Me, me, me!

I'm 30. After wishing away a lot of my 20's hoping to better myself, and change many of my peculiar, annoying, or just silly habits, I've discovered there are simply some things about me that will never change. So I have for you...a LIST!

1. I cannot load dirty, unrinsed dishes into a dishwasher. I rinse them obsessively first.

2. I refuse to iron. Never, never, never going to happen. Febreeze + dryer = Who needs an IRON?

3. I cannot learn to love black coffee, peppers, or seafood. And I don't have to.

4. I will always leave my shoes on the floor where people, including myself, must trip over them a jillion times a day. Sorry hubby. Never going to change.

5. I do not ever want to own a dog. They are noisy, they lick you, and they are as much work as children. Although husband may overrule me on this one in a year or two.

6. I will always resort to a ponytail / knot, no matter how cute / expensive the haircut.

7. I dust, at a maximum, six times a year. Donna, I know that is killing you. Forgive me.

8. My Christmas tree ornaments will never be match-y and coordinating, a-la-Martha Stewart. But they are all meaningful, and that is what matters.

9. I love the 'store-brand' products at Walmart. I do not understand the idea of clipping coupons for the more expensive stuff. The only exceptions to my 'store-brand' rule: Jif peanut butter, Crest toothpaste, and Heinz ketchup.

10. No, I WON'T calm down. Over-reacting and over-dramatizing is WHO I AM.

11. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will never again have bladder control when I cough. Or sneeze. Or laugh really hard. Thanks, kids.

The love. It leaves me speechless.

What? Cat puke.

Where? On my JUST MOPPED kitchen floor.

Children's Response? Hover over the mess and stare at cat puke with mix of fascination, horror, and disgust.

Mom's Response? Mutters swear words, goes out to garage to get the mop. Again.

What Mom overhears Garrett whisper while she's getting the mop? Eat it Laura...EAT IT!

He WILL grow up to protect her someday, right?

Darn it, I was THISCLOSE to a prescription for bedrest

Medical update for those who are interested: After round one of antibiotics cleared up my sinuses by moving the illness along to my lungs, I went back to the doctor on Friday. Two hours, 1 chest x-ray, and $200 later (my insurance SUCKS), I left with a diagnosis of a severe case of bronchitis and pleuritis in my left lung, and prescriptions for a new antibiotic, prednisone, and an inhaler.

I'm fine, just coughing a lot. The bizarre concoction of medications (along with all the stuff I take every day anyway) seems to be slowly helping, but has left me with major heartburn, a need to pee every 30 minutes, and a disastrous case of insomnia last night (Lost a Sock, I caught up on your blog at about 3:00 am last night, so if my comments do not make any sense, you'll know why).

My dearest, most wonderful husband took the children to his parents all day today, so I have been able to rest, relax, and drift in and out of sleep. And also, to do this:

I feel so pretty! But I cannot type with these dragon claws on. Nor can I unbutton my own pants, open a can of soda, or fix my own hair. I think I am beginning to remember why I left the acrylic nails behind when I became a mother.

I'm betting I'll have popped them all off by Monday, so you can have a longer, more insightful post to read. Right now, I'm misspelling every other word because of The Nails, so this is way too much work for a sick girl. Off to more napping!

Proof that you can't stay pregnant forever (That means YOU, Mrs. S)

*cough*

*bark*

*wheeze*

*sniff sniff sniff*

Okay, you get the idea. I am still feeling miserable. Too miserable even for good blogging. So miserable, in fact, that I'll probably go back to the doctor tomorrow to make sure that I am not in the throes of death. Because I am over-dramatic like that.

Anyway, in lieu of having to actually think, and proofread, and write, I thought, "Hey! I'll just add pictures to G's fourth birthday post from last month! Everybody likes pictures!"

Yes. Well. That was a lovely idea, but there's that little issue of, you know, Blogger is an ASS. So it will not let me insert the photos into the actual birthday post. But it WILL let me put the pictures in a NEW post. So here are the photos, totally out of context. But I will caption for you.

