Out of the mouths of babes...

I was watching TV tonight with Noah. And he requested that I not mute the commercials because he really likes them, "except tax 'mercials-cause taxes are boring!" A-men, lil' brother!

Little Green Man

Lil' brother: I am glad Drew's not coming over to play with you!

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Big Bro (incensed): Why'd do you have to say that?!? What do you have against Drew?!?

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To de-escalate the situation, I quickly intercede.

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Mom: E-man, lil' brother likes Drew. He likes him a lot. It's just that he gets jealous of all the time & attention you spend on him, and he's just not old enough to explain his feelings to you. Do you understand him a little better now?

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Big Bro: Yeah, mom, that helps. (to lil brother) Which makes you just a little less of an alien than you were before.

A Letter to my Friend's Husband

My defense for rejecting my friends' husbands

as Facebook friends:

btw-hope _________explained why i didn't add you to my fb friends. r_________& I had a BIG fb fight so i deleted every man i could get my hands on (except the high school boyfriend) and he deleted every b*tch on his (except his slutty high school girlfriend). so right now it's a truce. but no more husband drama for me. and why would i want to read about some other woman's (adorable) jackass??? ...with all due repsect. and really, do you want to know about my period and that i cooked the best meatloaf of my life on thursday???? yeah-thought so. see you soon!

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sincerely,

d________

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btw-Mr B approved this posting-grudgingly, when pressed-after the fact.

Guest Blogger: Mr B

Feature Writer:

Mr B-all knowing dad and hubby extraordinaire:

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Ethan was telling me about a movie in the car today. I was half listening until he said, “….Ghetto Puerto Rican zombie midget.”

Father to Son

Mr B to Eman: "That trumpet is either in the case or on the back porch."

Collage

Amish Friendship Quilt

"Happiness is a choice."

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Country roads…..Absolut V…..F BOMBS…..

Belly laughs…..Bon Qui Qui…..DWB……Initiation…..

XXX Would You Rather…..Pot Virgins…..
Gay-Dar……"I did This Sh*t on Purpose!"...

The Barrel Roll...."Just 2 years ago!"....

Failed Interrogations…..Damn it!

Secret Braggin’ Rights…..Diet Pepsi…..

Sharp Objects....The Whip...
Vicks Vapor Rub and Socks…..“ONLY 3 Cigarettes…”
“Big, Beautiful Breasts”…..Church Picnic Table....Big Hair Picks…..

JW….and proud!!!…..Tarot Cards…..Palms…..Snores…..FaceBook…..

Coffee and Casserole.....Headaches and Head Colds......

Fritos...."FI-VE Vocab-U-lary Words!!!"...

Therapy....Inspiration....

ASSES EXTRAORDINAIRE!!!

Command Center

After a long day surrounded by a perpetual audience, I head straight to the bathroom for a moment of privacy. As soon as I settle in, I am bombarded by
boy questions/needs/demands that I field from my porcelain perch like an exhausted, seasoned three star general:

Why do I always have to get the mail?
Where's the umbrella?
Can you give me the car keys?
Where's Murphy's leash?
Why can't I walk the dog this time?
Can I have a peanut butter sandwich?
Where are the graham crackers?
Can I choose a different movie for my birthday?
Hey, Mom! ...Guess what???

And I just rest my weary head in my hands....

Good News/Bad News

...it's not the f'n trombone...

....it's the f'n trumpet...

....F BOMB!!!!!!!!!!

roomies

Had a great chat with my boarding school roomie tonight. She said she had a weird dream about me, and it went like this:

She came to visit me and I lived in a dump. And when I opened the door, I said, "Good-You're fat too." And that was it. No dream dictionary needed for this one.

And that chuckle was the best part of my day! How I'd love to time travel back to that room for another slumber party and revisit those teen years for just a moment...

Love you, Stacy! See you in March!

