An actual post about Homeschooling

A IRL friend is taking a poll on which science and history programs different homeschooling moms use. I guess spring is in the air and everyone's mind is on the same thing....what should I use next year.

Here's what I am doing:
I am, at best, an eclectic, neo-classical homeschooler. I like chronological history but I see the need for a "social studies" program. Why? Because at 9 years old, my son had never heard about Martin Luther King Jr and his work for Civil Rights. (BTW, he couldn't get his head around discriminating against someone due to the color of their skin. It sounded like one of those stupid "old" ideas like burning whale oil for light.)

So here's what we'll be using:
Story of the World and Kingfisher History encyclopedia for the chronological history. We actually do more of a notebooking kind of study using the timeline and notebook sheets from Hold that Thought.
These are beautiful time line figures and the maps on the history CD's are very nice. I use these instead of the SOTW activity guide.
(If any IRL folks would like to see these, just give me a holler.) Then I supplement about 30 minutes a week with a school Social studies book. We just go over it and it usually sticks. We aren't talking complex information here but it is stuff that isn't in "history." I got the textbooks at Insights for a dollar each. Don't spend more for school books. LOL

For science, I actually use another School text as a guide. Addison Wesley called "Destinations in Science." I am not a textbook science person, but these are really great books. They were probably rejected for inferior texts, which is quite sad. We add to it like crazy but there is a good bit of stuff packed into these little gems. I also own Singapore Science. Another good science book. But it has a few unusual foods and plants in it. (Singapore children eat a lot of rice and don't have the same fruits and veggies that we do.) the bones of it are sound though and it does promote scientific thinking. It is not grammar stage science though.
More later....we have to head out to speech.

YAH!!!!!!! She made it!

Dy has finally arrived in the new home state. I'm giving her a special shout out because moving that far with 3 kids is a big deal in my book. She did it so gracefully too. I'd be bundle of nerves and a ticking time bomb. Sorry to 'dis' you girl but I'm glad it wasn't me. I wouldn't mind disappearing for a week and having my whole house painted and thoroughly cleaned. But I could not, would not pack up and move. (I seem to have a Dr.Suess thing going on these days.)

While I'm doing that I need to say that *if* we *did* move anytime soon...I hope darling ZooDad could be as cooperative and entertaining as PuppDaddy has been. I don't think he'd come close. I'd also want to bring Alaska along to paint for me. In fact...Forget the move. I cordially invite y'all to come on down to the sunny South and bring all the puppies. They'd mix quite well with the Zoobys and the Family Y will open the new waterslide/pool complex soon.

So there it is. A big "WOW..HOW CAN YOU DO ALL THAT" for the moving homeschooling families that I know.
I stand in awe of your determination.

Left foot, left foot, left foot, right...

Feet in the morning.
Feet at night.

Yep, it's Focus on the Feet here at the zoo.
I went to the physical therapist on Friday. She says I have a grade 2 or 3 "Syndesmotic Sprain." commonly called a high ankle sprain.

Grade 2 means that I have partially torn the two affected ligaments. Grade 3 is tearing them all the way through. We aren't sure which since the swelling is still pretty bad. I've also pulled a couple of tendons and just pretty much busted everything up.
Currently, I have about 4 degrees of motion in any direction.

No half-baked ankle sprain for me. No sir-ree. I gotta go all out.

My insurance pays for 20 physical therapy sessions. The therapist says that "by then" I should be able to do the exercises by myself until I fully heal.

Hellooooooo???????

20 visits is 5 months right. I planed to be fully healed within a month.
I'm being a good girl. I wearing the wrap and ankle brace. I'm using the crutch most of the time. I'm staying off as much as *I* have time too. I'm also doing that cold water plunge thing that is oh-so-enjoyable and doing all my little foot exercises.

Why am I doing all these torturous things? Because I do not have 5 months to sit around and baby this silly foot. I do need to be healthy to walk by September when we go to Disney World. And it would be nice to be able to enjoy the mountains when we go in June. So I will jump through all the appropriate hoops and get my money's worth on the PT.

On a positive note: Today, I wore two shoes for the first time in 11 days. Granted they were flip-flops but both feet were covered and that's all that matters. M was a bit freaked out by my purple bruised toes.

Watch those ankles! It turns out that they are quite useful afterall.

Bad sounds in the Zoo

Since I'm not that mobile anymore, I've taken to "listening" for trouble.

This is what trouble sounds like in our house.


"Honey, I'm home from the grocery store. Did you give me a list?"


"ha, ha, ha, ha." Sound of running feet "ha, ha, haha." thunk


Sounds of laughter and jumping in the upstairs room...thunk....Silence.


"Um...Mom? Can you come here a second?"


Sounds of jumping in the family room....thunk....."oooooooooh"


"hee, hee, hee, hee, snicker, snicker" coming from any bathroom.


"Um....Mom? The toilet water just keeps going up."


Some boy:"Mooooooooommmmmmm" in a tattle tale tone. Some other boy who can talk: "Shhhhhh....Mom is resting."


Um...Mom? Would you like something to drink?"


CRASH Me: "What was that?" Some boy that can talk: "Ummmmmmm....nothing?"


And my all time favorite:
"ow, ow, ow, ow" said by one child with all the others following him until they realize that they are now in the same room I am in. Me: "What is going on?" All children involved looked at each other and then reply, "ummmmm.....nothing?"


Oh yes, trouble...I can smell it. I just chose not to deal with it.
It's been a week and so far, no one is dead or seriously hurt.

More foot news

I saw my doctor and an orthopedic on Friday. So far it is a really bad sprain. I sprained both the upper and lower ligaments. So not only does my ankle hurt like nobody's business but the top of my foot feels like some one is slicing it with a steak knife.
The swelling is subsiding but the bruising is going full force. Nasty would be the best description. I would take a picture but it makes me nauseous to look at it.
I've also learned that I am never going to win a crutch race. Just making it across the parking lot is a wondrous feat.
sigh

I start Physical therapy on Thursday. Then I follow up with the orthopedic the next Friday.

All my plans just screeching to a halt.

And it hurts too.
Gripe, moan, gripe, moan, gripe, moan.
;)

What I lack in grace, I make up with sheer determination

I am not a graceful person. Seriously, I have trouble walking and talking at the same time. It doesn't take me to send me careening onto the ground.
Tuesday, I took a little tumble. I was attempting to put a small Radio Flyer wagon in my van so M and I could go to t-ball practice.
I step oddly and my foot turned under.
Down I went.

Man, it hurt. I didn't pass out (The ER doc asked me that.) but I did see stars. In the moment afterwards, all I could think was "shoe off, shoe off."
When I got my shoe off, it was not pretty.

My MIL was staying with us since this is Standardized testing week and I am my support group's test coordinator. She ran out to help me as I lay there writhing in pain in the very center of our driveway.

I hobbled inside and then decided that I needed to got he ER. My sweet sister came to get me and practically carried me to her SUV. I made quite a spectacle. Enough that two of my neighbors came out to help.

Serious pain.

It's not broken. I think it would be better if it was. I go to my regular doctor tomorrow after the swelling goes down a little. (It hasn't gone down at all.)

Currently, I'm wearing a brace and using crutches.

I won't even begin to tell you how much fun it is to take care of 4 kids while you are crutches. Big time fun...woohoo!

Yesterday was very hard for me. It was the last day of testing. After testing I was supposed to put all the tables and chairs back, take down and pack all the partitions, and load all the snacks and supplies I had brought.

I couldn't do any of that. I couldn't even patrol the halls to make sure everyone was ok.

I just sat in the break room and waited for news. Then everyone else did all my work for me while I drew diagrams and tried to explain how to "put things back."

It was so hard for me.

I'm a "I'll do that" kind of person. I enjoy being Super Woman. I'm proud of it even. I am ferociously independent and a type A personality. I can't stand being waited on.Sitting around while stuff is happening is torture.

But it was so amazing that all these families (34 in all) happily did any thing that I needed them too. It all got done.
When I got home, I felt so humbled and so grateful and privileged that I know these people. I am so thankful for their gracious help.

Maybe I don't have to be Superwoman all the time.

But if I could fly, I wouldn't have to use these stupid crutches. That would be a lot easier.

Update: keys found

I'm talking about my second spare keys. My orginal spare keys have been gone for months and my real keys are still missing. But I did find my back-up spare keys. So now I don't have to use the valet key and sneak in the unlocked back door.

hee...hee...hee

Sad, sad, pitiful woman.

Donna's Friday Five

I always forget to check Donna's blog on Friday. I usually remember late Saturday night and then I feel like the late loser piping in. Well...it's still Friday so I can honestly do this one.

Friday Five Freak out!
1. When was the last time you had butterflies over something you were about to do?

Hmmm...Last Thursday I was a bit nervous when I had to do a "nature" lesson for a group of Scout Leaders. But outright butterflies...I would have to say May 2003.

2. What was it?

I was 31 weeks pregnant and had to have a cerclage done to stay pregnant. I was terrified. I have an irrational fear of surgery. I mean beyond the noraml fear of surgery because who isn't afraid of having someone cut on you. But I was willing to do anything necessary to carry that baby to term.

3. Have you ever tried out for a game show?

Nope, I am hopelessly slow with the buzzer thingies. Patheticly slow. We had a Academic team in high school and I was rejected due to my abysmally slow reaction time.

4. Jeopardy or Wheel. of. Fortune?

Jeopardy if someone else is doing the buzzer for me.

5. What are you doing today?

Housework. Wow....that's some interesting stuff. Oh...and baseball pictures. Plus I am once again searching for my car keys. I'm down to using the valet key. Apparently I am just as bad at keeping keys as I am at ringing the buzzer thingy.

So what is that mom?

It's my blog. It's where I write about all the stuff that we do and about you and your brothers.

Do you write about how great we are?

Yep...I sure do. I have a bunch of wonderful boys.

