A domesticated animal

Me. I'm the domesticated animal. I am positively and absolutely domesticated and happy as a pig in mud. Now, Larry the Cable Guy would say: happy as an Ethiopian at a Krispy Kreme. But not me, I'm just happy as a pig in mud because Ethiopian jokes are so non-PC. And totally 1980's. I love me some 80's, but wow.....where am I going with this?

Oh yeah.

Anyway, folks, guess what I did today. Just guess! I got up, got the kids off to school, rocked Nonner for awhile (but he's sicky and frankly couldn't breathe unless he was propped up in his carseat so we didn't rock long) then I ironed. I ironed. Dudes, I flippin' LOVE to iron. There's something insanely cathartic about ironing for me. I literally ironed all morning and was happy doing it. Well, I ironed all morning, but I punctuated it with random Twittering and trying to figure out why I had phantom, rogue tech-Tweets going out to my followers. In my defense, Mrs. Coach's Tweets were messed up, too. However, Kellyology had a theory - It was those Bavarians or Swedes or Russians or whoever they are that are trying to smash protons 13 miles underground. Yeah. Worldwide proton stampeding. Or something.

Biscuit is doing great. In fact, this morning he was halfway down the driveway, following the kids, before I had to make the kids come back so he'd come back. Bless his heart, he loves those kids. As soon as he got back up to the house I patted him on the head, he sighed at me, then flopped down under the van, looking pitiful. He really wanted to be in on the action.

Tater called our county commissioner yesterday and he was so upset over the whole situation that he said that in spite of his limited budget he would put a bus stop sign at our driveway. Score! She also called the school and spoke to the person in charge of the buses. The bus usually picks up our kids, goes on past our house, turns around in the neighbors drive and goes back out to the highway. We have asked him to turn around, THEN pick up the kids, but he just doesn't seem to grasp why we ask. So after explaining the speeding on our road and our concern for the kids' safety, the bus lady rode the bus route tonight, checked out the situation and agreed that there was no reason for the kids to cross both lanes to get on and off the bus. In the morning, they will be picked up right at the driveway, curbside service. Now to get a county deputy out here to monitor the speeders in the morning....that call's going to be mine since I got friends in low places. I mean, I got friends. Somewhere. I swear. Today I intermittently watched the cars go by out here. I was absolutely stupefied at how fast the UPS truck went by! Dudes....it's not the freakin' Autobahn, it's a county dirt road. Yeesh.

I have cooked dinner EVERY NIGHT now for two weeks now. My husband thinks he's accidently stumbled into the wrong house, but he doesn't want to say anything because he's afraid he'll get sent back to his real wife. Today I made a cake. It was just a yellow cake mix with homemade chocolate frosting, but you'd have thought I'd gotten the Ace of Cakes to come over and whip something up in my little bitty kitchen. A wonderful lurker to my blog alerted me that Pioneer Woman has picky-family-friendly recipes on her site, so I, being the only Oklahoman alive that doesn't read her blog regularly (I swear I'm a true Okie. Swear it.) moseyed (Mosied?) (Yeah, mosied) over there and spent Monday morning salivating on my keyboard. (Eh, it was time for a new one anyway.) Tonight I made her Crash Hot Potatoes to go with the BBQ chicken sandwiches I made. (with homemade BBQ sauce) (I know! It IS amazing!) YUM. Paul, who never gives feedback on meals, said he loved them. I personally am going to try making them with butter next time instead of olive oil because I think I'm Paula Deen's lovechild and I love me some buttah, y'all. They were good, but I'm going to experiment with them anyway.

The kids are doing great in school. Sam is totally immersed in science this year. Every day he asks me how to split an atom and every day I tell him I don't know. I swear he thinks I sit around all day just researching atomic energy. I cannot wait to tell him that some foreign dudes smashed up a bunch of protons or something today. He'll be elated. Kady is loving first grade. She comes home every night telling me about which boy chased her that day. Hey, at first she was chasing them. I explained to her that mommas don't like it when girls chase their boys. Of course, she doesn't know that that'll be like 10 years from now, but we'll just keep that our little secret. So now she insists the boys chase her. I don't know what I'm going to do with that child. Abby is doing amazing in math this year. She loves her math teacher and all math anxiety is gone. She and I sat on the couch last week working through some problems involving exponents and other number-y nonsense. It only took a phone call to Pops and then a phone call to my step-sister, the former math teacher, before we finally understood what we were doing. She bombed a test in Science and cried tears and tears over it. I had heard this teacher was notoriously tough on tests and tried to emphasize to her the need to study like she'd never studied before, but she obviously thought I was an adult and therefore knew nothing. She got a whopping 64% on it. I felt so sorry for her that I cried, too. "No one cries alone in my presence," said Truvy in Steel Magolias, and I hold to that as well.

I hope that this has satisfied Mrs. Coach's insatiable desire to read my blog. If only the rest of the world was as eager as she is. I'd be famous and skinny.......okay..... just famous.