Ohh.....I have issues.

Yes, you read the title right. I have issues. They may be related to not having enough sleep or to how stressful today was, but either way, I feel like trouble.

I, like so many others these days, have gotten sucked into the Facebook world. I tried to resist for a long time, but so much of my family was there, I gave in so I could keep in touch. Before I knew it I had 108 friends. Some of them old boyfriends. This really is no problem...other than on days like today when I am just not right. Let me be clear, I am just looking to torment them, strictly for my amusement. You know, like send them a dozen or so nominations for "most lovable person" or better yet, how about a 250,000 "kidnap'd" request. Trust me, these are people who have no time for such silly applications. I have no ill or romantic feelings for these guys. None. I'm just in that mood that doesn't say much for what kind of person I am. I want to be amused and that would so entertain me.

Ahhh, never mind, I've got a Rocket Scientist here that I can torment instead. I wonder how he feels about watching chick flicks till 4:00AM?

You all have a good night.

Dreams of a Crazy Woman

Thank you friends for all the well wishes. The Rocket Scientist is back at work. The 1st One is back to school. The Wild Child has bronchitis, but is now on the mend and My Son and the Little Jamaican, it is believed by the doctor that, they have allergies. So things are looking up around here.

When the alarm went off this morning the first thought in my head was something left over from a dream. Not a pleasant dream, not really a nightmare either. It was just enough to make me question taking Benadryl before bed. The thoughts going through my head when I awoke were these: "It is so sad that Mick Romney is dead." I need to disclose that I know no one named Mick, not a Romney or other wise. So as I am trying to get conscious I realize this and wonder if something happened to Mitt Romney. Fortunately after scanning the news for 10 minutes, it would appear that the previous presidential hopeful is just fine.

There have been other times that in a dream my Rocket Scientist has done something unsavory and I have awakened very angry with him. Why is that? I know that it was just a dream, though, I am still furious with him. Poor guy, he has to pay for what my mind makes up at night.

Then there is the dream I had when we were still somewhat newly-weds. The Rocket Scientist's mom had passed away in November and his dad decided that a family ski vacation to Mammoth was in order. So in January, we joined his family on said ski trip. We all stayed in a condo in the area. The second level of this condo was a loft that was open to below. There were two queen size beds up there. So the RS and I took one bed and the RS's younger brother and the love of his life took the other. Below in the family room, my FIL slept on the couch and a couple of the RS's older brother's kids slept in sleeping bags on the floor. I am dreaming away one of those nights about having to make it to my best friend's wedding and that I can not get the Rocket Scientist off the mountain so that I can go get ready. I continue to plead my case. As the dream goes on, the RS is now driving me to the wedding and even though there is still time for me to shower, he is ignoring my requests. I become more persistent that I want to take a shower. I begin repeating over and over again, "I want to take a shower! I want to take a shower! I want to take a shower!" In my dream, I get louder and louder as it seems that my demands are falling on deaf ears. It wasn't long after that I was awakened to my husband trying to quiet my yells, my SIL snickering, and my BIL telling me to take a shower then. Fortunately, I woke no one below. To make this story complete, I need to say that, yes, I was mad at the RS all day long that day. Yes, I was allowed a shower, but I was already ticked, though not his fault.

My question to you now is, do others pay for what you dream about?

Looking for the Health Fairy

There is some junk in the air over here. The Rocket Scientist has Walking Pneumonia, the Sea Monkeys are coughing and stuffy and honestly, I am still not right. If there is a Health Fairy for our family, I'm thinking that she's vacationing in Bermuda.

So anyone out there have any home remedies they swear by when they or their kids get sick? What about prevention? You have something that works well? Please share......We are thinking of buying stock in in Kleenex.

Have you met Lucky?

