NOLA Culture: High School

Here in New Orleans when someone asks you where did you go to school, you better reply with what high school you attended.  If you reply with a college, we will know you are an outsider.  I went to public school and that is something that I keep to myself.  This is a city of Catholic and private schools.  If you want to be included in certain circles you keep your public school education to yourself.

Being from New Orleans and going to public school, my dream was that my kids would go to private school.  And if the people I have been talking to are any indication, my kids’ dream will be that their kids go to the high school they went to.  Cycle continues.

Amber moved to a Catholic school at third grade. Before that she went to a private school without a religious affiliation.  It was an adjustment for both of us.  She was entering a school where most of the students had been together since they were 3 yrs old.  Now on our 2nd year and Sam joining the school we are in the groove.  Our  newness still comes through on occasion, but that should wear off in a year or 2.  As one mom reminded me, I have 7 years at this school.  I can’t be new forever, right?

What I didn’t expect was the high school talk to start so soon.  You see around 5th grade the kids start looking at high schools.  And from what I am hearing it sounds like the experience that most kids looking at colleges go through.  Amber started her talk of which high school she picked last year in third grade.  As far as I can tell, she had some catching up to do with the other girls.  It scares me.  All the what ifs come flooding in and I am left in a corner sweating clutching brochures to high schools.

Amber has expressed her preference and it seems to be the preference of the majority of girls and moms at the school. It is the “IT” school.  So the talk begins, “Hey Amber, if you want to go to that high school, you better make sure you study.”  ”AMBER!  They don’t accept girls who act like that to that high school.”  I have found the new version of the Santa threat.  Of course, all this perks Amber’s ears for a nanosecond and then she goes back to avoiding that 800 page Harry Potter book she just had to read for her AR test that is coming up in 3 days.

I don’t need this stress.  Public school was simple.  Oh you live there?  You go here.  Sure there were knife fights in the playground and you learned to hold your bladder all day for fear of what might befall you in the bathroom, but, at least, you didn’t have to worry about getting into the perfect high school.  You went to the school you were told and you fell into line like everyone else. There was no worrying about the perfect high school leading you to the perfect Louisiana University (subtle, eh) and all of that leading you to the perfect job where you will lead the perfect life and live happily every after.  One false move and the delicate house of cards based on the right school since birth will come tumbling down and their lives will be doomed forever.  See the pressure I am under.  I just started to relax after my world wind tour of every Catholic elementary school on both sides of the river and now I am back to panic mode.  The happiness of my kids’ lies in my hands.  One false move and they will be living in my house forever and I will never have my dream of a kid home where I get to do what I want and the house stays clean.  Parenting in NOLA is hard, y’all.

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Netflix vs the Movie Rental Store

Netflix has pissed me off for the last time.  My only regret is that I didn’t cancel them completely at the end of August.  Netflix was a great concept, then they got cocky.  Yeah, yeah, you are going to tell me that movie producers and God forced their hand to jack up prices.  Or that they are having contract troubles and that is why their streaming sucks so hard.  I call bullshit.  I think Netflix is big enough that they have some power.  However, I really don’t care.  I maybe the lowly consumer, but I have some power, too.  And that power is to cancel Netflix and go old school.

I am old enough to remember going to the movie rental store.  It was so exciting.  We got to walk up and down the aisles choosing which movie we wanted to see.  Then we would race right home and watch it.  Times were good and I was young without the responsibility of getting the movie back in time to avoid a late fee.  As I got older, life’s checklist got longer and time got shorter, which meant late fees got more expensive.

SoHubby and I decided we would just buy movies.  At some point, most movies make it to the $5 bin.  That, my friends, is a long wait.  Us, being part of this fast paced, I had to have it yesterday world, that didn’t work for us.  Then we heard about this great company, Netflix.  You mean they would deliver movies to our house?  There was no special return date?  There was only one low price?  Hot damn!  Sign us up.  And we had a good relationship for awhile.

Suddenly, Netflix started to see it’s stock rise (literally and figuratively) and in my opinion got too big for their britches.  However, my love affair with Netflix started to wane when we went down to the 1 movie and streaming offer.  SoHubby would go on the website and clog up our queue with crap movies.  Movies that at that moment he would have watched, but would forget about by the time they made it to our house.  Here is the journey of a Netflix delivered to the Southern household: Movie arrives in the mail.  Movie is either retrieved from mailbox that night or the next morning.  Movie would then end up in my mail pile. I would get around to my mail pile sometime that day or the next day.  I open movie, say a little curse over it, because it would most likely be a dumb shoot ‘em up movie that SoHubby ordered and place it ontop of the TV or mantel.  Days would go by.  Days turned into weeks.  Weeks turned into a month.  When all of a sudden I spied with my little eye that little red envelope.  Then another curse as I held it up for all to see asking, “How the hell long has this been sitting here.  When are you going to watch this crap, so we can send it back and get a real movie?”  So as you can see folks, Netflix is genius.  They have developed a company where  men and women pay to fight via movie queue and have a little red envelope sits ontop of the TV for a month or longer  Don’t get me started on that crap they call streaming.  Half the time the movie wouldn’t play all the way through without several stops and starts.  Oh but that is our fault, why don’t you upgrade your WiFi.  Yeah, why don’t you bite my….be nice, now.  Then there was no rhyme or reason to the streaming.  One day a top movie would be on there, the next day some D flick you would have to pay me to watch would have taken it’s place.

