Random Thoughts

Here's a few random thoughts that I felt like sharing (If you follow me on Twitter you may have already seen a few):
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The other day at Walgreens, the checker asked me when my baby was due. That really made me feel like my pregnancy was finally "for real". Like, this one's going to take. It's also made me a little bit melancholy because I REALLY feel like I'm done after this, and I know this will likely be the last time I'm pregnant. I've realized how much I truly love being pregnant. I love people looking at me with a smile, I love feeling the baby kick me, I love looking at my belly when I lie down and see it wiggle and jiggle without any coaxing from me. Someone else is LIVING inside of me, someone with hands and feet and a personality all their own.
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Linus is still crying every day before school. Today begins the second week, and he's still sad every time we mention anything about school. His teacher has been really great about helping him get acclimated, but he hasn't made any friends yet. I think he isn't trying too hard, but it's just because he's so focused on being sad. I can totally see myself in that situation. I was that way one year at camp. I was so focused on being homesick that I would not allow myself to enjoy horseback riding or swimming or bonfires or anything. He's getting better and the school counselor has also been fantastic. His big brother has come to visit him in his class, and his teacher has given him a partner-friend every day, but these things are only marginally helpful. I think we're just going to have to ride this one out.
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I've finished seasons 1-4 of Lost. I am so into that show! My husband and I love to watch it together, which is nice to have some type of activity that we both enjoy, since I can't get him on board with scrapbooking and I will probably never have an interest in hunting. So, I think season 5 of Lost isn't available on DVD yet so I am going to have to watch it online at abc.com.
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I now officially have 2 sets of maternity clothes: "early maternity" and "late maternity". My "Early maternity" clothes are now too tight to be comfortable, so I've moved them to the back of my closet and I'm now wearing the "late maternity clothes" that are still a little too big but, at the same time, they don't make me break into a sweat when I have to walk more than 10 steps at a time. Every time I get pregnant I'm always shocked at how big I get even though I don't gain an enormous amount of weight (40 lbs each time).
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Lately I have been really into making stamped cards for our church Craft fair in November. I love letting out the creative side of myself.
Although, I have to admit, if I ever were to send a card to someone I probably would not take the time to make a card. I would only use one if I had one ready to go. How lazy is that??
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Finally, carrots: what's the deal? Keep them wet or dry? When I buy a bag of baby carrots in the store, they are usually a little bit wet. Now this is good because it keeps them fresh. But if they stay wet, they get a slimy funk all over them that is just nasty. But if they dry out, they get whitish and brittle and they crack. So what the frack am I supposed to do with baby carrots? Am I just a moron who can't figure out simple produce?

That's it. Maybe I'll have something fresher later this week.

We Are Pickle People

When I was a kid, my mom fixed us 3 square meals a day. Dinner was always a time when the whole family sat down together. We were always given an entree, a starch, and a vegetable. As a matter of fact, I remember not really knowing much about take-out pizza when I was in high school, because my mom NEVER ordered pizza out. If she didn't feel like cooking, we had left-overs or she made grilled cheese. Or I just had a Miracle Whip Sandwich.

I, on the other hand, am a total slacker mom. Some of my kids' favorite meals from me include Hamburger Helper and Chef Boyardee Ravioli.

However, I do have to say, I try to trick my kids into eating all their necessary food groups. How do I trick them, you ask? No, I don't put frosting on a carrot, nor dunk broccoli in Hershey's syrup. Instead, I offer them a lot of good choices and tell them that they MUST choose two side dishes.

For example, last night we had Sloppy Joes for dinner. Side dishes included: Cottage Cheese, sliced cheese (Co-Jack or Cheddar), corn, and pickles. I told the kids they had to have at least two side dishes but they could have all 4 if they liked.

There is a method to my madness: if a kid feels like he can choose what he gets to eat, I think he's more likely to actually eat it. But if forced to eat what is on his plate, a kid is probably going to turn up his nose.

And, it has just become such a regular thing that I offer non-typical side dishes for dinner, I don't even consider it as non-typical anymore. I only noticed this when our across-the-street neighbor stayed for dinner last week. I did the "You pick 2 of these 4 choices" thing. When I showed him pickles as one of the choices, he looked at me like, "Are you for real?"

The thing is, I am not really doing any more work than my mom did. I still fix an entree, a hot vegetable, and a starch. But then I add 2 or 3 more side dishes that are cold (like canned peaches, carrot sticks, sliced cheese, or apple slices). So, I'm not really having to do any extra prep work - I just basically open a can or a jar. And I make sure that none of the extra choices are starches, so when choosing my kids can't choose two starches.

I don't know what the long-term effects of this plan will be. But I can tell you, my kids eat a lot more pickles and carrot sticks than I ever did.

Tired of Feeling Bad

I am so blessed. I know it. I have pretty much nothing to complain about. But often times I begin to feel guilty, like why should I have such a great life when other people have it so hard?

Sometimes I wonder if it's the actual circumstances of my life or if it's just my point of view. I have a Mary Englebreit plaque that I just love. It sits on my computer desk. It says, "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be. -Abraham Lincoln" I know people can't will themselves into better health or more financial stability or determine their relatives' behavior. But I know plenty of people who have crappy circumstances, and still consider themselves blessed.

So why do I allow myself to feel bad about things over which I have absolutely no control? My family is all healthy. My husband has a really secure job, making a decent amount of money. I am able to stay home with my kids. I get along pretty well with my in-laws and my own parents and all my siblings. I have a very satisfying faith life at church and at home. We have no financial debt, except our mortgage. My husband doesn't drink or gamble or fool around. My kids like to eat vegetables. I've never had any problems conceiving.

Yet I can't get past the initial jolt of hurt feelings when I read a blog about infertility, and the author claims that she is "sick of pretending to be happy for her pregnant friends." Or the heavy weight of guilt that hits me when I see friends who are in dire financial straits, not because they've made bad choices about their money but because they (and sometimes their spouse, too) has lost their job. Or even the sadness I feel for other moms in the playgroup who are at the end of their rope, trying to figure out what to do with their out-of-control children. As crazy as life has seemed at times with Linus, I know he's a walk in the park compared to a child with moderate to severe Autism or Oppositional Defiant Disorder, or something worse.

I don't know if it's because I grew up Catholic, and feeling guilt was just a daily expectation; or if I just am the type of person that chooses to take on the pain of people around me. But whenever someone I know or meet is hurting in some way, I immediately feel ashamed at my good fortune for not suffering whatever that person has to endure.

Am I the only schmuck who feels this way? What is wrong with me?

Shameful Behavior

Shame: it's a powerful motivator.

Do you wonder how many habits you have that you pass onto your children? I wonder if some habits are part of our genetic make-up and if some are just learned behaviors. For example, I have always bitten my nails for as long as I can remember. And, I don't just mean a nervous habit. I mean, I would bite my nails until they bled. I can recall many nights as a child AND as an adult, lying in bed at night, unable to sleep because my fingers were throbbing from pain. And now, my 3 older kids all bite their nails too. I hear my own mom's voice in myself when I say, "If you don't stop I'm going to make you wear gloves!!!"

When I got married, I got acrylic nails for the wedding, and I was hooked. I've had acrylic nails for most of the last 11 years. But last year when we moved to Texas, I decided to let them come off - due to the higher cost of fills and also our lack of discretionary spending in the family budget. So, I went right back to biting my nails. I never really made a huge deal about it to myself. I figured, I don't smoke. I don't drink. I'm not (too) overweight. So I have this one habit? So what? But whenever I tried to find one person, just one person, who had uglier nails than I did, the search was futile.

