Warning: I'm the Anti June Cleaver.

Top Ten Reasons I'm not June Cleaver:

1.   My children learned the alphabet by reading fast food restaurant signs.

2.    I often give the phone number of Child Protective Services to Wesley.

3.    I've threatened to put Wesley and lately Regan up on Ebay.

4.    I refuse to put up my children's folded clothes. Instead, I, in my role as Supreme Dictator, demand that my children put up their own clothes.

5.    I deliberately cook stuff I know my kids won't eat so Dave and I can eat together after they go to bed. {Before anyone whines, I do cook them something easy}

6.    I wear weird clothes to Science Club while picking up Wesley at school after the meetings.

7.    I ask for the family discount for circus tickets when Wesley threatens to run away to join the circus.

8.    I demand a kiss from Wesley when he wants ice cream money.

9.    I sit outside under the shade drinking a cold Diet Dr. Pepper while Regan is picking up sticks and Wesley mows.

10.  I eat the curly-q thingee off the top of a Dairy Queen ice cream cone before I hand it to my kids. It's payment for stopping, don't you know?

BONUS 11.  I plant squash and other vegetables on Wesley and Regan's Facebook FarmTown Farm knowing they hate squash and zucchini.

Lemon Cheesecake Bars.

Yummy, yummy, yummy

3 cups Froot Loops crushed (makes about 1 1/2 cups crushed)
1 stick of butter, softened
1 8oz stick of cream cheese softened
1 can of sweetened condensed milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/3 cup lemon juice
1 8oz tub whipped topping thawed

Preheat 350.

Mix crushed Froot Loops and butter and press into bottom of greased 8 inch dish.  Bake for 12 minutes and allow to cool.

Meanwhile, cream the cream cheese until light and fluffy.  Add milk and mix well.  Add vanilla, lemon juice and whipped cream until well blended and lump free.

Poor cream cheese mixture onto cooled cereal crust.  Refrigerate for 2 hours until set.  Very, very, very good.

Warning: Don't walk in my house if you are sticky.

Again, trying to go the cheap route and make my own moisturizer.  I found a recipe for a rich lotion with coconut oil, cocoa butter and get this--raw honey.  Yes, you read it right and you probably are thinking that me making this is a mistake.  You are right again.

I'm happily melting all the ingredients and come to the honey.  It called for 2 tablespoons of raw honey.  I had approximately half of it and I figured, "Hey, what's the difference between Karo syrup and honey.  Both are sticky and really good in baking."

Also I justified it in thinking Martha Stewart always improvises and we're not that different.  Sure, she has dozens on staff, is obsessive about quality and has been to jail.  In retrospect, we're not all that much alike.  I don't have a staff except a lazy Collie, I'm not that concerned about using Cool Whip as opposed to making my own whipped cream and while I've been inside a jail, it was to visit a client whose child I had put in foster care and not for insider trading.

When my concoction cooled, it felt heavenly on my face.  I was so eager to show Dave my "new face" that I tripped over several piles of clean clothes and landed on the carpet.   Since there was no bleeding, I continued on my journey to impress Dave.

Dave and Wesley were watching a "Big Bang Theory" when I called out.  Wesley looked over and jumped a good two feet in the air.

"Mom, you're growing fur." Wesley had a horrified look on his face.  (Tangent here:  Wesley's concern was not over my apparent Rogaine overdose but rather me picking him up at school looking Scooby Doo's cousin)

I turned my hands over to discover my honey moisturizer did not dry smooth but like fly paper.  All the dog hair on the carpet stuck to me when I fell in my bedroom.  My hands were as hairy as a Yeti.  I had also managed to grow a bluish goatee (thank you Zack the blue merle collie).

I dived back out of sight to clean up before Wesley decided to take a picture of the new Bearded Lady who pays blackmail money to an eleven year old.

P.S. I did make a really nice beauty oil for my face minus the honey.  I've been using it for a month and could not be more happy with it.

Love, Love, Love Face Oil

1/2 ounce coconut oil
1/2 ounce shea butter
1 teaspoon sweet almond oil
1/2 teaspoon vitamin E oil
A little bit cocoa butter (about a thumbnail size)
1/4 teaspoon beeswax

Combine all in a double boiler.  Melt until the beeswax is almost melted.  Remove from heat and stir with a Popsicle stick.  Pour it into a clean container with a dropper or other top.  When you use it, pour out 4-5 drops.  Rub your hands together to warm it and apply to face.  I use this every day after cleansing.

