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!

LTNW: I'm Back....Again!

Long time no write peoples! I'm not sure if anyone still reads this blog... probably not since there's been nothing to read in AGES!

Things have sure been busy around here. I thought with summer ending and the kids getting back in school I'd have more time to devote to my blog. Ugh!

Here's the good and bad... just to catch up!

Good - I'm still in school and one day will have that blasted Master's degree! One day a long, long... long, long, long time from now... but I WILL finish!

Bad - I'm no longer a medical transcriptionist. After 15 years I've quit. I hate it. I've grown to despise doctors who eat and dictate, can't spell and can't pronounce drugs or general anatomy parts in a clear manner. And I'm not even talking about the ESL doctors, they are a friggin BREEZE! Plus - with emerging technology, my job is going to be eliminated anyway. My service got hit hard last December when a major hospital went to a "point and click" system in their ER; that was a multimillion dollar account. Then, three weeks ago I get a similar notice that we've lost another biggie. Not good. This was my bread and butter people!

Good - I'm pursuing my dream of writing. At 12 I decided I wanted to be a writer, but never went for it full force. It's a sink or swim world baby! I was a big fat chicken, I'll admit. But I had to count on money coming in and there was no sure thing with writing. Recently, I've been doing a lot of ghostwriting for a bunch of different projects. I'm getting my feet wet and I love it! One of these days I'll have my own books published and I'm going to need every single one of you to make a purchase. Thank you in advance.

Bad - My ex is still an idiot. I thought there was a statue of limitations on a stupidity-coma, but he's going on more than 5 years now and nothing has changed. There's still a heartbeat and a viable pulse, but it appears there is no activity "upstairs".

Good - My husband continues to surprise me on a daily basis. He's by far the most loving and devoted person on the planet and I can't imagine my life without him. I should pat myself on the back for stalking him. Job well done.

Bad - New drama unfolds with the dear hubby's ex and I'll be sure to enlighten you all soon enough. She's... well, uh... she certainly surprised me.

And on that note, I'll end the good and bad news update from my crotch of the US stance in the middle of nowhere Oklahoma.

So... We're Married Now!!!

We headed for Florida but with a new idea in mind. We decided instead of having a huge wedding at home to get married at our favorite place in the world... Anna Maria Island!!! Everything fell perfectly into place, and to tell you the truth, we couldn't have planned a more beautiful and perfect wedding!!! Along with the wedding as the highlight of our vacation, we also had a blast on the boat and jet skis, packed a picnic and played on the beach, saw dolphins and manatees right in the water with us, went parasailing, enjoyed a Yankees game where they smashed the Tampa Bay Rays, and of course, hit our regular bars for the dart tournaments and karaoke.

We were able to have our two oldest girls there, along with my sister, her Dick and her two youngest kids there as well. We hired an awesome lady, Rev. Georganne Butler, to perform the barefoot sunset ceremony, incorporating all four of our kids names, while the two oldest girls took their places on each of our sides. We found the perfect location on Anna Maria Island right in front of the Sandbar, a well-known restaurant in the area, who seated our party of 8 right on the patio area overlooking the gorgeous beach, just before sunset. My sister, the excellent photographer that she is, took some amazing shots.... here are a few!

During the ceremony...

The cake and champagne at the house...

The wedding toast....

All of us at dinner at the Sandbar... this was taken by Brian, quite possibly the best waiter on the planet!

This was after the ceremony and during dinner... we got tons of shots of the sunset in all its glory...

Truly an amazing experience. It was secluded, private, simple and delicious... Now no longer living in sin, I'd like to reintroduce myself to the bloggy world as Mrs. Andy.

Makin' Friends Monday

So it's Monday again. Bleh. I'm in a pretty grumpy mood this morning, and I'm sure I'll rant about that later... but for right now I'm going to try and turn my spirits around with Makin' Friends Monday! Woop woop! I played along last week and I got lots of nice comments from lots of nice blog peeps and really, who can be in a pissy mood when things like that happen?

So Kasey at All That is Good usually hosts, but I'm assuming she's still out galavanting the country and Mamarazzi has been kind enough to fill in. Go on over and check it out! They both have awesome blogs!

Mamarazzi asks us to name 5-10 of our favorite things, inventions or things that have changed our lives... this should be easy enough, especially since I'm an infomercial-whore and addicted to things that once I see, I'm definitely going to need.

