The Wheels on the Bus Won't Come Off This Toy

A toy website called ebeanstalk has a group of child experts that help select great learning toys and toys for kids of all ages, from baby toys, toys for 1 year olds, toys for 2 year olds, etc. I recently received the Activity Bus from Plan Toys who makes green developmental toys.



Cute, huh?

Elizabeth likes buses. We have two Little People ones and a big plastic one we bought in Arkansas one year that used to live in the garage sale pile, but was rescued by my sweet Libby to add to her collection. She has also commandeered all of the Matchbox/Hot Wheels/cheap dollar store knock off buses as well. Sometimes, I might get lucky and hear her singing The Wheels on the Bus song while she's playing with them. She loves her buses.

So when I opened the package amidst my salivating children and saw a bus, I thought, DANG, a bus? We already have buses! I guess I'll have to run a giveaway on this here bus.

But don't think you might get a chance at this cute little bus. There's no way in the world Elizabeth is parting with this bus. You might be able to negotiate a deal with one of the others, but not this one. No sir.

I like this bus too. It's just....cute. It's constructed entirely of wood so it's pretty sturdy and it opens up allowing for easy access to the four removable seats, chalkboard, and two children. Sometimes the children ride in the bus, sometimes they sit in the pretend classroom outside of the bus and sometimes I step on them and it really, really hurts, but that would be the only downside I see to this toy.

Now I'm going to look to see if there is a school to go with the bus. Christmas is coming you know.

I'm Wearing Black Today To Mourn the Loss of Summer

Who the hell thought it was a good idea to start school before Labor Day?

I don't get that. I don't like that. I'm entitled to three more weeks of summer.

It's 100 degrees out. I should be sleeping late. Not fair.

And my kid's not happy about it either.

It was really nice to have the break from the bullies this summer. Jacob was mostly pleasant these past two months. No doubt because he wasn't being scared on a daily basis. The past few days, though, have been a little stressful. There were a few tears. The uncertainty of all that would be third grade took it's toll.

We spent the last day of summer at the arcade and the cinema and, of course, Waffle House. We were rebels and skipping the open house. NO WAY were we spending the LAST DAY at SCHOOL! But then the lightning came as we were crossing the street to the pool and we didn't have anything better to do right then so we went. Begrudgingly we went. Dang. We weren't rebels after all.

I am glad we went.

Finding out he was in class with last year's best bud, first grade's best bud, and many of his kindergarten buds really eased his mind. That and seeing that two of his bullies are in different classes and the other doesn't even go to school there any longer made his day.

And the teacher seems really nice.



She looks nice. Right?

I feel a little better about it, too. A little.

I didn't want to take him to school today. I feel worse about it this year than I ever have. I know how bad it was. I know how bad it can still get. Also, I just like having my kid home with me all day. I liked knowing him during the day. In my heart I'm starting to feel like a homeschooling parent. I'm just a homeschooling parent who isn't allowed to home school her kids. This makes me sad.

I want those three weeks.

So my baby started third grade today.



I taught third grade. Those kids were big. I have a baby. How can this be?

When I started blogging he was in preschool. Adam starts preschool after Labor Day as it should be. My kids. They are growing up too fast.

Do You Need Ear Plugs?

I can't believe summer is almost over. School starts on Tuesday. Big. Fat. Bummer.

Where did the summer go? I had big plans. We were going to museums and the beach and I was going to SEW! And I was going to teach my kid to SEW! Ummm.....yeah. Well, we did go to the beach. Once.

What did we do all summer?

We swam. That's what we did all summer.

Every day that it didn't rain (only 3 days of rain) or we weren't out of town (about a week) we were at the pool. The pool right across the street. Man, I love having that pool across the street.

I was really good at keeping the kids and I slathered with sunscreen. We never had a sunburn. But it never dawned on me that I should probably keep their ears dry until I got a message from the people at EarBandIt. I hadn't even thought of ear plugs for my own kids, but when I was nine or ten, I remember having the WORST case of swimmer's ear EVER. I got it in early July that year and couldn't swim the rest of the summer because my ears hurt SO. FRICKING. BAD. The next summer I tried ear plugs, but they'd always fall out to the bottom of the pool and I could never find them and eventually my mom quit buying them.

So when EarBandIt offered to send ear plugs with head bands to keep them in place, I took them up on it because I figured better late than never.






Cute, No?

And they even sent the right colors.

I really thought I'd get a fight from Jacob, he hates tags in shirts and his hair getting long so I thought something in his ears and over his head would send him over the edge. I was wrong, though. Jacob thinks the band makes him look cool and I think the ear plugs actually help his ADD by blocking out excess noise. He loves them.

Elizabeth kept hers in for a while, but eventually pulled the plugs out. Play-doh she told me. I never can keep the plugs in because all she wants to do is play with them. She does love the head band and I figure that keeps a little water out of her ears.

I gave Adam's plugs to my friend whose son has ear tubes and is required to wear them every time he's in the pool. He seemed okay with them that first day, but never would use them again. My friend's son, the one who has used plugs all his life, uses them without complaint. His mom really likes that they don't fall to the bottom of the pool and she doesn't have to buy anymore.

If your kid needs ear plugs to swim, these are a good product. They keep the plugs in the ears and the band even helps keep the sun off their ears, one place I always forget to slather.

I can't believe I have only two more days with my ear-banded, coconut-smelling boy. It's 100 degrees out. Who thought starting school in August was a good idea?

And I Was Really Hoping They'd Be Artistic

Remember when I got the duvet cover? The 75% off duvet cover that I'd been coveting for months? Two and a half years later and I still love that duvet cover, which will now be known as the comforter because, well, because I hate the words: duvet cover.

I like my comforter. I don't want a different one. I matched my bathroom to it. I've looked at other comforters, you know, maybe since we've moved I might want a new one, but no. I only like this one.



I love that comforter.

I also love Adam.





But I was very close to selling Adam on Craig's List yesterday afternoon after I saw this. Anyone in need of an in-house artist? He also does wall murals. Typically in the nude.

As if I haven't had enough of that damn Spongebob this summer, now I can keep him forever enshrined in my bedroom lest they ever cancel that wretched show and I should happen to *gasp* forget about him.

Because no. It won't come out.

For the record, I adore Spongebob like this:



On my linens, not so much.

When I attempt to clean or cook, things like this happen. For my birthday, I want a maid. Or *sigh* a new comforter. And maybe an art tutor for my obviously artistic, creative, seemingly paper-deprived children.

And the Winner is.....

AMIE

I do realize it's Tuesday. I tried all day to find a name picker doo-dad-a-mathing to choose the winner on Monday. Well, all day when I wasn't scrubbing my bathroom walls after my middle child covered every inch with very greasy, hard-to-remove bath crayons. The boys now have a pink toilet. Sweet justice, I think.

