Graduating

I am still sick. I am going to do what the sick do when the sick blog. The sick do photo montages. Because the sick are lazy. Say it with me - LAAAY-ZEEEE. My brain's not working right, so funny's taking a nap. I'm on photo autopilot.

Last night my Little Guy graduated from Webelos I to Webelos II. Next January he will graduate to Boy Scouts. Rather than bore you with pictures of the ceremony (mostly because I used the wrong ISO setting and the pictures are all grainy and fuzzy), I choose to delight (that's rather a strong use of the word in this context - just go with it) you with faces at the cake and punch reception following the ceremony. The faces are familiar at this point. The angles - I told you I'm sick, right?

But first, my Little Guy in his uniform, all handsome and proud. And remembering to stand like a man instead of a slouch.


Isn't he handsome? He's worked so hard all year to earn badges and pins and was proud of himself. He's a good kid.



An okay kid. Whichever you prefer.



Here's the man who was giving him weird finger ears. Say hello to my Hunny. I kinda like his old man glasses. People used to call him Al Borland from Tool Time. Now he gets into the whole professor look.

And Maybelline, as we're leaving the house, asks Little Guy, "So do any of your little scout friends have big brothers?" Rein it in there, girl. Soon I'll be padlocking her doors and windows.


Check out Oatmeal Head, recently having discovered the opposite gender himself. And I thought Maybelline had it bad. If one more giggly girl calls my house looking for him at ten o'clock at night ... so help me ...



Not to be outdone for weird angles, Little Guy completes our set. Collect them all!


I can't leave you without my favorite photo of the evening. Okay, second favorite. The one of the Hunny is my favorite. And I'm trying to figure out Photoshop well enough to get rid of the minivan and other background junk.

To all of you out there who have caught my cold, I'm truly sorry. Get better. To the four or five year old who gave it to me, there's a bench with your name on it, kid, and I'll be right behind ya, pushing.

Until I write again ...

Flea

A New Friend

This just in! Fred and Bessie are leaving upstate New York and the ever hospitable home of Dlyn, headed to Connecticut! Check out their' departure!

*achoo*
Excuse me while I mouth-breathe for a bit.

Since I'm still sick, and still scanning pictures (thanks for the heads up, Mom. Two years - really?), I'm simply going to introduce you all to our new family friend, Pete. Bloggy internets, say hello to Pete.


Isn't he handsome? And you single ladies, he's available. He also gets along well with kids, you single moms.


Oop! But he doesn't like to share his chips. Here's a better example of his tolerance for children

See? Little Guy is torturing him and he handles it beautifully.


See how chummy they are? They even have the same smile. I love Pirate Pete.

A big thank you to Grandma, who so kindly provided today's entertainment. She works for Frito and brought Pete home for us. Little Guy finished blowing him up this morning at breakfast then left him by the front door. I wish I'd had the camera ready when the Hunny came in from his morning walk and jumped two feet. And again when he came home for lunch and jumped. But especially when Maybelline came in from school and started screaming at him. Dang. That's what I get for being sick. Not prepared.

Y'all, thanks for your well wishes. I'm feeling better today. It should be reduced to a mere sniffle tomorrow.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Taking a Sick Day

We moved to Tulsa a year and a half ago - December 2006. For the first year, we were all sick. Usually more than one of us at a time, and not pansy little colds either. We were on more antibiotics in our first year here than our entire family had been in the previous 15 years. I was grateful for the antibiotics, really, even though I usually steer clear of the things. I'd had this wicked recurring ear ache since 2000 and the antibiotic knocked it out.

Then at Christmas I noticed that no one was sick. One year of sick and it was over. Except for Little Guy, who really isn't sick, just always stuffy and snoring and congested. Allergy meds do nothing. The tonsils are coming out. But we've all been well for months. Until today.

Last night, really. My eyes, nose and throat itched. I knew exactly what it was and blocked off my calendar for the rest of the week. Sure enough, I'm deep into a cold today. Yay! My annual cold.

So what have I done with my day, you ask? Did I sleep? Rest? No. I spent half the morning ironing, since I love to iron. Then attended a volunteer luncheon at school. Cafeteria food will not cure the common cold, in case your mother ever tried to pull that one over on you as a kid. The afternoon, though - ahhh. That's where it gets interesting.

Remember awhile back I insisted I'd be dismantling my photo albums and scanning the photos? Which one of you has done this? Tell me. Because I'm coming through my computer to grab you by the lapels and shake you for not warning me. None of your, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I not mention how much work that would be?" from you, missy. Come 'ere, let me smack you hard.

I thought, "What a nice, relaxing (here my ill brain goes blank so I'll say) thing to do while I'm sick!" The Hunny showed me how to scan pictures last night and it seemed simple. All I had to do was take the photo out, scan and put it back, right? I'd forgotten all about my plan to organize everything. So today I scanned one little photo booklet - the kind the grocery stores assembled from one roll of film? Film? That's the stuff that went into those old fashioned cameras that your grandmother used when she was a child. Scanning those 24 pictures only took about half an hour. Then I had to make folders for the different photo categories I thought I might have and drop the photos into the appropriate folder. After naming each photo.

