Tune Twisters

(to the tune of..The Eensy Weensy Spider)

The fuzzy, furry Webkinz
Went to the Wheel of WOW.
It likes to play,
Whenever it is home.
Don't call it Zango
And try to shake its W-globe.
Cause it will start to scream like a girl
And say, "Cut that out!"

(to the tune of Frere Jacques)

I'll wear goo-goo goggles
To the spelling bee.
You'll wear wings
With some antennae.
Everyone will laugh a lot
When they see us spelling.
We'll look loquatious.
Quick lets sub-verbalize.

O-N/O-F-F Indicator

The Maven, font of wisdom that she is, wrote once "I am both overwhelmed and underwhelmed." Underwhelmed in the sheer mediocrity of the daily, repetitive, thankless, unnoticed tasks that make up such a large portion of my everyday life. Sweep the floor and one meal later, it needs swept again. Dusting the school desk takes 15 minutes, but who notices when it gets done. Dusting the miniature shelf takes even longer. Laundry--sort wash dry fold hang. Clean behind the toilet, every day, because Little Guy's aim still needs work. Come check the toilet every time Little Guy pees, because if he gets it all *in* the toilet, he gets a popsicle stick in his cup. Four popsicle sticks equals a Webkinz special recipe food item that he gets to pick out, sit on Mommy's lap to make on her account, then mail to his account through kinzpost. Fuss at Sweetling who is reading over my shoulder and not doing her vocabulary....

These are the things that consume my day.

And I love being a stay-home mom. And I love being a homeschooling mom. LOVE IT.

But every now and then the "underwhelmed but overwhelmed" thing really bugs me. Especially the overwhelmed part. Yesterday the mediocre housework just didn't get accomplished. Very little in school got accomplished either. Why? I have no idea. It wasn't because we had a Webkinz holiday. Or a playdate. Or errands to run. Or fun phone calls with friends. Or a good book to read. No. It just didn't get done. We were home all day. We were *trying* all day. The gears were turning, but the train was in neutral. And nothing got done. So, overwhelmed because I can't get whats on my plate done.

Foremost among these frustrations was the dishwasher. One puts the dirty dishes in. One puts in detergent. One turns the dishwasher on. One goes about ones happy little life until some later time, when one comes back to take the dishes out. It is NOT that difficult. So, when one continuously, continuously misses one of these ever so simple steps and comes back to find that the dishwasher is still, in fact, full of dirty dishes and now so is the sink....one becomes frustrated with oneself. One rants at one's husband. One rants at one's Sweetling. One rants at one's mother. One rants at one's Mango on the phone. One rants on one's blog.

Then the next day, when one is ever so proud at one's clever self because she did indeed remember to run the dishwasher, only to go downstairs to discover that the dryer is still full of wet clothes because one forgot to push the start button....well then one is completely justified---completely justified, in ranting some more.

Sweetling suggests that I should reward myself when I remember to run the dishwasher by giving myself a piece of chocolate. This positive reinforcement should better train the Mommy. Sweetling doesn't know that Mommy has a brownie mix in the pantry that is going to shortly become Mommy's consolation prize.

Its beginning to look a lot like

We take turns each year deciding how we should decorate our Christmas tree. The Jedi decided that this year it should be Little Guy's turn. Little Guy, when asked what should go on the Christmas tree, said, "Fragile things and lights and a birdhouse." (Later he added candy canes to that list). Then Berean put up a Christmas tree and covered it with Webkinz. So we start putting up our tree yesterday. Little Guy decides that our tree should also have Webkinz. Lo and behold, Christmas tree with Webkinz.






We added candy canes this afternoon. Since children would be taking Webkinz on and off the tree all month, Mommy decided it was best to skip the fragile things. The Jedi suggested my pegasus should be our tree topper this year, cause you know, wings and all. You cant see it in the pic, but there is indeed a pink pegasus serving as our tree angel this year.

Three Cats

Oh how descriptive and inspiring my blog titles are.

Mom has three cats. Mom needs to have zero cats. Mom is allergic to said cats and the medicines she takes for her allergies is giving her high blood pressure. If Mom goes off her medicine, she gets sick. If Mom doesn't go off her medicine, she risks a stroke.

Bottom line, three cats need a new home. I'm thinking my brother the Tornado has three kids. These children need Christmas presents. Three kids who need presents....three cats who need a home... It's a genius plan.

Nine and nightgown

Its 9:07 and I'm still in my nightgown. My children are both bundled up playing in the snow in the backyard. Little Guy cannot get enough of snow. He loves it! We got a couple of inches overnight on Tuesday. The Jedi had arranged with work that if it snowed, he wasn't coming in till 9, so that he could be home to take Little Guy out in his first snow fall. I had been assuming that Little Guy would love the snow, up until it touched him and it was cold. Little Guy went out in the snow, with Sweetling right behind him. He quickly discovered that he could make footprints, and this was very cool. Then he discovered that he could throw it. This was also cool. Sweetling proceeded to demostrate how to make and pound a little brother with a snowball. A skill which she executed with remarkable accuracy. Remarkable, hit my little brother right in the face, sort of accuracy. Little Guy stood there stunned and horrified. The Jedi came to a quick rescue and got the snow off of Little Guys face and out from down the neck of his coat. Little Guy made a swift recovery. The Jedi pulled both children around the front yard a few times in the sled, and then was off to work. We stayed out for a little longer (more snowballs were thrown, snowangels made, and big, big snowpiles full of brown leaves were scooped together by Little Guy.) Then Mommy got cold, and it was time for breakfast, so in we went.

Little Guy played in the snow outside of church on the way into wow. He played in the snow on the way out of wow. He stomped on the groundcover outside of Berean. He got out of the car and stomped around in Pinkie's front yard. We all went to Telephone's house. Telephone and I worked on a dance for Saturday and all the children (hers were off cause school districts down here are wimps) went outside to play for about an hour. Her front yard has a little hill, so more sledding was done. We had hot chocolate at Telephones and came home. Little Guy wanted to go back in the snow. We didn't, because we had to get ready for church. We went to church. More footprints were made. We came out of church. Footprints.

We woke up this morning, staggered into the school room where Mommy was reading a weeks worth of emails she hadn't had a chance to read yet. We said "wanna play in the snow Mommy?" before we were even awake enough to have our eyes fully open. Mommy, being mean like she is, made us eat at least a banana first. Then both children got bundled up and out they went. Sweetling is now standing on the edge of the snowcovered cliff that is our backyard thinking about it. Little Guy told the Jedi last night that maybe we could get a hill in our yard for Christmas, so we could go sledding all the time. The Jedi told Little Guy "good luck with that one." In the meantime, Little Guy is out there contenting himself with making snowpiles. And has found a bucket. Snow can go in buckets. Its an amazing thing. Snow in buckets can be dumped on unsuspecting sisters. This is even better. Snow is also edible, despite how many times Mommy has tried to explain that after the snow has been walked in and has laid on the ground all day, it is no longer clean.

Zero schooling has been done all week. Which isn't completely accurate. Sweetling did one morning devotion and one history lesson. Little Guy has insisted on doing calendar. And spent one evening while I was making dinner arranging his magnetic letters on the fridge in ABC order...a task which involved frequent running trips to the school room to check the alphabet on his desk to find what letter comes next. And Sweetling has been playing Quest for Glory. I'm not sure how that can count as an educational experience, but in the middle of December, it does somehow.

We took Monday off for Mommy to recover from the Children's Musical, which was wonderful. We made a go of it for an hour or so on Tuesday, then went and picked up Smurf. Wednesday was a snow holiday. Today there is no good reason for us not to be doing formal school lessons...except that its Thursday, its 9:29, Mommy is still in her nightgown and children are outside playing. There is a weeks worth of laundry that needs folded and put away...and we have tomorrow off cause Daddy's home. We will make a nod at getting a few lessons in, but in general, this week is a wash when it comes to progress on the K12 curriculum.

If its a measure of how little time we've had for seatwork, I didn't even log on to webkinz once yesterday. And I missed the dragsters in the curio shop. Boo hoo.

My life is measured by lessons completed and webkinz events. I can also sing the Super Why theme song as well as the Word Girl theme song.

And I need to come up with nearly twenty fake poinsettia flowers between now and Sunday without spending any money on them. Its only the first week of December, and I have seriously, dangerously, overspent my 'freespending' allowance. Without the Jedi's knowledge. But the good news is that my ultracool phone is NOT lost at church as I feared last night, but merely left at Telephone's house. A rescue mission before the Jedi notices its absence is in order today. And no, the Jedi doesn't read my blog, so I'm totally safe in writing this here.

But for now, I shall retrieve children from the wintery wonderland and feed them breakfast, take my shower, and start school.

There's one tree, a little one, in our backyard that still has green summer leaves all over it. I'm glad to know I'm not the only one unprepared for December.

