Just Tie The Noose Around My Neck

The Schmitty household is a very "connected" household.

You can usually find one or more of us, at any given time, connected to the Internet, to an iPod, to a DSi, to a cell phone, and/or connected to an Xbox or a Wii.

Some might say we are technologically savvy. Others may say we need to disconnect.

I agree with them both.

So, periodically, I make my kids shut off the electronics and I, GOD FORBID, ask them to have some family time. I have even been known to coax Mr. Schmitty into putting down the remote once in a while. I then get him to engage in some good old fashioned games and activities.

Heh.

Around here we like to color a lot and just recently we assembled a 750 piece puzzle on the dining room table. Mr. Schmitty and I like games such as Rummikub and we are currently hooked on Bananagrams. On the weekends we will even crack open a bottle of wine with our friends and play *dirty word Bananagrams a few rounds.

*Okay, that was only once because the wine flowed a little too freely that night. And besides, the kids were out of earshot and it was funny as shit.

Anyway, a few days ago I was in my favorite store, Tar-Jay, and I came across some really cute notepads. One was the Dot to Dot Game, another was Tic Tac Toe, and the last was Hangman. They were perfect because each package contained three notepads; one for each of my offspring, which meant: There would be NO fighting over them.

Of course, I needed to write their names on the backer so we didn't go down the road of, "That's Mine!!" "NO, IT'S MINE!!" When the pad was empty.

Last night R. and I began playing Hangman. She's doing really well with her reading, but her spelling is not quite up to par, so I knew that I was pretty much going to be losing every game.

Ahhh, the sacrifices a mother will make.

During our last game she drew five dashes to represent the word she was thinking of. I began guessing and asked if there was an "S".

"NOPE! You've got a head!!" She shouted as she drew a circle on the pad.

"Um, T!"

"There are two T's! Good job mommy!"

I proceeded to call out vowels. "A!" "E!" "I!" "O!" "U!"

"No!" "No!" "No!" "No!" "No!" As she drew a body, two arms, and two legs. "You lose!" She announced triumphantly.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I said, "All words have a vowel in them. Are you sure?"

She looked at her dashes again and went into deep thought.

"Oh! Silly me!" She exclaimed as she erased the mark she had made on the letter "O". She then filled in the dashes and erased a leg.

"There! You won!"

Puzzled, I looked at her paper.



She went into hysterics and said, "Mom, Tooot! It's like a fart!"

Wanting Better For Her

I was a tomboy in my youth. I could take on almost any boy in the neighborhood. And I could whoop his butt.

That's what I envied about the boys. They'd have a disagreement, they'd tussle, and then they'd move on like nothing ever happened.

Not with girls. Girls can be mean. And those that are know how to drag a battle out and they usually bring in reinforcements.

Back then, I didn't know how to handle that. Hell, even now, I'm not so sure I could.

Unlike when I was around boys, if you placed me in a group of girls, I became a shy, much walked upon doormat. I was a total wuss because I wanted them to like me. I wanted nothing more than to feel included.

I usually wasn't.

Oh, I had my best friend. She was one of those girls that everyone loved. She was so full of personality that you couldn't help but be drawn to her. When I was with her, what others thought didn't matter.

But, unfortunately, she didn't go to my school. So, in school, I was on my own. In 7th grade I became part of a group. A group that made my life a living hell.

Well, let me correct that. They made my life a living hell approximately fifty percent of the time. The other fifty percent of the time, they persuaded me to make another "group member's" life a living hell. Those days were the only days I felt safe within the fold. Those days were the ones that the attention was off of me and on to someone else.

This poor girl, she was just like me, so in need of acceptance. I wonder if she felt the same way I did when it was her turn to be in their good graces. She and I, we took turns wreaking havoc on each other while the puppet masters stood by manipulating our strings, totally amused and entertained. I wonder if she felt as ashamed as I did that I allowed others to turn me a mean girl.

I wish I had been a stronger person. I wish I had stood up for myself. I wish I had stood up for her too.

I got into a lot of trouble that year. I did things I never would have done on my own. It was peer pressure at it's worst. And I succumbed to it so easily, merely because I wanted these girls to like me.

