Kalamazoo Mom of 2

Tis the Season ... or Not

2011-12-20T16:54:00.001-05:00

I am CERTAIN that I have mentioned here before exactly how I feel about the post office. Or, should I say, how I feel about GOING to the post office.

Me no likey. At all.

And during the holidays .... Oy.

BUT - Tis the season, right? AND, the packages that needed mailing were actually from the Princess. She took her own money to her school's "Holiday Store".

(Fa La La La Language Alert: "Holiday Store" is code for overpriced piece of shit trinkets that usually break upon opening. But, Tis the season, and she is always so proud of these pieces of ... er, I mean ... treasures....)

So, after the holiday store shopping (which was a week ago ... yeah, Mom of The Year here), she got off the bus clutching her treasures. So proud. All she asked was that I mail them to the recipients for her.

Ugh.... er, I mean, SURE HONEY, NO PROBLEM ... I LOVE THE POST OFFICE!!

Tis the Season, after all.

So, today was the day. I had it all figured out. I had a plan that, I was certain would outsmart the other parcel sending schmucks who would for sure be standing in line to see an "agent".

I however, would blow in, grab 2 small flat rate boxes (see, I even know the lingo), chuck the pieces of .... I mean TREASURES in, go to the self help (yes, I see the irony right there) station thingy (ok, so I don't know ALL the lingo), push some buttons, swipe my card, AND GO!!!

Sounds like a terrific and FOOLproof plan, yes?! I thought so too.

Turns out, I am NOT the only one that knew about the flat rate boxes and the self- help thingy.

Also - little tip - there are NO PENS at the self help thingy. Apparently, it is proper etiquette to have pre-retrieved said boxes, folded them properly (which I now know requires an engineering degree), place items for shipping in them, and seal & address them, ALL PRIOR TO SELF HELP THINGY ARRIVAL.

And I am living (thankfully) proof that the other holiday self helpers expect EVERYONE to know, understand and adhere to these rules.

I have never been a big fan of the rules.

(And don't even get me started on all the questions the electronic self help thingy asks, all while the stares of the shipping patrons behind you burn holes in the back of your head. By the way, what idiot actually answers yes to the 6 paragraph question that asks if whatever your shipping contains dangerous liquids or explosives?!!)

So, to the eye-rolling twenty-something in slippers that let me borrow her pen: Thank you, Merry Christmas, and put some shoes on.

And, to the angry elf with the engineering degree and obvious asthma problem (he kept huffing and exhaling loudly and deliberately as I S-L-O-W-L-Y typed the destination zip code. Secretly, I wanted to see if my "speed" could make him hyperventilate): thank you for yanking the box out of my hand, causing a cardboard cut on my middle finger (which is what I was showing you, btw, I swear), you clearly saw I was struggling, and were overwhelmed with the Christmas spirit causing you to so graciously help. So, thank you, too.

Tis the Season.

I'd likely have a completely different outlook on the whole experience were it not for a pig-tailed, dimpled, adorable 3 year old who watched the whole exchange above (quietly and patiently, I might add), and as I walked toward her to leave, simply said, "Those packages were BEAUTIFUL. Whoever you sent them to will LOVE them. Merry Christmas!"

My eyes hugged that child, and as I looked up at the mom, I actually had tears in my eyes and could utter only these words, "What an angel. Merry Christmas."

And she's right. They're treasures because of the heart that chose them.

Tis the Season.

-- Post From My iPhone

I fought the law, and the law won.

2011-09-14T16:57:00.010-04:00

FACT:
I got a speeding ticket this summer.

FACT:
I qualified for one of those Basic Driver Improvement Courses to keep the points off my record (YAY!).

FACT:
The deadline to complete the course is FRIDAY. Crap.

(Yes, it's been like 2 months since the "infraction"; yes, they offer these courses online (thank God); No, I don't REALLY need it, I'm an excellent driver.)

So, this course thingy says it takes at least FOUR HOURS to complete ..... and I'm thinking, "Hey, I'm smarter than the average bear, I bet I can knock this out in an hour or two -- they always overestimate stuff like this ..."

I "click here to register" ...

I pay my money ...

I start the course ...

Then, I find out that I am, in fact, not smarter than the technology contained within the "course" that REQUIRES a minimum amount of time be spent on EACH SECTION. (And here I thought the breakdown in the beginning was an estimate, or a suggestion -- "Part 1: 5 minutes; Part 2: 15 minutes; Part 3: 30 minutes ....." and so on. FYI, there are 7 or 8 parts. Oy.) I fly through Part 1, click through to take the quiz for that section, and am met with a screen telling me I need to spend some more time "studying" the contents of the section ... it even gives me the EXACT NUMBER OF MINUTES before I'll be able to attempt to take the quiz.

Sonofa ....

I've said this before, I am a slow learner.
I am currently through Part 4, and with EACH AND EVERY SECTION, I have tried to take the quiz before completing the required amount of time studying (which surely comes as NO SHOCK to anyone that went to school with me). And, shockingly (only to me), I am met with the "annoying screen of time suck" (as I now affectionately refer to it) each time.

Here's another cool (READ: Effing Annoying) feature to this online "course": At the start, it asks you a set of "personal questions", for "security purposes" ... About 5 minutes into Part 1, I found out why/how those personal questions are put to use:
This yellow box appears at the top of the screen, and in teeny tiny black font, there's some blinking text -- it's the kind of thing that can be easily dismissed as an ad, or pop up window to be ignored. And, while it CAN be dismissed, I now know that it should NOT be ignored. See, the teeny tiny text is one of those "personal questions", and, if the correct answer (as supplied in the beginning) isn't provided within what can best be described as a VERY SHORT PERIOD OF TIME, this oh-so-intelligent online driving improvement course IMMEDIATELY LOGS YOU OUT OF THE SYSTEM! The kicker is, when you log back in, while you are, in fact, returned to the section where you were when you got chucked offline, it takes you back to PAGE ONE of that section (annoying and inconvenient if you were on page 20).

Sarcasm Alert: I'm certain the purpose of this course is to provide useful information for those of us that are clearly threats on the road, but you tell me how effective it is when these are the two facts I've come away with so far in my "studies":

1. According to this test, sniffing Rubber Cement can be considered a "controlled substance"; and,
2. When asking the question, "What major organs are affected most by alcohol?", the answers they are looking for (there are 3, by the way), do NOT include "penis". (For you curious types, the correct answers are brain, liver, stomach. See, I am trainable.)

Irony Alert: So, my punishment for SPEEDING is to take this course -- And, I continue to attempt to complete it too quickly (not unlike my driving).

See? Slow. Learner.

Determination

2011-07-19T18:50:00.005-04:00

Our family kinda likes hockey. :) So, it's likely no surprise to anyone that knows us that Princess is attending hockey camp this week. Bronco Hockey Camp, no less. She's been attending Bronco hockey games since she was in the womb, and watched her Uncle Bean play. Literally, the kid paid attention to what was going on on the ice as an infant - true story. She knew the fight song at two years old. She is a TOTAL Bronco Hockey fan.

So, imagine her delight at attending camp ALL week, ALL DAY, every day -- not to mention that her camp counselors, are current Broncos.

Dude, the kid is in HEAVEN. Seriously.

She is one of the youngest in the camp, and one of only 2 girls in her age group (10 & under), so I gave her the whole "Be respectful - Use your manners - LISTEN - Do what you're told - yada yada yada" speech prior to the start of camp yesterday morning.

Imagine my delight when, at the end of the day, one of the guys told me that she and the other girl were GREAT - the best listeners of the whole day! WAHOO!!!!

Now, because she is one of the youngest, she also happens to require A LOT more help with equipment. So, I spent the better part of yesterday driving to and from the rink every time she needed to be dressed/undressed/redressed to or from hockey equipment, street clothes, and her bathing suit.

Needless to say, I didn't get a whole heck of a lot else done.

The coaches and the counselors kept telling me that they could handle assisting her, and that I didn't have to keep coming back. Even Lynn - the Bronco Hockey Admin Assistant from Heaven (yes, that's her official title) told me she'd be on hand for anything that required female assistance. So, today, I listened, and just dropped her off and picked her up.

And, of course, mommy missed a milestone ....

Background:
My kids LOVE swimming. They come by it pretty naturally; I could swim before I could walk, and ALL of their grandparents have a pool, a lake, or both.
Yesterday I decided to stay and watch the beginning of the camp pool time - honestly, I HAD to stay for my own piece of mind. I needed to see how many lifeguards were there, how they handled that many little kids, etc. I watched as the line of kids interested in jumping off any of the three diving boards were "tested" to see if they'd be allowed. Princess was in that group. And, while she is a complete fish in a smaller and less chaotic environment, I watched her jump into the deep end, "swim" maybe five feet, and then ask for help getting out. I then watched her walk over to the shallow end, put on a life jacket, and go play with a beach ball with the other shallow-enders.

I gotta admit, I was TOTALLY fine leaving that building knowing that she was in a life jacket.

But all Princess could talk about after camp yesterday was how much she wanted to jump off the diving board .... the HIGH DIVE.

Holy shit, I about convulsed (story coming in a sec), but quickly settled myself by thinking about what I'd witnessed earlier in the day. I was seriously convinced that there was no way in hell that she'd go from swimming less than five feet to swimming 25 meters (ish) just to jump off a diving board. No. Way. In. Hell.

(This where you can check the title of this post again.)

(This is also where I'll tell the quick story of a four or five year old me, hanging with my mom who was life guarding in Potomac, MD one summer day. I wanted to go off the high dive. Mon said, "That's fine. But, once you get up there, you can't walk back down. You go up, you jump off. Understand?" Well, I got up there, saw how shallow the water looked and froze. Mom was motioning for me to jump. Then she did it with that "look" us moms give. Nothing. I was still frozen. She blew her whistle, cleared the pool, and climbed up the ladder. I was SO RELIEVED TO SEE HER. That is, until I saw the look up close. WOW was she pissed. My thoughts of being escorted back down the ladder were short-lived. She took my wrists, said "Toes on the edge. And when you get down there, swim to the side and go sit by my chair. No more swimming for you today." With that, she counted to three and "assisted" by dropping me over the edge of the board. We both spent the rest of the day pretty miffed with the other.)

Fast forward to my apprehension about Princess. But again, I was convinced there was no way I had anything to worry about.

As I tucked her in last night she said, "Mom, tomorrow, I'm gonna jump in that pool, swim ALL THE WAY across, and then I WILL go on that high diving board."

I so totally should have listened -- and believed.

When I picked her up today, she said, "Hey, Mom, guess what? I did it."

ME: "Did what sweetie?"

HER: "Mom it was so cool. I wanted to go on the diving board so bad. I jumped in the pool, and I started swimming. And, my coaches - they were all yelling for me - and I swam all the way to the other side!"

(The complete self-satisfaction brought tears to my eyes. And the fact that the counselors cheered for her is just heart-meltingly adorable.)

ME: "Wow sweetie, you did? - That is GREAT!"

HER: "And then you know what I did?"

ME: "Did you try the little diving board?"

HER: "Uh, no."

ME: (GIANT SIGH OF RELIEF)

HER: "I walked right over to the big one and jumped off."

ME: (Disbelief. Slight cardiac arrest. Shock. Awe.)

Talk about determination. She was so proud of herself - it was amazing. And, I am so bummed I missed it (still say someone would have had to administer CPR however).

She's six, and teaching me life lessons everyday. Love that kid.

** For the record, Daddy predicted today's accomplishment at about 3pm yesterday after popping in to check on her and finding her staring longingly at the kids in the other pool having diving board fun. He needed no CPR either day, and his reply upon hearing the news? "Told you." Score 1 for daddy.

SON OF A .....

2011-07-14T13:25:00.001-04:00

My old (as in former, not advanced-in-age, necessarily) morning show partner used this phrase, A LOT: "Joker. Joker. And a triple."

I have adopted it, used it in MANY instances over the years, and NOW, I can say, I have lived it (in it's sarcastic form, that is).

JOKER:
Not long ago, I received a speeding ticket, from a condescending and "disrespectful" (according to my 6 yr old) cop. After walking back to his car, Princess asked, "Mom, why would he keep asking you questions when he CLEARLY didn't want to hear an answer?" Good question, kiddo. (Despite WANTING to respond with, "Because he's an asshat, sweetie." ... I simply shrugged and said, "Maybe he's having a bad day.")

JOKER:
Storms ripped through our area on Monday and our neighbor's tree fell on our house. Our neighbor left the day before for Alaska. Irony Alert: Last summer when he and the wife were in Alaska, another neighbor's tree fell on their house. Bottom line - henceforth, said neighbor is no longer allowed to travel to Alaska. Seems reasonable, yes? (BTW, we are all fine, tree is no longer ON the house, BUT it is still sitting in the yard...)

AND THE TRIPLE:
Kids and I were rear-ended while at a DEAD STOP, sitting at a red light, waiting to turn right. The kicker? Lady that hit us was driving a car she's in the PROCESS of buying, and had NO paperwork (registration, proof of insurance, etc.); She had a handicapped sticker hanging from her mirror (said she's been disabled for 10 years - she walked and talked just fine so not sure what the disability is) AND, this is my "favorite" part, she is a pregnant SMOKER!

PS - Good thing our insurance guy is someone that I've known for a LONG time. I can only imagine his reaction to the voicemail I just left that started with, "Hi. It's Reggie (that's what he calls me), I know you called to answer my questions about tree removal and roofing bids, but I can't talk right now, I'm waiting for the cops to show up because I just got rear-ended by a lady with no insurance ....)

Can't make this stuff up.

And, to Mother Nature, Lady Luck, or anyone else that's listening, I OFFICIALLY CALL "UNCLE!"

Please. And, thank you.

-- Post From My iPhone

For My Dad

2011-06-19T08:00:00.000-04:00

On this, Father's Day 2011, a note for my Dad about memories, love and thanks:

I remember ...

Watching you play football when I was maybe 4 or 5, and you were in law school. The best part was getting to "play", too for a while with you when the games were over. The red NC State blanket that now sits on the chair in your family room will forever bring me back to those times -- it's what I used to sit on to watch you.

You teaching me to ride my bike outside the old townhouse, and telling me NOT to ride down the big hill. I didn't listen, and when I fell (hard), I remember you were there to pick up the pieces and ensured I got back on my bike.
And, while I'm still not a big fan of hearing someone say I can't do something, when I fall, I get up and try again.

Countless summer nights at Softball City and the fields in Canton. The fact that I could keep score at 8 years old surprised lots of opposing teams -- but I remember how proudly you'd answer, "She'll be fine -- she might even be able to help out your scorekeeper if you need it." No wonder I'm such a smartass. I remember those ugly ass Rebels uniforms, and developing an unnatural (for my age) dislike for those pesky (read: asshatish) Rusty Nail teams. I'll have you know, I have never stepped foot in that place as a result. True story. I had several opportunities (when I was over 21, of course) to grab pizza and beer there, and could never bring myself to go in.

Everytime I go to The Joe, still, I remember the Saturdays that I'd go to the office with you and how grown up I felt. Driving past JLA and through the "Cobo tunnel" was my favorite part of the drive downtown. And, feeding my pen and paper obsession by allowing me access to the office supply room was almost as cool as the day you let me ride the Ren Cen elevator myself. I could have ridden that thing all day just taking in the view over the river.

Our Christmas tree cutting excursions to Jackson ... and, your childish antics on the way one year resulting in me never again being able to order those boxes of little choc chip cookies from McDonald's without hearing you SINGING the words, "COW PATTY!!!"

Our ski trips with the boys. Burying lunches and going balls to the wall for the whole day, just you and me ("Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads..."). By the way, I am the age now that you were the year we followed those silly asses into the treeline that wasn't meant for skiing. Those two are still silly asses -- you and I are just old. :)

I could say "thank you" forever ...

Thank you for telling me jokes while walking down the aisle to give me away. And, thank you for escorting your little girl and her groom to their car that night, arm-in-arm, telling us how happy you were and reminding us that, no matter how tough the road gets, always remember how we felt right then and to channel that love and energy when we'd need it most.

Thank you for not only loving my kids -- but for showing them. Watching them laugh and play with you makes my heart smile.

The fact that, when asked, the ONLY thing I could ever come up with having wanted while growing up but never receiving, was a unicycle. And then, on my 40th birthday, having the waiter at one of my favorite restaurants wheel in a unicycle with a big pink bow to our table. The look on my face had to be second only to that of the guy sitting at the table behind me.

October 1st and August 18th. With all my heart I thank you for those two dates. Truly.

All those years I tested my wings (and your patience) and fell, your safety net of support and unconditional love allowed me to get up, dust myself off, and try again. And again. And, sometimes, again. So today, I honor you and say thank you, for helping me learn how to fly.

I love you, Dad,

S

What Goes Around, Comes Around (especially for a smartass)

2011-06-16T19:32:00.003-04:00

SPOILER ALERT: I can be a bit of a smartass.

And (to likely the shock of no one in my life), it's coming back to bite me.

See, in our family, when a kid trips, or falls, or, in general, "bonks" as kids do, the typical response is the adult "on duty" throws their arms out like an umpire calling a play at the plate and yells, "SAFE!".

My dad did it. My mom did it. I do it.

Well, as a parent, I have taken liberties with this particular tactic, and have tweaked it a bit while applying it to other areas. Instead of following the kids around and freaking out at what can, at times, appear like their best attempts to end their own lives (think aerials off furniture or play sets), I have a set of (smartassish) questions I ask depending on the situation. The questions look and sound a lot like these:

"Hey, Princess, when you fall and whack your head on that pile of stuff you insist of jumping over, instead of walking around, what color band-aid do you want on the stitches?"

OR ...

"Little Man, I KNOW I've told you that it's NOT a good idea to jump from the chair to the couch - so, when you fall and hurt yourself, how many stitches do you think it'll take to fix?"

There are other variations, but you get the idea, yes?

So imagine my surprise this evening when, after going potty before bedtime, Little Man thinks the best course of action is to hop, yes HOP, with shoes on and pants down around his ankles, from the bathroom to his bedroom. Because, well, ya know, what with all the corners and doorways and all, what could possibly go wrong?

So, as he hops on by and the visual sinks in (with me), I shout, "DUDE!?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" And then I pause, and begin to say, "Hey, question for ya ..." but I am almost immediately interrupted.
His curly little head pops out of his room and he peers down the hallway at me. Then, he actually rolled his eyes while uttering, "I know. I know. I KNOW! I shouldn't do that. Sorry. Oh, and, if I fell, it would only take 1 stitch, but LOTS of band aids. And, I'd like orange ones."

He's four. And, I am in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE.

All this time, I thought they were ignoring me ...

What's that saying: "Do as I say, not as I do"? ... Yeah, well, I've decided that saying ... can bite me.

"H" is for Hashtags, Hockey and Happiness

2011-06-15T14:30:00.003-04:00

My cousin said I needed to blog; said it'd been too long.

Holy crap, over two months?! Maybe she's right.

So, without further ado, and with no real message, outline or agenda, here it is, Cousin H, a random, rambling blog post just for you:

We have a hammock in the backyard now. It was a wedding gift from a dear friend, and it only took us 12 years (almost) to hang it. And, WE LOVE IT!! How's THAT for gift longevity? Note to self: Fastest way to get hubby to do manly, power tool stuff? Send text asking where the drill is and what, exactly a 3/16" drill bit is and how to tell if you're drilling backwards. :)

No matter how much one enjoys wine, there is a point at which dumping it down the sink is no longer a big deal. Serious. It happens here all the time, and I'm TOTALLY ok with it. (I reserve the right to amend this statement if hubby ever stops selling wine for a living.)

Reading has finally clicked for Princess, and she LOVES reading to us in the aforementioned hammock. I can't believe she is going to be in second grade. The days are long, but the years fly by.

I think draft beer makes me have nightmares. What is happening to me? This is not normal, right?

In January, I "resolved" to make 2011 the "Year of No". Somehow, I'm busier than ever. A gentle reminder of why I hate New Year's Resolutions, and should never make any again. Ever.

My increased Twitter activity has me in a constant state of "hashtag speak" - #iwanttostop but it's #toomuchfun

Game 7 of the Stanley Cup playoffs is tonight, and despite the fact that my Red Wings have been hittin' the links for a few weeks now, all day I've had this apprehensive excitement because, tomorrow, I know, there will be no hockey ... #sad #whendoesnextseasonstart (See? I can't stop)

Our Nana (and the BIGGEST Mavs fan on the planet), apparently has a T-shirt, that she wears as a nightshirt, that says "Dirkalicious". I find this somewhat disturbing.

My Little Man got a haircut yesterday (LOTS cut off), and he looks so old. Sigh. Too fast ... too soon ...

Princess made me a bird feeder for Mother's Day, and it's taught us that, in our backyard anyway, Blue Jays - while very pretty - are mean, mean birds. They're like that popular group of girls in high school that believe they rule the school, won't share, and posses that sense of entitlement that makes you want to smack the shit out of them. And, they make this territorial screeching sound that makes me want to pluck their feathers out one-by-one until they stop. #iwouldneverdothat

A very dear friend is dealing with the reality of her dad's stage 4 cancer. She's strong and loving and wonderful, and it breaks my heart to see her go through this knowing there are no words that can lessen her aching heart. It makes me think about you, H, and how very much I know you miss your dad. For what it's worth, I miss him every day, too.

Truth: Baseball, for me, is still hard to watch without missing Dopper. A LOT. Such vivid memories of summer nights at the ballpark with him growing up. I can't believe it's been two years. Can you even imagine the parties he and your dad are throwing up in heaven? Oh the trouble those two are undoubtedly causing ...

There was a topic trending last night on Twitter, it was #iamhappiestwhen, so it got me thinking - and here are just a few of my "I am happiest when ...":

I hear my kids say, "I love you". To anyone. Can you imagine a world without it? #nothanks
My husband smiles at me.
My kids make each other belly laugh.
I can provide a smile, a hug or an encouraging word to help make a friends day a little brighter.
My kids ask to cuddle.

So there you have it, H. FYI - as it turns out - I've missed my blog, so thanks for making me visit. xo

"It's On!"

2011-04-03T18:41:00.001-04:00

Princess and Little Man are playing the Toy Story Memory game together.

Our daughter has been good at this game, seemingly, her whole life. Seriously, at two years old she was kicking the you-know-what out of most of her opponents. Her memory is so ridiculously good, we think she might be part elephant.

So, now her opponent comes in the form of her almost-four year old little brother. And, he only recently showed any interest (or ability) in the memory game.

They set up the full game - ALL the cards - which generally plays to Princess' strengths, especially since Little Man's ability to focus for long periods of time has proven (age appropriately) a challenge.

Well, after Princess set the game up, gave Little Man some pointers and positive reinforcement, he came out of the gates with guns a' blazin'!
No sooner had the game started, Princess exclaims, "HOLY COW, HE'S BEATING ME!"

I looked down and saw 4 or 5 matches for him, and NONE for her.

I was stunned.

So was she, because as we watched him collect yet ANOTHER match, she paused briefly and then very calmly said, "That's it. I've had it. It's on."

Mommy laughed. Out loud.

Hubby walked in - I relayed what had just happened - and his reply was simply (and dripping with sarcasm), "That's healthy..."

For the record, Princess buckled down, came back, and kicked his ass.

They're on game #2 now ....

-- Post From My iPhone

It's a good thing she's cute ...

2011-02-22T10:21:00.003-05:00

Snowday #2 is upon us due to a massive ice storm (Mother Nature's sense of humor is evil). Little Man is actually at preschool today - poor kid hadn't been out of the house in a couple of days - but Princess is home with me today. Again.

She's waiting patiently while I work (and blog, briefly) from home this morning, because I promised a snowshoe adventure after lunch.
And, as a result of the comment (of hers) that I'm about to share, it's going to be hard not to leave her skinny little butt in the woods today ...

I made a comment about the fact that she had the waistband of her jammies rolled over a couple of times. Her response was this: "Mom, I roll it over because my bottom is so small and my pants fall down if I don't." She continued, not in a sassy way at all, but with a genuinely informative (in her mind) purpose and tone, "If you had a small bottom too, you'd understand."

Thanks, kid.

Proceed with EXTREME caution

2011-02-15T18:10:00.005-05:00

(which is code for, if you're not "in" to expletives, might be best to skip this particular entry entirely)

The phrase, "Today was one of those days" doesn't even begin to describe it. I know I have mentioned this before, but my favorite book as a child was this:

And, today, (language alert) Alexander seems like one lucky little bastard.

Here's how it started ... On the way out the door to take Princess to school this morning, I realized that I should probably send a note stating she'd had a dose of Benadryl at 8am (she had an incident at school yesterday - a little freaky for them because she has a peanut allergy - and long story short, they now have the ability/permission to give her Benadryl when she gets rashy from things OTHER than peanuts); so I grabbed a blank note off of one of the frig pads and ran out the door. As Princess was getting out of the car, I scribbled out the note and shoved it in her pocket, and told her to give it to her teacher.
It wasn't until about 11am that I realized that the notepad from which I'd grabbed the piece of paper said this on the top:

"I'll have a cafe mocha vodka valium latte to go, please!" (Thank you, JJ)

No shit. Oh the irony that the note was an attempt to PREVENT overdosing my daughter.

The rest of the morning was spent trying to get some work done at home, while explaining to Little Man (no less than the ten times) that when I tell him his birthday list is in his head, he won't be able to shake his head vigorously to feel it. While I (now) understand that this is too complex for him to grasp at almost 4 years of age, I must admit, it is still humorous to watch the head-shaking.

Mommy Explosion #1 occurred later in the day upon discovery of an open marker left unattended on Little Man's bed that had leaked onto his comforter and snuggly blanket. And, because today is worse than one of those days, it wasn't one of those washable markers - NOOOOOO - it was one of the silly-ass "NEON EXPLOSION" markers. Yeah, of course it was. (And, no, the spots are still not out ...)

Mommy Explosion #2 occurred after picking Princess up from school and heading to Target (or, The Popcorn Store, as Little Man calls it). See, for Valentine's Day, I bought Princess the game Connect Four because I remembered that we'd recently played it together and she LOVED it. Turns out, we'd played the game that SHE HAD GOTTEN FOR CHRISTMAS (not from me - thank God I haven't gone completely batshit crazy). Anyway, feeling guilty, I told her we'd exchange it for a new DS game.
Let's just say that while at Target - each child asked for at least 30 things despite being warned, poked, grabbed, stared at, ignored, etc., hence the aforementioned #2 explosion.

Mommy Explosion #2.5 was really just a continuation of M.E.#2, only louder since we were no longer in a public place and they were both strapped into car seats without an escape.
Actually, that might count as Mommy Explosions 2.5 AND 3!

The mandated timeouts seemed to be effective behavior-modification tools - for about 3 minutes. Bickering, tattling, fighting, & whining led to Mommy Explosion #4, where it was strongly suggested that if cooperation & kind words could be utilized, then Mommy expected NO noise at all. NO talking, NO whispering, NO pointing, NO nothing.

It was like having dinner with Monks. And, today, I only feel slightly guilty that I enjoyed it.

After dinner, I gave them a 15 minute shot at redemption. They headed into Little Man's room - there were sweet sounds of giggles, and happiness, and brotherly/sisterly love. I heard Little Man gleefully shout, "I'm gonna go show Momma - be right back, ok?!!" Then, in his haste, he tripped out of his room, slammed into the laundry room doors and pinched his finger so badly it swelled immediately and turned white.

What. The. Eff??

Oh, and Princess lost her third tooth today - at school - but left it there in her desk, so, no tooth fairy tonight (her words, not mine).

Alexander hasn't got JACK on our household today -- and if anyone has a line on where I could actually find a "cafe mocha vodka valium latte", I'll take three. K? Thanks.

Don't Blink

2011-01-05T21:12:00.002-05:00

First things first: HAPPY NEW YEAR! Or, as my friend D and I say, Happy New NO Year; see, we both need to get a little better at saying, "No" from time-to-time.

Anyway, I've never been one for resolutions, really. They just seem like so much pressure. If it's important enough on January 1st, it's important the other 364 days, too. Ya know?