Now obviously, as a perfect mommy and wife-to-be I wouldn't be able to maintain my throne without saying the my entire favorite things post includes only that of my four children and fiance. Without them, my life would be dreary and ugly and meaningless.

Ok, now on to the more important things:

1. Pepsi - this has been an addiction of mine for as far back as I can remember. Without Pepsi, my days are long and boring and caffeine-less. I don't drink coffee on a regular and I can't afford fraps from Starbucks on a daily basis, so something has to feed my crack-whore addiction. Nothing else I've found is legal, has the oomph to make me move my ample ass in the morning or tastes that dang good!
2. Google - I'm nosey and an information nutjob. I have this instinctive need to fill all this empty space in my head with random knowledge. My brain is a like a vat of useless information that some day might be of use when I'm a contestant on Jeopardy or Who Wants To Be A Millionairre. One day I'll be smart enough, but until then I'm going to google any and everything.
3. Plastic containers & Ziplocks - I know it sounds stupid, but think about it this way... if you have an entire cabinet full of plastic containers, you will never need to find a way to save left-overs, freeze meats if you buy them by the family pack and don't need to use the entire 7 lbs of hamburger meat at a time, a place to put all the hair ties that comes with having a family of 4 girls, a place for the crayons that usually end up under the couch b/c the stupid Crayola box never houses them quite right if you remove them only once, all the office/desk stuff (paperclips, thumb tacks, stamps, loose change, etc) that just doesn't have an appropriate place, the tween/teen pens and pencils that you definitely have to keep separated from the Crayons. Seriously, these things save my life on a daily basis.
4. Notepads - I'm a list makin' fool. I make lists for the lists I need to make. Like today, I'm starting my list of things I need to make a list for so we will be prepared to leave for our Florida vacay 10 days from now. I need to make a list of what to pack for each child, for the man (because I pack his stuff too), the fun-in-the-sun check list so we don't burn our asses on the uber-hot Florida beaches, the snack list for ice chest on the trip there, the grocery list for the snack list so I can make treats instead of spending countless dollars on shit for them to munch on in the car... the list-making never ends.
5. Lawry's. This is a serious addiction and Andy makes fun of me for this one. In my cabinet right now I have 5 large, unopened bottles of Lawry's Seasoning Salt and 4 large, unopened bottles of Lawry's Garlic Seasoning. It appeares that every single time I'm in the grocery store, this makes the "I may not need it right now, but eventually I will so I'm going to buy it" category. I use mostly these two seasonings on meat dish I cook and I think I'm scared one day I won't have any and dinner will be ruined. I even have one bottle of each, unopened, in the camping buckets (because we are prepared like that and have two, big ass camping buckets will all the seasonings, utensils, plates, a skillet, cutting board, knives, sunblock, hair-tie bag, floaties and a checklist of everything that we are going to need for the next camping trip).

That's all I can think of right now, but I'm sure my list could go on forever. They are simple things that make my life a lot easier... which makes life easier for Andy and the kids... See it's not all selfish. I'm thinking about them too. I mean seriously, their life is MUCH easier when Mama has her Pepsi-fix while she's writing down that she needs Ziplocks on her list of shit to get at dollar store, but not before googling to see if there is a more appropriate way to store all the trial size vacay shit that she's going to buy at wally world for the Florida trip so everyone has their OWN shit and Mama doesn't have to hear shit when the kids start griping about the other one using all the shampoo and shit.

Seriously, this shit makes my life easy!

Calling ALL BLOGGERS!!!

In lieu of the lack of responses to my previous request for help with my paper on Social Class in America, I've chosen a different subject... one that many of you may have personal experience with.

So again, I beg for help... and keep in mind, I could make you famous with my research paper and oral presentation (where I have to be all crafty and give handouts and use visual aids and stuff) for this class. I mean FAMOUS. Not bloggyland "Oh I mentioned your name" kind of stuff. We are talking royalties beyond our wildest dreams and book publications and public speaking opportunities and traveling and everything. Ok - that's all a lie, but I sure could use some personal experience stories to include in my paper.

This is the RMCH (Ronald McDonald Charity House) where we stayed in Ft. Worth. Yep - we were there for two weeks and let me tell you, there is nothing more amazing and awe-strikingly beautiful that I've experienced in my life. Since my stay at RMCH I've urged people if there is any charity in the world worth giving to, it would be there. An amazing experience.

