Kids Say the Darnedest Things, Part 1

Tomorrow we begin our vacation. We will be camping for three days in Oklahoma at my family reunion, then we will be having a party for Chris' foster parents who are leaving in a couple of weeks to be missionaries in Canada. I will likely not have time to blog in the next week and a half, so on the eve of our departure, I was thinking of some of the funny things the kids have said recently and thought I would share them with you.

Billy likes for me to sleep facing him when he is in my bed. If I turn away from him, he either runs around the bed and gets on the other side or he tries to twist my neck around so that I am facing him again. The other night, I had stepped on one of his toys on my way to bed and was limping and muttering and didn't feel like accommodating his sleep preferences, so I turned my back on him. He began twisting my head around, so I turned around and tried to find a comfortable spot. I heard this little exasperated voice in the darkness: "Stop moving!" I laughed and then explained that I wasn't happy with him because he left his toy out and mommy stepped on it and hurt her foot. He said, "Mommy cuckoo!"

Billy's latest drama is to hand me his empty sippee cup and throw his head back across my lap and moan, "Me dying, me dying, me dying."

Kimmy, always a source of amusement, was scratching daddy's back the other day. She turned to me with a look that was a mixture of the melodramatic and pure orneriness, and said, "I'm going to need a shovel, some disinfectant, and some oregano." Along the same vein, as we were driving to Pizza Hut to eat another day, she said, "If they give me a picture to color, I'm going to need a jar of honey, 100 red ants, and the cover of nightfall." (Arrena tells me she got these lines from TV, I think from Hannah Montana.)

Somehow we got on the subject of surgeries I have had. The girls asked a lot of questions, especially about the time that I had to go to the emergency room after Kimmy was born because some of the placenta had been left inside me. Several days later, Kimmy said, "I'm sorry, mom, I left my purse in there! I got my keys, my wallet, my phone, and my driver's license, but I left my purse in there." When we asked her about the keys and driver's license, she said, "When I was a bean, I had a little bitty car." She added, "It was a very friendly place in there. My only friend was the heart. When I played checkers with the heart, it always won because mom kept moving my checkers."

Kimmy loves to watch Animal Planet. The Ugliest Dog Contest came on the other day and Kimmy was appalled and offended. She said, "Dogs aren't for fashion! They're for pets! How would they like it if there was an ugliest person contest?"

And Arrena, not to be outdone, had a couple of funny moments of her own. She told me that, "Dad acts like that TV is a lullaby." I was puzzled and asked her to explain. She said, "Every night he comes home and lays down on the couch, turns on the TV, and falls right to sleep."

Tonight Chris and the kids were watching one of their much-loved crime reality shows and they were telling about a group of thieves who broke into a business to rob it. They didn't know that the security guard was watching them on the surveillance cameras and calling police and directing the police with every move they made and every direction they went. Arrena looked at us and shook her head in disgust. She muttered, "They should have put bags over the cameras." Chris cracked up with a look of surprised disbelief on his face and I said, "We're going to have to keep an eye on this one if she's figured out the smart ways to commit robbery!"

Well, that's a wrap for this amateur night of comedy!

(P.S. For those of you who have my blog delivered to your email inbox, I added a couple of pictures of the girls' first day of school to that blog post after it had already been delivered to you, so you might check those out!)

Enquiring Minds Want to Know...Apparently?

Ha, ha. My frivolous musings about my hair apparently were of some interest. At the risk of embarrassing her, one of my friends called me Tuesday and Wednesday before finally reaching me today just to know how my hair had turned out! I had been waiting to mention it until I could take some photos and I didn't want to do that, first, before the 48-hour sanction on washing it had been lifted and, second, until my psychotic hair recovered from its shellshock. I don't think it's quite there yet, but I decided to take a couple anyways to share with you.