I didn't get any pictures of that. I was too stunned to use the camera.

I was too lazy to get the camera to catch Bethy choosing the winner also. In fact, we are all still lazing in the big bed enjoying seeing Diego again. We've missed him. That dang Spongebob. But I assure you, she was completely fair. And now if I don't get up and make that baby some breakfast she will eat all your names. Hmmm....that might've been a good way to pick the winner.

Amie: Send me your email again and I'll forward it to Jennifer at Jump Start and she'll get you all set up.

If you didn't win and still want to check it out....Go here.

Sometimes Silence Isn't Golden.....It's Red

Where are you, Elizabeth? What are you doing?



Where did you get that? How did you sneak into the bathroom? Didn't I lock up everything dangerous/poisonous/colorful/fun?





*sigh*

Fingernail painting is a an acquired skill, Goose. This is why you should get a good education and a decent job so you'll be able to afford to have someone else do that for you.



Ahem. This is NOT what I meant by "pose". We'll discuss this one further in the future.



Oh, you think you're really cute don't you, Lib?



You're lucky I think so too.

Need Something to Keep Your Kids Busy?

Before I was a mom, I was a teacher.

For sevenish years I shaped and molded a variety of elementary school children in three states. I enjoyed it. I was good at it. Some days I really miss it.

I was kind of forced to become a stay-at-home mom because my oldest was born eight weeks early arriving home just in time for my very short maternity leave to end. How could I leave my tiny premature, RSV prone baby at a day care less than 24 hours after his homecoming? Answer: I couldn't. I called to extend my substitute the next day. And the next day. Eventually I was fired. Although I could, and probably still can, teach the pants off half the teachers in the state of Texas, I am no longer welcome to do so. So what. I am grateful for my dismissal almost every day.

But I still miss teaching. Especially this time of year. I love the smell of new crayons and paper and feel the yearn for a brand new lesson plan book. Right now, I'd really like to homeschool all my kids forever and ever and hang art projects from the ceiling and serve lunch on melanine trays just like the old days. My husband, eh, he's not that keen on the idea. So for the summer, I play school two days a week with my kids. Where before I'd have sixteen kids of the same age, now I have three of various ages so it's hard to keep everyone interested every single minute.

A few weeks ago Jennifer with the Jump Start company contacted me about reviewing a new product. I don't usually jump at all the offers presented to me, but this one intrigued me. When I was teaching those Gifted kids in West Virginia, the only room they had to stick put us was one half of the computer lab. Well, it was that or the hallway. The teachers didn't like having to be forced from it during prime morning hours, but it worked. Sometimes when the kids finished their work and I had nothing else for them because they were so fricking smart they cruised through everything I had and I couldn't keep up, I'd let them use the computers. Being 1997 and, knowing almost nothing about computers, I'd just give them a Jump Start CD and let them go. The kids LOVED it. I was even known to spend a few too many of my lunch hours cruising through the fourth grade disc because I was addicted because I wanted to be sure the kids were learning.

I liked the program so much I bought the toddler, preschool, and kindergarten programs for Jacob. All before he was eighteen months old. And he loved them too.

So now Jump Start has a virtual web world where kids can make their own avatars and cruise through the city playing games and earning coins. I jumped at the chance to check it out and thought it might be a good educational way to keep my big kid occupied while I attempted to teach the younger two ABCs and 123s and all that stuff that's sooo boring to almost third graders.

Jacob loves using this program. There are different places in the world to stop where he can play games and they each have some sort of skill to teach or practice. Yesterday he was sequencing sounds on instruments ala 1980s Simon which actually does help my ADD kid learn to stop and listen.

Here's what he has to say about it:

Jump Start is cool. You can jump. You can play cool things. Also you can go through waterfalls and you can collect jewels and money so you can buy things like new clothes. It's fun.

Think you'd like to try it too?

Well, ONE of you can. I'm giving away a three month membership to the Jump Start Virtual World so you can check it out for yourself. If you're interested, drop me a comment a let me know your kid's favorite computer game and you'll be entered in my drawing. If you really want it, post a link to your blog and I'll give you two more entries. I'm going to let Monkey-Girl choose the winner next Monday morning so sign up before then.

Monkey Do....and Do

Aaahh....Elizabeth. My little monkey.

Have I told you how I now have to keep the pantry locked? How I found her one morning hanging with white knuckles from shelf five in an attempt to snag old Halloween candy? Or how we keep all the bathrooms locked to keep from scaling the counters to reach the toothpaste? Or how we moved our couch against a wall to contain her mountain-scaling attempts? Of all my children, she is the monkeyiest. The boys can't even keep up with her.

So I wasn't completely surprised when I went upstairs to investigate some panicked shrieking to find her completely underneath an overturned dresser. Now, I'm not saying I wasn't upset about it, but it's just, well, if anyone is going to turn over a dresser, it's going to be Elizabeth.

And for the record, Adam says she made him help her. I almost believe this.

So on Tuesday, we toured the new pediatric ER at our local hospital. We were one of the first to see it. We only paid $150 for that honor. And for the nice doctor to poke around my monkey girl's abdomen for about fifteen seconds and deem cat scans to have too much radiation for children and let us know the signs of internal bleeding, which if we happen to see any of those, by all means COME BACK. You know, you and your co-pay.



Watch her close now. Her kidneys may dissolve. Or she may be hanging from the ceiling any minute.

Of course this all came less than 24 hours after I drove Jacob to the pediatrician to have his palate inspected. The palate he lacerated after jumping up and down with a plastic stick shoved in his mouth. But FYI....blood comes out of clothing if you soak it quickly in cold water. And out of carpet. And toys. And hardwood floors, stair banisters, cheap laminate furniture, every rubberbacked rug, and also dog fur. Man. If you think pulling a baby tooth is bloody, imagine a two inch gash on the roof of your mouth. But he's fine now. Really. And the pink stuff only cost me a dollar.

I have no pictures of that, but trust me, you don't want any.

You know I can't leave the middle child out. That just wouldn't be fair. He saw the doctor too. He's been complaining or his heart beating very fast for a couple of weeks now. It could be anxiety over school starting or just noticing it while he's calming down in the evening, but either way, I wanted to be safe rather than sorry so his pediatrician scheduled an EKG and a chest x-ray. We were even able to bang that out while waiting for our ER tour. I'm all about killing two birds with one stone. Haven't heard from the doc about the tests, but I'm assuming no news is good news.

I do wish I had a picture of him grinning so sweetly at me with all those EKG wires connected to him. That sweet little Adam grin that just melts me. It about tore me up inside. I don't know what I'd do if something were wrong with him. Or his sister. Or his brother. In a second, Jacob could've severed his carotid artery, the dresser could've smashed Elizabeth's skull, but it didn't happen.

Thank God it didn't happen.

