The jobs must be done. Also? Hum a little tune.

We have a chore chart.

Here at Casa del Sassy, we do not have a full time staff, so as any good parent would do, we make the teenagers work.  Hence.... chore chart.

Every afternoon, I remind the teenagers about the chore chart.

"Who has dishes?"

Giant teenager comes down the hall..... "AWWW, I hate dishes."  (Seven and one half minutes of teenage whining ensues.  Mucho complaining about the chore chart.  An argument regarding fairness.  Etc...)

Then, the most delightful thing.  Giant teenager starts doing the dishes!  Only seconds into his chore, I hear something unexpected.  Giant teenage boy is humming, 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas!'


I love, LOVE to experiment with the human condition, so as soon as dishes are done (really people, about 4 dirty cups and 4 spoons)  I assign giant teenager another task.

"Will you vacuum the hallway for me?  Please?"

(Giant moans of teenage woe ensue.  A few suggestions on who else should run the vacuum.  A request for payment.  Etc....)

Then, it happens again!

Giant teenage boy is vacuuming the hallway and humming, 'Deck the Halls!'


The vacuum cleaner belt broke and instantly the holiday humming spell was broken.  He announced an urgency regarding a pirate game and that was the last of the humming.

For now.

Merry Saturday!

I have to appreciate in my own time. Please, don't rush me.

It's Teacher Appreciation Week at our school. It's May. There are only a few more weeks of school left, and I just had a light bulb moment. Someone should notify Oprah.

Dearest Teachers: I have come to realize I appreciate you more in August and September. At the beginning of the school year, when there's still some bounce in your step and some glimmer of hope in your eyes. The beginning of the year is exciting and full of fledgling dreams. Everything and anything seems within reach. I appreciate you because I know you’re ready to face the new challenges and I know you’re ready to do what needs to be done. Or, at a minimum, I know you're ready to teach to a state mandated test, resulting in future funding for our school. There’s no mountain too high, no valley too low…… etc, etc.

In May, we’ve lived through all those life lessons. I’m not as excited to appreciate you after you’ve ‘done what needed to be done’. I know. It’s necessary. Boys have got to do their growing up. I totally get it. I’m just tired and would rather just wish you a happy summer than spend a day appreciating you at a luncheon. I still baked you some brownies. Totally drug free brownies, so you can enjoy them, honest!!

I feel the need to go on. Let me just update all of the blog-o-sphere.

For example:

To the teacher that ripped my two little guys a new one for a minor infraction while ignoring your own child two steps away holding an innocent third party in a head lock: I’d like to wish you a happy summer. (P.S. If you would have looked up, and taken one breath you would have seen the Bossman over your right shoulder ready to calm the situation with his own off-spring. My baby daddy is so cool like that.)

To all teachers who have labored over trying to teach one dyslexic boy how to spell: he still can’t spell. I apologize. I know it’s my fault because I told him in First Grade that spelling wasn’t a life skill he was going to need. Who knew that was a day he was listening to me? I appreciate you averaging in all those bad spelling grades with the phenomenal grades the boy gets for creative thinking making him look to the outside world all average and stuff. Hey blog-o-sphere…. Google average IQ’s of dyslexic people. Go ahead, I’ll wait.


My dream now is for some super smart computer programmer to make some new dyslexic program to alert the child that although he has spelled a word correctly, it’s not the word he intended to use. I’m dreaming the alert might be some vocal siren type thing that says, “I don’t think this is the word you meant to use. Read it out loud to someone (often your mom) so she can give you the first three letters of the word and we can try again.”

Communities must band together to save the spell check!

To all the teachers that took my boys safely all over the state of Texas all year long for UIL, sports, band, FFA or other activities: You guys are rock stars! I mean that! Thank you for showing the boys something new. They believe you when you encourage them. They are confident you have given them the training and knowledge to succeed. You’re making them better young men, and giving them life experiences to uniquely mold them. These are the things they look forward to, talk about all the time, and remember forever.

Hello world. I’m a 40 year old mom who is only a few weeks away from completely surviving her first year of high school AND her two babies’ first year of junior high school. I’m fatter than I was in August, but no worse for the wear.

Summer is on the horizon.

We’ll be pool side with our brains switched to the ‘off’ position.