I'm still not up to par....and I have a flight to catch in the morning. I am wondering to myself, how bad is that going to hurt? Ugh.......I would give you my left toe to breathe out of my right nostril. Really I would. You wouldn't want my toe though, nor could you grant me clear sinuses, so this is a pointless and rather disgusting paragraph. In fact you are now wondering to yourself if I have lost it. Maybe you think my fever got to high or I took the wrong meds........

Anyway, I have some quick things to share and a promise to catch up with your blogs next week. On St. Patrick's Day this week, I woke to find this:

This got me to thinking about leprechauns. My friend Wendy knows a leprechaun named Lucky that manages to sneak into her house every year on St. Patrick's Day and causes some mischief. You know, turn furniture up side down, hang underwear from ceiling fans, leaves green "L's" on her kids foreheads, leaves green pee on the toilet seat; I know I must be forgetting a few things, but you get the point right? Well, each of my children has a certain amount of Irish in them. In fact I am the lone soul without any Irish heritage in the house. Honestly, I look at these photos and I see leprechauns. Yes, they are in their night clothes, if that is what you are asking. It was only 11:00 AM and a lovely 60 F. Some were serving snow as lunch, some were trying to kill "mosquitoes" with a snow shovel and others just in it for the adventure.

Do you have leprechauns? Or is this an isolated case?

Do You List This Skill on a Resume?

I was stumbling around blog land when I found this today:





I am just not sure what to say....... Well other than I just can not stop watching it. The first time I laughed. The second time I smiled. The third, I feel a little disturbed. Fourth, I wonder why I keep watching it. Fifth time I think I will put it on my blog so I can watch it and find it anytime I want. Someone, please, make me look away.

Honest Scrap

The Good Flea has sent me an award with some conditions so to say. So here is the award:

Now, if I want to keep this award I have give 10 honest "juicy" things about me. This should be interesting since "juicy" is almost foreign to me. OK, here we go....

1. As a toddler I had amazing little red rain boots. Loved to wear them and apparently I did not have adequate time to test them. My mom found me wearing them, wading in the toilet.

2. When I was a little girl, I noticed that Santa Claus seemed to forget to fill my parents stockings. Somewhere inside it made me feel really sad for my parents, so I started saving my trick-or-treat candy. I would sneak out of my bed in the middle of the night Christmas Eve to put my stale Halloween candy in their stockings.

3. My first kiss was in the 7th grade. His name was Kurtis and I thought I would never meet another boy as cute as him. Funny part is, I don't actually remember the kissing part. I think I may have blacked out with all that 7th grade excitement.

4. I rarely get to see TV, but the one show I love to watch every week is Extreme Makeover Home Edition

5. I was only ever stood up by one guy when I was dating. I was dumb enough to let him do it multiple times.

6. Many of you know that my grandma past away recently. (My Dad's Mom.) What you don't know is (my Mom's Mom) my other grandma passed away when I was eight. It was very traumatic to me. So much so, that in my over active little girl imagination, I thought my parents were storing my grandma's body in the top of the pantry. I know, I need therapy, but wait, the story gets better. So a week or so after my grandmothers funeral, my mom is cooking liver and onions. You know where this is going right? I still can't and won't try liver and onions, because as a demented little girl I thought my mom was trying to feed the family my grandmothers liver. (It didn't help that we had been learning about the Donner Party at school.)

7. OK, either I am getting tired, or I am running out of stuff to tell you. Oh, I know, I have never used the "F" bomb while conscious, but according to the Rocket Scientist, I once used it in my sleep to tell him to get his hands off of me. (It wasn't like that....I was having a nightmare in which he was torquing my shorts to the point I was hitting him in my dream. He tried to wake me and tell me I was having a nightmare.)

8. I love IKEA furniture in theory, not as fond of it in use. Still if your children are going to ruin your furniture anyway, I just don't see how you can go wrong here. Besides that, my favorite pots and pans are from here.

9. I don't like frosting. Of course, unless, it is coconut pecan frosting. That is an entirely different story. That frosting on top of an oatmeal cake is my favorite. YUMMM!