The Climb

This blog has become bor-ing lately. And I am sorry for that. Really. I know you come here for the occasionally chuckle or eye roll. But seriously-my brain is mush. If you hooked me up to a brain wave calibrator it would look like this:----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------cuz folks, I’m tired-worn out-no good. You would think that going back to school wouldn’t be so soul-sucking-draining; and non-teacher people really don’t get it. What’s so hard about it, they say? But fakin’ it for an audience of 148 is no easy feat while managing 12,846 pieces of paper, and making 24,897 critical decisions every 40 minutes. These people smell fear and disinterest the same way that a shark can detect a drop of blood in a 10 mile radius. There is no margin for error. No such thing as a do-over. The magic happens-or it doesn't. And if you’re gonna push them over that mountain-they gotta believe you will use that whip in your left hand-as you stroke them with the right. And I’m not sure that I can climb the mountain for the 17th time. My eyes are glazed over and the fight’s just gone outta me. So what happens when the sherpa is content to curl up under the avalanche and the summit isn’t even in sight? ...Dunno….just dunno... It’s Aug 26th and I’m buried under…

Almost There!!!

Dear Blither Blather’ers:

I want to remind you just how close you are to getting THE GRAND POOBAH BLOGGING PRIZE!!!

As of this moment there are 41 official-tried-and-true blither blather followers. Which is downright AMAZING!!! And as promised-once we reach The Grand PooBah number of 50 blither blather’ers, there will be a prize!!! And you will like it….And it will likely scar you for life… But no pain-no gain-right??? Oh, and one lucky reader will actually get a REAL package delivered to his/her front door from the Fed-Ex man… And that’s an official blither blather promise.

So send this link to someone you know and love (annoying people work just as well, too)-and round up the next 9 blither blather followers! Cause I'm ready to deliver.

Dream Dictionary

Here is the link for the dream dictionary that musegirl recommended. This is right up Mr B's alley. And since it came from the internet, it has to be true, right??? Check it out-fun stuff! I guess a cat dream really isn't just a cat dream!

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Quote: If a young woman dreams that she is holding a cat, or kitten, she will be influenced into some impropriety through the treachery of others...

Well!......Ohhh-la-la!!!

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http://www.dreams-dictionary.org/cats

Symbolic Tabby Dreams

I don't put a lot of stock in dreams. But my hubby-Mr B-who is of (crazy) Irish ancestry-puts great stock & emphasis in dreams. So much so that dreams are often a topic of intense conversation & speculation at family dinners. Mind you-I am usually rolling my eyes in open exasperation & disbelief. And now even my sons make it a point to tell me in vivid detail about their dreams-in spite of the fact that I am usually totally tuned out while they do so. But last night I had a dream. And in this dream I discovered a sweet, abandoned tabby kitten. And of course I had to take her home-and keep it a secret from Mr B-who is the voice of feline reason and has expressly forbidden kitty litter to enter his house. So today when I ended up in the pet section at Wal Mart (to escape my Latin stalker-see earlier posting) this tabby dream came hurtling back to my conscious awareness. Because what home is complete without a fat tabby in residence? And by the way- her tabby name was Elsa. So I'm predicting this tabby dream has meaning and symbolic importance. I just wonder what Mr B is gonna say about this dream at dinner tonight???

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Happy is the home with at least one cat"

Italian Proverb

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"Thou art the Great Cat, the avenger of the Gods, and the judge of words, and the president of the sovereign chiefs and the governor of the holy Circle; thou art indeed...the Great Cat."

Inscription on the Royal Tombs at Thebes

Purple Dress Alert!