Quinlan the Penguin

I have a cookie update, that I'll make as soon as pics are downloaded from the camera. (Ok, short version...we got the cookies done and delivered Saturday! Sweetling, Little Guy, and Sweetling's good friend, Pinkie were a HUGE help!)

Second update, our Christmas musical, The Mystery of the Manger, was on Sunday and it went REALLY well. Sweetling and Pinkie both had speaking parts and Little Guy was a shepherd. The Jedi was put in charge of the camera, because I was doing leading the choir's choregraphy. ( Side note, why is spelling so evil?) Anyway, I'm hoping for some pics of that to share as well.

In the meantime....I shall share screenshots of Quinlan the Penguin. I have shared his story on WI, and now I'm sharing it here. By copying and pasting my WI post of course.

First of all, my husband came home on Monday night with new Webkinz reindeer for each of our two children. He was supposed to just stop on the way home and get milk and bread. Instead, he walks in with the grocery bags, asks how everybody's day was...did they listen, how was school, etc. After listening to me talk about our day....he reaches into the grocery bags and pulls out reindeer! There was much rejoicing :)

Then, on Thursday, I walked in and found a Webkinz penguin sitting on my keyboard :) I had been not so subtly dropping hints about wanting one for Christmas for a while. My Christmas started early. Everyone gathered round to watch Mommy adopt her new penguin and decorate his room. (After I had agonized for a day picking out his name. A name which was finally found by my daughter, who got online to find cool names for me.)

THEN I thought Quinlan the Penguin's room needed some decorations. So I got on WI to look at how other winter themed rooms were decorated. I kept calling my daughter in to ask her where I could get the items I was seeing. It turns out the things I wanted were exclusive items. (A sparkle plant and an arctic window...PSI for the polar bear.) This morning my daughter told me I should log on to my account, because she had sent me a present. Let me say that I had many things to do, and we were running late for a dress rehearsal for our Christmas musical...but I hopped on because she was so very excited. AND OH MY GOODNESS! She sent me a sparkle plant AND the arctic window!!!!! She had a polar bear, and she sent me his PSI. I about cried.

I told her I couldn't take Frosty's window...so we agreed that I would decorate my penguin's room and do a screenshot, then send it back. Well, this evening, my husband calls me downstairs to look at his computer. He bought a polar bear code, just so he could get the arctic window and send it to our daughter...so we both would have our own.

Isn't that just awesome??

BFS--Cookie Exchange

Part A: Please share your Favorite Christmas/Holiday Cookie Recipe(s)!

Part B: Share a memory, story or tradition about baking any Christmas/Holiday goodies.

Part C: Share a verse that is upon your heart this week.

Hmmmm....cooooookieeess. We likes the cookies.

So, I have three recipes that I try to make each year. They are:
Chocolate Rolo Cookies
Applesauce Jumbles
Chocolate Chip Spice Cookies

The Jedi's favorite cookies are Caramel Pecan Dream Bars....but the force is not with me, and everytime I've tried to make these cookies, I fail miserably.

Almost every year, I make dozens of dozens of dozens of cookies. No lie. I put them in containers. We get some, mom gets some, Smurf gets some...if she's been an especially smurfin smurf and gets her little body over to my house before they are gone. But the real reason I make dozens of dozens of cookies, is that I put them in containers to take to the neighbors. Typically, Dayspring has a little printed bookmark with the list of the times and dates of all the special Christmas activities and services. I put the bookmark on the cookie containers, and I take it to the neighbors.

I had just decided that I was going to skip that tradition this year. I'm tired. The first Christmas activity is *this* Sunday. There is no preprinted bookmark. I have to do my monthly grocery shopping on Friday, we have Sweetlings girls club Friday afternoon, and I'm going to the Melting Pot Friday night with Telephone and our children's pastor. We have a rehearsal for the children's Christmas musical Saturday from 9am-1pm. There is no way, no way, no WAY I can get dozens of dozens of cookies made, packaged, and delivered by Saturday night.

And then the darn BFS assignment is about holiday cookies. And the family across the street lost their father this fall. And my one neighbor comes to almost every special musical or church activity I invite him to.

Maybe instead of all my fancy cookies, I could find a few nice, simple cookie recipes that we can do together. (Cause having Sweetling and Little Guy helping in this process is the definition of streamlining). Maybe the Jedi will make some bookmarks for me. If I just do three houses (instead of the six I usually do), I can do this. Surely I can.

And the verses that immediately pop into mind are...
Jesus looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." Mt 19:26
and...
I can do everything through him who gives me strength. Phil 4:13

Six Months Later

Six months and a few weeks later....and I finally have the second half of my Guatemala blog put up on our share point site. I'm sending out an email to a few people. If you read this, and you don't get an email...and you want one...I didn't forget you on purpose. I'm just me. You should know that by now. If not, the fact that it's taken me 6mos to get around to doing this should clue you in on my lack of organization.

A little lighter now...

So, Smurf's response to my last post made me cry. She was even nice enough to call my weed patch a garden. I want to take a break from deeper topics, so I'm leaving you with this photoshopped picture. Later I'll post my perfect weekend and the next BSF assignment, which is all about Thanksgiving.

BFS #8-Dirty Laundry

BFS stands for Blogger Friend School. See the blinky link on the right. So, here's the assignment:

Part A - Share about your family’s laundry. Where is it kept? Who does it? How does your family sort it? Do you wash by hand? Hang clothes on the clothesline? Make your own laundry soap? How often do you do laundry? How many loads each day/week? Indoor laundry room, in the garage, or laundry mat? Even more fun…share a picture!

For those of you who have known me for a while, you know that laundry is the bane of my existence. I have lamented about laundry more times than I can count and here's why... ITS NEVER BLEEPING DONE. Those of you who are born organized (which of all my friends would be Christopher Robin and Telephone) keep trying to come up with helpful comments by sharing your system in the hopes that I'll get my act in order and quit whining you you about it. Foolish mortals.

Here's my "system". On Sunday, we come home from church and have lunch. Then its time to sort laundry. Little Guy grabs his laundry basket, which has wheels, and pushes it like a madman down the hall, thumps it down the stairs, and goes careening into "the closet room". (The closet room, when we bought the house, was going to become the master bath since its right off the master bedroom. Then the plumber came out and gave us the estimate, and the room has become half walk-in closet, half storage for crap, half a computer desk with three servers sitting on it. Yes, that is three halves, and it gives you an idea how cluttered the room is.) Sweetling's laundry basket is a fold up nylon mesh cube in primary colors with two nylon handles which she lugs down the hall, down the stairs, and to the closet room. She has learned to go *after* Little Guy if she values her heels. I grab the towels and the fifteen wet washclothes from the bathroom and head down. Then the three of us sort laundry together. Here's the picture of the closet room, taken Sunday evening after the laundry had been sorted and cleared out. Ok. Maybe not. I took a picture, but I can't find what folder its sitting in. There are the other two pictures I took, but not the closet room. Those three servers that sit in the closet room? They look for ways to laugh at me. That's their full time job.

Once the laundry is sorted, I start running loads. This is the part that never gets done. Loads take two drier cycles to dry, because the dryer vent tube (that big round silver thing that leads outside) needs cleaned out Im sure. Anyway, done loads get either a)dumped on the bed to be shoveled back into a basket later because I never got around to folding them; b)left in a basket at the foot of our bed or on the floor of the laundry room; or c)left in the dryer while the load in the washer sits and gets that nice mildew smell. Here, this time for real, is a picture of the laundry room. Now Mango in her blog calls her laundry room the dungeon. I totally disagree. I totally win the dungeon competition for laundry rooms.

Oh, and here's the picture of two laundry baskets hanging out at the foot of our bed. This is taken before the great laundry pile up begins to occur. (Not because I'm hiding the great laundry pile-up, but just because thats when Mango called me about BFS and that when I read the BFS home page and then went running around the house with a camera. The Jedi wisely had no comment.)

The great laundry pile up is why I hate laundry. Remember the a, b, c options for what happens to the laundry when it finally comes out of the dryer? That's the beginning of the great laundry pile up. The great laundry pile up usually gets sorted out by Friday afternoon, just in time to start laundry again on Sunday. So, basically, all through the week there is unfinished laundry and finished laundry waiting to be folded. And several times I dump the laundry monster out on our bed to try to make some headway, get a few minutes of work done, and then get called away to some other task, and by bedtime the unfinished laundry has to be shoveled back into the baskets, often on top of the few things I did get folded. And this is why laundry is the bane of my existence. Every week I start it with the best of intentions, and every week the process gets derailed and becomes a mess that I have to try to live through and function through and tell Sweetling to just wrap a towel around herself and go look for a pair of underwear in the baskets at the foot of the bed. These sorts of things. The stuff that dreams are made of.

By Friday, the laundry is folded, finally, and baskets are lugged back up the stairs. Little Guy helps me put away his own laundry (which is in one basket) and Sweetling puts away her laundry on her own (which is in another basket.) I usually carry the stack of towels up by hand and put them in the linen closet.