Lately, I have been seeing a bit of myself in my daughter. She is as tough as nails with us. She stands her ground and speaks her mind with her brothers. She is not a pushover to most.

But when I observe her with her closest of friends; I see a difference.

She too wants to feel included and accepted. She does not like when she feels left out or ignored and is devastated when her BFF is angry with her. She has a tendency to give in just to keep the peace.

I want more for my daughter. I don't want her to make the same mistakes I did just to feel like she belongs. I want her to feel strong and confident in her choices and decisions. I don't want her to feel that she needs to compromise herself to please others and I want her to know that a real friend will be there for her no matter what.

The little girl in me wants her to know that anyone would be lucky to have her as a friend.

She Can't Get Enough

Thud!

THUD!

THUD!!

That sound would be books hitting the hardwood floor in my daughter's room.

Every night, as I am saying goodnight to her, she collects a stack of books from her shelves. She climbs up into her bed and after I tuck her in, she proceeds to read each and every book in her pile. As she finishes, she tosses each one over the side of her bed, and onto the floor.

THUD!!

She has such a tremendous love for her stories. And at 6 years old, she has learned to read one year sooner than both of her brothers.

She does really well and I am quite impressed with her. As we say around here, reading is her thing, just don't ask her to do Math. But that story is for another day.

She reads in bed. She reads in the car. She reads in the loo. She reads walking up and down the aisles at the grocery store (that was fun and quite a sight). She even reads twirling around in the living room. Yes, that's right, she sometimes twirls as she reads aloud to whomever will listen. Being prone to motion sickness, I practically throw up watching her, so I choose to listen with my eyes closed.

As much as I love the fact that my daughter can't get enough of books, I am beginning to think she has an addiction. She may need a 12-step program.

The last night before school ended for the summer, she went up to bed at her normal 8:30 time. I kissed her on the nose and told her that her books needed to go away so she could get some sleep. She handed them to me, rolled over, and closed her eyes.

An hour later, she emerged from her bedroom and shouted down that she needed to use the bathroom. I told her okay and that I would be up when she was done to help her back to bed.

Quite a few minutes passed and she still did not come out of the bathroom. I went up to check on her and found her reading a book.

"Um, hi mommy. I really didn't have to go to the bathroom. I just wanted to finish this book."

I went into her bedroom and saw a half dozen books sprawled across her comforter. She had pulled over the curtain to let the last remaining rays of daylight in and when she could no longer see, she fibbed and said she had to pee.

It seems my little bookworm is hooked!!!

It's Been A Whole Month? Really?!

Oh Em Gee!

I can NOT believe that I have not written a post in a month! Actually I have written dozens, but only in my head.

I've thought up posts while in the shower, while on the way to drop the kids at school, and while walking up and down the grocery store aisles. I have even planned out a few while I tried to fall asleep at night.

I've just been so dang busy that I haven't been able to get those blurbs into my computer for your reading enjoyment.

Please, the few readers I may have left, I am so sorry. I know, I suck.

I have been gone so long that even my BlogHer ads were temporarily suspended. I'm surprised they even noticed I was gone. At least SOMEONE is reading my blog.

So, what has been keeping me from the Internets? I'll try to sum it up in bullets.

• I ran a cookbook fundraiser for T. and R.'s school. By.Myself. I collected recipes, typed them into the company's online software program, ordered, sold, and delivered. Did I mention? All.By.Myself!

• It is time for our annual PTA Installation Dinner and Chance Auction. Again, I designed and printed the invitations and am the chair for our Ad Journal. Apparently I was MIA last year at this time too. This fundraiser is a HUGE undertaking.

• The Schmitty's hosted Easter Dinner here....for 18 people.

• Hubs and I are trying to refinance our mortgage to a lower rate and drop it to a 20 year. The home equity we have is through another company. For whatever reason, they have been screwing us up. I can't understand what the problem is...we aren't taking more money, just dropping the rate. It won't affect them at all. Asshats.

• I am trying to get the outside and inside of my house ready for summer. I want to relax with my family this year and not worry about a thing! Heh. I crack myself up.

• The KIDS (i.e. birthday parties, school, birthday parties, playdates, birthday parties, girl scouts, MORE FREAKING BIRTHDAY PARTIES, etc.)

