I'm moving Kiddlets.com to a new server because it's turning back into a preschool site. (It was my design site..now my design site is moving to Brighterskyte.com, which is about time).

Anyhow...if some of the images and things are broken here for the next 24 to 48 hours it's because I'm moving stuff around. Just forgive me, and keep your fingers crossed. ;)
Well...hrm, someone found my site by searching for 'I want to poke your eyes out and make love'.

No, no you don't. Not really.


I have ravioli with good spagetti sauce today. I'm currently fighting a wonderful burning bout of heartburn. (It's almost like swimin' with the Devil maw!) But...it's worth it, because it's nummy. What makes good spagetti sauce according to me? (I know you don't care, but lord all mighty, you keep coming back and reading this, so you should know by now what you're going to get.)

Good spagetti sauce is when you can still identify 99.9% of all the components, but don't feel like you're crunching into a almost-done bug with every bite. Where you get big nice chunks of stuff like garlic and olives and green pepper and mushrooms and and and...

Good spagetti sauce hasn't been purreed into a sludge that looks like a mix of tomato boogers and rejected Red Cross blood.

Good spagetti sauce makes me say: "Wow." (Great big long pause) "This Spagetti Sauce Is Good."

I'm not Italian, (In fact, I'm Native American, German and Irish...nowhere near Italian) so I'm sure nobody's going to take my word for it, but you don't have to be Italian to bean someone over the head with a bat. (No offense to any Italian, except for those of you who know that comment was for you, then take as much offense as you wish.) So, I don't think you have to be Italian to know what good `getti sauce is either.

Thank you for joining me for this extremely nonsense post, I hope you enjoyed it almost as much as the point of posting it baffled you. Come again soon. That is all.


100 Things About Me #85: I've been shot at.

When I was younger and my mom was still married to The Psycho, we spent alot of time being shuffled around from one place to live to another. Mostly because it was one way that he (The Psycho, that's really mean..I should quit calling him that) could keep control, by telling us where we could or couldn't live.

One of the places we used to live was a little rinky-dink town in Eastern Oregon called Stanfield, in fact, if you were to visit that lovely peice of smoking donkey poo town today, you could drive past the house I used to live in next to the city park. According to my grapevine sources, the house is still owned by T.P., or possibly T.P's parents. (Sold to them on a whim to get them to pay his overdue child support, no doubt.)

Please note that I call him 'The Psycho' not because I harbor undelt with anger towards the man - oh no - I call him that because he is. And I have the manifestos to prove it.

Anyway, it was summer during one of our 'move backs' to Stanfield, and I was like 10 and out in the park nextdoor to our house (Right next door too, our property lines met.) playing baseball with a bunch of my friends. It was actually a really fun summer, a good summer because T.P. was gone somwhere. Mushroom picking? Fishing? I don't remember, but I remember for a good bout of almost six weeks he wasn't there, and I reveled in it. When he was gone, it ment I could be a real kid, and not just someones slave or someone trying to hide out in my room to avoid having to deal with him.

But that summer, yeah..I remember, there was a whole gang of us, anywhere from five to nine of us at any time. I usally ended up being the only girl though, which was frustrating most of the time, but I didn't mind hanging out with 'the guys'. (I always end up with more guy friends then girls..what is that?) We split our time up between bad monster movies, swimming in the river, and attempting to convince each other that we were each the best damn hitters that ever lived in this dumpy town. I, was not a hitter, in fact I'm ashamed to say I was one of those kids who flinched every time a pitch was thrown. I had good reason however, I was always getting smacked with the ball. So, in a vain attempt to thwart bruises, I learned to live my life as a fielder. A very very very far outfielder fielder, as far away from the ball as I could get. It didn't work, but it was good logic on my part. I guess.

It was a really sunny day, and there were about six or seven of us and we were standing in a group arguing over something. Who was out, who wasn't, I don't remember exactly. (I'm sure whatever it was it held the fate of our game in the balance. You know how kids are.) And the park was always full of other people, usally people playing basketball or picknicking under this huge oak next to the swings, so there was always cars going by and people yelling to each other and what not. I don't ever remember feeling unsafe or uncomfortable, I (and everyone else) had lived in that town off and on for so long that I don't think any of us were really worried about anything bad happening to us. Kids don't worry about that stuff most of the time anyway, what they're doing today is more important that what could happen.