10. I cry every time I walk through the front gates of Disneyland. I don't really know why, I just start feeling all emotional and can't help myself.

Now I get to pick the next victims to spill the "juicy" details of their life. Let me think....Allrighty then, Krista you have spilled enough in the past year, you have already earned this award. Really, go read her blog, you will know what I mean. She puts it all out there. So........ Jen who is Buried With Children, my sister who has a White Knuckle Grip, Carrie who likes her Life in the Slow Lane, Tori at The McKee's, Nicole who's children believe in Naptime Optional, and Stacy at Me and the Boys.

Can hardly wait to read what you all have to spill. Thanks for tagging me Flea.

Life comes at you fast.

I need to start this off by saying, "I LOVE HUNTSVILLE, ALABAMA!!!!" Really, I do. Even when it is cold in the middle of winter. My trip was a much appreciated break from the usual mommy stuff that comes with being the mom. I must say being married to the Rocket Scientist has endless perks for me. Not many can boast about being sent on a "momcation" by their spouse and then have him brag about how much fun he had. Yes, he was really bragging about how much fun it was.



While I was there, one of the things I feared, did happen. My sweet 95 year-old grandmother passed away. She passed away not once but twice while we were away. I am not sure if that made it easier dealing with her passing or if just meant getting sad news twice. She has had a pace maker for years. So, as I understand it, she passed away, hospice notified the appropriate people, and sometime later the postmortem nurse shows up to do her thing and finds my grandmother breathing. You know, that pace maker noticed her heart was not beating and started to do it's job. So a day later, she made peace with her pace maker and passed away for good. Sorry, this is little morbid. I have two ways of dealing with death. They are shutting down and being completely dysfunctional or humor. This time around, there is a bit of both. Her obituary can be found at this link. http://www.larkinmortuary.com/opc_sop_o.php?obituary_idx=2856&search=&sort=death_date%20DESC&PHPSESSID=d0b53e7e20f3a8999960ff191f8d8355

If you have ever lost a loved one who had to struggle for quality of life, no matter how short the time, you know what a relief their passing can be. Somehow though, that relief never dulls the sting of the loss. My grandmother was a character. I love her dearly. I didn't live near her until I was a teenager. I can honestly say that she helped smooth out a lot of my teen years. She took me to my first opera and my first ballet. She would negotiate with my dad (her son) on my behalf. I remember one time in particular when my father didn't want to let me go to a church dance. After many tears, my grandma said she would handle it. Turned out I got to go! A day or two later, I asked her how she did that. She smiled and said, "I just asked him how he felt when I didn't let him go to church dances?" She was the best grandma for me as a teenager. She had such a profound influence on my life that the Little Jamaican has my grandmother's name as her middle name. I will miss her dearly.

While I was away on my trip, we found out the Rocket Scientist's company no longer needs us to relocate. What a relief that is. As much as I love Huntsville, I really do not want to move right now.

One last thing........Krista, thank you for the birthday wishes. You are way too good to me. That is quite a bit to live up to. So, I will try not to let it stress me out. :)

Boneless White Meat......

Oh the things I hear as a mother...........Do you have a meat preference? There might be a meat preference in my house. Let me explain.


The other day I hear from the back seat, "What is skin made of?" Well before the Rocket Scientist or I have a chance to respond we hear the Wild Child tell her sister, "Boneless white meat." Trying to stifle my laughter I suddenly find myself wondering if this is true no matter the shade of your skin. So, when I could control myself, I had to ask. I was assured by the Wild Child that all skin is "boneless white meat." So there you have it. If you were ever wondering. While I am on the topic of "boneless white meat" you should pop over and say "hi" to my friend Krista before she has surgery.

On a new subject, I am truly struggling to keep up on my blog right now. Life keeps throwing twist and turns my direction. Please, let me be clear. I love the twists and turns. It is what makes life fun. However, said ride, is sucking up an awful lot of time and energy.

