decades long research has been completely

and the finding of the research is simply this:

when i am having PMS it is everyone else that loses their sense of humor and lack of reasoning.

not me.

my kids ask far more questions.

needless,

annoying questions,

during this time for some unknown reason.

again, their fault.

the very existence of my hubby tends to annoy me on certain days.

must be totally his fault.

it is not the sudden influx,

and by influx,

i am talking tsunami,

of sweets that my body craves,

being shoved in my mouth,

sometimes at 1 am,

it is the bloating the makes my gut grow during this time.

again,

the manufacturer of sweets are at fault here,

not me.

so you see, after decades of research the finding is simple:

it is not my fault.

dear readers of the male persuasion,

you have PMS too.

i bear testimony that this is a true and honest statement.

sincerely,

me.

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a strep test

back in early august when were at the home ranch with all the other genetically related individuals in my life,

my kids got a sore throat.

now some reading this right now my assume it was MY kids that started this little sickly trend,

but may i remind what assuming does?

makes an…..

well you know what i mean.

anyhoo,

i took two of the kids to the dr.’s today because they said their throats were hurting again.

maybe it is something.

while in the the office chicka and keats were weighted (keat’s has finally broke into the 100’s) and checked to see how hot they are.

they answered the nurse’s questions and we were well on our way to a diagnosis.

“i am going to go get the strep tests to swap the throats and get it started” said the very helpful male nurse.

and out the door he went.

“okay guys, you do know that with a strep test you cannot talk for 10 minutes after he takes it right?” i asked.

“what!?”

“are you serious?!”

“this is the worst test ever!?” (two guesses who said that line)

“i know, i hated getting my throat tested for strep because i could not talk either, don’t worry i will set the timer on my watch to make sure you don’t have to go any longer than 10 minutes.”

i like to be helpful to my young ones.

the male nurse came back, swaped the throats and dutifully my children stopped talking.

until the dr. came in.

“so how long have you been feeling unwell?” he asked keats.

keats, stared at me without speaking, so the doctor turned toward me and asked the same question.

“oh, a few days”

like i said, i like to be helpful to my young ones and felt i should answer for them.

“how about you?” the doctor turned towards chicka.

she also just stared at me.

so the doctor asked me the same question.

“about the same” i helpfully answered.

by this time, the doctor thought something odd was going on so he asked keats another question.

keats again stared at me, no talking by either of them.

i gave in…

“okay, i MAY have been joking you about not talking for 10 minutes after the test.” i confessed.

shock, horror, and disbelief crossed both their faces.

“you are evil!!” keats exclaimed.

“what?” the doctor ask

“my mom said we could not talk for 10 minutes after the test!!!” chicka tattled

“i take it you talk a lot?” the doctor asked.

ah, i love a good visit to the doctor’s office.

we may have found something

“bear has been playing slug tag.”

this wast he first thing the teacher said to me when i picked up bear from school today.

“really?”

i was laughing.

maybe not a good response from a parent, well a responsible parent.

“i am so glad you took it that way, we did not stop it.”

turns out bear and the little warrior boy may have found a friendship made in violent-proned-autistic-boys heaven.

both are the same height, build, and disposition.

they spent the recess like this:

bear runs up and socks the warrior boy then runs.

warrior boy pretends to not notice and keeps in his world.

bear, once safely in his world is suddenly socked by warrior boy who was only pretending to be in his world.

warrior boy runs off after delivering stunning sock to the arm.

bear, thinking warrior boy will not notice,

runs up and socks warrior boy in the arm and runs off.

this continues.

they never got mad at each other.

not once.

it seemed like a game they both enjoyed.

how do i know this?

i asked bear as we walked to the library today the following question:

“so bear, did you have fun playing slug tag with (insert boy’s name here)?”

bear, with a sly grin looks at me out of the corner of his eye and says:

“warrior boy” (i can’t use real boy’s name)

oh yeah, bear was diggin’ on the slug tag.

i told the teacher when i left that i have no problem with slug tag,

i believe it is the start of a beautiful friendship.

that and they separated the two boy’s desks as far as they could from each other.

to my few tacos shy friend:

may tomorrow be like running thru a field of sunflowers of a beautiful breezy day and blue sky without the need of a doughnut to sit on.

love,

me.

a moment of enlightenment

so today,

as i was deep in thought about my current situation,

i became enlightened.

sending the last child to school is not what mothers cry about,

it is their identity that goes with the last child to school.

it is lost.you see,

i am 5 weeks shy of 14 years of always having a child at home.

when people asked what i did,

i had an answer always ready.

