"Respired"

As you may recall during one of my first posts I commented on how cool I thought Webkinz were.
My opinion has changed.

Picture it: I'm sitting in my studio upstairs, and from upstairs you can hear anything and everything that's going on downstairs. I hear Mr. Simpleton say, "What's wrong, Garrett?". Then, I hear the unmistakable sound of sniffling (and I get that knot in my stomach because, as a mother, you know he just wiped his nose on his sleeve). My daughter, Abby, chimes in and explains that Garrett's froggie expired on Webkinz World. Daddy tries to console Garrett and eventually I hear Garrett ask him, "Dad, will you take me to mom?"

So, up the stairs they come. Garrett is sniffling loudly, obviously trying to dry it up before he gets to me. I pretend I haven't heard anything from downstairs and as he comes in I can tell he's fighting back fierce gigantic tears and trying to keep his throat from closing completely because of the knot in it. His face is tear streaked and his eyelashes are all clumped together.
"What's the matter, boy?" I ask.
He takes a deep breath and tries to talk but here comes that knot in his throat again. He swallows and opens his mouth to speak again when the corners of his mouth start to droop, his eyebrows narrow and crinkles begin to form on his frowning little chin. He puts his thumb and forefinger on his eyelids and pushes hard trying to prevent the tears from escaping and says to me in a tight shrill voice, "My Hip Hop respired!"
"It what?" I asked, unsure of exactly what he said.
"It respired!" he repeated.
lol.
I hugged my broken-hearted little man and explained that his froggie didn't expire or die but his website is just no longer running.
"But his eyeballs are scratched", he recanted at me through hiccupped breaths. (I'm assuming he was making the association that because of Hip Hop's scratched eyeballs, the Corporate Headquarters/Webkinz Wizard must have decided to "respire" him).
I totally flashed back to the Velveteen rabbit that I watched as a kid.
"That's what your stuffed animals like, buddy. That's how they know someone has loved them."
He nodded and a slight glint of happiness came back into his salt watery eyes.

So, I just want to know if the people at Webkinz World ever thought that it might be a cruel joke to give kids stuffed toys with websites that unknowingly expire in about a year? I wonder if they know how many broken-hearted little boys and girls there are out in the world because they woke up one morning and BAM! their best friend no longer has a personality on the web? I had no idea that's what happened and had I known I probably would have thought twice before buying the dumb thing. I don't know about you, but I was quite attached to my stuffed dolls as a little girl. Garrett's over it now but, man! Talk about the drama at our house for 2 days. Everywhere we went Garrett had to tell people about how his Webkinz "respired".
It's funny now, though.


Hip Hop Mason:
Adopted: March 10th, 2008
Respired: March 10th, 2009

Egg-cellent!

Ok, so it's almost spring, which means it's almost Easter, which means it's time for me to change my year-round Holiday Tree! What do you think? There's little easter stuffed pink and green bunnies, and big floral easter eggs with long pretty tassels, and pink glass ornaments, and pink, purple, blue and yellow feather clips and then I used pink and green curly gift bows for good measure. Here's how it turned out:




I Love Easter!

Lessons in Elementary Traffic School

Ok. I just have to know if my readers, wherever you may be located, have the same problem with after-school traffic that I do here in my hometown. Not just after-school traffic, but even the 7:30-8:00 a.m. traffic as well. 

I wonder...

 

Do you have the rude guy in a much too small but very pricey vehicle who cuts you off in the middle of the road nearly causing an accident just to wave his finger at you because you did something you didn't know you weren't supposed to do?

Do you have the business man who has to drive passed the school in the morning to get to work and, I guess since he didn't leave 5 minutes earlier, he's now late and probably talking to his boss on his cellphone asking him to move the meeting to 8:30 instead? When, lo and behold, it looks like he's going to let you in line! You jump at the chance to cut line from someone so generous. You even wave. 

But what's this? 

He's moving closer to your bumper at an alarmingly rapid rate. 

He stops just inches from your rear end and...is he...? 

Did he just...? He did! He just flipped you and your children off (not the kind of wave you were expecting in reciprocation). 

And from the color of his face he's on blood pressure meds, too. 

Or at least, he will be by this afternoon. 

Do you have the woman in the big truck who inevitably parks where she's not supposed to thus blocking anyone from going anywhere until she returns to her car, which is usually several minutes later?

Do you have the soccer dad in his '92 Buick who refuses to leave any less than 3 cars lengths between him and the car in front of him? You could turn into the parking lot if he'd move up just 5 feet. 3 feet, even! But nooooo. You have to wait for Super Slow Sally to get her kid in the car at the front of the line before he'll even think of moving up. 

Do you have the crazy just-got-off-duty police officer dad who parks next to you and when your children are safely secured in the car and you're trying to safely merge out into traffic he peels out recklessly in front of you speeding away as children blow the dust from their faces and dodge tiny pebbles being slung at them?

