tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34682281535296391022024-03-13T03:29:56.711-05:00It's Good To Be The QueenLinda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.comBlogger287125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-66010014928894028512016-09-12T10:42:00.000-05:002016-09-12T10:42:47.381-05:00The Gift That Keeps On Giving<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every year for the last 20 years I have made the same first day of school speech to my Princes’ teachers.<br />“Hi, I’m Linda, Tim/Matthew/Christopher’s mom. If there is a problem with my kiddo, please call me and we will work it out. You will never hear, “Not MY precious darling!” from me. I have your back. Teacher burnout is not because of the children, its because of the parents.” <br />Then they usually tear up and ask me if I will be the homeroom mom.<br />This year Prince #3 is starting high school. I know. How did that happen so quickly? I swear that just yesterday I was stepping on Legos and sweeping leftover Goldfish crackers into my mouth. Wait, I still do the Goldfish thing.<br />On the eve of the first day of school I sat him down and gave him this speech.<br />“Christopher, darling, light of my life, it is high school time. To celebrate this grand occasion I am giving you the gift of more autonomy. I will drive carpool when it is my turn, I will cheer for you at sporting events and I will write the huge #$&%ing tuition check every month. And that’s it. You are on your own. Mommy is tired.”<br />Last Tuesday we were put to the test.<br />I had to be at work at 8am. I walked out the front door to mount my awesome Tiffany blue scooter. I’m the one zooming around with the red lady bug helmet on. I am quite the site. Don’t run me over. <br />Up rolls the family we drive carpool with. <br />“Well, hi there,” I say. My brain spins. Is it my day to drive? Have I screwed up? How am I going to fit 2 kids on the back of Turk the Scooter? Wait, I only pick up, I never take them to school. What the hell? <br />“Is he in there?” I casually ask gesturing back towards the castle. <br />“I don’t know Linda. IS he in there?” For just a nanosecond I think this knowledge is something I should grasp but then dismiss it.<br />“Let me check.”<br />I saunter to the door before breaking into a quick run to the lost cavern of boy smell. I open the door and what a sight to behold. Snoring softly with his head nestled on his pillow is Mr. Freshman, completely oblivious to the productive world around him.<br />“Hey, Worm, your ride is here.”<br />“Huh, what? Uh. Oh crap!” Panic ensues.<br />“Not my circus, not my monkeys Mr. Man. I’m not going to be late. See ya!”<br />I rode off, slightly giggling and wondering if he made it there on time.<br />It has been really interesting to see the reactions of other moms when I tell them of that morning’s events. Some are aghast, some nod and consider this, most wish they were me. I leave them with this- “We aren’t doing these kids any favors by continuing to rescue them. I would rather them screw up now then try to learn these lessons at college when it is costing me tens of thousands.”<br />Can I get an Amen?<br />Reign On!<br />Queen Linda</span></span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-29976809357270031652016-04-20T10:40:00.000-05:002016-04-20T10:40:17.998-05:00Prince #1 Leaves the Castle<div class="MsoNormal">
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--></style><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I can’t quite remember the first time I looked at my
adorable first born son and thought, “Jeez, when does he leave home?”</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When he was 5 months old still
hadn’t slept for more than 2 hours at a time?
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When he changed his artistic medium from the Crayola 4 pack
to a diaper pail palette for his wall art during his Picassoesque brown period?
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">When he suddenly had big hairy legs, a blooming complexion
and a vocabulary downsized to one-word sentences? Yeah. Fine. Whatever.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maybe it was when he called and
said, “Mom, I’m fine. But the car….”
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It doesn’t really matter, the
day of departure is at hand.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Since infancy I have trotted out my best major league umpire
imitation and promised “Four years, any state school and yerrrrrr out!” After
completing his degree at A&M Tim is headed to the Department of Justice. I
could tell you more but I’d have to kill you.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A week ago I ambled into his room with my tape measure.
“Don’t mind me, “ I said as I found the perfect spot for my desk. “Great
natural light in here Tim.”<span> </span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">
</span></span><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">“What are you going to do to my
room?”
