Idiom Idiot

Idioms have never been my strong suit. 

And I get it honest. 

My Dad messes his phrases up, too.

In fact, when it comes to anything verbal, chances are I'm gonna botch something up. But, Lord be with me when I try to use phrases. Let's just say, I am quickly reminded that the idiom part of my brain did not quite develop properly. 

Here's proof.

1. Telling my boss over the phone that the 

display I created was so good, it was going to 

"blow his pants down." 

Let me explain myself.  

I combined two idioms. (I don't recommend that.)

"Blow your mind" and "Knock your socks off"

Only somehow, "socks" got turned into "pants."

2. I once told an old lady at church that 
her good friends were "a dime a dozen."

I thought that was a compliment.

Yikes.

You ever said anything you wish you could take back?

Welcome to my world. 

Presidential Dumb-dumb

Welcome to Hotel Homeschool... Newborn Style.

Opie had just started first grade when Peanut was born. Two weeks later, we moved to Maryland to live in a hotel while my husband finished job training. I didn't want Opie to have to change schools three times in one year, so I decided (in a moment of temporary insanity),  to homeschool him in the hotel (with a newborn!?!) until we could get settled in New Jersey. (Oh. My. Word!)

Since we were so close to D.C., I decided to take a field trip into the city to visit some famous monuments. I was thankful to be able to do this with him at such an impressionable age. I was determined to take full advantage of living so close to such a great city. 

When we arrived in Washington, I was in awe myself. I'd only ridden through the city once, years before, and I was as giddy as he was. (okay, probably more so)

We walked to the World War II Memorial and gazed at the fountains and the giant eagles. I shared with Opie some of the names etched on the stones and what they meant. It was moving and powerful. I was already deeply impressed with how I, his Mother, was handling this field trip. Didn't I deserve to be nominated for some Homeschooling Hall of Fame Award? 

(Ever notice that right when you think you're Smarty McSmarterton, you get whacked back down to Gumby status?)

We moved on past the Reflection Pool towards the pinnacle of our day: the awe-inspiring Lincoln Memorial. Inside, I was brimming with enthusiasm. "This moment could be a defining moment in Opie's life," I thought. "Where he could embark forth on a journey to become president himself.  I could just picture him swearing in, saying, "I owe it all to my Mother, who lit a spark in me on the day we stood at the foot of the Lincoln Memorial. She is the reason I stand before you today." He was about to see a magnificent example of how your life and character can make history.

We approached the Memorial. 

As we rounded the corner, Opie's eyes grew wide as he looked up at the enormous statue of Abraham Lincoln. For a moment, I watched him soak in the vast space around him. The huge columns. The etched writings of Lincoln on the walls. The richness of our Nation's history. His curiosity was palpable and this supermom was about to make homeschool history.

 So, with great passion and purpose, I spoke....(*Cue symphony of Star Spangled Banner*)

"Opie, (pause.) This is Abraham Lincoln, the fifth president of the United States of America."

What mother had e'er spoken words with such conviction and truth? 

"What did you just say?" my husband asked. 

I sensed I'd said something incorrectly. 

"Oh, Silly me! Opie, he was the sixth president."

My husband shook his head.

"Seventh?"

Nope.

"Tenth?"

Wrong again.

"Thirteenth?"

Getting Warmer.

"Fifteenth?"

You gotta be kidding.

"Sixteenth!"

Somebody get this girl a cookie. 



So, the teachable moment? Not like I'd planned. 

My mommy big-head? Deflated.

And that Homeschool Hall of Fame Award? I'd have a better chance at winning the Nobel Peace Prize.

"And to think," my husband added, 
"you are in charge of my child's education."

Oh Snap! Shots: Moments

In real life, 

Oh Snap!

Moments.

Life is full of them.

And kids make them extra special.

Moments that we freeze in our mind.

Moments of "Wow. I can't believe you're mine."

Proud moments with our little "helpers."

