Tuesday, March 22, 2011
I am nothing if not organized. Which is strange because I am pretty ADD as well, so I guess that disorganized part of ADD skipped me. The bad part of being an organized ADD person is that I cannot focus on anything else unless everything is in it's rightful place.
I have a shoe rack in the garage right next to the door. This is for dirty shoes. I have a shoe bin in the mudroom for the clean-ish shoes to be placed so that we know where they are when we need them and we don't have to keep running to the closet to get the shoes we've been wearing today. Ideally, this would be for 1 pair of shoes per person because this should be for the shoes we are wearing today, not the shoes we have worn for the past week. It has become a shoe collection bin. A couple of times a week I load up each kid with several pairs of shoes and ask them to put them in their closets. Each time I remind them of the 1 pair of shoes per person idea. Each time they respond with, "OOOHHHH", as if they have never heard this before and think it's a strange concept. It's mind boggling.
The outside shoe rack is a similar but more complicated arrangement. Ideally, this is a place for cleats, gardening shoes, a pair of flips you put on just to go outside, rain boots, Wellington's and most of Clay's work shoes.
Here is the problem.
Rarely, does a shoe make it to the rack unless I put it there. Rarely. I am thinking of putting a shoe basket right smack in front of the door and see if anyone will attempt to put their shoes in the basket since that's where they leave their shoes anyway. We would, of course, have to step over the basket coming in and out of the house and if it was big enough to house these many shoes it would be a burden for most of us to step over, especially Sophie. And since she is the main culpret it might be a good consequence... Maybe then she would respect the shoe rack.
Monday, March 21, 2011
So this weekend I accomplished something that I am sure proud of... I painted Landry's bedroom. Not only did I paint his room but I did it without any spills, no mess ups, no crazy paint lines everywhere and very little paint in my eyes. I am so proud. I want to bring small tours of people in and show them each corner and all of the little areas where I cut the paint in. I am so talented and patient. Wow! I impress me very rarely so this one is NICE!
In other news I am the only person in my house not sick at the moment. I just stopped what I was doing to go wake Landry up and give him some cough medicine. Clay actually went to the doctor on Saturday without me telling him to. Sophie is at the tail end of her snotty nose and spends all day clearing her throat and occasionally hacking up a loogie. She's funny!
Speaking of funny, She came home today with her writing from school. There was a drawing of our Vet visit with Pepper last week. Her writing said this, " Me and my mom took Pepper to the Vet. She got too shots. one was on top of her neck. the other one was on the bottume of her neck. and she got bloud took out her leg. their was a thing that they put in her Butt. it got poop out it was desking. the end.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Yesterday, I was up at my kid's school and one one of the wonderful TA's stopped me and let me know that Sophie got hurt during PE. My response was not one of panic because Sophie gets hurt every day. Sometimes, several times a day.
If someone is going to get hurt, it is going to be Sophie. If someone is going to let you know that they are hurt, it is going to be Sophie. So, needless to say, I was not surprised. I am, as they say, calloused to the various hurts, bruises, scrapes, bumps, bonks and falls that my poor daughter brings to the table. She is so dramatic about it all that I tend to listen to the problem, look at it, assess the situation and send her on her sad little way with a kiss and a hug and a get over it.
Which didn't serve me well today.
This evening the kids and I met a whole group of friends at a restaurant. As we were walking in, Sophie, ran into a railing and cut her chin open. I was walking in front of her and didn't see it happen. I just heard her wail and turned to see her wedged into the intricately designed railing. I thought to myself, "did your dumb self just stick your arms in a railing?" I walked back to her impatiently and a little embarrassed, to find that she was actually holding on to the railing to keep from falling out on the floor... and her chin was split open and bleeding...a lot.
I felt like a meanie. I felt like a mean ass. But seriously, who walks into a railing and splits their chin open? Craziness!
Needless to say, I ended up leaving the party to go to Walgreen's and purchase butterfly band aids to close the wound because it would not stop bleeding. We put them on and she acted wounded for about 15 minutes and then played with her friends as though she were a whole well child. Miracle of miracles! Every now and then she would remember that she was hurt and come find me with her sad eyes and start talking without moving her mouth. Once she used the sad eyes to ask for a "chocowate dessert".
