You Need a Stamp...

Today, I am going to embrace my eccentricities. I will admit my flaws and love my kookiness.

Scratch that.

Today, I will share with you one of my eccentricities. I will put it out there in all its glory. (And then I will wear a hat and dark glasses everywhere I go for the next month because I just put this out there...on the Internet.)

I write letters. 

I write letters to people I know. 

I write letters to people I don't know. Seriously.

I use more stamps than anyone I know. 

The post office guy knows me by name, where I work, how many kids I have, and waves at me when he  sees me in Publix. 

I write letters. 

I've been writing letters for as long as I can remember. Receiving a card or letter in the mail is one of my favorite things. I am positively giddy every day when I pull open the mailbox and glance at the stack of paper. 99% of the time it's junk mail. Coupons, credit card offers, special offers. Then, there is that other 1%. Invitations to parties, birth announcements, thank you cards. Oh, that 1% is the best. Encountering an actual message from a friend will make my entire week.

It seems to me that if personal mail makes me that happy, then surely it makes other people that happy too. I write letters. Once a month, I flip through the pages of my life. I reflect on and consider the influences in my life. I draft a message or messages and walk to the mailbox. It will probably take the rest of my life to acknowledge all the souls that have inspired me or changed my life in some way, but I'm okay with that.  If I could, I would send every person on the planet a little something. We all need a word of encouragement from time to time.

The hardest ones for me to compose and mail are messages of condolence. I'm not good at it at all. I never quite know what to say, but I try. Brutal honesty: Condolences are less difficult for me when I don't know the person; sending messages like that to people I know is like trying to dig the words from my gut. The emotional involvement is very uncomfortable for me.

Think about all the people you know and the ones that you don't know but have heard about....is it possible that you need a stamp too?

Fishy Einstein Magic...

***Disclaimer: No children were harmed physically during the events of this post. Emotionally? I am damaged. The children are probably okay.

This week is teacher appreciation week at our elementary school. Being an involved parent (stop laughing), I agreed to sit with Ella's class at lunch one day, so that her beloved teacher could eat in peace and quiet. Several of us moms agreed to this on different days this week.

Dealing with school and school children really should be something that comes to naturally to me. After all, I come from a family full of educators. Seriously, my family tree looks more like a truncated directory of members of the Alabama Education Association than it does a tree. Maybe not, but surely you get the point. No, I will not stop calling you Shirley. My people are educators, but I am missing that gene. There is not a single cell in my body that would be capable of being a teacher.

So, in all my teacher-gene free fabulousness, I arrive at school to chaperone this little one's class at school....

 

We made it down the hall okay. All 18 of them followed me from the classroom to the lunchroom, and no one got lost or injured. We entered the lunchroom and split into two groups. The first group went directly to the table because they had brought their own lunch. The second group formed a line to purchase lunch. I couldn't believe it. I was actually doing okay with this whole "take the kids to lunch" thing I volunteered to do.

Finally, they were all seated at the table. That's when some Albert Einstein-time-space-continuum-collapse thing happened. Suddenly, there were 85 of them, and not a one of them could open a ketchup packet without assistance. There was chocolate milk covering 65% of the table. I'm not sure how, but one kid magically appeared on top of a table three rows over. And THAT KID would not leave me alone. You know the kid I'm talking about...the pitiful one who spent the entire lunch leaning over my shoulder to tattle on the other kid who kept calling him "stupider than Brody." At my house, the littles think stupid is the S word, so every time pitiful boy would say "stupider," Ella would lean over and tell me to fuss at him for using the S word.

Not only was pitiful boy "stupider" he also informed me that so-and-so told him he was "talking ugly." This is the exact moment in my lunchroom adventure when I began to wonder how teachers survive without a flask of vodka in their lunch bag. So.....I ask him. "What did you say that  so-and-so thinks is so ugly?" Pitiful boy says, "I said that squirrels like nuts." I look over at so-and-so and say, "Squirrels do like nuts. That's nothing bad." So-and-so gives me his best mischievous grin and says, "He wudden talkin' about no walnuts." Que heart palpitations and sweaty palms. Instead of dealing with it, I told them we should "save this conversation for Mrs. Williams." Yeah, I wimped out and passed the buck.

The enjoyable section of my lunch date was the rousing conversation I had with two boys about our favorite Little Debbie cakes. Let me tell ya, these boys know sugary goodness. I'm half tempted to go buy 4 or 5 boxes of Zebra cakes for the class just because of how these two boys talked. One in particular described the melting of the creme filling and the firmness of the cake in such a way that I actually wanted to go buy one. Right then. The cake boys get two thumbs up. They are sweet kids with sweet teeth.

