Auntie's Hideaway

I'm busy, busy, busy, trying to finish working on a piece, but I just wanted y'all to see how much the Impertinent Daughter's artwork has improved.



She's come to the attention of the art teacher at her junior high, who has encouraged her to participate in this year's art UIL. And that, in turn, has encouraged her to sign up to take art in high school. Of course, you know I'm incredibly proud!

You ever have one of those moments when you're wholly absorbed in something, and then something happens that reminds you of why you have come to this particular place in your life?

We were at the library. The Husbandly One and the Impossible Son had gone off into the children's section to look for books, and the Impertinent Daughter and I had gone to look for manga. The manga and graphic novel section is right across from the yarn crafts section, so when I didn't find what I wanted in manga, I walked over to look at books on knitting, since I'm trying to learn. And I found what looked like a fascinating book, No Idle Hands: The Social History of American Knitting by Anne L. Macdonald (no, that's not a typo, that's the way it's spelled on the cover of the book), so I slipped it off the shelf, opened it, and started reading. You'd think a book about knitting, especially the history of knitting, would be boring, but I was wholly and completely absorbed within seconds. How could I not be, reading about how Boy Scout troops during World War I spent hours knitting squares to be sewn together to make blankets for soldiers heading to France? Or when the township of Andover, Massachusetts, decreed in 1642: </i>"The court doe hereupon order and decree that in every towne then chosen men are to take care of such as are sent to keep cattle that they are sett to some other employment withall as spinning upon the rock, knitting & weaving tape &c that boyes and girls will be not suffered to converse together..."</i>

Oh, I was lost! I was standing there, head bent, book open, completely and totally absorbed and then, I don't know how to describe it adequately. There I was, one moment lost in the book, the next, suddenly aware of a presence, breath against the back of my neck, and then lips on my skin. I gasped and turned... to see bright blue eyes looking into mine, and the Husbandly One smiling at me with mischief.

Normally, any one sneaking up behind me and taking the liberty of kissing me on the neck like that would end up with a bloody nose, because Auntie is a little tightly wired, if you know what I mean! But... somehow, even though I never heard him coming up, even though I wasn't even aware of him until half a second before he did it... I just knew. Somehow, I just knew. And that was just... mind-blowing. After nearly 19 years, you'd think I'd be used to this kind of thing, to just having this... awareness of my husband... but it's constantly a surprise, and it makes me ridiculously happy. Totally ridiculously happy.

*contented sigh*

Miss Priss had a soccer game both on Saturday and on Sunday. And her team lost both of them. *sigh* After yesterday's game, we had a party for the kids, they got their trophies, and had a "Parents VS Kids" game afterwards, which was a HUGE amount of fun. And yes, the Husbandly One played, and so did I! And even more important, I did NOT end up, splayed on the ground, doing a face-plant. Y'all should be immensely proud of me! It was exhausting, and I coughed my lungs up last night, but it was entirely worth seeing the look of delight on the Impertinent One's face when she spotted me playing defense across the field from her. Totally!

Mom, in cleats, running down a forward and keeping him from scoring. Mom, blocking the ball and passing it to midfield. Mom, not dying and not falling. Mom is awesome!

I've won enough awesome points to last me through Christmas!!

Every once in a while, I run a Google search on my username, and on my real name, the Husbandly One's real name, the kids' names, etc, just to see what comes up, and to keep track of things.

Today, on a whim, I ran a Google on "Impertinent Daughter," just to see what comes up. And I ran across an entry from an LJ user who is a fellow member of eat_my_bento, and back in March commented about an entry I had made on the comm. You know... I don't know exactly how to...

*pauses*

I love my children very, very much. They sometimes exasperate me, drive me to the edge of my reason, and make me want to either tear my hair out, or find a quiet corner and weep. But they also fill me with joy, make me unbelievably proud, remind me why I'm glad to be a parent, and make my life complete in ways I'm still discovering.

And I hope very much that this comes across in my journal.

When I read this particular entry, I was horrified to discover that this person has deducted, from the fact that I call my daughter the Impertinent Daughter, and Miss Priss, that I don't like my daughter, and said if her mother had called her that, she'd "be walking around with a massive inferiority complex." She also took exception to my calling my son Impossible, and based on an entry I'd made about him having stomach flu, felt I considered him an inconvenience.

Dear gods, y'all... do I really sound like that???

