Look at that sweet face...

...now picture it with a broken nose.

We've all heard fast food can be unhealthy, but today C-Monkey experienced a freak fast food related accident we never saw coming. Arby's has a hand rail apparatus designed to keep their innumerable customers (3) in a nice, tidy line. We've told C-Monkey a zillion times not to hang on the rails, but he knew -- and we knew -- we were only saying that so the manager wouldn't yell at him (or more importantly, at us, and then spit in our food...we restaurant people really do that, you know; just watch the channel 2 news)

Anyway, C was hanging or swinging or something when all four bolts let go at the same time, the faux marble hand rail flew off, clocked him on the forehead, bounced off his nose, and knocked him on his keister. That TWACK! sound was the back of his head hitting the tile floor. There was no blood, just a tiny scratch on his nose and a wail that would give the Civil Defense siren a run for it's money.

While we took turns holding him, rocking and soothing him, we watched the bridge of his nose begin to swell. phopl took him to the baby vet, and sure enough, he has a broken face. He went to his dad's for the weekend, but I fully expect to see him on Monday sporting a pair of shiners. So the moral of the story is: be oh-so-careful out there in those treacherous fast food restaurants.

And we thought the only danger was the cholesterol...

Bethany, you do NOT need a new computer...but it's stinkin' cute, isn't it?

Back where he belongs...

Welcome home, friend!

Searching for a melody

I wrote a song. It's about the seasons in a woman's life. I dreamed this thing, then woke up and wrote it down. Verses, bridges, choruses...a whole entire song! OK, that's not strictly accurate. I don't have any music for it, so I guess what I actually have here is a poem. Apparently, I am Rodgers but not Hammerstein; Lerner but not Loewe. Can you help me out here?

1. What to wear, can’t find a thing/frizzy hair, and static cling
Late for work, I think I lost my keys
Working lunches, business plans/memos, emails, traffic jams
Customers impossible to please

Starbucks coffee, micro chips/rubber bands and paper clips
Muzak is so loud I cannot think
Pay roll and computer screens/angry bosses, fax machines
The paper’s jammed, the printer’s out of ink

My life has spun out of control, I’ve fallen deep into a hole
I take a breath, and I remember what to do

I run to You, I run to You
My life’s pedantic, frantic ‘til I run to You
This day can’t get the best of You
No matter what I have to do
You hold my hand and walk me through
I run to You

2. Diaper pails and runny nose/sticky fingers, dress up clothes
Can’t remember if I made the bed
Peanut butter, Dr Seuss /Cheerios and apple juice
Sponge Bob’s theme is running through my head

Mommy, where’s my sippy cup/Mom, the toilet’s backing up
What’s for dinner? I don’t have a plan
Piles of laundry, never done/need to make a Target run
Wake up tired, do it all again

I like to think my race is won; I won’t admit to anyone
I’m going under, then remember what to do

I run to You, I run to You
I’m feeling harried, buried
Then I run to You
I leave the chaos and the noise
Of dirty faces, bikes and toys
You share my heartaches and my joys
I run to You


3. The house is quiet, so’s my head/there’s time to read, and make the bed
The laundry and the dishes all are done
The kids have grown and left the nest/They say this time of life is best
They say it’s time to care for Number One

But I miss my mom and miss my dad/I miss my kids, the times we had
And my heart aches for those who’ve come and gone
Love my grandkids, love my friends/love the times I have with them
Why then, do I feel so all alone?

I know You love me desperately; I know You have a plan for me
And once again I am reminded what to do

I run to You; I run to You
When life feels shattered, tattered
I can run to You
No matter what I face today
You’re there to lead me all the way
If I will only stop and pray
And run to You

I know You love me desperately;
I know You have a plan for me
Lord, here's my life, and willingly
I run to You

No Mas!

Yippee!

Is this modern classroom management?

I could use some insight from the teacher-y crew. I've worked in C-Monkey's kinder class twice, and this has been the case both times.

There is a little guy in the class we'll call Dustin. During the time of day where the kids are all working on projects at the various tables, he is up and about with the rest of the class. But during rug time, he is all alone, at a table clear across the room, and is even facing the opposite wall. The rug is on the other side of the room, behind a room divider, and the teacher sits with her back to the divider. There is no way Dustin can even see the rug, much less see (or hear!) the teacher, because he's about 15 feet away, and facing the opposite direction. This is the time she's reading books, teaching letter sounds, etc.

