their teacher, and...

the kid in the tacky dolphin costume.

OH, and the OTHER'S schools support supplied THEIR team with plenty of water and snacks to fortified their little brain cells pumping out as much mental energy as possible for a competition that lasted from 8 in the morning to 5 p.m. Other teams support were even handing out "souvenirs" in support of their teams in the forms of small banners, buttons, pens, balloons filled with sand, etc.

Our team had nothing.... nada... not jack s***! Just a few boys, their parts, and their own handmade spirit... plus a few parents who DIDN'T get sidelined by a stupid migraine.

These schools had cheerleaders and rows of tubas playing Ozzie Osbourne tunes and "We Will Rock You", as my son as his team stood and watched their rows of empty bleachers, and a half-witted mother of one of them run around freaking out how her printer blew up and "burned" the logo that my son spent three days designing for the t-shirts that never were made.

Did I mention that the other schools had professional t-shirts or uniforms made for their competition? No, well I just thought I might mention that in case the PRINCIPAL of our middle school wanted to know.

But the moral of this whole story is exactly what I told my son this evening after he told me one of the other teams offered him a Dum-Dum after seeing they nothing in the form of snacks to eat, at around 1:00; in which my son just happened to cut his tongue after licking it, which signal to him a bad omen so he threw it away.

I told him that succeeding doesn't always include people in your corner cheering you on and laying offerings and gifts at your feet as you proceed. Sometimes it is through adversity and hardwork that you only succeed. No one might have been there for you, but all of you were there for each other and not one of you gave up on the possibilty of winning. Stuff like that isn't given to you; you either have or you don't, and in this case all of them had it and not one of them let it go. That is not easy to do when you're the only one without a fan club cheering you on.

It seemed like the middle school just didn't have an "interest" in what these kids were doing; that it was just another filler program for "some" kids to get involved in - nothing more. But there is something more; the fact that these kids turned a first year program into something for themselves. But I guarantee you that the school will turn around and make into something that the school did in order to look good for their community here.

I want to make it clear that there was little to no support for these kids from their own school, it's administration, it's own PTA, and it's peers. What they did was a direct result of the heart and soul that each child put into that robot, and one amazing teacher in Mr. Casey Fearon who fostered each of their imaginations and assisted their drive to do their best.

I am prouder of my son and these kids because with everything going against them; inexperience, intimidation, lack of support, etc., they still rose to the occasion and believed in what they did and in one another.

I for one am having my son remake his logo and I will be making and purchasing the shirts out of my own pocket money. If any other GBMS administrator, parent, or PTA member is reading this, I suggest you ask Mr. Fearon how you may contribute as well.

It may not be a stinking Dolphins football game under the bright lights of a stadium every Friday night, but these boys are our future and deserve just as much money, time, support, and respect as the shining linebacker or quarterback of that said football team.

So how about it Mr. Richard Cobb, Principal of Gulf Breeze Middle School? Do you think you could spare a little time, a few cheerleaders, a couple of band members, and maybe make one of those special mass phone calls to each parent and generate a little more support for these kids when they hit the semi-finals in two weeks?

Feel free to email this guy or his administration to help generate some support for these kids, and you don't have to be just a "geek" to do so. I'll be contacting our local newspaper to generate a little support of my own come Monday morning.

Go Dolphins! - Robot Style!!

My Church Sucks..... THERE, I said it!

I have issues with the church I've been going to now for a year. I know I live in the South and clicks are part of the cultural norm around here, but can't some of these women grow up, get a life, and get out of high school already???

A few weeks I went on a skating trip with the 6-8 grade youth group. I was excited cause it was an 80's theme, and I just think 80's music is 2nd in line only to 60's music; the only two era's really worth listening to when it comes to pop/rock.

Anyway... getting off the subject again.

Now by the time I get through with this post, I will have both the Southern Baptist and the Southern Methodist organizations writing big bad articles about me and my blog and hooooow I'm full of Satan and hoooooow I'm leading millions to hell just by writing this post.

Fuck em!

I'm angry, and I'm angry that I made myself feel so terribly rotten for two weeks over their behavior, and if that's a "sin", then well.... WHO CARES!

I took Nadia on the skating trip because Julian decided he wanted to be the first one to get the flu in our house and sit this exciting trip out at home coughing his brains and lungs out all over his pillow.

I left him in bed with tears accompanying his brains and lungs on that pillow. My heart broke for the boy. That should have been my first clue not to go on this little trip.

Neither Nadia nor I dressed the 80's theme like we were "suppose" to because she has this thing about "embarrassing" herself in public by dressing like her mother did when I was.... well, when I did dress like that in the 80's.

So we donned jeans and a t-shirt, and the closest thing I got to dressing like the 80's were my neon pink Converse high-tops that I BOUGHT in the 80's!

I should have taken my secone clue when we got to the church, signed in, and paid, and not one damn parent there would have more than a 2 second conversation with me.