Well, let me say that it wasn't a horrible experience--I am not running around with a paper sack over my head or racing to another beautician to have the damage repaired. However, it wasn't a success, per se. I really wanted to like my hair because the girl that did my hair was so, so sweet. She talked about her family, I talked about mine. When my hair was processing, she sat down across from me to chat. I knew this wasn't to be a lasting relationship though, because she said that she wanted to go somewhere like Kansas City when she graduates. There was another girl that was supposed to be further along in her education than my stylist, who was trying to help, but she was annoying and flaky. My stylist was much more professional. However, I don't think that she used enough solution on me. When I came in, I told her what I was looking for, a loose curl that I could straighten when I wanted to. She decided on orange rods, but her instructor vetoed that. She said to use the smaller purple rods because my hair is so long, it will be heavy and weigh it down. That all sounds good, but my hair is very fine, so there isn't enough weight on it at all. I think we would have been better with the other rods (another friend, upon seeing my hair, immediately proclaimed that the rods were too small). Then her instructor told her she would probably have to use two bottles of solution on me and to make sure that she thoroughly saturated each strand. I have always needed two bottles and my hair is even longer now than it ever was back when I was getting perms. Except I only saw her use one bottle. And my hair didn't feel near as drippy as it usually does when I get a perm. I am usually itchy and tickly because of the solution running all over my scalp. She had me hold a towel over my face, so I didn't see all of what she did, but I remember noticing a lack of cold wet sensation in the lock of hair over my left eye. Granted my hair has definitely changed in the last ten+ years since I last had a perm, but my hair always took to perms REALLY well. You can tell from the pictures, even if I was acting a little silly (forgive me) that I have flat spots. It looks like I have had a perm that is now old and relaxed and I am in need of another one. Not happy with it, but I can live with it. I figure in about three months, I'll try another one. A friend of mine recommended her stylist, so we'll see if we can't do any better. Live and learn, huh?


The girls are okay at school. Kimmy comes home nearly every day with some woe: someone accidentally knocked a chair over on her or she had a sore throat all day, etc. Arrena's only complaint is the playground equipment. I think they split the age groups that are on the playground at the same time. Kimmy goes to lunch at a different time and she plays on the good equipment while she is there. Arrena isn't allowed to. Chris plans to take her to play at the playground Saturday just to make her happy.

I emailed Kimmy's teacher, as you know, about her being left in the bathroom during the fire drill. She apologized and said she would reassure Kimmy. She assured me that there is a crisis team and the custodians who check bathrooms and every other room to make sure all students get out of the building in case of an emergency. I thought she tried to place part of the blame with Kimmy when she remarked that she tries to get the kids to use the bathroom at certain times of the day and that that wasn't one of those times. I told her that Kimmy just came from a school where there were bathrooms in the classrooms and the children were urged to go any time they needed to without having to ask for permission and that Kimmy often has tummyaches and goes to the bathroom pretty frequently. She said Kimmy HAD been complaining about her stomach hurting and was glad to get that information. She said that she would allow Kimmy to go whenever she wanted to.

Tonight there was a first grade parents' meeting. Kind of silly--to tell us about the homework folders. I've never needed extensive explanation about those so far! Up to now, explanations were either in the form of a note or given when we met the teacher at a conference before school started. Anyways, there were so many rude, unruly children there--most of those parents have no control! I would have lost it if my child were to act like that, in the library, no less! When we first walked in, Kimmy's teacher made a bee-line to me and said that she had noticed Kimmy wearing an Awanas shirt and that she had talked about going to church. She said she was a Christian and wanted to ask where we went to church. I told her and she said she had grown up in a similar denomination and that she did some sort of ministry with missions (my memory is SO bad). I told her that Kimmy's grandparents were leaving in a few weeks to be missionaries to the First Nations people in Canada, so we are very sensitive to missions. She was pleased. I was impressed that she was so open about it, saying all of this in full hearing of other parents. Some teachers tend to shy away from public proclamations of that sort for fear of being caught up in some separation of church and state scandal. I remember the conversation I had with the girls' old gym teacher about that subject. Kimmy's teacher last year was a Christian and regularly prayed for the students, so Kimmy gets to continue with that trend this year. Hopefully they will both grow to like their school.