After the whole rate hike, I was miffed.  I was calmed down with reasons like they had to do it, poor, poor Netflix.  Okay, we can understand the plight of the business when faced with things out of their control.  The dumb move came in when they decided to divide up the streaming side and the DVD side.  Um…exsqueeze me?  Dildo say what?  You expect me to bookmark an entirely different website to put DVDs in my queue?  Oh hell, NO!  I was done, but what could I do.  I wasn’t going to do that Redbox thing.  You want me to do what with my credit card and then you will do what?  Sorry, maybe it is my age, but I am getting the feeling that technology needs to calm down for a bit.  I thought I could just go down to my local Blockbuster.  Oh, but wait!  All the Blockbusters were run out of town by the evil, yet genius Netflix.  Then a light shone over me and the angels sing.

You see I live in a village, next to a couple of small towns.  And one thing that I am constantly told about these small towns and villages is that we are a bunch of hicks that don’t move with the times.  So guess what?  There is a Blockbuster right down a very long highway, but it is there just waiting for us to choose when to get a movie and forces us to watch that damn movie that night to avoid late fees.  The best part is it seems busy, very busy, which means maybe it will stay long enough to build up it’s force, again.   Who is having the last laugh, now?  Well, not the clerk at my local Blockbuster when I told her all this.  Maybe she didn’t appreciate my fine storytelling skills.  Maybe she wasn’t interested?  Nah, that couldn’t be it.  Or maybe she just wanted to get on with her life and didn’t care why the hell I found myself at the Blockbuster with my over energized spawns.  But I felt good.  I finally got to see The Black Swan and go WTF along with everyone else.  I even promised the kids that we could go back on Friday to rent movies and maybe some Wii games.  Then they ran around like I told them Santa Clause was coming to live with us and set up shop in the backyard.  And now my life has come full circle.  We will be release from our prison of the little red envelope back to the freedom of the movie rental store and wait for our implantation of our movie chips.

 

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StoryLand

We went on our first summer playgroup with MOPs.  I am so happy to have found this group, through our great Special Instructor from Early Steps.  Not only do we have things to do during the summer, but we have met so many great women and kids.

I do love going to Storyland.  You get to run from one fairytale to the next right there in the middle of New Orleans.

First stop is always the pirate ship.
I asked Sam who he was, thinking that he may say Jake from Jake and the Neverland pirates.
Instead he said “CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW!”

You don’t get more whimsical then a fish riding a bicycle.
I do have to wonder why it was outside of the bathroom.

How great is it to take cover under a giant mushroom.
If you look closely, you will see that Amber has picked up on making
weird faces in pictures from her teenage aunt.
*sigh*

My favorite picture of the day.

Club Castle.
All the bounce music the anklebiter set can stand.

Taking a breather in the coolest spot in the whole place.

A break with an old friend.
We are not sure why he had that woman under him.
Of course, we didn’t ask. We wouldn’t want to be rude.
Also, we thought he was potty trained by now, but I wouldn’t mention it
if I were you.

The day ended around this point, because I just couldn’t take the whining about the heat, anymore.  Yes, we all know that we live on the surface of the sun, but most of us have accepted it and have moved on.  I guess Sam is not quite there, yet.

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Don’t Mess with Me, Granny!

Carpool is a scary place, especially for the new mom.  I remember sitting in the theater at Amber’s old school receiving the directions for carpool.  It was like listening to the flight attendant give detail directions on how to save your life when the plane goes down because you knew the fly was going down.  I couldn’t follow what they were saying.  I was sweating.  What are they talking about?  I am going to go in where, park over where and pick up who at what time?  It was confusing and my head hurt.  Then the first day of school arrived and I fell in line like everyone else.  This was easy.  Or so I thought.  There is way more to carpooling that can’t be taught, but learned on the job.

