tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-18541124644707485552024-03-05T03:54:00.274-08:00 MOMMY WARS: Parents Under Siege Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.comBlogger80125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-59888041296818590412011-05-08T09:13:00.000-07:002011-05-08T09:13:15.768-07:00My Daughter is Superman<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=1592280838&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>It is amazing the things our children take from us. My daughter gets a lot of her personailty from her father. They are two peas in a pod. One thing she did get from me is the idea woman should be equal on every level. She never likes to be told she cannot do things boys do. <br />
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I just found out the other day that when she played baseball last year, the umpire in Highland Springs told her that she should being playing softball with the girls and not little league with the boys. This infuriated her and she has had a chip on her shoulder every since. <br />
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This little league season she plays in the Major division with other 11 and 12 year old boys. She wants to fit it, she refuses to use her purple bat bag anymore. She hates when I baby her in front of the boys and will get cranky about. <br />
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But she has <span style="background-color: white;">built a good relationship</span> with the boys on her team. <br />
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Yesterday my daughter prove her toughness and earned the respect of the league. Her team, the Indians, were playing against the Mariners. She was playing second base. I was on the opposite of the field talking to a parent. The ball was hit and she was making a play on the ball when I saw her get ran over. The collision looked like she was hit by a freight train. Every inch of my soul wanted to jump over the fence and run to her and kiss her boo-boos. But I stayed put and waited to see how she would react. She stood up with tears in her eyes. The coaches ran out and everyone kinda held their breath. She got up with tears in her eyes and refused to come out of the game. I knew she was hurt,but I knew she was angry more than anything. <br />
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She stayed in the game and everyone clapped. When that was over, the umpire decided to call the kid out for running her over which peeved off the parents of the other team and their coach. <br />
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Finally the inning was over and she was first up. I went to check on her and she was shaken. I told her to calm down and get her head in the game. She got up and struck out. She was not letting it go. I think she felt like he did because she was a girl. <br />
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The second inning there was a play and her teammate threw so hard it popped and hit her face. It hit her in the jaw. This time she came out of the game. I went over to talk to her and she was crying. <br />
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She was a wreck. I pulled out of the dug out and told her she needed to let the collision go and she needed to sit on the bench. It was obviously in her head and she was making mistakes that she would not make. I told her she was more of a danger to herself. <br />
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I went back on the other side of the field and tried not to hoover. She got up to bat and I held my breath. She got and put her bat up to bunt. Finally she made contact bunted the ball and advanced the runner. It was great. The confidence started coming back over her and she seemed calmer. <br />
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Then the next inning came and the ball was hit hard and took a crazy bounce and she jumped right in from of it. She fielded the play and threw it to first. <br />
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By the ended the game, the Indians were making a come back but fell short by two runs. <br />
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At the end of the game, her coach awarded her the game ball. This is not normally awarded unless the game was won. <br />
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She came off the field beaming. Everyone came up to her telling how great she did and how tough she was. One mom told me that she waiting for me to jump the fence and run out there. I told her that I wanted too. <br />
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She talked to a couple of the guys. The other team even asked if she was okay. Finally we got to the car and her team mate yelled her that, "Hey Taylor, I am not calling you that anymore. You are now Superman." <br />
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He flashed a little smile and got in the car. <br />
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Taylor looked at me and said, "Mom, it should be superwoman."<br />
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"Taylor, it means he thinks of you as an equal. Let him call you superman."Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-82231868301608868742011-04-25T16:04:00.000-07:002011-04-25T16:04:00.062-07:00The Fighting Has Gone Too FarSo these last couple weeks have been a bit stressful and the kids sensing that thought they would step up the arguing. They bickered over absolutely everything. It was just ridiculous. They even tattled via text me when I was out with my husband on date night because they were told not to call to tattle. <br />
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So yesterday we took the family to have a picnic at Kings Dominion before going to the park for the day. <span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001UV4XHY&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span><br />
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For the most part they were getting along. Well I had lost the KD passes and I think they recognized this was not the time to argue. Luckliy we got to Guest Services and they had found them in the park. So it was my children's cue to jump right on the arguing boat again since I was back to my cheery self. Well they argued over which side of the park we started on. They argued over the SpongeBob ride, which was closed when we got there. <br />
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But the tipping point of the day happened on the Intimidator 305. First of all, this ride scares the living crap out of me. It is set to the theme of Dale Earnhardt. There is country music blaring in the background and the ride begins with, "Gentlemen Start Your Engines." These are not the last words I want to hear at the end of my life. The thing does even slowly ascend to the top, it goes up pretty quickly an down much faster. I rode it once last season and that was good enough. I got off of it shaking and light headed. Supposedly they sped the dang thing up, so it is worse this year. <br />
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So of course, Logan wanted to ride it. He asked Taylor to ride it and off they went. Taylor and Logan has rode it many times before, so fear was not a factor with them. It was with me. They were even getting along without being told to be nice to each other. <br />
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Five minutes later they come stomping back and yelling at each other. They got up to the line and Taylor decided at the last moment that she did not want to ride. She informed Logan she would just walk back alone to find us. That is a big no-no in our house and Logan would have got in trouble if he let her walk away. No one travels alone in the Rupp family. <br />
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So Logan is mad, Taylor is getting teary eyed and they both start making their case. Like Bill Cosby, I do not care about who is right or justice, I care about QUIET. <br />
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So I informed Logan I would ride the Volcano with him. I like the Volcano, it is not nearly as intense as the Intimidator. We walked over there together. Logan once again was making his case to me and I was blocking it out. The Volcano's line was ridiculous and long. So FINE,I told him that we go on the stupid Intimidator and I WAS NOT happy about. <br />
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So I stomped over there like a big baby and tried to talk him out it. He told me that really does not want to ride by himself and that makes him feel bad. So DAMN now I was going to ride the stupid ride and I was not in the mindset to ride this beast. <br />
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I got on the stupid thing and informed Logan he was grounded for making me ride this stupid thing when I was not ready. Then when the evil southern voice came over the intercom that said gentlemen start your engines, I grounded Taylor. <br />
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As we went up the 305 foot hill, I grounded the other passengers, the ride operators, and the architects who dreamt up such a crazy ride. Then we went over the hill and I could not ground anyone else because I was screaming so loud I could not hear myself think. At one point, I went around one of the twisted corners and everything started going brown. All I could think of was, "great the blood had left my eyeballs."<br />
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Finally the ride was over and we sitting in the thingy waiting to be unloaded and Logan looked at me and asked me if I was okay. <br />
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All I could muster, "You are really grounded until I am not mad anymore."<br />
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I got off the ride shaking. The stupid thing was faster than last year. I was boiling mad. I was so peeved that I had to ride something to deal with an argument between these children, I bought a key chain to remind myself what sibling rivalry will lead me to do to maintain peace. <br />
