Guest Post - Suburban Stereotype

Today's Guest Blogger is Mandy P at Suburban Stereotype. I was SOOPER excited when she agreed to post for me today. She is one of my favorite bloggers of all time!

Mandy has this to say about herself

I am a SAHM and love it! But don't think that means
every day is easy... This blog is my journey through this crazy thing I call my life. I want to talk about the things that happen while wearing all my "hats" (wife, mom, child of God, daughter, sister, friend, employee, etc) all the things that make up each day-the good, the bad, and the sometimes mundane. =)

I am a Christian, but please don't label me as "one of those" before you get to know me. I am no better than anyone else. I don't "hate" other people regardless of their lifestyle, beliefs or any other reason. I am saved by Christ and have nothing to boast in except that alone.

I am your run-of-the mill neurotic girl who worries incessantly about her kids and tries her darndest to be all things to all people. I am most comfortable in my sweats (or as my family calls them, our "cozies.") I used to get my hair and nails done, wear clothes with buttons, and talk about things OTHER THAN diapers, potties, and poop. My date night used to consist of more than a quick appetizer and a sprint to the penny saver theater and then home in time to untie relieve my in-laws.

Now we're livin' the life; suburban domestic bliss. I say that both tongue-in-cheek and in seriousness. My husband (Joe) and I love our kiddos and do our best every day to love each other, love our babies and hold it all together. Feel free to comment (or not). But most importantly, feel free to laugh. Laugh at us. Laugh at yourself. Join us in this carnival we call our life!

What in the world has this planet come to when an elderly man yells obscenities at me from the middle of the road? Wait. Let me back up and paint the picture.

The hubs and I were cruising along in our sweet periwinkle minivan, headed home after a crushing victory at R's soccer game when an elderly man started crossing the street in front of us. He may have even made it across in time except he slowed down and then stopped altogether in the middle of the road long enough to yell at us to slow down. Against my better judgment and my pleas to "hit the gas!" Joe went ahead and stopped before we plowed right into him.

From that last statement you may have gathered that I'm a hateful person. I assure you, I'm not. But, here we were, minding our own business, driving the speed limit (25 mph-or maybe just a skosh above) and this old guy just waltzes out in front of us. I believe back in the day they used to ticket for jay walking.

Still stinging from Joe's reluctance to mow him down like a pancake, I rolled down my window as we passed and said--very politely-- "this isn't a cross walk, sir." To which he replied--equally as polite--"Butt out, b*****."

Oh. yes. he. did.

After picking my jaw up off the floor, I yelled something else charming out the window. I can't be sure now what it was, but I may recall addressing him by a variation of Richard. Not proud of that.

Now, answer me this...what is it about a confrontation with a rude stranger that brings out the lion in me? I could have torn that guy's eyes out, and might have if Joe hadn't refused to stop. (Can you imagine that scene? Me, all pregnant, rolling around on the road, scrapping with Grandpa Jones while my minivan overflowing with children looks on?) Ordinarily, I love me some elderly, but that day, my head very nearly popped off my head.

What happened to chivalry? I thought old men were supposed to be cuddly and cute and carry quarters and Werther's Originals in the pockets of their gold cardigans? What the...?

Tomorrow is another game day. With these pregnancy hormones raging through my body, anyone's fair game. *cracking knuckles*

Guest Post - Bossy Betty

For the next week and a half I will be hosting a whole slew of guest bloggers (or is that a gaggle of guest bloggers? A herd of bloggers? Whatever!) I will be immersing myself in the final days of packing, moving, unpacking and breathing deeply that the move is over. We received news that we will possibly (98%) be closing on the dream home, but until I get the keys in my hand and see something in writing...I am a little doubtful. I will still be posting on Twitter and will be doing a Saturday blog post on what the outcome of our housing situation turned out to be.

I want to thank everyone who responded to my "Call To Arms" with guest blogging. I had a fabulous turn out and can't wait to introduce these wonderful blog ladies to you!

