Dinner Traditions

My parents are coming to visit us next week. This will be their first time seeing our new house here in Florida. I'm looking forward to visiting with them and showing them all our new favorite spots to eat, shop, walk around, hang out, swim, etc. I'm sure the kids are going to want to show them their new schools and where all the ice cream places are. So, this week, I'm in "Keep the Freaking House Clean" mode. I'm also trying to figure out what to make for dinner while they're here.

I figure we'll just order pizza (or what passes for pizza down here) one night while they're here. Growing up, we always had pizza on Sunday nights. That was the one night my mom would let us watch TV at the dinner table (Wonderful World of Disney, of course.) As a kid though, I was always jealous of my friends who went to their grandparents' house for Sunday dinner. It was a traditional, weekly event for many of my friends. My own grandparents lived out-of-state, however. When I grew up and had kids of my own, I thought my own parents might incorporate a weekly, or even monthly, gathering for dinner, but they never did. I hope to host Sunday dinners at my house when my kids are grown and have kids of their own.

But back to my parents' visit. I think we'll cook out and eat our meals on the lanai so my parents can enjoy the gorgeous weather down here before heading back to the cold. That has become a new tradition for my family - eating outside. We do it several times a week. The weather is just too beautiful to stay inside.

What kinds of dinnertime traditions does your family have? Check out this family's cool, fun tradition of "Theme Dining" for some fun ideas! And while you're there, share your own stories and ideas on the Fresh Takes on Family Time site. Every time you share, you'll be entered to win a $50 gift card from Subway. And, more than that, you could be the next lucky family chosen to have their story filmed and featured on their site! One new family is chosen every month! Check it out here!

Pterodactyl

Savannah came home from school and said, "Let's play Pterodactyl!"

"Pterodactyl? That's a game? Seriously? How do you play?" I inquired, one eyebrow raised, wondering where she was going to go with this.

"You just take turns going around the circle. Everyone has to say pterodactyl, but you have to keep your lips over your teeth like this," she demonstrated. "If someone squawks instead of saying pterodactyl, the direction reverses. If you laugh, you lose."

Well, that sounded simple enough. How hard could it be to keep a straight face when all you're doing is saying pterodactyl?

It's VERY stinkin' hard!

What a Dirty, Disgusting River. It's Chocolate!

I should be used to getting up early. I mean, I’ve been doing it for nearly two months now. That’s plenty of time to adjust, right? One would think. But still, I’m exhausted to the point of passing out nearly every night. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve awakened on the couch in the middle of the night, still dressed, makeup smeared across my face, hair plastered to my cheek with drool. I know, I know, I’m totally hot. And every morning, I perform my ritual of blindly flailing my arm around in an attempt to either hit the snooze button, knock the clock off the table, or stop time altogether.

Last night, after helping my kids with their homework, we ate the dinner I cooked, then, I told my kids, “I need you guys to clean up the kitchen because I have work to do.” I took my laptop and retired to my room where I could work in peace. At some point, before finishing, I passed out asleep without even checking on my kids to make sure they’d done what they were told. Big mistake. Big. Huge.

This morning, after playing the snooze game for half an hour, I got a text from Savannah who had just walked out to the bus with Austin. “So, you might be disgusted when you go downstairs.”

I weighed my options. I could simply stay in bed and never set foot downstairs. Yes, that’s my plan! I’ll stay in bed, I decided! Then I remembered I’d have to call the school and let them know I wouldn’t be in today. How would that phone call go over? “Um hi, this is Dawn Meehan. I can’t make it in to work today. What? My kids? Oh no, they’re fine. No, I’m not sick. Oh, well you see, my daughter warned me that I’d be disgusted if I went downstairs so I’m simply avoiding the whole situation. What’s that? Don’t bother coming in tomorrow or the next day either? I’m fired?”

Dreading her response, but firmly believing in being prepared, I texted back, “Why?”

“First of all, the dishes are still out and there are bugs all over them. Someone spilled cocoa powder in the pantry and tried to clean it up by sweeping it all the way to the front door and putting it under the rug so there’s this trail of it still. Annnnnnd, the garage door was open all night.”