You sure do. Aren't you lucky?

Lucky doesn't even begin to describe it.

The Plane! The Plane!

Nope, it's not a re-enactment of a Fantasy Island episode. It's my afternoon lunch time drive.

This morning the boys had a dental check up. All is well in the mouths of the Zoobys. However, we did have to have a slight skirmish with the insurance company when they announced that we didn't have dental insurance. WHAT!!!! Them's fightin' words "Gus!" We most certainly do.
After getting that situated, we headed down the main business road to grab some lunch before heading to the hospital for speech and OT.
Traffic was heavy, which is normal for that road and time of day. I pulled off(along with everybody else) to let an ambulance and a rescue/fire truck got by. I didn't think much of it. Then I arrived at a traffic light that was not working. Hmmmmmm....why is the light out.

Then I arrived at another non-working light just as a police officer was driving up on the curb so he could hop out and start directing. At that point, traffic was bad. Still not too much off normal though. When I saw the flashing lights in the suicide lane, I knew there had been a wreck. I didn't see any lanes merging so I started my mumbling rant about rubberneckers. I hate rubberneckers.

Apparently thought there was something to rubberneck at. Even I had to take a second look a the Cessna plane that was sitting in the K-mart parking lot. Apparently, the pilot made an emergency landing on that busy road and clipped a couple of power lines on his way down.

Wow!

Thankfully, no one was hurt and power was restored in an hour or so.

Wild stuff.

Dog tired

I have been running around like a mad woman all day.

I got up at 6 am to do some much needed housework. ZooDad is in Germany once again and the housework tends to get put off when I'm single parenting.

The we all go up, dressed, ate some breakfast and headed down to my wetlands interpretive park (our lot backs up to the wetlands park area) for the Earth Day celebration.

First there was a butterfly release for the ribbon cutting. Each preson was given a little triangle envelope with a painted lady butterfly inside. It was cool.

Here's M waiting to release his butterfly. This part took a while since all the bureaucrats all had to say something about our cool new park.

Then the boys got a chance to see all the critters from the ecology lab.


And I got to see my favorite ultra-cute herp nerd and his alligator.



That's me and two of the Zoobys. I'm holding a rat snake from the ecology lab. The little one with no fear is not even two yet. He kept looking at the snakes and yelling "Nake! Nake! Me 'old 'em. Me 'oooooooooooold 'em"

sooooooooooooo.........

he got to hold it. His daddy is going to freak out.


Here's the oldest Zooby with the same snake. Notice the little one with his hands outstetched begging to hold the "nake" again.

Then it was a whirlwind day. Back home for lunch. Back to the park for scouts where a local botanist took the pack on a trek through the wetlands boardwalk. After that we headed over to the church for the scout "God and Me" program. Then....I spent an hour coaching M's t-ball team.

I picked up pizza for dinner and the freshy bathed Zoobys are watching the Incredibles while I veg for a bit.

It was a fun day. But man...i am dog tired.

It was a miracle!

My darling ZooDad is less than handy around the house. He is more than capable in things computer related. In fact he is the Greek God of Computer stuff. However, he is no Ty Pennington. He's not even a Bob Villa.
But he does try. Last weekend, he finished the handrails on the deck steps. This is the deck that fell off the house in October of 2003. (Yes, 2003!) ZooDad replaced the deck in July of 2004. He's just now finished the handrails down the steps. Don't ask me when the cap rail will be done.

Not that I can talk. I still have to finish painting the kitchen. I started last October.

Time Flies.

A little more background so you understand the conversation. A couple of months ago, I lost my car keys and I had to call a locksmith to open the van....to see if I had locked them in there. I'm scatterbrained...I admit it. I hadn't and not only do I still not have my regular keys...the locksmith broke my window mechanism thingy and my passenger window wouldn't roll down.
This annoyed ZooDad terribly since that was 'his" window.

Saturday we had the following conversation.

ZooDad rolls down his window.

me: Hey, how'd my window get fixed?

him: I fixed it.

I stare at him. This is a highly doubtful statement.

me: No you didn't.

him: Yes I did.

me: When?

him: A couple of weeks ago

me: And you never even mentioned it.

him: No, I don't mention every little thing.

me: You'd mention fixing the window if you fixed it. You mention fixing the toilet at least one a week. (remember the toilet handle incident...he brings it up.) You did NOT fix my window.

him: Well then, how did it get fixed.

me: Must have been a miracle.

him: Don't you think God has other things to do than fix parts of your van. If he was in the van fixing line of work, why didn't he heal your transmission?

me: So, how did you get to the window if you fixed it?

him: I removed these things and took out he screws.

me: Without scratching anything? And where'd you get the part?

him: There wasn't a part. it was a cable.

me: You did not fix my window!

him: You'd rather believe the window spontaneously fixed itself than think that *I* fixed it?

me: I know what you did when you fixed your Ford seat. (It was a freaking mess. Car dudes would be horrified by the sheer carnage.) I don't see any evidence of your handiwork.

him: I am insulted.

me: I was on a really bumpy road at the Scout camp ground. Maybe that shook things back into place.

him: I am really insulted.

me: Sorry...but you did NOT fix my window. It was a miracle.

him: Well, you'll just never know for sure will you?


A window fixing miracle. Now what we need it the garage fairy to come and clean out all that mess.

Wow! I'm still awesome!

Today was interesting for me....as a former public school teacher.
After a busy morning of homeshooling my brood, the mail arrived. In it was my letter of recommendation and application to be listed in the Who's Who of American Teachers.

Hmmmm....

I haven't taught public school since 1996. I've moved twice since I last taught school so none of my former students or colleagues would know my current address.

But according to the folks who know this sort of thing....I'm "Who's who."

I am tempted to fill our the form and have my homeschool name listed. That would be funny.

It sure makes me rethink that "Who's who of American high School Students" award too.

Crack that whip!

Well, it appears that Sheila, Zoo keeper, and supermom extraordinaire, is a slave master.
It seems by posted schedules that I am working my little Zoo boys down to the bone.

believe it or not, we've been pretty much doing pretty much everything scheduled in the WTM.

Yep, J, my little 3rd grader (and his 1st grade brother), has math every day. Twice a week we supplement with algebra and geometry.
He does two pages of Easy Grammar every day while his M does phonics with SSRW or HOP along with FLL.
They have handwriting with HWT three times a week.
J has dictation, twice a week and spelling every day. He also has assigned daily reading for comprehension along with his daily hour of required reading each day. (J has no problem with this. He read a whole Lemony Snicket book yesterday.)

Geography is done twice a week and so is vocabulary. (Wordly Wise) Logic and writing (Writing Strands) are done three times a week. SOTW and Science are both "done" twice a week. But we discuss these things daily. My oldest sons love history and their mommy is a former science teacher who doesn't every stop teaching science.
I guess I can be excused from Latin. We tend to do a lesson every 2 weeks or so.

Then add in A's work for preschool and speech. He and M sit in for Five in a Row lessons together. And A sits in on Baby S' B4FIAR books.
And we have three sessions of speech, two sessions of OT, scouts, PE, Art and crafts, and just general play time.

I'm at a point now where I thing the boys would get a vacation if they went to school. They aren't complaining though. They enjoy learning and even enjoy doing workbooks.

But sometimes I wonder if I push them too much. Sometimes I have to step back and remind myself that education is not a race but a journey.

But...

If they like it....is it ok to race anyway?

I'm walking on sunshine....or at least trying to

This is day three of my "shake that funk" project. Saturday, day one, there was much shopping. I drove up to the next little town, away from all the visiting golfers, and went to my favorite teacher supply store. There wasn't much I wanted. That makes me happy. I must be more satisfied with my curriculum choices than I realised. Then it was off to my hoity-toity plant shop to pick up some plants. They were all out of Spirea ( I want two for the back yard.) but I did manage to get hostas and gardenias. Then off to Home Depot to get all the stuff ZooDad needed.
Further toilet repairs included replaced the boys' toilet seat with one that removes for cleaning. It snaps off. That is a brilliant idea. Kudos to the mom of multiple boys who must have thought that one up.
Then Zoodad had to repair the mission style couch. The thing just flat out broke. Friday night, Zoodad was attempting to rest on it while the monkey boys were climbing over the ladderback and jumping on him. Then there was a crack. They broke my couch.

Thankfully it was repaired with several very long screws and new drill bit.
Since he had been so successful with the couch repairs, Zoodad then decided to go ahead and finish the handrails for the deck. I supervised and assisted where needed. I now have a 99% completed deck. We still need cap rails, but at least now, the boys won't fall off the side of the steps.

While we worked on the deck, the boys did some moving for me. They moved the leftover firewood from the front porch back to the firewood stack. They moved all my plant purchases from the front to the correct plant beds. Moved 6 bags of top soil and 8 bales of pinestraw. I was so impressed. They were so proud of themselves too. They'd load up the Red Flyer wagon and pull it around then unload it. The two oldest worked together to lift the bags of topsoil. I didn't even know they could lift that much. Boy labor is a good thing.

As a reward for all their hard work yesterday, today we are putting out the top soil and planting their flower garden. They have chosen sunflowers, zinnieas, and cleomes. J wants me to pick up some tiger lilies to add to the bunch. (By the way, clomes get really tall and when not blooming, look an awful like a certain prohibitive weed.)

Oh, I have to add this.
Wednesday we had a marathon of doctor and therapists visits so we had McDonald's for lunch. (The children's hospital has one in the lobby.) the boys and I played "I Spy" with the abstract paintings that decorate the eating area. At one particular painting we said things like, "If you turn your head, there's a light house. If you turn your head, there's a man playing the guitar. If you turn you head, there's a sunset on a beach." The J finally said, "Hey Mom, that's not an abstract. That's an impressionist. They hung it sideways." We all looked, head cocked sideways and had to agree with him. It was a picture of a man with a guitar on a beach with a lighthouse and the sun setting on the water behind him.....sideways.

