Sunday...

I think I'm going to live.  I won't lie.  Friday sucked.  I laid in bed all day.  Just enough fever to kick my butt.  I slept off and on all day.  Then there was Saturday, much better.  And today was even better.  Whew.  I'm back on Afrin again.  Meh.  I'll kick it again when I'm in the mood.  Right now, I'm going with what works.

I submitted my next Mom's the Word column AND I applied to be on Jen Hatmaker's launch team for her new book coming out this summer.  Finger's crossed.  First of all, how fun?  Ummmm, lots.  Secondly, what an opportunity!  I'd love to be a part of something so amazing.  If I get picked, expect to hear A LOT about it.

Thing One's science project is done.  Ahead of schedule.  I don't think it's actually due until Tuesday.  Yay, Brays.  Take that, procrastination.  

We've successfully adjusted all of our clocks and are welcoming the extra hour of dark in the morning and light in the evenings.  As it should be.  I'm not a time change whiner.  It's an hour, y'all.  Chill.  Take a nap and adjust.  It's all good.  And by the way, it's Daylight Saving Time.  Not savings.  If you are one of eleventy billion people that say savings, stop it.  Stop it now.  Please and thank you.

Another bright spot today?  My Spurs won.  They beat The Bulls.  Mmmmmmmmhmmmmmm.

I'm about to take a soak in the tub and gear up for some Sunday night television.  The Good Wife, Revenge and The Walking Dead.  Ahhhhhhhh.  

Let the countdown to Spring Break begin.  One more week.  Squeeeeeeee!

Under the Weather

The weather has been pretty crappy here.  And for West Texas, that's a big deal. Normally, I've had to turn the house air conditioner on by now.  At least for a day or two.  This year?  No.  Not even once.  We did have a couple of 80+ degree days.  But with ceiling fans and open windows, we survived.  Today we got our second "ice day."  Ice, y'all.  And people here CANNOT drive on ice.  So, we are at home with blue skies and watching it melt fast.

Why am I complaining? I feel like total doo doo.  I've had a head cold for a couple of days.  This morning, it has moved to my chest.  I managed to skip it last year.  It found me this year and with the fullest wrath of phlegm possible.  I look and I sound like crap.  I'm miserable.  And I'm whiny when I'm miserable.  So someone please call the whaaaaaaaaaambulance.  Because whaaaaaaaaaaa, I just want to feel better.

I promptly ungrounded my boys from electronics to get through this day.  I practically threw their iPads at them and told them to play nice.  Nary a peep from either of them.  Whew.

I'm wrapped up in my fleece blanket in my recliner.  I'm about to refill my hot chocolate and load up on Tylenol again.  Then I will turn on a chick flick that I, undoubtedly, will likely sleep right through.

At least I own it.  I'm the wimpiest sick female ever.  Where's my badge?  There should be a badge for that.  Or a big bag of cough drops.

Whaaaaaaaaaaa!

Ice!

No school today.  It was quite the surprise, too.  Woke up to ice. Not snow. Ice.

Look, poke fun if you want.  If you're from anywhere above the Red River, just have yourself a nice warm bowl of Shut It Stew and let me talk about Texas.  We love snow.  When it happens.  But ice?  No.  Just - - no.  They shut everything down.  The Texas Department of Public Safety is closed.  The freaking DPS, y'all.  They're like in charge of roads and stuff.  Tons of their offices in various counties are closed.  Our city is closed.  Yes, apparently you can close the city. Okay, to be fair, the city government offices are closed.  Meh.  I wasn't going there anyway.  Not filing for mayor this go 'round. Although, I do think a female in the mix would be epic.  That's another blog for another day.

My point is this: we are not equipped to handle this.  We definitely don't know how to drive in this.  People turn into gigantic morons in their vehicles.  Slow down fartheads.  Good grief.  I've heard sirens all morning.  God bless our first responders.  I mean that!

I feel bad for the people who had to go to work.  For jobs that would be just fine if they shut down for the day.  Like, oh I don't know, a local company who sells computer software?  Mr. B went outside to walk the driveway to test it out before he attempted to drive his truck out of the garage.  He came back inside laughing.  

"I busted my ass!" He said.

Yeah. He fell down.  I'm sorry I missed it. I like watching people fall down.  I'm sick and twisted that way.  My exception is old people.  That's not funny.  I do have standards, y'all.

