Top 5 reasons I haven't blogged (or commented)

So--2 weeks have gone by with hardly a post or a comment. Here are my top 5 excuses. Interestingly enough, some of them are the same excuses I've heard from my students a time or two.

5. The dog ate my computer. (Actually, he didn't eat the computer, but he did bite my cell phone charger in half. He also chewed the nose and feet off of Jacque. Not this one, this one. He also keeps getting out of the yard, I think to dally with the pit bull, Princess across the street. I keep telling E that he--Jimmy of course--needs his balls lopped of something fierce. Hopefully he'll call the vet soon.)

4. I had a doctor's appointment. (Ok. That's a lie, but Sophie had one--her diagnosis was bronchitis. I did hurt my back though--ripping the carpet off of the living room floor. Got a bit of a bee in my bonnet last Sunday. Other than 2 spots with some water damage, the hardwood isn't looking too bad. With this stupid back of mine, my shitty computer stool/chair does feel like a torture chamber.)

3. It's all the school's fault. (You see, they BLOCKED blogs and personal pages from all the schools computers. This really pisses me off, because people can still spend all fucking day forwarding bullshit jokes and religious aphorisms and chain letters to curse or bless you if you don't send them to a gagillion people, but I can't read a blog. Whatever.)

2. I didn't know what to write about. (Plus, I got the blogger guilts. I quit checking my blog, and those of others, because I hadn't in so long that I knew I'd have a ton to read and write about and comment about and so just treated the whole thing with the same attitude I treat my student loans. If I don't acknowledge it, it doesn't exist.)

1. I forgot. (You see, I was busy with something else. I said I'd never do it. I fought it off for literally years. Then a friend got me hooked. 2 weeks ago, I came home from a lovely afternoon of mimosas and more mimosas bearing Buffy, seasons 1-3. Fuck. So--everyone was right. Season 1 wasn't great, but was totally addictive. Season 2 was the bomb. Season 3 is even better. I'm to the one with the Hansel and Grettle stuff. Fuck. I can't stop. How many more seasons are there to go? At least with Firefly, only a week of my life was sucked away. Now--I may not get anything done for months. Oh, and Angel? Dare I say he's even hotter than Captain Mal? Yes. Yes I dare.

So--I plan to suck it up and get back on the old blogger wagon next week. E has been working on an apple lap-top for me, so soon I should be able to blog on the comfort of the couch or elswhere.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
She brought some tracing work home today. Looked to me like a triangle. So I asked, "Hey! Did you trace a triangle today?" She said, "No mom, you're wrong. I traced a triangular based prism." I shit you not.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soph informed me today that she has a boyfriend. Jacob. Bianca's brother. He's an older man--in kindergarten this year. I'm wondering if I should worry.

Low Comedy

E treated Katy and I to a mini spa day on Saturday. The treatments were lovely, as was the fondue we had for dinner, but the best part was, always happens when we two get to spend more than 5 minutes alone, my laughing muscles were absolutely burning by the time we got home. Damn, poop and rashes are funny.

So the day spa we went to offered "Colon Hydrotherapy." Now--I generally don't knock something until I try it, and maybe I should, as according to this guy what doesn't kill me makes me a funny mother fucker, but Katy and I share some concerns about the day spa/colon hydrotherapy thing. First of all, shouldn't, I don't know, a DOCTOR be the person hydrotherapizing my colon? I mean, I have all respect for esthetician, cosmotologists, massage therapists, and the like, but if you're going to stick a hose up my ass, I'd prefer that you have at least a four year degree. Second--I'm not completely sure about the set up, but I just can't imagine any setting, including one with a gently trickling water fall and white Christmas tree lights and new age music, where I could feel ok letting a stranger (or even someone I know, really) STICK A HOSE UP MY ASS. The third through 100th reasons have to do with what happens during and after my colon is hydrated, and the results there of.

On the way home, after exhausting the hilarity of colon hydrotherapy as a subject, we moved along to itching. Katy mentioned that itches have no purpose--and as such, should not have been part of creation. I argued that the purpose of an itch is to inform one of a rash, or infection, or other minor skin malady. Katy suggested that perhaps a noise like a hum or slight glow, or perhaps some other signal would be a better idea. Right. So I'm standing at work, in front of a dozen or so teenagers, mostly boys, and get one of those sudden, painful, very centralized cooter itches. You know ladies, the kind where you grit your teeth and don't scratch, but sort of internally howl and attempt to subtly shift around in a kind of kegelish way--like that will help. Only, instead of an itch, a blinding light shoots out of my crotch, or better yet, it goes off like a smoke alarm. No thanks. I'll stick with the itch.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
This wasn't today. It was Sunday. Are you sitting down? Sophie slept in until 9:00!!! Guess what that means? So did I!! Ah sleep. Sweet nectar of the gods.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Anamatronic Care Bear (Funshine) dressed as an aerobics instructor that sings "Let's Get Physical."

Sophie Saturday Morning Schedule

6:15: Wake up in mom and dad's bed. Remember fondly kicking mom in the back for half the night. Note mom's absence. Ask dad where mom is. Told sternly that mom is in my bed trying to get some sleep, and not to wake her up.

6:15-6:45: Strip down to panties and run shrieking through the house. Ask dad to get me a treat as he leaves the house to go get coffee.

6:45: squeal with glee when mom gets out of bed.

6:46-7:30: Sit on mom's lap watching "Dexter's Laboratory" and "Max and Ruby."

7:30: Sit down to breakfast of 2 raspberry Zingers and a cotton candy lollipop (good old dad) and a boiled egg and some grapes (freakin' mom).

7:30-8:00: Eat 2 bites of egg, one raspberry zinger, and 3 grapes. Then find some saltines in a bag on the table, and experiment with making cracker sandwiches out of remains of breakfast.

8:00-8:15: Clean up breakfast by dipping paper towel into my apple juice, wringing it out, and swiping it all over the table, repeatedly, and singing "Sing Sweet Nightingale." Cinderella's got nothing on me baby.