Back to School!

Well, the girls started their new school last Thursday. Initially, I worried about the lower test scores I saw on the state of Kansas report card website. But, Chris talked to one of his friends whose son either went there or is still going there and he said they were great with his son, who has a learning disability. I was also impressed at enrollment when they handed me a piece of paper to fill out that said at the top, "Here's my child--Handle with care." It had places to check off different character traits and their academic strengths and weaknesses. Then there were blanks to fill in additional information about your child that you would like the teacher to know. That was nice because there were a lot of things I wanted the teachers to be aware of. However, when I met their teachers, I got the impression that they maybe hadn't read these forms yet because they didn't seem to be previously aware of my concerns. Anyways, they had porch visits Tuesday where some of the staff went around and met with the kids and brought them an invitation to the open house and some gum and a pencil. I thought that was a neat idea. Then they had an open house/ice cream social on Wednesday. We were able to meet the teachers then and see their rooms. I felt so sorry for my girls because this school is at least double the size of their old one. Their old school had 14 classes--this one has 26 classes. There are over 600 students. I walked them all around the school several times so they could become familiar with it. I got a really good impression of Arrena's teacher. Kimmy's teacher seemed nice, but I didn't get as strong a vibe from her. Arrena says it's okay, but she is distressed over the playground situation. There are two sets of equipment--one looks really nice, the other pretty plain. She says the younger kids play on the plain equipment and the big kids play on the good stuff. I asked her if it was a rule for them to separate and she said that no one told her it was, that was just the way it worked. She wanted to go to the good equipment, but no one her age would go over there. Kimmy, who loves school, came home Thursday and Friday saying she didn't like the school and it was the worst day of school ever. I have to concur with her proclamation of Friday--I am a little ticked about that fiasco myself. At their old school, at least the younger grades (not sure about the older grades) had bathrooms in their classrooms--at that age, they have to go frequently and urgently. Well, not at this school. They have to go down the hall to use the bathroom. Kimmy had gone to the bathroom and when she came back, her class was gone. Imagine my little bitty 6-year old Kimmy standing in this huge school with no idea where to go or what to do. She said she found another teacher and asked if she knew where her class went. She said she looked all over the school and finally found them outside having a fire drill! I said, "What did your teacher say?" Kimmy said, "She said, 'Oh, Kimmy, I'm so sorry I forgot about you!'" This really bothers me. What if there had been a real fire? I understand that this is only the second day of school and she may not be familiar with all the students yet, but if you are having a fire drill, number one, shouldn't ALL the children be instructed on what to do? Number two, don't you have a class list or a head count to make sure they all get out? Don't you notice that you have one vacant desk? One missing hall pass? It's not very reassuring that you can forget a student during a controlled drill--what happens during the chaos of a real emergency? If I trust my daughter to you for seven hours a day, I need to know that she will be safe and looked after. Maybe I am overreacting, but I'd rather overreact than underreact and have something happen to my child. I told this to Kimmy's friend's mom and she said that would upset her too and she'd be contacting the teacher. I emailed the teacher over the weekend to let her know that this concerns me. I'm really not sure in what way she can respond to reassure me. And Kimmy and I talked about what she should do in case there was a real fire or a tornado while she is in the bathroom or elsewhere in the building by herself. Apparently I have to trust her to take care of herself! This does not inspire confidence! I mean, I can't imagine that the teacher can go running around the school looking for stray children with her class in tow during a fire drill or a real fire, but the children should be instructed as to what to do if there is a fire/tornado/etc. drill when they are away from their classroom. And after this, I briefly spoke to an old friend whose kids went to this school for a time. She said it was a good school, but something happened last year to make her take them out and put them in the school system that we just came out of. I didn't get to talk to her further to find out what the concern was, but I gave her my phone number so hopefully I can speak to her further and see if it was just a personal thing or if there is something I should be aware of. Hopefully this week will be better, but so far they are plotting to get back to their old school next year.