Not all kids got two thumbs up. In fact my mind was a little like this....

Only 345 more ketchup packets to open.

Good lord. Tell your children to chew with their mouths closed.

Sweet Baby Jesus. That finger was just up his nose, and now he's manhandling his hushpuppies.

Awww, fish bites are gross. The taste cannot be anything compared to watching you eat it.

Will I tie your shoe? Hell to the no. That shoelace looks like a CDC experiment got loose in your house.

Why am I not eating lunch? Because the sight of your food hanging out of your mouth has cured my body of the need for food.

No, I am not coming back tomorrow.

Lunch finally ended, and I felt kind of like I had run 10 miles. Shepherding 275 18 kids to lunch is not for the weak.


Later that night, I hung up my jacket and noticed there was something in the pocket. I reached in and pulled out a half-eaten fish bite from lunch. I wonder which kid blessed me with that little left over.

In the Grass...

Today, I am missing this.....


 

It has been cold and rainy for days here. It's May, and we have the heat turned on in our house. I would love for it to be dry enough to waller in the grass and sit in the blinding sun. Ok, I have no idea how to spell that word. It's a southern expression. Rhymes with holler.

Serious question. I still have nearly 30 posts in the draft section. I cannot make up my mind which ones to finish and post first. I'm overwhelmed by the amount of content I have accumulated over the years. What would you prefer to read first?
Goofy posts
Serious posts
Posts with pretty children
Posts without children
Inappropriate posts
What I really think about Nutella
My hair

Help a gal out. I would love it if someone could give me direction. :)

Before and After...

Just for j-squared...


 

 

We have too much time on our hands. It looks that way at least. 

Skeet and Skoot...

Some days in the South are just too beautiful to ignore. It's true. There are days that beg for me to come outside. Days when the sun is shining and the temperature is warm. Days when fun can be had. Days when the kids and I can shoot skeet with J. Believe it or not, it is really fun.




Every time...I am amazed at how many pieces the clay bursts into.

These two just think it's fun to wear the "ear muffs" and look adorable. I can't say that I blame them.

These little suckers are pretty neat. They are so light weight. I don't know why, but before I ever met J and was exposed to skeet, I just assumed that clay discs were heavy like clay pots. He has since edumacated me. Edumacate is redneck for educate. :) We've already discussed the whole southern twang thing, so you should understand just fine. 

 

The Perfect View...

...

 

Make a Wish...

Wishes.
Good stuff.

Have you ever had a wish come true?


 

There isn't anything more magical than having a wish come true.

Especially for a little girl.

Go ahead. Make a wish. 

I Would Do Anything...but I Won't Do That....

I'm a fairly willing participant in most activities. I'll try just about anything once. If I realize immediately that it is not for me, I rarely ever do it again. I have an adventurous spirit though and am willing to give anything a go once.

I would like to sky dive. I'd probably wet my pants though. I'd be more afraid of getting on the plane than the jump. I don't enjoy air plane rides...ever since I was seated next to a woman who had a bag she refused to check; was from Lebanon; spoke five languages; and totes creeped me out. It was an unfortunate trip for me. It was the worst turbulence I had ever experienced because I was on a puddle jumper in a horrible storm. Being young and impressionable, I was convinced she was going to highjack the plane. This happened 20 years ago, and I'm pretty sure I would recognize her if I saw her again. I'd like to sky dive though.

Do you ever associate music with life events? I do. I think of it as the soundtrack of my life. I have songs that remind me of the past and songs picked for events yet to come. My personal favorite is a bad, Spanish pop tune I found several years ago. I can't understand a word of it, but should I ever decide to take a Latin Lover, that song better be playing in the background. For those of you who have seen me in Publix, this explains why I'm normally singing the Humpty Dance and shaking my way down isle 11. Or why I belt out Meatloaf when J asks me to prepare salmon patties. I would do anything for love, but I won't do that. Smelly kitchen. I can't handle the smell that lingers in the kitchen after the frying. Don't tell me you don't soundtrack your life too; it will just make me feel even more odd than I already do. Also, I kind of wanted an excuse to use the phrase "take a Latin lover."

I also have a hankering to use the word rudimentary today. I have rudimentary knowledge of how to take a Latin lover. P.S. Tom Waits is currently at the top of the soundtrack for time I spend blogging.

My creative juices are at an all time low. It's not that I am even creative; it's just that the tiny section of my brain that devotes itself to anything remotely creative is in shut down mode. Kind of like how my laptop goes into sleep mode when I don't use it. Sleep mode. Right here. My current state of exhaustion is the culmination of putting a second helping of life on my plate every chance I get. I'm not complaining. I think it's a great thing that I have had the opportunity to be involved in so many things. I also think that I need to remind myself of my limitations the next time I get the urge to put a huge scoop of life on my plate.