The first few days of carpool were easy, because everyone was on their best behavior.  No one rushed.  We all made sure to take our time and watch out for our precious little snowflakes as they made their way into the building.  After about a month, it got really hairy.  As we all fell into our routine, some of us thought that we didn’t need to rush so we might have hit the snooze button one too many times.  This resulted in a few kids learning what quick reflexes meant and a few parents saying a few unsavory words.  Sorry, but when you almost hit my kid in the school parking lot, because you are late for work, you deserve to hear a few unsavory words and maybe a hand gesture or two.  This is tricky, though.  Today’s ignorant asshole in the carpool line is tomorrow’s homeroom mom.  That is an encounter you don’t want to have.  You don’t want to be stuck on a treasure hunt that leads you deep into the swamp for that one special item that the homeroom mom just has to have for the class party.  All because you cursed her out during carpool, because she clipped your precious on their way into school.   Trust me on that one.  I have learned to keep myself in check and  keep the road rage to a minimum, when in the carpool line.  Keep in mind that I am not perfect.

Then Amber started at a Catholic school.  A Catholic school that uses a public residential street for their carpool routine. We received reminders on carpool procedures, but there was a little something extra this time around.  We were reminded to not engage in Unchristian like behaviors.  Ooooooookay.  We were to remember that we had to respect those that lived around the school.  Let me stop here and explain the neighborhood around Amber’s school.  It is upper scale area and there are some elderly living in the area, who mostly go to the school church.  Also, the school has to be careful, because neighbors don’t take kindly when schools want to expand, which ours did with the new church.  Although, I don’t think you can really pin that onto the school, but the neighbors don’t see it that way.

I had done well, until today.  No big issues.  Everyone was always very cordial when allowing 2 lanes of cars to merge into the one lane of carpool.  Of course, there are a few parents that feel they have to get their kids as fast as humanly possible so they may not let you merge.  That is okay, because I am usually not in a hurry  and let’s face it, God will get them for their Unchristian like behavior.  I have always remembered to go the speed limit and watch for the walkers while driving through the hood.  I never parked on anyone’s grass (Heaven forbid) and if someone couldn’t pass (we have very small streets with very large vehicles) I was more than happy to give up my spot and go around the block.  Another point that is an obstacle is there is always some construction or landscaping going on which means more large vehicles taking up more space on small streets.

Today was the day I could have easily thrown down my Christian behavior and got very Unchrisitan in the carpool line.  It was early dismissal, which I am sure messes with the plans of the residents.  On top of that a side street was closed due to some construction/parish work going on.  We were all waiting in the carpool line and it was at a complete stop.   Not that unusual.  It takes some time for the kids to get down from class.  I take this time to catch up with Twitter.  Here is where I can hear SoHubby telling me how I need to pay attention, blah, blah, blah.  Then there is a rap on my window.  This rap belonged to a very pissed off old lady.  She is telling me to move up and straighten out.  Huh?  Wha?  There was hardly any room between me and the car in front of me, besides the line of cars behind me.  I pull up as far as I can, which seemed to piss her off more.  She is shouting at me to straighten out and what is wrong with me.  Now, I am pissed, because where the hell am I suppose to go.  Last time I checked my SUV didn’t have wings.  Here is where I say a few Unchristian things…in my car…with the window rolled up.  Why?  Because 1. I am still scared of Catholic school officials.  There may not be any nuns, anymore, but the Fear of God is still there.  2. As mean as dirt as this woman was, she was old, so not really a fair fight. and 3. I don’t need anything else to make me known as “That Mom!”.  I can do that by just being myself.

I pulled up to the curb and watch the chaos unfold in my rearview mirror.  Old lady had another old lady with her, with whom she was bitching with…at…who knows.  Old lady was then caught by surprised when she saw that the street leading her out of this hell of school children and their parents was blocked.  Oh yeah, I had a little chuckle and a take that….to myself.  This woman had no where to go, but in line with the rest of us carpoolers.  That alone gave me some satisfaction.  I will be honest, though, I had had a long day, not too happy with leaving a group of moms to pick up my child early (early dismissal seems to always land on my MOPs days) and I just wanted to lay into this woman.  Why did she pick me?  There was a long line of cars that she could have set her sights on.  Where the hell was she going in such a hurry?  I figure by the time I am that age, I really don’t care when I get somewhere and other people can wait for me.  The biggest question was what did she say when she got in the car and realized that she was still stuck like Chuck in the DAMN CARPOOL LINE?  HA!  HA!  Maybe it is okay if your Unchristian like behavior remains in your head for your own enjoyment.

Never underestimate routine days as a mom.  Around every corner there is something waiting to shake up your day.  Just make sure you don’t end up in the parish jail, because you needed to teach an old lady a lesson.  And of course, you need to always maintain your mom reputation.  You don’t ever want to be the subject of THAT conversation where you are THAT mom.  You will, however, want to be invited into that conversation so you can learn all about THAT mom and how to stay out of her way.