That’s all? I thought. I can handle dirty dishes sitting out all night. It wouldn’t be the first time. Although I like things cleaned up before I go to bed, now and then I leave the mess and clean it before I leave for work or give my kids instructions to clean up when they get home from school. I figured Savannah had probably just seen a stray BOUS (bug of unusual size). As far as the cocoa powder, I figured I could sweep that up in an instant.

And then I walked downstairs.

Jackson had spilled the entire, brand-new container of cocoa powder in the pantry. Instead of wiping it up right there, he, with his brilliant thirteen-year-old brain, figured it would be easier to sweep it under the rug. Literally. Never mind that the rug was through the kitchen, down the hall and across the entryway by the front door. And did he use a broom for this endeavor? Nope, that wouldn’t be nearly messy enough. Instead, he used the Swiffer Wet Jet. Here’s a riddle for you. What smells like brownies and floor cleaner? The Willy Wonka style chocolate river o’ sludge that runs through my house!

Then I walked in to the kitchen and saw the mounds of dirty dishes on the table, the island, the countertops, the stove. The crockpot had a couple pieces of chicken floating in a sea of congealed sauce. And ants were crawling over much of it.

You know that scene in The Exorcist where Linda Blair’s head spins around? That was me after I got ahold of myself and calmed down.

I quickly left the kitchen before I completely lost it. Lexi immediately started unloading the dishwasher and cleaning up. I started scrubbing the chocolate-flavored grout between the tiles of my floor. I did that for about ten minutes. You may be wondering why I didn’t wake up Jackson and demand he start cleaning immediately. I needed some time to calm down, and taking my rage out on the discolored grout seemed like a good way to do it. Before I left for work, however, I gave very specific instructions to each and every one of my kids that there was not to be a single dirty dish sitting out or the merest hint of chocolate dust on the floor when I got home from work or they would all be sleeping out on the lanai with the lizards, frogs, turtles, cockroaches, alligators, snakes, and other creatures that would eat them in their sleep. What? My story was no worse than Hansel and Gretel or Little Red Riding Hood!

When I got home this evening, I discovered that Austin had locked Jackson outside and was cleaning the cocoa powder mess himself. When I asked him why he didn’t just make Jackson do it, he said, “Yeah right. If I’d let Jackson inside, he would’ve made a hundred more messes and there would still be chocolatey floors and knowing him, he’d probably smear it on the walls and carpet too somehow!”

“Good point! I mean, don’t lock your brother outside.” Still, little tendrils of anger, nay disappointment, continued to wrap themselves around me, so when the kids asked, “What’s for dinner?” I replied, “Whatever you make because I’m not cooking for you guys if you aren’t going to do your part and help clean up when I ask. You can make sandwiches or have bowls of cereal or soup or whatever you want to make. Whatever you get out and mess up, you WILL clean up, however. They put their heads together and decided on making chicken nuggets because then they’d only have one cookie sheet to clean. After their chicken nuggets, they were still hungry, so they made ham and cheese omelets and toast. And you know what? They cleaned up every last crumb. (I think the Linda Blair thing scared them straight. Nothing like seeing mom’s head spin around to make you shape up.)


And no, I didn’t take pictures this time. I was trying way too hard not to commit homicide to take pictures of the mess.

A Fresh Take on Trick-or-Treating

Over at Subway's Fresh Takes on Family Time site, they've got some great articles with fun fall and Halloween ideas. One that caught my eye was an article named Trunk-or-Treat. It talked about getting your friends together, heading to an empty parking lot, opening your trunks, and letting the kids go from car to car, gathering candy from the tailgates. That idea is okay, but I'd go one step further. That is, I'd go a step further if I was back home in Chicago, surrounded by friends. But since I've recently moved across the country and have no friends, it would be kind of lame for me to try it here.

