School Projects

I understand the idea behind school projects.  Done independently, by self starter students, with zero parent involvement.  They can be a wonderful educational opportunity.  With that said, I can't help but wonder, sometimes, if it's just a way for teachers to get the last laugh.

I've seen pictures on the interwebs.  You can't, in all honesty, tell me that Little Johnny did that perfectly executed experiment and flawless presentation on his own. I just don't believe you. Can it happen? Sure.  Is it likely? No.  How do I know? I have kids.  I know the quality of their work. I know that there are eleventy billion other things that they'd rather do.  I totally get that.  Why line stuff up evenly on a tri-fold when there are better things to do?  My kids don't care how much excess glue oozes out from under some grammatically incorrect printed out report slapped on the poster. 

What sucks is that *I* care.  I don't want to do it for them. But I do want it to look nice.  This is where the problem begins and why I am insanely tempted to turn in something like this brilliant child.

Can I get an amen?  I bow to this kid's awesomeness.  This is the truth.  The cold, hard truth. And if I were a judge in this fair - - this project would get my vote and freaking win.  

Tomorrow we are to turn in "our" idea for a science project.  Awesome.  As parents we have to sign off on our son's choice. Why? Because we have to help him.  In fact, he told me that he is required to do at least 80% of it on his own.  I can do that level math.  And I know what that means.  When he told me that, I wanted to hunt down my degree from college, make a copy of it and staple it to his shirt.  I've done plenty of this crap already.  But - - it's part of the parent job.  I get it.

Nobody tells you when you have kids that this kind of nonsense is in your future.  It should be in the non-existent baby manual they give you when your child is born.  What to expect?  Pshhhhh.  Expect that homework is going to suck.  And the fact that it's going to freaking start in kindergarten.  That's a fact, Jack.

So for the next month, we will be growing mold around here.  And we will be testing the effects of various levels of bleach on said mold.  Not too bad.  Right?  Not until we start compiling data and putting it on a display poster.  It should be a real hoot.  I can hardly contain my excitement.  Yay for science.  Yippee!

UPDATE:

We didn't go with mold.  Instead, we will be experimenting with the effects of various liquids on our teeth via calcium tablets.  Actually sounds interesting.

Crickets Chirping

Ummmmmm.  I'm sorry?  I keep thinking, every time, that I'll actually commit to writing here again.  So much to say.  I'm not afraid to say it.  I just don't.  Silly me.  I'll give it another whirl. I'll catch you up in another post.  To do so in this post seems lame and disingenuous.  (Oh my gosh.  I spelled that right the first time without spell check.  Oh yeah!)

Here's to - - tomorrow...

We moved!

We did it.  We moved.  We closed on our new house almost three weeks ago.  We moved in a week ago today.

Oh.  My.  Goodness..

Moving sucks.  Big time.  Don't get me wrong.  I LOVE our new home.  Love it.  I'd love it even more if the remodel stuff was done.  We ran into a few extra "snags" just before our move in.  (I know of a tile company in this town who should be sued.  Big time.  Who doesn't put a vapor barrier in a tiled shower?  For real.) The short version is this:  we have one operation toilet and one operational shower.  The half bath toilet and sink are where my fridge goes in my kitchen.  Our old fridge is in our laundry room.  It belongs there.  But we had to bust a door frame out to get it in there.  I'm not even kidding.

So - - we have concrete floors, waiting for tile, in both bathrooms, our kitchen and in what will be Mr. B's office.  All of the floor tile is busted up.  But cleaning up from busted up tile is nearly impossible.  It tracks everywhere.  Our living room has beautiful wood flooring that has both human and cat tracks on it.  So pretty.

We'll get there.  Mr. B is a home reno machine.

The youngest is at pre-teen camp this week and the oldest is at Mamaw camp.  Why am I not in bed snuggling with Mr. B?  He's snoring already.  That's why.

I had to check in.  I didn't want y'all to think I'd bailed already.  I'm here.  I'll be back.  Consider yourself warned.

Smooches.

Moving

So - - a lot has been going on around my neck of the woods.

The family moved away.  Some to Arizona, some to Brownwood.  They're gone.  It's just me, the mister and my boys now.  I'm oddly okay with that.  I wasn't at first.  It really threw me off of my groove.  Then I realized I had no choice.  I could embrace the change or fight it.  The end result is the same.  In the interest of my sanity, I opted to embrace.

The four of us are embarking on a new journey together.  I think it's going to be great for my little family.

In other news - - we are moving.  Just a mile away.  But it's a new house for us.  We've spent our entire marriage in our current house.  And I'm going to miss it.  For the most part.

We sold our current home super fast.  We close on our new home Thursday morning.  Then we close on our current home August 1st.  Things are crazy.  Mr. B is going to be doing some tile work in the kitchen, laundry room and his new office.  We'll also paint probably every room in the house and install new ceiling fans.

The new venture is exciting.

And scary.