Do you have the mom in the minivan who will every day and without a doubt pretend to not see the people who are trying to back out of the parking lot, merge into traffic, or change lanes and by thus ignoring causes after-school traffic pandemonium?

Do you have Crazy Sweaty Lunatic Guy in the beat up old hunk of metal who obviously needs some kind of road rage rehabilitation program? He's the one who sits behind you in the line of parking lot traffic that's going no where (see reference to lady in minivan mentioned just prior) but thinks by inching closer to your back bumper and then coming to a jerking halt over and over and over again all while screaming out his window, "Geez!" and "Oh, come on!" and "I got places to be!" will somehow manage to inspire someone in line to let the freak out into traffic with the rest of us.

Do you have the grandma that apparently has a neck problem because she can't look anywhere but straight when she's driving and you pray you don't get behind her in line only because you don't want to see her get pummeled by oncoming traffic?

Do you have the lady that you let out of the parking lot nearly everyday and never once waves or smiles any form of gratitude in your general direction?   

Do you have the impatient mom with 4 kids who has been sitting in a line that has gone no where for 15 minutes so she decides to jump the curb to get to a parking spot and get her children who are, by the way, the last ones to be picked up in their class because traffic was stalled for so long?

Oh, wait. 

That's ME! 

Besides the last one, if you guys don't have any one of these people in your area, you can have ours!

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S

Julia turned 7 today and yesterday I threw her a Glamor Girl Party. When the glamor girls arrived they changed into their glamorous dresses, had their hair, nails, and make-up professionally done by Daphne and Abigail at The Mane Salon (our kitchen). Then we ate lunch which consisted of finger sandwiches and fresh fruit.


Then, it was time for the fashion show, complete with paparazzi. The girls modeled their styles to the radio version (AKA Clean version) of Fergie's "GLAMOROUS".
And here's our star of the event, Miss Julia Mason.

Here are the rest of the models (after some clothing changes). I think Daphne and Abigail from the Mane Salon got one too many whiffs of the hairspray.

What glamor girl is complete without her own tiny Westie or Scottie puppy on little red leashes to tote around?

My daughter wants you to know that in 10 years...

...she'll be available!

Right now, she thinks this is funny and begged me to take a picture of her for my blog. But in 10 years, she's gonna hate the fact that I ever listened to her!

Valentine's Day Tricks and Treats

Ok, so I know there are some people out there who don't celebrate Valentine's Day because they feel like their significant other should love them more than just on one designated day of the year. I look at it like this: since Mr. Simpleton does love me unconditionally and shows it more than just one day a year, I'm pretty blessed...
but he better lay it on extra thick on this particular day of the year!

But I like to include the kiddos on Valentine's day, too and try to come up with different ways of surprising them and showing my children how much I love them.

In case you haven't figured this out about me yet, I'm a pretty serious individual compared to Mr. Simpleton. He'll get down and play with the kids and wrestle. But, I'm only good for that sort of thing so long before chores start calling my name or the phone starts ringing or I get jabbed in eye with sharp 5 year old elbows. Personally, I'd rather take them to see a movie or go get ice cream or do crafts together or read them a book or do things like plan the 12 Days Of Christmas and special Valentine's Day Breakfasts like this that they find equally as enjoyable. Stumbling sleepily down the stairs Saturday morning and after rubbing dreamy fog from their eyes this is what my kids found waiting for them:

(Spoken with a somewhat French accent) Here we have Strawberry Stuffed French Toast with a delicate strawberry cream sauce and a generous dollop of whipped cream, 2 fresh strips of country bacon and an organic banana all served with pink Sweet Milk.
For Valentine's Day Evening we went out with some close friends of ours, Collin and Monett, to the Smucker's Stars On Ice event at the Dallas American Airlines Center. Sasha Cohen was beautiful as always. Not to mention, Todd Eldridge and Michael Weiss were just as amusing as always to watch.

Meet our friends Collin and Monett:
Notice Monett's beautiful genuine smile.
Notice Collin's, uh, yeah.

And here we have Mr. Simpleton and myself.
Notice my genuine happy-to-be-here-celebrating-Valentine's-Day-with-my-husband smile
Notice Jonathan's...oh. You've noticed.
Hmmm....I have to wonder, did these 2 grown-up, adult, 30 some-odd year old men plan this while giggling in the boys' bathroom or is this just a classic case of I-can't-help-that-all-my-male-testosterone-is-seeping-out-through-my-face syndrome?

But this year I must give Mr. Simpleton the award for Best Gift Ever Given Thus Far.
I received no Valentine's Day cards from him addressed to "My Husband" (please see my Blog Archive for Feb. '08);
No 1/2 off flowers from Wal-Mart ("Fireproof", baby.);
No, he scored big points with this diamond ring flaunting our symbol of eternity!
I am so flippin' spoiled.

