tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89905464898339870942024-03-05T15:57:36.645-08:00Not Dead YetHollyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15410951433962652780noreply@blogger.comBlogger76125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-10112926542428398002010-06-18T10:00:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:08:05.678-07:00The new bad wordThe new "bad" word in our house is..."seriously". <br />
<br />
Yes, I'm serious. It sounds ridiculous, but when you hear a nine year old say "seriously" every time you ask him to do anything, something obviously needs to be done. Thus, I have banned the word from our house. That is extremely hard for me b/c I say that word a lot. I don't use it in the same context as W. When it's coming from my mouth, it doesn't seem like blasphemy. By the tone in his voice, he might as well be saying "are you fucking kidding me?". The kid has hears like, well, whatever animal has good hearing. He could be upstairs playing Rockband, hear me say "seriously" and yell down the stairs "Momma!!". <br />
<br />
I love that kid, but sometimes I want to beat him. Seriously.Caseehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06553475792166890507noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-74390934756799600172010-06-08T09:00:00.000-07:002010-06-08T09:00:02.567-07:00Argh!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvzRfORXdVOPyJ79-OuSpz3TlexLK83l4n83T_iSiqLJmFJPWge30ny4b0xRTUPqVukdsYrXQHM3_cla0vEkNtmMZ0h2FJFgJYIdUE7-R7sbf04k1HhAHp5T5xMFZdg_MyjeJYhXJVIFJ/s1600/hondaapprove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlvzRfORXdVOPyJ79-OuSpz3TlexLK83l4n83T_iSiqLJmFJPWge30ny4b0xRTUPqVukdsYrXQHM3_cla0vEkNtmMZ0h2FJFgJYIdUE7-R7sbf04k1HhAHp5T5xMFZdg_MyjeJYhXJVIFJ/s320/hondaapprove.jpg" /></a></div>Remember the troubles I've been having with <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2008/10/homework-hell.html">The Girl</a>, <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2010/02/i-just-dont-understand.html">her math grade</a> and <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2010/04/wtf.html">her math teacher</a>? Well guess what? School ends in 2 days and I still don't know what her math grade is. Her teacher just started updating grades last night. From March. That's right, he still hadn't input any of the scores - or, in many cases, the assignments - since March. I have no idea where my child is in that class. Has she turned in all her assingments? Is she scoring well on tests? Does she understand the work or need a tutor? I couldn't tell you. And what's worse? Neither can her teacher.<br />
<br />
I've met with him and the principal several times over the last few months, called him almost daily and sent him countless emails. Every time I spoke with him he assured me we wouldn't come to the end of the year without me knowing where my child stands. And yet here we are at the end of the year and I still don't know. <br />
<br />
I am not unaware of my child's faults. When it comes to completing her homework, they are legion. The D she had at semester time is 100% her fault. But I put full blame on her teacher for my not knowing about it until it was too late to do anything to correct the problem. The same with this final grade. Whatever it is, there will be no way I can correct anything now.<br />
<br />
On Monday I sent him an email asking for an update and reminding him that he assured me I wouldn't be caught flat-footed the last week of school. His response?<br />
<br />
<br />
<blockquote><span style="color: blue; font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Last week, I returned the previous week's quizzes, and The Girl's was the only one without a name. After she wrote her name on her quiz, that score was entered. It was a C or something like that. The remainder go in today and I will submit final grades this evening.</span></blockquote><br />
That's it. That's all he had to say about it. She's hovering on the brink of FAILING ALGEBRA and his only response is "it was a C or something"?<br />
<br />
I wrote a formal letter of complaint and sent it to the school board president and the superintendent. I also included a complaint about the principal, because she's been NO HELP whatsoever. I just found out that she's leaving after this year, however, so I don't figure my letter is going to matter much. But still..<br />
<br />
I honestly don't understand how I'm the only parent upset by not knowing what my kid's grade is. And what about those kids who are really struggling? Are they going to find out the last day of school that they failed math? Do those parents even care?<br />
<br />
I also don't understand how this teacher can get away with not doing his job. Because part of his job is grading assignments and working with parents, right? I'm just sick over the whole thing. Especially since there's a very real possibility <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2010/05/summertime-blues.html">The Girl won't have a B on her final report card</a> and will end up grounded for the whole summer. <br />
<br />
I'll tell you, though, I've never been so happy to see the end of a school year in my life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-9324680809734459352010-05-26T11:00:00.000-07:002010-05-26T11:00:00.655-07:00Summertime BluesIt's no secret that we've been battling with The Girl <strike>her whole life</strike> all year about turning in her homework and classwork. <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2008/10/homework-hell.html">I</a> <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2008/12/finally-progress.html">complain</a> <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2010/04/wtf.html">about it</a> <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2010/02/i-just-dont-understand.html">often enough</a>. The thing is, she's got a stubborn streak a mile wide, and she isn't the type of kid who gets grounded and thinks, "I need to fix this so I can get ungrounded." She's the type who says, "I'm already grounded anyway so what does it matter?".<br />
<br />
That's the biggest source of my frustration with her. Because how do you punish a kid if she <i>doesn't care</i> about about being punished? I've tried the incentive program - rewarding her for good behavior - and that didn't work. I've tried punishing her by taking away things - most recently <i>her whole life</i> - and that doesn't work. So...what now?<br />
<br />
Plus, I have to be consistent and follow through. One of the worst things I think you can do as a parent is not follow through. If you threaten punishment, and they don't keep up their end of it, you stand by that. It may not have the impact on The Girl that I want it to (punishments, I mean) but at least she always knows I'm serious when I tell her <b>X</b> is going to happen if she continues doing <b>Y</b>.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKKlmNpZp0jv6g1NI2s9s8KUXAsINxxmgzPszfjUaMe6wfjatjLwsyBU9tlAGo3MS10eCmTohsXJpoRWW3QguhaKHlDX6vEkYIt5vtBPLARRpCPdK5wDI_OSGehe2M6e-9fCU-OPiXaji/s1600/funny-pictures-kitten-is-grounded-again.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsKKlmNpZp0jv6g1NI2s9s8KUXAsINxxmgzPszfjUaMe6wfjatjLwsyBU9tlAGo3MS10eCmTohsXJpoRWW3QguhaKHlDX6vEkYIt5vtBPLARRpCPdK5wDI_OSGehe2M6e-9fCU-OPiXaji/s320/funny-pictures-kitten-is-grounded-again.jpg" /></a>During her last round of punishments - when she came home with a D on her report card because she was missing 5 assignments - I told her if she missed one more assignment during the rest of the school year, she'd be grounded for the whole summer. And I meant it.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, when she's grounded, so am I. We've cut out camping/hiking trips, skipped the beach and the pool and even refused to go to barbecues and movies, all because TG is grounded. What's my summer going to be like if TG is grounded? They aren't going to their dad's until the last week of July or the first week of August (that's a post for another day) and I have a ton of things I want to do with them. I planned to get season passes to the local water park so we could spend our days there. I want to do trips the beach, day hikes and long camping trips. None of that is going to happen if TG is grounded. (Unless I hire a babysitter to stay with her, and don't think I'm not seriously considering it).<br />
