Tricks of Trick or Treating

I need to teach my girls how to trick or treat more effectively. When handed a bucket of candy, always, ALWAYS, claim the chocolate first. Milky Way Bar or Jawbreaker? As if there should be any thought involved with that choice, yet my children consistently grabbed the less superior candy... Sweetarts, Laffy Taffy, and they left the Hershey Bars behind! The travesty of it all! Now if they are GIVEN the candy, they should simply say "Thank You" and not act picky, but if a choice is given there is really no choice at all. Chocolate trumps everything, does it not? Oh well, at least their Halloween buckets won't beckon me often.

The Cattle Call

Today I decided, after MUCH deliberation, to try and get the swine flu vaccine for my kids. Our local health department was offering it for free this afternoon. In my naive approach, I figured arriving an hour prior to the start time would be sufficient for a minimal waiting period. Instead, when I pulled up an hour before they opened their doors, there were already 500-600 people in line. I parked, and began to trek to the end of the line, which winded behind a building and started to curve around the parking lot. After five minutes of walking I still had not reached the end of the line, and I decided to scrap it. The media and the health department have lorded over us all the necessity of this vaccine yet, we are expected to herd together like a bunch of cattle and wait for hours on end with young children in a line. Seriously, if I am waiting in line for two or more hours, there had better be a really fun ride at the end of it, not a shot. I barely have the patience for that kind of wait, let alone my four year old and seven year old. There were hard core vaccine waiters too, I mean it looked like they had camped out, with their blankets and lawn chairs. You would think it was the day after Thanksgiving and we were awaiting for the doors to open for some killer sale. I was on the fence about the vaccine anyway,with so many conflicting reports about it, for every doctor that supports it, you will find one that doesn't. The average person can hardly make an educated decision. At any rate, the decision was made for me today.

Anatomy of a Cell

I was quizzing my eldest on her biology...she is seven, and studying cells. I had several different pictures of cells in my hand and was asking her to identify parts of the cell. I flipped through the cell pictures, and murmured to myself, "I don't see flagellum on this cell." She grabbed the pictures out of my hand and handed me a cell picture, and said, "That is because the flagellum is only on the Prokaryotic Cell mom." Hmmm. I think I need to take a biology class again.

The Tooth Fairy

This week my youngest lost her first tooth. Obviously, the Tooth Fairy paid a special visit to our house for the occasion. The next day she was carrying her coveted dollar bill around when she asked, "Mommy is the Tooth Fairy afraid of humans?" I wasn't sure where she was going with that, and I asked, "Why would you ask that?" She answered, "Why else would she come at night when no one can see her?" Good point.

Later that day, after she had shown her Tooth Fairy dollar bill off to a myriad of people, I hear her exclaim, "Well this is just embarrassing!" I walked into the living room, and see that she is looking into the box where the Tooth Fairy had left her dollar, only to see it was still in the box. She had been showing everyone the wrong dollar bill all day long. :)

The Ways of God

Today was one of those days, that I would not want to repeat. Definitely not Groundhog Day material if you get my drift. On my way to church, I received a phone call from my best friend, telling me that a woman from our congregation had been shot and killed by her own son yesterday. The whole thing just seemed completely unfathomable to me. Though I didn't know the woman well, many of my close friends and family did, and it was simply devastating. It is at moments like this where I find myself questioning God. "Do You really know what You are doing? Really?" I can't even begin to understand how something like this can work together for good for those that love Him. I know I am limited in my thinking and understanding, but something like this seems so senseless and heartbreaking. A man has lost his wife, his daughter (who was also shot) is in the hospital, and his son, though mentally ill, is the reason for it all. It is almost too much for me to process from a distance, I can't imagine the thoughts reeling through this man's head. The ways of God are a mystery to me, to say the least. I don't always understand, or even agree (not that He needs my approval obviously), but I keep chugging along with the faith (many times a weak faith) that He has His hand in everything. I have to believe that, otherwise, there would be nothing left for me or anyone else to do but to permanently despair. I have to believe it, though today my doubts creep in, and I wonder where God was? Why didn't He intervene? Lyrics from the Steven Curtis Chapman's song "Higher Ways" have been running through my mind today. I am posting them below.

If I could only fly
I'd go up and look down from the sky
So I could see the bigger picture
And Lord if I could sit with You
At Your feet for an hour or two
I'm sure I'd ask too many questions
'Cause there's so much going on down here
That I must confess I just don't understand

But I have prayed
And at your feet my whole life has been laid
So I wont worry I wont be afraid
'Cause my soul is resting on Your higher ways
Let the road ahead become unclear
I am Yours so what have I to fear
If my soul is resting on Your higher ways

Your higher ways teach me to trust You
Your higher ways are not like mine
Your higher ways are the ways of the Father
Hiding His children in His love

So let it rain
And if my eyes grow dim with tears of pain
This hope I have will not be washed away
'Cause my soul is resting on Your higher ways

Someday I will fly and
Maybe then You will take me aside
And show me the bigger picture
But until I'm with You
I'll be here with a heart that is true
And a soul that's resting on
Your higher ways

If...Then God

Currently, I am attending a weekly Beth Moore Bible Study on the book of Esther. It has been an interesting study thus far, but the video from this last week really resonated with me. At one point she was discussing how freeing it would be to live a life without fear. The most common/repeated command in the Bible is "Do not be afraid." She related a fear that she has struggled with regularly over the last few years and that is the fear that her husband will find a new woman. Not just a woman to have an affair with, but a woman that he loves. "What if she were darlin'?" (Said in her Texan accent.) "What if my daughters liked this new woman?" What if? What if? What if? And when she went through the entire scenario of all the horribleness, she finally came back to God.

Once I became a wife and mother, I became a worrier and fearer extraordinaire. If this happens, then what? I am the queen of the "if". This thought process of going through all the if's, and then realizing that God is still there, still in control, has been very therapeutic. It is not to say that I don't fear or worry at all anymore, but acknowledging that God has his hand on everything in my life, even the small stuff, is kind of a relief. Somehow, I trick myself into believing that I actually have complete control over my life, and the things that happen to me. In the end I am about as in control of my life as I am the Indy Speedway car at Disney World. Sure, I can make the decisions to go faster or slower, drive straighter, or not steer at all, but the track guides me and in the end I end up where I am supposed to go.

Run Like You Are Running From Satan!

Why can't kids be kids anymore? I am so fed up with pressures kids face at such young ages. Already my 7 year old is asking for a cell phone. She has enough money to buy one, not pay for the monthly charges, but she doesn't get that. Since she sees kids a few years older than her with cell phones she thinks she needs one too.

Then we have the issue of dress. 7 year old girls that are being clothed completely immodestly. I understand the clothing industry drives some of that, but do parents not care when their 7 year old looks 13 or 14? Believe me, there is a girl at my daughter's ballet school that I gawk at week after week, because I am flabbergasted and amazed. She is 9, extremely beautiful, but could easily pass for 16 because of the way she dresses and acts. Easily. It is very disturbing.

But I think the thing that makes me the most mad is kids ruining good old fashioned fun for other kids. Up until recently my 7 year old believed that the princesses at Disney World were the real deal. Though she hasn't said it, I suspect she might be onto the truth with that one. However, tonight, my 7 year old came in and confided that a boy had told her that Santa wasn't real. He told her that moms and dads just buy the presents for their kids. I called the boy a giant goober, yes I did, because what kind of brat deliberately ruins the fun for a 7 year old? He is 10. I am cool with people not believing in Santa or celebrating Christmas in a different way from my family, but when their traditions infringe on the fun for my kids it makes me hopping mad. I know that we were on a timetable for the truth coming out, but I would have preferred to have one more year of illusion. I never disputed the boy's claims, but I diverted her attention after the revelation. She may have taken comfort in the fact that I didn't acknowledge it, possibly thinking I thought his assertions were ludicrous. I hope we manage to get through this season with the belief in tact, if we don't, I will manage. It just seems like kids have so little time to dream and just be kids anymore. Being an adult isn't all it is cracked up to be, so why are we rushing children into a miniature adulthood? I remember still dressing up at 11 or 12 in frilly prom gowns and thinking I was the bomb (yes, I realize I have dated myself by using that word)! Honestly, in this day, I can't imagine an 11 or 12 year old girl doing that. And what is worse, other people would probably think a girl was weird if she were playing dress up at that age now.