Loud Moments.

"Dat's too yowd" moments.

"Dat sparkler's weally scawy" moments.

Finding-new-"toys"-under-the-bathroom-sink moments.

Getting-into-everything-but-the-kitchen-sink moments.

Getting-into-everything-including-the-kitchen-sink moments.

"What in the world happened here?" moments.

"So that's where last week's snack went" moments.

Moments where they blow our minds with how they think, like protecting Mater and McQueen's eyes from the glaring sun.

"MOM, Come look at me!" moments.

"This is my life and I wouldn't have it any other way" moments.

I love these pictures! They make me smile! Next week's theme is: "What's in your wallet?" Dump out your purse or diaper bag, snap a picture and write a description of what you find. (Just do it. You know you need to clean it out anyway!) Go ahead and send it to me today, so you won't forget! I'm gonna do it, too! 

Gas Confessions

It's shameful! 

I'm a grown woman for crying out loud! 

How could I not know any better?

How can I share a mistake this huge? 

Well, they say that confession is good for the soul.

So, don't judge me.

The truth is... 

(I-ran-out-of-gas-in-the-middle-of-the-woods-with-my-toddler-in-the-backseat.)

Whew! There. I said it. 

Horrible, isn't it? 

Well, let me defend myself by saying...

It all started when my husband took Opie on an overnight canoe and camping trip with a family from our church. He was hoping I could drive up with Peanut later in the day and visit them for a bit in the evening. So, he plugged the campsite address into our Garmin and bid me farewell. 

When Peanut woke up from his afternoon nap, I put him in his carseat and off we headed toward the mountains of New Jersey. As I pulled out of our drive-way, my phone rang. It was my Mom calling, so I strapped on my bluetooth headset to chat.

At that point, I noticed my gas tank was extremely low. I passed two gas stations close to my house, but since my Mom was talking, I didn't want to interrupt her. Besides that, it looked like my drive was going to be another forty-five minutes, so I assumed there would be another gas station somewhere along the way.

And that is where I deserve a swift roundhouse kick to the head.

I am still new to New Jersey. I typically don't veer off my beaten path. And the fact that I was headed into the woods should have been a clue that perhaps this wasn't the most populated route. 

Now, I am quite naive at times and I just figured that somewhere over the mountain and through the woods, I would see a sign of hope. You know, a good Samaritan who just happened to be traveling with a full gas-can in his trunk. Or better yet a rich country estate with it's own gas pump. Hey, it could happen!

I finally arrived at the state park. I almost stopped when I saw the ranger's station. But, then, I noticed I was almost to my husbands campsite. "Why not wait?" I thought to myself. "Dennis and the guys will know what to do." 

(Insert another full roundhouse kick.)  

You see, my GPS didn't actually take me to his campsite. It took me to somebody else's campsite. And up to that point, I had been hopeful. 

Yeaaaah, not so much anymore. 

I got back on "Ain't-Nobody-Livin'-Within-Fifty-Miles-of-Here Road" and tried to keep my eyes peeled for some sign of life. I passed a park ranger and nearly got whiplash trying to do a one-eighty to catch up to him. 

He must have been going a hundred miles an hour, 'cuz I couldn't catch up to the guy going sixty in a thirty-five! (Wait...could that be used in court against me?)

I passed a couple of creepy log cabins, but all I could picture was me duct-taped to a chair, held hostage by mountain people. Besides, I had Peanut with me, and I couldn't risk putting him in danger. 

Out of gas and out of ideas.

And that, my friends, is when I lost it. 

Panic set in. Dreams of being rescued by park rangers, random hikers, or Channing Tatum quickly dissipated. Reality was sinking in and it wasn't looking pretty. I decided to pull over when I noticed my cell-phone actually had a signal and before my gas totally fizzled out. It was here when my decision making skills finally took a turn for the better.