June 2002 - six months pregnant and headed to the lake (where pregnant women can enjoy the bliss of being weightless)

August 2002 - almost 8 months pregnant. Hubby and I had professional belly shots done, and to this day, this is my favorite photo of us together. We look peaceful and loving because we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.

Um, some excessive swelling. Painful swelling. I could not even bend my toes. I kept slippers at school because they were the only shoes that fit.

This is Garrett (Yes! I said his name!) at one month of age. Before he was born, I bought two matching Gymboree outfits, one for a boy and one for a girl. I never returned the girl outfit, and nineteen months later I got to put it on my baby girl, Laura (I know! Another name!)

Mommy, 26 years old, and G, 5 months old.

Daddy, age 28, and G, age 20 months.

My little buddy, almost four years old.

You can go back to my September archives to the post titled "Four." if you are so inclined. That's where these pics should have gone!

Blah.

I should probably just skip blogging today, for I have no energy to be witty, thoughtful, or entertaining. The lack of energy stems from a plethora (I like that word) of things:

1. My nose, which is stuffy AND runny at the same time. Yay.

2. The sinus headache that is actually causing my teeth to hurt.

3. The massive amounts of medication in my system...anti-anxiety meds, Zyrtec, antibiotics, ibuprofen, decongestant tablets, and for dessert, cough syrup with codeine. Hooray for codeine! But only at bedtime...do not worry about my children.

4. The laundry and dishes that are somehow multiplying like rabbits. I seriously do not know where they are all coming from. Leprechauns, perhaps?

5. I need chocolate and sugar. There is none to be found in this house. My happy brain chemicals...they are at rock bottom.

6. The constant ads for the Jim Talent / Claire McCaskill Senate race. I am tired of looking at both of the candidates' trash talking ads. I made my decision a long time ago, and these last ditch efforts are just pissing me off. You wonder why so many people don't want to go vote. I am also sick to death of the pre-recorded messages on my answering machine, and e-mails from well-meaning friends telling me how the world will go to hell if I vote for Missouri's Amendment 2. I've done my research. Leave me ALONE.

7. My son and daughter need to be sent to boot camp. It's truly out of control around here. G peed on L today. On purpose. I wish I was kidding.

Because everybody knows sugar can KILL you

So first, I hear from my teacher friends all about Missouri's new School Wellness policy. I am all for kids wellness. More P.E.! More recess! Get rid of the pop machines! Fine, whatever! But then I heard the rest of the policy...no more "sugary snacks" can be given to students as a snack, party treat, or rewards.

Now let me just tell you. I taught young children for almost eight years, and by 2:30, I was ready for a damn cookie. And bring on the chocolate milk, by gosh.

And while I did not spend my ENTIRE day doling out sugar filled crap, I swear I could make kindergarten children do amazing tricks with the promise of three Skittles. I am actually quite unsure of my teaching and disciplining abilities without the aid of Skittles as a bribe.

Field trips? Bubblegum (sugar free, of course) makes for an amazingly quiet bus ride home.

And school parties - HELLO! What is a school Halloween (oops, I mean Fall), Christmas (whoops, there I go again - I mean Holiday), or Valentine's (I think that one is still P.C.) party without some cupcakes, chips, and candy? Come on. Parties only happen three times a year.

Isn't it odd that BEFORE these bans on All Things The Government Decides Is Bad For You (because I KNOW that this "Wellness Policy" SOMEHOW ties into "No Child Left Behind"), that we all grew up eating candy and cupcakes at school now and then, and there were very few problems with overweight children? And NOW, with all the bans, there are an ABUNDANCE of overweight children? How EVER did we survive our childhoods? Wait - I KNOW! I think our parents made us GO PLAY OUTSIDE.

But thank YOU, Missouri PTA, for taking it upon yourself to suck all the sweetness out of going to school. Because I'm sure those cupcakes three times a year are totally the culprit of our children's lazy, unhealthy habits.

