Monkeys! Monkeys! Everywhere!

So, what does a 44 1/2 year old peri-menopausal woman do who is at home with a two year old?  (Yes, I know I've aged in just a few weeks.  Apparently I have a hang up about being 44.  My husband informed me that I typed the wrong age on my menopausal announcement post.  It's not the first time I've done that.  I seem to tell doctors the same thing.  Annsley has corrected me in front of them.  On a personal note, I think my hubby needs to find that marriage book that tells him women don't want to be reminded of their age.  He lost valuable brownie points that night...)

OK, back on track. 

The hormonal driven woman paints the kids' bathroom with monkeys!!!! (You didn't guess that? You're kidding!!)   I think I announced it to the girls like I was going to fix scrambled eggs--ya know, no big deal. I searched all over the internet for ideas, combined different heads and bodies of monkeys, drew out my patterns on butcher paper and then armed myself with a pencil, a huge eraser, gobs of green acrylic paint and lots of deep breaths. TWENTY-TWO HOURS later they got this:



Everyone needs jungle vines wrapped around their head as they sit on the potty, don't you think?




Monkey #1 squatting beside the bathtub.




And his cousin...




Sure Annsley, I'll put something beside your sink.  Hey, how about another floor to ceiling tree?  I've got nothing but time on my hands...




And, of course, every jungle needs a toucan!

 It had been a long time (since high school??? eeks!) since I had painted anything other than walls or stencils. I thought surely I had enough of my talented grandma to pull this off. I was a bit nervous though. It was a daunting idea, but I knew I had enough base coat paint to repaint the bathroom if I bombed. My shading is a bit off, but I think they turned out OK. 

Adoption Ban Update

Please pray for the 46 families who are currently waiting to pick up their children.  I am so saddened and angered that these orphans are being played as pawns in a political move.  Here is a link to the latest news coming out about the potential ban.  If you haven't signed the petition to support US adoption of Russian children, please go to my adoption blog and read December 23, 2012 post. 

LINK TO NEWS ARTICLE

Falling in love with Rural America

Have I told you recently how much I love living in our new little town? 

It wasn't a fluke about the pharmacist coming out from behind the counter and helping me select my over the counter medicine.  He did it again the other day. 

I was going to comment on the post office to Doug a few days ago. I began, "Can you believe how the post office ladies" and he interrupts me and finishes with "how nice they are???" 

We're like two kids walking around Disney World for the first time.  We probably go around town with our tongue hanging out of our mouths. 

One of our family Christmases was thrawted to another time and place due to Kennedi waking up in the middle of the night Thursday with the stomach bug that has been going around the school.  Our county library was having a showing of The Polar Express for the elementary kids Friday evening, so Annsley opted for that.  I loved the fact that several of the hosts there already knew my daughter, and I could feel safe leaving her in her pajamas at a public forum at 6:30 at night.

I love this little library.  It's like it was caught in a time warp.  It is filled with books I haven't seen since I was a little kid.  And so many of them have that camel colored velvety feeling that only very worn hardback books get.  And that smell.  A little bit of dirt and old paper.  It gets me all tingly.  Doug doesn't understand AT ALL. 

Anyway, I was driving by the courthouse after dropping Annsley off, and the lawn is covered in decorated Christmas trees AND the 3 wise men and a manger scene.  I LOVE THAT. 

Annsley started throwing up yesterday.  Her uncle asked, "What'd she eat?"  If you are new to my blogs, I wrote an entire expose on guys and throw up way back HERE. Doug has the "high trots and thin scatters"  right now. So glad Andrei and I have good, healthy genes!

I have put up a new blog post on our adoption blog.  Russia is very close to deciding to ban US citizens from adopting their children once and far all.  It infuriates me to think that politics trump the well being of their children who are in desperate need of a family.  Click HERE to read about it. 

Have a very Merry Christmas. 

SOLD!

We signed the papers on our old house last Wednesday.  That is relief beyond measure.  Now we can look at getting some flooring down and saying goodbye to our purple carpet that crinkles when you walk in certain spots.   Did I tell you what our carpet cleaner said when we had the carpets cleaned before we moved in? 

No? 

I didn't think so, and I didn't even go back into my archives to double check.  He said he wasn't able to get out a few stains. I told him that was OK.  We weren't planning on keeping it.  He said, "I didn't think you would."  Enough said right there, don't you think?

Anyway....as we approached the last few days of double home ownership, I began thinking about all the things I would miss and NOT miss about our old house.  Here's a brief run down: (I'm telling you now-- hold on to your seats.  You might not be able to handle this!)

I'll miss being able to watch Annsley and Kennedi drive their battery powered jeeps all over the pasture.  They were truly 4 wheel little vehicles--unless they ran over a yucca plant.  That would stop them in their tracks every time. Nasty little cactus weeds.

I'll miss watching Annsley do her mud cooking on top of the gun range.  She found an abandoned aluminum slide, some fencing material, and old pots in a junk pile on our property and set up a little play area at the gun range. She dragged the slide probably 200 feet all by herself one afternoon.  Independent little thing would you say?

I'll miss Annsley catching horny toads, especially the baby ones. And I guess I'll include all the tarantulas here as well.  They did nothing for me, but they brought my oldest daughter joy beyond description.

This is the house that Kennedi learned to ride a bike without training wheels. 

I'm very much missing our master bathroom right now.  Our new house's master bath is tiny, and Doug and I haven't had to share a sink in 21 years. 

I miss our huge covered back porch.  I miss looking at our beautiful awesome sunsets.

I'll not miss the wind.  We lived on top of a hill.  No wind breaks in sight.  There were some days that I thought the back porch ceiling fans were spinning so fast that they would certainly fly off and become a deadly weapon.  40-50 mph winds nearly daily in the spring--all day long--all night long and the sandy dirt that came with it.

All the ants.  The red ones on the ground and the flying ones that showed up the first week or so in June.  Of course, with all the ant beds we had a plethora of horned frogs running around which my girls enjoyed immensely.  (Well, Kennedi and Andrei not so much.) 

Sand burrs.  Do I need to really go into detail about these stickers from hell?  I'll bet we dug up 1000s over the course of 3 years.  I. HATE. THEM. 

