I'm Not Buying Video Games

I don't want to name any names, but one of my children has not yet mastered the proper spacing of Christmas bulbs on the tree.



"Daaaaaaaaadddd. Mom keeps moving my bulbs when I turn around."

We are still using the delightful vintage Shiny Brite bulbs Greg pulled out of an attic in a foreclosure. 

We kept telling the kids to be super careful because the bulbs are very, very old and special because they were kept for so many years in mint condition.

"Who did they belong to?", Sarah asked.

Why, kids, those came from great, great, great Uncle Fezziwig's attic.

I spent an enormous amount of time online yesterday trying to buy toys, because it seemed like that was what I was supposed to do since it was Cyber Monday.  I bought nothing in the end and wasted the day.

I've come to this conclusion though.  I am not buying any video games or handheld devices for the kids.  We still don't have a Wii, nor have they ever had Leapsters.   I don't care if other people buy those things, but here are my thoughts on them.

• There are four of them.  They always have someone to play with, so they don't need to be hunkered down on a game.  Go fight outside with your sibling.
• We live in a climate where they can play outside for several hours a day, almost 11 months a year.  
• Sarah and Gregory are reading independently now.  If they are bored, go read a book.
• If Amanda's bored, she draws, colors, paints or creates.  
• Austin is the only one that might become bored when they are at school, but oh well.  He survives. 

Gregory and Austin both want Landshark kneeboards.  And then I found this awesome website yesterday called Fat Brain Toys and you can shop by gender.  Check out the toys they have for 7 year old boys.
I like the Snap Circuit on that list and the Reptangles and the Stomp Rocket.

As per usual, I am getting my customary ZERO dollars for saying I like something.

I could go to Michael's and buy all the girls' presents in 15 minutes.

Last week, I was standing next to a parent of a little girl in Austin's kindergarten class.  She has been a high school teacher in town for 15 years.  She was complaining about how dreadfully hot it is in her room now that the heat is on and it makes the teenagers stink like you wouldn't believe.

"You know which ones stink the worst?", she asked me.

"The jocks?"

"No.  The Gamers.  They come to school day after day in the same clothes, with their hair all greasy from staying up all night playing video games."

"So you can tell which ones are gamers?", I asked.

"Oh, yes.  They sit in a group, but nobody looks at each other and they all have their phones or games in their hands.  They revert back to parallel play like three year olds who don't know how to interact."

Well, that sealed the deal for me.  I'm not letting my kids turn into little stinky zombies.  I'd rather have loud, fighting, clean kids that drive me crazy.

Beware Of Getting Chickens On Craigslist

I called a guy I found on Craigslist over the weekend about buying one chicken to put into my brooder with Matrix Jr. He was on the complete opposite side of town and it would have cost me $10 in gas to go buy one chicken, so I blew it off.

Then he called me yesterday and said he was driving to my side of town and if I would give him my address, he would deliver the chicken.

Since I obviously trust complete strangers I meet on the internet, I gave him our address and would you believe he left a BOX OF CHICKENS for free?

Does anyone get it? Why did he have all these chickens? They are all completely different breeds!!! Which means he must have ordered them, and then WHAT? Decided, OMG, those were the ugliest stinkiest things he'd ever seen before and he should get rid of them ASAP? Isn't that just weird?????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

And the crazy thing is that he told me he had a cross between a turkey and a chicken and I told him I wasn't interested in that AT ALL. I just wanted ONE chicken.

Get me a scarf, STAT

But now I have two freaky turkey-looking chickens. I Googled them and they are called Turkens. Here's what it says about them on Wikipedia.

Despite its highly unusual appearance, the breed is not particularly known as an exhibition bird, and is a dual-purpose utility chicken. They lay a respectable number of light brown eggs, and are considered desirable for meat production because they need less plucking and they have a meaty body. They are very good foragers and are immune to most diseases. The breed is also reasonably cold hardy despite its lack of feathers. Naked Neck roosters carry a single comb, and the neck and head often become very bright red from increased sun exposure. This breed has approximately half the feathers of other chickens, making it resistant to hot weather and easier to pluck.

Holy Mother of God, have you ever seen anything as ugly as this chicken?  Wait, don't answer that, because this is what they look like full grown.  Brace yourself, this is from Wikipedia.



WHAT THE???????????????????????????????????? HECK????????????????????????? Who bred this bird? Frankenstein?  Can you imagine having two of those things running around your backyard?

The internet said they were originally bred in Transylvania.  I believe it.

My friends, Jodie and Fred, had Turducken for Thanksgiving,  Turducken is a chicken, shoved inside a duck, shoved inside a turkey.  They claim it is good, but EWWWWWWWWWWWWWW.  Jodie said if I give the Turken to Fred, he'll make Turkenducken.  Come and get him, Fred.

