I always taught my own kids—and later, my students—NOT to write on their hands, that’s why I didn’t believe this at first . . .
I thought, it must be a hoax, but then . . .
Kids . . . please DON”T take a lesson from Ms. Palin, here!
Check out the Washington Post story at: http://voices.washingtonpost.com/44/2010/02/sarah-palins-palm-cheat-sheet.html?hpid=topnews
What’s your take on this elementary behavior?
I just had to chuckle out loud when a good friend and former colleague (who recently moved to the UK) left this description of me on Facebook:
Check out this mamma pig with her 10 baby piglets who are all maneuvering for Mom’s attention. . . and nourishment. (We saw them at the Durham Fair yesterday and were just mezmorized!)
Do you think she ever just wants to call a babysitter–or pigletsitter?
One of my all-time favorite bloggers, Chile, got me thinking with her “Half Empty or Half Full?” post.
I’ve always seen my glass as “half full,” I think, and a couple of recent events really convinced me of this. I think I’m a pretty positive person, at least that what everyone tells me . . .
A couple of weeks ago, I was involved in a very minor head-on accident. (Minor and head-on are oxymorons, don’t they?) Anyway, an elderly woman hit me as we were both pulling out of driveways across from each other, onto a very busy state road. I saw her coming into my lane and I braked and she was just crawling, so we really barely hit. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I had just popped the top down on my convertible that my family had given me for Mother’s Day. All I could think of was my little ‘stang would be crushed and my wonderful family’s feelings would be crushed, too. I certainly didn’t want to be the first one to put a dent or ding in it.
I got out to see how the other woman was. Neither of us was hurt, physically, thankfully. We both just shook our heads, so sorry that it had happened. I encouraged her to pull into our farm market driveway (that’s where it happened) and I called our local police, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Since it wasn’t an emergency, we must have waited 20 minutes or so. In that time, we chatted and she said that she used to sell bread to my mother-in-law at our farm market and what respect she always had for farmers. We then talked about organic gardening, insurance rates, and how she was afraid her rates might go up or she might lose her license. She was really a very nice woman.
What really surpised me was that the damage to my little red ride was very minimal, perhaps nonexistent. How is that possible with a head-on collision? When the cop finally arrived, he asked, “Where is the damage to your car? Do you really want me to fill out a police report?”
Wow! There really wasn’t any visible damage. Then, the young cop (young enough to be my son) told me what a nice car I have . . .and if I ever got tired of driving it . . .
Back to the 1/2 full . . . I was a little “gun shy” the next few days when I was pulling out, always looking left, right, and straight ahead, a few extra times . . . and all I could feel was thankful. I took this minor accident as a wake-up call. It could have been a lot worse and I really should pay more attention to the job at hand when driving instead of thinking of all the things I have on my “to-do” list.
I felt so lucky that this woman and I were both fine, really no damage to our vehicles, and we both had another chance to be more careful next time. Some people don’t get a second chance.
OK, there’s something else too, but this is really gross . . . I don’t think I’ll post a picture just yet. I had to go through a very ugly procedure recently to take care of pre-cancerous cells on my forehead. It was actually a chemotherapy cream that BURNS your skin–all layers—and then forms these VERY UGLY scabs that take forever to fall off before the new skin forms. All I could think was THANK GOODNESS for bangs (which I had cut to hide the ugliness, because I felt like a leper!) . . . and now thank goodness for the new, baby-like skin which I have now. . . and that I have a second chance to take care of it, to be smart enough to wear sunscreen and cover up, so it won’t get worse! (More on that later. . . as I do have pix, that my own kids are threatening to break out when they see me in the sun again!)
I was also concerned about scaring the children at school because I really did look like a leper. My doctor said I should use it as a Science lesson, but I really didn’t want 8- and 9-year olds to think their teacher was dying or something, so I hid it the best I could. A colleague suggested I should make up a good story to explain the scabs to the kids. I really wasn’t into story telling until this happened . . .
8-yr-old girl, looking at me, kind of strange. (I realized my bangs must have opened to reveal the crusty scabs on my forehead.)
Me: “Oh, don’t let that distract you. Just a little snowboarding accident.”
Girl: “How OLD are you?”
Me: “Old enough to know better. I should have been skiing instead of snowboarding. I’m a much better skiier!”
And that was that . . .
