Fire in the Hole!

I was SO abstaining from a HUGE swear (of the 4 letter BIG variety) – as we waited for pizza at 8:15 pm last night. Can you guess? What happened? Dinner a la tres crispy! I mean fire extinguisher crispy. Really, really, really, crispy.

On our way home from a field trip at Wolf Trap yesterday, I decided to stop at my long time favorite Tex-Mex Restaurant. Got some homemade salsa, guacamole dressing, and chips (apparently a mistake). Chicken enchiladas on the menu.

Made a fantabulous chicken “stuffing,” black bean side as well as salad with guacamole dressing. Healthy and delicious. Well, maybe NOT when sprayed with whatever nasty stuff is in fire extinguishers!

I put the chips in a 350 degree oven to “warm” them. Who woulda thought that those suckers would catch fire? Really, who woulda thunk it? But, well, they did. I mean flaming fire. Inasmuch as my fam loves to “capture the moment,” they were , seemingly, just trying to save the house – go figure.



The good news was that they ALL had the sense to grab a fire extinguisher, and spray it into the oven. Let me clarify, my husband and my son, both ,emptied two fire extinguishers - each into the oven. I am grateful that I am posting this rather than contacting my insurance company, but I think that those two males crossed the line of overkill.

Fire extinguisher overkill creates a huge mess. Did you know that, “nuisance dust” is actually an ingredient listed on fire extinguishers? Trust me, it is, and it SO fits! The entire dinner (on the top of the stove) was ruined (unless, of course, you are OK with eating a thin film of white crap on your food). The cabinets, the plates, the counter, the utensils. Everything!



My charming family thought it really amusing to add to the calendar, “The Tortilla Incident of 2007,” ~ in a bright pink sharpie. I love my family. They are almost as funny as I am.

It has taken me 7 hours to START cleaning this mess. I no longer crave the yummy stuff at that restaurant, I want them to feel my pain. Roomba and scooba were no help – they were like little abandoned orphans from Oliver – “please sir, can I have some more,” um. NO!

Not Even Roomba can Handle THIS!

This is how I started my day at 5:30 am.

ARRGGHHHH!

Well, you KNOW how much I adore gizmos! So, a few months ago I bought a “Foodasver” at Tuesday Morning (love that store). It came with all sorts of extra bags, a bag cutter, and three “airtight” storage containers. Perfect for me: I’m a real Costco fan. I mean, if you are going to buy an entire side of beef, a five pound block of cheese, or four pounds of butter, you had better be able to store it properly (I’ll tell you about the chest freezer for my 40th some other time). It was so cheap, it was almost as good as free – after all, I am gonna save SO much money by never having to throw away spoiled food. Right? Well, sort of…

My husband, and I am hoping I am not alone here, goes through phases. Every few weeks, he is all about eating right, blah, blah, blah. In the words of Marge Simpson, “OK, honey, I’ll take in all of your slacks.” AS IF! His first trip is always to the cereal aisle (nothing like some good ole carbs to help trim the old waistline),, hence six boxes of “healthy” cereal. OK, twigs and sticks. Um, get some more TP, heavy fiber. Can I compost that? The cereal, that is.

Here is the down side. He has no problem putting all of the cereal into those nifty airtight containers, but apparently, he has a problem actually resealing them again. So, I go to get my dd some cereal this morning, and Voila! Dog treats on the floor! This is NOT saving me any money. This is NOT for free. THIS IS a pain in my derriere! Not even my darling roomba could help me here. He made that, “ I am going to die” special beeping right away. Maybe he is not a morning person either.

I do not like brooms.
I avoid them in all my rooms,
I do not like them in my hand.
I do not like them when I stand.
I do not like them to clean the floor.
I do not like them anymore.
I do not like them and their dust.
I do not like them, but they are a must.
I do not like those brooms of mine,
I want to shred them like bits of pine.
I want a roomba to do all my work.
And, if I can, then it’s a perk.
I need a maid, and that is that,
If you can help me, then you are “Phat.”