The black widows.  We had our fair share of them.  I will say, however, I pick those things over the Brown Recluse which we had at our new home.  At least black widows make nasty, sticky webs and stay around their webs.  Brown recluses are nasty little brown spiders not known for web making and like coming out to feed at night when you are asleep.  (And as a side note, if anyone in my area needs a good pest guy, I'll get you the name and number.  We knew we had a problem before we moved in, so we had our pest guy do his thing before we actually moved.  He said it was the most brown recluse infested house he'd seen in 25 years.  They sprayed carpet, every drawer, every cabinet, every crack, dusted the attic, etc.  The arachnid carnage that was found the day after the exterminators left was simply short of amazing. We haven't seen a creature AT ALL for the last two months, and yesterday he gave us the go ahead to start putting stuff back in our attic. Whoo Hoo!)

Enough reminiscing.  Our dog chewed up a soccer ball yesterday.  She dumped the outside toy bucket and chewed every cup, plate, baseball bat, and glove that was in it.  Our back yard resembles a small scale war zone.  I keep telling myself that every day she lives, she is one day closer to becoming an adult dog. 

"M"s the word...

Welcome to a frank, honest post.  (Well, actually all of my posts are honest, but this one is all about me.)

I'm getting old.

I'm 43 1/2 (almost), I've found more than 10 gray hairs to pluck out in the last 6 months, and I'm in the middle of peri-menopause hell. There, I said it.  That's so freeing.  Maybe there's a group.  An 800 hotline.  If not for us ladies, then at least one for our bewildered husbands. 

It's OK, Honey.  I'm bewildered at the whole thing as well.  The last thing my gynocologist said to me was, "Well, let me know when you can't stand those ungodly hot flashes or night sweats any more." 

And what else can I look forward too???

I didn't know there was such a thing as peri-menopause.  I just thought you woke up one morning and were menopausal.  Apparently, there is a transition period from the time you show symptoms until you fall off the reproductive cliff.  And, I have since learned that the "powers that be" have dubbed the time before you reach the time of peri-menopause as well.  That's called pre-menopause.  Duh. 

I just keep thinking about one of my favorite movies, Father of the Bride II, and that whole discussion of menopause and Diane Keaton sifting through the books on the nightstand...The Silent Passage, The Change.  Gag!  It just seems so old. Steve Martin gets it.  He gets me.  Menopause.  It's an old word. 

I actually cried the night when my doctor's office called with my blood work results after I had gone three months without any sign of menstruation in sight.  "Your blood work is elevated," her nurse told me over the phone.  "What does that mean?"  I've had blood work done about every 6 months as my cycles were so out of wack, but I had never gone over 90 days without one before.  "Well, it means you're entering menopause," Teneesa said. 

"Aren't I a little young?  A lot young?"  I asked.  "Well, average age is between 43-50. You might be in the low end of the range but not unusual," she says.  I got off the phone, went to bed that night without saying anything to Doug, and cried about 5:00 in the morning. 

Doug, being the compassionate man I fell in love with years ago hugged me and said, "Oh, it'll be OK." I think he was just glad to know that there might be a reason for the introduction to my fangs and the fact that the house needed to be no hotter than 60 degrees at night for the last several months.  "It's like the end of an era," I sobbed. 

He laughed.

We've had several interesting conversations over the last few months.  I arrive at the dinner table on night and Annsley says as I sit down, "Mom, Daddy says your hormes aren't right."

"Hormes?"

"That's what Daddy says.  That's why you get so mad so much these days.  It'll be OK.  We just have to stay out of your way."

Really. So he and the children have been discussion my estrogen levels. Lovely.

And then just two days ago, my oldest tells me after a particularly brutal afternoon, "Mom, you know your brain isn't working right. You need to leave my room NOW." I'm still debating on whether that is disrepectful of her however true it may be...

And then today driving home from church...I comment to Doug that I'm going to have to get to the eye doctor.  I find myself looking under my glasses half the time to read.  I know that can't be a good sign  in the aging process.

Doug says, "Hey, why don't you look into laser surgery?  That would be good.  I think you would look great."

I raise my eyebrow at him.  He continues. "It would be a gift. (And he starts laughing) You need to gift yourself during your time of transition.  You know, your season...Hey--it'll be my Christmas present to you."

My season? So that's what it's called...

My mother keeps asking me if I've gotten the progesterone cream ordered.  Yes, Mother, I have it, but I haven't used it yet.  She tells me I should.  It would be better for everyone she says.

So, it seems that I've been a hot topic around these parts. I haven't taken any drugs yet--haven't broken the seal on the progesterone cream as recommended by Dr. John Lee and his book What Your Doctor May Not Tell You About Menopause book.  I have taken some Menopause Support vitamins though.  I really think they help with the insomnia and night sweats.  Obviously Doug thinks they help with my Jekyll and Hyde mood swings.  I woke up one morning after I had a horrid evening to find both bottles of Menopause Support on top of the coffee pot.

He had already left for work that day, but I had to laugh at his attempt at subtleness. 

What a tricky, web infested path he must forge.  I hate thinking my children will look back on these days as "remember Mom during her crazy phase." My saving grace is I've heard that men go through it too.  I'm waiting not so patiently. 

X Rated Post!!

We finally have a contract on our house. Whoo Hoo!! Making two mortgage payments has been about a -1 on the Fun-O-Meter these days. Andrei and I have been busy the last week going back and forth picking up those items that "Oh, we'll get them later" kinda stuff.  (Pictures, baskets, window treatments, area rugs, etc.) In fact, there was so much stuff that we have had to make several trips.  Poor Andrei.  On the last trip, the giant mirror I had crammed into the Jeep was leaning on his car seat for support.  Good thing he is not claustrophobic.  He had brooms and mirrors and lamp shades bouncing all around him. 

While sweeping out the dead flies, Gus, our neighbor's dog, ran into our yard.  I had a flashback to earlier this summer...

We had a female dog show up at our house on morning.  Someone had obviously dumped her out.  She was fat.  Not very pretty.  Solid red.  I called her Red Dog.  She decided to make her temporary housing under our porch.  I finally called the sheriff's to come get her after she made it clear that she preferred our house over any others.  I made the call about 2 days too late. 

My three little innocent children were eating their wholesome breakfast their wonder mom had created for them one blissfully sunny day, and I look out our dining window and to my horror Gus is doing his manly duty to Red Dog right there on our porch. 

"Oh my goodness!" I yell.

Kennedi says matter of factly, "Oh Momma.  Daddy says that is Gus's new trick."