Warning to people who think they're funny: The first person that tells me how they feel about my boy driving soon, will be kicked in the face. You can't cry if you were warned.

I recently watched Gladiator, Robin Hood and King Arthur, so now I must blog this story.

Once upon a time, in a quaint little castle, there lived a beautiful Queen. The Queen shared the castle with a Brave King and three curious little Princes. The oldest Prince had an unusual history of coming down with many a strange disease. When the young lad was only five years old, the beautiful Queen took him to the Wizard of Orthopedic Medicine for help with a slight limp. After one brief x-ray the Wizard informed the Queen that the Prince had become stricken with a very rare bone disease. This disease would live in the Prince forever, and no Wizards in the land had any idea what it would do to the Prince as he grew up. The King and beautiful Queen spent many a restless night worrying for their young Prince. How could the future King rule the land if he only had one leg? Soon, the King and Queen traveled with the Prince to a far, far away land, where a wise old Priest told them that the young Prince would likely live out all the days of his life with both legs. The young Prince could look forward to many a buggy ride because his limp would make him slower and the rare bone disease would likely make him shorter. Nary would a peasant bother a future King for those petty things.

Many peaceful years would pass. The King and Queen lived to see that the Priest was correct. The young Prince was growing into a teenager and suffered rarely from his strange and rare disease. Alas, the teenage Prince could vex the King and beautiful Queen with many a strange and wrong decision. Those tales shall wait till another dawn.

One evening the teenage Prince was sluggish and pale. He complained of a pounding in his head, and then began to wail and moan as the pounding became worse. The teenage Prince declared his pain level to be a ten on the kingdom pain chart! His constant wailing worried the King and beautiful Queen, but because the sun had already set, and the King had popped the bottle of wine open, it was decided to wait until morn to visit the Wizard of Family Medicine. The beautiful Queen administered the magic Motrin doses and the teenage Prince drifted off to sleep.

The next morn, the beautiful Queen accompanied the teenage Prince to the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair. There, the beautiful Queen was forced to wait an uncomfortable amount of time in the room of commons, where many an old person would cough on her. Finally, the nurse-jester called the teenage Prince back to see the Wizard. The Wizard of Family Medicine mashed on the teenage Prince’s face for one brief second and declared a CT must be taken!

Wait! The beautiful Queen stands to proclaim, ‘Why such a CT must be taken? Isn’t the teenage Prince suffering from the infection of the sinuses? I also suffered this ailment last week. Many a townsperson suffers this same ailment! The market square is crawling with sickness. Prescribe with your wand the magic pink pills to the teenage Prince, and save us from the CT.’

The Wizard of Family Medicine did not agree with the beautiful Queen, so the CT was scheduled. The teenage Prince was elated! Such a grand adventure he had never taken! The teenage Prince immediately called for his communication device to alert the Knights of the kingdom. Many a text was sent, and the Facebook sorcerer was contacted. Luckily, the beautiful Queen was able to stop the sorcerer before the communication was finished. All the townspeople need not know these developments.

The beautiful Queen remembers what the teenage Prince easily forgets. If a limp and one x-ray can lead to a rare bone disease, then certainly a pain in the head such as this, followed by the looming CT, could only lead to a rare brain tumor! Kingdom logic was plain to the beautiful Queen. Besides that, the teenage Prince was well known for pulling many a stunt like this.

The beautiful Queen was as wise as she was beautiful, so all these thoughts were kept silent. The teenage Prince continued to revel in the glory of facing the CT. Only moments after the CT, the teenage Prince was back on his communication device declaring to all the Knights of the kingdom, ‘Dude, it was so cool! I could SEE the radiation coming out of the front of my face!’

Only one sunset would be endured before the results of the CT could be known. The beautiful Queen summoned the Wizard of Family Medicine’s lair to learn of the results. She spoke with many a receptionist-jester and many a nurse-jester. She left many a voicemail and written message. Carrier pigeons carrying sarcastic declarations could not sway the office to release the results! The King and beautiful Queen were dismayed and full of woe. It seems the Festival of Spring had taken the primary Wizard of Family Medicine to a far away land, making it difficult to make known the results.

One more sunset would be endured before the nurse-angel of the substitute variety would request the presence of the beautiful Queen. The nurse-angel would announce that the CT was clear! The teenage Prince did indeed have a brain! It was determined that the front sinuses were inflamed. The beautiful Queen thanked the nurse angel for bringing the good news so quickly, even though it was the Festival of Spring. The nurse angel was rewarded for her good deed with a royal hand stamped decree.

