You're already winners, let's put some bling behind it!

Today I took the short version of the Dr. Phil personality test. I scored a 38.

Guess who else supposedly scored a 38?

Oprah! 

You guys, I'm totally channeling Oprah today! I'm having my first ever giveaway. 

I'm SO excited about this, I can't even!

Okay, so here's what you can win:

They are amazing, non? 

Here's how you enter to win. From now until November 27th (the day before Thanksgiving) at midnight EST, you get one entry for each of the following: comment on this blog with anything polite, like my Daily Dose of Dahl Facebook page, like the Friends with Flair page, follow my page on either networked blogs or Blogger.  As a bonus, anyone that you bring to my page or the Friends with Flare page that likes it and comments 'giveaway entry via. (your name) will get both you and your friend an entry. Simple as pie right? 

Many, many thanks to Monica Hamilton for being willing to sponsor this amazing giveaway. Make sure you guys go check our her page because she does rings, bracelets, and necklaces too! All hand crafted by her. 

I might actually go and get my ears pierced again since my holes decided to close up after 30 years. 

Okay people! Get to entering!

...and how was YOUR weekend?

For T's birthday, my dad bought him a BB gun. Tucker got to shoot for the first time during a Boy Scout camping trip in October and loved it, so it was perfect timing.

We spent the weekend in Winston, so Dad set up a place for Tucker to practice. Both Dad, Robert, and Tucker are naturally good shots. 

Me? Wellllll............ I did at least hit the target sort of kind of near where I was aiming, but my depth perception is wonky on a good day, so I should be grateful for small things. But it was a LOT of fun. 

After Tucker got bored with shooting and he and Dad went back inside, Robert and I stayed outside and practiced for a little while longer. And when I say practiced, I practiced and Robert perfected. We had so many holes in the target, I couldn't tell which ones were mine and which ones were already there. So I started trying to shoot the where the target ended and the cardboard began. Since it was a breezy day, we had the tape roll hanging from the cardboard to give it some weight. I hit the paper, and I hit the cardboard, but I never hit the exact place where I thought I was aiming.

But Robert? He decided to see if he could hit the actual strip of tape. 

I'd say that pretty much covers it. 

Sara had opted to go to a football game with Mom and Richard, so she missed all the target practice but didn't seem to care. I mean, come on? Cheerleaders versus target practice? No contest for our resident diva. 

Monday, Robert, the kids, and I went to see the new Thor movie. I liked it, Robert and Tucker loved it and Sara tolerated it because she got to have popcorn. She did admit it wasn't as scary as she expected, which was awesome. Because when she gets scared at a movie, she shrieks. Like a girl. 

Oh, wait...

And here's a random picture of scenery. North Carolina is such a beautiful state. 

Photography Friday

Last week on Halloween, the kids were allowed to go to school dressed as their favorite book character.

Tucker chose to be Nate from the Big Nate series.

Sara, after learning that I would not, in fact, go buy a book that has Wonder Woman in it so she could wear her Halloween costume to school all day, begrudgingly agreed to be Junie B. Jones.

Begrudgingly until we put her 'look' together and then she loved it so much that she didn't want to change into her Halloween costume to go trick or treating.

 I'm cool with that.

Tucker was over having his picture taken by 8 am that morning, and by trick or treat time was ALL about the candy. That kid cracks me up!

Throwback Thursday - The Day NO ONE Was Happy *a repost from January 30, 2008*

Well, phbbtttttttttt.

So, today I have to literally drag T out of bed. He doesn't want to wear socks. He doesn't want to get dressed or have his diaper changed (no, he's not potty trained yet - pick this fight with me another day please - preferably in 2045). He doesn't want waffles for breakfast, or cereal, or yogurt, or fruit, or any of the other 15 choices I give him. Okay, okay, I didn't really think he'd go for the canned peas or the celery sticks, but at least I offered.

I get S started on a bottle and I fix myself a frozen waffle knowing that T will probably immediately want one. I was right. He ends up eating two and a half waffles, half an apple, and two glasses of milk. S, not to be left out, eats almost an entire waffle (sans syrup) by herself. How about that?!?!?