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Dear People Without Children Who Stand in Judgement of Parents,

I know you are just horrified.  I mean how could I grab that sweet little boy’s arm and demand that he straighten up and take a damn picture in front of the giant Santa Claus, already.  Surely if the poor abused child doesn’t want to take a picture he shouldn’t be made to, right?  WRONG!!  You insensitive ignorant asshole.

Oh I see your looks as I pass you with my brood in the grocery store, Target, and at the restaurant.  Hell, you have even asked to be moved to another table when you saw us sit at the table next to you.  Really that is fine.  I would rather not look at your pinched grumpy ass while I enjoy my meal, either.  And I guess you are free to have your judgment, but you may be sorry for any remark regarding my parenting  I may hear in passing,  because you may just find yourself riding home with a small ornery boy next to you.  You think I am kidding just test me on the wrong day and see what happens.

Let me explain to you the events leading up to the Santa Claus picture meltdown.  First there was the requirement that he eat one chicken tender.  A chicken tender which he asked for and has eaten a million times before.  Oh wait, before that there was the major angst of where was Daddy going to sit and why was he sitting on the left side and not the right, but when it was suggested that Daddy could sit on the right side instead of the left a meltdown ensued.  After the chicken tender negotiation of 2010, there was the ice cream treaty of 2010.  The terms were that one chicken tender be eaten, in order, to receive the ice cream that would bring peace to the table.  Sadly, even though the treaty was passed and all terms agreed upon, one party didn’t follow through with their end of the deal while the other party had already handed over the rewards.  Hey, if the American federal government never learns how can war weary parents be expected to?

While in the car there was much thrashing and whining, because when asked if this was the place with the snow we had to sheepishly say no.  There was the nasty business of business to be taken care of, you know so there would be a roof over our heads and food for our bellies.  Finally, we made it to the location that has had the children all excited since I made the announcement the minute before we left.  Hey, I have learned and retained some things along the way.   Another meltdown would occur because we, parents, dared to ask the children to please remove themselves from the middle of the street so they wouldn’t DIE!!!

Once we reached Fulton street I started with the picture taking.  I mean the torture I put my children through.  Then the grabbing of private areas quickly happened and bathrooms needed to be found or else pay the price of crying children in wet britches.  After the longest trip to the bathroom in history, because of the lack of a changing tabl,e the girls and I come out to find that the soap snow started to blow.  There was the ceremony of chasing small children to capture these lovely memories, DAMMIT! (This whole memory business is a catch 22.  The kids don’t want their picture taken.  Well, Sam doesn’t.  The girls are pretty cooperative. Yet when they are order and there is only 3 photos of said kid off to therapy to talk and pay thousands of dollars to learn that mom just didn’t care enough to capture said memories.) Then there was the common sense suggestion that maybe the children shouldn’t eat items that they don’t exactly know what they are.  Next would be keeping an eye on children going this way and that.  My eyes simply don’t move in those directions.   As we decided it was time to go,  we knew that we needed just one picture with the giant Santa.  Here is where I must get between my husband and my son.  I lovely say pick your battles, dear and lovely suggest that maybe Sam doesn’t want a picture of Santa giving birth to him.   Massive, explosive meltdown from both parties and where you (people who just know that you would be much better parents than us and would NEVER in your life push your special snowflake to do anything they don’t want to do.  YOUR children would be able to make all their own decisions.  Yeah, let me know how that works out for ya.) enter to pass judgment as I pull my son by his arm and firmly talk in his ear that maybe he better adjust his attitude before mom goes off the deep end.

As we are all passing judgment here and pretending to know everything I have a bit of advice for you all-knowing-better-than-any-living-parent-but-have-never-raised-a-kid person.  I suggest you stand back and let us, parents, do our job, because  what seems to be our harsh puinshment today is your avoided home invasion/vandalism/nasty teenager encounter (okay, I will admit we can’t exactly eradicate all of these.) later.  Instead quietly thank us with a small smile and go about your business, because while I restrain myself with my children YOU won’t be so lucky.

P.S. To the mother behind me in the N.O. Hamburgers line who told the cashier that I have 3 kids and can handle carrying all the cups myself, I say shut your trap.  1. I was going to carry all the cups myself. 2. I go out to eat so someone else can wait on me for a change and 3. While I know you were joking, I WAS. NOT. IN. THE. MOOD!

Sincerely,

One very tired can’t wait for school to start SoutherMom of 3

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The BIG Sesame Street Giveaway!

*GIVE AWAY IS NOW CLOSED. Drawing is in process.  Good luck, everyone!

