Phantom Wash Cycle

After doing 10 loads of laundry, it definitely boggles my mind how I could possibly forget to put the clothes in the washer. I know you are asking yourself the same question so let me expand on this.

This may be extremely boring information, but it will explain (sort of) why I could forget to put the clothes in the washing machine after I had turned it on.

I turn the washer on, dump laundry detergent in mixing with the water (otherwise you get these mysterious stains from the detergent itself), pour fabric softner in and then add the clothes.

This is a fairly simple process except with our new washer, I have to keep the lid closed in order to make the water run (Now you can see how this might be possible).

While I was waiting for the water to fill up a little, I was folding the clothes I had taken out of the dryer. I was in a hurry and took the folded clothes upstairs to be put away. Then I was onto another task and forgot to add the clothes to the washer.

After I assumed enough time had past to complete the load, I went downstairs to discover that the washer was empty and realizing that I just washed water. Great, what a waste of water and soap. So I start the washer again. I unload the dryer, fold the clothes and double check the washer to make sure clothes are in it this time.

Now this isn't even the weirdest thing about the Phantom Wash Cycle.

I turned the dryer on and took the folded clothes upstairs to put away.

Did you figure it out? Because I didn't until I came downstairs again and realized I dried the Phantom load of laundry.

Christmas Shopping

Child#1 kept asking Daddy to take her shopping because she wanted to buy Mommy a present for Christmas (Awww, so sweet. She had no interest in getting daddy a present just mommy). Of course, Child#2 and Child#3 did their sisterly duty and wanted to do the same. They were all very excited to get exclusive time with Daddy at the store. Daddy set the budget for each child and they had to stick to it (real life experience, woohoo!). The goal was to get mom a gift and each of her sisters.

Child#1 went shopping first with dad. She was really focused on getting mom a gift and then her sisters. Child#1 was successful in sticking to the budget, proudly wrapped her gifts and placed them under the tree. Basking in the good feeling of giving to others.

Then Child#2 went shopping next with dad. Her focus was getting her sisters a gift and then mom. So Child#2 picked out three bottles of nail polish for her sisters, but dad interrupted her excitement and asked, "Why are you getting three bottles?" Child#2 answered with a slight click of the tongue, "Well, Dad it wouldn't be fair if my sisters got this and I didn't." She made sure she had enough money for the extra present for herself.

Finally, Child#3 went shopping with dad. Her focus was the same as Child#2. Without the concern of anyone else, she was proud to get herself a gift.

Apparently, Child#1 got the real reason behind Christmas being selfless and giving to others. Unfortunately, Child#2 and Child#3 have more to learn.

Close Talkers

How do you deal with the Close Talkers?

It's bad enough when people are close talkers when they are sober, but when alcohol is involved it makes it ten times worse.

So we are on our way out of a Christmas Party and everyone is saying good-bye. Of course, I get stuck with a close talker. It's not exactly a good-bye. It is the start of another conversation. He is in my face and I take a casual step back while still listening to his rambling. He takes a step closer. Now it has turned into a game. I take another step back. And he continues to follow. I slide to my left once. Then I step back again. Dam, I hit the couch. No where to go.

What would you do? (Wasn't there a Seinfeld episode on this?)

Thank God, another close talker strolls up. They start talking to each other and I make my get away to the left and exit.

Please respect the personal space.

Mr. Mom

Well, I have lost my Mr. Mom. It was nice while it lasted. James is back to work and we are back to our crazy life again. I can't wait for Christmas break. Then it will be my turn to be Ms. Mom. WOOHOO! (This oozes with sarcasm. I just wanted to make that clear). At least I will be able to sleep in.

Stamps

Since James has been off work, I have had minor requests for him. I needed stamps to send out Christmas cards. No problem. He even called me at work to ask what stamps he should get. I told him to get the forever stamps, which I had to go in depth on what the forever stamps were and that I needed 100 of them.

So lets recap, the request is for 100 forever stamps.

I get home and there is one book of stamps (only 20 stamps).

I guess another stop at the Post Office will be on tomorrow's list.

More role reversal

Now I understand why men like to be the bred winners of the family. When you come home from work, the house is cleaned, dinner is on the table and the homework is already done. I am enjoying this.

Blueberries

I don't know why I never thought of this before, but eating frozen blueberries is like eating a popsicle. I normally buy frozen blueberries for making smoothies for the kids, but they have grown tired of the smoothies so I only make them once in awhile. Plus the smoothies are a pain to make sometimes and can be messy (see blog in June "Are smoothies really worth it?"). So I have been eating a handleful of frozen blueberries every morning. Healthly food tip for the year:)

P.S. You can also use the frozen blueberries in pancakes if you like blueberry pancakes.

Zipper Paranoia

Somehow I have developed zipper paranoia. Every time I get up from my desk at work, I check my zipper to make sure it hasn’t slid down while I was sitting. I am not exactly sure when I developed this, but now I am starting to wonder if I have been doing this after meetings too. This is just great, it’s bad enough I have a schizophrenic mind, but now I have OCD issues.

Well, it’s a good thing we are going to be taxed on our health care. I have always wanted to pay more for my health care premiums.

Trick or Treating

Halloween this year was a lot of fun. We may have to find a bigger neighborhood next year. We went trick or treating with my nephews and the girls. All the kids were literally running from house to house. Child #3 was a great trooper and possibly a little craftier than the other kids.

As a crowd of kids came up to one door, Child #3 fell behind waiting her turn to receive her candy. Her sisters and cousins were ahead of her by one house, but she kept on going not wanting to miss any of the houses. She went up to the house alone and came back all excited that they gave her two pieces of candy. SThe next house there were already two kids at the door so she hung back in the driveway until the kids left the door then went up to the door to get her candy.

After watching her do this at the next couple of houses, we started laughing. Our three year old had created a strategy to swindle more candy. Child #3 definitely made her daddy a proud papa.

Why are children curious about holes?

It was a quiet Tuesday evening. Of course, it always starts out as a quiet evening at our house. Okay, maybe not, but we had eaten dinner and #1 was playing the Wii with Dad and I was making Perler bead designs with #2 and #3 so it was pretty calm for our standards.

#1 decided to be done with the Wii and came into the kitchen to join us. She wanted to make a necklace so she got out the other beads, made her necklace and brought it over to me to tie the end off.

As I’m tying the end, she becomes distraught and said there was a bead stuck in her nose.

I thought she was joking so I didn’t react right away. The dialogue going through my head was: How the hell could a bead get in her nose anyway? I only took my eyes off of her for a second. There was no way I didn’t see her put a bead up her nose.

Then she started getting hysterical and said, “It’s going up farther, Mom. Get it out! Get it out! If you don’t get it out, I will have to go to the hospital.”

Now after this statement, the wheels start to spin. Why would she say she would have to go to the hospital unless someone had told her this?

So I look at her nose, and yep, she had a red bead stuck up there. Of course, I couldn’t help myself. I started to laugh. It was really funny. She was still crying and a little hysterical, but she could breath.

I get the tweezers to see if I can get it out. No such luck.

Then Dad comes up with a brilliant idea. “#1, try blowing your nose.” What a simple solution. She tried once. It didn’t come out. She kept repeating we are going to have to go to the hospital. I asked her to try again with my assistance the bead came flying out.

Curiosity always kills the cat, but the cat has nine lives so I asked #1, “Why would you think you would have to go to the hospital?”

“Because someone at school had to when she got a bead up her nose.”

In sync, Dad and I asked, “Then why would you put one up your nose?”

We never really got an answer. We will just look at this as an experiment of curiosity. Hopefully, this has no bearing on future activity with other objects or substances.

Lazy Sunday for Mom

Good old Catholic guilt doesn’t always get me out of bed for church so I asked James to take the kids to Sunday school for me. He took Child #2 and #3 to their Sunday school class at nine in the morning, dropped them off and came back home. Then went back at ten to pick them up and dropped Child#1 off for her class.

I finally got up, went down stairs, started some laundry and hopped on the treadmill. Half way through my workout, I heard the foot steps above me. Then the foot steps down the stairs.

He found me and was visibly mad. “I’m getting a phone down here. I’ve been trying to call you.”

I replied with, “I have my cell phone with me. You could have called that. Why what happened?”

He went into a rant about my car this and my car that. He basically ran out of gas.

I nicely asked, “Where did you run out of gas?”

He answered, “Janesville and St Leonard’s.”

“Oh, that is right by the gas station.” This probably wasn’t the best thing to say because he continued to lecture me about how I shouldn’t run the tank so low.

Then I can’t help myself so I asked, “Didn’t you look at the gas gauge?”

Cantankerously, he replied, “Oh no. Don’t turn this on me.” At this point, I can’t help but laugh. He eventually laughed too.

Just another saga to our humorous lives.

Wild Imagination

About every two months I get my hair cut and highlighted, which takes approximately two hours. It happened that my appointment landed on a Wednesday this time, which is the same day as soccer practice. Normally I come home from work and get dinner ready before the kids and dad get home from soccer practice. Except this time, my loving husband gave me the night off (similar to a spa day for some women). So I went out running and then went to my hair appointment (enjoying myself completely since I wasn’t interrupted by any phone calls).

After the appointment, I hop into my vehicle and look for my phone in my purse to call James to let him know I am on my way home. Except I realize I left my phone in the car and there were several missed calls all from him.

So I quickly call him. He answered the phone, but doesn’t sound to enthusiastic. Of course, I ask how things went and he answered with a “not good.” Obviously he was mad at me for not answering my phone and he won’t tell me what happened. I express that I would like to know what happened. He finally tells me that Child #3 was running and got hurt. Then he said he will tell me the rest when I get home.

At this point my stomach dropped because I started imagining the worst like she ran out into the road and a car hit her or she was running and hit her head hard.

Immediately I demanded to know what happened. So he told me that she was goofing around in her bedroom and ran from her sister’s bed to hers, but didn’t realize that her doll house was on the floor and stepped on it and cut the bottom of her foot really bad.

I calmly asked, “Did the bleeding stop?”