Then, this summer, I went to a party with my very good friend. She introduced me to her friends (none of whom I had met before). One lady in particular, we'll call her Min (after Min the bitchy neighbor in King of the Hill - do I have to tell you again how much I love that show?) asked me, "Do you bite your nails?" to which I replied, "Yeah. I do." She wrinkled up her nose, like she'd just smelled a poopy diaper, and said, "You know you really should stop that. It's gross." So I said the first reply that popped into my head: "Wow. That didn't make me feel self-conscious or anything!"

Yes, I had just met this girl (woman? Lady? What do you call a female peer who's mid-30's?) about 3 hours previous. Up until that point she'd been really sweet and (I thought) sincere and genuine. Then she blurts out a social faux-pas like that?

But, know what? It was effective. I have not bitten my nails since late June. Right now, I have RED nail polish on my nails. They aren't long or glamorous, but they are long enough that I can scratch my own itch without resorting to finding a fork or a hairbrush or some other scratchy-scratcher.

So, while I think her method embarrassed me for a moment or two, it also motivated me. I didn't hang my head in shame for the rest of the party, but I think I did shove my hands in my pockets. But so what? I think she knew that what she'd said was a social misstep, and I tried to be the bigger person by just moving on.

It's funny, though, if someone close to me (like my sister or my husband) had said something like that I probably would have just told them to shut up. I guess because I figure they love me despite all my personal flaws. But having a total stranger notice my flaws and call me on them, that's pretty humbling.

So I guess the next time I need to lose weight or get a wardrobe change, I should ask a stranger his or her opinion. Or maybe I'm just a glutton for punishment.

Being the New Kid In Town

I am so proud of my kiddos. They handled the first day of school like pros. Like they've been doing it all their life.

Well, actually, they kinda have. This is Linus's second year of school. And second school. This is Charlie Brown's 4th year of school, and his 3rd school. This is Peppermint Patty's 5th year of school, and 3rd school. I really hate the fact that we keep moving them around from school to school, but between moving and finding the right academic environment for them, we haven't been able to provide much stability in that area. We are praying that the stability of our family and our faith life is a good foundation. But anyway....

I cannot tell you how much I hate being the new kid parent at school. It seems like every time we start a new school, there is SO much stuff that goes on, that's just like an unwritten code. Unfortunately, the only people who know this code are the people who went to school there last year. And God forbid they share the secret code with anyone else.

For example: two schools ago, in Illinois, Peppermint Patty started Kindergarten. Every day they would get crackers for a snack at around 10:00. This I knew, because I had to send a box of crackers to school with the school supplies. Then, about two weeks into the school year, I get a note home that I owe the school for 10 milks. I was all WTF??? I asked her, "Have you been taking extra milks at lunch time?" Of course, she answered no. I wondered what in the world was going on. I asked, only to find out that they serve milk to the kids at snack time along with the crackers. Not that I care about spending an extra 25 cents a day for my kid to get some extra calcium, but why didn't they tell me that ahead of time? Why didn't I know that? And, when they asked me to send "gym shoes" for my child, why can they not wear them for gym class when it's held outside? Only after a whole year of school did I find out that gym shoes are only for when gym class is held in the gymnasium. When gym class is held outside, you must send your child to school in tennis shoes becase GOD FORBID they wear their designated "gym shoes" outside.

So this year my kids are starting a new school. Again. And when we went to meet their teachers at the school last Thursday night, I see all the kids bringing in their eleventy-hundred bags of school supplies. I wondered why we didn't bring ours... oh MAYBE BECAUSE NO ONE TOLD US TO DO SO. I also have to ask about the school bus. Where does it pick up my child? What time? What is the bus number? The principal tells me that they don't give out that information unless people ask for it. Because, you know, unless you live more than 2 miles from school, the bus is not for you. So here's the phone number for the bus barn - you have to call it and make arrangements with them yourself (she hands me a phone number on a post-it note).

Okay, don't even get me started on how pissed I was about that. I specifically registered my kids for school on the night for NEW STUDENTS ONLY. Kindergarteners and people new to the district. So, you can assume that we all know squat about your school and the way "things are done". So NO I don't know anything about the bus.

Yes, I filled out a form (three times, once for each child) to tell you what is the primary language spoken in our home. Yes, I completed the form indicating that we would not be needing free or reduced lunches. Three times. Yes, I filled out a release (three times) for records to be sent to Military agencies, should they request it (even though this school only goes up to 4th grade). Yes, I answered a questionnaire about whether or not our family is a group of migrant workers, if we've been relocated in the last 3 years to pick fruit or cotton, and if we are living in accommodations that are not actually intended for housing people. Yes, I filled it out three times.

But no, you never told me nor listed it in the online student handbook, WHAT TIME SCHOOL STARTS IN THE MORNING.

Thanks for that.

Sleeping in Separate Beds

Writing this post, I'm glad I've chosen not to tell my friends and family about my blog.

So, I've written before about how much I love my mother-in-law. We'll call her Peggy (after my favorite T.V. woman, Peggy Hill from King of the Hill). She's incredibly generous with her emotions. There is no doubt she loves my husband and me. And I know she thinks my kids are little bits of heaven. But, she's got this one thing that I can't get past...

My MIL (mother-in-law) and FIL (father-in-law) sleep in separate beds. Not only that, they sleep in separate bedrooms. She claims it's because he snores. Whatever. But that's not the part that bugs me. What bugs me is that, when we came up to visit last month, she refused to go ahead and sleep in their queen-sized bed together so that our kids could sleep on the pull-out sofa together. Instead, one slept on a regular sofa and the other one slept on an air mattress on the floor.

Am I the only one who thinks that's weird? Not the sleeping in separate rooms part - that's her business. I could care less what she and her husband do in private. But, when we come to visit, wouldn't it make sense (and seem like common courtesy) to just suck it up for a few days in order to make everyone in the house more comfortable?

And when I asked her about it, she said, "But he snores!" And I said, "But don't you think you could put up with it, just for a few nights? I mean, we'll only be here a couple of days and then you won't have to deal with his snoring again for who knows how long!" And she just said, "No, I can't."

And, whenever she and my father-in-law come to visit, they stay at our house. (No, that's not the part that bothers me). And they insist on sleeping in separate beds.

Still gotta ask, am I the only one who thinks that is kinda weird? Again, not so much with the separate beds thing, but more with the I'm-only-one-person-but-I-need-a-room-all-to-myself thing.

Here's the sitch with beds at my house: We have a 4-bedroom house. Texan Papa and I have the master bedroom. Charlie Brown and Linus share a room with twin bunkbeds. Baby Sally has a room with a crib. Peppermint Patty has a room with a double (full) bed. Now, wouldn't it make sense for my in-laws to share Peppermint Patty's bed, and have PP sleep on the couch?

But, no. MIL must sleep in Peppermint Patty's bed. FIL must sleep on the pull-out couch in the living room. And Peppermint Patty sleeps on our floor or on the blow-up mattress in our room.

And, when they DO stay at a hotel, the get a room with two full-size beds. Seems normal, right? But they don't get TWO rooms. So why do they need TWO rooms when they stay at my house? It is a HUGE inconvenience. Well, actually, it hasn't been a huge inconvenience yet because the only time they've come to visit together has been when I've had to go out of town for some reason, so I'm not there to complain anyway. Plus, then one of the kids can then sleep in our bed.

But, they've already planned a trip down here for December, after the baby is born, to see the baby and to celebrate Christmas. I have already told my husband that he'd better talk to his folks about this because not only will I be here, but we'll have an extra person now living with us. Plus I'll be post-partum (a.k.a. in no mood to deal with anyone pissing me off in any way). And, most likely, I'll be breastfeeding at will throughout the day, exposing my boobies to anyone who doesn't avert their eyes.

