Sometimes I wonder if I have lost my mind. I got a chance to get away from it all this weekend with my sister/best friend. I had a very nice time, and enjoyed myself thoroughly. I came home to a husband who loves me, and children holding signs they had made to welcome me home. They had gotten some random things done around the house I mentioned before I left. It was nice.
Then today we got cracking on school. In case you are blind, and can't read my profile, I homeschool my second and fourth graders. We usually have a great time. Today, however, notsomuch. We couldn't seem to get the ball rolling. It took forever to actually get started. And now, at 4:48 pm, my son, the second grader, is still sitting here in the classroom trying to muster up the will power to accomplish his spelling and math assignments. I have resorted to yelling, I'm afraid. I hate that about myself. I grew up in a house with a yelling Mom, and I don't want my kids to be afraid of me. But when I am supremely frustrated, I turn back into what I know. I am a yeller. These are the only times when I wonder if I am insane for homeschooling my kids. I know all the reasons why we made this choice. I don't want someone else to have the joy of raising my kids while I try to cram homework and family time into whatever time is left in their days. I love to see the light come on in their eyes when they get a new concept. I love knowing that my son is a math whiz and Hailey has inherited my love of reading. The decision to homeschool them was inspired by the Lord, and I know it. But sometimes I feel like I am going insane.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thursday, March 27, 2008
No Way! ...Way!
I know you would never believe this by looking at me from behind, but I am a size six. I’m serious! The plus size store where my husband took me to pick up a new pair of pants has re-vamped their sizing charts. So I can truthfully tell people what size I wear and not just mumble into a cough/sneeze. No more shopping for clothes at the tent store for me! I just know they will all be fooled. Last year the stage for the Easter program was built a little differently than in years past. The stairs were a little bit narrower than before. I was mentioning that maybe some of us needed that extra room to get up there, when a passer-by overheard me and suggested I turn sideways to fit up the stairs. I very cleverly pointed out that I am the same size from side to side that I am from front to back. I guess that makes me a square. No one gets my fat jokes but my best friend. Everyone seems to get offended when I refer to myself as the “fat girl.” Makes me want to say, “What? I’m fat? No WAY!” Hello! I have a mirror. And I also have eyes... Duh!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Crying=pounding
A stranger made me cry today. Not the good kind of happy crying, either. And Shawn wants his number or his address so he can go pound him. You would have to know Shawn to know how big that is. He is so laid back that he almost never gets riled. I had to beg him not to call and make it worse. Apparently positive feedback on eBay is not good enough.
Allow me to explain. I purchased something on eBay, something I do sometimes. I paid for it immediately through PayPal, and it came in just a couple of days. I was very happy with my purchase, and waited for the positive feedback I was sure to receive after being such a good buyer. I even went so far as to email the seller to let him know I had received it and was very satisfied. Now I have left feedback first for buyers, and not gotten it in return, so I assured him I know how important I knew it was and that I would reciprocate immediately. His response was that he had received negative feedback from buyers after he had left positive for them, so his current policy was to wait and let the other person leave it first. I was not happy with this idea, because that's not how the system is supposed to work, but I gave in and left positive feedback. I said, "thanks for the swift shipping and great packaging. Feedback would have been nice, though." Wow! What a response I got! He YELLED at me via email, so I thought I could resolve it be calling him. WRONG. He cussed at me and hung up. I called right back. Could we at least talk about this? He called me sly and conceited. He cussed me some more, and yelled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. And by the time the call was over, he said the only thing he could offer me was not leaving feedback at all, because he would leave negative if he left any. By the time I hung up I was shaking. I called Shawn. No answer. I texted him. He called back right away. He wanted me to give him the number. I begged him not to call. He is very unhappy. My hero!
Allow me to explain. I purchased something on eBay, something I do sometimes. I paid for it immediately through PayPal, and it came in just a couple of days. I was very happy with my purchase, and waited for the positive feedback I was sure to receive after being such a good buyer. I even went so far as to email the seller to let him know I had received it and was very satisfied. Now I have left feedback first for buyers, and not gotten it in return, so I assured him I know how important I knew it was and that I would reciprocate immediately. His response was that he had received negative feedback from buyers after he had left positive for them, so his current policy was to wait and let the other person leave it first. I was not happy with this idea, because that's not how the system is supposed to work, but I gave in and left positive feedback. I said, "thanks for the swift shipping and great packaging. Feedback would have been nice, though." Wow! What a response I got! He YELLED at me via email, so I thought I could resolve it be calling him. WRONG. He cussed at me and hung up. I called right back. Could we at least talk about this? He called me sly and conceited. He cussed me some more, and yelled so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. And by the time the call was over, he said the only thing he could offer me was not leaving feedback at all, because he would leave negative if he left any. By the time I hung up I was shaking. I called Shawn. No answer. I texted him. He called back right away. He wanted me to give him the number. I begged him not to call. He is very unhappy. My hero!
Recycle bin
Wednesdays are good for recycling, as Nate puts it. This is a post from February 15, on another blog. It pretty much sums up who my daughter is.
