This weekend, I started to bug Tyler about studying for his upcoming SATs. My favorite 16 year old took a quick look at the phone book sized SAT guide I purchased, and headed out to meet a girl.

Okay, so I see his priorities are exactly where they should be for a high school Junior.

 Last night, I gently reminded him that he was not going to learn the material by osmosis.

He agreed, and told me he was going to be a rock star. Did I mention he’s been teaching himself guitar, compliments of YouTube lessons, for about a month?

He might be pretty good for a newbie, but Eddie Van Halen he probably ain’t.

I told him even rock stars needed college degrees so that they would not get robbed blind, and that he needed to study.

He humored me (see photo) for all of 15 minutes, right before a cute red head came to pick him up so they could go watch her little brother play basketball.

 About those priorities….

 Robert and I spent last night playing Wii, while Chase and Jordan did a great job of being couch side commentators on our bowling skills.

 Tyler came strolling in, post basketball game and cute red head, and joined in the sideline conversation.

 Out of nowhere, Jordan said, “hey, Tyler, I searched all over Google and I cannot find anything about Easter Island and bunny ears.”

 I was just about to take my turn bowling, the Wii controller nearly went right through the TV.

 ”What did you just say,” I turned around and asked, praying he was kidding.

 ”I needed information on Easter Island, and Tyler told me that it’s an island with a bunch of bunny ears.”

 I was just about to interject my utter and complete shock, but before I could do that, Tyler added insult to injury.

Bunny Ears?

He very seriously said, “Jordan! I didn’t say it was bunny ears, I’m not STUPID! I told you it was an island with STATUES OF RABBIT HEADS!”

Could this get any worse?

Yes, he was totally serious.

Man, I hope you’re gonna be a rock star,boy, because you certainly aren’t winning on Jeopardy.

 I stared at them both in disbelief.

 I looked at Tyler and said, “Tyler. Did you REALLY think that Easter Island is full of statues of rabbit heads?”

 He looked kind of sheepish and said, “well, I thought I heard that?”

 I know, I know, most adults don’t know what’s on Easter Island, or why it’s called that for that matter.

 But rabbit heads? Really?

At the last minute, Chase, our walking, Cliff-Claven-encylopedia of a child, strolled in and although he worships Tyler, he couldn’t pass this one up.

 ”Did you really say that? Really? Don’t you know that Easter Island is older than Stonehenge and has statues that the scientists…..” and he proceeded to demonstrate why he is so very much like my husband when it comes to retaining, and spitting out, random bits of information. He has done this since he could speak and once he starts, you cannot stop him until he tells you everything you don’t want to know about any given subject (a month ago I was putting on lipstick and just as I went to apply it he said, “by the way, did you know women ingest 14 pounds of lipstick a year?”)

Chase is like the perfect blend of Leif Garrett, if you are old enough to remember him, and Alec Trebec.

Man, we’ve got a looonngg way to go before graduation.

I’m trying to be thankful right now.

At least if he was looking for bunny ears, he didn’t have Jordan searching for them in the center of a magazine.

 (Do you remember your SAT exams? I don’t think I did very well, I don’t remember my exact scores though. And, I know they are much harder now. It’s a rite of passage for both of us. Where’s that red wine?)

 “True terror is to wake up one morning and discover that your high school class is running the country.”

 — Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

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But, in my comic book strip of a life, things never happen quite how I intend so I’ve changed gears and the other post will have to wait. Sorry, Mr. D. You got a reprieve.

I flew from Houston to Los Angeles today for a week long work trip. I’ve flown my whole life, all across the globe, but I still don’t like it. I’ve gotten better at it, I accept it, but there is just something to me that feels completely unnatural about being 35,000 feet in the air. I think today I earned my wings though. I earned something, that’s for sure.

A few things you never really want to hear on a plane:

1.) Over the intercom, from the Captain: Sorry for the slight delay, we’ve had a maintenance issue, nothing serious, I promise, we’ll be leaving in a jiffy.

Yep, to me that is just TMI, okay? Like I really need to know that I am now officially trapped on a jumbo jet with 100+ other people that has a ‘maintenance issue?’ He might as well have said, ‘we’re leaving as soon as we fix the broken wing, nothing big.’ Note to all Captains on big flying jets: customers don’t want to hear that there are maintenance issues. Just lie and tell us that the runway is backed up. If there is a maintenence issue and the plane goes down, no one will care anyways that you were kind enough to warn us ahead of time.

2.) Following the Captain’s honest confession about the state of our plane, the very nice woman next to me who was about my age, flying to California for a training, looks at me and says: ‘I’ve never flown before. Ever. I’m a little nervous.’

Whoa buddy, she wasn’t kidding. Bless her heart (which is so not something I would normally say, but she really needed it,) she was a mess. I spent a good two hours of our 3 hour flight, most of it during take off and landing, trying to a.)keep her calm and b.)keep her previous meals out of my lap.

Now, those of you who know me well should right about now either be dying laughing, or dying of shock, or both. Yes me, Shannon, the person who hates to fly more than just about anyone and has white knuckled many flights after downing 3 beers in the airport bar and 2 little bottles of wine on the plane, spent two very calm hours trying to convince this woman we were not all gonna die, and she was not gonna lose her lunch on me. I even impressed myself. I used every fear of flying speech I normally need to tell myself, right on her.

She was so sweet, she really was. But there is only so far you can scooch away from someone sitting next to you in coach. I was by the window, she was in the middle seat.

This was a smooth flight. But, she was greener than Kermit the frog and I was thinking, one small bump and it’s either me or the nice guy to her right and I hope she points his way. I mean it was really close, she sweated, she held her hand over her mouth, I prayed. I was really, really thinking we were about to see Linda Blair in coach.