And yes, I do know what "impertinent" means. "Not showing proper respect; rude; exceeding the bounds of propriety." And I do know the alternative meaning, "not pertinent to a particular matter; irrelevant." I am using impertinent in the "not showing proper respect" meaning. Why? Because when my daughter was three, a man who was a complete stranger to her, to myself, and to her father, wanted her to kiss him on the cheek. He was an elderly man, said she reminded him of his granddaughter, and wanted to her to kiss him because she was "such a little darling."

She drew away from him and wrapped herself around my legs, and I knelt down and picked her up, backing away from this perfectly nice man because I didn't like him, either. He said, "Aw, don't you want to give me a little kiss?"

She said, "No. I don't know you, and I don't like you. Go away!"

Of course, he was terribly offended and said, "What an impertinent daughter you have!"

And I said, "Yes, yes, I do, and I'm very proud of her! And you should be ashamed of yourself for trying to force a little girl to kiss a complete stranger!!"

Nope, I have never forced either of my kids to kiss or hug anyone, whether it's a relative, a friend, or a complete stranger. Never wanted to take away their power to say, "NO!" in that sort of situation at all.

But at that time, I was proud to think my child was impertinent. And she has been impertinent... in some very pertinent ways. When a boy tells her he likes her, and she does not like him, she's told him so, and when he persisted, went so far as to threaten to rip his arm off and beat him over the head with it. Yes, very Impertinent, and I'm glad of it. So you could say my calling her the "Impertinent Daughter" is my way of celebrating her inner strength, determination, and personal empowerment. Self-esteem issues? Not at all.

This is not to say she isn't polite, because she is. But, she will very much stand up for herself, and I'm glad.

And as for the Impossible Son, well... he is, sometimes. My son is generous to a fault, affectionate, bright, easy-going... and incredibly stubborn. It is a trait he shares with his mother, meaning me. And there are times when I have to walk out of the room, grab a pillow, and scream into it, then scrounge around deep inside myself for another scrap of patience so I can go back and try to explain/deal with/help my son without losing my mind. I am trying like heck to follow my mother's example, and channel his stubbornness into something positive, rather than something intractible and counterproductive.

And, gods help me, sometimes, I need more patience than one small woman can possibly possess.

But sometimes, he's the Impossible Son, because he manages to do things that should be impossible for him. He's so tiny (people sometimes think he's in first grade) but can lift things that should be far too heavy for him. He can climb things that give us all horrors, finding finger and toe-holds that just... aren't there. I could go on and on, but... y'all already know the stories.

Besides which, in real life, I don't actually call my kids, "Impertinent Daughter" and "Impossible Son." I call them by their names. I call them "Honey," and "Love," and "Bubba," and "Button," and "Honey-Girl," and "Sugar-Bee," and "Peanut," and "Punkin," and all the endearments a Texas and Southern heritage has emplanted in my brain. When I do say to my son, "You, sir, are impossible!" with a hint of exasperation in my voice, I ruffle his hair, and he beams up at me and says, "Yeah, I know, but I come by it honest, right?" and I say, "Right!" Because he knows he has a long line of stubborn and impossible coming from both sides of his family.

And my daughter comes from a long line of strong, "impertinent" women.

That's what was in my mind when I chose those names for my kids to use in this journal. I don't use their real life names in this journal, and there are only a very, very few of you who know those names, for a reason. I protect my children. And that is that.

I love my children very, very much. They are not an inconvenience to me, and I have never let them think so. Neither has my husband. Both of us have had our full share of crap in our childhoods that we made a conscious decision to NOT pass on. I shouldn't let what someone who doesn't know me said bother me so much, but the thought that I have implied, in some way, shape, or form, that I don't like my kids, or ignore them, or find them "inconvenient" somewhere or somehow in this journal makes me... well... furious. And horrified.

I get exasperated with them, but then, I'm human, and I don't know a woman on this planet who doesn't get exasperated with her kids at least two or three times a day. Anyone who doesn't isn't normal.

I'm starting to lose the focus of what I was saying, but jays, this really, really got under my skin.

I think I'll go rip up some weeds, or bake some bread so I can pound the dough and vent my spleen!!!!

Oh, boy, was yesterday a long day!!
( Lots of photos to follow, for soccer and Halloween, so clicky to see, and beware, oh users of Dial-Up! )

First off, a big Thank You to elfwreck and eeyore9990 who helped the Impertinent Daughter with her algebra homework a couple of nights ago!



In case you're wondering, the AZ stands for "Angry Zangoose", which is her moniker on her DeviantArt account. She got an 88 on the test those questions were on, and said ruefully, "I would have gotten a higher grade, except on that one problem, I had memorized the formula and had the number 27 in my head, so when I worked the problem on the test, I write 27, instead of 47, which was on the test!"

