Same old stuff

Not. SOOOO. Not.

Out with the old...














(Can you see where I'm going with this? Wheee!!!!!)







In with the new:













Now I can make all the same "Woweee!" comments that every new Dyson owner makes. So, Wowee!!! Also, let me add "Gross!" I can't believe the yuck that was in our carpets and on our sofa. I even did the "vacuum with the old machine, then with the Dyson to see what the old one left behind." Geez, was the old one even sucking? Maybe, but not in a vacuumey kind of way.

Tomorrow I tackle the mattresses.

Hold me.

Anyhoo ... I got a really good deal on the vacuum, and it wasn't even on sale (do they EVER go on sale?). Hubby had told me many times to "go ahead and buy it, already!" But I'm quite a frugalite (well, most of the time) and was not going to do so unless I could save money on it. I set myself a goal of saving $100.

Lofty? Yep. But I did it.

Here's how:

• We had bought a new dryer back in July, and for that Home Depot sent me a $25 gift card.
• plus...
• Hubby was given a $50 American Express gift card from work for doing a good job, and he gave it to me. (Hubs, you rock.)
• plus...
• I used a "10% off any Home Depot purchase" coupon. That's worth $39.99 on the Dyson, so ...

All told, I saved $114.99 on my new toy! Happy dance, happy dance! Think "Snoopy"-kind of happy dance, and you'll know how I feel right now.

I told hubby that for my birthday, he could give me a note that says "Here's your Dyson." That would be more than enough for me.

It has been a good day. How's your day been?

Why I'm joining Curves (part 1)

Today I went to my local Curves gym. Around here, you can't swing a dead cat without hitting one. (Okay, I want to know what on earth would possess someone to swing a dead cat? That just can't be hygienic. Yuck.)

For anyone who's re-reading this, I edited out the disgusting part about someone actually swinging a dead cat.

Anyway.

I've been nervous about joining Curves because I am somewhat shy and worried about everyone looking at me. Plus I was afraid they would weigh me in public, which I always hate. I mean, I'm not overweight, but I've never been terribly thin, either. The scale is not my friend.

But my doctor's visit last week took care of the scale issue. There is no debating with those nurses - you get your tooshie on that scale or else. I did so, and while not terribly unhappy with what the scale said, I would still love to lose ten pounds or so by my birthday (which is November 3rd, so you may want to start shopping now. I'm just saying.).

So, having set aside my fear of a piece of metal and a dial (how stupid am I?), this morning finds me standing nervously at the entrance to Curves. I was motioned in by a lady at the front desk, so in I went. She looked at me expectantly, and I blurted out, "I want ... um ... sign up?" (Not cool at all. I felt like Chandler on "Friends" - "I want to quit the gym!") Dork.

Now this brings me to the reason I'm joining Curves: Despite my blatant "I'm-ready-to-part-with-thirty-bucks-a-month; here's-my-checkbook" intro, the nice lady says that they are offering a one-week-free deal, and that I could check it out for a few days before I sign up. I was like, what? No hard sell? What kind of establishment is this? Surely I was missing something.

But nope. I went on in, and the nice lady didn't even weigh me today! Woo-hoo! (That comes when I sign up "for real" next week.) Instead, she taught me the proper use of every single machine, and how the circuit worked. Music plays in the background, and every 30 seconds a voice automatically says "switch." There is no question about how long someone's been on a piece of equipment - you keep it moving. And once every few minutes, the voice tells everyone to stop and take their heart rate.

Half an hour later, I was flushed and exhilarated! I've never enjoyed a workout so much. And at the end, I got to go into a stretching/cooldown room, where a huge mirror hangs on one wall. One of the owners painted across the top "Objects in mirror may be smaller than they appear," which I thought was great.

All the ladies I met today were so sweet, too. I'm pretty sure I'm one of the youngest ones there, which makes me feel like I've got a real shot to get into shape before my birthday.

Which is November 3rd, y'all.

