Saturday, January 30, 2010
180 Miles to Milton and Back
O.....M......G. Traveling with kids is never what I would describe as "fun", but certainly some trips are easier than others. Today's trip would fall into the "other" category. My own three children and a friend of the 9 year old.....Steph and myself.....and a dog. You would think it would be a smooth trip considering we are equipped with 4 Nintendo DSs, a DVD in the player, 4 iPods and 6 imaginative brains. Not so. Still the classic "are we there yet" gets repeated again and again as we drive the same route that we have traveled since the children have been born. Some time ago Steph started breaking the trip up into TV show episodes....For example the entire trip takes two Phineas and Ferbs and one Backyardigans. Today she tried a new approach...she pointed out landmarks along the way and gave them an idea of how much longer we had until we reached our destination. We won't know until next time if that worked, but it killed some time anyway. And, what was I doing to distract myself from the carsickness that often overtakes me on long journeys? I was typing this blog...well, on the end of the trip home anyway. Do you wonder how I manage to type online while a passenger in a car doing 70 mph down Route 283? Well, it is a combination of things. Obviously it starts with my laptop. Then to acquire an internet connection I have a nifty system called "tethering". To make it simple to understand I attach my Blackberry to a USB cable and plug it into my computer. Then I open the tethering program on both devices and VIOLA...the Internet! And lastly, to keep my poor overused laptop charged I purchased a handy dandy device at Wal-Mart that keeps ALL my techieware fully charged and ready to use. It is really a MUST-HAVE for everyone...even if you aren't technology obsessed. I promise to make my next post much more entertaining, but for now I am off to transfer all my stuff onto the new 500 GB hard drive I just installed on my laptop!! WOOT!!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
My first post in almost 2 years...
I am a 33 year old divorced mother of 3...I live in a 3 bedroom townhouse...It has 2 bathrooms (Thank you, Baby Jesus). In our little home we have 2 TVs, 2 DVD players, 3 Canon cameras, 3 photo printers, a desktop computer, 2 laptops, 2 iPod Touches, 1 Blackberry, 1 Wii and 3 Nintendo DSs...My car has GPS, a DVD player and also satellite radio thanks to my iPod and a Skydock....the list goes on.......and on.......and on...........Hence the name of the blog. (Did I mention my 6 year old has an imaginary friend....his name is "Digital"...go figure).
Sometimes I amazed that I have all this “stuff”....that I am, by most people's definition, a “techie”....who knew. Two years ago I didn't own a laptop, my camera was crappy, my portable music choices included only a portable CD player or the songs inside my own head and I vowed my family would remain video game free for years to come....so WHAT happened? If you figure it out, let me know.
What else can I tell you about myself? I am a fairly upbeat person who tends (as you will see here) to use sarcasm as a coping mechanism....it works. Unfortunately, my 9 year old uses the same mechanicism. The 6 year old is a pretty cool kid...except he lives in his own world where every minute he is conscious must be used to fight off “video game enemies” complete with his own sound effects...ugh. And then there is Cha...she is 4. Hard to believe she is only 4....I swear it feels a little more like 14. She should have a blog of her own...her antics could write a book. Someday they may. Who knows.....it would have to be an online book...to keep with the digital theme.
What else....OH, right....I work....well, sort of. I have JOB, but it really feels more like play....except when I am beyond a deadline.....like I am now.....and should be working instead of blogging while sitting in the carpool line. I guess I didn't mention I am a photographer....I guess professionally because sometimes people give me money for it, but truthfully, I kind of feel like a thief. Here is the website....you can judge... Most of the family gallery is me....and all the newborn and maternity stuff. The wedding stuff is mostly split between me and my co-workers...unless it is really really good and then I will accept credit for it.
Ok, I feel like I am boring you now......let me see if there is anything else that you might want to know before I sign off....I love my new Coach purse. There's something. Seriously. I love this thing in an unnatural way. It brings me total happiness. I don't consider myself materialistic...seriously...even with the above collection of techie crap (I could live without everything except my Blackberry). But this bag.......wow. I didn't intend to buy it....and I REALLY didn't intend to buy the matching wallet.....but......well.......I was having a really bad night. I met the BFF for a nice Mexican dinner. Apparently the OMG-I-am-about-to-go-postal look in my eye scared her because she offered to take my kids home so I could have some alone time. I am not much of a “drink alone” kinda gal so there was really only one choice of where to go.........the Coach Outlet to smell the purses. If you haven't done this, I highly recommend it. Anyway, as I was walking around putting my nose on one leather bag after another I spotted it..........a pink leather handbag with shiny silver buckles. I think I heard angels sing....well, maybe not, but it was a really great moment. Gone were all homicidal thoughts.......all I could think about was the pink purse before me................in another customer's hand.....and it was the LAST one. I tried not to look to anxious as I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her waiting for her to decide she didn't want the beautiful-meant-to-be-on-my-shoulder tote....I couldn't imagine why she would put it back, but after an eternity, she placed it back on the shelf. I knew I wasn't going to buy it....even at the HEAVILY discounted price..did I say HEAVILY? (That kind of looks like HEAVENLY, doesn't it...hmm). Anyway, I wasn't going to make this purchase until Amy, the chipper salegirl said the magic words (to another customer...I avoid the sales women because I am sometimes easily persuaded)...”unpublished sale.......20% of your total order”.....I grabbed the wallet, paid for both and never looked back......then I sat in the car and smelled my new bag for about 15 minutes before heading home. Here is a picture of the bag....
.......now you understand, don't you?
Sometimes I amazed that I have all this “stuff”....that I am, by most people's definition, a “techie”....who knew. Two years ago I didn't own a laptop, my camera was crappy, my portable music choices included only a portable CD player or the songs inside my own head and I vowed my family would remain video game free for years to come....so WHAT happened? If you figure it out, let me know.
What else can I tell you about myself? I am a fairly upbeat person who tends (as you will see here) to use sarcasm as a coping mechanism....it works. Unfortunately, my 9 year old uses the same mechanicism. The 6 year old is a pretty cool kid...except he lives in his own world where every minute he is conscious must be used to fight off “video game enemies” complete with his own sound effects...ugh. And then there is Cha...she is 4. Hard to believe she is only 4....I swear it feels a little more like 14. She should have a blog of her own...her antics could write a book. Someday they may. Who knows.....it would have to be an online book...to keep with the digital theme.
What else....OH, right....I work....well, sort of. I have JOB, but it really feels more like play....except when I am beyond a deadline.....like I am now.....and should be working instead of blogging while sitting in the carpool line. I guess I didn't mention I am a photographer....I guess professionally because sometimes people give me money for it, but truthfully, I kind of feel like a thief. Here is the website....you can judge... Most of the family gallery is me....and all the newborn and maternity stuff. The wedding stuff is mostly split between me and my co-workers...unless it is really really good and then I will accept credit for it.
Ok, I feel like I am boring you now......let me see if there is anything else that you might want to know before I sign off....I love my new Coach purse. There's something. Seriously. I love this thing in an unnatural way. It brings me total happiness. I don't consider myself materialistic...seriously...even with the above collection of techie crap (I could live without everything except my Blackberry). But this bag.......wow. I didn't intend to buy it....and I REALLY didn't intend to buy the matching wallet.....but......well.......I was having a really bad night. I met the BFF for a nice Mexican dinner. Apparently the OMG-I-am-about-to-go-postal look in my eye scared her because she offered to take my kids home so I could have some alone time. I am not much of a “drink alone” kinda gal so there was really only one choice of where to go.........the Coach Outlet to smell the purses. If you haven't done this, I highly recommend it. Anyway, as I was walking around putting my nose on one leather bag after another I spotted it..........a pink leather handbag with shiny silver buckles. I think I heard angels sing....well, maybe not, but it was a really great moment. Gone were all homicidal thoughts.......all I could think about was the pink purse before me................in another customer's hand.....and it was the LAST one. I tried not to look to anxious as I stood shoulder-to-shoulder with her waiting for her to decide she didn't want the beautiful-meant-to-be-on-my-shoulder tote....I couldn't imagine why she would put it back, but after an eternity, she placed it back on the shelf. I knew I wasn't going to buy it....even at the HEAVILY discounted price..did I say HEAVILY? (That kind of looks like HEAVENLY, doesn't it...hmm). Anyway, I wasn't going to make this purchase until Amy, the chipper salegirl said the magic words (to another customer...I avoid the sales women because I am sometimes easily persuaded)...”unpublished sale.......20% of your total order”.....I grabbed the wallet, paid for both and never looked back......then I sat in the car and smelled my new bag for about 15 minutes before heading home. Here is a picture of the bag....
.......now you understand, don't you?
How our children mirror us (Posted 2008)
**Disclaimer: This entire post will reek of stereotypes and judgement...If you take issue with that, please wait for my next post. Also, please remember that these are MY views...my husband may have opposing views which he may air on HIS blog (if he ever develops one) or in my comments section. And, as always, I must make sure everyone knows that I love my family...ALL OF THEM, but sometimes I like one - and they all take their turn being that one - more (or less) than the others.
Boy, long disclaimer this time...Ok, I am finding that as my son gets older (he just turned 5 last week) that he is turning into quite a little man. I know this because his behavior is resembling my husband's more and more with each passing day. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE LOVE both my husband and my son, but they they occasionally both drive me nutso (come on, you all feel this way about your family...and for those of you who deny it, you are full of mud)...And I am noticing that the ways in which they are driving me nutso are becoming more and more alike all the time.
I will give you an example of what I mean. Here is a frequent conversation between my husband and I:
Me: HONEY, can you grab my black flip flops off of the floor of my closet?
Him: What?? (the selective hearing will be addressed later in the post)
Me: MY BLACK FLIP FLOPS
Him: Yeah, what about them?
ME: CAN YOU GRAB THEM?
Him: Where are they?
Me: ON THE FLOOR OF MY CLOSET
(By this time I could have had them, put them on and arrived at my destination)
Him: Ok
**MANY minutes pass**
Him (walking down the steps carrying a pair of brown shoes): These?
Me (huffy): NOOOOOOOO...forget it...I will get them
Him: Honey, you know I am no good at looking for things
My beloved and I have had this discussion many times before. His argument is always the same "Why do you keep asking me to look for things that you KNOW I am incapable of finding"? My answer is usually something to the effect of "I guess I keep holding out hope that you may someday actually come through for me and find what I asked for". I TRULY believe that he sees the item I ask for and brings me something else simply because he HOPES I will get disgusted and never ask him to go and get me anything ever again. Logical, right? Wrong...I wasn't born yesterday. I will ask until the day I die.
Here is a recent conversation with my son...see if you can find the similarities:
Me: #2 (I don't actually call him that, but I don't want you to know his real name...LOL), please come and get your shorts on. They are here in the living room.
#2: What?
Me: PLEASE COME AND GET YOUR SHORTS ON IN THE LIVING ROOM!
#2: What about my shorts?
Me: COME AND GET THEM ON
#2: Where are they?
Me: IN THE LI-VI-NG RO-OM (I speak in syllables sometimes hoping that he might understand a little easier...hasn't worked yet, but it at least lets him know I am near my breaking point)
#2: OK! (Slllooowwwlllyyy comes down the steps)
Me: Get them on!
#2: Where are they?
Me: Right there on the floor
#2: I don't see them
Me: #2...they are right THERE...RIGHT THERE...UNDER YOUR LEFT FOOT!!!!!
#2: Well, I didn't see them (in a tone that may indicate that it was MY fault that he didn't see them!)
Ok, do you see a theme? Really. It is amazing. I have another...actually I have a ton more similarities between my husband and his mini-me, but I will limit myself just the one you have already read.
Now, I need to say a few positive things about the men in my life as not to offend them OR give anyone the idea that I am not totally in love with them both.
Things my husband has taught my son that I am actually HAPPY about:
***To pee in the potty standing up (and actually hit the bowl)
***To take his plate to the sink
***To treat me with nothing but respect (BIG points for Daddy here)
***A complete understand of all things Star Wars and superheroes (of which I have no interest)
***The E-A-G-L-E-S chant which helped him learn to spell him name by putting his own letters to the same tune (he STILL can't just SPELL his name...he must CHANT his name)
***To respect his sisters and all women...another gooder (as my friend, Kate would say)
***The lyrics to Kung-Fu Fighting...HILARIOUS...He actually taught the girls too...they do a little trio thing where even speech-delayed #3 throws in her well-times "Hy-AHs"
The list is truly endless, but I thought I would throw a few out there and let you know that my boys are GREAT (even though they can't see when looking for something or hear when I speak directly to them). I love them!
Then there is my firstborn. She is MY girl. She is witty and loves to dance. She has a great sense of humor. She can chat with absolutely ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (even superheroes and Staw Wars). She has some of the best communication skills of anyone I have ever met. And she looooooves babies.
Now, let me tell you a bit about me. I am sometimes said to be witty and I LOVE to dance. You can decide for yourself if you think this blog is amusing. I can chat with ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (except superheroes and Star Wars). I would say my ability to communicate is pretty stellar (I LOVE to talk). And I REALLY love babies. I have always loved babies. When I was younger I couldn't walk past a baby without making a scene. Mother's LOVED it.
I would entertain their little ones for as long as they would let me. As a mother myself I now understand what a blessing I was to those women. #1 is the same way. I can't tell you HOW many people tell me they wished they could have her because she is such a help. Well, they can't have her, but I have a few others at home that on some days I may be willing to part with! (Go back up and re-read the disclaimer if you are passing judgement!)
**Others have said that #1 and I both possess "diva-like" tendencies"...hence the shirts made for us for Christmas by a family member...Mine says DIVA and hers says PRINCESS***
A lot of people have also stated that they can see ME pouring out of my off-spring in this particular picture:
It is so strange to see yourself in someone else. I mean, #1 is SO much like me as a child. I was VERY VERY talkative...ummmm, yeah, not much different than now really. The other day I talked to my Hair Wizards mom(who hangs out in the shop) sooooo much while getting my hair done that she finally, rather abruptly, said "Well, I have to run to Wal-Mart for that thing"...I think I ran her off. Thank God it was only Hair Wizard's mom and not another customer. My talking may actually be bad for business. Maybe I need to address that lesson with #1...save her some trouble. Regardless, she is my girl...And unlike a lot of people who are very much alike, we get along just fine...but remember, she is 7...we can talk again when she is 13.
