I accompanied the Davester on a field trip today. The three other little boys in our group were quite busy. David said, "We've got the squirrely ones in our group, Mom. Just please, don't embarrass me by like, you know, getting that sargeant voice on and yelling at them!"
What? Me????? I restrained myself and was maybe even a little bit passive in handling the squirrels of out respect for my son. I kept my eye on them and made sure that they didn't get lost. I held back many times when I wanted to....quietly admonish them. I think David thought I was being too passive because at one point, he bursted out with...
"Hey! My mom used to be a teacher! She knows how to handle kids real well."
I think that did the trick. Squirrels were quiet all the way home.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
PMS...
Now stands for Peri-Menopause Syndrome. It hits approximately 40 million women in the U.S. alone each year. The symptoms? Mini-hot flashes, followed by being really cold, a sassy mouth, short fuse, sassy mouth, short fuse, sassy mouth, short fuse.
The treatment?
Take her out for dinner once a week, run her a long hot bubbly bath and reassure her that you love her anyway. If you really want it to go into remission, research has found that if you take the kids and go somewhere for the weekend and leave her home alone, this one act of kindness, can be a miracle cure. The effects last for at least 18 days. When the next "cycle" hits (youknowhatimean), reapply this technique. Only, add one more day. Keep doing this for the next ten years, until menopause and then everyone.will.be.happy.and.safe.
The treatment?
Take her out for dinner once a week, run her a long hot bubbly bath and reassure her that you love her anyway. If you really want it to go into remission, research has found that if you take the kids and go somewhere for the weekend and leave her home alone, this one act of kindness, can be a miracle cure. The effects last for at least 18 days. When the next "cycle" hits (youknowhatimean), reapply this technique. Only, add one more day. Keep doing this for the next ten years, until menopause and then everyone.will.be.happy.and.safe.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Dear Mom,
Dear Mom,
I just want you to be comforted in the fact that my DH (dear husband) has taken up your mantra when it comes to my social behavior. He doesn't say the things that you used to say like, "Sheri, be a lady." "Put your legs together, be a lady." Instead he says....
"Sheri, you can't wear those jeans! Every time you bend over..good grief!"
"Sheri, reign it in." (this is a response to my crass language at times or my sarcasm).
"Sheri, we're not in Braham." (This is where I grew up and everything was perverted, so if I hear a certain word, he'll reassure me they didn't mean it that way. Or if I sound crass, I get reprimanded. That's usually the case.)
"Where did you get that shirt? Don't bend over."
If I snap my gum in church, I get "the look".
If I put too much powdered sugar on my pancakes, I get the comment of "Think that's enough?".
Anyway..I've been in trouble alot lately. Funny thing is, just like when I was 15, it doesn't seem to make a difference. I'm almost 40. And I like.lots.of.powdered.sugar.on.my.pancakes. I've heard, "Reign it in" too much lately. I have been feeling sassy..he's right. I'll work on it. My mouth continues to get me in trouble. No worries, Mom.
Your daughter...still..trying to figure out what it means to be a lady.
I just want you to be comforted in the fact that my DH (dear husband) has taken up your mantra when it comes to my social behavior. He doesn't say the things that you used to say like, "Sheri, be a lady." "Put your legs together, be a lady." Instead he says....
"Sheri, you can't wear those jeans! Every time you bend over..good grief!"
"Sheri, reign it in." (this is a response to my crass language at times or my sarcasm).
"Sheri, we're not in Braham." (This is where I grew up and everything was perverted, so if I hear a certain word, he'll reassure me they didn't mean it that way. Or if I sound crass, I get reprimanded. That's usually the case.)
"Where did you get that shirt? Don't bend over."
If I snap my gum in church, I get "the look".
If I put too much powdered sugar on my pancakes, I get the comment of "Think that's enough?".
Anyway..I've been in trouble alot lately. Funny thing is, just like when I was 15, it doesn't seem to make a difference. I'm almost 40. And I like.lots.of.powdered.sugar.on.my.pancakes. I've heard, "Reign it in" too much lately. I have been feeling sassy..he's right. I'll work on it. My mouth continues to get me in trouble. No worries, Mom.