The Purple Dress has done it again!!! I was hotly pursued through the women’s wear section of Wal-Mart by a young, buff, Latino stud on a SUNDAY MORNING! To my embarrassment, it took me some time to notice that I was being closely tailed-the deals and selection were that good. When I finally became uncomfortably aware of the smell of male cologne and his piercing, unblinking eye contact-I was like the proverbial deer in the headlights with an “Oh sh*t! expression frozen on my face. When he asked my name and I couldn’t answer-he actually moved in closer which almost caused me to squeeze the contents of my coffee cup all over him. I finally managed to blurt out, “ Uh…oh...hmm...no, really….thanks…sorry, but….gotta go…somewhere.” And I bolted to the dog food section. Then it hit me: The Purple Dress! The same purple dress that Noah lifted up over my arse in Shoe Carnival is the same purple dress that got Mr. B riled up on anniversary night is the same purple dress that caused a total stranger to stalk me in Wal-Mart under fluorescent lights (btw-no woman looks good in this kind of lighting). This whole purple dress affair has me completely discombobulated (how often do you get to pull that word out of the vocabulary drawer?) which caused me to spend more money than I intended and to forget ½ of my grocery list, which door I came through, and where I parked my vehicle. And as I write this, the ice cream is melting in the back of the mini-van, which has all the doors open as it sits in the driveway with the keys still in the ignition.

I am just……..totally……flummoxed……by that purple dress!

Warning!

Noah's self depiction artwork


It was bound to happen sooner rather than later-in spite of Noah's confession of "loving-I mean liking" Mrs W, his second grade teacher. On Thursday Mrs W made Noah move his behavior magnet. When I asked him to clarify the situation, he wearily sighed and said, "Hers was just being stubborn."
....Second grade has now officially begun.

Goldilocks

The best part of getting my hair done today was watching the little girl who had never had a hair cut before give away her thick, blonde hair (that reached to her bum) to Locks of Love. Her giddiness at giving away her treasure was sweet & touching & inspiring. Seeing the generosity of spirit in that child was a gift to me as well. She was a beautiful reminder of how giving away your "treasures" enriches us all.

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What a great day to be grateful for all life's blessings.

76 Trombones Led the Big Parade

So big kid wants to be in the middle school band with his pals. And he wants to play the drums, of course-just like all the other 847 sixth graders. Today he tells me the band director said he might have to play the trombone instead....and we will have to pay $30 (or more) a month for this privilege.

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The thoughts of having a freakin' trombone in my house makes me want to commit murder by trombone!!! Dear God, above...

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Do we really need to save the music in schools???

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Note: I think I freaked big kid out a little when I grabbed him by the arm and said, "You'd better explain to That Man that Your Mother wants you to play The Drums!" And then I wiped the spittle from my upper lip...

Possibilities

The fellas have gone camping for the weekend.

So the girl options are endless. I'm feeling so free & liberated that I am going to make a list of possibilities (since listing is one of my favorite hobbies-Mr B will be so glad that he did not have to read or complete this list with me):

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...I might read the book on my night stand that's been collecting dust
....or soak in the bath tub
....maybe color my roots
....and change my toenail polish while I process
...and listen to my IPOD...loudly
...or watch the Geisha Warrior movie from Netflicks (Mr B would appreciate this)
...or watch my tivo's of the Hotel Inspector (...very dry & British)
... or research haircuts on the internet for my 10 AM hair appt
... or go late night swimming
... and then plan my shopping stops for Saturday

... while ignoring the mounds of laundry

....and the dusty, sticky floors

...and the dirty dishes

...and piled up shoes and papers

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...and...just simply...BE...

Viva! Viagra!

Big kid keeps singing the Viva! Viagra! song.

So now it's the only song playing in my head

...and it is really getting on my nerves...

Stamp of Approval

I have a new shopping buddy.

As I was debating over which dress I liked more, the 6 year old runs his hands down the teal one and says, "Oooooo, dis one's gonna feel nice when I hug you!" And I bought it....without even looking at the price tag.

Random & Unrelated

Lil' brother confessed today that he "loves" his teacher...and then got embarrassed and changed it to "like." I'm happy with the first one.

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Big kid is really diggin' middle school. Now that he's an official cross country athlete, he's acquired this really cocky strut. And I can live with that.

