Sticks and Stones...

Dear Golden Boy,

Yeah. About last night. You know when I screamed at the top of my lungs when I discovered you and the neighbor boys flying down the bike path behind our house, racing each other WITHOUT ANY HELMETS ON???

You came up to me incredibly furious and angry, and told me that I was the worst mother in the world, remember? You yelled at me, and fought with me and argued that I should let you guys race down the bike path at a MILLION miles an hour with NO HELMETS ON.

I guess you don’t remember when I had to carry Bitchy to the ER when she fell off her bike while riding past our house using NO HANDS. And, when your cousin had his ball-sac ripped open last summer when he crashed his bike and the handle bars ripped it wide open- did we forget to talk about that??? Holy crap.

Oh, and when your other cousin’s best friend had to be LIFEFLIGHTED to the hospital because he crashed while riding WITHOUT a HELMET three summers ago and barely survived??? Yeah, I guess I forgot to tell you about that, too.

When you told me I was the worst mother in the world and that you hated me?

It didn’t bother me a bit.


Why we're disausted.

My intern and I had a great discussion last winter about why we were exhausted at the end of the day. I shared with her the book “32 Third graders and One Class Bunny”, by Phillip Done, which is a great book about being a teacher! (YOu guys know I'm obsessed with it. ) I suggested that we write down everything that happens in our first 15 minutes of the day. This would shed some light on why we are disausted. Here’s what happened that morning!

8:30 - The kids come barreling down the hallway. It’s not just our kids but kids from other grades who like to revisit their kindergarten teacher for hugs, and visit OUR class bunny!

Three kids tell us right away that Carly missed her bus-but her mom brought her.
Then, Julia is upset that she forgot her sneakers for gym again. Oh, and she might not be wearing underwear, either.
Ben is upset that his belt broke and he thinks his pants will fall down.
Annie is very upset because she hates all the lunch choices and wants to call her mom.
Jane is very happy because her grandma is visiting from Korea (for 120 days!).
Becky is excited about a loose tooth. Two others come over with their mouths open to show us their loose teeth!
Nate has a note that he is riding the bus home and will not go to daycare. (Might want to put that note in a safe and obvious spot!)
Julia is now crying and we don’t know why. (I have a sneaking suspicion it’s about the missing sneakers.)
Penny wants her shoes tied.
Rick tells us that he’s just feeling GREAT!
Andy wants help getting out of a too-tight sweater. (Have you ever tried that? It’s not pleasant for the kid.)
Jake wants to go to the nurse because he "frew" up before school. (Yikes! That’s never good.)
David wants a band-aid for his finger he cut the other day.
Travis is showing us his new Bakugon's, and bringing in anyone who is interested. (Which is everyone.)

Clock check - 8:43. Yep. That’s why we’re tired.


We might as well make a bad word chart.

"Mrs. Smith, have you ever seen the Austin Powers?"

Me: "Yes, I have."

Jack: " My favorite character if Fat Bastard!"

Me: "You shouldn't say that word at school."

Jack " You mean FAT?"

Me: "No, the other one. Bastard."

Wide Eyed Jack: "I didn't even know that was a bad word! Huh. My dad calls my dog that all the time."

Me: "Well, how about you just don't say it in school anymore, okay? Okay. "

Just another day in heaven.

Hey, Mr. Sign Guy...

Yes, is this the Department of Motor Vehicles? Are you the people that put up the signs on the highway?

Yeah, well call me CRAZY, but when I was driving on the Interstate yesterday, June 26, in 83 degree weather and I saw the sign that said “Bridge May Be Icy”……..I was skeptical.

I’m just sayin’.

psssst I'm also over at Ann's. come visit. she rocks.


B is for...

I bought this shirt for Bitchy several years ago. She was wearing it yesterday over her bathing suit before she went to the beach (in the CLOUDY WEATHER).

My sister (her loving aunt) looked at the shirt, and with a huge smile said to her, "Oh, honey, that shirt is PERFECT for you!!!"

She turned her head, looked at me and smiled. "Isn't it?" And with the flip of her hair, off she went.

I love that b*$@*.


Teacher Perks

As a teacher I am used to the age-old line I get every time someone finds out what I do for a living. “Oh, you get SUMMERS off!” I’m not denying that having summers off is a perk, but it comes at the end of a nine-month marathon we run with 24 children strapped to our backs.