Set aside the fact that my daughter, only 12 at the time who had dealt with a seizure disorder all her life, was in Cook Children's Hospital in Ft. Worth undergoing brain surgery. Set aside the fact that her TWO scheduled brain surgeries turned into THREE. Set aside the fact that by brain surgery, I mean cutting out a chunk of deformed brain cells in multiple spots and we wouldn't know if she was going to have neurological deficits like loss of speech, loss of motor skills, etc., until it was all over. Set aside the fact that Ft. Worth is the closest place (4 hours from my home in Oklahoma) that had a pediatric epileptologist and pediatric neurosurgeon available. Set aside the fact that we didn't know anyone in Ft. Worth where we could stay and 2 weeks at a hotel wasn't in the budget, plus meals and transportation and every other minor detail that you run across while out of town. And set aside all the anxiety, tears, worry, more tears, surgery after surgery after surgery, test after test after test, and everything else you might imagine would be involved in sending your child "under the knife".

Why set that aside? Because after staying at RCMH I realized I was one of the few mothers who would be allowed to take her child home in just a couple short weeks. I was the minority.

The families at this place were amazing. The staff was amazing. They have a full kitchen loaded down with food that is all FREE. They have a game room, a quiet room, a library, laundry facilities, WiFi and a computer with printer available for use in the lobby, a patio with picnic tables and a playground area for kids... and half the nights there was a local business catering supper. All FREE. Each family has their own bedroom, kind of like a hotel, only no maid. We had a TV, bathroom, dresser, two full size beds and a walk-in closet. All they ask in return is a donation -- whatever you can afford. The lady told me that some people pay $25 a night, some pay $10 a night, and some aren't able to make a donation at all.

I'm not a people person, and during the time I wasn't in the hospital room with Nisha, I walked over to RMCH to shower, change, clear my head and get some work done. I brought the laptop with me so I could work. While sitting on the patio pounding away on the laptop I overheard several of the conversations. One lady was there from another state with her son who had leukemia. She comes in once every couple of months and stays for a few weeks while he gets treatment, but this time his prognosis wasn't so good and she didn't think he was going to make it. Another lady, from some rural town in Texas, had her husband and another child at the RMCH while her terminally ill daughter was never going to make it out of the cancer ward. They were there to watch their daughter die. Another mother was there with her small, previously healthy toddler who suffered a traumatic brain injury and she would be wheeling her child out, never to walk or talk again. These stories just poured out of these ladies. They had all become family, a support system for each other. I stood back in awe.

I felt guilty. I didn't want to share my story with these ladies, even though they were looking at me, eyes wide with curiosity, to see if I was in their boat. I couldn't even say anything. I silently prayed for them and their children and left the table. How could I be so naive? How could I just walk around that place depressed and angry, like my world was crashing down around me, when I would get to take my baby girl home???

So -- here's my question for the peeps of the world:

Have you ever had the opportunity to stay at a RMCH or volunteer there?

Please share your story with me by email or on this post.

Iron Chef: July - Kids Cook!

First and foremost, I wanted to thank Heidi at Sacred and Profane for putting on this great contest! Go check it out for details. This month she's letting the kids take the wheel. DD, the 10y/o and Nisha, the 15y/o aspiring Pastry Chef, have chosen a super delicious dessert to prepare!

Here is our entry:

Banana Split Pie

1 graham cracker crust pie

1 can crushed pineapple

1 small container fresh strawberries

2 bananas

1 box prepared Jell-O pudding (Cheesecake flavor works best)

1/4 c. chopped nuts

1 container Cool-Whip

1 jar Maraschino cherries

Spread half of the Cheesecake flavor pudding about 1/4 inch thick on the graham cracker crust.

Slice both bananas into bite-sized pieces and layer on top of Jello.

Slice about 8 or 10 strawberries into bite-sized pieces and layer on tope of the bananas.

Drain the crushed pineapple and layer that on top of the strawberries (probably only need about 1/2 of the can)

Top with Cool-whip, sprinkle chopped nuts and dot with cherries.

Freeze for 30 min to an hour and serve.

The girls are making this again on Thursday evening because we snarfed down the one on Monday and I didn't get to take any pics.... so pics to follow!