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Mr B made tacos tonight. His presentation skills are a little lacking but the overall concept was acceptable.

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The 3 guys are camping this weekend, and I'm hitting up the Super Target!!!

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OK-so why am I watching the Miami Social finale tonight???

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Murph dropped his well-chewed tennis ball in my bubble bath tonight. Somebody needs his mamma...

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Haircut on Thursday with Liz at Urban Image. Yesssssssssssss!

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How totally cool would it be to be the Equilibrium Med Spa Blogger?!?!?

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All is good in this lil' corner of paradise...

S-O-S Equilibrium

Many of you have heard me brag (b*tch???) that at my house I have a special talent. I am the only person who bends at the waist. Yes, you read that right-bends at the waist. Apparently this critical little bit of DNA does not encode on the male of the species. Which means that dropped mail, food wrappers, used napkins, dog food, Legos, dirty socks, the lid to the toothpaste, and other unexplained paraphernalia magically disappear for the male members of my household once they hit floor. Yet I am the only one who has the bionic vision...gasp!... to notice said debris. Hence, it becomes my responsibility to bend over and pick up the clutter…naturally. I often tell my friends that when I am buried and gone, my sons will fondly remember their mother’s wide *ss bent over picking something up off the floor. I am resigned to this and am really only half complaining (of which you should be ever so grateful).

Well this past weekend, my back went out- or to use a southern euphemism, my back “took a spell.” Because you are smart blither blather’ers, I am not even going to describe for you the condition of my house with the official-bender-over out of commission. So now that I have managed to painfully roll myself out of the bed, I am lurching and listing like a drunken sailor with a peg leg taking stock of a sinking ship. And I am about as grouchy as a pirate captain of said sinking ship who discovers the rum barrel is dry. Somebody’s gonna be walkin’ the plank, matey!!!

In the meanwhile, I’m trolling the Equilibrium Med Spa homepage and checking out their info on massages. The last time I went for a EMS massage, I got a great ½ price deal. So add them to your favorites and register for their email updates. If you have flexible weekends, you can get great deals spur of the moment. And my fellow-bender-overs: it might save the life of someone you know and love!

http://www.equilibriummedspa.com/

"Why I Should be the Equilibrium Med Spa Blogger"

Seeking Equilibrium

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As curious kids will, my high school students begged me to tell them my age. With an arched brow and enigmatic smile, I answered, “Timeless and classic!” And then they laughed longer than was actually necessary.... Which meant I had to give them the bugged out evil eye and remind them that Botox coupons always make great teacher gifts at Christmas time. Which set off another round of guffaws. So it’s probably time to call in the experts and schedule an overhaul. It’s not that I want to completely erase the “I’m on to you” warning wrinkle in the middle of my forehead. It is my honestly earned badge of courage under fire. And for that matter, I may need to keep my laugh lines or risk losing my sense of humor for good. But okay-maybe a little buffing and polishing wouldn’t hurt either. Nurturing today's youth into tomorrow's leader leaves very little time for battling the ravages of time. So I’ve done my homework, and I’m hoping Equilibrium Med Spa will take me on as their new science experiment: a busy, frazzled, muti-tasking teacher/mom/wife who is juggler extraordinaire who's in need of a little beauty therapy. And I’m just hoping that Jane Austen’s right: “It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at twenty-nine than she was ten years before.”

I’m looking forward to keeping you posted on my Equilibrium experience!
Check out their link: http://www.equilibriummedspa.com/

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Maya Angelou’s Phenomenal Woman poem is a poignant reminder to all women what timeless, classic beauty is really about. May we all be inspired to embrace the beauty of our experiences. Enjoy…

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.

I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
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I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
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Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my breasts,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
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Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Potty Foul

I committed a potty foul today.

I illegally pottied before 12:05 PM-my first legal opportunity to pee without fear of a lawsuit. At 11:24 AM I premeditated the crime. I tossed the students an assignment to complete silently, peaked out the door, scurried past the cameras, and hustled to my destination, managing to evade the potty gestapo-this time. Give me a couple of weeks, and I'll be potty trained for an entire day. No wonder teachers mourn the passing of summer.

