Oh oh oh oh what a feeling!

No, it's not a Toyota. It's my life.

Friday night Paul and the kids and I just hung out here at the ranch. After the day I had had, I didn't have much more in me. Tater had picked the kids up from school after letting them shop recklessly in Santa's Workshop then she and the kids hung out here awhile. When they left about 6:00, I stumbled into the kitchen, looked around blankly and said, "Screwit. Kids. If you want dinner I suggest you get to makin' it." I think they ate cereal. I wouldn't know. I was chain smoking on the carport.

I slept hard Friday night. 7 whole hours of blissful slumber. But was awakend at 5:30 am by my husband, who decided that my butt was where his hand needed to rest. He was really starting to make. me. mad. Finally after 45 minutes of moving his hand repeatedly, I grabbed his hand right across the knuckles, squeezed as hard as I could and said, "If I feel your hand go anywhere near my butt one more time I will kill you." When I felt his hand start to roam down my back towards my butt again I just got up. I really didn't want to kill him on the day of our annual Christmas party. The blood stains are just so hard to get out of the carpet when you're in a hurry.

So I got up, showered, threw KD in the shower with me and in the meantime, from the shower, was shouting instructions at the other two children like a drill sergeant. About every 10 minutes I'd run back to Paul, who was snoozing although I don't know how since he didn't have my butt to keep his hand warm, and tell him it was time to get up and get around. Finally at 9:10 I said, "We are leaving. Since you have decided to NOT join us then you have now been nominated to be the official sweeper and mopper of the kitchen and dining room floor. Have fun with your new assignment and God bless you. Good-bye." And we left.

The kids and I loaded up and headed to town, made two deposits at the bank, then drove to the dojo. Sam did his second formal karate test and is now a second-stripe white belt. His next test will be for yellow and oh how we shall rejoice with much taking of pictures and much gushing on the blog. He did so good! He takes his karate very seriously and even though he was the smallest guy out there, I must say he kept up with the big boys quite well. There was some confusion about his rank and Sensei and I both thought he was testing for yellow this time around, but Sensei called Thursday night to tell us that he was testing for his second stripe instead. Sam was pretty disappointed and when I got home he was crying quietly on his bed. I asked him what he thought a cake would turn out like if one day I decided to just not put the flour in it. He thought a minute and said, "Well, I wouldn't want to eat it!" I said, "Well, yeah, it wouldn't taste quite right because I left out a step. And if you don't do all the steps in order with your karate then you might not be the best black belt you can be. So suck it up, big guy. You'll get that yellow belt next time, no worries." And he was fine. I just wish that for the rest of his life I can solve his problems that easily.

After the karate test we had 45 minutes before the girls and my hair appointment, so we almost literally ran through Wal*Mart to pick up last-minute stuff for the party. The kids were worn out by the time we got to the car, bless their hearts. But I knew I was getting a hair cut and while I love my stylist, I HATE the way she fixes my hair. I was having a really good hair day considering how long and shaggy it was and at least wanted to look good in Wal*Mart. I know, I'm vain. Sue me.

Before we pulled into W*M I whipped out the cell phone to ask Paul if he wanted beer for the party. Only to find that my service had been temporarily interrupted because OOPS I FORGOT TO PAY MY BILL. I knew I was forgetting something! We had more money than we should've the last two months. So I pulled over, paid the bill by phone, they turned it back on and then I called Paul about the beer.

We made it to the salon with 5 minutes to spare and she got us right in. Abby had originally said she wanted her hair cut off to shoulder-length. But as we pulled into the parking space she said, "Uhhh... Mom... can I just get a trim instead? I'm just not ready to take that kind of plunge." So she was first in the chair with just a trim. Kady was next. Her long hair, her hair that had only been cut by one inch in her whole entire life, her gorgeous curly-only-on-the-end baby hair is now not long anymore. Before, when I'd pull it out straight it was down to the top of her butt crack. Now it is just barely brushing her shoulders. I'd say a good six inches came off. But it's positively adorable and she loves it. Right after her shower and with a lot of mousse, then drying with the diffuser she was some almost curls. It's really just easier to blow dry it straight now. It's layered at the ends so I can flip it up pretty easily. I think Jen is in mourning. She hasn't even seen it yet, but when I told her she got it cut she totally did a very Darth Vader style "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!". She cute still, trust me.

Then I got mine cut. The usual. No straying here. I just get my 'fro trimmed. There's not much else you can do to very, very naturally curly hair. I look like a freaking poodle most of the time.

