So it's been a couple days since my last post... days, years, whatevs.  Let's not dwell on my absence and carry on, shall we?

In the last "couple of days" not much has changed.  We all got older.  The oldest spawnling is now 22 and the youngest is FINALLY in double digits!  I feel like I should have thrown a party for Andy and myself... like a "We Made It" kind of gig.  Seriously.  Parenting isn't for the weak of heart; and the little vultures blessings just keep draining us of every penny and morsel of accomplishment filling our hearts with delight.

Andy still works where he works.  I still work where I work.  We've probably got more grey hair, and more fat cells, but other than that... we are us.  Unapologetically us.  Blissfully happy us.  Except when I want to choke him or push him down, supremely in love... us.

So there's that.

And now I want to introduce you to the newest member of our family.  He's the one in the middle, not the old fart in the back.  That's Andy.  More grey huh?  Yeah, he blames that on me and the kids.  Pffft, excuses excuses.  That gorgeous American Bully in the middle is Dupree.  And no, not You, Me and Dupree kind of Dupree.  More like Marcus Dupree... the best that never was.  Please don't confuse the two.  Andy will be extremely offended.

He's my favorite.  I heart him.  Like a lot.  A super lot.  More than my children some days.  Kinda.

Anyhoodle, I bid thee farewell... for now.  I'm going to stalk some blogs and see who is yapping about what out there.

Ummm, Wrong Office Dude

So, funny thing happened at work today...  I am an office manager at a private practice for mental health.  Counseling.  That's our business.

Last summer Boss Lady bought a new building (an old house) and we have made this our primary location for business.  Before we were here this a non-profit organization offering services related to pregnancy and alternatives to abortion.  They were here for more than a decade. 

Anyhoodle, in any given week I get at least one straggler coming through the front door looking for a pregnancy test.  Usually there is limited conversation.  They walk in, ask if this is where they get a pregnancy test, I tell them nope and send them on their way.

Today was a different day.

I work alone most of the time.  Most of the time it's fun.  I blare the music and have complete control of the thermostat.  It's nice.  Boss Lady comes in when she has clients but they quickly go back to a therapy room and stay in there for an hour at a time.  So even when she's here I'm basically alone.

Well, it was about 1:30 this afternoon with a tall scraggly looking teenage dude comes walking in along with what appeared to be a teenage girl.  I didn't have anyone on the schedule.  Dude had hickies all around his neck, wrinkled t-shirt, hair that looks as if he rolled out of bed and kept rolling until he got here.  The girl had thankfully brushed her long, brown hair and she was much quieter.

Here's the convo that sealed up my week:

Me:  Hello, can I help you?

Dude:  Is the counselor here?

Me: (perplexed b/c I didn't have anyone on the schedule and I don't recognize these folks) She's on her way.  Did you have an appointment?

Dude:  My mom told me to come here.  For some test.

Me:  (Knowing we do all types of testing - for psych reasons, I'm intrigued)  Ok, what's your name?

Dude:  It's not for me, it's for her. (He points to the girl)

Me:  Ok, then what's your name? (I'm looking at the mousy girl at this point b/c goofball is answering exactly what I'm asking, but I need more info)

Girl:  mumbles some name that I cannot for the life of me recall, probably because I'm traumatized at how the rest of the conversation goes...

Me:  Are you needing pregnancy testing?

Girl:  No.

Dude:  I don't know what the name of the test is called, but the other day when I woke up there was blood in my pee...

Me:  STOP!  (I raised my hand up to him like I was singing "Stop in the Name of  Loveeee")  I don't need to hear anymore.  This office is for mental health.  Not THAT kind of health.  

I redirected this young couple about 1/2 mile up the road to where I hoped they would find some answers to his.... issue. 

Sharing is caring.  Your welcome.

Monkey Boy Speaks from the Heart

A funny little scene... We were on our way home from Buffalo Wild Wings.  All six of us are comfortably piled in Andy's big ole truck.  Andy is driving with Monkey Boy next to him and then me in the front row; DD, Brainiac and Nisha are situated in the backseat. 

Monkey Boy, just as serious as he could be, starts the convo:

MB:  Dad, For some reason I really want to go to Party Galaxy.

Andy:  (confused) What for son?

MB:  (hand over his heart preparing to profess his undying love) The go-karts are in my heart to drive them.