But the important thing is, she understands it now!, so... no worries!

In other news, the Impossible Son is experiencing tummy trouble again, though it seems to be more serious now.

*sigh*

No bullying this time, but he is having anxiety about the TAKS "diagnostics" that they're taking this week. Yes, they take diagnostics to find out where the kids are weakest and see what they need to work on to improve their scores when the real test comes in April.

*sigh*

He went to the school nurse twice on Monday, had to come home on Tuesday and go to the doctor, who palpated his abdomen and said, "Well, he's not constipated, and he's not reacting when I push down and lift on his right side..."

So, we were sent for bloodwork, and his white cell levels are normal.

He stayed home yesterday, and was fine. Till afternoon, when he started complaining about his stomach again, and then by last night...

*sigh*

He didn't eat breakfast this morning, either. So, I proved to him again that he can handle addition and subtraction... and he decided to go to school.

Haven't gotten a phone call yet, so... I'm hoping for the best.

Thing is, it's not general stomach pain. This is very specific. It hurts... behind his belly button. Appendicitis and gall bladder problems run in my family. And on my dad's side, it's stealth appendicitis. My dad complained of vague stomach pain, and didn't want to eat. He never ran a fever or had any nausea, went to the doctor, had blood tests run and all that. Nothing. So, one day, he decides, "Enough lolly-gagging, the house needs painting, and it won't done any faster if I don't start." So, he hauls out the ladder and starts painting. Mom's in the house, and this was before we had air conditioning, so all the windows are open. She hears a groan, then the ladder hits the side of the house, and there's a loud thump. She rushes outside, and Dad has passed out and fallen off the ladder. He never faints, so she knows something's drastically wrong and calls the neighbors to help her get him up and get him to the hospital. The E.R. docs take one look at him and say, "Appendicitis," and get him into surgery just before it bursts. Then there was his dad, who was sitting at the table one morning, drinking his coffee and reading the paper one moment, then rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony the next. His grandmother, who calmly finished cooking dinner, laying out the table, and making sure everyone was served before saying, "I'm going to see the doctor now," and promptly hitting the floor. Yep, appendicitis.

Is it any wonder I'm worried and waiting for the phone to ring?

What keeps me from freaking out is... he's eating. He's pooping. He's not running a fever. He doesn't complain when you press on his stomach with your hand. He's not rolling on the floor, grabbing his stomach and howling in agony.

What keeps me concerned is... he's complaining consistently that it hurts behind the belly-button (which rules out gall bladder in my mind), he does not like anything pressing against his waist or tummy (like jeans, underwear, passing butterflies), and he's content to curl up on the couch and watch TV or play games on the Wii.

My son likes to watch TV like any other kid, but give him a choice between TV and playing outside, and outside will win every single time. Having him curled up on the couch and not begging to go play outside is... unnatural.

Needless to say, the Husbandly One, the Impertinent Daughter, and I are all watching him like so many hawks. And I can't help but think, today is Thursday... you just know if anything is going to happen... it'll happen this weekend.

*sigh* I've already told the doctor I want a recommendation for a pediatric gastrologist, because I know Mr. Manzie has major acid-reflux as it is. Thanks, Dad, but you know, the tummy problem genes were in that group I wish you'd kept to yourself!

*grumbles*

All right, F-Listies, I am depending on you!!

The Impertinent Daughter has algebra homework that has completely stumped me. I have gone through my notes, gone through the book we got to help her, and even done a search on Google, but...

Okay, one, this problem makes NO sense to me whatsoever. And I can't refer to a text book because... there is no text book for this class. Why? Because the algebra teachers at the junior high decided this year that the text the district selected did not, and I quote, "adequately teach the algebra concepts that would be covered by the TAKS."

Okay, the last time I heard that, the Husbandly One and I decided to take over teaching Miss Priss math, and she was one of the few third grade students at her school who passed the Math TAKS.

Anyhow, because of that, the junior high's algebra teachers decided to write their own text book, so to speak, and they're writing it as they go along. Don't even ask me how I feel about this, because you probably know already.

Here is the problem:


The length of a rectangle is three more than twice its width. The perimeter of the rectangle is 27 inches. What are the dimensions of the rectangle?


She is expected to give the equation, and the dimensions (length and width).

Oh, and since she's supposed to take notes, and the teacher moves through this with blistering speed (being one of those people who knows her subject so well, she is lousy at teaching it), and explains things by teaching them shortcuts instead of showing them how to actually do the work... well, you see how we got here.

