the project that did not actually have to be a project.

last night was a busy one.

i knew we had a mouse trap car to build for science.

i knew we had no instruction, just tips to get the this point:mouse trap, wheels, string, ruler, paper, pencil, eye hooks and person who knows how to put it all together not included.

we watched A LOT of you tube videos of other people putting one together.

keats had to finish a science study guide, type a digestive paper and make it to a mock disasterhis injury?

zit explosion.

on top of all that, his power point presentation did not work in history so we had to figure out what was going on with that.

then the bomb by the name of rube goldberg came.

who is rube goldberg you ask? let us consult wikipedia:

Reuben Lucius Goldberg (July 4, 1883 – December 7, 1970) was an American cartoonist, sculptor, author, engineer, and inventor. Goldberg is best known for a series of popular cartoons he created depicting complex devices that perform simple tasks in indirect, convoluted ways – now known as Rube Goldberg machines.

“when is this due keats?” i asked trying to stay calm

“um, tomorrow. we have to make a video of it to show him we did it.”

“keats, what are we supposed to make,  i have never seen one before.”

“i don’t know, he just said to make one!!” he used his teen-ager voice.

back to you tube and this is the ‘easy one’ we found: right now you tube says it does not work.

i wanted to cry.

keats was having shortness of breath and ‘homework freak out.’

sir went to the hardware store to buy some wares and maybe  purchase someone who did know how to build a mouse trap car.

he saw two other parents there looking for supplies.

keats and i stayed home trying to figure out complex steps to perform one simple step.

“how about you just say my complex steps are telling my sister to do it, then she tells my other sister to do it, then she tells my brother to do it, who tells my other sister to do the simple task” i suggested.

it was so complex he did not get it.

we finally figured out a ball rolling down a ramp hitting a polly pocket car (polly pocket included) which then hit a board guarded by ninja turtles which then hit a board guarded by to gigantic barbie heads (or sphinxes as keats called them) knocking over a ball that lit up when it hit the ground.just in case you did not know what a giant barbie head looked like.

by 10:30 last night all homework was done, videoed, typed, and power pointed to completion.

“so, how did your mouse trap go.”

“um, good. yeah.”

“how did your video go.”

“really good, i got some laughs with my jokes and my face went numb, more like tingly i was so nervous up there”

“oh, mr kendrick really liked the video huh?”

“mr kendrick? no mr. shields, i am talking about my power point presentation.”

“oh, what did mr. kendrick think of you rube goldberg invention.”

“oh, that is not due until May 18th it turns out.”

people, my mouth, once again, dropped open.

“i was wrong when i said i thought it was due today.” he explained.

this is the thing with keats once again.

he has no concept of time.

none.

zero.

zip.

“well, i guess we have lots of time to make a much more complex design to video don’t we.”

“oh yeah, plenty of time.” said the boy who time means nothing to.

the next writer in our family

this is bird’s school journal she brought home today.

this is the first story i read out of her journal:this is about the time when she was a baby and she fell onto the road from her stroller and i had to take her to the doctor’s office.

i think it goes really nice with chicka’s journal entry about the time CPS pulled her from class to interview her thanks to some lovely phone calls by my ex in-laws.

“bird, i think you might need to write i little bigger.” i told her while holding her journal right in front of my face.

“why?” she asked.

i don’t know, you be the judge.

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when short hair is not a good thing

“it looks like you were struck with lightning.” chicka told me. “but you are still beautiful.”

“chicka, tell me one person you have seen struck by lightning that is still beautiful.”

she could not come up with any.

i like that the kids make it easy for me to never have a favorite.  they always say things that send right back to the bottom of the list.

“maybe it is a third eye.” keats said.

the same keats, we decided, would make a good flamingo because his legs are the same length and width.