Not only are we exhausted, most teachers are involved in school related classes or projects during the summer. We teach classes to other exhausted teachers; we teach summer school; we re-write curriculum; we take classes to maintain our permanent certification; or we receive new units and new initiatives that we must become familiar with and be ready to teach in the fall. Most of these activities are not exactly optional, if you know what I mean.

But teaching has other less obvious perks, like all the amazing people you get to know over the years. For example, on the day that your credit card is denied approval at the grocery store, it’s always fun to look up and find that the check-out clerk is a former student. Like when you go for your mammagram, and the woman putting on your “stickers” is the mom of one of your students. Or, how about when during a fun-filled day of tailgating you run into one of your students and her extended family. That’s always exciting, especially when you’re standing there holding your ice-cold refreshment! And, I always enjoy running into students and their parents when I’m at Target purchasing certain unmentionables.

In all honesty, I really do love running into people I know when I am out and about. (Maybe not so much when I’m at the pool in a bathing suit….) It makes me feel like such a part of this community, and gives me a great sense of comfort to know that this really is a small town. (Of course, my children refuse to go shopping with me because they claim that it takes me an hour to get through any store. )

However, there really are some teacher perks worth mentioning. One of the coolest teacher perks is having a parent offer a class trip! Over the years we’ve visited many different Oregon State colleges, toured the Ice Cream Factory, eaten delicious food at the College of Hotel Management, and seen beautiful displays at Smith Museum of Art. (It was a bit awkward rushing the kindergarten students past the huge anatomically correct statues, if you know what I mean, but we managed!)

Last year we experienced the trip of a lifetime!

We happened to have in our class the grandson of a certain football coach, who happens to be royalty in this town. We won’t be naming any names. Well, this young fella’s father (our parent of the year, after this trip) arranged a trip to you know where. Yes, I’m talking SMITH FOOTBALL STADIUM! We boarded a bus, zipped across town, and landed in a little slice of heaven. After a wonderful tour of the stadium museum (anyone who is a fan should go) we headed to the locker room-home to all the young athletes, so many of which this community has become so proud. We stood where they stood, and tried to imagine just for a moment the excitement they must have felt as they headed down that long corridor to the field of dreams.

Then it was our turn to march down that corridor. And, on a beautiful, bright, sunny afternoon, Smithfield Elementary kindergarten ran screaming out of the tunnel at Smith Stadium and onto the field. It was an incredible sight. We ran with outstretched arms onto the grass, a shade of green that even Crayola couldn’t name, under a blue and white sky.

It was an unforgettable trip. The children may not remember morning meeting or story time- they may not remember the cool science projects or math time - they might not even remember the name of their teacher. But I have a feeling they will always remember that glorious day when they ran out onto the grass at the stadium. I can’t speak for all the kids, but I can tell you that it made me feel like a million bucks!

Now THAT’S a teacher perk!


Who let the crabs out?? Who, who, who who...

We often visit a tiny beach here in Noank, CT. It is very small, and visited throughout the day by locals wanting a quiet spot for lunch, or by kids who want to do a little crabbing.

Yesterday we went over with a large bucket, some hot dogs (no chicken to be found) some string and a large net.

While Golden Boy was enjoying the crabbing adventure with his cousin and friend, his sisters were desperately trying to catch some rays on the grassy knoll beside the small beach.

There were two small children romping on the small beach, all the while watching the boys catching crab after crab. ( And when I say crab, I mean TINY CREATURE that might ONE day be a crab...)

One little boy exclaimed, "Look Mom!! A Herman crab!"

I felt like I was back in kindergarten...and I smiled.


Very Important Answers to Very Important Questions from Very Important People

A few posts back I asked some very important questions to the bloggy world at large. Well, it might have been a week ago, but now that I am officially on vacation I refuse to keep track of days.

After careful scientific tabulations (a few drinks, a few friends and reading the comments over and over) the following conclusions have been drawn.

1. People could care LESS if I post every day, and they post when they darn well please. So will I.

2. Most prefer an email response, which to ME is the most personal, and allows an immediate response, which may or may include some words that I no longer feel comfortable uttering on this particular space. (*@&$ it.)

3. Most people STILL don’t have their “handle” hooked up to their email. (Guys- you might THINK you do, but if you are not getting email responses from ANY of the blogs you are visiting, chances are GREAT that it isn’t connected properly. Go to your profile- then EDIT profile, and there should be a place for you to add your email address. You’re gonna have to take it from there.)

