Ivy is going to military school and things I wouldn't wish on you

Ivy intentionally splashed water in my ear last week. Now I have swimmer's ear and it is AWFUL.

So swimmer's ear is now something I wouldn't wish on anyone, along with the rest of this list.....

Kidney stones: is there any worse pain other than self-disembowelment??

Swallowing a fly: this was a total accident, but I swear I've never felt worse. Like a gross tv show that you can't stop watching because you ARE the tv show.

Breaking a toe: it hurts!!! And when you go to the ER, they laugh at you and send you home with duct tape.

Have a first grader pee on your foot during 1st period: you think you're in the clear when it's not kindergarten. You are wrong.

Living with an adolescent girl: my mom deserves props for allowing me to live through age 11.

I want my...I want my...I want my kids' TV

I don't have to worry about my kids watching too much TV anymore. Because they don't watch it!

It's been forever since I had to listen to Girl Meets World or Teen Titans! I didnt even have to ground them.

I have total control over the remote. I can watch as much Law and Order as I want!!

You may think I'm mom of the YEAR or that my kids have had some sort of spiritual transformation, but sadly that's not the case.

This TV watching shortage in my house is the direct result of YouTube. There's Stampycat, who walks around a fake blocky world talking in an annoying falsetto. There's DisneyCar  toys, which open packs of Shopkins and Baby Alive dolls and have some sort of soap opera going on with Elsa and Anna dolls. Every Justin Bieber and Megan Trainor song has a corresponding video.

And then every child on Abby Lee's dance team has 62 videos on how to put on makeup or the latest gross sounds they can make.

I never thought I would say this, but I kind of miss Dora the Explorer asking me which way to go a thousand times.

I ask too much

Story is convinced that I am a monster who is trying to break her free will and turn her into a mini-slave. So I present to you...the top ten Story statements that demonstrate how I am ruining her life:

1. Mommy, I don't understand how you won't just let me be ME.

2. Why are you always wanting me to be a better person than I am? I don't want to be any better.

3. I don't think I should always have to be nice to you guys unless you are getting me something.

4. I have no control over my life. You tell me everything I am supposed to do. Can I go pee? Am I allowed to breathe?

5. I shouldn't have to be good.

6. You don't ever let me do anything I want to do!

7. Why do you want me to look so perfect all the time?!?! I don't want to be. Stop brushing my hair.

8. Really? How many more times in life do I have to shower???

9. You let me stay up too late and you wake me up too early!!!!!!

10. Why do you want me to be nicer? I have to be nice to people all day. I'm tired of being nice when I get home.

Nature's cruel joke

When my girls were toddlers, they wanted to do everything themselves. Screams of, "I can do it BY MYSELF!!!" echoed throughout my house for years.

Some things are good to do by yourself when you're three... "Yes, you can clean your room all by yourself!" "Sure, go ahead and wash your face all by yourself!"

Others not so much. "No, you may not pour milk from the new gallon jug all by yourself." "Cutting your hair by yourself is not okay." "No, slicing your chicken nugget with the fileting knife by yourself isn't safe."

But with age comes manual dexterity and common sense, and the ability to do many many things on your own! I was very excited for the days my kids learned to put their clothes away, take their own showers, dust, and take care of their own stuff!

Of course, now that they can, they won't. Instead of "No! Let me help!" My days are filled saying, "For heaven's sake, you are ten years old, stop being lazy and do it yourself!"

Mommy, can you please wash my hair?

Mommy, can you help me put my clothes on?

Mommy, will you please help me do my math?

Mommy, please help me clean this up."

Will you get me a drink? Put on my shoes? Brush my teeth? Find me something to eat? Open this? Count this? Do this for me?

Every single thing they fought so hard to do themselves is now something they want me to do! It's harder work than giving baby baths and changing diapers!

I guess one day I'll be alone and regret saying this, but when do I get a break? :) 

It's math

When I was in school, we had reading groups. I was a Bluebird. The Bluebirds were an elite group of 3rd grade readers. We were so cool, we read out of the fourth grade book. Most days of the week we would sit on the floor of the back of the room and read our fourth grade book full of interesting stories and big words.

