Mother's Day Tea

"The note that explains that each child should bring a lunch today, was put in his backpack on Tuesday." This was said by my son's preschool teacher in the company of 10 other mother's at the Mother's Day Tea. It was her response back when I thanked her for providing a lunch for Tucker. Defending my "choice" to not send a lunch, I tried to explain that I had intended on taking him out to lunch after the event. I then looked at another mom and commented that I wasn't quite sure where the book bag was. (Quite honestly, it is likely still wherever it landed on Tuesday.) The mom ever-so-politely looked at me, smiled, tilted her head, and said "If that is not enough food for him, I am sure my son will share part of his lunch."

Towards the end of the tea (which was precious), another parent asked if I was the mom who volunteered to plan the End of the Year party. I chuckled a bit and told her no. About 15 minutes later, Tucker's teacher thanked us all for coming, and told everyone that all the boys and girls were looking forward to the End of the Year party Tucker's mom was planning. Fantastic. In fact, I DID sign up for that. Apparently I signed up for this about the same time Chris and I were watching documentaries on the Apocalypse of 2012.


Update:

The morning started with Tucker telling me not to worry. He said they would not be singing "Sexy and I Know It" at the party because his teacher said no. I didn't really think it was important on how he knew this. I just said, "oh good."

One of the teachers was going to be waiting for me in the parking lot at 10:45. As I pulled in at 10:59, I was trying to decide if I should take the inevitable lecture for being late or be straight up and tell her that I had to explain to a child that the "f-bomb" is actually not a good way to defend yourself. Considering that Tucker attends a private church school, and she may not find the humor in the child's remark, I opted for the lecture. The lecture was short; likely short due to the fact that my tardiness took time away from the party, but short none the less. I took it like a champ. What she did explain was that had I told them a month ago what my plan was, we would not have to celebrate in the same grassy area that the farm animals enjoyed a few weeks ago. (Clearly I played off the "OMG, I signed up for what?" expression at the Mother's Day Tea. Which, mind you, was only last week.) In true Keeli fashion, I smiled, put down the picnic blankets, set up the table, and commented that hopefully the rain washed away whatever the farm animals left behind. As she walked away, I was tempted to "defend" myself (most certainly not in the same nature as the student did who caused me to be late), but I did decide to make myself a promise...I promised myself that I would never sign up for anything again without calling my best friend first (just to be sure I was in my right mind) AND celebrate that I was actually able to pull it off.

The party was a success. In his most precious lisp, Tucker said "that party was awesome!" That was all I needed.

I'm Versatile!

I was so excited when Katie at

http://tutusandtantrums.blogspot.com/

awarded me with the
Versatile Blogger award!


The Versatile Blogger award is awarded by your fellow bloggers and is a way
to recognize newer blogs that you really like.
And it's a great way to share those blogs with your own followers!

Thanks Katie! 

I have to share 7 things about myself
and then
I get to award the Versatile Blogger award to 7 of my fave and growing blogs!




So 7 fun things about me:

1. I do not eat meat off of a bone.

2. I do not eat meat at mexican restaurants.

3. I do not eat mushrooms. Pee Wee Herman used to make snacks on his show. One time he pretended to eat a poisonous mushroom. Because of this episode, I get nervous that if I eat a mushroom, it may be poisonous.

4. By the time I graduated from high school I had attended 13 different schools.

5. When I am folding laundry, I have to get all the socks out first. If I start to fold a shirt and see a sock, I immediately put the shirt down and get the sock out. Seriously.

6. I interned as a probation officer for a short time just out of college. When a giant man reached across my desk to (likely) put his hands around my neck when I told him he was to be drug tested, I never went back.

7. I am VERY organized at work to the point that people think I have OCD. I am the EXACT opposite at home. My house is not organized nor clean.
(Well, maybe for an hour after the cleaning people come.)

  

I am awarding the Versatile blogger award to the following great blogs:

1. Katie at http://www.tutusandtantrums.blogspot.com/

2. Keisha at http://morrismommy.blogspot.com/

3. Kasey at http://dieps.blogspot.com/

 4. Erica at  http://teamt2e2.blogspot.com/
5. Jamie at http://jamiegoodwin.wordpress.com/
6. Jaime at http://twoboysandachinadoll.shutterfly.com/
7. and Sandi at http://sunshineandsmilesphotography.blogspot.com/ 
(Although Sandi's isn't an ongoing blog, she is an amazing
photographer and I love seeing her work!) 