It's the only season that we can pee to our hearts' content.

Meeting

Ask a question-and you will die.

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One of my pet peeves is people who ask questions during large meetings. The main reason I am anti-question-asking at meetings is because I always prefer my own answer to the one that's being given. Why would you put a whip in the hands of a slave driver??? NOTHING good is gonna come from that question, except another policy that you’re gonna have to find a way around in the future. Just the thoughts of more legalistic policy creating puts a twitch in my spincter. Besides, if you need an answer-come to the real meeting-you know the one. The meeting after the meeting. That’s where the real decisions are made anyway. In back alley hallways and darkened classrooms by power brokers who actually have to live and die in the trenches with these so-called policies that are born from the random, dumb ass question.
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Asking a question in a group is just as bad as farting in public. Punishment should be death at dawn-the only reasonable & honorable option left. Besides-we all know that no one really gives a flip about your well asked question.
We just wanna go home.

Second Grade Report

After asking 6,287 questions about Noah's first day in 2nd grade, he managed to produce these 4 nuggets of information:

1. There is a kid in his class named Yu-gi-oh. And he was very serious about this.

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2. Jayden from kindergarten is in his class this year, and she lies a lot.

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3. Izzy from 1st grade is also in his class, and she pukes a lot just so she can go home. According to Noah, Mrs Max was "on to her" and wouldn't let her go home after she puked (said in a very self-satisfied manner).

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4. When it came to Noah's turn to tell the class something about himself, he decided to tell the story about how I (as a little girl) ran through a cow patty and slipped in wet, green cow poo-in graphic detail. I am listening to him with mouth gaping and eyebrows perched above my forehead. When asked what Mrs W's response to this story was, he reported that she said, "...Interesting." And we all know what that means... My advice to him was to tell his own story the next time and leave me out of it!

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Good Grief.

Shoe Shopping Part II

OK-so shoe shopping on tax free weekend AND the day before school starts is not smart. I know-I deserve what I get. Ya'll are tough customers. But honestly-it was brutal. Shoe Carnival should be renamed Shoe Riot. So we're jammed 4 deep in aisles with frazzled moms; helpless dads; bouncing, yammering kids; mad babies in monster strollers; confused, slow moving grandparents; and unenthused teenage employees. HELL-I tell you. And of course I cannot find size 7 running shoes for the 11 yr old. I am no longer looking for bargains at this point. I will pay any price for any pair of running shoes in a size that apparently is not stocked in this store. After 35 minutes of dodging, veering, yanking, glaring, and equal opportunity knocking the old & young out of my way, I am finally in possession of 2 possibilities. Please, dear God-have mercy on me. I manage to find a 1x1 bit of floor space to have big kid try on said shoes. And as I am bending over to help him (wearing my short, cute, purple tee dress), I feel two hands slide up over my bottom, lifting my dress, and gently caressing my mamma ass for all of the free world to see. Because this is the moment the 6 yr old decides to practice his romantic moves.

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Tax free-my ass!!!

Slumber Party

I have accepted a slumber party invitation for a group of nearly 40'ish gal pals. Although it's been awhile since I've pajama-partied, I'm no stranger to the morning after fall out of slumber parties. So let me remind you all of the inevitable slumber party possibilities. I'm encouraging all my gal-pals to call their parts early. We might even do double duty on a few of these:

Somebody's gonna:

....cry

...wanna go home

...throw up

...get mad

...talk nasty

...be mean

...tell something so shocking we'll never get over it

...be totally oblivious to all the above

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I'm calling mean-girl. And ..... is gonna be the victim. She is either gonna confess to ya'll about.... or she's running around the house 3 times naked in the dark by herself as we count laps. And I am not joking...

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Can't wait!!!