Letters

Dear Lady in the Red Camry,

Thank you for giving me the extra time to really work on my grocery list. I didn't think I'd have time to do that, but when you honked at me in the Penney's parking lot because I wasn't strapping my kids in fast enough for you helped me find the time. I was able to match coupons to all three grocery ads saving me lots of money. Who cares that I only went to one store? Lady in the red Camry, I hope that parking spot was as special as you thought it would be. I'm sure the six cars trapped behind you would think otherwise and probably all wondered, as I did, why you didn't just back up and take the space four cars down instead of idling there for fifteen minutes. I had three kids, packages, and a hefty stroller. If you needed to be thirty feet closer, maybe you could've gotten out of your car and helped me instead of giving me and my kids the finger.

*****************************************************

Dear Woodlands Resort,

I realize by publishing a non-password protected blog on the world wide web, that anyone can read my drivel. I'm okay with that. I don't find our lives or my writing so interesting that I think people would steal it's content but I guess that could happen. I mean, when you posted my link on your Facebook fan page without my consent for a little free advertising I'm sure you didn't think I'd notice, but it popped up on my home page just five minutes after I hit that big orange button. Didn't count on me being a fan, huh? When I commented on your link, the least you could've done is acknowledge me. Or maybe just tell me thank you. For which, BTW, You're Welcome.

*****************************************************

Dear Nickelodeon,

The all-day Spongebob fest is killing me. Please dispose of it. Quickly. I need more Oswald and Blues Clues and less Yo Gabba Gabba too. You know, if you ever have preschool shows again.

************************************************************

Dear Sony,

Is there somewhere I can find how to block out Nickelodeon certain channels? I threw away lost our television manual.

************************************************************


Dear Family With Ten Kids Down the Street,

WTF? Your kids are terrorizing our neighborhood. Everyone is talking about you. Get a nanny who speaks English and can discipline the hoodlums or stay home and quit roaming around the country under the ruse of "business". If you have enough money to travel 300 days out of the year, you probably have enough money to install your own swimming pool. Please do. It'll save you tons in legal fees because your teenagers are likely to drown someone one day. PAY ATTENTION TO YOUR KIDS SO WE DON'T HAVE TO!

(Yes, they really have ten kids)

*******************************************************

Dear Walgreens,

One hour photo means you get your photos in ONE HOUR. It does not mean you get your photos in NINE HOURS. My order wasn't that big. Neither was the girl in front of me you tried to blame. If your equipment is screwed up, don't assure me it'll be done in an hour, be honest and say so. I've never liked you anyway since you started taking over every street corner. You almost ruined my special scrapbook getaway. I couldn't drink my beer for NINE HOURS because I was waiting, waiting, waiting to finally get in my car and pick up those pictures. That I needed. Because I was fricking SCRAPBOOKING!

***************************************************

Dear CVS,

I LOVE YOU! Forty minutes for photos. Awesome.

***************************************************

Dear Laura,

Thanks for the Yuengling. I need more. Meet you next year for another beer exchange?

***************************************************

Dear Arbor Oaks Retreat,

Thank you for an awesome kid free weekend. Can't wait to do it again. But I have to ask? Has anyone really used this? And where'd you get the comforters because I need one.

One Way to Spend an Anniversary

Wanna see pictures from our tenth anniversary trip?

You do?

Well.....



Or even better....



So romantic.

The husband was going to arrange a little getaway months ago because ten years is pretty big. I think he's a little surprised I've stayed this long. Or vice versa. But anyway, we were going to do it up on our tenth anniversary by golly.

Two weeks before the big day he still hadn't scheduled anything.

So I did it for him.

My sister decided to spend her vacation that very week at my parents so I couldn't in good conscience ask them to add three more to that chaotic mix so I found a place we all could enjoy.

We went to The Woodlands.

As in the other side of Houston.

And it still took us over an hour to get there.

But it was twice as much work and I could've stayed home and done the exact same chasing for free fun. Fun. Really.

We had a nice view....



And plenty to keep us busy....






And there was PF Changs. Twice.



Okay. So that's not PF Changs. It's outside PF Changs. I was too busy stuffing my face while allowing my children to run wild inside the restaurant to the chagrin of all the other patrons and waiters. It was my anniversary, man. I needed to have some fun. I mean, you can just drink so many eight dollar pina coladas by the poolside before you begin to feel guilty.

Don't bother to wish me a Happy Anniversary though. All this happened almost a month ago. Nothing like being timely and on the ball, huh?

I'd tell you more about how awesome the resort was, but I don't want to give away free reviews. I mean, I could, but if there's the off chance the people there might see that I went to THE WOODLANDS RESORT and want to offer me, say, a weekend stay with free tasty breakfast to review their amenities I would not turn it down.

Nope, I would NOT turn it down.

You Asked, I Answer

I get tons of hits here every day from people wondering about Facebook.

A sample of some of the things Google sent my way are:

What happens if I ignore a friend request?

Do I HAVE to follow a friend suggestion?

Will my friend get a message if I ignore her friend request?

Did my friend ignore my friend request?

Never fear! I am here to help!

Thanks to Krys and her generosity with her Facebook for Dummies book, I can alleviate your Facebook anxiety once and for all Google searchers!

If you get a friend request you can do three things: confirm it and then maybe you can get another street for Parking Wars, ignore it and it disappears from your notification page, or leave it there to haunt you every time you log in. If you choose to ignore it, the friend will not get a message letting her know you dogged her on the world wide web, BUT, if she happens to go back and find you again it will say Add As Friend again. If you leave it there and do nothing it will say
Friend Request Pending and your "friend" can just think you never check your account.

The friend suggestion is just that. You can ignore that and no one will know the difference, unless the friend who made the suggestion is keeping track. If you request the suggested friend and he confirms it, a notification will go back to the person who suggested it.

Be careful who you add to your friend list. This winter I confirmed a request from a girl with whom I supposedly went to high school. The minute I pressed confirm, that "girl" planted a load of spyware and viruses onto my computer and until my husband could figure it all out and save it, I lost everything. I saw that everyone else in my class was friending her and I just thought I must be losing it for a bit and I'd surely remember who she was when I read her wall, but she had no wall. Just a bunch of saps "friends" from my hometown. I am now extremely careful. I know I have probably ignored requests from people I really do know because I didn't recognize their married name, they didn't have a decent picture of themselves on their profile, or they could have been internet friends who forget I don't know last names and sometimes only know pseudonyms. If you were a victim of my ignorance in that situation, I'm sorry, if you still wanna be friends, add a personal message with your request letting me know who you are.

Got any more questions?

Eight Months

I found this in my draft file. So it's a year and a half late. They're still cute.

I miss my little babies! When did they get so big?

If You Want to Soak Up the Sun, Use Sunscreen

I really love this neighborhood.

It's like being on vacation every day. Especially in the summer.