But I got this sweet one.  I am almost certain this a Barred Rock.  I also have two white ones and one pale pinkish one.  I think the white ones may be Leghorns, but I'm stumped on the other one.

My only chicken is lonely no more.  Now I get to go clean out Bob's shed and move this whole crew across the street.  Greg ain't going for seven chickens in his garage.

It's good to know if I ever need to get rid of my flock, I just need to ask people for their address and do a drive-by.  You obviously cannot sell chickens for any price in Las Vegas.  

My Mormon Mission? Happily Ever After

I have super exciting news today.  I got an email yesterday that I had to share!!!!

If you haven't read my blog for long, I sent the kids to preschool at our community center, where it took me three years to figure out that I was the only person not Mormon going there.  I had no idea.  I just thought it was really cool that we all had a thousand blond-haired children and stayed at home and liked to do crafts  I'm a little sloooooowwwwwww.  In fact, I was so surprised by the revelation, I actually had an identity crisis.   In fact, I am still changed by the whole experience. At no time in my life have I worn more clothing than I do now.

Shortly after my discovery, I wrote this blog post entitled, I'm Looking For A Mormon Guy Who Doesn't Have VD, in hopes of finding a Mormon husband for a single, divorced Mormon gal I met at the community center, who shared the bench with me and my friend Misti during our kids' gym class, and clued us in on the horror of being single and in your 30s in the Mormon church.

After I wrote that post, I emailed Amanda's Mormon boyfriend's mom and asked her if she knew of any eligible men in her ward.  Incidentally, Amanda had the biggest crush on that kid in preschool and hasn't liked anyone since.  To make a long, long story short, Stud Muffin's mom did.  And they went out.  Fast forward a year and a half later, and I got an email  yesterday, entitled Your Mission.

Dear Michelle, You and I met in June of 2009. After hearing about all of my bad dating (and marriage) experiences you took it upon yourself to find me a "Mormon Husband." Greg and I got married yesterday in the St. George Temple. I couldn't be happier. I figure at the very least I owe you a restaurant gift certificate. Thanks for finding me a husband!! -Emily

Could my smile get any bigger?????????? So if you happen upon this blog while you are still in the Divorced Mormon Dating Circle Of Hell, true love can still happen for you. DON'T GIVE UP. Try and find some crazy non-Mormon, triplet-raising, chicken farmer to make your dreams come true.

If anyone else needs a husband, let me know.  I work for restaurant gift certificates!

Mission accomplished!

Three Embryos, Only One Baby, HUH?

Bob put three embryos into the incubator and we got one baby. If I would have put three embryos in, I would have definitely gotten three babies, so next time we incubate, I should be in charge. Now I have one poor lonely chick in the brooder and I am scrambling to find another baby. The feed stores don't have chicks in the middle of winter, so I am turning to Craigslist in hopes of finding some other weirdos growing chickens at this time of the year.

I cannot imagine having that poor chicken alone in the brooder for 3 months. They are not solitary animals.

I spent hours and hours and hours yesterday uploading a year's worth of photos to Sam's Club for printing, and I cannot even begin to believe the amount of photos I took of chickens last year. Good grief. Why hasn't anyone slapped me yet? I did not print a bunch of chicken photos.

It's hard to believe this baby turkey turned into this!!!

Bob smoked the turkey yesterday and it was superb. Even Greg ate it and liked it, which is really saying something. It was tender and had a delicious flavor. The kids really enjoyed it too and they are not huge turkey fans.  I am quite satisfied with the outcome of growing the turkeys, I just feel bad for the one left behind right now.

The Hippie Conspiracy Theorist was at dinner and while we dined, he filled us in on impending death by radiation in the full body scanners.

"I was just scanned a few times on my way to Europe and back.", I told him.

"It changes your DNA."

So does drugs, dude.

"Plus, I've seen videos of men getting off on the images of the women in the full body scanners.", he told us.

"Wait. Are you trying to tell me that guys are getting off on 1 second x-rays?", Greg asked incredulously. "Don't they have the internet at home?"

Anyway, I am not that concerned about going through scanners.  Truth be told, I didn't even know that was what I was doing.  It was no more invasive than going through the metal detector.  If I would have known someone was looking at me naked though, I would have struck a pose.

None of that should matter that much anyway though, since we are going to war with China soon, according to him.

"Who will they sell all their lead-poisoned plastic toys to if they are at war with us?", I pondered.

It was some light dinner conversation and I left knowing I must buy potatoes in bulk, get a distiller, grow worms, and watch for missile contrails, while avoiding radiation and naked pictures.