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">“I don’t know honey. Artist studio. Yoga retreat. Padded
cell. Whatever I want it to be.”
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yesterday I put paint swatches
on the wall.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But wait! I just had him.<span> </span>I still have the baby weight to prove it. <span></span>The time goes so quickly!<span> </span>In the blink of an eye my gap-toothed
toddler has disappeared and has been replaced by a handsome man that I hope
will remember to floss. It seems like he just got here and now he’s leaving.
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I see lots of young moms and kiddos at my grocery store gig.
The moms will ask for advice, the kids will ask for stickers.<span> </span>I get to hear about school choices and
loose teeth. Testing and toys. I love to return to little kid land, if only for
a few minutes. When the groceries are rung up and paid for, I’ll hand the mom
the receipt and say, “Enjoy them.”
</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">And I don’t mean the juice boxes. </span>
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Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-80939558091696620922016-01-15T14:32:00.000-06:002016-01-15T14:32:01.560-06:00Oh! THAT'S What You Said!<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.itsgoodtobethequeen.com/2015/12/jeez-santa-is-watching.html">Last month</a> I expressed my wonder at what was up with Prince #3 using profanity at school. One would think he would be watching his step, so close to Christmas and all.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">When he got home from school that day I said, "$%^@ &%# it Christopher! What the &$%& did you say at school today?!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"What? I don't know what she is talking about! I don't remember!" </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Yeah, right.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Today I popped by the school and just happened to see his math teacher. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"OMG!" (Have I mentioned that she looks like she is 12?) "I have to tell you what Christopher said that got him in trouble."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"Ah, yeah, about that, I was kind of wondering...."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">"He announced to the class that he thinks Donald Trump is a sexist asshole."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I'm so proud.</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-24885646431313233292015-12-14T12:56:00.003-06:002015-12-14T12:56:42.685-06:00Jeez! Santa Is Watching! <span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">This is what I got from the school today:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Description: MATH - Christopher needs to refrain from using profanity in the classroom. This is the first offense, so just a warning. I hope he will make better choices in the future despite his passion behind what he was discussing! </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Really? </span></span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-30582101526518421442015-09-14T14:24:00.000-05:002015-09-14T14:24:07.241-05:00How Was Your 1st Day of School? GREAT! I Called 911!<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I am not kidding.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The first day of school was a half day. Ahh the half day, the bane of working mother's everywhere. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, Prince #3 had permission to walk with his peeps to the taco place for lunch. He had to text when he got there and when he got home. No exciting news in the text messages. I think I got a 'here' and a 'home'</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">So why did the lad call the po-po? It appears that some misguided soul was attempting to break into a car in the strip parking lot. Unaware of the eagle eyes of eighth graders he was employing a bent hanger as well as a crowbar. A little heavy handed for a guy who might have just locked his keys in his car. Plus the boys said he looked 'sketchy.' There you have it.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When asked what they did after reporting such criminal activity he stated, "Then we booked it!"</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Let's hope they paid for their tacos first.</span></span><br />
<br />Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-36141472746280722312015-08-30T12:55:00.000-05:002015-08-30T12:55:06.357-05:00And Now For Something Completely Different<span style="font-size: large;">Fellow Queens,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Some of you might remember that a million years ago, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, I completed my first marathon. It was 2 days after my mother's death, a total blur, but I finished. The 10th anniversary is upon us and I have signed up to run again, only a half marathon this time. The forms ask why you are signing up. I'm sending this link, its the best answer I have. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Thanks for indulging me.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Go chase those boys!</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Queen Linda</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">My body is a temple. And not the temple of doom.<br />I was a late bloomer to physical fitness. I had an idyllic childhood spent exploring creeks and riding my bike through the neighborhood without a helmet. We played on Clifton Avenue until the street light came on signaling our return to the house for bedtime. We weren’t involved in the organized sports that now over-schedule our children and provide an avenue for parents who through their kids wish to re-create their glory days on the pitching mound. When my children ask me what the name of my T-ball team was, the All Stars or maybe the Wildcats they guess, I tell them we didn’t have a name and that our roster was made up of whoever was around.