He replied, “Yes. She just fell asleep, but there was a lot of blood and she is in a lot of pain. I gave her some Motrin. I don’t know if she will be able to walk tomorrow.”

So this was a relief to me since I was expecting something way more serious. When I got home, I checked her foot out. It was a bad cut and will probably hurt tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure she will be okay.

Around midnight, Child #3 is standing in my bedroom doorway and says cheerfully, “Hi mommy.”

I reply, “Hi honey, you can come up on the bed.” She hops up into the bed with us, not to mention without even a hint of a limp.

The power of CraigsList

Several months ago, my mom suggested that Child #1 needed a desk to do her home work on. I didn’t see a need since she does her homework with us at the kitchen table.

Of course a couple of weeks ago, Child #1 requested that she have a desk to do her homework on. Surprise, surprise. I wonder where she got that idea.

Like I always do, I waited about a week or so. Obviously, to get the second request or third request before I actually take action. And I know once I agree to get a desk for Child #1, Child #2 and #3 will want one too. So I am mentally planning out how to rearrange their rooms (again) to fit the desks.

I start my search on www.craigslist.com. There are a lot of choices, but I am looking for real cheap. I know for a fact all three will trash these desks. Between stickers and markers, the desks won’t have a chance.

My requirements are small, wood and drawers (for personal space). I come across a desk for $10. I send out my email and get a response. Ironically, the pick up is in our city (very convenient and the desk was the perfect size, wood and had drawers). James picked this up on Thursday. Child #1 was so excited.

Second desk, requested $30, but I waited too long to schedule a pick up time and lost that one, which turned out for the best.

Third desk, requested $15, maple desk with drawers, perfect size and included matching hutch and chair. This was the best deal by far and was in better condition than the first one. Pick up was pretty close too, which James picked up on Friday.

Almost there just need one more. Of course, Child #3 is getting mad she doesn’t have her desk yet so I am anxious to get another desk.

Forth desk, requested $15 and meets my requirements. Looks very similar to the second one we picked up. I email the owner for pick up time on Saturday. I email her Saturday morning to confirm the time and get her address. No response. I email again in the afternoon. No response. Then I email her on Sunday morning, requesting I need to pick up the desk today (Child #3 isn’t very happy about the delay on her desk). Finally I get an email with her address and the time to pick up. I send James to go pick it up. He calls the owner before he gets there and no one answers. He waits around and calls me. I call the owner and get no answer. At this point, I am a little pissed. I JUST NEED THE DAM DESK. Well she finally comes out with the desk. James calls me back after he has the desk to tell me he has locked his keys in his truck.

I piled all the kids into the car to bring him the spare set of keys for his truck. Thankfully, a local was able to give him the tools to pop the locks (coat hanger and screw driver) so I actually didn’t have to drive all the way there.

3 desks in 4 days, equals 3 happy children, not bad for $40.

I love www.craigslist.com.

Woohoo!

I had Child #1's first grade parent teacher conference. The teacher had nothing but nice things to say like "Child #1 is pleasant to have in class," which is always nice to hear.

She has come a long way. The signs of motivation and confidence have finally shown through. I am so relieved to see this. We still have a lot of hurdles, but at least she is getting it. As long as the motivation is there, she will find her rhythm. Woohoo!

Why?

Why is it when you accidentally bite the inside of your cheek you continue to do so involuntarily?

Then even after you have stopped biting the inside of your cheek it continues to hurt for the next three days.

Why?

Baseball Smackdown

Apparently combining hand eye coordination and strength leaves you with a huge welt that almost brings tears to your eyes.

I picked up a game of good old whiffle ball in the yard with Child #1. First ball, she connects and the ball goes high and to the left. Second ball, she connects again and the ball goes to the left. Third ball, a line drive into my forearm, thankfully I was quick enough to cover my face.

I had to make her back up twice because every ball after that was a line drive right to me. I became quite good at pitching and ducking.

Next, Daddy pulls up into the driveway. Great the relief pitcher is here. He starts pitching to her. By her third hit, she had nailed him with a line drive into his left inner thigh. He had a full out bruise from the ball.

It may be possible she is ready for the batting cages.

Pure Attitude

Its morning...I’m ironing my pants for work and Child #2 walks into my bedroom. “Good Morning Mommy.”

I say, “Good Morning, Sweet Pea. Could you get dressed for me?”

In her spotted cup cake nightgown, she replies with a tah from her tongue and sighs with her hand on her hip, “I’m already dressed, Mommy.”

I reply, “Could you please get your school clothes on then?”

The Cheshire grin spreads across her beautiful face and says, “You asked if I could get dressed.”

If you can imagine the attitude at four, just imagine the attitude at thirteen. I am in really big trouble. Does anyone know a good Boot Camp? I may need a referral.

Child #1 Got Game

James asked Child #1, if she was okay with him missing her soccer game last week.

Child #1 answered, “I don’t even care if my sisters show up to the game. I just need to work on my game, Dad.” Of course, this was said in a matter of fact tone.

Your kids’ answers to questions have to be the funniest part about parenthood.

Although, today Child #1 did score her first goal. She obviously has been working on her game.

Psycho Soccer Mom... Who me?

As predicted by my husband, I have become the psycho soccer mom.

I have to start from the beginning so bare with me.

I signed Child #1 for a soccer club. Now when you pay good money for a program that is supposed to be a step up from the park and rec, you have a certain level of skills you expect your child to learn.

With that being said, I volunteered my husband to be coach (my husband has played soccer from age six to high school where he went to state twice and had an opportunity to play for the Milwaukee Wave, that is before he put a saw through his foot, but that isn’t the point) hoping to improve the quality of the program. Unfortunately, he wasn’t picked for the job (I didn’t think we had to list his whole resume for the job). He wasn’t even picked for assistant coach (and we have two assistant coaches).

So guess what we ended up with as coaches. I bet you won’t guess in a million years.

Drum roll. We get a F@$%&#$ ex-football punter coach with two assistant coaches that have no coaching skills whatsoever.

Practices are too early for me to make so James has been taking Child #1 to all the practices. He has been filling me in on what has been happening at practice so I am a little agitated already by the time we get to our first game.

We show up for the first game. The other team is organized and running drills before the game. All three of our coaches are standing around talking while the girls stand in line not knowing what to do.

At this point, my skin has turned red from my boiling temper. I am ready to go out on the field and start guiding them in skills to get them warmed up. James has to hold me back. I am supposed to give them the benefit of the doubt. Right?

The game starts and our team has no idea what to do. And our awesome football coach (Everyone hustles in soccer including the coaches, THIS ISN'T FOOTBALL) is not doing anything to help the girls get into position. Frankly there is no communication whatsoever. This is all about learning positions and rules. Sport teams are all about organization and teamwork. I am seeing none of this.

I get it. It is supposed to be fun, but come on. There has to be some kind of skill building here. I think our team was so confused they didn’t know which way to go on the field. Even with being pissed, I still cheered on loyally for our team. A few times I had to walk away to cool off, but I behaved the rest of the game.

I am not even sure it’s a good idea for me to show up to the rest of the games, but I will risk it for my daughter.

Well, this probably just marked me as the bitchy mom around school. Oh well. This is only the tip of the iceberg. Child #2 and #3 will be joining in the spring.

Baseball vs. Football

So we take all three girls to baseball game. We do the whole nine yards, tailgating and cracker jacks. We get to our seats. The game starts. We’re at the bottom of the first inning, up to bat and Bernie Brewer goes down his slide. This holds the girls attention for awhile waiting for him to go down the slide again (Bernie goes down the slide every time we hit a home run).

We’re into the second inning, when Child #3 asks, “When are the players going to start tackling each other?”

I respond, “This is baseball, sweetie, the players don’t tackle.”

Child #3 complains, “Awww, Mom, I want them to tackle each other.”

The only thing I can say without laughing is, “The tackling game is football not baseball.”

“But I still want them to tackle each other.”

What can I say?

Have you ever played…

…how long can you go without buying groceries?

Go ahead raise your hand. I won’t tell.

Well, I have. Occasionally, life gets in the way of going to the grocery store.

On a regular schedule, I go to the grocery store about every 7 days. I prefer to go on the weekends even though I hate wasting my spare time grocery shopping. Otherwise, I am stuck going during the week, which I only have a small window to actually get to the store (usually during my lunch hour or after dinner).

Anyway, I haven’t been to the store in about 14 days now. Things are pretty slim in the good old refrigerator. We do end up eating out more, but it is kind of fun to see what we can come up with for dinner.

Ants on a log with crackers works. You have your vegetable (celery), fruit (raisins), grain (crackers) and protein (peanut butter combined with milk is a complete protein). Viola, you have a complete meal.

Where did the fun go?

As a kid, I really liked roller coasters, rock climbing, climbing mountains, hiking trails, mountain biking, camping, anything adventurous. You know what I’m talking about when you were young and stupid. You thought you were invincible. I loved anything that gave you that adrenaline rush. In fact, I sought it out. Well maybe that wasn’t exactly true. It was more like if someone challenged me.

Anyhow, the tickle you use to get in your stomach on carnival rides when you were a kid doesn't exactly mean the same thing as an adult. The view of the ground at the top of the Ferris Wheel at the local festival was quite scary when you have two of your children sitting next to you and your husband has the other one in a different seat. All the worst images that you could think of started to float through my mind. The bucket we were in would break and we would all fall to our death. The wheel comes unattached and we fall to our death. The wheel stops and we are stuck at the top for hours. Then the “What ifs” start. Okay so maybe I am being a little dramatic, but I couldn’t help myself. I don’t just have myself to worry about anymore. I have three little lives that I have to protect and worry about.

Basically, the Ferris Wheel wasn’t as fun as it was when I was a kid. However, my kids did enjoy themselves greatly, which in turn made me happy.

New Washer and Dryer

Finally, I have my new washer and dryer. Yay me! It is amazing how it only takes one cycle to dry one load.

"Bowling"

Warning: Mom, Dad, you might want to skip this one.

The typical bedtime routine was upon us. The girls were tucked into bed, still up, but winding down for the night. We had even gone through the routine, "I'm thirsty, I need a drink" and "I have to go potty" for the hundredth time.