Or course we all broke out laughing when we noticed other people with their head cocked sideways trying to figure out what we were looking at.

I'm a broken record, but at least I'm predictable

The pontiff was buried today. For me, His death has been a flashback to September. I had to turn off the news when the press was busy describing exactly what the Pope was doing as he was dying. It was too easy to go back to the night when my Dad died. I could easily envision the scene described.
The coverage this week was also painful. It didn't help matters that Pope John Paul II looked an awful lot like my own little Elf Dad. So much so that J chimed in, " He looks like Granddaddy. Who is that?"
It reopened the wounds that were just beginning to scab over and I've spent the last few days tired and moody. I'm going to have to seek professional help if I can't shake this funk soon. I want to avoid that if possible. Pills seem to be the number one fix-it miracle these days and I don't do well with any form of medication. I rarely even take Tylenol.

The rain isn't helping things. Three days of cloudy skies and rain off an on.
Tomorrow, I plan to go the garden center. I'm on a quest to signs of new life. Zoodad, being the supportive wonderman he is, actually suggested it. That's brave of him, since he's the one who has to dig all the holes. ;)

Peace in the Valley, sung by Johnny Cash and also Elvis. Very good song. You can hear Elvis's faith in the lyrics but JC's world weary voice really made this song for me.

On Death and Dying

This is all I'm going to say about the case in Florida. And I say this as a person who has lost all her grandparents, her father-in-law, and her father in ways that could never be compared to "dignified" deaths.

Let's just pretend for a moment that I, as a reasonably healthy and sane adult, decided to starve myself to death. I made this decision, informed dear ZooDad of it and had his support. If my state powers-that-be found out, they would involuntarily commit me and force me to eat.

AND...if I somehow managed to starve myself to death without the state finding out, the state would press charges against my husband for assisted manslaughter.

Now, if for some reason my darling ZooDad decided to starve me to death and I was not in a state where I could prevent this from happening (either mentally or physically), he would be charged with murder.

Interesting.


BTW, I know some will say...but it's different in cases of terminal illness.
Nope, it isn't.

The kid knows what he wants

Baby S is sick. Well at least he was. He's 20 months old and this morning he woke up with much coughing, gagging, and retching at about 5 am. He seems to have some allergy problems.
After throwing up all over the crib, he decided he (and by default, me) was up for the day. So for the next 3 hours I chased him around with a towel, a can of Lysol, and a Bissell spot cleaner. At 8 am, he decided to take a nap and slept until noon.
When I went to get him out of bed he seemed remarkable improved and he had his shoes on...and a diaper. When I put him to bed, he had pajamas, a diaper, and no shoes.

The boy loves his shoes. He can put them on by himself. He wears them all day long with socks or without. The only time you can get the shoes off of him is when it is bath time or bed time. If you bathe him too early, he'll put his shoes back on. I guess he's a Fly-kid. Shoes and diapers are the only essential items of clothing....the diaper is negotiable. When I take his shoes off, I usually place them on the dresser near his bed. I might have to break that habit since the kid can reach the shoes and put them back on.

After a late lunch of home-made pizza, (I know...it's not the BRAT diet...but the little guy seems to be fine.) the older boys headed outside to play. S decided he was going too. However, he was having a shoe problem and he didn't know how to fix it.
After a quick inspection, I discovered that he was wearing two LEFT shoes. They were the same style but one was a size larger. That's one of the drawback of saving all the kids shoes and having some many feet to shod. I have many pairs of shoes around. Lots of sizes, lots of styles...and occasionally I buy a repeat.
I searched all over, with a crying, snotty, threatening-to-throw-up-at-any-minute toddler following my every step.
I can't find either right shoe of that particular style.

So...since it is so warm today, I grabbed the "shoe box" and pulled out the next size of velcro strapped sandals.

S was intrigued. he had not seen such shoes before. He sat down and offered first one foot and then the other. He watched my every movement as I strapped them on his chunky square feet and then wiggled his plump little toes.
He stood up and walked around in a circle, looking down to see how the shoes fit.
Then he hugged me
and headed out the door to play.

I guess he's feeling back to normal after all.

Sleeping with the Enemy

Well, at the very least, getting services from them.

Today I enrolled my 6 year old at the local elementary school. Officially.
It was weird. The secretary thought I was, for a lack of a better word, dumb. She could see that I had a child almost my size and could not figure out why I was having so much trouble filling out the paperwork. I had to explain that I homeschooled and had never enrolled any of my children in a school.
Ever.
Not even Mothers Morning Out.
Not even pre-school.
Well, once for day care but J was only in day care for 10 weeks and that was 9 years ago.
She asked and was shocked, horrified, and then very cautious of me since I must obviously be close to the edge of sanity being home all day with FOUR children.

Of course, M won't actually go to school there. He's just going for speech therapy once a week for half an hour. But the school is planning for him to be there until next March. They want to hang on to my little guy and they haven't even gotten him in the room yet.

My nine year old looked around the place with some contempt and once again confirmed that he didn't "have to" go there. According to him, they have a very small library and the food smelled funny. After peeking into a few rooms he confirmed that he wasn't missing much.

Afterwards we went to the library and checked out as many books as we could carry and had an early lunch at Pizza Hut with our Book-it coupons.
Poor school can't compete with that.

It's Spring!

Which means we're way behind!!! We'll never catch up. We'll be doing school all summer.

Standardized testing is coming. Have I mentioned that I am the test coordinator for my homeschool support group? I have to place a $2000 order today. Scary.

Spring is also planting time. 10 bushes are in the ground and I don't know how many flowers to go. But my azaleas are starting to bloom. So are my irises and crabapple tree. My Lady Banks Rose and "Nanny's switch" bush are about to bloom. They take me back to her arms. I have to order sod today. We'll need 2 palettes. The left over grass will go down to the cemetery to dress up Daddy's place along with a few hardy azaleas. I would plant a Lady Banks but those things grow like wisteria and I can't get down there often enough to keep it from taking over the whole back wall.

Spring is also baseball. Baseball starts next week. Have I mentioned that I am coaching again? yep...t-ball. I can't mess up t-ball. Thankfully the game season is only 6 weeks.

On a good note, ZooDad will not go to TX for 3 weeks then Germany for 8 days. Now he'll just take 2 four day trips to DC and then to Germany for 8 days. I plan to quarantine him in the garage for at least 5 days. The boys however, are quite excited about the prospect of more German chocolate.

There's other stuff. I'll post it as I come to it in my head.

I did get a great complement.
When I was in high school and college, I always felt that my best feature was my smile. Well,poundage, 4 kids, and the stress of life has diminished my smile a bit...so I thought.
I was in Home Depot (buying plants) and asked an associate to point me towards the carpet cleaning solutions. He asked if he knew me. I admitted he looked familiar but couldn't figure out how. We played the association game. (Are you are Warren? We had basketball at Wesley? Do you work on post?) When he finally said, "I know you from someplace...I remember you smile."
I guess I still have it. I'll live off that one for the next month.

Oh, and the new buying season has begun. My HWT books are in and so is Singapore MPH science. I love it!!!!! We got home at 4pm and J has already done the first chapter including the work book and activity book. He loves it too.
I've also ruled out Singapore math...I think we'll just stick with MCP and actually do all the stuff in the teacher's manual for a change.

It's spring! Plant flowers, be happy, and don't forget to spray the weed killer before they take over the place.

Homeschool March Madness

Yes, it's that time of year again. The catalogs have started arriving. Those glossy pics filling my mind with unfulfilled educational opportunities. Lakeshore tempts me. Oh I need all that stuff! What beautiful tables and cubbies and COOL organizers!
Catalogs make me anxious to scrap everything and start anew. We need new science. We need new math. Maybe Singapore math will turn my little guys into math geniuses. What kind of bad mom am I to deny them such a powerful tool for understanding math!

Catalog guilt!
My kids don't own enough books!
My kids don't have enough math practice.
We've haven't done nearly enough Latin!
My kids don't write well enough.
And we are behind.
I need something to fix it! Maybe I'll find in in Rainbow Resource when that catalog shows up.
Maybe I should send them to school.
Frantic. That's me. Every March.


Then I stop and actually think for a minute. Maybe I could add some Singapore or maybe I should fully implement the math I have first. The kids aren't behind. They aren't compared to anything but themselves. If I compare them to the poor children locked up in our local schools...they are certainly on average with them. Calm down.

yeah...easier said than done.

I'm not dead but I feel like it.

ZooDad brought home a German super bug. It has worked it way through the Zoo, affecting each zooby in a different way. ZooDad cocooned himself in bed for 2 days and was incoherent but caused me no extra work.
Baby S developed croup with led to a trip to the ER. After a nebulizer treatment, a steroid shot and 4 hours of observation, we went home only to return to the doctor two days later for oral steroid prescription and antibiotic for the impetigo he has developed on his face. (We've taken to calling him El Snotto.) The cool mist humidifier is going 24 hours a day.
A got a high fever (104) then M joined in (105) just to keep Mommy on her sleep deprived toes. We went back to the doctor and found out that both have Strep throat. More antibiotics.
Today, J threw up a few times. He is not running a fever. I'm keeping a close eye on him. The doc has now said that if he even thinks about a sore throat, he'll start antibiotics too.

Yay me~!!!!!

Now I have a sinus headache and my nose is stuffy. I had briefly considered wearing a mask ala MJ. Now I wish I had.

I've been lysol-ing the house and scrubbing everything.
So the Zoo is closed.

I need a bablefish

My third child is a hoot, even when I don't understand him.

This morning I woke to the proclamation "I uh ites geen!"
You want ice cream?

"No! I uh Ites GEEN! GEEN! Geen?" He looks at me as if I have lost some mental faculties.

The ice is clean?

