Does This Mean I'm a Grown-Up?

Spull Spelin Spelling Test

2011-12-12T22:32:00.002-05:00

As you may have read, The Baby is in kindergarten...again. In all fairness to him, it was a birthday thing. He turned 5 last year on the first day of school, while all his classmates were turning 6 during the year. Boys being slower to mature (sometimes they never do), we held him back another year. It's turned out to be a good decision.

My friends, Kindergarten now is nothing like when we were there. Gone are the days of coloring and naps. Now they actually learn Math, Reading, Writing, etc. On Friday The Baby brought home a spelling test - he got a 100%. I was so proud of him that I posted it up on the fridge right next to the one and only note he's ever gotten for good behavior (the reams of notes for bad behavior are in file 13 *sigh*).

Our conversation this morning:

Me - Dude, I am SO proud of you for that awesome spelling test!

Him - It was no big deal.

Me - Are you kidding? You got them all right!

Him - Well she gave us the answers.

Me - Huh? She gave you the answers?

Him - Yeah. She told us what words to write.

.....

Yeah, it took me a minute, too.

Clearing The Cobwebs

2011-11-29T10:26:00.002-05:00

No this is not a post about housework. I know you are disappointed. I would be too, as housework is one of my favorite things. *cough cough*

Instead this is a "catch up" post of sorts. I have often thought of writing here again, but then that stupid Facebook would get in the way. Really, it's so much easier to dash off a quick "one-liner" in my status, then ~~stalk~~ catch up with friends before heading off to my games. Ah yes, the games. A friend pointed out that the games on Facebook require no skill at all and consist of just clicking on things. Whatever. For the record, "Debbie Downer" has been an addict of Farmville for over a year now, while *I* gave it up for lent. Of course I have moved on to other games, but I digress...

Here's a quick run-down for anyone keeping score:

#1 Son is now a sophomore in college.

The Princess is a junior in HS and has her driver's license. You have been warned.

The Baby is in his second year of Kindergarten. We're beyond proud.

C. & I are in the middle of a divorce. Don't cry for me Argentina. It was a long time coming, and we're OK with it and getting on with our lives.

Me? I've ~~gotten a real job~~ changed careers.

Should be lots of fodder for future posts. Right now though, I need to go. My virtual food should be ready to serve in Cafe World.

Lasagna For My Friend (Redux)

2010-05-05T23:46:00.003-04:00

Personally, I think I make *THE* best homemade lasagna on the planet. I'm not making that statement lightly. It takes me an entire day to assemble this thing and every component is made from scratch. I don't lay the eggs of course, but you know what I mean. The sauce itself is to DIE for.

I think I love this dish SO much because my mother made it when I was a kid. She got the recipe from one of the relatives - my Grandmother? An Aunt? I can't remember, but *OH* do I remember Mom making it.

In my house as a kid, on the actual day of your Birthday, you got to choose the dinner menu - anything goes! I carry on this tradition today. It never ceases to be interesting. I remember #1’s choice one year when he was about 6. It was the ever popular "Stuffed Pepper Filling Without The Yucky Pepper Part." The Princess regularly chooses Pasghetti With Macaroni & Cheese.

When I was a kid though, the BIGGEST treat that I could imagine was when my Mom made lasagna. I chose it as my birthday dinner EVERY single year. Maybe it was so exciting because Mom had to make it the day before and it was a two day affair? Maybe it was because she only made it once a year? I'm not sure, but this lasagna became not just a meal for me, it became an "event!"

It's probably no surprise then, that if I really want to impress a dinner guest, if I really want to send the message that you're a part of our family (God help you), lasagna it is. It was the first "major meal" that I cooked for C. when we were dating, and to his credit he was smart enough to say it was better than his Mom's lasagna. #1 now requests it annually. Ah tradition.

Somewhere over the years Coach became a member of our family. So much so that without thought, I pulled out the old lasagna recipe for his last birthday, because hey - that's what he chose. Coach is like my little brother - you know the one, the "Dennis the Menace" that you have to keep out of trouble? Yup...that's him. He's beyond a role model to my children. He actually gets C.’s humor - which believe me, is a gift. Coach is my friend. He has become my sounding block. He's even my voice of reason sometimes (and if you know either of us at all, that should probably scare you).

Last night our family gathered around the old lasagna pan again…because it’s what we do. Because I suppose that in our family, lasagna means we love you.

Godspeed Coach.

Lots Of Work

2010-05-05T00:41:00.002-04:00

Crap.

Here's my list of "things to do:"

1) Clean up all the dead links (makes me a little sad).

2) Get rid of the old Haloscan code for commenting (since I'm not going to be forced to pay for this new Echo thing - Blogger comments work fine now - they didn't when I went with Haloscan all those years ago).

3) See 1 & 2 above - that means trying to figure out the logins & passwords I used for my Blog "extras" like counters, "usage graphs," comments, etc. This could get ugly...or at the very least, painful.

4) ...well I've forgotten what 4 is already. I'm distracted by the fact that it's probably time to harvest my crops. What do you want from me?

Maybe I DO Have More To Say?

2010-05-04T23:04:00.002-04:00

So I find myself wanting to explain my Facebook statuses in greater detail lately. Perhaps I really do have more to say and should rev this thing up again.

Mourning

2009-04-02T21:46:00.001-04:00

I am beyond sad that the last ER is on tonight.

Mean Girls

2009-03-30T23:34:00.003-04:00

So I've reluctantly gotten into this Facebook craze. Trust me, for MONTHS I resisted. Several of my seasoned friends (we don't say "OLD," we say seasoned) had been relentlessly bugging the crap out of me to "get a facebook." I have had all kinds of rational reasons why that would never happen - people lose their jobs, there are some people I probably don't want to find, etc. etc.

I finally bit the proverbial bullet about a month ago while doing a "routine sweep" of #1 Son's page. Yes, the kids are on the computer (Facebook and MySpace "respectively"), but the rule is that at any time C. or I can have them log-on to their account and turn the keyboard over to us so we can read everything. Hey, when they pay for their own high-speed connection, they can plead "privacy" issues. Call it our checks & balances system.

But I digress...

So I was on #1 Sons account one night and I looked up several of my old...uh, seasoned friends. Turned out that this Facebook thing is pretty cool. So I joined. I added like 6 friends (the people who had been pestering me to join).

Within days, I had all these friend requests from former high school classmates. How cool was this?!

"Oh, I remember him! I haven't seen him since graduation, how the heck is he doing? ADD."

"Man, I haven't seen him since our 15 year reunion! We should catch up! ADD."

"It's her! He were such good friends in school - us against the world. Too bad we grew apart! ADD."

"Yay! She was so popular in school and I loved that she always made time for me. Add."

"Wow. I didn't know that she even knew who I was. Add."

"Yeah. She never really spoke to me during our whole 3 years in HS. add."

"Um...she was a witch to me for three miserable years. Why in God's name has she now added me as a friend on Facebook? ...add...I guess."

"Dear Lord, you were the snootiest, most hateful, stuck up chick (with the biggest hair) who only wore designer clothes and looked down on 98% of us....Uh...Ignore."

My friends, I hypothesize that the number of "Facebook friends" that the "popular High School crowd" has, directly correlates with how miserable and insecure they are in adulthood. It's all about quantity rather than quality. But then again, hasn't it always been?

Expanding Our Family By A Daughter

2009-03-26T22:55:00.002-04:00

Oh Dear Lord NOOOOO!!!!

I'm not pregnant. If I was, you would have read about it in my local paper (or have seen it on your local news on a slow news day). I would have made Greg Louganis proud with my header off the tallest building downtown.

No friends, it looks like we might become an "emergency host family" for a foreign exchange student. A sweet girl who happens to be on #1 Son's crew team, had the proverbial rug pulled out from her last weekend. Her host family suffered a "crisis" and she was put out (long story, but suffice it to say that I have no sympathy for the "crisis."). Her only options were...well, the bottom line was that her only option was to go home early and lose an entire year of school. For something that was not her fault. Suffice it to say that we thought, "what if it was one of OUR kids in the same situation? What would we want?"

So here we are. Apparently our references lied and said nice things about us.

This poor kid. She might actually be joining our family for the next 2 months! Allah help her!

Bozo

2009-03-25T11:47:00.002-04:00

Me: Why do you waste so much time and energy (not to mention products) straightening your hair on rainy days like this?

The Daughter: So my hair doesn't look like yours.

As If I Can Keep Track

2009-03-24T19:56:00.002-04:00

So we get this big Birthday invite via snail mail. There's a return address - no name. It's for some child's Birthday. OK, that narrows it down.

It's a 2nd Birthday. Too young for one of The Baby's classmates. Hmmmm.

The name is Chloe. No last name. No details at all except a date, time and location.

Who the heck ARE these people? Who is this child?

Warning: Potty Talk Ahead

2009-03-16T19:38:00.002-04:00

So The Baby is almost completely potty trained. It's about time, too, because he's almost 7. Not really. He's only 3 - it just feels like 7.

#1 Son looked at me tonight (as he was being shoved out of the bathroom to the tune of, "Get OUT Bubby, I have to potty!") and mouthed "FINALLY!"

I pointed out that while I am completely thrilled by the recent turn of events, it *IS* a bit sad. The kid IS my last baby after all.

Without skipping a beat, #1 said, "Awww. Don't worry Mom, soon enough you'll be in diapers."

Oh yeah Smart Mouth? Guess who's going to have to change them.

HA!

My Evil Plan...REALIZED!!

2008-11-27T21:30:00.003-05:00

Yes friends, my evil plan has come to fruition. (Que evil laugh) Mu Ha Ha.

You see, my friends and family have called me a "gourmet" and a "chef" for years. Really all that means is that I love to cook. Honestly, I'm just really good at following recipes. Chefs create...I copy. I make at least 3 or 4 new recipes every week. I'm not original, but the eats are still pretty good around here.

That being said, the family naturally has Thanksgiving dinner here at our house. We have the most room, and I love to cook. Some years we have a large number of attendees, other years the dinners are smaller. One fact remains the same....

*ahem* *cough, cough*

I have a confession to make.

I have NEVER cleaned a turkey for Thanksgiving. NEVER.

You see, I honestly think the whole idea is pretty disgusting. I have a major poultry issue. Seriously, I can't even eat chicken on the bone. And the thought of actually sticking my hand in a raw slimy bird to remove/clean/ANYTHING is positively revolting to me. At Thanksgiving I get around it by "allowing" my Mother and/or my Mother-In-Law to take control of the kitchen for the 15 minutes that preparing the bird requires. This tactic has worked for years.

Last year I began to detect a flaw in the system. What would happen if (God forbid) my Mother or my Mother-In-Law were not around???!?! Fortunately for me, the answer revealed itself this year. Amazingly enough, both teens showed interest in preparing the meal this year. #1 Son helped me from start to finish with every dish. When it came time to prepare the bird (this year we opted for 2 turkey breasts, as we had a much smaller crowd), both kids actually *asked* to help!

How great was it for ME that my Mother showed the kids how to clean the birds?!??!?!

HALLELUJAH! #1 Son actually made the comment, "so I suppose I'm going to have to do this for the rest of YOUR life??"

Well...DUH.

Eeeeewwwwww!

I Remember

2008-11-04T21:15:00.002-05:00

It was 1976. I was in sixth grade.

I remember that Mr. Hunt, my teacher, wore the most horrendous (to me now) powder blue leisure suit and red print shirt in our class picture.

I remember feeling sad when Ford lost and Carter won, because my father seemed defeated. I didn't know why.

I remember gas lines, when you could only buy 10 gallons on certain days - if your license plate ended in an even number, you bought gas on that day, odd numbers, the other days. All that goes through my mind tonight is PERSONALIZED tags. I have them - there is NO odd or even?!!! When will I get to buy gas?

Our new President is a Socialist. Lord help me, because I remember.

I remember interest rates - a concept that was as foreign to me back then as nuclear physics. I remember the rates for buying a home going to 12% and higher - the prime interest rate went above 17%.

Tonight, I understand my parents' concern.

There's only so much damage that a socialist President and a Democratic Congress can do.

I pray that my family can financially survive it.

Beware the Blue Dragon

2008-11-02T21:32:00.002-05:00

C. made the costume. Yes, the "fire" lights up.

And yes, we have all worn the head at some point in time this weekend.

And The Winner Is....

2008-10-26T21:25:00.000-04:00

ME!!! I've reached "major life goal" number TWO this year. You may remember that #1 was to row a double with #1 Son. We did that back in August. Goal #2 was to row competitively. Check that one off - I rowed in the Head of the Lafayette regatta in a novice women's 8. We WON our race! Woo Hoo!!! #1 Son rowed in 2 boats for his HS team. One came in third, and his other boat won their race as well. Here we are...looking really rough (well at least *I* am!) in the aftermath.

"Major life goal" #3 is to actually run a 5K race.

Yeah, I know.

No, I'm only on my second glass of wine.

Really.

She Was Arrested???

2008-10-06T23:09:00.002-04:00

I just saw the report on the news. A mother was arrested for threatening to kill her children.

Obviously the officers involved do not have teenagers.

FINALLY!!!!

2008-08-22T15:19:00.002-04:00

Today I reached a goal that I set my sights on 1 year and 15 days ago.

Today I rowed with #1 Son.

Not Really A Runner - Yet

2008-06-09T09:54:00.002-04:00

I've never thought of myself as a runner. In fact, I never even WANTED to run. Ever. That old cliche, "I only run when chased" applies to me completely.

So how is it that I find myself going into week 2 of the Couch to 5K training program? What in the world possessed me to go to a local running store and purchase a pair of "real" running shoes last week? What was I thinking when I downloaded "crap-tons" of podcasts this weekend?

I have no clue.

I'm having fun though (OK, maybe not fun, but at least a sense of accomplishment). #1 Son is "training" with me. He rows competitively (crew), so he has to run a lot. He says that he's proud of me and is enjoying running with me. Personally, I think he's just scared I'm going to drop dead and there will be no one around to cook dinner.

At any rate, I'm going to see how far I can take this. Everyone I have ever talked to says that the C25K program really works. I'm not sure I really want it to, but I'll keep you posted.

Don't call me a runner though. It's more like a slow jog.

Under Attack

2008-06-08T23:35:00.002-04:00

There is a vulture in my house.

I saw it.

It dove at me.

I was speechless for about 4 seconds. That coupled with my "look of terror," hyperventilating and frantic pointing finally clued C. in that something was wrong.

You bet your a$$.

We were under attack.

C. says he hates flying things too, and then asked me where it came from. Holy Mother of God, how the hell should *I* know?!?! Does he actually think I invited it into our house?

After several minutes of searching, C. told me to calm down, that my "hysterics" might wake the kids. He tried to convince me that it was "probably just a little water bug." Yeah. And I'm the friggin Queen of England.

It is at least 6 inches long.

No, I'm not exaggerating.

I crept back down the stairs a few minutes ago to ask my hero, "Have you hunted it down and beat it to death yet?"

He chuckled and said, "I haven't heard any fluttering."

He hates me.

I think he's trying to kill me.

If Only I Had Known

2008-01-05T20:43:00.000-05:00

I believe I am the mother of the only child in North America that still has wrapped Christmas presents under the tree. Well, they were still under the tree until we took it down today. We waited 12 days after the holiday on the off chance that The Baby was observing some warped form of "12 Days of Christmas" or something. Turns out, he just wasn't all that interested.

The kid was pretty much done after opening the stockings. He made it as far as this big bouncy-ball thing that lights up. After that he was over it. While everyone else opened their gifts, he bounced that thing all over the place. While the big kids were trying on their new clothes and stacking up their haul, The Baby was content to chuck his new ball at the dog.

Yes, it's true that the older two were the same way as little kids. I distinctly remember one Christmas when The Princess spent the entire day playing with a package of Styrofoam cups. #1 Son was more partial to bows and ribbons (always great fun to attach to the dog). Fine, I get that.

But never...and I mean NEVER has one of the others ever left a present unscathed, still sitting in it's pretty paper and bows. They might have played with household items and trash, but they at least tore through some wrapping paper. Not this kid. Honestly, the whole family could have saved some cash and just bought him the fargin' bouncy ball.

I'm trying to look on the bright side, though. At least I've got his birthday shopping all done. He'll never notice the Santa wrapping paper.

Box THIS, Buster!

2007-12-21T11:23:00.000-05:00

I curse the man (it had to have been a man) that invented the "box."

Wait...let me rephrase that.

I curse the person who taught my Husband that "cleaning" means stuffing all the crap you can into a box and shoving it into a closet.

"Out of sight, out of mind."

He actually said that to me with a straight face.

I'll be lucky to avoid spending my Christmas in a jail cell.

Creativity

2007-12-10T19:34:00.000-05:00

Heard in my house this evening:

"NO! I want not beans!"

"But beans are GOOD! You LOVE beans! You liked them last week."

"NO! STOP sayin' dat. I want NOT beans!"

"Day-O!"

"Say Day-O!"

"Daylight come and he wan'go home."

"Day, he say day he say day he say day."

"HEY! Whachoo singin'?"

"It's the Greenbean Marching Song. They like to march into your mouth."

"I want song!"

"DAY-O!"

I ought to write a book.

Don't Know What To Do With Myself

2007-09-10T09:59:00.000-04:00

Wow - I'm finally alone. The day I was looking forward to has come. The big kids are in school. The Baby is at pre-school. For the rest of this month, I will have Monday, Wednesday & Fridays until 1pm to do as I wish.

