I’m not sure what it is about a real Scotsman wearing a kilt, but wow.

Grant graduated from Uni this week–top of his class. Here’s a picture of he and his real mum. How handsome is he?

Congrats on your acheivement, Grant.

I’m not sure what it is about a real Scotsman wearing a kilt, but wow.

Grant graduated from Uni this week–top of his class. Here’s a picture of he and his real mum. How handsome is he?

Congrats on your acheivement, Grant.

Those of you who are regular readers of my fine blog, no I’m a huge Razorback fan. Frankly, I just love college football. But most of all, I love my little piggies.

And tonight, my little piggies are playing the Florida lizards Gators for the SEC Championship.

Right now, it appears that if we can’t beat them, we will at least injure them one by one. Does that make us the Sopranos of football?

I suppose it’s a strategy. I guess I really don’t care as long as we get the W. (I will say, I don’t hope for any real injury…but if you can’t come back for the rest of the game, I can live with that…)

Go Hogs. Please beat the lizards Gators. Otherwise, I might have to put a cap in yo ass.

Those of you who are regular readers of my fine blog, no I’m a huge Razorback fan. Frankly, I just love college football. But most of all, I love my little piggies.

And tonight, my little piggies are playing the Florida lizards Gators for the SEC Championship.

Right now, it appears that if we can’t beat them, we will at least injure them one by one. Does that make us the Sopranos of football?

I suppose it’s a strategy. I guess I really don’t care as long as we get the W. (I will say, I don’t hope for any real injury…but if you can’t come back for the rest of the game, I can live with that…)

Go Hogs. Please beat the lizards Gators. Otherwise, I might have to put a cap in yo ass.

Yesterday proved a theory I had long suspected to be true.

I’m the worst mother ever.

Yes, dear blog readers, it’s true. I simply suck at the motherhood thing. I don’t even think I get an A for effort.

My #2 son (#2 in birth order not in preference) wanted to participate in the reading fair. He finished reading Eldest (which is an 8th GRADE level book and only about 1 million pages long). #2 was quite proud, seeing as how he is only 8 YEARS old. (as he should be)

So, as usual with the Francis Family, we waited til the last minute to do our readng board. He and I worked on it together, me all the time thinking “I’m the best mother ever.” The board looked fantastic. He was so proud.

The next morning, I send him off to school and let him know that I will bring the board up after school for set up (as the instructions read) Again, I’m thinking, “Wow. He’s so lucky to have me as a mom.”

Fast forward two hours. I call the school.

School: Best school ever, may I help you?

Me: This is #2’s mom (in birth order, not preference) and I’d like to know if I can come by at lunch to set up his reading fair project.

School: Um, Ms. Worst Mom in the World, set up was yesterday. The judging has already been completed.

Me: @#$!

School: Poor #2 son, (obviously in preference and birth order). You are the worst mom ever.

I dread the rest of the day. I dread the phone call I know I’m gonna get that afternoon.

Sure enough the phone call comes.

#1 son (in birth order not in preference): Mom, he’s in his room crying.

Me: (sound of heart shattering echos through the building) Crying or pouting?

#1 son (in birth order not in preference): Heaving.

Me: @#$! I’ll be right home.

I call my friend Andrea on the way home near tears myself. Nobody wants to let your child down that way…and I felt like I had just crushed him. I had come up with some good ideas on how to make it all better. (most of them had to do with groveling and bribery) I had already decided that we would just save his most excellent poster for next year’s fair. Andrea said I should tell him that we weren’t a day late, we were 364 days early.

I got home, and hugged my boy tight and said those exact words. He started laughing and said that was a good idea. Then he asked if I could take him to eat cheese dip.

Cheese dip makes everyone feel better. Even the worst mom in the world.

Yesterday proved a theory I had long suspected to be true.

I’m the worst mother ever.

Yes, dear blog readers, it’s true. I simply suck at the motherhood thing. I don’t even think I get an A for effort.

