Catching a Break...Or Not

Yesterday, Emma came home from school and I started going through her folder. Her spelling test was in there so I took a look. "A" 93%... Being the spelling bee that I was (am), I have a lot of interest in this so I see she has spelled the word "help", "hlep". So I yell for her, "Emmaaaa..."

And she yells back from the other room, "I know, I know, I know! I moved my crayon today. Marcus and Harrison both sit next to me though and talk."

"What does that have to do with you?"

"I talk back to them."

So I look at her calendar where her teacher either gives them a smiley face if they didn't have to move their crayon because they were good/listened all day, a straight face if they move it once, a squiggly face if they move it twice, and a sad face if they've been terrible. She's had a couple straight faces, once for playing in the restroom and the other time for pinching Marcus. He pinched her, she pinched him, he pinched her again harder and she told on him so they both had to move their crayon. The lesson? If you pinch someone back, you can't tell on them. Whatever. Anyway, Emma had a smiley face yesterday.

So I go back to her room where she is to tell her that she had a smiley face and that I was just calling for her because she spelled "help" wrong.

She smiles and says, "Oh. Weeeellllllll, my teacher decided to give me a little.....break, I guess."

I love that kid.

Leathers Language

Last night Emma and I were watching Glee. Scott ridicules me over and over about it, but I don't care. 

Emma loves Glee. She loves the singing and dancing and is mesmerized by it. I love that she loves it. What I don't love is when they say words like slut, knocked up, and "what the hell are you doing". Especially when Discouraging Scott walks by. I don't like it either, and I'm trying to figure it out. She doesn't watch it all the time, and about 15 minutes before it was for-real over I pretended it was over and turned it off...shortly after Sue shouted, "What the hell are you doing?" and the two cheerleaders got in a knock down-hair pulling-school hallway fight.

Fine, Scott wins.

Until...Emma started singing Billionaire. "Freaking" isn't a great word for a 6 year old. On Kids Bop 18 they say "very" instead of "freaking". "Let's go with that," I tell Emma. She doesn't go for it. Then, she says, "How about if I say, 'So f-ing bad...'"
"No, I don't want to hear anything sounding like f-ing or freaking coming out of your mouth."
She doesn't stop until finally I threaten to put soap in her mouth if I ever hear her say it again.
Done.

On another note...  Olivia's new word is "doobies." It's what we call our boobies in the Leathers house. Compliments of 2 year old Emma.

Weekend Warrior

I spent this past weekend in Illinois...in the beautiful, 75 degree FALL weather, away from the 95 degree fake Alabama Fall weather.With no kids and no husband.  

Going to Northern Illinois in the Fall is tricky. It makes you think really wonderful things about the Midwest. All of a sudden I forgot about the -20 degree winters. And I forgot about the short summers. But that's what Fall does. It makes you like the Midwest.

I had a great weekend with friends and family. We started the weekend right away. Friday night we went to the Rockford Market. If you live in Rockford and haven't gone yet, you're missing out. Finally, they are making something out of the downtown, and for once, I felt like Rockford actually may be doing something right. Saturday I visited with my cousins and aunts, and I realize now why my 31 week pregnant with twins cousin is on bed rest. After 4 hours of visiting, we were all shouting over each other and at each other. All in love, of course. Saturday night friends and I went to the Cubs/Brewers game in Milwaukee, which I'm pretty sure that collectively, the 9 of us girls, probably saw about 5 minutes of the game. Holy commotion. Sunday I attended my friend's wedding in Chicago. It was a beautiful day and again, made me miss home. Boo. Hoo.

So I was driving home from the airport Monday night, appreciating Alabama's 70 mph speed limit when I remembered that I have a parking ticket in Chicago from when I was there in June. I received a parking ticket on Lake Shore for parking in a no parking zone during rush hour. I contested it (of course) because it was Memorial Day! There is no rush hour on Memorial Day! So I contested it and forgot about it...until two days ago. I never heard back from anyone. Does this mean I am in the clear? Or am I wanted in Chicago? Here's the problem. I have a teensy weensy flash of memory of receiving a letter regarding a ticket I contested and yelling to Scott, "I won! I won!" I can't remember if that was from this ticket or if it was another ticket I had contested for not having a front license plate when I was parked outside the Chicago Diner.

No wonder people don't drive in the city. So many rules.

A Cry For Help

I'm still addicted to television.

It's depressing, definitely pathetic, and Scott is complaining that I don't communicate very well.

That's because I don't have anything to talk about, I tell him. The stuff that goes on in my life lately isn't really real. And it's kind of embarrassing.

Now if you want to talk about the Bachelor Pad (which makes me feel dirty, and not in a good way) I have a lot to say. I hate watching this show. It's TV that makes me feel bad watching it. The only good person on that show was Gia, and they voted her off. The girls are so stupid and they trust those guys way too much. They're all pathetic and super dumb and I get a bad feeling inside when I watch it. But I continue to do so.

Master Chef? I love Gordon Ramsay so much that he has made a debut on my Top 5 Favorite Men In My Life list. And I don't even really know him. Well, possibly I do know him...he doesn't know me. (I told you it's pathetic.) I'm the biggest cheerleader for these amateur chefs. I was a little disappointed last night when they had to kill a crab by boiling it alive. I'm a vegetarian who eats seafood, but after last night, I can't even eat that anymore. If only chocolate had to be killed...

Don't get me started on those Kardashians. Once I was so mad at Kourtney for taking back that idiot loser Scott, I looked online for a way to tell her how stupid she is and that she can do better than that stupid jerk who is so obviously using her. I didn't though. I regained control and realized how ridiculous this would be.

Glee has me feeling like a teenager. I tried to get Emma into it so I could at least blame it on her, and contribute it to "mother/daughter time"...it worked for a little while, but then school got in the way. She hates school, and I'm starting to hate it, too.


And I'm afraid that people like Chelsea Handler and Jeff Lewis reinforce bad behavior and serious sarcasm by me. They make me a worse person. And I don't even really mind it.

Now I am going to go get a life.

No, I'm not.