Friday's Feast, 30 November 2007

Appetizer
What is your favorite carnival/amusement park ride?

The roller coaster.  I love roller coasters, and this love has been passed down to both Ashlyn and Haley, who can't get enough of them.  Of course, they probably got it from Scott.

Soup
How do you react in uncomfortable social situations?

The first thing I do is try to find someone else who is as uncomfortable as I am and then I discreetly make sure they are uncomfortable for all the same reasons.  Then we stand off to the side and make inappropriate comments about whatever is happening.  Then I blog about it.  If no one else is uncomfortable then I just excuse myself and go off to the bar.  Ha Ha!

Salad
On a scale of 1-10 with 10 being highest, how much do you enjoy discussing deep, philosophical topics?

1.  And to prove it, that's all I'm going to say about it.

Main Course
Did you get a flu shot this year? If not, do you plan to?

No, I did not get the flu shot this year, nor did I get it last year or the year before that.  It's just not something we do.  My kids have only gotten it once, and that was back when I believed everything doctors told me.  

Dessert
Approximately how many hours per week do you spend watching television?

I don't watch tv in real time.  Once you get a tivo machine you start to believe that you are just too good for that sort of thing and no way will you ever again waste your time watching commercials.  So to answer the question, I watch lots of shows, but no commercials, so I can't figure out the total amount of time it takes to watch them.  My tivo list is extensive; it currently includes the following:

Extreme Makeover Home Edition

Desperate Housewives

Brothers and Sisters

Heroes

The Biggest Loser

Private Practice

Real Housewives of the OC

Gray's Anatomy

Frank TV

The Next Great American Band

UFC

Pimp My Ride

Hip Hop Harry 

And let me take just a moment and say that Hip Hop Harry is by far my favorite show.  I don't know if any of you watch it, but it comes on Discovery Kids at 9am and noon here.  It's a giant bear and he raps and the little kids hip hop dance and it's totally geared towards people who are, um, not me, but I love it and even better Skylar loves it.  The bear starts yelling "Hip Hop" and the kids yell "Harry!" and Skylar's little head whips around and she just starts dancing like a fool.  I'm trying to teach her to wave her arms in the air when they do that part.  Tina, you would be sooo proud!  No, we never, ever, miss Hip Hop Harry.  Oh, and I know the time on that one.  30 minutes.  It's 30 straight minutes of rump shaking, break dancing, arm waving, and rapping by the cutest little future Britneys and Kevins that you've ever laid eyes on.  And they teach stuff too.  The first time I saw it I was so amazed I couldn't look away and afterwards I couldn't remember if they teach anything or not, but as I've continued to watch it I've been able to focus a little more and I've come to realize that while it's certainly convenient that "Harry" rhymes with "library", this show teaches that just about any two words rhyme if you say them fast enough.  So yeah, it's entertaining AND informational.  What more could you want for your 10 month old?  

My Hero!

Last night in Chattanooga there was a multi-car accident.  There was an 18 month old child ejected from one of the cars, and the driver of the car, a male, picked up the child and attempted to leave the scene.  A nurse from Erlanger Medical Center was on her way home, heard that a child had been injured, and stopped to help.  

She saw the man leaving with the child and approached him and tried to communicate, but he didn't speak English.  So she used hand motions to try to get him to understand and try to get him to put down the baby.  At first he refused, but she persisted and stayed with him until the paramedics got there, at which point he handed over the child.

It turns out that the man had kidnapped the child!  I don't know if they know why, but I've heard that it could have been a drugs/ransom type thing, but that could be a rumor.  So I guess the guy was trying to get away from the scene with the child before he was caught.  Who knows what would have happened to the baby if he had succeeded.  

And here's the kicker.  The nurse was none other than Kendall, my cousin Adam's girlfriend!  I've known Kendall for years, and she is such a great person, and this just proves it!  My girls love her to death, and on top of being a great nurse, she trained as a masseuse too and gives great massages.  I can't say enough good things about Kendall, and what Adam's waiting for, I don't know, but I'm fixing to call him and see when he's going to make an honest woman out of her.  I'm sure he'll appreciate that!  

Thank God for people like Kendall, who react the way we all hope we would react if a crises occurred.  She is an angel, plain and simple.