The Cardinals were the group right under us. They read exactly where they were supposed to read at all through the year. We knew because they sat in the middle of the room and we could hear them reading a story we had already conquered.

The Robins were the slower readers. We didn't know what they read because they sat in their desks at the front of the room with the teacher.

As a much older person and also as a teacher, I can see that this maybe wasn't the best system for the Robins, or even the Cardinals. I know now that grouping readers like that is bad for self esteem, especially when it was near impossible to move up or down in groups.

So why are my kids being grouped in math?

There are a million arguments against and for Common Core, and I am not debating that. I'm debating the fact that my kids come home from school gleeful that they received the E homework, or devastated that they got the P, or heaven help us, the dreaded R homework.

Most days they have a Quick Check. I don't know what that is, but that determines the homework paper they have that night.

The E is for Enrichment. That's a paper they get that has absolutely nothing to do with what they learned that day, my kids say. It is the elite of math homework.  When you get the E, you are a smart cookie. (And when you get the E, your math smart mommy is clueless on what to do....it's like those problems at the end of the lesson that mommy's teacher always told them to skip).

P is for Practice. It has a bunch of problems about the lesson. Sometimes Math Mommy still doesn't know what to do.

R is for Reteach. My kids are so upset and embarrassed when they get an R that they hide it. So I have never even seen an R paper.

And so I wonder, how is this any less harmful to my kids' self esteem than the reading groups? Sure, it's a daily chance to get an E, but it's also a daily dose of ego boosting or ego crushing. And Ivy says all the kids know what the other kids got. And then they gloat or are embarrassed.

When I was a Bluebird, I never once made a Robin or a Cardinal feel bad. When reading class was over, all the bird life was forgotten and we were one class again going outside to enjoy our 30 minutes of morning recess. Followed by our lunch recess, and then our afternoon recess (and I'll complain about that in another post some day).  We didn't feel the need to wear a scarlet letter declaring our intelligence and worry about it changing daily.

Mommy woes: Reading is bad

Ivy has a new love of reading. 

I have always bought books, borrowed books from the library, and heck, I pay $10 a month for Amazon free reading. Just so my kids will read. And they don't.

Apparently I have been choosing the wrong books. Ivy has read two whole books in a week that did not have pictures. No. Pictures. People!!!!!

They were recommended by her language arts teacher (who also happens to be my best friend). This is great, really....I was so excited to see her reading.

I have always picked happy books with no hard issues....these were books that made her think. And cry. For a few hours.

Now, I can't count the number of times I have sobbed incoherently over fictional characters. How many times did they die unexpectedly?  Or do something awful? Or break my heart, or have their own heart broken? I am no stranger to the emotional onslaught of a book.

But how am I going to console my daughter when so and so dies and she cries for two hours? I can't even fall back on, "They are in a better place now! We'll see them again in heaven!" because they don't exist.

I could read the book so I could more accurately gauge what she is going through, but I don't want to be sobbing at the end of it, too. So far, the best I can do is hold her while she sobs.

Things I Miss

I am not a sentimental mother.

And that's good because I think you can get lost in that....looking back so much that you don't see what your kids are doing in the present.

People miss their kids being babies....they remember them being small and cuddly and smelling good and smiling.....when I see a baby I acknowledge their smell and cuddlyness....but I also remember they have diapers, they cry, they can't talk, they puke, and they require you to pack a giant bag of anything they may need in the course of an hour anytime you go anywhere.....

I read a blog post about a mom who missed washing her daughter's hair. Not me. Maybe I'm not missing that one since I'm newly able to send them to the shower and scream 52 times from the living room, "Are you done?? Don't forget to use the soap!"

I enjoy the fact that they can use the microwave. I like that they can semi-choose matching clothes to wear if I just really don't want to pick them out. I am glad they can read instructions, and that I can trust them around electrical outlets, and also that I know Story won't go straight for the knives and cut her fingers off if they're putting away dishes. Theoretically they might be able to survive a few days without me!

