Wandering the Midwest

A Serious Pause: Part 2

2012-01-30T09:00:00.002-05:00

Sometimes depression is like trying to fight an invisible force which is like ... well, fighting an invisible force pretty much says it all.

So often when I feel that cold cloak of sadness starting to cover me, I fight it. I resist the emotional injury. Worse yet, I pretend it's not there and deny my true issues. I don't want to be sad. I don't want to be blue. But still, I am.

People try to make me smile and think that will make it all better. Add a laugh here and there. they're trying for my sake, so I force a smile. I play the part. I fight the cold cloak for the sake of other's feelings. Rather than get what I need from others, I show them false happiness in order to make them go away.

Healthy, huh?

Someone once told me something when I was similarly possessed by extreme emotional and external forces and fighting how I was feeling. Ride the wave.

Ride the wave, baby. Just go with it.

When you fight something you can't control, you're putting energy into nothing and not putting any into yourself.

So I've learned to just go with it. Let my emotions take the front seat for a while. Allow myself to feel the crappy emotions that are trying to take over. Then start to put myself back together again.

A Serious Pause: Part 1

2012-01-26T08:00:00.000-05:00

A while ago I read a post sent to me by a friend and written by a Real Live Blog Goddess : The Bloggess. It's about her battle and a wonderful read. So take a minute to read her words.

She wrote about Depression. At the time I read it, my life was a total mess with external tornadoes threatening to turn it completely upside down. By some small miracle, I stayed upright.

Loved ones were sick, house fires, Christmas, insomnia, feeling personally lost, add a decent helping of Expected Holiday Joy to that bowl, throw in visits from family and Non-Stop Kid Time and I was in a freaking Pit of Despair that needed to keep going round the clock. After reading her description of her hell, I started doing a lot of thinking. I came to terms with myself that I was very Depressed.

Not stressed. Depressed.

Not tired. Depressed.

Not simply sad. Fucking Depressed.

I cracked the day after Christmas when all I really wanted to do was lock myself in the bathroom and make the wolves fend for themselves. I wanted to cry. To break down and get all this energy and pent-up bullshit off my chest. But there was no time. More family was arriving, kids were expecting happy times, smiles and more presents. I needed to push it down a little more.

I put on my Big Girl Panties and dealt with it. I lasted until bedtime. Then I lost it.

All I wanted was to melt away. For someone to tell me I was okay to be weak. That someone else would be strong for me for a while. It was okay to be sad. It was okay because I was not going through this crap alone. I wanted reassurance. Comfort. Compassion. But I was met with the Oblivious Wall.

People that have not experienced Depression just don't get it.

Let me say that again in case you weren't listening.

People that have not experienced Depression just don't freaking get it.

Unfortunately, Captain is someone that has not experienced Depression personally. To him, depression is something you can sleep off or treat by watching a comedy or simply Lightning Up and laughing. Or that it's just a Hormonal Girl thing. (Statements like that makes me want to kick men in the balls - you think we like feeling like a homicidal lunatic once a month?)

Captain has the Oblivious Wall. Not that he does not think Depression is real. He knows it is. But I think it scares him a little. It's weepy. Something he can't understand. Something that the Depressed can't even articulate and he cannot comprehend. So he backs away from it, hoping it will go away.

With me, that means I also withdraw. And get bitter. For days. I sit on it until I explode over something trivial. Commence long argument about nothing that really matters. We take a pause. We make up. All better. For a little while.

Lurking in my Library

2012-01-25T08:00:00.000-05:00

While I'd like this to be a post about what I am reading and give you a nice, wrapped-up summary of some wonderful novel I just completed, I have to be real.

It is my every intention to give you a regular post about you wanting to know what I'm sticking my nose into when I finally squirrel away 15 minutes and guiltily start reading instead of doing some chore or playing Zuma on Facebook.

That is why you're here, right? To eavesdrop and look in my windows?

Such a voyeur! I love it!

DinDC is also going to be contributing so you can also look over her shoulder and in her windows to see what she's reading - which will be better written, grammatically correct and probably be a more adult version of what I am reading.

This is my MAGIC book
ie. my e-Precious

DinDC pretty much is the best girl in the whole-wide world and is totally my bestest friend ever. She bought me a Brand Spank-Me New Kindle for Christmas. With my pretty new Kindle comes more opportunities to read. Like when Captain wants to watch wrestling or a football game I don't care about, I can read. I don't have to worry about damaging my Precious books. It's genius.

I've downloaded at least 20 e-books in the last month and completed only one of them. It was a short story by Stephen King. It took me 3 days to read, even though if I were to print it out it would be all of 15 pages long.

It's encouraged me to do what I always wanted to do - I'm reading the classics. I'm starting with Uncle Tom's Cabin and am 50% done (per my electronic BFF).

I'll still buy books. Some books are worth buying. And some books I will e-read, then buy to sit pretty on my shelf with my other Precious-es. But Junk Food books and anything I want to be able to read on-the-go will go to the e-BFF. (Along with my obsessive word games. Shhh... don't tell.)

Look for more posts from me and DinDC soon so you can get your voyeuristic literary rocks off.

You're welcome and I'm closing the curtains now.

The Underwear Dilemma

2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-05:00

Eeney, meenie, miney, moe...

Here's the problem (laundry-wise) with having four males in your house: you have to sort their underwear. Boxers, briefs, character cartoon undies, tighty whities... all of various designs and sizes... whew!

It's also kinda gross to dig out a pair of nasty undies from the bottom of someones pants. I'm just saying, you never know what you might find. Especially when one of the offenders is 12 and all kinds of curious.

It's easy with Monkey. He's only 4 1/2 and still wears characters on his undies. Also 98% of his dirty clothes go back to his mom's house and he only wears Cars on his little booty. That little boy has a serious passion about Cars stuff.

Itchy - he was pretty easy. Back when he was little and cute and everything. He was the only one with cartoons on his undies for the longest time. Then he moved out of characters and into tighty whities just as Scratchy went from tighty whities to boxers.

Then we moved in with Captain and 2 people were wearing boxers. I had to start reading tags and looking at patterns.

Itchy & Scratchy got undies for Christmas and now it's all screwed up.

Scratchy alternates between boxers and boxer-briefs. His newest (and most frequently worn) boxers don't have cartoons or animals on them because that's not cool, Mom! Now Scratchy's boxers look like Captain's. Itchy's undies look like little versions of his big brother's... it's a mess. Itchy wears boxers, boxer briefs AND an assortment of fitted undies both with and without characters. GAH!

I'm tempted to start labeling their undies. Everyone gets to have their name on the tag like they are 11 and going to camp. That way when I do laundry, I won't have to spend an extra 10 minutes finding the tags, reading the sizes and trying to figure out what size everyone is.

Think a 30-something man will be irked if I write his name in all his undies??

Don't even get me started on my Sock Hell.

You Know the Honeymoon's Over When...

2012-01-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

I love you and all, but I'm going to be over here. M'kay?

1. It's not a big deal if you are in the other room for hours on end doing Something Else. I've been blogging for 145 minutes (not that I'm counting) and not one interruption or meaningful glace asking me to sit by him and watch whatever's on TV.

2. You shower, dress and change clothes with the door open and openly in front of each other. And you don't suck in anything. Even when you gain 15 pounds because your stupid ankle injury basically makes you a couch potato for nine months and the idea of exercise in the winter makes your bones ache.

3. You tell the other person what you really think of their outfit. And they don't take offense. He threw out all my polo shirts because he thought it made me look like a boy. I threw out some hideous work shirts that looked like they were from the 90's - and probably were. That or the person picking them out was color blind. Or just lacked taste at that particular moment while shopping.

I smell like WHAT?!?

4. Likewise, you tell the other person when they are smelly. And they still don't take offense.

5. Gas is not a big deal. It happens. And most of the time it's damn funny. Unless it smells. Then go away from me. And when you come back, shake it out. There's nothing funny about a smelly tail.

You're listening, but you don't HEAR me.
I HEAR you. So do the Gazelles, the Lions, the Zebras...

6. You get mad, frustrated, fight and argue but never worry about breaking up or anything being a Deal Breaker. You're in it to win it. And most of the fights are for what you think will help you both win. After all, make up sex will always be awesome.

7. You don't say you're sorry, buy something sweet and move on when those crappy, frustrating moments happen. You listen, you learn, you get mad at yourself for letting it happen and you both try harder to be better partners.

8. The idea of spending a weekend alone or apart does not make your heart ache. It makes you think about where you'd go and how fast you can pack a bag. And getting word of a weekend work trip alone sounds very similar to angels singing.

9. You're okay with each other having other people as friends and spending time with them is definitely agreeable. As long as she's not as pretty as me and he's not as handsome as him. Jealousy isn't a good color on anyone.

10. Gifts are no longer well-thought well-researched, analyzed and agonized over. You make mutual decisions based on what you want and then buy each other candy and junk food as "surprises." Win!
__________________________________________________________________

The Honeymoon may be over - and has been with me and Captain for a long time - but that only means that life is getting real and that you're no longer pretending to be the person you think they want you to be. You show the real You full-time. You make a real life together and work on real issues and real foundation-building milestones. The Honeymoon was good, but this part is the best yet.

Princesses

2012-01-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

Baby Girl is 2 1/2 now and into Princesses, as all little girls are. Her mommy is an avid Disney Princess fan, so it's not a surprise. Baby Girl's a Princess in overalls with mud on her face. That's something I appreciate about her, her balance. Pretty but tough as nails. She's also obsessed with Alvin and the Chipmunks - Simon is her favorite - and Cars. But this is mostly about the Princesses.

Gah...

I'm not so much a Princess kind of girl. I've seen all the movies. I've read all the stories. I've sung all the songs... I even tried to be a Princess kind of girl for the sake of both of my little sisters (19 and 23 years younger than me). It just didn't look right on me. The whole Prince Charming rescuing the misunderstood, abused, forgotten beautiful girl who was tortured by her stepmother... yeah... not my idea of a beautiful, inspirational moment.

Before you jump on the Wicked Stepmother Bandwagon as my reason for not loving the Princesses, my inability to adore these characters was before even I had kids.

When asked what my favorite princess is, I have to say Snow White. For no other reason than the fact that she went to live with a bunch of guys in the middle of a forest for protection and all the animals were pretty awesome with her. The idea of leaving a palace and living in the woods is pretty appealing to me.

My version of Prince Charming

My fairy tale is Peter Pan. Probably because I see myself like Wendy. Forced to grow up a little faster than she wanted, responsible for her younger siblings, a mother-hen by nature, decides to take on a wild boy and attempts to tame him, while falling in love at the same time. Except in my fairy tale, Wendy stays with Peter, she lightens up A LOT and he grows up just a little and they live happily ever after with the mermaids, pirates and Indians and a gaggle of rambunctious boys to take care of.

Not all of my life turned out like that. But the important parts have.

I don't mind that Baby Girl and I won't be bonding over a brightly-colored Princess Moment. I'm sure there will be other things in her life where we will connect and will be special for just the two of us.

I'm okay giving up the tiara and glass slippers until that moment comes.
_____________________________________________

Funny Snow White story:

For Christmas, Baby Girl got a Snow White doll from Grammy. She ran up to Captain the other night with Snow White in her hand and the bow and hair net thingy in the other hand and said "Help me, Daddy! Can you fix her!?"

Without missing a beat, she added "It's m'kay Daddy. Accidents happen." and toddled back off to the playroom.

A few moments after fiddling with the toy, he looked over to me and asked me if I knew how to fix Princess Hair. I told him I did and that it was a required skill mastered by all 6 year-old girls. I took the doll and accessories he gladly handed to me, made her as good as new and returned her to the care of Baby Girl.

It's m'kay. Accidents happen.

I'm a Domestic Goddess

2012-01-18T08:00:00.000-05:00

I've been nesting lately. I don't know if it's from the cold weather and not spending so much time inside that the chaos, mess and "stuff" is getting to me. Regardless of the reason, I have been cleaning, organizing and changing up things in the house weekly.

Two weekends ago I did 12 loads of laundry on top of cleaning the house, cooking and all the other normal weekend chores that come with being a mom and having a full time job. I also packed away all the Christmas crap that was still sitting out and cleaned out toys and some leftover boxes that are still not unpacked. And I got out the leaf blower and my boys and I cleaned up the entire yard while Captain was at work one afternoon.

Last weekend I did another half-dozen loads of laundry, ran a bunch of errands, cleaned out my van and about a billion other things. I made a damn delicious blueberry-cherry pie (1/2 from scratch), guacamole (Yummy!) and a menu of real-food cooking for the next 7-10 days.

I remember my Past Life (that's what Captain and I call our circumstances while we were in our previous marriages), I would get mad and I would clean the house. Clearly, I am happy because our house is in constant need of cleaning and maintenance. It's not dirty by a long shot - but it's messy. There are things in every room, on every surface, stashed in every place I have that need to be taken care of.

I've felt pretty accomplished over the last few weeks. Working overtime, running maintaining a house with a cat, dog, 4 kids and 2 adults, cooking, cleaning, organizing my Cub Scouts (I was recently appointed to Chairman), managing all kinds of things for the house and kids... and so far not much has fallen to the wayside.

Yeah me!

Old Man and The Sea: Part 4

2012-01-16T08:00:00.000-05:00

My oldest son wrote this essay for his Literature class. I think it needs to be shared.

** I did make some minor corrections.

Everyday Hero

My everyday hero is my Grandad. My Grandad lives in **South Haven, Michigan. He was a soldier in the war. He is a survivor of **Vietnam. He has cancer now, but he is still a lot of fun.

Since he was in Vietnam he likes to watch weapon shows on the Military Channel. One of his favorites is Snipers or Secret Hunters. My Gandad often cheers me up and helps me get over stuff that is hard to let go. He helps calm me down.

He is connected to an IV to hydrate him. He may not know how to do many things anymore, like how to use a computer. He can't remember how to use a computer to check his email!

__________________________________________

In typical Scratchy fashion, there is no ending. He likes to leave his papers 2/3 done and no closure. For what he wrote, I thought it was pretty damn good.

Apparently, he thinks Grandad should be checking his email more often!

A Letter to My Scratchy

2012-01-01T15:15:00.000-05:00

My Dearest Scratchy,

You're goofy, but still adorable.

(I know I don't call you Scratchy in real life... but go with it)

Twelve years ago you came bursting into this world screaming about injustices and rather annoyed by everyone. When you were put into my arms, I had an instant smack of reality. What do I do with a BABY?! I was young. I was naive about how hard (and expensive) it was to take care of a child. I was on shaky ground myself, but I carried you close, and we started our own path. Up hills, over mountains and through scary and happy places.

You were an imaginative, energetic, LOUD little kid. You had quirks about you that I still love. From Toy Story to Dinosaurs to Power Rangers to Dragons... Your fierce independence, funny smile and your silly ways brought more happiness into my life than I thought possible. I had no idea where life was taking you, but it you were going to get there with no announcement needed.

Childhood innocence

I know that life was not easy for you. We moved 8 or 9 times in your first 7 years of life. Apartments to houses to more apartments. You never had a space of your own. You've already been in 4 different schools and one year I gave up the idea of a new school and just homeschooled you. You've made friends and lost them over and over because we moved. You never had the opportunity to have a real childhood home. I promise all the moves were for good reasons.

Your wonderful world of Stinky and Smelly which had both your parents in the center was blown up when your little brother was born and you were, very unfortunately, pushed aside for far too long. That little beastie was in your room All. The. Time.. He did not play with you like we promised, demanded all our attention and pretty much made you the Forgotten Child.

The year after that little beastie was born, I worked a lot. Too much. I was gone all the time, long hours, weekends, long trips. It still breaks my heart to remember how you cried when I was making banana bread one fall afternoon when you were about 5 years old because you thought I was leaving you for another long work trip.

See the thing in the red shirt? That's the Beastie.

Later in your childhood, your dad had some major problems. You had to see them first hand. You were on the front lines, protecting and partnering with your little brother from all the scary, strange things that happened with him. You also shouldered through a messed up divorce and had to understand all too young how mom's and dad's sometimes love each other enough to make a family, but don't like each other enough to live under a roof as one.

I'm sorry for that.

You grew up faster than you needed to. I didn't protect you as much as I should have. You retreated emotionally. You held back, you lost that fire. It was always WAY more than just a spark.

Through it all - the moves, the brother, the divorce, the chaos, the changes... you have made me very proud. Right now you are full into your teenage boy attitude, and that's okay, too (most of the time). I miss snuggles and cuddles and still try to hold on a moment longer than you'd like when we hug. I know you love me and are just trying to spread your wings.

If my children have any part of my spirit, you are my soul. Your insight, your sadness, your love, your determination, your passive nature, your angry, fierce passion, your ambition... that's me in there. Love me or blame me for it, it does not matter, really. You'll probably do both throughout your life.
I love you so very much. I'm proud of you. I will always be by your side, 10 feet behind or on the sidelines supporting you. I know whatever you do, wherever life takes you, you will own it and make me even more proud.

Mr. I'm-Almost-12-Leave-Me-Alone

Happy 12th birthday (2 weeks late), son.

I love you,
XOXO
Mom

P.S. You have not taken more than one decent picture a year in the last 5 years. What's up with that?? - Mom

The Post-Christmas Hangover

2011-12-28T15:15:00.005-05:00

There is nothing more exhilarating this time of the year than tearing down all the happy, joy, peace, noel, ho ho ho! crap, stuffing it back into it's box/tote/bag and throwing in the the darkest, deepest part of the attic for the next 11 months.

The toy room is a disaster with new toys, old toys random boxes and parts of Things. My 8' tall, 6' round tree taking up a significant portion of Free Space.

There is a mountain of boxes and totes that are empty, waiting to be refilled and banished to the attic. It was more work putting them away and getting them back out in 3 weeks than just leaving them out and walking around. And they made great play for the kids nerf gun wars.

I finally dished out the last of the Christmas cookies which occupied my valuable counter top real estate for weeks to my co-workers (who were very grateful and gobbled them up in minutes). Suckers.

I normally leave all of it up until after Scratchy's birthday, but I just don't see it happening this year.

I am ready to have my house back.

Not-So Merry Christmas

2011-12-25T10:20:00.005-05:00

So... this is how my Christmas is going down:

My step-dad is dying. His days are very numbered and it's heartbreaking.
My (only remaining) grandpa is so deep in his dementia, he hardly knows the floor from the ceiling and it's accelerating very quickly.
My sister's house burned down a week before Christmas. They lost everything. It was arson. Teenagers.
This is my first Christmas morning without my boys. Fist one in 11 years.
Captain is sick. On the couch all day sick.
I've spent the last 3 days of my vacation cleaning, straightening and preparing for today.
My perfect, new van was backed into. Completely on accident. I'm not mad about it, shit happens.

Merry Fucking Christmas.

As hard as I try to make things normal and to find some holiday cheer... I'm just not finding any. I'm planning Christmas dinner, got out all the presents, went to the local Festival of Lights. All these things I enjoy and are keeping me a little sane.

But I'm just not into it. And I feel like I am being blamed for not being happier. How dare I be moody on Christmas day?

Family will be over in the next few hours as well as all 4 of the Little Darlings.

