I am: desperately in love with all baby things. Baby cats, dogs, humans... Not reptiles though- baby reptiles are gross...

I think: I wish away my life too much. "I wish it was Friday. I wish it were June 1st. I wish I were drinking a beer." 

I know: I was meant to be a mom.

I want: It to be June 1st!! And a full to the brim bank account.

I have: a nail biting problem.

I dislike: Most shows on the Disney channel and Nickelodeon. And baseball. I would rather watch paint dry. It is a mind numbing sport that lasts WAYYYY too long.

I miss: My mom. Every day, very much.

I fear: Losing everything. Not like my keys, my pop, my glasses, my mind.. But things that matter. 

I feel: The pins in my elbow and they hurt. 

I hear: Noah chewing, Abby snoring, Sam barking, and CSI NY

I smell: nothing because the sounds are drowning out all my other senses, and I have a stuffy nose.

I crave: The feeling of belonging and to be understood. 

I search: for my sanity. Where the hell did it go? 

I wonder: Why are my children growing up in fast forward, but no one else's children are?

I regret: Not having another child.

I love: Sleep.

I care: More than I may show it a lot of times.

I am always: Thinking about my children.

I worry: all.the.time. It's a gift, I could teach a class on it. I would call it "Why Worry? BECAUSE YOU SHOULD! Anything. I mean ANYTHING can and will go wrong. That's Why!!"

I remember: Thinking  30 was old.

I sing: To my students. I used to do it a lot more until one student told me I was really out of tune and should sit in on music class.

I argue: Not well, I think of what I should have said after the fact, but then it's too late.

I write: In a combination of cursive and print, just like a third grade teacher should... 

I lose: everything because I'm not organized enough

I wish: I had a closer knit extended family. All I have is my brother and sister and they live 2,000 miles away. 

I listen: to a song and am instantly transported back in time. Normally I correctly guess the year too, because that is my hidden talent. I can even tell you what I was doing in the said year while listening to it..

I don't understand: How electricity works. I teach it, but I literally read verbatim from the book, and pray every year the kids don't ask any questions. If they do I tell them to look it up and tell me in the morning.  

I can usually be found: At home, at school or at a basketball game. That is really the only places I go.

I am scared: of snakes, being seriously sick, being vulnerable and having to depend on someone else, my children being hurt sick or not safe, AND my students plotting my death...  

I need: more shoes, a new wardrobe, a maid, and a chef. And my own bathroom that can only be used by me.  

I forget: to do things like return phone calls, make appointments, mail things, where I left my sanity.... 

I am happy: Most of the time, because I have good bitch-be-gone pills!!

Sammy's Turn

Mama told me it's my turn to write the Christmas letter this year. She didn't do a Christmas card because she "couldn't find good pictures of the human boys". She has pictures of Abby- AKA the PRINCESS watching TV, but none of her children? Notice in the picture there is a handsome, friendly dog laying on the floor. Does that one get any attention? NOOOO only the "genius" who watches puppies on TV...

To be honest, we, the dogs ARE around a lot more than those human kids are. Well, here's a re-cap of my year. Max and I get our hair cut at least every four months or so. Maxie HATES going there. He runs in and hides under the counter. I run in happy because I know they've been missing me. We look and smell great when we are done. Abby doesn't get to go. Probably because she runs away too much. Abby had to get half of her teeth pulled. She had to stay overnight at the place of fear and shots. I bet she had her teeth taken out because she barks so much. Mama tells me I bark too much, I guess I better stop or I'll lose my teeth too. I like to make my humans happy by going outside and coming right back in every few minutes. They just love opening that door for me. Sometimes I get tired of that game, but it makes them so happy so I do it all day long. I try to do it at night, but they are "sleeping". Mama and the boys were home when it was hot outside. I like that. When it gets colder they leave and I don't like that. I sit at the top of the steps and silently cry all day. Mama thinks I need my own pet to keep me company. She keeps talking about a "kitten". I saw one of those at the place of fear once and it scared me. I tried to run away from it. We got a new fence for the backyard. I don't like it as much as the old one because I can't see a thing on the other side anymore. It doesn't stop me from barking to scare away any imaginary intruders though. One day the shorter human boy left gate open and Abby, Max and I ran away! We ran and ran. Then Max and I got scared and came back. Maxie hid in the garage and I went right back through the gate, ran up the steps and went to the deck door. That is usually where I find mama. See, I'm the smart dog.  Abby kept running. That's cuz she's a little bitch. The humans found her. I bet she'll lose more teeth for that one. All of the boys at my house talk about basketball or football all of the time. They watch it on TV too, but only if "Princess" is done watching her puppy shows. Mama talks about "school", whatever that is. Mama was also sad last summer because she lost another uncle and her aunt Harriett. I should help her find them. They are probably in the back yard where I lose all of my toys. Another game everyone loves is "throwing the ball". Those humans can throw that ball all day long. I make them happy by running to get it for them to throw again. Abby and Max don't. Abby runs to it, stares at it and can't pick it up because she doesn't have teeth. Max just watches the humans throw the ball. He doesn't even try to make them happy. That's what makes me the better dog. Well, I'm getting tired of typing and it's been awhile since I let the humans play "open the door". AT least I play with them. I better get back to it, or "Princess" will become top dog. Happy New Year. 

