Garden Yumminess...Not So Much

Garden Yumminess...Not So Much

The last time we grew a garden was the summer before my 2nd was born. I was actually pregnant but did not know it at the time. Well of course I didn't, otherwise I would not have enjoyed all of those Margaritas while cultivating the garden;)

We have been wanting to replant for a while but have not done it yet. So when do we decide to take on this huge, and I do mean huge, gardening project? Right now, while I am blooming 8 and half months pregnant!! Now, some of you are thinking, "Sounds like the perfect time to me...I mean now you don't have to help!" And while that is true, you must know me to understand my frustration. 

I am a control freak. I mean I get frustrated with my husband for allowing my children to put their pajamas back in their drawers because the cute little jammies never stay folded and end up wadded up behind the drawer making it impossible to close!!! Ahhhhhhhh!!! (That being said I don't want to get up off this couch and put them away:)

So now here we are planting this garden and I am unable to help do anything. I did help lay it out, kind of. I helped decide on what veggies we would be cultivating. I helped prepare the ground, kind of. That is if you count sitting in a chair, in the shade, sipping a fat cup full of water helping. I did hire out my two munchkins to pick the grass out of the dirt. 

But I feel so useless, sitting here while my poor hubby works his tail off. Now before you start feeling sorry for him, he does like it. But I do think he would like it a lot better if I was there sweating beside him. 

So where are we now? The ground has been tilled, cleaned out, tilled, and cleaned out again. We are preparing for The Planting, which of course I will be of little help for again seeing as it requires one to bend over and dig small holes and cover them up, and I seem to have something very large prohibiting the bending process. So once again I will gather said forces, small munchkin people, and send them out to work in the fields. Much like the days if yore and yesteryear before the child labor laws. 

I am quite certain the garden will yield much yumminess but as for right now....not so much!

Never Leaving

Never Leaving!!

I will admit that I am a lucky person! I have two beautiful daughters, a loving and attentive husband, and another small munchkin arriving soon. Everyday I count my blessings. 


We are also blessed with parents who have acquired a beach house at the most relaxing and beautiful beach that has ever existed, Grayton Beach. It is my favorite place to be, and if you have ever been there I am quite certain you would agree. No hotels. No condos. No spring breakers screaming, wetting their t-shirts, and cruising the strip. 


Now if only I could develop some way to stay here forever. What could I do??? Hmmm..... 


I could be a beach chair putter outer. You know the person who brings the ridiculously priced rental chairs out on the beach in the morning and picks them up in the afternoon. I am quite certain I could find lots of other things to do with my in between time!


I could become a beach photographer and charge yuppy families ridiculous amounts of money. I mean think about it: You only take pictures at sunset. You never have to worry about lighting. You never have to worry about costume changes because they always wear white. Then I could charge lots of money for the sitting fee and the prints. Mawahahaha. 


I could run a beach delivery service. No, I am not talking about delivering babies. I am talking about delivering beach things for the beach for poor yuppy beach families that have to drag their multitudes of beach paraphernalia down the board walk, through the sand, and down to the water. The same yuppy families we point and laugh at as we ride by in our beach truck as a storm is approaching and everyone is running from the beach. No, we are not cruel. We are just tired of them allowing their kids to come steal our kids' toys and then walking away and expecting us to watch their little yuppy spawns. 


Or better yet, I could win the lottery. Winning the lottery is the way to go I think. I mean then I don't have to be a slave to the yuppies, and I can hire a pedicurist to do my toes in new fun colors every day. I could hire a cabana boy to smear on my sunscreen and fan me. Or better yet, he could be the one who has to lather up my munchkins who refuse to sit still while I do it. 


Whatever way it happens, I am never leaving!! Sacrifices must be made. 

The Gnat Ninja

The Gnat Ninja

It all started last week on Wednesday. I was getting ready for school when I notice a small reddish brown fly flying around and lighting on the mirror. I just waved it off literally and metaphorically thinking the whole time, "Shoo fly don't bother me!"


In retrospect, I should have shooed him to his death by using my hand to silence his short life. For the next day where there was once one there were now three. And by the weekend, there were a multitude of these pesky, tiny, six legged demons! Maybe that is why they appear red. See its demon eyes!


