The Martyr Diaries

It's not a full moon, is it? ;)

Seriously, the boy woke me at 1am to ask where his yellow colored pencil was. I told him to look in the colored pencil bin on the school table. He says, "Hey! Good idea! Thanks!!" At 2am, the girl woke me to watch her close her window and then then tuck her in again, complete with the entire litany and ritual. There wasn't any genuflecting or incense involved, but close.

Tired today. But that's nothing new.

The kids have taken to covering the carpet with trash and crumbs and then complaining when I vacuum. They're five feet, 90 pounds, and eleven years old. But I just don't have the will to make them vacuum. My husband thinks I'm acting like a martyr. Yeah, ya think?

Martyr (Noun) -- one who suffers for a cause. YA THINK?!!

STFU

Want to know how many time a person can scream "Shut the feck up!" inside their head without screaming it out loud? You're going to have to trust me when I say, "A lot." Apparently, it's the wind's fault for turning the page back on The Boy's math book, causing him to work the wrong threee problems. Then it was my fault for grading what he did right and erasing the wrong problems so he could fix it. I'm a bully. And I have the cartoon to prove it. (The Boy is such an artiste.) He whines to me, "It's your fault. If you didn't make me angry, I would have finished my math by now." He finished one task today: a five sentence outline, fifteen words. I'm so unfair to him. He's giving up... STFU, boy!

Oh. No more cream sauce for me...

Ooh. Looks like we're going back on the meat-and-veggies again.

Heh, heh. Just for curiousity's sake, I stepped on the scale this morning. Wuh-oh. Apparently, I'm not built for cream sauce anymore. Or carbs. Or anything but meat and veggies. *sigh* I like cream sauce on pasta, but it turns out that I'm allergic to it -- it make me break out in lumps. ;)

In other news, I have new blueberry bushes to plant. Which means I need to fix the rain barrel, which means that I have to fix the gutter, which means I have to get out the step ladder and power drill. Instead, I spent the afternoon with the RoundUp Extended. That stuff's scary -- no planting anything for four months after spraying. eek.

My dad came for hamburgers on the grill as the weather continues to be perfect. The humidity's coming up, though. Tuesday morning's going to be a low of 67 degrees. We're getting another dry shot and severe weather Tuesday afternoon, but summer is definitely coming. boo! Boo!!

and pass the Alfredo sauce...

Cooking! Feh!

We've hit a tired stretch when it comes to dinner. Usually, the kids want three piles of food on their plates -- cow/pig/chicken, noodles/rice/potatoes, and a vegetable. This went on for years, but now The Boy is tired of it. He doesn't want to try anything new -- he's just tired of the old food. But if I have to eat one more piece of baked chicken with brown rice, I'm going to scream.

I've tried dressing up what we usually eat -- sauteed veggies in the rice, cheese sauce for the veggies, barbecue sauce on the chicken -- but it only makes it too spicy for The Boy, too gooey for The Husband, and too weird for The Girl.

I've been tired of the meat-n-potatoes diet for years, so lately I've been experimenting. I made crock pot pulled pork, pasta primavera with cream sauce, pizza pasta bake. Do they like it? No. If it's the least bit bland, The Girl won't eat it. If it's the least bit spicy, The Boy won't eat it. And after 20 years of marriage, I find out that The Husband doesn't like creamy sauces. I actually threatened them with hot dogs, and they all said, "Yay!!"

But the real kicker? The coup de grace? The real kick in the panties? Apparently, The Husband does not feel that it is his responsibility to clean up the kitchen when dinner is an experiment. Apparently, "fun" cooking must be washed by the person having the "fun".

When my family complains about the boring/weird food, I always ask, "What would you rather eat? What do you like to eat?" And you know what they say -- "I don't know." Tomorrow, "I don't know" may turn out to be scalloped potatoes with ham in the crock pot. Feck 'em. I'm eating cream sauce.

The old man is snoring...

It's raining here, which would be no big deal anywhere else in the country right about now. But here? It hasn't rained in about three weeks. Seriously, THREE WEEKS. I keep walking in from the garage and freaking out when I "hear" something frying!! Uh, sorry, that's the rain on the sidewalk. Again.

The Boy is down with a cold, which is impressive considering he never leaves the house if he can help it. *sigh* The Girl spends her days doing school work, watching TV, and asking if we can go to the science museum, which I can't do without taking The Boy. But there you have it. Life as we know it.

We're into the last twelve weeks of school. I know, I know, there *is* no "end of school" date when you homeschool, but we need goalposts. Big time. I laid it out for The Boy yesterday. You have six weeks of school, two weeks of vacation when The Aunts visit, then six weeks. If you stay on track, you'll be off by the 4th of July; otherwise, you'll be working into July. Your choice. ;) Anyone want to take bets on whether we'll get summer vacation?


In more interesting news, Trouble is brewing in The Husband's family. Tee hee. Those people put the "drama" in drama queen.

First, a little background is in order. The Husband's parents died about five years ago, leaving a small but dear little house to their six children, along with a little cash. The $60k was disbursed a few years ago, but the $60k house won't sell. Not that anyone really wants to sell it. See, in 1950 his parents bought a half acre and built a cellar to live in. After 10 years, they had saved up enough money to build the house on top, and they lived there until they died.

Anyway, the siblings agreed to give one of the nephews a five-year lease with an option to buy. Since he was married to his high school sweetheart and had a two-year-old boy, it seemed like a great way to sell it and keep it in the family at the same time. The hitch? He's now getting a divorce! Bwaa-haa!! Oh sure, his lease doesn't run out until December, and he might be able to afford a mortgage on his own, but does that stop the whining? Oh no, no, no. Mostly, it's the youngest (and least financially responsible) one who's causing trouble.

And the KICKER? We have a family reunion in May. The girls are coming down from Up North and meeting up with the boys who all live in the southeast. So they're travelling a long way to see us, we'll be driving up with them to see the three others -- to either get into a fight with the youngest or to be ignored by the youngest. Oh joy... When my family just can't provide enough drama to keep me happy, The Husband's family steps into the breach. Yeahh...

Hey, kid!! Yeah, you!

"Yer feckin' welcome!!"

Doesn't everyone have days where they want to scream this at the kids by 10:00 pm? Today, I've provided you with clean clothes, clean sheets on your freshly-made bed, three meals, sixteen snacks, hot and cold running water, comfy furniture, and entertainment. I provided you a safe, clean haven -- clean carpets, furniture, towels, bathroom, kitchen. You live in a safe neighborhood in a house with people who love you and understand your unusual neurological configuration. You are richly blessed.

So why won't you quit whining and complaining? Y'know, before I kill you?

spring "break" -- hah.

Well, we're on officially on spring break this week. Tragically, The Girl doesn't believe me. I'm thinking Michaelangelo did not have to stop painting to teach homeschool.

Seriously, I had big plans for my week's "vacation". It's only a vacation in the sense that I wasn't planning on teaching this week, but at least it was supposed to be a change of pace. I wanted to trim the shrubs, shampoo the carpets, paint The Girl's room. But so far, I haven't even been able to keep up with my chores. *sigh*

Maybe tomorrow, things will look up.