If I were back in Chicagoland, I'd invite everyone over to my driveway for a potluck. I'd get the fire pit going and roast hotdogs. All my friends and neighbors could enjoy the collection of salads and desserts from everyone. Back in Chicago, since it would undoubtedly be 40 degrees and rainy, we'd bundle up while the kids drank steaming mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows (you know, in case they hadn't ingested enough sugar from their candy). The adults would drink hot toddys or Irish coffee (because Halloween is traditionally known as a drinking holiday). We'd sit back and complain about the cold while we enjoyed each other's company and breathed in the scent of fall in the air - the leaves, the crackling fire, the brisk breeze, and the mist starting to roll in.

But since I'm here in Florida, I guess I'll take my kids around the neighborhood by myself while wearing shorts and sipping a frosty, refreshing pina colada. And I'll enjoy the palm trees and the sunshine and the fact that this year, I won't need to stuff handwarmers in my pockets, or figure out a way to cram winter coats under my kids' costumes.

Check out the Fresh Takes on Family Time site to add your own story! One lucky family will be chosen every month to have their story filmed and featured on the site! Plus, you'll be entered to win a $50 gift card from Subway! Check it out today!


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I Suck at my Job

I hate feeling stupid. Hate it. I hate feeling like I don’t know what I’m doing. I like being the person that others come to for advice. I like being the one who knows everything; the one others ask for help. I do not like having to ask anyone else for help. Yeah, yeah, it's good to let others help. It makes them feel good. Blah, blah, blah. Whatever. I still don't like it. And no, I don't have control issues. I just always need to be right. And in charge.

If someone was to ask me a parenting question on nearly any topic, I’d feel confident that I could give an intelligent and constructive answer. That’s an area of my life where I feel like I have some degree of expertise. I may not be perfect at it, but I know what I’m doing. At school, however? I feel like an idiot. I don’t understand the terms they use here. Everyone tosses them around like they’re common knowledge, yet my head spins because they might as well be speaking a foreign language, as far as I’m concerned.

I don't know all the procedures and protocol for doing things here. What do you do if you have a student who is tardy to your class seventeen times? I assumed the attendance people would catch that I was marking him tardy every day and would do something. I guess not. When I brought it up, I was looked at like I was stupid for letting a student get seventeen tardies without saying anything. Sheesh, now that I think about it, maybe I should continue to let the kids get tardies. I should encourage them to take their time getting to my class because it means less time spent here making me insane. Kidding. Just kidding.

But really, I’m not a teacher. I didn’t go to college to be a teacher. I didn’t go to college at all, in fact. I didn’t student teach. I haven’t been doing this for years. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe I’m qualified for my position, but I lack experience and, unfortunately the only thing that can fix that is time.

I’m pretty sure all the eighth grade math teachers hate me. Yesterday, I alienated the eighth grade history teachers as well when I gave a student a copy of a vocabulary quiz with the answers filled in so he could study the words. In hindsight, that was a stupid move. Duh. I have no idea what I was thinking. Clearly, I wasn’t. I should only have gone over the words and never shown the student the test for him to simply memorize. The history teachers have every right to be upset. I was stupid. I hate being stupid.

When I (half) joke about quitting, some teachers nod their heads and commiserate, saying, “I don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t take working with those kids every period, every day.” But, honestly, it’s not even the kids who make me want to quit. They’re not the problem. They are who they are. They do what they do. I try to keep them on track, help them develop organizational skills, encourage them to be responsible. Sometimes it sinks in; sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes they respond and surprise me; sometimes they don't. It’s more like being a mom to thirty kids than a teacher. I’m fine with that. Yes, it gets discouraging at times. But other times, it’s pretty darn rewarding.

Nope, it’s not the kids. It’s me. I feel like I suck at this job and I don’t enjoy doing things that make me feel all suckish. Sigh.

(Don't worry, it's not all doom and gloom. Come back tomorrow for a fun-filled poop extravaganza courtesy of Clayton. Ugh, he's gonna get us kicked out of our neighborhood.)

Comments from the Peanut Gallery

I love getting comments on my blog posts. I get giddy with excitement when someone takes the time to write to me. Of course, I especially like it when someone finds something I've written humorous, useful, or comforting. I love it when someone tells me that they appreciate the levity or the glimpse into my life because it helps them to see their own life in a different, more positive light. But as much as I love all those comments, I think I particularly like these inane comments the best . . .

