insert snarky title here

Seriously there are no words. A family in a town about 30 minutes north of me threw their daughter a party for her 6th birthday... and spent $32,000 on it. Yes you read that right.

They were on a show on TLC called over-the-top birthday parties. Um- over-the-top, really, ya think? That's pure insanity, not over the top. Who does this- seriously? I don't care if TLC really did pitch in a little, that's just wrong.

Who has 2,000 guests for a 6 year old's party- what 6 year old even knows 2,000 people? And costumes for them all! I can think of a way better use of 32 grand. Even if I had nothing that I needed it for- I still wouldn't spend it on a birthday party. There's a million things that kind of money could do, how many lives it could save, how many kids it could educate, how many books I could read.

The funny thing- both Schroedad and I asked the same question when we saw this on the news. Smarty Pants: How long does she have left? Schroedad: Is she gonna die? Answer: Nope.

Even if someone offered to throw a party like this for the Girl Child, and I didn't have to pay a dime, I still wouldn't let it happen- not even for a wedding. Because that's just nuts.

a valentines tragedy

I know I'm a little late with the Valentineish post, but you already know how I feel about the day in general.

Still, I'll tell you, in more detail than you'd really care to read, just what happened on this day of all romantically laden days.

A treasure hunt is what. I had to find valentine cards, Shrek ones in case you were wondering, I'm still missing one. On said cards were expressions of love, and promises for acts of service. My favorite one of all, "good for one foot rub- both feet" That's generosity people. Especially since I mostly wear flip-flops and my heels are sort of crackly.

One thing that didn't happen, thanks to the mood killer called Girl Child, who popped up out of no where at the most inconvenient of times- I didn't get a good kiss- all day. I'm not talking a quick peck on the cheek either, I'm talking a good kiss where you sort of forget to breathe and stagger away with a silly grin on your face. Now there's a good tragedy, Romeo- Shcmomeo.

wherein I run an orphanage

How to Run an Orphanage
or pretend you're the Duggars on TLC
whichever you prefer
By Smarty Pants

First make sure you have lots of kids, any age will do. Take, for example, the 8 kids I had at my house this morning. A 10 year old, two 8 year olds, a 5 year old, a 4 year old, a 2 year old, a baby of 11 months, and a baby of 8 months.

To begin, you should agree to have your brother's kids stay over, on a school night if possible, so he & his wife can go to a nice hotel. Veterans day discount you know. Make sure you have a pack & play or other sort of crib for the baby.

Then you watch four extra kids that don't belong to you, on very short notice. Next add your own kid to the mix, and voila- an orphanage.

Honestly- I was insanely happy, and a little crazy, to have all of those kids. Why is that, do you think? I'm sure no one spiked the punch, I've not had a head injury recently, and I'm not taking any medications. I really have no logical explanation. But, I wasn't sad to see them go either- so that must prove my sanity, right?

an ipod and truffles to be given

Emma's costume- cutest ipod ever
She came up with it on her own, clever girl.

I know I'm exceptionally lame for taking this long to choose a winner, but trust me when I say you wouldn't have wanted any thing sent to you from my house last week anyway.

Without further ado, the winner drawn from the bowl of fate is- Karen. Just be happy I didn't enforce the idea from Schroeder's comment on said post.

Wait- there's more- seeing as I make the truffles in gigantic batches, and I'm sending some to both of my brothers that are far far away anyway- everyone else, yes all 3 of you, get some truffles too.

They're just not winning truffles. They're giftish truffles? Or some other, more appropriately named, type of package of deliciousness in the mail.

Email me your addresses and I'll ship those suckers to you next week, except Keri- I'll just walk them over.

golf lessons

* warning, the following contains heavy sarcasm, and is a joke loosely based on an actual conversation. And I truly do love those teens of the '00's

I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been too busy judging the youth of today. The problem, as everyone knows, is that the youth of generation "next" (and you know who you are) are only concerned with having fun. Since when was life fun, I'd like to know? Since when was work an entertaining romp? Since never.

Mary Poppins tried to sell us that bill of goods 40 years ago, but most of us were smart enough to know better. But not the youth of today. Everything is fun, fun, fun. Everything is a circus with free, limitless pony rides. With their texting and their youtube shows, I tell you! Well, anyway.

The thing that really bothers me about this listless, vile generation is that they have no concept of winning. They have yet to learn a valuable lesson: that winning is everything. I hate it. Work and winning go hand and hand, but don't tell that to the teens of the 00's, with their Rihanna and their krump dancing.

Perfect example: The youth playing indoor mini-golf. As the lone winning-minded adult on my team I felt I had the duty to teach them about winning. But no- they were all cheering for the other teams and high fiving their mistakes away with some good natured ribbing thrown in for good measure. They weren't learning about real life. But they were sure having fun! Even the other leaders were embracing this whole new 'lets just play for fun attitude'. Big enablers.

