Boo.

I started new migraine medicine over a month ago. I knew I would have break through migraines. And I knew the ones that would break through would be the doozies. But it had been almost a month since my last headache. Normally I have severally a week. Today was my first one. At first I thought it was just allergies. By the time it hit full on, it was bad. I took my treatment medicine, which pretty much wipes me out. So that means, although, I have a funny story and a survey to complete,this is about all you are getting out of me. I am not even spell checking.

See you tomorrow.

Chuck-E-Thief

Until today, I hated Chuck-E-Cheese. It is loud. It is sticky. I generally do not enjoy pizza. I hate video games. Nothing in there offers me any sort of entertainment. And? I find most of the people in there intolerable. Maybe it is just the Chuck-E-Cheese near us, but it seems to attract a very low class crowd. I don't mean financially. I mean actual lack of class. Adults who go out of their way to cut in front of children who have patiently been waiting in line. Multitudes of people stealing tickets and tokens to redeem them on God knows what. Seriously. What on earth do you really need a pink plastic ring so badly for that you would steal tickets from a six-year-old? I just typically can't tolerate it. But today? Today brought a new form of entertainment.

Jill was bribed. Her talking in school had become such a problem, I resorted to drastic measures. I. Was. Willing. To. Go. To...... Chuck-E-Cheese. Earn all "S's" in conduct, go to Chuck-E-Cheese with a friend on Saturday. For the first time all year, she brought home a perfect conduct report. Damn. Oh, I mean, "Way to go JILL!" So to CEC, we went. At least this time Emmi didn't come, so we could sit back in a booth while Jill and her friend ran around and played. I brought a book. Kenny played some games. It was somewhat tolerable.

"I just can't believe how many little kids will try to steal tickets from you," Kenny said, as he slid back into the booth. "Some little girls were trying to take my tickets a few minutes ago."

"Yeah, I just had to shoo two girls away from Jill. She just sets her cup down with all of her tokens. I saw them eyeing it."

In the middle of this conversation, as if the gods are watching and laughing, the two girls run past and see a token Jill abandoned on our table. One of them reaches for it, her finger tips touch the token before she realizes the table is not empty. Kenny and I stare in shock, then choke out laughter.

"Did she really just try to steal that right off of our table? Those were the girls I was talking about!"

Kenny looks at me laughing. "No! Those were the two trying to steal my tickets."

Little thieves! They can't be more than 11 or 12.

Kenny starts laughing. He has a mischievous look in his eye.

"What?"

"I'm going to put a token on the floor by foot, and see how long it take them to try to steal it."

It takes them less than two minutes. I timed it. Kenny and I laugh hysterically. They don't seem to notice. They are concentrating too hard on their strategy for how to steal it.

They make one pass. Then another. They stop, stand to the side, whisper, pointing directions. They walk past slower. Just as one of the girls bends down, Kenny stretches, moving his foot over the token. The girl's disappointment in palpable. They, however, are not deterred.

They choose the game closest to us, one playing, the other standing off to the side near our table. She shuffles around a bit. She eyes us. Kenny and I pretend to watch Jill play a game nearby. The girl scoots closer. She looks at her shoes. She starts to bed over. And? Kenny turns toward me, moving his foot over the token again. The girl looks close to tears. Me? I am also close to tears. Tears of joy!

Yet still, the girls are not willing to give up. They discuss their plan, not bothering to lower their voices. "Just take it," one of the girls pressures the other! The go in for yet another pass. This time, Jill walks up, oblivious to our game. She stands directly on top of the token. I think, perhaps, the two girls might fall over from all of the squirming they are doing. It is almost too much for them. For what must seem to them like twenty minutes, Jill counts her tickets, all while standing on their pot of gold. They scoot closer to our table. They are practically standing on top of Jill.

