Peace On Earth & Goodwill Toward (quiet) Man

Peace on earth. There is never going to be peace on earth (actually there will be, but it's a roundabout process as described below). And I will tell you why. Because religious people are filled with stupid questions. That's why.

One of the grand past times of the church goers, is to parade around their buildings discussing in great detail the grand many ridiculous things they plan to "ask G-d" when they "get to Heaven". This boggles the mind. For this scenario, let's say we see the prophecies fulfilled in this lifetime. We are going to see a majority of the world's population slaughtered &/or maimed, a total transformation of the natural world as we know it, and a supernatural battle that will end in such a massacre that blood will be horse bridle deep for miles, and these silly people think that they are going to tap Yeshua on the shoulder and ask Him why the sky is blue as opposed to green, or some other such preposterous nonsense. Haven't these people ever heard of Google? Hmm?

My theory on this is that this is why it says that Yeshua will rule with a rod of iron. I think He will use it to smack people who ask stupid questions directly on their melon and thus bring about peace on earth.

I Am Caesar Sose!

I'm still rather alive, I quite assure you. I am going through my email and schtuff this afternoon, so to everyone I owe info & smoochies, watch for it to arrive sometime today. I am a tad late, but I am learning to embrace this aspect of my personality and so should you. I have no idea why you should embrace it, as it doesn't benefit anyone at all really, but pop psychology says that I'm OK and I wouldn't kick pop psychology out of bed for eating cheese and crackers.

This is the last day of our Hanukkah celebrations. I have to say that having a holiday last for 8 days is absolutely hilarious. I now fully comprehend Adam Sandler's quip (from the Hanukkah song) "Instead of one day of presents, we get 8 craaaazy nights -hee hee". Granted, we didn't do presents every night, and twice Michael had to work late, but overall I'd say we pulled it off rather well. Well enough, in fact, that our neighbor benevolently brought us pork sausage yesterday evening. I hadn't the heart to tell him about kosher, and instead thanked him profusely. With a straight face even. I've got this whole modest, non conceited thing totally handled. I am so unvain that I absolutely amaze myself. I am the least self absorbed person I know. In fact just the other day I was letting someone listen to me tell them about how all I do is think of other people first. Cause that's how I roll, all thoughtful and stuff. I am the queen of charity. I am the role model for modern society and, let's face it, the uncredited backbone of all advanced civilizations and............

Anyway, now we get to start preparations for Christmas. I objected, but was overruled in the court of Michael, which is not a particularly fair court, by the way, and ended my articulate and well planned objections with judicial threats like "I have a whole bag of shhshshshsh with your name on it". On the bright side, though, I now get to make a "gimme" list, which I have been working on all morning. It's amazing how the bar of expectations limbos wildly out of control the poorer you get. For example: I started out with a Kitchen Aid counter mixer, then realized that the was not going to happen. I then lowered the poll to this shirt from Target, but did the math and realized that I couldn't really tell the children that for Christmas Santa brought the whole family that shirt. I then lowered the bar to a used bath bubble maker from the thrift store, but it sold, and I finally settled on used lottery tickets and a half drank bottle of wine that's already in the fridge. The above of course is a total exaggeration and I suppose that I must admit that there really is no truth to it at all (except wanting to the mixer and the shirt). I'm afraid that my conscience gets to me during the holidays regarding these things, but I promise to return to being a conscienceless liar come January.

Pope Paper Dolls

Many people do not believe that the world is ending. However, the fact that you can purchase paper dolls of a pope makes my case for me in its entirety. I'm headed for my secret underground lair, but not before I pick up my scratch 'n' sniff stickers of Jim Jones................. mmmmm, smells like Kool-Aid.............

I Flung A Cake In A Thankful Manner

Yes, I did. It stuck to the pan, and I was slowly trying to remove it from said pan while maintaining a very starchy smile and all of a sudden I flung it. Actually, I am making the claim that it flung itself when it realized how badly it was maimed but I can't prove that.............

Lily has been sick for many days. Langdon has been sick for several days. Dexter has been sick for a couple of days and Summer is on day one. I am absolutely positive it is bird flu, but Michael claims it is just a rather nasty bout of the common cold. Michael really has no imagination in such matters, although when he has spent most of the day roaring about the house threatening to give Dexter to gypsies which I thought was a rather creative solution. And I can't much blame him as Dexter is the kind of child who turns young mothers gray haired and sterile on a good day, so you can surely imagine him with bird flu a nasty cold. He is on hour 32 of screaming his bloody head off and I openly admit that I have researched my current birth control method twice seeking solace in the fact that the odds are in my favor not to reproduce another alien species who preys upon the lifeblood of the unsuspecting child. Of course, he was conceived practically immaculately in the first place, so I often ponder if the reason he is so grumpy is that he knows we were actively trying to avoid him at all costs, but I digress.

Today has given me renewed respect for my family's matriarchs who produced many a grand Thanksgiving dinner, and made it look like something humanly possible. I'm off to make gonocche (it is spelled wrong and I don't give a rat's tushy) icing for the sliver of cake I scraped off the kitchen floor and I plan to carry it to the table with a straight face. If any of my cherub like offspring so much as even make a face, I plan on finishing off whatever glass of white wine I am currently on at the time (and I'm knee deep in the bottle now) and then eating them. In a thankful manner, of course. Happy Thanksgiving.

Pirates Eat Jehovah Witnesses. Everyone Knows This.

The Jehovah Witnesses stopped by today. I have been living on my own now for almost 14 years (don't do the math or you might figure out that I was a runaway teenager who needed a nasty whipping and some major time spent in working the progression of traditional Greek sentence structuring, but I digress........), and I have yet to find a satisfactory way to deal with them. It's a very Seinfeld sort of experience for me where I mumble something about homemade gravy and eternal damnation before slamming the door on them, and then going "AAAAAAH! I should've said - insert any witty thought that was thought too late here!"

I think the girls and I figured it out today. We are making a sign to store by the door so that when they knock we can kindly open it, post our sign and demurely shut it again. Here's what the sign says:

Aaaargh! We're Pirates!

Prozac For The Poor

I have decided to start a seasonal charity called "Prozac For Poor People". Our main activity will be flinging antidepressants at random window shoppers during the holiday season. On days when it is too cold to get out and about, I plan to sit in my living room all day throwing Prozac at myself.

Eating Little Trees

Decapitation & Other Amusing Anomolies

I know, I know............... I can only imagine how annoyed some of you are getting at how often I change locations online. I can't help it! I have the attention span of a retarded gnat, and labor under delusions of grandeur greatly multiplied by antidepressants and slushies.....

Besides, in my defense, the other site wasn't particularly conducive to writing. You simply would not believe the amount of times I sat down to write something over the past couple of months and failed. Miserably. I think it was the fact that their text editor was stone age and included a smilie face icon that just stared and stared and stared at you while you typed. I do not like being stared at. Also worth noting, is that I would accept membership after membership and try to let people in and it wouldn't work. That drove me absolutely stark raving mad; I'm talking The Yellow Wallpaper type mad, which is, literarily speaking, wacky tack out of one's mind. I do not know if literarily is a word, although literariness is in fact a word, yet it seems all around less useful than literarily would be supposing it existed at all.

I don’t like to look out of the windows even—there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast. I wonder if they all come out of that wall-paper as I did?

- quote from The Yellow Wallpaper

Anyway, we are doing well here, although we've had a few stabbings in our apartment complex which is absolutely odd since it is quite lovely and all around quaint and serene. Granted, things are not as they appear but I don't think we are in any danger and I don't suspect, being an avid devotee of the 5'0clock news, that we would fare better anywhere else in such a large city. It seems that stabbing each other is an accepted past time here, and it really doesn't drive property values down or even particularly interest the neighbors unless decapitation is involved for which it rarely is. In fact, seeing as we can't afford the cinema, I have to say that the occasional neighborhood knife dispute has served as more than one evening's source of great entertainment, and also as an ice breaker with our new neighbors who aren't stabbing each other at that moment. For example, here is a transcript of an actual likely conversation while the police tape things off: So, who stabbed whom? Is that your car? I don't believe we've met, but I have been receiving your newspaper for weeks now. I say, was there decapitation involved?

