So tonight whilest I worked my husband went to Fry's

THANK GOD he went while I was at work. Seriously, I will never get those hours of my life spent in that store back. For him, Fry's is Nirvana, It 's like the store for me - a new surprise around every corner (though I doubt he'd like to roll around naked on the electronics like I do among the shoes)>

For the "unenlightened - or the blessed as I like to think - Fry's is a place that sells electronics, TV's build your own computers appliances - etc etc etc. It also sells a lot of crappy electronic junk, it's Radio shack on crack. I hate this place. It makes my head hurt and I want to lay down on the floor and cry at the mere thought of going here. you get upset, only spent $30."

I wasn't worried. He never spends more than $30 at Fry's. we don't buy real computer equipment there. we just by gadgets there. ALl of them cost about $30 and none of them work. I have a drawer full of crap that cost $30. There are wires and plug thingys and some things that look like the belong in a bad horror flick - all designed to make something else work faster or better or without whatever.

None of it works - but it fills the drawer nicely.

Today's purchase was an adapter that was supposed to plug into our iPods and charge them and transmit the songs over an FM radio station. That grey SUV driving around Little Elm at 10 PM - that was us. Trying out our $30 piece of crap. Mind you, we already have a plug thingy that docks the iPod in the car and plays it out of the auxilliary port. It works and I like. I also have a car charger for my iPod - it works. Neither of which I bought at Fry's.

As I type, he's outside, in the dark trying to make this thing work.

He needen't worry, I threw out a bunch of plugs a few weeks ago - we have room.

I have found my people

and they are calling me home.

Joey brought home a birthday party invitation yesterday for Saturday and I called to RSVP. The mom informed me that they will be celebrating at the WiggleTown Indoor Center. Would I be staying?

She sensed the hesitation in my voice and informed me that the play center has a liquor license.

This is brilliant - and answers my question - I knew Anthony Wiggle drank.

So now they want to tax sodas because kids are fat

and this will pay for universal health insurance. Seriously Mr. President. Put down Karl Marx and open your eyes.

Kids are fat because we make them fat. Taxing each can and bottle of non-healthy beverages isn't going to fix anything. Look at the great State of Texas. Sodas, chips, candy and other sweets have been banned from elementary campuses across the state and yet, The great state has some of the fattest kids in the nation.

Instead look at the guidelines set forth by the federal student lunch program. Those meals - deemed by the government experts of nutrition - are loaded with fat, carbohydrates, sodium and void of any nutritional value. Looking at how mouch kids throw away at lunch time leads me to believe the tatse is foul as well.

Tell me how a baked, breaded regurgitated chicken patty covered in gravy with white rice,corn, canned pears and flavored milk is healthy? Now feed your average kid that crap and then send them back to class. Take away recess and Pe because they are day wasters.

This is why our kids are fat.

If you want to truly make a difference - bring back recess and physical education - make them mandatory. Who cares if a kid is Left Behind when his Behind is as big as a house?

Revamp the federal lunch program with meals like those your daughters consume at their private school cafeteria.

So here we are - three months post having a GIRL

and the changes and differences are mazing.

This little girl has the household wrapped around her sweet dimpled fingers and she knows it and uses it to her cute baby advantage.

Her brothers adore her. They will do anything to make her smile and then argue about who cam=n or who did make her smile or laugh the biggest. This can be blood sport. The competition is fierce. It amazes me to see how the boys will knock each other around and then two seconds later coo and talk to their sister.

She uses this to her advantage. She can roll herself over now. This is an issue because she does not like to be on her tummy. So she rolls over and calls to her brothers - which ever one is closest. She cries - not a real "I'm unhappy and have tears" cry but a "Come help me because I want to see how fast you can dance attendance one me" cry. This works every time - multiple times in a row because she has learned boys are basically stupid when it comes to cute girls.

The relationship between Madaleine and her daddy is amazing as well. He loves her in a way that melts my heart. I dotes on her in ways that he didn't with the boys. She has to match and he cares about her hair (this could be also because she is the first to HAVE hair) and that she wears a diaper cover under her dress because no one can see her diaper - this cracks me up. He spends as much time in the baby girl section as I do - well almost. He told me the other day he was unsure about our world becoming a pink festooned world but it's grown on him.

I have an addiction - to cute little girl outfits - she needs them all - in every size with headbands and hair bows and shoes to match.

She completes us in ways that I didn't know we were missing.

She I think is going to be a lucky little girl. When she's Charles' age she's not going to be one of those girls who seeks out the attention of boys to make herself feel good because she has that from her brothers. She is never going to doubt that she nneds a boy to make her feel good about herself and that she is going to be good enough - rather boys are going to have to be good enough to her. She'll know how to play hard and dirty. She'll be rough and tough and feminine and girly at the same time.

She is indeed a lucky little girl.