And the broken system begins again on Sunday.

Part B - Do you have an area in your life that you know that the Lord is tugging at some heart strings that needs to be cleaned up? Have a testimony of your past struggle(s) that might help another homeschooling mom? Share a piece of your heart (dirty laundry) that you are seeking a good washing or how it got cleaned up. Sharing with one another is a great way to have your post feel human and real.

Grrr. This is why I've not yet done this assignment. I was just going to say that I've been having a really difficult time being motivated to spend time in prayer and in Bible studies and keeping my prayer journal. Oh, I've been doing it, sporadically, but I've just been going through the motions and not reaping any spiritual growth or benefits. But really, I think I know exactly why I haven't been motivated.

A year ago, my women on wednesday bible study (wow), read and discussed the book Captivating. It was an awesome experience for me in so many ways. There was a hurt done to me when I was a child, that I had never really admitted, never faced, never worked through. I blamed myself for what happened, and just felt broken beyond all repair. In the process of reading that book, God helped me to see how what had happened was NOT MY FAULT. He showed me how he saw me, an innocent little girl. Innocent, innocent. I loved the sound and feel of that word. I still do. He started me down the long road of healing, and he was faithful to give me just what I needed when I needed it.

But the road of healing was long, and the landscape of the journey often looked the same, and I was impatient to reach the destination. And I began to doubt that I ever would reach the destination. And I might have been in slavery in Egypt, but I started remembering the banks of the Nile as being so much more lush and refreshing than the wilderness I had to cross to reach the Promised Land. And so I turned around and headed back towards Egypt. And I wondered why the road back seemed darker and colder without the pillar of fire going before me. And I stagnated on my prayer life, on my Bible studies, my journaling.

Mango on the phone with me last night said, "You're so nice. You probably never have to look in the mirror and see something ugly." Oh Mango, I said, you have no idea. There's a room in my heart where I turned all the mirrors to the wall for the longest time, because I couldn't bear to face what was reflected there. But its time to pick up the polishing cloth and get back to work. Because God is telling me, it isn't me who is ugly and distorted. He made me beautiful. But the mirror got warped in my childhood, and the image its throwing back at me isn't what he created me to be. And its going to take some hard work to polish the mirror and to let him bend it back into shape. And its going to take a long time. But we are heading in the right direction. Be patient. Follow him through the wilderness. We aren't out here wandering in circles. We are making progress.

Part C - FIND a scripture this week that pertains to this assignment to help you with your laundry and share it this week.

The Biblical woman I identify most with is Sarah. I want to be like Ruth, but really I'm like Sarah. She had the promise of God, but when it was taking a long time to be fulfilled, she decided maybe God's plan was for her to be more proactive in fulfilling the promise. Rather than stay on the journey God called her to, she wanted faster results, and found a way to "get" God's promise on her time table. It's the impatience, the desire to be in control, the need to know how and when, the frustration and doubt generated by the long journey, all these things I detect in myself.

So, my scripture is both for the laundry in my house, which never seems done...yet really it does get done every week, just not on my time table, and not without some mess and frustration in the middle of the week. And its also for the healing journey that never seems over...yet really I know how far God has already brought me, and I know how much he sustains me, (but the wilderness does seem barren...and there's a lot of murmuring from me along the way).

So my scripture is...Philippians 1:5-6: Because of your partnership in the gospel from the first day until now, being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on in completion until the day of Christ Jesus.

Happy Halloween

Sweetling is WordGirl. Little Guy is Captain Huggyface.

No Flash

For some reason, both Webkinz and K12 have suddenly decided they don't like the version of flash that I'm running. This might be a good thing, because it means I've done a little laundry this morning while Sweetling has been conquering pre-algebra. (Little Guy is watching his morning shows).

But I need my webkinz fix, so I'm posting my new sig picture that I'm using on Webkinz Insider.

Ode to Mango

I was so sure, so absolutely certain, so beyond any shadow of a doubt positive, that I explained why Mango is Mango. But, since blogger has a search function, I did a search on my blog.....and I don't think I ever *did* explain why Mango is Mango.

If I'm wrong, its because I have weak google-fu.

This post is all about Mango. Mango had the misfortune of being talked into being my assistant leader for AHG last year. Now, this is a terrible fate for two reasons --1) I should not be "in charge" of anything...not if you want things to run smoothly; and 2) in a group of giggling, excited, little girls...I am the most giggly and excited of them all. But poor Mango didn't know this when Telephone talked her into 'helping' me. Maybe Telephone thought the girls needed a responsible adult with them. I certainly don't fit that category. I am a great girl leader though :) But I digress... we went through several AHG meetings and a few phone calls being friendly. I was very grateful and appreciative of Mango, because she would call me the afternoon of the meeting and ask what we were doing that night....at which point I'd start brainstorming, Mango would listen and support, and then bring snacks, craft supplies, photocopies, library books...and whatever else we needed based on my zany ideas. It was almost like we were organized.

But, while I liked and deeply, deeply appreciated Mango during the year....it wasn't till Camporee that I truly became a number-one Mango fan :) For a few weeks after the Camporee weekend (ok....it felt like weeks), I followed the Jedi around talking about Mango, and how I really, really hoped Mango would be my friend, and did he think I should call Mango, or would that be too pushy? Maybe I should just send her a gift on Webkinz? I think I drove the Jedi crazy. Or maybe the Jedi has just perfected the art of tuning me out when I'm irrational.

Irrational or not, the point is....it was over Camporee weekend that I realized how cool Mango was, and how neat we clicked together. And thus, it was right after Camporee that Mango needed a blog name. And, since Mango had confessed to me her secret love of mango margaritas during camporee....and since Mango needed a name that was a) unique and different, b) sounded like fun, c) just a tiny bit fruity, and d) would always remind me of that camporee weekend.... Mango Margarita it was. I had tiny pangs of guilt about the name later....when she went and named me Mary Poppins on her blog (cause I'm practically perfect in every way). But I think there's an unwritten rule that stipulates blog names should never be changed. Something about the universe unraveling. And really, I've tossed around other name ideas for Mango....but secretly, I really *like* the name Mango. I liked it when I picked it....for all the reasons already outlined, and I still like it. I could call her MM (for Mango Margarita of course)....or let those initials become M&M....cause chocolate is always always a good thing. Or "The Other Pea" cause the Jedi says we two are like two peas in a pod. Or ENFP, cause she is, like me. Or BFF if I'm being cutesy and elementary again. Or Kindred Spirit, but that sounds too...I don't know, not playful enough. But I like Mango the best of all the options I can come up with.

Anyway, Mango brought me dinner last Saturday, when we got back from North Carolina. And I started this post on Sunday....but I'm a me....and more than a week later I 'm getting around to finishing my post. She also brought me a webkinz, a littlekinz bunny which I promptly named Jennikins. And in return I derailed her week by getting her addicted to the fall leaf hunt on Webkinz world. Cause that's the considerate sort of friend *I* am. But, in the true spirit of togetherness, I sat on the phone and chatted with her while we both were sitting in front of our computers hoping a leaf would drift across our screens. See, I can be giving ;) (And then she in return sent me the fall poster...which is the one prize I couldn't bag during the leaf hunt...along with virtual fudge, and virtual chocolate of course).

To sum up....

Hooray for Mango! I'm so glad she's my friend :)

Doctors and Otters and Donuts...Oh MY!

The doctor visit today went really well. Everyone was really nice and explained every little step to me. They also said that they could do an epideral, if I preferred, but that they would have to keep me in recovery longer for that. They said they do many, many MH biopsy tests all the time, and that the anesthetic they use for MH patients is a very safe anesthetic and no one has ever had a reaction to it. They also said that if I was feeling natious, they would be sure to give me some anti-nausia medication in the recovery room. (They said a lot of people are more worried about getting nautious from the anesthesia than they are worried about whatever surgery they are going to have). I really liked everyone I talked to, and am feeling much better about the proceedure now.

I am supposed to check in tomorrow at 6am. i forgot to ask how long they anticipated the procedure taking. But they were doing me as one of the first cases in the morning. Apparantly the test they need to do with the muscle takes 4-6 hours, and has to be done right away, so they always do the MH biopsies early. The good news about that is that Dr Lin, who will be experimenting on my muscle in her lab, said she'll call our cell phones that afternoon with the result. That's much better than I expected. I figured I'd have to wait until next week sometime to know. She also asked for a lot of family history info (not all of which I knew) trying to trace possible MH episodes through the family tree. If I test positive, I promised I'd sit down with mother and put together a more accurate family tree to email her. They try to keep records of how it effects families, since it is genetic, in the hopes of being able to understand it better. Apparantly there is a combination of multiple genes that come together to make MH.