Foodsavers do have one extra perk: if you put a “Peep” (you know, those hyper sweet marshmallow treats in fun shapes like bunnies, Santa’s, and pumpkins) into a foodsaver container and suck out the air – that cute little peep swells to twice its size, much like me when I was pregnant. Happy day;-)

The Little White Lie

A few days ago, I noticed that the new mailbox that my hd purchased about 18 months ago, which then sat in his car until two weeks ago, was in, of all places, the living room. Now, I am certainly not the best housekeeper in the world, but I am fairly certain that I did not put it there. So I asked my little darlings, “Why is that mailbox in the living room?” To which the response was two blank stares. “Um, I’m waiting.” More blank stares. Time for the full court press: straight to the weakest link, “Conor, do you know why the mailbox is in the living room?” Feet shuffle. Looking away, “I was just sort of looking at it.” Now I know that there is more to it than that, but seeing no immediate damage, I just let it go.

So, several days later, I am getting ready for our first field trip of the year, and have charged up the camera, but notice that, as usual, I haven’t moved the pics to the ‘puter, so there is no storage space. So, as a quick fix, I start going through the file to delete the 40% that are always out of focus (I wish someone would come up with a prescription glasses camera). And, then, I finally discovered the true story behind the mailbox incident: there are several pictures of our miniature poodle inside of the mailbox!

“Oh, Conor! About the pictures of Cleo in the mailbox…” Sheepish grin, “But, mawum, he fit into it, and he even sat down and everything.” Well, it was pretty funny. “Be that as it may, I don’t think that little dogs necessarily want to be stuffed in mailboxes, so let’s not do that again, OK?” “OK”

And why do we always have a back-up mailbox? Because, living in a rural area, kids actually still do go around and vandalize and smash mailboxes. One time, they went up and down our road, putting wads of newspaper in mailboxes, and lighting fire to them. The problem was, that they then immediately closed the flap. Stupid redneck true story.

I Love Free Stuff!

So, it has finally happened: Harris Teeter has opened a mere 6 miles from my house. All is right with the world. Thursday night, my ds actually made me go to their web site to get the phone number, and call to see if they were open. I love my son. He is perfect. I must have been completely snoozing having missed opening day. Opening day at a supermarket for a homemaker is akin to the Superbowl for husbands.

<< My little darlings are upstairs playing “extreme” air hockey. I know this because my dd has already received a thumb injury, Kiss the boo boo away – she still does that at 14! Of course, she also likes Dora the Explorer, well, maybe not in public, and she was not amused when I came home with a Dora lunchbox. teeheehee >>

So, Friday field trip! Yes, I consider the grand opening of a super market to be quite educational. Even more than a store grand opening, I love FREE STUFF. I don’t care how small, or seemingly insignificant, I am like a moth to a flame when it comes to free stuff, and store openings are the jackpot when it comes to grabbin’ goodies.

I love Harris Teeter. I want to marry them. They give me free stuff. So does Whole Foods. They are on my must marry list too. I always get free food. They call them “samples,” but I know what they really are, they are free for me, and the world is right.

I got to “spin for prizes” before I even entered the store. I wanted to “buy a vowel.” Harris Teeter gave me a $5 gift card just for giving them my email address, and a whole book of coupons, which I really love. I will block their email addy first chance I get, but I got something for free. I grazed through the produce section, eating strawberries (ended up with 3 boxes – they were on sale, the next best thing to being free), bread with spreads, cantaloupe, pasta with red pepper sauce. Yes, an odd combination, but it was free!

I only needed a few things, but, well, I ended up with a cart full. So, the grand total was about $120.00 (but I did not spend $120.00, no, I saved $22.49), and, then, that nice checker told me that I qualified for the FREE luggage. What? How does one qualify for luggage at a super market? I didn’t care, it was free stuff. Now seriously, that nice checker walks away, and comes back with a huge box. I mean really big, like 3 ft x 2 ft x 1 1/2 ft. This is even better than the lottery. I cannot wait to get home to open my free gift!