And there is SO MUCH to do. The house looks like a refugee camp. There is clutter everywhere - piles upon piles of clothes, books, papers, boxes and bags. The toys have formed an obstacle course that is almost impossible to navigate. I have appointments to schedule, checkbooks to balance, bills to pay. There are walls and windows to wash, closets to reorganize. I could fill a commercial dumpster with the trash that needs to be disposed of.

The big picture hurts my head. I'll need to compartmentalize and that means a list. I guess I should start one.

Yes my friends, the kids are in school. There is no screaming, fighting, fussing, whining, running, yelling...or laughter.

It sure is quiet.

I think I'll take a nap.

Mickey - it Ain't

2007-08-27T00:08:00.000-04:00

Several months ago I heard the pitter-patter of little feet again. Unfortunately, that did not signal another baby. "Unfortunately," you ask? Well yes, while it is known that I would welcome another pregnancy like I would welcome a plague of biblical proportions, it would certainly be better than our current situation. The scurrying noise that I had heard heralded the arrival of a more disruptive force than any child that might spring from my loins.

You see my friends, we have been invaded by a mouse. At first I thought it was rather funny. "Mickey," as the family took to calling him, would pop out of the air vents at night when he thought the coast was clear. Once he realized the error in his judgement, he would freeze in hopes that I was a figment of his little pea-brained imagination. Eventually he would figure out that I was real, and he'd dive for the vent not to be seen for several days. As the weeks went by, Mickey got braver. He'd run out of the vent, make eye contact with me and just stand there as if he was daring me to approach him. A few nights he even brazenly hopped towards me as if to ask, "what are you going to do about it?!" Eventually Mickey lost his fear of me. He would hop around from one corner of the den to the other running his little brazen mouse errands. Apparently, I no longer posed a threat to him. Silly mouse, I was catching up on TiVo after the kids were in bed. I was the least of his worries.

He should have thought about the dog.

One night, as I was engrossed in one of my shows, Mickey sauntered across the den floor, as had become his habit, and seemed to flip me the little mouse bird. Immediately he found himself engulfed in a smelly, slobbery dog mouth. I screamed at the dumb dog to "DROP IT!!!" I must admit that my reaction was not based on "save the mouse" as much as it was on "save the carpet!" I didn't want to know what the dog would hack up after ingesting a WILD rodent.

Notice the emphasis on "WILD." You see, I KNOW what the dog will hack up after ingesting a DOMESTIC rodent. But that is another story. Needless to say, I saved Mickey's life. And how did he repay me? Mickey moved in.

I didn't mind him too much. Sure, I saw the occasional mouse turd in the pantry, but I was raised in the country (FARM country), so he wasn't able to get into much of anything (not my first rodeo, you see). The weather got warmer, and the Mickey sightings slowed down. There was one night last month where I saw Mickey shoot across the hardwood floor of our dining room (silly mouse!). In no time, C. and I had cornered him and caught him in an empty planter (SOMEDAY I will get around to repotting the 3 plants that have survived my black thumb!). We took him way out back and released him behind our shed (pointed, of course, in the direction of our neighbor's house).

This morning C. heard some strange noises coming from our front hall closet. No one would ever suspect that space, as it only contains our cold weather gear and the occasional flag that we fly (lest you think we're all domestic, we fly Pirate flags - yes, yo ho ho and a bottle of rum - and the occasional Pittsburgh Penguin flag during hockey season). Upon further investigation, C. detected a "smell." Huh?! We may be the National monument to clutter, but the house does NOT smell!

Little did I know that Mickey was living a Lifetime Channel movie. It seems that our young hero had knocked up the local prom queen and she was a neglectful mother. Nestled in The Princess' handmade "shades of pink" fuzzy scarf were SEVEN mice "babies" with Mama nowhere in sight. She was probably partying with Britney.

Of course, I was unaware of the recent discovery and was not informed about the turn of events until the mouse babies were safely "enthroned" in the same empty planter that played a role earlier in the story (DAMMIT I really need to get to that replanting!!). Things went downhill after that.

You see it was bad enough when THEY (C. and his cohorts - #1 Son and The Princess) showed The Baby the "Cute Mickey Babies." He's not quite 2 years old, he'll forget about them. But then it got dicey when I found The Princess sitting in the kitchen, in low light, quietly watching the stupid obviously "teenage" mice eat the 6 pounds of sharp cheddar cheese shreds she had left for them. WHY did I have to point out to her that the food was one thing, but all creatures need water? What was I thinking?!?! The planter now has it's own reservoir.

I am so torn by this turn of events. YES, the Mickey babies are cute. So was Mickey for that matter. YES I know that if we take them to the local pet store they will probably end up as snake food. YES I know that my kids want to keep them and have apparently forgotten all concepts of math (7 mouse babies = 27 mice = 49 mice = 172 mice = Mommy's in a home). I think the best thing is to let them fly free in one of the two vacant lots in our neighborhood.

Unfortunately I have to time the escape when the kids are not home.

One week until school starts.

We should only have 78 babies by then.

The Clown on the Ball

2007-08-08T23:07:00.000-04:00

So I have gotten on this big "Get Fit and Healthy" kick lately. I'm eating better, actually exercising and have lost some weight. All in all, a pretty good plan. This new lifestyle I'm trying to achieve has also brought me to a realization. It seems I have missed my calling with the circus.

You can imagine the warmth I felt when I finally understood that I have been put on this earth for my children's amusement.

Imagine their glee when I purchased a stability ball. Have you seen one of these things? It's a rather huge rubber ball that aids in a workout. I thought it looked like a fun piece of equipment to use for strength training - something I have added to my routine. Besides, it was cheap - about 10 bucks at WalMart. We took the thing out and blew it up (Hubby and The Baby had great fun doing that) and I tried a couple of exercises.

Apparently the sight of their Mother balancing precariously on a huge blow up ball is enough to send certain people's children into hysterics. Fine. I did what any self-respecting Mom would do. I challenged them to try it themselves.

Who's the clown NOW, Missy?!

'Tis the Season

2007-07-20T11:18:00.000-04:00

My knuckles will be white and my jaw clenched as I look out over the endless sea of their minivans and SUVs. As far as the eye can see, they will be easy to spot by the luggage carriers strapped to their roofs.

Instinctively I will know that I must relax. I will practice deep breathing exercises - in through the nose, out through the mouth. I will get to know every inch of the vehicles that entrap me. I will memorize their bumper stickers, their magnetic ribbons of support and their license plate holders. I will play my own little version of "spot-the-out-of-state-plates" while trying to figure out what their obscure personalized tags mean. I will even watch parts of the movies they are playing to keep their kids from killing each other.

I will exchange knowing grimaces with other locals as we watch them dangerously weave in and out trying to find the "faster" lane. We will nod at each other because we know that there IS no "faster lane" this time of year.

Like locusts and other scourges, this fleet of mini-vans and SUVs plague us every year at this time. I, and my fellow locals, will get to know their vehicles intimately because for the next HOUR OR MORE we will all be CRAWLING towards the tunnel together. And as always, I will resist the urge to scream out my window,

"IT'S A FARGIN TUNNEL YOU MORONS! MAINTAIN THE POSTED SPEED!"

(NOTE: The post above was scrawled on pieces of a ripped up Happy Meal bag as I "drove" home from work the other day. It took me an HOUR and 50 MINUTES to make the 36 mile trip. I love tourist season. Really.)

Imitation In It's Sincerest Form

2007-07-16T08:52:00.000-04:00

Having a teen, a tween and a toddler in the same house all summer has proven interesting. The Baby has always soaked up information like the proverbial sponge. This tends to color his language a bit.

We have been hearing, "whatever" as his response to being asked to pick up his toys or some other task that does not conform to his plans. He has learned the eye roll and has decided that it is cute so he performs this maneuver quite frequently. When he thinks I have lost my mind by asking him to do things like, "get off that chair," "don't stand on the back of the couch," and "For God's Sake, GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH!" he will look at me and exclaim, "Girl-boo," with a kind of bored disdain in his voice. Of course he has also picked up some rather "colorful" phrases that both of his older siblings SWEAR did not come from them.

My favorite incident came this weekend. We bought a little kid potty a week or so ago, just so he had a place to sit when he follows one of us in there. I am nothing if not considerate. (For those of you without children, one of the neat features of small kids is that you will NEVER get to go to the bathroom alone and uninterrupted again from the time they learn to crawl until they leave for college)

For the record, we're not "Potty Training Nazis" around here at all. I figure they won't go to high school in diapers, so why sweat the small stuff? I have been letting the kid just sit on his throne with a diaper on. It keeps him occupied and he grins like he's been given admission to some secret and exclusive club.

C., on the other hand, decided that if the kid was going to sit there, why not take his diaper off?

Indeed.

The Baby sat there for about a second, got up and took the seat apart. He exclaimed, "hat" when he put the bowl on his head. Not one to be easily thwarted, C. reassembled the pot and sat The Baby back on his throne. Of course the kid sat there for about a half a second, stood up and promptly peed all over the floor. To this he replied:

"OOPS! My bad."

The Pot and the Kettle

2007-07-12T23:47:00.000-04:00

(I received a comment on a recent post from a fellow Mom, Jen ,that reminded me of an incident from #1 Son's childhood. I thank her for bringing an obviously repressed memory to the surface. )

As a "pre-kid" person, I was a card carrying member of the "MY-CHILD-WILL-NEVER-ACT-LIKE-THAT" club. I just knew that I would be a sensitive, fun, nurturing disciplinarian. My precious children would NEVER disrupt fellow diners or moviegoers. They would NEVER run screaming through clothing racks at retail stores, as if their hair was on fire. They would NEVER reach out to touch someone with sticky, icky hands. I would be the kind of parent that could effortlessly take her children ANYWHERE in public and have said public gush over what well behaved and adorable children I had given birth to.

Yeah.

I really thought like that once.

It was deep into the holiday shopping season late one afternoon when #1 Son (a toddler around the age of 20 months) and I found ourselves at the local Navy Exchange (the ex was military). It was stiflingly hot in the store/makeshift mall. The crowds were enormous and did nothing for my claustrophobia. #1 Son had missed his nap, was hungry and we were in a hurry to get home - a sure recipe for disaster.

The battle began over a size 2T coat. While it was cold outside, #1 Son could not have cared less. He was cranky and determined that I, his rotten Mommy, was NOT going to get that fargin' coat on him. The kid was like a crazed octopus on a crack binge.

Ignoring his kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs, I wrestled him to the ground. It took several minutes of stealth maneuvers and chanting the mantra, "KNOCK IT OFF" before I looked up...

...and saw them standing there with their mouths dropped open and their eyeballs all bugged out. This young couple were stopped in their tracks not more than 10 feet away from me and my little boy who was in the middle of a full meltdown. I made eye contact with the obviously pregnant woman and the look on her face changed from astonished surprise to condemnation. She never said it out loud, but I heard it clearly, "MY child will NEVER act like THAT!"

I did what any self respecting mother would do. I yelled, "OH YEAH?! Well that's what I used to think, too!" I then scooped up the screaming kid, wrapped the offending coat around his upper body and stormed out into the cold parking lot.

There's a New Sheriff in Town and It Aint Me

2007-07-11T10:20:00.000-04:00

I think I might have mentioned before that despite my best efforts, I do not have a green thumb. When we bought our humble home 8 years ago, much of our yard (and one side of the house) was covered with ivy. It has become a constant battle to take back our property from the invasive weed.

We have attempted to eradicate this stuff by many different methods. We've hacked and slashed at it with a machete as if we had been cast in some jungle adventure movie. We have physically ripped it out by the roots. One of my friends (a very talented green thumb kind of gal) suggested that I take disposable pie tins, fill them with "Weed B Gone," shove the ends of the ivy in the plate and wrap the whole thing in a plastic bag. Something about ivy being a "systemic feeder" or something. No joy there. The ivy lived, though I think we may have killed a bird and scared the crap out of our neighbors. We have even resorted to using something called "Total Vegetation Killer." It didn't kill all the ivy, but C. sure had a good time spraying that junk around. There is a "heap-ton" of testosterone in that name, which I guess is why it is such a big seller at the local Home Depot.

Recently, I decided to "take another whack at it" (bad pun intended). The stupid ivy was heading for The Baby's swing set (probably to lie in wait for The Baby himself) and as a matter of safety I went to hacking and slashing and chopping and pulling. About 30 seconds into my task, I felt a sharp pain in my hand and saw a small dot of blood. You may call it a breeze, but I could swear the vines were swaying and reaching towards me.

My friends, it seems we have created some sort of "Super Ivy." After all the frantic "pruning" and nasty chemicals, it has apparently morphed over the years into an aggressive being with THORNS! These are very sneaky, well hidden but very sharp THORNS for cryin' out loud! This stupid stuff never grew THORNS before. Perhaps we have made botanical history. I think I'll call it "Catt Weed."

You know, who really needs to go outside anyway? It's way too hot.

No, Please Don't Help. Really.

2007-07-06T22:28:00.000-04:00

The Baby has really become fond of "helping" around here lately. Truth be told, he craves any and all attention. You can get him to do just about anything by applauding. Yes my friends, a few hand claps and a hearty round of, "Yay! What a BIG boy!" and the kid falls all over himself.

Unfortunately, I learned about this personality quirk a little late...or maybe I am just slow. It all started with an innocent trip to the trashcan. The Baby exclaimed "yucky," toddled to the can and threw something away. "How cute" I thought, and having never actually witnessing any other member of this house perform said maneuver, I got overly excited and cheered enthusiastically. Like a crack addict chasing that ever elusive first high, this kid can't seem to lay off the can.

While I can't prove all of it, here is a list of things we are pretty sure have ended up in the trashcan (along with yet another gratuitous weekend kid photo) :

The charger from my work cell phone - Yes, the one that my company owns. Did I mention that I work for a state agency? Yeah, that one.

My Husband's keys - Of course it is true that he has been known to leave them laying just about anywhere, but I have searched high and low for WEEKS. Yes, I looked in the freezer silly. The last time we saw them, he let The Baby play with them. (OK, so I didn't marry Einstein).

"Big Dog Little Dog" - This is The Baby's favorite book of all time. C. and I have read this book in character (C.'s "Big Dog," and of course I play "Little Dog") to the kid almost every night since he was tiny. We have even played our parts over the phone when I was out of town for work. Perhaps The Baby doesn't appreciate great theatre?

Several Pieces of Silverware - I think he's taking them out of the dishwasher while it is being loaded. We are down 6 forks, 7 spoons and 3 knives. There is no other explanation. And yes, I have searched the older kid's rooms. That was my first instinct.

Numerous Small Toys - This wouldn't be a problem if they were HIS small toys and pieces parts we were talking about. Unfortunately, integral small items are missing from his sibling's rooms. I suppose I might care more if their rooms were actually clean. But alas, I don't.

Cell Phones - Fortunately I have been able to catch him disposing of the phones that actually work and I have rescued them. As far as the MANY broken and old phones he has been given, I am not responsible. I cannot save them all.
$50 Gift Card - This was for popular Maternity Wear shops. It was a gift for my sister-in-law. I yelled at C. for "losing" it. He, after all, had "cleaned off" the dining room table (read piled everything into a big pile and stashed it). After much searching, we're pretty sure The Baby disposed of it.

Mail - Here is the conundrum: Junk mail that ends up in his hands on its way to the garbage is good. We actually give it to him for that purpose. The problem becomes the current bills and correspondence that he gleefully snatches from the table and tosses when I am focused elsewhere. For the record, we are missing a birth certificate and the title to one of the cars.

Sure, those of you without children are probably saying "watch him closer." Whatever. He's faster than anyone else in the house. And he's determined.

(Total photo credit to another C., who is married to my oldest and dear friend P.) Thank you!

Welcome to Hell

2007-07-02T13:14:00.001-04:00

I LOATHE going to the dentist. You see, I had a LOT of work done as a child and quite frankly the whole ordeal terrifies me. I am not proud to admit that up until this spring, I had not visited a dentist for years. Then a filling fell out (stupid filling), and I was forced to go. Luckily, I found a dentist right here in my neighborhood who caters to patients like me. He uses nitrous oxide. I love nitrous oxide. I had to go in today for "scaling." This procedure is obviously punishment for neglecting the dental profession for so long. Here is what I remember:

Why is she asking for help? Why can't she find the nitrous thingy? OK, I understand. She's new. WAIT! Has she ever done this before? Surely she has, she's my age. Of course, lots of people change careers later in life. I certainly did. But I am sure Dr. Tooth wouldn't let her practice on me, right? He knows I am a chicken. Oh thank God, she found the nitrous thingy. Yes, yes, I remember - steady breathing.

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out.

Oooo, I'm starting to feel all tingly.

Dr. Tooth: Hi there Catt. How are you today?
Me: I've been better, but you know I love this nitrous thingy.
Dr. Tooth: Just remember to keep taking steady breaths. This will be the worst part. Just a few little pinches.

&%%#$@!! That HURTS! &$%#$@!! Knock it off you psycho!

Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in...

Dr. Tooth: Just a few more pinches, then I'll turn you over to Nurse-Lady. There you go, now real quick, one for each tooth. Breathe steady.

Holy crap, are those tears running down my face? That is so embarrassing. Thank you nice Nurse-Lady for wiping my tears. Sure I will turn my head towards you. I love this nitrous thingy. Sniff.