Obviously Red Dog has been in heat for a while now, and my children have already seen it.

"His new trick?"

Kennedi nods her head and shrugs her shoulders.  That's not going on during my watch, so I open up the back door and yell at Gus.  He dismounts, and well, let's just say he was now stuck. Red Dog outweighs him by several pounds and pulls him down the porch steps. 

Oh dear.  What have I done?  My neighbor's dog is fixing to be minus an important body part.  Maybe if I close the door and ignore it, it will all go away. 


After breakfast I hear Annsley from the living room." Mom, look at Gus and Red Dog! What are they doing?"

Oh my stars! Are those two at it again???!!!

They (this gruesome twosome) have made their way to the front of my yard.  Gus is being dragged in reverse.  It's been 15 minutes. Perhaps he needs a vet.  I'm not really up on this breeding thing, but this must be painful.

I call Doug.  I explain the situation and ask, "How long are they going to be stuck?  Should I be worried?" 

Incredulously he says, "Oh, it'll take 30 minutes or so. Don't you know that?"

"Gus is being dragged all over the place.  His hind end is in the air and his front paws are the only thing on the ground."

"He'll be fine," and Doug hangs up on me. 

I don't know why he's acting like I should know these things.  He doesn't act like that.  I have no experience in such scandalous going ons. 

I close the blinds.  I can't bear to watch Gus become gelded--or a eunoch-- or whatever. 

Later that afternoon, Red Dog returned to her porch dwelling-minus an attached  Gus.  I later saw Gus running around chasing a tennis ball.  Either he survived his amputation with all the class an Australian Shepard could muster, or he was fine just like Doug said he would be--probably the latter (although becoming an amputee survivor would make a much better story!)

To this day, we don't talk about it. I'm still dealing with the fact that my children saw raw mother nature and call it a "new trick".   It will be one of those memories burned into the recesses of my mind that  I bring from our former home however.  (Sigh). My children had to grow up that summer morning. 

Needing: Boy Toys

I have been acutely aware over the last few months that we are needing some honest to goodness boy toys around here.  Andrei is constantly remaking one of the girls old toys into something that roars, cuts, or creates a noise that it was not expressly designed.  Here is his latest "conversion."  He takes the dust buster part of Kennedi's play vacuum and reinvents it as a saw.  Pathetic I know.

You need a serious face to do this kind of work.  Pants might come in  handy as well. 

Cutting down the ficus tree.

 Their Momma Carol got them these awesome tracks.  Hot Wheels, a little space, and no batteries.  Andrei loves getting them out. 

And doesn't my 90s couch look awesome with my 90s purple carpet??!! I knew from the beginning that this house was destined for us! LOL

So, my question for you with boys, what are some great boy toys for a little boy nearing the 3 year old mark? 

(And yes, my boy is shaggy in these photos.  He needs a haircut constantly.  I've never seen hair grow like his.  The good part is we've found a barber here in our little town.  He's a grandpa, is open on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays and charges $10 a haircut.  Whoo Hoo!)

Graduation!

Kennedi has tested out of speech therapy!  I am so proud of her.  She'd been going to speech for 3 years, and last month she was tested and is performing above average for her age! Whoo Hoo! Three years ago when she was tested, she was performing in the bottom 3%.  She has come a long, long way!

She never talked.  She preferred to grunt and scream.  I'd try to get her to say something and she'd just smile and nod her head.  There was no buying a vowel from that child. She had something like 10 words at 2 years old. Maybe 10. Maybe.  When she was 15 months, we had her hearing and speech tested.  Hearing was OK.  She qualified for speech, (of course you do when you just say Ma and da at a year and 1/2.), and so I loaded her up at 7:30 the first morning of her speech therapy.  I watched the therapist put her in a high chair, get some animals out, and then begin playing and making sounds like a cow.  Kennedi of course said nothing.  Later at home that same day, I got out a cow, said moo to Kennedi, handed the cow to her and she said "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO." 

OK, so it's a motivational thing with you, I thought.  She can hear, she can talk (but only if she wants to), so like a bad parent I cancelled the speech therapy sessions.  I figured at $85 an hour, I could get my own plastic animals out and sound like a barnyard for a lot less.  She'll talk when she's good and ready. 

And really, we didn't see much of a vocabulary utter out of her mouth until she turn 2 1/2.  And then nobody could understand her.  But talk she did.  I was her main interpreter.  Poor little thing.  She was 3 but talked like a 12 month old.  But, after a year of speech therapy, my oh my, the difference that finally made.  And she talks and talks and talks and talks.  To everyone.  Literally. 

So, yesterday was her 3 year ARD Review.  I reminded Doug about it Monday.  I had it on the calendar.  11:00 AM.

I didn't look at the calendar yesterday.  I don't know why.  11:01 Amber (her speech therapist) calls me.  "Are you planning on coming to Kennedi's ARD?" 

Thank goodness it only takes me 8 blocks to get to the school.  I show up with my tongue hanging out and dressed in my stay at home mom clothing--sweats and a t-shirt.  Yeah, the principal's wife is impressing a lot of folks today!  Doug said, "I'm so glad you're so comfortable in your skin." 

Funny Honey.

Anyway, we celebrated Kennedi's graduation with ice-cream last night.  Ice-cream that she picked out at our neighborhood Thriftway after school.  And although I am not a spokesperson for Blue Bunny, this stuff she picked out was waaaaaay good! You must try it.  There is yummy icing in the middle! Yeah Baby!!!

I'm not a big ice-cream fan, but these were so awesome.  There are 5 of them left sitting in my freezer as I type this.  I want one.  But should I choose to devour one--or two--they are little--I will suffer the ire of my 8 year old.  She has already told me she'll be checking the freezer when she gets home today to make sure everything is as it was.

Life in a Small Town

Our new "city" is small.  Like 2000 people small.  I haven't lived in a small town since I graduated high school.  The college I attended was in a small Oklahoma town, but I don't count that.  A college town just doesn't have the same feel. Too many strangers are popping in and out all year long.  Some people think 35,000 is a small town.  That would be true if all you had known was Oklahoma City, Amarillo, Austin, etc.  I lived and taught in a 35,000 town. Yes, it does have that small town "feel," but it was never a really small town in my opinion.