Here's a picture of the ice on my street.  They call it black ice because it's hard to see.  But slick as snot.

Mr. B arrived safely at the salt mine and I'm still in my jammies buried under a fleece blanket sipping on some fantabulous Casi Cielo. I need to do some laundry and stuff.  Stupid chores.

In the meantime, Texas is closed.  But y'all come back real soon.  Ya hear?

Good Morning!

I'm not normally a morning person.  In fact, I'm more in the category of, don't speak unless spoken to first.  I don't like crawling out of my cozy bed.  And I don't like that sometimes parts of me hurt when I first step out of bed.  (Stupid aging process.) I really don't like nagging the kids to get their act together and then warning them that they'll be late.  Again.  Lunches are packed, jackets put on, snacks grabbed and in a whirlwind of craziness, they are out the door.  

This is the moment I become a morning person.

I fix a cup of coffee, grab my iPad and then revel in the silence.  Well, until my routine three sneezes happen.  Then it's back to silence.  No TV.  No radio. Nothing.  Just - - quiet.  

I know a day will come when the silence serves as a reminder of the noises that once were.  I'll sit in my quiet house and miss the crud out of my boys.

But for now, I'm just glad that I didn't hear bickering first rattle out of the bag and I didn't have to raise my voice.  Today is set to be a great day.  I'll take it.

The Lost Book - An Update

Well, I called the teacher today.  I think I know what happened.  I think.  And I can't decide whether to hug him or thump him on the back of his head.

Apparently he and his teacher worked it all out yesterday.  Before the grand search for the book began.  He told her he'd read half of the book and that he hated it.  Consistent with what he's been telling me. She agreed that since he'd given it so much of his time and didn't give up after just a few pages, it was okay to call it quits and pick out a new book.  

He claims, still, not to remember whether he turned it back in or not.  But he did check out a new book and he has begun tearing through it.  

Was he afraid to tell me?  Or was he being a dingy blonde and he really couldn't remember? Who knows!  

With a lot of luck, the book has been returned and Cam will make a 100 on his AR test on Friday.

Good grief.  These kids are adding gray hairs to my head on a daily basis.

Award Winning Mom

If there's an award for the meanest mom on the planet, I'm sure I'd win it.  Why, you ask?  Because I'm following through with discipline.

Here's the deal, my youngest "cleans" by cramming stuff under his dresser, bed and in his closet.  Clean clothes?  Meh - just put them in the hamper. Mom loves to wash clean clothes and fold them again.  She doesn't have better things to do.

Tonight, I had enough. We'd spent a good hour looking for a library book.  (Which is probably at school.)  He's supposed to test on it this week.  He was given two weeks (by the teacher) to read it because it's a pretty big book.  Half way through it, he changed his mind and decided he didn't like it.  And therefore has "conveniently" misplaced it. 

The implications? Well, a big fat zero for the first week and another for this week.  And if it's really lost? Mr. B and I get to buy a lost book.  Awesome, huh?  We LOVE to pay for stuff we don't get.  (Where's that dang sarcasm font when you need it?)

For now, he is cleaning his room and I'm just sitting here supervising.  Because if I don't, he will stop and play with his Legos and throw crap into his closet.  He doesn't like me sitting here.  So I know I'm onto something.  He's also not going to like me escorting him into school in the morning to discuss our options with his teacher.

Ask me if I care?

The honest answer?  I do. I care a lot or I'd just let this slide.  He's a very smart kid who doesn't give three craps about stuff.  He easily makes A's on things without even studying.  He is one of the lucky few in this world who has a photographic memory.  (The main reason I don't buy into his "not knowing" where his library book is right now.)  

I'm trying my hardest to raise future husbands and dads.  I want them to take pride in who they are.  I want them to reach for the stars.  I want them to at least work to their potential.  This half-ass approach to life is unacceptable.

Am I mean?  No.  I'm a mom.  And I'm a good mom.  I will push, and push, and then I'll push some more.  Because that's what good moms do.  Someday they'll thank me.  Someday...

Until then, could someone please issue me my mean mom trophy? I've worked hard for it.

Thanks, Timmy.

The short version of a longish story is this: Timmy left for his new home this afternoon.  And I feel like complete and total crap.