I have broken my own rule this year, however. I am taking the advice of Kenny Chesney -- yes, that Kenny Chesney. His advice? Don't blink.

It's a great song, if you are unfamiliar:

Take every breathe God gives you for what it's worth
I've been tryin' ta slow it down; I've been tryin' ta take it in
In this here today, gone tomorrow world we're livin' in
Don't blink
Life Goes Faster Than You Think

I just have one thing to say to that: AMEN!

I woke up one morning and my world had - changed.

Princess is reading. It's been something at which she has worked, and is still working, but she's doing it. She's reading. Like, entire books. Sounding out words she doesn't know and everything. It still makes me teary to see her eyes light up when she not only reads an entire book, but completely understands what she has just read as well.

Princess has her math homework completed (correctly, I might add) these days before I've even had a chance to read the directions. (Don't judge me. Yes, it's first grade math worksheets, but I still feel the need to read ALL of the directions at the top of the pages.)

It seems like just yesterday I was reading "Goodnight Moon" to the bump in my belly as I anxiously awaited her arrival.

Don't blink.

Little Man had his first FULL DAY at preschool yesterday. He's been going 2-3 mornings a week for over a year now, but he's never spent a whole day - including nap time - at school. We talked about it, packed up his "night night" stuff in the morning, and he was genuinely excited for his new adventure.

Of course, at 12:15 (the time at which we'd usually be home snuggling), I texted Ms. J at the school to make sure he was not causing unnecessary trauma to the other kids due to all the screaming from missing his mom, and his unwillingness to nap in unfamiliar (sleeping) territory. (And, yes, I was secretly hoping I would hear "I WANT MY MOMMY!" in the background.) She informed me he was doing great and was SUPER excited to be there for the whole day. (Sheesh, throw the mom a bone, lady - at least tell me he misses me a little.)
At pickup, I was told he actually slept, and, that he'd had a blast.
That night, as I ushered him toward his bed and said it was night-night time, he announced, "NO, MOM. I SLEEP AT SCHOOL NOW!"

Umph. Low blow, kid.

Don't blink.

Today, since Little Man had asked to, once again, stay at school for the whole day, I was able to retrieve Princess from the bus and hang with her for a bit before picking up Little Man at school. When I told her we needed to get going, she asked, "Mom, can I just stay here by myself while you run and get him?"

*Language alert*
I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at her -- and in my head, two replies popped up:

1) ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME???
and
2) NO EFFING WAY!!!

What came out of my mouth, however, was "Um. No."

She also asked for a diet coke today (we don't give her soda to drink, by the way), and proudly announced, "Mom, I only need a 1 before my 6 til I can drive!"

Holy. Shit.

Don't blink.

I mean, seriously, DON'T BLINK.

Jesus. And snacks.

2010-12-04T13:18:00.001-05:00

The Christmas season is one of my favorites. Always has been.

As a parent, I try to instill in our children the reason for the season -- despite the consumerism surrounding the holiday.

Princess decided to give me an "update" - a 10th(ish) revision - on her Christmas list today.

The list wasn't all that long. Only 5 things, however, 3 of them were electronic in nature.

I took the opportunity to give her the obligatory, "Santa can't possibly get EVERYTHING on EVERY list", and, "we need to be thankful for ANYTHING we get - whether it's on our list or not", and other similar phrases.

I ended with this: "After all, Princess, Christmas is about Jesus, not about presents."

At that moment, Little Man who had been sitting quietly, seemingly not paying much attention to the exchange happening between his mom and sister, got a quizzical look on his face, and quite seriously said, "What does Christmas have to do with Cheez-Its?"

Seriously. Can't make this stuff up.

-- Post From My iPhone

Get Busy

2010-12-01T19:52:00.006-05:00

Hi, my name is Stephanie and it has been over two months since my last blog post.

Wow. That's an eternity in the blog world.

Here's the thing, I have never let this blog be something I HAD to do; I blog when motivated, and don't when I'm not (or when life gets in the way). As a result, its ebb and flow can be inconsistent, at best.

And, when life gets in the way -- that's not all bad, right? As Ellis Boyd Redding ('Red') says, "Get busy livin' or get busy dyin'."

I know my kids have provided copious amounts of blog fodder in the last two months, but, for now, here's what I've got:

Recently, upon being asked (by me) why Princess was being unkind to her brother, she replied: "Because I'm being a bucket dipper, and NOT a bucket filler."
Right. But the whole point of teaching you that phrase was so that you would, in fact work to fill the buckets of others.

While on a visit to Gramma and Grampa's, Little Man had something that Princess wanted (pretty sure the thing in question was even hers). Princess, frustrated, mustered something along the lines of, "GIMME IT!!" To which Little Man paused for a second, then looked at her, and calmly replied with, "You know, (sister), there's a nicer way to ask."
Wonder where he picked up that little gem? Probably from the same place he picked up the whole hands on his hips thing, huh?

I'm currently residing in, what I have named, parent-child purgatory. See, I am both (as are many of us). And, as a (39ish) child, I still often wonder how it is that my parents seem to know EVERYTHING; Yet, as a parent of TWO, I wonder when it is that my children will believe I know ANYTHING.
I mean, I don't expect them to think I know everything, but throw mom a bone every once in a while. I know stuff. I swear.

Over Thanksgiving, I flew from Detroit to Boston amidst all the TSA hoopla on the busiest travel day of the year. I saw no protesters, was subjected to no full body scanning, or pat downs of any kind. Hell, I didn't even get an inappropriate glance.

Public Service Announcement:
It's called SNOW. Happens every year. Get your head outta your ass and DRIVE!
Can you tell today was the first real day of the white, fluffy stuff in SW Michigan?

I am tiring of the seemingly endless political rhetoric on both sides. It's exhausting, really. And truthfully, I am an intelligent person capable of doing her homework and deciding on her own who will get her vote. Political ads piss me off and insult my intelligence. (Whew. That was LONG overdue.)

When will everyone stop being surprised that athletes ask for (and receive) the amounts they do? Even the "good guys" (Derek Jeter). Yes, they're obnoxiously overpaid. Deal with it.
PSA#2: Educators deserve so much more than they get -- but they're so busy educating, they have no time to fight for what they deserve. Go out of your way to thank your kid's teachers every chance you get. And twice when there's a full moon.

Little Man calls Chicken Devan (a family favorite meal), "Chicken In The Van".

65 degrees seems balmy in March, but downright FRIGID in September. Why is that?

"Shawshank Redemption", "Harold & Maude" and "Stealing Home" should be required watching. Oh, and,Catcher In The Rye should be required reading, too.

My husband is a better father than he'll ever know.
And there aren't enough ways to tell him what a wonderful husband he is.

Recently heard at our house:
Her: "Mom, when people we love die, you said their memory lives on in our heart, right?"
Me: "Yes."
Her: "Well, then who remembers them when we die?"

Wow.
What was it, that 'Red' said? Get busy livin'...

Mii amo

2010-09-24T21:08:00.001-04:00

An amazing journey. Thank you, Nana. Mom, Tami and I had an unbelievable time. Love you.

Cherish the teachers in your life - Honor the great ones

2010-09-16T22:37:00.007-04:00

In my family, educators are everywhere. Teachers, administrators, Professors, tutors.

And, they are all terrific and passionate and worthy of accolades unending.

I received a text today from my (much younger) sister. She teaches at a small, private school in the southwest region of the US. She has a classroom of 6th-8th grade boys. ALL BOYS. Each with their own set of challenges. It's a small group (I think she has around 10 students, give or take), but a challenge nonetheless. She faces each day with a "BRING IT!" kind of attitude, and truly wants to help these kids learn and excel and reach their full potential.

Now, if you knew her, you'd understand if I said here that one (or some) of the boys had a crush on her. Maybe even wrote her an anonymous love note.

HOWEVER, if such a thing occurred, she'd not only NOT share it publicly, she'd no doubt handle the situation with grace and professionalism. She's got one of the best hearts around.

Alas, lil sis has received "hate notes" (her term) from one student.

Today, she got another, which prompted her text to me. All her text said was, "Got another hate note (in orange) ... I retaliated :)"

This picture was attached to the text:

Translation: his note said, "I hate you"; she took it, affixed it to a heart that said, "... Maybe, but I love you. I will not give up." And she taped it to his desk.

I mean, c'mon, are you kidding me? Who wouldn't want to go through life knowing that someone wasn't going to give up on them - even when/if we give up on ourselves? He may be a handful - but he has my sister for a teacher. And, she rocks.

She also did this to his desk, just to reinforce who's boss (here's where you can tell that we are related):

This made me laugh out loud. It also made me very proud.

I hope his parents realize the true gem that is helping to shape their son. And I hope she never loses her passion and sense of humor. Her students are better people for having crossed her path.

And just like that - my heart melts ...

2010-09-14T08:21:00.002-04:00

Princess is a first grader now.

And, she LOVES it. Which makes mommy very happy.

Every morning, while she eats breakfast (still VERY slowly), I make her lunch (she LOVES her lunchbox more than just about anything). She tells me what to include, and for the most part, it's an easy order.

Every morning, I also include a note for her. Sometimes she can read it -- sometimes she can't. I know this, because some days, when she gets off the bus - she says, "Mom, do you remember what my note said? I couldn't read it."

And, I tell her.

I just assumed she tossed the notes each day.

Today, she asked if she could buy a milk instead of taking one. I said sure, put the money in a baggie, and went to put it in a small zippered front pocket of her lunch bag that I've never used before.

She JUMPED out of her chair yelling, "Nnnnoooooooooo - Mom that's where I ..."

It was too late, I had unzipped the pocket, and saw, right there in front of me, all of the notes I'd sent in her lunch.

She saves them. Ugh.

Heart. Melted.

Recently Uttered in The Zoo ...

2010-08-28T21:31:00.003-04:00

... by me, and directed at Little Man:

Get the trash can off of your head!
Stop sitting on your sister's head!
Get the crayon out of your nose!
Don't do that to your penis!--Doesn't that hurt?

Never a dull moment ...

Ish

2010-08-27T22:19:00.000-04:00

Big doin's here in Kzoo.

Little Man has potty trained himself - and there is NO WAY I'll actually admit it's been easy, because then the potty training Gods would wreak havoc on our potty parade. And, no one wants that. Really.

Princess has her first "wiggly, jiggly tooth" -- her words, and, I hope she calls them that forever. It's heart-meltingly adorable.

Little Man decided it was time for a Big Boy bed, which meant Princess passed her Daddy-made bed down and a REAL Big Girl bed was purchased for her. She also picked out the bed "stuff", and I swear her room now makes her look "older". Ugh.

Princess' bus schedule for FIRST GRADE came the other day. It says her adorable little self will be gone for EIGHT AND A HALF HOURS. Every. Day. She's too little for that. Seriously.

So, let's recap:
Potty training
First loose tooth
Big Boy bed
BIG Big Girl bed
Schedule for firstborn's LONG school days.

Forget the caffeine IV about which I "joke" -- change it out for straight up Jack Daniels!

Okay, so as the nostalgia for their youth (read: infancy) is elevating, I decide to embrace the change (HA)! Princess and I are sitting on her brand new, GINORMOUS bed, and BOOM!

Collapsed.

New bed. On floor.

Hubby not home.

Shit.

After dismantling, assessing the situation, and determining that I had NO EFFING CLUE how to fix the broken bed frame, I decided that Hubby's handiwork was needed.

As I walked out into the living room to join the chaos of kids, this was the exchange between Princess and me:

HER: Um, Mom?

ME: Yes?

HER: Ya know, I think it's your fault my bed broke.

ME: (totally dumbfounded. and speechless)

HER: (a bit slow and cautious with her delivery) Well... uh... you know, because you're kinda heavy. Ish.

Yep. She said it.

Complete with the "ish".

-- Post From My iPhone

Are All Six Year Olds So Literal?

2010-08-19T12:33:00.001-04:00

Princess turned six over the weekend. To say she got SPOILED ROTTEN, is an understatement.

She went on two shopping sprees for school clothes, courtesy of Oma and Mimi. And, she has been determined to wear as many new things (all at once) as possible, ever since.

The highlight of one of today's get-ups revolved around a pair of multi-color, multi-striped, over-the-knee socks.

As a result, this conversation with my very LITERAL daughter just took place:

HER: Mom, these socks are A LOT higher than I thought.

ME: They're cute, sweetie. That's how all the kids are wearing them these days.

HER: Huh? What'd you say?

ME: (repeat) (while kind of chuckling to myself)

HER: Mom (slightly irritated, and not even remotely amused), no one else is in my socks!

(Then I got the "my mom is effing nuts" look.)

(From my six year old)

I didn't even try to explain.

-- Post From My iPhone

You can never have too many fire drills ... right?

2010-08-04T15:16:00.004-04:00

Three years ago this month, Princess started preschool. Only 2 mornings a week - just something to give her some socialization with kids her own age. Little Man was just four months old at the time.

For Princess, it was love at first sight. Actually, 2 loves at first sight. There was a WMU student (we'll call her Miss "Leigh") who was helping out in Princess' room, and Molly was instantly a HUGE fan.

Now, the personality of Princess has been chronicled in this blog, and it's no secret that she is little miss independent with lots of "spunk".

But, at school, she has ALWAYS been described as an angel student. The words, "I wish we could have a roomful of her" have been used many times. (I know, TRUST ME, I ask for verification every time - "Really? Princess? Are you sure?!")

So, last fall, we enrolled Little Man in the same preschool.

Hubby and I used to describe him as our "laid back" child.

Somewhere along the line, however, that train left the station.

Big. Drag.

I will interject a disclaimer here that his age group at preschool is, on their very best day, "challenging". Several sets of twins, some children whose parents aren't exactly "sticklers" (I've never actually spelled tried to spell that word before) for rules and discipline or consistency. The result - Little Man has witnessed some "new" behaviors.

At the end of the day, however, we trust the teachers and the director, and know how much our kids love the school, so, it has mostly been a great experience.

Little Man has been put in timeout for not listening.

Little Man has been put in timeout for not cleaning up his toys.

One day, Little Man even tested the "3 strikes" rule and was sent to the Director's office.

Good news is - he generally turns it around and hasn't been tagged for repeat offenses. Thankfully.

So, today, I get a text from Miss Leigh about 10 minutes before Little Man is to be picked up, and the following exchange takes place:

HER: Text me after you pick up Little Man ... and talk to (the Director)

ME: Hubby is picking him up in a few. Oh no. What happened?

HER: Haha. He just decided that (preschool) needed a fire drill this morning.

ME: SHUT UP!!! OMG! I'm dying.

ME (again): That's a felony. Is he in the slammer?

HER: Haha. He felt bad/was a little scared I think. He didn't get in trouble, (Director) talked to him about why he shouldn't touch them (although I HIGHLY doubt he'll ever even go near one again)

HER (again): Lights flashing. LOUD buzzer = maybe a little traumatizing for a 3 yr old!

ME: Did he then $h!t his pants again??? (Little Man has had issues with that part of the potty training and last time Miss Leigh babysat, she was on cleanup "duty")

HER: Haha - don't think so.

Terrific.

Have I mentioned the difference in raising boys and girls?

Oy.

Pixar, a penis and a Big Woody.

2010-08-01T21:42:00.002-04:00

The headline alone is enough to get ya here, yes?

Toy Story 3 is ALL THE RAGE at our house. Both Princess and Little Man waited, patiently, for its release. Little Man has seen it 3 times already - and all of them in 3D.

Our house has been overrun with action figures from the movie. And, in ALL shapes and sizes.

(Truth be told - I blame Oma! She started this circus...)

It began with an innocent Buzz Lightyear and Woody purchase. For each child.

Then, Hubby got roped in to buying "Big Buzz" (literally 3 times the size of the Buzz we ALREADY owned) for Little Man. Sucker.

Princess, never a big fan of watching little brother getting something cool, roped hubby in to a Jessie purchase a few days later. (I began to threaten Hubby at this point)

Oh, and did I mention that ALL THESE FRIGGIN TOYS TALK????

I was now living in Pixar hell!

Before I knew it, we had a GIANT Rex, another friggin' talking Jessie, a little Bullseye and Jessie set (which DIDN'T TALK, thus immediately becoming MY favorite), and two talking Rex flashlight things.

** Important Side Note: Little Man is not yet potty trained. He turned three in April and has NO DESIRE. At all. (Don't tell our family doc - he'll kick my ass for not forcing this more.) Anyway, as every parent knows - potty training is all about control. And we know, the kids have it ALL with respect to all things potty. Trick is, we can't let them know we know, ya know? All parents also know that BRIBERY works wonders when potty training.

At some point, Little Man decided that since he had a "Big Buzz" he needed ... wait for it ... a "Big Woody". In fact, on a recent trip to Target, he was marching up and down the aisles announcing (at a volume suitable for rock concerts), "I NEED A BIG WOODY!! I WANT A BIG WOODY"

Shushing him didn't work. Nor did the giggling passers-by.

So, as a way of introducing, once again, the whole potty concept, we told Little Man that he could have a "Woody and a Bullseye" set when he actually went pee-pee on the potty.

Nothing. Not even so much as an attempt.

Princess was far easier to potty train - once she realized it didn't really matter to us if she went in a diaper or on the potty (yes, MAJOR acting awards to Hubby and me), she decided the potty was better.

Little Man, however, stubborn as a MULE.

And then, last night, it happened.

We were at a birthday party for another beautiful princess. She turned 4 - and one of her gifts was a GIANT Jessie and Bullseye set. You should have SEEN Little Man's eyes. I think, initially, he was more excited to play with it than she was!

The whole ride home, all he could talk about was getting his own "Big Woody and Bullseye". So, he was again reminded that such a purchase could be his for the low, low price of USING THE POTTY INSTEAD OF A DIAPER!!!!!!

He went to bed talking about it.

He woke up talking about it.

He talked about it the whole way to church.

When I picked him up from the 3 year old room at church, they handed me the diaper I had dropped off with him, and said, "He didn't need this - he went on the potty."

I was stunned.

I stood there, staring at this woman in disbelief. My chin had to have been on the floor.

I said, "Huh? He did? Are you sure?"

She looked at me like I was asking a ridiculous question, so I quickly clarified, "He's not potty trained. He refuses to go."

She looked at me and said, "Well, ok - but - um - yeah, he went."

At that point, Little Man spotted me and came FLYING across the room screaming, "MOMMY I WENT PEE PEE ON THE POTTY!!!! I CAN HAVE A BIG WOODY NOW!!!"

In church. Awesome.

Once again, the "adults" were highly amused. Juveniles.

We found Big Woody & Bullseye. Little Man was in HEAVEN.

**************

When I woke Little Man up from his nap - his diaper was dry.

I whisked him into the bathroom - shed the clothes and diaper, and plopped him on the potty - with his Big Woody (the toy) - and waited.

And waited.

AND. WAITED.

Nothing.

After trying all the potties in the house and offering up M&Ms or Tootsie Rolls as incentives, I said, "Well, ok then, if you don't go on the potty, I'll take Big Woody and put him away and you can have him back when you go again."

He went on the potty five more times today after that.

Even asked if we could go get him some "Big Boy" underwear - like daddy.

So, we did. Guess what kind?

Yep - TOY STORY.

And, his favorite pair?

Yep - WOODY.

I think I might seriously hate Pixar.

Attitudes Aren't Just For Girls

2010-07-07T19:11:00.001-04:00

If you know us at all, or simply follow this blog, you are likely aware of the precociousness of the Princess.

She can put the capital "A" in ATTITUDE.

When asked where she gets it, I am quick to reply, "Her father."

(And yes, I am well aware of the rhetorical nature of the question when responding, but hey, it's my movie!)

Little Man has always been the lower maintenance child.

Until recently.

Terrible twos? Ppfffffttttt.

Since turning three in April, it's as if our laid back child was replaced with an alien replica from the planet Painintheass. If you are unfamiliar, it's properties are a combination of it's two closest planet friends: Stoppedlisteningtoyou and Tormentingmysisterisfun.

It's SUPER fun. No, really.

Especially given how well Princess handles the recent verbal and physical aggression by her little brother.

Our house can, at times, resemble a WWF Cage match.

Today, upon picking Little Man up from preschool, I was informed he had been sent to the office.

For not listening.

Only now do I realize the irony of my reaction to the news, "WHAT?!"

Ugh. At least at preschool Princess was a gem in all her classrooms. Seriously. She saved the 'tude for mom and dad.

I was crushed, and made Little Man apologize to his teacher before we left. (Thankfully, he did seem at least a little remorseful)

Fast forward to post-dinner tonight after a day of needing to earn toys back (at home) for his antics at school: kids are going a bit bonkers, chasing each other - repeated reminders about no running in the house by me - Little Man disappears for what I consider to be an unacceptable length of time.

So, I call out, "Little Man, WHAT ARE YOU DOING??!!"

Little Man, sounding a bit at his three year old wits end replies with, "Mom. RELAX (but it came out WEE-LAX) - I'm in my room!"

Hubby had a visual, and for a few seconds he and I stared at each other in partial disbelief - and then we both busted out laughing.

I'm sure I missed a true parenting opportunity just then - but it really was hilarious.

And, I've already lost the 2010 Mother of the Year Award.

Multiple times.

-- Post From My iPhone

Good Signs are Important - So is Reading Them.

2010-06-29T20:40:00.006-04:00

Over a month since I've blogged. Wow.

Life is busy. Like, KUH-RAZY busy. So, thanks in advance for not giving me $hit about the whole not blogging thing.

This afternoon, I took advantage of the nice weather with the kids and went to one of our favorite places - the Kalamazoo Nature Center. You may recall, it's the spot of one of my favorite days with Princess. Ever. I blogged about it, and still take the occasional stroll down memory lane by reading it. Remembering that day puts a smile in my heart and a tear in my eye every time.

So, today, Princess, Little Man and I took one of our Tuesday adventures (Hubby gets adult time on Tuesdays from about 3 o'clock on ...).

We had a blast hiking, tree climbing, river walking, mosquito smacking, butterfly watching, flower smelling and picnicking. And laughing together. A LOT.

Kiddos were super stoked because they each now have their own Mini-MULE Camelbacks. They could not look ANY cuter. Seriously. And I no longer have to carry their water bottles.

It's a win-win!! (And, how often does a parent get to say THAT?)

It got to be about quittin' time (a little after 6ish), so I announced to the kids that we needed to head back to the car -- they still needed baths, etc. once we got home, and Little Man has preschool tomorrow.

We meander back to the car - none of us really wanting to end the fun.

Load up, change a wet diaper, remove river-soaked clothing and shoes, buckle up and head out.

Or so we thought.

Upon making our way from the parking lot up to the front gate, we are greeted by a CLOSED front gate.

Check that, a closed and LOCKED front gate.

What the... ?????

My brain is in mini-panic mode for a split second before I realize there is a tiny little yellow sign bolted to the gate.

Whew. It's likely directions for just such instances on an alternate exit, right?

Yeah, not so much.

I pull closer to read the yellow-sign-of-saving-grace only to discover there is no alternate exit. No secret code to open the gate (which I now see is padlocked).

Oh no - none of that.

HOWEVER, there is a nice little message to call a local towing company if you're idiotic enough to get locked in after hours - FOR A $55 FEE!!!!!

Pardon my french, but, ARE YOU SHITTING ME?

Seriously?

I must be honest, I thought to myself, if I just ram through your stupid gate, I'll buy you some two-by-fours and a new padlock and we'll call it a day...

By now, Princess is stressing a little, convinced we have to spend the night at the Nature Center.

I assure her we will be sleeping in our own beds tonight. Guaran-effing-teed. (I used different words with her, but you get my point)

I doubled-back, hoping to find a maintenance person, park ranger-type person, straggling employee ... anything.

Nope. Our trusty mini van was the only thing on wheels inside the park that wasn't supposed to be.

Crap.

Now, any sane person would have simply called the number and choked up the $55 bones, yes? But, you see, I was kinda pissed that such a sign and WARNING isn't posted at the ENTRANCE of the Nature Center. Or if it is, it needs to be more prominent. I also was under the impression I'd read on their website that summer hours were until dusk (which, again, is kinda vague, especially if fees are involved for possible misinterpretation). I was half right - it's open until dusk Wednesday through Sunday (I looked when I got home).

CRAP. CRAP.

So, there I sat, kids a little freaked about how and when we're going to get the heck outta there, while I stubbornly refused to simply call the towing company and pay the fee. It just seemed ridiculous.

I didn't sit much longer before deciding that for the sake of my children's sanity, the smart play here was to make the call and pay the fee.

So, I pick up the phone. I dial. Dude answers. I say something like, "Hi, I'm sitting on the wrong side of a locked gate at the Nature Center."

Silence.

ME: "HELLO?"

Dude that answered says, "Do you need your car towed?"

ME: "No. I need to get to the other side of the gate. A pretty yellow sign says I should call you. And then, I get to pay you $55 for having a key."

The sound of papers fumbling around for a few seconds is followed by, "Oh. Yeah. Here it is. We do that."

ME (only in my head): Oh. Yeah. No shit.

Dude then asks, "Can I have your name, and the year, make and model of your vehicle?"

ME (gave name): "... and I'm the only vehicle in the joint, and I'll be easy to find, I'M SITTING ON THE WRONG SIDE OF THE LOCKED GATE." (It's not like there is a line of cars behind me, with only some of us willing to pay the escape fee...)

ME: I'm in a black mini van.

Dude: "OK. Hang on. I need to see if we have anyone that can unlock that for you."

As his words sort of drifted off, I am certain my blood began to actually boil. And I was just about ready to back up Old Bessie and go all "Thelma & Louise" on that gate, when, out of nowhere, I see a car (not a towing company car) pull in to the entrance gate on the other side.

Out walks a younger guy who kind of smiles and waves.

I roll down my window.

He says, "Hey, I came back to drop something off that I was supposed to leave here at work. I have keys. How about I let you guys out?"

I could have jumped out and kissed him.

As knight-in-shining-armor-guy was unlocking the gate, Dude on phone returns and says, "Yeah, I have someone, but it may be a while. You're going to have to wait."

Uh, yeah, not so much.

And, for the record, I STILL say the whole "you're gonna get charged a fifty-five dollar dumbass fee for being here after close" thing ought to be posted on the way IN.

(And, if it already is, it needs to be bigger.)

Babysitter Notes

2010-05-24T09:41:00.004-04:00

Ever have one of "those" days where you felt like leaving this kind of note for the babysitter?

*sarcasm alert*

Yeah, me neither.

"We are not Art Van"

2010-05-14T13:25:00.003-04:00

How many people do you know that DELIVER from their own garage sale?

Well, I know at least one. My husband.

See, it all started with an innocent walk he took around the neighborhood this morning.

The neighborhood, is having a garage sale. In the 10+ years that we've lived here, we've never had a garage sale. As a matter of fact, they don't even include us on the neighborhood distribution list for such things. (Because for years they did, and we never participated.)

Yep, we're THOSE neighbors.

Anyway, Hubby returned from his walk and announced that he was going to "grab a few things, like the unused deck table and chairs, and put 'em out in the driveway to see what we can get".

Suddenly there are car seats, infant bath slings (where the hell have THOSE been hiding?), old gaming systems, pool cues from Hubby's sharkin' days, hose reels (the likes of which have caused swearing that would make sailors blush), books, puzzles, and so on.

Here's the reason I don't do garage sales: it never ends up being JUST the table and chairs (see Exhibit A above) and it takes more than 5 minutes to plan and prepare. Garage sales are an "event" and, at my core, I am an Event Planner. I need signs and labels and categories and SOME semblance of organization.

Our little event is devoid of all these things.

And as the stuff hit the driveway, passersby slowed down, and I had visions of Canal Street (NYC shoutout) bargaining happening in my driveway. For the record, I LOATHE bartering.
So, I am frantically printing signs for the stuff as Hubby surfaces from depths unknown with more, fighting off what, I am certain is, a mini panic-attack.

This is a good time to point out that Hubby is also breaking Garage Sale Having Rule #1: all the stuff is being put in the driveway, HOWEVER, the garage door is open, leaving all the NOT FOR SALE stuff in plain sight.

