Seemed like it was going to be another day on the mill, nose to the grindstone.

Filed the kids in and out, ate my lunch, took attendance...you know, all the basic mundane requirements of my job.

Then, seventh (and last) period rolled around. I stopped in the teachers' lounge to pop a mini-bag of popcorn. A little mid-afternoon snack now allays the hunger pangs later. Anyway, I set the timer for 1:30 minutes and then buzz quick to the bathroom. I come back to blankets of smoke issuing forth from the microwave like an electronic Mount St. Helens. Within seconds, the fire alarm goes off and the entire school has to evacuate.

Yes. All me. Without assistance from anyone, I manage to clear out the entire school. Thankfully, it wasn't for long...just a couple of minutes.

Methinks I'll add that to my list of stupendous educational achievements...right underneath getting written about on the boys' bathroom wall earlier this year.

Good god, this week flew by. Directing the community theater play in the evenings has taken up all my time - I get home after school, try to crank out some miles on the treadmill, get dinner to the table, get the kids off to their various activities they might have, and then get to the playhouse by 6:45. I'm there until 9:30, at which point I come home and pretty much go right to bed.

I got no schoolwork done, meaning I spend a big chunk of weekend time doing it.

Honestly, though, no complaints because I had a pretty good weekend. First of all, on Friday night, we went to a banquet put on by the FFA. Smoked pork loin, potatoes, corn, beans, and a variety of breads and desserts. One thing about the Future Farmers of America - they know all about the feeding people and hospitality. Then held a pie auction...made-from-scratch pies! I was able to effectively resist the apple, cherry, and peach pies...but then the banana cream came up on the block - and I was lost.

Thirty-five dollars for a banana cream pie. But. It was really effing good. I still have some in my fridge.

Saturday we schlepped all the kids to the Science Center of Iowa. I have not been in there in years, and not at all since they relocated. It is a very nice and well worth the $8 admission price. Spencer liked making racing cars out of Legos, Elliot liked the bubble wands, and Kirby liked wrapping and dropping the "egg" to see if it would break. Personally, I had a good time too, and usually I tend to tolerate those type of things because "it's for the kids". We ate lunch at Spaghetti Works, and despite the wait, it was AWESOME.

Even though we were having all this fun, I still got a lot of papers graded on the ride. We got home, made dinner, watched "Adventures in Babysitting", and got the kids in bed. I stayed up a bit late grading more papers.

Yesterday we skipped church to go to Brent's grandma's auction. She is showing the signs of Alzheimer's and was recently moved into assisted living. So the family sold the stuff they couldn't fit into the apartment. We got a really nice, barely used loveseat for $50, some sweet vintage disease signs, and a Cyclone figurine that belonged to Brent's grandpa.

Then we went out for dinner with the whole family, and got home around 7:30. I got on the treadmill, finished entering grades, and went to bed about 9:30.

All in all, fairly serviceable weekend.

So, seven years ago today, I was trying to get a decent night of sleep because it would be my last night as a member of a family of three.

I was scheduled to be induced because I was a week overdue (originally the Ides of March - et tu, Brute?). By 8:00 am on the 22nd, I was hooked up to monitors, injected with Pitocin, and ready to begin my Herculean labors. Not quite two-year-old Spencer was spending the day (and night) at a friend's.

By 8:07 pm that night, I had delivered a healthy, eight-pound, nine-ounce baby girl named Kirby Claire Nelson.

And now...that same precious, darling, almost-seven-year-old girl got in major trouble tonight for calling her older brother an asshole. She says it just slipped out when she was provoked by said older brother and older cousin. Happy Birthday, Sweetheart.

Tomorrow, she is having a birthday party at the bowling alley with five little girlfriends...Hannah Montana-themed! They will eat pizza and cake, open presents, and bowl on lanes with bumpers (so as to prevent gutterballs).

Meanwhile, Mom will lament the passing of the last couple of days of her Spring Break.

Hmmm...there are so many options. I've had a lot on my mind lately, like...

1. Seeking medical attention
2. Return to Paganism
3. Easter gifts and philosophy
4. Home remodeling
5. Energy draining of pointless committees
6. How "Dr. Seuss' Horton Hears a Who!" is, in fact, a thinly disguised critique of Adolf Hitler's Third Reich.

Well, Chuck, I feel like seeing what's behind Door Number Three. Easter.