Let's join forces and start a movement to let kids be kids again. If you have forgotten how childhood works, my husband will give you a few lessons (see previous blog). Then maybe you can give your own kids a few tips.

I will end with the words of Phoebe Buffay in the episode titled The One Where Phoebe Runs:

"You know, I run like I did when I was a kid because that's the only way it's fun. You know? I mean, didn't you ever run so fast you thought your legs were gonna fall off, you know, like when you were running towards the swings or running away from Satan?

The neighbor's dog."

Let's keep that child-like spirit alive in our own children.

Kid at Heart

My husband streams Pandora through his cell phone at work, listening to a variety of music. When things get stale, and he starts hearing all the same songs again or he needs to wake up a little, he switches it up to music that is more "pop-ish". So, he turns to Radio Disney music. Having a "tween" and another little one that like Disney music, we tend to know a lot of the artists and lyrics. However, what happens in his cubicle at work, should probably STAY in his cubicle at work. Sometimes when the network gets busy Pandora will just stop playing. During one of these moments, my husband decided to take a bathroom break. Once the network is not as busy it will automatically start playing music again. Therefore you can imagine his chagrin when he was standing at a urinal, next to another man, and Miley Cyrus begins pseudo-rapping:

Boom, Boom, Clap,

Boom, De Clap, De Clap,

Boom, Boom, Clap,

Boom, De Clap, De Clap,

Boom, Boom, Clap,

Boom, De Clap, De Clap,

How does a nearly 40 year old man explain listening to Miley Cyrus in the bathroom?

Answer: He doesn't even try.

AWKWARD! He tried to laugh a little about it, but the man next to him looked at him like he had lost his mind. I have to say that I love a man secure enough to listen to our kids' kind of music anywhere, even when the kids aren't with him.

Mistaken Identity

I am not having a good car month. I went to the store, and came out to unlock my van with the remote and it would not work. I tried multiple times, wondering what I was going to do. It is a sad commentary to admit that I have gotten so used to using a remote that I actually forgot that I could use a key to get into my car. Anyway, when the thought finally occurred to me, I slid the key in the door, and it would not turn. After having my car freak out on me a few weeks back, and honk like mad, I determined that some weird lockdown had occurred. Walking around the minivan, I was cursing myself for not signing up for AAA. At least then I could have a tow without incurring cost, but I was waiting until closer to our Disney trip. I also, envisioned what kind of a phone conversation would take place between my husband and me; it was not pretty. I get to the passenger door, and of course it would not unlock either. Blasted car! I wanted to howl at the sky I was so frustrated. At this point, I was considering jumping up and down on the back end of it like a gorilla and just venting my rage on the stupid thing when I looked up and saw that parked two spaces down, was another van exactly like mine. Trying to act stealthy, I casually walked over to that van and pointed my remote at it. Yep, it unlocked. Let's just say, I am very thankful I didn't have a major meltdown on someone else's car.

And for the record, I didn't look into the car, because it was the same level of filthy as mine on the outside, so I didn't even consider needing to look inside. It even had a splatter of white paint on it, like my van. In retrospect, I realized that its splatter was in a different location, but at that moment in time, that minor detail did not register.

Double Standards

Life is full of double standards. I am trying to wrap my brain around the latest one I have encountered, and I am not sure how to address it. When people don't share the same beliefs or values I do, I am supposed to accept their different perspectives with little comment, thought, or reaction, and I am considered judgmental or inconsiderate if I show some push back or censorship for the sake of my kids. But if they don't share mine, they can blatantly undermine my values and beliefs repeatedly and vocally disagree with them. This, from their perspective, is completely acceptable. Can someone explain to me, how this can possibly be right?

Twitterpated

I just created a Twitter account. I realize I am behind in the whole Twitter craze, and I am not sure how much I will actually use it, but sometimes it is nice to be able to express something in a one sentence or two. I miss the status updates on Facebook. It was a great way to catch up without having to use email, but since I have sworn that off for the time being, this is my new thing. I am not sure if many of my peer group is actually "twittering", but if you are, you can find me at 1shakespearemom on twitter. I do have to approve you to follow me, because as most of you know I tend to err on the side of privacy, but have no fear, I won't turn away any friends.

The Doctor Is NOT In

I am not sure what I was thinking when I majored in Psychology back in the day. I am the worst when it comes to giving advice. I have a friend going through a particularly rough time lately, and I find myself completely speechless. I listen and give hugs (big deal for me because I am generally not the huggy type), but nothing even remotely profound or helpful comes to mind. It is like all that background has eluded me, and the best comment I can find in my repertoire is, "Wow, that really sucks." Most people aren't really looking for things to be fixed when they are venting, but I am a fixer by nature. I want resolution. I want a plan of action. This is where I can completely relate to how men think. When I lay out my problems, I do want an answer...preferably an easy one. Instead, for this friend, I have nothing. No words of wisdom. No easy fix. I am praying for her, and I have told her that, but the words seem empty. I DO know she appreciates it, but I just don't like feeling helpless. I am a "doer", and beyond prayer there is nothing I CAN do. Obviously, I was never meant to hang a shingle outside my door.

Worship

For me, I am starting to feel like church is becoming less about worship and more about politics and obligations. It is extremely frustrating. Today when I went into service, I didn't do it with a clear head. Conversations prior to the service got things stirring in my mind, as well as, the anticipation of a meeting following the service. I only have the opportunity to attend service twice a month right now, since I am serving in the children's area the other Sundays, so it really bothers me when I can't get my head in the game. But I just didn't feel engaged. I feel more worshipful and connected to God through a weekly Bible Study that I do than anything else right now. I miss looking forward to Sunday morning. Instead, I find I am dragging myself there. It is disheartening when the children's pastor doesn't want to be working with my kids, or any kids for that matter, and announces it almost weekly. It is discouraging that the worship music in the traditional service is stale and old school, but the preaching in the contemporary service is random, nonsensical, and uninspiring. We have recently built a new church, yet we already have space issues, and a handful of people are unwilling to make concessions for the majority's need. These constant games of tug of war and pass the buck are exhausting. Why are we really there? What happened to the point of it all, which is worshiping our Heavenly Father and fellowship? Instead, church has become a business, and in the case of ours, it is starting to feel like a poorly run business. Doesn't anyone else miss what church is supposed to be about?

An Ice Cream Kind of Day

I ate ice cream for dinner tonight. Starbuck's Carmel Macchiato Ice Cream to be exact. It was yummy and wonderful, and though I feel slightly guilty, I also felt like crap today, so I figure I am entitled to a little ice cream pampering. I almost always pass on the ice cream. I really wanted pumpkin ice cream, but apparently, most places wait until October to make that available. I long for the time of year when pumpkin coffee, ice cream, and bread are readily available. Another reason to love the fall! My husband, a gem today, went in search for the desired pumpkin ice cream. He went to three different places for me only to discover no one had it. So those of us who crave it in September are just out of luck. I wasn't in the mood for the chicken that I had originally planned to have for dinner, so my husband made that, and I ate my ice cream. Even though it wasn't pumpkin, it was delicious, and it hit the spot.

