The Epic Adventures of Chocolate Milk

Mom took William to go see Ben's football game out of town. I was left with the three younger ones for several hours...
We cleaned up the house a little bit, played some games, and then I turned on a movie. So far, so great. We made dinner. Hot dogs, mac and cheese, pineapples. Very unhealthy. They loved it.

Then I decided to make some chocolate milk for them because they were being very good.
I was in the middle of telling them a story (a very random one starring a knight, a princess from India, and a gryphon- don't ask). I wanted it to be kind of "magical" for them, so we turned off the lights and turned on the one underneath the microwave. I decided to make hot chocolate a different way than we normally do. So I pulled out the teapot and filled it with milk.
I continued with the story. The witch had captured the Indian princess in a magically dungeon that was guarded by seven-headed monsters. It was guarded by a dragon. My idea was to have the dragon attack at the exact same time that the teapot whistled.
In actuality, the dragon threw up. I heard the tiniest blip of a whistle, and then poof sputter sputter splatter WHOOSH!!!
The milk was spurting out of the teapot like a fountain!!! Boiling milk cascaded over the stove and floor. Of course, I had to wait until it was done squirting out of the teapot before I could get close to the stove. Then I had to clean the boiling milk off the floor. Only at that point was I able to approach the stove and turn it off.
It goes without saying that the remainder of the milk was terribly scalded.
After I cleaned up that mess, I decided to make the hot chocolate the "old-fashioned way" (aka, the "rather new, microwaveable way"). I filled up four mugs with all the rest of the gallon of milk (and some water to make up for the difference) and put the mugs in the microwave one by one.
The first three behaved very nicely and heated up like normal.
The fourth flooded the microwave.
Don't ask me how it happened. I heard a dripping noise, opened the microwave door, and very hot milk spilled out of it. So of course I had to clean up that mess and make sure I didn't break the microwave.
Three cups of hot chocolate, four people wanting them. I decided to share with Marcus (he's just a toddler, he doesn't need that much).
Then came the whipped cream fiasco. Normally we don't have whipped cream, but by chance there were  the dregs of a bottle in the fridge.
PROBLEM: There were only two squirts left in the container.
After I (very meticulously) divided the whipped cream (in very precise amounts) between Nick, Addie, and Marcus, I went searching for some cinnamon to sprinkle ontop.
Meanwhile, Marcus spilt his hot chocolate (very nearly soaking by Bible and history book). So I gave him mine.

Who knew that there were so many ways to ruin hot chocolate?!

To top off the night with a cherry on top:
The chair gave Marcus a black eye when he attacked it while jumping (please don't ask me why he did that. I haven't the foggiest). I have to sit with him, holding ice to his face.
Adelynn cried and cried. I had turned on The Little Princess for her (via Netflix's instant view). About halfways through she starting sobbing and wouldn't stop. She didn't believe me when I said there is a happy ending. I finally convinced her to finish watching (the only way she would stop crying)




*sigh*

(I still have to clean up because we are showing the house early in the morning and I haven't finished half of today's schoolwork)

*deep sigh*

Oh, well, at least I have the antics of the crazy triplets to cheer me up! (Lanta, Bridget/Ranya, and Delaney on my awesome fourm www.fairytalenovels.proboards.com)

On Homeschooling, Free Time, and Procrastination

No "ifs" about it. Homeschoolers get a ton of free time.
If I work hard (and I mean hard) all morning, I can finish geometry, biology, English, literature, history, theology, Latin, random essays, and chores by three in the afternoon. That is the same time that "real school" kids get dismissed. And they still have homework to do.
Of course, I simply love those few extra hours of freetime. Doing crafts, for instance. Reading. Being crazy. Writing. Being crazy. Doing unicycle. Being crazy.

But if you are like me, you procrastinate. Yesterday I made the terrible mistake of putting off an essay and not studying for a biology exam. Today I had Latin online class (that took longer than normal) and several hours of volleyball.

I still have that essay to do. I still am not ready for the exam.

And to top it off I have 40 pages to read from the Illiad.

Right now my favored form of procrastination is The Night Of Randomly Long Posts. Mom is sigh deeply when she sees what I've done. *says hopefully* I've been reading the Illiad as I write! (or rather, inbetween every few sentances!)

*deep sigh* No, I don't think thats going to work. So I am going to get off this computer and finish reading the Illiad. Then I am going to go to bed. I am going to wake up and study biology while I eat breakfast. Type up that essay after chores. And then get booking and finish up all my subjects in time to get some more free time.

The Night of Randomly Long Posts is over.

Do you need any more proof of my craziness? Here it is.

I just signed up for a month of self-torture. In other words, I am going to write a novel in one month. At least 175 pages. 50,000 words. That is about 1,666.666667 words a day, every day. Half an hour, minimum.

This insanity is called NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month). No, there is no prize. Unless you consider accomplishing a majestic feat a prize.

Which I certainly do.

What will I write? I am taking my well-loved, never-finished story Nevdroonia. I am going to crank it out. I am going to force myself to write this. Get it done. Finally show off my baby.

I am afraid that Nevdroonia is rather cliche. And with a simply storyline. Oh, well. If I enjoy myself writing it, then what the heck. :)

Why am I telling this to you now? Because it is the Night Of Randomly Long Posts. Also, if I go about strutting my feathers, declaring to the world (or at least the few people who read my blog) that I am going to acutally write a novel, I will have to do it so that y'all can't prove me wrong. See? Motivation. Now come November, if you see me posting lots and lots, be sure to let me know that I can't do that. I should be writing my story instead

On Attidude

I know better than to write this post. Really, I do. The moment I click publish post, I will be dooming myself to a lecture. Someday when I am cranky, irritable, out of sorts, half-off-my-rocker, fussing, sassy, cookoo, etc., Mom and Dad are going to force me to read my own post.