This is the view from my front porch. That's the community pool behind that building. We've been there everyday since they opened it in May. It's the reason you don't hear much from me.

It's also the reason we go through so much sunscreen around here. We've emptied four spray cans and two rub-on tubes since school was out three weeks ago.

I have to admit I have a bit of a sunscreen addiction. When I was younger I couldn't wait until the suntan lotions were stocked on the store shelves. I preferred the oils back then, all tropical and coco nutty and completely devoid of any UVA protection whatsoever. At sixteen (and eighteen. and twenty) I thought I'd get a tan. Have you seen me? I'm all red hair and freckles. My "tan" came in the form of a first degree blistering burn. But it didn't stop me from hoping the next time would bring the deep dark Hawaiian Tropic sun that greasy bottle promised me.

So I wasn't really surprised when, at twenty-two, I noticed a tiny spot on my side one day. And then two weeks later realized that spot had grown to the size of a dime. If my dad hadn't spent so much time at the dermatologist getting his own skin cancers removed, I may have just brushed it off as gross, but being the semi-hypochondriac that I am, I called the only dermatologist in my college town and sobbed into my new-fangled cordless phone about my certain death insisted they fit me in before the only appointment they could give me: four months from then.

He saw me the next day.

I was prepared for the lecture I received about the dangers of the sun. I was prepared to have that nasty thing removed. With a knife. But as much as I knew that spot was bad, I wasn't prepared for the phone call telling me that the hole in my side was previously a squamous-cell carcinoma and I needed to come in right then to remove a little bit more of the skin around it.....just in case. And then my dime-sized hole became a quarter-sized hole. Until that nasty thing grew back three months later and I had to repeat the entire process all over again.

So I gave up my tanning oils for sunscreen.

That dermatologist and every other one after him have insisted I use at least an SPF 15 every single day, rain or shine, winter or summer and that's what I try to do. It's not always easy, though, because sunscreen is sticky and thick and smell like, well, sunscreen. I mean, I love the smell of sunscreen and I could smell it all day off the back of my little water babies, but on me...ick.

A few months ago I was offered a bottle of skin md natural shielding lotion to try. I was anxious to try it because I am always on the look out for a cream that will protect my skin from the sun yet not smell like I'd been at the pool all day. Especially in February. Because that's just weird. And also, I was running low on my usual moisturizer/sunscreen and really didn't want to dish out the dough to buy more.

When it came I thought no way was that small bottle going to last through the month. I was bummed because I figured I'd have to go out and spend money again. The enclosed pamphlet said a little bit goes a long way and it was right. I only needed a tiny squeeze to cover my face and neck. I've used that little bottle for three months now and it's still half full.

I do like this lotion. It goes on light and is perfect for an everyday moisturizer under make-up or alone. It works well as a sunscreen for short periods of time, but I've had to switch to a 70 SPF for our mornings at the pool. We are in Texas after all, the summer sun is brutal. When (and if) I do run out of this, I will buy it. I haven't seen it in stores near me, but you can purchase it from their website. It's a little pricier than most drug store brands, but it'll last forever. Well, seems like it anyway.

I wish they'd sent me two bottles because I'd love to give one away. I'd send you mine, but that just seems gross and unsanitary. And I like it too much to part with it.

And while I'm on the subject, use sunscreen this summer. It doesn't have to be this kind, it can be any kind. If you need a deep dark tan try a self-tanner. I used them for years back when they made your palms orange and took hours to apply. It was the best tan I ever had. I even dated a guy for six months who thought I was going to the tanning bed every day. He never knew the difference.

I was lucky. According to the doctor who took the hunk out of my side, my spot could've become melanoma at any time. I was smart to insist on being seen when I did. A girl down the street from where I grew up wasn't as lucky. By the time she was seen about her spot, her melanoma had spread to her liver, lungs, and brain. She died four months later. We both spent our summers at the pool slathered in those sweet smelling oils.

I'm still spending my summers at the pool and the sunscreen companies are happy about it. We're averaging two cans of it a week. It's pricey, but it's worth it. I don't think we could afford the alternative.

Part Three

A few of you have asked what our plans are for Jacob next year.

Well.

As of right this minute Jacob will be attending third grade at his usual school. We have already paid almost three hundred dollars on materials, paper fees, and the ransom to hold his spot. I know we shouldn't base whether or not our child is happy and safe on money, but truly, that's a lot of money. Non-refundable money.

After the field day fiasco, which in all honesty didn't seem to bother him in the least, I was ready to pull him out of there that very day. When we got home I composed myself and made a list of our options: 1. stay there, 2. home-school, and 3. our local public school. Then I presented them to Jacob. In detail. I offered to drive him to the public school right then so he could look around (we had only a half day that day). We got as far as the parking lot and then he refused to go in. We researched home-schooling curriculum on the internet. That lasted five minutes. When he realized we'd actually have to WORK! At HOME! He wasn't as interested.

Jacob likes his school. He has a few friends and he likes seeing them every day. He likes studying scripture and doing bible study and going to chapel. I've found other Christian schools, but we can't afford them. We are barely affording this one.

We're not against public school. Our new neighborhood school is one of the best in the district. We'd love to save four hundred some dollars a month, believe me. I just don't know that things would be any different for him there. See, Jacob has always been bullied in some way or another. As a toddler at Gymboree he was pushed off the equipment and shunned by the other teeny toddlers who would run screaming away when he tried to play with them. I've seen kids wing basketballs at his head at church. I've heard strangers call him weirdo at random festivals, the beach, the library. Everywhere we go it seems some kid will approach me and ask me to tell my weird kid to leave them alone, that they don't want to play with him, that he is bothering them, that he's not in their club. Something. How do you respond to that? I used to take my exuberant son by the hand and lead him somewhere else to play alone. Somewhere with our backs away from the others so they couldn't see me cry. I still do that sometimes because I try to shield my baby from the cruelty that is other people's children. Most of the time, though, I tell the whiny-ass kid who is complaining to go somewhere else if he's bothered so much. Or not to go out to a public place if he can't learn to deal with others. In a nice way of course. It seems to work. At least the evil-eye usually does. It's just I can't be there at school all day to intercept the meanies for him. He has to take them head-on at school.

I take him every two weeks to see a counselor who I hope can give him some strategies to deal with the bullies and also sort through any issues he might be having that he doesn't tell us about. I do get the sense that he's embarrassed to discuss these things with me or his dad. Hopefully she'll be able to help him.

If it doesn't help and things don't improve next year, I'm preparing to home-school if necessary. The mom of one of Jacob's friends here in the neighborhood told me she was going to be home-schooling next year and is on the waitlist for a virtual school through the state. I'm thinking of getting on the waitlist too. Just in case. I don't know how well Jacob would work for me, but I do think it might be a good opportunity to learn with his friend and I like that I'd have someone to back me up and help me out.