Overheard (loudly) in the bathroom at Burger King

"Owen, it's very dirty in here, so we're going to just stand up and peepee, okay?  Don't touch anything."

"But Mommy!  Is it okay for me to touch my tallywhacker?"

(I swear, I am this close to just giving up.)

Show-off

Recently there has been a resurgence in mega bloks around here. I'm telling you, we love the mega bloks. Not to be confused with legos, mega bloks are bigger and Skylar cannot swallow them, try as she might. So we had 450 mega bloks, which I see I wrongly identified as legos in my previous post about them. We still have all 450; I know this because periodically I count them, hoping to prove a point "See! You do not keep up with your stuff! No way am I buying you a pony!" but somehow they have managed to keep up with every single one of them. Their shoes? Not so much. But the mega bloks? You can bet your ass they're all still in the box.

Now it seems we are in the middle of a mega block frenzy and WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH MEGA BLOKS. 150 apiece is just not enough to build anything worthwhile, and of course Scott has to build too, and this leads to the whining that I am so adamently against. Monday morning there was an unfortunate accident involving (and I'm trying to be really strong here and talk about it) the top and bottom of one of Scott's uniforms, an ink pen, and *sniff* my dryer. And oh, there was yelling, and lots and lots of bad words, and more yelling, and we almost lost the dryer. Thankfully she pulled through, but sadly, Scott's best back-up uniform did not make it. Owen and I went on post to buy another one, which they did not have, so we went to the BX and found more mega bloks. 180 more, to bring us to a grand total of 630.

We brought them home and opened the box and to our absolute! delight! found that this box not only had the red, blue and yellow bloks, but purple and two shades of green. The girls came home from school and they all sat down to play and you know what? WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH MEGA BLOKS. No, no, no, with the addition of the new mega bloks doors of opportunity are practically blowing off their hinges and no one wants to share. So I took away the mega bloks, and the whining commenced, and then, then I got a migraine. I get probably two migraines a month. Yes, I should probably see a doctor, but, oh, let's not get started on the quality of our health care here at Goodfellow AirForce Base. So, in an effort to attain quiet, I put Shrek the Third on repeat play and that seemed to work.

Tuesday I went shopping on ebay. So any day now 425 additional mega bloks should arrive at my house, which means we will have 1055.

And we had a contest (before the addition of the green and purple bloks), and there had to be a winner, because we live with Scott, and what's the point of playing if we don't vote on a winner, so Ashlyn was the judge because I can't be the judge since I always vote for Owen. But in my defense, it's hard not to vote for him because, well, have you seen the kid? He's just about the cutest thing ever, and he has these huge brown eyes, and he comes up and gives you that look that he learned from the cat in Shrek and says "I made you Mommy, don't you like it?" and of course I vote for him. Plus, he gets sooo excited when he wins and it makes him like me more.

So Ashlyn judged and Scott, Haley, and Owen all made something and I took pictures:

Owen's entry was a building with a fence, but he said if you tilt your head a little bit it looks like me.

Haley made a palm tree.

Scott, clearly overestimating the level of ability in his competitors, made a duck.

I think I forgot the question

"Hey Mama, do you know what really pisses Mrs. Owens off?"

(me choking on my taco salad)

"When it's cold outside and people wear short sleeves and no coat.  It messes up recess for us.  Yeah...that really pisses Mrs. Owens off."

Because how you poop defines you

"Did Skylar poop?"

"Yeah, she did, I'm changing it."

"Can I see it?"

"Owen, why do you want to see her poop?"

"I just want to look and--HEY!  that's not baby poop!  That's poop balls.  That's like my poop."

"Well, I guess."

"That's like people poop!  Why is she pooping like that?"

"Uh..."

"You know, I think she must be turning into a real live person!"

Friday's Feast, 23 November 2007

Appetizer
What was your first “real” job?

I worked at Belk in the mall while I was going to JUCO.  If you don't count all the hours and hours I spent vacuuming the stupid swimming pool.  

Soup
Where would you go if you wanted to spark your creativity?