I think she will be fine until we try to take off the band aids.
Maybe I will do it one night while I am NOT SLEEPING and she is. I can pick her up and put her in bed with Clay and I. Then I will pull off the band aids. If she wakes up I can blame it on Clay!
Monday, November 9, 2009
9:00 a.m. Monday morning
I am walking through the house. I have just hung up the phone and am going back outside to work in my garden when I spy, coming up the sidewalk to my front door, three random people. I am suddenly struck with fear because I don't open my door to strangers, ever! I don't buy stuff from small children. I don't meet city council people campaigning. I don't entertain Mormon's. If I don't know you, my door isn't open. The problem with this rule of mine is that my house is very open. VERY. I have two giant windows in the study and dining room and large double front doors that are 70% windowed. From the front door, you can see through to the kitchen, living room, dining room, study and back patio. There is only one small wall in between the living room and the dining room. It is actually less than two feet wide. It became my hiding place this morning.
Seriously, I hid behind an 18 inch wall for about 5 minutes while these people rang my doorbell, commented on the decor of my house and finally walked away. If they had decided to come around and look in any of the windows, they would have seen me and after I chewed them out for trespassing, I would have felt really stupid for hiding.
Why I can't open the door and deal with these people is beyond me. I am not afraid of them. I just really want to avoid the whole encounter. I don't want to talk to them about their strange religious choices. I know I won't change their mind. They aren't changing mine. Also, there is the whole idea of opening your door to strangers when they could be dangerous. Why would I open my door to you if I do not know you. I have thought about putting a discreet little sign that says no soliciting please, but that is so crabby and Scroogish. Maybe I could get one that says:
Dear Jehovah's Witnesses, Mormon's, Roofing Companies, Campaigners, Small Cute Fundraising Children and anyone else who doesn't already know us,
Please don't ring our doorbell because we love Jesus. We believe he is the one true Son of God and is the only way that we will be getting to heaven. We are not changing our minds. You should check into why you believe what you believe.
When we need a new roof, we will call a roofer. You may leave your card.
We vote Republican. We read the papers and understand your position. Please do not put your sign in our yard. Unless, of course, you would like to pay us for advertising for you.
We have our own small cute fundraising kids. We buy from them.
We don't know you. We are not opening our door to you. It's not safe.
Thanks for your cooperation.
Of course this would be done in a tasteful chrome plaque with smiley faces and and a small sign under it that says "Smile your on Camera".
Friday, October 23, 2009
I have come to a place where I am not as vain as I used to be. Well, I may be the same amount of vain, but not at 7:55 a.m.!
There is a large group of women at my kid's school who look fabulous at drop off and pick up. I have never seen any of them looking like they just woke up and spent the last hour harassing small children only to kick them out of the car and yell, "I love you (despite my yelling and harsh attitude this morning)!" Their Hair is done, make-up on, clothes IRONED! They even have jewelry on (RH). They look great!
Since Landry started Kindergarten, I have been one of these people. Rarely have I been seen at school looking less than fresh and ready to go. I usually spend my 45 minutes in the morning running around making sure I was ready for the whole day before I stepped out of the door. Now, 4 years later, I am done! I get up, feed the people, make sure they have all that they need, wash my face, moisturize, throw on yoga clothes, put my head in a hat and head to school.
No make-up, no hair done, not remotely ready for anything but going back home. I find this to be so relaxing. So much so that sometimes 3:00 rolls around and I am still in the same condition. I throw my hat back on and head out the door to pick up my kids. To my surprise, no one has said, "Dang, what happened to you?"
Until yesterday, when I stopped by the local grocery store before pick up. I had taken off my make-up because I seem to be having an allergic reaction to my new mascara. My eyes were red and my hair was in a pony tail. I thought, no big deal. No one cares.
Except the goofy guy at the grocery store who asked me, "Why are you crying? You look terrible."
Dang, now I have to get dressed to go to the grocery store!!! Better yet, I think I will just go to a different grocery store!
Friday, October 16, 2009
When my kids were toddlers they were really into flashlights. Landry had several cartoon character flashlights that would run out of batteries so often that Clay finally bought him a nice rechargable one. Sophie never asked for a nice rechargeable one because it was plain black. Why have a black one when you can have Ariel or Cinderella or a hot pink and purple number? Know what I'm sayin'?