Who needs the news?  For whoever left the anonymous comment that Bob is cute, he is also really good with children and he can cook.  Could this be a possible Love Connection?

Simon Says Stay At Home

I love me some pumpkin pie!

Greg is out right now trying to score deals on Black Friday. Who else went out there with the masses? Greg has been gone since 3:30 this morning. He was going to try and score four computers at Walmart. Should we do a poll to see if he got them? I say NO.



Simon says I should stay in the nice warm house where the normal people are today.

I HAD A BABY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey Mommy!  Let me out of here!

Nobody is more stunned than I am that I had a baby yesterday!!!!  Can you believe it worked?  I was truly shocked.  Even though this is the 35th baby chick I've raised in the last year, this is my first homebirth.. This means Bob and I can just have babies whenever we want!  I could have babies every 21 days!  Isn't he just adorable?

I won't have chickens every 21 days, because that would make me insane, but I could if the world was ending and I needed to grow my own chickens for food.  If you guys need any chickens when your money isn't worth anything, you better cough up some gold.

While Greg was at the gym and not knowing what I was up to, I set the brooder up in our garage and settled Matrix Jr into his new home.  He is clearly, clearly, clearly the black rooster's baby.  He even has the exact same colored legs as Matrix, our big black lead rooster.  Ohmygosh, I can create my own BIRDS.  Isn't this just crazy?

The kids are just over the top.  They spent over an hour in the garage last night just staring at their new baby chick.



You have to listen to Jerry in this video, pawning foreclosure stuff off on me.  .

Now we await the arrival of his siblings.  We think we can hear sounds from one of the other eggs.  Gosh, I hope so.  He needs a friend.  I would hate to think of him by himself in the brooder.  It will be at least 3 months before he can go in with the other birds, lest he be pecked to death and eaten.  Did I ever mention how gross chickens are?

Let's all pray that Matrix Jr is a girl.

Or I've got Easter dinner covered.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!  May your day be filled with loved ones, thankfulness, and moist turkey breasts.

I'm Moving To Belize

I had no idea that there was a new option in Blogger to change the version of your editor and  make your pictures larger.

I only discovered it after I lost the most adorable picture of Greg's mom and the kids from yesterday at Grandparent's Day at school. I am so disappointed. It is gone forever because I deleted the pictures on my camera. So now I just have to imagine the picture of Grammy having breakfast at school with her grandkids lovingly adoring her.

I was working the food line yesterday at the breakfast and Austin ran up and said, "I didn't know you worked in here, Mom."

The third graders put on the most wonderful performance and one of the kids' friends sang a solo in Glory, Glory, Hallelujah. The principal handed out an award to the grandparent with the most grandchildren. At first, he asked people to raise their hands if they had 25 grandchildren. A dozen hands shot up. Then he said to keep your hand up if you had thirty grandchildren. Half a dozen hands remained. Then he said 35 grandchildren and two hands remained. Then he said forty and one lady still had her hand up.

"How many grandchildren do you have?", he shouted down to her.

"Forty three!", she shouted back.

FORTY THREE. Good golly. Can you imagine?

Barb looked at me and said, "Can you believe she's still ALIVE?"

All I can say is if I have forty three grandchildren, I'll be living in Belize.

Then Grammy got to tour the kids' classroom and see their desks and talk to their teachers. Barb confirmed that Blank and Line-O are in fact Blake and Lionel.

I got a chance to talk to their teacher and she said the kids were doing great together and didn't seem distracted in the least by each other in class. Their teacher, Ms. D, has the newly hired first grade teacher in the classroom, learning the ropes, and the new teacher told me she was in the class for a week and never knew there were triplets in the room. She was stunned when she found out.

This all sounds great to me, because if Grammy has to run around to four classrooms next year on Grandparent's Day, she might move to Belize.

Lucky for all of you guys that the very day I discovered I can get really super big pictures on my blog now, I have this doozy for you.

Bob and Jerry are still single, ladies.  I can't imagine why nobody has snatched these two hunks up yet.  FORM A LINE.

I Am One Of Those People Now

Which one of us will be the guest of honor on Thanksgiving?

Bob and Jerry are slaughtering one of the turkeys today. So they say. I am sad. I got really attached to the turkeys, unlike the meat chickens. I think I was able to stay detached from the meat chickens because we only had them for six weeks, we had 25 of them, and they were really, super disgusting. The turkeys are really friendly, docile, non-disgusting animals and I could see having a couple for pets. Unfortunately, the broadbreasted breed isn't meant for longevity, and these guys are having a lot of trouble walking now and spend most of their time laying under the trampoline.

