a look into me

I always thought what music you listened to said a lot about you. For that reason I have added my playlist. It says a LOT about me. Everything from classic to rock is in there. Browse and learn more about me.

You could always leave a comment about what you think. I prefer if it is nice, but hey it's my playlist, not everyone is going to love the songs on there like me. But I think it says a lot about me, none the less.

p.s. If you've never heard of Harper Valley Pta, you must listen to it. Listen to the story. Whether you like old country or no country, trust me and listen to it.

Scout's greatest escape

Well, we've been up a little over an hour and it's already been an exciting day. We had another game of chase the pig. This time however, it was a different story. He did not easily come to us. He did not allow himself to be led back to the pen by food. This morning was a comedy of errors.

Let me set the stage for you. Martin walks out of the pig pen while talking to his daddy. He walks towards Honeybear to continue the conversation. Does anyone see th problem here? That's right, he forgot to close the pen! Out RUNS Scout.

Honeybear hollers, and Madison and I turn to look at the problem. Scout has ran into the dog house, he's looking out and Zues, the old man boxer, is looking in. Degan had just put food down, and Zues decides food was more important to save than his house, starts chowing down. All the while he is watching Scout.

While this is unfolding, the rest of us are rearranging ourselves to keep him from getting to the road. Scout, seeing this has, decided the dog house is no sanctuary, and cautiously steps out. Martin ,meanwhile, tries to do as he has seen Honeybear do. He goes to grab Scout's back legs. Only he grabs him around the waist. Scout does not take this action as affection, he squeals and takes off running-WITH MARTIN HOLDING ON FOR DEAR LIFE.

Well, Diesel takes it as a new game. With Martin holding on (he took his mutton busting to heart) Diesel comes along the other side and tries to herd him. Finally Martin lets go, and rolls about three times before he comes to a stop. This causes Diesel to stop and come bounce on his boy, and I'd like to think check on him. Truth is, probably, he thought he was continuing the game.

Well without either one of his previous encumberments, Scout heads straight for the road. The only two in his path are Bella and me. He's heading for one of us directly-and it ain't me. Bella sees this and starts screaming and running for me. For some odd reason Scout decides he'll change course-directly at Bella and me! I do the one thing that seems rational-I throw Bella at him. Okay, just kidding. I grabbed her and kind of did an oogey-boogey dance and hollered at him.

Alright everyone...get the horrified images out of your head. Anyway, I must have been quite the frightening apparition, 'cause he squealed, dug his heels in, and did a one eighty.

At this point Honeybear, Martin, and Diesel are ready again. Scout sees this and decides to change directions again- only to see me, and apparently I am the more frightening of the two choices. He heads straight for the boys, the whole time making this gaw awful grunting, squealing noise. A challenge perhaps. One Diesel is more than happy to take up. So these two are now running side by side, with D giving him a nip in the shoulders and guiding him the whole way-to the barn.

(Here I will insert that Diesel is an American Bulldog, like Chance off Homeward Bound. They can and are used for farm dogs. Diesel however is ten months old and never been taught anything more challenging than "lay".)Which is probably while doing an excellent job of herding, he got the wrong location.

Now ,at least, Scout is in an enclosed place-the barn. The bad part-in the stir of him getting loose, the drumsticks pen didn't get clasped properly. Three of the larger drumsticks took this as an invite to jump out and scratch in the hay pile. So now we have chicks running from Scout, Scout being chased by Diesel, and us frantically trying to pull everyone apart.

This is where I thought about throwing my hands in the air, and shutting the barn and just let nature take it course. We'll just eat whatever is left standing. But fearing Diesel might either be the one left standing or be one of the unfortunate ones consumed. So that wasn't really an option. Honeybear was still trying to grab Scout's legs, Martin was trying to grab D's collar, and the others were frantically trying to grab chicks. I took the situation in hand. I grabbed Diesel the middle threw him out of the barn. Grabbed whatever child I could get a hold of, and throw them out too.

All that is left is Honeybear and Scout. Man vs. Beast. He grabs Scout's back legs (don't forget this is now a hundred some pound animal) and drags him to the pen. I have to say that I was not laughing at this point. But when that pen door slammed, I busted up laughing. Honeybear was not, however.

Oh well, at least we had no need for coffee. Caffeine is a killer, ya know?

changes

Alright everyone. I was fiddling with my templates and such and came across this old farmhouse template. I love the idea, but I'm worried it is to dark. So let me know what ya'all think.

Author's edit: For the next week I will be putting up different templates. When you see one that you like vote for it by either commenting or emailing me. I just can't decide what I like the best.

life of a fourth grader

So I was talking to my girlfriend about relationships. And I mentioned earlier this month was our nine year anniversary (of being together). Her reply was priceless! "Wow! Your relationship is a fourth grader." I laughed until I cried.

So in honor of her answer I thought I would compare our relationship to a fourth grader to find similarities. Ummm let's see. Well, in fourth grade you had homework. I have more homework than in any other part of my life and my study buddy (ya know the one who sits reading comics while you do all the work) is Honeybear. He gets just as much credit as I do, and I do all the work. So yeah, definitely some similarities there.

Then there's the fact that boys where mean to the girls they like in fourth grade. And girls made the boys they liked cupcakes in return. Not much changed there either. He comes in and makes some silly joke then tackles me. Here I have to admit fourth grade I didn't enjoy this, but now :). After a little giggling and beard burn, I present him with dinner. So okay at least two similarities.

In fourth grade everyone believed you could catch cooties from the opposite sex. We have proven this to be true, one, two, three,four times. Yet another similarity of our relationship to a fourth grader.

Hmmm, the mommy makes lunch for you in fourth grade. (Unless of course the cool kids are buying, right?) Well, I am the mommy, and I make everyone lunches-including Honeybear's. I even write him the little note, and make sure he has the right kind of pudding. (Is this proof guys never grow up or proof our relationship is a fourth grader?)

You know I am starting to have flash backs here. I didn't like fourth grade. Maybe this is my way of reliving my childhood. Nah, what fun would it be if I was nine. Actually it'd be kind of weird, I tease Honeybear about being a cradle robber anyways. That would put him in a whole nother category.

Now here's a thought, right now our marriage has been like an elementary schooler, we've grown from the cutesy stage, to the cootie stage,to the bad decision stage, to the growing up stage. Maybe it's not so bad, nine years from now we'll be graduates. Right in time for the cuckoos to start flying the nest. Then it's college time!!!!!!!!

bones, bones, bones

Yes it's that time of year, Halloween!! One of our favorite holidays. Which also seems to somewhat coincide with our study of the skeletal system. And now we are surrounded by skeletons and bones and clambering for more by the kids.

I can't even make dinner without going into talk about what is different about the chicken skeleton and human skeletons. Needless to say, I am having nightmares about dancing skeletons.

We have put chicken bones in vinegar to be able to tie them in knots, made macaroni skeletons. Then we've discussed the differences in dog, fish, cat, pig, chicken, monkey, and any other animal the kids think of.