4. The sky is blue because that is Santa’s favorite color, and he sprinkles his magic dust on planes to make them fly.

Thanks for your participation in this little exercise; your certificates are in the mail. (Or they would be if people actually USED real mail anymore…)

Oh my God, did I just use a semi-colon? That calls for a martini. (And when I say martini, I mean vodka and Diet Pepsi.)


You drank from WHAT?

This particular story came from my friend who teaches kindergarten in Virginia.

She took her class to another school for a field trip to see their "pen pals." After the gathering, she had the class use the bathroom before they went home. Most of the children also took advantage of the water fountain outside the restrooms before boarding the bus to go across town.

Mrs. Smythe: "Johnny, did you want to get a drink here at the fountain before we get on the bus?"

Johnny, "Naw.....I got a drink from the one in there!" And with that, he pointed to the boys bathroom.


Where the urinals were located.

He'll probably be our next senator.

My parents like to mess with me...

Last summer, much to the dismay of my children, my sister and I went on a “sister” vacation. We packed our bags and flew to visit my sister-in-law, who conveniently lives right outside Daytona Beach!

For years we talked about a trip like this, but it took her family’s tragedy to make us all realize that today is our someday.

This particular sister-in-law of mine has a home in a residential neighborhood, with a lovely screened in pool in her backyard. (And a well-stocked bar, I might add.)

On this quiet Sunday morning, K. and I were floating in the pool on rafts, soaking in the sun and probably laughing about something. During a lull in our conversation I heard the faint streams of a beautiful song wafting though the trees. It was Dean Martin singing “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.” I strained to hear, thinking I was surely hearing things. As I floated, another familiar song, Dusty Springfield singing You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me, came softly traveling on a breeze.

I insisted that my sister go put on her hearing aids, and we got out of the pool and walked toward the part of the yard that the music appeared to be coming from. It was filled with dense foliage so we couldn’t see anything, and the songs maintained that soft but sure sound.

We decided to return to the pool, and as we continued to float on the rafts for the next hour we were serenaded by all of the familiar songs of our childhood. I could see my father and mother sitting on our back porch, cocktails in hand while listening to these same songs on the radio and laughing about something that happened that day. It was eerily comforting.

When my sister-in-law returned from church and joined us in the pool the music vanished. I asked her about the neighbors behind the forest, and she was puzzled.

The only music she ever heard coming from that direction was rap.


I am STILL laughing over this story...

I KNOW that I will not be able to do this story justice, but I will certainly give it a try. This was from my sister's neighbor that had me laughing so hard I had TEARS rolling down my face. (You fellas will appreciate it, as well, I’m sure…)

My sister’s neighbor, Lori, came over and had a drink with us when i was up for a visit. She was telling us about a woman she works with named Sue.

It seems that Sue had a blind date last summer, and was to meet the gentleman at a local bar. Well, the fella never showed up, and she ended up meeting another man named Joe. She and Joe cozied right up, and ended up on his boat that was anchored out on the Mystic River. (That’s where he was living at the time.) At about 3:00 in the morning she told him she needed to use his bathroom. He told her his bathroom wasn’t working, and she would have to go topside, and pee off the boat.

She went up, squatted down and stuck her, um, rear end off the boat to pee. Then, she fell rear-end first off the boat, RIGHT into the water!! She was yelling and flailing, and yelling some more, and trying to find a way back on the boat. (Remember, it’s after 3:00 in the morning.)

She FINALLY found a rope, and pulled herself onto the rather large boat. She went down the steps, where he had poured them both some wine and made some snacks. She stood in front of him SOAKING wet.

“Where have you been?” he asked.

“Where have I been? WHERE HAVE I BEEN? I was at the bottom of the Mystic River, you ass. Didn’t you hear me?” And with that, she chugged the wine, and went to dry off.

Yeah. They’re still together.

He's just a KID!!!

Ring, ring…

"Hello, police? Yes, this is a teacher here in Smithtown, and I don’t want you to think that I condone TATTLE TALE-ing, but I want to report a young child driving a Ford Explorer through our neighborhood!!! I saw it with my OWN EYES...

I KNOW he’s a young boy, because I had him in second grade just a COUPLE of years ago. He cannot POSSIBLY be driving!!!!!

What? How many years? Well, it has to be just two. Wait, um, maybe three…..well….okay I’ve been in first grade for about.....7 years. WOW! Has it been seven years? Then I had that boy my FIRST year of second grade, and I taught there for three years, so that makes…..TEN YEARS AGO??????