"Noooooo! I uh geen. I air uh gown." Holding his hands above his head. This is said with the air of the French Knights from Holy Grail. I can almost imagine him adding..."you zillly woman!"

By now I am just staring at him. I have no idea what he is talking about....then it dawns on me.

You a king? You wear a crown?

"Yets!"

At this point my oldest comes in to the room to inform me that A is an Ice King who wears an ice crown. Oooooooohhhhhhh. Gee, why couldn't he have told me that five minutes earlier.

Today's Treadmill Report

32 minutes, 1 incline, 2.8 MPH, 6 minutes running (I am a sad and pathetic woman)
U2's One album for entertainment

Techno geek husband

ZooDad is such a geek. He has this "reader" program installed. You highlight the text and hit "play" and the computer will read it to you in one of 10 different voices. The AT&T voices are the most realistic sounding.
So I tried it out by having it read my last post.
unfortunately there is no "Southern Belle" voice.
ZooDad has Chosen Crystal 16 as his favorite.

For some reason this bothers me a little. He likes having this computer woman read to him.
Hmmmm.

and on and even stranger note...My backspace key has stopped working. How weird is that. I didn't realize how much I used it.

Today I got my butt up!

I actually got motivated by Poppins' get-up-and-go post. I got up and went.

I got up at 7 am. Now don't laugh. I am a night owl and 7 am is disrespectfully early for me to get up and dressed. But I did this morning.
I threw on some cotton pants and a t-shirt. Put on my running shoes, popped some biscuits in the oven and set the timer. I told my oldest to come get me when the stove beeped. Then I went upstairs and climbed on the treadmill.

After a quick warm up I powered the incline up to 1 and the speed up to 2.8 MPH. I'm short. 2.8 MPH means my feet are flying. After a 10 minute walk, I tried a little running. I did two minutes as Sarah recommended, then 4 minutes of walking, then another 2 minutes of running.

Then I had to hop off and get the biscuits. I did get to squeeze in a Rocky move by running down and then back up the stairs...so that should count too.

Once I prevented breakfast from burning (Mah biscuits are burnin'!) it was back on the treadmill.

I quickly remembered why I hate being on the treadmill It's pretty boring, even with CC on the morning news.
I put on my headphones and popped in some Maroon 5.
Awesome dance music. Kind of a bluesy/funk thing to it.
I didn't meet the goals for running but I did keep my feet moving fast by dancing on the treadmill. Yes, dancing. I can only imagine what the neighbors must have thought of me this morning.

Once "Tangled" started, I was really going. Just imagine a short, overweight mom with no dance skills doing a Jamirquai imitation, except without the big, furry, pimp hat. That was me this morning.

It was fun. The time flew by.

I must say that I feel (and hope) that dancing on the treadmill is just as good of a workout as jogging on one. At the very least, it's more fun. I sure was sweating.
Oh, if you try to do this at home, make sure you keep one hand on the bar for the fancy footwork, especially on the little side turns.

Tomorrow is Violent Femmes. I'll let you know how that works out. I'll have to keep the headphones on for that one.

Shallow tales from the Zoo

ZooDad is home and he'll be leaving again tomorrow. The man needs to give me at least a week between trips. I haven't even finished the laundry from his last trip.

J has rediscovered the Etch-a-sketch. He's quite good at it too. He writes me etch-a-sketch notes. That's a talent right there. I can't ever figure out which way to turn those knobs and he's writing out eight word messages on it.
I wonder if etch-a-sketch artists are paid highly.

A cracked me up this morning. He happened to see that toe fungus commercial, the one with Digger the Dermaptophyte. He got this look of horror on his face and then yelled...."IT'S IN A TOE! IT'S IN A TOE!!!! It's not in my toe."
snort

M starts OT tomorrow. He's just barely off average and the therapist thinks he only needs about 6 months of therapy. That's a whole lot better than the years we expect A will need.

Just one more basketball game and the season is over. We had out last practice last night. I am so relieved. Now if we can just hold our own on Saturday, I'll be happy.

May your toes have no fungus.

Sing it with me......

Tomorrow....Tomorrow....I love ya'....Tomorrow...

ZooDad comes home! YEAH!!!!
I need the big cheese grinning smiley face.

I don't' know why this last trip was so bad. After ten years of ZooDad being gone at least 1/4 of the year, I really should be used to it. But this week was just a kicker.
But at 7:38 pm I will feel much better. My anchor will come back home. I know sometimes he feels that he's just the breadwinner for our family. I think I need to remind him more often that he is truly the foundation, roof, and main structural support of our family.
I can do all the things that I do because I have his love and support. Without him...well...go back and read my last two posts.

I need him. He's the one who makes me believe that I am doing things right. He tells me that the new curtains look perfect that way I've hung them. The that laundry doesn't have to be caught up and the sink can have dishes.
That having four healthy, happy, clean and fed boys is a major achievement.

I wish I was more eloquent and I could put into words. I guess the best thing way to say it is that I have many times over the past 10 years, gotten on my knees and thanked God for sending that man into my life.

And tomorrow we get him back!

Crawling out of my pity puddle.

I'm really not much of a whiner. But every now and then I dig myself out a nice little hollow and cry it full so I can wallow in it. It's comforting for a bit. But after I'm covered in my own pitifulness I look at how filthy I am and think to myself..."Well, that accomplished nothing. What are you doing this for?"

sigh

Maybe it's because ZooDad is in Germany and I can't talk to him like I'm used to. Maybe it's the fact that standardized testing is rapidly approaching and I am feeling the crunch...though I know we aren't "behind." Maybe it's the stress of getting M assessed for OT and speech or redoing A's Medicaid waiver for disabled children. Maybe it's the fact that I just shelled out $100 on an stupid ER visit because a cut on my stupid foot got infected and I have to take these stupid antibiotics for a week.
Maybe its just PMS.

But I can't publicly wallow in my pity. I can't actually voice my frustration. They'll just try to make it better or worse....I'll open the door for them to comment of my life choices. Yes, I know I do too much. Yes, I know A requires a lot of one-on-one time. Yes, four kids is a lot of work. Yes, I know homeschooling, cub scouts, basketball, my rubberstamp business, my web work, and my hobbies all take up a lot of time.
I know this.

But I'm not giving any of it up. Why should I have to? My life brings me more joy than stress. The things I do, I do for my huband, my sons, or for myself. Which part is too much? Which part is worth giving up?

None of it.

Wait

I'll give up the PMS. That part is not worth it.

Still a misfit

I am now convinced that I just won't ever fit in anywhere. No matter where I am, unless it's home with ZooDad, I'm not "enough." I'm not religious enough. I'm not worldly enough. I'm not trendy enough. I'm not fashionable enough. I'm not talented enough. My kids watch too much TV. I don't read enough books and I read the wrong kind. I don't eat the right foods. I don't interact with my kids the right way. I don't have issues with evolution. I homeschool my kids. I still have have two kids sleeping in my room. I don't wear the right clothes. I don't have decent shoes. I have too much money. I don't have enough money. I'm such a closed-minded conservative. I'm too liberal for my own good. I'm not doing enough. I'm doing too much. Whatever topic is being discussed...I either don't know enough or know too much and that frightens people. I'm a nerd. I'm a ditz.
No matter what group I am with, I am the odd man out.
I'm clueless. I'm out of the loop. I am out of fashion. I'm out of touch.
Today, I have been reminded of this twice by two different groups. I'm not "enough."

I was wrong. Life is just like high school.

My social skills must stink horribly bad or I care too much about what others think.
Please forgive my rant. I had to get it out.

Ok, now that the power situation is stable....

I can tell you my newest source of mommy embarrassment.

So A has this speech problem. *I* understand him. His Daddy understands him. His multitude of brothers understand him. Some people who hang out with his toddler self understand him. But strangers...well...they usually look has him with puzzled expressions and then look up to me for translation of some enlightened phrase.
More often than not it's something like "I have a red truck." or something potty related.

Of course, over the past few days people have been able to understand him quite well and I'm not getting a puzzled look. I'm getting "maybe-we-should-call-child-protection-services-on-this-lady" look.

Let me first explain A's speech idiosyncrasies. He can't say "f." Most of the time he substitutes "b" for any "f" sounds. So the phone becomes "bone." a fork becomes "bork." He can't do "sh" either. His "sh" sounds magically transform into "ch" sounds. Bush becomes "buch." Shoes are "choosch."

All this is fine in most of our conversations. We've learned to interpret and gently correct and mimic the proper pronunciation. (His ST asked us too so don't think we're pushing the kid.)

But lately...as in every day...he's wanted to talk to complete strangers about our pet fish and all things fish related. (Go ahead. Do the substitution. Yes....that is what comes out of his mouth.)

Oh goodness... he does love to talk about the fish. "I have 2 new fish and one old fish. When my old fish dies, we're going to get a new fish. I has an old big black fish. That fish sucks on everything. The new fish are small and red. The new fish eat all the time. The cats likes to drink the fish water. Do you have a fish? You should get fish. Fish are nice."

Oh yes.
The poor strangers. First they look horrified. Then they eventually figure it out and then start to giggle and blush. Then they give me that "you-poor-thing" look while I try to change the subject to something non-fish related. One guy at the zoo just threw his head back and laughed until he cried.

The boy loves his fish.

Aw Crud!!!!

I finally get a moment to blog. I even type up a clever little teaser and a story about my 3rd kid's funny speech stuff....then lightning strikes and everything went black.

Power Loss.
It came back on though. (I just had a Monty Python moment just there. bonus points for the one who guesses what line popped into my head.)

Now I am realizing what a bad idea it is to let the boys play with my flashlights. I have no idea where any of them are. I did manage to find a lighter and I gathered some candles. Just in case.

Now I'm sitting here with a lighter and tea candle in my pocket.

Just in case.