I have been amazed and blessed by strangers in this town.  Of course, when you live in such a small town, everyone here knows you are the new guy. There is no Wal-Mart; there is no Jump-N-Jive; there is no chimney sweeper. But, the experiences I have so far have been refreshing. 

#1~On moving day, Doug took the tool box with the allen wrench in it back to our old house to get another load of stuff. I was assigned to getting the beds all put together.  Kennedi's bed required an allen wrench.  I called Doug and he told me there was a parts house on Main Street.  The owner (I think) who is also the town mayor couldn't find the size I needed in his inventory.  So, he loaned me his mechanic's allen wrench from the back of the store.  That wouldn't have happened in our previous city!

#2~I was mailing a package the other day, and the lady at the post office read the return address.  "Oh, I've heard good things about your husband," she says.  In my most cordial and intellegient voice I uttered, "Huh?"    I was taken aback how in the world she knew who I was.  "Your husband is Doug, right? I heard wonderful things about him at the game last week."  Yes, small town people are always at the the Friday night football game and talk about the new people in town.  I don't think in 7 years of going to the post office in our prior town the people at the post office knew who I was.  Just a regular face at the window...

#3~I was at the pharmacy last week looking for some over the counter medicine for Annsley.  It has been a long, long, long time since a pharmacist walked out from behind the counter, asked me questions about her, and picked out the best congestion medicine for her.  I was in such a state of shock.  I must go back and tell him how impressed I was by that.  I just walked out in such a daze of "wow--that is service!" 

#4~Andrei and I usually make a quick run to our neighborhood Thriftway grocery store once a week after we drop off the girls at school.  While I'm paying out, the grocery bagger asks me what car I am in--there are 2 cars in the parking lot so she couldn't tell. (Yes, they bag your groceries and take them outside for you.)  By the time Andrei and I get to the car, she's already loaded all my groceries in my vehicle.  (Of course, this only works if you don't lock your car door.  And I haven't felt the need to lock my door since we moved here.  Ever.  I've just been trying to break the habit of NOT locking it.)

I LOVE all this stuff.  Maybe the new hasn't worn off yet, but it's good so far! I love the fact that my kids are safe.  That they can ride their bikes to the park and chances are slim they will not get run over even if Kennedi doesn't check the traffic at the intersections.  That I'm not sent in panic mode when Annsley leaves the back yard and heads down the alley to see our neighbor without telling anyone.  Doug and I had always talked about moving back to a small town to raise kids as we both came from small towns.  So far it's been a great decision!

There's a Chicken in My Hair!

Kennedi had some hair from her cowlic standing up one morning, and I said, "Let me wet that.  You've got a rooster."  A few days later I fixed her hair and walked out of the bathroom. Later when she showed up at the breakfast table, her hair was wet.  Really wet.  "What happened?  I asked.  "I had one of those chickens,"  she said. 

 

 

 

Here is a picture of Miss America .  No, I do not dress her for school in such scandalous clothing. She ditches her shirts the second she walks in the door from school in favor of her sleeveless shirts because she is hot.  You are also viewing our lovely kitchen floor.  We ripped up the carpet that was in the kitchen and bathrooms.  Can you say "Spilled Milk???" Who ever thought carpet in the kitchen would be a cool thing??? We're counting down the days until we can have tile put down.  

Diary of a Potty Trainer

Yesterday morning began with this:

Yes, big boy underwear (Cars)--I have hard time not calling them panties which highly annoys my husband, a new potty chair which got rave reviews from parents on Amazon, 7-UP and juice for "Peach Fizzies" so the child will drink and drink and drink and get lots of practice, Skittles for rewards, and Potty Power DVD for education.

Our morning didn't get started until 9:30 because I just had to wait until he pooped in the next to last diaper we had in the house.  I was not going to start potty training and have to clean THAT mess up on day 1. 

9:35~Started Potty Power.  (If you haven't seen it, it is really well done.  Annsley LOVED it.  She requested it all the time.  She'd run around the house with her little fist thrust into the air yelling "Potty Power!" 

10:00~Potty Power is over.  I just know my brain child boy is digesting the information he has just heard.  I take him to the table to look at the array of goodies awaiting him.  He chooses his first pair of underwear to put on.  He wants to try out his potty chair.  Good.  We'll go do it.

10:05~He sits on the potty chair.  Chats up a storm about potty.  I say, "You're such a big boy."  He says, "No, Baby."  Not what I was going for. 45 seconds later he wants to pull up his underwear. 

10:06~Begin cleaning up the mess from the 7-UP that bubbled out of his sippy cup.  I forgot about the "effervescence" since my kids hardly drink anything but water and milk.  I hand Andrei his new drink and have him try it.  I am proud.  The girls loved downing their full strength juice mixed with 7-UP.  Andrei takes one sip and says, "Milk. Nasty!"  It's going to be a long morning.

10:15~We head to the potty for our first real training on the seat.  He sits.  Nothing.  3 minutes and he's finished.  We head back to the living room for some more drink.  He finally sucks down his first Peach Fizz drink.  Now I wait.  I ask him if he wants to watch Potty Power again.  For reinforcement.  He says no. 

10:16~ Accident #1.  No Skittles.  Sorry.  You have to tee-tee in the potty chair. 

10:18~Sippy cup #2 started. 

10:30~Back to the potty chair for a try.  Nothing.  He prefers try out different sitting positions.  I am concerned because unless he is sitting straight ahead, there is going to be a mess all over the floor.  I grab some books to divert his attention forward.

10:31~Reading books encourages him to lean all the way forward to get a good view.  Now his hiney is shining in the air. 

10:33~Head back to living room.  Drink some more. 

10:34~Accident #2 but this time we rush to the bathroom and sit on the potty chair.  He manages to dribble out a teaspoon into the chair.  I call that a success.  2 Skittles coming up. 

10:40~More drink. 

10:55~I make the decision to move the potty chair to the living room.  We'll just stay contained in one area. 

10:56~He wants to sit on the potty.  He sits.  He spins.  Now the potty chair is on carpet--our lovely purple carpet.  Hmm.... Finally he reaches success, but there are dribbles all down the side of the potty chair.  Yikes! We are needing a high sided, front and back potty chair. More Skittles handed out. 

11:01~More drink offered but he refuses.  I decide to bring out the picnic water repellent sheet and put the potty chair on it.  I offer to turn on Word World and he can sit on the potty chair and watch.  I'm hoping that might make him sit still should the urge arise. 