<br />
But then we come back to that "I'm already grounded so why does it matter" mentality that TG has. Apparently she'd forgotten the part about missing another assignment and being grounded for the whole summer. When I reminded her - after she missed yet another assignment - she completely freaked out. "No! Mom, summer is supposed to be a fresh start. We wipe the slate clean and start all over again! This isn't right. it isn't fair" blah blah blah. I have no sympathy for her. She knew the deal and she didn't care. I have a ton of sympathy for <i>myself</i>, because <i>I</i> didn't do anything wrong but my summer is still going to suck. But this isn't about me<strike> much</strike>. <br />
<br />
Anyway, two hours, many tears and much drama later, we came to an agreement. According to the online system TG still has a D in math. That isn't a totally fair assessment, because her teacher still hasn't updated (even after a meeting and two phone calls with the principal) his gradebook, but still. So MM and I agreed that if she brings her grade up to a B, and agrees to do one major project around the house (something she wouldn't normally do - like painting) she wouldn't be grounded for the entire summer. If she brings it up to an A, she won't be grounded and she won't have to do a project. So, B and a project or A and no project.<br />
<br />
I'm ok with this because she's going to have to work really hard to make that happen. Her test/assignment scores are going to have to be really high and she's going to have to do extra-credit work to make it happen. If she works that hard, I'm fine with rewarding her. It not, I guess my summer is going to suck wind.<br />
<br />
So now that I got all that cleared up, I have some hope for the summer. Or I did. Until yesterday.When<br />
I got a call from Little Man's teacher.<br />
<br />
Like two months ago she sent home a packet with information about a huge State report they had to complete for social studies. She sent them home early so they'd have plenty of time to complete them. Little Man chose South Dakota as his state (which I kind of thought was a little like cheating since he was born there, but whatever) and seemed excited to work on it. Although we've had some issues with him not doing his homework in the past. for the most part he's a good kid and I don't worry about him too much. So when he told me his teacher was giving him time in class to do his report and that he was almost finished with it I took him at his word.<br />
<br />
My bad.<br />
<br />
His teacher said if he doesn't turn this project in and get a decent grade he'll end up with a C in social studies. If he brings home a C he'll be grounded for the entire summer.<br />
<br />
I'm telling you, if it's not one it's the other. Unless it's both of them.<br />
<br />
It might not be summer yet, but I already have the Blues.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-84962666865986784482010-05-24T09:00:00.000-07:002010-05-24T09:00:03.371-07:00Shouldn't He Have Outgrown That?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmz38ony89AKAjQA2m-5f7k6seFCJPeBPNwgemhJdIgdzupU_UQtVF9NUo8YwEX_oLxs8B02jKLYhmDjS-jVuS0_UkF2IsvszwMraB4Otk0DsKCVeL9kT33qNDR8eK0IgeziV126YLx53/s1600/crying-1461.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmz38ony89AKAjQA2m-5f7k6seFCJPeBPNwgemhJdIgdzupU_UQtVF9NUo8YwEX_oLxs8B02jKLYhmDjS-jVuS0_UkF2IsvszwMraB4Otk0DsKCVeL9kT33qNDR8eK0IgeziV126YLx53/s320/crying-1461.gif" /></a></div>Remember <a href="http://www.momsnotdeadyet.com/2008/08/i-really-just-dont-understand.html">this</a>? Well, guess what? He did it again. Only now he's 11. <br />
<br />
He spent hours crying last night from his bed. He didn't come into my room to get me and when I went to him he wouldn't tell me what was wrong, just kept crying. I wanted to beat him before all was said and done. And I still don't know what his problem was.<br />
<br />
WTF is that about? <br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">*image credit <a href="http://juniorslayouts.com/graphics/search/3/emo.htm">here</a></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-88055089561446375872010-05-11T14:00:00.000-07:002010-05-11T14:17:23.166-07:00My Little RunawayThe Girl and I have been at odds the last few weeks over - what else - her not doing her homework assignments. Things finally came to a head last week when we got her midterm grades and she still has a D in math.<br />
<br />
We had a huge blow up and then a long talk and I thought we'd cleared things up. Apparently not, however, because yesterday I found this note in her backpack. (Sorry the image is a little off..I need to adjust my scanner)<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit13goJwh7BxhGNPdaPH_UwbnOMLPOA_qMt07cq2E5zikj5KT5JmuZCZD7H4MBCw9ZXsCVC9AMFj2Iq5B2F34lY2unOR66OY-Ad0CmfLZxGGUsWasU4bDldZOrp12Y5VHLgWlHELonolpu/s1600/Runaway+clear.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit13goJwh7BxhGNPdaPH_UwbnOMLPOA_qMt07cq2E5zikj5KT5JmuZCZD7H4MBCw9ZXsCVC9AMFj2Iq5B2F34lY2unOR66OY-Ad0CmfLZxGGUsWasU4bDldZOrp12Y5VHLgWlHELonolpu/s400/Runaway+clear.JPG" width="236" /></a></div>I have to give the girl credit for wanting to be prepared. She's going to wait until she's older and has a car, and she needs a brush for her own comfort. As a mom, I have to say I'm darn proud that she included "good shoes" and "toothpaste/brush" on her list. <br />
<br />
<object width="500" height="405"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/MGlUnzaFvGU&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube-nocookie.com/v/MGlUnzaFvGU&hl=en_US&fs=1&color1=0x234900&color2=0x4e9e00&border=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="500" height="405"></embed></object>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-88800317503229544982010-04-15T11:00:00.000-07:002010-04-15T11:00:00.715-07:00The Little Parent<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFwd7Y31mw2weE4Z3Q_tKZ0qF6e6IhgZlSslnsJA6swqAiaVrKSNJke83IFC1FLL1PvFmuy4YulnF9v8Gq_M7etiODAgUxk6_Rm4nv9SCYQgQdMr-b9UbL47caPRsZK8vshWZnjhXMuZ3/s1600/funny-pictures-kitten-has-an-over-protective-brother.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilFwd7Y31mw2weE4Z3Q_tKZ0qF6e6IhgZlSslnsJA6swqAiaVrKSNJke83IFC1FLL1PvFmuy4YulnF9v8Gq_M7etiODAgUxk6_Rm4nv9SCYQgQdMr-b9UbL47caPRsZK8vshWZnjhXMuZ3/s320/funny-pictures-kitten-has-an-over-protective-brother.jpg" /></a></div>Every morning my SIL drops her daughter off at our house on her way to work. She has to be to work at 7 but the bus doesn't come until 8:15. Since they (the niece and LM) go to the same school, it makes sense for her to come here for an hour every morning, then walk to the bus stop with LM.<br />
<br />