Internal Battles

I was really struggling with myself this evening. I was really mad at Chris and my feelings were at odds with my head. I wanted to lash out and retaliate, but I knew what I SHOULD be doing. I went to church this evening, a little bitter and angry. In the car, I could hear this still, small voice in my head telling me what I should do, but I was squelching it in order to think on what actions (direct or passive-aggressive) would make me FEEL better. If you remember the Bible story where God reveals himself to Elijah, it says that there was a wind so strong that it tore the mountain, but God was not in the wind. Then there was an earthquake, but God was not in the earthquake. Then there was a fire, but God was not in the fire. After that, came a still, small voice and that was God. Sometimes I think that if you don't listen to the still, small voice, God stops speaking to you. But other times, I think God tries a little louder to get your attention. Such was the case tonight. Our pastor's father-in-law was speaking tonight. He just celebrated his 65th anniversary and has been in the ministry for 58 years. He spoke tonight on I Corinthians 13--the love chapter. I groaned inwardly. THIS is what the voice in my head had been trying to tell me, but I had shushed it quickly. Now, I was at His mercy for about half an hour. You know already what happened. The passage is: "4) Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5) It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6) Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7) It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8) Love never fails." The italics are mine, indicative of how much of the passage was convicting! So, instead of leaving my phone off and staying out as long as possible, taking the kids to McDonald's and bringing him nothing (as was the beginning of my evil scheme), my first step of charity was to turn on my phone. Which promptly warned me of a message, of course from my infuriating spouse, who was locked out of the house and accused me of doing it on purpose out of spite. I bit my tongue near off and tried to call him back. There was no answer. I could have gone on to McDonald's with the kids, but I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth, and went by the house first to see if he had gotten in yet and if he had eaten yet. He was, in fact, there and was hungry. And instead of ignoring him or letting him have it, I calmly stated why I was angry. Not sure if it did any good, but I did what I think God wanted me to do. I know it seems like a simple thing, turning on my cell phone, and picking up some McDonald's for him, but it was an about-face for me. Someone once accused me of not having a backbone because I didn't stand up for myself and basically didn't fire away with both barrels when someone (specifically, Chris) mistreated me. Honestly, I think it's harder NOT to react. I didn't want to be nice. At all. I'm right. He's wrong. Why should I have to be the bigger person here? Because anyone can react. But God demands for us to love our brethren and the world and "by this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another." That self-control and collaring feelings and proceeding even though wounded is one of the hardest things I think I have ever done. And it hasn't gotten any easier over the years. Jesus never said it would be easy to turn the other cheek. And I have to keep recalling the lesson I learned years ago about forgiveness--how can I expect to be forgiven, if I don't forgive?

Anyways, that's enough deep thinking for today. My brain hurts.

I am biting the bullet and getting my hair permed in the morning. ACK! I called the lady that used to cut my dad's hair and the bottom fell out when she said she was quitting to be a nurse in two weeks and she is booked solid. So, my finding a bond with my stylist scheme fell apart. I decided to call the Xenon beauty school and make an appointment instead. I figure whoever does my hair will a student, too new to be unfriendly towards people who aren't regulars. And if I like her, I'll ask her to let me know where she ends up working and I will go to her every time. Best I can come up with at this time! We'll see how it goes. I am so nervous!

Oh, I am Such a Sap!

I used to never cry over things that didn't affect me personally. But, since I had kids, I cry over everything, it seems! Is that just the softening of motherhood or is it a chemical/hormonal thing that changes when you go through the wonders of pregnancy and childbirth?

