I’ve mentioned before that I tend to pee the bed when I eat too much watermelon. But, ya know, I don’t REALLY pee the bed. I mean not, like, EVERY time I eat watermelon. I have to eat a fair amount of watermelon for there to be any bladder issues. I know what I can handle and I just limit my watermelon eating to a few bites. BUT! Cleatus has been working third shift and ITS SUMMER and there is all this watermelon in my refrigerator begging to be eaten. I totally peed the bed the other night. And I didn’t even care. And I might do it again tonight. I WILL NOT BE ASHAMED.

Tomorrow is my husband’s family reunion. I hate these things. HATE THEM. Tomorrow is also a Renaissance Fair that only happens once a year and is TOTALLY something Eeyore would FREAK OUT ABOUT. He LURVES all things knight and castle and medieval-y. So yeah. FREE PASS! But then I started feeling guilty because everyone else thinks I am HORRIBLE, JUST HORRIBLE! for making Cleatus skip the family reunion to go to a Renaissance Fair. Am I horrible? BECAUSE, REALLY. Family reunion with the in-laws. WHO ENJOYS THAT?

My history and language arts curriculum for next year arrived today. And now I’m all excited to start school again. What the hell? We’ve been on summer break for three fucking weeks. I NEED MORE TIME. I will not get excited about school. School is not cool. Amen.

Cleatus and I went to this MAJOR garage sale today. A public school teacher of 25 years was retiring and selling off all her stuff and her sister, who has homeschooled for 20 years or so, was also selling some of her stuff. It was the biggest, most bad-assed garage sale ever.

Cleatus and I were out in public and stuff today. And he kept getting all sneaky and looking to see if anyone was looking at us and then he would GRAB MY BOOB. “Ya think anyone’s looking?” and then BAM! HANDFUL OF BOOB. I felt like a teenager. Minus the perky part.

Grey’s Anatomy blah blah am addicted blah blah dreamt of McDreamy last night blah blah blah yes really blah blah blah might need medical intervention blah blah for real not just because I want McDreamy to operate blah blah blah must surgically remove Netflix from my life blah blah blah LOOOOOOOVE.

Normally I would use bullets for a post like this, but I thought y’all might be sick of the bullets, so I decided to TRICK YOU. (And then tell you about it. I’M SO HONEST!) Are you sick of the bullets?

Today was Crazy Hair Day at VBS. Look.

Baby Jesus wept with joy.

It seems as though my daughter reads my blog. Sure, she’s only three and she can’t figure out how to access the internet but OBVIOUSLY she reads this blog. When she read that I might accidentally stab her she got scared and decided to be all cute again.

See? Cute. 

Today I have heard such things as “Tell me I’m your girl, Mum!” and “Lemme kiss your cheek for you.” and “I will be your friend!”

Motherhood. It’s a fucking roller coaster ride.

In other news…oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have news. No wait! Maybe I do.

I like Eeyore, too!

I ordered a couple of computer programs (For free! Just had to pay shipping! Homeschooling is so cool! What’s not cool about homeschooling? I also ordered $600 worth of history and language arts programs for next year. Up next? Another $300 or $400 on math and science and other crap! And all of that is for ONE child! Homeschooling sucks ass!) for Eeyore and one of them was Mavis Beacon Teaches Typing. I got it all set up for him tonight and he started his first lesson. I’m proud to announce that he types 4 (FOUR!) WPM. FUTURE BLOGGER!

I might suck at typing, but I can blow some bad ass bubbles. 

 Eh, who cares if he can’t type for shit. He can play Jingle Bells on the piano and he makes a mean peanut butter and jelly sandwich and DAMN IT, he’s cute.

Let’s say that you homeschool your children and that the end of the school year is fast approaching. You need to start planning for next year and so you begin searching the internet for a suitable science program for your seven-almost-eight year old son who will be in the third grade come fall. You find one that you love.  You love it so much that if you could make babies with it you would. But then you realize that you have no idea which level of the program to order. Pre-Level 1 is for grades K-3, but it looks a little too easy. Level 1 is for grades 4-6, but it looks a little too hard. You debate and debate and debate and finally decide to order the harder one. After all, you DO have gorgeous, talented, GENIUS children. It should be a breeze.