Thank you, Mr. Simpleton. I love you!

Tardy Tooth Fairy

I don't know what it is, but every time one of our children loses a tooth, the Tooth Fairy seems to be so bogged down with molars and incisors that she has to stop at our house last.

My youngest daughter, Julia, has been desperately trying to pull her other front tooth out. It's been loose for about 2 weeks and she was determined it was coming out. Well, as luck would have it it did come out at school on Thursday. She was so excited! She came home, found the little jar we use for the tooth/money exchange process and put it by her bed.

No one thought of it again.

When morning arrives, little Julia comes to me and says, "The Tooth Fairy must have been very busy last night because she hasn't come and got my tooth yet."
I cringe and pat her head and assure her that she'll probably come while she's at school. She nods and smiles gapingly and skips off to go brush the few teeth she has left. She seems fine over the whole ordeal. I mean, this is what normally happens with the Tooth Fairy at our house. She is obviously a very busy person. In fact, maybe she needs a personal assistant? Say, a tall lanky red-haired man in a pink tu-tu? Oh! Or there's this guy who I think may very well have been auditioning for the part of Tooth Fairy PA:
(And Matt Baker in Utah, if you would like for me to delete this photo of you in your natural state, I will understand. However, I could so see you in a glittery pair of wings. Those other contestants ain't got nothin' on you!)

Anyhow, that's beside the point. Much to little miss Julia's delight the Tooth Fairy did come while she was at school! She left her some quarters and this little note:

It says in swirly Fairy letters, "Sorry this is late".
And she was. Terribly sorry. But I'm sure she's relieved to have rid herself of the burden of carrying those heavy quarters around!
All I have to say is it's a good thing Santa is a punctual individual.

Robot Girl and the Wal-Mart Gift Card

Ever seen the commercial of the mom who gave her son a Wal-Mart gift card for Christmas? As she's speaking about how wonderful it is to receive one of these plastic rectangles, all her son can do is look at the card. It shows them going in to the electronics department and then, him coming home with a great newfangled toy. They made it look so easy!

For Christmas my daughter received a Wal-Mart gift card with $25 on it.

Keeping in mind the commercial, I set out with my daughter to go happily spend her money and watch her face light up as she picks out exactly what she wanted. So far, so good. In the checkout lane the cashier takes the magical little gift card and swipes it.

It doesn't take.

She swipes it again.

It still doesn't take.

The cashier makes a face at the machine and then smiles at me.

I'm smiling like an idiot still thinking of the commercial.

My daughter is still smiling.

The cashier takes a plastic bag and puts it around the gift card and swipes it.

(Let's see if you can guess what happened next).
Right, it still doesn't take.

She turns the card over, scratches off the silver stuff revealing a 16 digit code and types in the numbers on the computer. The machine makes a beeping sound and spits out a piece of paper that tells her to get a CSM. The cashier tries to type in some code on the keyboard but the machine crosses its arms, scowls at the cashier and refuses to let her do anything else until a CSM arrives with the proper authority.

After about 5 minutes of waiting for the CSM, who doesn't look to be much older than 20, and listening to the mumbling of impatient customers ready to take their frozen goods home already, the CSM finally comes around.

He tries the same tricks the cashier did. Plastic bag and everything.

My smile is fading. My daughter is looking rather worried and is now white-knuckling her toy to her chest.

The CSM tries the same tricks again, each time getting beeped at and having the machine stick its tongue out at us all.

Finally, he asks me if I have the receipt for the gift card.

I want to stop here for a moment and ask a general question to all those reading...
WHO IN THE WORLD KEEPS A RECEIPT FOR A DADGUM GIFT CARD?!?

Through clenched teeth, a forced smile and steaming nostrils I state that I do not have the receipt.

He cringes and tells me there is nothing he could do but that I should call the number on the back of the card when I get home.

I oblige, much to the relieved annoyance of the ever-so charming people behind me, and just pay for the toy with cash. My daughter's death grip on her toy has loosened and she is smiling again.

As soon as I arrive home I call the Customer Service Hotline on the back of the card. After a series of inane options like "para conocer de estas instrucciones en espanol, pulse dos", I finally feel like I'm getting somewhere.

"If you are calling about damaged merchandise, please press 7"

"If you are calling about our Wal-Mart gas cards, press 8."

"If you are calling about...blah, blah, blah."

3. hours. later.

"If you are calling concerning problems with a Wal-Mart gift card, please press 176."

Finally! Now I can talk to a live being.

"Please type in or say the 16 digit number on the back of your card."

So, much for the human I was hoping for.

I have been punching my way through the maze of options for so long that I have misplaced the card. It takes me a good minute to find it again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that", says Robot Girl.