I know better. Oh, well.

Well, tonight we played a volleyball game (GO ROYALS!!!). We won (three cheers!). Are you tired of the parenthetical commentary yet? (No, way. That could never happen.)
The other team, frankly, was fairly easy to beat. I noticed something even before the game began- namely, they seemed out of sorts. Not into it. A "Do we really have to do this? We're just going to lose anyway" sort of mood, at least as far as I could tell.
Royals JV team (my team! Hurrah!) is not the best (sorry, but we aren't. We do need alot of work, but for what other earthly reason would we employ the efforts of such a lovely Coach?). Although our skill levels may have been on par skill wise with the other team, we held the winning card. Attidude.
If a girl lost a ball (like me, missing the first serve of the second game!), no one fussed, made a face, or groaned. Instead, everyone on the team shook it off and prepared for the next hit. Mistakes in the past are mistakes in the past. The future awaits. (The future awaits. Sounds vaugely reminisent of Star Trek). The Royals cheered for everyone- the other team included. Coach works us hard, but she tortures us in a good way. She doesn't stand at the sidelines, shouting at us, telling us everything we do wrong. Instead, she stands at the sidelines, shouting encouragement at us, and telling us what we can do better.
Sadly, the other team was a bit downtrodden. I never heard any of them cheering their teamates on. They didn't seem to be in it for the fun and satisfaction. (They might have, who knows? But they had an extrememly odd way of showing it...)
I know that if I had kept that missed serve as a chip on my shoulder, that chip would knock me off balance half the game. I would keep messing up, keep getting frustrated, and continue falling prey to that vicious circle. But my (amazingly awesome) teamates sure kept that from happening! When the other team was beating us, the Royals did not groan and grumble. Instead, it was a challenge . A challenge to do better. A reason to get happier (because we all love a challenge. Easy games are boring).
Had we thrown an attidude about it, I know for a fact that we would not have won. Whether you think you can or you think you can't, YOU ARE RIGHT. Attidude is merely portraying what you think and amplifying it. Sure, I got a bit nervous when the other team started racking up points. Sure, I was a little annoyed at the fact that no one could get a good pass (bump, for you oldies). But staying cheerful really helped. We were able to pull back through and win the game.

Attidude can make all the difference. I applaud my teammates for their good work.

A Question

I wonder what exactly those people are doing with the Old Schoolhouse down by main street. It was an old dilapitaded building, and OAT (Ozark Actors Theater) used it for storing their sets. Now some guys have bought it up and are making some sort of fancy bar thingie. I'm not exactly sure what it is...  I could understand it if they kept the building as it was, after all, its an historical building. But they aren't keeping the character of it at all. Totally new front, stone fence, knocking in holes for windows and adding on in the back. If they aren't keeping the building for its history, wouldn't it be cheaper to just knock it down and build a whole new building?

On Haircuts, Hair, and Really Sharp Hair

No, no pictures, sorry. And rather random post.

Yesterday Mom cut the boys' hair. For Marcus, this was a rather traumatic experience.

"Marcus, I'm going to cut your hair!" Mom said cheerfully.
Marcus clutched at his hair. "No!"
"Big boys get their hair cut," said Mom.
Marcus looked at Mom, looked at his dirty diaper, and looked back up at her.
"No!" He really didn't want it cut!
I had to hold Marcus while Mom cut his hair. He was sniffling, poor thing! He kept burying his head on my shoulder like an ostrich sticking its head underground. Actually, I think he would rather have liked to be an ostrich. I doubt that they get haircuts.
Finally his hair was all cut. Marcus clung to be desperately. Mom pried him off me and brought him to a mirror. She said he looked handsome.

Suddenly Marcus smiled a big huge grin. "Ya, ya!"
He ran off to show Will, Nick, and Addie, and later Ben when he got back from football.
He is now very proud of his haircut.


Did you know that hair is really sharp? I walked through the craft room (where the haircutting took place) and it felt like I stepped on a piece of glass. That was odd. As a rule, dishes are not allowed downstairs. Much less glass ones. I shook if off and went to work on school. There it was again, that random poking feeling of death. I looked and looked at my foot and couldn't figure it out. Finally I found it- a tiny bit of William's hair poking it!

Later I walked through the craft room again (barefoot, as per usual, and obviously not thinking about what happened earlier) and I got a long bit of hair poke me.

LESSON OF THE DAY: Clean up freshly cut hair before it stabs people's feet.

I hope that that was random enough for the Night Of Random Long Posts.

Hello. My name is Shaylynn Rackers. You killed my brain. Prepare to speak Latin.

I've been taking an online Latin course from Memoria Press. Actually it uses the same book as my curriculum provider (Kolbe), and I only do Memoria Press' class because I got super confused last year.

This year I am in Latin Two. We just started to study idioms and times when adjectives are used as nouns and times when no noun is given, but merely implied.

Grrr.

Add onto that that I never memorized most of last year's grammar.

I wish I could unplug my brain. I think I am dying of Latin OD. lol!

I actually really enjoy Latin. Please disregard my complaints.

The Night of Random and Semi-Long Posts

I hereby term tonight the Night of Random and Semi-Long Posts. Because I am not sleepy at all.

Provided I don't actually get sleepy (heaven forbid! AH! Sleepy? Never.)