OK, so I’m pretty much a “half-full” kind of person, but what about you?
IS YOUR GLASS HALF-EMPTY OR HALF-FULL????
OK, this may be lacking in taste (just a little!), but it did get a laugh, didn’t it?
Anyways,
HAPPY EASTER TO ALL WHO ARE CELEBRATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let’s hope for some sunshine!!!
Earlier this week, here’s an excerpt from a conversation at school . . .
Cute little, precocious, second-grade girl, bundled up in a white fur coat on her way out to recess: Mrs. R _ _ _, why are you wearing “Barbie Doll shoes” in winter?
Me (holding back laughter): Well, spring officially begins on Friday, but my feet have decided it’s spring already!
You never know what’s going to come out of the mouths of children; that’s why I love spending my days with them. Yes, I had treated myself to a pedicure in anticipation of spring and was wearing these sandals, which forever in my mind will now be my “Barbie doll shoes.” (The real reason I purchased them?—-because I knew they would be comfortable for my w-i-d-e feet. I just love “thongs!”—on my feet, that is!
Perhaps I should have said that I was celebrating Barbie’s 50 birthday as well? Fortunately, that glamorous girl has changed a little bit over the years, especially in widening of career options and a tiny bit more reasonable body measurements!
I did own that very first Barbie myself, and I think my daughter had just about everyone after that!
Happy 50th Barbie . . . you go, girl! And happy Spring and sandal weather to you all!
Here’s a little Valentine meme I stole from the Farmer’s Daughter. Actually, she encouraged me to do it. If you want to try it, too, by all means, “steal” it from me!
My Valentine and Me
What are your middle names?
My given middle name is Susan after my grandmother on my Mom’s side, but I changed it to my maiden name when we got married. My DH’s middle name is David, after his Dad, also a family name from generations way back. By the way, I was delighted to change my last name when we got married: much prettier and easier for everyone to spell!
How long have you been together?
Wow, married 31 years, together for 34 in all, but it seems like just yesterday . . .
How long did you know each other before you started dating?
We first met when my uncle took me on a fishing trip to my future husband’s farm when we were about 12. All I remember is that this cute guy baited my hook because I thought it was gross and his Mom made great cupcakes. He remembers my floppy red hat. We both attended the wedding of that same uncle’s daughter in our pre-teen years, as the two families were mutual friends. But, we really noticed each other when we met again at the same uncle’s pool during our high school years. My valentine remembers a white bikini I wore (that my Mom had made!) and I remember him coming straight from football practice . . . I guess it was destiny . . . it just took a few times meeting!
Who asked whom out?
He definitely asked me out. I had a line of babysitting jobs and actually said no the first three times. No one had EVER said no to him before, so I guess I was playing hard to get. My mom finally covered for me on a babysitting job, so I could go out!
How old are each of you?
Old enough to know better . . . and old enough that 2 of our 3 children are of legal age!!!
Whose siblings do you see the most?
He sees his most, just about every day at work . . . family business. I don’t see his–or mine–nearly enough, due to work commitments and distance.
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple?
Demands on our time . . . making time for each other!
Did you go to the same school?
Nope. We went to different high schools, and if we had EVER gone to the same school, we would NEVER had hooked up. He was a jock; I was a nerd . . . oh, and did I say I was in the band? And, yes, I’m still in college as well as working full-time, going for a 4th degree, so I guess I’m still a nerd. . . and I believe opposites DO definitely attract!
Are you from the same home town?
Nope, we’re from neighboring towns, though. Now, I actually live in my husband’s family’s town, which is the town MY mother grew up in!
Who is smarter?
I will NOT answer this question on the grounds that it may/will incriminate me! He’s definitely more common-sense smart, though! We’re both smart in different ways, in different things . . . again that “opposite” thing!
Who is the most sensitive?
Me, hands down. I’ll cry at the drop of a hat . . . or when a sad country song is on the radio . . . or an upsetting news story . . . or a happy memory . . . or a touching moment . . . or pretty much any good movie! Although I’ve noticed, he’s growing more sensitive with age . . . or is it living with me?
Where do you eat out most as a couple?
Wherever the kids decide that they want us to take them for their birthday dinners!
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple?
To the wilds of Katmai, Alaska, to walk with the Alaska Brown Bears (his dream); and to the tropical islands of Jamaica, Nassau, and Bimini (my dream!)