But for now, Jacob's going to third grade in August to his usual school. We're going to hope for the best. But we're preparing for the worst.

***Edited to Add***

I DID talk with the principal. Not only about wanting to talk with the recess teacher, but with all the other things that had been happening as well. Yes, I am ticked about the teacher's treatment of my child. But after talking to a friend of mine who has already gone through this with her now high school kids, I was encouraged to back off that issue until the bigger issue, the bullies, was resolved. The principal is aware that she MAY have said that, but, of course, without proof....well, you know. So I chose to focus my complaints on the reason I ended up there in the first place: the bullies. I am confident, after our discussion, that Jacob will be separated from those kids next year and more effort will be placed on seeing that bullying isn't tolerated from any children. I think she'll make sure recess is monitored more carefully in the future as well. I still wanted to talk with the recess teacher. If I knew which one she was, I'd approach her with it next year even. I love my kid and I hate more than anything that he was treated like that, but I had to let that go. The rage I felt toward that woman was taking me over, I had to channel it in a different way so I did what I could. I also needed to teach Jacob that sometimes in life people are mean. Sometimes Mommy can't always make it better. But we can still be happy even after someone has made us sad. It may not have been the right way, but at the time it was the best way for us.

Part Two

Okay. Where was I?

So, I dragged my little kids into the school way fricking early thirty minutes before school started to chat with Jacob's teacher. Trying to have a serious conversation while also trying to keep a two year old out of twenty little desks is harder than you might imagine, but it can be done. Barely.

The teacher, as suspected, had no idea of the events that transpired the day before. As much as I wanted to go bat shit crazy on her and demand an explanation and some sort of repercussion for the accused, I didn't. I was a teacher. I never really wanted to do much for the parents who went bat shit crazy on me so I kept it together. I think the teacher was pretty amazed that a fight had happened without her knowledge, but not too terribly surprised. In my heart I guess I wanted her to say she'd call all those rotten heathens kid's parents and tell them all they were no longer welcome at their wonderful Christian school because, DANG, it's a Christian school and their kids are just not exhibiting Christian behavior so, too bad, it's time for ya'll to go. But in my head, I knew she'd do just what she did. Discuss it with all involved. Document it. Go on with her day with maybe wider eye open. I mean, she wasn't even there. What could she really do about it? I've been on her end before. There's not much you can do without proof. Parents, you see, can get a little cranky where their kids are concerned. Go figure.

But she did give me the name of the recess teacher and told me to talk to her. And to go ahead and talk to the elementary principal. And the school principal if I had too. Which is what I did. Or, rather, tried to do.

I had to wait until after lunch to talk the recess teacher I was told since, well, recess is after lunch and that's when she comes in so that's what I did. At 12:45 I went back up to the school and out to the playground to find four recess teachers sitting in chairs that weren't there the day before in a deep discussion. Two of them with their backs to the actual playground. You know, the playground they were earning money to watch.

So I drag my little children to their pow-wow and ask them where I could find Mrs. K. Funny, but they had no idea where Mrs. K was. I'm not even sure they knew who she was, which is odd since that's exactly where the elementary principal said I could find her. Interesting.

So I go inside and tell the office that she wasn't out there and, of course, they are pretty confused and I ask if I can just wait on her to be done and, well, I could, but I'd be waiting there until 5:00 since she had all the other recesses as well as after school care but did I want to leave her a note? Oh, hell yeah I wanted to leave her a note! So I did. I left her a note. I asked her to call me after 5:00 so we could arrange a conference at her convenience.

You know she never called.

But when Jacob's teacher loaded him into the car at pick-up that afternoon she told me she'd talked to the other boys who told her they were just trying to play with Jacob. She figured then and there they were lying because at no point in the entire year did they ever try to play with Jacob so she punished them with no recess time and were informing their parents. She also said she had a long talk with Mrs. K before recess who backed up the "we-were-just-playing" story and let her know that she needed to keep a better eye on all the kids. I'm guessing that serious discussion they were all having on the playground was probably about me because if I've figured correctly, my posse and I came trotting up about ten minutes after the teacher gave her the smack-down.

And in the car on the way home I asked Jacob if the kids had bothered him and he seemed pretty happy and told me that he was able to play without having to worry about being pushed off the swings or pulled off the monkey bars so it was a good day, except, well, for the part when Mrs. K. took them out to the playground and stopped them before they went running off like a pack of wild dogs to tell the whole class:

"Don't play with Jacob! He'll just tattle on you and you'll get in trouble so stay away from him!" "Now, go play everybody. Have a good time!"

At least this is what my son relayed to me.

I'm kinda inclined to believe him since Mrs. K hid from me just a few minutes later.

But, you know, I'll give anyone the benefit of the doubt, although I doubt she'd tell me the truth, so the next day when I hadn't heard from her I went to the principal and asked to speak with her. Told her my son had an issue on the playground and I wanted her take on it. I was told it was her day off so I could leave a note to have her call me. I laughed.

But I left my note. And let the principal know that I was still waiting. And waiting.

No. She never did call.

I'd like to say I kept after her until I finally found her and went bat shit crazy on her ass, but I didn't.

I got busy. I got tired of trying. I forgot about her.

I like to think that maybe Jacob misunderstood what she was saying to the other kids that day, that surely she wouldn't be that childish, but how can I know? Even if she were to ever call me, certainly she wouldn't own up to that.

So the last week of school my mom took the little two and I was able to do all the last week of school crap stuff without having to drag the others around.

There was a swim party/field trip to a classmate's house.

This is Jacob flinching while Bully 1 and 2 throw food at him. I guess they figured I wouldn't see them behind the camera.



And this is Bully 3 thinking no one can see his attempts at kicking my kid while he's underwater.



So the next hour was spent with me walking around the pool giving all the bullies the evil eye while all their mommies just gabbed and laughed and had a grand old time!

And after they realized I was onto them, they stopped and Jacob was able to have a good time:



I had to do the same at field day.

My kid won't be doing field day next year. Not so much because of the kids, well they were pretty bad, but the parents were pretty awful too. It's just sad when a dad can't accept that it was his kid who dropped the baton and gives his kid a high five when he yells out to everyone that Jacob lost the race for them. And his kid did drop the baton. I have it on video. But it's just a fricking second grade race. Why the heck does it matter?

So, YEAH! Summer's here. We are bully-free and loving it!

Intermission

It's taking me a while to finish the rest of my story. Here's a little funny while you wait....

