Living Room School

I've signed Wyatt up for home school.
I have really been struggling with this decision and what everyone will think of me for doing this, mainly because I have always been my own biggest critic of home school, making jokes like "If we home schooled we would major in Spongebob and organized field trips would be going to Dairy Queen hahahahahaha!"
See?
How do you come back from that?
I have quite a few reasons that have led me to my final we'll try it for a while decision.
The first is this, and don't give me the business about it or think I'm some sort of nancy because I know what the odds are, but you know what, there were quite a few "someones" on that missing Malaysia flight and everyday "someone" is in a car accident, hit by lightning or slips on the soap in the shower, so that just goes to show that anyone could be a someone.
The last reported school shooting of the year was in Troutdale Oregon which just happens to be one county over from me. That made things very real. We are also the state of Kip Kinkle so there are two very real and very devastating examples of young minds running amuck.

As some of you may already know, Wyatt has a very sensitive, creative, whimsical, wandering brain. Always has had, always will. While other little boys were playing kung foo ninja panda, Wyatt was arranging and delivering flowers to the elderly ladies in the trailer park. He would visit me in the salon while I was working and compliment all the ladies on their "lovely" jewelry and "hairdos". As he's grown older and all the other boys have gone on to motocross and things that blow up, Wyatt has taken to designing and creating jewelry. He is a very cool, maybe even verging a little bit on hipster, inteligent young man, but he has yet to really find his social niche at school and has been bullied a great deal over the years. He is also not really the type of kid where a situation like that will "toughen him up". I had him in Karate when he was younger and he took another kid to the mat and inadvertently bloodied the kids nose. I ended up having to take him home because he wouldn't quit crying because he felt so bad.
So there's that.
And then there's the bullying.
I'm not even going to start about the bullying because I will just come across as some crazed mother standing on her soap box preaching about the horrible effects of bullying. I know how bad it is, you know how bad it is, unless you have been bullied you will never know how damaging it is and how it makes you feel for the rest of your life. If you know a bully, say something. If you are a bully, knock it the f#ck off. If you know someone who is being bullied, reach out to them and help.

Now, because of Wyatt's wandering brain he has a very difficult time focusing on the task at hand. Rather it be tying his shoe, brushing his teeth or doing a math equation. God help us all if the kid ever gets a drivers license. Wyatt can understand a concept at school, but it will be long gone by the time he gets home. He is also known by too many teachers for his amazing ability of taking creative license to assignments. Last year he had a project due on the erosion of the coral reef and spent an entire weekend creating a two foot high diorama complete with crocheted jellyfish and glitter starfish. He forgot about the actual research until 5:00 am Monday morning. And so, for that reason home school could either go very very well, or very very bad.
It's a carp shoot.

The last reason is the one that makes my eyes wet, so I'm not going to really get into it and I don't know if it's him or me, or me projecting it on to him, or him playing me to get to stay up late and not go to school, but "it" of course is the Chrysler Building in the living room, the bad "h" word, the whole dropping dead thing. In case you missed out on my month long vacation last winter, you can read about it here. I just had an ultrasound of my heart this month and it looks like my arteries are healing, but I still have the aneurysm in my left ventricle and my heart is functioning at about 55-65%.
So that sucks.
The doctors say we all have a touch of PTSD, and I get that. I don't like to go to town by myself and my nitro is never more than a step away and I don't want to be a syndrome creating a bigger syndrome, but this year, I think we'll just curl up and embrace our little bits of PTSD, FMD, OCD, AD, CHF, CAD, EDS, PostMS and get some GE in K12 Online.

Wish me luck.

Peas.

Old Dogs and Blue Fish

Have you ever got something on a whim like pregnant after too many wine coolers and not taken in to consideration how long you would have it?

 I was thinking about this the other day when a friend got a puppy because puppies are cute and dipped in crack and when you see one you have to have one. She's a good, responsible, upstanding citizen and has another dog that is loved and well cared for and I'm sure this puppy will receive the same treatment, but I don't think she was thinking about the crotch being chewed out of all of her underpants and the legs of her furniture being destroyed when she took that big whif of puppy breath and tucked him under her arm and headed for home.

I have three dogs that drive me crazy I share the house with and make no mistake, they are the pack leaders and I'm just the tall one with thumbs.

Bart works hard and drives himself to near madness making sure that nobody makes any quick moves or too much noise in the house. Bart fends off dangerous vacuum cleaners and sees to it that no aerosol products are dispensed. He follows me from room to room and clears the area around me when we're outdoors by running circles around me.
Good dog Bart.