We have been offered an opportunity to make a move with my husbands employment. I love living in new places. I love learning about the local culture, meeting new people, getting to know the geography. I really love looking at the architecture and how different it is in different parts of our nation. I detest the moving part. I don't like looking for a new school for my kids. I hate the sleep deprivation that is always involved in a move. I hate leaving my friends behind. I am a decent long distance friend, but it's not the same as being able to call up a friend and say, "Hey, let's go get chocolate faced tonight." or the "We have a sitter, let's do dinner tonight." There is so much comfort in established relationships. For me, it provides a sense of belonging, to have a few friends close by to laugh and cry with. Friends to escape with, friends who make you feel like you can take on the world. I am also not fond of the unpacking part. If you need proof, come look at my basement. We have been here almost two years and there are still boxes of which I know the content of, that I have not unpacked. I just haven't felt like it. (This can be problematic, since there are things I need in those boxes from time to time, so I will pull an item or two out and leave the rest of box disheveled. This makes my basement look a bit like a bomb went off.) We have yet to make a decision, but I imagine we will have to make it soon.

If this were not enough to think about, I have a grandmother, my father's mother, and grandfather, my mother's father that seem to be under the impression that their bodies are wearing out. I have wonderful grandparents. The thought of it being their "time" is too much for me right now. (Trust me, I get it, I don't really have a say in the matter.) They are both in their 90's so I get that it is unreasonable for me to think they will be around for another 25 years. Still, I wish that the quality of their lives where better and that they could be around for another 25 years. And as I sit here and type this, I feel very selfish for letting get to me like this. You know that my sweet Rocket Scientist had lost both of his parents by the time he was thirty.

Did I mention that I am married to the best guy ever? I may have eluded to that a time or two. For my birthday this month, he is sending my sister and I out of town for 5 whole days. That is 5 whole days of no kids, no laundry, no dishes and hopefully good sleep. So I am frantically working on getting myself ready for a trip to Alabama on Thursday. Will you all say a prayer that my grandparents hang in there till I get back? Thank you.

So back to my first topic.......boneless white meat. Anybody have a simple, accurate answer that I can give my kids on what skin is made of? Seriously......where does the Wild Child come up with these things?

Ever Feel Like This?

Lately it seems that choices have been flying at me, rapid fire, so to say. I wonder if I have this same expression and head tilt.

Actually, have been thinking about choices and how they affect my life. Some choices are a given that you have to make the right one or it's not going to be pretty. Then there are the choices that just don't matter. It's neither of those choices that are on my mind right now. It's most of those choices in the middle causing me some distress. They are the choices that have a profound effect on your life, but are not life threatening. The choices that you make and second guess yourself for years. As I have been thinking about these type of choices, I have started to notice a common theme in what I call the good choices. It's not how easy it has been to live with my choice, it's how my attitude has been about my choice. It's the way I chose to look at the choice I made. If I chose to look for the good or the bad in my choice. Not that I am not suggesting that there are not lessons to learn from every painful situation, but that there is always good and I'm much happier when I look for it.

So.......when faced with a choice that challenges you, how do you make your decision? Please share with me, since I have several big choices to make and could use some help.

Funny backsides, cheap gas and missing you.

Today as we were at the gas station, the Little Jamaican notices a man putting air in the tire of a motorized scooter. She starts chuckling and then full on laughing. She blurts out, "Mom, I see that guys butt cracker." Of course, I have to look, yep, you can see where the good Lord split him. Leave it to a four year old to notice, find funny and point out such a spectacle to the whole car.

Speaking of gas stations, I was so excited to see that one of the local gas stations is down to $2.59 a gallon for our lowest grade. Then because I'm apparently not thinking clearly, I decided to see what it cost for gas in some of the other places we lived. Most of them were a few cents to about 20 cents lower. Then I got to Kansas. You know where we lived in Kansas is down to $1.97 gallon. Suddenly $2.59 feels a little high.