Anyways, if you have ever heard the Mark Schultz song "Walking Her Home", you know that it is sad and maybe it has reduced you to tears as well. It's similar to the movie ending of The Notebook, if you haven't heard the song. After the first time or two of hearing it when it first came out, and knowing that it would make me cry, I refused to listen to it. I love Mark Schultz and the song is beautiful, but I can't just burst into tears any time it comes on the radio. I don't remember exactly when it came out, but it has to have been 2+ years that I have been turning the station dial when I hear the beginning of that song. We got in the car to go to church tonight and I was trying to put on my makeup. The song was on the radio, but I didn't think it would bother me because I know the words, they aren't going to surprise me, and it's been over two years! But, as soon as it got to that last verse, to my surprise, the tears started flowing. Chris looked at me funny and I mumbled, "I can't listen to that song. It does that to me every time!" I think he gets it because, quite honestly, my big brute of a husband cried at the end of The Notebook too!

Maybe I should reproduce the lyrics here, in case you don't know the song:

Mark Schultz - Walking Her Home

Looking back
He sees it all
It was her first date the night he came to call

Her dad said son
Have her home on time
And promise me you'll never leave her side
He took her to a show in town
And he was ten feet off the ground

(Chorus)
He was walking her home
And holding her hand
Oh the way she smiled it stole the breath right out of him
Down that old road
With the stars up above
He remembers where he was the night he fell in love
He was walking her home

Ten more years and a waiting room
At half past one
And the doctor said come in and meet your son

His knees went weak
When he saw his wife
She was smiling as she said he's got your eyes

And as she slept he held her tight
His mind went back to that first night

(Chorus)
He was walking her home
And holding her hand
Oh the way she smiled it stole the breath right out of him
Down that old road
With the stars up above
He remembers where he was the night he fell in love
He was walking her home

He walked her through the best days of her life
Sixty years together and he never left her side

A nursing home
At eighty-five
And the doctor said it could be her last night
And the nurse said Oh
Should we tell him now
Or should he wait until the morning to find out

But when they checked her room that night
He was laying by her side

Oh he was walking her home
And holding her hand
Oh the way she smiled when he said this is not the end
And just for a while they were eighteen
And she was still more beautiful to him than anything
He was walking her home
He was walking her home

Looking back
He sees it all
It was her first date the night he came to call

To Perm or Not To Perm, That is the Question

I am debating about whether or not to perm my hair. Life-shattering, world-shaking, big-time important debates here, let me tell ya! Anyways, I've been going back and forth about this for a long time.


Chris liked my hair curly and has often mentioned that he'd like to see it that way again. I had straight hair up until I was in the 5th grade (I think that's when mom took me to have it permed). From then on, I had curly hair. I don't know what happened to my hair after that, but the perms would not relax over time or grow out--my hair stayed curly. I finally started straightening my hair with hair driers with brush attachments when I was around 22. I have been doing that ever since. Nearly ten years of straightening my hair and experimenting. I always had to "do" something to my hair. I couldn't just get up and go. I couldn't just let it dry naturally and go. I always had to "fix" it. Well, in the last couple of years, I had finally gotten my hair to the point where I can blowdry it with the brush attachment and go. I don't have to tease it, spray it, pin it up, etc. I have finally become one of those girls who can run her hands through her hair! I remember my parents teasing me when I was a teenager about how much hair spray I used and how stiff my hair was ("Ouch! I got a splinter from patting you on the head."). Now my hair is long, straight, and product-free!


So why the urge to perm now? Well, for one, sometimes I think with my body type now (I am still trying to lose weight from baby #3), it just doesn't look right on me. For two, now that I have gotten to the point where I don't feel the urge to style my hair, I wonder if curly hair would be easier and I COULD just get out of the shower and go. That's especially been persuasive to me when thinking about going camping. I don't want to be the prissy girl that brings her hair drier to camp out! But, I also don't want to be the frizzy weirdo either. Without the blowdrying, my hair either flattens itself on my head and around my face or it frizzes up and has a slight wave to it. Either way is TOTALLY unattractive! So, I was thinking that maybe I should get it permed, if for no other reason, than that it would be easier to care for when camping.