Make sure that you pass this on to blogs that you love :) 

 

Glasses

"Keeli, I just wanted to let you know that Brylee Kate failed her vision screening again. You may just want to follow up with an eye doctor." This was an email I received from the guidance counselor, also a good friend, about Brylee Kate's screening at school. The screening that Brylee Kate requested, not me. The screening that along with my signature giving permission, I wrote "Brylee Kate is requesting this, not her mother." I wish I could say I made that up, but I am not. I actually put something in writing that will haunt me forever.

With some lingering skepticism, I scheduled the appointment.

Throughout the appointment Brylee Kate was asked to read various things. I nearly had a heart attack when giant five foot letters (slight exaggeration) were displayed on the board and she read every letter except the letter displayed. It took every bit of willpower not to correct her; explain to the doctor that in fact she is reading above grade level and must be making it up; or even sign the letters to her, prompting the correct response.

Less than a week after the appointment we went to pick up her new glasses. As we are driving away from the eye doctor, Brylee Kate is grinning from ear to ear pointing out several things she had "never seen before".

June Cleaver

"I really wish I had one of those safe can openers that Pampered Chef sells." This was the last thought that went through my mind before the thought, "oh no, not again".

I am no June Cleaver. I do not clean unless I think someone is coming over. I do not iron if I have time to run my dryer to get the wrinkles out. I also do not cook, nor do I claim to. With that being said, I woke up a couple of Sundays ago with an incredible imagination (reflecting on the day, I think the word imagination is the best choice). I woke up as June Cleaver. I immediately started laundry, did my weekend couponing, mealed planned, and executed my shopping all before 4:00. I was so proud. I was so proud, in fact, I didn't tell Chris (he was on duty). I wanted to surprise him. I was actually ready to tell him that I had become the domestic goddess he didn't marry. This all came to an abrupt end around 5:00. Forget not being able to toast a piece of bread without burning it, I clearly have no business opening a can either. I sliced my finger so bad that you would have thought I hit a major artery. It was nasty.

Naturally, Chris was on duty. A year and a half ago when I released a monkey ladder on my foot, broke a couple bones, and required stitches (hence the "not again" thought), he was also on duty. 2 months after that when I slipped and fractured my ankle, he was on duty. Why would it be any other way? Anyway, just like the foot mishaps, my incredible neighbors were there to save the day. They took all 3 of my babies. They fed them and even bathed them for me (along with their 2).

Although my neighbor offered to take me, I decided to take myself for the stitches. This was clearly not one of my better ideas since I had cut the artery in my right hand in which I write with. Who knew the 12 year old at the desk would not sign me in? Who knew the 12 year old at the desk could not transfer the information from my licence and insurance card she copied on the 25 pages of paperwork? Who knew my sweet neighbor would have to come down anyway to fill out my address because the 12 year old wouldn't? I would love to have a picture of the look on my face when she told me to "let her know when I contacted someone to fill out the paperwork for me". I cannot imagine that one of her strengths is reading facial expressions since she still didn't offer, but maybe I am wrong. Maybe my face didn't express my true feelings. None the less, my neighbor came to write my address and insurance information for me. Seriously.


I cannot even begin to tell you everything I witnesses, overheard, or speculated during my four hour visit; but trust me, it was more than I could have ever dreamed of. Although they have rooms there, I am not sure they are used for anything other than triage. After they do all the initial check in stuff, they put you in a back room where only curtains separate you from other patients. Where I am thankful this is not the setting I birthed my children, I do admit, I enjoyed this setting for something much less exciting. I was able to hear lab updates, patient information, and even treatment plans of/for particular patients without breaching confidentiality (well, I couldn't see them and I didn't know their names). Luckily, I do not have a weak stomach, but when the lady with the stomach flu entered, I questioned this. After listening to her vomit multiple times, I started to giggle a little thinking "this cannot be happening to me". When she explained that her suppository would not stay in, I lost it. I started laughing and could not stop. I was trying so hard to keep it contained that I was crying. As luck would have it, the doctor walked in. I think she thought my tears were those of sadness, but I made up some comment referencing a text and she said "I understand". She returned shortly there after to stitch me up. During this time we had a nice conversation with an occasional pause as my suite mate continued to vomit.


Where I would have loved to have seen my one day as June Cleaver come to fruition, I have to admit, I really did enjoy my stay at Urgent Care. It brought me endless entertainment, a lot of laughter, and as most mothers would likely agree...a few hours of "me" time.

The "Talk"

"Mom, did you know I have hair under my armpits?" (She proceeded to provide me with a visual.) This is how dinner started one night this week.