Breathe in, breathe out...

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD, what is that deafening noise? The high pitched screech of your torture device is bouncing around in my skull. I hope I am not suffering permanent hearing loss. Is this what dogs feel like when people blow those whistles?

Breathe in, breathe out...

Crap, my fingers are numb. I can't believe I have been clenching them together so hard. I really need to try to relax. I'm sure this will be over soon.

Breathe in, breathe out...

I think I'm drowning. Oh man, that's drool coming out of my mouth. LADY! Can't you see that water crap is dripping down my face?

In...out...

Not the left side, NOT THE LEFT SIDE! The left side isn't numb! Oh wait. I guess you are just doing the front of my mouth. Just watch it there, Missy.

In...out...

Sweet Jesus, what is that horrendous scraping sound?! You better not be scraping the enamel off my teeth. If I come back in here next time and Dr. Tooth says I need to endure some further torture to put the enamel back, someone is going to get hurt.

In... Out... IN...

HEY! Did you just pierce my lip?! We have a no body piercing rule in our house!

IN... Out... In...

WAIT! Why are you taking away my nitrous? Oh, it's over? OK, I can handle that.

Dr. Tooth: Hi Catt, how are you feeling?
Me: Mmmnph (translation: Half of my head is numb, I am drooling, I sound like I have been on a weekend bender, and if I try to smile I look like I have palsy. How the hell do you think I feel?!)
Dr. Tooth: Well you did great! That wasn't so bad was it?
Me: Mmmnph (translation: read about it on my blog you sadist.)

Random Thoughts and Wine

2007-06-28T21:55:00.001-04:00

Here is what is on my rather limited mind this weekend:

1) Conniving Witches - I have to deal with this incredibly nasty woman in my volunteer job with #1 Son's sports team. Every time I think of her immature attempts to undermine me at the meeting this week, I ~~want to hunt her down, lunge for her throat, and scratch her eyeballs out~~ take a deep breath, compose myself and decide to take the high road.

But I don't want to talk about that.

2) New Exercise Routines - I just picked up the NYC Ballet workout and book from eBay. I am really excited. HEY! Those of you that know me personally can KISS MY SOON TO BE FIRM AS A DANCER'S BUTT!

But I don't want to talk about that.

3) Ungrateful Kids - What am I, a clown? At what point did my job description include "entertainer?" You wake up at the crack of 2:00pm, unload one load from the dishwasher and declare, "this sucks, I'm not having any fun"?!?!! I'll be happy to show you some fun, Buddy.

But I don't want to talk about that either.

4) Wine - My friends, I love wine. In fact, I love many different wines (though I am not crazy about most reds - I will gladly accept suggestions). My latest favorite is a rather cheap (bonus!) Trebbiano. You sommeliers out there can refer to #2. A few months ago, someone who frequents my local wine outlet also took a liking to said cheap, but rather refreshing and tasty wine. I'm thinking of taping the following note to the EMPTY space where my wine used to be:

Dear Random Wino:

There are apparently only 4 bottles of our current favorite blend and brand ordered and stocked in our local store each week. Ideally that would equal 2 bottles for you, and two for me. For months we have made this silent system work. Why have you now decided to ruin a beautiful relationship?

Your recent selfish streak has upset the delicate balance we have worked so hard to create. Honestly, do you really need all that wine? Would it really kill you to leave a little for me every now and then?

At first I thought you stepped over the line because you were having a party or something. I can understand that. But recent events have proven that you are either incredibly greedy or you have a serious problem. You are now consuming way more wine than you did when we began our arrangement. I think, for your sake, that you should talk to someone.

Consider this an intervention.

Twilight Years

2007-06-27T21:53:00.000-04:00

C. - I was on the state employment website today. Guess what position is open as full time?

Me - The same one I do.

C. - Yeah, but it's for a Senior. Did you see the salary range?

Me - Yeah, it's (a co-worker's) job. She went to another Department. I do better as a wage employee anyway. I get paid mileage and travel, so it works out. Besides, I wouldn't want to be in the office when I wasn't teaching.

C. - You're right. The only reason you'd want to be full-time is for the benefits.

Me - Sure, like retirement and stuff.

C. - (with a laugh) You better think about that if you ever want to retire.

Me - What are you talking about? I already AM retired.

C. - ...

"and I saw this land a battlefield"

2007-06-24T21:36:00.000-04:00

Friday afternoon I was scheduled to catch a flight to Baltimore for a volunteer gig. Since I was flying on a freebie pass (thanks P.!), I was at the mercy of airline scheduling. As the morning went on, it became apparent that I would not be able to get on a flight until late in the evening. Thus, I would not get to my hotel until long after 11pm, only to have to get up on Saturday at the buttcrack of dawn.

Of course, I made the most logical decision - Family ROADTRIP!! In the span of an hour, we were packed and on the road. Poor #1 Son was roused, showered, packed and travelling before he knew what hit him. It serves him right for sleeping until the crack of 1pm everyday.

My friends, I have been known to schedule a visit to a site of historical importance into every family trip. Due to the spontaneity this weekend, certain ingrates (I mean members of my family) voiced their "concern" that we might not be able to "see any boring stuff" this trip. Amazingly enough, The Princess was surprisingly enthusiastic about our last-minute trip.

Fortunately, our route on Friday had us passing by a civil war site that I had never visited - the Fredricksburg battlefield(s). How convenient! #1 Son (probably still in some deep REM-like state) was excited, and as we pulled into the parking lot asked, "Hey Mom, what are we going to see here?"

Without skipping a beat, The Princess replied, "DUH #1! It's just some stupid old field like always."

My friends, I give you...a "Stupid Field," like always.

We've Come A Long Way Baby

2007-06-21T12:09:00.000-04:00

A few of you know that I have been "around" the web and online communities for years. The Ex and I owned a rather popular BBS back in the day when the Internet was teetering on the precipice of becoming a household word. Additionally, I worked for years as a Technical Support rep for a national ISP. In those days, the employees of said ISP formed a close bond that still remains intact between many of us today. We keep in touch via a mailing list that started as a joke almost 10 years ago. This week a message went out from one of my former partners-in-crime with the comment, "This video really struck me, obviously, we've been around since the very beginning..." Like my friend, it struck me as well. It's really well done, and very eerie. To those of you with "techie" backgrounds (and of course everyone else), enjoy:

Organizing My Organization

2007-06-17T17:18:00.001-04:00

There I sat on the sofa, surrounded by my "To Do" list, my monthly planner, the Dry Erase calendar that lives on the fridge and several different colored dry erase markers and highlighters. I go through this ritual every so often, though it usually ends up being an exercise in futility. That doesn't stop me from at least trying to bring some order to the chaos that is my life. There is probably a better way to get everyone where they need to go when they need to get there, but if there is, I can't figure out how to make it work. C. gets to observe this ridiculous ritual, and he always shakes his head (whether in pity, disbelief or amazement I do not know.)

C - Aren't these kids old enough to keep track of their own stuff?

Me - Are you kidding me?

C - Well at what point do they become mature enough to keep track of their own schedule?

Me - When is your next Dentist's appointment?

C - ...

Case closed.

Gratuitous Weekend Kid Pics & Poop

2007-06-16T11:30:00.000-04:00

First an explanation:

The stats here have been pretty consistent for the last 3 years. Most of the traffic comes through Monday - Friday. That means that most of you guys are blog surfing at work, you little minxes you. It also means that I don't have to feel so guilty about throwing up the occasional kid picture on the weekend. Let's just call this what it is...laziness.

Also, I have been accused on more than one occasion by more than one reviewer (and once during a blog awards - by a few competitors) of being a "Mommy Blogger." I certainly don't see anything wrong with that at all. To celebrate my return, I felt compelled to thumb my nose at the critics and naysayers of Mommy Bloggers everywhere and not only post a picture of my kids, but also to mention poop in the same post. Because...well, it's my blog and I'll post what I want to.

My friends, I give you:

DJ Poopy Pants and his backup singer Sassy Sissy. Man it's going to be a long summer.

School? We Don't Need No Stinkin' School!

2007-06-14T23:43:00.001-04:00

Can someone please tell me why I sent my kids to school these last two weeks?

Honestly, it is a major pain in the butt to get them out of bed, dressed, throw a bagel in front of them and shove them out the door - only to have to drive them to their respective educational institutions. This is especially true when they have been up WAY past bedtime (unbeknownst to their exhausted parents) in anticipation of their summer break. Why sleep when you know you won't have to actually DO ANYTHING the next day, especially when you can be watching the television (with no sound, lest said parents bust you) or playing on your computer?

This past week was the worst. #1 Son (a Freshman in High School) actually attended school for a combined total of three quarters of a day this week. He was out by 9am on Monday and 11:30am on Tuesday. He didn't even have to show up the last two days (Wednesday and Thursday). It was final exam week, but it seems that teachers don't really like to grade exams anymore. #1 Son's teachers came up with many creative ways to get out of grading finals. A few of them allowed an exemption if you had an "A" in the class. Apparently that standard was a bit high for another of his teachers who declared everyone with an "A" or a "B" exempt. One teacher decided to skip the exam altogether and just count their SOL scores as an exam grade (in VA we have Standards Of Learning tests - SOLs. They really stink, but that is a rant for another day). It worked out that out of 8 classes, #1 Son only had to take 3 "exams." I put that word in quotes because "exam" is a very loose way of describing these "tests."

The final exam in his Tech Draw class consisted of him running a Power Point presentation that he had created in class 3 weeks ago, while reading the captions out loud. His Honors English exam covered only of the parts of the Shakespeare play "Julius Ceasar" that they had actually read together in class. That would be Act I. Oh, and it was open book and open notebook. For his Honors World History class I saw him working on some "project" the night before. It looked like he was using The Baby's crayons. He got a 98.

Where were these teachers when I was in school?!?!

The Princess had it even easier. She spent the last two weeks watching movies. Seriously. Her teachers have screened Holes, The Cat in the Hat (the Hollywood version), Finding Nemo, Akila and the Bee (at least that had SOMETHING to do with scholastics), Napoleon Dynamite and Happy Feet (TWICE!). And this was while getting out of school HALF DAY. Thursday, the last official day of school for our school district, they were out by 10:00am (the first bell rings at 8:05).

The kicker is that for the last TWO WEEKS, neither the High School nor the Middle School (where The Princess attends) took roll!!! They didn't even HAVE to show up.

So please, my friends, tell me WHY I even bothered to send them to school!

Oh wait. I know why.

If I hadn't sent them...they would have been home. Here. With me and each other. Probably fighting tooth and nail.

Happy Start of the Summer Vacation, my friends! I only hope we can survive another cursed break and make it to the fall!

Happy Birthday to Me

2007-06-14T11:52:00.000-04:00

I live in a tree....da da DA da da da da....

Anyway, it just occurred to me that this blog was born 3 years ago this month. Wow. Good thing I was a total slacker the first half of this year, or I'd probably be burned out! *snicker*

I decided to give myself a BIG birthday gift. I'm cleaning up around here in preparation. Better here than in my house in real life - now THAT would be exhausting!

Stay tuned.

Actual Letter to the Ex

2007-06-13T09:59:00.000-04:00

What follows is the letter I sent to my Ex (the father of my two oldest kids) in response to a conversation I had with him yesterday. I had innocently asked if he could help us out with the expense of camps for the kids this summer. I was VERY proud of myself for not actually lunging for his throat during said conversation and scratching his eyeballs out. The names have been changed (and replaced in parenthesis like this) to protect the terminally stupid as well as the innocent. Enjoy.

Hello (Moron):

I hope you and (#1 Son) are enjoying each other. He's definitely a trip! I have thought a lot about our conversation of yesterday evening concerning financial issues and your comment that you pay $800 a month and that certainly includes "extras." I do not in ANY WAY wish to start an argument, however I did want to respond, as your comment kind of rubbed me the wrong way.

I am not sure how far you think $800 goes toward raising two teenagers, but in reality it just scratches the surface, and certainly does not cover any "extras." Here is some food for thought:

Food - As you will certainly see by Sunday, teenage boys eat. A lot. Often. Tween girls eat a lot also. I cook dinner almost every night - good healthy food is not cheap. When they take their own lunches (because the cafeteria food is quite frankly crap and there is never enough to fill them up), my grocery bill goes up exponentially. Add to that breakfast food, snacks, healthy drinks, etc. and it adds up. My grocery bill is $200 PER WEEK. That is currently. It will increase quite a bit in the summer.

Clothes - One shopping trip to buy some new outfits at the beginning of the school year is great, but it doesn't cover the clothing bill. I am the first one to vote for school uniforms every year when the subject comes up, but let's face it - uniforms aren't happening. We do not buy designer clothes for these kids (we can't afford to), but we don't dress them in rags either. Also add shoes to that expense. Both kids are in adult size shoes. Those aren't cheap. And, of course, there is the special equipment for their sports. Women's size cleats run about $90 on the average (and (the Princess) averages one pair per season - last season it was 2 pair). (#1 son) goes through running shoes to the tune of about 1 pair a season (he really should have two a season, as they run through all types of weather, they get wet and he wears them out quick, but he makes do). There's also the Under Armour and other cold weather gear, jackets, practice clothes, etc. I have their clothing budgeted at $100 a month, but honestly it can run much more, or less, depending on the circumstances.

Utilities - 20-30 minute showers add up. (#1 Son) takes much shorter showers now, but often he takes 2 a day. I certainly don't begrudge him that, especially when he works hard doing work around the house and in the yard. (The Princess) averages that or more, as she shaves her legs, conditions her hair, etc. Luckily she doesn't do that everyday, yet. Our laundry load per week is double as well. Then of course there are the peripherals like electricity - it takes some to run their electronics, televisions and stereos, mostly at the same time. Sure, I would have a lot of these expenses anyway, but having older children causes the bills to go up. I'm sure you notice a difference now that (Step-daughter 1) and (Step-daughter 2) don't live there anymore.

Gas - First, the truck has nothing to do with this one. The fact is, though, that we attend almost every soccer practice, technical training, meeting, activity and more (except for the one day a week when (The Princess) carpools with (a teammate) and the one practice you drove her to this season). We pick (#1 Son) up from crew practice EVERY day as well (and give some of his friends rides home). Add to that the fact that we NEVER miss a game or regatta, either home or away. Sometimes that means that (C. my Hubby) has to drive (The Princess) one direction out of town and I drive (#1 Son) in the opposite direction so that at least one of us is there. That means a lot to the kids and we choose to attend - in fact we wouldn't miss any of it. But it does cost money. Additionally, add in the incidental expenses like hotel rooms, food on the road, regatta food cost (each rower is required to provide an assigned food item in addition to the actual time that I volunteer at each race), Gatorade, etc., ad infinitum.

We also are trying to rework our budget to factor in future expenses. (#1 Son) just got his study material to get his learner's permit this week. I have been afraid to ask our insurance agent how much that is going to cost us (not to mention an added car). We're also anticipating college (hopefully you have some $$ set aside for that as well) expenses which are fast approaching. Then there's (The Princess's) braces. The financial fun never seems to end.

There are other expenses, but I think you get the picture. MOST IMPORTANTLY, I am IN NO WAY complaining, because (C.) and I have made conscious choices to raise these kids the way we do. We have chosen to give them opportunities (such as soccer and crew) because we think those activities are important to (and for) the kids and quite frankly, (#1 Son) and (The Princess) are VERY GOOD kids. They deserve everything they get and more (do not tell them I said that, though, lest they expect more! :) and they are very grateful for what they have. They show and tell us that quite often. And again, (C.) and I have made these choices, always after careful consideration and financial planning. We choose to do without some things. The truck is our first "New to Us" vehicle in 7 years. We don't have new toys or expensive clothes, nice furniture, etc. And we're OK with that. We pay our bills and life goes on - I hasten to add on a combined salary of much less than you make a year. So you can see where I was a bit offended when it seemed like you were inferring that $800 is more than enough to include "extras," as you put it. I understand that you have problems with (His new wife's ex Hubby who has custody of her kids), etc. but (C.) and I are not taking the kids' money and flying off to Vegas or taking cruises.

I DO appreciate that you have volunteered to help out with the sports fees. Travel soccer isn't cheap, and neither is crew. We'd certainly appreciate it even more if you would help us help the kids to meet their fundraising obligations for each team. That's another thing (C.) and I spend a lot of time (and money) doing.

Again, I am not wanting to argue over this at all. I just wanted to put these thoughts out to you.

(Catt)

Gee Thanks Kid

2007-06-09T13:28:00.000-04:00

So #1 Son was anxiously awaiting the arrival of his latest love interest. He looked great: freshly showered, hair perfectly "messy," cool casual clothes. Apparently the rest of us weren't quite presentable.

To his freshly showered sister (wearing a towel): "You, go put some clothes on."

To C. (who had been working around the house and was shirtless - don't ask): "You, please just put a shirt on."

To The Baby (who had just woken up from his nap and was still sleepy-eyed): "You, look lively! Wake up!"

To Me (who hadn't even gotten out of my PJs, put in my contacts, or even showered. Hey it's Saturday!): "You...um...just...do SOMETHING. Or maybe you can just hide."

Found An Old Post

2007-06-09T11:21:00.001-04:00

See, I was thinking about you guys during my posting drought. I was cleaning out some folders on my computer and found this one from last fall. It's still in rough draft form, and hey, I'm too lazy to edit it today. Please forgive the obvious errors.