I am thinking of a loose curl, more of a wave, so I could still blowdry it straight when I want to. But, I am scared. I have spent so many years getting my hair to the point that I actually like it, I don't want to ruin it! Today, for the second time in the last couple of months, I had a stranger tell me I had beautiful hair. I'm afraid that perming it again will ruin me. If I hate it, I'll be stuck again with decades of curls and my hair will have to go through years and years before it will be the same again. Ugh, is it worth it? And what will I really look like? I've tried those makeover programs where you superimpose a hairstyle on your head, but it still looks fake and not the way I would wear my hair.

Ack! Why am I wasting so much time trying to make this stupid decision!? I've been debating this for about a year now. The camping thing is what has intensified my debate. My family reunion/3-day camping trip is coming up in three weeks!


Another aspect of this is that I have long been trying to find a beautician/barber/ hairdresser, whatever you want to call them, that I trust. You constantly hear of women being comfortable at their beauty shop, as though they are among friends. Their stylists know them and their whole families and all of their intimate secrets. I've never found someone like that. And consequently, I believe, I have never liked the results when I walk out of a salon. I absolutely despise going to a salon. I walk into one and feel like an outsider. I don't think I have ever had a stylist that treated me friendly enough that I wanted to go back or ever trust her with my hair again. And my hair does funny things anyways. Any time I get it cut, it's like it goes into shock. It acts like a spaz for several days and I can do nothing with it! It's just unnerving to walk into a salon and have everyone look at you like you don't belong there. My hair is important to me and I hate having to trust it to someone who is unfriendly. Which is sad because I absolutely love to have someone play with my hair. That's better than a massage for me! Yet, trips to the salon (very few and far between) are always a source of stress instead of enjoyment.


I've only known one friend who had a great relationship with her stylist, enough to recommend her to me, but she is too far away for me to use her. So, I suddenly had a great idea. My dad had this lady that he went to for as long as I can remember. I'm not sure why we never went to her. But, she has known our family since I was a child and even bought my parents' house when they separated. And it suddenly dawned on me that I don't even know if she knows that my dad died! So, maybe I can go see her. Maybe with her knowledge of my family, she can be that stylist that I have a rapport with. So, I am thinking of calling her salon to make an appointment with her. I found out that her old salon closed and a new one opened in its place. I inquired about her and found that she had moved to another salon. Now, all I have to do is call and make an appointment. The only question is, will I? I don't know if I can do it! HELP!

{The pictures, from top to bottom: me in the sixth grade ['88-'89] (lovely, huh?), one of my senior pictures ['94-'95] (not too bad if not for the big glasses), me and a baby from church ['97 or '98?], and the last is me today ['08] (couldn't get the full length of my hair in the picture, but it is long!)}

Okay, so maybe it was MY PMS that pushed me over the edge, but it hasn't gotten any better...

I contacted the superintendent of the Derby schools and he basically just said that the time in the school is only considered when you are applying for a transfer and still live in the Derby school district. When you are in another school district, it basically amounts to nothing--you are no different than anyone else applying to attend. Totally unfair, huh? So, we hit a dead end. The REALLY great (sarcasm) thing is that I researched the school that the girls will go to and am NOT impressed. The scores are much lower and the school is mostly low income students. One of the forms I downloaded to fill out for admission was a permission slip to be able to give the students (all grade levels) information about HIV/AIDS. Can you believe that? I'm sorry, but I don't think my first and second graders need that information and if they did, I would give it to them. Well, think about it--what are the ways that HIV is transmitted? Shared needles (haven't seen too many first and second graders shooting up, and if they are, that's a parent problem!), unprotected sex (again, first and second graders? If so, where are the PARENTS?), blood transfusions (which is regulated now)--are there any others I've missed? It's extremely rare for HIV to be contracted through cuts or injuries, so I don't see the point of telling small children these things. Just another red flag for the quality of this school.