And so, the teenage Prince was prescribed the pink pills of healing, and soon was cured of the pounding in his head. The beautiful Queen got to be right (again) and, they all lived happily ever after!

Till the morn the sheriffs began requesting gold coins to pay for the CT.

Mom, a list.

Top 10 things I do not like to hear after 10pm (in fact, I might cry.):

1. Mom, do you know where my basketball shoes are?

2. Mom, do you know if my track clothes are clean?

3. Mom, I found my track clothes in the hamper, I need them tomorrow.

4. Mom, I think I left my basketball shoes at school.

5. Mom, how long does it take to type an English essay?

6. Mom, I need to type this English essay by tomorrow.

7. Mom, is tomorrow picture day?

8. Mom, does this finger look jammed to you?

9. Mom, is it alright to do Algebra homework with a blue pen?

10. Mom, do you think this is still good to eat?

Let the countdown to summer begin!

Mixing crazy with parenting. One proud moment.

I really like this picture. This is me with Fox. I like it because it hides most all of my jiggly parts and because my sister took it. She did some fancy photo-shopping stuff to it. Anyway, I like it.

I'm super proud. All the boys pulled out all stops and worked really hard this six weeks of school. We've learned some life lessons, and I hope won't make some of the same mistakes again.

I had a brief moment of crazy this morning. In typical Sassy fashion, I didn't save the crazy for just me, I ran up to school and shared the crazy with everyone. Snaps for me. NOT! Anyway, all appropriate apologies and thank yous have been made. Crazy leaks out of me these days, I seem to have lost control of my sanity. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure summer will restore me.

While I'm being all super proud for a moment, I want to risk mixing crazy with a slight chance of embarrassment. I have to share an essay Fox wrote for English class.

Paper not titled

Have you wondered about what the world would be without homeless people? [Mr. Principal] wants to add a new class to the [Jr High School] schedule. I think an architectural class should be added. Having an architectural class would have benefits to the economy like building homes for the needy and homeless, maturing kids with the hard work and responsibilities, and it would come to building 'greener' homes, schools, and buildings. Having an architectural class is the best choice for being added to the schedule.

Building homes for the needy and homeless are some of the many results of having an architectural class. Having homes for half of the homeless people in the US would boost the payment of taxes and the US won't be in debt as much. Another great reason for building homes for the needy and homeless is that more people will live in houses. The people who live in houses have a better chance of getting picked up by the bus to go to school. The more people who go to school means higher education for a better economy. That is one reason for [Jr High School] to have an architectural class.

Maturing kids with hard work can be an awesome reason for having an architectural class. It can be a great reason because kids will learn to build safer building therefore, keeping people safe from natural disasters or fires. It could also make homes better protected from burglary and dropping the theft rate down lower than it was. So picking an architectural class is the way to go.

Having an architectural class would also help make 'greener' schools and buildings. We could learn about building with recycled materials, making less pollution so we are making an environmentally greener buildings. Also, having an architectural class could build self esteem with ourselves for making a 'green' world. Architectural classes would be an awesome choice.

An architectural class is the choice to make to add to the schedule. I think an architectural class is the class to add. Some reasons for adding an architectural class are building homes for the poor, needy and homeless and maturing kids with hard work and it would build 'greener' schools and buildings. I hope you will agree with me to add an architectural class.

At the risk of embarrassing a boy, I had to share. I left everything as he wrote it, only changing some names to protect the innocent. I don't know why he didn't title it. Spell check corrected some spellings or just some typos. That's it.

I wish all you blog stalkers a happy week, with minimal amounts of crazy.

Winter parenting, 101

First, I'd like to say to all the teachers at my children's school, I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry that you've got to go into that building today and deal with a roomful of children that are hopped up on crazy. Because it's never been this cold here in twenty-bazillion years, and there's ice and it snowed, and all that makes the children go bonkers.

Next, I'd like to say, better YOU than ME. I pay taxes. Get yourselves to my free full time daycare, so I can maintain the level of sanity that I've grown accustomed to.

Don't judge me.

Here's what it looks like from inside my garage looking out, straight at my front porch.