And then there is little #3. She has managed to pull personality traits from Dave and I both...but, really, she is most like my mother.
My mom is a coffee drinker. BIGTIME. And it isn't a caffeine addiction. She is addicted to DECAF coffee. Guess who else is addicted? Yep, #3. The child can't even begin her morning without coffee in the old sippy cup (Note: Here is a warning - If you put coffee in a sippy cup and it is too hot, the pressure makes it SPRAY out of the spill-proof spout...I know this from experience). I get A LOT of strange (read: judgemental) looks from people when they see #3 with her little Starbucks cup filled with java. Truly...it's ok.
Regardless, they are two peas in a pod, my mom and #3. Along with being a coffee addict, my mother is a clean-FREAK. I call her a freak (in the best possible sense of the word) because her level of cleanliness is quite foreign and a bit scary to me. Sometimes when I don't put things right where they belong I can still hear her voice from my childhood (ok, AND adulthood) saying "There is a place for everything and everything in its place". UGH! Anyway, it is a joke with my dad and Dave and I that we can always tell when we've done something wrong because my mom gives us the "Grandma huffy breath". She uses it frequently when we don't put our dishes in the dishwasher at her house...Huffy breath...SLAM the dish into the dishwasher...mutter...Huffy Breath. Well, thanks to my dear mother, a certain 2 year old now gives ME the huffy breath!! That's right...she gives HER OWN MOTHER the huffy breath!
Just the other night we were eating ice cream (the kids ate theirs in the kitchen, but being the "server" I ate mine in the living room while we watched a family show). I finished and sat my bowl on the floor below the couch (I was GOING to take it to the sink at the next commercial break...I SWEAR). No joke, the child looked over, gave me the Grandma huffy breath, slid off the couch, picked up the bowl, put it in the sink, climbed back on the couch, looked over and gave me the SECOND huffy breath! UNBELIEVABLE!!
Another example: My parents have chocolate brown carpet in their living room (something only people without small children could have). She vacuums almost obsessvely, but it is what happens IN-BETWEEN vacuuming sessions that is really key here. EVERY TIME (I kid you not) she passes through that room she bends over into this "stooped" position (bending mostly at the waist, hiney in the air) and brushes her hand across the carpet gathering "loose fuzzies" to throw away. There is a whole technique to it: Brush back and forth 4 times with a flat palm and the pick up with only the fingertips...take a little step...repeat. And, having witnessed this action so often my little obsessive-compulsive spawn now walks around and gathers "loose fuzzies" off of our carpet as well (she has her work cut out for her, let me tell you). She walks in the same hunched-over manner which causes me concern for her posture. It is really incredible how well she mimics the act.
But, finally, after two of her own children and her first two grandchildren my mother has FINALLY found someone who not only understands, but shares, her obsession. Way to go, Mom.
And, as I mentioned before, even though #3 closely resembles my mother, see if you can figure out how she most resembles me from the following pictures:
ME:
#3:
Yep, I am THAT mom (and apparently so was my own mother) who takes photos of her tantruming children.
So, as my children get older, I know that they will become more of their own person with their own ideas, but for now I take pride in knowing that they must be absorbing SOMETHING from their parents and grandparents even if it isn't what we say and do, but rather HOW we say and do it!
Boy, long disclaimer this time...Ok, I am finding that as my son gets older (he just turned 5 last week) that he is turning into quite a little man. I know this because his behavior is resembling my husband's more and more with each passing day. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE LOVE both my husband and my son, but they they occasionally both drive me nutso (come on, you all feel this way about your family...and for those of you who deny it, you are full of mud)...And I am noticing that the ways in which they are driving me nutso are becoming more and more alike all the time.
I will give you an example of what I mean. Here is a frequent conversation between my husband and I:
Me: HONEY, can you grab my black flip flops off of the floor of my closet?
Him: What?? (the selective hearing will be addressed later in the post)
Me: MY BLACK FLIP FLOPS
Him: Yeah, what about them?
ME: CAN YOU GRAB THEM?
Him: Where are they?
Me: ON THE FLOOR OF MY CLOSET
(By this time I could have had them, put them on and arrived at my destination)
Him: Ok
**MANY minutes pass**
Him (walking down the steps carrying a pair of brown shoes): These?
Me (huffy): NOOOOOOOO...forget it...I will get them
Him: Honey, you know I am no good at looking for things
My beloved and I have had this discussion many times before. His argument is always the same "Why do you keep asking me to look for things that you KNOW I am incapable of finding"? My answer is usually something to the effect of "I guess I keep holding out hope that you may someday actually come through for me and find what I asked for". I TRULY believe that he sees the item I ask for and brings me something else simply because he HOPES I will get disgusted and never ask him to go and get me anything ever again. Logical, right? Wrong...I wasn't born yesterday. I will ask until the day I die.
Here is a recent conversation with my son...see if you can find the similarities:
Me: #2 (I don't actually call him that, but I don't want you to know his real name...LOL), please come and get your shorts on. They are here in the living room.
#2: What?
Me: PLEASE COME AND GET YOUR SHORTS ON IN THE LIVING ROOM!
#2: What about my shorts?
Me: COME AND GET THEM ON
#2: Where are they?
Me: IN THE LI-VI-NG RO-OM (I speak in syllables sometimes hoping that he might understand a little easier...hasn't worked yet, but it at least lets him know I am near my breaking point)
#2: OK! (Slllooowwwlllyyy comes down the steps)
Me: Get them on!
#2: Where are they?
Me: Right there on the floor
#2: I don't see them
Me: #2...they are right THERE...RIGHT THERE...UNDER YOUR LEFT FOOT!!!!!
#2: Well, I didn't see them (in a tone that may indicate that it was MY fault that he didn't see them!)
Ok, do you see a theme? Really. It is amazing. I have another...actually I have a ton more similarities between my husband and his mini-me, but I will limit myself just the one you have already read.
Now, I need to say a few positive things about the men in my life as not to offend them OR give anyone the idea that I am not totally in love with them both.
Things my husband has taught my son that I am actually HAPPY about:
***To pee in the potty standing up (and actually hit the bowl)
***To take his plate to the sink
***To treat me with nothing but respect (BIG points for Daddy here)
***A complete understand of all things Star Wars and superheroes (of which I have no interest)
***The E-A-G-L-E-S chant which helped him learn to spell him name by putting his own letters to the same tune (he STILL can't just SPELL his name...he must CHANT his name)
***To respect his sisters and all women...another gooder (as my friend, Kate would say)
***The lyrics to Kung-Fu Fighting...HILARIOUS...He actually taught the girls too...they do a little trio thing where even speech-delayed #3 throws in her well-times "Hy-AHs"
The list is truly endless, but I thought I would throw a few out there and let you know that my boys are GREAT (even though they can't see when looking for something or hear when I speak directly to them). I love them!
Then there is my firstborn. She is MY girl. She is witty and loves to dance. She has a great sense of humor. She can chat with absolutely ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (even superheroes and Staw Wars). She has some of the best communication skills of anyone I have ever met. And she looooooves babies.
Now, let me tell you a bit about me. I am sometimes said to be witty and I LOVE to dance. You can decide for yourself if you think this blog is amusing. I can chat with ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (except superheroes and Star Wars). I would say my ability to communicate is pretty stellar (I LOVE to talk). And I REALLY love babies. I have always loved babies. When I was younger I couldn't walk past a baby without making a scene. Mother's LOVED it.
I would entertain their little ones for as long as they would let me. As a mother myself I now understand what a blessing I was to those women. #1 is the same way. I can't tell you HOW many people tell me they wished they could have her because she is such a help. Well, they can't have her, but I have a few others at home that on some days I may be willing to part with! (Go back up and re-read the disclaimer if you are passing judgement!)
**Others have said that #1 and I both possess "diva-like" tendencies"...hence the shirts made for us for Christmas by a family member...Mine says DIVA and hers says PRINCESS***
A lot of people have also stated that they can see ME pouring out of my off-spring in this particular picture:
It is so strange to see yourself in someone else. I mean, #1 is SO much like me as a child. I was VERY VERY talkative...ummmm, yeah, not much different than now really. The other day I talked to my Hair Wizards mom(who hangs out in the shop) sooooo much while getting my hair done that she finally, rather abruptly, said "Well, I have to run to Wal-Mart for that thing"...I think I ran her off. Thank God it was only Hair Wizard's mom and not another customer. My talking may actually be bad for business. Maybe I need to address that lesson with #1...save her some trouble. Regardless, she is my girl...And unlike a lot of people who are very much alike, we get along just fine...but remember, she is 7...we can talk again when she is 13.
And then there is little #3. She has managed to pull personality traits from Dave and I both...but, really, she is most like my mother.
My mom is a coffee drinker. BIGTIME. And it isn't a caffeine addiction. She is addicted to DECAF coffee. Guess who else is addicted? Yep, #3. The child can't even begin her morning without coffee in the old sippy cup (Note: Here is a warning - If you put coffee in a sippy cup and it is too hot, the pressure makes it SPRAY out of the spill-proof spout...I know this from experience). I get A LOT of strange (read: judgemental) looks from people when they see #3 with her little Starbucks cup filled with java. Truly...it's ok.
Regardless, they are two peas in a pod, my mom and #3. Along with being a coffee addict, my mother is a clean-FREAK. I call her a freak (in the best possible sense of the word) because her level of cleanliness is quite foreign and a bit scary to me. Sometimes when I don't put things right where they belong I can still hear her voice from my childhood (ok, AND adulthood) saying "There is a place for everything and everything in its place". UGH! Anyway, it is a joke with my dad and Dave and I that we can always tell when we've done something wrong because my mom gives us the "Grandma huffy breath". She uses it frequently when we don't put our dishes in the dishwasher at her house...Huffy breath...SLAM the dish into the dishwasher...mutter...Huffy Breath. Well, thanks to my dear mother, a certain 2 year old now gives ME the huffy breath!! That's right...she gives HER OWN MOTHER the huffy breath!
Just the other night we were eating ice cream (the kids ate theirs in the kitchen, but being the "server" I ate mine in the living room while we watched a family show). I finished and sat my bowl on the floor below the couch (I was GOING to take it to the sink at the next commercial break...I SWEAR). No joke, the child looked over, gave me the Grandma huffy breath, slid off the couch, picked up the bowl, put it in the sink, climbed back on the couch, looked over and gave me the SECOND huffy breath! UNBELIEVABLE!!
Another example: My parents have chocolate brown carpet in their living room (something only people without small children could have). She vacuums almost obsessvely, but it is what happens IN-BETWEEN vacuuming sessions that is really key here. EVERY TIME (I kid you not) she passes through that room she bends over into this "stooped" position (bending mostly at the waist, hiney in the air) and brushes her hand across the carpet gathering "loose fuzzies" to throw away. There is a whole technique to it: Brush back and forth 4 times with a flat palm and the pick up with only the fingertips...take a little step...repeat. And, having witnessed this action so often my little obsessive-compulsive spawn now walks around and gathers "loose fuzzies" off of our carpet as well (she has her work cut out for her, let me tell you). She walks in the same hunched-over manner which causes me concern for her posture. It is really incredible how well she mimics the act.
But, finally, after two of her own children and her first two grandchildren my mother has FINALLY found someone who not only understands, but shares, her obsession. Way to go, Mom.
And, as I mentioned before, even though #3 closely resembles my mother, see if you can figure out how she most resembles me from the following pictures:
ME:
#3:
Yep, I am THAT mom (and apparently so was my own mother) who takes photos of her tantruming children.
So, as my children get older, I know that they will become more of their own person with their own ideas, but for now I take pride in knowing that they must be absorbing SOMETHING from their parents and grandparents even if it isn't what we say and do, but rather HOW we say and do it!
The good old days (Posted 2008)
to use this platform to talk about the past for a moment.
I had a WONDERFUL childhood...picture the old Leave-It-To-Beaver kinda stuff (without the apron and I was a girl and the Beav was a boy, obviously). But the overall premise was the same...the all-American family of 4...I had an older brother named Mike. My mom stayed home with us while my dad headed out the door to work before dawn every morning swinging his lunchbox at his side. We ate dinner as a family and Mike played baseball where we all went and watched every game. I had pigtails and a bit of an attitude. Mike was happy-go-lucky and, even then, quick with a really cheesy joke. We played for hours outside together because we lived out in the country and mostly only had each other to to play with.
***THIS IS EXACTLY HOW #3 LOOKS AT #2...SHE WORSHIPS HIM...
Mike died 9 years ago of Cystic Fibrosis at the ripe old age of 27. Funny thing about him having that disease...CF is a pretty all-consuming life-altering illness...there are treatments, pills and various other daily rituals that someone afflicted with the disease does that others do not. But, the funny thing is that it DIDN'T consume us...At least that is not MY memory. My childhood memories consisted of vacations (we took one EVERY year even if it was a long weekend somewhere because we really didn't have the money to spend on anything elaborate). It's just what my parents did...and I am so grateful. My childhood memories consist of Sunday drives...VERY LONG Sunday drives in a car that we called the "Blue Goose"...inevitably we would get lost on one of my dad's "shortcuts" and when we finally reached civilization again my parents would buy us ice cream. My childhood memories consist of going to my uncle's cabin for wood cutting weekend...where else can you get a big group of people together to do hard work and still create amazingly fun memories taking walks, playing cards and fishing. My memories consist of growing up in a happy home on 14 acres of wooded land where we would go hiking and sledding. We would bike and pick berries off of bushes and eat them right away without washing them first (gasp). My memories are of my brother who I worshipped most of the time and drove crazy all of the time. But, he handled it pretty well...he either kicked my butt or just gave in to my relentless begging and allowed me to trail along. Mike and I were 5 years apart in age and quite different in personality (he was happy and I was a brat), but we were very close. I miss him a lot.
Why am I writing this right now, at 10:58 on a Thursday night, you may be asking? Well, I am currently in my hometown for a viewing tomorrow. The viewing is for a childhood friend, Shane. Shane was the son of one of my mom's best friends (they are still best friends) and one of my brother's cronies growing up. Shane was the solidly built round-faced boy who ALWAYS included me. He never, ever made me feel left out like some (most)of the other boys did. In truth, he was probably my first "crush" (if you can call it that at 8 years old). I have a scar on my forehead from a time when he and his sister and Mike and I were climbing a "mountain" (in truth it was probably a 6 foot ledge, but we thought we were impressive). I was the last one to go...right after Shane...a rock slipped out from under his foot and cut my head. Shane felt terrible because it was his foot that loosened the rock above. He was just a super-nice kid.
