Or whatever the title of that book is. 

Ours actually started out as a no good, very bad evening last night.  Putting it into perspective, I *get* that a grumpy child is not a catastrophe, but wow, was Kendrie ever in a cranky mood.  Blaine wasn’t feeling well, so the two of them stayed home while I took Brayden and Kellen to a SuperBowl party.  When we arrived home, the tears were already flowing, for a variety of reasons, but primarily, she was tired and crabby and needed to go to bed.

End story, right?

No.

She woke up this morning, angry with me because I had some volunteer work to do at the school, early, so she had to get up half an hour earlier than normal.  What she wanted to wear wasn’t in her closet —- BECAUSE SHE DOESN’T OWN IT AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU WON’T TAKE ME TO BUY NEW CLOTHES RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE??? —- and so Blaine washed a pair of jeans for her quickly, but didn’t get them dry enough, so then she was crying again, and hadn’t had breakfast but was clearly too exhausted to get up and walk in the kitchen, etc, etc, etc.

First I tried to reason with her, then tried being stern, then tried cuddling ….. nothing worked.

Then I saw this:

Clearly, she’s still harboring a little resentment about the move. 

I’m confused, though …..

She’d “rather be in Georgia, which equals love, hope, joy and happiness” ………..

But doesn’t want to live in “insert name of our hometown here” which equals kidnaps, murders, crimes, and POOP.

Hmmmmm.

Did we move to East Central Los Angeles and no one told me?   Since when is our town a den of evil doing?    The POOP part is pretty obvious because the entire family heard me bemoaning the mess in the den last week, but kidnapping?  Crime?  MURDERS???

Curious, I googled my home town annual crime statistics …… we’ve had seven murders total in the last ten years.  With a population of over 20,000, I’d say those are pretty good odds.   But how do I explain that to my melodramatic daughter?

It’s kind of funny, except it actually makes me sad for her to know she feels this way.

Hmmm, therapy anyone?

I just came home from a lovely lunch out with girlfriends celebrating one (much younger, obviously) friend’s 30th birthday and we had a molten chocolate cake to share and we talked and laughed and my day was going swimmingly and then I walked in the door and discovered that obviously I left the dogs in the house too long because one of them I don’t know which one for sure but one of them pooped in our “new” den and of course that room is carpeted because why wouldn’t it be and now instead of just putting on my big girl panties and going in there and cleaning it up I am totally stalling by typing this journal entry on the computer because I’m thinking its Friday and maybe I’ll get lucky and Blaine will get off work four hours early and he’ll magically walk in the door in time to clean that crap (literally) up himself and then I won’t have to do it because seriously the smell and texture of dog poop makes me want to vomit and the entire time I am cleaning it up I will be dry heaving and I’ve got the paper towels and a trash bag but I really really really really don’t want to do this.

Oh, wait …. is that the back door opening ……. ??????

No.

(damnit.  here i go.)

This is a variation of something very nasty (and yet, oh so funny) that someone shoe-polished on my sister’s get-away car at her wedding.  I was immature, and I laughed.  So sue me.

But today, I’m talking about my kids.  And how many days INAFREAKINGROW they have been out of school due to the ice/snow storm we got here.  I’m certain you people up north are laughing in our faces at what wimps we are, that everything — schools, universities, businesses, doctors offices, churches – shut down with a simple sheet of ice, covered by a couple inches of snow ………. but we don’t have the road crews or street equipment to deal with it.  There isn’t enough sand or salt in the grocery stores in all the land to clear the streets.  So they cancel school.  And I am forced to spend quality time with my children.  Hours and hours, days and days, of quality time.

Dear Lord, please let them go back to school tomorrow.

I do think I should get some good mom points.  I took them sledding twice, and put a bowl outside to collect enough clean, fresh snow to make ice cream.  Never mind that we forgot the bowl and never actually made the ice cream.  I have washed and dried more scarves, jackets, gloves, socks, and boots than should be allowed by law, and drove my children twenty miles to my sister’s house today so they could play outside in acres and acres of snow.  That’s right, the school board says it’s not safe to go 100 yards to the elementary school, but by golly I risked life and limb to get out of the damn house today and interact with other human beings.

I have watched approximately 7,343,857,477 hours of television.  There is not a single iCarly, Wizards of Waverly Place, Hannah Montana, or Suite Life episode that I have not seen.  At least eight times.  We have played computer games, and watched movies.  I even got desperate enough to suggest a rousing game of Yahtzee … thank goodness the kids said no.