Oh, and just for shits and giggles (can you tell I am supremely annoyed?), there's another problem that is giving us both fits.


Tanya wrote four consecutive integers on the board. The sum of the fourth and five times the first was 957. What were the four integers that Tanya wrote?


Again, she's expected to give the equation, and the four integers.


She took notes on this type of problem today. Only... the formula she was given... won't work on this problem.

*bangs head into desk*

Please, if someone can tell us just how to work these damn problems (if they are, indeed, workable), we can come up with the answers ourselves, but... *flails*

Oh, and the teacher's solution when Miss Priss can't understand her explanations is to send her to the library until she can work the problem.

Perhaps she's hoping Miss Priss will find a real algebra teacher in there?

Help us, please!!

Okay, so... I talked to the 8th grade principal, who happened to be the person who took the Impertinent Daughter's bag. And I must thank elfwreck for her invaluable advice and suggestions!

Anyhow, I organized my thoughts and called for an appointment... only to have the school secretary take my number because Ms. Principal was in a conference with another parent and would call me back as soon as possible. Ms. Principal did call back, probably hoping to catch me off guard, and wanted to handle things over the phone. Fine. I had everything I wanted right in front of me, no problem.

The basic gist of the conversation was ...

(1) When the junior high was completed a little over ten years ago, a decision was made to not have lockers, and not allow backpacks, bags, etc. as a safety issue.

(2) Any bag large enough for a zippered binder to fit into was too big.

(3) The junior high had 1000 + students, and it was hard to keep track of them all and they are clever about hiding/concealing things they don't want the teachers/administrators to see.

(4) The one thing they had discovered over the years was that students were continually hiding things in their bags, things that weren't allowed at school, and it was causing problems. It's been a much safer, calmer school since they banned backpacks and book bags.

On that last one, I said, "What kinds of things were they hiding??"

She said, and yes, I am totally serious, she actually said this, "Things that aren't allowed by the Code of Conduct." You could actually hear the capital letters in that phrase.

*mental eye-roll*

"Can you be more specific than that?" I asked patiently.

"Well, electronics, cell phones..."

"Since cell phones are allowed by the Code of Conduct with permission note from parents, I don't see that as a problem. And I'm not sure I understand the danger of iPods and DS games, though I admit they are distractions." I considered, then said, "If you're talking about drugs or weapons, I should think you would keep parents informed and involved, since they are probably your best bet in preventing either from showing up at your school." Didn't want to mention the fact that if there were drugs in the school (and there are), it's likely that a teacher or other member of staff is part of the supply-line. During my time at high school, even the un-cool, straight edge kids knew which teacher or janitor to go to for something to either ease the pain or keep you happy for the weekend.

She said hastily, "We just find it's better overall if there aren't bags or backpacks in the school. Since the students aren't allowed to take text books home, and all they're carrying is their zippered binder and their lunch, it's not like they're loaded down."

I pointed out that some kids carry considerably more than just a binder and their lunch. Some carry a binder, a lunch, gym clothes, instruments for band, special supplies for other classes that can't be kept in the classroom. And that since there is no textbook for my daughter's Algebra 1 class (and that is an entirely different rant I won't get into now), that binder is now crammed with notes and handouts from THAT class, as well as work from her other classes. "I'm not asking for an exception for my kid," I said, trying very hard not to sound angry. "I'm asking for a review of your policy, because y'all are being very inconsistent in enforcement of that policy."

Oh, it's not a policy. It's a procedure. And they're doing it because they've always done it, since the school was built ten years ago. She kept harping about that, ten years ago, we did this because it was decided ten years ago... over and over. This puzzled me greatly.

She told me that there was going to be an administrative meeting the next morning, and they would review the policy procedure at that time. The woman also seemed to have uniforms on the brain, too, because she said, "And the issue of school uniforms is not something the district can decide on its own. It has to have the input of the parents as well. I'm so glad you reminded me of this, Auntie! I'll put it on the agenda for the meeting tomorrow morning!"

I said, "Ms. Principal, I didn't say one word about uniforms. I'm talking to you about book bags, purses, and the no backpack policy..."

"Procedure," she said.

"Policy," I continued. "Do not count me as one of your supporters where uniforms are concerned."

She promised to call me after the meeting to tell me the results (like I couldn't predict the outcome of THAT meeting) and I said, "Thank you, please do call me, because if you don't, I will be calling you."

"Oh! Certainly!"

After I got off the phone, I kept hearing that "ten years ago," over and over, and having a little suspicion in my brain, went to do a bit of research. And BINGO! I was right.

