More Changes and Updates

So, here I am again. The absent blogger.

A few events have transpired lately that have led me to make a few changes and my approach to writing. I'll try not to bore you with the details. But I'll see how I can best update you.

Most of you know that I have been doing some freelance writing for the local newspaper. I REALLY appreciate the opportunity they gave to a never-before published writer. I wrote about mom stuff and thoroughly loved doing it. The feedback from readers of the actual, physical copy of the paper were wonderful. I usually posted links to those columns on Facebook. (Save one that I hated the way I was edited.)

I have decided to part ways with the paper. For a couple of reasons.

1.  They couldn't afford to pay me for my column anymore. I spent the last year-ish writing for free. Because I love writing. I love my audience. And honestly, I love being published. It's a writer thing. It's validation that your work is appreciated.

The paper changed ownership a few times and eventually, the editors that I'd grown to love left. The ones who believed in me and often complimented me on my writing. I loved that. And I miss their presence at the paper terribly.

But let's be honest. In this electronic age, the direction of a printed paper is changing fast. We have the world at our fingertips. So when they say they can't afford me, I want to believe them. But when I see what I think are "stupid" columns that they chose to keep, I can't help but wonder. *coughcoughweeklywinecolumncoughcough* Whatever.

2. This one was the real kicker for me. It's no secret that I'm a pretty conservative person. I don't particularly call myself a Republican anymore. Because I think politics in general have lost their collective minds. I have my specific set of beliefs and I really believe in surrounding myself with people that think differently than me. Respectfully disagree. (Translation: Don't be an a-hole about it and we're cool.) I digress. Recently the paper reposted an article written by one of their writers from the main paper. You can research it and figure it out. I don't want to mudsling. When I read the column, I sat there with my mouth flung open. I knew, right then, I couldn't be associated with them anymore. It was time to part ways.

My work is my work. And I want it to stay that way. I am not opposed to freelance work for other blogs or publications that are specific to my subject matter. But I will no longer participate in writing for anyone that is so openly opposed to how I believe. Line drawn in the sand.

I try, REALLY hard, to keep politics out of my writing. And my posts, likes, comments on Facebook. I haven't always been that way. The arena is just too downright hostile. And I don't want any part of it.

So what's my plan?

I plan to keep writing. But instead of it being put in print for free, I'll put it here for free. I'm going to try VERY hard to keep this blog updated like I used to. Then my ultimate goal is to let go of my excuses and get back to work on a book.

If you enjoy reading what you get here, please share it. I'd love that. And I totally understand if you want to give me more time to get some more consistent posts under my belt. Today, I have a ton of ideas to write about. Which always happens when I have a lot to do. Which is something I'll try to write about this weekend.

You guys have been absolutely amazing. I can't thank you enough for your loyalty, belief in me, loving me, encouraging me and just listening.

This is real life up in here. I'm not going to gloss over anything. I'm going to continue to show you the good, the bad and the ugly.  All of it. Not "Debbie-Downer" style. But real.

So buckle up, Cupcakes. We're going to do this.

Love Y'all!

*smooches*

Happy Bath

Because of a semi-meltdown yesterday, I knew it was time for a happy bath. I need to soak off the bad and absorb the good.

I poured in some epsom salt. Then I mixed some Peace and Calming essential oil by Young Living with a little bit of grapeseed (carrier) oil. Oh my. It was heavenly.

I watched an episode of Seinfeld on my iPad while I soaked. Which made me laugh. Out loud.

Then I slathered on some body butter which contained more Peace and Calming in it for my restless legs.

More heaven.

I slept like a baby.

Until Roscoe started throwing deep meows in my ear at 4:30 this morning. That must be when he hooks up with his lady friends. I sent his orange furry butt outside and then I fell right back to sleep. AND, because of boss status, I got the kids to school on time this morning. And nobody raised their voices.

I also read a quick devotional about letting go of anger and fear. Interesting timing. God knows.

Tuesday - - let's do this. I can only imagine how epic this day can be once I get my caffeine fix. Which is coming...

A Diamond in the Rough

Do women have mid-life crisis? Crises? What is the plural of crisis?

