Shoplifting is Easy at Walmart!!!!

The other day my son and I were in Walmart and observed something that I think really speaks volumes about our country. No, it wasn't one of the many moms doing the, "If you don't get over here by the time I count to three..." to her kid running headlong into the rack of clothes. Neither was it the wondrous variety of furry slipper wear and pulchritudinous ( I LOVE that word) bonanza of pajama pants that I notice people are "brave" to wear out in public that always catch my eye. Instead, it was Stevie who saw a little punk stealing.


As we were in line to check out, Stevie told me that he saw a kid stuff a DS game into his sweater front. Well, specifically, at first he tried stuffing it down his pants. But that didn't work, so he went with plan B. However, I don't think that the kid thought that he would have an audience because he became pretty flustered with Stevie standing there watching.



Anyway, we told the checker about the little 8 year old klepto. She promptly informed us that when that happens, be sure to contact an employee with a blue vest...duh, that's why we're telling you, lady. So I asked Stevie if he saw the cute klepto kid around and, sure enough, he was with his dad and little sister, checking out. Pointing out the kid to the vibrant blue eye-shadowed checker, we felt that surely justice would be served and the sticky fingers would have a bright red butt before that night was out. But, no. Blue Eye-shadow Lady told Banana Yellow-haired Lady guarding the door, who apparently is not the sharpest knife in the drawer because she stood there and watched them walk right out as the alarm was sounding! And here's the kicker: Apparently, according to Blue Eye-shadow Lady, once the person walks out through the alarm door and out, they can't stop them. What?!



So what does this say about our country? Perhaps you can come up with your own opinion, but here's my two cents. We are just too PC paranoid. Don't ya think? Those employees were so uncomfortable about confronting that dad with the cute shoplifting savvy kid that they simply let him walk out the door. Confrontation? uncomfortable. Accusation? No way! The fear of giving offence kept them from doing the right thing, no matter how uncomfortable it might have been.

As we walked out the door, Blue Eye-shadow Lady gave me a sympathetic smile and said sorry. Sorry? For what? For not doing the right thing? For not teaching that little squirt a lesson? Or sorry for teaching my son another lesson: If you can make it through the front doors with the stolen goods, your free and clear. Now isn't that a valuable lesson to learn. Thanks, Walmart.

O.k., so this explains what happened to our cat. shaken kitten syndrome.

Thankfulness

Today I'm thankful for:

10.The end of the same, monotonous Christmas carols played over and over on the radio

9.The strength to power shop on the day after Christmas

8.Children who choose to do brave things

7.Massive amounts of leftovers, so that I don't have to cook

6.Brave passengers who tackle insane people claiming to be terrorists on airplanes

5.Daughters who shed happy tears over gifts

4.MY beautiful island

3. Husbands who give Kitchenaids to their wives

2.Baby Henry (of course!)

1. God, who makes ALL of this even possible

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,


As you know, I have been fairly well behaved this past year. o.k., aside from the occasional deep hatred felt towards a certain control-freakish, obsessive parent, I do make sure that I ask for forgiveness- after I'm tired of getting myself all spun up thinking about all of the horrid things this person has done. Or at least I think that I've asked for forgiveness for all of those times. I promise I'll pray an all encompassing prayer to cover all of this as soon as I'm done with this letter. And I'll make it a true, heartfelt prayer.


So here's the deal, Santa. I want somebody to read my blog!Sorry, but my kids don't count because I make them read it. After all, I gave life to them; it is the least they can do to pay me back. I mean really, is this too much to ask?



Now I'm not bragging or anything,but you know that I work hard on my blog, agonize over templates, hunt for the best songs, and I am diligent to use my dictionary like a good student blogger should. I have learned so much in this journey and have learned my lessons well. Some of those being: No matter how tempting it is, do not write a blog site as if it is written by your pet. No matter how cute you may think it is. Because it's stupid. And a lot of people,unfortunately, do. Also, don't put your pet's head onto a person's dancing body, such as, a dancing elf video. Yikes. double weirdness.Last of all, embrace your spell checker, make it your friend! Or at least attempt to make complete sentences.