Who has the worst temper?
Again, can’t answer this one on the grounds that it may incriminate me, but it’s definitely NOT me! I’m always the one who gives in!
Who does the cooking?
Me. Although our kids tell me it doesn’t really count as cooking if you don’t use more than three ingredients. He does make a mean cheesecake and baked Alaska, though. . . that is, he made each one exactly once in 34 years.
Who is the neat-freak?
Neither one of us and it would probably be a good think if ONE of us were . . .
Who is more stubborn?
Again, I plead the 5th, but I’ll give you a hint . . . it’s the taller one of us!
Who hogs the bed?
The one who’s 6’4″. I just take up less space. The “hogs” used to be our kids and the dogs, but now they finally have their own beds.
Who wakes up earlier?
Me. I’ve gotten into the habit of starting my day at 3 or 3:30 am. I just naturally wake up then. It’s getting harder to stay awake at night, though!
Where was your first date? The Durham Fair–an agricultural fair in a neighboring town. Actually, my future DH went to ask my father’s permission first, who was in the barn milking cows at the time!
How long did it take to get serious?
Once we actually went out on that first date, not long at all! I think my Mom liked him as immediately as I did!
Who eats more?
I cook for three BIG guys with football-player appetites most of the time. They like meat; I don’t. You guess!
Who does the laundry?
I totally spoiled my family when I was a stay-at-home Mom with our three children, doing ALL of the household duties. Even though I’m working full-time now, the division of duties really hasn’t changed. We’re just each better at some things, like I could NEVER EVER mow the law, weedwack, and chop wood as GOOD as him, plow snow, so who’s complaining?
Who’s better with the computer?
Let’s just say that he fully expects he can go through life as what he terms “computer-illiterate” and I’m blogging . . .
Who drives when you are together?
He does. It’s just easier . . . I get to catch up on sleep!
What’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said to you? (I just added this one because I have a great answer!)
Just a couple of days ago, he said, “You’re my heartbeat!” Awwww……I just melted!
Include a wedding picture or a picture from your early dating days!
We are both not recognizable from those early days, so here’s a more recent one. Notice the bear in the background? My Valentine keeps life exciting for me!!!
PLEASE feel free to answer these questions in the comment section or post on your own blog—and leave a link so we can read it!
OK, am I the only one out there who finds this offensive–I mean, in my face, at work?
I may be old enough to have grown children, but I’m definitely NOT a prude!
But, would you agree, unless you work somewhere that involves a pole for dancing, that this amount of cleavage is NOT appropriate for your line of work?
I work in a school system and I see a fair amount of skimpy, midriff-baring, cleavage-peaking blouses just about daily. . . and it’s not just the young, perky teachers and staff! Sometimes, it’s my contemporaries, and as my own children tell me when they’re hanging aroud our pool in the summertime, “Really, Mom, nobody wants to see that. . . put them away!”
What gets me in schools is, who exactly are these women dressing this way for? Colleagues don’t want to see this—and parents definitely DON’T want to see this, either! And, please, let’s protect the innocent children.
If anything, I find myself inspecting my necklines and questioning if I should add a T-shirt under tops and dresses, just so I don’t insult or embarrass anyone. On the other hand, if I’m going out for an evening and I’m not likely to run into any of my students–or their parents–that’s another story!
On another, related note . . .
Here’s a funny greeting card that I just couldn’t resist buying the other day. I’ll probably give it to my good friend, Pat, on her next birthday:
Two fifty- or sixty-something-year-old women friends at the beach in bathingsuits (not that we’re THAT old!):
Friend A (I’ll call her Patty): “The bad news about getting older is that we get flabby thighs.”
Friend B (Could be me!): “The good news is that our boobs cover them!”
Inside message: “Hope you’ve got a happy birthday covered!”
OK, there’s your laugh for the day . . . but if there’s something that you just have to get off your chest about all the cleavage out there, let ‘er rip . . . and leave a comment!
OK, did I get your attention?
Actually, after reading a hillarious poem about breastfeeding (written in Dr. Seuss form) over at Green Mamma, I just had to add my two cents.
I have been a long-time proponent of breastfeeding, and having spent an estimated ten years nursing our three children, I might also be considered somewhat of an “expert.”