I have a feeling this Halloween trick or treating might go a little different this year. Instead of the "Hey nice costume" comments the kids are going to start scrutinizing the other kids' costumes. "I don't think you have all 206 bones accounted for." "Your cranium doesn't have the proper skeletal boundaries." You get the point. I'm sure a fist fight is bound to break out when they tell the other children skeletons can't walk about without muscles attached.

Why do my children have to have as many details as possible on any given subject? How in the world do they manage to remember so many of them? They can't remember three tasks in a row here. You know the ones I'm talking about. "Go get your shoes, wash your face and grab your jacket." Do they ever come back with all three done? No and sometimes they get them mixed up and wipe their faces with their shoes apparently. I haven't ever witnessed this, but somehow their faces are dirtier than when they went to do as told.

(Hey another mystery of motherhood: How does a perfectly clean and well dressed child manage to get dirty in a sterile room? Two of mine could get dirty riding a mile in a carseat from house to church.)

Anyway back to skeletons, now the boys ,who have an extensive collection of skulls and hides (hillbilly decorations), want to frame Gypsy Roses' x-ray for their room. People already shudder when they hear the boys speak of their collection. They love to take their friends into the "butcher shop" at Pops' and show off all of his skulls and hides. (The man has to have 50 deer heads not to mention buffalo, goat, pig, and various hides.) We let them hang up a framed x-ray, people are going to start thinking we're the family off of Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It doesn't help Degan loves and adores Halloween masks. He's the only three year old I've ever known who prefers grotesque masks to cutesy costumes. (The year he was three he decided to dress in camo with a grotesque mask for a face. He still had it till two weeks ago when he accidentally left it outside and it got hit by the mower.)

If this keeps up people will think we're crazy (once they get to know us they know its true, but still.)

the high road

Well it's Monday, yay! (Can you read my enthusiasm?) No, wonder why? Oh yeah I was up till three this morning and am running on all of like three hours of sleep. Why Sheena, you ask. My family. No, they weren't up. No, they aren't sick. They are scattered.

And if they hide my teacher's log book again they will be punished scatterbrains. As of right now I am to tired to do more than give them a half-hearted frown, and raised eyebrow at their innocent professings.

For the last week I have listened to Honeybear tell me to quit being so scattered. (That's how long it's been missing.) And at first I believed he was right. (Hey I am scattered. I know it, you know it, it's just a fact of life.) But as the day turned to a week of being without my right hand. I knew I did not do anything that scattered.

Here I will explain for all you layman's who don't homeschool. My teacher's log book has just about everything important to my life in it. (Sans the chocolate and computer.) It has the the lesson plans, the log of what we actually accomplish, and all my important reminders in it. You know everything needed to function day to day. Kind of like a to do list. It is carried with me at all times so I can note any spontaneous lessons. (Don't look at me like that, like I will remember when I sit down five hours later.)

Now as I was saying after a week I knew I didn't just lay it down somewhere and forget it. So the searching became somewhat frantic. (We have about five hundred logged hours in there, that's half the school year equivalent.) Yes there was time to still make the hours for the year that's not the point. I spend hours planning my lessons, down to the page number and it's all written in that book.

I started searching the kids' rooms. (I don't consider an invasion of privacy looking for my belongings.) And after finding several dirty socks, half eaten sandwiches, a whole bag of guinea pig food we accused the store of keeping, and the hamster we thought the dog ate last year. NO BOOK!

My husband still shook his head and reiterated my thoughtlessness as the cause. Did I mention that at this point these comments were met with scathing looks and not so nice thoughts. It took restraint but I refrained from reminding him of all the things he has lost or forgot. Namely me once. And magically restrained myself from throwing the frying pan in my hand too.

Finally yesterday I found my book. ON HIS NIGHTSTAND!!!!!!!!!!!! Under a hunting magazine. I clearly remembered him reviewing the kids objectives after quizzing and realized it was HIS thoughtlessness that lost my book. I did a happy dance and held it over my head. Which then caused Bella, who was helping me to make my bed, to start shaking her booty.

When I held my book victoriously in front and told him where I found it. He shrugged and said why would you leave it there, instead of putting it up. My face fell. But it gave me a chance to take the high road. So I did what any self respecting person would do I turned-and did my happy dance. Then made up a you were so wrong song to go with it.

Did I mention the kids all joined in? No well they did. Somehow Honeybear was not as amused as the rest of us. He just shook his head and tried to hide his grin. Hey at least I know I was right. Even if he's going to hide it.

This was short lived. For when I went to transfer my logging from notebook paper to the log book it was gone. AGAIN!!!!!! Of course this caused Honeybear to laugh and raise an eyebrow at me. I wanted to lay on the floor and beat my fists screaming, "This is not my fault!" Somehow I once again found restraint. It was close but I just managed.

After much searching it was found under the heathen's bathroom sink. At this point the "children" are in bed. It's late and I have yet to catch up on my paper work. So now you know why I was up till three.

All I have to say is- Next person who touches my log book, pulls back a nub! You have been warned.

around the barnyard

I have promised pictures of my favorite chicken, Porky, as of yet I have not yet been able to get any good ones. She's a sly little bird, and every time I think she's going to sit still long enough to snap one she moves. I swear she knows I am trying my darndest to get a good pic of her. So I just started snapping everyone.


Here's the infamous chicken murderer,Scout. Somehow it isn't going to hurt my feeling a bit to eat this one.


Whoo hoo found a pic of Porky as a baby. Her markings are not obvious in this.


And this here was the famous Rooster Cogburn. r.i.p.


Here's the gang. Big Red, Little Red, Brownie, and Porky.


Here's the little drumsticks fighting over feed. This bunch amuses me they were so little they kept getting stuck in the feeder so we had to give them the dog dish.

Tomorrow maybe I'll show ya pics of my babies. If this post works.

P.s. This is for you Ms. Kathie.

school of Scooby

On the weekends we are suppose to take a break from school. Notice the word suppose in that sentence. However my children refuse to accept this as fact. Everyday is school to them. Which okay they might have gotten that from somewhere, but still can't we just take the chance to watch mindless t.v. on the weekend!?! Of course not. Here follows the lessons in Scooby-Doo according to the kids at least.

First life lessons dogs identify each other through scent-usually in their bums. Here Degan piped up with, "But we don't do that as peoples." Thank goodness for that thread of grasping. But they still insist that if you get a large enough dog they can and will eat the same plate of food as them-at the dinner table. Okay so one science fact and one point in the craziness.

Then of course there was the health lesson. Shaggy obviously has no grasp of the food pyramid, this one came from Martin. To which Madison nodding in agreement added, yeah he's gonna get a tummy ache. And Degan then said he should eat more veggies, they help you...errr um digest. That of course wasn't what was said but I'm sure you can figure it out. He is four almost five. So we have some science, we have some health, and we have some good ol' social skills developing here.