I always thought it was just dudes. And they bought shiny sports cars. Or did other unthinkable things. I had my hair cut slightly different. Well, if you call the beginnings of an undercut (google undercut pixie) a mid-life crisis, then that's where I am. At least I'm finally trying to do something different with my hair after a gazillion years of basically the same style.

I'm going through some stuff. Maybe I'm finally growing up. I don't know. Some days I still like to walk around outside in my socks and then tell my parents I did that. 46 and still rebelling. Like a boss.

My ability to tolerate BS has hit an all-time low. I'm just done with crap. I see right through most of it.

Hang on. I just looked down at my "old lady hands" and noticed I'm in desperate need of lotion. BRB.

There. That's better. Nice and moisturized. And I stirred the spaghetti sauce. I'm a mult-tasker. And I did that fast, huh? Yes, be impressed.

So, I'm tired of all kinds of things.

I know what I want.

I want to make much of Jesus. I want to study His word. Every day. Make time with Him a priority. I don't always do that. But I'm working on it. Part of that is plugging in at church. Not just attending. But getting involved. We've recently joined a body of Believers that I feel like will enable me to do just that. Plug in. I don't want to be behind the shadow of anyone. I don't want the spotlight. But I don't want to lurk in the shadows either. I want to serve.

I want to be the best wife I can possibly be. Friday is our 17th anniversary. He has put up with my insanity for a long time. And while he's a dude, he truly is my best friend, confidante, lover and provider. He takes such good care of me and our kids. We have a special anniversary trip coming up that I'll tell y'all about later. I'm looking forward to having him all to myself. No kids. Wheeeeeee!

And oh how I want to be a good mother. I learn everyday. These not so tiny humans need me. Even though they think they don't. They do. They need to see Jesus in me. They need me to teach them how to adult even when I don't feel like adulting myself. They need to see and experience grace and discipline. Much of both. Given and received.

I also want to cultivate quality friendships. The older I get, the less I am about quantity. I want quality. I don't want half-assed relationships. I don't want to be a friend of convenience. Not to others, not for others. All in.

I want to be more secure in who I am. And Whose I am. I grew up feeling incredibly insecure about myself. I was teased. A lot. I had my body type made fun of. A LOT. That started in the 8th grade when I saw a picture of me in a tight (yet modest) tank top. I was on a church mission trip. We had taken a side trip to see the Atlantic Ocean. While it was summertime, it was still cold there. I wasn't real educated about how my body being cold could be easily seen by others. And I'm not talking about normal goosebumps. But yes, bumps. My lights were on. Full beam. The picture taken of me was put on a slide show after the trip. I think it was an innocent submission. But there I was, freezing, looking at the beautiful ocean, about to poke a hole in the camera lens with my high beams.

Everyone laughed.

I cried.

It didn't stop there. I was picked on relentlessly after that.

So I hid behind large clothes. Even after an amazing plastic surgeon "made less of me" on the operating table. My shoulders continued to slump and I hid.

I began changing that over the past year by making a few changes. I've started buying clothes that fit me and I started working out in January. I'll get there. I feel better. So there's that.

The bottom line?

I think God is working in my life. He's showing me where I'm supposed to be. Who I'm supposed to be. What I'm supposed to care about. What I'm not supposed to be concerned with. Jesus gave His life on the cross for ME. And you. And He's got my attention. The polishing/refining process can be painful. But I can only imagine what's on the other side of that process.

So here I am. Just another sinner, saved by grace. I fall down and fail often. Bear with me as I grow.

A Sarcastic Conundrum

I have a reputation for being a bit sarcastic. Or a lot. Yes, a lot.

I was once told by someone that they didn't understand sarcasm and didn't find it an endearing quality in a friendship. Said person "broke up" with me during that conversation. Hey, we don't all click. So it's cool with me.

But here is where the problem is: Do you waste sarcasm on someone who doesn't get it if there isn't an audience of someone who does?

My argument is: Yes. You use the sarcasm. Never waste the opportunity for a sarcastic remark. Because, that receiver of said sarcastic remark just might be out with other friends and relay your comment. Then the other friends will get to snicker. I wouldn't want to deny someone a good giggle. I'm a giver that way.

