The Hills Are Alive

You know, all Captain Von Trapp really needed was the Supernanny.

This is what I have determined after 5 months of rehearsals for The Sound of Music. We are now down to our final dress rehearsals and finally start performances next week. At this point I can't wait until it's over. It's been fun, somewhat, but this particular production of The Sound of Music has to be the biggest train wreck of any show I have ever been affiliated with. Not that I've been in a ton of shows. In fact, I haven't been in one since high school, but still, it has been a lot harder than it had to be.

Two weeks from now H will be at her kindergarten assessment, and all of this will be but a memory.

This post really sucks. Maybe when the play is over I will be getting more sleep and will be able to think a little more clearly. See, little more clearly doesn't even makes sense. Perhaps if I could think anything but Do, a deer, a female deer I could form a full and correct sentence.

Why is it?

Why is it that I can think of great blog posts while I'm driving down the road, but the minute I sit down at my computer they are gone?

Ditto on story ideas.

And why is it that now the I am not supposed to be doing much of anything in order to let my back heal up that I really want to restart P90x?

Why is it that you can have 200 channels and there still isn't anything on?

And why does your kid complain about being hungry and as soon as you stop and get them a kids meal they are no longer hungry?

And why can't I find my black velour sweat pants?

Why is it that kids only get sick in the middle of the night?

BUI (Or Help I’ve Fallen and I Can’t Get Up)

Lortab makes you wonky. I'm only taking half a pill, and I'm still getting pretty loopy. According to the doctor my sacrosiliac joint is out of place. So it's off to the chiropractor again.

This whole thing started on Mother's Day when I bent slightly to pick something up out of the recliner. Twinge, spasm, zap, pow and my back was out. After calling to my husband to come help me straighten up, we iced it and I hobbled around for the rest of the day. After a visit to the chiropractor, pain meds and a few days of taking it easy, it felt better. Until today, when I tried to get a yogurt out of the fridge and it happened again. Only this time it was worse and I ended up laying on the kitchen floor for 15 minutes while H fretted about what to do. She decided we needed to call Daddy, except he was on an airplane and it wouldn't do any good.

After a bit of a rest and a few bitten back swear words I made it to the recliner and called my dad to come help me. After almost passing out from having a pain pill on an empty stomach, we managed to make it to the doctor.

So here I am sitting in my recliner, watching tv and being thankful that my husband bought me a netbook so I can at least Google my condition and keep up on Facebook.

Ouch!

I hurt my thumb so it's hard to type and I've been really busy with rehearsals for the Sound of Music. But I have thought of some good posts in my head so as soon as I can type again and remember them, I'll update this site.

Why I Hate Gum

I hate chewing gum. Hate it, hate it, hate it. I'd keep going on the hates, but I don't want to keep typing it, and I'm too lazy to cut and paste. Why do I hate gum, you might ask? It's complicated, and it wasn't always that way. When I was a little kid I used to love gum. My favorite was watermelon Bubbalicious. One year for my birthday I got a pink gumball machine. Gum was everywhere! And after it got into hair and the couch and carpet one too many times, my mom declared our house a gum free zone. And that was pretty much the end of my gum chewing. While I was once solidly on the side of gum chewer, or even on the fence, I am now completely in the gum is evil and should be banned camp. For awhile it was illegal to chew gum in Singapore. A country after my own heart.

What do I have against gum? Well, let's see.

First of all it's disgusting to listen to someone chew gum. Chomp chomp chomp. And it's more disgusting to watch them.

When people pop their gum it makes me want to pop them one.

People don't just put their gum in the trash when they are done with it. No, they spit it out on the ground, stick it under tables, on the outsides of trash cans; basically anywhere someone is guaranteed to step in it you can find it.

Children find dried up gum stuck under a table and put it in their mouths. Eww.

Have you tried getting gum out of carpet? Hair? Have you had someone tried to get gum out of your hair.

I can't stand the smell of it. Doesn't matter what flavor, and I especially hate mint.

It is unsightly to see a piece of chewed up gum on someone's plate. I don't want to see that. No one wants to see that.

I realize I am in the minority, and even my beloved Singapore repealed the gum ban. Within hours the sidewalk in front of the airport was covered in spit out gum, but that's what they get for backing down. I myself am even being a little lenient. My little 4-year-old has discovered gum. I have given her the following rules: if I ever find a piece of chewed gum in or near the car, you won't be chewing gum anymore. I find it on my floor or anywhere else in the house, you won't be chewing gum any more. If I have to cut it out of your hair, no more gum for you. And it gets spit out before coming to the dinner table, and it only gets spit in the kitchen trash. And if you swallow it, you're done with gum.

So far she's doing okay abiding by the rules, but one of these days she's going to mess up and then it's "Welcome to Singapore." No gum allowed.