*The girls and I exchange glances.  We all smile and try to hold in the giggles.*

MB:  I seriously need to drive.  It's in my soul!

After we finished cracking up at his super dramatic and very, very serious request to ride go-karts, we told him as kindly as we could that Party Galaxy was in fact as party supply store and he probably was thinking about Celebration Station.  

He's so awesome!  Love that kid!

Hmmm, nearly 3 years since my last post lol

So I'll just jump right back in.  Still married.  Still have 4 kids.  Still deliriously happy.... yada yada.

Funny Story:  Andy and I are with Nisha, the oldest child (now 19), at some Chinese buffet grabbing a bite for lunch.  Well, under the fancy glass table top is a paper Chinese astrology thing explaining all the animals and the year of birth connecting one to an animal.  I apparently am a Tiger.  Who knew.

So the blurb on it says something about what a dynamic personality I have and how much fun it is just to know me.  Last line says who the best love match is for a Tiger and sums it up with "Stay Away from the Monkey".

Naturally Nisha says, "Mama, what is my daddy?" 

Pause:  For those who may have forgotten the existence of my family in the last three years due to my criminal neglect of blogging, Nisha is a grand creation from a previous marriage. 

I say, "A Monkey."

Moral:  Not only should you research the genetic predisposition of your mate prior to marriage and the creation of new life, it would be prudent to also take a peek into your future at your nearest Chinese restaurant. 

Random Tuesday Thoughts

 

So it's been a couple weeks since I promised to start blogging again.  I suck at this game, but I've been in my "empty box".  And I like it there.

I start my new job on Monday and I'm super excited.  I hadn't planned on going back to work outside the home for another couple years, but I think I've found the perfect job for me... so it's a good change.

My loving Andy and I were at church for the Stupid Bowl Party on Sunday.  I saw a lady with a haircut similar to mine and said something like, "Her hair looks almost like mine."  Andy's response:  "All middle-aged white ladies have haircuts like yours."  To add insult to injury, he further explains by stating, "It's like when I bought my truck... I didn't notice all the blue Dodge's until I had one." That explains the dual-cab sized behind I keeping dragging around with me.  Thanks Andy.  Love you too.

Mark Gungor is a genius.  Pure genius.  And he's pretty funny too.  Andy and I joined a small group thing at church where we discuss Gungor's Laugh Your Way to a Better Marriage DVD's.  According to Gungor, men's brains are filled with tiny, single-task oriented boxes.  There is a box for work, a box for cleaning, a box for sports, a box for sex (that box is probably bigger than the rest) and get this... there is a "nothing" box.  When they are done with the task at hand, let's say changing the oil in the car, they close the box, put it back where it goes and proceed on to the next box.  It's important not to interrupt them while they are in a certain box because they won't retain a word you've said.  I believe that.  Especially when they are in the nothing box.  And there really is nothing in there.  N.O.T.H.I.N.G.  And they won't let us in there to see what it's all about because they think we will want to throw some paint on the walls, put up a curtain or two and add a nice throw rug.  Yanno, to make it more cozy.  So the next time you ask your dear husband, "What are you thinking about" and he replies, "Uh.... nothing," it's probably true.  Don't fret.  Soon enough they'll put that stupid little nothing box away and get out another one.  

Andy bought me a ginormous bag of peanuts from a street vendor the other day.  And I love him dearly for it.  Now I can sit on the couch, stare at the TV and hork down 5 lbs of peanuts.  My theory:  If he gets a "nothing" box then I get an "empty box".  I've come to adore my empty box.  It's like taking a mental health day, only shorter.

I have a love/hate relationship with tax time.  I love that we still get refunds.  We might even pop out a couple more kids just to ensure the money keeps coming in.  Kind of like life-long welfare moms having babies to get a raise.  It works for them.  The only problem is tax time comes right after Christmas time.  That's stupid.  It should be during the summer, say July, when we take our Florida vacation every year.  Not when we are still playing catch up for going overboard buying Christmas presents for every kid in Oklahoma.  Perhaps if I didn't expect a refund I wouldn't spend so much on Christmas.  Wishful thinking, I'm sure.  It just seems every year we end up paying off things instead of getting to treat ourselves to a new fridge (one that closes without hurling 200 pounds of body weight against it), or a new livingroom suite (one that doesn't have springs stabbing you in the rump from a houseful of folks plopping bodies on it), or even a new bedroom set (preferably with mattresses that don't squeak so the kids won't hear about "mommy and daddy time").  