I have cooked frozen pizzas, grilled cheese sandwiches, hot pockets, made soup in a crockpot, shrimp fried rice, heated up endless mugs of hot chocolate, and even made (and SHARED, which should be noted) an entire batch of chocolate chip cookie dough.  I’ve never been this Betty Crocker in my entire flipping life, and still the children complain there is nothing good to eat.

If I have to spend one more minute bonding with these children, I’m going to slit my wrists.

So here’s my public notice to the school board administration of our school:  I appreciate your hard work, and respect the decision making process.  I understand the responsibility you feel for the safety of our students and their families.  But if you cancel school again tomorrow, I will be dropping my children off at your personal residences at 8am, and not returning until 3pm. 

Good luck with that.

…. to the man sitting behind me at my son’s basketball game last night:

Dear Sir,

Shut the hell up.

If you want to coach, and yell at the players, then might I recommend you actually BE a coach.  I can guarantee you that rec leagues and youth leagues all over are constantly in need of parent coaches.  Yes, there is a time commitment, and you must possess a willingness to work with children, but the benefits are endless.  Shaping lives, shaping minds, the joy and satisfaction of crafting individuals into a team ….  I bet if you played your cards right, you could even get the league to throw in a whistle and matching beanie.  

But until such time as you are willing to actually BE a coach, then sit down and shut the hell up.  No one wants to hear you coaching from the stands.  If you know so damn much, get down there and do it yourself. 

Additionally, it stresses all of us out when you are telling your son to do something different than what his actual coach is telling him to do.  You are yelling at him from one side of the gym, and his coach is yelling at him from the other.  The poor kid is going to have a stroke.  Let me remind you that in organized sports, coaches trump parents.  So put up and help, or shut up.

Same goes for pacing the sidelines, and bad mouthing the refs.  If you know so damn much, get out there and spend some time as a referee.

Additionally, I don’t understand what kind of adult finds it necessary to clap and cheer when the opposing team misses a free throw, but for goodness sake, they are eleven years old.  Not NBA players …. jeering from the stands shouldn’t be allowed until the players are being paid for their sport.

So again, let me just tell you, to shut the hell up.

And one other note about sportsmanship —- when your son’s team is down by one, in overtime, with only a few seconds left, and we have the ball, we all understand the need for an intentional foul.  We all heard your coach call for it …. we all expected it.  Your son, actually, reached around, and very effectively, without malice or intent to harm, successfully fouled.  Instead of hollering encouragement to him, for doing exactly what the coach had asked, you found it necessary to yell loud enough for the entire gym to hear:  “By God, if you’re going to foul, make it worth your time — foul him hard!!!”

Really?  Was that really necessary???  What kind of young man are you raising, anyway?

Yes, in case you weren’t sure, when I looked behind me and mouthed the words, “What a jackass!“, I actually WAS looking at you.

And just so you know, when my son’s team beat your son’s team by one point in overtime, and I did my little fist pump of victory in the air, it wasn’t because I was so happy your son’s team lost.  In all honesty, it was a very good game … played fairly, by two evenly matched teams.  I was just happy that WE beat YOU.

So shut up and don’t come back until you can keep your fat yap shut, and set a better example for your son and his team mates.  Because something tells me this wasn’t a one-off for you, and I can only imagine how the other parents on your team must feel about you, week after week.

Toodles!!  And best wishes to your son, who truly did have a great game, in SPITE of you.

Kristie

Kellen and Kendrie, ready to attempt the first slide of the day.

Wow, Kellen got the hang of it quickly!

Or, maybe not.

Kendrie’s loving it ….

…and trots back up the hill for another turn.

I climbed up the hill to get these “about to take off” shots …..

… you’ll notice the rest of the pictures are taken from a “bottom of the hill” perspective. 

Kendrie is totally loving this ….

… catches some sweet air ….

… and discovers the true meaning of gravity.

Aaaaahhh, that’s my girl!

This is what happens when three boys try to ride down at the same time.

Trying again, guys?

Yeah, it didn’t really go any better any of the other times they tried, either.

At long last, one of the whole group together.  Except for Kendrie, who couldn’t quite get the hang of “caboose” position.

“Team Val”, kind enough to share sleds with “Team Escoe”, because we were just dorky enough to assume Rubbermaid bin covers would work as well as sleds.  (PS.  They don’t, in case you were wondering.) (PPS.  There are no sleds for sale in any hardware store in the entire metro area.  I know.  I’ve called them all today.)

I just typed a very long, fascinating  journal entry to share with you all.  It was witty.  It was entertaining.  It was profound.  Maya Angelou, step aside.

It was actually about how grumpy I get when I don’t have enough sleep.  Which is exactly the situation this morning. For very elaborate reasons that I was  going into, in detail.  Because I know you are rivted.