I rush home, and literally throw everything into the pantry, fridge and freezer. I want my free stuff! Meanwhile my son tears into the box. Not surprisingly, it was, well, luggage. Really nice luggage! One of those wheely suitcase jobs. I also got two more little bags inside of the big suitcase. Three free goodies for me! My son then does the whole Carol Merrill “The price is Right” routine, and shows me all of the cool features of the bag: it upzips to expand in size, it has a nifty attached zipper enclosed folding shirt bag, two handles on the outside so you can carry it two ways. It has lots of features. I want to travel just to use that new free bag of mine. They way I look at it, my groceries were free because that luggage has to be worth more than my groceries, and you have to buy groceries. And the world is right.

<< My children have now moved “extreme air hockey” into my walk in closet because it glows in the dark. I don’t want to know what they have done with the knee high pile of dirty clothes.>>

When Whole Foods opened, they gave me free things too. I got a whole bag of goodies from them (but, alas, no luggage). I got spices. I got a bag, I got, well, free stuff. I got a free oven mitt from that nice butcher when I bought some of his chicken. One time, I got a big soft cooler when I spent more than $100.00. I love being rewarded with free stuff. I think that it is only right.

Giant never gives me free stuff. They also messed with my list. They are no longer my friends. I have new friends that give me free stuff.

I want to get free stuff all of the time. If anyone knows about where to get free stuff, let me know, I’m the gal for you.

Time for Braces

Well, my dd got braces today. Just on the top with bottoms to come later. Boy have things changed since I was a kid. Firstly, you only got braces if you really needed them. Secondly, braces are now cool. Cool for the kids, but not for me shelling out $4,500, and that is with insurance! After placing the metal bands and wire on her teeth, the dental assistant comes up with up with what is basically a color wheel for the individual band type thingies that go on the front of each tooth. Wow, like 25 colors. I recommended the light blue to ease her (um, me) into the whole color in your mouth thing, and, well, to offset her eyes. I think that the “goth” kids are probably choosing black, the cheerleaders pink or maybe the school colors, and the color blind probably purple and green.

I think that this whole new color thing in dental and medical “braces” is an interesting new trend. A couple of years ago, my son broke his wrist, and needed a cast. No more plaster – it’s all about fiberglass now. The assistant, yes, only assistants for my money (why then, am I paying a premium for a “doctor” when all I ever see are nurse practitioners and assistants? But that’s another rant) comes in with, literally, a color swatch kit. Now liking home decorating, I think that this is way cool. As she shows each of them to ds, she gives an explanation of each: neon orange, navy blue, French (really, she said that) blue, red, camouflage (for the manly man), glow in the dark, neon green, clear…Wait, just stop right there! Did she really think that she had to go past “glow in the dark” for a 10 year old boy? Come on, I mean, talk about burying your lede!

This makes me think that I have completely missed the boat. I am totally going to start a color coordination business just to assist children and their families in choosing the right color combination. I can see it now, “Oh, I see your daughter as wearing a spring palette, she absolutely must have the lilac and pink.” Or, “That yellow completely washes out your coloring, you need to stay in the blue tones.” How about, “Um, you’re a redhead, what are you thinking wearing green, you’ll look like a Christmas tree.” Finally, “That purple completely clashes with your dining room decor. How on earth do you expect your family to eat while being nauseated by that color combination.”

I really think that I’m really on to something here;-)

Robots are my Friends

I am washing my kitchen floor, right now, as we speak. Really. While channel surfing (yes, women do that too – especially after your cable company switches nearly every single channel on you - I asked them for a *list* of the new channels for my collection), I ended up glued to a TV shopping network selling the irobot scooba.