“i am a stay at home mom.”

most people are wise enough to not say

“oh, is that all?”

well, today, my answer left me.

now, when people ask what i do,

i give them a blank starei am at a crisis point.

the hubby and i were talking just last night that the women have to give up their identity.

i am no longer regina reneer.

i liked regina reneer.

i did some very stupid things as regina reneer.

stupid looked good on me.

i became the ex’s wife,

then the kid’s mom,

then the ex-wife,

then mark’s wife,

the some more kid’s mom.

now, i have to find a new identity.

preferably one that makes money.

i know that i don’t have the attention span for more than two years of school.

what can i get in two years,

besides a degree from the massage institute of utah?

i could go for the tech degree to wear scrubs and safety glasses and just basically look smartor,

i would love to work outside all summerand kick drunk, angry campers out of their campsite with my forest green outfit and shoes.

i know this about me,

i don’t like to sit for too long.

an office job and me would not get along.

maybe angry postal worker.

whatever it is had better come quickly.

my identity crisis is growing by the minute and there are only so many hair colors left to try.

a felony occurred in our house today

and it involved two of my children’s underwear.

let it be done

on the 4,606th day God said:

“regina, thou shalt send your last child to school.”

and regina replied:

“yeah, sure, okay.”

tomorrow the bird goes to school.

the last child to enter the hallowed halls of public education.

am i sad?

no.

am i melancholy?

no.

i am only doing what God commanded.

another change

i love the pink, but it was too high maintenance,

and i hate high maintenance things.

which brings me right back to the point i always argue with myself,

how in the world did i end up liking being a mom so much?

the color is onyx.

whenever i hear onyx i cannot help but think of pokemon.

there is a pokemon onyx that is a rock pokemon

and belong to team rocket.

which consists of jesse and james.

(clever little japanese.)

you have now been schooled in pokemon.

i don’t know how long it will last,

but i do like it.

next big change

I NEED A JOB!!!

anyone willing to hire one tired, frazzled, used mother?

my following skills:

1. behvioral counselor

2. events coordinator.

3. budget follower (to a degree)

4. psychiatrist.

5. mediator.

6. community events coordinator

7. i would write planner of menus and meals but let’s face it, that would be a lie.

8. poop handler

9. pee handler

10. made restraining skills.

11. worked in medical lab

12. almost medical transcriptionist.

13. CNA liscense holder at one time.

14. just an all around swell chick.

since my dreams of being a world famous blogger have died, i now must face reality.

the plasma center.

we knew it was just a matter of time

today, bear’s notebook home stated the following:

“he was agitated and aggressive,

hit the little boy/little boy hit back

this repeated 5 times”

now, we knew this might happen.

bear and this particular little boy have a history.

i will liken it to this:

AND

yep Israel and Palestine.

you see, a few years back this little boy was dropped off at our house at 0400 so his mom could work.

i spent the morning keeping them apart,

and the car ride to school breaking up fist fights.

there is some bad blood.

it is no wonder his school is called westside,

bear is the jet and the little boy is the shark.

there will be blood shed by the end of the year.

personally, i am surprised it took them 4 days to make physical contact.

how do we make this better you ask?

i don’t think we can.

even this:something like the gaza strip,

or even if we sent him in

and especially if we sent her in

will not broker peace.

bear and this little dude are the middle east of westside elementary.

they have some bad vibes.

i believe in a different life they fought too.

nope,

we can only wish for this

but as my wise father says,

“you can wish in one hand and poo in the other and see which fills up first.”