Since we don’t have a lot of time for extra curricular activities, we have to be a little creative. So we decided to go down stairs for a little "bowling activity." We have always been able to finish a game without getting caught...until last night, that is.

We were on the last frame when the pitter-patter of running feet was heard above us and then down the basement steps.

Child #1 says, "Mom, Dad, Child #2 hurt her eye."

I yell before they reach the basement, “Please go back upstairs girls.” As we scramble to hide the "bowling" evidence.

Child #1 appears in the doorway and says, "Why are you guys wearing towels?" Shocking, they didn’t listen.

Trying to hold a straight face, I reply nonchalantly, “Because we were trying on Halloween costumes, now please go upstairs.”

Child #1 and Child #3 look at us strangely and say in unison, "Oh." And run back upstairs. Great now I have to go buy Halloween costumes for us.

I return upstairs to check on Child #2. She is fine.

Child #1 asks, "Were you wearing underwear?"

I respond, "Well of course I was, silly."

So maybe "bowling" in the basement wasn’t such a great idea.

BUELLER? BUELLER? BUELLER? ANYONE? ANYONE?

Since the dryer does a vibrating dance across the basement floor and has included a high pitched squeaking noise (which you can hear all over the house, upstairs) rejecting my persistent demand for usage. We finally have agreed to purchase a washer and dryer (so maybe it was me making the decision, neither here nor there).

For our first stop, we decide to head to Home Depot to check out prices. Of course, we have the three in tow, which will make the adventure even more challenging.

We get to the appliance section of the store and start looking around. For about fifteen minutes, we are comparing prices on the models that we are interested in meanwhile the girls are running and goofing around (being silly as usual) opening up every appliance they can open.

It occurs to me there are absolutely no employees anywhere. You think we would have at least maybe seen one employee walking around or on the computer or even working with another customer, but no, nada. Then I think, maybe I need to get my kids under control and then we can be more approachable.

Drill sergeant mom appears and lines the kids up against a wall and threatens if they move, make a sound or whine they will lose out on the bike ride later this afternoon. We continue on, looking at the higher end models and still no sales person.

This is starting to piss James off of course, so he says “HELL-OOOO! ANYONE THERE?” He was kind of loud and I started quietly laughing.

No response.

“I GUESS WE’LL BE GOING TO SEARS THEN!”

Still, no response.

As we are leaving the appliance area, some lady comes running after us to tell us that the appliance employee is back in the warehouse and will be out in just a minute (what on a 20 minute smoke break? Then get some freakin’ back up).

Then the manager intersects us before we leave as well.

She asks, “Can I help you?” while talking into her walkie-talkie.” (Yeah, don’t let us interrupt your very important job with soooo many customers in the store).

I understand the economy is a little slow, but come on.

I reply, “We were interested in purchasing a washer and dryer, but we have three small children and they just can’t wait around anymore.”

No response.

And we make our exit.

The Thankless Job

It’s nine o’clock. I turned out the light in the girls’ bedroom. Child #2 didn’t want to go to sleep just yet.

“I said no you have to go to bed now. It is way past your bedtime.”

She got out of her bed and was going to turn the light back on.

I told her, “If you turn it back on, I will take back all the shoes I just bought you.”

I leave the room, but still can hear her.

Child #2 says, “You are the meanest mommy ever. I am going to call you step mom. I don’t like you meanie. You are the meanest step mom ever. You’re mean, your meanie mom, you’re mean mom.”

Silence.

Child #2 continues, ”Mom, why are you not listening to me. MOM! Why are you not listening to me. I know you can hear me. You’re mean mom. I know you are ignoring me. You are so mean. You are laughing at me mommy. I know you are laughing. Fine I am going to ignore you mom. I am ignoring you mom. You’re mean mom.”

Silence. I continue ignoring her.

I know you can here me mom. You’re mean mom. You’re laughing. You’re making me fun of me.

I say, “Child #2, I am not laughing at you and I never make fun of you.”

“Yes you are. You’re laughing in your head at me.” Okay so she got me there.

You’re mean, mom. You’re mean, mom. You’re mean mom…

Silence. She fell asleep.

Rationality went out the Window

This is what happens to your rationality when you become a parent.

The clock turns five o’clock. I reach my car in the parking lot. The phone rings.

“Was it Child #2’s friend’s birthday today?”

“I didn’t think so. I thought I was supposed to RSVP by today.”

“She is saying all her friends are going to be at the party.”

“Okay. Then go and I will stop at the store to pick something up for a gift.”

I go to the store pick up a gift. While driving, I am trying to stuff the gift in a bag and add tissue around it. I stop at a round about intersection (Yes, Liz, those dam round abouts again). I thought the guy in front of me was going to go, but of course he doesn’t so I bumped into him by accident (don’t worry, mom, I am okay, no one was hurt). I wasn’t even going 5 miles an hour. Anyway, all I am thinking is I don’t have time for this. I have to get to this birthday before it is over (again this is where all rationality leaves).

He pulls over and I follow him. I grab a pen and paper before I jump out of my vehicle. I tell the guy. I don’t have time for this. Here is my name and number. Call me with the estimate and we will work it out. I give him my license plate number as well. He basically says okay. And I take off.

There wasn’t any damage really. He had a pin-hole dimple in his bumper and no damage to my vehicle. No big deal. Right?

So I get to the party and tell James what happened. He asks me if the guy got into his car when you left. I said he was just looking at his bumper, but he was heading towards the truck door.

James says, “If he calls the police, that could be considered a hit and run.” Great, now I am going to be arrested.

The excitement never ends.

Musical beds

Last night, I put the kids to bed and went downstairs to use the treadmill. After my wonderful (come on, do you really believe that?) workout, I came up stairs to find my lovely three children sleeping all together on the floor in the playroom. Child #1 was actually sleeping and #2 and #3 were fake sleeping. I told the two to go back to their beds, which they did and fell asleep immediately.

All was good when I went to sleep.

After a few blissful minutes of sleep, Child #3 wiggled her way into my bed. When Dad came to bed, he moved Child #3 back to her bed. Not even five minutes later, Child #2 began to talk in her sleep and woke herself up. I heard the feet hit the floor and she was in the middle of our bed in no time.

About a half an hour later, Child #3 was up again calling for me. I go into the bedroom and she is sitting up yelling that there is a tiger-dragon on the floor so I lay down with her to try to get her to go back to sleep. Meantime I notice Child #1 is sleeping in her bed. With all the commotion of the other two, I didn’t even hear her get up. Anyway, I tell Child #3 that I will slay the tiger-dragon and be rid of him for good. She falls back asleep.

I go back to my bed.

This didn’t work because fifteen minutes later she is at my bed side telling me that the tiger-dragon was really scary. At this point I just want to SLEEP! Child #2 has fallen asleep so I move her back to her bed and let Child #3 climb back into my bed.

Dad leaves around 5:00am in the morning so when I woke up at 6:30am I find Child #1 and Child #3 sleeping next to me. I can’t win.

I really can’t figure it out because they usually only have bad nightmares when they eat bad food like McDonalds. We ate dinner at home and I made my burritos that they never have a problem with. Maybe it was something they ate at daycare. Oh well, it makes for a funny story later because I am not laughing now. I am really cranky.

What do tents, rain and mud have in common?

When combined, they suck!

So we planned a camping trip to Devils Lake this weekend with the kids, my brother-in-law and sister-in law and my nephews. We knew it would rain Friday night, but Saturday it was supposed to clear up and be 90º so we head up anyway. Our site was in a heavily wooded area so the rain wasn’t too bad. We were even able to get a fire going to cook hotdogs for dinner. Yeah, the ground was muddy, but the kids were having fun, dancing in the rain and sitting by the fire.

When it was time to put the kids to bed, we all climbed into the tent. Luckily we did because it just started down pouring, lightning and thunder, the whole nine yards. We were making light of the situations so the girls were laughing and giggling and having a good time.

Meantime the wind picked up and the rain came down harder. At this point the girls were sleeping.

All of a sudden, James said, “Awww! Come on!”

I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“I just got a bath.”

I say, “Really, what are you talking about?”

“A rain drop hit me in the face.”

“Are you kidding?”

“No!”

Then I pull the sleeping bag down and boom. I get smacked on the forehead. Every time one of us got hit by a rain drop, I started giggling. I couldn’t help myself. It was funny. We were laughing for quite awhile. Then we finally pulled the sleeping bag over our heads and went to sleep.

The rain didn’t stop until 11:00am the next morning. And it definitely wasn't 90º outside. Our tent was soaked along with everything inside the tent. We let the girls play in the rain while we took the tent down and packed up our stuff. Everything was extremely muddy too.

It did clear up and we took the kids down to the lake and walked the side trail next to the lake and fished a little too. But we headed back for home. I was going to take the girls swimming at our lake when we got home to make up for leaving early.

My sister-in-law, brother-in-law and nephews stayed, but they had brought an extra tarp to put over the top of their tent so their tent was dry inside. Lucky them:)

But they did get a few unwelcome visitors on Saturday night who ate all the food in the coolers. Does The Great Outdoors sound familiar? And it did rain again on Saturday night.

I think we just might go get a camper for next camping season.

To all the Honda Odyssey lovers…

To all you Honda Odyssey Minivan fanatics out there, this car absolutely, totally and utterly SUCKS!

With that being said, I feel much better now. Over the years, I can’t even count how many times people have told me that the Honda Odyssey is the safest and best Minivan on the market. My reply is it might be the safest Minivan, but it is not the safest vehicle on the market. I don’t think Minivans are safe at all (purely my opinion, can you tell I don’t like minivans?). There are so many other vehicles that are safer. I don’t have the list of safest vehicles out there, but if you can prove me wrong, I challenge you to do so.

