SLOTH LOVE

Source: hautemamasfaves.tumblr.com via Holly on Pinterest

I saw this on Yahoo awhile ago and have been saving it for a special day to share. Today is that day, you lucky blogger friends, you! I hope you leave a little happier now then when you arrived. 

The first time I saw it, I laughed like CRAZY. Then I immediately watched it again and laughed just as hard. 

Apparently, Kristen Bell has a serious sloth obsession...and  some serious emotional issues too. Mix them together and you get something you just have to see for yourself to believe. 

Just click the image to watch.

KIDS TALK.

Assignment:
Character description. Who are they? What do they look like? What do they do? And what do they say?  
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I mentioned once that your child's teacher knows more about you then you might guess. Kid's talk...or in this case...kid's write. One student chose to describe his mother for this assignment. I laughed pretty hard at the image he painted of what his mom does all day...


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What...you can't read that handwriting? Really?

Fine. Let me translate:

"My mom lie's around a lot, watches TV, and eat's ice cream. She also eat's burritos."


Apparently, I need to teach another lesson on correct apostrophe usage. But besides that, funny right? 
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What would your kid say that you do all day? Hopefully it's not: 'lay around and eat burritos'. Ha!

CONTRACTUAL AGREEMENT

I raved about my lovely new wreath on this blog over a year ago. Twice, I think--embarrassingly enough. But I bring it up again because of what I found tucked inside the storage box it spends most of the year in down in our cold storage room... 

As Andrew and I were packing away Christmas decorations last January, he disappeared for a few minutes after I asked him to box up my lovely, new wreath. When he reappeared, I was ceremoniously presented with this contract requiring me to sign away (twice) any rights I had to anger and blame in the event of an accident. 

Smart guy, right? 

I completely forgot about it until I stumbled upon it while decorating for Christmas this year. I laughed and laughed and laughed. Although the contract never had to be produced or enforced (the wreath still being intact), it did earn Andrew a kiss for being so dang cute. 

ODE TO THE DOUGHNUT

Doughnut, oh, Doughnut
You're wonderful stuff
I love you, oh, Doughnut
I can't get enough. 

You start out as dough
Then you're deep fried in grease 
at this point, my yearning
will only increase.
you're covered with frosting
and sprinkles galore
you're sugar encrusted
I must have some more!

Doughnut, oh, Doughnut
there on my plate
you ease all my sorrows
I think I'll eat eight.
Hang on a minute, 
What's that you say?
my dear friend, the pastry
will only betray?

Doughnut, oh, Doughnut
you've broken my heart
I thought you would love me 
'til death do us part
Alas, you have tricked me,
the results appear grim
Never mind, doughnut...
I'm going to the gym.

--Rachel Ashmore

The result of Andrew leaving town for a week?

Rachel spends her evenings writing love poems to fried, ring-shaped sweets. And speaking in the the third person.

Thank goodness he'll be back tonight.

CODE

As usual, I was running around my classroom like a crazy person, trying to multi-task an insane number of tasks at once--straightening, copying, grading, sharpening pencils, arranging bulletin board displays, filing, answering questions, keeping an eye on the clock, monitoring students, planning, e-mailing, and applying band-aids...when I hit a roadblock trying to enter a grade into the computer. 

Ha. Ha. Ha. Very amusing. Like I have a spare second to sit and figure out whose paper this belongs to! 

Though to be quite honest, without doing any sort of number figuring, I knew EXACTLY who it belonged to:

That gal whose "creativity" will soon be the cause of my first gray hair. 

*smile*

WHAT'S IN A NAME?

In the mail today, we received a coupon booklet. I immediately ripped this page out for future use at our favorite date night location. We love ourselves some good Costa Vida.
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But then...something else caught my eye. 

Seriously? Is that not the most unfortunate of acronyms...even without purposely splashing it around in bold, fancy font?

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Especially for such a manly store. 

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It's almost as bad as the EVCO House of Hose building we always pass with a snicker. (Yes, we're mature like that.) Who knew garden hose could be so dirty?

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But it doesn't come close to the company name I can't even bring myself to type it is so horribly X-Rated in this context. 

Just protecting the innocent, you see. I shouldn't have even brought it up in the first place. 

I HAD A DREAM

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It officially feels like autumn in our neck of the woods. I run the heater in my car in the mornings and the a/c in the afternoons, leaves are are turning gold, and I keep passing trucks of freshly harvested potatoes on the highway. 