I've often wondered something.  I'll be in the livingroom playing working on the computer with my back to the TV, but I'm still listening to the program that's on.  Andy will come in there, snatch up the remote and change the channel to something sports related without a second thought.  Bleh.  But when he's in bed and he hears me coming down the hall on my way to bed, he hurries up to turn the TV on George Lopez or Roseanne because he knows I love those two shows.  Why doesn't that same thought process apply in the livingroom? 

That's all for my random thoughts.  I should probably get some work done today.  

Toodles.

What I Meant to Say Wednesday

Excuse me normally funny person who I usually love to be around, remember when I said abso-friggin-lutely nothing the other day when I was over at your house and you were ranting about mean kids, specifically one of MINE!?!?

What I really meant to say was:

Even though you are 300 lbs and 6 foot 4, if you don't take a big swig of shutthehellup your super-sized Jack and Coke I'm going to climb up that massive body of yours and punch you dead in the mouth! Repeatedly. Until I see blood.

How dare you point fingers at my obnoxious angelic child and blame her for TWO things, when one was clearly done by another kid!!! Not to mention they ALL are acting just like... well, just like K-I-D-S!!!!

How dare you rant on and on about it like her quick-to-pounce, spider-monkey nonviolent mother wasn't even in the room!!!

How dare you act like this when her father, in another room tending to YOUR children, wasn't there to choke you out!!!

How dare you insult the perfect parenting style of myself and my husband because we don't SCREAM incessantly at our children instilling fear to their very core!!!!

I think it's time you find another babysitter, my dear friend, because apparently the 10 frigging hours I spend each and every weekday of my life taking care of your two demon precious spawnlings, who happen to actually listen to me and then turn into little hellions the instant their mom walks in the door, isn't proof enough of my impeccable parenting methods. Yes, my friend, I think it's time because I quit!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. That felt so darn good!

You know you want to join in on the fun at Chief's! Go ahead... it's free therapy!

Science and Sex Ed... Hmm

I know... it's been a month since I've posted. After reading this post I can only pray the blog-Gods forgive me for my absence. Trust... it's funny.

So yesterday I get a two calls from the school of eldest child, age 15 and thoroughly enjoying her first year of high school. I'll save the call from the principal for the another post, but the first call was from Ms. Hensley, the science teacher.

Science just happens to be Nisha's first class of the day. Blah. Who wants learn all about scientific discoveries and technical terms at precisely 7:41 am five days a week?!?! I can feel her pain. Kind of. I don't feel the pain of the child who already has FOUR missing assignments this semester and barely passed a test when she's only been back to school after Christmas vacation for TWO weeks!!!

So I inform the lovely Ms. Hensley this problem will rectified the very next time she is graced with Nisha's presence -- rest assured -- and hang up.

Of course, after school Nisha is just as delightful as ever and carries on with her normal activities of snarfing down a couple hot dogs and planting her ample behind on the couch to catch up on her DVR'd Maury episodes. She just can't wait to see who the baby daddy is... or isn't. We have a screaming match pleasant chat about exactly why her science work isn't being turned in and what's her reply??? "I don't know." Ex-ca-use me. You don't know? Why don't you know? You attend that effing class each and every morning, know about the assignments, know your teacher gave you until Monday to get them all turned in and yet you don't know. I just don't get it.

So, being the meanass ever patient and loving mother that I am, Nisha is forced to get out her homework and get it finished. She gets out her book and papers and gets busy. Shortly after she's having a complete conversation with herself. Normally she saves these conversations for the bathroom. She'll walk in there, shut the door, and talk to herself in the mirror. That's normal right?

She didn't know I was listening, obviously, and if I wasn't it would be held against me later. She told herself she wasn't going to do the homework and she'd just ask a friend for help or get her teacher to help her, and shuts the book. Oh no, that's not going to work little sister. After telling her I was going to punch her in the head if she didn't straighten up gentle persuasion she opened the book back up and I decided to help.

So we get to the thermal expansion section of her textbook.

Science Lesson: For those of you nonscience geeks, it's like when the red or silver line in a thermometer rises when heated. I know. We all thought it was magic and the little red line just floated up to the right number. Actually, the red or silver line is either alcohol or mercury (which expand when heated) and because they have nowhere else to go as the temperature rises, the go up. Fancy huh?