Kenny and I are laughing so hard there are tears in our eyes. We can no longer hide that we are watching them. The girls retreat. But they do not give up on that token. They watch. They wait. They see us packing up the table. They watch us get up. What they have missed is Kenny smoothly scooping up the token. It is snugly in the palm of his hand. Yet they wait. They watch us walk all the way to the prize counter. When they think we are no longer looking, they run, knocking over younger children along the way. The skid to a stop at our empty table. They look at each other confused. They take turns looking under the table. They check the seat. They both turn small circles. They don't get it. Slowly they look back towards us, where I am doubled over laughing and Kenny stands, holding the token up for them to see.

Next time, we are bringing a camera and some fishing line. We figure we can make this game way more interested with a little help.

Scrap-a-holic

I decided why it is that I like to scrapbook.

See the thing is, I like art. All art. Serious art. Painting mostly. If you have been to my house, you know that my living room has ever changing canvas of my own artwork. Sometimes completely original. Sometimes a look I have copied. It depends on my mood. I change it every few months. My children's rooms and game room also hold original artworks. The walls themselves are also works of my art. My six-year-old has requested that I not change any more rooms while she is out of town. Apparently this has become a bad habit of mine. She goes out of town for a week to see her dad, I completely redesign a room in my free time. She says it is little unnerving to come home and find her home completely different than the way she left it. She actually used the word "unnerving." It is a problem. I admit it.

Room renovations generally begin, you know, like the week before Emmi's first major surgery. So I am well aware that I use it as distraction. Not even so much as a distraction, as a tool to completely shut my mind down. The constant inner monologue of what-ifs and worries and fears completely melts away, and all that is left is "steady hand, straight line, curve to the left, a little more brown, a touch of red." It is impossible for the two to co-exist in my brain. So for a little while I get some peace. Even if, you know, my family comes home to a different color living room every night of the week. I imagine they feel a bit like Alice in Wonderland. Except the size of their surroundings doesn't change. Just the color and pattern.

A few months ago my computer crashed. I recovered and printed all 2000+ photos that were stored on it. Then a few weeks ago, the other computer started having problems charging. It also has many photos. We have been uploading them to snapfish, and gradually printing them. Remember the days of actually owning and looking at your photos? I wondered what to do with all of those photos. It was confusing. What does one do with photos besides email them and post them on blogs? I started organizing them in order in photo albums. That task alone took a week. Then it occurred to me that it would be fun to make a scrapbook for each child. I am crafty. I always meant to do it. I actually have the pictures now. Why not? I mentioned it to my parents, my birthday was a few days away, and next thing you know, I am the proud of owner of a fancy pants cutter machiney thing! JOY! So I started scrap booking. And I discovered that like painting, my brain shuts off. All I hear is, "Hmmmm....I could put a little tree there, and change the font here, and then use orange paper for the background there." And? The best part? My poor child won't have to be tormented by nightmares of ever changing walls.

Happy Birthday to Meeeeee!

It's my Birthday. I am soliciting birthday love.

My parents, sister, and bro-in-law all pitched in to buy my a Cricut cutting machine thingie for my new found obsession of scrapbooking. Yep. Like I need another thing to waste my time on. And, as I told Sheri, of course the first thing I did was make it spell dirty words and prettily arrange them, adorned with ribbon, on Kenny's desk!

This morning, I came home from the bus stop to a breakfast of chocolate cheesecake (YUM!) and presents from Kenny. I got the WHOLE series of Gilmore Girls. I know, I know. Scrapbooking, and now Gilmore Girls. You are wondering if I have any depth at all. But see, the thing is, that show was in it's infant years when I was first divorced. Jill and I used to cuddle up on the couch and watch it together. I liked that it portrayed such a great relationship between a single mom and a daughter. Yes, it is corny. But I needed corny. Corny was about all I could handle then. So I have this great attachment to the show. And now I own the WHOLE SERIES! Yippee!!!

And you know, to balance it out, Kenny did get me a gift card to Barnes and Noble, so I can go get some good literature and stuff. Okay, I lie. I will probably blow it on Us Weeklys and such.

My dad is headed to town to watch Emmi while I meet with the attorney that is representing Emmi (we are still fighting her old insurance company to have them pay the past due medical bills from the surgery they approved, then after the surgery turned around and denied!). He is going to babysit the kiddos this evening, so that Kenny and I can go enjoy a nice relaxing birthday dinner. Perfect!

