I thought this would be more like having a cat.

Workin' for the Weekend

Last weekend, E, Sophie and I drove up to Salt Lake (Provo actually) to stay overnight and visit my step-son, Janzen. Usually, E drives to Salt Lake (a 3 hour drive) on Friday, picks him up and turns around and drives back, and then I drive him 2/3ds of the way back on Sunday (his mom meets me at a kind of hilarious truck stop.) However, this weekend E had saved up some Marriot rewards points and so we decided to use them on a family mini-break.

We hit the road on Saturday, after delivering Jimmy to my parents and did ok for about the first, oh, 2 minutes. E was very thoughtful and bough some cartoons for Sophie to watch in the Game Boy—but the picture was so small and sound so fuzzy that she was only entertained by it for about 5 minutes.

So—somewhere around Paragonah (a real name and a real town. I think in Paiute it means “evil water”) I said fuck-it, and climbed in the back with her. We played My Little Ponies for, oh, ever, and then I busted out these little chain making things. The idea is to sort them by shape and color and click them into chains for jewelry, etc. Soph, however, wanted to take turns chaining each other up, pretending to steal the key (an extra chain piece which she cunningly tucked into her sock), and escaping. For some reason (probably some cartoon) it was very important that we shout out, “Don’t be so sure!” upon our escape.

We also sang the name game song—(which she is getting quite good at. She now “banana-fannas” around the house pretty regularly. Yes, singing the name-game song is an act punishable by drowning in caterpillars after about the age of 10, but when Soph sings it, the cuteness sort of ricochets off the walls) and the “Sophie Gene” song—each about 90 zillion times. (I made up the Sophie Gene song when Soph was first born, and have been adding verses to it since. It changes as she gets older—but mainly it goes:

Sophe Gene, Sophie Gene is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.
Sophie Gene, oh my sweet sweet Sophie, won’t you come play with me?
Sweet Sophie Gene, went for a walk on a sunny day, and who did she see?
Mommy and Daddy and Janzen, too.
Oh what a silly Sophie Gene.

Sophie Gene, Sophie Gene, is sweeter than a tangerine.
Sophie Gene, oh my sweet sweet Sophie, won’t you come play with me?
Sweet Sophie Gene, went for a walk on a sunny day, and what did she see?
Mandy and Zachy and Madeline
Oh what a silly Sophie Gene.

There are lots more verses—changes made in lines 1 and 3 based on different words that rhyme with Gene, different people we know, and sometimes animals, etc.)

After picking up Janz, we headed to the dinosaur museum. The kids had fun—I forgot the camera, and at the gift shop, they both chose the very appropriate and dinosaur-esque prize of a slinky.

Like all kids, the only REAL reason they showed up for the party was to swim in the hotel swimming pool. So, we checked in, suited up, and had a very nice time bobbing around together.

At dinner, Sophie started complaining of a tummy ache. I kind of blew it off, because I knew she was hungry, but then she lay down on the bench and started acting pretty pokey. Just as the waitress was taking our order, Soph informed me she was going to throw up. I grabbed her, put my hand over her mouth, shoved past the waitress, and ran blindly looking for a bathroom. I found it, opened the door, and Soph puked all over the floor. I guess better on the bathroom floor than at the table. So—she puked in a toilet stall while I cleaned up the mess as best as I could with paper towels. I didn’t know if Erik had heard her say she was going to throw up, so I didn’t know if he was aware of my plight. So—I left Soph alone—sick—in the bathroom (bad mommy) to get Erik. He was very nervous to be conferencing with me in the ladies, but, desperate times call for desperate measures. Ultimately, he took Soph back to the hotel, I arranged to get our food to go, and we all met up back at the hotel about 30 minutes later.

Luckily—the puking was just a result of too much time in the car and swallowing too much chlorine. She fell asleep sitting up in bed, and slept pretty much through the night.

I, however, did not, My Janzen is the sweetest, smartest kid on the planet, but that kid snores like a freakin’ freight train. Between his snoring, Soph’s kicking, and me worrying that she was going to barf again, I slept for about 2 hours.