I haven't seen him in years...well, I ran into him now and again when we were both home, but not had a real TALK beyond the everyday pleasantries. But, nevertheless, I am mourning his death. My heart goes out to his mother who became a widow just 4 short years ago. I feel for his friends because they lost a great one. And I feel for his sister Renee...my friend from many, many years ago who is going through a time that I remember all too well. I hope at some point I can reach out to her and help, but for now I will go to the service and pay my respects...And keep the fond memories of my childhood...of Shane and Mike and Renee...close to my heart.
I had a WONDERFUL childhood...picture the old Leave-It-To-Beaver kinda stuff (without the apron and I was a girl and the Beav was a boy, obviously). But the overall premise was the same...the all-American family of 4...I had an older brother named Mike. My mom stayed home with us while my dad headed out the door to work before dawn every morning swinging his lunchbox at his side. We ate dinner as a family and Mike played baseball where we all went and watched every game. I had pigtails and a bit of an attitude. Mike was happy-go-lucky and, even then, quick with a really cheesy joke. We played for hours outside together because we lived out in the country and mostly only had each other to to play with.
***THIS IS EXACTLY HOW #3 LOOKS AT #2...SHE WORSHIPS HIM...
Mike died 9 years ago of Cystic Fibrosis at the ripe old age of 27. Funny thing about him having that disease...CF is a pretty all-consuming life-altering illness...there are treatments, pills and various other daily rituals that someone afflicted with the disease does that others do not. But, the funny thing is that it DIDN'T consume us...At least that is not MY memory. My childhood memories consisted of vacations (we took one EVERY year even if it was a long weekend somewhere because we really didn't have the money to spend on anything elaborate). It's just what my parents did...and I am so grateful. My childhood memories consist of Sunday drives...VERY LONG Sunday drives in a car that we called the "Blue Goose"...inevitably we would get lost on one of my dad's "shortcuts" and when we finally reached civilization again my parents would buy us ice cream. My childhood memories consist of going to my uncle's cabin for wood cutting weekend...where else can you get a big group of people together to do hard work and still create amazingly fun memories taking walks, playing cards and fishing. My memories consist of growing up in a happy home on 14 acres of wooded land where we would go hiking and sledding. We would bike and pick berries off of bushes and eat them right away without washing them first (gasp). My memories are of my brother who I worshipped most of the time and drove crazy all of the time. But, he handled it pretty well...he either kicked my butt or just gave in to my relentless begging and allowed me to trail along. Mike and I were 5 years apart in age and quite different in personality (he was happy and I was a brat), but we were very close. I miss him a lot.
Why am I writing this right now, at 10:58 on a Thursday night, you may be asking? Well, I am currently in my hometown for a viewing tomorrow. The viewing is for a childhood friend, Shane. Shane was the son of one of my mom's best friends (they are still best friends) and one of my brother's cronies growing up. Shane was the solidly built round-faced boy who ALWAYS included me. He never, ever made me feel left out like some (most)of the other boys did. In truth, he was probably my first "crush" (if you can call it that at 8 years old). I have a scar on my forehead from a time when he and his sister and Mike and I were climbing a "mountain" (in truth it was probably a 6 foot ledge, but we thought we were impressive). I was the last one to go...right after Shane...a rock slipped out from under his foot and cut my head. Shane felt terrible because it was his foot that loosened the rock above. He was just a super-nice kid.
I haven't seen him in years...well, I ran into him now and again when we were both home, but not had a real TALK beyond the everyday pleasantries. But, nevertheless, I am mourning his death. My heart goes out to his mother who became a widow just 4 short years ago. I feel for his friends because they lost a great one. And I feel for his sister Renee...my friend from many, many years ago who is going through a time that I remember all too well. I hope at some point I can reach out to her and help, but for now I will go to the service and pay my respects...And keep the fond memories of my childhood...of Shane and Mike and Renee...close to my heart.
Why I never seem to blog anymore (Posted 2008)
Ok, it has been another month (and a half if you are actually counting) for me to hop back over here and type something...anything. I read a few blogs weekly, but I never really get a chance to collect my own thoughts enough to write...Here are a few examples of why I can't collect my own thoughts...Disclaimer: I love my kids...LOTS. I use humor to get me through my day and so they have a healthy understanding of sarcasm at a very early age...I don't see a problem with that...except when they use it on me.
Example #1: My 2 year old, as many of you have heard, nearly amputated her finger in the treadmill last month while I was running on it. (By the way, the most unbelieveable and scary part of the sentence is clearly the part about me running on the treadmill...but, alas, I have started running). Anyway, looooooonnng story short, we had 3 trips to the ER in 8 days (4 trips in 2 weeks if you count the trip I took the Friday before because my eyes swelled shut at Knoebels for no apparent reason). The finger got infected, as did her blood and other nasty stuff...bad scene which CONSUMED me and the fam for an entire month(causing a seizure at the grocery store...MAJOR DRAMA). We couldn't swim; we couldn't go to the park; our summer came to an ABRUPT HALT. You'd think that I would blog while sitting at home, but I did not...I snuggled, changed bandages endlessly, snuggled some more...and ran - OUTSIDE - when I could get away (No treadmill for me!) Regardless, she is healed and we are living it up during our abbreviated summer vacation. (I would post pictures, but several of my friends claim retaliation if I show them finger photos).
The finger stuff is a big reason why I didn't blog...just too little time, but there are other issues that don't seem to be directly related to time, but these are the ones that affect my mental frame of mind. You know, things like trying to educate your three children by taking them to the public library only to discover that the 2 year old pooped (MY GOD WILL SHE EVER USE THE POTTY?!?) and and has decided to throw herself into a healthy tantrum because I am ill-prepared for this situation (For Pete's sake, she already loaded up the diaper TWICE that morning...a third time, really?) and we have to leave. Well, she proceeds to start SCREAMING...LOUD-LY. Thankfully we are on the children's floor where it is ALMOST acceptable to speak beyond a hushed whisper. I hurry the elder children along and we head for the elevator...where the screaming escalates. We make the ONE FLOOR trip down the elevator and when the doors open, what do I see? Three of the library employees standing there trying to figure out what to do about the stuck elevator...which isn't actually stuck. They heard #3's screams and assumed someone panicked in a stuck elevator. Thankfully #1 is an incredibly responsible 7 year old and grabbed my library card, checked the books out and met me, #2 and the screamer at the car. Even though it was a 9 minute visit to the library I was clearly too drained that day to blog.
Let's see...Oh, then there was the day before yesterday at the grocery store that I nearly forgot...maybe because it wasn't THAT tramatic, but maybe a smidge cute. My 2 year old stands in the back of the cart...Go ahead, lecture me...I have heard it all before. Not only does she STAND in the back of the cart, sometimes she makes herself as stiff as a board and lays ACROSS the cart from the right to the left...Let me tell ya how THIS gets the old folks hackles up. Anyway, cart riding is not this issue in this particular tale. We were in the check-out after what seemed to be a rare almost-pleasant trip to the store. While in the check-out #3 grabbed M&M's while I was loading my items onto the belt (the belt now scares me because it is QUITE similar to the belt on a treadmill...kinda makes my stomach hurt). Anyway, while I was loading the belt, my lovely toddler was inspecting the candy or so I thought. When I got up to the cashier to check-out she handed me 3 bags of M&M's...I looked at her quizzically and she said "Your daughter convinced that man to buy these for her". WHAT!?! My DAUGHTER doesn't speak (well, no longer true..we are up to 32 words, but surely her language skills are not advanced enough to coax a stranger into buying her candy...Now wait...isn't there some no-no about taking candy from strangers?!). So, ANYWAY, HOW could she talk this cute elderly man into buying her M&M's? From what the clerk said she just kept smiling at him as she laid the candy packs one by one onto his other items (knowing full-well that they were being placed on HIS side of the grocery divider bar that I had placed at the end of his order). Apparently she is such a charmer (or he a sucker) that he bought them...As I looked up he waved at me from the door and headed out. All three kids were pretty excited that #3 hooked them up. Gonna have to REALLY keep an eye on that one.
I don't generally feel alone in my crazy-mom life. I have a good friend who is also the mother of 3 small children nearly identical ages to mine. Well, she took her #1 shopping for sneakers at a large sporting goods store with #2 and #3 in tow. While trying on #1's sneakers, #3 took off his own shoes and was clunking around in a pair of cleats...click, click, click (I wasn't there, but she said they went "click, click, click" while relaying the story to me). So, when they were finished #3 began his, what I now like to call, "3rd child expression" when my friend took the cleats off. Upon taking his over-sized cleats off she realized that she couldn't find his shoes. When she asked him where they were all he would do was point to the wall with all the shoe boxes. He'd put his shoes INTO one of the 3000 shoeboxes that lined the wall (3 rows deep!). It took her over 20 minutes to root through boxes (with a screaming toddler and two nagging children) to find his shoes, put them on his feet and head for the door. Poor girl. (However, understand - I AM NOT ALONE!) The sad part is that the next day a father from her children't daycare said to her "I saw you at the sporting goods store last night...You were having quite a time of it"...Gotta love THOSE people...so helpful.
You know who you ALSO have to love? Cocky teenage boy lifeguards. Not really...Just the other day we were enjoying a lovely day at our local pool (that's right...I take THREE children to the pool TOGETHER on a regular basis) when my 5 year old decided to be a funny-man. What possessed him to commit the following act I may never know, but it was one of those actions where you need to be stern with the discipline, but have a hard time hiding your smile...we've all had them. This is what happened: The cocky teenage boy lifeguard who refuses to crack a smile with his whistle-blowing mouth (I believe because he believes he is too cool?) was sitting in his super-cool, he-has-the-power (and the nice shady umbrella) lifeguard chair...you know, it sits about 2 feet higher than the rest of us? Pair that with the whistle and I can almost see how he might feel cool. Regardless, he is in his chair. My children are in the pool near him. I am sitting a few feet away watching my children while simultaneously chatting with a friend (I can multi-task like that). Well, for WHATEVER reason, #2 gets out of the pool with his cute, yellow rubber duck in his hand and does WHAT!?! He walk around the chair and behind the too-cool-to-be-real lifeguard and SQUIRTS WATER DOWN HIS SWIMTRUNKS!!! I kid you not! My son poured water from a DUCK down the pants of the on-duty lifeguard. You are probably wondering what Joe Cool's response was...NOTHING. Not a grimace. Not a smile. Not a whistle-blow. NOTHING. I was so amazed at my son's actions that it took me a minute to realize that it did indeed happen. I, of course, reprimanded my son (through stiff lips) and apologized to the life guard who said NOTHING. I couldn't read his expression through his fashionable sunglasses, but needless-to-say, I need to watch #2 pretty closely at the pool because I am not sure we can count on the lifeguard to save him.
So, now you understand a little bit more about my life and why sometimes I am uninspired...or just too darned tired...to blog. I will continue to make attempts...stopping and starting...until I produce something, but until then I am thankful for your patience.
Example #1: My 2 year old, as many of you have heard, nearly amputated her finger in the treadmill last month while I was running on it. (By the way, the most unbelieveable and scary part of the sentence is clearly the part about me running on the treadmill...but, alas, I have started running). Anyway, looooooonnng story short, we had 3 trips to the ER in 8 days (4 trips in 2 weeks if you count the trip I took the Friday before because my eyes swelled shut at Knoebels for no apparent reason). The finger got infected, as did her blood and other nasty stuff...bad scene which CONSUMED me and the fam for an entire month(causing a seizure at the grocery store...MAJOR DRAMA). We couldn't swim; we couldn't go to the park; our summer came to an ABRUPT HALT. You'd think that I would blog while sitting at home, but I did not...I snuggled, changed bandages endlessly, snuggled some more...and ran - OUTSIDE - when I could get away (No treadmill for me!) Regardless, she is healed and we are living it up during our abbreviated summer vacation. (I would post pictures, but several of my friends claim retaliation if I show them finger photos).
The finger stuff is a big reason why I didn't blog...just too little time, but there are other issues that don't seem to be directly related to time, but these are the ones that affect my mental frame of mind. You know, things like trying to educate your three children by taking them to the public library only to discover that the 2 year old pooped (MY GOD WILL SHE EVER USE THE POTTY?!?) and and has decided to throw herself into a healthy tantrum because I am ill-prepared for this situation (For Pete's sake, she already loaded up the diaper TWICE that morning...a third time, really?) and we have to leave. Well, she proceeds to start SCREAMING...LOUD-LY. Thankfully we are on the children's floor where it is ALMOST acceptable to speak beyond a hushed whisper. I hurry the elder children along and we head for the elevator...where the screaming escalates. We make the ONE FLOOR trip down the elevator and when the doors open, what do I see? Three of the library employees standing there trying to figure out what to do about the stuck elevator...which isn't actually stuck. They heard #3's screams and assumed someone panicked in a stuck elevator. Thankfully #1 is an incredibly responsible 7 year old and grabbed my library card, checked the books out and met me, #2 and the screamer at the car. Even though it was a 9 minute visit to the library I was clearly too drained that day to blog.
Let's see...Oh, then there was the day before yesterday at the grocery store that I nearly forgot...maybe because it wasn't THAT tramatic, but maybe a smidge cute. My 2 year old stands in the back of the cart...Go ahead, lecture me...I have heard it all before. Not only does she STAND in the back of the cart, sometimes she makes herself as stiff as a board and lays ACROSS the cart from the right to the left...Let me tell ya how THIS gets the old folks hackles up. Anyway, cart riding is not this issue in this particular tale. We were in the check-out after what seemed to be a rare almost-pleasant trip to the store. While in the check-out #3 grabbed M&M's while I was loading my items onto the belt (the belt now scares me because it is QUITE similar to the belt on a treadmill...kinda makes my stomach hurt). Anyway, while I was loading the belt, my lovely toddler was inspecting the candy or so I thought. When I got up to the cashier to check-out she handed me 3 bags of M&M's...I looked at her quizzically and she said "Your daughter convinced that man to buy these for her". WHAT!?! My DAUGHTER doesn't speak (well, no longer true..we are up to 32 words, but surely her language skills are not advanced enough to coax a stranger into buying her candy...Now wait...isn't there some no-no about taking candy from strangers?!). So, ANYWAY, HOW could she talk this cute elderly man into buying her M&M's? From what the clerk said she just kept smiling at him as she laid the candy packs one by one onto his other items (knowing full-well that they were being placed on HIS side of the grocery divider bar that I had placed at the end of his order). Apparently she is such a charmer (or he a sucker) that he bought them...As I looked up he waved at me from the door and headed out. All three kids were pretty excited that #3 hooked them up. Gonna have to REALLY keep an eye on that one.