The other day I made a list....a list, people! They did the things on the list. They cleaned toilet seats and sinks and swept floors. I was free to do laundry....and I started to think, "wow, this motherhood thing may be starting to pay off!!"

I'm not entirely cold hearted. I occassionally have a moment of nostalgia thinking about where they were totally entertained by a few belly tickles and eye contact. And then I ask Ivy to make me a bowl of popcorn and she does so I'm okay being in the present.

Watch this

Yesterday I wore a watch to church.

I used to wear watches all the time. I remember some super cool neon pink digital watches I wore back in the day. At one point in my life, I actually had three watches that I could change depending on what I wore! And when a watch died, I just threw it away and bought another $2 Walmart watch. 

When I was in college playing oboe 5 hours a day it seemed, I'd take my watch off, but it was always set up on my music stand so I could see just how much longer I had to play.

I don't know when I stopped wearing a watch. I've come to the conclusion that it coincided with the importance of my cell phone. When you're on your phone all day, there's no reason to have a watch to keep time! 

But of course, there are times throughout the day when looking at your cell phone for the time is considered a social faux pas. In the middle of a meeting. When talking to someone you wish you weren't talking to. In church.

Yesterday, I looked at my wrist and realized the time was right there. I didn't have to sneak a look at my phone in my purse to see the time! In fact, I could simply look at my wrist as many times as I wanted to. I bet I stared at my wrist a million times after I came to the realization that no one could see me checking the time!

It's sad to think about the lack of watch wearing happening today. Young people don't wear them. Older people do, but maybe out of habit. Is the watch industry suffering??

I've decided to bring back the art of watch wearing. Who's with me? We've got to save the livelihood of watchmakers everywhere. And then we can sneak a look at the time occasionally when we're not supposed to.

Bones

Ivy has just finished a unit on bones. I should have studied it with her because now I'm forced to decipher comments and questions such as these:

Mommy, my tibia hurts!

Mommy, how exactly do my ribs protect me?

Mommy, why do I have an anvil in my ear?

Mommy, can you check my metatarsals?

Mommy, why does your clavicle stick out?

I'm constantly googling bone names just to try and understand what the heck she's talking about.

But here's my favorite....I was putting on Ivy's jeans, complaining about having to get them over her butt. Exasperated, I yelled, "WHY is your butt so big?!?"

Ivy said, "That's an easy one. It's because my pelvis is bigger than a man's."

4:15....4:15....

For three days in a row, I have spontaneously awakened at 4:15 AM.

Which is good, I guess, I feel rested. Awake. Ready to start the day....

But something in the back of my brain can't stop thinking this waking up has a bigger purpose than I am aware of....or I at least keep thinking like a movie director....

WHY am I waking up at 4:15??? WHAT is going to happen to me at 4:15 that I need to be awake for????

• Is someone in my family going to choke or have a heart attack at 4:15?? Am I awake so I can administer CPR???

• Is someone going to rob our house at 4:15??

• Will my mom need me one day soon at 4:15???

• Am I going to be abducted by aliens at 4:15, and do they keep waking me up at this time to prepare me???

• Am I going to pull a Richard Gere (from the Mothman Prophesies) and suddenly find myself driving my car in Point Pleasant, WV...at 4:15????

I mean, it could be anything!!! My biggest task here is to wait and be ready for whatever is in store for me (because I'm always on camera and my life's a movie, right?).

Or, I just accidentally woke up at this time the other day and my body is following a pattern.

The first one's cooler though.

 

Big Bugs

In bed with Story...

Story: Mommy, are big bugs real?

Me: Yes, there are big bugs in the world.

Story: No, Mommy, are BIG BUGS real??

Me: What are you calling big? Wasps are big. Some spiders are big. Moths can be big.

Story: (clearly exasperated with me and rolling her eyes back in her head) no, Mommy, listen to me!! BIG bugs, like "Don't let the big bugs bite!"

