The Horse that almost stole Christmas!

Child #1 (9 years) doesn't exactly believe in Santa Claus anymore, but she still plays along. Child #2 (7 years) is on the border. She only believes when it is convenient for her. Child #3 (6 years) still completely believes in Santa Claus, that is, until a week before Christmas. 

I have to give a shout out to the wonderful world of Disney. A big thanks to their wonderful new show "Dog with a Blog" gave three impressionable children the idea about snooping for Christmas gifts around the house. 

For the most part, Christmas gifts are stashed in my bedroom where I don't usually allow the children to hang out unless one of is in the room with them. The one gift that Child #3 wanted sooooo bad was slightly larger than I wanted to stash in my room so down the stairs it went into the basement. My children don't particularly like the basement. It is partially finished and they tend to stick to that area. Of course, I find a great dark corner to stash Baby Butterscotch. I pack tons of boxes on top and in front of it. 

One fretful morning, I was doing the dishes when Child #1 and Child #3 come up from the basement asking questions about the oh so desirable horse Child #3 wants. Yes, I caught on too quick. I went down stairs to find that Butterscotch was unveiled in the corner where I left her. I was so pissed. I had to go for a run. I couldn't even talk to them about it. At first, I thought the Handyman had moved the boxes around to find something. 

After I came back from my run, the Handyman tells me the minute I left Child #3 took Child #2 downstairs to look at her prize possession. So Handyman follows their trail downstairs, they are so enamored by this toy that they don't even notice him behind them for five minutes. Finally Child #2 turns and sees him standing there. She ducks her head, says nothing and runs upstairs. Child #3 continues her ogling for another minute before she realizes the Handyman is behind her. She busts out crying and tries to explain her actions. He never said a word to them. Somehow they blamed the TV show. I figured the damage was done. I never said anything to them about it. They knew I was mad and that they were wrong. 

My dilemma was more about how to explain there was no Santa Claus. Do I just tell them all straight out or do I come up with some kind of cover for the debacle? 

I took the next six days to decide what I was going to do about this situation. Seeking advice from others (which everyone had a different take on it), I finally made a decision. On Christmas Eve, I told Child #3 that do to her snooping skills I returned the horse and she better hope that Santa Claus is real. This was the only reference I made about the issue. I even placed all the gifts from Mom and Dad under the tree on Christmas Eve so in the morning the new gifts added to the tree would stand out as Santa gifts. 

The question is does she still believe? I don't know, but we will play the Santa game for another year to find out. 

Here is the beloved Baby Butterscotch that almost took down Christmas. Happy New Year!

Holiday Funnies

Holidays at my mom's house tend to be somewhat formal. We eat in the dining room with table cloths, wine glasses, and candle sticks (the Martha Stewart gene must skip a generation). Good conversation and a few laughs take place when we share our meal together. All was humming along when I was asked to pass the pepper. Apparently, I didn't notice the awkward silence that hushed the table previously when my mother placed the pepper on the table (I was too busy trying to help my kids fill their plates). It was kind of hard to take the whole thing serious when this was placed in my hand to pass around the table.

I busted out laughing, which broke the ice. My brothers started and couldn't stop laughing either. No one wanted to mention the similarity the pepper grinder had to another item that could possibly be found in a specialty shop. To top it off, the thing has batteries. There is no twisting the pepper out. I am still laughing. My mother's response was "That's probably why it was such a deal at the store."

Another story that will go down in the family history.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

Who doesn't like a fictional mystery? But reality sucks!

Okay so maybe not everyone likes a mystery, but I love them especially if they're really exciting and complicated. It's a given this is my choice of genre to read, although I will read anything and do love a good comedy. Now on the subject of television it's very similar for me. I gravitate towards shows that usually have a mystery to solve, which tends to always involve a dead person (how ironic, right!). My choice of shows are the Mentalist (bonus because this is also humorous), Criminal Minds (serious), Rizzoli & Isles (funny and serious), NCIS (some funny and serious) and so on.

Since I don't really watch a whole lot of TV, my children get to dominate the screen when I allow the TV to be on. There is only so much a person can handle of Disney and Nickelodeon. I've learned to almost dislike all the shows on these stations. So when my tolerance has tipped over the edge of the cup, I take over the remote and switch to something I want to watch (This doesn't happen very often, maybe once a month or so). If they don't like it, they can leave the room. Granted, I understand that not all my shows will be appropriate for my children's age level, but my philosophy is that they can't be kept in a bubble forever either. Child #1 consistently wants the world to be all rainbows, fluffy clouds, puppy dogs, and where everyone is nice to each other. We are constantly having to show her the world is not a perfect place and she has to make the best of every situation whether it is good or bad. Ironically, a lot of discussions come out of these shows where the girls will ask questions striking up good conversations.

With all this being said, I let the girls watch an episode of NCIS. Of course the beginning scene always shows the death of the person they will eventually investigate. This particular episode a person dressed as a clown shoots the intended victim. Definitely a mistake. The clown disguise freaked them out. All three of them slept in the same bed for 2 weeks. Child #2 kept talking about how she couldn't stop imagining a clown around every corner that would jump out at her and shoot her. After several weeks, they got over it. Then that horrible tragedy happened in Newtown, CT, which my heart goes out to all of those victims and families. I can't ever imagine the heartbreak they've had to endure. Bridging the gap between fiction and reality gets closer and closer. I don't know if I have the answers for my children, but honesty is the path I've taken. I'll keep my fingers cross that they'll be prepared to go out into the world and be productive citizens.  

Coming out of the Dark Ages

Do you remember when you were a kid (obvious this won't work for the generations older than myself) and someone had a black and white TV? First you were fascinated because it looked so different then you started asking the internal questions. Why don't they have a color TV? Why don't they just go buy a color TV?

Then I became an adult, a wife, a homeowner, a parent.

For my kids, it is like this, but with the old tube TV's versus the big flat screen TV's. Instead of the questions being asked with they, my kids are asking we. Okay, if you need help following me here. Why don't we have a big flat screen TV? Why don't we just go buy a flat screen TV?

My simple answer has always been. Why? The ones we have all work just fine.

Lately, do to my utter dislike of the cable company, I've wanted one of the new internet ready TVs. I've been waiting patiently (its been about two years now) for our old (15 year old) TV to die. It's still going strong. Basically, I want to get rid of cable and my land line and just use the internet. We don't watch a whole lot of TV so we could get by with Netflix and www.hulu.com. Plus the kids can watch all the www.disney.com and www.nick.com programs online.

Like everyone else, I've been browsing the Black Friday ads. I've only shopped Black Friday one other time in my life and that was five years ago when I went to buy a camera, which I didn't even have to wait in line for.

The high priority present this year happened to be I-pod touches. In order to get a good deal, I was going to have to venture out on the crazy Black Friday shopping event. This year, almost all the stores were enticing shoppers with TV doorbuster sales. I saw this as an opportunity to exploit only if I could convince my handyman to wait in line (handyman not so good with lines or waiting) with me to grab a TV while I grabbed the I-pods.

Surprisingly, he was willing to wait in line and even go an hour early just to ensure getting our needed items. It was a successful mission. We were able to get what we needed and a 50" flat screen TV for $330. What a bargain. I'm not sure I would've bought a new TV if the prices weren't so cheap lately.

Buying the TV turned out to be the easy part. Rearranging the furniture and cable hook-up location (handyman wasn't very happy about this) was a little more time consuming. I'm not ready to dump cable just yet (I still need to get a Roku box) so I had to go to the cable company and switch out our cable box in order for the TV to work.


Anyway the kids can come out of the dark and enjoy their color TV now. I have to admit it's pretty cool.

Have a safe weekend.

Quasi Narcissistic Guru

I love oxymoron's. Oooh that might explain too much. Back to being serious...

The key to life, obviously my opinion (oh yeah, this whole blog is about my opinion-very narcissistic of myself), is finding serenity. I have to chuckle because this topic always takes me back to the movie "City Slickers" when Billy Crystal is obsessed with finding the one thing (imagine him holding up his leather gloved index finger). Okay now back on track...