"That's because I haven't typed anything in yet", I say out loud.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that", she repeats at the sound of my voice.

I roll my eyes. Found the card, type in the number.

"One moment, please. (millisecond pause) I'm sorry, the number you have entered is invalid. Please try again."

I type it in one more time.

"One moment, please. (millisecond pause) I'm sorry, the number you have entered is invalid. Please try again."
"Well, maybe if you'd wait for more than a millisecond to let it work its way through your pea brain computer system it would be valid!" I say to Robot Girl.
"I'm sorry, I didn't get that." Did she just snicker under her breath?
*sigh*

At this point, I have no where else to go. And I'm not about to hang up! I remember from previous experiences of dealing with automated phone services that if you screw up enough they will eventually send you to a customer service rep.

So, I begin talking to Robot Girl.

After about 13 minutes of listening to her say, "I'm sorry I didn't get that" to every blasted thing I said to her I reluctantly hung up on Robot Girl.

But I was determined. I went to the computer and got on Wal-Mart.com. I searched for a way to contact them via email.

I wrote them a short and civil letter briefly explaining what had happened with my gift card. This is the email I sent:

"Hello,
I bought a gift card from our Durant store and put $25 on it for my daughter. When we went to use the card, the associate couldn't ring it. When she called a CSM to check on it, it wouldn't work for him either. I have been trying to contact a live person all day but have failed. I just need to know what to do to be able to use this card.
Thanks so much!
Carissa Mason"

About 4 days later this is the email I get back:

"Dear Carissa,
My name is Camille. I am with the Walmart.com Customer Service team. Thank you for allowing me to assist you today. I am writing in response to your email. I am sorry the your recent order from the local Walmart store did not meet your expectations. Due to the nature of your concern, your information has been forwarded to the Wal-Mart Stores Customer Service Team. They will forward all concerns to the appropriate department. If you would like you can call the Customer Service Hotline for faster more efficient service."

I write back to Camille and have determined that she must be Robot Girl:

"Dear Camille,

I have called that hotline. I have punched in my 16 digit code on the back of the card and the 4 digit pin 5 times. All the automated response woman says is "The card number you have entered is invalid."

I wrote to this email hoping to get a DIFFERENT form of action. If I could have found a phone number that would have connected me directly to a human I would done that. But I settled for an email hoping to at least still be connected with someone who could help me. I don't feel like this is a very difficult situation. I have $25 on this card that I would like to be able to use. I just want someone to tell me what to do to make that happen other than call that useless hotline. There has got to be a more functional, more personal way of handling this.
Carissa Mason"

About 4 days later this is what I get in my inbox:

"Dear Carissa
Thank you for your message. If you require information regarding Wal-Mart Gift Cards please call the Gift Card Customer Service Hotline at 1-888-537-5503
Thank you,
Customer Relations"

I have a feeling my 2nd letter could have been cussing them out with words no sailor would dream of using and I would've receive this very same message. They've probably hired some smelly, greasy-haired, pimply-faced guy to sit at a desk in a small closed-off cubicle away from society and just hit send each time a new message pops into the Wal-Mart gift card inquiry box.

I still have not gotten another response from them despite me writing sickly sweet, even nun-ish like emails pleading for another way to resolve this conflict. Their options have not changed on their hotline. Robot Girl still taunts me with "I'm sorry I didn't get that."

I have decided that on the commercial, while the little boy is looking at his gift card, he's actually praying that the 16 digits on the back of that card make up whatever sum they have to to make the card valid!

Of course

Have you ever gotten out of bed and not even made it to the bathroom yet and you can just feel that your day is off? That obviously during the middle of the night while you were peacefully dreaming crazy little imps messed with your periphery sensors and knocked your whole inner atmosphere off kilter? It's when you've jammed the same finger 2 times on the same drawer or when you go to sit down in the chair and it wasn't as close as you thought that you realize just exactly what kind of day it's going to be. AND, it doesn't matter what kind of happy face you put on or how you try to change your attitude, you're still gonna have a crappy day and you're probably still gonna say a dirty word. 

Well, this is how you know you're having one of THOSE days, (please apply all aforementioned misadventures to the following case in point, of course)...

 Yesterday, I picked up my son from school. Sounds normal, right? Of course it does. 

As I walk in I see Garrett's best bud, Eli sitting on the ground. He's desperately trying to cram papers into his backpack that just aren't cooperating. I smile at him and he complains about his papers just as they decide to slide in the pack. He sighs and rolls his eyes at the whole situation. I giggle to myself and think 'looks like I'm not the only one having one of those days'. 

Garrett comes stumbling around the corner and gives me his usual sleepy-head hug with his arms tucked in his shirt sleeves. We gather up his things and I notice leftover cupcakes sitting on the counter. These aren't just any cupcakes. Of course, they're not. Couldn't be, considering I have been SO GOOD for the last week concerning all things sugary. No, they're my favorite cupcakes. They're the cupcakes from the Wal-Mart bakery. 

