Apparently Texting is one of Life's Essentials

      Yesterday I was pretending to try to munch on my daughter's fingers which had her laughing hysterically. With a pretend pout I asked her why she wouldn't let me have just one little finger to snack on.  Her response?  Because when she is big enough to have a cell phone she won't be able to text! Of all the reasons to not want to give up a thumb!  Too funny..........

My New Year's Resolution

I don' usually do a new year resolution. But this year I'm changing that. Oh! I'm not promising to have one from now on, but this year, I have one.
  For Christmas I wanted to make my son a scrapbook with pictures we took of him on his birthday aboard a pirate cruise. I wanted to write it out like a children's story book starring him.  To do this though I had to first find the pictures.  I have a big black box I bought from a friend when she decided that selling Creative Memories would solve her financial woes (she doesn't sell it anymore) but this big box holds a couple thousand pictures - and I had this thing full.  While looking for the pirate pictures I found my baby pictures and the pirate pictures and everything in between.  Why have all these pictures if I'm just going to leave them in this box?  I got a paper bag and I dumped the box on my bed.  People, I looked at every last one of those photos! Some of them had been given to me by relatives and I had just tossed them in and had never actually looked at them.  Boy was that an emotional trip down memory lane.  Anyway, I tossed bad photos (remember film when you didn't know what you were gonna get??) and copies (I'm ashamed to admit how many times I must have double ordered double prints) and anything where I have multiple shots of the same thing (Do I really need 11 pictures of my son smiling at me from the bouncy seat in the same outfit?? I think not.) I tossed almost half that box. Then I went and bought myself a big album, just the kind you slide pictures into and I filled it with my pictures from my parents wedding picture to the day before I met my husband.  I organized everything left in the box so I can frame or scrap book it in the future and then I actually did get that book made for my son.
      But that was all before Christmas and leads to my New Year's Resolution.  I'm going to go through the pictures on my computer.  Yeah, this is worse than the box.  I never empty my memory chips so every time I hook my camera up it re-copies every picture onto my computer. The file labeled Halloween pics has everything from my sister's wedding two years ago to, well, Halloween. And every file is like that. Plus, pics that have been e-mailed to me or file shared, or, well, however it got there. The point is there are pics in the five digit range on my computer. I'm going through them, erasing duplicates ( How did I end up of 22 copies of the picture of the back of my head that my husband accidentally took that I thought I deleted off the camera???) getting them into the right file, deleting bad ones (see above mentioned picture). My hope is that by the end of the year, I'll have more of these printed and I'll have actually done something with them.  It's a lofty goal. But these are our memories, this is the story of our life. We only get one and I don't want to forget where we have been and the moments we have shared. But mostly, I don't want to be sitting here in another five years with an even BIGGER mess on my hands - better to start tackling this now.....

Mishap in Isle 4.....

I found myself in the grocery store last night standing in front of the hamburger helper section with a blank look on my face because my head hurt and I was tired and I did not want to make dinner. Of course this is where two people I know found me (why not in front of the gourmet baking isle??).  The first person who noticed me is not someone I know well or have even seen recently. I couldn't even remember her name but I was pretty sure I knew where I knew her from.  She jumped right into a nice long discussion about what she had been up to and her preparations for Christmas. Thinking she was one of the mothers from scouts I asked her if she had been to the tree lot yet (we are all taking turns volunteering there to raise money). The questioning look on her face made me realize I obviously didn't know her from scouts.  I quickly re-worded my question into a very generic one - something like " Have you gotten a tree yet?" while my mind raced to place her. Finally she made a reference to football (her son played on the same team as my son. There it is!).  The conversation went pretty seamlessly from there. Ugh but that was frustrating and I felt like a fool for not fully remembering her.  I wonder how obvious it was that I couldn't place her? Probably pretty obvious. An actual light most likely went off behind my eyes giving me away.  I know there have been times when I have talked to someone and I know she did not remember who I was.  I know there have been times when I have had no clue who someone is and I'm pretty sure I pulled it off too.  There's been times when I've just had to flat out ask, "who are you?" I feel like if someone has bothered to remember who I am I should be able to give them the same courtesy. Thank goodness the second person who came upon me was someone I know fairly well so my aching brain did not have to repeat the whole process. Though, on the other hand, the first woman saw me greet the other person and probably noticed the difference between that and how I greeted her...............ugh, my head hurts again..............   
                   So, what is the protocol when someone you vaguely remember starts talking to you like you are old friends?