The Jell-O Death Stars of Dr. Seuss

I always liked Dr. Seuss' little Who creatures. Very interesting little things really. If Dr Seuss existed today I suspect they would have him on high doses of ADD meds and psychotherapy to cure his delusions versus celebrating him as a children's author for all time. I'm just saying.....

Time is short here. The link for the new site will be later today. I owe phone calls, emails, etc. but as always bear with me. I am in the process of trying to get us an apartment in the new city, securing movers, working on my own classwork, teaching the children, doing a major overhaul on our belongings (I'm getting rid of everything not tied down or of direct use in amusing Dexter), and working to bring this whole move situation into the realm of a controlled scenario. Or at least something resemblant of.

We will be moving in the next 45 days or so. And I keep reminding my husband via naughty emails: Worth noting here is that the closer we get to moving the more I am rather unhappy about it. Have you reminded your boss that the world is ending and will probably be set in motion by a nuclear attack on our nations capital (thusly baltimore area) that will paralyze our society's operations by completely wiping our government off the face of the map? Hmm? I'm just saying and be forewarned as we sit in our apartment drinking radiated water and breathing the fallout all while our skin rots off and our lungs separate into little jell-o like pieces of artery blocking death stars that I will say "I told you so".

I Miss Stuart Smalley.

I'm sorry, friends & family! I have not been eaten by a landshark posing as UNICEF or injured myself on the little springy animals at the park (again!).

I am in the process of relocating the blog to an actual site. It has the blog, has pictures, has games, and does not have gonorrhea (just seeing if you're paying attention). It is fantabulous and is geared toward being a hub of communication for our family & friends versus a Google archived forever record of Becca-isms that I keep getting in trouble for anyway.

We are working on schoolwork. We are dealing with strange men coming in and out (no, and how rude of you to think so) regarding estimates for the move, and the stupid sun is shining so the kids are all "oh let's go outside and be healthy......... oh let's go get fresh air........" . This is the absolute agony of springtime; I abhor it.

Dear Gerber,

This communication is regarding the "milestone celebration" emails you insist on sending my mother. Please stop. It is bad enough that she is paying 3 times the going price for over hyped "organic" pureed garden dirt (and is convinced that if she purchases regular baby food that it is actually pureed rat poison with orange food coloring and artificial carrot flavoring), she is now printing out pictures of baby's who have been coerced into following your developmental schedule and taping them to my playpen. It's getting ridiculous.

As a matter of fact, please watch for a future communication from my lawyer regarding this exact situation. After watching a news special yesterday that made the substantiable claim that babies who don't reach milestones when they are supposed to are more likely to grow up to be inmates and graffiti artists, and in the same day received one of the aforementioned "milestone" emails she took away all my developmental toys and threw me in the corner with sugary cereals and finger paints. While the lack of pressure to perform one receives when located in the corner is enjoyable for short periods of time, I find that I am unable to disrupt people's schedule, destroy important tax related mailings or chew electrical cords to my heart's content. These things are an important aspect of my "pursuit of happiness" and thusly you are interfering with my first amendment rights. Big time.

While the lines of communication are buzzing, let's get a few things out in the open here. I do not sit up by myself and have no intentions of ever doing so. I do not like your crappy pureed vegetable poo and refuse to be ready for solids. Ever. I have no intentions of potty training on schedule, developing hand-eye coordination or going to college.

Warmest Regards,
Dexter

PS - I watch the stock markets and I hope Nestle does take you over. I guarantee they will nix all this "organic" dirt pie doodles and start cranking out Chocolate Carmel Marshmallow Baby Delight. Yum.

Lewis & Clark Simply ADORE My Pants

Yes, friends, I managed to get rather lost again today. I have so far managed to get lost on this particular trip every single time we've had to make it which counting on my fingers and toes adds up to a grand total of: quite a lot of times.

Today, however, I managed to create a new personal best: I got so lost that I landed in another state by no insignificant amount. Indeed I ended up in another state at a historical point that Lewis & Clark visited but evidently no one had thought to since. So I backtracked through my original route, except I ended up crossing two, count them again please - I said two, rivers that I hadn't crossed in the first place.

By no small miracle I ended up back in familiar territory using my usual method of following random people who seemed know where they are going and aggressively do so laboring under a grand delusion of self importance; such people are quite useful for finding things actually. They want everything, and are always on their way to buy something thus leading to points of commerce. Points of commerce are always situated between communities, and if you can get to one of these it's just a matter of playing InkyPinkyPonky to see where to go from there.

Anyway, I was so glad to see an area I knew that I immediately stopped and bought a pair of pants. They're quite nice too and were at a fabulous sale price.

I Credit My Goldfish For Saving The Day

I hate boring looking credit cards. I mean, if you are going to deliberately engage in financial behaviors that in like 73% of Americans lead to monetary mismanagement and accumulative debt, it should be attractive, you know?

My MasterCard had cheesy scribbly flowers on it. But the other day I got a mailing from them that showed other cardholders had dorky goldfish on their card and I felt equally used and betrayed.

So this morning I called my credit card company and demanded goldfish, no annual fee and a lower rate of interest. I got the goldfish. Life is totally sweet.

Singapore Is Punny

I hope to be on to post later this afternoon, friends & family. I know I've fallen sadly behind lately.

The Spring school semester is always challenging (sunlight makes children's brains fall out and shrivel up) and I'm prepping the house for the move like mad (I've decided to get rid of everything but underwear and Chicken In A Biscuit crackers). I've also got a new project or two underway (hint: one of them is based in Singapore and the other one is "bound" to excite somebody). Ha. I'm into puns today.

Moo Shoo You. Yummy.

Am I the only one watching these hearings involving Valerie Plame (the whole Scooter Libby issues) and wanting to hock up a good one and spit it on her shoes?

We all know that I don't like or trust people in general and I have an intense dislike of the female species especially. They are evil personified and cannot be trusted under any circumstances. I know this because I am female. Our very nature is to manipulate in an attempt to dominate. This is why I have so few friends - very few make it through my selection process, but I love dearly those that do, although admittedly I wouldn't trust you not to eat me if we were stuck in a mountain pass for a long period of time without food. No, dear friends, I wouldn't turn my back for a second and neither should you. I would make moo-shoo-you and not think twice. N0w back to our regularly scheduled post.

If this woman is representative of the type of female our government employs in its representation abroad it is no damn wonder half the world is trying to blow us up and the other half is trying to smother us in tennis shoes.

Smash Trees For Fun & Profit

I am still alive. Mostly.

Summer is quite sick so I have my hands full with that (here is where I would insert the vomit joke but I'm too tired). It is also test week. While I am against standardized testing (for those that aren't have you ever thought about who is being tested for what purpose and graded by what standard? hmmm?), the 4th week of the month is a review of our covered material and, yes, tests, although not standardized at all, I assure you.

I am also writing a business plan. For no other reason than if other people can do it than I can do it better. I need to stop writing a moot business plan and spend that time picking up hours for my job that actually pays real $$, but I can't help it. I am the genetic offspring of 2 entrepreneurs which has also given me the insight to all the reasons to absolutely not entrepreneur anything (yea, I just made the noun a verb). However, I simply can't resist laying things out on paper; I suspect it's an underlying hatred of trees.

Kawaii You See Me?

I caught myself lecturing the kids on what kind of retirement village I preferred this afternoon. Realizing this it made me throw up a little in my mouth. And I immediately came home and spent my entire year's worth of gift allowance $$$ on imported kawaii gameboy games, as well as a new system as mine was confiscated by my offspring. Ha. I ain't old. I am too damn immature to be old. So there.

Divorces & Downright Naughty Infants

Today I went to the optometrist for the first time in 6 years. I believe we've been too damn broke for me to be so blind that feeding the medical industry beast is evil and we should all try to do it less. Thus why I'm having my next child under the dining room table. By the by, now that I can actually see, I have to tell you that you simply must do something about those roots. Yikes. Go buy some Clairol or something.

