Contraband

Remember when you were young and you had things you hid from your parents?

I would present to you a concept to ponder- what constitutes contraband for a six-year-old- except that I already know the answer to the question.

I spent four hours cleaning Noah's room today. I mean, REALLY cleaning it. I sifted through every tiny Lego, Lego accessory, Stars Wars ship, figure, accessory, K*Nex, clothing.. EVERY TINY THING.

When I was finished purging, organizing and rearranging his room, I vacuumed his floor and changed his sheets. Wedged between the mattress and the corner of his bed, slightly under his mattress, I found the following:

His Lego MP3 player, an opened(empty) wrapper of M&M's, a full unopened wrapper of M&M's, Lego Clone Trooper, Lego Luke Skywalker and Star Wars figure Commander Cody.

A Crazy Tangent ( Line)

I am blocked. So I googled, "writing prompts" and picked a website and clicked on prompt #175 which instructed me to " Write about the contents of an accountant's garbage bin."

This is hilarious because my friend Jennifer is an accountant. And she's a writer. And a blogger. And, no, I am not one of those weirdos that refers to myself in the third person and am secretly talking about myself here, because I am most certainly NOT an accountant. I am terrible with numbers. At one point in my life ( just last week) I thought I was good at math, but then I started taking a stupid math class and I have downgraded myself to a half step above drooling in my Cheerios. The dawn of reality is eye-opening. I've fooled myself into believing I was an intelligent being and I am really a blooming idiot. In fact, I am so bad at math, I have discovered, that I bet I could qualify for some form of disability. Or maybe one of those handicap placards that would get me a good parking spot at the mall. Because I am bad with numbers, so I cannot be relied upon to remember the reference number posted on the street light nearest my van.

So.... the contents of an accountant's garbage bin? Well, I have to admit the first thing that popped in my mind was, " hopefully the key to unlock the great mystery that is logarithms". Seriously, those things are giving me fits.

And.. back to Jennifer ( see how great I am at steering the subject back to ME?) and her garbage can. Well, it's tax season... an accountant's favorite time of year... and she did post a week or so ago about how she is tired of everyone asking when their W-2 would be ready. I imagine that if said employees did not heed her warning, someone's W-2 may have been accidentally tossed into the garbage. Maybe some targets with various people's faces on them? Random people/ other moms/annoying employees/coworkers that she randomly tapes to the wall and tosses darts or other sharp objects at. I imagine a couple of Diet Coke cans.

If I look really closely, I think I can see the crumpled application I filled out trying to be in the "Superstar Math Whiz" club. Jen cosine-d (get it?) the rejection letter and told me I should just pull the TRIG-ger, calculate my shortcomings, board the crazy x-y plane, grab a tambourine and let the (loga)rithm of the night overtake me. In other words, I am exponentially lacking and I shouldn't let my lofty ideals of myself FOIL my chances at a normal, albeit number-free life. In reality, I should truncate my plans now and just go have some pi.

I know... BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!

I didn't mean to be so obtuse.

Random Thoughts Tuesday

Ok...I'm gonna try this.

My friend Jennifer does this all the time. It is from the blog of the Un Mom. So you can head over to her blog to read more randomness.


Here goes..


When my husband first let Noah watch Star Wars, I thought he was way too young, but Noah really loved it and that moment started his Star Wars obsession. Today, he came home from school and said to me, " You know what I figured out?"

"What's that?"

" Star Wars is actually a pretty violent movie."

" Yes, it is."

**puzzled look**

"Then why did you let me watch it!?"

As stated on a previous blog, I finally decided to get my master's degree. I have to take three pre-requisite classes prior to starting the actual graduate work, because they are not satisfied with the undergrad classes I took in those areas. The first one is a big combo math class with three parts: college algebra, developmental mathematics and statistics. Each part has about fifteen chapters. At the end of this hell, I have to take and pass ( with an 80% or better) a proctored exam over the whole content. I am finding I am really rusty on some of these concepts and it is freaking me out. Which brings us to....

Logarithms suck. Enough said.

I think I am raising a chauvinist pig. After changing several stinky diapers the other day, DJ and I declared ourselves over it and volunteered Noah for the job. He politely declined. Then I threw the wipes to him and told him it was good practice for one day when he has kids. He responded with, " Ewww..... when I have kids, I will let their mother change the diapers!"

Q: How can you potty train a kid that not only doesn't care that she is in a dirty diaper but also vehemently denies it when asked? To the point where I have to chase her down and drag her kicking and screaming to get the dirty diaper off her so she won't end up with sores on her behind?
A: You don't. That would make life MUCH too easy... and we can't have THAT!