That can’t be right.

What? Do I teach math? Oh, now you don’t have to be a smart ass about it.

Jeez, next thing you know you’ll be telling me I had YOU…

Wait, what was your name? Bob? BOBBY MARSHALL??? The tall boy with red hair and freckles that was in my first FIFTH GRADE CLASS??

Oh sweet jesus someone call the Old Timer’s Home. I’m about ready for my room.

Go help out our friend Joanie.....


You've got a friend in me....

My very best friend in elementary school was a girl named Beth Fearnow. She lived two doors down from us on Lemon Road in McLean, Virginia. Her father and mine were in JAG together at the Pentagon, and our mothers used to love to host outrageous cocktail parties every Friday night. (Yep, we were Navy brats.) Beth and I were one year apart, and we were the best of friends – for many good reasons. She had tons of great Barbie clothes, loved to play in the creek in the back yard and didn’t mind getting filthy dirty, was not afraid of bugs, would participate in the torturing of my little brother and his friends, and most importantly, had two older, GORGEOUS brothers whom the neighborhood girls adored.

In kindergarten your best friend looks a little different than it does now. In kindergarten your best friend will tattle on you if you steal the lego-man, if you cut in line, if you take an extra handful of cheese-doodles, and if you color in your neighbor’s journal. Your best friend will wrestle you to the carpet even though he knows you’ll get in trouble. They will race you down the hall, walk you to the nurse or help you give birth to your baby doll in the kitchen free-play area. (Breathe, Janie, breathe! Now, push!) They love your red sparkly Dorothy slippers that you wear every day, and don’t care if the variety of skirts, dresses, leggings or tights doesn’t match the shoes.

We try so very hard in kindergarten to teach the children about being a good friend. We role play what being a good friend looks like; we read stories like Chester’s Way or Chrysanthemum that describe what friendship is all about; we practice every day words that you can use to show people you are a good friend. We decided to take a different approach last week, and asked them what they WOULDN’T do to their best friend. Here’s their list of things you would never, ever do to your best friend.

You never blame things on them if you really did it.

When you are having a sleepover, you never have a pillow fight with them.

You never kick them in their privates.

You never tell them to “look at that” and then punch them in the face.

You don’t take toys out of their hands.

When they are crying you don’t call them crybaby.

You never have a backpack fight with them.

You never pick up a rock and throw it in your best friend’s face.

You never break your friend’s heart.

So, in the beginning, we all know what not to do with our friends. Those things are glaringly obvious, even to a five year old. As we get older our friends become even more important to us. In the teen years, they become the center of our universe - they help us choose what to wear, where to eat, who to date, what club to join and what parties to attend. Unfortunately, the harder a parent tries to steer their children to who they think are the proper friends, it’s really the luck of the draw. We just pray that our children will use their hearts to determine whom they will trust with their friendship. (A lot of praying is involved, I’ll tell you that. )

As an adult, our best friend is someone you call when you have a free moment, someone you share a silly laugh with, someone you cry with, someone you drag to garage sales, or the Goodwill, and someone you vent with. The older I get, the more I value these friends who are so very, very important for my sanity. Your friend listens without judging you, gives you valuable advice without making you feel that what you have been doing all along is just plain stupid, and is there with a comforting cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on when the bad stuff happens. (And unfortunately, it does happen.)

“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” Henri Nouwen.

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

psst. don't forget to enter this contest....


When do we learn how to curse?

Yesterday was the last full day of school here in Oregon.  The second grade classes went up to the third grade wing to visit the third/fourth grade classrooms.


One of the third grade teachers gave a wonderful speech about what the kids could expect in third grade. 


“Boys and girls, you will learn a LOT about cursive writing in third grade.”


A second grader turned to his friend and said, “WOW!  I can’t WAIT to learn how to write all those bad words!!”

And with that, they gave each other a HUGE high five....














There is NO kissing in kindergarten

Do you remember your first kiss?  I don’t mean the one on the playground behind the jungle gym, I mean the FIRST KISS.  Mine was in 7th grade.  I had a crush on my best friend’s brother, who was in 8th grade. This kiss had been planned all week, with representatives from both of our camps. That Friday night we sat together at a Smithtown high school football game.  During halftime the majorettes always had the stadium blacked out as they twirled their lighted batons to the oohs and ahhs of the hometown crowd.  It was a long-standing tradition, and one that adolescent boys and girls looked forward to every week!  Well, the moment came, and the lights went out and then it happened, my first kiss.  It wasn’t quite what I had expected.  There were no fireworks, the earth didn’t shake, and those braces we were wearing really DID prove to be inconvenient.


