We all scream...

Last week the boys and I toured a local ice cream factory where I tried out Alex's monkey on his back. Which it is, he believes.

The thing actually did work and wasn't too uncomfortable for anyone (except I still felt like the bad mom. Did I mention there were moms there with three and four kids and not a monkey in sight?)

Here are a few pics, and also some of later in the day, since apparently there's no cap on the amount of chocolate ice cream my boys are allowed in a day.

Seriously, you need to take the plunge

Every now and then my real-life friends and I talk about what's on my blog, maybe they have a comment on a post (which I suppose they prefer to tell me in person rather than sending me some comment luuuuv...)

Anyway, I've heard several of them say, in the same far-off way one talks about about taking a 7-day cruise to the Bahamas, "I've thought about starting a blog..." My reaction is always the same: WHY DON'T YOU? The fun thing about blogging is that it can be whatever you want it to be. You can keep it private or tell your friends and family. You can tell only your friends and family or you can (attempt to) invite the world to join you.

That's quite a long intro for telling you about a site that will get you going one way or another: Blogging Basics 101. It's authored by my very talented friend Melanie at Don't Try This at Home and Bloggy Giveaways and it's one online blogging source that will truly tell you everything you need to know to get started and continue to develop your blog.

And the beauty of the site? It's easy to read but so thorough it may be the only blogging resource you'll ever need. And Melanie scours other online blogging resources, too, and passes helpful info on to her readers. For us novice bloggers, she keeps her information basic but thorough and doesn't crowd it with a lot of techo-babble. Although she has that on the site, too, the brainiac.

So if you're considering starting a blog, or if you're new to the blogging world, bookmark BB 101 now. Specifically this section. Happy blogging!

Nightmares are a small price to pay for security

You may remember my almost-three-year-old Alex has a thing about fleeing from the safety of my side, not once, but two terrifying times.

Since we have a trip to Six Flags planned in a few weeks, I told Pete I'm not stepping foot out the door without something to keep him from helping himself to an escalator or a log ride.

So today I found this at Target:


He had the choice (as if that's going to help him love being on a leash) of a puppy or a monkey and he chose the monkey. I hate monkeys, ever since I was in high school and one of my friends let me watch a very graphic real-life movie. I will spare you the details but in the video there was a monkey who met a rather morose demise by way of hammer. Every time I see a monkey I think of that horrible scene and how that my friend's parents were losers because I had nightmares for a long time after that.

Anyway, he chose the monkey and now I get to have nightmares some more in order to keep him safe.

(tap, tap, tap....ewwwww!)

I love this country!

Here's what 7:00 a.m. looked like this morning.



And 10:00 a.m.

As Alex so insightfully put this morning: "Happy Fourth of Jul-live!"

Amen, Alex. Amen.

Stars and Stripes Cookies

In my next life I'd like to come back as a chef in the baking department of the Food Network kitchens. Imagine getting to do nothing but test recipes in a gigantic kitchen with a gigantic island, with gigantic trash cans that get emptied by someone else. And all the ingredients would be in giant resealable boxes instead of rolled up in their bags and sealed with a clothespin.

I'd also get to work with cool people like Gale Gand and Sandra Lee and other celebrity chefs that really don't do anything but show up and put the ingredients together. Who do you think measures out all their ingredients and chops all their vegetables into perfect little squares? Some underpaid sous chef who merely aspires to empty their trash, I suspect.

Anyway, what does all that rambling have to do with the title of this post? Well, it's not even Christmas and I'm making sugar cookies today! Red, white, and blue sugar cookies. Once a year is way too little to whip up a batch of Royal Icing and let it work its magic, so I'm doing it today.

And why, you may wonder, am I blogging this now when I don't have anything to show for it? Who really knows. I'm just so excited at the prospect of edible stars and circles in patriotic colors I can't even stand it.

No, I don't really have time to do it. But lately I've tried to stop saying that because I think it's about what you choose to do with the time you have. So instead of saying "I don't have time" I say "I didn't make time for that..." Try it, it's liberating.

But you can bet today I'm makin' me some time for patriotic sugar cookies. Check back tomorrow for the results!

WFMW: Two Five-Ingredient Recipes

Today's Works for Me Wednesday is a themed affair: recipes requiring five ingredients or less. My gosh, I hope Shannon never takes that post down; I could just start from the beginning of the 368 posts (at the time I'm writing this) and make a cookbook.

I thumbed through my recipes and found these two gems. They're both easy and family-pleasing. They're both the required five ingredients or less (minus the salt and pepper). They're both pretty cheap to make.

But there's one glaring difference: one wears angel wings and the other you will hate me for if you're currently dieting. No mystery which one is which:

Chicken Breast with Honey-Balsamic Glaze

From: Weight Watchers; 4 points

1 1/2 t. dried thyme

1/2 t. salt

1/4 t. black pepper

1 t. olive oil

1 pound uncooked boneless, skinless chicken breast, four 4-oz. pieces

2 T. balsamic vinegar

2 T. honey

Combine the first three ingredients; sprinkle over both sides of chicken.

Heat oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add chicken, cook 7 to 8 minutes on each side or until chicken is done.

Transfer chicken to a platter; keep warm. Reduce heat to medium-low; add vinegar and honey to pan. Simmer one minute or until glaze thickens; stir constantly. Pour glaze over chicken. Makes four servings. Really good served with rice.

Almost Candy Bars

From: A mom friend who brought these on our Branson trip. To. Die. For.

1 box devil's food cake mix

1 stick butter

1 bag chocolate chips (milk chocolate or semi-sweet)

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 c. chopped nuts

Blend butter and cake mix together until crumbly. Press into bottom of a jelly roll pan. Sprinkle chocolate chips and nuts evenly over the top. Drizzle the sweetened condensed milk over the top. Bake at 350 degrees for about 20 minutes or until everything looks melty. You'll know! Remove from oven; let cool and cut into small squares. Makes a lot but not enough!

A new bloggy outfit

Notice anything different? Woo-hoo! After two years I've finally changed into a new bloggy ensemble. You like? I hope so, could be another two years before I change again.

Thanks to Christy at Be Design for getting me into my new diggs. I thought this would take a couple of weeks to accomplish but my word that girl is fast!

Ya'll have a good day before the day before the day before the Fourth!

@#!$%^~! Camcorder

Let's just say our camcorder isn't getting any warm fuzzies from Pete and I lately. When we tried to play back some of our movies, it CRUNCHED up the tapes, making it impossible to play or even rewind. Mickey's end of school play where he's staring into space could be lost forever!

So we could be in the market for a new camcorder pretty soon. I'm a little stupified by all the choices out there. Does anyone have any tips on buying one? We probably don't want something fancy but I don't want to have to buy a new one in a year. And I'm confused on the recording devices: some of them use mini-CDs or something? Our current recorder uses those little fat cassettes that we have to insert into (horrors!) a VHS tape in order to play on our TV.

Pleeease, isn't there a better way? What kind of camcorder do you have? Would you buy it again? What do you like or not like about it? I know someone out there can enlighten me!

Taking my son to T-ball is a paying job

I filled in for Pete tonight at Mickey's last T-ball game (which isn't really a game since they're just learning fundamentals such as baselines are straight and not squiggly). Anyway, I told Mickey he would have to tell me what to do since I hadn't been there with him before, and he was very happy to give me instructions here and there.