So, that's it in a nutshell.

It's been a tad hectic, to say the least. And even though I stated that the kids were part of my distraction from posting, I apparently have neglected them some, as well.

Case in point? I present to you, Exhibit A:


My daughter got into the blue food coloring while I was on the phone and tried to turn herself into a Smurf.

I Must Just Be A Poor Guesser

Mr. Schmitty and I don't get out much. Babysitters are hard to come by and money is tight. Like us, many of our friends and neighbors are in the same boat.

So, instead of everyone hanging out in front of their own televisions on a Saturday night, we've all decided to get together periodically for game night.

Our game of choice has been Pictionary.

As the children watch the adults make fools of themselves by displaying their victory dances in the faces of their opponents after a win. And as they witness the loud laughter and obnoxious taunting that takes place between the two teams, they begin to whine, "We want to play!!"

A few nights ago, I visited the local Toys R Us and purchased Pictionary Junior.

Hooray for mom!

Mr. Schmitty was scheduled to work an all-nighter. I was to be home alone with the kids all night. What a perfect time to break out the new board game.

As is customary, the teams were girls vs. the boys.

R. was doing pretty well with guessing my drawings. I was actually getting pretty lucky and getting mostly animals, which no matter how poorly drawn, were simple enough to figure out.

Next came my daughter's turn to draw. Now, mind you, she is only 6. She is just beginning to read, so many clues needed to be whispered in her ear by W., as I sat with my fingers in my ears yelling, "La la la la la!"

She grabbed her pencil and the timer was flipped.

She drew a big black circle and colored it in. Then she added a teeny head and some legs.

"A bug!" I yelled. She smiled and shook her head.

"A beetle!" "An ant!" She kept shaking her head.

"A Ladybug!!" Her smile grew and I threw my hand up to give her a high five.

"Time's up!" Shouted W. "Mom, that's not a ladybug, that's not even close to what she had to draw!"

I looked at him, quite puzzled.

"She had to draw a raisin!"
I looked at R. and asked, "Why did you put a head and legs on a raisin?"

"I drew a ladybug."

"But you HAD to draw a raisin."

"Well, I didn't want to, I wanted to draw a ladybug!"

After explaining that she needed to draw what the clue was, we continued.

A few rounds later, it was R.'s turn to draw again. The timer was flipped and she began. I looked down and saw this:


"A cloud!" "Smoke!" "Steam!" "Black!" "Gray!"

She just kept shaking her head.

"Time's up!"

"R. what was it?" I asked.

"A black widow spider!"

A raisin she gives a head and legs but a spider? Nah, THAT she decides doesn't need any.

Hey Mom, Back Me Up

I've had a horrible cough for what seems like forever. Actually, I think it's a second round of a cough. Allergies started it in October and once the cold weather set in, it began to go away.

Well, it's come back with a vengeance.

I've been hacking up a lung the past four nights in a row. The living room couch has become my home so I don't keep the entire family up with my barking.

I'm freaking exhausted.

This morning I MADE myself get into the shower, because seriously, I couldn't stand the stench anymore.

I told the kids that I'd only be about ten minutes and to please behave.

Pfffft.

Two minutes in and I could hear T. and R. arguing. Damn it, I wasn't even going to be able to shave my legs.

As the two of them shouted over each other through the bathroom door, I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair and hopped out of the tub.

Now, I would normally have just let them duke it out, but the lack of sleep and the fact that I forgot to take my happy pill this morning, just wouldn't allow me to tune out the ruckus.

I wrapped a towel around my body and flew open the door.

"Can't I even get a shower in peace?!"

They proceeded to spout he said/she said words at me. All I heard was "Wah, wah, wah."

"Enough! If you can't get along, just stay away from each other, please!"

T. turned and ran up the stairs. He was probably off to antagonize his brother.

R. stood and looked at me. I could see a lump in her cheek. She was rolling her tongue around on the inside of her mouth. This is something new she does, which immediately tells me that she is going to tell me she did something I would not approve of.

"Yes?" I asked.

"Um, mom, did you hear me call T. a bad word?"

