Thursday, November 6, 2014

Just Enough Dysfunction

       We are all parents here, well mostly at least. I'd like to think I've prevented some from joining in the misery. ;)  And I have discussed this particular peeve of mine before but I loooooove the new way of telling all of us parents how we are doing. No longer are articles titled with the eye catching how to, need to know, mistakes you're making, fix it, blah blah blah blah. Now it's all coming in captions of  Things Good Parents Do and the like. (Because of course every parent out there is sure, just absolutely sure, we are the good parent on the block....I really need to develop a sarcastic font.) So here goes my version of the article. *Note: the names have been changed to protect the innocent...parents.

    1. Good parents never yell to make their children listen. Okay, obviously these parents have given birth to the only children on the planet without selective hearing. Side note- obviously I'm not one of these good parents. If a day goes by that I only break the sound barrier once trying to be heard over the racket of our children and zoo I'm sure someone is sick or trapped and start taking temperatures and head counts.

   2. Good parents pick their battles. Yep, we pick our battle the moment the eye rolling, sighing, whatever, dirty look giving 100 lbs of puberty angst ridden twin makes an appearance. Because let me tell you-MY child I gave birth to is perfect. The fairy changeling that takes its place occasionally in the form of a rude, ungrateful, and severely put upon twin, however, makes me grit my teeth and tell myself I can not kill this being or my sweet darling will not be returned.

  3. Good parents use word tricks such as the when/then parenting to get their way. Yes! Of course! This is exactly what I've been doing wrong all this time! My good friend *Ashley was shocked this one little trick could solve so many problems. "I mean what parent tells their child/ren when you do your chores, then you get a reward? To think I was throwing candy at them and not a toy was picked up afterwards. I'm embarrassed." (Really need to develop that sarcastic font.)

4.Good parents serve one meal, with a second option, and make food an adventure. Alright, this time I combined several into one. Because honestly this one baffles me. What do they think is going to happen here? A child will be so willful that they're going to starve themselves if mama doesn't feed them only chicken nuggets and mac and cheese? I promise you children are only as manipulative as a parent allows. For eleven years, four children, and several guests on different occasions I've never had to have a back up. I have had vegetarians, pescatarians, city folk, and in between to my home and aside from making sure there's enough veggies available I've never had to do anything else. Have a second option? Why so they can tell you they don't like that one either. What then? Make food an adventure? How bout eat what I made or wait till the next meal. I've had children over playing who were fascinated with a very basic lunch item (roman noodles with eggs and veggies mixed in.) She wasn't sure what a lima bean was and wanted seconds. This child had exclusively eaten chicken nuggets and ice cream for a year.   (Might I note I previously said I'm not one of these good parents.)

  5. Good parents tidy up once a day, have quiet time, and encourage hobbies other than tv.
Because apparently these so called good parents have time to spare before bedtime and a live in maid. It's the only explanation I can come up with. "IF I only cleaned up once a day, hoarders would be contacted in a week", said another friend of mine, Brandi. What's impressive is she's only got one child and a cat. If I quit cleaning for a day...well we might dwindle from a family of six to five until we relocated the child that was swallowed by the laundry pile.

     What have you learned from all this? Probably came to the same realization I did. I am NOT a good parent. That's alright though, my goal was to give the kids just enough dysfunction to make them interesting. 

Friday, July 18, 2014

The Horror Never Ends

That is it!! I want off this ride! Or at least a magic potion that makes my babies stay babies! This is absolutely ridiculous and terrifying!! (Excuse all the exclamation marks but I'm slightly freaked out...obviously.) In three days I won't have one but two...preteens! I know, right?! I'll let the horror subside a moment.

So Monday Madison turns ten. And let me tell you her age is just catching up with her attitude. There are some days I look at the the sassy britches giving me attitude and wonder where my sickly, quiet baby went. Don't get me wrong I'm ecstatic on one hand that she has finally found her voice. The girl barely spoke, even to us, till she was five or so. On the's hard not to shove a pop tart in her mouth just so she stops speaking for five seconds.

Boys way older than her give her attention that is totally unwarranted. (There was a clothlining incident when Martin's little buddy made a remark when she bent over. His buddy being thirteen and Martin being eleven didn't stop him from taking great exception to the fact that the posterior in question was his nine year old sister's. In truth the little delinquent is lucky it wasn't heard by her father and I, I'd marched his little hiney home and presented him to his parents then he'd be really sorry.)