All of that just took too much energy from my poor sick body. I stepped away from the computer, grabbed half a shelf of photo albums, scoured my closet for used gift bags and began emptying the albums, sorting them into gift bags. So far I have the Early Flea bag, the Pre-Flea bag, the Newlywed bag, the First Florida House bag, the Second Florida House bag and the Friends and Family box. And about half of the albums emptied. Once the albums are empty I'll have to sort the bags into more specific piles - times and events and such - then start scanning, before putting them all back into albums. Eliminating the duplicates will be fun, too. I plan to make albums for the kids with those.

So you'll excuse me if I take some NyQuil and hit the sack a little early?

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Case of the Missing Eyebrows

So last Monday night, the Hunny and I spent time with friends. At their house. And we were not home. In fact, we didn't get home until after Little Guy's bedtime and he was in bed. Oddly. The next morning I was having a tough time waking up, so I didn't really notice Little Guy's eyebrows. In fact, it wasn't until Tuesday afternoon, when he was badgering Oatmeal Head that I heard Oatmeal Head yell (for my benefit, I'm sure), "Oh my gosh! What did you do to your eyebrows?"

Of course I call Little Guy downstairs to see what madness has occurred. At first glance I thought he'd gotten into my waxing box, which I'd left on the counter as a reminder to do my own eyebrows, and I had to take Maybelline to guitar, so I left fuming just a tad. And I left Little Guy denying that he'd done anything. Like maybe rats gnawed them off in the middle of the night.

Evening comes, I'm home giving him the third degree, getting angry tears of denial and harsh statements questioning my love for him since I don't believe him. I just sent him to his room till dinner, refusing to be drawn in to his arguments of how it couldn't have been him who sheared his eyebrows off. Lou. That's what it was. Lou scratched the eyebrows off while they were playing. Stupid cat. Uh huh.

So the Hunny comes home, trying his best not to laugh, while I'm still steaming a little, and questions him. It turns out that our bored son snipped away with scissors the night before because he was bored. Talk about a role reversal - the Hunny thinks it's amusing (he was always the one to be incensed) and reminds me that the other two went through similar things when they hit the puberty wall. He argued against punishment, stating that Little Guy having to live with badly trimmed eyebrows was punishment enough.

Never one to humiliate my children *cough* I penciled in Little Guy's eyebrows for the rest of the week before he left for school. Yes. Yes I did. And I know that you didn't read all the way through this just for the story. Unfortunately, I didn't get a good picture of him without the penciled in brows before yesterday and it turns out his hair grows quickly. Here's what I have:


I know. It's nothing like it was on Tuesday. Sorry. The arches (he has the most wonderfully arched brows!) are what took the brunt of the cutting. And he didn't want penciling this morning, since it really is growing back in. That or the guys at school gave him a hard time about wearing makeup.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Longest Day Ever

What a long day! And I haven't been reading anyone's blogs! I promise to catch up on you all this weekend, okay?

Woolaroc rocks, you all. I took nearly 300 photos, and half of them were of little boys' backs. I had five boys, including Little Guy, and they ran everywhere, including up and down rocks. Until the last 20 minutes, when they allowed me to snap away while they caught tadpoles. For your viewing pleasures, photos of ten year old boys' backs:

Alright. They're not all of boys' backs. I love this sculpture.


Then there's this one:

Oop! That's boys' backs, isn't it? Sorry. My bad. Let's try this again, shall we? Here:

What? Yes, it's boys' backs, but they're catching tadpoles. Can't you tell?

Okay. Seriously. I'll catch y'all up tomorrow evening. I'm subbing in pre-k again tomorrow, for the same class as last Friday. I just know the little ones can't wait to see my bruise (Beth, I'm sparing you the photo this time), so I'm wearing capris just for them. And leaving my new cell phone in the pocket of my purse. And looking where I'm going at all times.

Speaking of looking where I'm going, do you know how difficult it is to climb up and down steep rocks while carrying a camera, camera case and a large bag full of everyone's stuff? Did I tell you it was a long day? If you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed.

Until I write again ...

Flea

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night

Boy howdy did WE ever have our share of excitement last night! See this?

This is a weather radio. Specifically, this is OUR weather radio. Yes, it's a fuzzy weather radio. And it doesn't do a darn bit of good if it's not plugged in.

We had several lines of severe weather come our way yesterday, with the worst sweeping through last night right after 7PM. In fact, my mom called about 6:40 to let me know it was coming, since she knows I don't watch TV. Thank you, Mom! I was keeping an eye on the internet radar, but it's not the same as TV, since I had no idea how bad it was.

Just after seven, and just after the Hunny got home, it all hit. I have to tell y'all, the Hunny is the cutest thing when it comes to emergencies. He ran upstairs to the TV to see the radar, Oatmeal Head turned on the computer to track the radar, I said, to no one in particular, "Where's our weather radio?" It magically appeared. And then the tornado sirens went off.