I totally cheat and turn on cartoons so I can get T changed, dressed and swabbed down from all the sticky syrup. Bonus plan, I hand him his toothbrush and he automatically brushes his teeth. So at 9:02 we leave the apartment. I'm toting S, the diaper bag, the garbage, and another bag full of cardboard to be recycled. All I ask T to carry is his coat, he throws it down the steps. I start singing "Girls just wanna have fu-un" because it's either that, bite a hole in my tongue, or yell at T before it's even noon. And let's face it - that's NOT how I want to start my day. Or his.

I drop him off at school, warn Mrs. J that he's been a pill since Monday (we had an hour long standoff when I picked him up from school over putting on his shoes and sitting in his car seat), and decide that all the errands I was planning to do can wait. I just want to go home and enjoy the quiet and solitude. S, God bless her well behaving self, happily plays with me for about an hour or so and then wants to take a nap. I take advantage of this time and stretch out on the couch with the paper.

Picking T up from school, Mrs. J says he's been fine for her - a little wild, but all the kids were wild today. I know she's just saying that, but it makes me feel better. On a side note, there are now five kids in this enrichment class. The little boy that used to be the only one there besides T is on a three week vacation with his Grandma. T's behavior has improved 200% since he's been gone. I dread him coming back next week. T is glad to see me, his shoes are already on (Thanks, Mrs. J) so we head out to the car.

"Hey T", I say, knowing I'm pushing my luck, "guess what? We're going to get your haircut today!"

"Okay, Mommie" he says.

Uhh... excuse me? Did he... did he just agree with me? Holy shenanigans!

We find parking, I plop S in the stroller, and into the barber shop we stroll. Of the three available chairs, only one has a barber working, but there's also only one person waiting. There's a little boy in the chair and he's behaving well. Look, I point out to T, that's how well you behaved last time. You are going to be that good today too, right? T, watching with fascination as the boy in the chair gets sides buzzed, nods in agreement. Cool!

After the boy in the chair is done, his dad gets his hair cut, and T and the boy (whose name is Nathan) play a rousing game of who can get the most hair from the floor on their clothes. The barber is not amused. The other dad and I are slightly amused. Right before it's T's turn, he falls and hits his hip. Since I've calmly asked him to sit in a chair at least 70 times, I find it hard to be truly sympathetic, but I do give it a shot.

I put T in the barber chair. He wants to sit on my lap, so I ask if it's okay. No says grumpy barber. T immediately starts to throw a fit. I try reasoning with him, no go. I try several approaches. No go. Then the barber, whom is my least favorite anyway tells me that he will not cut T's hair today and that we have to leave. You know, I get it - I really do. I wouldn't really want to cut a squirmy, crying kids hair either. But come ON! Could you please, please just cut me some slack here? Nope - the barber says we have to leave. So, I get T down out of the chair and slink out of the barber shop, really embarrassed. It's not helping that the three guys that walked in after us are laughing. It's also not one bit funny to me. As soon as we are out of the barber shop, T throws a fit to go to the food court and play the racing game. Uhhh.. I so don't think so. So he sits down in the middle of the sidewalk and screams. I keep walking. I'm mad enough that I know not to open my mouth. We've parked right beside the food court, so I go to the car. I look around for T and he's about to run into the parking lot. Losing my grip on reality or volume control I holler (holler is a southern term that is somewhere between yelling and verbal murder) GET OVER HERE. NOW! I'm pretty soft spoken so even I'm surprised as my words echo off the building and everyone outside stops in their tracks and looks at us. T resumes crying and trots over to me. I strap the kids into their seats and we go home. I'm still fuming.

When we get into the apartment, I send T to his room. I call R and vent. As I'm venting I realize that while I'm plenty angry with T (could we please just stop the tantrums for crying out loud???!?!?! You're three!!!!!!!), I'm much more angry with the barber and the laughing idiots. I go into T's room to try and talk to him about it, he's having none of it, so we are at a standoff. When he finally comes out of his room, S is eating lunch and the first thing he does is whack her on the head. Geez!