Anyway, I've been nursing a pair of 30 day disposable contacts for 6 years and the optometrist was so impressed that he gave me my contacts absolutely free. He was almost giddy he was so excited about what I had managed to do; what a dork. On the bright side though, I think I made medical history for something other than my uterus. I also ordered a pair of glasses just so you know. They're quite cute. Summer said I looked like a slutty secretary.......... so of course I immediately bought them.

I am currently going through my yearly bitter phase over my parent's divorce which should end sometime mid-April. I schedule this yearly and plan to stop as soon as things are the way they were supposed to be with my Dad hitting my kids with canes and running over their feet with a wheelchair and my Mom teaching them macramé and forcing them to color in the sunlight until they get migraines. Everything is all upside down and I have found the best way to not be permanently disappointed over this is to set aside 1/4 of the year to be quite snarky and irritable and then just not think about it for the rest of the year. My siblings should try this by the way; scheduled bouts of bitterness and depression keep it all in check thus leaving the rest of the year open for things like cotton candy and shark documentaries. I'm just saying............

Also, while I have your attention I would like to share with you that my youngest child is a wretched little beast. Mind you he's absolutely darling with all his "rolls of love & happiness" (read fat rolls) and is quite affectionate in his own way, but he's rather wearing over all. He scratches, pushes, pinches, pulls, grunts, squawks, and generally disrupts everything within a 3 mile radius. I lose handfuls of hair a day from his yanking it out and my face looks like I fought a ghetto battle for Juicy Juice and lost. I'm sure he'll grow up to be absolutely lovely, but for now I'm having a t-shirt printed up for him that says "My Mom Calls Me Birth Control".

Mush & T-Bones - Oh, Yummy Day!

Yesterday I had one of those experiences that camera cell phones were specifically created for. I saw a man in a wheelchair who had harnessed a rather large group of totally random dogs to the front of it and was hurtling down the street. Wheelchair mushing............. who knew such a thing existed? I actually have a camera phone, but didn't take the picture for 2 reasons. One, he was moving to damn fast and 2 it seemed of questionable taste to put a picture of disabled person up on the internet strictly for entertainment value. My conscience got the better of me; it won't next time.

Yesterday I also avoided probably the most serious "almost accident" of my life by about 2 inches. A SUV pulled out in front of us for a tasty t-bone situation. The SUV driver realized what she had done but we were so close she just threw her hands up over her face and was screaming. Yes, we were close enough to see that; hell, we were close enough for me to tell you she had on a silver pendant. By the grace of God I somehow managed to get our new van around the other vehicle. It has to have been a miracle. So yay for new vans with great brakes and modern steering systems. Had this happened in our old van that we were still driving last week there is no question we would've hit. And, yes, I thought of you RYL! Yikers.

We are finishing up our work this month and preparing for our tests next week so I'll be on and off. I also have to pick up some shifts for work (to avoid getting a naughty email) and I'm of course working on a new project because life didn't seem busy enough. I wasn't, after all, crying every day.

See & Do - All About Cities

The great thing about living in a city is you never get bored. There is too much to see and do.

For instance, just the other day our family was driving down a busy street. We saw a homeless man tip his cart over and then proceed to yell personal insults at his boxes. We saw a hooker get a date. We saw a frozen yogurt stand that stays open all year long.

For those that missed it, I repeat: a frozen yogurt stand that stays open all year long.

Nope, you never get bored in cities.

Double Dutch & Mushrooms ala Anime

AGAIN with the not posting for several days. I know, I know........... I am shirking my obligations to confuse and insult the masses. I'm working on the family website again. I locked my own dang self out and they won't let me back in because they are laboring under a delusion that they already solved the problem. Idiots.

So here's your Becca trivia for the day: I have several pointless froo-froo games on my cellphone where I help big eyed anime creatures jump rope and eat mushrooms. And people feel I didn't live up to my potential. If they only knew...................

Wheeeeeeeeee! For Super Mario 3

Click on the image below to check out my new FireFox theme. Yet another opportunity to celebrate my secret inner Nintendo nerd. I am now only 2 steps away from taking over the world! mwa ha ha ha aha h a..........................

I love retro gaming more than grilled cheese sandwiches. I dislike modern gaming except for JAWS where you get to eat stupid people swimming at the beach. Now THAT's a game.

I'm Ret T'Go

For anyone who laid awake last night gnawing their nails to the quick about whether I was accepted for the job thingie (very technical term oft used by professionals for items related to the space station and general physiology). My last exam was 100% and I completed my interview/conference last night. As Wanda from In Living Color Would Say: "I'm ret t'go"

McCarthyism & Mastercards

Are you all dying to know what happened with the car shopping? I so know you are. So here's the deal. We always buy older cars with in house financing because our credit could be better we are big believers in staying under the federal government's radar. I have no idea why I associate credit with the Communist lists of McCarthy but I do. There is a correlation there, I'm telling you; I just haven't been able to fish it out of my brain yet because my medication is supposed to suppress my paranoid delusions I've been busy.

Anyway, on a whim we went to a normal car lot and applied for financing. Somehow we were approved within 10 minutes. Go figure, huh? We actually qualify for a car loan. While this is nothing for most people, we've spent the last 10 years surviving on pizza delivery wages, waitressing tips, and student loans trying to scrape by. We've never qualified for anything. Except once I qualified to be part of a drug trial for crazy people. I declined.

So, we got a vehicle. It's a Kia Sedona. It so new it's still under factory warranty and damn shiny to boot. I was going to take a pic of the van but it is thunder storming. So here's one I raped and pillaged from the internet.

Rumors Of My Death.......

.......have once again been greatly exaggerated.

We spent all day yesterday at the car dealer and I spent all day today finalizing my paperwork before the final exam for my company placement. I will spend all day tomorrow cleaning and all day Sunday planning lessons for the upcoming week.

I really love you all, friends & family. I will get there eventually. Remember, I never promised I was a dependable friend but I'm great at a party.

K-Fed for Daddy Of The Year

Is it really, truly possible that most of America is hoping K-Fed gets custody so at least those 2 boys have a chance? Stupid Britney, tricks are for kids! PS- Shaving off your hair isn't really going to get you around a conclusive drug test. Idiot. Poor stupid bald little idiot.

And you people think the world isn't ending? We're talking about K-Fed actually looking appealing as a father. It's all over but the crying people. The world is hurtling full tilt towards the apocolypse. I'm taking my Twizzlers and going to the roof.

Stealing My Stationwagon

We are scheduled to go to the auto dealer Thursday. While that isn't particularly exciting to most people, we only buy a car every 5 or 6 years because we have horrible credit from student loan to income ration believe in living debt free.

Each time we go through this we not only buy something "newer", we also aim to purchase something "originally nicer" so that the next time we are in a better position to upgrade. It's worked out pretty well. It was my idea, by the way. Michael refuses to take part in the car purchasing process so that if it sucks it's all on me; that's okay though because I have a pretty good car nose and so he has to give me props for it every single time he gets in the vehicle and it starts. Anyway, so far we :

• started out in a crappy Caravan
• minor upgrade to something we called a Frog (it was only an upgrade because it ran and the old van didn't)
• then to a Taurus Stationwagon
• next was to a Mitsubishi (which coined the forever popular Grantham term "tooling around town in your Mitsubishi")
• and finally landed in a Voyager (little Star Trek humor there in case you missed it)
  
• to which we added an exact replica of our original Taurus Stationwagon (two cars is always better than one).
  
• This time we were lucky enough to locate a Town & Country in our range and if all goes well we should pick it up Thursday. By the time we upgrade again people will probably be starting to get sick of their Hummers. Little auto humor there. Wasn't very funny though was it?

Affording this one has required me to not only turn over my van as trade in but also my stationwagon. I'm a little bitter over that. I had planned to put fatty tires on it, paint it red, add flames, a sweet stereo system and have it shag carpeted. The really sad thing is you all think I'm kidding; you just don't know me at all. So sad. Michael promised to replace it with an equally dorky one to fix up in a few years but he's lying.