Not the only broken light bulb.......

We set up the Christmas tree last night.  We got the thing standing and all plugged in and noticed that half a strand of lights were out. Anyone who has ever been in this situation knows that this means we have to go bulb by bulb to find out which one is out.  I get this brilliant idea that Hubby and I should each start on an end and work our way towards each other. So we sit down around the tree, each with a new bulb in hand and get to work. 
          We'd been sitting there for about five minutes when Hubby says from behind the tree, "Is your bulb in?".
          I tell him no and start to move on (5,4,3,2,1 and - ) "Oh My Gosh!!!" I gasp
          
          We could have past it if one of us had our bulb out while the other was trying the new one! How could we (yes, we. It was my idea but he went along with it gosh darn it!) not have thought of that??  Hubby decides we should just carry on but this time (I hate when he is smarter than me) we should make sure all bulbs are in at the same time. 
           So we continue on, testing each light, circling the tree on our butts when I hear him again from the other side, "Well, we are stupid. We should have just taken a glance at everything first." 
           "What? Why?" I'm afraid to hear the answer......
           "Because it's pretty obvious which one it out," He informs me. "This bulb is blown; completely shattered. Look." He hands me the broken little light. Yup, that would have been pretty noticeable if we had looked for it. 
            Stupid, stupid, stupid.  All I can say in our defense is.............ah..................ugh. I have nothing. 

      

      We called the kids back and and finished decorating the tree. As I looked on at the beautiful (fully lit) tree I thought of one thing to be grateful for; Thank goodness the kids were all still little and distracted by a Christmas movie while we blundered through that. Could you imagine how different that scenario would have been if we'd had three teenagers looking on??? (shudder)

Baby's don't just cause big tummies....

My sister is pregnant with her first child. She is about four months along and barely showing. She came here to have Thanksgiving with us and my five year old daughter was very excited to see her pregnant Aunt.  A few days into the visit I'm in the bathroom with my daughter brushing hair and this is the conversation that we have.

Her: I'm so happy for Aunty
Me: Why's that?
Her: Because she hasn't gotten big yet. But soon her tummy is going to get really big.
Me: Yep, that's true
Her: And her hips will get big and her butt will get big and then she'll know it's time to have that baby.
Me: choking on laughter....
Her: Then I really hope she gets to go back to her normal size. - for her I hope that.
Me: Wait, what????
Her: (with a look like I should know this stuff) Some mommy's still have big tummy's and hips and butts even after they have babies. I know. I've seen them.
Me: Well, that's true but I think you are right, I think Aunty will go back to her original size. 

We've never talked about people's size before.  I knew she had probably noticed that some are larger than others (it is the age for it after all) but for her to put it like that just cracked me up! Big hips?? Geesh!

Entering the Divorce Stage of Life

                It seems that I have reached that age where friends are no longer getting married but rather getting divorced.  It makes me quite sad and also causes me to feel a little guilty for being so happily married myself. I am also finding that most phone calls with friends are only about their respective divorces and never about any of my news.  The amount of times I have been told recently that this is "just between you and me and don't tell ANYBODY" is astounding.  What I want to do is tell all these people to try to make it work, stick out this rough patch, don't give up! But I know that a) no one will listen and b) that might not even be the right answer. 
              With all these friends going through this right now I find that my own life is altering. Couples night is out. Suddenly, Hubby  gets nervous at the mention of girls night because my friends are now trying to meet guys. Calling a girlfriend to vent is no longer an option as I will end up not getting to speak a word while they sob on the other end.  I feel terrible for them, these housewives forced back out into the world they have forgotten about by men they trusted to take care of them.  It terrifies me a little bit too. Not all these women saw it coming. Some, in fact, were caught completely off guard. Like my girlfriend who asked her husband on Father's Day what he wanted as a gift and he said a divorce. I wonder if there is a divorce lurking in my future that I cannot yet see. I wonder if my time is coming when Hubby will drop this bomb on me.  I don't think my life is heading that direction even remotely, but then, I wouldn't have been the only one so fully fooled. 
              I know the statistics, I see the numbers. More than half of all marriages end in divorce. I guess it is just different when it is happening around you to people you know and not just a number in the news. Hubby and I have been close to divorce before but somehow we've always managed to drag our mangled bodies out of the war zone and patch things up. Honestly, I think we are better people for it; we are definitely closer for it.  I want to tell everyone that they too can make it work, but I'm not that naive.  Instead, I am a silent confidant for those who need one; there are no words I can speak that will help them through this. It is their own journey. Instead of offering worthless advice to greived friends I plant a longer kiss on Hubby as he walks in the door. I snuggle closer at night. I bite my tounge on little critiques. There is no reset on life. I only get one shot to make this marriage work.  I wish the best to all these people - to anyone having to go through this heartache.