I didn't expect the following bonuses, all while the very patient coach chirped his whistle and barked instructions to the team:

"Mom, the bases are the same color as cupcake batter."

"How did your hands get so big?"

"I'm glad Daddy's out of town so I get to spend time just with you. Then tomorrow I can spend time just with Daddy." (Yeah, that one just confused me.)

There was also the bonus of seeing true joy on my son's face for 45 minutes solid.

The bonus of seeing him tell another boy "good job."

The bonus of having him run and jump into my arms about six times.

The bonus of my very hectic week being forgotten for a while.


I believe Pete can call me to sub anytime.

Overheard: a thing or two to learn

This morning at Vacation Bible School there was a plea to the children to bring "Pennies from Heaven" to donate to our church's charity.

So I asked Mickey if he would like to gather some pennies to bring for donating. I got the following:

"Oh, yes, Mamma. I have lots of money I don't want. I have lots and lots and lots of coins that are getting old and I need to give them away. But I don't have a lot of pennies. I have some nickels and dimes I don't want..."

"Okay, that sounds good."

"I have some dollars but I need to keep them."

"Oh, why do you need to keep them?"

"Because Daddy might need them. I love Daddy..."

A sign I truly need to lighten up

For several years, I have been drooling over beautiful bonded leather photo album from a store who makes, uh, really beautiful bonded leather photo albums. And other beautiful things. Beautifully. Anyway, this particular beautiful item is designed specially for Christmas photos. There's a choice of deep red or rich green. Smoooooth leather...I can just feel it. And I can imagine it being in my family for fifty years and Mickey and Alex fighting over who gets it when I die.

But one thing, and one thing only, has kept me from pulling the trigger and buying it:


The front of the album is preprinted with the phrase "Christmas Thru the Years."

THRU. TEE-AYTCH-ARR-YOU

How hard would it have been to just add three teeny-weeny letters to spell it correctly? They tell me it's worth $75 and then they take a horrifying shortcut with "through"?! I can't do it, I just can't. I would truly need some sort of sedative every time I looked at it.

So I guess my priceless Christmas photos will have to live in a plain 'ol fifteen-dollar album from Target. Without any spelling errors whatsoever.

Maybe Mickey and Alex will find something else to fight over.

Finally from Alex, a pleasant surprise (you owed me, dude!)

Pretend I've made all my excuses for not posting.

Pretend I've already gotten a bazillion comments from you saying "it's okay," and "don't worry, we know you get busy." (Also pretend you remember how to post comments.)

Pretend I've already said I'll try to post more but this working 11-that-feels-like-eighty hours a week while trying to find my lost son is causing me to slip into bed exhausted every night but not too exhausted to read four and a half pages of Harry Potter IV before I fall asleep.

Pretend all that. Then read on:

Maybe one reason Alex felt so independent at Big Waterpark the other day was because we converted his crib into a toddler bed a week ago. At almost three years old, I figured he was approaching old enough. And also I finally located the crib hardware that I haven't seen in four+ years.

I was prepared for many late nights trying to keep him from utilizing the freedom we finally gave him. I was prepared to walk him back to his bed fifty or so times every night until he collapsed from the battle. I was prepared to threaten, cajole, reward and bribe him to stay in his bed (none of which actually worked with Mickey, by the way).

Turns out that preparation was for naught: the boy has yet to get out of bed one time.

Oh, he asked all right: about 30 seconds after we laid him down the first night we heard "Can I get out now?" Beyond that, and "I need my blanket" and "Can you close my door?" this has been the least stressful thing I have done as a parent so far.

And once again it has reminded me that my kids are, indeed, two different people.

Here we go with pics:

Just before the transformation.

You'd think there's only one step involved here.

Nope, breaking down a prison wall seems to take precision work.

And a two-year-old on your back.

Almost looks like a picture frame for sleeping!

Made it through the first night unscathed (until Mickey crawled over him in the morning to share a snooze).

Five minutes I never want to relive

Today I took Alex and Mickey to Big Waterpark near our house. We were having a great time: first time the boys have been this summer, we saw some friends there, great weather.

And then a black cloud formed over my head.

And I lost Alex for five agonizing minutes.

I don't know how long it was really. Long enough for me to ask four lifeguards and two inquiring moms to help me find him. Long enough for me to venture to two other pools dragging poor Mickey behind me (who had the nerve to ask if he could swim while I went to look for Alex).

And long enough for Mickey to wander over to the deposit pools of two large water slides, probably 50 yards and many obstacles away from me. A swimmer noticed he was alone and ushered him to a lifeguard. By the time I laid eyes on him his lifeguard entourage had grown to three.

Mickey broke away from me and ran to him; when I got there Alex looked up at me and says simply "hi, Mamma." I'd stopped gasping by then and I mustered "hi, Alex." The guy who looked like he was in charge of lost children and loster parents told me it was a good thing I had a lifejacket on him as a lot of kids his age wander the park without them. Thank you for making me begin gasping again...

I gathered him and Mickey up and we made our way back to the little pool and I tried to explain to Alex what he'd done. Didn't exactly have much impact; I got a big grin and "I wanna swim."

The silver lining to this black cloud? I was not rooted to the ground in fear. I did not panic. Okay, maybe there was a tad bit of hyperventilating, but instead of praying aloud and doing nothing I prayed to myself as I was asking people for help. Who, in my opinion, were answers to my prayers in themselves.

I always knew there was hope...

Oh, a couple of pics I took before Alex's joywalk. I believe he was plotting his escape here:


...and good-natured Mickey, who assessed the situation with his usual "...ooooh, this is not good..."

The test I failed

Saturday night Pete and I ventured to a little known first-run movie theater to see Indiana Jones. Little known, I say, because when we arrived at theatre #4 there were only four other people there, 10 minutes before showtime.

Pete announced he was going to the restroom before the movie started, so I settled our drinks and snacks and myself into a chair in the dim light. At that point I became aware of one of the other four people on her cell phone, obviously speaking to 911 (interesting how we refer to "911" like it's a person). I stood up and turned around to see another woman lying back in her chair, her husband hunched over her. The woman on the phone was with her husband, also.

The sick woman's husband was relaying information to the woman on the phone:

"36"
"She's unresponsive but awake. Lethargic."
"...seizure..."

At that point I didn't know what to do. A minuted ticked by: the woman on the phone continued to give instructions to the husband. "EMSA is on its way..." she said.

I think I turned back around to face the front again; still unsure what to do. There were two people helping her already and someone on the phone to 911. I have no medical experience whatsoever. I might be in the way. I might confuse the woman on the phone by asking if I could help. I might interrupt the relay of information to the husband.

So I did the only thing I could do without risking any of those things: I started praying. Aloud. And probably hyperventilating just a little. And wondering why Pete had chosen now to pitch a tent in the restroom.

Then I heard a voice say "Can I help?" I turned back around and saw a third person. "Yes," said the woman on the phone. "Get her on the floor on her back and elevate her head."

With the help of the other man, the husband lowered her to the floor. Said the woman on the phone: "Don't put your fingers or anything else in her mouth; she may bite you." Then the sick woman, now on the floor, began thrashing and tensing and moaning very loudly. I believe I started praying even more loudly at this point, my feet still rooted to the floor.

Then silence from the woman on the floor. The woman on the phone says "she probably can't breathe; you have to keep her calm." The new man says "breathe, you're okay, just breathe..."

