Somewhere In The Middle

Half of the time, I can’t remember the things I dream.  It seems like when I do remember them I’d wish I didn’t.  Yesterday was one of those days.  Maybe I watch too many horror movies or maybe I am just a disturbed person.  My dreams have been imbedded into my head.  What’s worse is they are happening in the state of sleep paralysis (half asleep/half awake) which can be outright terrifying.  

Yesterday, I was feeling exhausted around two in the afternoon.  I decided to lie down and take a nap before the kids came home from school.  I’m sure it was the snow that had crept into Oklahoma recently that made me feel so sleepy.  I curled up into the bed and nuzzled under the covers.  I dreamed I was taking a nap and woke up.  In my bedroom, there was an attic door on the ceiling that had been pulled down with the door extended.  In reality, there is only access to the attic up the stairs and it is a walk in attic.

In the dream, I was only slightly alarmed by the open attic.  I climbed out of bed and in my living room there was another attic on the ceiling with the ladder extended.  In the dining room, it was the same thing only the ladder had been broken into pieces on the floor.  The hallway closet was open.  It was the open closet that made my heart start to race.

I picked up my cellphone and dialed 911.  The operator was an idiot who I repeatedly gave my address to over and over again.  It was as if I was on a three-way call with the 911 operator and the police department.  I pleaded for them to send someone to my house and stated that someone is in here with me.

As I am pleading for them to help me, everything in my house turns on almost as if the electricity had been out.  The fans are spinning at their highest speeds.  The televisions and radios are all blaring loudly.  All of the lights came on at the same time.  At this point I look down the hallway and I noticed my son’s door begin to open and a shadow creeps out into the hallway.  I take off back towards my bedroom and into my closet where the safe room is located.  I make it into the room and slam the door behind me.  I manage to lock it as whoever it is stands on the other side trying to turn the knob.  I can see a shadow underneath the door.

Then I wake up, fully alert.  My heart is pounding in my chest.  I look at the clock and only about a half an hour has passed since I first laid in the bed.  Yeah, nap time was over.

Later that night after I sent the kids to bed, I climbed into my bed around 10:30pm.  I dreamed I woke up again and the bathroom door and closet doors were open.  Immediately, I felt startled.  I never sleep with doors open.  I heard whispering all around me and one by one I started to see these cloud-like, smoky images in front of me.  They appeared to have facial features and it looked as though they were whispering.  I tried to climb out of the bed but I was tangled in the covers.  I knew I was dreaming and was trying to get myself to wake up.  The whispers felt as if they were getting louder and louder.

I woke with a jolt and all at once there was silence.  I glanced over at the clock and thirty minutes had passed yet again.

Am I saying my house is haunted?  Not at all.  I do think something is weighing on my subconscious though.  Maybe I am being haunted by something like my own failure.  Who really knows though, right?  Maybe I just watch to many horror movies…

Summer Can't Come Quickly Enough

Twenty seven more days until school is out for summer. I’m completely mixed about it. On one hand, the thought of not having a break from the kids is a little terrifying especially since my husband is deployed. On the other, this school year has been such a merciless headache that summer may just be the relief the kids and I need.


In the beginning of this school year, I was really struggling to get my son on track. He was being completely lackadaisical when it came to his schoolwork which caused his teacher to request that he be tested for ADD and ADHD. It not only turned out to be a false alarm but the tests showed that my fifth grader was reading on an eighth grade level. These results didn’t shock me but it did make me proud that there was now proof that there was nothing wrong with him. On the inside I basically chanted “Ninny ninny boo boo!” and “I told you so. Now shut the fuck up and teach my kid!!!”

Although his grades were improving, his dislike for his teacher became more and more defined. Many days the boy would come home and as soon as he would walk through the door he would began ranting about how awful his teacher was. We would sit down and discuss it. I would try so hard to help him see her side even though I was grappling with some of her ways myself.

He’s expressed to me that he feels as if she is always picking on him and singling him out. I explained to him that he is partially to blame. He gave her such a hard time in the beginning of the year that she now has her eye on him all the time. So now if he farts crooked, she’s going to know about it. It’s not fair but that’s the way the cookie crumbles, little dude. I told him the best thing to do is to stay off of her radar and the way to do that is to not give her ammunition. Trying to convince him to work harder and keep his mouth shut and his nose clean is like trying to convert the Taliban to Christianity.

Little by little I am finding out that this teacher’s way of solving the problem is by separating him from the rest of the class. At first I thought this consisted of her having to sit him next to her desk or something like that. That doesn’t bother me but I’m discovering through more and more conversations with him that she is sitting him outside of the classroom; I’m talking in the hallway or in the empty classroom next door. My concern is how the hell are you teaching my child if he isn’t even in your class?? I don’t understand how this can be helping his grades.