I can tell you that my experience in the Honda Odyssey was a far cry from feeling safe in (I understand that it was a rental, but the car should be safe across the board whether you have leather seats or any of the extras in the car or not). As most foreign cars feel to me, I truly felt like I was driving a tin can. In addition every time I would break, something funky would happen with the steering wheel. It felt like the steering was locking (very strange). Plus the radio seek buttons were practically on the passenger side of the vehicle. Not safe to be leaning that far over and changing radio stations. I swear people couldn’t see the van when they were changing lanes (I drive very safe when I am in another state. It wasn’t me!). The driver’s seat was extremely uncomfortable, no lumbar support and the head rest was angled funny.

Now that I got that off my chest, I am happy to be back driving my gas guzzling four-wheel drive SUV. Have a nice day!

Monday...

The dark dim light in the sky that was revealed when the cool breeze lightly bumped the blinds against the window made me feel the urge to play hooky from work this morning. I felt warm under my blankets and didn’t want to move. I could hear the leaves slapping against each other sounding like a light drizzle relaxing me back to sleep. The devil on my left shoulder implored for me to stay in bed while the angel on my right shoulder encouraged me to get up. There is always a need for a vacation after a vacation, but today was not my lucky day.

Anyway we took the girls on their first airplane ride over the weekend. They have now experienced flying in an airplane and I have identified the optimal age for a child traveling.

Would you like to know?

Read on to find the answer.

I bought these really cute purple suitcases that they would be able to pull through the airport themselves (carry-ons so we wouldn’t have to pay the extra fee for each piece of luggage) and grandma bought matching pink backpacks to put all their activities in. We had to check the car seats (by the way, if you didn’t know already car seats are free to check on the airplane) and one suitcase for us.

Yes we noticed all the people staring thinking how cute the three little girls pulling purple suitcases and carrying pink backpacks through the airport was. This didn’t last very long. The pink backpacks gravitated to Dad. Then one purple suitcase ended up in my hand and the other ended up in Dad’s hand. Everyone was still thinking the girls were cute, but Dad was getting sympathy looks for carrying the backpacks and suitcases. So that leaves one purple suitcase. Can you guess which child actually pulled her suitcase through the whole trip?

This leads to the answer to the question. Six years old is the optimal age for a child to travel. Child #1 was definitely the trooper through all the airport trips.

Overall, the girls were great through the trip. They did well in the plane, swam in the ocean for the first time and had a blast with their cousin.

I'm surprised. It only took 3 months...

Wow! I completely under estimated Child #1. Exactly three months ago (April 26 Entry), Child #1 wanted her own room. Well recently, she has been singing a different tune. She’s been sneaking into her sisters’ room to sleep. When I caught her doing this, I asked her what she was doing and she replied she was scared and didn't want to sleep by herself anymore. I asked if she wanted her bed moved back into their room. She hesitated, but then confirmed by saying yes. She won’t tell me why she is scared, but I think her over active imagination is getting the best of her. Who can blame her? I remember being scared in the middle of the night occasionally when I was a kid too. So we moved her back in and we are back to the crazy slumber party level at bedtime. I’m not so sure this was the best thing to do. We may have to remove Child #3 instead. She tends to be the clown of the bunch and instigates the silliness.

Ignorance is Bliss…Sometimes

I try to reduce as much chemicals as possible by reading labels, mainly to benefit my kids health (I’m not saying I am perfect. Occasionally, I still eat Red #40 injected licorice and other things that are bad for me-and yes I allow my kids to as well just not all the time). Just to show you how effective I am this little story will explain everything.

Dad walks into the grocery store with three beautiful daughters to buy hamburger and hotdog buns. Dad picks out the buns and then walks down the snack/treat isle.

Dad says you can pick out anything you want. A woman was in the same isle picking out her snacks. Daughter #2 picks a big box of brownies.

Daughter #1 says “We can’t eat those, we have to eat these. They are healthier.” Daughter #1 picked out a box of granola bars to show her sisters.

The woman couldn’t believe what she was witnessing and says “How did you do that?”

Dad replies, “That is ALL her mother.”

Okay so I am a little crazy about dyes and a few other specific things, which I share with my children routinely. What? Knowledge is power. Who says it’s a bad thing? Right? This way they will be armed with all the knowledge they need to make right choices when their mother isn’t around, hence the story.

Recently, I have been getting an over abundance of unwelcome flakes on my head. Yes dandruff. And this wasn’t just a few flakes. It was like a winter storm when I ran my fingers through my hair. I couldn’t figure it out. At first, I thought maybe I had sun burned my scalp when we were out on the lake one weekend, but after a few weeks I ruled out sun burn.

So I thought maybe it was my shampoo. I changed to a new dandruff kind of shampoo. Nope that didn’t help. Of course, I start talking to my friend (thanks friend, you know who you are) about my situation. She suggested not to use a certain kind of hair style product (which I was using- Garnier Fructis) because it seemed to cause her to have an overabundance of flakes and caused an itchy scalp..

Thus as an advent label reader, how did I miss the label on the can of mousse I have been using for the last few months? I don’t use hair products everyday and since it wasn’t being directly applied on my skin or ingested I didn’t think it was necessary to read. I was wrong. But have you read a Mousse label lately?

AQUA/WATER, ISOBUTANE, PROPYLENE GLYCOL, ACRYLATES COPOLYMER, PROPANE, PHENOXYETHANOL, TRIACETIN, AMINOMETHLYL PROPANOL, POLYQUATERNIUM-4, PEG-4O HYDROGENATED CASTER OIL, METHYLPARABEN, PARFUM/FRAGRANCE,AMODIMTHICONE, POLYSORBATE 20, LINALOOL, PEG 192 APRICOT KERNEL GLYCERIDES, PEG-70 MANGO GLYCERIDES, TRIDECETH-12, LIMONENE, AMYL CINNAMAL, CERTRIMONIUM CHLORIDE, CITRUS LIMONUM/LEMON EXTRACT.


Holy Shit! Propane. Propane is used to heat some people’s houses or start a camping stove. Why the hell am I putting propane in my hair? I’m not even sure if I spelled everything correctly, but really doesn’t that look like a formula to a bomb?

I know, it’s just what you wanted to hear, another one of my theories. I figure since it was summer and we’ve been out in the sun lately, the sun probably reacted to several of these ingredients causing my scalp to get irritated and distressed, therefore causing an overabundance of flaking. After two days of not using the Mouse and several conditioning products, the excessive flaking ceased.

Anyway I go to Target to see what other brands I can buy that might not make my head start on fire if I get close to a flame. I am definitely switching to gel, but nothing at Target had any ingredients that I wanted to put in my hair.

I actually had to go to ULTA (a beauty specialty store) to find a less harsh product that didn’t have ingredients I couldn’t pronounce. Quite a bit more on the pocket book, but the alternative is to walk around with a really frizzy head. I haven’t tried it yet, but I will let you know how things go.

A little game of Telephone

If most people knew about this blog then maybe my family and I wouldn’t be such a mystery to figure out in this crazy town I live in. I assume every town has the same type of people, but apparently when you enter the school system as a parent it is a whole different ball game then when you were a kid.

I call it a small, big town that I live in. It seems like everyone is at the third degree of separation level and even closer sometimes, which may be true for most towns if you live long enough in one place. Considering I moved several times during my childhood, I never developed this closeness within a community or maybe I was just too young to be that aware of others.

Interesting enough I have been observing how parents interact over the last year. I have discovered that there are several different types of moms. The mom that I will be referring to is the (I had a little help from a friend with the name) crazy PTO mom. This mom will ask you what you had for breakfast last week Monday. No question is off limits.

I have no problems answering questions or even having my friends answering questions for me. Where the problem lies is not really with all the conversation going on first hand it’s the after hand. With so many questions, I start to wonder where all this information will be going. You got it, out to all the other crazy PTO moms. Because if she is telling you about other families (mostly innocent information about which kid does which activity), you know your family is going to be brought up in a future conversation with someone else.

People are always going to talk otherwise there wouldn’t be so many celebrity gossip magazines. The jury is still out on how I feel about all this. Not that I have any skeletons in my closet or really care what people think about me, but it almost seems creepy when people you don’t know, know more about you than you have told them.

Or maybe I am just paranoid and totally off on all this. It might be a long haul for me since I still have two more kids to integrate into the school system. I am sure you will all be dying to know which path I take in the future. I will keep you posted.

Triathlon Times

Apparently, writing things down doesn't actually hold me accountable to myself. Okay so the last ten pounds didn’t come off before my triathlon, but I still dropped eleven minutes off my overall time from last year. Consequently, this gives me a new goal for next year to drop the same excruciating ten pounds. Of course procrastination runs in the family, which will probably lead to trying to drop ten pounds again two months before the race. What a vicious cycle I live in.

Anyway my official time is listed below:

Distance Short
Clock Time 01:23:57
Overall Place 165 / 2544
Division Place 18 / 258
Swim 00:13:10
Swimrank 105
Trans1 00:04:16
Bike 00:39:35
Bikerank 470
Mph 18.1
Trans2 00:01:31
Runrank 220
Run 00:25:24
Pace 00:08:11

Even though, I did better on my time I totally slacked in the swimming. I did better last year in the swim, but my bike and run improved. Maybe next year I will actually train for the swim part (nah, not training always makes it more interesting). I really need to carve out some time (Where did that 27 hour/day pill go? I know it was in my pocket somewhere).

James brought the girls so they could cheer on their mommy for a whole three seconds, but at least they got to see what the race was about. My parents came too, but they missed me on all three transitions. Oh well, there is always next year.

PS. These times are based on 1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike and 3.1 mile run just in case you were wondering.

Internal Pressure

Three must be the magical age to eliminate internal pressure.

Now according to www.yourdictionary.com

Internal means of or having to do with the inside, and

Pressure means a compelling influence, constraining force, demands requiring immediate attention; urgency

Essentially, I coined the phrase internal pressure for when you are away from your children and you feel this urgency to get back to them. Whether you are making a Target or grocery store run, you try to complete the task as quickly as possible just to get back to them (and it always pisses you off when you forget something you really needed because you were rushing). Usually you try to do these tasks when you need a break, but then you find yourself feeling guilty for not spending every waking moment with them when you are not at work.

I would find myself rushing home when I knew my husband had everything under control. Even when I was two minutes late for picking the kids up, I would internally beat myself up. This internal force sucks you into thinking your children need every second of your time especially when they are babies (obviously this is something us moms do to ourselves).

