Thanks, Mr. Phlebotomist!

Earlier this week I had to give blood. This is never fun for me because I have the mortifying tendency to pass out. So, so embarrassing. I had to fast, of course. The overwhelming ramification of this is that I could not have my cup of coffee. No. Coffee. I had to get dressed, motivate JT and MO to get dressed, get us in the car and drive to the doctor's office with no coffee. I was not the least bit pleasant. Just ask my kids. No, wait, don't mention this day to them.





So there I was, stomping my way into the doctor's office with a scowl across my face at the crack of dawn. Or maybe it was 8:00 AM, which is the crack of dawn to most homeschoolers. Of course there is a guy hacking and coughing H1N1 germs all over the waiting room. I ordered the kids to not breathe as I glared at the sicko. I would've had all the compassion in the world for his plight IF I'D HAD A CUP OF COFFEE!!!! Thankfully, we only had to wait a few moments before I was called back for the torture.





The phlebotomist glanced at the kids and said, "No school today?" Snarl. I get this question all the time. All. The. Time. I hate this question. I find it rude and annoying. What business is it of the masses whether or not my kids are skipping school? Is everyone an undercover truancy officer? So when Mr. Phlebotomist asks me this question on a morning with no caffeine, I give him a surly, "We homeschool." Then I proceed to tell him all about my ridiculously Victorian tendency to pass out at the sight of my own blood. He quickly and graciously moves me to a private room where I can recline while giving blood. He proceeds to tell me that he and his sister were homeschooled and loved it. He distracted me throughout the bloodletting with wonderful stories of growing up homeschooled. He gave me his positive opinions on the socialization of homeschoolers. I was so wrapped up in the conversation that I hardly noticed the unpleasantness going on with the needle in my arm.





Thanks, Mr. Phlebotomist, for turning my day around!

Stalked!

I am so ridiculously terrified of frogs. Cute, tiny, Kermity frogs scare the shit out of me. It is all because a little tree frog threw himself backwards off a wall and landed on my face many years ago. My face! I’ve just barely regained my sanity from that episode. Frogs are still tiny and cute when there is a thick glass separating me from their crazy jumpadelic tendencies. There was a frog (okay, probably a toad) the size of my arm doing the backstroke in my in-law’s pool one night this summer and I almost lost my mind. I was screeching to the kids, “Get the frog! Scoop him with a bucket and throw him over the wall! Hurry! Eeeeeekkkk, he’s looking at me!!!! Hurry!” I curled myself into the fetal position in a deck chair while the 6, 8 and 9 year old kids tried to get him out of the pool. I am not the brave one when it comes to frogs. I can handle snakes, spiders, pretty much any vermin – just not frogs. My nephew was the hero who scooped the frog up out of the pool and tossed him over the concrete wall. The wall has decorative cut-outs in it and the damn frog crawled back up and peeked over ‘window’ made by one of the cut-outs. All we could see was the top of his head and his eyes. People, his eyes were as big as golf balls. (Or, maybe marbles. Or, maybe skittles.) They were huge froggy eyes! I could see his thoughts through those eyes! And, he was stalking me! His giganto eyes followed me around the pool deck for the rest of the evening. I tried to get the kids to shoot him with a water gun, but they thought that would be mean. Mean, my ass! The frog was trespassing and deserved to be persecuted by water gun!

I need therapy over my frog fear. They are EVERYWHERE and I’m convinced that they STALK ME! Today, I encountered one in the half-bath and was too terrified to move. His tiny little frog eyes peeped at me from under the door. Before I could do anything, he squirmed his way on in and began to hop towards me! Eek! Seriously, if I didn't dig deep I could've spent the day in that tiny room cowering from the frog. Instead, I began squealing like a little girl and jitter-bugged my way out of there. I closed the door in an attempt to trap the critter which was completely ineffective, since it can just crawl under the door. The frog was scaling the wall as I left. Does this mean it will drop down from the ceiling onto my head when I go back in there later today? Because you KNOW I'll forget and go back in. I'm stupid that way. Where is my hubby? Must go find him. He's got some frog-trapping to do.

Update: Hubs caught the frog! I do so love that man! The critter had skeedoodled into the laundry room, probably in an attempt to escape my screams. He was completely covered in lint and looked like a furry, spidery-frog-blob hopping across the floor. What a hoot! A hoot from far, far away, mind you. He was tossed onto the back patio where he sat, dejected and lint-covered.

I just came home from chauffeuring the kids and glanced outside to find a pile of lint sitting next to the cutest green frog. Oh, they're all kinds of cute when they're OUTSIDE and I'm INSIDE behind a nice, thick piece of glass. I think I need therapy. Anyone know of any therapists who specialize in Amphibious Disorders?

