I only need to have my way 99% of the time.

Why did I raise my hand, back in August, when the PTA asked for volunteers to run the school carnival? Why? Do I like punishing myself? Do I enjoy taking on huge tasks that I know I will not excel at accomplishing? Do I thrive on the stress that comes with last minute preparation and the "What If?" thoughts that plague event coordinators the night before. Apparently so.

Tomorrow I will be at the kids' school almost all day, preparing for the huge grand opening ceremony. I've hired the local salon to come and style hair. We have Carl's Jr. coming to serve food. There will be rockin' music, carnival games (sans the dunk booth that I so badly wanted,) and lots of fun prizes (that my friend, Nancy, hooked us up with!) Everything seems to be under control. But I know better.

Something will happen tomorrow that makes me want to bash my head against the wall. I will forget something, mess up something or offend someone. It just wouldn't be a Kadi Prescott Production with it. So tonight, I will lay in bed and go over my mental checklist. I will toss and turn, while trying to think of every possible glitch and how to resolve it. I will elbow my husband when he tries to take advantage of my insomnia, because this is no time for hanky panky, dammit! I will drag my tired ass out of bed at 6 am, looking like the crypt keeper. I will chug espresso all day, while running around like a mad woman and doing last minute chores.

Why will I do all of this? I'd like to be the perfect mommy and say, "It is all for the kids," but that would be a half truth. You want the whole truth? I am a control freak. If something doesn't go right, I want to be able to complain about the dum-bass whose fault it is. If I'm that dum-bass, then I can do it in good conscience. If it works out to be successful, I can figure out how to make it even better next time around. I want every Kadi Prescott Production to be an awesome event...for the kids (and my ego.) So I will be raising my hand again next year, stressing about it, complaining about it and then executing it to the best of my ability. This is the cycle of the control freak mother. Not pretty.

Release

I painted this today, because I felt like I needed to envision myself letting go of my grandpa. I hung it by my bed, as a reminder that I released him to Jesus. I know that his memory will live on and it will have to be enough. I'm no Picasso or Rembrandt, but it expresses the way my heart feels. I feel like I am healing on the inside. The dark clouds are the tough times and hurt in my heart, but the golden sky is the place that I know grandpa is. The lilac sky around me is the peace that I feel now. I miss him, but I am at peace in the knowledge that he is completely healed.

I'm Your Huckleberry!

I received an email from a publishing company (or maybe it was a marketing company?) yesterday, requesting to send me a book. The Official Guide to Dysfunctional Parenting, is a new book that pokes fun at the mistakes of parenting and supposedly has great tongue in cheek wit. I have a feeling that I'm going to be reading the story of my life (or the last 10 years, anyway.)

They want me to read the book, then give it a review on this blog. As I'm reading the email, I stop and think, "Hey, wait a minute. What exactly are they trying to say here? Do they think I need help because I'm dysfunctional, or because I'm not dysfunctional enough and could use some pointers?" Either way, it is pretty clear that they think that I need guidance. Being that I love to read, I will oblige their request. However, in the world of dysfunction, I am queen. I know how to mess things up on multiple levels. I am well skilled in destroying my kids, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. I have had ten years of experience in ruining our finances, almost setting the house on fire, not being able to deliver a baby without the use of drugs and many other proud accomplishments. <br/.
I have problems coping with my past, maintaining my sanity in the present and I've already secured my children's need for therapy in the future. I've even gone to the extremes of displaying our dysfunction on national television. Not even my uterus could function the way I wanted it to. How much more dysfunctional can one person get? I should be the author of that book, or at least the subject. For crap's sake, what better qualified mother is there to be a perfect example of dysfunction? And no, I'm not going to say that I put the "fun" in dysfunction. I'm not just a fragment of the word...I'm the whole damn thing!

Humor Blogs puts the "fun" in dysfunction and they really know how to make a girl feel normal!

