Churkey

Why chicken does it to me I'll never understand. It always brings me to my knees. I haven't written a thing in over a month and I find myself in the kitchen chopping up a couple of chunky chicken breasts feeling the need to vent my chicken chopping frustrations. I think it's moments of desperation like these when you reach down deep inside yourself take a good look at your life and realize there is something missing - an automatic chicken chopper.

Now I have a purpose. (Motherhood aside and all that.) I need to come up with a prototype for a chicken chopper. Something that chops chicken, removes the fat and makes it all pretty in half, no, a quarter of the time it takes to manually cut up a chicken breast with a big knife a cutting board and a bad attitude.

Hmmmmm...... I'm not even sure where to begin. You know this is one of those random times when I wish my husband was a butcher. It doesn't happen as often as when I wish he was a firefighter, but that's a blog for another day...

This all might stem from the fact that I'm about to host my first Thanksgiving. Yes, it's true I'm forty... something and I've never cooked a turkey. You can look at that two ways 1) wow, what a lazy butt never having cooked the big turkey meal or 2) wow, she managed to not cook the big turkey meal until she was forty-something, impressive I should take lessons from her. I prefer 2.

When I mention this to people they must see the fear in my eyes because they all tell me it will be ok. And I just nod my head in agreement saying yeah, my mom is coaching me. Tim has picked up on my tension. (That's like saying Tim noticed that brick with turkey gizzards attached that I threw at his head the other day) and has pretty much taken over the turkey preparation. Actually there's no pretty much about it so far it's his baby, uh, turkey and I've decided I'm going to keep my nose out of it and let him take his turkey and run with it. ( I just like to picture that image in my head...)

So no, he's not a chef or a cook or a butcher or a firefighter for that matter but this Thanksgiving he'll be joining the ranks of turkey cooks across America and I will still be a turkey virgin. (Haven't used that word in ..... oh, never mind.)

Is It Cold in Here?

I used to have dreams all the time where I was topless. It wasn't like a dream where you are suddenly naked in a crowd of people it was much more subtle than that. I would be going out somewhere with friends and I would just decide that my outfit that evening was going to be a topless one. It was like "should I wear the black shirt or the brown shirt, Oh! I'll just wear the NUDE shirt." And so I would go out with my friends feeling quite the fashionista. I might get a little chilly and then I might realize no one else had the same color of shirt on as I did, if-you-know-what-I-mean. People would kind of stare and not in a "wow, look at those" kinda way. More of a "oh.... dear" kinda way. And then it would dawn on me that I was ok, a little embarassed by my fashion choice and, ironically, freezing my ta-tas off.

So I went to the gynecologist earlier last week. (This is where all of you male readers are jumping ship after my nudie ta-tas story.) I saw the nurse practitioner and I must say I had never been completely felt up in a less amount of time. I often see different nurse practitioners and I've found them all to be incredibly effecient but this lady had a gift. When I told Tim how fast she was he said "wow, that's faster than me." Kinda had to agree with him there.

So I knew when she said "ok, get dressed and I'll be right back" that I had to be quick. Like an idiot I started to dress by the order my clothes were laid on the chair. Underwear.... jeans.... knock on the door and in walks my nurse practitioner. So I act casual because while I'm not wearing a stitch of clothing on my top she had just been there, if-you-know-what-I-mean, so no big deal right? Well, as she hands me a flyer that has to do with, believe it or not, breast health, I start to get a little unsure of my semi-nakedity. I think it was when I put my hands on my hips in an attempt to suggest "yeah I'm half naked but I'm ok with that" that I realized, this really isn't right.

Fortunately because of her speedracer ability the whole incident didn't last long although honestly it felt like 10 minutes of my 15 minute appointment. She told me to "have a great day!" on her way to her next appointment as I'm casually trying to put my bra on in front of her. I think I might have even stopped and gave her a finger wave. I don't know I was feeling a little dizzy by then.

So what I guess I'm saying here is don't put your clothes on in the order they are laying on the chair after your yearly exam. It is possible that dreams really can come true.

Beef... It's What's For Dinner

I should be cooking chicken right now instead I'm here, blogging. I got the chicken out of the freezer, placed it in a microwave safe dish, defrosted it for 6 minutes and then left it. That was an hour and a half ago. I can't seem to get back to the chicken. I'm having a chicken aversion tonight. Go away chickie, chickie.

Not that I don't like chicken. I do. Chicken is tasty. I even like real chickens. Chickens are hilarious. This blog is starting to feel like a deja vu. I need to let the chicken go....