Hmm. I got a little off topic there.

So today, I got the icing on the cake, in a manner of speaking. I had to go to the doctor (sinus infection, cough, the usual...I feel like hell), and when it was time to go, my children instinctively asked for a sucker (like they do at the bank, the pharmacy, and the hair salon). They were told, "We don't have suckers anymore. But here's a nice sticker!"

What?!? Screw the damn sticker! Where's the Saf-T-Pops? The nurse informed me that the Office Manager had decided that "giving kids candy was promoting poor dental health habits."

Gosh. I guess it's a good thing I didn't tell her about the pancakes and syrup for breakfast, the cookies for snack, and the heaping bowls of sugar I gave G and L to snack on in the car. A Dum-Dum might have sent us all over the SUGARY EDGE OF DEATH AND DENTAL DECAY.

No more freaking suckers at the doctor's office. That is PRECISELY what is wrong with the world today.

Kids-2, Mom-0

FREE TO GOOD HOME:

Two children, ages two and four.

Male shows great talent for drawing, female appreciates fine food.

Be aware that these children do not respond to spankings, time outs, yelling, whispering, ear yanking, 1-2-3 Magic, Love and Logic, or lectures.

Serious inquiries only. Call 800-MY-KIDS-HAVE-WON.

The one where you decide I've lost my mind

I sometimes have these weird urges come over me. I do not usually act on them, because I know they are totally irrational.

For instance, I sometimes feel the urge to swerve the car dangerously while I am driving. Of course I'd NEVER do that, but I wonder WHERE that thought even comes from.

Every now and then, I get so worked up/wound up/stressed out, I just want to SCREAM as loud as I can, especially in public. Again, I'd never actually do it, but the urge is sometimes hard to repress.

A few days ago, I made breakfast for supper, including my famous Orange Juice Slushy. Now, this incident MAY have had something to do with the fact that I'd replaced some of the water in the recipe with an adult "beverage", but I had an urge and I did not, COULD NOT, stop myself...

...The Orange Juice Slushy had been sitting for a little while and had separated. I needed a refill. The lid was not on the blender. I knew better. I did. But, my thought process was, "It only needs a quick little whirl..."

And I pushed the button.

And I ended up with Orange Julius all over myself, the cabinets, the floor, the counter, and quite possibly the ceiling.

I wiped it all up as fast as I could and pretended nothing out of the ordinary had happened between me and the blender.

I am weird.

Stacey's Orange Juice Slushy:

6 oz. frozen orange juice concentrate

10-15 ice cubes

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup milk

1 cup water OR 1/2 cup water, 1/2 cup rum (or vodka, or Malibu...take your pick)

Blend it all up. With the top ON.

Because I FEEL like it. GAH.

What the hell is this, you wonder? So glad you asked! This, my friends, is the Sippy Cup That Has Been On The Floor For Almost Twenty-Four Hours.

Why do you not just pick up the cup, you wonder? I'll tell you. I DON'T KNOW.

This cup, it lays right in the most highly traveled path in the house, the path from living room to kitchen.

I've stepped over it about sixty-eight times today. I've tripped on it, I've stumbled over it, the cat has sniffed it, the children have jumped over it, my husband has begun to wonder why he agreed to let me stay at home in the first place.

And yet no one has picked up the damn cup.

The longer it is there, the more it annoys me. My hand WANTS to pick up the cup, but some weird compulsion WILL NOT LET ME.

I admit that I am not above doing things out of spite. For instance:

Tailgate me while driving? I will as slow as I possibly can without the car dying, and maybe make rude hand gestures at you.

Tell me I am getting "fluffy"? I will go eat a pint of ice cream in your honor. And many Doritoes. And cookies.

Give me the (unpaid) position of Keeper Of The Home And Children? I will scrub the toilets, wash the dishes, and catch up on the laundry, but I will leave ONE FREAKING SIPPY CUP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE FLOOR ALL DAMN DAY LONG. Because I can.

