The Home Phone

I am down to one phone. 

Yes it's corded.

My other phones have all broke.  Apparently there is only a 14 year life span on a $12.00 phone.  Who knew?

"Go buy a phone," my husband pleads. "A decent one."

"Why?  This one still works,"  I tell him. "You have your cell phone."

"Babe, don't be so cheap," he tells me.

"Okay, I'll buy one tomorrow."  But I have no real intention.

I tell him to look on the bright side.

Aside from not having the patience to talk on a phone while tethered to the wall, missing calls because it stops ringing before we can answer it, not hearing it all together, or the calls that are dropped repeatedly while in the middle of conversations that has caused friends and family to give up.  It's not so bad.

It has cut down on phone calls placed and received in this house considerably.

Really, who needs the frustration!

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It's All About Balance

I proudly wear the titles wife and mother.  Still, I'd prefer to have the titles ruler and dictator.

I don't mind the cleaning, the laundry, the dishes, the mopping, the vacuuming, or the cooking.  I don't mind the carpooling, the scheduling, the budgeting, or the organizing.

Okay, I mind a little.  It's my job not my passion, and if I want these things done right, I have to do them. 

But it never fails, in the middle of my cleaning escapades, to look over and find my husband sitting on the couch.  Just sitting there, not doing anything.  It makes my blood boil.

I try making extra noise in the kitchen, I try turning on the vacuum behind him, I try dusting the television he can't pry his eyes off of.  All my subtle attempts fail to draw his attention.  Finally I can't stand it any longer.

"Are you just going to sit there?"  It's a demand more than a question.

He's oblivious to his three pairs of shoes scattered in the middle of the floor, the knocked over sunflower seed bowl spilling down the cushions, or the fact that he has tracked taping mud through the entire house.  I just finished sweeping!

I start thinking, "Men have it so easy!  I wish I were that blind."

Then I remember, that's why he has me in his life...to make his life harder. 

It's all about balance.
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No One Likes a Tattle Tale

Today Rio was sent home from school with a discipline slip.

"Mom look what Rio has for you,"  Amaya said, handing me a slip from Rio's teacher.

A discipline slip.  It states:  Grabbing clothes of others around the neck. 

This is the second discipline slip this year.  The first one was for not following the one set of rules that the school has in place for tether ball.

"Rio,"  I said. "Come here."

"Ya..."  He said with his head hanging low as he approached me.

"What happened?"  I asked.  "You grabbed someone by their shirt?"

"Yes,"  he answered.

"Why?"

"I don't know?"  he answered.

"Was it because you were mad?"  I asked.

"No, we were playing,"  he said.  "And grabbing is part of the game.  You have to catch the other person.  He grabbed me too."

"Okay, well it isn't okay to grab people by their shirt.  Especially around the neck, it's dangerous,"  I told him.

"I know.  We were just playing a game,"  he said. 

"Did you tell your teacher that the other boys were playing like that too?"

"No."

"Why not?"  I asked.

"Because they're my friends and I don't want to get them in trouble,"  he said.

And he's right. No one likes a tattle tale.

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The Limp

Last week Rio hurt his ankle.  He twisted it while my mom was picking him up from school.  He came into the house hopping on one foot.

"Mom, Rio's hurt!"  Amaya called out with panic in her voice, as they entered the front door.

Rio told me what happened, not leaving any detail out.  As I removed his shoe and sock the expressions on his face told me to be very gentle.

"Let me go get the ankle brace for you,"  I said.

"Do you think he really needs it?"  my mom asked.

"No.  But if he's okay after it's on, we'll know it's not serious."   

After the ankle brace was on he hopped around, limped, and still grunted with pain. 

"Maybe he's not faking,"  I thought.

A couple hours later it was time for soccer camp.  Guess who was miraculously healed.  Rio's limp was gone.  It didn't bother him on the field or inside the goal.  It didn't stop him from spinning or doing cartwheels when he was supposed to be paying attention.

At home after soccer the mysterious limp returned.  He hobbled down the hall to his room to put on his pajamas. 

"Rio, why are you limping?"  I asked.

"Remember..."  he drew out.  "I hurt it." 

The next day, same thing.  The following day after that, same thing.  The day of his soccer game, same thing.  So on and so on.  I thought he had forgotten about his ankle until last night, when I saw him hobble past the office. 

"Rio are you okay?"  I asked.

"Gese, what does it take to get some attention?"  he asked while limping towards me.

Apparently bleed.