So, then when Chris heard all of this, he wanted to move. I don't want my children in that school either. I want them in their old school as much as he does, but I am just not sure if we can swing a sudden move! There's the cost involved, plus it's not the best time--school starting, family reunion/vacation to Oklahoma, and the party we are hosting for Chris' foster parents. Not to mention, are there any decent houses in the area? We looked into private school a couple of years ago and I refreshed my memory--it would cost over $700 a month to send the girls to either of the bigger Christian schools in the area.

Stress level just elevated! But, Chris calmed down and said they would just have to tough out the year and maybe we can find a house to move to in the next year. And, he added, he would be all over the teachers and principal to make sure that the girls are receiving a good education this year.

My stomach is all in knots and I am still so angry about all of this. I just pray that this year doesn't ruin anything, that Arrena doesn't regress from the progress she's made. It took a lot of effort last year on the part of her teacher, her reading lab teacher, and me to get her to the point where she could move on from first to second grade. I guess I am going to have to step up wherever the school fails. I hope I am ready for the challenge. I pray for strength and wisdom....

One of THOSE Weeks...

Well, to start off the tale of woe, I haven't been able to use my drier all week. I had been hearing this strange sound in the living room late at night and when I went towards the sound, it stopped. I finally found out that there was a growing hole near the baseboard by the front door, so obviously there is a mouse chewing a hole in the wall. I was ticked off. I hate mice and I pay for exterminators, yet I still have numerous pests! But THAT is a whole other tirade! I went and found some mouse poison packs in the garage and threw one in a corner of the garage behind some stuff which is in the vicinity of the backside of the wall with the mystical growing portal. Well, a day or two later, the hole hadn't enlarged any, but there was a stench in the garage, as of that of a dead mouse. Well, I went to put some laundry in the drier in the basement and it came out with the same stench. Thought it was a fluke, so I did another load and it came out the same way. No stench from the outside, only inside. Great. Dead mouse somewhere INSIDE my drier. And of course, Chris claims, "I'll take it apart tonight and find it," but never does. So, I have had to hang everything to dry--clothes, underwear, socks, towels. And since my fabric softener is in the form of drier sheets, you can imagine how stiff everything is! I was going to use my mom's drier, but it rained a couple of days this week which meant Chris took my truck instead of the motorcycle.

Then Wednesday night, Kimmy complained that she didn't feel good. This is an EXTREMELY common complaint with her, so I didn't pay much attention, except my usual, "Go lay down, then." I guess after I went to work, she threw up twice. When I got home, she and Billy both had a fever and Billy was shivering violently and suffering from gads of diarrhea. It's been like that ever since. I thought Kimmy was better because she kept her dinner down Thursday night, but she threw up again this morning. She is complaining that it's unfair for her to be sick because she missed going to the library Thursday (even though I picked up her summer reading prize pack for her as well as an armload of books), going to the zoo today (even though we have a membership and go often AND I brought her home a gift from the zoo's gift shop), and might miss out on two of her friends' parties tomorrow if I'm not convinced she's better. Arrena has been a TREMENDOUS help to me. It's been a little difficult with one in one bathroom and one in the other, both crying for mama. Kimmy even accused me of paying attention to Billy and not to her. Arrena, meanwhile, has been trying to disinfect the house--I can't tell if it's so she won't get sick and miss out on everything or if it's to gain allowance money or if it's just to help me out. Regardless, she has cleaned and helped with the two sickies and even got them some animal masks at the zoo today before she got one for herself. Let's hope she doesn't catch it now.