So things have been relatively calm in the Johnson household lately. I guess that's why I'm blogging less. I'm not in need of as much writing therapy. I think we've all finally adjusted to being back in school. My mom always said it takes two weeks to adjust to being out of school and two weeks to adjust being back in school. It has taken us, let's see.... I'm counting.... hold on..... 6 weeks. I think that's a record on the slow to change category of family dysfunction.

But we're finally here so I'm not going to complain. Well I might. Ok, here I go...

No, no, no. I'm not going there. Hey! Good news! Dancing with The Stars is back. Have you seen Maks? I have. Have you DVR'd Maks and played it over and over again? I have. Have you paused when there's a good shot of his pecs? I have. Have you tried to dance along with Maks pretending to be his partner in short shorts and a tank top? Ok, you need therapy. That's over the top.

Ok, I've wasted some time and liberated my Maks libido at the same time so now I'm heading back to the kitchen. I'm really not feeling like chicken anymore though. Wonder if I have some beef...

The Seven Stages of Grief

Sometimes life deals you a lethal blow and you have to adjust, learn to live with it, change your old normal to a new normal. Well, I think Olive can relate. In a desperate attempt to control my increasingly psychotic dog when we are on walks I have purchased a Gentle Lead. Since I couldn't find the harness style I got the one that slips over her snout. Now, mind you, this doesn't hurt her and she can bark, chew, lick (unfortunately) with the Gentle Lead on.

It's going to take a while to adjust to the feeling so I've compiled a short visual journal in this process.

Stage 1.....

Denial

Stage 2...
Depression.... No she's not sleeping (faker).


Stage 3...

Acceptance???

Stage 4....

"She can't make me go outside and she probably can't even see me behind this shoe."

Stage 5...

Denial in the yard...


Stage 6...
"Maybe I can squeeze myself under this gate, rip this thing off my head and go live in the woods with Lassie."

I realize there's suppose to be a 7th stage but frankly I don't think we're going to get there.

Birthday Bash

Well, the girls' birthday came and went. It was a full week of celebrating the 12 year mark. As a surprise for their birthday I redecorated their room. This was a bit of a challenge to pull off. The Saturday before their birthday Tim and I painted their room which they knew about. We painted the ceiling white (it was blue) and the walls a lovely shade of cream. Maya asked if that was it, just beige walls. I told her they were cream walls and maybe we'd get some colorful throw pillows or something. She looked at me like I was a pathetic excuse for a decorator.

So Monday night Tim helped me hang curtains and shelves in their room while they slept out in the family room. I locked the doors to their room Tuesday morning and said they couldn't go in because I had caulked and it smelled really bad. This was a fabulous excuse because they don't know what caulk is and they weren't really that interested so they didn't ask. I spent the day putting up wall stickers and dusting and rearranging and hanging up their ribbons and pictures on cork board a complete makeover with a zebra print rug. It took me all day. But of course I still couldn't let them in their room until Tim got home for the big reveal. Maya began getting suspicious but amazingly we pulled it off. At 7:00 we had the big reveal but we forgot to yell "move that bus!". Oh well...

This is the only angle I can show you because their beds haven't been made since reveal day.

Then that same night Tim took them to Target to buy a Wii with their birthday money and money they had been saving. All that excitement carried us until Friday when we sat down for Maya's requested birthday dinner of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Eva's was spaghetti and meatballs which we served at their party Saturday night. By the way KFC means Klean and Food-Free Colon to me from now on. I tried to tell myself how it's good to sometimes cleanse the colon even if it is 3:00am. Anyway... Tim's sisters Robin (and her daughter Emma) and Susan (and her fiancee Tom) came over to celebrate with us and Robin and Em brought all their fun Wii games. They brought their dance mat and I have an injury. And that's all I'm gonna say about that.

The Audience...

Of course, Emma ended up spending the night and the kids spent most of the day wrangling some kind of secure ticketed entry into our birthday party Saturday night...



It's amazing what you can do with jump ropes and Post-It notes.

The party was a hit. The girls had great fun and got some very nice presents (which I keep threatening to send back if they don't write their thank you notes.)


Sunday morning we got everybody up (mostly on time) for church to be followed by religious education. On the way to church I cut right to the chase and told them that they would be going to religious education directly after church and there would be ( and I quote) "under no circumstances a side trip to grab donuts. And if anyone puts up a fuss or asks for a donut at the end of mass I'm going to slug you. Understood?!" And then this is where Tim leans over from the driver's seat and whispers in my ear "by the way, it's their birthday." So, I immediately turn around and yell "Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!" And for some reason they all looked at me like my hair was on fire and they were utterly completely speechless.