Science, hold the Fiction

Background, per emails between hubby and myself and K's science teacher:

I wrote to Hubby: K got a 71 (D) on last Friday's Honors science test, and a 63 (F) on the major lab they did at the same time. One of the deductions was "-5 for using pen instead of pencil." Give me a break - his mechanical pencil had broken, and it was the middle of a test, during which time the teacher won't let the kids up from their desks.

I wrote to Science teacher: Dear Ms. G, Wow, that was an awful test grade K brought home today. I want you to know that he studied every night (along with his dad and me) for several days before the test. We are all shocked at his score - him most of all. He is sitting here with tears of frustration running down his cheeks. As much work as he puts into this class, I can't say I blame him. Do you have any suggestions?

Ms. G wrote me back: Dear Ms. K's mom, I think moving to "regulars" will help with K's frustration level. I will talk to the counselor about this today, but you might also want to try and call her to see if that will speed things up. (In other words, don't let the proverbial door hit K in his proverbial butt.)

Me in Real Life: This morning I went to K's school to meet with his counselor. I told her that I wanted his science class switched, as his grades and self-esteem were plummeting each passing day. So lickety-split, she moved him into another science class. Same period and everything, which is great. We were worried that changing teachers would mess up his entire schedule; fortunately, that particular worry was all for naught.

K had a test today in his new science class, and he came home very happy about it. He said that all his studying had paid off, because he felt very confident about it. I am so happy for him. It's nice to see my child with a spring in his step again.

And hey - I think I found *my* springy step, too!

Off topic: Tonight I cooked dinner for the inlaws. I made Kimmer's awesome pork tenderloin with balsamic-cranberry sauce (only I made it with pork chops instead). It was To.Die.For. Everyone LOVED it. So Kimmer, I owe you one. Thanks so much! :)

Shout Outs

To EMT sis - Yay, you're a bloggin' mama now. Can't wait to read about all your Emu hijinks (once you're fully functional again). heehee

To Tnk - Yay for you, too! As funny as you are, I'm going to check for updates on your blog frequently, too. Props to the PoPo!

To Papi - I'm so glad I got you into blogging, too. Your writing talents are muy underappreciated - let's get out there and get you some exposure!

To T & J - Win anything this week? How's my inheritance coming along? ;)

To My In-Laws - Congrats, A, on your big court win! Boppa & Beaner - see ya tomorrow. C - uh, wassup? ;-)

To Kimmer, Shelly, and Katie - Thank you SO much for all the comments you guys leave on my blog. You make me feel so loved. ;) (((hugs))) to you all!

To Jen - I'm sorry I made you cry with my last blog entry. I lubs you.

To Diet Coke - You are wonderful. In fact, you're so addictive, there's probably some kind of illegal substance within your refreshing goodness. But I care not!

To Fried Cheese Sticks from Sonic - Simply put, you suck. My thighs and I hate you hate you hate you, you with all your tempting gooey goodness. Die!

To K's Science Teacher - You are evil in a whole different way. Go with the cheese sticks! :(

To All My Family Who Now Have Access To My Blog - Be nice to me or I'll run crying to all my Internet homies!

Quickie update on me, cuz I know you all care:

My arm still hurts. Not continuously, but continually.
I am bored with all the Accounting reading (but I plow ahead nonetheless).
Tomorrow my inlaws are coming for dinner, and I don't know what to cook.
But I'm a successful procrastinator, so I shall figure it out and amaze the masses!
(Amoo - if you and C want to come for dinner, please feel free to do so.)
I just issued my first official dinner invitation over the Internet. I feel so empowered!

And now, I'll leave you with this: Why does the light at the end of *my* tunnel always turn out to be a freight train?

Reflections

Not the looking-in-the-mirror kind, mind you. I'm speaking of the soul-searching kind.

Last night I went out with one of my best friends from high school. Jen and I met at a speech tournament when we were in junior high, but didn't become close until we joined the drill team in 9th grade (or was it 10th?). Anyway, we've always had so much to talk about - nothing overly cerebral; primarily dishing about who we've kept in touch with since high school - and last night was no exception. Except that this time there was a tinge of melancholy in our conversation ... an air of "have I done enough with my life?" and "am I really happy?"