“no,” i assured them, “it is my brain. it is so big it is trying to escape through my forehead.”

and what was the topic of conversation that they can’t keep their eyes off of?

the gigantic zit in the middle of my forehead.

this is when i would sell my 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th born for some bangs.

we may have a problem america.

i once read that a child will recognize the golden arches before his first word.

scoff says i.

until last night.

this is what i found in the queen’s kingdom

i.e. her bedroom

not only did she have nothing but product placement in her room,

she decided to sleep with this:

so, do we have a problem with commercialization of our young or is it just that the storage closet is right across from queen’s room?

i am voting for the right across from queen’s room.

she has a never-ending supply of water bottles and the other things we find in her room are just bonus finds.

the next blues brothers

every time i look at this picture and the way bear is holding his hands i say the words “despicable me” in me head.

unfair rules of engagement

in this post i will only use the word spouse and other spouse to protect the identity of those who need protection from identity being discovered.

“mind if i come in?” the spouse asked.

“it will be stinky.” the other spouse warned.

“no problem.” said the spouse while producing a box of matches that were immediately lit.

“i have something i need to ask you.” said the spouse holding a lit match.

“well, i can’t exactly go anywhere can i?” pointed out the other spouse.

“is there something i do that drives you nuts. something that i say i will change but don’t?” the spouse asked.

“like asking me questions while i am on the pooper?” the other spouse said.

“no, i am trying to ask a serious question!” the spouse said.

“the pooper is not helping.” the other spouse pointed out.

“when do i annoy you?” the spouse asked.

“right now asking me this question.” the other spouse said.

we came to the conclusion that there is not much that the spouse does to the other spouse that is annoying.  we have times of annoyance with each other but on the whole we are annoyance free.

except when held hostage,

on the pooper,

in the bathroom,

with multiple lit matches.

that whole only argue when naked probably did not extend to when only one spouse has pants down around ankles.

a necessary accessory

bear likes to laugh at a particular movie.

he likes to laugh

A LOT.

to avoid any more vomit in hands, on floor, down shirt, or swallowed,

he must have this when watching Son of the Mask

here is a little clip of what makes bear laugh so much, in fact he just came down right next to me and saw it and is now laughing very hard.

when alcohol is not an option

“keats, what type of slurpee flavor did you get?” i asked him as we were visiting before bed. the hubby was there too on the church pew.

“what? i had a flurry not a slurpee.” keats told me.

“really? who’s slurpee cup is that in the gar……” i was going to finish garbage when my little light bulb went off.

it is little.

and it is not energy-efficient either.

i like to leave a foot print on the environment.

“did you really get a slurpee at 11 last night?” i was actually shocked

i should not have been.

“yes, pina colada. mmmmmmmmm.” very homer simpson-ish mmmmmmmm.

he had told me he had to go ‘put money in the bank.’

i did not realize that ‘money’ meant ‘slurpee’ and ‘bank’ meant ‘stomach’.

he came home and sat down at the table with a brain freeze and a soduku.

life was good for the hubby that night.

i am happy the hubby has found his own little version of frosty forget- about it- goodness.

who needs beer?

can you guess?

can you guess what time of the month it is?

i must vow never again to go to the store in this weakened state,

or next time at least remember the chips and dip.

a new frontier

my foot has been hurt for 2 months now.

i tried running after taking a month off and found it was not a good idea.

the foot doctor is still 10 days away.

enter yoga meltdown.

in other words,

hell,

with stretching.

here are some of the moves i have been attempting.

i would say doing but i don’t like to lie to the general public.

if you were just my family,

i would lie my head off.

move one:

the chataranga

turns out you are supposed to hold this position.

i hold it fine with a bed under me.

the camel.

not only does it not look like a camel,

it pulls stomach muscles i NEVER knew existed.

the side plank.

turns out you are supposed to hold this one too.

really? did the monks have nothing else to do but plan odd yoga moves?

come to think of it,

no they did not.

the warrior, position 3.

and hold it.

the only way i hold this position is if there is a milk chocolate cadbury egg in it for me and i am reaching for it.

core yoga.

and yes,

hold again.

the only time a woman should be holding this position is if a baby is getting ready to pop out

and i ain’t pregnant.