Greg won't eat the turkeys, so he is cooking his own factory farm bird in our oven, and Bob and Jerry are smoking our free range bird. The kids and I are going to eat twice on Thanksgiving if everything works out.



I have more trouble in my hen house. Now my Barred Rock is all torn up and the other hens are picking on her. I finally broke down and ordered chicken saddles on Ebay. Here is the description:

"This auction is for 4 chicken saddles. These saddles are used on the back of hens to protect their backs from aggressive roosters. The feathers will grow back underneath these saddles while the hens are wearing them. Roosters can wear them too..LOL.. I used 12 oz denim for the backing with 100% cotton print on top. Elastic straps with snaps. Washable. Instructions are included on how to put the saddle on your hen or rooster.

***Metal D-Rings can be added to the saddles for those who want to walk their birds with a leash."

I am kicking myself now for not ordering mine with the D-rings. I really should walk a chicken on a leash before I die.



My gay rooster, Carrot Top, is missing all his tail feathers now. I'm not even going to think about how that is happening, except maybe I can fasten a saddle on his butt. Given the description in that Ebay auction, I am clearly not the only farmer dealing with roosters mounting each other.

I have sunk to an all time low. I buy chicken clothes online. I am one of the people I made fun of six months ago. I honestly didn't realize that chicken clothes are a small investment to keep your flock healthy and producing, when I was LAUGHING MY HEAD OFF at the absurdity of someone fashioning chicken accessories.

I am bringing the incubator and eggs over to my house today. Someone left a comment that they could hatch any time between 18 and 21 days, so it could be any day now. We have the true circle of life going on at the urban ranch.

So how are the kids taking the impending death of our turkeys?



They don't seem to care at all. They tell everyone we are killing a turkey and eating it. I mean, EVERYONE. It's like, SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Stop telling everyone. Gah. People do not get it. We live in the middle of Vegas, not farm country.



They are either real farm kids now, or they are going to grow up to be serial killers.

Your Father Was Actually Santa, Kiddos

I never go back and read my blog. Even when I link stuff that happened from before, I never go back and actually read the whole post. Last night, for some reason, I actually read the post from 2006 when I took the kids, who were 2, 2, 2, and 1, by myself to the Fashion Show Mall on the Strip for their very first photo with Santa. I had them ON FOOT.

OHMYGOD, why did I do that? Was I INSANE????!!!!! Did you guys think I was insane? Did you talk about me? Why can't I remember being insane when I was actually doing stupid stuff like that? Two of the kids got on the elevator and two didn't and I almost ended up losing two and I dived into the elevator. What a NIGHTMARE. I must have been bat shit crazy to think I could walk around a gigantic mall full of tourists with four kids under three on foot.

Anyway, that whole experience was actually more traumatic for Greg than for me. I spent $45 on that picture and Greg still hasn't gotten over it, 4 years later. He has taken over Santa pictures since then. Who could forget two years ago when he took them to Walmart for their photos?



I love the stunned Walmart shoppers in the background. Merry Christmas, random scooter drivers!



The cool thing was that the background kept changing. Look at the pallet of flat screen TVs moving on by. We were The People Of Walmart, before that website even existed.

This year, he read the paper yesterday and announced we were driving over to Bass Pro Shops for free Santa photos. As you can imagine, I was suspicious. But it is true. Bass Pro Shops has free Christmas photos. For the first time ever, the kids got to sit on Santa's lap by themselves.



Gregory wants a DSI. Is that a video game?



Amanda wants an American Girl doll.



Sarah asked Santa for a dog.



Austin asked Santa for a computer.

Someday, when you grow up, kiddos, you will understand that your father was actually Santa and that is why you didn't get any of those things. Your father was the guy that got free Santa photos, took you to Sam's Club to eat free samples for lunch, pretended to want to buy furniture to get you free hot dogs, drove to five 711s on free Icee day, and taught you to pick up spare change under the cash registers at the grocery store.

That's why he was able to send you to college. HO HO HO.

You Bring The Alcohol, I've Got The Jelly

With all the talk of the end of the world on Fox News lately, thank goodness I've got a stockpile of pomegranate jelly on hand now for when the electrical grid goes down and we have to scrounge for food like indigenous people. Has anyone else been following the doomsday predictions?

Watch Finnskimo come on and say, "Is that all you made? Eskimos make that much jelly before breakfast."



Greg and I take end of the world predictions very seriously. Remember when it was ending in 1999? Y2K was barreling down on us. We were going to lose our water, electricity, and gas. ATMs would stop working and we wouldn't have access to cash. Phones and the internet were going to crash. We wouldn't be able to communicate.

So we bought a case of Spam, a pile of ammunition, and filled up the bathtub and sink with water and hunkered down...........