The Talk

I carefully planned out how to approach the subject. I rehearsed possible questions and answers. I figured out how to avoid certain cliches and over dramatizing the whole sex topic. I called my husband and informed him of the need to have a talk with the kids. We agreed to sit down and lay it out for them in a very matter of fact, scientific yet spiritual manner. I was feeling very confident that we would experience great success in our attempt to properly educate the children. Then came dinner and my whole plan went down the shitter.

We were happily eating our barbecue ribs, broccoli and pasta. The usual dinner time discussion and pleas to sit down and eat, were happening. Just as the kids started to quiet down and consume their food, my husband decided to prematurely commence our sex talk. Why he did so at dinner, I'll never know. But he did. It was one of those moments when my helmet cam would have really come in handy. It is impossible to accurately illustrate the whole of the conversation and the kids reactions and the chaos. I'll just summarize.

"Kids, we need to talk about something." So they all started talking about something. Seven somethings. The whole room was buzzing with random thoughts on school, Sesame Street and other childhood interests. "Stop! I meant I need to talk and you need to listen." We got them semi quiet and I waited to hear how Daniel would handle this thing that I had so fervently prepared for. "There has been a lot of talk about sex and privates and acting nasty lately." (thunderous laughter) "This is not funny. This is serious." (giggles) "Sex is...."(explanation of the whole purpose for sex, mixed with Marlie's two cents, followed by confused looks and expressions of pure horror.) "If you are not an adult, you cannot make a baby and, therefore, should have no purpose for sex. You do not need to talk about sex with each other or friends. You talk to us if you have a question. Trenton, you may not call girls 'hot'. Aiden and Phillip, you may not play 'mom and dad' with your clothes off. Ella, you may not tell people to kiss your butt. Marlie, Daniel, Trenton and Phillip, you may not go to school and share your knowledge of sex with other kids. We do not make sex jokes, or run around naked while trying to pee on each other. "

I'm not sure if they heard anything over the laughter. I think I should probably pull the older kids aside today, and attempt to have a Q and A session with them. My favorite moment, however, was this, "So, you and Dad have sex?" To which I answered, "We have had babies, right? We had to have sex in order to have babies." Trenton sat thinking, for a second, then piped "Well, I'm gonna have lots of kids then, when I grow up!" I'm just hoping, at this point, that they all have the same mother!

Humor Blogs is the next best thing to sex...and you cannot get pregnant while enjoying it!

Bio Logic

How does one explain to their children that the reason they are being an irrational shrew is because their legs are aching, stomach is cramping and they feel like someone is ripping out their uterus? I tried desperately to subdue my desire to scream out in pain all day today. I was brave during our shopping trip, when Ella accidentally jumped on my stomach and every time I had to get up off of the couch and out of the fetal position. Finally, I just cried and said "I'm not feeling good, kids," (understatement of the year.)

They demanded to know why I wasn't outside playing with them, like we usually do. They wanted to know why they couldn't follow me into the bathroom, as is always the case in this house. Finally, Marlie got sick of all the questions and blurted, "Mom's privates are bleeding and it hurts!" The boys reeled back in disgust and Daniel cried, "Oh, my ears! My ears are bleeding!"
Aiden asked, "Mom, why are your privates bleeding? Do you need a bandaid?" I simply answered, "No. I'm fine. This just happens every time I don't get pregnant with a baby." He looked puzzled, "So just have another baby!"

In retrospect, maybe I should have just asked for a band aid and pretended to be all better!

The Dawning Of A New Age

I thought that last night's conversation with Trenton was bad enough. Then, this morning, Phillip trumped it by far with this little gem. "Hey mom, you and dad have sex!" Nice. Obviously, there is some information sharing going on in the Prescott house. Marlie has known about sex for about a year. I bought a children's book that explained the act and reason behind it. We had a girls' night to talk about it and that was the end of it.