I don't know what to do about the youth of today. It makes me sick even thinking about it. Do you have any ideas? What's that? Paper routes? That's so 80's. What else? Free car washes? Good luck! They just make fun posters and soak each other with suds. I give up.

I'm not angry, just disappointed. Well, I'm like 60% angry and 40% disappointed. I bet forty years from now our President will be some Red Bull addict who sits at home playing Garage Band. It's basically the apocalypse. Sound bleak? Well, don't kill the messenger.

false finishes

The three musketeers

The cousins are the siblings she's always wanted. They're her "BFF's forever"- somehow I think the 'BFF' was lost in translation. And they're having a sleepover in a tent in their backyard- the last of the season, also the first- but who's counting. I'm not so sure that any of them will last the whole night outside, as we've had 3 near abandonments of the tent already, we'll see.

Cautiously optimistic, that's where I stand for now.

dead solar batteries

Spring Break is over- The Girl Child had to go back to school today, neither of us was ready for that, but somehow we managed. What ever happened to week long school breaks? It's not like she gets out of school exceptionally early or starts late, there is only 1 month during the summer that she doesn't attend school at all. I know, I know 3 days in June and August isn't much- but it's still only July- the glorious month of July that is untouched by the long reaching tentacles of school. I like my kid for Pete's sake, and school is not daycare. But alas I'm ranting again, how does that happen?

So I should be spending this time getting my house ready- my mama is coming to visit- for Emma's baptism you know. Sheets need to be laundered, the downstairs bathroom needs to be freshened and stocked, the regular chores need to be attended to as well, I have a few loads of laundry to put away- that would require folding them first I know. And yet here I sit looking at the snow and the gray dreary clouds, wondering why spring has left me sun-less. I think I run on solar energy, and I haven't seen the sun enough lately to fully charge my battery.

On a more energetic cleaning note, Emma mopped the floor for me yesterday- it nearly brought tears to my eyes. Not just because it was a sweet gesture, and it was, but I'm plotting and planning. Now she can mop the floor in her bathroom, one more chore she can do for herself. It's enough to make a mother weep I say. Oh I know some people think I'm a cruel and heartless mom, making that poor child clean and all. But really I'm doing her a service, she'll thank me later I just know it.

the secret life of E

Did you know that children have whole other lives at school, secret lives even. It's like they're spies or incredibles or something equally exciting and dangerous. They have their home identity and then there is the school identity aka their 'cover'- and really who knew? not me.

At home they may loathe something, like soccer or basketball-team sports in general for instance, but at school they're all over that on the playground. Oblivious to certain things at home{all things Disney channel} but at school they are suddenly experts on the Jonas Brothers? And the whole school outfit vs the Saturday play outfits, when was there ever a difference? Why all of a sudden dresses and matching your bff's ensemble of the day? How did this evolve- is there some sort of class about it on the playground? Is that what the little girls are standing there talking about instead of jump roping now?

When did it happen that I don't know all; the omniscient Mother is no longer, may she rest in peace.

Moming 101

Cool mom tips that we all should know

1. Swoop the laces twice and you won't have to tie a double knot, or pick one out ever again
2. Cocoa butter is the cure all for skin ailments, if it doesn't fix it you probably need a prescription
3. Suave detangling spray and a rubber band can fix the worst hair day

Ok that's all I've got for now. but they really do work, and 3 great tips are better than 7 lame ones any day right?

Wrong Hotel

Somehow I've been getting a 4am awke up call that I never ordered. No matter how many times I assure them that I don't, in fact, wish to be woken up they persist. and it's not just a phone call either, it's a small needy child that will not be ignored. A drink of water, she's cold, stuffy nose, each night it's something new. I think I'm at the wrong hotel.

a momentary cessation eluded

Inspiration is the momentary cessation of stupidity, and apparently I'm not having a cessation of any sort. Girl Child had to have a CT scan yesterday, because I can't tell the difference between constipation and something more serious... stupid, stupid, stupid. I know she was seen by a doctor and he ordered the scan, but I assumed that she was on a "regular" schedule, if you know what I mean, so that was ruled out, and appendicitis was the new worry. see what assuming does. 4 hours later they tell us, it's not anything emergent, just full of poo. then the water heater broke-the real one, not metaphorically speaking. It was an exciting, not in the good way, and expensive day all around. Can I have a groundhog day type of do over? Then I'd know what was coming, and maybe get it right after 4 or 5 tries.

Real estate: an ode to the Schrodad

Emma is the proud owner of a prime piece of real estate, this house is awesome- two levels, hardwood flooring, new deck, freshly painted- it's a really sweet place... for Polly Pocket and Barbie.




The sweet interior




Those fabulous hardwood floors
Dear Schroeder,

Thanks for finishing the doll house, it really looks great. I know it was a lot of work and many cold evenings in the shed, and you should see how Girl Child loves loves it ever so much. She dreamed of it last night. I think it qualifies you for Schrodad of the year.