*Remember: To be eligible to win the tickets you need to post a comment on this post.  It doesn’t matter what your comment is about, just as long as it is on this post. *

There will be singing, dancing, and high adventures with all your favorite Sesame Street characters.  My inside scoop tells me that Ernie is a captain on the high seas, Bert meets an octopus struggling with the blues and Elmo, yes ELMO, will be dancing to a beat that can only be found in the African rain forest.  Impossible, you say?  No way, you say? Um, have you been listening?  It is Sesame Street and Elmo.  There is no limit to what they can do.  And my secret source tells me that many of the Sesame Street friends will be there to sing and dance along, too.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

Because this is such a big show I was given 4 tickets to give to a lucky reader of my blog.  All you have to do is leave a comment between now and October 1, 2010.  Doesn’t matter what the comment says, but keep it clean.  I reserve the right to delete any inappropriate comment, which would then leave you out of the running for these great tickets.  Just thought I had to mention that.  Over the course of the next 2.5 weeks I will give you some Sesame Street trivia to keep y’all busy.  You don’t have to get the answer right to win and you can comment as many times as you want.   The winner will be chosen by either Amber or Sam, depending on who is in the better mood that day, by pulling a number out a “hat”.  Don’t worry, I will record the process so you know it is all legit.

Even if you don’t win you can still see Sesame Street Live “1-2-3 Imagine! with Elmo & Friends” at the New Orleans Arena from Wednesday, October 20 – Saturday, October 23, 2010.  Check the box offices or ticketmaster for times and ticket prices.

Let’s start with our first trivia question.  I will be adding them to this post, so there won’t be any confusion.  Remember you don’t have to get the question correct; it will just give you something to talk about.  Here we go:

Which character is Elmo’s best friend? Zoe

What musical instrument does Ernie play? Saxophone

All of the Sesame Street Muppets have four fingers, except ____, who has five? Cookie Monster

In the first season of Sesame Street, Oscar the Grouch was what color? Orange

I took the weekend off, but here is your new question, how many celebrities have visited Sesame Street? Over 440 (WOW!)

Here’s an interesting one, which puppet is the only in history to have testified before congress? Elmo

Wooooo, another tough one: Where did the word Muppet come from? Jim Henson combined the words marionette and puppet.  Hmmm…I always thought it was monster and puppet together.  Learn a lot these days.

I am going to go with a slightly easier question, Whose Super Hero identity makes him smarter than a speeding bullet? Super Grover

Oops, I forgot to put a question up, yesterday, so here it is, today, Who was the first celebrity to appear on Sesame Street? James Earl Jones

I didn’t forget about the question for Monday.  I was just sick and went to bed early after running around all day.  So, here are 2 questions to keep you busy.  Remember we are almost to the end of the contest.  We will pick a winner Friday night, October 1.

Which character likes collecting junk, standing in line, arguing and rainy days? (This one is easy.  Here is a hint, the answer is not ME!)

Bernice the pigeon belongs to which character? Bert

Okay, once again the technology Gods were against me last night and I couldn’t get my blog to work.  In other words, I went to bed totally pissed off that I couldn’t put up a question.  So 2 questions, again, today.

How many bottle caps does Bert have in his collection? More than 368

How many Grammy Awards has Sesame Street won? 9

Disclaimer: My family was given 5 free tickets to the show for my participation in this promotion.

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Guess Who is Coming to New Orleans?

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

That’s right!  Curious George is coming to the New Orleans Arena Friday, September 10 to Sunday, September 12.  You know that silly little monkey that has been getting into all kinds of trouble for over 65 years.

It was so nice of him to come down for my birthday weekend, but I have a feeling he will be a bit too busy.  How do I know that  Curious George is going to be busy?  Because the nice people at the Vee Corporation have allowed me to give the locals of the Greater New Orleans area a discount when purchasing their tickets. Just go to ticketmaster.com and enter the code FRIEND to receive $3 off, excluding Gold Circle, Monkey and Opening Night tickets.

TM/© 2010 Sesame Workshop. All Rights Reserved. Photographs courtesy of VEE Corporation.

So come on down to the Arena and see what kind of adventures Curious George gets into in his first ever Broadway style show. I hear there is travel, food, and, of course, silly adventures that not only include George’s best friend, The Man with the Yellow Hat, but many other new friends.  You will just have to see it to believe it.  And be sure to say HI! if you see us, because we wouldn’t miss this for the world.  One last thing, stay tuned to the blog,  because I have another surprise coming soon that includes some other friends that you all will know.  I wouldn’t miss if I were you.

Disclaimer:  I have received free tickets for my family to this show for doing this blog post.

Curious George Live!

A VEE Corporation Production in association with Universal Pictures Stage Productions and Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. CG: ® & © 2010 Universal Studios and/or HMH. Photos courtesy of VEE Corporation.