8:15-8:30: Sit on the counter and help mom load the dishwasher. Learn the game "Open your mouth and close your eyes and I will give you a big surprise." Wonder, why was I not taught this before? This is the bomb!

8:30-9:15: DANCE PARTY!! Drag bongos from bedroom to livingroom. Search for and find karaoke microphone. Dance with mommy (who looks very fetching in her pink mumu left over from when she was 9 months pregnant--wonder when she's going to do some laundry) to my favorite play list: Walk Like an Egyptian, Here Comes the Sun, Stayin' Alive, River of Dreams, Something to Talk About, Polly Wolly Doodle, The Tiki Tiki Tiki Room, I Love Rock and Roll, Lady Marmalade, You are My Sunshine, and Lollipop.

Status Quo

When you can’t think of anything else to say, you talk about the weather, right? So the sun has finally come out, and I may decide to go on living after all. For the last two weeks, we Southern Utahn’s have had nothing but snow, snow, snow, with a little sleet thrown in for good measure. Piles of snirt (snow+dirt) created by snowplows still dot the sides of the road, and the retail stores have been making a bundle blowing out snow blowers and snow shovels. Today’s sunshine though, according to weather.com, is not an anomaly, but the actual beginnings of spring.

In true bloggers-block form, I shall now present you, dear reader, (who was it that always said that—“dear reader.” Was it Ann Bradstreet?) with a series of lists.

Things that have not changed in the last week:

My house is still filthy—and smells vaguely of onions from the Mexican take-out we ate for dinner last night (guess that last bit is new.)

Sophie is still not sleeping well at night.

I still am fat.

Getting up every morning still sucks.

The dog still chews up everything. (His last victim was Soph’s Happy Meal prize—a Troll Doll that she loved and was very upset to see scattered in pieces across the living room floor.)


Things that have changed in the last week:

I swapped my contacts for glasses. My eyes have been killing me for months, so I thought I’d give them a break. The new glasses are kind of squarish and brownish and unless I’m being lied to by everyone, look ok.

Sophie knows the continents. The CONTINENTS for cripes sake. Apparently, Australia has been replaced with “Oceanna.”She sang them to me in a little song to the tune of Row Row Row your boat. I almost peed myself.

Soph has also realized her dream of being an actual “ropin’ cowgirl.” I took her to the Cowboy Gathering at SUU last weekend, and in the “Kiddy Coral” she was instructed by an actual, real life, ropin’ cowgirl on the basics of the lasso. With just a little help, Sophie managed to rope the steer dummy, and she was absolutely ecstatic.

My class sizes have doubled, thanks to a sting a one of the high schools. 3/4ths of the new kids are great. But, the 1/4 of them who are total little shits more than make up for that.

I bought a new pair of pants. (As I’m now down to 2 pair of pants that still fit, and am currently on a laundry strike, I was forced to race to Walmart on the way to school, grab a random pair of size 16 tan pants, and change into them from my sweats in the Walmart parking lot.)

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Being blown away by how smart my kid is

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
It’s freakin’ time consuming.

Happy birthday to Katester the Greatster!

In honor of Kate the Great, here are 23 things about Katy that you may or may not know.

1. She loves and collects fairies.
2. When she was little, her lovie was a purple pig. She decided it was a French pig, and named it “Brigitta.”
3. Katy can crochet the softest, most lovely scarf in all the land during the time it takes to watch a movie.
4. Her car is FILTHY on the inside.
5. She loves salty cheesy snacks.
6. When Katy was born, she weighed 10+ pounds.
7. She was almost named Rachel. In fact, that was the name they put on her name tag at the hospital.
8. She absolutely STOLE THE SHOW when she played Queen Agrivane in the high school’s performance of “Once Upon a Mattress.” (Her crown from the show lives in back seat.)
9. Peach iced tea is one of her favorite drinks.
10. When driving, she waits until the last second to hit the break at stop signs and stop lights.
11. Girl can SING. My favorites from her karaoke repitoir include “Natural Woman” and “Lady Marmalade.”
12. Her cookie decorating skills border on genius.
13. Katy spent one spring break in Tijuana. I’ll leave the details to her.
14. Her style of dress is very classical. She always looks very put together and tailored.
15. When Katy was rolling in the dollars while working at the bank, she’d sometimes choose to go by a new outfit rather than do laundry.
16. Her legs are longer than my dad’s, and he’s 6’1’’.
17. Ever had a pedicure from Katy? If not, you’re missing out. She gives the best pedicure I’ve ever had. Ever.
18. Katy has a gift for play. Her nieces and nephew sometimes fight over her.
19. Like her 2 sisters, she has a great rack.
20. Katy is more giving of her self and time than any person I’ve ever met. She looks for ways to make others happy.
21. Minnesota is the state where she was born.
22. Like her oldest sister, Katy looks DANGEROUSLY HOT in red.
23. TODAY IS KATY’S BIRTHDAY. WISH HER A LOVELY DAY HERE.

Soph in the snow 

Who's cold? 

Jim and Janz 

Careful Dad! 

Winter Wonderland 

Have your cake and eat it too

“We have an erotic bakery in Dallas.”

“How do you know?”

“Where do you think I got that chotch cake?”

Was the previous snippet of conversation worth 6 hours of sitting in the car, getting only 5 hours of sleep last night, and now looking toward an afternoon of sleepiness and Sophie? You bet.

My brother and his wife, who live in Texas, have been in the northern part of the state for about a week. Utah’s a big state though, so I haven’t been able to see him. Yesterday, my folks, Katy, Janz and I all drove 3 hours to meet Jon and Shannon for dinner—then turned around and drove home.