By Sunday our kitchen and bathrooms were swarming with them. I just waved them off and the girls ran away. My normally laid back husband, however, took on a new persona. He made every effort to kill them. Now this is not an easy feat. You see they don't land for very long and they are quite small (we are talking millimeters here). So spraying was really not possible unless you want to cover your whole house and everything in it with nasty, smelly, and, I hear, poisonous :) bug spray. 


So my dear, normally sweet, husband took on a new approach. He became...The Gnat Ninja!!!

He might not leap buildings in a single bound (difficult with 2 bum knees). He might not be faster than a speeding bullet (also difficult in old age). He is definitely not stronger than a locomotive (although he can lift his 8 month pregnant wife off the floor). But one thing he can do his trap a fly and bring it to meet its Maker. In this case, I am referring to its Syrupmaker since we are from Cairo, Ga "Home of the Syrupmakers".

Their numbers are beginning to dwindle. I have done some research and am scrubbing everything. We are  pouring bleach down the drains where they appear to lay their larvae. We are also quick to enter and exit in order to try to avoid allowing more of the troops to invade our house. Have no fear our children are fine even after being thrown out the door and down the steps ;) 

However, most of the credit for the elimination of our household's fly/gnat species must be given to my husband-The Gnat Ninja!! Hopefully now, with his help, our household will live long and prosper while these annoying pests rest in peace...or at least some where other than in our kitchen!!

At Our Wits End

There is no doubt that I was spoiled by my first child. Now, the first year was hard. She was never happy. I mean we even had to eat in shifts because she did not like to sit down. However, after that I must admit that she has been an easy going and enjoyable child for 99% of the time. 

My second has been the exact opposite. The first year was great and then she turned one and all hell broke lose. Everything came in extremes. She is extremely hyper or extremely happy or extremely loving or extremely mad. The worst, however, is when she is extremely sad. 


Now let me be clear this sadness is not due to some sort of manic depressive disorder. Nor is it due to some sudden loss of a binkie or beloved toy. There is actually no predicting what will bring on the tears. It could be that she doesn't want to go to bed or doesn't want to brush her teeth or is told no about something or sometimes there is absolutely no reason at all. 


For example, today we got home and I told the girls to go wash their hands while I made them a snack. The next thing I know she has flung herself on the floor of the hallway and the tears have begun to flow. Why you might ask or I might want to scream as I fall to my knees throwing my fists up in surrender? I don't know. Maybe she wasn't hungry. Maybe she liked grimy hands. Maybe she was tired and thought the floor would be a soft place to lie down and found it was not. 



Whatever the reason, the crying continued behind closed door (she chose to seclude herself in her room) until I went in 20 minutes later to offer a snack and for some reason it stopped. This is not always the case. We have tried everything! We have timed out, taken away things, rewarded her for good behavior, praised her, spanked her, tried hard to avoid all triggers like land mines laying in wait of destruction of the peace of our household. NOTHING WORKS! We have had 2 hour long crying fits! 


Today I even created a chart with her help. We chose all the things we wanted her to do without whining and crying. I even searched for over 30 minutes for pictures of the Disney Princesses sleeping, getting dressed, and even brushing their hair. She gets a smiley face every time she does something without whining or crying. However, at bedtime she lied about going to the bathroom and did not get a smiley face. Once again, all hell breaks lose. 


We tried everything to calm her down. We hugged her. We threatened her. We took things away. We pointed out that she could still get another smiley. Alas, nothing worked. Eventually, I lost it and started my hyperventilating hormonal crying, which seriously frightened my husband who is trying very hard to keep me from going into preterm labor. He took her outside to calm her down, which made her even louder, and we are still amazed that DFACS was not called as it sound like she was being seriously hurt even though no one was touching her. 


Now, in the calm after the storm, I have searched many sites about what to do. There are all of these suggestions about what to do to prevent tantrums. None of which are helpful to us seeing as we are already doing them all. There are all kinds of suggestions about what to do during a tantrum. None of which help us because we have tried them all to no avail! 


Now the real problem. Yes, she seems to be at her wits end, but now so are we! Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated!! This will be a really bad problem to still have in 8 weeks when we have crying baby to add to the mix. 

What's in a Name?

