Thems Fightin' Words...

I made the decision long ago when I started this blog that I would not talk politics. I know who I am going to vote for, I know who I believe will be the best leader for our country. This may not be the same person that you think is the best choice. Politics are something that I take very seriously... you never know, I may be Vice President one day.

Anyway... I have been standing by my decision to leave Politics off of my blog until I saw this:

"I'm not one of these fair weather fans,'' the junior senator from Illinois and presumptive presidential nominee of the Democratic Party explained. "You go to Wrigley Field, you have a beer, beautiful people up there. People aren't watching the game. It's not serious. White Sox, that's baseball. Southside."

That is Barack Obama talking about my beloved Cubbies, or rather, he was talking about ME as I am a Cubbie fan... in good times and bad. I go to the games to watch when they win and when they lose. I take it very seriously.

Too bad he is a Sox fan, I mean, I used to have a cousin that was a White Sox fan... we removed him from our family and he has not been heard of since (Irish Catholics don't fool around.)

One more thing... I think this White Sox fan throws like a wimp. My five-year old daughter can toss out a ball with more strength. My Grandma-a Cubbie's fan-could toss out a ball harder than him... and she is dead!

I'm just sayin'

But I'm not talking about Politics here, I am just mentioning a person who happens to be running for President. I am not discussing his policies, I am discussing his shortcomings as a White Sox fan.

Pitiful.

Curse You Mother Nature...

It was a sad sad day yesterday. Aaron has baseball practice at the city park every Wednesday night. This park has everything to offer... baseball and softball fields, tennis courts, playgrounds, duck pond, swimming pool, go-cart course, bowling alley, skateboarding ramps, and yes... sand volleyball pits.

Every Wednesday when I drive by to take Aaron to play ball, there has always been a group of men playing on the sand volleyball pit. It is always hot so these guys all have their shirts off. I'm sorry, but I could not help but look... you would too!

I always forget that they will be there until I am pleasantly surprised each Wednesday when I turn the corner onto a little path and there they are, in all their glory, sweating and shirtless, playing volleyball. It is the little things in life that make me happy.

Well, yesterday was a little chilly and when I turned the corner I was not greeted by my usual Top Gun scenario. No, I was greeted by just a bunch of guys in sweatpants and t-shirts playing an ordinary game of sand volleyball. Big stinkin' deal.

I hope we get an Indian Summer this year-one that will bring warm breezes and pleasant sunshine. One that will force the men who are playing sand volleyball to remove their shirts and play the game the way God intended it to be played. That is all I ask.

Yo Quiero Taco Bell

Hope's Spanish teacher called this morning. It seems I have robbed my children of being able to ever succeed in the good ol' USofA. I did not teach my daughter Spanish... I taught her Latin.

She is 3 years behind her peers in her Spanish class. Her Spanish teacher says that she needs to catch up or she will have a really hard time once she gets into high school.

I tried to get a few brownie points for Hope by pointing out that her father is half Puerto Rican, making Hope a Quarter Rican... but the Spanish teacher did not think I was funny.

Please respond in Spanish only for your comments. I am taking the cold turkey approach to learning Spanish. grassy ass.

Where For Art Thou Romeo?

This really does suck you know. Sure, sure, I am supposed to be the strong military wife that we all like to imagine. The one who can handle everything that comes her way while her better half is on the other side of the world. Sounds romantic doesn't it? The strong wife keeping things afloat at home while her soldier is fighting for those less fortunate? Well... it isn't.

Today was a bad day. The kids are making me go crazy. Seriously... crazy. The older two cannot say a kind word to one another if you paid them. If she says the sky is blue he says it is a aqua hue. If he says he brushed his teeth, she pretends to pass out from the smell of his breath. If she says that she needs another bottle of acne cream, he falls over laughing and pointing at her. I was tempted to put duct tape over their mouths earlier... I would have too if I could have found the duct tape, but all I could find was Hello Kitty band-aids. They weren't even waterproof.

The 5 year old has decided to be a dog for the past few days... a dog that has just had a litter of puppies and is lactating. That is right. She lays on her side and "attaches" little stuffed puppies to her tummy and says she is feeding them. She also pretends to go potty outside when I let the "real" dog in the house out. What are the neighbors thinking? At least she isn't barking at people. My friend's daughter used to bark at me when I would say hello to her. "Hi Susie, how are you today?" "Ruff Ruff" "Nice dog Susie."

The baby is teething, which means she has a runny nose and slobbers all over everything she is wearing. I can't really complain about her though because she is a baby and that trumps anything bad that can be going on. One look at her and I melt-thank God for babies.

It does not help that I feel so disconnected from my husband. 15-20 minute phone calls every other day are just not hacking it. I mean, I am a woman who likes to speak her 25,000 allotted words a day and now I have no one to listen to my theories on why I think Angelina Jolie eats only cottage cheese and laxatives and how the speed limit should be raised 10 mph if you have to go to the bathroom really bad. I cornered the mailman the other day and started telling him a story about unclogging my son's toilet until I realized he was slowly backing away from me and trying to slide into his little square mailman car.