Reality Check

The other night I was trying to jog my husband's memory about an actress. I said, "She was in that one movie with Ryan Reynolds." To which he said, "Who is Ryan Reynolds?" This completely exasperated me. How could he not know who Ryan Reynolds was? He saw countless previews for The Proposal. Finally, since his laptop was on his lap, he just googled Ryan Reynolds, because my explanations obviously were not doing the trick. He clicked on the first picture link, and when the picture filled the screen, both of us sat speechless looking at a shirtless Ryan Reynolds. After a long silence, my husband said, "I guess he has a nice chest, huh?" Let me state, that I am not usually taken in by pictures, but WOW! All I could think was, "Well done God!" To my husband's somewhat rhetorical question I answered, "He has quite a few nice things going on there; like his six-pack abs and well-defined arms." I think my candid reply offended my husband. Realizing I was still gawking in pure admiration, my husband closed the webpage, ego deflated. There is no way I could redeem the situation, "Aw honey, you're cute too," didn't quite cut it. But quite honestly, if he looked like Ryan Reynolds, then I would feel compelled to TRY and look like Scarlett Johannson, and nothing short of a boob job and liposuction would get me there. So, while he is great to look at in pictures, I think having a man like that in reality would be a drag...mostly...for the long haul anyway.

September 11th, 2001

The morning of September 11th, 2001 I was waiting at home for the air-conditioning repairman to keep his appointment. I was 7 months pregnant, and air-conditioning was a necessity. It wasn't often that I had a leisurely morning to get ready since I was still in the workforce at that time. Our telephone rang, and my husband told me to turn on the television, because he had just heard one of the Twin Towers had been hit by an airplane. For the next two hours, I sat riveted in front of the television, watching in horror as things unfolded before my very eyes. It was eerily ironic to me that not three weeks before, my husband and I had been in New York City visiting a close friend of mine. We had traversed into the financial district and even walked through the lobbies of the Twin Towers. My husband kept snapping shots of the towers, and my friend and I had been teasing him about taking pictures of buildings. "Whatever will we want those for?" I asked. That answer became clear only a few weeks later. My repairman didn't show, and I went to work. No one was working. Clusters of people were huddled in this cubicle or that one, trying to grasp the magnitude of what had happened. It was so surreal. Several of our employees had been out of town on business, and with airlines shutting down, they resorted to renting cars and driving across country to get home. Everyone just wanted to be with their families. That night my husband and I didn't want to be at home, so we opted to get out, only to find that nearly every business had closed. Our world had stopped, in shock, to mourn.

As I said, I was pregnant, and the terrifying thought that kept playing through my mind was, "What kind of world am I bringing this child into?" I often wonder, if these events contributed in some small part to the postpartum depression that I suffered after my first child was born. After I delivered my baby, the morning I was to be released, the nurse came in announcing there had been a plane crash and it was being investigated to determine if it was another act of terrorism. My safe haven of being in the hospital and enjoying my newborn was suddenly ripped away from me. Later, it was discovered that it was an actual accident, but those months were so very emotional for me. For my generation, it was that "JFK was shot" moment. You just remember where you were and what you were doing.

My thoughts and prayers are with those families today that suffered such a great loss. A whole country was impacted this day 8 years ago, and though some may want to forget, I don't think anyone can.

Honked Off!

Tonight I felt like the biggest fool EVER. I ran to the drugstore and picked up some envelopes, we were out, and I loathe running minor errands with kids, it takes longer to get them out of the car than to just run in and get the item. Following my envelope run, I stopped by the post office...it was closed at the late hour I was there, but I have to send my letters by certified mail tomorrow, so I decided to pick up the forms tonight and pre-fill them out. I loathe taking children to the post office even MORE than minor errands, so the more time I can cut out in line, the better. I got back in my car, locked my door, and then turned on my car, somehow setting off the alarm. The honking was so loud. I frantically hit the panic button. No luck. I opened and shut the door. No luck. I turned my car off, the honking continued. A woman pulled up next to me, and offered her assistance. "Honey, I think if you just hit that red panic button it will stop honking." I tried again, and it miraculously stopped. Breathing a sigh of relief, I turn my car back on, and lo and behold the thing starts honking again. I wanted to crawl under my seat. I called my husband and begged him to tell me how to turn it off, his helpful response was, "I don't know. You are the one with the owner's manual. What did you do?" I thumbed through the book, nothing. The honking continued. I couldn't drive home like that. In exasperation, I slammed my phone shut, and tried to think, but it is very difficult with a horn blaring in your ears. Moments later my husband calls back. "Turn the key forward, and then press the valet button under the dash." I could do that. I turn the key forward, and reach for the valet button only to not be able to find one. "Where is it?" My voice was rising with hysteria. Our post office is maybe a quarter of a mile from the police station, and I just pictured my car being surrounded by cops. Helpful response number two, "I don't know...it says UNDER THE DASH." Nothing. Seriously. Finally, the car stopped honking again. It timed out. So my husband advises me to just drive home, and we will deal with it here. Easy for him to say. I put it in drive and the stupid thing did it again. I tried to look composed, but I felt like an idiot. Everyone kept staring at me, and it was so much louder than a regular horn honking. About halfway home it stopped, and I could at least enter our neighborhood quietly. But, we had to figure out how to turn it off, or else in the morning I would have the same problem. So, we shut the garage door, and my husband went in search of the elusive button. I am pleased to say he could not find one either. Finally, I did another search on the internet, and I yelled over the noise, "Try unlocking the car door with the key!" I want to note here that my husband looked at me like I was insane, but he tried it. Silence never sounded so good. I am sure our neighbors were starting to wonder what the heck was going on in our garage. Now I know what to do if it happens again, but I am hopeful I don't have to relive that experience again anytime soon.

Labor Day Weekend

It has been a busy weekend. My husband and I celebrated our anniversary, and I have to concede he recovered nicely from his faux pas. He DID in fact reschedule the visit with his parents to today and we were able to have our Saturday date day. We went to a not so great movie, and my husband had the nerve to suggest that my movie picking skills were declining. I reminded him that he had made the ultimate movie decision, I had given him a couple to choose from. However, the movie was bad enough that at one point we discussed the possibility of leaving. If you know me at all, that rarely happens, because if I am going to spend money on a movie I will usually endure it to the bitter end. Thankfully, it took a SLIGHT turn toward improving so we stuck it out, but I cannot recommend it to anyone.

Yesterday, we spent a good portion of the day at a revolutionary era festival...is it just me or is the best part of most festivals the food? The offerings were unqiue to the time period, but I have to say that the cream puff I tasted could not be beat. My picky eating children were less satisfied with the options, but that was too bad. We watched a sword swallower sometimes through our fingers, and we saw a clown act that was more comedy than clown, but entertaining nonetheless. Today we spent a relaxed afternoon with his parents, did a little shopping and eating, and now I am winding down...tired from being on the go all weekend.

Hope you had a great weekend too!

Keeping it Light

I admit it. I am a "fluff" reader. I read for pure enjoyment. In fact, I steer clear of anything that might send a message or teach me something. I hate crying over books, and I loathe drama in my reading. As I said, I am all about the fluff. Why? Because life has enough drama of its own. If I am going to spend time with a book then I want it to be escapism. I want it to make me laugh. In fact, when I find time to write fiction I write in a similar vein. I write what I would like to read. Spare me the political, environmental, sexual, and religious tangents. I can read about those in the newspaper or see a program about them on television. Give me the light-hearted stuff anyday in my novel reading. Most of the books I read belong to a series, so I feel like when I get a new one in the series then I am checking in with old friends. In fact, I love introducing my real life friends to my "imaginary" ones. So the next time someone asks me what I am reading, be fully prepared for an answer like "Plum Pudding Murder" (due out in October or September 29th).