Well that was when the Hunny kicked into emergency mode. Meaning he paced and panicked in the most adorable way. The kids and I cleared out the closet under the stairs - here it is all put back together (no, people, I'm not posting from a Starbucks somewhere, even thought that WOULD be pretty cool):


We cleared it all out and Little Guy hung out there with the dogs for awhile, talking to one of his friends on my cell phone (yes! it came! I'll show you in a minute), while the Hunny stood at the door listening to the sirens and shushing the rest of us. The sirens would stop and the Hunny would make to go upstairs. I'd call his butt right back down.

All of this was a truncated version of Hurricane Charlie, when we lived in Florida. It was the Hunny's first hurricane and he was about to burst. He'd get all nervous and worked up, then in the worst of it he was dragging the kids outside to watch the transformers blow around town while I'm yelling at him to get them back in. I gave up after awhile. I've since learned to give up much sooner.

The sirens wailed off and on for a good half hour, making us a little nervous at first. Then we were bored. The poor dogs were wild eyed the entire time. I sent Maybelline for the camera so I could photograph the insane wind and rain (and the terrified dogs in the closet), but the Hunny wouldn't let me and take pictures. For Pete's sake, I didn't hear any freight trains! We survived. There was a moment when I think the Hunny and I were both wishing the wind would rip off all the siding so the insurance company would take care of it. Alas. It was not to be. And the kids have long ago learned to be calm in an emergency situation. The most excitement that happens with them is Little Guy worrying about his cat. Otherwise it's all good.

Okay, so this new phone of mine? SLEEK MOTO F-3? LOVE IT!!! Check it out:


I know - it's kinda fuzzy too. But isn't it pretty? The Hunny, who loves his games and features, took one look and had phone lust. I suspect he'd be bored with it inside of two minutes, but it is pretty and sleek - almost nothing to it. And I found an online manual for it in English (the one I received was in Spanish - no habla Espanol).

The screen is way cool! I can read it no matter the angle or lighting. I can text if I want to, but since that costs money, it ain't happenin'. The ring tones are SO MUCH FUN!!! I squishy heart the ring tones - all seven of them. And the menu is very small. BUT! I can set alarms on it if I need to. Yay! So it has everything I need, nothing more, nothing less. And it was 30 bucks plus shipping. How awesome is that? Awesome!

I'll be on a field trip with fourth graders today, visiting Woolaroc. Loving it! It's where the buffalo roam. And I'll probably wave in Mayberry's general direction in passing. Hello Magpie! And wave in the Pioneer Woman's general direction in passing. Hello Ree! And I'll take scads of pictures just to torture you all with! You knew I'd do that, though. The camera's already in the car.

Until I write again ...

Flea

The Water Story

Thank you for your patience! It wasn't till I posted the last that I realized that this isn't a terribly amusing story. And I like amusing. Dang it. But I'll tell it anyway.

Most of you know about our siding issues. We've been getting quotes, going back and forth on types of siding, blah, blah, blah. So we're pretty focused on that, not to mention a little stressed about the financial end of it. Woohoo. Meaning we missed a more immediate repair which was right under our nose. The upstairs shower faucet.

Months ago the kidlets began complaining about their shower, that it dripped, that the handle broke (the Hunny replaced the handle), that it was annoying. Yeah, whatever. I wasn't using it. Handle replaced. They stopped complaining. Then last week we heard yelling during a shower. It seemed the water suddenly went hot and stayed there. The next child to attempt using it found that the water would only turn as far as hot, never reaching the cooler stage. And the whole dripping thing? When we asked why we hadn't heard it, Maybelline tells us how smart they are. They just tucked the shower curtain under the drip after showering "so it wouldn't annoy you guys." Okay, who taught my daughter to say you guys instead of y'all? Something is seriously WRONG with that.

All three kidlets used our shower for the rest of the week. Yuck. Children shedding in my shower, using my towels when asked not to, using my shower gel and scrubbee when asked to bring their own down, not squeegeeing the water which pools in the corners. I do not like them, Sam-I-Am. We had enough.

I called a plumber, he quoted me a VERY reasonable price of $225-250 to do the job if we bought our own faucet, even knowing he'd be opening up Oatmeal Head's wall to replace the faucet completely, and that the pipes are copper. I was pretty darn psyched. Then the Hunny asked where the money would come from. Stupid Hunny. Squash my excitement and ruin my hopes of ever having my shower and stuff to myself. I had no idea. We have a paintball party to throw this weekend, a climbing party next weekend, not to mention gifts.

So the Hunny asked - nay, pleaded - to be allowed to fix it himself. I had rules. He MUST look everything up on line, including how-to videos. He MUST price everything out completely before I'd say yes, and the cost had to be half of the plumber's price. He MUST promise to have it done in one evening. He promised all of those. And he came through on the the first two.

First, I must tell y'all about my own weekend to this point. I took my last Adderall XR on Friday morning, dropped off my prescription, then didn't get my lazy butt to the pharmacy to pick it up. Saturday without it was fine - I had a large coffee a couple of times that day, climbed, did yard work, enjoyed life. Sunday? Not so much. I wanted to sleep all day, forgot Little Guy had a birthday party to attend (he was very late, and I ran out to get the gift after dropping him off), was horribly grouchy and angry with everyone. The Hunny and I had a final class to attend last night and he wanted to play plumber and let me go alone. I hate going alone. I spent too many years going to things alone when the Hunny was grouchy and horrid, and I refuse to do so now that he's a better man. But his arguments were strong, and the money angle was a good hook, so I said yes and left at 5:45. Without my phone (hello? It's dead).