My own little stay-at-home-mom-soap-opera. Will the two year old get thirsty enough to drink the old juice in the cup? Will the four year old show compassion and put it in the sink? Will the mother trip on the cup and break her ankle?

I refuse to let The Cup kick my ass.

No...NO. I will SHOW that cup just WHO is the BOSS around here.

If you wanted to go all Dr. Phil on me, you might say that my refusal to pick up the cup stems from my building frustration with my two toddlers, the fact that my schedule these days is dictated by everyone but myself, and my growing boredom with the tedium of cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning. You might say that all of the things I'm stressed about, tired of, and frustrated with are manifested in The Cup.

Or, you might just say that I am tired and need to sleep instead of blathering on about a sippy cup.

Either way, you just might be right.

Grrr. Look at it, just DARING me to pick it up.

I guess you really do learn something new everyday

Things I've learned recently:

1. Husbands do not understand the indescribable value of getting two, TWO purses for $11. Yes, I was told, "Do NOT spend any more money this week. We are broke." But E.L.E.V.E.N. dollars. For TWO purses. And my happiness. Can you PUT a price on that?

2. An entire bottle of Mr. Bubble does not make NEARLY as many bubbles as one thinks it would when flushed down a toilet. G and L were responsible, but I admit I was a little disappointed with the results. While I never had the balls to actually try that as a child...my children? They do.

3. Calamine lotion is REALLY hard to clean out of a medicine dropper.

4. "Baby-Proof" does NOT equal "Toddler-Proof".

5. Ceiling fans can take quite a beating and not fall down.

6. Given enough sugar and coffee, I can pull an oversized, solid wood toy chest up two flights of stairs all by myself.

7. Soap operas can totally make you a more well-rounded person. I've picked up quite a bit of sign language from watching the "Devon-is-deaf-because-of-a-bout-of-meningitis" storyline on Young and the Restless.

8. Blue Poptart filling can be removed from the carpet. Cat puke stains and hair dye cannot.

9. According to a four year old, hairspray can definitely double as air freshener. Now excuse me while I unstick myself from the carpet.

10. Gray, rainy days are no longer for curling up with coffee and a book (or many recorded television shows, in my case). Rainy day + two small children = I better invest in some rain boots and heavy coats, STAT.

Fat Friday #10

I've been a slacker on Fat Fridays. But the truth is, I'm STILL FAT, and it's just too depressing to write about every week. Writing about my food issues hasn't been the motivator I was hoping it would be.

CPA mom asked about the details of my "retail therapy" yesterday. And as soothing as it was to spend money that I shouldn't have been spending, and as much as I like the things I bought, the items I was shopping for were really no fun to shop for. Honestly, it was a really crappy reason to have to shop...fat clothes. My third round of fat clothes, to be exact.

Every fall I shop for some new clothes, and for three years running, they've been a bigger size. And every fall, my husband and I say, "We'll just buy a few things to get us through until we lose this weight." Um, yeah. Right.

I have ingredients for a "soup diet" sitting in my fridge, but I continue to choose hanging out with my orange Halloween Oreos over actually making the soup.

I bought healthy packets of oatmeal and hard boiled some eggs so I'd have healthy breakfast choices, but four cups of coffee with extra big splashes of Vanilla Chai Spice creamer has been my morning meal for three days in a row now.

I set my alarm for 6 a.m. every day last week, intending to get up before my kids and get on that treadmill. I slept through the alarm every.single.day. and never made it to the treadmill.

I stuck a list on my refrigerator of how if I lost just 1 and 1/2 pounds a week from now until June, I'd be at my goal weight by summer. I look at the list every time I go rummaging for another snack.

Fat. Fat. Fat. Hate it. Hate it. Hate it.

I need a break!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I am too freaking tired to think of anything clever or witty to blog about today.