I was just about to type, "Now normally I'm a pretty non-confrontational person." But that's totally not true. Normally, if something or someone needs confronting, I don't shy away from it or him or her. I have really tried to keep the waters between my MIL and myself smooth for the last 11 years, and so far there have been no waves. Honestly, she's really easy to get along with. But I am a little bit afraid of what might come out of my mouth if she even suggests that we can squeeze them in at our house for their visit. It would not be pretty. For anyone involved.

If I Knew You Were Coming...

Today I was feeling really crappy. I consider myself to be a remarkably healthy person, usually. I have absolutely ZERO allergies to anything, I have never had mono/strep/ear infection/bronchitis, and I rarely even have the sniffles.

But today: runny nose, sneezing, weak. I guess I caught a summer bug. No biggie but no fun either.

To make my day just a WEE bit better, the kids were fighting like cats & dogs, so I went all Mommy Dearest on them and separated them, then barked out a laundry list of chores for them to do one at a time. So here I am, sniffling and coughing, forcing my eyelids to stay open, and snarling, "Put EVERY SINGLE PIECE OF CLOTHING where it goes neatly or so help me I will RIP everything out of your bureau and make you start all over again. And YES I'm going to check it when you're done."

No, I didn't check it.

Anyway, what does a normal person do when they're physically sick as well as mentally sick-and-tired? Bake a cake. Okay, maybe a normal person doesn't do that, but that's what I did. I have always loved to bake, ever since I was a little kid. For some reason, my mom always trusted me in the kitchen with an electric mixer and a hot oven. So, to give my day a little perk, I made a yellow Bundt cake with chocolate chips, and a gooey chocolate frosting. The frosting proved to be a bit runnier than I expected and the cake sort-of turned into a vanilla sponge, so now I have one very moist chocolately cake.

But it's gooooood.

Join The Club

My sweet, adorable husband told me today that he feels guilty about being anxious to go back to work after his 2 days off. I tried not to be patronizing, but I smiled and nodded my head. Welcome to my world.

I am SO SO SO SO anxious for school to start. I think the kids are getting on each others nerves as much as they are getting on mine. Heck, I'm sure I'm getting on their nerves too, but they know they better not say it! I've just about exhausted myself of any energy to keep them away from the TV and the Gameboy. If I thought it would be productive, I would make a list of chores that need completing. But have you ever made a chore list for an unmotivated kid? The completed chore just ends up needing to be redone. Folding clothes, cleaning out closets, sorting through toys, it doesn't matter. The end result is a big pile of a bigger mess. At least it would kill some time but I would prefer to actually get the jobs done and reward them with a trip to the movie theater or something.

I am starting to realize that this is just going to be our regular summer cycle. It sure would be NICE if I could say that summer just "flew by" with my kids having so much fun and me not wanting it to end. The truth is that it dragged on and on and I think my kids enjoyed sleeping in more than any activity I actually planned for them.

Case in point: On Tuesday, Texan Papa and I planned a trip to Glen Rose, TX. It's a little more than an hour from DFW. The town boasts many tourist activities, including Fossil Rim Wildlife Park (a driving tour with giraffes, zebras, etc.) and Dinosaur Valley State Park (a state park where dinosaur tracks have been discovered and preserved). We decided to stay overnight on Tuesday at the most charming little bed-and-breakfast I've ever found, called Country Woods Inn. We had our own cabin, decorated with rustic woodsy decor. It had 2 full beds, a bathroom with clawfoot tub, and a full kitchen. AND CENTRAL A/C!!!!

Our kids first impression as we drove up: "This place looks junky." Uh, yeah, it's not the Mariott. That's the whole point. Our cabin was directly next to the pasture where 2 horses and a sheep were grazing. Adjacent to the pasture was a petting/feeding area for chickens, turkeys, goats, rabbits, and a donkey. There was even a play area for kids, complete with teeter-totter, tire swing, basketball hoop, and tetherball. They had croquet sets, horseshoes, and an outdoor chess set. Our cabin even had a giant TV, DVD player, and satellite TV (which we refused to turn on. After all, if we wanted to watch TV we could've stayed home or gone to the Mariott). Everything on the premises was EXTREMELY CLEAN and WELL-KEPT, not like what I expected from cabins in the woods, directly next to the river.

Speaking of the river, we took a long walk in the riverbed, which was dry. We saw minnows and tadpoles and tiny frogs. We saw lots of bugs and beautiful scenery.
That evening, we sat outside our cabin and cooked hot dogs on the wood-burning grill around the campfire circle (every cabing has its own).
We cooked s'mores and even ate a few extra gooey marshmallows. I think one of the best things has to be that we didn't get bit by a single mosquito (probably because of the dry riverbed). Staying at the Country Woods Inn might have been even better than the activities we did during the day.

We enjoyed the Dinosaur Valley State Park, but it was REALLY hot. The kids got to swim in the swimming hole and see giant dinosaur tracks, which was cool.

We also went to the Creation Evidence Museum. That was kinda a let-down. We were hoping for a great learning experience for our kids to counter all the evolution theory they will hear in school, but the museum wasn't very kid-friendly and just kinda all jumbly. Exhibits weren't explained very well. But, now we can say we've seen it, right?

On our next trip to Glen Rose we are going to go to the Fossil Rim Wildlife Park and definitely stay at the Country Woods Inn again. It was so much fun. A real rustic experience but without having to pitch a tent. Texan Papa must have said a half dozen times, "This makes me want to buy a cabin on a river or a lake someday." That would be so awesome! But, only after all our kids are grown and gone. I think he and I just need to realize that we love our kids, but enjoying some peace and quiet is too heavenly to not fantasize about.

I'm Not As Smart as I'd Like You To Believe I Am

This morning started out so well. I had the kids enraptured in a new activity. Just when I thought my brain had been sucked dry of any original ideas, one just dumped itself in my lap. I bought a newspaper yesterday for the ads and the coupons, and my 3 kids decided they were going to go through and cut out all the coupons of things they want. That's okay with me because I am constantly buying things like Go-Gurt or Fruit Gushers or hot dogs anyway. If the kids can get me 50 cents off, I'm pretty pumped.

So, for like 30 minutes, the 3 older kids sat with scissors in hand, poised over a giant pile of coupon fliers. Clip, clip, snip, snip. After they were done, I told them, "Now you need to write everything down on a grocery list." Another 20 minutes with barely any peeps from the Peanut gallery. I was all "Oh I am so going to blog about what a great idea this was!"

Then, of course, it was time to put the plan into action. Time to actually go grocery shopping. With 4 children. Getting close to nap time. Well... here goes nothin'

When we get to Tom Thumb Grocery store, I grab my eco-friendly bags and tell the kids to get their coupons and come inside. Once inside I tell them, "Now, you have to remember to get all the coupons out of your pouch for the items we pick up." Easier said than done. We are barely into the produce section when they start asking, "Where's the Gatorade? It's on sale! And the Fruit Gushers? And the Pop-Tarts?" I nearly lost it right there in front of the empty bin that was supposed to hold ears of corn, 5/$1. Guess I'll have to go back for that before Tuesday when the sale ad turns over.

Before we even make it to the deli department, I tell everyone, "Look, we are going to get as much stuff as we can that's on our list. But if you are not staying with me, or being loud or obnoxious, or whining, then we're leaving. Without Fruit Gushers, or Gatorade, or hot dogs. Got it?"

I warned them about two more times until we finally left, with only about half of the items on our list. Oh, but it's not over. I still had to check out the items we DID get a chance to put in the cart. And find the matching coupons for those items. And get out my shopper card. And deal with a baby who was overdue for her nap, screaming, "DOOOWWWWNNNN!!!!! DOOOOWWWWNNNNN!" and two boys who were both trying to give each other noogies.