Now, I already own four roombas. I love them. They are my friends. They are more loyal than dogs, and I don’t have any vet bills, or have to feed them, or clean up their pee and poo. They vacuum my floors, even under the bed, the couch and anything else they can fit their sleek little forms under. They never complain. They just move around the room, happy little campers, picking up dirt. They even get extra happy when they “detect dirt” and shine a happy blue light.

They “speak” to me to let me know when they are sick. They beep..beep…beep, beep, beep, beep. Sometimes they are just tired, and need some “juice” ~ much like children, but unlike children, they find their way to “bed” on their own to recharge. Once they have slept, they are ready to go find more dirt ~ also much like children. Sometimes, they are frustrated because they are stuck which results in a sad little beeping. They must think that they are cats, and can fit into any small space, but they cannot, silly little robots.

They are also very smart. They know that the stairs are right there, and don’t go down that nasty, robot killing mountain. One of my daughter's friends, however, maintains that their roomba committed suicide by throwing itself down the stairs. They have three dogs with long hair, so I can certainly understand how the poor creature felt. My son, that little darling, used his remarkable intellect and talents to play a dirty trick on me one day. I had set roomba to clean our upstairs hall, and then went downstairs into the kitchen. Little darling (my son, that is), pounded down the stairs and dropped a dictionary on the floor. OH! My poor little roomba I thought. What have I done to make you so upset, I thought while rushing to the stairs where I found my son laughing his little butt off. I was not amused (at least in his presence).

Two of my four roombas have, dear me, died. One, the original model, just died of old age. One of the newer ones was very unhappy and beeping while moving about in tiny circles. I called irobot customer service to complain that they had sold me a roomba with a drinking problem. He (all of my little robots are male because I think that it is just fitting) had a broken wheel. The best part was that I got a whole new roomba for my collection for free because he was still under warrantee. I wish children came with warrantees.

When we got our first roomba, it was a family event. We all just stared at the little thing going in all directions cleaning, cleaning, cleaning. My husband remarked that this was sort of defeating the purpose of saving time if we all just stood and stared at it all of the time. I said that robotics was educational. When we got our second roomba (the one with the drinking problem), he came with a remote. Oh joy, a whole new play toy. My children just loved that gizmo. Crumble up a cookie on the carpet, and just grab a remote. They also found that they could really torture the dogs with that remote. Somehow, the remote went missing ~ into my underwear drawer, a place that no child dares venture a peek. I am so very smart.

I have kept my two dearly departed roombas so that my son can take them apart to his little heart’s content. I am hoping that this will keep him from taking apart our motorized lawn tools and my husband's power tools. Mostly, I am hoping that he can figure out how to mate them, and make a brand new baby roomba that can wash my carpets. Wouldn’t that be great!

I think that the people who invented roomba must have really liked the old cartoon show, "The Jetsons." Roombas are no Rosies, but they are nifty little darlings. I want to go to the irobot headquarters to personally thank them because Robots are my friends.

Teenspeak

Sometimes, embarrassing your teen can be, well, really fun. While on a recent outing with my daughter, I used the phrase, “I’m jiggy with it” ~ in public. Oh Em Gee. Her response was just so gratifying: the roll of the eyes, the twisting of her waist, the cocking of one hip, the slumping of one shoulder, the bending of her neck at a somewhat unnatural angle, and the great heaving sigh. “Mom, NO ONE says that anymore. What is WRONG with you?” Who can resist eliciting a response like that? teeheehee

Like any self respecting parent, I am fully aware of the “rules” of a parent using teenspeak. We must only use phrases that are at least five years old. We must use them only in “private” we must, at all costs, avoid saying anything remotely considered teenspeak in public. The one exception is phrases or words that have become so main stream that they are used on the Disney channel because, then, they are no longer teanspeak but mainstream American vernacular. For example, how could one live a day without saying, “awesome” or “whatever.”