On December 15th, we saw a post on Facebook and made a rather impulsive decision with zero research. We acted fast because the pups were cute and free. Our youngest had been begging for a dog for a long time.  After the Bella (yellow lab puppy) fiasco of a few years ago, you'd think we had learned a lesson. But alas, our hearts trumped our brains and we got Timmy.

As a family, we were adjusting well.  He's so dang cute, it would be impossible not to fall in love with him.

Sure he had accidents and we were having trouble housebreaking him, but that wasn't the biggest problem.  Our poor kitties had begun living in banishment in our bedroom.  They were stuck behind a baby gate and were always looking over their shoulder for Timmy.  Timmy didn't want to hurt them.  He wanted to play.  Cats don't do stress well.  We're pretty sure Moe has another stress induced UTI, Ugh. 

We love dogs.  A lot.  But ultimately, we aren't dog people. We are cat people.  And Timmy needed a dog family.  We found one.  We found friends who are, for all intents and purposes, family.   Timmy will be well cared for and loved there.  I don't question that at all.  And we can see him again when the time is right.

It's just been a tough day.  I love that little brown furball.  I cry when I think about him.  So today, the tears have flowed.

I feel like a huge failure.  I just want everyone to be happy.

There will be a huge vacancy in my lap in the morning while I try to watch the news and drink my coffee.  I'm sure a kitty will saunter into the room and help me redeem myself.  I hope.

Timmy - our family loves you very much.  The decision to let you go was difficult - - at best.  Enjoy your new life with my friends.  My friends, thank you. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you. Take good care of him,  He's a special little dude.  See you later, Pupparoni.

Sleep-Talking with Mr. B.

Mr. B talks in his sleep. Often. I LOVE to engage him in conversation when he's asleep. He never remembers what he said the next day.  It's usually quite hysterical.  I try to keep the conversation going as long as I can.  Because it's fun and stuff.  Here's what was said in tonight's episode:

Mr. B: *feels around the bed*

Me: Hey there.  Whatcha doing? Looking for Gus?

Mr. B: No, the gun.

Me: *craps my pants*

For real. It's locked up. And not in our bed.  But still.  Yikes!. I'll be sleeping with one eye open tonight.

Chore Chart

I'm having a hard time finding a successful chore system around here.  And by chores, I mean some everyday stuff that they need reminders for.  Clear you plate off?  Brush your teeth?  Make your bed? Get your backpack ready for tomorrow?

I've seen some really cute ones out there.  Some whole walls dedicated to organization.  I love it.  But it doesn't work for us.  I'm afraid a dry-erase board would only lend itself to my heathens' inner vandal.

I found a new one that is mostly pre-done in Excel.  I tweaked it and we're starting today.  I'll let you know.

And good grief, children.  Just turn the dang lights off.  That should not need to be on your chores list.

Dorks.

He's a Valentine Farthead

Mr. B: *Rips a fart*

Me: Gross.

Mr. B: *Laughs*

Me: It's not funny.  I miss the good old days back when we were a new couple and you never farted in front of me.

Mr. B: Should I fart behind you instead?

Me: I was thinking more like not at all. No farting.

Mr. B: Do you want me to blow up?

Me: Yes. Absolutely. If that's what it takes to stop the flatulence.

Mr. B: Could you turn around?

Me: Why?

Mr. B: *rips one more*

Me: Happy Valentine's Day, Fart Face.

The Week of Becky

Yep, it's my birthday week.  I believe in celebrating the whole week.  Because I'm awesome and stuff.  

I got my first gift today.  Box seats for opening night at the rodeo.  Which happens to fall on my birthday.  Friday the 13th.  I may need a chauffeur this year.  Last year didn't bode too well for me.  Poor Penny.  May she continue to rest in peace.  Or pieces.  I miss my van.  I also got tickets for the finals and for Cinch Shootout.  Yep - the chick who was SO anti-rodeo a few years ago has seen the light.  Or dudes in tight wranglers.  Same difference.  I'd go to EVERY performance if I could.  The awesome part?  Mr. B is totally fine with it.  He likes to see me happy.  My date for my birthday you ask?  My littlest little.  Cam.  He digs it, too.  Actually, he really digs the cotton candy.

Let the week of Becky commence.  Squeeeeeeeee!