Only the Lonely

Here's what it's like being the only girl at my house.

*NONE of the three guys want to go shopping for back to school shoes.

I am MAKING them ALL go- inspite of their whining and pleas for mercy.

Now what girl/woman would pass on that opportunity???

...good grief...

The one thing children wear out faster than shoes is parents.”
John J. Plomp

9 to 5

So I pulled out the Dolly Parton CD for this week. It will be the only music CD I will play for the entire week as I again resume my teacher duties. I don’t care if you call yourself a Dolly fan or a country fan-or not-I defy you to resist the urge to tap your fingers, stomp your foot, tilt your head back as if howling at the moon, and pump your fist in the air as you & she wail out, “Working 9 to 5!…What a way to make a livin’ barely getting’ by!” I play this song on repeat at a blaring levels all over town: at the gas station, the electric company, on the way to the grocery store, through the drive thru, and the long way through the neighborhood. And yes, people stare. And I don’t care. Because Dolly is my TN home-girl and I’m loyal-maybe not fashionable-but loyal to the end. This working-woman-anthem feeds my weary soul. So take the Dolly challenge: Put her on your IPOD-and your inner working girl will thank you.

Take it away, Dolly!!!

Tumble outta bed
And I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
And yawn and stretch
And try to come to life
Jump in the shower
And the blood starts pumpin'
Out on the street
The traffic starts jumpin'
The folks like me on the job
from 9 to 5
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Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And they never give you credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it
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9 to 5, for service and devotion
You would think that I
Would deserve a fat promotion
Want to move ahead
But the boss won't seem to let me
I swear sometimes that man
is out to get me
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Workin' 9 to 5
What a way to make a livin'
Barely gettin' by
It's all takin' and no givin'
They just use your mind
And you never get the credit
It's enough to drive you crazy
If you let it

Ring! Ring!

In order to save some money in the monthly budget, I decided to cancel the service on my ancient cell phone. The amount of money I pay out each month for phone service turns me into a Raging AT&T Anti-Christ! I HATE paying for the right to “talk.” The old adage that talk ain’t cheap is the freakin’ truth! sheesh….
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So for practicality’s sake, I decided that I would “share” a phone with the 11 yr old. First came the battle over who had more “rights” to the phone. Okay-yes, it was a Christmas present. But I pay for that “Christmas present” every month. So it came down to a card game of UNO. Which he won. So he has 60% ownership-I have 40%. Whatever. The next argument commenced over the pictures that would appear on the screens. He refused to negotiate over the picture of the pancake in the shape of a cross on the front screen. But at least he conceded the wavering flame (which only reminded me of some past bad behaviors that I had no business resurrecting), and I got the floating coral. But the biggest argument of all came over the ring tones. What’s wrong with traditional, classic ringing from the good ol days? BORING-he says. The compromise? Random ring tones. Now when I race to grab the phone it jingles, jangles, blips, beeps, chirps, caws, cha-cha-chas, or techno sings, “cause I had a bad day!” Which totally frazzles my brain. And when I finally and frantically locate the phone-it’s another 11 yr old wanting to talk to the 11 year old.

A 40 yr old sharing a phone with an 11 yr old is a universe out of kilter...so maybe I'll just get a blackberry...
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Flash Back

I saw these shoes today & was reminded soooo much of high school. Did any of you own a pair of Tretorns during the 1980’s? These were a prep school standard. My favorite pair was the green-although the red was a close second. Seeing these shoes just hurtled me right back to 1987. I have so many great memories of high school. Boarding school was a lifesaver for me-for many personal reasons that I won’t go into here. There are two defining points in my life that altered the trajectory of my past, present, & future-and my four years at Stuart Hall remains one of the most powerful influences to this day. So I’m thinking about buying the pink Tretorns…and taking a walk down memory lane in them.