Me: Oh, you mean BED bugs?

Story: No! Big bugs!

Me: It's BED bugs.

Story: Beds have bugs???? Big bugs?

Me: No, they're small. You almost can't see them.

Story: I can't ever sleep in my bed again.

I blame....SCHOOL!

Someone yesterday mentioned my blog, and I thought, "Gee, I haven't written on it for like two months."

So then I logged in, and realized I hadn't posted since JUNE. Of 2012.

And you know what? I blame....SCHOOL. Yes, school. Both of my kids are in SCHOOL. And that means I am a constant homework enforcing, chauffeur to these two little kids who are so young, they shouldn't be involved in anything! And yet they are!!

That got me thinking....I actually blame school for many, many things now....

• Teaching my kids to read. I can no longer spell anything!! I can't spell "McDonald's" or "playground" or "toys" or "Santa" because they seem to know what the word I am spelling is!!! Now in order to talk to my husband about something I don't want them to know about, I actually have to leave the room! Or create some secret kind of language that I can't keep straight so when I'm trying to say, "Let's take them to the park," I actually say something like "Yes, you can buy a golf cart!"

• Peer pressure. My kids used to be happy with everything I gave them/let them do. now they have things to compare it to...."Mommy, Katie says her mommy is taking her to Disney World. Why don't you take us to Disney World??" Or, "Mommy! Annie only wears clothes from Justice!!! She only wears dresses and glitter boots!!! I want dresses and glitter boots!!!" I swear, I don't think my wallet can compete with this.

• Math. Suddenly they know that getting a nickel for cleaning the playroom isn't keeping up with inflation.

• The tooth fairy. You know, our tooth fairy just can't afford to give $20 for losing a tooth. They want a new tooth fairy. Maybe the one their friends have.

• Science. The girls aren't happy with my explanations of how things work anymore. They now know that dinosaurs don't live under their beds to keep them from getting out of bed. They know that God doesn't make clocks and toys function properly. And they ask all sorts of questions about how cars work (I have no idea, I put the key in and it goes), why you can't eat chips all the time (because it makes you sick! Just ignore that I do it), and where dreams come from (I swear I learned this in psychology like 20 years ago, but honestly I don't have a clue now). They now know that I am just not as smart as they once thought.

So, thank you, school. Thank you for making me look bad.

Cowgirl and the loose tooth

Ivy had this loose tooth that she had been wiggling for days, much to my dismay. See, I hate loose teeth. I can't stand to watch them being wiggled. I don't like to think about them being pulled.   I never pulled my own teeth ...and I tried to hide them from my dad so he wouldn't pull them. There's NO WAY I would ever be able to pull someones tooth.

But, I have a kid losing teeth at an alarming rate.  A friend of the family pulled her first tooth. Her teachers have pulled many more of them. Her dad pulled one. One just fell out.  I have had nothing to do with any of them.

The tooth in question had been pulled on by many, including Ivy, but of course not me.  She walked through Wal-mart wiggling it. Played on the swing set wiggling it. Laid in bed wiggling it.

Then, as I am making the bed yesterday, I hear a scream, a cry, a thud, and an undecipherable exclamation....something like "Fye Foooo!!! Aye looooffff id!"

I ran out into the hallway and was immediately confronted by Ivy, blood dripping down her chin. "Fye Foof!" she exclaimed. "Fye foof es gone!!!!"  I ushered her into the bathroom, gave her a cup, and told her to start rinsing.

But not all the noise was coming from Ivy. Story stood in the door of the playroom sobbing, large tears falling from her eyes down onto her cheeks. "What's wrong??" I asked. "Ivy is fine! She just lost her tooth!"

"I know!!!!" Story wailed. "I made her tooth fall out!!!!" And with that sentence, she wailed even louder.

"What happened???" I asked, but inconsolable Story couldn't tell me.  A non-bleeding but still-hard-to-understand Ivy filled in the blanks.

