A Cauliflower Bomb

I found a cool book for W. in the bargain section of Barnes and Noble. It is a journal type of book that asks all kinds of questions about him, his friends, school, and his life. W. loves this sort of thing and I thought it would be nice to keep and read when he's grown.

He allowed me to read the sections he completed. It was very interesting and amusing to see how he answered. One questions in particular was, "Does your dad do anything to embarrass you?"

He had written "No" in the blank.

"Dad doesn't embarrass you, at all?" I asked, finding this strange as he has definitely reached that time in his life when his parents are just SO uncool.

"Nope."

"Do I?" I inquired, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Yes mom, you're weird!" he said with a smirk.

"Weird strange or weird funny?"

"Weird funny."

"Oh, I can live with THAT!" I exclaimed.

That night when it was time for lights out, W. began his recent annoying stall tactics. He tried everything under the sun. When he realized he wasn't getting to me, his mood shifted and he became one of those kids you want to ship off to military school. This is his new phase, the nasty, I'm a Pre-preteen with attitude phase.

I wasn't having it. I said goodnight and began to leave the room.

W. sat up in his bunk bed and yelled, "EEEWWW!! T. you stink!"

I looked up at him and replied, "That wasn't T.!" To which he gave me the most disgusted look and threw his blanket over his head before plopping back down on his pillow.

Ahhhh....the sweet smell of VICTORY, how's that embarrassing for ya, my love?!

I Can't Get Enough

Git yer mind outta the gutter!

I joined Netflix a few months ago and though I am a HUGE movie buff, I find myself adding different TV series to my queue. I started off with the second season of Weeds, very funny show. Then I watched 4 of the 5 seasons of Nip/Tuck. That Julian McMahon....let's just say HUBBA HUBBA! I can't wait until season 5 is released in June to continue that droolfest.

I then moved on to The Shield. I heard such great things about this show but for some reason I couldn't get past the first couple of episodes.

I needed something to replace that, hmmmmm... Ahhhh Haaaa....I heard that Lost was great so I added that to my Netflix waiting list. Why didn't anyone tell me about this show? I have been missing out for 4 years! I was hooked after the first 20 minutes. Lost is like, like....my daily fix. Never mind recreational drugs...no, no, just give me a couple of DVDs of that show and I'm good to go.

Every night at around 7:30, I start watching the clock. Only a half an hour until the kids go to their rooms for the night. I practically throw them in their beds, kiss their foreheads, and run to my bedroom carrying my little red envelope. I rip it open, pop that shiny, silver disc into the player, hop into bed with my cup of tea, and get lost in watching Lost.

And can I ask? How do so many gorgeous people get marooned on an island together? And so far, I've only seen minimal S-E-X going on. Well, minimal when you think about the hotness of the castaways. You think they'd be like rabbits, lookin' the way they do.

I can't decide who I'd rather feast my eyes on - Sawyer, Jack, or Sayid. Sawyer reminds me of an old flame. One who made my heart pound every time he walked in a room. Jack, very, very cute, though not really my type. Sayid, there is just something about him. His eyes just draw you in. And I've never seen anyone who seems to smile by only using his eyes.

I tell you, I would NEVAH get off that island. Even Kate and Sun would be a distraction and I don't even play that side of the fence!

Well, I only have an hour and forty minutes until Season 2, Disc 6. I've got to get prepared. Ciao!

Never mind the ham

This morning I was preparing for tomorrow's Easter feast. I was rolling meatballs, making tomato sauce, cooking sausage, and defrosting the ham. I was also making mental checklists of what I need to do to pull off dinner for 15.

Miss R. climbed up to see what I was doing. She loves to watch me cook and always wants to help out. We started chit-chatting and doing the whole mom/daughter bond thing.

Me: "When you grow up, will you cook and invite me over for Easter dinner?"

R.: "Yes!"

Me: "What will you make me to eat?"

R.: "Stew!"

Me: "Yum! What kind of stew?"

R.: "Rabbit Stew!"

I hope the Easter Bunny rethinks his route and takes a detour that year!

A Special Ingredient?

The kids are getting very excited about the visitor who is scheduled to come this weekend.