Picture this: the door from kitchen is open so I can keep an eye out for overzealous bargain shoppers, I type frantically on the laptop attempting to print signs and price tags while Little Man relishes in the new found freedom our now babygateless house affords him.

(About that - yesterday, in one swift move, I "performed" a maneuver that I am CERTAIN would have made Edwin Moses, Greg Lougainis, and Mary Lou Retton simultaneously cringe and then laugh their collective asses off. Let's just say a slight miscalculation on my part ended with the impressive fortress of babygatedness being ripped from 2 walls at once, the tv with a scratch, and me on my ass encased in baby gate pieces parts. Oh, it was a scene.)

So, as all of this is going on, the doorbell rings.

Shit.

It's a lady wanting the (still not cleaned off yet) table and chairs.

I summon (or is it summons?) Hubby from the depths. After all, this is his gig.

She works him for a 20% discount.

Not bad, and I'm thinkin', "Hey, at least we made some cash - and it's better than having to lug the thing to Goodwill or visit the post office (which, anyone that knows me can attest is probably my LEAST favorite place to go)."

Well, joke's on me.

After watching this pack rat (her, not Hubby) try and fit 4 chairs AND a glass top table in an already full Yugo with a crib strapped to the top (CANNOT make this shit up), Hubby can't take it anymore and offers to fill our van and follow her home.

Seriously.

I am now sitting in the driveway with the rest of our gems, wondering what other unbeatable deals Hubby has up his sleeves?!

While he's gone, I am contemplating making some yard signage to increase market awareness of our little sale, something like, "Layaway Options Available" or "You barter, we deliver!"

Got any suggestions?

(Truth be told, I really am glad to be getting rid of some stuff - even if it's a bit unorthodox.)

-- Post From My iPhone

Mother's Day love ... anyway

2010-05-07T20:01:00.003-04:00

I have a blog.

I follow blogs.

I just read an AMAZING post about what it can be like to be a stepmom. (PLEASE read it, and come back.)

I am a mom. (I am not a stepmom)

I have a mom.
I have a stepmom.
And, I consider myself a better person for having both.

I love being a mom. I thank God I am not a stepmom.

I love my mom unconditionally.
I love my stepmom wholly. (And, while she knows that I do, I feel the need to tell her here ... anyway.)

So, thank you, Mimi and Oma, for helping me to be the best me I can be. I am a better woman, and a better mother because of your guidance and inspiration. You are both my treasures. And I love you.

Happy Mother's Day.

We Got Trouble. Right Here in River City ...

2010-04-23T12:49:00.001-04:00

... With a capital "T", which rhymes with "P" ... And that stands for ....

Princess.

(Bet you "Music Man" fans were thinkin' "Pool", eh?)

Princess announced this after school today:
"Mom, I'm not wearing my sandals to school anymore. Only tennis shoes."

(Reluctantly, I bite ...) "Why not?"

HER: "Because, I get wood chips in my sandals when I play shadow tag with the boys."

ME: (gulp) "Shadow tag?"

HER: "Yeah. They try to chase me and step on my shadow. I'm pretty good. They hardly ever catch me."

ME: "And only boys play?"

HER: "No. Boys and ME. The other girls get caught too easily."

Amen, sister. Keep it that way. Tennis shoes it is.

I'm off to buy stock in Nike.

-- Post From My iPhone

Do You Have A Plan B?

2010-04-22T16:05:00.001-04:00

Gorgeous day.

Outside with Princess, her bike and her new bell (for the bike).

She's HAULING up and down the sidewalk as I watch from the top of the driveway.

She shouts from the neighbor's driveway, "HEY, MOM! Come stand in the sidewalk. I want to test my new bell to see if it works."

ME: "Why do I need to stand on the sidewalk for you to test your bell?"

HER: "Because. I'm gonna take off, and try to ring the bell when I get close to you. If you hear it, you need to move outta the way."

ME: "So, if the bell doesn't work, I just stand here and let you ride into me."

HER: "Yep. (pause) I bet you hope my bell works, huh?"

Um, as a matter of fact, yes.

-- Post From My iPhone

It's funny cuz they're little ...

2010-04-14T19:24:00.005-04:00

Yeah yeah yeah - I know, it's been a LOOOOOOONG time since I've blogged. Too long - I'm the first to admit.

Life. Has. Gotten. In. The. Way.

In a good way. The warmer weather has provided lots of opportunities to do fun stuff outside with the kiddos. And, a prolonged spring break "season" helped shake the winter blahs.

The kids (who, by the way are both growing like freaking weeds and eating us out of house and home lately) have been keeping life interesting.

Little Man just turned three (or, "free" as he says), and Princess is 5 & 1/2 going on 25, with the attitude of a teen.

I recently commented that toddler boys are physically exhausting, while kindergarten girls are emotionally exhausting. And, just to be clear, I have no delusions that the light I see is actually the end of the tunnel - I am WELL AWARE that it's an oncoming train.

And, most days, I love it. On the other days, however, I'm really glad there's wine.

Speaking of wine - part of the reason we find our "cellar" (read: pantry in the basement) so fruitfully stocked these days is because I have some wonderful friends who knew exactly how to put a smile on my face for my (gasp) 40th birthday.

I toast them all with every wonderful sip!

And usually, my blog is filled with stories of my own kids (because life with them is NEVER dull), however, the funniest kid story I have happened last Friday while we were out with friends.

My friend (we'll call her JJ) has 2 kiddos too, G-man is 6 and B is the sweetest 3 & 1/2 girl on the planet. Well, Princess and G-man ADORE each other. A-D-O-R-E each other. The kids and I joined JJ, her kids and her parents at a local cafe for dinner. Watching the four kids together was entertaining for sure! Princess and G-man were playing almost as if they were the only ones in the room. It was adorable.

From across the table, as dinner was winding down (but the kids' energy levels definitely were NOT), JJ texted to see if the kids and I wanted to head back to her parents for some play time.

If jumping up on the table, and doing the Ickey Shuffle would have been at all appropriate at that moment, I'd have given the other cafe-goers QUITE a show!

(I was flying solo with kids - Daddy had a much deserved night off.)

Instead, I think my text back was akin to, HELL YES!!!!!

So, as JJ leans over and tells G-man that the kids and I are coming over to play for a while, his eyes light up and he practically jumps out of his seat.

He excitedly turns to Princess, grabs her hand, yells her name and screams, "THIS IS SO COOL! YOU'RE COMING OVER! NOW I CAN SHOW YOU MY BIG, PURPLE SNAKE!!"

Swear. He said it.

IN THE CAFE.

And, being the very mature adults that JJ, her parents and I are, we BUSTED. OUT. LAUGHING.

For the record, G-man DID proudly show his big, purple stuffed animal snake to Princess as soon as we got to the cars.

Outta the mouths of babes indeed...

Yep, He Said It.

2010-03-08T18:42:00.002-05:00

It was 50+ degrees today.

And the sun was shining brightly for the eighth day in a row (or more).

So, I took Princess and Little Man to the Celery Flats to play in the park and walk on the path.

It's one of our favorite things to do when the weather is nice. And, we have SERIOUS cabin fever from the seemingly longer-than-usual winter, so you can imagine the bottled up toddler and kindergartner energy that was just itching to be released.

Well, it seems everyone in southwest Michigan had the same idea today as the place was PACKED!

I suspect the sunshine is to "blame" for the smiles and happy dispositions. Everyone said hello, made eye contact, had smiles on their faces ... it was awesome.

Princess was running and hopping and skipping and jumping, while Little Man gathered sticks. He chose carefully and deliberately. Almost as if with a purpose.

I soon would learn (and hear) the purpose -- over and over again. And LOUDLY.

Little Man will be three next month - and he doesn't always pronounce words or sounds correctly.

And, he was SUPER excited about his sticks. Especially about his "BIG STICK!"

As a matter of fact, he seemingly told EVERYONE we saw about his BIG STICK. (And, we saw A LOT of people -- place was packed, remember?) He'd walk right up to everyone and anyone and proudly announce, "I have a big stick"; sometimes he'd even add "... a REALLY big stick".

Well, my not quite three year old Little Man has a problem with the "st" sound.
It comes out like a "d" sound.

So, if you're slow, and have not yet realized my mortification level for OVER AN HOUR today, say the words "BIG STICK" in loud, excited three year old voice whereby the "ST" is replaced with a "D" sound.

And then kindly stop laughing at my misfortune.

Yeah. It happened. Repeatedly.

Operation Beautiful

2010-03-05T06:21:00.002-05:00

Ever heard of Operation Beautiful? I hadn't either until the other day ... and it inspired me to make a video with Princess.

Is there a woman in your life who simply does not know how truly beautiful she is? Are you that woman?

According to her website, "the mission of Operation Beautiful is to post anonymous notes in public places for other women to find. The point is that WE ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL. You are enough... just the way you are!"

Yesterday, I took Princess to the Nature Center. The sun was brilliant. We had Post-It Notes, Sharpies, a camera phone.

And I had all of the beautiful women in my life on my mind (one in particular, and, she knows who she is). I can't leave Post-Its for each of you every day, so Princess and I made this video ... with love.

(And, yep, we left some of the post-its for others to find.)

The other side of the coin ...

2010-02-26T13:31:00.002-05:00

My last post about a terrific 14 year old restored my faith that there is, in fact, hope for today's youth.

That is, until I was snapped back to reality (drag), when this happened:

As you (may or may not) remember, hubby and I are ski instructors at a local bump.

Last weekend, there was some kind of Big Air competition going on, so the place was infested with snowboarding "dudes" (I have another nickname for them -- a four letter word, but it's not essential to the story, so I'll clean it up a bit).

I was between lessons and decided to take a few runs myself. I was in the lift line, which wasn't moving AT ALL because the chair was stopped for some reason.

I did not notice the group-o-"dudes" roll up behind me since I was not paying attention to anything in particular, really.

Until I was ...

Suddenly, I heard this, "I said, NICE ASS!"

Not knowing who snowboard "dude" was talking to (and NOT at all expecting it was me), but being somewhat startled at his volume, I turned around only to see about eight other snowboard "dudes" and no one else on our side of the line, but me.
So, I turned back around assuming he was clearly speaking to someone I could not see.

I then heard this: "I don't even get a thank you?"

I turned around again and said (slightly irritated), "Who are you talking to?"

A different snowboard "dude" chimed in and said, "He's talkin' to your sweet ass."

Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY?!?

Now, these kids are all like 15-18ish .....

*(WARNING: LANGUAGE ALERT)

I LITERALLY, laughed out loud, then I looked directly at "Dude #1" and said, "First of all, I'm old enough to be your mother. Second of all, there are more respectful ways to show appreciation for a female's body and I'd suggest you figure it out soon. Third of all, pull up your fucking pants -- you look ridiculous."

Now, I know I was wrong to use such language with kids ... but, you should have seen the looks on their faces. Talk about priceless.

What the world needs is ...

2010-02-22T14:44:00.003-05:00

More kids like KB ...

If you are one of those people that is constantly amazed at the utter disrespect kids, in general, have for others ...

If you are one of those people that believes iPods, cellphones, computers, televisions, social networking sites, and the world of electronics in general has stunted our youth ...

If you are one of those people that truly believes today's youth have no idea how to connect on a real, emotional, meaningful level ...

If you are one of those people that searches to be proven otherwise of all of these things ... listen up.

Hubby and I teach skiing at a local bump. It's no Vail, or Steamboat, or Aspen -- but we have fun and have met some great people. (It also happens to be where hubby and I met and fell in love)
Every day that I'm out there teaching, I have the chance to help someone else enjoy a sport I so dearly love. When it works, and they "get it", my heart smiles.

I have had the opportunity this winter to work with the Jr. Racing Program. Such a great group of kids. They may not all be the next Bode Miller or Lindsey Vonn - but they all have the heart of a champion.

Yesterday was the last day of the season for our racers. There was a big pizza party with t shirts and trophies and smiles all around.

There was also this note from one of the Jr. Racers who will age out after this year:

Seven years ago it was my first time in the Jr. Racing program. I was only seven years old and just beginning to really appreciate skiing. I came out just to have fun and to learn. Seven years later I am still here doing the same thing: skiing, learning and having fun.
I ski the way I do today only because of the wonderful people and teachers I have encountered along the way. So many people have influenced me and helped me to become a better skier. I would not be half the athlete I am today without their help.
So, I would just like to say thank-you. I would like to thank everyone who ever coached me or gave me a pointer. Anyone who ever told me "good job" or "way to go". All the instructors and people who ever encouraged me to keep going and become a better skier. I want to give my thanks to all the people and instructors I have met, from age seven to age fourteen.
You have all had a part in shaping the skier I am today. I have learned so much during my time in the racing program. So many instructors have helped to make me a better ski racer. I hope that in my years in high school I can participate on a race team and use all of the skills I have learned.
Once again I would just like to thank you all. Every coach, instructor, teacher, and member of the ski school staff. Thank you all. I truly would not be the skier I am today without the combined efforts of each and every one of you. Thank you all, so much.

She's fourteen.

An eighth grader.

And, I could tell you that she finally got that elusive gold and won her final race of the season on Saturday ... but, would that really matter?

She truly is a gifted skier. But she is far and away a better person. I played only a small part (a VERY small part overall) in her development as a racer, but am truly honored to have met such a kind, genuine and amazing girl.

So, if you are one of those people who loves a happy ending ... KB is living proof there is hope for the younger ones ...

Thank you, KB, for being so wonderfully you.

Oy with the "F" Word

2010-02-20T06:55:00.005-05:00

WARNING: If you are offended by THE four letter "F" word, you should probably skip this post. Just to be clear, it's not used in anger, but used nonetheless. And there's no substituting another word - the "F" word IS the story ...

OK, so, every parent knows that there is almost no greater feeling than the one(s) experienced when your child learns something new. Especially when that something new also happens to be useful (because figuring out that peas DO in fact fit in nostrils, or that pencil erasers DO in fact fit in ear cavities -- while "entertaining", are not altogether "useful"...).

Little Man, who will be three in April, already knows his letters. All of them. And lately, one of his favorite activities is to randomly spell words he sees. For instance, when we are driving, he spells words he sees on signs (if we are stopped), or on cars near us. Walking out of a restaurant recently, he said "O-P-E-N". It was the first time he'd ever done it, and I got so excited that the whole ride home we spelled, and then said, "O-P-E-N ... OPEN".

Since then, every time he spells a word that he sees, I get all excited (which he LOVES), tell him what the word is, and then repeat the spelling, and the word two or three times. It's a game, and he loves it.

(Any idea where this is headed? Yeah, buckle up.)

So, yesterday, Little Man was sitting next to me as I typed an email. A very short email reply that said, (LANGUAGE ALERT) "fuck you".

Even if I had realized that he was looking at the screen AND in the mood for his new "game", there's a 50-50 chance he picks the word "you", right?

Yeah, not so much.

So, in his cute little voice comes this, "F-U-C-K".

I froze.

And he looked at me, waiting for our little game to start.

Now, in my head, I was in fact repeating the word - MULTIPLE TIMES - but thankfully, my mouth fell silent.

Still frozen, and speechless, Little Man says, "What dat word mommy?"

(The word repetition in my head got faster, more fever-pitched and louder.)

Knowing that he is not yet to the point of remembering how to spell words, I could have come up with ANY, more acceptable, four letter F word: frog, four, feel -- hell, even fart. But did I? No, of course not.

No, instead, this occasional quick-on-her-feet mom was in panic mode -- and instead of using ANY of the words listed above, the only word that popped into my head, and thus shot outta my mouth like the cork out of a champagne bottle was .....

"DANGER"

No shit. Danger.

I guess that Mother of the Year Award will have to wait another year. Again.

Crap.

A Text-fulfilling Prophecy (ish)

2010-02-17T13:31:00.003-05:00

My dear friend, Aaron texted me today -- I love when I get unexpected texts.

Unless they feel like work.

I opened up his text and it read: “ummmm …. Did you forget you have a blog?”

First, no I did not forget (you passive aggressive smartass).

Second, thanks. You got a team of monkeys working around the clock on that one? (One of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite movies, The Usual Suspects)

Third, I’ve been busy. REALLY. FREAKING. BUSY.

And (as Aaron also very astutely pointed out) blog posts need to just happen – you can’t force them. Aaron said, “I have no doubt that one of your kids (or your husband for that matter) will do something blog worthy in the next 24 hours.”

I was 5 minutes from picking up Little Man at preschool when I received that text (and, I don't know if Mother Paula's on S. Westnedge is looking to hire, but if so, Aaron's yer guy).

*Side note: I don’t wear a lot of jewelery, but today, I had on a cool new necklace and bracelet. Little Man was obsessed with them and kept saying he needed a necklace, or a bracelet.

Upon walking in the doors, the following conversation took place:

Ms. K (Preschool Director): Did Miss A. tell you what Little Man did today?

ME: Oh Lord. No. What?

** Now, before I continue, please click here and focus your attention on the blue “ring” of the diaper pail (and then come back), and the fact that the opening is not exactly round or circular (say, in the shape of a toddler’s head).

Ms. K: Well, when no one was looking, Little Man took the blue ring from the diaper pail, put it over his head and was walking all over with it just hanging around his neck.

ME: (there were no words. Just a look of disbelief on my face and likely some head shaking.)

Ms. K: Funniest part was, Miss A came to me and said that because of the shape of it, she couldn’t figure out how he got it on there, because it was NOT coming off easily at all.

ME: (still speechless and now envisioning what the whole scene must have looked)

Apparently, amidst all the laughter, one of the teachers suggested they just send him home that way. (She’s hilarious, btw.)

For the record – Miss A was, in fact, able to coax the blue ring from around his neck.

So, to my dear friend Aaron, you were right. Thanks. I think.

My kid cracks me up

2010-02-06T18:33:00.001-05:00

I was sitting in my room, when I heard Princess speaking in a very "serious" voice. I peeked around the corner, then quickly retreated back to my room to just listen.

Picture this:

Princess sitting at her desk in the living room, microphone (yes that DAMN mic that Mimi got her for Christmas) in hand, pretending to be a news anchor.

Apparently, there was breaking news about the Abominable Snowman (no shit).
After giving her very serious update, she says, "And now, we'll check in with Little Man, who is watching the action firsthand ... Little Man, what's happening down there?"

I fell off the bed laughing.

-- Post From My iPhone

Important Guy, Not a President

2010-01-20T12:53:00.001-05:00

After picking up Princess from the bus, and Little Man from preschool, my kitchen quickly became the dumping grounds for coats, boots, backpacks, gloves, etc., etc., etc.

Usually, this drives me batty.

Today, however, it was ok.

See, as the spontaneous combustion of winter and school gear occurred, Princess (who generally does not readily participate in the "What did you do at school today" discussion), was ripping open her backpack, feverishly looking for something, while excitedly trying to tell me about the cool thing that was eluding her.

ME: Sweetie, what are you looking for?

HER: Hold on, Mom. I'll show you.

ME: Is it the math book you just finished?

HER: No, I made it in art class today. It's cool. But my math book is in here too.

ME: OK.

HER: Here's the math book.

(Still ripping through backpack)

HER: Here is a ruler with all the Presidents.

(Finally finds what she's looking for)

HER: Here it is! It's a necklace. And it has a guy on it. A VERY important guy. But he's not a president.

ME: Is it Martin Luther King?

HER (somewhat shocked I guessed it): YES! THAT'S HIM, mommy! Martin Luther King JUNIOR. How did you know?

How cute is that?

-- Post From My iPhone

"I Don't Like Mondays ..."

2010-01-18T15:32:00.005-05:00

While my today was not a Monday like the one sung of by The Boomtown Rats (or, much later, covered by Tori Amos for, probably my favorite show of all time, The West Wing), it still has been a pretty sucky Monday.

Princess is not a morning person. She comes by that pretty naturally. She also happens to be the S-L-O-W-E-S-T eater on the planet. These two things, in combination, provide their very own brand of hell every morning. Every. Friggin. Morning. I say the words, "Eat your breakfast" 200 times a morning. Easily.

Hubby and I have pulled out all the stops from our collective bag 'o tricks, and some mornings we prevail, while others, like today, are just maddening.

It's an unpleasant way to start a day, or a week. And, after timers were set, and naps were doled out for two days, finally - FINALLY - breakfasts were consumed, teeth were brushed, butts were dressed, and kids were off to school.

Whew.

Fast forward to noon(ish), as Princess steps off the bus:

ME: Hi sweetie, how was your day at school?

HER (whining already and walking in the opposite direction of the house): I don't want to take a nap.

ME: We're not discussing this. We need to go get your brother at preschool.

She spent the whole ride there complaining that she wanted her boots off, she didn't want to take a nap, the lunch options I offered up were inadequate, and, and, and ....

Upon arrival at Little Man's preschool, I entered to pick up my happy child, who LOVES school and his teacher , and generally has a cheery (albeit at entirely too early an hour) morning routine.

TEACHER: Did he not get much sleep last night?

ME: Uh oh. Why? What happened?

TEACHER: Well, he was a complete handful today! He was difficult getting dressed to go outside, undressed back inside, he missed circle time because he wouldn't clean up his toys, and he was "sassy" all morning.

ME: Swell. And, I am so sorry. He and his sister have had some attitude issues of late.

TEACHER: Oh, good. So it's not just me - that makes me feel better.

That makes one of us.

Back at the ranch, after Little Man spent the ride home taking swings at his sister, he was placed in bed for his nap immediately.

And, as you'd expect, he was less than thrilled with that development.

Princess ate her lunch and understood that a nap was in her future. She actually went in quite willingly once lunch was over, and seemed to truly understand that she was not to get out of bed unless she had to use the bathroom.

Her first appearance was to announce that she had to go potty.

Fine.

Her next appearance was to ask if I could fix her cd player because it was playing the same Dora song over and over (I obliged mostly because the song was driving me batshit crazy, too). She was also reminded that she was not supposed to be getting out of bed.

She emerged once more, this time asking for kleenex (she's good, yes?). I gave her a box and then very clearly and deliberately said the following to her: I mean it, do not get out of that bed again unless you are bleeding or have to go potty. And I don't mean, picked your fingernail, or a scab and are bleeding a little, I mean FLOWING blood that requires stitches. Got it?

She nodded.

I then added this: If you get out of bed for any reason other than those I just stated, you will not get to go to hockey on Saturday. Do you understand me?

She nodded again, but this time, I made her repeat the consequences.

Ten minutes later she emerged yet again, asking for a piece of gum.

Seriously.

So, it's a little after 4pm on Monday, and already two naps have been doled out for the week, and half the hockey privileges have been revoked. Luckily, there's an open bottle of Amarone and my wine glasses are clean.

Giddy. Up.

Think she's trying to tell me something?

2010-01-15T12:50:00.001-05:00

This sign is now hanging on the Princess' door.

Mimi Shops with Satan

2010-01-13T19:45:00.002-05:00

Grandparents do crazy things for their grandchildren.

Especially for their oldest grandchild.

I know this, as I am the oldest grandchild on my mom's side of the family. (And if it weren't for that damned twin cousin of mine who got me by SEVEN DAYS, I'd be the oldest on both sides. Don't ask what a Twin Cousin is. Just go with it. And, no, we are not from Arkansas or Kentucky.)

Princess is the oldest grandchild on my side. And, while all of her grandparents spoil her rotten, this Christmas was CRAZY.

She's five years old, and she got a mini laptop from Gramma and Grampa (hubby's parents), because they weren't using it.
She got a Wii (family gift) and games and controllers from Oma and Papa, along with all of her hockey gear (which, came in handy at her first Beginning Hockey session).

But, the "prize" this year, goes to Mimi. My mother. And I'm not talking about the good kind of prize, either.

I love my mother. I love the way Princess says "Mimi" in that sweet, sweet little voice of hers.

Mimi is an elementary school principal. She connects with kids. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

Which, is why, I'd have thought Lucifer would have had a difficult time pulling a fast one on her.
But this Christmas, he did. And now, I'M PAYING FOR IT.

Like I said, Mimi hangs with small children all day. And kids get CRAZY around the holidays. So, I guess she cannot be blamed completely for falling victim to Lucifer and his wicked ways.

I'm sure he showed up at her door, bottle of wine in hand - so it's somewhat understandable that she mistook the "SATAN" name tag for "SANTA". I mean, it's the same letters and everything...

Mimi went hog wild on the kids this year.

(Princess is not only the oldest grandchild, she's also the only girl. So, yeah, two-for-two. Kid made out like a frickin' bandit.)

And, while most of what Princess got was very cool, I will now share with you those gifts that were clearly inspired by Satan, and not that Jolly Elf, Santa:

First up are the Williams-Sonoma "ABC Cookie Cutters". Seriously. I mean, I know the ADORABLE, brightly colored lunch box that houses these beauties is great, but they are still cookie cutters. And, there's 26 of them. AND, by their very nature, imply that someone (read: ME) needs to prepare some sort of dough substance on which these puppies can be used.
Awesome.
Cuz, I'm ALWAYS baking shit.

Strike One.

Then, there is the Cupcake Making Set. Yes, set. Get this - the box boasts that the set includes: an icing decorator bag with six different tips, 24 paper cupcake liners, a mini cupcake pan, and a 36-page cupcake cookbook.

Did you see that correctly? THIRTY-SIX FREAKING PAGES!
So, yeah, if I wasn't jazzed about making some cookie dough, imagine the utter delight with which I am anticipating the cupcake making session.
(The pan, by the way, only makes 6 at a time. So, with 24 liners provided, a little quick math tells me, I must complete the process four times. Awesome.)
I know Princess enjoys baking ... but still - I AM NOT MARTHA FREAKING STEWART OR BETTY EFFING CROCKER!

Strike Two.

And, last but not least (Satan is still getting a good chuckle outta this one), is a microphone - straight off Center Stage in hell. The stand makes noise via 3 buttons - one is a background track, one makes various rimshot sounds (the sound made on a drum set after a joke is told), and an applause button. Oh, and the microphone actually works. When plugged into it, the stand acts as a speaker for the mic.
A very. loud. annoying. speaker. Of course, my kids LOVE IT. (Yes, Little Man loves it too, so there's the added, "I had it first - No, I HAD IT FIRST" sibling exchange that mothers so adore.)

Strike Three.

Mimi always told me I was a good kid growing up, so, I ask, what gives?

My daughter is NOT a goon ... but she IS sneaky.

2010-01-10T15:34:00.004-05:00

Most little girls like "girlie" things: dance, princesses, makeup, shoes, purses, etc. My Princess has her moments with typical girlie things, but she also has a tomboy side (wonder where she gets THAT?). And, as a result, our Princess started hockey this weekend. At five years old, she is a hockey nut. She comes by it pretty naturally, hubby and I love the game, and Princess has been attending hockey games pretty religiously since she was in the womb. Seriously. My little brother played at Western Michigan, and we attended not only the games here in town, but often, those in East Lansing, Ann Arbor, Bowling Green, South Bend, etc. I got pregnant with Princess during little bro's freshman year.

And Princess, even in infancy (true story), has been interested in the game. At mere months old, her adorable little head would actually follow the action. It was amazing.
She watches. She understands. She still refers to the penalty box as the place "where Uncle Bean used to sit". It's pretty freaking cute.

This year has been the first that she has really skated herself though. For real, I mean. And, as expected, she loves it. So, after completing the "Learn To Skate" program, she could not stop talking about taking beginning hockey. She even asked if she could sleep in her pads and helmet.

So, yesterday was her first day with her "team" on the ice. At this point, they aren't playing games, but instead are learning the fundamentals of the game through small-group drills. After yesterday's practice, she could not stop talking about the fact that Coach Brian told them they would get to use pucks today.

Can you say, STOKED? (One of the other moms there today, acknowledged that her son, too, was ALL ABOUT getting to use pucks - said he almost couldn't sleep.)

Well, today's practice had maybe 7 stations set up. And each station focused on a different skill or aspect of the game utilizing different drills, etc.

There were about 50 kids on the ice today - and only 2 were girls.

In a corner of the ice, far far away from the "viewing section" (where parents sat with their travel mugs and IVs of caffeine), the following took place:

During one of the drills, Princess was on her way back to get in line, and the kid who ran the drill after her, muscled his way past her, bumped her a little and slid in line in front of her. She said something to him. He ignored her. She said it again, this time, taking one hand off her stick, to gesture. Again, he just looked and then turned back around without moving or saying anything.