Story had decided that she wanted to be a cowgirl.  And that Ivy was going to be her horse. All good horses have reins, though, and this issue was remedied by a jump rope placed in Ivy's teeth. Story mounted, grabbed hold of her reins, and pulled...and suddenly Ivy didn't have a tooth anymore.

Story was still crying, but I managed to calm her down and explain that she kind of did a good thing...of course, jump ropes in mouths were bad, and it could have been a permanent tooth, but all that aside, she didn't need to cry anymore.

Five minutes later, I found the tooth. It had been flung 15 feet into the next room. If I had been a forensic pathologist, I could have determined that something much more dangerous happened with the jump rope to fling the tooth that far, but lucky for Ivy and Story, I'm just a music teacher.

Ivy Teaches Story About Digestion

Often, Ivy feels the need to instruct Story on the ways of the world. While eating pizza in the back seat, Ivy decided to teach Story about a process called "indigeshun."

IVY: Story, did you know that this pizza will turn to poop in your body?

STORY: what??

IVY: it's called indigeshun. You chew the pizza and it is in your mouth.

STORY: I don't have poop in my mouth.

IVY: no! Listen! Then it goes in your throat.

STORY: I have poop in my throat?

IVY: No! Your throat goes to your tummy. And the food goes to your tummy. And then it goes into....mommy?

ME: yes?

IVY: what's that tube after your tummy called?

ME: the intestine?

IVY: yes, Story, the food goes to your small testine.

STORY: I have a test?

IVY: No! TESTINE! Then it goes to your big testine.

STORY: how big is my testine?

IVY: And then it goes to the toilet.

STORY: I don't put food in the toilet. That's where the poop goes.

IVY: No, Story, it's poop then!

STORY: but when is the food poop?

As much as I was enjoying this science lesson, Ivy started to tell her the whole process AGAIN and I changed the subject.

And only Ivy could continue eating her pizza at this point.

Fashionistas!

I know, I've been absent. It's been very busy...research papers due, band concerts, band trips, moving...

But moving to a new house has given my children a new freedom- going outside. It's not that they couldn't play outside before, but I always had to go with them (no fence and a million strange men driving by on golf carts)...and I'm a lazy and bad mom. I'd much rather do laundry than sit outside with my kids, a choice they could never fathom: Why do we need clean clothes??

In our new house, though, we have a totally fenced in yard with many windows overlooking it. They can go outside together without telling me. How exciting is that?? In the few months they've been doing this, I've noticed a rather alarming trend. Instead of wearing shorts and a t-shirt outside (comfortable clothes that they can get dirty), they dress up to play like they're going to the preschool prom!

What are the rules of dress for outside play according to Ivy and Story? Skirts. Always skirts. Or dresses. And it seems as though the less the articles of clothing match, the better.

If I didn't force them to wear tennis shoes or sandals, they'd be riding their bikes in cream colored patent leather heels or 3 inch wedge sandals. In this picture, Story has mixed a selection of Ivy's clothing together with her own flip flops (Mommy's suggestion). And Ivy is bedecked in her former clothes that are now Story's. I guess I should applaud them for sharing??

Bathing suits and printed tights also acceptable. Christmas dresses and snow boots equal outdoor fashion awesomeness.

Princess ball gowns over Spongebob pajamas...look for it in the fall on runways everywhere.

And the number one rule of play fashion?? ANY T-shirt Mommy forces you to wear can be instantly made acceptable by the addition of a too-short gauzy tutu.


I often beg for them to just wear some normal playclothes, and to limit their outfit changing to once a day, requests that are ignored and laughed at. Every day, especially in the summer, is a fight to express themselves through clothing!

For Mother's Day, my present from them was that they "would wear anything that Mommy wanted them to all day, without crying about it." It was a nice gesture.

If I don't post again for a couple of months, you'll know it's because I'm too busy laundering tights and bathing suits and tutus.

The White Pants Dilemma

In my closet, there are lots of pants. Some are too big. Some are too small. Some are just right. (Yes, I have three bears living in my closet.)