My head is pounding, the house is wrecked, the laundry is backed up, my Thursday Shows are on tonight and I still haven't caught up from the shows LAST week, and I indulged in some retail therapy this afternoon, which my husband is not going to be very pleased about.

So instead of witty and clever, I give you this:

And then while I took her pants off to clean up the mess, she used my face for leverage and smeared Oreo into my right eye.

Oh, and when I put the kids to bed early and thought my hellish day was over? I sat down to enjoy some "Survivor" and landed on a wet, black, chewed up glob of Oreo on my couch. You know, just for good measure and all.

Now. Who's up for some babysitting???

This CANNOT be right...can it?

After I graduated college, I was hired in May as a kindergarten teacher and was due to start teaching in August. That left me three months to plan, worry, and obsess to my heart's content. And so I did.

I shopped, bought, colored, cut, laminated, planned, studied, ordered, packed, unpacked, decorated, and arranged. Obsessively. And then, school started. I had my own little class of twenty-one children calling ME teacher.

I managed to muddle through the first few horrendous weeks, and then finally started getting into my teaching groove. I learned more in those first DAYS of teaching than I had learned in four and half years of college classes.

I learned that when someone throws up on their worksheet, it definitely calls for extra recess.

I learned that when the breezeway that connects your classroom to the rest of the building floods, you just swing the children up and over the water and shut the door.

I learned that when someone brings a hedgehog for show and tell, you may as well scrap your plans for the rest of the day and dig out the "H" encyclopedia.

In other words, I quickly realized that "teaching" was SOOOO much more than TEACHING. It was learning to deal with unexpected events gracefully, on less than a moments notice.

I felt more confident in my abilities as the days went by, but I still wasn't absolutely sure that I was "doing it right". By the end of that year, most of my students learned to read, count to one hundred, get along with their classmates, and could write their letters beautifully. But that nagging feeling of not "doing it right" still stuck with me for several years of teaching.

And now I am not teaching, but am in a new profession: Stay at home mom. I've been home full time five months now, and I still wonder on a lot of days if I'm "doing it right."

I had nine months to prepare for motherhood, and man, did I think I was prepared! I read all the books, bought all the supplies, took the classes, and did lots of thinking about what kind of mom I wanted to be.

But then the actual CHILD arrived and shot it all to hell. And just when I thought I was starting to get the hang of this mom thing, I went and had ANOTHER baby. So then my doubts and fears about being a good enough mom DOUBLED in strength.

Somehow, I've muddled through over four years of motherhood. I've mothered on no sleep, I've mothered while working full time and part time. I've mothered through depression and anxiety, I've been a mad mom, a frustrated mom, and a happy mom. I've been Ma, Mama, and Mommy.

But I still don't think I've figured it out.

Do I play with them enough? Read enough books? Is it okay to give them crayons and paper so they'll be still long enough for me to fold the laundry? Should G be reading by now? Is it time to give L scissors yet? Is it normal for my children to be beating the crap out of each other approximately every six minutes? Is it horrible that I actually start feeling nauseated when G is on his 329th "WHY?" of the day?

Just like with teaching, I could have planned for motherhood for years and still not been ready for the unexpected daily challenges, such as:

-toy horses covered in chapstick

-trails of poop on the carpet

-running out of bread because my children have used it all playing "communion"

-finding pretend baby bottles in the fridge, and sippy cups full of milk in the sandbox

-projectile vomit on my lap at midnight

-finding my children with orange mustaches, next to an open bottle of Triaminic

-Yo-Go's up noses and green beans in ears

-snorting diet coke out my nose when I hear my daughter, after five minutes of torment from her brother, say to him, "You wanna PIECE of ME???"

-falling over the cat, tripping on toys in my kitchen, stepping on my daughter, and knocking over my son with my rear, all in the space of two minutes

How could ANY of this possibly be NORMAL? Are we ALL just muddling through day after day, hoping for the best in the end, or are there moms out there who stick to their well-laid plans?

Am I doing it right?

Don't go...you're at the right place!