The Rocket Scientist was business traveling last week. Sadly not leaving me much time to blog when I'm running around trying to keep the Sea Monkeys out of trouble all by myself. This week is not different, he left today, taking my heart and my sanity with him.

I miss you all. I will be doing my best to catch up with you. If I don't you will know that the Sea Monkeys are keeping me buried.

How bad do you need that bra?

A few days ago, a friend of mine, who will remain linkless to protect her innocence, met me for lunch at the mall. While there she mentioned that she needed to purchase a sports bra since she has started exercising and has been blessed with more than her share of , ummmmm, let's just say, she makes my look like I haven't hit puberty yet.

Anyway, on to the adventure. I had My Son and the Little Jamaican with me. I don't know if I have ever mentioned any shopping trips with said Sea Monkeys, but bra shopping is not something I really enjoy with them. When we reach the lingerie department My Son squeals and the only way to put this is, starts groping the padded bras. The "crazy man" giggle immediately follows. The Little Jamaican starts chanting, "Boobies, boobies, booooooooooooooobiiiiiieeeeeees!" Why must they be so embarrassing?

One Man Wrecking Machine

I have one boy, so I don't know if this is personality or gender but, HOLY MOLY, that kid is turning my life into one enormous, chaotic, exploding disaster. (Wait just a minute.....I'm checking to see if I'm exaggerating.)

(Nope, not exaggerating. Well maybe a little.)

So this little darlin' I call My Son

has turned the backyard into a mud pit, crushed a basket of cinnamon scented pine cones in my living room, broken the very expensive wood blinds in that room, clogged the main floor toilet with who knows what, pulled all of his sister's clothes out of her drawer, colored on my table and chairs with black crayon, ran the ice and water dispenser on the fridge without a cup, letting it hit the floor and laughing about it. Wait.....I'm still not done. He has stuck food to the sofa in the family room, taken out DVD's and left them strewn all over the house, helped himself to the pretzels in the pantry, spilling the contents all over the house. It's not like he's being malicious. He just thinks life is one big science experiment right now.

Can any one tell me.......will I survive this? Will he?

Her memories...pleasure and pain

The Wild Child started Kindergarten today. The little sweetheart decided she wanted me to straighten her hair. I was happy to do it. She goes in the afternoon, so we had plenty of time to do it. She was kneeling on a step in my bathroom as I pulled the hot iron through her hair. Half way through, she decided she didn't want it straight anymore; it was taking too much time. I told her that we had come this far....We were going to finish. Just then she shifted her body and I reacted trying to move the hot iron away from her face. I lost my grip on it and it fell on her little ankle. The iron wide open, burning both the front and back of her little leg and ankle. I think I cried longer than she did. The blisters are unbelievable. We cared for the burn and dressed it, gave her some ibuprofen and you would have no idea that the girl had anything less than the ideal morning. I still can't close my eyes, 'cause every time I do, I see that iron falling on her leg and then I hear her screams in my head. The last thing I am going to say on this topic of burns is, there is a product called "Second Skin" that is amazing! Tonight when I redressed her ankle the swelling was almost gone out of the blisters and my baby said they didn't hurt. She was still very protective of her little leg, but that would be expected.

So on the way to school the Wild Child says to me, "Mom, I don't need you to walk me in. I know where my classroom is. It's right by the red chairs. I know the rules. When you stop the car, I get out of my car seat. Then I give you a hug and kiss before I get of the car. When I get to the school door, I will stop and turn around and wave to you." At this point I have to turn my head to keep her from seeing the tears streaming down my face as we are now in front of the school. That was that. The Wild Child went to kindergarten and loved it. She can't wait to go back tomorrow. She is convinced that she has the best teacher in the school.

So here is what she looked like in her little uniform. I know that I'm partial, but dang she looks cute.