Since I’m feeling nostalgic for the past, here’s a snippet of the mournful Scottish lyrics of Robert Burn’s well-known & beloved poem/song “Auld Lang Syne.”
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Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
and old lang syne ?
CHORUS:
For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we'll take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall

The 6 yr old gets out of the shower and is admiring himself (au naturel) in the mirror. He is rubbing his round little tummy when I hear him proudly say to himself, "six pack abs-oh yeah."

And according to his definition-I have them too.

...Speechless...

This was the big event at supper tonight. I guess this is what happens when you don't want to eat your green beans.

Eman: "Hey mom, I have a tick on my penis."

Mom: "Well, go to the bathroom and take care of it!"

Eman: (upon re-entering polite society) "You know what would be a good story, Mom? The Penis and the Tick. Kinda like The Princess and the Pea...but instead it would just be The Penis and the Tick.

Mom:....and I couldn't think of a single thing to say. And I DID NOT make this up.

House Keeping Announcements:

hey, blither blather'ers!
if you have a blog, send me your link so i can post your site to my blither blather blog list! i'd love to advertise your site for you-and add you to my daily reading favorites. read my bandwagon blog entry from july...c'mon ya'll!!! blog away with me!!!
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50 is the magic number! once we reach this many official followers-you're gonna get a blither blather prize that will go down in infamy!!! so send this link to your embittered, frazzled, barely-hangin' on gal-pals. blither blather bitchin' is just good for the soul!
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i love your blither blather comments-especially since your comments are now being published on the front page! i depend on you to keep batting around the blither blather b.s.!

Gunpowder and Lead

Eman wanted to hear song #6 on the Kid Rock album.

Me: "No-#6 has bad words in it."

Eman: "What about that song you play all the time? The one with the girl with a shotgun who kills her boyfriend and smokes a cigarette? We have to listen to that one really loud all the time."

Me:...blink.........blink, blink..........hmmph!!!

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$.99 Music Therapy for your IPod

Gunpowder & Lead by Miranda Lambert

I'm goin' home, gonna load my shotgun

Wait by the door and light a cigarette

If he wants a fight well now he's got one

And he ain't seen me crazy yet...

...show him what little girls are made of

...Gunpowder and lead...yeah, yeah!

Love Letter

Dear Summer,
I know you have to go. But I don’t have to like it. You’ve been easy, simple, lovely, and uncomplicated. I am my better self with you. Our paths will cross again some fine day. And I will be waiting for you with outstretched arms. Until then, know that I yearn for you with every fiber of my being.

Yours Forever,
Heartbroken

Lessons Learned

So I’m starting my 17th year of teaching this Aug.

And here are a few things I believe:

All kids want to be liked. Until they feel liked-they can’t learn a thing.

Kids come to school to be with their friends. If I’m good at what I do, I might be a close 2nd. And I can live with that.

Kids really do like learning cool, new stuff. Doing all the tedious work? That’s not for everybody. And I get that-really.

Kids will work for a tough teacher who is consistent, fair, and just.

Kids are excellent judges of character. You may fool their parents-but never them. So be transparent. They can respect that.

Sarcasm doesn’t belong in the classroom. Wit, verbal irony, and dramatic monologues-absolutely!

There are no bells or whistles that can replace your passion for what you teach.

Laugh at them; laugh at yourself. Because the journey is gonna be long & difficult.

Say you’re sorry-or wrong-publicly, clearly, sincerely, directly.

Everybody screws up BIG sometime. And everybody deserves one free do-over. Because redemption makes us all better people.

News Flash

I make "de best basagna ev-er!" Noah says so. Thought you should know.

Character Flaw

I don’t smoke crack-yet.
I don’t dance naked for money on a pole-yet.
I don’t drink Bloody Mary’s for breakfast-yet.
I don’t buy lotto tickets instead of groceries-yet.
I don’t sell Louis Vuitton from the back of my mini van-yet.
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But I will throw an F-BOMB at the slightest provocation.
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So there it is. And I’m not making any promises bout that other stuff…
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Landscaping Trials

Do you see the line of pink begonias in my front bed? Well Mr B & I had a pink begonia argument in the front yard recently. We only fight in the front yard when the neighbors are out-so yes, they heard it all and tried to pretend that they didn't. And it did involve raised voices, a door slam, a tossed shovel, and pissy attitudes for the rest of the day, just in case you're wondering.