After coming to your decision to order the more difficult science program (did I mention the program is CHEMISTRY followed by BIOLOGY followed by PHYSICS? All in one year?) you decide to go to bed.

While asleep you have a dream that you’ve decided to go back to high school. No, not college. High school. I don’t know why you have chosen to go to high school, maybe you are dumb. It really doesn’t matter why, what matters is that you are back in high school. Oh, did I mention that it’s report card day and your mother has accompanied you to school so that she can see your grades? Yes, yes. You are still an adult and you still have children of your own, but your mother has chosen to go to school with you so that she can see your report card. The report cards are passed out and your mother tries to grab it from you to see what your grades are, but you beg her to let you look first. You slowly open the envelope and pull out it out.

Math, Science, English, and History are all listed. Across from them? F, F, F, F. You have gotten straight F’s. You suck and your mom is gonna be so pissed.

When you wake up you realize that probably you are just a leetle bit stressed out about having to teach chemistry, biology, and physics to your child. You take some nice deep breaths to calm yourself down, but it doesn’t work. Because YOU ARE SCARED OF TEACHING THIRD GRADE YOU DUMB ASS. Seriously, what is wrong with you?

Gawd, you are dumb.

And hey, did anyone mention that it just gets harder from here? Because IT GETS HARDER FROM HERE. Next comes fourth grade, then fifth and before you know it you are teaching your 13 year old how to perform brain surgery on his father using tweezers and a butter knife. Or maybe just helping him disect a frog, I DON’T KNOW.

My point is this: Maybe this 2nd grade shit was easy-peasy, but it ain’t gonna be that way for long.

So, the gout. I still don’t know what it is. I was supposed to go in for an x-ray yesterday, but Cleatus has been working such long hours that he didn’t get home until after the office closed. And, I don’t know about you, but I do not think that taking my children with me would be fun. I mean, they couldn’t come in the x-ray room with me, so they’d be sitting in a waiting room all alone? Um, no. I doubt that I’ll be able to go today either because I have some errands to run this afternoon. Maybe tomorrow? Hopefully.

My hand isn’t hurting anymore though, so I’m not really freaking out about it. The bump is still there, but I can deal with a bump. As long as it continues not hurting then I’ll be fine. I do plan on getting the x-ray sometime this week though if my damn husband ever gets out of work on time.

****

In other news, today is my mama’s birthday. I just baked her a cake and now Cindy-Lu and Eeyore are both standing in the kitchen next to the cake with drool dripping from their mouths. I tried to tell them that it would be impolite to eat a piece before we take it to “Banny’s” house tonight. (She used to be called Granny by Eeyore, but Cindy-Lu came along and couldn’t pronounce her G’s for shit, so now its Banny.)  I don’t think they care about manners at this point though. I can’t say that I blame them…it IS chocolate.

Make me happy and tell my mama happy birthday.

****

Oh, and anyone out there know what the difference between a vowel digraph and a vowel pair is? Because, apparently, I am too dumb for second grade phonics. I did find a super cool language arts program for next year, though. It is all computer based so his teacher for LA? Will not be me. Which is kinda dumb, because LA has always been my favorite subject, but seriously WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A DIGRAPH AND A PAIR? I can not figure this out. Its like my brain just rejects the information. So, yes. I am dumb. U like 2 reed my blawg?

****

Funny, but my hand is aching right now. It hasn’t hurt since Sunday and now here it goes again. Maybe its the typing? More likely it was me saying that it didn’t hurt anymore. Thats just the way my life works.

I asked Eeyore to write a Christmas story in his journal this morning. This is the result:

The toys are all gone cried the elves! Santa askd "Wear are they"? The elvs said "we delvrd them." thay said with a sigh. Santa said "Why?" The elves said "we don’t know"!

Y’all. I know this little story is short and doesn’t really have an ending.
I know that his spelling isn’t the best ever. I know that he is putting punctuation outside of the quotes. BUT PEOPLE. This child is seven years old. And he is using quotes. And saying things like "thay said with a sigh." With a sigh. That right there? Turns me into a big ol’ puddle of love.