Serenity, for me, is finding the calm within. I'm not a holier than thou, meditating guru freak (I don't have anything against meditating or anything along those lines, again only my opinion), eat only wheat grass to cleanse the body type of person, but I believe I've found that one serenity moment for myself. It doesn't happen very often. In actuality, there have been years between moments, but today I actually experienced one.

It's always been when I'm hiking. I find my self surrounded by trees and nothing else. Even if it is cold out, the trees comfort me with warmth. The quiet sets in, but suddenly there is a gust of wind. Nothing you can feel, just hear. The wind sways the trees above, sounding like music, swirling in a noticeable pattern. Every gust is a musical note, drawing my attention upward, basking in the calmness that stills my body. My eyes slowly close to the quietness that supports me, the wind creates a vacuum, sucking away the craziness of life, and restoring the peace in my soul. Even if it's only just for one second, the calmness allows an awareness of my spirit to guide me to a simple happiness deep within.   

Okay go ahead and shake it off.

This is my story and I'm sticking to it. Maybe if everyone found their inner peace, we would be much more happy as a collective whole.

Go out and find your inner peace. Searching for it, could be fun.

Back-to-Back Pressure

The pressure hits, my eyes flip open. The silence is complete throughout the house. Not even the sound of the furnace pushing heat through the vents is present. I'm afraid to move. I don't want to feel the ache. The debate begins.

Do I try to get up to relieve the pressure and risk waking the kids?

Or do I try to go back to sleep  by pretending the pressure doesn't exist?

The silence is wonderful and I want to savor it, but pressure calls. Softly, my foot steps pad over to the bathroom. The plan was to make it quick, get in, get out. Of course my muscles have been holding in the pressure so long, they won't let go. I need to hurry up and the pressure to release the pressure is not helping. My children tend to have a six sense when I'm up. Trying not even to breath hard, I try to imagine the water trickling out of the faucet. Initially this helps, but the flow of the stream feels to be a trickle, not helping my urgency to finish up and get back to my warm bed. My muscles are refusing to release the stream so I lean forward trying to help the flow.

All in all, this all ends up taking five minutes. It must've been some world record for the longest pee (I'll have to look that up). Tip-toeing it back to my bed, I'm all snuggled back into the warmth when I hear the first sounds of movement. Mission not complete. Frankly, I wasn't even all that satisfied from the relief of the pressure because my muscles were still so tense.

I guess the moral of the story is don't drink so much water before going to bed.

Have a great day!

Keyless and Stuck Outside

The weather has drastically dropped this week, needless to say it's really cold outside. Normally I don't relent to the treadmill until it snows, but it's really cold outside and I don't feel like fighting the wind. In the spirit to curve the sugar intake, I decide to take on the treadmill early.

So I head down to the basement, I plug the treadmill into the wall, get on the belt and there's no key. The treadmill doesn't work unless you have the pullout key. I look around and nothing,. For the past ten years, the key has never been messed with. Now I am extremely PISSED. Good thing the kids were at school when I discovered this. I end up going outside anyway and taking a nice long jog. It definitely cooled me off. On the positive side, it was sunny outside.

Maybe it's a sign I can get a new treadmill. I can only guess one of my lovely children or their friends were the culprit, but it's lost and nothing I can do about it. The handyman of the house said he could possibly hot wire it when he gets home so maybe a new treadmill isn't in my future.

For now, I'm stuck running outside.

Stay warm and enjoy your day!

Sucrose Overdose

Halloween candy has dragged on a little too long this year for me (the girls got too much good stuff this year). I've eaten my fill and then some so it is time to put the candy away. The image that keeps coming to mind is Violet from "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" movie when she eats the candy that makes her blow up like a large blueberry and the Oompa-Loompas have to roll her out of the scene. I'm feeling a little bluish. Thanksgiving is only two weeks away. I need to stop the madness. 

In order to sever the sugar pipe, I go for some hot chocolate to help curve the craving (I know its still chocolate and sugar, but it's supposed to help). It's the first step to withdrawing from sugar.

Boil the water
Add chocolate powder to a cup
Fill cup with boiling water
Ready to drink

Simple process except it doesn't quite taste right. Then it hits me, I just put Nestle Quik in the cup instead of the Hot Chocolate powder. If you ever do this, don't add the Hot Chocolate powder to it. It doesn't help just start all over again.

Note to self: separate Nestle Quik and Hot Chocolate Powder. 

Seeded Victory!

I think I've found the hardest piece of fruit to eat and possibly the messiest. Commonly baffled by the small quantity of substance that it offers, I always come away full and satisfied especially considering the energy expended digging down attempting to fight to the last seed. I've never met another fruit that battles to a bloody mess for every spoonful of seeds. Between the vicious blood-red juice squirting you in the eye or splattering across your face, your neck, your computer, your book, I find myself diving in for another slippery, juicy red seed only to be attacked again. In a masochistic moment, I keep going back for more just to conquer that last stubborn seed hiding under the flesh against the wall of the fruit. Don't judge, feeling victory over a seed is still a victory.

Can you guess what fruit I am describing?

I know the suspense is killing you.

Pomegranate!

Now, go out and vote! Then stop at the store and try a pomegranate.

Have a great day!

Call a Spade a Spade!

Over the years, I've picked up some heavy sarcasm. I've always been a serious, focused, goal orientated person, but the other side of me always wanted to have fun too. The sarcasm has become the product of my personality fighting with itself. In the past few years, the sarcasm has become more progressive by the influence of others (I don't know, possibly my husband). The more I have to deal with people outside of my family, the more I need a coping mechanism. Hence, we have sarcasm.

Now that you have some background, I can get to the story. This actually happened about a month ago, but I needed some time to figure out the approach.

So I was invited to join a book club through one of the other soccer moms on Child #1's team (who I've become close friends with over the past few years. She still likes me even with my flaws). Since I read like a crazy scientist that never sees the light of day, she thought I would be a perfect fit for this group. It was actually her first time joining the book club as well. I thought okay I should try this. I wanted to expand my boundaries, do something out of the box, improve myself as a person, blah, blah, blah. If it didn't workout, I could just not come again. No problem.

I enter the person's house that is hosting the book club, I'm the third one there. The hostess and another woman that I've met before (these two are best buds). They are gracious with introductions and offer drinks. Then my friend who invited me shows up. We chat and everyone falls into conversation. Then two more women show up. One looks at me like I might've grown a wart on my face and it was still growing right before her eyes. (Okay so I wasn't dressed exactly for a night out on the town, clad jeans, ponytail, no makeup, glasses, tennis shoes, no jewelry, but it was a fucking book club at a persons house. Come On! I thought I dressed the part perfectly as the book worm.) The other women I've met as well through another function I went to. Introductions are made around the circle. I think to myself, I can handle this (Besides my friend that invited me, there are only four other women at this book club. That makes six total people at this club. If my friend and I didn't show up, there would've only been four people).

The conversation continues. The one woman who looked at me like I was a space alien (did I mention she was weighted down with jewelry, every finger had something on it, multiple bracelets, earrings, necklaces) asked what I did for a living. Here is where the sarcasm rears its ugly head.

"Nothing." Then I proceed to stuff my mouth with brownies.

Silence, all eyes on me. They all look horrified at me. (I didn't mention that the four women that I wasn't friends with previously were dressed all to the nines. My friend was dressed casually, but not all jeweled up.)

Another one, laughs and says, "So you eat bon bons all day."

With my mouth full of brownie, I say, "Yep. Well actually it's cookies."

My friend tries to help me out and says, "That's not true, you do a whole bunch of stuff."

When I'm sinking on a ship, I like to be on it by myself so I stick to my story. My answer goes back to the days when I worked full time. People would always ask me what I did. They would always make a big deal about what I did so I started to down play what I did because it was just a job. Sometimes things appear to be more exciting than they really are. In everything we do, there is always a downside and an upside. So now, I just respond I do nothing otherwise I would have to go into a monologue of everything I do on a daily, weekly, monthly basis. It's boring can't we just talk about other things. Who cares what we all do for a living. Let's just talk about a book. It's way more exciting. All this is going through my head, but I keep it securely repressed from reaching my lips.