LM and the 7yo have a cute relationship. He acts more like her big brother than her cousin. He teases her about boyfriends and scolds her when she misbehaves. She defers to him, asking his permission for things and doing what he tells her. It's cute. <br />
<br />
Yesterday morning they were at the breakfast table together and I overheard the following. It totally cracked me up. <br />
<br />
7yo: Can I please be excused? (this said to LM, not me)<br />
<br />
LM: Take one more bite. And not a little one either!<br />
<br />
7yo: I just did!<br />
<br />
LM: Take another one.<br />
<br />
7yo: Fine!<br />
<br />
LM: Hey, don't eat like a pig!<br />
<br />
7yo: Sorry.<br />
<br />
LM: Alright, you can be excused now.<br />
<br />
7yo: Thanks!<br />
<br />
LM: Thank you for listening to me. What's the one rule I have? Respect your..<br />
<br />
7yo: You?<br />
<br />
LM: your elders. <br />
<br />
7yo: Oh, right. Ok.<br />
<br />
They leave the table and Little Man heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Halfway down the hallway she catches up with him. <br />
<br />
LM: Go clear your bowl!<br />
<br />
7yo: *giggles* Oh, sorry.<br />
<br />
Then she marched back to the table, cleared it and, at his direction, went and brushed her teeth. They kill me! <br />
<br />
He'd be such a good big brother!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-27282446556458544432010-04-07T12:00:00.000-07:002010-04-07T12:00:00.789-07:00WTF?<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-1nSDUmKvQbiAhGKh2JNgBVqkXmyUHwo69Kn9TY3osFtTZXLVaWNoyYvXIDzxkKyuXG7OGNIwQ9u8hxVg6Y7YFvMU75X3meU8krURDfaMSw7qaPgiltg4Pf9IiP5dYwBpEh050szjqXo/s1600/funny-pictures-black-cat-dress-will-kill-you.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN-1nSDUmKvQbiAhGKh2JNgBVqkXmyUHwo69Kn9TY3osFtTZXLVaWNoyYvXIDzxkKyuXG7OGNIwQ9u8hxVg6Y7YFvMU75X3meU8krURDfaMSw7qaPgiltg4Pf9IiP5dYwBpEh050szjqXo/s320/funny-pictures-black-cat-dress-will-kill-you.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457466957541817330" border="0" /></a><br />We all know <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2008/10/homework-hell.html">The Girl has homework issues</a>. We've been battling them for years and years. I don't imagine we're going to win the war anytime soon, either.<br /><br />When she was getting ready to enter middle school, MM and I had major concerns about sending her to our public school. It doesn't have a very good reputation. We have 6 elementary schools in our town, and every single one of them dumps into the middle school. It's overcrowded and has been known to have problems with drugs and alcohol, not to mention delinquent behavior from its students. With TG's history we weren't sure it would be a good fit.<br /><br />We talked about sending her to the local Christian school, but she begged us to let her try the public school first. All of her friends were going to the public school and they had more extracurricular activities for her to try. Those arguments didn't sway me, but we agreed to let her try it out after learning about their online grade system, ZAP program and guidance counselors.<br /><br />ZAP = Zeros Aren't Permitted. If a child has a missing assignment the teacher fills out a ZAP form and the parents get an automated call along with a letter telling us there's a missing assignment. The child then has lunch detention until the assignment is completed and turned in. Most teachers take points away for every day the assignment isn't turned in.<br /><br />Aside: <span style="color: rgb(51, 102, 255);">Personally I think the ZAP program is a joke. I think if a child doesn't turn in an assignment they should get a zero for it. What's the incentive to get homework done and turned in if they don't get a zero? </span>:End<br /><br />So far the system has been working. I check TG's grades online once a week and if she has any missing assignments we take appropriate action (ie, make her life hell). My only problem? Well, ok, my only two problems? 1) TG still misses and assignments and 2) her math teacher.<br /><br />I don't know if her Algebra teacher has problems with technology or what, but he never updates the online website. If he doesn't log missing assignments in to the computer, it doesn't trigger the ZAP program and I don't get notified, either via website, phone call or mailed letter. Which means I have no way of knowing if she's turning her assignments in. Which is bad!<br /><br />That just happened again today. It's the end of the semester and time for report cards to come out. We have parent teacher conferences on Friday and today her Algebra teacher finally finished entering all the grades online. Guess how many assignments TG is missing? Go ahead, guess.<br /><br />Five. 5. FIVE.<br /><br />WTF????<br /><br />He hadn't updated the site since January, so all these missing assignments are from February.<br /><br />WTF????<br /><br />She's had 5 missing assignments in his class, which brought her grade from an <span style="font-weight: bold;">A-</span> down to a <span style="font-weight: bold;">D</span>! and I didn't hear a word about it. MY CHILD HAS A <span style="font-weight: bold;">D</span> IN MATH AND I DIDN'T FIND OUT UNTIL TODAY.<br /><br />WTF????<br /><br />I'm not saying that TG not turning her assignments in is the teacher's fault, but my not knowing about it is. If I don't know, how can I correct the problem if I don't know about it? I believe the teacher has a responsibility to let me know what's going on with my child. Right?<br /><br />And you know what a <span style="font-weight: bold;">D</span> on TG's report card means? <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2010/02/i-just-dont-understand.html">No car</a>! We had also worked out a deal regarding a trip to Knott's Berry Farm and my old e-reader (which TG desperately wants) and those are both off the table, too. She'll be lucky if she survives the next week. Oh, and the best part? She has straight A's in all her other classes. My kids has 5 <span style="font-weight: bold;">A</span>'s and a<span style="font-weight: bold;"> D</span>.<br /><br />WTF??<br /><br />While I was in the midst of writing this I got a phone call from Little Man's language arts teacher. Apparently he's gotten into the habit of not turning in assignments as well. His teacher said he was supposed to turn in a book report before spring break (our spring break was last week) and she's given him days since then to turn it in and he hasn't. He'll now be getting a zero on it. It's a 30 point assignment. She also said at least once a week he doesn't turn in his homework.<br /><br />So, who's going to come visit me in jail? It's either that or the funny farm.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-76140714093618502202010-02-25T16:00:00.000-08:002010-02-25T16:10:16.175-08:00I Just Don't UnderstandHow can a child go from this:<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuRr8G3NlxQrdK7Zf_yx-D0mntsPdFMF-zHavyitCspcciCq2WCkaTIwc85pm15wE0tG4jrE8pFvAM5VtFO_8EOEEut50zwnfBCOPU0KrpkkByg_BlcNOd1kQs8Vhx_dxGrM4qq876B0f/s1600-h/TG's+grades+1.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 55px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuRr8G3NlxQrdK7Zf_yx-D0mntsPdFMF-zHavyitCspcciCq2WCkaTIwc85pm15wE0tG4jrE8pFvAM5VtFO_8EOEEut50zwnfBCOPU0KrpkkByg_BlcNOd1kQs8Vhx_dxGrM4qq876B0f/s400/TG's+grades+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442320825876319298" border="0" /></a><br /><br />to this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOkp7bbErKpWy_t35a0RO3nAWXM7QDDLVzNBYtx2yiAnKS8e8vWBGau6aN-RI74ONI24FNltcJ6x2lxE3R47c4fulChfTr-_ScA_6ZX3Hcgq_H7TsQS9-xKDrjyPnGAQXB11MU-a7N35M/s1600-h/TG's+grades+3.