11:30 Word World over.  Barney is coming up.  I hate Barney. 

11:45~Success again.  This time alot of urine is in the potty chair.  And there is some outside of the potty chair as well.  Another round of Skittles. 

12:00~Now he is wanting a drink but I hold off.  Nap time is coming and I will put him in a Pull Up and they are not very absorbent. 

12:45~I ask him if he wants to go potty.  He says no.  We try anyway.  Nothing. I know he needs to go as it has been nearly an hour and he's had a lot to drink this morning. I take two Skittles from the package and put them on the fireplace.  Maybe he needs to actually see the reward.  "These are for you when you tee-tee."  Mine? he asks.  Yes--when you tee-tee. 

12:47~He wants to get up.  No Skittles. We head to his room for nap. I absent mindedly pop the two Skittles on the fireplace in my mouth.  He frowns. "My Skittles." 

12:55~Pull-Up (aka Nap Underwear) is on.  I'm exhausted. 

2:45~He has filled his Pull-Up to the brim. 

2:46~I quit.  We'll try again in a few months.  He's about as interested in it as a dead salamander.  It was so much easier with my girls.  Kennedi had zero accidents on day one.  Annsley had only one and then never again.  I'll wait until he's closer to 3. 

3:05~We head to Family Dollar to buy diapers. 

Adjustments

We've moved.  We're still among boxes, but every day we can see more and more of our glorious amethyst colored carpet.

I looked out our backyard with our brand spanking new cedar fence and saw my Saran wrap all over the yard.  Tiger Lily managed to get a hold of it and unrolled 195 feet of the 200 on the roll.  Doug saw her do it.  He just watched.  "She was just having a good time, Mom.  She was running around the yard with the plastic wrap flying in the wind behind her," he said.  I was not amused.  Plastic wrap might be something I need desperately in the middle of my unpacking.  Now that days have passed, I wished I had gotten a picture of it. 

Tiger Lily and Mickey (our cat) are both adjusting to life in the "city".  Tiger Lily about came through the window the other morning when the garbage truck came down the alley.  Mickey spent 3 days under Annsley's bed--refusing to go outside.  I finally kicked him out two days ago.  Gotta toughen up some time Fur Ball.  He spends his days hiding under the backyard shed.  I think he slinks out early evening and explores.  At least the neighborhood dogs barking don't send him into cardiac arrest anymore. 

Andrei's new word is "nasty."  I'm not sure where he picked it up other than he overheard me say that the house was nasty.  It had been empty for 3 years.  Nasty doesn't begin to describe it.  It has literally been cleaned, dusted, vacuumed, fumigated from the top down.  I was given a wonderful gift of having someone come clean my windows for me.  Thank you Momma Carol!! I asked the guy if we would be nominated for America's Dirtiest Windows.  He said he'd seen much worse.  I hope I never see what "much worse" is.  Anyway, I served Andrei scrambled eggs the other morning.  He took one bite, pushed his plate away, and said, "Nasty." 

I was not amused.  (He got no brownie points for using correct context either.)

For lots of reasons, we decided to put the girls in public school this year.  Monday was their first day.  I will post pictures, but I first must find (a) my camera and (b) the cord to download the pix.  We were all sad, but the girls did absolutely awesome and have wonderful teachers.  I know their classrooms will be blessed.  Andrei kept asking, "Where are the gools?" 

"Do you miss Kennedi?" I asked him.  He said, "I miss Ken....I miss Annie." 

I have been amazed at how grown up he is when they are not around.  He is obedient.  He is pleasant.  He talks like a big boy.  The moment Kennedi walked into the house on day 1 he started baby talking again and whining.

Again, I was not amused.  Seems to be a theme these days.  I've been too tired to have much amusement.  There are trains that go through our town.  LOTS OF TRAINS.  I can usually sleep through them until the 4:00 am bunch rolls through.  There are usually 3-4 trains going through town then.  I know I will eventually not even notice them, but dang! it is brutal until then.  Those who lived closer to them tell me they rattle the house.  No rattling where we live, but it is LOUD!  

I've noticed Sanford's theme song is still going strong.  I'll get it off one of these days so you can read in peace...

Fast summer update

Back from the dead temporarily at least...maybe once fall arrives, I'll become inspired. 

Kennedi turned 6 in July.  Annsley spends hours (literally) reading books every day--something that her father does not understand or can relate to. 

And Andrei was using the toilet water this morning to brush his teeth.  Lovely. 

In other news, we are moving.  To a little bitty town.  So little that mail is not delivered to your house we have learned.  We have to get a PO Box.  I have already decided that I shall train Annsley to go in and get our mail.  I just hope we don't get a box on the top row where she can't reach it.  That would mean a rethinking of my brilliant "stay in the car with the little hooligans" plan while big sister acts as Moma's gopher.  We drove by the grocery store the other day.  Annsley takes one look at it and says, "Now Mom, if we have serious grocery shopping to do, we will drive to Big A, right?" She's obviously concerned about the neighborhood Thriftway offering only two types of cereal. 

We close on our new house in two weeks. There were only 12 houses for sale total in this little town (and from what I understand that number is unheard of.)  It seems that almost everyone who lives there loves it and never leaves.  As a result, very few houses are for sale, and while there are some very nice homes, the ones which were available while we were on the look were grandma and grandpa's house that the older children were selling--houses that were still in a 1960 time warp from the people who loved living there and never left.  We are blessed in the fact that we were able to purchase this house as it only has wall to wall mauve carpeting (literally--every square inch of the house--kitchen included) and blue Waverly wall paper.  I'm thinking that my 1990s couches will go absolutely beautifully with it.  And the oven doesn't look like something out of an I Dream of Jeannie rerun. All cosmetic which can be changed easily.  And the best part--all my children will have separate rooms.  I can't begin to tell you how excited I am about that!!!!

Everyone we have talked to has only great things to say about the town, and we are ready to see what all the "hub-bub" is about! For me personally, I'm excited about getting back to a small town--where my kids can walk around at night, and I don't have to hear traffic in my backyard.  Whoo Hoo!

Sanford and "Wife"

That's what I feel like.  We've been cleaning out (or up) the place for the last two weeks.  There's nothing better than spending your afternoons in an attic with outside temps over 100.  My pores are clean and I paid no one. After this last move 3 years ago, I refused then to NEVER move stuff that we don't use.  Two years ago I got rid of box after box of 20 year old wedding gifts that had never seen the outside of the box it was packed in 20 years ago.  Every time I would go through the attic or move, I'd think, "Now I just know I will have a use for these 6 crystal pitchers." 