Sophie and I have purchased several flashlights in the past 6 years, whether we needed them or not. It seems at least once a month we would be walking through Target and she would spy a display of new flashlights hanging oh so unobtrusively in the toilet paper aisle, where they belong. I mean, how many times have you been sitting on the toilet and thought, you know I could use a Sleeping Beauty flashlight right about now? Anyway, I remember being enraptured myself by an Ariel flashlight with actual water and floating fish in it. It was a beauty. Of course we bought it. Who wouldn't?
This same flashlight turned up several weeks ago in need of batteries. I sat it on the counter in the laundry room and tried to remember to pick up size C batteries. After a couple of weeks I finally remembered the batteries! I got them home only to discover that this flashlight needs double A's, which of course, we are all out of. So, another couple of weeks go by with several trips to the grocery(and various other battery having) stores and I come home with no double A batteries. I walk into the house and the stupid flashlight is sitting there starring at me. Every couple of days Sophie sees it and asks about batteries until she finally says, "Are you ever going to get batteries for my Ariel flashlight? You go to the store all of the time!"
Today I finally remember the double A batteries! I come home victorious, put them in, turn it on and.................nothing...................the bulb is burned out.
I think I am throwing it away. I will probably have to because I plan on runnimg it over with my car. I don't think it will work after that, battery or no battery!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Have I told you that I am an insomniac? Yes, I have been officially diagnosed. I actually went to a sleep lab and did not sleep. So now I am officially an insomniac. I now have official insomniac drugs that are obviously not working tonight.
I have tried to sleep. I read my book in another room and once I was drowsy, I made my way to my soft, comfy bed where my husband was sleeping soundly. I rested my head on the cozy pillow and my brain turned on and it won't shut off. I tell you what, I have had some seriously deep discussions with many friends in my head this evening. I am pretty sure that I have solved some problem situations for some of my friends I have rebutted comments that people have made about me or in certain situations where I obviously feel the need to re butt. I have thought earnestly about what I am going to do when the kids are in school next week and what conversations I may have with my friends and family tomorrow on the very same subject. I have stopped my brain and tried to breath in a yoga rhythm while laying in a resting pose. I have sung varios songs, some of which were not restful. And finally, I have starred at my husband while he breaths deeply and twitches in the moonlight.
This starring has caused a chain of thoughts to permeate by brain, which I am a little ashamed of.
Bless me father for I have sinned.
I have harbored ill thoughts toward my husband while he lay unaware and frankly very vulnerable.
I have imagined kicking him out of the bed and laughing when he thuds, not knowing what hit him, to the ground. I have envisioned myself leaping from the bed in one swift catlike movement grabbing the pillow and pouncing on him, holding the pillow over his face until his slumber is completely disturbed. I have on one or more occasions actually pinched his nose together to see if he opens his mouth to breathe. He does. I did think about doing it again tonight. For sport.
This sounds totally mean...and it is.
I am just very envious of his ability to sleep. He seems to have no worries, no brain going ninety to nothing, no uncomfortability, just peaceful sleep. Peaceful, restful, slumber.
It eludes me. And it makes me think evil thoughts.
And since I'm still awake, wouldn't it be funny to draw a third eye on his forehead? Or I could pull all of the covers off of the bed, turn the ac down really low and go sleep upstairs. Hee Hee Hee heee
Oh geez, I think I will go read some more.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
This is a short installement. I promise to follow with more very soon, okay Janette??
You know your kid watches too much TV when she tells you a long and involved story about Candace..
And you ask. "Who is Candace?"
And she looks at you like your skin has turned green and she places her hand on her hip, kicks it out, cocks her head to the side, rolls her eyes and says, "Candace...is Phineas and Ferb's sisterrrrrrrr, DUH!"
Or when she is chasing her brother and his friend with what she refers to as the "Golden Pink of DOOOOMMM!" Which is the adorable pink lanyard from Disneyworld with the adorable trading pins that cost $6-12 each.
Or when she is sitting in the back seat of the car and she yells, "Mom, it's your money and you need it now!"
Or when she is about to scare her brother and she says, "I'm a bad, bad girl." and spanks her bottom.