Once I'd paid and walked out to the car, I get the motor going so that the A/C can start cooling the car. And do you know what the kids do? No, they don't help me load the bags into the car. No they don't offer to take the cart to the cart corral. They immediately jump in and start fighting about who is sitting in the front, and start yelling, "MOOOMMMM, CAN I HAVE A GATORADE NOW???"

Oh sweet Jesus, I have never laid into them so badly. I gave them the whole 9 yards about "If you want something nice, then you have to be nice first! Don't expect me to shower you with desserts and take you to special expensive places if you are going to act like wild animals when I need you to behave!!!" They kinda hung their heads and sulked. I only felt a little bit bad. I never said YOU ARE HORRIBLE or I HATE THIS but I did make sure they understood how hard it was for me and that, really, like 75% of the groceries I bought were specifically for THEM!

And, it's not like this is the first time I've taken them all to the grocery store with me. You'd think I'd know better by now. I guess I have no one to blame but myself.

Okay, so, moral of the story: if you are going to take my little "idea" for clipping coupons, then probably just use them for pretend play with groceries from your pantry. Unless, of course, you like having a panic attack in front of the Fruity Pebbles. Then you're on your own.

The Best Money I Spent This Summer

You know the story... the economy is in the toilet. Everyone is watching their money. Blah, blah, blah. So yeppers we'll go with the flow and be frugal too. It's kinda weird though, because our family has never been one to be big spenders. We didn't really cut back much because we've always cut back. We have lots of second-hand furniture, we buy lots of stuff on clearance, and we happily accept hand-me-downs from friends for our kids.

Now, we aren't afraid to actually put out our money for something that's important to us. It's just that we make really careful decisions about what's important and what's frivolous. And, even admitting that something is frivolous is okay, as long as we can save up enough money from birthdays or Christmas for a purchase that won't eat into the family budget.

So, anyway, this summer we spent our money carefully but wisely. Here are some of the best things I spent my money on:


The Rival Snow-Cone machine cost me just $10 at Wal-Mart in the clearance aisle. I really hesitated buying it because we already had one at home, but it was a manual hand-crank job. I finally decided that I'd get it because my kids could use it easily and we could sell the manual one in a garage sale. Well, we've never had so much fun with an appliance! We eat tons of snow-cones and use shaved ice in our drinks. The kids love to have a snow-cone for dessert and it's so easy to make. We do have some of the snow-cone syrup, but about half the time I make them with fruit juice instead to make it a bit healthier.

Six Flags season passes are an amazing value here in Texas. The park opens in Mid-March and stays open until the first weekend in January of the following year. We got a great deal on our passes last year through Travelzoo, an online travel deal website. I think we paid $55 each plus tax. And the baby is free because she's under 2 years old. So, about $225 for totally cheap entertainment all summer (and fall and into the winter) long. We love to go to Six Flags for about 3 hours at a time. We can go with our tummies full, stay a while, ride whatever rides have short enough lines, and then leave without feeling like we wasted our money or exhausted or with a headache. We have the soda bottle that cost $10 to buy, but now it's only a buck to refill it. And, they'll fill it with ice water for free. We also have the giant popcorn/cotton candy bucket that cost $9 to buy, but only costs a buck to refill. So, imagine going to Six Flags with $5 in your pocket and knowing you have plenty of money.

And, to answer the next question I know *I'd* have if I were you, YES I take all 4 kids by myself. YES it is kinda hectic (that's why we only stay for about 3 hours at a time). YES at first I was nervous about losing the kids, but they have learned how to stay together and I have learned to be super vigilant about watching them. YES sometimes they disagree about which rides to ride, so we take turns deciding. And, NO I don't ride the rides with them (because of the baby) unless it's a ride that the baby can go on too. People in Texas are just... different. They are so amazingly friendly and considerate. I really don't worry about any of my kids waiting in line to ride a ride by themselves. Maybe I'm too trusting, but I guess I'm just so familiar with Six Flags now that it doesn't seem like the huge scary place I once imagined it to be.

The last bargain I found was our local Parks & Rec department camps. My two boys went to Karate Camp for 5 days, 3 hours each day. My daughter went to Dance camp for 5 days, 3 hours a day. The cost was $60 per camp. I thought that was really reasonable. Plus, they got exercise in an air-conditioned facility, learned a new skill, and got some time away from the T.V.

Next summer we'll probably do a lot of these same activities, but at least they'll have 9 months to miss them!

All pictures courtesy of Google Images

Pregnancy Joy?

I am roughly 3 months away from having my 5th baby. My 6th pregnancy. And I was just saying to my husband the other day, "I'm having a lot of cramps lately. Probably just round ligament pain. By the 5th time you carry a baby, it's kinda just old hat. But still, it's a brand new miracle, every single time."

Our path to have this child has been one of unexpected joy. I always knew I would love to have a lot of children. After meeting my husband and marrying him, and watching him be a father, this thought was only solidified in my brain. I try my hardest to be a great mom, but he is really an amazing father.

As our family grew, we were met with so many comments from well-meaning (?) folks. When Peppermint Patty was born after we'd been married 17 months, people said, "Well, you didn't waste any time now, did you?" and "You should have spent more time being newlyweds!" Then, 18 months later, her younger brother Charlie Brown arrived on the scene. We were met with the inevitable, "Now you have one of each. Are you going to stop?" and "Your family is just perfect now! A girl and a boy! What else could you ask for?" Then, 18 months after him, our second son - Linus - was born. As expected, the comments came in the form of, "So, you DO know what causes pregnancy, right? You two better start sleeping in separate beds!" and "How are you going to handle all those children, so close in age?" and of course, "So, are you going to stop NOW?"

I thought all those questions were a little presumptuous. I felt like saying, "Do you think it's really any of your business? I'm not asking YOU to babysit." But, truthfully, I did wonder some of the same things in my own mind. Would I be able to handle it? Was it crazy for me to want so many children? Was it irresponsible? It had always been my opinion that I shouldn't wait until we had enough money for a baby or we were at a good place in our careers or whatever plan was in the works. We just wanted a family, and that was priority #1, and we decided we'd figure out the rest as we crossed those bridges.

Then, as my 3 older Peanuts grew up, I knew it was time to have another. I just felt it... I'd like to say in my gut, but really it was more like in my uterus. Baby Sally was such a welcome addition to our family and I have enjoyed every moment with her. It's been almost like a new beginning of motherhood for me. So, when I got pregnant last fall, I was really emotional. I didn't know if I wanted the love affair with my new baby to end. I didn't know if I'd be able to handle having a toddler and a newborn. When I miscarried a month later, I was filled with so many new emotions: sadness, grief, relief, betrayal. I felt a loss I had never experienced before. But at the same time, a weight was lifted from me. I felt guilty for loving my baby daughter and being selfish about my time with her. At the same time, I mourned for the loss of a baby I would never hold in my arms. It was joy unrealized.

Having a miscarriage changed my perspective about childbirth forever. Every other time I'd been pregnant and gone through the motions of preparing for another baby, it was in classic textbook form. I never spotted. I never had gestational diabetes. I never gained a dangerous amount of weight (40 lbs each time). I bought maternity clothes, I read the Lamaze books, and I glowed. But this pregnancy has me feeling very guarded. Playing my cards very close to the chest. I don't tell people I'm pregnant if they can't guess it. I wear maternity clothes but I still suck in my stomach. And every single visit to the OB is like jumping off a cliff. Even my last one, at 24 weeks, nearly brought me to my knees. At first, he couldn't hear the baby's heartbeat. It was like I was rounding the top of the roller coaster and had begun the plummet to the bottom. Then he moved the doppler to the top of my uterus, closer to my rib cage, and right away I heard the quick thump-thump-thump-thump. I simply cannot escape the feeling that I am just waiting for the other shoe to drop.