School Again, School Again, Jiggity Jig

I'm totally soliciting opinions here for my class, and for my own mental health to see if I'm really living in some kind of Reality TV bubble and can't tell my ass from a hole in the ground.

First, keep in mind that I'm going to school for my counseling degree... (in my best Miss America voice) "in the end I hope to save the world, one person at a time" by walking them through whatever it is that lead them to my office, punching them in the throat and telling them to exercise SOME form of common sense. Kind of like Dr. Phil but with much more profanity and finger-pointing. Believe me when I say, I will vote for myself for the Best Counselor in America award. You can take that to the bank!

Tonight is the beginning of my first class since my wonderful month and a half break. My semesters are totally different than traditional college students in that I'm in an adult studies program and we go to school constantly. There wasn't an available class in May that I wanted to take, so I got to skip 6 weeks and enroll in my next five classes starting in July. God willing, this whole going-back-to-school-in-my-30s-idea will be worth it and I'll graduate with my BS (lol I love that term) in 2 more years. Then I'm back at it for the MS... I suppose after that I'll get a real job and join the real world lol.

So anyway, last night I'm doing my required reading in Class Matters (interesting read actually) for my Social Class in America class and I sparked up a little debate with Andy. I asked him to rank his family members (because they are all close knit but seem to be vastly different) in whatever social "class" he felt which they belonged. He went down the line of his brothers and nephews, 5 families total, and put them all in a social class. (For their sake and Andy's, I will not say who was placed where. I don't want to piss any of them off; I'm not actually married-in yet and they might try to beat me up.)

It appeared to me there was no method to his madness in classifying peeps. People who weren't homeowners but have steady jobs were put in middle class, and people who owned their homes, but weren't concerned about having extra money were put in low class. I didn't get it. So I asked him the reasoning he used. Apparently, Andy thinks of social class as the availability of money and little to do with possessions or appearance. He explained further; the people in middle class have the means to take care of a financial issue if it comes up (car needs a new engine, have to call an electrician or other service technician, etc.), and the people in lower class blow their wads, have nothing to show for it, and never have any money in their bank accounts.

Social class can be broken down into a million pieces; available health care, financial stability, homeownership, area of residence, community involvement, possessions, education, etc. I think the social classifications are totally subjective, because while some of these things mean something to me, they may not mean that much to anyone else. In addition, the geographic location tends to play a big part. In Oklahoma, we don't buy condos. It seems stupid to "buy" a residence where you share walls. But in a metro of California, it's common to buy a condo. And if you are able to purchase in Cali, you are doing pretty okay -- hence the assumption of a higher social class.

To me there is much more to climbing the ladder of social class. I don't need a personal chef to be upper-middle class because I like to cook and I don't like fancy shit. I don't need a BMW sedan to be upper-middle class either, because that isn't feasible with four children. I don't do $700 blouses and if I paid $400 for a pair of Jimmy Choo's, Andy would slit my wrists for me. What I need is home ownership in a rural area within a low crime area and excellent school district, financial stability, college funds for the kids, an investment portfolio, funds available to make a moderate sized purchase without thinking I'd have to sell my soul to the devil to get, and a six figure income. There's much more but you get the point. That's how I would classify being in upper-middle class. I'm no where near there. We live comfortably, but we aren't even close to my definition of upper-middle class.

For my research paper in this class, along with the dreaded oral presentation I propose some questions:

In which social class would you put your household and why?

Would you self-describe your social class as the same, higher or lower than that of your parents while you were growing up?

Disclaimer: For your consideration and privacy, I promise not to use your real name in my research paper, however if I make it big and some fancy magazine wants to publish my work -- all proceeds go directly to me and my non-existent social status. Thank you for your time.

RTT:

It's that time again! Go on over to Keely's at The UnMom, grab the button, feel up Mr. Linky and do the damn thang!

Here's how my mind is working today, randomly:

It's 8:53 and these kids are driving me bonkers. The older two are babysitting the smaller ones and apparently Monkey Boy has taken it upon himself to pay Big K back for stealing a toy by attempting to chew her arm off. So he's sitting right here, next to me, so close I could reach down and yank out all his teeth.