At this point, I thought we were waiting for more women to show up because we hadn't started discussing the book yet. I also have consumed two alcoholic beverages in a matter of one hour so I've become a little more social and excited than I normally am. The hostess does try to veer the group to discuss the book by asking a question about it. I'm pretty sure this is the point it all goes down hill for me. Suddenly the topic of conversation switches to someone's head stone. I become quiet and try to follow where this is going because I must've missed something. They continue to talk about a woman and viewing a head stone at a cemetery. I still can't figure it out so I ask whose head stone is it. It turns out that the headstone is for a baby ( I know it is a very sad subject, but we are at a book club. A little inappropriate.) who was stillborn a month prior to a woman whose not even at the book club. This conversation continues for a full complete hour. Since I've lost interest in this whole thing, I'm feeling this club is definitely not for me. I'm almost positive all my feelings were written on my face. I can't keep a poker face to save my life.

Finally the conversation is veered to other topics that I can join in on. Then the gossip club (oops, I meant book club) wraps up and they discuss what book is going to be the next book to read. I think to myself, why even bother you don't even discuss the book. I try to appear interested and exit as fast as I can. As I'm leaving, I'm wondering if I shouldn't just try it one more time. Maybe this was just an odd night. I want to stay positive.
 
The next evening, I get a call from the hostess of the book club. This was strange in itself, but I answered the phone and immediately I knew why she called. She was beating around the subject and was having a hard time saying what she wanted to say so I helped her out.

I laughed and said, "I won't be offended if you don't want me to come to the book club next month."

She thanked me and insisted it wasn't her decision and she really wanted me to be part of the group (we had a great conversation the night before), but others didn't think I was a good fit. Then she asked if I could still send her an invite to my www.shelfari.com page.

Whoa, back up here. You don't want me to show up to your stupid book club, but you still want to see what kind of books I read and recommend and what I have to say about them. WTF! Next time, you invite someone to your club, inform them that it is an exclusive gossip club and you are not allowed to invite anyone else unless you get the weighted down jewelry queen's approval. Good Luck!

My friend who invited me was more upset about this situation than I was, but what a great friend she is because she is now boycotting that book club and we are starting our own. Anyone can join even if you need to wear a wig and dress like a homeless person, you will still be welcome.

Have a nice day!

Did I say that out loud?

After a fun filled weekend of 3 soccer games and a whole soccer team sleepover on Saturday night, I'm not sure if I came out the other end okay. Did I mention a whole team of 10 screaming 7 years-old girls at my house?

My plan was to wear them out with a scavenger hunt/hike, hot chocolate, kick ball, pizza, bonfire with smore's, a movie (it was more like two movies because they wouldn't go to sleep) with popcorn. Unfortunately, I think I wore myself out. On the good side, it was a successful sleepover. No one got hurt, sick or wanted to go home.

When Sunday came around, we had Sunday school and another soccer game. This is the part where I should have stayed home. When I'm tired, it's kind of like being drunk. I lose my social filter. Even though I know, I shouldn't be saying certain things I feel the words tumble out of my mouth in slow motion and I can't take them back. By the end of the soccer game, I'm pretty sure I offended everyone who could hear my loud mouth. I am not making excuses. I accept all accountability with my social diarrhea. These are times when I wish I could be the calm, quiet mom. Unfortunately, I like who I am so there is no hope in changing my issues. Plus I've tried to be good, but it's like a shaken can of soda. When you hold all that pressure inside and finally crack the top a little, the soda still foams up and explodes everywhere.

By Monday, you would think I would've recovered. I'm not so sure. After taking the kids to school, hitting the road with my Aasics, I come back home to find I have missed calls and text messages. The right thing to do is return calls and answer text messages, which I do. Next I have to stretch, but I hear voices. Yes I said it. I hear voices and I can't figure out where they are coming from. (Just a little background, my husband and I think our house is sometimes haunted. That will be another story for later). I walk around the kitchen trying to find out where they are coming from. It only takes me a minute to hone in on the area where I hear them.

Enough suspense. Right?

 Well it turns out I left my I-pod on. I could hear the faint sound of music coming out of the earphones. Hope you enjoyed the laugh. Have a great day!

Jiggly and Stuff

Child #1 and Child #2 continue to tag team me with temper tantrums. I almost feel like their hormone levels are more out of whack than my thirty-five year old hormones.

Today it was Child #1's turn to throw a two year old temper tantrum. While in the shower enjoying the heat and relaxation, I hear feet kicking on the ground, moaning and whining outside the door. The first thought to come to mind, "great, now what is she crying about." Ignoring everything outside the door, I continue with my routine. Then I hear something about missing her blanket (I know I can hear all the critiques now, my nine year old still has a blanket. It used to be called Buba when she was little, but now that she is nine she just calls it blanket. There are reasons we haven't taken it away, but that's a whole other story).

So the next thought that comes to mind, "Are you kidding me, what is wrong with her? A blanket. She is having a fit over a blanket right now. She's going to school in thirty minutes." As these thoughts flow through my rational mind, I can feel the irritation and anger start to build. I never had a temper tantrum at nine, maybe two (my mother will be over joyed to tell the stories about my temper tantrums at two years old), but not nine years old. What the hell is wrong with her?

So I whip the door open and tell her to "Go look for it."

Her response is more moaning, kicking, crying and she yells at me, "I did look for it. I can't find it."

Of course, I say, "Get in your room for yelling at me."

Kicking and yelling more at me, she gets up and goes in her room. Then she says crying and yelling still, "Why am I being punished? I didn't do anything wrong."

At this point envision the cartoon character that is boiling mad and you watch the red color take over his neat outline of his body from his feet to his head. Then the steam comes out the ears. This is exactly how I am feeling. I whip the bathroom door open, stomp into the Child #1's room and tell her

"This behavior is unacceptable at nine years old. You are acting like a two year old or a spoiled brat. You choose. I will not tolerate this behavior that is why you are being punished. It is not all about you, Child#1."

With this great speech, all the tears and whining stop abruptly. Maybe I'm actually getting through to her.

Child #1 says, "When you yell at me, can you please put some clothes on?"

I bust out laughing, "If my naked body is going to torture you that bad, I will have to remember that for next time."

I walk back into the bathroom. I hear a laugh and she says,  "Ewww. Mom it's so gross. It's all jiggly and stuff."

Now I have a new threat to stop unacceptable behavior.

Have a great day!

Hot Tamale

I came home the other day with a small bag full of my parents garden goodies, a few tomatoes, a few green peppers, a few red peppers, a few hot chilli peppers. All the goodies were laid out on the counter full of bright and dark reds colors. I planned on making some fresh salsa.

After the girls came home from school, I noticed Child #2 couldn't keep her hands off the merchandise. She must've been attracted to the colors. While touching and feeling the different textures of each veggie, she kept asking what was what and if they were hot. I told her some of the peppers were hot. You could almost see what was going through her head when her eyes bulged out. The peppers were just tempting her to take a bite out of it.

The next day, she couldn't keep her hands off of one of the large red peppers, continuing with her questions about how hot it would be and what it tasted like.    

Finally I said, "Take a bite."

Eyeing me up suspiciously, she replied, "It's going to be hot."

"I will give you a dollar if you take a big bite out of it."

"Really?"

"Yep."

Hesitant at first, but Child #2 went in for the big bite. She chewed it and swallowed it.

"Mmm. This is good." And she took another bite.

I knew the red pepper wasn't hot, but I wanted her to stop bugging me about the peppers.

A few hours later, I was folding clothes and a bolt of lightening streaked down the hall into the bathroom. Child #2 was holding a half eaten red hot chilli pepper in her hand.

She says with her tongue hanging out fanning the heat out of her mouth. "This one is hot, mom."

I busted out laughing. She couldn't take the suspense of not trying all the peppers.