Since my youngest has turned three, I am actually enjoying my twenty minute ride home now, listening to music and not worrying so much (it is actually 25 minutes now because of Racine Ave being shut down, dam construction). I don’t rush in the grocery store or at Target anymore, although I end up taking one of the kids with me, usually the one who has been the best behaved for the day, the reward for good behavior (it always amazes me on how the behavior of one child is so much different than the behavior of three children together).

It probably has to do with my kids getting older and not needing me as much, but I do feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Because is that two minutes ever really going to matter in the grand scheme of things? It has only taken me six years to figure this out.

Everyone can tell you how hard it is going to raise children, but you never really grasp the level of difficulty until you experience it for yourself.

Role Reversal

I have always been a 50/50 kind of gal, Equality for the masses, Women’s Rights. Hell I even brokered a deal with my husband (before he was my husband) if we were going to have children I wasn’t going to be a married woman raising children on my own. I made it very clear this would be a deal breaker for me so I took my snide self to the alter and got married.

Two years later, we had our first beautiful baby girl. Yeah, all that equality shit was thrown out the window, which I gladly accepted because I was dealing with a helpless little precious human being that was mine and needed me. During the baby years, the equality fell into more like 70/30 and currently pulled into 60/40 (I still do all the mornings by myself).

As the years went by, we fell into a pattern, certain chores fell under me because I was the woman and certain chores fell under him because he was the man. You know laundry was mine and the lawn/snow was his (very Little House on the Prairie-like, don’t ya think).

Anyway recently there has been some complaining about physically working all day and then having to come home to cut the lawn, of course, I keep my big mouth shut and don’t list all the things I have to do physically and mentally during the day for the children, work and the household (you can choose to believe that or not depending on how well you know me).

A few weeks ago, after several days of thought, I started mowing the lawn, which takes approximately about an hour to an hour and half depending on how much stuff I have to move around (see I do have some compassion). Yesterday would be the third straight week in a row I have mowed the lawn. After being bit several times by more mosquitoes and feeling pretty sweating and gross, I was ready to take a shower. I head into the house. To my surprise, the whole house was cleaned miraculously. James had cleaned the whole kitchen, vacuumed and got the girls to even pick up their bedrooms.

So I was thinking I really like this role reversal, it’s kind of nice being outside by myself while someone else takes care of the kids and cleans the house even if I am physically pushing the lawn mower. I have to take what I can get because it will never be equal. Why? Because I am the mom. Now I just have to figure out how to fix cars so I don't have to clean bathrooms anymore.

Mosquitoes vs. Humans

We had a lovely 4th of July weekend, but (there is always a but) the mosquitoes were absolutely horrible. So this makes for an interesting decision because I really hate bug spray. I hate spraying chemicals on my children and myself along with smelling like stomach acid (okay so maybe that was uncalled for but it’s true).

Since the weather was the coolest it has ever been since I moved here (that is for the 4th), I made the girls dress in long pants and sweat shirts to watch the fireworks, hoping I wouldn’t have to use the bug spray.

No such luck. Of course, Child #1 wants to wear Capri pants and not long pants, but she does put on a long sleeve dress. I did spray her ankles when the mosquitoes started to bother her. The other two were fine until the mosquitoes got so bad they attacked your face. Thankfully someone had the wipes with bug repellent, but Child #3 refused to allow me to put it on her face.

Once I felt everyone was covered, I sat down. Big mistake. When I sat down, a small part of my skin was exposed between my tennis shoes and my jeans, I should have worn socks. I forgot to mention that mosquitoes are extremely attracted to me, as my dad refers to it as sweet blood. Then my hands started to itch. I had gotten three mosquito bites in a matter of minutes on my hands. Apparently mosquitoes can get you through your jeans too, the upper part of my thigh, the point where the chair and your covered skin meet, I received several attacks.

By the time the fireworks were over, I was itching everywhere. This wasn’t even the worst of it. When we woke up the next morning, Child#3 had about 15 mosquito bites all over her face. Next time I will have to wrestle her to the ground and wipe the bug repellent on her face. I didn’t think it would be that bad. Oh well, another check for the bad mother side.

AHHHHHHGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!

I haven’t written in awhile because I have been racking my brain with this entry. I wasn’t sure if I should approach this subject or not. I am getting up on my soap box. Leave now if you don’t want to read further. You were warned.

Most of you know that my husband had his appendix taken out back in March (if you didn’t, now you do). I have to explain the time line because it is relevant so bear with me.

Thursday-All day and night
Persistent stomach Pain

Friday-
8:00am – 1:00 pm-Huge fight over whether or not he should go to the doctors or not. I win.
2:00pm- He sees the doctor at the walk in clinic (I was unable to get an appt at his regular doctors office).
3:00pm-The doctor at the walk in clinic sends him to the emergency room.
4:00pm-I pick up the kids and bring them to the hospital. Spoke to the surgeon. They schedule him for surgery
5:00pm-I take kids back home for dinner
9:00pm-I go back to the hospital (kids are in bed)
10:00pm-He is drugged up and ready for surgery.
11:00pm-He goes into surgery.
11:30pm-The doctor comes out and says everything is fine.
11:45pm-He is back in his room still drugged up. I go home.

Saturday-
8:00am-He is up and wants to go home. He’s hungry and wants to eat.
9:00am-As soon as the doctor comes in he can be checked out.
11:00am-I take the kids with me to the hospital to pick him up (I was watching my nephews too so I had five kids with me).

So in the matter of less than 24 hours, his appendix has been taken care of.

Now onto the medical bills, this is where everything turns for the worst. For weeks, I anxiously await the bills to be delivered. No bills yet. Still waiting.

After about a month, we received a few statements from our medical insurance. The first one not too bad, the second one not too bad, but the third one I open up…I know the suspense is killing you…my mouth drops open and a few impolite words escape (no children were around).

Remember he was there less than 24 hours and as you recall from the schedule he didn’t go into surgery until 11:00pm. Can you guess how much the bill was just for the facility?

A little over $25,000. HE WAS ADMITTED AROUND 9:00PM AND LEFT 11:00AM THE NEXT MORNING. This is double the cost of one of my pregnancies when I stayed for two full days. This doesn’t even include the emergency room costs or the walk in clinic costs or the surgeon who performed the surgery. By this time, I am so pissed off. I call my husband yelling about how the medical industry is such a scam and we are being robbed legally.

After I calm down, I begin to think rationally (at least rationally for me). I put together a plan. I look up all the phone numbers for all the hospitals in the Milwaukee/Waukesha area. I call everyone to get an estimate just on the facility costs of this type of surgery. Then I call the hospital to get an itemized list.

So the hospitals that actually called me back are as follows:

Waukesha Memorial $16K
Columbia St Marys $18K

So where did West Allis Memorial come up with their number? It is still a mystery to me. I have yet to actually pay a bill, but I will let you know if my complaining helps reduce any of them. It is a full time job to tackle the medical industry.

Are smoothies really worth the trouble?

Some days when I think I have enough time I try to overcompensate for not being a better mother by making the perfect breakfast in the morning. Of course, my children don’t actually appreciate it (most of the time they complain about something), but I continue to do it anyway (because I’m the mom and I think I know what’s best).

On to preparing the yummy smoothie they like. I equally pour the smoothie into the same size cups (so there will be no complaining about which cup they get). And I even give each a straw (what a nice mom I am). Now onto making the toast (whole grain, high fiber bread sprinkled lightly with a cinnamon/sugar mixture, otherwise they won’t eat the wheat bread). As I busy myself with the toast, the dreadful silence befalls followed by the slap of a cup hitting the floor.

At this point in the morning, I was actually on time for work. Everyone was dressed and packed for school. We just had to eat, brush our teeth and get out the door. No matter how early I wake up on a Monday, something always seems to throw me off my schedule.

The problem wasn’t actually the spillage of smoothie all over my floor. It was the bounce factor when the smoothie hit the floor. The projecting liquid splattered all over the back of my nicely pressed pants. Not just a few drops like when you step in a rain puddle, but more like when a car drives through a puddle and the water splatters all over your back. This pretty much tipped the scale and I had a melt down.

But all is good because the same child spilled her full glass of milk at dinner. Who’s idea was it to get them off of sippy cups? On the bright side, I already have half the floor mopped.

Is Mom more likely to panic or Dad?

Well we had a fun filled weekend with activity galore by Saturday night. We took all three girls fishing with us on Friday evening. They did really well considering we usually only last one hour with them in the boat. This time we made it two hours and they weren’t even complaining.

Then on Saturday, we had two birthday parties. One at Fun World in the morning and our neighbor had a bouncy house for her birthday next door in the afternoon. So by 6:00pm, the girls were done. We went in the house to watch a movie and go to sleep by 7:00pm. The whole family piled on our bed to watch a movie and relax. James and I fell asleep (we were tired too) only to be awaken by Child #2 screaming “My eye, my eye. It burns.” We both jump up, similar to bouncing on your butt on a trampoline and coming to a standing position. I ran to Child #2 to ask what happened and James disappears to who knows where. She won’t tell me what happened so I quickly assess the situation. She had come out of the bathroom so I went into the bathroom and found her daddy’s cologne bottle lying on the counter (I just bought it. It was an advanced Father’s day gift). Great, she must have sprayed her eye with it. I lift her on the counter and start dousing her eye with water to flush the cologne out.

James comes in yelling, “Don’t use water.” He has the phone in his hand dialing someone’s number.

I calmly ask, “Why not?” As I continue to put water on her eye.

“I’m calling poison control. We should wait to see what they say.”

Of course, I think he is joking, right and say, “Are you serious?” In the meantime, Child #2 says her eye still hurts so I take all her clothes off and put her in the shower. After a few seconds, she says her eye feels better.

“Yes. You don’t know if you should use water to flush it out.” At this point I see that he is serious and is a little panicked.

With my sarcastic tone, “Where are you from? What substance wouldn’t require water to flush out of the eyes?”

He simply replies, “gasoline.”