Columbine happened ten years ago.

*shakes head*

I guess it makes no difference to her that the two boys involved did not "hide things in their backpacks," and sneak them into the school. Or that this happened in a high school, not a junior high. Or that there were concerns expressed about the two students involved, that they had been in therapy, had been investigated... and that law enforcement had failed to follow through in their original investigation.

This also explains the almost rabid fear of Goths in our district.

I also had forgotten that Ms. Principal had originally been the head principal at the junior high, and is responsible for the dress code that has been driving us all nuts. And she got fired for it... twice. And now she's back as the 8th grade principal.

So, I wasn't surprised at all when she called me yesterday to tell me that the administration had reviewed the situation and decided to keep the no backpacks/no book bags policy in place. And that they had sent an email to all the teachers at the junior high to remind them of this procedure and that it was part of their job to confiscate bags as they see them.

She also told me the teachers were quite happy about this.

My feeling is, if the teachers were quite happy about it, there wouldn't be so many kids openly walking around with beach bags/totebags/messenger bags.

So, I will be following up on this, either with a letter or an email to the principal, and a letter to our school board representative. This becomes a little more imperative since the Impertinent Daughter is now taking part in the UIL art competition (though she isn't taking art at the school) and is having to bring her sketchbook and art supplies to school.

I'm getting tired of this, and I am very glad that this is Miss Priss' last year at this school. Now, if I can just get her through the debacle that is her algebra class!

The Impertinent Daughter's bag was confiscated today.

*glowers*

See, the Husbandly One got us both Dumbledore's Army messenger bags. Mine was a birthday present, and hers was to keep her from absconding with mine. Because... she wanted one, too!

I am using mine as sort of a purse, because, well, Auntie is a mom, so... I carry Mom-type things in it (tissues, a small sewing kit, a few bandages in a small bag, Germex, etc), and I like to sketch sometimes, so... a small sketchbook and a bag of pencils, etc, and then there's my wallet, a small hairbrush, my DS Lite for those times when I'm waiting and unable to sketch or read... you get the picture, right?

The Impertinent One was using hers for pretty much the same purpose. She carried her wallet, her emergency moon cycle stuff, pencils, pens, phone ( I think in today's world, when a kid starts junior high, they need a basic, no frills cell phone), and had room for her gym clothes and her zippered binder. It's smaller than the bags most of the girls at her school carry as "purses," so we thought it would pass muster.

Besides, the dress code only bans backpacks. Not any other type bag. Just backpacks.

She's used this bag for two weeks with no problem. Then today, the 8th grade principal stopped her, thinking she was a new student (!!) and confiscated the bag. When Miss Priss said, "Ms. Principal, it's me, the Impertinent Daughter," Ms Principal frowned, then said, "Oh, my, you've had a hair cut!"

O_o???

Her hair was cut two weeks before school began.

Nonetheless, Ms. Principal took her bag, making her take everything out of it and saying it would be too easy for someone to steal her stuff.

Um... what??? What the hell does THAT mean?? If the bag is on Impertinent's shoulder, and it is closed with straps and buckles... then... how does that make it easy for someone to get into to steal her stuff??

Not only that, but it seems there were six other girls nearby, all with bags bigger than Miss Priss' bag, but... they weren't being confiscated.

Now, I have been in and out of that school. And I see girls on a frequent basis with bags that are about the size of your average beach bag. Big enough to literally hide behind, right? And no one has ever taken them away. Needless to say, I will be making an appointment to see Ms. Principal tomorrow to talk about this issue with the bags. Because, like so many other things at that school, they are not being consistent. Okay, you don't want the girls to carry large bags? Then you better start lining them up in the gym every damn morning for bag inspection, and if some of them are carrying bags that are too big, they better go, no matter WHO their daddy is and how much he donates to the football team!

Can you tell I'm getting all riled up? I wouldn't be so cranky about this if it was a district wide policy. But it isn't. It's only at the junior high. The freshman campus, and the high school allow backpacks. They also allow normal clothing choices. So why just at the junior high?

Not a clue.

Should be interesting tomorrow, that's for sure!

I have to say that by and large, my kids are pretty well behaved. Usually, if I talk to them before we go shopping, or to a movie, or out anywhere in public, they keep the usual sibling picking and bickering to an absolute minimum. And mostly, during this summer where I've been feeling so lousy, they've been careful not to waste Mom's energy in having to curb their arguments.