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So this morning, Mr B rustles me outside and walks me down the line of pink begonias (like a drill sgt) and says," I'm not trying to start a fight or anything, but I got yelled at for this one (stabbing pointer finger in direction of pink begonias), and for this one, not this one (the puny one), and this one! So who was right?!?"

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And for the record, Mr B is the winner of the pink begonia skirmish...every dog deserves his day. So stay tuned for fall when the mum wars resume.

In Your Eye, Oprah!!!

The bagger at Kroger's made a mistake. He tossed someone else's Secret deodorant in R's grocery bag. So when he came home & discovered it, it was kinda like winning a door prize-(of course SOMEONE'S pissed on the other side of that equation). So I decided to give the Coco Butter Kiss scented deodorant a whirl. And to my immense surprise & joy-my armpits smelled like coconuts!!! How can you NOT have a happy day when your pits smell like nuts?!?!? I'm telling you-go out and buy it TODAY. We will all be off the anti-depressants by the end of the week just by changing our deodorant. And then Oprah will beg us to come on her show!

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Oh-and the Pantene Smoothing Creme-is taming the frizzies this summer. Love It!!! Only $5.96 at your fav discount store.

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So take that, Oprah!!! Who needs corporate sponsorship anyway???

Regrets

I am the only coffee drinker at my house. And this is a point of great sadness for me. I have begged & bribed the 6 & 11 yr old to become coffee drinkers with me. Guilt & threats haven't worked too well. The money did-but after the first sip they were gagging, choking, wiping their tongues on their shirts, clutching their throats, and falling over each other. The drama was just too much to bear up under. So I'm drinking alone as usual-and nobody seems to care. So I'm going to tell them that NOT drinking coffee stunts their growth-because it's the last tool in the box.

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On another note: hope you like the changes to my blog site. Change is energizing! Like a new haircut or purse or lipgloss or a coat of fresh paint (all of my favorite things). Thanks to all of you who have posted comments! They really make my day-and will now show up on the home page for other visitors to read-exciting!

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BTW-the blither blather readership has grown! When we reach 50 blither blather readers there's gonna be a prize. And you're gonna like it. And I ain't playin' either.

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Hope your Sunday is simply glorious.

Little Oedipus

A man who has been the indisputable

favorite of his mother

keeps for life the feeling of a conqueror.

Sigmund Freud

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We now know that Freud was a freak. All that psycho-sexual personality theory is quite, well-titillating & a whole lot disturbing. Labeling friends, family, and acquaintances as orally fixated or anally retentive really makes for great party fodder. And certainly every sophomore worth his salt is familiar with the Myth of Oedipus (aka-Freud’s Oedipal Complex). You know-the son who was fated to murder his father & marry his mother? Yeah, that’s the one. Who wouldn’t want to know how that story turns out???

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But I’m beginning to have my doubts about Freud’s doubters. After spending the summer with my 6 yr old, maybe Freud was on to something. For instance, while R is at work, Noah insists on eating his meals in the “daddy chair”-not his own little chair of lowly stature in the power-dinner circle. Now if that isn’t a case of the cub pushing the lion out of the pride-then what is??? Getting tucked in at night? Only mom will do for this intimate tete-a tete-dad has been ousted to the cold, lonely bench. While washing dishes, & minding my business I might add, I suddenly feel little wandering paws caressing my backside followed by snake arms hugging my middle and pulling me in for a tight hug. And the other day when we were playing in the pool, he says to me, “Mom, let’s just float into the sunset.” And as I look into those big, romantic, brown eyes, I just thank the Lord for Freud & little boys.