I don't generally feel alone in my crazy-mom life. I have a good friend who is also the mother of 3 small children nearly identical ages to mine. Well, she took her #1 shopping for sneakers at a large sporting goods store with #2 and #3 in tow. While trying on #1's sneakers, #3 took off his own shoes and was clunking around in a pair of cleats...click, click, click (I wasn't there, but she said they went "click, click, click" while relaying the story to me). So, when they were finished #3 began his, what I now like to call, "3rd child expression" when my friend took the cleats off. Upon taking his over-sized cleats off she realized that she couldn't find his shoes. When she asked him where they were all he would do was point to the wall with all the shoe boxes. He'd put his shoes INTO one of the 3000 shoeboxes that lined the wall (3 rows deep!). It took her over 20 minutes to root through boxes (with a screaming toddler and two nagging children) to find his shoes, put them on his feet and head for the door. Poor girl. (However, understand - I AM NOT ALONE!) The sad part is that the next day a father from her children't daycare said to her "I saw you at the sporting goods store last night...You were having quite a time of it"...Gotta love THOSE people...so helpful.
You know who you ALSO have to love? Cocky teenage boy lifeguards. Not really...Just the other day we were enjoying a lovely day at our local pool (that's right...I take THREE children to the pool TOGETHER on a regular basis) when my 5 year old decided to be a funny-man. What possessed him to commit the following act I may never know, but it was one of those actions where you need to be stern with the discipline, but have a hard time hiding your smile...we've all had them. This is what happened: The cocky teenage boy lifeguard who refuses to crack a smile with his whistle-blowing mouth (I believe because he believes he is too cool?) was sitting in his super-cool, he-has-the-power (and the nice shady umbrella) lifeguard chair...you know, it sits about 2 feet higher than the rest of us? Pair that with the whistle and I can almost see how he might feel cool. Regardless, he is in his chair. My children are in the pool near him. I am sitting a few feet away watching my children while simultaneously chatting with a friend (I can multi-task like that). Well, for WHATEVER reason, #2 gets out of the pool with his cute, yellow rubber duck in his hand and does WHAT!?! He walk around the chair and behind the too-cool-to-be-real lifeguard and SQUIRTS WATER DOWN HIS SWIMTRUNKS!!! I kid you not! My son poured water from a DUCK down the pants of the on-duty lifeguard. You are probably wondering what Joe Cool's response was...NOTHING. Not a grimace. Not a smile. Not a whistle-blow. NOTHING. I was so amazed at my son's actions that it took me a minute to realize that it did indeed happen. I, of course, reprimanded my son (through stiff lips) and apologized to the life guard who said NOTHING. I couldn't read his expression through his fashionable sunglasses, but needless-to-say, I need to watch #2 pretty closely at the pool because I am not sure we can count on the lifeguard to save him.
So, now you understand a little bit more about my life and why sometimes I am uninspired...or just too darned tired...to blog. I will continue to make attempts...stopping and starting...until I produce something, but until then I am thankful for your patience.
My newest obsession (Posted 2008)
I love to text...LOVE LOVE LOVE it! I was introduced to the world of texting by my bff. It was her main form of communication. I was unaware of it's power...so naive, was I.
It is so exciting. I never knew. I was a texting nay-sayer..."Oh that is dumb...why not just call the person". Well, NOW I KNOW! As a person who has A LOT of random thoughts in a day it is a LIFESAVER...more for my friends than for me. I used to be the "over-caller"...I had a thought and it HAD to be released at that exact moment. HEEEELLLLLO texting. I can send my random thoughts (ex. "Big sale on Luvs at Weis Markets! or "OMG, there is a strapless one-piece denim shorts phenomenon going on here...It is everywhere and I have yet to see someone look good in it!" - Yep, actually sent that one once...I was FRIGHTENED!) And my friends can respond when they have a moment...IF they even feel like it.
I am not too concerned when I don't get a response...I tend to send a lot of random thoughts that might not need to be conversed about (see why a phone call would be time-consuming and unnecessary?) Now, I am not saying that I don't ENJOY a response...When my phone vibrates and lights up like it is Christmas telling me that someone has just taken the time to send me a thought I get EXCITED. I mean, really, someone is choosing to communicate with me...and I LOVE that. Sometimes I love it more than actually speaking to the individual...I love to send cheesy little quips back and forth...I do this a lot with two friends in particular...So fun. Anyway, that is my new obsession...If you don't text you should really check into it. It is dirt cheap and, once you get that hang of your keyboard, SO much easier than calling.
It is so exciting. I never knew. I was a texting nay-sayer..."Oh that is dumb...why not just call the person". Well, NOW I KNOW! As a person who has A LOT of random thoughts in a day it is a LIFESAVER...more for my friends than for me. I used to be the "over-caller"...I had a thought and it HAD to be released at that exact moment. HEEEELLLLLO texting. I can send my random thoughts (ex. "Big sale on Luvs at Weis Markets! or "OMG, there is a strapless one-piece denim shorts phenomenon going on here...It is everywhere and I have yet to see someone look good in it!" - Yep, actually sent that one once...I was FRIGHTENED!) And my friends can respond when they have a moment...IF they even feel like it.
I am not too concerned when I don't get a response...I tend to send a lot of random thoughts that might not need to be conversed about (see why a phone call would be time-consuming and unnecessary?) Now, I am not saying that I don't ENJOY a response...When my phone vibrates and lights up like it is Christmas telling me that someone has just taken the time to send me a thought I get EXCITED. I mean, really, someone is choosing to communicate with me...and I LOVE that. Sometimes I love it more than actually speaking to the individual...I love to send cheesy little quips back and forth...I do this a lot with two friends in particular...So fun. Anyway, that is my new obsession...If you don't text you should really check into it. It is dirt cheap and, once you get that hang of your keyboard, SO much easier than calling.
Family Traditions (Posted 2008)
This weekend we camped at Knoebels Grove....just like we did last year...and the year before...and the 4 years before that. We camp in my parents 36 foot RV...very cramped quarters for a family of 5 and two grandparents (oh, and a Boston Terrier). Several relatives from New York come down and participate in what has now become a family tradition. It is terrific. We always get the same sites on the same weekend in June every year...it is really routine. Of course, every year there is SOMETHING that you can't account for ahead of time...Van tires need replaced, someone loses their glasses on the Skloosh water ride, someone (ME) ends up at the ER with eyes swollen shut, someone else forgets to put their cell phone in a baggie before heading onto the Skloosh (this same person lost their cell phone a few years ago...hmmmmm)...the list is endless. Yet, every year on the second week of June, there we are...Knoebels Grove, riding rides and eating Cesaeri's delicious pizza.
And new traditions spring up every year...for instance, a few years ago someone suggested a family Bumper Car ride. So we did. It was the most fun we have ever had on an amusement park ride and, hence, it became a tradition..trying to ram another family member as hard and aggressively as you can. We always do the park on Saturday and the water slides/pool on Sunday. Campfire on Sunday night regardless of the humidity. Hoagies (subs for you New Yorkers) on Thursday upon arrival in PA. All traditions. This year we added Sunday night pizza around the campfire to our tradition. Someone didn't feel like cooking...suggested it...Done.
So, even after being in cramped quarters on a day when the heat index reaches 112 you still gather around the campfire because the under 10 crowd gathered wood. It's just what you do...it's what you EXPECT. It's nice. And every year something unexpected happens that makes all the work worthwhile. This year: #1 made a new friend. My NY cousin's wife brought her "little (little being 43 years old) brother with her. And he brought his 8 year old son, M. I am thrilled to announce that M and J (the dad) will be returning next year to hopefully become part of our annual Knoebels outing.
I have memories from my childhood of wonderful family traditions...especially going to my uncles cabin where all the family would settle in for the weekend and also camping with my grandparents, again same time/same place every year. These are lifelong memories we are making. And you know what? For the kids the memories will be of Skloosh soakings, bumper car rides, gathering wood for the campfire and new friends from Brooklyn...they will never remember arguments over RV positions or someone losing their glasses on the Skloosh. They will remember, hopefully, this time where their family members gathered around to spend a weekend acting like kids.
For those of you who enjoy commenting: What are YOUR family traditions? If you don't have any, it isn't too late to start. Here are a few pictures of our fun!
Me, the thugs and my mental patient...(that is #1 in the bottom corner with her hands in the air...what a daredevil!)
#1 and her friend, M...
Cousins...
#1 off the 3 meter board...
#2 on the Handcars...always a fav...
Cousins...I think they are trying to buy into my "favorite cousin" spot...
Cousins on the Whip...
And new traditions spring up every year...for instance, a few years ago someone suggested a family Bumper Car ride. So we did. It was the most fun we have ever had on an amusement park ride and, hence, it became a tradition..trying to ram another family member as hard and aggressively as you can. We always do the park on Saturday and the water slides/pool on Sunday. Campfire on Sunday night regardless of the humidity. Hoagies (subs for you New Yorkers) on Thursday upon arrival in PA. All traditions. This year we added Sunday night pizza around the campfire to our tradition. Someone didn't feel like cooking...suggested it...Done.
So, even after being in cramped quarters on a day when the heat index reaches 112 you still gather around the campfire because the under 10 crowd gathered wood. It's just what you do...it's what you EXPECT. It's nice. And every year something unexpected happens that makes all the work worthwhile. This year: #1 made a new friend. My NY cousin's wife brought her "little (little being 43 years old) brother with her. And he brought his 8 year old son, M. I am thrilled to announce that M and J (the dad) will be returning next year to hopefully become part of our annual Knoebels outing.
I have memories from my childhood of wonderful family traditions...especially going to my uncles cabin where all the family would settle in for the weekend and also camping with my grandparents, again same time/same place every year. These are lifelong memories we are making. And you know what? For the kids the memories will be of Skloosh soakings, bumper car rides, gathering wood for the campfire and new friends from Brooklyn...they will never remember arguments over RV positions or someone losing their glasses on the Skloosh. They will remember, hopefully, this time where their family members gathered around to spend a weekend acting like kids.
For those of you who enjoy commenting: What are YOUR family traditions? If you don't have any, it isn't too late to start. Here are a few pictures of our fun!
Me, the thugs and my mental patient...(that is #1 in the bottom corner with her hands in the air...what a daredevil!)
#1 and her friend, M...
Cousins...
#1 off the 3 meter board...
#2 on the Handcars...always a fav...
Cousins...I think they are trying to buy into my "favorite cousin" spot...
Cousins on the Whip...
I need a vacation (Posted 2008)
We leave for Disney tomorrow. That should be exciting, right? Well I haven't been able to get too excited because things are happening here at the old homestead...and those things are keeping me from focusing on(or packing for) vacation. What kinds of things, you ask?
Two days ago (I think that was Friday), I needed a carseat put back in the van. My husband opened the garage door to do that for me because I had my own three children plkus the two neighbor girls. He put the seat in teh van and came back to close the garage door. When he did so the door bumped a box and the box bumped a water pipe ("and the armbone's connected to the..." and water began spraying EVERYWHERE. He had walked away toward his car to leave for work..I screamed (that water was COLD) and hurried to shut off the main water to the pipe(I am good like that in emergency sitations) and called him back. He did some swearing...and then I sent him off to work with the promise that I would have the pipe repaired before he got home.
I took a picture of the borken pipe with my cell phone and then did what ANY (insane) person would do...I shut off the main water to the house and went to my favorite coffee shop. I needed to refuel (at 8:30 am) before I took on this project.
After refueling I was off to the local hardware store. I showed Mr. Plumber-man my cell phone picture (he looked at me like I was NUTS...I thought it was ingenious). Then he proceeded to call me all sorts of nice names like "little lady". Although a bit sexist, he was incredibly helpful. I had my gear and was on my way. I called a neighbor because I always like to have an extra set of hands when doing a project...in case I electrocute myself...or in this case, drown. He came over and together we reapired the broken pipe. Hubby was impressed and I was relieved.
Not for long...Yesterday I went to buy some coffee at the local mini-mart (I think I drink a lot of coffee) to fuel up for the first time of the day. When I came home two of my kids were in front of the tv and the third was playing in the toyroom. Dave was on the computer working and bubbles were floating across my kitchen floor...the source? The dishwasher. I knew exactly what happened. I called to my beloved "Honey, did you put sink dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher". He replies "Yes, we were out of the powder". An honest mistake. He came up to see hwat was going on (at this point the kids were super-excited) and again with the swearing. He went back to work and I went to work on the bubble situation. I tried cold water from the sprayer in the sink (not helpful). I tried vinegar (sounded plausible). I tried a BUCKET of cold water (Isn't cold water supposed to get rid of bubbles?) FInally I called my best friend...she is so wise. She said to shop vac the dishwasher. I didn't have a shop vac so I improvised...I used the steamcleaner. It worked. No more bubbles and life is good...until Sunday.
Dave took our eldest to a dog show. She LOVES dogs so it was a big event for her. I decided to take the wee ones to the big rat (Chuck E Cheese). I decided to skip the coffee this morning and go with a protein shake. I was trying a new brand and I have to admit that it was PRETTY tasty. However, there we are an hour later, shoes on, ready to go out the door and my body decides that it doesn't really like that particular brand of protein. I head for the bathroom and begin to smell a burning smell..."Hmmmmmmm...What is that?" I wonder. The smell gets stronger and I hurry out of the bathroom to discover its source...#3 (in the short time I was in the bathroom) managed to pull out the iron, pick the outlet safety plug from its home in the wall and plug in the iron. Then she laid the iron on its side. This was the result:
I was flabbergasted...I had NO idea what to do (other than unplug the iron). Did I mention that this spot is RIGHT in the middle of my living room floor...RIGHT in the middle?