These are also harbingers of college football, Andrew's sacred hunting season, and the school district's week-long week off for spud harvest. I love spuds. If southeast Idaho was given a week off of school for harvesting bowling balls, I'd love those too.

So anyway, I had a dream the other night that was truly horrifying.

Andrew was trying to kill me. With a knife. I had to protect myself curled up beneath a couch cushion.

What spurred this, I have no clue. You Freudians out there might argue that it was an expression of repressed feelings of anger or hostility toward my man. Or that I feel I am being controlled or victimized by him in real life.



Whatever.  Anyone who knows Andrew Ashmore wouldn't believe it for a second. Just look at that face!   

Then I had to wake up and act normal around him. Ha. It's amazing how real dreams can feel sometimes. Like the time I dreamed he drove our car into the river, and then I spent the next morning angrily lecturing him on the evils of reckless driving. Poor guy.

On top of everything, this haunting images happened on the eve of his 27th birthday. Then I woke up and was all whimpery over what possessed him to attempt slashing me to pieces! I thought he loved me!

My poor husband can't catch a break. 

I guess that's my whole story. Andrew hates me and wants me dead. Have any of you had dreams so realistic they affected your emotions the next day? 

WARNING: R-Rated Post

I was alone in my classroom reading this from one of my new third graders and dying to share it with someone. This little gal made three very funny mistakes right on top of each other...each a little more shocking than the last. 

I often have to translate students' experimental spellings in my mind as I read. My thought process as I read this went something like: 


You are a nice teacher.
You are smart. 
You are cool. 
You are fun.

Aww. What a sweetie. 

Do you like...touching kids? 

Um, that's awkward. Does she mean hugging them maybe?

Do you like...whores?! 

WHAT the...?

Do you like to...ride whores??!

OH. MY. GOSH!


It was at this point that I dropped the letter and laughed out loud for a minute straight. I mean, obviously, she wasn't meaning to say those things. In case you are wondering, I'm pretty sure the correct translation is something more like:

Do you like TEACHING kids?
Do you like HORSES?
Do you like to ride HORSES?

Nonetheless, this is one letter I will be keeping forever.

TEACHER TUESDAY {skinned bunnies and beans}

{source}

ONE.
A student proudly brought a rabbit pellet to share with the class. One gal, running her hands over the soft fur, said:

"It's really sad, because you have to kill a bunny to get its fur."

A nearby boy said helpfully,"Well, you could just shave it."

I started laughing and tried to explain why this wouldn't work when my usually, clueless guy in the front suddenly sat up straight in his chair.

"Wait! Does shaving a bunny, kill it??"

It took several minutes to get the class back into control.

{source}

TWO.
I was focused on checking names for homework completion when a favorite little character of mine came up and asked, "Do you want to hear something kind of sad?"

My absent minded, "uh huh," was encouragement enough.

"Well," he began, sighing dramatically, "I sneezed into two cans of beans, so I had to eat them all by myself.
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Now I'm really gassy."

The checklist suddenly forgotten, I stared after him as he walked back to his desk. I never did come up with anything to say in response.

UNLUCKY IN LOVE

Flipping through old pictures, I found one I had taken of a student's limerick poem (written on a Dr. Seuss hat):

There once was a very nice buck.
He met a very nice duck.
He was mating,
The grass was fading
Then he had no luck.

I remember crouching next to his desk to edit the rough and having to re-read it several times. 
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"So...tell me more about what this poem is saying...who doesn't have any luck? What kind of luck doesn't he have...?" 
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No matter how I phrased my questions, I couldn't get him to really explain it satisfactorily. I don't think he really understood the ways in which this poem was just...awkward. And I couldn't ask the questions I really wanted answered without touching on taboo topics in a public elementary school. So I finally just checked spelling and grammar before sending him off to publish his final copy. 

Though I'm still wondering what his mother thinks of my poetry instruction...

ANDREW'S BEDTIME STORIES

We've experienced withdrawals since finishing the Percy Jackson series. We haven't found a series to take its place as our bedtime story yet, and so we go to sleep feeling as if our day wasn't quite complete, somehow. 

Being the swell fellow that Andrew is, he took matters into his own hands. Each night laying in bed, he makes up stories on the spot that never disappoint. Action...romance...life lessons...they've got it all.

Let me share my favorite thus far:

Once upon a time there was a frog named George. He had the sweetest lily pad in the whole pond. It was even featured on "Pimp My Pad." 

