Fiddledeedee

Usually I sit down at my computer at night, after the children are fast asleep, and I write a post. But not last night. Just before we put the children out of our misery to bed, I took 2 Tylenol PMs. Two. Because I had cramps that would kill any mortal man. By the time the children were all tucked in, the Tylenol PM started to work their magic, and I could no longer find my computer. Much less put two coherent thoughts together. Not that that is a prerequisite to my post writing. So, much like a homing pigeon, my inner compass found it’s way to my comfy bed, I crawled in, and was blissfully asleep by 8:00.

This morning I had a little bit of a Tylenol PM hangover. And cramps. And bad hair. I tell you all of this only because it will set the tone of what will follow.

This week, Emme has been involved in another VBS. We made this decision because we felt like the girls needed a little time away from each other. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that rot. And it does. For awhile. Jensen missed his older sister terribly as evidenced when he carried her pajamas around all morning, along with his usual “Ruff” the dog, and his own favorite big blue blanket, and little blue blanket. It was an armful. Cailey talked nonstop about how she missed her sister.

Great, it’s working, I thought to myself each day.

And then, when the two girls caught sight of each other again, they embraced in a warm hug, set to the tune of “I Love You Truly.” And they would hold hands all the way out to the car.

I wipe away a tear.

But once inside the car, all bets would be off, each day. And the bickering would begin. “MOM, she touched me. She looked at me. She made a funny face. She’s humming. She’s thinking about touching me.”

Can’t we all just get along? Once again, if my Dad is reading this, you can bet he’s chuckling. Revenge, like a fine wine, improves with age.

This morning was the culmination of the weeks events. The families were all to attend the closing VBS ceremony. And so, the mommy, daddy, Cailey, and Jensen all arrived to cheer Emme, who was seated with her class among the hundreds of other children.

Now remember, I have cramps, a Tylenol PM hangover, and really bad hair. The MC on stage asks for a volunteer from the audience. All 300 children raise their collective hands. Then the MC says, “I need a volunteer who can jump rope.” Only 10 of the 300 children put their hands down. “And that volunteer must have a parent present who can also jump rope!”

Oh dear God, no.

Only another 3 children put their hand down. Now he has approximately 287 children to chose from. He zeros in on my Emme. She jumps up. The MC asks her, “do you want to bring your mom or your dad up here?”

This is where I closed my eyes and started praying, and in the span of 10 seconds, it went something like this:

“Oh please God, no. Tell her to pick her daddy. I have cramps, you know. And I’m still a little dizzy. And I’m wearing white pants. Please God. I’ll do anything you ask. I’ll become a nun. Oh, that’s right. I’m no longer Catholic. I’ll become a missionary. Yeah. I’ll go wherever. Africa. Even though you know I don’t do well in the heat. Just please God, tell her to pick her daddy. He’s a better jump roper, I’m certain of it. Oh, please, oh please……..”

“My DADDY!!!”

“Thank you Lord. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

So, never one to shy away from making a spectacle of himself in public, (and you thought he was the serious one)  Fiddledaddy trudged up onstage and was forced to don flippers, a mask and snorkel, and a big ugly Cat In The Hat type headwear. All while jumping rope.

And wouldn’t you know it, we just ran out of tape on our video camera, and didn’t bring it.

Well, the whole thing was hysterical. From my perspective, of course. But, when Jensen realized that his daddy was up onstage and no longer sitting near him, he began with The Screaming. Now, this was a rather loud affair, but Jensen’s screaming caused nearly everyone to turn to see why someone was torturing this small boy trapped in his stroller.

So, when daddy exited the stage, I exited the event and took Jensen out to the playground. In the rain. Which did wonders for my hair.

To make a long story short excruciating, we all survived.

So, tonight I’m coming to you with the events of my day.  And now I must begin packing, just in case the good Lord sends me on a mission trip.  A promise is a promise.  I only pray that they sell Tylenol PM in Siberia.  Or wherever.

Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!!!!

I was slicing tomatoes for the evening meal when I heard Cailey ask, “Mom, can we listen to some music?” A little music sounds good. It’s a step up from the sounds of sibling bickering that I’m forced to referee while slicing and dicing.

“Cailey, what do you want to listen to?” I ask as I prepare myself mentally to listen to their VBS music for the ONE THOUSANDTH time.

“Hip hop.”

My knife comes to a sudden stop midway through a cucumber. “What did you say?”

“You know, Mom, HIP HOP.” As though saying it louder and enunciating it more clearly will help me to better understand her sudden switch in musical genre. Because, she has a mother who is, after all, ancient, by any five year olds standards.