Naturally, we all have these feelings from time to time. And we all reminisce about what could have been. Or should have been. Or, thank God, wasn't. As we strolled through the Marketplace, Jen and I often enjoyed a comfortable silence. Every now and then, we'd look into a shop window and ooh and aah about the luxurious furniture or beautiful clothing inside, but for the most part we just ambled around the park, our thoughts running hither and yon.

Things have changed over the past few years. I don't know if it's because we're both more mature now, but something is different. Initially, I thought it was because we're at different places in our lives, but I honestly don't think that's it. We're both married with children (although hers at four and almost two are considerably younger than my brood; thus our daily child-rearing experiences are very different), we're both going to college (another delayed regret on both our parts), and we both have very similar value systems. Plus, we truly like each other.

I don't know. In a way, I cherish this new chapter in our relationship. The chattiness we've always enjoyed has been replaced (albeit temporarily, I'm sure) with the feeling of it's-enough-to-know-you're-there. At least, that's how *I* feel. I hope she feels the same way....

Eventually the children will grow up, and Jen and I will grow old. I look forward to the day when we can while away an afternoon together and pretend to feel the freedom of youth once again. We can do that, can't we?

Angel love to you always, Jen.

Tennis, anyone?

Today I finally went to the doctor about my arm. Yay me.

Background: The week after we moved into this house, I decided that I could no longer live with the paisley-and-floral regurgitation that was splayed across the walls in our formal dining room. So I spent nine-plus hours taping, moving furniture, priming, and painting - two coats of primer; three coats of paint. Up and down the ladder, wheee!

The next day, I could not lift my right arm.

Since then - and that's been over two months now - I want to scream whenever I have to lift something like a milk jug or a suitcase or a child. I have taken Motrin, Tylenol, Aspirin, and even prescription muscle relaxants (from a former injury), all to no avail. It seems that the pain has taken up permanent residence in my arm.

I finally caved in yesterday and made an appointment to have it checked out. The doctor puts me through a bunch of "does this hurt?" ("Yes") and "don't let me push your arm down" ("Quit pushing it, then") tests, then finally comes up with a diagnosis:

Tennis Elbow.

That's a fancy name for "repetitive motion owie." It must be - I haven't touched a tennis racket in nearly 20 years. But I *did* pack up nearly our entire 2,600 sf house practically by myself, then unpacked all that junk by myself. The icing on the cake was the painting of the dining room. Ta-da!

So now I'm sporting a lovely putty-colored brace-like contraption on my right arm.

Tennis, anyone?

T.T.T.

I have started and re-started this entry four times now. The paragraph went from a novel: "the moment a baby is placed into our arms..." to the simpler: "why don't kids come with an instruction manual?" to the desperate: "never mind; I just need a hug." I'm leaning towards the latter, as I am completely spent from dealing with frustrating teachers and front-office wenches who do not deliver messages.

Nutshell:

K is not doing well academically or emotionally in Honors Science.

Teacher's attitude is "tough tookies."

My gander: Up.

Pounding out of email from frustrated mama ensues.

Tough Tookies email response from teacher is received.

T.T. Teacher implies K may need to be in different class.

Mama puts in call to school counselor.

Three hours later, mama calls again because previous message has apparently been sucked into a void.

Counselor agrees to look into "regular" science class for K.

Mama: now worried about K not wanting to change his schedule.

And on it goes.

Anyone have a Parenting 101 Textbook I can borrow? I just need to see the chapters on "Surviving Sucky Teachers." Thanks.

Sky High

Hubby took the kids and me to see this movie yesterday. It was a great time to go, because unbeknownst to us, the movie theater had a $4 special going on. I don't remember the last time all five of us went to see a movie for $20 (rentals notwithstanding, natch).