Friday, March 20, 2009
Pissification - the process that water takes from the ground to the clouds and back down as rain again. (Landry explained this to Sophie like a professor in the car. Soph, already knew all about pissification)
Showing your Privacy - not sitting in a lady like position. ("Sophie stop showing us your privacy.")
At the rodeo this last week I look down to see Clay and Uncle Chicken (cousin Scott) and Landry betting actual cash money on the chuck wagon races. Landry lost. You think he would learn his lesson? NOPE
Tonight, after I peeked in to say goodnight to Lands while he and dad where reading books..oh..wait..no those aren't books...those are cards.
"What are ya'll doing?"
"We're playing a game where the first person to get to 200 wins 5 bucks."
"What are you teaching my son?"
"Uh, to uh, play cards for uh, money.?" sheepish grin.
So, where do boys learn this stuff, uh from, uh their uh, DADS!
Thursday, March 12, 2009
This is for you, Alyson & Brooke....
I recently had a call from Landry's doctor's office. They said they needed to reschedule a a doctor's appointment for LAUNDRY McCook......Could LAUNDRY come on Tuesday instead of Monday?
Who in their right mind names their kid Laundry? Who in their right mind leaves a message for a kid that they think might be named Laundry without consulting someone in the office? Is this woman often confronted with odd names like Cheesecake Smith or Refrigerator Duncan?
I just wonder what makes people so dense?
I have been called many a name in my time. Tish, Tisha, Tasha, Tara, Tanya, Theresa...to name a few. It 's almost as if the person sees a few letters and that automatic text recognition thing comes on in their brain and overrides whatever is written, like on your cell phone. OH, don't get me started on that thing... it is so handy yet so frustrating. I can not tell you how many times I type tomorrow and end up with tomato. Because I often text people about tomatoes! Clay and I have a running text joke with the word "karate". Several times I tried to type "ok" and for some reason it kept sending "karate". After about the third "karate" he called to ask me what "karate" meant. So now, I often respond with "karate". Feel free to use it in your texting world. Maybe it will catch on. Karate?
Speaking of texting. Isn't it odd to say and hear people say "texted"? As in, "I just texted my friend." It just sounds wrong. It sounds kind of countryfried. I usually say, " I just sent my friend a text." Just to avoid having to say "texted".
Anywho, back to names. Today I heard a name that was just depressing. Someone actually knows somebody who knows somebody who told somebody about a baby who was named, Shithead (pronounced with a "th" sound). She was probably the sister of Lemonjello and Orangejello who are the cousins of Female and Male. Clay's cousins swear they went to school with Lemonjello and Orangello. You know if there really is someone out there with that bad of a name they probably take every opportunity to make fun of someone elses name. I bet they are the telemarketers who called my house several times asking for Mr. My Cock. No kidding. The first time I sat there in stunned silence before I said, "Seriously, did you really just ask for Mr. My Cock? I mean really? Are you that stupid or are you just really rude?"
The next time I just hung up, but now I have a wonderful comeback. Doesn't that always happen? You think of the best things to say after the fact? Next time I will say, " You mean Dr. My Cock the penile implant specialist? It sounds like you need an appointment. Or, where you looking for the Pull Your Head Out of Your Ass Clinic?
Good one, huh? I am waiting by the phone.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Landry says the funniest things.
He really does.
When he is trying to be funny he isn't, but when he is being sincere and says something off the wall. He is really humorous.
A couple of weeks ago, he came downstairs and told me he was sure he had "the Shrek throat." I am sure that it felt as bad as it sounded. Can you just imagine him opening his mouth and his throat being all green and swollen with puss pockets and a swamp stench?
I could. This is how my imagination works.
Of course he did have strep throat and since he is so sensitive to it, we only missed out on one day of life. I usually bribe my kids with a toy if they choose a shot over 10 days of medication. Normally I put a price limit on it, like $10 or $20 depending on the severity of the shot. This time, before I even mentioned it, Landry said, "Mom, I will get the shot if you will get me a $5 prize at Target." I agreed post haste. He was a little disappointed when we went to Target and he realized there is not much you can get for $5.
Bummer! Hee Hee.
This morning on the way to school we were talking about Sophie's nickname, which is Cricket. I started calling her this when she was about 2. Her little voice sounded like a cricket chirp. As she grew older her fascination with bugs has made the name stick. She always has a bug in a cage somewhere. She will stop in the middle of whatever she is doing to examine and capture any bug or lizard that comes her way.