Then we made a quick run by the Sonic because I promised Sam a Sonic pop. He got a slush instead, but hey, I got him whatever he wanted because he sat so still while the black belts were in the office signing rank papers and the others boys fidgeted and thumped the mats and picked at their toe lint and looked around and one even picked his nose. But not Sam. He was so still I thought he'd fallen asleep. So by golly, that earns ya a Sonic pop around here. Or slush. Pick yer poison, cowboy.

We arrived home to find the house smelling like Spic N Span and the dining room and kitchen floor was so shiny we were nearly blinded by the reflections. That husband of mine is a good floor mopper and bathtub scrubber. I got the kids down for a rest then surfed the 'net for our homemade gag gifts. We finally found what we wanted, then I got Abby up (She's 9, you know. Much too old for a nap, she says.) and gave her a real knife and let her cut up the onions and water chestnuts for the dip. She started out all precise and careful. By the end you'd have thought she was a professional chef. Mr. Diva said the dip was a little crunchier than usual. I explained that Abby got a little over-confident with her cutting abilities and rather than proper form, she went for style. Then I made a cake. THE cake. The cake that dreams are made of. Except it turned out to be a nightmare when everyone cut into it later. It wasn't quite done. Talk about disappointing.

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of cleaning and cooking and I'd relate to you all the wonders of it all, but frankly I'm not sure I remember and you probably wouldn't be all that interested in how I clean my counter tops anyway.

-------------------

Okay, so I like, wrote that first part on Monday. It's now Thursday. LOTS of stuff has happened since then. I'll just run them down for you real quick like:

*Party - raging success. A few couples backed out last minute - one due to puking child, another due to sick sitter. My friend from high school, Kevin, and his wife came and I screamed so loud when I saw them at my door that I think that for a split second Kevin wanted to grab Amanda and just run as fast as they could. He looked a bit panicked. We exchanged homemade gag gifts and there was much merriment over those. Then came the traditional fill-in-the-blanks Night Before Christmas reading which this year featured the hanging of the thongs by the fireplace and other such nonsense. I'll try to post it in its entirety later.

Casino Winnings - Buffalo Run is having a four-night $10,000 Christmas Cash giveaway thingy over the course of two weeks. Sunday night was the first night so Tater, Paul and I, of course, attended. Paul and I had some money to spend and proceded to spend it. I knew we had 4 hours to kill so I was handing it to him sparingly. I won $75 or so playing one game and then sat down at a quarter slot and won another $75. So with our newfound $150 worth of wealth (hey it's Christmastime - any extra money seems like wealth) we decided to play on it and not our own money. After I bought the three of us all a frito pie we decided to check out the new Joe's Outback section of the casino. Tater and I sat down to play RedBall and I started winning there, too. I hit 6 out of 7 numbers and won $80something. Mr. Diva was feeling a little frisky and would covertly cop a feel occasionally and it seemed like every time he did it, I'd win. So then he deemed himself lucky and thought that "rubbing my tatas" was all in the name of winning. I finally dug into my purse and handed him $40 and told him to go away. Far away. An hour or so later he came back and was grinnin'. I said, "You're grinnin' . . . what'd you win?" He showed us an $80 ticket. Then he stuck his chest out and said, "Rub my tatas." I told him to get bent. Tater nearly fell out of her chair laughing. He said, "Just rub them! It'll be worth it, trust me." So I slapped him in the chest and then he made Tater do it as well. We must have relatives in Arkansas somewhere. Anyway, after he had been properly felt up, he held out the cashout ticket that said $1019. WHOO HOO!! With that money we were able to buy his truck and cycle tags, he bought my Christmas presents and paid our house/car insurance. It was a good night.

*Strep - While we were at the party Saturday night, Mom watched all five grandchildren. She failed to call Tater when her youngest tot started yakking and all day Sunday that baby ran a high temp and complained of the back of his head hurting, his chest hurting, his belly hurting and his legs aching. Monday morning Tater took him to the doctor and even though he hadn't had a sore throat, he tested positive for strep. And the doctor informed her that anyone who had shown any symtoms (ie, vomiting, stomach pain, etc) needed to be tested as well. So I called Jill because Chandler was the pukey kid on Saturday. I also called our doctor and yes, they wanted to see Kady. Tuesday I took the day off and took her to the doctor. He wouldn't even do a strep test, the big booger. Said she looked fine and if she got sicker to call. He's a booger. So I relayed this information to Jill and she cancelled Chan's appt. as well. Then since I was already in town and she wanted to go to work I offered to just pick him up and take him home with me. Why was this bad?