First, thank you bloggers, for all of the nice compliments about my new layout! I know nothing about computers or how to make them do tricks, so Zoot helped me out. She's pretty awesome, huh?

I'm in the process of making a few more changes, but my makeover should be complete in the next week or two. I'm not so big on changes of any kind, so I'm feeling a little homesick for my familiar old look. However, I know I'll get used to the new stuff soon enough (especially if you all keep telling me how WONDERFUL it is!)

I've also been tagged again...this time by Mrs. S, and it's about "My City".

If you really want to know the exact location, you'll have to follow the trail of clues, but I will tell you that I live in a small town in southwest Missouri. I've lived with a 50 mile radius of this town all of my life. My husband and I have lived in this particular town for almost seven years, but we're still learning about it's particular quirks and curiosities.

Three places I love here:

1. Mexican Villa restaurant. You have not lived until you have eaten their taco sauce (aka "Sweet Sauce") on tortilla chips. OMG. Heaven. Order some, it's cheap! You will not be sorry, my friends.

2. The river and the park, just down the road from our house. Go fishing, feed the geese, play on a swing or the retired red caboose on a sunny day? Awesome.

3. Forever Memories, my favorite little scrapbook shop where everybody knows my name. My husband says that is NOT something to be proud of. Um, I'm cut off on the scrapbooking budget for the moment. But look...wouldn't you agree that it's money well spent?

*Yeah, Blogger isn't feeling up to it...imagine THAT. Now I will be forced to do an entire post on my scrapbook pages, just out of obsessive compulsive spite.*

Three places (things) I hate here:

1. The tourist traffic passing through to Branson...it's the worst at Lambert's. Tour buses, blue hair, and a one hour wait every night.

2. The rivalry with the school in our neighboring district. BEYOND catty.

3. The bizarre 90 degree corner on the main road in town. There is no stoplight and it is impossible to turn left onto that road at 5:00.

Three places I like to go with my friends:

1. Spring Creek Tea Room. It's run by church friends of ours, and it is a beautiful antique shop with a tea room / restaurant in the back. They make cakes that you wouldn't believe...I could go for some Chocolate Chip Banana Cake right now.

2. The Coffee Bean. Very neat place on the town square.

3. AEA Nails, where Donna and I go for pedicures. Excellent massage chairs, cheap prices, always a good time.


Three things an outsider wouldn't understand about my town:

1. The peacefulness of living in a town with cows everywhere. I can even watch them from my deck in the pasture across the road. MOOOOOOO.

2. The 25 mph speed limit on all roads, including the main road in and out of town. The hell?

3. The sheer number of churches for a town this size. And NO bars. Go figure.

4. Must add one more - Walmart is one of our main social hotspots. I can't go in there without visiting with at least three people I know.

The fanciest neighborhood:

Millwood. Our town has a lot of beautiful (and expensive) neighborhoods, but this one is set on a golf course and has MANSIONS that we could NEVER afford in our lifetime.

The ugliest neighborhood:

I can't remember if this is the right name, but I think it's called Country Crest. Whatever it's called, I remember coming across it when we were looking for a new house. It is made up of these tiny two story houses that are shoved rightnexttoeachother. They're odd looking little houses...they have cute little dormers and wrap around porches, but they are tall and skinny. They look like houses for the old woman that lived in a shoe.


Three people I'm tagging:

Hmm. I'm going to steal Silly Hily's idea on this one:

1. Do it if you
2. don't have anything else
3. to blog about.

Church service gone bad, episode 246

*Blogger is not letting me space between paragraphs again...I am sorry for your eyes.*

Arrive at church yesterday just in time for service to begin. We attend a church with no nursery or Sunday School, so the kids are right there with us in the pew for the entire hour and a half.

Lecture G and L for the millionth time about how we behave and whisper during church. Get G and L set up with snacks, markers, coloring books, with husband and I acting as the great divider on the pew, separating the two children. Things are going along relatively smoothly.

