Wordless Wednesday--Artsy Fartsy

I make absolutely no claims to being a photographer.
That being said, I really enjoy playing with my camera.

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For more photos, check out 5 Minutes for Mom.

Re-Introduction

With a new blog title, I thought I'd reintroduce the characters you meet here and see every so often.

This is M. M= mass. He's my chunk-of-love, my Bubba. Those 7 month-old rolls? They're about 95% breast milk, and about 5% baby food. He's huge.



















This is C. C=speed of light. She's fast and she's 2. 'Nough said.













This is E. E=energy. She's 5 and she's wiry. Now, when Einstein came up with his theory of relativity, I'm sure he didn't have my kids in mind. However, my E? She really does equal MC2. She's the firstborn child of two firstborn children. She's doomed.



















This is my hubs, my love, my friend, Mr. Einstein. He's an elementary school teacher. How cool is that?













This is me, Hillary, aka Mrs. Einstein. I'm a little bit sassy, little bit blunt, little bit sarcastic. I look remarkably like my sister in this picture, which is funny because we don't really look much alike.













So, this is us. I'm a math major who taught English married to an English teacher who taught math, and these are our progeny.

Hi!

Because It Makes Me Happy

I did it. I made the change.

Why?

Because it makes me happy.

I'm not sure where it's going to take me, but I'm sure going to enjoy the ride.

And don't worry; nothing's really changed. I'm still me.

Just a happier me.

Aloha Friday #90

I, obviously, burn easily. And I've had some doozies, let me tell you.

So, what is the worst place on your body you've ever burned?

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For more questions you know you want to answer, visit An Island Life.

SPF 0

The second half of our vacation was spent in Bremerton at my in-law's.

They have a boat.

So...

We saw sailboats,


a bridge,


and a beloved mountain.


Cinderella innertubed,


Sleeping Beauty floated,


the Little Prince looked cute,


and Prince Charming kneeboarded.


And I? I got sunburned.

Oh, yes. After thirty-*mumble, mumble* years, I still haven't learned my lesson.

My arms look like lobster claws, and my chest looks just as bad. My face and scalp were protected by my hat, and, for some reason, I had decided to wear pants on a scorching hot day.

Have you ever tried nursing a baby with flailing arms and dragon claws while sunburned? It's not pretty, my friends, not pretty at all.

And, of course, it was too hot and humid to wear long sleeves.

If I'd had any with me, that is.

Wordless Wednesday--Hide 'n' Seek

This is my goofball second daughter playing hide and seek while we were on vacation.

Amazingly, no one could find her.

Seriously.

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For more pictures, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.

"Normal" Is Only a Setting On the Dryer

Why is it that getting home from a vacation is so stressful?

Despite two weeks of doing not much more than relaxing, I'm wiped out.

Why is it that the routine of activities, house-cleaning, general maintenance, summer jobs, fun, and naps is so difficult to reestablish?

Of course Prince Charming had to go to work this morning. Of course he did.

Why is it that the arguing, screaming, clutter, and dirtying of dishes are the first things to fall back into place?

Why?

Oh, relaxing vacation! Where art thou? Thou art but a vague, distant memory, though ended only yesterday.

Oh, for something easy, something familiar, something normal, that doesn't include arguing, mediating, or high-pitched voices. Maybe I should just go do laundry...

We've Got Tickets to Ride

Yesterday, at the butt-crack of dawn, we set off on vacation to the Live Music Capitol of the world: Austin, TX.

Beautiful, sunny, oh-so-hot Austin.

I should probably lose five pounds this week just from sweating, if I ever leave the house, that is.

Anyway, our trip started uneventfully at the airport.

Until we got to the gate, that is.

All seven of us (my five, plus my in-laws) had JUST walked up to the gate, when we heard the page: "Prince Charming's father, party of seven, please come to the ticket counter. Prince Charming's father, party of seven, please come to the ticket counter."

Uh, oh.

We all thought we were being kicked off the plane, for some reason or another. Until my father-in-law got back to us.

"We've been upgraded."

Upgraded?

"All seven of us have been upgraded to first class!"

?!?

Seriously, we got to fly first class. All seven of us.

Yee haw!

And let me tell you, first class is so worth it! Heated towels, breakfast, drinks, super nice flight attendants, wide seats.

THAT is the life!

I could definitely get used to that.

White-Out

To all of you who were subjected to my oh-so-whiteness today at the public pool,


I apologize.


To all of you who were dazzled by my new, brightly-patterned swimsuit contrasting with my winter all-year-long whiteness,


I'm sorry.


At least I shaved.

You're welcome.

Proposal

So, I've been avoiding posting this, and I'm not sure why.

I want a change. At least, I think I do.

I've been blogging here at The Queen I Am Not for two almost years now. I originally named this blog because of my older daughter's complete and absolute obsession with princesses. That, and every time she played "princess," I never got to be the queen; I was always the bad stepmother, or the prince.

Although she's still into princesses, and has taught her younger sister to love them, as well, princesses don't consume her life anymore.

And now and then, I do actually get to be the queen. When I'm asked to play "princess" anymore. Which isn't often now that my younger daughter is old enough to play along.