We have tried to IM (that is "instant message" for all of you readers out there who only come on-line to read my blog and check the weather) but he will be knocked off -line every 30 seconds or so and after I have written a small novel about life out here I will realize that it is all one-sided and he hasn't gotten any of it.

So if I start writing blogs about the water bill or what I am going to cook for dinner, just understand it is because I am in need of an outlet other than BBC's "You Are What You Eat."

I miss my husband... not just because it is lonely at night, but because I don't have anyone to listen to me talk. Oh, and because he used to hang up all of the clothes that I throw on the floor of our closet and now I can't even see the floor and I have nothing to wear. It would be nice to have the bathroom trash emptied as well... and my bedside table lamp light bulb has burned out and now I have to turn the bright 100W overhead light on... and my van needs gas.

*Big Sigh*

He Can't Help But Be Beautiful...

Beauty runs in my family. We can't help it... God just loves us more than most.



Here is a picture that Cousin Steve sent to me tonight. His wife took it while on vacation at Lake Michigan.



Go ahead... be jealous. You know you want a camouflage hat just like his. We have been trying to get him to put a shirt on for years now. Thank goodness we finally got him to stop fishing in the nude.

It All Makes Sense Now...

Oh boy, Oh boy, Oh boy... apparently Oh BIG boy!

Matthew McConaughey's father died having sex with his mom, Mama McConaughey says in her new book, "I Amaze Myself!"
“On Monday mornings, he and I often said goodbye by making love,” Kay McConaughey tells Us Weekly. “But one day, all of a sudden, it just happened. I knew that something was wrong, because I didn’t hear anything from him. Just nothing," she says. "But it was just the best way to go!”
When her husband couldn’t be revived, she made sure he was taken from the house in the nude.
“I was just so proud to show off my big old Jim McConaughey — and his gift,” she says.
Kay McConaughey also says her famous son, 38, was a happy accident. It was just after she’d married Matthew’s dad for the third time.
“I was deciding, ‘Do I want to have another baby? Do I want to have an affair? Or go back to school?’” she says. “That’s when Matthew was conceived. We had tried for 16 years and no baby. So Matthew was a big surprise!”

I love how she knew something was wrong because she didn't hear anything. I would think that her first clue would have been the dead weight on top of her. Was that too crude? I apologize. I just can't stop giggling at this though.

Just the other day I was asking myself three questions. They weren't like Mrs. McConaughey's questions, "Hmmmm, I just don't know... should I have a baby? Maybe an affair? Oh, but maybe I should go back to school." No, my three questions were, "Should I have a salad for dinner? Maybe chicken? Why not a M&M Blizzard!"

If Matthew is anything like his dad... well I am just going to keep my mouth shut because I don't want to offend any of you. Oh who am I kidding? If Matthew is anything like his dad then no wonder his baby's mama is always smiling. That is all I am going to say... I promise. Except for the fact that all I keep hearing in my head is "Thank you Sir! May I have another!"

I couldn't help myself. My husband is gone and I am ovulating... my mind is a little fuzzy right now.

It is obvious that the apple does not fall far from the tree in the McConaughey family... I just wonder if the tree is behemoth because of all of the placentas buried under it.

Thanks Joy @ southernjoy

Do You Really Need Algebra To Balance Your Checkbook?

I came to a startling realization today. As I sat at the kitchen table and looked over Hope's Algebra homework, by question 4 I had to ask her to fetch me my calculator... and quick! I used to think I was good at math-I even thought that I had inherited my Grandpa Mac's mathematician mind... but I was wrong. Horribly, horribly wrong.

The one thing missing was the Teacher's Manual for Algebra.

Schools should really hand those out to parents. It would make helping your child much easier... that way your kid does not think you are math inept and can barely balance a checkbook.

Between you and me... homeschooling was much easier.

#1 I had teacher manuals that gave me all of the answers making me look like a GENIUS.

#2 We didn't have to wake up at O'dark thirty in order to get dressed, eat breakfast, drive to school, wait for 20 minutes in the drop off line, and wait 30 minutes to maneuver out of the parking lot.

#3 We could do school in our pj's.

#4 We could do school when we were sick laying on the couch under warm blankets and hot tea by our side.

#5 There was no homework.

#6 There was no homework.

#7 Did I mention that there was no homework?

But we love school... we really do. It makes life easier... it really does. You believe me right?

In other parts of my life... have you ever gone to a School Fundraiser at a restaurant? The kind where all of the families in the school go to a certain restaurant and your school gets part of the money that you spend? These are great aren't they? Especially when you go to a Catholic School where all of the families have no less than 4 kids each and they are all running around rampant at the local pizza joint. It is enough to drive a woman who is trying to remember Algebra over the edge.