Felony Theft's Relation To Cheese Whiz

I was robbed! Geez. I finished my last section of content training modules and went to take the section exam. After that I would've advanced on to the final exam and if that was passed they got one more shot at me with the training overview assessment.

I clicked on the section exam and it booted my butt directly into the final. Which is fine except LANGDON PUKED ALL OVER MOST OF MY NOTES LAST NIGHT and so I had next to nothing to refer to (I had planned on revisiting past modules and replacing my notes before the exam). And, yes, we are expected to refer to our notes because the amount of information is so massive and indepth that training is actually a bootcamp in note taking versus information absorption.

82.7% I was robbed I tell you. Ah, well there are worse things than mediocrity. Cheese Whiz comes to mind. I'm off to put on my khaki pants and admire how poorly I look.

Not For Wussies With Weak Stomachs

So Dexter threw up on me. He threw up all over my shirt and thoroughly saturated one side of my head. And I started yelling and running in circles trying to get the vomit out of my ear. The girls were no help as they stood there pointing and yelling things like "it's all over", "oh geez I'm gonna never have kids" etc. etc..........................

I am handed a towel. I began to try to wipe the vomit off my shirt and sqeeze it out of my hair. And I am struck in the back full force with more vomit. Lots of vomit. Macaroni & Cheese with Hot Dogs vomit. It was Langdon.

And as I stood there with puke dripping out of my hair, soaking through my shirt, and running down both legs it occured to me that all of this happened within 3 feet of the computer and they both had missed it entirely as well as missing the taxes paperwork. Life is pretty good. Although Lang managed to thoroughly saturate over 24 pages of handwritten notes for my work exams which is too damn serious. Ah, well.................. kids, right?

So it looks like Langdon is now coming down with it. Please, please, please dont' give up on me (Shanna, Kim, RYL, emma, Shanny, etc......). I swear I am going to get email, messages, etc. taken care of once things settle down here. I am literally knee deep in it right now......

I'm A Proficient Twinkie

It's strange being "academically tested" as an adult. In fact, I'm waiting for a response back from the ACLU on this very matter.

The company I work for is wearing me down with exam after exam, but I was pondering this afternoon and I've decided to sue. To test my proficiency in required skills is to indicate that you/the company believes that I didn't have the skills to start with originally. That is calling me stupid. You cannot call me stupid; it's illegal since the infamous 1974 court case (I'm bluffing - there is no court case so put Google down and walk away). I suspect that you are calling me stupid because I'm a girl and I look poorly in khaki pants. I have nothing to back that up but that's what I'm going with.

Which frankly is even worse because I work through the phone and you can't see me thus you are assuming I'm a girl because I have a whiney voice and complain a lot and you're assuming I look poorly in khaki pants because most women do (especially ones who call in for interviews eating twinkies which really wasn't my fault because I thought it was a machine I was talking to and everyone knows it's good joujou to interview with machines while eating twinkies so screw you).

Back to my point. Tests are discriminatory. So what if I'm not proficient? Can you really refuse me a job on those grounds under our current politically correct system of minority balance? Hmmm? Don't worry. I'm actually quite proficient. I never score less than a 97% and the one time I did I proved it was the test and not me. And it's usually a 100% but I thought that putting that up was just arrogant. Anyway, I'm just posting this in defense of all the stupid girls who look poorly in khaki pants since there seems to be so many of them.

My company loves me. They think I'm pretty. They want to marry me..........

Ooh La Lips

Stumbled across this site the other day and had to share it for obvious reasons.

Ooh La Lips

I think this site officially has more lip care products than I do. Now you see, that's impressive stuff right there.

Potty Humor Bridges Generations

Dexter is very sick. The actual vomiting has somewhat subsided since we put him strictly on Pedialyte and because he is consuming gallons and gallons every 4 minutes adequate amounts he is actually managing to stay hydrated. Surprisingly condsidering the diaper issues, as we shall refer to "it", has gotten extraordinarily bad. Horrible. Really, truly, mind boggling. Kick your mama in the face astoundingly bad.

I will never talk about what happened this morning. Never. Not even for candy. Suffice it to say that I had the experience you always hear about as a parent but suspect is a myth generated by other parents as an excuse to work potty humor (that was banned by their Mum at age 8) back into adult conversation with a straight face. Nay. I will not discuss it.

I'm really into prepositional phrases lately. I really need to get over that; it's simply annoying and not at all adequate in carrying my point to fruition. Ha. I love Dictionary's Word Of The Day.

Hydrangea Hoedown

So, I am training for a rather complex new part of my job. It is a challenge even for spastic (yet unapprecietedly brilliant) me. I had a shrink once that said I had ADD but I couldn't listen to him long enough to understand what that meant. I think I understand now.

I am also working having to work through the new curriculum, exactly as the kids will, in advance of them. In other words, I go to 2nd grade math, social studies, language arts, science and bible every night. I also go to 4th grade math, social studies, language arts, science and bible every night. Oh, and by the way I also go to 6th grade math, social studies, language arts, science and bible every night. I also go to pre-k but I can't complain there; I have this whole color and shapes thing down flat. Now let's not add in the enrichment activities I plan or the elective schedules (foreign languages, etc.) that the girls are dying to start this semester. Mind you, I'm not complaining. I have a well documented fear of women's thighs and let me tell you this: there is an immeasurable amount of women's thighs in a PTA meeting; absolutely immeasurable. Therefore I consider myself lucky; I teach and by doing so manage to avoid most situations involving cellulite spread over metal folding chairs. I just wanted you to understand be really impressed with and send me candy what I do every night.

Anyway, all of the above was leading to the fact that Dexter got horribly sick today. Fever sitting at 102 and projectile vomiting; so dehydrated the diarrhea wasn't working out for him and up so many times last night the neighbors said horrible things and I heard them through the floor. Buttheads, anyway..... Called the pedi and she has so many other babies in the office with the same thing she wouldn't even see him. Sooooooooo he's on pedialyte for 24 hours, a tylenol/ibuprofen cocktail, and lots of wiggling & jiggling while pacing. So I'm doing that while going back and forth from my computer classes and to the homeschool area to the curriculum.

I was going to complain about my marriage this post but will instead tell you that I bought a lovely bouquet of flowers today and smashed it on accident. And for anyone that is feeling like this post is a downer - YOU'RE WRONG.

I'm actually having a good day and just wanted to point out that I am a total bad ass. Therefore you should appreciate me more and add my name back to the family tree. And you should send me candy.

Designing Not Resigning

Yes, the design did change. No, it isn't complete. I haven't the time. Neither is it fantastic. I haven't the skills. I mean, I've got skills - my DH wanted 1 child and had 5. I obviously have skills. The question is whether that is in the dark or in the art of manipulation. I leave that to your imagination. And the only reason I included the rather disturbing verbal imagery (much to everyone's chagrin) in the last sentence is because I wanted the opportunity to point out that manipulation and imagination rhyme.

Anyway, I am allowing some advertising/sponsors to enter the L3 enviroment. While I understand they can be quite distracting, they are also kind of bright and shiny with snazzy little pictures. Like a raccoon, I simply cannot resist such things. Also, they can pay rather well, resulting in my being able to afford a design by a professional. One simply cannot take over the world properly when their blogs are dressed in secondhand togs. And again with the no one would've realized that blogs and togs rhyme without my bringing it to your attention. And you're very welcome. I blog to please.

Yes. We are entering a unit on poetry. On the bright side, I am merely bringing into this blog the rhyming baggage and not the haiku crap.

A Very Merry Valentine's Day To ME!

WoOt! Just got the email from the company I work for that I have recieved the much coveted invitation to train with a company I have been waiting to get on with for freaking ever. Yay me! This means however that I will be training while starting a new curriculum. Yikes. Oh, well, nevertheless, Yay ME!

And Family: The website is now fully functional. I'll email the link again this afternoon. Go participate. Please. I should be able to approve people fairly quickly. Am waiting for an email from the company as I locked myself out of the main account again. I do things like that. Often.

Christianity Goes Camping

Christianity has divided itself hundreds of times over the years. But it seems to me, and I could be oversimplifying here, that there are 2 camps of Christians in modern America. One that seeks to bring the Bible to the believer where he is at, and the second that attempts to bring the believer to the Bible where it is at (has always been).