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If you're going to leave me spam comments, asking me to check out your online pharmacy for discount Viagra, at least have the sense to learn English or hire a translator. Really, is that too much to ask? I unequivocally thanking you so very many.

The Big Book of Poop

When you first have a baby, you spend hours gazing into his/her little face, dreaming about the person they will become. Will they have your way with words? Their dad’s height? Their grandma’s musical ability? Their uncle’s artistic talent? Imagine my pride when I got home from work the other day and saw on the kitchen table, a book written by my own son. Clay had not only written, but had also illustrated his very own book. Yes, I thought, my son is following in my footsteps! He’s going to be an author! Sure, he’s only seven years old now, but he’s undoubtedly destined for greatness! And then I actually looked at the book. Yeah. Let’s just say that I hope Clay has a “Plan B” for future employment.
CONTINUE READING HERE!

When you first have a baby, you spend hours gazing into his/her little face, dreaming about the person they will become. Will they have your way with words? Their dad’s height? Their grandma’s musical ability? Their uncle’s artistic talent? Imagine my pride when I got home from work the other day and saw on the kitchen table, a book written by my own son. Clay had not only written, but had also illustrated his very own book. Yes, I thought, my son is following in my footsteps! He’s going to be an author! Sure, he’s only seven years old now, but he’s undoubtedly destined for greatness! And then I actually looked at the book. Yeah. Let’s just say that I hope Clay has a “Plan B” for future employment.



Here’s a sneak peek at Clay’s masterpiece. I may have to take orders for this book as I’m sure you’re all going to want your own copies for your coffee tables.

Poop

A favorite word for seven year old boys everywhere.

Butt

It's like a Dr. Seuss book. Splat butt poop, it looks like soup.

Sinker

This is what happens when you don't get enough fiber.

Floater

I love how he identified and labeled the undigested corn. Classy.

Splat

I think this is what happens when you eat half a dozen Fiber One bars at once.

When Zombies Attack

Austin’s English teacher had the kids write letters to their parents, inviting them to the school’s open house next week. The students were told to bring the letters home, get them signed by a parent, and return them to school. Austin thought that I’d be the only one reading the letter. He figured the teacher would glance at it to make sure it had been signed, and then he’d get the credit for it. He didn’t realize the teacher was going to read the letter before he got to take it home and give it to me. Yeah. This is what he wrote.

Dear Mom,

My teacher would like for me to write a letter to you saying you should go to the PTSA Open House on Tuesday, October 4th, 2011 at 6:00 at XXXXXXX High School. Note, you can’t come in 2004. We had to say it was 2011 to clear up any confusion. Also, remember this is 6:00p.m., not a.m., just in case you were wondering.

She says it’s a “good chance” for you to meet all of my teachers, and become familiar with this “school” and see what or who I have to deal with every, single day. It’s not a conference, but I don’t know if I believe that. They could be zombies trying to lure you into a trap. I don’t trust them. She says “some” teachers “might” give extra credit, but again, they might be zombies. She insists on you RSVPing by emailing her at XXXXXXXXX@ocps.net so she knows how many people to invite for brain feasting.

Sincerely,
Austin Meehan



That’s my son. I’m not sure how to respond to this. I keep thinking of responses, but I don’t know which I should use.

A. I’ll be attending. Dawn Meehan

B. I’ll be there, but I’m wearing my helmet. You know, just in case. Dawn Meehan


C. Dear Ms. Teacher, I’m sorry you have to deal with Austin in your class this year. I’m just so sorry. So so sorry, Dawn Meehan

Leave the Lipstick at the Door

I read an article on MSNBC today about how a school in England has banned the use of makeup for their 13 – 16 year old students.  Not only have they made it against school rules for girls to wear makeup, but they’ve also removed the mirrors in the bathrooms to prevent vanity.  Maybe they think that if they remove the mirrors, the girls won’t realize how they look without makeup.  According to the article, John McNally, head teacher, says, “The mirror ban is to break a cycle where social groups started to emerge in the bathroom.”  Oh my gosh, no, not social groups!  At a school?!  The horror! 