About that time six or so emergency personnel barreled into the theatre and took over. I breathed a sigh of relief and the woman on the phone walked toward me with her husband. I could see she was sweating and shaking and I told her what an awesome thing she had just done. She said she'd offered to make the call when the woman's husband told her he didn't have a cell phone.

At that point Pete walked up behind me and I started talking a mile a minute..."she had a seizure, where were you, she wasn't breathing, I didn't know what to do..."

He nodded and said "I know, I know..." like he was familiar with people with seizures. "Who do you know who has seizures?" "No one," he says, "I was down there helping her."

HUH!?

Pete was the person who asked if he could help.

Pete was the person who helped lower her to the floor and held her head in his lap.

Pete was the person encouraging her to relax and breathe.

And I was the person whose feet were made of lead.

And I didn't recognize my own husband or his voice two rows away from me.

So the ambulance took the woman away and three minutes later I was oogling Harrison Ford in a Fedora. Life resumed pretty quickly (for us anyway).

Yet part of me sat bumfuzzled by what had just happened. What was it that kept me from offering my help to that woman, yet made it so easy for Pete to jump in the middle of the situation?

Later we talked about it and even laughed. Don't anyone have a medical emergency when Christine's around...best you'll get is a prayer for someone else to help you.

I guess I always thought myself just the opposite type of person. The type to help when I'm needed, the type to take action when it's critical. I remember a recent story about a man who was hit by a car and while he lay in the street onlookers passed him by without helping. "That would never be me..." I said to myself.

Well, it was me. Embarrassingly, it was.

And the only thing I'm proud of right now is that I married someone who has the quality I wish I had.

Five Things

I know you really, really have better things to do than learn five (or 30?!) new things about me. But hey, since it's Friday you probably need something to pass the afternoon, so here ya go. Thanks to Straight Shooter for the diversion:

Five things I was doing ten years ago:

1. Falling in love with Florida beaches.
2. Making bad relationship choices.
3. Buying my first house (NOT a bad choice).
4. Perfecting my lightening quick Alt+tab to switch from web surfing to work.
5. Blogging before blogging. On paper. Let me know if you'd like to check out a volume or two.

Five things on my to-do list today:

1. Take the boys to have pictures taken in their patriotic T-shirts and Levi's shorts and no shoes.
2. Savor the time they're both napping. And savor the time when they wake up and both climb onto my lap in my shrinking rocking chair.
3. Blog.
4. Water my new landscaping (pics in a future post) while praying nothing dies.
5. Load Alex into the jogging stroller and walk around the neighborhood; no longer be jealous of neighbors' landscaping.

Five things I would do if I were a billionaire

1. Set up a fund for working mothers with preschoolers so they could stay home at least until their kids are in school.
2. Build my mother a lodge with sleeping rooms and a kitchen and a big room for gatherings so she could entertain her family comfortably. I guess that would be a hotel. Okay, build Mom a hotel.
3. Take my family on a cruise once a year for the rest of our lives.
4. Hire someone to clean my bathrooms and mop my floor.
5. Reserve Disney World for a week. For my whole family and Pete's family. Then let me stay home and have the house to myself.

Five of my bad habits

1. Rewarding with M&Ms, my kids AND myself.
2. Gossiping, but you didn't hear it from me.
3. Reading blogs when I should be blogging.
4. Blogging when I should be cleaning house.
5. Cleaning house when...no, I should always be cleaning house.

Five places I have lived

1. Muskogee
2. Tahlequah
3. Tulsa
4. Upstairs
5. Downstairs

Five jobs I've had

1. Babysitter starting at about 12 years old. Although NOTHING could have prepared me for parenthood.
2. Clerk in a golf pro shop.
3. Christmas help at gigantic mall in town. Pure hell.
4. Various writing jobs.
5. Mom.

There ya' go...now as I've told you before: wake up and get back to work!

A powerful video

Jenny at One Thing, a beach-lovin' mom of 12 (TWELVE) unearthed this video about our continuous struggle to walk with The Lord in life. I'm not usually one to seek out this kind of drama and I had my doubts when I first started watching it.

And afterward I realized it is something I had to share.

(It's a little graphic so watch it yourself before you decide to let your kids see it.)

Kohl's has FREE Water Watcher cards

I happened to be in Kohl's the other day...the nearest one is about 10 miles away so I really, really, really have to want to be there. The 30% off everything-even-sale-and-clearance coupon I got in the mail went a long way to make me feel that way.

Anyway, amid my shoppin frenzy I saw these. For FREE.


It's called a Water Watcher card. It's for owners of private pools and it's for that person who usually says "I'm watching them..." referring to a bunch of swimming kids. Then when that person gets up and moves away from the water he or she can pass the lanyard to someone else, so there's always someone to be a designated Watcher.

Summer is my favorite time of year but with a two and four year old who are not afraid of anything (yet) it would give me comfort to see one of these at the private pools we sometimes visit (don't worry, Grandma, I'm bringing you one).

So get to Kohl's before they run out and grab one for a friend even if you don't have a pool. Help ensure the safety of yours and other kids.

Oh, and for some good water safety information, go here.

That is all.

The new job and other stuff

Whew! What a week last week. Here I thought working two days a week wouldn't be so difficult; after all, many moms work 40 or 50 and they survive just fine. I worked at the boys' school a grand total of ten hours and let's just say I didn't quite plan for it. To cut to the chase: my Tylenol bottle's a little lighter but I'm going back for more because my class of 13 three-year-old's is so dang cute.

To add to the fun of starting a job, I figured what the heck: I'm going to have my first garage sale. Ever. And invite 8 or 9 friends to bring their stuff, too.

Pete had mercy on me and took the boys to Grandma and Grandpa's for the night so I could root through his stuff to see what to sell. I didn't make a fortune, far from it, but have quite a flip-flop tan to show for it.

Here are a few gems that found new and loving homes over the weekend (none of them were mine thankyouverymuch):

I guess the owner got his answer and no longer felt the need to keep the Evangecube.

Just as scary in person.

So was this.

Saw a few kids wander by this and just stare.

Something a little creepy about this display. Never found out what kind of animal that was.

Sadly, no one was Jonesin' Saturday.

And as a bonus, my friend G saw fit to break out her collection of wigs for the occasion. I understand this is somewhat of a habit with her, or maybe even an addiction? Lots. Of. People. Must. Dress. In. Wigs.

Here she is as an apparently normal and very cute mother of four beautiful and well-adjusted children. At least until they find her collection of wigs.

...and after her, uh, transformation into her alter-ego, Mrs. Kintner from Jaws.

What I learned this week (without even trying)

(and "this week" meaning since I last posted which was, whaddya know...a week ago!)

1. I learned that winds of 75 miles an hour are enough to take out our electricity for a day and night. I also learned our friends were on vacation on the east coast and left their house unattended. With a heated pool in the backyard. Silly friends...

2. No school for a week and no planned activities for the kids add up to no blogging.

3. Lists posts are good because you don't have to link sentences, which requires concentration, which I have little of this morning.

4. ...because I'm starting a new job today! At the boys' school. I'm slightly nervous because a new job's a new job, even if it's the polar opposite of what I used to do. Which is write. (Pay no attention to the current illustration of that skill.)

5. My husband is the sweetest man on earth for letting me go here in July. I wonder if he realizes it's overnight. Three overnights. Shhh, don't tell him.

If you ever watched "Titanic," watch this. Now.

Thanks, Everyday Mommy. It could happen, right?! Maybe? Could be a chance? Even a small one? Teensy weensy?

