One of my favorite bits of conversation I’ve had lately came from my aunt in Minnesota who is ten years older than I am. She, my sister (who is eight years younger than myself) and I, were chatting about teen pregnancy and how the times have changed.

How does one talk about, uh, you know…

My aunt said, “I think you need to play ‘Paradise by the Dashboard Light’ and then say, ‘Okay, here is where you use the condom.”

I laughed, but then I was listening to my IPod on shuffle when I got home and “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” by Meatloaf popped on. I listened to it with fresh ears, looking for it’s hidden teachable moment.

Listen below to see if you can find out where one should use prophylactics.

meatloaf-paradise-by-the-dashboard-light.mp3

Of course when I was a teen, when I started the whole “Before we go any further do you love me….” bridge, the young man’s response was usually, “Um, not that much.” So that little part of the song became a litmus test for many years.

Of course, after looking at a picture Meatloaf, maybe the girl should have been the one “praying for the end of time.”

Perky…

I made the giant leap to chop the old hair today. I like it but I’m wondering it is a poor match for my personality. Oh, well, hair grows.

Normal.

Too young of a cut or too soccer mom? Either way I suppose it’s presentable for a 35 year old.

I got a cool new header that cracks me up. Thanks to my dear husband.

I suppose this means I should blog more. I suppose I will since I am not drinking myself to sleep everynight. (A slight exaggeration, but close.)

I just got back from two much needed get-aways. I made video footage for them, and posted it. I updated my Facebook (it’s where all the cool kids hang out.)

Hmmm. I might actually start blogging more. Maybe.

Unless Zach choses to stick half his toy collection down the air vent again. Maybe that’s why it’s always so cold in this room.

Has anyone patented a Pre-School straight jacket for moms who want to look at the computer?

Emma and Zach

Zach and Adie

I’ll upload more later….

Last weekend we spent two nights at The Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. We took a ghost tour, because it is suppose to be haunted. Here are a few “creepy” pictures that had weird orbs or light streaks through them that were not there in real life. Also, check out the writing at the top of the attic stairs. 

Here is my brief story. On the ghost tour we were watching the tour guides skirt to see if she could coax the ghoast children to move it. No one was behind me but I felt a strong tug on the back of my shirt. I mentioned it to the tour guide who later asked me “Are you a nurse or a teacher.” I said that I was a teacher. She told me that one of the ghost children wanted to “Thank you for helping those who cannont help themselves.” Later after the tour ended she asked me what grade I taught. I told her I was a pre-school teacher. “Wow. Everyday I get more and more confirmation,” is all she creepily added. After all, she did call herself Scary Mary. 

I’m not sure what I think, since I am a bit of a skeptic. I do believe there is something up there. I felt a lot of static or magnetic energy. Booohaahhaaaahaaa! Here are the pictures.

Check the flicker link on the side of the blog to see more…IF YOU DARE!!

So, as a parent, if you’ve ever wondered what the words you use sound like in the ears of a child, say them to a three year old. A few hours, days or weeks later, they will be repeated back to you, inflection and all.

Some things said to me this weekend by Zach:

“Hurry up Mommy, or we are going to leave without you.”

“You need to calm down and take a nap.”

“Don’t say ‘no’ to me.”

“What do you say?” (Insert magic word)

At first, I was a little put off, but now I’m getting pretty good at dealing with the new parrot in my home. Frankly, I don’t sound too bad. At least he isn’t reading my mind and repeating what I sometimes think in my head, such as:

“Stop jumping on the couch you little brat.”

“I understand now why some animals eat their young.”

“You have no idea how close I am to violence.  Be afraid, little boy, be very afraid.”

Of course, these are fleeting thoughts that make me feel guilty even as I type this, but still. I’m getting much, much better at using my mommy censor.

My feet have been killing me so at lunch the other day, I finally broke down and bought a pair of super comfy Anne Klien sneaker-hybrid shoes.

They feel glorious.

Unfortunately, when I came back, I was the only one not wearing flip flops or skimpy shoes.

Both bathrooms were flooded. Our janitor was on vacation. Do you see where this is headed?

I ended up spending 20 minutes plunging and mopping the bathrooms.

My poor new shoes. Luckily it was “clear water” and no floating extras if you know what I mean. 

So now that I teach the after school Kindergarten sessions, I’m noticing some differences between five and two -year olds.

Number one being: the new game of doctor is now massage therapist.

These massage therapists are more like the ones on 80s soap operas, not like the real life ones. They tend to conduct their massages under picnic tables. And I am now on serious massage therapist patrol during outside time. No butt massages on my watch!! Neva, eva, eva!

According to my enlightened co-workers, this behavior is pretty normal for this age group. Kids have a brief interest in the opposite sex around this age. It doesn’t truly re-appear until somewhere in the tweens, where it usually manifests as something pretty harmless.

 They never mentioned this in the description of Kindergarteners hand out in my class last year. One of the many things a Master’s degree does not prepare you for.