......on the Strip with a million people we'd never met before.



It was frightening. We planned for the worst and parked our car on the West side of the Strip in case we had to walk four blocks to flee the carnage.

I'm still shocked we are still here. Spam, anyone?

But in light of the grave new threat to our safety and well-being, I have had some serious discussions with my friend Misti about how we, as a people, have lost our ability to care for ourselves in the event of an emergency, and how we have lost the knowledge for food preservation and storage, along with basic survival skills. I certainly didn't learn any of these basics from my mom.

It took me three long, grueling years to perfect pomegranate jelly. Gallons and gallons of syrup later, I finally feel that I am the pomegranate jelly expert. You guys, I had a Mormon lady track me down in the library and ask my advice on juicing. Do you even understand? I have a reputation now.

Of course, without my neighbor Jo's tutelage, I would know nothing. This year is the year I finally spell it out and label it on my blog, so next year I will stop freaking out when November rolls around.



You start with four cups of pomegranate juice. I cut the pomegranates in half and juice them with a citrus press. This is not the most efficient way to get out all the juice, but pomegranates grow for free around these here parts and digging out seeds is not something that is necessary when you have a couple hundred pounds available.



I sterilize all my jars in a big pasta pot. It really isn't necessary to buy all the expensive gadgets. You just need boiling water. You are going to burn yourself no matter what.



The way you get crystal clear pomegranate jelly is to let the pith settle in the juice for a couple days. Then you pour off the lovely clear juice when you measure and dump the pith juice out. I didn't listen to Jo the first year and I got cloudy jelly.

Then you add one package of pectin and bring it to a boil and boil hard for 1 minute, before removing it from the heat and adding five cups of sugar. I use regular pectin and full sugar. Why? Because I'm looking for VOLUME. If you have ever spent 10 combined hours juicing 200 pounds of pomegranates, you understand the value of stretching that juice as far as it will go.

Once the sugar is dissolved, you bring it back to a hard boil for 2 minutes, then remove it from the heat, skim the yucky stuff off the top, and put it in your jars.

I then put the lids on, place it back in the pot, and boil for 5 minutes to seal the tops.

If the end of the world happens, I've got chickens, a garden, and jelly. You bring the alcohol and we'll all be set.

I asked Greg what he thinks of these new dire predictions and what we should do to better prepare our family?

"We don't have to do anything. I have guns. I will shoot the people with the food and take it."

Well, okay then. We could save some serious time and just do it Greg's way.

Toys Bore Me

I come home nearly every day and Jerry has left something for the kids on the porch.



Look what Jerry Claus had on the front porch yesterday! That's exactly what I need.



The world's largest stuffed animal which will never set foot in my house.

Last week, the kids brought a boy home to play after school (not the one in this photo) and after he was playing in the boys' room for awhile, he told me, "My room is much cleaner than your boys' room because I don't play with toys anymore. Toys bore me."

"Do you watch TV?", I asked him.

"No. We don't have a TV."

"Do you play video games?"

"No."

Does your mom lock you in a closet, you freaky little Man Child?

Have you ever heard of a six year old boy who no longer plays with toys? How weird! He'd be cheap for Christmas shopping!

Here are some socks and another roll of duct tape to keep you quiet in the closet.

We had all kinds of drama during their first Spanish class on Thursday. I happened to sit next to a lady from Uruguay who spoke Portuguese as her primary language and also English and French. Her daughter was already fluent in Portuguese and English, but wanted to learn Spanish also. So while the kids were in class, we had long discussions about all sorts of things.

When her daughter came out of class, she was very upset.

"We are learning Mexican, not Spanish.", she told her mom.

Apparently, Mexicans use a lot of different words. She used the word "brown" as an example, which is different in Mexico than in Spain. There was a lot of Spanish and Portuguese thrown around and I didn't really understand what they were saying.

Anyway, the daughter wasn't very happy about it.

"But wouldn't Mexican be more valuable to learn here in Nevada?", I shrugged.

So in Mexican class, there were these two boys that were so out of control, they essentially made the class impossible to teach. They are known as huge troublemakers at our school and I see their parents everywhere and the mom is either clueless, stupid, or so heavily medicated she is nearly comatose. These rotten boys are in third grade and fifth grade and they are vulgar, obnoxious, and completely out of control. There are rumors around school that they have ADHD, but my friend Laraine has a son with ADHD and I can tell you right now, those boys should have been diagnosed with Lack Of Parenting. There is NO WAY my friend Laraine would EVER EVER EVER let her son get away with just being a rude asshole. She is ON IT. Even if they truly have ADHD, it wouldn't account for their vulgarity and disrespect.