OK, you all know me, and how hard it can be for me to celebrate Christian holidays without a vomitous feeling in the back of my throat at the hypocrisy of it all. You all know that I think it's a complete farce that the entire month of December (practically) consists of annoying radio jingles, insane toy advertising, holiday special reruns, potlucks, and fattening sugar cookies - all in the name of celebrating a "man" whose birthday was actually in the spring...nowhere near December 25th.

And on that special day, I'm supposed to forget all the aforementioned items and focus on the "reason for the season". Whatever that is.

Now before I'm labeled a Grinch, I'd like to state that I do not wish to abolish Christmas. Personally, I love Christmas music and Christmas food. I like shopping and Santa and wrapping presents. I concur in my heart of hearts with the Christmas theory of being generous and giving. But, I abhor the veneer of self-righteous of religious fanatics who wave their propaganda at me, asking me to believe in a lie (the previously mentioned "Jesus Came on a Midnight Clear).

You, who know me so well, will know that I can't participate in such hypocrisy without losing my self-respect. And wanting to bake my head in the nearest microwave oven.

And now, Easter. To me, this is the time of the year when we all should be celebrating THE EARTH. The ancients had it right when they took part in festivals welcoming back the Sun God (whom, by the way, is ageless, so there are no raging debates about his birthday). For the Greeks, the Goddess of Agriculture's daughter is returning from Hades...the weather is getting warmer, crocuses are budding, the sun is brighter...I mean, spring is in the air. I feel that happy burst of life that impels me to open my windows, run outside, and listen to the birds in their nests. I mean, it's a time of rebirth and renewal.

It's an uplifting time for me. I'm not really in the mood for a macabre story about the darkness that lurks in the heart of man. You know of whom I speak. Pontius Pilate and his band of nail-drivers. Not to mention Judas, the champion of backstabbers the world over.

But, you know, whatever.

And now, to my real point. We are not getting the kids Easter gifts this year. We've been sporadic about it in the past, and have decided to chuck the whole thing altogether. My husband's reasoning is that the kids receive too many gifts and goodies anyway, so it won't hurt them to miss Easter. Frankly, I'm glad because that means I won't have to buy them damned chocolate bunnies and Cadbury creme eggs that I would just end up scarfing myself anyway. I also won't have to explain the connection between Easter eggs and chocolate and Jesus dying on the cross (Although, this potentially could be cleared up if all candy/chocolate companies began to manufacture Chocolate Jesuses).

But most of all, I'm glad that we've jointly decided to not fall victim to parental peer pressure of getting gifts in commemoration of a holiday that, in general, we're pretty lukewarm about.

Instead, we'll probably just hang out as a family and balance eggs on their ends on Friday (the equinox...seriously, you can really do that). Now, that's something tangible I can celebrate. Balancing eggs, balancing Earth, balancing life...a return to better times.

Sunday Night
Sunday Night
Sunday Night
S-S-Sunday Niiiiiight!

Hmm...doesn't quite have the same touch, does it? Ah, who cares? I'm sitting here on a Sunday night, and I can stay up late as I want with no thoughts on how I'll feel tomorrow. Why?

It's Spring Break 2008!

And I am going to party down! Do a little scrapbooking, a little laundry, and a little quality time with my children! Do I know how to party or what?

OK, so I am now going to change the tone and topic of this entry - in a rather bizarre and macabre manner. I had a weird little medical episode today.

Today was normal. Regular breakfast, church, Sunday School, lunch at Subway...I ate a Subway turkey salad around noon.

Then we went shopping, and around two-thirty, I noticed my vision was acting weird. I was trying to read book covers and found I could only see about half of the words..like the last few letters of a word would be blurred. Ok...

We continue on and before too long, I feel a headache coming on. Not terribly bad, though, but nagging. Then I feel a little twinge in my chest region (but it doesn't last long...hardly worth noting, seems to me). Soon, my right hand goes tingly, then numb. Pretty soon, my tongue and right side of my face near my mouth go numb. The headache had desisted a little.

By this time, we're in the car heading home, and I have the weird, shaky, nauseous feeling that I get when I haven't eaten something in awhile. We stop a grocery store and my husband goes to buy me an apple, which I eat and then I fall asleep on the way home (about 20 minute ride).

I feel OK now, I just took an Advil for a bit of a headache. Kinda tired, too.

What was that???

OK, now onto to Spring Break and complete and utter idleness!