Drat.

But have fun with the possibility.

(eensy-weensy, itty-bitty chance?)

My boy the swinger

I'll try not to make a big deal out of this. I'll try not to get all mushy and dramatic. I won't pretend this milestone is as big as a graduation, or a homerun in the final inning of a state championship, or your daughter's wedding.

But.

Last week Mickey swung himself on a park swing. HIMSELF. For years I've heard non-stop: "Push me Mamma, higher!! To the trees! I want to touch that cloud! Push me! Push me higher!"

But last week I only pushed him one time and 15 minutes he was still going strong. Poor woman with her child next to me must have thought I was getting ready to throw him a party. Or cry.

Guess it's a little too late on that making a big deal thing...

What's in my car?

Shannon over at Rocks in My Dryer confessed to this inventory of items her husband recently found when cleaning out their car. She's asking the rest of us to chime in with our lists, I think to find extra things to add to hers (really, Shannon, I believe you have enough stuff!)

So here's my list. No need for soft music or a pillow:

sticker saying "I helped Firefighters help Jerry's Kids"

15 CDs

slippers (never know when I might need to run into Safeway)

bath towel

paper sack full of giveaway shoes

stroller

OSU blanket

3 flash cards

picture of father-in-law taken in 1955

2 yogurt bars, some pretzels, animal crackers in a baggie

diaper bag

sippy cup

box of Kleenexes

carseat manual

dashboard card from Edgewater Beach Resort where we vacationed in 2004

small basketball

4 pairs of sunglasses

dinosaur craft made with toothpicks, popcorn kernels, and popsicle sticks

sucker stick

3 cupholders for carseats (never been attached, also peculiar since I only have two carseats)

2 Happy Meal toys

Hey!! Wake-up!! Your boss can see your sleeping reflection in your computer!!

That's why they call it a snapshot, huh.

I took this picture of Alex and his butterfly puzzle the other day (thank you Aunt M!). At first glance I thought the picture wasn't really that special.

Then I think of how little Alex pays attention to me when I'm asking him to be still for a picture. He just looks at me like I'm speaking Chinese and goes about his business.

I guess that's why pictures like this mean a lot to me, if no one else, because I can remember how fleeting the image was. I thought...wow, I can't believe I got that shot in spite of Alex's squirminess and the (frustrating-to-the-point-of-wanting-to-hurl-it-into-the-street) delay on my point-and-shoot camera. And I didn't even ask him to put that puzzle up to his face and make sure he could see me so I could see his eyes.

Now I'd love to have some swirly ending to tie this post up, but it's escaping me right now. So settle for this please:

Jekyll and Mom

Lately I feel like I am torn. Seems like one minute a thought pops into my head and the next day the complete opposite thought takes its place. Sometimes the very next minute:

Alex, when are you going to get potty-trained?!
Ooooh, I'm going to miss hearing that swish-swish sound of your diaper!

Boys!! No jumping on the bed/sofa/chair/brick wall outside!!
Oh, my...I'm so thankful I have healthy boys.

Pete, seriously, pots and pans go on the BOTTOM RACK of the dishwasher.
How lucky am I to have a husband who loads the dishwasher?

I'm so glad I don't have to dress for an office job anymore.
Why did all my clothes sneak out of my closet and run away on the day I quit?

Ugh, it is so friggin' hot outside and it's only May.

Yay! Early summer!

This blog is a waste of time. Why, anyway?

I am, therefore I write. (Ewwwww!)

If I had an office job I wouldn't be in the kitchen so much and I wouldn't eat so much.

I'm so glad I work at home and don't have to eat out so much.

I really wish I could eat out.

I'm so glad I don't have to eat out so much anymore.
Dang, I wish I could get someone to serve me a meal.

Maybe I really need to get a little clarity on that last one.

The next big thing: you heard it here first

Today I took the boys to the library, only Alex has an interesting way of pronouncing it. The more I hear him say it the more I think I'm getting ready to open a business:

THE LIBREWERY
Come cry in your beer AND a good book.

or

Home of the well-read bartender.

or

Borrow a book, keep the beer.

or

The place to drink alone with others.

What's your idea for a slogan? (No prizes. Puh-leeze!)

Birthday in the country

We celebrated my niece's ninth birthday last weekend. The niece that wasn't even four years old when she was in my wedding. I think that's five years ago but I couldn't possibly be right because it was just yesterday.

Anyway, I loaded up City Mickey and City Alex and took them to her house in Small Country Town for her birthday party. On the way Mickey asked if they have any toys. Um, yes, you could say that. Good, he says. Do they have a play area? Well, I don't know, honey...if you call 87,000 acres and vehicles (or animals) to scale it a "play area," then, yes, they have that, too.

(And if any of the parents of these kids freak out over my seven readers seeing these adorable pictures of their kids, please let me know and I will take them off. But then they'd just be depriving the Seven of their kids' adorableness. Aside: If you haven't noticed, I'm seriously relaxing my self-imposed rule about not putting my boys' pics out here. I guess I'm all comfy out here or something.)

Not your ordinary farm/ranch.

Small but mighty transportation.

And why can't a pond have a pier? That little yellow spot getting ready to walk the plank on the far left is Alex. Nice knowin' ya, sweetie.

Birthday girl catching her dinner.

Ten kids, two inches from water's edge, and I still managed to snap pictures.

That's the hand of big sister L who made that masterpiece of a cake.

The birthday party.

Saturday morning imposter

Splenda packets and a fork can only do so much

Last night we decided to go to dinner at a popular barbecue restaurant down the street. We were seated quickly and served our drink order, but it went downhill from there.

In a nutshell, our food never came. After one hour of waiting (and being strung along), Pete finally said "Two minutes, ma'am, and then we're leaving." The waitress left the table. Two minutes came and went. Then I asked the boys "do you want to go to McDonald's?"

YES! They couldn't have been more thrilled. So there is a time to love that high-fat, low nutritional-value place.

So Alex put down his fork (or flung it) and his sweetener packets (or flung them) and we bustled them out the door. And apparently the waitstaff was glad to see us go because no one came after us.

Here's a few things we were told during our one hour of sipping water and Diet Pepsi:

"It's the corndogs that take so long."
"Would you like a free dessert or something?"
"Is there anything else we can get you?"

Maybe that hour of my life back...

The "I got nothin" post

Not much in the creative department, I can tell you that. Right now I'm listening to some clothes tossing around in the dryer and wondering when they will jump out and hang themselves up. It's the last hour before I have to get the boys from MDO and I usually try to cram a lot of to-do's in there. Such as blather on my blog.

Blog blathering. Bloggering?

You may have read about seven people dying in a ginormous tornado last Saturday in Picher, Oklahoma. Way in the northeast part of the state. This has made the weather forecasters on TV and radio skittish about this afternoon's upcoming storms in our area. They're already planning for some "big ol' tornados" as one meterologist put it, so we Okies could understand, I guess. So if you're planning on watching Kristi Yamaguchi jump up and down because she's blown away another (why-am-I-even-here) competitor on DWTS...don't.

Oh, those dang clothes. I really gotta teach them a thing or two.

Let's hope you're getting paid for your photos

If you own one of these, you are probably a photographer who is also buying private islands in the Caribbean. Just...wow.It's a Hasselblad.

It's also $43,995.

Danica Patrick sends crewman to the hospital...

...and all he gets is "...it's unfortunate what happened today..."