I did what any (insane) person would do...I grabbed my kids and went to see the big rat. We had a good time. My friend Sara (a Martha Stewart of sorts) said we could fix it. So, we went home to my house and did this:
and then finished up with this:
and then took a good look at it. I believe she said "If you step WAY back here and blurry your eye a little bit you don't even notice". So, then we ordered this:
in this color:
Here is a picture of the guilty party (in her defense she DID try to clean it up with a wipe).
Thank goodness nothing (child nor house) got seriously burned, but REALLY, can I just get out of here and start my vacation already?
Two days ago (I think that was Friday), I needed a carseat put back in the van. My husband opened the garage door to do that for me because I had my own three children plkus the two neighbor girls. He put the seat in teh van and came back to close the garage door. When he did so the door bumped a box and the box bumped a water pipe ("and the armbone's connected to the..." and water began spraying EVERYWHERE. He had walked away toward his car to leave for work..I screamed (that water was COLD) and hurried to shut off the main water to the pipe(I am good like that in emergency sitations) and called him back. He did some swearing...and then I sent him off to work with the promise that I would have the pipe repaired before he got home.
I took a picture of the borken pipe with my cell phone and then did what ANY (insane) person would do...I shut off the main water to the house and went to my favorite coffee shop. I needed to refuel (at 8:30 am) before I took on this project.
After refueling I was off to the local hardware store. I showed Mr. Plumber-man my cell phone picture (he looked at me like I was NUTS...I thought it was ingenious). Then he proceeded to call me all sorts of nice names like "little lady". Although a bit sexist, he was incredibly helpful. I had my gear and was on my way. I called a neighbor because I always like to have an extra set of hands when doing a project...in case I electrocute myself...or in this case, drown. He came over and together we reapired the broken pipe. Hubby was impressed and I was relieved.
Not for long...Yesterday I went to buy some coffee at the local mini-mart (I think I drink a lot of coffee) to fuel up for the first time of the day. When I came home two of my kids were in front of the tv and the third was playing in the toyroom. Dave was on the computer working and bubbles were floating across my kitchen floor...the source? The dishwasher. I knew exactly what happened. I called to my beloved "Honey, did you put sink dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher". He replies "Yes, we were out of the powder". An honest mistake. He came up to see hwat was going on (at this point the kids were super-excited) and again with the swearing. He went back to work and I went to work on the bubble situation. I tried cold water from the sprayer in the sink (not helpful). I tried vinegar (sounded plausible). I tried a BUCKET of cold water (Isn't cold water supposed to get rid of bubbles?) FInally I called my best friend...she is so wise. She said to shop vac the dishwasher. I didn't have a shop vac so I improvised...I used the steamcleaner. It worked. No more bubbles and life is good...until Sunday.
Dave took our eldest to a dog show. She LOVES dogs so it was a big event for her. I decided to take the wee ones to the big rat (Chuck E Cheese). I decided to skip the coffee this morning and go with a protein shake. I was trying a new brand and I have to admit that it was PRETTY tasty. However, there we are an hour later, shoes on, ready to go out the door and my body decides that it doesn't really like that particular brand of protein. I head for the bathroom and begin to smell a burning smell..."Hmmmmmmm...What is that?" I wonder. The smell gets stronger and I hurry out of the bathroom to discover its source...#3 (in the short time I was in the bathroom) managed to pull out the iron, pick the outlet safety plug from its home in the wall and plug in the iron. Then she laid the iron on its side. This was the result:
I was flabbergasted...I had NO idea what to do (other than unplug the iron). Did I mention that this spot is RIGHT in the middle of my living room floor...RIGHT in the middle?
I did what any (insane) person would do...I grabbed my kids and went to see the big rat. We had a good time. My friend Sara (a Martha Stewart of sorts) said we could fix it. So, we went home to my house and did this:
and then finished up with this:
and then took a good look at it. I believe she said "If you step WAY back here and blurry your eye a little bit you don't even notice". So, then we ordered this:
in this color:
Here is a picture of the guilty party (in her defense she DID try to clean it up with a wipe).
Thank goodness nothing (child nor house) got seriously burned, but REALLY, can I just get out of here and start my vacation already?
What do I want to be when I grow up? (Posted 2008)
Ok, #3 has hit 2 1/2 (and all the glorious things that go along with being a full-fledged 2 year old that we won't get into right now) and I am realizing that it won't be all that long before she too goes to school. That leaves me and Brutus-the-dog home all day by ourselves (I love Brutus, but he isn't much of a conversationalist). I never used to see being home all day by myself as a problem. Dave and I had an agreement that if I didn't run us into irreparable financial ruins with my shopping habit while he was in law school then he would never ask me to go out and earn money. I held up my end of the deal so I am not require by MARRIAGE LAW to get a "real job". But, now that the wee ones are getting older the prospect of being home alone all day doesn't appeal to me as much as it once did.
Now, here's the rub...I don't know what I want to do. I mean I have a dream job in my head...I would get paid a lot of money to shop, talk on the phone and play on the computer all day. I would get to make my own hours and do the job tasks at my leisure. I could wear what I want and have great co-workers who I go out with for a drink after work sometimes (and important mandatory dinners would take place at fancy shmancy restaurants where it is almost required that you order the lobster). The job would be near my favorite coffee shop and maybe near a good manicure shop or massage parlor. Ok, so if anyone knows of a job that fits these requirements please let me know (oh, and I would prefer not to relocate...thanks).
Now, seriously, I have a legitimate problem here because I HONESTLY do not know what I want to be when I (or rather my children) grow up. Here are my skills...at least I THINK they are my skills...or people TELL ME they are my gifts...of course, I have a lot of nice friends who may just be telling me what I want to hear, but regardless...here is the list I have compiles (on the back of an envelope in purple crayon):
- I have excellent people skills: This meaning I can talk to ABSOLUTELY anyone...even some of the grumpy-faced 1st grade mothers who really hate to see me walk in the door.
- I love to feature write...like this blog. It is SUCH a stress-reliever for me. I don't even care if anyone reads it (except now I OFFICIALLY have three readers: Hi Julie, Kate and Erin!)
- I can talk on the phone like nobody's business...although sometimes it is about EVERYONE'S business (just kidding)
- I am pretty technologically savvy...I can explain ANYONE's cell phone/camera/etc to them without the manual
- I can find anything about just about ANYTHING on the net...I once took a picture with my phone of a friend's tattoo and then researched the symbol on the Internet because she wouldn't tell me what it meant...It took me less than a day to figure it out. I mean, I'm not bragging or anything, but THAT is pretty...ya know...impressive.
- I can sell ice to Eskimos...but not Mary Kay to random strangers. I am not a "cold-call" kinda gal. I like to hot calls or better yet receive hot calls - (i.e. someone calling me to say "I hear you sell Mary Kay...can I buy some from you?")
- Did I mention that I love to talk? I mean to ANYONE...#1 tells everyone a story about how I struck up a conversation with a woman at McDonald's (actually I wiped her baby's nose because it was really gross and she was wearing a front-pack carrier and couldn't see that it was almost running into the baby's mouth) and a few months later she showed up at one of my Mary Kay parties with a friend of mine who came. Small world. She remembered me as "that chatty girl from McDonald's who wiped her infant's nose".
- I am pretty motivated...and organized...well, except for my house...and my car. But I am REALLY organized when I am 1st grade room mom (or Kindergarten for that matter as I have successfully completed a year as such)
Now, I think that gives you a pretty good idea of what I CAN do...let's list what I might not consider to be my strong points:
- I hate bodily fluids...I only say this because it seems that ALL my friends ship their youngest child off to Kindergarten and head to nursing school...not for me. I don't do bodily fluids unless they are mine or my offspring's (and even that gets kinda hairy sometimes)
- I don't want to work weekends
- I don't want to work FREQUENT evenings (notice I said FREQUENT...and put it in caps...I am willing to go to an occasional dinner at a fancy restaurant and have fillet Mignon while drinking wine and talking business once in a while if I must...but this cannot be every night...and late nights at the desk just aren't gonna happen)
- I don't want anyone's life to depend on what I do. Originally I went into Mary Kay because I thought "making people pretty isn't too stressful...it will be fun". See, I didn't want to sell defibrillators. I knew straight-away that it was too much stress. One malfunctions and I could never live with myself.
- Oh, oh...I don't want to lift boxes. I realize that this would get me into shape, but if you read my last blog then you understand my feelings on exercise - and I think the dress code would discourage boots with 4 inch heels.
So, this is my dilemma...WHAT can you do with these fine skills? NADA...Nothing...Zip. In all seriousness I would love to do one of a number of things
...be an admissions counselor for a college (but I am 15 credits away from a college degree...I am willing to bet that they want someone who actually HAS a degree to interview people hoping to EARN a degree...just a good policy, I think)
...a travel agent (downfall: may require weekend work AND sitting in an office for lots of hours...could mean a bigger butt?)
...an outside sales person (Just can't figure out WHAT to sell or who to sell it to...would probably have to take a class to actually LEARN some sales skills...Mary Kay didn't quite ready me for pharmaceutical sales)
So...help? Suggestions?? Wanna draw up my resume? Hire me? Let me know if you come up with anything fabulous because as of right now I am probably going to end up sitting at home (yeah, right) with Brutus-the-dog watching soap opera's...ok, that is a bit of a stretch. I will probably end up shopping and spending a bunch of money running us into the debt that Dave worried about in law school. Yeah, I better get an idea...soon.
Now, here's the rub...I don't know what I want to do. I mean I have a dream job in my head...I would get paid a lot of money to shop, talk on the phone and play on the computer all day. I would get to make my own hours and do the job tasks at my leisure. I could wear what I want and have great co-workers who I go out with for a drink after work sometimes (and important mandatory dinners would take place at fancy shmancy restaurants where it is almost required that you order the lobster). The job would be near my favorite coffee shop and maybe near a good manicure shop or massage parlor. Ok, so if anyone knows of a job that fits these requirements please let me know (oh, and I would prefer not to relocate...thanks).
Now, seriously, I have a legitimate problem here because I HONESTLY do not know what I want to be when I (or rather my children) grow up. Here are my skills...at least I THINK they are my skills...or people TELL ME they are my gifts...of course, I have a lot of nice friends who may just be telling me what I want to hear, but regardless...here is the list I have compiles (on the back of an envelope in purple crayon):
- I have excellent people skills: This meaning I can talk to ABSOLUTELY anyone...even some of the grumpy-faced 1st grade mothers who really hate to see me walk in the door.
- I love to feature write...like this blog. It is SUCH a stress-reliever for me. I don't even care if anyone reads it (except now I OFFICIALLY have three readers: Hi Julie, Kate and Erin!)
- I can talk on the phone like nobody's business...although sometimes it is about EVERYONE'S business (just kidding)
- I am pretty technologically savvy...I can explain ANYONE's cell phone/camera/etc to them without the manual
- I can find anything about just about ANYTHING on the net...I once took a picture with my phone of a friend's tattoo and then researched the symbol on the Internet because she wouldn't tell me what it meant...It took me less than a day to figure it out. I mean, I'm not bragging or anything, but THAT is pretty...ya know...impressive.
- I can sell ice to Eskimos...but not Mary Kay to random strangers. I am not a "cold-call" kinda gal. I like to hot calls or better yet receive hot calls - (i.e. someone calling me to say "I hear you sell Mary Kay...can I buy some from you?")
- Did I mention that I love to talk? I mean to ANYONE...#1 tells everyone a story about how I struck up a conversation with a woman at McDonald's (actually I wiped her baby's nose because it was really gross and she was wearing a front-pack carrier and couldn't see that it was almost running into the baby's mouth) and a few months later she showed up at one of my Mary Kay parties with a friend of mine who came. Small world. She remembered me as "that chatty girl from McDonald's who wiped her infant's nose".
- I am pretty motivated...and organized...well, except for my house...and my car. But I am REALLY organized when I am 1st grade room mom (or Kindergarten for that matter as I have successfully completed a year as such)
Now, I think that gives you a pretty good idea of what I CAN do...let's list what I might not consider to be my strong points:
- I hate bodily fluids...I only say this because it seems that ALL my friends ship their youngest child off to Kindergarten and head to nursing school...not for me. I don't do bodily fluids unless they are mine or my offspring's (and even that gets kinda hairy sometimes)
- I don't want to work weekends
- I don't want to work FREQUENT evenings (notice I said FREQUENT...and put it in caps...I am willing to go to an occasional dinner at a fancy restaurant and have fillet Mignon while drinking wine and talking business once in a while if I must...but this cannot be every night...and late nights at the desk just aren't gonna happen)
- I don't want anyone's life to depend on what I do. Originally I went into Mary Kay because I thought "making people pretty isn't too stressful...it will be fun". See, I didn't want to sell defibrillators. I knew straight-away that it was too much stress. One malfunctions and I could never live with myself.
- Oh, oh...I don't want to lift boxes. I realize that this would get me into shape, but if you read my last blog then you understand my feelings on exercise - and I think the dress code would discourage boots with 4 inch heels.
So, this is my dilemma...WHAT can you do with these fine skills? NADA...Nothing...Zip. In all seriousness I would love to do one of a number of things
...be an admissions counselor for a college (but I am 15 credits away from a college degree...I am willing to bet that they want someone who actually HAS a degree to interview people hoping to EARN a degree...just a good policy, I think)
...a travel agent (downfall: may require weekend work AND sitting in an office for lots of hours...could mean a bigger butt?)
...an outside sales person (Just can't figure out WHAT to sell or who to sell it to...would probably have to take a class to actually LEARN some sales skills...Mary Kay didn't quite ready me for pharmaceutical sales)
So...help? Suggestions?? Wanna draw up my resume? Hire me? Let me know if you come up with anything fabulous because as of right now I am probably going to end up sitting at home (yeah, right) with Brutus-the-dog watching soap opera's...ok, that is a bit of a stretch. I will probably end up shopping and spending a bunch of money running us into the debt that Dave worried about in law school. Yeah, I better get an idea...soon.