So, while this pregnancy was certainly unexpected, it was definitely not a disappointment. And when acquaintances do find out that we're expecting our 5th child, how should we respond to, "Oh my God. Are you crazy?" and "I can't even imagine that" and "Did you really WANT 5 kids?" Besides being complete asses and just saying, "No, we didn't want all these kids, but we're stuck with them now," how should we respond?

I got thinking about this because of a post I read. The author of the post writes beautifully about her struggle with infertility and how a couple who is expecting an adopted child gets a very different response than do those expecting a biological child. She writes that when we hear of pregnancy, the reaction is easy - joy; but adoptive parents are looked at in a different light and comments they receive range from questioning to offensive to hurtful. Her perspective strikes me as funny, because I would have to say that while I've been expecting my 5th biological child, I've received fewer joyous remarks than I have saying that I'm crazy. What happened to the joy of the birth of a baby? Why should the fifth child be any less miraculous than the first? I am excited to hold my new bundle of joy in my arms. But the trepidation I feel from my miscarriage, coupled with the sentiments conveyed by random people at the grocery store, keeps me from enjoying the anticipation of this blessed event.

So, while I will no doubt have my hands quite full for a long time, I like to say, "They are full of love." And anyone who thinks I'm crazy can go shove it.

The 5 Senses of my Childhood

Every once in a while, I'll come across something that calls up a memory from my childhood. Usually, it is at a time when I'm not actually trying to recall something from my childhood, but rather the memory sneaks up on me and surprises me in a wonderful way.

For example, the word "rebar". I don't even know if that's how you spell it, but I'm talking about the tubular metal stakes that go into the foundation of a building. You see, when I was almost 3 years old, our family moved into a newly built house in a brand-new subdivision. My brother (3 years older) and I would often ride our bikes around that neighborhood as new homes were built over the next few years. He and I would often climb into the basements, where the construction crew had left a skeleton staircase of bare wood (or sometimes just a ladder). My brother always warned me of the pieces of rebar sticking out, so that I would not poke myself on them as we were playing. I'd never heard that word before, and now I always remember the first place where I heard it.

Other parts of my childhood are forever ingrained in my memory, because of certain smells, sights, sounds, and tastes. For example:

The taste of Apple Jacks drowned in Whole Milk. Until I was probably 10 years old, we drank whole milk at my house. You know, the Vitamin D stuff. I don't know why my parents picked that; probably because it tastes so awesome. As a kid, I never knew there were other "percents". And, my favorite cereal as a kid (and still as an adult) was/is Apple Jacks. I have always loved AJ's but until Baby Sally recently started on whole milk, I'd forgotten how wonderful that combination tastes. I guess over the years I have put myself on 2% milk, then 1%, then skim, then 1/2%, then back to 1%. I'd forgotten how creamy and smooth that Vitamin D milk is. My older kids now prefer that milk over the 1% too. I can completely understand.

The smell of sawdust. As a young girl, I loved to wear dresses, but I also loved to get dirty. I would ride a bike in a skirt. I would climb a tree in a dress. And I would sit in my dad's workshop and pound on scrap pieces of wood with a hammer and his chisels. I would carve little words in there like "Gretchen's Room" and then nail some wire to the back and proudly display it in my room. I would also build whatever I needed: a jewelry box or a shelf or whatever else could be constructed from random small pieces of lumber and a few nails. Still, to this day, whenever I smell sawdust, I picture my dad's workshop and that big cardboard box of scrap wood that held the keys to unlock my imagination.


The sound of "Yesterday" by the Beatles. My sister had this snazzy white box with sparkles on it that held all of her 45's. I can still hear the sound of "Yesterday" and "Hey, Jude" coming out of the speakers in her room. Later, she got a piano book of the music for Beatles' songs, and she learned how to play "Yesterday" on the piano. I can really clearly remember sitting on the stairs, listening to my sister practice that song on the piano in the living room, wishing I could be as cool as she was. Later, of course, I learned all the songs in that piano book too. Well, I learned all the ones I'd heard her play because I wasn't really learning the songs because I liked the Beatles.

The feel of cold copies fresh off the ditto machine (and the smell of that purple ink). I remember when my teacher would come into the classroom and pass back a stack of freshly copied worksheets. The pages felt slick and the smell of the ink was infectious to nearly every student. I had forgotten about that until I did my student teaching at a parochial school. To keep costs down, they had resisted doing their running-off of papers on a copy machine; they still used a ditto machine. I think by that time, though, the ink was black (not toxic purple).

And sights... well, it's hard to pick one. Some things that remind me of my childhood, every time I see them are (all pictures courtesy of Google Images):

My mom would only buy me Jordache Jeans from Marshalls, where they were marked "IRREGULAR". They might as well have been marked "LOSER".

My mom & dad still have this tupperware set. I'm 100% serious. And they still use it.

I can't remember a lot of specifics about the episodes, but I remember how much I loved this show:

I had one of these and my brother had the Green Machine. I think I wore through those plastic wheels pretty quickly by riding down our street as fast as I could, then skidding to a halt before I crashed into a tree.

I NEVER got the 64. I begged and begged. One year I got the 48, but I think by that time it was a hollow victory. I was probably in 6th grade by then and already labeled a dork. 64 crayons wasn't going to help my cause at that point.

So, what are some things that call up memories of your childhood?

Clothes Sorting

Disclaimer: Yes, this will probably be the most boring post you read today. But, if you're anything like me, you've realized since becoming a parent exactly how much of your daily life is now hopelessly out of your control, and you grasp tight hold onto anything you can actually claim your dominion over.

Sorry, dangling preposition there.

Anyway, last year my kids went to private school and their uniform was polo-style shirts in red, white, navy blue, or hunter green. I had 3 kids who could all wear these shirts and I was forever trying to figure out whose shirts were whose. Not that it really mattered, but I didn't want one kid to end up hoarding all the shirts and another having to wear a dirty shirt two days in a row, simply because I couldn't sort the shirts into the right piles.

Plus, I have noticed that one brand's size "Medium" ends up being the same size as another brand's "Extra Large", so I can't really go by sizes either. One size fits one child, maybe the same size fits another, and maybe a larger size fits the smallest child.

Anyway, I got on one of my favorite Mom sites, Mamasource, and it's sister site Mamapedia, and begged the other moms to give me some advice as to how I could label my kids' shirts so I knew whose was whose. I didn't want to use their initials, because as one outgrows a shirt I want to pass it along to the next one without having to scratch out an initial in permanent ink.

One mom gave me this advice: "Using either dots or small lines, mark your oldest child's clothing with one line, next child with two lines, next with three, and so on. So, when you pass on the clothing to the next child, you can just add a line."


That. Was. Brilliant. For some reason I feel so much smarter now. Not that it was my idea, but every time I fold clothes and I see those little lines, I smile and give myself a mental high five. This also works for my two boys who like to buy shirts that are exactly the same. Actually, my younger son likes to look like his older brother and it drives the older brother crazy, but that's for another post...

Maybe you can benefit from my (borrowed) genius!

Perspective: It's a Beautiful Thing

So, it's been 5 weeks since I wrote this post about Linus. And, about how I was about to lose my mind. I thought you all might want to know what's been going on in our house since then. SO MANY of you lifted me up with your comments, suggestions, advice, and prayers. I really felt them all and I am so thankful.

I feel like I have turned this situation over and over in my head a hundred times. I've looked at it from every angle. I've tried to figure out if the whole situation that day was a product of me being stressed out, or Linus being stressed out, or a lack of normalcy in our family manifesting itself into bad behavior. I have tried to be open-minded about Linus' behavior, because to shut my eyes to it and say, "Oh, he's just a rambunctious boy" is the worst possible solution. If he's misbehaving because he wants attention, then ignoring the behavior altogether will just make him turn up the misbehaving a few notches until he sees how far he has to go to get the attention he wants. On the other hand, I don't want to jump the gun and sign him up for 5 hours of therapy a week just because he is a bit more uncontrollable than my other two older children who, by the way, are very compliant and obedient.