Then, I hit the back button by accident, or something, and deleted the entire thing.  However, since WordPress automatically saves for me as I go along, no problem, right?

Except, about three seconds after I erased it, WordPress did one of those oh-so-convenient auto-saves.  Which meant it saved the blank copy on top of what I had already written.

Yeah, that pretty much rocked.

So now, you get this drivel.  Which is not funny or entertaining at all. 

And I’m going back to bed before I mess anything else up.

Well, as I look out my window, at the sunny day, with a temp of almost sixty degrees, its hard to believe the weathermen have forecasted a winter storm tonight, complete with freezing rain, tons of ice, and 4 to 7 inches of snow. 

Really?

But in case they are right, its good to have a jump on things.  So I present our new state song, below:

 
SNOW…….klahoma
Where the cold front’s sweepin’ down the plain
And the piles of sleet, beneath your feet
Follow right behind the freezing rain.
 
SNOW…….klahoma
Ev’ry night my honey lamb and I
Travel home from work and hope some jerk
Doesn’t wreck our car in passing by!
 
We know we belong to the land
But it could use some more salt and more sand
 
That’s why we say…..HEY!
We’re sliding the other way…….YIKES!
 
We’re only sayin’
You’re slick as snot SNOWklahoma
SNOWklahoma, SNOW-K!

Kendrie:  “Who is the Social Studies teacher when I get to the 6th grade?”

Kellen:  “You don’t take Social Studies in the 6th grade, you take World Cultures.”

Kendrie:  “What is the difference between World Cultures and Social Studies?”

Kellen:  (pause)  (pause again)  “Well, for starters, they’re not even spelled the same!”

Clearly, when you don’t know an answer, the best BLUFF is a good offense.

Things I was grateful for today, in no particular order:

1.  A tankless hot water heater system, so even after three other people in my family took showers this morning, there was still plenty of nice, hot water for me.

2.  Plumbers who know what they are doing.

3.  Drive through mail drops, especially on days its really cold and windy.

4. Cold, fresh cottage cheese on the salad bar.

5.  Ginormous grilled shrimp.

5a.  Waitresses who refill my drink cup time and again, without asking.

6.  Elastic waist pants (like that’s a shocker.)

7.  The sound track to “Wicked”.

8.  A recliner that is perfect for napping.

9.  A daughter, thoughtful enough to cover her napping mother with a blanket.

10.  That the stomach bug that hit my sister did NOT hit me.

11.  Lunch with new-time friends, and the pleasant realization that we’re really starting to “get” one another.

12.  Dinner with old-time friends, who already “get” you.  Who in fact, have “gotten” you for the past forty years or so.  And despite that, continue to stick around …..

So, Kellen joined a basketball team two weeks ago … a little late in the season, but he’s filling in for a kid who quit, and having fun, and its a neat little team with nice boys, so that’s all good and fine.   (Don’t worry, there will be plenty of shitty, blurry basketball pictures for me to share later, I know you can hardly wait.)

His team had an 8pm game last night, and as is typically the case, the boys playing in the 9pm game started filling in the gym during the second half of our game, just like we usually wind up watching the second half of the game before ours. 

Kellen’s team uniform was red, and the team they were playing (or “versing”, as my kids call it) were blue.  We were winning …. it certainly wasn’t a rout, but I think we were up by six or eight at halftime, and the lead increased, little by little, as the second half played out.

I could hear the boys team, an age division or two older, sitting behind me, commenting on the game.  They weren’t being rude or disrespectful or anything like that, just commenting that our team’s offense was much more solid than the other team’s offense.   Not that the NBA is calling for ANY of them ….. just that we stuck together better the second half, and the other team got a little sloppy.

With just a minute or so left to go, the other team went up for what should have been a simple layup, and missed.  I heard one of the boys behind me say, “Switch to red!” and I thought to myself, “Well that was sort of rude.  Just because the blue team is losing, that’s no reason to insult them.”

One of the boys on the blue team managed to get the rebound, then tried for another shot, and missed again.

“Switch to red, switch to red!” I heard behind me, again. 

“OK, now, seriously?”  I thought, “Do you really think its necessary to badger the boys on the losing team??  That’s just poor sportsmanship.  Boys your age should be setting a better example.”  I would never have had the nerve to say anything out loud, but I was disappointed in their lack of class.

I oh-so-subtly glanced behind me, to see the boys who were being so obnoxious, and realized they were a team with black and red uniforms.  The boys in the stands were telling the boys walking up that they needed to switch their black jerseys to red, for their game that followed ours.

Oh.  Well.  That’s not so rude after all.

And that whooshing sound you heard?  Was me, and the gratefulness that rushed through me, that for once I *didn’t* let my mouth overload my butt.