As my daddy taught me, if you can't make it, fake it.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 4

2011-12-21T08:00:00.000-05:00

If my life were a cartoon, this would be the one.

Christmas Movies

I am not a "must watch everything on TV relating to Christmas" kind of person. I have my Annual Required Movies and they leave me with plenty of time to catch up on American Horror Story - my newest TV obsession.

A Charlie Brown Christmas: One of my favorite Christmas movies. There is nothing I don't love about it. The boys and I snuggle up on the couch and spend 22 uninterrupted minutes watching a little boy struggle to find the meaning of Christmas every year. Also, it's full of wisdom: We all know Christmas is a big commercial racket. It's run by a big Eastern syndicate, you know.

White Christmas: I saw this for the first time a few years ago and wanted to kick myself for not watching it sooner. I don't know if it's the era, the theatrical theme or the military connections, but this movie makes my heart all melty. And the songs are catchy.

Miracle on 34th Street: The original black and white one. Who does not love this movie? It's a classic and I watch it sometimes for nothing more than the reminder that Christmas, Santa and the Spirit of the Season are all real. And that little girl is dang cute.

Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Clause: Unfortunately, I cannot find the original of this movie or any reference to it online. Hey Mr. Internet, I thought you knew everything... liars! It was an old movie made in black and white. They used to play it on TV every year and my dad has a copy of it on VHS. I remember curling up with my dad and watching this every Christmas. It's his favorite movie and the happy memories are probably the only reason I like it today.

A Christmas Story: Another movie I saw way later in my life that I should have seen sooner. A dear friend loves this movie (before Leg Lamps and ACS crap was in every store) and I watched it mostly because of her incessant grouching that I was a Grinch for not seeing it. It's really freaking cool. Now, I put this on Christmas Day when TBS runs their marathon. My kids moan and groan, but I'll watch it at least twice. And... it was filmed in Cleveland, Ohio but takes place in Hammond, Indiana. I used to live very close to Hammond, so I feel like I "own" rights to liking it more than someone who lives in... I dunno... Florida.

The movie I won't watch by choice: It's a Wonderful Life. I don't think it's a movie about Christmas at all. In fact, I think it's not a very good movie either. I'm all for movies that demonstrate how you need to appreciate your current life because you never know... but this one is over the top for me. And I really don't like Jimmy Stewart all that much. Nothing personal, he just comes across whiny to me and I get enough of that with the TV off.

That's about it. I'll watch Gremlins, Die Hard and Nightmare Before Christmas out of spite for all those other traditional, jolly, festive Christmas movies. After all, these take place during Christmas and deserve their time in the holiday spotlight, too.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 5

2011-12-20T08:00:00.000-05:00

Cookies

Every year, Captain's family gets together and makes cookies for one whole day. We make, bake, mix and drool over hundreds of cookies. Literally hundreds. This year we had over 200 of ONE kind of cookie. Somehow no one ever thinks to "oops, I doubled it" to the bourbon ball recipe. I'll have to look into that next year...

Fudge, cookies, candied pecans, chex mix, cookies ... even doggie cookies! We give them away as gifts to friends and neighbors (and our tummies).

Making cookies is just a solid Christmas tradition. Itchy is usually with me in the kitchen helping me measure, sift, mix and spoon out while Scratchy lurks in nearby rooms, unwilling to do the work but more than willing to eat the dough. There is just something about the smell of cookies that makes it all make sense.

Even though we have cookies at home. Santa always gets a fresh batch made just for him on Christmas Eve. To me, Christmas smells like cookies. And plastic pine trees.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 6

2011-12-19T08:00:00.000-05:00

A Gingerbread (kid) Masterpiece - mine was WAY cooler.

Gingerbread Houses

I love making a Gingerbread House. I have a problem though. I don't like to share the making process. I want it pretty like the one on the box or like a fancy-pants picture I saw online. I want it to be Gingerbread House worthy of being on the cover of the Parade of Homes magazine.

The first year I made a house, I tried to let the kids help. Tried. In reality, I let them put some candies on very delicately, then ~~moved~~ fixed them when they were not looking and alternated between distracting the kids by shoveling candy at them so I could work and slapping their hands when they came too close. (Not literally slapping them, so calm down.) I had a project. I was focused.

Itchy totally posed for this picture

Two days after the immaculate Gingerbread House was complete, someone started getting twitchy fingers and the perfectly arranged shingles started disappearing. Then some of the tree and next the pathway. Finally, a whole chunk of icicle frosting and part of the roof was missing. An ugly, crying, sad confession revealed my little vandal. It was the same vandal that was snatching the candy canes off the Christmas tree and eating all but the j-hook parts. I found a little nest of the discarded leftovers thoughtfully hidden in the back of the tree. At least 20. *sigh*

Yeah, Scratchy posed for this one, too.

The next year I was much wiser. I bought 3 Gingerbread House kits. One for everybody. Yes, I buy kits. I'm not Martha Stewart and having pre-cut pieces and measured icing means I can get down to business that much faster. So shut it. I pre-built the houses for the boys, then let them frost, decorate and candy to their hearts content. They LOVED it. And I actually enjoyed it knowing I had my own mansion to prefect once theirs were underway.

And no twitchy fingers! I think making their own made them understand the labor of love and not want to devour it's sweet goodness. And I was still pumping them with leftover Halloween candy.

This year, I have not made a Gingerbread House. I have not found the time to buy a kit and don't know when I'll have the time to make it. Even though I am completely OCD about it, making it without the kids just isn't the same. Maybe next year.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 7

2011-12-18T10:48:00.000-05:00

Sledding:

For those of you in Minnesota... it is really called Sledding. Sliding is something you do on a slide or what your sled does on the snow.

The best thing about Christmas break for me when I as a kid was the chance to go sledding. Piling on all the seldom-used winter clothes, dragging a 50 pound sled up a 150 foot, 45 degree hill in below freezing weather.

GOOD TIMES.

My kids love sledding. All kids love sledding and squeal in excitement just thinking about it.

Know who doesn't love sledding? Adults. Know why? Because we're smarter than kids. Obviously.

Think about it. It's cold outside. It's wet. A face full of snow freaking hurts. And let's not get into the falls, slips and tumbles that will break our poor fragile hips. I

t's one hella long, hard walk up that steep, slippery hill for the 3.4 second slide down. Logistically, we just can't justify it. We'd rather look out the window and watch this insanity while sipping our Bailey's and hot chocolate (or Jack Daniels and hot cider, but whatever...)

There is a specific reason I don't own "real" snow boots and snow pants. This is one of them. I'd rather watch and take pictures and giggle and run back in the house when ~~my drink~~ I get cold.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 8

2011-12-17T10:30:00.000-05:00

(Most of) The Grand and Greatgrand Babies and my dad. ie - kids under 13

Family Time:

Every year my dad's family all gets together for Christmas at my grandparents house. The same house they have lived in for over 50 years. My dad has 4 sisters - 3 of them live in Michigan. There are 14 cousins, 11 of which live in Michigan. Add to that 7.5 grand kids (one cousin is expecting) and most of them living in Michigan... add in a couple boyfriends, friends and spouses and you have one huge family gathering.

We can't get any closet without getting cooties

I love this one afternoon a year and look forward to it. I have driven though snow storms and spent many hours on the road to make it for this annual party.

The kids get along. Everyone smiles and likes each other. The kids get gifts and get spoiled. They also get endless pinches on cheeks, tickles and "my aren't you getting big!" comments. Presents are torn into with gusto.

Me and my cousin - isn't she beautiful?!

The adult White Elephant exchange follows the kid session and we all laugh, steal and trade out loot.

We catch up, watch tv, play with the kids, eat. There are not many times my dad's family gets together. I have fond memories of Christmas at my grandparents house as a kid and want my kids to have those same memories.

I'm grateful to be spending this day with my family. All 9,753 of them.

Countdown to Christmas: Day 9

2011-12-16T10:30:00.000-05:00

Hello, I'm Christmas Cheer. And Obviously I've lost my damn mind.

Ridiculous Christmas Accessories:

Jungle bell earrings and necklaces. Hair clips, bracelets and rings with look like mini ornaments. The ugly Kindergarten teacher sweater. Candy cane striped socks. Little pins with assorted holiday jolly characters that stab you in the boob every time you put them on. Even Christmas Tree glasses.

I'm not a damn Christmas tree. Unless you're planning to put a lot of presents under me, I'll pass on the decorations.

I'll stick to my non-offensive ordinary clothes and avoid wearing my "I Hate Your Jolly Everything" and "I'll Tell You Were to Put the Tree" shirts in public.

Ok... I don't really have shirts like that. But I would totally wear them under my Christmas Sweater.

I'm all for Christmas. It's my second favorite holiday - Thanksgiving being my favorite because of the 3 F's - Family, Food, Football. I'm just not into pushing my Christmas spirit onto others. And even less into having it pushed on me.

If you want to decorate yourself like a tree, go for it. Me, not-so-much. And Santa... Please, leave the ~~jingly crap~~ jolly accessories out of my stocking. You can give them to someone who will... ~~not burn~~ appreciate them.

Change or Change? A Lesson in Sharing

2011-12-13T14:22:00.002-05:00

Is he asking for change or Change? Watch this 10 minute video. It will be worth your time.

And maybe it will make you think.

Money is tight and times are tough for everyone. Share. Help others. A little effort does go a long way.

Even if you don't think you have much to give, I bet you have something you can offer that means the world to someone else. Something so little can turn into something so big. Just look at any child around this time of the year and you have proof.
________________________________

My goodwill this season - Captain and I donated 2 large bags and a huge tote of new toys to Toys For Tots. Itchy helped me carry the toys into the store. We reflected on the way home about how fortunate we are. We both felt grateful knowing our excess would be someone's gift. Maybe their only gift.

We are also collecting coins to fill 2 piggy banks that will help the community food bank.

Itchy donated his allowance for 2 weeks to buy food for the food drive at school.

I work hard to instill the value of charity within my 25 little Cub Scouts and make sure that we are completing community service projects monthly. Cards for disabled veterans. Collecting canned food for the church food pantry. Cleaning the church. Christmas Cards for the elderly. One a month. Or more.

My mother taught me "If I have any, I have some to share." My father taught me that sometimes it's better to go without for the sake of someone else that has never had. I'm grateful for their lessons.

I have had my own rough times. Christmas was hard to scrape up in my house for many years. My son's first Christmas was with a $10 pre-lit drug store tree stacked on rubbermaid totes to make it look bigger. And we were grateful for even that. We bought presents at second-hand shops and re-gifted toys we had not yet opened and hoped he didn't remember. People helped me over the years without me ever asking. I have been the recipient of goodwill. A charity gave my boys amazing gifts for Christmas one year. Now I work hard to pay it forward.
_________________________________

My request of you:

Pay It Forward. Please, do some goodwill and charity this season. Teach your children to be humble and grateful. Think about that stack of gifts and if you can do without just one for the sake of a child that has none. Pick up an angel off an angel tree. Put a little more in the offering plate. Buy an extra can or box of food and put it in the donation box at the grocery store or your local church. Buy an extra pair of gloves or socks while you are at the Dollar Store and put them in a donation box. Drop your change in the Salvation Army bucket or the little can collecting coins for the animal shelter, sick, injured, wounded military, school in need ... any of them. All of them.

Share what you did. Because there is no such thing as a selfless deed. We give to feel good.
And you deserve a pat on the back for any gesture, no matter the size.

Moo On My Plate: Update

2011-12-09T08:00:00.000-05:00

About 3 months ago I wrote about my recent medical drama. Didn't read it? It's here. My update:

A couple times I went to the doctor because of dizzy spells. I've had three rounds of follow-up blood work. All came back better than the previous tests. I am getting healthier. My last round even had me at the bottom of the acceptable hemoglobin levels. Yay!

I'm yummy! Just not to you.

I'm down to one iron pill and at least one iron rich meal a day. No more fortified breakfast, spinach lunch and Mr. Cow for dinner with juice at every meal. Which is good because all that iron and vitamin C were seriously disagreeing with my tummy. My awesome friend recommended some more non-traditional iron rich foods (other than just my friend Mr. Cow) and I started making changes in my regular diet.

I go back for more blood work at the end of the month. They'll check to see if I can stop taking the supplement all together. I'm pretty sure they will tell me to keep taking it. It is what it is.

Nummy veggies!

What I've learned in these 3 months:

Eating a spinach salad loaded with veggies every day is ... ahem ... cleansing.
Mr. Cow still does not taste all that good to me. Buffalo tastes way better, but I guess I am just not a red meat eater by design.
I feel better when I eat right and remember to take my iron. I feel grumpy, sleepy and crappy when I forget and slip back to my old ways.
While coffee and eggs (egg whites) are supposed iron inhibitors... I have a really hard time keeping them out of my diet. Coffee more than eggs.
Time release iron is a smaller dose, but will not make you nauseous all day.
Extra Vitamin C is essential. So is lots and lots of water.
Dark chocolate is an excellent source of iron. That was a damn good tip! (I can't have much milk chocolate anyway.)
My digestive reaction to iron is not the same as most people. Nuff said.
People in my family don't talk about medical issues, even if they are genetic and preventable. Jerks.

In this journey of learning about anemia, I also learned it's pretty significant in all the women in my family. Not just the pre-menopausal women. Even my grandmother has to watch her diet and take iron pills. So this will be something I will have to monitor and pay attention to for a long time.

Probably the rest of my life.

What's Not Trending This Week

2011-12-08T08:00:00.000-05:00

In short ... me. I flip through Yahoo sometimes and catch the headlines. And I get to watch about 6 minutes of CNN in the morning - while drying my hair and brushing my teeth. I should be good, right?

Of the top 10 Google trends for the week, of all the people listed, 3 I have never heard of. Ugh. Maybe Yahoo would be better.

Aaahhh.... that's better. But clearly people are searching Yahoo for totally different things than Google people. (Me! Me! I love my Google!)

So, I'm back to being the left out kid that does not know if Snooki is a Kardashian or a Teen Mom. Oh... I don't really care.

Somebody is running for President. Well, lots of them are but none of them can make up their minds... so I'm not even bothering to follow that DC Shore drama.

There's issues with money. It's not just American issues. People all over the world are hungry, poor, cold, and in need of money. It's a crisis. Got it. Next?

The Occupy Wall Street movement is getting little coverage, though it should get a whole lot more. Censorship anyone? Seems to me that a movement by the people of the world to push for restructuring is a good idea when the world's structures are falling apart. Just sayin'.

The news tells me: Hollywood is dumb. People are missing their babies. People need work. Gas is expensive. The economy is up. The economy is down. Crap is bad in general. But there are a few awesome people. Next.

Pop culture left me behind when I had babies and needed to focus on All Things Mom and memorizing cartoon characters names and how to tell the difference between a rash and a Oh-Shit-What's-That-Rash were more important.

I'm okay with it. I know my neighbors names and what they do for a living. I know the first name of my kids teachers and can recognize all 8 of them. I know who the PTO president is and to run the other direction when she spots me. I know how to manage my money. I know what my Darlings are doing in school, how they learn, who their friends are and what they love to do/eat/sing/play.

I'm okay living in my cave. It's warm and we have cookies. About 20 dozen, BYO Milk.

Old Man and The Sea - Part 3

2011-12-07T10:00:00.000-05:00

After more health deterioration, more pain, more vomiting. More problems swallowing. More weight lost.
Is there any left to be lost? He's practically a skeleton already. They bit the bullet and went to the doctor for x-rays.

A blockage was preventing food from getting to his stomach. He needed nutrition, but could not get much. Removal of the blockage was not an option. A feeding tube was discussed.

After debating, deciding, waiting, researching... waiting some more... researching some more. The Old Man went in for surgery. Starving will not be an option.

At first it was written off as impossible given his frail condition. He is weak, having issues with staying hydrated, in a lot of pain, cancer rampant in his body. But he was not eating. And he needed to eat.

Starving will not be an option.

One cold December morning, my mom packed him up in the car and drove him to the local hospital. They performed the needed surgery and gave him a j-tube. It will pump a milky liquid food-like substance directly into his stomach/large intestines.

We all prayed, hoped, meditated, focused, told out friends and did our parts to give good mojo for him while he was in surgery. We held our breath waiting for the phone call.

Would it be calm? Or hysterical?

Around 2:30 that afternoon, I got the call. It was clam. I could hear the fear in my mother's voice. But she was still calm. He was okay. He was in recovery. Everything went well.

Today was NOT his day.

7 Signs You're About To Lose Your Mind

2011-12-05T11:17:00.001-05:00

You're watching that WITHOUT ME?!

1. You can recite any Dr. Seuss book and refer to it in your daily life.
And if you call things Beadle-Battler Sticks or telling your Darlings "I meant what I said and I said what I meant. I will call off Christmas. I mean it one-hundred percent!" You also tell your kids you know The Grinch personally and have no problem calling him, too.

2. You start watching cartoons while your kids are in in the other room/not home.
By choice. And you laugh. A little too much. Gold stars if you plan your evenings around what cartoons are on when the kids are gone.

3. You dream about work.
The #1 sign you are spending too much time at work. You need a vacation. Starting now. I give you permission. Send me a postcard!

4. Your blood pressure noticeably rises when you hear certain sounds made by your Darlings.
Move to an isolated location. Close the doors. Take 2 Tylenol. Breathe. Wait 3 minutes then join them and make a more annoying sound whenever they are around. That'll teach 'em!

5. The thought of teaching your pet to dance sounds plausible and like a potential lucrative investment.
Why has no one thought of doggie dancing school? I say doggie because you know a cat is too pretentious to dance. Obviously.

6. You refer to your Social Media (The Twit/ Crackbook) for opinions on your personal life rather than thinking about it.
After all, you have cartoons to watch and dance lessons to plan.

7. You start writing a blog.
Because the voices in your head are just not entertaining enough.

7 Signs You're A Domestic Goddess

2011-12-02T10:00:00.000-05:00

The Great Pumpkin

1. You trade in the car for a minivan.
Yesterday, we picked up the new van from the dealership. I traded in my little tan Appa for The Great Pumpkin. Driving 2 cars everywhere just isn't fun anymore.

2. Not only do you cook dinner for the family - and sometimes multiple dinners because the Mini Darlings are finicky but the Mega Darlings are good with grown-up food. but you clean the kitchen, too.

Can no one else do this?!

I swear... if I never have to make another batch of chicken nuggets, I'll find nirvana. Cleaning the kitchen is the only time I have at home where no one will bother me, run under my feet or offer to help.
Some call it chores. I call it "me time."

3. You react to the buzz of the dryer in the middle of your favorite TV show.
Because wrinkled shirts = ironing. And that means more chores. I usually end up ironing anyway because somebody can't go to work looking like he slept in his clothes and I like watching The Middle too much to get off the couch.

4. While others can see when something is clean, you are the only one that knows when it actually needs to be cleaned. With soap. And a scrub brush.
Without a chore chart, our house would be a pigsty. Still - with 4 kids, 2 adults, a cat and a dog... sometimes we come close.

Eat your $#^&%$ vegetables!

5. Not only do you understand the importance of a balanced diet, you make sure your whole family eats a blanaced diet, too.
After all, you're the one cooking and you know how we all need to eat more veggies... or they are welcome to go hungry.

