Mom to the Screaming Masses

My introduction to coffee

When I was a child, my parents were big coffee drinkers.  They both drank it the same way - straight up.  Plain, black, unaltered.  My mother is vehement in her dislike of coffee with "stuff" added - it's not true coffee.  One taste, when I was small, and I decided I wasn't EVER going to drink such a disgusting beverage.

When I was a teen, my father bought an espresso machine.  It was a new appliance, and we were the first ones on our block to have one.  My parents had friends on either side of us, and they frequently came over for dinner, or drinks, or just friendship.  My dad made the first shots of espresso for everyone, and they raved about the flavor, the taste, the body of the beverage.  I took a small sip and gagged.  My dad laughed and told me to add some milk and sugar.  One shot of espresso, about ten spoons of sugar, and a cup of cream, and YUM!  It was delicious. 

Now, I drink coffee every single day.  It has to be sweet and light.  I can't stand black coffee.  Daily, I have a white mocha from Starbucks - two shots of espresso, steamed milk and white chocolate syrup.  If I'm out to dinner somewhere, I'll have plain coffee, with lots of sugar and cream.

What about you?  Black, lightly doctored, or so doctored it's a different beverage?

"What Kind of Coffee Are You?" - Results:

You are drip coffee. You are practical, business-like and hands-off, except for when your 'machine' needs 'servicing' and 'cleaning'.

What kind of coffee are you?

Ye Old Photo Meme

So, I'm slack.  I'm doing the photo meme.  What do you want to see shots of?  Where I grocery shop?  Where I blog?  My breakfast?  My vehicle/backyard/washing machine/toenails?  The inside of my fridge or pantry?  Anything from my daily life is fair game, as long as it's something I can post without fear of my kids walking in.

I know it's not pictures of my kids - I post lots of them.

C'mon.  What do you want to know about me?

Fun with a box

Last week, we decided to have a little fun with the reading bench, a kid's sofa, and a box....  (click to enlarge)

Step 1       Step 2

Step 3

Update

My poor baby Riley is so sick. She's had a fever since early Sunday morning, and then on Tuesday afternoon she started puking.  She spent the entire night vomiting every thirty minutes. We went through 3 sets of my bed sheets, 2 crib sheets, 4 pairs of my pjs, 6 pair of hers, 12 towels and 2 blankets. And a partridge in a pear tree. She couldn't keep anything down, not even breast milk.  A moment on the lips, 30 seconds in the tummy, and right back atcha, Mom.  Ugh.

She had a 15 month well check scheduled for yesterday, so we went to the doc anyway -  we went in on the sick side.  I was shocked when she was weighed.  She was 19.6 at her 12 month check, and 21.9 at her 14 month ear infection visit.  She was back down to 19.6 yesterday, so two pounds lost.  She looks so thin.

She's not puking anymore, but she's really lethargic.  Prayers for her would  be much appreciated.

Age is only a state of mind

(Swiped from Michele)

Most of us know of at least one May-December romance. Some people say that age should not matter as much as maturity or experience. Do you agree? What is the biggest age difference that you could accept for yourself?

I've said before that The Hubster is 15 years older than I am.  In many aspects, we are similar in age.  I act older - always have - and he's pretty juvenile - can you tell we had a fight this morning?  My mom is only 6 years older than my husband, and yet they are light years apart.  People think my mother is in her late sixties or so, and that my husband is in his late thirties.

What is kind of weird to me is that I'm 35, my step mother is in her 40's, my stepdaughters are in their late 20's, and I have a half sister the same age as my daughters AND my husband's grandkids. 

Whew.  We have a family vine, not a tree. 

Interview?

Anyone want to be interviewed for an article I'm writing for submission?  I need to know what you wish your chld/children's teacher knew. 

HA!  What a loaded topic, eh?

Seriously, you always see those bogus articles, "What your child's teacher wants you to know", with things teachers want you to do with your kids. 

Just leave your answer in the comments section.  You can be as long winded as you want, and if I need further clarification I'll email you.

Thanks!

The two day Meet n' Greet.