Welcome Back...Blisters

I don't know what I was thinking when I put on my new running shoes on and went running. Man, I have the blisters to show for it. I'm not sure what was more painful running the last two miles in the half marathon I ran earlier in the spring or these blisters on my heals. Normally I would've worn the shoes a few times walking around before I put them on to go running, but apparently my lack of judgement yesterday was enticing me to a week of pain.

I was blessed with the last two pairs of shoes I purchased that never gave me blisters. Unfortunately, when I went to purchase the same shoe that style didn't have my size anymore so I had to go with same shoe, but newer version. I hate that the shoe manufacturers always have to update their styles. When I find a good shoe I usually buy 2 to 3 of the same shoe at a time (I usually have to buy new running shoes every 3 to 4 months. I know that's a lot, but I put a lot of miles on my shoes. Have to keep the joints happy.) Well I went through those pairs so now I'm back to square one. Now off to the store to buy more band aids.

Holy Terror 7

I'm not sure why the terrible 2's were such a big deal. I've discovered that the age of seven for Child #2 has become a holy terror between the back talking, teasing her sisters, yelling, fighting with her sisters and the sneaky, conniving, devious, trouble making crap she pulls. Hence I am coining the phrase Holy Terror Seven. This definitely goes back to my theory of every child is born with their personality. I'm not sure parenting has too much influence anymore.

After this summer, I'm not sure if I will be willing to take my kids on a vacation next year. I love traveling and I want my children to experience great things about the world outside of our little town that is just a spec on the map. Unfortunately, their behavior this summer was extremely disappointing. It has almost drove me back to getting a job. Interesting thought. I will sleep on that one. Thankfully school starts in a week and the life sucking world of club soccer has begun. We will be back in top notch shape. Maybe my memory of this summer will fade like the memory of pain from child birth. Who knows. Happy new school year everyone! 

Snakey Canoe

On our annual camping trip with my Aunt Marty and Uncle Tom, I wanted to take the girls out canoeing on one of the lakes at Warbler's Cove Campground. We pack up the golf cart with towels and life jackets and headed down to the lake. I didn't even forget the ores.

This was exciting, I hadn't taken the girls all together in one canoe before. I proceed to flip the canoe over.  To my surprise, a big fat garter snake is slithering around at the bottom of the canoe trying to get out. My first reaction is to grab it by its tail and get it out of the canoe, but as I'm approaching the snake I make the mistake of saying, "Oh, there's a a garter snake in the canoe." Then the one and only Child #2 starts an ear piercing scream that startles me and the snake. The snake slithers into the boxed in area at the back of the canoe. I couldn't get it out. It didn't matter anyway Child #2 refused to even get within 20 feet of the canoe. At least Child #1 and #3 were calm and reasonable through the whole ordeal.

Well my next option was the paddle boats, but the boat was kind of dirty and I didn't want to spend time cleaning it out. The third option was a row boat. Now this is something I've never experienced. Yes, I've never rowed a boat before. I've canoed and kayaked, but not rowed a boat.

I love trying something new. After the snake incident, Child# 2 didn't have all that much confidence in me. It took me a few minutes to get the hang of it, but I managed to get us around the lake without any other disasters. Child #1 and #3 tried out rowing for a few minutes each. Child #2 refused. At least the boat didn't sink. We had a great afternoon rowing all over the lake.

Captain Saves the Day!

Planning, starting and finishing a road trip is an exhausting adventure, though extremely fulfilling and exciting all in one. Our big 2012 road trip this year was kicked off with driving down South of Chicago to take my Grandma out to lunch.

It had only been the third day of over 100 degrees. Not exactly great conditions, but it was a great break in our annual drive to Michigan. Plus my grandma was able to see her great-grand daughters before we left for a few weeks.

Lunch took a little longer than expected so I was a little off schedule, but not by much. No big deal. As I'm getting my grandma's walker out of the truck, the girls jumped out, I dropped my keys, and then slammed the door. Funny the door didn't close all the way so I tried opening it again to re-close it. 

Yup. You guessed it. The door did not open for me. At the time I thought I'd dropped my keys on the ground and Child #2 had picked them up. I put the walker down for my grandma and the girls already started walking her into her building. I yell for Child #2 to give me the keys, but she doesn't have them. I look into the back door and there they are inside the truck.

All I can do is laugh otherwise I might cry. I walk into the building and ask the security guard if he knows anyone who could open my door for me. His response is to call a locksmith, but that will cost a lot of money. His next suggestion is to call Captain Dubish (now as he says the name, the light bulb hits peak brightness, my Uncle is the Police Chief for the city that my grandma lives in). I smack my forehead and hustle grandma up to her room to call my Uncle Phil.

Uncle Phil makes it over to my truck within five minutes and has the truck unlocked within fifteen minutes. He doesn't unlock cars very often anymore so he said it took longer than his officers do. I was so thankful he saved the day.

Phew. I was sweatin' bullets for awhile there, but we made it to our destination in Michigan before dark. We still made pretty good time. And Child #2 didn't even complain once on the ride (it was a miracle).

10 Year Old Honey-Do-List

Front window replaced. Check.

I can't fault my lovely husband for the whole ten years. It did take me the last 3 months to actually decide on the window itself. He got so fed up with me changing my mind, I had to go to the store to order it all by myself. 


Before:

During:

After instillation, before trim:

After:

It's funny when you can get so excited about something as simple as opening up a window. I am so ecstatic with my new window I had to share. I can actually open up the front window. The only down fall is I have to now make a huge decision about the color of the trim on the outside. You may notice the green trim color in the before picture. Changing trim color is not as simple as I want it to be. I will now have to change all the other trim around the windows, doors and roof. I don't know what I would do if I had to actually make quick decisions while building a house. It takes me forever to decide because I know I will have to live with it for 10 or more years. Now my irises might take ten years to rebound, but at least I can feel the nice lake breeze through the house.

Enjoy the summer!

Explaining the Crunch

Wife asks while on the phone with her husband, "Do you want the good news or bad news first?"

Husband replies, "Bad news first."

Wife sighs, "Really! I was hoping for the good news. Well, I pulled a Jimmy."

Husband asks, "What's that?"

Wife responds, "You know, several years ago when your dad came over to watch the kids and we were late for our appointment for closing on a duplex at the title company."

Husband hesitantly says, "Yeeaahh."

Wife continues, "And we got into your truck, you revved the engine and stepped on the gas while in reverse. Only to end up slamming into your dad's truck behind us."

Silence

Wife expands, "Well I did that to your truck today. It's not bad. The hitch on my truck dented your bumper and my bumper is a little pushed in. No big deal. You wanted to buy a new truck anyway."

Husband confused, "I left my truck on the opposite side of the driveway than yours. How is it possible you backed up into my truck?"

Wife cheerfully replies, "Well honey, I moved your truck behind my truck for the birthday party so the kids wouldn't play in between the vehicles and forgot it was there."

Silence.

Wife continues, "The good news is my brother got a new job and is moving to Bozeman, Montana. He is very excited. I am happy for him. We'll have another excuse to go out west again."

Silence.

Crunch Time

Ever since we've been back from Disney, I've been disorganized. With the end of the school year, multiple field trips, the end of soccer season and everything else that goes with daily life, I've been way too busy. Maybe even a little distracted.

Of course, I have to go one step further and make it even more complicated. I throw a six year old birthday party on the last day of school. To top that off, the hubby is out of town for the week. Why you may ask? Well I have several reasons. On the girls last day of school, the school district was kind enough to give us a half day. So I thought what a great way to have some of the kids come home on the bus with Child #3. That way some of the parents that work full time don't have to worry about finding places for their kids to go. Then I thought it would be better than trying to reach all the kids during the summer, you know with vacations and activities. The only problem was I forgot about sending out the invitations. It boiled down to me calling several parents the week before and praying a few kids would show up.

It ended up turning out very well. I had a total of fourteen children including my three to watch at the beach swimming. Granted, my ever so gracious sister-in-law always helps me out so at least I had her. She is always awesome with helping at parties so thanks sis.