Today's Guest Blogger is Bossy Betty. This is what Betty has to say about herself:

In my old age, I plan to become the crazy cat lady in the neighborhood--the woman both pitied and viewed with a strange sense of fascination by all. That life of fame will have to wait though. These days I am a hard-workin' teacher and mama to two boys. I've been married to a man--a real, live man-- for 27 years. He's real nice and he's clean too! In the mornings I go Nordic walking around my neighborhood and at night I sleep the sleep of the happy.

Gifted and Talented!

Hyperactive parents that we were, we were more than ready for Evan to take to the wilds of academics and be the little Super Star in school we knew he could be. After all, hadn't we filled his crib with educational toys? Didn't we have hundreds of books scattered around the house like wild flower seeds? The boy couldn't even go to the bathroom without encountering some author or another staring at him from the rack of books beside the toilet. Meal times were not just times to eat. They were times to learn! learn! learn! with place mats featuring State Flags and a Map of the World Flags. The lettering at the top of these place mats commanded our children to "Eat and Learn!"

Sonny Boy, who had always had a healthy fear of authority figures, jumped into school, did the work, no questions asked. Evan, however, viewed his teachers as impediments to recess. When his soft-spoken second grade teacher said softly and mournfully, "Evan, it makes me sad when you don't do your work," he viewed her as having some sort of mental problem that made her even more unsuitable for the classroom. "Why should that make her sad, Mom? Don't you think that's really weird?"

So in third grade we were more than ready for the ignition switch to be flipped on. Regular readers of Bossy Betty will recall that at a parent-teacher conference a year earlier, the teacher had been excited to tell us of Evan's progress in the class in the form of this high praise: "He doesn't fall out of his chair as much any more."

So third grade started off with more frenzied excitement (by HOB and I) at any progress being made. He was doing fine in his class, but I hung out with high-performance mothers whose high-performance children were building models of the Eiffel Tower out of toothpicks in their spare time and preparing to be "Gated." GATE (Gifted and Talented) was the program in our school to which selected children were admitted and so all of these mothers liked to use "Gated" as a verb in their conversations as much as possible. "When Eric gets Gated this year...." "You know, we've promised her a new computer when she gets Gated. Of course, she'll probably build her own before she gets Gated." (Readers: Stop here to make retching sound of vomiting.) Obnoxious? Oh yes. Bossy Betty jealous? Oh no. Not at all.

One fine afternoon it happened: Evan came home and immediately opened his backpack. He withdrew a brightly colored xeroxed paper and began working intensively. Now, I had read the "Parenting a Brilliant Child" books and one thing the books recommended was to not to interfere in moments like this. When the child takes ownership of the work, the child is encouraged to do more of the same, leading to a Nobel Prize in Science in the future.

I watched from afar as he worked with different colored markers. His concentration level on this project was intense. He worked on this opus, this masterpiece for ten or so minutes. I stood back, knowing this was the pivotal shift we had been waiting for but still curious. Was it math that had sparked this new found fervor? Was it a love of science? Was it (ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleasepleaseplease) a love of reading?

Finally, he stood back, finished, drained, but very, very pleased. I stepped forward as he unveiled his work to me.

He had annotated, decorated, and edited the lunch schedule for the next month.

There were clouds over Fish Sticks day. Sloppy Joe day had been crossed out and the words "Boo! Boo!" written above it. Pizza Day glowed with yellow sunshine and happy faces.

I looked at this boy of mine at the table--a happy, proud and exuberant little soul--and knew I would not change one single thing about him. He was (and remains) a singularly unique and wonderful person. Gifted and Talented? You bet. In so many ways.

"Well, I said, hugging him, "I am so proud of you! Let's just put this right on the refrigerator where we can look at it every day."

And we did.

*Thank you so much Bossy Betty for contributing this wonderful piece of the pride we have in our children!! I was honored to post this!

I Get By...

...with a little help from my friends.

Alrighty, I would love for some of you to shoot my an email and offer to do some guest blogging. No particular topic (unless you would love to make up a song, Real Moms Of Genius or some lessons learned) In the next 3ish weeks, my blogging is going to be pretty scarce. We are down to the wire with the moving, my laptop is dying (never fear...one is being shipped as we speak) and my brain has seriously HAD enough. So if you want to guest blog, hit the "Contact Me" button and let me know!