Moms' Morning Out

This morning my BFF and I were given two hours of freedom. She had hers because all of her kids are in school for at least part of the day, thanks to preschool, and I had my freedom because my parents graciously took my children for a bit. We decided that we would go to the grand opening of a new discount bookstore and then grab a coffee after. Everything was supposed to be 20% off, and while we knew there were going to be some small giveaways, neither one of us were prepared for the sheer masses that this opening garnered. We arrived three minutes after opening, and there were 300 people in the store. We had to be breaking some sort of fire code. Have you ever tried to look in a bookstore with 300 other people? I looked at a lot of behinds, backs of heads, and even a few armpits. I finally gave up, and helped my friend find a few books. I was getting too frustrated looking for myself. I was poked, bumped, prodded, and only one person even bothered to apologize. I am not a fan of crowds. After about a half an hour, my friend and I called it quits, and approached the line. I am not ashamed to admit I tried to get her to give her purchases to someone we knew that was very close to the register. She said she would feel bad doing that, but after seeing the line stretch all the way to the back of the store I felt less bad about my suggestion. Surprisingly, it only took 15 minutes, but I am not sure what she and I were thinking going to this bookstore on opening day. Optimism is not my strong suit, so maybe I was just very naive that no one else would care about this discount bookstore opening on our side of town. We did enjoy a coffee at Panera, and shared a cup of bogels. If you haven't been to Panera recently, they have taken their Cinnamon Crunch bagel (my favorite) put it in bite size pieces which they call bogels, and then sell it with some cream cheese icing. Heaven! It was a great time, but next time I will skip any grand opening, and just head for the coffee and bogels.

Anniversary Adversity

On a day to day basis I think my husband is fairly brilliant. He has so much knowledge about things and can learn new concepts quickly, sometimes it blows my mind. He just absorbs information. That being said, when it comes to understanding me, sometimes I think he needs to enroll in some sort of special education classes. After 11 years of marriage, you would think, that he would just KNOW how to read me. Clearly, that is not the case. This weekend is our 11th wedding anniversary. We had agreed that we would take Saturday, starting in the afternoon, and do a few special things that I have been wanting to do. We would cap that off with dinner and a movie in the evening. Last night, my in-laws called to say they wanted to come over this weekend. Let me say specifically that I do not mind them coming to visit, BUT, I was a little annoyed with my husband. My in-laws wanted to come on Saturday, now in my perfect imaginary world I would have thought my husband would say something like this, "Hey, that is great that you want to come visit, but we already have plans on Saturday, how about another day?" Instead, he comes to me and asks if it is a problem. That question alone was the problem. Not his parents' visiting. Clearly, Saturday was not that important to him or he wouldn't have asked me in the first place if we could just scrap our anniversary plans. To make it worse, he then says, sensing he should probably do SOMETHING for our anniversary, "could you guys come earlier in the day, that way I can at least take her out to dinner or something." Gee, that was oozing with romance. Perhaps my expectations are too high...or my husband really just doesn't get me. At any rate, he has made the faux pas, so there is no going back, because NOW I would probably just be annoyed at another plan change. Please tell me that by 20 years they have this anniversary stuff down pat.

A Creative Mind

I have been working with my 4 year old, trying to begin the process of learning to read. My 4 year old is unique, in that, she cannot sing the alphabet correctly to save her soul...although at least now it contains ALL 26 letters. However, for over a year she has been able to identify each letter correctly by sight. Last year, she began an AWANA program at a local church where she needed to learn Bible verses. To learn these, I would say the verse for her, and ask her to repeat what I just said. Unfortunately, it would never be anything close to what I had said. I liken it to the Friends episode where Phoebe tries to teach Joey the French language. She tries to break down a French phrase, word by word with Joey, and then asks him to put it all together, and of course it is completely different. If you haven't seen this episode, it is one of my favorites. Anyway, today we were working with the 'm' sound, the short 'a' sound, and the 'n' sound. Mmmmm aaaaa nnnnn. The idea was eventually she would be able to recognize and read the word man. But instead, no matter how many times she looked at it, and we pronounced it slowly, she always said, Muh-an, always changing the 'm' sound from mmm to muh when she needed to put the sounds together. We finally ditched looking at the book, and I had her spell man. She did that excellently. So we moved on to pan. I said, "spell pan."

She said, "ummm Q?"

I sighed. "No, what sound is at the beginning of pan?"

She said, "puh"

I said, "what makes that sound?"

She answered excitedly, "P!"

"Very Good. Now spell the word pan."

"Q-A-N."

We stopped there for today.

Old by Association

Today I was working in the nursery at our church and I had a new volunteer helping me. She is a young woman that has a 5 year old boy and a 2 year old boy. We were chatting while we worked, and she mentioned that she had graduated from Purdue University. Of course, I had to comment that my husband had also attended Purdue, and then came the question..."Really? What year did he graduate?" If I had to guess, I would say at the most, that this woman is MAYBE 28. Maybe. I kind of laughed and I said, "Oh, I am sure he graduated long before you did." She pressed the issue anyway, obviously thinking I was exaggerating, so finally I said, "1993". Her face was classic, "Oh. Wow." Then I was a little offended, "Oh wow, what?" I wanted to ask. "Oh, wow, you are really old?" I am surprised she didn't say, "You look surprisingly young for being that old. Where is your walker?" I am still reconciling MYSELF with the fact that I am no longer a recent college grad or newly married anymore, but I really don't need someone else pointing it out, especially someone young and beautiful. Sigh.

The Emergency Airplane

Today I was working in our office when my eldest came in to show me her latest invention...the emergency airplane. As it was explained to me, this paper airplane will be flown to me if a problem develops in the house while I am on the telephone. The example I was given was "if SOMEONE is bothering me Mom, then I can fly this to you and you can read about WHO might be causing the trouble. Then I don't interrupt you, but you know it is an emergency and can get off the phone immediately." Since I don't have six kids, only two, I figure I could probably narrow down who might be causing my eldest grief on any given occasion without the help of an emergency airplane, but it was creative. I looked at the ingenious little airplane where on each of the wings the word "open" was written, and then once unfolded there was the following message already printed, "My sister is being mean to me. When you get off the phone PLEASE HELP!" I guess my daughter just wants to be prepared. I didn't point out that, generally, when I am on the phone I usually hear if there is trouble, long before a paper airplane could be flown at me. Screaming and hitting are often clear indicators. About 15 minutes following her presentation, my husband and I were sitting in our living room discussing the new invention, when we hear a scream, a slap, and stomping feet. Next thing we see is a paper airplane flying into the living room...I guess it can also be used when we aren't on the phone.

The Devil That You Know

This morning, I had an ENT appointment. I have seen this doctor before, and he informed me on my last visit that I had a deviated septum. Today, when he was examining me, he looked up my nose with his handy dandy nostril spreader, which makes me giggle everytime he uses it, and he announced, "Well, your nose is STILL crooked." I laughed and told him that I didn't figure that would have changed between this visit and my last one. For the time being, we are treating my nasal congestion with a nose spray, but he emphasized that if it stopped working for me then I should probably consider having my nose fixed. Honestly, I am not opposed to fixing the problem, except for one major concern. Every time a celebrity has a "deviated septum" fixed, she (it is always a she) comes out of it with an entirely different nose. I don't LOVE my nose, but I definitely don't hate it either. I would certainly hate to mess with it, and then come out with something that I really don't like at all. Therefore, unless it creates big problems, I shall continue dancing with this devil of a nose that I have known for 30+ years, rather than hedging bets on one I don't know.

Homeschool Fun

It is that time of year again. Public school children are back in class, so I get the evil eye when I am out and about with my school-aged homeschooled child. Today, we went to the library after a morning doctor's appointment, and the librarian kept shooting me strong looks of disapproval. Maybe I need to fashion a sign to hang around my daughter's neck that says, "I'm homeschooled...stop staring." I try not to do random or unnecessary outings during normal school hours for this specific reason, but it was our school system's first day back, and I had forgotten. It really isn't anyone's business, as long as my daughter is getting her schooling done, but I can't help feeling like I am doing something wrong. At least the library is somewhat educational, right? I am excited about a new year of homeschooling though. We started our lessons three weeks ago, and we are doing some interesting things this year. Not to mention, I think we might be able to attend a few more field trips, because my youngest is getting old enough to get something out of them, and not drive me completely insane...well, that is my hope anyway. In a few weeks, my eldest even gets to attend school in a one room schoolhouse with 24 other children. They are supposed to wear 1800's garb, and bring their lunches in a pail or basket. The only bathroom is an actual outhouse. I can't wait to get pictures of her outfit. It is an actual school day, taught by a teacher, and while I can't stay to watch, the schoolhouse is too small, my daughter will have some friends that she knows attending with her.