And one pair, one very special pair, is white. White. Very white. And they have never ever been worn!!

I'm not sure why I keep them in there. They do fit. And I tell myself all the time that I will wear them...soon! In winter, I say, "Oh, I'll wear them when it gets warm!" In summer, I tell myself, "I'll save them for wearing at school!" For the past two years I've been lying to myself in this manner, because I will never ever ever be able to wear them.

Why, you ask? Because I am clumsy. And staining substances are magnetically attracted to whatever I happen to have on my body. If I wear a white shirt, you can be sure I'll get some permanent black marker on it. A black shirt? Bleach will find me. Colors? Butter, grease, grape juice....you name it, if it's un-removeable, it will appear. My closet is filled with pretty clothes I can't stand to part with, but I can't ever wear in public again.

I'm especially good at sitting on something staining, too, but not realizing it. When I get home at night and find I have a big black mark on the seat of my pants, I marvel at the number of people I'd passed during the day who couldn't pull me aside and say, "Hey, you got a big mark on your butt." (So if you happen to see that I do, please tell me! I promise not to say, "What are you doing looking at my butt????")

I stalk white pants wearers sometimes. Some people wear them effortlessly, going through an entire day in a public school without a single mark or blemish. By 8:07, I probably would have gotten dry erase marker on the left leg and coffee on the right. I should get rid of the pants, right??

Of course, I don't know this for sure, seeing as how I've never worn white pants. So, it's quite possible that I could be one of those white pants wearers, if I was very very careful. And if I carried a Tide-to-go pen with me. And a towel to sit on. And a force field to keep those little kids from hugging me.

Which is why I will probably keep them in my closet...at least until summer. When I wear them. They are definitely summer pants...and it's winter.

Little things I am thankful for

Everyone on Facebook is doing these "I'm thankful for..." posts with things that they are thankful for in their lives. You know, the usual, "my amazing family," "my wonderful children," "I have a job," "I can pay my electric bill," blah blah blah.

Of course, don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for that stuff, too. But, the more I start to think about it, all the little tiny things I am thankful for in my life are getting neglected when I talk about the big things I appreciate!!

So, today's post is dedicated to random items that I am extremely thankful for in my life, those poor things that are getting pushed aside for kids and husbands and the like.

•  Slipper socks
• They are fuzzy, warm, and perfect for my cold feet in November. I have 10 pairs of them. True, they take up too much room in my sock drawer, but they are less likely to be stolen by my kids than my slippers are (and I've not seen my slippers for weeks!)
• Butter Knives
• The black sheep of the knife family, they don't really cut very much, but are actually very useful!!! Not only for butter, but also to pry stuff open, clean out the top of sippy cups where the gunk builds up, slide in the trim around a door so my kids can't open it, and try to get that elusive Polly Pocket shoe that Story just has to have  that's slid right under the stove.
• Toilets
• Of course, many many people are thankful for indoor plumbing. The toilet is just awesome, though. Bad stuff goes in, and with the flick of a switch it goes away and never comes back. You don't have to even think about it anymore! How much better would life be if you could do that with bills or annoying people?
• Nick Jr.
• One of the best babysitters EVER!! Four years ago when it became a 24 hours channel, mothers everywhere were rejoicing. Finally, something to entertain my three year old in between bouts of puking at 3 AM......
•  Dog Treats
• What better way to get my dog outside when she's getting into bad stuff inside the house, or get her back inside when she's terrorizing the neighborhood?? "Abby!! Wanna treat???" always works!!!!!
• Sudoku
• Sometimes a girl just needs to unwind, and thinking aimlessly for 30 minutes about nothing but the numbers 1-9 makes everything better.
• Garage door openers
• Who invented these?? They are fabulous! More necessary than the TV remote control, even. When it's raining, snowing, or just plain cold, it's awesome to be able to push the button while staying in the nice, warm car...then running after the door opens all the way!! Now if they could just make remote control gas pumps...
• Irons
• Irons make it possible for me to procrastinate folding clothes. If I neglect folding the clothes in the laundry basket for, say, five days...they're pretty much unrecognizable by the time I do fold them. Thirty seconds with the iron, though, and voila! They look like shirts and pants again!
• Mr. Clean Magic Erasers
• Flat paint + crayons + curious little girls = wall disasters!! It's a little harder than "erasing," but they've saved my life (and my kids' lives!!) many times..........
• Tempurpedic Pillows
• A couple of Christmases ago, I got one, and ever since then, my pillow is my constant companion. I travel with it everywhere!! As long as I have it, I don't need blankets, or sheets....in fact, I could sleep in a corner!
• Clothespins
• They've got many uses...and you never think about how great they are until you need one and you can't find it.