While I still like my blog name, and while it's still appropriate, I'm thinking about making a change.

This is what I'm thinking about, and have been for over two weeks now:

I'm considering changing my blog title to E=MC2 (that's a squared, if I can figure out how to do a superscript on here).

Why? Well, for a number of reasons: 1. I'm a math teacher. 2. My husband was a math teacher until yesterday (stupid funding cuts!). 3. E, M, and C are (conveniently) the initials of my children. 4. E, M, and C actually correspond well to my children's personalities.

Before I make any changes, though, I really want your feedback.

I know I haven't posted much lately, but it's partly because this has been weighing on my mind, and I've been trying to avoid it.

I think I want a fresh start, but I really like the comfortable nature of the old/current.

I don't know. What do you think?

Please let me know in the comments. Also, I'll try to get a poll up in the sidebar, if I can figure it out.

Seriously. I want your input. I really do value your opinions!

So, what do you think?

Wordless Wednesday--My Rose Garden, Minus the Roses

And, minus my picture, apparently.

*sigh*

Sorry to everyone who stopped by.
My pictures have been vomited out by Blogger yet again.

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For more Wordless Wednesday, visit 5 Minutes for Mom.

Toe Jam

Yesterday, as often happens when my girls are outside playing together, Sleeping Beauty started to shriek.

I, not being a helicopter parent, ignored it.

Usually her shrieking subsides quickly, or Cinderella manages to find a way to calm her down. Usually Sleeping Beauty is shrieking because of some perceived or real injustice done to her by her sister.

On this occasion, however, the shrieking didn't stop. It got worse. And it finally got to the point where I could hear tears through her shrieks.

I decided it was time to investigate. I put on my stern "mom face" and my nasty flip flops, and I got ready to verbally deal with Cinderella, who I had assumed caused the shrieking in the first place.

Once outside, I demanded, "What is going on?" Cinderella, glancing up from where she was squatting next to Sleeping Beauty, calmly replied, "She has a bug caught between her toes."

?

"What?"

"There's a bug caught between her toes."

?!?

I thought to myself, "It's probably just a little beetle or a pill bug. Well, I suppose it could be a little spider, since they've been playing with the leftover water in the collapsed pool. Maybe an ant?"

Um, no.

I peered over the top of Sleeping Beauty's head and my first reaction was to physically restrain myself from jumping back and shrieking myself.

My second reaction was to verbally restrain myself from asking Cinderella why she didn't just remove the bug herself. (What? I didn't want to touch the sucker.)

What I had seen was two very large wings and several very long legs jammed between the first two toes on her left foot.

A water skeeter.

A large water skeeter.

A very dead, very squished water skeeter.

Jammed in between her toes.

*shudder*

I did not want to touch that thing. So, I did the next best thing, and second thing to cross my mind: I grabbed Sleeping Beauty's left ankle, and flopped her foot around on the grass, hoping to dislodge the squished nastiness.

Didn't work.

I then proceeded to wipe the top of her foot on the grass (she's flexible), hoping the thing wouldn't separate into pieces, thereby forcing me to actually have to touch some part of it.

It must have worked, because by the time I stopped wiping to check our progress, the bug and his many wings, legs, and body parts, were gone.

At least, I think they were all gone. I didn't bother to check between Sleeping Beauty's toes.

And neither did she.

Under Construction

I've been making some changes around here.

As if there isn't enough construction going on around my house currently, I've been changing up my blog a bit.

I'll be posting a proposal to all of you soon, and I'd really like your input.

For now, just enjoy my new layout!

The Battle of Wills Is Over!

And she's finally finished! Just in time for lunch.

Typical.

On Being a Mom

My five year-old has been in her room crying for the last fifteen minutes.

She has been told to stay there until she's ready to eat, even though she's barely eaten anything since six o'clock last night, and is now complaining of a headache.

Why?

Because I made a difficult parenting decision.

Cinderella didn't like last night's dinner. After an hour of ignoring her complaints, after an hour of forcing her to sit at the table until her food was gone, I finally sent her off to bed early. The only condition we set on her not finishing her dinner was that she'd end up eating it for breakfast.

Breakfast came. And breakfast went.

She ate a few bites, declared her "dinner" was still yucky, and put it back in the fridge.

That was over two hours ago.

It has currently been fifteen hours since my daughter has eaten anything. And while it breaks my heart, I know I need to stick with my decision.

It's not unusual for Cinderella not to say she doesn't like her dinner. We still make her eat it.

It's happened several times before that she eats her dinner for breakfast the next day.

This, however, is the longest stretch.

She knows I'm not going to cave in. I know I'm not going to cave in.

Part of me wants to, though. Part of me wants to fill her tummy and send her outside to play.

The other part of me, the larger part, wants to ensure that she learns her lessons. Lessons she needs. Lessons she knows, but that, apparently, she still needs to be reminded of.

Lessons in obedience, consequence, and gratefulness.

It's a hard road, growing up.

It's an even harder road, parenting.

Am I a mean mom? Yes. Am I a loving mom? Yes. Do I want the best for my children? Most definitely, yes.

Am I going to make her eat her dinner? Yes. Because I'm mean? No.

Because I'm a mom.

Here she comes...