Toilet update for Dy

No, it is still not fixed. ZooDad did however rig it so I can flush without sticking my hand in the tank.
Who knew that replacement toilet parts were responsible for the moral decline in our country.
By the way ZooDad reacted as you did. He's still ranting about it since HE is now responsible for picking up the new handle.

No flushing on Sundays

It was a pretty non-blog weekend. The basketball team I coach, won another game. I did laundry. Oh, and I broke the toilet.
Sunday morning, I tried to flush and the plastic handle thing that raises the flapper, broke off. So when I pressed the handle, nothing happened.
This prompted me to wake up ZooDad so he could investigate the cause of the non-flushing toilet. (I manage most of the household. I do not handle plumbing, electrical, or computer issues.)
ZooDad determined the issue and asked me to pick up a toilet handle kit when I went out. Notice that was a "when" and not an "if." I tend to run all over on Sundays. It is the one day I can go store hopping without the ZooBoys. Right at lunch, I decided that I needed to cross the river and head over to the Target in the next state.
Wow...that sounds odd of me. Let me explain. We live three miles from this river/state line. There is a town on the other side of the river, in this other state that shares the same name as my town. This town is just an extension of my town. It is no big deal to go from one state to the other. In fact, when I was in high school in the other state...I would drive to my current state for breakfast each morning before heading to school.

Any way, I needed to go to Target to get exchange a broken present that J got for his birthday and my Target was all out that item.
I got to that Target at 12:45 and found it closed. The sign said that it would not open until 1:30. It was only then that I remembered the Sunday Blue Laws.
geesh
I called ZooDad to let him know that I wouldn't even get in the door for another 45 minutes. He reminded me about the toilet handle so I went across the street to the Super Wal-Mart (which was open) to get the handle and grab a book to read while I waited for Target to open. By the time I got to the check out, I had picked up a half dozen odd items. My cashier rang up my purchases except the toilet handle.
She said, "You can't buy this yet."

I stared at her for a least three seconds before asking why.

It seems that the state's Blue Laws forbid the purchase of toilet handles before 1:30 pm on Sundays. Toilet handles are hardware and apparently no hardware purchases are past of the Blue Laws that forbid alcohol purchases on Sunday. It was 1:10 pm.

That's right....even if it is an emergency...you'll just have to wait until 1:30 like everybody else. State law does not prevent a store from opening before the stated time. They just can't sell certain things until after 1:30 pm. Toilet handles are apparently on that list of Sunday contraband.

Ironically, due to this county's status as a tourist location, I could have ordered a beer at Applebee's at 11:30 am but heaven forbid if I'd like to flush before 1:30.

Thoughts of "Music Man" entered my head.
Ya got trouble, folks!
Right here in River City!
Trouble with a capital "T"
And that rhymes with "P"
And that stands for pool!

Can't waste a good day

The Zooboys are lunching out on the deck. As soon as we finish SOTW and science (also out on the deck) we'll be done for the day. The boys have already made plans. They are going to look for signs of Spring.

Wishful thinkers.

I've told them what to look for. (Increased insect activity, enlarged leaf buds, flowers, little green sprouts.) They are guaranteed to find something since it has bee a bit warm here and my Gardenias are blooming. That is one of the wonderful parts of living in the South. Ever February shows signs of Spring.

Daddy sang bass.....

Today has been a Johnny Cash-a-thon. That was my Dad's music. My earliest memories are listening to Johnny on 8-track in my Dad'd white Ford pick-up. I didn't listen by choice. There just wasn't any other option so I just learned to like it.
I went to see Mr Cash twice in concert. My parents took me. Well, my Dad went and Mom and I had to come along. That was back when you could bring your child to a concert. My Dad used to try to play Johnny's music and he would force me and my best friend Lois to sing along.
As I grew older, I moved away from my Daddy's old fuddy music. But I never forgot the lyrics or the melodies. They stayed hidden in some strange recess of my mind. I actually won a $100 bet in college due to my repetoir of JC lyrics.

When my father was diagnosed with cancer in 1999, I came across one of his Cash cassette tapes. I popped into my tape player and smiled at the familiar songs of prison, drunkenness, and finding redemption in the Lord. The sounds from my childhood filled my little sedan and my oldest son instantly fell in love with the style. Over the next years, I started buying my own Cash CD's and buying a copy for my Daddy too.
The boys came to know Johnny Cash's music as "Granddaddy's music." I have calle my Daddy many times to share with him the love his grandsons had for "Johnny Yuma," "Teen-age Beauty Queen," and "One Piece at a Time." I went and bought the CASH 4 CD with DVD just to show my father the video of "Hurt" which was being played on MTV.
When Mr. Cash died in 2004. I mourned. He had served in the Air Force the same time my Daddy did. He had a son my age. And he had sang the soundtrack of my time with my Daddy.
I had known for years that my father would most likely die from the cancer that he had been fighting. I knew he would be gone before I would be ready but I never really accepted it until Johnny Cash died. If he could die....then my own father could.

So now I listen to this music by choice. I find great joy and comfort that my favorite little boys are learning to sing the songs I listened to with my favorite little man. I hope they are scarred by "Cocaine Blues" but I figure since I wasn't...they'll be okay. I love sharing this with them. They are things their Granddady would have loved to share with them. It's my way of keeping him with them.

And when they finally do get to see him again...they'll already know all the words to sing along.

Daddy sang bass, Mama sang tenor
Me and little brother would join right in there
Singin' seems to help a troubled soul

One of these days and it won't be long
I'll rejoin them in a song
I'm gonna join the family circle at the throne ...

No, the circle won't be broken
Bye and bye, Lord, bye and bye ...
Daddy'll sing bass, Mama'll sing tenor
Me and little brother will join right in there
In the sky, Lord, in the sky.
In the sky, Lord, in the sky.

Gizoogle (mature language warning also called..cuss words)

If you need a "mature language" giggle, Do a search on Gizoogle. The discriptions come up in Snoop Dog speak.

According to them, The Zoo is "Tha trivial comments from tha Rappa Mom of four wonderful ZooBoys n sh*t." Ha, ha, ha....somtimes I am that.

Update on my delayed talker

He's getting closer to where he was prior to potty training. The "s" blends are still giving him trouble but he manages to make himself understood in spite of not being about to say any unvoiced sounds. (p,t,c,f,h)
Last night he spent a good bit of time trying to talk me into buying a Dyson. I think he liked it because it was gold and not yellow like my plain old vacuum.

Odd kid.

Trying again without the drugs and the menthol.

After basketball on Saturday, we headed over to our friendly neighborhood pet shop. My intentions were to pick up a ultra cool herp habitat and then let the boys pick out one newt each. I had spent the previous days really talking up the finer points of newt ownership and what great pets they were. (They are really cool pets. Fun to hold, but not too fast. Unique, but not too difficult to care for.)

We were all set to get new newts.

Alas, the pet shop had NO NEWTS! None! They were totally newtless.

We were all disappointed. I was just crestfallen. I think ZooDad was secretly glad. He has this amphibian phobia. I stomped around the store, quite upset and let down. The ZooBoys were sad for the approximately 3 seconds it took for them to discover the small mammal tanks.
Once they saw those little hamster heads, any thought of having newt pets quickly faded away.

As soon as Baby S planted himself belly down on the floor to get a closer look at the little balls of fur, ZooDad knew it was inevitable.
ZooDad was a little reluctant but I convinced him. I've had quite of bit of small animal care experience. In my pre-zoo days, I taught middle school science and our room really was a ZOO! At the high point, our class was home to 5 Zebra finches, some oscars, a few fire belly newts, a few Oregon newts, a fire bellied toad, a Chinese water dragon, a mean-as-heck iguana, a guinea pig, a gerbil, a dwarf lop bunny, and family of Russian dwarf hamsters. They was one substitute that refused to work in my room due to the critters...not the kids.
And then just for good measure, I worked in a pet shop during college. I used to have quite a herp collection. I was one of those tank dweebs that built custom sets. I'll have to dig out some pictures so you can appreciate how committed I once was. (and how patient my parents were.)


The boys picked out 2 tiny little Russian dwarf hamsters and I selected two cages and all the accessories for feeding and playing. It's pretty much the equivalent of a mile of hamster tubing. Our newest ZooCritters have been named Susie and Goldie. Thankfully, our local petshop only sells female small mammals. ZooDad is slowly warming to the idea of us actually taking said creature out of their habitats (or exhibits as M calls them.)and playing with them. He's having a hard time being as patient and understanding as my parents were. (I have to tell the story about my dad and the hamster food. It was the only time he ever got made about my pets.)

Poor guy. He just wanted fish. Not newts and definitely not hamsters.
To make him happy, we cleaned out the tank and bought a pair of grumpy red oscars. They sort of match ZooDad in personality.

I'm still looking for newts though. One day, I'm going to build a new tank. I want a set up like super newt. Are those not the cutest little herp faces you've ever seen?

No 'newts' is good 'newts'

****ha, ha, ha...somehow I managed to post just the title. That would be a funny thing to just leave there. Someone would just drop by and think, "Oh my, the ZooMom has lost the last shred of sanity she had left. Maybe it's time for her to hit the funny farm and leave to Zoo in more capable hands"
I think I should just leave this post and start again when I'm not high on cold medicine and Vicks vapor rub.****

More funny talk

We had three fish: a plecostomus, a spotted cat, and a mean, black cichlid. We've had them for a awhile. Yesterday, the spotty cat went to that great fish tank in the sky. Well, at least his little fishy spirit did. His earthly body, however, got partially sucked in the filter in-take tube.
That was how M discovered him yesterday morning. The "Nemo Escape" gone terribly wrong.

After all the pet death discussion...I expected trouble.
All he said was..."A's fish is dead! I get to scoop him out and flush him."

So much for trouble.