We've got our baskets ready, our cool, metallic egg coloring kit standing by, our plastic eggs are unpacked from the crawl space, and a bag of carrots has been purchased. I made sure I remembered the carrots because one year we had to leave the Easter Bunny an apple. And don't you know, though he was only 3 at the time, W. still reminds me of that EVERY.SINGLE.YEAR.

T. and R. were talking to me yesterday about what Mr. Bunny might bring them. They are a bit delusional, I must say. But rest assured, I was quick to point out that the big ticket items were more Santa's gig and they needed to downscale their thinking a bit. If not, they were going to be highly disappointed.

T.: "I hope he brings me lots of candy!"

R.: "Yum, chocolate kisses!!"

T.: "You know mom, they make some candy out of pee-pee."

Me: "Huh? I really don't think so T."

T.: "Yea, they do. You know, those yellow, squishy candies we get at Easter. The ones that look like chicks. The pee-pees."



Me: "Honey, those are PEEPS."

Oh I Forgive, I Just Never Forget

Remember last summer when Mr. Schmitty and I had a sort of tit-for-tat war going on? It all started with this post.

My throat still hasn't quite recovered from the Janet Leigh Psychoish scream I let out when Mr. Schmitty tried to liposuction my butt with the vacuum. That's when things got ugly. It was on!

Since then I periodically lay little traps for him, just to remind him that I am a vengeful, vindictive woman who will not rest until I bring him to his knees.

One of my evil plans is to have the guys he works with brought in to help me. Unbeknown to them, they will simply be my pawns in this ongoing game of ours.

Every so often when Mr. Schmitty leaves his cell phone lying around, completely unguarded, I change his ringtone. Big deal, you say? My dear hubby works in a field that has some pretty masculine, man's man type of guys employed. Well, imagine his displeasure to have his cell phone ring, just as a meeting is starting, and all you hear in the room is, "If you like Pina Coladas, getting caught in the rain....!" or maybe, "I'm lookin' for some Hot Stuff baby this evenin', I need Hot Stuff baby tonight!"

Muuuuuuaaaahhhhhaaaaaa!

I can just imagine the heads spinning around, the eyes glaring at him, eye brows arched. I feel his blood pressure rising, his heart pounding, and the sweat dripping down his face. The comments and jokes begin to fly. He knows it's me immediately and he's plotting his revenge.

It just hasn't happened yet. He has been so lucky and has caught it every single time when he has been alone. I'll just keep trying....I won't rest until my mission is complete.

The other day, much to my amusement, I overheard this conversation:

T.: "R., do you like peanuts or coladas?"

R.: "Peanuts, 'cause I don't know what a colada is."

T.: "Do you like the rain or the sun?"

R.: "Sun."

T.: "What's yoga?"

R.: "I don't know."

T.: "Do you have half a brain or a whole brain?"

R.: "Half."

The laughter from that answer was priceless. Thank goodness they didn't know the next line (Do you like making love at midnight?).

This just goes to show you, they know everything that goes on, even if you think they aren't listening!

An F for Math

W. went to Sylvan on Saturday for his assessment. Mr. Schmitty took him because when it comes down to W., well, you just never know how he'll be. He might be wonderful, which he was, or he might be completely unmanageable. I've been so emotionally distraught lately, so dad going was the best idea.

The counselor at Sylvan said W. did really, REALLY well and that he is VERY smart. This I know. He is VERY smart that is why it is so frustrating and upsetting to see him having such a hard time with his schoolwork lately.

I am still looking for a psychologist. Unfortunately the one I found did not seem to ever be in the office. Red flag. So I am researching others, checking that they participate in our insurance, confirm they are taking on new patients, and hoping that the next appointment they have is a little sooner than W.'s 18th birthday.

Now I would like to hit on one of the apparent problems W. is having in school. Math. The Math program in our school is absolutely horrendous. It's called Trailblazers. I understand the whole concept behind their way of teaching, I really do. The creators believe that every child learns things differently, that their way of thinking differs from one to the next. For example, I, like many of you probably did, learned how to multiply by memorizing the times tables. According to the idea of Trailblazers, not all children can memorize, so multiplying is difficult for some. They teach different ways to compute the math problems all resulting in finding the answer. I get that.

What I don't understand is how teaching different ways at the same time isn't confusing in itself. I also don't understand how concentrating on finding estimates for an answer is better than teaching how to find the exact answer. This is something they do quite often. I also am completely beside myself when I see that one day they are working on 3 digit addition, the next day fractions, the next multiplication, the next division, and so on and so on. And what ever happened to starting on page one on the first day of school and proceeding page by page until you get to the end? No, they will be on page 10 one day, page 211 the next, then back to page 76.

Why does the Math have to change anyway? I learned it just fine. But now I can't even help my son because if I try to show him my way he gets totally mixed up. It's a losing battle.

Here is an example of a division problem my son had the other night. The first way is the way I learned how to divide. The second is the way they have taught him.

Now my way, is more compact and takes a lot less time. You need to know your times tables, which seems to be a problem for a program that doesn't teach basic skills. I use flash cards and such at home to teach the times tables, but if he isn't using them in school on a regular basis, he doesn't seem to retain it. I do as much as I can. I am a very hands on mom with schoolwork, but I must ask, what are the teachers being paid to do if I'm teaching him the basics?

The Trailblazers way. Quite interesting and a heck of a lot more time is taken to come up with the same answer I did. Do you see how the first is 100? I asked W. how he knows what to use. He said, "Anything that is lower than the number 786, just pick any number." HUH? Eeeny, Meeney, Miney, Mo?! Hence where I used the number 8 to give you an example. Does anyone else see what I do? Please don't tell me I'm just stressing about nothing.

I have heard that by the time the kids hit 8th grade they are lost. The teachers even will comment and roll their eyes ~ just as long as they are out of earshot of the principal, who is the ninny one that got this program into the curriculum in the first place. Does anyone else use this new age way of doing Math? Trailblazers, remember the name, if it comes to your school, boycott!

You have been warned!

The Week From Hell

It's Monday. The beginning of a new week. I am praying it is easier than last week.

Right now I am emotionally drained. I am confused about what to do. I feel completely beat down.

I mentioned a few days ago that W. has issues with meltdowns and impulsiveness. He can be quite a difficult child to deal with at times. This past week his poor behavior seemed to peak. It was a nightmare. EVER.SINGLE.DAY. He was defiant, nasty, and basically disrupted the entire family.

He has been struggling with Math lately. The program at my son's school is absolutely horrible. You really don't want to get me started on the subject as I have quite the opinion. Anyway, he's been stressing about it but because of the type of kid he is, well, let's just say he doesn't like to work through things. He'd rather just not do it and cause a commotion. Homework has become a daily battle. He'll be in the best of moods but the mere mention of doing work will send him into a tizzy.

You must understand that unless it's fun, W. doesn't want to do it. I'm sure this is the case with a lot of kids, but it's really, REALLY hard to get him to do anything that requires even the slightest effort. It's frustrating to Mr. Schmitty and I because we both have a very strong work ethic. But I know everyone is different, and I can live with having to work harder to make him work harder.

What I can't live with is his over the top freak-outs that last 1-2 hours long. Saturday I was pretty much doing the whole damn thing helping W. with his Social Studies project. He had to make a float about Georgia. He had done all of the research a few days before. It was time to make the actual float but instead of putting it together, I found him goofing off while I was gluing my fingers to the shoebox. I told him to focus and start helping. He told me he needed a break.

HE.NEEDED.A.BREAK!

I told him he could have one after he actually did some work. He proceeded to swat the box across the table and jump up from his chair. He yelled at me that he wasn't doing it anymore. I told him to go to his room and cool off. He then screamed, "NO!" at me. At which point I got up to "help" him to his room. He sat down on the couch and started kicking at me and screaming at the top of his lungs.

I actually looked at the front door because I swore the police were going to be knocking, wanting to come in to arrest me for abuse. He sounded like I was murdering him. He finally, after about 10 minutes of this, went to his room.

The screaming, defiance, hyperventilating, and meltdown continued for another 1 1/2 hours. It was the most exhausting time of my life, both physically and emotionally. I had to sit in his room, in front of his door, to keep him there. He was scaring his younger siblings and I refused to let him upset them like that.

After it was all over, I made two phone calls. One to Sylvan Learning Center and one to a child psychologist that deals with children with ADHD like symptoms.

I then took two Xanax when the kids were all in bed.