I must admit, I have an addiction. I don't ever buy those evil things because I could eat them all...all by myself...within a matter of about 5 minutes...and I wouldn't think of sharing. But I only like the vanilla ones. And only 1/2 the icing...on a good diet day. And of course, vanilla ones are all that's left in this classroom full of pint-sized choco-holics! 

Anyhow, I grab one of the extra cupcakes and begin the devouring process. As we turn to leave Eli says something to Garrett about being cold. I looked in Eli's cubby and his sweater is inside. He only has his little white undershirt on. I bend down to grab the sweater and feel that it's wet. I figure his juice spilled during snack time. Of course. What day doesn't go by that a child in a pre-K class doesn't spill something, right? At the same time I notice some icing on my fingers. I check the sweater to make sure I didn't deposit any sweet gooey goodness on little man's nice sweater and ask him why it's wet. He proceeds to tell me just what happened as I listen intently, still carnivorously attacking the cupcake.

"Well, I was hot when I went to the bathroom so I took my sweater off and it fell in the toilet", 

says he as I finish licking my fingers.

Of course, it fell in the toilet. On a day like today, why else would it be wet?

*sigh*

Unabashed creativity or pure laziness? You decide.

I love the holidays! All of them! In fact, I love them so much I keep my Christmas tree up year round and decorate it accordingly. (Sshhh...this really started because about 3 years ago, it was March before I took my Christmas decor down. When I finally did, I was too tired to drag the tree to the garage. That's when my brilliant plan was formulated!)

With that said, I have decorated my tree for Valentine's Day!! It has lights and pearl strands, pink and white ornaments, vintage Valentine's Day postcards and pictures of Jonathan and I all over it! I love it! Tell me what you think!
(P.S. You should see it decorated for Mother's Day! *snickering*)

Smooth Criminal

So, in sticking to my New Year's Resolutions from my Jan. 2nd post, where I resolved to not make fun of Michael Jackson anymore, (now revised to "as much"), I do have to give him credit for being so freaking talented! 

You have to admit that the man can sing.

And he can cut a rug on a dance floor unlike no other. His moves are still popular. Come to think of it, they were always timeless. You can watch his videos from the 80s and see dance moves that were way before their time. In the music industry, he's got it going on!

What intrigues me is how he made such a name for himself wearing pants that obviously had a seamstress nazi hem them, white band-aids on his fingertips, ONE white sparkly glove, white socks with black shoes (I don't care what era it is, that is and always will be a fashion faux pa), grabbing his crotch and hiccuping during his songs. Sure, his dance moves are clean, cool and catchy...but did that seriously make up ALL the difference in his choice of closet and dresser drawer stock?

I guess so. I mean, even I wanted to marry him as a little girl. (Him and all of the New Kids On The Block.) 

And girls fainted at his feet (or hundreds of feet away in sold out concerts) just seeing him and had to be carried out over the heads of the millions of other spectators who didn't faint looking at him in his high-waters. 

The guy made finger snapping and heel clicking sexy, for heaven's sake!  

I was searching the internet the other day (as I am most of the time) and ran across a live video of him performing "Dangerous". It spawned into me sitting for 2 hours searching for more Michael Jackson videos. I have decided that these are his 5 best songs and videos:

5. Smooth Criminal 

4. Billie Jean

3. The Man in the Mirror

2. The Way You Make Me Feel

1. Thriller (strictly for the awesome dances that have spawned from this song that I have participated in!)

And you gotta see this video.

Timeless. Seamless. Effortless. His feet, hands and voice are liquid matter pouring out onto the stage. I LOVE to watch him. And if given the opportunity, I would see him in concert. 

Do I think he's weird? Yes.

Do I think he's had waaay too much plastic surgery? Absolutely. 

Am I glad I grew out of my "When I grow up I wanna marry MJ!" phase? ...

Well, had he stopped with the plastic surgery around 1980 after his first nose job....

...and not been apt to have sleepovers with little boys....

maybe. 

  

Dentafluorydrillaphobia

I hate dentists. 

Hate them.

Not them personally, just everything they do; 

Their office and the overwhelming smell of all things dental;

The fluoride they make me swish;

The high pitched scream of the drills taunting me while I wait in the waiting room:

"Cariiiiiiiisssssaaaaa!! Yooouuu'rrrrreee neeeeeext!"

I look up and make panicked eye contact with the lady on the other side of the room who is trying in vain to read a magazine and ignore me. 

"Did you hear that?" I ask clasping my neck and spinning around towards the sound of the drill. "It's calling my name. It's calling for my blood!"

The woman narrows her eyebrows and turns her body slightly away from me while I curl up in the fetal position and rock back and forth in my chair. I have to fight off sucking my thumb and looking completely absurd.