Buddy is his own man and marches to the beat of a dog whistle that no one but he can hear.
Buddy does what he wants when he's decided it's time to do it. He can herd and separate sheep from either side of the fence, move geese and ducks in complicated patterns across the farm and stare down a stubborn pig.
He excels at all of this.
If it's his idea.
His weakness is carbs and can be called off duty with pasta and baked goods.
Good dog Buddy.

Pooter.
Not much can be said about Poo because Poo doesn't do much. I got Poo when I was still working and I used to take him to the salon with me. He would charm the ladies with his big brown eyes and walk around our little downtown courtyard gleaning snacks from neighboring businesses, and it wasn't long before Poo started struggling with weight issues.
That's what led him to his thirty-two pound ornamental status.
Good dog Pooter.

I have a fish.
One blue fish.
One blue fish that swims alone in a tank at the end of the room in a tank that glows green.
I never really wanted the fish but Six did and then when Six split he left the fish.
How long do fish live?
I'm totally over the fish.

not my fish but same blue fish and green water

Anyway, it's just interesting to me how our brains don't think of things like chewed left shoes, ripped couch cushions, anal glands, or custody of marine life after divorce.

I seriously never considered growing old and fat with a Shi-Tzu, yet here we are...

Peas.

Pink Eye and Bikini waxes

What a weekend...
I think I want to start spending my weekends in the Poconos.
Mind you I have no idea where the Poconos are but I've heard a lot of people talking about spending weekends there so I think I want to go too.
Especially if you don't have to do dumb stuff there like cook and clean.
6 got home Friday afternoon and after he got all his work junk done we had to go to town and buy him new pants and new shoes and then we refi'd the loan on the truck because we got our interest rate dropped which lowered our payment so we had to fill out all that paperwork and then get back to town to Fedex it back to the bank and then we had dinner and then it was to late to clean the mother clucking garage!!!!
I can't believe it.
I think he needs to just bite the bullet and go back to work for Safeway.
We figure if he had done that we he got home from Iraq we would be through the hardest part already.
See with Safeway you bid runs based on seniority and when he went to Iraq he lost his seniority so he might only work two days a week but the thing is he can make almost as much in two days as he can in a full week driving for anyone else AND he's home to take care of our falling down farm.
Seriously, there is so much that needs to be done and it seems like every week we don't get one thing done two things fall apart so I think he just needs to come home.
That of course means more cooking for me and having to sit in the uncomfortable chair but I guess I'll just have to learn to sacrifice.

Molly Mule has pink eye.

She has pink eye so she has to have drops twice a day, well I guess it isn't really drops it's a gel, but she loves having it done because she gets a marshmallow afterwards.

Mules love marshmallows.

So do donkeys.

And sheep.

And goats.

Little Judy is growing up before our very eyes.

I decided it's best not to create another monster like Belle, so I send her out with the big kids during the day instead of letting her stay in the house with me like Belle did.

Belle still barks from the barnyard when she wants out and thinks she should have a seat on the couch instead of a bed in the barn and gawd knows I can't have two like her.

Judy seems perfectly content to go out and tag along although I'm pretty sure the other three think she's a real pest. 

Pearl and Nanny both get really annoyed when she tries to nurse on them and Belle won't even let her get close.

We're meeting Wendy for dinner in town tonight.

She's getting really close to being done with her hours at school and has already passed her state boards.

You know it's a proud moment for a mother when her daughter completes the entire beauty school course.

I was just a mere manicurist and always dreamed of a better life for her.

The world is her oyster now and I think she has a very bright future in permanent waves and bikini waxes.

Peas

Kitchen Chaos

This morning as I was loading the dishwasher I did something so shocking I almost blew my own mind. I loaded the silverware heads up. Not just to be a rebel, but to see if there really is a difference in how clean the utensils get. See I was always a heads UP girl and then Trina said that was wrong because then you handle the heads on the way out which totally makes sense to me and add that to the fact that there is less risk of losing a finger or slicing your wrist open heads down but there has always been that nagging voice in me that says heads up.



My sister has a fancy pants dishwasher where the silverware lies on its side on its own shelf and I have anxiety even writing this because I don't get it. See there's a system to loading that kind of rack and if you're the kind of person that struggles with heads up heads down how can you possibly handle on its side in certain order.



I'm having a grit in the butt of my glasses issue with my washer too. I wonder what that's all about.

Now I'm going to tell you something that might make you decide you don't like me.

I'm going to share with you what a freak I am.

A few years ago 6 got me a set of Rachel Ray pots and pans but I gave them to his mother because Rachel Ray drives me nuts because she's always licking the corner of her mouth and I couldn't concentrate on cooking, all I could think about was Rachel Ray licking the corner of her mouth and I would end up a total basket case before dinner was even on the table.