Wits End

To Anyone Who Has Left a Legitimate Voicemail On My Phone In the Last Two Weeks:

Please forgive my failure to return your call. The mid-term election next week has thrown a wrench into my life. Apparently I live in an “important swing state,” according to the media. They say the race between the Democrat and the Republican candidate is too close to call. This means that my phone line, the line that I PAY FOR, has been hijacked by any and every political organization that has ever existed. It is no longer safe to answer my own phone.

To illustrate my pain and frustration for those of you who do not live in VA, TN and that other state with a close race, I give you a recap of my phone messages from the past week:

Monday – 3 calls that did not register with my caller ID. According to my machine, I missed 1 telemarketer and 2 political messages. It’s a damned shame that the politicians don’t realize that I am now so pissed that I am planning to vote for the candidate that pisses me off the least – ie. The one who doesn’t call me/write me, etc. every 2 seconds.

Tuesday – 5 voicemails (since I was not home): 1 hang-up (no doubt a friend of one of the kids with no manners), 1 Soccer Mom with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (I handle the hotel reservations for the Princess’ team and one Mom requires a lot of handholding), and 3 political messages.

Wednesday - I was home, but 2 messages hit the machine in the 30 minutes that I was out picking up the kids from school. Both were from local political candidates. Later in the evening I received 2 additional calls from “concerned citizen groups” urging me to vote their way.

Thursday – Just when I thought it couldn’t get any more annoying, there were 3 messages on my machine from politicians who urged me to vote their way. Instead, I am wishing that they all develop hives.

Friday – I am wondering if anyone in charge of a campaign realizes how aggravating these “vote for him/her” calls are.

I’m turning off the phone. I'll talk to you after Tuesday.

Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley

2007-06-06T22:58:00.000-04:00

Gotta LOVE those Ducks!!!

Looking at the Niedermayer brothers, I celebrate the most for their Mom. They now play on the same team, and they have won a Stanley Cup TOGETHER. It wasn't so long ago when they were on opposite teams, facing off against eachother in the finals. Only one child could win and achieve their LIFELONG goal.

See, there's the difference between men and women - Moms and Dads. For the Dad, it's a win-win situation. ONE of his kids is going to win a Stanley Cup. HooYaa! For the Mom, it's agonizing. One of her babies is going to be devastated.

I tried to explain that to my hubby tonight as we were watching the celebrations.

He didn't get it.

Go figure.

We Call Him the Pterodactyl

2007-06-05T21:30:00.000-04:00

There he is in all his glory, "The Baby." He has two gears: Full Speed Ahead and Sleeping. There is no in between.

As a family, we had been having frequent disagreements about cutting the child's hair. As a Mom, I know that once you take that first step and CUT the hair, your little one is no longer "THE BABY." He is instead, a toddler.

I took all the mullet jokes and snide comments in stride. This is my last kid, and I was milking the "baby thing" for all it was worth.

This shot is from one of his sister's soccer games last month. Having inherited his Mother's fair skin, the poor kid gets tackled and drowned in sunblock on a regular basis.

Naturally, some Smart Ass (one of my older kids or my Hubby) - felt the need to give the poor Baby a faux-hawk, both on top and with the mullet. The child became known as the Pterodactyl for a week.

I finally gave in and took him for his first haircut.

*sigh*

To Do List

2007-06-05T08:19:00.000-04:00

1) Find REAL To Do list.

Holy Crow

2007-04-24T21:52:00.000-04:00

I'm actually able to post!!! Hello? Can you hear me now?

After doing the proverbial "technical support dance" with Blogger support, it looks like I am FINALLY back on....for this minute anyway. Believe me my friends, you have been in my thoughts. And honestly, I have really needed your insight, support, etc. Let me finish doing the happy dance so I can test to be sure I really can get back on my own fargin blog.

Flooring 101

2007-03-04T23:13:00.000-05:00

Two songs played simultaneously in my head – “Desperado” and “Flight of the Bumblebee.” I could not stop laughing. C. was not nearly as amused. There we were, racing like maniacs to get to the Home Depot before they closed.

I made some flip comment (as I apparently am known to do) about not being the only poor souls who thought they could “do it themselves” trying to beat the clock this evening. Leave it to C. to point out that none of the other couples looked quite as desperate as we did.

It all started when we made the annual spring pilgrimage to Home Depot for soil. Some of you may remember that I do not have the greenest of thumbs. In fact I tend to have rather unfortunate luck when it comes to agriculture. Never one to be dismayed, I am determined that SOMEDAY, SOMETHING besides weeds and ivy will grow in this yard. But I digress.

It just so happens that you HAVE to walk through the flooring department to get to the cash registers in our Home Depot. OK, I know that is not TECHNICALLY true, but that’s what we keep telling ourselves to justify our subsequent actions.

I have always coveted gorgeous ceramic tile kitchen floors. C. actually made a promise to me that we could get rid of the dingy, scratched, hideously ugly linoleum that plagued my kitchen before The Baby started crawling. You might remember that The Baby is 17 months old now. C. claims he made that promise under duress – some gobbledygook about postpartum hormones or something. Whatever.

Needless to say, being flush with a small tax refund check, we decided to peruse the flooring section on that fateful afternoon. I chose the important stuff like the tile and the color of the grout. C. then figured in all the peripheral crap (tools, supplies, blah, blah blah, whatever) that we would need to cover the floor of that pitifully inadequate space that passes for a kitchen in my house. When all was said and done, we could actually still afford the project. HOORAY!

Unfortunately I kept hearing a little voice of doubt (I now recognize as common sense) in my head: 1) that is an awful lot of money for a space that I hope to completely gut and remodel someday. 2) I love C. with all my heart and soul. He has many talents. Despite wonderful intentions, he has not ever completely FINISHED a major home improvement project. 3) That sure is a lot of money. 4) C.’s sum total experience with laying tile is sitting and watching a tile demonstration at the Home Depot a year or so ago. 5) It is a HUGE amount of money. 6) There sure are a lot of instructions on this “Tile Your Own Home” pamphlet. Should we think about hiring a professional? 7) WHAT am I thinking? A professional would probably cost THREE TIMES this much! 8) The sales lady said she had tile floors and her kitchen was always cold. I hate the cold.

I am sure you can see where this was headed. The “Home Depot Lady” showed us this stuff that looks like hardwood floor. It sort of “floats” on top of the floor, sticking to itself and not the substrate. It did not require any special backing or glue. It was MUCH cheaper than tile and the best part was that The Lady said one person could lay the stuff in one day. She said it was so easy that one of the kids could do it themselves. I said “SOLD” so fast her head was spinning.

I should have known it was too good to be true.

Remember the hideous, grimy, ripped up linoleum that currently lives in my kitchen? Well it seems that it has no intention of being replaced and is putting up quite a fight. Despite the fact that it actually has a HOLE cut out near my sink, rip marks near the fridge that occurred when a new fridge moved in, AND it has begun pulling and rolling up by the backdoor, this stuff thinks it owns the place. Pulling half of the possessed linoleum up resembled the hacking and slashing that you would expect to see in a Friday the 13th remake (with extra cursing as a bonus). Though we finally unceremoniously dumped the offensive pile of evil outside, the linoleum was not going to give up so easily. It still had a surprise for us.

As amateur “Do It Yourselfers,” we had not given much thought to what might have been holding the nasty linoleum to the floor. It seems people use glue. This is not any normal glue. This is the glue from hell. If it is not currently being used to hold the International Space Station together, it should be. Not only has this glue become a permanent part of our kitchen floor, but it has also molded. Yes, I said MOLDED. The best we can figure is that water has gotten down in between the evil linoleum and the floor through the holes that we inherited. C. thought I might be taking things a bit too far when I downloaded the EPA’s mold removal guidelines for commercial buildings and schools.

Well, mold is bad.

We scraped and sanded for two days. By 6:30 this evening, we were pretty exhausted. Of the six square feet that we have been working on, we are down to clean, dry, bare wood on about 4 square inches of it. My throat hurts. My head aches. My microwave is plugged in on the floor of the living room and teenagers keep making hot pockets on their knees. I can’t live like this anymore.

And now my friends, we have come to the part of the story that has C. & I breaking several state driving laws to get to the Holy Grail, I mean the Home Depot and this stuff called Krud Killer. Don’t you just love that name? I found it on the Internet. It is supposed to eat up the glue, or at least soften it enough so that I can completely scrape it up sometime by the end of the decade.

My friends, tomorrow I go to war. Armed with a mask, gloves and protective goggles (as recommended on the can) I will attack Satan’s floor armed with my Krud Killer and a big spade looking thing called a “Floor Bully.”

I don’t like my odds.

Happy VD

2007-02-14T21:23:00.000-05:00

I don't have any statistics to back it up, but I venture to say that more Americans have sex on this day than any other. One could therefore assume that more venereal disease is passed on this day than any other.

Falalalala...lala...la...la.

Plural = More Than One?

2007-02-13T21:33:00.000-05:00

For some reason bigamy has been on my mind lately. If you are my Hubby and reading this, do not worry, I am not looking to raise (ahem) I mean marry another man.

I am out of town all this week on business (in Baltimore - shoot me an email if you are in the area) and snowed in. Being stuck in the hotel is not so bad, really - it's a great hotel (don't tell my family, I'm looking for sympathy). But, between the Court TV website, People Magazine and tonight's episode of Primetime, I've been innundated with news about plural marriages.

I cannot, for the life of me, watch (or read) an interview with a male bigamist and take anything he says seriously. I mean really, it's not about sex? It's not about getting a younger wife when you feel like it? It amazes me that these guys can spout their doctrine with a straight face.

Worse yet are the views of the women and girls. They feel they are meant to be RULED by their men. The interview I saw tonight was enough to make me ralph up my steak dinner (I mean cold gruel). When asked how they would feel if their husband chose another wife, the answer was that they would be honored. Their life was meant to serve their man (that's totally paraphrased, but I'm too lazy, and disgusted to type the whole quote). When asked how many wives their future husband should have, every one of those girls answered, "as many as he wants."

At first I was sickened, but then I got to thinking that maybe the best thing for these men IS to let them have as many wives as they want, as long as they live with ALL their wives and children, ALL the time. If you are a woman who has lived for any length of time with other women, you know one phenomenon of nature. Eventually everyone is on the same schedule.

I'm thinking that being stuck in close quarters with say- 7 or 8 "sister wives," plus say 9 or 12 teenage daughters...and well, you probably get the picture.

Poetic justice.

Mexican Standoff

2007-01-30T23:55:00.000-05:00

It could have been a scene out of an old black and white Western.

Picture two sworn enemies on the dry western plain with tumbleweeds blowing at their feet. Poised about 20 feet apart, each hombre glares at the other with their weapons drawn and legs spread slightly apart ready to spring into action. No words escape their mouths. The seconds tick by. The crowd stares in anticipation.

Yeah, that could have been the scene except for the fact that it happened tonight in our living room. The two hombres are The Middle One and #1 Son (ages 12 and 15 respectively). Their weapon of choice was a cordless telephone. Tumbleweeds? Nope, just clumps of dog hair rolling across the hardwood floor. Oh yeah, the "crowd" would be none other than myself and C. The "sworn enemies" part? (Sigh) Yes, unfortunately that was real.

You see, after dinner this evening, both of my "sweet babies" decided that they NEEDED to use the phone. Immediately. Thanks to the beauty of a cable modem, we only have one phone line into and out of this house. Can you guess where this is going?

Both "sweet children" sprang from the dinner table, lunged for a phone and simultaneously hit the "talk" button. The phone line was open. No one could dial out. No one wanted to give in. They glared at each other. They menacingly waved their cordless phones at each other. Their eyes narrowed into intimidating glares (as my eyes rolled almost out of my head).

They were at a standoff.

You know, parents see their kids as many different things. For some, kids are a gift from a higher power (I tend to believe that on my better days - other days I believe He might be cursing me). For others, kids force them to mature into an adult, whether they want to grow there or not. Their kids ground them. Still others, unfortunately, see their children as a burden.

Personally, I see my kids as an endless source of entertainment. It's cheaper than cable.

Stupid Teenager Tricks

2007-01-24T22:38:00.000-05:00

So early this afternoon, on my way home from work, my cell phone rings. The caller ID shows a number I am not familiar with, but I figure, "what the heck?" and answer it. It's Number One Son on a friend's cell, all agitated. I say "Hello" and am greeted with:

"Oh my GOSH Mom, we were almost arrested!"

I answer with a rather forceful, "WHAT??!?!!?!"

#1 Son: "We were surrounded at an intersection, drug out of Sparkey's car (Sparky is a friend of his, a Senior girl on his crew team who passed up a scholarship to Yale to accept one to Oxford) and patted down!"

Me: "What are you talking about?!?! Are you OK?!"

Him: "Yeah, but it was WILD!"

Me: "Slow down - what happened? I thought you were on your way to practice?!" (Note: I was REALLY trying hard to keep the hysteria out of my voice at this point)

Him: "We were, but it takes Sparky's car a LONG time to heat up and we were cold, so Sparky put her winter crew hood on (Editors Note: This looks like a partial ski mask which actually only covers the back of the head and the mouth - the eyes and nose are open)."

Me: "Yeah...AND??!?!!"

Him: "Well we stopped at this intersection and five cop cars screeched around us and gave us nowhere to go. They started screaming at us to get out of the car."

Me: "WHAT?! WHY?!?! Are you hanging out with criminals?!!?!"

Him: "MOM! Come on. At first we didn't know why they got crazy, but we were scared so we got out of the car. They threw us up against the car and yelled at us a lot. They searched us, patted us down. They even had to call a girl cop to pat Sparky down. This one guy searched Sparky's car and kept yelling at us. He said that if there was a recent bank robbery they could have shot us."

.... Huh?

Me: "WHAT did he say?"

Him: "He asked what we would have done if there had been a recent bank robbery and they saw us, and then said that he would be OK to shoot us if we didn't put our hands up fast enough."

Me: "Was there a bank robbery today?"

Him: "That's what I asked him (THAT'S my BOY!), and he said no and he got, really mad. He said we we looked "suspicious" and they had to check us out because we were in that neighborhood."

...
...

Wow.

FIRST - I'm PISSED! With all the gang violence in our city, all the drug problems - hell all the DANGEROUS drivers, you can think of nothing better to do than to pull these kids over and pat them down for wearing a WINTER hood (when it is 38 degrees) - in BROAD daylight?!??! And it takes FIVE CARS full of you??!?!

SECOND - I am all for "tough love" and "scared straight." Seriously I am. But why not pull the carloads of teens who are cruising around at 11am (or 11Pm), obviously not in school, obviously gang affiliated (ever seen or heard of "Colors?"), and apparently up to no good? Is it better to follow and SURROUND kids who are clearly leaving the school grounds after stretching and working out as a TEAM, dressed in work-out clothes and headed for practice?

I am beside myself tonight. Part of me wants to raise hell with our police Dept. I want someone's ass. But then there is the other side of me - that side that really LOVES those guys today that read my kid the riot act, that scared the crap out of him. And when it all comes down to it, despite all my bluster, I applaud those cops today. They scared the CRAP out of a few kids who don't need it now...but someday they might.

The Gangsters that they missed?

My heart breaks wider.

Holding My Tongue (AKA Trying Not To Laugh Out Loud)

2007-01-22T00:12:00.000-05:00

OK, first I must tell you that I ADORE my sister-in-law. My brother-in-law, not so much.

They are expecting. I am THRILLED, as my Sis-in-law is going to be a TERRIFIC mother! She's had a lot of practice with a niece and of course my BIL. She is a doll with The Baby, #1 Son and The Middle One (the artist formally known as The Little One). But bless her heart, she is a bit jaded. You see, she has been raising my BIL for several years. He is not, unfortunately, the typical baby. As a matter of fact, we have been told by BIL that they do NOT want hand-me-downs for their latest edition.

Eventually I stopped laughing. Sort of. My MIL reminded me that this was their first kid and thus it was "all new" to them. Yeah. OK.

As I was folding 12 month sizes into a box, I couldn't help chuckling. You see, I am willing to bet our next house payment that there will be a point in the very near future that my in-laws will actually beg for The Baby's hand-me-downs. This point will occur about the first time my precious little niece or nephew barfs on his 5th onesie of the day after his or her 3rd diaper blow-out.

Ah yes, my friends. Reality hurts.

Test

2007-01-20T23:13:00.000-05:00

Did I pass?

AHA! I have been convinced that my recent posting problems are the combination of my complete laziness and Blogger's conspiracy to switch everyone over to the new software.

So far, so good.

Woo Hoo! Worked again. I realize that you all have no clue what I am doing. Honestly, neither do I, most of the time. Tonight I am adding a bit more to this post and publishing it a little at a time as a test.

HA!! Worked again. Of course I know that as soon as I actually create a decent post, the Blogger Boogie Monster (BBM) will get it. Of this fact I am sure. I also know that the odds of a BBM strike increase exponentially depending on A) How much I cracked myself up, thus the post has a small chance of amusing you, B)How long it took me to write said post, both in my mind and then actually getting the words to my keyboard, AND finally C) My ability to actually recreate said post should it get eaten. For instance, a post written and meticulously edited in MS Word has a much greater chance to see the light of the blog. Conversely, the even GREATER post that hit me like a bolt of lightening that I just HAD to share with you ASAP, so you will crack up over it as much as I did...well, that's the post that gets eaten. Oh crap. Hold on...