My heart is breaking for Dustin. He's not nearly the naughtiest boy in the class. He's a typical squirrely little 5-year-old boy whose teacher has isolated him to the point of his not being included in her teaching time. I don't know why this is happening, and I don't know if it's my place to ask her about someone else's kid's behavior issues. But my heart breaks for Dustin, and I need some advice...

If you had read an old post about trying to transfer the ownership of our truck, the California DMV was thrilled with the latest Lien Release, but now they want something else, a transfer of ownership form...actually it's another transfer of ownership form. Anyway, I signed it, filled it out as best I could, and gave it back to the buyer.

We shall see...

Want to guess where I dined today?

C-Monkey's Word-a-pillar Wall

"red" A very useful word.

Stay tuned.

Seen on my way to work...

I have a neurotic fear of driving behind one of these trucks when suddenly -- ping! -- the tiny little Barbie doll sized chains snap, and the entire load comes rolling down into my personal driving space. Hay trucks? Those flatbeds carrying a 47 foot-high stack of pallets? Logging trucks? Those monstrous trucks carrying sheep? My palms are sweating just writing about it!

You know the Bible has 365 "fear nots", one for each day of the year. If you come across the one that covers this particular fear, let me know. I'll be right over here, curled up in the fetal position, weeping quietly.

Tagged by my kid!

Use three words only...no more, no less.

Where is your cell phone? never far away
Where is one of your parents? both in heaven
Cheesecake? Marie Callender's best
Your favorite thing to do? play with TheGuys
Your dream last night? something about Cameron...?
Your favorite drink? brewed iced tea
The room you're in? comfy family room
George Bush? God bless him
What you're good at? World's best grammie
One of your wish list items? maybe Sirius radio
Where did you grow up? Lovely little Riverside
The last thing you did? emptied the dishwasher
What are you wearing? nice loose pants
Who stole your sunglasses? They're probably lost
Ketchup? on the side
Your computer? Dude, a Dell
Your life? Full and fun
Your mood? always Suzie Sunshine
Your next blog? probably later tonight
Your car is? Honda Pilot...yippee!
Your summer? joyous and sad
Your favorite color? Red; no, green
When is the last time you laughed? not for minutes

My Dirty Little Geekret: Boy Bands

Seriously, they were THAT SMALL?

First things first, even before the wallpaper tools are put away or the switch plates are reinstalled (where is that stinkin' screw, anyway?) First the hand prints go back up. I have enforced a strict Look With Eyes Only rule for these; they are irreplaceable. TheGuys love to compare their mondo, sticky, filth-encrusted hands with them.

And they are fascinated with Baylee's hand print. Maybe because knowing she was born in the same hospital as were they, and met the very same Handprint Lady, just makes her real. Neither of them can remember their older sister, a valiant little super hero of a kid who fought the good fight against Rett Syndrome for six years before her little heart gave out. But there's her hand print. So she was really a person. Wow. For a moment -- a very short moment -- they are quiet. Thank you, Bayls. I needed a quiet moment.

I sometimes wonder what life would be like if she had lived. So many changes now. Her disabilities were profound, but she found joy in some areas of her life. I think she would have loved watching her bros.

Blog Mama's clean kitchen post has inspired me. I feel like my house has gotten out of control, and that upsets me (not enough, apparently, to stop typing and go vacuum something). I'm going to hire in the big stuff, like having the carpet shampooed, and all the blinds cleaned. But for the most part, it'll be me-all-me whipping my adorable house back into some order.

Little Church is starting soon, which means my home will sparkle every 2nd and 4th Tuesday, but between now and then, I want it clean so I can just look around and smile.

I was at the local Chrysler/Plymouth/Jeep dealer yesterday, picking up Phopl, who's Dodge Intrepid has been in and out and in and in and in the shop for 13 months now. As I walked through the lot, a hopeful young man asked if I was looking for anything in particular. "Are you kidding?" I asked with sincere incredulilty. "I drive a Pilot."

Was that too snotty?

Um, your opinion, please...

After 3 weeks of Kindergarten, should we not be seeing more than coloring pages coming home? Oh, there's the occasional page on which C-Monkey has written his name, and once he had to match blue to blue and pink to pink. But otherwise, nada. When Quatro was a Kinder, he was already bringing home pre-readers. C-Monk has a long term sub, and although her classroom is quiet and under control, I'm not seeing much academically. Yes, he is a squirrelly little boy, but he's bright, and he is starving to learn.

