A sure sign that the school year is in full swing is when the ridiculous projects start. Judging by this week, we are well into the thick of it.

What are we working on, you ask? Therein lies the problem dear reader…I have no idea.

It all started Monday night when at 9:00 Mr. C casually mentioned his friends had given him some money for a poster board that apparently was his responsibility to get to school. To me, this statement does not hint in any way, shape or form that there may be a school project involved so since it was 9:00 on a Monday Night…during Monday Night Football…with The Cowboys playing…I did what any good Mom would do and I totally blew him off. Because I’m awesome like that.

Imagine our surprise to get a frantic phone call from him in the middle of the day yesterday telling us he needed that poster board right that very minute for a very important school project.

That is the kind of information that would have been helpful at 9:00 on a Monday night. But we aren’t done yet…not by a long shot.

Last night, while The Man was on solo kid duty, Mr. C informs him that he now is in need of miniature Indians for this poster board that we still don’t quite know what is going on with. Having learned from our previous transgression of not getting the poster board at 9:00 at night, The Man dragged both kids to Hobby Lobby in search of Indians and lifelike surroundings. Forty dollars worth of Indians and lifelike surroundings. Since we are getting all our information for this mystery project in bits and pieces and always at night, by the time The Man got to Hobby Lobby there had apparently been a run on all the “cheap” Indians and lifelike surroundings and his only choice was the creme de la creme of miniatures.

Here is what forty bucks will get you in American Indian history:

Trust me when I tell you, I am very interested in seeing what comes home at the end of the week.

Special thanks to The Mother from Mother’s Handbook and Jan over at Jan’s Sushi Bar who gave me the idea to talk about crazy school projects. Also, you guys should know they are both mothers of college/high school aged kids and I’m pretty sure they are laughing at me, not with me, right about now.

He really is. For 92 days in fact. But that doesn’t mean we don’t still hear about him EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. Was he a musical legend? Yes. But seriously people, there wasn’t this much hoopla when Elvis died, was there? If I am still hearing about this 22 years from now…well, I don’t know what I’ll do but I’m quite sure it involves one of two things: bail or a mental institution.

I looked on Amazon last night and since MJ died, at least 21 books have been published about him. TWENTY ONE. Because I am a mathematical genius able to count on all my fingers and toes multiple times, that is an average of one book every 4.3 days. That’s a lot of people making money of one dead guy.

Let’s not forget the upcoming movie, “This Is It”. Is this really it? IS IT??? Because at this point, I really don’t think it is.

The latest member of his entourage to jump on the gravy train is Rabbi Shmuley Boteach. (Side note: Go to the mirror right now and say that five times really fast and look at what your face does. Really…I’ll wait.) Rabbi Shmuley was Michael’s “spiritual advisor” and has hours and hours of personal recorded sessions that he has now turned into a book with the longest title in the history of ever. Take a deep breath, “The Michael Jackson Tapes: A Tragic Icon Reveals His Soul In Intimate Conversation”.

WOW.

Not only is that a reallllly long title, it’s also just wrong. Call me crazy but when I die, the last thing I’d want would be for my “spiritual advisor” (stop laughing) to release a bunch of private conversations I had with him. Whatever you think of MJ (and I have plenty of words I could use here but the thought of putting those words in my blog and the resulting google searches that would land on my site? *shudder*) you have to admit that this whole thing has gone way too far at this point.

Not that this has any bearing on the story whatsover, but you should know that Rabbi Shmuley is also a frequent contributor on The Today Show regarding the topic of sex. Have you ever seen him?

Now that I’ve had a chance to torture all of you with that image, I’ll sign off for the weekend. Enjoy the visuals and have a good one!

A few of you have emailed me, in a rather rude manner, and asked why I don’t often write about my son. On this blog, he seems to be the invisible child, taking a second seat to his sister. He’s not less important, nor do I favor her, he’s just….older. And therefore, I tend to be more careful in the stories I share about him.

Does he do things that make me crazy? Totally. Does he make me laugh? On a daily basis. Is he every bit as important to me as his sister is? YES.

But most importantly, do we have some embarassing, yet entertaining, stories about what goes on around here?  Absolutely.  Is it anyone’s business but ours?  NO.

Here’s the thing, and this is something that has been bugging me for a while. Mr. C is at an age where he can find my blog. I’m quite sure he knows how to get there and I’m also equally sure some of his friends know about it as well. We haven’t really had any incidents yet, but that could change in a heartbeat. And I don’t want that.

When I was at BlogHer a while back, I attended a panel called something like, “TMI, How Much Is Too Much Information”. Don’t really remember the exact title because once I got in there, I needed a brown paper bag to help me through hyperventilating at the subject matter.

According to the panelists, EVERYTHING is fair game. Your kids real names, embarassing stories about your spouse, your kids, your most intimate details….all fair game.  Because it’s all about you and your freedom of expression, right?

Oh honey, no.

It’s taken me a while to digest this, but it’s been bothering me, and then when I got a few emails suggesting I don’t pay enough attention to my son…well, I got pissed.