What's in a Name

So I am 32 weeks pregnant!! Which is great, although I feel a little apprehensive because it was at 32 weeks when I went in to preterm labor with my second darling. We have the nursery ready and all of the 0-3 month clothes have been washed. Speaking of that why do you think that you can put clothes into a box completely clean and after a couple of years in the attic they come out stained? Its like there is some little, mischievous leprechaun up there peeing on everything:)We had to throw away so much! 


Anyway, we have the nursery ready. We have the clothes washed and put away. Last weekend, we bought anything we were lacking, like a Pack-n-Play because the last one met an unfortunate end after my 30 birthday party when someone..... tried to take it down quickly and then really "took it down" like a Bambi's mother on doe day! We have diapers and wipes. What we don't have is a name!


Naming is getting quite ridiculous. It becomes a Facebook epidemic every time I post something complete with multitudes of comments and suggestions that even seem to leak onto other people's walls. It was so funny to me how one time I went to comment on one of my dear friend's walls and found a whole discussion about this little girl's name. I am so lucky to have so many people who care:)


However, that does not solve the problem that the only name this kid has is Lady A. Yes, her name must start with an A. We have an Aubrey and an Addison and multitudes upon multitudes of monogrammed clothing. Anyone who knows us realizes that we are way too cheap, I mean thrifty;) to let those clothes go to waste. 


We have tried Adalyn, Abree, Alivia, Aniston, Archer, Ansley, Alli, Alaina, Alana, Amberly, Analeise...and countless others including Axel Rose;) However, we cannot agree on any. Every time we come close one of us, usually me, changes their mind.  


It is no surprise this is happening. It was very difficult to name our first 2. We actually found the name Aubrey in the boy's section of the name book, and it took forever to come up with Addison (and Brian still pouts about her being name for an adulterous ho on Grey's Anatomy;)'. 


I would like to blame it on Brian whose number one response to name suggestions is " H- No!", but I must admit I am just as picky. I mean "What's in a Name"?...EVERYTHING!! Alas, it looks like we might be in the hospital naming this kid unless we just decide to predetermine her future as a pop star or a duchess and leave her name as Lady A!

Our Awesome Trip to the Publix

Our Awesome Trip to the Publix

Before I begin to reveal the secrets of one of our most successful shopping trips ever, I must be honest. I did not do any couponing for it. My hubby did it all. He slaved and cut and printed and organized. I just split up the list. Hey, it was totally worth it! We spent a total of $110 and saved $145!!! Go ahead stand up and start the slow clap. It deserves it. However, you might want to wait, because when I tell you what all we bought you might want to start an encore.

First so that you can truly appreciate I will bestow upon you our list of items:

2 Stouffer's Family Style Entrees
1 box of Pampers Swaddlers

4 boxes of Nutrigrain Bar 

Pampers wipes

1 package of Pull-Ups

2 Pam Sprays

4 Marie Callendar Meals

3 gallons of milk

4 Juicy Juice bottles

4 Zephyrhills Water (12pk)

Bananas

Grapes

Blueberries

Pepsi Max

1 box of Huggies Supreme diapers

2 Gorton's Popcorn shrimp

Crab Meat

2 Planters Honey Roasted Peanuts

2 jars of Classico Alfredo sauce

1 32 oz Kraft Velveeta Cheese

1 box of Cosmic Brownies

2 boxes of Pepper and Oil Triscuits

2 Skintimate shave gel

2 bags of Doritos

2 pounds of Ground Beef

Squash 

Zucchini

Asparagus

2 packages Strawberries

2 dozen eggs

Rotisserie Chicken

All for $110!!!!

So here is what we do (or in this case what Brian did).

1. Visit Publix site or use Publix circular to make a list of what you need that is on sale. Focus on Buy One Get Ones (BOGO).

2. Look in coupon box for any coupons for items

3. Visit Southern Savers.com and look at their Publix list where they have all of the coupons there are for all of the items on sale. 

4. Print as many coupons as you can. Again, epecially for the BOGO's.

5. Make sure you visit the other store sites, like Food Lion, Harveys, Target, and Rite Aid for any of their coupons.

Helpful hints:

•  If you have BOGO's and then you have a coupon for 1 item then print 2 coupons because you can use two. 
• If you have a manufacturer coupon, you can also use competitor coupons for the same item.
• Sometimes they only take a limited amount of competitor coupons, which is why we split up our list and shop in two different carts.