Yeah, it's unfortunate the car with the wheels connected to the steering wheel being gripped by YOU could not make the decision not to hit that guy.

Really more unfortunate, Danica, is that you could not muster even an "I feel bad for what I did..."

Or a meeting with your publicist before the interview?! Yikes...that guy's gonna have some clean-up to do.

My Target is BloggedIn!

BloggedIn Network is having a contest that I NEED to win. It's easy-peasy to enter: just go here and check it out. The randomly-drawn winner gets a ONE HUNDRED DOLLAR TARGET GIFT CARD.

If I win, yes, it'll be quite difficult to decide what to buy. Clothes for the boys? Socks and underwear for Pete? Actually, how nice would it be to have a year's supply of Tide? Or diapers to get Cooper through to The Other Side of potty-training? Ahhhh, off to daydream some more...

You, on the other hand, need to get over there and enter yourself!

What's next? Walking across broken glass?

Today at Mother's Day Out was basically Mother's Day. Mickey's classroom was recreated to become the "Mom Spa."

Mom Spa was a lahhht of fun. Our perfect kids served us punch and cookies. They combed and styled our hair ("yyyess, honey, that feels, er, ow, good...") with little barrettes and clips. Then we went to a table where we got back massages with those three-legged thingies you get at Bath and Body Works.

Then, to my horror, there was the manicure table. I had to let Mickey paint my nails?!

You have to understand: I drive 20 minutes to my manicurist whose middle name is Meticulous (okay, USED to drive).

And now I get to let a four-year-old MALE do the job.

All the other mothers were happily sitting down and offering up their hands. I wondered if I could get away with telling Mickey I already had polish on them. No, shoot, they had a bottle of polish remover right there on the table. And then I thought how snooty and inconsiderate and just plain mean it would be if I told him no thanks.

And I thought about it some more.

And then I grabbed the remover, took off my old polish, and spread out my fingers on the table for Mickey to attack with the tiny brushes.

He absolutely loved it.

(By the way, I tried to photograph his handiwork but it's too difficult to see since the polish was too sheer. But it sparkles. All the way up to my first knuckles.)

So after I'd sacrificed my fingertips I figured I'd come home and take it off...and I guess I mentioned this to Mickey. His response?

"Why?"

Uhhhh, well, maybe I'll leave it on until Daddy gets home. Or until I go to bed tonight.

Or until your highschool graduation...

It gets that way late in the day

Is it just me or do most moms look at their kids sometimes and wonder why they do what they do?

Right now they are playing catch with twelve of these in an unopened package (up and down the stairs).

I really wonder how long it'll be before my downstairs looks like a car full of teenagers attacked it.

Who needs poetry when you have my husband?

So last night Pete and I went to dinner at our favorite restaurant to celebrate our anniversary. Dim lights, great atmosphere, wine, and each other. I really thought I had everything I needed right then and there...until he showered these very memorable words on me:

"Five years. Wow."

(a full second of silence as he gazes lovingly into my almost-teary eyes. Then...)

"You want some asparagus?"

I'm so looking forward to the 10-year green beans...

Look out, world!

The gold carpet and the Goodyear hat may be long gone, but today this little girl is getting a college degree that will never go out of style. Congratulations, L!

So five years of marriage makes you speechless?

There's a fine line between writing a blog post about your five-year wedding anniversary, boring your readers to death, and revealing too much information about your personal life. There's a lot of lines, I suppose.

The bottomline, however, is that tomorrow Pete and I will celebrate five years of marriage. In a lot of ways I feel like we are just getting started: we have a young marriage and young kids, compared to all my old and shriveled friends whose kids have one foot out the door.

Right this minute I'm listening to Alex sing the Barney song out loud. Right this minute Mickey is sleepy-eyed in bed next to him. Right this minute Pete is visiting a very sick friend in the hospital.

And right this minute I wouldn't change any of that. I have two beautiful boys and a compassionate, loving husband.

(How's that for speechless?)

WFMW: The secret to a good home manicure

Seche Vite Fast Dry Top Coat will make your home-done manicure last seven to ten days.

I feel obligated to post this Works for Me Wednesday tip. I cannot be so selfish as to keep this wonderful product all to myself (though the thought occurred to me).

I used to have my nails done at a salon every two weeks. Then kids. Now I do them at home when the mood strikes.

But I can get that salon quality at home with Seche Vite. It really does act like a shiny cement. If it weren't for this product I would NEVER give myself a manicure. I use it when I do the manicure, then every third day I apply another coat. There's no chipping, no peeling...you'll think your nails were born to be Cajun Shrimp.

I buy my supply from a dealer behind the Arby's by my house. I don't know where he gets it, just that he only takes cash. Sometimes he calls and says I only have five minutes to get there or he can't make the deal.

If the dealer doesn't call and I need some really badly, I can get it at my local Sally Beauty Supply for about $8 a bottle. And they take credit cards. However, the last time I was there they had it on sale for $4.50, so I went back home and got Pete's truck. (Update: It is still on sale there!)

For more Works for Me Wednesday tips, visit Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer.

Change is a good thing. Change is a good thing.

As I sat outside, I watched Shirtless Jogger Man sail by on the street in front of my house. Got your mental checklist?

1. Suck in your abdomen.
2. Lose five pounds instantly by standing up tall. Shoulders back and down.
3. Pretend you don't see him.
4. Make sure he sees you.

Forgot to mention that was written in 1999. Read on for the updated version that actually happened yesterday:

As I sat outside, I glanced up to see Shirtless Jogger Man sail by on the street in front of our house. Got your mental checklist?

1. Hold your 36-pound son so he doesn't fall off your lap.
2. Assure him toenail clipping does not hurt.
3. Remind yourself the pajama pants you're wearing need washing.
4. What man?

Totally understandable freakish paragraph

O lny srmat poelpe can raed this. I cdnuolt blveiee that I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd what I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in what oredr the ltteers in a word are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is that the first and last ltteer be in the rgh it pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can still raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the word as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? Yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! If you can raed this psas it on !!

Thanks Mrs. Who!

Do you love/hate your digital camera as much as I do?

My digital camera is a blessing and a curse. Of course I love all the perks of digital photography: cropping, zooming, fixing, sending in emails, etc.

But there's a huge curse.

I don't order prints. Ever! Is this inherent in the purchase of a digital camera? Does your mindset just abandon the prospect of a picture on paper the minute the clerk rings up the sale?

Anyway, I cherish my photo albums. I started them in 1985 or so and I have about 30. Albums. Each one holds at least 200 pictures. Some hold up to 400. As a kid I struggled with math but according to my calculator I have more than 6000 snapshots! Something's just weird about that when you consider I did not have little photo subjects until four years ago...

Anyway, today I realized I haven't ordered prints in more than a year. February 26, 2007 to be exact. So I've been working hard the last couple of days to get them in order and I finally got all my digital prints from the last 14 months uploaded to Clark Color. I'm ready to order 'em up for a very modest nine cents apiece, which is el cheapo as prints go.

Until you consider I have 1217 of them to order.

"Hi, yep, I've got pics of the boys. You wanna come to my house and see them on my monitor?"

I bet you don't hate drying dishes this badly

Our dishwasher has a drying feature on it. Basically it blows hot air on the dishes so they dry inside.

Somehow it got switched off today. I opened the dishwasher door to find WET dishes that needed drying. I'd rather scrub every toilet of every bathroom on my street. With my bare hands.