Layton was being particularly impish one day. He was giving me a hard time. Little cherub looked up at J and said, "I'm just trying to follow in your footsteps, old man." First of all the fact that Layton called J old man was hilarious. Second of all J had no come back.

Have you seen the movie We Bought a Zoo? I watched it with the kids not too long ago. There is a part in the movie when Matt Damon's character states that they live with a little girl who "still believes in the Easter Bunny." The little girl comes out and asks, "What about the Easter Bunny?" Ella looked over at me and asked, "Yeah, what about the Easter Bunny?" I had no come back, so I told her it was a grown up joke. Dang it, people. There should have been a disclaimer that alerted me to the fact that this movie could force me to cop to one of the biggest parenting lies I've been telling for years. Seriously people, years of deception were jeopardized by Matt freaking Damon and his family friendly film. Don't these Hollywood types know how hard parents work to keep the lie going? This is the moment (the moment if my life were made into a movie) where I would realize that lying to one's offspring is probably wrong. No, this was not some cathartic moment where I confessed my sin to Ella and Layton. I lied some more. I am NEVER watching another family friendly movie again. It's too dangerous to the carefully crafted web of deception I have spun for the codependents. Sarcasm much, A-Ro?

By the way Facebook is a scary place. Scary I say. If I were in charge of hiring new employees, I would totally stalk their Facebook page before making any offers, yo.

Let's rock and roll. This week will be over soon enough.

Java Tumbler...

Allow me to ask a question or two. Does any one own a java tumbler from the gas station in Salem? Every time I stop there to get gas, I ask myself, "Should I go in and buy a tumbler? I don't drink coffee,  but maybe I should start if java tumbler refills are only .69. Right? I mean, heck, what could possible be better than gas station coffee for .69?"

 

Berry, Berry Good...

I am a purist when it comes to food. I don't want a lot of seasoning. If I cook green beans at home, I buy the fresh, whole beans and steam them. No fat or salt or pepper. Plain. Same with any other kind of bean. Well, I do add a few pieces of crumbled, cooked bacon to black eye peas, but I don't add the fat. If you want your food salty at my house, you will have to salt it after you make your plate. I don't add salt to anything I prepare. I, personally, do add salt to certain foods after I create my plate. Only certain foods though. I rarely add sugar to anything. We mostly drink unsweet tea (if I make tea), or I will add a small amount of raw sugar.

People, the above is not a health choice. I don't prepare bland food to try and be heart healthy. I prepare bland food because that's the way I like it. I want to taste the food, not a bunch of spices and sugars. Every now and then a good salty, greasy, spicy meal hits the spot, but for the most part, I eat everything plain. Seriously, don't tell me you are surprised that I am a total freak?

There is one food crime that ranks above all others for me. Putting sugar on fruit. I am adamantly opposed to sprinkling sugar on any and all fruit. Especially strawberries. Layton appears to be the same way. He will eat an entire plate of strawberries for a snack. He ate this entire plate for a snack one Sunday.

 

One food crime that I am surprisingly okay with is salting watermelon. I don't always salt it, but when I do, I go all out. This particular food crime is one that has more to do with sentimental value. My grandfather grew watermelons in his garden every year. He would come to our house to visit and bring a melon to each of us. Dewey would throw the watermelons against a tree or on the ground to crack them open. Dew-Drop salted heavily. :) We would sit under the big tree in our backyard and eat salty watermelon and listen to Dewey recite Shakespeare. It wasn't really the Bard of Avon; he was just telling us dirty limericks that I would later recite in middle school under the impression that I actually knew one of Shakespeare's sonnets. Salty watermelon is a-okay in my book.

But sugaring your strawberries? That is assault on good food.

Chick, Chick...

Is it wrong to love your food? I love food. I don't normally love on it before it becomes food though. Ella is taking the concept of being a food lover to a whole new level.



She was going to name this chick something cutesy like Babs. She finally settled on "Tender All White Meat." It's a little long for a name, but it's slightly less appalling than "Dinner." 

 

I'm totally kidding, by the way. We're twisted at my house...just not that twisted...on weekdays. 

Um, I Don't Think That Will Work...

Sweet boy. Oh. Sweet. Boy. I do not think you will keep your chicken close this way.



I do think it is adorable though. 

 

It's the Weekend, Yo...

This is the face I feel like making right now. It's the weekend. I'm not sure why that matters to me at the moment because I will still have to work tomorrow and Sunday, but for some reason, I am ridiculously excited that it's Friday.

 

Ridiculously excited, people. 

Conversations with Children....