I don't know why but I have had a lifelong phobia of dentists. Maybe it's because no matter how hard I tried every time I went into the dentist office I always walked out with another appointment for another procedure. As a child I had 8 cavities. I can't count the hours I spent in that dentist chair cringing and white-knuckling the arms when I should have been out riding a bike or scraping my knee or something truly conducive to a kids' life. While in high school I got braces and dealt with the pain of monthly rubber band changes, not to mention the pain of knowing that I was awkward enough during the first 2 years of high school without the braces helping me out in that department. 

But now, NOW, as a 29 year old adult woman I am facing the worst thing imaginable. It's worse than giving natural childbirth. It's worse than when I had to have a cyst removed from my tailbone and the anesthetics didn't take so I felt the lancing, the suctioning, the packing, everything. It's that bad...

I have to have a....*gulp*

Root canal!! (spoken by a deep echoing man's voice which sounds much like Don LaFontaine).

Dun, dun, dun!

I broke a tooth in the back of my mouth about 6 months ago and it wasn't giving me any trouble until yesterday. Now, every time I eat, drink, or swallow my mouth lights up like an electric fence. It's like eating a lemon that's been hard-wired for someone on death row. My mouth screws up into one big twisted pucker, my eyes twitch and shift on my face trying to slide off passed my ears, one eyebrow is narrowed and the other has receded into my hairline. 

I have NEVER had to have a root canal! I have no idea what to expect. People have told me that it's not so bad. "Not so bad"...why does that still not comfort me?

I'll just opt for the conscious sedation. I don't care what it costs. As long as I can walk in there and walk out and not have any memory of it, I. don't. care. 

You know, they really need that conscious sedation for things like middle school and certain dreaded social events.   

I Had No Idea...

Did you know there was actual blogging etiquette? Like wedding etiquette and gift-giving etiquette. I found it in a magazine called "Artful Blogging". I'll share it because I had no idea it existed and maybe you didn't either...

"Whether you have a blog yourself, or just enjoy reading them, there are a few rules - a code of conduct if you will - that can help make the experience more pleasant for everyone. You'll probably discover that every blog has its own set of expectations about proper behavior, but here are some basic Dos and Don'ts that will ensure you're welcome everywhere you visit.

Do: Comment on a post if you found it enjoyable or moving. Bloggers love to hear when their efforts are appreciated.

Don't: Make comments that are irrelevant to the post or the site in general. A lot of readers find comments that have nothing to do with the topic disruptive to the conversation in process. Most especially, don't comment just to link to your own blog - that borders spam!

Do: Respond to people who leave comments on your blog, either in e-mail or by visiting their blog if they've left a link. Visiting and commenting is essential to building that valued sense of community.

Don't: Comment anonymously. This is considered the height of bad manners in the blog world: if you can't own up to your words, maybe you should keep them to yourself. If you want to keep your comments private, consider sending an email instead. 

Do: Link to another blog when you mention it, especially if you are reposting any comment. It's only fair to give credit where it's due.

Don't: Link to someone else's images. If you must show something in your own blog, upload the picture to your own server before displaying it on your Web - and make sure you give proper attribution in the post! For extra points, check with the original poster to make sure its OK if you use it.

Do: Let your readers know if you're to be away from your blog for a while, and then tell them when you'll be back. That way, they won't have to keep checking back to look for a post that doesn't appear.

Don't: Ask someone to link to your Web site or blog. Instead, invite them to visit and comment on something you've posted. If they like what they see, they'll probably link it without being asked.

Remember, blogging is a social activity, so the same basic principals that govern any social interaction should apply. Be thoughtful. Be courteous. Be kind."

What the...?!

Ok, so my son has been gone for the last 3 days spending some much desired "guy time" with his favorite-ist cousin Liam. Liam's b-day was the 31st and Garrett got to go celebrate his b-day and New Year's at his house. 

Well, I have felt his absence the last 3 days, as I do when any of my children are gone for even a night. But last night I had this dream...

I know, I know. I can hear what you're thinking already. "My goodness, what is up with this chick and her dreams!?" 

I can't help it people. I have an active imagination. (Maybe that comes from sharing a bed with my husband who, we have discovered after watching "Bedtime Stories", may very well have Sleep Panic Disorder. It's true. He must have it. I mean, anyone who wakes up in the middle of the night screaming "Did you hear that!?", and "Don't go out there!" all the while making me nearly pee the bed must have SPD, right? Don't worry, I'll blog about this fantastic condition later. You'll love it!)

Anyhow, my son arrives home from Liam's house. He apparently walked home; the whole 1 hour journey from Ardmore straight to our front door, like a dog you dumped off hoping he wouldn't find its way back only to see him laying on the front porch the next morning. But it was like no big deal to me. I was just happy to have him home. He came in, I made him dinner, he told me what all he and Liam did...and then I noticed it. His hair. 