But, you know, that can't last forever, they're human children, after all, right? The Impertinent One only has so much patience with her Little Bother and his persistent questions, Energizer Bunny bounciness, or his off-key singing. She'll put up with it as long as she can stand it and then... the picking begins.

Soon, I hear him shout, "Stop it!" and then... he retaliates.

And then she complains that he's "hurt" her. He's punched her in the arm, and it's practically broken it! Of course, I'm skeptical. I mean, this is a girl I have watched get straight-armed during a soccer game, watched her get knocked to the ground and bounce back up, fierce as ever, watched her get hit, and hardly flinch.

I also know that Mr. Manzie pulls his punches when he hits his sister.

So... I give them both the Hairy Eyeball, fuss at them for fighting, take away privileges (No more Nintendo! No Wii for three days!), and leave it at that. Peace will reign for as long as half an hour, sometimes. Or the rest of the shopping trip, at least.

Yesterday, though... I don't know. It started off well, but then the Impossible Son got all excited about markers, and pencils, and this year they get to use pens, and he interrupted the Impertinent Daughter when she was trying to tell me some endlessly complex story that involved a lot of back-tracking (and I admit, I don't have a lot of patience for that, though I do try, really hard)...

... and then I saw the school uniforms hanging on racks... AT THE GROCERY STORE.

O_O

Um... school uniforms? I blinked and stared. There they were, racks of khaki and navy blue shorts, slacks, and skirts, with white and dark blue polo shirts, hanging there in the grocery store.

They've never sold school uniforms at our grocery store, which is the only one in town.

Now, I have been checking the elementary and junior high websites regularly this summer, especially since the woman who had been principal at the junior high, the woman responsible for the dress-code shenanigans of the past two years, was elected to the school board and became the school board president. I've been expecting to hear about district wide uniforms, or at least a district wide dress-code change, but... there's been nothing.

However, it would be very like them to spring the change on us on the first day of school. They've done that before. So... I was considerably freaked out, as you can imagine.

The kids got quiet, and were cooperative for about 25 minutes. And... it all went downhill from there. Very frustrating. Even worse, I couldn't find all the things on the list at the grocery store, so... I had to go to WalMart.

And y'all know I just LOVE to go to WalMart (is being very sarcastic).

And guess what was hanging in neat rows in the clothing departments? You guessed it, khaki and navy shorts, skirts, and slacks, with white and navy polo shirts.

I ignored that, and headed straight for the school supplies. It briefly got better there, but fell apart to the point that I had to send Miss Priss to another aisle for HER things, while I went to another aisle with Mr. Manzie for HIS.

But she had to stay with us when we went to look for a new backpack for the Impossible Son.

I don't even want to talk about it.

Let's just say, it should be a lesson to the Impertinent One that most eight year old boys do not appreciate having a Tinkerbell backpack put on their backs where any of their friends might see it.

Worse? I have to go back to get a backpack today. And it's the tax free weekend... starting today.

*whine*

I have posted this photo before, during my "Week in the Life" meme a couple of summers ago. But I'm posting it again. Because I think it is most representative of the relationship between my kids.



She calls him, "Little Bother." I think that says it all.

Miss Priss got her ears pierced today for the very first time. Just her lobes. We found a tattoo/piercing place in San Marcos that we very much liked the feel (and smell) of, and the piercer was a soft-spoken man, very important when it comes to the Impertinent One. While loud people don't bother her like they did when she was small, she still doesn't react well to booming voices in stressful situations, and let's face it, having needles poked into your head is rather stressful when you're 13 years old!

Still and all, she handled it very well. And so did I! *laughs* Considering I have this thing where when I see needles, I tend to pass out, I handled it very well!

The Impertinent Daughter was very nervous, and she was trembling, and she asked me again if it was going to hurt a lot and I said, "A little more than getting your blood drawn, but a lot less than getting your lip waxed!"

That seemed to cinch it.

I held her hand and laid my head on her opposite shoulder while each ear was pierced. This had a two-fold effect. It kept her head still so she didn't jerk or twitch... and it kept me from seeing the needle and fainting, thus freaking out my nervous child! The piercer asked me about it after, and I explained it. He laughed and said I would be surprised how many parents pass out when their kids are having their ears pierced, and it's usually the dads!!

She's very proud of her new earrings and, as usual, she looks very cute! *dies* And she starts 8th grade this year! Ay-yi-yi, time is speeding past!!

Okay, so the Impertinent Daughter and I have been busy. Actually, she drags me out of the bedroom after I read to the Impossible Son, and gets me to scribble with her until I'm so sleepy, I can't stay awake. The result of this is, of course, more Phil and Lucius. Lucius is the cat, by the way, and he has a boy, whom you will meet in this episode.