Do you hear what I hear?

We all know from the past, that I should not blog in the middle of the night, but it is, what it is.

I am honestly exhausted, but somehow sleep has left me and is refusing to return. I lie here trying to relax and drift back to sleep. My ears are suddenly informers of every little or not so little thing. First there is the 1st One bounding in to my room at 2:00 AM insisting that I need to come and kiss her good night in her bed. (I wasn't here when she went to bed, so she doesn't know that I already have.) I send her back to bed and kiss her good night there. My Son then starts to stir and starts crying. I can hear that he is very congested. He is complaining of being thirsty, so I bring him a sip of water and go back to bed. As I cuddle up to a very warm Rocket Scientist, I am beginning to fall back asleep when the 1st One comes busting in our room again, proclaiming, "I can't sleep with all this noise!" I sit up and try to collect my thoughts. "What noise? Is My Son crying again?" Yep, that's the problem and the Little Jamaican is now awake, too. She thinks she needs a drink of water. OK, everybody who needed a drink now has a drink, My Son has been medicated for what ails him and I'm finally back in bed trying to get comfortable. My mind starts turning, the sweet man that I married begins to snore like a buzz saw and I start to fret.

You see, by nature, I am a worrier. I start to worry that My Son may have not have swallowed all his medicine, making that a choking hazard. Sooooooooooo, I have to get up and check on him. He's fine. Then I start to think about back to school night for the 1st One and the Wild Child we attended tonight. You see, before I went to bed, I looked at the folder they gave us while at the school and noticed that there were some required items I neglected to do. Never mind that I was distracted by whining, hungry children and an intense need to get out of the crowd. Since this is a brand new charter school, that was no easy feat to get into, I am feeling a little like a failure. So, I rationalize to myself that I will complete missing items from my check list of required items tomorrow when I drop off all the requested school supplies and vision form for the Wild Child. Then I start thinking about all the cost that goes along with back to school time. I start praying that we will recover in time for Christmas.

That thought leads me to one of the more stressful parts of my day. I had to make a trip into the Evil Empire tonight to finish shopping for the remainder of the before mentioned school supplies. I finished up about 9:30 PM, loaded everything into the car, got in, and tried to start my mobile hamster cage. That darn mini-van would not turn over to save my life. I debate what to do. The location of the particular Walmart is a bit questionable, so asking someone to give me a jump is a less than attractive idea. I settle on calling the RS to come rescue me on his white steed, errr I mean in his late model Toyota 4 Runner, with four sleeping or at least sleepy kids loaded in their car seats. Some where in our phone conversation about me needing to be rescued, I get slightly smarter for a minute and ask him to call the neighbor with teenage daughters and see if one of them will come hang out at the house so the Sea Monkeys can sleep while he comes to rescue me. He agrees that this a better plan and hooks it up.

The RS shows up and begins the process of jumper cables and what not. He tells me to try and turn the engine over. Nope, nothing. So he tries revving his engine, when I start to see arcing and smelling melted plastic and wires. No, this isn't good. There is now a small fire where the jumper cables are attached to my van. Fortunately, this part turns into a non-incident. Small fire lasted seconds, snuffed out quickly by my fast thinking guy, trying not to burn himself.

We are at the Evil Empire, so we can run in and buy some new, heavier duty, jumper cables and a wire brush to clean off the terminals on the RS's battery inside his white steed. Longer story shorter, it's not the battery. Probably the starter. We gave up around 10:30 - 10:45. Yeah, so now my Mobile Hamster Cage is sitting in the Walmart parking lot in a questionable part of town.

Do you think that has given me some material to think about at 3:53 AM. Oh there is the,"I wonder if I will have any gas in it when I find it tomorrow to have it towed and the how much does it cost to repair a severed gas line?" Then there is all the obvious stuff like, will the tires still be there (they are new) or will someone try to steal it (I could only wish), or how about vandalism. Then I get going onto the cost of towing and to repair the dang thing, not that it's not just a part of life, but remember trying to recover from back to school before Christmas. And yeah, how much money do you sink into a vehicle with 143,000 miles on it?