But do you think we're done? No the movies only been on for five minutes. FIVE MINUTES, and I have already had two discussions that somehow involved bums and poop. Let those credits roll please! As we moved on with the movie there was a lot of things the kids pointed out that I thought was just silly. But they did learn a nonexistent perodic element (randomonium), learned how to take a fingerprint, and that doorbells are sometimes rigged. That mad scientist can't fly, and explained why his jail house wings were designed with flaws. And that usually the bad guy is named old man ___________.

So this is how we end up with our questions that we decide to research most the time. Or emphasis a point we have been working on. Now aren't your kids jealous their school doesn't include Scooby Doo.

oh is she deaf

We got that asked alot when our baby "spoke" mostly with hands at about 9 months old. Just last week someone brought up baby sign language in their blog.(Natalie at Mommy of a Monster here's her link http://www.mommyofamonster.com/2010/09/sign-language.html ) And I of course I am adamant that it is one of the greatest things you can do for your baby. For one reason and one reason only. It could have very well saved our baby girl, Bella.

But I thought I would share some great scenarios in which it becomes a great tool.

Scenario one-Church
Anyone with kids are aware their attention spans are about 3.2 seconds long. You mix that with tight uncomfortable church clothes, and an hour long sermon, you have chaos. And lots of bathroom breaks. But instead of reaching over two other kids to get to the one acting up and having to harshly whisper. Then repeat louder and end the "or I'm gonna swat your hiney" right when the preacher takes a breath and all is quiet. Well you get my point. Imagine being able to give the stink eye with a severe sign and they know you mean business. Loooove it.

Scenario two-running into that person you really don't like
You know the mom that's kid is constantly breaking your kids' toys. That drops their kid off for a playdate and doesn't come back until an hour after the agreed time. The one whose phone calls you have started avoiding, and everytime they do catch you you're just sooooo busy. And your kids have heard your not so nice remarks.

Then you run into them at the store. You smile sweetly and listen to their account of how Li'l Johnny has been doing this and that. And then they ask if you want to get together.*rolls eyes And you notice your sweet little one about to open their mouth. Instead of drawing attention to him by tackling him and covering his mouth as you reply. You just give him a sign that the "friend" construes as one of your wild hand gestures. And manage to dodge another bullet. Thank you sign language.

Scenario 3-that weirdo whose name you can't remember
Your baby is getting into the whole no one is a stranger phrase. As long as you're near of course. You see that aquaintance that's name escapes you. They greet you warmly, you greet them with "Heeey, you." And your daughter looks at you questioningly trying to decide from your tone if she should cry or giggle. You discreetly make the friend sign, and she happily gurgles at him. No embarrassment over "Oh gosh she just doesn't remember you thing." Yeah not as good as the other two but it did happen.

Then of course there's the kids secret language. They love being able to "talk" and no one else get what they are saying. Which can annoy their daddy who isn't quite as prolific in sign language, and which just amuses them more.

And when I lost my hearing last year, and annoyed Honeybear with my inability to tell how loud or quiet I was being. Martin could tell his daddy what I wanted and we bonded even more over that.

Now we haven't used it in a couple of months (in day to day life) cause Bella didn't want to anymore with her language skills improving. So we are just getting back into the swing of things, and loving it. Although charades isn't much fun with the kids anymore-they cheat.

wanted:

Has anyone ever considered the exact qualifications to be a perfect mama? The qualifications change as the child grows so lets look at what a help wanted ad might look like for a newborn mommy.

Position available-Must run on two hours sleep, wake up at the sound of a sigh, and be able to navigate in the dark without waking up hubby. Be able to take ten second showers while baby dozes. Understand differences in pain, hunger, tired, and bored cries. Be able to clean house while carrying sleeping infant without waking, and catch all spit up on clothing without cringing. Days off are unavailable till six months of age when you're finally willing to let hubby take over for a ten minute shower. Will consider a pedatrician or ER doctor.

Now of course this beautiful baby will change into a crawling or walking toddler. One with an appetite and chewing habits of a puppy. So of course another ad will need to be placed.

Wanted- Flexible woman needed, should be able to run all day on left overs and coffee. Must have six sets of hands able to catch a falling knick knack, pull a toddler from a shelf, and remove the antique chess piece from said toddlers mouth and hands. Quick reflexes, and psychic abilities a must. Must not mind no space in bed, also no covers, and of course crumbs from graham crackers as well. Vacations available when you can replace yourself with your own mother.

Now of course this stage lasts for maybe a year, but then you reach that awe inspiring pre-school stage. Where you now must not only care for your beautiful child but become their teacher as well.

Seeking- A smart, loving, eager to teach woman. College Education a must, masters desired, bachelors acceptable. Be able to equally teach and keep a child interested. Playing on the floor, and outside with heavy lifting required. Balanced education plan sought must be able to teach basics along with music, arts, foreign language, sports, and morals. Multi-tasking may be required as a new bundle of joy is joining us soon (or has already joined). Will expect child prepped for college by the fall.

Now this is as far as I have gotten cause after the third one I started drinking heavily and most days are just a blur. (Kidding, seriously I don't drink.) But after this point my qualifications are quite different than normal so I am not sure exactly the guidelines for mamas now. But I will take a shot at it. But teenagers are waaay out of my scope so it ends with elementary schoolers.

Desperately Seeking- Someone to help with homework, need answers to the chapters on Civil War, Earth Science, and fractions. Able to look through walls and stop children in their tracks. Eyes in the back of the head to see what animal is being snuck into bed. Eat only once a day, and manage to sneak vegetables into cookies. Look a child straight in the eyes and finish an arguement with "Because I said". Also bonus in it if you can track down Everyone Else's mother and kill her without witnesses or leaving a trail behind.

That last one would be mentioned in the interview, wouldn't want to leave a trail behind.

haphazard ramblings

By request of my mother I deleted my last posting. Afraid it was to much information. And afraid of reactions, so to Mama sorry. And if it offended anyone sorry. It was what was on my mind.

Now onward with my ramblings. Good news first-I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!!!!-not. But it seems to be in the water so gives me a reason to drink more pop.

Another interesting thing-Martin has homework from boy scouts?! He has to have a famous American and a tall tale by Monday. His choices; Walt Disney and Roanoke colony. He wanted to talk about Roanoke for the famous American, but the troop leader (an elementary principal) didn't know who Roanoke colony was. So when we told him he said it was more tall tale material. Then suggested a president for the FA. Martin decided he wanted an artist, then changed his mind to some one with dyslexia. We found both in Walt Disney. I didn't even know he was dyslexic or from Missouri.

So Martin is excited and we decided Monday we all would give an oral report on a famous American. Good practice for Martin, and I can't wait to see who Madison and Degan pick.

Scout the pig is now about a hundred and some pounds so by this time next month we should have fresh bacon. YAY! Maybe then the chickens will be safe.

The fall garden is a bust. We just have not had the time or energy to get it planted. We did however dig up our sweet potatos this week. Pitiful harvest. A couple of nice ones then a couple no bigger around than pencils. Honeybear was not amused when I asked if he accidentally planted carrots.