"No, I didn't. But you aren't allowed to use bad words, are you?"

"No, but he was being mean."

"Well, it's not okay for you to call him bad words. What do you think I should do about this?"

Her sweet little face looked up at me and she said, "You should call him a bigger bad word."

Ahhhh, the mind of a six year old.

Taking an Artistic Risk

"Mommy! We made Dreidels today at school!" R. exclaimed.

"You did? Can I see it?" I asked.

She skipped over to the couch where she had thrown her backpack upon arriving home from school.

Smiling, obviously proud of her work, she skipped back to me. She was holding a card stock cutout in the shape of a Dreidel.

She turned her art toward me and said, "And Mommy, I even colored it red and green for Christmas!!"


Me thinks something was lost in translation.

Well, That Didn't Take Long!

I received R.'s first phone call home from the teacher. Already. Yup, I knew the day would come, I just didn't expect it to be so soon.

R., though very feisty, can also be quite the scaredy cat. She can be clingy with me when faced with a new situation or with new people. Once she sees that she is safe, she warms up quite quickly. But until the thaw has begun? She wants no part of anything.

A prime example was Kindergarten orientation. She cried. She clung. She refused to go to school. When the children lined up with their new teacher to be taken on a tour, she begged for me to go. I walked along with her to her classroom and stopped at the door. She went right in and that was that. She came back skipping and waving.

She continued going to school every day with a smile on her face. Then on Thursday, R. got the rug pulled out from underneath her tiny body.

The teacher's voicemail explained that a new student had joined their class and R. became extremely upset.

My brow furrowed.

Mrs. C. said that R. was crying and saying that she did not want this new student in their class. She wouldn't eat her snack. "She's quite the stubborn little thing!" The teacher went on to say.

"SEE?! No one believes me!" I thought to myself. That petite, sweet angel. Yea, until you piss her off!

Apparently, the teacher got a load of my darling daughter's willpower. She wouldn't stand to say the Pledge of Allegiance and glared at the teacher when she told her to get up. She didn't want to go to gym class. She didn't want to participate in circle time. She didn't want to budge from her chair.

She was petrified of this new child and how a monkey wrench was thrown into her now comfortable existence in Kindergarten.

When she came home from school we discussed what had happened. She is very perceptive and understood everything that we talked about. The conversation went very well and I was convinced that everything had been smoothed over.

The next morning she awoke happily, bounced down the stairs, and plopped on the couch. I told her she needed to get dressed for school.

"Oh, I'm not going to school today," she answered.

"Um, yes, you are," I replied.

"Will HE be there?"

"Of course."

"Then I'm not going. Someone was absent yesterday. So you can be absent. I am going to be absent today."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. I knew the next hour was going to be a nightmare but I also found it quite amusing that she had figured this all out. I dug my heels in and after a small battle we headed out the door to school.

I had written the teacher a note and told her that I would actually be in the school for about an hour that day for Library duty. If she needed me, I had my cell phone.

I must have checked that cell phone a few dozen times. No calls.

Upon picking her up, R. came out, with a huge grin on her face. I got a thumbs up from Mrs. C. and I stopped holding my breath.

R. pointed to a rather large boy in the line of children. "That's him mommy. He's nice."

I looked over and it became perfectly clear to me WHY R. had been so shaken up. This child was the size of a 2nd grader. He towered over R. and reminded me of a very young Moose from the Archie comics.

Maybe she can hire him as her bodyguard, that way she'll ALWAYS feel safe!

Why Do The Girls Always Get The Crappy End Of The Deal?

I was helping R. get ready for school the other day. She was tired and not very motivated. I grabbed her clothes and told her I would help her get dressed.

"Why are you getting me dressed?" She asked.

"Well, you seem to need a little help this morning."

She began to wiggle and be less than cooperative as I tried to put her dress over her head.

"C'mon R.! Mommy's getting too old for this!"

She giggled.

"That's funny?" I giggled back. "Will you let me come live with you when I'm really old?"

"Yes, mommy!!"

"You might have to help ME get dressed." I said.

"I will!"

Suddenly I heard T. shout from his bedroom, "Mom, you can come live with me!"

"Awwwww!" I thought to myself. My boy loves his mama!

