The Latta Family

Alexa got some "Ivy and Bean" books for Christmas.  If you haven't read them, and you have an early elementary aged girl . . . you should!  I was rolling. We finished the first book tonight.  In the story, Bean- a little sister that is a bit of a pest- decides to get revenge on her older sister Nancy (who, at the ripe old age of 11 years old, is a bit condescending and bossy).  So Bean, and her new friend across the street, decide they're going to cast a spell on Nancy and make it so she won't be able to stop dancing . . . EVER!  In order to do so, they need worms.  Obviously, things didn't go as planned.  However there was a scene that reminded me of something I may have done to my own sister at one time.   I am thinking I was around the age of 10 or 11, which meant my sister was around the age of 5 or 6.  I had been being a bit of a brat. I don't remember what I was doing.  Probably nothing. I was probably being angelic and my mother was just bein

We have just returned from our final Christmas celebration.  I won't lie, this has been the weirdest Christmas. I thought it was just me, but my mother and mother in law, both said the same thing.  Since three of us agree, it must be true for all of you. Was it the weather?  I mean, doggone the weather is WEIRD.  Tonight, in Arkansas there are tornados.  Here in North Carolina, I haven't worn a jacket, other than my rain jacket, in weeks.  I've spent the last 2 days in flip flops- comfortably.  We've had spring-like rain storms.  I have daffodils starting to bloom!  The weather is definitely NOT Christmassy.  (We've been told that it was supposed to be a cold, snowy winter. LIES!  Although, The Weather Channel is saying that January will be colder than average and . . . is uttering the "S" word.) Was it that I have been distracted by big changes happening for our family?  Possibly.  Doug and I suddenly decided to put our house on the market.  So we&#

I'm telling you what . . . I've got a weird situation happening. My kids are growing up. They play for extended periods of time without needing me.  I have been been dreaming of this happening for years.  In my dreams I would do "stuff."  I would do it all by myself.  I would go to the bathroom by myself.  I would . . . I don't know.  The dream was so far away, it was hard to truly imagine.  Now it's here. On Saturday, Alexa had a friend over.  Andrew was at a friend's house.  Doug was doing Doug things and I was at a total loss of what to do with myself! I sat on the couch. I fidgeted. I walked around the house aimlessly. I hit the goody containers- a lot. I Pinterested. I Facebooked. I instagrammed. I did that all again. I was bored and I had no idea what to do with myself. Finally I remembered I was behind on "Big Bang Theory" episodes. I got caught up. I hit the goody container again. It was the most bizarre feeling.  I haven

Poor old Andrew.  He has eczema.  Has had it since he was 3 years old.  He suddenly turned up with this crazy, itchy rash all over his forearms.  I used to cut the foot off of children's socks, and put the other part on his arms- and secure them there with electrical tape (it's super cheap!)  Every night before he'd go to bed, I SLATHER his arms with A&D to heal up the red, scabby spots, cover it with the socks and secure them with the electrical tape.  Weeks of that not working, I took him to the pediatrician, who had no thoughts, but recommended us to a dermatologist.  The first dermatologist, briefly looked at him and told me he had bed bugs.  I was furious.  Really?  Don't you think the rest of us would have them??  What kind of house does she think I run???  The next dermatologist said eczema. We did allergy testing to make sure it wasn't some type of allergy.  I don't remember doing food allergies.  I just remember doing environmental, but frankly I am

When Alexa was first born . . . she was quite the disruption to Andrew's pretty sweet life.  For the previous 5 years, he had been the sole focus of most of my attention.  Then suddenly, a loud, temperamental baby came storming into his home, and nothing was ever the same after that. For the first 3 years of Alexa's life, Andrew was mostly disinterested in her and her presence.  He never did anything super mean, but he never really did much good either.  He simply tolerated her existence, but possibly hoped she'd leave for some reason. Sometime around 3.5 years old, Alexa stopped crying so much.  She stopped being quite as temperamental.  She was developmentally at a stage where she desired interaction with another human, when she played, as opposed to the side by side playing she'd been doing.  However, Andrew hadn't quite let go of the resentment that she was not always the funnest playmate, so he didn't play too much with her, plus she was deep in the pri