A Series of Mini Stories

   November has been crazy. We flew to Disney World, I flew to Minnesota and then drove to Minot North Dakota for my sister's wedding. I then drove back home with my sister and new brother-in-law because they were joining us for Thanksgiving. We spent two days cooking for the big day and had a wonderful time. Kids went back to school today and I am finally getting a chance to sit down here and write something. With so much having happened I have no idea where to start. So, I am going to tell a series of mini stories. Here goes.

The Long Walk 
I am in Milwaukee on a layover. All I have with me is a carry-on bag and my purse. I am wearing these ridiculously gorgeous and impractical boots because they won't fit into my bag.  I'm starving but I figure if I can at least get a coffee I will be okay. So, dragging my bag I start trekking up the ramp in these high heeled boots. I walk down two corridors before I finally find a place that sells coffee. I order, I wait, I pick up my steaming cup and walk back to my gate.  This entire process has taken me twenty minutes. I put the cup to my mouth and take a satisfying sip.............this is not what I ordered.

The Boot Exchange
There are six girls in my family and none of us share a shoe size. My youngest sister did not have a pair of boots to match her dress for the wedding so I had brought along an extra pair of boots (a big reason why I got stuck wearing mine through the airport). These boots were too big for me but too small for her so another sister wore my boots and gave hers to our baby sister.  It worked out great for the big day but there was quite a scramble to get all the boots back to their owners after the reception.  Having sisters is fun!

The Wedding Cake 
As with most things, when information passes through multiple hands it tends to get distorted. This must have been the case with the wedding cake because I can think of no other reason why, when the cake arrived, we were looking at a bright yellow cake with baby blue ribbons and black dots. Our initial response was to try to make it work and take cake pictures in black and white. But with one look at my sister's face I knew we had to take more drastic action. Thankfully, five phone calls later we were heading off to the ceremony with the understanding that a cake would be ready for us on time.  As soon as the ceremony was over the step-father of the groom rushed to the store to pick up the cake and I rushed to the reception hall to hide the old cake and have the place unlocked and ready for the new cake.  Luckily the new cake was all the right colors, a soft cream with teal ribbing and silver beads. And the rest of the evening went off without a hitch.

The Ceremony
We are not catholic. My sister's fiance's family is Catholic Orthodox. So throughout the service there is all this chant and response going on and we have no idea what to say or when to say it.  My sister and I are about to fall over in our high heels (I was the Maid of Honor) if the service took much longer when suddenly the Priest starts off on a rant about marriage in the news. The look of alarm on my sisters face was almost enough to make me stuff a doily in the old guys mouth but thankfully he stopped after a few painful minutes.  There are a lot (and I do mean A LOT) of symbolic steps that go into a Catholic Orthodox wedding. I do not recommend ever going to one.  My poor sister looked like she wished she wasn't there either. But, when one side takes it that seriously I guess you just need to comply. 

Road Trip 
I love road trips so I was looking forward to this one with my sister and new brother-in-law.  We had great conversations and debates, my sister and I napped frequently.  We drove through Chicago and Cleveland. All in all it was a really good trip. Except for one thing......My Husband is a speeder, not by a lot but you can pretty much bet he is going nine over the speed limit at all times. My new brother in law goes exactly the speed limit or even a little under. Sitting in the back seat watching the minutes add themselves to our arrival time on the GPS was near torture.  Every once in a while I offered to drive but (I guess it's a guy thing) he was determined to do the whole trip himself. He's a good driver, very smooth. By the last few hours of the trip I was ready to knock him out and stuff him in the back just so I could speed things up.  It didn't help when we realized that his GPS did not account for time change and we actually had an hour longer to go than we thought.  But.....we made it. Without anybody getting knocked out. 