Sam

Post Thanksgiving

I was going to post these pictures on FaceBook, but there was an article in the Fourm where ladies said, pictures with "shaming" signs on their pets is humiliating to the pet. Really? They constantly lick their butts in front of me, they even lick each other's butts. I'm pretty sure they don't understand humiliation. Plus, they all wagged their tails when I took the pictures, well except Sam, I had to wait for him to go to sleep because he didn't like the feel of the tape on his fur- or maybe he was humiliated? Either way, I don't need those animal rights activists after me.
What does a teacher do with 5 days off from school and obviously too much time on her hands? Take pictures of the dogs and speak for them of course. You may notice Abby is wet. Why? Well because she ran away and got all muddy. Why would Max be wet, you may be asking. Well. Maxie likes to jump into the tub. You should have seen his look of surprise when he found out it was full of water and puppy shampoo.   This November marked Max's fifth birthday and the fourth anniversary of getting Sammy. That means in the last three out of 12 years I have not been potty training something or someone. I think that means I should get a baby kitten. The mean grown up man who lives at my house said, "hell no" to Ethan's and my request for a new puppy, but you never know. Maybe under the tree this year I'll find a baby kitten to potty train. Or a cleaning lady. I hope the cleaning lady is already potty trained, as long as she doesn't pee on my floor and cleans it up if she does, who am I to judge?
As I said, I had FIVE days off. During those five days, I've accomplished very little. I did go see my "happy doctor" to renew my bitch-be-gone pills. She wanted me to get stronger ones, but I opted for the fish-oil placebo pills and trying to find a hobby instead. She had me chart out my day on a spread sheet. Black was for school, doing school work at home, and thinking about work- also known as "being scared the naughty children will eat me alive". There was A LOT of black. Orange was for sports related times; being at a sporting event, listening to sport talk, and having to watch sports on TV. I don't like sports, so we changed that color to brown, being it's dull for me. Red is for cooking and cleaning. Both things I don't really enjoy. If I could clean and it would stay that way, I'd like it more- same with the cooking. I'd like to cook once a week and call it good. But BOYS - ALL of them- don't clean up after themselves and they keep insisting on eating, especially now that Michelle Obama is starving them at school. I was supposed to have pink, my favorite color, be my "me/fun time". I had no pink. Happy doctor, who usually just blinks at me and says nothing, told me I "had to find a hobby", and apparently drinking is not one she medically approves of. I threw out a few more examples, reading-but it makes me more tired than I am and pink time turns into blue/sleep time. Scrap booking- but that make me more anxious, calling for more medication/fish oil/beer because I am overwhelmed by how far behind I am (5 plus years). Painting the walls in my house, which ARE more fun than scraping wall paper, but it's a big job and I need to undertake this hobby thing with baby steps. Jewelry making is the one that won out. I found jewelry making is a very expensive hobby (much more than Coors Light) and I may need a part-time job to support my "hobby", which I don't have time for right now the way it is. I did buy some beads and supplies, and I don't want to let the cat out of the bag, but all the moms of the player's on Noah's Cougar team is going to get an EXCITING black and orange gift for Christmas.