His hair had grown out passed his shoulders and was in a side ponytail! I asked him how that happened and he said he didn't know but that Liam did it for him this morning before he walked home so the wind wouldn't blow it in his eyes and he could see where he was going. 

I immediately took his hair down and cut it. 

Weird. 

I know.

No comments from the pea gallery, please.

New Year's Resolutions: Revised Edition

So, today I made my list of New Year's Resolutions for 2009.

However, I decided I didn't want to do the same old cliche-ic ones I've made in the past. "Get into the best shape of my life", "Volunteer more", "Organize my pantry/closets for the last time - again", yada-yada-yada. Albeit, good resolutions, they have no backbone. They yield themselves to no real resolving since I'm always trying to do these things anyway.

I want to be able to actually succeed at at least one of my 2009 goals, to be able to feel accomplished come Dec. '09. So, I revised my original list to what you see below. Be forewarned, these goals are a bit lofty and should not be attempted by everyone. In fact, only I should do these.

1. I will admit, I have a bit of a lead foot. In 2008, I was pulled over a handful of times. And that was 2 handfuls less than 2007. But this year, I'm changing that. No more Officer Bob flashing his lights at me. From now on, I will only get pulled over by this guy:

2. Along those lines, I resolve to drive more defensively and steer clear (pun intended) of my past fender-bender-like mishaps.

3. I've heard that the number one reason for marital problems is financial woes. I have a personal/business credit card that has been used more for personal business than Mr. Simpleton is comfortable with. He likes to use good old hard cash...

I'm sure there's something I could learn from that?

4. Speaking of my husband, he is a busy man. I resolve to be a good wife and make sure his stress level decreases in 2009. I will make sandwiches for him whenever he asks and joyfully use the new dish scrubber he got me for Christmas. I will throw tupperware parties, fold perfect hospital corners, iron socks all while making a 6 course dinner which will be ready by the time he walks in the door.

5. On that same general subject, I will improve my disciplinary skills with my children. 2009 will prove to be a much more promising year.

6. I will be more discreet about my bodily functions.

7. I will learn a new talent. Like this one:

Or maybe this Odd Talent?

8. Ok, ok. I will stop making fun of Michael Jackson.

9. I will try to overcome my fear or phobia of clowns...

...and dentists.

10. And last but not least, my family says I need to not be so serious. That I need to let loose and have a little fun. You know, joke more often.

Happy New Year to you all!

Disclaimer: These resolutions not intended for real resolving. No clowns or dentists were harmed during the typing of this post. However, the author wishes to convey her deepest condolences to Senator Clinton for having included the above photo in her "fear of clowns" resolution; it was the best photo she could find.

And despite the wisecracks made at Mr. Simpleton's expense she knows that he knows that she loves him dearly....and when he's done with her pants (of the family kind) he needs to hang them back up neatly in her closet.

Slip Slidin' Away!

PJs: $15

Sleeping bag: $20

Bi-annual dentist check ups: $85

Inventing the game "Midnight Staircase Surfing" which requires you to slide down the stairs banging your face or bottom rapidly on the 18 steps, laughing all the way down and begging to do it just one more time: Priceless

For some, there's spending the night.

For the rest, there's spending the night at the Mason's house.

By Jove, I think he's got it!

I want you to take a look at something I've found, passed on to me by a friend with a sincere interest in children and education. I think that it's safe to say that this is something that most people who follow my blog are interested in. 

This man, Sir Ken Robinson, is profound. He's intelligent. He's amusing. But he's more than that. He's an individual with the uncanny recognition of creativity in our youth, or the dissipation thereof rather, and why it might be dwindling right before our eyes. 

I hear so many people say "I have no talents." And each time I hear it, whether it is spoken in a conversation I am engaged in, or just overhearing someone in the supermarket, I think the same thing, "Bull." 

This guy is on the same page.

Watch this 20 minute video and tell me what you think. 

Do Schools Kill Creativity?

Just another day...

Today I...

got out of bed

stubbed my toe on the bathroom wall

after saying "OW!" out loud, realized I had a sore throat

spent 15 minutes deciding what to wear

stared at my shoe rack for 10 additional minutes

brushed my teeth

put on my makeup

changed my clothes

asked husband if I should wear hair down or up - he said down

I put my hair up

changed my shoes

switched out my purses to match my outfit

made up the bed with husband

picked up dirty clothes and hangers

picked up trash from Christmas on my bedroom floor

realized I'd been up for 45 minutes and had not made it out of my bedroom yet

went downstairs to eat breakfast

stared in the fridge for 5 minutes

decided to skip breakfast

marked off my to-do list "eat breakfast"

started a load of laundry

marked off my to-do list "start laundry"