Shortly after that, Trenton found the book that I had bought, when it accidentally fell off the top shelf of my closet. He took it upon himself to be educated in the art of sex, by looking at the pictures. We confiscated it, but I think that was the beginning of his little libido. Great. I'm not sure who is leaking information to the little ones, but the news is spreading like legs in a brothel. I think it is time to have a little sex education course. I'd rather the kids know exactly what sex is meant for, than to have them running around asking every little girl they happen upon if they are interested in playing "mommy" and "daddy." I do not need every mommy in the neighborhood angry at me and labeling us as the Perverted Prescotts. I was really hoping that we could stave those kinds of labels off until high school.

The age of information has dawned. I must have been kidding myself when envisioning my junior high aged kids sitting nicely on the couch, while I explain the birds and bees. It is a far cry from the elementary crash course I'm going to have to teach tonight. I guess this is the end of the age of innocence. Shitballs.


If any of you have kids who need the talk, feel free to join us and we can make it a community event. I could really use the moral support...and maybe some wine. No, definitely some wine.
Now, do the world a favor and educate yourself in the art of humor by clicking here: Humor 101

Do they make male chastity belts?

Tucking the kids in, every night, is a ritual that includes a personalized song, a little bedtime banter and a kiss. I never know what kind of conversation I'm going to get caught up in, when it is Trenton's turn. This was tonight's discussion (I'm not sure if I should share this, but as a mother, I have to know if this kind of stuff is normal.)
T: Good night, mama.
Me: Good night, Trenton. How is Marilyn? (His school yard crush.)
T: She's hot.
Me: Uh....okay. What's that supposed to mean?
T: She makes me all tingly when I see her.
Me: Okay. That's normal.
T: And I mean everything gets tingly (wink, wink.)
Me: Um...er...okay. That's, er....normal. I guess. Uh....good night.

I kissed him on the cheek and ran out of the room as fast as my jello like legs would carry me before I collapsed on the hallway floor. The kid just turned seven on Saturday. What is he doing with a tingly appendage? I thought that male appendages were not supposed to be tingly until much, much later. Oh...my...gawd. I am having cardiac arrest over this. Should I be worried? Should I be wondering if he's going to be like this all his life? Should I be stocking up on condoms? Holy shitballs. I'm at a loss for words. Help me out here, because I don't know what to think.

Yes, but what kind of drama?

You know something is up when the sitemeter jumps a few hundred hits within two hours. I had to peek at the referral page. To my surprise, a new group/forum has found their way to this little old blog. They have had a field day reading about our lives. This can only mean two things:

1. They love me enough to want to read all about us.
2. They hate me, yet cannot stop reading the horrific stories of my inept parenting and feeling sorry for my children.

Either way, much ado is going on over at that forum. Being that the name of the forum is "Drama Mama," I'm guessing that it is reason #2. Most forums are about bashing other people, especially people who have been on television. They cannot get past the thinking that what they see on television is truth. Then, they read this thing and are horrified that any mother could find humor in the things that I do. However, I could be assuming that this group is all about the bashing. If I am wrong, I'd love to hear from one of the lovely Drama Mama forum ladies. It would satisfy my curiosity. If not, then I'll just stick with my assumption and know that somewhere in the world there is yet another group of women hating me online.

The Path Less Traveled...

is an odd and often disturbing one, indeed. As you can all see, I have sitemeter installed on this blog. It allows me to view my blog stats. One of the stats I like to look at is how people arrive at my little corner of insanity. Most come from their own blogs or other's blogs. Some people find my blog through search engine results. This method of arrival can be interesting and sometimes, down right gross. Here is a list of my most favorite (and least favorite) search engine results that led people to this site. I've added my own commentary, just for fun:

• Why you can't wax hairy moles (I don't know how to answer this one, except to say that I do know why you should wax hairy moles.)
• eating poop (the forgotten food group?)
• I have something stuck up my butt (is this like that guy who "accidentally" slipped and fell on the cucumber? Just asking.)
• moldy food (the least of the nasty items found in our house.)
• shaving the groin area (don't look for an answer here. I don't have much luck in this area.)
• fake boobs (what? just because I have 7 kids and my boobs are still perky, you think I have had surgery? I'm offended! Okay, okay...I have 'em.)
• hairy butts (I honestly don't know why this post came up under such a search...but it stood out in my mind for some reason.)
• punishing children (you've come to the right place, my friend!)
• mediocre mother (Who me?)
• neighbor who spies (I feel your pain!)
• animal sex (this one makes me wonder who it was that was looking this up...)
• bad parents on supernanny (I'm hurt. Oh wait...okay, I'm over it.)
• drinking your own pee (I'm hoping that this person was stranded in the desert with only his laptop and needed to find some source of hydration and it was his only choice (instead of the nasty fetish search it probably really was.)
• I'm bored (this is just sad. I desperately wanted to contact this person and suggest that he/she find a hobby, or something. Like the one my children have taken up, as tattoo artists (click on the link to see what I'm talking about.)

No matter how they arrive, most usually never stay. Unlike you all, they cannot handle the truth that is life with the Prescott posse! It is definitely not a blog for the faint of heart or those easily disgusted by human waste.

Marriage, Actually

While sitting at the restaurant on Friday, Daniel and I discussed the possibility of taking a weekend to celebrate our upcoming anniversary. It is not until July, but if we want to go anywhere, it is going to take months of preparation. Babysitters do not just come running with offers to watch the kids. It takes a long time to butter people up, before you deserve the privilege of asking for a babysitting favor. Of course, Tanta Marie and Kathleen have offered, so I already have a few of the kids packed and ready!

Anyway, as Daniel and I threw around ideas, we got the the real heart of the matter:


D: So, where do you want to go?
K: Where do I want to go, or where can we afford to go?
D: Both.
K: Okay. I cannot go to far. I get really homesick.
D: We should go to Laughlin.
K: There is nothing to do there. Plus, we will be staying at your parents house and it will remind me of the kids.
D: Okay. What about Vegas?
K: Too nasty. Santa Barbara?
D: I think it is expensive to stay up there.
K: Any vacation is going to cost us some money.
D: You know, we've only been married ten years.
K: What's your point?
D: It isn't a big deal in the whole scheme of things.
K: How do you figure? I know lots of people who celebrate one year, five years and ten years of marriage by going away on a trip.
D: Yeah, pretty low expectations when you think about it. "Yay! We made it a whole year! Let's celebrate!" Do they not expect to make it very long? I know I'm going to be married to you until I die, so to me, it seems like we have forty of fifty more years to go before we really deserve an anniversary trip. Fifty years...now that is something to celebrate! If we don't kill each other by then...we will take a huge trip to somewhere really cool.
K: I see what you're saying. Ten years is only a drop in the bucket when you look at couples who have spent fifty years together. I agree with the fifty year trip. You're still taking me somewhere this summer. Nice try, though. I promise to keep it cheap.
D: And that, my dear, is one of the many reasons why I love you!

My Sunday Morning Prayers

6:30 am: "Dear God, please give me the patience to get everyone ready for church. Please help us to get there on time, with smiles on our faces and ears that are ready to hear your message. Please allow your words to feed our hearts and souls. Thank you for this beautiful day and the opportunity to worship you. Amen.

7:30 am: "Dear God, please give me the patience to find suitable outfits for all the kids, devoid of holes. We are out of breakfast food, so I'd appreciate some small miracle in the way of pancake mix found in the furthermost corner of the cupboard. My ears may not be able to hear your message as well as usual, because Ella has caused me to go temporarily deaf, in protest of wearing a dress. I am still grateful for the opportunity to go to church and have faith that you will get me to church in good spirits. Amen"

8:00 am: "God. Why can humans put a man on the moon but not make pants that can withstand the rough nature of little boys? Due to the lack of decent trousers, they will be wearing shorts to church today. Ella will be going in pajamas, as I am tired of fighting with her over outfits. Never mind that I burned my elbow as I was ironing my husband's shirt. I refuse to succumb to the Sunday Church Stress that always makes me curse the whole idea of the sabbath. I am going to church and I am going to get there in a good mood, dammit. "