Watch out, dial-up users, there's going to be a lot of images, and they're large. I'm sorry, but you wouldn't be able to read the dialogue if they weren't large. And for those of you who are not manga-proficient, I have put again put numbers on the pictures so you can follow them in order. For future reference, though, manga are read from right to left, instead of left to right. Just think of it as... reading backward, and you'll be fine.

Anyhow, on to Phil!

( Under the Bed... )

Nicked from shocolate...



... y'all have NO idea how fitting this is!!!

Took the kids to get their hair cut yesterday. Mr. Manzie's was so thick, a jungle expedition could get lost in there, and it was getting wild, cowlicks standing up everywhere, hair going where it wanted, especially in the back. Grandma's Crazy Cajun Hair gene had definitely struck again! In fact, I warned Sherri, our regular hair whacker, to be sure to comb through it before she used the buzz clippers on him, as it was sure to get hung up otherwise.

"Oh, it'll be fine!" she said with a grin. "His hair is so fine, it shouldn't tangle much."

*snort* Yeah. Right.

Five minutes later, she was combing through it. "I've never seen fine hair that was short tangle like that before!"

"You've been spoiled by my thinning hair," I said cheerfully. "Because mine used to be exactly like the Impossible Son's."

He wanted it short on the sides and spiky on top, and has asked me if he can get it high-lighted blue next time. *laughs* Of course, I said yes!

And, of course, I have pictures...

( Clicky and see! )
In other news, I finished my weasley_fest fic, had it betaed and sent in. Oh, what a relief to have that out of the way! Boy, that was a hard one to write, just because I kept approaching it from the wrong angle!! That and the constant interruptions! We'll probably have a discussion about giving Mama time to write (or she go explodey!) this weekend.

And the Husbandly One and I have come to the realization that we are going to have to rig a canopy for our vegetable garden. Some of our plants, like the pumpkins, just can't take the sun. Ten years ago, I had no trouble growing pumpkins in full sun during a drought, but now? They're wilting, even though they are getting watered regularly. We're not the only ones, either. There are a lot of folks out here who are rigging shade for their gardens, because they're burning up otherwise.

Last year, the corn and milo in the fields around town didn't burn up until July. They started turning to straw last week, and the corn hasn't even shown ears yet. The grass in our front and back yard is already gone, and only the gardens are showing any greenery, because that's where we put our water. Makes us wonder what we should put in the yard rather than grass. Well... maybe buffalo grass rather than St. Augustine, which takes insane amounts of water to keep green, and just isn't worth it.

So, all you folks who are getting too much rain are welcome to send it our way. We are dry, dry, dry!!

And now, off to the library!!

Okay, so last night, the Impertinent Daughter decided we were going to do a sort of... manga round robin type... thingy. She's tired of me saying I wish I had time to sketch, etc, but not doing it, so... she grabbed me and sat me down at the kitchen table and the next thing I knew, we had done this...

( Click if you want to see what we did!! )

Percy Jackson and the Last Olympian came out.

The Impertinent Daughter bought it last night with some of her birthday money.

She took it with her to school today to read during her breaks, which means I have to wait until she finishes it to read it myself.

Puckernuts.

*sigh*

And... does everyone have a Dreamwidth but me??? *looks around* How'd that happen??

Thirteen years ago today, I was driving the Husbandly One nuts every time the door to my hospital room popped or squeaked. I'd sit up and say, "Is she here yet? Have they brought her?"

And he'd groan and say, "No, honey, she's not here yet, for pete's sake, GO BACK TO SLEEP!!" because we'd been up all night the night before.

Over and over, any time a door down the hall opened, my door would squeak, groan, or pop, and I'd sit up and say, "Now? Is she here now??"

And he'd throw a pillow at me.

I should have been exhausted, and I was, but I couldn't sleep. I was drugged up to my eyeballs, but I couldn't close them to save my life. I couldn't sleep, couldn't relax, couldn't do anything until I saw my daughter.

Then the nurses finally brought her into my room, and I held out my arms, and they handed her to me, and I forgot all about everything else as I eagerly unwrapped the blankets and counted every finger, every toe, looked into her face, sniffed her head, and kissed her and said, "Yep, this is my kid," then promptly curled up with her in my arms and went fast asleep.

And the Husbandly One said, "Hey! No fair!! You kept me up ALL NIGHT LONG!! WAKE UP!!"