Yesterday, I went to speak to the guidance counselor. I expressed my concerns about the way the boy has been feeling in regards to how he is being treated. I explained to her that I am noticing a shut down on the horizon and I didn’t want it to affect the improvement he has made so far. I asked if she would maybe talk to the teacher and explain to her the affect that her style of discipline is having on my child.

The only reason have not gone to the teacher myself is I don’t think I can remain calm. Let’s face it. If you haven’t noticed my “mother bear” is showing. My child feels picked on and I’m ready to defend him. I don’t think I can talk to her without being very confrontational. Another reason I felt the need to bring a third party into the situation is simply because if this teacher truly is “picking on” my kid, I don’t want matters to get worse for him.

I also asked the counselor to talk my son. It concerns me how angry this has made him. When we talk about his school situation, you can see the fury in his eyes as they well up with tears and he clenches his fists at his sides. I thought maybe if the counselor tried to help him understand the teacher’s stance a little better, it would help. She agreed to have a conversation with him.

Later that same day was the last straw. He was late coming home. When I questioned him as to why, he said that she made him sit in the empty classroom next door. Since he was being punished when the bell rang he didn’t get up. He figured she was going to come over, lecture him, and then dismiss him. Apparently, this wasn’t his first rodeo.

When she didn’t come to speak to him after a few minutes of waiting, he said he peeked around the corner. She was sitting at her desk on the computer. It seems that she actually forgot that he was there. This infuriated me to no end!!! I called the school. The counselor answered the phone. I let her know what had happened and she advised me that I should meet with the principal. Hopefully, I’ll get a meeting soon and I keep reminding myself that this is all almost over.

Can Anyone Else Feel A Breeze?

Oklahoma weather is insane. I thought the weather in New Orleans was unpredictable. Jeez! Thursday evening the wind began to pick up. It seemed to come out of nowhere.


My baby girl had a Girl Scout egg hunt. The boy was able to participate since he’s been dubbed an official Girl Scout Brother and has been unofficially adopted by the girls…except my daughter; she wishes they’d all take him home so she can be a “lonely” child (I think she means “only”).

During the egg hunt, the wind blew up the dust and made the leaves on the ground whip up into spirals. The air was heavy with the smell of smoke from the grass fires that raged in the distance and a milky haze filled the sky causing the mountains to resemble ghosts. It resembled early morning fog. The evening sun struggled to shine through. None of this stopped the children from their hunting game. They ran carelessly around the fields finding their brightly colored eggs filled with sweets and trinkets, oblivious to any danger.

Later that night, the winds blew violently with gusts up to 50 miles per hour. Many times during the night, I awoke to the howling of the winds whipping through the trees as branches were snapped and thrown against the house. My daughter ended up coming to the door to ask to sleep in my bed. The commotion outside had woken her up as well and probably scared the shit out of her.

The next day as I was running errands, I noticed trees ripped from the ground by the roots and fences toppled over. Branches were everywhere. Many homes were missing shingles but the wind was relentless. It was still bludgeoning the landscape with fury.

After school, I dropped my son off at a friend’s home for a sleepover (is that what you call what boys do??). My daughter and I headed to Wal-Mart in search of a futon to put into Buddy’s old room. The wind was still blowing around something terrible and when my daughter went to get out of the truck the wind snatched that door and nearly flung her onto the pavement. Luckily, there was no vehicle parked next to us or our door would have crashed into it causing some awful damage.

As we exited the truck, my daughter called over to me that she couldn’t close the door. When I came around the truck to the passenger side, I had to jerk the door nearly as hard as I could to get it to become unstuck. I assumed the door had been whipped open further than it was supposed to and had just needed to be yanked back into place. We went ahead into Wal-Mart and I didn’t think another thing about it.

When we returned to the truck, girl child went to get back in and called me over because she couldn’t open it now. I walked over and gave the door a quick tug and the awful sound of metal filled my ears. I looked over in the direction of the hinges and saw that the door was slightly over the corner of the fender. There was chipped paint and I could see where some of the metal was bent. I could tell that the door was crooked too. On the drive home, I could hear the wind coming in through the door. It sounded like I was driving with the windows cracked.

After we returned home, I called the insurance company and they set me up with a local body shop to get an estimate. Today, I dropped by the shop to have them take a look at it. They are going to need to replace the entire fender which is going to run roughly $1400 and once they remove the door it is possible that the hinges will need to be replaced as well. Thank goodness for insurance! I will only need to pay my deductible.

The guy at the body shop was able to make a minor adjustment to try to prevent any water from coming into the truck. Although the great state of Oklahoma hasn’t seen a good rain in I don’t even know how long, I was sure the door was leaking.  Why?  Because being the genius I am I decided it would a good idea to go through the carwash to clean my dusty ass truck.