Apparently, some girls were spending so much time in front of the bathroom mirrors that they were eating lunch in there, so the school decided the mirrors must be removed.  Call me crazy, but wouldn’t it be more logical to simply keep the kids in the lunch room while they’re eating?

The article says that the school wants students to focus on more important things like learning.  Tell me, ladies, if you were banned from wearing makeup to school or work, would you be able to concentrate on learning or working more?  I personally would spend every minute of the day obsessing over how scary I look without makeup.  I guess school officials are checking each girls’ face every day for traces of makeup, and offering offenders makeup removal products.  That seems like a good use of time and resources.  If I had to check all my students for evidence of makeup, and then monitor them until they washed if off, I know I’d have plenty more time for those important things like learning.  NOT! 

I personally feel like kids should be able to express themselves.  They will have their whole lives in which to conform and try to fit in for the sake of their jobs and group affiliations.  Who cares if a teen has pink hair, a mohawk, black eyeliner, or a pierced lip?  Those things don’t distract from education as much as teachers having to take time out from their lesson plans to play dress code police.


So what do you think?  Should schools ban makeup?  “Extreme” hairstyles?  Should they insist on school uniforms?  How do you feel and why?

Easy Money

I was sick last week and, as much as I wanted to blog, I just couldn’t manage to stay awake long enough to compose a single sentence.  Every day, after getting home, helping my kids with their homework, making dinner, and getting my little ones to bed, I lay down, coughed up a lung, and passed out asleep.  I really needed the sleep.  I needed to take care of myself, but, at the same time, I stressed over the fact that I wasn’t writing.  No writing = no income.  But I’m happy to announce that I’ve now solved all my money problems!  My spam filter catches a couple dozen emails a day.  I generally just delete the whole bunch without a second glance, but today, for kicks, I decided to open one and read it.  This is what it said.

GREETINGS TO YOU, (whoever you are, you random person)

IT IS A PLEASURE TO INTRODUCE TO YOU A BUSINESS THAT WILL MAKE THE BEGINNING OF NEVER-ENDING FAMILY RELATIONSHIP AND I HOPE THIS PROPOSAL WILL NOT BE AN INCONVENIENCE OR EMBARRASSMENT TO YOU.  (It’s probably not the wisest idea to introduce a proposal with the disclaimer ‘I hope this won’t be an embarrassment to you.’  Oh, and while we’re at it, let me introduce you to the great art of punctuation.)

I AM ELIZABETH DAJU MORGAN I AM 20YEARS AND THE ONLY CHILD OF LATE DR DAJU ALFY MORGAN   WHO WAS A FAMOUS COCOA MERCHANT. (Does one need a doctorate to be a cocoa merchant?  And once again, you might want to consider using a period or a comma now and then.  Example:  Let’s eat grandma.  Let’s eat, grandma.  Punctuation:  it saves lives.)

MY LATE FATHER OPERATED HIS COCOA BUSINESS IN ABIDJAN-COTE D’IVOIRE UNDER PARTNERSHIP BUT UNFORTUNATELY HIS BUSINESS ASSOCIATES POISONED HIM IN ORDER TO CLAIM HIS WEALTH IN A COCKTAIL PARTY HELD IN HIS HONOUR AS THE DIRECTOR OF THE COMPANY. (Wait!  They poisoned him to claim his wealth in a cocktail party?  How does one acquire wealth in a cocktail party?  I’m so confused.)

WHEN HE WAS POISONED, HE WAS RUSHED TO THE HOSPITAL.  (Naturally.)

IT WAS IN THE HOSPITAL THAT HE SECRETLY DISCLOSED TO ME THE CAUSE OF THE SICKNESS AND ALSO THAT HE DEPOSITED THE SUM OF 16.8M DOLLARS (SIXTEEN MILLION EIGHT HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS). (Oh good.  Thank you for spelling that out.  I wasn’t sure what 16.8M dollars.  And let me get this straight, he told you he’d been poisoned?  If he knew his buddies were poisoning him, why did he take the poison?  He’s not a very smart guy for a doctor.)