“Where did you hear about Hip hop?” Knowing full well that the words “hip” and “hop” have never passed my lips linked together in the same sentence. Near exasperation, “Mom, you know, Hammer Time.”

“Oh. Well. Sure.”

She’s referring to M.C. Hammer’s “Can’t Touch This” CD that originally made it’s debut back when parachute pants were all the rage, and yes, I owned three pair. One of which was tye dyed. And right this very minute I shudder to think how big my behind would look in them now.

My children’s musical collection is limited to Veggie Tales, lullaby tapes, Bear in the Big Blue House, children’s praise music, and Baby Einstein.

And M.C. Hammer.

When Emme was very small, for some odd reason, I was listening to an oldies station in the car, and “Can’t Touch This” came on. I watched this usually demure little waif totally ROCK OUT in her carseat. And since I know that the brother is a Godly man, and there is nothing offensive on the CD, I did what any mother who does not indulge in her child’s every whim would do. I bought it for her at once.

So, I was able to enjoy “Don’t Touch This” while I finished dinner. Because, oh for the love of mike, why do children have to listen to music that is SO LOUD! (And if my Dad were to read this he will be chuckling at this moment. Revenge is sweet.) Occasionally I would look over into the family room to watch my three children gettin’ jiggy wit the sounds of some hip hop. While toppling the furniture.

And I noticed that every one of my children inherited their mother’s absolute lack of any rhythm and dance capabilities whatsoever.

It was a proud moment, to be sure.

Whenever I’m feeling, um, sluggish, I chug a big glass of water laced with a teaspoon or so of orange flavored Metamucil. I don’t call it Metamucil, though. I refer to it as my Drain-O. It works in the same manner.

Don’t worry, my WFMW topic is not on constipation. Although, I’m not above it. Next week? You never know.

Today, I’d like to tell you about a sure fire way to clean out your drains. For free. FREE? Oh yes, my thrifty friends. Drain-O, the one for the actual drain, can be a little pricey. And I’ve heard it’s rotten for the environment. I’ve already done enough to upset the ecology of the planet. What with all hair dye I’ve washed down the drains. And I won’t even talk about what I’ve attributed to the land fill with disposable diapers, plus other unmentionables. So, I try to be ecologically minded whenever possible.

Recently, my bathroom sink drain was stopped up. And not just slow, but had come to a full and complete stop. For some odd reason, everyone in the house tends to gravitate to my sink. I tried one of the “homemade” drain relief recipes. But frankly, the sink just started bubbling and foaming at the mouth and it scared me. And it didn’t work.

I went outside and grabbed the garden hose. It became a family effort. The hose didn’t quite reach the drain, so we had to get creative. We threaded the drain through the crack in the master bedroom door, and then through the crack in the bathroom door, and that gave us the extra two feet we needed to reach the drain. One family member positioned himself at the water spout. One stood at the back door, another by the bedroom door. I manned the business end of the hose. I shoved the hose down into the sink drain, and placed a washcloth around it to force all water into the drain, and covered the overflow hole with another washcloth. Then I yelled “LET HER RIP,” and my command was passed down through the ranks to the faucet controller. Within moments, my sink was draining smoothly.

One word of caution. Always, let me repeat, always check your garden hose to make certain the no creature of the lizard variety has taken up residence, BEFORE you bring said hose into the house. I’m just sayin’.

For more Works For Me Wednesday tips, head over to Rocks In My Dryer.

Mrs. Smits was new to the Phoenix area. She fell in love with the Superstition mountains, the desert sand, the humidity free climate, and most of all, the cactus. Cacti lined the roadways, like bystanders in a parade, with outstretched limbs, welcoming her home. In fact, she wanted to have one of her very own. To celebrate the move, she decorated her new adobe style home in the latest Southwest decor. She borrowed a truck from her neighbor, so that she could bring her new potted cactus home from the nursery. It stood 4 feet tall, and was quite difficult to maneuver out of the bed of the truck into the house. She laughed softly as her hair kept getting tangled in the thorns. She pulled, pushed, and finally finagled it into a place of honor in her entry way. She stood back to admire her cactus. Beautiful.