<br />My junior year of high school I started walking through the neighborhood after dinner and homework. I had one mile route where I regularly saw a lady walking her yippy dog and the wheezing jogger guy. I used the time to think, decompress and try to push aside racing thoughts about grades, boys and the looming SAT test. I got faster as I later continued my walks at the athletic center of the university I attended. I remember one guy incredulous at the fact that I could walk faster thank he could run.<br />After college my exercise consisted of navigating the streets of Manhattan and later chasing my kids. Four years ago a YMCA opened in our neighborhood. I realized that after three pregnancies and a combined two years of nursing that my body was mine, mine, mine! And it was time to whip it into shape. <br />I started slowly, 20 minutes on the treadmill, a half an hour on the stationary bike and then worked up the guts to take a step class and body sculpting class. I got toned, lost some the last niggling baby weight pounds and could choose to take a nap when the baby went down instead of involuntarily crashing along with him. I was feeling good. Then came the dare.<br />After congratulating my fellow gym rats on their latest marathon finish one spandex clad goddess said, “I bet you could run a marathon.”<br />“Can not!”<br />“Can to!”<br />I sounded like a six year old. <br />“You could and you know you could,” was her parting shot.<br />Me? A marathoner? They had to be joking. I had never run in my life, except when being chased. I don’t want to do something I like for five hours never mind something I loathe. I am in my forties, for goodness sake, and I happen to be very fond of my knees the way they are thank you very much.<br />But the seed had been planted. It was nurtured by a group of fabulous marathon mommas, my husband and my three boys. If they all said I could do it, that they would support me, and me being the kind of person that hates to lose a bet, I decided to do it.<br />We started training in May, six months before the race. Following the bizarrely named fartleks method the plan was to run four minutes then walk one as we built up the mileage over the weeks. Our runs took place early on Sunday mornings first through the neighborhood then around Dallas’ White Rock Lake. I think what kept me going we the deepening friendship with my four fellow weekend warriors. I had known Meg for years; she and I had walked a previous half marathon together. Mary and Brenda had boys who attended the same school as my oldest son; Lisa what a good friend of theirs. Our runs became a forum to re-hash the week, ask advice and laugh a lot. Our runs morphed from simply catching up to school concerns to frank advice about aging parents and religious platforms. It wasn’t simply a long workout anymore; it was an hour’s long therapy session. We all felt rejuvenated, healthier and confident in following my gut. <br /> Three weeks before the race I got a call from my sister saying that my Dad had brought Mom to the hospital. No need to go up to Tulsa he reassured me. Everything would be fine. They were just running tests. I wanted so much to believe that that I stayed put, reassured late that night by another good test result. The next morning was a big run, 18 miles, two times around the lake. I checked in with Dad after the first loop. Mom had a good night he reported and they were on their way to the hospital to see her. When I told him I was half way through my workout he told me I was crazy and should go back to bed. After the second loop I checked my voice mail, my sister had called, Mom was on life support. My friends watched me alternately keen and walk in circles in the parking lot as I got the details, assuring my hysterical sister that it would be all right. <br />“I’ve got to go, I gotta go,” I kept repeating. I insisted on driving the three minute trip to my house with Mary riding shotgun. The only thing I remember was her saying, “Taking that turn a little fast.” I was in such a hurry to leave that after I insisted that I didn’t even have time for a shower Mary said, “For everyone involved, please take one.” As I washed away the morning’s workout, they finished packing my bag. After Brenda led a quick prayer in my driveway I was off.<br />The next three weeks were spent in the ICU vortex. You don’t know what day it is, what time it is. You just sit, keep vigil and wait for the inevitable end. Mom died two days before the race. <br />I decided to run. The staid statement - Mom would have wanted me to - doesn’t work here. Mom briefly did Jazzercise and after that thought that serious workouts do your body more harm than good. Then again she was the kind of woman that, if she wished, could talk you into believing that cigarettes were good for you. I truly imagined her, with heavenly bourbon in hand, laughing her head off at me. <br />While my sisters shopped for an urn I started the race. My friends figuratively carried me across the miles. My husband and kids cheered along the way, my 4 year old running along side me until he was out of my husband’s view and then turned back. With one mile to go I spotted the finish line. “I’m going!” I threw over my shoulder to my friends as I pulled ahead. I thought about Mom’s departure from this world, the soaring peace she must have felt at the end, finally free from tubes and monitors. I imagine that she raced to it. My paced picked up and I began to sprint trying to match the speed she must have flown at. I thought that if I went fast enough I could insure her serenity, if I went fast enough I could mistakenly dodge the looming grief. I crossed the finish line at full speed and into my husband’s arms. I looked over and saw my Dad, kids, sisters, nieces and nephews beaming at me. The race was over, my goal achieved. <br />Completing that marathon turned out to be so much more than just achieving a goal toward a healthy lifestyle. I got to deepen friendships, feel the never ending support of my family and face loss. <br />Yes, my body is a temple and in it reside love, support and Mom.<br /> ## </span></span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-73421014423436436602015-08-27T10:12:00.000-05:002015-08-27T10:12:07.556-05:00How School Fundraising Works In My Utopia!<div data-ft="{"tn":"H"}">