I’m bored of this story—so suffice it to say, the trip home was about the same as the trip up—and that when I woke up Monday morning to get ready for work (and discovered my period had started) I thought—Huh? Don’t I get a weekend first?

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Last night was the first night I put her to bed without a pull-up. She was fine, and woke up with dry panties and a dry bed. Could it be we’re totally totally potty trained?

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
As always—the mess. The freaking, never ending, constantly building, unmanageable, mess.

Somebody call 9-Wah-Wah

This is a bitching/Woe is me/I hate being fat post. Skip it if you've heard enough of that shit. I would.

So--day before yesterday I went to see the doc to start up my phentermine prescription again. Things have been getting pretty dire in the pants department. He looked at my weight and actually shook his head and made that disapproving clicking sound. I could have died of embarrassment. I asked him to scale down the dosage, as the last round was making me too jiggery, and as a result, I quit taking them.

Cut to yesterday--a blizzard. I decided to try and go to the Wednesday yoga class for the first time--got in the car--drove to the Paiute culture cultural center, trudged through the snow to the front door, only to find a note that said--"Yoga Class Canceled." Not too zen to pissed of about yoga--but I was.

Then--as I was already out, decided to go pick up my prescriptions--Both the Lexipro (anti-depressant) and Phentermine (appetite suppressant.) The pharmacy is in a long line of stores, one of which is the LDS bookstore my in-laws own. It also carries a very few "national" titles. I browsed the health and nutrition section, as I generally suck at feeding myself, and picked up "Eight Weeks to Optimum Health" a la Andrew Weil--the bearded nutritional wonder. So I'm reading along, and nodding, and going--sure, sure, sounds good. Then he says, go through my pantry and throw out everything with hydrogenated oils, artificial sweeteners, artificial colors, and all oils that are not olive (particularly cottonseed). Problem. That is like half of my pantry. I know the shit is bad for me--and worse for Sophie, but no Mac and Cheese? No pancake mix? Basically, nothing that has been convenience-ized. Fuck. I know I eat shitty. But everything? Can I? Should I? It seems that if I'm going to do this, I'll have to cook from scratch like EVERY NIGHT!!

So took my pills this morning, and am totally, totally, spun. This didn't happen last time. I'm edgy, gittery, nauseous, and just fucking nuts.

I don't know if I have the will power and time to go the "right" rout. I don't know if I can stand the speediness of the medication. Am feeling like just being unhealthy and 40 (ok 50) pounds overweight for ever. Anyone seen any good sales on moo-moos?

Today's best thing about being a mom:
It gives me something to think and worry about other than myself

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
She woke up at five fucking thirty this morning!! I still had an hour. A whole lovely hour of sleep left. Nope.

Fondu?

Just now Me: "Soph! Where are your pants!!" She: "I got cheese in em!"

Your Assignment

This is an assignment I gave today. The idea is that the students complete one version of the "poem" (don't lets argue about what a poem is--ok) for themselves, and another version based on a character in the novel we're reading. I hand out a paper that looks like this.

______________________
your name

_____________________ is a ___________________
your name

Who wants

Who wishes

Who needs

Who used to

Who now

Who is afraid of

Who will some day

The products I get are sometimes very silly and surface--but often are very thoughtful. Here is one I did very quickly today (with a few additions that weren't particuarly "school appropriate"), just as an example.

Rebecca is a mother, teacher, wife, woman, and human

Who wants to sleep in some day, read an entire novel from start to finish without being interrupted, reclaim her libido, go a day without back pain, feel she is getting better than a "C" an all subjects of her life, have a clean house, and be happy.

Who wishes her husband laughed more, her daughter was less messy, her students were more attentive, her sister lived closer, and her life was less complicated, but more exciting.

Who needs to take at least 4 ibuprophin a day, to learn to accept the mess without giving up on it, to take more walks, and to go to the post office today.

Who used to stay in bed all weekend, wear a size 10, believe in heaven and hell, and be friends with Kelli.

Who now thinks getting up at 8:00 is sleeping in, doesn't look in full length mirrors, believes she'll have a Cosmopolitan this evening, and wonders what would happen if she gave Kelli a call.

Who is afraid of ants, failure, scales, phentermine, kidnappers and child abusers, being ignored, and the urge to just stop caring sometimes.

Who will some day stay in bed all weekend, wake up to a clean house, have a healthy body that she loves, finish her masters, take a train ride to Albuquerque, cook a 7 course gourmet meal with Katy, and sit on the beach at Point Lobos with her husband.

So, as I said, there's your assignment. Post here in the comments, or on your blog--just let me know so I can read it. It's due by Friday. Only 70% credit for late assignments.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Looking forward to a big hug and kiss when I go pick her up today

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Combing her hair in the morning

Meanwhile...back at the ranch

What is this? I'm sitting in a comfortable chair, and my wrist isn't falling asleep from sitting on a knife like corner. It is completely silent. Glancing around, I see no Sophie toys, no Jimmy toys, and nothing has been chewed on, spilled on, or otherwise destroyed.

That's right--I'm at Mom's house. The PU's (parental units) and Katy have sojourned up north to take care of the geriatric needs of the extended family, and this morning, after a long and harrowing day yesterday, I loaded the laundry in the car (ok--Erik loaded--but I told him to) and headed for this veritable oasis of clean and quiet. I have about 3 hours ahead of me and I plan to spend about 1 of them fucking around on the computer, 1 in the bathtub, and 1 reading the paper and looking through the 1 gazillion catalogues my mom receives daily. (Oh--and shuffle the laundry in and out as needed.)

I love being at my mom's house when no one is here. It's like crashing a super nice hotel for free for a few hours. I never actually lived in this particular model. It's officially the 6th or is it 7th place my parents have lived in since we all moved to Utah, and I only lived in 2 of them--ok 3 if you count that couple of months I moved back during a rocky patch with E. Building houses is my parent's hobby. Anyhootenany Mom's pantry is always stocked, the place is always clean, and mom always has good stuff. The hot tub. The walk in shower. The comfy computer chair. Ahhh.

Now then--a little catching up. The first week of teaching everyday actually went quite well. We have a new group of students thanks to a little prescription pill swapping at the "real" high school. It's so funny when we get a batch like this. They always are a little scared--think they're going to be knifed or something. They always think they're just a little to good for us, and that they will be returning to their home schools asap. After a few weeks though, they start to love it, to see how great it is to be in a class with fewer than 15 students. To be at a school with no social aristocracy. To have a teacher that writes prespositional phrases as though they were sentences. By the end of the quarter, they and their parents generally want them to stay forever, and we have to be pretty firm about who we'll keep (those who really need us) and those who don't.

The main problem has been, as is the norm in teaching, other adults, not kids. My principal failed to notify the district office correctly that I was returning full time. As a result--my health benefits have been held up (I've been wearing this pair of disposable 1 month contacts for like, 6 months and they fucking HURT) and my pay check did not reflect my extra hours last week. So, I called the district office, and explained (very politely) to the insurance/payroll secretary that I was now full time, and asked who I had to blow to get my freaking money and benefits. (Ok. I just asked her what the best way to fix the problem would be.) She said, and this is a direct quote, "Well, I'll call and talk to your principal, and if you really are full time I will call you back." Huh? Is it just me, or was that in incredibly rude/bitchy/untrusting thing to say. Do they have a problem with people randomly calling and lying about working full time? After a bit of phone and email tag, however, I think I fixed the problem.

In other riveting news--I've started taking a yoga class (it's actually a women's empowerment yoga class--no scoffing please) and have been twice now. Truth? It's THE BOMB!! I love the class, love the teacher (a 50 year old pixi-ish knock-out with the most beautiful autumn coloring you've ever seen), love how I feel while I'm there, love how I feel for approx. 3 minutes after the class until I forget everything an fall back to shit again--but hopefully that 3 minutes will turn into 5 and maybe 10 and who knows, some day, I may be a walking force for calming and wholeness and awareness in the universe. But not today.

Actually--I'd love to be enlightened--who wouldn't, but I'm kind of afraid it will make me kind of, I don't know, dull. I'm not TOO neurotic, but I must admit, I'm a bit attached to my neurosis. (What an incredibly shallow way to feel.)

Now--Sophie news. My child is an incredibly gifted mess maker. Everyday she comes up with new and varied ways to drive me mad. When not decorating the walls with crayon, marker, nail polish, pudding, or toothpaste, she loves to make soup. Making soup entails sneaking some kind of liquid--water from the toilet, a juice box, dad's old half empty can of Pepsi, pouring it into a bowl--could be the dog's, or her lunch box, or even a shoe will work in a pinch--and adding any kind solid to it.

Yesterday she was grounded for the first time. She took a carrot out of the refrigerator, OPENED the door and walked ACROSS THE STREET to feed the real bunny that belongs to her friend Bianca. I was doing laundry at the time, so my negligence is partly to blame, but dude, I was so scared, so worried. I searched the house, then ran across the street to find her sitting in the snow, happily poking a carrot throughout he bars of the rabbit cage. She just grinned and told me she was feeding the bunny. I grabbed her, and proceeded to spank her bare butt right then and there, and wouldn't let her play with her friends for the rest of the day. She was PISSED but Christ almighty--that girl has got to learn that she is a CHILD!!! We talked a lot about the incident, and I think she understands, kind of, why I was so angry--but really, she just seemed to be placating me.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Ice cream cone cupcakes. Remember those? Delish.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Trying to figure out what to do with a child who is fiercely independent

Thpbt

These things challenge my belief in a benevolent god.

1. Back fat
2. Zits ON TOP OF wrinkles
3. Hemorrhoids
4. Hangovers
5. The Telletubbies

I'm grumpy as hell--but that probably just comes from having to go to work EVERY DAY this week. Yes, I know I'm a whiney cry baby--but fuck, when does one clean the fucking house when one has to work all the time? Here is a list of the things on the floor in my living room today.

3 headed dog toy (From Harry Potter)
disgusting chewed on dog ball
sheet of Christmas gift tags
a gorilla flashlight--the light comes out his mouth
a tape measurer
duck bill platypus stuffed toy with the legs chewed off--looks like weird obese fluffy snake
purple pajama top
shards of a chewed up pencil
3 used dryer sheets
plastic bag from "Mountain West Books"
FOOZEBALL TABLE that was supposed to be moved downstairs 3 WEEKS AGO
1Bella Dancerelly wand ribbon dancing thing
duck zoo pall
video box for Almost Famous
barrel of monkeys--the monkeys, not the barrel
pig ear (for Jimmy--obviously)
playstation controller
squirty fish bathtub toy
empty juice box
pieces of umbrella doll stroller Sophie cut to pieces
bra
zebra with head and 1 leg chewed up

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Tough. Sending her to her friend's house to play?

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph the burgeoning chef wants to cook things. In her play kitchen. All the time. She sneekes food out of the kitchen and into her room constantly. Doesn't care if she gets a time out or spanking either. She just keeps doing it.

32 Pick-up (Happy Birthday Mandy!)

In honor of my big sis's birthday tomorow, (it's my first day back full time at school, and the first day of the new semester tomorrow--so I probably won't get a chance to post) here are 32 random things about the queen of the Krause House. (Seems like not too long ago, I was so jealous of those 18 months she has on me. Not so much anymore. ;)

1. Don't get behind her at the salad bar. She's known to pick her lettuce a leaf at a time, and to consider with great seriousness every other item she puts on it.

2. When she orders a sandwich at a restaurant, she has to disassemble it, and then reassemble it with everything in perfect order, and in perfect balance.

3. She's VERY opposed to her eggs having ANY slime on them.

4. Girl can DANCE!

5. Mand won some impressive award for math in elementary school. Can't remember what it was, but it was a big deal.

6. Queen Krause is a big time reader. She introduced me to all of my favorites: Anne McCaffrey, Robin McKinley, Robert Heinlein, Tamora Pierce.

7. Not only that, but she's an excellent cook! My personal favorites are her brisket and tiramisu.

8. Her hands are very elegant and delicate to the point of looking and feeling very fragile. Whenever I hold her hand, it makes me want to put some mittens on them to protect them.

9. She enjoys the "good stuff." cashmere sweaters, Tanguray gin, salon hair products, etc.

10. Mand has been practicing yoga for 10ish years, and is currently working toward becoming a certified yoga instructor.

11. She is a cookie decorator extrordinaire.

12. When we were little, we both complained that we had been given no middle names. Dad dubbed her "Amanda Lou Gene." I only recently realized that one of the reasons "Sophie Gene" resonated with me so deeply was because I was giving her Mand's pseudo middle name. (In case you were wondering, I was/am Rebecca Sue Ann.)

13. Mandy rarely, if ever, looses anything. (Unlike me. I've turned loosing things into an art.)

14. Once when she got a speeding ticket, she waited until the middle of church, and told my dad about it via a note. Pretty clever, actually. During the years that she and I were stuck in church together, we filled up the program with notes (how I wish we had saved those) and played thousands of rounds of the "dot game."

15. Her lips are perfectly shaped.

16. Traveling makes her irregular.

17. She and I dated at least 10 of the same guys--but rarely simultaneously.

18. She looks amazing in red.

19. Enjoys listening to raunchy hip-hop music.

20. Is a huge Prince fan

21. Hit a rocky patch where she dated several unsavory--and unworthy guys, one of whom went by "Griz"

22. Has never been a smoker of cigarettes

23. Thinks the Wiggle Anthony and Joe of Blues Clue's are kind of cute

24. Enjoys Ben and Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream

25. Is a darn good skier

26. Likes graham cracker sticks dipped in strawberry cream cheese.

27. Mandy helped me pay for my first car.

28. Has become an excellent painter (of walls and such)

29. Has fond, rather than nightmarish, memories of middle school.

30. Worked the drivethrough at McDonalds for a while during college

31. Was actually married AFTER her little sis (I married 7 months before she did)

32. Never cleans her plate.

So--I've inevitably left the most important things out. If you know Madame Krause, leave a detail or two in the comments here, and of course, drop by her blog today or tommorow to wish her a happy birthday!

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Blowing raspberries in her belly button

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
That girl will not listen. I told her she could NOT get into my nail polish yesterday. Today she painted the bathroom wall with it while I blogged this list. Then--after I spanked her butt, she sobbed, "It was a present for you Mommy!" This as after last night, when she drew all over the table with green crayon and I told her crayons and markers and paint are for PAPER ONLY. (An update, 30 minutes after I posted this--purple marker, on her bedroom wall. I don't want to beat my child--ok, I kind of do--but I cannot figure out a way to get her to DO WHAT I SAY. I think she's doing all of this on principle. I'm totally stumped.)

Fun with soap and water

This is a little set up that is a combination of 2 montesorri activities Soph LOVES at school. I just gave her a cookie sheet, 2 containers of water with a drop of food coloring, some dish soap, a whisk (a rotary beater would be MUCH better) and a turkey baister. Here that moms? Soap and water. She had fun with this FOR EVER! Yes, it was a bit messy, but most of the mess stayed on the cookie sheet, and as for the rest, it's soap and water for cripes sake.

Fun things that she discovered to do were: move the water from container to container with the baister, use the whisk to make bubbles and, (one I hadn't envisioned) use the baister to BLOW BUBBLES! I actually wanted to give that a try, but she wouldn't relinquish the baister, so I just had to go back to cleaning the kitchen.

In a much messier turn of events, Soph had a little pantsless pizza making party the other day. It was one of those times where I was being totally clueless, and she was going about her business, until I stopped and went--"Hmmm. It's awfully quiet in here. She had taken the flour out of the pantry, put it in a bowl (and all over the floor) added some water, and voila! Pizza dough! I'm not exactly sure how the pantslessness came into effect, other than I can never get that kid to stay completely dressed.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph and I made bird feeders today. You know--the kind you made in kindergarten when you spread peanut butter on a toilet paper tube, and then rolled it in bird seed? Anyway--that was kind of fun.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
If I pick up ONE more tiny bead from the Polly Pocket Beading Machine I may go mad.

Take 5

Just a quicky response to a tag from grody jodie. The topic--5 weird things about you--that is me, um, you get it.

1. I love to pull out my eyelashes, and have to try really hard not to. When I get very stressed, I can't help it, and end up with bald patches on my eyelids.

2. I am the fastest reader I know. I mean, super fast. Like--I am a super hero in this regard.

3. I vacillate between thinking I am the hottest thing ever on 2 feet to thinking I am Jaba the Hut's fraternal twin sister several times a day.

4. I know all the words to every pop song released between 1980 and 1990. (Only a slight exaggeration.) This is not because I like them. It's kind of a Rain Man thing.

5. I'm an English teacher, and I suck at spelling.

More from Sin City

In a highly unfair twist of mechanical mayhem yesterday, my computer was BROKEN. Luckily for me, my husband is both super sexy and super clever with hardware. Apparently something was majorly fucked-up with the hive. Now--I know I've been hearing some buzzing, but hive? Anyhoo, he fixed 'er up, and now, I shall recommence the tale of the Vegas trip--and throw a few other morsels in here and there.

So--Saturday morning, I woke up and realized that if we left at 9:00, which was my plan, with the time change from Utah to Vegas, we'd arrive at 11:00 Vegas--2 hours before our lunch date. I blame genetics. My grandmother leaves for things DAYS before, and my mother (although she's getting much better) can barely take a shit without an intinerary. I called Kods and Katy, and suggested that we leave at 10:30 rather than 9:00, to which they both answered something like, "Yea, I wondered why we were leaving so early." Fuck girls. You have to let me know when I'm being neurotic. I can't pick it up on my own anymore.

So--after a couple of false starts, we headed down the freeway. I had burned us a couple of great singin' in the car CD's (Allison Krause, Patty LaBelle, Joan Osbourne, etc.) and we rocked the miles away.

Whether I want to admit it out loud or not, I have lived most of my life in a small southern Utah town, and Vegas traffic is a bit scary for me. When stressed and driving, I tend to sing to other drivers--so we merged from I15 to the 95, me singing "Moooother fucker! Let me meeeerge! Fuuuck-o-rama! You drive like my aaaass!" Because map-quest is apparently run by monkeys, or at best, lemurs, I had a bit of trouble getting us to the meeting place (Memphis Barbecue) but eventually made it.

That's when my nerves started up. I wanted Patrice to think I was funny--cool--nice--quirky, but knew in my heart I would come off as a fat boring fraud. Then I started to worry--when she comes in, should I hug her? Is she a huggy kind of person? A handshake? Just hello? I began to wish that we had all brough lap-tops, and could just IM each other wittily across the table.

Luckily, when P and family arrived, things felt, I don't know, right. (The 2 screwdrivers might have helped.) Lunch was lovely, and although I probably over compensated just a little (ok--more than a little) I don't think I came off as a TOTAL spaz.

After lunch, I at least, wasn't ready to say goodbye--so we all headed back to the Paris (Kodi behind the wheel, as I was just a TRIFLE inebriated.) We met in the casino, wandered for a bit, and then Kods, Patrice, and I headed off to do some gambling. I stuck a ten in the video poker, chose deuces wild (my favorite) and some 10 minutes later, was the proud winner of one hundred smacks. My favorite part of the day was when, after I had cashed my voucher, Patrice nudged me and said, "Remember that time we were in Vegas and you won a hundred bucks?"

Fuck, I have so much more to add, but E's great grandmother died, and I have to go get ready to sing at her funeral. (I'm not insensitive. She was ninety-million. Not a surprise or anything.) More later.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph keeps requesting that we listen to the "Chicky Chicky Ya Ya" song. Lady Marmalade. Yes.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Caught her giving herself a hair cut AGAIN this morning.

Leavin' Las Vegas

Just got back from our rendezvous with Patrice and Fam in Vegas. Will post in detail tomorrow night after work--but wanted to say a few things while they're fresh.

Patrice is SO NICE!!! I was worried I wouldn't be quite as cool as she is, or that things would feel weird, or that we'd wish we'd just kept being blog friends. It felt oddly like we were going on a blind first date with 4 adults, 2 tweens, and one baby, but after about 20 seconds, it was totally comfortable. Bella is the sweetest little pixie I EVER did see. Trent is a doll--with the nicest voice. Sean couldn't be more friendly, (the word cordial comes to mind for some reason.) And Patrice? Dude. Looks you in the eye when she talks to you. Is funny--smart--pretty--and did I mention, SO NICE!

So--a play by play tomorrow, where I highlight our lovely lunch (who knew deep fried pickles were SO DELICIOUS) and relate how I won ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS!! (It was actually 103.25.)

Me singing Delta Dawn

OK--So this is just me singing into the phone on Audioblogger so that those of you who think you don't know Delta Dawn will go, "Oh yea--I remember that." Please refrain from offering me recording contracts, as I am very happy as an underpaid and underglamorous public ed teacher. Thanks.

Ramblings

I fucking love the song "Delta Dawn." Don't hate me too much, but whether it's Helen Reddy or Tanya Tucker, I will sing the shit out of that song all night long. In fact, that's what I've been doing. Sitting at my computer, playing ZamBeeZee, the Media Player playing Delta Dawn over and over again.

Shit--Erik just came up and he's not going to be ok with either the Delta-Dawn-o-rama or the ZamBeeZee, or the Helen Reddy for that matter. Oh well. Fuck it.

So--Images from the last few days.

Sophie, sitting on the toilet, naked, a Scooby-Doo band-aid hanging off of her chin, talking into a pair of nail clippers like they were a cell phone.

Erik, laying on the couch, exhausted with me, the world, and everything.

Mandy--across the booth from me at Sullivans eating buckwheat pancakes.

Soph again, naked from the waist down, running through the house yelling "My pants are KILLING me!"

Janzen, brows furrowed, playing foozeball as though it were the fooze finals of the universe.

Mandy at Walmart, helping Soph and I find the perfect place mat to fit into Soph's lunch box. (It's a montesorri thing)

It's been a kind of surreal week or two. The holidays always give me that weird feeling that the world only exists as a bizarre setting to see just how fucked up it can get me. Sometimes in a good way--sometimes bad.

Soph had her first day at Montesorri today. (Note to self: learn to spell montesorri.) I think (she said knocking on wood) that it is going to ROCK! Imagine, a lovely remodeled house, with kid sized tables, 3 loving teachers, and trays and trays of "work." Example--2 beakers with purple liquid, a turkey baster, and a sponge. 3 year old heaven!!! Or if you'd rather, a box of locks, and a box of keys, ready to match and open. Would you rather cut? How about little strips of colored paper all ready to snick and snick. Blocks more your speed? Why not put some together on the floor, then see if you can get a marble to roll down them? Where as in the past, Soph would run to me and grab my legs when I picked her up, today she absently said "Hi mom" and went on sweeping little pieces of foam into a square taped on the floor.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Seeing your little girl HAPPY!

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
The battle of the pants

No, I'm not pregnant and

No, I'm not pregnant and he's not Jesus. However, yes, that is a Chihuaua. 

"Delta Dawn, what's that flower

"Delta Dawn, what's that flower you've got on. Could it be a faded rose from days gone byyyyyyyyyy?"