6. On that topic... you can disguise, shred, hide and make invisible any vegetable in just about any dish to trick the Little ~~Monsters~~ Darlings into eating their vegetables.
Sometimes changing the name from broccoli to Little Trees and pretending to be the starving tree-eating monster rampaging through the forest gobbling up all the cheese-topped trees in your path works, too.

7. Regardless of what your career path is (work, stay home, Facebook), you don't stop moving until way after the kids are in bed, the dishwasher is running, kitchen is clean, laundry is started, backpacks & school shenanigans sorted out, pets are content, trash is taken out, tomorrow's to-do list is started and the handsome man on the couch is calling to you because he wants to start The Middle, but not without you.
Unless he decides to skip the Charming Man part and puts on wrestling instead. That's pretty much a guaranteed snuggle-deterrent.

The Old Man and the Sea - Part 2

2011-11-28T13:00:00.000-05:00

After his 6 week test they learned it was progressing quickly. Months. That's what they were told. Months to live. Last I checked we were not born with an expiration date. But the Old Man was getting advance warning that his was about to come around.

In October the rest of the family was told. Seeing New Years was his next goal. Maybe even his oldest son's birthday. Maybe even spring and his birthday. But he wasn't hopeful.

Living for 12 weeks was his goal? 12 weeks...

He started sending letters to people. He was happy. Well, maybe not happy. Peaceful. Content. Accepting. He said he was done mourning. He was not regretful. Just tired.

My brother came back from Nebraska a couple more times. Even is trying to move to a job closer to home. There were many more family meetings and visits. Things that were put off till tomorrow were made a priority. He focused on getting my brother's truck he is rebuilding together. He put lots of time into a scale model ship he is building from scratch. He's making things for the kids to keep to remember him by. Boxes, treasure storage containers. Something he hopes they will always have and think of him. He wrote his obituary. The final arrangements have been made.

Just 3 weeks ago he was eating and walking around like normal. He was counting every day he woke up one more gift. As the pain progresses, he will probably start thinking twice about wanting to accept that gift.

He was pale. A stranger could tell he was sick. But he was not too bad. There was lots of pain meds. Lots of late nights. Lots of pain in general. Lots of visits from Hospice.

Hospice. The people that help you die.

Now he's on an IV permanently and refers to his IV pole as his girlfriend, Ivy. The fight occasionally and she refuses to behave in the bedroom, so he's couch-bound. He's not much eating again. His pancreas is not working much anymore and making digestion difficult. Most foods upset his stomach. A lot don't stay down. He is skin and bones - almost literally. He's dehydrated from all the pain meds. Mom gets his weight, what he eats, the amount of meds daily. She charts and keeps track of every detail... just in case. He can't be left home alone very much anymore. He broke-up with Ivy to go to the bathroom the last time mom went to the store. Hospice was called to get them back together.

It's heartbreaking. It's agonizing. It's unfair. And I'm 200 miles away from it.

I can't stand thinking that the next holiday we have together will be bedside rather than at the table and bullshitting about nothing and everything into the early hours of the morning.

Fucking cancer. (Sorry, mom) It's bullshit.

So, if you have it in you - get in touch with them. If you have a story or a memory to share, share it. Write it down, send it to them. Give them a call. Stop by. Offer to take the dog for a walk or to make a meal. Offer to clean a room or just watch TV with the Old Man while mom is at work.

The Old Man and The Sea - Part 1

2011-11-25T09:39:00.000-05:00

My stepdad aka the Old Man is sick. In the worst way. He has pancreatic cancer. The shit that can't be cured, barely can be treated and has no regard for its victim.

A year ago, he was having trouble swallowing. He felt like there was something stuck in his throat. X-Rays revealed a growth. His insurance sucked, so the doctors were demanding payment upfront for a biopsy. Lots of payment. So he had to wait. And he started starving. He was malnourished. He got sick. He could hardly walk. After months of frantic searching and lots of paperwork to find a means to get him medical treatment, he was finally admitted to the VA hospital. Unfortunately, it was 3 hours from the house.

He stayed for a couple weeks getting hydrated and nourishment, tests and more tests. It was cancer. A tumor. Nothing major, probably caused by poor eating and years of acid reflux. He spent the next 6 months going through rounds of chemo, radiation and hospital stays. He had a tube in his nose to his stomach to pump food into his system because he still could not swallow food. Eventually he had enough strength and weight for the doctors to ok him for surgery and have the tumor removed. I spent many early mornings on the road driving up to the hospital to be with my mom.

His heart stopped twice during the procedure.

Twice. He technically died twice.

But he pulled through and put his smart-ass pants back on as soon as he was awake. His PET scan said there was no more cancer. The surgery was invasive and more extreme than they wanted, but they got it and he was clean.

Lobster on his birthday

Clean. What a beautiful word.

He recovered and set a goal - to be able to eat lobster for his birthday that spring. And damnit, he did it. Not much, but he did it. D and her hubby helped organize his birthday, my brother from Nebraska came in as a surprise, we bought and cooked lobsters at the house. My awesome sister in law cooked a bunch of side dishes. My other brother bought steaks for us to grill. We celebrated a birthday we almost didn't have.

In June he started having pains in his side. They said it was a gas bubble. In July the pains were worse and they demanded tests. Damn. It was cancer again. Pancreatic. And liver already. Wait 6 weeks and recheck to see how fast it's spreading.

6 weeks my parents kept this to themselves. They told no one. They made plans, prepped for the inevitable.

Thanksgiving - Smith Style

2011-11-23T09:00:00.000-05:00

Counterclockwise from left: Itchy, Kiddo, Scratchy, Captain and Munchkin

Thanksgiving 2009

Every other year or so I go home to spend Thanksgiving with my dad and his side of the family. As a kid, Thanksgiving was always held at either my great grandmother's house or my grandparents (next door). As my aunts & uncles families extended and the kids grew up, it has been either at my grandparents house or my dad's house. Sometimes it's a huge gathering. Sometimes it's just the few of us. Any way it happens, I'm happy to be able to share it with them all.

Here's how a traditional Smith Thanksgiving goes down. For sake of a better story, I'll pretend it's a my grandparents house and all the family is coming over.

10 am - the turkey goes in the roaster The greatest invention ever. Per the heads of the Smith Family. Papa randomly belts out "Oh sole a mia!" in his best Italian. (Even though we are dominantly German and those are the only words he knows.)

10 am to Noon - flurry of activity in the kitchen while all the side dishes are made and prepped. Potatoes, gravy, stuffing, veggies chopped, green jello salad*, breads, pies, corn and green bean casseroles, and food, food, food. Papa supervises from the living room and wanders into the kitchen to correct the "cooks." Grandma is the matriarch and delegates. My stepmom is the facilitator handing out pots, pans and dishes from places we cannot find. There is extensive debate about the temperature of the oven, what is in there, what is coming out and who needs to adjust their recipe because No, we are not cranking it up to 425 for just 20 minutes, you should have cooked it at home.

*Green Jello Salad: Common name - Green Goo. Contents: green Jello, mayonaise, onion, cottage cheese, cucumber?, cool whip? I dunno. It looks like cool-whip and jello. But trust me, it is nothing like that sweet 70's dessert. Loved by grandma, my dad and maybe one other member of the family. Calling it Green Goo at the dinner table will cost you two bites. It's nasty stuff. Newcomers to the family are not warned about the Green Goo. We all smirk and watch them scoop up what they think is dessert. We give sideways glances as they take their first bite and restrain laughter and choking while they gag it down and pretend to be polite. Someone will quickly whisper Nasty stuff, huh? and hear What IS this?! And we laugh. It's a right of passage.

My dad & Munchkin 2009

Noon - 1:30 - more family arrives, more food is prepared. I usually work on cheese and crackers and veggie trays. Anyone shorter than grandma (who isn't all that tall) is forbidden in the kitchen. My dad sneaks in for turkey trimmings when he's carving. Just testing it. And he continues to bark orders at everyone else while the last minute rush starts and everyone tries to take everything out at the same time and hustle it to the table.

1:55 - the one aunt that is ~~forever late~~ just on time storms in. Forgets her dish-to-pass, brings her kids and her kids boy/girl/neighbor/school friends with her. We often have no idea who or how many teenagers she will be bringing with. Proceeds directly to the banquet.

Itchy 2007

2 o'clock - dinner time! Turkey legs are quickly claimed by family members even before we all sit down. Seats are taken, the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren say the family prayer. Little kids are shuffled to the back room - where the youngest have eaten Thanksgiving dinner for at least 2 generations.

Platters and serving bowls are passed. Mom's prepare food for the starving kids who 1/2 an hour prior filled up on appetizer plates and cookies given to them by an aunt or uncle when mom or dad wasn't looking. Massive food is consumed. The kids push their food around to look like something was actually eaten.

But Papa said I could have dessert!

Plates are cleared. Most of the women move back to the kitchen to wash dishes, clean up the leftovers, pack to-go bags for everyone and bring out the desserts. It's an assembly of coordination and skill only comparable to a flock of birds - everyone moving all at once, yet all in sync around each other. The kids break out their toys and watch cartoons in the back room. The men retire to the living room to break out their smartphones or watch football - the only approved program on television in the family room on holidays. They will talk shit about players, criticize the coaching, talk about whatever sports-related scandal/news is happening. Most doze off in food-induced comas.

Food Hangover

Later afternoon - kitchen is cleaned up. desserts are picked at and picked over. The kids graze constantly because they didn't eat their meals and munch on cookies and pies instead. The mom's nod approvingly because it's what we did and After all, it's Thanksgiving. Yes you can have another cookie, just go play. Can't you see mama is FINALLY getting some Adult Conversation Time? The women gossip and talk about the family, what we want to do for Christmas, gift ideas, who wants what, what so-and-so has been up to lately, who is having babies, the latest family scandal, etc. A kid will get injured/something will break/someone will cry. There will be 25 more people than necessary dealing with it. But that's okay, too. Grandma will show us her new craft/project in the works. We will ooohhh and aaahhh appropriately.

4-5 pm - most everyone has already gone home or on to other houses for more turkey and football. The kids will get hungry and Thanksgiving Part 2 will begin with the women breaking out the bags and containers of leftovers and words of Yes this is all we have, you will eat it or starve. no you cannot have more cookies. I don't care what Uncle Don said (gives evil eye to the guilty Uncle). The Black Friday ads will be scoured over, debates and plans-of-action made for the next morning. Coupons and while you're there, pick me up... here's $20. will be communicated. Once again proving this flock of birds can move with precision and stealth in and out of the kitchen.

1 am - Black Friday - the women wake up, make some coffee and drive out in the freezing cold to get the absolute best bargains. Shopping, crowds, credit cards and long lines. Then we meet at the local Pancake house for a breakfast.

I'm a sucker for traditions. These are the Thanksgiving Days I will always remember, the ones I hope my kids will remember and the type of holiday I want to be able to give my kids and grandkids.

Happy Thanksgiving!

S'mores - City Style

2011-11-21T09:00:00.000-05:00

Sometimes you have to get creative and add some impulsive fun into the routine.

When it rains All. Freaking. Fall. Or we're not home. Or busy. Or not in the mood...

And you can't make the bonfire the kids have been asking about all year.

And the marshmallows in the pantry have been there so long, they are turning from many into one lump.

And conveniently, the camping forks were not put away from the last time they were used.

You get City S'mores. I can't believe there's actually a recipe for it, but there is.

We even put on winter hats to make it feel more realistic.

It wasn't quite the same without the wood taste and smoke in your eyes, but it was good enough and my boys thought they were getting the treat of a lifetime!

Kid's Art Fail

2011-11-18T09:00:00.000-05:00

Itchy made this last winter in daycare.

Finger paint Santa's with white beards and cherry red noses.

Unfortunately, my son's Santa was not so lucky.

It was determined there was a jaded elf named Al on duty. Al was up for Head Elf after Sam retired. But some college rookie with "more ambition and smaller salary requirements" was promoted instead.

Al did not take the news well. The red dot between the eyes tells it all.

Or maybe Itchy was sending out a warning to Santa - "Give me what I want or else!"

Poor Santa.

So all you 99%'ers - I hear they are taking applications at the North Pole. Here's your reference book.

The Magic of Childhood

2011-11-17T09:00:00.000-05:00

This is an awesome picture. Mostly because it has an awesome story...

Every summer, I pack up the kids stuff and send them to Michigan off for a week (or more) long Camp Granny and the kids go stay with my mom and step-dad for a week. It's good one-on-one time for the boys, gives me a week off mom-duty, and gives them memories they will have forever.

I digress...

My hometown is right on Lake Michigan and mom lives within a mile from the water still. One evening Camp Granny took a field trip to the lake and as sunset approached, my mom told the boys the same thing she told me when I was their age.

"Shhh.. Listen. Do you hear the sun sizzling as it goes into the water?!"

They listened as hard as they could. And just like Santa's bells on Christmas Eve, they heard the sizzle of the sun. And being the nostalgic Granny she is, she snapped this picture, capturing their innocence and childhood magic in the process.

I still hear it once and a while when I am back home. Not as often anymore; most of that magic in me has died. But once and a while... if I listen extra hard I can faintly make out the hiss and sizzle of the water as the sun descends into the lake.

My kids still hear it. They still hear Santa's sleigh bells on Christmas Eve, too. Scratchy gives me the "give me a break..." look if I ask about it. But deep down there is still magic. I hope it stays just a little bit longer.

What I'm Reading

2011-11-16T09:00:00.000-05:00

I am an avid Stephen King fan. I have loved his writing since I first swiped my step-dad's paperback The Dark Half in high school and read it cover to cover in days. The forbidden nature of this horror author, the thought that his books were "adult" and I was only 15 or so excited me. And the man is a literary genius.

I have read them all - with the exception of the Dark Tower series. I just don't love Sci-Fi. Cowboy sci-fi does even less for me.

He scared the sleep out of many of my nights. He made me laugh, cry, physically ill once or twice. I lost sleep with Insomnia. I reconsidered my cell phone usage after reading The Cell. I suffered through a set of novels about being jaded after he was hit by a car while jogging. And blurted out loud more than once "get over it already!"

I agonized though his dry-out when he stopped drinking and stopped writing gore and started writing sci-fi and ... this new version of American Horror. I hungrily consumed his "bottom of the drawer" stories when he was having a hard time with new material. His movies either thrilled me or pissed me off. Lawnmower Man - I wanted to take a blade to the director for what they did to this story. Pet Cemetery, Carrie, Secret Window and The Shining were all fantastic screen adaptations. Haven is my favorite tv show and is reminiscent of Twin Peaks. It's not written by SK, but based on one of his short stories. I think it is a good homage to his fundamental story ideas. I hope this story line never ends ... but that it ends enough so we know "who done it." You bet your ass I'll be watching this one, too!

Through it all, I kept reading. I will always keep reading. You don't go this far into something and give up completely just because you're bored. Especially when you might be surprised and get the hell scared out of you one more time.

The newest novel to hit my doorstep is "11/22/63." No spoiler alert... I'm not very far into the book. It's a story about a dying man that owns a diner and finds a portal into the 50's and tries convincing a local teacher to go to the past and change history by befriending Lee Harvey Oswald and attempts to stop the JFK assassination. Sci-Fi, history... horror? There are 800+ pages in this monster of a book. It's a HUGE novel. So far, it's a good read. Unlike most SK books, this one dove right into the plot. I usually have 100+ pages to warm up and get into the characters heads before plunging the knife into someone. Not this time. Knowing I have 700+ pages left, I wonder where this book will take me.

Knowing how often I am able to get time for reading... I'll be happy if I can get it done by spring. I'm not for hauling it back and forth to work for fear I will damage it - and my occasional lunch is the only real time I have for reading. But knowing King, I'll get another 200 pages in and not be able to put it down. I'm kinda counting on it.

Junkins

2011-11-15T09:00:00.000-05:00

I know ... I know... Halloween was 2 weeks ago. I'm a little slow at getting recent pics uploaded.

This year for Halloween, I borrowed the idea of making a junk pumpkin rather than carving it. Disney Family Magazine... you are my inspiration and often my boredom savior! Worth every penny. I've used more ideas from this magazine than any other parenting/family magazine. Over the last 11 years of parenting, there have been many... this one rocks.

I raided Grandad's garage the week prior and the our garage the Night of the Creating. It was SUPER fun! My kids loved pounding stuff into the pumpkins WAY more than carving and scooping out the guts. No one got hurt and I wasn't worried someone would saw off a finger by mistake.

Itchy entered his in his school's Fall Ball Pumpkin Contest and won for his grade!! His was an alien/scared person pumpkin.

Scratchy decided his needed a mustache and by the time he was done, we referred to his as the Mr. Pringles Pumpkin.

This is something we will definitely do again next year!

My Top 10 WTF?!

2011-11-12T10:00:00.000-05:00

Vera Bradley. Overpriced cloth, quilt-like handbags, wallets, pillows and ... shit ... that has paisley or floral designs and looks like something that was once on my grandmother's bed? No, even she has better taste than that. I'm all for money going to breast cancer awareness. How about I give Susan G Komen $100 and you keep your ugly bag? I have no interest in toting around a blanket for a purse. Nor will I give my children one. It's not a status symbol. It's tacky. Note: I was given a Vera Bradley coin pouch/wallet thingy for my birthday last year. It was small and the design un-offensive. I can tolerate this one piece in my life. And it was given to me by a kick-ass lady. So I'll respect the gift. And it is useful.
Reality shows based on people just because they are snobby, wealthy, upper-class (not by their manners) drama queens and the cult-following they create. It's like Jerry Springer for the other end of the socio-economic society.
Odd flavored things. Like bacon flavored gum, garlic ice cream, cinnamon M&M's, and other things I would not normally put together. Yuck.
People that still have mullets. Common now. Join the new millennium and at least get a Beiber.
People that have gigantic-long fingernails. Like the Guinness Book people. How do you go to the bathroom? Or eat? Or type? Or text? Or scratch with those things?!
The outcomes of certain football games. Being a Bears fan, you would think I was used to it.
5:50 am. Because it's a bullshit time to wake up when my alarm is about to go off in 10 minutes. And the rest of the day I feel robbed of those 10 minutes.
Getting up before 9 am on the weekends. (See also #7 above.) I'm a girl that loves her time in her fluffy, warm, cozy, snuggly bed. And my hobby is sleeping. I've spent a large majority of my life never being able to sleep in - having babies at 21 will do that to you. Now that my kids are old enough to get up, make their own breakfast and be self-sufficient for an hour in the morning, mama deserves to sleep in.
People that go to Walmart and are the exact kind of people you would expect to see there. Sometimes I think they are trying to get posted on the website.
Men in yoga pants. Just don't do it. Your manly boxers don't keep your bits 'n' pieces in place. Even if you have a great, chiseled body. Wear athletic pants like the rest of the decent men. Oh - and women, leave the tight yoga pants at home, too. Your camel toe and never-ending wedgie is not cute. Neither is your whale tale. Wear appropriate undergarments.

Remodeled

2011-11-10T10:00:00.000-05:00

In 2008, I bought my first house. It was a big, 80 year old, 2-story house with a full basement. It was beautiful! The problem - it was a foreclosed house and the previous owners were oblivious to the concept of cleaning. So the renovations began.