Princess moved right up on his back, quietly stuck her stick between his legs, waited til it was "his turn", cocked her blade and discreetly yanked his right foot out from under him. He hit the ice. She then stepped over the carnage and took her turn ahead of him.

No one noticed but me.

I also know that while I probably should not have been proud, I actually was. But just a little. Kinda. And, GOD HELP the poor boys who (eventually) want to date her. Oy.

I asked her this afternoon if she meant to knock him down.
She said no, that they just got "tangled up".

Pretty sure she thought she was going to get into trouble, as she looked a bit surprised that I even mentioned the event. (Remember, it happened in the corner of the ice across from where she thought I was sitting. However, Little Man was not AT ALL willing to sit still, so I spent the hour chasing him all over the rink.)

Still, it was a hilarious scene to watch. Sneaky little shit.

**Another side note: I emailed this exchange to a few people, including our friend Rick. (Princess and Rick are the President and V.P. of the mutual admiration society.) And, while he referred to my demure little Princess as a GOON, he also forwarded the exchange to a friend of his who had a HILARIOUS response: you may not be proud, but I am. love her response, esp lying in wait for perfect timing. I would like to meet that kid. no bankers will take bonuses while she is in office.

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned ...

2010-01-07T15:05:00.004-05:00

I have a post rattling around in my head, but it can't seem to find a coherent path to my computer. Ironically, the subject matter is the result of a personality assessment "test" (it SO WAS/IS NOT a test) I recently took, and my interpretations as a result. Intriguing as it was, I am unable to get the blog post out of my head successfully.

**sigh**

I hate it when that happens.

GOOD NEWS: I have not been completely devoid of creativity lately, however (even if you disagree, humor me on this one).

Just the other day I was "summoned" by a dear friend via text. See, she is on the marketing committee at her church. A Catholic church. And the new, young (29) priest wants to start a blog, and he asked for some input from the committee in helping come up with a clever title for said blog (a blog, by the way, whose purpose would be to bring together his new parish and his new life as an ordained priest).

So, she sent me a text to see if I would be willing to don the ole "thinkin' cap" and offer up a suggestion or two.

After asking (serious) questions about the focus and his particular "style" (written, spoken, etc.) blah blah blah, I offered up some real (in my opinion) gems:

Behind The Cloth

Under The Robe

We Can't All Wear The Big, Pointy Hat

(And, my personal favorite:) Father, Son, Holy ... What Have I Gotten Into?!

I'll let ya know if any of my (extremely helpful) ideas get the call ...

I am a slow learner. Still.

2009-12-28T20:40:00.005-05:00

I have bruises from children that are not my own.

I mean, the bruises are mine, but the children that caused the bruising are not.

Let me explain ...

I decided to return to ski instructing this winter, at the small area where I started teaching back in 1996. It holds terrific memories for me, as it is where hubby and I met. I have been on "hiatus" for a few years (having babies and such), but this year, I'm BACK, BABY!

So, today I walk in and the ski school director says, "Oh, good, you're here!"

Initially, I thought, awww, how sweet, I've been missed. So glad I'm back.

But then, he continued, "There are TWIN 3 year olds that want a girl instructor."

To which I replied, "You're hilarious." (Because, ya know, easing oneself back into teaching is the best plan ... and you know what they say about the best laid plans...)

Joke was on me. He, in fact, was not kidding. Not even a little. At that very moment there were two little people waiting with their dad, for me.

I didn't hear the screaming and pleas for freedom until I was putting on my ski boots.

The screaming continued all the way out of the building and across the beginner area. Upon assuring the dad that he could leave whenever he wanted to, and I would be fine with the twins, despite the screams, he said his goodbyes and bolted.

His departure brought about a sound I'd not heard before.

And I'm a mom.

Twins, it seems, feed off each other. Like coyotes. Or hyenas. Or, twins. When one is screaming about needing daddy, the other (whose screams had subsided), not be outdone, chimes in as well.

The pitch and sheer volume of the screams was both impressive and wholly unbelievable. I'd never heard anything like it.

Thing 1 (twin boy) was secured to his skis, looking up to the sky, and very pathetically calling out for daddy.

Thing 2 (twin girl) was NOT secured to skis, and instead, insisted on running toward the parking lot in search of daddy.

I'm fairly certain that, (although not visible) since daddy was in the same county, he heard the screams.

Each time Thing 2 ran for freedom, I tried verbally coercing her back (each time unsuccessfully), and then resorted to chasing her on foot.

And each time I got to her, she went all wet noodle. As I lifted her up to carry her back to where Thing 1 was standing (and still wailing), her legs flailed as she kicked and squirmed in extreme protest.

Hence, the bruising. The kicks to my shins were endless. And, let's not forget that she had ski boots on at the time.

Yeah, ouch.

Oh, and because of all the screaming, or in addition to the wailing, each little nose was blowing bubbles. So, aside from attempting to stop the sounds, there were tissues flying out of my pocket faster than government bailout money for big banks. And, lets not forget that they are three, so it's not like their mittened little hands are wiping their own noses.

Now, while all this is going on, I am still trying to convince them that we are going to have fun (see, I am still a slow learner).

After getting the attention of the entire beginner area with the screaming and the flailing and the general protest, I finally convinced Thing 2 to strap on the skis.

OK, I bribed her, but, whatever.

I promised her that if she put on her skis and we started practicing our "pizza" (kid teaching lingo for the shape ones skis make while learning to stop), that I would get daddy and he could watch.

The crying and screaming stopped. Instantly.

With skis on, and small pizzas being made, daddy showed up and Things 1 & 2 went ape shit. Literally. Poor Dad stood at the bottom of the beginner area for an hour as I got the twins up the hill and down the hill.

By the end of the hour, they were going down the hill, on their own, with a smile on their faces.

They almost looked angelic, but I knew better. And so did my shins.

And, daddy asked if it would be possible for him to request me next time, since I've already been through the "routine" with them. Oy. Sure. Why not? I'm a slow learner...

So, after that lesson, a quick break doesn't seem an unreasonable request, right?

HA!

I no sooner walk back in to the ski school, when trusty director says once again, "Oh, good, you're here. Your next lesson has been waiting - it's a 5 year old girl who wants a girl instructor."

I didn't even put my skis down.

Back out to the hill with a child vocally less-than-pleased with mom and dad's decision for ski school.

Swell.

Parents apologized for the whimpering sounds coming from their child.

I told them, "Hey as long as she doesn't kick me in the shins with her ski boots mid tantrum, I'm cool."

They didn't get the joke, but I didn't care.

Her whimpering subsided when I began a line of questioning involving hot chocolate and big marshmallows vs. little ones.

After the hour was up, and another little one was skiing solo down the beginner hill (and another request for a lesson on Wednesday), I walked (more slowly this time) back to the ski school desk.

Just as I was about to announce that I was packing it in and heading home, a bright eyed little 5 year old girl walked up to the desk with her grandmother and announced she needed a lesson - from a girl. I got "the look" from the ski school director, and was once again heading out to the beginner area.

This one? This one was a fearless spitfire, full of energy. She proudly announced that she raced last year and beat all the boys.

We bonded.

She took two rides up the rope and said she wanted to hit the chair.

After the Things 1 & 2, I could do anything today. Anything.

Another hour, another little one that wants to come back and play on Wednesday.

As a result, I'll be in traction until noon on Wednesday.

And then, likely again after 4.

Clean cars and hand warmers

2009-12-20T06:20:00.009-05:00

Yesterday was a very nice day, thanks to my very dear friend, D.

Here's how things went:

8:25am: Get a call from D that goes something like this, "Hey, the roads are AWFUL. Be really careful. I am taking the kids to my parents right now and it's treacherous. I really don't think I'm going to make it in time to meet you at Coffee Bar before we - OH NO! DAMMIT! I gotta go ..."

For the next 25 minutes, visions of D and her kids in a ditch - or worse - raced through my head, until I texted, "Um, are you ok?" and she called back letting me know that they were fine, just that her life had flashed before her eyes.

OK, whew, glad it was no big deal. **Note, sarcasm** (But, seriously, she's gotta stop doing that!)

9:15am: Left house and headed to Coffee Bar for Toasted Marshmellow Americanos.

10:05am: Arrived at Auto Shine Detailing in Kalamazoo where I left the car and climbed into a Super Stretch Lincoln Navigator SUV limo for a day of pampering, shopping and fun with D and two new friends.

Oh, and it was all, FREE.

From here, the times are sketchy, since a) I don't wear a watch, and b) my phone would ring if anyone (like the babysitter) needed me!

Our limo driver, Rodney, was awesome (turns out, we'd met before, years ago, when I worked at the station and we brought David Spade to town). He carted us ALL OVER in icky weather, and was very nice.

We got massages and pampering at The Greenery Spa, we had TO DIE FOR chocolates and tea at ChocolaTea (I'm not usually a tea drinker, but, WOW yumminess), we had one more stop, which I'll get to in a sec, before heading to Olde Peninsula Brewpub for DElish eats and drinks.

OK, now, back to the final stop on the shopping leg of our adventure. Otter's Oasis. I beg of you, click on the link, and keep in mind the following: this adventure of ours was the result of a radio station holiday promotion where ANYONE has a shot at winning. Anyone.

So, the winner and her guest are both RNs at an area hospital, mid 30s, and, thankfully VERY good-natured.
We walk in and it's (as their website proclaims) Hookah Central. Literally. And, floor-to-ceiling pipes and smoking accessories, such as, Acrylic Pipes, Bubbling Hammers, Bubbling sidecars, Chillums (whose name, I can only imagine, was born after a long night of partaking in products requiring such an apparatus by a group of giggling friends over a bag of Doritos or Funyuns), Percolating Water Pipes, and, well, you get the idea.
Otter's is also THE Detox Depot in town, apparently, as their website boasts Body Cleansing Products, Emergency Cleansers, Saliva Cleansing Products and Synthetic Urine Kits.
I provide all this information not to judge, rather, to tell of the most hilarious conversational exchange of the day, and, (later) to prove a point.

So, our limo pulls up to Otter's Oasis and the four of us (all in the vicinity of 40ish) pile out. Now, we all knew what the store was, but D (being the station "representative") thought that there would be hemp jewelery, hemp clothing, and, shall we say, a wider array of product choices. Thankfully (for D and the station), while none of us are the target demo, the station's winner was not at all offended. They lucked out, for sure. Could have been really bad if the winner had been super conservative with the inability to laugh at such a scenario.

And laugh we did, especially at the exchange laid out below.

Scene: Station winner, "M" holding 2 different sized boxes of this detoxifier. Keep in mind, "M" is an adorable blonde who weighs about 95 lbs soaking wet. She'd fit in my pocket. Bitch.

Anyway ..... the conversation .....

M (to the 20ish girl working): What's the difference between the big box and the little one - they both say "Drink entire contents". (M is holding the big box, by the way).

Girl: Well, they go by how much you weigh - like this one (pointing to the one M is holding) is technically for 250 lbs and up - but it also depends on how much you use. Like me, I use A LOT, so I need the big one (she too could not have weighed much more than 110 lbs).

** So, picture a 250 lb man ... and now picture someone the size of Courtney Cox needing as much detoxifier as that man to get all the toxins out of her body from frequent "use".**

M: Oh, I don't use.

Girl (with a look that only be described as truly shocked): WHAT? Well, then why are you buying this?

M: Well, I just thought it was a body cleanser, you know, to get everyday toxins and bad stuff out of your body.

Girl: Uh, no. You don't need this. This is really, just for, like an emergency. Like if you had to take a drug test tomorrow.

It was at this point that we discovered a box of hand warmers (shit you not) and used the $100 Gift Certificate to buy several pair for each of us. Because, after all, none of us needed to cleanse for an upcoming drug test. Whew.

Have you ever been in a store with $100 (not-of-your) dollars to spend and had difficulty? I hadn't either. Until yesterday.

It was hilarious.

Then we had lunch downtown where some other friends joined. It was a great day.

When we were dropped back off at our cars, my minivan which, has fallen victim to two small children, was sparkling like the day we bought it. Seriously, it was the best Christmas present. I am thankful that D is SO BUSY she didn't have time to clean out her own minivan in time to have the detailing done, thus yours truly benefited. Mightily!

It was a wonderful day with friends and laughter. Capped by a family Rudolph-watching evening all snuggled up in one bed.

Gotta LOVE the holiday season!

A little for everyone ...

2009-12-16T15:08:00.000-05:00

My sister-in-law says blogging will make me feel better.

For the record, she also says that returning to spin class will make me feel better, too.

I say, what the hell does she know?

Okay, okay. I know she's right, but still. I haven't had time to blog - or spin (and, GoGo, if you correct me here and say I just haven't MADE time for either, I'm smacking you. Even if you are right.)

So my last post was about the Princess' first day of skating lessons.
(This Sunday is the last day of the session.)
My last post also included the trip to the ER with Little Man and his ruptured ear drum.
(Which, has since healed, although now "we" are back to waking multiple times each night - a problem that was almost cured when the whole ear issue surfaced. Ugh.)

Since my last post, we said goodbye to our dear, sweet lab/shepard mutt, Monster (we didn't name her, she came with the name). I still find myself expecting her puppy kisses on occasion when I walk in the house.
The other day, Princess said this: "Mommy, I miss Monster. I wish she wouldn't have died before Christmas, so we could have had one more holiday with her."

Ugh. Heart breaking ...

I just took the Halloween decorations down 2 weeks ago.

I still don't have the Christmas tree up.

(Hey, who do I look like, MARTHA FREAKING STEWART?!)

Since my last post I attended the city council meeting, of a city in which I do not live, to support a woman so strong and inspiring it makes me want to be a better person. I am honored and blessed to call her a friend.

I have received more "Merry Christmas" cards than "Happy Holidays" ones, and that makes me happy.

I have an opinion on Tiger Woods but am requesting privacy on the matter. My family knows where I stand on the issue and that's all that matters.

I don't believe Gov. Granholm when she says sh!t is going to turn around in our state. Not because I don't have faith that it will, I just have NO FAITH in her ability to get us there.

I am already planning how to get into a State Dinner at the White House without an invitation. Maybe I can hand deliver my ideas on healthcare reform ......

Peace.

-- Post From My iPhone

Ice skates and ERs

2009-11-22T11:07:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was the first day of ice skating lessons for the Princess.

And to say she was excited is the understatement of the century.

Papa bought her hockey skates and fixed her helmet, and Day 1 of lessons just so happened to be on the very sheet of ice she watched her Uncle Bean play hockey for the first three years of her life.

We arrived at the arena, got her skates laced and she was strutting around like she owned the place.

Parents were instructed to go assume their viewing positions and the "newbies" would hit the ice shortly.

Truer words were never spoken.

The kids began filing out of the holding area and stepping out into the ice. Princess put one blade on the ice. Fearless. Second blade hit the ice - then, her ass quickly followed suit.

The next 3 kids did the same thing. Each flopping around on the slick surface, resembling Bambi's futile attempts to stand. What at first was slightly humorous quickly turned gut wrenching as I watched Princess sitting, searching for an adult to help, and instead, being met with kid after kid stepping onto the ice and either joining her in the trenches, or maneauvering around the pile of limbs, successfully making their way out of the fray.
The tears began to flow (from her) as panic and desperation set in.
Hubby made his way to the door, walked out onto the ice and got Princess standing up and over to boards with the rest of the class. A few words of encouragement from Dad and Princess was again ready to tackle the skating challenge.

She listened intently as the instructors explained how to get back up after a fall.

(Side note: she listened SO intently, I'm considering having an ice rink built in our house. The WHOLE house.)

She was working hard, listening well and trying to do exactly what she was being told.

She was having fun - until she wasn't.

Volunteer-helper-guy motioned me over to the door with about 15 minutes left in the lesson. "She says she needs a break."

I guided her over to a bench and began telling her how well she was doing and how proud of her I was for being such a great listener.

She was wet and bruised, and seriously could have given two shits about what I was saying.

Daddy showed up. Offered similar words as mom, and was met with the same indifference.

She said she didn't want to go back out on the ice. I then began to go through scenerios for Day 2 if Day 1 didn't end on a positive note.

Thankfully, Coach Brian was called over to the door and was briefed on the situation. Before the second sentence, he spotted her through the glass,offered a scowl in her direction that rivaled her own, made her giggle, scooped her up and skated to center ice with her.

She skated (well, stepped), she didn't fall, and most importantly, she had a grin from ear to ear.

Thank God for Coach Brian.

Princess got to pick where we went for lunch.

As a result of a sensitive gag reflex, Little Man coughed til he choked and then promptly puked at the table in the middle of lunch.

Swell.

The car ride home was awesome as hubby and I tried to ignore the stench and stave off our own wretching.

Fast forward to last night ... About 9:40pm - Little Man wakes up crying.

He did not sleep again the rest of the night. And, Hubby and I tag-teamed cuddling, consoling, changing of diapers, back scratching, drink giving, problem solving .... all to no avail.

Little Man was miserable.

He cried/wimpered until 7:30am when he finally admitted that his ears hurt.

I took him downtown to a hospital that, upon arrival, I learned no longer has Express Care. ER services only.

Swell.

Since we were downtown, I pick up our friend who needs a ride to the airport, drop him off a little earlier than planned, and head to medical establishment #2 on a Sunday morning.

We were in and out in 39 minutes. Little Man took SERIOUS exception to the prodding and poking that led to a double ear infection diagnosis and possible rupture from fluid.

Swell.

As prescriptions were filled, I was informed that insurance didn't cover the numbing drops for the pain.

Swell.

(For the record, pharmicists have ZERO patience for seriously sleep-deprived moms who jokingly ask, "well, as long as you've got insurance on the phone ask them if they WILL cover drugs for mommy to sleep!")

Upon arrival at home, gold-plated ear drops in hand (they must be based on the price), I get to wrestle an exhausted toddler who FLIPPED THE HELL OUT at the mere mention of ear drops.

Swell.

Good news is .... Little Man finally sleeps.

Just in time for hubby and Princess to return from Day 2 of skating lessons.

Never a dull moment.

Stay tuned ....

-- Post From My iPhone

On My Mind

2009-11-03T22:01:00.004-05:00

The Pumpkins and PTO post is on hold, again.

Instead, today's post is of the A.D.D. variety, so strap yourself in and hang on.

(or not)

Oh, vulgar language alert. You've been warned.

Last night, the Yankees successfully pissed away another championship so as to win it at "home" tomorrow (Sorry, new stadiums don't get to be called home in their first year - especially when old home was The Shrine). By not ending it all last night, my Gilmore Girls date with hubby and Barry (tomorrow) has been rescheduled.

And that makes me crabby.

Watching the Yankees in the World Series makes me miss my Dopper. He was my baseball buddy (actually, I guess I was technically his baseball buddy), and I miss him terribly.

The Red Wings won tonight. Which makes me less crabby. A little.

I voted today. And got to vote, again, for a friend for City Council. Which makes me even more, less crabby. (I told you to strap in and hang on)

Rod Stewart needs to go away. He's going to break a hip, I fear. (Do not judge that I watch Dancing With The Stars)

I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO WATCH GREY'S ANATOMY LAST WEEK. shit.

There is a full moon, and somehow, it makes my children CRAZY. Seriously.

Princess - who has been sassy beyond belief lately - in a fit of five year old attitude rage, tripped in the dark in her room tonight and whacked her noodle on her bed rail. Instant, GINORMOUS goose egg resulted.
Totally shitty.

And tomorrow, Little Man goes back for Day 2 of preschool. I have no doubt that drop off will be tear filled as a result of the end of Day 1. For both of us.

As I said to my friend Diane tonight via text: WINE ME THE EFF UP!!!

-- Post From My iPhone

Pumpkins, Preschool and the PTO

2009-11-02T21:27:00.003-05:00

Actually, the pumpkins and PTO part are going to have to wait until tomorrow (or later).

Here's a hint though: last week I helped out in the Princess' kindergarten room for the Halloween Party and tonight was PTO meeting #2. (And, since I'm less June Cleaver than Peggy Bundy, there are some stories. Shocking, I know.)

So, that leaves us with "Preschool". See, today was Little Man's first day. And, since I've been through this before, I was ready. Prepared. Unable to be surprised, yes?

(Go ahead and laugh. It sounds as ridiculous to me typing it as I'm sure it does to you reading it.)

Now, since it's the same preschool that Princess went to, Little Man has some familiarity since he often went with me to either pick her up or drop her off.

As we walked into his room, he sat with the rest of his class at the table because it was time for breakfast. Even though he'd eaten at home, he sat down, as directed, and broke bread with his new playmates.

He kissed me, waved goodbye, and I left. (No tears, but a heavy heart for sure)

When I returned to retrieve Little Man, he was sitting at a table, GIANT crocodile tears streaming down both cheeks, and making that (what I call) hup-pup sound ... that spontaneous, uncontrollable sound a child makes every few seconds after they've been crying REALLY HARD (as they're trying to regain composure) ..... Apparently, he did great all morning and through lunch, right up until they started getting the nap mats out. Seems he thought he was going to have to nap there and wasn't interested in that plan AT ALL.

When he saw me, he reached his arms out and began wailing again, a very pitiful, heart-wrenching cry that was both relief and exhaustion. He grabbed my neck so hard, wrapped his little legs around my waist, and muttered, "HOME" sob sob sob "NOW" sob sob sob "PEEZE".

I might seriously have to drug him(and me) to get him back in there on Wednesday ....

Mickey's a mouse, Donald's a duck, and Pluto's a dog. What's Goofy?

2009-10-18T20:47:00.002-04:00

So, I stumbled upon an interesting thing … apparently, representatives from the Walt Disney World College Program will be at Western Michigan University tomorrow for recruiting purposes.

The press release on WMU’s website says the program offers a paid fall semester internship at Disney World (Orlando, FL) that provides living, learning and work experience.

** I will mention here, that I was involved with this program during a summer long, LONG ago. But I was at Disneyland (Anaheim, CA). **

Hold that thought. I’ll get back to summer 1989 in a sec …

So, the Walt Disney World College Program's “learning aspect” (which now has a fancy-shmansy name), is outlined as including “core business classes, elective seminars and self-directed study opportunities”.

I’m here to tell you that two outta those three things did not exist back in the day. And the phrase “study opportunities” leaves room for interpretation, I think.

But I digress …

The “work experience” is described as placing students “in positions at various theme parks, resorts and other Disney operations. Students serve as ‘cast members’ in areas such as merchandising, transportation, attractions, food services, custodial services, hospitality and serving as lifeguards”.

TRANSLATION: You WILL NOT get to be Mickey or Donald, Cinderella, Snow White or any of the dwarfs.
“Other Disney operations”, means GOOD LUCK landing a gig in the Magic Kingdom … (and if, by chance, you do, duties could include filling bins with 3-D glasses, placing them in a giant Freon (I think) machine to disinfect them, and then stacking the bins of clean glasses to be reused.)

Yep, that was one of the duties for which I was responsible back in the day. Actually, I landed a (mostly) cool gig thanks to some family favors called in on my behalf. I worked at the “Captain EO” attraction. (If you are unfamiliar, that was the 3-D sci fi film that starred Michael Jackson, was directed by Francis Ford Coppola, and the executive producer was George Lucas.) The film ran at the Disney theme parks back in the 80s and 90s.

Aside from Welcome scripts, pre- and post-show scripts, and general crowd control duties, we, as “cast members” also had the shitty task of cleaning all the 3-D glasses. Lucky for me, I was one of the few people who truly enjoyed memorizing and delivering those speeches to crowds of up to 800 people, and other “cast members” (seriously, that’s what Disney workers are called) who preferred not to hold the mic and hear themselves over the speakers, were all too eager to trade duties. So, I took extra turns hamming it up with the crowds (shocking) and skipped a few rotations in the 100+ degree heat at the freon machine thingy.

OK, so back to the whole “learning experience” part of the internship description … I was in California, and most of the students in the program were either from Arizona or Arizona State. And, they were CRAZY PARTY PEOPLE. CRAZY. PARTY. PEOPLE.

We worked all night (true story – the park was rented out for Grad Night parties and stuff) and slept or beached it during the days.

And there were “field trips” sponsored by the program. We went to some pretty cool places, but the most memorable adventure was the bus trip to Tijuana. The trip itself is for an entirely different blog post altogether, suffice it to say, for a couple of us, it was a one way bus trip...

So back to the whole "learning aspect" of the Walt Disney World College Program - I took no core business classes, and as far as the "elective seminars and self-directed study opportunities" are concerned, who wouldn't LOVE a syllabus that includes happy hour at a local Mexican restaurant and pitchers of CHEAP margaritas? I mean, c'mon.

OK, seriously, here’s what I learned:
1) I know the difference between Chip and Dale
2) I can name all 7 dwarfs
3) "They" (Disney honchos) mean it when they say "cast members" cannot point. Under penalty of death (or at least a severe tongue lashing), if a guest asks for directions, you must use your whole hand (or at least TWO fingers) when gesturing - YOU MAY NOT USE YOUR INDEX FINGER AND POINT. Ever.
4) Had I attended ASU, I would certainly have perished due to alcohol poisoning.
5) (This one is important) When taking a group bus trip to Tijuana – the departure times are NOT approximates. They’re real. And if you’re late, trying to get outta Mexico can take a LONG time and cost A LOT of money. (Also, FYI, US Customs frowns upon open bottles of tequila being carried into the country … even if you’re walking.)

6) Oh yeah, and I know Goofy is NOT a dog.

Is there a syllabus for the PTO?

2009-10-05T22:51:00.005-04:00

As I have documented recently on this blog, Princess started kindergarten this year.

Also noted here and here, only one of us suffered any kind of separation anxiety about the start of the school year.

As a result, when the school newsletter came out - complete with the PTO meeting dates - I diligently put them into my calendar an announced to hubby that I planned on attending.

So, tonight was the first PTO meeting I attended.

As a matter of fact, I was SO looking forward to attending, I texted my mom to tell her (since she is an elementary school principal), and, even made it my facebook status update today:
Kalamazoo Mom of 2 is going to her first PTO meeting tonight ... think this announcement will deter her from getting volunteered for things: "A) I have no idea what my kids will be for Halloween, and when they do decide, NO I will not be making the costumes, B) My 5 year old never had an actual birthday party with her friends this year, C) I like wine ... A LOT, and D) I DO NOT BAKE!"?

See? SO. Looking. Forward. To it. (Big thanks to my friend, Barry, for commenting that he LOVED the status update and that is was SO me. Wait, maybe that wasn't a compliment?)

I will tell you this, that status update garnered more responses than just about any other I've had to date. The support of my friends (and family) was simply overwhelming; from the serious suggestions of partaking in post-PTO "madness" drinking, to those (hilarious ones) which made mention of becoming PTO President or social committee member ... the comments were plentiful:

My sister-in-law was eloquent, "Here's the deal, YOU say what all those other mommy's would love to say, but don't. Just remember, 'inside voice, inside voice'".
While her husband took a more direct approach, "two words: pie hole. Keep that puppy shut tight." (BTW, my mother, THE ELEMENTARY SCHOOL PRINCIPAL agreed with brother-in-law's suggestion...)
Our family doc (who, I'm still not entirely convinced actually went to medical school, but, whatever) added his two cents (which will likely cost me a $35 co-pay): "I've written a doc note to get someone out of a PTO function. They're serious! HINT: DON'T GO!"

There were others ... all of the same ilk.

Well, 6:15 rolled around and I headed out the door to the meeting.
As I pulled into the parking lot, I was on the phone with a girlfriend, whose chuckling (at my PTO meeting attendance) I interrupted:

"Oh shit - everyone is getting out of their cars carrying notebooks and boxes and stuff! All I have is my iPhone and a coffee. The meeting starts in two minutes ... I can't be empty handed AND late! Gotta go!"

Her laughter at that point would have made a hyena jealous.

I navigated to the Media Center, where the meetings are held, grabbed a piece of paper from a stack that the two moms in front of me had also grabbed, then sat down (in the back, away from the "action").