The movie was really funny - adults and kids alike will enjoy it. Lynda Carter plays the school principal, and she has a great line near the end of the movie. I won't give it away, but I will say that it *still* has me snickering. Ha!

Personally, I appreciated Sky High mostly (at first) because it was live action and not animated. If I never see another animated flick, it will be too soon. But I digress.

If you get a chance to see Sky High, go for it.

Labor of love

Greetings and salutations! I hope everyone had a good weekend. Ours was pretty good. Saturday was spent cleaning house and shopping, and Sunday we celebrated the in-law's 40th anniversary in style.

I'd hired a limousine to drive us around all night, and it got to our house around 6:00. Hubby, his sister, her husband, our three kids, and I all piled in. The limo was supposed to seat ten, but it was sure cozy in there! We then drove over to the in-law's house to pick them up. All this had been kept a secret from them, but somehow dad-in-law figured it out. (He also shakes his Christmas presents before he opens them; a habit I've been working nearly fifteen years to break him of. Grrr....)

After gathering the parents, we took the kids to my stepdad's for the evening. Everyone thought it was cool that they drove up in a limo - J (stepdad's girlfriend) even had her video camera out. She is such a cutie.

Then we adults headed to dinner at a really nice restaurant called Perry's. Wow, cha-ching. Of course, money was no object on such a special occasion, but still, wow. The food was very good, the service was outstanding, and the company was great. We'd all split a bottle of wine in the car, then had two more bottles at dinner, so all six of us were quite sparkly-eyed. I recall a lot of laughing, but I don't recall what we were laughing about. Figures.

After dinner, the limo brought us all back to our house, where we had this amazing cake that sis-in-law had ordered. She had the cake-lady recreate the original wedding cake, which I thought was the coolest idea ever. We'd gussied up the formal dining room, so it looked very weddingy in there.

Overall, I think the parents were surprised and pleased with how things turned out. So happy anniversary again, Mom and Dad. We love you!

(Denine, they share your anniversary - I was thinking of you all day, too!) :)

Next month: OUR 15th anniversary. Whatever shall we do?

Who's hiding the wedding bells?

How hard is it to find simple, white plastic wedding bells, a'la this:

I'll tell you - it's darn near impossible. I've been to five stores - FIVE! - looking for the bells so that I can recreate the decoration on the top of this cake for my in-law's 40th anniversary this weekend. And I can't find the darn things. I've tried Party City, Hobby Lobby, Michaels, another no-name party store, and even Big Lots (where I found a large bag of white silk flower petals for less than a dollar! Score!), but no bells.

I finally made a desperate trip to Garden Ridge Pottery this morning. Success at last. That $2.99 bag of bells (the very last bag, by the way - guess they're not as "out of style" as I'd been told) probably ended up costing me $15 in gas and untold amounts of stress. But [deep cleansing breath] my wonderful in-laws are worth it, aren't they? ;)

Doctor doctor

Ever have one of those nights where you're so afraid something is terribly wrong with your child? And you crawl into bed with them to watch them sleep? And they get annoyed in their sleep because, come on mom, you're crowding my space? And you're like, I don't care; as long as I'm looking at you, you won't die?

Does anyone know what I mean? Or have I completely fallen out of touch with reality?

Loco or not, I had that experience last night. R, my 9-year-old, has been complaining that his legs "really hurt" sometimes. This has been going on for over a year now. I had taken him to the doctor in Podunk, Texas, who looked R over and announced in so many words that growing pains are a bitch, son. I let it go for a long time, until ...

... yesterday. Then R came home from school crying and telling me that he had fallen down twice on the way to the bus. No, he was not tripped. No, he was not pushed. His legs just gave out.

Then the kicker: "It's not just my leg. My chest really hurts, mom. On the inside."

Oh
My
God.

I gave him some Motrin for the pain, because that is all I know how to do. Motrin is the great cure-all around here (read: the kids like the flavor and that is all they will take and Tylenol makes them throw up and yuck and therefore I don't even buy that red crap anymore). After an hour or so, R tells me that the pressure in his chest is down "some."