My #2 son (#2 in birth order not in preference) wanted to participate in the reading fair. He finished reading Eldest (which is an 8th GRADE level book and only about 1 million pages long). #2 was quite proud, seeing as how he is only 8 YEARS old. (as he should be)

So, as usual with the Francis Family, we waited til the last minute to do our readng board. He and I worked on it together, me all the time thinking “I’m the best mother ever.” The board looked fantastic. He was so proud.

The next morning, I send him off to school and let him know that I will bring the board up after school for set up (as the instructions read) Again, I’m thinking, “Wow. He’s so lucky to have me as a mom.”

Fast forward two hours. I call the school.

School: Best school ever, may I help you?

Me: This is #2’s mom (in birth order, not preference) and I’d like to know if I can come by at lunch to set up his reading fair project.

School: Um, Ms. Worst Mom in the World, set up was yesterday. The judging has already been completed.

Me: @#$!

School: Poor #2 son, (obviously in preference and birth order). You are the worst mom ever.

I dread the rest of the day. I dread the phone call I know I’m gonna get that afternoon.

Sure enough the phone call comes.

#1 son (in birth order not in preference): Mom, he’s in his room crying.

Me: (sound of heart shattering echos through the building) Crying or pouting?

#1 son (in birth order not in preference): Heaving.

Me: @#$! I’ll be right home.

I call my friend Andrea on the way home near tears myself. Nobody wants to let your child down that way…and I felt like I had just crushed him. I had come up with some good ideas on how to make it all better. (most of them had to do with groveling and bribery) I had already decided that we would just save his most excellent poster for next year’s fair. Andrea said I should tell him that we weren’t a day late, we were 364 days early.

I got home, and hugged my boy tight and said those exact words. He started laughing and said that was a good idea. Then he asked if I could take him to eat cheese dip.

Cheese dip makes everyone feel better. Even the worst mom in the world.

Shannon Mckelden admitted in her comments to me that she hates being Santa.

I must admit, she’s not alone. I haven’t been a big fan of playing Santa. The whole keeping secrets thing, false hope thing, disappointment when Santa had no money and couldn’t even afford the lump of coal for your sock thing….

Not to mention having to stay up later than the kids in order to put the Santa gifts out. Huh. I’m almost old. I shouldn’t have to stay up past my bed times just to make the young’uns happy. It’s my Christmas, too.

Yeah, so anyway, now I’m wondering if maybe it’s not a coincidence that Santa is Satan’s anagram. (look ma! a big word from junior high english!)

Could this be the only way Beelzebub could wrangle an invite to Baby Jesus’ birthday party?

Seems awful suspicious to me.

OH. MY. GOD.

So my tongue was perfectly planted in my cheek when I made my Santa/Satan comment…cuz I totally don’t believe it but think it’s kinda funny that they are like, anagrams. (look ma! I used that big word again. And properly!)

Anyway, I thought it would be funny to google Satan Santa and so I did. I wanted a picture of santa with horns or something. See, like this one…
But my google search brought up sooooo much more. Did you know people really believe Satan and Santa are the same because they are anagrams? (woohoo! 3 times, ma!) Really? I mean, really?

Look at this quote from one of the sites*:

So talk to your children before it is too late! Tell them that Santa is no kindly old man; he is an evil demon. And next time your family sees some propped up gin-soaked vagrant in a Mall wearing a red suit with white furry cuffs, set a good example and witness for the other deluded people waiting in line. Loudly, rebuke him! Announce to all the children in the store “Not only is Santa a lie, he will ravage you sexually, drink your blood and drag your palpating carcasses down to Hell with him!” It is only through setting a good example that we can put the Christ back in Christmas.

Are you freaking kidding me? Seriously? Telling the kids that Santa is a vampire rapist with a first class ticket on the handbasket to hell is putting the Christ back in Christmas? Really?

I’m laughing so hard right now, I think I peed a little.

*Edited to add:

This is from a satirical site: Landoverbaptist.org and I quoted it cuz it summed up the absurdity of Santa being Satan perfectly.

However, if you want some sites who do believe Santa is Santa, just google it. Amazing. Truly. See, I guess I’m still a little naïve…

Shannon Mckelden admitted in her comments to me that she hates being Santa.

