Regular readers of this blog know what a handful my youngest child can be. He’s entertainment on a stick–no doubt about it.

Last year, the art teacher did not appreciate it when Rader announced in class that he could lick his nipples. Of course, as mother of the year, I acted appropriately. (after laughing my ass off…) I do find humor in this type of thing. He’s only eight years old, after all. However, I did talk to him about inappropriate subjects at school, and licking nipples did fall under that category.

Okay, well the art teacher obviously has a low “inappropriate threshold”. She called just a few mins ago:

Me: Hello?
Stupid Art Teacher: Is this Rader’s mom?
Me: Yep.
SAT: This is his stupid art teacher. I had trouble with him saying inappropriate things last year and this year is no better. He just had a very inappropriate conversation at the table with another little boy and there was a little girl sitting right next to him!
Me: (worrying at this point, cuz Rader does have quite the vocabulary and imagination…) Oh? What did he say?
SAT: Well, I didn’t hear it, but the little girl told me he was talking about using the bathroom on the sidewalk.
Me: (definitely worried now) Hm. But you didn’t hear it?
SAT: No, but he’s right here if you wanna talk to him.
Me: Absolutely. Put him on.
Rader: Mom. (kinda mumbling)
Me: Son. Tell me what you said. Exactly.
R: I was talking to Eddie about a video game and I said if you do #1 on the sidewalk you’ll get arrested.
Me: Yeah, but what did you say? Exactly. Did you say Pee? Piss? God, Rader, did you say Piss??
R: NO! I said do #1.
Me: Do #1? That’s it? Nothing else?
R: I promise.
Me: Put Stupid Art Teacher back on phone please.
SAT: Thank you for talking to him.
Me: I’m not so sure you’re gonna thank me in a second. Can you tell me exactly what is “inappropriate” about this? (I repeat the conversation) Because, I’m not finding that inappropriate at all, unless he was breaking a “no talking rule” at the time.
SAT: (Huffing and Puffing) WELL. I find that kind of talk VERY inappropriate.
Me: Ma’am. If he’d have used inappropriate language like “piss” that would’ve been inappropriate.
SAT: GASP
Me: But he’s 8. And he didn’t say anything inappropriate. And I’m trying to figure out why you’re calling about the sentence “If you do #1 on the sidewalk, you’ll get arrested.” when A: it’s true and B: you didn’t even hear him say it in the first place.
SAT: (more huffing and puffing) It’s OBVIOUS that you and I have different ideas on what is inappropriate. I’m sorry I wasted your time.
Me: Please feel free to call me any time.

Honestly. If she wants inappropriate, I can give her inappropriate.

EDITED TO ADD:
My friend suggested Rader take her this if she really wants to see inappropriate:

I do love Halloween.

I haven’t decided what I’m going to be this year though. This was me last year:

And the year before I was a Beer Wench (appropriate, eh?) and White Trash Barbie. Sorry, no pictures to serve as proof–but trust me, I was cute.

And the year before that, I was this:My kids have both decided, much to my shagrin, to be some form of clown. Ian would like to be a “Gangsta Clown” and Rader has decided to be “Slap Happy Clown”. Apparently, both clowns are exactly the same:

Have I told you how much I hate clowns? It’s a deep rooted fear. Might even be worse than my spider issue. Of course, this fear was cemented after I read Stephen King’s It. And then, just in case that hadn’t been enough to scar me for life, I decided to watch the movie, too. Yeah, sometimes I’m not so bright.

As long as I can remember, I’ve hated clowns. There are only two exceptions to this and they are Bozo and Ronald McDonald. So, maybe I should make the boys go as Gangsta Bozo and and Slap Happy Ronald. LOL Somehow I don’t think that’ll fly.

Of course, those two rotten kids of mine know how much I hate clowns which makes their decision even more fun. This year’s Halloween should be interesting…

I do love Halloween.

I haven’t decided what I’m going to be this year though. This was me last year:

And the year before I was a Beer Wench (appropriate, eh?) and White Trash Barbie. Sorry, no pictures to serve as proof–but trust me, I was cute.

And the year before that, I was this:My kids have both decided, much to my shagrin, to be some form of clown. Ian would like to be a “Gangsta Clown” and Rader has decided to be “Slap Happy Clown”. Apparently, both clowns are exactly the same:

Have I told you how much I hate clowns? It’s a deep rooted fear. Might even be worse than my spider issue. Of course, this fear was cemented after I read Stephen King’s It. And then, just in case that hadn’t been enough to scar me for life, I decided to watch the movie, too. Yeah, sometimes I’m not so bright.

As long as I can remember, I’ve hated clowns. There are only two exceptions to this and they are Bozo and Ronald McDonald. So, maybe I should make the boys go as Gangsta Bozo and and Slap Happy Ronald. LOL Somehow I don’t think that’ll fly.

Of course, those two rotten kids of mine know how much I hate clowns which makes their decision even more fun. This year’s Halloween should be interesting…

Okay, my friend had a dream the other night and I’m a little jealous.