Every now and then I have a straight up BRILLIANT parenting moment.  It came to me suddenly today.  It is frankly a pretty creative consequence that I am pretty sure is going to result in stopping a behavior, I'm about done with. Andrew has been pushing the envelope lately, on what Doug and I will tolerate with language. Nothing serious.  In fact- pretty harmless.  However, I know Andrew, and if I give him an inch . . . he'll take a mile.  Is he going to cuss and talk trashy with his pals?  Uhhh, probably.  I'm not stupid. He needs to learn there are appropriate places to use "naughty" words, and places not to.  And. . . inappropriate language ain't gonna happen with his parents, his grandparents, or . . . pretty much with any adult. He's been warned a LOT lately.  Those warnings, gentle reminders, rational explanations for why I don't want him using those words (aka: a younger, impressionable sister), sarcastic remarks are falling on selectively d

Holy Cow!!!  It's been over a month since I last blogged!  What's my deal?  It's like I started a school year, a new baseball season, and I couldn't get my act together.  Well . . . that's exactly what it is.  It's been this week that I have finally felt like I am not going to drown.  It's a nice feeling.  It's such a good feeling, I am going to paint my finger nails and blog tonight.  Yeah! Here's a catch up: Alexa started kindergarten.   She LOVES it.  She wakes up happy, and is ready to go every morning. She is so different from Andrew.  She tells me EVERYTHING.  Andrew . . . tells me NOTHING. I hear about Andrew's day from Alexa- because even though he's on a different hall and in a completely different grade- she knows.  She always knows . . . .  We really should have planned our children to be closer together.  It would have been handy to have her around when he was in middle school and high school.  I would have really encouraged he

It's National Dog Day, and instead of writing a post glorifying my dog, I'm going to tell you what a goof she is. It's a good thing she has lots of good qualities, besides protecting me.  She's the biggest . . .scaredy . . . cat, except she's a dog.  She gets scared of sticks, sometimes leaves, mysterious sounds with no source, one time a chair that was sitting near the road on the night before trash pick up. This whole story is totally related to my goofy dog.  So last year I was having back trouble, which lead to some pretty aggravating sciatic pain.  In the late spring, I went to a licensed, medical professional who specialized in back pain.  Instead of getting actual help, I got a pill pusher.  I got offered everything from hydrocodone to an epidural.  I was disgusted.  On my way home from that total waste of money, I called my dad to vent.  He said, "Kate- I have bad news.  You're going to have to suck it up and go walk."  It wasn't what I

This week is a bit of an emotional one for me.  It's the last week one of my children will go to the daycare we've been going to for 10 years.  Ten solid years.  Almost everyday of the school year and sporadically in the summer I have walked in the door, greeted whoever was behind the counter, checked in, and walked down the hall to a classroom.  Upon entering the room, we were greeted by a teacher that has most likely been in that facility since we started going there.  Almost all of Alexa's teachers. . . had Andrew, except for 2 (by the time they went through the facility- they had 17 teachers).  Some of those teachers have been there since it opened.  That daycare has been open for close to 20 years. Folks- I don't know if you know about daycares, but that kind of staff stability is unheard of in a daycare.  They have notoriously high turn over.  Understandably.  Low pay, crap hours, and . . . small children (I teach high school for a reason, people).  If it's a