This is the morning that all mothers dread. Actually it began in the wee hours. Caleb has a stomach virus. Rotavirus to be precise. He is miserable, and while I will do everything I can to comfort him and care for him, he will remain in said state of misery. I have restricted him (read: quarantined) to his room and the bathroom, in the effort to disinfect the rest of the house. The problem is that this virus lives on hard surfaces for days, and takes one to two days to present. So every surface in the house has to be washed down with a bleach solution. Hailey and I have gone into voluntary seclusion in an effort to protect our friends. Actually, Hailey would rather share any possible or perceived germs with friends, but I won't let her. So we are staying home from our Valentine's Day skating party. The boxes and Valentines they made may be contaminated, so they have to go in the trash. Fortunately, I have the candy I bought to take to the party, so there is some consolation. I knew Hailey would take it hard, because she has been PMSing. She gets all drama on me over the least little thing. Last night I nixed Survivor until I could preview it, because of some inappropriate content I knew was in the episode, and you would have thought I had taken TV away from her permanently. She had such a fit that I told her to go to her room and read for the last thirty minutes until bed time. She threw herself down at my feet squalling and begging me to change my mind. So I took away the reading option, and told her to go to bed early. That just escalated the reaction. She started screaming at me to forgive her and give her a second chance. "I'm sorry, Mommy! Pleeeeeeeease give me another chance! Let me read for a while, pleeeeeease!" So I sent her for the paddle. Needless to say, I knew the information that we would not be participating in the festivities today would be met with a high level of resistance and drama. Boy, was I unprepared. I explained the properties of the virus, and as understanding dawned in her eyes, I took her in my arms and told her I understood her disappointment. I was looking forward to this party, too. We cried together, and she begged and pleaded as I expected her to do, and then she quieted down. I sent her back to bed, as it was still before time to get up, with instructions not to wake her sleeping brother, and I took my weary bones back to bed. It wasn't five minutes, when I was drifting into the warm, fuzzy state of oblivion, that I heard the dying mountain lion. At least, that's what it sounded like. "What's a mountain lion doing dying on the other end of the house?" I asked myself. Then it registered. There is no mountain lion. That sound is the wailing of a drama queen. I jumped out of bed and ran to her room just in time for her to be drawing in a breath. "Are you kidding me?" I ask. I understand she is disappointed, but this it way over the top. So she goes into detail. "I'm crying because I am sad my brother is sick, not because we can't go." "Oh, pah-leeze!" I say. "You can dial down the drama now. No one believes you, and if you wake up your brother when he has been up puking his guts out all night, and has drifted into unconsciousness, you and I will need to have a serious discussion. Is that understood? Now get out your book and take your mind somewhere other than your problems. That is not a suggestion!" So we have come to an understanding for now.
This is the morning that all mothers dread. Actually it began in the wee hours. Caleb has a stomach virus. Rotavirus to be precise. He is miserable, and while I will do everything I can to comfort him and care for him, he will remain in said state of misery. I have restricted him (read: quarantined) to his room and the bathroom, in the effort to disinfect the rest of the house. The problem is that this virus lives on hard surfaces for days, and takes one to two days to present. So every surface in the house has to be washed down with a bleach solution. Hailey and I have gone into voluntary seclusion in an effort to protect our friends. Actually, Hailey would rather share any possible or perceived germs with friends, but I won't let her. So we are staying home from our Valentine's Day skating party. The boxes and Valentines they made may be contaminated, so they have to go in the trash. Fortunately, I have the candy I bought to take to the party, so there is some consolation. I knew Hailey would take it hard, because she has been PMSing. She gets all drama on me over the least little thing. Last night I nixed Survivor until I could preview it, because of some inappropriate content I knew was in the episode, and you would have thought I had taken TV away from her permanently. She had such a fit that I told her to go to her room and read for the last thirty minutes until bed time. She threw herself down at my feet squalling and begging me to change my mind. So I took away the reading option, and told her to go to bed early. That just escalated the reaction. She started screaming at me to forgive her and give her a second chance. "I'm sorry, Mommy! Pleeeeeeeease give me another chance! Let me read for a while, pleeeeeease!" So I sent her for the paddle. Needless to say, I knew the information that we would not be participating in the festivities today would be met with a high level of resistance and drama. Boy, was I unprepared. I explained the properties of the virus, and as understanding dawned in her eyes, I took her in my arms and told her I understood her disappointment. I was looking forward to this party, too. We cried together, and she begged and pleaded as I expected her to do, and then she quieted down. I sent her back to bed, as it was still before time to get up, with instructions not to wake her sleeping brother, and I took my weary bones back to bed. It wasn't five minutes, when I was drifting into the warm, fuzzy state of oblivion, that I heard the dying mountain lion. At least, that's what it sounded like. "What's a mountain lion doing dying on the other end of the house?" I asked myself. Then it registered. There is no mountain lion. That sound is the wailing of a drama queen. I jumped out of bed and ran to her room just in time for her to be drawing in a breath. "Are you kidding me?" I ask. I understand she is disappointed, but this it way over the top. So she goes into detail. "I'm crying because I am sad my brother is sick, not because we can't go." "Oh, pah-leeze!" I say. "You can dial down the drama now. No one believes you, and if you wake up your brother when he has been up puking his guts out all night, and has drifted into unconsciousness, you and I will need to have a serious discussion. Is that understood? Now get out your book and take your mind somewhere other than your problems. That is not a suggestion!" So we have come to an understanding for now.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Confessions Of A CF Husband: (Bump) Not Sad
I've been meaning to mention a blog I've been reading. It is written by Nate, who is going through some big things. Check it out if you have time, and don't mind seeing the power of a mighty God. Confessions Of A CF Husband: (Bump) Not Sad
No Pedicure for the Weary
Did you know that sideways rain gets in your ears all the way to the ear drum? It is an amazing fact that a single drop of near freezing water can make it to that tender realm without losing any of its frigid temperature. I couldn't wait to get gas, so I had no choice but stop in the sideways rainstorm. I would rather I was the only one standing in the sideways rain, and the kids didn't have to walk in the sideways rain. Did I mention it was raining SIDEWAYS? It does this only when the wind is blowing hard enough to push over a two hundred (cough-ty-snort) pound woman who is standing outside. (If you want that in real numbers, you will have to read this.)