Now that school has started, this also signifies the start of the fall mayhem. Next week begins the craziness, and I am looking forward to being back in a schedule. When this past May came along I was all too ready to say goodbye to our weekly commitments, one by one. So, it is with some surprise that I am eager for them to start again; piano, dance, AWANA, homeschool gym, homeschool co-op, and regular field trips. Sometimes, I think people don't realize how much a homeschool mom is on the go, well, at least this homeschool mom.

I am off to bed...it's a school night!

Free Personal Chef Needed

I admit it. I really don't enjoy cooking. Obviously, I do it because we need to eat, and we can't afford a personal chef or to eat out every meal. I think one reason I hate cooking is because my family leaves me no room to be creative. My husband is an obscenely picky eater, and my kids, for the most part, follow his lead. Everything has to be pretty basic. Tonight, I made grilled pork chops (seasoned with a barbecue rub), broccoli, and steamed new potatoes lightly salted and buttered. The kids also had applesauce. I was actually pretty pleased with the menu, and everything in my opinion was pretty tasty. But the complaining, the crying, the agony! You would have thought I was trying to force feed my children liver and onions! Silently, I began cleaning the supper dishes while my husband was trying to wrangle a deal with the kids to eat their food. Finally, when he joined me at the sink, I said to him, "This is why I hate cooking. The kids always complain that the food is disgusting." To which my youngest pipes up, "We don't think it is disgusting. We just hate it."

Yep. I SO don't like cooking for my family.

Take That Belly Fat!

Wow! I have to say that I inadvertently discovered a workout that matches sit-ups. Not one that I want to repeat on a regular basis for sure, but my stomach muscles are still aching. I had the stomach flu Wednesday night until Friday morning, and though I was never able to actually throw up I did a heck of a lot of dry heaving. I feel like I did a thousand sit-ups. Okay, so I haven't actually ever done a thousand sit ups in one sitting, but I imagine this is how my stomach would feel had I ever achieved that feat. Thankfully, no one else in my household caught the bug, at least they haven't as of today, so I am hoping that they are in the clear. Now that I am well, I find myself appreciating the things in life, like eating and being vertical, that I normally take for granted. Nothing like the stomach flu to cause a person to regain perspective. Since I obviously can't, won't, and don't desire to maintain this particular workout regimen, I guess I probably should consider working on my stomach muscles in a different manner...probably.

Birthday Girl

All in all, my birthday was a happy one. I was sang too, given cards, flowers, gifts, and overall I was pampered. However, I think the most interesting comment I received today was, "Happy Birthday! Are you actually getting thin again?" Hmm. How do you respond to that? "I don't know, you tell me." Or "I hope so." Or "I don't know, was I getting fat for awhile?" Oh well, I guess it was a sort of compliment, in a very backhanded way. I have found over the years that if I need a reality check on my appearance I should just ask my kids. They are brutally honest, and since today they both thought I looked beautiful (as they said it many times unsolicited) I will rely on those opinions. Another person at church asked how old I was, a question that someday soon will be very impolite to ask, but I jokingly said that I had just turned 29. She said, "Honey, no one believes 29. You either need to go up or down from that age." I said, "Fine, then I am 27, is that better?" I might be able to pass for that. Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, I had a great day and I thank my family and friends for making it that way for me. Love you all!

Guilt

My birthday is coming. So, this is the time of year that family asks, "What do you want for your birthday?" I really want and need some new clothes, and there are a couple of sweaters that I wore so frequently last year I will seriously vomit if I am forced to put them on one more time this year. Last night, I finally broke down and did some online shopping. I can usually tell what will work for my body type and the extra bonus to online shopping is that I can shop for mostly "tall" items. The problem is the whole time I browsed and shopped I kept thinking, "I really could use the money for something else", there is always something. Anyway, I submitted my order with immense hesitation, and then I couldn't sleep. For two hours I laid wide awake feeling guilty about shopping for myself. How crazy is that? I mean it is my birthday, right? Even that argument didn't assuage the guilt. I told my parents today about my shopping "spree" and how I felt about it, and my dad told me that from the time my brother and I were little until we went to college my mom did the same thing. He used to have to force her to spend money on herself. So, I come by it honestly I guess. With that bit of knowledge I am trying to relax, besides my husband isn't phased, so why should I be? If I say that enough times, I might start to believe it. At any rate, my shipment of new sweaters is on its way, and I AM excited (with a dash of guilt).

Forgetting Facebook

Today I walked away from Facebook. It feels strange, but it was time to deactivate my account. The world of social networking is not all it is cracked up to be I have decided. The people that I want to keep in touch with, I always have. It dawned on me that the people that I care about are already a part of my life. Instead, Facebook took on a bizarre turn of reconnecting with people that I lost touch with for a reason, or becoming friends with acquaintances that have always only been acquaintances FOR A REASON. I became caught up in keeping up with everyone's random status updates about trivialities, or playing mindless games that were nothing more than time wasters. So, if you want to keep in touch with me, then read my blog or send me an email. Do not look for me on Facebook or any other social network anytime soon. I have cut the cord, and it is oddly freeing.

Not Mom's Plan

I let my kids dream their dreams. I don't tell them something isn't practical or that they can't do anything. Instead, if their dreams are a little far-fetched I ask them questions about it to show my interest and generally leave it at that. I figure given enough time their dreams will land somewhere else, and I won't have to worry about most of them anyway. However, when my seven year old, proudly balanced her lunch dishes in one hand from table to sink and declared, "Hey Mom! I think I could probably be a waitress when I grow up!" I had to at least temper the dream a little. "Sure" I said. "Maybe that would be a good job while you are in college." My daughter looked at me like I was nuts. "No Mom. I meant maybe that is what I could be. A waitress. That WOULD be my job." Grasping at straws, I started using big words, "Well, that is more of a TRANSITIONAL job." I am used to my kids dreaming BIG dreams, and this one was so average I couldn't quite reconcile myself with it. I should not have even bothered trying to rationalize the "dream", because this only prompted more questions. Oh well, from now on I shall stick with my original policy on the "dream" front, even if it isn't what I envision for my kids.

A New Kid By Friday

Sometimes the whole parenting game eludes me. Sometimes I just need a refresher. And sometimes I just need help. I heard about this book called, "Have a New Kid By Friday", by Dr. Kevin Leman. I have liked a couple of his other books, and thought, why not? Honestly, I am not far enough into the book to give a glowing or negative review. However, I had to wait two months to finally get it from the library. There was apparently, a long list of people that wanted new children by Friday. I probably should have just bought the book, but I hate spending money on something sight unseen, so I waited. When I finally picked up the book from the library, my kids were with me, as they usually are. I tossed the book into the front passenger seat, and I heard the indignant, "WHAT is THAT book called?" This was from my very fluent reader. I picked it up, read the title aloud, and started the car. I wasn't prepared for the onslaught of protestations, demands, and idle threats. Such as, "I am going to read that book first and make sure I don't do anything it says." "Why do you want us to change?" "You had better not read that book!" And so on. Part of me wanted to say, "This right here. This little tantrum, is EXACTLY why I am reading the book." My seven year old just doesn't get, that it really isn't all about her or her younger sister. It is about equipping me to be a better parent (assuming the book pulls off its promise). We will see how it goes. If it is excellent, maybe I will buy all my friends copies.

The Men in My Life

Father's Day seems like a great time to refllect on the blessings that I have regarding the men in my life. I have probably always been a Daddy's girl, it just goes with the territory of fathers and daughters, and now my own girls are also Papaw's girls. As I have grown, I have developed a deepening respect for my father, and the sacrifices that he has made for me, and the many women in his life. With very little noticeable effort my dad is able to calm me and reason with me. His subtle humor has always been appreciated, and I like to think I inherited some of that. When I married, it wasn't really my goal to marry someone like my dad, but I think I managed it anyway. My husband teases that Freud would have a field day with me. Somehow, I even managed to talk my husband into growing a beard! (My dad has pretty much always had a beard.) I love that my husband can make me laugh without even trying. I love that he has a soft heart, probably softer than he even wants to admit. I love that my girls love their Daddy, and I love that he is strong in the areas that I feel weakest. My dad has an amazing faith that has grown over the years, and my husband has a growing faith that touches my heart. These men have shaped me into the woman that I have become, and I am so very thankful for their influence and love. I feel blessed to have both of them in my life. Happy Father's Day!