Your daughter...still..trying to figure out what it means to be a lady.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Speaking of garbage...
Why is the kitchen garbage always brimming near the top of the can? Why can it never just stay 1/3 full, even 1/2 full? No! It is always near the top! Then, it spends most of the time out from under the kitchen sink, and it's in.my.way.
Just asking.
Just asking.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Monday, February 4, 2008
More cake, please..
I'm in a hotel in downtown Chicago. We attended DH's 25 year reunion from Moody Bible Institute. I was getting a little antsy and slightly bored when they all stood in a semi-circle and started singing. I told DH if they started with KumbaYah, I was out of there. Now, I love singing, don't get me wrong! But, when the tall man was in front of me, lots of unknown people around me, I started getting a little claustrophobic. So, I started looking around for some entertainment. It didn't take long and I found some. There was a man who was standing really close to the dessert table.
His pants were so very close to the taramusi cake. With each verse of "Great is Thy Faithfulness", he kept getting closer and closer. I couldn't take it! I slowly reached my hand behind this man's fanny to grab the cake before his pants experienced the creamy disaster. Whoo! I made it. Then, just to make sure, I leaned way over to check out his pants. Maybe it was the mom in me. Yes! He was all clean. I happened to look over across the room, and found a kindred spirit. A woman who saw me, and smiled. We shared the joy together. On verse 4 of the old hymn, I excused myself to call the kids.
When I returned...(this is the best part of the whole story)...my husband was talking to the man who's pants had been saved. I decided at that moment to exert my introverted self and to let the man know of his near disaster. I told him how his bum was very close to the fateful cake and how I moved it. I also told him that if he saw me looking at his bum, I was just checking to make sure that the cake wasn't there, afterall, wouldn't he want to know if he had cake on his bum? Then, I looked at his sweet wife who was donning a very stylish (for the 80's) gingham checked jumper with embroidered hearts and buttons, that I wasn't checking her husband out. I think my exact words were, "Hey, just want to confess that I wasn't checking your husband out!" Nervous laugh on her part.
Then, in order to take it down a notch, I looked at this gentleman and asked, "So, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a pastor".
"Oh, really? My dad's a Free Church pastor. What type of church do you pastor?"
"Conservative Baptist".
Smile. (Evil smile, because I think to myself..I cannot.wait.to.blog.about.this.)
I just told a conservative baptist preacher that I wasn't checking out his bum.
His pants were so very close to the taramusi cake. With each verse of "Great is Thy Faithfulness", he kept getting closer and closer. I couldn't take it! I slowly reached my hand behind this man's fanny to grab the cake before his pants experienced the creamy disaster. Whoo! I made it. Then, just to make sure, I leaned way over to check out his pants. Maybe it was the mom in me. Yes! He was all clean. I happened to look over across the room, and found a kindred spirit. A woman who saw me, and smiled. We shared the joy together. On verse 4 of the old hymn, I excused myself to call the kids.
When I returned...(this is the best part of the whole story)...my husband was talking to the man who's pants had been saved. I decided at that moment to exert my introverted self and to let the man know of his near disaster. I told him how his bum was very close to the fateful cake and how I moved it. I also told him that if he saw me looking at his bum, I was just checking to make sure that the cake wasn't there, afterall, wouldn't he want to know if he had cake on his bum? Then, I looked at his sweet wife who was donning a very stylish (for the 80's) gingham checked jumper with embroidered hearts and buttons, that I wasn't checking her husband out. I think my exact words were, "Hey, just want to confess that I wasn't checking your husband out!" Nervous laugh on her part.
Then, in order to take it down a notch, I looked at this gentleman and asked, "So, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a pastor".
"Oh, really? My dad's a Free Church pastor. What type of church do you pastor?"
"Conservative Baptist".
Smile. (Evil smile, because I think to myself..I cannot.wait.to.blog.about.this.)
I just told a conservative baptist preacher that I wasn't checking out his bum.
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