Now, there's an exception. Or two.

I try, really hard, not to be cruel. I don't pride myself in being mean. That's not nice. If your sarcasm hurts someone that bad, don't do it. Know your audience.

Others straight up don't have the mental capacity to understand sarcasm. Think Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory. While I like to watch Sheldon endure what his buddies dish out, there are others where it would just be mean. Don't be a meanie.

There's a time and a place. Remember that.

And if your friends are THAT sensitive, well, I guess you truly have a problem. Unless they break up with you.

Sometimes you just gotta laugh. Even if OU does suck. *snicker*

Okay, sometimes I can be a jerk, too. I'm sorry. Sort of.

Don't be jerks. Or wusses.

Stay in school, kids. Just not OU.

Oops, I did it again.

*smooches*

Essential Oils

I'm becoming one of those people. You know, the "I have an oil for that" person. I'm running with it. I've dabbled a little here and there. I started my journey a few years ago when I was working a conference and got a raging migraine headache. Since I was basically helping run the conference, I couldn't bail. And I couldn't take my usual meds. The essential oil ladies offered up some help. And bam! It worked. I've bought a few here and there since. But lately, I've begun to embrace the oil life. I have a friend who is all about the oil. And I needed her advice.

I joined the gym in January (don't stereotype me.) I've been mostly faithful in going. Except this week. I've been in a mood. Like filthy brown mood ring. And going to the gym would have been the best thing for me. But that's a post for another day. And there's probably an oil for my craptastic mood I was in.

Anyway, when I started back at the gym, my restless leg problem came back. Can any of you relate to restless leg syndrome? It happens mostly at bedtime. My legs hate my life and I CANNOT keep them still. It's like they are wired to something electrical. They don't hurt. But I have the constant urge to move them. I know you think it's weird and like a made up "illness." It sounds bizarre, I know. But it's real. And it's my struggle.

So I asked my oil lady if she had any tips. Because I'm SO over just adding another medication to my regimen.

Oh goodness, friends. Her first suggestion worked. The blend is by Young Living and it's called Peace and Calming. I add some drops to coconut oil (the carrier oil) and apply generously to my legs at bedtime. My dry legs are getting moisturized and the oil is doing its job. Bless that. And her. Because I can be still.

Last night, I used their "recipe" to make a roller-ball of oils for sleep. Mr. B and I both used it last night and it was heavenly. Very calming. Not girly. Not over-powering. Just - - chill.

I also made soap today.

So, I'm the oil lady, y'all. I'm seriously digging me some essential oils. I don't care if you think I'm weird. I probably have an oil to help you with your skepticism. I'll check into that for you. Because bless you for thinking I'm weird.

Freezing... For real.

I am freezing my butt off. It's 18 degrees outside y'all. Eighteen. Some of you north of, oh, maybe Interstate 20 don't get my frustration with that number. That is some nasty, slap you in the face, cold weather. There are deer that live in a field by our house and it stresses me out that they're going to be very cold tonight. How do they stay warm? Because that doesn't look like a super heavy coat of fur.

Our fur babies are inside. All four of them. In our room. Mr. B is next to me, snoring. Moe is in my office chair, bathing himself. (He's weird when he does this, and it's loud.) Gus waited for Mr. B to fall asleep before he would climb on his legs to call it a night. Roscoe is running from Gracie. She's chasing him relentlessly. I think he likes it though. They go into our bathroom and play in the empty bathtub. I'm not sure any of my cats are playing with a full deck. Maybe they're in survival mode like me. We do what we can to stay warm.

Look, the struggle is real. We get MAYBE a month of winter down here. And that's a scattered month. Next week, it's going to be back in the 70's.

I'm just sad for the deer. And all of the other critters trapped out in the bitter cold. I wish I could call them up to the house, introduce myself as a friendly, and tell them to just warm up in the garage overnight. I could scatter some hay or something and have a makeshift barn. Then I'd make the kids sweep the deer doo doo out of the garage in the morning.

Now it's seventeen degrees. Fun. Please let this finally kill the mosquitoes.