So the next day, I called the Mexican class lady and told her, "If those two boys are in class next week, you can give me back my $192 and I will withdraw my children. I am not paying good money for my children to watch goons for 45 minutes."

She kicked them out.

Gracias!!!!!

I will end this post today by pointing out that it has been confirmed that the internet site yesterday about voting on abortion was not real. Thanks for pointing me to the lunatics. We should have a Lunatic sightings or Lunatic link on the sidebar.

Birthornot? Total hoax in my opinion.

All anyone was talking about yesterday was the married couple who has created a poll on their blog to decide whether to abort or give birth to their baby. The website is birthornot.com Several people emailed me to give me heads up on the drama. Thanks!

If you don't want to click on the link, and I don't blame you, the couple is from Minnesota and has been married for 10 years. She has had 2 miscarriages before and now they feel they've waited too long and she has a new career and she says if she had to juggle a career and one baby, her head might pop. Awwwwwwww. It must be so hard to take care of one baby.

Now news and radio are picking up the story. They claim they will make their decision on the results of the poll. If more people vote to abort, they will abort. If more people vote to give birth, they will give birth.

I went to their website and read news articles and looked at the ultrasound pictures (way too many for a single gestation, by the way.) I also looked at her Facebook and even though they are giving interviews, I am calling this as a hoax. Nobody is getting aborted. Her Facebook page lists her as a methodist and a fan of Glenn Beck.

I am calling this as a pro-life stunt. I could be wrong, but that is my intuition.

So as long as people are promoting fake polls as real, and getting the whole blogosphere upset, let's do one here.



I am due to give birth to three chickens on Thanksgiving day.



Try and be optimistic, people. This is NOT A HOAX.

Who Are These Children?

The kids were speaking amongst themselves last night during dinner about chess club.

"Wait. You guys are in chess club?", I asked in astonishment.

"Yes. We learn about chess on Mondays during recess.", Sarah told me.

Apparently, the three of them joined chess club six weeks ago and this is the first I've heard about it. Gregory has already dropped out and now just the girls are going. Gregory said he'd rather play soccer.

"Do you like chess, Amanda?", I asked again.

I would have NEVER pegged Amanda for a chess player. WOW! Talk about how far off base I am. WHO ARE THESE CHILDREN?

She told me she loves it. This is another example of the children really blossoming in school and why the thought of homeschooling means I would stifle them. What Greg and I have decided to do is implement a first grade curriculum which we will work on with them in the evenings. We specifically are working on math, since they missed math last year at school. I don't have time to link the websites I'm looking into today, but I will soon.

This way we feel we can keep them up to grade level in the rest of the world, without taking them out of school, which they are CLEARLY benefiting from.

Today they start Spanish school, which I plan to sit in and try to get a free lesson.

Has anyone been reading Jen@Amazingtrips anguish over playdates?

Here is my take on afterschool playdates.

They are a pain in the ass. They truly are. When we get home from school, I want to start dinner and sometimes that is delayed by having a bunch of kids at my house. HOWEVER, I see playdates as a very valuable thing. Playdates have given me the chance to align my children with children in our neighborhood who I feel have good character and families. Having started that in kindergarten, I see those bonds and alliances carrying over to first grade. The two boys Gregory hangs with at lunch are the two smartest most responsible boys in his grade.

And NO, Gregory does not hang out with his sisters at lunch. In fact, the girls' friends say, "Here comes your annoying brother."

Which he finds hilarious. He loves being an annoying brother. He told the girls' friends, "Just call me Gregorina."

The group of kids in the upper photo? That is my after school gang. The collective group is in GATE and student council. We have an alliance of really smart well-rounded friends which took nearly a year of cultivation on my part.

Was it worth the effort? I believe it was. I am happy to know these children and I consider it a smart chess move. The people who are too afraid to allow their children to participate in playdates are really missing out on forming those alliances and I don't know how that benefits the kids in the long run. I, personally, will not live my life in constant fear of what MIGHT happen and I will not overthink every situation we encounter.

Letting go is hard and terrifying. Letting go is a leap of faith. But I consider the playdates just another part of the game of life.

Checkmate.

Fill In The Blank

When I was driving Austin and Emma back from the park yesterday morning, Emma said to me, "My mom used to be an Egyptian princess in her previous life."

"No kidding. I used to be a clown in my previous life.", I told her.

Word of warning. Whatever you tell your children, they repeat it to everyone. I can't imagine the stuff other people hear my kids saying.

I haven't mentioned it lately, but Greg's mom still comes to my house every Tuesday afternoon and stays for dinner, unless she is in Michigan, where she now lives half the year to get away from us. Can you blame her?