Anyway, the party was a success. All the kids were picked up by 5:30pm. Child #3 was ecstatic and grateful. But I couldn't breath yet, I still had to feed my children dinner. And I still had a appointment for our rental house to show at 6:15pm. I figure I'll jump in the truck and take the kids to Subway and bring the sandwiches back to eat at home so I can be there for the appointment (rental house is next door to our house). No problem. Kids are in the car, I have my purse, the car is started. I back up.

Crunch!

The girls asked, "What'd you hit mom, the scooters?" At this point, I have no idea. So I jump out of the truck and take a look.

Yep. I backed into my husband's truck. I didn't even see the truck in my review mirror. Distraction might be an understatement at this point. I had moved the truck behind mine so the kids wouldn't play in between the vehicles. Oh well. My husband needs a new truck anyway. This might be a little incentive for him to get on that.

Hot Temp

When it is 90 degrees, everyone gets a little irritated. But when it's 90 degrees and there's no air conditioning, everyone gets a little hot (pun intended).

So our central air kept running, but nothing was really coming out of the vents. Of course, I shut it down and consulted the fix-it guy. Well the fix-it guy comes home and messes with the thermostat. Suddenly, the central air unit won't even turn on. Now the fix-it guy is not just hot temperature-wise, he's hot temper-wise. And when the fix-it guy is hot temper-wise, look out. We will call it mildly frustrated. I tell him to let it go and I'll call someone on Monday. Yeah, no. He can't let it go. He calls several friends to help him troubleshoot the problem. Nothing.

Next morning, he gives it one more shot and turns the air on. Miracle of miracles its starts. Then he shuts it off and tries it again. Nothing. This is where I begin to tell him our house is haunted (I've known this for years, but that's another story). I push on the thermostat and it starts. Something is wrong with the thermostat, which is weird because we just replaced the thermostat a few years ago. He rips the unit off the wall (literally) and hard wires the two wires that make the air run. Apparently, heating and air conditioning are a simple system. It's the computerized thermostats that have made it complicated.

Basically, I get to turn on the air conditioning with a simple twist of a wire nut holding two wires together. Then when I want to shut it off, I will have untwist the wire nut. Fun.

The fix-it guy went out and got a new thermostat. Yeah the air is back on and working. Just in time for Tuesday's cool 70 degree weather.

Where Magical Dreams Come True...

It happened. After some maternal grandparent brow beating, we broke down and took the kids to Disney World in Florida. Now James and I've never been to Disney World and we turned out okay (I know some might differ on this, but for the most part we are productive people in society). I didn't really see the need to go, but with some outside influence I booked the trip. 

I went into this trip knowing my children would only be able to handle so much. The trip was planned for six nights. Three parks and two down days. First night, we settle into our hotel and swim in the pool. First day, Animal Kingdom. Second day, Magic Kingdom. Third day, down day at the beach. Fourth day, Universal Studios. Fifth day, down day to swim or do whatever we feel like. Sixth day, we fly home. Knowing everything might not go as planned, I didn't have that high of expectations.

Overall, everything went fairly well. The only thing I didn't expect was the how extreme Child #2 was going to complain. Now I definitely expected some complaining, but she was down right horrible. Screaming at us on how she didn't want to go to Disney and how we made her go. She hated us for it. All she wanted to do was go swimming. Granted, it was hot, but we had been in air conditioning for several rides and shows at the Animal Kingdom. Thank God, we went early and had gone on most of the rides and seen most of the shows. At this point, I said to her that she will be banned from any future family vacations. She will be staying with one of her grandpas next year. The funny thing is she agreed to this (of course, the next day she denied that she agreed to it). Child # 1 and #3 were much more grateful. I'd say Child #1 was definitely the most mature.

By the end of the trip, Child #2 had lost her Birthday party that we were going to have in the summer. I have to say I am definitely running out of threats. So next summer, we might become a family of four on our family vacation. We'll see. Though Child #2 did apologize several times for her behavior. The problem is that the behavior continues to be the same just on a different day.

So what did I learn at Disney World? I learned that I can't stand people. I realized that I use all my patience up on my children  and I have nothing left for other people. Disney is not my cup of tea. Give me a mountain to hike or a trail to ride or a road to run on any day. I'm glad the girls had the opportunity to go. It was a one (one and only) in a life time chance.

On the happy side, we did have fun. Child #2 got better as the trip went on. Several rides, we had a blast on and went on more than once. They will have great memories and pictures to remember the trip forever. Thank God it is over and we are home.

Not just another Birthday

So the big three-five has surfaced. On the good side, I don't look any different from my last day of being thirty-four. On the other side, I forgot to renew my drivers license before the expiration date, which happened to be this year on my birthday, May 30. Normally this wouldn't be a problem except that I didn't notice the expiration date until I was waiting in line for security to check my ticket and ID to get on the airplane to head back to Wisconsin on May 31. In this instant revelation, I quickly motion to my husband what I've discovered. He gives me his license and the tickets in hope the security person won't notice.

While I'm waiting the happy nice security lady checking the tickets is replaced with the grumpy security lady. Not good, not good. Now there is only one person ahead of us. I'm ready to start biting my nails. Suddenly, another security person replaces the grumpy security lady. The new security guy takes our tickets and IDs (my license is on the bottom). Thankfully, this guy is happy too and from Minnesota. He asks us what our opinion is about the Packers wanting to retire Brett Favre's number. Of course, we laugh and say we're good with it. He checks the IDs and tickets and waves us through.

Phew.

That may have been some divine intervention or just luck swinging our way. Either way, I am very thankful.

By the light of the Moon...

By the light of the moon, I see a darken hole. I know there are freshly washed clothes in that darken hole, but there isn't enough moonlight to identify what I am reaching for deep down into that hole. Does it really matter that I can't see? Well not really. It would be nice to be able to see what clothes I need to hang dry though. Simple luxuries I've forgone with. Oh woa is me. It's a hard life. I know I shouldn't complain, but it makes for a fun story.

Okay so in our laundry room (which is in the basement) we have these ugly fluorescent long tube lights. One by one they have burnt out. Since I notified the handy electrician in the house (two weeks ago) that the last tube is on its last flickering leg, I thought by the first week there would be some replacement tubes. Nope. Nothing. Nada. The handy electrician has decided I need to go to the store to buy two new pull chain sockets to replace the broken light socket in the work room in the basement (It's only been two years since that socket broke) and to replace the tube production light in the laundry room. No problem. I can do that.

Sockets are in the house. Another week goes by, they are still neatly enclosed in the boxes they came in. Granted, we had a busy weekend with a soccer tournament for two kids this past weekend and mothers day at my mom's house, but the handy electrician had time to fix someone else's electrical on Saturday night. Hmmm. Now that same handy electrician is out working hard in another state for the rest of the week. Hmmm. That reminds me. The garage light is burnt out and the porch light is burnt out too. By the time he comes back, we might be living in the dark. I guess I'm going to have to get a tool belt and a ladder for myself. Look out.

Fix-It

There's always one of those small things that you say you are going to fix and never do. Well, this time it was a small little stapler that Child #1 had brought home. After a few uses it became jammed. Child #1 and Child #2 had asked me to fix it several times, but I always brushed them off ( they have access to my normal sized stapler if needed).

Today, Child #2 asks me again to fix it so I agree to it. In order to get the jammed staple out, I needed a knife. Child #2 hurries to get me a butter knife from the kitchen.

All is good, I easily push the staple out and readjust the other staples so it is as good as new. Possibly too good. Child #2 runs off to finish her project she was working on.

Not even one minute later, Child #2 runs back down the hall in that panicky voice every mother never wants to hear, "I just stapled my thumb. Mom, I just stapled my thumb."

Okay at this moment, I'm going to stay calm. It's probably just a little piece of the staple stuck in her skin. No big deal. Right?

No. It's a pretty big deal. I've never seen a staple stuck that far into the skin before. Granted, I wanted to freak out, but I stayed calm and collective trying to sooth her while I figured out what to do. The staple was all the way through her thumb. The end was probably touching the back of her nail. In a strange way, I was a little fascinated. I pull her into the bathroom, not sure how much blood would spurt out when the staple was removed.