For the most part, we have a pretty calm house.  I mean- we have 2 kids, so there is going to be loudness, but for the most part it's calm.  However, occasionally our blissful calm is broken by a shriek that could break glass.  If you are unaccustomed to these random, high pitched shrieks, it could cause you alarm.  I don't even blink an eye. We don't have a poltergeist.  We don't live near a train (well- super close).  We don't have a cat in heat.  We have a 5 year old girl!  Her shriek can mean anything.  Literally.  It could be a fly (not one of those Killer Bees we used to hear were coming to get us, from Mexico).  The scream could be due to a certain 10 year old male that also lives in our home (tonight he put a napkin under my fork, when he set the table.  She wanted to put my napkin under my fork.  For the record, it was Andrew's job to set the table.) Perhaps it's a crumb of bread she found on her arm (she thought her skin was falling off).  Maybe

I don't know what it is about an outdoor shower, but I just love them!  Somehow the shower experience is better.  No worries people- it's private, no one can see anything they shouldn't.  I have not turned into a free spirit.  I'm not suddenly showering in the buff.  I still have some very conservative tan lines. We just got back from the beach, and while we were there, I discovered the outdoor shower . . . on my second shower.  For some reason I shower a LOT at the beach.  I would get up and go walk, and then . . . shower off before I put my bathing suit on.  Why?  Duh. It's hard as who knows what, to get a bathing suit on, when you're all sweaty. Plus, I like to feel clean before I get covered in sand and salt water.  Figure that out. On the first day, after we returned from a long day at the beach, I made Alexa take an outside shower. I ran upstairs and got her clothes and a towel.  I just grabbed me a towel because I was just rinsing off.  I couldn't

We have had a serious problem with being slugs this week.  It started on Wednesday.  I let Andrew and Alexa watch . . . a lot of Netflix.  I felt horrible about it.  I was horrified with myself.  I tried to reason with myself that honestly up until Wednesday neither of them had really watched tv this summer. Andrew had played on the XBox,but neither of them had really watched tv, maybe an hour or two of screen time a week.  So if we had a veg out day on Wednesday, it was okay, still I felt terrible.  I was clearly establishing a pattern of laziness in my children.  I was a terrible example. I sucked as a parent. We had been so busy with camp, baseball, activities, friends, and "stuff" we hadn't had a lay around day.  I assured myself Wednesday night that we would be more productive on Thursday! Well, Alexa went to school (she goes 2 days a week- sometimes).  I came home and went for a long walk and then made Andrew come outside to mow the back and side yard, except tha

Two summers ago, I tried to talk Andrew into reading Harry Potter.  He wasn't into it.  I was devastated.  How could he not LOVE this book????  How could he be related to me????  Did I still love him?????? Last summer, I decided to try a different route.  I let him watch "Sorcerer's Stone."  I remember when that movie came out.  Katie Couric went on the set when the movie was being promoted.   Andrew LOVED the movie and then I was able to convince him to read the book.  Well, I read it, he listened. We got through Books 1,2, & 3 last summer.  Happy days were here again! I know some people are against the whole Harry Potter series.  Which has always, always, always, puzzled me.  That's such a short sighted theme.  It's like reading To Kill a Mockingbird  and saying that it's about a girl living in the South.  Or reading The Old Man and the Sea  and saying it's about a dude who went fishing.  If you say Harry Potter is about magic, well okay.  Yo

Alexa and I had to make a run to the grocery store this afternoon.  After we got all of our items, we got in line.  It was a busy time of day, so we had to wait awhile.  While we were standing there, there were plenty of things to catch our eye and keep us entertained: candy & gum on the right, and glossy magazines on the left. I'm not sure what attracted Alexa to them.  She's never really paid attention to them before, but today she noticed the magazines.  I feel it need to be commemorated. Again, I am not sure what attracted her to the glossy magazines.  Was it me?  I was looking at the covers.  Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner are having marital woes.  One of the Kardashians is too.  I could get a beach bod with Jillian.  Or I could make a delicious dessert.  And Oprah wanted to tell me how to relax. Thankfully this grocery store was a step up from Wal Mart- so there was no Cosmopolitan with it's 8 tips to make my summer nights even hotter. The magazine that cau