Thanksgiving
I'm all about home cooked so I spent two days in the kitchen making two pumpkin pies, two apple pies, sweet potatoes, cookies, cheese ball, mini hot dogs is secret sauce, greenbean casserole, stuffing, a 20lb turkey, gravy,  cranberry mold and more. By the time we sat down to eat I was exhausted and barely ate a plate of food. I didn't mind though. I figured even with three men and two boys in the house there would be leftovers and I could eat more later.  Uhm, yeah, I was wrong on that one.  There was barely enough left for one serving of everything. But before I could get to it Hubby snatched it all up.  I feel like I missed out on Thanksgiving. But I learned my lesson. On Christmas Eve I'm hiding a plate of food for myself.  Can't fool me twice!

Caught Looking Goofy

         It's that time of year again.  School pictures are coming home and I get to see just how goofy my kids managed to look this year.  I have many of my own school pictures and most of them should be burned - they are soooo embarressing. Big plastic blue glasses, a bad hair cut, aweful clothes......  I have some of Hubby's too; let me tell you, when I first looked at both of ours I was a little concerned about what our kids would look like.
        Thankfully, we made pretty cute kids.  But cute kids can make weird faces as good as the rest of them.  I can't tell you how many pictures I can't use because one of the three of them is making a face.  Well, there was also that period where my oldest tried to look all gangster in every photo and ended up looking like he had no control over his limbs and was in pain - but we won't go there.
         I get handed the first envelope and with a deep breath I open it up. Wonder of Wonders! It is the best picture I've ever seen of my youngest son! He looks positively angelic! I am so thrilled!  With a lighter heart I open the second envelope. And........ there it is. Chin down, eyebrows raised, biting his top lip and crinkling his chin. My oldest's pictures are not going to be able to be passed around. Thank goodness for re-takes.
        I haven't seen my daughter's yet...........I hope she wasn't caught looking goofy.

Spent the Week in Disney World

      We just got back from Disney World.......Wow! What a fun time.  We have been before and each time we have such a good time and have new adventures. It truly is its own world.

      When you do a repeat activity like this it is easy to see how your children have changed.  My oldest didn't want to get pictures with any characters this year and when Drizzella (Cinderella's evil step-sister) kissed him on the cheek and left lipstick behind he had his hoody up to hide his face and was looking for the nearest bathroom to wash it off! Last year my middle son barely made the 48in height requirement for the biggest rides and was always getting measured. This year they didn't even glance at him as he walked by. He also pushed the stroller for most of the trip (such a sweetheart!).  My five year old daughter was so excited to see the characters and talk to everybody.  But then she noticed that during the fireworks Tinkerbell is on a zip line and not actually flying.   And then she noticed feet under the snowman's costume.  She felt so tricked and betrayed! This is all such a difference from not just our first visit but our trip just last year as well. 

        But enough about them and on to me! (hehe).  We had the dining plan in Disney which means TONS of delicious food.  I really waned to eat it all but there was just no way I could.  For one thing it hurt my

 stomach to even look at all that food but also I knew all too well that the pounds would be more than happy to attach themselves. I drank sugar free ice tea or water, avoided the fries and fried food and always left food on my plate.  Hubby on the other hand was eating all his food plus some of mine and the kids while drinking milkshakes and eating dessert.  

Yesterday morning was the moment of truth. I stepped on the scale.  Even with all that walking and never finishing my meals I still gained 2 1/2 lbs.  Hubby, well,  he lost four. Aaaaaaarrrrrrgggggg!!!!!! I could have killed him dead right there! How is that fair at all?!?!?!? Why oh why does he get to LOOSE FOUR POUNDS and I gain two and a half???????. I ate less,  I took more steps with my shorter legs, I carried the backpack. It doesn't add up! Men suck. That's all there is to it.