In the three years I lived in that house I:

I cleaned the hell out of every single room. Bleach, anti-bacterial cleaning, scrubbing. I wore out 2 pairs of gloves and gave myself carpel tunnel from all the cleaning.
Installed a new water heater and stove The original (original 1940's) stove was still in use in the kitchen.
New stove required calling my dad down to help install gas lines to the kitchen for the new gas (not electric - yuck!) stove.
Painted every single room. All 10 of them, 2 full hallways, closets and the entire basement. Ceilings, too. And most all of the trim - with oil. That's hardcore painting.
Had the floors on the ground level re-done. Sanded and sealed with tung oil.
Tore out the existing basement flooring tile by agonizing tile. Tore out 1/3 of the walls and refinished the drywall and baseboards myself. There was a broken pipe at some point and the basement flooded. And molded. It was gross. The moldy stuff was removed before I moved in.
Paid someone to install the carpet in the basement. I'm no fool, that's hard ass work!
Had the exterior windows scraped and painted. (One of the only projects the He Ex actually finished.)
Painted the shutters, exterior doors, exterior doorways.
Replaced light fixtures, installed 2 ceiling fans, replaced every light switch and electrical outlet.
Made curtains for every single room. By hand (well, with my sewing machine). That's 20+ windows and a bay window. Even with all the work, I will never buy curtains again. I'd rather make them myself and save that money for something fun. Like a bottle or three of wine to drink while enjoying my fancy pants curtains.
Had a friend help me finish the walls on the 3-season screened in porch.
Refreshed the flower beds, added some landscaping, cut down 3 (smaller) trees.
Had a pantry installed where there was a small, shallow broom closet.
Had the back door area converted into a small mud-room for coats & shoes.

And about 7,809 other small details that add up to "oh, that's nice. (what did she do?)" Now it's for sale and I sit back and wait for the economy to try to rebound enough to get people loans. Interest is only good if there is money out there in the market to loan them.

Now I'm on to the new house which will get paint, curtains, landscaping, etc. etc.

What Happens in Vegas...

2011-11-08T10:00:00.000-05:00

About a month after Captain and I started dating, he asked me if I wanted to join him and his cousin on a trip to Vegas. My initial reactions were: 1. Um... just started dating you and you want to take me to Vegas? 2: Hell Yeah! Vegas Baby! 3. Why are you impulsively going to Vegas? (Red Flags?!)

Answer to #3: The Colts were going to the Superbowl. He and his cousin have a pact that whenever the Colts go to the Superbowl, they will go to Vegas to bet on the game.

After some scrambling to get my mom to watch the kids and the logistics figured out, I agreed and a couple weeks later we were off the Vegas.

There were 3 conditions to Vegas enforced by my mom:

1. No Tattoos

2. No Jail

3. NO GETTING MARRIED

Seemed easy enough. While I have a tattoo and plan to get more, I'm not impulsive like that. I'm not one to do something dumb enough to get myself in jail (those of you with old stories proving otherwise, I impose a gag order!) And I have no intentions of getting married. Shit, we hadn't been divorced a year and had only been exclusive with each other for a month or two. Sheesh...

We stayed 3 nights at the Bellagio. One night at Circus Circus (and it was a freaking circus. I'm glad my memories of that hotel are foggy). We caught a fabulous show. I learned to gamble. I even won (a little). I was able to see my guy "in his element."

We even took a side trip to Red Rock Canyon and hiked to see a waterfall in the desert. I fell in the creek. Shocker.
It was beautiful and the walk outside in the desert and through the rocks was amazing.

Freemont Street was one of my favorite places. That's where all the original casino's are located. It's also the only place you can play nickel slots with nickel's! Gambling and casinos are all electronic now, so slot machines work with credit card-like scanners rather than real money. You even load your card with a card... and you can gamble without ever touching real money.

We'd wake up late morning and be on the go until 2-3am. I saw more strip clubs, odd street shows, creepy people, "escorts," and fancy-pants stores than any other time in my life. I came home without any new ink, no jail record and not married. Just like mom said.

Texas Here We Come!

2011-11-04T10:00:00.000-04:00

I'm going to visit one of my favorite places - Texas!

Next week Captain and I are taking a couple personal days in Houston to visit with a long-time teacher friend and will spend the remainder of the week and the weekend on Galveston Island working at a conference. An island. On the Gulf Coast. Where it's not hella Midwest cold.

Grammy's coming up to spend the week taking care of my little beasties and will even get some grandbaby time in with Captain's kids. Thankfully the She Ex agreed to a few Grammy visitations. We (probably more me than Captain) weren't hopeful she'd let Grammy see his kids. She didn't think Grammy could handle 4 kids at the same time ... though mine are 11 and 7 and pretty self-sufficient. And the little ones being 2 and 4 aren't exactly infants. I think she was just looking for an excuse not to have to deal with any of it. (No flame throwing, this is my opinion.)

I digress...

I'm goin' to Texas! For SIX DAYS!

I know ... it's really hard work. But somebody's gotta do it.

I've visited Texas at least 8 times in the last 10 years for various art teacher conferences and workshops. It has never been a disappointment. I love the people, the cities - Austin, Houston, Clear Lake , Galveston, San Antonio, Dallas and Fort Worth (ie. Dallas's Siamese twin), the food and the warm weather.

Don't worry... like always, I work ahead and will keep the stories coming while I am away!

Dropping the Bomb

2011-11-02T10:00:00.000-04:00

Last weekend we hit the kids with some bullshit reality.

We told them about their Grandad. Well, Grandad told them about himself.

In order to preserve what little childhood we can and not to scare them, but start to prepare them for the inevitable, we told them that Grandad is sick (they knew it already, he had been sick for at least a year) and that this time he was not going to get better. He has cancer and the doctors can not fix it.

He told the boys that he was not feeling well. He was tired. He did not know what was going to happen. He was probably going to get more sick someday.

We did not say death, dying or anything about a "timeline." Last time I checked, we were not created with an expiration date stamped on the bottom of our foot.

Cancer is a scary word for kids. It's scary for adults... but kids have it worse. Adults can process the reality and the odds of this disease. For kids dealing with it, cancer is more scary than the boogeyman. Adults hear Pancratic Cancer and sigh, offer sympathy, hugs, nod and look away. Kids hear cancer and suck in a breath, their eyes fill with tears, they look at you for hope. It's heartbreaking.

The boys took it okay. We let them lead the conversation after telling them he was sick and answered at their age level. They didn't have much to ask. Not yet. It glazed over Itchy who only heard that Gandad was sick and not feeling well. Scratchy soaked more of the subliminal cues and will process it more over the next few weeks and months.

There will be a lot of talks about cancer. About how it's bullshit. About anger and about grieving.

Hospice has been amazing. We have books for each of the kids to write out their feelings and prompts to help them process something so much bigger than them. They offer counseling for us, the kids, even the Old Man's dog. The safety net and the support system is already building.

________________________________________

"Everyone celebrates the firsts in life. No one prepares you for celebrating the lasts."

Halloween in Numbers

2011-11-01T10:08:00.000-04:00

4: total number of ghouls we took trick or treating
2: number of kids that were going trick or treating for the first time
24: accumulative age of the little ghouls
70: accumulative age of the adults
1: hours it took to make and eat dinner
15: minutes it took for 4 kids to go potty and hop into costumes
168: pictures taken of the kids over 2 hours

1: tired Baby Girl that bundled up in the wagon after a coughing fit and let Itchy & Scratchy collect candy for her
4: articles of winter clothing I left the house with (mittens, scarf, headband/ear warmer, coat)
2: articles of winter clothing I returned to the house with (coat, mittens) Baby Girl had my scarf, Scratchy had my ear warmers
3: complaints from the kids about being cold
17: complaints about sore feet
0: requests to go home

3: bags of candy bought for trick-or-treaters
5: number of kids that we gave candy to
2.75: number of bags leftover
3: pieces of candy each kid devoured last night
10+: pounds of candy stashed away so the kids won't eat it all at once
75: months it will take to consume all this candy!

4: worn out, tired, happy kids that went to bed dreaming about candy, giggles and how many days until next year.

The Unknown Soldier

2011-10-31T09:03:00.002-04:00

Last weekend I went to Gettysburg for work. There's not a whole lot of anything in Gettysburg unless you are into the Civil War, war reenactments and miniatures. I'm not. But there is a cemetery.
Specifically the Gettysburg National Cemetery.

While my step-dad and brothers were in the Navy and I'm sure way back somewhere there are military men in my other side of the family, I was not raised in a military family. None the less, I have a profound respect for Vets and for military families.

This is the oldest portion of the cemetery for WWI and Spanish-American War soldiers.

The opposing side of the graves were for the soldier's spouses.

Plaques similar to this one were all around the park. This was my favorite.

It was next to the Unknown Soldier portion.

There was one central stone for the Unknown Soldiers of the Civil War.

There was a separate stone for each of the 18 Union States.

While they don't have names, dates or traditional tombstones, they have numbers. These are for the Union soldiers that died in the Civil War and form a circle around the central monument.

It was also the sight of Lincoln's Gettysburg Addesss. The Lincoln Memorial in DC was very moving for me to see, and this was not an exception. There is something about Lincoln that I find fascinating. So being on the same sight where he delivered his monumental speech was bad ass for me.

Camping and Scouting

2011-10-21T10:00:00.000-04:00

I love, love, love camping. Spending all my time outside, cooking over a fire, listening to the world around me while I sleep, the fresh air and smell of campfires... some people aren't into getting dirty and outhouses... but I'll take it over a hotel (as long as the weather is warm and the mosquitoes aren't swarming too bad.) any day.

I have learned a lot about camping with the Scouts. Most of it basic like how to set up a tent and how to identify poison ivy. Some of it more advanced like first aid, cooking for an army of starving boys, how to pack a backpack for a hike and how to get the tent in the too-freaking-small, this-is-impossible!! bag.

This summer, I learned how to canoe. Something I had not done since I was a kid. I re-learned where to sit on a canoe (and where NOT to sit) and that Itchy and I can beat Scratchy and his 12 year-old best friend in a race. Cuz we're one bad ass team. I also learned that Scout campgrounds are freaking awesome! And why I will continue to pay $200-300 (each) for my kids to go here for a week every year.

I've learned how to make a fire properly - even in the rain. How to keep it going all day and night. How to cook damn-near anything on an open fire with just a skillet and a Dutch oven. Like tacos, lasagna, chocolate chip cookies, chili, anything. Camp food is more than hot dogs and foil hobo dinners. I learned how to keep kids safe around the fire and to teach them how to teach others to be safe. And most recently, how NOT to dry out shoes near a fire. That lesson resulted in an emergency trip to Walmart for new shoes for Itchy. Oops.

I learned how to slow down. To let my kids get dirty. To look out over the lake and watch the bugs and frogs. To let my boys throw the hook in one more time mom, please!!! I learned to identify fish and where is the most likely place to catch the turtles hanging out.

(Itchy - 5 years-old and Scratchy 7 years-old. Raised around the fire.)

I learned how to make the perfect roasted marshmallow and that s'mores aren't always chocolate, mallows and graham crackers. Sometimes a chocolate-dipped cookie (like the Girl Scout Thanks A Lot's) make everything soooo much better! Never underestimate the power of a s'more on your attitude!

I learned the importance of the buddy system. After all, everything is more fun when it's more than just you!

If you have not been camping for a long time... get some friends, some gear and make a reservation as far away from the "mass parking lot" sites as you can. It's cheaper than you think and you'll take away more from it than mosquito bites and some dirty clothes. Even with my bum-ankle and the threat of rain (every freaking time for the last 2 years) can not keep me away.

Cub Scouts

2011-10-19T10:00:00.000-04:00

About 4 years ago, I started looking into extra curricular activities for my kids. I wanted Scratchy to branch out. He was in 2nd grade and needed something non-school. And at that time he was homeschooled. So he needed to get out. Money was then - and always will be - an issue. I didn't want to drop $40 on a month of classes, plus equipment, plus a fund raiser, plus snacks, plus time off work... It needed to be affordable.

I was hesitant. I heard Boy Scouts were anti-gay. Pre-military. Racist. Closed-minded. Religious extremists. Things I did not want for my kid. I could not believe it was all like that though.

I asked around. I called people. I got opinions. Nerdy me... I researched.

I did want the "guy" experience for my kid though. Archery, camping, shooting, fishing, building things. His dad... well ... isn't the rugged man's-man type of guy. Nothing wrong with that. But I felt my kids needed a stronger male role model. Or at least choices when it came to what Man Path to take in life.

Scouts was an obvious choice. My dad was an Eagle Scout. I was a Girl Scout for many years. And my poor Scratchy is not athletically inclined. Like his mother, he has bad eyes and the reflexes of a drunk cat. Sports was not an option.

So I went to a meeting and checked it out. Scratchy fell into step with the other high-strung boys. I didn't know about other groups, but this one was a great fit. We signed up that night.

We have been involved with Scouts ever since. I took on the Tiger Den Leader position - 4 years strong! Then the newsletter, camping trip coordination and recruitment. In a couple months, I will take on the position of Committee Chair (ie. head-paper-pusher).

I watched my kids learn to fish.

First aid and how to be aware of their weather - and plan for it.

To set up a tent and to cook over a fire.

I watched both my sons earn hard-earned awards and advancements.

Scratchy earned his Arrow of Light (the highest award a Cub Scout can earn).

To make goals and to achieve them.

To care about our community and come up with ideas to help make it a better place.

Service. Charity. Pride. Integrity.

I'm forever grateful for Scouting. I am most grateful that with all our help and support, other kids will be able to have the same life-lessons and experiences.

Grateful

2011-10-17T08:50:00.004-04:00

The last couple days I have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. I'm tired in so many ways.

Crabby as I might be today, most of all I feel grateful. Grateful for:

My kids.

My Itchy who lights up my life, snuggles with me, holds my hand, never stops buzzing for attention and works harder than he lets on.
My Scratchy who holds my heart tight, finally flipped the Brain On switch, is pulling himself together, getting his grades up, calming down and making me proud.
Monkey and Baby Girl - who constantly challenge me as a parent, remind me that you have to work for what you want, remind me to look at the world like it's new - because it's most beautiful that way.

Captain.. He can read my moods with a glance and never tires of trying to make me laugh and smile. Somehow, he always knows and knows how to react. We may be twisted, but he is my rock.
My parents - all of them. Step parents, adopted parents, long-distance parents, in-law parents. Without their support, love, hand-me-downs and listening ears... I'd be screwed.
Second chances. And third chances. And tenth chances. Because sometimes you have to keep trying different things until the right one clicks.
The color pink. Because I used to hate it. Then something changed my mind. And change is good.
Audiobooks. I could never make the trips to Michigan and stay awake without something interesting to listen to.
Reflection. And the time to reflect. And the people that help you remember.

Teachers

2011-10-14T14:15:00.003-04:00

At dinner last night, Itchy stopped eating, looked up at me slyly - like the little ~~monster~~ darling had a secret and said casually, "Mom, did you know the teachers party when all the kids leave at the end of the day?"

"Oh really?"

"Yep." He takes a couple more bites.

"Did your teacher tell you that?"

"Yeah." [pause] "But I think she's lying."

"Why do you say that?"

Itchy shrugs his shoulders.

I gave him his logical answer. "I think teachers have a lot of paperwork and stuff to do after school. They probably don't party."

Itchy gives me his crooked yeah-I-know smile. "Yeah."

You could tell he knows the teachers do work after school, but he likes to think that the teachers turn the school into a nightclub as soon as the last kiddo walks out the door.

Lighting a Candle

2011-10-05T12:11:00.001-04:00

I am stealing this post idea from my bad-ass sister-in-law. I think I stole her pic, too. We have some of the same subjects heavy on our minds and she put it very well. Thanks Corey, love you!

People get sick and it sucks. People get really sick and it really sucks. People get terminally sick and it makes me want to tear out my hair and scream about the injustice of it all. Cancer is bullshit. And you don't really know how much bullshit it is until it's sitting at your doorstep refusing to leave until it takes someone with it.

Maybe we don't hear about "bad people" like serial killers being terminally ill because we may see some sort of justice in it. But we do hear about the people we love, the people we know, the "good people" like our loved ones getting diseases. Getting sick. Good people dying. More bullshit.

It makes me sad. Angry. Irritated. Frustrated. Stressed about the upcoming events and how to deal with them. How to explain it to my kids that their Grandad, who they love and look up to, is sick. The kind of sick that doctors can't fix. It pisses me off.

Then I look at the guy that IS the one that is sick. The guy with the watch winding down and days limited. The guy that probably won't see another birthday. He's happy. He's peaceful. He's enjoying his life. He is doing things that make him happy and still doing the day-to-day life chores. He gets up every morning and decides that today will be a good day because he's breathing air and pumping blood. THAT is enough to make it a good day. In his words "Why not make the best of it?"

I can take a lesson from him about life. Live it. It's not worth dwelling on the petty bullshit. It really is that easy.

Your days are numbered, too. You just don't know what that number is. Are you willing to let your guilt, anger, hatred poison and fester within you and bring you down when you may not have a tomorrow? I'm not.

This weekend I took a deep breath, looked around and decided to let a lot of things go. If I can't change the situation, I can at least change my attitude about it.

I know I will forget this lesson once and a while. I hope someone or something reminds me. I'm sure it will come in the form of seeing a bottle of Crown Royal, sail boats, an Irish joke, lobster, acorns falling on my head in the fall, old Chevy trucks, NASCAR races, the smell of a mechanic's garage, the "o-n/o-f-f " switch or any of the other million things that remind me of the Old Man. Those little things will remind me to "calm the fuck down," take a deep breath and let it go.

I'll light my candle and hope for him to have a safe, calm, peaceful journey, healing hearts, strength for my brothers, their families, Captain, my Little Darlings and myself.

Just because it sucks does not mean you can't find something good in it.

__________________________________________
Support a good cause - a web resource for those dealing with all levels of things that suck bad:

Cancer Is Bullshit
I Kicked Cancer's Ass

And tell your story here if you have one. Pass it on.

10 Things About Me

2011-09-29T14:25:00.001-04:00

Yeah, that's me attempting to eat a concrete ear of corn . Or I'm screaming. You pick.

1. My favorite fairy tale is Peter Pan. I have no interest in men with Peter Pan Syndrome, however. The concept of escaping to a place where imagination rules and fun is still fun is badass.

2. I can't eat dairy foods. Yup. I'm lactose intolerant. It sucks. I miss ice cream and banana splits and oreo's and milk. And cheese. And chip dip. And spinach dip.

3. I hate the sound of people eating. Chomping, chewing, slurping sounds make me all stabby.

4. I like wacky socks. Printed, colored, wonky styled and patterned socks. Love love love them. I have very few regular socks. And I don't match them to my outfit.

5. I sing in the car. And in the store. And while pumping gas. If I like the song that's playing, I'll probably sing it.

6. I'm a terrible singer. I'm aware of it and keep my volume low. You're welcome.

7. I'm a breakfast eater. I need calories in the morning. My favorite - Coco Wheats. Mmmmm!!

8. Not much grosses me out. I have a strong stomach, grew up with two nasty brothers and have two boys of my own. Icky, sticky, nasty, poopy, slimy, ooey, gooey stuff does not bother me much. Talking about it does not bother me either. Just don't make me smell it Then I might yack.