A few weeks ago, a Facebook friend posted a picture of a list that she made for her children to earn screen time everyday.  It was a stroke of genius and so I stole her idea and made my own list, for my children to earn screen time. I told my mom about this genius plan and she laughed at me.  At. Me.  Not with me.  She didn't believe it would work.  Well, hahahaha!  She was right, sort of. Andrew gets up and dashes about doing his chore, making sure nothing of his is in the living room, and will even be active for 45 minutes.  Get him to read???????  I spend 45 minutes chasing him off of technology, taking it away, nagging him, having him argue with me until . . . he either decides it's not worth it and finds something else to do, or gives in and reads for 5 minutes and tells me he read for 20.  Then reads for 7 minutes and tells me he read for 30.  Tells me . . . well you get the point. The thing is . . . he's fine with reading, as long as I read to him.  We're

Way back before I had kids, someone once said, "Sometimes I get more out of seeing my kid experience something, than if I were to do it."  Well, as a young, childless person I didn't understand that, but now I totally get that. In case you didn't know, this family is a fan of N.C. State.  I am by default.  Andrew and Alexa were born into it, and Doug is an actual alumni. I have 3 kinds of t-shirts in my drawers: NC State, the school where I teach, and baseball teams.  When we're getting dressed in the mornings Doug and I make sure the other one knows which NC State shirt we're wearing, so that we don't match.  That happens- a lot more than you would think.  Andrew's kindergarten teacher asked me half way through the year, if he had any other shirts than NC State ones.  Recently I had picked up one of Andrew's friends and they were coming to our house for the first time, and before we turned in the driveway he said, "That's your house.  I

I flew in the door about 20 minutes before Doug and Andrew had to leave to go to baseball practice. Doug was heating up leftovers and fussing at Andrew because he was sitting on the couch, still dressed in school clothes and playing MineCraft (he didn't know he had to go- he claims).  He gets dressed, while Doug and I are griping about the day (it's the end of the school year . . . there's a lot of griping and eating chocolate and drinking Diet Coke, even though I almost completely kicked the habit).  As we sit down to eat, Andrew dashes out the door and leaves the door to the garage open. He apparently felt that he had to get his bat bag out of my car, right that minute (although- frankly, it was probably a good idea; he would forget his head if weren't attached).  Next thing, he's standing at Doug's truck bellowing to us, in the house.  We can't hear him so we're hollering back, "WHAT????  WE CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!!!" A= "DAD! OPEN YOUR

Did you know that there is a fairly big market of accessories for baseball mom's?  Go to Etsy and type in "baseball mom."  You will see 13,000 items come up.  There are bags, purses, jewelry, shoes, shirts, hair items . . . you name it- it's there.  What in the world?????  Go to a little league baseball game and you will see quite a few of those items.  If you're not into youth sports . . . you're missing out. One of these days Andrew is going to look at us and say he's done playing baseball.  I will be so sad. I love baseball.  People who don't hang out at baseball fields, totally don't get it.  Maybe they think we're weirdos.  Maybe they think we're pressuring our kids and forcing them to play this insane, time consuming sport.  People who do hang out at baseball fields . . . you get it.  You will totally understand this post. One time I posted this picture on Facebook. And my friend said- "No wonder y'all can stay at a fie

This morning, while we were eating breakfast, I announced that I was going to re-paint the cabinets this summer.  Doug looks thoughtful and he says, "You know, what if we took this cabinet out, got a new stove, and then we could put in that new breakfast area, but only if we replace the window.  Let's just redo the kitchen."  I responded, "Only if we hire someone to do all that work." When we first bought our house, we were major DIY-ers.  We did it all.  We've re-done the kitchen, put in all new windows, new flooring, a new deck, and tons of landscaping.  We've done it all.  The last 4 years, we haven't really done hardly anything around the house.  Oh, we talk about it, but nothing ever seems to get done.  We don't seem to ever get a project started, much less completed. Today, I discovered why.  See, when I announced my plan to repaint the cabinets, Doug began the old "Distract and Deflect" maneuver.  I announced a project, and h