And finally..............

• Law and Order
• How else would I spend my weekday afternoons and weekend afternoons?? Being productive? Please!

How???

Some kids go through the "why" stage, but Story's new favorite word is "how." This is just a sample of every single conversation we've had this week.

STORY: Mommy, why is the stove hot?

ME: Because electricity goes through it and makes it hot.

STORY: How does electricity get in there?

ME: We plug it into the wall and the electricity goes through the cord.

STORY: How does eek-tris-tee get in the wall?

ME: There are wires with electricity in them that run to our house.

STORY: How did the wires go to our house?

ME: Someone made them go to our house. They bring power to here.

STORY: How do they get the power?

ME: From a power plant.

STORY: How does the plant get power?

ME: They burn coal.

STORY: (slight pause) Mommy, how do you know?

ME: Because I'm smart.

STORY: How are you smart?

ME: I'm smart because I listened in school.

STORY: How did you do that?

ME: (no speaking, just "the look")

STORY: Oh.

So far this week, I've explained how leaves turn colors, how toilets work, why I do laundry, and how cars use gas. And each conversation ends exactly the same way- with my daughter questioning my intelligence, and me administering "the look".

There's a bright and shining future for Story in law enforcement, I'm sure. Or maybe torture.

Eight Things I learned about Alabama

On a recent trip to the Yellowhammer State (Alabama!) to attend my sister-in-law's wedding, I learned many things.

1. Alabama is too long.

• We had to drive from the top of the state to the very bottom. The kids asked us every hour or so what state we were in, and I'm pretty sure we said "Alabama" about 300 times. I mean, it's longer than California and Florida combined. It might be longer than the entire continent of South America from tip to top. Don't believe what those maps say- I lived it!

2. Alabama highways all look the same.

• I took pictures every hour from the passenger seat. Guess what? They all had a road surrounded by pine trees. Every picture is indistinguishable from the rest.

3. Ants are to be feared in Alabama.

• Where I live, you see an ant crawling on you, you flick it off. No big deal. In Alabama, I learned the hard way that when you see an ant crawling on you, you should scream, shake the appendage on which the ant has decided to crawl, and then drop to your knees and pray for mercy. If you don't, it will sting you. And then you will cry many times during the course of at least four days, maybe more (ask me in a couple more days).

4. Bug spray doesn't matter in Alabama.

• When planning to spend time in an outdoor venue, many people put on bug spray. I usually do this in the summer, but I made a special decision to apply bug spray due to the ant incident. I even applied it four times. It didn't seem to matter...I got bit anyways. Many, many times.

5. Sand fleas are direct descendants from Satan.

• It's possible that I was bitten over and over by these things I couldn't see called "sand fleas." At least that's what the photographer said was biting him when he asked me for bug spray. Little did I know I could have told him it didn't matter- apparently bug spray doesn't deter them. I came home with 19 bites on just one leg, not to mention the other leg, both arms, and my back. These bites, while small, itched worse and worse....and they continue to itch, but at least now they're taking turns.