I looked at the paper in my hand - it was an agenda. While the moms around me had their Trapper Keepers and pens poised to take notes, I was digging through my purse praying I wasn't going to have to use my Aveda lip liner as a writing utensil.

A man called the meeting to order (seriously), and asked for a motion to pass the minutes from the previous meeting ... there was a "second" ... and "all in favor" ... and a "anyone opposed" ...

Dr. Nick was right - serious stuff, indeed.

There was a Treasurer's Report (and here I thought we were going to talk bake sales and father-daughter dances) and lots of discussion on various fundraisers (including one about creating our own cookbook - yeah, I'm SO OUT on THAT one, unless there's a section for beverages).

Lists were passed around for volunteers on all sorts of things (I actually almost volunteered for one, as a joke, which would have had me making dinner as part of an auction item "A Week of Dinner from the PTO", but refrained since I'm not sure anyone else would have appreciated the attempt at humor), but I sat there quietly and did not make eye contact.

We got updates on Skate Night, Movie Night, Spirit Wear sales, the Student Directory (which apparently had quite a bidding process), Popcorn and Picture Day (2 separate days).

Still, I just listened. I was a sponge (although, by this point, I was drifting a little and began to wonder how long it would take me to actually read the ENTIRE encyclopedia set I was staring at through most of the meeting).

All of a sudden, the meeting was adjourned.

I made it.

My name appeared on no lists. I was not asked to bake anything. I had to action items to complete before the next meeting. (And, no, I was not made PTO President).

I did it.

I won.

Well ... almost.

Somehow, I was suckered into buying a Spirit Wear t-shirt for the Princess ($5) and 2 of her class pictures ($4 a piece).

Final score: PTO, $13 - Rockstar Mommy, ZERO.

Damn ... so close.

My Girl Rocks

2009-09-17T15:55:00.001-04:00

It's a gorgeous, early fall day here today, so after Little Man went down for his nap, Princess and I took off for some errand running and some fun.

It's almost impossible to ignore the rejeuvinating effects of being outside on a day such as this.

Princess and I are having a blast, and, per usual, she has said some hilarious things:

HER: Guess what mom?

ME: What, sweetie?

HER: Isaac, from school, lost 3 teeth in a row!

ME: Wow! 3 teeth? That's crazy!

HER: Yeah, he had the hat trick of lost teeth.

Are. You. Kidding. Me??!!!!

If you don't know hockey, this conversation was likely lost on you.

But if you do, you understand why I think my 5 year old rocks!

School buses and broken hearts

2009-09-15T15:31:00.006-04:00

I have been meaning to blog about Princess' first real day of kindergarten since last week. I posted here about the actual first day of kindergarten, but as I noted, she failed to recognize it as the official first day since I was allowed to stay with her the whole time.

Kids.

Well, little Miss Independent showed up in spades on Wednesday morning ... Popped out of bed (she is a notoriously S-L-O-W riser in the mornings), ate everything that was placed in front of her (nary a nose wrinkle), got dressed without issue, brushed her teeth without asking "have I brushed enough yet" 67 times, and even stood perfectly still while getting her hair brushed.

She gleefully grabbed her backpack and proudly announced, "I'm ready!"

Only problem? Mommy wasn't. So. Wasn't. Ready.

Alas, the whole family headed outside for pictures and the trek to the bus stop.

SIDE NOTE: Little Man, not to be outdone, took one look at Princess' backpack and immediately started yelling "BACKPACK ME!" (Which, actually sounded more like Bat. Pat. Mmmeeeeeeeee.)

Princess had a spring in her step that would make Mary Lou Retton jealous, while I felt as if someone had replaced my bones with quick dry concrete on speed. Everything around me was moving so fast - and I was dragging an anvil to the party.

And my heart? It was breaking. Actually, it was bouncing around with all 40 pounds of my enthusiastic 5 year old skipping ten feet in front of me.

And, it was about to board a bus. Without me.

Excruciating doesn't even begin to describe it.

Hubby and I stood at the bus stop watching Princess practically burst with excitement as the bus rounded the corner.

Bus stopped.

Doors opened.

Princess bounded toward the bus.

(Mom instinctively followed, hiding behind the camera - literally and figuratively.)

She sat where she was told. Smile on her face. Even had a cheery, "Hello" for her bus driver.

She had an equally cheery, "Bye, Mom!"

Heart. Broken.

Itty bitty pieces parts. In that 5 year old's backpack.

Doors closed.

Princess waved and flashed that million dollar smile through the window.

Bus pulled away.

Mommy in tears.

I had a lot of very supportive, empathetic and sympathetic calls, emails and messages from friends and family about how quickly this next journey will pass, and how thankful I should be that she is so excited. And they're right .... and I am.

Next big hurdle was resisting the urge to follow that bus to school. Again, I received lots of input form friends and family about whether I should or should not, but this email from our friend, Rick (a bachelor with no kids, mind you), was the funniest.

If you follow the bus to school this morning, your daughter will automatically begin to ignore you, not tell you things, be embarrassed by you (especially around her friends) and, generally-speaking, sell drugs. She will sneak booze at 13, steal the car at 14, be pregnant by 16 and have all three of you in therapy by 17. You will ruin all the hard work you've put in these first five years and become so frustrated with her that you'll pray a different bus comes along to pick her up -- one that you have no desire to follow.

Or, you could just watch, wave, dab a tear or two, go back in the house, pour a glass of wine, and pat yourself on the back for a job well done.

Then go to your meeting drunk.

(Hey, you said you were going to be worthless during it, anyway. Why not be happy?)

For the record: I did not follow the bus to school that morning. Just in case.

I could TOTALLY be a U.S. Senator

2009-09-08T20:39:00.002-04:00

A friend of mine, had a facebook status update this evening that prompted this post. It was a link to the Huffington Post highlighting a video of Al Franken drawing, from memory, a map of the U.S. (yes, all 50 states) at the Minnesota State Fair recently.

As the article says, "The video is set to music, so it's impossible to hear any "oohs" or "ahhs" from the audience."

It also goes on to say that, "This isn't the first time Sen. Franken drew the map for an audience. Franken showed off his cool party trick and auctioned it off during a 2007 Democratic fundraiser in Minnesota."

I watched the video.

And, I have to admit, he did a nice job (both times).

So, it got me thinking ...

Back in fifth grade, I had to learn a song called "Presidential Boogie". As a result, I still know all the U.S. Presidents. In order. (Talk about your cool party tricks!)

All that's missing, I guess, is the video.

And then, I'm on my way to being a Senator, yes?

I was TOTALLY ready ...

2009-09-08T10:28:00.003-04:00

I stressed for nothing.

I was totally fine.

Didn't use one Kleenex. Not one.

Yep, today was the Princess' first day of Kindergarten. And, as expected, she was excited and had a blast.

Less predictable was mommy's reaction. I was anxious, and sure I would single-handedly help Kleenex surpass sales goals for the month.

But, I was a total rock star. Just ask me.

Don't believe me? Here was our schedule today:

Princess woke up and had breakfast.

Princess got dressed.

Pictures taken.

Whole family loaded into car.

Mommy and Princess were dropped off at school. More pictures. Then we patiently waited for bell to ring before proceeding to Princess' room.

Bell rang. We walked.

Princess signed her name, mommy filled out paperwork, Princess met and played with some of her classmates.

We met with the teacher. Got a picture with her. Played some more. And then our ride returned to take us home.

As we walked the halls and out of the school, I had a sense of relief. She was happy. I was happy. All seemed right in the world.

As I loaded Princess into the van and climbed into the front seat, I proudly exclaimed to hubby - "I didn't cry at all!! Not one tissue!! Yay me!"

To which he replied, "Honey, YOU WERE WITH HER THE WHOLE TIME!"

(*See, tomorrow is when we put her on the bus and wave goodbye for her first REAL day of kindergarten. So, he's right.)

But, still. That was just mean. Baby steps, yes?

I'm Not Ready for Kindergarten

2009-09-07T20:07:00.001-04:00

But my five year old is. Totally.

Which is a good thing.

Actually, it's a great thing.

We've been talking about kindergarten in our house for weeks ... no, months, at least.

Tomorrow is just a warm-up day. Parents and their kindergarten angels go in together. And, I'm thinking this serves to break-in us parents more than our babies.

I consider myself a strong, independent woman. Most who know me would, I think, agree. But sending my first to kindergarten has rendered me completely - smooshy.

So, you can imagine the waterworks tonight when, as Princess and I were getting her clothes ready for tomorrow, the phone rang - Oma and Papa called to wish Princess a happy first day of school.

Damn them.

I mean, how sweet. But, really, DAMN THEM!

Princess gleefully thanked them, told them she loved them and hung up the phone.

She then turned to find her mother fidgeting with the Disney Princess Alarm Clock as tears rolled down my cheeks.

HER: "Mom, are you crying?"

ME: "Yes, sweetie. I'm just happy you're going to have so much fun in school."

HER: (after a pause and with a skeptical look on her face) "You're crying because you're going to miss me, aren't you?"

Busted.

Totally. Friggin. Busted.

Then she hugged me and said the cookies after school tomorrow (more on that after Day 1 of Kindergarten) will make me feel better.

She's right. But there's no way she's going to understand why until her baby heads off to kindergarten one day.

-- Post From My iPhone

Lesson Learned

2009-09-03T10:26:00.001-04:00

Note to self:
If you have an eye "issue", and you wear contacts, no amount of cleaning will rid said contacts of the ick. Throw them away and move on to a new pair.

Period.

Seems like I should be smarter than that after all these years, no?

Very. Slow. Learner.

And now the eye infection is back as a result.

Sweet.

-- Post From My iPhone

The Art of Finding Stuff

2009-08-27T12:57:00.001-04:00

Every mom knows that children (and sometimes husbands) will ask where an item is before looking for said item first.

And, while us moms have an uncanny ability to find stuff, it's mostly because we are often the ones who use the superpower of actually LOOKING for things.

I have decided that I am going to assist my family in acquiring such superpowers.

Here's a conversation that just happened in our house:

PRINCESS: Mom I can't find my heels.

ME: Did you look in your shoe bin?

PRINCESS: Yes, now can you just help me find them?

ME: Sure. I'm going to get up and go look in your shoe bin - if they're there, you DON'T get to wear them.

PRINCESS: Um .... ok - hang on I'll go look again.

Princess walked out. Hubby laughed and then said to me, "Where's my phone? I need to call your mother!"

-- Post From My iPhone

I Hate Knoxville ...

2009-08-20T15:12:00.005-04:00

... Cincinnati, too, but that is for another post.

I just returned from a road trip with my mom and the kiddos. We had a great time at Lake Lure, NC.

HOWEVER, as with most car trips (especially ones that involve small children), our adventure was not without its share of snafus.

Dare I say, more than our share of snafus. (Again, for another post)

In order for the title of this post to have the full effect - a bit of history is necessary:

About 6 years ago, my brother graduated from college and got married (in North Carolina) on consecutive weekends. Only a few of us made plans to attend both AND spend the week in between in NC. The drive down included my mom, my brother (not the one getting married), "Ike" (best friend of brother who was getting married), and me. I did most of the driving, as usual, since I actually like to drive. But I'm not a fan of night driving. At all.
At some point in Tennessee, I told baby bro he was up. His turn to drive. Instructions were clear, make sure he stayed on the road we were already on. That's it.

Yeah, guess what? He didn't. And while I slept, he managed to turn us from heading east (into the mountains), to heading south toward ... Knoxville.

I guess it's at this point that I should thank the cop that pulled baby bro over for speeding otherwise, I might still be sleeping, and WHO KNOWS where we'd be today ....
After the encounter with the officer, baby bro didn't want to drive anymore, so yours truly took over driving duties again. I quickly realized we were heading in the wrong direction, and the signs on the side of the road no longer said the same road I'd told baby bro to stay on. With the whole car awake, baby bro swears he never turned. Which, is true. Problem is, the road turned, so he should have as well.

But I digress .....

So, there we are, in the middle of BFE with no idea where "BFE" is in relation to where we are supposed to be.

Then it hits me, I HAVE ONSTAR!!! So, I press the blue button, a very nice man answers, and the following conversation takes place:

HIM: Hello Kalamazoo Mom of 2, my name is Kevin, how may I assist you?

ME: Hi, Kevin. Question for you, can you tell me where I am?

KEVIN: Are you lost?

ME: (thinking that was the dumbest question on the planet, but still needing his assistance ...) Yes.

KEVIN: Hold on one moment and I'll pull up your information. (pause) You're in Tennessee on Hwy X

ME: Yeah, I guess I should have been more specific. Could you tell me how to get from where I am to Blowing Rock, NC?

KEVIN: HHmmmmm. Actually, it looks like you don't have the "Directions and Connections Package", you just have the basic OnStar package.

ME: Yeah, I don't know what any of that means. I just need to get to Blowing Rock, North Carolina. Can you do that?

KEVIN: Well, with the Basic Package I can help you with restaurant guides, movie tickets, and ....

ME: (interrupting) Kevin, it's midnight, I'm lost, and I have no desire to see a movie, even IF there were a cinema anywhere in the vicinity of my current location. Can you please just give me directions to Blowing Rock?

KEVIN: Ma'am, as I said, you do not have the Directions and Connec ...

ME: (interrupting again) Hang on, let me get this straight, Kev, my navigational system can make me dinner reservations and line up a movie, but at this juncture, it CANNOT navigate me to my desired destination?

KEVIN: Ma'am, as I said, you do not have the ....

ME: (interrupting once again) Yeah, I got it. I don't have that package ... Kevin, you seem like an intelligent man. I'm going to ask you a series of questions to which you can simply answer "yes" or "no". I know its not part of your script, but hang in there, we can get through this together. OK?

KEVIN: (actually sounding slightly amused) Sure.

ME: Given the conversation we are having, and knowing my situation, if I told you that I left Detroit today and was heading for Blowing Rock, NC would you say I'm on the most efficient route?

KEVIN: No, Ma'am.

ME: Would you say that my route got significantly less efficient within the last hour or so?

KEVIN: Yes ma'am, I would.

ME: If there was one thing that would let me know I was heading in the WAY WRONG direction at this point, what would it be?

KEVIN: A sign welcoming you to Knoxville.

ME: Alrighty then. Thanks.

KEVIN: No problem, Ma'am. Is there anything else I can assist you with tonight?

ME: Not right now. I'll call you when I get to .....

Just then, "Ike" pipes up from the backseat reading aloud a sign he sees, "Welcome to Knoxville".

Crap.

STRIKE 1 for Knoxville.

Last year, my mom, the kids and I took a road trip. We drove to Asheville first, which meant driving through Knoxville (on purpose, this time). Upon arrival in Knoxville last year, we came to an abrupt halt for 2+ hours. Construction (and ultimately some accidents) caused us to go about 2 miles in 2 hours with no escape. Finally, hubby figured a way out and navigated us from afar (he was still in Michigan). So, our 10-11 hour road trip was extended by more than 2 hours, and I was less than pleased with night driving (again) through the mountains, with overtired children.

STRIKE 2, Knoxville.

Road Trip 2009 to Lake Lure, NC
So, you'd think that this year I'd find an alternate route, yes?

But, as we've learned, I'm a slow learner. VERY EFFING SLOW.

Plus, third time is a charm, right?

Yeah, not so much. At least not in my world ...

And, for some reason, it seemed really smart (note sarcasm) to add a twist to the road trip hijinx: pick up cousin who would be landing in Knoxville (from NYC) and driving the rest of the trip with us. She was scheduled to land at 11:30pm, which, was exactly the time we figured we'd be hitting Knoxville (late start this year).

All was going well. Kids were behaving. Weather was great. No traffic. No construction. No problems.

Mom and I even joked about the irony of picking up cousin E in Knoxville. We laughed at our previous "run-ins" with that city.

Yeah, Karma was listening. She had a plan. And she kicked us in the ass.

About 20 miles north of the airport, I came around a bend, saw nothing but brake lights and came, once again, to a screeching halt. On a major Interstate.

Are. You. EFFING. Kidding. Me???

Not again. For the love of all that's holy, NOT AGAIN!!!!

There we sat, kids awake from the sudden slamming of the brakes, at a dead stop for 2 hours. I don't mean, crawling slowly, or stop-n-go. I'm talking dead. friggin. stop. Like cars turned off, people out of their vehicles and walking around (partying) on I-75. For 2 hours. Hell, there was even a U-Haul type truck loaded with college kids who got out and literally partied on the side of the road.

Seriously.

Strike 3.

I'm already planning Road Trip 2010 ... it includes a ride through Knoxville simply to see what could possibly happen next.

WHO'S WITH ME?????

Here's Your Sign ...

2009-08-11T06:35:00.001-04:00

Twitter has "RT" which means to Re-Tweet, and it's a nice, acceptable way to repeat or "steal", a tweet.

Get it, re-tweet?.

If you re-tweet someone, it's a compliment. It means, you found the tweet interesting or informative or substantive enough to share with your own followers on Twitter.

Have I lost anyone yet?

Well, in blogland, I'm not sure what the equivalent a Re-Tweet is, but I'm doing it today.

Kind of.

See, I have a friend who is a very talented writer (mark my words, someday he will be published so jump on the bandwagon via his blog now). And he has started what he calls an "interactive" feature on his blog. He's named it "Stupid Signs and Other Explosive Misuses of the English Language", and, if you read my post not too long ago about some of my pet peeves regarding English language misuse, you understand why this new feature on my friend Rick Shanley's blog strikes a chord with me.

So, I'm stealing his idea - not as a recurring theme, necessarily (he encourages reader participation - see a sign that qualifies, take a pic, email it to him, he'll post it), but at least for today.

See, those of us that reside here joke, that, living in Michigan (or Illinois, Indiana or Wisconsin) affords us the opportunity to enjoy two seasons annually - Winter and construction. More than half of our year is spent navigating orange barrels, detours, unanticipated congestion or traffic, and seemingly perfectly usable lanes closed in our greatest time of need (damn the structural integrity of the road, or a bridge, I AM IN A HURRY).

Posted speed limits drop significantly in construction zones.

Got it.

Posted speed limits drop even further when workers are present (define "present" exactly - can I put the pedal to the metal until I actually get to the workers, or must I slow down once simply having a visual?).

Got it.

My favorite are the signs that warn of impending construction and nightly lane closures. Actually, those are my second favorites - first are the signs that predict the end date of a specific project ... you know the ones, "Rest Area Closed: predicted re-open date June 11, 2012".

Thanks for the heads up, but I gotta pee right now. (I mean, I'm sure I will also have to pee on June 11, 2012, but I highly doubt I'll use your rest area. Just in case, I'll pencil you in for a rendezvous at say, noonish?)

OK, where was I? Oh yeah - construction ......

So, there is construction on a road near our house. And yes, it's a pain in the ass. And, like always, whenever road improvements are made and the project is completed, the road reopens, it's all pretty and shiny and new ... we forget the hassle, pain and inconvenience that went into making something so wonderful.

It's a lot like childbirth (only without the really good drugs).

Back to the road under construction near our house - and the "borrowing" of my friend's new blog feature ......

While driving down this orange barrel-filled road, on a trip to the bank that was taking me five times as long to complete due to said construction, I was irritated and crabby.

And just as I was about to start pulling my hair out ... I looked up and saw the most fitting sign - at that exact moment, my thoughts appeared on a billboard:

So. True.

(Of course, the whole "24 Hour Gym Access" reminded me that I actually have no excuse NOT to work out, but I'm ignoring that part of the sign. Hey, it's my blog, I'm allowed.)

Goin' Mobile

2009-08-07T06:56:00.001-04:00

I can now blog from my phone.

Totally Rockstar!

-- Post From My iPhone

Employee of the Month

2009-08-05T14:41:00.002-04:00

OK – so here’s my question: if you were a business owner, would you not try to hire employees who, not only enjoy working for you, but who are also walking, talking billboards, if you will, for your business?

Now, I’m not saying that they need to be Guerrilla Marketers for you, but as an owner, I’m thinking you’d like to have employees that drive customers TO your business, and not the opposite, yes?

(And, yes, that’s a rhetorical question.)

So, I’m sitting in the Radisson Plaza Hotel atrium in downtown Kalamazoo getting some work done (although, not as efficiently as I’d hoped since I CANNOT CONNECT TO THEIR FREAKING WIFI – but, I digress …), and an employee from a local sub shop sits at the table next to me, and "eats" her lunch (more on that in a sec).

A few moments later, a young man, obviously in town for the USTA Boys Tennis Championships (not the exact name I don’t think, but whatever) walks in and sits in the area across from us.

After a few minutes, the girl looks up from her computer, and the following conversation ensues:

HER: How many of you are there?

HIM: Here at the hotel? Or in the Tournament?

HER: I don’t know. Either, I guess.

HIM: Um, a lot. 256 in the draw, but I don’t think we’re all staying here in the hotel.

HER: Wow. That’s a lot. They told us at work that there’d be a lot of you, but they didn’t say how many exactly.

(awkward silence)

HER: Stay away from “sub shop”. It’s terrible. I have to go back there at 4. I’m dreading it, and I don’t want it to be swamped. Plus the food isn’t good.

HIM: (packing up his stuff and walking away) OK … um …… thanks, I guess.

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?

It took everything in me to NOT lean over, tap her on the shoulder and say, “Really? REALLY? The food isn’t good? I notice you didn’t seem to mind too much while crumbs were flying from your face during the 30 seconds it just took you to devour a fully loaded 12-inch sub!”

But, that would have been judgmental, so instead, I’m blogging about it.

Can't make this stuff up ...

2009-08-01T18:36:00.006-04:00

Apparently, it has been a while since I last blogged ...... (so says my wonderful cousin, who commented as "Anonymous" on my last post - of which she was the subject - asking when I was going to blog again. Then, she called me a not very nice name.)

So, I'm blogging. Again.

For those of you that follow (thanks for that, by the way), you're familiar with the pattern - lots of posts, then I go away for a while. No more apologizing, it's what I do. Deal with it. (I finally have.)

Since my last post, much has happened:

Hubby and I went to Vegas to celebrate 10 years.

My grandfather, Dop, about whom I blogged here, passed away (thus taking me to Dallas for 5 days). Thankfully, it was peaceful and without much suffering. I thank God for that every day. And I miss him terribly.

The Princess went on an adventure with Oma to North Carolina (as a matter of fact, she is en route home to me now from Detroit Metro with Daddy, and I know WITH CERTAINTY that I am more excited to see her than vice versa, but I'm cool with that).

And life has gone on.

(It always does, doesn't it?)

Each of these events oozes with blog fodder (and I may return to them as source material later), but today ... today I blog about events from this week. Two days in particular - this past Tuesday and today.

Tuesday was, without a doubt, one of the most bizarre days in my life.

A dude on a bike bit it HARDCORE after having just passed me on the sidewalk outside my favorite coffee place, The Coffee Bar (downtown Kalamazoo), where I was meeting a girlfriend. Then, a cooler (a basic Coleman cooler), which ultimately landed on the same corner as the aforementioned bicycle biffing, came flying off the back of a truck and shot across the street. (My girlfriend suggested it was not only a good thing I was surrounded by concrete while sitting with her, but that I might consider the use of a bubble in which to reside for the rest of the day!)

A little later in the day, I was driving down a 55mph street, following a really old van. I should have taken a picture, but here is the best description I can give: full-sized Chevy van, circa 1985, whose "paint job" was camouflage. Full on camo. The bumper was being "held on" with no less than 6 bungee cords. And, apparently, the owner of this piece of luxury should have sprung for an additional pack of bungees because, yep you guessed it, the bumper fell off the back of the van and onto the road right in front of me! I swerved - didn't hit anything - and proceeded to my destination with caution.

Seriously? I either pissed the Big Guy off something fierce, or my Guardian Angels were in line for some overtime. (Or both)

Upon returning home, I was forbidden from flying solo with the grill that night as planned (a friend was coming over to introduce me to Season 1 of Gilmore Girls, which I LOVED, btw). Hubby went to play golf, I ordered delivery for the Gilmore Girls marathon.

So, that was Tuesday. At least, what I can recall (it's Saturday night now, and I'm old).

Cut to this morning ....

As I mentioned, Princess has been gone since last Saturday, and is, as I type, on her way home!!!! While I have missed her terribly, it has been quite a week with the Little Man. Since he actually is able to get a word in edge wise, he has taken full advantage by attempting to master the English language in the last few days alone. Which is cool.

What is not cool, however, is his sudden interest in freedom. He has become a total flight risk. He realizes he can open and close doors. And this morning, I realized he can lock them.

(See where this is headed?)

So, with Hubby on the east side of the state to play golf with my dad and pick up the Princess tonight, I decided to take Little Man to the in-laws lake for the day. After packing up our stuff for a day trip, I decided to let the dog stay outside while we were gone. Which meant I needed to put her water dish on the deck.

I opened the screen door and walked out onto the deck. I was not more than 2 steps outside, and I hear what sounds suspiciously like the sliding glass door closing ... and then locking.

Shit. Are you FREAKING KIDDING ME?

I was trying to be calm yet forceful whilst shouting through the glass at Little Man to come unlock the door and let mommy in so we can go to the lake.

Instead, he climbed up in his sister's booster at the table and grabbed a stack of papers from her preschool.

I was still outside (almost begging now) trying to convince him to get down and unlock the door.

SIDE NOTE: Our house backs up to a city-owned retention pond. And, yesterday morning, a crew began work back there with all kinds of equipment and earth-moving apparatus. The crew was back this morning, and, of course, no loud machinery was operating while I was (loudly) pleading with the 2 year old to let me back in the house. Awesome.

Just as I begin to realize there is another option (albeit one that would require me to leave him alone and out of my sight for whatever amount of time it would take me to walk around the house, use the keypad on the garage door and get to him via the door to the house from the garage) - I notice that he has something in front of him that wasn't there a second ago.

It's one of Princess' art projects from school. An octopus who has (diligently I'm sure) been decorated with Cheerios. Glued on Cheerios.

I need to call Elmer's because their bonding agent was no match for Little Man who proceeded to pick off said Cheerios and eat them, while Mom watched stunned and helpless, palms pressed firmly against the glass of the sliding door while yelling:

"NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

Yeah, Little Man didn't care.

By the way, anyone know, with certainty, how much glue is "too much" to ingest?

Is that REALLY his hand on my ass?

2009-07-14T20:47:00.007-04:00

My baby brother recently got married.

As usual, lots of family in town, and parties for, no shit, like 6 days straight. It was epic.

Lots of food. Lots of family time. LOTS of alcohol (some of us more than others - I won't name names ...). And, of course, a ton of fun.

So, cut to the day of the wedding (which was actually Day 4 of all the drinking and debauchery): wedding was at 2pm in Plymouth, MI. Reception was not until 6pm in South Lyon, MI. Do the math, that's a LOT of hours for people to get their drink on after the ceremony and before the real party started.

We've all been there. You know the place. The place where you show up to the reception already feeling "pretty darned good".

(I'm officially offended at those of you reading this right now who think I am speaking about myself. I mean really, who shows up half in the bag to their own brother's reception?)

(OK, it COULD have been me - but this time, it was not.)

See, I have some crazy cousins (who doesn't?). And a handful of said crazies live in (or are from) Texas. And the whole lot of them traveled north, attitudes in tow, to turn southeast Michigan upside down.

One cousin in particular, we'll call her "Reagan", is, shall we say, feisty.

And so, at the (what turned out to be) pre-party, or tailgate, if you will prior to the reception (at my Dad and stepmom's house), Reagan noticed a boy. (Reagan also noticed the frig full of beer.) And not just any boy. This boy is my other brother's best friend. We'll call him "Ike".

Ike and my brother (the one not getting married on this day) go WAY back. Hell, Ike and our whole family go WAY back. For being two pretty smart people, they did some really dumb shit back in the day. REALLY. DUMB. SHIT.

And, often, being the (much) older sibling, I was in a position to have been fortunate enough to "stumble" upon the seemingly never-ending idiocy. I covered for the two of them a lot.

But I digress ......

So, Ike. We love him.

And, as our family and extended family gathered for pictures just prior to the actual start of the reception, in walks Ike.

And Reagan notices.