This memory came to mind yesterday in kindergarten when I overheard one of my little girls, Janie, explaining to one of our little boys exactly how kissing worked.   “Well, first you put your lips together, and then you put your tongues…” 


“WAIT!!!” I shouted, before she could get any further.  “In kindergarten we do NOT talk about kissing.  Class, I think it’s time we go over AGAIN all of the things we can and cannot do now that we are in “big kid” school. “  I stood at the board and began to list all of the suggestions the children had for what never do in school! 


We don’t give free massages during read-aloud.

We don’t tickle other people.

We don’t put our hands in our pants or anyone else’s pants.

We don’t walk on the tables.

We do not poop in our pants, cause that’s digustin’.

We do not use potty words because they’re not propriate (We don’t even say pooh-pooh and we only say “p” when we are talking about the letter.)

We do not walk backwards.

We don’t get married in kindergarten.

We do not punch each other in the head because your eyeball might pop out and bleed and that would be digusting.

We do not pick our noses in school, only at home.


As I tried to squeeze all of these fabulous ideas onto the board, my little friend Janie piped up from behind me.


“Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Smith!!  WHY are you writing on the board, when you KNOW we can’t read?"

She certainly had a point.  I wondered quickly if I should tell her that watching me write left to right would show her how sentences flow; that each time I write a word I sound it out for her; that each time I put a space between a word and use proper punctuation that she is learning.  I knew there would be plenty of time for this information.  So, I just replied, “Cause it’s fun, Janie.  It’s just plain fun.”


Can we help our new little friends learn the rules? Can we teach them to be good friends, follow the rules, and that they should NOT be kissing in kindergarten?  Well, like the little engine we’ve all read about, I don’t just think we can.  I know we can.






Lawn update...

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you this breaking news.   Sassy discovered the culprit who "littered" in our lawn after her sleepover. 

Said culprit was instructed (and when I say instructed, I mean Sassy let loose on her and MADE her call me ) to call and confess/apologize to the said mother who was FURIOUS.  (Yet thankful that someone was being careful...) 

After a long and humiliating phone call on culprit's part, everyone involved agreed to move forward.  Frankly, it was a nice discussion.

whew.   That was a new one.  I am still shaking my head.  


I'm disausted...

In order to be a successful kindergarten teacher, one must be bi-lingual. You must be fluent in what we like to call kindergarten-ese. Here are some of the more common words used in this language, followed by a sentence in which that word is used. This might shed some light on its definition!


Disausted: Mrs. Smith, I’m disausted.

Shmergency: If someone cuts off your head, it’s a shmergency.

Chickmunk: Did you see that huge chickmunk?

Balentimes: Here are my balentimes, Mrs. Smith.

Bodder: Shoe-fly, don’t bodder me…

Udder: The udder day, I got a new transformer!

Invincible: (not to be confused with the real word.) If you can’t see me Mrs. Smith, it’s because I’m invincible.

Micole: My big sister Micole is mean to me.

Remembery: Don’t worry, Mrs. Smith. I have a great remembery!

Tomayo: I’m gonna bring my doll to show-and-tell tomayo.

Wunch: Mrs. Smith, I don’t wike what’s for wunch.

Wike: Mrs. Smith, I don’t wike what’s for wunch.

Towin:  My name is Towin.  (Collin.  Yes, the speech teacher will be coming in to take a look at this one...)

Fad: Is Fad here today? (Thad)

Nafanial:  No! It's not Nafaniel, It's Nataniel  (From one of our Korean students, talking about Nathaniel...)

Bomit - I'm gonna bomit.

Mushally - Mushally the moon is yellow, but last night it was red.

Betended - She just betended to throw up.

Cyean - We need to cyean up before yunch.

Yunch – We need to cyean up before yunch.


I fink that after six years, I’m pwactically fwuent.



Is there gas in the mower???

Things you do NOT want your ten-year old son to find in the yard the day AFTER you so graciously hosted the after-prom sleepover with a ton of teenage girls, most of whom you trusted EXPLICITELY.  


1.    Empty soda cans

2.   Empty Dorito bags

3.   Trash from other food items.

4.  More empty soda cans. 

5.   An "adult" item that shall not be mentioned here but is going to be getting someone into a ton of trouble.  Although it was meant to KEEP people out of trouble.  And people use them in the rain.  on their feet.  