We have moved to a body system that is harder to embarrass me in public. Except Honeybear keeps mentioning Ro breaking her coxxus. Like he has room to talk, he separated his shoulder sledding. Last year!

Well it's naptime, so it's cleaning time.

conversations with the wall

No the kids have not driven me that nuts, unless talking to the computer counts. I'm talking about children, of course, children! The things they somehow never hear and the amazing things they do.

Case in point I have mentioned before, while at the in-law's they repeatedly ignored us telling them not to use the play grocery cart as a derby car. But Grammy sneaks off to get ice cream, and starts scooping in a discreet spot. And here the kids come on the run. With Martin's exclamation of "I can hear ice cream being scooped three miles away!" But he couldn't hear us repeatedly telling him to knock it off, in louder and louder voices.

It doesn't matter what the situation is, you tell them to pick up their toys, knock off the rough housing, or do as your told, absolutely deaf. You stumble over a skateboard, utter a small curse under your breath-they hear ya in the barn.

You say undesirable remarks about say a teacher (hey wouldn't you in my case.) And they proudly announce it at Open House. While you cringe in the back of the class, and act like you don't know who that child belongs to.

How about that joke you say to your hubby, you know the ones that are suppose to stay between just you two. Right up until you find out one of the heathens is hiding behind a door, or piece of furniture. You know right after they're told to go to bed and stay there for the tenth time.Then you run into a friend in a store and they loudly tell everyone within five aisles that mommy plays hide and seek with the mail-man.

My favorite is the one that you are sure came from somewhere else. You know that comment that you're appalled came out your child's mouth. That comment you are sure is from outside sources, the bus, a stranger in the store. Only to catch your favorite adult show say the very comment your child uttered a week ago. Oops!

Then of course their is another category; the things you never thought you'd hear yourself say.

-"Don't throw the cat!"

-"Please quit shoving rice in your brother's ear!"

-"No the dog did not eat all the cereal bars."

-"You fed what to the pig?!"

-"Don't bathe the guinea pig in the crock pot!"

-"When your real parents get here they owe me money."

-"Don't play with that it'll fall off." (This was contributed by Honeybear.)

-"Did you go potty?" (To Honeybear as we were leaving the house, oops.)

-"My favorite Sesame Street character is ________"

-"We do NOT give toys a bath in the toilet."

-"But it's my turn to leave."

You get the point. Well I must go now according to the kids I must go catch a pig-again.

for the love of gravy

Okay in case you misinterpreted the title this is not an entry about food-well not people food. That's my way of expressing displeasure. But then again who can really be disgruntled when gravy is involved. Anywho, this all started innoc earlier, we were making breakfast so I guess it would be much earlier.

As Bella stood on the counter stirring the brown sugar into the oatmeal, the other three burst through the back door. "Mom! MOM! MOM!" Okay yeah I'm not three feet away, so lets scream some more. (You could say I slightly over reacted. But just slightly, I swear!) However my rebuke did nothing to calm the dancing and the pained expressions in their faces, so yeah something is up.

Torn between laughing at their pleading faces, and acting like stern mommy to keep the screaming to a minimum in the explaining. I finally relent and get "WE ARE OUT OF FOOD!" I look at the stove-nope the oatmeal didn't disappear so this can mean only one thing. Chicken feed-again. The third bag in three weeks! Hello they weigh all of four ounces! So why is it yesterday morning when I fed their was a quarter of a barrel?

Something fishy is going on here. No we have no idea what is going on. There is a lid on the barrel, and there is always one of us with them to feed. So where is the feed going? Well then again we do fill up six feeders three times a day, maybe it isn't such a mystery.

Anyways point being these chicks can't wait for food all day. So enter SUPERMOM. We hurriedly eat our oatmeal, clean up, and jump in the van. Get to the feed store and go in. The kids are amazing! They hold onto the cart, use inside voices, and cause no accidents that enforce the break it you buy it clause. Yay! Rush home, start pulling feed out, go in the barn----there's feed.

Thanks kids!

my letter to santa

Dear Santa,
How is the missus? And dear old Rudy? Hope all is well with you, as it is with me. I have been a real good girl this year. Just don't listen to the rumors. So I have a few requests, just some small nothings you might say. Nothing a great man like you can't handle I'm sure.

Could you get me a couple of Shel Silverstien books his poems are amazing. I'm sure they can keep the kids entertained for hours allowing me to get done what really needs done. Housework I swear!

And please bring me some sleeping dust, just a pinch that will make the children sleep past seven at least. I promise to use it responsibly. Just please make sure that it is permissable to use everyday. Or twice a day if the need arises for a nap.

A maid would be amazing, but I would settle for just a made. Maybe a couple extra house cleaning fairies. Unfortanetly I found my previous one buried at the bottom of a laundry avalanche. It explained a lot and I took back all the nasty things I said upon her disappearance. Her memorial was short and sweet however, as Bella loves to flush the toyletta.

Another set of hands also would be nice then the dishes and dinner could be done at the same time. Of course they would need to be invisible wouldn't want to make other moms jealous.

If the above requests are to much I would settle for one of the following:
my old figure back, well behaved children, and a magic wand or at least a fairy mother.

I know that the handsome and understanding and hardworking man such as yourself understands the dire need for these things. I'm also sure Mrs. Clause has desired these things with all your darling little elves running around. So any question as to the sincere need of these few simple requests I'm sure she can attest to.

Sincerely,
Sheena

lets play a game!!!

I decided since the last two entries have been so...somber I would lighten the mood. Since the events you have asked me about have an obvious outcome-I homeschool. Lets play What Would You Do?

Now you know Madison was put in special ed to help with her social and verbal issues and Martin is dyslexic. Now lets see what you would do?

You walk in to pick your child up from class only to find her sitting in the corner. The teacher smiles sweetly at you and says she participated in recess. When asked what else they made her do they tell you they can't force her to do anything she doesn't want. Do you a) nod and say of course not she's a free spirit all right
b) look at them and reply "goodness no why would you be expected to do that?"
c) shake your head and wonder where you went wrong-choosing a preschool or
d) smack them upside the head for being an idiot


When you go to have a meeting about your child (who is in first grade) getting kicked off the bus for standing up, the principal tells you two things. One maybe you should back off and let us do your (that is actually what was said not a misprint) job, and two well he got four previous warnings sent home they should be in the file with your signature. Imagine the surprise when they aren't there and the one he got kicked off for supposedly happened a month ago. Do you a) hang your head in shame and say "yes, ma'am, I'm sorry.
b)reply "Do whatever you think is best ma'am."
c)look at her open mouthed in a stupor
d) smack her upside the head and tell her she better back off your child, and no you most certainly won't back off.