Fortune Teller

I recently returned from a trip to Vegas, and we all know what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. That and if you are in Vegas for three days, you are there two days too long. I could have just as much fun going to Dilworth for a lot less money. But I was in Vegas, so when in Vegas act like the crazies who are also there. Maybe that's why I did something I swore I'd never do. Nope, it's not prostituting myself out, staying sober for a four hour stretch, or going "commando". It was paying good money for "a reading". I have a sneaking suspicion psychics say general comments, judge your reaction and run with it. So, I saw the sign "10.00 for a palm reading, 20.00 for a tarot card reading." I walked through the curtain of beads into the "buggy" and sat down. I handed her a $20 dollar bill and asked for the palm reading. She said, "Are you sure you don't want a card reading? It is more detailed." I said, "Ok. Sure." She laid out the cards and began. "The things I tell you are not to personally hurt you. You must understand this." I nodded thinking, "oh crap... I've been paranoid all these months for good reason."  She continued, "You will live a long life, well into your 80s or 90s." That's not a stretch, the expected life span for a woman is in her 80s. "I am picking up that you have a good heart. You are a good person." This is something I've been struggling with a lot - i.e. CONSUMED with lately. Too many people have been telling me I'm not a good person, so I've been obsessing about it. This brought tears to my eyes, but I tried desperately to hide it and stay with a flat expression. and thought- great, THIS is what she'll run with. "I sense you are feeling torn in two directions  your heart tells you one thing and your head tells you another, this is causing great unhappiness. You have a friend telling you to go in one directions, but the decision must be your own and you must take your time in making the decision. You are afraid you will get hurt if you go with your heart, but within the next 18 months you will be happy. You value love above money or material things. You are saving up for something (she got that because I was only going to pay for the 10.00 reading when I had a $20), it will take you a very long time to save. (Because I caved and gave her the 20). I see three trips in the next 18 months for you. These with be trips for pleasure, not business, and you are happy and with friends. I see a career change and a move across country in your future.You are very happy with your new career and move. (What?? I'm getting fired?! I would never move away from Moorhead while the kids are in school) I see you miss a friend deeply, but are scared of reconnecting because you don't want to get hurt. You are most afraid of being hurt emotionally (duh... isn't everyone?) You will have someone from your past connect with you in the next 18 months who needs help. I sense you do not respect this person, or their choices. You should help them financially, but do not get emotionally involved, or you will be hurt." I'm thinking, "I can't help anyone financially, I'm getting fired" As she continued, "You have to dip into the money you are saving to help this person, but consider it as paying to get this person out of your life forever." Who am I hooked up with? The mob? "You have two children. (that part was like-woo-woo- weird... maybe she is for real, but in reality, most people who have children have two) your children will be OK. They will always be alright." That was the end. Now I am going to read this post in a year and a half and see how much is true. Oh- and now I know, I'm not just paranoid, people really ARE out to get me.

Happy Birthday Ethan

Ethan is 10 years old. I don't have any kids in single digits anymore. I'll only have him for another nine years. I miss him already. I knew at the end the of Summer of 2011, it would be my last summer of my baby and me. This last summer he hung out with me, but I know he secretly wanted to be with his friends. A year ago I was his best friend. Now he tells me Abby and I are neck and neck in the running of his best friend that's a girl. I did remind him that I carried him for nine months and changed his diapers, got up in the middle of the night, and I buy him stuff. But he said Abby is softer. On his birthday we made cupcakes when I got home from school, then he opened his presents. He is getting so grown-up. It makes me sad. I have to remind him that he used to love me so much he said when I die, he'd bury me in the back yard, so he can dig me up every day to see me. Now he says "that's really gross". I thought it was sweet. Every once in awhile I see a snipit of little Ethan. The little "Bonk-O-Zonks" in front of him are one inch plastic figures. He made a tournament of them racing the other night and he was talking for them, to himself, and cheering for them. It made me smile. Ethan is a good kid. He's so sensitive to other people hurting, he's so sweet, and smart and funny. He loves animals and his big brother so much. The other day he told me he didn't know if he wanted to be a vet, or basketball player when he grows up. I told him he should be a pediatrician, and he said, "I really don't like a lot of kids that much..."  Ethan is still my buddy. I love him so much. I'll try to keep him little as long as I can.

Once Again...

I know- I'm wearing too much make-up.

Sometimes Abby doubles as a football.

He's the handsomest 12-year-old I know.

 

Once again I am wishing my life away. Now that school has started for the boys, we are insanely busy. Ethan has football practice Monday, Tuesday and Thursday nights from 6:00- 7:30. A game every other Monday night from 5:00- 7:30 and games Saturday mornings which last two and a half hours. Both boys have Sunday school on Sunday. Noah has Wednesday morning Sunday school for confirmation, along with Wednesday night confirmation activities from 5:30-9:00. He also has practice every day from 4:00 (right when school gets out) until 6:00. Two to three days a week he plays football from 5:30-7:30. So Wednesdays for Noah look like this; Wake up at 7:00. Confirmation 8:00-8:50, school 9:05-3:55, football 4:00-6:00, confirmation 5:30 (yes, I KNOW they overlap) until 9:00. When is the kid supposed to eat or do homework? I know it was our choice to put him in football and confirmation, but it seems like you really can't do both. Also, 7th grade is soo much harder. Noah is in the advanced classes- which again is out choice, but every teacher takes the "half hour of homework each night" as "half hour of homework in every one of your seven classes each night." I just keep thinking, if we can make it through September and into the middle of October we'll be fine. There you go- wishing away my life. I decided to take it one week at a time, but that's still wishing it all away.