I'm going to bed. With my heavy down comforter and electric blanket. And feel bad for the deer. Bless them. Bless the cute ones with the white spots on them. And their mamas.

My brain goes weird places when I'm tired. On that note, I'm out.

Goodnight fans.
Goodnight stalkers.
Goodnight deer.
Goodnight Gracie.

Hello 2017!

Hi, y'all.

New year.

New goals.

Blah, blah, blah.

So here's the deal - we're three days in and people are already on my nerves. Why? Because everyone has to have an opinion on something. Everything is wrong with everything. And I'm tired of it. Some examples:

We can't have resolutions anymore or we'll get made fun of. For real. It's a thing. Look, I get that a lot of resolutions seem lame. But perhaps, for five seconds, consider the date. January 1st is a fresh start for a lot of people. And if that's what it takes for you to decide to lose weight, read more books, watch less television, whatever, then go for it. I like the idea of fresh starts. I like goals. I like setting them. And If I want to set a few goals for 2017, then I'm going to do it. If you don't like it? Go sit back down in your "I'm better than that" corner and have a blast looking down on the goal-setters. We'll all just be over here resolutioning our little hearts out. Because we don't care what you think. Have fun not trying to make yourself better. Or at least not telling us that you are. Because, you know, accountability and all that.

Another - - if you smoke weed or do other things that could potentially be harmful for your body or brain cells, please don't lecture me about my diet sodas. Or that I shouldn't eat red meat. Because there are less cares I could give about your "educated" opinion. Seriously, go hang out with Al in one of his super homes and chat over the whole global warming thing. Puh-lease.

Handslappy Christianity - - oh Lort. She went there. Yes. I. Just. Did. I saw it posted this morning. And I was like, oh my goodness. Here we go again. Christians being all judgy of other Christians. I'll say it now and I'll say it loud - - knock it off. If I see a pretty picture with a Bible verse on it and I want to share it on Instagram, I'm going to share it and hope that maybe God uses it to bless someone's day. I know that it's not the Scripture in it's entirety. Oh do I know. Do you know anyone who preaches THE ENTIRE BIBLE in every sermon? No. It doesn't usually work like that. So settle down on your self-righteousness. Love that God's word is out there. And people are sharing it. (This one was a huge face-palm for me thing morning.) Look, Christians - - love Jesus, love others. That part isn't hard. Careful with that plank in your own eye... (Oops, I did it again. Heh.)

I don't know. In today's age of "safe spaces" and all that, I'm just tired. Everything is wrong. People are wrong. You can't say that. You can't think that. Love animals more than you love other humans.

Here's the deal. I'm going to fail. A lot. This year is no exception to other years. But because I'm somewhat of an optimist - - I'm still going to set some goals. And you know what else? I'm going to celebrate when I succeed. And when I fail, I'm going to pick myself up, dust off and start over again. Or re-evaluate.

So you go rock the snot out of 2017. Be proud of who God made you. Set some goals. Don't set some goals. We're all just out here doing our best to put one foot in front of the other one. Some days are harder than others. Back off on the haughty derision and throw a sister some support. We could all use a little more encouragement.

I'll try to post more than twice a year. But don't call that a goal. It's my reality.

Love y'all.

*muah*

Taking a Netflix Break...

Mr. B and I are the masters of binge watching shows. Masters. 11:00 p.m.? Meh, we can squeeze in one more episode. That's a freaking lie, Man. It never fails, the next night, we're both like, "I don't even remember that part of the story line. What happened? Did we sleep through some of that?" The reality is: we're Masters of Netflix UNTIL 11:00. No later. We're old.

So anyway, my first show to binge with him was Breaking Bad. Yes. Walter White. Jesse Pinkman. Crystal Meth. RV cooking lab. Loved it. Then Better Call Saul started on AMC. We've been watching it (like live and stuff, which sucks because you can't jump from season to season in fifteen seconds. Blah.) So after the season finale, we were like, "Hey, let's watch Breaking Bad again." And we did. And honestly, I'd start watching it again. Because even though meth is bad, that show was all kinds of awesome. Here is my absolute favorite scene in the whole series:

Heisenberg - I'm the One Who Knocks

Mr. B actually binge watched it before me. I was busy binge watching The Walking Dead at the time. He was a definite no-go on TWD. (Yeah, he has his faults. He doesn't understand the significance of the zombie apocalypse and a hot, bow and arrow wielding, bad ass, redneck who rides a motorcycle. But whatever.)