Thankfully Madison finds physical contact repulsive. Whenever kissing comes on TV or the teenagers around her decide they need to broadcast their budding hormones the response is always the same. "Ewwwwwwww! They're eating each other's faces and getting germs! That is so disgusting!" What mother doesn't want to hear that from her child? It's like music to my ears.

The only downfall is the girl definitely appreciates beauty. She's been known to remark he sure is pretty, to bad he opens his mouth and that goes out the window. The first time she referred that way to a different boy that was showing off for her I about fell off the porch swing.

 On one hand I'm quite positive the girl will be as selective as I was on who can take her on a date. On the other I'm fairly certain she'll find the one and like us there will be nothing anyone can do to tell her differently. I can only hope she holds to this wisdom that she has now cause when full blown hormones come into play she might just become the typical teenager trying to give her parents a heart attack.

Maybe we can just wrap the house in electrified barbwire. Wish me luck folks.

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

Metaphorically Speaking

My tears are salting the deli pretzel I am eating to hide my feelings. It would be better if it was raining, but I am sitting in the bathroom with the shower going to hide. I'm torn between being thrilled and being terrified. No one informed me this ride called motherhood was this emotionally exhausting. I want a refund.

     Today is a huge day in the life of the Waltons...we left Martin home alone. As we were shepherding the flock to the vehicle to run to the store, Martin mentioned casually that he didn't want to go really. A simple statement. Nothing but a general statement that he was disinterested in going to town period.

      Enter mama logic 101. Well as good a time as any to try this out. We'll only be gone for forty five minutes. Will he be scared? Oh well I'll ask him and see. What are the chances he actually wants to? Zero to slim. So no harm no foul. I'll look like benevolent mommy, and he won't have to admit he still needs me. Perfect plan, right? Since I've already stated he stayed home alone you know it wasn't.

      As he walked out of his room, and Honeybear walked out of our room,  I met them in the middle and smiling asked if he wanted to stay at home. Honeybear gave me a look of disbelief but looked at our firstborn too. At first Martin thought I was kidding but then he realized I was serious. There was a clear twinkle in his eyes when he confirmed that would be epic.

      We went over the rules that every child needs and told him to lock the door behind us. A block from the house I called my mom. Check on Martin in thirty minutes he's home alone. "Are you freaking out?" What? Why would I be freaking out? I just left my first born to be kidnapped, burned alived, or attacked by a minotaur. Who knows what happens when you leave a child home alone? Oh wait, my parents did it and I survived. Still the idea of highway men or a serial killer ran through my head. Maybe even a rampaging tyrannosaurs rex. (You never know when a time traveling worm hole will appear.)

     When we hit about five miles away I called answer. TURN THE CAR AROUND HE'S BEING MURDERED!!!! Five seconds later he calls back. Sorry fumbled the phone. DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!!! Now are you okay? Yes, bye. We can come back? No, bye? So everything is okay? Yes mom. So good bye. Alright goodbye.

     After we rush through the store and forget the hamburger buns. (Really Honeybear, you act like you're on fire.) As we head out to the car mom calls... laughing. She called him and he was very proud he was home alone. Oh great, he's going to be packing his bags and moving out by the time we get home. On the way back, I start to breath its been less than thirty minutes. How much could go wrong?  That's when Honeybear tells me I need to let go of the phone before I crush it.

       We got home and the house was still standing. Martin was thrilled and I am still breathing so I guess no one died and it was the first of the boxes packed ,metaphorically speaking, before they all fly the nest. In the mean time I hope they don't make me pull out my feathers to much....

Thursday, June 12, 2014


Some days it just doesn't pay to get out of bed. Cliche that that is- being the mother of four kids makes it almost always true. As I day dream of burrowing back into my cozy nest, covering my head with my extra pillow, I think about nap time fights. The sweet ease into dreamland... where you can be anything and everything without paying the cost of reality, is rarely there for anyone under the age of six. They'd rather stubbornly cling to their door posts, nails digging in and leaving gouges to measure their growth by.