picked up clutter all over downstairs

marked off my to-do list "pick up clutter"

straightened askew living room furniture

wondered why I had to straighten askew living room furniture

eyeballed the dogs

let them out to potty

watched dogs potty

started washing dishes

remembered I have 4 children

called children downstairs to wash dishes

joyfully marked off to-do list "wash dishes" 

broke up a cat fight between big black cat and calico cat

put big black cat outside

let little black cat inside

held and pet little black cat

realized it rained last night

sighed heavily

dried little black cat off

changed clothes

switched out purses again to match new outfit

decided to go to movies with kids and husband

husband said hurry

kids go same speed as always but say they ARE hurrying

husband asked children to find all 4-legged creatures and put them outside

found 3 of the 5 creatures

remembered 1 was already outside

found 5th creature - pried her off satin vanity stool

mission accomplished

we gathered at the front door

husband gets phone call

I say don't answer

he answered

we waited 20 minutes

kids scatter and are lost

saw grass from outside in the foyer

it annoyed me

got broom and swept entire downstairs

marked off my to-do list "sweep downstairs"

husband hangs up phone

located children with tracking device (i.e. snacks)

opened front door

karate chopped and ninja kicked animals away from door

piled in the car

fussed about seating arrangement

husband lost

drove to Sherman

went to eat at Olive Garden

ate something I have not eaten in years

remembered why I had forbidden myself to eat it in the first place

vowed never to eat it again

blamed lack of control on "that time of the month"

felt justified

went to see Marley & Me

laughed 

cried

laughed some more

cried some more

guy next to me told me he had kleenex for sale 2 for $1

I laughed

secretly scowled at man next to me

tried not to cry again

left the movies

husband went to work

made weekly menu

made Wal-Mart list

organized cookbook shelf

found food magazine I had not looked through yet

read food magazine

changed weekly menu

made new Wal-Mart list

fed children dinner

told children to watch TV

sat on couch to relax

heard strange and very loud noises upstairs

asked 4 children what was going on

got 4 different answers

asked politely if they would stop

heard 3 "yes ma'am's" and a "yes sir"

sat on couch and tried to relax again

made to-do list for tomorrow

heard running upstairs

asked children if they were running from Sasquatch

got no reply

asked children if Sasquatch ate them

heard "who's Sassy Squash?"

told children to be quiet or I was Sassy Squash and would eat them

decided trying to relax was useless

laid out food for tomorrow to thaw

remembered I am out of milk, eggs, potatoes, basically anything worthy of cooking a meal with

decided to lay out my clothes for tomorrow to try and save time in the morning

laughed at myself

put clothes back in closet

wondered why I do that

contemplated it being a disease and wondered if it had a name or a pill

realized it wouldn't matter because I'd be in denial that I even had a disease in the first place

decided to go to bed

sent children to bed first

1 hour passed before all 4 children were located and secured

changed into pj's

began reading new book husband got me for Christmas

heard scratching and big black cat meowing outside

got out of warm bed

let big black cat in

dog rushed out

watched dog go potty

let dog in

dog wanted treat

tried to find treats

gave dog last mini blueberry muffin instead

wondered where that was this morning for breakfast

got back in now cold bed

picked up book again

big black cat jumped on bed 

big black cat laid in front of book - blocked view

big black cat drooled on book

I put book down

turned out lights

little black cat jumped on bed, annoyed big black cat

made cats get off bed

listened to cats play-fight for 30 minutes

contemplated how wonderful my life is

smiled

cried

thanked my Heavenly Father

On The Twelfth Day of Christmas My Parents Gave to Me...

...the coolest quilt ever!!

I wanted to give my kids something this Christmas that they'd always remember; that wasn't just a toy or something they'd grow out of and forget but something that encompassed the best of them and their dad and I and their memories from so far in their life...something that when I'm gone, they'd fight over.

I gathered some of their old clothes and made quilt squares, their personal school pictures, pictures of our pets and our most recent family picture and photocopied them onto fabric then sewed them into more quilt squares. I also took them to Hobby Lobby and let them pick out some Christmas fabric not giving a hint as to what it was for. I took all of this and made a simple rag quilt. It's the first quilt I've ever done! And I couldn't have done it without the help of my so very patient mom. (Thanks to me, she's a professional seam-ripper!)

For someone who is a tad OCD and a tid-bit of a perfectionist, this quilt drives me insane. The colors clash and it is the farthest thing from being "beautiful". But for someone who is so extremely sentimental and addicted to making my kids happy, it is absolutely perfect! It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.

To the best children a mother could ever hope for. I love you!!!!

On The Eleventh Day of Christmas My Parents gave to Me...

...homemade pillowcases!




They're nothing fancy. I mean, they'll use them for sleepovers and special occasions and that's probably it. Again, the perfectionist in me is cringing but if the kids love them, that's all that matters.