When at a meeting to discuss the situation in preschool and what is to be done for it, you are attacked by teacher, principal, and special needs coordinator alike. Do you a)nod and say "Whatever you guys think is best. Should I turn over my rights now?"
b)eyes watering apologize for the interference and ask what they suggest
c)sit there and wonder how in the world teacher's seem to know more about the child that grew in your body than you do apparently.
d)look each one square in the eye and tell them till they've went without sleep for over a week to make sure she's alive in the morning, sat and watched as she screamed for hours without being able to comfort her because that would make it worse, then you can take your opinions and shove them..in the corner next to where they leave her all day. Then get up and smack them all upside the heads.


You hear that your son who until four months ago was an absolutely star pupil, is now nothing other than a daydreamer. When he asks for help cause he doesn't understand, and their answer is to tell him he's just a boy he won't get it. Even after you find out he's dyslexic and they say nothing can or will be done till fourth grade. Do you a)sigh and tell her you'll make sure he understands he's just stupid
b)promise to diligently do his homework for three more hours a night
c)look at her and go "He's a boy? The doctor promised us a girl." all the while questioning exactly what qualifies this woman has a teacher, cause obviously she knows nothing about your child after six months of daily contact
d) smack her upside the head and ask her if she realizes she's just a teacher

Now total up the amounts of a,b,c,or d's answers.

If you have mostly a's- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
If you have mostly b's- WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
If you have mostly c's- Not much into violence are you?
If you have mostly d's- In a perfect world only could we do this for those that treat our children as inferior. But it is a nice day dream.

Of course my answer is obvious I quit fighting them. I took control of my kid's future and education, and we haven't looked back. It's not for everyone, there is no doubt, but it is well worth it. Even the days where I want to run away screaming and not come back.

history behind the reasons

I had several e-mails yesterday asking for the reason I decided to homeschool, some were very surprised they were ever in public school at all. So I have decided that I would explain the details behind our decision. First off you should learn more about Madison.

You see Madison is a very special and intelligent little girl. When she was born she was the largest of our four, eight and a half pounds. Now it isn't unusual for a baby to lose a little weight after birth, however Madison continued to lose and grew weaker and weaker. At three months after numerous (and by numerous I mean sometimes more than once a day) doctor appointments, we were really scared. The doctor kept telling me I just didn't know what I was doing. (The fact that her brother was a year older and extremely healthy and sitting next to her meant nothing. I was nineteen and so I must just be stupid right?)

I didn't sleep for ten days straight after waking up to find her blue, and still the doctor told me I was just too young to be a mother. So I did something I should have done sooner, I walked into a well known peds office asked for a doctor, handed her my daughter and said, "Now you can either help me or if she dies it will be on your hands." She seemed shocked and started asking me what the problem was. When she found out Madison's weight and age (three months, and around five lbs) she instantly flipped. My daughter was so weak she couldn't lift her head up or roll over! After examining her and checking reflexes and watching her nurse, she first was angry-at Madison's doctor. She wasn't just mad she was furious. She not only called him she had him pulled from the registry at the hospital. Then she cried, she cried with me over the torment of watching my daughter grow weaker, and the injustice of being judged for being young. (I might mention here that Honeybear and I married when I was seventeen and Martin followed exactly nine months and five days later at thirty-seven weeks.)

After the emotions were spent, she gave me strict orders to quit nursing. Madison was just to weak for that. They put her on a calorie rich formula, and then another and another and another. Then they tried meds, and more meds, and more meds. She was finally diagnosed with Rheyes Disease. An inability to digest certain grains and grain products, and severe reflux. She also had terrible digestion which caused horrible gas, which in turn did not let her umbilical cord close and she got a huge hernia. At a year old she needed surgery to fix the hernia because it just kept getting bigger. There was a catch she had to be ten pounds. She had just managed to stay out of the hospital by gaining a few ounces then losing a few. She was weighed daily. Sometimes if she had lost too much she was weighed again and somehow always managed to just barely squeak by.

The day of the surgery was postponed twice, because of her weight. Finally they said she could have her surgery. A month after the original appointment. When we got there the nurse took her to weigh her and brought her back. She said "We have a problem. She's nine-twelve." I instantly started bawling I knew she was going to die, if we had to leave again. (The hernia was starting to cut off digestion from getting to full. She was constantly having to take meds to move her bowels.) She went and got the doctor. He knew her history, when he looked at us his face was absolutely determined. He asked me to trust him, and then he said "We are doing this today." They took my daughter from my arms, and all we could do was sit there and wait. (The stress caused some horrible Braxton-Hicks.)The surgery went well although the hernia stretched her skin so badly that they had to surgically remove and enclose her belly button, basically they had to make her one.

After her surgery she gained weight quickly (at least for her) by eighteen months she weighed eighteen pounds. However her immune system and digestive system were still not great. And still are very sensitive to this day.

She started developing quicker and catching up with others, but something was noticeably different. She didn't talk like others and some days she wouldn't talk at all. Even to us. She didn't react like other children, and she seemed to be in a world all her own most the time. Oh yes and she hated to be touched. But her eyes never seemed to miss anything, she always seemed to be following us with her eyes. Several doctors and several years later, we still don't know why she is different.

After several hours of OT, PT, speech and vision therapy she is happier and healthier. If you met her today she would seem just like a shy sweet little girl. This is the history of my beautiful Madison, tomorrow I will tell you the reasons that lead to homeschooling.

homeschooling debate with a stranger

I have no idea what I do that makes people think they should stop me and question me at every turn. My Mama says I have a controversial aura, Honeybear says I'm just an easy target. I don't know nor do I care. But for the thousandth time I was stopped by someone in Wal-Mart to "get a talking to".

It all started out innocent, (Okay I really need to quit saying that) we were at Wal-Mart getting some dog food and this and that. Well the heathens had been on their very best behavior so I went to get them some gum. We (as in Me and the kids) were in pretty good moods, so we were being silly and making up a story as we walked along.

Suddenly Ella waves hi to the same woman for the fourth time. I look at her and smile figuring she must just have a similar shopping list. Apparently I was wrong, she was following us. And I guess she was trying to gain courage to approach me. She looked at me and glanced away again, then squared her shoulders and looked back at me. In a determined voice she asked "Shouldn't they be at school?" Now we often get that question during "school hours" but there was quite the edge in this woman's voice.

Seeing she was spoiling for a fight, I ignored her and pushed on. Unfortanetly Degan and Martin are so proud of themselves they announce "We don't go to school. We're-" They were interrupted by "What do you mean you don't go to school." Said much more demanding then questioning. Sighing I turned rebuking the boys first for talking to a stranger, then turning my attention to her. Seeing her standing there with a phone she starts asking my children their name. That is it I am now the one ready to fight. I answer "It's none of your business, but they are homeschooled."

She doesn't seem to be appeased. "You don't look like your a religious sect. They should be at school." Ummm excuse me? When did religion become a requisite to homeschool your children? (Don't get me wrong we are Missionary Baptist and proud of it. But this statement is so ignorant it's beyond...well you get it.)I really don't care what this woman's issue is, but she obviously needs some homeschooling herself. "You don't have to be anything to homeschool,"I reply," these children happen to be more intelligent than main stream schools allow. Not that I need to tell you anything, but obviously you are ignorant of good education requirements."