"Really, T.? I can? You'll take care of me? Make me dinner? Take me to doctor's appointments? Help me find my teeth?"

He laughed and said, "YES!!"

"You'll even change my diaper?"

Silence.

"You know what? You can go live with R."

False Advertising

I keep reading about the health benefits of omega-3 essential fatty acids, DHA (docosahexaenoic acid) and EPA (eicosapentaenoic acid). In other words, fish.

These omega-3's found in fish and fish oils are being said to help the developing brains of children. There are also claims that they help in behavior issues, such as; ADHD and OCD. In adults, cold-water species of fish, such as salmon, halibut and tuna can help prevent neurodegenerative diseases. It's also great for the heart!

We don't eat a lot of fish. For one reason, right now, it's extremely expensive. The second? I'm not a huge lover of it and neither are my kids.

We enjoy the occasional flounder. We've even tried wild turbot. But frankly, that's about it.

But who doesn't want a smart kid? And I would definitely like a hand in the ADHD tendencies that my oldest exhibits. Also, I ain't getting any younger...so keeping the old ticker beating is really a priority for me.

Plus, I sometimes fall for the current hype or trend. Remember the fat free stage? Yea, my insulin resistance thanks me for all the extra sugar that one provided.

Anyway, while at the store the other day, I went down the vitamin aisle. I found a bottle of children's Gummy Fish packed with Omega-3's. In big, BOLD letters it announced, "NO FISHY TASTE!" and "KIDS WILL LOVE THE FRUIT FLAVORS!" I then found a similar bottle for nutritionally challenged adults.

I was excited. We'll get healthy one way or another, dammit!! And my kids will be geniuses to boot!

I sat at the dining room table with the kid's Gummy Multivitamins, that they love, and the new bottle of pure magic. I wanted them to take the fish pill first, in case they weren't as delicious as the multivitamin.

Curious, T. and R. flanked either side of me. I smiled and opened the bottle. I popped my thumb through the protective seal and......

OH MY LORD!! The smell from the bottle assaulted my sinuses as though I had been sucker punched in the nose. My head flew back with such force I thought I might need a neck brace.

I recovered as quickly as I could and smiled. "Here T., take this first and then the other!" He's like Mikey the Life Cereal kid. I knew I could use him as a guinea pig.

He popped it in his mouth and chewed. He made a bit of a face and said, "It tastes a little weird." But he seemed to shrug it off. "I'll take W.'s to him." He grabbed another and ran downstairs to his brother.

A few seconds later I heard, "EWWWWW!", feet running to the bathroom, and then, "PPPFTT!" as it was spit into the garbage can.

Shit.

I looked at R. She's not as trusting as her brothers. Or as gullible. Her eyes all but shouted, "NO WAY!"

"Here you go, honey, here is yours," I said enthusiastically.

The crocodile tears began. "NOOoOooooO!" She whined.

"Look baby, I have some too!!" I plucked up my bottled, held it away from my nose, and opened it. "Let's take ours together!"

"You first!" She countered.

I looked in the bottle, took one out and placed it in my mouth. I began to chew....HOLY MOTHER OF GOD!!! I started to chug my Diet Pepsi that was on the table. I gulped the putrid piece of nastiness down. The soda was not helping. The little sucker stuck in my throat and slowly made its way down into my stomach.

It tasted like ass. I would have rather have puked in my mouth than eat another.

I threw the bottles straight into the trash.

I looked at R. she looked quite pleased with herself. I'm thinking this chick really might not need any DHA. She's smart enough.

Rock-A-Bye Kitty

One of R.'s best friends, S., came to visit today. The girls play really, REALLY well together. They hold hands all the time and have so much fun. I overheard them in the playroom, as one suggested they play mommies. I peeked in to make sure they hadn't found my stash of wine find them, not rocking baby dolls, but our new kitten instead.

Izzy was all bundled up in the toy cradle and the girls were singing lullabies to her. Doesn't she look cozy? She is such a wonderful kitten. If you could only see what the poor thing had to endure today! She didn't seem to mind at all. Oddly enough, she seemed to enjoy it!