Days went by, and every time her gaze fell on the cactus, she smiled. But one day, she thought she saw the cactus move. Shake a little. She blinked a few times. Must have been her imagination. The next night, she noticed it again. But the large plant didn’t stop vibrating. The nursery where she bought the cactus was closed. And since it was late, she knew of no one to call. Except the local police station. She began with trepidation, “Um, I’m sorry to bother you, but I didn’t know who else to call. I have a 4 foot cactus that started vibrating, and frankly, it has scared me to death!” With no hesitation, the voice on the other end of the phone said with urgency, “Ma’am, get a large trash bag, as big as you can find, and place it over the cactus. Then gently push it outside your front door. Go back inside and shut your door. Place a towel at the base of your door. And we’ll be right there.” What the? Immediately, she did as she was told. When the police car arrived, she opened her door. He explained. “Ma’am, we’re glad you called. Tarantulas are known to lay their eggs in cactus like these. This vibration means that the cactus is ready to literally explode and hundreds of hand sized tarantulas would be sharing your residence with you.”

She never bought another cactus.

Or so the story goes. This is an alleged urban myth. But I choose to believe it.

I’m terrified of spiders. The other morning, I was enjoying a few moments alone. I thought I’d take a nice hot bath. I climbed into the tub, and noticed when I looked into the vanity mirror, that something was on the ceiling. Above me. In the corner. Watching me. A spider. From my vantage point, I could watch the spider in the mirror, while I decided to cut my bath short. I looked away for just a second. And when I looked back into the mirror, the spider was gone. I leaped out of the bathtub, risking life, limb, and femur bone. My eyes searched frantically upwards. Where did it go? It was the size of a quarter or so, and just looked lethal. It scurried across the ceiling and down into the shower stall. I knew that there was no way I would ever shower again unless I knew for certain the spider was dead. He hid behind the conditioner. Gingerly, I lifted the shower nozzle from it’s resting place, turned the water on “incinerate” and blasted the shampoo, conditioner, and soap bottles. No spider fell out. I spent about $7.50 in water, but still couldn’t find the remnants of any spider. The shower stall looked as though someone had waged a war inside. And that’s exactly what it was. Combat. I left the shower nozzle dangling, and left the bathroom. I was prepared to never go back. I could just move into the children’s bathroom. So, there would be boogers on the mirror. And no one ever flushes. Or changes the toilet roll. But that’s better than spider.

Later that day, Fiddledaddy said that he found a dead spider on the floor of the shower stall. I won the war after all. Or did I?

Tonight as I was trudging down the hall to turn off the girls’ music, I stopped dead in my tracks. A spider. On the floor just outside my children’s’ bedrooms. It looked just like the spider I had murdered last week. Or was it one in the same? Did Fiddledaddy really find a dead spider at the bottom of the shower? Or was this the mate, come back to exact revenge?

Without taking my eyes of the offending arachnid, I began snapping my fingers wildly. This is code in my house for COME QUICK, BUT DON’T SAY A WORD. Fiddledaddy arrived, assessed the situation, procured a paper towel, and killed the spider. Wordlessly.

Had I been alone in the house, I might have been tempted to use a gun. Just to serve as a warning to other spiders not to mess with me. Fortunately I wasn’t alone. Or in possession of a firearm.

One time, when I lived alone, I killed a rather large cockroach inside my pantry door. And left it’s remains on the door jamb, to show other cockroaches what would happen to them if they showed their antennas.

Oh yes I did.

And Fiddledaddy was witness to this. After the roach had been there about a month. And he married me anyway.

This is a short story made dreadfully long to underscore the absurdity of the fact that I’ve chosen a study of Insects for our first unit study next week.

I may need a sedative.

It has come to my attention that many of you are creeped out by the spider.

I’m a bad, bad girl.

I tackle many subjects here at “It Coulda’ Been Worse.” Everything from the mundane to the truly disgusting. It isn’t a spiritual blog, an organizing blog, a cooking blog, a parenting blog, or a homeschooling blog. But I cover all those things because they are a big part of who I am.

Oh yes, I’m multifaceted.

Today, I’m going to talk about homeschool curriculum. Because it’s foremost on my mind right now. And some of my blogging homeschool friends have been asking what I’m going to be using. And I’ve been asking them as well. So, if you’re not a homeschooling reader, I’ll try not to make your eyes glaze over. AND if you stick with me to the end of this post, I’ll have a little something special just for you.

We are on an adjusted year round homeschooling schedule. Ten weeks on, followed by two weeks off, taking June and December off. Which gives me just enough time to stop twitching. We begin again on July 2. Which is why homeschooling is front and center in my cerebral cortex. It coulda’ been worse. I could be writing about the pimple in the middle of my forehead. But until it goes away, it’s still on the table. Just a warning.