So much so, that as we are walking in to be seated, she pulls me aside and conveys her opinion to me on his - and I think I have the words correct here - "extreme hotness".

Always the quick thinker, I head directly to Ike, put my arm in his and say, "Walk with me."

He gets the all-too-familiar "Oh shit, what'd I do now?" look on his face ..... (I chuckled, but quickly moved on, time was a-wastin')

ME: "So, my cousin thinks you're pretty hot."

IKE: "Yeah? Which one?"

ME: (point to Reagan, who I'm pretty sure realized what I was up to, but was just liquored up enough not to care)

IKE: (obviously embarrassed and flattered) "Wow. Really?"

ME: "Yep. And here's the thing, you are actually supposed to be sitting at a table with some of my friends, but Reagan is at my table, and we have an empty seat if you're interested."

Ike didn't actually sprint to our table - but it was close.

Once seated, the usual reception rituals ensued .... introductions, cake cuttings, dances, toasts, etc. Then the DJ announced what would happen any time glass-clinking occurred. Before the bride and groom would kiss, the names of 2 people would be announced and those two people would need to demonstrate (with each other) "the perfect kiss", at which point, the bride and groom would then give it "the old college try".

Anyone see where this is going?

So, I'm going to let the cat out of the bag and say I was pretty sure the names being "randomly" drawn, were, in fact, not so random.

But whatever.

So, the kissing demonstrations go on throughout dinner. It was both disturbing (I mean, really, who wants to see one of their parents mackin' in front of a room full of people?) and hilarious (pretty much everyone else, including some of our best friends from Kzoo).

At some point during dinner, I have a brilliant idea. How funny would it be if DJ dude calls out Reagan and Ike for a kissing demonstration?

So, I enlisted the help of Ike's age-old partner in crime, my brother. Who also happened to be the best man that day. And who also happened to deliver the most hilarious best man speech I have ever heard. Ever. (As a result, brother had everyone in the room - including DJ dude - eating outta the palm of his hand that day.)

I quickly bring brother up to speed with the events that have transpired while he was toasting and head-tabling, then I tell him my brilliant idea.

He really did sprint to DJ dude's perch.

I'm pretty sure the next people announced, were Reagan and Ike.

And here's what happened:

So, this was during dinner. And when dinner was over, the bar opened back up. And Reagan worked herself into a haze she was still feeling the next day during her air travel. Here are just a few of the text messages I received:

"Wow. Did I makeout with him in front of the reception? Neat."

"I am going to go get on a plane as I continue to sweat alcohol - old ladies are looking at me because it is definitely not hot enough for that."

"Last question - where does my boyfriend live?"

"No joke, smelliest large guy was spilling onto my seat - the combo of that w/current state almost hurled."

"What is my boyfriend's last name?"

"He grabbed my ass, seriously?!!!"

" ... at least you didn't mug down with a guy in front of Nana!"

(Regarding that last one - so true - and that's only one reason I am the favorite grandchild ...)

I am so getting my ass kicked for this blog post.

Hehe

"Excuse me, Ma'am, do you know how fast you were going?"

2009-07-05T20:24:00.004-04:00

Like many, my holiday weekend was a whirlwind of fun, and I am only just now beginning to come down off the high of family, friends, fun and fireworks.

In true "me" fashion, however, I was also able to squeeze in a brush with the law (hey, if nothing else, I am efficient - a multi-tasker, if you will) amidst all the fun.

Here's how it went down:

I was driving on the interstate that gets me from southwest Michigan to southeast Michigan.

To say there's a stretch of that drive that is "boring", is, at the very least, an understatement.

Well, I was there. In said boring part. Solo. (Bummer, hubby spent most of the weekend sick, in bed.)

And, if you've ever been to Michigan during these months where we do not normally have snow, then you know that each and every friggin' year our highways spend their non-frost-covered days peppered with orange construction barrels.

So, there I was: boring stretch of highway, surrounded by "targets".

And the posted (temporary) speed limit signs read "60 mph".

Sweet. I get to hang in the boring part a little longer than usual...

Well, as I was nearing the end of the construction (at least this stretch), I was crossing a bridge and noticed that the (temporary) speed limit sign on the right side of the road still said "60mph", BUT the sign on the left side of the road read "70mph".

My lucky day - I'M DRIVING IN THE LEFT LANE!!!!

Um, yeah, not so much.

As I hit 70(ish)mph, I noticed a friendly officer of the law perched on the other side of the bridge (which also happened to be just beyond the end of the construction zone - important detail later).

And, yes, by the time I noticed him, he was already inching his way toward the road, and his lights were on.

I looked around hoping another car had suddenly appeared and was grossly breaking several laws simultaneously, thus explaining Mr. Eager Officer Dude (MEOD).

Again, not so much.

So, I pull over.

And - SHOCKER - MEOD pulls in behind me.

Crap.

MEOD takes his sweet time meandering up to the car as I roll down the window.

Here was our exchange:

MEOD: Afternoon, Ma'am. Any idea how fast you were going?

ME: 70? (less of a guess, more of an "ish")

MEOD: 73

ME: (only in my head: SA-WEET! Barely over the limit)

MEOD: You know the posted speed limit?

ME: (excited because I SO HAVE THIS ONE NAILED) Yes sir, 70!

MEOD: Uh, no ma'am. You were in a construction zone and the posted speed limit is 60mph.

[I'm fairly certain what transpired next was directly related to his use of the words "posted speed limit". Not at all because I can sometimes be kind of a smart ass.]

ME: Well, yeah, about that. See, the sign on the right sign 60mph, BUT the sign on the left said 70mph ... SSSOOOOOO, I picked one!

(yes, I said it)

MEOD: (cocked his head to the side and quizzically uttered) Huh?

ME: Yeah. Seriously. The one on the left says 70. Go look. (remember, I pulled over almost immediately after the construction zone)

MEOD: (puzzled look again)

ME: (growing impatient because I have to pee, but SO NOT WANTING A TICKET)

MEOD: There is no way you just made that up.

ME (thinking): (no shit, Sherlock)
ME (actually said): I swear - it says 70.

[blank stares]

ME: So ..... am I gonna get a ticket?

MEOD: Uh, no.

ME: So ....... can I go?

MEOD: Yes. And slow down in construction zones.

ME: Got it. Wait - it's 70 here now, right?

MEOD: Yes ma'am. Have a safe weekend.

WOO HOO! I peeled outta there!
(ok, actually I responsibly merged back onto the interstate where cars were now whizzing by at, what sure seemed like, speeds greater that 70mph)

Proud of my lightening quick thinking and my INCREDIBLE luck, I made some calls to relay what had just occurred.

And, yes, I used the cell headphone/earpiece thingy so both hands were on the wheel.

Safety first - 10 and 2, baby. 10 and 2.

Cuteness Strikes Again

2009-06-29T18:00:00.004-04:00

On the heels of a pretty perfect day yesterday, a couple of really cool things happened today.

First, when I went to wake the Princess up for school this morning (not usually a fun task, she's not really a morning person), she was actually quite playful. She pretended to be asleep as I rubbed her back and kissed her forehead, and even pulled the sheet over her head. But she was smiling. So I said, "I love it when you wake up in a good mood!"

She rolled over, opened her eyes and said, "I had such a great day yesterday, Mom. I love you."

Heart. Melted.

Fast forward to this afternoon, I'm on the phone with a friend and walk out to get the mail (Princess in tow, by the way). I'm not sure if I was mid conversation, or if he was, but I stopped talking, or stopped listening, upon opening the only actual letter in the pile. It was a letter from Princess.

See, she spent last Friday night with Gramma and Grandpa. And, she had made a note for me, which got mailed (thank you Gramma). It said, "Dear Mommy, I miss you. Love, Princess." (The words are a little out of order, but they're all there)

I was speechless for a second, then I read the letter to my friend (who has a total crush on Princess). His reaction?

"Oh. My. God. Are you kidding me?"

Seriously. Two days in a row?

::sigh::

I love being a mom.

Life Is Good

2009-06-28T19:09:00.005-04:00

I was going to blog today about something that's been bugging me, but I didn't really have words for it until this morning. I was going to blog about something that was said to me at the grocery store the other day. I was going to blog about the fact that these words were uttered to me by a man, a father, with respect to his 8 year old son starting to play hockey.

"I think I started him too late."

I repeat, the kid is eight. Eight years old. And his father thinks it's too late.

How sad is that?

OK - I said I WAS going to blog about that ... but I've changed my mind. (yes, I realize by mentioning it that I have, in fact, blogged about it. But not ad nauseam. And not about the undeniable fact a statement like that makes on the deterioration of our society... and believe me, I could go on and on ....)

INSTEAD, I am going to blog to my Princess about our perfect afternoon together, with the hopes that one day she'll read it and know how very full of love my heart is for her.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Princess:

First, I want to say thank you. Thank you for asking me to spend the afternoon with you. The idea to go to the Nature Center together was yours - and it was a perfect day.

(Stopping to get an iced coffee and chocolate chip scone on the way was my idea, but you didn't seem to mind.)

I love that you love the outdoors. I love that you love our "adventures". I love that you respect nature. I love that you showed me how to have a perfect afternoon - with you.

I do not know the length of time for which you will remember today. I know in my heart that I want never to forget. And I'm writing to you now, for both of us. Someday, years from now, you'll look at the pictures from today, and I want you to know what a wonderful day it was.

And how very much I love you.

Our adventure at the Nature Center started out just the two of us. (You insisted on carrying the "map" we received at the entrance) But, as we navigated our way towards "the pond" (which actually is the river), your Mom took a wrong turn. After quickly realizing we were headed in the wrong direction, we turned and headed back towards the correct trail.

As we emerged back on the main trail, an older couple was making their way towards us. He looked at me and said, "Do you know how to get to the river?"

Before I could answer, you, my Princess, shouted gleefully, "That's where we're going! Follow us. My mom knows the way!"

And so, thanks to you, my social butterfly, we embarked on an adventure with two new friends. We quickly learned that George and "Boots" (that's what he called her - I'm pretty sure her real name is Diane. Molly thinks it's Linda. Doesn't matter, he called her Boots, thus, I will as well) had driven all the way from Toledo simply to check out the Kalamazoo Nature Center. George and Boots love the outdoors. We (or at least I) quickly learned that Boots alone has forgotten more about nature than I will ever know in my lifetime.

And she absolutely loved sharing her knowledge with you. And you, asked wonderful questions. And you pointed out things with those eagle eyes of yours that Boots and George would never have seen on their own.

And so was our day .... walking ... hiking ... you spotting things, and Boots (or George occasionally) explaining what it was and how it got there.

We skipped rocks.

We walked in the creek out to an "island", and named it. Boots suggested naming it "Three Girls Island" (since George did not brave the cold water with us). You decided "Rainbow Island" was better. Boots agreed it was a lovely name, and helped you make the letters "R" and "I" out of rocks as our mark.

I wish I'd gotten pictures of that. But I was too busy watching the delight on your face with every morsel of knowledge Boots was willing to impart. It truly warmed my heart. And not just because you were so excited to learn - but because a complete stranger was so willing to share her passion with you.

George and Boots have a grandson your age. Maybe that's why they took such a liking to you. When your rapid-fire questions had me sure Boots and George would bail for more peaceful pastures, George turned to me and said, "It's okay, mom, we love questions. You have a very bright little girl. Let her ask away."

Wow. How lucky are we to have met such wonderful people today? Trust me, Princess, days like this, people like this, do not happen every day.

Sad, but true.

We found the river. And skipped some rocks.

We took George and Boots up to the lookout, and then navigated back down through the steep, moss-filled steps and utter serenity.

We listened.

We laughed.

We learned.

We parted ways with our new friends at the Interpretive Center. They were going to head back to Toledo, and we had some serious unfinished business, you and me. We had brought snacks. And, they had yet to be eaten.

We grabbed our snacks and headed to the picnic area near the butterfly house. As we sat there on this perfect day, you looked at me and said, "Mom, thanks for today. I'm having the best time. You're the best mom, and I love you."

Right at that moment, I couldn't have loved anything more.

After snacks, we decided to take pictures of each other in a tree. You made me laugh so hard, I almost fell out.

We searched the butterfly house for butterflies, but instead found only some really pretty flowers.

The gardens were gorgeous ... and you wanted to play in the flowers. No one was around, so I let you. SSSSSHHHHHHHHH - it'll be our little secret.

You "stole" my camera at one point and started taking pictures of me (got the camera on and working all by yourself, which was impressive, by the way). When I asked what you were doing, you said, "I want you to see how pretty I think you are, Mom."

And right after that, when you asked what I was doing, there wasn't really a bug in my eye. I was crying. I was crying because I love you. I love the little person you are. I love that you love life, already. And I pray with everything in me, that you never ever lose that.

It's a gift.

You, are a gift.

And I love you.

So thank you for today. And thank you for loving me.

Mom

Pigs above ... snowballs below

2009-06-25T22:02:00.002-04:00

So yesterday I blogged about my mother learning to text.

At the end of the post, I made mention of hell freezing over if she were to ever join facebook. My very hilarious twin cousin (don't ask) described "pigs flying" in reference to the possibility of my mother joining facebook.

Well, it's, apparently, a cold day in hell AND the piggies are a-flyin' .... I GOT FRIEND REQUESTED BY MY MOTHER TODAY.

Now, I know I goaded her into it, sort of, by suggesting that such an occurrence would be utterly ridiculous. I get that. But still. My mother on facebook is akin to asking for navigational tips from the captain of the Titanic.

Don't get me wrong - she is truly one of the most intelligent people on earth. But technology isn't exactly her specialty. And by "technology" I mean, cell phones, texting, wireless networking, and yes, social networking.

So now my mom is on facebook.

Her quote of the night: "Tomorrow, we tweet."

STOP THE INSANITY!!!!!!

Dipping her foot in the cool pool ...

2009-06-24T23:33:00.003-04:00

So I'm outside watering flowers today (SCORCHING HEAT & HUMIDITY here, btw), and my phone buzzes with a text message.

It's from my mom. Huh? What the ...? My mom doesn't text - hell, she barely uses her cell phone correctly - AS A PHONE!

The message says: "i'm in a class learning to text"

Sweet Jesus. Are you kidding me? The woman who can't look at a picture without reaching for her glasses ... can't answer her phone without said glasses .... and reading anything without them - forget about it. That woman is learning to text?

God help us all.

And, there are classes for texting? Really? REALLY?!!! (I wonder how much one pays for a class like that)

If I get a friend request from my mother on facebook, I'll know there's a GIANT snowball fight raging in hell.

Seriously.

Oh ... right .... I have a blog ....

2009-06-22T22:44:00.004-04:00

I know, I know. Been a while since my last post. Got it.

Truth be told - I haven't posted because I haven't been "inspired" (which actually makes this blog sound FAR more important than is deserved).

It's not like we haven't been busy or that things haven't happened...

Hell, Princess has probably said and done enough in the last 6 weeks to fill 900 blogs ... I know I've watched "101 Dalmations" at least 200 times (thanks to Little Man). My brother got married. My nephew got baptized. My very favorite teacher of all time retired (and I went to his retirement party).

The Red Wings lost the Stanley Cup to those waddling bird-type creatures.

Gas prices went up. And down. And back up a little again.

The Kalamazoo Air Zoo announced they're offering FREE ADMISSION this summer.

I had some wine (in some instances, A LOT of wine). And laughs with friends.

I went back "on air" briefly - only to be reminded VERY QUICKLY why I do not miss 4am ... or 5am on a regular basis. (Although, I had a blast with my girl, D).

I've gotten to hang out with family and catch up with those I don't see often enough.

I found out Princess will be in afternoon kindergarten and she is still hell bent on riding the bus. ::sigh:: (Cliche alert: they grow up entirely too fast)

Oh - and Little Man has an aversion to eating. Every meal is an adventure. Oh the games we play ....

So, see? I've been busy. I just haven't blogged. And stuff has happened. Life has happened. And I've been living it.

But, I actually miss blogging ... and so it starts anew ....

Do good. Be well.

2009-05-08T08:49:00.005-04:00

“I” before “e” except after “c" - or when sounding like “A” as in neighbor and “weigh”.

I grew up with an English teacher and an attorney (and not just any kind of attorney, a litigator), which means that I now have some serious pet peeves when it comes to linguistics abuse (is that even a real thing? Pretty sure I just made that up).

For instance, it seems that somewhere along the line, it became socially acceptable to use “I” and “me” interchangeably, and more often than not, incorrectly.

Jake and me went to the store.
Um, no, no you didn’t. “Me” did not go to the store. “I” did.

Here is a picture of Miss Smarty Pants and I …
Again, no. The picture is of me, not I. (Although, I am in the picture about which you speak. Confusing, I know. Still with me?)

Regardless is a word. Irregardless is not. It is a double negative, and generally means the exact opposite of whatever the person using it intends.

If you mean supposedly, say it – not supposably.

My very favorite teacher of all time told us in freshman English not to use “a lot” because we would most likely use it (incorrectly) as “alot”. I wish more people had had the good fortune to take Mr. Schusterbauer’s class (not just for this, he’s an amazing man, but I digress …). And I’d like to publicly thank him for adding to the list of things that, when misused by others, bug the crap out of me. Thanks. A lot. :)

*RHETORICAL QUESTION ALERT*
It's not really that hard to familiarize oneself with the distinctions between "your" and "you're", is it? Same goes for "their", "there", and "they're".

A million times a day this question is posed, “How are you?”, and I would venture a guess that at least 997,896 of those times, the response is: “Good”. Now, while I would argue that this is simply a conditioned response at this point, is it too much to ask that we answer incorrectly, correctly?

How sad that, collectively, we are not “well”?

(And, in case you are wondering, people, in general, DO NOT appreciate being corrected on such abuses. I know this after YEARS of informal research. And said offenders have come up with some pretty creative ways to tell me to go f&#k myself over the years. But here’s the way I see it: if I "get" to listen to the abuses, then you "get" to put up with me occasionally offering an “alternative”.

I'm like PBS - it's a public service, really.)

Who's The Boss?

2009-05-03T10:55:00.002-04:00

Heard at our house today:

PRINCESS: Mommy, someday, when I grow up to be as big as you, will I be the boss too?

ME: (shot coffee outta my mouth like one of those disturbing clown things at a water park)

Oh, and, NO! I'll always be the boss.

Hey, it's my movie!

Here's what she did ...

2009-04-30T13:57:00.003-04:00

So, my last post detailed the emotional wave that swept over me as I took Princess to get registered for kindergarten.

Well, let this post serve as the antithesis to that day ...

I decided to take Princess back the next day (and NOT at lunch as the nice secretary requested, thus increasing our odds of actually getting the school tour) since I had to return some completed paperwork and drop of her birth certificate.

And this time, I could have left her. At the school. In the kindergarten room. All. Day. Long.

See, the Princess has been "a handful" lately. Her willfulness is, maddening. I know when she's older I'll be thankful she is strong-willed and independent - but for now, it's truly just a pain in my ass.

There I said it. (I've already given up on "2009 Mom of the Year", so I'm letting my freak flag fly here, people!)

My issues with her lately are: attitude and disrespect. The attitude I can temper and steer into a healthier outlet, but the disrespect? Unacceptable. At any age.

So, she's been getting sent to her room a lot lately. And, she doesn't really seem to care.

Now, I have also blogged about her penchant for getting out of bed excessively at night.

Well, the other night was a "Perfect Storm" of sorts ... the culmination of attitude, disrespect, and intolerable bed-evacuation. And Mommy had had enough.

Princess had been warned, "Do not get out of bed again or every toy in your room will be put in a garbage bag and I decide when OR IF you will get any of them back."

Serious stuff, right?

Um, no. Apparently not.

(SIDE NOTE: this warning had been issued a couple of times during the week prior. At first, it worked seamlessly. At first. Then, Princess began testing the waters. For instance, she picked a bug bite, it started to bleed, she needed a band aid - hence bed evacuation. There were a few others like that, so it's no surprise, really, that she kept going to see if I would follow through.)

So, on this fateful night, she got out of bed for something SO irrelevant, I can't even recall precisely the exact reason. And maybe it's because she only got half a sentence out (and that sentence was NOT "Mommy, I have to go potty"), before I calmly said, "What did I tell you was going to happen if you got out of bed again?"

HER (matter-of-factly): "Well, it hasn't happened yet."

ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME?

ME: "Get back in bed, I'm getting the garbage bags."

She turned and walked calmly back to her room while I calmly, on the outside (but raging-river-of-death-pissed on the inside), retrieved garbage bags and walked back to her bedroom.

As I began to pile toys into the bags, fully expecting Princess to begin throwing an absolute shit fit, she instead began suggesting ways to better utilize the space in the bags for the toys to fit.

While impressed at her obvious spacial relation prowess (a gift from her father, for sure), my masterful anger-suppression-for-the-sake-of-not-being-defeated-by-a-four-year-old was being tested. Fiercely.

A whole day went by before she even mentioned the toys.

She truly did not seem to care when, or if, she got them back. Or, at least she wasn't going to give me the satisfaction of knowing she cared.

So, I decided that each time she is disrespectful, Little Man becomes the beneficiary of one of Princess' repo'd toys.

I tried it. She HATED that plan. I felt better. (I'm not proud)

Score 1 for Mom.

Kindergarten already? REALLY?

2009-04-27T21:53:00.004-04:00

My Monday started off as most do, dropping Princess off at preschool, cappuccino and muffin on my way to a mid morning meeting, and picking Princess up by noon.

But, today, I had to go and officially sign Princess up for kindergarten. (SIDE NOTE: I’m eligible for Mom of the Year Award – again – this time, for missing the screening at her school and having to take her to a make-up location last week.)

And she wanted to go with me to see “her” kindergarten room. Sounded like a good idea to me, so off we went.

Nothing could have prepared me for the wave of emotion I was about to experience ...

As I stood in the office of the elementary school waiting patiently for the very busy, multi-tasking secretary to get to me, Princess sat “patiently” behind me, asking only 15 times when she was going to get to see “her” room….

As I was filling out the little pink enrollment card, and put an “X” in the kindergarten box, I got a little choked up, and thought to myself, holy shit, my little girl is going to kindergarten in 4 months.

How did this happen? It seems like just last week I was asking for the good drugs to take away the labor pains …

So, back to the office at the elementary school … With the paperwork complete, the school secretary tells us that we cannot take a tour of the kindergarten rooms because it’s lunch, and she has no backup in the office.

You should have seen Princess’ face …. she was devastated. As we turn to leave, she’s fighting back tears while practically begging just to go LOOK at the room, promising to be quiet and respectful (her words, not mine), while I try desperately to explain to her that we can come back another time...

Then I realize, there’s a phone call I can make that could make it “all better”. At least for now. Maybe.

I dial. He answers. He’s in the building. Says he’ll be right out.

A moment later, a thirty something, very lovable version of the Campbell’s Soup boy makes his way towards us. Princess sees him almost immediately, jumps up and begins to SPRINT down the hallway yelling, “Uncle ZERB!!!” She leaps into his arms and practically disappears in the giant bear hug. Her little legs struggle to cling tightly to him.

See, not only are Zerb and his wife the guardians of our children should anything happen to hubby and me, he’s a music teacher at Princess’ soon-to-be elementary school. And, THANK GOD he happened to be in the building today.

Oh, and, here’s why I have no doubt Princess will love music:

It’s also the reason I’m hoping nothing serious happens to hubby and me anytime soon.

WHAT are they playing?

2009-04-20T13:54:00.004-04:00

Not long ago, I told the story of a friend of mine who has no idea she's one of the strongest women around. She's a single mom of 2 who does a terrific job raising and loving her kids, but forgets about herself. A lot.

So, on Saturday, we had the chance to have coffee - kidless!! My Mom was in town, and graciously agreed to watch all 4 kids while we had some girl time. So, that meant that "Mimi" (that's what the kids call my Mom) would have my two (Princess, who is almost 5, and Little Man, 2) and her two - we'll call them "Dude" (8 year old boy) and "Bean" (girl, same age as Princess).

Little Man would be napping, the girls wanted to bake muffins with Mimi, and Dude could watch movies or play out back.

Sounds harmless enough, right?

Not long after D (the friend) and I sat down on the patio of one of the coolest cafes in Kalamazoo (The Coffee Bar) to enjoy the sunshine and 70 degrees, my phone rang. It said "Home" was calling. It was Dude, wanting to know how to hook up Guitar Hero.

Um, yeah. No clue.

So, with D mortified and coming unglued asking to "speak" to Dude herself (which I do not allow), I tell him I'll call Hubby to see if it's a quickly explained process or not. Hubby, about to tee off for the afternoon, explains that it is not in fact an easy over-the-phone kind of process.

He never met Dude...

Upon calling back home, Mimi answers and informs me that Dude has figured it out and is downstairs happily strumming away while she and the girls are baking muffins. Little Man is sleeping.

D is now crumbling at the thought of what Dude has done to Hubby's set up, despite my assurances that Hubby will be fine. Truth be told, I thought she should have been quite impressed with his electronic abilities - but she was stuck on the whole "respecting other people's things" part.

Whatever.

She's such a stickler. :)

So, D and I finish our discussion, and our drinks, and head home.

I call Mimi to tell her we are on our way, she says everything is great and Little Man just woke up.

Here's the scene upon entering the house:

Little Man yelps with delight and yells, "MOMMA" while running, arms outstretched, to greet me (I love that part). Mimi and Dude are sitting in the living room ... and Dude is "wearing" a towel.

Princess and Bean are busy, playing a game they've devised, but we'll get back to that .....

Before D asks why Dude is in a towel, Mimi starts in with the explanation. Turns out, Dude was playing in the backyard, and long story short, ended up with dog sh!t on his shoes and shorts.

Mimi threw the shorts in the washer, which meant Dude had 2 choices: skivvies or a towel. He chose Option B.

Now, the girls had been playing a game, but D and I were so focused on the Dude story that neither of us really paid attention to the game - at first...

Now, when thinking about all the games little girls like to play, things like dress up, barbies, and tea parties come to mind, yes?

Well, Princess and Bean, we discover, have made up a game all on their own.

Are you ready for this?

Our two lovely ladies are playing a game called, JAIL BREAK. Yes, as in, the slammer. They take turns locking each other up behind one of the baby gates that encloses our living room, and then after some amount of time, the incarcerated one calls out for help, and the other responds with, "I'll help you break out!"

Then they switch.

Upon realizing the game they've made up, D and I begin to question where, how, and more importantly, WHY they are playing a game about being locked behind bars.

Neither girl offers an explanation that satisfies either mother. However, I must confess, neither mother had what would likely be considered the "appropriate" response.

D and I? We actually laughed hysterically.

Maybe THAT explains, at least in part, why our little angels conjured up such a game in the first place?

My memories of a good man ...

2009-04-14T08:05:00.003-04:00

For today, I digress from Mommyhood, again.

A couple of weeks ago, I posted here about memories from my childhood. Memories of Tiger Stadium. And memories made with my grandfather.

So yesterday, when I saw the news that former Tiger pitcher Mark “The Bird” Fidrych had been found dead at his home, I got sad. See, for me, memories of The Bird take me back to those days at Tiger Stadium with my grandfather (Dop). When Fidrych was pitching his fairy tale rookie season, Dop was so excited about the young star and his talent, while I looked forward to the “antics”. See, aside from his incredible talent, he was a true character.

The AP describes him like this:
He acquired the nickname "the Bird" because of his resemblance to the Big Bird character on the Sesame Street television show. During games, he would bend down and groom the mound with his hands, talk to the baseball and slap five with teammates in the middle of the diamond.

Now I ask you, what kid wouldn’t fall in love with a guy like that?

So, you can imagine my delight when, 22 years after having first witnessed the legend of “The Bird” on the mound, I had the privilege of meeting the man in person.

And, while “people” always say this of the dead, he really was a nice man. At least for the 2 days I got to spend with him.

I was in my third season with a minor league baseball team in Kalamazoo. It was 1998, and the new team owners decided to step up some of the promotions, and scheduled appearances by Mark “The Bird” Fidrych and Cleveland Indian great Bob Feller, among others, that year.