Whenever Jon and I get together, we become about 10 years old mentally, and end up laughing our asses off about farts, boogars, and poop. This trip was no exception. Dinner was ok—as far as food and conversation (the chocolate soufflé cake a la mode was better than ok) but a bit stilted. Families grow such weird dynamics over the years. But—back in the car (my parents Durango—otherwise known as the “Republican Cruiser) Katy and I started giggling about her job inventorying the supplies in the nursing classes, which lead to one thing, then another, and finally Jon and Shannon exchanging the words above. I laughed until my stomach ached and the tears were streaming down my face. Not just because it was funny—but because of the mixed company and their various responses to the phrase, “chotch cake.”

Soph stayed home with E. I thought of bringing her, but am SO glad I didn’t because she was in full on BRAT mode yesterday. The crying and whining and hitting and fit throwing surpassed normal levels by about a mile. I contribute her brattiness to lack of sleep, (that girl WON’T stay in her bed) sibling envy, (she LOVES Janz but hates to part with attention) and Monday going-back-to-school blues. Her new most annoying phrase is, “You’re wrong,” which she tells me about 80 times a day. We’ll be reading and I’ll say, “This is a stegosaurus,” and she’ll say, “No Mom. You’re wrong. That’s a spik-o-saurus.” Or we’ll be watching TV and the damn FLOAM commercial will come and she’ll beg for some and I’ll say, “Baby. Floam is just too messy,” and she’ll say, “No Mom. You’re wrong. Floam is great and clean!”

The weekend was ok—other than the freaking ICE AGE that appears to have settled over these here parts. Folks—we got almost 2 feet of snow. FEET! Now that’s just plain wrong. I hurt my back shoveling snow and so the house kind of went to shit—but it probably would have gone to shit even if I hadn’t.

Done.

Today’s best thing about being a mom:

Soph LOVES to put lotion on me. This morning we had a quick bath. After we got out, I just laid on the bed and she lotioned my back and legs and arms for me. I wonder how soon I can get her enrolled in massage school.

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:

Defending my make-up from the forces of Sophie!

T and A

Last night I couldn't sleep, so I swiped a Zanny from Erik. I should never do this because it takes about 24 hours for me to truly recover from one. So I woke up this morning groggy (the 2 inches of snow we got last night didn't help)--sludged through my shower, made Sophie's lunch, fixed her hair, etc., and trudged out the door to work.

As I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that for some bizarre reason known only to my zombified brain, I had grabbed Sophie's lunch box and taken it with me.

Obviously, I turned around and drove home to return it. When I walked in the house, I found E on the couch reading, clueless to the fact that his naked daughter had climbed onto the window ledge in the dining room and was industriously making prints in the fog on the window with her butt. She greeted me cheerily, "Hey! Look--it's my crack!"

Today's best thing about being a mom:

Soph's experimental phrase of the day has been, "One hundred per cent!" She just told me that she's "One hundred per cent full" of her "One hundred percent noodle soup." Earlier, she told me, "Mommy, I love you one hundred percent!"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:

Okay--this one may fall in the TMI category. 2 of her teachers have babies that they nurse at school. Several times in the last few days, she's tried to "get a drink" from my boob. I've explained to her that she's not a baby, and only babies get drinks that way, but she's been annoyingly persistent. Kind of lost on this one.

Step by Step

Now that Sophie is past the 3 1/2 mark, the changes in her are more subtle. Not fewer and far between necessarily. Just--different. It's not like "Lordy! She just rolled over!" or "Hooray! She's eating solid food," or "Shit and fuck! Her diaper just exploded!" There seem to be fewer singular events to report on, and the days are a bit more fluid. Yes, we have many many milestones yet to reach, but lately things have just kind of mellowed.

She's still experimenting with her vocabulary. This week she's added the phrase, "ages and ages" as in, "Mom, will you lay by me for ages and ages?" Or, when I told her that Katy was sick and might need to get a shot, she said, "Oh no! She's been feeling better for ages and ages!" She's also throwing in "because" all the time in this quasi-snotty voice--and somehow working in 2 extra syllables. I'll say something like, "Honey please don't pour your drink on the dog," to which she'll answer, "I have to be-cu-u-us he needs a shower."

When we're out in the world, she insists on getting in to and out of the booster in the car all on her own, and gets super pissed if I so much as open her door. She's super chatty in the car, and tells me stories about all her adventures. "So--Mom--today Nicole called me 'Tophie' and I said, 'No! I start with an S and Mrs. Esplin said, 'Sophie, Nicole is still learning the S sound' and I said, 'Well, I start with an S so blah blah!' and Mrs. Esplin told me to sit on the line." She notices the stop lights, and gets very pissed if I turn right at a red light.

She's also started this funny ritual at bed time. One night, she was worried that she would have a bad dream. I said to her, "Why don't you have a dream about going to visit Cinderella at her castle?" Since then, before going to sleep, she asks, "Mom, what will I dream about?" and I have to create this intricate scenario for her--which she interrupts and corrects frequently--and as far as I can tell, she DOES dream about what I tell her. At least that's what she reports in the morning. Weird.

Currently, she's making jewelry with pipe-cleaners and beads and watching Blue's Clues. (This works great! The pipe cleaners hold still and the beads don't slide off because of the fuzz. You can just twist them on, then untwist them and start all over again. We tried using yarn, but she just got too pissed off.)

Today's best thing about being a mom:
It's so fun watching her get excited about the coming of spring. Wherever we go, she's on the lookout for flowers. "Look Mom! Sprouts!!" My parents have a pussy willow tree in their back yard, and Soph's pretty sure that it's a hampster tree. Whenever we go over, she has to go pick a few "baby hampsters" to put in her pocket.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Lately, I can't seem to balance my 3 main jobs; mom, teacher, wife. Whenever I seen to be doing ok in one area, I fall flat on my face in another.