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 61px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaOkp7bbErKpWy_t35a0RO3nAWXM7QDDLVzNBYtx2yiAnKS8e8vWBGau6aN-RI74ONI24FNltcJ6x2lxE3R47c4fulChfTr-_ScA_6ZX3Hcgq_H7TsQS9-xKDrjyPnGAQXB11MU-a7N35M/s400/TG's+grades+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5442321296204157618" border="0" /></a><br /><br />in less than a month? And this is AFTER she turned in late assignments. The grades were a lot worse two days ago. The numbers in red are missing assignments, btw. Every time I see that D I want to puke. Ugh.<br /><br />I'm trying to remember why it's a bad idea to beat your children....<br /><br />As punishment, she's grounded for 5 weeks. One for every missing assignment. She has until tomorrow to make up the assignments she's already missing or I'm going to start taking away her extracurricular activities. First we're taking away sign language. If she still hasn't turned in all missing assignments by Monday we're also taking away tennis. If she doesn't have all missing assignments turned in by Friday of next week we're taking away all extracurricular activities <span style="font-style: italic;">for the rest of the year</span>.<br /><br />At the beginning of the last semester we started working on the rewards program. For every week TG went without missing an assignment she would get a new book (trust me, this is huge for her. She reads as much as I do.). Since she's missing 5 assignments she gets no new books for 5 weeks (she's all kinds of tore up over that). Once she's completed her 5 weeks of punishment we'll talk about going back to a rewards system.<br /><br />During this 5 weeks of punishment, for every assignment that doesn't get turned in (or gets turned in late), she'll be grounded an additional 2 weeks. Normally her punishments don't overlap like this, but I'm making an exception because I think she needs to understand how serious this is.<br /><br />She also has to tread very, very carefully with MM. You see, MM put TG on the "B or Better" program. Basically, beginning this year - 7th grade - if TG keeps her grades at B or Better, MM will buy her a car when she gets her license. He will also pay her insurance as long as she maintains B's or better, and will do all maintenance on her car (seems like there's something else he offered to do, but I can't remember what now). This is totally between them..I have nothing to do with it.<br /><br />The only reason she hasn't lost the car yet is because we said B or Better on her report card. Since report cards don't come out for several weeks, she's just barely skimming under the wire.<br /><br />Other than the above, I honestly don't know what to do with her. This is <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2008/10/homework-hell.html">not a new issue</a>. We've been fighting with her about missing work <span style="font-style: italic;">since kindergarten</span>. There isn't much I haven't tried at this point.<br /><br />Why can't I just have easy children? All I want in life is a kid who does her homework on time without being asked. It's not like I'm asking for the moon here.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-70247811136248176932010-02-23T09:00:00.000-08:002010-02-23T09:32:29.736-08:00Star Wars, MM-Style.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITXi2PEOkwNFe4xU8Cpc9h-az637RRXOESOVLkOvuaoYN9okBdHITlTxJGizH00vecmXWqwgCe1JpM6sra2uRogC6p7fh_O8FXuq2GV4b52xJvcCsOCRPYJfYdsAF5r9eEdUyEonSroGh/s1600-h/funny-pictures-cat-invented-dark-side.jpg"><img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhITXi2PEOkwNFe4xU8Cpc9h-az637RRXOESOVLkOvuaoYN9okBdHITlTxJGizH00vecmXWqwgCe1JpM6sra2uRogC6p7fh_O8FXuq2GV4b52xJvcCsOCRPYJfYdsAF5r9eEdUyEonSroGh/s320/funny-pictures-cat-invented-dark-side.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5440909986233048130" border="0" /></a><br />For whatever reason, one of MM's favorite insults for the kids is "Dopey Wan Knobe". I don't know where he got it from (he probably made it up..he does that a lot) but he'll often call Little Man or The Girl that. Heck, he's even thrown it at me a few times.<br /><br />The other night we were at the table and somehow the expression was bought up. I'm thinking because MM called one of us that. From there he starts trying to think up insults from the other characters.<br /><br />MM: What's one for Yoda? Yo-<span style="font-style: italic;">duh</span>? heh No wait, Yo-Dummy.<br />LM: What about Luke Skywalker?<br />MM: eh, there's only two of you, so I only need two names. Dopey Wan and Yo-Dummy.<br />TG: What about Anakin?<br />MM: Wait, I should be Yoda, so no insulting name for him.<br />Me: No, I should. I'm the wise one.<br />TG: Ha!<br />MM: You should be Anakin because you turn evil once a month<br />*Me, TG and MM laugh, LM looks confused*<br />MM: The best part about that is only me, you and TG get it.<br />LM: Get what? Mom's evil all the time, not just once a month.<br /><br />Jerks.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-24350462022146954772010-02-21T19:35:00.000-08:002010-02-21T19:39:16.719-08:00More Kid LogicLittle Man has a Revolutionary War project due this week. He has to create a shoebox time caspule with items from the Revolutionary War. Not only things war related, but things that might have been found in homes then, or recipes people might have used. Things like that.<br /><br />He got this assignment the week he went back to school after Christmas break. I think it was like January 6th or 7th. It is now February 21st. That's a long ass time to work on a project. Can you guess how much he's gotten done? He found the shoebox. Yep, that's it. The project is due on Friday and the only thing he's gotten done is found the freaking shoebox.<br /><br />MM and I have been trying to help him with it for the last month or so, but he keeps dragging his feet. We finally told him last night that it has to be finished today or else...well, just or else. (Honestly, I can't remember all the things we've threatened him with)<br /><br />At 9:30 this morning LM started "working" on his project. "Working" is a very subjective term, however. What I consider "working" and what he considers "working" are apparently two entirely different things. Mostly his version of "working" is playing games on the computer and whining because he "can't find anything" to put in his shoebox. To say I'm frustrated is an understatement.<br /><br />About an hour ago we told him he had an hour to finish his project. Since he's been "working" on it for more than 8 hours now, you'd think that would be possible. But no..he hasn't finished one thing for it yet.<br /><br />He keeps finding ways to procrastinate. Just a few minutes ago he starts asking MM what some speck on the wall is from and MM says, "Quit screwing around and work on your project!". A few minutes later I look over and LM is putting tape over his mouth. I said, "What are you doing??" and he replied, "I'm putting tape on my mouth so I can't screw around anymore."<br /><br />(Our new threat is he'll be grounded one day for every hour it takes him to complete this project [above and beyond the 8.5 he's already had, of course]. I foresee him being ground a long, long time..)Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-11442740242271044132010-02-02T06:00:00.000-08:002014-05-01T14:25:46.397-07:00Homework War<br />
I've always felt bad for Holly for the Homework Hell she's gone through, but
in a removed sort of way. Kind of like "Thank God that's not my kid".