Deeeeeaaaaammn! Still working. Maybe Blogger has become fearful of me, as well it should. More likely I just need to conform and upgrade to the new software (perhaps). But my friends, I am afraid. Opps....gotta publish -

Yee HAA! So far, so good.

So I'm really beginning to think that I need to upgrade this stupid software. I've read the hype, etc. It of course, SOUNDS good, but don't they all? I can remember countless Microsoft updates that resulted in me beating my head against a wall for several hours. It doesn't help, by the way.

OOOOOooo! Time to check ----> YES! You're still here!

So I'm scared, my friends. Well, it's not that I am scared really. Years of technical support give me the tools AND the mental loopiness to handle a software upgrade or change. It's just that whole "hating change" thing I have going on. I mean, if it ain't broke, don't fix it.

For cryin' out loud, I drink. Don't pull the run out from under me.

As I tell me Hubby and any and all our techie friends: "Just make it go. - I don't want to deal with the other crap."

Catt

PS - So who has upgraded and what are your thoughts??

Who uses other software? Should I look at it? Why do you like it?

*sigh* help me.

Wonder If I Could Figure Out Wordpress? Blogger is Really Tweaking Me Tonight. I lost 2 Decent Posts. Grrr

2007-01-09T23:55:00.000-05:00

It's Over - Move ON already!

2007-01-04T23:12:00.000-05:00

Dear Neighbors:

It is now January FOURTH and the Holidays are OVER. I strongly suggest that you give the "Holiday Spirit" a rest. I, of all neighbors, completely understand if you lack the spare time to remove your garish light displays, but for God's sake at least TURN THEM OFF!

I fully admit that my holiday decorations were not completely on display until December 22. I also understand that even though you DOUBLED the number of tacky lawn animals, blow up snowthings, animated hoogititz AND ran the fake icicles to new heights on your roof, garage and shed, you still managed to be fully illuminated by November 7th. Please understand though, that you DO NOT have to make up for my lack of "holiday spirit." Really. Santa is not keeping score.

I mean come on. You know me. I'm a procrastinator. I'm terminally unorganized. I am the neighbor who brings her trashcans in three days late. Is that any reason to punish me?

Really?

OK, so you may not have any sympathy for me, but how about my kids? I am most concerned about the Middle One (the Artist Formally Known as The Little One). The problem wasn't as much of an issue while she was on holiday break, but now that she is in school again she is really struggling. You see, she is only getting a couple of hours of sleep a night. It seems that since one of her bedroom windows faces your house, your "Holiday Spirit" lights up her room like she was a prisoner of war under interrogation. She's ultra-crabby and that scares her family and worries her teachers.

My Dear Neighbors, I have written our representative on City Council to suggest a law to penalize residents who continue to illuminate their holiday yard displays after New Year's Day. Don't take it personally. There are many others in our city who are guilty of this offensive "crime." I have suggested that a fine of $1 per light be assessed to all guilty parties. That would mean you would owe about 12 Gazillion dollars. Hmmm...in that case, I would owe NO personal property tax.

Just be happy I don't own a gun.

Sincerely,

Catt

Gratuitous Baby Update

2007-01-02T21:15:00.000-05:00

Age - 16 months (on the 6th).

Walking - actually running - and into EVERYTHING.

Teeth - 7

Still Nursing - first thing in AM and last thing before bed - but we're trying to break the last one, as all he does now is play (read that: smiles at me mischieviously and then bites).

Hair - Still not much, although it is growing in the back. He has a little baby mullet. I think it's kind of funny. I am sure he'll resent me someday when he is older. He can get over it in therapy like the other two.

Words - Mama, Mommy, Daddy, Bubby (his older brother), TssssTsss (for Sissy, his sister), NaNa, PaPa, bubble, Elmo (Dear God), on (he likes to turn on lights), off (sometimes he actually turns them off, too), no (but of course), NumNum (for food and drinks), ball, me me (when he wants something you are holding or something he is not supposed to have) and Gah (which we believe is dog and any other walking four legged creature...oh and lobsters).

The Sneaky Gene

2006-10-17T23:50:00.000-04:00

I've always known they were sneaky. Tonight The Princess of Wails (The Artist Formerly Known As The Little One, aka. The Middle Child because she has developed a rather humorous case of "Jan Brady Syndrome.") almost pulled one over on me. Either she is getting better, or I am inching closer to "the home."

You see, #1 Son is selling candy as a fund-raiser for his Crew team. His sister is an easy mark, as she covets candy. Tonight, in lieu of the usual mixed temptation box he usually has, #1 Son brought home a box containing nothing but Reese's Cups. Reese's Cups are one of The Princess' favorite poisons. As you might recall from a previous post, I am a bit fond of the chocolate and peanut-butter treats myself. (Ahem)

Obviously #1 Son has a knack for marketing.

Anyhoo, The Girl buys a Reese's Cup package from her brother. This angered me, as dinner was soon to hit the table. Being the excellent Mother that I am, I threatened to inflict bodily harm on her if she ate the candy before dinner. She kept laughing and saying, "Do you want me to show it to you? I haven't eaten it! You can trust me, Mom!" Of course, being the excellent AND trusting Mother that I am, I kept demanding proof. The kid provided it on demand, in the form of the unopened candy wrapper. I was actually rather happy with her.

My bubble burst after dinner when I helped #1 Son count his money and account for all the candy. It seems that The Princess used some of her birthday money to purchase not ONE, but FIVE packages of candy from her brother. She was eating them throughout the evening, while saving one unopened candy to show me each time she was challenged.

What a little Butthead.

I had no choice but to admit defeat this time around. I'm not happy about it.

Obviously the Sneaky Gene comes from her father's side of the family.

Open Letter to Motorists...

2006-10-08T22:52:00.000-04:00

...Driving East on Interstate 64 in the Morning:

Dear Idiot:

Repeat after me, "The big burning ball will not hurt me." Repeat it again. And again. You see my driving impaired friend, the "big burning ball" is nothing but the sun. It appears every morning in the same place. If we do not have rain, the "big burning ball" will always be there. You've probably been driving this same route for ages. This is not a news flash.

The "big burning ball" is a zillion miles away from Interstate 64. It will not hurt you. Trust me. I understand that it startles you as you round a corner or crest a small hill. Please believe me when I tell you that there is NO NEED to slam on your brakes. You do not need to screech to a complete halt.

You see, the simple act of slamming on your brakes eventually causes a chain reaction that slows and backs up traffic for miles. This makes your fellow drivers a little testy. We live in a military area. How many of your fellow drivers are licensed to carry a weapon? I'm just saying you might want to think about it.

Perhaps you will want to be proactive in the future. Here's a clue: things like SUNshades and SUNglasses might be helpful to you. You drive this route everyday. Surely you can formulate a gameplan to counteract the "big burning ball?" Do it for your own safety.

I'm just sayin'.

What Was I Thinking?

2006-09-20T23:04:00.000-04:00

Tonight I actually had an extra few minutes on my hands. Of course that only means that I have forgotten something that I should have done. Oh well. Instead of wracking my brain, I decided to clean up. Not the house, Silly! I cleaned up my list of bookmarks. I heard once (from a major Internet junkie) that your bookmarks reflect who you really are. I don't buy it. The only thing I can tell from my bookmarks is that I obviously "surf the net" and drink simultaneously. As proof, here is a short list of sites that I quickly deleted from my list of favorites tonight while repeating the mantra, "what was I thinking?" I'm not going to link them because honestly, I'd probably be embarrassed.

TV Inventions - This is a site that facilitates the sale of items shown on television. I assume these all have infomercials. I am guessing that I found this URL late at night after watching a really bad informercial. Of the products listed on the homepage, I cannot for the life of me guess what originally caught my eye. I can tell you that my favorite tonight is the "Slimming Shaper." It appears to be a girdle that promises to "slim your love handles, bulges,and panty lines while smoothing outdoor thighs, waist and tummy. Give your buttocks an extra lift while flattening your tummy at the same time!" Read that - squeeze your fat out through your butt. It sounds painful.

Being a Girl - This is a site about (QUICK - Sensitive Guy Readers Look AWAY!) Tampax and what happens "once a month." This bookmark is a mystery to me since I'm pretty familiar with the subject. The site DOES look promising, though. A link called "Queen for a Week" caught my eye. I didn't delete this one, as I need to go back and investigate this link in case there is info there I can lord over the Hubby.

MSN - I can't for the life of me figure out why I bookmarked the MSN homepage? No, it was not something that came preinstalled. I got rid of all of that mess eons ago. Yes, I am sure. I worked for several years in a technical position, remember? I can't even begin to guess what I was thinking.

Radio Stations - A site containing links to music stations: none of which are local, certainly none of which broadcast a music genre I actually listen to.

Media Guide - A guide to television shows...at first glance. The truth is that it is a site trying to sell DVDs. I guess this one had fine print that hurt my head at the time and I saved it to read when I was sober.

Art (or Something Like It) - This was a website that basically looked like a MS Paint program. It's big draw was that you could "display" your "masterpiece" for others to view. Scribbling in color really should not rate a bookmark on my machine. I don't have the time.

There are SEVERAL other sites I removed from my favorites list tonight. I am just too tired (read that embarrassed) to list more.

I really need to give up drinking and surfing...at the same time. On their own, they are very admirable pursuits.

You Were Wrong!

2006-09-15T23:00:00.000-04:00

HA! I bet you thought they had killed me didn't you? Well they tried my friends. They really tried, but I prevailed to witness yet another glorious "First Day of School." I swear, there is nothing quite as satisfying as waking the rotten fruit of one's loins at the crack of dawn on the "First Day of School," especially if they have been at each other's throats and driving you into shock therapy all summer. Perhaps I overdid it a bit by playing the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah as their wake-up call on the stereo...

At full blast...
On repeat.

You would have thought I committed the faux pas of kissing them in public in full 80's garb by the nasty reception I received. Ingrates. They should be happy that I am so into their education. Some day they will thank me.

Despite the rude reception I was subjected to, nothing was going to ruin my favorite day of the year. You should have seen them scurrying around like little lost blind mice, bumping into walls and acting startled at the smallest noise. It was reminiscent of my reaction this summer to a ringing phone at 2:30am or a wrestling match on the stairs over the last Oreo. Honestly my friends, I haven't had this much fun since...well, since the "First Day of School" last year.

I can only describe my euphoria as the same feeling as discovering a huge molten chocolate fudge cake topped with numerous scoops of Ben and Jerry's Brownie Fudge and Half Baked ice cream, showered with dark chocolate chips and smothered with dark chocolate fudge, marshmallow cream and giant chunks of chocolate chip cookie dough...that magically provides a NEGATIVE calorie count, thus making it a diet food where you would actually lose weight and eventually shrink to a size 2.

Yeah. It's that good.

Life By The Numbers

2006-08-22T21:57:00.000-04:00

12 - The number of shoes strewn on the living room floor.

45 - The number of minutes the baby napped today.

37 - The number of minutes he screamed before he took the nap.

4 - The number of times I had to ask #1 Son to take out the trash (one for each can in the house).

6 - The number of dirty cups in The Princess' room.

2 - The number of times The Princess was reminded to take towels when she went to shower.

53 - The number of minutes she stubbornly sat in the bathroom "air-drying."

3 - The number of times I calmly asked them to quit fighting.

5 - The number of times I "strongly suggested" they leave each other alone.

7 - The number of times I screamed "KNOCK IT OFF!"

13 - The number of days until school starts.

Where Have You Been?

2006-07-27T23:57:00.000-04:00

Over the past couple of weeks I have gotten a few emails and a couple of instant messages along the lines of, "Where have you been? I guess your summer has been crazy. You must have your hands full," etc. Are you people smoking crack? I have been posting almost constantly. I have made the comment, "I am SO blogging this!" on several occasions. Unfortunately, what I have written in my head and what has actually gotten posted are two different things.

I chalk it up to early senility and motherhood. You cannot hold either one against me.

In the effort to catch up (because things around here are going to really get "interesting" in the near future) here are the highlights:

* It took #1 Son 2 weeks to convince me that he did not fail Spanish and was really voluntarily attending a review session the first 3 weeks of summer vacation.

* The baby grew teeth - the baby was still nursing - the baby thought biting was amusing - the baby got over it, with "help."

* The Princess has no friends and her life is the most boring ever. I continue to attempt to sit her down to talk about it and boost her self-esteem, but she is never home.

* I had ONE petunia bloom (BLOOM, not plant) survive in my yard this year. Yes, my entire yard. Remember the tulip from last year? Missing In Action.

* There is one weed growing in the bushes in front of the yard that has now reached 6 feet tall. It looks like a tree of some sort. We did not plant it, nor have we ever seen it before in the last 7 years we have lived here. I am scared of it.

* Speaking of scared, #1 Son and The Princess went an entire week without trying to kill each other. They were even NICE and cooperative. I actually saw them hug once. There is a disturbance in the force.

* My fear hit a fever pitch two days ago when the kids made me breakfast in bed. Seriously. 2 Belgian waffles (GARNISHED with strawberries!!!) and a sunny-side egg. C. wasn't home nor was he aware of this. And it wasn't even Mother's Day nor my birthday.

Two days ago, my friends. They want something.

I'm sleeping with one eye open.

Guilty Pleasure

2006-07-09T23:13:00.000-04:00

My friends, I have a new guilty Internet pleasure. Much like the proverbial train wreck, I am having trouble looking away. The site is called Don't Date Him Girl. This website profiles "alleged cheaters," all of whom are men. Women tell their stories, provide identifying info and can even submit pictures about the cheaters in their lives. It reads like a bad Maury episode.

perusing these stories (many of them painfully illiterate), I don't know whether to laugh, feel sorry for the women or want to slap them. Clearly the women utilizing these websites are lacking in self-esteem. My favorites are the profiles that include, "he will sleep with you the first night he meets you, refuse to wear a condom and then leave you when you get pregnant. He won't even buy a rattle or one pack of diapers!"

Sad.

Only 6?

2006-07-05T00:33:00.000-04:00

This evening I volunteered to go out and put gas in the car. It is a rather mundane task, yet it is one that I savor. You see, in those precious 15 minutes, no one is fighting to the death over the last popsicle. No one is screaming, "Mooooommmm!" At the gas pump, nothing is thrown in anger (though it probably should be in protest of the outrageous price per gallon). I am not called upon to settle any disputes, no matter how trivial. In fact, for those glorious few minutes NO one is attached to my boob (yes, he's still nursing, and despite the fact that it feels like he's 3 years old, he's only 10 months).

When I started the ignition this evening, I was assaulted by the car stereo. Obviously my first born was the last one to touch the dial, as evidenced by the blood threatening to gush from my ears due to the decibel level. I've got to admit that I am not a huge fan of my kids' music preferences. At the risk of sounding like my parents, I cannot stand the nonsense lyrics, redundant thumping, and worst of all the lack of creativity and talent. How hard is it to sample the music of others and have a computer enhance your voice to a tolerable pitch? But I digress.

Once the pressure in my ears equalized I was able to make out something about a contest sponsored by the radio station. The grand prize is a brand new V-6 Ford Mustang.

Huh...?

Um...?

Am I the only one that believes that is an oxymoron? Military intelligence, deafening silence, and now V-6 Mustang?

*sigh* I miss the 80s.

The Law

2006-06-19T23:52:00.000-04:00

Day 4 of Summer Vacation and it has already gotten ugly. I am determined that this summer is going to be different. We will have peace and harmony, along with a clean house if it kills them. As I was doing the laundry today, I was inspired to institute some rules in writing, as my beloved family has obviously forgotten them in the excitement of summer break. Behold the latest edict:

Yes, that is a picture of the actual list posted on the door to our garage/laundry room. It reads as follows:

ATTENTION FAMILY!

It has come to my attention that you all still believe in the laundry fairy. SHE DOES NOT EXIST! She and the Tooth Fairy took off for Las Vegas several years ago. As of today, June 19, 2006, we will begin reinforcing the valuable lesson of taking care of our belongings. Penalties will now be assessed for various infractions as follows:

Smelly socks that have to be turned right-side = 1 hour NO electronics PER sock

Dirty socks found anywhere but the hamper or laundry = 1 hour NO electronics PER sock

Shoes found anywhere but on your feet or in your room = 1 DAY NO electronics

Clothing found in the dirty laundry that you have not worn = 1 DAY NO electronics

Clean folded clothing that does NOT make it to your drawers (and instead ends up strewn on the floor) = 1 WEEK NO electronics.

***Note Â Electronics = television, computers, PS2, PSP, telephone, DVD, VCR, etc. This list is subject to change at any time.

The sign met with mixed reviews, as expected. The Princess of Wales declared that it was, "the stupidest list of rules ever." The Prince was OK with it, as he has been washing his own laundry for months and he thinks this is aimed at his sister. Won't he be surprised when the last rule costs him serious computer time? C., of course, applauded the posting.

I have already decided to modify the sign. I need to add:

Any items found in the pockets of laundry will immediately become thepossessionn of The Management. This is regardless of the form of the item. The Management could care less if it is money or your "favorite" pen or rock.

and

Clothing for inanimate objects (such as stuffed animals) does not get dirty or worn. Each item of stuffed animal clothes = 1 DAY NO electronics.