Then my sister gave me a Rachel Ray cookbook and I had to pass that on too because the thought of her on the shelf in my kitchen licking the corner of her mouth was enough to give me fits.

There's more...

Shortly after I passed off the set of Rachel Ray pot lickers 6 got me a set of Paula Dean cookware (I wonder if he's a secret shopping channel watcher...) but I can't stand her either because she's so political and I don't want to be thinking about Paula's political opinions when I'm making a pot roast or no bake cookies. I really love her love of butter but hold the opinion please, if I want to know the state of the nation I'll turn on the news thank you very much.



So I've decided I'm going back to cast iron frying pans and Walmart Target Kmart garage sale pots.



OMG!

I always forget about the garage sale my Grampy left up in the barn, there's enough miscellaneous bits and pieces of this and thats up there to outfit seventy hundred kitchens!

I gotta put my boots on, I'm going shopping.

Doctors Schmoctors

I am SO frustrated! This whole doctor business is getting me down and when I think about all the money we've spent and all the time Wyatt has missed from school it's enough to get my panties in a knot. The money grubber doctor we saw yesterday is of the same mindset as the rheumatologist we saw a month ago. He wants to start Wyatt in their "special" physical therapy program at the hospital. He diagnosed it as RND which is apparently a disorder only recognized by a small number of doctors all trained under the same physician who discovered it. Convenient huh? So this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to sign us both up for the fat lady senior citizen water aerobics class at the pool. Low impact stretching right? Right. I'm going to buy one of those pedicure tubs and soak his foot and massage and stretch the tendons every night. He's just going to have work his way back to where he was. No hospitals, no scammers doctors, we can do it ourselves. I wonder if insurance would be willing to pay me a few hundred dollars an hour... Maybe if I explained to them how much money I'm saving them in the long run they would at least consider it. Here's the deal. I have seen the x-rays and I know there is no break or fracture. His bones are ok. He has very limited circulation in that foot, but they say it is from lack of movement. We can take care of that ourselves. Maybe I can come up with my own white trash treatment plan and have doctors refer their patients to me. Stretching would consist of weed eating and edging along the fence line. Muscle development would come from unloading feed sacks and rooster wrangling, and I could let people pet the donkeys and sit criss cross applesauce in the pasture with the goats and call it meditation therapy.  I would call it Body and Soul Rehabilitation or B.S Rehab for short. I think I'm on to something. Do you think I could get away with a "getting in touch with your aggression" therapy and have people "work" through their emotions by cleaning out the chicken coop? If someone really has issues they can clean out the pig house. I could start a "shock water" therapy class in the pond that would work you through your fears. Fear of getting caught up in old tree snags and the patio umbrella that blew in there twenty years ago.

Tomorrow is my Birthday and I'm having a sleepover with some friends. Well, technically they're Wyatt's friends and it's really just one friend but I'll still make them sing to me and I won't have to share my box of wine with them and after they go to bed I can finish off the cake by myself. I decided to give myself Weight Watchers this year because I'm tired of being a big fat fatty and then maybe for Christmas I'll be tall and thin and get myself a boob job. A girl can dream... Can't she?

Tomorrow I'll tell you a funny story about a black and white dog and a skunk.

TrailerParks Reporting

Do you ever wonder why the news networks are always referring to "bloggers" yet no one ever mentions us?

Just once I would like to hear Rick Sanchez from CNN say, and now to the blogs... It seems as though Mrs Parks from the TrailerParks Farm is quoted as saying, "Velveeta and RO*TEL, out of the Park and into the suburbs, it's what's for dinner"

I need to start my own cable network.

I'll call it WTN, White Trash Network.

All day long I'll feature recipes that real women make, cleaning tips that revolve around Costco wipes and Windex, and crafts made with nothing but hot glue, glitter and toilet paper tubes.

Soxy Deb has an idea for a new reality series entitled "Mike Swap."

If I had my own network, I would pick up her show and make the rules as follows... Anyone married to a Mike can participate and just for playing they get all their credit card bills paid off and their mortgage dropped two points.

I think I would even include a "Shared Information Hour" and choose Mike to host it.

I think I'm on to something BIG!




Stay tuned...

Mo' Money

I wish I could get a job.

I'm tired of always being broke.

I wonder if people with a lot of money appreciate having a lot of money.

I have worked since I was sixteen years old.

Worked hard, but I have never had to much money.

Mike works hard, but we never have to much money.

I wonder what you have to do to have to much money.

Let me think of someone who has to much money.

Oprah.

Oprah has enough money to give away AND go on vacation.

What does Oprah do?

Oprah talks to people.

I talk to people.

All day long.

Maybe I need to talk to more people.

I need to find more people to talk to before Christmas.

I need to get a camera crew and find more people to talk to by Christmas.