Sunday Dinners

Growing up, almost every Sunday dinner was the same. Roast beef, mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and dinner rolls. Sometimes instead of beef we would have chicken. My mom got quite tired of this meal as it was what she had weekly growing up, but the rest of us loved it so much that three weeks out of four that's what was on the table. As the years went by my brothers and I learned to cook. All four of us can make this meal without thinking about it. My brother Nate makes the world's most delicious mashed potatoes. Unfortunately, they may also be the world's unhealthiest potatoes. Low-fat is not in his vocabulary. I don't even want to guess at the amount of calories and fat they contain. My brother Mike makes better gravy than I do. To be fair, he tries harder and takes more time. But I am the family champion at making dinner rolls. Out of the kids, I mean. Still can't outdo my dad.

My husband Brent's family liked having waffles for their Sunday dinner. And they all like to put peanut butter on their waffles and pancakes. Crazy, I know. On the plus side, all I have to do to make Brent extra happy is serve breakfast for dinner.

My family still gets together for Sunday dinner almost every week. To this day if Nate is the one cooking Sunday dinner, it will involve roast beef, chicken or a turkey, and have mashed potatoes. If my brother Mike is in charge we are probably having steak or bar-b-qued chicken. I assume my brother Ryan can make something other than fajitas, but that's really all I've ever seen him make. Of course, he is the baby. A 22 year-old baby, to be precise.

I like traditions. They connect us with our past. In my own little family I have carried over a lot of the traditions that I grew up with. We've even added a couple from my husband's side, though there aren't that many he can remember. As mired in tradition as our Sunday dinners have been, changes are seeping in. As the oldest child and the only girl, it usually falls to me to champion traditions, which is why I can't quite understand why I have started serving tacos for Sunday dinners. Almost every time my family comes to my house, we have tacos. Sometimes we have chicken enchiladas, but we mainly have tacos.

I like tacos. They are easy to make as most of the preparation can be done the night before. People put them together themselves and get them just the way they want. And they are cheap. Particularly if you found a deal on taco shells and got them for 10 cents a box. Come to think of it, that is probably why I started serving tacos so often. Everyone loves Taco Sunday, as it's come to be known. Well, maybe not Nate, but everyone else is very excited for Taco Sunday.

It's gotten to the point where my brothers aren't sure if I can cook anything other than tacos. Sure I can, I tell them. I can also make burritos. I think to prove a point next time I'll make something else. Like pot roast or stew, or maybe some tacos.

Why I Don’t Homeschool

I know quite a few people who homeschool. This post isn't about the merits of homeschooling, or in opposition to homeschooling. It's never been something I have considered, but I did think of a list of reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea for me to do.

1. History lessons would consist of letting H watch the History Channel. Since they are now showing shows about loggers and theoretical scenarios involving life after people, I'm not sure how much history H would learn.
   
2. I have been consistently inconsistent with making sure H completes/does her homework for preschool. Pretty certain that doesn't bode well for the possibility of me being her teacher.
   
3. International studies would be completed by watching Ninja Warrior episodes on G4. Hey, it happens in Japan.
   
4. In an ongoing theme, home economics would be taught by Project Runway and Iron Chef America. Why do it yourself when you can get the experts to do it for you? Of course, H tends to critic my plating skills after watching Iron Chef, so maybe that would be a bad idea.
   
5. I suck at math. I really suck at math. I am in no way qualified to teach H math. Excel, yes. Quicken, yes. Budgeting, sort of. But math other than counting? Not so much.
   
6. H and I need a break from each other, otherwise we start to fight. If we were together all the time and I had to teach her school stuff, in addition to all the life skills stuff, I think we would go insane. As it is by the time Brent gets home on Friday night after being gone all week, we're ready to be separated.
   
7. Since I don't really like people, H would be too isolated here at home. The only way she's going to make friends is if she goes somewhere that has a lot of kids her age.
   
8. I really like to buy back to school supplies, and what is the point of buying a princess backpack and lunch box if you don't leave the house?
   
9. Our field trips would consist of going to Wal-Mart to buy groceries. Not too fun, and not too educational, especially considering that sometimes we do fake fighting when we're at the store.
   
10. We have lots of art supplies and crafts, but I am not artistic at all and should not be the one teaching H craft skills.
    
11. H already has awesome computer skills, and can beat older kids at Mario Kart. So the exorbitant amount of time she spends with electronic devices needs to be drastically reduced. Since our house is full of said devices, and people who are always using them, school seems a better bet.
    
12. I am not an athletic person. Exercise around here consists of P90x, which while awesome, is not exactly designed for 4-year-olds. H loves to go to the playground, and I would love for her to go and for me to stay home. Recess anyone?
    
13. Lunch around here is almost always quesadillas. If I get her a lunch pass, that's one more meal I don't have to prepare.
    
14. I bought a whole bunch of supplemental learning supplies to help H learn the alphabet and numbers and colors. The majority of them are still sitting in a pile, since she doesn't really want to go through them, and I don't really want to push her. 'Cause I'm lazy.
    

    
     

    So there you have it. I'm a slacker, but I own it. So as I prepare to throw H on the mercy of the public school system, I hope it works out for her. Because I don't have a backup plan.