Why drift off to Never Never Land with Peter Pan when you can cry and scream and face the injustices of mommy refusing to refill your sippy cup. Who wants to fly through the stars, scuba dive in the frothy depths where amazing creatures play, when you can sit on your bed gasping for breath to rattle your windows.


But no, every young child knows the most magical moments happen after mommy tries to lay them down. We must be finger painting the frosting on world record cookies from their reactions. Either that or we're swimming in melted ice cream with unicorns. That is the only explanation for their absolute refusal to do the magical restorative thing called a nap.

Why am I reminiscing of those days? Two of mine declared loudly that they were tired from staying up late chatting and went and took a nap. Now I'm the one throwing the tantrum, cause it's just not fair. They're probably mermaids right now. While I'm sitting here drinking my second pot of coffee just trying to stay awake long enough to make it to bedtime! I wanna nap too!

Tuesday, June 10, 2014


    There's a few of my friends who keep putting up these memes. Jokingly I think a war has started. They always seem to be either stay at home mom problems or working mom problems. Now don't get me wrong I'm against the whole "mommy wars" thing (seriously can't we all just get along.)  But as I watch them post and comment back forth I see the parallels that they don't. I see the exact same problems unfolding in different locations. But I think they're seriously missing a perspective. You guessed it....homeschooling mom.

    For example one exchange went something like this.

"Yes, I'm a stay at home mom. Go ahead ask me what I do all day...I dare you."

Response of, "I do the laundry, cook dinner, nuture the children all while be preoccupied by this little thing called a full time job."

And the whole time I'm thinking...I do all of that and create magical lesson plans for four different grades and don't even get the summer months off.

      Another exchange went a little like this.

"Hardest part of my day was dropping my kids of at daycare...I forgot my coffee cup there."

Response this time, "I've seen the village and I don't want them raising my child."

   My thoughts were along the lines where's my coffee. Did you get your reading done yet? No I don't know where your book is probably where ever my coffee went to... they're eloping. Locating both book and coffee in guinea pig cage. o_O Don't ask, I don't have the answer.

          This one wasn't in meme form but rather entertaining.

"My boss keeps nagging me to finish this project. I still have to finish last weeks reports. And just got a call from daycare that little bit has a rash."

"You think you got it rough. Baby won't quit screaming. Hubby wants dinner. And my little one keeps telling me her tummy hurts only to find out she's getting the chicken pox."

     Mutual commiseration aside (see working or staying at home your lives run parallel.) I'm sitting here going we haven't finished our volcanos! Did the reading circle go around twice? Is that the time do I feed them a full lunch and hope they eat dinner. What's the dog eating? I still haven't got all the materials measured out for lab tomorrow. We have volleyball practice tonight? What do you mean you don't have any clean shorts? Did we get in that many hours for sure? I need to do objectives for next weeks lessons. And check yesterday and today's journal entries. Did I kiss Honeybear goodbye? Oh no part of his lunch is sitting here. Gotta run that to him after practice. Is there enough hours left after the kids go to bed to research the five different topics the kids asked about today? Did the trash bill get paid? What's today? Or since it's after midnight does it count as tomorrow?

      Does everyone see the parallels to our universes? If not I can't put it any other way, we're all moms. All balancing a million things, praying our brains keep our lists prioritized and organized and just trying to drink enough coffee to keep us going on nothing else but a half eaten chicken nugget and a questionable yogurt.

Friday, June 6, 2014

Homeschooling, Hillbillying, Family Oriented Humor.....Sounds about right

     You might have noticed the nice, bright, yet simplistic background change. If anyone just thought, "Nah, I just come here to read, didn't really notice." Well bless your little heart. Anyone whose read my blog posts more than once knows that the thread that holds them all together is colorful and distinct: homeschooling, hillbillying, family oriented humor. I hope that thread stays woven deeply into this blog.

     But some of the background elements have changed drastically from whence we originated. Namely the children can now all pronounce assassination....and we live "in town" with very little room to homestead. *sad face*  (I can't help but giggle to think of any of my true city slickers who came to see our "town"- all six blocks of it.)

    The minions are no longer sweet little children that adorable and appalling truths spill out of unchecked. (Still truthful just not as cute coming from an eleven year old as a six year old.) I still have moments when I want to look at them with an incredulous look and proclaim loudly, "Who are you calling Mom?" Sometimes I smugly grin and say, "Yeah, they're all mine."