The bad news is, since they need the muscle tissue fresh, and since certain clotting agents would render it useless as a biopsy sample, when they do the incision they cant use any of the clotting agents they would normally use. So, there's a lot of bleeding with an MH biopsy. They said to expect a lot of blood (like bruising) under the skin. The doctor that will be taking the biopsy said that in rare cases someone has had to go back in to have excess blood trapped under the skin drained away. That falls into the yuck category.

The other good news is....I saw otters today at a nature preserve. They were adorable. So curious and playful when we were there. They popped there little heads up and watched us, and then started doing back flips off the ledges for their audience.

I also had the best donuts EVER. We went to Krispy Kreme, because Pastor Tim told us we had to ;) And OH....the boxes of donuts in the grocery totally doesn't do them justice. Inside the store, they had a little production line of donuts with glass windows so costumers can watch the donuts being made. That in itself was super cool. THEN they gave us free sample donuts, right off the line, dipped it a chocolate fountain. The donuts were so warm when they handed them to me they were almost too hot to hold. We let them cool a little, and then bit into them....ahhhhhhh.....soooooooo good!!! They were literally melt in your mouth good. The little guy and I sat at the table eating our donuts. I actually held his donut for him, and fed him, cause the warm chocolate icing was so messy. Even so we *both* wound up with chocolate all our our faces and hands. We were giggling and having a great time. (I think it was the little guys excitement at seeing the donuts made, and his great smile that earned us the free donuts. No one else got offered samples, just our family.)

Telephone's email

As much as I tease Telephone...even giving her the blog name Telephone, she is a really good friend. I emailed her the same thing I posted earlier tonight, and this was her response... (names have been changed to protect the innocent of course. And should any member of your team be captured...)

So they are putting you under. We will pray that there is no reaction when they do this Friday . Let me know what time this will all take place, so I can be praying. I did not realize the incisions would be that big. I hope that you will not be sore from the incision site. If when you get back and the Jedi is back at work on Monday I can come and help if you need it. I just need to be back here by 2:00 for babysitting. You took such good care of me and now I can return the favor to a really good friend. I'm glad that God has placed you in my life. You are such a special and close friend, if not one of my best friends. I love ya!! Take care and talk to you later.

Just a teeny bit nervous

The Caffeine Halothane Contracture Test (CHCT), a test performed on freshly biopsied muscle, is the “gold standard” for diagnosis of MH. It can be performed only in roughly 30 centers worldwide, eight of which are located in the United States and Canada. The patient must travel to one of these sites for the test because the test must be completed within hours after muscle is removed.

Following administration of a non-triggering anesthetic, the CHCT will require the removal of approximately two grams of muscle (less than one-tenth of an ounce, about the size of a dime), through a two- to three-inch incision usually from the thigh. The force response of the muscle after exposure to caffeine and separately to halothane in the laboratory is characterized and recorded electronically. Comparison of the strength of contracture (sustained muscle tension) with previously established standards allows determination of MH susceptibility. Muscle from MH susceptibles (MHS) is more sensitive and elicits contractures at lower levels to the administered trigger agents.

This is the other thing we're going to North Carolina to do.

People reply! People reply!

Only Smurf will get the title of this entry. I'll explain it to the rest of you, cause i'm nice that way...but as most inside jokes, it probably won't be funny even after its explained.

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, Smurf started an rp board based on the Harry Potter series. We (cause she drafted many of her friends into filling staff positions at Hogwarts) quickly became the largest, and best Harry Potter rp site on the internet. No exageration. Despite being the best, and despite the fact that we carefully screen all applications to join by having them submit a character history and writing sample...we still had several individuals who were still just a tiny bit immature. There were often several attempts at hosting a party. The opening post would go something like this...a brief description of assorted charms to create streamers or twinkling lights, an assurance that butter bear had been smuggled in, and some sentence about how cool their character was.

The opening party post often went ignored by the rest of the school, or at best was attended by a couple students posting with how cool their character was. Invariably though, these threads degenerated into the original poster spamming the tread with one or two line posts reading "This is going to be the best party ever" and then many posts each reading "People reply! People reply!"

so, I'm sitting here, cause the laundry monster is lurking downstairs. I'm trolling blogs that no one is updating cause many of my friends have gone over to the dark side of the force and only do facebook now. And in my head I'm chanting, 'People reply! People reply!'

And now you know, the rest of the story.

Check out where we're going this week. Hooray for us :)

I have pink feathers in my hair

This weekend was our women's conference at Dayspring. Every fall, we have either a women's retreat at a state park lodge or a hotel....or we have a conference at church. (We alternate between those two options.)

A few days ago, I was writing in my Beth Moore devotional book. The question was, "Think of a time when you sensed the power of God 'come upon you' in a moment of crisis, or worship, or perhaps on an otherwise ordinary day. What was it like, and why do you think He chooses when and how to reveal His presence so tangibly?"

at first, it seemed that all of my remembrances of when I really felt close to God, felt his presence, had to do with childbirth, pregnancy, motherhood. Whether through a 'coincidence' to big to be a coincidence, or through feeling him near when we would be at the altar praying for Little Guy or Vaya while we were waiting for God to bring them home to us...or a thousand little things about being a mother.

Then I started thinking of other times that I felt His presence, felt His nearness, felt His hand...and nearly all of my list happen at women's retreats or conferences...
--the wreath of flowers I made and wore during my prayer walk
--the words of prophecy and encouragement spoken to me under the veiled canopy
--the communion of smores around the campfire last year as I burnt pages filled with the hurt of the past that I've finally been able to acknowledge
--the arms of a sister I never met before around me as we both cried together
--the words of comfort 'spoken' to me when I was hiding in a restroom stall, crying for Mammaw's death, feeling very alone


Sometimes, it is the message shared during the retreats that speaks to me, changes me. Sometimes it is the fellowship of women that I cherish most. This year, I think it was the fellowship that was most meaningful, though I did need the message to refocus myself. I've been sliding into a slump over the last couple of weeks, not focusing where I needed to focus, feeling like a failure, and looking for any means of 'escape' from my daily life that I could. This year's theme was "On the Dot". I want to remember each day, that the little things do make a difference in my life and in the life of my family members. Sometimes its so discouraging to wash the dishes, clean the kitchen, sweep and mop the floor....and by the next day the efforts of that labor seem to have been for naught. Its easier, and more appealing, to give up, surf the web....do whatever. but that only leads to me feeling frustrated and inadequate. And then school with Sweetling and Little Guy starts to slip....and we've started this downward spiral. "Hour by hour I commit my days to you." I don't need to be Susy Homemaker or Martha Stewart. I just need to be me, to be the wonderful woman God created me to be....to love and teach my children and care for my home and family. To write and draw and dance and sing. To not give up just because things aren't perfect.

But, I digress. I love being with the women at Dayspring. I can be myself. I can stick pink feathers in my hair. I can stand on a chair. I can sit in a room of women blowing bubbles with the rest of them. I can hoard the chocolate kisses (yes, yes, I did share them....but someone was trying to "clean them up" after lunch....I had to save them from that fate.) I can scoot to the edge of my chair, and three women around me will be encouraging me to stand up and share my thoughts, knowing that I'm considering it, but was hesitating, just by the subtle shift in my posture. I can walk down the hallway singing. I can wax poetic. I can tease and be teased. I can laugh and cry and hug and share with them.

So, I have pink feathers in my hair today. The chairs were decorated with tulle bows, some of which had feather puffs. Yesterday, I took two of the bows, and placed them on the heads of two of the young girls at the conference. One of the other women put a puff of black feathers at the top of her short, blonde, straight hair. Today, several of us were wearing bows and feathers in our hair. We were enjoying ourselves, enjoying each others company, enjoying our time of renewal and refocusing.

Zerburts are coming

I'm not allowed to blog about this, but it made for a good title. So I shall now ramble about something else instead, lest the nine year old's lips are permanently distorted from pouting so hard. Go do your vocabulary, you nine year old you.

Have I mentioned that I love being the one in charge?

I called Mango today, because I needed to explain to someone the latest soap opera that HoneyBee has called me with. Yes, yes. I am such a girly girl that way. Someone calls me with a problem, and I immediately get off the phone and call someone else.

Mango, I learned, has a completely separate log that she was HOLDING OUT ON ME. But I think I made her late to her carpool for dance keeping her on the phone trying to talk me through typing in a simple URL. The Force is not with me. We all know this. But now I have her OTHER blog, and I put it in my links.

Facebook, by the way, is absolutely the dark side of the force. Christopher Robin has deserted me for Facebook. Its evil. Evil. Vaya is on Facebook too....but at least she does both. Smurf deserted blogging so long ago it doesn't bear mentioning. (And yet you notice I'm mentioning it anyway.)

Little Guy threw up in the middle of the night. I changed his sheets, got him all cleaned up and tucked back into bed. I unrolled a sleeping back and slept, fitfully, on his floor the rest of the night. This morning he was fine. He immediately went to the whiteboard in the kitchen to practice his letters. He spent the rest of the morning alternating between laying on the couch watching PBS kids, and jumping up and down on the trampoline watching PBS kids.