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Norman Rockwell Halloween

Halloween was never a big holiday for me.  Sure as a kid I loved the free candy, but I don’t remember classroom parties or endless decorations.     I am not a fan of horror movies and didn’t party like my friends,  so Halloween just became another day made a little better with fun size candy bars.  In my early twenties, I started going out for Halloween.  Nothing huge just hanging around with friends as we watch the crazy unfold. Then I met SoHubby.  The man lives for Halloween.  He likes the dressing up, the decorations and the scaring the crap out of people, especially the little ones.  It isn’t Halloween until you make a kid cry on your porch and then console him with some free candy, hoping his parents are too drunk to remember this.  And, now, with kids, Halloween has taken on a whole new turn.

If you haven’t notice Halloween has become almost as big as Christmas.  Matter of fact all the holidays have.  The kids celebrate each holiday with the same excitement that was once reserved just for the big one, Christmas.  I think the stores play a big part of this, because where there is excitement there is some one spending money.  Tis the American way.  So they start putting Halloween items out starting in the beginning of August and people start to get the fever and the only cure is to spend, spend, spend.  I have no problem with this.  Heck, I welcome it because it just means more clearance once the holiday is over.  Too bad candy doesn’t last a year, at least not in this house.  Besides, Halloween is the first big holiday since school started.  So yeah!  Party, party, party.

Sohubby did get my Halloween spirit going in those early days of our relationship, but I think the kids, especially Sam, have thrown them into overdrive.  No, I am not covering my face in blood, watching Friday the 13th Part 103, or doing my best to give little kids heart attacks, but I am looking forward to Halloween.  I haven’t gotten my vision, though.  As soon as someone mentions Halloween, usually Sam, I can pretty much smell the cool crisp air with a touch of warmth in it.  This is odd only because we live on the edge of the 7th circle of Hell, weather wise.  It is rare to have a cool crisp Halloween in these parts, which means while the rest of the country is choosing costumes for warmth we are steering our kids toward ventilation and  mosquito protection.   However, if we do get that rare cool Halloween night, it is usually spoiled by the heavy hint of humidity in the air.  How can you have humidity and coolness at the same time?  You, my friend, haven’t been to New Orleans in October.  It happens and it sucks.  Still we march on like the true holiday soldiers that we are.

Next are the decorations.  I dream of hay bales with cute and friendly scarecrows and lovely round pumpkins scattered around our yard.  The look that screams come on in, sit by the fire and sip a cup of cider with me.  The husband and the kids steer the decorating more toward the blood, demented minions, gravestones, and things that look as if they have been underground for a century but love to pop up just as you walk by.  You know the look that screams 1950′s haunted, abandoned mental institution that would have been the center piece of any Geraldo special.  Not my ideal, but, again, I go with it, because I am out numbered.   I am sure when the kids are grown and on their own I can torment my lovely husband with all the cute and cuddly Halloween decorations I have always dreamed of.

The pumpkin patch.  I had seen and heard about them from TV shows, but had never seen one in real life.  Unfortunately, when I say pumpkin patch down here, I am not talking the drive to the country from the city to wander the land of a farm searching for that perfect pumpkin.  I am talking the parking lot of a local church who charges by the pound and has made up area for photo ops.  If you are really clever with your camera you won’t get the cars zooming pass on the major street in front of the church.  But if you close your eyes for a second and let the hay scratch you a bit you can imagine that you are in that far off farm in New England finding that perfectly round pumpkin.  As for the pumpkins, while they are better than what you will find at the local Wal-mart or grocery store. They are never perfectly round and most times you are lucky to get one that has one good side.

The one thing I can count on is the candy.  There is just that special mixture of chocolate and wax like candy that smells like Halloween.  And, of course, you can’t have Halloween without the candy corn.  That is grounds for explosion from the holidays altogether.  If you are not rolling on the ground screaming from pain by November 1 you didn’t have a good Halloween.  None of that Harvest Mix, either.  Those waxy pumpkins and brown “chocolate”and candy corn are enough to send me racing to the toilet like I am knocked up with triplets.  Things start to look up on October 1 when I have an excuse to get the candy bowl out and keep it filled with candy corn and other candy that signal which holiday is coming.  We never know why our pants are a little tighter with each passing month from October to January, because surely that small handful of holiday candy, that we grab on the way to the sofa to sit on our ass with our computers and TV, isn’t enough to pack on the pounds.  And all that exercise we get walking the kids from house to house to beg trick or treat for candy, or shopping for the perfect gift or turkey would be more than enough to use up the minuscule amount of candy we consume on a second by second basis.  Not to mention, the stop we make at our friends’ house for a second go around at dinner while trick or treating.  Nothing says love or holidays like food.