I came home to a very discouraged Hunny, children who were a little put out that the water was off and they were going to die of thirst, but secretly pleased that they didn't have to shower. It seems that the Hunny had found a wonderful system for cutting and fixing the pipes, but only one major hardware store carries it. The store which closed at seven. About 15 minutes before he realized that he needed ONE MORE PIECE to complete the job. The same store which didn't open until seven this morning, even though their phone system said they'd open at six. The Hunny was not happy, I was really ticked. *sigh*

Guess what? When the water's off, the toilets don't flush. Oatmeal Head (he's not named that for nothing) had to go after the water was shut off, so he flushed both toilets to make sure they'd work. So what does the Good Flea get to do upon her arrival home? I called a neighbor and good friend and asked if we could sneak into her yard in the dead of night and use her hose to fill buckets so we could go potty! Oh yes, that was an enjoyable conversation. About as much fun as actually going for the water.

So I was not a happy camper when I arrived home. I was sweet to the children (I think), and not horribly mean to the Hunny. I even sat in the doorway while he made sure the faucet was going to fit, talking to him. But I was certainly snarly once the kidlets were in bed.

So today? The Hunny came home at 6:15 sporting a QT coffee (didn't bring me one and I still hadn't had my Adderall, so GRR), frustrated with the store not being open. But he went back at seven and had the whole thing fixed, water on, by nine. Hoorah! We have water. And a working shower, complete with new faucet, knob and shower head. See?



Grouchy as I was, I must say that I am very proud of my Hunny. He da man. He was a graphic designer for years, working as a professor and department chair for a long time now. Not really into home repair and improvement. But the man learns well. And he did a great job. And I got a shower. The End.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Land Run 2008

I took 250 pictures of the Land Run today. it's so hard to pick the ones to post here! The kids are adorable, but I can't post overly recognizable photos of other people's kids. Regardless, there will be tons of pictures today, and this post will be long.

And the outfits! You'll see. But first, here's Mrs. Clark. Y'all remember Mrs. Clark, of the bovines go to school fame? Isn't she cute, riding her bull to the Land Run?


Oh, by the way? Scads of children were asking about Fred and Bessie today, either why weren't they with me, taking part in the Land Run, or whether they'd been found. I had to explain it many times - their disappearance, showing up in New York, prancing amongst Dlyn's vincas - but their favorite part was the Smarties.

Once the rain passed - didn't I mention the rain? All the way to school I was fretting that there would be no Land Run, what with the gusty wind and black, heavy clouds. It blew over quickly, and the kids lined up on the playground. Aren't they darling?





The principal walked around with his bullhorn all day - I might go buy a bullhorn. I want one. Don't you? He made sure everyone was lined up properly, made sure the parents stayed in the viewing area - evidently parents are prone to helping their children run, pull the wagon, set up their homestead, you name it. I was too busy snapping pictures to even think of helping Little Guy.

Isn't the principal cute in his jeans and hat? Gotta love a man with a bullhorn. I want a bullhorn! Did I mention that? I wonder where I'd get one. Bullhorn City? Bullhorns R Us? I want one.

Next, a shot was heard. I thought there was some kind of law about weapons in school, but this IS Oklahoma. At the shot, the heads of families (each class was split into named families of five and six) took off to claim their parcel of land. Look at them run!

They're moving pretty fast, trying to find a spot. I asked a group of fourth graders today how large the original tracts of free land were. I think they told me 160 acres. Marguerite, I know you wanted free land, but I would NOT want to have to mow 160 acres. I also found out there were three separate land runs, the first one in 1889. At least, that's what the ten year olds said. I believe them. I wasn't alive then, despite what some of you younger moms might think.


Here they are, still running. Run, Okies, run! Don't stop till you find water and trees! There must have been rules, because these kids knew when to stop running. That or kids these days just don't have the stamina they once did. I think it's the latter.

Once the runners stopped, they pushed their stakes into the ground, declaring the little square for their family. The family had to wait in line, oh so patiently, for the gunshot to happen again - now I want a starter pistol to go with my bullhorn. Any idea where I'd find one? Cheap? I'm frugal.


Oh! Here the families are pulling their covered wagons, headed for their squares! The wagons were of the Radio Flier variety, with pool noodles acting as hoops. I asked Little Guy's teacher why they didn't use hula hoops and was told that the hoops fall forward, collapsing the wagon cover (an old sheet from my linen closet).





Let me just say, when the families took off for their new homesteads, it sounded like a cattle stampede. I nearly dropped the camera! It was GREAT! Hundreds of ten year olds running.





Shortly after, they settled in and began the hard work of setting up a homestead. Here's a shot of a group I know, trying to get their bearings. I just love watching kids trying to figure things out. These kids spent the last few weeks learning about the land run, planning their families and supplies (much of which were falling off of the wagons while they ran, btw), plotting out their square.






Okay, gratuitous butt shot of Mrs. Clark. This just cracks me up, what with the hooves coming out of her rear end and all. I hope she forgives me for posting this. I was amused.
















Little Guy and his family! It took me awhile to find them. I was so busy snapping photos that I forgot to watch his family run. But here they are, discussing how everything will work. Aren't they cute? Yes, I'm biased. Yes, Little Guy's wearing his Pimp My Kid glasses. Thanks for rubbing it in. Not very 1889 if you ask me.










See? Aren't they though? But he loves these frames, and when you're ten, that's what counts. His friends even like them. They like them so much that they swipe them on the playground and run around wearing them. Until another friend knocks that one down, knocking off the glasses and popping out a lens, bent frame and all. True story.















Look at these two work together! The men in the family. Actually, there was another boy, but Little Guy seemed to work well with this kid.



Okay, I have to stop now. There are so many great shots I'd love to show you but can't. Kids whose faces spoke volumes, family sets, homesteads in progress. It's just too much. But the day was great, the kids had a good time and learned a lot, I learned quite a bit about my adopted state, and the rain stayed away. Thanks for sharing it with me, those of you who read this far.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Oklahoma History?

How do cows find their way home?

They follow the Milky Way!

Dlyn! Dlyn! A Milky Way will do the trick! It's creamy chocolate and Bessie will go for that!

Little Guy told me this joke this morning while waiting to leave for the bus. He has a Land Run today. Evidently Oklahoma fourth graders study their state history and culminate with a recreation of the 1907 land run. It's a great idea. I saw their covered wagons yesterday - little Radio Fliers covered with bed sheets in the most interesting prints. Little Guy's task today was to bring games for his "family" to play, so he raided the card box for a deck, also snagging the dominoes.

Doesn't he look ready to stake a claim?


Okay, see that little bit of wall behind him, between the bookshelves? That's the color of my living room walls, the color I look through to to see the dining room. The color I look to from the dining room. It's a reddish brown and I love it. Hard to match a purple. I may just have to go with a deep purple.

Heading out shortly to watch the Land Run. Be warned: I'm taking the camera. I WILL bore you stiff with photos later. Heh.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Bits and Pieces

How on earth did Thursday arrive SO SOON?! I turn around on Monday and it's Thursday already. Who's been tampering with my calendar?

So yes, it's my busy day. I'm headed out to lunch at school with Little Guy, then into Mrs. Clark's classroom. Then who knows?

I have to let y'all know, it really probably will be June or July before that wall is purple. I appreciate your helpful advice, and I'm rethinking the hue of purple based on some of you comments. Especially I'd like to visit the Behr site Marguerite linked to in the comments. But school is ending and I have three children, two nieces and one Hunny all having birthdays in the next month and a half, as well as life in general, and my being "done" with the wall for the moment. Running out of spackle ruined the momentum. Sorry. Done for now. It will drive me crazy again in about two months, I know.

Time to scoot! Y'all have a great day!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Weekend Plans

I've got my spackle. I've got my putty knife. What more do I need?

The Hunny, Oatmeal Head and Little Guy are going to Cub World this weekend for a big camp out. They're all so excited! There's fishing gear in the corner of my living room, a rolled up tent sitting next to it, plans and directions scattered around the house, all the proper forms have been turned in to the proper people. The boys are leaving!

Here I'll be, alone with Maybelline for a couple of days. What do I have planned? Climbing tomorrow morning, of course, which Maybelline is beginning to enjoy. Laundry, which she is not. Trying out my new dryer lint brush with the ten foot extension rod. Woohoo!

On a side not: Little Guy is getting ready for school, putting on his socks, complaining about his cowlick and asking for hair gel, telling me the purple sparkly stuff is okay. Then, "Here's what I wanna do. I want to grow my hair out long and dye it black. It looks cool." I just smile and nod.

Sorry. The big thing I'm doing this weekend involves the spackle and putty knife. See that wall? My dining room wall? That horrendous thing? I'm going to texture it, come hell or high water.

And right now I need to run. Subbing in a pre-k class today. My favorite!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Mail Box Fun

Oh lookit lookit lookit! A box came for me today! A box full of candy, a book and a CD! I popped the CD in while digging through the packing peanuts for loot. Mellow. Jazzy. Bluesy. Love it. It ripped to my laptop and went to Maybelline, who instantly fell in love with Katie Melua. I love blues. Nothing like Kim Hill, but very good. Yes, I'm old.

I won all of this fun loot from I'm Being Held Hostage over at In the Gutter. Thank you!!!

And the candy! Bwahahaha!!! Little Guy's looking at all of it asking, "Didn't this come from another country?"

Me:"Yes. England."

Him: "Then why is it all in English instead of a foreign language?"

Oh I know who their teacher was the last nine years and I'm going to have a word with HER!

We tried the candy. Yes, we sat and sampled all of it. Maybelline, Oatmeal Head, Little Guy and myself. Some of it is wonderful! Some weird. I didn't care much for the chocolate covered Turkish Delight, but then I've never been a fan. The Flying Saucers rock! They look and feel like communion wafers - those papery things some churches have - but there's a powdery innard, like a Pixie Stix. Mmmm! Maybelline offered to wear one for your viewing pleasure.