On Empty

       My phone rang. It was a girlfriend of mine. "You're never going to believe this" she says "I ran out of gas across the street from you."
       She wanted to come sit with me until AAA could get to her but I had a can of gas in the garage, "Just sit tight for a sec" I tell her.  
        I grabbed my umbrella (Did I mention it was raining?) and went to the garage.  As I crossed the street a patrol car pulled up to the light. He sees me, umbrella in one hand, huge gas can in the other.  I get to my friends can just as the patrol car makes his turn and drives past us. Yup, past, as in didn't stop. We get the safety valve on the can open and start adding gas to her tank when a SUV pulls up and out pops another friend of mine.  She had seen me and wanted to make sure I wasn't the one needing help. Thankfully she had an umbrella because in order to hold the gas can I'd had to put mine down.  So now there are three ladies standing in the road filling up a tank.  One is holding the safety valve open, I'm tilting the can up and the other is holding the umbrella. A pick-up goes by and we hear two men laughing through the open slit of their window.  Nice. I'm sure we were a sight, wet hair sticking to our faces, none of us wearing anything warm enough to be out there, obviously ran the tank too long on empty. We have no idea how much gas is getting into the tank or how much she even needs before it will start again so we decide to check what the dash board says.  To do this we stop filling, take the can to the curb and wait. Nothing. So back we go, fingers freezing, trying to re-open the safety valve and add more gas. We are the perfect cliche of ditsy women.  Second time is the charm and she is able to get the car started. We say our goodbyes, I retrieve my umbrella, pick up my now lighter gas can and walk back home. I'm cold, I'm wet, my just washed and styled hair is a mess, I got laughed at. Being a friend is hard sometimes. Being a good friend can be a full time job sometimes. I am so glad I have friends that know they can count on me and friends that will stop in the rain when they see me on the side of the road.  I'm so glad I have friends I don't need to keep score with. This friend of mine? The one who ran out of gas? She takes care of me too.  She's driving me to the Airport in a few weeks and then picking my kids up from school.  Stand in the rain for her? You bet I will!

"To Fat for Prom"

            I  hate shopping. I hate HATE shopping - unless it's for shoes (but that's another story).  It started when I was a kid and my mom would list all the types of clothes I was too fat for. I was taller and thicker than most kids my age but I wasn't even chubby.  It got worse as I got older and got into high school.  I was too "fat" for a two piece bathing suit and too "fat" to go to prom.  I was too fat for skirts and dresses with belts and shorts......The thing was, I wasn't.  I was 5'4" 138lbs and a size 8.  My mother would sigh and say, "At least you have baby making hips. Some guy is really going to appreciate that about you and you guys will have tons of babies." That is such a mean thing to tell a young girl barely into puberty!  I've grown a little since then and I've lost 20lbs. I now wear a size 2 or a 4 depending on the store.  Shopping should be fun now but it's not.
       
             My sister is getting married so I need a new dress.  Hubby kept the kids and I took the day to go to the mall.  I was afraid to try on dresses that might make my legs look chunky or that would make my hips look too big. I was afraid to try on dresses that would flare at the waist.  I spent four and a half hours shopping, I only tried on three dresses and I hated how I looked in all of them.  By the time I got home I was depressed, stressed and had a raging headache.  I told Hubby I'm just wearing my black dress that I've had for years and that I feel comfortable in (but I'm getting new boots to wear with it!). 

            It shouldn't still be like this. I know I'm thin. When I wear clothes I already own I feel great; but, when I go shopping, I suddenly fall back into the same feelings I had as a kid and I hear my mothers voice in my head again.  The logic is all there: she was wrong then, it certainly isn't true now yet, I can't shake it.  Hubby wants to take me dress shopping (I usually only clothes shop if he takes/makes me).  He shouldn't have to make me shop (seriously, how twisted is this?)

            I'm working on getting over this. I can't undo the hurt that was done to me but I can make sure not to repeat it.  I'm working on not doing this to my own daughter.  I will always tell her how beautiful she is - even when her body is changing from a little girl's to an awkward teen's. I will always tell her how amazing she is no matter her size or shape.  I will always tell her how pretty I think I am and let her see my self confidence.  I want her to LOVE to shop - because she knows how great her own unique body is.