(PS - Oh Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley! If the Pens should ever leave the Burgh, my heart will belong 2 hours south!) - And yes, I know that probably only Cuppojoe will get that.

Count Down

2006-06-15T04:00:00.000-04:00

There are exactly 6 hours and 45 minutes before the start of the kids' summer break. How can this be? I have not even begun to recover from the LAST summer break. I 'm not ready.

Why do they call it a BREAK anyway? What is this break? Who actually gets one? Certainly not the parents or anything.

And while I'm bitching, can anyone give me ANY good reason for the last two weeks of school besides cleaning out the cafeteria? I must admit that I get a bit of a charge when the kids come home and whine that they had to endure yet another "Manager's Choice." Hopefully they will appreciate my efforts at dinner that much more (fat chance). Both my 5th grader and my 8th grader have done nothing in school but watch movies and "hang out" for the last two weeks. Well, they've done more - factor in the class picnics, trips, play days, etc. and they honestly have no room for complaint. *sigh*

These kids have been getting out of school for "half days" for well over a week. Tomorrow - the official "last" day of school, my son will attend Middle School for exactly 2 hours and 15 minutes, while my 5th grader will be in class an hour and 45 minutes. They are both hoping to accomplish their goal of getting their yearbook signed.

This is what my tax dollars pay for? I swear to you that I still have the facial twitch from last year. The Prince & Princess don't seem to notice. I have already begun my "sermons." Tonight's included the declaration that they better NOT expect to lay around here all summer like royalty and eat us out of house and home (only eating crap mind you) because they are bored. In fact I DARE them to say they are bored. I've got their "bored." There are LOTS of things to do around here. I am looking forward to having slave labor. I even gave them assignments this evening. I told them that I expect a paper tomorrow listing snack foods that they will actually eat. These lists MUST include at least a few healthy things like fruits and veggies. We'll see what I get.

Tell me again, my friends, that I will survive. Please? There are only 1,944 hours until the new school year (but who's counting?). I should be able to handle that. Right?

The Walk of Shame

2006-06-06T22:45:00.000-04:00

OH. MY. GOSH. My friends, today I am doing the walk of shame. No, not THAT walk (from my days dating C.) - this one is more like eating my words. Open big fat keyboard, insert foot.

Not more than four days after condescendingly judging a very spoiled, rich celebrity for her baby "mishaps," I had one fall off the bed. It wasn't even one one of the bigger ones either. I am SO filled with shame. He's fine, didn't even cry but for a couple of seconds. I, however, am humbled.

Isn't this how my life goes? Just when I say things are going well, a tree falls or the roof caves in. (I have proof. Read the archives.) So of course, when I get all uppity and snooty towards said unnamed trashy celebrity it figures that my own little bundle of joy takes a header off the bed. You would think I would have learned my lesson. It's not rocket science. (sigh)

Of course, I am sure it's not some weird cosmic law of opposites or anything. That would be silly.

But just in case...

I can honestly say that I have never won the lottery.

Mother Of the Year

2006-06-02T22:05:00.000-04:00

I consider myself an experienced parent. Hey, I haven't killed anyone or lost anyone (for very long anyway), so I would even call myself a successful parent. It's honestly not rocket science. In my 14 1/2 years I can honestly say that I have:

1) Never driven down a highway with one of them in my lap.

2) Never ridden them around in a convertible in the midday sun, especially not in a forward facing carseat when they were infants.

3) And somehow I have never managed to drop one of them out of a highchair subsequently cracking their skull.

I'm just sayin'.

Surreal

2006-05-31T23:55:00.000-04:00

By now I am sure you have heard of the incredibly unbelievable "mix-up" of two college students who were involved in a tragic accident several weeks ago. I was utterly speechless upon learning the details. I cannot imagine the shock and intense emotions either family has had to endure today.

BUT - I am amazed at the faith and grace these people (the family and their friends) have shown throughout the entire ordeal. If you have not read their blog, be sure to take the time to do so. What loving people the VanRyns are.

The Monster I Have Created

2006-05-24T23:11:00.000-04:00

The other title I was toying with for this post was "My Own Personal Monster." Obviously I have been listening to some late 80's and early 90's music. Major kudos to anyone who can figure out which bands from my two post titles. I'm willing to bet no one gets them both - one yes, but not both.

Anyhoo, I am a BAAAD Mommy. I have no one to blame for my rotten baby but myself. You would think that after two kids, I would be able to handle the latest edition. I didn't do so bad with the first two. Granted, they will probably be in therapy for some portion of their lives, but hey, at least I didn't kill them (yet) right? The baby, on the other hand, is a lesson in childrearing that NO book has printed yet.

You see, he will NOT nap. Let me clarify, he will not take an afternoon nap despite the fact that he is exhausted. He takes a short morning nap, but when he is REALLY tired and REALLY needs it - no dice. I fully admit that this is because I was lazy, though I prefer to think of it as absentmindedness due to my "advanced maternal age" (a condition that was actually written on my medical chart). I'll fess up - I allowed him to take his afternoon nap in the swing everyday for about a month not so long ago. Don't hate - at least I was able to get the dishes done (read that - "do my own thing such as crafts, watching bad television, etc"). Of course I am now paying for it in spades. As this is how my luck runs, the kid has outgrown the swing (at 8 months). Remember that pathetic skinny little preemie? He's a complete pudgeball now. His feet hang over the edge of the swing and it creaks a really scary death march when it tries to propel the chunky baby back and forth. In the interest of safety (and a healthy fear of CPS), we have retired the swing.

This brings up the other bad habit that I have allowed the child to develop over the past couple of months. Again, it is most probably my "advanced maternal issue." When I didn't plop the kid in the swing, I allowed him to nap on my shoulder as I also napped. Ouch. That's painful to admit.

So here we are trying to unlearn bad habits. He rubs his eyes, he yawns, he nurses until he's sleepy (no I am not allowing him to fall asleep while nursing) and yet...NOTHING. NADA. ZIP. SCREAMFEST. The last several days have been interesting. As you may have read in my last post, he has done everything from screaming himself hoarse to screaming so long in intervals (i.e. he screams, takes a 5 minute break then screams again) that his eyes get swollen, the temperature in his room raises to "hellfire" from all the hot air and I end up waiting for the authorities, that the neighbors have certainly called, to arrive. This kid looks so bad after these episodes that yesterday one of my friends swore he had been smoking dope. He had all the signs: red half closed eyes, stupid grin, babbling incoherently, the munchies. It is pitiful.

People wonder why I drink. I can only hope that I live through this latest "challenge" before I become a card carrying alcoholic. It's not looking very promising.

I'm Rather Pathetic

2006-05-19T01:17:00.000-04:00

I have this whole post in rough draft form about how I have ruined my son (the baby one). It's true and probably very amusing, if you are NOT me. I'll post it here shortly, but instead of editing and posting that simple little excerpt of my pathetic life, what have I done this evening? I spent my time online actually registering on Pfaltzgraff.com with an anniversary/wedding registry. How pathetic is that really? I highly recommend it though. You don't ever have to show it to anyone. It's just fantasy and FUN! And don't we deserve at least a little bit of fun...Somewhere? Who are we hurting? No one. And if a friend happens to buy from our registry as a gift and you happen to buy from hers, what can the hubbster say? Absolutely nothing.

Honestly I am chalking it up to my completely crappy day filled with a baby who refused to nap (and screamed himself hoarse - for the third day in a row), a Princess who not only had soccer practice but more homework and studying for her SOLs (Standards of Learning tests which I HATE - don't get me going!) than she could possibly handle in ONE evening, despite the sports; a teenager moping through the usual angst, stressed about his SOLs, just generally grumpy and of course cranking his music up to 800+ decibels to make my teeth fall out of my head. Did I mention the latest - the eyeliner? *sigh*

Anywho - real post is coming soon. I just had WAY too much fun tonight registering on the Pfaltzgraff site. It brings one back to the days when we believed in Santa. "Oh Fat Red Man, please bring me the 48 - piece Grapevine set. I've been good! I promise!"

HAHA! If you're in the mood, register and enjoy (at ANY site/registry you want). I promise it will make you feel better. It's like retail therapy without the big credit card bills. It doesn't get much better than this (and still keep you out of bankruptcy!)

What's not to love?

Enjoy!

Let's Keep This Between Us For Now

2006-05-15T23:20:00.000-04:00

Can I confide in you? This is rather traumatic for me. I don't know if I have the strength to persevere. Please understand that it has been 35+ years (give or take a few). My friends, I have decided to grow out my bangs. I haven't told anyone yet, lest I lose my courage and trim them. Oh fine, chuckle if you must, but seriously I have had bangs for as long as I can remember, whether or not they were fashionable. You have to understand that my bangs have always been a comfort to me. They've been a part of my life, forever, for better or worse:

In 1969 the bangs were born. Not me, the bangs. I was bald for at least the first 2 years of my life. It took a couple more years before I even had enough hair to cut bangs from.

In the 70's the bangs were thick and ragged. My mother used to cut them herself. Pictures of me then look like my hair was trimmed by a drunken sailor with hedge trimmers. Mom swears I was a "fidgetter." No one fidgets that much.

The 80's saw my bangs take on a life of their own. They were BIG and feathered. It was a good thing that the rest of my hair was styled in a "maintenance-free" spiral perm, because it took a good hour just to get the bangs perfected.

In the 90's they were sparser than they had ever been, but they were still there. Cut with a razor and "tapered," the wisps gave me just enough cover to be comfortable in a crowd.

Now, in the 21st Century, they look dated. REALLY dated, especially when I trim them myself. I have apparently become the drunken sailor with hedge trimmers.

SO there you have it. I'm growing them out. I am going to be in style for the first time in my life, even if it kills me. It's been 4 days. They're already on my nerves.

I Only Get ONE Day?

2006-05-14T01:23:00.000-04:00

Yes my friends, this is my Mother's Day post. The title harks back to an on going dialog that I have with the Princess of Wails EVERY year at this time. She is a bit incensed that Moms get a whole day and yet, there is no "Kids Day." Of course my response is that EVERY day is kids day. Duh.

Anyhoo, it is the middle of the night and I am still scammbling to be sure everything is perfect for my Mom, my MIL and my BIL and his wife (my SIL). Notice I am not concerned about my FIL and my Dad? They'll be happy with any tribute to our Moms that we come up with. We've begun "Mother's Day Eve" if you will...and all I can think of is the very BEST Mother's Day ever. I don't think they can ever top it. My mind drifts back to last year at this time. I was 39, working on my Master's Degree and surprisingly pregnant (just found out!), which was certainly NOT in our plan (the preggers part). That May I was beside myself with MY stuff - what was I going to do about school? How could I handle another child? Could I survive an infant? How could we afford it? Would the kids feel slighted? Dear Lord where were we going to put this one? And on and on...ad nauseum. Hopelessly pitiful, yes?

The Lord works in mysterious ways, and though He has a pretty awesome sense of humor, he makes it all work out in the end. The Baby was 7 weeks early (born at 33 weeks), but you would NEVER know it now. We spent 2 1/2 weeks in the level two nursery, and it was the most terrifying time of my life - bar none. Not only is he a BIG boy, he's pretty advanced - at least I think so. We have been blessed.

BUT I HAVE SO DIGRERSSED!!! I meant to talk about THE BEST Mother's Day EVER. It happened last year (I was preggers with the Baby). I have to tell you that for the first day in history, My beloved children made me breakfast in bed as a surprise. They made it all by themselves....seriously. (And Frighteningly since I am the chef in house!) My friends, I lay in bed dreaming about several more house of sleep. I was instead to be feted with my Mother's Day Breakfast Surprise.

The eggs were runny, the waffles were burned on one side, the coffee was incredibly bitter. The orange juice was "extra pulp" (when I can only drink pulp free). I choked down every bit of it. My kids were happy - I was loved.

Bingo - Another sucessful year!

Can We Be Serious?

2006-05-10T23:53:00.000-04:00

OK. so the Hubster and I were watching the tube tonight while The Milk Leech was winding down. I do so love my NBC, so we were catching yet another episode of Dateline and their "To Catch a Predator" series. For those of you who are unfamiliar, this is a "sting" operation that has been set up to catch and expose (in such an embarrasing and satisfying way!) creeps who try to solicit sex with underage kids.

In the past, I have TiVo'ed these episodes and forced my kids to watch them. The Prince and Priness were sufficiently freaked out. Couple that with the fact that we constantly monitor them online, and I feel cautiously safe. Oh yeah and there is the fact that Hubby and I have a background in computers (not to mention my ex'es profession as a network guru). They cannot make a keystroke that we don't record. Communisim? Nazism? Who cares, they are my kids. Let them sue me!

Anyhoo, the "question of the evening" tonight was this:

Have there always been this many perverts and pedophiles in the world, OR does the Internet contribute and manufacture more of them? Is it the fantasyland provided by the annonymity of a computer screen? Do some people take it too far, get caught up and go over the edge? Or were they nasty felons to begin with?

Keep in mind, I don't care what the answer is - I am not making excuses nor advocating for disgusting perverts. I think any and all people who solicit underage kids for sex should be punished to the fullest extent of the law (and then turned over to the victim's parents). I am just curious why there seem to be so MANY incidents of this now than when I was a kid.

Rainy Days and Mondays

2006-05-08T22:38:00.000-04:00

Babies who wake up screaming at 4:00am are a harbinger of the rest of your day.

Said babies are far more cranky than usual.

The mother of a cranky baby gets incredibly crabby herself.

Dogs with small bladders and even smaller brains are afraid of the rain.

Dogs who are afraid of the rain will attempt to hold it for approximately 1 hour and 47 minutes.

The pouring rain will last for 1 hour and 53 minutes. You do the math. Be sure to factor in the only carpet in the entire house. Which was just cleaned.

The number of times your over-excitable soccer Mom friend will call you in the morning (every half an hour until you answer the phone) is exponential to the number of hours of sleep you lost the previous night.

Multiply that number by 2 if the baby is finally napping with you.

Multiply that number again by 2 if your daughter has left her telephone handset with the incredibly obnoxious ring in your room.

It is a safe bet that when you resemble a sleep deprived zombie with the corresponding attention span of a gnat, you will not get a shower.

Children who waltz in from school with all the subtlety of a Mardi-Gras parade, thus waking the baby you have been desperately trying to get to take an afternoon nap and announce, "what's your problem?" risk imminent death.

So...how was your day?

Response

2006-05-08T00:21:00.000-04:00

Recently life has really kicked me in the tookus. There is baby crap and kid school crap and house crap and family crap and well, I've been up to my booty in the proverbial crap for some time and can't seem to get my act together (no surprise, right?). This blog has been on my mind though - a LOT! You see I have at least a zillion (give or take) posts started both on my computer and on scratch paper. I actually lay in bed some nights composing posts. They're good, too. Trust me (but then again, I drink). I finally got smart a couple of nights ago and put a pad of paper next to the bed so I could jump up and record my brilliance. In the morning however, I realized that I probably should have turned on the light before writing.

Anyhoo, I really do have some catch up posts to write. If you will indulge me one more night, I promise not to troll eBay again until I write something worthwhile. Wait. Was that out loud?! OUCH. I.can.do.it.

In the meantime, I am responding to previous comments as a post because I am really cheesy like that. Enjoy the fromage:

Nanner - Thank you for declaring The Baby as your favorite Easter Bunny so far. My only defense for those pictures is that my MIL does it to him. Hopefully someday he will remember that it was she and not I when he relates the experience on his shrink's couch.

Julie - I wish he was at your house, too, especially when he refuses to go to sleep.

Deanna - God makes them cute so we don't kill them.

Jeanette - See the response above (happy everything to you, too!)

Diana - You are too sweet! I will save this to show him someday when he is a teen who hates everything about himself (like my other son).

Esther - Back at ya Babycakes!

Moo Moo - You wouldn't say that if you saw him tonight covered in pureed peas.

JamDaddy - Lovey, my kids don't seem to grow actual hair until they pass their 2nd birthday. We have the pictures to prove it. Sadly, he still has way more hair than his Daddy!

Beth - Back at ya Babe! So did you survive tax season?

Little Miss - A migraine? NO! I hope you had good drugs to ride it out at least. I can't wait to catch up on your spring break adventure!

Liz - At some point weren't you supposed to be in my neck of the woods?

My Good Twin - Email me. Let's plan a trip this year. I promise I am not preggers.

Jerri Ann - I wish I had known you were getting rid of them. I would have made you an offer. As it is, my MIL buys them for the kid. Apparently they are great to chew on and then throw on the floor (based on his only interaction with them so far). The sad part is that I am sure they cost WAY more than his favorite toys, which happen to be boxes, paper towels, tissue boxes and stray diapers.

Nina - You are too kind! I will post more instead of spending money on eBay...really. I will. No. For real. I promise.

So there you go my friends. I have posted the ultimate cop out. Forgive me. Could I suck more? I don't think so.

Happy Bunny Day

2006-04-16T23:01:00.000-04:00

Hope you and yours had a magical Easter or Passover (or just a terrific weekend if you don't observe either)!

I'll be back soon. I've just survived Spring Break (barely). We've got some catching up to do!

Catt

Goooooooaaaaalll!

2006-03-30T03:32:00.000-05:00

You've gotta love dedicated soccer fans.

Technology and the Truant

2006-03-27T23:45:00.000-05:00

# 1 Son, who never gets sick mind you, was home today with one NASTY stomach virus. I will save you gentle readers the gory details, but you parents out there know exactly what I am talking about. As he missed a day of classes, I certainly expected some type of communication from the school administration.