Hobby Lobby.  Or a closet.  I get all creative and organizational whenever I go into a closet.  Any kind of closet.  It doesn't matter.  I think if we had a Container Store I would work there, and when I grow up I want to be a Professional Space Planner.  Well, either that or I want drive 18-Wheelers with Scott and one day be on Trick My Truck.  I haven't fully decided yet.  I figure whatever I choose will probably involve more school though, and I hate school, but I think my college degree might have expired by now.  

Salad
Complete this sentence: I am embarrassed when…

...ever I take my kids to the post office.  What is it about the post office that makes my kids act like retards?  Every single freakin time.  Somebody please help me out with this one because for the life of me I HAVE NO IDEA.

Main Course
What values did your parents instill in you?

Never quit.  Be honest.  Maybe I should stop so I don't get all teary.

Dessert
Name 3 fads from your teenage years.

big hair (which I hope catches back on one day)

Sebegos (and holy crap they still make them, in lots of styles and colors!)

tight rolling your jeans (and if your feet were numb you knew you were doing it right)

Not a fan, will never be a fan

My mother took me to the mall today shopping for the kids' Christmas presents.  I spent the majority of my time hiding out in the shoe department of JCPenney's fearing for my life.  I honestly do not understand how people can possibly enjoy going out on a day like today and fighting the crowds, just to save an extra 10% off a pair of $20 jeans.

Tonight we were watching the news and they were showing video taken this morning at Target.  It was a special report about just how much you can save by going out and getting run over by shopping buggies.  There was a girl in line paying for some item, I don't know what it was, but the reporter asked her how much money she was saving by being in line at 3am.  And this was her answer:

"Oh, gosh, this was only $80, and it's regularly $120.  So I'm saving, like, $60 or $70!  It's TOTALLY WORTH IT!"

People!  So this is why this shopping day is so appealing to so many of you?  Because you can't subtract?  And I bet her friends and family saw her on the news and called her and were all like "No, no, no, $120 minus $80 is $40, you saved $40."  

I wonder if it's still totally worth it after you look like a jackass on the local news?

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you and eat some turkey and all that blah blah blah. Today Scott dressed up in his bus driver suit and went to feed the soldiers up at the chow hall. On his end of the serving line was his 1st Sgt, Brian, and the Colonel, Col Chester. Also there was Sgt Maj Sanchez but we don't count him when we think of fun and fancy free. I'm told that people came down their serving line not for the food but for the entertainment value alone. Plus Scott managed to not get anything on his coat while cutting turkey, so that's worth mentioning.

My mom flew in on Saturday. She landed about 1:15 and we made it back to the house by 1:45. By 2:15 she had all 4 kids at the park, so I took a nap. On Sunday she got up and took all 4 kids back to the park, so I took a nap. On Monday at 9:30am she packed all 4 kids in the car and went to WalMart, stayed gone 2 1/2 hours, and I took a nap. And if you think you might spot a pattern here, you would be correct.

Tuesday my dad drove in and he got here about 10pm. With both dogs. Ashlyn, Haley and Owen immediately started climbing all over him like crazy because they didn't see how he could possibly be tired since he'd "been sitting down all day long." Skylar shunned Pops, thereby solidifying her place right alongside Mary Kate on the list titled People Who Will Receive No Inheritance From Pops.

Wednesday night during a wrestling session involving 3 kids and one older man who may never fully recover from this trip Skylar decided that all the laughing must mean that it was fun, not scary and she might want deep down to play too. She crawled over with a delighted look on her face and attempted to grab Pops' shirt but right at that moment Pops jumped up because he didn't see her and Skylar fell over flat on her back. She screamed and cried huge tears and everyone yelled at Pops, especially Nana.

Today we cooked Thanksgiving dinner but Nana and I had to make a quick trip to WalMart because there was something wrong with my sage so we needed new sage and we would have been back much sooner but I got caught helping a man that you could honestly say was older than dirt on the medicine aisle. And no, it wasn't that he needed a certain cold medicine or some tylenol on the top shelf. Nope. He needed diarrhea medicine. A little green pill, he said. And people, do you know how many different types of diarrhea medicine WalMart sells? 18. I know this because I had to read the label on every single one to this old man, who eventually settled on the Equate brand, which did not come in little green pill form, but he was convinced nonetheless that when he opened the bottle the pills would be green. It's amazing what we will suffer through just because Santa is watching.