Warning: Here is the recipe for Trouble.

This recipe is for Trouble.  Beware because it can double in size very quickly.

Ingredients:
Wesley or any 11 year old boy
Basic or Intermediate Computer Knowledge
A parent's cell phone number
A laptop computer
Internet access
Blanket
A hiding spot.

Mix Wesley, a blanket, a laptop computer and internet access.  Let the mixture stew for ten minutes in a corner or other hiding spot under the blanket.

Uncover to find Trouble in the form of a boy who registered with Ebay and won an auction feature a large bulk lot of plastic green Army Men.

Mr. Trouble now finds himself in charge of land maintenance (aka lawn mowing) this weekend to pay off the auction that Mr. Trouble's mom had to pay.  

Warning: When one of your kids becomes a smart aleck, the other is sure to follow.

Me as Dr. D

You know I thought since Wesley has slipped effortlessly into the role of Agent P to my Dr. Doofenshmirtz, I'd be spared with my other child, Regan.

Regan as Agent P

Oh but God has a warped sense of humor or the very least, has it in for me.

Walking into my bedroom last night, the strobe night light from Regan's room illuminated the floor for a second.  I screamed like a Dracula victim when I spied a snake resting near my bed.  After I pelted the reptile with shoes, I peeled myself off the closet door when the snake failed to move.  I discovered Regan planted her plastic but live looking snake.

The next episode was getting into the shower only to find Regan had coated the shower floor with conditioner.  Apparently she was practicing for the rubber dinosaur Olympic ski run and I should have been more careful (her words and Dave's unspoken thoughts) I don't know how I will explain the large bruise on my ankle or my posterior.  However, I am open to suggestions.

The final straw was flopping on the bed and onto a miniature car show featuring Hot Wheels cars in various states of condition from the wheel-less to the new car that was purchased this past weekend.  I am also open to suggestions for a good chiropractor.

I am now trying to invent a Turning a Deliquent into a Nice Child-inator.

Warning: Don't play hide and seek in a funeral home.

Yes, this seems to be a no brainer.  I won't go into details but suffice to say, Wesley will not be hiding under any furniture in a darkened room in a funeral home in the near future or distant future for that matter. 

PS He is fine and actually did not see anything except my angry face.

Warning: You should not argue with your parents during a bleeping tornado warning.

This past Friday around 2:00 a.m. I woke up to a huge thunderclap followed immediately by a flash of lightning.  Usually I sleep like a baby during thunderstorms so it was very unusual for me to be roused out of la-la land.

Then the phone rings.  It's Dave's friend who tells that Channel 2 news is broadcasting that a tornado is cutting a swath of destruction down toward our house.  Regan is already awake holding a passel of stuffed animals.  Dave runs to get Wesley out of bed.  It is important to note that Wesley sleeps on an elevated bed with a complete desk underneath.  The following is the of gist of the conversation:

Dave:  Wes, get up.  We're going to the basement.
Wes:  Leave me alone.  I'm sleepy. 
Dave (a bit more impatiently): There's a bleeping tornado coming our way.
Wes (who is a bit more awake):  Really? Where?  (At this point, Wesley hangs down from the bed and presses his face against his window)
Dave (who by now is nearing anger implosion):  Get your bleeping bleep out of bed now. 

Dave pulled him out and threw him down the stairs with me.  Regan is crying and not because of the impending tornado but the fact her stuffed animal collection is uncovered.  Wesley is grunting in anger and plops down across the basement near the only window.  He promptly tries to fall back asleep as I pull his skinny bleeping bleep off the window seat and to the secure part of the basement. 

While I'm throwing pillows over the top of Wesley, he grumbles that it isn't fair he can't sleep because of this and he wants to complain to someone (me).  I am tempted for a moment to pile more pillows on top of him but I abandon this to catch Regan as she makes a break for the stairs for her stuffed animals. 

In the meantime, Zack moseys into the room and plops down on my pillow, yawns and falls asleep.

Dave, the luckiest bleeping guy, is still upstairs listening to the weather.  Why does he get to face the tornado and I have to deal with the kids?  This is so not fair.

Three minutes later and no tornado, the all clear is sounded and Regan runs upstairs.  Wesley throws off his pillows, moaning about how I ruined his life by throwing pillows on him for no reason.

I envy Dorothy.  I would have liked to visit Oz.