Nada.

So, two years ago we got rid of lots of stuff in our garage sale.  But this summer it was different.  Now it was Doug's turn to let go and let loose.  He's had a bit tighter grip on his stuff of 15+ years that he doesn't even know he has.  (Sad to say, but I've "helped" him purge at various times over the years.)  But this time, he finally ditched a box of college textbooks.  We collectively agreed that the 3 1/2" floppies and the notes on DOS were out of date, the old professors had probably died, and  it doesn't look like you're planning to attend medical school any time soon, so really, why are we hanging onto this stuff?  And yes, those I Can Learn Spanish in Easy 14 Lessons on VHS that we've been carting from house to house for the last 18 years must go.  And, let us not forget the 5 boxes of infomercial materials that my husband bought when he stayed up a little too late one night.  They have never been opened.  I personally cleaned out no less than 20 boxes of old stuff hanging around in the attic.  I even have plans of sending our hard copies of pictures in bulky albums to a place here in town to scan them and put them on CD. 

Let me must say it was liberating.  Let me repeat. LIBERATING! Thanks to our intense clean out efforts, we'll only require 2 giant U-Haul trucks next time we move instead of 5. 

 Doug and I have both decided to not let our stuff define us any more.  Fear of lack has kept us in bondage for years.  We are children of the Most High God.  We lack for NOTHING.  It's high time we start acting like it.  We took pictures of stuff and then just let it go. (Let me clarify...pictures of "sentimental" stuff.  I did not take a picture of Herman Cassidy's Becoming a Millionaire by Buying Dilapitated Homes infomercial package.)

And then we had the junk piles.  When you have acrerage, you are entitled to junk piles.  I'm not sure that is a good thing because that then turns into the "good" junk pile and the "real" junk pile.  To define the difference, the "good" junk pile is stuff that could be used for future projects.  (Which, by the way, never get used for said future projects...) The "real" junk pile has seen its day. For instance, rather than pay Sears $30 to haul off our old dishwasher, we just tossed it into the "real" junk pile. Two days ago we decided to haul off all things junk.  ALL THINGS. 

The scrap metal went to scrap metal recycling place here in town.  Yes, we recycled.  Amazing for those of you who know us.  This morning the girls and Doug took a field trip to the dump.  I'm not sure who was more excited--the children or their father. I've never been.  I don't really have an inkling to go either.  I understand it smells.  The dishwasher proudly sat at the front of the trailer.  Coupled with all the old stuff overflowing the trailer, all I could do was think about how we had almost become a real live Sanford and Son.  Never Again.  Never Ever.

(Now, what Sanford and Son have to do with "stuff" is beyond me.  It's just that whenever I hear that song, I think of junk piled everywhere.  I don't know...)

Adios Softball!

Today marks the last day of Annsley's coach pitch softball games.  This has been our first go round of organized sports.  I am amazed at how busy it suddenly makes your already busy life.  I can't imagine what it will be like next year when Kennedi joins in on the fun.  How in the world do parents do it when their children are in several things at once? Just this one little thing has caused us to eat sandwiches in the car. 

Annsley is quite a little softball player, if I don't say so myself.  Her team is mostly boys--only 4 girls out of 18 on the team. (Don't get me started about the size.)  She can play with the boys, which makes her daddy puff up his chest.  She struck out her first time at bat, but she's gotten a hit every single time since then.  She's even made a few plays with some grounders at 2nd that have made the crowd go "Wow!", so I guess you could say she's got a proud Momma as well!

These kids are so funny to watch.  And the parents who are soooooo serious about this game! These little first graders are often more interested in the bug crossing first base than watching for the ball.  And then the circles these little guys can run when they don't know what to do with the ball!  And then the little girl who couldn't quite run quick enough to tag the runner and decided to just chunk the ball at the runner's back. My husband was umping by her and leaned over and whispered, "That may work on your brother at home but not here!" Or even my own daughter who did a most unsportmanlike "happy dance" when she tagged a runner out at 2nd just last week.  Where did that come from??? Or the child who loses his cap running to first and MUST stop to pick it up and place it back on his head before he can resume running....AND he still manages to get to first base safely.

The dog...

I am amazed at how much dog stuff costs.  This dog costs a lot.  And I haven't even bought a  collar yet. 
We've basically moved her outdoors.  Doug built a dog house for Tiger Lily to live in.  It's insulated.  It's huge.  The puppy, Andrei, Annsley, and Kennedi can all fit inside it.  I was going to opt for the $67 plastic model from Wal-Mart.  I was out voted. 

I was in Pets Mart the other day looking for heavy bowls.  Where we live, the wind turns plastic bowls into flying objects, so we were needing something heavy.  I was shocked at how much a darn dog bowl costs.  The cheap ones....$10.  And you can spend up to $30 on one bowl for Rufus.  I finally found a big ceramic one on clearance for $4.97--regularly $14.  It says "Thirsty" on it.  I bought one for her food bowl as well.  She can't read.  She won't know the difference.

Then, I went to Dollar Tree.  In their pet department, they had ceramic bowls for $1. Granted, they were slightly smaller than the Pets Mart one, but really?? How can you charge $10 for the same thing??  I snatched one for the food.  I'll return the second "Thirsty" bowl to Pets Mart.

She needs training.  Her owners need training.  Cats are so much simpler...


Dog Tired!




The Tiger Lily a la Chateau!  And in OSU orange too!  I think the paint lady at the store had a glitch in her mixing.  October Pumpkin was a dark reddish orange on the paint chip.  Go Cowboys!



Happy Birthday, Annsley!

My baby girl turned 8.  GULP! Here are a few pictures from her family party.  A softball/baseball game was started.  It was pretty funny watching a bunch of 60 something grandparents trying not to kill themselves! Thank you all for participating and making it a fun afternoon!

 And in case you might be wondering what in the world the pink "object" is, well, it's a pinata want-to-be.  Annsley HAD to have a Pink Poodle Pinata.  I was not going to spend $20 dollars on something that would be whacked away in 5 minutes.  So, I went to You Tube and learned how to make our own.  Doug just rolled his eyes when I told him what Annsley and I were about to do.  (Remember, he was a part of the Mother's Day Pinata fun.) 