Here are some of our monumental savings for this week:

1. Zephryhill water- We bought 4-12 packs for absolutely free. How? They were BOGO at 2 for $3.79 which made them $1.90 each. Then we had a coupon for each for $1 off each 12 pack and then a Harvey's coupon for $ 2 off. 

2. The Huggies Box of diapers was originally $19.99. We had a $3 off Publix coupon, a $3 off Food Lion coupon, a $2.50 off Target coupon, and a $2.00 off Manufacturer coupon. So that was $19.99-$10.50=$9.49! (Important: They will sometimes only except one competitor coupon for an item, but sometimes, if you split them up, it will work).

3. Gorton's Popcorn shrimp were BOGO at $2.74 each. We had $1 off each and then $1 off 2. Plus we had another competitor coupon for $1 off each. So we got those for $.25 each. 

4. Pampers box was $19.99- $7 off Target-$2 off manufacturer

Plus, we got really lucky. A woman who was leaving handed us a $5 off $30 Publix coupon as she was leaving and we had $2 off Harveys coupon for fruit and vegetables. 

All in all our trip to the Publix was pretty AWESOME

If Looks Could Kill

If Looks Could Kill

 Thursday morning was really not a pleasant time for me. Now, no, it was not a horrible day, and I know that it could have always been worse. However, I feel the need to share the intense unpleasantness. 




Thursday morning marked my OB appointment where my glucose was tested. Now anyone who has ever been pregnant is going, "YUCK". You know what I am talking about. This is where you have to drink that nastiness disguised as orange soda which tastes nothing like it and has an automatic reaction of gagging. Not only do you have to drink this disgusting mess, but you are not allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight the night before. MIDNIGHT!! That is hard for anyone, but it is especially hard for a pregnant woman and even harder for a pregnant woman who allows herself one cup of coffee each morning. 


Needless to say, I was not in the best mood when I arrived at my appointment at 9:00 in the A.M. As I sat waiting, not happy at all, a girl walked in with her mother. I say girl because she looked all of 16. I glanced up and had to look again to make sure she was actually pregnant. She had a little bump, kind of like the one I have all the time when I am not pregnant. Then she informs the front desk that she finished her glucose drink at 8:15. 

At this point I almost choke. Why you may ask? Well, you have to be between 25 and 28 week to do the glucose test, which means she was as far a long as I am. However, the difference was insane. I know, I know. Everyone is different but this mess is ridiculous!!!

Me!! (not really, but close. I am actually a bit bigger)

Her!!!! (not really, but this is pretty accurate

I now begin to sink into a little bit of depression. However, it is lightened when I get called back and get to talking with my super fabulous nurse and the BEST midwife in history! The bubble bursts though when super, skinny B---- comes back in to the small room to have her finger pricked. I ask her how far along she is. "25 weeks", she responds snottily (I guess the B---- was an accurate description). 

I look at my midwife and say (close to tears), "That is ridiculous! Look at her and look at me!" My midwife says, "Liz this is your third baby! You look great. You can't compare the two!" I feel a little bit better until the super young, skinny b---- opens her mouth and says (totally lacking in any tack whatsoever), "It's my third baby, too."

My midwife and nurse later told me that if looks could kill that little heifer would have bee dead on the spot. Seriously, have some compassion!

Teachers Are Not the Only Ones Who Need to Be Evaluated!

As a Georgia teacher or any teacher for that matter, I give Dick Yarbrough a big HELL YEAH! After this recent column that he wrote. Even if you are not a teacher and no matter what your political persuasion, I am not sure you can argue with this. 

HOW CAN YOU EVALUATE TEACHERS AND NOT EVALUATE SOCIETY?

Oh great. Now, the Obama administration is getting involved in public education in Georgia. That’s all we need. The deft touch of an inept federal government.

Outgoing Gov. George E. Perdue (please tell me he has left the building) agreed to participate in the $400 million Obama Race to the Top program. Our new governor, Nathan Deal, has inherited the thing and turned it over to Erin Hames, his deputy chief of staff.

The program will include a new evaluation system of teachers. For subjects where students take standardized tests, 50 percent of a teacher’s performance will be based on the test scores.

Fair enough. I was assessed my entire corporate career and judged on the quality of my management. However, if employees didn’t show up for work or were habitually late or refused to do what I asked them to, I could get rid of them.

Try that in the classroom.