8:30 am: "Oh God...I am begging you to help us get to church. I don't care if we are on time, I do not care that we had to make an unexpected breakfast run for food and are now behind. I don't mind the shrill screams from Ella as I try to tame her bedhead... okay, I'm lying. It is driving me nuts and you know it. Why today, God? Why does she pick today to fight me about her hair? Why did Phillip cut big chunks out of his own hair and make himself look like a doofus? Why are the boys constantly fist fighting? Why did I have to spill hot grease on the only shirt that I found to match the only pair of slacks I found? Why is it far more difficult to get ready for church than it is for a Saturday football game, a weekday of school or a national television show taping? Why do I feel like every time I try to make it to church, Satan and his army gang up to make sure we do not get there? Is this some sort of test? If so, I'm going to fail miserably because I'm just about ready to lose it. Grant me patience and self restraint. Amen."

9:15 am: "Thank you, God, for getting us to church. We aren't dressed to the nines. We are late. We do not smell like roses (at least not Reed, who just pooped.) We may not be in the best of spirits and some of us have even threatened to jump out of the moving vehicle just to avoid the "torture" that is church attendance. The kids may have pummeled each other mercilessly this morning. I may have uttered a few choice words while getting ready. I apologize for asking you to rethink the whole requirement to keep the sabbath holy. My spirits are not in the best shape right now. Furthermore, we have to actually get through the mass...and that is a whole new set of potential disasters and sanity testing moments. Please make the other parishioners deaf and blind , or very forgiving. Amen"

That's Amore!

We got the date night re-do that we so badly needed, last night. My mom came up and stayed the night so that Daniel and I could go out for awhile. Dinner was nice, the restaurant was not as great as rumor had it to be. After we ate, we decided to walk around the adjoining outdoor mall. I'm sorry to say, that I fell in love when we were on the walk. I'm sorry because it wasn't with my husband (hee hee.)

It was with a tool. I found the perfect tool for the next generation of blogging... a helmet with an attached camera! I'm talking about doing raw, uncut video blogging. The helmet cam is actually designed for stunt men, but when I saw that little beauty sitting in the Sharper Image Store, I knew that we were meant to be together. Daniel knew immediately what I was thinking as I gently stroked the gadget with a fondness that can only be the result of true love. He just laughed and shook his head. Yes, I'm an incurable blogger. Always looking for the next biggest thing in blogging. I can't help it. It's an incurable disease.

I'm exaggerating of course. I wasn't really in love, but it did seem like a really cool step to take in the blogging business. The best part is, the camera is only 99 dollars. If I save up my money and can squeeze me noggin into one of the kids helmets, I'm going to have the greatest, funniest blog in all the blogosphere! I will have to adjust to looking like a complete doofus when I wear it to pick up the kids. They may not let me wear it into church, the hospital and a few other venues. My husband may make me turn it off at times, but other than that, it will be constant footage of Prescott madness! I'm so excited!! Oh...and the date was fun too :)
Be sure to visit Humor Blogs, because there are other people who as obsessed with blogging as I am...and this just proves it!

The Big 500!

Holy shitballs! I've been so busy lately, that until this morning, I didn't even realize that I have reached my 500th post. Sadly, I don't have anything grand prepared to mark this momentous occasion. Wait...yes I do. I have a whole list of things that mark this special day:

1. Today, Ella turns three! Happy Birthday to the most deceptively cute girl to ever be so naughty!
2. Gilbert is doing very well after being hit by a car yesterday. He has only suffered a sprained neck and wrist. Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers for him!
3. Football season starts tomorrow for the three oldest kids. They are so pumped up to play!
4. Trenton turns seven tomorrow. Hmmmm....maybe it is something about having an April birthday that makes those two so cute/evil?
5. I've decided to start working on the book again. If I can write 500 posts, I can certainly write a book. I'll just have to force myself not to be afraid of failure. I think I can....I think I can....
6. I'm feeling so much more at peace with Grandpa's departure to heaven. I still miss him tremendously, but the depressed feeling is gone and now I only cry when I think of sweet memories.
7. My husband and I have decided that we need to get away by ourselves. We've been putting off the fact that we should celebrate our upcoming 10 year anniversary, because we don't have the time, money or child care. But we know that being a great team and great parents means that we need a good marital foundation. That often gets thrown to the wayside and when a marriage suffers, everything else does too. Soooo...Any ideas?
8. This one is going to sound absurd, but here goes...I'm gaining some weight! After being "too thin" for so long, I'm finally able to put on a few pounds. My mom told me that I was looking good the other day. Yay! I haven't heard her say that in so long. Since she is not one to sugar coat the truth, I trust her when she tells me how I look.
9. I haven't had much time to stress about turning 30. I know it is coming in November. I know that it is the same number that made me think that my own dad was old. Somehow, though, life is just too full to have any room for fear of aging.
10. I have met so many amazing people and wonderful friends by way of blogging, that I feel smart for deciding to start a blog in the first place. There are so many things that I feel that I do not succeed at, but this is not one of those things! This has been an awesome journey, thus far. I cannot wait to see where it takes me from here on out!
    

I want end this post by thanking all of you for being a part of the journey. Your comments, questions and words of kindness have always been rays of sunshine to my soul. I never feel alone in my joys and struggles because I know that in addition to having a loving family at home, that I also have a loving circle of friends in the blogosphere. It makes me feel like the luckiest girl in the world! Happy Friday, friends! Hugs to you all :)

RIP LCD

It is the only expensive thing we own. It cost a pretty penny, as far as we are concerned. It is the only item in our whole house that we really try to keep from being harmed (even more than our own children,) and now it is rubbish.

Yesterday, Trenton was messing around and threw a plastic knife. I saw it fly through the air in slow motion toward our most precious piece of technology. I could do nothing to stop it. Before I could even scream out, in hopes that my shrill voice would stop the flying piece of cutlery dead in its tracks, it hit the television screen. Now let me ask you this, how can something so expensive be so easily destroyed by a plastic knife? It was plastic for Pete's sake! He didn't hit the screen with a sledge hammer or even a spatula. It was a Fisher Price play knife. Yet the screen has this shatter mark on the bottom and a rainbow of lines shooting out from the liquid crystal crack.

Shouldn't the latest technology include more advanced protection against this kind of stuff? Can't those geniuses down at the lab invent some kind of armor like polymer coating to protect the delicate flower that is LCD? It just makes sense. Regardless, we now have a two year old television that is worthless. We also have no funds to replace it. We can either watch fragments of our favorite shows or learn to do without television until we can afford a new one. In the meantime, I will be composing a letter to the LG company, demanding know know if any of them have children and know that an occasional plastic knife is bound to come into contact with the screen. Since this kind of damage is not covered by the warranty (how convenient,) I will demand to be reimbursed for their lack of child proofing intelligence! Then after they laugh at me and hang up, I will be figuring out another way to cook dinner without the wonderful distraction that is Jimmy Neutron. Shitballs.

Please Pray For Gilbert

We got quite a scare this morning. I received a call from my mom, as the kids were leaving for school. It seems that my brother in law was hit by a car on his way to work, this morning. My brother in law, Gilbert, rides his bike to work most days. So when we heard that he was hit, we immediately thought the worst. Fortunately, only his arm was injured. Thank God for his protection over Gilbert and for safety helmets! So many people count on Gilbert's kindness and hard work.

He teaches high school French, and from what I understand, he is the most favorite teacher on campus. He loves teaching. I'm serious...not just likes it....LOVES it! He takes his students on all kinds of field trips, even as far as France. He leads the music at his local church, including the children's choir. His passion in life is helping others. We joke that if we ever need a babysitter, to ask Gilbert. He is a man who does not know the word, "No." He has a heart of gold and a mind that is capable of memorizing things after seeing them only once. This world needs him and I'm so thankful that he is alright!