Oatmeal Head declared it a giant zit. Shiny.

The rest of the candy was fun. We chewed quite awhile on the caramel, which they call toffee. Heath Bars are my idea of toffee. But I love caramel, so I stashed the rest for later. And the gum! It's by Tesco, a Black Currant gum. An acquired taste. I think one of the children liked it, and I'm hoping the Hunny does. Interesting. :)

Oatmeal Head has already asked for the wrappers to take to school once the candy's gone.

The card is beautiful, a Martin Sexton watercolor of Norwich Cathedral. And the envelope almost made me cry. Look:

Can you see? It says Fred & Bessie's Mum. But I have no Fred & Bessie. I do hope you're keeping your eyes peeled for them. Though that imagery is a little gross. Sorry.


Again, I'm Being Held Hostage, thank you! You turned a rainy Thursday into the bright spot in our week!

Until I write again ...

Flea

I Need Your Advice

I need your help with my Little Guy. I'm hoping that at least one of you has been through something similar with one of your children and can give me good advice please. Let me lay it all out for you?

When I was about five or six, my little brother and I had our tonsils out. Mom says we were sick all the time prior to that. I know that growing up after that we were almost never sick. I'd wait for my annual cold to have it done with. Even as an adult, my colds are really mild and infrequent.

My Hunny, as some of you know, was recently diagnosed with sleep apnea. He stops breathing all night long, causing oxygen deprivation, sending his blood pressure through the roof, making him exhausted all the time. You get the picture. And it's been this way the 16 years we've shared a bed.

Little Guy is my one child who always has a cold. Always a runny nose, anyway. He's taken all kinds of stuff for it. Last year the doc prescribed DAllergy, which he took pretty steadily for awhile and it seemed to make no difference. I've given him NyQuil at night so he could at least sleep and function the next day (when it's definitely been a cold), DayQuil in the morning so his school work won't suffer. And recently we've been wandering upstairs at night to listen to him sleep. Sure enough, when he has a cold he stops breathing frequently in his sleep.

Here I owe a big thank you to Sports Mama. She tipped me off to the possibility of sleep apnea in children, even the possibility that it causes ADHD-like symptoms. I was under the impression that apnea was an adult thing. Thank you SM!!!

Our last visit to the doc, I gave her this whole run-down and she referred us to an ENT, after proclaiming that Little Guy had a sinus infection, his tonsils and lymph nodes were huge, and prescribed antibiotics. I hate antibiotics and avoid them unless absolutely necessary. Another post, another time. He took them, he stopped blowing green, but is still congested. So we went to the ENT this week, who looked and said that the nose looked pretty clear, but the tonsils were pretty darn big. Let's get them and the adenoids out. And let's use this prescription nasal spray for the next few weeks (something we hadn't tried) just to eliminate the allergy question.

Next day we saw our doc again. She says, "Take Zyrtec too, as long as you're working the allergy angle." So two nights in a row Little Guy has taken Zyrtec. It's supposed to work immediately and well (my husband uses it). I walked up this morning to make sure kids were awake and heard Little Guy snoring. He's snored since he was little. It was disheartening.

The surgery (30 minute out-patient surgery now) is scheduled for July. Tonsils and adenoids. I don't have any problem with having this taken care of, given the whole family history and Little Guy's on-going issues. But I wanted to see if any of you have dealt with anything similar and might see something which I'm missing? I don't want to do the wrong thing by my kid if I can at all help it. I thank you greatly in advance.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Thursdays

I feel the need to 'splain. Starting with Thursdays. Wait! No, starting with the last week.

Last week was our spring break. I was lazy. We took a road trip. I posted simple photos and didn't visit anyone online while I was away. It was awesome, being nearly unplugged. Then we got home. I've been slowly catching up, but my posts have still been pretty darn lame. There. That's the "last week" explanation.

Thursdays. I want to be witty and deep on Thursdays, really I do. And in my real life, I almost am. A friend and I walk our dogs at eight am, losing track of time and talking up a blue streak. That's the beauty of a good friend - when you're with them, even exercise seems effortless.

After our walk, we drag our dogs home in separate directions, but my friend and I meet up in a different location for a woman's Bible study. We're studying worship, focusing on stuff I struggle with, like responding emotionally to God. Okay, responding emotionally, period. The book we're using, Satisfy My Thirsty Soul, by Linda Dillow, is alright, actually getting better as we go, but I'm supplementing with C.S. Lewis' Reflections on the Psalms and The PAPA Prayer, by Larry Crabb, both excellent books. I'm learning a lot, but the point is to learn to feel as well, I think. Getting there. Definitely different from the grad class, but equally valuable for me right now. My best friend in the world, Jeni, would probably say that she sees all the little Fleas jumping out of me, feeling. She's more emotional than I am, but that doesn't take much.