One day, there came a water fowl, and it started to eat him. But George put out his long, skinny frog arms and strangled that water fowl. While this was happening, somebody took a picture and titled it, "Never Give Up." {sound familiar?}

{source}

The frog eventually got spit out, and he had a huge following of girl frogs who thought he was so brave. But George wanted to find a girl froggy to settle down with--to take care of his tadpoles. 

One day, he met Martha and they fell madly in love. They joined their lily pads with fish hooks so they were together, and they made lots of tadpoles that turned into little froggies. Sometimes, the little froggies were naughty and George had to stick his tongue in their eyes. But eventually, the froggies all grew up to be good boys and girls, and they all moved out to have their own adventures. 

THE END

Nice, right? I swear, I almost had a conniption from laughing when he talked about disciplining the kiddos with eyeball licking. I'm still laughing, in fact. 

But who knows? Maybe he's on to something there. Have you tried it with your own kids?

FOCAL POINT FRIDAY--purple, silky bra

The focal points of the week...best and worst...

WORST:

Tuesday
*(7:30 a.m.) I catapult out of bed at about the time I am supposed to be arriving at work.

*(10:15 a.m.) A few minutes before the superintendent and the entire school board parade through my classroom, I spill my berry breakfast smoothie down the front of my blouse and favorite pair of pants.

*(2:35p.m.) I walk exhausted into the restroom where I catch sight of myself in the mirror. I am stained, looking exceptionally tired...and in the early morning rush...obviously forgot to apply makeup.

BEST:

Friday
*Driving home from work today, Erickson's GMC electronic sign flashed a beautiful 67 degree  temperature.

boo-yah.

Especially since it snowed just a few days ago...




Ummm....So-So

Today
Anyone missing a purple silky bra? About a size C cup?

I found it. On the flagpole at the elementary school this morning.

Yes, your joke was very funny. But it had to be removed before my two little flag bearers arrived and became scarred for life.

My students lead a very sheltered, Rexburgian existence, you know.

ISSUES

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What my baby sister Aria, does for fun:






And posted by Dad on Facebook yesterday:

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"‎4-year old Aria spent some time in her bedroom and I found that her Teddy Bears were all tied up to chairs. I'm sure psychologically this is not a good thing..."

True that. True. That. =)

I DRIVE A DODGE STRATUS.

So, a couple of weeks ago, I wrecked my car. I don't really want to talk about it.

But so as not to leave you hanging, I'll just say that Idaho roads suck in the winter after high winds. Especially when you're maneuvering a sharp curve. And you're late for work. *ahem*

It could have been really bad. But luckily, I missed the oncoming traffic, the fence, the telephone pole, and the trees. So I'm counting my blessings that all I have to show for the ordeal is some mild whiplash and the need for a new front bumper.

My poor car is currently at the car doctor. Meanwhile, I have been provided with a Nissan Quest minivan to get around in. It was rather awkward for me to get used to in the beginning...probably because of the whole not quite being in the mini-van-stage-of-life yet deal. But I've since learned to really enjoy the luxuriousness of the interior, being higher off the ground, and (don't laugh) the greater horsepower.

But this weekend, we took the van out for a date night spin. Driving the mini-van must have been strange for Andrew too, but I didn't understand the extent of it until on our way out the door, he offhandedly suggested we put fake car seats in the back.

My ignoring this, didn't discourage him. Because then, on our way to the movies, Andrew kept randomly yelling things to the back seats like:

Don't make me come back there!

and

Don't make me turn this van around!

I'll keep an eye on him over the next few days, and let you know if his delusions get any worse. In the meantime, if you see a young gal parking her van at the far back corner of the grocery store lot go say hi. It's just me...not used to parking a van...and doing my best to avoid further accidents.

MEMORY MONDAY--honeymooners

{*post edit}

This may be the only picture I have of our honeymoon: just the two of us...officially married...riding off into the sunset...living the adult-life alone! I love that it perfectly captures the golden, happy mood of the whole trip.
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{And if I remember right, this picture was actually taken by a polygamist family who happened to be on the bridge at teh same time.}

Being married to Andrew really is the best.



But after my dad saw this picture, he e-mailed me a picture of his own:

He and my step-mom...on their honeymoon...on the same bridge...at the same time of day...in the same pose.

*awkward silence*




I know, right?
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The myriad of complicated emotions that surfaced for me then, all seemed to be synonymous with the word: uncomfortable at varying degrees.

Don't get me wrong. I like these guys...but...weird. Do I really need to explain myself any further here?