Said Ms. Hames, “We strongly believe that the most important thing in a student’s education is the quality of the teacher in the classroom. The heart of education improvement in Georgia has to be focused on the classroom and classroom teachers.”

Maybe Ms. Hames can tell me what happens if a child transfers to a school in the 32nd week of a 36-week school year and didn’t learn squat at his or her old school and flunks. Is the teacher at the new school going to be held accountable for the results?

What about a student who just had a miscarriage and is at school only because a judge ordered her to be there? Or, the child who slept in an abandoned car because he was too embarrassed to tell anyone he couldn’t live at home anymore? Or, the kid who was given a “social promotion” even though he didn’t deserve it? Could Ms. Hames or any member of our esteemed General Assembly motivate these children to learn without losing precious time trying to teach the other students in class? Tell me how classroom quality will be measured when teachers can’t get parents to return their telephone calls or show up for scheduled conferences because they “forgot”? How, Ms. Hames, do we handle these piddling details?

Is there any way we can evaluate society while we are evaluating teachers? One of the finest advocates for public education was John L. Clendenin, retired CEO of the now-no-more BellSouth Corporation, who established a foundation devoted to the subject. Clendenin recognized that public schools are a microcosm of society. Poverty, apathy, drugs, abuse and hunger don’t linger outside the door. They come into the classroom with the student. As Mr. Clendenin used to say, “You can’t teach geometry to a hungry child.”

Call me cynical, but I doubt Barack Obama, George E. Perdue, Nathan Deal, Erin Hames or members of the esteemed Georgia Legislature have taken that into consideration. That just muddies up simple solutions to a complex problem.

House Majority Whip Ed Lindsey (R-Fulton County) took a trip to Colorado recently with Rep. Alisha Thomas Morgan (D-Cobb County) to examine a newly passed bill there on teacher evaluations. No word on whether they first surveyed any classroom teachers around the state and got their input. If so, how many?

I’m not sure Lindsey and Morgan are two of the higher and better sources on the subject of public education. Lindsey is a lawyer in Atlanta who, after he announced the necessity for teacher furloughs in the last session, was seen later that week in the local newspaper sipping wine in his tuxedo at a hoity-toity party in tony Buckhead in one of the classic cases of “Let ’em eat cake.”

Morgan? Her claim to fame is refusing to leave the well of the House after her allotted time ran out during a debate on the Voter ID bill, and her decision to instead begin singing, “Ain’t Nobody Gonna Turn Me Around.” Lady Gaga she is not.

Who better to evaluate the effectiveness of public school teachers than a silk stocking lawyer and a legislator who sings when she can’t make her point otherwise?

Teachers, I wish I had better news for you, but you are facing an education bureaucracy with more layers than a Vidalia onion, more second-guessers than a losing football coach and more shallow thinking than a party at the Playboy Mansion.

Remember that in spite of all of this, you change young lives for the better. That is more than I can say for your critics. Hang in there

The Clothing Wars Begin

      

   The Clothing Wars Begin

     I remember fighting with my sister about clothes from the time she finally hit middle school and I could fit into her clothes and, likewise, she could fit into mine. This was the starting point for epic wars in our household. I am not sure we ever fought about anything, as much as we fought about clothes. If only we had worked out and abided by some sort of treaty, i.e. asking before you wear or you can wear everything except for this section. Then I think our whole family could have been spared the destruction that followed after someone was discovered wearing another someone's favorite shirt. 
       I mean think of the benefits for all, including the money strapped parents, when you had not one wardrobe to choose from but two or further down the road in our house 3 wardrobes (unless this munchkin comes out with something swinging between its legs;)
      Because I was blessed with a sister, and I do consider it a blessing now because there is nothing like the relationship that I have with her, I understand the clothing wars. I just thought we had a little more time before they were declared in our household. I mean really who ever heard of a 3 year old and 6 year old fighting over clothes. You don't even wear the same size people!!!
      So this morning when my youngest brought in a sweater that was accidentally hung in the wrong closet by my dear sweet hubby who does all the laundry I drew from my past experience and sensed a storm brewing. She wanted to know why she didn't have a "boootifull" sweater like that. We told her that she would one day and to please go hang it in her sisters closet. And so the drama ensued...
      She stomped her cute little self down the hallway and was quiet for sometime, which as any good mother knows is not always a good thing. Soon we began to hear some sort of singing coming from the back. At first, it wasn't loud enough or significant enough for us to pay attention to. But as it went on, we realized, with a laugh, that it wasn't singing but chanting. Chanting that was coming from inside the oldest munchkin's closet. Chanting of the same line over and over again. The line that we did not think we would hear for at least another 10 years:
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
                    Aubeee's got more bootiful clothes.
And so the clothing wars begin at the Hill house!