While we were talking about this, Landry said, "Sophie, I think you are going to be an Enchiladas when you grow up." He voiced this so sincerely and complimentary. So, I tried not to laugh until he said, "Mom, what is and Enchiladaness anyway?"
I couldn't hold it anymore. I laughed from Arkansas lane to Steeplechase Dr. The word he was looking for was Entomologist. Entomology is the study of bugs. I am positive that we may be one of 5 people in Tarrant county that know what an Entomologist is. I am also positive that Landry may be the only person ever to confuse bugs with enchiladas. Well, I guess it depends on what country you live in!
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Have you ever had one of those weeks where things seem to NOT be going your way....
Things like the time you turned into Godzilla and yelled mercilessly at your kids while they stared at you crying.
Or...when you turned into an absolute lunatic because you were ticked off about something and you took it out on your whole family and screamed at your husband.
Or...that time when you were pulling into a parking spot at school and you side swiped another vehicle.
Or...possibly this morning when you, once again, screamed at your kid when she pitched a stupid fit about her brand new shoes not fitting?
Have you had one of those weeks when everything you do makes you mad or goes wrong or doesn't please you in some way?
Is it just me?
Well, this has been that week. And I have desperately needed a change in my mood and the weather. I don't think I can take anymore gloomy, cold, foreboding days. I don't want to hear anymore bad news. I don't want to have to discipline any more kids. I don't want to have any more serious discussions with anyone about anything at all. I don't want to see a depressing movie. I don't want to eat boring food.
I need a break.
And today, thank you God, I got one and it came in the most obnoxious and hysterical way.
My friend, Jill and I were at yoga.
We had just finished savasana (which is a resting pose at the end of a yoga) when we were told to roll on to our right side and rest for a minute.....
the room was totally silent until...somebody FARTED!!!!!!!!
I am not talking about a toot. No siree. This was a fart! Somebody let one rip......right at the end of yoga.
Listen, I am not now, nor have I ever pretended to be, a mature adult person. I tried with all my might to ignore it and continue my relaxation. I tried with all my might not to look at Jill.
Somehow we caught each others eye and we both lost control. While all the other mature adult people were sitting up and quietly finishing the practice, Jill and I remained in child's pose with our arms over our heads trying desperately to not make any noise as we laughed and cried uncontrollably.
There was snot coming out of my nose. I could not see for the tears and I could not quit laughing. I would try to stop and then I would hear Jill gasping for breath and I would just lose it again.
Needless to say, we remained in this position until the whole class, sans the teacher, left the room. Then we finally got up and laughed and cried some more, out loud. Then we went to Starbucks and laughed some more. Then I called a bunch of people and told them about it. It has made my day. It has made my whole week.
There is something so timeless about fart jokes.
P.S. I realized why I have been such a shrew this week. I should be taking my hormones!!!! I am going to have to calendar this stuff or I will have to keep contributing money to my kids counseling funds.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Another more important event happened this weekend. Landry was baptized. It was a fun day because he was baptized along with his friend, Lauren Nevil, by my dad on Hanging of the Green Sunday.
The Hanging of the Green is the kick off to the Christmas season at our church, LABC. It is a long standing tradition that I was a part of as a teenager and hopefully, someday my kids will get to be a part of. Yet again, one of the cool things about growing up in a church and continuing to serve and be a part of the same church as an adult is tradition and memories. I am proud to say that my roots are deep. We have a wonderful church home and I have worked hard to serve God here even when it was hard. I know that my kids are growing to love the Lord and that they see what it takes to be part of a church family. At least right now, my perseverance is paying off.
Landry invited 75 of his friends and family to his baptism and 50 came. Some who haven't been to church before, some who were looking for a church and some who we have been praying for. We took up the first 5 pews in a section that my friends roped off for us. (Perks)
I have to say, I am proud of him. Grinning from ear to ear, PROUD.
One down, one to go.
Well, they did it! The second grade Cougars are city champs and lovin it. The boys played a tough game and won the game. I hate to say this but I don't remember the score. It was too exciting. Landry is the on the second row, second kid from the left. We got trophies and, more importantly, spirit sticks.