Poor S - I took this after she was whacked on the head. Life is tough today!!!!!!!!!

Okay, fine I tell him. First timeout, and then a haircut from me. NONONOONNONOOOOOOO!!!!!!! he screams. I put him in time out. When he's done with that, I strip him to the waist, and I cut his hair. He wiggles and periodically screams "ow!!!" but I manage to trim around his ears and the back of his neck. It's not great, but it's better than it was.

After the haircut - not too bad, if I do say so myself.

After I clean up the hair, it's nap time, and today I take one too. An hour later, I feel more human, the kids are still sleeping. I open T and S's doors to start the wake up process. T wakes up first, so since it's already been a day of battles, I change his bandage. I grabbed the camera and took a picture of his finger. It's right below this paragraph (if I can get the pics to load this time) so be warned. It's not gross, but it's not pretty. The rest of the evening goes much better except for Sara's spectacular poopie diaper, but that's a story for another day!
T's finger. It's really looking much better. A lot of bruising and some swelling, but it's healing nicely. The stuff on his chest from the first picture is adhesive from the chest monitors when he was put under general anesthesia. Every day we get a little more of it off.

Make it Work Wednesday

Oh, Pintrest. I'm sure you don't mean to, but you make me feel unworthy.

Part of it is my own fault. I am certainly not the next Martha Stewart. I am somewhat creative, but I lack some serious skills. Important things like cutting straight and how to improvise when all is not going according to directions.

For example, a friend of mine posted this link to a delicious looking chicken and rice soup recipe on her Facebook page.

Easy Crock Pot Creamy Chicken and Rice Soup

Print recipe

Serves	8
Prep time	10 minutes
Cook time	8 hours
Total time	8 hours, 10 minutes
Meal type	Lunch, Main Dish, Soup, Starter
Misc	Child Friendly, Pre-preparable, Serve Hot

Ingredients

• 6 cups chicken stock
• 2 chicken breasts (boneless skinless)
   
• 2 bay leaves
• 2 stalks celery (chopped)
   
• 1 medium onion (chopped)
• 2 carrots (chopped)
• salt (to taste)
• 1 teaspoon lemon pepper
• 1 teaspoon garlic powder
• 1/2 teaspoon onion powder
• 1/2 teaspoon cumin
• 3/4 cups long grain rice (NOT quick cooking rice)
• 1/4 cup flour
• 1/2 cup milk
• 10oz corn

 

Make Pork Biscuits for Game Day

 

Directions

Step 1

Add everything to the crock pot except the rice, corn, flour and milk. Cover and cook for 8 hours. The chicken will cook in the broth and add more flavor to the soup. Halfway through cooking add the rice (or you can stir in already cooked rice at the end).

Step 2

About 30 minutes prior to serving, shred the chicken. In a small container with a lid shake together flour and milk really well and stir into soup. Add Corn. Let cook for 30 minutes more to allow the soup to thicken.

Read more at http://backforsecondsblog.com/2012/11/easy-crock-pot-creamy-chicken-and-rice-soup/#F8PQkKC9QAdeWL78.99


Seriously, doesn't that look like the perfect thing for a chilly fall day? I LOVE soup. I especially love healthy soups.

So last week I made this with some adjustments.

I don't do bay leaves, they gross me out. Yes, I know that's weird. I've made my peace with it.

I subbed a veggie mix (carrots, peas, green beans, and corn) for the 10 oz of corn. I also tossed in 1 cup of long grain brown rice (the kind that should be boiled on a stovetop for 45 minutes. Oops) and used onion powder instead of actual onions. I was also out of celery so I omitted that altogether.

It looked great until the rice didn't cook. And didn't cook. And didn't cook.

Total cook time ended up being off and on a couple days. I had to turn my crockpot up to "melt steel" to get the rice to finish cooking and at that point the chicken and veggies were pretty much mush.

It had a great flavor, though.