I will probably never get my New England Halloween (yes, I think of New England for Halloween) with it’s cool crisp air, apple picking, perfect pumpkin patches and hot cider, which I am almost positive I wouldn’t like.  I will continue on with our Halloween filled with ghoulish decorations that get knocked down day after day, because along with cold humidity comes big gusts of wind.  The kids changing which costume they want and the never ending fight over which costumes is not too sexy (yes, even in the pre tween section) or too satanic or too ghoulish or just plain too gross.  The bowl of candy that screams for me to partake of it’s sweetness until all the good chocolate is gone and then hangs around on my ass until New Year’s.  It is not the Norman Rockwell Halloween that I have in my mind, but it is a good time because it tells us that the cool crisp air we have been dying for since the middle of May is around the corner.  Thanksgiving is knocking on our doors and Christmas is getting ready to make it’s visit and stay awhile.  It is the holiday that comes knocking to let us know that it is that time of the year for families and friends to get together, hopefully, forget the everyday mundane stresses (traded in for those frivolous holiday stresses) and that a new year is coming filled with promise and happiness.  Yes, Halloween never meant much to me growing up, but it has a whole new meaning now.

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It is About the Federal Government, Stupid!

The anger over the oil spill can be found up and down the Gulf coast.  The anger might be a tad bit more in Louisiana, because it seems once again we have become the test study where everyone learns what they should have done from the word go.  Doesn’t matter that the people directly affected and our state and local officials were begging for action from the first spurt of oil, because the federal government knew better.  I don’t need to go into all that has occurred these past, fast approaching, 2 months, because it is all over the Internet and 24 hour news media.  If you don’t know then you haven’t been paying attention.

I am having to stay off of Twitter or drop half of the people I am following, because I can’t take it.  The blame is flowing like oil from a broken rig pipe, but there is one thing that is not being said.  This oil spill has nothing to do with America’s oil consumption.  Oh no.  The simple fact is there are many other countries drilling for oil off our coasts.  Better yet, if any of those happen to produce an oil spill, we have less control over it.  So what do we do then?  Sit and beg other countries whose coastlines aren’t affected to do something to protect us?

However, this was a rig under our juridisticon.  So let’s talk about that.  What has been the big sell that the Democrats have been selling us since before Obama got into office?  That if we just surrendered our lives to the federal government all would be fine and we wouldn’t have to worry ever again.  Well, let’s take a look at that.  Katrina proved to stall the federal government and leave 1000′s of people stranded for days.  There are many facts that have been debated and I am on the side that our governor at the time, Blanco, helped with the stalling.  Not saying that the federal government didn’t have any responsibility with Katrina, but both the federal and state government can share in the blame.  With regards to this oil spill, I lay a lot more blame at the feet of the federal government.

As a Conservative,  I believe in the free market, but I am not totally opposed to some federal regulations for businesses.  Now that doesn’t mean I believe that the government should take over corporations or tell them how to run their business (i.e. who they should loan money to).  I am for safety regulations and that is where the federal government let us down.  There were at least 3 areas where safety measures were disregarded with this oil rig and I have to ask where was the federal government for those disregarded safety measures?  Isn’t it one strike, two strikes, three strikes, YOU’RE OUT!  If the federal regulators would have done their jobs, maybe we wouldn’t have had this massive oil spill that is killing our wetlands, animals and livelihoods.  Weren’t they suppose to be looking out for us?  There have been reports that BP and the regulators were in bed together, literally.  Then there are other reports of the government regulators watching porn and doing drugs, which would have me thinking that that might have impaired their judgement a bit.  So yes, BP is to blame and should pay for the clean up, but the bigger question is who is watching over them to make sure they do what they have promised to do?  The federal government, the local government?  Well, everyone has their hands in that pot, so who do we trust?  Personally, I think we should be paying some of the fishermen, whose livelihood has been destroyed, to watch over.  I guarantee that they will get the job done.

So excuse me if I stay off Twitter as many of my Democrat, Liberal, or whatever they are called these days beat up on David Vitter and Bobby Jindal for pushing to lift the memoritorium on drilling for oil, but never ask “Hey, where the hell is Mary Landrieu?”  Oh that’s right she is having “off the record” conservations with parish presidents.  And they blame our dependence on oil, but never answer how we will run our cars or if they are willing to ride bikes to get where they need to go.  Sounds good in theory until you are faced with carrying your groceries home on a 2 wheeler.  Yes, I know there are hybrids, smart cars, wind and solar power, but what happens until these things are perfected.  It seems to be all or nothing with some.  Do you quit a job you are unhappy with before you have another one lined up?  Well, some do and then they discovered they are up shit’s creek with out any toilet paper.  Not a happy situation to be in.  The point is some have taken this opportunity to push their agenda through, instead of fixing the problem.  If the federal government is going to run our lives then they better be equipped to do it.  This time it is miles and miles of wetlands, next time it will be millions and millions of lives.  Are you willing to put your life in the hands of the federal government after they have handled this oil spill?  I am not.