Then he started watching Daredevil while I watched Gilmore Girls. I was so hooked on GG that I'd watch on my ipad in the bathtub. I may or may not have sipped on wine. (I totally did.)

Then came Prison Break. Loved it. They lost me for a few epi's in season three or four. I can't remember. But I picked it right back up.

We broke our rule with our most recent show. Judge all you want. But we watched all four seasons of Orange is the New Black. Ummmmmm, it's bad. And there are DEFINITELY some cringe-worthy scenes. But overall, we really liked it. But now we have to wait until 2017 to see season five. Crap. That's what we get for breaking our own rule. Dang it.

So last night, Mr. B was asking what's next.

Wait, what? Do you even know me at all? The Summer Olympics. We watch the olympics. We watch swimming and gymnastics. And occasional other events. He's a no on that, too. I told him to pick up his own show that I'll never watch and we'll meet back up for our TV dates when the olympics are over.

Of course there are random Friends and The Office episode days. Sometimes a girl just needs to laugh.

So that's us, y'all. We Netflix. We are a Netflix family. And I'm not even ashamed to admit it.

But Friday is coming - -

I WILL cry EVERY time a USA athlete gets a gold, the national anthem is played and our flag is raised. I just will. And I can't wait! Squeeeeeeeeeee!

Okay.

I'm in a total funk today. A total post-mother's day funk. Enough of one that I can't even force myself to capitalize the letters.

Yesterday (Mother's Day) was actually nice. Mr. B made my favorite lunch and Cameron made brownies. Justin, well, Justin didn't do anything. But he wasn't in a difficult mood. So that was nice.

I got a new pair of Birkenstocks. I ordered them myself and they were delivered a few weeks ago. I put the box in Mr. B's closet and he handed them to the boys to hand to me yesterday morning. I'm sorry Future Mrs. Brays. I'm trying my best to teach them about days that are important to the special ladies in their life. Mr. B has none of it. He's NOT the sentimental type. At. All. Nobody tells him when to give a gift or celebrate. He does that on his own time table. And he rocks it when I least expect it.

Cameron did let me wear some dolphin necklace thingy he got at AWANA last week. He told me I could borrow it anytime I wanted. He also gave me a foot massage. I do think this was a ploy to stay up later. Which worked.

I didn't nag either of them about their rooms. Which are awful.

This morning they had Moms & Muffins at their school. This seems like a total waste of time and money for secondary students. Cameron insisted I go. So I got up, showered, did my hair and put on make up. He wouldn't get out of bed. So we were late. Justin, fearing he might actually die if he didn't grab a gazillion mini muffins, practically jumped out of the car while I was still parking. Then he was gone. Bye, Son. Cameron fixed his plate. Then I poured him some juice. Then he looked at me like, "Now what?" So I told him to go ahead to his class with his friends. Then I left.

I drove myself straight to Starbucks where I bought myself a Venti White Chocolate Mocha.

I came home and drank it alone.

Then I went back to the boys' rooms to survey the damage.

Gross.

I just shut the doors and walked away. Out of sight, out of mind. I'm not the maid.

Again - - I'm trying Future Mrs. Brays. I'm trying. They're gross. But I promise, it's not my fault. I assure you, the master bedroom would be a disaster if I didn't keep stuff picked up. Do they enjoy the chaos? I know I don't. Clutter makes me crazy!

Now, because I'm the World's Okayest Mom, I'm going to pack a snack for the little twerps and take it to their school. They are going to the movies but it doesn't start until later after school is over. So they will have to wait for a while. And again, being the World's Okayest, I didn't give them much money for the movies. See how far that $6 will get you in the concession stand. Perhaps it will teach them to prioritize. But I will take them a small snack to tie them over. World's Okayest to the rescue.