If you are unfamiliar, while working for a minor league baseball team – especially one in an independent league – while your “title” may officially be something like “Sales Manager” or “Box Office Manager” (or whatever), it is not at all uncommon for employees to wear many hats. Like say, one that reads “Official Peanut Sweeper from the Entrance Area Person” or “Toilet Paper Replacer in the Restrooms Person”, or my personal favorite, the position for which there is no name but involves this: whipping a crowd of tens into a side-splitting frenzy only to have a 3 year old puke on your feet just before you’re about to run an on-field promotion between innings. Yeah, that position rocked.

Anyway, back in the summer of 1998, I had one of the coolest responsibilities, and it was to chauffeur Mark Fidrych around while he was in Kalamazoo.

In my Mercury Tracer.

All 6 feet, 3 inches of him.

After unfolding himself from my car the first time, he joked and asked if there were eight clowns stuffed in there that would emerge from the vehicle too …

He then put his gangly arm around my shoulders and said, “Aw, I’m just kidding, Darlin’. You couldn’t get eight clowns in there – maybe six!”

And so the ice was broken. The Bird and his chauffeur bantered for the rest of his visit. He had great stories. He was self deprecating and seemingly not at all bitter about the length of his injury-shortened career.

He lived on a farm outside of Boston, and couldn’t stop talking about it and his family. He was thankful for the game of baseball and the things it had afforded him in life, but he had moved on.

I get that sports is about hanging on to stats and numbers and super human feats. Who can do it better or faster? I get it, I really do. As a society, we crave it – mostly because as a profession, sports journalism shoves it down our throats.

But with the death of one of the more colorful personalities in America’s pastime, there are lessons to be learned.

He found what made him truly happy in life. He had moved on.

How very cool.

And inspiring.

Yes, he was a great baseball talent. But the man I met 11 years ago … he was a great man.

Rest in peace.

I'm a smart girl who says dumb things ...

2009-04-08T14:29:00.005-04:00

As of about five years ago, in my family the phrase "You're pretty" went from being a compliment to, well, not so much of one.

Read on, you'll see why ....

It was October 2004, the weekend that Princess was baptized. Lots of family in town.

At one point, all but one of my siblings were sitting around our kitchen table. A sister-in-law and a brother's girlfriend were seated in the group too.

The conversation was interesting, to say the least. It centered around my youngest sister, the sister-in-law and the girlfriend. My brothers were participating, but my married brother was smart enough to witness, but not interject into, the conversation ... my youngest brother, however, was leading the charge .....

So, the conversation started out something like this:

"Would you rather be a smart girl that says dumb things, or a dumb girl that says smart things?"

The funniest part is that there was even a conversation on this topic. Anyone within ear shot could tell that my brother was simply prodding the three girls (all of whom, by the way ARE smart girls ...), as a result of some(not-so-smart)thing one of them had said.

And, God love them, they actually broke down this otherwise simple question and made it a whole "thing". Actually debating the merits of each option.

And they were serious.

And my brothers could hardly keep a straight face.

See, all three are definitely smart girls with the capacity to say, well, you get the point .....

And then the funniest thing of all happened ......

My other sister, who had been holding the infant Princess, heard the conversation, walked excitedly up to the table and said, "Hey, which one am I?"

(Blank stares)

My youngest brother, barely lifting his head from his hands, just looked up and said slowly, "You're ... pretty" (the inference, of course, being she is neither smart nor says smart things).

The fact that she did not knee him in the who-ha right then and there is commendable. (Mostly because, of all of us kids, she is arguably the most kind-hearted, sincere, strong, and sensible one in the bunch. And, she is, in fact, smart. Oh yeah, and she really is gorgeous.)

So anyway, the table erupted. And she was offended. You know the way a little sister gets offended at a big brother who teases her.

So, now, in our family if you ask a question and the response is "You're pretty" - it's not so much a good thing ......

OK, so cut to today at lunch. Little Man has a plate full of uneaten turkey dog, but is asking for some of the pudding that Daddy is eating.

Hubby walks up and says:
"If you don't eat yer meat, you can't have any pudding.
How can you have any pudding if you don't eat yer meat?"

I chuckle and say:
"Honey I don't think he knows who Bill Cosby is."

Hubby turns slowly and gives me that look. The look one gives when waiting for someone to realize the verbal error they've just committed - so they can fix it.

I look at him and say, "WHAT?"

He throws his hands up and says, "You worked at a Classic Rock radio station - how can you not know that reference?!!"

I, again say, "You weren't referring to the pudding pop guy?"

Hubby: "Um, no. It's a Pink Floyd reference."

(And, it's not like it's some random quote from an obscure Floyd album. Oh no, it's from The Wall - Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2, to be exact.)

Whoops.

Then hubby says, "This probably isn't going to make your blog, huh? Only stuff that makes fun of the rest of us......"

Blah. Blah. Blah.

And, yeah, I know, I'm "pretty". Got it.

Extreme Makeover: Bathroom Edition

2009-04-04T15:51:00.003-04:00

**NOTE: This post is being written WITHOUT the express written consent of my husband - or Major League Baseball. I could be in a world of hurt upon hitting "Publish Post" **

Saturday, April 4, 2009 mid to late afternoon .......

This morning, as I was flying around the house trying to get the kids packed (which also meant doing some last minute laundry) for their trip to Oma & Papa's house for the night, hubby announces/asks: "How would you feel about redoing the kids bathroom today?"

ME (surrounded by folded and yet-to-be-folded clothes): "Huh?"

HIM: "Yeah. I'm thinking about ripping up the linoleum, replacing the toilet, and putting down the vinyl tile we have."

ME: (blank stare)

HIM: (still awaiting a VERBAL response)

ME: "Um, today? Really? Isn't tipoff at 6 tonight?" (At the time of this conversation, it was roughly 8:30am, with the MSU game starting 8.5 hours later)

HIM (seemingly a little irked at the suggestion that it could not all get finished by tipoff): "Yeah, it is. But all I've gotta do is ............"

Shit.

I went all glassy and hazy at the thought of contemplating a home makeover of any kind, while still in "packing kids, driving to Jackson and back, and running errands" mode.

Now, it is only fair to note here that I married well - VERY WELL - especially in the fixing/building/maintaining stuff around the house department. Hubby finished our basement and it's the best part of our house. It truly is, rockstar.

But, handy as he is, and as fantastic a job as he does on EVERY project he tackles around the house, it's the "journey" that can get, what's the word, "colorful"?!

And mostly, it's because house projects, especially the home improvement variety, NEVER go as planned and ALWAYS take longer than expected. Nature of the beast, right? And somehow, men, especially handy men, who are otherwise extremely intelligent beings, are shocked when this happens with EACH AND EVERY PROJECT. It's like some time and space continuum thing that poses a tsunami-sized blockage between their brain and past experience.

Those that have witnessed this know it's one of the great wonders of the world.

OK, so back to this morning, and the husband who wants to completely overhaul a bathroom in 8 hours.

(I remind him that the Secretary of State's office needs 27 employees, and beautiful new facilities to renew tags and licenses for 12 people in the same amount of time he wants to COMPLETELY REDO A BATHROOM, but, to no avail.)

At 9:30am, I depart the homestead, kids and luggage in tow, with visions of what is about to happen in the bathroom.

At some point, around lunch(ish)time, I get a phone call. Here's how it went:

ME: "Hey - how's it going?"

HIM: "Well, without getting into too much detail, I put a hole in the wall. And now I'm on my way to Home Depot."

(At this point, I have to admit that, without "details", I was sure he'd put the toilet through the wall. Thankfully, I discovered later, I was wrong.)

Sensing this was not the time to ask questions, I simply offered to pick up some lunch and bring it home.

Preparing myself for what was behind Door #1, I entered the house.....

BATHROOM:
Linoleum gone? CHECK
Toilet gone? CHECK
Hole in wall? CHECK

Pink stuff on wall covering hole .......... ok, wait, WTF?
Apparently, the "stuff" one uses to repair holes in walls goes on pink and turns white when it's dry. Very cool. (Here's my question though, why can't the reverse be done with nail polish?)

Hubby is alarmingly calm about the hole in the wall. So, I make a joke about the hole, and am gently reminded it's still too early for jokes. So, instead, I begin to blog ......

And while I've been chuckling to myself - he's been slaving away on the "remodel". And at 5:15pm, I heard the toilet flush. The NEW toilet.

At 5:35pm hubby jumped in the shower - tile installed, toilet installed (AND flushing properly), and pink hole repair stuff turning white.

Holy shit, he did it in less than 8 hours.

I stand corrected.

Maybe he should consult at the Secretary of State's Office ......

A Birthday Wish

2009-04-04T15:08:00.004-04:00

Today, I received the following email from my sister-in-law:

So your darling son is turning 2! (in case it somehow slipped your mind :)
We are wondering what his greatest joys are. Balls, trucks, coloring, golf, etc.
Please advise as the girls would LOVE to get him something fun.
xoxo

Sweet, yes?

Here was my reply:

Funny thing happened today when I read Little Man your email....

Being all of (almost) 2, and possessing the verbal skills of, well, an almost 2 year old boy, I was shocked at his response.

Seems the little guy is more generous and giving than even his own mother realized. Now, please keep in mind that he is still a little hard to understand, and, I may have mixed the message up some, but here was the gist:

Apparently, he thinks that he and his sister both have enough in the way of toys and things. And while he GENUINELY appreciates the gesture, he feels that (and this part brings tears to my eyes) manicures/pedicures and massages for Mom are far more advantageous. For the whole family. If he's heard it once, he's heard it a hundred times, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't NOBODY happy"!

It's nice to know he's been listening.

He'd also like you to know the salon down the street is called M Spa, and they do gift certificates.

Think he'll be pissed?

April Fool's ...

2009-04-01T20:46:00.002-04:00

Some people LOVE practical jokes.

As a matter of fact, I used to love - LOVE - the old 80's show, "TV's Bloopers & Practical Jokes" with Dick Clark and Ed McMahon (version 1.0 of Punk'd).

Problem for me is, I've never been adept at pulling off a really good practical joke of my own. That requires a skill set that is apparently, beyond me. So, instead, I marvel at those with such God given abilities.

Not only am I unable to pull off practical jokes of any kind, I am a COMPLETE SUCKER and generally fall victim to such pranks quite easily.

Ya know the old grade school joke, "Hey, did you know that the word GULLIBLE is found in the dictionary under Q"? Yeah - I looked. I'm not proud...

** It is important to note here: I do not like things at which I am unable to excel. Hence, I HATE April Fool's Day. ***

OK - so cut to about seven years ago ... I was a couple of years in to my nearly 7 year stint in morning radio .... my partners had been doing the show together for 12+ years, and EVERY YEAR when April Fool's Day rolled around, the inevitable question from the "powers that be" arose, "WHAT ON AIR PRANK/STUNT ARE YOU GOING TO DO THIS YEAR?"

Ugh.

My hatred for this "holiday" intensified.

So, there we sat. Contemplating the same tired, old radio stunts that had been done hundreds of times over. Until .......

Now, I'm not sure who came up with this idea (although my old partner, McKelly, as usual says he did), but we decided that since April Fool's Day fell on a Monday, and the preceding Friday was slated to be our very first "Rocker Morning Show Hometown Tour" (in Sturgis, no less, thereby ensuring mayhem and hi jinx), a resurrection of the "Your Favorite Morning Show Got Fired" stunt, could work.

I will not bore you with the setup, but let's just say, the party in Sturgis that Friday evening was, in a word, EPIC.

So Monday rolls around, and instead of the 3 of us battening down the hatches for another wacky week of radio games, our listeners are "treated" instead, to the voice of our GM (Kate) apologizing for our "antics" from Friday, and assuring the loyal station listeners that the problem (aka, the 3 of us), had been handled, and that the morning show would be moving in a new direction.

Now, aside from the listeners who called in a rage - A RAGE (God Bless Them) - there were listeners who showed up at the station and "relinquished" (aka chucked with force at our receptionist, Stacey) their Loyal Listener Club Cards, and phone calls ALL DAY LONG (and for weeks after, too) ....... but the funniest thing that happened that day, happened at my house .......

So, a good friend of ours (hubby and me), we'll call him "Casey", happened to be listening that fateful April Fool's morning. And Casey is like a brother to me. And, God love him, Casey forgot what day it was.

So he hears that we've been fired. He feels awful.

Cut to my house about 30 minutes later. Hubby is just getting out of the shower and hears a knock on the door (unusual since it's like 7:30 in the morning). Hubby quickly wraps a towel around himself and heads to see who's knocking.

He sees Casey, and opens the door. Casey is standing there with flowers and says:

"Oh my God. I am SO SORRY to hear about Steph."

Hubby (kind of in a panic now): "What???!!!!! What happened to Steph?"

Casey: "Dude, I heard they got fired. Is she okay?"

Hubby shut door in Casey's face while mumbling something like: "Hey dumbass, check the calendar!"

So, Casey fell hook, line and sinker.

And he brought me flowers.

And he's probably the only person I know that has fallen victim to any "prank" with my name attached to it ...... God love him!

April Fool's.

Paging Carrie Bradshaw: Part 2

2009-03-30T20:12:00.006-04:00

In case you missed Part 1 of this Princess storyline, click here.

So last time, it was "heels". This time, it's an entire getup.

Princess asked if she could get herself dressed.

Caught in a weak moment, I said "Sure", without any discussion or suggestion.

BIG mistake.

She was SO proud of her "creation".

And check out the hands - she did that all on her own too!

For the FULL effect, here's a closeup of the shoes and socks:

And, yes, that is in fact SANTA atop the knee socks.

Admit it, you're jealous!

Here's what I know .....

2009-03-28T07:07:00.002-04:00

Many people say that when they're gone, they want to be remembered as someone who made a difference.

And, I am no different.

But for a long time, I've struggled with what that meant, really.

As a young adult, "making a difference" had global ramifications (at least, my interpretation). Age (and, hopefully wisdom) has afforded me the very satisfying perspective that, in small ways, we can make a difference every day.

Attainable goals, I always say. Baby steps. Very liberating.

I am in the midst of tackling a new project with some dear friends. Details will be coming forth soon, but in the meantime, this new endeavor has me reflecting on lots of things.

I want this new project to matter. To make a difference.

I know in my heart it can. And, knowledge is half the battle, right?

So, when my time here is up, I want to know these things for sure:
That I lived each day thankful for what I had.
That my kids knew for sure my love for them was unconditional and limitless.
That I showed compassion, grace, and kindness.
That I was a good friend and wife.

That I LIVED fully.
That I LAUGHED often.
And that I LOVED with my whole heart.

This one time, at the park ....

2009-03-25T18:48:00.005-04:00

This time of year brings excitement. Spring is in the air. The dreary, gray, dog days of winter are coming to an end - the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel visible to those daring (or desperate) enough to look ......

And, for those of us with kids? Hell, the thermometer reaches 50 and we're ready to spend the day outdoors, complete with picnics, long walks and visits to the park.

Yes, spring is in the air.

And the sun peeked out this afternoon, so I seized the opportunity to take the kiddos to the park once Little Man was up from his nap.

On days like today, I think I get even more excited than the kids to be outside. Wintertime here in West Michigan takes the human spirit captive for a good 4 months, offering little respite from its stranglehold, until ... SPRING.

So you see, I get excited.

I loaded up the kids and we headed to one of our favorite local destinations. The Celery Flats. A wonderful little gem "hidden" in our town.

The kids love going too. So it's a win-win (such a rarity as you moms know).

Adding to the excitement, we didn't take jackets - only sweatshirts.

All I kept thinking was, "This is a great day".

And, I was almost right.

HOWEVER, would I really be blogging about a normal, uneventful, run-of-the-mill trip to the park?

Um, no.

So, with the kids unloaded from the van, we head to the park. Usually we take a walk on the path first, but Mommy was feeling especially generous today and promised park first, then a walk on the path, then - PARK AGAIN!

Rockstar Mommy, yes?

Again, um, no. Not so much.

As Little Man ran the circuit of ladder, slide, log-thingy balancing, ladder, slide, etc., Princess had her own slightly terrifying (only to Mommy) circuit going.

I stood and watched their joy and delight.

Spring was in the air.

This went on for about 10 minutes, at which point, JUST as Little Man got to the bottom of the spiral slide, he stopped and uttered, "OH NO!"

Now, this phrase, along with, "WOW" and "NO WAY!", is uttered no less than than 100 times in a day by the Little Man. So, while not alarmed at his "outcry", I did (thankfully) peer over the edge of the slide to see what had him stalled.

It was, "water". A small puddle, actually.

It is important to note here, that we were not alone at the park. There was a very nice man with his very young, JUST learning to walk, son (I'll call him "Weeble Wobble"). And this man was taking turns with my kids, and assisting his little one down the slide too.

THANKFULLY, at this particular juncture, he was taking a break.

As my Little Man sat motionless on the bottom of the slide, I said aloud, "Huh. Princess, why didn't you tell me there was water on the slide? Are you guys wet?"

As I looked at her, she had one of those, "OH GOD I'M SO SORRY" looks on her face.

All at once, and yet, almost in slow motion, I realized that puddle was likely not water at all AND Little Man was still sitting entirely too close to it.

At this point, Princess begins apologizing profusely WHILE BEGINNING TO CLIMB THE SLIDE AGAIN! Seriously? I mean, SERIOUSLY?

With one arm, I grab Princess off the ladder and swing around to grab Little Man, only to find him, in what can best be described as, "flicking" the liquid in the general direction of the approaching (and very intrigued) Weeble Wobble.

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

No doubt prompted by the sheer terror on my face, the father grabs Weeble Wobble and redirects him away from the slide (and the airborne liquid).

I scoop up Little Man, and instruct Princess to give me her sweatshirt (I'd have used my own, except she had a shirt on under hers. I did not. I figured we'd made enough of a scene at this point.)

After cleaning up the puddle on the slide, we head back to the car.

Princess is pissed (no pun intended) that I'm making her leave. And, its all I can do to NOT laugh hysterically at her because as she's "tantruming" (hey if facebook can be used as a verb, so can tantrum), she's walking like she's got a beach ball between her legs, looking a lot like Frankenstein.

So, I get her stripped down, get them both in the car, buckle myself in, and Princess is staring at me. So, I say, "Yes?" (fully expecting an apology for any ONE of the offenses she'd just committed).

To which she replies, "Mom. You know better then to let me leave the house without going potty first. It's the responsible thing to do."

And, while she is correct, it is clear,

I. Can't. Win.

EVER.

Win, Lose or Draw?

2009-03-16T00:24:00.003-04:00

For whatever reason, the Princess has this VERY ANNOYING habit of "fighting" bedtime lately.

Tonight, she must have gotten out of bed 10 times.

The kicker is, every night - I mean EVERY NIGHT - we have the same discussion of the "getting out of bed rules" - basically, she can't unless it's to go to the bathroom.

Tonight (and altogether too many nights recently), she decided to "test" that theory.

Which, truth be told, makes my freaking blood boil. BOIL.

So, after what seemed like the 789th time she got out of bed (ALL of which had NOTHING to do with a bathroom emergency of any kind, by the way), I announced that, if she did it again, I was throwing a toy away. And, I even added, "AND I GET TO PICK WHICH TOY!"

I was confident this declaration would do the trick.

I was wrong.

Again.

So, when yet another trip to the living room occurred, Mommy went a little ballistic. I marched her back into her room, resisted the urge to chuck her back onto her bed (and instead, let her crawl back on there herself), and started searching for a toy to throw away.

See, I was so convinced that this tactic would work by just its mere mention, I had not given ACTUAL thought to the toy that would get tossed.

And this was a decision not to be taken lightly.

As you moms know, throw a truly beloved toy away, and its "community torture", punishment for all. And no Mom wants that. No, her actions warranted solo torture. Agony only she would feel.

And that meant careful selection for said chucking.

There was panic in her eyes, as she sat quietly and watched as I surveyed the landscape.

The Leapster had already been quarantined (from bedtime 2 nights ago) ... the Disney Princess Talking Cash Register (and all its parts) was spread over 3 bins ... I was scrambling ...

And then, I saw it.

A HA! I thought. This small, metal Dora purse thing will surely do the trick. She LOVES packing stuff in it to hide "loot" from her brother.

So I grabbed it, and whipped around to face her, showing the chosen toy facing eternal damnation.

I was proud, so proud of my selection.

And, just as quickly as I'd whipped around with this purse thing held kind of over my head, she looked at it, and then, our eyes met.

She stared at me for a second, expressionless, and proceeded to announce, quite matter of factly, without any hint of attitude whatsoever, "Mom, I don't even like that toy. Go ahead, chuck it."

Seriously, she couldn't have given a shit.

I stood there, motionless. Conquered. Defeated. And completely unable to respond. I had been rendered speechless by a four year old. (Again)

And by the way, she got out of bed 2 more times - and used the bathroom each time.

Go figure.

I'll Remember Enough for Both of Us ...

2009-03-10T19:59:00.003-04:00

My posts here are usually about living my life as a Mom of 2 ..... but today, I'm going back to my youth. To my first true love. And to my grandfather, "Dop".

For those that know me, it's no secret that I love sports. Hockey is my favorite. I love watching it. I love talking about it.

But hockey is not my first love. That distinction will always belong to baseball.

As a little girl, I spent a lot of time with my Nana & Dop. They have always been like parents to me. And my Dop, he LOVED baseball. And, lucky for me, he LOVED taking me to the ballpark.

Summer meant Tiger Stadium - I could navigate my way to Michigan And Trumbull from the age of 6 or 7 - and Tiger Stadium meant freedom.

**I say "he LOVED", past tense, because while physically he is still with us, his memory is not. **

Dop had "connections", so we always had terrific seats - generally very near the dugout, unless the Yankees were in town, then we were in the box next to the boys in pinstripes (more on that another time ...)

And the parking - Dop knew one of "Detroit's finest", and when he was working a game, we parked, quite literally, on the corner of Michigan and Trumbull. Rockstar parking, indeed.

It was at Tiger Stadium that Dop taught me how to score a game. I knew the starting lineup and pitching rotation as a second grader. I knew the ushers and vendors around the dugouts. And I knew on a warm summers night, there was no place I'd rather be.

I watched Trammell and Whitaker turn 2 more times than I can remember, I witnessed one of the craziest-ass batting stances ever (a "phenomenon" for which Dop had no real explanation, by the way), by a guy with one of the funniest names in all of sports (John Wockenfuss), and I remember watching Sparky Anderson deliver his first (of many) lineup cards donning the Old English D, and being excited.

I know. I was not your "typical" girl.

As a child, every time I entered the park and saw the manicured field, I took a deep breath and fell in love all over again. I wanted to know everything. Everything about the game, the players, the history. I wanted it all. And Dop was always willing to share.

So when spring rolls around - despite the fact that I've "strayed" a bit from my first love - I get nostalgic. Over the years, the excitement and anticipation of the season has faded some, but the memories of days (and seasons) gone by, remain.

And they make me think of my Dopper. And the twinkle in his eye when he'd pick me up and say, "Wanna go to a game, Little Girl?"

So, while his memories are gone ... this spring ... I'll remember enough for both of us.

Pay It Forward ... (or something like that)

2009-03-03T20:10:00.004-05:00

Us moms gotta stick together, ya know?

Help bring out the Rockstarness in each other at every turn. Don't ya think?

I've said it before, single moms are a special breed. Truly angels among us. Being a mom is challenging enough. But, being a single, working mom?

Heroic.

Selfless.

And completely thankless.

Last week, I got a call from a dear friend. A single mom of two beautiful "beans", as she calls them.

** SIDE NOTE: She and I joke that for the last 12+ years we "job shared". She had "our" job for 2+ years (got married, moved and had her "beans"), then I had it for 6 and a half (got married, had the Princess and decided to "retire"), at which point, she returned (with "beans", but minus the hubby), took the reigns over again, and has held down the fort with grace and resiliency. And she amazes me. Daily. **

So anyway, we were supposed to get together regarding a project we've got "cookin'". And, as a result of a series of unfortunate events, she wasn't going to be able to make it. She was upset. I listened. I consoled (a little) and said I'd call after the meeting anyway and reassured her (or tried to anyway) that it was no big deal.

I called, as promised, after the meeting.

And that's when the meltdown occurred.

Aside from the myriad of shit she'd dealt with that week, it's enough to know that her "typical" day begins at 3am and ends, if she's lucky at 10pm.

5 hours out of each day are hers and hers alone. 10pm-3am.

Oh yeah, except for the whole needing to sleep thing .....

So back to the meltdown - she was having one. A MUCH deserved one.

And I just listened.

In doing so, I heard panic in her voice at all the "extra" things on her To-Do List for the next day and into the weekend: shopping for remaining Daddy/Daughter Dance items (sweater, shoes, etc.), a side dish for a Cub Scouts banquet, work, etc.

FINALLY, I thought, something I can help with ... SHOPPING!

(See, our daughters are 6 weeks apart in age. And, some have said, I'm a pretty adept shopper.)

I offered to pick up the remaining Daddy/Daughter items and deliver them to her at work the next day.

And, while grateful, she said, what would REALLY be helpful, was simply an idea for the side dish for the banquet.

An IDEA?

Yeah, cuz THAT'LL help make your life easier.

Not wanting to let her down - but also knowing the whole shopping offer was WAY more in my wheelhouse - my brain scrambled through its (albeit limited) offering of hot side dish possibilities.

"Party potatoes", I said, while simultaneously thinking I was an idiot for suggesting the 5 ingredient, simplistic, almost not even a real recipe option.

Then she says, "Well, it's also got to be something that can stay warm in the car for an hour during church".

GGRRRRRR

WAIT! I have the perfect pan and a cool thermal carrier thing (that have been used once, maybe twice, while in my possession). I offered to bring the pan to her at work the next day, along with the "recipe".

Friday morning, I decided to stop at the store, pick up the ingredients (yes, ALL 5 of them), and deliver them along with the pan. (So, see? I still got to shop ...)

She was, beside herself thankful.

She called while making them the next day to say how easy they were. (HELLO - HAVE YOU MET ME? I'm ALL about EASY!)

I got a text Saturday evening mentioning they were a hit - but the cutest part was the phone call on Monday afternoon.

Remember, the side dish was for a Cub Scout banquet ... and, the general makeup of such events often includes "Stepford Mom" types. You know what I'm talking about.

And, my girl and I? That's SO NOT us.

So, imagine my sheer delight when she described not only the look on the Stepford Mom faces when she walked in, cool thermal tote in hand, and set on the table her offering for the evening, but the absolute GUSHING by various Dads and 8 year old boys. And the fact that the pan was practically licked clean!

Totally appreciated Rockstar Mommy - something she completely deserves.

And that makes me feel good.

WHAT did you say?

2009-02-26T14:20:00.002-05:00

So the other night, Princess was doing or saying something "inappropriate" - the exact thing is irrelevant to the story, as I've since forgotten, and here's why:

HER: (unacceptable thing said or done)

ME: That needs to stop.

HER: Don't count on it

ME: WHAT DID YOU SAY? (More out of shock than actual non-comprehension)

HER (as if I'm the biggest idiot on the planet): I SAID, DON'T COUNT ON IT, MOM!

After (calmly) sending her to her room, I poured myself a glass of wine and enjoyed it very much.

We SO didn't quit when we were ahead ....

2009-02-15T22:59:00.005-05:00

...... actually, we may never have been ahead......

We are a skiing family. I raced a LONG time ago. Hubby and I met ski instructing. My brother-in-law and his wife met ski instructing (and, truly, she and I could be sisters, right down to the bra size - but that is for another blog post entirely ... the similarities part, not the bra size part!) ...... ANYWAY, now that there are 5 kids in the picture, our family vacations are QUITE an adventure.

And today, was no different. It started on the slopes with Princess in a "mood". And really, after a long day of travel yesterday, I should have seen this one coming. Ah well. Chalk it up to, "I'm in the mountains now, so I don't give a crap". Either that, or the yummy wine my sister-in-law purchased ..... (see, I told you she was like a sister)

At one point, near the end of the day, my Father-In-Law announced that he was going to ski "somewhere" (I didn't pay attention to the detail here) and then go get the car. It was at this point that Hubby instructed his father to take me along for the journey. (I'm not sure which is worse: that I was fired from helping teach Princess to ski, or that I jumped at the chance to bolt? hhhmmmmmm)

So, off we went. FIL and me. As it turned out, I should have paid attention when he was describing where he was headed, because either; A) he forgot in the 3 minutes it took us to get to the chair, or B) he was full of shit and had no clue from the get-go.