I never thought she was joking about what she went through with TG, but I also
didn't think it could be that bad. Holly is a strict parent (as I've said
numerous times) and she can't get her kid to do her homework? It just didn't
seem likely. Now I know that not only was every word she ever said about it
true, but that she was actually UNDER exaggerating. Since seeing the error of
my ways, I've offered her everything (including my first AND second born) to
take W off my hands during the school year. I think W would listen to her and
come back home ready for the homework awaiting him in fifth grade. For some
reason, she's not going for it. I would even offer to take my second born off
the table, which should clinch the deal.<br />
<br />
This is the first year that PASS is available to the parent. I'm able to
check W's grades every week. I know every parent thinks their kid is smart, but
W is super smart. Like he doesn't even have to try. He just has that thing that
smart people have. I don't know how or why, but he has it. So why does he have
a D in math and a F in reading? WHY?????<br />
<br />
He's a lazy little bugger, that's why. I never factored that into the smart
thing. You can be as smart as Albert-freaking-Einstein, but that doesn't mean
that you'll get good grades. You have to actually do your work. YOU HAVE TO
TRY. You have to tell the truth. So when your mom and dad ask you if you have
homework, don't say NO. Honestly, the kid just lies to our faces. I don't know
if he's actually lying b/c he's too lazy to do the damn work or if he's
forgotten he even has it. At first I was Wing to give him the benefit of the
doubt, but that time has passed.<br />
<br />
A week and a half ago, a notice was sent home to all parents. They wouldn't
accept work any later than five days after it was due. Anything late
automatically gets a grade lower. Parents have lots of stuff to sign, etc. I
didn't like the five day thing, which I now realize is ridiculous. My kid is
smart so why the hell isn't his homework on time? Oh, b/c he forgets it or doesn't
try. Or back to #1: Laziness.<br />
<br />
Last Thursday he called me when he got home from school to ask if he could
play [insert electronic device here]. I asked him if he had homework. He said
yes, he had math. I asked if he had reading. He said no. I told him to do what
he could on the math (he said he needed help) and I would go over the rest of
it when I got home. After I got home, we did our usual dinner routine where he
casually mentions that he has a book report due Friday. THE NEXT DAY. He has to
write a report on a biography. But the book he wanted was checked out by some
other girl and she was going to do the report on that person so it was okay. I
was like huh???? It was all convoluted and resulted in him being grounded for
two days from his laptop. After he cried (he's one of those criers that looks
absolutely devastated while crying) and just blatantly refused to do the
report, Bill ran him over to the library. This all happened about 6:30pm.<br />
<br />
While they were at the library, I graded his math homework (they are working
on division). It's little gems like this that remind me why I love this kid so
damn much.<br />
<br />
<b>Question: Mr. Brooks bought a box of 66 acorns to class. Can he give 3
acorns to each of the 23 students in his class? How? Why or why not?</b><br />
<br />
<b>W's answer: No He can't if you divide it you will get it.</b><br />
<br />
This is by far my favorite of all of his answers.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Question: Explain how you can find the quotient of 84 divided by 4.</b><br />
<br />
<b>W's answer: If you divide right you will get it right. I'm sure of it.</b><br />
<br />
After we finished his math, he started reading the biography he got. He
didn't get done with his report until about 9:30. He usually goes to bed at 8,
so this was significantly later. Can you guess what happened on Friday?<br />
<br />
HE FORGOT HIS FOLDER.Caseehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06553475792166890507noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-89919085485332637392010-01-25T13:00:00.000-08:002014-04-30T12:09:29.819-07:00Casee vs. Holly: It's onFor those of you that know <a href="http://cranberrytarts.blogspot.com/">Holly</a>, you know that she is an extremely strict parent. That's something I've always admired about her. When I told her that W was getting a laptop for Christmas it was one of those things. You know, where she says "I can't believe it, but I'm not saying anything else" and I just say "uh-huh". I knew what her reaction was going to be and if any person besides her said what she said, I would have told them to stick it.<br />
<br />
Today one of those "Holly suggested you become friends with Casee" FB emails. Except in this case "Casee" was an eleven year old kid. Which I think is absurd. W has asked to have his own Facebook account and I just laughed. And promptly told him it wasn't going to happen. Thankfully it is one thing that Bill and I are in agreement on. The following discussion ensued via email.<br />
<blockquote>
from Holly <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />to Casee <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />date Mon, Jan 25, 2010 at 12:41 PM<br />subject Re: Someone suggested you add a friend on Facebook...<br /><br />Cripes. Bc that make sense. I know a lot of TG's friends have Facebook and even Myspace pages. And cell phones and laptops. It's sad.<br /><br /><br />from Casee <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />to Holly <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />date Mon, Jan 25, 2010 at 1:24 PM<br />subject Re: Someone suggested you add a friend on Facebook...<br /><br />W has a laptop. He asked for a Facebook account and I just laughed in his face.<br /><br />from Holly <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />to Casee <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />date Mon, Jan 25, 2010 at 1:25 PM<br />subject Re: Someone suggested you add a friend on Facebook...<br /><br />I know he does. I still can't believe you bought him one.<br /><br />I bet W will have a Facebook account before TG. And I bet it will be within the next year. <br /><br />from Casee <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />to Holly <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />Mon, Jan 25, 2010 at 1:26 PM<br />subject Re: Someone suggested you add a friend on Facebook...<br /><br />I'll take that bet.<br /><br />from Holly <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />to Casee <xxxxxxxxxx gmail.com=""><br />date Mon, Jan 25, 2010 at 1:30 PM<br />subject Re: Someone suggested you add a friend on Facebook...<br /><br />Good. </xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></xxxxxxxxxx></blockquote>
<br />
<br />
This post is marking the occasion. I say that by 1/25/11 TG will have a FB account and W won't. Holly says that W will have a FB before TG.<br />
<br />
Now for the stakes. We need ideas. Make it good too, b/c I know I'm going to win.Caseehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06553475792166890507noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-86258976584694331122009-11-17T12:00:00.000-08:002009-11-17T12:03:33.514-08:00Dinner at our House: Kid Logic<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGt-2ry_zZqFALtsTDpDdz9YPUCJ8_u-WI99uHSiHLNj6NKje8cVpWgAtHFq8pk16hdRQwqxHsyEv5Yr1_8vJ7EwWDU2FYJL1i1GNEd7OC7y8tRxR4HUgw3sFWMpUH7FLtymMvdnaCXksT/s1600/family-dinner-table_~15477-07dg.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGt-2ry_zZqFALtsTDpDdz9YPUCJ8_u-WI99uHSiHLNj6NKje8cVpWgAtHFq8pk16hdRQwqxHsyEv5Yr1_8vJ7EwWDU2FYJL1i1GNEd7OC7y8tRxR4HUgw3sFWMpUH7FLtymMvdnaCXksT/s320/family-dinner-table_~15477-07dg.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405164722493878514" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="http://livinginthehouseoftestosterone.blogspot.com/">Lori</a> does this thing on her blog called "<a href="http://livinginthehouseoftestosterone.blogspot.com/search/label/Around%20the%20Dinner%20Table">Around the Dinner Table</a>". I've <s>swiped</s> <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2009/01/dinner-at-our-house.html">borrowed the idea</a> from her before, and I'm going to do so again.<br /><br />Dinnertime is probably our best time together as a family. With sports and after school programs and work and homework and, well, life, we don't get to sit down and talk as a family much during the day. Dinner is really the best time for us to interact as a family. It's also the best time for us to get a little out of control with each other. Like Lori and her family, our conversations often veer off into crazy places.