Now normally I wouldn't fret. I'd close up that door and pretend I didn't see them. I'd wait until Pete got home and lovingly watch him grab a towel and get to work. It's why I married him: he loves putting dishes away.

But Pete's gone on a golf trip right now. I wonder if he'd consider coming home for this.

Nah, so I considered grabbing the rag myself until I realized: heyyyyy! Why don't I just run the dishwasher AGAIN. And turn on the drying feature! What a great idea!

Then I realized that would be just crazy.

So tonight before I go to bed I'm going to open the dishwasher door and let them air dry.

I'm nothing if not resourceful.

Overheard: the observant one

Our church is in the midst of some kind of construction work...I don't really know what's being done, only that diggers and men in hardhats are required for the job.

So this morning as we were leaving Bible study, Mickey and Alex needed to stand at the door and observe the digger operator doing his work: moving dirt from a hole to a nearby big pile.

Only Mickey's description was a little more, uh, descriptive:

"Mom, that man sure is making big dumps..."

Lucky for me it's our Priest's day off...

Not that I miss the newborn days...

There must be a reason my youngest was born with the most mournful cry on earth. I think I know what it is: because if it were any less mournful he would not see any kind of parent figure appear at his crib until 7:30 a.m. Yes, he was born to make this unbelievably sad sound at 1:30 a.m. because no other sound on earth could can pry me from my mattress at that time.

And you know what: I think I could deal with a little crying for a few minutes if I knew his foot wasn't stuck between the slats or he hadn't dropped his blanket overboard. Barring those things I think I would let him cry a minute and he'd go back to sleep.

But then the words start and I turn to jelly.

"...hold you, Mamma! Hold you, Mamma!"

And that's when I leap out of bed and to his side in seconds. And I lift his 36 pounds outta there and I do. Hold him. As much for me as for him. And a couple of minutes later I lay him down and all's well with both our worlds.

I know I'm probably helping him regress his very healthy sleep habits. But one of my sisters (Ja) told me a long time ago "...if one of your children wants you to hold them, why wouldn't you?"

Makes perfect sense to me. Even at 1:30 a.m.

Branson: NOT the entertainment capitol of the south

...unless your idea of entertainment is to shop. And eat at restaurants. Then shop some more. Our party of fifteen (four of whom were under 1. Year. Old.) barely took a second glance at the Branson shows last weekend. Why would we when we stayed at a hotel with an entire mall at its feet?

Now don't get me wrong: I'm sure the Branson shows would have been impressive. But lordy, when most of us are used to power shopping because only have 27 minutes in the mall before our mom guilt overtakes us and we have to go home, or we're shopping while corraling a stroller and/or a toddler...let me tell you, trading the shows for shopping isn't a hard decision.

So that's what we did: shopped. And when we were exhausted from shopping, we ate. (Hmmm, is it possible this vacation could have happened in our own city?!)

Anyway, a few things I learned on the Church Moms trip:

1. Babies are scene stealers even if they aren't yours. My pictures from the trip show more of The Four Littles than they do the moms!

2. Overcast, windy, and 45 degrees? Whatever. We still shopped. And loved it.

3. Sometimes having ten people to consult before buying a purse is a blessing. Sometimes.

4. Peer pressure can occur at any age, even 42 (and limes taste realllly good!).

5. My boys lived without me. Pete, on the other hand...

6. I could not deal with motherhood without the support of the Church Moms. It's just comforting to know there are others who have moments when they feel like they, too, are miserable failures at the job. And then you look at them and say "...what!? You've SO got it together!" And they're like "...no way, I was going to say the same thing about you!"

(...and then we both laugh nervously because we realize NEITHER of us has it together.)

I'm back.

It's amazing how quickly one can get back in the groove after a long weekend with the girls. I just plunged a toilet and I'm getting ready to fold laundry. Despite these priorities I will post some details about our weekend. Notice the lack of a timeframe for posting? That's 'cause whenever I post an ETA that means I might have to live up to it. And who wants to do that!?

In the meantime, you can busy yourselves reading this insightful post by The Ironic Catholic. Let's just hope PB XVI saw this before his arrival in the U.S. today.

Real Housewives of Branson, Missouri

I'll be outta pocket for the next few days...now the five or so of you behave yourselves while I'm gone.

Yep, the church moms and I are headed to raucous Branson, Missouri for a little kidless R&R for the weekend. For some of us I believe it'll be the first trip away from the kids. For me? Well, Pete's a pro at Mr. Mommying...and the in-laws are ready and waiting.

Ya'll have a good weekend.

Hello, eye doctor.

Watching American Idol tonight (for the usual seven minutes), Mickey announced "that guy looks just like Bob the Builder!"

In case you do not have any kids under 5, here's his point of reference:

...and, according to Mickey, here's the guy who looks just like him:

The comfort food

1. Go to the Stove Top Stuffing site.
2. Click Hearty Meals.
3. Click Easy Chicken Bake.
4. Make it tonight, while it's still a little chilly outside. Save the leftovers (if there are any).
5. Have it tomorrow for lunch and marvel at how it's still as good as when you took it out of the oven.
6. Call me up and offer to pay me a finder's fee. In fact, suggest that I start a million-dollar business scouring the internets for recipe-box-worthy recipes. And figure out a way I can do that with two hours a day of work time. Go ahead...off you go...

Who knew Bransonians were clever?

Searching for a spa/salon for an upcoming girls' trip to Branson, Missouri, I came across this one that might be worth a visit for the name of the business alone:

Curl Up and Dye

A fine example of self-restraint

(A measly 12 posts in March! Pitiful. Okay, well, it's a new month so I'm starting over and I hope getting ready to post more.)

One of the million reasons I have for not posting lately is that I used to write during the boys' naps. Alex still naps regularly but Mickey has managed to throw them out completely. Fine, I said. But you're going to have 30 minutes of quiet time in your room by yourself while Alex is asleep.

That worked for two days.

So now I get to find other ways to get him out of my hair for a few minutes while I take a deep breath and put in a load of laundry.

His favorite way to while away the quiet time has become computer games, specifically a Nick Jr. program called Wubbzy, who is a computer-y character who really serves no purpose but...well, I can't really think of one. Nonetheless, Mickey loves this game. He's actually become good at it but sometimes needs a little help getting unstuck at certain stages.

That's where I come in.

I get to sit down at the computer and rescue Wubbzy and then hand the controls back to him. In a minute. Hang on, honey, I'm almost done. Wait, hold on. Okay. Here you go. Wait. Okay. Just a minute. Okay, here you go. Hang on...

And I turn a five-second help into five minutes.

So I'm blaming my lack of posting, in part, on a preschool video game. What a proud moment.

Tune in tomorrow for my self-intervention regarding this Teletubbies game, which is Alex's addiction. (Try it, I dare you. And let me know when you're ready to join me in a 12-step program.)

I got a million of 'em...

Excuses for not posting, that is. I'm going to spare you all my whining and send you over here and here for some fun stuff.

Someday I'll get back in the groove...

Happy birthday to the Head Coach of the Home Team

Happy birthday, Pete! I promise for this one day to let you call all the plays, as long as you don't change the line-up.

XOXO

BOOM! It finally happened...

Alex finally fell out of his crib while trying to get out of it last night. One day after turning two-and-a-half. This is significant because I told Pete six months ago we would move Alex out of the crib when he was two-and-a-half.

Lord help me I'm not ready to honor that commitment.