Surprisingly, the staple came out pretty easily. Nothing more than a pin prick of blood. I quickly wash it, dump hydrogen peroxide over it, and put a band aid on it. I wash my hands and my emergency room is closed for the evening.

The stapler went straight into the garbage and Child# 2 was banned from using anymore staplers.

Scary Sneaky

On the side of the field, I'm juggling a 12 girl line up with only five girls on the soccer field at a time (its hell to try to get all equal playing time). Child #2 comes bouncing off the field and asks me can we get ice cream after the game now that I scored my goal. Apparently, Child #2 has a delusion that she deserves ice cream every time she scores a goal. I'm not exactly even sure where she came up with this idea, but she continues to hound me about it. In the midst of switching kids off the field, I just tell her to go ask her dad. At this point, we're into the second half and she comes skipping back from the other side of the field with a huge grin on her face to inform me that dad told her he would take her to get ice cream. Again I'm in the middle of finagling children on and off the field when I realize my enchanting daughter has just recruited six other girls to go get ice cream with her after the game. 

The game ends (we won 7 to 1), I clean up the side line and go find the push over to figure out what exactly are his plans. So I ask the push over, "You said you would take her to get ice cream after the game?"

Defensively he says, "I did no such thing. I told her it was no deal on the ice cream."

Now the truth comes out about my lying, scheming middle child. We are going to be in so much trouble.

Feeling Good

The big day came and went. I completed my first(possibly my last) half marathon 13.1 miles of pounding bones and joints against the pavement. It was a great experience. The shot gun start was a little frustrating, not like the triathlons where you get assigned heats for your start. I felt really strong for the first eight miles. The next two miles I still felt good, but after the tenth mile it was torturous. Then came the eleventh mile (only two miles to go), I had nothing left. I was basically a robot going through the motions to finish. My feet hurt, my knees hurt, my hip hurt. I pushed on to the last mile. Man, that mile felt like two. I swear it went on forever. Crossing the finish line, the clock read 1:57:30. The shock filled my system and my body didn't hurt so much anymore. I couldn't believe it I made it under 2 hours. Of course, then I start to think I could have ran a little faster at the end, but like I said I had nothing left at the time. It was a great accomplishment for my own little personal goal and I won't have to run another half marathon again.

The next day I was pretty sore, but it was a good sore. It was hard to jump out of the starting gate from a sitting position, but as the next day came it got easier.

Now three days later, I find myself feeling really good. The only analogy I can come up with is giving birth. While going through labor, you feel pain (that's until they give you my all time favorite drug the epidural) and think how the hell will you ever get through pushing a child the size of a watermelon out a hole the size of a lemon. After the baby is born and everyone is healthy and filled with the bountiful love and joy of a new born baby, you tell yourself it wasn't so bad, I could do it again. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but in the future I can definitely do it again.

So maybe I will do another half marathon next year.

Oscar the Couch

I am the first one to admit that my house keeping skills aren't top notch anymore. I used to be the every Saturday morning for four hours cleaner, right down to wiping down the base boards and trim work on my hands and knees (Yes I would knock out the whole house every Saturday morning and I was fast and efficient). Obviously this was eight years ago before I had a human being that relied on me 24/7.  The problem is that the need to have a clean house all the time never really came back.


Now my goals have become simpler. If I keep up with the dishes and laundry everyday, I feel like I'm treading water. I'm lucky to wipe down a counter one day and scrub a toilet another day.  I've probably become more efficient, but I don't get that big satisfaction out of the whole house being clean at once.

At this point, you're probably thinking I have a really messy and dirty house (on occasion if you stop by on an off day this might be true...). Actually the major deep cleaning occurs when the season changes for me now. It kicks off when I have to switch out the girls clothes (get rid of the too small clothes, bring up the stored clothes from the basement, you know the routine). This is also about the same time when I freak out and clear out the clutter in the bedrooms. Two of my children have a tendency to hoard or store things in improper places (FOOD DOES NOT BELONG IN THE BEDROOM AND THERE IS NO TRASH CAN UNDER THE BED!)

I digress, my point today was supposed to be about the living room. Spring is here. On my agenda today was to move the furniture and vacuum. The couch is pretty heavy so I don't move it too much. For the last eight years, it has survived daily jumping, beating and stabbings (Lazy Boy is well constructed). I believe not too many couches would've made it. I even fear to get a new couch at this time considering my children are still young and rambunctious. Now this doesn't mean the couch doesn't have it's down falls. After using my whole body weight to shove the couch away from the wall, I discovered our object eating couch consumed quite a bit this season.

Not one, but two Nintendo DS stylists
Loads of popcorn (I'm glad we don't have mice in our house)
Tons of hair clips, pony tail holders, head bands.
Missing pens, tons of pencils
A missing mini flashlight the girls have been fighting over who lost
A library book (great now we don't owe any money)
$1.62 in change (More than I get out of the wash)
Small little missing pieces to toys
1 puzzle piece

What's under your couch?

Dig to find surprises.

It only took 10 years of owning my own house to turn into my parents. Yes. I've officially turned into my parents.  I am preparing a garden bed along the side of my house.

First my husband used a rotter tiller to get rid of some grass (which is a nifty little machine considering my parents used to make us use a pick axe to dig up sod where they wanted to plant stuff...funny child labor laws come to mind again) and prepare the soil for the garden area. The hubby was nice enough to do this last Sunday for me (when the weather was nice).

The next day my dad came over with his bright red trailer full of wood chips for me. Obviously, this was a very nice gesture, but there is always paybacks for nice gesture. In return, I needed to keep the bright cherry red trailer parked at my place for awhile (I saw this coming before the trailer was even parked). But all is good, at least I didn't have to shovel the wood chips twice.

Now all I needed was a wheel barrel (technically I should have several wheel barrels, but since my husband loans out tools and equipment all the time to others, he doesn't get his stuff back ever). So I headed over to my father-in-laws house (only a mile down the road) and loaded up on a wheel barrel (probably one of my husbands anyway) and a big landscaping rake.

At this point it is Wednesday already and the weather wasn't cooperating (we went from summer temps of 80 degrees back to cool spring temps of 30/40 degrees) with me so I procrastinated. The weather wasn't motivating me at all. I needed to get this done so by Friday the weather really wasn't cooperating with me. It was drizzly, but I had to get it done before the weekend. So there I was out side in the 40 degree rain and mud digging my line for my garden and hauling wood chips all over my yard. I had to say it was kind of like the old times at my parents house until I started hitting roots.

Yes some very long roots. Again I am hacking down the line cutting these roots. It becomes like an assembling line just going down the line cutting, not thinking. I cut my last one and start pulling on it to get it out of the way. It gives way pretty easy, not like the other ones so I keep pulling and pulling. I'm thinking wow I could pull this one all the way to the big tree next door. Then it registers, this is not your normal root, it's black. Aw shit, I just cut the cable line.

Great so this is what procrastination gets me. The damage is already done so I don't even bother going inside. I just continue doing everything until I'm done. Then I drag myself soaked, muddy, sore-4 hour of hard labor body into the house to discover that the cable still works. Weird right? I have to say, it was for me.

According to the hubby, it must be an old cable line. It was buried pretty shallow anyway. Hopefully it wasn't any of the neighbor's cable. 

Process or Productive

Who came up with the process of doing hair?

To me, I feel that the process is backwards. First you wash your hair in the morning, put some kind of product (mouse, gel, hair spray) in your hair. Blow dry/curl/straighten/style, then your hair is ready for the day. At the end of the night, your hair is dirty from the day/night and all the product in it. Then you have to wash your hair again.

It's just not right. Being that I have curly/frizzy (depending on the weather) hair, I just pull my hair back a lot and skip the product. But there are those days/nights that I have to look like more than a mom, so I go through the routine. And I hate sleeping with product in my hair when I go to bed so I find myself washing my hair twice in one day. Very counter productive. 

Since I don't wash my hair everyday, I have to come up with a new routine. I think next time I'll wait for the third day of not washing my hair, get it wet and then apply the product. That way I will be able to wash out the product after the evening is done. I could be crazy, but I hope I'm not the only one that has this problem.