It is hard to hide my chuckle at this point. “Do we have any gasoline in the house?” That pretty much ended our conversation.

Anyway, Child #2 is okay. We did the eye test and she still can see. We are pretty sure she learned her lesson. Obviously she was trying to smell nice like daddy. Lesson learned here is that anything new coming into the house has to be discussed even if it is only hazardous at a small level.

Brown Slacks

So my friend and I went to Boston Store during our lunch hour for a big sale. My goal was to purchase three carry-on luggage pieces for each one of my children for our trip in July to visit my brother and his family in Maryland. This will be their first airplane ride so the girls are all very excited (the luggage is purple too so they will be even more excited). I might not actually be able to show them the luggage until a few days before we leave due to the factor of no concept of time.

Anyway, you know when you have two characters walking side by side in a comedy movie. One is talking and the other one is listening and all of a sudden the one listening disappears from the screen. Well that was me when I was trying to find my keys in my purse and I didn’t realize the curb was so close. Down I went (it’s brutal shopping for bargains). Of course, I was okay, a little embarrassed, but okay. I was more bummed about my favorite brown slacks. They have two skinned knees on them. Hopefully, no one will notice at work. Now I know where Child #3 gets her clumsiness from. Apparently it’s from me.

Enjoy Your Boredom!

I don’t know who said this, but this is my favorite quote, “Enjoy your boredom now because once you have kids bored doesn’t exist.”

Pre-children, I spent the weekends cleaning my house, loafing around, watching movies, reading an occasional book going out when I felt like it-the blissful years of no pressure.

Why is it when you are given the chance to relax the time flies by so quickly it doesn’t even feel like you got the chance to relax?

Post-children, you hardly get a moment to yourself to even think. It is so hard to slow down when you have been going 100mph, but once you do you want more. Then you feel a temper tantrum coming on when you don’t get more time. Very similar to how kids are when you give them some candy or a little freedom and then they don’t just want a little more they want the world. What is up with human nature? We are one messed up species.

Cliche that comes to mind:
You want what you can’t have.

Thirty-Two is just a number

So I turned 32. I have never really felt my birthday was that important anyway. When I was younger, it seemed most people weren’t able to make a birthday shadowing Memorial Day weekend because other obligations like vacations and family celebrations were happening. So when I would have a birthday party, it was always on the weekend before or after Memorial Day weekend. As a kid, you realize, if you can switch your birthday celebration to whichever weekend you want who cares when you celebrate it as long as you get the party. Right?

As I got older, I realized my birthday really is insignificant compared to what Memorial Day really stands for. All of the soldiers who have died for this country and all the veterans who still are living are beyond the scale of a single person’s birthday, turning 32. And not to forget all the soldiers overseas fighting a war that is not labeled a war, but truly by definition is a war. The year I was born, my birthday actually landed on Memorial Day so maybe I have a little compassion towards what the day truly represents.

Enough sentiment, this year it landed on a Saturday and not on Memorial Day weekend so it was all about me for my 32nd birthday, however my mind still feels 24 and my body definitely feels 32. At least it’s not like when I turned 30 and felt my youthful life was over, finished, buried six feet under. The five stages of grief come to mind.

Denial- You can’t be the cute fun drunk at the office party anymore. You are just perceived as the drunk of the party.

Anger-You despise any one who looks younger than you. Eyeing up other women who do look younger and secretly picking out every flaw in them. This might not be the most mature way to handle it, but at least no one gets hurt.

Bargaining-Would I ever consider plastic surgery?

Depression-Eating junk food doesn’t solve anything.

Acceptance- Minus all work related parties and functions from the calendar-children make great excuses. Embrace everyone for their differences. Maybe - ask me in the next decade. Stop dwelling on the past and get into shape and enjoy life now.

Of course, I didn’t experience any of these stages (I heard that chuckle). I am only referring to what I have observed from others (Yeah, right).

Besides, I am only 32. That is still young, right? (I can’t even be considered a cougar yet). I have fully embraced my age and the expectations of leading a mature decade (I heard that laugh too). Eight years is fairly long before I will have to worry about the next hurdle of maturity. Anyway I am enjoying life at 32 even with all the craziness involved.

Are we there yet?

"Are we there yet?" Child #2
"Oh heavens no, this is a very long trip. We explained that the car ride is very long and will take most of the day to get to the campground. It only has been an hour, sweetie. We should be there sometime in the afternoon."
Major whining starts. "Oh mom, I want to be there. Why can't we be there already? I want to go camping. I want to see Sasha and Kayla (my Aunt's dogs)." More whining. Deep breath from me.
15 minutes later.
"How much longer?" Child #2 has become the spokesperson for all kids in the back seat on a long car trip.
"A little bit." Shorter the answer the better even if it is slightly pushing the truth.
"Are we there yet?"
"We're almost there."
"How much longer?"
"A little bit."
"How many more little bits."
"Oh a few."
"Mooooooooommmmmmmmm! How much longer?"
"Possibly, four more little bits."
"Is that close?"
"Yes, very close."

Clear Cut or Natural?

Note to self: When you wake up and think “Oh I can wear Capri pants and not shave my legs. The hair is not too long. No one will notice.” Fight the need to listen to that voice.

It was going to be our first 80 degree day of the season so I pull out my Capri pants and lotion up my legs-a little stubble, but not too bad. Uh yeah, until you get out into the natural light (there is that evil natural light again see Time Crunch blog). Big big big big big mistake. A little stubble just turned into the Redwoods at Muir Woods. Apparently the lotion made the Redwoods lay down so I didn’t quite get the full view of the Forest until I stepped out for lunch. I so need a new light in the bathroom (see Handy Man blog). Oh well, I don’t think anyone noticed. And yes, I went home and clear cut the Forest.

Inconvenient

During the day, I find going number 1 is such a nuisance. Occasionally, it offers a break from the monotony, but most of the time I just find it down right irritating. When I am at work in the middle of a project or in the morning when I am trying to get the kids out the door, it is not convenient. It just doesn’t fit in the schedule of life. Just figuring out the math of the whole thing there is a lot of time wasted. If you go an average of six times a day, three minutes each time which turns into 4.5625 days in a year. You could go on a vacation with that extra time. See my point.

I know, just the topic you wanted to read about.

B12

Evidently, being a vegetarian isn’t in the cards for me and neither is being a doctor, but I enjoy learning about things so bear with my thought process.

Let me step back a few paces, my friend had brought up vitamin B12 at our last Girls Night Out dinner (she is taking a nutrition college course). Basically the statement that was made was "B12 is only available through eating read meat and eventually you will go insane if you don’t absorb some kind of B12 in your diet" (does this mean the vegetarians and vegans of the world are all insane).

So I venture online to learn more about B12. In a nut shell, B12 is created when a certain kind of animal eats their food and the food combines with a certain bacteria (the B12 can not be created without the bacteria) in the animal’s stomach (the scientific terminology is way too boring to repeat) and absorbs into the animals muscle. In conclusion, we eat the muscle of the animal (ex. Cow). The B12 absorption starts in our mouth and finishes out in our stomach. Now the kicker is that not everyone absorbs B12 the same. There are other factors involved that will prevent B12 absorption as well (too many to list).

B12 cannot be naturally reproduced in a vitamin so the science world has created a synthetic B12 compound for vitamins (again if you want the scientific terminology, look it up). The effects of B12 deficiency can cause permanent damage to the brain and nervous system (you can go insane). The main symptoms include fatigue, depression, poor memory loss basically anemia, but if the deficiency isn’t taken care of mania and psychosis can take over. So my friend was right, but the vegetarians and vegans of the world are not insane because there is a synthetic vitamin they can consume to complete their diet (I love learning new things).

Now you have the basis for my next thought, I pondered my unusual irritation level over the last week and a half. Everything was making me irritated, short tempered, irrational (similar level to PMS, but the timing was off). So I reflected on the amount of red meat I had been eating. I discovered that I wasn’t getting enough B12, which in return was creating my “high irritation symptoms.” I wasn’t attempting to become a vegetarian or anything, but the hubby’s work schedule has been a little crazy for the last couple of weeks and he usually cooks most of the red meat for our house hold. Therefore, I will never be able to become a vegetarian unless I would like the hubby to serve me papers.

Isn’t it great when friends can help you analyze yourself?

Still Got It!

After a five year hiatus from opening day of fishing, I can still catch the biggest fish in the boat (Okay so maybe it was a little bit of luck. It’s my fish story so I am entitled to embellish a little).

Of course, the hubby caught the most, although it was his birthday so I had to be nice to him (heehee). Granted, I didn’t catch the most, but the biggest is nothing to be modest about. We caught about three keepers and seven babies in about an hour. This is not bad for Large Mouth Bass on our lake. And this was even with three children in the boat. Two were eager to net and release the fish and one cranky not interested child (Can you guess which one?), but we had a blast anyway. It should be a fantastic summer.

5 Years Earlier than Expected

This is an end to an era. I wanted to believe that this would never happen, but my three lovely children sharing a bedroom together has ended (please excuse the weeping). My husband and I estimated about the ten year mark and not at five years old going on six. Who am I kidding, in my own little world I thought they would blissfully share a room until they were eighteen. There is a lot of great bonding that goes on between eight o’clock and eight-thirty every night.

It all started when Child #1 went to Kindergarten. Now, it has nothing to do with them getting along or fighting or anything you might think. My three children actually get along quite well (which is extremely adorable. I know, but I get to be bias). Don’t get me wrong, they do argue, fight, tattle, tease and make me extremely mad sometimes. But they actually play really nicely together, which out weighs the refereeing time.

In any case, the real reason comes down to sleep. Child #1 is so exhausted from her day she just wants to go to sleep (they don’t take naps in Kindergarten) while Child #2 and Child #3 (still taking naps during the day) are excited to chit chat (this entails giggling, laughing and sometimes teasing) for awhile before they fall asleep. Child #1 has been complaining about this for awhile now, but I have simply been giving her one excuse after another (okay so I’ve been dragging my feet, but I really wanted to make sure she wanted to move out). Well, her requests were becoming more persistent so this weekend was the weekend (she was so excited I couldn’t put it off anymore).