I really consider “teenspeak” akin to “newspeak” in George Orwell’s 1984. Perhaps, the goal of teens is to eventually reduce the number of words used in the English language. Think about it, “whatever” could replace so many phrases and words: OK, I disagree, you’re an idiot, I don’t care, shut up [that would be a welcome deletion, unless, of course, you meant, “shhuutt uuupp], I don’t care ~ the list is endless.

Remember the phrases of the past? What has NOT withstood the test of time: groovy (now that is just sad) , excellent (my personal favorite in middle school, “whoot” (as in “there it is”), and, well, “I’m jiggy with it” (what, from Nintendo’s Banjo Tooie?). Those that have remained: cool, totally, awesome, and my personal favorite, whatever.

Recently, in response to a somewhat snotty inquiry from my teen, I responded, “WhatEv.” My beloved tween and teen responded by saying, “never use that phrase again.” So, is it cool, or beyond geeky? I don’t know the answer. I do know that I have a new favorite phrase ~ “whatev.”

Lists

Friday August 31
Lists
I am a woman of lists. As a matter of fact, I have so many lists, that I need to start a list of my lists. I have a to do list, a list of school supplies still needed, a list of textbooks to buy, just to name a few. Some of my lists even have sublists: under the bill list, I also have a paid bills list, a list of bills to pay, and a list of bills not to pay – yet. I have three grocery lists: one for Costco, one for WalMart (in the event I don’t actually need 50 glue sticks or an entire side of beef), and one for just groceries that I can’t get for less money anyplace else.

I have found too, that the number of lists that I have is cyclical. The beginning of the school year is a busy list time for school supplies, books and clothes (and, why do children feel that they need “back to school” clothes – I’d really LOVE to thank the genius that started that trend). I love when the teachers give me their lists so I can add them to my collection. I can collate them, I can alphabetize them, I can even prioritize them – it is really fun. Christmas is also a very busy list time. Toys that are wanted by the children, toys that I can actually afford, toys that I have purchased throughout the year that are no longer cool, and the master gift list of who will get what, and what will be re-gifted. Summer vacation is a real list fiesta for me. I need lists of meals to prepare for two weeks, meals that have been made and frozen, lists of things not to forget to bring (like the dogs – oops – that’s another story), lists of things to buy before we leave, and lists of groceries to buy when we get there (actually two lists: one for WalMart and one for groceries – they don’t have A Costco, so that’s one less list).

We all have lists don’t we? Everyone needs a grocery list, or we would end up with a cart full of twinkies, donuts and ice cream. Even Santa has a list. Probably the biggest list of them all. Santa lives for a list doesn’t he? I think that the person who invented Excel was a list liker. I am teaching my children about lists. I love passing on my wisdom.

So, when someone messes with one of my lists, I am not a very happy camper. The people at Giant Food are messing with my grocery list (nice segway, huh?). I swear, there is some sick puppy at Giant headquarters who is just laughing his (yes, I am absolutely positive that it is a man) a$$ off about every two weeks when he sends out a memo telling all of the stores to rearrange their shelves – again. I cannot wait until Harris Teeter opens next month. A giant employee actually told me that, “they [Giant] might as well shut their doors.” I am assuming she is going for a position in the public relations dept (of either store, you pick).

Back to my grocery list. I am very organized (OK, borderline psychotic) when it comes to making my grocery list for the “big” shop. Every mom knows that, after you shop at a store long enough, you memorize where everything is. So, I make my list in order of appearance in the store. My goal is to get my groceries as quickly as possible before my children start poking each other, making balloons out of the bags in the produce section, using 50 twist ties from aforementioned section to make stick people, or a mini novel from coupons collected from those annoying machines (I honestly consider them free entertainment for my children – I mean, who can resist a machine that keeps spitting out stuff at you).

