The Latta Family

Here's a sample of a conversation as we're walking into the house from school today: Andrew: We talked about soil today! Doug: Really?!  What's the difference between soil and dirt?  (he's just itching to prove Andrew's teacher wrong.) Me: (major eye rolling.  They practically get stuck wrong ways out.) Andrew: soil is darker and dirt is lighter Me: (sounds fairly accurate for a first grader) Doug: NO!  Hah!  Dirt is what you bring in your momma's house and soil is everything else! Me: (well that's clear as mud.) Doug: Really, dirt is any misplaced soil Andrew: Can I bring this Wonder Dough to school because it's kind of like clay? Doug: Yeah, well what's the biggest particle in soil?  Me: (here it comes . . . wait for it . . . ) Andrew: There are three parts to soil, sand, loam, and clay. Doug: (chagrinned) That's right. Although- later he says, "That's technically not right, it's sand, silt, and clay. But I didn'

This has been a pooh-ey week at school (the pun is intended- as you'll see later). I have been bitter, moody, resentful, frustrated, and easily annoyed- but only with the world outside my classroom.  I am not typically like that.  I am usually a glass half full kind of gal when it comes to work.  Even when the budget cuts being threatened to our paychecks are possibly damaging to my meager lifestyle- I am not griping about it.  I am still finding the positives.  However, this week I will gladly trump anyone's bad day with 15 minutes of my day.  Yesterday was the peak of my horrid-ness and then I got annoyed with myself (there's only so much crabbiness of myself that I can take).  And so I ate carbs for dinner (frozen waffles that I toasted and burnt popcorn) and I got over myself.  I am a self contained high school special education teacher.  This is my 14th year teaching.  This is my 3rd year teaching in my classroom.  I did not come to my class by choice- but by Fate.

Sometimes I feel sorry for Doug.  I don't think he meant to marry a woman who has the sense of humor of a 15 year old boy, but alas he did.  I mean, the poor man just wants to have a thought provoking, serious conversation about hydroponics and I keep making marijuana jokes.  I may or may not have told you that Doug is an agriculture teacher.  He has 3 greenhouses at his school and a shop in which he teaches teenagers how to weld, build things like lawn furniture, and the basics of plumbing and electricity (seriously- isn't he awesome?!  Who, in their right mind, would purposely put themselves in the vicinity of teenage males and power tools?!).  In his greenhouses, he grows common annuals like impatients, petunias, and begonias, nd some perennials like hostas and shasta daisys.  Plus, he grows quite a few vegetable plants- which are the best of any nursery around (one time he sold out of squash plants before I could get any- so I had to buy some from Lowes and they were the

Let me just say, that up to this point in Andrew's life, I have successfully avoided any discussions on where babies come from.  Well, that's not true.  When he was 3.5 he became very interested in where babies come from. I just didn't feel like I needed to get into the intricacy of how they actually came about.  Not at 3.5.  But let me assure you, he was hard to disuade, I did the old, they come out of a mommy's tummy!  But how did they get there?  Then I told him from God.  I am pretty sure he suspected I wasn't telling him all there was to know.  I thought for sure, I would have to explain something when I was pregnant with Alexa.  I even did internet research on possible explanations.  There were some explanations that clearly weren't comfortable discussing where babies come from, and then there were some that clearly wanted to scar their children for life.  I got lucky and it never became an issue.  Tonight, preparing a batch of chocolate chip cookies, I

I bet you think this post is going to be about Alexa, but you're wrong!  It's about me!!!! A few days ago, a fellow running friend and I were laughing at ourselves and how dramatic our inner monologues are when we're running.  Since I am just getting into the bulk of my long distance training runs (8 miles today- in the chill and mist!) I have found the last few weeks have been filled with lots of ups and downs.  Here's a break down of my mental state. Miles 1-4:  I rock!  I am so fast.  This pace is brilliant.  I can't believe how easy it is today.  I am so kicking my own a$$!  Tra la la what a beautiful morning!  Just a woman out running, feet hitting the pavement, dominating the world! Mile 4-5: I suck.  I am tired.  I can't do this.  Is that rain?!  Please let it be raining so that I can quit.  I am so slow.  My pace was so much better last week.  How can I be this slow?  Seriously- was that a turtle going faster than me?  I bet a grandma on a walker