Well, because Nisha isn't the brightest bulb in the box I try to explain things in a nonscience way so she'll understand. And the only thing I could think of was...

ready?

no, I mean are you really ready for this???

a weiner

That's all I had people. A weiner. I couldn't, for the life of me, come up with ANYTHING else on this God-forsaken planet that gets bigger when heated???

So I proceeed with my science/sex ed lesson by saying:

Me: I guess it's kind of like a weiner.

Nisha: (gasp) Mama!

Me: Well, it starts out small and as it heats up it stretches out and gets bigger right? It has nowhere else to go but out.

Nisha: (ears and cheeks turning red) Mama!

Me: Thermal expansion is what happens when a dong gets excited. But you can't use that example in class, k? They'll call CPS on me and they'll take you away forever. Promise me you won't use that example! Promise!!!

So there you have it. That's my answer and I'm sticking to it.

(Disclaimer: Thermal expansion is not the real explanation for a penile erection and should not be used as a real example, especially in science classes. It should be saved for biology, obviously.)

Midnight Megaphone

So it's almost midnight and I'm perusing blogs instead of finishing the last chapter of this book. It makes absolutely no sense to me because once the book is finished, I get paid... and it's close to Christmas and being paid would be lovely. But no. Everything in my head is spinning so fast I can't concentrate on the Final Flippin Chapter!

Wanna know where my thoughts are?

I suppose I could share.

I get a call today about noonish from Andy's mom. I usually don't answer because I know she's just looking for him and will try his cell phone next. No biggie. Something told me to answer today. And I'm glad I did.

She's calm at first and asks who she's talking to (b/c apparently I sound like a man and she usually thinks I'm Andy when she calls). I tell her it's me and she immediately gets frantic. She's bawling on the phone, blubbering and I finally get it out of her, "My house has just been broken into! They've stolen everything, Christmas presents and the TV..." I stop her, tell her to keep calm (especially since Baby Love is over there) and call Andy. He's in a meeting of course... because that's what happens during every emergency. There is always some important business deal going down right when the family calls to report a pteradactyl in the backyard or something. Anyway, I simply tell Andy, "Call your mother right now, someone just broke into her house."

Andy, of course, being the "perfect son" heads straight to his mom's house, plays CSI guy and calms his mom down. A few hours later the police have come and gone, mama has a new door with steel reinforcements professionally installed and Andy is on his way home with the kids.

He's obviously upset. His mama is all of 4 foot 11.5 inches. She's just a short little, plump lady who wouldn't hurt a fly. She loves with all her heart and is completely devoted to her family. Her husband passed over 15 years ago she's never looked at another man. She still has birthday parties for him and celebrates his life, their lives together. She's an amazing person.

The middle son has graciously offered to hand over a wad of cash so Christmas will still be on for the kids at grandma's. An insurance claim will be filed of course, but it surely won't get here in time for Santa to deliver presents.

In my spare time (like right now, when I should be snuggled up next to my husband who will be leaving me in 2 short hours to go hunting) I was thinking... Mean People Suck! This is the time of year when people should be happy and smiling and giving and loving. This is the time of the year when fireplaces are lit and you can smell the chimneys through the whole neighborhood. And when kids are even watching the news to see if we will have a white Christmas.

This is also the time of year when the loser ass bullies are breaking into the homes of hard-working folks and rob their children of Christmas presents. And when thieves are everywhere, carefully stalking their next victim. When purses are held tight to the body and walking to your car alone in the dark after a shopping spree causes the heart to thump so loud you can hear it.

Which leads me to this... why is it people don't feel blessed until something bad happens? Everything revolves around Christmas presents. Do they even know why there is a Christmas in the first place? What this holiday really means? Andy said something to me tonight, I don't remember the exact comment, but my retort was, "Maybe this Christmas people should focus a little more on the blessings of health and family than how many Christmas presents are under the tree."

I wasn't being mean. He agreed actually. I'm guilty of not appreciating my blessings until a threat rears its ugly head. I am guilty of not teaching my kids the value of life and living a good life instead of fixing and pacifying them with material things. Sometimes it's hard to distinguish between bribing and teaching. And sometimes I'm just too lazy to fight about it, so I opt for the easy way out -- bribes.