Kinder teachers and moms, am I expecting too much too soon?

Edit: C-Mama points out the coloring pages also include KinderMath functions, like understanding order, placement by size and other algebraic stuff. So maybe I should relax...

Baby, You Can Drive Me Crazy

We had purchased a little truck for The Princess Bride back in 1996, and paid it off in less than a year. So when we sold it last year, you'd think we'd have the pink slip. Yeah, not so much. No prob. I just had to call Ford Credit for a lien release. They were SO-O helpful, and two weeks later, I had the lien release, took it to the California DMV, and was told it needed to be notarized. You'd think people who daily deal with car sales would know that, but everyone makes mistakes so ... I called Ford Credit again. They were SO-O helpful, and two weeks later, I had the notarized lien release, took it to the California DMV, and was told it was incomplete because they didn't indicate which California county they were in when they signed the form. (they were in Nebraska, and although I'm no Miss Teen South Carolina, I don't think any of the California counties are in Nebraska) so ... I called Ford Credit again. They were SO-O helpful, and two weeks later, I had the notarized lien release, with the Nebraska county indicated, but the name of the original signer was not included. Guess what the California DMV thought of that? yup. So ... I called Ford Credit again. They were SO-O helpful, and two weeks later (today) I had the notarized lien release, with every stinking line on the form filled out. I'll be taking it back to the DMV tomorrow.

Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets.

A Very Hungry Little Reading Boy

Riverside Unified School District has a set of words for each grade they call Sight Words, or No Excuse Words. These are words the kids will encounter a lot, and are expected to recognize on sight. So C-Monkey and I are making a Word Caterpillar. When he learns one of his Kindergarten words, we will add a segment to his caterpillar. By the end of his Kinder year, he should have a nice long bug. This week's words: "I" and "see". (OK, we're starting small, but he's a little boy, so we'll give him some slack!) As soon as we have more body parts than just a head, we'll take a picture. Thanks, Aunt Krista, for the fun idea to help us learn!

Mexican Pete

It's a silly little brainless game. Just match number to number
until you've played all you can, then hope someone else passes
so you can play your "offs" on them. No math required until
the end when you have to add up the left over dots. So why
is it so addicting? Maybe it's the company...

Eight Days a Week

Last Sunday, I was enjoying a pleasant early morning conversation with The Princess Bride. Then it began:
1. TheEarly Warning System -- StoopidDog growls, jumps up, barks at seemingly nothing.
2. The Sound -- like seriously heavy trucks driving thru the backyard, followed by a CRACK.
3. The Ride -- rolling/shaking, and a little flippy-floppy stomach thing.
4. And finally, the ultimate SoCal game of Richter Guess. Was it a 3? a 4? It wasn't a 5, but almost. A dash to the CalTech website, and we learn this one was 4.7, a decent earthquake by anyone's standards. We can hold our heads up.

The rest of the week was earthquake-worthy as well. A friend lost his mother suddenly, while the ex-son-in-law and his new wife had a baby boy (weird emotions going on here). C-Monkey's Kindergarten teacher created her own Richter scale, giving me the daily rating of his behavior. Mr Roboto began phase one of the homework battle: it's too hard or too easy or I'm hungry or I'm tired or I need a break (choose one).

Finally, Sunday morning the bookend earthquake hit San Diego, and although I am too far north to have felt it, San Diego is home for The Princess Bride, so I got the full report, numbers one through 4.

Quite a week.

My Dirty Little Geekret, next

Marching bands. Field shows. The Lester Oaks Tournament. Gets me every time. I refuse to watch the Rose Parade with my daughters because as I begin to sob, they begin to mock. It's just not right. That's the Baylor University Golden Wave in the picture, playing The Good Old Baylor Line. Come on...doesn't it just put a lump in your throat?

A Hard Day's Night

One of the things I love about SoCal living is that no matter how hot it gets during the day, the temp typically drops about 30 degrees at night, making for some good sleeping. But we had 2 or 3 days this week where it never did cool down...or it did, but when you subtract 30 degrees from 117...



I found this sketch on The Toymaker's blog.

What do you suppose this means?

It could either mean that...

1. All the USC pens were purchased by the many, many fans.
2. Staples refuses to even CARRY USC pens.
3. ___ (your guess here) __

Ah, sweet mystery of life...and college football.