Today while we were at the zoo, I got a phone call from the school board. Our daughters have been in Derby schools the last two years. We lived in Derby district, even though we were technically in Wichita. I didn't like the neighborhood school--we had lived in that neighborhood when we first moved back here and it is a hotbed of crime and drugs, etc. We got out of there as fast as we could. Even though we were living across the highway from that neighborhood, we were still in that district. I didn't want my kids in those schools. I hear the schools are good, but I didn't want to have to tell my children that they can't go over to any of their friends' houses because I don't know if their parents are crackheads or dope dealers or whatever. Children in that neighborhood run unattended in the streets at an early age. So, we transferred to Pleasantview. It was approved the past two years. But, we moved out of Derby district and into Wichita district. However, Derby enrollment has been down, so they adopted an open enrollment this year where you could get an out-of-district waiver and still be approved to go to Derby schools. The girls are used to the school, have friends, and I have been pleased with their progress and the programs. I didn't think it would be a problem to get the waiver because there is supposed to be a hierarchy of preference--first, children in that neighborhood; second, children not in the neighborhood but have been at the school previously; third, other children out of the district that have never attended that school. Since Arrena has two years in and Kimmy has one, I assumed we would get preferential treatment in the process. We got the call today that Kimmy has a spot, but not Arrena. They offered another school for Arrena, but I said that I would not split the girls up in two different schools--that's stupid. They said the only way they could stay together was to go to one of the schools in the bad neighborhood. I said absolutely not, out of the question. I talked to Arrena's friend's mom, who is a teacher in Derby and she said she was told that they didn't follow the hierarchy, they just drew the applications out of a pile at random. That's great, teaching our kids that it doesn't matter if you work hard and put your time in. And this teacher didn't even get to have her child at the school she works at for the third year in a row--they can't even get it right for the teachers! I am so mad about this! And you can imagine that the girls are really upset about it too. There's been a few tears today over it. And with ten days left until school starts, I don't even know where they will be going to school! I guess it will have to be in Wichita, but I am not 100% sure which school is in our district. UGH!

As if all this isn't enough to drive someone (me) bonkers, Chris is in one of his "woe-is-me" pity-party attitudes. First it was that me and Arrena and her friend ate at the zoo and we didn't think about him enough to bring him some food (he told me he was going to grab something before he came home). So, I babied him and got him KFC for dinner. But, then he whined because he likes to go out riding his motorcycle on Friday nights and he didn't have a babysitter. This ticked me off. First off, just Sunday, he told me that he wasn't going to go out on Fridays anymore, that he wanted to spend the time with the kids. Second, two of the kids are sick. And there he was, trying to decide who he could call to watch them so he could go out. When he figured out he had no one, he sulked and pouted and talked about selling his bike because he ONLY gets to ride it back and forth to work. Waah, waah, waah! So, I said that if I could, I would get off early so he could go. But, as luck would have it, volume was too high tonight, so I only got off 40 minutes early (which is still nothing to sneeze at around there! And certainly better than the extra hour we were threatened with). While I was at work, he texted me on my breaks to see if I was off yet. When I texted "no" back, he replied with, "I knew it." When I got home, he had gone to bed and when I went to tell him I was home, he acted pouty and sulky again. I usually go to the store Friday nights, but I came straight home for him for NOTHING! Now I have to figure out when I can go, which will probably have to be tomorrow morning, which sucks! I guarantee he will probably get on that bike as soon as he gets up and leave me to take three kids, two of them sick, to the store. And what's worse is that the high tomorrow is forecasted to be 100 degrees--lovely weather to be loading groceries in and out with three children in tow! ARGH, but it's just the tip of the iceberg. He has been on my nerves a lot here lately. And now I guess I get to sleep on the couch since both sickies are flanking him in our bed, likely a maneuver on his part as revenge on me for what? Going to work? Not storming out of work so he could go on a BIKE RIDE? For not allowing him to call my mother to babysit in the middle of her working eleven days in a row with no day off? It's all my fault somehow, I am sure. Do men get PMS?

Okay, needed to blow off that steam! I'm all better now....