Playing Hooky

April 23, 2013 by Kelli

Image taken by Avodah Images.com

Today, this girl and I are blowing off school and heading to Busch Gardens. We could have done this after school, or on Saturday, but there’s something about skipping school to have a fun day with Mom that’s extra special.

Sometimes playing hooky is the right thing to do.

Sometimes they need you all to themselves.

Sometimes they need to know that time spent alone with Mom is fleeting and special and a little bit exciting.

Sometimes they just need to see that building a memory is more important than reviewing spelling words.

Sometimes playing hooky is right because I want them all to know that family is fun and life is an adventure and it’s okay to get away now and again for no other reason than just to have a good laugh. I also want them to know that this is not something that we do all the time and it’s only to be done with Mom and Dad’s blessing and involvement.

Sometimes you just need a break. Today I get my break with her and her alone and we are both giddy with excitement.

What are you up to today?

Filed Under: Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: Busch Gardens, Kids, Life, Motherhood, Playing Hooky

Catching water in your hands

April 9, 2013 by Kelli

“Now you will have noticed that nothing throws [man] into a passion so easily as to find a tract of time which he reckoned on having at his own disposal unexpectedly taken from him…[This] angers him because he regards his time as his own and feels that it is being stolen. You must therefore zealously guard in his mind the curious assumption ‘My time is my own.’ Let him have the feeling that he starts each day as the lawful possessor of twenty-four hours.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

This curious assumption of time is a topic that is not unfamiliar to anyone, least of all the mother of three young children. Time is a curious mystery, fleeting and entirely elusive, yet ever constant and unchanging. Each day allots the same amount of time in which to operate, but it often feels as though time slips right through our fingers like a gush of water.

Lee first read this passage to me late one evening. We were laying in bed and I was trying to do something wildly important like read Facebook statuses and catch up on blogs. My husband, on the other hand, was trying to improve his mind by reading an actual book.

(You remember books, don’t you? They’re made of paper and bound together so that you have to physically turn each page in order to find out what happens next. Fascinating contraptions…)

As he read, he would put his arm on mine and go, “Ooohhh…listen to this.” It was cute the first time, endearing the second time, annoying the third time and so on. He was interrupting my quiet time – my time at the end of the day when I can turn my brain off and waste time without guilt. Could he not see the reverence and near holiness of my solitude?

It was at this point he read me the above passage that made me stop and think. Do I regard myself the lawful possessor of twenty-four hours? I believe that I do!

How has this attitude affected my life and the lives of the people around me?

I will confess that there are few things that irk me more than my kids waltzing in and interrupting me when I am alone. I feel immediately violated and ridiculously offended at their assumption that they can just come in and make demands of me when I am clearly having a moment to myself.

How dare you want food, water, love, attention?!

Shame on me.

“You (the demon, Wormwood, who is tasked with tempting this particular man) have here a delicate task. The assumption which you want him to go on making is so absurd that, if once it is questioned, even we cannot find a shred of argument in its defense. The man can neither make, nor retain, one moment of time; it all comes to him by pure gift; he might as well regard the sun and moon as his chattels.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

Time is a gift. Every moment of every day is purely a gift. None of it is mine and I have no right to claim possession of a single moment. What I do in each moment is a reflection of how grateful I am for this ever changing, moving and fleeting gift.

Does this mean I shouldn’t guard some time to be alone? Absolutely not. A healthy mother knows to teach her children the importance of granting her time alone. Time spent away from children strengthens every parent and should be taken regularly.

Time together with my husband is not to be interrupted and I guard it as jealously as I can because this is a healthy use of my time. This is using the gift I’ve been given wisely.

But when the time does get interrupted, what is my reaction? Many times, I confess it is not a holy reaction. As C.S. Lewis wrote so beautifully in this same letter from the demon Screwtape, “The more claims on life, therefore, that your patient [man] can be induced to make, the more often he will feel injured and, as a result, ill-tempered.”

So what is my reaction? Well, more times than not, it is ill-tempered and that makes me sad, because such an attitude toward life is, I believe, what makes life often feel so fleeting.

If I recognize time as a gift and do not hold firm the belief that I am the lawful possessor of my moments, I can react graciously when time is interrupted – when random hugs need to be given while I’m working on a blog post, or the phone rings when I’m working on my book – when a neighbor knocks on the door while we’re eating dinner, or my husband wants to read to me while I’m trying to shut down for the evening.

What’s more, when I regard time as a gift, I will be able to use my time to bless others. When I’m less focused on time being my own then I can help those who need my help and do so in a way that makes them feel important and not so much like they were an interruption.