I wish I had a picture of that.

6 Days and Counting

I had an idea to do a countdown to Maya and Eva's twelfth birthday which is coming up - in 6 days. Twelve is freaking me out a little bit and I thought this might help on the acceptance level. I guess in my head I see "twelve" as "SIXTEEN". I know that makes no sense but in my brain it does because ever since I told Tim "in just four years they will be sixteen!" I haven't been able to get it out of my head. I'm adding four to everything. Isaac is really 10 (aacckk!!), I'm really 33 (it was worth a shot). No, actually that makes me almost 46!! OMG I'm freaking myself out. That makes me closer to 50 than 40 and then I really am middle aged. Right now I think that other people think I'm middle aged but I know I'm really not. (It's complicated, but it all works out in my head.)

Where was I? Now that I'm almost 46 it's getting harder to keep my brain cells functioning. Oh yeah, enough about me, so the girls are turning twelve in 6 six day and 16 in 6 days and four years. I think I'll just call it twelveteen. And I'm going to stick with 33.

College Bound

Somebody needs to let go of the camp songs. And when I say somebody I mean me. Summer is over, it's time to move on.

My nephew (and Godson) went off to college yesterday. He's the oldest grandchild on my side of the family so this a momentous occasion. His mom sent me pictures of them setting him up in his dorm room at Ball State. It all brought a tear to my eye. I would swear on my right eye that it was just a couple of years ago that I was babysitting Sam and buying him loud obnoxious birthday toys that would drive his parents crazy. How did this happen? How did 18 years go by in the blink of an eye?

I look at my kids all the time and wonder how we got here. (Sometimes I wonder why we're here but mostly I wonder how.) With Maya and Eva's 12th birthday approaching I find myself sometimes stopping, thinking and then freaking out. Last night I told Tim that in just 4 short years his daughters will be DRIVING. (That almost killed the mood...) It's at times like this when I have these realizations that I consider not feeding my children. Maybe we could just slow this whole growing up process down a little bit. I won't explain the birds and bees, I'll stop buying them new clothes for a year and we'll go live in the country, on a commune, without... anything.

But then 4 o'clock rolls around on a weekday and my house is impaled with loud children who are really good at doing everything but what they are supposed to be doing and destroying any calm and order or cleanliness that I have gained in the past 7.5 hours.

College here we come.

Wheeeeeeee......

Whewwowwhee!! Or whew-wow-whee. That's a new word I just made up to express my feelings after the first week of school. That means. Whew -I'm glad it's over, wow- that was a long week, and whee- as in wheeeeeee. (It's more of a expelling of my breath after I'd been holding it for a week.)

Before I get into all that I would just like to tell me friend Yoan (notice the extra-anemone, er, anonymity, or anonymousity.) I'm sorry to see you go, but I understand your dilemna. I think it's a smart move Scoan. (That one was Tim's suggestion.) I think it's best if I don't say anything more about leather "scapps" and matching "scests" made out of placemats. Oh yeah, and scogs. I think you know you'll be missed. We scove you - scotally.

I feel like the first week of school could best be described as "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat." I'm not sure anyone was victorious but It's over and it hurt.

Seventy percent of the week was great. That must have been the 70% when they were actually at school. There was just that small percentage of incidents like Eva coming to the realization that she was in fact going to have to do homework after the second day of school. For some reason being in the sixth grade now I thought she would know this. I'm not sure why I thought that since I'm still telling her to brush her teeth every morning - and night. After about 20 minutes of an emotional breakdown (I'm talking about Eva, mine was much later and a little longer) she got over it and got it done. The next morning as she's heading out to the bus she yells at me "and mom, pray that I don't have any homework!" So I yell back "Eva, YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE HOMEWORK! PRAYING ISN'T GOING TO CHANGE THAT!" She wasn't quite sure how to take that.

Potty Frustrations Part II

So I'm not done with the whole interrupted bathroom time thing. I realized in the shower yesterday (this is where I do all of my best thinking, you'd think I'd be cleaner, or maybe filthy, I don't know) that Tim doesn't have the same problem with finding his private time in the bathroom.

And you know what? Tim will spend 30 minutes or more on the commode with NO INTERRUPTIONS!!! When I realized this I was ready to conduct a study. The "why does the mom always get the short-end of the dirty stick that was scraped off the bottom of someone's shoe with doggie poo poo on it" study. I think you know what I'm saying.