 IN A SUSPENSE ACCOUNT TO A BANK HERE IN COTE D’IVOIRE AND THAT I WAS MADE THE NEXT OF KIN TO INHERIT THE MONEY IN HIS RECORD/FILE.
HE THEREFORE ADVISED ME TO LOOK FOR A RELIABLE, TRUST WORTHY AND GOD-FEARING PERSON WHO WILL ASSIST ME TO TRANSFER THIS FUNDS ABROAD STRICTLY FOR INVESTMENT PURPOSES.  (And you immediately thought, ‘Hey, I’ll email some random stranger about this!’  Whenever I need someone trustworthy to help me with a multi-million dollar deal, I generally just do eenie meanie minie mo in the phone book, but the next time I’ll try random email addresses.) 

THIS IS BECAUSE HE DIDN’T WANT HIS ASSOCIATES TO RAISE AN EYEBROW ON HIS FUND. HE ALSO ADVISED US TO AVOID HIS ASSOCIATES WHO WILL BE RUNNING AFTER MY DEAR LIFE; HE FINALLY DIED IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER TWO DAYS OF ADMISSION.  (Good attempt at using a semi-colon, but maybe you should start off with something a little easier.  I really feel compelled to help you now that you mentioned his associates will be running after your dear life.)

I AM SOLICITING FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE TO TRANSFER THE $16.8M INTO YOUR ACCOUNT FOR AN INVESTMENT PURPOSES OVER THERE IN YOUR COUNTRY. I HOPE TO TRAVEL WITH YOU TO YOUR COUNTRY AFTER A SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER OF THIS FUND.  (You want to travel with me to my {insert name of country here}?  How are we going to travel together to my country when I’m already in my country?  Oh I know!  I’ll fly to Africa and then we can meet up and fly back to the U.S. together!  It’s a date!)
THE CONTACT OF THE BANK WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU AS SOON AS YOU SHOW YOUR INTEREST AND WILLINGNESS TO ME.  (I’m interested!  I’m willing!  I mean, it’s a win/win situation, right?  Free money for me!)
YOU CAN NOW INSTRUCT THEM ON WHERE AND HOW THE MONEY WILL BE TRANSFERRED.
I AM OFFERING YOU 10% OF THE TOTAL SUM OF DOLLARS $16.800.000 AS COMMISSION FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE TO THE TRANSFER OF THIS FUND INTO YOUR COUNTRY.  (Make it 80/20 and you got yourself a deal!)

MAY I STRONGLY RE-EMPHASIZE THAT THIS TRANSACTION IS HIGHLY CONFIDENTIAL, HITCH FREE AND THIS WILL BE SUCCESSFULLY CONCLUDED WITHIN 10 DAYS ACCORDING TO YOUR EFFORTS.  (Oh yeah, hitch-free!  I’m confident this isn’t a scam.  In ten days, I’ll be the proud recipient of 1,680,000!  Then I won’t have to stress out when I’m too tired or sick to blog.  Hallelujah!) 
THANKS FOR YOUR ANTICIPATED CO-OPERATION.
YOURS SINCERELY,
ELIZABETH DAJU MORGAN.

(Is this where I write my name, address, social security number, and bank information?)

Sunday Sound Out

From Orlando, where it's still a thousand degrees in the shade, it's your host, the woman whose son brought a snake in the house to show her, and who lived to tell the tale, Dawn Damalas Meehan!

This past week kicked my butt. I was so tired every night, I just didn't have it in me to blog. Not to mention the fact that there's not much to blog about when the only thing you do is go to work, then come home, clean up, and go to bed. Although I suppose I could've blogged about the morning I dumped a whole cup of coffee in my shoe. I didn't really care about the squishiness of my shoe, but I really, really wanted that cup of coffee. I was ashamedly tempted to slurp it out of my clog. Instead, I just slipped my foot in there and hoped I'd get a little caffeine through osmosis.

Anyway, here are the answers to this week's questions.

Dawn, Do you realize that counting up A’s, B’s, C’s etc. is a “mathy” thing? So, you do do “math!” You added the positive and subtracted the negative.
Ugh, don't remind me. I've done more math in the last month than I ever did in my entire school career! The students in my class need help with math way more than any other subject. And my eyes still bleed every time I see a new type of problem.