And the nurses said, "AAAACK! SHE CAN'T SLEEP WITH THE BABY IN HER ARMS!! PUT THE BABY BACK IN THE BASSINET!!"

So the Husbandly One picked the baby up and put her back in the bassinet. Whereupon I promptly sat up, not quite awake, and started reaching and whining for my child. So, he picked her back up, put her back in my arms, and I promptly curled on my side with her in my arms and went right back to sleep. When the nurses freaked, THO said, "My wife wants the baby in her arms, she gets to keep the baby in her arms. They'll both sleep better that way. Now, if you're done here, go find someone else to bother!" So they did.

And so began our adventures with the Impertinent Daughter, who introduced us to the joys and horrors of Parenthood. It has definitely been a rollercoaster ride! And we've enjoyed every single second, even the terrifying ones!!

Happy Birthday, Impertinent Daughter! Love you bunches!!

Well, after weeks of eating virtually everything in sight, the Impertinent Daughter had a growth spurt and is probably within one to two inches of being as tall as I am.

It hit me when I was watching her referee a game, and she had turned sideways to me. I thought, "Hmmm, the little pudge she was getting seems to be gone..." And I frowned and realized she hadn't eaten like a ravening, starving wolf the last couple of days, and I thought, "Ah... growth spurt." But it didn't sink in until later that afternoon, when we'd gone into San Marcos to get her some new athletic shoes. She was standing there in her socks, and I had just straightened up from listening to something the Impossible Son wanted to tell me and it hit me...

We were almost eye to eye.

The Husbandly One turned at my gasp, and his eyes went wide and he said, "Auntie, take off your shoes."

So I did.

And it was even more apparent.

*shrieks*

And the Impossible Son has had his own growth spurt. His legs are impossibly long right now, and his shorts are far too short all of a sudden. His feet look too big, and he's clumsy. I think he's about to grow again, and I can't help but think, "But, we just bought you three new pairs of jeans!!!"

My kids are both going to be taller than me. And possibly taller than THO, as well.

*sigh*

In other news, there is a squirrel in our backyard who is getting a little too... demanding. It's not like we're feeding him or anything. But he likes to come to the window where I'm sitting on the computer and peer in, and he whisks his tail and flirts with me. If the window is open, I talk to him, silly nonsense things like, "Hey, Booger, what's up? Find all your nuts yet? Hey, stop digging in my oregano, I just planted seeds in there, you damn squirrel!" etc. However, he has now reached the point where if the window isn't open, or I don't talk to him or make some acknowledgement of his presence, well... he gets a little ... squirrelly. See?

( click to see the squirrel, if you like )

And that's not if the cardinals are at the window, chirping at me like I need to fill the feeders, or something. Except... we don't have feeders out, and haven't since we moved here. We used to keep bird feeders at the 21 House, but not at the Alamo house because... all the cats who got dumped in the neighborhood showed up at our house, and having a bird feeder would have been like serving appetizers...

Apparently, the folks who lived here before us had feeders out, not only for the cardinals, but for hummingbirds, too, because they buzz me when I'm working in the garden in the mornings or the evenings. I just about went cross-eyed last week when I stood up from clearing a bed by the porch and found a rather annoyed hummingbird hovering inches from my nose. If ever a hummingbird could look pissed off, this one definitely was, and ranted at me for about ten seconds before zipping off. It reminded me of my father-in-law, and the hummers at their place up near Texarkana. He always knew when he needed to refill the feeders, because they'd dive bomb him the second he came out of the house. I always wanted to get him one of those hummingbird feeders on a hat so he could sit on his front porch and watch them from up close! *snorts with laughter*

And we no longer have cardinals nesting in the jasmine vines on the front porch. Their nest has been taken over by a pair of vermillion flycatchers. Which aren't nearly as laid back as the cardinals were about our going in and out of the house. They fly off the moment they hear the door knob turning, or when they see us walking up to the front porch. They'd better get used to it, though, because I don't plan to start creeping in and out my back door just to make them happy!

Well, I must get about my day. I think I might finish clearing out that bed in the front yard and plant giant purple zinnias, some golden coreopsis... hmmm... maybe some alyssum, too... or should I plant bee balm?

*wanders off, thinking gardening thoughts...*

And here are the promised photos of the bag I made to carry the Impertinent Daughter's bento!

( Cut for photos, and for length )

( What a glorious feeling, I'm happy again... )

Here it is, the finished blanket!! You get to see it!!

( Beware, oh users of Dial-Up, for verily, thou shalt wait long, because the picture is nigh, and large )