I just took as everyone was busy, but I started feeling that same gnawing feeling I did when I attended church regularly at a Baptist church in North Carolina some 14 centuries ago. But this was a Methodist; no way they could have the same clicks as a Baptist church did.

Nope... Wrong... Think Again... I am living in the South. There are ALWAYS clicks in the South no matter WHAT church/synagogue you go to!

Okay, here come all the hard core Southerners out to kick my ass for this post.

Hey, I grew up in the South, so I can knock it all I want because I'm not an "Outsider". I so freaking hate that word!

When it came to getting on the bus for this great big jaunt, all the other parents were being led to their vehicle of choice by the happy-go-luck "30/40-something church ladies". I kept asking "Should I get on the bus, or should I ride in the van with the OTHER parents?" I kept getting ignored. I kept asking and someone finally asked me if I was going and needed a ride just as the bus was pulling off.

????????????????

I put that aside and try to make small talk with the other parents in the van I was put in. Other than a forced response to my response, no one would talk to me! I felt like the leper that no one wanted to be around.

I just took as the "newness effect". It would wear off once we all got to the rink and skated together.

Think again sister!

The female clicks were just as strong and "in your face" in the Methodist environment as it was years ago in that Baptist environment.

Those stinking women would not say one damn word to me unless it was a forced issue; like when I asked a question or tried to start "small talk". I worked every angle; humor, pain when falling, compliment on 80's costume, compliment on one's hair, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!

I was still the leper though.

I am not an extrovert, just ask anyone in my family, so me being shy is not the issue. But I'm not overly in your face unless it's the hubs refusal to clean out his 5 o'clock shadow he just shaved off in the sink and never rinses out!

This went on for some time and I kept trying to make some kind of contact with the "church ladies", then my rollerblade strap broke. I gave up skating for the night and sat down on the bench directly next to the anti-leper colony of church ladies. They sat in a little huddle and talked, occasionally skated, occasionally "glanced" my way, but NEVER said a word to me unless I purposely leaned over and made another complement or gesture toward their way.

What was the problem here?

Did I offend them by not dressing up in 80's attire?

Were my neon pink high tops too over the top with my black skinny leg jeans?

Was my new hair cut so offensive that they just couldn't deal with it?

What the heck was the deal with these women???

I finally gave up and sat for the last hour with a stupid grin on my face trying to hide my hurt and anger from these "church ladies".

Where was Nadia in all this? Well, I tried skating with her for awhile, but just like all budding pre-teens, she didn't need her mother "hovering" over her ability to handle roller skates. I was left to skate pretty much by myself as my daughter maneuvered her way around the wall of the rink with one of her friends.

I was so hurt and so pissed that when I got home, I through my rollerblades in the garbage an vowed never to skate again. "Why after being at this church for over a year, they still treated me as though I was a pod person from Pluto?", I though I as lugged the garbage an lid up and hoisted the skates over and in.

Yes, their gone - the trash people picked them up early the next morning and they are left forever lonely, in a landfill somewhere, after my long 12 year relationship with them came to an end because of snobby church ladies.

Okay.... so I was having a ten year old tantrum moment. I live with 4 kids - they rub off on me sometimes!

The real problem is HOW I let these snobby little church ladies affect ME. For the next two days, I literally hid in my bathroom sobbing because I felt so reject by my church, my peers, my faith in the fact that a church is suppose to be a place where one can find sanctuary when the world is so crazy around us.

Instead, I found the church cheerleading team picking and choosing who was cool and who was not; who they were gonna "associate" themselves with and who they were not.

I was in freaking high school all over again and I just wanted to die!

It didn't end here.

After feeling hurt, getting angry, and fuming, I decided to take a higher road and just let them be them, cause I wasn't changing for anyone anymore. Plus, I had four children that enjoyed going to the church and attending the activities they offered. I wasn't about to let my moment ruin all of theirs. My four year old attends Pre-K there for gosh sakes! I have to find a higher ground in all this.

So I took some homemade coffee cakes to the Monday after-school program a couple of weeks ago. Spent all afternoon making them. When I placed the plate of treats on the counter for the kids to have (cause we ALL are suppose to chip in and donate treats for the kids for this program), all these stupid church ladies were there, and they all were looking at me like I was that leper again!

So I begin to explain that I brought them for the kids and a couple of them responded to me and said "Well, YOU didn't have to do that. We have OTHER mothers who bring treats for the kids".

WTF!!!!!!!

This time, instead of pissing me off, I just got determined to make them see me as much as possible. I am going to make so much stuff for those kids to eat, that soon their parents will be picking up obese little piggies afterwards instead of their own children (uh, including mine I guess, LOL).

I'm here and I am not going away! My kids like it there, and I'm going to make it the best possible experience for them even if those snobby, uptight, crappy church ladies don't like it and don't think I "fit it" to their whole idea of what "whatever" is.

Confused.... well so the hell am I!

I'm tired of denying it and pretending it doesn't exist, but my church completely sucks! It's another one of those places where it's more of a social group than a church. They want it filled with those they approve of, and mildly tolerate those they don't. It is the reason that I have avoided going to church for so many years, but since my kids are so involved with it, they are gonna have to deal with me more often than not.