I mentioned this on Facebook recently- and I have continued to do it. Alexa has ALWAYS been the pickiest eater- except when she was 6 month until about 12 months and then she'd eat anything.  Then when she was about 18 months old, she went on a food strike that limits her to about 10 different food items and has never really moved past it. I've never really taken up the fight with her on food. I make a few half hearted attempts every now and then, but honestly, it's not worth the fight.  Meals are frequently emotional events for her.  Is it the time of day?  Is it the shared attention?  Is it having to sit and eat food she doesn't like/want/desire/feel in the mood for?  I have no idea.  Meals usually end with her stomping off, crying, or pouting at the table. Since the behavior is such an issue- food is not worth my fight. For Pete's Sake just feed the girl something she'll eat, so that I don't have to add that to the list of possible reasons for an emot

I ran to the grocery store after school today.  I was in some desperate need of a hamburger for dinner. As I was leaving this lovely, older gentleman gestured for me to walk in front of him, and said, "Ladies first!"  I was flattered with his good manners, and said, "Oh! Thank you so much!"  He said, "Well, I need someone to check for land mines."  Oh, that cheeky, stinker. I turned around to give him a hard time and noticed his hat.  He had served in the US Navy. I started chatting with him.  Thanked him for his service.  Asked him what boats he had been on.  He tells me all about how he and his fellow sailors were pretty naughty and had quite a reputation when they finally got off the boat.  Apparently he and his pals got up to some pretty wild antics when they were in Bermuda one time. He tells me all about how he lives in another county, but comes all the way to this grocery store, so he can get his $50 gas card, and his old geezer (his words- not

The first time I met Doug's parents, they teased me about being a "City Girl." I laughed because . . . I came from the "city" of Spartanburg.  It hardly counts.  However . . . compared to where they used to live, it was the city.  They lived way out in the country.   When I first started teaching, 17 years ago, the school I'm at- was a country school.  That was 17 years, and a LOT of suburban development later.  There was nothing but fields around my high school.  Now?  Now.  Now there are: shopping centers, grocery stores, movie theaters, a bazillion neighborhoods.  Traffic can be ridiculous at times.   Doug is an agriculture teacher.  His content has changed a little bit over the years.  He still teaches horticulture, but does a lot more shop stuff now.  Students "down there" in Ag World learn how to weld, and do wood working, a little bit of electrical, and maybe some plumbing (they used to- do they still?  I don't know.  A good wife,

Doug claims he had no idea he was committing such an atrocious, foul, crime.  I beg to differ. When cleaning out a bag this morning, I stumbled on a 1/2 opened bag of Tropical Skittles (they weren't old).  Jack POT!!!!!  I hid those bad boys behind some bread on the kitchen counter and proceeded to graze on them while I made lunch and started prep work to make this week's Mason Jar Salads for mine and Doug's lunches.  (Total side note: if you're not on the Mason Jar Bandwagon . . . YOU SHOULD BE!!!!!!!!!!). I was down to the last 5 Skittles: 4 pink and 1 purple.  The very best flavors of the bag.  I got distracted and forgot about them for a bit.  When I went to get them . . . they were GONE!  There's only one person in my house that was tall enough to see them behind the bread and at the back of the counter. I stomped out to the deck (where Doug was enjoying his lunch) and berated him for stealing the last 5 Skittles.  I couldn't say all the things I wanted

Weeks ago, a fake snake showed up in our yard.  I noticed it one day, when I was walking the dog. I saw it from a distance, and approached with caution.  I wasn't too alarmed by it, as snakes don't bother me- at all.  (birds are a whole other story, and I will dance around the yard like a freak, if one buzzes by me. I once ran off the deck and left a tiny toddler Alexa on the deck, where a bird landed. Proud mom moment.)   I assumed it belonged to one of the kids in the neighborhood- so I left it.  I figured they'd come get it. Well, we were doing some yard work, and the snake was in the exact spot we were working, so we threw it to another spot.  At this point, it was a little buried in the grass and not as noticeable because the grass was getting taller, so now when we would walk around the yard, the "snake" would surprise one of us.  And yet . . . we left it.  Why?  Duh!  It was fun watching one of us get surprised. Earlier this week, Doug got a text from a