About lunch time I zoom from that class to the fourth grade, where I try and meet my Little Guy for lunch (he LOVES that), then pop over to another fourth grade class where I spend the afternoon volunteering. This is the highlight of my week. I've gotten to know the kids a little, the teacher better, and best of all, I've fallen in love with school all over again.

Yes. I was an elementary education major in college, about a million years ago. I chose that major because I liked hanging out with little kids. Literally. I was emotionally stunted, I guess, because I spent recesses in high school hanging on the monkey bars with first and second graders. I also taught my baby brother to read at age three and thought that I was brilliant. Turns out he's the brilliant one, pursuing a PhD in microbiology.

In college I quickly discovered that I didn't like my major. Very Mickey Mouse was how I always described it. But by the time I got around to changing it I was starting my junior year. So I hung in there and got my degree. Alright, I failed aerobics twice and had to take a swimming class, after I moved to Maryland, in order to get my diploma. But I graduated, okay? And wanted nothing to do with schools. Walking into a school building, at that point, was nauseating. For years afterward I couldn't go into a school building. When Oatmeal Head was in third grade I had him tested for learning disabilities at the local elementary school. Just walking through those doors every time we went was really tough. I hated it. I think it's a large part of why I homeschooled for so long, that school-phobia.

So here I am in Tulsa, my children in public school, having a great experience, and I'm loving their schools. Every time I walk through the doors of either school, I feel all warm and fuzzy. It's a lovely thing. Even substitute teaching, so much like the days of student teaching, is fun. My love for learning, children, classrooms, is all being restored. And it ROCKS.

That's my Thursday. My Little Guy loves it because I take him home in the afternoon and he doesn't have to ride the bus. So we wind up running errands. So what? And by the time I get home, I do what I did yesterday, which to make an easy dinner and crash. Nothing else.

Fridays? Well, my Hunny is home today, so I'm going to get off the computer now and head upstairs, drag him off of his computer, and we'll go play in the garden. Did I tell y'all that it was 90 degrees here yesterday? Today's high is supposed to be 56. Still warm enough to garden.

Until I write again ...

Flea

C'mon In. The Water's Fine!

My youngest child, Little Guy, has proven himself an able fisherman. He has spent the last three days on my aunt and uncle's dock with a cane pole and a bucket of Catawba night crawlers, catching bass and blue gill. Today he caught 18 fish!

I decided to try my hand at fishing, with the pole that the Hunny picked up at WalMart. To replace the cane pole which Little Guy snapped on his first catch - a big bass. Don't I look like I know what I'm doing? Not. Not a fan of the fishing. At all.





When I was in college, my Lil' Bro, who LOVED to fish, took me out with him one afternoon. He carried the poles and a paper bag full of cut up steak for bait. We lived at the mouth of the Mississippi River, where he usually caught red fish or bass - at least, that's what he brought home for dinner. Mmmm. He'd scale and gut them on the brick front porch, then hose everything down. One of the reasons I never fished was the "You catch it, you clean it" rule. Fortunately it didn't apply to eating it.

So we walked over the levee and Lil' Bro casts and casts. He comes up with a big blue crab and pops it into the steak bag, so I ask what he plans to do with that cute little crab. He says, "Kill it."

What am I supposed to do with that? Of course I tell him he's going to do no such thing! He laughed at me and cast again. Indignant, I reached into the bag and grabbed the crab.

Now y'all, growing up on the Mississippi, every time I'd come down the back side of the levee toward the river, hundreds of little fiddler crabs would go skittling in every direction, running for cover. We'd sit and wait for them to come back out, catching them by the rear, where they couldn't reach us with that one big ol' claw. They were so cute, and my friends and I would hold them by the rear and make them fight. Then let them go. So when I grabbed that blue crab, I knew enough to grab it by the rear, where it couldn't reach me with it's big claws. Yeah right. That sucker reached around and grabbed hold of my finger.

I flung that crab out across the rocks so fast! It went flying, bouncing on the rocks at the base of the levee. Me, screaming at the top of my lungs to my brother: "KILL IT! KILL IT!" Him: laughing. I think that was the last time I went fishing.



Until today. I still don't like it. But my Little Guy? His great-grandmother has convinced him that he needs to come visit often and keep fishing. I think he might just do that. Me? I'm coming back for the crawfish. :)

Until I write again (from home!) ...

Flea

Travel Pictures!

Thanks, Zobabe, for the check it out! If my sister weren't enjoying her 10th anniversary away somewhere north of me, I'm betting she'd be all over it. :) I know I will be when I get home.

For your viewing ... I hate to say pleasure here ... for your viewing, some pics of our travel time. Probably just like yours, but with different people. Am I right?



Here's Maybelline, fresh and ready to face her traveling day. Plugged in, ready to watch Jeff Dunham. Look him up. You'll laugh for days. Ventriloquist.



Oatmeal Head hates having his picture taken. Oh well. He's plugged in, but wound up sharing earbuds with his sister, enjoying Dunham. I love hearing the two of them belly laugh from the back seat.


Little Guy isn't fond of pictures either. Tough. For me. Here he after a brief potty break. Doesn't he LOOK relieved? I know - I can't tell either.