The move involved moving Child #1’s bed into another room and moving a dresser into Child #2 and Child #3’s room. A little switching of toys and shifting of additional furniture and viola the rooms are cleaned and separated.

So bed time comes and Child #1 happily goes into her new bedroom for some peace and quiet. It doesn’t quite hit the other two until they venture into their room and their big sister isn’t there. Child #2 freaks out. She starts to moan she wants her sister in the same room with her (by the sound of the moaning, you might have thought she had died). Then Child #3 catches on and starts to moan as well. I kiss them good night and leave the room. I thought a picket line was going to form. The chanting was quite good. “We want Child #1. We want Child #1. We Want Child #1.” They were even using her nickname they have given her recently so it was even cuter than expected. Okay so it sounded more like moaning cats on a picket fence than an actual protest, but they were definitely in sync.

We’ll see how tomorrow night turns out.

Unexpected Surprise

Trampolines. I love trampolines. I spent a lot of my childhood jumping on one. Interestingly enough my nephews received a trampoline for Christmas. How cool is that? Child #1 has been jumping on it all week after school and I promised the other two that they would get to jump on it on Friday.

So we venture on over to my nephews house for an exciting evening of trampoline jumping. I was actually kind of excited too. I haven’t jumped on one since…I truly can’t remember. Anyway, the kids are having a blast on it. Everyone gets to jump in twos since five kids can be a little much (the little ones get trampled easily). After everyone has had a turn I say “it’s my turn.” Child #1 wants to jump with me first so I get in and we start jumping. I am trying to show her the value of trying to catch air on a jump (these are things every kid must know how to do). Halfway through my expert tutelage an “Oh Shit” slips out of my mouth.

Apparently gravity is stronger than my bladder muscles, I quickly ran to the bathroom (thank heavens for panty liners). Evidently having three children does a number on your bladder control. Note to thy self: Jumping is worst that running with bladder control. Oh well, back to the Kegal exercises.

Battle of the 10 pound bulge continued…

So the 10 pounds are being more stubborn than ever. Or maybe it’s just in my mind. Or maybe it is the soda I have been drinking for dinner the last two nights because we are completely out of every alternative beverage choice in my house (grocery shopping didn’t fit into the schedule this week) and I can’t drink water for dinner (I consume so much water during the day I can’t stand it by dinner time).

I’m usually hungry throughout the day and into the night. At least tea will usually suppress my appetite during work hours (That is if you like tea. I think my husband refers to it as drinking hay), but during the night its pretty rough especially when I have put restrictions during the day. I think about food constantly. When I smell, see or imagine food, it’s like I hear the bell and my salivary glands start producing. Since the no eating after 7:00 pm rule still holds, I’m usually good until about 10:00 pm at night (I know I should be sleeping at 10:00, but I have so much to read I am usually up until 11:00 or midnight). When I find myself ravenous (similar to a bear coming out of hibernation), my mind drifts off to what I could eat and not feel guilty about. Breaking my tangent, I reestablish my focus continue without getting up and eating anything. Phew (swipe of the forehead), I made it through another night.

Book Suggestions

If anyone has ever been laid off, you have to read Bitter is the New Black by Jen Lancaster. Absolutely hilarious.

If anyone has ever tried to loose weight, you have to read Such a Pretty Fat or Why Pie is not the Answer by Jen Lancaster.

This is my kind of humor. I love sarcasm.

Bike Shorts

After taking out my brand new road bike last week, I came to the conclusion that I really need to buy a pair of bike shorts. Evidently, the seats on the road bikes aren’t very comfortable and the shocks that are on hybrid bikes are definitely there for a reason (I felt every crack and divot in the road and you know how Wisconsin roads fair after a rough winter, well my ass didn’t fair to well either), but I can really go fast on the road bike.

Of course, I digress. If you’re unfamiliar with what bike shorts are, let me explain, basically they are a pair of Lycra shorts with a pad in the, you know what. So I go to the store in search of these so called shorts. HOLY COW! Bike shorts are really expensive, $75 for a measly pair of shorts. Call the cops, its highway robbery. So I start shopping around, the best I could find was $60. At least my ass will be happy now. Yippy, I get to try them out on Saturday.

Battle of the 10 pound bulge

Why is the first 10 pound gain always the last 10 pounds to loose and the hardest? Kind of the opposite of LIFO (Sorry, inventory reference-If you don’t know what I’m talking about look it up…FIFO/LIFO).

After Child #3 was born, I was up about 35 pounds from my post marriage weight. Figuring I had three babies in three years, there wasn’t much time for myself let alone exercise. It took me a year and half to loose 25 pounds. You ask, how did I do that? I exercised four times a week (in my basement on my treadmill, I know extremely boring) and never ate after 7:00pm (except for my one night out a month when I party like a rock star). I basically stopped snacking at night. Apparently, your metabolism doesn’t like to be comforted at night.

Anyway, my last ten pounds and I have a special relationship. We have been together for a good five years. I am ready to move on, but every time I try to detach myself, it comes back. I loose a couple pounds and then I get lazy and they find their way home again. Now, I have to take some of the blame here, I haven’t exactly encouraged it to move on. On the other hand, I have maintained my current weight for the last year (pat myself on the back), but I would like to become a lean mean athletic machine for my triathlon this summer (did I mention I am a little competitive, I have to beat my time from last year).

My intentions are to try to loose 10 pounds before July. I would even be happy with 8 pounds. This is completely attainable if I buckle down so I decided I would start as I refer to it as “my food reduction project” this week. I do have to eat regularly or, well, let’s just say you don’t want to meet that personality. The game plan is to minimize portion size for lunch and dinner. Breakfast is not a problem. I never have enough time to eat a whole heck of a lot anyway.

This leads to problem number one. One of my personality flaws is whenever you tell me I can’t do something I tend to do it any way (maybe that’s why I wasn’t a good teenager). What do they call that? This doesn’t bode well with restricting food consumption either so my goal might be a long agonizing haul.

Basically I’m writing about this because if it is written down I actually have to follow through with it. Right?

Two Choices

My alarm clock is strategically placed across the room so I have to get up and turn it off. Plus I have it set really loud with a radio station that emphasizes heavy metal music. On most days, this seems to get my butt out of bed, but I hit snooze this morning and lay back down. In my half conscious, half unconscious state, I hear my youngest two giggling and moving around in their bedroom (great their up early). As I am drifting in and out, I am waiting for the alarm to go off again so I open one eye to view the clock and realize it is not 5:45 am, but 6:45 am. OH SHIT! I turned the alarm off rather than hitting snooze.

I have two choices here. I can go without make-up or go without doing my hair. It’s a given, the girls will be eating in the car (thank God for pop tarts and granola bars) and taking juice boxes to their morning destinations (just in case you were wondering whether or not I feed them in the morning).

Choice 1
Waking up with the hair I went to bed with is a pretty scary sight (trust me). I don’t do this too often (Okay you got me, I do but I usually pile it all top of my head. I am living on the edge leaving it down), but I knew it was raining out and the rain actually calms the frizz down. The curls get tighter and the frizz smoothes out. This is weird since most people have the opposite effect. If I straighten my hair (which never happens unless I am getting my hair styled at the salon), then I would have frizz everywhere. (I know it crossed your mind, so stop turning your nose up at me. Haven’t you ever heard you’re not supposed to take a shower every day? It’s bad for your skin and hair. Let your natural oils free!)

Choice 2
On the other hand, I literally hate make-up, but I have become addicted to the bareMinerals make-up line so I can’t bare (heehee) to go with out it. I don’t ware eye make-up just the powder. It is amazing how much better my skin looks. And it’s not cakey like most foundations. I think its one of those “I’m getting older so I need to do something” phases.

Anyway.

Which choice would you go with?

I went with wearing the make-up. I figure when I am at work I can put my hair up if it is really bad. Since it is not Halloween, I didn’t want to scare anyone.

Impeccable Driving Record

Since it is Spring Break this week, my phone companion is sleeping in while I still have to drive to work. No problem, I’m a flexible friend. Instead, I can catch up on my relationship with the radio. Considering I am a chronic channel surfer, my car allows me to channel surf safe and easy with the program controls on my steering wheel (just in case you all were wondering about my safety).

On a side note. For the past six years, every morning I have driven to work talking to my friend on my cell phone. I know you’re probably thinking “Oh how dangerous” or “that’s not too smart.” Get over it. It’s cheaper than paying a therapist. Besides the only accident I’ve been in the last ten years was a little fender bender. It was raining out. I thought the person in front of me was going to turn, but the light turned and she stopped and I slid into her at not even 10 mph. And no, I wasn’t talking on the phone. There wasn’t even any damage to her car. In conclusion, I’m a pretty safe driver. Others might disagree, but the record proves them wrong. Ha!

Back to my original train of thought this morning, I normally drive on automatic pilot since the scene is the same every day and I don’t pay any attention to the scenery on the side of the road. Except for the last few weeks, the road I travel to work is under construction and has been shut down. So I’ve been taking a detour to get to work.

For some reason enjoying the music and the new scenery is far more dangerous for me than driving while talking on the cell phone. I get distracted easily. So as I come around the bend to the left and absorb the warming spring air along with the new houses, fields, horse ranch and pretty hills for my viewing. It was like a picture except the road starts to straighten out in front of me. Just as I realize that I need to follow the solid yellow line, I have already crossed it.

With my quick reflexes, I pull myself back to my side the road, although I over compensate and slide off the pavement just grazing the dirt on the shoulder with two tires. During this split second of panic, I have seen myself hit the little blue Saturn that I made swerve out of the way for crossing the line in the first place and ricocheted back to my side of the road and roll my SUV four or five times down the hill (by now you’ve had to know my imagination gets away from me sometimes).

This is a perfectly good reason why I should stick to talking on my cell phone in the morning while driving to work. It’s a lot safer for everyone on the road.

World Record...