Dirty, Dirty Mind

Dirty, Dirty Mind

Okay, I am the first to admit that my mind can quickly tumble into that dirty, dirty gutter. If you know me, I can hear you saying "Nooooo!" with that sarcastic tone. But have no fear, if someone says something that could remotely be taken with a dirty innuendo I am totally going to get it and probably be snickering in the corner. I can't help it. It is a gift, if you will. I know it is immature. I know it is silly. I know it is juvenile, but I don't care. I would rather have a dirty mind and find the humor in life than be a mean, old, humorless bitty!

So begins story time at our house tonight. The title of the book my 6 year old is reading to the family is "The Owl and The Pussy Cat". As she reads it, I smile slightly and notice that my husband perks up from behind his computer. Then she, and her sweet innocence, asks if we know what a pussy cat is. My husband pipes in, "I sure do!" And I quickly cover with, "A kitty cat." 


And so the story commences. I must admit, I did not listen to most of it. Though every so often I would hear "Pussy-cat" and would see my husband's mouth turn up. (I know! We are horrible!) 


The next thing I know she turns the page and begins reading:

  The Owl looked up to the stars above,

    And sang to a small guitar,

'O lovely Pussy! O Pussy my love,

      What a beautiful Pussy you are,

          You are,

          You are!

What a beautiful Pussy you are!'

Now you know that however offensive you find this particular blog, you are now giggling right along with us. You know you couldn't help it. I mean seriously who writes these things. I know good and well there was offensive language back in the day. Maybe not that particular word but still. I'm just sayin'.

Needless to say, we were unable to contain ourselves and had a great laugh all the whilst trying to cover by acting like we were laughing at how cute she was  singing the song! I know, I know! I have a dirty. dirty mind. But you know what they say, the couple that laughs together, stays together. At least I think they say something like that;)

Pure Stupidity

Pure Stupidity

So our night has been interrupted by the playoffs. I don't know why I am surprised. Our nights, days, and lives, for that matter, have been interrupted by football since July. It is our livelihood after all (I am married to a football coach). However, upon proper reflection, I have decided that there are some things about football, the sport that I love the most, that are purely stupid. 


First of all, it is ridiculous how much professional football players make. I realize they are providing entertainment for millions of people but does that indicate the need to pay them millions upon millions? I agree that there are a lot of overpaid people and professions in this world. People who do a whole lot less than just entertain, but the fact remains that they are being paid to play a game. A GAME!!! I am educating the future of our country and will not make half of what they make in a year in my lifetime. Certainly there is something better that all of this money can go to. Wouldn't it be amazing to see them donate half of their salary to something worthy. I mean Peyton Manning, who is not the highest paid, takes home an average of 14.2 million dollars a year. Certainly, he could live on 7.1 million for one year. Imagine what that money could do for education or the homeless or the hungry or the Freaking Hill Family;)

The major thing that really causes me to question the intelligence of those involved with the sport is the fact that it is presently 13 degrees in Pittsburgh with a wind chill factor of 4 degrees and no one, I repeat NO ONE,  on the whole entire field has on sleeves. Are you kidding me? I get it ! You are a man! You are tough! I also get that you are STUPID! I mean I know that moving around warms up your body, but ain't nobody out there moving around enough to warm up FOUR DEGREES! And I seriously doubt that they have those handy dandy toe and hand warmers on. That would at least keep some;) of their extremities from contracting frost bite and falling off. My husband did inform me that some coaches don't allow their players to wear sleeves. SERIOUSLY?!?!?! Well I hope they are enjoying themselves in their super warm down coat with their thick gloves and lovely long underwear while their overpaid players freeze to death. 


Oh I get it! That is why they are paid so much. They have to make up for all of the fingers and toes they might lose while playing in these types of games. Not to mention, all of the concussions and blown out knees. Either way I think there are parts of football that equal PURE STUPIDITY!

