Friday night we went to Priceville to see WCA, the kid’s school, play the…the…the dang it, I can’t remember what Priceville’s mascot is called. The…The bulldogs! Yeah, that’s it. So, we went to Priceville to see the Wildcats play the Bulldogs.


For $5 to get in the door everyone certainly got their money’s worth. Good gravy, is there anything better than high school basketball? So. Much. Fun. There’s drama and intrigue and sweating and swearing – and that’s just what’s going on in the stands.

It was a tight game throughout. The ending was especially exciting. There was nail biting, hands being thrown in the air, tempers, and lots of friendly tension.


Unfortunately now I’m experiencing PYARS. You’re familiar with PYARS, right? Post Yelling At Ref Syndrome
WCA versus Priceville 2016Sheesh, can you think of  a more stressful job than referring? Billy and I got to laughing during the game – imagining what it would be like if other jobs were like the referee’s job. Like, what if every time you made a decision at your job people stood up and yelled “BOO! You suck! Get some glasses!” How would that fly in the corporate world? Getting heckled at work would probably be pretty awkward.


“Here are those reports you wanted.”

You used comic sans? BOOO!!!!!!!!! You’re terrible! My toddler makes better decisions!!!!”

I walked out of the game tonight and thought ‘yikes, I was possibly a little out of control with the yelling.’ I’m blaming it on Emily. She was egging me on!


She looks innocent but don’t let her fool you. She was yelling too.

Ya know…let’s not call it yelling. Let’s call it…er…uh…aggressively encouraging. Yeah! We were being aggressively encouraging towards the refs. Those ‘boos’ were really just us saying…Uh…

Nope. I can’t sell that. Aggressively encouraging my Aunt Fanny. We were booing.

PYARS – it’s a real thing. Consider this blog post your PSA about it. Don’t let it happen to you.




Do the Math

Do the Math

Seven days in Colorado with two adults, five kids (yeah, we left the littlest at home), and no washing machine. Hmm…how much laundry can that little scenario generate? You do the math. I’ll just answer with the words a lot. It can generate a lot of laundry. Like, so much that I’m currently avoiding it in a myriad of ways.

Amongst the myriad, here are some ways that stand out:

  1. Trolling my nephews

Tonight I got stuck while trying to help my fifth grader with his homework. I immediately consulted the brain trust – i.e. my nephews. They really are ridiculous. I tried to play Forbidden Island with them last weekend and their brains operated on a level so far above mine that I basically just had to let them play for me.

I texted them about number 17 and Avery immediately responded. So, I thought the only appropriate course of action was to accuse Tucker, ahem – who made a THIRTY SIX on his ACT, of not being able to handle the problem.



It was the only sensible thing to do.


#2 Looking at potential ski wear for Billy next season:


#3 Trying on dresses that I’ve neither worn nor would fit into since 1998:


It’s a fantastic dress, though, isn’t it?

#4 Marveling at how much Hank looks like Steve McQueen:


Being a movie star would suit Hank just fine. A couple days ago he told me he’d love to be ejected from a football game because everyone would be looking at him when he walked off the field. Yeah, let’s go on and face palm that.

And lastly,

#5 Working on my Christmas Cards

Look, isn’t it more fun to write ‘Lots of Girls and James’ in the address line instead of ‘Mr and Mrs James Wessel.’ Plus, sometimes you just need to give the postman something to laugh at.


So is my laundry done? Nope. But my Christmas Cards are. Well, sort of. No stamps and no return addresses but other than that they’re done. So, 1/3 of the way done…or something like that. You know, you’ll just have to do the Math.

Encouragement – Nailed It

Encouragement – Nailed It

My Mom is physically incapable of just sitting around. My Dad is too but my Mom is in denial about it. Like, she’d say she can do it but she can’t. Case in point: she was at my house while we were in Colorado –  the why of this is a long story – and sent me the following text:


When I got home the cleaning fairy – i.e. Mom – had done a bunch of laundry and straightened up. It was awesome. One of the things she found though…not sure if it was awesome or not.

It was…it was something, though.

I present to you, a letter from my eight year old foster daughter to my six year old biological daughter.

Dear Stella,

I hope you have a great day tomorrow…

Well, it certainly starts out on a positive note…

…and hope that you are not whinning [whining] and that you can learn the word’s in a story but if you can’t and you still have to go to kintergarn then you won’t finshed school and you won’t get to colege…

Clearly, she has Stella’s best educational interests in mind.


“You have to learn to ride a bike and to learn about wearing pull-ups, when you are in high school and you still wear pull ups then you can’t go to college and when you are a grown up and you still wear pull-ups then it will be horrible. 

Yes, Stella still wears Pull Ups at night. It’s an issue. It wasn’t an issue when she was three or four or really even five. But now, it’s an issue. It’s especially an issue since, apparently, she isn’t going to college and her life will be horrible if she doesn’t stop wearing them. Just between me and you and the Internets though, the eight year old doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to this issue.

A typical morning conversation:

Foster Daughter: I changed jammies during the night because I got hot. 

Me: Really, because the jammies you took off are wet.

Her: Well, I think I sweated a lot. 

Me: It smells like you wet your pants, do you think that might have happened? 

Her: Well…maybe. But at least I don’t wear Pull Ups like Stella! 

The note continues with it’s it’s final and maybe most important sentence:


“You need to stop tattle taleing.”

Indeed. Don’t we all, child. Don’t we all.