If I embrace each moment as a gift, I am more likely to live for the moment, to love in the moment, to bless in the moment and maybe every once in a while, I could catch a moment in my hand and hold it for a lifetime.

Filed Under: faith, Grace, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: C.S. Lewis, faith, Grace, Motherhood, Raising children, The Scretape Letters, Time

Mom of the Year 2013 – Not Looking Good

March 21, 2013 by Kelli

Alternately titled:

I’m here to make you all feel better about yourselves

Photo by Avodah Images.com

We’ve had a blustery couple of weeks here in the Sunshine State. I love Florida in March simply because it’s unpredictable…but unpredictable in a good way. It can be warm and sunny one day and cold and windy the next, but by warm I mean 85 degrees and by cold I mean 55 degrees.

In case you were wondering, that is the perfect range of temperatures. It means that many days we have stretches of time where we hang out in the upper ’60’s/lower ’70’s, which I’m fairly certain is the temperature heaven will be set at. An eternity of 75 degrees.

Yes, please.

But this story isn’t about the weather. Oh, no. It is about my stellar mothering skillz. I spelled skillz with a ‘z’ so you’d really get a feel for just how much I’m rockin’ this Mommy gig.

Like any good mother, when the temperature dips below 60 degrees, I insist on pants and at minimum a light sweatshirt. This is becoming increasingly more difficult to keep up with because my kids don’t own many pants anymore since we only need them about 15 days a year.

But this post isn’t about pants, either. Well…not entirely.

It was a cold morning a few weeks ago, so I grabbed a pair of sweat pants out of Landon’s drawer. He is my child who hates wearing pants…and shoes…and underwear. He likes freedom. You can’t fault a kid for it, right?

We put on his pants and a t-shirt, then did all our morning activities. I had to actually get myself ready that morning as I was meeting a friend after I dropped Landon off, so it was a little more hectic than usual. We finally hopped in the car and drove quickly to his preschool.

Just as I pulled into the preschool parking lot, Landon pipes up from the back. “Oh no! Mommy! My pants!” I pull in and park and turn around to see what the problem is and almost choke on my own spit.

The crotch of his pants was caked in dried Nutella. It was half an inch thick and ran from the middle of his crotch down to the middle of his thighs. Dark, dry chocolate.

Now, after I got over lamenting what was an apparent waste of perfectly good Nutella, I asked Landon how on Earth that happened…and when.

“‘Member the other day when you gave me Nutella on bread and I accidentally sat on it?” He asked. No son. I DO NOT REMEMBER THIS!

“Well why were your pants in your drawer, then?” I asked.

“You told me to clean my room,” came his answer. “I just was putting everything where it goes like you said.”

People, this kid. This child of mine. Between his round face, his freckles and his love of snuggles, I’m pretty sure he will get anything out of me that he wants. Ever. I can’t get mad at him. Plus, he had a point. I did tell him to put everything where it goes.

Clearly I need to be more specific about where dirty clothes go.

I jumped out of the car and searched frantically to see if I by chance had a spare pair of pants or shorts anywhere inside. I had a half-empty bag of Cheezits, four single socks (of course), three pairs of shoes, a tennis ball and what I think may have been a ham sandwich at some point, but no pants.

School was about to start and I had to meet my friend, so I walked Landon in and told him to sit on his knees, not sit cross legged. As long as he kept his legs together no one would see. But as I left, I knew I couldn’t leave him in those pants all day. All it would take was one forgotten Criss Cross Apple Sauce and I had visions of him forever labeled as Poopy Pants Landon.

Because Nutella looks delicious on bread, but dried and crusted on a pair of grey sweatpants is a whole different story.

Thankfully, mercifully, Lee was in town that day and on his way home from having his oil changed. I called him and tried to be all cool and casual. “Hey Babe. So, can you swing by Target and buy Landon a pair of pants…and then drop them off at school?”

Lee: “Do I want to ask?”

Me: “Probably not.”

And THAT, my friends, is the day I lost my place in line as Mom of the Year. I think I solidified my low ranking this week when I got a text at 6:55 from Sloan’s baseball coach asking if we were going to make it to the 7:00 game.

See? Skillz.

Filed Under: Family, Florida, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Landon, Motherhood Tagged With: Bad Mom, Because I'm That Awesome, MAd Mothering Skillz, Mom of the Year 2013, Nutella on Pants

Bearing with one another

March 19, 2013 by Kelli

There is a lot of talk these days about social media, technology and the effect that it will have on our children. They are the first generation to grow up under a microscope and with the world at their fingertips, it’s a legimite dialogue. How do we keep our children engaged in real life? How do we teach them to utilize technology to their favor and not to their disadvantage?