     I have learned to not just say, "Oh yeah, they're homeschooled." Usually that's the last fact I give people. It skips a lot of hassle. But alas, my proud manner of exclamation of this information in their younger years has led them by example and now most often it's out of my hands. (Since I am still very proud of homeschooling I haven't flat out told them not to tell people that.)

    Honeybear is over thirty (with a better beard than most the guys on Duck Dynasty) and in a few weeks time I will hit that particular milestone myself. *happy dance* Weird, I know, but I am so thrilled to not be a twenty something with four kids. I hope to not see the people doing rapid appraisal of our family and start asking ridiculously rude and personal questions. (No, I gathered the neighbors kids up before I left....or No I don't know how that happens. Please tell me so I can prevent it next time. My two favorite responses to the stupidest question I hear repeatedly.)

      So here we sit years later, hopefully you still enjoy my writing. (I'd like to think I'm pretty witty on occasion.) I hope to be entertaining and enthralling y'all for a long time to come...all three of you.

Monday, June 2, 2014

Mother's Guilt

     It's summer vacation!!! FREEEEEDDDOOM! Yeah, no, not really. I never escape. I've only left once and not felt extreme mother's guilt. You know mother's guilt surely? That is where you leave your precocious children with their father or some other safe person that isn't you. As you close the door you take a deep breath and relax for a millisecond....then the guilt hits.

     At first I always believed it to be because I could hear a child saying bye bye mama and felt I was shirking my motherly duty of being their everything. (chauffeur, cook, nurse, teacher, maid, slave, etc) Now I know the truth...the guilt is because I'm happy to have a moment to myself. Now don't get me wrong. I cherish my children. I just want to hug them, and squeeze them, and call them George. Sometimes I want to squeeze the orneriness out of them but hey who doesn't.

     The point is in over eleven years I've nurtured them to be these amazing and independent individuals and still feel like I'm doing something wrong by not being there when they need to come running to me. For goodness sakes I might be picking out a cantaloupe when they have an epiphany on dark matter. Their attention spans being equivalent to a guppy's the whole world could blame me for years to come when they find out it took them years to grasp the concept again. Our time machines will be twenty years later than they should have been. And it will be all my fault for leaving to go grocery shopping in peace.

     As the years have gone by the guilt has eased. When Degan came along was the first time I was so selfish as to dare leave them behind to go grocery shopping. I managed to do two weeks of shopping in twenty minutes. Elbows flying, cart wheels screeching around corners, I probably looked like a crazy woman putting my arm out and just shoving a whole row of cans into the basket as I zoomed down the aisle veering out of the path of some coupon queen. (The air horn was probably a little much but it was effective for getting people out of the way.) I sped back to the house and ran inside the words of "Mommy's back." died on my lips as I saw they were all exactly where I had left them. Honeybear came and kissed me asking if I'd forgotten something. I just shook my head as I watched him deftly change a diaper and grab the next one as she crawled past.The next time I left the air horn at home.

       Last week the glory that is guiltless happened. I had been up to my eyeballs in kids for a few days. Friends of the kids were in and out. I had not been able to even go to the bathroom without someone rattling the knob needing a bandaid, more koolaid, an argument settled. (Trust me I kept trying to escape from the mob and that door at least has a lock.) So finally I walked out looked at Honeybear and said, "Honey I'm going to run over to Britty Bacon's for a bit." He spared me a glance, "Okay."
 I stopped in the middle of my hunt for my other shoe and looked at him. "No really. I might not even come back."
 Not even looking at me, "See ya in an hour tops. But if you do make it to her house, have fun."
I stopped searching completely at this. "You don't want me to go, do you?"
He sighed and looked at me then, "I wish you would go. And stay away for a bit. They're old enough and I'm here. Go have fun...if you remember what that is without kids."
Right then I spotted my elusive shoe and gingerly wiggled into it without looking at him. Grabbed my keys, walked over to him, kissed him while searching his face. "I'm leaving now."
I walked out to the car, looked back at the house waiting for the mob to come throw themselves at my feet pleading with me to not leave them...nothing but shrieks of laughter from the backyard and treehouse. I pulled out took a breath....nothing. So I cranked the music and joyfully and blissfully spent the next couple of hours in quiet enjoyment with an adult who doesn't have children therefore even the conversation was mostly missing of children. Took eleven years but it did happen.