I know I'll be tired and stabby over the next couple of weeks.  Bear with me.  I'll try not to bore you with the details.

I'm off to pack more boxes.

Good times.

Oh. My. Goodness.

Do y'all hate me?  Is anyone still out there?

The short version is this:  I suck.  I have totally sucked at blogging.  Is blogging "Sooooo early 2000's?"  I'd like to think that they still live.  And even if I have to talk to myself for a while until I build traffic back up, that's what I'll do.  I'll talk to myself.

I've said it before and I'll say it again.  Facebook, Pinterest, Snapchat, Instagram, blah, blah, blah.  Immediate gratification.  And it is doing its best to kill blogs.  So - - I'm going to find a way to co-exist.

Sometimes - - I've got more to say than just a silly status update.  Or even a serious one.  I hate epic long FB status updates anyway.

Here's my first attempt.

Anyone still out there?  Comment and let me know.  I'd love to hear from my legions of fans.  If they'll still have me.

Remember Me?

I think I won an award.  I gave it to myself.  But I'm still counting it.  It's the "Most Sucktastic Blogger of the Year/All Time" award.

Yeah.  I suck.  I'd apologize.  But I wouldn't mean it.  Instead I'll give this another whirl.

I'm gonna give you the "bullets" that summarize some of what has gone on in my life since my last post.

• I got a job!  I wasn't even looking for one.  It found me.  Wait.  Let me re-phrase.  God pointed me at this job and opened all the doors.  Then He basically flung me through those doors.  I am now the Youth Ministry Assistant at my church.  Wow.  Right?  Who said the Lord doesn't have a sense of humor?  I am absolutely loving doing what I do.  Seriously.  I'm part-time.  So I'm still able to pick the kids up from school.  It's been awesome.  So far the only one displeased with my new job is Gus.  I think he feels neglected.  Poor kitty.
• My mom has been really sick.  The past three weeks have been tough.  The past week even more so.  Things are looking up (considering where she was a week ago tomorrow) but not perfect.  None of us are ever guaranteed our next breath.  I'm learning (very much the hard way) to treasure each moment.  I've never been a big crier.  But the past two weeks, I've cried pretty much every day.  Not just gentle, pretty, movie tears.  I'm talking about ugly crying.  Ugh.  
• Our kids started private school in August.  Yep - - we said buh-bye to public school.  They are now attending a Christian school.  And let me tell you this:  it has been the best thing we've ever done for our kids.  (Other than adopting them!)  Wow.  Their class sizes are capped at twelve.  They receive more one-on-one attention.  And their grades have sky-rocketed!  Yay!  Ironing uniforms sucks.  (By the way, that's "Christian Cussing."  We aren't supposed to do that.  I can't even say "crap" around my kids anymore.  Hey - - if they are getting good grades and can pray in school, I'm not complaining.  I just hope the other moms don't find my blog.  Or I'll be on the prayer list next.)
• Mr. B got me hooked on a show he watches.  He talked me into starting season one on Netflix.  Yep, I'm watching Breaking Bad.  And I freakin' (another word I can't say out loud) love it.  It's my guilty pleasure.  Actually, he and I are about to catch another episode.  Yay us!  I know that in reality, meth is way not cool.  But something about this show just rocks my face off.  I love it.
• Speaking of awesome shows - - I'm a wicked Walking Dead fan, too.  Oh my gosh.  I do love me some Daryl.  I am on pins and needles waiting for October.

I'm sure there's more.  But what would I blog about next if I gave it all away now?

Time for some Breaking Bad with my main squeeze.

I'll check back in again soon.  I've missed you guys.  Anyone still out there?

Man Card

Do you ever see a man and wonder how in the world he was ever issued his man card in the first place?  I love my manly man.  He can easily handle home projects, yard stuff, car stuff, computer stuff (well, duh) and he looks great without his shirt on.  If I have a problem, I can totally embrace the "damsel in distress" vibe and he's my guy.  Not all guys can pull this off.  His card is laminated.  I've never, once, felt like yanking it from him.  He's got the stones to pull off most anything.

So you won't hear me complaining about toilet seats being left up.  I'm good.  It goes with the territory.

Mr. B - - he's my man.  

Summer Lazies

Day three into our real summer vacation (last week didn't count because of VBS) and I'm already feeling like a tyrant.

Time to set some ground rules and enforce them.

I've been lax on the "no eating in your room" rule.  That stops.  Right now.  Their room floors are tile.  And one of the minion's room had crumbs everywhere.  Pop Tart, cereal, popcorn, chex mix.  It was nasty.  I told him that he blew his last chance.  No more.  No food in the room.  Period.

Another thing - - thou shalt not hide out in one's room all day and play on the computer, play video games or watch TV.  Bored?  I will find you something for them to do.  But dang it, you need to be a freakin' kid. I get that it's hot outside.  It was hot outside when I was a kid, too.  I survived.  I didn't whine when told I was going to the pool.  I BEGGED to go to the pool.  I would have gone every stinkin' day.  And don't even get me started on Sea World.  We announced last night that we have an upcoming trip there.  I had one complainer and one happy kid.  Tough. Stuff.  We're going.  And you can sit and pout all day. (I'm certain you won't.  You love it.)