But I don't have to because it was a long shower and I have it figured out. The truth is (and this is very ironic so hold on to your seats) Tim needs no privacy therefore he gets all the alone time he needs when he's meditating on the john. Let me break it down for you.

Tim has always been fine with opening the door and inviting the kids in while he's in his personal library. He doesn't know the meaning of the word modesty. He considers boxers shorts never mind the fact that they are shorts with a big hole in the front where a person's weiner could fall out. I've expressed to him my concern of his johnson junior making an appearance say, at his parents house one morning. But this is a whole other blog topic.

But he has a secret weapon. His shit stinks. (I'm sorry, I try to keep the "potty" words off my blog.) Yes, it stinks bad. So bad that he would invite Isaac in when he was just a toddler and I (yes, me) would have to go in and literally save Isaac because he was GAGGING. No, I'm not making that up. I threatened Tim with charging him with child abuse because it certainly qualified as cruel and unusual punishment.

So the kids steer clear of the bathroom if Tim is in there. And Tim always leaves the door open a crack so we all know who's in there and there might even be a little something wafting through the crack. (Ha, I said crack.)

Now the thought has occured to me that Tim might not appreciate this blog very much but I figure he's had approximately 3650 hours of private reading time and I've had nil. So we're almost even.

Lazy, Hazy Days of Summer

Ok. I'm on a lot of people's $#@! list. I can take it. Just don't tell me I have clown feet. That's low. Also true, but still really low.

I've been a little busy and obviously I've neglected my blog. I think to say I've been psycho, out-of-mind, who's going to come do the laundry?! busy would be more accurate. If I can get the breakfast dishes in the dishwasher the same day we had that breakfast then I'm doing ok. Lately I haven't been doing ok. There have been a few days when I've come home and wondered what breakfast was on the dishes because it was becoming unrecognizable.

But the kids have had a great summer. Ok, an awesome summer if I do say so myself. They have participated in every activity possible that was either free or so cheap I couldn't pass it up. Isaac has particularly enjoyed car camp. That was where he road in the back of the van all summer to Maya and Eva's various activities. I however have developed car lag. That's where after 5 hours of driving to 8 different locations I either need a nap or a smoke. I have a nice napping habit now. I also have a habit of waking up every morning at 4am which makes me wonder if smoking is really that bad for you.

I think we've all gained some insights this summer. The girls are enjoying more sports activities and building a little confidence. Maybe even a little muscle. Isaac is O.C.D. about "working". Actually he's just O.C.D. but this is his big focus now. The boy has to have a job, preferably one that involves either money, writing, telling someone what they are doing wrong or heating up hot pretzels. And really he just generally wants to boss people around. I've had to remind him several times this summer who the boss really is in our house. He looks at me like I'm telling him a bad joke. And I can tell he's just humoring me by not arguing with me. So I'm not really sure who the boss is here but I'm pretending it's me.

And finally I've learned a most insightful lesson. That no matter how old your kids are they still can't leave you alone in the bathroom for five minutes. I have endured 2 months of interrupted potty time before I realized that there was a pattern. How can a person be in a locked bathroom for five minutes and all three of her children NEED to talk to her through the door with the fan running (it's suppose to be a deterrent, I don't really NEED a fan.) twice, each? How is that possible? And are they thinking of questions to ask me with the most possible syllables so that I will either come to the door so that I can hear them or so that I'll just say "yes". "Mooommmmm! Can blu blah bleet-blue-blah with cah-bleh-glah-blue-glah at big-a-boog-bah-blah?"

I've edited my answer from the beginning of summer which was "Hold on a minute, I'll be out in a sec." To "Go Away! Leave me alone." But this last week of summer always sends me over the edge so I'm sure by Sunday I'll be saying "If you knock on that bleeping door one more time I'm going to remove all of your bleeping appendages from your bleeping body and you'll never go blu-blah bleet-blue-blah with cah-bleh-glah-blue-glah again!!"

That seems fair.

Camp Survivors

Well, looks like everyone here survived camp week. We picked Maya and Eva up about an hour ago and they don't look too exhausted. Isaac seems happy (at this point) to have his companions back. Our cousin Emma is over telling Maya and Eva they really need to make compromises on their stories they are telling of camp as there is more bickering going on about who is going to say what than actual story telling. I couldn't agree with her more. Wow, it really was so much quieter while they were gone.