Oh What A Tangled Web We Weave

Oh What a Tangled Web We Weave

Let me start by saying this, "Lying is wrong!" We all know this. We are taught it at a very young age the first time we say, "I didn't do it" when clearly there was no one else who could have or would have colored on the wall. That being said I think we can all agree that there comes a time when one must fib a little. And most of the time I do it with out feeling guilty, but when I had to recently lie to Mary, the sweet, old cashier at Publix, and her elderly gentleman bagger I must admit I felt soooo guilty that I immediately prayed to God for forgiveness. 

So what had happened was (spoke with a ghetto infliction) this:


On Sunday, after attending early church, my family and I went to Publix for our weekly couponing extravaganza (more blogs to follow on couponing). Now just in case you did not know, my husband and I consider ourselves coupon gurus, and whereas we do nothing illegal we do stretch the limits of what may or may not be acceptable couponing etiquette. Do we feel guilty? No. Do you realize how much money they are making? Plus, they get paid back for the manufacture coupons and as far as the competitors coupons, well if they did not accept them we would not be shopping there. Anyways....


When we shop we split up our list and our family, so that we are able to go through two different check out lines and, therefore, use more coupons (some Publix stores have policies about only one competitor coupon or one deal per customer). So we enter Publix and give our children the strictest of instructions that if they see the other part of our family they must completely ignore them and not scream across the store "That's my daaaadddddyyyy", as my 3 year old recently did. 


However, on this occasion I actually ended up at the same cashier line that my husband had just moments ago vacated unbeknown to me. I had a raincheck for some items, and the cashier commented that she just had a man with the same raincheck. I thought to myself, "Hmmmmm". Then she saw my Johnsons and Johnsons coupons (which by the way made the product free) and commented that he guy before me had a lot of these too. I thought to myself, "Oh no!" Then she noticed that I was pregnant and she commented that the guy before me was also expecting another baby, but that he has two girls (I had one of the girls with me) and was expecting a third girl. I though to myself, "Oh S@#*!". 


Then she and her elderly bag boy began discussing that I was actually purchasing many of the same items as he did and had many of the same coupons. I thought to myself, "We are totally busted!" The final straw was when she asked me if I knew what the sex of the baby was. I thought to myself, "Lie, lie, lie!!!" And with a face that I am sure was as red as a tomato I said, "They weren't sure. The baby would not cooperate. I guess we will have to find out next time!" (Insert prayer of forgiveness here!)



Finally, I was finished checking out and was about to escape without being bombarded with Publix employees accusing me of some wrong, which is really not wrong at all according to "current" store policy (current because they would probably change it if we were discovered). She printed out my receipt and made a proclamation of my savings "Spent $84 and saved $73", and then added, "That other guy did the exact opposite. He spent $73 and saved $84. Maybe he's still in the parking lot and you can talk to him about how he did it." I though to myself, "Well, no duh. He better still be in the parking lot or I am walking my fat tail home!" And just as I am readying to leave, I have to wrestle my buggy away from elderly bag boy Bob who wants to help unload the bags for me and my pregnant self. That could have definitely proven awkward when my hubby, also known as that couponing guy who was in front of me, jumped out of the car to also help me! Oh what a tangled web we weave;)

Top 10 Reasons Why I Miss My Husband When He's Gone

Top 10 Reasons Why I Miss My Husband When He's Gone

My hubby and I are rarely away from each other. We just don't go places without the other. He is my best friend and I don't like to be without him. However, there comes a time when we must depart from one another....could be my yearly Bunko trip:)', a coach's clinic, a meeting, a golf tournament, or, like this weekend, a sick parent (I can't believe we are at that point in our lives already). So while he was gone I started thinking about all the ways in which I miss him. Let me count the ways (or count down the ways).


10. Well, who wouldn't miss looking at this face. And the neck down ain't too bad either;) 

Before you think it is just me, I recently sent him to go pick up my oldest from dance (never again) and it was reported to me by several outside sources that you would have thought the Beatles had walked into the dance studio. He was instantly flocked by teeny boppers and as he walked out several sprained necks ensued. 


9. There was no one to go play outside with the girls. Since, I have been pregnant, shockingly, I have become extremely lazy. He is so good about taking them out to play, jumping on the trampoline with them, playing soccer, and in-acting the child laboring.