So, la la la, evening goes on. But then - da da DUM! - night has the audacity to fall. How DARE it get dark when I'm worried about my kid? Doesn't the dark know that kids get sicker and moms get panickier when the sun goes down? How rude of nightness.

Thus my trek into R's room, where he is sleeping soundly and breathing just fine. I climbed up onto the top bunk (didn't know I had it in me, didja?) and rested with him for awhile. Well, HE rested. I cried and worried. After awhile, I realized that I needed to get some sleep or else I'd go crazy, so I crawled back down and went back to bed with hubby. Who, by the way, was not sleeping either. (You're a good daddy, hubby.)

This morning R was fine, except for the limp. I sent him to school, but immediately looked up a doctor on our insurance and made an appointment. So today was a short school day for R. Funny, I didn't hear any complaints about that.... Anyway, the doctor spent a lot of time with R (Dr. L, you rock), and after much poking and prodding and manipulations of the legs, told us that R had strained his calf muscle but good, and he needed to rest it for at least a week. Then he gave R a "No P.E." pass that is good for a week. After that time, if R is still hurting, we're to go back.

Hmm, no running around in this Texas heat? What a tragedy. Bleh.

By the way, R's heart and lungs sounded perfect, and the doc thinks R either ate his lunch too fast, or had a little anxiety about the falling down episodes. Or both. He said that if the chest pains continue, we can do more tests, but for now he's not worried at all. The leg muscle was the only real problem today.

So there you have it. Looks like my little guy is going to be okay. And tonight, I plan to stay in my own bed and dream of happy things. Like maybe a shiny new Dyson!

Yesterday's theme: Tex Mex

I drove down to hubby's office to have lunch with him for the first time yesterday. Finally got to meet the peeps! None of them look the way I'd pictured them, which may or may not be a good thing. heh

We ate lunch at a little place called Berry Hill. They serve burritos and enchiladas and the like - but this ain't your mama's Tex-Mex fare, nosirree. My burrito was as big as a dinner plate and very spicy (yum!). It also cost $8.99, but what do you expect in the Houston Galleria area? The food was good, but the company was better. I lubs my dh.

As we left the restaurant, we couldn't find the car for a minute - which totally freaked us both out because (1) it's a 10-year-old POS, and (b) we've been through the stolen-car thing before. We eventually found our little Saturn behind a large Cadillac SUV. I think the poor car was intimidated by all the rich cars and got embarrassed and decided to hide.

Last night we had hubby's mother over for dinner. I made fajitas (hmm, I see a food pattern here), which were good. The homemade guacamole was awesome. Thanks, mom, for passing that recipe down to me. I miss you.

What else did I do yesterday ... ? Well, I dropped my government class because the professor has a screw loose. I'll be re-registering for government with another prof, who came highly recommended by one of my friends. (Thanks, J! I love ya! [waving]) Accounting class starts in two weeks, and THAT one I'm looking forward to.

Well, gotta get outta here and gas up the car quickly because the gas prices have shot through the roof around here (thanks for NOTHING, Katrina). I also told K I'd take him to school today, so I'd better get right on that.

Y'all have a good day now, ya hear?

Now playing: Wookin' pa nub

(That's "Looking for Love," Eddie Murphy-style, for those who may have missed the SNL episode. :)

Not much going on today. I got sick Saturday night (more like Sunday wee-hours) and have been feeling sluggish since. I think I ate something "wrong" at the party on Saturday, and it decided to make a reappearance in the middle of the night. Sorry, I know that's icky.

After the, um, episode, I laid down on the bathroom floor because the tiles were nice and cool on my pounding head and lurching stomach. Hubby came upstairs and found me there, and said it looked like I'd been shot. In retrospect, that sounds pretty funny. heh. Wouldn't have been quite as amusing if he'd been right, methinks.

Today I'm not as nauseated, but my head hurts. I think I may be a bit dehydrated, so I've been drinking decaf tea and hoping that would cure what ails me. It helped somewhat; I feel a little better, but still may need to take some Tylenol. I hate headaches.