I'm doing my best not to let it taint our own golden glow.
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SNAPSHOT SATURDAY--the mashed potata'

Found this picture on a blog I like to stop in on every once in awhile. C. Jane is a clever, entertaining writer from Provo, Utah. You can read her full post HERE.

But enough about her. Look at her daughter!

Little Ever Jane was granted the privilege of having her way with a blob of mashed potatoes. Who knew that smooshing potatoes in your hair could bring such pure joy? I didn't until I saw this snapshot.

But now I'm a believer.

Next time I have a bad day, I'm going to roll around in my own blob of mashed potatoes. If for anything, just to see Andrew's reaction when he happens upon me, my potato encrusted hands resting on my head, my face making that same joy-filled expression.

Let me show you Ever Jane again, just so you can picture it.

Okay, I'm finished now. Just hoping that photograph brings as much happiness to your heart, as it did to mine. Ciao.

VALENTINE KISSERS AND MUSTACHES

For Valentine's Day, I'm giving my kiddos suckers attached to felt lips and mustaches. Then, when they put the sucker in their mouths, they look like this:

Andrew and I should totally take up modeling.
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The felt cost me $1.50 and the suckers $1.79. A girl I grew up with posted about this on her blog, and I've been looking forward to trying it with my class ever since. She got her idea from HERE. 

The downloadable template made them kinda big, so I think the lips need some de-botox-ifying before I cut out the rest.
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But anyway, if you're looking for a last minute idea, this one is kinda fun. Send them with your kids for their school Valentine parties.

Don't Andrew's muttonchops look sexy?

A little bit, maybe?

TEACHING SCENE TUESDAY--dear scrooge,

The final day before Christmas vacation (a Monday), was going to be a total bust. And then I got a substitute to cover my class on top of that because Andrew and I wanted to celebrate graduation/anniversary in style. SO, my lesson plans basically consisted of watching holiday movies...one being A Muppet Christmas Carol. The kids wrote letters after the show and this one made me laugh out loud:

Dear Scrooge,

You were not very nice. We were glad the ghosts came to see you and help you be nice. That was nice of you to bring the turkey to Bob's family. That was sad you didn't get married but we hope you fall in love someday.

Love,

*Mary and Suzie

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent. =)

TEACHING SCENE TUESDAY--cool kids

The number of children's books I own probably reaches the thousands. No exaggeration. It allows me to keep the class library well stocked and the books fresh and rotated through the year. 

But, of all those books that I have to offer, the most popular book...the one that never stays on the shelf more than a day...that has exchanged hands continually since September...and has undergone the most wear of any other...is all about how to be "cool" in the third grade. 
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They don't ever talk about it though. It rotates around the room quietly, as if in secret. 
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This strikes me as so...funny/precious/kinda pathetic. 
Who knew 8-year-olds had this dilemma so heavily on the brain?

CAR RIDE

It was our third trip down to Utah last month, and all the hours on the road were beginning to drive us crazy. (Word.) How 'bout I let you in on a couple minutes of our insanity...

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After half an hour of silence through barren flat lands, Andrew, without taking his eyes off the road, asked:

"Do you wanna have a tickle fight?"

His tone was way too serious for comfort.

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"Don't you dare touch me."

His hand inched in my direction, resting stiffly on the center consul. We sat there for a minute before the suspense became too much for me. I punched him in the arm as hard as I could.

This only caused him to laugh delightedly, so I glared at him.

"Andrew, if you cross this line, I will punch your frickin' lights out." (We have a very honest, open relationship.)

After more hysterical laughter, he inched his hand towards me again, resting it ever so gently between us.

"You're walking a thin line, Mr."

"I'm not going to tickle you. I'm just going to show you affection. Don't you love me?"

"Yes, I love you. But my love for you lessens every time you tickle me."

"I thought you said your love was unconditional ."

"It is...until you tickle me."

"Then it's not unconditional!"

"Okay, fine. My love ISN'T unconditional. So you had better stop!"

These events cycled for some time, but I won't bore you with the particulars. Let's just say there was screaming, punching, karate chopping, and evil hysterical laughter involved. And let me add that it's a miracle we didn't crash and burn on that lonely Idaho highway.

When it comes to being tickled, I don't mess around. Just consider this a warning for all those anxious to take multiple road trips in one month...or drive with us in a car for hours at a time...or TRY and tickle Rachel Ashmore. And that's my story, the end. 

Hi-YA,

Rachel