Someone’s a** is grass, and I’m about to be the lawnmower.




Very Important Questions!!!

Since it's a Saturday and I don't have a post today, I thought I'd ask the blogosphere a question.  

I always try to respond to people who visit via email- if your comments are linked to your email address.  ( I highly recommend this, by the way.)  If I can't do that, I will often visit the blog of the person who left the comment. This will be much easier this summer when I have a tad more time on my hands. 

However, I do notice that people respond to comments by commenting on their own blog.  Do all of you do that?   Is that what people like?  Do you ever go back and visit blogs to see if the author comments?? Is posting every day too often?  How often do you post?  Is Santa real? Why is the sky blue?  How do those huge planes REALLY get up in the air?  Why can't I win the lottery?

If you could leave some suggestions I would greatly appreciate it...you may return to your regularly scheduled program...


This is how the French do it...

Every morning in 1st grade we have a morning meeting.  We greet each other, do sharing, play a game and read our morning letter.


Today, our little Johnny decided to greet in French.


“ Bon Joo Jane.   You have to say it with an accident, like this,  “Bon Joooooo.”  "

Oh yeah.   I'm back.  




Listen up, Ladies...

Overheard at snack time:


Edward: "I have someone in this room who is my girlfriend."

 Me: "Is it Katie?"

Edward: "Yes!"

Annie: "She broke up with you though."

Edward: "Yeah, but she didn’t mean it.  Rachel broke up with me too... a while ago."

Annie: "I would be your girlfriend."


Edward:   "Nah... You pout too much."  


Nifty Teacher Talents...

These are some cool hidden talents that I've developed after years of working with children.   Some are talents I never knew I had, and some are talents I never really wanted.


I can tell who had Mexican food for dinner after one quick walk through around the room.


I can quiet a room in three claps and three snaps.


I can tie ten pairs of shoes in less than two minutes-double knotted.


I can recall the first name of any previous student one minute into a conversation. (It takes tad bit longer if it’s during a Oregon State tailgating party at Smith Stadium.)


I can keep a straight face when Jack tells me the reason he is scratching is because his penis is stuck in his booty.


I can read the whole story that Claire wrote even though she used a few letters, some numbers, and a couple of Chinese symbols she learned from Hong-Bo.  (Pssst…it always helps to use the pictures to guide you.)


I can read aloud a picture book, reach into my pocket and hand a child a tissue for a large deposit while never missing a beat in the story. (That took some practice.)


I can fly across the room with a garbage can in less than 15 seconds without knocking over any kids. 


Put me in a room with 24 five-year-olds for 2 hours, and I can tell you who’s an only child. 


I can get permanent marker, glitter glue, paint and colored pencils off any table in the classroom.  (I know where the janitor hides the good stuff.)


I can put the teeny tiny arms and legs onto the lego-man’s body with one snap. I don’t even need my reading glasses for that.


I know who’s decided to “borrow” the lego-man for the night after one quick glance around the group that is  sitting criss-cross applesauce on the carpet.


I can swoop, make the pick-up, and swing around the child who’s ready to cry after her mommy left. Sometimes we even make it to the prize box. (Whoever said bribery doesn’t work has never worked with children.)


I can steer a conversation from animals to mammals to rabbits having babies to baby sisters to something not appropriate and back to animals smoother than any NASCAR driver out there.  (Let’s see Dale Earnhardt Junior do that!)


I can take a dead guinea pig to our resident guinea pig mother, replace it with one that looks NOTHING like the other one, and teach the children about guinea pig magic without skipping a beat.  (Her name is Mrs. Smythe- and she knows everything there is about guinea pigs! As far as the harsh realities of life- they have plenty of time to learn about that.)




I'd like a replacement, please...

Dear Dr. Zhivago,


Yeah, um, about that complete hysterectomy you gave me two summers ago?  I’ve decided I want my uterus back.


So what that it was filled with adenomyosis; when you took out my  uterus and all that other stuff, you also took something mighty important to my marriage.  (You know…the “drive”.)  And those hormonal tidal waves?  Yeah, I don’t like those so much; my family runs for cover and hides for DAYS at the first sign of a missed little blue pill.


So, if you could so kindly put all the stuff “back in”, I would greatly appreciate it.


Oh, and this time, try to sew it together a little more tightly.  We don’t want that nine-inch incision coming apart AGAIN now, do we?? (Sweet jesus, that another post altogether...)