My goal this Christmas season is to get closer to the basics and show by example how to bless others, instead of catching the kids counting how many gifts under the tree have their names on them and keeping some kind of tally to see who has the most. Andy and I seriously need to redirect our family so blessings are treated as blessings and gifts don't monopolize the meaning of Christmas.

And it took a robbery to hit me in the face. Pathetic.

Happy Tuesday Bloggyland

So I've been MIA for a while now and decided to get back to the blog world.

Quick update:

Still in school
Still writing (on my 3rd book now)
Still happily married and enjoying my wonderfully blended family

That about sums it up.

Andy and I went to see my family in Texas for turkey break and had a great time. I got my mama to say "shitload" and I giggled like a 4 y/o. Then my grandma asked Andy if he thought she was a "good Indian" or a "bad Indian". Way to put him on the spot granny. My mom helped me smuggle a ton of spices out of granny's kitchen (only because she buys industrial-sized seasoning bottles) and my car smelled like a restaurant for three days. Poor Andy drove all the way there and all the way back, let me get us lost on the way there, and was in bumper to bumper traffic on the way home. And because he bought me a power inverter so I could take my laptop and plug it in, I didn't pay attention to anything other than Sims3 and how far away Jack in the Box was. He's so good to me.

I still keep Big K and Baby K during the week for Andy's nephew and they are getting so big! Baby K is walking and talking and being a big girl. Big K is such a great big sister, except of course when she doesn't want to share.

Nisha is almost 16 and driving me bonkers about her drivers license. Poor kid. It won't be coming any time soon and she hasn't quite wrapped her head around that idea. Her neurologist wouldn't sign the medical release, said a family physician needed to do that. I found that particularly odd since she's had seizures for 15 years, had the same neurologist for 15 years... and they wouldn't sign the paper. Hmm.

DD was accepted into a college prep school this year and is doing so well! She was behind in the public school system and they are moving her right up to where she should be. By next year she'll be at least a grade ahead of the public school kids in her grade.

Baby Love just turned 5 and she's in school this year. She loves it! Such a fast learner too! And Monkey Boy is enjoying the days alone with his grandpa during the week because the girls are all in school. He's eating up the attention, and actually is much more calm when they aren't around.

Our custody schedule has changed a bit since Baby Love is in school and that part sucks, but we know it's for the best. DD and Baby Love stay with their mom during the week so they are in the same bed each night and have a dedicated routine for school. Monkey Boy gets to come over a couple times a week to stay the night and then we get all three of them every other weekend. Nisha is with us full-time and I don't think she'd change a thing. Andy has shown her in the past 2 years everything that a father should be and she's eating it up.

Andy's promotion at work has brought him closer and closer to the big-wigs and greater contacts at work. I'm so proud of him! I'm still plugging along at school and I don't think I'll ever be finished. I should get to start my degree program in the spring, and then it's another 15 months to get my BS from there. And my plan is to immediately start my Master's right after that.

So I think that's the recent rundown... I should probably get back to this book I'm writing. The quicker I get finished, the quicker I get paid. Although I have decided to start with the blogs in the morning to get my creative juices flowing. Can't wait to read up on everything I've missed over these last few months!

Have a great Tuesday bloggy friends!

I'm Writing a Book... and I Need Your Help!

Ok so if you read the last post, you'd know that I'm pursuing my career as a writer now.

I've been blessed with several awesome opportunities as of late and I'm enjoying every minute of it. Most of the things I write at the moment are ghostwriting jobs, which means I get no credit, do all the hard work, and then hand off my creation to someone else to make millions (ok millions might be a slight exaggeration).

So here's my latest big project and I really need some help guys.

I'm writing a lymphoma survivor case study. I need 7 survivors of lymphoma (Hodgkin and nonHodgkin) with various types of treatment; chemo/radiation, surgical, herbal, dietary and any other alternative method.

I need 7 people I can interview (online or off) who will allow me to write a chapter each on their entire process; from prediagnosis to remission. I would really like to use their names, the names of physicians, hospitals, etc., but I understand if they prefer that information be left out.

This book will be written as an inspirational guide for those who have just been diagnosed with lymphoma and I'm really excited about it. If I do a good job on this one, my client has promised many more projects like this in the future! So c'mon, help a budding writer out!

If you all or anyone you know is a survivor of lymphoma and would like to be featured in a book, please get back with me. I've joined several forums for cancer survivors and the likes for leads, but I'm opening the floor to the bloggyworld as well.

Thanks guys, any help is appreciated!