Today, I did find the trouble. Jaune, the mean, black (formerly yellow) cichlid is having swim bladder problems. He's not going to last much longer. I've dosed the tank but there's not a whole lot more I can do. M is not happy about it.

I, on the other hand, am happy with the thought of ditching the fish tank. It was ZooDad's idea to get fish. I wanted newts. They are much easier to take care of and I have lots of reptile and amphibian experience.

Newts are cool. Now all I have to do is convince the boys and I am back in herp heaven.

ZooDad wants to be on the record

The scanner is now working.
Thank you big man.

All cozy up in the Bear Cub den

Three years ago, I started as my oldest son's Tiger Leader. We had 11 Tiger Cubs. It was a big den.
The next year, I had a new baby so I didn't do the official leader thing but I helped out at every meeting. We lost a few Wolves but gained a few and ended up with 12 Wolves bridging up to Bears.
This year I took over the leader reins again with a fabulous co-leader. 10 of the Bears came back. One moved away and one just really wasn't into scouting. At the first meeting, we added 4 new Bear cubs bringing us up to 14 in the den.
No problem...14 boys. Most, I have known for several years. All homeschooled.
Last den meeting....number 15 showed up. Wow...15.

Today 16 and 17 arrived.

We're going to need more chairs.

No one wants to split up though. They are all thick as thieves and love to be together. Plus they are quite well behaved for a pack of 3rd grade boys. It's chaos but they are entertaining.

17 and we only have 38 kids in the whole pack.

That's not counting my 3 Boy Scouts that serve as Den chiefs.

We have a big room.
We also have a lot of fun.

Today's activities: dried bean mosaics of Native American Symbols, a puzzle to learn about tribes that have been in our area, learned to play three traditional Native American Games and made two of them to take home and play. Oh yeah...and we decorated Valentine cookies for a snack.

Why I hate sharing a computer with my Husband

This is a grumpy rant post.
You have been forewarned.

One day, I spent an hour setting up some new checklists for our homeschool. Both J and M got new weekly lists. Plus I did some new chore charts. My whole day revolved around getting these new lists implemented.
I clicked print and the monster computer gave me the "Printer is not online" message. Now, ZooDad's desk is not the most organized of areas. Cables stretch far and wide. The printer is actually across the room. So I had no idea how to get the printer back online. So I called ZooDad at work to tell him that the printer was not working. His response, "Yeah, I know. I'll fix it when I get home."

Grrrrrr.
This morning, I got up a little early so I could scan and copy some worksheets for M. He's only 6 but he likes to be occupied during school time. If J is working, M wants to work too. So I fired up the computer....waited for it to get going...chose my handouts and put them in the scanner and pressed "copy."
Nothing happened.
So I tried the normal thing by accessing the program through the computer. The dreaded message window popped up..."Scanner is not online."
I emailed ZooDad to inform him. His Response...."Yeah, I know. I'll fix it when I get home."

I hate sharing a computer.

Conversations in the Van

This is just a quick post because I had to make a record of this precious conversation that explains a lot about my 6 year old's personality.

Thursday evening, I went to tuck him in on his lower bunk bed and my little 6 year old "M" was crying. "I don't want Stamper and Angel to die. And I don't want Max to die either." Stamper and Angel are our dogs. Max is out cat. Apparently, his older brother had told him that dogs only live about 15 years and that our dogs were already 10 years old.
So I spent some time comforting him and explaining that all creatures die eventually. I tried to focus on the fact that Max is only 2 years old and has a lot of time left.

Friday morning, we were in the van and we had the following conversation.

M:Mom, Max is 4 years younger than me right?"

Me: Yep, Max was even born in the same month as you. When you turn 7, Max will be 3.

M: And when I turn 10, Max will be 6. And I'll be 19 when Max dies.

Me: Well it depends on how long Max lives. But you'll be a lot older than you are now.

M: I'm glad people live longer than pets do.

Me: Me too.

M: If you were a cat, you'd be dead by now. (Older brother J glares at him.)

Me: Well, I'd certainly be an old cat.

M: No, you'd be a dead cat. (J glares at him again.)

Me: Well, when you get as old as I am, I'll still be alive.

M: Yeah....but you'll be in a nursing home.


AAAACCCKKKKKK! What a funny kid.

A list of non-school things I want my boys to be able to

1. tell how ZooDad and I met and what we first thought of each other.
2. find where their relatives are buried.
3. change a flat tire.
4. make decent iced tea.
5. Tell the story of their birth day. What happened and how we felt.
6. explain their complete medical history and our medical history.
7. build a really good sand castle
8. find sand dollars
9. swim
10. cook one really great meal for guests.
11. play a sport, well.
12. read for fun and education.
13. sing a few hymns.
14. play an instrument.
15. change a diaper.
16. soothe a crying baby.
17. treat others with compassion.
18. use power tools.
19. grow something beautiful.
20. speak with confidence.
21. pick out their own clothes.
22. be a good guest.
23. make people feel comfortable.
24. smile in the face of adversity.
25. be proud of themselves.
26. try new things without fear.
27. follow directions.
28. work hard for the sake of doing a good job.
29. do something they love.
30. love someone as their father loves me.

A no-blog kind of day

We had a faily boring day.
The two oldest ZooBoys had check ups today. J is off the charts and M is 95 percentile. We grow 'em big here at the zoo.They get it honest though. ZooDad is a giant.
Then it was a quick trip down to the cemetary to check out my Dad's new stones and make sure everything was as my Mom wanted it. It is. Headstone is nice, footstone is in place and the flower holders have been placed. My grandparents' headstone was lifted and cleaned. The brickwork is all done. Once it gets warmer, I'll have the sod put in. Once everything was checked out, the zooboys and I ate out McDonald's take out amongst the old stones.

This is the cemetery I played in as a child. I would help clean of my grandfather's grave. I'd pull weeds and plant flowers. Now my sons get to do the same for their grandfather.

Then it was off to speech and therapy, a quick stop at the scout shop to pick up acheivements for tomorrow's pack meeting, and over to my mom's to show her the pictures from the cemetery and visit for a while.

Here there be dragons....

And knights, and wizards, and really big cats.

Pictures of what my kids do when left to their own devices before breakfast. This morning they decided to put on their Halloween costumes. Please try to ignore the unhealthy breakfast I have provided...waxy chocolate donuts. I figure it is one step up from Bill Cosby's Chocolate Cake.
We'll start with the youngest two.
S and A and modeling the latest in dragon wear. These lovely ensembles came from that bastion of bargains...Wal-mart. The hoods were once adorned with heavy, ugly, dragon faces complete with eyeballs and mouths. I cut those off, repaired the holes, and made a much lovelier costume...which I say without bragging.

Here's the littlest one enjoying his donuts.


This is my three year old, with no pants. We don't need no stinkin' pants!!!!


Here's M. He still has a bit of red eye from surgery. He is not wearing the really cool kinght's cape that I made for him. He said he didn't want to get chocolate on it.


This is J...the oldest of the ZooBoys. I made his cosutme out of some spare fabric and an old bed sheet. The hat was the hardest part. I had to feed wire into the brim and the pointy part so it would keep some kind of shape. J made it clear that he wanted to be a Gandalf type of wizard and not a Harry Potter wizards. Hence the floppy brim. He also has a silver staff but chose to eat donuts off his magician's wand instead.
Behind him is Super Max: cat extraordinaire. Max is quite large. When he stands up, he is as tall as my three year old. Don't let the pink heart name tag fool you. That cat is bad to the bone.
J just turned 9 on Sunday. Tomorrow I'll upload his birhtday party pictures and the really awesome magician's hat cake.

testing

Just trying something out.  2:07 pm EST

 

It's not quite "two steps forward-one step back"

It's more like one step forward, slide sideways and slip backwards a bit. It's not exactly where we started but it isn't where we want to be.

My little guy A is day time potty trained. No accidents. But the 13 day emphasis on toileting skills has caused him to loose some language.
I kind of expected it but didn't want to think about it. I had noticed it, but was in steep denial that it was actually happening.

Yesterday, he saw his speech therapist in over a week and she pointed out what I already knew. He had lost some sounds and clarity. "It's expected in children with apraxia. They just can't work on several motor planning issues at one time. Sometimes he will make great progress, sometimes he'll plateau, and sometimes he'll regress. But we'll keep working." That was supposed to make me feel better. It didn't. Neither did meeting up with a normal 3.5 year old.

That just slapped me hard. This bright, coordinated, well-spoken little boy who just ran circles around my little guy. And for the first time ever in his short life, A may have gotten the feeling that he might not be normal. I could see the hurt on his face when he heard this same sized fellow speak.

I came home and cried.
Then visited the Talking page to remind me of how far A has come in the past 15 months. When Andrew was first diagnosed I found The talking page and I was so discouraged. At 28 months, A was no where near any of the youngest entries. He could say Momma and Daddy, uh-oh, bubba, and bye. The rest of his language was grunting and stuttering uh-uh-uh-uh.
I thought he would never get to the point where he could even say his name. Or say Daddy clear enough for others to understand. We bought a name tag from escopes for his shoe in case if got separated form us because we feared it would be years before he could communicate. It was our greatest fear.

But he has made amazing progress.
We'll just keep working.
For as long as it takes.

Donna's Friday Five

1. We called my paternal Grandmother "Booba" though we spelled it Buba. Here name was Ruby somewhere along the line a grandchild mispronounced it and it stuck.
2. I never named any of my dolls or stuffed animals when I was a child. However I did name a bear I was given when I was 15. His name is London. I still have him.
3. The women in my family have extra teeth and blood vessels. Weird, huh?
4. When I was 5, I had my stomach pumped after eating a pound of m&m's in a hour.
That left me with a chocolate allergy for years. I could only eat white chocolate when it was available at Easter.
5. My family has been in a 200 mile area since 1770. Both sides. The only exceptions were due to military service.

