I'm That Kind of Mother

(I'm the kind of mother who lets her boy dress as a "sinky sunk" [stinky skunk] and her daughter as a "beautiful princess".)

I'm the kind of mom who does not indulge her children very often. I'm the kind of mom who believes that you better be throwing up, seriously injured or bleeding profusely if you want to come home from school. I'm the kind of mom who usually parents by tough love and natural consequences. I'm the kind of mom who has been known to make her high school-aged child walk home from school (3 miles) after said child missed the bus. I'm the kind of mom who makes her children follow through on their committments, even if something way more fun or interesting comes along. I'm the kind of mom who is pretty serious and who the kids used to refer to as "the one who does all the work." I'm the kind of mom who is getting better at listening to the whole story before dispensing judgment. I'm the kind of mom who is learning to laugh at spilled milk--even if it is on the brand new couch that has only been in the house for 30 minutes. I'm the kind of mom who is discovering friends definitely have a greater pull than parents do when children reach teen-age years. I'm the kind of mom who seems to be enjoying her children more and more each day and realizing how quickly time is flying by. I'm the kind of mom who actually drove her high school-aged child to the bus stop and waited in the car with said child until the bus came just so the child would not get wet standing in the rain. I'm the kind of mom who can be quite silly (ok, weird) from time to time. I'm the kind of mom who has been known to break out into song when certain phrases are said...Oklahoma; Where are we going?; Who are you?...to name just a few phrases. I'm the kind of mom who wonders if I have done enough.

A Couple of Shout-outs

Here's what I have for you today.... First, my friend, Lindsey, is having a give-away for a Pampered Chef grill press. If you love paninis or the ability to cook frozen chicken in record time, go here to enter. Second, CV high school's fall theatre production begins a week from tomorrow. Our own resident thespian will be performing. This year's fall production will be Wait Until Dark. The show runs Nov. 4-9. Tickets are available at the door, cost $8. Curtain time is 7:30 p.m. These kids do a remarkable job at performing and set production. You will be impressed if you come. That's all for today.

Just Call Me Smacktalk

(Carson emulating his Uncle Dan, who Carson watched every Friday night at the high school football game)

"Just call me, Smacktalk," said the 3rd grade boy as I called his name for vision/hearing screening.

"Smacktalk?" I inquired.

"Yep. Me and some other boys formed a group on the playground and we all have to have 'tough' names," he told me.

Inwardly I started smiling and thought to myself, "that is exactly what little boys should be doing. Forming groups and giving each other 'tough' names out on the playground."

Outwardly, I replied, "I like your real first name. That's what I'm going to call you."

"Ok," he said and we proceeded on with his vision/hearing screening.

That is what started this past week; a week that highlighted the differences between boys and girls.

A few days later, I read this hilarious post by my friend Jessica, who continues to discover that boys are just different creatures. Reading her post, reminded me that boys not only like to make messes with foodstuffs, they also find ways to make themselves into superheroes--this usually involves permanent markers--while girls would prefer to find mom's make-up and make themselves into princesses. When Carson was little, he found the markers and made himself into Darth Maul--not exactly a superhero, but oh well.

Anyway, more differences popped up all week long, culminating in a staff meeting on Friday where the principal shared some news from a conference that she attended, where the guest speaker presented on...wait for it...

Boys and girls learn differently!

OK, so I shouldn't be so snarky. I should actually be glad that someone in the educational setting is finally starting to realize that boys and girls are different and that perhaps they way we have been teaching lately is not the best way for our boys to learn. So now that she has this information, let's see if anything changes.

This Day is Such A Special One--It's Birthday Time for Him

Today, Dave turns 40!

I don't have a sappy birthday post to write. He wouldn't appreciate it. He thinks too much PDA is not a good thing and if not careful, this blog post could be full of mushy stuff.

I don't have a big birthday bash planned. He outlawed it. He really doesn't like to be in the limelight.

Up until 1 hour ago, I didn't even have a birthday present. He really didn't want anything. Well, OK he did mention one thing, but telling you about it would fall under the "PDA"/mushy catagory.

So, Man, I just want you to know...in 9 months I'll be 40 and I'll expect A LOT!