When I was a student and was absent from class, some poor old secretary had to make live phone calls to notify a parent that little Johnny was not in school that day. I'll have to add that to the list of jobs I would hate.

Now in MODERN times, as my kids love to say, the school administration has a computer call each house to announce Little john's truancy. I can only imagine that some old woman now just types a list of student ID numbers into some program and off the auto-dialer goes.

You would think that this modern system is much more efficient than good old Ms. Finklepickle using her arthritic hands to dial all those numbers and talk to all those parents, wouldn't you? Aha! That kind of thinking is flawed.

The purpose of these notifications is to make the parent aware that Little Johnny wasn't at school today and was probably out snatching purses, breaking into houses and getting all cracked up. We got our call from the school computer (with the eerie "humanistic" voice) at about 8pm this evening.

Efficient and successful, yes? Well I ask you. Just WHO do you think answers the telephone in the evenings in every house in America that contains a teenager?

And you don't even actually have to own a teenager to answer that one.

I think old blue-haired Ms. Finklepickle deserves her job back.

In the Confessional

2006-03-23T01:15:00.000-05:00

Forgive me my Blog, for I have sinned against you yet again. I only get 6.72 free minutes to myself a day and instead of spending them here with you, staying out of trouble, I have been lured into the land of evil. Yes, once again I have gone to the dark-side that is eBay.

I know that I am jeopardizing my sanity, not to mention my bank account. And yes, I do feel guilty knowing that my trusting family thinks I am up here working on you and reading all of our blog friends. I am just having difficulty stopping myself this time. Oh sure, before the baby I was selling more than I was buying thus clearing the house of incredible amounts of clutter AND financing my latest eBay purchasing fetish. Is it my fault that now I only have a very small amount of spare time to spend on my beloved site? I can either choose to list and sell our crap or (shudder with glee) bid, Bid, BID and BUY! That's not even a choice.

Surely there will be some point when my bank account will no longer be able to finance these online flights of fancy - probably about in the next 3 minutes.

In the meantime, I've got to run. There's a lot containing hemp and Czech glass beads closing in 45 seconds. I don't want to get sniped! Nighty Nite!

Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

2006-03-05T23:55:00.000-05:00

OK, originally there was this big LONG post here about my "bitchy" attitude when dealing with contractors, new windows FINALLY installed, being careful about what you demand and when, my entire family being high, caulk fumes, and a whole lot of other stuff... but then I re-read it.

Let's start again next week, shall we?

On Star is Creepy

2006-03-01T01:30:00.000-05:00

It is "Big Brother" enough for me that OnStar can track your every movement, relay your location to other agencies and even unlock your doors. As creepy as that is, now your vehicle can email you through the OnStar system. Is this a service I would want? I honestly don't think I want my car talking to me. I can imagine it now:

"Hey Bimbo:

It's time we talked. Have you even glanced into my back seat lately? Are you aware that there are three moldy Pop-Tarts crammed down behind my seats? Go ahead; check it out if you dare. While you are at it, be sure to note the petrified French fries on the floorboard and the 3-month-old Snickers bar that's ground in the carpet. There are several papers and tests crammed up under the passenger seat that those rotten kids hope you never find. Are you really that stupid? It is rather binding and uncomfortable to me. And what genius gave the kids Cheetos? Did you not think about my seat backs? They're now stained orange thanks to your carelessness. It is humiliating the way you and those crappy kids treat me. I have seen mini-vans carrying quadruplet toddlers in better shape than me. You better get your act together or I swear I will overheat on a lonely stretch of road when it's just you and the kids with NO cell phone service. Then YOU can see how you like getting Snickers ground into you while being smeared with Cheetos. Don't make me do it.

Sincerely,

Your Overworked and Under-Appreciated Car

Greetings from the Petri Dish

2006-02-27T23:45:00.000-05:00

My friends, I can only hope that you will have patience for me. I know that I have not updated as usual. I have lots of excuses. Lame, though, I know. But they're legit! Bare with me! First, the Olympics have been on. If you know me, you know I am fascinated by the games. I don't miss many events. The past two weeks have been filled with Olympic glory and the agony of defeat. I am addicted to the drama. That's not the complete reason I haven't been posting, though it does bear some relevance.

The real truth behind my absence is the virulent virus that has rolled through my family. It never fails. One of my nasty children is bound to bring home some bug that the rest of us are not immune to. As the plague sweeps through the family, I not only have to take care of EVERYONE (including the baby who has no idea what is going on), but I end up with the scourge at least once, most of the time twice (I get it coming and going). I realize that I am not alone, but if you are still able to post clever blog updates, in between cleaning up after children with a stomach virus who are spewing out of both ends - WHILE you suffer from said evil virus yourself, then you are WAY more of a woman/man than me.

The Pediatrician said it was not the flu (we've all been vaccinated because of the baby's prematurity). Instead it is the rotavirus. She says it's going around like wild-fire and she's seen literally hundreds of cases. The rota virus. Wonderful. Do you know what this charmer is? Well, if you choose to do a little research I promise you that the transmission method alone will gross you out. After a rather frantic unscheduled spring wipe down/germ kill, I'm back. You may, though, wish to wash your hands after visiting. We have learned that the proper time to wash your hands is at LEAST 20 seconds, or roughly the time it takes to sing a verse of Old MacDonald's Farm. In true Catt family fashion, we don't sing about silly ducks, dogs, cows, chickens, etc. We try to liven things up a bit.

Does anyone know what sound a platypus makes?

Three Chances

2006-02-05T23:55:00.000-05:00

I'll give you three chances to guess where my Mother-In-Law is from. Ready ... set... go...

Off the Record

2006-02-02T00:40:00.000-05:00

Three years ago if you asked me what a Blog was I would have responded that it must be something that comes out of a child's nose. Now it seems that just about everyone has one.

The thing I find interesting though, is the fact that there are now so many blogs written by unlikely sources. One of my regular haunts (when I have the proverbial time to surf the Web) is Court TV. You see, I actually lived in NH during the Pamela Smart trial and endured day after day of live courtroom coverage. That was back in the day before Court TV existed. I guess it gets a bit addicting, thus the birth of the network. Anyhoo, I was surprised to surf over to their website tonight and lo and behold there is a blog covering a popular
current trial. I guess it was only a matter of time.

More interesting is the fact that one of the attorneys involved in the case actually has a blog as well. Publicity stunt? It doesn't appear to be. The archives go back to last spring. Of course the site tracker goes back to fall '04, so who knows? The point is, would you really want your defense attorney blogging about your case?

There is something so wrong about that.

Tongue Twister

2006-01-30T22:15:00.000-05:00

It all started out very innocently, as most things do. It seems I have inadvertently taught #2 Son to stick out his tongue. It cracks me up. Unlike my other children, the baby still loves to please me and my hysterical laughter seems to be the reaction he was hoping for. Long story short, #2 Son now seems to think sticking out one's tongue is the preferred greeting among "big people." Now when the kid spots a family member, he thrusts out his tongue, his eyes sparkle and he awaits the proper response. You can see him thinking, "Yes people, I am here all week." Fortunately for the baby, none of us disappoint him. The more we laugh, the more he sticks out the tongue. I'm not exactly sure how I am going to explain this one to the grandparents, though it will be far easier than explaining his older brother's use of the f-word at 2 and his sister marching around chanting the word "sex" at 18 months. Don't ask.

#1 Son is rather appalled by the whole thing (though do not think he isn't right in there encouraging the kid to stick his tongue out with the rest of us). #1 has scolded me saying, "Mom, he's a baby, not a pet. Teaching him to do tricks is just WRONG."

Who the heck is he kidding? This is the same kid who helped me teach his baby sister "pitiful face." We would say, "Little One, make pitiful face," and she would strike the most exaggerated pitiful pout you have ever seen. It cracked us up. In fact, I set the precedent with #1 and his "Johnny Jumper." A butt sling strapped to bungee cord, suspended in an archway containing an active baby combined with dance music. If there is a better prescription for parental entertainment, I don't know what it is.

The point is that parents should be entitled to teach their offspring "tricks." What else do we have to live for?

I Could Be a Contenda!

2006-01-24T23:15:00.000-05:00

Since giving birth to the Milk Leech, I watch a LOT more television. My friends, have you seen "Rollergirls" on A&E? I am addicted! I have gotten so into Texas Roller Derby that I know all the stars, most of their real names, and the teams they play for. I am such a big fan that I have even pre-ordered the DVD of this season.

I SO could be a Roller Derby queen!! I feel that my life experience makes me the perfect candidate for the job. I may be old, but I have got the skills!

I am Fast: My entire life as a mother involves running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I pack in 28 hours in a 24-hour day. If I can catch a wayward toddler hell bent on escape, I can certainly lap the pack as a Jammer.

I have Attitude: Just ask that snot nosed grocery store clerk who asked me if I qualified for the "Senior Citizen" discount last Tuesday.

I have Team Spirit: I am still convinced that we can "get it together" and become organized, if we just all pull together as a family. In reality, I guess we're lucky that we haven't actually misplaced one of the children. That counts for something, right?

I am Tough: I have given birth to 3 children and lived to tell about it. I deal with poop, snot and vomit with barely a shrug of a shoulder. I think the ratty graying hair, dry skin, and permanent facial twitch only add to my personality.

I have Stage Presence: See the ratty hair and facial twitch referenced above. My appearance only serves to make me look like an escapee from a mental home. It could be part of my shtick.

I am Tenacious: I have successfully potty-trained two children. OK, so I didn't actively do that much, but at least they are not going to college in diapers. Another example is my optimistic attempt at gardening each and every spring.

I am Mean: Just ask anyone in my family that leaves their underwear on the floor or smart mouths me. Apparently I have a "look" that makes their hair stand on end.

In fact, I am downright Full of Rage at times: You don't drive 39 miles one way through rush hour traffic at least 3 days a week to soccer practice and not get a little testy.

I am telling you my friends, I could be famous! My family is convinced that I am obviously not getting out of the house as much as I need to. Whatever. They're just worried that I might up and leave them to become famous in the TXRD. How silly is that? Of course I would take them with me. Yeah...sure I would.

Trials and Tribulations

2006-01-19T23:15:00.000-05:00

We are going through a terrible ordeal here this week. It is something that I knew we would have to deal with some day, but I was hoping it would be later rather than sooner. Unfortunately it happened this weekend. I don't know how we are going to overcome this trial, but I do have faith that we will...somehow.

My friends, this week my teenager and his significant other broke up. You should know that this relationship was SERIOUS. Really. It lasted almost two months.

As always, I strive to impart my measly knowledge to you in the slight chance that it might come in handy to you one day. Tonight I give you: "How to Survive Your Teenager's First Major Break Up"

1) Under NO circumstances should you say things like, "you're only 14," "you'll have MANY relationships in your life," and "you're too young to know what real love is." While you and I may know that is true, it doesn't negate your teenager's feelings now. He hurts. You will suffer. Just grin and bear it.

2) Understand that his music will get louder and angrier than usual. Do NOT, under any circumstances, attempt to decipher the lyrics of his new favorites. If you hope to continue to sleep at night, you will trust me on this one.

3) Answer your own phone for a few days, as he will be too depressed to "deal with it." You have probably forgotten how to do this as it has been so long since you have attempted it. Follow my lead: pick it up and say "hello." Of course, as usual, it will not be for you. It will be one of his many girl friends calling to commiserate.

4) Remove any reminders of the ex from your home. This may include certain food items that were the ex's favorite. Unfortunately this may cause a big problem if the ex actually liked your teenager's younger sibling.

5) Do not encourage him to seek out another relationship. Nothing and no one will be as good as his "one true love." How dare you even think he could love another? Resist this urge until he finds a new love interest. Hang in there. It might take as long as 48 or 49 hours.

6) Do not sweat his declarations of "I'm not hungry" and "If I eat I will throw up." He is not turning anorexic. He is still a teenage boy and thus will still eat you out of house and home.

7) Do not freak out when you find him lying on his bed, staring into space, in total darkness because he has covered his windows. He is not in a coma. Remind him of him of his chores. It is better to have him angry with you than forgetting to breathe.

8) Do not roll your eyes and sigh when you hear him tell a story about his ex for the 7,346th time. The sound of his ex's name may make your teeth numb, but he does not comprehend your level of exasperation.

AND MOST IMPORTANT OF ALL:

9) Try to keep a straight face when reading his poetry. It will be really sappy and really bad. Really, REALLY bad. And Really SAPPY. REALLY.

Reverse Decorating

2006-01-04T22:30:00.000-05:00

And so it begins - the after holiday clean up. I don not know why I even bother. Every year it is the same. Behold last year's fiasco:

Week 1 After New Year's Day - I went out and bought two new storage boxes to maximize organization. My dream is to some day have all of our holiday crap beautifully and safely stored in matching red and green plastic boxes. Don't laugh, it could happen.

Week Two After New Year's Day - I decided to retrieve the odd assortment of broken-down cardboard boxes from the attic that we normally use to store the Christmas crap. Luckily I remembered that I bought a couple of plastic storage boxes on sale last year. I spent the rest of the week tripping over the old cardboard boxes while searching for the "new" plastic ones from last year. I assured myself that they would contribute immensely to my quest for organization, especially when combined with my latest purchases.

Week Three After New Year's Day - It was deja vu all over again as I relived Week Two. I was certain that I was just minutes away from finding those stupid plastic boxes from last year. Surely all of this organization will make decorating for the holidays a snap in future years. I decided the aggravation I was enduring was worth it. Unfortunately I had now misplaced the most recently purchased boxes.

Week Four After New Year's Day - It was crunch time as I realized that I could not put it off any longer. The real tree in the den had morphed into a brown twig that was threatening to erupt into a flaming inferno at the smallest provocation. Taking this fire hazard down would not have been such a big deal were it not for the 872 heirloom ornaments that had to be removed (not to mention the lights). It sure would have been helpful if I could have found those stupid plastic boxes. I was briefly encouraged when I found one of the lids. I was then detoured by the renewed search for the stupid storage boxes.

Week Five After NYD - I had finally given up finding the plastic boxes. I decided that surely I would find them by the time I take down the fake tree in the living room. In the meantime, I loaded the rest of the "heirloom" ornaments into spare cardboard boxes, shoeboxes and plastic bags. I could have cared less that most of the cardboard boxes were covered by pieces of poster board and duct tape.

Week Six After NYD - That stupid tree in the living room was still up. I contemplated making it a "holiday" tree by changing the decorations for each holiday. I actually shopped for St. Patty's Day ornaments before I came to my senses. Even *I* know that the dust that stupid tree would collect would be more than my family could tolerate. Wimps. Besides, how would I store all the additional ornaments?

Week Ten After NYD - I finally got the rest of the Holiday crap put away. Unfortunately I had to resort to cramming it all in plastic grocery bags. I was defeated yet again.

Last August - I finally found the stupid plastic red and green storage boxes that I had purchased the last two years. They were lost again by Halloween.

I've decided to not sweat it this year. I already know I will be defeated. I'll just wait until a few days before Easter and cram it all back into plastic grocery bags again. Right now I have more important things to do, like sit on the sofa with a big bag of cheese popcorn and watch The Biggest Loser special. Yummy.

From Ours To Yours Redux

2005-12-31T09:30:00.000-05:00

Happy Pooh Year!

Sorry - couldn't resist. From our family to yours, have a blessed, prosperous, healthy and very Merry New Year!

Auld Lang Sine

2005-12-29T00:15:00.000-05:00

No, this is not one of those posts reminiscent of the glorious year past. Quite frankly 2005 sucked and I am not sad to leave it in the dust. We endured several trials that I am happy to forget. Oh I know, we were immensely blessed with #2 Son, and I am eternally grateful for that. And yes, we are blessed in so many more ways - we're all healthy, we have a roof over our heads and despite the best efforts of my teenage son, we have food in the house. None of this though, is my point.

I miss smoking. I really, REALLY miss it. There I said it. I'm not talking about the preparation of food either. I'm referring to my former dirty, nasty, smelly, totally unhealthy cigarette habit.

I miss the stress relief it gave me. Many a Marlboro Ultra Light died to save the life of another - be it annoying telemarketers, unfriendly customer "service" representatives and even my own family. Is it any wonder I am so crabby?

I miss the solitude of my first morning smoke alone on the back deck. I no longer have that luxury of time to plan my day. Is it any wonder I am so unorganized?

I miss lighting up and calling a friend just to chitchat as I indulged in my addiction, especially if she was a smoker and was indulging as well. Is it any wonder that I have lost touch with several friends?

I miss cranking up the radio in the car really loud so that I could hear it over the noise of the open window (where the ashes were shed). It gave me the opportunity (excuse) to sing equally as loud without feeling foolish. Is it any wonder I have road rage now?

Of course, there are things I do not miss. I don't miss scrounging for $3.50 every stinking day to pay for my weakness. Speaking of stinking, I don't miss that at all. I never really noticed the smell before. To think, I thought I was hiding it from people. I don't miss trying to find a place to smoke in an increasingly non-smoking world. I am happy that my kids are happy. They have been after me for years to quit. Sure, I'll be healthier and I am setting a good example for them. Whatever. I know my teeth will no longer be yellow, not to mention my fingernails. Maybe I can go without polish more often now. Hopefully I have not damaged my skin so much that my face resembles a 75-year-old coal miner when I'm 45.