Oh, and I really needed to share this photo, as well. This is Mr. Schmitty's attempt at humor. Note that the cats in the cradle......yes, with a silver spoon.

I am officially married to a dork.

Don't Let Your Daughters Grow Up To Be Cheerleaders

R. has always been somewhat shy when you first meet her. She'll talk to you, as long as she is holding my hand or sitting in my lap. She needs that safety. And though she is funny as hell with those she knows well, she does not like to be the center of attention to those she is unfamiliar with.

Yesterday my neighbor and friend, J., called to say that she was signing up R.'s BFF, E., for cheerleading.

"They can be cheerleaders at 5?!" I asked in astonishment.

"Yea, can you believe it? E. wants to do it," she answered.

I thought how adorable the two girls would be together. But I knew R. would never follow through with it. "Nah, I'll pass. She'll never get in front of strangers like that. Good luck with E.!"

Later on that night the girls played outside together. R. ran up to me and said, "I want to be a cheerleader with E.!!!"

I asked her if she knew what a cheerleader was.

"Um, nooooooo," she answered.

"Well, a cheerleader wears a cute little outfit and claps and yells RAH! RAH! to football players at games. They do it in front of all the people watching the game."

"Oh. Nevermind, 'cause actually, I don't want to be a cheerleader."

I told her, "Maybe next year."

I secretly hoped she would want to do it, if only to bust my mother-in-law's chops. You see I was a cheerleader in 6th grade. I only stuck with it for one year because I really only tried out to prove a point.

I wanted to prove to everyone and myself that I could DO it. That I could actually, in a town full of cliques, make the team, on my own.

I had fun, but back then, I'd rather play baseball, soccer, and football with the boys.

But back to my mother-in-law.

I remember when my niece made the cheerleading squad. I can still see the look on my MIL's face when my sister-in-law told her the news. It was a look of total disgust.

She said to my SIL, "UGH. I can't believe you are letting her do that. She needs to stick with her school work."

My SIL looked at me and rolled her eyes. My MIL can sometimes be very opinionated even when she really has no idea what she is talking about.

She continued, "Don't roll your eyes, don't you KNOW what they grow up to be?"

"Ah, here we go," I thought to myself. She's going to throw out the "all cheerleaders are whores" innuendo. Not being able to take her irrational debate on the life of a cheerleader, I piped up, "Um, a wife to your son?"

For the first time since I had met her, she was speechless.

Score one for me. RAH! RAH!

My Sister's Got Cooties!

T. loves to give me kisses. And I, of course, LOVE to get them. He's got the most adorable lips, ones that are going to make some girl very happy some day.

Well, as long as I approve of her first, that is. heh.

I can get kisses from T. whenever I want. He's only six and not embarrassed by kissing his mom - YET. But, other than myself, he is very particular as to whom he shares kisses with. If he's not in a giving mood, he really needs to be coaxed. He's even snubbed his Grandmothers a time or two.

And if you are a female sibling of his; you might as well mooooove on.

I have a policy at home. After my children have had an argument, I like to see them hug one another and apologize. I try to emphasize that everyone has disagreements, but we are family and we still love and respect each other.

One such altercation took place not too long ago. After sending both fighters to their opposite corners for a time-out, I asked T. and R. to make peace. R. ran to her brother and threw her arms around him. T. gave her a quick pat on the back and looked completely repulsed.

Suddenly, R. jumped up on her tippy toes and tried to plant one on him. I thought, "OH NO! He's gonna freak!"

Without missing a beat, he turned his cheek, slipped past her and said, "Nope not happening!" He faced his sister, looked at her pointedly, and exclaimed, "Not in this lifetime, kid!"

Anatomy 101 Taught By A 5 Year Old

"Mommy, did you know that you have paper in your arm?" R. asked me the other day.

"Huh?" I responded.

"You have paper in your arm!" She repeated.

"Um, honey, I don't think so," I answered as delicately as I could, as R. can be quite stubborn bullheaded adamant about things.

"UH-HUH! Miss L. said so!" She countered. If she says Miss L., her Pre-K teacher, told her, then there was NO WAY I was going to convince her otherwise. But as she gets her tenacious traits from yours truly, I certainly couldn't let her think that there was actually paper inside a human's arm. Now could I?