So, I was beyond frustrated when I found that everything had been moved for about the fifth time in three months. I had one last item that I could not find anywhere: I had already checked the items past three previous locations to no avail. Then, I spotted the store manager (I am very sure he is really happy to have his picture posted prominently so frustrated housewives can hunt him down), and asked, “um, do you know where I can find those “bag n season” things?” “Oh, we’re moving some things around [no, duh, I missed all of the empty shelves and overflowing carts blocking every other aisle], and I think that their still in the back.” I had to ask it, “Why do you guys keep moving everything around in here? It’s really frustrating.” I don’t even remember the response. I just replied, “but my list…”

I have added Giant to my final list, my $#!t list.

The Hummingbird Incident of 2007

Yesterday, I held a hummingbird in my hand.

Just before I started making dinner, my son ran inside to tell me that a hummingbird was stuck in the garage. Of course, everyone immediately rushed to have a look-see. The poor thing was completely freaked out: continually flying into the ceiling looking for an escape.

Things that do not work when trying to remove a hummingbird from a garage:
- Hanging hummingbird feeders all over the place hoping to get the poor creature to come to a lower level, and “go towards the light” of the open garage doors.
- Arranging a few skimboards, white side up, on the garage floor, and shining every flashlight that you can find in the house on them (note to self: get D batteries) in an attempt to attract the hummingbird to the outdoors.
- Moving both cars outside, and turning on the headlights – again, trying to attract it to the light. Remember to turn off the light unless you want a dead battery (another note to self: get jumper cables).

Things that you should not allow your husband or children to attempt in the removal:
- Screaming and making noise “to scare it out.” As if it wasn’t scared enough, and I have no clue as to how to administer CPR to a hummingbird.
- Using a tennis racket, rake, broom, or any other long handled object to “shoo” it out. Can you say “therapy” for the children when they kill the poor thing?
- Letting the dogs out to bark at it. Again, I don’t see much benefit from scaring it to death.

What does work:
- Patience and balance.

I figured (really, hoped) that at some point, the mini-dynamo would just tire itself out. Sure enough, after about 15 minutes, it landed on a beam holding up the garage door. Of course, not a nice, easy low beam, but almost to the top of a 15 foot ceiling. I carried our ladder (we have one of those jobs that can be shaped into an upside down V) over to the beam, and the bird didn’t move an inch. Then, I carefully climbed the ladder (no easy task in flip-flops) thinking the entire time that I did not have time to break any bones, and trying to convince myself that I could draw on all of that gymnastics from high school – not likely. When I reached the top (the last rung – whew), the little bird was clearly panting. I was shocked when it didn’t move as I oh so carefully picked it up, and cradled it as I struggled down the ladder. Meanwhile, my entire family has disappeared to get cameras, cell phones, video cameras – anything to “capture the moment.” Hey, what ever happened to “spotting” – hello, mommy is 15 feet up on a ladder.

So, it just stayed in my hand as everyone was madly snapping away. I was sure that, despite my efforts, it was too late. So, I carried it to one of the humming bird feeders on the porch, ignoring the pleas of, “can I hold it, can I hold it, please, please, please.” I wasn’t being mean, but was afraid that if it died, the kids might feel responsible. It didn’t take a drink, but shot off like the little rocket it is, and flew to a tree. We all stayed perfectly still trying to keep our eyes on it (me without my glasses, of course). Sure enough, it flew back to another feeder, had a few drinks, and flew away. Happy ending for a wonderful experience.

TeenAge Girls and Make-up

So, as I am dropping dd off at school this morning (yes, I drive her because we actually get to sleep 30 minutes longer ~ and that still means getting up at 5:45 am ~ scary, huh). Anyway, I see four of her classmates walking the walk, you know the “we are the popular girls” 14 year old girl strut, unless, of course, there are try-outs for a high school theater production of “Mean Girls” today, and I missed the memo. I swear, I have seen less make-up on circus clowns. Did I miss that Tammy Faye Baker was giving make-up lessons at our local Peebles? One girl had on so much eye liner, that it made her look cross-eyed – trust me, she doesn’t have the bone structure for a beady eyed thug. Another had on bright red blush so dark I thought she must have radiation poisoning; not a good look for a redhead.