So that's our weekly recap, the abridged version.

Tomorrow we are going shopping. Not the crack of dawn, crazy possessed, knock down drag out over Wiis or lite brites shopping, but the leisurely, after lunch we might go to the mall shopping. This will be like facing my worst fear-the crowds, the shoving, the crowds... This is the first Friday After Thanksgiving shopping I will be participating in since we lived in Hawaii. We are not taking any children with us so that means no strollers so that means I have a good chance of getting through it without having a breakdown like I did that one time in the bathroom of the Pearl Harbor Naval Exchange Mall. But I just don't feel confident enough about it to promise.

Friday's Feast, 15 November 2007

Appetizer
Which snack do you like to get when you go to the movies?

I do not go to the movies.  I hate the movies.  

Soup
What year did you start using the internet?

1999

Salad
What is your first name in Pig Latin? (Here’s how to speak it if you don’t already know!)

Enniferjay

Main Course
Name something you are picky about.

It pisses me off to no end when people put clothes into the laundry inside out.  It's the little things, people.  The LITTLE THINGS.

Dessert
Fill in the blanks: I ____ ____ yesterday and I ____ ____ today.

ate italian

ate chinese

So that makes me older than...uh...dirt

Yesterday afternoon the girls and I went antiquing.

"Mama!  This stuff looks really really old!"

"Yeah, some of it is pretty old."

"Wow.  I mean, this stuff looks like it came from the 80s!"

The Dare

Last night Scott dared me that I couldn't run from the bathroom across our bedroom, jump over the cedar chest, and do a front flip over the footboard of the bed. (I mean, he's coming up with crap like this all the time, though usually it's directed at the kids, like "I bet you can't jump from the roof to the trampoline and then do a double-flip off the bounce and land in the swimming pool. Here, let me lift you up to the roof!" And the kids all try and then we have to go to the emergency room and lie to child services and whatnot about what really happened.) Of course he did it on the first try and it really looked easy, so I'm all "I can SO do that!" and he's all "Well let's see it big mouth!" What transpired next brought a few things to my attention:
1. I am old.
2. I am not limber.
3. I think I may have injured my shoulder.

Had the dare not involved the cedar chest I'm pretty sure I could have done it on the first try. But having to jump and clear the cedar chest and the footboard, which is made of iron bars, at the same time is tough, let me tell you. Not only do you need the height, you also need the distance. Basically you had to dive over the cedar chest, catch the footboard with your hands, and use your upper body strength to keep your head from banging into the iron bars while you tuck your legs and flip your body over. You also have to account for the ceiling fan, which was on medium speed at the time and hangs right over where you are flipping.

AND I SO DID IT! I'm not going to say how many tries it took me to do it though. I will only say it was double digits. Of course I wasn't going to give up until I did it, because the whole time Scott was saying how there was just no way in heck I would ever make it. Then Scott's all "Now do it with no hands!" and of course he does it on his first freakin try. I think it may be the new thing we do at all our parties.

I feel like a total bad ass. And Scott really didn't think I could do it, so he was highly impressed.

But good grief, my shoulder hurts like a mother.

Field Trip #2

Today Owen was scheduled to go on the second field trip of his short preschool career. The plan was to put all the 3 year olds on a bus and drive over to Fort Concho, where I'm betting not one single kid would understand what the heck anybody was talking about. However, without a doubt those people over at the "3 Rs Ranch" on Goodfellow AFB are striving for excellence, and totally believed the kids would fall in love with the whole historic experience. Owen did not fully comprehend where exactly they were going, and I would bet the farm if he had he would have refused to get on the bus, given what happened the last time we went to Fort Concho.

The bus carrying all the 3 year olds made it all the way off post before it broke down.

Somehow they got it started again and got to "you know, that place where they keep the buses, to try to switch to another one." That little gem of information came straight from Owen's teacher, word for word. I don't know why she didn't know the actual name of the place where they keep the buses, since there was probably a sign or two there, but before I could really wrap my head around the fact that Owen's teacher was so oblivious that she wasn't completely sure of where she was she told me that while they were "looking for another bus" the kids all went inside the place with no name and "watched cartoons on the little tv they had." At that point I really started to feel like I needed to count backwards from, oh, one thousand or so, while the level of stress in my body returned to a managable level and my eyesight fully returned.