And you can't join the two systems because they are foundationally at odds with each other in every single aspect. In fact, to subscribe to the biblical approach of the first, one must assume that scripture is A) not inerrant and B) open for interpretation - this camp leans heavily on teachers to tell them what it is they believe exactly and are easily swayed from the hottest new published book to the most attractive new singer to the best put together website or radio show. To subscribe to the second, one must assume the exact opposite, meaning that the Bible is in fact inerrant, and is not open to interpretation but is instead a literal communication. This group does value teachers but believe self study of scripture is absolutely necessary, which, to be fair, has on occasion led to things like Jonestown.

Pondering, pondering, pondering.................... I wonder which camp of thought wrote the curriculum I purchased? =sigh= Off to investigate. I should've done so before purchase but I had a molecular genetics induced panic attack. It happens. And if you reread that you'll understand why it's so deserately humourous. Or not.

Indeed

"It is…sometimes easier to head an institute for the study of child guidance then it is to turn one brat into a decent human being."

-Joseph Wood Krutch

Blowing Snow. Get Your Mind Out Of The Gutter.

It's been snowing since the wee hours of this morning. Why this may seem an expected aspect of winter for many of you, I just spent 6 years in the South where snow was regarded as mythical substance of which one heard about a great deal but never actually saw. Like unicorns. Like Leprechauns. Like families in modern America not rife with dysfunction; mythical, I tell you.

So we took one of our snow days. Such an announcement was so well recieved by the masses (my large # of children) that they did my chores for the day and decided to get along; which lasted extraordinarily well until one of them spoke. I suppose I won't let them know that we are awaiting the arrival of our new curriculum direction anyway, and the worst I would've academically demanded of them was math, creative writing and penmanship. But they don't need to know that because then I might lose my rockstar status.

Anyway, dear ones, it is snowing scads. It hasn't stopped or even let up really at all and is promised to continue into the night. I've spent a great deal of time today in my work area, looking out the window and thinking of unique ways to punish my husband for making me move to the South where I missed this for years on end; however, as he walks home from the train every night and will have to wade through ice, slush and snow in the bitter cold and dark tonight I'll let life itself serve up its version of justice.

PS - Everynight I offer to go pick him up but he won't hear of it. I'm not completely heartless you know; just mostly. Anyway, maybe I'll share my recipe tonight for what I'm cooking. It could kick off the long awaited series of posts called 101 Reasons To Dismember A Chicken. Very exciting stuff; most things involving small animal cadaveors usually are.

Stigmata For StarBursts

The popularly held belief is that the cumulative value of one's life lay in the quality of their intentions. I have come to the conclusion that this is incorrect. IDEAS. The cumulative quality of one's life lies in the quality and, in some notable cases, quantity of their ideas.

Instead of the gray areas of human nature when analyzing the intentions behind one's actions, ideas are extraordinarily black and white. As in: There are good ideas and bad ideas. Granted, there are some variations such good ideas that go bad, bad ideas that turn out good, etc. but in the overall ideas are transclucent indicators of the individual who originally spawned the enacted idea. Here are some examples:

• Good Idea - looking both ways before crossing the street
  
• Bad Idea - siphoning gas using your mouth (my retarded ex-husband can vouch for this one personally)

Now some variations, as I see some of you puckering your mouths in disagreement already:

• Good Idea Gone Bad - Cleaning your wood furniture is a good idea. Cleaning your wood furniture with Clorox SoftScrub and a metal brush is a bad idea. Together they make the ever popular Good Idea Gone Bad variation.
• Bad Idea Gone Okay - Stealing some lady's purse is a bad idea. Finding out that you stole the purse of a man dressed up like a woman and said purse was overflowing with written confessions of serial killer activities that you turn over to the cops for a large reward thus no longer having to snatch purses is a good idea and makes your Bad Idea Turned Out Okay variation which really is extraordinarily rare, but is far more common than the Bad Idea Turned Out Good.

So that is my explanation for all future posts in the ongoing series entitled Good Ideas/Bad Ideas by Becca. Here is the first.

Having a c-section with Dexter was a good idea as I probably would've had the hemmorage during labor instead of after thus killing us both. Having a tummy tuck at the same time I had the c-section was a bad idea as I am now horribly maimed and have no feeling in my belly and upper pubic area as well as having been left with the sign of the cross emblazened across my midsection (1st c-section went belly button to pubic bone - 2nd c-section went hip to hip). This Good Idea Gone Bad Idea situation has left me with 2 options:

• I sign a notarized statement promising the general public that I will never wear a 2 pc bathing suit again.
  

or

• I throw myself at the mercies of the Catholic church claiming stigmata (the sign of the cross on my belly) and hope they give me candy.
  

Eat Bananas. B-A-N-A-N-A-S. Eat Bananas.....

So Dexter likes bananas. This is a huge event in our lives as we have been attempting solids for an ashamedly long time in hopes of sleeping through the night to make his tummy feel better and we have gotten absolutely nowhere. Nada. Zip. Rare is the molecule of solid food that has stayed inside the mouth of Chubbles The Angry Piggy, and in fact, most solid foods have exited via the gnashing of teeth while using my face for target practice.

Tonight, because I had nothing better to do and am by my very nature a sadomasochist I care greatly for his health and well being, we broke out the bananas. And he ate the entire jar; rather hurriedly in fact.

I'm hoping this goes better than the time I attempted to force feed him prunes. He had an allergic reaction to those that involved a bad case of the hives, much screaming, and back arching all while attempting to claw out my eyes.

Unusual Degrees Of Flammability

Does one suppose that God hasn't stopped smiting people at all but is instead on a temporary hiatus from smiting as his favorite method -spontaneous human combustion- was written off by the scientific community as an anomoly instead of divine retribution? Hmmm? Anyone?

Yeah. I don't know either. I will say that spontaneous human combustion is totally sweet. Assuming that I'm not the one on fire.

Food For Thought. Or Not.

I rarely regret being poor at this point in our life. I am regretting it a bit as we try to find a way to acquire a new vehicle. I regret it a bit when I am denied chinese food by this whole "pay the electricity bill" sort of mentality that has engulfed my husband. And, as I stumbled upon this I regretted it terribly................ =sigh= Oh to be wealthy enough to sit on a such a toilet =sigh=

PS - No. I'm not kidding.

I'm Such A Loser

I just ordered a boxed curriculum for my offspring. I deserve to die a slow painful death that involves equally sloths and chocolate syrup.

I, however, cannot go on in the fashion that we are doing at this point. I am driving myself into the ground attempting to design a curriculum for 4 different grade levels in 5 core subjects (plus enrichment activities).

At 4AM this morning as I sat feeding my very fat and greedy little darling (because sleeping through the night is for loooooosers according to Dexter), it occured to me that if I opened the living room windows and jumped out in an exuberant fashion that the odds of actually dying were in my favor. And I think it was at that point I realized that something had to change.

And while I was pondering whether it would be unwise to ask Michael for help opening said window it occured to me that Summer is headed straight into molecular genetics. C'mon people, make an effort to stay with me; you're making this all very difficult........... And I threw up a little. I then spent a large portion of time trying to figure out a way to tie such a study into the current route of our curriculum this year and I realized 3 things:

1. I don't care about molecular genetics. I don't care at all.
   
2. I don't know anything about molecular genetics. Certainly not enough to formulate a curriculum aspect about it.
   
3. Michael has moved into the lab and so, while he knows a great deal about molecular genetics, he isn't currently taking our calls (j/k).

And so I did a very shameful thing. I bought a boxed curriculum. And I must admit that I feel equally relieved and guilty. But let's face it kids, I'm worn out and I'm talking on a deeper level than sleep is going to fix.

I'm off to do pennance in the corner while eating a Snickers bar and quietly giggling about all the new free time I'm going to have................ yeah, and if a frog had wings it wouldn't bump its ass when it hopped.