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Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-10932790245841682642015-02-20T13:03:00.001-06:002015-02-20T13:22:15.506-06:00Parenting Advice from Billy Bob Thorton<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I will take parenting advice anywhere I can get it but never in my life would I think that I would get sage words from Billly Bob Thorton, but it is true.<br /> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Thorton plays a hit man in the FX remake of Fargo. A character from the past, Lester, wants to reveal him. Thorton looks at him with dead eyes and says “Is this what you want? Lester? Is this what you want? Yes or no?” Needless to say things don’t go well for Lester. You can see a really bad quality version of the scene<a href="http://tinyurl.com/ka93o9b"> here.</a> Careful, it is gruesome!</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I tried this on Prince #3. He was gearing up for some sort of adolescent angst riddled argument. It probably had to do with his aversion to showering after basketball practice. Really? Isn't showering what boys his age love to do? Are we out of shampoo again? Eww, eww, eww! </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I fixed him with my most deadly Mom stare. "Is this what you want? </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(pause, pause, pause) </span></span>Christopher? </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">(pause, pause, pause) </span></span>Is this what you want?" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">I didn't even get to "Yes or no?" He tripped over himself sprinting down the hall.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">You don’t challenge hit men and you don’t challenge Mom. </span></span><b> </b>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-92109911279542976392015-01-29T14:40:00.000-06:002015-01-29T14:40:42.771-06:00Cement or Not to Cement<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">A McMansion is going in next door to me. I am not happy. Yesterday they poured the foundation. I had to go to work before the workers finished. I left Prince #3 a note:</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dear Christopher,</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Whatever you do, don't play in the wet cement next door.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Love, </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Mom</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Either way, that's a win-win.</span></span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-47382719192848268962015-01-22T19:43:00.000-06:002015-01-22T19:43:02.668-06:00New Neighbors<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">A couple moved on to our street this week. I saw them in their front yard and I went to introduce myself.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Hi, I'm Linda. I live in the house over there with the huge pirate flag."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"Oh," they murmured. "That house. Hmmm, yeah, we were wondering about that."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ahoy!</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-49924247120774161682014-12-18T15:24:00.000-06:002014-12-18T15:24:01.391-06:00The 12 Days of Christmas For My Fellow Queens aka Moms of Boys<br />
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 2.9px 0.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the spirit of the holidays I have composed a little ditty for you, sung to the tune of The 12 Days of Christmas. We will just start at the twelfth day; by the time you repeat the 'eight maids a-milking' part five times you want to stick a sharp candy cane in your eye.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">On the twelfth day of Christmas, </span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Trebuchet MS'; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">My sweet kid gave to me</span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Trebuchet MS'; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> Twelve gummy bears, </span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Trebuchet MS'; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Eleven dead batteries, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ten asks for weapons, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Nine coughs in my face, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Eight screaming tantrums, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Seven dripping mittens, </span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Trebuchet MS'; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Six fights with his brother, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Five - water - balloons, (NOT IN THE HOUSE!!)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Four half-eaten cookies, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Three evil grins, </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Two sugar highs,</span></span></div>
<div style="font: normal normal normal 12px/normal 'Trebuchet MS'; margin-bottom: 2.9px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> And a hug and kiss on Christmas morn!</span></span></div>