My weight loss....Or not. (Postd 2008)
First of all, let me give you a disclaimer: I will joke/poke fun/ridicule myself in this blog. I do the same thing in person. I do not have low self-esteem, nor am I fishing for compliments. I am simply a girl who is pretty comfortable with herself and has a knack for self-deprecating humor. Ok, so no comments to "pep me up" or argue with me about my big butt...I KNOW it is a big butt and I am fine with it...mostly.
That said, I will now tell you a story. My 7 year old is a super-sensitive gal. She "confesses" something almost every night: talking on the bus when she shouldn't be, tapping her crayon on the grey school carpet to see if it will leave a mark if she taps "really lightly"...you get the point. Well, one night she was particularly bothered by something that she refused to reveal to me. She only wanted to talk to her daddy. I was a little surprised by this as I am usualy on the receiving end of her soul cleansing. But whatever, it let me off the hook for the night.
My husband came downstairs a few minutes later and looked a little "flushed" (and maybe a little amused). I asked him what her confession was and he hem-hawed around until he finally said "She thinks you have a big butt". I was a little taken aback by this. I mean I KNEW I had a big butt...I know I wear a size 14 (a tight 12 if I really try and there is some stretch mixed in with the cotton) jeans, but was this really confession-worthy? I head upstairs because I can still hear my little guilt-ridden lady sobbing. I crawl in next to her and tell her that I know she thinks I have a big butt and that this is ok. She replies that she feels guilty because she knows it is what is INSIDE that matters and I have a beautiful inside...and she went on to say that I had a beautiful outside too, but just a big butt. She didn't think she should have these thoughts. I had a talk with her about how this was simply OBSERVATION and you can't help what you observe as long as you don't comment on it. She seems settled and I headed downstairs...to the treadmill.
This begins the journey of weight loss for me. I have tried (sometimes successfully and sometimes unsuccessfully) to lose weight in the past and I eventually my lost pounds return. I can never figure out why. Well, THIS time I am on it...I am going to lose some of my big butt (not too much mind you...my husband likes a girl with some junk in her trunk) and keep it off so I can ease my daughter's conscience. This is my mindset. I am on it. I can do it...
That was 4 weeks ago. I have had little to no success. I have eaten more protein than I care to remember and I have been drinking just ask much (the shakes are NOT pleasant, but yet I sacrifice). I am trying to eat 1500 calories, 150 carbs and 150 grams of protein. I journal. I deprive myself. My scale never changes. My friends said "Oh, you must be gaining muscle"...tough to do if you don't exercise. So, maybe that IS the problem. I really am not big on exercise. In my brain I wear nice work-out clothes and pop in my iPod earbuds...I hop on outside and run...Problem is I don't own ONE pair of sweatpants nor do I really like sneakers...they make me short. And, as I have discovered, you can't run so well in 3 inch heels. (We won't even get into my issues with sports bras)So, where does that leave me? I just am not sure. I bought a dvd just a few months ago. It was Carmen Electra's "Strip tease aerobics". I thought this was a great concept...learn a little something while burning the calories. It is still in the cellophane. It intimidates me. I am not the most coordinated individual in the world. I am a really good dancer...when I have had some drinks. There is a reason I haven't taken ballroom dancing. I just don't think I am coordinated enough. And striptease? WOW...that is BIG step. I am going to work up to it. That video haunts me from my counter. I WILL do it...I think I can do it without sneakers. I have to find a time to do it thought...can't be practicing the old bedroom dancing with the young'uns around, right? I really am going to take off the cellophane...tomorrow.
Meanwhile, let's analyze dieting: In my world it just doesn't work. I research only to discover that protein is good (but watch out for tuna because it will give you mercury poisoning and your hair will fall out...what is the point of being skinny if you are bald?), carbs are bad although the latest experts I have heard from (like last week on the Today show) say that carbs, especially the potatoes are helpful in dieting. Low-fat is bad because there is too much sugar. Sugar substitutes are bad because they make you hungry. You need lots of fiber, but watch the grains because they have the always forbidden carbs. Water is good...everybody agrees on that. Everything causes cancer...soy, sugar substitutes, diet soda (which also, I guess, turns into like cyanide in your guts)...you name it. So, with all this information I have decided that this is the diet plan I should follow: No carbs except potatoes, high protein foods (except tuna...and steak and most breakfast meats...oh and lunch meats...so basically: eat organic chicken only with your potatoes), fiber...but low carb fiber, please. And no sugar, soy, sugar substitutes and carbs. Be careful of fruit...you may think that eating fruit all the time is healthy, but you are confused my friend, although fruit is a rockin' source of fiber there are carbs in fruit so put down the bananas.
How can ANYONE lose weight with these conflicting messages? But, people do. I am going to keep on working to be one of THOSE people...you know, the ones whose kids DON'T lose sleep over the size of their mother bottoms? That will be me...it just might take a little more time (in sneakers) than I thought it would. For now, I will continue to blame the chocolate smell.
That said, I will now tell you a story. My 7 year old is a super-sensitive gal. She "confesses" something almost every night: talking on the bus when she shouldn't be, tapping her crayon on the grey school carpet to see if it will leave a mark if she taps "really lightly"...you get the point. Well, one night she was particularly bothered by something that she refused to reveal to me. She only wanted to talk to her daddy. I was a little surprised by this as I am usualy on the receiving end of her soul cleansing. But whatever, it let me off the hook for the night.
My husband came downstairs a few minutes later and looked a little "flushed" (and maybe a little amused). I asked him what her confession was and he hem-hawed around until he finally said "She thinks you have a big butt". I was a little taken aback by this. I mean I KNEW I had a big butt...I know I wear a size 14 (a tight 12 if I really try and there is some stretch mixed in with the cotton) jeans, but was this really confession-worthy? I head upstairs because I can still hear my little guilt-ridden lady sobbing. I crawl in next to her and tell her that I know she thinks I have a big butt and that this is ok. She replies that she feels guilty because she knows it is what is INSIDE that matters and I have a beautiful inside...and she went on to say that I had a beautiful outside too, but just a big butt. She didn't think she should have these thoughts. I had a talk with her about how this was simply OBSERVATION and you can't help what you observe as long as you don't comment on it. She seems settled and I headed downstairs...to the treadmill.
This begins the journey of weight loss for me. I have tried (sometimes successfully and sometimes unsuccessfully) to lose weight in the past and I eventually my lost pounds return. I can never figure out why. Well, THIS time I am on it...I am going to lose some of my big butt (not too much mind you...my husband likes a girl with some junk in her trunk) and keep it off so I can ease my daughter's conscience. This is my mindset. I am on it. I can do it...
That was 4 weeks ago. I have had little to no success. I have eaten more protein than I care to remember and I have been drinking just ask much (the shakes are NOT pleasant, but yet I sacrifice). I am trying to eat 1500 calories, 150 carbs and 150 grams of protein. I journal. I deprive myself. My scale never changes. My friends said "Oh, you must be gaining muscle"...tough to do if you don't exercise. So, maybe that IS the problem. I really am not big on exercise. In my brain I wear nice work-out clothes and pop in my iPod earbuds...I hop on outside and run...Problem is I don't own ONE pair of sweatpants nor do I really like sneakers...they make me short. And, as I have discovered, you can't run so well in 3 inch heels. (We won't even get into my issues with sports bras)So, where does that leave me? I just am not sure. I bought a dvd just a few months ago. It was Carmen Electra's "Strip tease aerobics". I thought this was a great concept...learn a little something while burning the calories. It is still in the cellophane. It intimidates me. I am not the most coordinated individual in the world. I am a really good dancer...when I have had some drinks. There is a reason I haven't taken ballroom dancing. I just don't think I am coordinated enough. And striptease? WOW...that is BIG step. I am going to work up to it. That video haunts me from my counter. I WILL do it...I think I can do it without sneakers. I have to find a time to do it thought...can't be practicing the old bedroom dancing with the young'uns around, right? I really am going to take off the cellophane...tomorrow.
Meanwhile, let's analyze dieting: In my world it just doesn't work. I research only to discover that protein is good (but watch out for tuna because it will give you mercury poisoning and your hair will fall out...what is the point of being skinny if you are bald?), carbs are bad although the latest experts I have heard from (like last week on the Today show) say that carbs, especially the potatoes are helpful in dieting. Low-fat is bad because there is too much sugar. Sugar substitutes are bad because they make you hungry. You need lots of fiber, but watch the grains because they have the always forbidden carbs. Water is good...everybody agrees on that. Everything causes cancer...soy, sugar substitutes, diet soda (which also, I guess, turns into like cyanide in your guts)...you name it. So, with all this information I have decided that this is the diet plan I should follow: No carbs except potatoes, high protein foods (except tuna...and steak and most breakfast meats...oh and lunch meats...so basically: eat organic chicken only with your potatoes), fiber...but low carb fiber, please. And no sugar, soy, sugar substitutes and carbs. Be careful of fruit...you may think that eating fruit all the time is healthy, but you are confused my friend, although fruit is a rockin' source of fiber there are carbs in fruit so put down the bananas.
How can ANYONE lose weight with these conflicting messages? But, people do. I am going to keep on working to be one of THOSE people...you know, the ones whose kids DON'T lose sleep over the size of their mother bottoms? That will be me...it just might take a little more time (in sneakers) than I thought it would. For now, I will continue to blame the chocolate smell.
Walking Man (Posted in 2008)
There is a man who walks here in my town. I see him every day without fail. He walks and he walks and he walks. He is very tall...he looks kind of like a lumberjack. He walks along the same route every day all hunched over in his flannel zip up shirt and big boots...his big arms swinging at his side. He has a full red beard and lots of thick red hair and I am curious about him. I have asked around and everyone just says the same thing "Oh, you mean Crazy Walker Man". Yep, Crazy Walker Man...that no one knows ANYTHING about. Now, I am not too concerned about Crazy Walker Man because he obviously gets decent meals because he is HUGE and it takes a lot of calories to sustain all that weight while doing all that walking. He also looks pretty clean so he must have somewhere to cleanse himself.
When I first moved to the town I always thought he was just walking to the bus stop each morning and our schedules just coincided...not the case. No matter what time I travel down that road Crazy Walking Man is walking either to or from the bus stop area...swinging his arms, head down...just walking.
When I first moved to the town I always thought he was just walking to the bus stop each morning and our schedules just coincided...not the case. No matter what time I travel down that road Crazy Walking Man is walking either to or from the bus stop area...swinging his arms, head down...just walking.
Am I too old (Posted 2008)
Ok, I am so lost when it comes to shopping anymore. I used to be quite fashionable and frequently gave others advice. But, now, here I am in this thirty-something period where I just have no idea what is appropriate. I know what I enjoy. I know what I hate, but I don't know what an almost-32-year-old woman wears without looking A) like she is trying too hard to hold on to her youth (which, by the way, I am NOT...I embrace each age without a problem...so far) or B) my mother (not that there is anything wrong with my mother's style, but come on, there IS a 30 year age gap).
I can usually ignore this issue because i have three small children and that simply doens't allow me the freedom to go to the mall and spend lots of hours and lots of money. So, I usually get by with what I have which isn't hideous, but certainly won't put my on Parenting Magazine's Most Fashionable Mommies list anytime soon. (No, I don't think they have such a list, but it makes my point).
But, this issue can no longer be ignored. We are going to Disney and to see some family in Florida in a mere 5 weeks. My parents are already in Florida, having left this past afternoon Saturday. In the name of keeping my sanity at the airport, I packed and sent our suitcases with my parents in their RV. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but upon further inspection (on,say, Saturday morning)I realized that I had purchased the children SO many cute matching things (yep, on vacation I am THAT mom), but I had neglected to purchase myself anything...not even anything near-cute...nothing at all. I pulled out all my old things...and I do mean old in the literal sense...and was very dismayed to see that I existed last summer (when I thought I may have been pretty stylish) in layered wife-beaters and distresed denim capris/bermuda shorts. This may be ok for ramming around the playgrounds, but this is CERTAINLY not what I want all my Disney pictures to capture me wearing...I mean this is FOREVER. I became very disturbed...to the point where my husband took my shopping for some new things. Hmmmmm...this is where is gets truly alarming.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHOP!! If I don't have the Chico's girl there to put it all together for me I am useless! I used to have quite the dangerous shopping habit, but now I am a shopping moron. I couldn't decide on a store...I couldn't decide on a style. I mean, you are walking a lot in Disney and I know I don't want to be in my bare feet because my stilettos (note: Stilettos are a bit of a stretch...high-heeled boots may be a little more accurate)gave me a blister...but I hate sneakers...with a passion. That leaves the tried and true flip flops...I am ok 14 hours walking in flip flops...really I am.
Ok, fast forward, we arrive at the mall. We go to Kohls...can't find anything long-day of walking picture worthy in there...Saw some distressed demin on their website, but they don't have them in stock yet...of course.
I am off with my beloved to walk the mall. Kirby always says graet things about American Eagle...Ok, I decide to try there. My husband feels like a pervert in there because most of the very short shorts would fit my 7 year old. But Kirby swears by the belts in there...I fond none worthy of buying. Besides I am having anxiety over my last visit to AE...Let me flashback to THAT lovely experience for a moment:
(Before Christmas) My mom and I and ALL THREE kids go to the mall jeans shopping. My friend Susan had some terrific looking distressed jeans on a preschool dro-off and she told me she got them at AE. She couldnt' share clothes with my 7 year old so I am hopeful that there will jeans for me at the store.
My kind (and slightly crazy) mother takes the children across the mall to the TOY STORE...ugh...while I head into AE. I am greated by the cutest little girl...really, I think she was 12...I just wanted to put "Tiffany" into my pocket and carry her home...she was really teeny.