More of the same

Big sigh of relief. School is over for the day. This is the time of year when the drama goes into full effect. When the weather starts to warm up, the kids go absolutely nuts. They’re in and out of detention, throwing temper tantrums over having to take their hats off, (a rule I abhor but have to enforce. I have so many other fucking battles to fight. I don’t need administrators creating even more!) and generally starting shit with each other at each and every opportunity

The weekend was very nice. Saturday evening I took Soph with me to an art showing of Montana Black’s work at Sage Hills Om Ranch—my yoga teacher’s home/events location/b&b.. I was hesitant to take her, because it was a very adult (not in a porno way) event, but she was very good—loved the art—got a huge kick out of the edible flowers on the fruit tray—and is still talking about the donkeys we passed on our way there. I bought a print of a very wise looking desert tortoise called, “The Sage.”

Saturday night was fun—games and adult beverages. A friend is participating in a documentary called “The Winter of the Beard”(He’s agreed not to shave for 6 months. I think he’s in month 4. Very Grizzly Adams.) and brought a video camera along. He started filming—and the drunk-ass at the party (that would be me) jumped up and hollered, “Hey! Want to see my pits? I haven’t shaved them all winter either!” If I recall, I lifted up my shirt and gave the camera a close up of my approx. 2 inch pit hair. Sigh.

Sophie (knock wood) is continuing to be my sweetest sweetest sweet heart. We went in search of a tricycle on Sunday—but alas, none were to be found, even at WalMart. (We ended up ordering this one on line.) I bought her this consolation prize which she is absolutely nuts over. We play pretend all the time, and she’s continued coming up with the most hilarious names for our pretend personalities. Currently, she likes me to be “Grandma Moo Moo” to her “Miss Milly.” I have to sit on the couch and pretend to knit with a couple of chop sticks, and she comes over and brings me treats.

Today’s best thing about being a mom:

Holding hands

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:

I’m getting pretty tired of “Scooby-Doo Meets the Boo Brothers.”

In which she gives an account of the last 3 days

Ok, so obviously the beginning of last week sucked ass. Maybe it was Mercury. Either that or it was Venus. Anyway, things got a bit better.

A quick recap of the last few days.

Wednesday afternoon, Sophie had a play-date (aside: Where did this weird quasi-annoying term come from, and why am I using it? What happened to having someone "over to play?" Why the date?) with a little girl from her school. They were darling. I set them up a tea party on Soph's play table for lunch with pb&js cut into little shapes with cookie cutters, graham crackers with frosting, frozen grapes, and juice in a tea pot, etc. I even had one rose that was still left alive from Valentines day that I put in a little bud vase. Emily is a very sweet little gal. When her mom (who is an aid at the girls' school) picked her up, she mentioned that some of the parents had forgotten that there was no school tomorrow, as all the teachers would be in San Diego at the big Montesourri (note to self: LEARN TO FUCKING SPELL MONTESORI ALREADY. THE WAY YOU JUST SPELLED IT LOOKS LIKE MISSOURI.) conference. So, fuck, I had forgotten as well. AND it was a day I worked all day. Long story short, I took an "emergency" day. I get 2 of these a year, and have to find and pay (74 smacks for me--50 something for others-- because I teach all 4 periods) my own sub, fill out some dumb paper, and get a day off, no questions asked.

Thursday was just absolutely lovely. We laid on the couch and watched Bambi twice. Then, because it was bizzarly warm, I dressed her in a cute spring dress I bought a while back. She let me French braid her hair, and we went out on the town. First stop was the second hand kids clothing store where we found 4 darling jumpers (one with Hello Kitty on it--jump back!) some cute shirts and pants, all for like 25 bucks. There is NO kids clothing store in CC. It's either WalMart or nothing, so really, the 2nd hand place is the best place to shop for her. Then we went to the drug store, the Main Street Grill (pancakes for lunch), grocery store, and came home and fixed dinner together. This all my sound dull, but we really enjoyed each other, and it makes me sad to think that spending the day doing errands with mom will soon be a grind for her. Thursday we also picked up Janz at the airport. We're biting the bullet and paying for him to fly to us every once in a while. It gives us a weekend with him, without an ass load of driving, which is something we all really need every once in a while.

Friday was a short day of work, then home to hang out with Sophie and her friend Addison. Addison's mom and I trade the girls off on Friday. I was a super hero and made dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets for lunch, then they played dress-up's for a while. Friday night was just E, J, S and me--something that doesn't happen often--so we all played hide-and seek together.

So now, Saturday I'm cleaning for a little party tonight. Just drinks and games and the regular crew. I'm looking forward to it.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
The times when your kids also feel like your best friends

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Spilled Hawaiian Punch

Blah Blah Blah

Blah blah period started. Blah blah messy house. Blah blah yeast infection AND diarrhea. Blah blah cold outside. Blah blah blah up with Sophie most of last night. Blah blah dog chewed up almost all my underwear. Blah blah ate almost my weight in cheese. Blah fucking blah blah blah. Blah.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Who cares?

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Not me.

Your Band Name is:

The Plastic Tulips

Band Name Generator

Your Hillbilly Name Is...

Lil' Daisy Clementine

Hillybilly Name Generator

Acute CRS

I have the worst case of CRS (Can’t Remember Shit) lately. It started last Thursday with my eye doctor appointment. I’ve already rescheduled it TWICE because of my acute CRS lead to me scheduling things over my appointment. So I wrote eye appointment in huge letters on all of the calendars in my life. Thursday morning I looked at the calendar and said to myself, “Self. DON’T FORGET YOUR EYE APPOINTMENT TODAY AT 4:45!” So I picked up Soph, and started doing errands. Around 4:00, I kept having the vague feeling that I should have been doing something that I wasn’t, but couldn’t quite put my finger on it. Then at 1:00 am the next morning, I sat up in bed, muttering, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” because it was then, 8+ hours later, in my sleep, that I remembered my appointment.