She interrupts me to tell me she was a school teacher for fifteen yrs before she was laid off. Now I know all about the budget cutbacks and the down sizing of school districts, but I'm thinking she was just a teacher no one cared to save. (I know I know don't judge but hey she's acting like I'm abusing my children by giving them a great start in life.) I take this fact that she sees has her right to question my parenting. If I wanted some one judging my children and questioning my parenting they'd still be in public school.

"I don't care what your credentials are. These are MY children! If you are a so called teacher you should know the laws on homeschooling. Now either you leave us alone or we are going to have a problem."

Okay now I realize I have stooped slightly to her level, but in my defense the one thing you don't mess with is my children. Seeing as how if this woman said one more thing I might have had to claw her eyes out, it's a good thing an associate of
Wal-Mart came by she looked at us then turned to me "Everything okay Sheena?" The woman seemed taken aback I had friends there, but then sneered at me "So you have friends here?" I looked at Penny and she looked at me, then we turned to this woman.

"No not friends-family. Now she can go get JD, the manager, or you can leave me alone. But I promise you if you push this further you're the one that is going to be embarrassed."

She sniffed and looked down her nose in disdain, but she turned and walked away. I looked at Penny and she looked at me. Her eyes were wide and she asked "what was that about?" I laughed and said believe it or not-homeschooling.

Now I know this is far off topic from my usual entries, but I think everyone out there needs to know about homeschooling rights. No we are not zealots or cults. We are ordinary people trying to give our kids the best in life. We live in a state that gives us the freedom to do what we believe is best. The only thing we must do is document one thousand hours of education, six hundred must be core knowledge. Core knowledge is reading, writing, math, science, and social studies. And we must keep examples of work completed for each child. No we do not turn into the state these records, they are ours. Very rarely are they asked for by anyone. Nor do you have to give them to just anyone who asks.

My children excede all expectations for children their age. I live by one simple statement, "You are your child's first teacher." I just hope that I'm not their last, life is all about learning.

the green acres test

There are so many comedians who have routines about rednecks and idiots. What about people who believe they're "country". My best friend, Ro, swears she is country-umm NO! So this is for her.

If you think your country but you have always been able to see into your neighbors house. You aren't country. While there are those rare country neighbors that live within a couple hundred feet of each other, we prefer not being able to see our neighbors houses let alone their dirty laundry.hehehe

If you have never held a chicken or in her case freak if a three day old chick looks at you. You aren't country. Once again not all of us own poultry but normally we have some form of livestock. We prefer growing our own food, not buying it at the grocery store. My two year old knows more about were food comes from then her nine yr old. (Bella points at Scout and shouts "bacon!")

If you've never butchered your own meat. You're not country. Yes we all have done the butcher shop route at one time or another. But come deer season Pops' garage is the butcher shop. Day and night we are in there slicing, dicing, and grinding. With the occasional eyeball fight for fun. (One has been stuck to the roof since last year!)

If you take your vehicle into the shop to tighten a hose clamp. You aren't country. Twice now Honeybear has gone to help them when they were about to have it towed to the shop. It took no time at all and a little elbow grease to fix. Things I have to check every couple of days to my van, they can't even figure out the name of-that thingy there in the front. Ya know the one that leaks water everywhere.

When the hardest chore your kids have is to clean their room. You aren't country. My four year old has twice as many chores as her adorable thirteen year old daughter. When her kids come out and want to go do something and can't figure out how to water a chicken to help out-they aren't country either. lol. When asked to grab some hay and they look around in bewilderment with them standing next to the haystack-they really aren't country kids.

If you have a fence around your yard, and that's all the property you got. You aren't country. I know some of us fence off part of our yards, but they aren't the size of half a postage stamp. When kids can't run in a circle without worrying about running into a fence it's a small yard.

Now I have talked about how all these friends of mine are so citified right? They all think they're country! Whether it be Britty Bacon and her weird ideas about organic. Or Rona who swears she's country but had never seen a real live pig before yesterday, and afraid of a chick she could squash easily. This ain't country! This is intellectual country, ya you know where the food comes from good for you. But knowing it and living it is two totally different things completely.

So what are you classified as Green Acres, Beverly Hillbillies, or 90210 (did I get that right?)?

I know nothing

Channeling my inner Hogan's Heros again. Last night I was caught between pride and embarrassment. Not an unusual place to be for mamas-right? But hopefully the other dozen parents or so around didn't mind my son teaching their children a useful phrase in another language.

It all started out innocent enough. (Does anyone notice that right after I say this normally something not so innocent happens?) We were heading to our very first Boy Scout camp out. I might side track a little but it is amusing that without a dad in the car (both dads had to work) Ro and I got completely lost trying to get there. I believe it was three or maybe four wrong turns at the state park and asking directions from three different people before we came to the right camp site. All well and good we arrived late but at least we arrived.

Shortly after arriving a game to get to know each other began, Human Bingo. You had to find random people if they could sign a question. Ya know "find someone with a pet" "find someone who plays an instrument" and then there was Martin's golden question "find someone who speaks another language" not a whole lot of others can do that so Martin became in high demand quickly.

At the end of this the Pack Leader started going around and asking who did you find for this question and that. Well Martin of course was picked for the second language and was asked to stand up and say something in another language. It was to dark for sign language so he chose German. And proudly announced "Toyletta. Vo ist dee toyletta." and sat down. Of course they asked what he said and he told them. "where is the bathroom". Did I mention we were at a camp out with no bathrooms just trees and about 20 boys?

Can anyone guess what became the word of the day-or night in this case? We went on the night hike and amongst the gibber jabber of twenty some odd boys whooping and hollering you could hear the discussion of toylettas and where to go out in the woods. Which led to extensive testing of fart noises... in the dark...in the woods. The dads took it good naturedly I mean it is BOY scouts. But the other moms weren't nearly as amused. Guess I won't be making any friends there. *sigh* oh well I guess there's always Ro.

Now after this we had to leave so I could get the other three heathens from Pops' house. So we grabbed Martin and Caden and got directions from a dad for the nearest gas station. This was not a smart thing to do its dark and we already are a little turned around from being lost. So somehow we ended up in the next down over, someone forgot to mention there was two different highways that divided the park. Luckily we knew where we were when we saw where we were (there's a tongue twister) and made it home safely. But next time a camp out is planned Honeybear either gets off work or we aren't going camping anywhere but the back yard!







I am trying something new (obviously) telling me what you think.And remember it gets better when its over if it ain't better it ain't over.

do i need to send you to the principal

This is our little running joke during school hours. The principal in question normally raises and eyebrow and it quickly deters anymore rowdy interruptions. (Notice the usually.) However it failed miserably yesterday as the principal and pupil were in cahoots to drive the teacher (me) to insanity.