*Regurgitated Spaghetti O's - Yep. He puked on my king-sized comforter and all over my bed. There is just nothing quite like cleaning up puked-up SpaghettiO's and milk.... Which leads me to the next topic...

*The Laundromat - Even though it was karate night, I had decided far earlier in the day that I was staying home that night. But instead at 7pm the kids and I loaded up the pukey comforter and drove into town to the laundromat. I haven't been in a laundromat since I was 18 and living in Stillwater. I also hadn't had any dreams of ever going back to one either. The kids thought it was the best field trip we ever could've taken. While I sat there and tried my best to ignore the enormous family of ill-mannered Hispanic children who were playing bumper cars with the laundry carts, my children were entertained by watching the washing machine tumble-wash my comforter. If I heard it once I heard it a thousand times, "MOM!! It's spinning the OTHER way now!" and then they'd all clamor over to watch it once more. Then when it came time to dry the durn thing they kept themselves occupied by giving me a minute-by-minute alert as to how much time was left. By the time the last three minutes were on the counter I had had enough of the little snot-faced boy backing my youngest child into a corner and screaming something in Spanish at her until she cried and jerked my still-damp comforter out of there and left. I secretly hoped she gave him the pukes. I know, I'm horrible. But so was he.

Visit from Santa - Last night was the Diva Daycare Christmas party. There were 12 children in my living room along with parents and my mother. The kids were playing and the adults were visiting when there was a loud knock at the door. Our friend, Edie, opened the door and shouted, "YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE WHO I FOUND OUT HERE!" And in walked Edie, followed by Santa himself. For a full 15 seconds every child in the house was stock-still. Then the screaming and shouting and hollering and squealing began. Santa doled out gifts for the group then sat down in Mr. Diva's recliner and had his picture taken with each of them. Well, except for CBB - he screamed his head off and wanted nothing to do with the big guy. CLB allowed himself to be picked up and was perfectly happy. CBG could've cared less who had her. He was warm and snuggly and she was content.

This morning Sam said, "Mom, are you sure that was Santa last night?" I said, "Well, yes. My gosh, why would you ask that?" He looked down at the shoe he was tying and said, "Welllll . . . I dunno . . . there's just something that tells me that was not the real Santa." He went on to say that Santa would've driven his reindeer right up to the house and not ridden in Edie's car. He also said that Santa would never carry presents in in a trash bag. *sigh* Why do they have to grow up?

-----------------

And now you are caught up to date in the live of a very harried, very tired Redneck Diva.

This evening is our Brownie Troop's Christmas party and it's sure to be a chaotic festival of little girl squealing and such. I'm making a massive pot of spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread and I made cookies yesterday. The party will be over with at 6:30 and our sitter is scheduled to be here promptly at 6:30. Then Paul and I are again going to the casino to try our luck at winning a drawing or two. It'd sure be nice to win a $500 drawing. Or jackpot a machine. Heck, I'm not picky.

Friday is the ONLY day this week that we don't have something on the calendar. And honestly, Paul and I need to go do his mother's Christmas shopping, but I'm not sure how we'll do it since our sitter is already staying with the kids tonight and frankly, $6 an hour gets pricey if you do it too often. Don't get me wrong, she's an awesome sitter and we love her to pieces, but we can't use her too much without having to just offer her one of the children as payment.

Saturday we are supposed to go to Branson to see Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat yet again. Sunday will be the last show in Branson. *tear* Starlit saw it last weekend and she agrees with me about ol' Joseph's abs - they are quite fantastic. Quite. But we're not sure about the Branson trip because The Weather Channel is saying we're supposed to get a pretty good snowstorm here on Saturday. It's not supposed to hit Branson until Sunday, but we're kind of worried that we'll try to come home and not be able to make it the closer we get to Oklahoma. There will be much watching of the weather in the next few days. Tater and her crew are going down on Friday so they can go to Silver Dollar City because the real Santa goes there just to see her kids. How nice of him, huh? If we don't get to go on Saturday maybe they can at least go to SDC and make it back home early Saturday before the storm hits. Our kids are so excited about seeing Joseph again, though I'm fairly positive they will expect us to risk life and limb to head up there.

Well, CBG and I are going to go start making spaghetti sauce. Right now she's in her carseat next to me talking to her feet. Those feet of hers must be quite the conversationalists. Ewww...and I think she pooped her pants.