Tiffany cheerfully...very cheerfully...asked my what I was looking for. I told her about Susan's distressed jeans and she lead me to a rack. I can hear my children ACROSS the mall laughing and being loud...I must speed this up. I say "Tiffany, I want these jeans" to which she replies..."this fit"? I asked about the fit...She says "Well, they are tighter in through the thighs...I am wearing them right now (I was unaware that they made children's sizes in AE)..." and then she said - Are you ready for it - "You can see that I don't have much of a butt so they fit me pretty well"...I just stood there for a moment and then replied "Can you show me the big booty jeans"...She lead me to the distressed jeans that might fit someone with some junk in their trunk a little more flatteringly (is that a word?). So, I look at them and they seem good...I say "I will take them". My little stick-figure friend replies "What size?" I take a deep breath because I don't want to tell this little twig what size I wear (although I am pretty comfortable with my size most of the time) and at the same time I can here my monsters heading my way. I quickly say "A size 13 please". Silence. Skinny says "Oh, we are going to have to SPECIAL ORDER that size"....That's right...SPECIAL FREAKIN' ORDER! She leads me to a phone in the sea of stick people and dials a number...tells the phone pencil-sized person (I'm sure) that I need a special size in the distressed jeans. She gives all my info including my size *gasp* and then hands the phone over to me who is standing there with a 4 year old hanging on my oversized unsytlish pants and a 2 year old crying in the stroller while my 7 year old says "Who are you talking to mommy"? I give my information and thankk Too-skinny...I mean Tiffany and head home. Thankfully the jeans were delivered to my door free of charge and I loved them. End of story.
(Back to the present) I leave AE unsatisfies...and call Kirby to tell him that he gives bad advice...and head over to JCPenney. I decide I am just "at that age"...stores like AE don't work for me anymore....except for that one pair of jeans. I find on cute tee in Penneys that has some cute saying about saving trees and stuff. So, there I was with one shirt to go to Disney...terrific.
I decide to try Aeropostale...I wasn't convinced that I was too old for this store because it is where I buy my most flattering jeans. So, we head in there and I run into #1's teacher. Well, surely if Mrs. E was in there then I wasn't too old...she has teenagers for crying out loud. I did consider the fact that she was shopping for her two teenage girls, but then she showed me what she was buying for HER so I felt better. I asked her daughters if I was too old for a half-sip beeded logo hoodie and they assured me that I was not...like they would tell me the truth anyway. Well, I ended up purchasing this
in two colors as well as coordinating tanks and these bermuda shorts.
I immediately came home, ordered the distressed denim shorts from Kohls
and put everything - including a few of my own tried and true items - into my suitcase. It is all in Georgia on it's way to Florida. I will see it when I arrive at Disney. My question...am I told old for these items? Please be honest! Please! Should I just bite the bullet and buy everything from "comfortable" stores?
I know that stores like Penneys and Kohls and others certainly have nice things, but they don't "feel" like me. I do occassionally buy from Chicos (more often then I should), but I really only like their winter stuff. I buy from Coldwater Creek because some of their stuff is a little trendier, but it is also harder to wear when you spend your days giving horsey rides and wiping the various body parts of short people (those being my children...I do not randomly approach vertically challenged people to wipe their various parts). Anyway, I welcome suggestions...and I think I may put up a vote on here...let me know. Shopping is on hold until I hear from you.
I can usually ignore this issue because i have three small children and that simply doens't allow me the freedom to go to the mall and spend lots of hours and lots of money. So, I usually get by with what I have which isn't hideous, but certainly won't put my on Parenting Magazine's Most Fashionable Mommies list anytime soon. (No, I don't think they have such a list, but it makes my point).
But, this issue can no longer be ignored. We are going to Disney and to see some family in Florida in a mere 5 weeks. My parents are already in Florida, having left this past afternoon Saturday. In the name of keeping my sanity at the airport, I packed and sent our suitcases with my parents in their RV. This seemed like a good idea at the time, but upon further inspection (on,say, Saturday morning)I realized that I had purchased the children SO many cute matching things (yep, on vacation I am THAT mom), but I had neglected to purchase myself anything...not even anything near-cute...nothing at all. I pulled out all my old things...and I do mean old in the literal sense...and was very dismayed to see that I existed last summer (when I thought I may have been pretty stylish) in layered wife-beaters and distresed denim capris/bermuda shorts. This may be ok for ramming around the playgrounds, but this is CERTAINLY not what I want all my Disney pictures to capture me wearing...I mean this is FOREVER. I became very disturbed...to the point where my husband took my shopping for some new things. Hmmmmm...this is where is gets truly alarming.
I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SHOP!! If I don't have the Chico's girl there to put it all together for me I am useless! I used to have quite the dangerous shopping habit, but now I am a shopping moron. I couldn't decide on a store...I couldn't decide on a style. I mean, you are walking a lot in Disney and I know I don't want to be in my bare feet because my stilettos (note: Stilettos are a bit of a stretch...high-heeled boots may be a little more accurate)gave me a blister...but I hate sneakers...with a passion. That leaves the tried and true flip flops...I am ok 14 hours walking in flip flops...really I am.
Ok, fast forward, we arrive at the mall. We go to Kohls...can't find anything long-day of walking picture worthy in there...Saw some distressed demin on their website, but they don't have them in stock yet...of course.
I am off with my beloved to walk the mall. Kirby always says graet things about American Eagle...Ok, I decide to try there. My husband feels like a pervert in there because most of the very short shorts would fit my 7 year old. But Kirby swears by the belts in there...I fond none worthy of buying. Besides I am having anxiety over my last visit to AE...Let me flashback to THAT lovely experience for a moment:
(Before Christmas) My mom and I and ALL THREE kids go to the mall jeans shopping. My friend Susan had some terrific looking distressed jeans on a preschool dro-off and she told me she got them at AE. She couldnt' share clothes with my 7 year old so I am hopeful that there will jeans for me at the store.
My kind (and slightly crazy) mother takes the children across the mall to the TOY STORE...ugh...while I head into AE. I am greated by the cutest little girl...really, I think she was 12...I just wanted to put "Tiffany" into my pocket and carry her home...she was really teeny.
Tiffany cheerfully...very cheerfully...asked my what I was looking for. I told her about Susan's distressed jeans and she lead me to a rack. I can hear my children ACROSS the mall laughing and being loud...I must speed this up. I say "Tiffany, I want these jeans" to which she replies..."this fit"? I asked about the fit...She says "Well, they are tighter in through the thighs...I am wearing them right now (I was unaware that they made children's sizes in AE)..." and then she said - Are you ready for it - "You can see that I don't have much of a butt so they fit me pretty well"...I just stood there for a moment and then replied "Can you show me the big booty jeans"...She lead me to the distressed jeans that might fit someone with some junk in their trunk a little more flatteringly (is that a word?). So, I look at them and they seem good...I say "I will take them". My little stick-figure friend replies "What size?" I take a deep breath because I don't want to tell this little twig what size I wear (although I am pretty comfortable with my size most of the time) and at the same time I can here my monsters heading my way. I quickly say "A size 13 please". Silence. Skinny says "Oh, we are going to have to SPECIAL ORDER that size"....That's right...SPECIAL FREAKIN' ORDER! She leads me to a phone in the sea of stick people and dials a number...tells the phone pencil-sized person (I'm sure) that I need a special size in the distressed jeans. She gives all my info including my size *gasp* and then hands the phone over to me who is standing there with a 4 year old hanging on my oversized unsytlish pants and a 2 year old crying in the stroller while my 7 year old says "Who are you talking to mommy"? I give my information and thankk Too-skinny...I mean Tiffany and head home. Thankfully the jeans were delivered to my door free of charge and I loved them. End of story.
(Back to the present) I leave AE unsatisfies...and call Kirby to tell him that he gives bad advice...and head over to JCPenney. I decide I am just "at that age"...stores like AE don't work for me anymore....except for that one pair of jeans. I find on cute tee in Penneys that has some cute saying about saving trees and stuff. So, there I was with one shirt to go to Disney...terrific.
I decide to try Aeropostale...I wasn't convinced that I was too old for this store because it is where I buy my most flattering jeans. So, we head in there and I run into #1's teacher. Well, surely if Mrs. E was in there then I wasn't too old...she has teenagers for crying out loud. I did consider the fact that she was shopping for her two teenage girls, but then she showed me what she was buying for HER so I felt better. I asked her daughters if I was too old for a half-sip beeded logo hoodie and they assured me that I was not...like they would tell me the truth anyway. Well, I ended up purchasing this
in two colors as well as coordinating tanks and these bermuda shorts.
I immediately came home, ordered the distressed denim shorts from Kohls
and put everything - including a few of my own tried and true items - into my suitcase. It is all in Georgia on it's way to Florida. I will see it when I arrive at Disney. My question...am I told old for these items? Please be honest! Please! Should I just bite the bullet and buy everything from "comfortable" stores?
I know that stores like Penneys and Kohls and others certainly have nice things, but they don't "feel" like me. I do occassionally buy from Chicos (more often then I should), but I really only like their winter stuff. I buy from Coldwater Creek because some of their stuff is a little trendier, but it is also harder to wear when you spend your days giving horsey rides and wiping the various body parts of short people (those being my children...I do not randomly approach vertically challenged people to wipe their various parts). Anyway, I welcome suggestions...and I think I may put up a vote on here...let me know. Shopping is on hold until I hear from you.
A SAD, SAD DAY (Posted in 2008)
I waited all day...or so it seemed. My appointment was really only at 2:15, but my handome 4 year old got me up at 4:22 am so 2:15 seemed like all day. Regardless, it was FINALLY time...My hair. My eyebrows...I was ready.
I hop in the van and head for my place of peace. I arrive at the salon a few minutes early...I want time to lie down on the comfy couch before I park my hiney in the spinny chair for 4 hours. As I recline I tell my good friends, Kirby and Delilah about my morning. They listen and joke. Before long it is my turn...
Into the spinny chair I go so Kirby can begin to squeeze my boring locks between pieces of foil to make them heart-stoppingly gorgeous...or at least more exciting. As he begins he speaks words that I prayed to never hear: "I got a new job". My heart sinks. Then it races. I am speechless. I had a feeling this day was coming. Kirby is talented. He is gifted. He is SKILLED. He took a part-time job less than a year ago working for a major hair supply company teaching color to salon owners and other stylists. He liked it. I knew he was good at it...how could he not be. But the day had come...even though he swore it would not. I didn't know what to say..."You're leaving me"? He just smiled and said "I have to...it is a great opportunity...a full-time job". I say "Well that just sucks".
So, as he went about foiling my hair and then giving me the extra-dirty hair washing I have come to look so forward to, I just enjoyed. I relaxed and took in all the wonderful things about Kirby and his shop...the big screen tv, the food, the drinks, the comfy couch, his tattoes, red spiky mohawk (kinda)...and the friendship.
I will miss you, Kirby...and don't worry Delilah, I will be in for the wax again soon...I love you both.
I hop in the van and head for my place of peace. I arrive at the salon a few minutes early...I want time to lie down on the comfy couch before I park my hiney in the spinny chair for 4 hours. As I recline I tell my good friends, Kirby and Delilah about my morning. They listen and joke. Before long it is my turn...
Into the spinny chair I go so Kirby can begin to squeeze my boring locks between pieces of foil to make them heart-stoppingly gorgeous...or at least more exciting. As he begins he speaks words that I prayed to never hear: "I got a new job". My heart sinks. Then it races. I am speechless. I had a feeling this day was coming. Kirby is talented. He is gifted. He is SKILLED. He took a part-time job less than a year ago working for a major hair supply company teaching color to salon owners and other stylists. He liked it. I knew he was good at it...how could he not be. But the day had come...even though he swore it would not. I didn't know what to say..."You're leaving me"? He just smiled and said "I have to...it is a great opportunity...a full-time job". I say "Well that just sucks".
So, as he went about foiling my hair and then giving me the extra-dirty hair washing I have come to look so forward to, I just enjoyed. I relaxed and took in all the wonderful things about Kirby and his shop...the big screen tv, the food, the drinks, the comfy couch, his tattoes, red spiky mohawk (kinda)...and the friendship.
I will miss you, Kirby...and don't worry Delilah, I will be in for the wax again soon...I love you both.
The Wizard and The Goddess (Posted 2008)
I love my hair people. I mean I REALLY love my hair people. I love having my hair done. I don't know which part if my favorite...probably the washing. My Hair Wizard gives a great hair washing. I always make sure to tell him that my hair is extra dirty so that he has to scrub it twice. I think he just does it to be nice.
I met Kirby for the first time when my former hair stylist of 18 years went to Vegas for an extended vacation and I had roots...I mean LOTS of roots. My friend Sara had been singing the praises of Kirby and Delilah for months and I have to tell you that I was intrigued...her hair always looked fabulous. The roots were looking particularly bad one day so I fished out the business card. There is was in my hand...cheating on my hairstylist...almost like cheating on a spouse. I mean, I had been with her longer than Dave. It felt unfaithful. It felt dirty. But my hair was looking pretty ridiculous so I made the call. The Eyebrow Goddess took my information and there it was...my first appointment with Kirby.
I showed up and nearly turned around and left. The pair that greeted me were not quite was I was expecting. Kirby looked like Prince Harry...except taller...and tattoed...Really tattoed...his arms were covered with them. Did I mention that he had a mohawk...well, kinda. And Delilah...she was also quite tattoed (on the back of her neck? MUST have hurt!) and also wearing camoflauge. Women in camo have been known to scare me a little bit...unless it's pink...nobody wearing pink fatigues can really be taken as any sort of serious threat. But she was wearing ACTUAL camoflauge...scary. (Did I mention that SHE was going to put hot wax on my face to remove unwanted hair? At this point I was thinking that I should have done a scouting trip first). So when my mohawked, tattoed, soon-to-be-permanently-coloring-my-hair hair guy asked how I was I immediately replied all honesty "I am terrified...anxiety ridden...I haven't eaten all day..." He laughed and patted my shoulder "You will be fine". And I was.
What I thought was going to be a stressful 3 hours turned into a fun-filled 4 1/2 hour visit. The time passed quickly...as it turns out Kirby and Delilah and I got along famously. It was great. Then he was finished. It was time for the "great reveal". He turned me around and I just stared. (There may have been a gasp)...My hair looked EXACTLY like it always had. No mohawk...no weirdo red coloring in it...Not too dark...not to light...perfection.
Now, you must understand. I am not really a vain person. I just really like my hair to look nice. (If you must know the truth I have a bit of a make-up habit too.)If your hair (and make-up)looks great it doesn't matter if your wearing a ratty old track suit and beat up sneakers. Hair (and make-up) never makes you feel fat. I really feel like hair (and make-up) is important. It is my one (or two)splurge(s)...and at Kirby's it isn't really even a splurge. I was thrilled to find out that he charged less that my former hair person.