So, here's how everything went down: I had the horrible day with Linus, which was really just the last straw in a month-long string of resistant and out-of-control behavior for him. He has always been my kid who pushed the envelope with my patience, but the month of June was extra tough for us. That whole month we were on vacation in St. Louis, Florida, and two different towns in Illinois. Texan Papa wasn't with us, so it was up to me to manage behavior for all 4 kids. Once we got home, Texan Papa went to Boy Scout Camp with Charlie Brown for 3 days, again leaving me by myself. I really had reached my limit of trying to deal with the kids and I think Linus had reached his limit of being told to "just TRY to behave."

Linus said he was really going to hurt his sister Peppermint Patty. His words were scary and awful. At the time, I freaked out; I worried that I had a future sociopath on my hands. But I also recognized that his words did not match with his actions AT ALL. He said some pretty mean and threatening things, but he has never pushed her down, hit her with an instrument, drawn scary pictures, etc. I called my pediatrician, I called my friend who's a pediatrician and a Christian, I called Focus on the Family, and I called the local ER. (Yes, I was a bit over the edge. It happens.) I think God really intervened because on my way to leave to take Linus to the ER to get him evaluated by a psychologist, my car battery was dead. Baby Sally had climbed up into my car and turned on the power without starting the car. So, I had to pause & collect my thoughts and try to get my car jump-started. This whole time while I was making phone calls and figuring out what to do, I left Linus in his room. And know what he did? Just sat quietly, played with stuffed animals, didn't try to come out of his room, and didn't throw a fit. By the time I got my car started I had calmed down, and I decided to just at least wait until Texan Papa got home from Boy Scout camp, which was supposed to be the next day (but he actually came home early, that evening, and I was so relieved.)

I did decide to at least get him an appointment with a psychologist for testing or evaluation or whatever it is that they do. I don't have any experience with psychologists, so it was all new to me. I made an appointment for late July and waited.

Also, in early July, I got a prescription for Prozac from my doctor. I decided to go ahead and fill it and I'm glad I did. At first I couldn't notice any difference but now I notice that I'm still having hard days, but it doesn't feel like I'll die from being unable to cope with the stress. I can deal with the daily messes and not fall apart. Plus (and this has been wonderful) I used to wake up every single morning with the full weight of the world on my shoulders. I would start every day with thoughts like, "Is that person mad at me? Did I pay that bill yet? Do I have any overdue library books? What am I going to make for dinner tonight that my family will actually eat?" But now I just wake up happy, ready to handle the day. That one result is worth taking the medication for now. I'll have to re-evaluate later, but right now it's working for me.

So, fast-forward to the psychology appointment. It actually was not an appointment for Linus but rather a parent-interview for me and TP. I was afraid I'd have a big fight on my hands with him... that he'd go on about how psychologists are quacks and they only want to fill Linus up with meds so that they can say they've diagnosed him. I just wanted someone with an objective point of view to look at what was going on and give me some advice. It's so hard to be objective about my own kids and I needed someone to give me some direction about what the range of "normal" is and where did Linus lie in that range. Surprisingly, the appointment went really well. TP was open to answering the doctor's questions (Yes, she was a Ph.D.) and very forthcoming about our personal family history. Not that we have any skeletons in our closet, but everyone has things they don't like to discuss unless there's a good reason.

And, at the end, the doctor told us, "Well, you were referred to me because I thought you wanted your son tested for ADHD but from what you're telling me, he doesn't really fall into the ADHD category. I mean, yes he's impulsive and yes, he has some issues dealing with his anger. And if you want him tested of course I can always test him for ADHD along with many other things. Or, if you want, I can refer you for counseling. Whatever you want to do." I just asked her opinion, do you think he's dangerous to himself or others? Do you think this is something I NEED to do, or would it just be helpful? She said, "No - he doesn't sound dangerous to me, especially since he's never even come close to acting on anything he's said. It sounds more like the issue is not with him being violent, but rather that the issue is with his older sister" (since he's never threatened anyone else in our family or outside our family). WHOA - lightbulb moment.

So, here's what I kinda decided to do, since Texan Papa has said from the beginning that he is just interested in supporting me in this journey. He doesn't think we need any intervention at all. At least he's supportive though: I am going to wait until school starts and everyone gets back into a regular schedule. I'm going to watch Linus' behavior and try to give him a bit more positive attention. And, I'm going to try to instigate some fun activities for Linus and Peppermint Patty so that (hopefully) their relationship will improve.

School starts for us in two weeks (August 24th). I'm so glad. As of now, I feel a little bit more relaxed and not so sad anymore. Actually, as I'm typing, I am realizing that it's been a while since I've cried. Earlier in the summer I was a blubbering mess about 40% of the time. I think it's great that I can now control my emotions a little better. I don't know if that makes me weaker that I can't just "will myself" into better control of my emotions, but I'm so tired of finding new ways to blame myself for my failures that I'm just going to let this one slide. Instead I'm going to be happy and thankful that I was able to get over my stereotyping thoughts about "people who take meds". I'm grateful that my child is full of life and not suffering from some terminal illness. I'm learning from him, maybe more than he is learning from me. And that is one blessing of motherhood that I never expected.

Flashback Friday: Children are Like White Carpeting

I am participating in Scary Mommy's Flashback Friday, where we resurrect an old post for some more comment luvin'.

This one never got much attention, I guess, although I know it's a favorite of Bridgett. Hope y'all like it!

(Originally posted July 4, 2008)

Children are like White Carpeting

Children are like white carpeting.

In the beginning, when it is brand new, it is clean and fresh and smells nice. We are very careful not to get it dirty because it's NEW! and DELICATE! We love to just look at the white carpeting because it is so pretty, and we just KNOW it was the right decision to get it.

Before too long, though, we realize that having white carpeting is much more work than we'd expected. There is lots of new rules about the carpeting. We tell people who visit our house that when they get near the carpeting they must take special care. We are almost afraid of offending others about it, but after all it's our VERY SPECIAL CARPETING. Everyone says how beautiful our carpeting is and we agree because, of course, it is.

Inevitably, though, something happens to the carpeting. Nothing major, mind you, but a small mar none the less. We clean it up as best we can, but for the rest of our time with the carpeting we will always see that small reminder of the time an accident happened. We cover it with an area rug, or a piece of furniture, but when that small mar is exposed, we are reminded. But over time, the mar is no longer a sad reminder of something unfortunate; rather it calls up a memory of a time so long ago when the carpeting was fresh and nearly new. The white carpeting continues to get stains and spills and dirt and no matter how much we try to protect the carpeting, life happens to it all the same.

Years go by, and as the carpeting loses its brightness to the untrained eye, we do not notice any dulling in the least. We see the carpet as it was when it was installed. It still looks as beautiful today as it did 18 years ago.

Then, one day, the carpet starts to pull up from the floor and lose its foothold. It seems that it is time for the carpeting to go. But we're not quite ready for our house without the white carpeting, so we try to keep things the same as long as possible.

Finally we realize that the carpeting has had a good run in our house and that it's time to let go. We help the carpeting movers take the carpeting out of the rooms and we watch as it is hauled away. It is a little bit sad, thinking about all the important events that went on with the carpeting: birthdays, family time together, slumber parties, forts built with pillows and blankets.

When the day comes for us to get new floor covering, we try to decide: Hardwood? Laminate? Tile? In the end, we decide that we really love the white carpeting. And before you know it, there is a brand new white carpeting in our house, only this one is a blend of the carpeting we had before and a new fiber. It is so special and beautiful, we know we will try to protect it even more than the last white carpet.