As long as I'm torturing you, here's the Hunny, driving. He didn't fall asleep once! We squishy heart the cpap machine! No sleep apnea problems here! Drive, Hunny, drive!


And Grandma, or k, as y'all know her in the comment section. She is a very stubborn woman and refused to sit in the front seat after the first leg of the trip. If she'll comply on the way home, I'll take a better picture.


Last, and certainly not least, are my sweet bovines. They seem to truly enjoy traveling. I know, I know. They're not wearing their seat belts. I'm a bad mommy. They were only out for a bit. Most of the time they were strapped in and sleeping sweetly. Cute little things.

Thanks for scrolling through all the boring pictures. Stop in next week for the final slide show! Kidding.

Until I write again ...

Flea

Soon! I Promise!

I will be posting the winner and book selection later tonight. We've been invited to someone's home for snacks and games (leaving in a few minutes), and I want to find and listen to each of your songs again, so I'll be up late! If you see me on your gmail chat, IM me! :)

Until then, since this is a musical theme, I wanted to show y'all our new purchase. Oatmeal Head has been asking for lessons for awhile, as has my hopelessly rhythm-less Little Guy. We've been scanning the papers and Craigslist and finally found a set on the latter really cheap. Scandalously cheap. So cheap we didn't have a choice, cheap. The previous owner is in med school and needed the space for some real furniture in her little condo. And we have space in our bonus room! Works for me. Here it is, in all its glory:


Yes. Those are bongos on the window seat. Oatmeal Head and Little Guy have been smacking those for awhile, trying to prove to us that they have rhythm and are drum-worthy. Goobers. Jury's still out on Little Guy.


Oatmeal Head thinks his drum stick is a guitar. Something is seriously wrong here. What am I missing?


Ah! He's figured it out. I knew that boy had potential.


Good mommy that I am, I posted ALL these lovely pictures for your viewing pleasure! And look Aunt Marguerite! I don't think you could get a noisier gift for my children than the one I just bought them! Were I you, I'd go for messier maybe?

I really will post the results tonight. And I'll be catching up on everyone's blogs in the morning!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Riddle Me This

My baby! My baby! I feel like Mrs. Jumbo, in Dumbo. But really, my baby!

My Little Guy is really sick this time. He's a hypochondriac to end all hypochondriacs. This is the kid who wanted to stay home because his temperature was dangerously close to 99. A couple of years ago he was dragging himself around the house by his arms, and when a friend asked him why, his response was, "My legs are loose." The same boy whom the nurse called about LAST Thursday because he felt sick. Whom the nurse calls about at least once a month. But he is always looking around and making cheerful conversation with the other children. This boy who knows no strangers, gives away everything he has, and loves animals, is the same boy who is always about to die.

This same boy was telling me, just this morning, that his stomach hurt and he felt like he was going to throw up. The same thing he told me yesterday morning. He was making every excuse not to go to school, I thought, but had no fever, and his color was good. And he ate breakfast. Which he neatly deposited in the aisle of the school bus a few minutes later. Can we say Bad Parent?

So now he's home. He claimed, at first, to be feeling better. I highly suspect that my perpetually runny nosed child just had a case of post nasal drip which had to go somewhere - it's happened before. But he started feeling very poorly again when I asked him to clean his room. Poor baby.

I ask you: Does this boy look sick? Does he? I am just not sure. Does he look sick enough to be watching Star Wars IV: A New Hope for the millionth time? It's what he pops in any time he has the TV to himself. And remote control - does that say sick to you? I just can't tell. Help!

Until I write again ...

Flea

Can't Live With 'Em ...

Cows! Ya can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em! Just ask Ree. And these two are getting too big for their britches! Ever since our farm trip, they think they can do whatever they please! It's like kids with an allowance for the first time. Remember that? All of a sudden the world is their oyster, they're turning up their noses at your cooking because they want to pay - THEIR OWN MONEY - to order pizza (no, my children never turned up their noses at my cooking BEFORE. Why do you ask?) A little bit of power or money and suddenly the rest of their world looks small and shabby. Ingrates. Did I say that out loud?

Well, Fred and Bessie got swelled heads last week when they met a real live fan. The kiss was more than their little egos could take, and it's been Moo Moo Moo all week since. Now they think they're super stars. So much so that they've gotten into my china cabinet, which I assume means they think they're too good for the kitchen, what with it's every day dishes, chipped glasses and plastic cups. Look at 'em, for Pete's sake! They're using my potpourri as a bed! Those are the rose petals from my floribundas back in Virginia! Who let the bull in the china cabinet?!

I pulled them out of the china cabinet, but you know that wasn't the end of things. I'm beginning to think that maybe a road trip wasn't such a good idea for these two after all. After placing them carefully on the cutting board in the kitchen, next to the butter (they seem to really like being next to the butter), I headed to the back of the house to get some laundry done, then scrub the bathroom floor. I don't know about you, but when I start sticking to the bathroom floor, it's time to scrub. When I came around the corner into my living room, this is what I found.


Fred, what on earth? First the big cows on the farm, then the fine china, and now a face off with Obi-Wan Kenobi? What's next? Dinner with John Cusak? An