So Dawn, After a day helping kids with homework, what does that job feel like at home? Have you learned any tricks to get the job done there too? Keep up the good work!
Oh my gosh, it's a piece of cake! I have a whole new perspective on helping my kids with their homework. Even if they struggle with something, they're still eager to try. Too many of my students don't try and don't seem to care at all which is frustrating.

That is so LoL funny!!!! Did you laugh when you read it? [Clay's note about pooping] I can’t wait to show my kids this post- I know my 8 yr old son will especially find this hilarious!!!
I laugh at most everything Clayton says and does. That kid cracks me up regularly. It's hard being strict with him when half the time, I'm trying to choke back a laugh.

I call it “doing research” when I creep on facebook pages!! :-)
Research... that's good. My kids know that I regularly creep on, er, um, research their pages. The deal is that they have to friend me if they want to have an account. Besides, creeping on my kids pages is a good way to keep up with the latest slang and teen stuff.

Ahahaha! You still take your kids shopping? Do they still try to sneak Pokemon cards into the cart?
I try to avoid it at all costs, but yeah, they're often with me. Sometimes they try to sneak chocolate or cookies into my cart, but really, why on earth would I remove those items?

So this is what I havein store?! My 4 year old told me that if I ever have a vampire up my butt (?!?!), I need to go poop him out.
Oh yes, that's classic advice, to be sure. I told Clay what your four-year-old said, expecting him to laugh, but instead, he looked thoughtful and after a beat, said, "I would just reach in and grab the vampire out. Then I'd let him bite me so I could be a poop vampire." Yeah. This is what I live with.

Just one question, if Austin and Savannah have to take the bus at the ungodly hour of 6:15 — how early do you all guys have to get up, even if you skip showering, brushing your teeth, combing your hair, coffee…?
I'm not sure what time Savannah gets up, but she generally wakes Austin up 5 minutes before they leave for the bus. I set my alarm for 6:00, but generally play Snoozopoly until 6:30 at which point I wake up the little kids and make some coffee. I bring my cup of wake-up juice in the shower with me because I'm an amazing multi-tasker like that. I always shave my legs because I have an unnatural obsession with it. Oh, except for the other day when I only shaved one leg because apparently I can't be trusted with such complex tasks so early in the morning. Then, after we're dressed and fed, we all hit the road around 7:30. I drop off my littles and head on in to work.

Do you know that in some pictures Savannah is such a look-alike to the crown princess of Sweden? (completely not-interesting comment, I know…)
Oh yes, they're the spitting image of each other.


Victoria, princess of Sweden with a crown on her head. (Image: AFP)


Savannah, ordinary girl in Orlando with a monkey on her head.

So have you gotten used to Savannah driving yet?
Does it count if I still put my foot through the floor and clutch the dashboard? If not, then yes, yes, I'm used to her driving.

Did you buy the [BFF] bracelets? and will Austin wear it?
Sure, he wears it right next to his "I love my mom" bracelet. All the kids at school are jealous of that one.

I can’t believe how much you and Savannah look alike in that picture. So cute!
So technically, this means I look like a princess too! ;)

The Best Way to Camp

Over the years, my family has done a lot of camping. We used to load up our camper and join our best friends for a weekend of roughing it several times each summer. I loved time spent with family and friends. There's something to be said for unplugging and just hanging out without any work, school, sports, activities, or deadlines getting in the way. However, as much as I loved the uninterrupted time with my family, I really hated the "roughing it" part. Who wants to sleep out in the wilderness with no air conditioning? Who wants to get mosquito bites on top of mosquito bites? Who wants to cook like a pioneer? Crazy people, that's who!

So, my family now does this kind of camping. I still get to relax in the air conditioning, microwave a snack, and watch TV, while my kids get to sleep in a tent. It's all good.

On the new Subway site, Fresh Takes on Family Time, there's a good article on the benefits of camping in your backyard. Check it out! And while you're there, click the "tell your story" tab on top to submit your own story of fresh takes on family time! You'll be entered to win a $50 gift card from Subway, PLUS, every month, one family will have their story made into a video which will be featured on the site! Fun!