Not knowing how to respond, I said "Would anyone like butter on their biscuit?". Regardless of how educated you are, how many questions you have asked other mothers of girls, you are never ready. I spent that evening worrying about how I was going to tell her, what I was going to tell her, and when I was going to tell her. Fortunately, the following evening, I would have about 45 minutes in the car, just she and I.

There are two different types of people in this world; people who think this is a beautiful thing and an exciting time in a girl's life; and those who think, "that poor kid, she is about to experience, hair (that you shave off), cramping that makes you miserable, hormones that make you want to hurt people, and weight gain that you will forever fight." I am the latter of the two. But as a side note: I do enjoy a good episode of 'Snapped' on Oxygen when I have PMS.

The next day I call my mom who says, "Can you please video record this for me?" She offered no advice, just a little 'payback giggle'. I call my husband on my way to get her, expressing my anxiety, and he basically responds with "I don't want to talk about this. What do you want for dinner?" So I head to the book store, bought a book for her, and I sat in the parking lot of the store reading...reading about what does happen and how I can explain it to an 11 year old. Although I believe in being honest with your kids, I wasn't sure if the cynical approach was appropriate.

There really isn't a good segway when broaching such discussion, but I did it. I had the "talk" with my daughter. I do have a few friends of her to thank for "previewing" the subject, but I am glad she heard most of the details from me. Oh, and I am not sure who told her that you can be arrested for having sex, but thank you. :)

When we got home, my sweet husband had a drink waiting on me. (I likely requested it, but nonetheless it was there.) When Allie went upstairs to change, I explained to Chris that she knew we had an 'open door policy' if she had questions. I believe his exact response was "the hell we do!". I would like to think he was kidding, but I doubt it.

A couple days later I asked Allie if she had looked at the book and if she had any questions. She said she did and leaned in as if it was a private question. I braced myself only to be asked, "Mom, does your face really grow as you get older?"

I would not count this as a "bucket list", but I cannot tell you how thankful I am that it is off whatever list it is on.

Should I be Worried?

Confession: All three of my children have watched the show COPS since birth.

My first degree was in Criminal Justice and I spent a VERY short time working in an intensive probation (just short of prison) program. That "opportunity" came to a quick end when a very large man, three times my size, attempted to wrap his hands around my neck when I asked for a random drug test. Honestly, I don't even remember quitting, but I don't remember returning either. Anyway, I think COPS and JAILED fills that void in my professional life. Some days I honestly think, "wow, although not one of my better parenting decisions, it does model for them what not to do." Then there are the other days...


If you have had the opportunity to read my quotes page, you may have noticed BK's question regarding riding in the back of the police car with her one day. Well, this conversation came back up at my parent's last weekend. BK told my mom that "if she ever gets arrested, she will be sure to use her manners and use yes ma'am, no ma'am, yes sir, and no sir." I am not sure whether I should be proud or worried.

PS... I promise you this...they have never seen the HO! HO! HO! episode.

Winging It

A couple years ago I was at a meeting where a parent asked me if I had any videos on parenting. (This may strike some of you as strange, but if you too worked in the public school system, you would know this is just another day in the life of an educator.) I politely smiled and said "No, I'm just winging it."

As I reflect on 2011, I have a litany of things I should probably do differently or, at best, tweak. My parenting skills make the top of this list. In 2012 I am considering conducting a head count before heading home for the day. There are 3 of them and for whatever reason, I tend to forget one or two from time to time. You may think I am kidding, but it is a weakness, I admit it. Only once have I gotten all the way home and realized I was short a kid. Sadly, it wasn't until the sitter called and said, "do you want me to feed her dinner tonight?". I tried to play off my oversight, but I am not sure she fell for it.

I am also going to try to be a little more observant when I am giving teacher gifts. As a former teacher myself, it is nice to receive a gift intended for me, not another teacher. My deepest apologies to 2 teachers this Christmas, as they were victims of this blunder. Again, with 3 kids, at least 2 teachers each, that is a little more organization than I tend to have on a day to day basis, but I will work on it.

Lastly, I am going to try to be more creative with dinner on the nights Chris is away. If you read the post about Allie and the toaster, you would know that I do not cook. As a matter of fact, I hate to cook. If I could build a house without a kitchen, I would, but I am afraid the resale value would not be as good. So, anyway, I will start small. "Creative" may be defined as a different route home, which would allow for eateries other than the standard McD's, Chick-fil-a, and Wendy's. I firmly believe this counts. I would love to commit to homemade dinners on those evenings, but I know my limits. That is not an attainable goal (for me).

For those of you who are concerned that these changes may limit the number of blog entries, please do not worry; remember, I am just "winging it".