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When I saw Joe, I grounded him for knowing them. <br />
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The irritating thing after that was they still would not speak to each other for the next hour. So I made them sit by each other on the next ride. <br />
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We are home, all is good and the children are not grounded today. But the night is young and I can remind myself at any moment why I was mad yesterday. <br />
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Here is the link to the wikipedia page of this beast: <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intimidator_305">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Intimidator_305</a><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpPbx7K1rQIzGKCveG4DBkK_r39gfiphPMHM8_i14t_CmPNutYPWa7Jif6N-KuQHcCZdJU1qDsb6Xk9c6Wbj-SK3PcenSHJMuixJBQb40_163HQif_L5J-ztkcKv3Z9x7-gTIx57wJNUS/s1600/Friday+at+KD+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqpPbx7K1rQIzGKCveG4DBkK_r39gfiphPMHM8_i14t_CmPNutYPWa7Jif6N-KuQHcCZdJU1qDsb6Xk9c6Wbj-SK3PcenSHJMuixJBQb40_163HQif_L5J-ztkcKv3Z9x7-gTIx57wJNUS/s320/Friday+at+KD+027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-51288069661804451342011-04-01T07:50:00.000-07:002011-04-01T07:50:42.267-07:00Look What You DidMy husband and I are definitely animal people. We have loved every last one of our pets,okay well this was this one hamster we had that hated us. We, like many pet owners, have great stories about their pets. So I thought I would share a funny one that today. <br />
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My cat Barkley, is a black kitty cat who seems to be deeply annoyed by everyone. His persona is arrogant and really does not want to be bother by us. But he is just so darn cute, I want to cuddle with his face. I tell myself that he loves me but I really think he tolerates me. <span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000MD58MA&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span><br />
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My husband has come with this voice and personality that is a cross between Stewie Griffin and Pepie Le Pew. Recently, he launched his own Twitter page, FelinePimp. <br />
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He has always been a bad kitty when it comes to food. I have found him in the cabinet many, many times trying to get into the cat and/or dog food. <br />
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Recently, we bought a container that we thought he was unable to get in. It is a plastic container with a lid. The thing has a spout-type thing that you open and the food is poured out. <br />
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Now I have found it many times knocked over but Barkley had not figured out how to get in it until this morning. <br />
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So I was sitting on the couch watching Drake and Josh(don't judge me). When I heard a crash. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a black kitty run under the table. I went to investigate what my little kitty got into this time. <br />
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I found the cabinet opened and the food container with no lid. I looked around for it and nothing. Then I had an AHA moment and decided to look under the table. I got on my hands and knees and what did I find. I found a bad kitty cat.<br />
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I immediately burst into laughter. My oldest child ran into the dining area to investigate what had made mommy laugh so hysterical. He too got on his hands and knees a found something truly funny. <br />
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I had found my kitty with the lid of his food container around his waist. He was futaly trying to free himself from this contraption. So I continued laughing as I fumbled for my camera. He just laid there looking embarrassed and helpless as I snapped pics of him. <br />
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Once I got a good pic, I freed my little cranky cat and he ran off. He sat in the hall and looked back at me as if you say, "I am not sure how but I know this is your fault." He then laid down and licked his tummy. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Mo1XhkI_BKJlSevpcL0bRmNcc_1UOOqfz72NnGeaCI9nU0yQMAn149d15HmznLhNAQdGeFFpTZ8U5koNellAZOyG5viGJ7Z1mQsMzc6ZrsadPDypAvbEXj-NgLkxBkNJsbmbgjcNqXaL/s1600/Iphone+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Mo1XhkI_BKJlSevpcL0bRmNcc_1UOOqfz72NnGeaCI9nU0yQMAn149d15HmznLhNAQdGeFFpTZ8U5koNellAZOyG5viGJ7Z1mQsMzc6ZrsadPDypAvbEXj-NgLkxBkNJsbmbgjcNqXaL/s320/Iphone+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-49857599695794733172011-03-15T18:13:00.000-07:002011-03-15T18:13:53.478-07:00Turn it Up Mom<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B001B65PAC&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>First practice of the little league season and we are all on our way to the field. I am in a good mood. Joey is on the Red Sox this year and his coach is great. Joe and I are talking in the front seat about the upcoming season. We are not really paying attention to the radio or the kids. <br />
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Suddenly from the back seat I hear, "Turn it up mom."<br />
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Without really thinking about it I turned the volume up on the dial. And on the radio one of my old favorites is on.....Girls Just Want To Have Fun. <br />
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Now the funny part of the whole story was not the song but which child asked for me to turn it up. The voice from the back came from my youngest son. Apparently it was his jam. <br />
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When Joe and I realized what song it was and when the reality hit our brains that Joey had asked us to turn this song up we were speechless. Joe had this look on his face and I just burst out laughing. I laughed until I had tears in my eyes. <br />
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Realizing the oddness of his request, he stammered for a second and informed us that he liked the song because it was on Sing Star and it was Taylor fault. <br />
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Maybe it is not that funny, but the timing was great and I needed a good laugh. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-55039564718668702662011-03-07T16:58:00.000-08:002011-03-07T16:58:18.582-08:00A Normal Conversation<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B000MRNWK6&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>Let me set the stage for a normal night at our house. I would love to tell you about one certain instance, but it usually happens a couple times a week. <br />
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Joey standing in the middle of the room saying something outrageous and acting completely dramatic. <br />
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I look at Joe and tell him the classic, "that is your child."<br />
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He looks at me and states, "then why does he act like you. That is your child."<br />
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Little Joey gets fustrated and puts his hands on his hips and responds, "Guys you are both my PARENT."<br />
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And storms out of the room.Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-90699322940952373472011-03-01T18:09:00.000-08:002011-03-01T18:09:20.401-08:00Dinner Conversations: Logan's Confession<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002F9RQ92&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>Dinner time is always a time for us to sit down as a family and catch up. Tonight Joe was working, so it was just the kids and myself. <br />
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I am not exactly sure how the conversation led to this, oh wait I do, we were talking about Power Rangers. Logan was obsessed with Power Rangers when he was little. He was so cute the way he use to say Power Rangers. It was a horrible show, but I watched it with him because I liked to know what the kids are being exposed to on television.<br />
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Well this led to a confession from the teenager. <br />
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"Mom, when I was a kid I use to think you kidnapped me," Logan said to me. <br />
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I just stared at him blankly. I had no words at the moment and that is hard to accomplish.<br />
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"What?"<br />
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"Yeah when I was a kid, I remember staying at this house and it was big house. Well you came and picked me up and took me to your house. I thought you kidnapped me," he responded. <br />
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Once again I just stared at him. He head could not wrap around this announcement. <br />
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Eventually I asked him if he was scared, he told me that he wasn't but wondered about the woman he thought was his mother. <br />
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I began thinking how crazy this was but I am also the one who thought when I was little that when I slept a monster came into my room and moved me and that was why I never woke up in the same spot. Plus I thought that when a woman had a baby her belly opened up from the belly button and the baby came out like there was a little elevator in there. <br />