Thank God pizza joints serve beer. Beer is good... by the end of dinner I was saying "Children? What children?" Oh... and I may have said "Algebra? What do you need Algebra for? You'll never use it again-I promise!"

Stupid beer at the pizza joint. At least the school will be able to buy a few new computers with my bar tab. Score!

Fist Came Printing, Then Came Cursive, Then Came The Baby In The Text...

Apparently I cannot win. Do children print, write cursive, instant message, text, do hand signs, send up smoke signals, or perform interpretive dance in order to communicate what they know? Which of these will get them a good grade in school? Please someone-ANYONE-tell me.

We all know that I have homeschooled my children for 4 years and this year they are back in school. I taught Aaron cursive writing, but I never enforced it. He printed most days and as long as he was learning I was not concerned with him not cursive writing. Well... now that he is in school his teachers insist upon cursive writing. This has stressed him out so he and I sit at the table each night and practice... practice... practice.

When Hope was a little girl we lived in England. She started her educational career in British schools. There she was taught "connected writing" or cursive writing right off the bat. They did not teach printing-only cursive. When we moved back to the states Hope was in second grade and the teacher insisted that she print and not write in cursive. That stressed her out and she and I sat at the table each night and practiced.. practiced... practiced.

Both Hope and Aaron are taking computer classes. This is where they teach the kids how to use a keyboard and a (you guessed it) computer. This is stressing my children out because I am not a big fan of kids being on the computer until they are older so they have really not been exposed to a keyboard. So now we sit at the table each night and practice... practice... practice.

Hope is in 8th grade and no longer has to write in cursive.

Aaron is in 5th grade and can only write in cursive.

What the hell ever happened to just knowing the friggen answer and being right? Good Lord above.

What Day Is It? Does It Really Matter...

Man oh man... I looked at this here blog today and realized that I had not even posted in at least a year. I am sorry... I don't know what came over me.

Oh wait, I remember... my children started school for the first time in 4 years this week. I also had a nervous breakdown. It was a long week.

Hope loves school. She thinks that organized education in a building other than her home is the most wonderful invention since the ipod. Aaron on the other hand thinks that education should be done at home, by his mother, and preferably after 9 a.m. He told me today that he had a great day because he figured out that if he doesn't raise his hand he can get through an entire day without his teacher talking to him.

This is where my nervous break down comes in.

That and the fact that we have activities out the wazoo.

When Carl and I were first married and had one measly little child that only slept, ate and pooped, we would look around at the parents with older children who lived their lives in their cars driving their children from one destination to another and say to ourselves, "We will NEVER be like that!" We were so stupid to think that we would never have to be a part of the rat race that I have come to know as "I chauffeur therefore I am."

We have numerous activities every night of the week... and Saturday mornings. I know! Crazy!

Today when Hope came home from school she found out that her riding lesson had been rescheduled so that meant that we did not have to go anywhere. I made her repeat that to me 5 times and once backwards before I believed her. It was not until she said "tonight riding no have I" did I completely relax and jump for joy. I went directly to my bedroom and took off my bra for the evening. Years ago that would have been the START of a great evening, now taking off my bra means that the puppies are hanging low so I need to lay on the couch in order to even things out.

Tomorrow the rat race commences. We have softball, baseball, a slumber party to attend and Sesame Street tickets. My life is so luxurious that sometimes I have to just pinch myself...

The Sound Of Freedom...

All of my life I have been the person with connections. I have met important people, shook hands with high rollers, partied with rock stars, schmoozed with supermodels, dined with political powerhouses, and may have even slipped my phone number to a Chicago Bear or two (Brian Urlacher if you are reading this, it's too late. I'm happily married)... so it was a little strange for me to have to rely on my little sister's connections with a few of the Thunderbird Pilots in order to get some great photos for my kid.

My sister Claire is in town. She is married to a F-16 pilot. I introduced them. They fell in love thanks to me. Anyway... the F-16 world being as small as it is, her husband is friends with a few of the Thunderbirds. Our friend Steffie is in town as well. When Steffie found out that Claire personally knew a few of the pilots she started running for the front of the line. She may have even plowed over a kid or two to get to meet these guys. I don't know why. It is not like they are good looking or anything.

I don't know what this guys name is... but does it really matter? If you know who this is please comment. I wonder if his wife reads my blog. If you are his wife and you are reading my blog please comment and tell us all about how your husband likes to take long walks along the beach and gaze into your eyes for hours by the fire.

Do you think they make their flight suits special for them? They sure do fit nicely.

I am actually taking a photo of the plane behind him... he is just in the way. See how he was laughing? I was telling him a joke. Military men like it when women are witty.

He looks a little like my husband don't you think? Only my husband is better looking... and I'm not saying that because he reads my blog because he can't read my blog while he is deployed because my blog is blocked! Can you believe that? Apparently I am too racy for some countries that shall remain nameless. Whatever. I don't know where they are getting their information because there is nothing racy about this site.

Nothing at all.