A couple days ago I realized I hadn't been to Target in FOREVER and started to get the shakes headed to Target to get some things that we couldn't live without. You know, toilet paper, laundry detergent, the last season of Seinfeld on DVD, the important things. So I'm driving down the road and then the traffic just stops in front of me. WTH? I think about turning around, but NO, we cannot live another minute without swim goggles and teeny hair bows. So I putt along for a bit wondering if there had been an accident when I get a quick glimpse of a big orange sign. Roadwork. Of course. As I get closer I see the sign says right lane ends. And end it did. Right smack there where the sign was. Thanks for the advanced warning TxDoT. I guess I should just be glad there was that sign. I was thinking I was lucky I was in the left lane and, man, those poor suckers in the right lane. What are they going to do? Geez.

Well, I'll tell you what they did. They tried to squeeze in front of everybody in the left lane. Because, well, they had to. Because the right lane ended. Right then. Without any warning.

I did my part and let a white suburban cut me off. Did she thank me? Hell, no. But I had used my kind traffic deed for the day. So sorry to all you other losers right lane drivers. I must get to Target. My good deed, though, apparently inspired that dang lady in the white suburban because she proceeded to let them ALL in. All of them. So many in fact that when I looked in my rearview mirror I could see people moving out of the left lane to go around me in the right lane because she was letting every dang car on that road go BEFORE ME! Damn! That's what I fricking get for being nice.

So I wait a little bit thinking, My GAWD, what a crazy lunatic! surely she's going to stop this eventually until I could take it no longer and honked my horn and yelled, "Go, assh*le". And three cars later the assh*le did finally go.

I HATE being in traffic. HATE, HATE, HATE it!

You will all be thrilled to know that we made it to Target and back alive. I even have some stinky new lotion to prove it. I'd return it, but I don't want to go back there. Ever. Or at least until they quit laying that pipe or expanding the road or whatever they were doing wreaking such havoc on an otherwise pleasant day.

So while I was unloading our stuff I was listening to Elizabeth play at her little pink Princess table in the living room, jabbering on and pretending with her dolls and Little People as she enjoys doing these days. I thought to myself how cute she was and so smart to be so sweet with her babies when I heard....

"Brrrmmmm........GO ASSH*LE"

Of course.

She had lined up an ambulance, a dump truck, and some sort of 4-wheeler thing around the perimeter of those beautiful Disney Princesses. The Hot Wheels were cutting in front of the ambulance.

I tell myself that she is really, really smart to be able to replay the entire scenario and even use the words in their proper context. It makes me feel better.

So I'm going to quit swearing. Really. It's my New Year's Resolution. In June.

If Hope can give up smoking, I can give up swearing.

But then I may have to quit driving.

This May Take A While....

No more pencils, no more books, no more bullies dirty looks.

Or something like that.

Summer couldn't have come fast enough for us. I usually get pretty misty-eyed at the end of the school years anticipating my child climbing farther up the your-kid-won't-be-young-much-longer ladder, but this year, it was just, can we get this over already??

Jacob has always been a target for bullies. Even when he was Elizabeth's age the bigger kids would come over to make fun of his exuberance and try to steal his toys. I could handle that, though, pretty easily. We went inside and stayed away from the wretched little creatures, but now, well, as much as I'd like to, I just can't keep him inside.

This whole school year Jacob had his own personal bully. His teacher was the first to alert me to the situation way back in September and she assured me she was taking care of it. And she did. For the most part. Then bully boy got some friends, lackeys if you will, and things got a little worse. Not only did Jacob have to avoid Bully Boy 1, he was now trying to stay away from Bully Boy 2, Bully Boy 3, and Bully Boy 4. They'd corner him at recess and call him names, trip him, spit on him and then deny it whole-heartedly to the recess teacher whose stellar advice to Jacob was, "Don't play with those boys" before she'd turn around and continue gabbing with the other equally competent recess teachers.

So I'd write a note-send an email-make a phone call-arrive at butt-crack of dawn for a conference every couple of weeks to let the classroom teacher know what was going on when I went ape-shit crazy on those kid's parents. The teacher was as helpful as she could be, but really, she never witnessed the BIG things. Those little monsters were smart and saved their pure meanness for the lazy, minimum-wage making, I-don't-know-anything-about-children teachers.

But then a few weeks ago Jacob sat down to do homework and says to me, "C made me go behind the shed and fight him," all matter of fact because, well, it's a matter of fact that this damn kid is going to do something crappy to him every day.

And I was like, "Oh, no he di'nt"

WTF?!

This is SECOND GRADE? At a CHRISTIAN SCHOOL?

And after rehashing the facts over and over to make sure I was getting the real truth getting the rest of the story, it seemed Jacob told on Bully Boy 1 for walking up the slide (which here I just shake my head because, DUH, quit tattling unless you've been hurt! How many times do we have to tell you this?) and I guess the highly effective recess teacher told him, wait for it...wait for it...."Don't do that" and apparently just being told not to do something really ticked this kid off or, yeah, maybe the whole tattling thing, but still, he and his lackeys told Jacob to meet them behind the shed. Why he actually went is still unclear, but I'm thinking Jacob in all his immature innocence probably didn't know that was what was in store for him.

And it was at this point in the story my head started spinning around and green smoke started blowing from my ears.

"Did they actually touch you?" Yes.
"Did they hit you?" Yes.
"Did they punch you with fists?" No. But they all used their karate moves on me.

Uh. Okay.

And so after a brief demonstration I was able to determine that Jacob was karate chopped with hands and kicked in the gut by these self-proclaimed karate experts.

He had no obvious scarring from his first "fight", but what happened next is what really pissed me off:

"Did you tell the recess teacher?" Yes. I told her that C and G and K were fighting me and she called them over and told us all to just not play together anymore and not to tell Mrs. S because she'd just be mad at us so it would just be a secret. And then she made me sit out the rest of recess while the other boys went and played on the swings.

WTF??

And the next morning I was up at that school, DRESSED, at 7:30 waiting for his classroom teacher......

Blast Off!

Houston is the fourth largest city in America. Did you know that? I don't know what the actual population is, but I know it's a lot more than my previous hometown of 3,000 some. Houston. It is crowded.

For this I learned very early that if I wanted to go to ANYTHING, it had to be on a weekday as soon as the sun came up. I am not a morning person, but since I get up at dawn with the kids anyway, might as well take advantage of it.

A couple of weeks ago I thought it'd be a good idea to take the little kids to Space Center Houston. We went last summer with Jacob and Adam's been asking to go ever since, so I logged onto their website, discovered the earliest time I could set foot in that place, and we were off.

It's really not that far from us, so I should've turned around the minute I pulled into the parking lot and saw THREE school buses. But I thought to myself, Eh, three buses, can't be THAT bad, and in we went.

Oh, it was fun at first. My little Star Wars fans were delighted to see their favorite droids:



But we couldn't see the rest of the cool exhibit because it wasn't there. Wasn't due to open until the next day. Adam wanted so badly to see the rest of it and when one of the employees heard me telling him that we'd return in June to see it all, he came over to inform me that they were "having trouble" putting up the other stuff and "just to be safe" to come back in JULY if we wanted to see the ultra cool tribute to George Lucas complete with Star Wars! Indiana Jones! and Howard the Duck? Okay. Whatever. Never mind that they keep advertising on television that it opened LAST WEEK.

