I'm featured in a magazine!

Check out this month's edition of Christian Fiction Online Magazine - a magazine that stands out from all the rest of the e-mags. The format is similar to a print magazine and is professional in appearance and quality.

Check it out! Read about your fave authors and their books and, well, check out the spotlight on little ol' me.

Mommy has a headache so...

I feel like someone's played "Whack a Mole" with my head, leaving my brain quivering in agony, and my neck feeling like a collapsed accordion.

Thunder and lightening commandeer the sky chasing me and The Booger inside.

I gotta lie down.

Next thing I know, tiny fingers grab my eyelids, pinching and pulling. "Mommy. Wake up. Mommy, why are you sleeping? You heads hurts? Are you sleeping?"

Someone's hands, probably mine, flail knocking the pincers away. Fearing a repeat attack, I cover my eyes with my hands.

My nose is twisted in an unnatural position. "Mommy, do you gots boogers? How 'bout snots? Hey Mommy, look. Look! I pulling your hair. Mommy, I'm pulling your hair."

Fanning my fingers ever so slightly, I brace myself for the next "incident." A brown eyeball hovers over my hand hole. "Mommy, are you in there?"

Air explodes from my lungs as a thirty pound toddler belly-flops on my tummy. "I'm not gonna bite your face, Mommy. I'm not."

"That's nice," I say covering my face as The Booger proceeds to lick me. Ew. I push him off. "Mommy's head hurts. She needs to rest a bit, okay?"

"Ohhh-kay. I gotta find my pick-up truck." Booger trots up the stairs. His voices bounces off the hall walls, "I foun' it!"

THUD! THUD! THUD! "Brrrrrrrrr, mmmmnnnnnrrrrrrrr. Mommy, your airms are roads. Mmmmneeeer. Motorcyles race up Mommy's arms, over her nose, down other side."

"Leave me alone!" Plastic motorcycles fly through the air. I cross my arms over my face.

"Ohhh-kay. I listen to thunder noise. God's playing the drums."

Peace.

"Mommy! I make you feel better. Take your medicine." My right eyelid is torn back and a plastic object is shoved into my eyeball. Screaming I swat. "No, Mommy, you need to take your medicine!"

"Eyeballs don't take medicine," I sit up and grab his arms. "Booger, that hurts!"

"Your nose. What about your nose. Your nose takes medicine."

My hand shoots out like a striking rattle snake deflecting the doctor toy (the thingie they use to look in your ears) headed for my nose.

"Ohhhkayy." A plastic thermometer is shoved in my ear. "I take your temperature, Mommy. You have a fever."

By this time not only my head hurts, but my eyeball is throbbing and my ear stinging. The phone rings. It's John asking me to find a phone number. I sum up the past few minutes of torture and feel something rush up my leg.

A motorcycle.

"Mommy, the motorcycle is gonna get stuck on your butt."

Lovely.

Mommy has a headache so let's go ahead and take her mind off her head by making other body parts hurt.

Anyone want to buy a kid?

Disclaimer: For anyone considering calling child protective services over my last sentence... Don't. It's a JOKE. Like, I'm gonna sell the Booger on Ebay. Seriously?

Murder of music

I know my title is pretty extreme, but depriving kids of music is downright criminal.

Recently I lost my job as a color guard instructor. Not because I rotted at my job, but because school administrators didn't think music programs were important. I'd been at that school for eight years and feel like I'm grieving a death.

Below is a letter written to administration by a middle school parent. Permission to print and circulate this letter has been granted by the parent.

What A Loss 5/11/09

Today was the day I attended the last concert for my son’s middle school band at the Sheridan High School. The district decided to cut music from the school’s program from both the Middle School and the High School. All I could think of the whole time as we sat and listened, and then as we drove home afterward was, “What a Loss”. What a loss for those 20+ kids who practiced diligently and went faithfully to class each day to learn to read music and to play on an instrument. What a loss for the instructor who is so dedicated to instilling music into those kids, and what a loss for the parents, friends and family of all those kids sitting in the audience who will no longer have the enjoyment, pride and happiness that comes with seeing a child learn music.