I should probably tweeze my eyebrows and wash my hair if I'm going to be talking to people.

I wonder how you raise a cash crop.

Or cash cows.

To bad there weren't cash chickens.

Or cash goats.

I'm going to go wash my hair and read the farmers Almanac.

Let me know if you have any ideas.

My Destiny

While I was jacked out of my mind on oxy, Jesus whispered in my ear and told me what my life's purpose was.

Besides being the wife of many and bearing two children.

Now I am going to share that purpose with you.

The TrailerParks Pumpkin Patch and Petting Zoo.

Imagine......

The front pasture filled with pumpkins to the right and plenty of free parking on the left.

A spiced cider stand that also offers seasonal gourds and cornstalks as well as treats for the critters at a mere .25 a bag.

Free pictures of your children available on the website if you agree to sign this release.

What do you think?

If it goes over well, we could plant Christmas trees up by the barn and tie reindeer horns on the livestalk.

Sell hot coco and Christmas tree branches.... what are they called?

Anyway, I know people buy them and you hang them on your door or put them on your mantle.

During Easter, we could have egg hunts and egg rolls featuring the actual chickens that made the eggs and we could tie rabbit ears to all the critters (except Carlos who grew his own) I'm telling you, the possibilities are endless....

Times up for today.

Political Pause

No blog today.

I am emotionally preparing for the train wreck debate tonight.

It should be interesting.

Operation Sleep Over Over

I am blessed to have a son who is shall we say in his own words "eccentric."

He has marched to the beat of his own drum since the day he got here, and I must say, it's a tune we can all dance to.

He was raised by his sister and I, and if you ask anyone who's met us they'll tell you our beat is a little off as well.

Wendy was fifteen almost sixteen when Wy was born and I was soon after single.

My Father had progressed stage cancer and I found myself back to work long days and caring for my dad full time, so a lot of the responsibility of Wyatt in his younger years was laid at Wendy's feet.

Wendy and all her teenage friends.

All girls.

Wyatt was brought up in an all girl world until just a few years ago.

Wyatt loves the ladies.

Wyatt's Dad is Jack.

Jack Ass for short.

We will go in to Jack another time, but a quick run down is this.

He is the biggest drunken illiterate red-neck you'd never want to lay eyes on.

No brains no tolerance.

Together we created Wyatt.

Wyatt is sensitive, creative, artistic, in touch, out of sight and just plain cool.

His Dad does not relate.

You can imagine how it went over when Wyatt at the age of three insisted on having a baby doll.

We took him to Target and not only did he choose his own baby, but he chose a black baby.

Baby NaiNai.

Wyatt loved baby NaiNai.

We loved Baby NaiNai.

His Dad. Not so much.

His dad. Lost his mind.

His Dad. Sent him home.

Would. Not. Let. Him. Stay. The. Night.

Ok, there's some Wy history which leads me to todays story.

Wyatt's best friend in the whole entire wide world is Shannon.

Best friends.

Ever.

They are in the same class, they talk on the phone every day, they are best friends.

Forever.

Wyatt had a sleep over last night and invited Shannon, her older sister who has to go everywhere Shannon goes, and Leighanne.

Shannon's Mom would not let Shannon and her sister stay the night.

They could spend the day, but not the night.

Leighanne could stay, but Shannon and Catherine could not.

The kids had a great time all day swimming, watching movies and playing outside.

We had pizza and popcorn for dinner.

I thought Wyatt and Shannon were going to cry when it was time to take her home.

Then there's this.

Leighanne was adopted by her Grandparents who are of appropriate Grandparent age.

When Leighannes Pappa said to her Memaw, "She's go'in to spend the night with a boy?"

Her Mem said, "Pa, it's 2008!"

Ya, duh.

It's 2008.

Even a Grandma gets it.

What do you think?

Am I weird to think it's ok?

Is Mem wrong to tell Pa it's ok?

Would you let your nine year old have a co-ed supervised sleep over?

Marshmallows and Gin

I want you to imagine for a minute some of the things you would want to have with you if you were stranded on a deserted Island all by yourself for a month.

Don't say what you think you should say like your kids or your husband.

This is you on a deserted Island  (with electricity...don't question me) for an entire month.

Here's some of the things I would want.

1. Really super good strong coffee with heavy cream and real sugar.

2. Marshmallows. Not the minis, full size.

3. A brand new straight from the zippered bag 100% cotton down comforter. You never know but the nights might get chilly.

4. All of the books I have been wanting to read. All of them hardback.

5.  Gnocchi Gorgonzola.

6. Gin. I don't usually drink, but if I'm on an Island alone with no responsibility, I'll drink till I'm soaked.

     

I think that's it.

I reserve the right to come and edit this list at any time