Now that I have all my little chickens back I'm ready to tuck them in and sleep soundly without falling asleep worrying about their carsickness, sunburns and anxiety disorders. Unfortunately it's 1:10 in the afternoon so I'm going to have to keep my eyes open a few more hours and listen to camp stories. This is where the ability to fall asleep with my eyes open would really come in handy.

I'm sure if I look back on the week there are some lessons I've learned from our first camp experience. One would be to know when camp actually is so you're not freaking out the night before trying to pack. Another one would be that sending your kids away for camp for the first time is not that much unlike sending them off to their first day of kindergarten - be forewarned.

I think the biggest lesson I've learned this week is that it doesn't matter how many kids you have because one kid is going to fill up your time just as well as three especially if his name is Isaac Johnson.

Camp Advil

I think we've all calmed down now. I think it was about 11:30am yesterday that I got over my camp anxiety.

My friend Beth (who is at camp with Maya and Eva) called me this morning to say they appear to be having a great time. I'm just going to go with that. At this point I have to go with it because my head feels like it's going to explode from the combination of yesterday's stress and monthly hormone surges. I'm pretty sure someone ran over me with a car last night while I was sleeping. It's at times like these when you remember just how stressful parenting can be and also why you hold on to those prescription painkillers.

Isaac and I were like nomads today. We actually went to the girls' tennis practice yesterday without them because we didn't know what else to do with ourselves.

Today I tried to take him on a bunch of errands and realized it doesn't matter if you have 3 kids or 1, they still don't want to run a bunch of errands.

I managed to get a few things done before Isaac's legs got so tired he just couldn't walk anymore. Fortunately they have those really big carts at Home Depot with seats in them. Isaac sat in one seat with his feet propped on the other while I pushed the 8 foot long cart through the store with a 10 ounce bottle of Miracle Gro in it. And, you know, it's not like you can go to Home Depot and just go down one aisle. I had to check out everything. Who knows? I might need an entirely new kitchen next week.

Tonight Tim and I took Isaac and Olive to the park. I walked Olive around a football field twice to wear her out. And Isaac managed to run around the playground for an entire hour without the aid of a behemoth shopping cart.

But now my flowers are happily fed, my dog is tired and Isaac is propping his feet up on the sofa to watch a movie before bed. And me, well, there's always plenty of Advil.

Anxiety Camp

Oh what have I done? I just sent Maya and Eva off to camp for a week. Oh what have I done? I'm repeating myself. They've never gone to camp by themselves ( by themselves except with each other of course). And I've compounded my anxiety because I completely forgot about camp until last night at 8:00pm.

Needless to say I was a little freaked out at having to get them ready to go at the last minute. Tim helped by telling me "ok, you're a little stressed out..." I responded by walking away and not kicking him in the nuts.

They were both excited although Eva was a little nervous. This is not unlike Eva as she's my anxious one. She's also the one that doesn't like to eat outside because of the bugs, gets nauseous if she gets too hot or has to ride in a car for more than an hour and I just put her on a bus packed like a sardine with 55 other kids for a two hour drive to southern Indiana. What the hell was I thinking?!!

Ok, maybe I'm overreacting here. Somebody please tell me I'm overreacting because right now I'm nauseous and my head is beginning to ache.

Ahhhhh.....

We're home. Actually we got home Sunday night. It was nice to be back after being gone for 11 days. Now it's Wednesday and it's not as nice because I still haven't unpacked my suitcase and I am feeling an overwhelming urge to either call Merry Maids or just set a pile of laundry on fire.

I just have to thank Bobby and Mary Jay for their wonderful hospitality. I don't know how they do it but I certainly appreciate that they do. Can't wait to see the video from the talent show. Plenty of blackmail material for the future.

And I also want to thank Tim's parents for entertaining us for a week. Oh, how we love the beach and being able to just hang out with you guys. It's great that the kids could get to know their "white grandparents" a little better. You know it's important that they know both of their heritages. White-haired or black-haired. We are united into one family, all equal despite the color of our hair. We are well, white.

More to come.....

Bleeeeeppp........

How can you not love the dance pole ad? I want to do what she's doing - that upside down thing. I'd go workout just for that.

We're leaving for vacation tomorrow. I think I'm officially ready now. We just got back from our first swim meet of the season and we spent an hour and half in pouring down rain. I so kindly volunteered to kinda co-chair the concession stand. And I would just like to tell Jaleen, the person who I took over for, that I curse her and her children. And maybe her children's children as well.

I'm probably going to keep this short because I'm so wet my underwear is drippy and I can only think of cuss words at this point. I think it was the pickle juice leaking in my car that sent me over the edge.