On that note, this vacay is unplugged.  That's right.  No electronic devices for kids.  I will permit movies in the van.  But that's it.  We're going to the library on Friday and checking out books.  Read up my little darlings.  Get lost in fiction.  It's good for you.  Lest you think I'm a Bossy McBosserson, I'll be reading, too.  I have plenty of books on my Kindle.  I'll probably leave my iPad at home anyway and take my old school Kindle.  No games on that.  Just me and books.

I am not letting my kids became total lame-o lazies.

Now - - we're headed to go find a couple of swim shirts, get the van washed and then we're going swimming.

My name is B and I refuse to raise lazy children.

Boobs

So this is how it went down.  (Pun totally intended.)

I was putting away dishes for my youngest minion.  He had unloaded the dishwasher.  The things he doesn't know where they belong or he can't reach, he sets on the counter.  And I put them away.  So as I bent over (still in my gown - - again with the judging - - it's summer) he quickly put his hand up over his eyes and said, "Mom, I can totally see your floppy things."

Bam.

Just like that.  My boobs went from something I'm proud of to, in his eyes, floppy things.

Now, for the record, I don't want him to like my floppy things.  I prefer he look away.  And I need to be more careful so that he doesn't have to ever endure the trauma again.  I'm not ashamed of them.  But I do believe in healthy boundaries with my children.  (On that note, you fellas can stop coming into the bathroom anytime now.  Clever little lock pickers.)

I would like to set the record straight.  I'm sure that, in his young opinion, they are floppy.  I can see where he would call them that.  They aren't fake.  So they actually move.  And they aren't small.  They used to be much larger.  But thanks to fantastic insurance and a terrific plastic surgeon, my ginormous knockers became a reasonable size back in 1999.  And they stood up, instead of hanging.  (I'm sorry if my brothers read this and find this disturbing.  You should have not even read this based solely on the title.)  It is fourteen years later and I'm sure a bit of a lift would be in order.  Maybe just weight loss.  But that's beside the point.

My boobs have been noticed.  And now I feel like I have to be a little more modest around the home.  Do I have to wear a bra now?  The sisters weren't meant to be caged for long periods of time.  And frankly, I curse the person who invented underwire.  I like sports bras.  But they just smash 'em.  I feel somewhat "mannish" when I wear the sports bras.

Thank God I don't have periods anymore or this might be a really crappy woman moment for me.  At least I will never have to deal with "shark week" again.  Ever.  I'll just keep the girls upright and call it good.

Did I really just type up a long post about boobs?  Why yes.  Yes I did.  And you love me for that.  Don't ya?

This is what I got done...

Read the post below.  I challenged myself.  Cleaning.

You probably don't care.  But, again, I'm doing this for me.  If you're inspired, well, then you're inspired.  Yay.

In the past 45 minutes:

I dusted the living room and my bedroom.

I filed paper work that seemed to declare squatter's rights on my desk.  (I had cleaned my desk drawer out earlier this morning.  My desk has achieved rock star status.)

I made up my bed.  (Don't judge me.  I just wasn't in the mood when I crawled out of it at 9:30 this morning.)

I re-positioned Gus back onto the freshly made bed.  He purred.  It made me happy.

I cleaned off the top of my dresser.

I picked up and put away four pairs of my shoes that were in various places in the house.  The one thing I gripe about the most, I am guilty of.  For shame.

I summoned the designated minion for his turn to unload the dishwasher.  (I'm about to go re-load it.)

I made the other minion a pitcher of his favorite kool-aid.  He doesn't even know yet.

I brushed my teeth because I had onions with my lunch.  My mouth felt funky.  A funky mouth is not a happy mouth.

I'm about to:

Run the dust mop over the wood flooring and vacuum both minions' rooms.

Start dinner.  Lime Butter Chicken.  It will be fabulous and you should be jealous.

Pet Gus.  Again.  He loves it when I pet him.  I'm his person.

Pour my first Diet Coke w/Splenda for the day.  3:10 and I haven't had one yet?  Yikes.  That's insane.

Check Amazon for the status of an order.  I already feel sorry for the UPS man.  I'm certain I'll scare him when I spring out from behind the door when the bell rings.  I really need this package to arrive by Friday.  *crosses fingers*

Okay.  I'm out.  Stuffs to do.

Later.

Hi

I've got nothing.  Seriously.  Nothing.  But I'm hoping to revive this place again and this is my very lame attempt at making at least one entry.  Anyone still out there?  Do I just talk to myself?  I'll try to think of something good again.

Ohhhhhh.  I've got an idea.  Cleaning.  I'll do a little cleaning challenge.  If anything, just for me.  You know, accountability and all of that.

I'll report back in 45 minutes.