Please pray for his speedy recovery, as he has a trip to France coming up in June. Obtenir bien bientôt, Gilbert!

I lied...here is another political post.

But this is a fun one. You know the drill...vote for your favorite. No matter the outcome, we are all going to be losers come November 2008!

Opinion Polls & Market Research

This is the only political post you will ever read on this blog.

I have never talked politics on this blog. Probably because I don't need the headache of people chewing me a new one over my political affiliation or views. But I've been pondering this and cannot help but ask you all a question.

Doesn't anyone else see what is going to happen if the Democratic party wins this year's election? Hmmm...if Obama wins, he's going to for sure, get assassinated* by those crazy underground KKK folk. They have been waiting for something like this so that they can make a statement about their continued superiority and refusal to allow anyone other than a white man be in charge. The writing is on the wall. Get literate, America.

If Hilary wins, she will also be assassinated*. But this time, it will be by the underground society of he man woman haters. "The Little Rascals" mysteriously dropped off the face of the earth after hitting puberty. They are alive and well, however and I know where they are...plotting their revenge against the biggest symbol of the fall of male dominance. Doesn't anybody remember how much they hated girls? They wouldn't even let Darla into their clubhouse and she was a cutie pie! Do you all honestly think that they are gonna let some dyke looking, husband hating she witch into the office with out some kind of attempt on her life? Not even Alfalfa likes her.

I'm not saying that I like John McCain. I'm just saying that he is a white guy. Probably a really shitty white guy, who has a cloudy past, a drug addiction and secret sex offender charge that was "dropped" somewhere in the US. But that can all be forgiven by most of society, because he's a white guy. As far as I know, there are not any secret underground societies of White Guy Hating Killers out there, unless you count Hilary's underground closet lesbian society. But none that will actually follow through with the assassination plots that they devise.

So a vote for McCain, is a poor one...but a vote for anyone else, is just a vote for another replay of the JFK, brain splattered all over the back of the car during a motorcade, incident*.
I vote for a redo. Lets just throw all of the current candidates out and start over again. Or...we can throw them all into a ring of angry midgets and see who makes it out alive. Now that would be an interesting election!


* I am not racist. I do not think that only white people should be President. I just know how crazy the KKK is. Also, I am neither condoning, nor threatening the idea of assassination on any presidential candidate. I am, however, condoning and threatening the use of angry midgets. Thank You!

Grab Some Oars!

I couldn't find Ella this morning. When I went to find her, she was coming out of my room. "I was going pee pee, Mom." She ran down the hall to the living room and plopped in front of the television. At least she shut the bedroom door behind her.

About an hour later, I went to get dressed. As I opened the door to my room, I could hear the sound of running water. Not a stream of water...a roar of bathtub water. How did I not hear it from the kitchen? I guess the TV was too loud. Anyway, as I got closer to the bathroom entrance, the carpet started to sound very squishy. Not good.

The whole bathroom was flooded. Even though the drain was not plugged, there were so many toys in the basin, that it could not properly drain the water. Now I have to figure out how to extract several gallons of water out of the carpet. On the bright side, I won't have to mop my bathroom floors this week! Oh...and I took pictures (of course), but the computer is acting funny...bummer!

Close Quarters!

In talking with my mom, this morning, she brought up the possibility of us having to move in with her until we find a house. I love my mom dearly. She is one of my best friends. I love spending time with her. I want it to stay that way. Let me lay it out for you:

• 900+ sf house
• two bedrooms (three if you count the storage room.)
• one bathroom
• 10 people under the roof
• one clean freak (mom)
• one slob (me)
• seven messy kids
• one husband who would rather poke his own eyes out than share a house with anybody
• one dog
• two cats
• two lizards

These reasons are enough to drive any family to hate each other. My mother must really love us to even think about enduring any amount of time in the same house with us. Either that, or she can't stand us and knows that any amount of time in her house would drive us to fight and never speak to each other again! I designed a special door mat for the week after we moved into my mom's. I'm sure this will accurately reflect her thoughts: