P is for poop

The end of the school year is upon us, and by the end of next month we will have gotten through our second year of home school!  The girls have their last classes this week (even though we are supposed to continue lessons through June), and Maggie had her last day of kindergarten yesterday.
When we got home Layla spent the afternoon painting printer paper with black paint, and made Maggie a graduation cap, along with an award certificate for her big day.  Maggie wore the cap (once it was dry) and they had a little parade around the living room while humming pomp and circumstance. Very appropriate. (which is new for us. ha)

At long last I got my hot little hands on Maggie's alphabet book, which she has been working on all year. It is amazing (I may be biased, but probably I'm not, and my baby is a prodigy) and I am thrilled to finally get to call it my own!  (you may remember it from this post) The holy grail of kindergarten projects is now mine. I am one happy lady.

P is also for proud, which is how I feel about my girls.  We have made it through another year, and we are all still pretty much intact. I think a pizza party is in order. (with beer. for me.)

and now, because I love you, and it was too good to keep all to myself:

My new favorite thing. 

Q is for Queen

official "you have graduated!" certificate,
 and home made graduate's cap (with tassel). priceless.

you can't always get what you want..

even though I am kind of used to getting just that.  I had to go and mention irony, and in it's true fashion, it turned around and kicked me right in my ass. Not cool Universe, not cool.
As it turns out, a mere week after seeing the balloon, I wished I had it.  My mother in law was on her way in to hug us goodbye, and hit the road back home to Alaska, when she fell out of the camper (in my driveway... on her way to say goodbye) and broke her femur. True story. The paramedics rolled (you may remember the young hotties that they keep at our local fire department down the road, from when they paid me a special visit on Valentine's day '08 after plunging a meat thermometer through my vegetarian hand..oh sweet irony, you've bested me again. Will I ever learn?!(this is said with reverence, not as a challenge, please understand))
Anyway, sweet young things came to my rescue once again. (sidebar: would it really be too much to ask that once, just once, when I had a need for emergency assistance, that a distinguished gentleman, or woman, would come to my aid? What is with the part time models thinking it's fine to be paramedics?! As if when someone has to cut your pants off, in the driveway, (yes it did), it is too much to ask that they could they just look like my mom, instead of the boy that didn't take me to the prom in high school?! SHIT!) Whisked my mil off in an ambulance, and then with a sideways smile, invited me to Starbucks. Um. Never mind. (my life is so weird)
She goes to the emergency room, and then gets admitted for emergency surgery. Alan meets his folks at the hospital, and calls me later to pick him up there. His car is dead in the parking lot. **shaking fist at irony** Car gets towed from ER parking lot. Etc..Etc..Etc....You are starting to get the picture.
Fast forward to today (since I wish I could). When everything gets all straightened out again, man am I going to appreciate it. Forever. I am sure that I don't need anymore tests of my strength, or mental stability (since I think we are all on the same page there..) 
The sun is supposed to be out tomorrow.  If they served spiked coffee at Starbucks, I might would take Mr. Hottie McFratboy up on his offer for a cuppa. Alas, we are knee deep in school, appointments, and packing to have any time for decompression, so onward. I will take it like a woman. Dominate.  (or hang on by a thin thread, but do it wearing my best jeans, so at least my butt will look good)
Then, when all of this has passed, I will try to look back and laugh, happy to have survived. (then try to forget most of the details)

ps, I also survived the end of the world, which was predicted to be this last weekend.  Guess I'm not done here yet. Although, truthfully I was almost looking forward to it. I am tired.

meds? yes please.

They say that laughter is the best medicine. I agree. Nothing can turn your day around like a good, body shaking belly laugh. The longer the better.  I also like to keep these on hand to take as needed:
beer/tequila
brownies/tater tots
good girl friends
sunny days (need to get this refilled)
fuzzy pants
naps
monkey sex (as in crazy style, not as in with monkeys)
mochas
discount retail shopping (deals=shopping high)

If you don't notice a change in symptoms, or your symptoms get worse, layer two or more (the more the better, preferably all at once).  If you don't notice a drastic change in 6 months, something stronger is necessary. Most likely it could be fatal (to those around you) and/or contagious, so your best bet is some short intense isolation.  Heat usually helps kill any surface troubles, but the important thing is to heal from the inside out.  These things take time.  Maybe pre schedule another "session" for 6 months out.  You can never be too careful.

why didn't I think of that?!

I told Alan that I should write more when Dad is here.  He seriously cracks me up. Alan noted that someone already does that over at shit my dad says. Geez, every good idea I have has already been done. Or overdone.  Although, looks like that guy has been falling behind lately. (Probably because he got a book deal AND a sitcom on a major network, starring my favorite piece of Shatner.)
So I will keep plugging along here, and if you don't hear from me for a while, it's probably because I went and got super famous and forgot all about you. (or possibly I got lost, or the kids have me locked in a closet. Maybe check those out first before quitting your day job to follow my tour as a superfan.)

mama said there'd be days like this

So the other day, Dad and Alan were at the liquor store to get some libations to help us to celebrate cinco de Mayo.  As they were paying for the goodies, the store attendants were locking up the doors because it was closing time. Apparently the employees were turning away wanna be customers left and right. 
The boys walk out of the store with their bottles in paper bags and a lady comes ripping into the parking lot and swings to a stop next to them. They say the car had the bumper duct taped on, the headlights were all wonky and it was sporting other "home made" fixes as well.  She spills out of the car and runs over yelling "I will give you TWICE what you paid!!" (without even knowing what they have in the bag).  They laugh and Dad jokes "I'm sure we can work something out.." They jump into our car and come home.  Later, (a few drinks in) they are recounting the story to us and expect me to laugh. (ok, I did. a little.) Um, did you hook her up? I asked. No, Alan says.  She was all freaky and strung out. "Who are you to judge? I have had that EXACT same day lots of times", says me. "You gotta help a mama out! "
Turns out he was trying to help out this mama, and was worried I would have a similar reaction if he showed up empty handed. On second thought, great choice. Cheers.  She probably didn't have strawberries for the chocolate/whipped cream/ berry shots anyway.  Better luck next time friend.

isn't it ironic

Irony. I am a fan, but I also have respect.  I am always a little nervous that I might die on my birthday, understand that sometimes you will get completely screwed (not the good way), when you are trying to do the right thing, and with my luck I will probably have ALL of the winning lotto numbers the week before they are called.  It's funny, really, it just takes a solid sense of humor to appreciate it. 
Today I was at the hospital with Dad (for a follow up finger appointment, totally routine) and wandered into the gift shop. (of course)  I found a balloon that said "you are in our thoughts and prayers" Um, really?! Not actually balloony, people!  I can't believe I have to explain this, but balloons are for celebrations, parades, and for dumping on your head when you hit the big jackpot. (not when your friend or loved one is lying in a paper robe, in the hospital, with a flesh eating bacteria)  I mean, if someone is in your thoughts and prayers, maybe a nice card, or some flowers would be a good choice.  I am not claiming to be the classiest broad ever, but come on! 
I almost wanted to get it just to have it on hand for emergencies. Baby shower? Quinceanera? It would ALWAYS be totally, inappropriately awesome.  Dad had the best idea: Put it with a HUGE bouquet of black balloons and bring it to a funeral. Taadaa!  You have single handedly just turned the entire event into a party.  Your welcome mourners, you can now tap the keg and party down. Happy I could help.