We all know that “breast-fed” is “best-fed” if that works out for mother and baby. To be able to nourish a baby, both physically (adding immunities/antibodies, helping protect from allergies) as well as emotionally, was just paramount to being a mother to be. I wouldn’t have traded one minute of nursing (“num-nums” as my daughter called it) for anything, ever.
My husband and I were both raised on dairy farms, so what would you expect? Nursing is the natural thing to do! It’s just that our holstein cows were blessed with twice the number of “milking appartus” than humans! Plus, now that we have grown sons who stand at 6’3″ and 6’5″, my husband frequently jokes that it’s due to the best start in life–mother’s milk!
If you want a good laugh, here’s the “Nursing Poem”—thanks to Jessica at Green Mamma for sharing!
Seuss for Nursing Mommies
Would you nurse her at the park?
Would you nurse him in the dark?
Would you nurse him with a boppy?
I would nurse her in the park.
I would nurse him in the dark.
I’d nurse with or without a boppy.
Floppy boobs will never stop me.
Can you nurse with your seat belt on?
Can you nurse from dusk til dawn?
Though she may pinch me, bite me, pull,
I will nurse her til she’s full.
Can you nurse and make some soup?
Can you nurse and feed the group?
It makes her healthy strong and smart,
Mommy’s milk is the best start!
Would you nurse him at the game?
Would you nurse her in the rain?
In front of those who dare complain?
I would nurse him at the game.
I would nurse her in the rain.
As for those who protest lactation,
I have a perfect explanation.
Mommy milk is tailor made
It’s perfect food, you need no aid.
Some may scoff and some may wriggle,
Avert their eyes or even giggle.
To those who can be cruel and rude,
Remind them breast’s the perfect food.
I would never scoff or giggle,
Roll my eyes or even wiggle!
I would never be so crass or crude,
I KNOW that this milk’s the perfect food!
We make the right amount we need,
The perfect temp for every feed.
There’s no compare to milk from breast-
The perfect food, above the rest.
Those nursing smiles are oh so sweet,
Mommy milk is such a treat.
Human milk just can’t be beat.
I will nurse, in any case,
On the street or in your face.
I will not let my baby cry,
I’ll meet her needs, I’ll always try.
It’s not about what’s good for you,
It’s best for babies, through and through.
I will nurse her in my home,
I will nurse her when I roam.
Leave me be lads, leave me be ma’am
I will nurse her, MOM I am.
I guess I would have to answer YES to all of those questions. Although there’s been a lot of controversy lately regarding nursing in public, the good news is that you CAN do this very discretely. Also, if you’re nursing an older child more for comfort than nutrition (like at naptime or bedtime, for instance), this doesn’t have to take place in public.
There does seem to be a fascination with women’s breasts, in general, in our society, as we all know. When I read the line, “And when your boobs are feeling floppy?” I couldn’t help but be reminded of another hilarious song I heard recently on Toby Keith’s “Beer for my Horses” CD. The song is actually sung by Rodney Carrington, who is a self-professed fan of boobs, both young and old, of all shapes and sizes, saying “there’s no such thing as a bad boob.”
Carrington sings in “Show Them to Me:”
“Even if you’re really old, there’s nothing wrong,
Don’t be sad, your boobs ain’t bad,
They’re just a little long. . .
I’ve met a lot of them, but never one I’ve hated,
Even if you’ve had 13 kids and you think they look deflated,
There’s no such thing as a bad breast . . . “
OK, I’m not so sure about the “long” part, but I’m figuring it could be a combination of nursing, gravity, and time (notice I didn’t say age!) but I’m so glad boobs have a real biological purpose and whatever it takes, it’s worth it!
What’s your take on boobs/breastfeeding?
OK, I’ve been tagged by the Farmer’s Daughter.
Here are the rules:
–Link to your tagger and list these rules on your blog.
–Share 7 facts about yourself on your blog – some random, some weird.
–Tag 7 people at the end of your post by leaving their names as well as links to their blog.
–Let them know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
So, here goes, probably way more than you want to know:
7 Facts about myself:
OK, that’s probably way more than you wanted to hear, but I’m tagging:
Aisling at The Quiet Country House
Nan at Letters From a Hill Farm
Ernestine at My Journey to Mindfulness
Thanks for playing, everyone, and I hope you have a little fun with it!
~~Ruth
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What Flower
Are You?
Musings of an everyday woman . . . 
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