I dialed '911.' (all the while, hysterically crying as if I had been impailed by a spear)

They transferred me to the park ranger's station, where I spoke with a female ranger who asked me the dumbest question I could have imagined: "What do you see?" I slightly hesitated and then replied sarcastically, "Umm, woods...and a river." "Well, we are all busy with other things," she said. Nevermind, I had a toddler in the car with me and the sun was about to set!

To sum up the following two hours, let's just say that I was still sitting on the side of Old Mill Road. Peanut was starving by this point and it was hot. Thankfully, I just happened to have some bottled waters in the trunk and nuts I had grabbed for a snack. (which in and of itself is a miracle because I never remember to grab snacks!) 

Eventually, my husband returned to the campsite from their canoeing expedition and noticed ten missed calls from me. He knew something was wrong since I had not arrived yet. He picked up on call attempt number eleven and assured me that all would be okay. They quickly plugged in my approximate location on their GPS and a few minutes later, my knights in shining Chrysler arrived. 

Boy, was I glad to see them. 

We switched Peanut to the other car and laughed for a second about the crazy ordeal. Best of all, my precious husband never said a word or scolded me about my mistake, and was just glad we were okay. 

He also commended me for leaving a small amount of gas in the car. After all, it came in handy when he drove it to their campsite, that I had apparently passed...two miles back. 

The moral of this story folks? 

I think Channing Tatum would 

make a nice-looking park ranger.

Hot Date at the Pistol Range

My husband has been dying to take me to the pistol range where he is a member. He wanted to teach me how to properly shoot a gun just in case we have an intruder while he is out of town, or worse, some parent cuts line in carpool.

So, I finally got a sitter and went.

Once we arrived,  I took a fifteen minute safety course, then signed a paper saying that I wouldn't sue them in case I was injured or shot or something like that. (I never read the fine print.) They said we could not shoot if we were impaired by drugs or alcohol. They did not mention sleep deprivation as an impairment. Peanut wakes me up at 5:30 every morning. Believe me. That is an impairment. 

Before entering the range, I had to put on goggles and ear protection that was supposed to make me look ridiculous safe. 

Were they really about to hand this gal a loaded gun?

My husband helped me grip my 9mm Sig P226 (impressed?) and before you knew it, I was a shootin' fool. I must say it was quite loud in the range, and the ear protection didn't do diddly for me, but, that didn't stop me from poppin' caps and goin' all gangsta'! 

Look at that grip! Yowza! I look so for real, don't I? 

Thanks Honey, for two reasons:

A. Snapping the above picture when I was obviously not ready
and
B. Not telling me to wear close-toed shoes, thus allowing my feet to get burned from hot brass flying from my gun. (who knew?)

The final outcome?

A score of 238 out of 250 on my first lesson, a hot date with the hubs, and one Mama who ain't playin' around with any carpool shenanigans...

HOLLA!

PS. Be sure to go register for my Jewelry Birthday Give-Away! 

Oh Snap! Shots Friday: "There Might Be Something Growing in My Car."

My husband always wonders why I just can't seem to keep my car clean. 

Let me break it down for ya, honey..

By the time I strap Peanut into the car, he has already taken his shoes off and thrown them in the floor. The cracker he was eating is now liquified crumbs dripping onto his carseat. While out, we accumulate suckers, stickers and other plastic trinkets from well-meaning folks along the way. It's lunch time, and since I didn't think we'd be out that long, I didn't pack snacks, and the kids are starving. So, I run through the drive-thru and order Happy Meals organic wholesome meals. 

In one day, my clean car has become a heaping pile of mail, plastic bags, shoes, socks, paper, trinkets, golden arches, half-eaten nuggets and stale french fries. And by the time I enter the house, the last thing on my mind is going back to clean the car. 

Oh, well. Clean cars are for sissies. (tee-hee-hee)

In Real Life, 

Oh Snap!

CAUTION:

Some images might be frightening to small children. 