Last night, Greg was making dinner, (mark that one on your calendar) and the kids and I and Grammy were on the back porch. We were all gathered at the table and they were drawing pictures of things they are thankful for.



The kids kept going on and on about this boy named Blank at school.

"Blank?! Are you sure his name is Blank?", I asked them repeatedly.

Of course Grammy can't hear anything anyway, so she was saying, "What are they saying? Blink? The child's name is Blink?"

"Blank!", I yelled at her, "As in, there is nothing on the paper. It's blank."

Then I asked the kids if maybe the kid's name is actually BLAKE, not Blank?

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!", they all exclaimed in unison. "It's BLANK."



Then they started telling us about this bully named Line-O. Line-O this, Line-O that. Line-O trips people on purpose.

"Are you sure his name isn't Lionel?"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! It's LINE-O."

"I don't understand a word your children are saying.", Greg's mom told me.

"What does Line-O look like?", I asked them.

All three said, "He's bald, like his brother."

"What do you mean he's bald? Like he's got a crew cut or bald like Uncle Chuck?"

"Bald like Uncle Chuck.", they agreed.

Hmmmmmmmmmmm. That's weird. I can't picture a child with cancer being a bully. I wonder what that story is? The family that shaves together, stays together?

After dinner, we were sitting on the front porch in the pitch dark, watching the kids burn off the excessive energy, when Jerry wandered up. Barb and I were laughing about the names again, when Jerry gave us his interpretation of the conversation.

"Maybe his name is Blank, because his parents forgot to write down his first name on his birth certificate and left it blank."

Jerry was definitely a clown in his previous life.

I am thankful for the constant laughter or I would be insane.

Meet Our New Friend, Hooker Barbie

Ohmygoodness, look at this new Barbie from Mattel.

Isn't she a wholesome looking young gal? Who is working at Mattel these days? Hugh Hefner?

"I know. I know. Let's make an Escort Barbie for the Las Vegas market."

"You are brilliant, Hugh. Should we include a boombox for in-room entertainment?"

Who would buy this doll? Seriously. Would you? You are not allowed to participate in this discussion if you have a penis.

I Should Have Crashed The Infertility Reunion

My triplet mom friends, Andi and Laura, asked me last week if Greg and I were going to the Infertility Reunion, yesterday, hosted by their fertility doctor? There was going to be ponies and free food. I reminded them I used a different doctor so I couldn't go.

"You should go anyway. You have triplets. Nobody will notice you.", Laura said.

"I'm not going to go CRASH an infertility reunion."

"Free food and ponies!", Laura badgered me, "He won't remember if he got you pregnant anyway. It was seven years ago."

Don't you think he remembers the triplets? Like, OOPS!, another set of triplets. Damn it. Even though we definitely went through the triplet population explosion here already, I really don't think they were churning out THAT MANY triplets.

So I turned down the free ponies and food. I would like to know what's up with Dr. Fisch at SIRM? Where is our reunion and free food and ponies? Eh? Do you think I can afford pony rides with this brood you impregnated me with?



Instead, we went to Nellis Air Force Base to see the airshow. Greg really has a short memory, because the last time he took them there by himself, 2 years ago, Austin peed his pants and the other kids laid on the ground and started taking their clothes off. That was when he proclaimed he was never taking the kids anywhere again. Fortunately, I have this blog to bring all this stuff up again.

Where was I 2 years ago? I was dining at the Bellagio with Auntie Jodie when he was at the airshow. I'm sorry I missed that one.



Fast forward two years later, and you can see the children love airshows as much now as before. While I would love to impress upon them the importance of our military and the sacrifice our servicemen make for their freedom, they just aren't liking the airshows yet.

People have to pee. People are hungry. People are thirsty. People are hot. People can't walk.

I sat on the concrete and envied the folding chairs with umbrellas. I'm getting those for my soccer mom stint. Meanwhile, I was getting texts from Andi and Laura.

"You should have come. This is so great."

"This is a blast! Wish you were here."

The final text from Laura said she talked to the fertility doctor and he told her she was the very last patient that he implanted 3 embryos in. The only triplets he sees now is when one egg splits and he gets a pair and a spare, like Andi and Jen's girls. How freaky is that for Laura? She is like the very last Who down in Whoville. We truly will be an era, us old triplet moms.

I wouldn't change a thing though. Well, maybe one. I would have went with the fertility doctor with free ponies and food.

The Dropout Factories

Yesterday, Greg approached me and said, "I have tickets for me and the kids to go to the UNLV Homecoming game. Do you want to go?"

"Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh. I'm fine. You guys go. Have fun!"

I wish I would have snapped a picture of my little jocks all bundled up, heading off into the night to their very first college football game, but the excitement of a night off overwhelmed me.