Salmonella Shoes

I desperately need more sleep. I've had insomnia for the past three nights and just told JT that we were all going to get salmonella and die because he was standing on the kitchen counter while wearing shoes. Am I turning into the crazy mom who says random, nonsensical things and whose kids stop believing anything that comes out of her mouth? Because she is random. And nonsensical. And a sleep-deprived nut.

Oh, don’t ask why the kid was standing on the counter. His reasoning makes even less sense than contracting salmonella from shoes.

Shake-Up Over Shopping

Okay, so I dropped the kids with Hubs yesterday and went shopping for something to wear to this blasted reunion. I spent 1½ hours in the dressing room of a store filled with beautiful clothes. A store that is filled with ridiculously overpriced clothes that I would never spend that much money on... did I mention how beautiful the clothes are? I just HAD to go in. I don’t get out much and here I was all alone with no children tugging on me and no husband whining about how much he hates shopping. I just had to go into the store with the beautiful clothes. Well, they are beautiful on the pencils in the catalogs, not so much on this bod, I quickly discovered. Although, I did find a top that I fell in love with and asked the barely-post-pubescent salesgirl to help me find something to wear with it. She took off and came back with several items. After I’d tried them all on, she asked me if I liked any of them. I replied, “Yes, they’re wonderful. I like them very much; however, they do not like me.” I think my sarcasm frightened her, so she ran out for reinforcements and I ended up having THREE salesgirls in and out of the dressing room with all kinds of things for me to try. Here are a few of the items, just to give you an idea of what a nightmare shopping has become for me. In case you care. In case, please God, some of you can relate.

1. Pair of pants with snaps down the front that were reminiscent of a baby’s onesie or a sailor’s uniform - only different. As if those two items have anything in common. Anyhoo, here they are. Take a quick peek, but then come back. Don't get lost in the beautiful clothes. Okay, I'll wait. http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=923290&parentid=QUICKSHOP&navAction=jump&isProduct=true The pants came up to my armpits and hung at least a foot past my toes. But, hey, they did fit through the hips, which is a miracle in and of itself. The salesgirl commented that they would need tailoring. Ya think? No thanks, I looked like a






She didn't bring any more pants to the dressing room.

2. Super-Cute Silvery Sparkle Skirt with ruffled pockets. Go ahead, check it out. http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=920098&catId=CLOTHES-SKIRTS&pushId=CLOTHES-SKIRTS&popId=CLOTHES&sortProperties=&navCount=400&navAction=top&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=009&colorName=BLACK%20MOTIF&isSubcategory=true&isProduct=true It was so cute…until it encountered my body. I had to stand with one foot in front of the other to get the damn thing over my hips. The adorable ruffle pockets actually stood up and waved from my hips - like fins. The horror! The cherry on top was when the salesgirl told me that I just didn’t have it on right. (I guess I've reached idiot status now.) “Pull it up,” she orders. I pull it up and now the waist is swimming around my boobs while the ruffle pockets are now waving from somewhere above my waist and the skirt is still groaning over my hips. More horror! I think it’s too large and that you're not wearing it right she says. WTF?! Where are the 38 year old salespeople? Why must they all be 22 years old and perfect-looking? She brings me a size smaller and a size larger (at my request). I determined that only a pencil can wear the Super-Cute Silvery Sparkle Skirt. I am no pencil. I am the slightly scuffed eraser that has been stuck on the top of the pencil and worn into the shape of a pear.

3. Super Fun Purple Skirt! Oh, I LOVED this one! Never in a million years would I have pulled this off the rack, but when the salesgirl showed up with it, my eyes glazed over. So, so, so cute! You've got to see this one! http://www.anthropologie.com/anthro/catalog/productdetail.jsp?id=923347&catId=CLOTHES-SKIRTS&pushId=CLOTHES-SKIRTS&popId=CLOTHES&sortProperties=&navCount=400&navAction=top&fromCategoryPage=true&selectedProductSize=&selectedProductSize1=&color=050&colorName=PURPLE&isSubcategory=true&isProduct=true How fun is this skirt?! My first thought when I put it on was, oh shit, you can see my knees. No one should be subjected to my knees. They’re gnarly and wrinkly and generally scary-looking. But the salesgirls, all three, squealed, "Oh, I love it!” In unison, no less, so I almost bought the skirt because I was high on their squealing and the dressing room lighting. (I’ve decided that I want all of my surroundings lit with this particular dressing room lighting.) I was close to triumphantly yelling, “Done!” and ripping out my credit card. Until. Oh, until. Until I sat down in the Super Fun Purple Skirt. Hmmm…now the knees ain’t lookin’ so bad because the varicose veins and cottage cheesy thighs have been exposed. Oh the freakin’ horror!


I left with the top and, sadly, no bottom, so now I must gear up to tackle the stores again this weekend for the rest of the outfit. To all 22-year-old-perfect-looking-salesgirls, consider yourself on notice. You've got your work cut out for you this weekend.