This morning I'm busy finishing up about 900 thousand loads of laundry. I'm not exaggerating. I suddenly thought of some stuff.
1. Dear underwire in every bra I own,
If you're not strong enough to survive a little sloshing around in a washing machine, then you certainly are not strong enough to survive real life. I'm a mother of teenagers. I go places and do things much more difficult than one brief swishy ride in a washing machine. Toughen up! And, also? Be cheaper. I need to replace you more often.
2. Something funny happened during the mammogram.
I'm standing, completely topless, boob smashed into a machine, holding my breath and grasping the handle for dear life..... at that exact moment, the mammogram technician complemented my hair.
3. Happy Monday after Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 28, 2011
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
I'm Melting!
Sometimes, stories are brief...even when they are scientifically related.
It's Science Fair time at this house. Luckily, this year, Little already knows exactly what experiment she wants to conduct--which really isn't all that new of an occurrence...the girl usually ALWAYS knows what she wants from her life!
What I love about science fair time is that it's not my job to take the lead parenting/monitoring role. That's not what my academic background supports.....I don't wipe noses, I don't clean up puke, and I don't do science fair. I only make science fair "pretty." But, I've been married to a medical professional for almost 18 years, therefore, I am a "doctor-by-proxy"...and, I can pimp out a science fair board better than a Kardashian can trash up a wedding ceremony!
With list in hand, I send my dynamic-scientific-duo to the local Walmarts (it's the only real place one should shop for authentic scientifically related stuff).
Within the hour, the two return with all necessary supplies and a haste to begin:
Little: Where's Big? (my Big & Little can never enter a room without asking about the other)
Mr. Analytical: Focus. Don't worry about him. Now, what is your question? (you know, because every good science experiment begins with "the question.")
Little (very slowly and clearly so as to be heard by the deaf dad): Where. Is. Big?
Mr. Analytical: you're fired.
......And so the experiment begins.........
It's Science Fair time at this house. Luckily, this year, Little already knows exactly what experiment she wants to conduct--which really isn't all that new of an occurrence...the girl usually ALWAYS knows what she wants from her life!
What I love about science fair time is that it's not my job to take the lead parenting/monitoring role. That's not what my academic background supports.....I don't wipe noses, I don't clean up puke, and I don't do science fair. I only make science fair "pretty." But, I've been married to a medical professional for almost 18 years, therefore, I am a "doctor-by-proxy"...and, I can pimp out a science fair board better than a Kardashian can trash up a wedding ceremony!
With list in hand, I send my dynamic-scientific-duo to the local Walmarts (it's the only real place one should shop for authentic scientifically related stuff).
Within the hour, the two return with all necessary supplies and a haste to begin:
Little: Where's Big? (my Big & Little can never enter a room without asking about the other)
Mr. Analytical: Focus. Don't worry about him. Now, what is your question? (you know, because every good science experiment begins with "the question.")
Little (very slowly and clearly so as to be heard by the deaf dad): Where. Is. Big?
Mr. Analytical: you're fired.
......And so the experiment begins.........
Thursday, November 17, 2011
My Poor Husband
The Bossman is such a good husband. For several years now, every time we would take the family on a trip in the pick up truck, I would be very scared. And weird. And mean. And, basically a giant pain the rear end for the entire trip. Especially the driving part.
Recently, I saw my little old doctor, and requested some medicine that would help me with this problem. PrissE was instrumental in helping me with this. I believe her exact words were, "Gurl, just go get a pill."
With that, a prescription was written, and then picked up at the friendly Walmarts pharmacy. I just needed a car trip to try the stuff out.
Yesterday, we went on a car trip.
The Bossman and I needed to take Jag on over to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas for his annual check up. This trip would combine all my 'triggers': a long car ride, a doctor, a teenager, heavy traffic and brake lights.
We loaded up the truck and left at 3:55am. At 4:00am, only one small block from our house, the Bossman decided he forgot the GPS device and we needed to turn around. I snapped at him one time, then fished the pill from my bag and took one. Let's just see how this works.
In about 20 minutes or so, I felt relaxed. I no longer wanted to jump out the truck window and walk home to never leave my house again. It only took 20 minutes! A little further down the road, I became very sleepy. It was still dark, after all, so I reclined the seat and slept for a long time. I woke up and still felt great! I talked to the Bossman, and began a closer monitoring of the truck radio, but all was still really good.