So, anyway, with all the people and cars we didn't pay attention to the blue pick-up that was going around and around the park, in fact, we didn't notice it at all. It was someone else not even involved with us who had. Standing there listening to the guys argue back and forth about stupid bases, I was getting pretty bored, and I remember looking up just in time to hear a loud 'pop' and watch someone in this pick-up that was driving by pull something in his passinger side window and speed away.

Scared the shit out of us, let me tell you.

I remember my mom, and Stephen's (Who was pitching I think) mom who lived across the street running out and asking if that was backfire. It sounded too loud to be backfire.

Whoah, I'm thinking....he shot at us!

So, some of the others piped up...they had seen the guy pull a gun in his window too. The cops were called...I don't remember talking to them, but I might have. I remember someone saying they felt something go past their face, I don't remember who that was either.

Nobody was hurt, and I don't know if they ever found the guys who did it, or if they ever had any more problems like that in the park. I do remember that it was a while before my mom would let us go galavanting around town again that summer. I don't think it dramaticly changed my views on the world, or on childhood, or on summer. It didn't traumatize me to the point I couldn't function like a normal kid. I remember lots more of that summer, and it all included alot of laughing. It just turned into one more story I've got in my big bag of stories.

I do remember being oddly mystified in that one instant though. Hell, we were just playing baseball, what would anyone shoot at us for?


I have to talk to someone about something they're doing and I really hate it when I have to do this. Why can't people just behave rationally and then I wouldn't have to bring up stuff they think I don't notice and be the bad guy.

I don't make a good bad guy! I can't ride a horse and I think spitting is icky.


I signed up for the Ornament Exchange at Miz Jenna's. I wanted to do it last year but found out about it too late...so I'm doing it this year.

You should all go over and sign up too, it should be fun.
Today I was supposed to go to some PDR/Whatever they're calling it now class, (Classes that add to my 'professional development registry' that in some obscure way I can trade in for college credits later, if I believe them that is.) I didn't go because I wasn't sure if I'd make it through the day without dying or throwing up on someones shoe. This is the second class this week I've missed because I feel like crud. The last one I ended up going, but sleeping in the car because I was misrable and couldn't see straight to do anything, let alone sit through a class.

Lucky me!

That's 7 hours I've missed out on...7 hours I really did need that I could have gotten in those two classes, and now I'm going to have to make them up by doing 5 other classes. Dang me and my tummy anyway.

So insted, I'm sitting here working on Hot Lake which I've finally gotten to actually go to the place it's actually supposed to go to. It only took me rebuying the domain so I could access it so it would point to the host. At least now the old host it was with can't hold it hostage anymore. Now I just need to get hotlake.net to do the same thing...I hope I don't have to wait till that one is up again to get it.


Look! Incoherent Babblings and it isn't even me!

I'm not delusional enough to think I'm the only person using those two words, but it's weird to actually see it.

AND that site linked to TPC! Pretty nifty.


100 Things About Me #16: I'm a closet Jones Soda Junkie.

have been since way back when, before people thought they were good just because their bottles were seen on Teeny Bopper TV shows. Jones Soda is nummy.

Not only are they great because (obviously) they make wonderful sodas in interesting flavors,(Like 'Green Apple' which I've got in my hot little hand right now, 'Blue Bubble Gum' and 'Fun/Happy' and their Jones Naturals are sooo yummy.), but they're local (Woo hoo Northwest!), reasonably priced, and they promote good stuff, like recycling and education for girls in countries where girls are normally viewed as less then.

Plus, their packaging is just plain cool. (They also have a 'My Jones' program, which lets you personalize bottles for an occasion. Very fun. No, that ah..wasn't a hint...) So if you've never tried them, I suggest you do, then you can be a closet junkie like me!
I didn't fall asleep until 6 this morning because I wasn't feeling well, so I overslept. Guess who came while I was at home sleeping? Our friendly neighborhood state!