Here's what my backyard looks like. (Picture taken from inside my warm house, looking out the back window.)




Dear children, how do you feel about going to school on this, the coldest day in twenty-bazillion years?




Here's what I said to my friend, Amy, in an email this morning, when she was shocked that we only had a two hour delay. Everything in her area is closed, including the airport.

I know! But, can I be completely honest?!? My idiot children got up, ON THEIR OWN, at regular time, and have been acting like stupid little shits for about an hour and a half, so them going to school is probably going to save their little lives.

But, because LISD closed, the teacher workshops were cancelled, so I don't have
to sub. I only have to get bundled up long enough to drive the 200 yards to
school and drop off my children to a building full of grouchy and mean teachers
who are all over FB this morning complaining about not being cancelled.

Yep! Life is good.

It is bitterly cold, and I worry about this decision to have school, but it's
not up to me. So far, we are blessed to have a working heater and plenty of
blankets! We haven't had any frozen pipes, and we're plugging along as if we
know what to do in the cold.

And, my beautiful husband cleaned out one side of the garage, so my car is safe
and warm inside the garage! yay! yay! yay!!!

Go on children, make mommy proud.




In a cruel twist of irony, I'm being "plan B'd" at this very moment. I've been called to sub for a teacher who is, "taking a personal day, because of the cold."

Thursday night, at basketball, this happened.

Our family has just completed yet another season of Little Dribbler Basketball. This time, it was a team for Fox and Mav. They've got that whole thing going where you're born at the same time; therefore, you automatically get on the same team. As a parent, it's really the only way to do it. I efficiently had my children; therefore, we get double of everything! I'm getting off the subject.



Back to basketball!




'Round these parts, I'm sort of known as an energetic team supporter. I cheer a lot. It's usually loud. It's always positive, unless I'm pointing out some obvious mis-cues. Really? I'm just here to help. I've never been asked to sit down, be quiet or otherwise leave the building. To sum up -- I've never been kicked out of a game. Never even given a warning! I'm just spirited. Yes. That's my story, and I'm stickin' to it.

Thursday night, the Bossman was given a warning. I wouldn't believe it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes! A happier night, I've never had at a basketball game.



I believe the Bossman's exact words were, 'Come on! Call the fouls!' Oh, it was a joyous evening!

The rest of the basketball tournament, the officials 'had their eyes on us'. Which is nothing new for me, but the Bossman couldn't hide behind that mustache anymore. He was a target!



So, for the record.... family members please take note...

It wasn't me this time!

Dilemma.

Question:
What do you do when your very own, brilliant teenager embarrasses you in PUBLIC by screaming at you no fewer than 5(five) times? A whole bleacher stand full of people must think I'm the dumbest mom in the universe. Or, maybe they just think I have the most disrespectful teenager of the day. Either way, it's unpleasant for me.

Answer:




That's my teenager pictured above in the blue underwear.

Lesson learned:
Don't scream at a blogger mom.

You Didn't Notice

I love a good day a the beauty shop! It's one of my favorite things to do. Sure, some people might think once a week is a bit too much, but there's something to be said for maintenance. Truth is spoken in this place. No one leaves the Beauty Shop with toilet paper on their shoe or lipstick on their teeth. In this place, the truth is spoken.

Unless you've needlessly injected collagen into your lips. I can't help you with this irresponsible choice. Also? I'm probably going to make fun of you. Seriously? Bozo looks more mainstream. Invest your money more wisely please.

Today, I'm enjoying an updated color process and a dramatic change to the cut. Gotta keep things fresh and new, exciting and current.

The remainder of the afternoon is spent scurrying around town. Every sales person is in awe. 'I love your hair!' It was said so many times, I lost count. 'Thank you,' I replied, 'it's new today.'

I'm on cloud nine. Beaming with self confidence, I pick up the mooches from school and start the after-school process.

No one says anything. Well, they're just boys. How could they possibly notice everything? The Bossman gets home.... thousands of other meaningless tasks are accomplished. Still nothing. No compliments, no one asks what I did with my day.... nothing.

Right before bedtime, I shriek, 'LOOK AT MY HEAD!' Everyone pauses, looks at my head and in unison asks, 'Did you get a haircut today?'

Slightly.

Yes. A haircut and new color and a new style. People on the street have been mesmerized all day! Yet, my own family? Nothing.