<div style="color: #2278ad; font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 2.9px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px; text-align: center;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="font: 12.0px 'Times New Roman'; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 15.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Enjoy your friends and family. And remember what the Grinch learned, “Christmas Day will always be just as long as we have we.”</span><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></div>
Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-34932174047878074492014-08-20T12:31:00.000-05:002014-08-20T12:31:03.938-05:00Obligatory 1st Day of School Photo<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Queens,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I sent Prince #3's photo to College Boy and this is what I got back</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35Ux7BNjtCjyJaX8u8xYiRQ4WvbCazeXCLrwG7spp4w7XF6HQ9EcoD5qNb5rlrbLsGv13i-T_sOHQmh2U9F8WBQnije3b1h6I7jgqqO705ln757_q16i-YSKoQBTlI3-rlXntyavROyPy/s1600/IMG_9427.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi35Ux7BNjtCjyJaX8u8xYiRQ4WvbCazeXCLrwG7spp4w7XF6HQ9EcoD5qNb5rlrbLsGv13i-T_sOHQmh2U9F8WBQnije3b1h6I7jgqqO705ln757_q16i-YSKoQBTlI3-rlXntyavROyPy/s1600/IMG_9427.jpeg" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-81443606716407226192014-05-12T20:05:00.001-05:002014-05-12T20:05:56.717-05:00Queen Linda's Mother's Day Address<br />
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">How many times have you received that e-mail “For Those of You Who Have Sons & Those of You Who Are Happy That You Don’t?” (Such an offensive title) Or the other e-mail titled “Why Boys Need Mothers?” </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If I see that picture of the red headed boy with the frog in his mouth one more time... </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Being the Queen of all moms of boys that I am, I have decided to stop the madness and create a gem that is based on fellow Queen's boy stories. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So go forth, forward away and multiply the Queendom. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">www.itsgoodtobethequeen.com</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Reign On!</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Queen Linda</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="font: 18.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Moms of boys know that their sons will:</span></b></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Insist on wearing their super hero costume for weeks, never change socks and practice the sniff-and-wear approach to dressing.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Never know where their other shoe is.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Whip off their pull up, throw it to the ceiling and dance in a shower of diaper gel pellets.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Be able to tell which brother farted by the smell alone.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wipe boogers on the wall, paint with poo during their artistic brown period and extend their budding magic marker tattoo talents to the dog.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Make your car insurance go sky high after “That curb came out of nowhere!”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Play a game consisting of setting mouse traps on a chair and then sitting on them. Whoever remains the most stoic wins.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Light their farts not realizing they are in the beginning throws of puberty resulting in an unfortunate hair scorching incident. They will then wear their bathrobe to the ER.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Start phone calls with, “Hey Mom. I’m okay but...”</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Peddle off the roof and into the swimming pool on their BMX bikes. </span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Have a contest to see how accurate their aim is by peeing into a cereal box set up in the driveway.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Leave crayons, army men, trading cards, coins, bugs and the occasional snotty kleenex in their pockets so you can find them in the dryer lint trap.</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Have phone calls with their friends using only monosyllables and grunts.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lock their babysitter in the bathroom, duct tape their brother and then raid the pantry.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Poop in the display potty at Home Depot.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Decorate the kitchen floor with peanut butter, BBQ sauce and honey.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Cut their own hair with safety scissors.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Put playdoh in their diapers.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Pee anytime, anywhere; on the doctor in the delivery room, in front of church, on the baseball field, in the bathroom trash can, in potted plants...</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">
<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Proclaim it loudly when they notice that someone has a big butt, is a dwarf or an amputee.</span></span></div>
<div style="font: 14.0px Arial; line-height: 16.0px; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 16.0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span><br /></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Never learn how to put clothes away, replace a roll of toilet paper or throw out empty boxes of snacks.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Wad up lengths of toilet paper into a loose cannonball, place them in an upended hand dryer nozzle and hit the button.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Place beenie babies on the blades of the ceiling fan and then turn it on high.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Love you forever.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Text Copyright © 2008 by Linda Marie Ford</span></span></div>
Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-51632988330519550792014-01-14T19:31:00.001-06:002014-01-14T19:31:38.030-06:00It is STING Pong, Not Ping Pong<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The boys got a ping pong net for Christmas. It clamps on any table and viola! instant fun. Who knows when we will eat in the dining room again. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sting pong is played shirtless. For every point you win you get to hit the ball as hard as you can at your friend's chest, preferably with a running start. They all have ping pong ball sized welts on their chests. Posting pictures of battle wounds on Facebook is inevitable. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm putting my foot down. They can't bring any girls over to play.</span><br />
<br />Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-40840644369913814962014-01-04T13:41:00.000-06:002014-01-04T13:41:54.007-06:004 Days Into the New Year and I Am So Proud!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yesterday I received my latest copy of Texas Catholic and there on the front page is Prince #2. His beaming 17 year old face engaged in the giving of toys for little tots. But look closely. He is wearing a Christmas sweatshirt with sweet snowmen on the front. Sweet snowmen toasting with red solo cups. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Delightful.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I just opened the mail and got a curious letter from the North Texas Tollway Authority. It appears that Prince #1 happened to run the toll. No need to contest it, there is the picture of his ancient Honda passing thru. But, again, look closely. Is he raising his left hand in a birdlike salute. Oh yes he is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So proud.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Let's see if any incriminating pictures of the 12 year old show up tomorrow.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Happy New Year!</span><br />
<br />Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-50193985983328043362013-12-24T15:55:00.002-06:002013-12-24T15:55:33.825-06:00Prince #1 is 21!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Is it wrong to give your newly minted 21 year old a bottle of Jack and a breathalyzer? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That's right folks, $19.99 at Bed Bath and Beyond.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Its in the Beyond part of the store.</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-23217950438801543152013-11-14T19:41:00.000-06:002013-11-14T19:43:37.207-06:00Give Thanks for Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My 20 year old son posted a cartoon on Facebook this week. (Yes I am his friend, yes I made him friend me when he was in high school and yes I do realize that after he sees this he will unfriend me.)</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The cartoon is by Randy Bish of the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review. In it a hysterical Thanksgiving turkey is yelling at Santa, “DECEMBER, Fat Boy! This month is for MY holiday! Now hop in that sleigh and WAIT your TURN!”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I love Thanksgiving. There is nothing like gorging on tryptopham turkey and 500 calories -per-slice pecan pie with abandon. It is a time we can just slow our roll, hopefully take a day off and be grateful. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Seems like a simple thing. Can’t we just do that for one full day before we catapult into the Christmas chaos? Every year my sons and I boycott whatever company broadcasts the first holiday commercial we see. So far the offenders have been DeBeers diamonds, Lexus and Carnival cruise line, no conflict yet. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I know things are tough and sometimes we can lose sight of what we have. If you need a nudge, here are a few things.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Be thankful for the food you have. The number of people that the North Texas Food Bank serves every month would fill Cowboys Stadium 2.5 times. Think about that while you are sitting in your home theater booing the Raiders.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Give thanks for family, however crazy, and try to be with them. Traditions matter. Every year I have to hear the story about how I cooked a ham with the plastic wrapper still on it but who cares? </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If you have a job, good. If you get off for Thanksgiving, even better. This year “In response to interest from customers who prefer to start their shopping early” Macy’s joins Target, Kohls and Target by opening on 8pm Thanksgiving evening. Really? If you do go shopping be thankful for the workers who make that possible. Tell them. Plenty won’t. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Woudn’t it be great if we give thanks 364 days of the year and spent one day at the mall? With online shopping it is possible and I think we would have our priorities straight.</span></span></div>