9. I have a ridiculously sensitive nose (per Captain.) I can usually smell something is "off" before anyone else can.

10. I get antsy if I don't create something once and a while. Blogging, crafting, painting, sewing, creating something. My creative side turns into a monster if it can't get out once and a while.

Homework Blues

2011-09-27T11:29:00.004-04:00

We have the homework Bluey Blues at our house. Scratchy is struggling to keep up, keep organized, keep in touch with his teachers and follow through. Missing a week of school because he was sick has killed what decent grades he had... 6th grade is knocking him on his ass.

Now our evening are full of Suck. Stinky, nasty, slimy, ooey gooey Suck.

He's overwhelmed and does not want to do homework 3 hours a night. I kinda don't blame him. I also kinda don't care.

You gotta do what needs to be done. He went from almost all A's to almost all C's with a sprinkling of D's and F's. We have to fix this.

He's growing. And eating non-stop. And tired. All. The. Time. When my boys grow, they have the intellectual abilities of an amoeba. And they're not the best kids in the world when they're tired. It's not pretty. And this one can last years.

YEARS. WTH? Freaking puberty. Years of goofball brain, insane eating, exhaustion? It's like having a gigantic, walking, (back)talking toddler that does not take naps.

*sigh*

We give him all the tools, reminders, notes, conversations, discipline, rewards to help him succeed. He totally drops the ball once he leaves the house. He does his work, but forgets to turn it in. He studies for a make-up test, but forgets to schedule it with the teacher.

You can teach a man to fish, but if he's too lazy to throw the line in the water, you kinda want to punch him in the face for complaining that he's hungry.

I'm grateful that Captain is completely involved, taking the initiative to look up his grades, following up with Scratchy about assignments, picking up where I might fall slack or overlook. It also shows Scratchy that it's not just him vs. mom. It's him vs. a united family front. For the first time. Even Captain's mom followed up with Scratchy about his homework and how he is doing. He's learning he's going to have to answer to a lot of people about his grades.

Until he gets it. I'm re-learning 6th grade math and social studies. We're practicing dividing fractions and decimals. Learning about the Mayan civilizations. And praying he will turn in his homework and get on the upswing of school again.

Being the no-fun-till-work's-done mom sucks.

Holding On Too Tight

2011-09-26T08:44:00.001-04:00

When it comes to raising kids, I'll admit that I protect them from the real world as much as I can. I want them to be able to live in a reality full of leprechauns, unicorns, singing flowers, talking animals, fairies, super heroes and happy endings.

I want to protect their innocence as long as I can. Once it's gone, it won't be able to come back.

But sometimes the mean ole' reality of the grown up life intervenes. It cuts in line. It breaks through the shelter I built for them. The unicorns leave. The flowers die. The super heroes are just people with capes. I know it will happen, but I will fight to protect my kids innocence while I can.

I'll hold on too tight.

Because dealing with the real world is for grown ups. And often it's bullshit.

And it's coming to knock on my door. I have no choice but to answer.

Things I Don't Understand - Part 3

2011-09-14T12:00:00.000-04:00

1. Men that have beards/goatee's that are longer than the hair on their head. You're not fooling anyone. We can tell you're going bald. Your long facial hair makes it more obvious. Find a nice trimmer and clean that up. Remember "does the carpet match the drapes?" Well, you're committing and even more heinous fashion statement. And bald with a soul patch. Howie... Jeff... it's not hot. Unless you're Apolo Anton Ohno. He's the only exception. Somebody needed to tell you...

2. People that ask questions with obvious answers. This one is dedicated to Itchy, who yesterday alone asked me 735 questions that did not warrant an answer if he gave one millisecond of his own thoughts to the subject. I love you dearly and love to pay attention to you, but please, for the love of Mike... Please ... just think and look around before you open your mouth. It only takes like 2 seconds. I promise it will make you look smarter Or at least somewhat competent. And mommy loves being with you you more when you're not being all dumb.

3. Having to work the last of the few nice days of the year. For real. There should be something built into my vacation time that allows me to have 2-3 Nice Weather days off in fall and spring. It's for my mental health. And maybe your sanity. Because I'm about to get ~~annoying~~ bitchy. Can someone get on this in HR, please? I think I feel another cold coming on. And will lick your keyboard in spite.

4. The amount of drinking devices on my desk at work. 2 coffee cups, a water jug (the ice and filtered water are downstairs at the other end of the building) a cup (for said filtered ice water), a travel coffee mug (shhhh... don't tell. I'm not supposed to be drinking coffee for a while.) 5 potential drinking devices and I only use one at a time. Dehydration is not a problem over here! 45 trips to the bathroom in an 8 hour work day... that's another thing.

5. People that drink soda all day. And claim is't a healthy choice. Yeah, I called it soda. Because I'm a rebel like that. Seriously, don't you feel like crap at the end of the day? Have some water, or some juice. Hell, have some kool-aid. At least that has vitamin C. And stop looking at me like I'm foreign when I call it soda. Just cuz I'm in the Midwest doesn't mean I have to do what you do.

6. People that have access to recycling and don't recycle. I have a good friend that lives in the city. Pays for trash and recycling like the rest of us, but refuses to recycle. You read that right. Pays for it, refuses to use it. ... Their reason? They don't want to sort it all out and won't live long enough to have to deal with the consequences. And this person has a kid. It makes me scratch my head and sad every time.

7. People who question me when I wear a sweatshirt and it's 70 degrees. It's genetic, folks. I was born with the family's "broken thermostat." My body temp generally is around 97. I get cold if my feet are cold, if there is a draft, if there is not enough sun, if the air conditioning kicks on. I carry a hoodie or a sweater everywhere I go like an old lady. Yes, I know it's a beautiful day. Yes, I know 99% of the population thinks it's shorts & t-shirt weather. No, I'm not embarrassed about my body. No, I don't have a cold. No, I didn't forget to check the weather this morning. I'm freaking cold. I wear 2-4 shirts in the winter, leggings under my pants and usually 2 pairs of socks. It makes me look and feel like the Staypuff Marshmallow Man or the little bother, Randy, in A Christmas Story. Sexy, right? Now go away.

Sick...

2011-09-13T12:00:00.000-04:00

I think we all opened a bottle that looked something like this. We've all been sick for the last 2 weeks. Snotty, headache, crappy, yucky, fever sick.

And Scratchy is still sick. After 7 days with a fever... we've had 2 trips to the doctor and most recently lab tests... we're still waiting to see what heebie-jeebies he picked up.

In the meantime, I'm exhausted from work, caring for the healthy kids, nursing the sick kid, cub scout preparations, managing my household and the 9000 other details on my plate. I'm falling behind.

Last weekend I spent at least 6 hours cleaning the house. 6 hours cleaning, sorting, unpacking (STILL!), organizing, planning, disinfecting, etc.

This week I have cub scouts, 5 days of homework to catch up with the sicko, homework to review with the non-sicko, popcorn to pick up for cub scouts, an evening with Baby Girl and Monkey, Thursday's free... so far.

But wait - there's more! This weekend is a kid-free weekend and I'm pretty sure it will be consumes with housework, painting the old house (still...), errands and more unpacking.

My posts will probably be crap for a week or so. I need a couple days to catch up.

I also need some material... the kids just aren't as funny as they were. I think the cold has interfered with their funny bones. Topic suggestions? What do you want to hear about in my wandering life,.our wacked-out family life, our medical maladies, step-parenting, weird stuff we have done???

Sisters

2011-09-10T10:00:00.000-04:00

The oldest pic I can find of just my two sisters. Aren't they freaking adorable?!

A (9) & V (5)

The cool thing about having little sisters is an adult is that I can appreciate them for more than just being little people around my legs at family functions. Though we are almost 20 years apart in age, we are closer in our hearts. It's also cool that I get my "girl time" in. Having only sons of my own, it's bad ass to have a girly party and do girly little girl stuff.

My first half-sister was added to my family tree when I was 19. She came into the world demanding to be the star and determined to get her way. Now 14, she is still that way. Smart, clever, athletic, bossy, mother hen to anyone her age (or height) and younger. The first 4 years of her life, I did not go more than 5 days without seeing her. She was born during a dark point in my life and quickly became a beacon to my inner self.

She is the girl that refuses to wear dresses. She dislikes frilly girly things. Is wicked smart and can kick your butt at just about anything - because competition runs in her veins and she Will. Not. Loose. She is the introvert, the passive girl that keeps it all inside. The one that is mentally more mature than any teenager I have ever known. The teacher's pet. The one striving for people to be proud of her.

My second half-sister came into my life while I was living in Minnesota. I had a kiddo of my own by then and being 12 hours away meant I missed out on a lot of her childhood. She was not a toddler that took to people well. She was picky about the company she kept. But she knew we were good and there were no barriers between us. Independent, confident and determined to never be left behind, this little girl proved she could - and would - do anything.

She is the girls that has no fear. She will dress up like a princess and dance around. She likes arts and crafts and girly frilly foo-foo stuff. Tease her and she will put you in your place and can knock you out. Having a competitive sister has taught her to be a fighter. She is tough and stubborn but wears her heart on her sleeve. She might kick your butt for messing with her or anyone in her family, but it will break her heart at the same time.

My sisters are now 14 and 10. While I have moved closer, I now live 3 hours away and only see them a few times a year. It's total crap. I should be there for every soccer game, every volleyball game, every choir and band concert, every piano practice and rough day. I wish I were able to be closer.

I love my little sisters with all my heart. And I love that I get to be a big sister to two of the coolest, most amazing young people in the world.

The Multi-Purpose Gift

2011-09-09T10:00:00.000-04:00

As I was getting ready for work the morning of my birthday, Itchy bounces into the bedroom with a plastic grocery bag and something bobbling around in it.

"Hey mom!" (I told you all conversations start this way) "Here you go!"

"What is THIS?" I might have been playing it up a little too much. but hey, that's my job.

"Your birthday present. I made it myself just for you!" Homemade presents tend to be double-edged swords. they're either beautiful, thoughtful and something I will keep forever. Or ... something more like this.

I open my gift bag and see: an empty oatmeal can covered in loads of bright, colorful sticky foam flowers, a cereal box? glued to the bottom, twine looped though it for a kind-of handle and a cat toy (at least it looks like a cat toy) inside.

"WOW! I love it! You worked really hard on this!" I deserve an Academy Award for this.

"Thanks mom! The nail scratched it a little here and that part was hard" Visions of Itchy using a hammer and nail on an oatmeal can flashing through my mind. Ohno Ohno Ohno. Breathe... "Happy birthday mom!"

"Umm... can you explain it to me? What is it?"

Absolutely straight faced - "I don't know." pause ... he looks at the gift thoughtfully - like this was the first time he had ever seen it. "You can hang it, but the handles are too short. Or you can put stuff into it, I guess. I really don't know what it's for."

"You put a lot of thought into this." At least he thought about making me something. He is so happy to make me happy.

Proudly - "Yup" Damn, my kid is cute. Moments like this make parenting worth it.

"It's perfect! I love it! Thanks!" Red carpet, here I come.

He bounces out of the room all smiles and full of happiness because he made me happy.

I quickly send a pic to DinDC to share this parenting moment. The text conversation went like this:

DinDC: What is it?

Me: No clue. There is an (old) cat toy inside. It means a lot to him and he put love into it and that's what matters to me.

DinDC: Absolutely. I guess my brain goes, "he gave it to me, so I should use it. Wait, how do I use it?"

Me: default answer = decoration

DinDC: that makes sense

------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I have a lovely decorative container, hangy-thingy made with love and care by my darling 7 year old boy.

It's a step up from Mother's Day 2010 - I received an ~~abstract sculpture~~ snowman, snowball, log that was carefully? crafted out of white clay and fired with a tan glaze. The result - a ceramic sculpture that looks like poop. Literally. Ceramic poop.

It's My Birthday!

2011-09-08T14:00:00.000-04:00

Happy Birthday To Me!

Today I ~~will~~ might try to ...

Add another year to my age (which I never remember anyway) "30 something" is as good as my memory gets.
Watch football - the best present from the TV- the NFL is giving me football! Go Saints! (Sorry Captain)
Have a glass of wine with dinner. Because it's my birthday, after all.
Celebrate my time with my boys and Captain
Attempt to think of something I could be doing this weekend that would constitute "me time" - but not including watching TV.
Do something silly
Not do chores - because I did them all yesterday. Just so I can take today "off." Bur I'm a mom, so you know how that goes.
Buy myself a birthday cake. Because it always works out that way, and I'm ~~not really~~ kinda okay with it.
I might buy myself some flowers, too. Cuz I can.
Put together my weekend vacation photo album. - For my birthday present, Captain took me to Brown County for the weekend. It was wonderful, relaxing and romantic. We have such great memories of our trips there. I can't wait to go back again!

Mooo... On My Plate??

2011-09-07T14:00:00.000-04:00

So... I've been feeling like total bunk lately. Health wise. Like for a few months. And off and on for a few years. I attributed it to motherhood. All moms are exhausted, sleepy, worn out, fatigued. Add to that my severely sprained ankle (5 months ago) that has still not completely healed and I'm a mess.

One day my inner good-do-bee and lifesaver decided to donate blood while I was at the hospital for a check-up. I was refused because my iron levels were low. Bummer. I chalked it up to my girly-cycle and went about my life.

A few months later I got a cold. And got dizzy. And was down on the couch for 3 days. That never happens to me. So I went to the doctor thinking I had an inner ear thing. I mentioned the donating blood incident. He suggests some blood tests. No biggie. I figured he'd tell me to eat better and take some antibiotics.

In the interim I go on vacation for 3 wonderful days. I'd be a liar if I was not worried a little. Like the entire time I was gone. But I didn't dwell on it. I enjoyed my time with Captain (aka - The Best Guy Ever!) and the trip he planned for my birthday (tomorrow!) It was amazing. He is amazing.

I get home and get my results. They're not fabulous. they're not good. They're not even sorta okay.

I have severe anemia. Probably close to being in the hospital anemia. At least that's what my obsessive internet research was telling me. My doctor used words like "extremely concerned, " "strict regimen" and "follow-up testing." Humph.

So now I am altering my diet. Adding pills and things I don't enjoy taking. And needing to eat foods I don't love. Foods like my friend Mr. Cow. I've never been a big red meat eater. I pretty much hated it when I was a kid. But I guess it's better than liver and oysters.

Sorry Mr. Cow, you're going to be on my grill and on my plate sooner rather than later. Trust me, I'm not delighted about it either. But with some steak sauce and some mashed tatoes you and I will get along just fine.

And it turns out that I'm not lazy or lethargic. I was truly sick. Who woulda thunk it?

The Time I Fell Off The Swing

2011-08-31T14:58:00.001-04:00

I can admit when I do something dumb. I do dumb stuff all the time. I'm kinda an expert at making people look twice, scratch their heads, sigh, then shake their heads as they walk away talking to someone (anyone) about what they just saw. I'm not exactly proud of it. It's just something I have come to accept about myself. This acceptance makes it easier for me to share my Moment of Humiliation with the Internet.

I have a MAD love for swinging.

I practically lived on my swing set as a kid and swinging at the beach was one of the few times in my teenage years I can remember being euphoric. The freedom, the horizon drifting off beneath my feet, the weightlessness as I fall back to the earth, the danger of being so high on something so small and only holding on by a small chain. For me, swinging was happiness, exercise and therapy all bundled into one. And who doesn't love to embrace their inner child?

So there was this one time... Captain and I were at a local park for lunch or a walk or something date-like. I was dressed up all cute in sandals, skirt and blouse. My hair was down (a rare sight in the summer). I saw the swings and immediately turned into a 6 year-old and wanted to swing. I jumped on and started swinging. Captain sat on the other swing and gave it a halfhearted attempt. Clearly swinging is not a passion of his.

So Captain gets off the swings and starts walking around clearly ~~dazzled by my awesome swinging skills~~ bored. In an attempt to be Super Cute Flirty Girl, I flip my hair back I'm super cuuuutee! Swinging so high! In my cute little skirt and sandals!! Look at me!!

I didn't even realize that I was letting go of the swing.

The next events happened in super slow motion, but took all of 3 seconds:

I realize I am no longer holding onto the swing. With either hand. Oh crap! No hands? WTH?!
I see that I am not looking up at the trees, I am looking down. At the sandy pit under my swing. At the GROUND! Physics class lectures flash though my head. something about gravity... centrifugal force... this is going to hurt.
GRAVITY! I slip off the swing and land face down in the dirt. Literally. THUD
Pause ... Did he see that? Will he come help me? Am I hurt? Oh God, is he laughing?!
I roll over, spit the sand and dirt out of my mouth. I look up and Captain is looking down at me.
He holds out his hand and helps me up. Yep, he totally saw that. But at least he's not laughing. Is he? I can't even look him in the eye.
Not sure if I should laugh or cry from embarrassment. I laugh. Hysterically. Oh yeah, he's totally laughing now. I'm an idiot.

I just fell. Off. The. Flipping. Swings! I'm in my 30's!! Captain helps me up and to the car where I am inspected for injury, dusted off, handed a couple band-aids.

To this day when we go by the park, he reminds me of that one time I fell off the swings.

How long does it take people to forget things like this?

Signs

2011-08-30T14:00:00.000-04:00

There needs to be more signs like this in the world. Cuz it just makes you smile when you read it.

WTH was THAT all about?

2011-08-29T14:00:00.006-04:00

Okay, so Friday night was a little bit of hell. Here's what went down:

I get home to find my kids playing nicely. I'm suspicious. And then it began:

* Scratchy only did 1/2 his chores and 1/2 his homework.
* I can't figure out what to do about dinner because Captain's kids are not feeling well. Do I cook? Or just wait?
* Captain gets home and I hear the SLAM of the garage door. Falling off it's hinges. Again. Looks like that will go on the "need to get a new one soon" list. *sigh*
* Monkey is not feeling good. Attempting to wipe his nose off his face and crying intermittently.
* The dang dog won't get out from under my feet and barking.
* Dinner is leftovers. Everyone will have to deal.
* I get Monkey a movie and turn on the TV to learn Scratchy has been attempting to watch TV. It was locked out, and the lock was in the "attempts over max, please call your provider."
* So I spent a chuck of my night grounding my son and trying to calm down from yet ANOTHER rule breaking.
* Monkey then pukes. On Captain, his chair, me... bath time.
* Scratchy then tries lying to me. Gets grounded further and all his stuff removed from his room.
* Monkey is up and about playing and acting just fine. Until the Popsicle. Then that came up and Captain was there to "catch" it. Uck. Another bath. Another change of jammies.
* Itchy needs more than gentle persuasion to get showered because he thinks Monkey puked in the tub and there is no way he will shower in a tub someone puked in.

Finally all the kids get showered, teeth brushed, stories read and into bed and all is as well as it gets. I curl up on the couch and didn't make it an hour before passing out wrapped in Captain's arms thinking about how lucky I really am.

Living in the bull's eye

2011-08-27T15:54:00.001-04:00

Today's post is a guest post by my best and closest friend - dindc. Not only does she know me the longest and like no one else, but she is an amazing writer and volunteered to submit a little piece of her work! If you know dindc, this is her. Candid, raw, and the way I love her.