Don't even get me started on end of the school year projects. My money is on this: any project coming out of this house will suck. We're talking lots 'o suck. Because I refuse to help. I will purchase the necessary supplies. But I will not be doing the project. I'm tired. And I've successfully completed the sixth grade already. No need for me to do that again. Now if he wants to repeat it, that's his business.

Well, I guess I better put my pants back on if I'm going to take them something.

See how okay I am? I'm getting dressed. I'll be wearing clothes. I'm so comfy, y'all. But, I gotta go do my thing and be - - okay.

I need to order this for my van:

Gilmore Girls, Laundry and Rabies

I'm going to attempt to describe my day. Well, I'm going to throw in tidbits of my week while I'm at it. Just to give you some perspective.

So. Here you go.

It's been a very busy couple of months. I'm on the committee planning a marriage conference for this weekend. I've been buried in meetings, group texts, What's App conversations, phone conversations, conference calls, etc. Like real world business type stuff, but with an outcome I can only pray is going to rock faces off of marriages this weekend. I know that Jesus is going to be glorified, y'all. I just know. Because that's what HE does.

I'm going to tell you about the events that have transpired a little out of order. Because that's how my brain works. And it adds some punch.

We've established that I've been busy. No plans after our last meeting tonight. I even got home at a decent hour. I came home to dinner having been already cooked and some left out for me to devour. Which I did. I did the dishes (because I'm a contributor) and it's pretty much the dealio around here. If the mister cooks, I clean up. Props to the cook. The meal was delish. I then promptly disposed of the bra (satan's undergarment), put on my comfy t-shirt and sleep shorts and crawled up into my comfy bed. I needed to binge watch some Gilmore Girls.

Why? Because it has been a day. A week. Long ones at that.

As I sat down in the meeting late this afternoon, this is the text I got from my husband. "I got bit by a dog." And the text included a picture. One does not just reply back with a text. A medical rule follower wife follows that kind of text up with a phone call. I'll spare you the details. The mister was out for his daily walk when, completely unprovoked, an unrestrained yippy dog attacked his leg. And bit him. Hard. Immediate bruising and it broke the skin. Yes, he told the people to restrain their dog or his next kick wouldn't be as kind. No, he did not get their information. Or ask about the dog's shot record. Or anything. He kept walking.

Yeah. Be like me and sit there with you mouth hung open for a while and try to process the rationale there.

I'll wait.

Yeah. BECAUSE IT MAKES ZERO SENSE TO NOT GET INFORMATION FROM THEM. ZERO.

So now I'm in a meeting and I start texting him, begging him to go hunt these people down. Because, you know, RABIES. He was indifferent about it. So I decided that I'm not his mom. Fine. I'm the wife. Go up your life insurance, dude. If that's how you want to play this.

This put me in a mood. Hence the Gilmore Girls. I wanted some girly time with my most favorite dysfunctional mother/daughter duo on television. I had two episodes left in season six and I was determined to finish them. Which I did. And because the finale gave me the sads, I dove right in to season seven. (God bless you, Netflix.) Two more episodes down.

All the dudes in our house (kitties included) and sound asleep. Peaceful. Quiet. My happy place.

That's when I heard the crashing sound.

I jumped up to inspect. Sure enough, Captain Flails His Arms and Legs Whilst Sleeping had knocked his new diffuser over. Yes, I've become the crazy oil lady. I must say though, diffusing lavender is helping the Captain fall asleep. Water on the carpet. Lots of it. So I ran into the boys' bathroom to grab a towel. I cleaned up the mess and decided to add the towel to the laundry since it had the oil in it.

The laundry. Oh dear Lord. The laundry. The laundry fairy forgot about her dang job and just like quit or something.

So now, it's almost 1:00 a.m. and I'm doing laundry. My first load of about four.

Out of sight, out of mind. I forgot to wash my kids clothes. So much winning, y'all. But wait, there's more.

Yesterday, I finally felt like hitting the walking trail again. I had some bad trouble with shin splints the week before and the soreness was finally gone. So I took the one hour break in this weird Texas rain we've been getting and got out to walk. Half way through my first lap, my cell phone rings. It was the school. Crap. I have to take those. No swiping there.