It has been so stressful these past few months...come to think of it; it's been stressful since September when we officially put the house on the market. In addition to trying to sell our house, The Grays moved in with us, Bitsy was born, we found the dream home...the list seems to go on and on.

To top it off, these jerks (Yes, they are jerks and you will see why) who put a contract on our house have been unbearably dumb. Our closing date was set for May 25th with our move-out date set for June 4th. They agreed to this...THEY SIGNED IT! Wednesday I get a call from our realtor telling us that they purchased some kind of "early closing packet" and want to close the next day.

Ummm....did you forget what you signed?

Well, we ended up agreeing to the early closing and then they decided to turn into toddlers. You know....crying, being irrational, stomping their feet and not caring about anyone else.

They decided that they weren't going to sign the closing papers at all unless we agreed to let them move in on June 1st.

Once again, did you forget what you signed?

It seems that their landlord wanted them out on the 1st and they didn't have anywhere to live. So to them, it made complete sense to kick out a family with 3 small children so that they weren't inconvenienced.

Here's the deal. The "Dream Home" is a short sale. It does not follow the usual rules of real estate and we don't have a closing date set in stone. All we know is that it should be before the 28th. However...we don't KNOW that. It could very easily take a few more days depending on when everyone gets their John Hancock's on the bottom line.

How could I possibly agree to allow them to move in early if I don't know when I will have somewhere to move to? Follow my thinking here?

Our agent called and said the girl (Yes, a girl...not a woman. A woman has more class than that) was boo-hooing at the closing table because she didn't plan ahead on the original move in date of the 4th. It made perfect sense to her that we should be forced to move out early, regardless of if we had somewhere to move to.

They basically held us hostage over this closing contract. We had to sell this house, because we have a contract on another one. They have finally caved and signed, but if history is any judge with these people, this will not be the last we hear of it. They have been a thorn in our side since the very beginning. Sending inspectors and appraisers without consulting with us on our schedule. Coming to see the house, but showing up late and having a temper tantrum because we were in the house. Then there have been at least 20 calls (this is not an embellishment) trying to convince us to move out early. They even sent a termite inspector who claimed there were termites, but if we would just let them go ahead and move in; they would take care of it. We got two other termite companies to come look at the house and there was no evidence of termites. Just a little game they were trying to play.

Now do you see why I call them "Jerks"?

So anyways...I need some guest bloggers to fill in while I am up to my armpits in wrapping paper, boxes, packing tape and finalizing when we move to the Dream Home.

Help me get by with a little help from my friends.

Guest Blogging

Today I am guest blogging over at Lessons Learned. Come check me out over there to find out the lessons that I learned in blogging.


Wait....


Are you still there?

First, did you notice my new blog design (No? Better have your eyes checked) I got it from Lindsay over at Blogaholics Design (button is in my sidebar) I had been contemplating a new look, but held off because I didn't think anyone could please me. I did NOT want a cookie cutter, scrapbook on caffeine look. After sending Lindsay a brief email, she had this design ready in no time. It was like she was in my head...scary actually. She made my design match my personality and my blog content AND...AND!!!...she did it for a reasonable price. Seriously...REASONABLE (Like, you feed a family of four for less than what she charges!) There were a couple of little things that I wanted to change and she made the changes swiftly and painless. Lindsay is just the nicest gal you could ever want to meet and a complete pleasure to work with. I highly recommend her! Go check her out now! I know she won't disappoint you.


Before you go, I just have to show you some new pictures of The Scribblers.

Buzz and her Easter bunny (and the little sisters' bunnies too)

Buzz and her best friend in the world




Momma and Buzz goofing around



Great GooglyMoogly...I got a pic of the 2 year old smiling! Score!




The only one who understand her 2 year old angst


My temperamental angel.


Bitsy...my smallest Scribbler


I love when she looks so serious


Cuddling the only one who can't run away from me.

Thanks for stopping by...Toodles!