But then? The preacher writes the topic of the sermon on the board:

CHILDREN: OBEY YOUR PARENTS.

Oh yeah. That's just ASKING for trouble. And lo, the naughtiness begins, as if on cue.

G spins quickly out of control, during the PRAYER of course, so I take him outside for some "fleshly discipline". As I come back into the building, I hear the preacher saying, "...and though mothers play an invaluable part in child-rearing, fathers should be the main disciplinarians..." Hmm. Note to self: send husband out to do next round of spankings. Feel eyes burning into me.

Soon after, I am getting out of my (last pew) seat for the third time to grab hold of L, who is about to run a Chinese Fire Drill around the pew. Hear these words: "...one of the most important parts of parenting, especially young children, is to teach them to be respectful of your authority..." The eyes. I can still feel them.

I'm trying to tune into the lesson, thinking this is one I should pay very careful attention to. The preacher is talking about the importance of "...keeping our children out of harm's way, spiritually and physically..." when I hear a rustling sound from the floor. L has managed to find a Shout Stain-Fighter wipe in my purse and is about to wipe her face with it. But I am fast. Chemical burn averted.

L is now laying on the floor, angry about my attempt to keep her out of harm's way, kicking me in the legs. As I yank her up to send her with her father for some fatherly discipline, cue the preacher telling a story about "...once I was in a store and watched a small child hitting and kicking his mother. It was obvious that he had not been well disciplined at home, or the mother never would have allowed her toddler to have control of HER..." Good grief. Is he just watching our pew and making this sermon up as he goes along? The eyes. THE EYES.

"...I've seen three year old toddlers bend 6'3" men to THEIR will...cue my 6'2" husband elbowing me to find more pink gum IMMEDIATELY to stop the children's incessant whining for MO' GUMMMMMM! Um, is it almost time for communion yet???

Preacher begins wrapping up his lesson by letting us parents know that "...corporal punishment is perfectly acceptable when administered along with loving instruction, and NOT out of anger..." I get at least half of this equation right, as I perform some corporal punishment on my children's ears, while steam is visibly rolling off of my head.

And then, his final words of wisdom for the congregation, "Now, if you all will turn around, you'll see a perfect example of how NOT to parent right there in the very back pew."

Okay, I'm just kidding about that last part, but he might as well have just said it. We're always happy to help out other parents in any way we possibly can.

Passing The Torch, Part 2 (or, My Daughter's Excuse For Her Bad Hair)

Now where was I? Ah, yes. My 2 year old daughter and her unruly hair. Remember?

Well, I told you she came by it honestly, so here's the proof:

Me at age 2, 1978

Not so much BAD hair, just a little messy. At least it was out of my eyes, which is more than I can say for my own child.

Me in 7th grade, 1988.

The hair is still long and straight, thankfully, but you can see the emergence of the Poof of Bangs, and note the Side Ponytail With Scrunchie. It's like I have half a set of antennae.

Me at age 13, circa 1989. Oh, dear God.

Oh yeah. I've got it ALL: the Spiral Perm, the Side Ponytail With Scrunchie, the (off center) Wall of Hairspray, er, Bangs.

Why didn't someone tell me? Oh wait. I think my mom DID try, but who the hell listens to their mom at 13?

(I mean, of course, MY daughter will. Shut up. Let me believe the lie.)

Again at age 13, which was obviously the peak of my Bad Hair Years.

And no, I did not crop the photo badly...my Wall of Bangs really DID go out of the frame. It appears that the Poof consisted mostly of hairspray, with very little actual hair involved. And someone REALLY could have told me about brow shaping. But anyway.

I am just thankful for the "natural" hair trend these days. Maybe my daughter will not have to suffer the shame that is Junior High Photos.

Now if I can just find someone to teach her how to style her wild hair, we're good. Hair styling is obviously not a talent I possess.

But I did get rid of the bangs (nevermore - I'm scarred for life against bangs on me of any sort), and I also have PUT DOWN THE HAIRSPRAY. Just trying to set a good example for my girl, you know.