Love,
Smarty Pants

She started out under the covers with her head in the right place, no wonder she drifts into our room every night.

answered

After family prayer and scriptures yesterday morning I heard the most glorious thing.

"Can I just go to school now, please?"

While yes I was a bit put off at the fact she didn't want a hug or kiss before school, I was elated to hear her say those words.

It gets better.

When I asked about her day as we walked home from school I got the answer I've been longing to hear- "It was a perfect day, mom, I loved it."

I feel so blessed; faith was exercised, a prayer was answered, and school is happy.

exercise

"Too many people confine their exercise to jumping to conclusions, running up bills, stretching the truth, bending over backward, lying down on the job, sidestepping responsibility and pushing their luck." -Anonymous

I've been exercising too much, particularly walking all over people and pushing my luck, or planning to anyway. I really hope for Emma to have a good year in school, I'm afraid of what the consequences will be if not.

I hoped for a certain teacher for the girl, requested said teacher in fact, did not get what I hoped for.

I have had my speech and arguments all planned out in my head for how to get her into the teacher I think she'll do best in.

Hopefully the school will be willing to bend over backward to accommodate this request.

I know it seems overbearing and smother mothery to request certain teachers, to not accept what teacher has already been assigned, and I know I am a little of both. And really who am I to think I know what teacher is the right one, who am I to be so demanding?

I don't know.

All I do know is that I just want a happy year for her.

I suppose I need to try a little different type of exercise, the kind where I trust in Heavenly Father- cause He knows her even better than I do. I need to exercise my faith that He'll take care of her.

Human gumball machine

There was a young lady who swallowed a token
I don't know why she swallowed a token, maybe she's broken

I couldn't think of anything that rhymes with coin.

When she was 3 she put a bean in her nose, lesson learned.
At 5 rocks in her ear, again lesson learned.

I really thought that since she is 7 now, going into second grade that this was one orifice that she wouldn't have to learn a lesson about. I was wrong. She put an icky token in her mouth, you know the ones for the arcades that a million gross little hands have touched, and accidentally swallowed it. It gave her the worst belly ache for hours, and hopefully she has since gotten rid of it-who knows. And now she knows don't put things that aren't food into your mouth-hopefully.

And no she doesn't dispense gumballs when she eats a token, unfortunately.

Somewhere new

We have arrived at a new place in our lives, one which doesn't involve a certain chain resturant anymore. Emma announced "Mom, I have outgrown Mcdonalds" when we were deciding where to go for dinner (we ended up getting take out from cafe rio).

This is a new and happy place.

In one week

In one week we'll be back at the school days routine, hopefully a whole new one this year. One that doesn't include crying every morning or my freinds having to rip my child off of my body as I walk away and she is dragged to class.

No more purposely being late to school or begging to stay home and me almost caving every time. No more tears, hers and mine-although mine were always later. No more questioning why I am doing this to her every day-wondering is it really worth it- not much learning going on anyway. No more faking being sick, and getting away with it sometimes.

We need a kind year, a gentle one where she only wants to stay home when she is really sick, and recess will be fun and where her teacher is loved and adored. That is what I'm praying for, just happiness.

Name withheld

For a period of 3 years I did not have my own name, I was mainly known as "Emma's mom".
As in "Hey Emma's mom can I have a popsicle?" or "Excuse me Emma's mom, can we go to the park?"

At first I didn't really even notice it, I was so enamored with the fact that Emma was figuring out the friends thing and branching out into her own relationships. She was effectively navigating her social sphere. (As much as small children have a social sphere)

Then I noticed that I hadn't heard my own name in so long that I didn't turn when it was spoken. I shifted from enamored to annoyed. So we started working on addressing adults properly, for example it was no longer "Kaela's mom", Emma was required to say "Miss Karrie" (good southern manners you know). Problem solved.

Except that now I realize that I kind of miss being called "Emma's mom" by all of our little friends. I miss play dates where I was invited too. I miss children who are not biologically mine calling me mom- because we were communal moms, known only by our greatest calling. A kiss on an owie from whichever mom was closest was repair enough. They were ours and we were theirs, genetics aside. That was the era when I was "Emma's mom" and it was rich and full and good. And I miss it. More than I ever realized I would.

sidewalk chalk

Summer at our house means playing night games and staying up a little later than normal.
Sidewalk chalk is a favorite around here- see why?

Sidewalk chalk is well loved around here. Even the big kids from the neighborhood come and play- that may have a little to do with the fact that we also let them drive the go-cart.

Shelby took her show out into the street

E.J.'s stick figures were getting dropped down a "flush hole" as Em calls it

And my slightly morbid brother (geinus brother) drew a dead stick figure- he fell and cracked his head open on my front steps.

Summer- thank you for all of your glory