So I tried again this week, adding less rice to the chicken broth and celery first and letting it cook for 3-4 hours first. Then I added the chicken and spices for another couple hours and then I added the veggies. I also omitted the flour and milk because I'm not a huge fan of any cream of _____ soups. Theoretically, this still should have worked beautifully.

In reality, the crock pot was on for over 24 hours before the rice was done and the rice still soaked up almost all the liquid.

This pretty much sums up my feelings on the matter:


Again, the flavor was incredible. The veggies and chicken weren't cooked to mush, but it was closer than I would have liked.

So, F I N E. I will cook the rice separately, even though to me that takes away the charm and ease of using the crock pot to make it in the first place.

::grumble::

And yes, I know it's operator error.

Sigh.

Teacher Conference Tuesday and Mother of the Year Award

I'm literally loving alliteration this week.

Obviously.

Today I had a teacher conference with Sara's teacher. It was at 3 pm.

The final bell rings at school at 2:35. Bus riders get loaded first, the buses take off around 2:45, then the pick up lines circles through the bus lane to pick up car riders.

So, technically, picking up Sara after school would have seemed like the most efficient way to get her after school and to the conference on time.

Except -

Unless I'm willing to get in the pickup line around 1:30 and wait, there's no guarantee that I would make it in time. And since one of the last times I was in the pickup line my battery died and no one offered to help me, I wasn't eager for even the slight possibility of a repeat.

When the kids ride the bus, they are dropped off at the bus stop between 2:50 and 2:57 normally. For the past week, they haven't been dropped off before 2:55. So today I headed out of the house right at 2:50 (or so I thought), knowing it only takes a minute to get to the bus stop.

Except -

I was in the bedroom before I needed to leave to pick up Sara, changing clothes. I left the bedroom and the clock said 2:47. When I got into the car, it was 2:53. I have no idea what happened to those 5 minutes. I got to the bus stop at 2:54, and the bus was pulled over, waiting.

Oh. No.

I pulled in behind the bus, the doors opened, Sara came out and burst into tears.

Oh. No!

She got in the car and was SO upset (rightly so), and said that the bus driver yelled at her and they had been waiting for me for 10 minutes. I doubted that it was 10 minutes, but I have no doubt it seemed like that to Sara and that she was really scared.  I feel awful!

So I calmed her down, we drove to school, parked, walked into the office to sign in, and went to the teacher conference. Sara seemed to be okay by that point and she settled down on the floor of the classroom to work on some math activities.

The conference went really well, and by the time we left, it was almost time to pick up Tucker from his Lego class. So we just hung out until he was done and then ran some errands and came home.

All I can say is this..I'm very glad that it was Sara being evaluated today and not me, because I would not have scored well at all. And even though she was emotional this evening, I just kept saying small prayers of thanks that she is such a loving and forgiving child and that her teacher didn't have one negative thing to say about her. I'm so grateful. And so sorry I let her down.

Why are you not biting at your eye?

It's Megan Monday! Megan comes up with a lot of great ideas for me to write about on my blog. Unfortunately, if I don't write them down (and that happens a lot) I forget them. So since I've been really struggling with writing and posting lately, I'm going to pick something she's suggested (or like in today's post - asked), write it down (or text it to myself), and then write about it. On Mondays. Because Megan Thursday just doesn't have the same ring, no matter what she says.

I am really not a phone person. Maybe I spent too much time on the phone when I was younger, maybe I am more easily distracted now (ever notice how your kids never need you as much as when you are on the phone?), or maybe all those years of listening to music way, way too loud have taken their toll. Maybe it's a combination of all three plus a few others I can't remember because as I type, I'm thinking about something else, my fingers are freezing, and I really want a nap.

What was I talking about? Oh, right. I'm not a phone person.

But, to my great surprise, I have spent more time on the phone since we've moved to North Carolina than I have in the last three years combined.

I have no idea why.

Every now and then, when I'm talking to my friend Megan, we'll start talking about one thing, drift to another, and then I'll end up relating to something completely different with an anecdote about my past.

Okay, fine. I said every now and then, but I really meant every time.

SQUIRREL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What?

I've lead an interesting life, okay? It's like the six degrees of Kevin Bacon game. In the end everything is relate-able.