The War

We are car shopping. Well, actually, I am car shopping. David has given me carte blanche to "buy what makes me happy." Isn't that great? Just go and get whatever I want as long as it makes me happy and my hubby won't give me any grief about the purchase. I should be running to the dealership. Except, he knows I am too practical to buy what makes me happy. Thus, the war. Only the war is not between the hubs and me. Nope, the war is between my head and my heart. My heart is all about the sports car--Honda S2000 or Mercedes E350 cabriolet. My head, however, is all about being fiscally conservative and weighing all the costs--insurance, up-keep, gas mileage, the budget, etc. I blame the desire for a sports car on my dad. When I was in high school, he had a Porsche 944 turbo. I got to drive it a few times and...I LOVED it. The cornering, the flat out speed. It was to die for. I always said that someday I would have a sports car, maybe not a Porsche, but definitely a sports car. Everyone talks about men buying sports cars during their mid-life crisis. Well, my husband bought a PlayStation 3. That leaves me with buying the sports car. But I just don't think I can pull the trigger. I guess that's why men usually win the war.

A Cure for What Ails Me

You want to know what cures Monday"itis"?

Waking up and finding Tuesday. A good, hard, early-morning run. And realizing that my hormones have now re-established a happy homeostasis.

I'm Not Sure I Really Matter

So that statement is probably a little melodramatic. Maybe I have Monday"itis". What I should have said is "I'm not sure that my job really matters." I used to believe the school nurse mantra "Every child deserves a school nurse." But the longer I am at my job, the less impact I think school nursing really has on a student's education. Matter-of-fact, I think I do very little that improves a child's education. And I am starting to feel a little guilty about the salary I am paid to do a job which I am not sure does anything to improve the state of education for children. If I were a better person, I would probably just quit. But my husband thinks husbands and wives each have a responsibility to provide income for the home and quite frankly, we have grown accustomed to the extra income and benefits. And I have to admit, that being on the same schedule as my kids is a huge factor in my deciding to stay put. I do recognize that I probably make a difference to the 4 diabetics that are in my schools. And interacting with them is a highlight. And I do enjoy meeting with my advisory group on a weekly basis. But are those interactions enough to justify my salary? Does my job really matter? What is the cure for Monday"itis"? I hope that is all this is because it is too early in the year to be feeling dragged down by my job.

Holy Inappropriateness

Dear ESPN Magazine: What were you thinking? Did you think that somehow it was in good taste to put 6 naked women on your front cover? Did you think that I would be inspired to be a better person by looking a centerfold picture of Julia Mancuso? I guess I am supposed to be grateful that you had the water polo girls turned sideways with a water polo ball strategically placed or Julia Mancuso carefully covering certain areas of her body. But guess what? I'm not at all pleased or grateful to have received your "Body Issue". And yes, I do think this issue is worse than your competitor's swimsuit issue. I also found it quite telling that in your "advice" column Johnny Weir states: "Dressing sexy...is no longer seen as a bad thing: it shows empowerment." So, I guess you are sticking with the ole' stand-by "sex sells". Well I have news for you, it won't be selling issues in this house any longer! And don't even get me started on the fact that the only naked athletes you chose to feature were the ones with a ridiculously low amount of body fat. These athletes do not represent "normal". Sincerely, An Unhappy Customer PS The only article that I read with interest was the one about poop. The article that contained this line..."So if you're appalled, or even just grossed out, by a magazine full of beautiful athletes interrupted by a story on poop, good news: It means you're normal". Well, I'm standing proud to be a little odd because I was more bothered by the naked athletes than I was about the story on poop.

Happy, Happy Birthday Katie B.

Dear Katelyn,

Where has 17 years gone? We are so grateful that your beautiful smile and sweet spirit has blessed our home so much. You've heard your birth story so many times, I won't bore you with it again. But here are some excerpts from my journal that I thought you might enjoy...

First is how I felt when I found out I was pregnant..."I am so excited to go through all the body changes, but nine months seems like such a long time to wait before I can hold the new little life in my arms."

Then you finally arrived. Here are some words from that time...

Our little Katelyn arrived on 4 October at 2:11 a.m. She has her daddy's dimple on her left cheek and she has the longest eyelashes. She makes the cutest faces. I can't hardly put into words how I felt when they placed Katelyn in my arms. My whole body is filled with so much love for my little baby girl. I am so grateful that my Heavenly Father allowed her to come to live with us and I am so happy that she picked David and me as her parents.

Her daddy sure is a proud papa! He can hardly put her down. Matter of fact, when he took her to the nursery, I didn't see him for an hour. It is a good thing that Katelyn decided to come when she did because her daddy was more than ready to have her here. Katie B. we love you so much and feel blessed every day to be your parents. Thanks for being such a great kid. PS. You pinked up quite nicely after this picture was taken. Being stuck for 3 hours tends to make little babies a little oxygen deprived and look a little pastey for their first picture.