And that being said, I went out and bought myself four new bundt cake pans for that coffee cake I need to make next Monday. If you can't win someone over with your charming personality, then get em through their stomachs!

Now THAT'S sinful!

I'm Baaacccckkkk... as my engine spurts and sputters to a start!

"1... 2... 3... Hello. Anyone out there? Is there anyone left listening to me after my month long hiatus?" ***** tap tap tap ***** on the mike.

Hello blogging world - I'm back.

"So what!". Okay, WHAT-ever!

In a nutshell, I took some time off to repair some cracks and holes in my family life, get a new haircut which totally sucks and I'm pretty much left going out in public with a paper bag over my head, lurking everyone's blog, and reconnect with a ba-ZILLION friends and family on Facebook that I have seen or heard from in like 25 years. It's been one big reunion party over there of late.

Frankly, after Toni's teachers "diagnosis" of her having ADD here, I was beginning to think that I had it since my focus has been so off lately. I've just had my fingers in all kinds of pie's this past month, and some of them were pretty damn rancid!

So what have I been doing of late?

Well, the first hour before I started writing this morning was consumed with deleting 244 pictures that Nia took on my iPhone of random shots like the floor, the tops of tables, the computer mouse, her finger (smudged and blurred), and the wall. How does a four year old take so many shots of absolutely nothing is beyond me. Why I let her do it is another completely puzzling question.

First, I lost my family about a month ago and I had to find them. They didn't leave home, they just all seemed to have left the "family unit" under my watch. So I did the thing that all crazy mothers do in my situation: I LAID DOWN THE LAW AND PULLED THE PLUG(S)!

The kids were fighting over the littlest things like who got more toothpaste on their toothbrushes, who had to actually pick up THE cheerio that fell to the floor and put it in the trash can, who's turn it was to pet the cat, look at the cat, etc., and actually have the kids look in their rooms to see that it was/is a complete disaster area that needs serious attention before the HazMat teams come out and move us out for harboring toxic waste dumps in our house.

Oh, and I had to remind them that the laundry DOES NOT fold and put itself away in their drawers with the help of some magic fairy pixie-person/mutation they saw on Disney the night before.

This is me glowing as a result of all the toxicity:

I leave you with some evidence:

Well.... what about the plug thing. The fights got so bad, and the neglect over basic household chores was so blatant, and everyone seemed to be in their own little corner of the house doing their own thing; i.e, glued to the TV, Xbox360, Wii, or computer, that I literally "pulled the plug" on it all!

I packed up all the video game essentials, blocked ALL under age 12 related channels on the TV, and hid all computers but the hubs and mine, cause we all know what would happen to the parents if we didn't have our own little outlets in which to tune out the finger on the chalkboard whining that hit when I did this.

The next week is total mayhem and chaos, to the point that I nearly call the local adoption agency to come pick up the war-torn aliens that have replaced my children and are living in my house and eating my food! But suddenly, on the first day after the first week, God parted the seas of tension and hostility, and their sat my four little babies in Toni's room all playing quietly and happily together without the assistance of some tubal connection to some electronic outlet that normally is buzzing their brain cells during this time of day.

I completely believe now that TV and video games seriously hardwire your kids into mutant blobs resembling THAT child YOU birthed that left you

getting 999 STITCHES on your vagina for!

Then on the second day, God said "Thou shalt do thy homework on time", and they were.

On the third day, God said "Thou shalt stop treating thy parents as if they are complete buffoons", and they did. Respect had been restored to a allowable and livable level in my home.

All is not perfect in my house, but at least the kids are being civil with one another again and not fighting over what channel to watch, whose playing what on what video game console, and acting as if mom and dad are the stupidest people in the world. The girls are now taking active participation in cleaning their rooms a little bit better. Like I said, all is not perfect...... yet!

The point is that I took some time off from writing to take back control over the household which I had somehow let run amuck in the time that I have been submerging myself into the blogging world. The readership, followers, pinging, and twitting just had to wait awhile.

Facebook on the other hand, was coming at me at uncontrollable levels due to the number of family I have all over the place. I think God dubbed my mother's side of the family the "Breeders", cause DAMN, I have a serious amount of relatives on that side. Then we add to all the childhood friends I grew up with in North Carolina, and it's beginning to make my office feel like I'm sitting in a matchbox these days cause there are so many people in my life now that weren't there a year ago.

Ain't the internet just grand!

Now, I have to do the REAL dirty work and pull the plug on the hubs TV time during dinner (which I COMPLETELY loath), and somehow rig his computer so that it refuses to work between the hours of 7 and 9 p.m., when I have been left to put four tired and cranky kids to bed myself.

This is the visual of what a tired and cranky four year old sees

of her father as she's trying to get his attention

just to say good night:

Yeah, I thought I was trippin' too cause his leg looks all contorted and lumpy!

Ladies, mothers, Mr. President.... any suggestions on what to do with the hubs now that I've partially straightened out my kids?????