As we got closer to Dallas, we would have an occasional conversation about the meaning of brake lights or the positioning of street signs. I think Jag and I had one brief conversation about pointing out things on the side of the road for dad to look at while he was driving in heavy traffic, but all was still going really well. I was being..... pleasant.
Instead of loud terrifying gasps from the passenger seat while I strangled the door handle and constantly checked to see if my seat belt was safely fastened, I would occasionally say, "Oh! That startled me!" And, the Bossman would laugh.
I felt so relaxed, that I found it easy to channel Dr. Phil. I would say to Jag and the Bossman something like, "You know I have this travel anxiety. Why would you (fill in the blank here of some irritating Y chromosome activity)?" Then, I would tell them that Dr. Phil would say they were working against my success. Jag thought those moments of counseling were funny at first. After a while, he put a movie on the DVR, and settled into the head phones.
I was busy trying to trick the GPS device when I asked the Bossman what he thought about the new medicine I took. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, that pill didn't shut you up, but you're being nice and funny. I think it's worth it."
Jag decided to chime in with, "Yeah Mom, you should take them more often."
We're home.
Recently, I saw my little old doctor, and requested some medicine that would help me with this problem. PrissE was instrumental in helping me with this. I believe her exact words were, "Gurl, just go get a pill."
With that, a prescription was written, and then picked up at the friendly Walmarts pharmacy. I just needed a car trip to try the stuff out.
Yesterday, we went on a car trip.
The Bossman and I needed to take Jag on over to the Scottish Rite Hospital in Dallas for his annual check up. This trip would combine all my 'triggers': a long car ride, a doctor, a teenager, heavy traffic and brake lights.
We loaded up the truck and left at 3:55am. At 4:00am, only one small block from our house, the Bossman decided he forgot the GPS device and we needed to turn around. I snapped at him one time, then fished the pill from my bag and took one. Let's just see how this works.
In about 20 minutes or so, I felt relaxed. I no longer wanted to jump out the truck window and walk home to never leave my house again. It only took 20 minutes! A little further down the road, I became very sleepy. It was still dark, after all, so I reclined the seat and slept for a long time. I woke up and still felt great! I talked to the Bossman, and began a closer monitoring of the truck radio, but all was still really good.
As we got closer to Dallas, we would have an occasional conversation about the meaning of brake lights or the positioning of street signs. I think Jag and I had one brief conversation about pointing out things on the side of the road for dad to look at while he was driving in heavy traffic, but all was still going really well. I was being..... pleasant.
Instead of loud terrifying gasps from the passenger seat while I strangled the door handle and constantly checked to see if my seat belt was safely fastened, I would occasionally say, "Oh! That startled me!" And, the Bossman would laugh.
I felt so relaxed, that I found it easy to channel Dr. Phil. I would say to Jag and the Bossman something like, "You know I have this travel anxiety. Why would you (fill in the blank here of some irritating Y chromosome activity)?" Then, I would tell them that Dr. Phil would say they were working against my success. Jag thought those moments of counseling were funny at first. After a while, he put a movie on the DVR, and settled into the head phones.
I was busy trying to trick the GPS device when I asked the Bossman what he thought about the new medicine I took. He paused for a moment, then said, "Well, that pill didn't shut you up, but you're being nice and funny. I think it's worth it."
Jag decided to chime in with, "Yeah Mom, you should take them more often."
We're home.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
P is for Panties
Wide-eyed. Excited to share. Obviously proud of his vocabulary skills. A very smallish little boy ran to me one afternoon. He began to poke me repeatedly with his pointer finger. (stop poking me!) This is what he said:
Kid: Did that boy just tattle on me? That boy in the blue shirt? Because I didn't say anything bad. And, I wasn't talking to him. And, I thought he was probably tattling on me for saying a bad word. But, it's not a bad word, and I don't want him to tattle on me, because it's a regular word. Not a bad word. I'm not lying. I promise.
I looked at the boy, puzzled. Waited a long time, not really knowing what to say. I wondered if he was tattling on himself or if this was a preemptive strike against the other smallish boy..... curiosity got the best of me.
Me: What did you say?
Kid: P is for panties.
Me: You're right. Don't tell anyone else. Go play.