       I have looked at this as the beginning of the end. My children don't need me the way they use to, this was just a small slice of what is to come. Sooner than I realize I will have an empty nest. So I guess the guilt will eventually leave me entirely. By then I'll probably miss the guilt cause then my children will be so busy I'll be the one trying to get a little of their attention. Till then I'll just breath and wait.

Friday, May 23, 2014


     When I started this blog a couple of years ago I was in a bubble on our homestead with young, precocious children without a care in the world. Things have changed so much since then. I find having a couple of preteens and all four actively homeschooled leaves me very little time for things like writing, painting, being carefree...not to mention more important things like bathing in peace or making the bed. I can't even keep a straight face on that line, I don't remember the last time either of those happened.

      But one thing I have noticed is parenting has gotten a lot harder. Just since Bella has been born parenting has become so trendsetting theories are everywhere. Things have gotten so out of hand people compete to see who can be the most zen and creative best friend their kids have ever seen. (I'm sorry but I'm not even going to consider baby bird feeding my kids.) I've tried to show the light hearted side of motherhood but now realize my bubble made me see my children's childhood in rose colored glasses (or maybe rainbow colored ones on more exciting days.)

      Because of those glasses being so rudely broken (four kids is it really that surprising they're broken?) I thought maybe I'd just tear it down to brass tacks. By that I'm going to do the very thing that drives me crazy, I'm going to tell you exactly how to fail as a parent. No, you didn't read that last sentence wrong I said FAIL!

     Your probably all shaking your head thinking that's it she's finally lost it. My response....finally? I lost it the moment I found out I was going to be a mom. I devoured every book I could find. Thought I had all the answers, smirked when Martin slept through the night the first night home from the hospital. And then the second day home came......

     I have tried every method of discipline known, looked at every psycho babble that came along, promised not to yell, find myself yelling, promised a million different times I was going to not screw up this gig. Guess what I fail every time I make that promise. I am not my kids' best friend, they don't always like me, and sometimes I'm not sure if they'll all survive till dinner without mommy hiding in the corner rocking and babbling to herself. (I find a great deal of relief in knowing I'm not the only parent that fails to keep it perfectly together everyday.)

       Guess what kids are individuals. They know right from wrong. They have different tastes in everything from clothes to music to activities they enjoy. They get punished differently. They are very afraid when they get caught. (As they should be.) But are they afraid of me? Not on your life. They're afraid of the punishment. Do they think if I don't explain every decision their father and I make they feel like they're not members of this family? lol That one is just utterly ridiculous. Do they understand life isn't fair and sometimes things just don't go your way? What kind of parent would I be if I led them to believe that the world would bend to their every whim while under our roof, then threw them out in the real world to find out the truth.  I let them fail. And their failures are their own.

         Once again you're probably rereading that last sentence going what? That's right. They fail and it's their fault. I don't fix it for them. But Honeybear and I are right there to help them up and give them the tools to fix it themselves. And hopefully I fail to step in enough that they learn to fix their problems themselves and not rely on others while they sit in the middle of their mess going but it's not my fault. (Remember the age old adage "Your raising the next generation." I'd like them not to be boomerang babies.)

        Notice I've refrained from mentioning one concrete piece of advice or disciplinary tactics? Because children and families aren't cookie cutters! What works for Martin doesn't work for Degan or Madison. The only two things that in general terms holds for every child and parent is...1) know your child and 2) there has yet to be a perfect parent in the history of humanity the only thing you can hope for is you don't screw up to badly.  So how do you fail at being a parent? You get pregnant.


Friday, March 21, 2014

Super Gypsy

     Yeah, yeah, I know you feel mistreated. I get back to writing and suddenly stop again. I 'm a big tease. You're not talking to me, you mean it this time. Yeah, I get it. But come on I have chocolate. Okay, so I can't really share cause Wonka Vision doesn't exist. Hey it's the thought that counts.

    So a lots changed this winter. I don't mean just not having Pops around or settling into town living.  I mean- this winter I got another ear infection and went deaf. Completely. Yeah, I'll sit back while you all gasp in horror and give me mental hugs. . . Not so tight people. Geeze. I'm deaf not dead. The fact of the matter is it's not big a difference from what I hear anyways. My hearing has gotten so bad it's more like I catch a letter sound than a word, if I'm lucky. I've gotten great at speech reading people.