Alex doesn't know anything about sleeping in an unrestricted space. He still snuggles his large-for-his-age frame up against one end of the crib like a little bear cub. He goes to sleep by himself in there. He loves his music box and (until last night) has never tried to escape. He willingly lays down and even says "night-night" when he's particularly sleepy.

But now all that's going to be turned upside down. He won't know the first thing about staying in a bed that isn't surrounded by, um, bars. He'll jump out repeatedly, probably try to go downstairs, and then I won't know where to draw the line between STAY IN BED and "awww, come in here with mommy..."

I just can't wait...

Helps to have a blog for reasons like this...

...because I get to vent without making a fool of myself in public. I know, it's only the whole Internet.

Saturday night Pete and I went to see the movie Vantage Point (PG-13). The basic story is the President goes to Italy to speak publicly about a new effort to fight terrorism. In front of thousands of onlookers, the President is assassinated. The story then unravels by viewing the events as seen by several different people there: tourists, Secret Service, the President himself, and the bad guys.

The movie wasn't extremely graphic, but there were a lot of people getting shot and of course the President's chest jerking when he was shot, etc. And the bad guys shot a hostage point blank. But the good news is they were brought to justic in the end. With some more shooting.

What had my blood boiling by the end of the movie is that there was a child in the movie theater. Maybe five years old. Old enough to sit there quietly the whole time, but for one time when...get this...he had a question about the movie.

I was horrified when I heard his tiny voice. I nudged Pete and he just shook his head. I know, not much I can do without making a scene. I just wanted to ask that parent why he NEEDED to see a movie like that so badly that he didn't care about what his child saw. Isn't it hard enough to keep little kids from viewing violence on TV without PAYING for them to see it?

Lucky for the parent, I took the easy way out and chose to whine about it to Pete and post here instead of saying anything to him. Not that it would have done much good. Probably would have just confused the little boy, plus, the parent isn't going to change based on the rant of some stranger.

But I'm curious, would any of you said anything? Why or why not?

I'd post today, but there are eggs to hunt

It's a busy time here so you may not see me for a couple of days:

Yesterday it was 77 degrees; today it will be warmer. Being outside with the boys is vastly funner than being indoors typing drivel.

Today is Alex's Easter egg hunt at MDO. He will have a homemade (not by me!) Easter basket made from an orange juice carton. Or so I hear. I'm a little eager to see how Minute Maid will turn into an adorable vessel for gathering anything... Anyway, I'm helping hide eggs for the chillins' this morning.

Oh, and I lived through strep throat. Mmmmm....Omnicef!

If I had money to burn...

The price for this beauty? $49.95 of course (desperate model not included). I'd almost pay it just to see Pete put it on one time. Hmmm, his birthday is right around the corner.


It's called a Head Spa. I didn't read enough of the description to see what it does. For that price it should also teach you a foreign language while you sleep. Since you wouldn't want to be wearing this thing during the day. When people might see you.

I tried, grandparents

Last night I told Mickey:

"When one of the Grandma's asks you something, say yes ma'am or no ma'am. If Grandpa asks you something, say yes sir or no sir."

His response:

"Is that Spanish?"

Diet Coke + Strep Throat = Satisfaction

Having strep throat can really test one's allegience to foods and drinks. Or I should say, it'll help you identify your pain threshold. Because we all need to know that. So here are a few do's and don'ts I've learned since I made an A on my strep test:

Coffee? No way. Kills the throat.

Chips? Save 'em. Sorta feels like swallowing gravel.

Cereal? Same as chips but with phlegm-producing milk. Not good.

Diet Coke? Feels like cold shards of glass. But here's where I did not realize just how high on my List of Needs DC ranks. I am willing to endure the pain in order to drink it! At first I thought a sip at a time would do, but it is not enough. I have to guzzle this stuff to be satisfied! So for the last three days, I have had to take a deep breath, clench my fists, and suck down the glass shards. I feel like I'm gearing up to break six boards with my bare hands.

So worth it.

Apparently I didn't take my own advice...

We have a flu epidemic in my lovely city. If they made Ziploc bags big enough I'd just use those in place of carseats to tote my boys around (although the Big Bags might work!). They wash their hands every time they walk in the door and before they eat and we're using gallons of "hand-itizer."

But I guess I haven't taken my own precautions because I got diagnosed with strep throat today. Yikes.

The nurse asked me if I needed a note to take to my job so I would be excused and I can't believe I didn't take her up on that. Can you imagine the look on Pete's face if I handed in a doctor's note and said I was taking the next three days off?

Then she tells me to stay away from my children. Yep, she said that.

But she gave me pain meds so I forgave her.

What I learned this week (or what I should have already known)

1. It's not fun when your child is stomach sick. It's even less fun when he treats you to three surprise episodes over four days. At least with Mickey it's six hours of hell and then it's over...

2. I care about people who are sick in the hospital even when they are a friend of a friend. I think because I care about my friend being distraught over it. (That is poorly worded but you get the picture.)

3. I really, really, really appreciate and love my husband. I think he schedules four-day business trips to remind me.

4. It irks me when people say you can't trust the weather forecast. If you think about it, they're right most of the time. But lordy! When they're wrong, like they were this week saying we'd be getting snow, people grind them into little shreds. Like they could have done a better job...

5. I'm reading the Harry Potter books at a slower pace than my 9-year-old nephew. That sorta gives me a headache.

Got carded!

Ya'll have to check out VistaPrint. Per Shannon at Rocks in My Dryer I visited there and saw the word FREE, which of course equals CLICK HERE. Usually I'm skeptical but this time it was the real deal.


Bottomline? I got 250 of these business cards for $5.45 (shipping charge). They are cute but they do not have my kids' names on them so they aren't nauseating.

The reason I need them (besides that they were only $5.45) is that every now and then I exchange contact information with a parent or a teacher and end up writing it on a brown paper towel with a crayon. These will be much more professional. 'Cause moms are pros, right?

And just think of all those fishbowl drawings I can enter!

And did I mention they were $5.45?!

15 things I should have said

I saw this on someone's blog (can't remember whose) and traced it back to Nancy. I haven't read her blog but for this post, but I think it's so cool so I'm lifting the idea and sending her some link love.

The premise is to list 15 things you wish you'd have said in some situation. Either last week, last year, ten years ago or more. I do this a lot in my head: ten minutes after a situation is dead and buried I think of the perfect thing I should have said which would reveal the sharp-witted and intelligent person I really am, instead of a bumbling fool.

So here goes...15 things I should have said:

1. Yeah, that's right. I'm breaking up with you now. Not in three years. Now. And take your girlfriends with you.

2. When I start getting paid for overtime, I'll work it.

3. Thank you for telling me I'm pretty.

4. Yes, you can sleep with me since Daddy's traveling.

5. You really have clothes that are more flattering than that.

6. Stop. Sending. Junk. Email. Please.

7. Your teasing hurts my feelings. And shut up.

8. Wait, I think you gave me too much change.

9. No, I can't help you with that right now.

10. Can you help me though?

12. Bless me Father for I have sinned.

13. Thank you for accepting me no matter what I do.

14. Please accept me, no matter what I do.

15. Blog, schmog.

Sometimes I think the sweetest thing in the world...

...is hearing Alex's music box come on in the morning. Before I hear his voice calling me. I picture him in there just enjoying waking up by himself. "Ahhhh, let me just have a moment before my lower half gets stripped naked..."