Why Mackenzie Will Not Give My Eulogy

Setting the scene: Mom is making out the menu for next week so she can create a grocery list. Mackenzie enters the room with a sweater from Mom's closet..................

Mom: (writing)
Mon: chicken & dumplings
Tue: jambalaya
Wed: leftovers or hot sandwich
Thur:......

Kenzie: Why don't you wear this? Are you too fat for it?

Mom: (writing)
Mon: chicken & dumpings dirt
Tue: jambalaya mud
Wed: leftovers or hot sandwich poo..........
Thur:........

Note To Family: I am never "too fat" for anything. I just occasionally go on religious hiatuses from everything I own.

Go Lick A Pole

It is snowing here. My children completed their schoolwork and went out to play. My oldest daughter dared my middle daughter to stick her tongue to a pole; which she did. And it stuck. The daughter that dared came and got me. We rushed own three stories with warm water. She had already violently removed her tongue and was bleeding no small amount. The neighbors were staring. The third daughter, who's light seems a little dimmer than 40 watts in certain circumstances, never even looked up from where she was drawing on the sidewalk, even while her older sister flailed around with her face stuck to a pole not 3 ft from where she was sitting.

So for anyone awaiting my response via phone, email or smoke signal, please read the above situation. Twice.

The Color Red Is In The Building

Mom: Today we're working on red, Lang. Are apples red?
Lang: yep
Mom: Let's color them red then
Lang: (scribbles wildly across the paper)
Mom: How about a valentine heart? Is that red?
Lang: 'spose I guess yit yis
Mom: Fair enough. Well, color it red cause we 'spose it's red
Lang: (scribbles a little less enthusiastically)
Mom: How about strawberries? Yum, yum! Are they red?
Lang: They yar now............ (scribbles one weak line) I'm yeaving. Don't fayow me.

Fayow means follow for those who don't speak toddler. Yes he actually said this. Yes I blame his sisters. And yes we were done for the day. I must say it went much better than Blue day.

Disputing 30 Days

I have a lot of children. I am past the 30 day return policy on all of them. Somehow that doesn't seem fair; I think a 30 year return policy is better. As babies they make huge messes, as toddlers they throw huge fits, as teenagers they cost huge amounts of money and in their twenties they cause huge amounts of stress and almost debilitating disappointment.

All of that times 5 in my case. Somehow it just doesn't seem right. I am taking the rest of the day off and the first child who loses the current round of the Quiet Game that I am making them play will go to the pound.

Meandering

Meandering means to walk stupidly this a way and that a way through the Wal-Mart parking lot.

This has been Vocabulary According to Becca. You may all get out of the sharing circle now and sniff glue go have a cracker.

Navigating Cities & The Humor Of Ham

Getting around a city, especially a new one, takes some getting used to. I have theory on this so grab your pen and paper because you are in for a real treat:

Follow the people who seem to know where they are going; if they are so sure they want to go there then they must be going somewhere good.

This has only failed me two times; both of those time I ended up at meat packing plants. Had I been able to come up with a plausible reason to go to such a place then the theory wouldn't have failed at all but it was extraordinarily difficult to come up with an excuse to frequent a place that overflows with blood and intestinal excess. On the bright side, now that we homeschool I will just waltz right in there and ask for a 3 hour tour because such establishments are considered a staple educational experience; this will mean that my theory never fails. Ever.

Friends & Family Type People - I hope to catch up with everyone this weekend. This week has kicked my butt up one side of the street and down the other. On the bright side we have advanced all of the girls into new math concepts, instituted a generally agreed upon proofreading system and spent a large portion of Michael's money (when he comes home I'll be sure to tell him all of these things except the money part). We also are approaching the end of our indepth study of biblical lineages and their ramifications on world population. The girls managed to not laugh too hard that Noah named one of his children Ham. A huge accomplishment considering the last time we discussed Noah and his son Ham they acted a fool all week claiming that they would name their offspring Salami and Bacon. Little idiots. Anyway, have patience; I do love you ever so much; certainly more than my IUD but that's another post.

Shame In Canned Goods

Actual
The rod and reproof give wisdom: but a child left to himself bringeth his mother to shame. -Proverbs 29:15


Paraphrased.
I really must occasionally nail Langdon's hiney; otherwise he will insist on acting a fool at the supermarket.

Ha. And people argue that the Bible isn't applicable to today. Someday I will share with you my revision on the verse of how they "stole her veil and brought her shame" to an updated modern Baptist "they stole my dang hat............"

Oh, Sugar Sugar...........

Again and again in modern society you hear the term 'niche'. This person has found their niche. It's an odd little niche. Maybe they should've thought a little bigger............

No I won't tell you how I found that site. If I told you that then I would no longer be shrouded in the mystique of internet saviness.

Reason #1 to Procreate

Here is my first offering in an ongoing series of reasons to procreate.

If you only have one or two children, the only nicknames they get dubbed are things like "tooter" or "cutie patootie" or "bubba" or even possibly (although I can't imagine why) "stinky winky". When you have older siblings to come up with the nicknames you get things like "Chubbles The Angry Piggy". This is also why the younger children in families often need therapy as adults.

Hot Pockets & Her Appendix

Pop On The Pop: Lindsay Lohan Freezes Her Appendix To Prevent eBAY Sale

........And I thought that I was vain. Of course, it just never occured to me that someone might want my placentas or tumors. I feel so violated. I am absolutely going to call my doctors and request those things back because they're mine and I can. I will also keep them in my freezer right next to the Hot Pockets and on top of the popsicles.

And The Surgeons All Sing "doot da doot da doot doot da doot"

We left for the hospital bright and early this morning. Yes, I got a shower in and actually spent extra time doing superfluous hygiene activities since I missed so much yesterday. We arrived a few minutes late, but not for lack of trying. It's been a long time since I've driven 80MPH in 3 lanes of traffic while singing along to Prince. I must've been having a good hair day though because a man licked his window at me. Always nice to recieve a compliment!

His doctor arrived an hour late with the worst case of bedhead and sleep in the eyes I've ever seen. The nurses laughed and said he wasn't a morning person, and I couldn't help but wish I had known that sooner; I would've scheduled an afternoon surgery! :) We dressed him in orange scrubby pjs, added little socks that were miniatures of the ones I wore when I got the c-section and they carried him away...................

I realized at that point that I haven't had actual peace and quiet since Dex has been born. I usually have him and even if someone else has him, they stay within 3 feet of me asking questions (why is dexter crying? what's that smell? is that gonna stain? why are you crying?). When they carried Dex off to the OR, I realized that I was about to have a small window of absolute silence to think Beccafied thoughts just like the good old days. So here's a quick list of the thinks I did think while Dex was in surgery:

• If sisters marry brothers are the offspring genetically interchangable?
• If Nickolodeon came up with a show about a creepy old man who dressed up like the crayola military and creeped around neighborhoods talking to invisble cartoon animals and looking for little unattended to children to bond with, do you think it would go over as well as Captain Kangaroo originally did?
• Do you think the whole Trix Is For Kids dilemma could be solved if the rabbit was arrested for felony theft and tried as an adult?
• Do you think the Smurfs sexually transmitted diseases are half as interesting as their everyday sickness? I mean, when a smurf comes down with something it usually involves spots or extra appendages. I wander what the clinical symptoms are for Smurf Gonnorhea?
• According to the radio commercial, literally hundreds of women are going to be proposed to this Valentine's Day. If I'm not one of them I'm never going to speak to my husband again.
• It was once said that the best trick the devil ever played was convincing mankind he didn't exist. Doesn't this apply to sharks as well? Isn't the best trick they ever played was convincing mankind that sharks aren't actually out eat people? And taking these things into consideration, isn't mankind about the most gullible stupid creature currently taking up space? I mean if a shark went up to a seal and tried to convince it that he wasn't out to eat him but instead accidentally took a little nibble for exploratory purposes............ do you really think the seal would fall for that?