So, I am going to the Hair Wizard and the Eyebrown Goddess...tomorrow. I am SO excited. I will tell you the truth...I love it there. I love them. Really...I do. I now take all my kids there for haircuts...on separate days to maximize visitation with my skilled friends. They have an incrediblly comfy couch that I have been known to plop down on and not get up for a ridiculously long period of time. They have a big screen TV and Delilah knows exactly what channels the best cartoons are on. They have an endless candy supply...and they even like my kids...I am pretty sure. I have referred 5 or 6 of my friends to go there. I don't know why...I totally should have kept them as my secret. I have even had a problem getting an appointment a time or two...I was VERY unhappy about that. My mom comes from 1 1/2 hours away to visit the Wizard...he is THAT good.
But when it is MY turn it is me and me alone. Nobody is allowed to accompany me. It is my favorite 4 1/2 hours every couple of months...and not just because of the INCREDIBLE hairwashing. I am going to go to sleep now and dream of slean, well-cut, beautifully died hair with even well-arched eyebrows to match. I will post some pictures tomorrow...after my pampering session.
I met Kirby for the first time when my former hair stylist of 18 years went to Vegas for an extended vacation and I had roots...I mean LOTS of roots. My friend Sara had been singing the praises of Kirby and Delilah for months and I have to tell you that I was intrigued...her hair always looked fabulous. The roots were looking particularly bad one day so I fished out the business card. There is was in my hand...cheating on my hairstylist...almost like cheating on a spouse. I mean, I had been with her longer than Dave. It felt unfaithful. It felt dirty. But my hair was looking pretty ridiculous so I made the call. The Eyebrow Goddess took my information and there it was...my first appointment with Kirby.
I showed up and nearly turned around and left. The pair that greeted me were not quite was I was expecting. Kirby looked like Prince Harry...except taller...and tattoed...Really tattoed...his arms were covered with them. Did I mention that he had a mohawk...well, kinda. And Delilah...she was also quite tattoed (on the back of her neck? MUST have hurt!) and also wearing camoflauge. Women in camo have been known to scare me a little bit...unless it's pink...nobody wearing pink fatigues can really be taken as any sort of serious threat. But she was wearing ACTUAL camoflauge...scary. (Did I mention that SHE was going to put hot wax on my face to remove unwanted hair? At this point I was thinking that I should have done a scouting trip first). So when my mohawked, tattoed, soon-to-be-permanently-coloring-my-hair hair guy asked how I was I immediately replied all honesty "I am terrified...anxiety ridden...I haven't eaten all day..." He laughed and patted my shoulder "You will be fine". And I was.
What I thought was going to be a stressful 3 hours turned into a fun-filled 4 1/2 hour visit. The time passed quickly...as it turns out Kirby and Delilah and I got along famously. It was great. Then he was finished. It was time for the "great reveal". He turned me around and I just stared. (There may have been a gasp)...My hair looked EXACTLY like it always had. No mohawk...no weirdo red coloring in it...Not too dark...not to light...perfection.
Now, you must understand. I am not really a vain person. I just really like my hair to look nice. (If you must know the truth I have a bit of a make-up habit too.)If your hair (and make-up)looks great it doesn't matter if your wearing a ratty old track suit and beat up sneakers. Hair (and make-up) never makes you feel fat. I really feel like hair (and make-up) is important. It is my one (or two)splurge(s)...and at Kirby's it isn't really even a splurge. I was thrilled to find out that he charged less that my former hair person.
So, I am going to the Hair Wizard and the Eyebrown Goddess...tomorrow. I am SO excited. I will tell you the truth...I love it there. I love them. Really...I do. I now take all my kids there for haircuts...on separate days to maximize visitation with my skilled friends. They have an incrediblly comfy couch that I have been known to plop down on and not get up for a ridiculously long period of time. They have a big screen TV and Delilah knows exactly what channels the best cartoons are on. They have an endless candy supply...and they even like my kids...I am pretty sure. I have referred 5 or 6 of my friends to go there. I don't know why...I totally should have kept them as my secret. I have even had a problem getting an appointment a time or two...I was VERY unhappy about that. My mom comes from 1 1/2 hours away to visit the Wizard...he is THAT good.
But when it is MY turn it is me and me alone. Nobody is allowed to accompany me. It is my favorite 4 1/2 hours every couple of months...and not just because of the INCREDIBLE hairwashing. I am going to go to sleep now and dream of slean, well-cut, beautifully died hair with even well-arched eyebrows to match. I will post some pictures tomorrow...after my pampering session.
We had a DAY! (Posted 2008)
I was in a HORRIBLE mood last night. I baby-sat the neighbor kids...they are good kids, but 5 kids tends to be a lot. Not to mention I did some running of both my kids and theirs...to school...from school...to play practice...to voice lessons...you get the idea. So, I was tired...and GRUMPY. Dave called and asked if I minded if he went out with work friends. My response? "No! Go! Why would we BOTH want to expose ourselves to this insanity? Run like the wind, my love". (Yes, that was ACTUALLY my response. He just said thanks and ended the call...quickly.) So anyway, I just wanted to go to bed. My kids, however, definitely did not. This was "one of those nights" where I tried everything...you know the nights...bribery, threats, punishments...I was on the verge of using guilt-by-crying when they finally relented and went to sleep. No joke, I actually yelled (which I really hardly ever do...truly) "I am GRUMPY...GRUMPY GRUMPY GRUMPY (maybe a foot stomp there?)...I am sorry, but I will make it up to you tomorrow. GO TO SLEEP...NOW!". After I had been up and down about 1,236 times the girls were settled in their rooms and the boy...next to me...rubbing my marble (see earlier posts).
At 2:30 am #3 cried. Woke #1. Dave is WORKING!?! at the kitchen table...insomnia, I guess. Didn't bother to even address him as I grabbed the cough syrup and headed up to drug the baby (who is actually 2 and got only the recommended dosage...no more even though it may have helped MY sleep). Before leaving the girls' room #1 asked me how I intended to make my miserable attitude up to them...I told her I hadn't thought about it yet and she accepted that and went back to sleep. Thank God! Back to bed I go...not to sleep but to consider what I can do that is wonderfully fun for my kiddos the next day. I finally drifted off with images of a hands-on museum or a trip to the Baltimore Aquarium...Yeah, my mood was that bad.
My little friends woke me at 5:55 am...not good. I am not a farmer for a REASON. I believe in sleeping until AFTER the sun gets up. Nevertheless, here we are awake before the sun is up...and I have not yet decided what I want to do with my blessings. My husband is still sleeping at 9:30 because he worked late into the night. So, now I am wondering what I can do with the little dears on my own...not much different from a weekday. The pressure. #1 asks me again what I have planned. I told her I honestly hadn't made up my mind. She responds that she would love to go to Borders and then Olive Garden for lunch. #2 JUMPS on that idea...YEAH, I think we have a plan.
I shower and get dressed...Loudly. Surprisingly (ok, not so surprising as I had the three kids and the dog in the bedroom with me), my beloved wakes up. I tell him of our plan and he quickly readies himself. Let me tell you right now that we are not a terribly restaurant-friendly family. Food hits the floor...children fuss...#2 only has one volume of speaking and let's just say it isn't a library voice. We haven't been out as a unit in a while...but we have our game faces on and we are off.
The drive...beautiful. Our chatterboxes joking with us in the van. Sun shining bright (32 degrees, though). It was bliss. (I think I heard birds singing).
We got to the Olive Garden which is RIGHT next Borders. Our plan was to hurry up and be the first ones in the restaurant, order everything (including the check)as soon as the waitress approaches and pray...a lot. Well, we arrived at the restaurant and it wasn't open yet...who knew that people don't want to eat Italian at 10:42 am? So we move from Plan A and onto Plan B...the bookstore. SHOCKINGLY the children choose their books in record time...It really was a record-setting event. We check-out...a bit stressful as #3 is trying to get out of the stroller (Dave lost a few ounces doing laps around the bookstore), #2 wants me to get out of line to check out the "ugliest stuffed animal that he ever wanted to buy" and #1 wants to READ her book IN line...to me.
Items purchased. Moving on to the restaurant.
I was a little apprehensive because it was now 11:23 and rapidly approaching peak lunch time. We head in. THERE IS A WAIT...Dave starts to sweat. I have a brainstorm and actually pull out the new books we just purchased. I plopped my starving hiney on the floor next to the stroller and read to #3 while #1 reads to Dave and #2. The kids are rally hungry...I knew we were going to a restaurant and I wanted them to actaully eat so we had LIGHT breakfasts. Then it happens. We see it...the beautiful red flashing announcing that our table for 5 is ready. We gather our things and our people and we are off.
**Still refusing to jinx myself with thoughts of success**
We sit and the waitress doesn't come...and doesn't come...I look at Dave who is rapidly coming to the end of #2's book and say "Lord, I pray this waitress doesn't take too long and ruin our meal..." The waitress AT THAT MOMENT walk up and asks us what we would like. My reply "I would like water with lemon, 3 chocolate milks, a water - no lemon - for him (Dave), an order of mac 'n' cheese for these two to share, chicken nugget meal for her (#1), soup, salad and breadsticks for my...minestrone soup and then whatever he wants (Pointing to who is looking a little shocked at my spiel). If you could bring the check with the meal that would be great. Thank you Stef." She smiled knowingly, took Dave's order and walked away. She brought our food with the check in about 10 minutes...a very peaceful 10 minutes. Twenty minutes later plates were clean, bill was paid and we were on our way home. It was at this point that I finally allowed myself a feeling of success. It was beautiful.
We ALL took 2 hour naps. We woke up. We walked our furry friend, Brutus. We had some dinner and played family board games. It was an amazing day. I don't think one person cried all day. Everyone was kind and loving to one another. The children were grateful...which is a miracle in itself. Now they are all watching a movie with Dave so I can have a few minutes to type this for all of you...or Kate...who may be the only person who reads this right now...LOVE YOU KATE!
Tomorrow morning is Sunday School and church which challenges us each week. But, you know, after today I think we will be just fine.
At 2:30 am #3 cried. Woke #1. Dave is WORKING!?! at the kitchen table...insomnia, I guess. Didn't bother to even address him as I grabbed the cough syrup and headed up to drug the baby (who is actually 2 and got only the recommended dosage...no more even though it may have helped MY sleep). Before leaving the girls' room #1 asked me how I intended to make my miserable attitude up to them...I told her I hadn't thought about it yet and she accepted that and went back to sleep. Thank God! Back to bed I go...not to sleep but to consider what I can do that is wonderfully fun for my kiddos the next day. I finally drifted off with images of a hands-on museum or a trip to the Baltimore Aquarium...Yeah, my mood was that bad.
My little friends woke me at 5:55 am...not good. I am not a farmer for a REASON. I believe in sleeping until AFTER the sun gets up. Nevertheless, here we are awake before the sun is up...and I have not yet decided what I want to do with my blessings. My husband is still sleeping at 9:30 because he worked late into the night. So, now I am wondering what I can do with the little dears on my own...not much different from a weekday. The pressure. #1 asks me again what I have planned. I told her I honestly hadn't made up my mind. She responds that she would love to go to Borders and then Olive Garden for lunch. #2 JUMPS on that idea...YEAH, I think we have a plan.
I shower and get dressed...Loudly. Surprisingly (ok, not so surprising as I had the three kids and the dog in the bedroom with me), my beloved wakes up. I tell him of our plan and he quickly readies himself. Let me tell you right now that we are not a terribly restaurant-friendly family. Food hits the floor...children fuss...#2 only has one volume of speaking and let's just say it isn't a library voice. We haven't been out as a unit in a while...but we have our game faces on and we are off.
The drive...beautiful. Our chatterboxes joking with us in the van. Sun shining bright (32 degrees, though). It was bliss. (I think I heard birds singing).
We got to the Olive Garden which is RIGHT next Borders. Our plan was to hurry up and be the first ones in the restaurant, order everything (including the check)as soon as the waitress approaches and pray...a lot. Well, we arrived at the restaurant and it wasn't open yet...who knew that people don't want to eat Italian at 10:42 am? So we move from Plan A and onto Plan B...the bookstore. SHOCKINGLY the children choose their books in record time...It really was a record-setting event. We check-out...a bit stressful as #3 is trying to get out of the stroller (Dave lost a few ounces doing laps around the bookstore), #2 wants me to get out of line to check out the "ugliest stuffed animal that he ever wanted to buy" and #1 wants to READ her book IN line...to me.
Items purchased. Moving on to the restaurant.
I was a little apprehensive because it was now 11:23 and rapidly approaching peak lunch time. We head in. THERE IS A WAIT...Dave starts to sweat. I have a brainstorm and actually pull out the new books we just purchased. I plopped my starving hiney on the floor next to the stroller and read to #3 while #1 reads to Dave and #2. The kids are rally hungry...I knew we were going to a restaurant and I wanted them to actaully eat so we had LIGHT breakfasts. Then it happens. We see it...the beautiful red flashing announcing that our table for 5 is ready. We gather our things and our people and we are off.
**Still refusing to jinx myself with thoughts of success**
We sit and the waitress doesn't come...and doesn't come...I look at Dave who is rapidly coming to the end of #2's book and say "Lord, I pray this waitress doesn't take too long and ruin our meal..." The waitress AT THAT MOMENT walk up and asks us what we would like. My reply "I would like water with lemon, 3 chocolate milks, a water - no lemon - for him (Dave), an order of mac 'n' cheese for these two to share, chicken nugget meal for her (#1), soup, salad and breadsticks for my...minestrone soup and then whatever he wants (Pointing to who is looking a little shocked at my spiel). If you could bring the check with the meal that would be great. Thank you Stef." She smiled knowingly, took Dave's order and walked away. She brought our food with the check in about 10 minutes...a very peaceful 10 minutes. Twenty minutes later plates were clean, bill was paid and we were on our way home. It was at this point that I finally allowed myself a feeling of success. It was beautiful.
We ALL took 2 hour naps. We woke up. We walked our furry friend, Brutus. We had some dinner and played family board games. It was an amazing day. I don't think one person cried all day. Everyone was kind and loving to one another. The children were grateful...which is a miracle in itself. Now they are all watching a movie with Dave so I can have a few minutes to type this for all of you...or Kate...who may be the only person who reads this right now...LOVE YOU KATE!
Tomorrow morning is Sunday School and church which challenges us each week. But, you know, after today I think we will be just fine.