    And something amazing came out of it. Gypsy Rose is now my Hearing Dog. Yes, I'm serious the queen bee has come down off the throne to be my ears. Truthfully she's been doing it for longer than I can remember, I just didn't realize she could do it away from home. Let me give you the mental picture.

     A wide-eyed, crazy looking woman is preceded by a small black pug with a bright orange leash and lettered vest. You notice a car coming around the aisle of the parking lot quicker than they're suppose to. The crazy looking dog lady isn't looking at the tire squealing vehicle and is walking right into it's path. You start to jump up and down to get either her attention or the drivers. And then you notice the small dog cross in front of her and sits preventing her from going forward. She looks down with a slightly puzzled look and starts looking around. This all happens quicker than ten seconds but she notices the car and starts waving her hands at the dog.

    Sounds like fiction probably, right? That's actually exactly what Gypsy did for me the first time I took her in public with the intention of seeing if she'd benefit me. But it was really a ride on floor sweeper in Sam's club. (The car one came a few weeks later, and scared the reese's pieces out of me.) I nervously took her place to place at first. Waiting for a crowd to gather and point at me and say "Dogs aren't allowed in here!" It never came. And I realized how anxious I had become in public, and how that changed with Gypsy there. People didn't "sneak up" on me cause Gypsy blocked them. I knew exactly where my husband and kids were cause Gypsy told me. If we got separated it wasn't a frantic search in every direction I trusted Gypsy to take me to them. I even went to myself! *GASP*

    The weeks stretched on and after two different antibiotics my ear infection is gone, and gradually my hearing has "returned" at least for me.  But even with my aid things aren't clear. So Gypsy remains my constant companion.

    **Disclaimer: This should not be an tried unless your dog is specifically trained to a task and you are disabled. Gypsy is a highly unusual case. She has been trained and conditioned to do this at home for the past couple of years as my hearing declined. Which is the only reason she can be classified as a service dog. And she is exceptionally obedient to me and super socialized. Do not take your dog in public just because.**

Friday, January 17, 2014

trapping the children

    So not only is Honeybear the principal he sometimes takes on the role of student too. No, I don't make him sit in class or write sentences for misbehavior... but now that you mention it. No. No. It wouldn't work his handwriting will always look like a chicken was scratching at the paper.

    Okay back on point forget my shiny moment. As I was saying sometimes he becomes his children's student. This gives them a great way to really learn and comprehend what I've been teaching them. It also serves me with a purpose...revenge. Look at today's lesson with their daddy and you will understand why.

Madison: Okay today we are goin' to talk about crust and core.

Honeybear: I don't mind the crust on my sandwiches.

Martin: No dad. Like Earth.

Honeybear: Of course I like Earth I'm a human.

Degan: NO! Layers of Earth.

Honeybear: You found Batman's lair?! Awesome.

Martin: (hand to his forehead) No. We mean like the mantle that moves-

Honeybear: Pappaw has two mantles and they don't move.

Madison: Daddy! Pay attention.

Honeybear: Why?

Madison: You won't learn if you don't.

(CRASH! That's the sound of the trap closing that Honeybear just set.)

Honeybear: Really? But I watched you yesterday and it didn't seem like you were.

(Dead silence as they realized they have just been caught in the principal's snare. Mwhahahahahaha.)

     At this point they all look wide eyed and stumped. Honeybear gives them their warning and the lesson continues. Martin and Madison grab their white boards and draw a diagram. As they hold it up and start talking Honeybear interrupts with "What's an egg frying got to do with Earth?" Okay so their diagrams did kinda look like eggs but they completely disagreed.

    Degan saved the day his explanation was great. "Dad, you're absolutely right. It does look like an egg and it's kinda like a fried egg. The yolk is liquid and hot like the core. The white is like the mantle semi solid but still sloshy. And the pan holding it in is the crust."

    The lesson went on as they tend to. But I was proud my youngest had such a grasp of the material and saw such an astute connection to explain to his dad.
Tomorrow should be interesting they're suppose to teach him about forces that refigure the Earth. Hmmmm if Honeybear was teaching I might worry he'd go all Animal House on them and show them a volcano with whip cream or something in his mouth and show them what happens when forces is exerted to it.