<br /><br />The other night we were at the table and somehow <a href="http://blueberrycoffeecake.blogspot.com/">Daphne</a> came up. I can't remember exactly how, but one of the kids mentioned her. For those of you who don't know, Daphne recently moved to Australia. This has been a sore point for me because while I love her and want her to be happy, I selfishly want her to be happy somewhere much closer to me.<br /><br />Anyway, the following conversation ensued:<br /><br /><blockquote>Me: Daphne went bye bye - <span style="font-style: italic;">said with a sad face</span><br />LM: What? She's not on Earth anymore?<br />Me: She's on the other side of it<br />MM: Her toilet flushes to the right now<br />TG: I'm sure ours could if we wanted it to<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">MM and I share a look</span><br />MM: It doesn't work that way TG - <span style="font-style: italic;">he starts to explain why it wouldn't work when LM pipes up..</span><br />LM: She reads from right to left now<br />Me: What?<br />MM: What?<br />TG: Oh, that makes sense</blockquote><br />The Girl doesn't understand the concept of the toilet flushing the other way, but it makes sense that Daphne now reads from right to left? MM and I could only laugh.<br /><br />A few days later we were talking about TG being responsible for us when we get old. We were saying she needs to get good grades now so she can get into a good college and eventually get a good job. This is important since she'll be taking care of us in our old age. Naturally from there MM took it to the next level and started talking about her changing his diapers.<br /><br /><blockquote>TG: Heck no I'm not. That's what retirement homes are for.<br />MM: I'm not going into a retirement home! People die in there!<br />LM: Duh. That's why they're called retirement homes..you retire from life.</blockquote><br /><br />Well...he does kind of have a point.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-12879711427707271052009-11-14T12:00:00.000-08:002009-11-14T12:00:01.016-08:00Letters on the White Board<span style="font-style: italic;">I think it's time to resurrect this blog. I don't know why we let it fall to the wayside, but I'm going to rectify that now. Aren't you just the lucky ones?</span><br />___________________<br /><br />A couple months ago I purchased a whiteboard for our refrigerator. We had one when I was growing up and it was really convenient for jotting down reminders or leaving notes. Now that the kids are getting older having the white board will - hopefully - make my life easier.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE-b41rYv5VDF1cddf3ZZK9jr_TmxVtuavDTMGXnVl5JZ5oVcE_eA6MoCzrnzaImn98LaFXG-KZutAYDEUTu9LBv6-LyQ0fo8SGGcPIcz0GtOToB576V95Yq01YVvFN1STYqPnahG3xNi/s1600-h/writing.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 220px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcE-b41rYv5VDF1cddf3ZZK9jr_TmxVtuavDTMGXnVl5JZ5oVcE_eA6MoCzrnzaImn98LaFXG-KZutAYDEUTu9LBv6-LyQ0fo8SGGcPIcz0GtOToB576V95Yq01YVvFN1STYqPnahG3xNi/s320/writing.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5404025772164636354" border="0" /></a>Since I picked it up, the whiteboard has really come in handy. Already we have phone messages/numbers written on it, a schedule for when the dogs were fed, notes about chores the kids need to complete when they get home from school, reminders about upcoming events and so on and so forth. Not only do I use it for the above mentioned things - and many others - but so do the kids.<br /><br />Little Man especially uses it. Most nights before bed he makes his lunch for school the next day, including putting a water bottle in the freezer so he'll have cold water all day. Then he'll write a note on the whiteboard to remind himself not to forget it.<br /><br />A couple weeks ago, The Girl decided it would be funny if she started taking his water bottle out of the freezer since she leaves before he does. I didn't realize she'd started doing this until I found this note on the board one night before I went to bed:<br /><br /><blockquote>TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, <span style="font-weight: bold;">do not</span> take it!</blockquote><br /><br />I kind of laughed, because it's a little funny that she's been swiping his bottle. But I full on cracked up the next morning when I saw TG's reply. She erased a couple letters and it said:<br /><blockquote><br />TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, <span style="font-weight: bold;">do</span> take it!</blockquote><br /><br />Clever of her, wasn't it? I had to snicker, because that is SUCH a TG thing to do.<br /><br />Little Man's reply?<br /><br /><blockquote>TG, the water bottle in the freezer is mine, do take it! - <span style="font-weight: bold;">I said do <span style="font-style: italic;">NOT</span> take it, you idiot!</span></blockquote><br /><br />Ha! I know I shouldn't laugh that he called his sister an idiot, but I just couldn't help it. Freaking kids.<br /><br />Funny how the same kid who will call his sister an idiot on the whiteboard will also use it to write me notes. Last week his school was having a canned food drive and he asked me if he could take in a donation. I asked him to write it on the board for me so I wouldn't forget. His note?<br /><br /><blockquote>Dear mom, I would love it if you would put some canned food out for me. Sincerely, LM. </blockquote><br /><br />Awfully polite for a mouthy brat, don't you think?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-3940744372728640952009-05-15T08:38:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:18:02.300-07:00These boots are made for CheeksA little over six months ago, I bought these boots for Cheeks at Nordstrom Rack while we were in Portland at my sister's house. She had been asking for a pair of cowboy <s>books</s> boots (Thanks, Holly), which I was hesitant in buying. I thought these boots were a good compromise. She loved them. She still loves them. In fact, I think she would sleep with them on if she could. It doesn't matter what she's wearing, unless it's P.E. day, the boots are on. She wears them with skirts, dresses, shorts. You name it. If I didn't know her so well, I would think that she's trying to set a new fashion trend for 7 year olds.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YN7wVShAImHglK7AKuLvCCo9aVF5S5dEQdzDB5ILGfxu_7_IngKcqwcyRHzDRjkR3bG9x8JSi6JwkCO4mR8J4K1UN55GZYHmrDLj3lVeJCDlMs-9Blmm2HN69lajSjPaSFqe-dx_DRBO/s1600-h/IMG_1670.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5YN7wVShAImHglK7AKuLvCCo9aVF5S5dEQdzDB5ILGfxu_7_IngKcqwcyRHzDRjkR3bG9x8JSi6JwkCO4mR8J4K1UN55GZYHmrDLj3lVeJCDlMs-9Blmm2HN69lajSjPaSFqe-dx_DRBO/s400/IMG_1670.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336076383834602226" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<br />
This was from this morning.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0T20EGyrVFprjxP8wpX1Tw8_FcdEf1IVZhLmZQ1RdkE9kHt49oOR-pCTUnJQSue4g-NOBayuw-MoBlHt3v4lfW2KYDcQxTx3o2p9Huf3Jx3v6FACb8vw1GX7PtuLKhbvUnM6QAg1fjFsE/s1600-h/IMG_1673.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0T20EGyrVFprjxP8wpX1Tw8_FcdEf1IVZhLmZQ1RdkE9kHt49oOR-pCTUnJQSue4g-NOBayuw-MoBlHt3v4lfW2KYDcQxTx3o2p9Huf3Jx3v6FACb8vw1GX7PtuLKhbvUnM6QAg1fjFsE/s400/IMG_1673.JPG" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5336077344545368818" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 400px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 300px;" /></a><br />
<br />
In the summer, she'll start wearing flip-flops. What am I going to do in the fall? She'll probably have grown out of them by then. Knowing her, she'll want to cut a hole in the front so they'll still fit.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-24884621652478882732009-05-12T14:07:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:19:42.665-07:00Cheeks' Mother's Day letterLast Friday, Cheeks's teacher did the coolest Mother's Day thing evah. Each kid had to write their mom a letter. We all came in and everyone read their letter out loud. Then we had a nice picnic lunch in the windy/cold conditions. Cheeks's letter had me tearing up and laughing at the same time. <br />
<blockquote>
<br />
Dear Mommy,<br />
<br />
I love you because you know that I like spaghetti without tomatoes. I liked it when me and you went to Old Chicago and we played tic, tac, toe. You won and I lost. When I am sad you help me calm down. You help me take my medicine. I like you because you let me and Will walk home. I love you because you snuggle with me when I am sad. You let me watch Charmed in your bed and you let me watch Tom and Jerry downstairs. You color with me and let me have cereal for dinner. You tickle me and I laugh. I love you because you let me go to Bella's house sometimes and you let me play on your computer. I love you because you are coming to my school for Mother's Day.<br />