It just started raining really hard here. I mean JUST - like while I was typing "Tylenol." Now I'm hearing loud thunderclaps. You know what this means? It means I get to wade down the driveway and greet the school buses with an umbrella. Not a particularly enticing thought, but the kids appreciate it, which makes it all worthwhile.

Off to roll up the legs of my jeans and find that umbrella....

(Oh, and now playing is "Every Morning" by Sugar Ray. :)

Stuffing Priscilla

BWAHAHAAAAAAAAAA!

I haven't watched "Trading Spaces" in over a year, but OMG tonight's episode had me on the floor! I love whoever at TLC came up with the idea to trick Doug and Hildi - never were there two individuals more deserving of a prank than they.

In order to understand the title, you'll have to watch the show. Here's a quick preview for you.

[mwah!] to the Trading Spaces crew. You gave me the best belly laugh I've had in ages. Thanks. =D

Party animal

The party was a success! Both honorees were completely surprised, which was great because gimpy sis and I had gone through a lot to ensure that certain information did not reach certain people. My police-sister loved the donut "cake," which was decorated on the fly with two tubes of icing that I didn't realize were tip-less (in other words, the donuts had gloppy frosting spilling down the sides instead of the pretty little florets I wanted to do). It was a yummy success anyway, and I'll ask sis to send me the picture she took so I can post it.

The other cake (for sdad's S.O.) was a delicious red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting. This cake may well have been the most delicious cake I've ever had. Props to the Kroger bakery.

We spent the day visiting with the family, and the kids spent a few hours in the pool. They had a great time, and I'm so glad they got to go because this may very well be their last dip until next summer - since school started, our neighborhood pool is closed more than it is open. Phooey.

Well, I'm exhausted and will be heading to bed soon. I was up very late last night helping sis because she was having a rough time with some surgery issues. I feel for her. She was much better today, so hopefully she's back on track to a full recovery.

Completely unrelated, yet worth noting: Kroger had vine-ripened tomatoes this week, which smelled so fresh I felt like I'd just picked them myself. I wouldn't recommend putting them on cake, though. :)

Stressed

Must be a recurring theme around these parts. Seems like everyone's feeling it right now. I guess it's because the lazy days of summer are behind us.

I've got a gajizillion things to do today in preparation for a double-whammy surprise party tomorrow. (How do I get myself into these things? Oh yeah, it's because I love my family; all of them, darn it.) Anyway, we're having a surprise "congratulations" party for my sister for successfully graduating from the police academy, plus a surprise "happy birthday" party for my s-dad's significant other. Best of all, they're simultaneous parties! Fun! I'm freakin' nuts!

So ... today I am taking other sis to physical therapy at 10:30, then taking her home and making sure she's comfy and fed, then straightening up her house because tomorrow's parties are at her house cuz she has a pool. Then I have to come home, meet two school buses - both of which had BETTER have all my kids on them! I'm going to be counting heads, so look out, bus driver people! - and get the kids snack'ed and homework'ed. Then I have to pack because I'm going back to sis's house to spend the night and decorate the house for tomorrow.

Sometime today I also need to go to the college bookstore and buy my government and accounting textbooks. And I have to get a birthday cake, and some donuts (police-sis's "cake" will be made of donuts. Get it? I crack myself up!) And I want to run by the dollar store and get some little trinkety handcuffs and other such police decor.

But first, I have to get K on the bus, which comes in 7 minutes.

Do you think I have time for a nap?

Just had to share

I love this picture. P attended an etiquette class this summer, and this was taken on her graduation day. She loves dressing up, so she was totally in her element.

Dang!

Well, we're not going to Italy. Hubby thinks it would be better to spend Thanksgiving here with the children, so here we shall stay. I am terribly disappointed. I love my kids with all my heart, and I would miss them like crazy, but at the same time I hate that we're passing up a pretty good opportunity. [pout] [stamp] [grumble] [throw something] [I didn't really throw anything] [but I wanted to]

Hubby already knows I'm blue about this decision, so all my rantings are just for you guys. Aren't you lucky? Whee!

