Wow

Pardon the past two months of blog format craziness. I chose this morning to finally, actually, closely read the directions, and VOILA! Miraculously, my blog isn't hard to read any more.

My bad.

It's been a busy month around the Jennings house. I went back to work. Keith left for two weeks on a business trip, leaving me with three small children for the two weeks before we were to host Thanksgiving dinner.

I'll pause while you fill in the blanks with the mean things I thought but, of course, didn't say... :-)
Seriously, it wasn't too bad. I mean, other than spending two weeks sleeping upstairs in E's double bed sandwiched in between him and Laney -- as opposed to sleeping downstairs in my king-sized bed, still sandwiched in between them--, there really wasn't much difference... other than, obviously, K being gone.

I spent the weekend after his return in Charleston with my girl Melissa. Let me give you a little background on my friend M.

M and I met @ Clemson back in the day when we were both recruiting hostesses for our beloved Tigers.

Side note -- before you smirk and think that we were those kind of girls -- we became recruiting hostesses because of our love for football, not because of our love for big muscular men in tight pants. Seriously. I mean, those of you who know my dad know I wasn't allowed to date until I turned 30.

Nevermind the husband of almost 9 years and the three kids.

Anyway, I gave her a ride back to the football office (from where, I don't recall), and we struck up a conversation about one of our favorite topics -- Clemson football. (Shocking, I know.) During the course of the conversation, we discovered that we both *L.O.V.E.* Danny Ford.

It's almost like an obsession, but not quite.

And thus, our friendship was born -- kindred hearts bound by a slight obsession with a good ol' boy football coach who led our sweet Tigers to win the National Championship.

It's really a fairy tale-kind of start, I think.

Fast-forward more years than I care to admit have passed, and here we are today. M lives in Charleston, which is probably my favorite place on the planet. I look for any excuse to visit her... such as a much needed break after two straight weeks with the kids.

A few weeks ago, she messaged me about this upcoming party for a friend of hers... 30th birthday... fun people... like I'd need any kind of arm-twisting to get me on board for a weekend of fun times in my favorite city with one of my favorite friends.

The more I found out about the party, though, the more I knew I had to go. Turned out there was a theme involved... and wigs.

I love a good costume party.

I especially love a good funny costume party... like a redneck trailer trash 30th birthday party. Which, as it turned out, this one was.

My friend Lindsay loaned me her Amy Winehouse wig from Halloween, and I started putting together my costume.

Add one cut-up Tony Stewart racing shirt, one black tank top, one orange bra, one hot pair of jean shorts (otherwise known as jorts), one pair of tan pantyhose, one pair of black high heeled boots, a white leather patchwork purse, and one really hot, pink, flaming heart tattoo.

Throw on some blue eyeshadow, metallic blue liquid eyeliner, hot pink lipgloss, hoop earrings the size of a softball, and one big puffy white jacket, and you have the recipe for pictures that are going to embarrass my kids and husband for years to come.

Like these:

I know that, at some point, my kids are going to see these pictures and say, "Mom! What were you thinking?!?!"... at which time I will venture to explain that just because I am their mommy does not mean that I am not also a person with interests and friends and a life... which means that I have turned into my mother.

Now, I'm pretty sure Mary has never dressed up in any sort of racing shirt... or jean shorts... or sported a fake tat... but she did have black knee boots when I was growing up... (I know this because they were THE staple item in my Wonder Woman costume when I was little... that, a set of Wonder Woman underoos, and some tin foil...)

I find this disturbing.

I will say -- to her credit -- that she has pretty much let me talk her out of wearing any sort of seasonal sweater... but still...

Anyway, despite the fact that I am posting these pictures here and on my Facebook page, Melissa and I took great care to avoid any public appearances while in costume. Obviously, it wasn't quite so awkward once we arrived; the costumes were hysterical! (Think Hannah Montana wig cut into a mullet.)

The party was fabulous and absolutely hilarious (minus getting called out about driving a mini-van -- nothing says "Not a regular party goer" like pulling up to the bash in the MV), but on the way home, we were faced with a major delimma.

I was hungry.

After much debate, we decided to hit the drive through @ Taco Bell.

In line, we caused a little bit of a stir... Two hot redneck women belted into an even hotter mini-van, complete with a school magnet on the back... but this is truly what I found alarming.

The lady at the drive through window didn't bat an eye when we came through.