 



I think I am a little autistic. I'm taking an autism class and I read the first chapter and a half. At times, I think it describes me to a tee. I always eat my Skittles in this order; orange, green, red, yellow, blue and then purple- except I leave one orange for last because they are my favorites. I have to eat them in that order because it's complimentary colors. I also eat my vitamin gummies in order too. All of the reds first, then orange, then yellow, then purple. And I have issues with my feet. If I think my feet are at all dirty, sweaty, smelly or sticky, I have to wash them before I climb into bed. I can't wear flip-flops where the shoe strap touches between my toes because it gives me a stomach ache. I also fixate a little on the seem on my socks if it's touching the tips of my toes. When that happens, I can't quit moving my toes. I can't help it. I don't throw a tantrum or anything if I can't have my skittles or vitamins a certain way, but I do know I will have three weeks of bad luck if I eat them in the wrong order, and I could never fall asleep if my feet weren't just right. Another thing- I have to say "The Hail Mary" after I say the Lord's Prayer- even when I'm at my LUTHERAN church, a weeding or a funeral. I think if I don't give Mary her due attention God will send me straight to hell. That may not be an autistic thing but a weird Catholic thing. Some priest probably told me that once. You know them- always wanting to weed out who gets to go to Heaven, as if it'll get too crowded and they won't be allowed in.

 

Hopefully the next six weeks will go by quickly, my baby will have time to do homework AND confirmation, and my autism class will teach me how to be normal.

 

Thoughts I think: I used to have super powers, but then my therapist took them away.

Funerals

As I was sitting at Harriett's funeral I noticed something. Light olive green is the new black. To avoid crying I count stuff sometimes, and out of the 67 people at the funeral, 15 of them wore a light shade of olive green, and 11 of the 15 were my relatives. My child was one of them, little did I know I was setting him up to be in fashion. I guess I like green. I like black better because it's slimming, but if I wear it too many days in a row Noah asks me if I am turning "goth", and the gym teacher asks why I am in mourning. Last year I told him I was in "silent protest of the school year". The funeral was nice. They didn't talk about September 11, like at my mom's funeral, or how seven maidens were late for a lunch-on with Jesus therefore were kicked out, like at my grandma's. Both topics were really stupid. Do the priests close their eyes, pick a page in the newspaper or Bible and try to make that one work? My mom was so out of it at the end, she didn't even know 9/11 happened. And my grandma's family is NOTORIOUS for being late every where, so that really one didn't make sense, unless the priest was telling us all "you fools are always late and will be banned from Heaven." Which is not comforting at all. I know what you are all thinking, 'at least being late runs in her family...' See, I really can't help it. It'd be like trying to change my eye color- which actually comes from the other side of the family. Anyway, after the funeral we all drove out to the cemetery in Downer. The cemetery is basically a "family cemetery" where a few neighbor's family members are buried as well. It's at least 2/5 Heng. While we are standing by the casket I look to my left and see my mom's foot stone. She is to the right of Harriett's husband, Johnny. Harriett's hole was not left of her husband. It was on the wrong side of the foot stone. The whole time I am thinking I've got to be wrong, but nope. They dug the wrong hole. They were about to lower the coffin when I leaned over to dad and said, "That's a foot stone, not a head stone. They dug the wrong hole." Dad told Harriett's son that she wouldn't be next to her husband. He said he "didn't care, as long as they are in the same cemetery." Dad talked to the guys who dug the hole, they were actually waiting on the road near by to cover it up- I've never noticed that before. They swore the foot stone was a head stone and started digging as if it were a head stone looking for Johnny. They dug more than seven feet down and didn't hit anything. Then they dug as if the foot stone was a foot stone and found Johnny's vault. After that, they dug the right hole for Harriett. I think I should go paint a big red x as to where dad is supposed to be when the time comes. I didn't go to the lunch-on after because I didn't want to deal with the step-monster. But I heard they served drinks, just like Harriett would have wanted.
Thoughts that I think: If I liked eating a little bit less and exercising a little bit more, I'd like my clothes and going in public more.