That does not mean I don't miss it, though. It has been months since I quit. I always told people that I was going to walk away from my beloved smokes "when I was ready." Then I got pregnant, and I had to. A part of me feels like I was railroaded. I was forced to give up a crutch that I was not yet ready to let go of. I still DREAM about smoking. Seriously. Of course in my dreams, I feel a great deal of shame for succumbing to my demon, but I also feel a bit of a thrill for indulging in the forbidden.

Do not worry that I will fall off the wagon. The Good Lord, Karma, Fate, or whatever you believe in is looking out for me, despite my own stupidity. Recently I obtained the forbidden fruit. I didn't buy the pack of course. Everyone knows that if you buy a pack of cigarettes yourself you can no longer claim to have quit. Duh! Anyway, I smoked one. Yesiree, I savored that baby. I drew the sweet nectar deep into my lungs over and over. I may have even blown smoke rings of joy. About 3/4 of the way through the smokage I started feeling a little shaky. No bother - I chalked it up to withdrawal. It took about 5 minutes after my return to sin for my body to experience hot flashes like I was wallowing in the depths of hell, which in turn produced buckets of sweat. I ignored the hot flash, attributing it to an insanely early menopause, but then my head began revolving, eventually reaching a full 100 mile an hour spin. No longer than 10 minutes after I extinguished my former love, I was sprinting for the porcelain God/Goddess. I was VIOLENTLY ill. It was like I was teleported back to my twenties after a few too many bottles of Boones Farm and Bacardi 151 shots. Draped over the edge of the toilet watching my dinner return I could not help thinking that I had made a mistake. True I had probably used too much oregano in the casserole, but more importantly I realized that perhaps I had finally crossed that deep divide - I had passed the point of no return and had finally become a "non-smoker", not that I was happy about it or anything.

Never one to trust fate, I attempted to light up one last time a few days ago. Instantly I felt the frightening "heat" and an echo of nausea. I stomped the cigarette out while I was ahead. As much as I enjoyed smoking, the new consequences were not worth it. Damnit.

I should be thrilled that my body (and a higher power) is protecting me from self-destruction. Instead, I miss smoking. I really REALLY miss it.

It's a good thing I still drink. Otherwise I'd be perfect.

From Ours to Yours

2005-12-15T23:50:00.000-05:00

If you've been a reader here for any length of time (like a day), you know that I am "organizationally challenged." Well my friends, are you sitting down? I hope so because believe it or not, I have not only addressed ALL of my holiday cards, but I have also mailed them - with stamps and everything! And it is not even January!

It is a wonder that I actually completed this task. You see, this year I was DETERMINED to send out "picture cards" like all my sickeningly organized cousins and siblings do. I knew that with a new baby all the old farts in the family would be expecting it - "Catt just had a baby, wouldn't you think she'd at least send us a picture at Christmas?" *sigh*

My friends I ask you...do you have ANY idea how difficult it is to take a picture of 3 children (one of whom is a baby who recently started to smile)? I have never in my life wanted to beat my head against a brick wall more. We took literally 63 pictures of the kids, all dressed up in coordinating outfits (let us not even discuss the fight that preceeded that) in front of the Christmas tree. We got some gorgeous shots of each of them - unfortunately not in the same picture. We finally settled on the "least bad" of the group. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was when my MIL said, "why does the baby look so unhappy? Couldn't you have gotten him to smile?" Well gee, I don't know. You tell me. Here are some of the VERY BEST shots that didn't make the final cut:

This mug shot is available in your local post office. Beware the "Toys R Us Gang."

After several dismal shots, we had a wardrobe malfunction. It was embarassing, but luckily C. fixed it and we soldiered on.

No one is having fun and the boys are beyond bored. Honestly, I thought this was was funny and almost used it for our cards. I regret the decision not to use it.

*sigh* Why bother? Just shoot me.

No, the above is not the image we actually used. Our winner was a pretty decent shot of the two oldest ones. The baby looks constipated, but I deceided to go with it anyway. You see, I am smart enough to pick my battles. The oldest two can drive me to a migrane now. In contrast, the baby won't be able to complain about this for years. Welcome to the family Little One.

Weekend Shorts

2005-12-05T12:50:00.000-05:00

In the grocery store Friday my son said, "Hey Mom, since you have to get up early tomorrow for an appointment, can you make us breakfast like a good Mom? I mean...uh...that didn't sound good. I meant like one of those Mom's on TV?"

Saturday my wonderful Hubby scrubbed the kitchen floor. Within an hour that same floor was covered with blue Kool-Aid and dog pee. And people wonder why I drink.

Yesterday I learned that in some cultures prisoners of war are tortured by being subjected to endless loud thumping music, sleep deprivation and the sounds of a screaming baby. I consider that a typical day.

And So It Begins

2005-11-30T23:00:00.000-05:00

Can you believe that I received two, count them TWO, Christmas cards in the mail today? For cryin' out loud, it is not even December! This incident reminded me of the pledge I made last year to actually decorate my house, complete my shopping AND mail out my holiday cards all BEFORE December 24th. I realize that I am setting the bar awfully high, but as they say, "shoot for the moon and even if you miss, you’ll still end up in the stars" or some crap like that.

Of course I first cursed the two card senders for their organization skills. One of them even had the audacity to make their card BY HAND! Obviously this was a blatant attempt to rub my nose in past failures. This aunt just can't seem to get over my "Christmas themed Happy New Year" cards that arrived in March that one year. What a witch. Anyway, I decided that there was no better time than the present to begin my quest for holiday perfection.

I went to dig out my address book so that I could start making my holiday card list. When I finally found the stupid thing I noticed how out of date it is. After correcting a few addresses and adding in a couple of new ones from the scraps of paper and torn return address labels I had stuck in it, my hand cramped. There is a LOT more work needed to update this thing than I realized. I decided to pace myself and work on it later.

Perhaps it would be more fulfilling to work on the house. My show-off neighbor had her house lit up on Thanksgiving night. Certainly we will be able to get our lights up before the 24th this year if we start now. I set out to drag the boxes of lights out of the attic. Um, have you seen my attic? How the heck can I be expected to find anything in there? I'll just wait until this weekend when we can all sort out the mess as a family. C. and the kids just LOVE projects like this. No, really they do, sort of, OK not really, but tough cookies. It needs to be done and I cannot do it myself.

You would think that I was discouraged, but no. I still have shopping to do. I am not a big fan of lines and the crowds you find in the mall this time of year, so I prefer to make most of my purchases online. In years past I have ended up frantically trying to calculate shipping time to assure that the gift in question will actually arrive before the big day. Not this year, my friends! I'll just start my shopping IN NOVEMBER (never mind that this was the last day of the month) and skip all the hassle and stress of previous years. Upon logging on, I followed my normal routine. I checked my email, read my local newspaper online, checked out a few of my usual favorite websites, then decided to check here for comments. Of course I then had to surf the blogs of commenters, hit the sites on my blogroll and well the next thing I knew the baby was up from his nap, the kids were home from school, I had to make dinner, C. got home, we ate, the baby was hungry, and on and on and on. *sigh*

So today was a bust, but heck it is still NOVEMBER! I am not some super organized Holiday Nazi. I still have about 24 days. That is certainly plenty of time.

Little Turkey

2005-11-24T19:30:00.000-05:00

This is what happens when you combine an 11 year-old-sister, a Grandma who is a pre-school teacher by day and an innocent baby. Yes, those are turkey place cards made out of pine cones and pipe cleaners in the last picture. I'd almost feel sorry for him if it wasn't so darned funny.

Hope everyone had a JOYOUS day!

Can You Keep a Secret?

2005-11-24T00:05:00.000-05:00

I love to cook. Seriously, I really do. Thus, I am somewhat ashamed to admit that in all these years I have never produced a Thanksgiving turkey all by my lonesome. Forgive me Martha Stewart for I have sinned.

We celebrate the holiday here at our house every year. I like it that way for a couple of reasons. First, my house actually gets cleaned. Well, the downstairs gets cleaned. OK OK, the downstairs crap gets hidden in the upstairs closets. Whatever, it at least looks better than usual. I guess the threat of company kicks my normally carefree family into high gear. Of course it could also be my hysterical screaming, but I digress.

The second reason I love having the holiday here is because the rest of the family feels sorry for me. They actually believe that I have spent the week prior frantically making the house presentable and then work my fingers to the bone preparing this huge feast for the entire family. This false perception really works for me. You see, they bring things - food things. Pies and side dishes, appetizers galore. I think they don't realize what the others bring. I swear I do less cooking and get more credit on Thanksgiving than at any other time of the year. I LOVE this racket!

The best part of it is the turkey thing. My Mother always comes over early in the morning to "help me" get the bird into the oven. Don't get me wrong, I actually DO cook it. I make the herb butter and even spread it under the skin. My basting skills rival Emeril. What I do NOT do is stick my hand in the nasty thing to take out the guts, or the giblets or whatever that crap is called. In the words of The Little One, EEeeewww! I always make sure I am busy making something or at least that I LOOK busy when it comes time to *gulp* "wash the bird." It never fails, my Mom will say, "Hon, we really need to get the bird in the oven soon. Why don't I get it washed to save you some time?" I love that woman.

We always invite friends, especially if they do not have family nearby. There have been some years that my living and dining rooms have looked like a restaurant with all the card tables and chairs strewn about. To compensate, my Mother-In-Law began bringing a second turkey a few years ago. It has now become a tradition. This year we're only expecting 12 adults. My Sis-In-Law is bringing a ham to go with the MIL's turkey. Certainly, we don't need another bird. That would be excessive. It has nothing to do with the fact that my Mother informed me that she would be late to the house this year. *Ahem*

My friends, they bought the "overabundance of food" excuse. I am off the hook for another year. And there you have it. I am a Thanksgiving fraud and a sham. Let's keep this just between us, shall we?

(PS - To those of you celebrating this holiday, have a fantastic day! For those of you that do not, have a fantastic day as well! Let us all remember to be thankful for our blessings throughout the year, no matter what day it is.)

I Don't Need No Stinkin' Organization

2005-11-22T23:30:00.000-05:00

I saw the coolest thing the other day on television called the Purse Organizer. This miracle of modern technology is a long strip of cloth that has many various sized pockets. The idea is that you keep your junk in the pockets and when you want to change purses, you simply roll it up and drop it into the new purse. I was enthralled! Finally a product that could bring some much needed organization into my life!

Honestly, purse changing is really not that much of an issue for me. If it holds all my junk, then it works for me until it wears out. HOWEVER, I am definitely organizationally challenged. I was giddy just thinking of all the time this wonderful invention is going to save me! My next move was to take an inventory of the contents of my purse in anticipation of my future streamlined life. Here is what I found:

Wallet/Checkbook Combo - It is completely stuffed to the gills and the seams are splitting. I am not positive, but I believe I bought it back when Clinton was President.

Sunglasses - I paid $1 for this pair about 7 years ago. Really. If I pay more than $5 for a pair of shades, I lose them. The speed with which my sunglasses are lost corresponds with their cost.

My "Main" Key Chain - Consisting of 8 keychains (Several of which were either made by my children or given to me as gifts from my children over the years), a frequent shopper card key-fob from a store I haven't frequented in about 5 years, a preferred customer card from a sports store that no longer exists, a preferred customer card from a jewelry store that I have made one purchase from - 3 years ago, my library card (conveniently in key-fob form), and two picture key tags of my kids from 2002. Oh yeah, and there are TWO keys on it as well: one for my house and one for my car, which I no longer drive very often.

A Second Key Chain - This one consists of a church key (that's a beer opener for those who are not familiar) and three keys: one to the SUVee action jeep (that I am driving now), one to the house that is so warped I cannot make it work and one to my in-law's house (I think), and the same two picture key tags of the kids from 2002.

An Empty Book of Checks - two website addresses are written on it that were found in a magazine at a doctor’s office for later surfing.

A Used Band-Aid

My Cell Phone - with a dead battery.

2 Melted Jolly Ranchers

A Drug Insert - From a medication I have never taken in my life.

One and a Half Packages of Spree Candy - Had I realized I had these, they would have been eaten by now.

2 Tubes of Lipstick - One the same color as my lips and one that makes me look like a streetwalker. I don't wear either of them.

3 Lip Balms - all different brands.

Cuticle Cream - Most of the product has melted away. That probably explains the greasy wetness at the bottom of my bag. I hope.

2 Highlighters - Both have gone dry.

7 Ink Pens - 3 of which actually work.

4 Crayons - My kids haven't colored in years.

4 Expired Gift Cards - None of which were given to me originally.

4 Appointment Reminder Cards - All for appointments last Spring.

Thirty-Three Pennies

7 Expired Coupons

3 Grocery Store Receipts - from June.

Something tells me that even the Purse Organizer won't help me.

Searches That Found My Blog - Teenager Edition

2005-11-16T23:45:00.000-05:00

Regular readers might remember that in the past, I have posted some interesting searches that have returned this blog. Truth be told, I actually keep a list because some of these searches really crack me up, and sometimes they shock me. Tonight I happened to be reading through the list and noticed a theme in several of my favorites. My friends, I give you the Teenager Edition of crazy searches that have found my blog and my responses to those poor misguided searchers - based on my experience, of course. Enjoy.

site:diaryland.com OR site:livejournal.com OR site:xanga.com OR site:blogspot.com "5'9" OR "5'10" OR "5'11" growing OR grown OR grew OR growth OR spurt height OR tall
Dear Mom: I feel your pain as #1 Son is now topping 6 feet at 14 years old. I cannot afford to keep him in clothes, much less food. Demand reparations when your kid becomes a successful adult. You are entitled.

What does it mean when my ears ring? Dear Mom & Dad: It means you have a teenager and he has a stereo. Don't even bother trying to drown him out with your own music. You cannot win. Instead, you might want to move and not tell him where you are going.

What can you buy with $37.03 for a teenager? Dear Parent: Absolutely nothing. Money is not the issue. What matters is that you picked it out. Save yourself the hassle and just give the kid the cash.

Teenager teacher crying Dear Educator: You are a Saint and you are not alone. I am sure it is perfectly normal for the teachers of teenagers to cry on a regular basis, probably daily. Hang in there and be thankful you are not their parent.

What does it mean when your left eye jumps? Dear Jumpy: It means you have children, most probably a teenager. Drink - it works for me.

We want a baby. Dear Parents-to-be: Can I interest you in an 11 or a 14 year old? They're hardly used. I guarantee they will make you rethink that "baby thing." Because I am not a total sadist, you can return them after you have put them through college.

What you can do with two kids,1 teenager and any part of the house to make money? Dear Entrepreneur-wanna-be: You found MY blog with that search?? Did you find the answer? WHERE! Tell me damn it!

What does a teenager want for Christmas? Dear Santa: Money. Actually they want the house without parents so that they can stay up all night, sleep all day, play their stereos so loud that their ears bleed and eat junk food until they barf.

What does grey hair mean? Dear Delusional: You have teens. The older they are, the more you spend on hair coloring.

Gratuitous Weekend Picture

2005-11-13T23:10:00.000-05:00

Just because I felt like it, here is a picture of the Milk Leech. I promise, dear friends, that I won't bombard you with baby pictures. You know that's not my style. I just thought I'd show you how I've been spending most of my time lately. Before you ask, NO he is not nursing, I have not grown a boob on my neck. He's asleep, which is the other thing he does really well.

ED NOTE: For those few readers who know me in person, I did not cut my hair off. It's just easier these days to pile it on top of my head.

Sorry, Wrong Number

2005-11-11T23:30:00.000-05:00

What is it with kids these days that feel they are entitled to a cell phone fresh out of the womb? Since when did it become a right, something that we are required to provide them for their survival? The number of teens and preteens with mobile phones is mind-boggling. I can name SEVERAL of my kids friends that carry their own phone. This, of course, makes my children covet these expensive little devices for their very own.

#1 Son has been bucking for his own phone since he was 11 or 12. Apparently I am severely depriving him by not allowing him to get connected. His arguments for having a cell have always amused me. The boy's reasoning ranges from the classical: "EVERYONE has one but me!" to the creative: "If I had my own cell phone you would always know where I am." That one is my favorite. As if I don't always know his whereabouts. Believe me he cannot escape me. I'm like the CIA.

His latest tactic is to point out how many of his friends are calling on their mobile phones. We hear lots of, "excuse me but I have to take this call from Johnny. He’s calling on HIS CELL PHONE." The kid has even resorted to programming his friends' cell numbers into our phone in a new "show Mom I'm the only kid in the world deprived of a cell phone" format. It looks something like this: Johnny CELL PHONE. My heart bleeds kid.

Secretly, I occasionally wonder if I am being too hard on him by sticking to the "no phone" rule. It is then that I will overhear one of his conversations with a connected friend. Most of the time they are either listening to music, or watching the same television show. Their only communication is the occasional, "that rocked!" etc. It is at that point that I feel sorry instead for the poor sap of a parent that actually fell for the "but you'll always know where I am" routine.

My kid will have a cell phone some day. That will be the day he has a job to pay for it. In the meantime, he can feel free to call Child Protective Services to report the abuse he is suffering. I will welcome their visit. The Social Workers and I will sit in #1 Son's room and surf the web on his computer or maybe play a quick Play Station game. If we're lucky, perhaps one of #1 Son's friends will call on his cell phone so we can check out the latest "My Chemical Romance" album.