And now I have this freakin' goddamn frame in the middle of my blog that I don't know where the hell it came from!

I'm done now.

MIA

Jill I was thinking the same thing about the shiny pantyhose! I'm sure shiny would go with Robin's, I mean Lobin's, entire collection of chaps! Great minds do think alike!

I think Karen has a point about Joan. Oops, let me rephrase that. I think Laren has a point about Loan. She's MIA. And I think there could possibly be only one explanation: she's being held hostage by her competition: non-clogging skinny pole dancers. Laren figured it out in her last comment, I'm just cutting to the chase.

We live in a world where skinny people with rock hard abs and awesome dance skills can dance on TV with celebrities for a living (ok, I want to be one of those people). But my point is clogging, pole dancing women with clapping love handles is a rare thing (I'm hoping a very rare thing) so the only explanation is that some evil tasteful pole dancer has abducted Loan and is trying to get her pole dancing, clogging, love handle clapping secrets out of her. Oh, Loan, how could you get yourself in such a pickle?

We need to gather and have a vigil for the safe return of Loan and there needs to be margaritas, and loud music in some swanky joint filled with male latin dancers who don't have buttons on their shirts. You know.... for Loan.

Stinkerella

Bras for plus size women? I love the ads that pop up on my blog. A couple days ago it was sugar-free margarita mix, intimate apparel and something about men wearing boys clothes. I don't get that last one. The others I get. I think Google Adsense has detected that Loan is already functioning on pure sugar and probably doesn't need anymore. I'm not sure about the plus size bras for women. I guess it sounds like we're making our own bras with place mats and a glue gun. It's an interesting thought but it doesn't sound like a comfortable one. But hey, like chaps and plastic vests are?

I finally have a minute alone at home. I think this might be the first one in two weeks since the kids got out of school. I'm hoping it will be more like 90 minutes. I started to dream about all I could get done while they were gone and realized 90 minutes wasn't going to cut it so I decided to just be decadent with my time and blog. Lucky you.

So the other night on my way to work I stopped at CVS to get some gum. After I had left my house I realized my breath was probably less than stellar so gum was a necessity. As I was checking out, the cashier, a guy, asked me if I'd been out in the sun. I answered that I had a little bit that day and asked "why, is my face red?" knowing it wasn't but wondering what on earth he was talking about. And he said "No, I can smell you." Yes, that's a direct quote. I didn't really know what to do with that information. Throw my arms up in the air and start sniffing my pits? It was an awkward moment there for a minute and then he said "You know, your uh SPF or uh sunscreen." I just nodded my head, thanked him (for telling me I stink) and left.

So now I'm thinking some strange guy just told my I smell and he was standing a good 5 feet away from me and I'm on my way to work and there's no time for a shower. Great. Do I really smell? And how bad is it? So when I got to my job I just smiled really big and stood up taller. Cause you know stink is less noticeable when you look confident.

So Lorry

Laren I'm so glad we got together at our officially unofficial meeting of Bar-D Camp. Although let me just clarify to everyone that it was a spontaneous dinner at a Mexican restaurant where we refrained from drinking margaritas. In fact, it wasn't officially anything at all so let's just call it a um, leeting.

But now I've come up with some ideas for camp like I'm thinking there is going to have to be a craft that involves place mats, scissors, a hot glue gun and a spare bra. That's all I can say for now but I'm so excited about it I think I'm going shopping for place mats tomorrow!

There should probably also be some other organized activities as well so we don't consume our margaritas too quickly especially since we'll be wearing the Depends in our bras and not as our undies. By the way, will we be wearing undies? I'm not sure what to wear with chaps. Maybe we don't need to make a group decision on that. I'm afraid of what Loan might say.

I'm going to have to ponder a while about what these activities will be but I'm thinking Laren should do a PowerPoint on her family. I think color graphics would be great Laren with lots of cats pictured and I volunteer Lobin to help you with that. Maybe you can convince her to share her chaps - just not the ones with pink fur, I know those mean a lot to her. I think she sleeps with them and pets them while she sleeps saying "nice, kitty kitty." I'm not absolutely positive about that, it could just be a rumor.

I'm also thinking Lobin should bring her collection of chaps (I'm pretty sure she has a collection now) and model them for us. By the way all of these ideas are strictly mine and were not discussed at tonight's um, leeting because I know most of you weren't there and I feel bad about that but it's the 8th day of summer break and 8 days evidently became one too many and I really, really, really needed to not cook chicken tonight. So I'm lorry.