Cutting Faces

Halloween is this weekend. The kids are very excited. The front of our house is all decorated and last night it was finally time to carve the pumpkins.  When I was a new mom I did the pumpkin by myself. Hubby didn't want to help and the baby couldn't. For the first three years this is how it was. Then the boys started to be old enough and instead of the mess of trying to carve with them I let them paint pumpkins instead.  They never looked like faces, just like globs of black paint from too many colors being mixed together and smeared everywhere.  Two years ago we didn't get big pumpkins we got three little ones. They all painted their little pumpkins and for the first time they actually had discernible faces.  Last year with all the moving going on we bought one big pumpkin but never actually carved it.  This year we went to a farm and picked our pumpkins ourselves.  Last night we all worked together like a well oiled machine each taking a part in the process. I cut off the tops, Hubby scooped and the kids designed faces (that I carved to their exact specifications), We knocked them out really quickly.  It was so much fun and so stress free. It was yet another reminder that time is passing and my babies are growing up before my eyes.  The era of paint slapped onto a pumpkin with little hands is gone. The era of having to do it all myself has come to an end. As much as it annoyed me to display pumpkins that looked diseased, I miss that time. When Halloween meant I had holiday coloring pages covering every spare space of wall and the scariest thing they wanted to be was a lion or a police man. I have no coloring pictures and my ceramic ghosts go un-played with this year. I will be taking a vampire, a zombie and Boba Fett out this weekend. This year my home has three jack-o-lanterns that look amazing.  As cool as they are, they annoy me.  They are a glowing reminder of what I have lost forever. A little poke to the heart that I may not have enjoyed that time as much as I could have.  I feel this overwhelming desire to hit rewind or at least pause so I can keep them younger just a little bit longer. I love these guys. I know it, they know it. It's just a little weird to feel it so strongly while cutting faces.

They are among us.......

Many people think superheroes don't exist.  These people are wrong. Super Heroes are amung us. I am living proof. I am a superhero.

I have speed. I am able to clean, do laundry, rake, walk dogs, etc and yet still pull a sheet of homemade cut out sugar cookies out of the oven as the kids walk in the door for them to ice for Halloween all before I start dinner.

I have healing powers.  A splinter, a scratch, a scraped knee? These have no power against me.  With a gentle touch, a band-aid and a kiss I can heal.

I can read minds. I know if a playroom wasn't cleaned just by looking at their face. I know if home work was left undone without having to ask. I know if someone was picking a fight with a sibling.  I know. I can read minds.

Some of you may argue that I'm just a mom. I disagree. Just as Spider Man's body was altered on a DNA level, mine was as well. This anomoly is called pregnancy. I did not have these powers before that strange event. The truth is -  I Am ~ A Super Hero! The truth is, some of you may be super heroes too...............

Come Home and Stay

I have two dogs. My female is four years old, 45lbs and the sweetest dog anyone could ever hope for. My male will be one this winter and though he is a puppy with all that that implies he is a sweetheart and we love him.  The female is "my" dog and the pup is my husbands. This was not by design but rather by the dogs choosing. 
Titonius is suppose to be 25lbs but he is only 15lbs. I don't know why but I've nicknamed him Boo much to Hubby's dismay. He is a boy-boy. Loves to fight, play and run. He throws the ball for himself and will threaten anyone who dares come to our door. He has recently gotten the hang of the school bus hours. 10 - 15 minutes before the bus shows up he is looking out the window for it. Once the boys start to leave he begs them not to go and then runs from window to door for a good 20 minutes hoping they are coming right back. Then the pre-k bus comes and we go through all this again ending with a walk through the house wimpering. And when it is time for that bus to bring the boys home in the afternoon? He is at the window a half hour prior wining at any bus that passes. He is so excited everytime they walk through that door. Dogs are smart creatures and it is so cool to watch him look for that bus KNOWING it is coming. Thank you for loving our boys Titon.

Princess is a girl all-the-way. My daughter can put bracelets, hairbands and necklaces on her and she likes it! She would rather hang with the girls than rough house with the boys. She even likes to get her claws painted. As much as she loves playing with my daughter she is MY dog.

Last night my little girl wanted Princess to sleep with her. Normally Princess is where ever I am so I wasn't sure how this would work but I told her to get on the bed. My little girl wrapped her arms around Princess' neck and settled in for sleep. Princess was fine with this until she realized that I was leaving the room. With a hand on her side I asked her to STAY. She wasn't happy but she did it and she didn't move until two hours later when Hubby and I were getting ready for bed. He called the dogs to go outside one last time. Princess didn't come but I heard her whimper. I went up to the room, she was waiting for me to tell her she could leave and go outside.  This made my eyes well up. Knowing that my girl loves me so much is pretty special but knowing that she will stay by my children if I need her to is a much more powerful gift. Thank you Princess for all you give me.

