Category Archives: Funny Stuff

I need to go back to bed.

It literally hasn’t stopped this morning. One thing after another. I’m already sick, I don’t need this extra… stuff happening to me.

So I woke up today, feeling a little better. Let me recap – Thursday I went to Jackson with my Aunt to go to the Apple Store to get my phone looked at. Got my phone replaced and then we stopped at a flea market.

An Indoor/Outdoor flea market. I was walking around, found some AWESOME chairs for my living room, but started feeling really terrible. My throat started hurting on the way up.

Anyway – got home started feeling worse. Took my temp… 99. So I laid down. Normally, when you lay down and nap for a couple of hours, your temp decreases. Mine upon waking was 100.8. Not good.

So I took some tylenol and got up. Ended up going back to bed in a hour or so. Friday was better. Didn’t do much but lay around. Made myself some comfort food (chicken and dumplins… home made… mmm….). Its bad when you’re sick and you have to make your own sick food. Anyways… I did and just relaxed. Then last night the chills started again. I thought it would be over by now. Wes’ brother Paul got this last weekend and said his only lasted like a day and a half.

Anyway…. on to this morning. Lucy slept alright last night. For the first time ever I really let her cry it out. Why? How? How could I dare let her cry? Well.. for one.. I knew what kind of cry it was. It wasn’t real. There were no tears. It was wails of protest. I couldn’t keep rocking her, I was dizzy from the fever and I had already rocked her to sleep once. She fell back asleep within about 20 minutes.

I was doing good.. and then it hit me… The hot flashes. I ended up getting up around 10:30 because I couldn’t just lay there in that heat. I took a luke warm shower that didn’t help any. I went back to bed. Then, I realized I was starving because I had eaten “lunch” at like 3, and had no dinner, so I made me a bowl of cereal.

After the cereal, I was good. I fell asleep just fine. Woke up this morning at about 7 to a little girl who was hungry because she fell asleep the night before at about 7. Anyways, I got up, fed her and was about to lay her down (I wasn’t ready to get up yet)… and she popped open her little eyes and I knew a protest was coming. So, instead I just walked her into our bedroom and laid her down between us. Wes got up and while me and my sweet daughter were cuddling so well…

[Warning – Graphic description follows. If you have a queasy stomach, skip down.]

She vomited. ALL OVER ME. White milky vomit. Literally, from the middle of my chest to the middle of my back, all over my left arm, and down to my waist. It was warm, then cold, then sticky. (Like those details huh? – Hey – no one said you had to read it.)

[Graphicness is over.. you’re ok]

So, I screamed for Wes. He came and got her to clean her up. I took my dripping shirt off and jumped in the shower. There was no wet washcloth that could have helped me. Ugh. So then, I’m clean, Lucy’s clean, the sheet are off the bed, all is getting better.

Wes is in the living room, Lucy is with him, watching him eat a pop tart, I’m sitting on our chaise, watching Lucy. Then I hear a sound. A velcro sound. And I look.

Lucy has taken her diaper off.

[Warning – Graphic description follows]

Then she precedes to wave around her diaper liner that has a huge poop in it.

Yeah. Poop is being swirled around like a helicopter by my one year old. Luckily, those liners work well and no poop was slung on anything in my house… Until…

I grab Lucy up quick because I’m trying to keep her away from throwing poop on me, or my leather couches or my 40″ TV and Wes says, “There’s a chunk on her butt!” So, now, my sweet little one year old, drops the poop liner, and I grab her, trying to run into the back to clean her up, and she starts kicking her legs like she’s trying to swim.

All the little chunks of poop fell off.

Onto my floor.

Yep.

[Graphic stuff stops.]

So basically, by 8 am, I had dealt with vomit and feces. Nice wake up call huh?

At least this kid is cute.

Teacher VS. Zookeeper

I’ve been teaching teenagers for three and a half years. I don’t know all there is to know about teaching, but I do know some things. I know that every time I tell people that I teach teenagers, I get strange looks which are usually followed with, “I could never teach that age.” I don’t mind it. But I will say this – my job is very much like another job.

Zookeeper. Here’s 10 similarities between Teacher and Zookeepers.

1. Zookeepers have to observe the animals and note changes in their behavior.
Teachers have to observe the students and note changes in their behavior. And teaching teenagers, you can guarantee that you will see a range of behaviors.

2. Zookeepers have to keep the animals from fighting.
Since I have been teaching, I have heard about 7 fights, seen three of them, and had 2 in my class room. I have never had anything happen to me when I just knew that my only answer was to actually hit someone in the face. My kids, apparently, have.

3. Zookeepers have to make sure the animals get fed.
If I told you how much food the kids consume – you would not believe me. Literally – girls weighing 85lbs eating 4 bags of chips and 2 sodas, PER DAY. They are bottomless pits.

4. Zookeepers can’t understand the animals.
I seriously have students that I have to look at them and make them face me just to understand PART of what they are saying. I usually catch on about the fourth time. They mumble. A lot.

5. Zookeepers have to keep their cages clean, and full of toys that will entertain the animals.
My room is probably one of the cleanest in our building. But – I do always find an extra notebook or a wad of gum wrappers from time to time. If I leave it, just like animals, the next set of students will play with it and leave a bigger mess. Kind of like a rat. They’ll build a pile of garbage.

6. Zookeepers know when the moon is full.
I used to think this was crock. Having taught for a few years – I can tell you when the moon phase changes. They do act different. When the moon is fuller- so are their attitudes.

7. Zookeepers have to keep the animals from mating.
Since I have been at school, I have heard about (thank goodness I’ve never actually seen) SEVERAL acts of “love” being played out at school. We can’t leave doors unlocked, or we’ll find students trying to maintain their species.

8. Zookeepers have to prevent stampedes.
You would think that the bell sound meant free money with the way the kids run out of the class rooms. I’m surprised that we haven’t had any casualties.

9. Zookeepers have to be careful, because some of their animals can hurt them.
We had a student this year throw a wrench at a teacher’s office and shattered a window. Another student took a table leg to a teacher’s truck. Not kidding. Some of these kids are more unpredictable than an elephant.

10. Zookeepers love their job.
I know I talk about how excited I am about not working, but if I had to choose a job to do – it would be this one. Every day is different, and the kids make me laugh. Literally. Teenagers are very funny. Sometimes they mean to be funny, most of the time, they don’t and still are. And I have never had to help a kid go to the bathroom, or blow their nose or anything like that. With all their drama aside, they are fun to teach.

I am glad to be going home to my little girl, but I will miss some parts of teaching.

FMS: Dead Armadillo

As a (relatively) new mom, you know, I don’t always get the best sleep. Most nights I’m up at the very least, once, usually twice. I have to get up and care for a tiny individual whom I love more than life itself. I’m okay with it, but being tired for 10 months straight, sorta wears on a person.

I’ve always liked my sleep. Let me say that first. It is a necessity for me. Before I was pregnant – I needed at LEAST eight hours. At least. And that’s just to not be mean to people. To feel real good, I’d prefer 10 hours. But- I never got 10, except on some weekends.

So you would expect, me, that needs 8 hours, who is getting, oh, we’ll say about 4 a night, would call sleep… precious. It is precious to me. I love it. And I miss it.

And I want to hurt things that take it from me.

But the main thing taking my precious sweet sleep, is my precious sweet daughter, who wakes up hungry, or scared, and I wouldn’t dare hurt a hair on her little bald head.

But what if… what if, something else took my sleep from me… Would I hold up my end of wanting to hurt it?

In a word?

YES.

Night before last, I was sleeping good in my bed. Lucy has been on a sleeping-all-night-streak of 2 nights. This was night 3, can she do it? So far, so good.

It was about 2:45 when I woke up to my husband at the foot of my bed, shining a flashlight toward me. Well.. not exactly toward me, but it did flash me once and so I woke up. Wes heard a mouse under the bed. Dangit. There goes my sleep.

He looks, and finds nothing. So he gets back in bed. In about 3 seconds, we hear it again. So we both get up and look. Nothing. This little dude is quick and smart. So then it seems to get louder (once we’re back in the bed with all the lights off, of course). And so I get up, and I get on the floor, and start listening. Its not under the bed. Its under the house. And its not a mouse. It’s probably that possum that got in our trash the other day.

Darn you Possum, DARN YOU!

This thing is rooting, and bumping into pipes, and grunting, and making all kinds of noises perfect for keeping me awake. So I put on Pandora, Avett Brother’s station, and try and listen to that instead of the apparent party going on under my house.

But, no… He doesn’t stop. So Finally, I catch a glimpse of him from the window. Not Mr. Possum, nope. It’s his good buddy, Mr. Armadillo.

Now, as most of you know, I LOVE animals. I do. When I was a kid, literally, I wanted my house to look like Noah’s Ark. My mom once took me to the zoo, and said a baby hippo or something was ugly, and I looked up at her and said, “I’m sure some people think I’m ugly, but you still love me, and I’m sure his mamma loves him too.” I felt for them.

But, you also know… I love my sleep.

I love my sleep.

And my sleep is hard to come by these days.

I gave him ample time to stop. At least 30 minutes. And he wouldn’t quit.

So I told Wes to go shoot him. And Wes said, “You want my gun?”

YES. I do.

So, in my T-shirt, and dress sandals, I went outside with a mini flashlight and a .40 Cal pistol. Wes reminds me to cock the pistol before I shoot it.

No problem.

I walk around to the back of my house and shine a light. Nothing. I hear him though, under my house.

I then hear Wes shout from inside, “Don’t shoot toward the house.. haha.. haha..”

I know that. I’m not going to. Wes doesn’t think I’m going to shoot the gun at all.

So I’m peering under the house. Nothing. No, wait.

Then I freak out. The little armadillo (who is much smaller than I thought he would be) starts coming out from under the house and runs toward me like we know each other.

I don’t know you little dude, but right now, I hate you, because you woke me up.

I look him in the eye, and like Clint Eastwood, I pull that trigger.

He runs away, because I’m a terrible shot.

I hear Wesley laughing hysterically in the bedroom.

My ears are ringing and I’m shaking because I was scared he was gonna attack me. Armadillos look like space creatures.

I go back inside. Wes cannot believe I actually shot at it. He’s not surprised that I didn’t hit it.
I lay down. Perfect peace and quiet.

I fall back asleep for about 30 minutes, and then something else wakes me up.

But this other thing I don’t wanna hurt. She’s precious and just wants to eat. So I get up and feed my kid. And then go back to bed, for a third time that night.

Hopefully Mr. Armadillo will spread the word that a crazy sleep-deprived lady lives in our house and the other critters won’t come around.

Had it been anything besides an armadillo, I probably couldn’t have shot at it.

Those are animals only their mother could love. And maybe not even then.

Soapbox: Episode 2: Water Related

There are several things that annoy me in life. Here are three water related things that really bug me.

1. Wet Socks.

Do I have to even describe this? It’s one thing to have your clothes get wet. But a sock? It’s the worst feeling ever. Shoe or no shoe, it stinks. If you are shoe-less, at least you can get the wet sock off faster, but if its REALLY wet, you have a struggle on your hands. If you have a shoe on, then when you do get the sock off it looks like you just spent 20 minutes soaking your foot in a tub of water. Not a fan.

2. Drinking the wrong thing.

Have you ever sat down to watch Biggest Loser, and you reach over to your table to grab your Diet Caffeine free Dr. Pepper to wash down your extra movie theater butter popcorn and all of a sudden you have a mouth full of luke warm, watered down sweet tea from two days ago? Blah. Worst feeling ever. Even if it was a freshly poured glass of sweet tea, if you are expecting something else, it immediately tastes like a glass of someone else’s spit.

3. Blue Jean Osmosis

Don’t act like this hasn’t happened to you. It’s autumn and sprinkling, and you’re off to do some shopping. You get out of your car in the parking lot and step in a puddle. It just barely nicks the bottom of your jeans. No biggie right? Ha! Give it twenty minutes. That water will have multiplied and soaked into at least a third of your jeans. Yep. Now you have wet calves. And every time the freezing cold pant’s leg touches your leg you get a reminder of the rain boots you didn’t wear.

Anything water related that bugs you?

SoapBox: Episode 1: Leet Speak

As promised. Soap box. Episode 1: Leet Speak.

I HATE leet speak. You may or may not have seen this before. It is a sure fire way to get me to delete you immediately from my friends list. Let me show you what leet speak is.
Leet speak

My sister posted this the other day (the other day meaning like a month ago). It is truly one of the worst I’ve seen.

Leet speak – or 1337 speak – is where you replace, pretty much every letter, with something else. T’s are replaced with 7’s, L’s with 1’s. E’s with 3’s. Its supposed to be cute? I guess? I’m not really sure.

I think originally it was used by like coders and programmers who were making viruses and what not – but now is used mostly by teenage girls. Its more like code. Like Morse code. It’s communication, but communication no one wants to actually communicate with.

This tells me 5 distinct things about you:

1. You have too much time on your hands. Get a real hobby.

2. You are as nerdy as someone who speaks Klingon. Different language, same idea. No one wants to understand what you are saying.

3. I feel sorry for your kids. And pretty much anyone you ever come in contact with.

4. You probably have a lot of friends. Oh wait, I meant you probably have at least one friend. Ahh.. I’m being generous there.

5. You don’t mind airing out your dirty laundry for all the Facebook world to see. That’s classy.

Go ahead. Attempt to translate in the comments.