The next day, Friday, CRS struck again. Because my work schedule is so odd, and because Soph doesn’t have school on Fridays, it’s tricky for me to figure out who tends her those days. Throw in a random holiday (President’s Day) and my whole system goes straight to crap. E’s mom was SUPPOSED to have Soph, but apparently I calendared wrong. On the “Sophie Schedule” calendar that I cleverly made and gave to everyone who has anything to do with Sophie (but that I don’t have a copy of because I gave mine away and haven’t printed a new one yet) I effed up and put that she was at my friend Erin’s house. Because I didn’t know I effed up, and don’t have a copy of the calendar, I was shocked to find out that E’s mom had plans on Friday—plans that did not include tending Sophie. So E stayed home. I didn’t even for a minute figure out the obvious, that the calendar was wrong, and that Erin was probably expecting Sophie, and expecting me to take her daughter in the afternoon. When E informed me as we were en route to Vegas that Erin had called wondering where Soph was, I was mortified. I planned on calling Erin right away to apologize and explain, but didn’t. I forgot. I forgot yesterday too. So now, (IF I FREAKIN’ REMEMBER) I’m going to go get her some flowers, and drop by her house to apologize and explain in person.

I HATE dropping the ball. It’s something I never used to do. Now, I drop balls all over the place. At school. At home. With my friends. With my family. During incomplete sentences. I hate it! The calendar doesn’t even work anymore, because I read it, then promptly forget what’s on it.

As for a weekend update, Vegas was lovely. Didn’t win any money, but didn’t loose too much either. Drank many Crown and Cokes. We went to the buffet at the Aladin, and it was THE BOMB! Clean. Classy. Well stocked and served. I had my first falafel, and may I say—where have you been all my life delicious fried nuggets of chick-peas? Chocolate mousse, crab legs, fruit stuffed pork loin, creme brulee, roasted asparagus, etc. The time spent with friends was, of course, the best part.

Soph had fun with Aunty Kate. Apparently, she slept all night. Why is it she does this only when I'm not home? Such a mystery. I was lazy as hell Saturday when we got home from Vegas, and basically laid around on the couch with her. Sundy, the lazies still hadn't let go, so we watched rather too much TV. Oh--something momentous did happen that day. I needed to do a Wal-Mart and asked Soph if she wanted to come with me or stay home with dad. For the first time EVER she opted to stay with dad. This totally made his day, and made my trip to hell-on-earth much speedier.

Oh--my pop up blocker is blocking the spell check. Sorry.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
She's currently feeding Jimmy french fries, singing "Here comes the fry train! All aboard!"

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
This morning while we were all getting ready, she found a bottle of baby powder. Sophie. Unsupervised. Baby powder. Living room. You get the idea.

Adios, amigos

Very shortly, E and I are on our way to Vegas for a rendezvous with some old friends. We're going to be gone for less than 24 hours, and Katester the Greatster is staying over with Soph--but still, still, still I worry. I feel guilty. I'm scared something will go terribly wrong. So much of what you give up as a mother is the ability to just have no strings attached.

I've been missing Soph like crazy anyway lately. I hate waking up every single morning and rushing out the door to work before getting to spend any time with her. I miss lazing on the couch with her, watching Sesame Street, fixing her hair, scrambling eggs, poking along through a "Mom and Sophie Day." These days I get up, rush to get myself ready, hurry and do her hair, (Why is it that men just don't have the hair doing gene? Are barrettes and pony tails really that tricky?) snuggle her on the couch for about 2 minutes, and head out the door. I'm SUPPOSED to be at work by 7:30. I rarely make it before 7:40. Sheesh.

Usually on my short days, I pick her up from school, and we go out to lunch. Expensive, yes, but it's a nice treat for both of us. Yesterday, she wanted dumplings, so we headed to the Hunan. Soph is super impressed with the golden (spray painted) dragons and other assorted plastic Chinese decor. The only way to get dumplings there is to order this huge bowl of soup, so I fish out the dumplings and put them on a plate for her, and eat the rest myself. She, of course, must eat with chopsticks, and ends up with half of her lunch in her lap. Then, the climax--the letter cookies. I don't think she quite gets the idea of a fortune, but loves to open them and pass out the letters.

So I have this huge tension headache, and am being pretty grouchy to E. It's time to take a deep breath, buck up, and fucking have a good time all ready. For some reason, that kind of sounds like a lot of work.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
I just love her. So much.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Separation anxiety

Fuzz

No one really tagged me, but my brain has been so fuzzy for some reason today. Can’t think of anything to do but write a list.

Four jobs I've had.
1. Yogurt jockey at “Sounds Yummy Yogurt”
2. Floral Department Manager at “Hurst’s Hardware and Crafts”
3. Visitor’s Center Attendant (Post Card Salesperson) Kolob/Zion National Park and Cedar Breaks National Management
4. Extended School Year Coordinator (Summer School Bitch), Iron County School District

Movies I can watch over and over again
1. Get Shorty
2. Almost Famous
3. Bull Durham
4. Out of Sight

Four places I've lived.
1. Christchurch, New Zealand
2. Coon Rapids, Minnesota
3. Monterey, California
4. Cedar City, Utah

Four TV shows I love.
1. Firefly
2. Northern Exposure
3. Dancing with the Stars
4. The Daily Show

Four places I've vacationed.
1. Disneyland
2. Las Vegas
3. Logan, Utah
4. Seattle

Four of my favorite dishes.
1. The Piggy Special at The Market Grill (scrambled eggs with diced ham, hash browns, sourdough toast)
2. Fried Chicken (SO BAD!! I hate to even admit it.)
3. After Thanksgiving turkey sandwiches with lots of cranberry sauce
4. Spanikopita a la Jennifer

Four sites I visit daily.
1. Baby Attack
2. Strangeafeet
3. Krause House
4. Katydidz

Four places I would rather be right now.
1. About Face Day Spa
2. Home
3. Almost any beach
4. At yoga

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Soph has taken to crawling in bed with me at about 2:00. This is a problem for many reasons, but she always says the funniest things when she first wakes up. A couple days ago, she said straight up and said, “Oh no! My cake is ruined.” Today it was, “Quick! I need my medical kit!”

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
Fuzzy brain as a result of being KICKED in the stomach for about 4 hours in the wee hours of this morning.