Somehow turning 40, seems like a bigger deal than turning 30.  Turning 30 didn't really fret me too much.  I'm not really upset that I am turning 40 next year.  I'm not trying to reverse the clock, consider plastic surgery, Botox my lips, have a midlife crisis, or other stuff like that. I think it seems like a big deal because I actually remember when my parents and their friends turning 40.  I remember thinking my parents were such adults (except for when that People magazine picture of Patrick Swayze diving into his pool, and supposedly a very specific part of his anatomy was sticking out of speedos.  I remember the Mom's sitting around laughing about that for awhile).  I don't think they laughed when people said, "Balls." (however, after recalling that Patrick Swayze event, they probably did, and I just didn't notice). I don't remember them being as dorky as I sometimes am. They seemed mature and responsible. Of course. . . they were my parent

I won't lie, this week has kicked my tail.  On Tuesday, I thought I had worked 2 days in one.  On Wednesday- I knew I worked 3 days in one, and today . . . well today, I am ashamed to say, today was exhausting.  I took a nap.  I ate peanut butter and jelly on toast, with chocolate milk for dinner. It kicked my tail so bad, that I fed my kids sandwiches with chips, and chocolate milk for dinner. I didn't have the energy to do anything else. Oh, sandwiches aren't so bad?  How about those sandwiches were made on white bread.  Yep.  Go ahead.  Judge. You know you want to.  I would. White bread is from the devil.  Why do we even have white bread in the house???  Doug used it in the breakfast casseroles he fixed for the FFA's faculty breakfast earlier this week.  The slices were leftover.  Andrew thought he was getting a treat.  White bread is a treat.  Bless him. I hope I step my game up tomorrow- and don't feed my kids sandwiches on white bread. This reminds me of

Every now and then I have a blood sugar drop.  It almost never happens, but when it does I become a raging, irrational lunatic. It's the most unusual feeling.  I feel so out of control, and ready to lash out verbally & physically at anybody.  I am waiting for a fight.  Seriously- I would be willing to brawl with anyone- I don't care how much bigger or more experienced at fighting they might be.  I could take them.  Try me. It happened tonight.  I left school, picked up my groceries, got Alexa, came home, walked the dog, put up the groceries, and then straightened up, while Alexa and I hung out.  Well, 5:30pm comes and goes.  I'm hungry, but Doug & Andrew are coming home with pizza, so I am going to wait.  I realize- when the dog starts really nagging me- what?!  It's 6:03!!!  Where the heck is Doug?!  I'm hungry! So I feed the dog.  I get the plate outs, the drinks ready, and try to call- no answer.  Now it's 6:15.  What the heck?  I call again.  Sti

What is it about a Snow Day that I am suddenly inspired to cook and bake . . . a lot? Last night I made the most delicious homemade creamy tomato soup.  It was PERFECT for an icy, cold night.   Copycat Panera Creamy Tomato Soup.  I like Panera.  At one time, it was my favorite "fast food" restaurant.  It still ranks up there, however it tends to be a little more expensive than it might be worth and a little too salty. All that salt makes me suspicious of them.  They like to claim they use range free chickens, no hormone added meats, but . . . if it's so humane, and healthy- why do they add so much sodium?  They aren't tricking me into thinking I can eat a ton- because it's range & hormone free.  I see their marketing ploys. Oh yeah, I got on a conspiracy tangent.  My bad.  (If I am this weird at the ripe old age of almost 39, can you imagine what a curmudgeon I'll be when I'm 69, or even 79?!!!)  What I loved about this recipe is- it was AWESOME.