It was about this time that the nurse came in to take me to recovery and asked why I was drooling. Recovery was fascinating. I rocked and fed Dex while they tracked his vitals and I got to watch them try to calm and care for screaming toddlers coming out of anesthesia. What a fascinating job! They squashed these kids, poked them, rolled them about, hollered in their ears, and put masks on their faces when they got loud and annoying! And the government wasn't called! It looks like pediatric surgical recovery units are the last pocket of independant resistance in the US where social services can't reach! WoOt! Actually, their job looked horribly trying and the only humor there was that a bunch of the nurses got paged for an adult person that "coded" (I have no idea what coding is and I suspect it's probably not humorous actually) and they couldn't get the door open. I hope "coding" doesn't mean died like it does in the TV shows because if that's the case that person didn't have a chance. Their medical personell was being held captive. Yikes.

We're obviously home safe and sound. Dexter is happy as clam, and I wonder if it's because the pressure built up from the infection is gone or because of the laughing gas........ I don't really know, but it's a nice change from the past few days; he's been a holy terror and by holy I mean "holy crap that kid is demanding".

His eye is bleeding a bit, but all looks well. I'll keep everyone updated and thanks for the kind messages, emails, etc. Much appreciated! :)

Surgery Scheduled For Dexter

Holy cow what a day. I don't even know how to describe it. Or why anyone would care if I did, but I'm going to anyway because I happen to own this blog and possession is 9/10s of the law. Just ask druggies. Anyway............

The bassinet has been complaining loudly everytime we put Dex in it so I spent yesterday prepping Lang's room to become "The Boys" room instead. Lang did not like this; he cursed. So last night Dexter spent his first night in his real bed. I can't say I liked it much. I've grown rather accustomed to his snort-oink-wonk wonk-snort snort-oinkety oink oink through the night. He woke up at 5AM, had a few ounces and went back to sleep, thus I did also. I really figured he'd wake up again in no more than 20 minutes after being laid down. This is his signature screw with mother in the morning move - make her think she is going to get more sleep and right as she drifts off begin grunting and squallering. This did not happen. He actually slept until after 9:15AM. This is wonderful except it put us waaaaay behind in our schedule (very bad for homeschoolers in the second part of the school year) and it just so happened that today of all days he had a doctor's appointment at 10. So we started off running late.

We somehow manage to make it there on time. It required me forfeiting my shower and any attempt at hygiene. He got weighed. No wonder the bassinet complained. He is supposed to have doubled his birthweight by 5 months but instead has tripled it by 4 months. She thus gave me permission to start him on solid foods because at the rate he is going through formula I was going to have to steal someone's identity and set up a credit account directly with Enfamil. He got his 4 shots also. Never pleasant although he is so fat it took him 2 shots to figure out that someone was sticking his chub rolls with something and get angry.

The bigger point here is that the pediatrician referred us on to a specialist for his eye problem. We've done every kind of anti-biotic under the sun, massage, herbal compresses, etc. NOTHING was clearing out the tear duct and the infection was so severe now that the discharge was neon green and smelled putrid. I'm telling you that because I don't have any friends that would pretend that such a thing is interesting. It was nasty enough that we surpassed the 3 week wait period to be seen and were informed that we had to be there by 1PM. Mind you I had never even heard of this hospital or this doctor or even that part of town for that matter. So much for going home and getting a shower.............

So I load the van up with all 25.6 of my kids and with mapquest directions in hand we head off to find the doctor. We had only 20 minutes to do so. Didn't look so good and began to look even less likely to happen as I ended up somewhere underneath the Arch downtown and a call to the doctor's office revealed that they were nowhere near the arch. We got there an hour late. Luckily they decided to go ahead and see us because it is very hard to turn away a very fat baby with an eye that is smelly and stuck shut. Lucky us, right?

The doctor immediately recognized that Dex needed surgery to open up the tear duct and flush the infection out and we worked through the process of scheduling said surgery. He wanted it done tomorrow so it took most of the afternoon, with all the kids in tow, wandering around a strange hospital with a gucky baby making arrangements. All without having attempted any personal hygiene for the day.

We get home, and Dex's shots are hitting him about then. And the crying began. If you can imagine a screaming baby with a clogged up eye then you can imagine my evening. And it lasted for freaking ever. And the kids tried to help but they are just kids. And I don't have a husband. I have a live in Scientist who doesn't come home. And I'm tired. And a little angry. And certainly rather long winded this evening. The right and proper thing to do would be to call the family, and for the grandparents, etc. that rightly deserve a call I do apologize. I am just so exhausted I haven't the heart to dial the phone. Or attempt any personal hygiene.

Anyway, I have to have Chubbilicious there by 6AM and he goes into the operating room about 7. Keep us in your thoughts and I'll post an update tomorrow.

Chance Of Sprinkles. Cake Is A Given.

Am I the only one is infinitely amused when meteorologists actually forecast "SPRINKLES"? I ask you, in all seriousness if this word should be allowed to be uttered by meteorologists with a straight face. Meteorologists are after all the considered the last of the truly independent scientists; which is in and of itself ridiculous. No more so, however, than to forecast "SPRINKLES".

Today's Forecast: Sprinkles with a chance of chocolate chips late in the afternoon. Our area is under an all purpose flour warning until 11Pm. Tune your TV to the Food Network for additional serious weather alerts.

Sprinkles. =snort snort= Sprinkles indeed................ Oh, geez I have to go to bed. I think I lost at least 12 brain cells writing this and you lost 9 reading it. That's a lot; for both us.

Notes On Onions.

I've been thinking and here's what I've come to conclude: Cocktail onions are really nothing at all like pearl onions contrary to popular belief; at least not in stew.

Writing On The Wall. Not By God Though.

So I bought an overhead projector the other day. Thanks to ebay I snagged it brand new in box for an amazing price too.

We've been waiting to get one of these forever as many of our homeschool resource books come packed full of handy dandy transparencies. Now I can actually use those transparencies and impress the children with my technological prowess in somewhat outdated technology (laptop projectors are the new thing, you know, overhead projectors are going the way of the VCR).

Worth noting also, that with this purchase I have enabled myself to "write" all over my own walls and not have it taken out of my deposit. This alone makes this purchase awesome; and by awesome I mean totally sweet.

The Circle Of Strife

Ah, well, win some, lose some. I never could play nice with anyone online and managed to take a long walk off a short cliff today with my pregnancy board. Such things happen. Thanks for all the emails and private messages I recieved over the situation. I appreciate the support, girls. Kind of a bittersweet moment, eh? It's a-ight, though. I now have time to learn the great art of origami.

I'm off to put on my ninja gear, get super pissed off and attempt to shove a frisbee in my mouth. If I manage to do it, I think everyone is supposed to say "Holy Crap!" and be really impressed.

It's A Home & Garden Moment

Hey people! I'm going to take a few days a get a new design up. It may look a bit spastic for a bit so fair warning. I am also pulling down the archives so that I can get things cleaned up in regards to our personal information. A rather untoward element of my past has surfaced again, online this time, and so I need clean up a bit. Not a big deal though; I shouldn't have been so open and forward to begin with.

We're back to code names with the kiddos (you'll recognize them from past blogs and if not you'll be able to quickly figure out who is who if you know us) and obviously my "dear husband" will resort back to merely DH. I'll still be Becca though, so no worries. I mean, really.... how many Beccas are there anyway? Thousands? Millions? At least 3, I'm sure of it.

All pictures are moving to our family's private website and I'll pass along the way to get in shortly. Don't worry. I'm speaking in "blog-ese"; Dingledork can't find his rear with both hands and a map so I figure I've got some wiggle room on getting everything adjusted before he has the idea to Google something Becca-ey and possibly locate this place. :P

The Joys Of Motherhood & Other Late Night Horror Films

The great thing about a digital Christmas letter is that you can go back and strike through things at will. I plan to do this later today with much gusto beginning with the part about how Dexter is probably not defective. I spent a large amount of money on a rather odd prescription today because he has taken to puking for fun and profit. I am also waiting on a call so I can spend another lump sum on additional medication because his eye has turned into a rotting cess pool and our pediatrician won't schedule the required surgery until she knows it is "absolutely necessary". Absolutely necessary. MDs are in general fruitcakes. Absolutely necessary my behind. I'll show her absolutely necessary. I'm going to to go rub his eye up and down the shoulder of her designer suits and ask her if wiping it off is "absolutely necessary" as I have been wearing that eye nastiness since he was 2 wks old.