Am because I'm so smart and knowledgeable, I needed to prove a five year old wrong. 'Cause I'm mature like that.

"I think maybe you misunderstood Miss L. because we do not have paper in our bodies. We--" R. cut me off in mid-sentence.

"No I didn't and YES WE DO!"

"We have bones and muscles in our arms," I continued.

"Oh, wait," she giggled, "Not paper, I meant tissue!"

That's Right Baby, Never Get Outnumbered

Mr. Schmitty took R. for a bicycle ride tonight. My munchkin, though 5 1/2 years old, can still fit into the child seat on the back of his mountain bike.

As they rode through the neighborhood on this gorgeous evening, R. conversed with her daddy. Actually, she flapped her gums the entire time. I truly do not know how that girl breathes, as there are hardly seconds that she is quiet.

"Daddy, when I grow up and have kids, I will give them the same names as the kids in our family." She informed him. "I will name them W. and T."

"Don't you want any girls?" He asked.

"Nope, just two boys."

"Only two kids?" He questioned, "Don't you want three like our family?"

"Nah, three kids is too much work."

Man, did she ever hit that one on the head!

Aloha, Mr. Hand....um...Mr. David

At 12:30 pm every weekday, I bring T. and R. to school. First I drop off T. in the lobby, where he lines up with his Kindergarten classmates. Then I exit the school and walk down the sidewalk to another entrance. R. and her Pre-K class line up there.

Yesterday was gorgeous and the children were running around, taking full advantage of the summer like day. The parents stood by and chatted. We each waited patiently for Miss L., the teacher, to relieve us of our parental duties for two and a half hours. Two and a half precious, PEACEFUL hours.

There was a young man standing next to the grandma of one of the students. I had never seen him before, but assumed he was with her. Then I heard her say, "She lines them up here." Then she asked me, "Do you know who the line leader is this week?"

I mouthed the words, "Is HE a substitute?" She smiled and rolled her eyes and then nodded. I think my eyes bugged out a bit.

Now, I have total faith in our school. I know they wouldn't hire a teacher that wasn't qualified. He just didn't LOOK like a teacher. His Chinos were wrinkled, his white dress shirt with the blue pin strips, that was untucked, was worse. I wondered if he had pulled them out of a heap on the floor, smelled them for cleanliness, and decided, "Good enough!"

He stood, a bit hunched over. I wanted to get him a chair because I thought he might fall asleep at any moment. Was he out with his buddies last night? Or did he get up at the crack of dawn to go surfing......Duuuuuuuuude?

Yes, that's what he reminded me of, a surfer. Blonde, messy hair; a blank look on his face. He held a black motorcycle helmet in his hand. Someone asked him if he had a motorcycle, not that the helmet was any clue. He seemed to perk up for a second and answered, "Yea! A Harley!"

Duuuuuuuude!

The grandma and some of the parents turned to me. I am the veteran of this group, as I've been through the school with W. already. My eyes grew big as if to say, "OH BOY!"

I thought. R. is NOT going to like this. She is always less than thrilled when there is a substitute. A MAN substitute was going to be that much harder for her to deal with. I said to her, "R. this is Mr. David, he is going to be here for Miss L. today."

blink blink

She looked like she might throw up or run for the hills. I couldn't blame her, as I was not sure Spicoli could handle the job either.

I walked over to her and placed my arms around her. Hoping she wouldn't hear the apprehension in my voice, I whispered, "Don't worry Miss C. will still be here today." Miss C. is the assistant who R. adores.

The kids lined up. The parents all moved closer to their kids, as though they might grab them and flee. Miss C. came off the school bus with the last of the kids from the class. She must have smelled the fear in the air.

She whispered to me, "Don't worry, I won't leave them." She glanced at Mr. David and then looked me in the eye, "Not for a second!"

Ahhhh.....Thank GAWD for Miss C.

Wanted: Information On A Great Boot Camp

It happened. ALREADY.

Yesterday, as I was in battle with my daughter, which is not an unusual event, she said IT. I couldn't believe my ears. I really didn't expect her to utter those words until she was at least 12 or 13. She is only 5.