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So guess it is not crazy that he thought I kidnapped him. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwJgsej1L7DTMMRqnsahrg4hUibkr2x9f3lvq1Omqey2eYX4M-lxkwqMI1A27mXCVH3RHpkDFFpA7OW0ukyZxwQH-TjRGkYrN1FjZOcc4r0Hu146smqeJbwlB1CW3RPqoDDQD3UX0_ieA/s1600/001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" l6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZwJgsej1L7DTMMRqnsahrg4hUibkr2x9f3lvq1Omqey2eYX4M-lxkwqMI1A27mXCVH3RHpkDFFpA7OW0ukyZxwQH-TjRGkYrN1FjZOcc4r0Hu146smqeJbwlB1CW3RPqoDDQD3UX0_ieA/s320/001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-51100870305815132592011-02-16T13:04:00.000-08:002011-02-17T06:52:01.713-08:00Cat SchoolBarkley, my cat, is a notorious pain in the butt. He does little things that drives everyone crazy. Generally, he is not affection and tends to look like he is being tortured if anyone tries to cuddle with him. But he is just so darn cute. <br />
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We have five chairs at the table, if one person does not sit quickly enough they will find my little black feline waiting for his own portions of the family meal. He is notorious in the house for snatching a steak or two when we took our eyes off of him. <br />
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So today he was fighting with Joe's cat. He tends to do this a lot but mainly when I am sleeping. Joe noticed him wiggle his little butt get ready to pounce on Chauncey. <iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0021L8W6K&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><br />
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He looked at me informed me that he was not the brightest cat in the world. Of course, as much as the cat seems to dislike me, he is still my cat so I rushed to his defense. <br />
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I informed Joe that he was a smart kitty and sweet(I was totally lying). Joe looked at me like I had lost my mind. We went back and fourth for a few minutes.<br />
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Taking his father's side, from the corner of the room Joey pops out with, "Mom, Barkley has never been to Cat School mom, he can't hold a pencil."<br />
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I guess he told me. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Dkjwz0meofYZ6R1Owj7B-Bq417OIEF7Lysr1KWqVPL23gmQmiH_GKZIlfBI8rX1w1dS0_R40r9rCNrxuyNzxs16yJFxg2Gr2XRSGOjkmfdretNshvqWbkF79cbj-tvoFkDuqtzM_cmHq/s1600/002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Dkjwz0meofYZ6R1Owj7B-Bq417OIEF7Lysr1KWqVPL23gmQmiH_GKZIlfBI8rX1w1dS0_R40r9rCNrxuyNzxs16yJFxg2Gr2XRSGOjkmfdretNshvqWbkF79cbj-tvoFkDuqtzM_cmHq/s320/002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-82281505332843919972011-02-07T17:30:00.000-08:002011-02-13T17:16:11.700-08:00My TantrumI love blogging about my kids and the silly things they say and do. I find it entertaining and I think there is definitely an audience out there for silly kids stories. Plus with my memory, I need something I can look back and laugh at when they are in college.<br />
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I would be hypocritical if I did not share my own nutty moments as a parent. This one tonight was a big one and my children informed me I had to blog about because it is only fair. <iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0002RNQ34&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe><br />
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So Taylor and I are hitting the studying big time. She has two big tests on Wednesday, so we hit the ground running today. We started with Social Studies because that is my FAVORITE and considering I have a Master of Arts in Public Policy, there should be nothing I am not somewhat familiar with for the most part.<br />
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So we are in it, talking about Jamestown, the Contenintal Congress, Thomas Jefferson, and even some minor geography questions. <br />
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We get to a section that wants Taylor to separate the rivers and the world oceans. Of course, I got this. I know that the Atlantic, Indian, and Artic are oceans. I am completely aware of the Rio Grande, the Mississippi and the Ohio are rivers. Then we hit something I had never in my lifetime seen, the Southern. I automatically assumed it was a river because I just knew it was not an ocean. My daughter informed me that I was wrong, that the Southern was an actual ocean. <br />
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Now I wanted to argue and we went back and forth for five minutes. So I made my daughter google it. She read on google that..."the Southern Ocean was discovered......blah, blah, blah." I was incensed. Obviously if there was the alleged Southern Ocean, it was not "DISCOVERED" it was sectioned off and renamed it/ When did this happen? Was there a press release? I mean I went to college in from 2003 to 2007 at the great University of Florida and then 2009 to 2010 at New England College. How in the world was I unaware of this ocean?<br />
<br />
It escalated after this and there was me(an adult) arguing with Taylor that thing was not discovered it was renamed. Then suddenly Joey came out of his room with a study guide with the word Southern Ocean on it and joined the argument. Then Logan came out to join the chaos. My kids were just so excited their know-it-all mother was unaware of something. <br />
<br />
After a few minutes of all four of us going back and forth, Joe tried to calm me down. He was enjoying this a lot. I was now getting angry. I started yelling that nothing was discovered, everyone knew the earth was round and the moon controlled the tides. No one suddenly discovered this piece of ocean that remained unseen by all humans since the invention of the satellite. I stomped through the house like a big baby and threaten to ground anyone who said the word discovered......Joe included. <br />
<br />
Not my finest moment. <br />
<br />
I did feel better later, I text two of my closest friends and they had never heard of this Southern Ocean. Both absolutely agreed it was not "discovered."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNSuLWCMcTnAXquodHOcfXudQGqFf3kntJt1yK9H1rYKSxRZmPd48DMH8x72_7zGB_0uXvPhGqRkNYP7W8SgbylxJWSi2mYpIGPhHe6FnpGNVwVCRzIWIaGvDZlnmj4sNxLkTBU3Wc0g/s1600/Just+for+fun+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrNSuLWCMcTnAXquodHOcfXudQGqFf3kntJt1yK9H1rYKSxRZmPd48DMH8x72_7zGB_0uXvPhGqRkNYP7W8SgbylxJWSi2mYpIGPhHe6FnpGNVwVCRzIWIaGvDZlnmj4sNxLkTBU3Wc0g/s320/Just+for+fun+005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-73876644626083754132011-02-05T10:16:00.000-08:002011-02-05T10:16:24.106-08:00Joey: The Hot Dog Story<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002ZY9EH4&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>My son is a hot dog addict. He always has been from the time I cut up little hot dogs for him when he was a little guy until now when he orders hot dogs every last time we go out to eat. <br />
<br />
He asked for corn dogs for lunch today. So after he finished up his favorite meal, he asked me an unexpected question. <br />
<br />
"Mom, are hot dogs and corn dogs made out of dogs??"<br />
<br />
Everyone kinda stopped for a second and just looked at him. "What did he say?" my husband responded. <br />
<br />
"He just asked me if his hot dogs were made out of dogs."<br />
<br />
I explained to my doe-eyed child that of course they were not made out of dogs.Then I asked the obvious question. <br />
<br />
"Who told you that?"<br />
<br />
"Taylor," he said kicking his sister directly under the bus.<br />
<br />
All eyes turned to Taylor. And of course she denied it. So for two minutes we went back and forth arguing over who did or did not say what to Joey.<br />
<br />
Joey looked at me and informed me that he cried when he found out.<br />
<br />
There was only one thing left to find out.<br />
<br />
"Joey, why if you thought they were made out of dogs, did you still eat the hot dogs?" I asked. <br />
<br />
"Because mom they are yummy."Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-45494558225356014552011-01-30T07:54:00.000-08:002011-01-30T07:54:08.241-08:00Joey's Question<span><span></span></span>The family was sitting around playing videos games last night. We were playing the new Donkey Kong Returns when my husband decided to keep me in the loop about the kids conversations of the day. It started a little like this.....<br />
<br />
Guess what Joey said..........<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B0032GPXH4&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span><br />
<br />
That is usually the way it starts. <br />
<br />
Joe went on with his explanation. Apparently Logan told Joey that women got their periods once a month. I was told to ask Joey what he said next. <br />
<br />
Alright, I will bite, "what did you say?"<br />
<br />
Joey turned all red and tried to hide behind daddy.<br />
<br />
"Mom, I just wanted to know how many times a month mens got their periods," he said looking all embarrassed. <br />
<br />
Truly this boy is comedy gold, I think he is most likely the one of my kids to end up on youtube. Too bad he does not have a little bother named Charile who bites fingers.Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-33626196125882208332011-01-26T17:08:00.000-08:002011-01-26T17:09:26.008-08:00Dinner Conversations: Awe the Innocence of Little Ones<iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=0380811960&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>Dinner time is always a bonding time for us, it is the one place that we all stop and try to talk about our lives. Every night we always take the time to talk about the kids day at school. Joey's stories usually consist of stories about the playground drama. <br />
<br />
Today Taylor was discussing her schedule next year. She excited because she can take yearbook, journalism, or a foreign language. She was so focused and of course I wanted her to take the journalism.<br />
<br />
After the youngest ones finished their stories, our attention moved to the teenager. He rambling about this and that. He then started talking about his friend. There is always one kid you do not want your kid to hang out with, well this was one of them. Logan was telling us how this kid had started smoking and how he thinks it is soooo cool. <br />