8. Discipline...did I mention I had become lazy. Not so lazy that I allow my children run rampant causing destruction and disruption to everyone and everything, but my discipline tactics normally take place from the couch, now. 


7. There is no one to look at and laugh when someone says or does something silly or just too cute!


6. I had to get the girls dressed all by myself. I know some of you are saying, "Hey, I do that all the time." Well, so sorry for you. I don't. We are very much like a team (see previous blog.)


5. Damned if I didn't have to bend my big fat belly over that tub to bathe these two munchkins. This feat is becoming more and more difficult and he has started taking over. 


4. The bed time fight it now two against one instead of an even fight. We usually rotate the walking of the little people back to their bedroom, yelling from the couch to go to sleep, getting up and finding items like blankies, doggies, and babies. I ran myself ragged.


3. Laundry- I am sorry for the jealousy that some of you are about to feel, but he does ALL, yes I did say ALL, of the laundry. It was a deal we made when I started back to school for my specialist degree. It is the most wonderful thing ever. Although seeing as school hasn't started back yet this semester, I should probably get up off the couch, stop blogging, and help. 


2. When it comes to weekend mornings, my husband turns from a superhero (reasons described above) to an angel. I have not had to get up with the girls in the morning since I stopped breast feeding my three year old at 8 weeks after birth. He turns on the fan to block noise, shuts the door, and keeps the girls quiet so that I can sleep. Could be that he knows how tired I am and is just being nice, or it could be that he realizes that I am ten times better of a mood when I get to sleep. Oh yeah, I also have a hard time sleeping without him, which makes me even grumpier because I haven't slept and then munchkins wake me up at 6 o'clock in the a.m.


1. I love him. I mean it is as simple as that. I could describe another reason for missing him, but he has forbidden me from discussing this subject any more in my blog (maybe he thinks it makes you all even more jealous;)' But the truth of the matter is that the Top 10 Reasons Why I Miss My Husband When He Is Gone is because, even though there are points in times when I can't stand to be around him;),  I love him and he is my other half and I feel totally lost without him.

I am Drawing the Line

I am Drawing the Line

I told someone today that I wanted to become a freelance writer. And she laughed and said, "What? In all of your free time." And I realized she was right....well, at least partially. I mean I am an extremely busy woman, but what mother isn't. It is not the job or the kids or the husbands (or lack of) that makes us busy or insane. It is all of it rolled into one big some times uncontrollable ball, which drives us control freaks crazy. I mean why else do you think that so many women are on medication now (pregnancy over=Lexipro or Aderall here I come). 


In retrospect, I probably could have a little too much going on. I teach full time. I am currently pursuing my Educational Specialist Degree. I have two young munchkins and am currently serving as a baby making factory for a third. I am our PTO Co-President and also serve as the Special Events Chairperson. I have a Bunko group. I am on the United Way Board. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Not too mention the fact that I live by the philosophy, "If I am going to do this, by God it is going to be the BEST". I will strive to be the best teacher, mother, wife, leader, and parade float maker (even though we were ROBBED this year by receiving first runner up. Sorry my Eastside friends. In case you can't tell, I am still quite bitter.)


My main problem is the ability to say no or for that matter when (especially when it comes to dessert). Temptress-Liz, will you serve as President? Me-Well... Temptress-please you would be awesome. Me-Okay 
Temptress-Please be a part of our adult spelling bee team. Me- I can't spell. Temptress-So it will be fun. Me-Okay. (Seriously? A spelling bee. I couldn't say no to a spelling bee. I SUCK at spelling and obviously I SUCK at saying no).


However, I recently accomplished saying no to someone other than my children, students, and my poor, deprived husband. I was put on a committee at church. One that would regulate the children's activities. One that would require more meetings to fit into my schedule. But finally, I was able to say no. Of course, I did it through e-mail (much easier than face to face or phone. Totally get why people break up through test messages or in Sarah Jessica Parker's case, a post-it) and I had several reasons: 1. I wasn't even asked. 2. I don't have time. 3. I am not even a member of that church. But the point is, I said no. I do feel slightly guilty, but it was time I drew the line. 


Now, let's just hope this line does not get erased by that temptress who understands my need to be in control of things. But I mean it. I am drawing the line. I am saying no.....well....ummm....maybe.