She said that in her dream, she was about to embark in a torrid affair with this young hottie. He took her on a picnic near a lake, said all the right things, wore all the right clothes and was just plain hot. She was raring to go.

Until her soon to be lover said, “So let’s go to your place.”

In her dream my friend said No.

But not for the reasons you might think. Not because she’s happily married. Not because she’s pushing 40 and was insecure about the whole “naked in front of someone new” thing. And not because she was afraid she would get caught.

She said no because her house wasn’t clean. Apparently in her dream world, there was no moral struggle with the marriage thing–but nothing was worth the effort of cleaning her house. Not even a torrid love affair with a hot, young stud.

I think that’s the most awesome dream EVER. I mean, honestly, who dreams that shit?

Okay, and am I the only one who absolutely loves the Rozerem dream ad that I have pictured here? I wish my dreams missed me that much. LOL

Okay, my friend had a dream the other night and I’m a little jealous.

She said that in her dream, she was about to embark in a torrid affair with this young hottie. He took her on a picnic near a lake, said all the right things, wore all the right clothes and was just plain hot. She was raring to go.

Until her soon to be lover said, “So let’s go to your place.”

In her dream my friend said No.

But not for the reasons you might think. Not because she’s happily married. Not because she’s pushing 40 and was insecure about the whole “naked in front of someone new” thing. And not because she was afraid she would get caught.

She said no because her house wasn’t clean. Apparently in her dream world, there was no moral struggle with the marriage thing–but nothing was worth the effort of cleaning her house. Not even a torrid love affair with a hot, young stud.

I think that’s the most awesome dream EVER. I mean, honestly, who dreams that shit?

Okay, and am I the only one who absolutely loves the Rozerem dream ad that I have pictured here? I wish my dreams missed me that much. LOL

Not anymore.

Thank all that’s holy, it’s back on tv. And with some new twists. I think I’ll enjoy this season, thankyouverymuch.

Anyone else catch the season premiere? Thoughts?

Not anymore.

Thank all that’s holy, it’s back on tv. And with some new twists. I think I’ll enjoy this season, thankyouverymuch.

Anyone else catch the season premiere? Thoughts?

This (well not THIS exact one) was in my mailbox Monday afternoon.

I may never check my mail again.

*shudder*

I hate spiders. It’s not a phobia yet, but it could become one. Snakes? no problem. Rats? don’t like ’em but I ain’t afraid. Spiders? Hell no.

I was on the phone with Maria when I checked my mail Monday. That was nearly my last phone call because that stupid Black Widow was just millimeters from my fingers. I didn’t panic. (mostly) I slipped off my shoe and beat the hell out of the little black ball of hate.

*shudder*

Then I triple checked to make sure the sneaky little bastard didn’t give birth into my shoe before it died. Or have a friend who decided to hide out in my shoe to avenge the little black ball of hate’s life.

Anyone remember the movie Arachnaphobia? The two scenes the stuck with me the most from the movie were the shoe scene and the lamp scene. It’s the everyday shit that’s gonna get me. One day, I’m gonna slip on my shoe, and CHOMP.

*shudder*

This (well not THIS exact one) was in my mailbox Monday afternoon.

I may never check my mail again.

*shudder*

I hate spiders. It’s not a phobia yet, but it could become one. Snakes? no problem. Rats? don’t like ’em but I ain’t afraid. Spiders? Hell no.

I was on the phone with Maria when I checked my mail Monday. That was nearly my last phone call because that stupid Black Widow was just millimeters from my fingers. I didn’t panic. (mostly) I slipped off my shoe and beat the hell out of the little black ball of hate.

*shudder*

Then I triple checked to make sure the sneaky little bastard didn’t give birth into my shoe before it died. Or have a friend who decided to hide out in my shoe to avenge the little black ball of hate’s life.

Anyone remember the movie Arachnaphobia? The two scenes the stuck with me the most from the movie were the shoe scene and the lamp scene. It’s the everyday shit that’s gonna get me. One day, I’m gonna slip on my shoe, and CHOMP.

*shudder*

Saturday was day one of my 12 week (not 12 step) program to get back into running.

This week, I walk for 4 minutes; then run for 1 minute. I alternate the walking/running 4 times during the session. I do this for 3 days.

I was surprised at how quickly the minute running passed. I’d imagined that one minute would feel like forever as I clomped along like a clumsy mule. I’d also imagined that by the end of that minute, I’d be gasping for air and ready to hurl. However, I seemed to manage each of the minute clompings without much gasping or nausea.

Yesterday was a non-running day. Fishdog and I walked for about an hour and a half in the morning and then yesterday evening, I walked for another 30 minutes. I have a lot of making up to do for the past 3 weeks. I figured I should go ahead and try to make it up all in one day. Makes sense, don’t you think?

I had a fairly successful writing weekend. I only managed to write 3 pages, but I did manage to do a bit of plotting.

Anything fun happen to you this weekend? Try anything new? Go anywhere special? Did you just veg out and read? Fill me in!