Um, where was mommy when you got dressed this morning? I do recall the girls, from when I was in school, who would leave the house looking like Sandra Dee, and come out of the bathroom looking like, oh, I don’t know, a sluttier version of Paris Hilton (if that is even possible), but I don’t recall any girls who actually were allowed to leave the house looking that way.

I mean, if you’re going to allow a 14 year old to wear make-up, and I really don’t have anything against it ~ in moderation, please take the time to teach the poor girl how to wear it properly. Hello, have you ever heard of less is more? Just a hint: most department stores will give you makeovers for FREE. Then, you can buy the cheap stuff at the grocery store.

Perhaps they are the “popular girls” today, but methinks the “easy girls” of tomorrow. And, I won’t even start on the outfits….

I remembered that I had these pics of Kels, and just wanted to prove that I know, and have taught my daughter how to properly apply make-up - at an early age.

Buttons and Socks

Started in on laundrey only to discover that my miniature poodle had, once again, chewed the buttons off of two pair of my shorts. Admittedly, he is the type of poodle that gives poodles a bad name ~ completely hyper and needier than a grown man with a cold. I could live with the button chewing, but am at a loss as to where they are going. I mean we never find them. I can only assume that they have teamed up with the single socks that go missing from the dryer, and are starting a sock puppet family.

High School - Day Deux

Well, we went from, "That was the worst day of my life EVER," to talking about who she had lunch with, what friends she was reconnecting with, and so on. Breathing a sigh of relief here ~ I guess I won't need that Valium prescription after all.

A word about homework. Well, so far, I've gotta tell you that I gave more "home"work when homeschooling than her teachers do so far. I mean we jump right in from day one. No homework in: history, science or art. For Geometry, well, as far as I can tell, she is basically making faux spirograph art with a compass. This is day two with the same assignment. Only today, she tells me that she needs to use her colored pencils to color in all of the little squares. Huh? Please, someone needs to explain to me why a high school student is even using colored pencils! ok, ok I KNOW that it is about using the tool and the angles involved, but it just strikes me as funny. I really am glad that they are easing her into it.

Oh, and she *loved* the sandwich.

Apparently, I need to go buy an electric pencil sharpener. Maybe a spirograph too.

The First Day of School

I hate getting at 5:45 am. But, more than that, I hate getting my dd up at 5:45 am. This morning, I made the grievous error of entering her room at 5:32 am.

“Morning honey. Time to wake up”

Glare, “It’s 5-3-2, get OUT of my room.”

Charming. Well, let’s see what you get in your lunch today shall we?

Step One: Make peanut butter and jelly sandwich on white bread (you know the kind of bread that, when you were a kid, you could peel off the crust, and squish it into the size of a peanut – yes, THAT bread). Now, on a level of 1 to 10 for favorites, this particular sandwich comes somewhere below the level of lima bean and spinach on whole grain bread.

Step Two: Place sandwich at the bottom of lunch bag.

Step Three: Take large apple, and drop it from no less than three feet above the aforementioned sandwich, and “bombs away.”

So, it would seem that a peanut butter and jelly crater is on the menu.

I am not a perfect mother.

There is something unnatural about having to wake up a child at that hour. As if starting high school (from being homeschooled in middle school) isn’t enough, I have to deal with sleep deprivation as well. I can only assume it gets better – um, NOT!

My ds and I had a bet as to what her first words would be after her first day back to public school. His bet was, "I want to be homeschooled." My bet was, "I HATE public school." We were both wrong, "That was the worst day of my life EVER!" Apparently, my dd is much more gifted in conversation that I.

P.S. Sorry folks that I had to start all over again. Apparently, it was lunch time for the internet Gremlins, and my old blog was the main course. So, here I am on a new space with the same old stuff. Care, Megan