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School starts back tomorrow and this semester (knock on wood) looks like it's going to be a piece of cake. Social Class in America is my first class... pffffft... it's gonna be a breeze. One gripe I have though is why does every class have a flippin oral presentation. That's crap. Why can't I just write my research papers like any normal person and turn the shit it. Nooooooooo, I've got to do a research paper and prepare an oral presentation, provide a hand-out for the class bulleting everything I'm going to talk about in 5 minutes and pray I don't piss my pants.

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I haven't heard from my sister in three days. That means the heffa is out on some damn island somewhere via a fancy damn cruiseship snorkling and diving and having Pedro the cabana boy bring her some fruity umbrella drink, basically living it up while I'm hiding out in my garage from the 6 monsters in my house. Something is definitely wrong with that picture. Wrong!

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So Andy's new position at work seems to be keeping him entertained. He comes home and rambles about papers or somebody didn't get their papers back or some shit and I have no clue what he's talking about. I just smile and nod. He gets really excited about it though, so it must be fun lol.

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My laptop is a gonner. I'm pretty pissed about that. It had all my hijacked programs on it like Microsoft Office and the full version of Adobe. Now I'm screwed. I've messed with it and messed with it and I can't repair it. I'm either going to have to rely on the PCtards with the clown car to fix it or just blow the drive and start from scratch. Grrrr!

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Yesterday Andy (my pedicure givin' man) wakes me up like this: "Get up and fix me my coffee!"

Say what? I get up, pee on my hands a little and then go fix his coffee right up. One cup of coffee coming right up Sir! Then before bed I mentioned how rude he was in the morning.

This morning Andy (my pedicure givin' pissy coffee drinkin man) wakes me up like this: ____________

Wait! There's nothing there. Because that asshead didn't wake me up. His response to my attitude at being woken up like some petticoat wearing broad from Outhouse on the Prairie was to NOT wake me up at all.

Does that make any sense?

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I don't understand why our water bill keeps going down in the summer, especially since we are watering the garden 2-3 times a day now. Maybe we don't bathe enough.

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We went grocery shopping the other day. We took 3 of the 4 kids with us (Nisha was at my friend's house); 10, 4 and 3. So Andy's got one buggy with Monkey Boy and Baby Love riding in it. I've got the other cart trying to figure out what I've got a coupon for, comparing prices, browsing. I get out my coupons for salad dressing and try to find this Spritzer shit (that we don't use) because I want to try it out (solely b/c I have a coupon for it) and there is this broad standing right in the way. She's putting like 95 bottles of ranch in her buggy and leaning over right in my way. Finally I think she's done and she only moves her cart up about 7 inches. I look at Andy and sigh. I'm about to push her down so I can get my fancy flippin Salad Spritzer when she looks up at me. Our eyes meet... and she just stares. I'm like... kinda weirded out. She reaches down into her puss-pouch thingy and pulls out, I kid you not, 3409857345 coupons, all sorted and like ones stapled together. I've never seen anyone with 47 coupons for the same thing. She offers me a coupon for Kool-aid. She says, "They've got it on sale for 12 for a $1 and you only need 10 to get $2 off a bag of sugar, and they have sugar over there for $2 so it's like you get the sugar free." "Thank you kind Coupon Bandit," I tell her as I snatch up the coupon. She's out of the way of the fancy Salad Spritzer so I move in. Then... she comes back. "You like ranch dressing?" "Why yes, Coupon Bandit, we love ranch dressing!" So she gives me another coupon for $1 off a Kraft ranch dressing, which happens to be on sale for a $1. She gives me a lesson in coupon clipping and Andy asked me if I took notes. Andy hopes one day I'll be like the Coupon Bandit and save tons of money by buying 47 ranch bottles in one day and getting them all for free... minus the $1.25 x 47 that it cost for the Sunday papers. Either way, I saved almost $20 on the grocery bill that day. Nevermind that the bill was $400.

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There ya have it. My randomness for the week. Now go play along and Happy Tuesday folks!

Friend Makin Monday: BFF

So I ran across this thingamajig... well actually I've seen it a million time since I've been in bloggy land and been a complete lurker. Today I decided to participate.

There is this Friend Makin' Monday post (you guessed it, every Monday) By Kasey at All That Is Good (really neat blog BTW), but I think she's on vacay so Kelli at Outside My Kitchen Window (another neat blog BTW) is hosting this week.