<br />
Joey piped up with, "What does he think........does he think he is a dragon, Logan?"<br />
<br />
Joe and I just looked at each other and started laughing. Logan and Taylor looked at him like he had worms crawling out of his eyeballs. <br />
<br />
Ah, the innocence of the little ones.Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-68861356297333925592011-01-22T11:49:00.000-08:002011-01-22T11:55:37.034-08:00Taylor VS. Glenn BeckI trully believe most Americans are pretty moderate. Our family is pretty much in the middle about most things. One thing my husband go back and forth about the extremes of both parties. Sometimes when you are mid-rant, you forget that your children are listening. Seriously, they never pay attention to other things you say like......brush your hair, turn off the light, flush the toilet. You know things you actually directly tell them. <br />
<br />
So I was a little shocked when this event happened. <br />
<br />
Taylor, Joey and I had went to see MegaMind in 3D. I always get there early, because that is how I am. I hate to be late for movies. I want to see ALL the previews. We were at Regal in Richmond sitting and waiting. They were playing promos and low and behold Glenn Beck face popped up in a promo ad. The voice guy said........"America is Broke, Glenn Beck is going to fix it."<br />
<br />
In the complete silence of the theater, my daughter said in a thunderous tone......."YEAH RIGHT."<br />
<br />
Everyone heard her. I leaned over and informed that she was not burning her training bras or going on silent protest. Okay I might consider a silent protest. <br />
<br />
There is are moments when you are parent that you are so proud. First days of kindergarten, graduations, honor roll.......for me the it was it was at the movie theater waiting for MegaMind. <br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLNVuFfCSYSNf-OrSjU_huqgOh_8zPVU9AuagxtKctxsAF3h_d5DTuLGJ2GO4e2M-jji3sbwfpqthyphenhyphen12WX0Ngmrpo5vq61_H1fkPss0DoSq7XzVtEp3VfPfIH45JQGR6FLRYY7A7uy9yV/s1600/December+2010+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" s5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCLNVuFfCSYSNf-OrSjU_huqgOh_8zPVU9AuagxtKctxsAF3h_d5DTuLGJ2GO4e2M-jji3sbwfpqthyphenhyphen12WX0Ngmrpo5vq61_H1fkPss0DoSq7XzVtEp3VfPfIH45JQGR6FLRYY7A7uy9yV/s200/December+2010+011.JPG" width="166" /></a><br />
</div><span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=037583527X&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-84865119662894924332011-01-09T16:32:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:36:14.041-08:00Logan the American Citizen....well maybe<iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002HP8EKE&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>I was out shopping with my friend at Old Navy when I got a call from home. Logan wanted to go get an application from Subway next door. I told him to ask his father, he informed me that he was not home. I told him to wait and ask him. <br />
<br />
Later I received a text from my husband that said we had failed our son. <br />
<br />
"Why?"<br />
<br />
"He did not know our address, phone number, AND if he was legally allowed to be employed in the United States."<br />
<br />
I could not even respond. Yep, we had failed him. <br />
<br />
"Then he wanted to know if it was better to fill it out with a pencil.......a PENCIL......Yeah."<br />
<br />
"Oh dear Lord," was all I could say. <br />
<br />
Later when got home, Joe told me that he was going to live with us forever because the boy did not even know if he was an American citizen.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkhrKOd90QJz4q2gOlK5nypjnEwspP5XUuZVt2f8uXoCEBgp9z3JVZ0yojaIK3L33RsHZOBbRT5eABNQkskTXivnIxUrj7-2SkdykKWnpDk5Kvpvbr9Il202cB9QXcd887ZVFYfSNq7aG/s1600/ipOD+PICS+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwkhrKOd90QJz4q2gOlK5nypjnEwspP5XUuZVt2f8uXoCEBgp9z3JVZ0yojaIK3L33RsHZOBbRT5eABNQkskTXivnIxUrj7-2SkdykKWnpDk5Kvpvbr9Il202cB9QXcd887ZVFYfSNq7aG/s320/ipOD+PICS+004.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-26916963702104671142011-01-09T16:18:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:18:32.670-08:00Mr. Skipper: A Logan Story<span><iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B003O6FV8S&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe></span>I know that my teenager is going to screw up. I know he is going to test the boundaries. I accept that and expect it. But I would like to think that the child will at least have some common sense a long the way and try not to get caught. Apparently my expectations were slightly high. This is my own fault considering he tried to break into a snack machine with a plastic fork. <br />
<br />
So Friday, Logan had asked to have his girlfriend over. That is fine, she is a sweet girl and Logan had been good. <br />
<br />
About 10am that morning I got an email from his teacher. Great, I dreaded opening it. My instincts were right.<br />
<br />
"Logan skipped my class yesterday. I referred him for administrative discipline. Please address this at home."<br />
<br />
Now I skipped many times when I was a teenager. But I am a hypocrite and I thrive on it. I had all day to consider out my punishment strategy. <br />
<br />
He got home and I was outside, when I came in he and his girlfriend was sitting down looking at me with a look off anticipation. <br />
<br />
"Mom, I know you know what I did," Logan told me. <br />
<br />
Trying to control myself, "Alright, what happened."<br />
<br />
"Lunch was over and I was in the gym with my friends. We were playing two-on-two and when the bell rang I had to stay because then it would be an uneven number. So I stayed and played basketball and my teacher's assistant for that class walked by the gym and I waved and smiled."<br />
<br />
I looked at Logan's girlfriend and said matter-of-factly, "You are dating the dumbest guy at Freeman." <br />
<br />
She shook her head and said, "I know."<br />
<br />
"You're lucky your father is not here to deal with this, go into the other room so I can think about your punishment. Oh and why did you skip study call, aren't you behind?"<br />
<br />
"We are not suppose to work on that classes work there," now I know he is lying. <br />
<br />
So I calmed down and text my friends who had been waiting to find out what class her skipped. I came up with his punishment. <br />
<br />
I walked back to where he was, "Here is the deal, you have a choice. You can give up your XBox until you serve your detention at school OR I can take your girlfriend home and you will not be allowed to see her until your detention is served. Your choice."<br />
<br />
"Well of course, I will take the XBox suspension."<br />
<br />
"Remember, it is suppose to snow Tuesday(his day of detention) and you are going to be stuck in the house without video game privileges."<br />
<br />
"I know, I will still give up the XBox."<br />
<br />
So that was his punishment, later that night I was dropping his girlfriend off and I was telling her mom all about it. Out of the corner of the room, her husband said, "I know two other woman in this room who skipped a few classes in their date."<br />
<br />
I said, "This is true, but my middle name is hypocrite."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrt-rrGuwJzQGTRSYdXR-h7VQZRKCMeCDX-gIEw89Rv4fVuAOCcrd5KhES9ayVi3XscPwWoJGYHOklWNnV5VCV_1Jajj1HExOgRxPk2GYrRQuVJ6C4m_hTqQ-yRvf4gqRQClzC6IND33w/s1600/ipOD+PICS+003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJrt-rrGuwJzQGTRSYdXR-h7VQZRKCMeCDX-gIEw89Rv4fVuAOCcrd5KhES9ayVi3XscPwWoJGYHOklWNnV5VCV_1Jajj1HExOgRxPk2GYrRQuVJ6C4m_hTqQ-yRvf4gqRQClzC6IND33w/s320/ipOD+PICS+003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-19038550534392660442011-01-09T15:15:00.000-08:002011-01-15T18:27:28.242-08:00Dumbest Thing I Have Ever SaidAny parent who has a child or multiple children knows the general frustrations of being a parent. Sometimes the things they do infuriates a parent so much they can barely speak. <br />
<br />
With me, most of the time it is their names. I am yelling and for the life of me, I cannot remember what I named this child who done this dumb thing. But there are times that you are so mad, you say something so dumb you want to ask for the money back from the college you attended. Obviously you were overcharged. <br />
<br />
That incident happened to me the other night. My husband was in Florida and I was left at home with these three children. Of course, it is at that time that they decided it was necessary to argue with each other......constantly. The only time they stopped was when they were sleeping or........nope sleeping was pretty much it. <br />
<br />
Joey took his nightly bath, which gave me a few minutes of peace and quiet. <br />
<br />
Suddenly I hear arguing, this time it is Logan and Joey. I am trying to pretend like I do not hear anything. That is my usual tactic. Then Logan rushed in the room, with the baby behind begging him not to tell. <br />
<br />
"Mom, Joey has been stuffing a rag in the drain, so he can take a bath."<br />
<br />
Now the one thing that will instantly peeve off a parent is the destruction of the house and/or furniture. He apparently was wedging it deep in the drain and it was almost unreachable. Logan had pulled out and ran to tell me of his discovery. <br />
<br />
Then I could hear Joey tell me from behind Logan......"NO, NO." I knew he was lying. <br />
<br />
Blind fury hit me at that moment and it slipped out of my mouth before I could put it back in there. <br />
<br />
"If you ever do that again.......I will spank your face."<br />
<br />
Oh wow, that did not make sense. Plus I never ever hit my children in the face. Generally I am not a fan of spanking. So the fact I would even threaten something that was absurd was out of my character. But the verbiage alone, made he kids look at me like I lost my mind.<br />
<br />
Realizing I had said something so dumb, I tried to save face. If I started laughing Joey might have seen that as an opportunity to do it again. So I said something dumb to follow it up. <br />
<br />
"Don't ever take a bath again in my house while your living with me again," was my response. <br />