Amazing A! The Potty trained maestro

My third son is developmentally delayed. He's about a year behind in fine motor skills and about 6 months or so in gross motor skills. He also has a speech disability called Apraxia.
Mainly it is a motor planning disorder that affects a lot of stuff besides speech.
So he managed to get through 3 years and 7 months without learning to use the potty. He just couldn't figure it out. His body just wouldn't let him.

Last Thursday, I stuck him in some plastic covered training pants. He wet them three times and got REALLY mad each time. Then it clicked.

Friday, he wore plain old training pants. He had no accidents. WooHoo!

Saturday, we tempted fate and got away with it. We were at the church rec court from 8:30 am to 1:30 pm. Four boys, three in underwear and one change of clothes. Again, A proved he had the right stuff and even managed to use the great big huge toilets in the handicapped stall.

Staying dry at night will prove to be an issue. I've got him in Pull-ups, just in case. But overall, I am amazed. The Wednesday before we started, his occupational therapist said that he might be 4 or even 5 before he had control of those muscles and had the awareness.
I love her..but I'm glad she was wrong.

Funniest part of the whole thing:
I bought Nemo underwear...which he loves! When I told him that he could not put on the previous day's underwear he started wailing, "Dey no dirrrree." I told him that they were dirty but I would wash them and could wear them again when they were clean. He stared at me. I could see the gear whirring in that head of his but could not fathom what he was processing. Then he looked at me suspiciously..."You ach em? Den dey keen?" I said yes, that I could wash them and they would be clean. It then occurred to me that he hadn't had any experience in washing and reusing undergarments. I guess he though that dirty Nemo underwear were thrown away just like dirty diapers. Maybe we should have used cloth.

Sorry, I've been busy potty training

I'll post about it next time. It was amazing. The little guy is the fastest and the latest I've every known. He's already in regular big boy undies.
He certainly is testimonial for waiting for readiness and then making them do it.

So now I'm down to one in diapers. I don't know what to do with all my free time.
Oh yeah, I'm spending twice as much time observing the potty master, inspecting his accomplishments, and handing out m&m's. Yes, I unabashedly admit...I bribe my children.

I'm also going to move all my old post over from blog city. I don't want to loose them and I don't want to post there. They have no spell check.

The girl in the gun shop

For Christmas, I bought ZooDad a new gun. A 9mm pistol to be specific. He picked it out and printed off all the relevant information. Then I went to the gun store to buy it.

It's fun to watch the guys respond to women in a gun store. It even more fun to watch them respond to women shopping by themselves in a gun store.
The men in this particular gun store were especially fun.

I had to fill out the paperwork for the background check. Of course, I messed up right at the start by giving my hubby's Social security number instead of my own. Hee, hee,hee. The Army wife thing dies hard. I never use my number. I only use his.

Then came the hard question. Do you have any current warrants for your arrest? Well, not that I know of. Once you stick my name in there, I guess we'll find out. The gun store guys didn't find that funny. at. all.

I also had to buy ammo...also called bullets. What sort of ammo did I want? I assumed ammo that fit. But alas...there are different grades of ammo. What kind of shooting did the new owner want to do. I had to answer that quite honestly the new owner and his brother were most likely going to shoot old cans off a log. (I assumed correctly.) Well that meant I wanted target grade. Cool, give me three boxes. I figured it was like batteries: you want to make sure you have enough to play with.

Next, I had to find a new holster for this new toy. Well, this particular store didn't have one exactly like ZooDad wanted to fit his new toy.
So I had to go to a different store.
I took the new pistol in with me. I guess it never really occurred to me that I couldn't. I figured was like buying a dress for a formal event. You carry the shoes you plan on wearing with you, to make sure the length is right.

The different store was a large hunting supply store. Very large...lots of hunting stuff. Many, many, many dead, deer heads all over and a unique mounted fish coffee table. It's in a old K-mart store to give you an idea of the sheer mass of hunting supplies.
I walked in with the new gun in it's case and announced to the first salesperson I saw that I had a gun and that I needed a holster for it. After a brief lookover, this employee decided I wasn't a terror threat, and opened the case so we could find the appropriate holster.
We found one, I bought it and went on my merry way.
I spent the next two weeks teasing ZooDad about the pistol that I may or may not have bought for him and chastising him for asking questions at Christmas time.

At least now I know for sure that there are no warrants for my arrest.

Better Days with some General Grumpiness

Well Tuesday was better, Wednesday was a good as it could be.

Tuesday we played, did some work, played, did some work. Worked out on the deck in the sun. It went quickly and before we knew it, it was time for dinner, baths, and bedtimes. With ZooDad out of town, I get to be a single parent. When he is gone, I tend to roll into bed the same time the kids do.

Yesterday, was as productive as it could be. Wednesday is appointment day. M had his check up with the eye doctor. She didn't do any assessments. Mainly she needed to make sure there was no infection and that the eye muscles hadn't slipped.
All is well on the eye front.

Then is was a quick lunch at Micky D's and we were off to A's appointments. He has Occupational therapy and speech therapy every Wednesday. (And speech again on Monday.) That gives us two hours in the waiting room to work on school stuff. That depends on how distracting the waiting room is. I am amazed at how many people just do not control their kid at all. Yesterday, as the boys attempted to work on their SOTW worksheets, two children kept asking them their paper and colored pencils. I repeatedly and kindly (and loud enough for the parent to hear) said that the boys were working on school work and that they were using those supplies to finish their work. When I gave these children a sheet of blank paper found in my book, they pretty much pushed my kids away from the pencils and took over the area. They threw pencils. They pushed and shoved. They even attempted to tear other paper out of the boys' notebooks.
The parent said nothing the whole time. Oh, and her baby child took my baby child's pacifier out of his mouth and put it in her own. (ARRRGGGGGG!) And then pushed my stroller all over the waiting room.


I'm hoping that these kids are associated with a child just doing eval during our time slot and are not going to be weekly visitors when we are visiting. If they are, we'll have to hang out in the hallway because that is valuable school time for us. I know that sounds horribly ugly. But we've been doing school in the waiting room for 14 months. I make sure all of my children are quiet and well behaved. Baby S learned to walk in the waiting room and he even knows how to behave.


I don't expect quiet in a children's waiting area but I sure don't expect to be babysitting other people's kids either.

So FWIW the smiling mom in the waiting room who is humoring your children as they climb all over her and throw school supplies around the room...she is not happy with you and your lack of parenting skills. She thinks your kids are brats and would tell you so if she weren't trying to be a civilized person. If you'd stop watching soaps n the waiting room TV long enough to look over you'd realize that.

First Day "Back to School"

Yesterday was our first day of the new year. We took an extended vacation due to M's eye surgery. My MIL was going to be here for three days and I knew there was no way to get anything done with that distraction plus our general chaos.

I would like to say that the day went smoothly with no tears or problems. That we all had a grand time and we loving and creative. That all the boys in the Zoo were cooperative and willing to work hard.
But that would be a big...fat...lie!

ZooDad took off for a week-long trip. I should have known that would set the boys off a little. Plus we had speech today, so we had a timetable that had to be adhered too. Then basketball practice. I just should have realized that I was setting up a tough situation.

Almost all the planned work was finished...with some prodding, forcing, and tears. We skipped history...again. It is the one subject that just gets swept under the rug.

I'm hoping today will be better. I hate being the task master. Days like yesterday really make me give second thoughts to homeschooling. Not because I think I can't provide the boys with a good education but because I feel the teacher/child relationship sometimes interferes with the mom/son relationship.

But I know sending them to school wouldn't fix anything. My sons just don't have that school mentality. J's gentle spirit would be broken immediately. He would either change to fit in or he would be miserable. M would find the lack of rule enforcement unbearable. He would also face teasing for his eye issues, become more self conscious and withdraw. A....well, I don't know if he would ever be in a regular classroom. He would be in a self-contained classroom for at least 3 years. Our local school system has a self contained 3 year old speech special ed class. We have already been pushed to enroll him.
Yeah...that's what I want to do. Send him to special-ed at 3. Put that label on him for the rest of his life.

So I know in my heart that homeschooling IS the best thing for them. I know that the education I give them is superior to what a school could provide them. I just need the strength of spirit to make that happen. I'm hoping today is much better.

So far it seems to be. Math is done and verbs are conjugated. No major wars have broken out and nobody's cried.

Ode to my dying computer

Well technically it's not my computer. It's my hubby's. My computer, which had died and then rose from the ashes like a phoenix, is now the boys' computer. After the death of my not-so-trusty HP, and before it's miraculous resurrection, I was forced to install my hard drive on the upstairs monstrosity that my computer geek husband calls a desktop. Well, it does fit on the desk. The problem is that with three hard drives and numerous add-ons, it requires several fans to keep everything nice and cool. The end results of all these fans is that you power up the computer and it sounds like you're standing on an air craft carrier.

So, that computer is dying. I know I will be blamed for it. I seem to have the PC death touch. You know that AOL commercial where the guy says, "I'd like my computer to make a noise like a Yeti." The monstrous PC did that very thing.
I'm sure that it is not a good sign.

unfortunately, ZooDad is off to DC for the week so he can't fix it.

So that's where it stands. I have a computer to use. I have internet access. I just don't have access to any of my files and all my junk.

Boy Moms, Boys, and Basketball

Today was my first scrimmage as a Basketball coach. I won't even tell you that I knew what I was doing. Amazingly though, the boys played wonderfully, showed all their amazing talent, and the parents of these awesome boys were happy with what we had done so far.
Whew...big sign of relief. One of my biggest concerns is that I wouldn't do right by these boys. That I wouldn't be able to help them learn and grow. And I was afraid that I would let the parents' down.
We have one more practice before the first game and I know what we need to work on. We need to learn two plays, work on defense, and practice making those shots. My co-coach is incredible and I have faith that he can come up with a couple of plays for the boys. I can't. I've ordered "Basketball for Dummies" because I can't tell the difference between a "pick" and a "screen." Plus I have no clue what the positions are. That is sad for the coach to admit.