Why, you ask? Because a lady we fired for having head lice over and over (among other things) called and said that there was head lice at this Childcare.

Yeah, there was! You had it lady!


I'm just gritting my teeth and waiting....this Preschool better work out, or I'm just going to go start working for McDonalds, because anything is better then this.


Robert delivered the goods today.

They're all piled up nice and neat in big brown boxes just begging to be pawed through right now in my hallow-sounding guestroom. (Sans bed, since that was stolen from me earlier in the week by it's former owner who decided that, almost a year later, he wanted it back. I, was just nice enough to give it to him. Well, the matress anyway, he didn't take the frame. It's resting in my garage, where empty futon frames seem more at home then in half decorated guestrooms that are slowly losing furniture.) Just resting there like little treasure boxes, filled with all sorts of goodies for me to beam and cringe over. The magic of cardboard boxes! Big, small, tall, squashed, it dosen't matter what size, what's in them, (or if you already know what's in them because they belong to you), they always have some sort of deranged draw that makes your hands itch to open them up until, with a scary cry of glee, you give in. Boxes! Oh Boxes! How I love thee! I don't even care if you send me all the junk mail of every home in the Northwest, if it's in a box. There is just something about getting that taped-to-hell package with the little dirt smear and your name on it that makes everything peachy. It's a sickness, I think.

You know, I wouldn't last a day as a mail carrier.

So...the goods. 12 lovely boxes, big boxes, nice, big, square boxes, all sitting in my guestroom. And I don't even know what's in them! Well, I know what's in them, but I don't know whats in them. See, Robert brought me all his mothers old Avon stuff (12 boxes full) because he wants to take a stab at selling them on E-bay. So right now they're sitting all nice and cozy in my house to keep wayward hands (HA!) from digging/breaking/ect. them. (I don't plan on the braking or the ect part...and I'll dig carefully!) All of the Avon stuff is from the 60's and 70's and 99.9% of it is in it's packaging still. 98.9% of it is purfume bottles...and unfortunatly (fortunatly for collectors I guess...unfortunatly for me) they also still have all the purfume in them.

My guestroom (And, the back of Robert's truck!) smells like a dead French whore.

I, however, think that -and the wonderful stabbing headache I got from just being around the unopened boxes - is a small price to pay to be able to look at goodies. For now, anyway....ask me later, after I've gone through everything and I faint and have nightmares of dying a horrible slow death at the purfume counter of Pennies.


I spent the majority of the day in a ECD/PDR class (that was boring as a trip to the glue factory) to better myself for my job and guess what I come home to? An artical in the lovely Parents 'premote fear' magazine about how Preschool (childcare providers) teachers are unqualified and abusive. This is the third such artical I've seen in there this year saying that (In the overall theme of the articals) childcare providers and preschool teachers are abusive and deplorable, and promoting fear and distrust in parents.





You know, the crap, slander, and abuse we all take for this job dosen't make it worth it. If it wasn't for the fact that I honestly like working with children enough to try opening a straight preschool, I would have run for the hills a long time ago and never looked back.

I agree that some in this profession - like all professions everywhere - aren't good for the job. But when is the media going to stop pushing fear and distrust and start telling the whole story? They've never once published a good artical about childcare or preschool. Ever. All articals might have a tad good, but it's weight out by how abusive, terrible, and unqualified we are. I'm actually half thinking about writing and telling them how disapointed and tired I am of the media, the parents and the goverment putting me and my profession down.

But, since I'm just a childcare provider/preschool teacher I bet they won't listen to me. After all, a child abuser wouldn't tell the truth.


100 Things About Me: #33 I do face painting.

I've decided to throw these out randomly, that way, I have something to post for 100 days!

I picked up a box of face paints about two years ago, and have been doing it anywhere from every day to six times a month at the least since. I like it, and I'm actually kind of good at it. People seem to like it too (It's the little things I guess), it's even gotten to the point that my siblings friends come over and ask me to 'Paint them'. In fact, there is a plot going around to get me to paint faces on picture day...unfortunatly for them, I'm not going to. (I think parents would be angry. I think it would be kewl...but when you weigh the two against each other, screaming angry parents win out.)