Each time the water jets came across the door, water trickled down the window. Sometimes my genius shines. I’m telling you!

Now I wait. Apparently from what the girl doing my paperwork told me, I’m not the only person that was lucky enough to get some vehicle damage from the crazy wind. It looks like it will be the beginning of May before they can get me in.

One good thing is we had an existing dent on the fender that I was planning on getting an estimate for anyway. Since the wind messed up the door on the same side, I was told that the fender needs to be replaced anyway.

So although it sucks that I can’t use the door right now, at least, I can kill two birds with one stone. Also, for the time being, I don’t have to listen to my children bicker over who is going to sit in the front seat. Thank goodness for small favors.

Creepy Crawlers

Her scream could be heard all the way in the kitchen. My daughter came running and yelling about a tarantula in the bathtub. I had never seen a real life tarantula in the wild…or my bathroom before. I grabbed my camera. This is what I saw.

NOT a tarantula but a scorpion. Since it was so close to the drain I decided to turn on scalding hot water and try to drown and flush it down the drain.


Due to the design of the drain, the scorpion didn’t actually go down. I grabbed the tweezers and decided to pick the little bugger up by the tail. When I did, it came crawling up out of the drain with its tail raised and it pinchers poised ready to fight me.

Behind me, I heard a buzzing noise. I turn around and there was a freaking yellow jacket in the sink. I ran out the bathroom. My heart was racing. I scooped up the bug spray from under the sink and proceeded to drown the beast with the poisonous stream.

This isn’t the first time we’ve gotten icky creepy crawlers around our property. Apparently, Oklahoma should be referred to as Buglahoma (thanks, cuz).

Once while washing clothes, I went to transfer clothes from the washer to dryer and I stumbled upon this crazy zebra looking beetle. My reaction was just to let out a scream and my hero Super Deuce came running. I managed to snap a picture of it just as Deuce turned it into a scene from a horror movie.

You my boy, Deuce!

Another thing around here that amazes me is the size of the freaking grasshoppers.

They are enormous AND they fly and give me the heebie jeebies. The thing I hate most about them is their unpredictability. They jump. They fly. These things are usually done in my direction which makes for humorous entertainment for those around me as I scream like a little bitch and flail my arms as I run. The only other insects that can make me act this way and give me the willies are:

a.) Cockroaches…the flying kind (also called palmetto bugs, water bugs, etc…depending on where you live). I prefer to call them fucking gross!!

b.) Junebugs…those flying brown beetles that hang out on your screen door at night usually when your porch light is on. These always seem to fly at my face.

A few times I’ve seen praying mantises. It was interesting seeing the looks on my children’s faces as I explained their violent mating rituals. My son declared that he was glad he wasn’t a mantis.

Every so often in the Sooner state *gag* amongst the mile long snakes and the insects large enough to run away with a newborn, you will see something as cute and cuddly as this little guy.

Rabbits roam our neighborhood, eating your plants and leaving little pellets of evidence all over the place. This little bunny was hanging out on my porch. It was small enough to fit into the palm of my hand. You can tell by looking at the bricks how tiny it really was. The problem?  The poor thing was spotted by my daughter. She brought it spinach to tried to coax it into her clutches. When that didn't work, she just went balls to the wall and reached out and grabbed the poor little bastard. It proceeded to thrash and scream! Yes, scream!

I had never heard a rabbit scream before. I had heard they could but had never had the pleasure. It managed to get away and it ran towards the neighbors (just like his mommy taught him...lol) and wedged itself between the city garbage can and the fence.

The dogs are going ballistic at this point, both mine and the neighbors. My daughter wanted me to capture this poor little “suburban” woodland creature. I tried to explain that I don't want to move the garbage can for two reasons:

1.) I don't want the furball to get caught in the wheel.

2.) I don't want it to freak out and run under the fence to certain death. Either way, I would feel bad because who really wants to see the demise of a cute “wittle bunny wabbit”.

These explanations, while making sense to me, were not enough to convince a 7-year old Elmyra Duff wannabe (remember Tiny Toons?) that the sheer existence of this tiny rodent relative was more important than her need to hug it and kiss it and love it forever. This minor disagreement brought on tears and pouting and the declaration that I am, yet again, the worst mom in the whole wide world only second to child murderers such as Andrea Yates and Susan Smith.

Needless to say, I ended up having to send my baby girl to her room along with her tears, tantrum, and attitude where she fell asleep soundly dreaming of places where mommies let their little girls catch bunnies and Skittles really do come from rainbows. Hopefully, when she finally woke up Bugs Bunny’s love child will have moved on to greener pastures.