We had fun. The boys felt good about what they were doing. They worked hard.
I was darn proud of them and relieved with myself.

While there, I dropped off two bags of clothes for a friend of mine's daughter. My friend has 2 boys and a girl. She has successfully mastered that whole boy/girl mom thing. I am in awe of her most days. Heck....I'll admit it. I'm in awe of her everytime time I see her. She's one of those homeschool Mom's that really has her stuff together. She is comfortable being a girl mom and a boy mom. She can talk cub scouts and American heritage girls.

Me...I'm not so "all-together." I manage though. But I am most definitely a boy mom. I can't get the girl thing at all. I can deal with boys of all ages. I can deal with lots and lots of boys. But I can deal with one or two girls for a limited time. More than that and I'm seeking an alcoholic beverage to dull my throbbing head. I'm not sure why that is. After all, I was a girl. I should understand girls.
Maybe that is the problem. I was a girl. I know about that whole "queen bee" thing and hated it as a girl and hate it now as a woman. I guess now I've gotten to a point where I can chose not to deal with that stuff anymore...so I don't.

I chose to shoot baskets. I chose to help dig up worms. I chose to whittle soap bars and build pinewood derby cars. I chose to play with train sets and legos. I chose all that boy stuff.

Most nights I check up on my pack of boys after they have all gone to sleep. I am amazed at what I have brought into the world: these future husbands and fathers. And I hope that I am doing a good job as a boy mom. I pray that I am doing right by them in all things and not just in basketball.
And I am thankful for the opportunity to be their mom.

Just reading through old posts

First I want to give a "howdy" shout to Nerni.
A Berkeley Republican. That one gave me a giggle. You might not want your Alma Mater to find out or they may revoke your diploma. A big thumbs up on GI Joe too. My sons wear camo at least once a week. They also have laser guns and play with RC tanks. ZooDad is a former soldier and the boys are taught that the military are special people who deserve respect for making that decision.

While I was reading my posts I discovered that I am a bit gloomy here. My online persona is so very different from my real world self. I am very quiet online and apparently quite grumpy.

In real life I am a smiling big-mouth. No really...I don't shut up. Don't call me unless you've got a half hour to spare...at least. I can talk about anything too. I tend to read a lot of magazines on some very strange topics and I'm a news junkie.
I'm also extremely overcommitted. I am a Cub Scout leader and a basketball coach though I know nothing about basketball. (hasn't slowed me down though.)
I go "Martha" when it comes to the kids' birthday parties. This year J wants a Magician party and I plan to make a rabbit in a hat cake. I've already found the magic kits to give as party favors. The invitations are a black hat where you can pull out the rabbit with all the information on it.

I scrapbook. I rubberstamp. I love to play the Sims2. And since I brought that up, I have to confess that one of my Sims guys married a woman with a teenager. The teen was surly and impossible to please....so I drowned him. I'm not sure what that says about my personality or morality.

I collect frogs. I used to have real live frogs, and lizards, and newts, and rabbits, and hamsters, and guinea pigs, and birds. But then I had kids and the critters died or found other non-kid houses.

I love Monty Python, CSI, and Boston Legal.
I'm funny.
I smile and laugh most of the time. I'm also extremely sarcastic and downright snarky sometimes. I do derive great humor from other people's tackiness...though I am quite tacky myself.

I have no idea why I am so different online. Maybe if I was as reserved in real life, I wouldn't come home regretful after parties thinking, "Girl, you ran your mouth too much tonight. Those people's ears will be hurting for days."

Oh well.

A Late Resolution

So I'm 6 days late on the whole Resolution thing...but I've decided that from this day on...I will blog 5 days out of 7. I can do that. I think
Oh yeah...and lose some weight too. If I can remember to blog and then hop on the treadmill, I might achieve that.

So I am 6 days behind.
Yesterday I had an excuse though.
My little dictator, M, had eye surgery yesterday. He has a variety of eye issues: amblyopia, congenital esotropia, accommodative esotropia, exotropia after his last surgery, and 4th nerve palsy.
We was diagnosed when he was three. He wore glasses for a years, then stronger glasses. At age 4 he started wear a patch for 8 to 10 hours a day to get his weak eye stronger. At that time he was 20/80 in that eye. He is now 20/30. Then at age 5, he had surgery to try to keep his eyes from turning inward...since the optics and patching had not totally succeeded.

The surgery was not entirely successful either. He was left with an intermittent exotropia. (eyes wandering outward every now and then.) Yesterday was his second surgery. The hope was to bring his wandering eye back inward.
We suspect that now his eyes will turn slightly inwards, which...hopefully...can be fixed with glasses.

And our final hope is that will help align his up and down problem caused by the fourth nerve palsy, avoiding yet another surgery.


Being a parent is hard. You become quite educated on things you never wanted to or expected. I have learned about eye issues, hernias, heart defects, gastro-intestinal issues, speech deficits, sensory disorders, and developmental delays...plus all the 'normal' childhood issues like hand, foot, and mouth, croup, ear infections, and chicken pox.

My pediatrician once joked that I should write a book on "How to know when something is wrong with your child." I'm hoping that someone else does so I can read it.

BTW, M is going just fine. He's playing Age of Mythology with his older brother. Amazing.

What I'm doing besides ranting

Christmas is coming.

It will be here before I figure out Photoshop.

Since losing her husband of almost 54 years, my mom has been a little depressed. I can't blame her. I miss my Daddy so much that I can't put it into words.
She doesn't want anything for Christmas this year. At least nothing anyone here on earth could give her. So I thought I would just do something for her. At my Daddy's funeral I was asked to bring some pictures the funeral home so we could remember what he was like before cancer. I searched through a box of photographs my father gave me and I found what I am sad to say....is the last professional photograph of my parents together. It was taken when I was 3 or so. I remember having it done. It was a photo shoot for the church directory. There is a shot of the three of us and then one of my mom and dad.

As you can see, the photo is in need of repair.
And I am attempting to do that.

So I'm doing some crash courses on Adobe Photoshop. It is very frustrating.
Thankfully, I have a photo printer so I can just print that puppy when I finally get it done.
Mom requested that I do something about her horn-rims and to make her look younger. I love the horn rims and think she looks wonderful. In this picture she's a little older that I am now.
I especially love that 43 year old man who is healthy and grinning. I remember that grin so well. That was the grin that said "come on...let's get some ice cream. But don't tell your Mom this time." That was the grin that followed, "Hey Pumpkin!"
I miss that grin.
I miss that man.

Cancer is cruel. It robs you of the most wonderful people. It tortures them and wears them down. You watch them suffer for so long that you forget the joy, and happiness, and sweetness that their faces once held.

But I was blessed.

Right before we found out that the cancer was back, I took my Daddy to get new glasses. He was right proud of them. You could see it in his face, the way he held himself, the way he smiled. They made him feel good. About 2 weeks before he died, we were sitting in the hospital, watching the Olympics together. He had on his nice new glasses. ("You just wouldn't believe the compliments I've gotten on these glasses, Pumpkin.") He had just gotten his hair cut and was looking rather spiffy. We sat and watched the athletes and talked about politics and the kids. We talked about everything but the cancer that had been the topic of discussion for 5 years.

He looked just like that happy man in the picture and I wouldn't trade that moment for the world.

Out of the blue...A discussion on charity

On the WTM board there is a discussion of door to door soliciting. I must admit, that I hate the constant barrage of school kids selling gift wrap and candles. But I look through their catalogs if I have money and if they have something I want, I buy it. If I'm not interested or have no money to spend, I tell them so with no guilt at all. It's not that hard to say no.

But I was saddened by one poster's admonishment of people collecting food door to door. I know she probably didn't meant it that way and I'm sure she's not heartless. And I can agree with these posters on most door-to-door issues...except the food collections.

You see, I am the captain of my neighborhood's annual food drive. It is part of a larger food drive in 9 counties in 2 states. This past year 158 neighborhoods collected donations for our local food bank. This is an all volunteer program and 100% of all donations go straight to our local food bank.
We don't show up unannounced. Fliers are sent to every house (all 22,000 this year), the newspaper prints daily reminders, and most neighborhoods, including mine, have large signs for all residents to see. So no one can say that they didn't know we were coming.

While I know that every one has their pet charities that they feel are the most important to give to (and this one is mine), I just can't understand the indignation over giving up a single can of food. One can per house in a 150 house neighborhood, would fill 5 barrels. Just one can.

This past October, my 130 house neighborhood filled the 5 barrels I had and every box I could find. We collected 1350 pounds of food and $200. This was warmly welcomed by the food bank. So much so that I am looking forward to doing more next year. I was so proud of my volunteers (21 of them, mostly children), my neighbors, and even myself. I felt privileged to have had the honor of serving such a good and worthwhile organization. It was such an easy thing to do. Make some calls, put out some fliers, highlight maps and weigh all that food. So simple with such great rewards.

I guess it hurt to see that what I viewed and such a godsend, someone else "loathed."
I'm glad she doesn't live in my neighborhood. She'd "loathe" me every year because I happily do all I can to help our food bank. But she would know ahead of time to not answer the door.

I'm also glad that the Golden harvest Food bank exists. Last year they provided over 2 million meals. (MILLION!!!!!) Over a million of those meals went to children. They also provided food pantries to 165,000 families. This does not include to boxes of food delivered to homebound senior citizens (723 a month), supplemental food for at risk seniors ( 3427 bags of food each month), an afterschool food programs for underprivileged children (22,600 meals served) and a daily soup kitchen for our homeless. ( Over 72,000 meals served.) It also doesn't include the 700 boxes of food sent monthly to families in rural communities.

I can't change the world and I can't make miracles. But I can provide a meal to just one hungry person.