How do we show them that the world is real and yet still give them all the tools of expansion that technology provides?

It’s a constant battle and our children will have to learn to navigate life in a way that most of us who grew up without the internet, blogging and smart phones never even had to consider. But I think there’s something that we’ve missed and there is a dialogue that has been brought up less frequently that needs to be considered.

We are the first generation of mothers who are letting our lives play out online.

This is an entirely new world for us, just as it is for our children and we are navigating motherhood under a microscope in ways that no generation before has ever done. Yes, it is mostly by our choice, but even those who abstain from documenting the day to day are affected by this world of online motherhood.

We’re all learning how to walk this journey together, but I wonder what kind of example we’re setting for the young mothers coming up behind us, not to mention for our own daughters who are watching and learning. This thought alone has given me a lot of pause in recent months. It’s why I’ve blogged less and held my cards a little closer to my chest.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to blend this technology with motherhood in a way that is healthy not only for me, but for those who are watching and learning. I didn’t have an example of how to do this – I am the example.

As mothers, and women, our natural instinct seems to always gravitate toward judgement – judgement of ourselves and of those who do things differently. This tendency is not new to our generation, of course. This ability to judge others, both negatively and positively, is part of the make-up of womanhood. Blame it on estrogen, I guess, but we are prone to gossip and judgement and that is a fact that cannot be denied.

Before us, these tendencies were confined to the playground or water coolers or the sideliens of the soccer games – whereever mothers congregated in packs, there was always the opportunity to share a tidbit, to vent a frustration, to share insecurities. Mothers lived out their offenses on a much smaller scale.

But now, these grievances are aired in such a public way that it leaves me concerned. I worry about what the young ones behind us are seeing and I wonder how my contribution to the noise might be affecting their perception of others and of the world around them.

The problem is, we are all different and different things will rub us all the wrong way. It must be very confusing for first time moms to figure out what should upset them and what shouldn’t. This viral post tells them to get their eyes off the iPhone, while that one tells them it’s okay. This Facebook post tells them to be upset when someone urges them to enjoy every moment with their kids because it goes by fast, but that Facebook post tells them it’s true! It does go by fast! You should enjoy the little moments.

This post says be upset if someone asks you if you are going to try for a boy/girl, if you are going to breastfeed, if you are going to homeschool or public school or private school and on and on the list could go. Every post written has a different one that contradicts it. The older generation must now walk on pins and needles lest they upset us young moms with our fast fingers, constantly ready to tell the world how offended we are.

It’s noisy, isn’t it? And I’ve contributed to the noise in my own way. But more and more I’m learning to just accept people for who they are. I’ve found that 99.9% of the time, people don’t mean to be offensive so I’m working on giving the benefit of the doubt and moving on knowing that my way won’t be the same as her way and that is okay!

Can I, perhaps, offer a bit of encouragement to us all? Let us not be so easily offended. Let us not feel the need to publicly correct every stranger who says something that rubs us the wrong way. Let us try harder to give one another the benefit of the doubt.

What if we spent less time getting offended by others and more time simply loving one another? How would that look online? If a woman at the grocery store comments on our number of children, or asks if we “know what causes that” *wink, wink* what if we just smiled, thanked her for her interest in our family and moved on…without sharing it online? What if we bore with one another patiently, knowing that sometimes people say things that bother us not to be offensive, but simply because we are all different and are affected by different things?

I don’t know how good I am at this business of bearing with one another, but I’m learning. Even writing this post, I wonder if I’m helping the problem or perpetuating it. But my heart is to encourage myself, and all of us, to think before we type.

Because we’re being watched and we are the first to walk on this particular path of motherhood. Let’s show the generations to come how to do it well.

Filed Under: Blogging, Grace, Motherhood Tagged With: Bear with one another, Grace, Motherhood, Technology

To Mother – with love

March 5, 2013 by Kelli

“At the very least, they (man) can be persuaded that the bodily position makes no difference to their prayers; for they constantly forget, what you must always remember, that they are animals and that whatever their bodies do affects their souls. It is funny how mortals always picture us as putting things in their minds: in reality our best work is done by keeping things out.” C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters, Letter #4

Two weeks ago, I pulled out the final box. Nearly eighteen months in our home and this one box sat in the office closet, taunting me with the unpacked contents. I lifted each item from inside the brown cardboard and carefully decided whether to keep or purge. As I pulled out the final photo album, I looked down to see a single, red book.

It was thin and hard bound, the binding worn just slightly. As I picked it up, I inhaled deep the smell of history. I don’t ever remember seeing this book and as I turned to see what treasure I had just uncovered, I drew in a sharp breath.

The Screwtape Letters. C. S. Lewis.

I sat down in my plush yellow chair and slowly opened the book. It smelled musty and worn. The pages were crisp and yellowed. Opening the cover, I noticed the inscription:

To Mother,

On this Mother’s Day – with love

Fred

5-11-46

Purchased and gifted with love in 1946 by a man who wanted to give his mother something special on Mother’s Day. I ran my fingers over each page and wondered what stories this book held. Bought at the end of the World War II, a subject and piece of history that consumes most of my days right now as I finish my novel, this particular copy has a story.

A story for Mother.

Read the rest at Kelli Stuart.com

Filed Under: faith, Grace, Motherhood Tagged With: C.S. Lewis, Motherhood, prayer, The Screwtape Letters

The Minivan Mom’s Guide to Awesome Hair

February 28, 2013 by Kelli

Forgive the oversized sweatshirt. It was cold outside (Florida cold...60 degrees...and I didn't feel like changing.)

Most of my days consist of multiple hours inside the belly of my minivan shuttling children to baseball, gymnastics, school or friend’s homes. If I’m super lucky, I might get to go to the grocery store sometimes or, as is the case today, I get to make a hefty drop at the local Goodwill thanks to one of my children who could easily occupy an entire episode of Hoarders single-handedly.

This hectic schedule leaves little time for hair care, which is one of the reasons I have so loved having my hair short. I have all but mastered the fashionable bed head and when I’m really on my game, I add the hot pink highlights to give my hair a little bit of edge.

Because I am sooooo edgy.

Yo…

Alas, maintaining awesome hair is a greater challenge than most of us care to admit. I’ll be totally honest and tell you I have no idea what color my hair is anymore. If I had to guess, I’d label it dirty dishwater. It is neither blonde nor brown thanks to years of abuse and the hormones that come with birthing three children. So I pay someone to help a Mama out and give my hair some much needed TLC.

At least, that’s what I do when I have time. But if you’ll re-read paragraph one, you’ll understand that getting myself to a salon for three hours to have my hair loved on is not always easy or feasible. I haven’t had anyone sprinkle magic pixie dust (i.e. Redken Hair Dye) on my hair since before Christmas. Nor have I had it cut.

I’m in a bad place, friends. A bad, bad place.

So, what’s a busy Minivan Mom to do when life gets too busy to take care of her hair?

Buy. A. Headband.

Or four.

I’ve found that wide headbands worn high up on the head are an excellent way to mask those painful roots that give my hair the perpetual appearance of filth. I recently bought two headbands like the one I’m wearing in these pictures at Sam Moon in Dallas.

I love them.

I greet them in the morning with a chipper, “Hey there, lovlies.” And as a reward for my encouragement, they keep me from looking a hot mess.

The good news is I only have to wait one more day before having something done with the sad, pitiful mop on top of my head. Tomorrow, my hair lady will work her magic with scissors and a bit of color (Pink!). But my love of the headband will not waver.

In fact, yesterday I bought two new headbands from O Sweet Joy. I got The Collette in both sour apple and raspberry. Aren’t they the cutest little head wraps you’ve ever seen? (If you go to Kacia’s site, Coconut Robot, you can snag a discount code!)

(And after you snag the discount code, check out the giveaway Kacia is hosting today for Noonday, an AMAZING organization that works to advocate for the orphan by providing jobs so families can provide for their children, raising funds for adoption and so much more. I love what they’re doing and their jewelry is Gorgeous with a capital ‘G’!)

So, back to my original premise for the post: How does a Minivan Mom keep her hair looking awesome? By investing a little time into a good cut and color, of course. However, when time (and funds) do not permit such an investment, then the smart Minivan Mom fakes it. She invests in a few good headbands, puts on a little extra makeup and keeps things sassy until that next miraculous moment when she can sit her behind in a chair at the salon and let them work their magic.

And we all said together…

Amen.

(PS – To the men who read my blog (and I know there are several of you out there…don’t try and hide it) – I apologize for what was likely a very boring read. I hate for you to feel left out, so please feel free to share with us any tips you have for maintaing your hip Minivan Dad edge. *wink*)

Filed Under: Minivans, Motherhood, Random, Together in 10 Tagged With: Coconut Robot, Maintaing Awesome Hair, Minivan Mom, O Sweet Joy, Stuff I Love

Not for the faint of heart

February 25, 2013 by Kelli

Photo by Jenni at Avodah Images.com

I walked in the door after a beautiful weekend away and kissed their sweet, sweaty faces. They’d been outside running, playing, relishing in all that is childhood. They looked like children who were having a grand old time.

In short, they were filthy. So I suggested a shower. Crazy, right? I know!!

Here’s the thing – generally we do not make our children shower every night. It’s a pain, they don’t like it and I can handle a little bit of dirt and slightly crusty hair for a few days in a row. However, when they play outside for hours without shoes on (yes, I am raising those kids) I generally think it entirely reasonable to have them jump under the running water long enough to bring their feet back to a normal peachy color and less…blackened by mud.

But I was unaware of the fact that showers were taken the night before and the night before that and oh you’d think I’d come home with a whip in hand and walked through the door cracking it. There was weeping, gnashing of teeth, glares that could easily turn one into a pillar of salt. The horror of suggesting a shower for a third night in a row.

BOOOOOO MOMMY!

Welcome to parenthood, right? You attend a conference established to encourage and refresh you in the journey, you come home armed with loved and gratefulness for the small ones lent to you for this lifetime and you prepare yourself for a sweet reunion complete with kisses, snuggles and giggles. It will be a beautiful time as they gather around you, sitting quietly with hands folded sweetly in their laps, their hair clean and slicked to the side.

“Tell us about your weekend, Mother,” they will say, all sugary and precious. “Tell us more about how truly wonderful you are going to be from here on out. Tell us how magical life will be now that you have been blessed with so much knowledge and wisdom.”

(Side note: You should read the above dialogue in a British accent because it sounds a lot cooler and gives a better dramatic punch. Just give a try…)

(See what I mean?)

You imagine that surely your job will be easier now, because you’ve just learned how to be a better mom. You’ve just learned how to love them more graciously. You have new tools in your arsenal to build them up and point them toward their full potential.

Unfortunately, the kids don’t get the memo about all of that. They go on acting like…kids. They haven’t become the perfect little robots that will make your job a walk in the proverbial park. It’s like a cruel, cruel joke.

Does this happen to anyone else? Is it just me? I hope not, because within fifteen minutes of being with my children last night I was already completely fed up. It was all I had in me not to point my finger, grit my teeth and mutter, “Look, kid. I just learned how to be the best mom I can be and you’re in here making it difficult. Be nice so I can be AWESOME.”

I didn’t say that, of course.

Out loud.

We finally got them in bed (with only two actually showered and one with clean feet after we comprimised and wiped them down with a wet rag) and I collapsed on the couch and looked wide-eyed at Lee, my eyes conveying every emotion and frustration I felt. I’m home fifteen minutes and I already want to cuss? Hellooooo real life! Thanks for smacking me in the face.

Lee smiled, winked and patted me softly on the shoulder. “Welcome home,” he said with a grin and I could hear the chuckle in his voice.

Parenting. Not for the faint of heart. At all.

At. Freaking. All.

Can I get an amen?!

Filed Under: Family, funny stuff that happens, Kids, Life, Motherhood Tagged With: Motherhood, Motherhood is hard, parenting, Raising children

What I Miss Most About Homeschooling

February 20, 2013 by Kelli

Books. I miss reading good books with my kids – those exciting stories that suck you in and leave you breathless for more. I love reading to my kids. Did you know I was a musical theater major before switching to Professional Writing? Trust me – this Mama knows how to bring a book to life.

There isn’t nearly enough time these days to read the really good books. With their required school reading, they are so busy trying to make their RP (or AR) reading goals that they don’t have time to get lost in the really good books. Especially because reading has not come easily for either of my older two. (Landon is proving to be a much better reader. He’s catching on faster than the other two did.) Because reading is tough, I like to read to them. I want them to see the world open up inside their imaginations.

Good books do that, don’t they? They introduce a life and a character that is so glorious and real that you feel as though you know them. I want my kids to feel a sense of loss when they lay a book down after finishing it. Right now, the best way to introduce that feeling to them is to read to them…when we have time.

We don’t have time to work on their Russian language anymore, either. I’m relegated to 20 minutes a day because it’s all I feel I can ask from them after a long day at school.

This makes me sad. This makes me miss homeschooling more than anything. Yes, there are things about school I have really enjoyed and there are areas where I can see they have thrived. And yes, there are things about homeschooling I have not missed even a little bit (Math, Science, the pressure).

But it doesn’t change the fact that I miss the freedom I had with my kids when I had them home. For now, they are in a good place, but it doesn’t make me miss it less.

Some parenting decision are made and they feel really right. Some are made and you immediately know they’re wrong. And others are made that are neither right nor wrong – they just are. Schooling feels like that for me – for our family. Putting the kids in school was neither right nor was it wrong. It was just the decision we felt like we needed to make. There are pros and cons to both scenarios and I think every year we will weigh all of our options. Because that’s what you do when you have these small ones to raise.

You make decisions that are hard then you move forward in confidence that it will all work out in the end.

Parenting…it’s not for the faint of heart, you know?

What’s a hard parenting decision you’ve made – one that didn’t necessarily feel right or wrong, but just a decision that needed to be made?

Filed Under: books, Homeschool, Kids, Motherhood Tagged With: Good Literature for kids, Kids and school, parenting, Pros and Cons of Homeschooling

I’m all out of awesome

February 6, 2013 by Kelli

I had two great posts rolling through my head today. Seriously, they were so good. They were sure to have you rolling on the floor in laughter (ROFL?)

(NO!)

You would definately laugh out loud. (LOL?)

(*groan* PLEASE NO!)

It’s just too bad I can’t remember what they were. No kidding. I had two entire posts almost completely composed in my head. All I had to do was get them from my brain to the computer, but something sucked them out into the void of nothingness before I could make that happen.

I blame the kids.

And the song Gangnum Style, which Sloan sings 24/7 right now. And the dog because she stares at me all day long with her ears pinned back and her eyes all big and cartooney, which she knows leaves me in a heap of guilt until I finally walk her.

I can literally walk from one room to the next these days and forget why I was headed there. Should I be worried?

Don’t answer that…

You know what’s awesome when you have fried mom brain? Third grade math home work. FRACTIONS! That’s what I need, folks. I need fractions to cure my inability to function in life.

NO I DO NOT NEED FRACTIONS! I DO NOT!

Sloan brought home his homework today and was all, “Mom I don’t get it and I’m going to get a bad grade so heeelllllppppp meeeeee…”

I took one look at the paper and then my head exploded. Fractions?! I didn’t cover those until sixth grade and even then, I never really learned them. We moved from Wisconsin to St. Louis toward the end of sixth grade. The school I left was just starting fractions. The school I started had already covered them.

Guess who never quite got it?

Did you know that 5/8 is a fraction greater than 1? Well its not. I thought it was, but I’ve been informed in the comments that it isn’t, which was originally what I thought but then Sloan convinced me it WAS.

I am in math purgatory…I had to text a photo of the problem to Lee (who is out of town) and my dad with an SOS because Sloan was all “OMG (NONONO!!!) I’m going to get a bad grade.” And the math paper was all “Write a mixed number AND a fraction greater than one for the part shaded.”

And I was all “Where’s the liquor?”

Just kidding. I didn’t say that out loud…

It would be super duper if they would send home the books in cases like this. If I just had an explanation of all of this written down so I could see what exactly they mean when they say “mixed number” it would help immensely. When I homeschooled last year, I slept with the teacher’s math manual. We spooned at night. It was all that got me through the year.

Well that and wine.

I’m kidding!

(sort of…)

But now? Now they just send home obscure pieces of paper with problems meant to twist and turn this mom brain all to pieces and make me want to write in large red letters across the bottom of the page:

YOU KNOW THAT STEREOTYPE OF GIRLS NOT EXCELLING IN MATH SIMPLY BECAUSE THEY ARE FEMALE?! THAT’S ME. I AM THE STEREOTYPE!

But I don’t write that. I simply write the teacher an email asking her to go over this a little more with Sloan at school and oh by the way, can you explain it to me? LOL…

(Just kidding. I didn’t write LOL. I just can’t bring myself to do it…)

And now I’m sitting here on the couch telling you a story about how I almost had an awesome post for you to read tonight. But I lost it because the truth is, I’m all out of awesome. There are only a few brain cells firing and they aren’t operating on all cylinders.

I think I need Lee to come back to town. 4COL

(For Crying Out Loud)

(I looked up texting acronymns for the purpose of writing this post.)

(You know what I learned? Text language is stupid.)

(Says the girl who can’t remember what she ate for lunch today.)

I think it’s time for bed, yo? AAK (Asleep At The Keyboard)

Okay seriously, I need to stop.