Yesterday it was actually sixty degrees. But I couldn't enjoy it because it was friggin raining all day. Today it is back in the thirties and we are expecting snow by the weekend.

Cold medicine makes me comatose. It should be called, "Nyquil- the make you wake up with your hair stuck to your forehead and your drool-stained cheek stuck to your pillow nightime remedy."

Yeah... it's really like that. Sexy, huh?

My husband is on cloud nine because the New Orleans Saints are going to the Superbowl. I want to be happy for him, but I'm still bitter over him rooting for Alabama over Texas in the BCS championship. Because, really, I don't care about NFL. I am all about college football and my husband is a traitor! T-R-A-I-T-O-R. I considered us temporarily "divorced" on that day. I am sure any Texas lawyer would totally back me up with that as sufficient grounds.

Because I was sick and had nothing else to do, I watched some barbecue cookoff on television this weekend. The brisket and ribs looked really yummy and it makes me miss home. I sure could use some good barbecue right now. But.. wait... it's too freakin' cold to do it myself.

I think I'm done.

That is all.

**Ok.. not really... because I am a total moron, I cannot seem to make the button link up to the Un Mom's blog. So.. I posted a separate link. Sorry for my incompetence. No wonder I can't figure out logarithms. I'm lucky I got 2+2. It is 7, right?

Why Aren't Children Considered Biohazards?

Those nasty little boogers are just teaming with infection. They are constantly bringing home their own personal little petri dish of fun on a daily basis. What is worse, is that when they actually succumb to one of the illnesses, they don't usually suffer as badly as their adult counterparts.

Two weeks ago, Noah had a little cough, a little sniffle and complained once of a sore throat. He never had fever so I just assumed it was the change in climate ( coming back to NJ from Texas) and sent him to school.

Last week, I got a tickle in my throat. Then, my throat started to hurt a little. By Thursday, the congestion in my chest was breaking up and I thought I was on the upswing. Then Saturday, my throat started hurting again. This time it was different and I recognized, beyond a shadow of a doubt that pain... strep throat. I've only had it one other time in my life and it is an unforgettable pain.

One of my friends had a similar week last week, except with a different "germ" and different symptoms. She and her entire family had that stomach bug that is going around and I will spare you the details she gave me over the phone, but I will just say that I do NOT want that one! Her son goes to the same school as my son. She was better by Friday but called me this morning to tell me that she went to the base clinic with an awful sore throat... and tested positive for strep. Nasty kids.

So, as a completely unrelated topic that will tie back into this by the end of the story- I am co-chair of a scholarship committee. Every year in January, we send out letters to the music directors of all the high schools in our county inviting them to nominate one of their seniors for the scholarship. I have printed out all the letters and application materials and sat today and folded them all to get ready to stuff in envelopes. I had a little assembly line set up but my hands were dry, so I did what everyone else does ( come on, you KNOW you do), I began licking my fingers while sorting the papers. It was only after I folded all thirty-eight letters that I realized I had just put my strep-infested saliva on a vast majority of the letters.

Does anyone know the incubation period of the streptococcus bacteria? I'm hoping once the saliva dried it was gone. I'm also crossing my germ-infested fingers that there isn't an unexplained epidemic of strep cases among my county's high school musicians in the near future. *whistling innocently*

Journey Straight to the Asylum

Sorry I am just finally getting around to this, but here is my chronicle of half of my trip to Texas. You only get day one and a very abridged version of day two, because by day two, I was addicted to DJ's Blackberry.

All the great writers took some sort of trip for inspiration. I am embarking on my journey. I'm in a freakin' mini van driving from New Jersey to Texas. Thus begins the chronicle of my journey straight to the asylum.

Day 1

8:15 pull out of the driveway

8:17 Zoe is unhappy

8:17:20 gave Zoe Cheerios, Zoe is happy again.

Other than a few minor scuffles, we're good until 10:15 when Noah pulls out his Lego RV and Zoe yells, " MINE!" Noah fires back, " No! It's NOT YOURS!" Scuffle ensues.

DJ asks Noah to share a Lego person with Zoe upon which Noah points out vehemently, " They're not for children under three!"

I reply, " It's fine ! Give it to her!!"

"But she's TWO!" the fruit of my loins bellows.

"Well, I'm her mother and I say it's OK!"

[exasperated grunt]

10:18 Zoe decides she wants the RV and I realize we are traveling with a caveman as she continuously belts out two-word commands at full volume.