I got in the car and went to see the documentary, Waiting For Superman, which is a movie about our failing public school systems.

It was depressing. I should have gone to a comedy. I audibly sobbed during parts of it. Everything I've been writing about on this blog since my kids entered school? It was like watching it on the big screen. If you've had the opportunity to see this movie, you know those poor kids who have no future? I see those kids every day.

There were a couple comments people left on my blog that have haunted me. It was when I was writing about the disadvantaged black child, named Lerayshawn, in their class. Someone wrote that his fate was sealed the day he was born. And somebody else wrote that he was born behind due to his circumstance of birth.

Then every aspect of those statements were highlighted in the documentary. And seeing and hearing it was as painful as watching it. Do you know why I haven't talked about him lately? He is gone. He went to school for 2 weeks.

Then the movie also highlighted something I already knew to be true. If you aren't in the accelerated track by the time you get to middle school, you are on the track to nowhere. I knew that. My friend Misti and I talk about it. You get stuck in Gen Pop. General Population. You are almost certain to either not graduate or not be capable of going to higher education for sure if you end up mainstreamed with the Gen Pop kids. Especially in Nevada.



And the movie also highlighted what I wrote about a couple weeks ago, about the difference an effective teacher makes. The movie said an effective teacher can cram 150 percent of the curriculum into a school year, whereas an ineffective teacher sometimes only covers 50 percent of the curriculum. No kidding. I saw that last year.

Which highlights for me the fact that if I arbitrarily split them, the chances there will be three effective teachers in one grade are slim. It will be like playing Russian Roulette with their education.

Click. You get the good one.

Click. You get the good one.

Bam. You get the bad one. Now you will be a year behind the other two.

The other depressing and sob-inducing part of the movie highlighted the significant disadvantage of trying to get your child into a better school. The lottery system that is in place for charter or magnet schools. It was heartwrenching to watch. I know the anguish only too well of desperately trying to get them into preschool and not getting the few available spots. I can only imagine crossing my fingers and praying for middle school.

Then there is the fact that getting four kids in anywhere would be almost impossible.

Anyway, the whole thing left me utterly depressed and almost catatonic today.

The bottom line is that we have to go after the teacher's unions and get rid of tenure. I have always thought stupid people should not be rewarded for being stupid. If you aren't good at your job, go find something else to do. I've been accused of being a diehard Democrat on this blog, but I will go after ALL stupid people or stupid systems. No party affiliation will hold me back.

It you suck at your job, I don't want you teaching my children. BUH-bye.

I looked at the numbers of the high school they are slated to go to. It has 2200 children. 123 kids go to higher education in Nevada and 20 percent of those children must be remediated. And that high school is actually one of the better ones. Sadly, some of the better neighbors have even worse numbers.

Meanwhile, we have opened enrollment in Nevada for the coming year. I am plotting my next move. Plotting. Plotting. Plotting.

My head might explode.

We Don't Need No Education

Since the Clark County School District feels it isn't necessary to teach the kids in November, they have left me no choice. Looks like I'm unschooling now.

Cue in Pink Floyd.



We don't need no education.



We don't need no thought control.



No dark sarcasm in the classroom.



Teachers leave them kids alone!



Hey! Teacher! Leave them kids alone!!!

All in all it's just another brick in the wall.

All in all you're just another brick in the wall.

Did Stoners at your school wear moccasin boots and Pink Floyd shirts and hang out in the Smoke Pit? Can you imagine we used to smoke ON campus? Do you even understand how ridiculous that is by today's standards? You guys will find this hard to believe, but I used to flit around in all the groups. I hung out with Stoners, Glams, and Preps. The only group I never hung out with was Jocks.

Then I married one and gave birth to Jock Children. That was totally not in my life plan at all.

I thought the lyrics were, "The darks are chasm in the classroom." until I just Googled them.

When we were sitting in the grass, the kids found an iPhone and brought it to us. So I started looking through it and it belonged to a CHILD. The first text message was to Dad and it said, "SpongeBob is so lame Dad." So I thumbed through the contacts and found Dad and called him.

"Hi! Dad? I'm at Mountain's Edge Park and I just found this iPhone!", I told him.



Dad was stunned. Greg was in the background, saying, "Reward. Ask for a reward."

The 10 year old child was at the park with her grandparents and when they were reunited with the iPhone, Greg told Grandpa, "I don't think she's old enough for that phone."

Well, okay then. Another big day of unschooling ahead. Yesterday we learned about not falling off a cliff, irresponsible child iPhone users, and that you can get hurt playing Red Rover.

Today, the children are going to learn how to unload a semi for food at my food co-op. Work for food. I think that is a valuable life lesson.

It will be a proud unschooling moment for me.