The fight du jour was about proper attire. I told her that she could not wear her shorts and flip flops to school. She insisted that she wanted to. "It is raining and cold today," I informed her. She wasn't budging. I guess she gets her stubborn ways from her mother, because neither was I.

As we stood in the middle of her room, glaring at each other, I thought how hilarious the scene must look. This gorgeous, munchkin of a child, with the full attitude of a teenager, was trying to brow beat her mother.

I told her to get dressed, in the clothes that I had given her, and not to leave her room until she was ready for school. I turned to walk out and that's when my future flashed before my eyes.

With one hand on her hip and the other pointing to the doorway, she yelled, "GET.OUT.OF.MY.ROOM!"

I am seriously fucked in about 10 years.

There'll Be NO Centerfolds In Her Future!

Yesterday morning I spent most of my time on the telephone. I was putting the finishing touches on the Ad Journal for the Elementary School's Chance Auction. I was getting bombarded with phone calls for additions, corrections, and changes.

Before I knew it, it was less than an hour before T. and R. had to be to school. I still needed to give them baths and lunch. I also needed a shower for myself. I told them they were going to have to get into the tub together and that I was going to wash them up because we didn't have a lot of time.

Just then the phone rang....AGAIN. I directed the kids toward the downstairs bathroom and asked them to get undressed. I grabbed the phone and ran up to their bedrooms to pull together some of their school clothes.

I talked and piled items in my arms. When the call was done, I hung up and ran back downstairs. In my office, next to the bathroom, my two naked children were running wild. The had brought out R.'s easel from the playroom and they were dancing around it laughing their heads off.

I looked at the chalkboard and saw a drawing.

"Mom, I drew that picture of R." stated T., my young artist, who was beaming with pride.

"I'm neeekiiiid!" Exclaimed R.

"Had my son drawn his first nude portrait?" I laughed to myself.



The moment of cuteness, however, was cut short as R. proceeded to drop to the floor, lie on her side, throw her hands up behind her head, and inform me, "That's my sexy pose!"

I guess she wasn't going for nude model....but perhaps, Playboy Bunny?

Sorry, Hef, I'm locking her up until she's forty.

Do Think AFV Would Award Us Ten Grand For This Video?

No matter....I think it's hilarious and I die laughing EVERY time I watch it. Though I must say, a few thousand dollars would be spent in a few nano-seconds nice!

So, without further ado, this is what happens when my daughter, R., gets a hold of a hard to open plastic Easter Egg.

The Silent Scream

My daughter, who is usually a brute, has realized that there is another way to get attention other than punching, kicking, and pinching.

She has learned secret weapon #1 of a woman. Resort to crying when all else fails.

If her brothers are mean to her, she will now seek me out, to cry on my shoulder. I can hear the sobs from rooms away, the drama getting louder, the closer she gets. She should, quite frankly, be up for an Oscar this year.

She'll see me and the crocodile tears will be squeezed out of her big, beautiful eyes with more urgency. She'll squint and grit her teeth so hard, trying to squeak out every ounce of liquid she can.

I just want to burst out laughing.

Just the other day, I was once again a spectator to one of her performances.

"Mamaaaaaaaa, my boys are being mean to me!" She whined.

I picked her up and placed her on the kitchen counter, "Awwww, what did they do?" I asked, trying to look sympathetic as I bite my lower lip.

She grabbed me around the neck and hugged me. "They won't let me play Wii!"

Oh the nerve!

"Well, honey, they were playing first. I am sure they will give you a turn," I replied, as I pushed her hair off of her wet face. I gave her a kiss on the nose and she smiled.

Mr. Schmitty walked behind me and asked what happened. I turned slightly and began to fill him in on the current spectacle.

Then suddenly I felt it. It was an excruciating pain. It was like none I had ever felt before. I spun around and clung to Mr. Schmitty so I didn't fall to the floor in agony. My mouth was wide open but no sound was escaping. My eyes teared up and I didn't know whether to cry or laugh uncontrollably.

You see, as I was talking to my husband, R. decided to give me a purple nurple a titty twister pinch and turn my nipple on my right breast upside down.

It seems as though my daughter still needs to resort to violence if she doesn't have your undivided attention!