Vaguely Defined

Vocabulary is important.  It's important for children to learn the correct meanings of words so that they can articulate those words in sentences properly. 

When the weeks vocabulary words come home with loose definitions provided by the school,  my mom gets irritated. 

"Don't these kids use a dictionary at school?"  She asks shaking her head.

"Amaya what does crossly mean?"  My mom quizzes her.

"To look angrily at something,"  she answers.

"What does elegant mean?" 

"To mark with good taste,"  she answers.

"What does godmother mean?" 

"Someone who acts like a mother,"  she answers.

"Wrong!"  my mom tells her.  "Nikki, do you ever read the definitions she brings home?"  she calls out from my kitchen.

"Well that's what our teacher told us to write Grandma,"  Amaya defends herself.

I grab the dictionary.  Before jumping to conclusions, we look up the words to see if by some chance the definitions are correct.  But mainly to prove that we were.

cross•ly: adv. in a cross or angry manner.
el·e·gant: adj. 1. Marked by elegance 2. A high grade of quality
god·moth·er: noun a woman who sponsors a person at a baptism

Our assumptions turn out to be correct.  The vocabulary words are vaguely defined.  Except the word godmother.  There's only one definition.  It makes me wonder if the definition was changed because of it's religious nature.

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Magic Sponges

I've had a box of Magic Eraser sponges for about a year.  I've used one.  I wondered where the magic was.  I could do the same job in half the time with a rag and some multi-purpose cleaner.

"Mom can I clean my door?"  Amaya asked.  "There's something on it."

"Of course you can, it's your door."  I was excited, it's not every day that she wants to clean.

"Can I use one of these sponges?"  She asked.  Her eyes getting big while emptying the box out on the table.

"Go for it!"  I tell her.

Twenty minutes past and I hadn't seen or heard from Amaya or Rio.  That's usually a dead give away that they're up to no good.  So imagine the shock on my face when I turn down the hall to see them scrubbing away all the dirt and grime from all the doors and baseboard.

I guess those sponges are magic after all!

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Healthy Choices

The school lunch menu approved by our School District and The Child Nutrition Department is lacking to say the least.  Where are the healthy choices?

I let my kids buy lunch for one week .  This was against my better judgement, but I wanted to see what they ate if the school was in charge of their nutrition.  Their lunch diet consisted of corn dogs, pizza bread, chili-cheese fries, chicken nuggets, mozzarella sticks, and grilled cheese with seasoned fries.  All foods that I deem part of the fast food group. 

Still schools take the nanny position and practice "do as I say, not as I do" with our children.  They ban food item fund raisers, they prohibit cupcakes for birthdays, and they eliminate P.E.  All while telling parents that the above lunch menu is healthy and approved.  Who are they kidding?

Better Safe Than Sorry

I've been busy. It all started with one tiny bug.

I was blow drying Rio's hair as I do every morning and I saw what looked like a tiny sliver of bark.  I picked it out and took a closer look.

"Amaya!  Hurry get me a baggy!"  I yelled down the hallway.

She brought me a baggy and I put the little creature inside.  I then took a comb and started inspecting Rio's head.  Then I checked Amaya's.  Nothing.  No bugs, no eggs...so okay, it wasn't lice.  Was it a bed bug? 

After I dropped my kids off at school I took my bagged goody to my moms house.

"Mom, do you know what a bed bug looks like?"  I asked as I held up the bag.

"No,"  she said as she put on her glasses.

"Is it lice?"  I questioned.

"I don't know?"  She answered.

I went to her computer and googled lice photos.  Pictures loaded onto the screen. 

"Take it to the pharmacy and ask them if they know,"  she suggested.

Then I put the baggy on the computer screen so the bug was side by side the googled images.

"I think we know what it is!"  I told her.

After purchasing $83.00 worth of RID, I went to pull my kids out of school.  The school gladly removed them from class to have them inspected before releasing them.  The office clerk checked them.  Again, nothing!  They probably thought I was crazy, but I had proof in a baggy.  They insisted it was okay for them to remain in school. 

"Maybe you were lucky and found the only one,"  they joked.

I wasn't so sure.  Where there's one , there's two, where there's two, there's four.  And that thought sent me on a cleaning rampage.

After vacuuming and spraying the couch, I removed all bedding, blankets , and stuffed animals from my house, in case there were any stragglers.  I felt much better, until 8pm.

"Do you trust your eyes to spot a bug that starts off the size of a pin head?"  I asked my husband as we sat on the couch.

"No, do you?"  He questioned back.

Immediately everyone was treated.  Better safe than sorry.