Someday I'll get a decent digital camera and show off some of my face painting. I'm not great, and I'm still learning, but I love to practice on anybody who will sit still. (Or anyone who will let me hit them with my brushes to get them to sit still.)

If you've ever wanted to try it (I say do it, just get yourself some paints and start stalking victims!) I will happily share Jamie's Tips For Attempting Decent Face Painting with you. Ready? Good.

1. Don't Worry. Seriously. Don't worry that you won't be good enough, that you don't have any talent, that you just got paint in somebodies hair. (Well, try and avoid that one...even if it does wash out.) Just relax and have fun. Don't worry if you mess up either, it's just paint.

2. Esperament (That's 'experiment' in kiddie speak) If you get an idea, run with it. Don't be afraid to use body glitter, sticky rhinestones, stuff to make textures...anything goes. You don't have to do it on the face either, arms, hands, legs, feet, neck, back...um..other places that are rated appropriate for the crowd you're doing works good too. Oh yeah, we were speaking of other things to use before? That takes us to tip #3.

3. Thrifty isn't a bad thing Face Painting supplies can get expensive, especally for the little bits and peices you'll end up using alot. There are a great many face paint companies that will shoot me for this tip, but it's true. Alot of them offer rhinestones and loose glitter for face painters, but unfortunatly some of them charge over the limit amounts for something that's exactly the same as the other on the market. These rhinestones and glitter are the same rhinestones and glitter avalible in places like Clares and Wal-Mart that are for sold for body decorations and they are avalible at half the cost. So insted of buying through a face paint place, get your body glitter at Clares, or order your rhinestones in bulk from U.S. Toy company, who sells them in packages of 144 for 5 bucks. U.S. Toy Co also sells those neat body rhinestone tattoos in bulk. Great for adding an extra something to a design.

4. Use Decent Paint. You don't have to get the most expensive, but make sure you get FDA approved paint that is of some good quality. Bad paint is just plain bad. It cracks, chips, runs, and can irritate skin. Plus, your work will look better with a paint that isn't yucky.

5. Use Tons of Brushes & Sponges. Brushes are good, sponges are good too. Try and swing it so you have one brush for every pot of paint. I know it turns into a whole bunch of brushes, but the extra washing at the end of the day is MUCH better then painting with poo water...which brings us to 6.

6. DON'T USE POO WATER! Poo water, as it's so nicely named by someone I know, is when your water turns that lovely brown color from your brush and paints. Using a brush for each color (or color range) will stop this because you won't have to rinse your brush out, ever. Just dip your brush in a tiny bit to get water you need, and you'll stop the poo problem. Becides looking bad, (and making you look bad!) poo water will also change the colors of the paint on your brush and in the pot, causing you a lovely time of wiping off the top of your paints to get rid of that brownish stain from the water. Bad, don't do it!

7. Surf The Net. There are a huge amount of face painting websites out there. (who knew?) All of them usally offer photo albumbs of painting they've done. Trust me, if you surf these you'll get all sorts of great ideas (and hints, tips and walkthroughs) and you won't have to buy a book or video. Not, that books and videos are bad.

8. Practice on anybody you can get your hands on. Over, and over and over until they hate you, face painting and everything associated with it. You'll lose some friends, but will be a better painter for it. You can also print off (from some websites) drawn faces of kids to practice on...it's not the same, but it'll help you get certain strokes down.

9. If you charge, charge what you're worth. I don't charge because I don't do it at shows or anything (I've thought about it, but haven't) If you DO charge, set your OWN limit before hand and don't make anyone tell you different. Charge what you're worth, because it's your time and your talent and because you're worth it, damnit. Don't make me beat you.

10. Make a kit. Keep all your face painting stuff in a kit. You can use a good sized tackle box, they work well. It helps keep all your junk in one spot, and it makes it easier for you to work. Some stuff to keep in it? Wet naps, extra brushes and sponges (Again, bulk makeup brushes work just as good as any!), paint (of course), glitter, rhinestones, texture stuff (rice, beans, sand), a mirror, business cards (if you do that sort of face painting), and whatever else you feel the need to huff around with you.