Also by the way, Loan, where the hell are you?! Did you buy your own chaps and have you asphyxiated yourself by trying to put them on OVER your head? It's from the bottom up girlfriend. Always remember: pleather can be deadly. You need to contact someone so we don't worry about you. Maybe your chaps are stuck on your love handles and you are unable to type because you got your fingers stuck in them too. Try typing with your tongue. We're here for you Loan and we can help. Just write damn it, write.

Wow! Or Rather Low!!

Wow. Those last comments left me breathless and urineless. Unfortunately I wasn't wearing the Depends but fortunately I was wearing the Dora undergarments. Again, unfortunately, I was wearing them to pad my bra (thanks to Loan). But! Fortunately! I made it to the toilet in time despite the five kids and one dog I tripped over to get there! So it all worked out and my bra is still padded so Tim is in for a surprise!

I'm on my second full day of summer vacation. I've accomplished a lot including (but not limited to) ignoring the breakfast dishes, going to work, ignoring the lunch dishes, napping, ignoring the dog, moving the dishes around and ignoring them some more, piddling around outside, rinsing off two dishes and walking away, walking by the laundry room and pretending I don't know what's behind that door, ignoring my three kids and their two cousins and postponing cooking dinner which is what I'm doing right now! Dang! I'm exhausted!

We need to get our emergency meeting on the books. I'd say tonight works for me because for some reason I feel well rested but I'm thinking most of you won't even read this until tomorrow so somebody throw a date out there. Lobin is leaving for vacation soon so we might have to wait until the end of June. But this can't wait forever. Tomorrow is the third day of summer break so I might have to start my own Bar-D Camp here at home. Don't let me drink alone without chaps.

Help Me

I've heard the word "mom" 53 times.

I've heard "I don't know what to do" six times and "What can I do?" eight times followed by eight whines of "but I don't WANT to fold laundry."

I've heard "I'm hungry" eleven times.

I've been asked to prepare 6 separate meals.

I've been handcuffed once.

I've been asked to locate a Nintendo DS game 5 times. (still haven't found it.)

I've been asked to paint toe nails, get the baby pool out of the attic get out the sprinkler, go out to eat and just plain go somewhere three times.

I've been scorned, snubbed and ticketed (by a six year old police officer) and told I'm the best mom ever.

It is now 4pm. I only have 9 weeks, 4 days and 8 hours left of summer break. Glad the first day is almost over.

Yes, What The "L"??

Holy "L"!! You women need constant supervision. I'm ashamed to say I've been neglecting my blogging duties. (Hey Loan, that's duty not doodie.) Someone needs to be in charge here and keep you women in line and gosh-dilly-dang-it I guess that's me. Responsibility gives me a rash.

So let's review while I scratch myself. Loan is insane - God love her. Lobin may or may not have several issues which need to be addressed by a professional, possibly a urologist and maybe a dermatologist since she's probably developed a rash from wearing used chaps she bought at Tractor Supply from a guy named Barry. Laren wears Depends (or maybe Pampers with Dora the Explorer on them but that's really none of my business). And Lill seems fairly normal except for the fact that she owns two (plastic) margarita pitchers (guess that's better than rubber?) which really when you think about it is not normal at all. And where is Laleen? Obviously not keeping up with my blog.

I am all for setting up an emergency Bar D camp meeting (and by the way LOVE our secret phrase Loan- "What the "L"?". You are a genius and genius and insanity go hand in hand you know.) I do have a couple um, disclosures I need to make. One, I'm not Irish either (well, maybe a little bit) although my favorite color is green. I am mostly I-talian which means my legs will be shaven, eyebrows plucked and nose hairs trimmed on a daily basis come hell or a short water supply so as not to frighten any small children or animals. There are other I-talian factors to my anatomy that I won't go into right now but you can ask my father-in-law and he'll tell you. (Wait, something is wrong with that statement.) And three I'm not great with alcohol. Two sips of wine and I'll be wrapped around my portable dance pole making pole impressions on my face while providing a slick of drool.

(Oh and five, I don't really have a portable dance pole I just said that to make myself sound more exotic but I do have a mop and a broom if that works for anybody.)

"L"ogistics

Loan - how I envy your love handles and possibly your pole skills as well. Although I won't really know for sure until I see you in action at Bar-D Camp.

I think Laren is "in" because she enlightened us about your pole skills and she has cleats. I don't know exactly what the cleats are for but I want to find out.