_________________________________________________

Hi I’m dindc, and I’m wandering the East Coast. I know Ms. Blogmaster because we met on the back of a school bus over 2 decades ago and we’ve loved each other ever since. She asked me to guestpost for the blog because she knows I write more with deadlines, and also she’s tired a lot. I’m kidless, so my tiredness is mostly hungoverness, so I’m here to pinch-hit.

So I wander the East Coast, a little. I live in that place where everyone puts their hostility. I live in a bulls-eye. Terrorists, anthrax, snipers, serial killers, and fucking wingnuts all find their way to my beloved city. When some half-baked reporter says something about “inside the Beltway thinking,” he is (inadvertently) talking about me and my family. When I see Facebook posts about the earthquake sent to “shake things up in DC,” they’re talking about my home, even if they don’t mean it. So, I, for the record:

• Live, married, and bought a house in DC

• Grew up in the hinterlands of the Upper Midwest

• Still call it pop, cuz that’s what it IS

I want to chat with you for a bit about what it means to live here. First, you get (my personal) history. Then you get (my interpretation) of the context. Then, hopefully you get (insert cute puppy pics) my response to it all. I may just fuck this up. I’m good like that.

When I moved to DC, I was fresh out of college (I moved here to work at this amazing place and I will never, ever, regret it), the biggest news was about a missing intern named Chandra Levy. The advice from my family: “You’re moving to DC, please be very careful and don’t fuck a senator.” I do love that bluntness is apparently a DNA thing, but I have to say that the advice wasn’t very helpful. Mostly because I moved to DC on 8/1/11.

That shit in September changed everything, yo. I’ve never been so scared in my life. I had friends in NYC. I had coworkers with NYC connections. I had to tamp down a rumor in Indianapolis that I’d died, because of an innocent email I sent talking about how I drove past the Pentagon on my way to work. (I actually got to use that badass Mark Twain quote. It was super-fucked.)

But then there was color-coded-terror nonsense. And anthrax. And sniper time. I was coming to grips with the fact that theatre wasn’t my full-time gig, and trying to be a 20-something-question-mark, and also trying to live… and arbitrary death was all around me. How did I manage?

Dude, I just fucking did.

When you stake your claim in a place like this, being jaded is like your first credit card. It’s gonna happen, just be responsible. I NEVER fear my death by terrorist or etc. I only worry about killing one of my fellow commuters, because people here suck out loud.

I rarely fear my death, in general. My day will come, as it comes for everyone.

The thing about living in this city, especially when you got here when I got here, is the passion. I don’t care what your beef is, when you shoot up the Holocaust Museum, or otherwise fuck with my city, I AM FUCKING COMING FOR YOU. Nothing in the world made me more fierce for this city than an attack on it. Regardless of politics (and I won’t tell you mine, but you can find my blog and figure them out), you don’t get to come to my town and make a mess.

Recently, we had an earthquake. And there’s an imminent hurricane. We say this, ‘shit happens.’ I expect to live through this. If I don’t, please know that I staked my claim on a lot of love and hope, and my life cashed in via love and chaos. Such is the world.

So... My Mom's on Facebook

2011-08-25T16:30:00.000-04:00

My mom's on Facebook. And so is my boyfriend, his entire family, my brothers, sister-in-laws (current and ex), little sister, dad, step-mom, aunts, cousins, boss, co-workers...

Even my kids great grandma has a flippin facebook page!

Benefits: I don't have to mail pictures to extended family anymore. I never write letters (never really did anyway). I don't call people and tell them what I am up to. I just post it on my FB page and everyone knows.

Drawbacks: Everyone knows. Everyone. Even mom.

That's like the etiquette police on FB specifically sent to watch YOU. You know everything you say reflects on her and she is not too far from that wooden spoon to snatch it up and smack you with it if you get out of line.

The same goes with having a blog. Gotta keep it PC, friendly, open, light-hearted, funny, and kind. Or the Internet Trolls come out. Or worse - they will call you or people you know and talk The Trash about the things that are in YOUR brain. Mom will be right there tsk-tsk'ing you for not being nice. After all, she raised you better than that.

But like my daddy taught me - if you don't want it written on a billboard for everyone to see, keep it in your head. Not on paper and not coming out of your mouth. That lesson goes hand in hand with "don't write a check your ass can't cover." That works with all aspects of life.

So... I'm aware mom's watching.

And I'll always remember what my daddy taught me.

And I'll never stop writing.

Hey Mom!

2011-08-24T14:00:00.014-04:00

In the car last night, Itchy told me a story about a close encounter with a deer at school. At least that's how the story started:

"Hey Mom!" How ALL communication with my monsters begins "We are right by my school. I saw a deer today."

"Oh really? Where?" The school is surrounded by corn fields, I was not surprised..

"It was right next to me!"

"At school? At recess or before school?" He takes the bus, his time outside the building is pretty limited. I'm starting to get concerned.

"It was by the corn field"

"The corn field? Why were you by a corn field!?" WTH?!?

"Well, I was actually on the bus." Concern gone.

"So you weren't by the corn field? And the deer wasn't really next to you?"

"Well, no. But it was really close! I think it was a baby deer." (it's August, not likely to be baby deer at this point, but I wasn't going to crush his impression... yet) "I think it was a boy ... or a girl. It was not too big and there were no bumps on it's head." (antlers?) There's no telling where the rest of this will go.

Scratchy interjects - "Obviously it was a boy or a girl. What else would it be?!"

The boys begin talking about their knowledge of deer - which is drastically lacking accuracy.

Scratchy, being the Authority on Everything Living, beings schooling Itchy on The Natural World. Itchy, being a sucker to believe everything is big brother says, feels privileged to be chosen to have such highly regarded knowledge. sigh. I'm going to have to get some animal books to do some damage control from that boy.

The First Week of School

2011-08-23T14:00:00.025-04:00

Last week was my kids first week of school. Here's a breakdown:

Monday - First Day of School!! Scratchy was off to Middle School with the Big Kids and Locker Combinations. Itchy was off to Second Grade at a new school as well. We all woke up early, got ready with plenty of time to spare. I even got to snap off a couple pics of the kids (inside, of course)

Scratchy came home with his gym shirt on - he "didn't have time" to change. *sigh*

Both boys are in love with their school, and teachers. Happiness and relief radiated from them. Success!

Tuesday - Dragging quite a bit today. The excitement of school has worn off and we are all tired.

I was scolded by the bus driver for Itchy not knowing his address. I know, I know ... it's hard... He has THREE copies with him today. Yes, I promise to work with him about it.

Scratchy won't let us be visible to the bus in the morning. Apparently yelling "I LOVE YOU BUDDY!" while being huddled behind a car in the garage does not count as "hiding." We were asked to stay in the house (so we professed our love - loudly - from the open window instead.)

Scratchy came home wearing his shirt from the first day of school because "he liked it better." He also left his homework at school. And the shirt he wore to school. And brought home 1/2 his gym clothes instead. And tore his binder.

It's Parent's Back-To-School night. Joy.

Wednesday - I don't wanna get up... ... ...

I fail to understand how 7 math problems on a worksheet ended up taking 45 minutes.

Somehow the routine of "small snack, homework & chores" was lost on the boys and After School Meals were eaten and the dishes forgotten.

The TV is now on lock-out. Sorry boys. Go read a book.

Thursday - Are you kidding? 6 am is STUPID. Why do I have to get up this early? Why can't I wear the plaid shorts with the striped shirt? But I want to wear tall, navy socks with my khaki shorts...

No, a whole bag of gummie worms is NOT a suitable "small snack."

Friday - Really, son? It's been 5 days. Can't you get up with your OWN alarm? Mama's tired.

Fine... we will stay in the house. With the windows closed. And tell you how much we love you before you leave the house. You're welcome. And you spoiled my fun. Your brother lets me stand out here and hug him before he leaves.

As Promised: Orange Creamsicle Oreo's

2011-08-19T12:01:00.002-04:00

I read about these little nummies on another blog site & had to find them. Unfortunately, they are only sold at a store I try to avoid like the plague ... Walmart. Uck. A couple weekends ago out of convenience (or created convenience because I wanted to see if they had these cookies) I ended up at Walmart. A glorious golden endcap called to me to the back of the store until I had these in my tiny basket.

See, I shop with a small basket to keep myself from buying too much. Somehow I always end up with an overflowing basket and me trying not to drop everything. It's not flattering to my image.

I picked up 2 packages, knowing how much B loves Creamsicles I though it in my best interest to have a one-bag buffer. I got home, tore open the package and tried one. Here's my review:

It's a golden cookie with vanilla and orange swirl frosting in the middle. The cookie part is nothing new. Just the standard yellow oreo cookie. The frosting in the middle has an orange-like flavor. As a whole, the cookies does not taste like a Creamsicle popsicle. Or even orange sherbet. But the frosting in the middle is num num nummy! I eat my oreo's in layers anyway, so either way I'm good with it.

The good: New orange flavor. I finally found them. The frosting peels easily. The frosting is not chalky or gritty like the traditional oreo frosting can be. I didn't get shit for buying two bags.
The bad: It does not translate completely into a Creamsicle. The orange flavor is pretty mild. It's a limited time deal.
Overall Grade: A - I'd definitely buy these again

(Note: I was not comped in any way to post this review, nor was I influenced by anything other than my taste buds and mad passion for the Oreo.)
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Next week - Neapolitan Oreo's!

10 Parenting Lessons from Red Foreman

2011-08-18T14:00:00.006-04:00

You know, the smart-mouth dad from That 70's Show. I used to think he was mean. Sexist. Rude. Then I started dealing with teenagers and it all clicked.

You don’t have to be your kids’ friend. It’s probably better you aren’t. They aren’t all that smart anyway.
Your kid being scared of you is a good thing. It keeps them out of trouble. And honest.
When your kid starts working, let them work for you. You will make them bust their ass, do it right, and you can keep tabs on where they are all day. And start asking for rent. Because you know how much they make.
It’s truly okay to look at whatever stupid thing they have done and ~~say~~ think "dumbass.”
It’s an important thing for a boy to know about his mom. That volcano can blow at any moment. Dad’s – get the kids in your corner on this one and teach them the warning signs. It’s better for everyone that way.
Kids ruin everything valuable, precious and expensive. Buy cheap stuff and tell them to be grateful. And when they break it, tell them it was the expensive one.
When you gotta say it, just say it like it is. Jibber-jabber is for monkeys.
Sometimes the best place to be is in another room. You know, the one without kids.
Kids must learn early on: football season is a season you can silently watch with me or go elsewhere. It is not time to ask 9,000 questions or ask me to make you food.
Sarcasm does a body good.

Over My Head

2011-08-17T08:16:00.001-04:00

I'm in over my head this week with 175 million little tasks and roughly 13 large tasks to do. And needed to be done yesterday. I just had to take a couple days off. Sorry my loyal readers (I need a name for you ... suggestions?)

SO... I will just leave you with an awesome picture to meditate on. Enjoy!

Yes. You are seeing two cows. Made of butter. On the moon. I love the Midwest!

Step Parenting: Part 8

2011-08-12T14:00:00.047-04:00

Gold Star #3: Time Off & The Others

It takes a village to raise a child.

Time Off. This is a perk full-time and single parents don’t really get. Blended families get (in theory) evenings and weekends without kids. Time Off. Quiet Time. Me Time.

My kids are with the He Ex every other weekend and Wednesday evenings for a few hours. He has to work before the sun comes up, so an overnight during the week isn't really an option at this point. Those are times I get to take care of myself, do my housework, run my errands, catch up on ~~Facebook~~ my blog, sleep in, do things I want and need to do, be a grown-up rather than mama, etc. In theory. Most of the time I am working, running errands or being step-mama.

For the last few months and for the majority of our relationship, we have kids all the time. One set or the other. Sometimes both. Every single day and every single night there is at least one little ~~monster~~ kiddo in the house. Sometimes I think the Ex’s do it on purpose to make sure we kids all the time – so we have no personal life or Time Off. At the same time, it’s good to be able to spend one on one time with each set of kids. It’s also TONS easier to go places and do things – like cooking – with only 2 kids under your feet and in your car. Six people don't fit well in my lil' car. A new mini van is on the shopping list. Sigh…

Sometime between now and 2012, we have 2-3 weekends without kids. As long as the She Ex does not change the schedule. Or the He Ex has to work and I have to take the boys. I’m not holding my breath and have accepted the fact that even though we are separated families and should be able to have time to ourselves, Captain and I will have kids every day forever. Which is okay, we kinda like them.

In theory, we each get time to ourselves to rest, do boring work and other adult stuff so we are more refreshed and energized for the next time the kids are home.

The Others (ie: the Ex’s significant other’s)

This is all dependent on the specific character of the Other. As long as the Bio parent’s Other is a kid-centered person and wants to be a good parent and person for the kids, the kids totally end up winning. Right now, I think we are both pretty lucky in this respect.

The She Ex does not have an Other involved with the kids – at least that we know of. I’m sure if/when she does and from what I know of her values, he will be a good influence for the kids.

The He Ex has a pretty cool girlfriend living with him. My boys adore her, talk about her often and look forward to her being there when they visit their dad.

No Other is looking to replace or push out any Bio parent, but to compliment them and be another caring, loving adult in the kids lives. The kids get more adults to cheer them on, help them grow, teach them about live, expose them to new experiences, keep them in line, watch them when the Ex has to work and you have other plans, care for them and grow with them.

Step Parenting: Part 7

2011-08-11T14:00:00.039-04:00

Gold Star #2: Experience & Responsibility

I can’t believe I am still saying Gold Star of Parenting… lame.

Given that I have older kids and Captain has younger kids, we both step up to the parenting plate with different backgrounds, ideas and experiences.

I may have already had a kid that had a crazy high fever and have ideas how to treat it, or a picky eater and have suggestions how to turn them on to better foods. I may have washed out a million puke, poo or grass stains and know a trick to make whatever was recently christened by one of our kids as good as new. (but can't I just tell you? do I have to do it for you? Really? ... please ??) I might have ideas about how to take the kids to the next stage of their lives or an experience they might like. (read: I've Been There Done That and probably know what I am talking about.)

Captain gets the opportunity to test out his parenting ideas on older kids and will be better prepared for the stages his kids will come into in 3-5 years. He will have the Been There Done That attitude having seen it happen with my kids at their current stages. He will know how together we have dealt with allowance, teaching responsibility, middle school woes, dating, friends, sleepovers and self-awareness and personal hygiene. He gets to get out his inner boy and teach the boys sports and other Man Life Skills - as well as which Man Life Skills might need to wait a couple more years. He had a brother and knows better how to deal with boys and sibling rivalry. And then we get the opportunity to learn what works and what doesn't. (read: my kids get to the be guinea pigs for his kids)

We both have experiences that will benefit both our kids now and later in life and ideas that may or may not be right and may or may not work. I’m more likely to listen to someone tell me about how they dealt with a difficult experience/transition or phase with their child than someone that has never dealt with it and is trying to “be helpful.”

The other part to this is the Ultimate Responsibility of the Decisions.

As Bio parents, get to be the one that says exactly what we want for our kids and how we want it. As the Bio parent, we get to trump all other adults and the opportunity to listen to the opinions, experiences and ideas from other people and parents.

As step parents, we can give our opinions. We can research topics if asked. We can look for alternate solutions to problems. But we don’t have the stress of being the one that has to make those final decisions. Or face the music if the decision is not the right one.

In some ways it's a blessing and a curse. We don't have the weight of the decisions on our shoulders, but we also have to sit back and watch the train wreck we knew was probably coming when we were right - and the other parents disagreed.

We can help guide these impressionable kids into beautiful adults, watch them spread their wings and fly away.

Step Parenting: Part 6

2011-08-10T10:00:00.012-04:00

Well, I was going to write about my one of my favorite treats … a new Oreo flavor (Orange Creamsicle baby!), but something else was spinning in the back of my mind and it needed to come out.

If you don’t like something, change it. If you can’t change it, change your attitude. – Maya Angelou.

I’m changing my writing focus to the positives of last wee's topic – The Gold Stars of Step Parenting

How cheezy is that title? Did I really write that? Is this grade school? Is there a chart?
... sigh ...
Oh well. You're just gonna have to deal with that one.

Being a step parent is not all about the hard parts or the hurdles or the crosses we bare. There are some really wonderful, fun and amazing things about being a step parent, too. Sure, there are days when you are tired, have your patience tried a little too much or need a break. But that’s not something exclusive to step parenting. It’s a right of passage for all parents, regardless of their affiliation with the children.

Gold Star #1: Experiences

This is a double Gold Star topic. Not only do we get to experience things with the kids that the Ex’s might not have wanted to do, but the kids get to experience things with the Ex’s that we might not have wanted either.

It’s a win-win for both the adults and the kids.

We don’t have to grump about not wanting to go to some festival, fair, movie, kid-event or sci-fi something-or-another that the Ex’s are totally into, but us… mmm, notsomuch, thanks. The kids get to have fun with the parent that really wants to be there and everyone has a good time.

We get to hear the kids talk about how exciting their trip to wherever was, what they saw and got to do. We can share their excitement and experience without having to be there when we may not have enjoyed it personally. We don't have to be the Debbie Downer.

In the same way, we can take the kids to things we are into and think are fun that the Ex’s may not have enjoyed as much. We don't have to deal with a Debbie Downer, either.

There is also the added benefit of doing things without another adult constantly checking the time and wanting to go home because they never wanted to be there in the first place.

And even better … if the step parent does not want to go, we often have the option to do it one-on-one with our kids. There have been times when each of us have said “You want to [do something not-so-fun for me, like a super fun Wiggles concert or a really long Boy Scout lecture] with the kids? How about I stay home and work on the house?” We’re both adult enough to recognize when the other is not into whatever super-cool-awesome-fun event we want to go to and is looking for a way out gracefully. And we’re okay with it.

No matter which way you turn it, the kids get more opportunities, more experiences, more chances to learn new things, see new things and taste life. Because parenting is all about the kids, this is definitely a Gold Star topic for everyone.

Gold Star #2 tomorrow - Experience & Responsibility

My Thoughts Exactly

2011-08-08T09:31:00.003-04:00

This sign is posted in the bathroom of a local restaurant in my home town. I think it should come standard on all toilet paper thingies.

This weekend alone I changed the toilet paper in all three bathrooms.

All three bathrooms had replacement rolls within eyesight.

Yet all three were empty.

... sigh ...

Step Parenting: Part 5

2011-08-05T14:00:00.002-04:00

Hurdle #5: What They Do “Over There”

Background: I have my kids 90% of the time; Captain has his kids 20% of the time.

The hardest thing that Captain and I deal with is not what happens in our house, but what is happening to our kids when they are with the Ex’s. It’s not that we’re control freaks (we totally are) but we have the parenting door slammed in our faces and are left in the dark when they are Over There, hoping that the other parent is making the choices we would make – at that we will at the very least be able to find out about their choices.

We don’t know when they may get a haircut or how short their hair will be (even if I like their hair just fine the way it is, thankyouverymuch.)

We can’t remind the other parent preparing dinner that the kids should have a vegetable and not another dessert.

We can’t remind the other parent that the last time they watched 6 hours of TV they were little jerks for 3 days.