Hatchin' Stupid Retarded Grow Turtle

Note: If the use of the word retarded by my child or by me (in a joking manner) will offend you, do not read! But please understand, I do not condone making fun of anyone with disabilities. Unless of course I making fun of Emmi. I am allowed to poke fun at my own child when she does things like run smack into the side of the short bus. Seriously, I wish I had a picture of that moment. But in all seriousness, I am the kind of person who believes you have to laugh at yourself, so I use words and make jokes that may shock people. However, I will never tolerate the purposeful intent to harm or malicious jokes or words. With that said.....

Note the turtle on the left is Jill's. The turtle on the right that has sufficiently "popped!" out of it's shell is Emmi's.

The Easter Bunny thought it would be fun to leave the children less candy and more toys. The Easter Bunny is stupid. Well, one half of the Easter Bunny, anyway. The half that bought the turtles. The turtles that have caused lots and lots of screaming in my house. We will call that half of the Easter Bunny, "Laura." Oddly enough, this is also my sister's name.

The children were off taking group photos when the Easter Bunny delivered perhaps the best Easter Baskets ever to the back porches of our cabins. But I guess that is what happens when you have two "Easter Bunnies" splitting duties. You get really fantastic Easter Baskets. Me personally? I was impressed with the Tinkerbell Color Wonder, knock-off floam, and glow bracelets. But my kids? They honed in on those Hatchin' Grow Turtles. It was all I could do to get them to wait until we got home to set them up. Time is of no concept to them, so explaining that they needed to sit undisturbed for 48-72 hours and we were leaving in 24 hours was of no use. I distracted them with the small amount of candy they had in their baskets and lured them away.

We barely made it one foot in the door before they had those eggs out, ready to grow a turtle. I pantomimed/signed/acted/told Emmi what it was. "See it is an egg now. We are going to put it in water, the POP, it will be a turtle." She got really excited. She ran around the house yelling, "POP," and hopping as she said it. Jill read the instructions. Jill helped me fill the bowls. Jill carefully placed her turtle egg in the water. Emmi launched hers from across the room, giggling as it splashed water across the cabinet.

"You are going to mess yours up!" Jill taunted her. Then she leaned close to her bowl and whispered, "I will be a good Mommy to you. I will make sure you hatch right. I won't throw you across the room."

A day later, I peer into the bowls. Shit, shit, shit. Emmi's has "POPPED!" Jill's has still done nothing. I reread the directions. Okay. It says 48-72 hours. Still plenty of time. I check it every few hours. Jill comes home from school. She runs immediately to the turtles. Before she can start whining, I start reciting the directions. "There is still plenty of time, Jill. Plenty. Emmi's just popped out early." Jill looks pissed, but says nothing. Damn. I should have switched the bowls. Too late now. She glares at me, then runs off to play. The turtles seem forgotten for the time being.

This morning as I hand Jill her breakfast, she asks, "Exactly how many days is 48 hours?" I know where this is going. I try to glance at the turtles before answering her. I can clearly see hers has done nothing.

"Well, Jill is says 48 to 72 hours. That is ONE MORE DAY." I try to buy some time. Maybe I can go stock up on some more turtles while she is in school, and get one of the damn things to pop out.

She climbs up onto the cabinet. "My turtle is stupid. It won't work." She pulls it from the water. The shell, softened by the water breaks, revealing a still shrivelled turtle. "Ewwwww. Look at my turtle!"

I giggle. Probably not the appropriate response. Jill stares at me. "Mom. LOOK AT THIS."

"Now, Jill. Just cause your turtle looks different doesn't mean you should love it less. It can't help that it was born that way. Do you love Emmi less because she is deaf?" Kenny practically spits his coffee out.

She looks at me. "Mom. This is just a Hatchin' Stupid Retarded Grow Turtle." Uh. No shit. That was the point I was trying to make.