I took one bite of my lunch today and my stomach said, "dont send down another bite." So, I didn't. I feel crappy, but not crappy enough to declare myself sick and put myself to bed. I had a piece of toast an hour ago, and that's stayed with me. I know all of you are totally enthralled by whether or not my stomach is a tiny bit quesy. Don't worry, I'm totally here for your entertainment needs like that.

And because we've just firmly established that I'm NOT pathetic.... I'm tagging myself. Someone tagged Mango....and I'm sure Mango *meant* to tag me. So, I'm just helping her with that, so that she doesn't feel bad later or anything.

Here are the rules:
1) The player starts with 8 random facts about herself.

2) The person who is tagged must post on her own blog her answers and post the rules first.

3) Then the player must pick 8 people and tag them. Also leave them a note on Message that lets them know that you tagged them. You can write who you tagged on your blog also!

(The downfall here being that I don't have 8 people to tag, because Facebook is *evil*.)

But 8 random facts about myself:

1. I generally do not like stories in which vampires are the protagonists in any way. Vampires, as a rule, should be staked and decapitated. None of this nouveau misunderstood sensitive brooding goth figure. No no. Blood-sucking creatures of the night as a rule do not get sympathy points in my book. (Rules of course, do have exceptions.)

2. I am so disappointed that Sweetling was never into the Barbie movies. I lost my excuse to watch them. I'm not overly fond of Barbie dolls, but darn it, I did want to watch Barbie Swan Lake.

3. Coffee is a nasty, nasty drink. Why do grown people choose to drink coffee? It tastes like medicine.

4. I had a few years of my life, maybe a decade, in which I was cute and physically attractive, and I didn't appreciate it at the time. Now, I'm always surprised when i catch sight of myself in a mirror. I expect to see the 20 year old me staring back at me...but middle age has crept up on me. (Ok, in fairness, middle age and a bigtime lack of exercise).

5. Exercise is boring. I would like to be active...bikeriding, dance, hiking....but that involves fitting stuff into the schedule.

6. If we won the lottery, the first thing I would want is a new house. I like this house, but there are so many little things that just bog me down all the time. Even the Jedi notices. We were watching tv and a Stanely Cleaner add for carpet cleaning came on. The Jedi said, "Our carpet needs taken out back and burned." He's so right. So, I don't want a mansion. I just want a house with everything fresh and new and clean.

7. Or a castle in a forest. That wouldn't disappoint me either.

8. I hate the phrase "If your bored its cause you're boring."

Teacher In-Service Day

I love being the one in charge. And since no one that has a job reads this (except Vaya, and I already told her), I was absolutely irresponsible today.

I spent the day reading the third book in this cool series....I don't know what the series is called, but the first book is Twilight by Stephanie Meyer. I was going to post the link to her page...but it has too many spoilers in it. But you must all go to the library and find this book and read it. Look deep into my eyes....repeat after me....'I must read Twilight...I must read Twilight....' "

See how painless that was.

Crap. Ok, I have to post the link...but ONLY THE MAVEN is allowed to go read the link first. The rest of you have to read the book first, then the link. And by saying that, everyone is going to click the link immediately. You nosey people you.

Fine. I'm not going to post it. Tptptptptp.

Having a Day.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.

It started so long ago.
I've rushed around here, I've rushed around there.
I've barely had time to wash my frizzy hair.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.
I'm exhausted, burnt out, spent.
Forgot to call the dentist, forgot to run the dishwasher.
Forgot to feed the gerbil or water the plants.

It's 8:59 and I'm having a day.
The papers on my desk have spilled onto the floor.
The clutter in the closet has crept out.
There's schoolwork to be graded and attendance to be logged,
And our houseguest for the week is a stomach-sick dog.

----------------------------------

And cut. I started that on Friday night. Got interrupted by a Little Guy who had been nicely tucked into bed who later decided "My still hungry Mommy. Mommy, my still hungry. My playing with doggy and my forgot my ice cream."

And the doggie isn't stomach sick anymore. She's just fine.

And the weekend was great.

So basically my little pity party poem doesn't apply anymore. But I'm posting it anyway.

Because I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me.

Slow Me Down

I am not techno cool....so you'll just have to follow the link to the video.

Slow Me Down

Bike helmets, not just a product of runaway lawsuits

Friday was a beautiful day. We've had a lot of beautiful days recently, and Friday was one of them. And it was a Friday...so that made it doubly beautiful. Hello lamppost, how's it going? I've come to watch your flowers growing. That sort of beautiful.

So we ditched school in the afternoon and decided to take the bikes and go to a park. Sweetling is still...wait...Sweetling *was* still working on mastering the two wheeler thing. The problem being that the sidewalks are a bit too narrow. Nevermind that they are three to four feet wide. The grass edges kept sneaking up on her and making her lose her balance. So a park trip, to a place with a big empty parking lot, was totally in order.

Load up bikes, load up waterbottles, load up kids, load up bike helmets.

A word on my previous attitude about bike helmets. Since the invention of the bicycle in the 1800's, no child has worn a helmet to ride a bike. Helmets were reserved for motorcycles, when they came out, and people who were doing things like putting both wheels of their bike above their heads on a regular basis. Good old 'hop on your bike and ride down the street' never needed a helmet. Even if it was, hop on your bike, ride down the street, and over the bike ramp you and your friends have made in the neighbors driveway out of cinderblocks and a old piece of half-rotted plywood you dragged up from the woods. No one wore helmets. Ever. And a never knew, met, or even heard of anyone who had a serious head injury from lack of bike helmet. But you know, we also made long car trips in the back of station wagons without seatbelts, so what did we know?

Anyway, enter the 1990s. Its now popular to drop your 6wk infant off at daycare for nine hours a day...but by jimminy, you better get him a bike helmet for his tricycle when he's old enough. (And you'll know when that time is, because the daycare workers who are raising him will let you know when he starts mastering petalling the bikes in the large motor room). Otherwise people might think you weren't a very attentive parent.

So bike helmets.

Sweetling, of course, had a helmet when she got her two-wheeler with the training wheels and her scooter....but it wasn't because Mommy was really concerned about this whole helmet thing. It was because she had watched PBS, and so she *knew* that she was *supposed* to have a helmet. And Sweetling doesn't do anything unless she can do it the way its *supposed* to be done. Blame the Jedi for that. She certainly didn't inherit that from *me*.

Now, here we are in the van on our way to the park. (Little Guy has a helmet too...I couldn't very well have Sweetling in a helmet and not Little Guy. Its a paranoid mom thing, you know?) We get to the park, helmets get strapped on, bikes get taken out. "Don't ride past this point" speeches get made. And we're ready. Little Guy takes off. Sweetling gets a pep talk and a promise that I'm not going to suddenly let go of her. (She could tell, months ago, that I might be the sort of parent to try that stunt.)

So I run beside and behind the Sweetling and after a few passes back and forth across the parking lot...she's got it!!!! There was one other family at the park that day, and the mom there was clapping and cheering for the Sweetling too. :)

I continue running along beside the Sweetling, just in case. And we tell Little Guy that Sweetling is not a target. We are not playing bumper cars here. And then Sweetling is doing great, so I chase Little Guy on his bike. (Little Guys favorite bike games are...race me...and 'oh no, big scary monster going to get me!') And after a while of doing both those activities in ninety degrees, full sunshine, on a blacktop, in the afternoon...Mommy was tired. So I went to stand beside the van, drink my waterbottle, and watch and encourage from a distance.

Which is when we get to the point of this story. Turning on a two wheeler is still tricky. So, Sweetling, heading towards a line of bushes at the end of the parking lot made a couple attempts at turning her bike, but they made her wobbly, so she kept going straight. Mommy, way too far away to get there even at a dead run, is yelling "Stop! Stop! Put your feet down!" Sweetling says she was screaming too loud to hear. Sweetling panics, takes her feet off the petals, and her hands off the handlebars, and hits the bushes at full tilt. I saw her little hands make one frantic grab to hang on to the bushes as the bike went in, and she went off the back of the bike.

From across the parking lot, I heard the crack as her helmet hit the black asphalt. By the time I got to her, she was struggling to her feet, and spitting out the leaves that her open, screaming mouth had nearly injested. Her bike was wedged several feet into the bushes. After reassuring myself and the Sweetling that she was all right, I had to crawl into the bushes to grab the seat of her bike and drag it backwards to get it out.

The helmet had a huge gouge out of the styrofoam where it had taken the impact in place of her skull.

So, safety helmets. Not just a result of yuppy lifestyles.

Sweetling, by the way, did a great job of getting back on her bike and riding it again. Little Guy, who thought that this was all very funny, rode his bike into the bushes on purpose twice before Mommy could convince him not to do that.

All in all, a great Friday outing.