10:30 I give in and put a movie in the DVD player. There's a brief nuclear meltdown/misunderstanding regarding earphones, but it is resolved and everyone is happy again by 10:36.

Pennsylvania really is a beautiful state. I can't help but wonder if we dropped the kids off at one of these Amish farms, would they even notice the extra offspring?

If Noah asks what state we are in one more time, I am going to answer with, "hysteria". Yep, Amish life might be good for him.

We are behind a truck labelled, "Infectious Medical Waste" and as we round the curve some liquid sloshes out of the top. Should I be concerned?

As soon as we cross the border into West Virginia, there is a very large trailer park. Come ON.... make me work for the jokes, please! Other than that, West Virginia is very pretty too.... and for some reason, Noah breaks into "Mountain Momma" which is funny because I have no idea where he heard that song.

It becomes apparent to me that the farther south we get, the number of billboard messages I receive from Jesus increases exponentially. I ponder.. is that because Jesus is more concerned about the south, or because he wrote the sin-ridden Yanks off a long time ago and just doesn't bother? Either way, it makes me giggle.

Q: What did Tenne-see?

A: He saw what Arkan-sas(w)!

Hahahahahaha!

Around six p.m. eastern standard time, Noah begins pointing out the Super 8 motels asking to stop.

He then proceeds to point out every Super 8 at every exit we pass for the next four hours when we finally reach Knoxville, TN and pull over- at a LaQuinta- to stop for the night.

Noah: " Is 'LaQuinta' Spanish for Super 8??"

DJ and myself: " YES!" So he will shut up.

Day 2:

Full of Blackberry surfing the internet and chatting on Facebook. I am starting to understand the term "crackberry". DJ informs me that our phones are due for an upgrade with a wink.

We covered the rest of Tennessee which is incredibly breathtaking... especially Chattanooga. As always, Alabama and Mississippi bored the hell out of me. They are so boring to drive through.. there is NOTHING to see!

Fast forward! We made it to Louisiana and I-10 and were not disappointed. I-1o is always full of traffic and the road conditions are terrible. I'm struck by the irony of the signs Louisiana so proudly displays along the roads stating that they have accepted no tainted federal money for the improvement of their roads... while driving over CRAPPY roads! Hmmm...... Nonetheless, it is good to be back in the land of my coon ass roots and one state closer to home!

As we approach Lake Charles, Louisiana, I smell the refineries and inhale deeply. The smell of home..... we're so close now. Then, we cross the bridge into Texas and I am reminded of Texas' flagrant pride in itself by the ginormous star posted by the side of the road at the "Welcome to Texas" rest stop.

Ah....it's good to be home.

Anxiety

Ok, so I've just begun my first term in pursuit of my graduate degree. "I am so proud of myself and this is just a natural progression in my quest for knowledge and to better myself" - is what I say on the outside.

"Holy Schnikes! I've lost my ever-loving mind! Will someone please just confirm my fear that I am too stupid to do this; and while you are at it, can you wipe the drool off my chin?"- is what I say on the inside.

The truth is, I had a dream last night that I was back in middle school... but as an adult. First, I couldn't find my locker, then when I did, I realized I had forgotten the combination to the lock. Then, in my English class, I realized that in addition to all the work I had done for the term ( and I had an A) that we had also had the task of completing a journal to turn in at the end of the term. The journal was supposed to be completed entirely outside of class on our own and I had forgotten all about it. It was worth half our grade and I was going to get a zero on it which would make me fail the class I thought I had aced. I was just sick sitting there realizing this and the fact that I LIKE to write, so how could I be so stupid as to forget this one key assignment that would have been easy for me?

Now I'm no psychologist, but I interpret this as my fears of inadequacy coming out.

Why couldn't I have just had the "showed up for class naked" dream, instead?

I have three content prep classes that I have to complete before I can officially begin my master's program. The first two classes are math classes and the third is a science class. I am not worried at all about the science class, but the math classes are scaring the hell out of me. It's been a LONG time! I was just cleared to begin my first math class- Statistics- last night. I opened up the program of study and saw references to graphing quadratic equations as well as geometery and probability. The air went out of my lungs.

Now, I'm no dummy (or at least I didn't used to be)... I did take Pre-Calculus on both a high school and college level but never man-ed up enough to take REAL Calculus. - What can I say, I'm a chicken- BUT... I took college Pre-Calculus in 1993.......ahem.....SEVENTEEN YEARS AGO.... I'm a little rusty.

So...... I guess I need to quit blogging about my fear of it and just dive right in... correct??

But first, let me go wipe my chin.