I was ever so patiently trying to explain how the Spanish sent Cortez to explore the new world after the Vikings. But all they kept going back to was the paddle boats of the Vikings. And how did they manage to get all the way over here with their horn hats slipping down. Then somehow football got brought into the conversation, and Martin is now insisting they are going to win the SUPERBOWL. Which of course the principal felt needed to be addressed. I know it is so important to education to understand a football teams offensive line up. *rolls eyes*

Well I finally get the oh so educational football talks to finish and try to focus the little ones minds back on history. Enter Maytags. I don't know how but somehow the Aztecs and the Mayans were combined to make the Maytags. Does Honeybear help? Heck no he laughs and every time I try and correct them and they get it wrong he laughs. Then at one point I say the Mayans and he replies don't you mean the Maytags? Thanks Principal Honeybear you're a lot of help.

So we start talking about how the Aztec were defeated by the Spanish and I am asking questions to make sure they're understanding. Ummmm no. I ask why the Spanish defeated the Aztec and I get cause they brought over tanks. Then they ask why the Maytags disappeared. And they answer their own question oh yeah they needed a vacation.

Should I worry? They are going to go in public and talk about how the Maytags took a vacation cause the tanks were blocking their ocean front view. Somehow I don't think anyone else would consider this a classic education.

Martin boy detective

It's been brought to my attention that I have started to wander from the main path here on the blog. Well you know the saying a mind wanders. Now if any of you happen to find mine be sure to send it back. But from now on I promise to try to stay on topic, no guarantees.

Today a new dawn reared its gorgeous head, and none other than Martin was up and ready to meet it head on. He has for some amazing reason been able to wake up before all of us and do chores the past four mornings. As heartwarming as it is to see my little man latch on to responsibility it is also sad to see my darling first born so grown up.

However this morning he came and got me for a perplexing mystery has begun to unravel. Scoot the up and coming replacement for Rooster has disappeared. I would say without a trace but after further investigation a trace was found. But I'm getting to the cart before the horse here. As I was saying Martin came running in saying Scoot was no where to be seen.

At this point I wasn't to worried. You see Scoot got his name because no matter how short we clipped his wings he managed to get wherever he wanted to go. So I figured he was just wandering through the garden. I get up anyways (who can sleep with their kid bouncing around and talking right in their sleeping face) and hey it was all of a quarter after seven how could I sleep to such a late hour.

After a few moments of sleep walking I actually woke up, maybe it was the cold dew on my bare feet. Or maybe it was Diesel almost knocking me over for his good morning scratch, anyways you get the point. So we walk around and look for Scoot. No Scoot in the barn, or the camp circle, or in the chicken house. Now I'm wondering where exactly that little turkey (pardon the expression) has ran off to. Right about then I hear a thump and Bella crying from in the house. I take off and Martin follows asking what about Scoot. I look at him slightly distracted cause now I can hear Degan arguing with Madison as well. I turn back and say "It's a mystery bub, just a mystery."

Need I say this was the wrong thing to say? The wheels started turning in that little astute mind of his, and he followed me in and then disappeared into his room. Later when he came out he was carrying his big blue " briefcase" with a sign Martin Dtactiev on the side. He stopped to ask for some scotch tape and then he went out the back door.

Curious as to what he was really doing I walked to the window and peeked out. He had opened his case and pulled out a map of the yard with certain areas circled. I watched in amusement as he walked with determination towards the first circle. When he arrived he scoured it ,notebook in hand scribbling furiously. But apparently found nothing interesting as he crossed it off with a big "X" on his map. Apparently X does not mark the spot.

He continued on and I turned to tend to the rest of the brood. But about fifteen or so minutes later he reappeared quite excited. He showed me his notebook where he had taped some scratch (chicken feed) on one side and a couple of ruffled looking white feathers on another of a page of his homemade notebook. He said he had a hypothesis (seriously, that is what he said) and asked me to come with him.

So bemused as I was I followed my erstwhile detective out to the yard. He led me around showing me where he had no success in finding "clues". Finally he led me to "north of the crime scene" (no more Jacob Two-Two for this boy) and showed me where he had found his first clue-the Scratch. (Probably dropped by the kids while choring-but shhhhhh don't tell him that.) Then he led me to the "crime scene" right to the fence of the chicken and pig pen. Yep you guessed it Scout the mass chicken murder had struck again.

Oh well, at least Martin has a budding new career. Anyone got a quarter and a mystery to solve he's available.

I'm your huckleberry

Anyone worth their salt knows this line from Tombstone. And from this line came Honeybear's new truck's name. Huckleberry is most definetely here. This thing not only fell out of the ugly tree it then got mad an rammed it a few times for good measure. But you know the saying true beauty is on the inside and the engine can really rumble.

When he first told me about the truck I was...cautious. Then he took me to see it-and I was appalled. It didn't help that the supposed fine running truck wouldn't start. And the kids and I sat in the van for four hours. Honeybear was convinced he'd just get there and drive it on home. Ha.

But there was no doubt nothing I said would convince him to reconsider. You know there's another line from Tombstone. Darn it, you're the most fallible, stubborn, self-deluded, bullheaded man I've ever known in my entire life. Doc said this to Wyatt but it is the finest description of my Honeybear anywhere. So I sat patiently waiting for us to leave, hoping the dang thing wouldn't start to give me a chance.

Of course right then the engine roared to life, making us sitting in the van jump. Boy howdy was it loud. And then without a word Honeybear took to the roads. I was sitting there just shaking my head, no deterring him now.

When he came back from his test drive he looked like a kid in a candy shop. His face was a glow and he was grinning from ear to ear. I was amused right up until he told me about his test drive. Apparently as he took a corner (too fast I'm sure) he was shocked by the hood flying up and banging the window. Luckily he could see under and around the battered hood to pull over. When the then owner jumped out slammed the hood and jumped back in. Only to tell him that they were between two of the local cops houses. Nice we haven't even bought it yet and already we're going to have a ticket.

Well shortly thereafter we left without the truck thank goodness. But when I tried to talk to Honeybear about the truck he just insisted it was worth it. And I just sighed say la vee. But at least he took a couple of days and really thought about it.

I thought about it too. And still wasn't all that happy about it-till he brought it home. Then I was repulsed. One headlight, and the the other was barely hanging in there. The roof is bungy corded and the bumper was sitting in the truck bed. Yeah I said it was ugly. I was wrong its a monstrosity! But then he convinced me to take a ride.

Oh yeah that engine is amazing! That little ole s10 has more power than his big truck. And oh it doesn't just purr it roars. I have faith in Honeybear he is amazing with body work so I know it isn't going to be long before the outside matches the inside. So now he can say "I told you so."

The moral of this is an old one: Its not the outside that counts its what is on the inside that matters.

she who laughs last, thinks the slowest

I have heard this said to me more times than I can count. I'm here to tell you it has nothing to do with my ability to think. It's my ability to follow where others minds go. Personally I think this saying fits me much better: I laugh the first time when the joke is told, the second time five minutes later when it is explained, the third time hours later when I finally understand it.