The really amazing thing about children is how accurately they see the world. I know that it may not seem like they view the world with great accuracy...seeing as how they fervently trust in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny...but really, there is something genuine about the way children absorb and relate information. Not a day goes by when I don't listen to one of my children say something and think, "Holy Cow. I have the opportunity to learn from this and to shape the way they see the world"....or...."Holy Cow. How do I explain this without causing my heart to palpitate?"....or..."Holy Cow. Did that really just come out of my child's mouth?"

My children don't look at an empty box and see garbage. Layton sees something he can make into a basketball goal. Ella sees something to pretend is a desk. Hadley sees a blank canvas waiting to be decorated. It's inspiring to give them something I would normally throw away and see what happens.



Ella recently told me that I "make rainbows" when I smile. How is that for defining a child's love for her mother? As her mother it is my job to be the calm after any storm she weathers. I have a responsibility to be her rainbow each and every day. She's knows that.


Layton told me about a friend of his at school who has a girlfriend.
Me: "Do you have a girlfriend, Layton?"
Layton: "No."
Me: "Do you want one?"
Layton: "No, I don't want them kissing my lips or putting their tongue on my tongue."
He had this exact same conversation with J a few days prior to this. I'm a little concerned.


At the dinner table each evening, we discuss every one's day. Sometimes, what the children think they learn is priceless.
Me: "What did you learn at school today?"
Layton: "We learned about the Presidents."
Me: "Which Presidents did you study?"
Layton: "Both of them. George Washington and Abraham Lincoln."
Me: "We've had a few more than just those two, son."



Ella wanted to enter a contest to win tickets to the Storybook Ball. I took her to the library to drop off her form and let her go inside by herself. She came back out in mere minutes with a big grin on her face.
Me: "Ella, you did a great job dropping off your entry for the Storybook Ball ticket giveaway!"
Ella: "It wasn't Mission Impossible."
And yes, she rolled her eyes as she said it. So I cranked up Sabotage (the Beastie Boys) as loud as possible; put on my sunglasses; rolled the windows down; held my hand up in the shape of a gun; and ran over a curb leaving the public library. Ella might be afraid to make a sarcastic comment now because I tend to react inappropriately. And childlike.

They see the world. I try my hardest to let them draw their own conclusions. They are little humans, and in my opinion, they have a right to experience life without me trying to control it. It is amazing to see what conclusions they draw on their own.

FYI...

There are things you should probably know about me. Things like...

-Sometimes I send completely inappropriate emails without that being the intent. I'm not a good digital communicator. Ones and zeroes don't always convey the inflection and attitude with which I speak.

-I am okay with never being successful. I do not have any goals to succeed at anything. Blog, job, anything. I want to do a reasonably good job and then call it a day and go to bed. I'm taking mediocrity to a whole new level.

-There are no fewer than 28 posts sitting in the draft section of this blog. I'm going to flesh them out and publish them. I keep saying that, but this time I really mean it. I am tired of knowing those posts are floating in cyber space unfinished and feeling unloved. The other thing about these 28 posts is that I am beginning to realize these 28 are probably some of the last ones I will write. For a long time this blog has been my place to record my life and the lives of my children; however, my children are not little anymore. Their lives are beginning to take a more independent shape, and I have to respect and honor that fact.

Hadley tells me what can and cannot be blog fodder. She has her own story now; it's not mine to tell. It is wrong of me to put anything about her on the Internet without her permission.
Ella has begun to read here more often as well. She does not mind being a part of my blog, but it isn't okay for me to put her story on my blog and hope that she's okay with it if she happens to read the post later.
Layton. He only knows the blog exists. He doesn't know how to navigate to it, but he does ask for his picture to be on the Internet from time to time. He is my only little turnip whose life I am still free to use for entertainment on the ole blog. I really didn't mean that as tacky as it sounds, but certainly, you understand what I am saying.
Being a mom-blogger is a temporary gig in my opinion. Children grow up, and as they do, their stories are no longer the TM of The Enabler and Her Codependents. I have reached the point that continuing to blog about everything my children do is an infringement on their privacy and personal copyright on life. I suppose I could keep blogging about all of the thoughts in my own head, but why would anyone want to read the clearly broken thoughts that dance around North of my neck? Heck, I don't even want to admit to half the thoughts I have. So, the blog is going to start slowing down. Way down. And at some point (sooner than later), there will be no more.

-I have an unhealthy obsession with office supplies. I could smell Scotch tape and Post its all day long. Don't even try to tell me that you have never smelled a fresh roll of tape.

-Layton has needed new tennis shoes for quite some time. I haven't bought any. I keep forgetting. Whoopsie Daisy.