I must admit, she’s not alone. I haven’t been a big fan of playing Santa. The whole keeping secrets thing, false hope thing, disappointment when Santa had no money and couldn’t even afford the lump of coal for your sock thing….

Not to mention having to stay up later than the kids in order to put the Santa gifts out. Huh. I’m almost old. I shouldn’t have to stay up past my bed times just to make the young’uns happy. It’s my Christmas, too.

Yeah, so anyway, now I’m wondering if maybe it’s not a coincidence that Santa is Satan’s anagram. (look ma! a big word from junior high english!)

Could this be the only way Beelzebub could wrangle an invite to Baby Jesus’ birthday party?

Seems awful suspicious to me.

OH. MY. GOD.

So my tongue was perfectly planted in my cheek when I made my Santa/Satan comment…cuz I totally don’t believe it but think it’s kinda funny that they are like, anagrams. (look ma! I used that big word again. And properly!)

Anyway, I thought it would be funny to google Satan Santa and so I did. I wanted a picture of santa with horns or something. See, like this one…
But my google search brought up sooooo much more. Did you know people really believe Satan and Santa are the same because they are anagrams? (woohoo! 3 times, ma!) Really? I mean, really?

Look at this quote from one of the sites*:

So talk to your children before it is too late! Tell them that Santa is no kindly old man; he is an evil demon. And next time your family sees some propped up gin-soaked vagrant in a Mall wearing a red suit with white furry cuffs, set a good example and witness for the other deluded people waiting in line. Loudly, rebuke him! Announce to all the children in the store “Not only is Santa a lie, he will ravage you sexually, drink your blood and drag your palpating carcasses down to Hell with him!” It is only through setting a good example that we can put the Christ back in Christmas.

Are you freaking kidding me? Seriously? Telling the kids that Santa is a vampire rapist with a first class ticket on the handbasket to hell is putting the Christ back in Christmas? Really?

I’m laughing so hard right now, I think I peed a little.

*Edited to add:

This is from a satirical site: Landoverbaptist.org and I quoted it cuz it summed up the absurdity of Santa being Satan perfectly.

However, if you want some sites who do believe Santa is Santa, just google it. Amazing. Truly. See, I guess I’m still a little naïve…

My mother was in 1st grade when she found out about Santa. It still amazes me that she opened up a dictionary and looked him up. “A mythical character…” yup. So then she looked up the word mythicial…and sees the word “imaginary”.

This from a 6 year old. And she is still the least romantic and most analytical person on earth to this day.

Santa Claus is the most romantic notion ever, if you think about it. (Ladies, just look at him!) And yes, 5th grade is probably a little old to really still believe in him, but boy, I did.

I can tell you one thing is for sure–if I hadn’t found out about Santa before I got the houseshoes instead of the Mr. Microphone, I would’ve certainly stopped believing then.*

So, when did you stop believing? Do you remember?

*Santa my mother apparently did some research and discovered the Mr. Microphones were pieces of shit and so she chose not to purchase it because she didn’t want me to be disappointed. The problem was, I saw this wrapped gift under the tree that was the PERFECT size for a Mr. Microphone and it was all I wanted…so, of course, that box couldn’t be anything else. God they were ugly houseshoes.

My mother was in 1st grade when she found out about Santa. It still amazes me that she opened up a dictionary and looked him up. “A mythical character…” yup. So then she looked up the word mythicial…and sees the word “imaginary”.

This from a 6 year old. And she is still the least romantic and most analytical person on earth to this day.

Santa Claus is the most romantic notion ever, if you think about it. (Ladies, just look at him!) And yes, 5th grade is probably a little old to really still believe in him, but boy, I did.

I can tell you one thing is for sure–if I hadn’t found out about Santa before I got the houseshoes instead of the Mr. Microphone, I would’ve certainly stopped believing then.*

So, when did you stop believing? Do you remember?

*Santa my mother apparently did some research and discovered the Mr. Microphones were pieces of shit and so she chose not to purchase it because she didn’t want me to be disappointed. The problem was, I saw this wrapped gift under the tree that was the PERFECT size for a Mr. Microphone and it was all I wanted…so, of course, that box couldn’t be anything else. God they were ugly houseshoes.