The kids had testing today at the umbrella school with which we are enrolled. I thought I was going to go today, get a pedicure and enjoy a couple of hours off. But what I really ended up doing was watching a friend's girls. They are cute and sweet and not even one bit of trouble, but it wasn't the same as a pedicure. So I will go get pampered tomorrow, and Caleb will go with me. He is finished with his tests, but Hailey has one more day. I wonder what color he will want on his toenails....
The kids had testing today at the umbrella school with which we are enrolled. I thought I was going to go today, get a pedicure and enjoy a couple of hours off. But what I really ended up doing was watching a friend's girls. They are cute and sweet and not even one bit of trouble, but it wasn't the same as a pedicure. So I will go get pampered tomorrow, and Caleb will go with me. He is finished with his tests, but Hailey has one more day. I wonder what color he will want on his toenails....
Monday, March 10, 2008
Don't squeeze the duck (new project)
Yesterday Hailey went to spend the afternoon with a friend who had recently acquired a duckling. They had a grand old time playing with it and making plans. You'd never guess what happened when she got home, would you? She had it all figured out in her head, and pleaded her case from the moment she walked in the door. Now, it just so happens, that God has been convicting me of being a "No" parent. You know the type, "Mom, can I get a puppy?" "No." "Mom, can I live with Grandma?" "No." "Mom, can I ride my bike around the block without supervision?" "No." "Mom, can I have a drink of water?" "No. Oh wait, yes. Yes, you can have a drink of water."
I have gotten to the point that the "No" comes out before I even really hear the request. Saturday night Hailey called to me from her room, wanting to ask me something. This is a regular occurrance, and gets old, night after night. It goes on until I tell them to stop, so I have taken to stopping it before it gets started. So I didn't take the time to hear what she wanted. Consequently, when she wanted me to curl her hair on Sunday, and I didn't have time, she cried because she had been trying to ask me about it the night before when I told her to hush and go to sleep. I had to apologize for not even listening.
Fast forward to Sunday evening when she came home from her friend's house. "Mom, can I have a duck?" Well, I knew the answer was going to be "No," but I let her go on about how she would take care of it, and it would be a great way for her to show responsibility. This coming from the child whose gloves were on the front lawn where she left them the day before. So Shawn came in and when he heard the word "duck" he said, you guessed it, "No."
So this morning, I decided that it would be a good school project to foster a pair to adulthood, and release them at the local lake. I ran it past Shawn, and he said he'd defer to my judgement. Which is code for "I don't like it, but whatever." So off to the feed store we went. Rosebud and Ritz Quackers are on the screen porch checking out their new digs, and the dogs are seeing visions of Peking Duck in their sleep.
I have gotten to the point that the "No" comes out before I even really hear the request. Saturday night Hailey called to me from her room, wanting to ask me something. This is a regular occurrance, and gets old, night after night. It goes on until I tell them to stop, so I have taken to stopping it before it gets started. So I didn't take the time to hear what she wanted. Consequently, when she wanted me to curl her hair on Sunday, and I didn't have time, she cried because she had been trying to ask me about it the night before when I told her to hush and go to sleep. I had to apologize for not even listening.
Fast forward to Sunday evening when she came home from her friend's house. "Mom, can I have a duck?" Well, I knew the answer was going to be "No," but I let her go on about how she would take care of it, and it would be a great way for her to show responsibility. This coming from the child whose gloves were on the front lawn where she left them the day before. So Shawn came in and when he heard the word "duck" he said, you guessed it, "No."
So this morning, I decided that it would be a good school project to foster a pair to adulthood, and release them at the local lake. I ran it past Shawn, and he said he'd defer to my judgement. Which is code for "I don't like it, but whatever." So off to the feed store we went. Rosebud and Ritz Quackers are on the screen porch checking out their new digs, and the dogs are seeing visions of Peking Duck in their sleep.
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