It turns out they couldn't get another bus, so they put the kids back on the one that had just broken down and made it back to the preschool without further incident.

The good news is all the kids thought they went on a field trip to some place to watch cartoons.

And they absolutely loved it.

The Conference

Yesterday up at that drama pit of an elementary school where my kids attend there was an incident that indirectly involved Haley so now tomorrow I have to go up and talk to the principal about it. Let's face it, before Haley was 2 we all knew this day would come; even my mother told me I'd better just get a parking spot right by the front door, because I'd be up there all the time sorting out her messes. This feeling was further enforced the first day of preschool when Haley was only 3 years old and she punched a little boy because "he tried to stand in my spot."

This time, however, I am proud to say that Haley has not done anything wrong. But now I've got my fur all up and I've got an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. And the principal...well, this is going to sound bad, really bad, so I'm just going to go ahead with it, because right now I'm a little ticked so I don't feel as badly about saying it. The principal is a total babe. Right down to her 5 inch heels, extra short skirts, bleached hair and mile long red fingernails. For the entire first year Ashlyn went to school there I was confused as to why they allowed a stripper to run around on the campus. I am not joking, she could so easily be the "exotic dancer" at Da Club down the street from my house where all of Scott's underage soldiers who are not supposed to be traveling off base at any time go to get drunk. And her name is Cheri for God's sake.

I feel really bad, because I'm such a superficial ass to look at her and have a hard time with the fact that she is the principal, but I do. So I've got to go spend an hour with her (and Owen and Skylar) and try to have a serious conversation with her, all the while knowing that her whole life people have probably not been able to get past her looks and gee that must have been tough while at the same time thinking how life is just not fair for all us ugly folk. Also, if you don't want to be viewed as Hooker Barbie, then don't dress like her.

Anyway, I have several things I would like to discuss with her, which include but are not limited to:

1. It's become painfully obvious in the last few weeks that the first graders up at that school need a little more supervision than they are currently receiving.

2. I need a little clarification on what is and is not an appropriate way to spend the school day. I feel like there needs to be more focus on teaching and less focus on petty issues that are always going to come up when you are surrounded by 6 year olds.

3. I do not appreciate the use of scare tactics by another individual on my kid. As her mother, I can parent her however the heck I want to, but as a teacher you should be held to a little higher standard than that. Threats? Really?

4. As a teacher, don't lie to my kid. Also, don't lie to my kid and expect her not to lie back.

There is also a small issue at preschool with Owen, because they have the long ropes with the rings hanging on them that they use for walks and Owen apparently refuses to hold a ring and just walks whichever way he feels like walking. But that's for another day. I'm pacing myself. Hell, it's 38 degrees here in the mornings and I can't get the boy to put on a coat. Do you really think I can make him hold some plastic ring when I'm not even there? Because if you do then you are really really overestimating my super powers.

Brutal

"What did you have for lunch today at preschool?"

"Chicken!"

"Did you eat it?"

"Yeah."

"Was it good?"

"Yeah!"

"Was it better than mommy's chicken?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Owen!  You hurt my feelings!  You're supposed to say that mommy's chicken is the best chicken."

"But mommy....that's lying."

The Passing of Time

It seems like forever ago and it seems like it was only yesterday at the same time.  In reality, it's been two years today.  Though looking back, if you consider the way the cancer ravaged her body, leaving her so utterly...unable, unable to sit up, unable to walk, unable to allow someone to carry her to the car and drive her to chemo, if you consider that, it's been longer than two years.  However long it's been since she's been gone, today is the date that will always stick in my mind.  

I've been aware this day was approaching for a while, but at the same time I was so afraid I would miss it.  That I would wake up and it would be the 6th, and I would have passed through today without a thought of her.  Maybe that would have been better.  