Oil vs Soap

Why is it when I get some kind of oily stain (bacon grease splatter, oil splatter, melted butter drip, sauce spillage) on my clothing it has to be a newer piece of clothing?

Usually I'm able to get these kind of stains out by rubbing dish soap into the stain before washing the piece of clothing (the soap usually has to be applied right away). Occasionally, one will slip by me and I wash before applying the special dish soap trick. With my luck, it ends up being a new shirt with the stain in an extremely obvious spot. Yes you guessed it. Just above my right breast. On the positive side, it was only the size of a penny.

My options are:

Option 1: Throw the piece of clothing out.
Option 2: Try washing it again.
Option 3: Wear the shirt and pretend the stain happened that day and you haven't been home to change. 

Yeah I went with Option 3. Why let a new shirt go to waste.

Fell Short

I know that running is self inflicted pain (the hubby constantly reminds me about this and he can't understand why I do it), but I continue to train for this half marathon. I now know that after ten miles it is all pain. There is no runners high, no in the zone, just plain pain for me. In the attempt to make it to 12 miles today, I fell short at 11.5 miles. Not bad, but I did have to stop at a gas station to get a cup of water and I ran out of steam going up a huge hill on the 11th mile. So my time wasn't exactly great. At the 11th mile, I actually contemplated whether there would be a chance to get an epidural while running (my favorite drug in world). Rationally I know this is impossible, but it crept into my mind none the less.

I'm trying not to complain about the weather, but man does it have to be 80 degrees. Not exactly prime temp for running a lot of miles. I planned the half marathon in April assuming the temps would be in the 50s (my favorite temp to run in). I actually avoid any races in the summer unless it is a triathlon (obviously because I get to swim).

Now I will have to rest my poor skin and bones for the rest of the afternoon until it is time to pick up the girls for their dentist appointments. Well at least it's not my dentist appointment.

Have a great day and enjoy the weather!

Running my Skin Off

I've actually never ran more than 8 miles before. Training for a half marathon has been interesting. I have to make it to 12 miles before the race in April. Since the weather has warmed up to highs of 70's this week, I was excited to venture on to my 10 mile run. I pulled out the shorts and baseball cap, a big change from the running pants, fleece, headband for my ears, and gloves. By the tenth mile, I'm feeling the pain in my feet. The blisters are forming on the inside of the ball of each foot, but I push on. Not until I get home do I realize how bad my shorts were rubbing against my inner thigh on one leg. Funny how the endorphins kick in and the pain doesn't show up until afterwards. I thought no big deal, I have a little chaffing going on until I take a look at all the chaffing going on. I had on the inside of both my arms where my shirt was rubbing against my skin, but the worst was on my one leg.

By the next day, my leg was scabbing over. My shorts had literally scrapped off the top layer of my skin. I couldn't even wear jeans. I had to wear soft material pants all day.

Note to self: No pain. No gain. That is after 10 miles.

I will be switching to new shorts for my 11 mile run.  

Dream Analysis

Everywhere is dark. My heart is beating so rapidly I'm disorientated. Realizing I'm in a room, but panic starts to set in. I don't know where I am, what day it is or what time it is?

Have you ever woken from a dream and felt like this?

Last night, I was startled awake during a battle in Scotland back in the 1700's where men still wore kilts on a daily basis and I was full of blood and danger was after me. Not sure if the blood was mine or someone else's, but I ached all over, muscles, bones even the hair on the top of my head. The deep seeded feeling of death lingered in the room as I realized I was still in the 21st century in my cozy bedroom at 2:00 am in the morning. Relieved, I still had access to a washer and dryer because I never want to have to do laundry by hand without running water.

Okay so this dream was brought on by a book I just finished that took place during the 1700's in Scotland that involved time travel (I really enjoyed the book). Definitely a lot of action in packed fighting that went on. Now the soreness comes from running ten miles the day before (part of my training for my half marathon I'm running in April). And the blood, well...(Warning: All men skip to the next paragraph)...that's just the regular unwanted friend who decides to visit every month. My dreams tend to become more vivid during this kind of visitation.

It always amazes me how real dreams can feel. The impact stays with me for several days afterward. Weird how our brains can play tricks on reality.

Well enjoy the good weather!

Unforeseen Talent

What is a four letter word that starts with an "S" and ends with a "T"?

On Saturday, Child #1 had team pictures before her basketball game. In order to prepare for the waiting around, I allow all three kids to bring their DS's (which I have to admit helps tremendously with keeping them out of trouble). I finally get everyone situated when all of a sudden Child #2 sneezes. I've never seen so much snot in my life just hanging half way down Child #2's face. I'm mean it was just suspended there. Really just hanging, too much to suck back in or just wipe with the good old sleeve. At least it was as clear as water and not that yellow or green color.

Now that I've grossed you out. Sorry, I digress. After my moment of awe, I realized I needed to help her. Of course, I start laughing, but I quickly herd her into the bathroom and get some toilet paper. Not one drop on the floor. Now that's talent. I'm not sure how many people saw the incident, but it would've been traumatic for the average bystander except for me I couldn't stop laughing. I didn't want to make Child #2 embarrassed so laughing was better than saying how gross it was. She thought it was funny after I got her all cleaned up. We had a good chuckle together. 

Some might say "Shit Happens" but sometimes "Snot Happens."

Unknown Bottle Contents

The funny thing about questions are you never know what you're going to get (like a box of chocolates). My favorite question starts out with "What was in that bottle of..." The surprising thing about this time it wasn't coming from my children, it was coming from my husband.

Stop. Rewind 10 years. When we bought our house, we were going to replace the front window with a nice bay window. Now that has turned into me just wanting any kind of window with crank outs. Since we all know the old saying "if it ain't broken, don't fix it," well that's my husband's favorite philosophy. While I've been waiting for the new window (don't mind my grey hair by the time the new window's installed), I haven't bought any new window treatments. I didn't want to spend any money until we got a new window. Logical, right?

Anyway, the house came with blinds and curtains, which have weathered a crazy dog and three rambunctious children.  The curtains were ripped out of the wall too many times to repair so we eliminated those last year.

Four days ago the pull string broke on one set of blinds.

Two days ago, the pull string broke on the other set of blinds. So I found cheap blinds at Walmart for $11 each (not bad for temporary blinds for another 10 years while I wait for a new window).

Now for instillation. How long will it be before the hubby hangs up the new ones (not too bad only two days). While I was playing taxi, the hubby was hanging the new blinds (he did a great job). We meet up at a basketball game and the infamous question is asked, "What was in the bottle of Windex under the sink?"

My first initial response would've been Windex, but I ponder the question for a moment. Before I can tell him, I break out laughing. I made a mixture of water and Oxiclean in an old bottle of Windex so I could get some stains out of the carpet (works great). The thought is what counts. He washed the outside and inside of the window with Oxiclean.

His response, "Well that makes sense. I kept spraying and scrubbing and I couldn't get the streaks off the window."

When we got home, the window was covered in a cloudy white film. The real bottle of Windex cleared it right up.

Paybacks a...

When I was working the normal 8 to 5 grind, it was extremely difficult to get all three children out the door by 7:15 am. Now you can image waking up three tired children all under the ages of six to feed, dress, pack and get into the car. You name it, I've done it. Begged, pleaded, threatened, yelled and maybe even pushed a little to get them going. Not to mention, I did this every morning by myself for six years.

On the flip side, my kids can get up leisurely now. Waking naturally and blissfully from their full night sleep. Considering the bus doesn't pick them up until 8:55am, they have all the time in the world. In a perfect world, you'd think there would be no temper tantrums, fits, whining, crying, yelling, fighting in or around our house. It should be all green meadows, daisy picking and sunshine filled mornings. Right? Well I hate to break the news to you all, there is no perfect world.

I would like to share this morning's last five minutes before the bus picked my kids up. This does not include any breakdowns within the house.