<br />
Happy Mother's Day.<br />
May 2009<br />
Love, Cheeks</blockquote>
<br />
Is that the freaking sweetest thing ever? ::sigh:: I was a little mortified at the "you let me have cereal for dinner" part. This was right after our next door neighbor read his mom a letter that started with "I love you because you cook me dinner every single night.". LOL<br />
<br />
I found these pictures while doing some of our spring cleaning. This is one of my favorite ones of W. I think he was about a year old. He crawled in there and fell right to sleep. <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsrTMXS3Lb0idpu5Fa_m1wYg98SHxKk9k37Ihpz7em6Mp_qyEFc_XtkrTWyQoBXViJ4F9ADUafaIDaRemuZw8qs6iJMMkKZ4E_9sanYxL7jCE60gNDC65ZcLwS3ccWlMX4HG2WG4xXTJN/s1600-h/scan0001.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwsrTMXS3Lb0idpu5Fa_m1wYg98SHxKk9k37Ihpz7em6Mp_qyEFc_XtkrTWyQoBXViJ4F9ADUafaIDaRemuZw8qs6iJMMkKZ4E_9sanYxL7jCE60gNDC65ZcLwS3ccWlMX4HG2WG4xXTJN/s400/scan0001.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335048588927096050" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 270px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<br />
And here's our princess. She hasn't changed a bit.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8csj4iyvwh1c-epT84NAOC2ZoZkXPhDZBDzJECq8clR9oLLzXw0ihmPajoWMyNr5ydGXd_rQtKaTEOZLgiuo5K9zs7rfmKhGuFZXR9PtEOUxgolklKYiz8gbi32Vc9fUUue4h9Y4HXb2x/s1600-h/scan0002.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8csj4iyvwh1c-epT84NAOC2ZoZkXPhDZBDzJECq8clR9oLLzXw0ihmPajoWMyNr5ydGXd_rQtKaTEOZLgiuo5K9zs7rfmKhGuFZXR9PtEOUxgolklKYiz8gbi32Vc9fUUue4h9Y4HXb2x/s400/scan0002.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335048799280628642" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 270px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-4168521160771743782009-05-05T17:25:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:20:13.279-07:00Soccer funJack is at soccer practice with W. I called him b/c he was going to the store and I forgot to tell him something else I needed. The following conversation ensued:<br />
<blockquote>
<br />
Jack: I swear, our son is the laziest kid out there...like out of all the kids out there. (meaning not just on his team, but out of about 10 teams).<br />
<br />
Me: And this surprises you how?</blockquote>
<br />
It's true. If W had a motto, it would be "Why run if you can walk?"Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-79433173354307857492009-05-01T13:52:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:21:02.899-07:00My son, the public speaker<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pLfG1v5Z5J08mrTx3A8RQnu4HkiYsB6iPosKhTVANVs1wxoB1vpdMyJfUwlaPPQjBGawGWbp7yd3YI-oP8qdBvfnTZkm8ojR8tqgc3zKDApL5Kx3M3k9uM5Rb77Wo3XSL8ENu7obj0Kk/s1600-h/Willspeech.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-pLfG1v5Z5J08mrTx3A8RQnu4HkiYsB6iPosKhTVANVs1wxoB1vpdMyJfUwlaPPQjBGawGWbp7yd3YI-oP8qdBvfnTZkm8ojR8tqgc3zKDApL5Kx3M3k9uM5Rb77Wo3XSL8ENu7obj0Kk/s320/Willspeech.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330961618505135074" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 320px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 263px;" /></a><br />
We got the link to the wedding photos last night. This is a screenshot of the actual picture (Dear Photographer, we will pay for prints). That is not me behind W. It's Jack's aunt. I cut off her head. <br />
<br />
So, as per tradition, the best man made the speech then offered up the microphone to anyone that wanted to say anything to the bride and groom. I'm pretty sure that W was the first one that offered. As much as I'd like to take credit for it, Jack and I did not prompt him to do this, nor did he have anything written. This is pure W.<br />
<blockquote>
"I just want to say congratulations to Christine and Frank on their wedding day. And Christine, you look very beautiful today."</blockquote>
<br />
After that last part, my MIL started crying. Jack and I were bug eyed with our mouths hanging open. I was torn between laughing and crying. He never calls Jack's mom "Christine". She's Nana. But it was just so W. <br />
<br />
I never really understood the expression "bursting with pride", but that's how I felt after he handed the microphone over. <br />
<br />
At least we're doing it right w/ one kid.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-44752668282756185702009-04-28T08:25:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:21:53.864-07:00Kids are so damn expensive<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU16qSb-AWGf7V5tzInvLK51bwSHhm8wjHQfCVrp0RDktVMPtffveoLDFC8NwDPegm1_sjTlnVm5NqvYu4aeVoMowQrK7Uo1LPvNJGgN-Xg35oDeCyDpBARz-nRlfXVktoVq54jiDc2Mw-/s1600-h/money.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU16qSb-AWGf7V5tzInvLK51bwSHhm8wjHQfCVrp0RDktVMPtffveoLDFC8NwDPegm1_sjTlnVm5NqvYu4aeVoMowQrK7Uo1LPvNJGgN-Xg35oDeCyDpBARz-nRlfXVktoVq54jiDc2Mw-/s200/money.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5329764036532351778" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
Cheeks has been losing teeth left and right for the past two months. She's lost a total of eight teeth (4 on top and 4 on bottom). She just lost her 4th tooth on the top, which allowed one of her top middle teeth to come in. I noticed that it was big and seemed to be blocking the tooth next to it. <br />
<br />
Today Jack took both kids to their semi-annual dental appointment. They took a panoramic x-ray of Cheeks and have referred her to the orthodontist. <br />
<br />
*headdesk*<br />
<br />
Mother-f-er. SRSLY? W already had to get a butt load of ortho work done. He's 8 years old and has already had braces. He has space maintainers on the top and he's getting them for the bottom on Friday. We switched insurance at the beginning of the year. I figured since we were already maxed out on ortho for W, we wouldn't need it anyway. Now the insurance we have, ortho is excluded. <br />
<br />
Does it ever end? I mean, really. I need to sell a kidney or some shit. Any takers?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-58356836516082033642009-04-20T15:34:00.000-07:002014-04-30T12:22:41.826-07:00A "not very pleasant" note from WWe were in Northern California for my MIL's wedding from Wednesday to Sunday. On Friday night, we threw her a surprise bridal shower. As most people know, bridal showers are generally for females. So W was very upset that he couldn't come upstairs and be a part of it. Cheeks was w/ us, as was his four year old cousin. He wasn't a happy camper. They have a big bonus room upstairs and I could kind of seem him loitering outside the door, giving me the evil eye. <br />
<br />
A few minutes after I saw them, he came in and handed me a fake rose petal (part of the decorations). He said "This note is for you. It's not a very pleasant note." and then he left. <br />
<br />
<s>I'm kind of having to wing it, b/c I can't find the damn thing. Which really pisses me off, b/c I thought I put it in my pocket.</s> I went upstairs and asked him and he remembered it word for word. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. <br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Dear moma, <br />
I'm not going to be your ring bearer anymore. And I'm serious.<br />
Not your love,<br />
W</blockquote>
<br />
<br />
I have more stories about him. Including the speech he gave at the reception. God, I love that kid.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-40913101290645901842009-04-07T09:40:00.001-07:002014-05-01T14:26:32.483-07:00Kids & Tofu<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71cAXGRe6Z2eDXSByYT8DAkU07tMOfDCkQbkwFg8xGeF-1uKSve-ZBUfpRufFRHgyhjRpq7bE_5XaIByHmF9rsgimg50mrutat1vZEvDdpbGYPiWiJ2icVWdd5Ifme2_4LEq3NoMz0JKd/s1600-h/jitcrunch.aspx.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh71cAXGRe6Z2eDXSByYT8DAkU07tMOfDCkQbkwFg8xGeF-1uKSve-ZBUfpRufFRHgyhjRpq7bE_5XaIByHmF9rsgimg50mrutat1vZEvDdpbGYPiWiJ2icVWdd5Ifme2_4LEq3NoMz0JKd/s200/jitcrunch.aspx.jpg" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5321991774203890450" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 200px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 200px;" /></a><br />
<br />
I don't make tofu very often. If you don't cook it right, it tastes like, well, nothing. If you make you're able to make good tofu, then it is <span style="font-style: italic;">good</span>. <br />
<br />
On Sunday night, I made <a href="http://www.theveggietable.com/recipes/bbqtofu.html">Barbequed Tofu Sandwiches</a>. They were really good. Jack and even my brother liked them. Because of this misconception that W has about "my" food, I told him it was chicken. No, that doesn't make me horrible. Just sneaky. LOL<br />