I'm 5. No Really I Am

My youngest child, my daughter, just turned five.  For her birthday we took her out to eat. While there she and I made a trip to the washroom. My daughter is very happy to be five. She thinks she is soooooo BIG! And discussing her age in the washroom prompts a question; How old am I?

I tell her since I think I'm still pretty young - I'm still in my twenties after all. She, on the other hand, is SHOCKED by my "oldness". She thinks I must be making it up. Our conversation goes like this:

"No you're not. You can't be. That's so OLD!"
"I really am. And, that's not that old."
"Well, maybe you're not that old. Maybe your eight. Eight is old."
"I'm not eight. Your brother is eight. I can't be the same age as my son."
"You should tell people you are eight. Don't tell them you are so old. It's kind of, uhm, gross."
"I'm not telling people I'm eight."
"I don't have a sister. You should be my sister. Tell people you are five like me. They will think we are  sisters."
"FIVE!?!?"
(In a sing-song voice) "sista-as"
"Sure. I'll tell people I'm five. They'll believe it."
"Say it. Say sista-as."
"Sista-as"
"Yup. We are sisters and we are both five. Come on. Let's go tell people."
Back at the table.....
(To Hubby) "Daddy. Mommy is now my sister. We are both five."
(Hubby to me. With a very shocked look) "Really? You're five now, huh?"
(Daughter to waitress) "My Mom is my sister. We are both five."
Waitress does not look convinced. Actually, she looks a little worried.
I just smile sweetly.

I'm five. No really. I am.

Shotgun in hand............

I'm afraid to knock on my neighbor's doors.  I know they are waiting for me shotgun in hand.  They know why I am knocking. I want their money, every last dollar I can wring from them.  I will take it all with a smile on my face trying to convince them they want me to have it. It's fundraiser time.

The football and cheerleaders are selling raffle tickets (this means I have to sell twice as many). The cub scouts are selling popcorn tins (Again, I have two in scouts).  The school sent them home telling them to get pledges for sports day (that's three kids needing pledges) and, this means I don't even have anything to give to these poor people! Dance is selling candles. It doesn't end!  

I don't want to go to the store for fear I will see a familiar face ducking down the cereal isle. I walk my dogs with head bowed as neighbors peak behind curtains with baited breathe praying I'll pass.  My texts asking to meet for a coffee go unanswered - they think it a ploy. 

I can't really blame them. I'd avoid me too. I'm done. I quit. When it comes to fundraising I will never be the "perfect" mom and my kids will never win a prize for most earned. But I might need to put out a white flag announcing my surrender, my withdrawal from the fundraiser race. Because the next time I need to borrow an egg I don't want to be met by a suspicious neighbor, shotgun in hand...........

Let's Face It, You're A Little Doughy

          We were sitting on the couch yesterday evening prior to going to the gym and we were talking about Hubby changing up his workout. Our daughter who was in the room turns to Hubby and says, "Let's face it, you're a little doughy." This just cracked me up much to the dismay of Hubby. The truth is, he isn't. He is a very solid 235lbs.  He's not extremely cut up but even through a shirt you can see he is all muscle. I discovered later that it was a line from the Hannah Montana show.  This isn't the first time she has thrown lines from a show at us. And each time it seems to be a perfect fit to the situation.  Last spring when my allergies were bad she told me, "zip it drippy, no one cares" (also a line from Hannah Montana).  For the amount of TV shows on we don't let them watch all that many, Wizards of Waverly Place, Phineas and Ferb, Hannah Montana, Sweet Life on Deck and Scooby-Doo about sum it up. I confess to being a fan of Wizards and Phineas and Ferb myself.  We are so busy that they don't watch these all that often yet it apears that when we do it is making an impression. Enough of one at least for her to remember lines and use them in the correct context later on.  It makes me wonder just how much kids are picking up from TV and video games and, well, life.