Music is such a vital part of our everyday lives and has so many affects on a person’s all around being. A simple song can spark a memory and take you back to years and years in your past and bring forth a feeling inside a person of a time in their life that brought joy, sorrow, love or even laughter into their life. To take this gift away from not only the students of Sheridan, but the families of the students, the teachers, the staff and the community as a whole, to me, is such a great loss.

My oldest son graduated from Sheridan High School and was a dedicated musician to the Sheridan music programs and when I think back to all of the memories of those years, I cannot even tell you the disappointment that I feel. When I think of how many kids (my second son included.) will no longer have the opportunity to learn music or to have the memories of school with music all around them, all I can say is “What a loss.”

What will there be now to replace the music? HOW can you replace the music? Who will lead the Sheridan Day’s Parade? The Homecoming Parade? Who will play at the bon fires and basketball games? Who will play at the Pep Rallies and school assemblies? Who will play concerts for their parents and Christmas carols? Who will play for the school musicals? Who will play for the football, baseball, soccer, volleyball teams or wrestlers when they bring home the state championships? Who will play at the graduation ceremonies when our Sheridan students receive their diplomas?

Will you simply play a radio or a CD? Is that what this has come down to? Replacements? Can’t you see that you not you are not only replacing the music but you are replacing feelings, memories and most importantly, you are replacing PEOPLE.

When I think of the years and years of band competitions for marching band, jazz band and winter percussion that made so many students, parents, teachers and the whole Sheridan community so proud of what these kids from a small little community could accomplish, all I can think is – What a loss.

I pray there is some way to bring back the music programs of Sheridan. I want to hear the children’s music. If all we have, is to spend all of these events in years to come listening to a radio, CD’s or even worse, SILENCE, again I say, “What a Loss”.

Yvette Medina (Sheridan Middle School Parent)

Last week I was hired to teach color guard at Columbine High School. I'm excited about the opportunity, but my heart goes out to all the kids who'll never put their lips to a horn, sticks to a drum or hands on a flag.

Inconspicuous to mugglers?

Part of the whole geocaching thing is being inconspicuous. Don't want muggles to see where the caches are hidden so they can go steal or destroy it.

Pretty easy if you're in the woods, surrounded by rocks and trees. You can hide, or people think you're taking a breather or basking in the view.

In the city it's a different story.

There's this pesky cache titled "Duck Tape" that's located in strip mall retail area. Not many places to hide a micro cache (about the size of a film canister). Thinking I was oh-so clever, I wondered if the name of the cache was a clue. Did I have to duck down to find the darn thing?

Here I am with a orange drink sucking tyke following me around saying, "I wanna go home, Mommy. Do we have to geocache? There's no toys here."

If that wasn't bad enough, bending down with my big bottom up in the air toward passersby had to be the weirdest thing those people have seen in a long time. "Honey, why is that lady feeling around under the electrical box on the side of the store? Gee her butt is big!"

I'm amazed I wasn't arrested.

Not for suspicious behavior, but for grossing out people in cars and kids on skateboards.

Duck. Tape. I tried the "bottom's up" thing and am still scratching my head.

It was only my second attempt to find it. On the log, there are folks who went back seven times!

Wonder if they waggled their bottom round to the innocent folks at Mission Trace.

(My chiropractor's office was facing me and my butt. I'm so glad she didn't look out of her office and see me.)

Tired, tired oh so tired

You know you're tired when your nose gets stuck between the "g" and "h" keys on the keyboard.

You know you're tired when your son stands in front of you with yellow socks and yells, "Come on Mommy, to the dishwasher! I peed!" and you don't care.

You know you're tired when it's a gorgeous 78 degrees outside - you have two free hours - and you wish you could just crawl into bed.

You know you're tired when you don't feel like getting into the car and driving to a nearby geocache that everyone's raving about (Duck Tape).

You know you're tired when you stare at Twitter and wonder... why?

You know you're tired when picking up your tooth brush causes your arm to tremble under strain.

You know you're tired when you see/hear something funny and can't remember how to laugh.

Know know you're tired when you have homicidal thoughts toward anyone who talks excitedly about an upcoming vacation.

You know you're tired when you have to abandon a room of your house to floor-collapsing piles of laundry.

You know you're too tired when you don't know the difference between Desitin and toothpaste.

You know you're tired when you're writing a blog entry and forget what you're writing about... like now...