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Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-45347718773579954782013-09-26T19:38:00.001-05:002013-09-26T19:38:47.619-05:00Tonight's Dinnertime Chant<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We just got home from football practice and I asked Prince #3 to get a shower before dinner.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Food now! Hygiene later!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"FOOD NOW! HYGIENE LATER!"</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-60076460747730600862013-08-21T15:31:00.000-05:002013-08-21T15:33:11.261-05:00Ceiling Fan<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Here is a text message I received from Prince #2 about Prince College Boy the night said College Boy moved into a house with his buddies.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Idk how but Tim's roommate fell through his ceiling might want to give him a call"</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-72388488691493678212013-07-25T17:26:00.002-05:002013-07-25T17:26:39.089-05:00Butterfingers<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You would think that the mother of boys could catch a football, but noooooooo.</span><br />
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<br />Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-84786474819877080482013-07-12T19:18:00.000-05:002013-07-12T19:18:39.918-05:00Sacrificial Newspaper<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Mom, Mom, Mom!" Prince #3 whined as he came in the front door. "I was mowing the neighbor's lawn and I happened to run over their newspaper and the mower quit."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am sure that that paper dove under the blades of the mower in an attempt to shred it's secret information buried deep inside the Dallas Morning News. Riiiiiiiight.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And did he really think that I would say, "Okay honey, just don't finish. Come on inside and we will bake cookies together."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Really?</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-46783082472525595912013-06-16T12:37:00.003-05:002013-06-16T12:38:54.594-05:00Happy Father's Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Here's to all the men in our son's lives!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Just don't let them know that we count them as one of our children.</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-58401195766040298712013-06-07T06:42:00.002-05:002013-06-07T06:43:27.828-05:00Wake Up!! WAKE UP!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"It is time for school! Hurry! You're going to be late," I screamed as I shook Prince #3's bed with earthquake force.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Huh, what? Mmmm, okay," he mumbles as he slides to the floor and starts to stagger across the room.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Oh wait," I add. "Yesterday was the last day of school. Sorry. My bad."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If Momma has to be up, everyone has to be up.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And so starts the summer.</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-57590594779497589582013-05-12T06:49:00.001-05:002013-05-12T06:49:42.749-05:00HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May your bed have burned toast crumbs from breakfast in bed, may your teen grant you a mumbled greeting complete with side hug and may your Princes call from far and wide to offer the love you deserve.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You are awesome!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Queen Linda</span>Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3468228153529639102.post-7256946911067091502013-05-05T12:23:00.000-05:002013-05-05T12:23:05.005-05:00Anti Ant<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ya know, sometimes they just don’t get it.</span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Prince #3’s Godmother Suzy was coming for an overnight visit three nights ago. So I did what every mother of boys has done. I went into his room with a broom, stiff armed everything off all flat surfaces and swept it all into the closet. I also cleaned Prince #2’s room and the Man Cave but simply shutting the doors. I highly recommend this cleaning method.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Prince #3 just came into the kitchen with one of his plastic toys that had obviously been residing in the front yard prior to getting thrown on the floor in his room. “There’s ants! EVERYWHERE!” he screams like a little girl. Literally dripping from the former Nerf gun now ant apartment is a stream of ants peeved that their day has been uprooted. </span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Get that out of the house NOW!” I yell.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">He sprinted to the front door, sprinkling ants the entire way through the house and chucks the toy on the sidewalk. As I look at the moving trail of ants who abandoned ship in my living room I say, “What in the hell are those white rice things they are carrying.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Hmm. Looks like larva. Cool” says Mike the neighbor who just happened to be at the front door.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Larva? Oh, sweet God!” I shriek hysterically.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">They all just look at me like I am crazy.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Yeah, so? We’ll fix it, Why are you screaming?” says Hubby with a casualness usually reserved for picking which T shirt to wear that day.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“I live in a frat house!” I yell as I stomp off to my office.</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now I sit here, squirming, imagining ants literally in my pants pondering these questions. What am I more upset about? That my Princes’ rooms are bio hazards? That they probably exterminate as well as they clean? That they JUST DON’T GET IT?</span></span></div>
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<span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Or maybe I’m just upset that there was, for a brief moment, another Queen in my castle.</span></span></div>
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Linda Marie Fordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09205808977453012620noreply@blogger.com0