And all I could think was, if she loses it, I might lose it next and we’ll have a domino puke session 35,000 feet in the air cause who knows how the people around us are gonna react.

We got through it. Her meals remain a mystery. Whew.

3.) Last thing you don’t wanna hear on a plane trip? ‘The bathroom door locks don’t work.’ Now it’s a good thing to hear that before you go in that crawl space of germs to try and use the restroom.

It’s not a good thing to hear once you are in there trying to use the facilities and suddenly realize that although the latch is slid to the right in what is supposed to be a locked position, not only does the door not lock, it really doesn’t stay shut.

And guess how you find that out? After about three people walk in while you are peeing (or trying to in those horrific little closets with the nasty green water and you can almost feel the germy eyes staring back at you…)

You know how airplane bathrooms are. People lined up, squishing by each other and the stewardesses to get by. Apparently no one mentioned to the staff that the lock was broken until yours truly made it in there.

I tried to consecutively pee and push the lock back into place(sorry for the details) but it wasn’t happening. I gave up, let go of the lock, and shocked the sam hell out of 2 more people who started to open the door and saw my smiling face looking back up at them.

Then I tried to hold the darn lock and get my blue jeans up and buttoned and if you ever find yourself in this situation, I can tell you first hand, it’s damn near impossible to hold an airplane bathroom lock and button blue jean shorts.

By that time, I could of cared less and let go of the lock so I could get out of there. Finally, I was able to get out of the bathroom with no toilet paper hanging out of my pants, and everything zipped and buttoned, and went and sat back down next to my new green friend who was sipping a Sprite and taking deep breaths.

All I could think about was, when did I miss the lady with the wine cart? And is she coming back?

(QOTB: What’s the worst, strangest, or weirdest flying experience you’ve had. And no we don’t wanna know if you’re a member of the Mile High Club.)

PS…I’ve never been to Los Angeles before. Can someone tell me what to do if an earthquake hits and you’re on the tenth floor of a hotel? I’m assuming getting the doorway won’t do much good?

Originally posted July 2010.

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I spent the better part of today trying to recuperate from what is evidently a raging UTI (sorry, dudes, if you don’t know what that is, ask your wife.)

By last night, it was clear that I was getting worse, not better, after my Wednesday doctor visit. Fortunately, I had a follow up appointment scheduled for today. I would normally not be moving quickly for an 8:20 am doctor appointment, on a Saturday morning. I felt so bad though, I could not get there quick enough.

The doctor was perplexed as the lab results indiciated  that I should have been responding to the medication. My body indicated something totally different. I could have cared less, new drugs, man, I needed some new medication FAST.

It was obvious I was going downhill, so he proposed an antibiotic injection, plus a new dose of a different oral antibiotic. Whatever, stick a needle in my butt if it will make me feel better. I got the shot  and muddled home, hoping it would kick in quick, and that I could go back to sleep and wait for the magic medicine to take effect.

‘You poor soul,’ I am sure you are thinking, ‘I hope you were able to rest and eat chicken soup and feel better.’

Can’t you just hear the violins playing?

Well, I might have been able to hear the violins if, when I walked in my house, we hadn’t adopted two extra kids overnight and they weren’t all in my living room waiting for my husband to finish making the pancakes he was cooking to the theme of Guns N Roses, ‘Welcome To The Jungle.’

So, about that plan to rest? It crashed and burned quicker than the Hindenburg.

I got in bed, pulled the covers up, put on my Ipod, and tried to sleep.

 The thing is, I don’t care how quiet tween boys try to sound, it’s physically impossible, for them to control the sounds of their size 12 feet going up and down stairs. I don’t care if they are on their tippie toes wearing freakin’ ballerina slippers, they cannot do it. And, no matter how much you plead, beg, scream, or bribe them to just PLEASE whisper, their version of a whisper and mine just are not the same.

 Right before I took drastic measures, they were trying to whisper. But, when someone forgot to whisper, the others would go “SHHHHHHH” which, combined, was louder than all of their normal voices.

 FUUUUGGGHHET ABOUT IT!

 I was tired, frustrated, cranky, and I had giant lump on my a** that hurt like hell. You can imagine where this all went.

 Tyler’s Facebook status read: 

 Damn straight. Could ya’ spread the word, please? And clean up the house while you’re at it?

 Enter my super neighbor. She texted me, and I replied back the fact that we might not be neighbors for much longer.

 She suggested I go use her house to rest, since they were not home. And THAT is why she is my super neighbor.

I packed up my pillow, Ipod, computer, book, Diet Coke, Cheez Its and blanket, and headed out the door. I heard Tyler ask on the way out, “where are you going?” and I mumbled that I was going to rest before I ended up in the ER Psych Ward.

I padded next door in my socks and pink pajamas and plopped down on her couch.

It was so quiet, all I could hear was the clock ticking. Peace.

Well, peace for about three minutes, until my cell phone vibrated with Jordan looking for me.

I told my husband that the first kid who rang her doorbell was not making it home in one piece, and I turned the phone off.

I went to sleep, finally, just me, the ticking clock and my blanket.

I’m home now. My rear end still hurts. Tyler changed his Facebook status. I think I’m recovering.

Just don’t ever ask boys to tip toe or whisper.

You’ve got a better shot at winning the Power Ball.

“You never know how loud you are until you have to be quiet.” Sarena, age 10

When your mother is mad and asks you, “Do I look stupid?” it’s best not to answer her. Megham, 13

 Every time I am at home and I am getting on my parent’s nerves, they wish I were at camp. And every time I’m at camp and nothing’s bothering them, they miss me. – Ashley, age 12

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