Delta Dawn Revisited

I swear to chocolate, I didn't put Sophie up to this. I was bored this morning, and reading through my old blogs. When I played that silly audioblog I put up last month, Soph heard it and said/yelled, "I want to sing on the computer too! I know that song! I know it! I do! I do!" So I let her. Here's the result.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Creating a mini-me

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Creating a mini-me

This is the way we wash our clothes.

So--Erik, Janzen, Sophie Gene and I are all sitting at the table, eating oatmeal. Soph has her requisite 3 bites and says she's full. I excuse her from the table, and she jumps off her chair, and starts tearing around in her pink fuzzy footie pajamas.

I see her disappear into the bathroom, then come out with the water bottle E had left in there after his run this morning, and trot into the family/living/play/tv room. (My house is very small.) I think, "Ok--water. She can't make any huge messes with that," and go back to eating my oatmeal. (My family thinks I make "Special Oatmeal" as in, "Boo--will you make that special oatmeal for breakfast?" I just use old fashioned oats, use 1/2 water and 1/2 milk, add a handful of raisins and some brown sugar, and cook is on the stove for 10 minutes. I guess that makes it special.)

Then I hear her singing "This is the way we wash our clothes, wash our clothes, wash our clothes. This is the way we wash our clothes on a cold and frosty morning." I smile to myself, and think how cute it is that she sings to herself all the time. A few seconds later, she comes streaking by--naked. Again, no surprise, so I don't pay very close attention. There have been no crashes, no bangs, and she hasn't opened the refrigerator--so I figure everything is kosher.

I finish my breakfast--and start cleaning up. The milk in one hand, and juice in the other, I head for the refrigerator, where I see this.

Soph runs in naked as I'm taking her soaking wet panties and sock off of the refrigerator and shrieks, "NO!! This is the way we DRY our clothes on a cold and frosty morning!!" So--there they remain--drying--on my refrigerator--on this cold and frosty morning.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Apparently, Sophie is on her way to doing her own laundry.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Wondering what's next

Why you should ALWAYS call a professional.

Home improvements are such a fucking drag. I guess I should look at them as exciting ways to show my artistic (ha) side, or at least not approach them with as much hesitation as I would, say, a flaming bag of pooh. However, home improvements seem to be the topic of the day. Almost one year ago, E and I started refinishing the wood floors in our house. (Notice, I didn't say FINISHED, as we haven't.) What follows is a day by day description of the horror that ensued, as written to the big sis in an email. Maybe you'll see why I now approach all home improvement projects with fear and trembling.

Sunday: Took Janz to Nephi to meet Cassie. Finished listening to Artemis Fowl (you might like these. Precocious millionaire quasi orphaned 12 year old captures and blackmails fairy folk--who are incidentally, dripping with technology and scorn for humans. There's really no good guy to root for, but it was fun.) Arrived home to find Erik ripping up the carpet in the kitchen. Removed layer of indoor/outdoor carpet, and discovered lovely asbestos laden orange linoleum. Asbestos research on internet led to stoppage of stripping process.

Monday: Resumed linoleum removal, taking asbestos precautions. Removed carpet in dining room to discover 12 inch square cork tiles, adhered to the wood floor with TAR PAPER. Began removal with hammer/putty knife in hammer/chisel fashion. Added some variety to the day by trying to scrape linoleum glue from kitchen floor.

Tuesday: More cork removal. Then began tar paper scraping. Purchased several scraping tools. Also experimented with several toxic chemicals for adhesive remove. Continued scraping both kitchen glue and dining room tar.

Wednesday: Several gallons of Jasco poured on dining room floor. Noted gigantic scull and crossbones on the container. Scraping. Swearing. Very little progress.

Thursday: Scraping. Chemicals. Swearing. Then St. Patrick's day dinner at Jen and Paul's. The corned beef and cabbage was delicious. Met Erin Waldman. Do you know her? She seemed quite nice, and has a little girl Sophie's age.

Friday: Had resorted to razor blade--no chemicals, scraping tar and paper off of floor inch by inch. Also shaking things up by occasionally attacking army green glue on kitchen floor. Then went to the Sportsman's (for first time) with Jen and Paul and Erik for Karaoke night. I sang "Son of a Preacher Man" with, I must admit, some success. I may be an addict. I wanted to sing another song, but we had some babysitter trauma, and had to leave.

Saturday: Embarrassing and fortuitous event--not unlike first caveman noticing that a log can roll. I dropped an ice cube on the floor in the kitchen and didn't pick it up. Then, when I wiped up the water, the previously cement-like, adhesive remover immune, army green glue was gone! Water soluble. Somehow we had never considered just removing it with water. 45 minutes of mopping later, low and behold, clean lovely wood! Wood, yes. Oak, no. We assumed that because the floor in the living room is oak, the kitchen and dining room would be as well. Nope. It's fir. A soft wood, but not quite as soft as pine. We're going to go ahead and finish it, and hope for the best. Tested the water method on the dining room tar. No workey. So, began sanding with the big daddy orbital sander. Went through about 5 pads in as many seconds. (hyperbole, but not by much.)

Sunday: More sanding. Found that water does work on the glue UNDER the tar, but not the tar. Hands and knees floor scrubbing, then scrubbed adhesive out of corners and cracks with a toothbrush.Now, after reading Sophie several stories, (her current fave is Green Eggs and Ham. I would not could not sand my floor. I would not could not any more!) I'm going to sweep and clean for Kodi who is tending tomorrow.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Pink kitty pajamas with feet (for her, not me)

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Daycare guilt

You Choose

This morning, I actually said to my daughter, “My hell Sophie! Take your toothbrush out of your butt!”

At school, we’re learning a classroom management program called “Teaching with Love and Logic.” A big piece of the plan is allowing kids to make choices whenever possible—thus letting them feel in control of themselves—their situation—and not having to take control by acting out and other things. So—instead of giving 4 homework assignments a week, the teacher trickily gives 5, and tells the students, “You can choose any 1 homework assignment to skip each week.” If you don’t care if a paper is written or typed tell the kids it’s their choice. This also gets you out of telling them what to do all the time, as in, “You can either talk more quietly, or you can come sit at the front of the classroom by me.” You get the idea.