The mooches laugh and begin a chorus of compliments that would have been welcomed after school, but now it's too little, too late. And? It's given in sarcasm, our family's native tongue. OK, OK.... I get it, everyone, go to bed.

The bossman is relentless with his compliments. He's really sweet. He tries. At the end of the day, I'm still the only girl in a house full of boys.




The end result is pleasant. Ever since that one shrieking incident, I return home from the weekly beauty shop visit to a serenade of compliments. It's a very pleasant afternoon.

I love pleasant afternoons.

'Mother of the Year' or 'Did I Really Say That?'; Chapter 2 (Sassy)

My mother is wonderful! She did a great job of raising me in spite of me being her oldest child. (She told me I was her 'experimental' child. She was working out all the kinks of raising kids with me, so she could do a better job with my younger siblings. Ha, ha, very funny Mom.)

I did everything in my power to break her and my father, yet they remained strong. My younger brother and sister had an easier time of it. I paved the way for an easier life. You are both welcome!

Now, I have my own children.

These words actually came out of my mouth earlier this month:

'If I hear one more word about homecoming before Monday morning, we are selling this house and moving back to the big city, where you will attend school with gang bangers and only have homecoming when you're in high school when it is logical to have homecoming!'

Except I screamed it. From the top of my lungs. And. I meant it.

In my defense, it is illogical to have homecoming for an entire WEEK! At our school, everyone 'does' homecoming.... from the smallest 4 year old to seniors in High School, and everyone in between. It can wear a mommy out. Smooth and completely out.

In that moment of being completely worn out, tired and zero patience left for the topic of homecoming, I said those words. You know what? It worked.



Be honest people, after this for an entire week, wouldn't you scream a little too?

"Mother of The Year!" or "Did I REALLY say that?!" CH. 1 (PrissE)

Girls, what are we ALL most afraid of?  Well, yes.  We are afraid that our looks will fade, that our boobs will hit the floor and make the song, "Do Your Boobs Hang Low" actually come to fruition, and that we never be the slim super-model mom we want to be.  But...what is it that terrifies us most?  BECOMING OUR MOMS!

I'm sure you'll agree, after "witnessing" certain interactions between my children and me, that I am not in danger of anytime soon becoming my mother.  You might also be compelled to notify a therapist on my behalf...don't bother...no amount of therapy can change my genetic predisposition to "speaking a bit louder than my #1 voice," or my instinctive sarcastic response (and this IS a scientific/technical term known as ISR recently observed and noted by the experts at Starbucks--look it up)!  This is not to say that, at some point in the near or distant future, I won't exhibit SOME symptoms of maternal-morphing...after all, I did live with her for 18 full years plus four more years during weekends and holidays!

SCENE:
In the middle of the foyer, just inside the front entrance through which all Wednesday night attendees/families are entering, at church Wednesday night:

Big--"Mom, can I go play in the gym for a little bit with the other boys?"

Me--"No. It's time to go home. It's 7:00 and you have a book to finish."

Big (Here's where the boy made his fatal error)--"BUT, WE NEVER GET TO PLAY ANYMORE!!! YOU NEVER LET US PLAY AFTER CHURCH IN THE GYM!"

Me (apparently a little louder than my 'number 1 voice')--"LET'S TALK ABOUT WHAT 'YOU NEVER' AND 'I NEVER,' SHALL WE? FIRST, YOU NEVER HAVE TO GO WITHOUT ANY OF YOUR NEEDS MET--FOOD, SHELTER, CLOTHING, LOVE! SECOND, YOU NEVER HAVE TO GO WITHOUT HAVING SOME OF YOUR WANTS AND DESIRES MET--TOYS, FRIENDS SPENDING THE NIGHT, TRIPS, JUNKFOOD, SPORTS! THIRD, HERE'S WHAT 'I NEVER:' I NEVER BEAT YOU WITH A WIRE HANGER, I NEVER SELL YOU INTO CHILD SLAVERY, AND I NEVER BURN YOU WITH A CIGARETTE! NOW, WOULD YOU LIKE TO CONTINUE THIS CONVERSATION OR SHALL WE GO HOME AND BE RESPONSIBLE CITIZENS??

Big--"Can I ride with Dad?"

Little--"Me too?"

Me--"yes."

and, SCENE.






To be continued.....................................