I think I just made the world record of doctor visits in one week. I think it all started with our trip to Monkey Joe’s (translation: the disgusting Petri dish infested with breeding germs www.monkeyjoes.com) a week and a half ago. Child #1 came down with a headache then cough followed by a sore throat then congestion. By the forth day (Thursday), I finally take her to the doctor. They check all the usual and send us home with "it’s a virus." My sister-in-law (who works at our pediatrician’s office) calls me on Saturday to inform me that Child #1 has strep throat (oh goody). She calls in the prescription for me (thanks sis).

In the meantime, Child #3 has come down with similar symptoms so I call the doctor back to make an appointment to get her in to get checked. Back to the doctor we go. They take the throat culture and will let us know in 48 hours.

Monday rolls around, you guessed it, Child #3 tested positive for strep throat. Wouldn’t you know it; Child #2 came down with the same symptoms as well. Back to the doctor we go for the third time. The great culture test is performed again and the 48 hour wait begins except the Doctor gives us a prescription for the antibiotics anyway (thank God). If she is positive then we’re covered, if she is not positive then we stop the drugs.

Of course, I get the call and Child #2 is positive. At this time, you think we’re all good, right? No. I get a call from the daycare telling me Child #3 has a 102 fever so I call the doctor back to take her back in. Child #3 is most likely immune to the antibiotics because she has had so many when she had multiple ear infections when she was an infant. The doctor comes to the same conclusion and we get a new prescription for a different antibiotic. Yippy!

That makes 4 doctor visits in a matter of one week. Granted when Child #3 was born, I did spend every day for two weeks going to the doctor to get her blood tested because her bilirubin count wouldn’t come down. She was jaundice. Considering I didn’t see the doctor every time, I won’t count this as actual doctor visits.

Anyway, the Hansen household is all drugged up and I actually got a full night of sleep last night. I’m still a little cranky, but recovering nicely. On the brighter side, James or I didn’t get sick. Knock on wood.

Handy Man

Over the years, I have learned to adapt in many different ways. I’m not even talking about relationship dynamics here that is a whole other blog series. This all has to do with mechanical operations around the house. You all know that my husband is a very resourceful handy man when it comes to fixing things. If he can’t fix it, he usually knows a guy.

One prime example that I love to give in order to fully understand how my husband operates is when my oldest was six months old (oh the glory days of only having one child). The water softener broke. If you live in a city that has heavy iron in the water, you completely understand my issue. To illustrate, without a water softener all your white clothes develop a nice rusty orange glow (same thing happens to blond hair). On top of this, my oldest was a chronic spit upper after eating (which was hell to get out before the water softener broke). As a wife, I rarely nag my husband, let me repeat “I AM NOT A NAG.” Letting this go on for another nine months, you can see that my previous statement holds true.

In my younger days, I probably would have said something after about three months. I have mellowed out since I have had kids and I have become much more passive aggressive (most likely because I’m a responsible adult now and kids are present and fighting like a bunch of 2 year olds is not a good example for children to watch).

Any way I feel I am not being heard when I have asked a few times is there a way we can fix the water softener over the specified nine month period (I really want my white clothes back). I take it upon myself to call a few companies to come in and give me estimates on fixing it or replacing the system. A guy comes in to take a look, he writes up an estimate to replace the unit. He won’t be able to fix it. I smile, say thank you and say I will give him a call when I discuss this with my husband.

My loving husband comes home from work. I hand him the estimate. He looks at it, crumples it up and heads down stairs mumbling some kind of impolite profanity. He comes back up after about an hour and says that the softener is fixed. I keep my mouth shut, but can’t hide my huge grin. I am adaptable, but there are limits.

I have been operating with a stove that only has two small working burners for the last three years (not the big burners). To turn on the washing machine, I have to use a utensil to turn the dial. The dryer needs to run twice to dry one load of clothes. The main bathroom still doesn’t have a center light installed. Casper the friendly ghost visits once in awhile because the lights tend to flicker occasionally (something to do with the breakers on the panel, oh did I mention my husband is an electrician). There is more, but I think you get the idea.

I’m not writing this because I want to complain about all things that are broken or half working in my house, I’m writing this because I’m frustrated with the way he gets mad at me when I tell him about another issue. Well maybe I am writing this to complain.

What tripped my trigger was our new-used car we bought. Something was wrong with the front end because every time I would go over a bump (Wisconsin winters aren’t friendly to the roads) the car would vibrate. I let him know about the issue, but he gets mad at me because he is sick of fixing cars (considering we just bought this vehicle, I understand how he feels). He left for a trip over the weekend and said he would look at it when he got back. I think great, it will be fixed then. Over the weekend, I was with my brother and sister-in-law and my brother-in-law says your right tire on the passenger side seems to be really low. I ask him if he can fill the tire up for me. Sure. He comes back and says the valve stem on the tire is leaking. After about a minute, he comes back in and says the tire is fixed. Obviously, I thanked him profusely.

Thank God, I have family to help me.

Worst Mom Award Goes to...

It's official I am the worst mom ever. The morning started okay. My routine was good until the mid morning when some unforeseen circumstances came up at work and threw me for a loop. I had dove into the issues at hand and was coming just coming out of them when the phone rang. I work from home on Fridays so it was my home phone that I was checking the caller ID on. It was child number one's school calling. Now at this point I am saying to myself that is weird they are calling me at 4:00 pm she would have already been on the bus. I pick up the phone. It is the secretary at school. She proceeds to inform me that my daughter said she was supposed to be picked up at school, but they had put her on the bus because no one was there to pick her up.

Let me explain that I rely on my sister-in-law for before and after school care. So I drop her off in the morning and she takes the bus with my nephew to and from school everyday. My sister-in-law had informed me earlier in the week and confirmed yesterday that she was taking my nephew to the doctors for a check up after school and wouldn't be home for my daughter. I had agreed to pick her up from school. No problem.

My exact words were "Oh my God! I have to go get her." The secretary proceeds to tell me what bus she is on and I hang up on her. I literally had a heart attack. She was going to freak out if I didn't get there before she got off the bus. I think I might have driven 55 in a 35 mph zone. It is also possible I might have pissed off a few people on the way too and I definitely experienced a little case of road rage that involved a few F-boms as well. I was completely panicking thinking she was going to have to go to therapy for this one. She's a very sensitive kid and little things can effect her dramatically. I wasn't completely sure how this experience would play out. In my head, I was already figuring out where we could fit in a therapy session during the week.

But I got there just in time to pick her up as the bus pulled up to the stop. She was teary eyed, but holding up well. I apologized continually and then we went over a plan just in case I wasn't there in the future to pick her up not that this would ever happen again.

I think she forgave me for now. To be continued...whether that holds true for the future.

Still reading too much!

I just read an article that listed the top ten mysterious diseases that doctors have no cure for. The article goes on to give a definition for each disease. To my surprise, Schizophrenia is one of them. If I’m not mistaken, this disease has been around for sometime now. I found this far too fascinating to let this go. I think in a past life I was a psychologist or sociologist since I just love observing and analyzing people’s behaviors. Well, 95% of the analyzing is actually my own behavior, which leads to a tiny bit of obsessive issues. Anyway the article gives this description of Schizophrenia.

Experts consider this the most puzzling of mental disorders, one which robs the sufferer of the ability to logically distinguish between reality and fantasy (I don’t know if I could get through a single day without visiting my fantasy world, especially when I am on my yacht in the Mediterranean). Symptoms range wildly between patients and include delusions (Sometimes when I buy a pair of shoes and read the receipt after the purchase, I swore the sale tag read $30), hallucinations (When I go down the basement stairs, I envision myself falling down the stairs breaking something and wondering how I am going to get back up the upstairs to take care of my kids and get help for myself), disorganized speech (Hell, disorganized is the understatement of the year, my head is so inflated with disorganization there is no room for organization in here. My husband would definitely vouch for this one), and lack of motivation or emotion (Oh my God, every morning I thoroughly lack the motivation to get up. My responsible personality has to yell at my tired personality to get up. Or maybe it is just the sound of my kids fighting over the space in my bed that motivates me to get up everyday.), but the disease has no defining medical tests (so in other words you can diagnosis yourself, lucky me).

If I would have gone to medical school, I would have ended up in a mental institution. I would have diagnosis myself with everything I would have studied or at least I would have related something about myself to every disease, illness and/or sickness out there. Oh, the joys of being me. At least they haven’t taken me away yet.

Spring is here!

Yay, Spring is here! The plan for this summer is to start a vegetable garden so the girls can experience the value of taking care of a living being. Baby steps towards getting a dog. Right?

Thus we head out last weekend to Home Depot to purchase seeds, soil and trays to start the growing process inside. The girls get to pick out their choice of vegetables, which they are all excited about. This completely baffles me since they don’t even like eating vegetables. Round one, the girls ended up fighting over which vegetable seed package they were getting. We quickly move on. Daddy grabs some dirt and trays and we head to check out. $50 later, the happy Hansen family is ready to plant some seeds.

When we get home, Daddy takes the initiative and starts filling the trays with potting soil and hands one off to me. It was great we were a family working together. I made little holes in each section and the girls dropped the seeds in and lightly covered them up. I labeled each section. And we handed the trays back to Daddy to put the final touches on, watering the seeds.

At this point you think what a boring little story. This is where the “Awww what a perfect little family” ends. Somehow the seeds have taken life a little too quickly and the soil starts to rise. In a moment of panic, Daddy starts to push the soil back down. Now most people would stop watering. Go ahead shake your head, I did. No not this Daddy, he continues to put water over the soil and the soil continues to expand. He continues to press the soil back down.

Finally, he grabs the packaging the trays were wrapped in. If he would have read the directions before, he would have figured out we didn’t need soil. The pellets that he thought were fertilizer were actually compressed soil that expands with water. Step One: place seeds in each section, Step Two: Add water, Step Three: You’re done. No extra soil was needed. At this point, we have used most of the seeds and starting over would require a trip back to Home Depot. Oh well, the strong will survive.

The next morning, we set the trays outside and then forgot to bring them in at night. Okay now, the strong will only survive. Strike two. Apparently, a green thumb doesn’t run on this side of the family.

How are the girls going to learn the value of taking care of a dog when their parents can’t even teach them how to plant seeds correctly?