I keep a weekly journal of all our school activities. From curriculum to field trips. You can purchase these pre-made, but I go to a terrific website (click here) and download the pages that I want for free. Because I’m controlling like that. And cheap. I print out the type of pages that I want and put them in a 3 ring binder. I buy a ton of binders each year for special projects, etc. and have found that Wal Mart has by far the best price. Wal-Mart is my friend.

Emme is going to be in Second grade, and Cailey will be an official Kindergartner. Jensen will, by all accounts, still be two and practicing his writing skills using markers on the curtains, and doing Science experiments in the toilet. It will be an interesting year. Homeschooling two, while trying to keep him off the ceiling fan. I’ve stocked some extra Excedrin just for me.

Cailey will be doing the basic 3’s. Reading, Writing, and ‘rithmetic. I’m using A Beka Kindergarten to teach her phonics. It worked very well for Emme. She can now read my blog. Darn that A Beka. For writing, she’ll be learning manuscript using “A Reason For Handwriting - A”. This is a great curriculum that is scripture based. And for math, Cailey will be starting with Saxon Math Level 1. I think Saxon Kindergarten would be a little too slow for her since she’s picked up so much from Emme. And since she hears me count to 10 so often.

Emme is going to be doing Saxon Math this year as well. We’ve been using Math U See, but, I think she needs a different format. I’m a huge Math U See fan, but Saxon offers a more hands on approach, and covers the fundamentals of measurement, time, and currency too. And the manipulatives are really cool. The cool factor is an important facet of our curricular decisions. She will be continuing with her cursive writing also using “A Reason For Handwriting.” I’m also adding “A Reason For Spelling Level B” and “Easy Grammar Level 2”. I’ll be paying close attention to that grammar business. So that I will know my semicolon from my dangling participle. That sounds so naughty.

Starting back up in August is a wonderful website called “Spelling Time” which is an on-line spelling guide using games as a reward. Emme LOVES it. And you can adjust it to your own weekly spelling list.

For the all important Bible study, we’ll be reading from, well, The Bible. And each girl has her own “Devotions for Girls, God and Me” workbook from Legacy Press. This is a daily devotion aimed at teaching kids life lessons from a Biblical perspective, and includes a fun activity after each story.

For Science, History, and Geography, we’ll be using the Unit Study approach. I will do two different subjects for each 10 week period. For example, our first unit study is on “Insects” (can’t wait for that one), and then we’ll do a study of Space Travel. I utilize the library for books relating to each subject. And for the “Insect” study we’re going to acquire an ant farm and butterfly sanctuary. Emme will finally get a “pet.” Although the actual “petting” of the pet will be dissuaded.

As a bonus, we’re also going to be attending 3 classes, one day a week with our local homeschool co-op. I look forward to that as I will actually be able to carry on conversation with other moms. If I remember how.

And one last thing. I can’t stress this enough. Attend used curriculum sales. Armed with a list of what you want to buy, and what it would cost new. The best on-line site that I’ve ever found for both buying and selling used curriculum is VegSource.com. You can find them here.

It will be a fun-filled year. Now, for you non-homeschoolers, I wanted to include this for you. Whether or not you homeschool, everyone is interested in their children becoming better readers. Well, I was poking around on the internet, and I came across a list of children’s books that are to be avoided. I thought it might come in handy.

Because I’m inexplicably drawn to humor that is in poor taste.

Children’s Books To Avoid

1. You’re Different — And That’s Bad
2. The Boy Who Died from Eating All His Vegetables
3. Robert: Dad’s New Wife
4. Fun Four-Letter Words to Know and Share
5. The Kids’ Guide to Hitchhiking
6. Kathy Was So Bad That her Mom Stopped Loving Her
7. Curious George and the High-Voltage Fence
8. All Cats Go to Hell
9. The Little Sissy That Snitched
10. Why Can’t Mr. Fork and Mrs. Electrical Outlet be Friends?
11. Grandpa Gets a Casket
12. Controlling the Playground: Respect Through Fear
13. The Pop-Up Book of Human Anatomy
14. Strangers Have the Best Candy
15. Whining, Kicking and Crying to Get Your Way
16. Things Rich Kids Have, But You Never Will
17. Daddy Drinks Because You Cry
18. Your Nightmares Are Real
19. You’ve Got Hepatitis B, Charlie Brown
20. Valuable Protein and Other Nutritional Benefits of Things from Your Nose

And if you can come up with any additional titles, please feel free to leave them in the comments section. Keeping in mind, as always, that this is a family friendly blog.