I wouldn't recommend it.  I know, it looks like a pig. We didn't have enough toilet paper cardboard rolls, so we had to make 4 legs out of just two.  We just call him Stubby, the fat poodle with mange.  I got hot wrapping the crepe paper around and around, so I made the executive decision to use highly visible duct tape to hold it all together. The $20 might have been worth it...

No rude comments, please!

She doesnt' know how bad it really looks.  Thank you for 8 year old bliss!

Picture Post!

I'm back from the dead.  Maybe. 

A quick picture post of some of my favorite people:

Yes, I stacked it all by myself!



Unfortunately for her, disco has had its day.



My little 'uns made themselves a train.  Notice the caboose is not as happy as the rest.  And such is a 2 year old's life...

It has been crazy, busy around here.  Softball, VBS, end of school...more about our comings and goings with that as soon as my tongue quits hanging out of my mouth.

Meet Tiger Lily!

With regards to Meet the Parents movie, I'm all about Robert Dinero's discussion about the supremecy of cats over dogs.  I say a silent "AMEN" after he's finished grinding his future son-in-law about the fallacies of a tail wagging, easy pleasing canine.

We are now dog owners.  I am not a dog person. I haven't had a dog at my house in 30 years.  They smell.  They lick.  This one licks.  This one smells.  But, she is pretty cute.  It is a guilt dog.  My girls (and hubby) have been begging for a dog for years.  Literally.  It was always "after Kennedi is potty trained." Or "after we move." Or "after our adoption because I don't want to go to Russia and have a puppy left here to take care of." Or whatever excuse I could come up with.  Now, 1 1/2 years after Andrei is home, I relented out of guilt of denying my children the experience of dog ownership.

Annsley had been scanning the classifieds almost weekly since February looking for Boxer puppies.  I had been breathing a sigh of relief as there had been none for 4 months.  Then my husband, all by his little ole' self, posts a message on his Facebook page about wanting Boxer puppies.  And here they came.  From all over neighboring counties and states he was flooded with puppies available. 

I was doing quite well.  I just ignored him and all his little messages.  If I waited long enough, they'd all be gone.  And then one of the owners actually called him at work. And then she emailed pictures. 

I was toast. 

So, Sunday afternoon he and Annsley drive 45 miles to check them out.  Annsley only wanted a female because "we have enough boys around here."  The only females this owner had left were brindles, and Annsley only wanted a fawn.  But I knew she and Doug would leave with a dog--brindle or not.  And they did. 

Kennedi and I went shopping Sunday afternoon for dog bowls, food, bedding, and the all important chew toys.  Doug has been given his directive by our 7 year old to construct the dog house this weekend. 

She brings grief to Andrei though.  She loves his Tag blanket and constantly tries to carry it off. She also tries to pull down his shorts.  And any time he's bending over, she tries to climb on his back.  Andrei has a true love-hate relationship with Tiger Lily.

So now our days are spent house training, redirecting her couch gnawing to a chew toy, and waiting for her wake up from her puppy napping to play.  She has puppy breath. She smells like Dog. But I have a feeling she'll grow on me. 




Tiger Lily




Enjoying eating the stuffed rabbit someone left lying around.



A short lived smile as Tiger Lily grabs for Tag.

Stirring the stick!



Reading stories to her dog.



Mother's Day Surprise!

OK, so I'm an official blog neglector. I'll try to do better as I just know each and every one of you wait breathlessly every morning to see I've posted some more awesomeness! LOL

My girls celebrated Mother's Day with breakfast in bed for me.  From what I understand, Annsley started planning this a few weeks ago.  I knew something was going on, but no one would tell me anything except there was list of things that needed to be shopped for.  And then Wednesday night Kennedi could bear the secret no longer.

"Mom, we're cooking you breakfast for Mother's Day on Saturday.  Don't tell Annsley that I told you."

Doug has figured out that I now know their big secret and tells me that I'm going to have to stay in bed on Saturday morning.  He'll provide ear plugs.

Friday afternoon Annsley announces that she, Kennedi and Daddy are going shopping for my Mother Day surprise.  I will need to watch Andrei.

Yes, Dear.

The girls are in the car waiting for their Daddy to get in.  Doug has Annsley's handwritten list in his hand.  Without telling me what they are making, I'm trying to help him figure out what they really need to purchase.  It goes something like this.

Doug, "We need Bisquick."
Me, "We have some."  I take it out of the pantry.  It is half full.
Doug, as he looks all over the box for a recipe. "I'll get some more."
Me, "What are you making?"
Doug, "Uhm.. "
Me, "Pancakes?  Unless you're making 55 pancakes, I promise you that there is enough Bisquick."
Doug, "She's got frozen blueberries on the list."
Me, "The fresh ones are on sale. I'd go that route."
Doug, "She wants shortening.  What's that?"
Me, "Are you frying something?"
Doug, "Can we just use butter?"
Me, "What are you making?"
Doug, "It's a surprise."
Me, "Yea, so I've been told."
Doug, "I'm suppose to wake them up in the dark tomorrow.  Where did that come from?"

And the light has come on.  (Figuratively speaking.)  I tell Doug, "Oh man!  This has all come from the Berenstain Bear books.  The kids and Papa cooked Momma a Mother's Day breakfast.  Papa got the kids up while it was still dark to cook.  They made the grocery list.  Went shopping ,cooked--you know..just what you're doing." 

As promised, Doug provided me with ear plugs.  He got the girls up at 6:30, and I surprised myself by actually going back to sleep until 8:30! That in itself was a blessing!  I was served blueberry pancakes, fruit with extra creamy whipped cream on top, bacon, coffee, and Annsley's home made version of Reece's peanut butter cups. 

Later that day I was blindfolded, handed a bat, and told to start swinging.  They made me a homemade pinata.  I'm not sure what they made it out of, but I had blisters trying to break it.  It was a very resilient pinata.  15 minutes later the candy they had stuffed it fell out.  Unfortunately, Doug had let them paint the homemade ball of unwhackable paper mache with about 3 cans of spray paint. 

I ate two Reeces' Peanut Butter cups. (Can you tell it's my fav?)  They tasted like spray paint.  I burped spray paint until the next morning. 

But it's the thought that counts. 