6. Alabama bugs love me

• When totalling my bug bites, I stopped at 50. Ivy had 6. Story had 7. Rob had none. What's up with that??7

7. The beach in Alabama is white, but windy.

• I only went for a brief walk one day, and a 30 minute excursion with the kids to make sand castles the next. Of course, the kids abandoned the sand castle after about 3 minutes and 12 seconds and went on to make "sand angels" for the remainder of the time. The sand was pretty until it got in my eyes, my teeth, and some other places I don't talk about at parties.

8. The trip north isn't any better than the trip south

• Is it possible that it takes twice as long to leave Alabama as it did to get there? Maybe there's some kind of space-time-continuum that keeps you in the state longer when you try to leave.

I had a good time (and so did the bugs!), but I don't think I could move there....unless I got some kind of bug and sand repellent cat suit....and an airplane to make the trip north faster!

Tracee, Death to Cars

Sunday I went about 30 minutes north and played in a concert. When I was done, I put the girls in the truck, plugged in the DVD player, and turned the key. Nothing happened except the DVD player went off. I turned it again. Zilch.

I know nothing about cars and mechanical stuff, but I figured the battery was dead...so I went back in to the concert and asked a lady if anyone could help me jump my truck. A nice man with a crazy toddler who wasn't digging the concert to begin with said he would help me...as long as I had cables. Amazingly enough, I knew where they were!

I jumped in the bed of the truck and got my bag of cables out. I was wearing concert black of course, and when I got out of the bed, it was concert black with grey smudges. The choir director came out to help, too. We set up the cables, and when I turned the key...nothing happened. Still. So, I called AAA to send me a tow truck, and my husband to come and get us in his car.

My husband, of course, was busy yelling at the Bengals, but he and the tow truck guy arrived within minutes of each other. They hoisted my truck onto his truck, and we followed it down the highway. I snapped some cute pics of it on the way.

An hour later, I decided I needed to go to Walmart. I took my husband's car and Story. Story and I were having a rousing game of "Find the letter A on road signs" when the car started acting funny, losing speed. I down shifted, but it wasn't helping, and I could smell something weird. So, I pulled over to the side of the road amidst a cloud of smoke which I prayed was just road dust. Unfortunately it was coming out of the hood, so my hopes were dashed.

I told Story to hold on as I unbuckled, but in the excitement, I dropped my cell phone under the seat. You know, that one place you can't really reach from the front or the back? That's where it was. You can imagine me now...burning car, me hanging upside down from the drivers seat half out in the highway looking for my phone, and Story in the back saying, "Mommy, what's that smell?"

I finally grabbed the phone and popped the hood just as a couple pulled up in front of me. I ran around the side to get Story out as the guy said, "You okay??"

"Uh, no!" I yelled from the shoulder.

He said, "Well, we smelled you a couple miles back...is it a fire?"

I wasn't sure, so we popped the hood, and in a few short minutes realized that I'd burnt the clutch out in the car. I reached for my cell to call my husband (who is at home with no vehicle, remember), and then realized that I had no service. An old couple pulled up behind me and swore that they had service, but when I tried to use their phone, it wouldn't ring through.

So, old couple drove over the hill to call my husband, and young couple played with Story while I sat and silently freaked out. I mean, really, what are the odds I'd kill both cars in one day???

I made young couple leave (they were really tired, I could tell), and old couple came back to tell me they'd gotten a hold of my husband, but he said his car was tore up. (Uh, yeah! LOL)

Several other people stopped to check on me, but I shooed them on. I figured out that if I stood on the passenger seat, and held my phone on the roof of the car, that I could send texts. So I started sending them frantically. I found out that Rob and my neighbor were coming to get me. Then, a cop stopped and tried to talk me in to calling a wrecker, and Story asked him if he was taking us to jail.

Finally, my husband got there with my neighbor. He drove the car back while I rode with my neighbor.

The next morning, I called Enterprise to "come pick me up." I also called my mechanic and gave him the bad news: not only did he have to squeeze my truck in to his schedule, he also had to make room for Rob's car.

So, if anyone's interested in donating to the "Get Tracee back on the road fund," just put your number in the comments section and I'll give you a call and tell you where to send the check. =)