You see, to be honest Santa, my real problem is blogger envy. Ever since I found the blog Nat the Fat Rat, who happens to have over 1000 followers (1000!! Holy cow!), I long to post such creative wonders. I've even become a blog stalker, reading every post of hers, ecstatic when she puts a new one on! Is it weird that I know so much about her, yet we've never met? Perhaps this is something serious that will soon be labeled a sickness and a 12 step program will be developed.But will my insurance cover it? Or maybe a scientist will proclaim that I simply have genetic tendencies for blog stalking and can't be cured. What then? Will Obama's health care plan take care of me? Is there any hope for me?!



So Santa, all I want for Christmas is some blog followers who are not ones that I have given birth to. Is that too much to ask? I know that you aren't into healing, that's a Jesus thing, or I'd ask you to rid me of this obsession. Until then, see what you can do. You have any elves that might be interested?



-Me

While Others March to the Beat of a Different Drum

I love the Christmas season, especially the holiday concerts, don't you? You get to see your kid up on stage, doing something that (most) would NEVER do on their own. It was Karli's year to be up there with her choir class. She dodges the camera continuously, but she couldn't avoid it this time!

I especially love this: The teacher said that you must wear a white shirt and black pants or skirt. Karli didn't have any black pants so she had to wear the skirt-a near death experience. But you know, the teacher said nothing about the shoes. Although I packed the nice shoes in her bag, the polka -dotted brown tennies mysteriously made their way onto her feet. ( Note the feet at the end). However, as the picture details the silent shoe rebellion, another set of toes decided to don the similar fair.But hey, at least the kid had red and green socks on, right?

Why is it that when we are Karli's age we love to be just a little bit different, but lose that later? Or at least I have. How many of us are so quick to want to fit in, to be like everyone else, when really, everyone else is just trying to be like everyone else, and really, who is it that we are then following? I mean, really?!

Maybe I need to buy me some polka-dotted brown tennies.

Uhhh... what? I have something in my teeth?

Have you ever had one of those days? Thinkin' that your all that and a bag of chips, only to discover that your zipper is down. Or a big clump of hay is in your hair. Or there is a gross, rotting veggie stuck between your teeth. I thank God that nothing too humilitating has happened to me while teaching...yet.

The other day one of my 8th graders decided to have a staring contest with me...while I was giving them their assignment... very annoying...and I was NOT going to let her win. However, she blinked first (heehee). The next day I moved her cute little sassyness away from her friends...because I can.

Yeah, it's fun being the teacher.

Let it snow!!!!!!!

Hooray!!!It snowed!!! Can you see it? Look, the roof is white, o.k.?!

Missed it? still can't see it? O.k., here's a close-up view.

So it didn't snow for very long, but the flakes were huge! and at least for now, for this moment, we have snow. Makes it feel more like Christmas!

Christmas Traditions

Last weekend we decided that it was time to haul all of the Christmas decorations down from the attic and really you know what that means...time to haul all of the nutcrackers down. Now last Christmas I got smarter and piled as many of those little men into big boxes and hefted them up into the attic. But I ran out of boxes, so we still had quite a few nutcrackers in their own individual boxes. Good Grief! Loads upon loads of no-necked, hairy little deformed, barrel-chested, skinny-legged men sporting gaudy capes with gold rickrack and plastic jewels all around. It's really enough to give a little kid some intense nightmares.

Allie and Garrison, will you please move back so that I can unload all of your nutcrackers onto you?

Why did it seem such a good idea and so important to start this quaint, homey tradition when the kids were young?Giving a nutcracker to each kid every year times 5 kids equals an attic full of creepy little men. It seemed wonderful at the time.But no more; time to put a stop to it.Which leads me to wonder; what got out of hand, the tradition or the production of kids?

Allie, just look at all these little men, ready for Baby Henry's first Christmas! HeeHeeHee... I can't wait!