This is exactly how I have spent today. And while I warn you the joke is a tad bit juvenile finally getting it made me laugh like a loon. Early this morning my friend sent me a single line message. (Personally I think they knew me well enough they thought I would embarrass myself before I got it.) The line simply said "look down and spell A T T I C". Now I'm sure most have already understood this as they read it, not me.

I started to ask Honeybear what I was missing, but somehow sensed I was overthinking this easy task. So several hours later I still had not figured it out and finally decide to try my luck. We were traveling to my in-laws, I assumed I could just tell Honeybear the line and he'd somehow give me a clue as to what was so amusing-I was wrong.

Maybe it's the fact we've been together for so long, or the fact he knows me so well, or just something in my face. He knew I had no clue why he was laughing, and taunted me for a few moments before having mercy. He says "Honey, look down tee tees." I looked down and started laughing, it was so obvious. But come on how juvenile to just have someone look down just to say tee tees. We arrived shortly thereafter, it's not that long of a trip, and I put it out of my mind.

About an hour or so later my mind wondered from the tedious man conversation, and back to the joke. All the sudden I found myself repeating the letters to myself again. Suddenly I got it A T T I C, I busted up laughing which led to snorting as I tried to stop. Pops and Honeybear looked at me, obviously whatever they were discussing didn't strike them as amusing.

Pops got up to change the music and Honeybear looked at me and goes "What is wrong with you?" I said just one word in response "Attic." And started giggling all over again. He just shook his head and mumbled something along the lines of I knew she didn't get it.

Now I ask you am I stupid just because I kept my mind on the letters. I thought it was more of a mental challenge. So often things said in day to day conversations go right over my head, just cause my mind is more literal. Now I'll let you be the judge, next time some one doesn't get the joke, don't just dismiss their intelligence. Ask yourself "whose the dummy now?"

P.P.M.S.

I have started to write this blog entry three separate times now. And each time deemed it not funny enough to be on the blog. Well I give up cause this is what I am dealing with right now. Puppy p.m.s.! Now here's a question how exactly am I suppose to handle four teenagers under one roof I can't handle my dog going through it.

I swear she is everything they say teenagers will be: sullen, pouty, ignoring me, sneaking out, and attitude. Not to mention breaking all the rules that she knows better than to do. And this is a thirteen pound pug! What's going to happen when it's a hundred pound teenager. I plan on having white hair by then.

In case you can't do the math I will have a thirteen yr old, fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen yr old all under one roof in about ten years. By the time we are done dealing with puberty and all that comes with it I will be in the nut house. My only comfort is knowing Honeybear will be in the padded room next door.

Maybe I'm looking at this all wrong maybe I should use Gypsy Rose as a tool as to which to practice with. Lets see she's snuck out to go romp with boys (Diesel mostly) so I grounded her to her crate. But all I got was whining and talked back to. So yes definetly like what I'll have to deal with. But can I really lock the kids in a crate and spray them with water every time they back talk? hmmmmm

Then there was her chewing on my purse and getting my wallet out. I smacked her barely there nose and grounded her to her crate once again. And all I got was whining and back talk. hmmmm Does anyone else see a pattern emerging?

You know I really don't see how practicing is going to help. They're going to back talk and whine no matter how much I practice. But at least for Gypsy Rose puberty lasts a couple of months at the most. The kids will reach it and stay there forever.

Maybe I will just duct tape them to their beds till they're thirty after all.

football! already?

Anybody who watches three games of football in a row should be declared brain dead. Okay no rioting, I did not say this first. Erma Bombeck said this ages ago. It just happens to still hold true. hehehe

Don't get me wrong, footballs great-for about five minutes. Then I've had my fill of looking at the guys butts in those tight uniforms. But then the refs walk away and there's nothing to look at other than the football players huddling.

Seriously what is so fun about twenty-two guys running around after an inflated pig gut. They run one way-then they run the other. Then they run one way-then they run the other. For THREE hours this goes on. And then the next game comes on! It never ends!

I am so going to get it after this from my family. My brother was the star quarterback for years. I grew up with football twenty-four/seven till they finally gave me a t.v. for my bedroom. I rejoiced! It only took sixteen years for them to come to the realization that I wasn't going to grow into liking football.

Don't get me wrong there are several things I adore about fall. It's just funner to tease my family about their obsession. They have a football competition every year, with a trophy for the winner. Every week they all pick whose going to win what game and tally it up till pro-bowl season.

I tried to play but I figured out halfway through the season two things.One I didn't have a chance in Hades seeing has how I knew nothing about the teams. And two I didn't care. But listening to them talk about it and rib each other is enough for another blog altogether.

Then there's the fact that a season is supposedly like thirteen weeks. Bah! That is such a lie. First you got pre-season. And everyone gets in a tizzy about how their team is going to do. Does pre-season ever really indicate how good the team is going to do? Not according to the men I know. Their team saved the best plays and players for the real season. Element of surprise!

Then comes the real season. One week your team is going to the SUPERBOWL next your ready to jump ship. Unless your a Chiefs fan than your just someone who lives in Dissapointment Land. (I am so going to get reamed for this. But it's so worth it.) You never really get out of that rut.

Then there's the post-season. Every bowl known to man. Not to mention one's that make you go they named something as masculine as a football game after flowers. I know my man is all about roses how bout yours? It never ends it seems.


And then blessedly baseball begins. Somebody shoot me already?

Authors Edit

It has been brought to my attention that the season is not thirteen weeks, but sixteen weeks with talk of extending it to eighteen next year. yay. (read sarcasm)

oh the thrills of writing

I have been so wrapped up in writing, I looove it. You might be surprised but my imagination stretches places you'd never imagine. I had writer's block, call it lesson planning if you will, but now that's taken care of.

Thanks to my parents this book has been in my head since a child. They always told me how they got me from the gypsies. That's all it took. I've been enthralled by gypsies every since. While babysitting once for friends of Mama and Daddy I accidentally convinced the girls my story was true. I just thought I was keeping them entertained.

Now my kids love to hear my "history" too. Not to mention the stories I tell them at bedtime. I've been working on a book for my Daddy and Christopher for a year and just haven't got the illustrations done yet. And I do all the kids' books for school like books on the different continents and such.

Right now I am working on a resume and picking the best of my blog for a weekly column in a newspaper. This is keeping me on edge, I'm sure you can imagine. But I need to quit dragging my feet.

It has been suggested by some of my homeschooling friends I upload the books for school and sell them. E-books I believe they're called. So many different propositions, and so much to think about. I need a manager, Mama want to be my manager? lol.

Maybe one day I will be famous, I'd just settle for my writing to be well known. I love to write, I enjoy it even more when people enjoy my writings. I remember writing little chapter books as a child, so its been apart of me for a long time.

The ramblings here today have diverted from the path I originally meant to take, but hey you know me by now. Ewww shiny is my middle name. I guess I'm just writing it all down so I can get some perspective on what way to go.