Then I start thinking about earwigs. I wonder how many of them are still in my home. I noticed when I got tissue to wipe My Sons nose when he was crying that there was one on the bathroom ceiling. One compared to the army we use to have is really not to bad.

Yep, now I'm back to listening to the buzz saw and wondering what the heck is wrong with his foot. We are going on over a month now. I'm not going into all the details on that tonight/this morning, but the dang thing is really starting to worry me. I cannot do all these dishes by myself.

So now that I have been rambling on and on and on and on and on............ The snoring stopped......I just might be ready to sleep. 4:30 to 7:30. That's three hours right?

Is it wrong that I think this is funny?

They were singing just about every song they know. So I decided I wanted to record it for black mail at a later date and got something far better instead. (The drill running in the back ground is the Rocket Scientist hanging a valance in their bedroom.)

Put that thing down, I know where it's been.

I wish I had the wit that my Shades of Blonde friend has, because if I did this would be more funny and less gross. So, I'm sorry you have to hear it from me.

My sweet little Wild Child is the most disgusting child I have met to date. When she was little and barely walking we had gone to Salt Lake City to visit my family. I already had four little kids by then. The 1st Child was the only one potty trained and needed to use the facilities when we were in Shopko. I wheeled my tandem stroller into the restroom with three kids crammed into it and the 1st Child walking on her own. Helping my oldest to use the toilet I left the others in the stroller just outside the stall. Now, I am a very paranoid mother and have this constant fear that someone will snatch my children if I am not constantly looking at them, so the stall door is open. As the 1st Child is finishing up, I notice that the Wild Child has climbed out of the stroller and is toddling into the next stall. I am helping her big sister off the toilet as fast as I can, then tripping over the stroller trying to get to her before she does something that I will regret. The two seconds that took were not fast enough. I reached her as she is lapping up toilet water like it is a stream in the mountains. Did I mention that Salt Lake City had a Meningitis break out at this time? I am wondering how do you even begin to clean a toddler under these circumstances? Gross!

Flash forward three and half years or so, to tonight. It's Friday night and we still try to go out as a family on this night. Usually dinner and sometimes a home improvement store. Tonight it was just dinner at Bajio's. As typical with 4 kids ranging in age from 4 to 7 years, at some point they all need to use the restroom during dinner and that is ok. The part that is not ok is, on the way home the Wild Child and my Son have taken their shoes off and put them on their hands and are using them to clap, like percussion instruments in a marching band. Next thing I hear from the back seat is the Wild Child proclaiming she is going to lick the bottom of her shoes. Before I can say anything, she has begun doing something that I don't know how to clean. Yuck. We try to explain how gross it is, by telling her that she has probably stepped into "pee" in the restrooms at Bajio's and by doing so has put some really yucky stuff in her mouth. She insists there was no "pee" on the floor. She tells us that she looked and there wasn't any and therefore no need to worry about her licking her shoes. She did stop when we asked, but you can bet when I put her to bed tonight, I did not kiss that girl anywhere near her mouth.

Please......Protect me from myself.

I'm not sure yet if the title of this posting is appropriate yet or not. We will have to wait and see. I am warning anyone who reads this post, that they do so at their own risk. It will likely be very controversial. OK disclaimers are finished.

Yesterday I took the Wild Child in for her Kindergarten check-up. I love the Doctor and the whole practice for that fact. That is saying quite a bit if you know me. I am one of those free thinkers that doesn't believe that doctors have all the answers for my health and well being.