I also learned that I look killer in a cute hat.

Passing the Torch (or maybe The Number Of A Good Stylist)

I always dreamed of having a daughter. My fantasies included tea parties, pretend weddings, playing dress up, and, yes, I'll admit it, fixing her hair, which would be long, thick, lustrous, and shiny.

When L was born, she had some dark brown fuzz. I was slightly concerned that she looked a little Eddie Munster-ish. There was just a hint of a widow's peak on her soft, velvety head. And maybe a touch of mono-brow and upper-lip-mustache. And, um, some back hair. My sweet little monkey baby. This is L at 2 months old:

After a year and a half of elastic headbands and bows pasted to her head with K*Y Jelly (I learned that trick from the nurses in the newborn nursery, thank you very much), she finally had enough hair to gather on top in one clippy. However, while it was long-ish on the top and back, the sides were still short...witness The Baby Mullet:

And the Mullet only got worse when she ripped out the clippy I had worked so hard to secure:

The next photo is during her "I Will Not Look Like A Girl And You Can't Make Me" phase. She was mistaken for a boy nearly every time we went out, no matter how I dressed her:

Below is L on her second birthday. Slightly more hair, still refusing to leave the pigtails in. So for the party photos, it appears that she is homeless, yet well dressed!

The hair. It is unmanageable. It is unruly. It is wild.

Here is one of my favorite styles, the Bunny Ears. This picture below also brings to mind, "There was a little girl, who had a little curl, right in the middle of her forehead. And when she was good, she was very, very good, but when she was bad she was horrid." The author of that poem was a genius. Just look at the horrid-ness shining in her eyes.

Below is a photo of L, taken today. She had just had a bath, so I slicked her hair up into a big girl pony tail. Cute, huh?Yes. Well, this is what it looked like an hour later. The best part was, the ponytail holder was still hanging from the back of her hair.

The girl, she just has bad hair. Now mind you, I love her and think she is the most beautiful creature that ever walked the face of the earth. But. The hair? It may very well give her trouble for the rest of her girly life.

But she totally comes by it honestly...

...check back later for Part Two and you'll see what I mean.

(because Blogger is still not letting me finish uploading my &@%*%#*$ pictures!)

Tag, I'm It!

Blogger is still not in the mood for pictures...so, on to other things for the moment.

I have been waiting for this moment for all of my blogging-life. I have been tagged for the first time. See how little it takes to make me happy?

Three people who make me laugh
Yvonne , Sarcastic Journalist, (though I don't know them personally), and my friend Andrea

Three things I hate
seafood, flying, and the sound of brushing teeth

Three things I do not understand
computers, Republicans, and higher mathematics

Three things I am doing right now
listening to crickets, finishing a wonton, and waiting (impatiently) for blogger to let me load pictures

Three things I am able to do
carry an entire load of groceries into the house in one trip, make really good desserts, and I can sing along to a song while reading a book (and comprehending it) at the same time

Three words to describe me
obsessive, organized, opinionated

Three things I cannot do
roll my tongue (hey, it's genetic - I can't help it), control my children at Walmart, keep outdoor plants alive

Three things I want to learn
how to crochet, take a pottery class, and to become computer LITERATE so I can make my blog pretty

Three favorite foods
tacos from Mexican Villa (a local favorite), chocolate milk (the whole fat kind), and Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream

Three beverages I drink regularly
coffee in all forms (hot, frozen, iced - but it must be sweetened), Coke Zero, milk

Three shows I watched as a kid
Little House on the Prairie, Silver Spoons, and Family Ties

Three people I tag
Donna, Mrs. S, and Carrie

Blogger Sucks

I am working on some posts with pictures. I absolutely refuse to post until Blogger lets me finish what I'm doing. I've crossed my fingers, kissed the computer, and patted it lovingly. I don't know what else I can do. So check back later for a REAL post. Grrrr.