<br />
He loved it. LOVED it. He even wanted seconds. I couldn't eat my whole sandwich, so I gave him the rest of mine. As he was finishing his, I told him what it really was. He thought I meant the one I gave him. I told him that it was all the same. After that, he wouldn't eat anymore. <br />
<br />
Freaking kids. This is what happens when I try to cook. Next time, I'm just going to stick to the lie.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-68387331813255059122009-04-02T05:38:00.000-07:002014-05-01T14:27:04.459-07:00He's like me in one wayThe running joke in our family is that Cheeks is my mini-me. Well, W is like me in some ways, too.<br />
<br />
Yesterday morning, I told him to get dressed (twice) and when he didn't come downstairs, I went up to see what he was doing. He was still in his underwear and he was reading. He's been really into the Lemony Snicket series and was almost done w/ one of the books. It instantly brought to mind how many times I was caught reading when I wasn't supposed to be.<br />
<br />
Honestly, I did know if I should hug him or yell at him.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-14867239586312214672009-04-01T09:00:00.000-07:002009-04-01T09:00:00.446-07:00My April Fool's Joke<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoKRAfKsfUORQF9_Ec24l8Q2hKrRlJRB8ZHwu0YoXRokinEp1oRlKYCRZgWf6-BDjbmigOcjBht6aQeOtCW6eOT6rYNnIjhBLVtriC8PC4QJpQmjFrvP3M9n_mnkJr25Szy-p_pjpBpmZ/s1600-h/boy.gif"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 270px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigoKRAfKsfUORQF9_Ec24l8Q2hKrRlJRB8ZHwu0YoXRokinEp1oRlKYCRZgWf6-BDjbmigOcjBht6aQeOtCW6eOT6rYNnIjhBLVtriC8PC4QJpQmjFrvP3M9n_mnkJr25Szy-p_pjpBpmZ/s320/boy.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5319751971185698882" border="0" /></a><br />At about 2:00 a.m. on April 1st, 1999 I woke up after having the strangest dream - in which I was having labor pains and Tom Cruise (this was back before he went batshit crazy, <span style="font-style: italic;">thankyouvermuch</span>) was my birthing coach - with a dire need to use the bathroom. I crawled out of bed and headed down the hall to the bathroom. When I got back to bed I found the surprise of a lifetime - my bed was soaked. And not in a good way.<br /><br />I <span style="font-style: italic;">was</span> in labor (though sadly there was no Tom in sight) and my water had broken. I woke up my (now ex) husband and told him it was time to go to the hospital. While he scrambled around all panicked I grabbed a quick shower and put a bag together (I wasn't due for another 9 days, so I hadn't packed one yet). <a href="http://cranberrytarts.blogspot.com/2006/03/rat-bastard.html">The RB</a> (my ex) was basically useless, standing there staring at me while I finished packing and getting myself ready to go. Eventually I told him he needed to get dressed and he shook his head like he was coming out of a daze and threw some clothes on.<br /><br />While he did that I called his mom to let her know we were bringing The Girl over and then called my mom (who was living in California at the time) to let her know we were going to the hospital. That done, I woke The Girl up and got her ready to go.<br /><br />We gathered everything up and headed out the door, only to stop short. While we'd been sleeping peacefully in our beds a storm had moved in and there was over 3 feet of snow on the ground with a blizzard still raging. Naturally, because nothing can ever be easy, we didn't own a 4 wheel drive. The RB went down to clear off the car and warm it up.<br /><br />It was slow going - when there's a storm like that the streets don't get plowed in the middle of the night - but we eventually made it to his parent's house where we dropped The Girl off, and then to the hospital. Once we were all checked in and I had an epidural (best invention like, ever) we settled in to wait.<br /><br />I'll spare you the gruesome details of labor and delivery (like how the RB said I sounded like a pig while grunting through contractions and I broke his hand - hey, he isn't the Rat Bastard for nothing), but at 10:49 a.m., Little Man was born. We made the requisite calls and then I knocked out. I was discharged from the hospital at 9:00 the next morning. When we got home we checked the answering machine and there were about 15 messages, almost all of them from my mother, "If this is some kind of April Fool's joke I'm going to kick your ass! Call me back!"<br /><br />Gotta love the Devil Woman.<br /><br />Like I said, his due date wasn't until April 9th, so in a way, he was my April Fool's joke.<br /><br />Dear Little Man,<br /><br />You're <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2009/01/boys-are-strange.html">a strange child</a>, often <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2009/03/pita-its-type-of-flatbread-i-swear.html">a PITA</a>, occasionally <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2009/03/p-word.html">super silly</a> and <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2008/08/i-really-just-dont-understand.html">stubborn as all get out</a>. But you're also <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-now-for-real-reason-i-had-kids.html">helpful</a>, <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2009/03/out-of-mouths-of-babes.html">sweet</a> and <a href="http://momsnotdeadyet.blogspot.com/2008/09/apple-doesnt-fall-far-from-tree.html">a total joy to me</a>.<br /><br />I love you with all my heart and I'm so glad you're mine. Yes, even when you're a PITA.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Happy 10th Birthday, Baby Boy!</span><br /><br />Love,<br /><br />Your mamaUnknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-90824422142805757952009-03-25T09:47:00.000-07:002014-05-01T14:27:38.245-07:00At least he can blame it on sleepwalkingLooks like I'm not the only one getting <a href="http://mrsblondie.blogspot.com/2009/03/blonde-moment-7164.html">lost</a> in our house. Last night when I was heading upstairs to go to bed, I heard the laundry room door close. So I joked to Jack that Molly needed some privacy, so she closed the door (not all the way). She's weird like that, so I wasn't surprised at all.<br />
<br />
When I got upstairs, I saw that the light in the laundry room was on and went to turn it off. What did I find? W, with his shorts down and about to pee in Molly's water. I got there in the nick of time and gently steered him to the bathroom. The only thing I thought I had to worry about when it came to W's nighttime bathroom visits was whether or not he'd put the seat up. Obviously I have to re-evaluate.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8990546489833987094.post-15073573030718373902009-03-19T07:51:00.000-07:002014-05-01T14:28:41.866-07:00Happy Birthday, CheeksDear Cheeks,<br />
<br />
Today you turn seven years old.<br />
<br />
If there is one thing that daddy and I have learned about you in the past seven years, it is that you do things your way. From the moment I was pregnant with you, we have not had a minute of peace. You made your existence known from the womb. I had morning sickness for my whole pregnancy with you. I went into labor at 1am on March 19, 2002.<br />
<br />
I told daddy that we should have known right then...you weren't going to be easy. That turned out to be an understatement.<br />
<br />
We spent five days in the hospital after you were born b/c of your heart. If I would have known who you were going to turn out to be, I would have said that you did it on purpose to have all of our attention to yourself. <br />
<br />
Raising you has been a rollercoaster ride. There is no other person in the world that can make me as mad as you do. There is no other person in the world who can make me laugh as much as you do. So while life hasn't been peaceful since you were born, it has still been wonderful. You bring joy to our lives, Cheeks. Even though life is a constant struggle since you've been born, we wouldn't change anything about you. <br />
<br />
I hope your day lives up to your expectations. I have never seen anyone as happy as you were this morning when I said "Happy Birthday". It's times like these that make everything we've gone through with you worth it. Your smile and laugh is infectious. I think even W would agree. <br />
<br />
Happy seventh birthday, Cheeks. I love you.<br />
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Love, <br />
Momma<br />
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P.S. Can you believe that daddy actually reminded me not to forget your birthday before he left this morning??Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4