<br />
He looked at me and ran into the room trying to avoid anymore punishment. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZLvewP-8q9dl34XwoSiTCkOz6bI7B3OXwQ-YU102nBMeR6-74o0s9Hrs2VrLaplFKZgY1j1Oq9E6sjupjWTmOaPa2uhZDPEt71RBVhK34jbw50tJqNX6dk6CxnlUjrArNg4svuDFHQBx/s1600/Ipod+pics+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0ZLvewP-8q9dl34XwoSiTCkOz6bI7B3OXwQ-YU102nBMeR6-74o0s9Hrs2VrLaplFKZgY1j1Oq9E6sjupjWTmOaPa2uhZDPEt71RBVhK34jbw50tJqNX6dk6CxnlUjrArNg4svuDFHQBx/s320/Ipod+pics+002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Later that night I was telling my husband and he just started laughing. "The kids are making you crazy, aren't they?<br />
<br />
"You think."<br />
<br />
<iframe align="right" frameborder="0" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=t0969-20&o=1&p=8&l=bpl&asins=B002ZG981E&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr" style="align: right; height: 245px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 5px; width: 131px;"></iframe>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-7409629802196367082011-01-01T15:49:00.000-08:002011-01-01T15:50:34.874-08:002011's New Years ResolutionsWell I generally don't make resolutions because I tend to forget day-to-day what my resolutions are for any given year. So I thought I would blog, so I can at least remember them. <br />
<br />
1. Cook one new dish a week.<br />
<br />
2. Get organized in every faucet of my life<br />
<br />
3. Manage my time better<br />
<br />
4. Spend more time on my blog and less time on facebook<br />
<br />
5. Spend more time texting, emailing, or calling my friends.<br />
<br />
6. Exercise more and eat healthy<br />
<br />
7. Find balance in my life<br />
<br />
8. Control my temper and try to redirect my energy<br />
<br />
9. Spend more quality time with the kiddos<br />
<br />
10. Spend more time listening instead of talkingCharityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-34428401959828090402010-12-24T10:39:00.000-08:002010-12-24T10:39:59.096-08:00It's a Family TraditionKids grow so fast and mine are no exception. Over the year I have tried to work in many traditions that they can carry on when they have their own family. <br />
<br />
My parents never really had any traditions that I can think of at the moment. I take that back, they tried to have a few. We would open all the presents from our parents on Christmas Eve. Then Santa would come and we would have our big presents that morning. But our Santa did not wrap our presents. So one year, I informed my parents that I did not like it that way. I wanted to only open presents on Christmas morning and Santa had to wrap the presents and if he did not, my parents needed too. For some reason, they listened. Eventually I allowed every one to open one present Christmas Eve. Not sure why the took orders from a small child, but atlas they let me run the show when it came to Christmas. I am destined to be a CEO one day. <br />
<br />
I know most people are surprised, but I am just as bossy in my thirties.....shocking I know. <br />
<br />
Here is a list of traditions as of 2010:<br />
<br />
<strong>Secret Santa</strong><br />
This is our favorite tradition because it was inspired by my limited budget. Every year on Thanksgiving, we throw all our names in hat. We choose a person to be our Secret Santa. Then on the Saturday before Christmas, we go out as a family and buy our person a present. That present is opened on Christmas Eve. One of the benefits to this is the fact that we do not have go nuts buying each person a present from each person. I am all for simple. It is a fun night, that usually ends with us having dinner at the end of the night. I generally end up knowing who each person has because no one can keep a secret. Joey loves this tradition and adheres to it except the secret part. <br />
<br />
This year we added a twist, we put a theme behind the present. So some has a sports theme or an "As Seen on TV" theme. So we will see how it goes this year. It could be a diaster. <br />
<br />
<strong>Fondue before Santa</strong><br />
I hate to cook and I am generally bad at it for the most part. So on Christmas Eve, I do not have to make a mess cooking dinner,instead we have fondue. I get a dark beer and some blocks of cheese, and every one eats fondue. The kids love it but it never fails that we spend about ten minutes trying to fish out the bread Joey loses in the cheese. The best part, easy clean up. <br />
<br />
<strong>Pajamas for Everyone</strong><br />
The boys are not a fan of this one, but every year Taylor and I buy everyone one jammies. We go get coffee and head to JCPenny. She picks out my jammies and I pick out hers. Here is another present I let the everyone open on Christmas Evee. I do this for two reasons, one it encourages the boys to wear pajamas and two they are dressed for pictures in the morning. It is really fun to just have daughter time. I would like to say this is an original idea, but I totally stole this idea from my old boss, Sandee at Arredondo Farms. I totally told her that I stole the idea. <br />
<br />
<strong>A Christmas Story</strong><br />
It is just does not feel like Christmas Eve in the Rupp's house until we hear those bells ring and see the Red Rider BB Gun in the window. The music comes on and that voice starts off the monologue about how little Ralphie wants to get his Red Rider for Christmas. When his mother tells him that he will shoot his eye out, it is officially Christmas in our house. It is our subsitute for snow. Christmas Story plays over and over throughout the night and all is right with the world. <br />
<br />
Those are the basic tradtions we have, we add to them every year. This year Joey and I went out to buy a stocking for everyone. I am pretty sure that will turn into our own little tradition. <br />
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Well time to make the bread, so I am off. From my family to yours, I hope every one has a safe, happy holiday and a super merry Christmas. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_B2zlYhysRRDrXFGgZBrD6S6I9r4x3Bn04ZWApg52dnaLqijg8RPZpBf7DRuWW5DE3a0ZWTtSfDn6keSPsfFhUmrZg9Uu4rT_43W2hzgNHeqQYHoNYbDbnxjXFGowKcTMrlW4Lg3Z6DS_/s1600/Christmas+2010+015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_B2zlYhysRRDrXFGgZBrD6S6I9r4x3Bn04ZWApg52dnaLqijg8RPZpBf7DRuWW5DE3a0ZWTtSfDn6keSPsfFhUmrZg9Uu4rT_43W2hzgNHeqQYHoNYbDbnxjXFGowKcTMrlW4Lg3Z6DS_/s320/Christmas+2010+015.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-59834860460641095172010-11-17T16:40:00.000-08:002010-11-17T17:54:43.005-08:00The Most Embarrassing Moment of my Mommy Life<div style="text-align: center;">I am sitting here at Barnes and Nobles eating my Lucy's Gluten Free cookies and drinking a Carmel Machiato. Desperately trying to focus on my senior thesis but I am having no luck. So I must tell this story and get it out of my head before I can move on. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I am not the type of person who discusses my finances with anyone unless it is absolutely necessary. I think finances overall should be private. I most certainly do not discuss it with kids because I want them to have a time in their life when they are not worried about how bills are paid.. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">However I want them to value money, so I am constantly telling them how long someone who makes minimum wage would have to work to earn the toy or item they are requesting.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It utterly makes me nuts for them to leave lights on when it is easy way to conserve money and energy. My biggest irritation is the bathroom light that is left constantly and constantly telling them to shut it off.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> Somewhere during my nagging to turn off the lights and to close the refrigerator door when it is not in use was sending the wrong message. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">HERE IS WHY I CAME TO THIS CONCLUSION.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Today around 4pm, I got a call from the school resource officer. Of course, you guessed it, it was Joey's school. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mrs. Rupp I want to let you know that Joey has been invited to participate in the Police and Friends program on Dec. 5th, " he said. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Great, let grab a pen," I said naively thinking it was some type of program for creative kids or something. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He proceeded to tell me that Joey was selected to met and have breakfast with police officers in the county. Then after that Joey would be given a certain amount of cash for whatever he wanted. They asked that he bought clothes or shoes and then he could pick a toy for himself but they asked it not be a fake gun or knife. They wanted to insure that Joey had something under the tree for Christmas. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It took me a moment because I am slow like that and then the light bulb went on.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Sir, can I ask you a question?" I responded.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He said, "Sure."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Has been put in this program because someone thought that our family was impoverished," I used that word because truly I just hate people to think I am poor or uneducated. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">There was a pause, "Well yes ma'am."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I rubbed my hand across my face as if to say, what in the heck are these children telling people. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Sir, while your program sounds wonderful and I appreciate the thought but honestly I think there are other children out their who benefit much more. I would not just feel right letting Joey participate when it could go to someone more deserving."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The officer had a shocked tone in his voice, "well I appreciate your honesty."