I had an absolutely awesome Mother's Day.  My girls made my day so special, and kuddos to my hubby for helping them make it such a great day!

Cayenne Pepper to Amoxicillin

There has to be a law SOMEWHERE that says mommas can't get sick if they have children under the age of 7.  Surely, there must be a law that says that.  I, obviously, missed the enrollment period, and therefore have forfeited said benefit. 

I say 7 because I'm fairly sure that my oldest daughter, who is currently 7, could run the house for the entire day.  I'm fairly certain that she'd even wash the dishes without being told to do so.  Of course, she might take the opportunity since Mom would be oblivious, to paint the barn a nice shade of purple, but at least she'd attempt to try to rinse the brushes out. 

Annsley and I developed strep this week.  I originally thought it was some kind of nasty, nasty flu.  I've never had strep and quite frankly, I don't ever care to again.  Annsley had a fever and threw up Tuesday night. On Wednesday morning I woke up feeling like my throat had a blow torch attached to it, Kennedi carefully analyzed the situation and realized that she was the "oldest one left standing."  She had remembered back in December when I had some stomach bug and threw up not short of 20 times in less than 24 hours that I put Annsley in charge of everyone.  (In case any of you may be having some bad thoughts about my husband not being around to take care of the kids, this week was the STAAR state mandated tests.  It wasn't an option about him skipping out.)

"Mom," Kennedi asked Wednesday morning, "am I in charge since you and Annsley are sick?"

"Yes.  I'm gonna need your help to take care of Andrei.  Can you be a big girl for me today?"

Rather elated at the thought, she replies, "Oh yes! Does that mean I'm in charge of lunch too?"

"Yes.  You'll fix you and Andrei something to eat."

"I want peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and I'll fix Andrei some ham, and cheese, and a banana.  Is that OK?" 

At that point I truly would not have cared if she wanted to make chicken fried steak.  I would have said yes to anything that I didn't have to do. Lunch that day couldn't have come quickly enough.  10:00 and she was already having hunger pains.  It ended up being a long 2 hours for literally all of us.  Graciously the clock read 12:00 and she began lunch.  She was absolutely so precious.  She cut some turkey up for Andrei.  Cut up his cheese, and peeled his banana for him.  She smothered peanut butter on her bread, shirt, and counter.  Licked the knife and then dipped it into the jelly.  Licked the knife again and went in for seconds on the blackberry jelly. 

I'm on the internet looking for remedies for sore throat because the salt water gargle isn't helping.  I read gargling with apple cider vinegar works wonders.  Annsley gagged.  I tried it myself.  I actually love apple cider vinegar just as a little "kick start" for your day kinda thing, but I couldn't tell it did too much for my throat.  I then read that cayenne pepper added to the vinegar will cure any sore throat.  These people said that only burned slightly when the mixture was spit out.

So I tried it. 

I didn't have any of the the dried red pepper, but we did have plenty of Tabasco sauce ready for duty.  I shook about 7 drops in the bottom of my cup.  I added about a tablespoon of my friendly apple cider vinegar and about 1/2 cup of warm water. 

#%#%!!!##! THOSE PEOPLE LIED!  Instead of one blow torch, I had the entire manufacturing plant ablaze in my mouth.  WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE??!! They can't possibly be human.  And to think that they prey on desperately sick people like me. 

Long story short, this is the sickest for the longest period of time I have ever been in my life.  IN. MY. ENTIRE. LIFE.  My body felt like one of those lawn aerators had run over my entire body.  Ibuprofen was falling short of lasting 6 hours of fever and sore throat pain.  Really, by Thursday evening, I could understand how people could choose death. Friday morning Kennedi wakes up complaining of a sore throat. 

I finally glance at my throat and count new fewer than 10 white pus pockets.  I've had enough.  I call our pediatrician and get Kennedi and Annsely in to see her.  She suspects strep.  On a whim, I have her glance at my throat.  She swabs the girls' throats, gives them Amoxicillin, and strongly encourages me to see the nurse practioner at the pharmacy while I'm getting their prescription filled.  I'm not up to arguing any more.  I'm never sick enough to go to the doctor.  I haven't been to the doctor since Kennedi was born.  At this point I'm more than ready to give up my "record" for relief. 

The PA does a strep test.  It's positive.  I get Amoxicillin too!  I've never been so excited to take an antibiotic in my entire life.  When we three finally get home, Doug wants to take one of my pills "just in case." 

NO WAY!  I've been the most miserably person for the last three days.  These are all mine.  ALL MINE! "

"Go get your own!!" I hiss with clenched teeth.

He goes back to work.  Within three hours of taking my first pill, I finally notice how nasty my kitchen floor is after being at the mercy for three days of Doug and Kennedi.  I actually sweep, mop, and wash two loads of laundry before I go to bed that night!  Doug comes home from work.  He looks like he's in severe pain. 

"Where'd you go? I need medicine!!" 

So he's got strep too.  The PA didn't do a test on him.  She just took a look at his throat and said, "Oh, yeah.  You got what your family has.  Here's some Amoxicillin for you, too!" Andrei is a rock of immunity.  He's currenly coloring with his Color Wonder markers so his daddy can sleep.

There's Hail, and then there's HAIL!

Oh my goodness! Our "little" hail storm made some serious national headlines!! This happened about 20 miles or so from where we live earlier this week. It was crazy!  I've been around hail that seriously covered the ground several inches deep, but I've never seen anything like this before!

http://news.yahoo.com/blogs/sideshow/texas-hail-mud-mix-drifts-were-waist-shoulder-155019237.html

Resurrection Sunday

I serve THE risen Lord! Hallelujah! My baby girl was baptized this morning by her daddy.  Kennedi was so incredibly excited; she's been counting down the days all week.  I love that about her.  She waved to the crowd; she held her nose the minute her little feet hit the steps going down into the baptistery. She answered every comment and question while still holding her nose. She was ready!

From My Husband...

  

My Favorite Animal

Our teacher asked what my favorite animal was, and I said, "Fried chicken."
She said I wasn't funny, but she couldn't have been right, because everyone else laughed.


My parents told me to always tell the truth. I did. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.
He said they love animals very much.

I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal's office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.

The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.
I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.

She sent me back to the principal's office. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.

I don't understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn't like it when I am.

Today, my teacher asked me to tell her what famous person I admired most. I told her, "Colonel Sanders." Guess where I am now.......