So in the Space Center there is this huge ball pit/play area/like McDonalds only bigger playground that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with space but appeals to my little ones because there are BALLS! and SLIDES! and that musty closed in plastic sweaty stink that is oh-so-enticing. So where do we head next? You guessed it. Because my kids are FOUR and TWO. What the hell do they know or care about space?

I'm thinking they may have had a lot of fun in it if they could've actually gone inside.

See, there were more than three school buses that day. There were HUNDREDS of school buses that day. The friendly guy who took our picture told me, aside from the exhibit not being unpacked, there would also be 3,000 school kids in that tiny place and, well, maybe we might want to rush through everything in the next hour and get the hell out before it was too late.

And by the time I turned around, it was too late.

Can you say, stampede?

OH. MY. GAWD. He was not exaggerating.

You could not MOVE in that place. It was packed wall to wall with children of all ages, adult "chaperones", and clueless teachers who had no idea where most of their students ended up.

If they could've gotten into the play pit, that's where they'd have found them.

Now, there's a height requirement to the playground. Basically, if you're tall enough to ride the roller coaster at the fair, you SHOULDN'T go in the tiny kiddie play zone. All the field trip kids apparently missed school on measurement lesson day. As did their parents. And teachers. And the two "guards" positioned out front.

It was rough, but I took my kids in. Just barely. We were lucky to make it out alive.




Can you see Elizabeth back there under that girl's feet? Oh, don't mind us. We're just playing here.

We stayed just that long because I was afraid Elizabeth would lose a kidney and Adam declared that to be the stinkiest place EVER and wondered loudly if those kids had ever had a bath because they smelled. Oh, man, did they smell!

So for sixty some bucks my kids got to play in the photo op and the tiny rip-off photo machine.....






And OUTSIDE with sticks. Just like they could've done at home for FREE.



And then we left. But not before filling out a complaint form and being belittled by the manager about how I was pretty much an idiot for EVER thinking FRIDAY would be a good day to frequent their shitty establishment. Because, DUH, that's when they schedule their field trips. And you know, on Monday too. That's not a good day. Or Tuesday. Or Wednesday. Or Thursday. And forget about Saturday because, Oh boy, is it crowded on Saturday. I really should've went on Sunday. Yeah, Sunday. From 10-11 because that. Is the best time. And if I look closely on their website and use my mind-reading tactics, I would know that if they open at 9, it's going to be a crowded day, but if they open at 10 it should be hunky dorey, and oh, yes, I do see where it says we are open at 10 on the web, but it shouldn't say that. Because this is a crowded day.

And at the entrance I paid the extra five bucks to get season passes.

Anybody want em?

Space Center Houston. It's over-rated. And pretty crappy.

To Blog or Not to Blog....

Alas, my poor little blog goes neglected another week.

Sometimes, I wonder, if my blog is like a sitcom. Have I run out of good material and need to bring it to a kind end? Was the birth of that baby my "jump-the-shark" moment? Maybe it was the move? Whatever it is, I'm in a slump. I fluctuate between wanting to come up with good material to keep the five readers I still have to throwing in the towel, printing it all out for the baby books and shutting it down.

I've been blogging almost four years now. Adam was 9 months old when I started. Jacob was in preschool. The thought of a third baby, much less a girl baby, would've sent me howling in hysterics. I lived in a crappy neighborhood surrounded by "neighbors" who just weren't. We stayed inside a lot, you know, to keep the neighbor kids from beating my littles up. I didn't know many people, I didn't care for Texas, and I was just plain lonely holed up in my house with a baby and a preschooler day in and day out.

I started my blog on a whim one evening after clicking over to other mommy blogs from an old pregnancy board I had been on. I thought, WOW, those moms are INSANE to just write every old thing about their lives for the entire internet to read! Aren't they afraid of someone finding them and killing them for no apparent reason? But it didn't stop me from reading them and it didn't stop me from starting my own complete with real names! Seriously, I don't think I thought I'd be here four years later. Or that I'd even follow through with it.

But here I am.

I just recently finished up being part of a product development community board. A certain company ran a message board in part of development for a new product for the past six weeks. They'd ask questions and you'd post what you thought of things. It was fine at first, but after a couple of weeks it got really tedious and a tad boring, but I didn't give up because I wanted my fifty bucks. Having that to deal with, along with my hourly daily jog through Facebook, took up most of my computer time. It was during this time that I was really thinking about throwing in the towel.

The last few days of Productgate, many of the women were making arrangements to join other groups together and starting threads about so many different subjects I just couldn't keep up, I mean, I HAD to beat Hope in Bejeweled keep my daughter out of everything she shouldn't be into, I just didn't have time for giving my input about my fave American Idol or what kind of diapers my kid was wearing.

Until one caught my eye.

The one that said, "Do you read blogs? Do you have one?"

Hmmm. Gotta take a look at that one.

So apparently the board chairman wanted examples of any blogs you happen to read, why you read them, and why you blogged if you did and I was kinda getting the feel that she was wanting some of us to review her product, which BTW, I have products I need to review, someone remind me before people get mad. Anyway, I was a few days late catching that one, so I got to read a lot of posts before I got to the blank section at the bottom.

Apparently they are NOT blog lovers.

If the site were still up I'd cut and paste, but then we'd be here all day, so I'll just summarize.

Not one of the forty-some people who replied had a blog. Some didn't know what they were, but the ones who did had very strong opinions about bloggers, especially Mommy bloggers. One post in particular really struck a nerve with me. This woman went on and on about how bloggers were just out for attention, they made up crap, they bitched and moaned about everything, they just wanted everyone else to follow their own agenda, that only weirdos would throw their life out there for anyone to read, that people who blogged or read blogs were obviously losers with no life and too much time on their hands. To which a few others wrote after her their agreeing sentiments.

And then I got to that blank box at the bottom.

I don't remember exactly what I wrote, but I pretty much directed it to the woman asking the question (although I really want to call out the anti-blogger chick). I told her I had a blog. That I read blogs. That blogging was a part of my life and I enjoyed it. I told her about my blog friends that I've never met in real life (well, except for one) who mailed my newborn gifts and checked up on me after my mom got sick. About the same friends who'll email me if I'm MIA too long. The same ones who cheer for my kids when they do something great and commiserate with me when they don't. How one sent us a goody package just because I was feeling low and another shared her awesome coupons with me just because she knew I'd want them. How all my bloggy friends help me see the humor in a bathroom smeared with sunscreen and indirectly encourage me to snap a picture instead of snapping at them. Then I clicked post and left it.

No one posted after me.