So last week the subject came up of double standards. It was an involved conversation that I couldn't even begin to try and rehash on my blog. (You're welcome. HA!)

I ended up talking about how males and females were treated differently in my family growing up and how I feel that has translated into many of the core differences between me and my brother.

image courtesy of www.cosatu.org.za

I'd relate it to my other siblings too, but I don't have any. My step sister and I weren't raised in the same environment, so she escaped the drama didn't have the same experiences.

I was relating the 'boys need more' philosophy that I heard from my grandfather all the time when I was growing up. I'll spare you those conversations too, mainly because they are completely ridiculous.

After a few minutes of listening to me, Megan chimes in and says something to the effect of, "I do not understand why you are not walking around biting at your own eye."

Isn't talking about something from 30+ (and heavy on the plus, unfortunately) years ago evidence enough that in a way, I AM biting at my own eye?

No?

Sweet!

After thinking about it for a minute or two, I explained that it was all normal to me until I got older and realized that not everyone was raised this way. And that once I realized that, it was like I had been set free - because even at 9, I knew that was a load of crap, but I didn't dare say it.

So why am I not biting at my eye? Well, probably because my hearing is already going, I'm starting to ache when it's really cold, and every year my body feels older than the year before. So why take out a reasonably working, vision-corrected-through-glasses eye?

Spelling Mom and Tucker style

Tucker isn't the best speller in the world. Each week, his homework includes five vocabulary words. During the course of the week, he has to write the definition of each word and what part of speech it is, use the word correctly in a sentence, fill out a chart with the word including synonyms, antonyms, and definitions, and then know how to spell the word. 

On Thursdays, I review all this with him to make sure he's ready for his test on Friday.  Tucker could care less about spelling things correctly because in Tucker logic, he spells words like they sound anyway, so who cares if he spells which w-i-c-h? Sounds the same anyway.

Thursday we were reviewing the vocabulary words for last week - eager, punctual, necessary, benefit, and the one I can't remember. 

Tucker was having trouble with all of the words besides eager and since he was already tired when we started the review, it didn't take him long to become frustrated.

Trying to help, I came up with word associations to make them easier to remember. (I should note for all of you who read this that are old enough to remember, I got this idea from an episode of the Facts of Life where the girls were studying for exams and Tootie suggested "A U, gimme back my gold!" for remembering the periodic table symbol for gold...au.)

Benefit.  Hey Tucker, you have a new gym teacher. Ben E. Fit. His knowledge will benefit you in gym class. 

Necessary. Since Tucker knows how to spell recess, I pointed out the necessary is recess, subbing the r for an n and adding ary. How to remember this? Recess is necessary. Just ask Ben E. Fit.

Punctual.  A play on words is a pun. P-u-n. c (see) t (my nickname for Tucker)? u (you) a l. You not a z, you a l.  It's not punny to make fun of punctual. Especially if u a l. 

It worked. He remembered how to spell the words the next morning. 

Goofy parenting win! 

Deep thoughts, only not really

I think I'm social media overexposed. Or social media-ed out.

Maybe I just feel really old today or something.

I mean, I have a Facebook account that is mostly used to keep up with other people I'm interested in versus, you know, actually calling them or anything. I also have a decrepit Twitter account that I generally tend to remember when the Twitter Gods send me an email either reminding me to use Twitter or to let me know about something they think I should think is important.

::In my best Carrie Bradshaw voiceover:: Is social media actually having the opposite of its intended effect? Are our Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, Flickr, Tumblr, Pinterest, and YouTube obsessions actually making us less social in real life versus more virtually social? Like the tree that may or may not make a sound when it falls in the woods if no one is around, does anything that happens count if it's not immediately photographed, videoed, or Facebooked or Tweeted?

Of course, perhaps if I Instagramed every bite of food I consumed I would actually start losing weight again, so maybe I should try it before I knock it.

Gotta go and switch out the laundry. I'll spare you an uploaded photo of that and also forgo my daily selfie (okay, semi yearly selfie) because today I'm totally fine being that out of touch.