Or, Carmen is too lame to think of new stuff to post, so I'm swiping from a million different sites around.

Spread the Comment Cheer.

The site of the day: the person above you and then you.

How to play:

• Leave a comment here that says hello.
• Now, go visit the person who commented above you and say Hello, Carmen sent me. 

Please play along.

Note to the first person commenting: simply say hello to me.

And YES, of course you are invited to play as often as you wish. As you already know, I encourage that kind of thing.

Please make me feel good, and let me see a double digit in the comment box.  I don't think I've ever seen that.

The quiet game

"Ok guys, here's the deal.  Mommy has a headache, so while we are driving home from the restaurant, let's play the quiet game, ok?" Please, God.  I'm begging you.  I'll say extra prayers tonight.

"OOooh, I can be quiet!  I can be quieter that you!"  "NO!!!!  I'M the quietest, right, Mommy?"

"One, two, three.  No more talking."  In a perfect world, that would be it, and it'd be quiet all the way home.  But, not in the reality that is my world.

"Gabe, humming is the same as talking for this game.  No humming either."

"MOM!  He's whispering!"

"But, she talked when she told on me!"

My brain is ready to pop.  I wonder if it will slide out my eye sockets. 

"Is this car a three cylinder, or a four?  Does it have four wheel drive?"

"I neither know nor care.  Quiet game now!"

"SHRIIIEEEEKKKK!!!!" 

"Riley's not being quiet.  She lost the game."  "No, you did by opening your big mouth."  "I do NOT have a big mouth!"

"Mom, do you know that you can have silent farts?"

If my head didn't hurt so much, I'd laugh. 

"Do you know that Martin Luther Ki-, ok, it's the quiet game.  I get it, Mom."

"MOM, he called me a loser!"

"I didn't hear anything."

"No, he did it with his fingers.  He put a big L on his forehead."

If I was to get out of the car, and stand on the side of the road and scream, do you think anyone would hear?

Further evidence that I have lost my brain

Last week, Mackenzie forgot her lunch money.  The lunch lady, named Lucy, is really kind about that type of stuff and gave her lunch anyway. (Her kindness, though, ended up costing the school almost $1000 last year, so she's not supposed to loan the kids money.  She's to give them a peanut butter sandwich and water.  She's pretty soft, though, and if she knows the family well, she fronts the money and lets you pay it back.) She sent a note home telling me that I needed to repay the money.  The next day, another note came home, this time with the relevant parts highlighted.  Another note two days later, this time with the entire note highlighted. 

I didn't find these notes until the weekend.  Mackenzie had stuck them under her booster seat.  You know, that's where I always look for the important papers.  I called Lucy, apologized for the oversight, explained the reason that I hadn't paid, and promised to pay when I came into school that day.  I went into the office to drop off a forgotten trumpet, and put the money in her box. 

The next day, I went into the school for something else, and saw Lucy in the bookkeepers office.  I said, "Did you get the money that I left for you?" 

She said, "What money?"

"You know, the money for Mackenzie."  After all, she did send me a note or two. And I spoke to her on the phone.

"What money for Mackenzie?"

I can't believe this.  She sent me THREE notes about this, and now she can't even remember. "You know, the $2.25 that you loaned my daughter."

Blank look.

"The $2.25 that you loaned her when she forgot her money last week.  Don't you remember?" Boy, this lady is out of it.  Should she really be handling money?  She can't even remember that she sent me notes, and that I paid her back.  Geez.

"Money.  For Mackenzie.  I don't know what you are talking about."

I was really getting annoyed then.  How could she not remember this?

The book keeper looked at me kind of funny, and then said, "You know this is Kathy P, the art teacher, right???"

I stared at her.  Then I looked at Lucy, and realized that, indeed, it was Kathy.  I KNEW it was Kathy.  She's been the art teacher at school for 7 years.  I KNOW WHO SHE IS.  She looks NOTHING like Lucy, who is small, spanish and dark haired.  Kathy is taller, heavier and blonde, with glasses.  Where was my brain?

Stupidly, I said, "I know who you are.  You ARE the art teacher.  Why did I ask you that?"

I think I need more sleep.