Alexa is a biter.  Yesterday when I picked her up, her teacher gleefully said, "Alexa had a great day!  She only bit once!!!!"  That's a great day?!  Good grief. Today I picked her up and her teacher said, "Wild Woman you can go home now!!"  I debated on turning and leaving and letting Doug pick her up.  Alexa had herself a day.  She bit a child . . . not once, but twice.  Not only did she bite that poor kid- she broke the skin! I love Alexa's teachers.  They're so reasonable and calming.  Once they told me the whole story, I am not surprised that she bit.  I am not justifying it.  Biting is bad!  However, I understand  why she did it.  It turns out the first biting incident occurred as they were sitting down to eat lunch.  Apparently the boy and Alexa were having a scuffle over who was going to sit in a particular chair.  Alexa is very . . . rigid.  That was "her" chair and how dare that boy try to steal it!!!  She was defending what

I got a snazzy new camera just in time for t-ball season.  I am still learning all the bells and whistles, and if I could convince a grandparent to come and help entertain a certain young lady . . . I could really document Doug. . . I mean Andrew!  Andrew!  I would never photograph Doug to make fun of him later.  That would be a mean thing to do.  It's just so hard.  Doug is so animated during games.  He's so entertaining.  I will say this- several of the parents have said, "He's so good with the boys!  He never yells at them and he's so patient."  I always say, "Thank you. He really enjoys it."  But in my head I am thinking "Patient?!"  But then when you look at the boys running around trying to tag each other, or losing their gloves, or building sand castles and see he's not wigging out . . . yeah he is patient with them.  And he is a really good coach- but a very animated one. Here are some pictures from tonight!  Don't wo

There are 2 main differences between mothers and fathers: This is the bathroom- while I get to use it. This is the bathroom while Doug gets to use it.   Do you see the difference?  Surely you see- the open door, the junk strewn across the floor, the baby on the floor- inside the bathroom.  And here at Doug's door- you see the silence, practically hear the crickets chirping outside Doug's door, no evidence of children hanging around outside the door . . . oh yeah, because they don't! 

If you are currently pregnant, or seriously considering adding to your family . . . turn away.  Turn away from this post.  It is not for you.  It'll scare you- as though you just watched "Rosemary's Baby." However, if you are on the other side of that fence, and would like proof as to why you shouldn't add to your family, like to congratulate yourself for making the choice to not add to your family, or dissuade your teenage children.  Stay, bookmark this site, and view this post as often as necessary.    These are scenes from our house this evening.  This is not one isolated incident- these are several incidents. .  Like I would have a montage of Alexa's fits without a head banging incident!

Boy were we busy at the Latta house today!  Doug woke up before all of us and went to Lowe's to get landscape bricks and donuts.  When he came home- we were at least out of bed.  So we ate our delicious breakfast, and got ready to go work in the yard.  I may have mentioned before- but we have a lot of trees, so when severe thunderstorms or windy conditions exist- we spend the next week picking up sticks.  Andrew, Alexa, and I were going out to pick up a stick or two thousand and Doug was going to landscape around the mailbox.  By the time we came inside at 2pm- we had gotten up most of the sticks, mowed the yard, blown off the deck, driveway, and sidewalk, and finished the landscaping around the mailbox.  We were POOPED, but there is no rest for the weary because we needed to eat lunch, shower, and get to a birthday party!  It's 2:55pm and we're all showered and dressed- except for Alexa.  I was working on getting her pants and shoes on, when I hear, from across the house

The last time we went to visit my in-laws, my sister in law gave us a box of torture, oops I mean legos.  She gave us a box of legos- not torture.  My bad.  It was a kit of 985 pieces to make a fighter plane.  Of course, the next day Andrew wants to get started on it.  Well funny thing . . . I actually like to build with legos.  Something about it is enjoyable.  I am not sure why I enjoy it so much, but I do.  We like to follow directions to build things that are pre-engineered.  Andrew likes to build from his imagination for some things- but when it comes in a kit . . . the directions must be followed.  So, the next day we get started.  Wow.  It was a little daunting, there were all these parts.  So many many many many pieces!  At first we just threw all the pieces into a box, but then we decided to put like pieces together in ziplock bags to make them easier to locate.  Doing that . . . made the project so much more manageable!  It started as just Andrew and I building it, but t

I have mixed feelings on surprises.  Some surprises are great.  For example, if Doug wanted to surprise me with a date, Coach or Vera Bradley bag, a day without children- those would all be perfectly lovely surprises.  However, other surprises are . . . unsettling.  And I had a few of the unsettling variety yesterday. Apparently Andrew's class has a behavior system in which the teacher uses color coded cards: green (for good behavior), yellow (for on the verge of being not good behavior) and red (for obviously not so good behavior).  I don't know where I've been or why I have not been aware that this is the system used in his class, but for the first 5 days of school- I was oblivious to it.  However, Andrew gets into the car yesterday afternoon and begins talking about it.  He tells me that his card stayed on green, but someone else got their card pulled.  Since I hadn't heard about this system, I asked him to clue me in to the details.  I was s urprised to discover