The Wild Child was very calm about the whole thing and so was I, because I honestly believed that she was all up to date on her immunizations. So I didn't prepare her for any "shots" or prepare myself for such an event. Turns out she had to have three. UGH! She was so brave as she and I talked about it while they prepped the immunizations in another room. I asked her if she wanted me to hold her when they gave them to her, or she wanted me to hold her after. She said after. She was so good about it....till it started to really hurt as they pushed the injection into her thigh muscle. I had to, not only hold her then, but restrain her. I think it was worse on me than it actually was for her. I worry she thinks that I ambushed her.

So that was the trauma. Here is where I rant and get controversial. As I am talking with the Doctor, she tells me that another school district in the area requires some blood work and tests that my school district does not. I start thinking about this and I am really getting mad. (Not at the Doctor.) Why does the school district think it can mandate such things? Is it any of their business if my child has Sickle Cell trait or any other number of things that tests can prove? If I choose to not let my doctor release the information to them, can they still get the information? Not that I have anything to hide, I just feel that government in it's MANY forms, thinks that I am incompetent, therefore, must mandate and legislate, me and my family to safety.

I think about home schooling a lot. I am not sure that the government belongs running schools anyway. I think that it is a conflict of interests so to say. Our history books sort of back up my point. The history books change over time based on the popular opinion of the day, not to mention, this gives the government a captive, impressionable audience to push what it thinks is right. Which I might add is not always what I believe to be right.

There is some controversy over immunizations for some people as well. I am on the fence with this one. I do however believe that families should have that right to choose whether this is for them or not and not mandated by the public school system. People should be well informed about the risks, either way. Then and only then, should they make those kind of choices. I think about all those people who now suffer from Autism that are linked to a type of vaccination serum used years ago.

I just want to live in the the "Land of the free and the home of the brave."

Ok, one more disclaimer.......My comments moderation is on because I have received some spam and one comment from some physco/perv a while back. Please feel free to share with me what you think and I will post it. It is always good to know if I am way out there on my own or if there are a few others like me.

Is it Paranoia or OCD?

Oh to be a fictional character. Rhea over at http://texaswordtangle.blogspot.com/ got me thinking about just that. It would seem her son has some ideas about his name. As is turns out, my son has some ideas about his own as well. If I hadn't mentioned it, my Son is developmentally delayed and though he will be 7 in a few weeks, he really seems more like 4ish. His favorite movies ever are the Shrek movies. His favorite Character is Puss-n-boots. So much so, that he insists we call him "Puss-n-boots." He now refers to his Dad as "Ogre" and occasionally calls me "Biona."

Being that it is 2:48 AM and I should be sleeping. I want to be sleeping but I'm not. I have wondered if it is Paranoia or OCD keeping me awake. If you read my previous post you know that we have had a few unwelcome visitors. It seemed like every night was "2nd verse, same as the 1st." They 1st Child and the Wild Child would be crying and carrying on about bugs until they would pass out cold. So being a mom that treasures what sanity she still has claim on, I have been religiously looking for ways to free myself from these little demons we call earwigs.

I have cleaned. I have weeded. I have sprayed insecticide in window sills. I have chased the little brats down with tissue to squish and send to a swirling, watery grave. I completely dusted the foundation of my home with http://www.ghorganics.com/DiatomaceousEarth.html. If this doesn't work, I have more information in my arsenal that I am not afraid to use.

The worst part is, I start to fall asleep only to see earwigs in my sleep. Alarmed I wake up ready for battle. Or there is the half awake, half asleep slumber where I could swear I feel one crawl down my back or across my face. This is when I can't decide if I really believe that they are everywhere, trying to take over my world or if I am so focused on the task at hand that I have to kill all earwigs, including the made up few in my head.

So this brings me back to the first topic. If I were a fictional character, I would choose to be:

I could wave my magic wand and turn all those little earwigs into little elves that would do my dishes and laundry, maybe even clean my house. Or maybe I would choose to be Fiona. She would probably find them to be a tasty little snack, like high end chocolate. She certainly wouldn't mind a few million earwigs crawling around her house.