Decisions, Decisions

I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  Most people probably think I should have this all figured out by now, as I am not exactly a teenager anymore, but I am more stumped now than when I was in high school.  I have been thinking that I "do" a lot of things, and I enjoy most of them, but the problem is that none of them are strictly "for me".  With the economy being in the dumper, there is that small urge to somehow contribute to my own family's economy, but I don't want to work a job for the sake of working a job.  I love being at home, and homeschooling my kids, so whatever I do needs to fit around those desires and be something that I WANT to do.  I guess you could say that I want my cake and eat it too.  My husband has endless vision and pursuits that he wants to accomplish, but with me, there is no one thing that is crystal clear, that screams to me "that's it!" I am kicking around the possibility of going back to school.  I know where my general interest lies, but translating that into a worthwhile employment venture that I know I would love, seems daunting.  Plus there is the OVERLY practical side of me, that says, "school costs too much money", or "what if I fail?"  I seriously doubt I would fail academically, but what if I fail at translating that additional education into a "career". My husband prompted these ambitious thoughts, because I always support him in what he wants to do, but now he wants it to be his turn to support me.  I don't want the opportunity to slip away, but I am confused and maybe a little scared.  I have been the supporter for so long now, I don't know if I know how to actually be the doer anymore.  

Sibling Justice

Greetings from the delinquent blogger!

My children often bring me the greatest joy in life, but at times they can contribute largely to my frustration factor as well.  Tonight, my youngest gave me a good laugh, one that I kept hidden until she had left the room mind you, but it also made me contemplate the pleasure that my kids bring me without them even realizing it. 

I sent my eldest to the bedroom to put on her pajamas, and like her shadow, my youngest was hot on her heels.  I stood in the kitchen talking to my husband when not two minutes later we hear screaming, followed by loud stomping back down the hallway toward the kitchen (this would be where the frustration factor comes in).  Hands on hips, my four year old declares, "I went to make sure sissy was putting on her pajamas, and she wasn't, so I hit her in the stomach to get her to put on her pajamas, and THEN she hit me in the face!" If a four year old could be outraged by this "injustice" then that would be the word I would use to describe her tone and mannerisms. My husband and I exchanged THAT glance, and I asked, "You hit her in the stomach?"  And she said, "Let's just skip that part.  She hit me in the face!"  Strong emphasis was placed on the latter part.  Clearly she was hoping that I would simply ignore her part in the altercation, but the way she phrased it just made me want to laugh.  In the end, I simply said, "Well it sounds like you are even." I can just see future explanations coming from her, "I went to make sure sissy put on her pajamas, and yada yada yada, she hit me in the face!"

Straight from the Paris Runway

My youngest spends a lot of each day wearing dress up clothes.  We have several wardrobe changes throughout the day to accomodate different imaginary events.  During the winter months, I vigilantly tried to maintain some warmth boundaries, i.e. put the dress up clothes on OVER your normal clothes. It requires work on my part to stay consistent with that rule given how many times a day she does change clothes, both dress up and normal clothes. Anyway, since today was cooler, I encouraged my youngest to follow the same guidelines, as we did in the winter, though her clothes were not nearly as heavy as they were a few months ago.  She wanted to put on a frilly dress with no sleeves, and announced that it simply wasn't comfortable wearing it over her normal shirt and her leggings.  I told her that was too bad, and if she didn't like the rule she could select another outfit in which to play dress up.  To put it mildly, she was indignant.  She stormed over, frilly dress in hand, and said, "Mom, fashion models DO NOT wear pants under their dresses!"  I wasn't aware that I was raising a fashion model.  How remiss I have been!

God the Healer

Today my four year old was snuggling with me on the couch, and while we were snuggling we chatted about the day.  During our conversation she announced that she had gotten hurt earlier when she had been at Mamaw and Papaw's house.  She showed me her microscopic boo boo on her wrist, and she explained how she had gotten it (suffice it to say she was doing something she knew she shouldn't).  I asked, "Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?"  And she said, "No thanks mommy.  God is already taking care of it for me."  I loved it.  Sure it is bittersweet when your little one doesn't need you to kiss her boo boos anymore, but how great is it that she had that feeling of confidence in God at her age?  I hope that this is just the beginning of a pattern, and she will turn to Him in all things.

Following the Rules

My youngest cannot tell time, though she wears a watch as if she can.  She repeatedly looks at her wrist and says things like, "My watch says 10 minutes".  Yesterday I was cleaning the kitchen, muddy paw prints covered my floor, dishes needed to go in the dishwasher, and the usual counter clutter accumulation needed to be addressed.  I had been working in there for about a half an hour when my youngest stalks into the kitchen and looks at her watch.  She announced in her sternest voice, "My watch says 12 minutes.   If you are not done cleaning when it says 30 minutes then I am going to have to give you a time out!"  With that she exited the room.  I cleaned a bit longer, and about 15 minutes later she says, "time is up."  I put my mop away, and held my hands up as if defeated, "I'm done.   No more cleaning."  I am always looking for an excuse to avoid housework and a time out from my child was as good as any I could fabricate.

Not Your Way at Subway

Today I went to Subway.  The only reason I selected this place to eat is that I can eat relatively healthy there, and usually I can find something for both my kids now that they serve a pizza.  My youngest will not eat any kind of sandwich but grilled cheese, so pizza is the option that suits her best.  However, on this particular day, at this particular Subway we encountered the only one in the area that does not serve pizza.  The reason being, there is a small pizza place two doors down from them, and there is some sort of legal ramifications for Subway if they sell their pizza at this location.  Great.  I asked for just a small section of bread instead.  That would tide her over until we got home where she would eat.  The man starts to ring up my order, and charges me $3.50 for a six inch piece of bread.  I said, "Excuse me.  I don't think so.  That is more than an entire kids meal."  He said, "Sorry, we can't just sell bread.  We have to charge you the equivalent of a veggie sub."  This really irritated me, and I said, "I can buy more than a loaf of bread at the store for that.  I am not paying $3.50 for a piece of bread.  Make it a kids meal then with nothing on the bread, and I will pay that."  At least then I could get a drink and a side for my daughter.  He said, "Nope.  I can't do that either.  This is six inches of bread, and a kid's meal sandwich has only four inches bread."  I don't know if he was trying to be a turd or what, so I answered back, "Then cut two inches off."  Really, it wasn't like they weren't winning out of the deal, because they were getting to keep the meat.  But again he wouldn't comply.  I seriously felt like just walking out and leaving the entire order right there at the cash register.  I don't TRY to be difficult, but I guess I am.  At any rate, my youngest ended up with a cookie and a chocolate milk for lunch.  I was chagrined about this unhealthy turn of eating events, but my youngest was ecstatic.  At least for awhile Subway has lost my business.

My Literal Child

My kids are preparing to sing a song with the children's choir for our church's Easter musical.  We have a conflict with the actual choir practice time, so they are to learn the song on their own, and they will attend the rehearsals when or if they can.  Today, I played the song for the first time, "Sing Hosanna".  My kids liked the upbeat song, but when it was over my eldest said, "Mom?  Who is Hosanna and why are we telling him to sing?" 