Good morning, peoples! Have a great day!

Shrimp-o-licious!

Ya'll have to check out this video. "Mom" is a parishioner at our church and yes, she really is that sweet a person.

(Someone please try this recipe and save me some!)

Which would YOU rather meet in a dark alley?

I really thought I had seen the scariest thing on earth when I read this article about a vicious, man-eating fish that can survive OUT of water for four days.

Then I saw this recipe from snooty-but-very-creative Food Network chef Ina Garten. Pecan Squares aren't usually scary -- unless the recipe calls for NINE sticks of butter. NINE. (Thanks for the link, LW). But I bet you could skinny it down by using only seven sticks and no one would notice.

Update: Those Pecan Squares have 25 Weight Watchers Points. Each. I believe I'd rather meet up with the man-eating fish.

Is it wrong to enjoy your son's bout with stomach problems?

Last night Mickey was up for two hours throwing up. Poor thing...yeah, I fired up the washing machine about midnight. So I kept him home today from MDO but took Alex (he has not been stricken, thank goodness).

He and I spent the day on the sofa. I got out of going to the gym and doing laundry and I got four hours of very quiet time with my oldest. We watched a movie, looked at a book, and played with his new walkie-talkies. Bliss.

He's better now and eating a little, but still just turned down several notches.

So next week when he's bouncing off the walls and Alex I'm going to tell him "remember last week when you were so calm and cuddly? That, please, only without clean-up..."

Lotta good my moms' group is doing me...

At a recent meeting of The Moms the conversation turned to behavior issues with our kids (big surprise). I asked the group of about six moms: what is the best response to Mickey when he's constantly updating me on Alex's actions. Like he'll say, "Alex is smashing his cheese..." or something else just as benign.

One of the moms had a suggestion...say something like "I'll take care of Alex, you take care of you." Sounds logical. This could work!

So I tried it today:

"Mom, Alex is smashing his cheese..."

"I'll take care of Alex and you take care of you, okay?"

"Mom, you have to take care of me, too."

Thanks, moms...what else ya got?

I'm four now. I don't eat birthday cake.

Yeah, so I made Mickey's birthday cake from scratch, since I have a thing about paying a bakery for a cake for anyone under 20 years old. I won't say I slaved over his 4th birthday cake, but it was several hours from start to finish, and one messy kitchen to show for it.

The finished product was sort of cool, though:

And Mickey's reaction to seeing it even cooler:

"Mom, I love it! I really love it!"

But when it came down to serving time: "Nah, I think I'll just have ice cream."

HUH?!

So the cake was served to the very few guests we had and eaten very slowly and lovingly by his brother, but Mickey managed to steer clear of the entire thing. The last little bit was scraped into the sink tonight.

Did I mention it had crushed Oreos between the layers?

What in the world could this boy possibly need in a cake?!

Wait, I know: AA batteries, an old cell phone, and a Ty puppy dog.

That'll do it...

Happy birthday, little boy

My oldest toddler is no longer a toddler. Mickey is four years old today. Happy birthday, little man.

Details to follow, including pics of the Oreo-laden chocolate cake that he wouldn't eat.

The test of a two-year-old

I mentioned the other day that Alex was getting ready for the first academic test of his life. His teacher and I sat down in tiny chairs at a short table in an unused room at his school to discuss the results.

I was just a little nervous about it. Yes. Nervous. Would she tell me she's worried about Alex's development? Would she not but should? Would she say he's too aggressive to the other kids (at which point I would just have to apologize for not warning her)?

For you people who have work to do and need the nutshell version of his results, here it is:

He is normal.

For those of you who have nothing better to do:

Alex did a lot of what she asked him to do during the evaluation. There were also things I know he can do, but didn't do them for her. For instance, I know he can jump with both feet, at least that's what he does to get from the ottoman, sofa, coffee table, and third stair to the floor. I also know he can say a three-word sentence. Several of them. All day long, over and over and over until I cave in...

Then there were a few things he didn't do and that I know he can't do. Am I going to worry about that? Probably. And several of you out there are going to tell me I'm crazy and let the boy be a boy and don't push him.

Okay. Maybe.

...and french fries improve your wit

So Mickey pulls up his chair to the sink, where it should actually just stay the whole day because he usually has some sort of chore going on there. I was peeling carrots for a roast and I mentioned, as if it would help their reputation, that carrots are good for you and they make you grow tall.

"That's okay," he says. "I'll just stand on a chair..."

Hard to argue.

And the battle continues...

The angel. And the devil.

I'm really going to give the angel more attention this week. What about you?

Just because I love this...

Usher as Gene Kelly!

"Let me change your diaper, then we can study for your test..."

Alex is two. Not quite two and a half.

Next Tuesday he has a TEST at Mother's Day Out.

His teacher said she will be testing for "average two-year-old skills and abilities." Letters, numbers, shapes, etc., and I'm assuming motor skills. I think Alex will do okay, but if she really wants to see if two-year-olds are where they should be in their development, she should add the following evaluations:

How many seconds (minutes, if applicable) does it take the child let go if he has his teeth locked on to his brother's back?

From a seated position, how far can the child launch a french fry? Banana? Plate? Sippy cup?

What is the decibel of his cry when he is put in time out?

How fast can the child break your grip and run down an aisle in Wal-Mart? Target? Your neighborhood in general?

How many seconds does it take your child to notice a kitchen cabinet without a child lock?

How old was your child when he first broke a child lock?

When did he first slide a large bucket of toys (or a large firetruck, or his sibling) down the stairs?

When was the first day your son or daughter's older sibling ran to get away from him?

How many times a day do you get big sloppy kisses from your son and forget all about his "proper development"?

"And we had to float our checks two miles. In the snow."

So I'm in line at Wal-Mart (not looking for a purple shirt) and the lady in front of me was finishing up her order. Now because she was in the 10-items-or-less line and had at least 147 items, I think she got what she deserved:

Clerk: "Your total is $140.91." (Not kidding.)
Woman: "Here's my card. I don't know how much is in the account so I might have to write you a check."
Clerk: "Denied."
Woman: "Okay, I'll just write you a check."

Now here's where I'd have been sunk back in college. A check no longer "floats." If you haven't got the money in your account, it bounces like a Superball. Wal-Mart and other megastores now have the technology to see just how good that check is in a matter of seconds.

Clerk: "Nope, that check isn't going through."
Woman: "What?! I just deposited my paycheck! It should be fine!"
Clerk: "When did you make the deposit?"
Woman: "An hour ago!"

Newsflash! That technology doesn't go both ways. Pity the college kids these days...

Waiting for a match-up

The subject of our children's hands seems to be something we moms think about a lot. There's this beautiful post by Antique Mommy, and Shannon has such a way with words you wonder if your kids will ever do anything wrrrrrr...

It's these types of posts that made me look up from my chair in the living room the other night, when I heard Mickey say to Pete "...your hand's much bigger than mine..." Then "...match it up, Daddy."


"Match it up" means to put each other's palms together. Of course, Mickey's hand barely covers the palm of Pete's. They're still so small and soft (the latter is being helped along by the dirt pile in our front yard). In just a fleeting thought, I wondered how old Mickey would be when his hand was as big as Pete's. How much will he have accomplished with those hands by that time?

In the coming years I'm sure Mickey will request more match-it-ups. I'm sure I'll also remember the first time he did it and how little his hands looked.

And I'll probably wish I wasn't so anxious for them to match up.