So I Went to Hobby Lobby for Book Report Supplies

and while I was picking up some little thingies to go into a the project I started wondering - whatever happened to actually writing a book report? Charles has been in school nine years now and he has never once written a book report. He's made a sandwich out of story elements. He's created a movie poster about a book. He's even made a power point about a book but he has never once written an book report. He also has never written a term paper or essay and he's in the Pre AP program.

How do schools expect students to learn to write coherent thoughts? How does making a sandwich out of the plot, characters, main idea, and climax of a story teach children critical thinking skills? How will this help him get into college? How will he handle having to write that term paper in Freshman Comp?

I sit here and imagine the look on Dr. Pressman or Sister Anne's face as today's high school graduates attempt to turn a "story sandwich on War and Peace or Little Women. It make me laugh - visions of smoke coming out of the tape recorder of death - heh.

This is a Pre AP English class project - not a regular class - I can only imagine what those projects are like. And yet, as I look at the requirements for this summer's Pre AP Engllish project and thinks there are going to be a lot of upset 9th graders come August. How do teacher's expect kids to make a jump from regurgitation to ingurgitation and adaptation in a summer?

Ten years from now (holy crap I'm old) my child's boss is going to want an analysis of whatever and all he's going to be able to do is make a power point on the plot and main idea of his data.

Is the Sun ever going to shine again

How many more grey, humid days can we have? This is DALLAS - not Seattle.

So Last Night We Were Watching TV

and a commercial came on.

I know shocking a commercial - it was live TV even and I couldn't blast through it.

It was a coffee commercial (yeah I know me watching a coffee commercial).

The commercial was about sending their son off to college and leaving him with Folgers or Maxwell House or some pre ground swill and it being almost like home.

Eric looked at me, as I fed our baby daughter and asked if I was going to be ready for that in for years.

I snickered and then I stopped and thought.

In FOUR years - FOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUR years my first born will be a ready to graduate senior. He will have decided where he is going to start the his adult life. He will be getting ready to leave my nest and venture off to places unknown. He'll spread his wings and fly.

I looked down at the baby, in my arms and looked at the sprawled out teenager on the floor beside me and wondered where has the time gone?

In so many ways he is almost grown. His upper lip is sprouting the beginnings of a mustache - soon - really soon Eric will be teaching him to shave. Then he'll learn to drive. It seems like only yesterday he was my newborn. In the blink of an eye we are selecting high school courses and signing the baby up for the PSAT. He has a top three list of colleges. It seems like yesterday I was changing his diaper and worrying about his runny nose and praying he'd sleep through the night.

The commercial made me tear up. I can't imagine dropping off my child with 18 years of memories and treasures and driving away. Knowing, that when he comes home he'll be more like a visitor rather than a constant resident.

I look at the barrage of shoes and backpacks and baby gear strewn by the front door and know that soon - sooner than I'd like to admit and sooner than I think, I'll be wishing I had some one to yell at about hanging up your coat/hat/backpack. No one will be here but eric and I.

All too soon.

The Difference Between Men and Women

can be easily summed up in a TV commercial.

This morning while I was getting dressed, a commercial came on in the middle of the News at 9. The commercial asked me if I had a major issue finding space for my shoes.

Why yes, yes indeed I DO - it is a problem that weighs heavy on my heart.

The man in the commercial continued on - asking if I had ever had to decide which shoes to keep so I could by more.

This made me shudder at the thought of throwing one of my pretty precious pairs of shoes AWAY. I'd sell one of my children - well, not the girl, before I parted with a pair of shoes. But I saw the man's point - my shoe stacker thing is full and there is a mountain on the closet floor and another pile by the front door and some in the garage. I have a lot of shoes.

He asked if I was looking for a solution to my problem -

Indeed - I consider this problem right up there with national security, pig flu and the economy.

He then went on to convince me I NEEDED to call this magic number that flashed at the bottom of the screen.

I called that magic number and arranged for my very own closet design specialist to call. In less than two weeks and for a small some of cash - my shoes could all have a happy home off the floor with room for more.

Then I called my husband.

He laughed.

Not a hah ha funny laugh - but a humor-me-but-not-on your-shoe loving-life laugh.

So I called my mother.

She agreed with me.

Not because I was her daughter and she takes my side in such discussions. She agreed with me because I am the apple to her tree in the orchard of needing shoes. she convinced my father - who was the only man among three women for many many years - until mysister left home. Since we are a shoe loving group of women he built my mother a shoe caddy.

So I called my husband again - in an attempt to convince him Lowe's could solve all my problems.

He told me he had things to do.

This is the difference between men and women. Women need shoes and pretty things - men - well not so much.

Now, I am going to be forced to do something dirty and underhanded. I am going to teach the Princess Madaleine to say "Daddy" and use her evil daughter mind control over her daddy powers to get my shoe caddy. Because really - pretty shoes are a terrible thing to waste.