Seemed reasonable, and as the Teaching With Love and Logic is based on Parenting With Love and Logic, I decided to try a bit of it with Sophie.

So at DQ yesterday with my mom, Soph was, of course, being a total spaz. I had to pee, so I said, “Sophie, you may either come into the potty with mom, or stand quietly next to Grandma." To which Sophie responded, “I’m going to look at the love day cakes!” and ran over to the freezer stocked with heart shaped ice cream cakes. I took a deep breath and said, “Sophie. You can choose between 2 things. Either come into the potty with mom, or stand quietly next to Grandma.” Soph looked thoughtful for a minute and said, “Look! That one has angels! Mom! Mom! That one is the cutie cutiest one. I want it! I want it! Can I have it?” So—I hoisted her in my arms squealing and took her into the bathroom with me.

After getting our treats, and were sitting at the table, Soph stood up on the bench and started climbing over the back. I said, “Sophie. You can either sit on you bottom next to Grandma, or sit on your bottom next to Mom. You choose.” She responded by throwing a leg over the back of the bench, (luckily no one was sitting behind us) waving her arm in the air, and yelling, “I’m a ropin’ cowgirl!”

Back to this morning—Soph (naked of course) was cruising around the house with her new $9.00 electric mermaid toothbrush. She was going back and forth between brushing her teeth, and experimenting with how the brush felt on different places. She put it on her forhead—on her foot. I should have seen it coming. So—I watch the toothbrush be poked between her butt cheeks, and for an instant think, “OK—what do I say. ‘Sophie, you may either put your toothbrush in the garbage, or wash it off and use it only for brushing teeth,' or maybe, 'Sophie, would you rather take your toothbrush out of your butt, or have me spank it?'"

In the end, I went with, “My hell Sophie! Take your toothbrush out of your butt!”

Today’s best thing about being a mom:
Ummm. I get more sympathy now?

Today’s worst thing about being a mom:
So—that freakin’ toothbrush was expensive. If I wash it in REALLY hot water, or maybe run it through the dishwasher, would it be super gross to still let her use it?

Your assignment, should you choose to accept it

Ok. Writing assignment time. Here's one I gave my 11th graders recently to start gearing them up for a compare/contrast essay. The format is simple. Choose two specific time periods in your life. Write about then, alternating the phrases "I used to" and "But now I," creating a "poem" that shows how your life has changed over time. Here's mine. It's sort of a high school student/teenager vs high school teacher/mother. Oh--complete your assignment in my comments, or your blog, whichever you prefer. Let's say this one is due by Tuesday. Extra gold stars for those who turn in their work early.

I used to...But now I

I used to wake up at 6:00 to have time to choose the perfect outfit, shower, blow-dry, apply cosmetics chosen from a tackle box full of Bonnie Bell and Cover Girl, and still get to school on time,
But now I wake up at 6:00 to have time to grab a quick shower, slap on my Estee Lauder tinted moisturizer with SPF 30, find a pair of pants that will zip, wrestle Sophie into her clothes, bribe her to get her hair done with a Pop Tart, pack her lunch, and still get to school on time.
I used to spend Sunday afternoon listening to Rick Dee's weekly top forty with Mandy, hiding out in our room to avoid our parents,
But now I say things like, "I can't believe the music these kids listen to," IM with Mandy more than I actually talk to her, and hope my mom will call on Sunday and offer to feed us dinner.
I used to sit in Mr. Bonzo's English class, passing notes under the table to my best friend Kara about my crush on Erik, and her sometimes boyfriend Paul,
But now I sit on the toilet while Erik's in the bathtub because we only have one bathroom, and am deciding what dessert to take to Paul and Jen's house for dinner tomorrow.
I used to tell stories that started with the phrase, "Ok. I was SO tore..."
But now I tell stories that start with the phrase, "Yesterday, Sophie got into..."

I used to feel something was wrong with me because I never felt "the spirit" in church, liked to make-out with boys, could do my English assignments in 1/4 the time of the other kids, and was never ever a size 8,

But now I feel something is wrong with me because my walls are filthy, I never dust, I'm rarely "in the mood," my daughter is sassy and eats frosting for lunch, and I will never ever be a size 8.

I used to be proud of my great rack, blond hair, mad vocabulary skills, and ability to put people at ease and make then laugh,

But now, I'm proud of my great rack (though now it needs a bit of a boost from an industrial strength bra); my blond hair (though now it gets a little help from Katy and a highlight kit); my mad vocabulary skills (which, to be honest, are quite prodigious); my ability to put people at ease and make them laugh; my fetching, messy, and precocious daughter; my loyal, loving, and sexy husband; and my willingness to look at my life, with all its little foibles and follies, and laugh.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Soph, her friend Addison, and I are having a valentine making party this afternoon. I can't wait.

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
She's coming down with a cough. I'm holding my breath to see if it's just a little thing, or will grow into a full blown problem, complete with fever, a doctor visit, and several sleepless nights.

What's for lunch?

When I ask Sophie how school was, the first thing she has to report is what was in the other kids' lunch boxes. Last week, she was very impressed that Alexia had a plum in her lunch. So when I went to the store, I bought plums and sent one with Soph. This week, Addison had bunny yogurt. That one stumped me. Bunny yogurt? A perusal of the yogurt section revealed that Trix, as in the breakfast cereal, has yogurt now. So my refrigerator currently is the repository of "Blastin' Berry Blue" and "Rockin' Red Raspberry" Trix yogurt.