Child #1 yells (more like screams so the whole neighborhood can hear her) at Child #2.
Child #2 starts crying.
Child #2 hauls off and kicks Child #1 (my kids play soccer) in the shin. (It was a good kick).
Child #1 starts crying.
At this time, I've not said a word. I'm just minding my own business on the porch.
Child #1 hauls off and kicks Child #2 (Good force behind that one).
Now both are crying and yelling at each other.
I tell them they are both grounded tonight. Banned from technology.
Suddenly, they're both coming toward me yelling at me on how I should've handled the situation. The volume on both children hasn't changed from their outside voices. And I find myself in the middle of a war zone. Sucked in by an eight and seven year old.
Meanwhile Child #3 is innocently waiting for the bus at the end of the driveway.
The bus comes and the neighborhood is peaceful again.

Well, I hope my neighbors were entertained. I enjoyed the part when they got on the bus to go to school.

Monkeying Around

After the little ducklings get on the bus to school, I usually start a load of laundry do the dishes and then go workout. I know it's a hard life I lead, but someone has to do it. Well lately I've noticed Child #3 leaving her Monkey George (that's what we call Curious George) around the house, which she has always done. Recently, the difference has been Monkey George wearing a dress or Monkey George swaddled in her favorite blanket or Monkey George with a bib on. Oddly enough I find myself searching for Monkey George every school morning just to see what he is wearing or what position he is left in. Maybe I've gone off the deep end, but I'm still not ready to go back into the workforce so I will continue indulging in my hobby of writing.

Life as a kept woman.

I've turned into everything I expressed greatly as a child I wouldn't become. Oddly, I'm okay with it. A lot of my view points as a kid came from watching Lifetime movies (Hey, I'm not the only one out there that had this experience). I knew I was never going to have children because I never wanted one to be kidnapped, raped or killed. Then I was never going to be an at home mom (considering I wasn't going to have children) so my husband could walk out on me leaving me with no money and children to take care of. With a little of influence from Working Girl, I was always going to work and make my own money.  So the future entailed me getting a business degree (completed) and working my way through the corporate ladder (fourteen years experience in the business world completed).

As you all know, I ended up married to a man I could never replace and three beautiful children I just pray I won't screw up.

So the moral of the story is that you can never plan your life. You can make plans, but implementing the plan might not always come to fruition. I'm enjoying my little house on the lake and being the at home mom I never was going to be and happier than I ever been.

Now this doesn't mean I actually like doing housework (I despise it, but I would have to do it whether I worked or not) or homework with my kids (I feel the homework is not for the kids as much as it's for the parents) or volunteering at school (other children aren't my cup of tea) or grocery shopping (well there's more to the list, but I don't want to bore you), but I enjoy the freedom it gives me to enjoy life with my kids that I probably would've missed if I continued on the corporate ladder. Not to mention indulging in several hobbies I would've never dreamed of.

Here's to everything happens for a reason!

Death defying Vacation...

So we are back from our annual winter adult only vacation. No matter where we go, we always have a great time. Sometimes it comes out in forms of immaturity, as in, before having children or just complete stupidity, but it always leads to a funny story afterwards. We went to Cancun, Mexico this year. It is one of the cheaper destinations so we thought we would try it out. We've been to the Rivera Maya, which is nice (they have great golf carts that you can borrow to get around some of the resorts...well...maybe that's not for everyone), but we were trying to be a little budget conscience this year. So we take the plunge to try it out.

The beach has at least ten miles of sand to walk on. The ocean is beautiful and fun to swim in if you're a strong swimmer. Cancun is extremely commercialized so if you like shopping this is the place for you shopaholics. Since we had arrive, we heard nothing but good things about taking the local bus to different places down the hotel strip. One of the buses was labeled for going to one of the markets (like a flea market). I thought, that's where I want to go. It was only 85 pesos or about 75 cents per person. Of course, the picture I have in my head is something like when I was a little girl and my parents would take us down to Tijuana for the day to do some shopping (This wasn't probably all that safe 25 years ago. I am almost positive it's not safe now to go to Tijuana, but on my parents behave, they both speak Spanish. Even though at eight years old, I knew a little blond white girl, even with being tan, wasn't safe. I stuck close to my parents and I always kept a close eye on the other eyes watching me. I learned a lot from these experiences--always knowing the proximity of people near me, understanding I have a dead on gut feeling, and possibly my wild imagination was developed during this time.)

For me, the objective was to find something that was locally hand crafted. No problem finding a bus stop (they're everywhere). We hop on and get into looking at all the other hotels down the strip, comparing the sizes and the newness of each. After twenty minutes, the hotels start turning into more of a city. There's gas stations, fast food restaurants and some local color. We must be getting close, right? I feel a tap on my shoulder, the local says you should get off here at Walmart, you shouldn't go any further. The hubby and I look at each other and jump up exiting the bus. Now we have no clue where we are. I want to know where the market is. There's a few other tourist, but mostly locals. We follow the other tourist across the street to Walmart. I definitely don't want to go into Walmart so we ask some others where the market is and they say we passed the market. Now what do we do? Get back on the bus going back up or try to walk it? Nah we ask the local guy trying to sell excursions and time shares (now if you've ever been to Mexico, you know what kind of guy this is). He pulls us into his booth and tries to get us to go to one of the hotels to sell a time share. He tells us the market is only six blocks up, but he can take us to this new hotel, we go through the tour, then he will drop us off at the market. We politely decline (like a hundred times) and walk away. It can't be that far right, six blocks is nothing we can walk it. So we start walking.

After several blocks we start our adventure to the market. As each block passes, we notice the pedestrians becoming less tourist-like and more local-like. The buildings are becoming more shabby and tall stucco walls surround some of the places of business. Suddenly, across three lanes of traffic a bus opens its doors and the driver asks if we want to get in and is repetitively waving his arm for us to get on. We both shrug our shoulders and cross traffic to get on the bus.

When we get on the bus, there is another couple that are tourist too. We ask them if they know where the market is. They tell us they've been on the bus for an hour trying to find this market (Thank God, we're not the only stupid tourists around). The local was right to tell us to get off.  They rode the bus the whole way downtown. Apparently, it wasn't a place for any tourists.

Through this whole ordeal not once did I feel panic or feel we were in danger, but I could feel my hubby becoming very uncomfortable. When you're six feet tall, it's kind of hard to blend in.

Heading back down the hotel strip, we get off at one of the bus stops near one of the older malls. The other couple have a map showing the flea market somewhere close to this place. So we all trek through the mall and out the other side. We pass some more plaza shops and finally we make it to the market. Except this isn't exactly quite like I picture it. All it is is a bunch of t-shirt shops in a building. Not what I was looking for.

Of course, the first vendor tells us only $1 for each t-shirt. We get pulled in and start picking out shirts. Then the tune turns to $1 dollar off. I put back all the shirts and my hubby wants to know how much for the shirts. He likes playing the haggling price game. I just walk out and go down a few shops thinking he will follow me. I take a look at a few purses and bags. Then I realize he didn't follow me. I can't see him at the other shop. Where is he? I look back, then look ahead of me. He's nowhere. Now the panic starts to settle in. One of the vendors says your husband up ahead pointing to another shop ahead and says inside (all the crazy alarms are going off in my head). I step forward to look into the shop, but I don't see him and I don't go in. I see the other couple we were with up ahead and I don't see him. So I head back to the first shop and my hubby steps out. Phew, the relief comes back. We skip the rest of the place and catch up with the other couple. Neither one of us wanted to stick around. We walked passed another older mall and found a bus stop and hopped on.

Now I have a pretty wild imagination, but I'm sure you all have your own version of what could've happened there at the market. Please make note there is not market in Cancun. Stick to the lady selling things at your hotel.

I think Mexico is going to have to do without us for awhile.

Wet Paint

"Don't touch the wall. I just painted it."

"Don't touch the wall." In a monotone voice.

"Don't touch the wall." In a sing song voice.

"Don't touch the wall." In a firm parent voice.

If you touch that wall, your butt is grounded."In the ultimate threatening voice.

Child #3 (who is only 5 years old) replies, "So my butt will be the only part grounded?" Followed by giggles.

What a smart ass!