Ridiculous Rebates

Most of the time I avoid rebate items like the plague, unless it is an instant in-store rebate.  However, in November my husband needed a new phone, and we were buying it, regardless of the fact that there was a rebate being offered on it.  The rebate was for $100, and it just seemed as though it were an added bonus to get $100 off the phone we wanted.  I put everything we needed together in a bag, and decided to look at it closely when I got home.  Well, the catch was the phone needed to be activated for three months before you could send in the rebate.  So, I put everything back in the bag, and it has sat on my counter for three months.  Most people probably would have tossed it, I am sure that is what the company offering the rebate was hoping, but not I.  It became a mission to send in that rebate information. Today I pulled out the paperwork because the deadline is looming; it must be postmarked by the last day of February.  I completed the forms with ease, attached the upc code and receipt, made copies, and then I notice the fine print.  Please do not expect your rebate for at least 15 weeks.  15 weeks!  Sometime in June we should be enjoying that $100 rebate.  All the wait and the work it hardly seems worth the money.   Really I don't know why companies even bother.  It is obvious that they don't want to pay the rebates by how difficult they make it to even get them in the first place.  A less anal retentive person would, I am sure, never receive the benefit of a rebate, but I shall prevail!

When Imaginary Friends Go Bad

Earlier today, while I was in the kitchen, I heard my youngest howling.  My eldest was working on schoolwork at the kitchen table, so I knew she was not the cause.  Rushing down the hall, I fling open the playroom door to find my little one sobbing.  "What happened?"  I asked.  She was crying so hard that she couldn't speak.  I picked her up and asked again, "What happened?  Did you hurt yourself?"  Through her sobs she manages to utter, "Rosie hit me."  I was a little bit exasperated.  Rosie is her imaginary friend, and not a nice one at that.  I said, "You tell Rosie that she is not welcome at our house anymore."  Really.  I have enough to worry about with my two real children getting along.  I don't need to throw an imaginary one into the mix.  She seemed to perk up at my demand, and I thought maybe, just maybe, we could get rid of Rosie once and for all.  Then a couple of hours later I hear her talking to Rosie again.  I said, "I thought I told you that Rosie wasn't allowed to come over here anymore."  My youngest looks at me as though I am the dumbest person in the world.  "Mom.  That Rosie was the Rosie with ORANGE hair.  This Rosie has blue hair."  Oh.  My bad.  

Don't Mess With Me

Today has been one of those days where everything has kind of made me feel edgy.  My children have not been able to keep their hands off one another, and we are not talking hugs.  My youngest has an offensive spitting habit, that she thinks is cute, but is rude and annoying.  We have been preparing for the world's longest Valentine's party that we have to attend tomorrow...3 hours!  When we signed up to attend I thought it would be to exchange some cards, have some cupcakes, and be done.  After all, I want my kids to be able to enjoy these types of things, but 3 hours seems a bit extreme.  We spent this afternoon decorating shoe boxes as Valentine themed mailboxes, and my eldest carefully selected which cards she wanted to give to 40 different people.  After a couple of hours, I was losing my mind. I resorted to helping her fold the cards and place the stickers on them to keep them closed, so that I could eventually have my kitchen table back.  It did amuse me however, that she chose to give a Snow White card to one little girl, because she was still mad at this girl for tearing her shirt (accidentally) the last time she saw her. The little girl won't have a clue, but my eldest does not like Snow White, so in her mind, it is payback at its finest.  I needed to run to the grocery after my husband got home, and the grocery never seems to go well as of late.  Our local store was running a sale on half gallons of milk for $1, but the kind we drink was all out.  The man working in the back said to just tell them up front and they would give me the same price for a regular gallon.  I grabbed two gallons, and headed for checkout.  I was three feet from entering a line, I had 11 items, when an older man with a cart overflowing darted in front of me.  He just stared at me.  I so badly, wanted to say something, but I bit my tongue and got in a different line.  Then the twerp ringing up my order, said that he could not give me the same price on the milk, because they just don't do substitutions.  I explained that the man working in the back had been telling a lot of people that they did in fact do substitutions, and they needed to get their stories straight.  He offered me a RAIN CHECK for milk.  I said, "I don't want a rain check for milk that I need today."  He informed me that I could pay full price.  To the annoyance of everyone in line behind me I said, "You need to call a manager over."  So what does the twerp do?  He calls the manager over, and says, "Oh, and bring a raincheck with you."  The associate manager came to the lane, and I explained the situation.  She told him to ring it up at the discounted price, and she would go have a word with the guy working in the back to set him straight.  I couldn't help but feel slightly triumphant. as the cashier looked annoyed that he didn't win this argument.  I probably would have backed down if I had not been told by a store employee that I would not be charged the higher price.  I am still a bit on edge, and my husband has sent me to bed, which was probably wise.  Hopefully, tomorrow I will feel more like myself, but maybe not, I have the world's longest Valentine's party to endure.

Don't Count Your Chickens Even When They've Hatched!

Last week, with great excitement and anticipation, I deposited our first rent check in over a year for our rental house.  It had finally arrived!  My husband jokingly asked me if I felt like things had improved since President Obama had been in office for a full day and I said, "Well OUR economy certainly improved today." Things were looking up, until Friday that is.  That was the day that we received word from our rental management company that their bank had made an error, and for some reason there were non-sufficient funds to cover our check.  They told us they thought they had caught the error in time, and hopefully nothing negative would result because of it. Today, the amount of the check was removed from our bank account.  I nearly cried.  My frustration has reached its pinnacle, because nothing ever seems to go well with this house.   I can't even muster up confidence that this will be resolved in a timely manner.  So, today I left messages, and sent emails, and we will see when they will get back to us.  This, coupled with two days of being housebound has made me a little irritable.  

Jackpot!

My car needed washing, like most of the cars in middle America I am sure.  So I took out some cash from the ATM, and my husband and I went in search of a car wash that was not super busy.  It took minimal legwork, and we found one that had an automatic car wash, as well as a manual car wash.  My husband decided that if he did it himself it would be cheaper, and I didn't care as long as he removed the majority of salt from my car.  I handed him my $20 bill, and said that there was a guy working the window that could probably give him change.  He disappeared around the corner, and I waited, and waited.  Finally, he returns with hands cupped wide, as I realize he is coming back with ALL quarters.   I put my window down, "What, he couldn't give you bills?"  And my husband sheepishly admits, "Actually, I put it in the 'changer' machine.  I had never put a $20 bill in one of those before."  I was flabbergasted. What exactly did he think was going to happen?  It was much worse than the post office. I put a $20 bill in a stamp machine once, but at least I got back $1 coins.  He hands over 80 quarters to me, and says, "It was kind of exciting.  It was like I had just hit the jackpot, because the quarters just kept coming and coming."  Yeah, except the $20 was already ours to begin with.  The car wash cost a mere 16 quarters, and now I am trying to figure out where I can pay for things in all quarters without being completely annoying.

Not So Handy

Tonight all heck broke loose during my dinner preparation.  It is like my family signed a pact to go looney at the same time.  My kids were screaming about inane things, my dog was howling, and my husband called expecting me to idly chit chat with him on his drive home.  During this fiasco I overcooked the rice, and then I burned my fingers on the grill, specifically my thumb and index finger on my right hand.  At that point, I was done.  I had hit my wall of being able to multi-task in the chaos.  My husband had arrived home at this point, and I pointed to the remaining meat yet to make it to the grill.  "If you want to eat, you fix it."  My fingers throbbed and I ran them under cold water and then held ice for a while.  We managed to get through dinner and clean-up without my fingers causing me much pain.  Therefore, when we left after dinner to run errands I thought little about my fingers.  I drove, because I was going to drop my husband off to get a haircut, and about two miles from our house the pain began again in my fingers.  I could barely concentrate on my driving.  Finally, in desperation, I placed my thumb and index finger on the cold window while I drove, somewhat awkward since it was my right hand, but the coolness afforded me some relief.  My husband looked over and said, "Are you giving someone the "loser" sign?"  I looked down at my hand, and sure enough my fingers were placed to give relief to the burns, thus making a perfect L shape or loser sign.  I started to giggle, because I had been driving this way for a bit, and had even been stopped at a stoplight.  It did look like I was going to a lot of effort to signal to other drivers that they were "losers".  While my husband was getting his haircut, I ran a quick errand and then came back to wait for him.  The inside coolness of the window wasn't cutting it anymore, so I opened the window and touched the outside.  Then I decided the window was down to far, and hit the up button, just to make sure it would go up a bit, of course my window did not stop, hence it then crushed my fingers.  Which hurt like heck.  The plus side to this is that it distracted me from the throbbing burning sensation on my fingertips, and I  focused on the bone crushing sensation at the knuckles.  Really, I couldn't take it anymore.  I had to drive all the way home to get an ice pack.  My husband deemed me pathetic, and took over the driving from there.  The crazy thing is there aren't even any blisters where I burned myself, just little indentations, so you wouldn't think it would hurt as badly as it does.  I think I will survive, but it has not been a pleasant evening.