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Our Catholic Saga Continues

Who knew being Catholic was so hard?  I mean I had been the non-practicing type for years and then became a practicing type, but still not that hard.  Sure not eating meat on Fridays for a few weeks can be trying, but nothing compared to being nailed to a cross and poked with a stick.  UNTIL…DUM,DUM,DUM…Catholic school.  There are many Catholic schools out there and I searched them all to make sure my little pretties would have a secure, healthy, knuckle cracking nun school experience.  Well, I still haven’t found the knuckle cracking nun part, but there is still a chance. *fingers crossed*  I picked out the perfect little Catholic school with it’s perfect little uniforms and it’s perfect neighborhood setting only to be told “We accept the girl, but we have to think on the boy a bit.”  *sigh*  The boy!

Amber was accepted on the spot.  It seems that maybe it is not so normal for a second grader to have straight A’s for first and second grade and the Vice Principal was rather impressed with our girl.  And to think I was worried she would fail Kindergarten.  Pshaw!!  Sam is a whole other story altogether.  I thought I did him well by keeping him at home with me, and, also, to save money for all this damn private schooling we need down here in the great state of Louisiana. {Another reason to choose private school, I am pretty sure they have a no gun policy.  SoHubby’s assistant’s son was threatened with a gun (by words, not actual gun) when he attended the middle school for our district.  Not much you could do, since the poor challenged boy was a “special education” case and had been kicked out of every school he ever attended.  We are talking multiple states, here.  The assistant’s son lived and is now being tortured at a public high school.  The little criminal misunderstood boy is, now, dead.  He died in a shoot out with 3 other boys in a neighborhood playground.  SoHubby told me he saw the boy’s mother on the News crying, claiming she didn’t understand why her boy had been shot.  And that maybe the problem right there.  I know why the boy died, our assistant knows why the boy died and the rest of the neighborhood knows why the boy died, because he ran with a rough crowd and routinely threatened to shoot people with a gun.  The 3 other boys were arrested soon after the shooting.} After his interview the teacher informed me that Sam was a “little angry” and frustrated when asked questions.  *sigh*  I didn’t have time to plead my case explain Sam’s quirks , so I just hang all my hopes on the acceptance of his older sister.  You vant the girl, you must take the boy, too. <—–not sure the German accent was necessary, but it seems to fit.

I have spent the last 2 weeks wringing my hands and going over and over what all this “a little angry” business might mean.  Is he in?  Is he out? What will I do if he doesn’t get in?  They have to take him if they want his sister.  And they do want his sister, because she is the greatest second grader on Earth and will make their school look great?  We will let them find out about her problem with the drama on their own.  Why spoil the ending for them?  Then the call came, can we bring Sam in for another interview?  And while trying to discuss his small, teeny tiny problems with the teacher, he was jumping around in the background like a cracked out bunny on 3 tons of sugar screaming, “WHOSE DAT, MOMMY?  WHOSE DAT, MOMMY?”  All the while I played like a calm, patient mother and tried to ignore him and move to another room.  Who taught these kids to walk and talk, because that has to be 2 of their most annoying traits.  So I didn’t hear or add much to the conversation.  I, also, must have had a hard time hearing the date evidenced by the phone call I got, today, about us missing our interview appointment.  GREAT!!!  Now, they think I am a scattered brain mom who can’t Keep appointments straight.  When really I could have sworn that she said next week and the proof is that I have it in my phone for next week.  At this point, it doesn’t matter because I am afraid any small thing will bring down the hammer and the huge German nun in full regulation habit will come out with her huge ruler and whack me in the hand and scream, “You have been DISMISSED!!!”

So this is purgatory?  This limbo of unknowing that has me feeling like I am dangling over the Mississippi River from the Huey P. Long bridge.  Okay, I am about to drop into a raging river way up high, for those of you not from here.  I have exhausted every possible scenario, every possible meaning behind the teacher’s words, and every controlled substance.  Oh I kid.  After all this, I don’t care what college the kids go to.  It will all be on their shoulders, because, hey, I did my part.  I dragged your narrow butt to a school that I had to fight tooth and nail to get you into all while ironing your uniforms and trying not to sneak off with the altar wine.  I thought the torture of Catholic school was heaped upon the students, not the parents.  I mean isn’t it enough that I have to write that big check that should be better spent on sparkly, pretty things for myself?  I guess not, for the next 12 years I shall be the Catholic school’s bitch.

Not one word about the school finding this blog.  NOT. ONE. WORD.  If so, could that mean you got Southern Momed?  I mean if my kids have to suffer through public school, I should, at least, get something out of it.

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