Robin Hood and St. George

Sweetling and I are doing school. Her literature assignment is to write a two paragraph essay comparing and contrasting Robin Hood and St. George (using the short stories "St. George and the Dragon" by J. Berg Esenwien and Marietta Stockard, and "Robin Hood and Allin-a-Dale" by James Baldwin). We're doing this together as a nice example of how to write a short academic essay. Sweetling wanted to post in on my blog.

Here's our outline:
1. same
a. care for poor
b. brave
2. different
a. St George would have given his own money to the poor, Robin Hood took from the rich
b. St. George helps people solve their problems by getting rid of the problem by murder, Robin Hood would solve their problem in a non-lethal way

Here's our essay:

St. George and Robin Hood are both brave heros who care for the poor. After all the trouble in St. George's city was gone, he went out to see what else he could do. He didn't just lay around and do nothing. Robin Hood was willing to rob from others to give it to the poor.
St. George is a knight whose job is to uphold the law, but Robin Hood is an outlaw who breaks the rules. If St. George wanted to give money to the poor, he would have given his own money, but Robin Hood took it from others. St. George solved everyone's problems by killing whatever was causing the problem, for example he killed the dragon that was threatening the city. But, Robin Hood would solve their problems in a non-lethal way. For example when Alin-a-Dale came to him with the problem that his fiance was marrying someone else, Robin Hood didn't kill that woman or the person she was marrying.

demented and sad, but social

I was feeling slightly bummed about my list, but that quickly changed when I won my cash cow trophy. Here is my Phoebe standing beside her trophy. I also made chocolate chip cookies. Those things are sort of related. Reach for it.

three day weekend

All weekends should come with three days in them. Unless, of course, they had four days in them.

In no particular order I--

--sat on a blanket in the shade of a tree and read a Star Trek novel while Sweetling, Little Guy, and the Jedi rode bikes in the church parking lot.
--spent several hours trying to win a trophy for Cash Cow on Webkinz.
--lost splendidly at a game of Age of Empires.
--tried to convince Little Guy that mommy didn't forget to pour juice in his cup...the juice was just *invisible*.
--watched videos of Sweetling when she was a baby. Laid on the couch and cried after she had gone to bed because she didn't *need* me anymore
--wished there was a cookie fairy to bring homebaked chocolate chip cookies to good little girls like me.
--got a nifty new tablet PC cause the Jedi loves me. Played with it, but didnt save any of the doodles.
--went $50 over budget at the grocery store on Friday
--learned from another mom with preschool boys that needing to clean the bathroom at least once a day was totally normal.
--tried to convince the Jedi that every child drinks their hot chocolate with a spoon. That's just how its *done*
--gave up on my cash cow trophy and rearranged my Webkinz yard instead. (I gave up on my real yard back in May of this year. I just had no time or energy to put into failing at gardening this year.)
--went overboard in printing out cute little graphics for little know special days to put on the september calendar. our calendar now has playdoh day, talk like a pirate day, and elephant appreciation day.
--did NOT join a new online rp. But oh the temptation.
--did NOT watch Angel. I'm on a critical episode and I can't get the disk to play either in the laptop or on the media center pc. Boo hoo.
--watched another episode of the States with the Jedi. Saw more places that I'd love to visit "someday"
--did not have to clean house or cook dinner for guests from the international sales offices at the Jedi's work. I love having them to dinner, because they have such great stories (and the guy from Belgium brings chocolate). But I'm in a lazy three day weekend mode.
--avoided getting involved in the tickle wars between children and the Jedi
--ate the very last of the Chinese leftovers from our anniversary on Wednesday
--ate many spoonfuls of Heggy's fudge straight from the container

This list is a little less eclectic than I would like it to be. What can I do to change that?

Poem (not by Me)

Best Thing about Homeschooling
by Marty Layne

Time to sit and read to your children out loud
Time to stay in your pajamas all day and play
Time to watch your children as they put on plays
Time to listen to your children
Time to look at spiders
Time to go for a walk when the sun is shining,
or the rain has just started to fall, or the wind is blowing hard
Time to understand your children, to discover what makes them happy,
sad, mad, or glad, and help them understand themselves
Time to build relationships
Time for a child to follow an interest
Time for a child to be bored
Time to sing
Time for a child to learn how to live in a family with other people
all sharing the same space
Time for a child to just sit outside and daydream
Time for a child to read
Time for a child to discover things
Time to paint in the kitchen and make a mess
Time to learn patience
Time to laugh together
Time to play games together
Time to just sit with a child and be quiet together
Time to call your own.

Little Guy came dancing into the school room today. I was working with Sweetling on something. Little Guy was chanting, "More school for me! More school for me! I love my school! More school for me!"

Sweetling took her first unit assessment for Pre-Algebra today. It is, by the way, totally NOT ok to call pre-algebra "math." She has a pre-algebra book, not a math book, thank you. And its not time to do math, its time to do prealgebra. And of course, the notebook is a pre-algrebra notebook, not a math notebook. And the student pages are pre-algebra student pages, not math. And on it goes. And "Sarah sold 17 more cakes on Saturday than she sold on Friday. How many cakes did she sell in all?" can be found with the expression 17 + 2n, of course.

Unfinished Business

I got tired of having the unfinished Richard and Fawn sketch as my wallpaper. So I took a few minutes and made this instead.

From an email forward

North and South

The North has Bloomingdale's, the South has Dollar General.

The North has coffee houses, the South has Waffle Houses.

The North has dating services, the South has family reunions.

The North has switchblade knives; the South has Lee Press-on Nails.

The North has double last names; the South has double first names.

The North has Indy car races; The South has stock car races.

North has Cream of Wheat, the South has grits.

The North has green salads, the South has collard greens.

The North has lobsters, the South has crawfish.

The North has the rust belt; the South has the Bible Belt.

FOR NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH . .

In the South: --If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.

Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store.... do not buy food at this store.

Remember, "Y'all" is singular, "all y'all" is plural, and "all y'all's" is plural possessive

Get used to hearing "You ain't from round here, are ya?"

Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later on ho w to use it.

Don't be worried at not understanding what people are saying. They can't understand you either. The first adjectives to creep into a transplanted Northerners speech are "big'ol," and "little 'ol". Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it.

The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper!

Be advised that "He needed killin" is a valid defense here.

If you hear a Southerner exclaim, "Hey, y'all watch this," you should stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say

If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether you need anything or not.

Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas taught them how to aim.

In t he South, we have found that t he best way to grow a lush green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a driveway.

AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear children, don't think we will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.

Send this to four people that ain't related to you, and I reckon your life will turn into a country music song 'fore you know it.

Your kin would get a kick out of it too!

Flora and Fauna

Background Info:
--On Mondays we have a pretest of the week's spelling words. If she gets a 90% or more, she doesnt have to do any worksheets for the week. We just write down the words she missed on a 'sticky' note and tack it to the wall. On Friday's we test all the stickies (and the words for the week, if she got less than 90% on the pretest).
--Each day, she lets one of her nine and teen webkinz have a special day. That webkinz joins us for school and goes everywhere with her that day.
--Today was Monday. Ergo spelling pretest and also Stompy the Hippo's special day.

Me (reading the spelling word and the prefab sentence from the teacher's guide): "Fauna. Poets often use the word fauna when writing about animal life in nature. Fauna."

Sweetling: What's fauna?

Me: "animal life in nature" (cause I'm so clever that way). You know, ...the flora and fauna of the forest bespoke my secret heart...

Sweetling: Stompy is covering his ears, which is very smart.

In other news, I'm not doing AHG next year. I haven't told Telephone yet. I was *going* to tell her today, cause we were going over to her house in the afternoon to watch high school musical 2. But, yeah. We got there, we started the movie right away, and Telephone had to scoot out RIGHT after the movie to get her boy to his soccer game. So.

Mouse Trap

Its 9am on a Friday morning. I've been up since 5:30. For those 3 and 1/2 hours...I have nothing to show. I've gotten a shower, true, had breakfast, true. I surfed the web. I made Little Guy his breakfast (which he is now refusing to eat for some unknown reason.) Sweetling has been making a penguin family since 7:15. (And the "What were you thinking, Mommy?" question from yesterday is totally forgotten in her little mind.) We did have a short discussion about multiplying both sides of an equation by a reciprical fraction when a variable has a fraction as a coeffiecent....but you know, that was just light morning time conversation.

But the real reason I'm blogging is that my sink has a stack of four stinky mouse traps sitting in it. Oh yes it does. Stinky like, there might still be a dead mouse inside of one of them. That degree of stinky. We have a mouse in the laundry room somewhere. he nibbled on a bag of brown sugar in the downstairs pantry and I heard him making his mousey noises yesterday morning, when I was awake at 5am. I told the Jedi we needed to pick up some mousetraps. (Meaning of course, that he needed to pick up some mousetraps.) The Jedi went out to the garage this morning and found this four box like mousetraps from a few years ago. He brought them in to show me them at 7am....cause that's exactly what I want at 7am. He said, "They're going to need some cleaning, then I'll set them up when I get home tonight." Appparantly by that he meant "you are going to need to clean them so that they are ready for me to set up when I get home tonight." I found them stacked in the sink when I went in to make myself some hot chocolate.