It was the principal. Did I have a moment to discuss a discipline issue? Heh? With the Captain? Really? Him? Not the other one? The Captain indeed. He apparently got "involved" in a scuffle between two other students by trying to get in between them and stop it. His method needed a little fine-tuning and he only made things worse. They were merciful and only made him write a few apology letters. Because it was everyone involved's belief that he was truly trying to do the right thing. He was just doing it the wrong way. At the end of the day, we now have a discipline file at school. Nice.

I desperately need to go to bed. I have a long weekend ahead of me.

But because my mom is asleep at this hour (as most intelligent humans are) I couldn't call her to regale the woes of my day. So this one is for posterity's sake. And for her to read eventually. And, it's a partial attempt to rat the mister out to his mom and see if she will "Mom Him" into finding that dumb dog's owners and get to the bottom of the rabies thing. Assuming she reads this. I'm not a snitch or anything. Snitches get stitches. Others get ongoing rabies treatment, which is worse. So I hope she reads this and goes full-on nag on him. Go get him, Nana!

I swear we are on a comedy show for an alternate universe or something.

I believe I will save the other three loads of laundry for tomorrow morning and I'll knock out a few more episodes of GG while I do that. For now, my bed beckons me. Time to sleep.

Oh - - I almost forgot - - something good did happen today. I won a $5 gift card from our local Starbucks for playing in their Thursday trivia contest. Yay me! And I got my eyelashes touched up by THE amazing Karen Richardson, eyelash extraordinaire! My eyes POP! Thanks, Karen! You are the best!

Goodnight from Bizarro World. Strange things are happening. It's starting to freak me out a little.

*muah*

B

Finish Strong, Teachers!

If you're a teacher - - I'm not calling you out. In fact, I want you to sit back, take a deep breath, and hear what I'm saying. Resist the urge to get defensive and hear me out. Okay. I'm not attacking you. I'm on your side. Just - - listen.

I saw this post on Facebook back in January:

And I was like, "Oh, yes! Preach!"

Because, yes, I've seen several countdown posts. Pictures of numbers on various cakes. Random numbers. Just numbers counting down how many days are left in school.

Again - - I hear you. In fact, I GET you. I know you work in a under-appreciated job. I know you have parents who give you zero support. I know you have very difficult children in your classroom. I know you work early in the morning and late in the evening. I know you spend a lot of your own money to buy things for your classroom. I know.

What I also know is that as a mom of two school aged boys, I'm tired, too. I'm tired of the worksheets that seem like busy work. I'm tired of doing math problems that make my brain feel like it's bleeding out. I'm tired of nagging my son to read another AR book because he "has" to. Not because he wants to. I'm tired of the sound of the alarm in the mornings. I'm tired, too.

We are all tired.

Let's do this together. Let's finish strong. I will do my part at home to encourage my children to do their absolute best. Right up until the last day. Then feel free to post your silly videos about how you are finally free. The halls are empty and you can finish up your paperwork and hit the trails. Go on vacation. Enjoy your time off. I'm sorry you still have to go to occasional workshops in the summer. But I'm glad you have opportunities to stay at the top of your field.

We're still in this though.

I get that MOST of you are busting your butts. And MOST of you really love my/our kids. Thank you for that. 

But the message your countdown sends is that you can't wait to be away from it all. Which makes me think that you would check out today if you could. Please don't. Don't check out. Resist the urge to daydream about sleeping late and spending time reading a great book in a lounger at the pool. I'm trying my best to not check out either. Believe me, the easier option would be to not give three craps about their homework. They'll do good enough to pass to the next grade. No. Just NO! I'm pushing. And I expect you to push, too. Inspire them. Teach them. I would if I could. But it's not my calling. I'm their parent. I'll parent my ass off if you'll teach yours off.

Please stop getting angry when a frustrated parent cringes at your countdown. Quit talking about how much you really love my kids. Prove it. Do the job you were called to do and stop whining. Can we both agree to do that?

Finish strong, teachers. Finish strong, parents. Finish strong, students. We are a team. We are not the enemy.

Thank you for answering the call to teach. It takes a special person to put up with the ridiculous BS and bureaucracy. Hang in there.

Hanging in there, too,

Mama B