(or at least adults who suffer from OCD.)

Wow. And I thought I was bad...

That last one has me more concerned about their cholesterol than the cleanliness of their car. Ha! :)

PS. Thanks for submitting these! It took some guts to take them. (and maybe a HAZMAT suit as well) Next week's theme is "Birthday Parties." Think of some good ones and send 'em my way!  

My Little List Maker

We go through some paper at our house.

A lot of paper. 

My oldest son loves the stuff.

He draws, makes paper airplanes galore, and does origami. When he was four years old, he made me a "coat" out of white computer paper and tape. He made piles of "things." I kept some, but if I would have kept everything, we would literally be swimming in paper. In fact, I'm surprised the Feds never showed up to investigate our vast consumption of paper goods and Scotch tape.

And once he learned to write, whew-wee!, did our paper consumption increase. He began writing everything down. And I mean everything...including (but not limited to) recipes, ideas, future plans, calendars, to-do lists, check lists, gift lists, and all kinds of random lists. 

Two weeks after I gave birth to Peanut in 2010, we all packed up the car and moved into a hotel room for four months to be with my husband while he finished job training. It was the middle of the school year, so I had to homeschool my oldest...while caring for a newborn...inside a hotel. (Thankfully, it was a suite, but still...can you say "insane?")

Opie was bored and missed getting his chore allowance. So, he broke out some paper and began writing one of his infamous lists on things he could do to generate some money from inside our cave hotel room.

He figured he could market my teaching services or even do laundry for someone. He really enjoyed dancing, so he thought that might generate some revenue. (In fact, I woke up a couple of times to find him dancing in the hotel hallway, door ajar, while blasting Disney Channel's "Big Time Rush" from our television.) Drawing pictures, making decorations and even doing a few magic tricks were other ways he decided could increase his cash flow.

While I knew the chances of someone knocking on our door for these things were slim to none, I didn't want to discourage Opie's little entrepreneurial spirit. Had I read the final list, though, I might have at least encouraged him to change the wording on one of his services...

Here's what I read...days after it had been taped to the outside of our hotel door.

FOR SALE

Teaching $7

Decorations $6

Laundry $6

Drawing $7

Dancing $7

Tricks $10 

After reading it, my husband and I were actually surprised that we hadn't gotten any late night knocks on the door.

HOTEL LIFE

My Little Trick-ster jumping on our hotel bed.

My two boys getting to know each other.

Terribly sleep deprived in our den/kitchen/office/bedroom.

Homeschool Hotel. I still can't believe I did that. 

Opie, practicing his handwriting...

As hard as those times were, I cherish every second of juggling it all in that itty-bitty space. We made some amazing (and funny) memories. 
Come to think of it, I believe Opie made a list of them...

Oh Snap! Shots Friday

Sometimes kids don't make the smartest decisions.

Heck, sometimes adults don't either.

This week's pictures show a progression of poor decisions that could have ended pretty badly. (But, I'm glad they didn't! That way, we can laugh without any guilt!) Enjoy!

In Real Life,

Oh Snap!

"Now That Probably Wasn't Such a Good Idea, Was It?"

Climbing onto the dinner table,

Climbing a little higher onto the piano for a "performance",

Climbing a lot higher onto the monkey bars,
(F.Y.I. Dad actually encouraged this one)

Climbing onto a ladder, set inside a front loader
extended ten feet in the air.
(I can't believe this one didn't end in a trip to the hospital).

"Hmmm, this seems like the perfect place to stuff a bead."

"Hmmm, this seems like the perfect place to stuff myself."

Next week's theme is "Something Might Be Growing Inside My Car." Snap a picture of the mess inside your car. Come on. I know how bad it can get. I'll even snap a pic of my own disaster. Just snap it on your phone and shoot it to me by email: brianticsblog@gmail.com 

And no worries... I won't post names...

PS. Go register for my fantastic give-away here, if you haven't already!