Let the universe hear and tremble, for I am NOT touching those things.

I sprayed them with Lysol, which didn't help. It will, however, probably be enough to render them useless as micetraps. (Is micetraps an acceptable plural of mousetraps?) I'm working up the courage to go in, unload the dishwasher, put the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher, put the stopper in the sink....and fill the sink with bleach water. That is as close as I am willing to come to cleaning the things. Even then...I have to be much nearer to them than I want to be. I'll just have to keep adding water and bleach to the sink throughout the day, cause the stopper doesn't totally seal the sink.

Vaya is going to have all kinds of animal right fits about this post. Fine. Vaya can come remove the mice from my house if she wants to.

What were you thinking, Mommy?

Sweetling, in theory, starts school at 7:30 am. Little Guy, in theory, sleeps later...then wakes up and watches a PBS show. At 8:30, in theory, the tv goes off, and everyone goes to the kitchen for breakfast and devotions. (Though for Sweetling, its a morning snack, cause she eats breakfast with daddy before school.)

So, at 8:30 today, I went it to turn off the TV and collect Little Guy for devotions and breakfast. He was watching Little Einsteins on Playhouse Disney. Now, the thing with turning off the TV is that you have to do it AFTER the closing credits of the last show but BEFORE the "stay tuned" clips for the next show. Mommy, who is timing challenge, loses at this precision based task quite often. So he caught enough to know that Mickey's Playhouse was next. "Mickey Mouse? Mickey Mouse? Mickey Mouse please Mommy?"

Now, I'm pretty sure that he has never watched Mickey Mouse since coming home with us. I don't know how he even knows who Mickey Mouse is. But, I...being the great educator that I am...immediately decided that Little Guy absolutely needed to be familiar with Mickey Mouse. That's like foundational American culture and history there. I said as much. It totally counts for school for Little Guy. Sweetling, who had wondered into the room, was looking at me like I might be an alien in disguise.

I brought Little Guy his breakfast at the table in the living room. (Breakfast, by the way, was pink eggs on toast with green juice. Hooray for food coloring. Yesterday it was green eggs and pink juice.) Sweetling is still staring at me. Finally she says. "I can't believe you're doing this. What were you thinking, Mommy?"

I then proceeded to remind the little girl of the number of times we suspended regular lessons for any of a number of creative projects...the most recent was an entire webkinz village made out of boxes and paper grocery bags decorated with tissue paper. This consumed the whole afternoon and took up the entire floor of the game room. She challenged me to name another time. Here was the very incomplete list I rattled off. Maybe tonight or tomorrow, I can get Sweetling to help me add to it.

--a spaghetti restaurant for advarks complete with dishes, play food, menus, drinks, tablecloth, and of course, aardvarks.
--beds for cyberworms and paper clothes for the cyberworms to wear
--a pet sitting business
--multiple lunch time diners
--inumerable paper puppets drawn, cut out, and attached to popsicle sticks
--math word problems that develop into 90 minute imagination games with fisher price people
--Cyberchase marathons
--Fetch marathons
--Jo Jo circus marathons

Now, its just gotten unnaturally quiet. Mommy senses are tingling. Have to find Little Guy.

Penguin, Mommy, Penguin!

I just need to make note of the fact that if a penguin is spotted anywhere, in any format, whichever of my children has spotted it (or both if they are together) immediately start crying "Penguin, Mommy! Penguin!" This earnest plea is repeated frantically until I drop whatever I am doing and come running to see the penguin. Tears occur if I don't make it in time. Cause they love me.

Little Guy has legos. He loves the legos. He is discovering certain engineering principles the hard way. Rather, certain engineering principles are demanding to be taken into account, despite how much Little Guy whines or gets frustrated when his towers break apart. There are whimpers coming out of his bedroom now. He wants an exact lego duplicate of his fisher price castle. Now, his a tiny bit used to handing me a crayon and a piece of paper and having me draw any cartoon character or other object that he names. He doesn't understand why he can't hand me a bunch of legos and say "Dinosaur, Mommy." Mommy therefore should build a dinosaur, right? Wrong. Mommy tells him that I am not the Lego engineer he is looking for.

Sweetling is wearing her hair in pigtails today. This is significant cause its the first time she's worn pigtails, ponytails, or braids since getting her hair cut to donate to Locks of Love.

I need a new wall paper. I'm tired of the unfinished Richard and Fawn sketch. And no, the solution to this is *not* to finish the sketch. Foolish mortal.

Chocolate bars left in the van in the summer time melt.

Also, I should get xp or drama points for walking out to my van *all by myself* last night after Smurf subjected me to the movie "Perfume".

How long do chocolate bars need to stay in the fridge before they become edible? And, should I do anything about the tears in Little Guy's room over the legos? He hasn't asked for help. Mommy instincts say go in and make it all better. My brain tells me not to be a helicopter mom and to let him try to work it out himself. The rest of me just says go get the chocolate bar and a straw.

Snips, snails, sugar, and spice

We dropped the Jedi off at work this morning because the drum brakes on his car have fused to something and are being stubborn. Anyway, I turned the wrong way coming out of his work, forgetting that I wanted to take the back roads to avoid the highway construction. "Shoot," says I.

"Shoot," says Little Guy.

"Mommy," says Sweetling, "you need to watch your language around small children."

"Shoot," says Little Guy.

"You're right," says I as I turn the car around. "I should be more careful."

"Shoot," says Little Guy. "Shoot, shoot, shoot."

Now, I'd like to point out that this word was, in fact, "shoot," and not another variation thereof.

In other news, we've started school, so expect more computer time from me. I also have two yummy containers of Heggy's hot fudge in the fridge. (And a Webkinz chocolate lab named Heggy....for those of you who are Webkinz challenged, that makes my third...all of them gifts from Sweetling, who now has 19. Nine and teen.)

The airconditioning in the house has died. After running for nearly two weeks straight because we had days that were ranging in the high 90s to low 100s with 90% humidity and nights that barely got below 80, our air conditioner has finally died.

More stories later. Going to pick up Sweetling's good friend....who has yet to be blog named. That's like a special Christening ritual. Blognaming.

Or an old norse ritual. It has the consonents for that.

Catching Up Is Hard To Do

So much for regular updates. I just don't sit at the computer in the summer. Summers are made for playing, not sitting at the computer being semi-productive.

Since I have so much to write about and catch up on, I'm not going to try. Yes, that's the sort of lazy pathetic person that I am.

I'm just going to skip to the current topic of interest. A few years ago, I got a book out of the library called Nurture by Nature. It uses a simplified version of the Meyers-Briggs personality index to help identify your child's natural inclinations along with some strategies and tips for better relating to your child. Its actually a lot more interesting and helpful than that boring sentence made it sound. Anyway, I got it back out from the library a few weeks ago to reread the INFJ section that pertains to my Sweetling, and to see if I could narrow down what personality type Little Guy *might* be so that I could maybe relate to him and understand him a little better.

Here's some notes on the Sweetling:

The chapter's subtitle is "My Secret Garden" and the opening quote is "He's always off in his own world, which must be a fascinating place." After that, here are some super relevant descriptions of the Sweetling...

The fundamental quality of INFJs is their vivid and rivate imagination, their unique vision of the world and their place in it. They are driven to see the pattern and connection between things and are comletely faxcinated with their own view. They are sensitive and warm children...

The most important part of INFJ is their rich inner life, which is highly imaginative and capable of seeing unique possiblities everywhere. Often reserved and caustion children, INFJs may be reluctant to reveal their true and usually highly creativ selves wit others. Even then they are slective about whom they risk sharing thier ideas with, and they need to first make sure these special people are wll known and deeply trusted. Quiet, gentle, and sensitive, INFJs like to watch first and join in after they feel comfortable and safe. They are rarely very assertive except as regards their personal values, about which they can be quite forceful and passionat. Intellecturally curious, especially about theories...INFJs often have a uniqe vision about themselves and their projects. ...

INFJs tend to love fantasy in their play and their stories. They often speak early and with a sophisticates style that belies their years. They usually like and creative activity... They may have imaginary firens or close friendships with their stuffed animals.... They have a strong need for harmony, especially in their treasured ersonal relationships, and can be deeply wounded by insensitive or cruel comments...

Organized and efficient, INFJs are most comfortable with order, structure, and consistency. They are unnerved by constan ot raid change and need plenty of time, advanced warning, and loving support to adjust to it. They like to be on time and prepared for all of thier obligations, and they respect rules and authority. INFJs really like to be in control and can run the risk of being overly perfectionistic. The are frightended and stressed when too much changes too fast. Determined to stay in charge and unwilling to go against what they believe is right, they can have real trouble compromising or backing down. Some time alone, or quiet compaionship that reasures them they are supported and loved, helps INFJs regain their sense of optimism and balance.