I'll take Option B for $1000, Alex!

He did, at one point ski up behind me in one of the lift lines and say quietly to me, "By the way, I have no friggin clue where we are".

At another point on our "adventure" to get the car, we were waiting for a chair, that had broken down TWICE while we were in line. The second time it broke, we were second in line, and after about 10 minutes I posed this question: "How smart is it that we're about to get on a chairlift that keeps breaking?"

His answer? (Without budging an inch, by the way) "Probably not very."

Awesome.

**It's important to note here that by this point in the day, I was freezing. And standing in a line, or sitting on a chair in the wind, does NOT help. My FIL was kind enough to have given me (earlier in the day) some sort of heating "contraption", the likes of which I'd not seen before. He gave it to me because my hands were freezing, but he told me that I was supposed to put it in a pocket close to my heart, then it would keep my whole body warm.

(Again, Alex, I'll take BS for $1000)

While waiting in line for the chair with the breaking down tendency, FIL asked how that heating thing was working. I told him the only thing warm on me was my left boob and that his analysis of the heating contraption's powers needed reassessment.

(He laughed ..... that's how our family rolls ....)

We finally did make it to the car. And that chair? It did not break down with us on it!

Upon arrival back at the ranch, the girls (an 8 year old and two 4 year olds) decided that a trip to the pool would be in order.

Pools and hot tubs make kids tired, so who was I to argue, right?

Well in the hustle and bustle of getting on suits, etc. I failed to realize that the only two adults accompanying the girls and Little Man (who is not quite 2) on this pool "adventure", were my brother-in-law and me. I'm not sure at what point this realization hit him, but just prior to departure we shared a little Kum-bi-ya moment, joked about bringing alcohol and headed out the door.

As it turns out - we should have brought alcohol.

Here's the gist of what happened:

The 8 year old stepped on a 2 inch sheet of ice in the parking lot and body slammed herself to the ground. HARD. No way she doesn't have a ROCKSTAR bruise on her hip in the morning.
Once at the pool, Princess slipped and slammed her shin on the sharp edge of some tile, leaving both a scrape and a bruise.
8 year old then got a bloody nose. Twice.

Brother-in-law and I shared another glance and determined that things were, in fact, going from bad to worse and maybe this adventure needed to end sooner rather than later.

Upon herding all 4 (wet) kids into the locker room with me - WHAT WAS I THINKING??? - bro-in-law promises a quick change then help.

So now there are 3 wet girls and 1 wet toddler boy and me that all need to get changed and we're all standing on a WET TILE FLOOR. (OK, who the hell designed this pool area is my question?)

The 3 girls are all chattering different questions/requests/observations aimed in my general direction. And, in a moment of sheer stupidity, I LET GO OF LITTLE MAN'S ARM. In about half a second, his feet fly straight up in the air, and BAM his head hit the tile. Literally.

Now, over in the men's locker room (I find out moments later), bro-in-law hears the slam and then the shrieking, and wants desperately to come help. Problem being, he is completely naked. So, rather than put on his clothes, he decides the quicker option is to put his suit back on. Bad idea.

Before he knew what had happened, he was spread eagle on the floor of the (not empty) men's locker room, naked.

Shit.

He then decided dry clothes was a better option.

Once we got everyone dry and changed, we headed back to the condo.

If I told you that this whole trip took less than half an hour, would you believe me?

As we ascended the steps back to the condo, I looked at bro in law and said simply, "They are never going to believe us."

Sister-in-law, God love her, had wine at the ready.

How can tomorrow possibly top that?

(Did I just jinx myself?)

(Not so) Rockstar Mommy Needs a Vacation

2009-02-13T13:02:00.008-05:00

Who doesn't like going on vacation? I mean, really. Silly (rhetorical) question, I know.

As a child, vacations, for me, stirred up a kind of anticipation equaled only by that of Santa's arrival.

As an adult, WITHOUT children, vacations, while relaxing and fun, generally meant that I worked extra long hours prior to departure, collapsed during vacation to recover from those extra hours, and returned to an even larger pile of work. I needed a vacation from my vacation.

As a mom, getting ready to take a family outside the confines of the home for any length of time, really, can be an ordeal. But getting a family ready for vacation? Oy.

Aside from the "everyday life" stuff, "vacation" suddenly adds all these deadlines.

And I am SUCH a procrastinator. But, I have always worked best under pressure. And deadlines. Until now. I think.

See, it is becoming GLARINGLY EVIDENT that my "skills" in determining the amount of time needed to complete certain tasks, needs some, ahem, fine-tuning.

Hell, who am I kidding? My skills need a complete overhaul.

(And, right about now, many of you are asking, THEN WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU BLOGGING NOW? YA KNOW, WHEN YOU SHOULD BE TENDING TO THAT GROWING LIST OF THINGS TO DO WHILE THE CLOCK TICKS DOWN, JACK BAUER STYLE, TO THE 24 HOURS FROM NOW WHEN YOU HAVE TO BOARD A PLANE? WITH A HUSBAND. AND 2 CHILDREN.)

I've said it before. I'll say it again ...... Slow. Learner.

OK, so back to the packing and prepping ..... after running some last minute errands this morning (during which the kids were actually quite cooperative - score 1 for Mom), we returned home, with lunch, books and a nap for Little Man on the docket. Princess was informed that "Quiet Time" was in her future.

Lunches were made and consumed. Check.

Laundry continued. Check. Dishwasher emptied. Check.

Little Man down for nap, Princess set up for quiet time, phone call placed to neighbors to keep an eye on the place while we're gone.

Check. Check. Check.

With ten thousand things rattling around in my brain, I decide to "put it into high gear", as my Mom says, although, truthfully, I'm pretty sure my RPMs have been red-lined since Tuesday. Whirlwind Mommy for sure.

After adding 12 more items to the list of things that need to get accomplished prior to departure (but won't), I turned, focused on the laundry and packing again.

As I pass Princess - who is sitting on the couch with a book - she looks up and says, "Hey, Mom, I know you are busy but can I tell you something?"

Half irritated that my train of thought was interrupted (and that, quite frankly, is something that departs the station FREQUENTLY, just fine all on its own!) - I stop and look at her, and hurriedly respond with, "Sure. What is it?"

And here, my friends, is why I'm blogging today ......

My four year old then said this:

"Mommy. You're my hero."

Screw the list of things to do. It just doesn't get any better than that. I say BRING ON OUR VACATION!

Days like these

2009-01-19T16:23:00.004-05:00

Growing up, one of my favorite books was "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day" by Judith Viorst. If you are unfamiliar, it basically details a particularly "challenging" day for Alexander that begins, "I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and now there's gum in my hair ..." His day goes from bad to worse with things like dropping his sweater in the sink while the water was running ... having his favorite cereal gone AND no cool prize in the box ... he didn't have a window seat on the way to school ...dentist found a cavity during his checkup ... had to eat Lima beans for dinner, and wear his railroad train pajamas (he hates his RR train pajamas) to bed. Just to name a few.

Poor kid.

Today, I feel a bit like Alexander.

Let me start by telling you this - I hate going to the post office. So much so, that friends and family that live far, far away generally receive cards and gifts "eventually". Hey, birthdays are a season, I say.

Have I mentioned that I HATE going to the post office? Anyway, after some motivational meditation (for me), I bundled up my cabin-feverish children, piled them into the car and headed out to run errands. First up: the post office to mail back a Christmas present we received (king sheets - and we have a queen bed) from my Nana (and those of you that know her are likely shaking your head and laughing right now), and a thank you gift that's about 2 weeks overdue.

Imagine my delight when I pulled in the parking lot and there was only one other car! ...... SCORE! I parked right up front (ROCK STAR PARKING), and like an excited child on Christmas morning, threw open the doors, grabbed the "goodies" and turned to head inside. At this point, I caught a glimpse of the window that usually reveals the inevitably long line of customers patiently waiting for the next SLOWEST CASHIER EVER - it was dark.

HUH?

At that point, I turned into the child on Christmas morning that asked for a puppy and got a turtleneck instead.

It's MLK day. A holiday. Post office closed.

Crap.

So, next up: the dry cleaners. And, I cursed national holidays the whole way there.

I pulled in to the cleaners, and reached into my purse to grab my wallet. STRIKE TWO - no wallet in said purse. Diapers? Yes. Hand sanitizer? Of course. Snacks? Always - like an Eagle Scout, a mom can never be too prepared. Sippy cup? Check.

But no wallet.

I had a FREAKING SIPPY CUP in my purse - and no wallet.

Luckily, I had the checkbook (with only one check left in it - which reminds me, I now need to find the box of checks ........). And, I know my driver's license number by heart, so the kind lady allowed me to recite it to her instead of presenting it - I think she could sense my "mood". Thankfully.

No more errands.

We're home now. Celebrating the "holiday".

JUST when Mommy is ready to blow ...

2009-01-16T20:53:00.003-05:00

It's been "one of those days" ...... Princess even picked up on Mommy's "mental" state.

Heard at our house today:

HER: "Mommy, you look tired."

ME: "I am, peanut. You and your brother wore me out today."

HER: "Yeah. We're sorry about that."

ME: (speechless)

HER: "Does that make you happy?"

ME: "Yes."

HER: "I love you, Mommy."

The above exchange alone ALMOST made it so I didn't have to drink tonight!

Here's where I've been

2009-01-07T15:32:00.003-05:00

I haven't posted on my blog in a while ..... and that seems to be a recurring theme, especially lately.

And yes, I have been facebooking (when did that become a verb, by the way?),but I do not think that's the reason for my blog-neglect.

I keep saying I'm waiting for "inspiration" (which sounds WAY more formal than ANY of my posts have been to date) .....

But I think I know the reason I've been "missing", and it's this:

Back in August, I dove HEAD FIRST into something new (I tend to do that) ... on a whim (kind of), I joined Weight Watchers. I just COULD NOT lose the extra "baby weight", and as I was headed to a local shoe store with Little Man, I just sort of wandered in to the WW that was next door.
That was on August 22, 2008 - around 10am. I immersed myself in all things WW, attended weekly meetings at 7:30am on Saturdays and was diligent (read: MILITANT) about my POINTS intake and food tracking. At the end of September, I walked 60 miles in the Breast Cancer 3 Day. And, about a month later, I started spinning at a local gym at 6:30 on Tuesday and Thursday mornings.

All of that resulted in this: at about 4:30pm on November 17, 2008, I had lost over 21 lbs and declared my "Goal Weight" (for the purposes of Weight Watchers' lifetime membership).

The 3 Day walk (and training) and weight loss are not the reasons I haven't been blogging. But they're a big part of why I strayed from blogging initially ..... and then my life, our life, was turned upside down.

In the midst of finding my happy and healthy me, my husband lost his job. Yep, October 23rd will forever be the day that changed our lives. He was in sales. In Michigan. And in case you haven't heard, our economy sucks.

So, we have been doing A LOT of soul searching, and discussing, and budget planning. And more soul searching, and discussing, and planning ........

And, when our kids do something funny, or unnerving, or downright HILARIOUS, I don't have to blog about it, because I have a REAL, LIVE person here to share it with! And, the best part is, rather than wanting to kill each other, we have fallen in love all over again - or more - or whatever.
And, when I need a break - I don't have to escape to my blog, I can ACTUALLY escape. I can, literally leave the house, in the middle of the day.

I know you other SAHMs are foaming at the mouth right now, yes?

Well, today, an interesting thing happened ... I took Princess to school, then had a meeting. So, hubby and Little Man were home together (as usual on Monday and Wednesday mornings). When I walked in the door just before Little Man's nap, he was glad to see me, but not "coming unglued" excited (which has been the case) ..... I chalked it up to the fact that it was nap time, and he was cuddling with Daddy while enjoying some milk.
So, I followed the gruesome twosome into Little Man's room and offered to change him and put him down. Daddy handed over the little guy.

As hubby left the room and turned down the hallway, Little Man started crying and called out, "DDAAAAAAAAAADDDYYYYY".

Daddy walked back in. Crying stopped. Mommy's heart broke.

I promptly told hubby he needed to get a job.

Seriously.

Decorating Debacle

2008-12-11T12:57:00.008-05:00

Yeah Yeah - I've been neglectful again ...... and I received a very cool blog award from Rachel - and I PROMISE I'll fulfill my end of the bargain soon ..... (thank you)

On with what I HAVE to share:

So the Princess is ALL ABOUT decorating - which is probably a good thing because while I LOVE having the house decorated for the holidays, I have difficulty finding the motivation to actually do it! So, an ambitious 4 year old is JUST what Santa ordered, right?

Not so fast .....

(SIDENOTE: Princess keeps asking if we can decorate for Halloween. I keep correcting her, but it's not sinking in .....)

Picture this: we go downstairs and pull out ALL the boxes of Christmas decorations so she can pick what she wants to go into her bedroom. (She has informed me that hers is the room in which the decorating frenzy will begin.)

She steps back to "survey" the landscape, and in doing so, she lets out a huge "OOOOOO" and an even bigger "Mommy - can I have THAT ONE??"

I look at her and realize that the little outstretched 4 year old arm is not pointed at ANY of the 12 Holiday- filled boxes. Oh no, not my Princess. She is looking up, almost to the ceiling and pointing at the "treasure" she has found.

Perched high atop one of the shelves is "Fred".

I know what you're thinking ... is Fred a snowman? Maybe one of Santa's castaway reindeer? Something, ANYTHING resembling the season?

Wait no more - here's a picture of Fred:

Nice. THIS is what the Princess wants to use to decorate her room for the holidays?

Well, it gets even better. See, what Princess cannot read (thankfully) is the inscription on the bottom of Fred's wooden perch.

Oh yeah - here it is:

See, Fred was a gift from a baseball player here in Kalamazoo who spent his offseasons in warmer climates. I believe Fred was purchased in Puerto Rico. Baseball players are an unusual breed (to say the least).

So, the boxes of ACTUAL holiday decorations are back on the shelves. And it appears that Fred will be spending Christmas upstairs this year.

Life like a leaf ....

2008-11-13T09:58:00.001-05:00

So I’m dusting off this old, neglected blog … I’ve been on “hiatus”, for no real reason. I guess I just ran out of motivation to post – I got busy – and uninspired.

But, I’m back (for now), with no promises and no expectations.

So here I sit, at my trusty laptop, and, as I look out at our backyard I see one of my very favorite sights in the world – FALL! Colorful leaves (that mostly cover our lawn now) – the crisp air …. I love it all! Of course, the colors of my favorite season are coming to an end, but as I notice the last few leaves clinging for dear life to their branches, it makes me wonder…

And think about life – and how I’m living it …

So here’s my thought: someone recently said something like “ …. how cool is it that God makes the leaves turn pretty colors for us, before they fall off the trees?”

Today’s post is not to discuss whether or not you believe the religious implications of that statement, rather, it’s about whether or not you’re choosing to live life, like a leaf.

See, leaves live most of their “life”, being green. Consider the life of most leaves (at least in places with 4 actual seasons) – from spring through summer, they sway in their greenness on a branch. Day in. Day out. Sun comes up – they’re green. Sun goes down – still green.

And then, something magical happens … as if inspired by the knowledge that the end is near (metaphorically, of course) – they begin to share their beauty with the rest of the world. For others to enjoy.

And it makes me wonder, if each of us spends our life sharing our colors? Choosing to shine, rather than simply exist in our greenness.

Karma's a B*TCH!

2008-10-02T14:39:00.002-04:00

OK, so if you haven't read my post from earlier today, click here and then come back.

We'll wait.

Welcome back .....

So, as if my morning wasn't "eventful" enough. Karma has decided to throw me another curve ball today.....

Once Little Man FINALLY fell asleep for his nap, I decided to do some work around the house while Princess was playing play-doh. (Aside from picking up toys, starting laundry, and checking email, I put chicken in the crock-pot and cut veggies for the meatloaf I plan on making later too). I lost track of time and before I knew it, Little Man was sitting up in bed screaming (WAY sooner than he should have been, FYI). *Shit.* No shower. AGAIN.

I gave him a sec, he laid back down and was still. So, I plopped Princess on the couch with a movie and said, "Don't move. Mommy needs to take a shower."

All was well (Princess only came in 3 times during the shower) ... UNTIL I turned the water off.

As soon as the water stopped, I was startled (to say the least) by this blood-curdling screetching sound. I would describe to you the exact events that immediately transpired, but it would sound like some bad porn movie, and this was anything but "saucy" .....

It took me a second to realize that what I was hearing was the smoke alarms. Yes, plural. All of them. The immediate panic was Princess - where was she? - did she get off the couch? - did she start a fire? Shit. Shit. Shit.

I ran out of the bathroom (yes, dripping and still sans clothing) and into the living room. Princess was sitting in the middle of the floor with her hands over her ears screaming, "MAKE IT STOP!"

OK, whew. She's good.

Now all I could think was: MAKE IT STOP BEFORE IT WAKES UP THE SLEEPING CHILD!

I flew into the kitchen (yes, still dripping and naked - which is NOT a good combo when you hit the linoleum), grabbed a chair and ran back through the family room, and down the hall. I was pushing buttons ... nothing. I was whacking the thing... NOTHING was working.

BRAINSTORM! I'll take out the batteries.

Yeah, the effing things STILL work. Even without batteries. (So tell me why we have to change the batteries every time the clocks change?)

So I move into our bedroom (all this running seems to be drying me off slightly, by the way) while simultaneously dialing hubby's cell #.

He answers - alarms still aflutter - and here's how the conversation went:

HIM: Hello

ME: HOW DO I TURN THE SMOKE ALARMS OFF?

HIM: What? How did you set the smoke alarms off?

ME: I DON'T KNOW! AND TAKING THE BATTERIES OUT ISN'T STOPPING THEM!

HIM: Is there a fire?

ME: I don't know. I don't think so.

HIM: Well HAVE YOU LOOKED? That would be the FIRST thing I'd do.

ME: Yeah - kinda - I don't see anything. And my "first thing" is making sure your son doesn't wake up! Now, HOW DO I TURN THEM OFF???

HIM: There should be a reset button

(BTW - I couldn't find one)

I took the cover off of one, and they all stopped beeping.

At this point, loving Hubby went on to explain why they were all going off at the same time. I wasn't really paying attention. He also suggested I go look in the basement to make sure everything was cool.

And then he requested a call back when everything was "all clear".

I just keep telling myself ... Live. Laugh. Love. ..... Right?

Even in the face of Karma ....

What a Day

2008-10-02T12:39:00.005-04:00

My poor, poor, neglected blog. I'm actually posting - I know, SHOCKING!

First thing I have to say is that The Breast Cancer 3 Day Walk last weekend was truly AMAZING.

Fan-Freaking-Tastic.

And I'm losing 2 toenails.

And I still think it was one of the most gratifying things I've accomplished. (And that's saying somethin' because I am a big, GIANT, weenie - just ask my Mom).

The Walk changed me - or at least a part of me. I realized that so much of what I spend time worrying about or complaining about, just doesn't matter. To "stop and smell the roses" (as cheesy and cliche as it sounds) is actually pretty sage advice.

So, I've decided not to sweat the small stuff. Problem is, I haven't been sweating ANYTHING this week. And when you're a SAHM of 2 little ones, that's not always a good thing. OK, actually, it's almost never a good thing. At least for the long-haul.

Toys all over the floor?

Whatever.

Princess has taken off all of Little Man's clothes because "he was hot" (note: he can't talk yet).

Fine.

Hubby has no clean underwear because I haven't done laundry yet?

Go commando.

You get my drift, here. Yes?

So, last night I went to bed and vowed that today would be a new day.
Today I would figure out that balance between effective "mommyness" while possessing the ever important "Live. Laugh. Love" kind of attitude. Ya know, that savoring-the-moments-in-between thing.

Well, karma has kicked me in the ass today.

I woke up and let the dog out, turned on the coffee pot, and when I went to let the dog back in, discovered that she had rolled in shit. Literally. And, after putting my nose down there for verification (because the stench wafting 3 feet above CLEARLY wasn't enough of a deterrent for my "morning brain"), I proceeded to put my hand in it.

Slow learner strikes again. I know, I know - common theme here.

At breakfast, Little Man didn't want ANYTHING. He chucked everything I put in front of him on the floor (which was driving the quarantined dog CRAZY out on the deck because she could see all the yumminess just taunting her from the other side of the sliding door).

At lunch, he decided to shove peas up his nose. Why do boys do that? Seriously?

Princess was keeping quiet (which should have been an IMMEDIATE red flag for Mommy) - and when I finally got around to inspecting what was keeping her so busy, I realized she had torn apart, page by page, my very favorite childhood book, and was using her glue stick to afix used stickers to all the pages. (How's this for irony: the book is called "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day")

Karma is a bitch.

At least today.

And it's only noon(ish).

What the hell was I thinking?

2008-09-09T15:02:00.002-04:00

OK, let me first start by saying, I have an unnatural fear of a few things: clowns, mimes, and the like … also some more “natural” fears: snakes, sharks and SPIDERS. Seriously, I would say that clowns and spiders are tied at the top.

My husband knows this about me (and loves me anyway). So, imagine my displeasure at his announcement the other night that The Princess had spider bites as a result of all the stuffed animal CRAP that resides on her bed. Then he informed me that he had “removed” two of the little creepy, crawly creatures FROM HER BED that evening. The look on my face apparently clued him in before I could actually utter “WHAT? She has spiders IN her bed? Are you friggin kidding me????” See, before I could unintelligibly utter that whole phrase, he interjected with, “Don’t freak out….”

Um. Yeah. Right. HAVE YOU MET ME?

Now, the purpose of this post is not to chastise the hubby …… rather, to admit to the “world” that I made an even greater faux pas.

This morning, the Princess awoke with a red spot on her face. Upon further inspection, I decided it was a spider bite. Then she started scratching one spot on her head during breakfast. And another on her leg just after lunch. After close inspection of all 3, I determined that what hubby had mentioned a few nights ago was likely not so far off the mark. UGH.

So, I decided that we needed to get all the crap off of the Princess' bed.

*NOTE: Anyone with children likely knows the myriad of “baubles” a child feels he or she NEEDS to have in bed … it starts as an innocent thing like a special blanket or bear to help them self-soothe, and then before you can bat your eyes, there are books, dolls, stuffed animals, extra pillows, 14 blankets and 67 miscellaneous items in there as well. Most parents also know the hell that is trying to take even one of those “precious” items out of the mix. Pick your battles – am I right?*

OK, so back to this afternoon and my decision to purge the crap from Princess’ bed. I knew it was something that she had to be on board with – something that was kind of her idea.

HERE’S WHERE MY PLAN CAME TO A SCREECHING HALT. See, I usually think things through. Today, I totally brain-farted.

So, as the Princess began scratching her leg again – she came to me asking for a band aid (if I’d let her, she’d wear 39 band aids a day. It’s an obsession for her ….). I thought to myself, ‘here’s my in’. Poor planning.

After telling the Princess she didn’t need a band aid, she (of course) asked “Why?” So, here’s what “rocket-scientist-of-a-mom” replied with:
ME: Honey, you don’t need a band aid because that’s a spider bite. Just like the bump you keep scratching on your face.

(At this point she looked puzzled – which would have been a clue for anyone else – but did I stop there? OH NO……)

ME: Honey, you know all those stuffed animals on your bed?

(It was at this point that the absolutely HORRIFIED look on her face clued me in to the fact that my “idea” was really just a complete and utter TRAINWRECK…)

The mere mention of “spiders” and “your bed” anywhere in the vicinity of each other had inflicted the kind of fear that no mother wishes upon their children. Especially when YOU are the one who recklessly causes it!

*Nice work, Mom. How the hell are you going to backpedal your way out of this one?*

So, I continued ……
ME: Sweetie, I think that the HUGE pile of animals is so comfy that sometimes the spiders want to cuddle.

SERIOUSLY? CUDDLE? (By the way, the horrified look was NOT going away)

ME: So, I think, maybe, what we should do is find a new place for all of the extra stuff on your bed.

I have seriously NEVER seen her react so quickly.

PRINCESS: “OK Mom. Let’s get that stuff off the bed. NOW.”

We quickly cleared a place in her toybox and she piled (actually, chucked) ALL of the stuff from her bed in the toybox.

Aside from a few questions about whether or not the spiders would still climb in her bed – to which I tried to reassure that spiders are afraid of people – she seemed satisfied with our “plan”.

The positive thing here to remember people, is that I very quickly got her to remove the crap from her bed… of course, the whole being scarred for life thing could probably have been avoided.

Nice work, Mommy.

Bye Bye Baby

2008-09-04T12:45:00.003-04:00

Little Man is getting his first haircut today ... it's mostly to shut the grandfather's up. Mommy's not sure how she'll deal with this ......

The Christmas Hug

2008-08-19T14:23:00.001-04:00

This story was recently told to me by the younger man in the story. Give those you love a hug today.

The Christmas Hug
After a family Christmas gathering, an older man – once a strong soldier now battling devastating sickness – was tired. He went downstairs to take a nap. After about 20 minutes, the stepson quietly snuck downstairs to retrieve his shoes. Hearing the younger man, the older man started calling out to him from his room. The stepson went in and found the older man sitting up in bed. For the first time since they’d known each other, the older man says, “Give me a hug” (they’d always been hand-shakers). So, the stepson gave him a hug, and felt like the older man was saying “goodbye”.
The stepson wished the older man well and walked out of the room. When he turned back, the older man – now out of bed - was standing right behind him and said, “We can do better than that”.
They shared another hug - their last Christmas hug.

He's BAAAAAACKKK....

2008-08-18T11:21:00.002-04:00

You (Just My Type) spoke ..... he listened .....

The unknown poet has returned,
with thoughts and observations.
From your blog I've had some laughs,
But also some frustrations.

Your vacation sounded wonderful,
The family, sand and sun.
Although I really have to say,
All that driving don't sound fun.

Latte kindness, I have tried it,
It's fun to make folks smile.
Too bad there ain't more folks like us,
Full of charity and style.

Then I read "Entitlement",
And was at a loss for words.
Those two kids that you describe,
They sound to me like turds.

What kind of people act like that,
When they have a 'loved one' pass?
Sounds to me like both of them,
Need a boot upside the @ss.

So in closing let me say,
All my best to you.
From my little writers nest,
To you in the 'zoo.

Random thoughts from a TIRED Mommy ...

2008-08-13T21:35:00.003-04:00

Princess is in the throes of ear infection #2 in as many weeks. She's always been prone to getting them, but had avoided any the last 18 months. I'm lucky, Princess is a ROCK STAR when it comes to taking meds - she seriously sucks every last drop out of the dispenser and even licks her lips. Craziest thing I've ever seen ..... HOWEVER, the mere mention of ear drops - HOLY ERUPTION, Batman! Come distribution time, it's like trying to wrestle a greased pig (I'm guessing).
On top of that, yesterday the ENT suctioned out some fluid so now if anyone gets ANYWHERE near her head, she freaks. I mean, seriously freaks the "F" out!

Princess was supposed to start 3 days a week at preschool this week ... she hasn't been yet.

Princess turns 4 on Friday - the only day this week she'll actually (hopefully) be at school. Mommy has NO IDEA what she's going to send in as a treat ....

Little Man is dealing well with the cabin fever as a result of having a sick sister all week .....

As a result of Princess' upcoming birthday, I have an opinion about a few things (actually I have opinions about A LOT of things - but the birthday has brought THESE particular things to light) ...... I think that balloons that sing were invented by grandparents with an evil sense of humor and should be outlawed immediately! And, while we're at it, let's ban any and all confetti that people find so cute to stuff in cards? I ask, because, you see, some of us are VERY SLOW LEARNERS and we rip open envelopes thus sending an unbelievable amount of confetti considering the size of the "delivery vehicle" (I mean SERIOUSLY, how much of that crap can actually fit in one friggin envelope??!!!).

K. Tired Mommy off to bed ....