We can’t ask them not to forget their medicine/lotion/not to let them run through the weeds that gave them a rash.

The kids come to us sleepy, hungry, cranky for being in the house all day, brains stuffed with a surplus of television and video games because – God forbid – they have too much person to person interaction and are spoiled from getting whatever they want because buying your kids everything in the world and giving in to every whim is better than giving them attention that they truly need. We get them with no idea what they have eaten or when, how they behaved, slept or transitioned through the day.

What are you doing for discipline? Rewards? Potty training? Bedtime rituals?

… crickets …

It takes at least a day and a half for the kids to decompress from every house-to-house transition.

When you have the kids for only 2 days a 36 hour transition can be hell.

Neither of the Ex’s are open to talk about parenting the kids. They feel this is not a team sport and the kids will fare just fine without either household ever talking about the kids.

Bullshit.

Try figuring out what a 9 month old baby is eating when you only see her twice a week and the She Ex tells you to “figure it out.”

Try getting extra homework time so your kids don’t fall behind when the He Ex tells you it’s your idea, do it on your time.

Try figuring out what “that rash is from” when you only have them for 2 days and no one said anything about it.

Try making sure your pre-teen is not looking at inappropriate content on the internet. Or the He Ex’s computer. Because no one is watching. And he knows it.

The He Ex will listen when I am informing him about events and things I have noticed regarding the kids. However, the moment I suggest something like … he convert his second bedroom into a BEDROOM and not an OFFICE so the kids can stop sleeping on the floor in the living room, or suggest the need for the kids to bathe daily, I am a controlling witch butting into his life.

The She Ex won’t even allow the conversations to be casual. 95% of the time She Ex has her normal How dare you continue to exist? Hate hate hate!! Why have you not dropped dead from my hatred yet? glare which means there will be no communication from her. Captain can tell her all about his time with the kids and the status updates: naps, food, bathroom times, etc. She just snatches up the kids from him and hardly says more than mumble.

Nice.

4 parents in 3 households all influence the lives of 4 kids. 2 parents not open to any communication about parenting. 2 parents just trying to learn what their kids do and want to work together to ensure they have the best lives possible.

Roadblocks whenever we attempt to reach out.

Next Week – More Adventures With My Oreos (hell yeah!)

Step Parenting: Part 4

2011-08-04T14:00:00.008-04:00

"Better a Serpent than a Stepmother" - Euripides - 480-406 BC

Hurdle #4: The Curse

Can you think of a fairy tale with a wonderful step mother? Weren't all the princesses running away from the Devil of a woman their father was tricked into marrying? Didn't the princesses long to be with no one but their real mothers? Searching for their prince charming to come and take them away from Her. The Wicked Step Mother.

For thousands of years, poetry, art and literature have given us the bad wrap. Disney, Mother Goose and even Shakespeare threw us under the bus. All because we have the audacity to think we have enough love, compassion and kindness to raise children that are not from our own loins. That makes us evil.

As a step mother, I am cursed.

We are watched like mice in a field by the Biological Hawk Family. If the children are happy, content, peaceful we are simply doing Our Job. If the children are sad, scared, fed something they do not like, (God forbid) injured, or in any way upset, then we are a Bad Mother and Clearly Unacceptable. Any person with a biological connection to the children are better suited, more knowledgeable and not a Lesser Person.

Never mind if my own kids would have been told long ago to be quiet and threatened punishment for further infractions. Never mind if I never would have tolerated the same behavior from my kids or even a stranger’s kids. I cannot scold, raise my voice, punish, discipline or set my own boundaries. I love, hug, tolerate and smile through the frustration, the disrespect, the cold shoulders.

Why?

Because of the curse.

Because I am scared to death the kid will think I am the Wicked Step Mother from the fairy tales.

I open my heart to children I have no real say about or rights to. I compromise my values, patience and understanding. I strive to help the children succeed, to love and accept their step-brothers, to love their daddy, to remember us while we are apart, to be healthy and wise. I put myself dead last to their needs to make sure they never feel shoved off to the side like one of the sad princesses from the stories I know they will learn and compare to me. I carry the baggage of the She Ex and the emotional hatred she has for the woman that dares to have a relationship with her children. I have my heart ripped out every time I remember I have no real say in things like school, church and medical needs and again when they refuse to hug or kiss me. I work hard to ensure their happiness and safety with none of the gratification or recognition. I strive to be a 4-star parent even though I will always do so from the sidelines or in the shadows. I ask to do all this and willingly do it every day. These things make me truly wicked.

Clearly, a wart and a broom and I’d be all set.

Step Parenting: Part 3

2011-08-03T14:00:00.004-04:00

Hurdle #3: Family

“You can pick your ears. You can pick your nose. You can pick your butt. But you can’t pick your family.” – My dad

In our household alone there are 4 sets of grandparents, 3 great grandparents, a scattering of aunts, uncles & cousins, great aunts & uncles, second cousins … all who love these kids and want to see them. Take into consideration we only have the kids every other weekend - giving us 2 weekends a month to be a family AND to visit family.

I am eternally grateful that we have such an outpouring of family that want to be a part of these kid’s lives. We're damn lucky.

BUT…

The nearest family lives about 2 hours away, most family are within a butt (and head) aching 3 hour drive.

Three. Flippin. Hours. In the car. With up to four kids.

Someone will: need to pee, be hungry, feel sick, be tired, be bored, be breathed on… it’s an event that takes some mental preparing, deep breathing (and Tylenol).

It is a day trip. It requires planning (See The Schedule post from yesterday). Meals on the road. Supplies for entertainment. Often an overnight stay. Packing. Money. Car maintenance. Time

That’s the hardest. Time. If you ever find any laying around or for sale, let me know. I could really use more.

Planning to visit family is a mental tally. An unspoken countdown.

Who saw whose family last? Most often? Longest? Whose turn is it? Who saw the kids last Christmas? Didn’t we have birthdays with your family last year? I always go [here] on [holiday]. What about my kids? That’s always the question that someone will think at some point.

What about my kids?

At the end of the day, we try to find balance. Our parents and the closest family is visited most often. People willing to come to us get to visit more than those that cannot make the trip. We are lucky to have so much family to love, hug, kiss and spoil our children. And no matter what we try, we will never see them, call them or send pictures to them as much as they deserve.

Step Parenting: Part 2

2011-08-02T14:00:00.001-04:00

Hurdle #2: The Schedule

Making it, updating it, sharing it, coordinating it... The Calendar is our family bible and without it we would be lost sheep left to wander the hills.

Just for fun, call up someone that has kids. Put your calendar and their calendar together. Now call up two more people that have kids and put all 4 calendars together. Make sure all kids are covered, events attended, preparation time scheduled, household chores done and family called/visited.

I hope you wrote in pencil, because there’s a surprise after school event on Wednesday and you have to work late the next 2 nights. And one kid has a rash and you have to change your plans for Your Time.

We are chained The Schedule like criminals doing hard time.

Neither Captain or I can make plans without checking half a dozen calendars. There are 2 visitation schedules to coordinate, 2 work schedules to check, school calendars – for multiple schools, Holiday Visitation Guidelines made up by The Man. Family to check with. (Teaser – Tomorrow, I take on Family!)

Even when we have the kids, we are owned by The Clock. We are constantly planning when we have to leave to have them to their other parent or pick them up and bring them home. Checking the time. Making sure not to be late. Can’t anger The Ex’s or we may not get a time extension next time.

Captain travels for work and is often gone at least one day a week. We both attend conferences in the fall for work. By Thursday, I often feel comfortable enough with the plans to be able to make concrete plans for the weekend.

If we want to make Thanksgiving plans, we have to start planning months in advance, but nothing can be set in stone. The She Ex or the He Ex may, just for giggles, make plans and Oops! forget to tell you until the week prior.

Shit changes All. The Time.

I am the Keeper of The Schedule for my kids. The She Ex is the Keeper of The Schedule for his kids. I'm lucky that The He Ex does not often care about changes to my schedule as long as it does not require him to get out of bed early or miss $1 beer night at the bar - or whatever it is he does at 10 pm on Saturday nights that Cannot. Be. Changed. God help us if we want to make changes to the She Ex's schedule for something involving me or my kids. We'd have better chances asking the devil for a home loan.

I don’t work well this way. I am a planner. I like to know what’s coming in advance. This is one hurdle I will constantly struggle to get over.

Step Parenting: Part 1

2011-08-01T13:08:00.010-04:00

Hands down - being a step parent is the most challenging thing I have ever taken on. Captain and I are not married, but we live together and by default the roles (without the formal titles) are in place. Step Parents. That's us. The good, bad and ugly.

Captain inherited my 2 ~~monsters~~ boys, 11 and 7. They are attention starved, momma’s boys and in need of a constant and supportive male role model. (read: my kids need a man like him around) I inherited 2 monkeys, a 4 year-old boy and a 2 year-old girl. Both have loving, supportive parents who are there for them all the time. (read: I am extra)

This week is about my Hurdles.

Hurdle #1 – The Learning Curve

The Boundaries, Roles, Limits, Rules for everything simply sucks. As ~~fake~~ step parents, we are cursed. At some point (very soon) in the integration into their life, the kid will look at you and know you share no DNA with them, therefore you are a Lesser Person and cursed. That label is applied in permanent marker, baby. Lesser Person.

The Roles: I get to have fun, play and be a highlight to their visit with daddy. I love that I can help these little people learn something that they will use for the rest of their lives. I love that I can teach them games and silly words that only make sense to us. I love that I have the privilege to be a part of their lives and mother them.

I love that I can love them like they are my own kids.

But they are not.

One way or another, I am reminded of that Every. Single. Visit. They are not my kids.

The Limits: When they are hurt, sad or scared, I will not be the one they want to come to. I am not the one they want to tuck them in bed or kiss them goodbye. I am not the last person they will want to see before returning to their mommy. I will not know every little detail about their lives. I am not the one that can get them to eat their dinner when they are being stubborn. And because they have a mother that would rather lose her arm that let me watch her kids alone, I will never be their caregiver for more than the time it takes Captain to shower.

I will always be good. But never be good enough.

The Boundaries: It does not matter if I think one of them needs a haircut or should be reaching some milestone. It does not matter if I would do things differently or think they should brush their teeth better. Having older kids, most of my tolerances and ideas about what is acceptable for children are already set. Captain has not had the time to draw his lines. It is completely unfair for me to draw the lines for him. We are both outspoken, protective parents. We don’t want anyone to tell us how to parent our kids.

Because they are so young. The She Ex has the kids 80% of the time. His 20% time is precious to him and what little influence and control he can have won’t go to me. The night I declare it to be bedtime or time to pick up the house will be met with a glare and a gentle (but stern) reminder that it’s His Time and His Agenda. It’s not his fault and I would do the same. But it will always sting.

I may know where we are going and how to get there (and even some shortcuts), but I'll only ever be passenger on this ride.

__________________

Tomorrow – The Schedules

Things I have Learned About My New House

2011-06-29T12:49:00.005-04:00

I've been living with Captain for a while now. It's definitely a change - something we both are adjusting to. I live in the city - just a mile from downtown. He lives a few miles outside of town in a subdivision near corn fields. Two independent, ornery, stubborn people with two completely stocked houses put together can sometimes make interesting evenings. It's been a learning experience just as much as it has been a lesson in exhaustion. Moving is hard work! Here's what I have learned about my new home so far:

Living in a subdivision in the country is much quieter than living downtown, a mile from the fire department and a block from a major road.
The crickets & frogs are just as loud as traffic on a busy road. SHHHH!
There are bugs - lots of them. Big ones. They want to eat me, crawl on my feet and legs and watch me in the shower and pretend to fall on me.
It’s way easier to do laundry when you don’t have to haul it from the top floor to the basement back to the top floor again.
Mowing the lawn cannot be a spontaneous chore when going from 1/8 of an acre to almost 1 acre. Gotta plan for that stuff...
Birds are loud in the morning. I think they learn it from the roosters. I will never need a 5:30 am alarm clock. The birds have it covered.
I have LOTS of space for my plants!
There are definite perks to having your own bathroom. Even more perks to having three bathrooms!
I kinda missed having carpeting. It’s a pain to keep clean, but less dusty than wood floors!

Somebody's Gotta Say It...

2011-06-24T08:00:00.001-04:00

Sometimes you just have to be the one to make those uncomfortable – but often necessary – comments to someone. After all, if it were you, you would want to know. Right?

You have a booger in your nose
Your pants are unzipped
You need a mint (or toothbrush)
Your shoe is untied
Your undies are showing
You spelled that wrong (see also next 2 bullet points)
There, their and they’re are all different – learn the proper use
Same with your and you’re, effect and affect, than and then, principal and principle, too, to and two… oh – just get a writer’s reference book.
Excuse me, you kids are … (insert some inappropriate action my kids have done in public)
You have food on your face/stuck in your teeth
(to someone whispering – but not whispering to you) I can hear you
Golf, tennis, fishing, hunting and baseball are all BORING to watch on TV. Most are boring in general.
WHAT is that smell?
Your hair … looks fake
Actually, my name is ... It seems no one can ever get my name right the first time. I have been called Jan, June, Judy, Den, Ben, Sam, even Desk.
You have something on your butt/chest/back/crotch, etc. Often this refers to dirt, food or something that is not supposed to be wherever it is and is a tad embarrassing.

What do you say to people?

Do You Smell That?

2011-06-23T08:00:00.002-04:00

To say I have been in "a bit of a funk lately" is probably an understatement. I've been sitting in a steaming pile of stinky poop - created by me as well as given to me by others for entirely too long.

I didn't like anything or anyone. I was depressed. I was mad. I was exhausted emotionally. I was overwhelmed. I was downright pissed off. A Lot. I wish I could say it was a moody moment - but it lasted a few months. That's more than a moment in my book.

Sometimes you have to take time to process though life changes and that process can bring people down with you. Sometimes you need to talk things through to process. Sometimes you need to hold it all in until it makes sense. Sometimes you need to find another medium to get it out - writing, painting, creating, working, sweating... Sometimes the positive thinking is not enough to compensate for the bad mojo coming at you. I can get slapped down only so many times before just staying down, middle fingers held high because I may be down but I'm still a fighter.

I have a lot of reasons for my "funk" - all of which I feel are legitimate and all of which sound like whining when said out loud. So I'll keep my reasons to myself.

Thankfully, I have a good man by my side who sat with me in my pile of poop, often added some of his own, came back to pick me up when he knew I would accept help and handed me a big shovel to dig myself out.

I'm not all the way out yet, but things are starting to smell a whole lot better already.

____________________________

Quote of the week:

A positive attitude may not solve all your problems, but it will annoy enough people to make it worth the effort.

My Boy’s Got A Girl

2011-06-20T08:00:00.001-04:00

It’s super cute when boys start thinking of girls are cute rather than cringing from them like they had the plague. It’s innocent. It’s emotional. It’s puppy love.

Scratchy now has a “girlfriend.” In quotes because other than the title, it holds no merit to dating or a relationship. It’s cute. They went to the 5^th grade dance together. He boasted about how she can dance really well. He talks about her often. He got her refreshments after the advancement program (graduation.) I met her. He met her mom.

Aww…. Right? Cute!!

That’s about where the cute stops. I only have a cell phone now. She has my cell number. Seemed innocent to give a phone number out, right? I mean, I had lots of friends I called as a kid. But not a cell phone. Phones that have time limits and texting charges.

She has her own cell phone. At age 11. Can you see where this is going??

This little 11 year old girl likes to text. And call. Without bounds. She texts me at 10 at night and 8 in the morning. “Hi. Is Scratchy there?” She is aware Scratchy goes to camp during the day. She has called every day this week in the afternoon “Hi. Is Scratchy there?” Every time with thinning patience I tell her that he is at camp and not available to talk until after dinner.

Some days there are 6-8 texts going back and forth before I stop it and tell them they need to just call each other. I won’t allow my son to text on my phone, so I tediously type out these messages for him trying to be the cool mom, the mom that lets his kid spread his wings and be “one of the cool kids that can text.” Bullshit. Puppy love is clogging up my phone.

Sorry son. It’s for your own good. She calls too much anyway. You don’t need to be at her beck-and-call anyway. Love, Mom

Things I Don't Understand (Part 2)

2011-06-17T18:00:00.000-04:00

* Waiting in line for more than 30 minutes for a 3 minute roller coaster. Now that I'm a grown-up and a mom, my time is too valuable.

*Why someone would pay $50+ to wait in line for 12 hours to ride 5 - 3 minute roller coasters. In the blistering heat and sun. And not being able to pee.

* Why my local radio station blurbs out the word "sex" from Katie Perry's ET, but will play Rihana's S&M.

* That my kid sister knows (and sings most of) the words to S&M, but refuses to say the word "sex" out loud.

* Germaphobic people that sanitize everything around them when someone else is sick, but cough without covering their mouths when they are sick.

* Why people use "text type" when using their computer keyboard. You have all the keys at your access and all the space you want to type - use them. And you look like a semi-illiterate moron.

* How people ever worked in offices and remembered anything before post-it notes.

* Why someone has not figured out a way to keep cars from being 9 million degrees in the summer and melting your eyelashes when you get into them.

* Why board game boxes are so big and why I have enough to build an addition onto the house with them.

* Why anyone would wear neon. Ever. It was only trendy in the 90's. That was 20 years ago. Let it go...

__________________

Stay tuned for more Things...

Summer in a Basket

2011-06-10T18:00:00.001-04:00

If I were to pack summer in my picnic basket it would contain:

Cool watermelon slices- with the seeds. Chomping into a big juicy slice of watermelon and getting juice all over your face and spitting the seeds was a focal point of my childhood summer backyard parties.

Midwestern sweet corn on the cob - drenched in real butter and lightly salted. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

Roasted marshmallows - a campfire requirement.

Hot Dogs - cooked on the grill or over the fire on a bun warm from being in the sun.

Warm potato chips in a plastic baggie

Cherry Kool-Aid

A peanut butter and jelly sandwich with potato chips in the middle and just enough sand to make it annoying.

Bom-Pop popsicles

Mulberries plucked straight off the trees - as a kid, my neighbor had a huge mulberry tree and the neighbor girl and I would eat them until our hands, faces and feet were stained purple and our bellies were about to burst.

Blueberries - picked right off the bushes

I love the fresh. sweet foods of summer!

By the Numbers

2011-06-07T08:00:00.001-04:00

Here is my summary of last Sunday by the numbers:

2 - number of animals insisting I needed to wake up at 7 am and attend to their needs

4 - destinations on my to-do list

3 - number of hours I spent at the office catching up on some projects. Work on Sunday - yeah!

5 - number of boxes I packed at my house. It was not an overly productive day.

4 - number of things on my grocery list

28 - number of things I purchased. Never shop hungry!

6 - number of dirty looks the cashier gave me because I brought my own bags. Get a life lady, I'm saving the earth.

8 - number of people I witnessed picking their butts in public. Ugh.

1 - number of crack whores in the store... wow, she was a doozy. Tank top, sweat pants, strange shoes, stringy, greasy hair, pale and sick looking, track marks...

67 - number of sickeningly skinny people out and about. Way to make me feel good. Jerks.