I'm thinking they were all sitting back slack-jawed at my candor. That or they were praying I wasn't being killed by some internet blog stalker.

And then I realized I can't give up my blog. Not only does it serve as a record for the many things my kids do that don't make it into the baby books buried deep in the recesses of my closet hole, but it's a link to my friends. Why would I give that up?

I want to blog more. But I can't promise that I will. The weather's getting hotter so we may be stuck indoors more, so it's a possibility, but I've decided not to sweat it if I don't. So I've lost some readers. Eh. When I started this blog, I started it for me. ME. And my kids. And I know my friends are still reading. And if they aren't. Well, oh well. I'm sure they'll catch me on Facebook. And if you want to see me whip Hope on Bejeweled*, you're welcome to follow me there too.

Oh, and while we're on the subject, I'm trying to comment on everyone's blogs at least once a week, but just know that if you have a lot of sidebar content, especially videos and such, my computer won't load your blog AT ALL for me. I'm apparently low on memory and it just boots me off and shuts my computer down. I'm not telling you to fix your blog for me, just know that I'm reading you in Goo$le Reader until I can get this fixed.

But I don't have these problems with Facebook, well except for Mafia Wars, but I never liked that one anyone.

And just to see how far we've come....one of my first posts.

See!? I was trying to get a decent picture even then.



*Actually Hope is whipping the crap out of me on this game and I seriously think she has some ungodly fast internet connection or she's cheating somehow because there is just NO way. NO WAY to get a score that high.

Grrrr....

Eleven more days of school....eleven more days of school....only eleven. more. days.

The worst part about having a school age kid, for me, isn't getting the school kid out the door. I have a 6:45 riser, he's always ready before me. It isn't even waking the other two kids who would happily sleep until nine if they could. It isn't even listening to their pitiful, tired screams there and back. The worst part is actually taking that kid to school.

THREE years we've been driving back and forth to that school twice a day. I'm actually surprised we've survived. THREE years and NO accidents. It's amazing, really.

I am lucky, of course, that instead of the forty-five minute trip I was taking the last two years, I have a five minute trip. Depending on the stop lights. And the other drivers. Just like last year, the closer you get to the school, the worse it becomes. Only now, since I'm that much closer to the school, it's ALL BAD.

At the beginning of the year, the head mucky-mucks send home a detailed map showing which direction you pull into the driveways/lots, where to drop off your kid, how to get out of the driveways/lot, and where you can and, more importantly, cannot park. They even have a nifty system with two, count them, TWO driveways. One for the students coming from the west side of town and one for the students coming from the east side of town. As explained by the principal in a half hour mandatory presentation, it is to keep things friendly and eliminate confusion for people trying to pull out and into traffic. Last year we came from the west side. We turned left into the first driveway. To leave, we turned right. Simple. Oh, sometimes it backed up and every now and then you'd have some yahoo brush your front end when he defied the rules and turned left OUT of the driveway cutting all of us waiting in the huge line, but it wasn't too bad. This year, we're on the east side. We turn right INTO the driveway. Easy peasy. But that means, we turn LEFT out of the driveway. Have I ever told you how much I HATE, HATE, HATE turning left into traffic? Well, I hate it. And as if that alone weren't bad enough, seems all the west side parents can't read or follow simple directions. Instead of lining up on their side, they now line up on MY side preventing me, or anyone else for that matter, from getting out onto the highway.

Do you get what I'm saying? Because I could draw a map. But then I wouldn't be able to get into the locked study to use the scanner, so what good would it do then? Just imagine poor little Andria and her band of merry children meeting their brush with death every. single. day.

I bought a school sticker and slapped it on my back glass at the beginning of the year. After being basically abused traffically last year by people heading the same place as me, I thought if others saw that sticker they might be a little nicer knowing that, HEY, I know where your finger's going. But, really, it might have been the worst three dollars I've ever spent. Seems like once they know I'm going where they are going, they have to see who will win. Or they think that since we both have stickers that I'm suddenly okay with letting them cut me off so they can get to the door first.

I started leaving fifteen minutes earlier and for a while I avoided a lot of it, but either my clocks are off or the crazy drivers decided to do the same thing because it's gotten worse. There used to be signs, lots of very colorful signs, with arrows and gentle reminders that you "might" be going the wrong way. Jesus loves you, you know. We're praying for all of you. I hope you make it out alive. Better you, than me. Bwhahahaha. Something like that anyway. The signs are gone now. Been gone at least a month. Did some traffic crazy Hummer driver steal them or did the powers that be just give up? Does this mean we don't have to sit through the presentation next year?

I want the signs back. At least then, some people followed them. Now, it's a free for all.

Today I attempted to take a right into the driveway and was completely cut off, almost hit by, a white Ford Explorer who turning left. As I drove into the building area, I almost hit five teenage girls who just walked right out in front of me. Tapped my hood even. Then they stopped and had a conversation with a boy in the middle of road while I waited. And waited. I would say WTF? but this happens daily. Never mind that they don't have to be at school for another hour. Who forgot to teach their kids not to walk into traffic? Ford Explorer lady? When I finally got around the flirtatious quintet, a powder blue Mercedes came from the other direction, realized, I guess, that he was going in the wrong direction, and did a u-turn RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I'm wondering at this point if my car camouflages to it's environment, but surely he heard my brakes squeal stopping for him. WTF? So I think I can, I think I can, I think I can make it the few hundred feet to the orange cones where I am, by decree of his holiness upstairs in his office, to stop and let my kid off when a rusty white Miata blew past me, yes passed me, and screeched to a halt about ten feet from where I ended up. All that hurry and my kid still got to the door first. WTF?

The kid. Got to school. Alive. In tact. Another miracle.

You'd think it'd be over by then, mission accomplished, but no. I am instructed to circle through the small parking lot across from the doors and turn right to head back to the driveway. I would do that too if there weren't so many cars parallel parked along the one-car-size piece of curb blocking that entrance into the parking lot. So I do my own u-turn. I have to. I am forbidden to go out the other driveway. That. Would be wrong. And discourteous to all those west end drivers. But, of course, that makes a man in a black Hummer very angry. Angry enough to shoot me the bird. In the Christian school parking lot. But I made it to the east side driveway. We're almost home kids! Well, when maroon mini-van moves out of the turning lane so we can actually GET to the highway.

But wait. What's this? Is maroon mini-van backing up in the turning lane? Did she even see that blue mini-van behind her? Wait, there's a spot, this dude is turning right and there's nothing on the other side, I'm going for it!

I would've made it too, if I didn't have to back up myself to avoid the cell-phone gabbing teenager tearing through the 35 MPH school zone at 60. WTF?

But I did make it into traffic and had an uneventful two minute drive home.

Made it just in time for the Dora to cease the squalling.

But, oh, how I wish the school had a bus.