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Sir my son will wear his play shoes to school sometimes or his play jeans, if I am not paying attention but he has almost everything he needs. While my husband and I are not comfortable, we are not on the edge of eviction either. We have planned for Christmas since July and a lot of Joey's Christmas is done," okay now I was just getting defensive. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He then told me the school counselor referred me. I told about the fire but that we did have insurance and promised we okay and he thank me and I thanked him and said our goodbyes. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I stormed out of the kitchen with a red face and turned into mommy hulk. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"WHAT DID YOU DO?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now Joe was freaking out, we both looked at Joey. He stammered and said nothing mom. I have not talk to the lady since Me-Maw went to heaven. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So I ranted and raved for awhile to my boss, and then my awesome neighbors. I informed all the kids, that we were not poor we just gave them impression so they had low expectations(okay I did not say that but wanted to).</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I decided to go to Barnes and Nobles to work on my paper, I walked into the living room and all the lights were off. I asked my daughter why they lights were off.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mom, we do not have the money to pay the electric bill," she responded. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I told her not to listen to me, turn the lights on I can afford the stupid power bill. I walked all through the house turning lights on, and even the bathroom light where no one was using it. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-36105939341128586572010-11-11T10:18:00.000-08:002010-11-14T10:16:30.257-08:00My kids are future Lawyers: The Story of the Contract<div style="text-align: center;">So it is Veterans day, a day to celebrate the selflessness of the those who served this great country and all the freedoms we hold dear like contractional law. To celebrate my two youngest got out of school early. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The two of the them came home and preformed their normal routine which is normally argueing. As I am working, and I hear Joey talking to Taylor and his voice was gradually starting to raise. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Taylor we had a contract, you have to play with me," Joey yelled. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"No, I don't, Joey leave me alone," she responded.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"But we have a contract and you signed it," he yelled back at her. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It is at this time, I decide to intervene."What is going on?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Joey stomps out into the living room. "MOM, Taylor and I had a contract that I would not bother her for ten days and it has been 10 days. "</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I just looked at him for a moment trying to understand what the heck he was talking about. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"So you and Taylor have a contract? I asked. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Yes, mom," he said. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"So was this contact verbal or written?" Thinking slightly this is a ridiculous question and that he probably did not understand. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"It was written mom," he stated with confidence. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So I asked him to bring it to me thinking the could have not possibly wrote a contact. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He stomped back out with an 8x10 paper and some red marker and it said:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This contract says that Joey wil not annoy Taylor for 24 hours. That if I want to be by myself then I can for 1 hour each day than he will leave me alone after and 1 pick the game. </span></strong><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIye2hGUlamjbWDDgqDhJH1E77win9lwq2DgOx-w-9JDfmS7R27s-IYfkGVTnjFaXMegVb-Z8C_OXfADgoCk8q64HjRPupOPo8AlW-Awl-Cyb6H_Bxzzvl95rBzye7w-MpO6QsUPeqd5td/s1600/886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIye2hGUlamjbWDDgqDhJH1E77win9lwq2DgOx-w-9JDfmS7R27s-IYfkGVTnjFaXMegVb-Z8C_OXfADgoCk8q64HjRPupOPo8AlW-Awl-Cyb6H_Bxzzvl95rBzye7w-MpO6QsUPeqd5td/s320/886.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I then looked at my son with a satisfied look on his face.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I then looked at him and then my husband, "They both signed and initialed it."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Yeah, mom the intitials were Joey's idea," Taylor said now in on the conversation. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Well Taylor, you have a legal and binding contract, you have to abide by the contract, " I responded.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My husband looked at me, "that is blog worthy."</div><div align="center"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-12995754959531179722010-11-06T10:39:00.000-07:002010-11-06T10:41:16.733-07:00Guess Blogger: Amazing what you can find in a child's cast<div style="text-align: center;">My boys are now 10 and 12 and I thought we were doing pretty well without them breaking any bones or having any major medical emergencies. That was until 3 weeks ago when Mark came in crying because he had fallen playing football with his brother and friends. Well I should rephrase that apparently he was standing there waiting for someone to throw the ball when he fell over….</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now my son Mark is not really a crier, if he cries for more than 2 minutes he’s really hurt. So when he first came in I gave him ice, a hug and told him to sit on the couch. He continued to cry and I quickly made the decision that he needed an x-ray. So off to the ER we went…</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRciZHTu0pk1VvADwWgcn6VFyoFxmabMgQaGcDvrZcN_QaNp4g7-NG4ZkAk0PnLzODDy6bdtX6MC0ha2jcuZBUo_Mgb0TIc1aiB5uPlmQmKkEaBSiJYBa_BB-k13SVAeRWMQS5ZUwjQkFd/s1600/Mark11.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRciZHTu0pk1VvADwWgcn6VFyoFxmabMgQaGcDvrZcN_QaNp4g7-NG4ZkAk0PnLzODDy6bdtX6MC0ha2jcuZBUo_Mgb0TIc1aiB5uPlmQmKkEaBSiJYBa_BB-k13SVAeRWMQS5ZUwjQkFd/s320/Mark11.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong>The night it happened.</strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">By the time we got to the ER he had stopped crying, we walked into a full waiting room. I leaned over and whispered in his ear that he should start crying again…is that wrong???!!! Whatever…it worked we were in and out of there in a 1 ½!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">It is indeed broken. Now the adventure began of keeping it dry and his hand clean…you know how little boys are! Well 2 weeks after getting the cast on, he “accidentally” put it in the bathtub…</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I called and made an appointment for him to get a new cast. He got a lecture from the nurse who walked us back and from the guy who cut off the cast. The doctor was very nice and didn’t make him feel bad. So the guy is cutting off the cast and the doctor is talking to Mark. All of a sudden the guy pulls out the top to a mechanical pencil from inside the cast…he says what’s this???</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Mark says “I don’t know how that got in there!!!!” We all just burst out laughing! Apparently he left his arm lying around somewhere and someone else used a pencil to scratch it! The pencil top had also been in his cast for a week…</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwQGTOmJNBPBNpprjzAFPh4MkQKZu4lPa3Bdnv2v6zMivtEl5qV1h8uUVxW7IlOU7ZvePeHaOEUUIdW-PxNAB4640tcYeoSs8XQovF-0y0quAzpM4oXN9OWZ6LXtdaToUxyJ_GGU_lQiP/s1600/mark111.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidwQGTOmJNBPBNpprjzAFPh4MkQKZu4lPa3Bdnv2v6zMivtEl5qV1h8uUVxW7IlOU7ZvePeHaOEUUIdW-PxNAB4640tcYeoSs8XQovF-0y0quAzpM4oXN9OWZ6LXtdaToUxyJ_GGU_lQiP/s320/mark111.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This would be the first cast; he now has a glow in the dark one. Hopefully he can make it until Wednesday without sticking in the tub or losing something in it! He should be getting it off Wednesday!</div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-48369431140615812742010-11-05T16:47:00.000-07:002010-11-05T16:58:57.311-07:00Barkley and Me: The War Rages On<div style="text-align: center;">My whole life I loved kitties. I just wanted to cuddle and smush their little face. However my step-dad did not like cats at all. So as I child, I was never really around many of them. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In 1992 I moved to my dad's house in Florida. For a while it was just him and I in a big huge house. So when I was offered a cat, I jumped on it. Being the bad teenager I was at the time, I brougt the new kitty home without my dear ole' dad's permission. He still loves to tell the story of how he woke to go to work and opens his bedroom door and hears a little meow. I do not know if I can describe the anger in his eyes and he has never let me live it down. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I named the cat Diana, she was precious. However it became clear she loved my dad and not me. I was an annoyance who changed her litter box. So when I moved out later, I did not take her with me. Once again, something that irritated my dad. In fact for years every time I talked to him he wanted to know when I was going to pick up my cat. I truly believe he would never let me. He did however offer to give her to me as a wedding present but atlas I got a toaster instead. When she passed, my poor dad was devasted. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When I met my husband he had a black lab. She loved me at first until I started sleeping on her side of the bed. Then she would just chew up my socks when I slept. Nesta and I had a rocky relationship in the beginning. I think were both trying to claim the alpha role in the house. Atlas I won and she became my special friend. We had her for 11 years and I adored her deeply. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">When we lost her, I could not bare another dog. She was too special. My best friend Chelsea offered to bring me a kitten. Considering my general history with cats, she promised to bring me the sweetest cat she could find.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So in June 2009, she brought the cutest black kitten ever born. I named him Backley, my husband insisted a boy cat would love me. I am not listening to him again. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This little thing just looked at me. He was cutest kitty I had ever seen. I genuely do not think he looked at me like I was the custest human he ever had seen. Moreover I think he thought I was a giant two year old wanting to cuddle with him. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHJLfT971-txa_kwXXxYYH6CEP8wHUgS9aDWf2KCL-fkL_a-D_nS5cKxvW-1PhyphenhyphenYOAjXc_qL2bTKPBamUbjIXiZ4QfFOLc84pUGnu6nLz9br4MwOP28x_W7Xx3jgSivHE8XRbOsnC83z6/s1600/Barkley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAHJLfT971-txa_kwXXxYYH6CEP8wHUgS9aDWf2KCL-fkL_a-D_nS5cKxvW-1PhyphenhyphenYOAjXc_qL2bTKPBamUbjIXiZ4QfFOLc84pUGnu6nLz9br4MwOP28x_W7Xx3jgSivHE8XRbOsnC83z6/s320/Barkley.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><strong><em>Tell me that is not one of the cutest faces ever. </em></strong></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">For the first year I pretty much annoyed him. In that year my husband also came up with a European voice for him and a facebook page. He kinda took on a Stewie persona in the house. Always threatening through my husband. One day I sat Joe down and told him that he was not channeling the cat and he was from Alachua and not Europe.<br />
<br />
He became quite famous among family and friends. Everyone would ask me about my little friend. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then I startd verbally arguing with him(my husband voice) about things as it it was real. I really think Barkely believes I am nuts. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">As he got older he started to do things, I think to make me think I was scrazy.</div><div style="text-align: center;">One day I was sitting in the living room, I heard a big crash. No one was home, so it was not my kids. Then I ran into kitchen as my little man ran out. On the kitchen counter the was a glass of water tipped over and the counter was soaked in water. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">I walked into the hall, the cat is sitting, licking his paw, and looked up at me as if to say, "What happened mom?" I put my hands on my hips and walked away. I thought I heard little laughter. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He geneally seems annoyed that we did not buy a sixth table chair for him. He takes his seat at dinner every night until one of us kicks him off. In fact on night we were having steak, he jumped up on the table and stole Logan steak while we talking about how cute he was on the table. He tried to eat the whole dang thing. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">One morning he decided it was play time, he ran back and forth through the house for an hour. Of course I was the only one he woke up, after throwing several things in his general direction he just would not stop. I gave up, and went into the living room to find him sleeping. That morning every time I walked by him I woke him up on purpose. He looked at me like I was the jerk. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This year I dressed as him for Halloween and we took pics together. I cannot tell you how annoyed he was that I was forcing him to take pictures. He generally only wants me to pick him up if I have milk or ham for him. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He is also notorius for peeing in boxes. You cannot leave on the floor for more than a minute. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">The cat is a constant pain, but I love his little face. I have many more stories. I thought it would be good to lay the foundation of our relationship. Sometimes I swear he thinks his job is to push me into a mommy meltdown.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div align="center"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-76287265984639381322010-10-08T13:43:00.000-07:002010-11-05T13:29:45.804-07:00Partner in Crime<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Throughout my time as being a parent there is one thing for certain, I am not alone in this war. I have back up to this crazy battle. He is my partner in crime. Many times as a woman you tend to forget you are not alone in the craziness. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Many times when our children have done something silly or inappropriate, my husband is my rational side. He is the one I yell, complain, and cry to when the kids lose their mind. In fact sometimes, I think my husband is the most rational person in the house. Parenting many times is about partnership and that is what he is to me, my partner in crime, my accomplise, and my witness. I am so excited that my husband will never legally have to testify against me, one of the benefits of marriage. </span></span><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Single moms should be elevated to star quality, because to deal with those people alone and remain sane is amazing. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Many times I forget to tell him how much I value his partnership. So I want him to know, that I know I am not alone. He is my General, my number 2, and my therapist in many cases. The best thing about him most times is that he sits and lets me rant and rave about the kids inability to turn off the lights,being suspended for breaking into vending machine with plastic utensils, or the constant bickering. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I realize how much I loved my husband the other day when one incident happened. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I was in the restroom getting ready for the gym. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><b>I went to grab my hair brush and I knocked his brand new deodorant into the toilet. </b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I pulled the deodorant out of the toilet, threw it in the garbage, and washed my hands. I walked into the living room....."Hey we need to go to the store tonight, I dropped your Old Spice deodorant in the toilet."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">He just looked at me with THAT LOOK on his face. The one that said, WOW I married this woman. The one I get every time I lose my keys or leave my credit card in the ATM. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">"Baby, that is a testament on how much I love you. I could have just rinsed it off and put it back on the counter. Less </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">you forget, our children do silly things all the time and I am pretty sure it is genetic."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">He has to deal with me and my tanturms and the kids nutty things they do. My children come by their tendency to do crazy things from my side of the gene pool. The least I could do was buy him new deordrant that was not full of toilet water. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">I turned and walked out of my room thinking, wow I really do love this man. Deodorant is expensive and in the past I may have just washed it off, so for me to just throw it away is a good demonstration of my love. You know it is the little things that make a marriage work. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
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</span></span></div><div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjho6ZmDD1_fsWqftCOBPnm-oF2XWeruhSi1iTTNu3RbuUJaiOqKcaF7ejNLM3ThszpJTorDmPeF2_28RCgIyjB6SWkab37a5L0DxV8xOt7N_fM9oWbjcZjRlCwr-pcRhJOWpN4-vojpqc0/s1600/My+birthday+Continued+005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjho6ZmDD1_fsWqftCOBPnm-oF2XWeruhSi1iTTNu3RbuUJaiOqKcaF7ejNLM3ThszpJTorDmPeF2_28RCgIyjB6SWkab37a5L0DxV8xOt7N_fM9oWbjcZjRlCwr-pcRhJOWpN4-vojpqc0/s200/My+birthday+Continued+005.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-74392181692507965432010-10-04T18:19:00.000-07:002010-10-06T13:56:41.955-07:00Dinner Conversations<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDzFUycydrRZXdyZlOXXZrVCjFE8qQhrmbdGtxPJYcFfVs5v11fH44h5Bg68obDreIOkZbCJ8eDI1HHy-z1VUOv_Bhfh1b1NhpGdA8MlOWkzDZkb_6pxe7_m_NdK5Mvm36w7q4w5CAd3w/s1600/Kings+Dominion+Halloween+haunt+025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCDzFUycydrRZXdyZlOXXZrVCjFE8qQhrmbdGtxPJYcFfVs5v11fH44h5Bg68obDreIOkZbCJ8eDI1HHy-z1VUOv_Bhfh1b1NhpGdA8MlOWkzDZkb_6pxe7_m_NdK5Mvm36w7q4w5CAd3w/s400/Kings+Dominion+Halloween+haunt+025.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So due to the fact we somewhat like the kids sometimes, we always sit down for dinner every night. The television is out sight so we can focus on family time. Each child has an opportunity to talk about their day. The first round usually goes pretty smooth with little argument. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Tonight the two oldest decided to discuss their constant irritations with each other. Taylor informed us Logan he did not change his clothes for a couple of days and he informed us that she did not brush her hair and her tooth brush. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">My husband, in his infinite wisdom, reminded both of them that both of them are guilty of various things. Logan of course had improved and made his case about how clean he was now that school started. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"> This is lead the conversation led to shaving. We started talking about Logan first experiences shaving. Any one that has read my blog or seen my facebook status might remember Joey's attempt to shave his face on his 7th birthday. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Logan would not be outdone. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Recently Logan shaved one armpit. He reminded us of this at the dinner table. I knew he had done it but for whatever reason I never got a straight answer out of him on why. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">So while we were all sharing at the table, I asked him why he had shaved his arm pit. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He told me he only shaved one because he wanted to know what would happen. I am guessing he wanted to compare.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Staring at the child that I carried in my body for 9 months, I had to ask him if noticed a difference. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>"Yeah, one itched and the other didn't. I won't do that again."</b></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-64093687916721599512010-10-03T06:51:00.000-07:002010-10-03T06:51:54.567-07:00Taylor: The Bee Incident<div align="center">My daughter is pretty much the quiet rational child. I think it is in large part because she is the middle child. She has witnessed the boys' stellar decision making skills and has pretty much done the opposite. In fact, when she was little I use to tell her that I was going to put a cow bell on her because I could never find firgure out where she was because she was so quiet.</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">In fact, I used to tell call her my little Ninja because I was constantly freaking out when we were out in public. Most of the time I would look for her and call out and she would say, "I am right behind you mommy."</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">But this praticular night she demonstrated that she was truly my child. Here level-headed behavior went right out the window with one little insect. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">It was late Saturday afternoon and all three of the my kids wanted to go to the park to play. Since there is a playground in the complex I had no objections. I planned to start dinner and work on some school work. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Not even five minutes later, my oldest child charged in the house and proclaimed that Taylor was stung by a bee and she is on her way upstairs. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">So I hunkered down in the living room waiting for the child like I was waiting for a hurricane to make land fall. She flew in the door with hystericial fury. </div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div align="center">"MMMMMOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM, it hurts," she exclaimed with tears in her eyes. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Logan just looked at her and walked out the door as if to say, "yeah I am not sticking around for the drama."</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">"What happened?" I questioned. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Well I would try to give the full conversation but it was pretty much incomprehensible. The jist of it was she was on the playground and bee stung her finger. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I took her into the kitchen and washed the area while simtaniously trying to convince her that it was okay for me to examine it. I had to promise I would not touch it. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I have never been stung by a bee but I have been stung by a wasp when I was pregnant with Taylor. I was at my OB/GYN's office when it happened. My doctor put tobacco on it. All the modern medicine in the world and he gave me tobacco.<br />
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We had no tobacco in the house at the time. So I posted on my facebook status I needed help and started to google. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Taylor who was now holding her finger and making wierd whimpering noise began making sense again. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">"Mom, why would a bee do this to me. I never hurt animals, in fact I am nice to all of them. I never hurt bees mom," she inquired with these huge horse tears in her eyes. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">"Baby, the bee has no way of knowing that you are a good person, it is just their instinct," I said and pulled her close to me. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Balancing her and my computer, I continued to google bee stings. At that time, my mom called on my cell. She apparently had seen my facebook status and had a solution. She wanted to put bleach it. The moment I asked her what bleach would do, Taylor had looked at me as if to see.......you are NOT putting bleach on my wound. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I was not putting bleach on the sting because I did not have bleach and the idea of doing that seemed wrong. So I put ice on her sting and that seemed to help her for a while. It calmed her down until daddy came in the room, then suddenly she was hysterics again. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I would love to tell you the conversation she had with my husband, but once again it was incomprehensible. But it ended with........."AND grandma wants me to put bleach on it."</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Joe looked at me and said, "Your not putting bleach on it."</div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">I rolled my eyes, of course I was not putting bleach on it. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">Taylor and I snuggled on the couch for an hour and she was finally calm enough to eat dinner. Then one of my FB friends told me to put a penny on it. Taylor loved that idea. So we took a penny and put it on her finger and covered it with a bandaid. She was happy for the rest of the night. The next morning she informed me that it worked but her fingered had changed colors. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center">So am not sure if it worked or helped her pshycologically, but it calmed her down. </div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"> <b> My mom to this day insists bleach was a better alternative. </b></div><div align="center"></div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1854112464470748555.post-73592699054459741942010-09-30T17:57:00.000-07:002010-11-05T14:29:07.061-07:00Afterschool Kids Conversations: Possible Carbon Monoxide Contamination<div style="text-align: center;">My daughter got home from school late this afternoon. Today was an extra special day, she was issued her first school laptop. She was bragging about how it and how it is a dell with Windows 7. I just let her go on and on. The school also provided her with a really nice laptop bag. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Mom we have to keep the laptop in the bag at all times or they will take the laptop away from us," she said with the most serious face. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Oh course true to the fact that I am completely immature responded, "Well how are you going use it if it is always in the bag?"</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">This child that I gave birth to looked at me as if I was the dumbest person on the planet. Momentarily she stared at me as if to day,"really.......great I am related to this lady." Then she walked out of the room. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">At that time I was chatting with my boss on AIM and relayed the story. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">She responded, "I guess your daughters does not deal in absolutes."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I don't think my daughter has a sense of humor, " I IMed her back. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn6RNsHdnanY5rUMYQ6gbWjn08_lPuZ5Pwuw0fv1zvpl3eAw7rVJMVLCWwOO6frt1rXWp9XgFwftssVkRYlgSa5OHkCvjTewzaH41CnuLAdWpyQCxLFa3r57lCinnx0w1w4mBtxhI6dpf/s1600/Apple+Mountain+059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisn6RNsHdnanY5rUMYQ6gbWjn08_lPuZ5Pwuw0fv1zvpl3eAw7rVJMVLCWwOO6frt1rXWp9XgFwftssVkRYlgSa5OHkCvjTewzaH41CnuLAdWpyQCxLFa3r57lCinnx0w1w4mBtxhI6dpf/s320/Apple+Mountain+059.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">About 5 minutes later, Joey came in the room and pulled out a pack bowl of frosted flakes cereal from his backpack. This was the second day he had pulled out frosted flakes from his backpack. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Seeing the confusion on my face he immediately came up with a story. "Mom, someone just gave this to me, it was weird." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"So you are telling me someone just walked up to you and gave you frosted flakes, two days in a row?" I inquired. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"Yes."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"I don't believe you. I think you are buying breakfast from school," I stated. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"No....No...I give the lady my number, " he said and I rolled my eyes. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"So you eat at home and then go to school and buy breakfast. Then you come home and tell me that some random person gave you frosted flakes."</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">"No, mom I give the lady my lunch number." </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">He then walked into the kitchen with his cereal. I just looked at my husband with that look that says....you know our kids are completely nuts.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Once again I relayed the story to my boss on AIM.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Her response, "Is there a Caron Monoxide leak in your house?"</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Charityhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06753883157391321240noreply@blogger.com0