Stained and Cursed

My youngest has a pale pink outfit that she wears with some regularity.  It satisfies my requirements for winter wear because "pants" are involved, albeit they are technically leggings. Her requirements are met because the sweater that accompanies the leggings is technically a "dress", and she is all about the dresses.  It is a win-win situation for both of us, or at least in theory it is.  The problem is, that unlike any other outfit she wears, this one is a magnet for stain disasters.  I swear every time she puts these clothes on it is like chocolate, tomato sauce, juice, oatmeal, poop, urine, blood, markers, paint, you name it, fall out of the sky to stain and taint some part of this outfit.  I can't tell you how many times I have had to treat and soak this outfit prior to washing.  If I didn't like it so well, I probably wouldn't bother.  I am not what you would call a Martha Stewart type of gal, if a stain doesn't come out with minimal effort I consider the garment to be lost forever.  But because this has been a favorite, I labor, and I will be honest I am starting to not like the outfit quite so much.  I am very eager for the approach of warm weather, so that I can toss this outfit, and avoid further stain removal from it.

Something's Fishy

My family has been trying to eat healthier, so in an effort to promote healthier food choices my husband and I picked up fish to cook.  You know, the non-breaded kind...the "real" stuff.  Tonight was the first night we cooked the fish.  Tilapia.  It didn't smell "fishy", at least not initially, so that was a thumbs up from me.  I really don't like "fishy" fish if that makes sense.  We allowed our kids to sidestep this particular meal, since we were not sure how it would go over with us, let alone them.  It looked decent, my husband and I sat down, and I took my first bite.  The kids were watching me intently, so I tried to mask my sheer horror. I hated it.  I swallowed quickly and looked at my husband.  "What's wrong?" he asked.  I shrugged, and stood up to get the ketchup.  Really, I needed something to mask the taste.  He took a bite and declared, "It's not bad."  I looked at him in disbelief.  Um, yeah, whatever.  I doused mine in ketchup and chewed and swallowed as fast as I could.  I would set a good example for my kids.  I let them know it was not my favorite food, but I wanted them to see that I could eat it without complaining.  As my husband and I finished our food, I asked him if he wanted more.   Lucky us, we had leftovers.   "Um no." He answered very quickly, so I knew that he thought it was way worse than he was letting on earlier.  Maybe we just didn't season it right, I don't know, but I am not feeling inclined to cook much tilapia anymore.  Blech!

The Fun Chores

We had a bit of a rough day today.  I was declared a "very mean mom" in a very loud voice.  I won't bore you with the details that earned me this title, but I figure it is some sort of rite of passage that is to be expected.  Anyway, one portion of the discipline that was issued was that my eldest was responsible for cleaning the playroom.  The wailing that ensued was fairly drastic and borderline ridiculous.  But the announcement that followed was priceless, "You take all the fun chores and give me all the really hard chores!"  I had to ask, "Which ones would those be?"  Through tears she said, "You get to mop the floors, and do the dishes, and change the sheets on the beds, and I have to clean the playroom!"  It was all I could do not to laugh. Who knew I was being so selfish?  "Fine.  You do my chores and I will clean the playroom."  I plopped a large load of clean laundry on the couch, and said,"Have at it.  Fold it and put it all away."  She held up a pair of underwear, "How do I fold these?"  Then a shirt of my husband's, "I don't know how to fold this either."  I provided some quick lessons and she worked on the laundry, although I helped.  I gave her the sheets for the beds. "Go ahead and make the beds up."  She held the fitted sheet, and kept turning it around and around.  "I think I might need help with this too."  I assisted with the first fitted sheet and left her to it.  By this time my husband arrived home, and I needed to run a quick errand, so I guess she thought this provided a hiatus from doing my chores.  I arrived home, beds still unmade, and more laundry to tackle.  I sent her to finish the "fun" jobs.  This was followed by a fit of tears.  Deciding that I wanted to sleep in my own freshly made bed tonight I opted to make my own while she worked on hers. We ended up working side by side most of the evening. By the time it was bedtime, my eldest had a master plan for tomorrow,  which included that tomorrow we would both work on the playroom together since I helped her finish the "fun" chores today.  She even capped the night off with a very affectionate, "I love you mommy." 

A Little Kiss and Tell

Lately my youngest has been showered with a lot of attention and kisses.  One reason being is emotionally she has had a very hard time with the recent death of my aunt.  We probably wouldn't have clued into this emotional distress, but she has developed a case of rapid eye blinking.  My husband and I took her to the doctor for evaluation, and the doctor determined that it was most likely a result of "stress".  He felt that it would pass in a few weeks or months, without doing anything about it, and that we should just ignore it.  We were also told to make an extra effort to give her one on one time and attention.  Naturally, everyone has been worried about her...some days it is worse than others.  But we all find ourselves kissing that little one a lot more lately, perhaps to reassure her or maybe even to reassure ourselves that everything will be all right.  At any rate, my little one said to me the other day, "Mommy sometimes I want to wipe away kisses. I answered, "That's okay.  I understand that.  Sometimes kisses are too wet." She proceeded, "You don't have sweaty kisses mommy.  Your kisses are always just right for me."  Little cutie patootie.

Looking for Balance

Is it possible to feel energized and overwhelmed all at once? If so, those would be the two words describing my attitude today. I am trying to get my ducks in a row regarding the new year, our homeschooling activities starting again next week, and the several extracurricular activities reconvening next week as well. In addition, my family is trying to work out a schedule of taking care of grandma, making sure she has someone to help her out with day to day things. That will take probably at least two or three hours one day a week as I will be on the "schedule". But today is the first day in awhile that I have felt energized to even contemplate upcoming tasks and events. The last several days have more or less been about "avoidance". In fact, I have managed to finagle two movies this week alone at the movie theater. My family hardly ever goes to the movies at the theater, but it is the best place to sit back and get lost in another world. Until today, I haven't even felt like picking up a book to read, but even that desire is starting to return. At the same time, this return of energy, has also brought feelings of burden. I am already looking at my 2009 schedule with some trepidating, and feeling like there is so much to do, that I am not sure when I will be able to get it all done. I don't want to live my life in a blur of activities, that I do, but don't enjoy. My kids need routine and stability, but at the same time, they need time to just "be", without us running out the door to do "something". So, as I look at our schedule and upcoming events, my theme for 2009 is going to be about "balance". I am going to learn to say "no", to things that don't benefit my entire family. My resolution this year is to back off on overcommiting myself.

My Guy

Being a stay at home mom I don't have the occasion to dress up much. Our church is fairly casual, so there really is no need on that front to wear dressy clothes either. I have a few staples of dress clothing that I whip out when needed, but that really doesn't happen often. This week, as you probably can ascertain, I needed to dress up for my aunt's funeral. I have plenty of black skirts, four I think, so I was covered on that end, but the day of, I realized I had no hosiery suitable for wearing. I called my husband, and asked him to pick up some black hosiery on his way home from work. He was obliging, and I didn't think much of it. Until of course, he arrived home. He handed me the bag and there were two boxes in it. He mumbled that it was buy one get one free. I said, "Oh. Well, thanks." He then said, "Um, I don't want to buy hosiery anymore. Tampons are fine, because people KNOW those aren't for me, but hosiery COULD have been for me. And then the lady at the register informed me that it was buy one get one free, so I had to leave the line to go back and get another pair. It was a long line of people that watched me get another pair." So my thought for today is that you know you have a good man when he is willing to purchase your hosiery on his own, in front of a lot of other people.