The end came quickly and quietly, with a doctor somewhere offering up some number of days, some arbitrary amount of time, information that no one wanted to hear or accept.  In reality, it came much quicker than expected, a beautiful frail lady surrounded by friends and family who never wanted to have to see such things, but watching anyway until her last shallow breath faded away.  I was not in that room;  I was several thousand miles away, across the country, celebrating at an early birthday party for Haley.  Later, my father would apologize for calling with the news during such a happy time.  But isn't that the way it should have been?  In my mind it was just another testament to the fact that life goes on.  That you can lose someone, but you still have so many more someone's in your life to be thankful for.  

Two days later I flew on a plane to her funeral.  I wore a bracelet she gave me the Christmas 11 months earlier, three months before the diagnosis, three months before she was even the least little bit sick.  It was a heavy silver Brighton bracelet, and before each leg of the flight it set off the metal detectors.  Finally, some airport security woman told me I should probably take it off and put it in my carry-on.  And I laid into her with everything I had.   How dare she tell me on the way to a funeral to take of a bracelet given to me by the very person who had died?  I didn't take the bracelet off until after the funeral.  But I haven't worn it since.    

          

So much has happened in these two years since she passed.  We shared the same birthday, and I had another one without her.  Babies that we never planned on were born, babies that we never thought would happen are happening, marriages that leave me so confused I don't know what to say about them were made, divorces of friends, and more sickness and death.  In other words, life has continued, however mundane, however exciting. 

My husband commands a company in which he is responsible for just over 400 people.  In the year and a half since he started this job I have seen a lot.  I have seen liars, cheaters, thieves, people whose characters are so questionable and bad all you can do is shake your head and count the days until you never have to see them or deal with them again.  That was never the case with her.  Though she was far from perfect she was someone everyone would have benefited from knowing.  She was a truly good person.  

So I am sad.  Not sad that I cannot call her, or see her, but sad because I know she is simply not here anymore.  And I can ask Why her? until I'm blue, but the real question is Why not her?  Why not someone I didn't know?  There was someone I didn't know who died that day.  There were hundreds of them all over the world.  Other people knew them, and they suffered too, and they asked Why her?  I will have loss in my life, just as everyone else will have too.  I can count on one had, and not use all my fingers, the people I've known who've died and affected me like this.  I am one of the lucky ones.  Life is full of hurt, but it is also full of hope.  I guess I feel I am beginning to get better.  

Today, on the two year anniversary of her death, my brother and his wife are sitting in a doctor's office with an ultrasound machine, finding out if their baby will be a boy or a girl.  They tried for so long and were so worried that they may not get this baby.  But it's in there, and it's fixing to get a gender and soon a name.  And I'm happy about that, happy for them.  It's all so hopeful.  And who doesn't need a little bit of hope? 

This isn't the best poem in the world.  There are so many other ones out there that are more eloquent, more beautiful.  But this poem is for my mother, who I'm sure is having a bad day.

Don't think of her as gone away-her journey's just begun

Life holds so many facets-this earth is only one

Just think of her as resting from the sorrows and the tears

In a place of warmth and comfort where there are no days and years

Think how she must be wishing that we could know today

How nothing but our sadness can really pass away

And think of her as living in the hearts of those she touched

For nothing loved is ever lost and she was loved so much.

My phone conversation with Cooter

(phone rings)
"Hello?"

"Hey! Who's this?"

"Um...who's this?"

"This is Cooter."

"Cooter?"

"Yeah, Cooter. Who's this?"

"Um..."

"I got a call from this number on my cell phone. It showed up on my caller ID. I didn't hear my phone ring so I didn't answer it."

"Oh! What is the area code of your number?"

"913."

"Was it about 11:30 or so last night?"

"Yeah!"

"Oh, I'm sorry about that. One of my husband's soldiers was at the hospital and he was trying to get a hold of him. I guess we had his old number."

"One of your husband's soldiers?"

"Yeah."

"Your husband is in the Army?"

"Yeah."

"Hey! AWESOME!"

"Um, yeah."

"What does he do?"

"Well, he's in Military Intelligence and-"

"Ooh! Does he know a lot of secrets and stuff?"

"I don't really think what he knows is necessarily secrets, but it's classified information and-"

"Classified information! That's so AWESOME!"

"Yeah, I guess it is."

"Hey! God bless your husband ma'am. And God bless you ma'am! I really appreciate it, ya know? Just...thank you. Thank you. I can't say thank you enough!"