Here's the idea: A question is posted. You post your response on your own blog and then leave your name with Mr. Linky. That's the hard part. The easy part is you get to read as many of the responses as you want, and post a comment on at least two. The whole idea is to get to know people a little better and make some new friends. We are bloggers and we all like friends.

Ok... so today's FMM question was about your BFF... how you met, how long ago, why is this person special... blah, blah, blah. You get the point.

First, let me start by saying I don't have many friends. Not anymore. Wait. Ok, let me rephrase: Since Andy has come into my life, I have redefined most people (with his "people are investments" attitude, read about it here) as acquaintences instead of friends. So the plethora of people who previously made the friend list has dwindled down to like 3. Pathetic.

As for my BFF... that's a hard one. I have a few very close friends that I would consider BFF's for different reasons. Andy is my bestest friend, and he should be, but I'm going to keep this to someone who lives outside my own home.

Like Nikki, she's been my friend since 9th grade and we were thick as thieves back in the day. She's been there through a lot of my ups and helped me pick up the pieces when I was down. She's always there with sound advice, even when you don't ask for it, and sometimes sounds a bit judgmental. But I know Nikki, and I know that her heart is in the right place. Regardless, she's been there... with me... through it all.

Then there's Della. I've been friends with her since 8th grade. She's a trip and I love her. She and I have been through some tough times. She's always there with a loving attitude and a heart so big you can feel it. She accepts the redneck side of me and when I need to getaway... it's Della's house I run to.

And lastly, I can't forget my sissy. She's WAY older than me (I love you sissy) and I didn't like her much when we were growing up. We have different dads and she lived with her dad for as long as I can remember. I only have few early memories of my sister, but when she was an adult and married off, we became a little closer. It wasn't until I was grown with a family of my own that we became really close. She is totally like me in many ways, and completely different in others. She has a level head when I need it, will listen to me rant, back me up when I need it and calm me down when I'm a little excited. When we are together, we laugh constantly. We can talk for hours on the phone on a daily basis and then go for three weeks without talking, call and pick up right where we left off. I love my sissy and I'm so blessed to have an amazing person like her in my life. I just wish she lived closer :(

Totally Great Giveaway at Cole's

Not Kohl's... but Cole the fantastic blogger at All the Small Stuff is having an amazing giveaway people!

Totally my favorite one... whoda thunk it? LOL

This Lilly Pulitzer journal is too cute right?

Real Coach wristlet baby! That's right!

(And she's got 2 others)

I love me some Strawberry bubblebath!

I must say, I'm now stalking Cole. Totally great giveaway! Go on over and sign up, and don't forget to mention my name :D

Wonderful Wednesday

I suck at coming up with catchy titles. Deal with it. I've just got a quick thing to share. Andy is the greatest man in the whole wide world and I love him to pieces.

Monday I sprained my wrist somehow and it's been a little difficult getting things done around here. Not to mention the children were evil all day long and I couldn't get squat done. I was near suicidal by the time Andy got home from work. He told me not to worry about a thing and he was going to take care of it. And let me tell you... HE DID! He cleaned the kitchen, including sweeping and moping the floor, did laundry, handled the kids, fed them dinner and everything.

I felt guilty b/c after dinner the Andi K, the 4 y/o, looks up at me and says, "I like your cooking." Let me break that down for you in 4 y/o lingo: that meant she wasn't happy with being fed leftovers and wished I would have cooked something. But I promised a good dinner the next night and she was happy with that.

Then Tuesday, he's at work and tells me he is going to come home and give everyone pedicures. Say what! I have a serious foot phobia, but we got this new foot bath thingy (free on craigslist in our dumpster diving episode... read about it here). Nonetheless, I told him I'd let him touch my feet. I actually kinda doubted that he'd follow through once he got home, especially since he took care of everything the night before so I could climb down the hysterical wall of suicidality I created.

This man is so beautiful! We go to Walgreens and he tells me to pick some smelly salts for the foot tub. My eyes go straight for a complete pedicure set, which is twice as much as the salts alone, and I bat my eyes and ask, "Can I get this one? It's the whole set!" His reply, "Whatever you want." Who wouldn't love that!?!?!?! Whatever I want! Yuppers, he's a keeper. As we head up to the register he stops by the nail polish. Cute huh? He picks out a really nice pink that all the girls' toesies will adorn. When is the last time YOUR man picked out nail polish for you?

I can't wait to be Mrs. Andy!