(Ages 5-10) By the time most INFJs start school, they are eager to lear as much as they can...Elementary school INFJs tend to be great readers, with ecclectic tastes and interests...They like philosophical or tehical discussions and are able to grasp complex concepts quickly...INFJs are generally very resourceful children who enjoy creating things out of other things....INFJs are usually well liked as quitely friendly children, but they continue to prefer to have one best friend at a time....But while INFJs may be slective about which people they connect with, once they do, their commitments are often strong ones and thier feelings of friendship and concern depp and passionate. They tend to be sentimental and guided by their deeply felt sense of right ans wrong. Toward the end of elementay school, parents may notice that their children's value system is gaining increasing focus and strength...They want to know and obey the rules and are alarmed in others encourage them to bend rules.

(Joys and Challenges) Parents of INFJs often find that once their child has made up her mind, it is vitually impossible to get her to change it. INFJs like structure and are uncomfortable leaving their options open for too long. Since they would rather err on the side of decisiveness, they can get a bit stuck in their ways. Solw to adapt to change, they need plenty of time to switch gears once a plan has been made. While they may appear to be annoyed with you or not glad to see you unexpectedly, this is more often a reaction to pulling themselves out of thier inner world and reentering yours. Generally concerned about being on time, they can be alarmed and worried if you are late... While they may be intellectually adventurous, that quality is rarely expressed in the physical world.
Since most INFJs are so intensely private, they may be hesitant to participate in activites unless they know the other children well. This stems from thier strong need to be liked. if they don't know the children in the group, for example, they will often hang back and watch. Only after they have made a connection with one child will they feel more comfortable about joining in.
...[they] are well likded by most of thier peers for their quiet strenght sincerity, and integrity. In fact, many INFJs deomstrate excellent leadership qualities, and other children are drawn to them for the high quality of thier ideas and for their interpersonal warmth.
The time INFJs spend alone is not only happy time, but necessary time for them ot formulate thier thoughts, process the many new things they've experienced during the day, or simply engage in nourishing and satisfying daydreaming. However, this internal quality of the INFJs can make it hard for them to stay conntected to the external world: "One morning, eight-year-old Paticia and her mother were making Englis muffins, as they did most mornings. Patricia suddently looked a bit startles and asked, as she looked up at her mother, 'when did we get a toaster?' Of course, they'd had a toaster, and used it nearly every morning--for four years."
Parents who understand this quality of INFJs can help rotect them from a demanding and high-seed world. By crating private times and places, parents communicate a respect and understanding of thier child and help foster a close and intimate relationship that lasts a lifetime.
INFJs also need privacy to make the many intuitive connections they do and to develop thier creative ideas and visions. for them, the createive process is essentially a solitayr one. n fact, a high and procuctive level of creative endergy very often requires that they work alone. Percolating thier ideas inside allows a sort of positive pressure to build up, enabling them to push the ideas futher than they would if they shared it prematurely. Bringing the idea out inot the light (and noise) of the external day defuses some of its energy and its power. Therefore, many INFJs will avoid showing thir creative writing or drawing to anyone until it is finished. Comments or suggestions from caring onlookers may spoil the wole project for them. Well-meaning parents assume they are actively encouraging their child by offering compliments or suggestions and may be understandably confused when the child balls up the paper or loses interst in the porject. It is usaly best to stay silent until the project is finishes or the child seeks a reaction. Then compliments are welcome and are, in fact, an important form of appreciation and praise. INFJs like to hear that thier work is good or pleasing or interesting. Just wait until they ask. Parents can encourage their INFJs by simly providing the time, space, materials, and the essential quiet to create. Those actions speak much louder than words.
But perhaps the most confounding quality of INFJs is thier tendency toward perfectionism. Becouse they are most interested in projects that are complex and substantive, they can find themselves in over their heads... They will work so hard, reworking, adjusting, correcting, refiguring, and erfecting what they do, they run the risk of exhausting themselves or becoming discouraged if the product never truly measures up to their expectations and ideals. And since their ideals can be unrealistic, this is a real possiblitity.

(In a Crystal Ball) Lasting self-esteem for INFJs develops in a wamr and nurturing home where they are appreciated for their uniqueness and their original ideas. INFJS thrive in a crative and open-ended environament were they feel free and encouaged to explore, perfect, and produce their vision of how things might be. They need gentle guidance and constant affection.

(What works)
--Respect their need for quiet and time alone to play, think, or dream.
--Allow them to watch from the sidelines or begin participation on the periphery of the action before joining in.
--Speak privately and quietly when you are discussing or correcting their behavior.
--Try not to raise your voice or yell; apologize quickly if you do.
--Listen to their ideas and refrain from correcting or offering feed back that squelches thier imagination and zeal for the idea.
--Provide a variety of creative materials and encouage open-ended exploration.
--Give them plenty of physical conatc and affections; express your love for your child in little, thoughtful ways like love notes.
--Encourage them to express their feelings in words or through drawings.
--Listen and rephrase their feeling to help them clarify them; talk on-on-one as much as possible.
--Help them see that life is both fun and funny.
--Respect their privacy.
--Offer regular, qualit private time with one parent at a time--take your INFJ on a date!
--Ask for thier input and iedas ahead of time; include them in decision making.
--Don't interrupt or rush them through their talk.
--Don't tease them about thier heads being in the clouds--they hear enough of that from the rest of the world.


So, that tured out to be more than "some" notes. But the whole chapter is dead on in describing the Sweetling...and much of it is the exact opposite of how I operate. I needed to type it all out in hopes that I'll absorb and remember and adjust my own methods accordingly.

I'll try to get info on Little Guy's personality up as well. He's much harder to identify with a specific type though...partly because he's younger, partly becuase I haven't known him as long, and partly because this is such a time of transition and change for him, its hard to know if some of his behaviors and preferences are natural or induced by the upheavals in his life. Also, I think that his experiences in his first year of life have left a significant scar in how he operates. So, the questions is---is he an E with strong I tendencies because of the trauma of what he's been through? Or is he an I with strong E tendencies because his confidence and trust were so shaken that its made him more needy of constant reassurance from others? Personally, I think that he's acting more and more and more like an E as he becomes more comfortable and at home in his environment---so I think he is naturally an E who reverts to some I tendencies when confronted with a new and unfamiliar situation.

But now its 9:30 am. I'm in my nightgown and BOTH my children are sitting on the couch watching TV and NEITHER have been fed yet, so I'll save the rest of the notes and discussion of Little Guy for later. (Like maybe three weeks later....cause its still SUMMER baby. Little Guy has taken to saying "yeah, baby!" about things. I don't know where he could have picked that up.)

The Force is Not with Me

We were over at Mango's the other day (where Little Guy and Dash had a great time playing together....and Sweetling and Violet disappeared into Violet's room for a few hours). At lunch, Mango asked Sweetling if everyone in our family was a jedi. Sweetling said, everyone but Mommy....because the Force is not always with Mommy.

I'm taking a break in reading the Anne of Green Gables series. I got up to the eigth book...Rilla of Ingleside, and I know that WWI is going to break upon the idyllic lifes of the Blythe family. I'm not quite ready to face that, so a short break from the books is in order.

Transitions here have been going really well for Sweetling and Little Guy. Little Guy is a bit more in need of near constant attention and interaction than I'm used to. He just loves to share the wonderful things in his life with his Mommy and Daddy.

Sweetling wants to have a Fourth of July party. She had summer Sunset Camp every evening last week, and I think that was really good for her.

Little Guy went to the Newport Aquarium a couple of weeks ago. He liked it, but was a bit overwhelmed by the length of the outing. (Sweetling, of course, had to read and digest every informational sign in the building). We all got to touch sharks! *That* was totally cool.

As you can tell, I'm not in a very, um, yeah...I'm struggling with writing today. But its been forever since I updated, so I'm pushing through my block.

Little Guy brought a stuffed octopus home from the aquarium. He pronounces "octopus" in something that sounds closer to "apple toes". Its very cute. He also has a super sling shot monky with elastic arms that can be stretched and sent flying across the room, howling its jungle monkey war cry as it goes. Daddy brought that lovely gift home for him. Daddy also ordered one for himself to "dispense monkey justice" upon the occupants of neighboring cubicles at work. Sweetling got an elastic frog of the same design. Fortunately, it's ribbet isn't nearly as loud or annoying as the monkey war cry. Super Monkey lives in a bug box, suspended by its handle from a hook in the wall. The box is now Super Monkey's treehouse.

We're down to one car for a week. Now, I didn't have any plans or desire to go somewhere today, but the very fact that I can't makes me feel restless, coped up, and bored. Its too hot and humid to go on a walk. At best I'll send to little children through the sprinkler in the back yard.

The 30 minute PBS program has come to an end. Maybe I'll just chase the children around the yard with a garden hose. Till later.