Why me?

    Seems Honeybear has taken a game the kids started years ago and become a supreme master. Let's just say as the years have gone on Gypsy Rose no longer sees any point in protecting me from "assilenation" attempts.  In fact at times she is solely responsible for these attacks.

     This all started with a simple request at Honeybear's break time. (He calls at 8:30 on break to say goodnight.) After saying night to the kids, we get a few minutes of idle chatter, tonight it went something like this...

Honeybear: Might be home early.

Me: So what does that mean tonight?

Honeybear: (playfully) I expect you to be up with a snack and drink. Ready to take off my boots and give me a foot massage. Like every good wife should when their husband gets home from work.

Me: (laughing) Well aren't you glad I don't hold myself to the standards of others.

Honeybear: You're slacking woman! Where's my pie?

Me: Now Honeybear what kind of wife would I be if I disregarded your whining about gaining weight? No pie till you lose...twenty pounds. Trim your beard up and you might hit your goal quicker and get pie...tomorrow.

Honeybear: (mockingly growls) Woman what'd I say!

Me: Bring me a coke.

Honeybear: No!

Me: (nonchalantly) M'kay no foot rub.

(By now we're both laughing. I mean if you can't give your spouse a hard time what's going to break up the day to day, right? At this point it's also time for him to go back to work so we say good night, he goes back I go tuck in.)

     After prayers and tuck in I get the holy hour otherwise known as MOM TIME!
This is where I actually do my own thing. No schoolwork, housework, or anything other than purely selfish pampering. I watch a mindless uneducational show and paint my toes or something for a few before finishing up the days tasks. (Why not do that after the day's work is done? Did you not read my schedule last week? There is never an end! I must divide and conquer!)

    Anyways after Mom time and more work I sat down to look through our texts book and devise a science project for this week and...fell asleep.

    Sometime later I come to complete alertness to a deep growl and a dark figure reaching for me. I scream bloody murder as I see the inhuman girth of this creature with horns reaching for me and strike out at its nose. It jumps back laughing and the light is no longer at its back.

     Yeah you guessed it...Honeybear. One of these the moon Alice!

Ps. The inhuman girth was Honeybear still wearing his coveralls. His horns? He really needs a trim to his curls.

Friday, January 10, 2014

i miss sesame street

     Yeah, yeah I have been quiet again. You try homeschooling four different grades with the holidays and everything going on and see if you have sanity left to string words together. As we get deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole of homeschooling it takes more and more hours of prep and schooling.

     When they were little we finger painted, watched sesame street, counted animal crackers, and practiced the alphabet and felt accomplished. Now I have to stair step through math, science, geography, social studies, language arts, history, art, asl, and reading. All while planning around my husband and other needs. (Although I'd be lying if I said the break from scouts, sports, and farming/gardening this last nine months hasn't been awesome.)

My routine looks something like this:
730 wake up, let dogs out, cook
8  feed kids, dogs, cats, and other assorted animals
845 clean up from the above step
9  shoo the kids away to do assigned reading
905 to 935 look for said assigned reading books that magically moved since          yesterday
935 go back to cleaning only to find the mess has taken my absence to get
        amorous and multiply
1030 start Honeybear's breakfast
11  clean up from second breakfast making, tell kids to start writing
1115 pausing to break up the fight over pencils for writing
12  start lunch, threaten kids with principal if they don't finish chores and
1210 let dogs out and back in three times in a row cause they really need to
         go but it's too cold for them
1  serve lunch
130 pack Honeybear's lunch box, locate specific hoody that has made a break
         for it since he set it down
2   tell kids to get ready for school core (bathroom, hair combed, homework
         ready to turn in etc.)
230 Honeybear leaves, school core starts along with dishwasher
645-8 school hours are over, dinner is started, kids tv time 
830  Honeybear calls on break
9 to 915 bedtime routine
915 to ? repeatedly tell kids to go to sleep, turn tv on to a mom show and check
       over school work and plan or alter school projects and objectives while
       letting dogs in and out for final time of the night and the cat meows

But the bonus of all this extra school and kids getting older? They help out more with keeping the house up. So heh who cares I'd rather plan how to build bones than do dishes any day.