Life will happen, and we will be right there, maybe a little wiser this time.

Doin' It

I was reading a post on anymommy's blog recently, where she answers the question "How do you do it?" I get that question a lot. Actually, it mostly comes in the form of a simple statement, "I don't know how you do it."

My response is usually the same: "Many days, I don't"

What I mean by this is simple: What one person considers laziness or neglect, I would consider coping. I've realized that this isn't really a good thing. While I love to be witty and often use self-deprecating humor, I long ago realized the danger in trying to do it all, simply for the sake of saying I can. Let me give you my flashback that will forever be ingrained in my memory:

I was living in Wisconsin, 6 hours from my in-laws and 10 hours from my family. We had recently bought our first house, which was over 100 years old, and it needed a bunch of work. My husband was working the standard 40 hours a week, but every extra hour was pretty much spent on fixing up our house. I had given birth to our third child, our son Linus, when Charlie Brown was 18 months old and Peppermint Patty was 37 months old. For three years now, I had been juggling motherhood with moving around (being a pastor's wife) and also trying to figure out what kind of a wife and mother I was. While the act of caring for a family came quite naturally, I had a really hard time figuring out where *I* fit into that equation. Any time I wanted or needed time for myself I felt very selfish, like my family would suffer because of my self-indulgent desires.

Just before Linus turned 1 year old, in the fall of 2003, I took all 3 kids to a fall festival at a farm, all by myself. There were all sorts of fun activities: farm animals to pet, a hay-bale maze, a pumpkin patch, a sand box with buried treasure (pennies) to keep, etc. On the way home, all 3 kids fell asleep in the car. The sound of silence was glorious! I passed an outlet mall with a Carter's store that was having a big tent sale. I could not remember the last time I had gone shopping without the kids. So, I stopped at the tent sale, and I left my kids in the car with the engine running, to keep the A/C on while they slept. I parked very close to the tent and looked over to the van every once in a while, just to keep an eye on them.

Now, before you get too scared, this story does not have a bad ending, just the possibility of a bad ending. I picked out a bunch of stuff to buy. I can't even remember how long I was browsing... it was probably a lot longer than I remember because time without kids just flies by. But, I had to go inside the store to pay for the items. When I came out of the store, a security guard was by my car, calling someone on her walkie-talkie. I don't know if it was the police or just her supervisor or what. But I knew in that instant that I'd gone too far. I'd been too remiss about the possibility of something bad happening to my kids.

The entire drive home I bawled my eyes out. I felt like I had put my children into the mouth of a lion. I felt like I had betrayed their trust. And, the sad part was that I knew why I had done it... I was simply too exhausted to care anymore. I had lost ALL perspective about what was best or most important, because my maternal instincts had turned into "fight or flight" and I was fleeing. I wanted nothing more than to throw off the responsibilities of fixing formula bottles and making sure no one had a potty accident. My limit had been reached, but I was too weak or too afraid to just beg someone for help. Really, I guess, I didn't know who to ask for help.

When a person is in the middle of a crisis, often it is too hard for them to recognize that the situation is a crisis before it's too late. It took me getting to the point where I could have been reported to the police for child neglect, before I realized what the better/smarter/safer option was. I was so focused on being a good mother, being a good wife, and looking to the outside world as if it was all a piece of cake, that I completely lost control of everything.

There have been times since then that I've screwed up as a parent. Not in a small way, mind you. I've lost my child at the zoo twice, once walked away from the baby at the store (not realizing I was one child short until at the checkout line), and once forgot a child buckled in the car in the Texas summer (but I remembered about 30 seconds later). And so the moral of this story is not that I'm trying to excuse my behavior. Because believe me, I'm not. The moral is that I am not perfect, and (lightbulb moment) I should really not expect myself to be perfect. Nor should I expect others to be perfect. Nor should others expect me to be perfect. The only result of that is an inevitable let-down. My little failures - and my big ones - are no longer catastrophic events. I have quit beating myself up and I have learned how to forgive myself. When I screw up, I still get angry with myself, but I try to figure out if there was something I could have done differently and I want to learn from it. I'm also more open to advice from other people about parenting. I try not to get defensive when people offer suggestions, because doing something the same way over and over but expecting a different result is pure insanity. I have realized that parenting is not an exact science; it's all about what works for one family as a whole and also for the individuals in that family. No solution is one-size-fits-all.

Sometimes, this summer, I've spent too much time on the computer. Sometimes, my kids have spent too much time in front of the t.v. But sometimes I've let them fight over Legos because at least they weren't staring at the boob-tube. And, sometimes we've gone out and spent too much money because at least we were all spending time together. It's all a delicate balance. So delicate, in fact, that there are times that I'm afraid my house of cards will collapse. But, at the same time, I pray that my family has gotten a strong enough foundation to survive my parenting skills!

This post is from a Writing Prompt by Lulaville, hosted by MamaKat's Writer's Workshop

School of Socialism

It's that time of year again... the rush for school supplies has begun at all the retailers. I wrote a post about this very subject last year and I guess it's time again for my annual diatribe concerning the exhaustive list of "necessary" items to be purchased for school.

This drives me CRAZY every year. And, I was a teacher. I was actually concerned about how much my families had to spend. I didn't want to burden them with too many specific or expensive requirements. Usually the kids in my class could get by with looseleaf paper and a pencil, and a binder of some sort. When did the teachers lose sight of how much money it costs to outfit each child with the specific items on every list? And, we're sending our kids to public school this year, so I am surprised that every family in the school district can actually afford the mountain of paper, pens, and glue.

My kids have to bring so much crap that it makes my blood boil. 3 packages of construction paper? REALLY? I better not be giving all that construction paper so the teacher can make a bunch of bulletin boards. And how about having to provide crayons for the art teacher? Exactly what does she do with her budget??? And sharpie markers? C'mon... please don't tell me that my kid is actually going to use a sharpie marker. That is obviously for the teacher. That is probably the thing that makes me the most angry - when we (parents) start providing things that we shouldn't have to pay for (and neither should the teachers! THE SCHOOL SHOULD PAY FOR THEM!!!!) Things like kleenex, hand sanitizer, paper towels, etc. I mean, how long will it be before we have to start providing toilet paper for our own children to use in the bathroom to wipe their butts?

And, I have to ask, how many of you have faced this situation: you are asked to buy a ton of something (pencils, crayons, markers, paper, whatever) and NOT label it because it is all going to be thrown into a communal pile for everyone to use and share. HOW DOES THIS TEACH PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY???? Why should my daughter pick up a pencil that she sees lying on the ground? In theory, they should learn to do that to help the society (class) as a whole. But in 4th grade or 2nd grade or kindergarten, kids are just going to ignore that pencil on the ground and GO GET A NEW PENCIL FROM THE BOX!!!! Plus, why should I buy my kid the high-quality pencils when they are going to get thrown in with everyone else's pencils?

When Peppermint Patty was in first grade, I bought her a new box of 24 pencils. (This was at our former school in IL). I labeled every pencil with her initials. At the end of the year, she brought home over half of those pencils, and the next year - in second grade - I sent those same pencils back with her to school. She made it through the whole second year with those pencils. So, TWO DOZEN pencils lasted her TWO years. Now, tell me again, why should I have to provide three dozen pencils every new fall for my child? I know she is responsible for them. Why should I provide extras for the kids who aren't responsible for theirs?