Lost Maples - Day One

The plan was to leave for Lost Maples between 9 and 10 on Thursday. The clock read 9:59am, when we were pulling out of the driveway. I claim this as a victory. And a sign. The trip was already off to a good start. But we had six long hours of driving ahead of us to ruin that. I planned ahead the best I could. I never allow the kiddos to watch the DVD player in the car. For this trip, I purchased three new DVDs. Enchanted was playing before we had the car in reverse. Jill claims hunger every three minutes. I shoved her full of pancakes minutes before piling the kids into the car. I thought it would buy us at least an hour. Everyone was content. I snapped photos as we drove off (you know, in case I got that scrap booking thing for my birthday from my parents!).

We pulled up to the exit gates for our neighborhood. It slowly rolled back, revealing the road, open before us. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping. The weather was...."MOM I AM HUNGRY!" No. No you are not. I gave her the hairy eyeball. We had a stare down. I explained there would be no food until lunch time. No drinks. No forty potty breaks. We would drive. We would stop for lunch. We would drive some more. End of story. She whined. I turned the radio up. Eventually, she gave up. We were just outside San Antonio before anyone said another word about food.

By 3:00 the flat plains of Texas gave way to mountains. I pointed out this mountain and that mountain to two very unimpressed children. I, on the other hand, was thrilled. I had only see mountains on two other occasions. To appease me, Kenny stopped the car in various locations to snap pictures. The last four miles through the mountains took over half an hour.

The children were thrilled when we finally arrived at the cabins. Although, their excitement was short lived when they realized we were the first to arrive. My parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece, and nephew were hours behind. Their disappointment did not last long, as they were soon distracted by climbing trees, petting horses, and running through acres of property. Kenny and I were anxious to locate the river, so we piled the kids back into the car, and headed back up the dirt road. About five minutes later we see a pickup truck heading towards us. We flag the guy down.

"How do we get to the river?"

He looks at us. He leans out his truck window. He looks our Suburban over, spitting out of the corner of his mouth. He gives us the directions, leaving us with one piece of parting wisdom, "Well, roads pretty tore up. But you otta make it." We had no idea what he was talking about, since the directions he gave us lead us back onto paved roads. We travelled a few miles before the paved road ended. We continued up the winding mountain road, until we got to a traffic light. Which at first did not seem that odd, being that we are city folk, and quite used to traffic lights. Then we noticed, there was no cross street. And typically traffic lights and dirt roads don't go hand-in-hand. This began to seem odd. Then Kenny noticed the sign.

"Wait here for pilot car."

"What's a Pilot Car?" I looked at Kenny with the typical confused expression I wear.

"Better yet, whose job is it to drive the Pilot Car? And does he get to call himself a Pilot?" Kenny asked back.

We had plenty of time to ponder these very philosophical questions because the pilot car took at least fifteen minutes to show up. And? Was not a car at all. It was Hill Billy Bob. In a pick up. Haulin' ass up the mountain road. Our mountain road escort left us in his dust about three seconds into the drive. After we slid around the second curve, we figured out A. why the first guy had examined the tires on our car and B. why we needed an escort up the mountain.

Ten minutes later, we arrived, jostled, but safely, on the other side of the mountain. The kids, in full princess regalia, splashed in the river for a few minutes before determining it was much too cold and rocky. Besides, as Jill informed me, "Princesses don't do rivers." Oh. Obviously.

We toured the rest of the town in ten seconds flat, seeing sights such as "The Hog Pen." Nothing says good BBQ like a picture of a pig in boots and glasses. Then headed back across the mountain to the cabins to await the arrival of my family.

Happy Easter, Vacation, and Photos!

We just got home from vacation. We really enjoyed our trip. My whole family met up in the Texas mountains for the extended weekend. Lots of funny things happened. I have many stories, but I am way too exhausted to tell them now. In the meantime, I hope everyone is enjoying their Easter. My kids are not as hopped up on sugar as usual, because I refused to give them candy while stuck in the car with them for six hours. So, it has been a calm afternoon.

Also, a few of the shots from the girls photos sessions last Monday are on Ashley's blog. Check them out!