Canded Truth

The following is a rant I want to give to a person who has moved in with us for the next two months or so. No, he is not the 4th child I was referring to in my previous posts. This is a man who is a pastor in a different country and who came back to this country to earn some money and do some church business. Though we are happy our home can provide shelter and thus serve him this way, deep down in my heart I wish this happened two months from now. You know, when I will be on Summer break and my marathon practicum will be over with. So, because this is happening at the most busiest time of our married life, there are several things I want to tell this person, but don't really know how. Here is what I want him to know:

1) You are welcome!

2) We eat a lot of leftovers.

3) If there are no leftovers feel free to eat anything eatable thing you see.

4) You will probably never be greeted with a perfectly clean house. Things are not gross around here, just out of place.

5) Not making your bed is not a crime here.

6) Our children are really not as bad as they may act around people they don't know. Only because they really like to make their parents look inadequate

7) Oh...and they ARE being raised primarily by their parents, promise! Just not during the two month you are here.

He's been here for about two weeks and (thank God) is very low maintenance. It is a bit weird to have a person outside your family living with you. It also feels funny to have two tall males roaming in your house...if you know what I mean.

About Being a Hypocrite

I never respected one. Always was afraid of becoming one. A hypocrite.

Saying one thing, often in a loud, condemning and affirming tone, and then doing that same thing one formerly condemned is what describes the action of a hypocrite. I met a few during my short mature life and from a moment of discovering one's hypocritical nature, lost trust and respect for that person. Being afraid of ever becoming a hypocrite, I watched what I say and do and tried not to judge other people's actions. At least out loud. Because believe it or not, all of us are judgemental to one degree or another. A person without an opinion is hard to come across and is usually a bore. In my opinion.

Anyway, I tried practicing what I preached (ever so humbly) and was not very loud about my beliefs. But time went by and I noticed that I was becoming more vocal about things I would come to realize to be true, or right. And it would be alright and I would keep vocalizing my beliefs if.....If one day I wouldn't catch myself violating the very things I supported and argued about until my face was all red and sweaty with tears running down my face...No, not that vocal.
But hypocritical? Yes.

Which brings me to my confession. I've been a bad mom lately. Real bad. I started my practicum at a local community college which takes up four out of seven week nights. This means that four out of seven dinners my kids are eating without me. It also means that on the days that I work and have the practicum at night, I see my kids for a total of 3 hours a day. How horrible is that? Real. Horrible. My conscience is calling me all kinds of bad words and I quiet it down by shoving a calendar in its face and pointing to summer. SUMMMMMER. Is 8. Weeks. Away.

I love my job and I love to be schooled. I looooove summer. I love my kids more. Much, much, more. Kids + Summer+Mama home with them=happy family and clear conscience. In 8 more weeks.

English Language

I've seen this before and it made its way back to my inbox. You don't have to be a grammar nerd to enjoy this read.


We'll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes,

But the plural of ox becomes oxen, not oxes.

One fowl is a goose, but two are called geese,

Yet the plural of moose should never be meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a nest full of mice,

Yet the plural of house is houses, not hice.

If the plural of man is always called men,

Why shouldn't the plural of pan be called pen?

If I speak of my foot and show you my feet,

And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,

Why shouldn't the plural of booth be called beeth?

Then one may be that, and three would be those,

Yet hat in the plural would never be hose,

And the plural of cat is cats, not cose.

We speak of a brother and also of brethren,

But though we say mother, we never say methren.

Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and him,

But imagine the feminine: she, shis and shim!

Let's face it - English is a crazy language.

There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger;

neither apple nor pine in pineapple.

English muffins weren't invented in England .

We take English for granted, but if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing,grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?

Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend.

If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?

If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught?

If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.

In what other language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?

We ship by truck but send cargo by ship.

We have noses that run and feet that smell.

We park in a driveway and drive in a parkway.

And how can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same,

while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in whichyour house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which an alarm goes off by going on.

And in closing, if Father is Pop, how come Mother's not Mop?