905,5732,454 - number of people wearing clothes at least one size too small. I know it's summer and we all have the winter-10 going on, but I don't need to see that much skin on anyone who is not sitting at the beach.

6,542 - number of bra straps showing and/or women without bra's (but needed one). Ladies, please wear appropriate undergarments to match your tops. Or at leas buy matching ones to go with your tank. Your white tank top does not hide your hot pink bra strap.

My VIP

2011-06-06T06:00:00.004-04:00

D lives in DC. That's hella far away. I've known here since I was 11 - the age of my oldest son. It blows my mind that my son could have a friend today that sticks with him throughout his life. Seriously... It kind of scares me.

D is awesome. We listen to each other rant about life, food, people, kids, friends and anything we can get the other to sit still and listen to. We shared homes, food, clothes, boyfriends and some serious history. We were the maid of honors in each other's weddings. We know the skeletons in the closets and the awards on the walls.

She currently has no kids (but is trying) and is married to a darling Boy Scout Husband. She has a busy DC lifestyle, has a great circle of friends, has 2 puppies that are probably the most adorable beasties with 4 legs and when her punk knee is healthy she plays full contact girls football team. She's all kinds of bad-ass!

My favorite calls from her are usually between 7 and 8 am and start something like this "I'm awake and no one else is. I'm pretty sure I'm still drunk and I can't find my pants." How can you not love that about someone? I was married, now divorced and now dating and have 2 kids - one of which she was there for the birth of (well, most of it). I often call her with conversations about my kids that are way out in left field and generally result in her telling me that my kids are just like me. For many years, I was her birth control. She offered to take my boys for a week one summer and decided that she loved them to death, but would gladly send them home. I'd like to think we live vicariously through each other.

I love you D! You'll always be my VIP!

The Thunder Rolls

2011-06-03T08:00:00.001-04:00

Anyone else getting anxious about global warming, severe weather, Mother Nature in general being PISSED OFF?

Things I Don't Understand- Part 1

2011-06-02T06:00:00.001-04:00

1. Hunting for sport - Why hunt something and not eat it or use the animal for some other purpose? Isn't that the point of hunting?

2. Martin Scorsese films. Sorry, I just don't like them.

3. People who claim to be open minded, yet are not open to any opinions but their own. How is that being open?

4. Reptiles as pets. They are smelly, eat yucky stuff and you can't interact with them.

5. Strawberry Rhubarb pie. Why ruin a perfectly good pie with RHUBARB?!

... to be continued...

Material Girl

2011-05-31T18:00:00.003-04:00

The other day, Baby Girl (2) comes wandering out of the bedroom dressed in a pink baby doll top, pink and white striped leggings, white cuffed socks, pink glitter Mary Jane style shoes, a ponytail Bam-Bam style on top of her head and to top it all off - a jean jacket. She was totally channeling the 1980's. As a toddler in the 80's myself, I would have died for her coordination and fashion sense. However, it's now 2011.

I ask her "Baby Girl, are you like Madonna?"

"No."

"Are you like Tiffany?"

"No."

I laugh. "Baby girl, are you a Material Girl?"

"YES!"

"You're a Material Girl?!"

"YES!" And she gallops off to put on her brother's Lightning McQueen baseball hat. Stylin'!

Guacamole!

2011-05-25T08:00:00.002-04:00

I never liked guacamole in the past. I also never tried it. It was creamy in texture. Creamy usually means milk. And I don't get along with milk.

I got brave at a restaurant and tried it. Loved it! I looked up the recipe. No Milk! I now love guac and have made 2 batches in 3 days. It's easy and healthy and I love when I can get creamy food that makes me think of chip dip without the digestive consequences of chip dip. I even bought a kitchen towel with the recipe on it to remind myself to grab the guacamole & chips when I'm hunting for a snack.

I want to share my recipe! I don't measure much when I cook- so you'll have to adjust.

* One ripe avacado peeled & pitted and cut into 1/2" chunks (WAY easier than it looks!)

* About 2-3 tbsp very finely diced onion

* About a clove of garlic finely chopped. I use the pre-chopped garlic found in the produce section and use about a 1 1/2 tsp. (I like garlic)

* About 1/4 of a lime squeezed for the juice (then added to my water glass - yum!)

* About a tablespoon of finely chopped fresh cilantro - minus the stems. They taste like dish soap.

* 3 small grape tomatoes finely chopped

* sea salt & cracked black pepper to taste

Optional: Peppers or Pico de Gallo to spice it up

Mash throughly or put into a food processor. Blend/mash until smooth. Put into a container and cover with plastic wrap - wrap touching the guacamole. Air makes it turn brown. Refrigerate for about an hour to let the flavors blend together.

Crack open a beer or make a margarita, turn on some Jimmy Buffet or Bob Marley, grab some tortilla chips and your fresh guacamole and pretend you're on a beach somewhere. It's the best snack EVER! Creamy dip, healthy packed with vitamins & protein. While high in fat, it's the good fat and it can even help lower your cholesterol.

It's also one of the "big secrets" to The Biggest Loser. They even have a "sponsored brand." Wholly Guacamole. Get it? Hahah! For $5 for 1/2 cup, I'll make my own. What are you waiting for?? Go make some!

______________________________________________________________

Mom - even YOU can eat & make this. No peppers :-)

Stuffie Puppet Show

2011-05-23T22:09:00.004-04:00

Sometimes I play this little puppet show with my kids stuffed animals at night. I have not done it in a LONG time. For some reason, the show re-opened last night and the "Bravo's!" and "Encore's!" lightened my night.

Last night, we had an eloborate discussion about who was best friends with John the Duck. Turns out his only friend is Itchy and he tends to stick his butt in the air at Scratchy. (can't blame him there.)

Tonight starred Un-Named Beaver. We talked about his friend choice - which was determined mostly by their smell and the "friends" in Scratchy's bed were significantly more smelly than Itchy's. We had to take pause for a gag fit. Afterwards Un-Named Beaver stuck his butt up at everyone and farted.

Jeff Dunham move over ... I have kiddies to entertain!

Oreo's - It's Not My Fault!

2011-05-20T08:00:00.000-04:00

You know I have mad love for my Oreo's. I went home last weekend to see my parents and came home with three bags! Three different flavors! Chocolate covered peanut butter, peanut butter and golden (vanilla) for my anti-chocolate oldest son.

So when you open my cabinet and see this madness - it's not my fault!

Hail! Hail! The Gang's All Here!

2011-05-17T08:00:00.004-04:00

This weekend was the Old Man’s 61^st birthday. After battling cancer, multiple surgeries and other various crappy things, he deserved an awesome birthday. He said all he wanted was to be able to eat lobster. So we bought & cooked lobster. He didn't even have to leave the house.

My best friend came up from DC with her hubby (a Maine man with plenty of lobster knowledge), my brother, his wife and their kiddo came up from Nebraska (as a surprise), my oldest brother from Michigan, his wife and their two girls, me, Captain and our four Little Darlings all for lobster, gigantic steak, my sis-in-law’s fantastic fixin’s and some all around good family time. It had been almost 5 years since we all were together.

For those of you keeping count - that's 7 kids under the age of 11 and 10 adults. We were almost outnumbered.

As usual, the trip was too short and there was not enough time to talk to everyone, but I think we all gave the Old Man the party he was looking for and surround him with as much family as possible to keep him smiling for a long time. Happy Birthday Old Man!!

Great things about dating (as an adult)

2011-05-10T08:00:00.000-04:00

I've been in the mood for lists.

Here are 10 great things about being in a new relationship:

1. You lose weight because you never eat much (if ever!) for fear of looking like a pig, having foody breath or getting something stuck between your teeth. Or you're slimming down because of what my dearest friend refers to the "F Diet." I'll let you figure that one out. I'll wait ... got it yet?

2. Being able hide do all the gross, awkward stuff FAR from each other - like pooping (that one's for you, Captain), cutting your toenails, plucking your eyebrows, etc.

3. He does not know your wardrobe - so something slinky from 900 years ago that you never wore or some old dress stashed in the back of your closet is now "new." Yeah you!

4. In the same light, you can shop all you want. New clothes are just something he has not seen before. "oh, this OLD thing ...???" Just don't forget to stuff the tags in the trash.

5. Trying new things and going to new places - there's nothing holding you back. Order that purple hooter. Go somewhere new. Be silly.

6. Doing embarrassing stuff - like ordering a purple hooter, farting while laughing because you've been holding it the entire date or falling off a swing while trying to be cute and getting a face full or dirt and crying for feeling stupid. (not that it's happened to me or anything...)

7. There is ALWAYS something to talk about.

8. You always look good, smell good and are meticulously groomed because you actually care what you look like - and with that comes the surplus of mints, gum and other primping and prepping accessories you carry that will make you look and smell like you just walked out of the shower - no matter what time it is.

9. You are not yet required to talk to his parents when they call - if they even know you're there.

10. He buys you little presents and flowers and sweet stuff wrapped in crinkly paper. All the good foods are wrapped in crinkly paper. Like Oreo's and rock candy.

Creativity

2011-05-08T08:00:00.001-04:00

Itchy created this at Cub Scouts the other day. The boys were supposed to create a new animal. This combines his favorite animal with his favorite noise - duck + vaccuum = duckuum.

Enjoy.

What to do during a confrontation with an irrational person:

2011-05-06T08:00:00.007-04:00

I'm pretty much a confrontational expert. I have been both the irrational person and the one being confronted. Most (normal) people will tell you to be calm, level headed and not speak emotionally. Walk away if the situation gets too serious and you need to separate yourself to remain calm. Talk logically and even try to subdue the irrational person by telling them you would like to get back to the topic later.

Yeah, that’s pretty much the “mom’s watching” way of handling stupid people. BORING!

When you're feeling snarky and mom's not watching, I propose a new technique: The Peanut Butter Method.

Irrational crazy person launches into a rant to me about something that is not your problem or fault. And you don't care. Not even a little.
Nod head, wide eyes (pretending to be vulnerable, please restrain from launching nearest heavy hand-sized object at attacker) This works best when you are sitting down. It's all about the illusion that you give a crap.
Ruffle your feathers a little to see if the person will back down. Give a couple good verbal smacks to warm up the playing field. Keep your hands down, you still can't trust them at this point.
Think about what cartoon bad-guy your Crazy person would be and how that cartoon bad guy was defeated. See? You're now smiling. Wile E. Coyote has some excellent suggestions. Put down the shoe, remote or stapler. You have bad aim anyway.
The option to join in is always fun! Begin to agree in the same irrational tone they are in. 2 crazy people are WAY more fun than one. Jumping up and down often helps. So does foot stomping and grand gesticulations. (Thank you Mr. Bartles, Vocab, AP English 11, circa '95) Remember, this is all for your personal entertainment anyway.
Sidetrack them - People that are prone to irrational fits have hot topics. It is WAY easy to divert them from attacking you to their hot topic. It’s usually something like politics, religion, the environment, hippies, Brittney Spears, the latest American Idol results, organic foods, the necessity of country music, blue versus black pens … stuff like that. It's easy to confuse the Crazies.
Blurt out PEANUT BUTTER! (to be said with gusto) They’ll be thrown off or at least think you are totally insane, move on with their Fat Basket of Crazy and you can get back to your day.

What do you do to deal with your Crazies?

My love of The Oreo

2011-05-04T08:00:00.003-04:00

I am an avid Oreo fan. I don't love the double stuff what I really love a good ole' Oreo and milk (soy or almond milk of course). I'm a simple girl, after all.

Until ... along came variety!

Oreo mini's, double stuff, triple stuff, seasonal colors, mint, chocolate, strawberry, strawberry milkshake, peanut butter, chocolate covered, golden vanilla, banana split, those ones with two flavors on one cookie, and now (drum roll please) berry burst ice cream!

You read that right- Berry Burst Ice Cream. Oreo + Berry + Ice Cream. How could that NOT be amazing? I picked up a pack of these little treats at the store last weekend. After 2 days the package is 3/4 gone and I am trying to figure out how many more packages I can buy without the cashier thinking I am a total nut job or Captain finding the 572 packages stashed in random places throughout the house, car and office. Then there's always the issue with the crap ton of calories and sugar (which we all know leads to Big Butt Syndrome).

Strawberry Milkshake was once my favorite and I asked Captain to stop at a store way out of his way while he was working in Cincinnati and buy me a couple packages. I could not find them around here. They were a limited time deal. I looked everywhere. Stop judging! These cookies were worth the begging.

Oreo's cookies are the best, and I'm not too ashamed to stock up. I'll be the one in the store with the overflowing cart just before closing wearing my darkest sunglasses, baseball hat, hair pulled back and paying with cash so there are no ways to track me. If you're looking for them at your local store and can't find them, I probably got there first. They're probably under my bed. Or in the game cabinet. Or in the linnen closet. Or in my car. Or ... well I can't tell you everywhere! I may share ... if you ask nicely.

Books I Want To Write (But Never Will)

2011-04-30T08:00:00.003-04:00

Small’ish-Ville : How to Grow Up in a Small’ish Town and Survive Long Enough to Escape
Stepping Sideways: Memoirs of the Hopelessly Clumsy
Painting Death : How I Escaped Death (More Than Once) - a sequel to Stepping Sideways
Velma’s Fight – a fiction story about a group of nerdy hot girls getting revenge on the idiots of the world
Pootropilis – co-authored by Captain. A fictional story about a town composed of various animals’ poo and completely dependant on poo for survival.
Meeting Notes – would look like a notebook and designed to be taken to business meetings, but inside are writing prompts, word games & other things to help you look busy and like you are a diligent worker taking avid notes
One Girl, Two Boys – things I learned about myself, boys, and parenting while raising my two boys.
John the Duck – a children’s book about my son’s favorite stuffed duck
Beans and Cheese - another children’s book about two brothers that loved to fart!
Another Day at the Office - essays and stories by my fabulous friends and the insane things that have happened to them at work

Blending Families and Caustic Soda

2011-04-27T18:00:00.003-04:00

Caustic Soda + [(1 Adult) + 2 Kids] + [(1 Adult) + 2 Kids] + Dog + Cat

+ 1 Ton o’ Baggage = Something Like A Family???

Trying to put together two divorced adults to try to create a successful relationship can be hard enough on its own. Both people are a little cynical, bitter, jaded, scared, angry, lonely, tired. Finding the new right person can be like finding the needle in a haystack. Add in 4 kids spanning 9 years, 1 dog and 1 cat and you can have a mess!

In my case, I was not even looking but stepped on the needle anyway. Captain and I clicked from the beginning as friends. We built a solid friendship and helped each other through some tough personal times. We established this friendhip without even a thought of taking it a step further. We were good friends. We had a trusting and open friendship from our past and moving to from friends to relationship was not a difficult transition once we saw it. Being together was pretty easy. Learning to be in a healthy relationship and friendship is a constant challenge. We are a lot alike -equally passionate, silly, determined, passive, outspoken, stubborn and reserved. Add to that different levels life experience and at least 2-4 kids constantly under foot and it's hella hard. Every time it gets tough, at the end of the day one of us will make the other smile and we know it's all good.

Where does the Caustic Soda come in? “Nerd Alert:” (interjected by Captain) Caustic Soda is a principle strong base used in the chemical industry. (hear me out…) Captain and I have some wacky chemistry but no matter what, our friendship base is strong as hell. We may rock and tilt once and a while but at the core of it all, we’re solid. We started with Caustic Soda and ended up with something like a family. Now stop Googl'ing Caustic Soda or you'll learn more that will put holes in my analogy. (holes... get it...??)

Elephants Off-the-Wall

2011-04-25T08:00:00.004-04:00

A friend suggested I write about elephants. Truth is, I don’t know a whole lot about them. They’re big. They live a long time. They’re smelly. My step-mom collects little statues of them. That’s about all I have. So, I researched and here are your off-the-wall elephant facts.

While our knuckles are on our hands, an elephant’s knuckles are the soft spots behind its ears.
Elephants only walk about 4 mph, can swim long distances and are the only mammal that cannot jump.
They eat 16 hours a day totaling about 500 lbs of food and only have 4 teeth. So quit your complaining about working 8 hours and making dinner.
Despite their size, elephants cannot see or hear very well.
During World War II, the very first bomb dropped on Berlin by the Allies killed the only elephant in the Berlin Zoo. Poor elephant!
Their average heart beat is 27 bpm. Comparatively, a canary’s is 1000.
They can purr.
There are 2 different “kinds”- African and Asian. I’m pretty sure you can figure out where the names come from. African elephants are larger.
Elephant’s poo about 80 kg a day, it can be used to make paper and does not smell. They don’t digest their food well, which is why they eat so much.
An elephant's trunk can hold up to 2.5 gallons of water and will drink about 80 gallons a day. 2.5 gallons is about as much as a low-flow toilet uses per flush.

And because this was cooler than I though it would be - 10 Famous elephants and their (often very tragic) stories:

Dumbo – based on a real elephant named Jumbo Jr.
Babar – the young elephant starring in a children’s book series.
Jumbo - P.T. Barum’s famous circus elephant.
Ruby - the artist elephant, born in the Phoenix Zoo. She painted and make thousands of dollars off her paintings. She died giving birth.
Mighty Mary - circus performer, the only known elephant hanged for killing her inexperienced keeper.
Topsy - tortured by handlers on Coney Island, she killed 3 of them and then was executed by Thomas Edison.
Norma Jean – struck by lightening and killed during a parade in Illinois.
Packy – the first Asian elephant born in the Western Hemisphere (Oregon) in 44 years.
Batyr – said to be able to talk like a human.
Ganesha – the Lord of Success, a Hindu Deity. Among the most revered Gods in Hinduism.

GOOD Friday? My ass...

2011-04-23T17:02:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was Good Friday. I was working late and, I misjudged the bottom step at work and my ankle folded under me. No one else was in the office and I laid on the atrium floor sobbing until Captain arrived and picked me up. Then we stopped for Chinese & went to my house to eat, I decided I needed to see a doctor.

Fortunately, Lutheran Hospital has a super efficient ER (and they were not busy). After taking my story, vitals x-rays & giving me 2 pain pills, I waited for results.
Not broken. RICE treatment for the major sprain & no weight on it for 48 hours. Then it would "hurt less."

So I have a day to figure out if I'm healed enough to stay at my house next week. I have a 2-story house, Captain has a ranch-style home. I'll probably be on crutches for a few more days.

I get to spend the one warm, dry day of the next week getting a wicked tan line while the kids play & I can only sit and watch.

Pictures of me

2011-04-21T21:43:00.003-04:00

The thing is, I take crappy pictures. Every Single. Time.

One of the following will happen:

* I will have my eyes closed.
* I will have my mouth open. Often this happens when my eyes are closed, giving the impression that I am possessed.
* I will be eating, look like I am eating, or look like I am about to spit up my food.
* I will not look at the camera.
* I will make a stupid face while trying to smile pretty for the camera because I have no idea how to smile pretty.

Most often, I stick out my tongue and make a stupid face because then at least the horrible picture was intentional and no one is disappointed. Yeah for bad pics on purpose!!! (Sorry mom!)

I love the attention of getting my picture taken and having the memory of a place or moment. But throwing my non-photogenic possessed looking ass in the middle of an awesome moment is full of the Not Awesome.

Now you know why I stand behind the camera.