"Um, okay, thank you."

"NO! Thank YOU! Hey, I gotta get back to the job. Talk to you later!"

"Um, okay. Bye Cooter."

"Bye. GOD BLESS AMERICA! WOOHOO!!"

The school called...

Every time the phone rings and I see "S A ISD" on the caller ID I cringe.  That stands for San Angelo Independent School District and it means that Haley has managed to convince someone that she is going to die if they don't let her call me right now.  Last year, I'm positive of this, they had me on their speed dial, and honestly, no lie, Haley called me twice a week.  She can get anyone to believe that she is sick, she can make herself throw up, and she can develop a fever on demand.  There were several times last year that I flat-out refused to go up to the school and get her, and once Scott even left work and drove over and threatened to take her to an orphanage if she did not go straight back to class.  

The first thing the lady told me after I confirmed that I was, in fact, Mrs. Starr was that both my kids were fine.  She then told me that one of the forms Haley had brought home for me to fill out was not signed at the bottom.  It seems that there are special grants and whatnot to be had if you have military kids in your school; this is per Amy, who knows everything there is to know about schools and good schools and bad schools and school rules and the like.  So the schools here send home forms once a month or so for parents to fill out with questions that seem to not pertain to anything, like "Have you or someone in your family worked on a farm in the last 6 months?"  I mean, seriously, what is that about?   And do marijuana farms count, or just real live farms?  These forms are hard!

I told the lady I had to pick up my son from preschool and then I'd be by to sign the form that for some reason she could not just send home with Haley again so I could sign it here.  She also told me that No, she couldn't just "sign it for me."  I don't know about you, but these office "helpers" don't seem to be very "helpful" to me.

I got Skylar up and changed her diaper and the thought occured to me that she hadn't taken her morning poop, as I notice and think about these sorts of things constantly.  We drove to the preschool and on the way Skylar complied and took a poop.  A HUGE one.  And my gosh did she stink to high heaven.  And I had no diaper in the car because I have no diaper bag.  I did buy a diaper bag on ebay and it was a Vera Bradley one and it was lovely, but Scott hated it from the moment I triumphantly pulled it out of the mailbox bragging about how I beat out all the other people bidding on it.  I think I carried it twice before I decided that yes, it was butt-ugly and I sold it on ebay for a higher price than I originally paid for it.  Score!  So then I bought another diaper bag on ebay that was super cute and homemade and it's about big enough to carry a pacifer, which we don't need to carry because Skylar carries that.  Which means we have no diaper bag to speak of.  I have rectified that by purchasing a really cool brown diaper bag with pink skulls on it and it should be delivered any day now but the post office here is the definition of "slacker" and really, who knows if it's coming or when.  

I carried Stinky Skylar into the school and Owen was sitting at a table counting the dots on the dominoes.  You know, I really wish I made this stuff up, but I don't.  That's what they're teaching him?  Anyway, he looked up and I noticed that his nose was all scratched up and he had a huge red bump on his forehead.  I asked Ms. Jeannette (which I sort of feel is an old lady name but she's like, 26) "What happened to his face?" and she told me that the playground was too wet for them to play on (I can't remember when it last rained) so they went to the volleyball courts to play and Owen fell and could I please sign this accident report for the school file.  It seems that a while back Ashlyn got hurt at school, and I was never asked to sign any "accident report."  Owen said his face didn't hurt, but that his friend Maleek told him there was blood on it.  

Then we drove to the girls' school to sign the paper I forgot to sign and I guess the poop was some alien kind because the smell intensified 100 times over and Skylar was almost climbing out of my arms in attempt to get away from it.  So she started crying.  And Owen started crying because I wouldn't allow him to go to Ashlyn and Haley's classrooms to see them.  Oh, and because I wouldn't go get them and bring them home with us.  So they were both crying, and Skylar's butt smelled so bad that my eyes were watering, and we came home and Owen wouldn't get out of the car, and Skylar screamed when I sat her down in the poopy diaper so I could go drag Owen inside, and finally I just gave up and started drinking.  Because when life throws you lemons you slap a little tequila on it and bam!  Now that's the lemonade I'm talking about!