She didn't even give us a second glance, despite the fact that my wig was seriously almost as tall as I am.

Apparently, hotties like us are par for the course on the islands around Charleston...

Hi-ho, Hi-ho... It's Back to Work I Go....

which means blog postings will take for-flippin'-ever to finish. :-)

First, I am sooooo glad that this was a short week because I am soooo tired. My kids -- my school children, not my biological ones -- were so excited to see me, which makes what I do worthwhile... but still... a day full of very active teenagers followed by an evening of very active children makes me one tired and cranky SuperMom.

Speaking of Super Moms, I just got the capes and masks I ordered for the kids for Christmas, and they are freakin' hilarious. Can't wait to let them loose in the yard wearing nothing but their capes, masks, and under-roos... the neighbors will be totally alarmed...

Anyway... there are some adjustments to be made. First, I have to get up at the first hint of the butt crack of dawn (pardon the strong imagery there, but really -- it is earlier than I ever imagined I would voluntarily get up unless I was going somewhere fabulous...). I mean, the option has always been there for me to get up that early, but there just didn't seem to be a point in it when I could get another hour's sleep... until now.

Sam, who already pretty much sleeps through the night (from around 11 pm to 6 am... yes, thank you, he is the perfect child...), decided after my first day back on Wednesday that he'd start waking up at crazy hours of the night and keeping me up until literally minutes before my alarm was set to go off.

There's not really any feeling in the world like finally getting your child to sleep after a fun-filled two hours of nursing and baby talk only to realize that it is 5:29 AM... and you get up at 5:30 AM.

Moments like those are the reasons curse words were invented.

Second, I am trying to figure out this nursing thing. Gentlemen readers, please excuse, but this really is a conundrum. (I love that word, by the way.)

Ethan and Laney were both born in the spring, so I didn't go back to school until the following year... and by then, they were both on formula. I nursed Ethan for 6 weeks before getting sick with a vicious case of poison oak that required really strong steroids. Laney just wasn't having any of that nursing business, period. The Princess was much too impatient to wait for her meals to be delivered naturally; she preferred the bottle from the get-go.

Sam, of course, being the perfect child, is all about his mom, and so we're giving this nursing thing another shot.

So far, he has done incredibly well, but I've never had to actually pump at school... which I have to do now... which totally freaks me out, as the idea of that probably does most of you all.

The thing is, my room is practically a palace, so I don't have to go hide in the faculty bathroom or lock myself in the janitor's closet, like a lot of my friends have had to do... but still... there's something quite disconcerting about hooking yourself up to a machine in the middle of your classroom.

There are so many various and embarrassing options as to how this could turn out.
1 - Someone, like a co-worker, could let himself/herself in to get something out of my room. Now, I lock my door and cover all the windows (a little paranoid), but if you need a stapler, and you know I have a stapler, you're probably going to try to come in and get it. It's not like I want to post a big ol' sign that says "PUMPING!!! ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!" I mean, I do teach teenagers... No sense in asking for trouble.
2 - Someone, like one of my students, could try to get the door unlocked... I am a nazi about not letting people leaving things in my room, but on occasion, I have a soft moment and will let a kid leave books or a bag in my room. It would totally be my luck that one of those kids would have a desperate emergency that required retrieving possessions from my room while I'm exposed.
3 - The construction workers outside could somehow be able to see through the closed blinds and be getting a daily peep show. We have major construction going on at our school, and my room is right at the front corner of the building... which is right where one of the major building sites begins. Nothing says "Thanks for building our new addition!" like a full frontal flash...

A dozen other possibilities run through my brain on a daily basis as I sit there, trying to think about anything but whether or not there are hidden cameras in my room broadcasting this to the far corners of the earth....

Another adjustment is the sheer amount of stuff I have to do/have/plan in order to get through the day and still have any shred of sanity left.

I have to make sure lunches are made and coffee is set... clothes are laid out and bags are packed... cell is charged and plan is set for the next day....

There's a lot to think about...

and I am ADD...

meaning I foul things up on a daily basis.

So far, I've sent Ethan to school with a lunch that did not have an ice-pack in it... which sent him over his uptight, OCD edge... forgotten to set the coffee for K... and left my pump stuff @ home on the counter... which makes adjustment #2 very hard to take care of.

I'm sure that, at some point, this will get easier, like if I had a full-time maid, nanny, and personal assistant...

Boo. Hiss.

I have to go back to work tomorrow, and I am protesting.