Kid: Did that boy just tattle on me? That boy in the blue shirt? Because I didn't say anything bad. And, I wasn't talking to him. And, I thought he was probably tattling on me for saying a bad word. But, it's not a bad word, and I don't want him to tattle on me, because it's a regular word. Not a bad word. I'm not lying. I promise.
I looked at the boy, puzzled. Waited a long time, not really knowing what to say. I wondered if he was tattling on himself or if this was a preemptive strike against the other smallish boy..... curiosity got the best of me.
Me: What did you say?
Kid: P is for panties.
Me: You're right. Don't tell anyone else. Go play.
Monday, November 7, 2011
"A Real Live Author???"
Lately, I think the universe has come to the conclusion that I have too much spare time (and I'm certain it is in NO relation to the fact that I've seen the ENTIRE series of the TV shows 'Criminal Minds,' 'Big Bang Theory,' 'The Guardian,' 'NCIS,' 'Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making the Team,' and 'The Golden Girls' all within the last 2 school years. Eh. We make time for what we love!)
I've had a couple of job offers within the last 3 months--one of which I took, then "un"took....don't ask.
Recently, though, I had an epiphany--I ALREADY HAVE FOUR JOBS!!!!! And none of those include being the mom to an almost-teenage-boy and a seven-year-old-girl-with-the-intelligence-of-a-35-year-old-woman.
I'm tired.
Nonetheless, my latest job ROCKS!!! It's also a BIG part of why I'm scarce around these here blog-parts.
I'M GONNA BE A REAL LIVE AUTHOR!!!!! A PUBLISHED AND PAID-TO-WRITE AUTHOR!!!!
Can you believe it??? Texas Tech University Independent School District is paying ME to write for them!
ReAl MoNeY that the IRS will want a share of!
I am TOTALLY stoked about being able to say:
"Hi. I'm PrissE. I'm a paid & published author. To whom would you like for me to make out this autograph?"
Now.......if I could just get someone to pay me to lose weight...........
I've had a couple of job offers within the last 3 months--one of which I took, then "un"took....don't ask.
Recently, though, I had an epiphany--I ALREADY HAVE FOUR JOBS!!!!! And none of those include being the mom to an almost-teenage-boy and a seven-year-old-girl-with-the-intelligence-of-a-35-year-old-woman.
I'm tired.
Nonetheless, my latest job ROCKS!!! It's also a BIG part of why I'm scarce around these here blog-parts.
I'M GONNA BE A REAL LIVE AUTHOR!!!!! A PUBLISHED AND PAID-TO-WRITE AUTHOR!!!!
Can you believe it??? Texas Tech University Independent School District is paying ME to write for them!
ReAl MoNeY that the IRS will want a share of!
I am TOTALLY stoked about being able to say:
"Hi. I'm PrissE. I'm a paid & published author. To whom would you like for me to make out this autograph?"
Now.......if I could just get someone to pay me to lose weight...........
Friday, November 4, 2011
Perspective
Living with teenage boys gives me a whole new perspective.
Exciting news from the Bossman's side of the family! Wedding in April! We couldn't be more excited. Or, could we?
(Which is funny on this particular day because I had just returned from the beauty shop for an update of my natural 'blonde' status. Good one, Mav. You got me!)
In response to the April announcement, Fox's only reply was a question.
And so, with that..... Congratulations Aunt Joyce and Steve. We can't wait to be blonde and clueless while touching old people arms.
Random, unrelated photograph. Just for laughs.
Exciting news from the Bossman's side of the family! Wedding in April! We couldn't be more excited. Or, could we?
Me: I think Aunt J's wedding will be this April.
Mav: Who's she marrying?
Me: Really? You know, that guy that she's been dating for over 11 years. You swim at his house. Holiday games, parties.... that guy. She's marrying him. You knew that, right? You're not clueless.
Mav: **slow consideration** I might be clueless, but at least I'm not blonde.
(Which is funny on this particular day because I had just returned from the beauty shop for an update of my natural 'blonde' status. Good one, Mav. You got me!)
In response to the April announcement, Fox's only reply was a question.
Fox: Am I gonna have to be an usher again? I don't want to be an usher again.
Me: Why not? You had fun last time.
Fox: Touching all those old people arms freaks me out.
And so, with that..... Congratulations Aunt Joyce and Steve. We can't wait to be blonde and clueless while touching old people arms.
Random, unrelated photograph. Just for laughs.
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