My Secret Love

I sleep, I dream, I hear a tinkling of bells. My alarm on my cell phone has just gone off. It is set to go off every weekday so I never have to worry that I forgot to reset it.  As I open my eyes and stretch my phone bings. My daily weather update has just arrived. I'm still under the covers but I know exactly what the temperature is outside.  As I get the children ready for their buses my phone jingles. Cub scout updates and practice updates have just come in.  I text my girlfriend to see what time she will be arriving at the gym.  As the kids leave on the bus I grab my Ipod and head for the gym.  When I get home I log on to my library's website and request a hold on a book that a friend just recommended. My sister and I IM back and forth making plans for the evening.  I'm meeting her at a place I've never been before. My kids bus is running late and the show they love is starting but there are no worries. It is automatically DVRing so they can start it from the beginning when they get here.  I send out e-mails about my daughter's birthday and I google pictures of cakes to get some good ideas of how to make hers.  My sister in the Dakotas sends me a picture via text of the wedding dress she is thinking of buying. I can give her instant input from across the country.  Time to leave to meet my sister; I put the address into my GPS and head out.  While driving I listened to my favorite radio shows on my Sirius Radio without a care in the world because a lovely english woman is going to tell me when I need to start looking for my exit. I love technology. We are inseperateable. I know people survived forever without it. I don't ever want to have to do it though.  I love my back up camera on my van and the website I use for recipies. I love automated reminders and information at my fingure tips. I love it all.
Just for fun, here's a list of things my kids have no idea about:

        Cassette tapes, walkmans,

        VHS tapes, VCRs

        only 6 chanels

        type writers
        phones with cords
        Car phones
        Cars without DS charger adapters in the back, sirius radio, Ipod download capabilities and DVD player

        CD's or a CD player
        A phone book
        A map book
        Picture film

       

       

      

With a Dash of Karma

           I'm a Christian but there is something to be said for karmic retribution.  When I was in Basic Training I was put in charge of my Flight. Two other girls did not take kindly to this and devised a plan to get me booted back a week. It worked. Not only was I sent back but I was taunted by all the instructors, I lost all privileges, my mail was tossed instead of given to me. I was also required to do twice as much P.T. as the rest of my new flight. I was even alienated by my new group. It was discovered too late that they had set it up and I could not be moved back up though my treatment did change slightly for the better. It worked out. I ended up setting records for the female run and push-ups. I gained the respect of my new T.I.s for handling everything with dignity and was honored by being picked to sing the National Anthem at our graduation.  I bet you are wondering what this has to do with karma. 

 A week prior to my graduation, when my old flight was graduating I saw the two girls. They both had all their long hair chopped within two inches of their scalp and had plastic shower caps on their heads. They had gotten head lice during their field week.  Aaaah, sweet retribution.

          I always try to remember this when things go wrong for me. I know their is justice in the universe. And good karma, just like bad, will come back to you.

         My neighbor and I recently got into a bit of a disagreement.  It was a silly matter of me trying to change something in consideration of people driving in front of our houses.  She got nasty and I dropped it. To make a long story short we haven't spoken since.  Yesterday the bus came early and she was not home to pick up her daughter. I held the bus for her.  She now feels so awful for how she treated me that she is being super sweet and even offering to do things for me.  Sweet justice. I'm wondering how much I can take advantage of this before I swing the karmic pendulum the other way.........................? 

Football is Consuming my LIFE

My oldest son (as I'm sure you are all sick of hearing) playes football. Practice is twice a week with games on Saturday. My daughter cheers for football on Saturdays and practices at the football field the same nights. My husband coaches, which means we get together with the team (like the pot-luck at our house last weekend). My husband also playes in two leagues, one on Wednesday night and one on Sunday. We always watch the NFL games - at least one sometimes three. This weekend we are having people over for the game.  All my husband is capable of talking about right now is football. No matter how the conversation starts, it ends with football.

                 me: " I talked to my sister today. She has morning sickness really bad."

             hubby: "I was feeling sick before my game. The first quarter we............."

                 me: "Boys have homework tonight"

            hubby: " I need to do some research so I can update my fantasy football team"

Our family meals are all centered around football. Practice? it's hamburger helper, fast food or something quick like spaghetti. NFL game? I'm making nachos, pizza or chili. No more big weekend breakfasts with all the trimmings. Now it's protein bars, pop tarts or doughnuts on the way to the game.

I'm doing double the laundry because of all the practice and game clothes. And washing the floor twice as much from all the cleats walking through the house.

Last night after Hubby's game (which they won) kids went to bed. Hubby went to bed.  I sat down at the computer. When Yahoo! popped up there were those little articles about football bloopers, miracle plays and the dead player. I was reading it all for about ten minutes before I realized what I was reading. 

 Football is consuming my life!