Furthermore, I am also striking the sleep through the night bit. Dexter is no longer sleeping through the night (note the time of this post). He has again returned to getting up for a little sippy sip at about 3:30AM. I swear it is enough to drive me absolutely insane. If there was ever a child that could cause a mother of many to cuss it is this boy. And don't give me any of that hapless infant crap. He is not hapless; he is a bottomless pit. There is a notable difference.

Now, half of the women reading this are looking appalled and are preparing a speech about how there are hungry children in Africa (I have no idea why you all are doing this by the way. I'm griping about a child not my dinner and I don't necessarily plan to eat him unless worse comes to worse). The other half are holding up cue cards that say "Let Him Cry It Out". They are holding up signs because you are not allowed to admit to this anymore in modern America because the foster system needs to be fed consistently in order to fail as effectively as it does.

The reality is that I have no problem with letting him cry it out because Dexter is not expressing a need, but is expressing a habit. I know this boy inside and out, and he no more wants that bottle than the man in the moon needs a silk kimono. He feels entitled to that ridiculous 2oz. I, however, cannot let the little moose cry it out because we live in an apartment and it bothers the neighbors. Frankly the neighbors could go take a flying leap, but the last thing we need is a complaint filed about how loud our offspring is. Such a thing never bodes well for renewing one's lease.

So here I am at 4 something in the morning. Absolutely nothing good can come from me being up at this time of day. Michael says my language becomes excessively colorful when I don't get enough sleep and I also end up eating peanut butter & jelly sandwiches in a subconscious attempt to gain enough weight that a crane will be needed to lift me out of bed. You are absolutely not allowed to operate heavy machinery in an apartment building at 4 in the morning so someone else could get up with our wonking cherub.

During the Christmas season I would spend such late nights sending Christmas carols to the ACLU via email but alas the holiday season is over and I have enough class not to harass people outside of the time of year set aside for peace, joy and the likes. So I am instead sending multiple emails to QVC letting them know how horrific their late night people are. They couldn't sell a sandwich to that guy in the movie Seven who was starved to death over a period of a year. I am later planning to email somebody and tell them what an absolute beast Rosie O'Donnell is. I don't know who yet, though. Luckily I owe a great many emails, replies on message boards, myspace requests, etc. so any one of you could become the victim of my random Rosie observation. In other words please, please be patient with me if I owe you some sort of digital correspondence. I hope to get that taken care of today while I redecorate the blog. I am also going to roam the city in search of an establishment that sells fountain drinks as big as my head. Just so you know.

Rumor has it, by the way, that if you go to the hospital and claim a little bird told you that Thomas Jefferson dressed in drag and you know this because Bill & Ted left their phone booth on the third star to the right they will put you in an absolutely darling padded room with chemical sedation, 3 square meals and required naps. This is my fall back plan. So if you hear anything about me and lithium you don't have to worry. I am not crazy perse. Just well insured.

Christmas Letter 2006

The point, one supposes, of such a ltter is to update the general public about the sizes and stages of one's family. Especially when the family in question is ours, which seems to continually be increasing in number.

Michael finished his PhD this year. He is finally "Dr." and I must admit that thus far the only real advantage I've seen to this is that I get to hang up on telemarketers who don't ask for him by proper title on the second try. For example....... Telemarketer: Is Michael there? Becca: Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps I could locate the individual in question if you could address him properly? Telemarketer: Is MR Michael there? Becca: Wrong answer. Thank you for playing. This may seem rather obnoxious but I say if we invested 10 years of our marriage into that dang title somebody had better use it. And telemarketers are the only people who call us that wouldn't smack us upside the head or write us out of the will if we demand such a thing.

I (Becca, of course) managed to get pregnant against all established rules of nature early in the year. So, for anyone that wants to make the joke about knowing what causes such a thing, I challenge you that perhaps it is not as straightforward as originally suspected. I say that there is a possibility that we don't know what causes such a thing and thus I am abstaining from recreational painting, value meals at fast food establishments and poetry in general. Anyway, I delivered by incision our 5th child (second son) on September 19. I had polyhydramnios throughout the pregnancy, and he was delivered by emergency c-section because he decided to go into fetus hibernation. I valiantly attempted to bleed to death post delivery but was thwarted by medical personel who seemed to lack the true vision for what makes a good biography special on A&E.

And the kids? Well, they are just absolutely spectacular. You know, a christmas letter is the only correspondence in which a person is allowed to refer to their offspring as "fabulous" or "spectacular" and not be socially shunned; however "fantabulous" is yet to be accepted. Anyway, Summer has managed to get another year closer to teenagerdom (she's 11) and, as always, excels in her studies and her art projects. Lily turned 9 and has continued to fail as a vegetarian although I credit her for the dedication she displays to someday achieving her goal. Mackenzie turned 7 and continues to climb doorways and hallways. On the bright side, we did not have to call the fire department even one time this year to get her down from somewhere stupid. Langdon mastered potty training (finally, oh, and did I say, finally) and is doted upon and spoiled by his older sisters to the point of doing actual detriment to his development. We're going to have to crack down on that this year. Dexter (our latest addition) is finally sleeping through the night, and has kept us busy going from doctor to doctor through the latter part of the year. One for his weight (he's a big 'ol boy), one for his voicebox (he has laryngomalacia - a deformed voicebox) and one for his goopy eye (clogged tear duct, you see). I'm sure the boy isn't completely defective and look toward the upcoming year to prove it.

As a whole, it's been a pretty exciting year for our family. We began homeschooling and have been extremely blessed and changed by this experience. We relocated several states away, and this included living in our first top story apartment (it's like living in a treehouse, but anyway...), found out that we will be relocating again this year to the East coast, and added another child to the group which I think knocks us into the "gaggle of children" category. We also had the opportunity to spend our Christmas vacation with both sides of our family, and come home without having permanently damaged any familial relationships or set anything/anyone ablaze. Life is good. ;D

Hope this finds you all well and happy as the new year begins unfolding. Check here for updates as we move toward the next relocation, and drop me a note somewhere on here if you need/would like our email, etc. Wishing you all the best in 2007 from our family to yours!

Go Practice Falling Down While I Decompartmentalize.

Again, I apologize for the lack of updates. Our spring/summer semester is in gear and I am behind on getting my lesson plans intact. During the pregnancy/postpartum period I had opted to go with a set curriculum, but now that I'm back on my feet, so to speak, it is a return to our actual style of educating - decompartmentalization.

I am currently setting up our first grouping of studies that focus on the descent of man and modern society from ancient civilizations. We are focusing on Ur, Jerusalem, and Babylon. Attempting to get this information spread across our core studies and adapted to the needs of 4 different grades is time consuming but so worth it. If you think it sounds dreary, I highly recommend a trip to the library to find a book on Babylon at least. It's truly amazing.

I'm also trying to get ahead by planning our next grouping of studies at the same time which will tie in civilizations and geology with an emphasis on volcanoes and change. I myself find geology to be mind numbingly dull thus I added in volcanoes so I could A) teach about Pompeii which is a fascination of mine and B) have a justifiable excuse to explode things. This is why our neighbor's hate us. We are always looking for new and exciting ways to blow things apart. Thus is the life of the homeschooler.......... ;D

I will be back online in full force today or tomorrow. Hopefully I'll have something noteworthy to say but I wouldn't go practicing falling down just yet.

I Have Not Died. Stop Trying To Claim My Car.

I am just working on getting us all back and settled in. We left here on Dec. 22 and didn't arrive back until Jan 3. That's a HUGE trip for a family our size, and it included getting snowed into that Western Kansas mess.

I apologize to everyone who got our Christmas cards and came here looking for our family's obnoxious Christmas letter..... We rushed out of town and I completely forgot to post the letter but not to mail the Christmas cards. Oi. I will put it up today or tomorrow though because I can. I know it's perversely late but you all know me. I haven't managed to do anything right since 1980 when I mastered potty training. Even that's a struggle somedays. ;D