There are a few things to keep in mind here:

• You are not blogging in a vacuum.   Keep in mind that EVERY. SINGLE. THING. you say may very well come back to haunt you.
• Talk smack about your husband on your blog and prepare for the fall out if his workplace somehow stumbles upon your “personal” blog.  It could happen.  Consider the consequences.
• Talk smack about your kids and brace for the fallout when they are old enough to google you….because they will.  And unless you have been totally diligent in hiding your real name from the world, which very few of us are these days, your kids will read the stories you write about them.   It’s best for you and them if it’s done from a perspective of love and sometimes light and funny stories…nothing that would cause them to be bullied on the playground.
• But most of all…remember your blog is not ALL ABOUT YOU.  Because it’s not.   Sure, it’s your venue and possibly you are very well read.   But all it takes is one person finding it, and passing the hurtful venom or shameful stories you have shared to ruin someone’s life you really love.

If you choose to ignore this advice, well be my guest, but brace yourself for fall out because sooner or later, everyone figures out who you are….there is very little anonymity anymore.  You reveal your hand to one person, and it’s all over.

All I’m saying is this, share stories that aren’t hurtful.   Record the things you want your children and your spouse to look back on and laugh.  But keep the most intimate details of your life, and that of your family, to yourself.

Because you owe them that much.

***This rant courtesy of stupid emails I have received recently.  Email me again and I’ll show up on your front porch…because odds are, I can find you.

Watch this and tell me it doesn’t make you LOL.

And yes, it happens to me more often than you’d think.

Happy weekend!

Last week I alarmed a few of you when I mentioned that upon a visit to my OB/GYN I managed to leave with a 1.5 inch gash cut into my face. I should probably clarify that little statement and tell you what I’ve been going through this past week and how it involved several late night plea bargaining sessions with God himself.

So I went in for a routine follow up to my surgery from a few months after that whole “Uterfuss” mess and everything was fine. However, as my doctor was leaving the room, I pointed to this little spot on the side of my face that had been flaking a lot as of late. I asked him what he thought and was immediately told he didn’t like it…not one little bit. He made me promise I would get it looked at right away and he looked slightly alarmed.

NOT GOOD.

I promised I would but he knows me too well, he’s delivered both my kids and been my doctor for the better part of 25 years. Outside of my husband, no one knows how much I will procrastinate getting medical issues addressed better than him. I promised him that yes, I would take care of it at which point he scoffed at me and told his nurse to call his brother who is a plastic surgeon conveniently located next door and see if I could stop by right now.

Yeah, I was sort of freaked out.

So I went next door and his brother also did not like my flaky spot one little bit either but tried to calm me down by saying “It’s probably just a basal cell carcinoma…I’m sure it’s not squamous or melanoma….but it needs to come out right now.”

Oh my.

So two hours later, I walked out of the office looking like this…

…and spent the next seven days plea bargaining with God that if he would not kill me with skin cancer and would also make it so half of my face would not get cut off in the process, I was willing to agree to the following list of “self improvements”.

• I will wear sunscreen each and every day for the rest of my life and I won’t even care that I look as pale as a vampire in Twilight.   (Though glittery and sparkly would be nice! Also? If you could make Edward my boyfriend without pissing of my husband, that would be AWESOME. kthxbye.)
• I will make that long overdue Dermatologist appointment.  (Really, I’m getting to that tomorrow…)
• I will work out every day.   (I walked to my office today, granted it’s in my house and also navigating heavy rush hour traffic on my way to the doctor should count for SOMETHING.)
• I will go to church every Sunday for the rest of my natural life.  (Great in theory but it rained on Sunday and I accidentally slept in…)
• I will be nice to every single person in my neighborhood, even those I don’t like.  (Which worked out really well until the one I like the least cut me off at a 4 way stop….oh you know who you are…hope you enjoyed the “special wave” I shared with you. xoxo!!!)
• I will stop proclaiming Brett Favre  the biggest loser in the history of ever for signing with the Vikings.  (Damn, I wish they hadn’t won Sunday.)
• I will stop drinking wine on weeknights.  (STOP LAUGHING.)
• I will stop blogging, tweeting, facebooking, skyping, etc while my children are awake and will spend each and every moment engaged in meaningful conversation with them.  (Um, yeah…as I type this, it’s 7:07 pm and guess what I’m doing?)

The good news is, God knows me well enough to understand that I really, really mean well…I just have a high propensity for FAIL at these types of middle of the night, sleep deprived promises.

I waited all week for the results of the biopsy to come back.  Lots of freaking out and zero sleep.   Today, I went to the doctor to get the stitches out and get the results.   The doctor walked in and asked, “How are you?” and I was all, “I don’t know, HOW AM I?” at which point he said the two words I was dying to hear, “Non malignant.”

HELL YES.

Turns out it’s not cancer, it’s not even a non threatening basal cell carcinoma, it was just an icky spot on my face that didn’t want to heal.    So today, I am the proud owner of a very ugly scar on my face but I am not the owner of skin cancer.

Looks like I owe God a few solids off that list I promised Him.