Onward ...

I spent today with my sis (ACL-surgery sis, that is). I took her to physical therapy, which is apparently some kind of medieval torture chamber wherein they stretch you out to ungodly shapes and then beat you down with insults like "wimp." Sis thinks the PT guy had a former career in a touchy-feely field, like drill sergeant or junior high coach.

Speaking of the family gimps (that's our loving term for my limp-y sis), hubby's grandmother is now out of the hospital but is in convalescent care. She does seem to be improving, which is wonderful news. Thanks to all who put her on their prayer lists and in their thoughts. You guys rock!

This afternoon, all kidlets made it home and accounted for with no major problems. Props to the bus! Keep up the good dropping off! But of course there is a school supply "need" - R has to take tweezers to class tomorrow. He said they're going to dissect "something." Er, okay...

I don't even want to know. (I betcha Italy knows, though.)

Home again, home again

The kids, that is. I had to wait outside so that the new driver on R & P's bus would stop, but K made it home just fine.

I'm sick to death of the bus problems. But darn it, the buses are there for a reason. I shouldn't have to drive the kids to school every day just because the drivers for this district are idjits. Plus, no one wants to see me in my robe and curlers at 7:00 a.m., that's for sure.

Hubby is having a terrible day at work. His boss is a numbnuts, and she is making his life (thus, our lives) miserable. Thanks for nothing, beyotch. Here's a novel idea: try a little more ... oh, I don't know ... communicating, could you?

I spent the day taking care of my sister (remember, the one who had ACL surgery?) and helping her out around the house. She always feels very guilty when people help her, but what she doesn't realize is that we're glad to do it! So sis, please, stop feeling guilty and worrying about any of us doing too much. Trust me, we won't do too much. We're much too lazy for that, ya know.

Guess I'd better get dinner started. Tonight will be a mishmash of spaghetti squash, ricotta, parmesan, ground beef, mushrooms, tomatoes, and pickles. Okay, maybe no pickles. That would be gross.

Revenge of the bus

Today K's bus comes by at 4:10. I am stoked because this means all my little chicks are back in the nest early. Only - they're not. The bus stops and one person gets off. And it ain't K.

So I turn into Flo Jo and take off running around the block, trying to flag the bus driver down. Naturally, he does not see me. So I race back home, grab the car keys, and drive like a madwoman toward the school, all the while hoping that I'll either catch up to the bus or find that K just happened to miss it and was waiting patiently for me in front of the school (yeah, right).

Meanwhile, I'm calling 411 and trying to get the number to the school so that they can tell me if my baby is sitting there crying and wanting his mommy. In all my panicking, I give the nice lady at 411 the name of the wrong school. Hello! We've moved! K no longer goes to WMS, idiot. That only took me two tries (and $2.50) to figure out.

Sooooo ... I call home while pulling into the parking lot of the school. I am met with the answering machine and continue to babble into it "helloooooo, it's moommmmm, pick up the phoooone, I'm going to keep talking until you dooooo..." until finally R picks up. He says, "Sorry I didn't answer sooner, mom. I was unlocking the front door for K."

Mixed feelings of anger and relief wash over me. I ask to talk to K, who comes to the phone in tears because he missed his stop and had to walk three blocks to get home, and now thinks I'm mad at him (okay, I was, a little). Now, a little walking won't kill anyone, but the bus driver annoys me - he told K "this is my last stop; you have to get off. Your street is that way," and jerks his finger backwards. Then he put.my.child.off.the.bus.

The more I think about it, the madder I get. I seriously doubt that tossing a kid off the bus is protocol. K is new to the area. He wasn't sure where he was, and could easily have gotten lost. OMG, we're so lucky he got home in one piece.

I'll be calling to talk to the bus driver's boss tomorrow. Lord, please don't let me get the evil transportation lady ...