And please, teachers, if you're reading this, PLEASE don't tell me how hard it is to get kids to keep track of their own belongings. Don't you think we already know that? We're their parents!!! And, if they lose their belongings, do the parents expect the teacher to replace them? No, of course not. The parents have to replace them. The student's work may suffer for their own lack of responsibility, but (gasp) it's a life lesson to be learned. If my kid needs colored pencils for a project and he left his at home, then I guess he'll turn his project in late, or have to share with someone else, or get a zero. I think the bottom line is that we (adults) should be doing what is best for the kids, not what is easiest for us. Yeah, sometimes it's a pain in the butt and often times it causes an extra argument. But, I'm a firm believer that the most learning happens from pain.

It is never ending... the school folders must be PLAIN! In red, blue, and green! NO YELLOW OR ORANGE. And crayons, 24 only please. No jumbos. Must be washable. No 48's or 64's. Drawing paper - loose, not in a tablet please. Lined paper... wide-ruled, not college ruled. And the clothing... polo shirts. No logos over 1 and a half inch. Pants with belt loops must have a belt with a buckle - no tied belts. Shoes with shoelaces must have laces that are white or the same color as the shoe.

So, here's what I've got: a school... where all my kids' stuff will be piled together with everyone else's stuff and given out to anyone who needs it... and quality of stuff is not considered... and everyone gets what the teacher gives them.... and who cares if you can bring nicer stuff to school because there's no guarantee you'll get something any better than the next person...

Is it just me, or does this sound a little bit like the proposed National health-care "solution"?

(images courtesy of Google Images)

Garage Sale Convert

I love to talk about how cheap I am. And how I love a good deal. And how I'd never pay full price for anything. But, I'm afraid, I may be turning a corner.

My very most favorite place to shop is a local resale store that has tons of clothes, toys, housewares, etc. all organized very well by size (and sometimes color too). The clothes are usually only current seasonal clothes. And all the profits benefit a local children's home. Shopping at this store fulfills my need to avoid paying full price while, at the same time, satisfies my burning desire to find that one "diamond in the rough" - the item that some person donated but is still in excellent condition and would be worth 10 times its resale price when purchased new.

Shopping at resale stores goes hand-in-hand with children. I have long believed that it is silly to outfit my children in the latest full-price fashions with name-brand labels when they could (and very likely will) get stains on it that include ketchup, chocolate, blood, boogers, vomit, and poop. And sometimes not even their own.

However, since my children have gotten older, the darndest thing has been happening.... they are growing more slowly. And their clothes are needing to last a little bit longer. Years ago, my children never wore out their clothes because their ankles started showing beneath the pants hems before they ever wore out the knees. And their little belly buttons were sticking out the bottom of the shirts before I could worry about mending a ripping seam. But now? The hand-me-down pants that have already had one owner just aren't holding up to the test of time like I need them to. It also seems that little boys (mine anyway) have a knack for finding the perfect terrain upon which to scrape their knees and elbows. Most of their jeans, khaki pants, and sweatpants are threadbare.

So, this year, I am going to dig deep and pay a little bit more for brand new school clothes for my kids. Plus, I hate to admit it, but many of those brand-name labels that I swore were not worth the bigger price tag have actually been the rare items of clothing that has survived an entire season at the Texan Household. It looks like I may need to cut back a little spending on the school supplies. Sorry, Mrs. Gonzalez, you're going to have to make due with only 2 boxes of tissues from each of my kids instead of the requested 4. (By the way, what's up with that? Does the school pay for ANYTHING anymore? Don't get me started...)

Mind Your Beeswax

I can't even tell you how much I hate the commentary on my children from complete strangers when we are out in public.

(as the baby is screaming) "Aww, looks like someone is unhappy" (while making a big fake frowny face). GEE NO SHIT SHERLOCK. GOT ANYTHING HELPFUL TO ADD???

"Wow, you've sure got your hands full." Yes. I do. Are you offering to help? No? Then go away.

Today, on my inaugural trip to Sam's Club - yes, I took the plunge - I (stupidly) agreed to let my kids each have a turn playing Spore on the display computers. This meant that Baby Sally would only be entertained by running up and down the aisle between the books and the DVD's. She wasn't running into anyone, and she wasn't making a mess, and she wasn't running out of eyesight. I stood at the end of the aisle and watched her run up and down, up and down, up and down - she never left my purview. Burning off some energy, so what do I care? Also, just at that moment, a friend called me on my cell phone, so I wasn't even driving or eating a hamburger or lighting a cigarette or anything.

So some sourpuss granny comes up and says, "IS SHE YOURS?" I tell her politely, "Yes, I'm watching her. I know what she's doing." and she says, "Well, you're not her dad."

At this point I wonder what her point is. I've got breasts, a pregnant belly, and medium-longish blond hair. No 5-o'clock shadow and not-very-hairy legs. Was there some gender confusion I wasn't aware of?

"No, her dad is at work. I'm their mom." To which SPG (Sour Puss Granny) tells me, "Well she's running around yelling for 'da-da... da-da... da-da'."

Now, first of all, it was none of this lady's business. If the Baby were doing something dangerous, or if she looked upset, or lost, or was destroying something, then I say YES, GET INVOLVED. DON'T CRITICIZE BUT LEND A HELPING HAND. However, the Baby was not in any of those situations. She was giggling and running. Period.

Second of all, this nit-wit obviously knows zilch about baby language. "da-da" could mean, "I just crapped my pants" or "I want that" or "chase me! chase me!" or (like in this case) she was yelling for her brother.

Third of all, when did people become so intolerant of children? This lady was wearing orthopedic shoes and shouldered a vinyl purse hugged closely to her chest, so obviously she was well into her retirement years. Did she have no grandchildren? Did she have no children of her own? OR has she forgotten that children are not inherently wicked? ESPECIALLY CUTIE PATOOTIE CHILDREN THAT LOOK LIKE THIS?
I am not so ignorant that I believe my children to be angels. But I also know when they are being naughty, disrespectful, or unsafe, none of which she was doing. All my baby was doing was having fun. All I was doing was watching her have fun and talking on my phone.

But the look this woman gave me said, "You are an irresponsible mother. You are more concerned about your cell phone than you are about your children bothering other shoppers. Your children are a menace."

And the look I gave her said, "Piss off. I need 2 gallons of pancake syrup and a case of Chef Boyaredee Ravioli and I'm not going to let your evil eye intimidate me."

Sometimes I really hate people. Maybe that's why I like blogging so much. Maybe that's why I can't bring myself to go to a big blogging convention. That would involve people possibly not liking me to my face, instead of just unsubscribing. Sheesh I hope I don't become agoraphobic.

Thanks Green Thumbies!

It has been a couple of months since I wrote this post about the stuff growing in my back yard. I'm happy to report that things are going better.

All those tall leafy things growing? Well, they were Irises, I think. They were really taking over my ground-cover area. I have been told that they propagate like crazy, and I guess they've been just doing their own thing for a few years now. I got kinda sick 'n tired of waiting for them to flower (which never happened) so one hot July day I just started digging them up. And, man, the bulbs were just lying on top of each other. No wonder they weren't doing too well. I immediately pictured 20 people trying to live inside a walk-in closet. So, I dug up most of the plants. At first I just yanked them up and threw them away, but after a while I used a little more care and dug up the bulbs along with the leaves. I replanted about a dozen in another location.

The rest of the plants I put on Freecycle. I was shocked that I got about 5 responses within an hour of posting the notice. And, of the plants that got pulled up by the leaves only, well the bulbs left behind underground have already sprouted new leaves again! So now I need to decide if I want to go ahead and pull up those plants too (I think I do) or just leave them to grow.

Also, I decided to cut the creeping vines off my trees. I thought it made them look messy and it was not helping with the overgrowth. So I cut them down.

And finally, I think the weeds that were growing in my ground-cover area are under control, for now. Occasionally I will see a new one pop up, but I just pull it.

I'm learning a lot about what I want and don't want in my next house. Which, at the rate we move, should be sometime next year. Great.