I wonder if the other kids ever have lunch-box envy over the contents of Sophie's box. She loves the Smuckers pre-made round pb&js, and all though they are way to expensive, and probably as nutritious as a jar of marshmallow fluff (note to self--buy jar of marshmallow fluff so I can make her a fluffer-nutter for lunch next week), they are one of the things that make school a cool thing for her, so she gets them. She also gets a huge kick out of the apple dippers you can get instead of fries now in fast food kid's meals (not that I ever let her eat fast food. What kind of mother do you think I am? Well, actually, the kind that buys her kid McNuggets on a fairly regular basis.). So--I bought some little caramel apple dip things, and send those and apple slices pretty regularly. String cheese, Jello, Pudding Snacks. I really do try to make her lunch fun for her.

Why do I do this? 2 main reasons. 1) When I told her she was going to a new school, she was very apprehensive. When I told her she could take a lunch box, and pick any one out she wanted, the problem was solved. She was totally on board. Lunch box? Well, why didn't you say so Mom! She has 2 lunch boxes now. One is actually a heart shaped bag thing--with, of course, Disney Princesses on it. The other is a Barbie box that came with a pink thermos (jump back!) AND plasticy window-cling like outfits to put on the Barbie on the front of the box. Her school likes to have the kids bring a little place mat (something about defining their space) and the teacher said most kids just bring a dish towel in their lunch box. I, however, searched Wal-Mart and found Winnie the Pooh hand towels that cost 5 bucks each. What can I say? I spoil my child--but I also leave her ALL DAY with other people--and if Winnie the Pooh hand towels make both of us feel better, so be it.

Oh--reason number 2. I remember school lunches in elementary school. My coolness factor during those years was about a -3. Opening up your lunch box (I had to take a brown bag-horror-because I always LOST my lunch boxes) was a bit like bearing your soul. My mom ALWAYS sent tuna. Tuna was pretty frowned upon by my table mates--and I felt like a huge doofus as I took mine out of my bag. Also, mom froze our juice boxes--a nice idea, the rational being that it kept everything cold, and thawed by lunchtime. The problem was, it never thawed by lunch time. I remember ripping the top off and gnawing off chunks of frozen fruit punch. Now--obviously, my mom was a very sweet lady to make me a lunch at all. At least I didn't have to gag down hot lunch--except on pizza days, which were circled on the lunch calendar at home--but still, I never felt that my lunches were ever quite all they should have been.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Reliving old childhood memories

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Reliving old childhood memories

Feeling ever so very not well

What ever happened to women being able to "take to their beds"? I love it in Pride and Prejudice when the crazy mom has an attack of nerves, plops on a floppy sleeping cap, climbs in bed, and rings for tea. Why can't I do that? Can't I complain of the vapors or fantods or something, put on my volumnous lace night gown, and retire to my bed chamber?

Instead, I get to plod through this day. I teach 2 classes today, then go home and tackle such riveting tasks as: washing Sophie's peed on sheets, cleaning up the roll of toilet paper that Jimmy ripped into submission this morning, shopping for juice boxes and feminine hygiene products, and cleaning out the refrigerator before it gets up and walks away.

I really should have servants. Instead, I have the exact opposite of servants. The three other beings that live in my house seem to think that I have too much time on my hands, and need them to help me fill it by emptying Pepsi cans and leaving them for me to find and throw away, finding pencils to chew the leave little shards for me to step on and then vacuum, and make many and varied messes involving jello and or cheese.

The doldrums are in full effect at the Jorgensen house folks.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Reading Dr. Seuss

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
I think I may have inadvertantly promised Sophie a hampster this morning.

This, that, and the other

Man--this working everyday thing is sure cutting into my blogging time. Not only is it cutting into the time I have to actually write, it's cutting into the hours when I would otherwise be doing, hearing, seeing, and experiencing blog-worthy things. My world is dull, dull, dull at the moment.

Currently, Soph and her friend Bianca are watching Care Bears and coloring some Care Bears I printed for them. Soph is in to this baby-talk phase and it's almost as annoying as the spitting phase was. Also, her father taught her to give wet-willies. Enough said. She has also taken to folding her arms and haughtily turing her head and saying "Final!" when I tell her to start or stop doing something she doesn't want to start or stop doing. This, combined with yelling "Silence!" when I'm talking is leading me to wonder where I went wrong with her more and more.

Mostly these days I work, clean up Sophie and Jimmy messes, (does the chewing up everything EVER stop with a dog?) and watch Firefly. I must say, I've become a bit of an addict in that department. I never watched it until E got the first (and last) season on DVD--but it only took one episode, and I'm pretty much hooked. It's not just that Captain Mal is the HOTTEST HOTTEST HOTTEST fictional man ever (sorry Mr. Darcy. He's even got you beat.) but the whole story, all the characters, the sometimes hilarious and sometimes heart-wrenching stories--well, it had me from hello I guess.

In nutritional news--my last shopping trip was a bit of a cluster-fuck. I was trying to buy a lot of whole foods, produce (to probably eventually throw away) and reading labels on everything else. Asking myself, "Should I REALLY buy the three dollar free range, no hormone, apparently laid from magical chicken eggs, or can we do with the 99 cent regular ones? Why the fuck is there corn syrup and cotton seed oil in whole wheat bread? 2.50 for organic chicken noodle soup? Will the Campbells really be that bad?" and so on. I did buy the Annies, or Amy's or whatever mac and cheese, and did spend three dollars on the eggs, but the Campbells was on sale 2 for a dollar, and I just couldn't pass it up.

Kods and I are on our way to see Brokeback mountain here in a few minutes, so I must run. I need to find a water bottle to fill with vanilla rum to smuggle in in my purse, and at least brush my teeth and put on a bra.

Today's best thing about being a mom:
Sunday morning snuggles in bed

Today's worst thing about being a mom:
Soup guilt

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 he's not Jesus. However, yes, that is a Chihuaua. 

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

The best picture of Kodi EVER. ( NO! She ain't gonna take it!) 

Pre-Party smilin' sistas (Double chins are comming back in--really!) 

The first game 

Pre-Pary sultry sistas 

The Glow in the Dark Doodle Bear is unwrapped, and the second worst picture of me ever taken 

Sophie first lays eyes on the Disney Princess Talking Vanity