11. Clip the kids. If you decide to make a face painting kit (I've got one...sorta!) then keep some good hairclips in there, so you can clip hair away from the faces of the bra..kids...you're working on. Nothing makes you more frustrated then a good face ruined by hair!

12. Be polite but firm if you charge, or even if you don't, make sure you're polite to people you're painting, but don't let them walk on you! Make sure they know they have to sit still (and if they don't, don't paint them), make them stand in line if you need (And make sure you let people know when you're going to be done, and don't waiver from it...when you're done, be done!), and make sure that both you and the person you're painting are clear with knowing what is wanted...and if they change their mind, just hit them a few times, they'll change it back.

12. Ask If you need help, ask...me, someone else who does it, someone on the net. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm pretty sure I don't bite.

There, those are my tips (so far) that I have to offer. So, if you're in a craft store and see a box of face paint, pick it up, cause it's kind of fun, and you never know...you might like it. (gasp..lol...I'm such a geek..)


13 million American children (Over 28 million Americans total) go hungry every year in the United States because their families can't afford food.

Show that you really care about your countrymen. Show that you're a real patriot, and do something about it.

Because it's hard be a great country, when the people in our country are going hungry.


Keep your fingers crossed ok? We've been given the go ahead to rent an entire self-sustaining building and convert it into a preschool. (The building includes parking AND a huge lot of land) Now, between starting our normal preschool program here, not feeling very well, all the everything online I do, I'm also in the stages of setting up proposals and working on getting this moving, and it is a huge move.

This is awesome just the same, for many reasons....read on:

Reasons Why Jamie Wants To Open A Preschool Somewhere Else:

1: It will be somewhere else, and it's a self contained building, including an upstairs, two bathrooms and a kitchen.

2. We won't be doing any more childcare, just 31/2 hour preschool classes (Two classes every day, 2 - 3 year olds 2 days a week and 3 - 4 year olds 3 days a week).

3. No more childcare.

4. No more childcare! It means no more diapers, no more BS from parents, no more showing up when they shouldn't...none.

5. No more state. Preschools aren't concitered childcare, therefore aren't regulated by a single state agency that's harassed us in the last five years.

6. It has the potental to bring in a huge sum of money. (Money is good) More then we're making now, because people think 'preschool' deserves more money then 'childcare' does. Which is stupid, but true.

7. I get to fingerpaint even more.

8. It's right next door to my college.

Yes, this could make me very very happy. Right now we have a tentitive schedualed reopening date of January 5th. That leaves a major amount of work to do between then and now. I think it'll be worth it though. The first thing we have to do? Think of a name...any suggestions?
Either the poor person chained to the wall in the basement of Jane Magazine who licks the address lables and keeps the subscribers in order has messed up, or someone hates me (or thinks I need it) and keeps resubscribing me and paying for it, but I keep getting Jane magazine.

I've been getting it for over a year now.

Perhaps I sleepwalked and I subscribed myself, but I doubt it. Regardless, I now have this magazine coming to my house once a month. Goodie for me.

Now, I'm not saying it's bad (awful, trash, drivvle) because I'm sure someone out there likes it. Every once in a while I like something in it too, but it is deffinatly not something I'd pay (a dime! cough) for. I don't care who the biggest hollywood sex fiend is, or tips to make my hair more sexy, or what the worst insult someone heard about makeup ever was.

Between the downtown department store purfume counter like smell that permeates the air the momment you open the bag (it comes in a bag, why you ask? To keep all the advertisments in, because you know you'll weep if the latest advert for 'Chanel' or 'Glamour' falls out on to the street and gets footie prints on it's holy surface.) thanks to the 30 some odd samples stuffed inside like an overdone thanksgiving turkey, and the aforementioned in the ()'s advertisments for everything from sanitary napkins to 'J-Lo's scent', I feel like I'm stuck in some scary Tommy-Girl billboard riddled world and can't get out.

Yes, I admit, every once in a while something slightly amusing is inside, but deep down I just can't bring myself to justify that it makes it worth the money.

Oh well, at least I have extra litter box liner now.