I had no idea Lobin had chaps. I've known her for like 20 years and I can't believe she doesn't tell me these things! Do you know how hard it is to find a good pair of chaps? I hope they're not pleather. God love her.

I think it's time we work out some logistics of Bar-D Camp. Let's start with location. I think ideally it should be at a bar. (I came up with that myself.) It doesn't need to be a large place since right now our camp has about 7 participants but there are a few requirements it seems. As of right now they are:

1) margaritas
2) plastic pitcher (love handle friendly) and glasses provided by Lill
2) pole
3) zipline

I think any bar can provide the margaritas, I've got the pole (it's in my bedroom but it's travel size for easy mobility). The zipline is a little trickier. We might have to resort to something more mundane like a cab.

Now that I think about it maybe we should have this camp in a place with very dim lighting. I'm a little concerned about Loan using her love handles in a public place especially while wearing a fanny pack. Maybe a cave would be good.

It Takes A Lillage

Well, there you have it. It does take a village. Jill (or rather Lill) has a plastic margarita pitcher. Lill, you're in. Just so you know you'd be in without the plastic margarita pitcher. We need to make sure and include my other sisters-in-law besides Lobin and Lammy. There's also Lusan Marie and Lusan Jane and Tim's sister Linda (huh, that didn't work). And my sister Lolleen.
Each one of these ladies has special skills to contibute to our camping experience.

Joan, since you'll be fully dressed I'll allow the fanny pack. I understand your hestitation with relations of any kind. Not to worry I won't even allow hugging. And you can use your love handles however you see fit. Being the mother of twins I've often had to be very creative with the appendages I have. I'd like to see your love handles in action. Wait, that sounds weird. Ok, forget I said that.

Now I know several more people who might be interested in Bar-d Camp so I propose those interested comment on what, if any, special skills or talents they have that could contribute to our camp. For instance, secretarial skills or table dancing.

Thanks.

Dear Joan,

I started to comment to your comment that I had commented to and realized you know, I could actually make this a post. This is my blog, I can do that.

At first I thought you were going to paint those armpit stains with fabric paint but then realized it was the logo you were going to change. Don't work so hard on those stains. Purple sparkly armpits could be a new fashion statement and I've got plenty of paint.

As far as I'm concerned you can comment on my blog infinitely. I've only been doing this about a year and I haven't really figured out all the etiquette and nuances as that would require me to do more than just write. That would require research. Which would require more of my time. (I like to italicize the dirty words.) Besides this is the most comments I've gotten the past year.

I hope the sudden elevation to camp director of my bar-hopping momma's camp hasn't scared you. I know you can handle it. Besides you've already named the camp. You obviously have drinking skills and that's really all the position requires. There are some other abilities that are a plus for this position like recruiting skills (waving a pitcher of margaritas in front of a bunch of stressed out moms), teamwork and employee relations (being able to flag down a waitress in under 1 minute and flirting with the bouncer when necessary) and socializing (cussing). Your 31 years of cohabitation tells me you can do it all and in my camp, unlike at home, you can do it all fully dressed. Or not. I guess that's up to you and any police officers in the vicinity.

Now all we need is a designated driver....

Camp This

I am a Super Freak. At least that's what I feel like after last week. We were hit by the stomach flu, which by the way, we just had a month and a half ago. Sickness makes me crabby. Well, that and I just realized we only have 3 weeks of school left.

I've been working on the summer schedule. Trying to fit in band with swimming with tennis with golf and with swim lessons. For some reason it all has to happen the first two weeks of summer break except golf. That's why I'm starting my own adult summer camp called Bar Hopping For Sanity. The great thing about my camp is you only pay for your drinks - you don't even have to get the t-shirt if you don't want to. Camp is open every night during the week (and on weekends too!) and if for some reason you miss a day you can mix yourself a cocktail at home! It's ingenious I tell you.

Bleck!

Holy crap. Sorry for the profanity but I've been ill. I wanted to blog yesterday but all I could think of was a stream of cuss words so I decided against it. Guess I'm still not feeling great.

It's the stomach flu. Eva got it Sunday. I got it yesterday morning and Isaac got it about 2pm yesterday afternoon. I had to go pick him up at school and I'm sure just the sight of me probably caused more people to get sick.

Isaac proceeded to empty the entire contents of his stomach and then some. Fortunately Tim came home from work so that I was free to lay on my bed and moan. I never got physically sick I just felt like a pile of crapola. I kept thinking I'll start feeling better soon and I was worrying that Isaac would be sick for 5 days again.

By 7pm I was moaning louder and Isaac was bouncing around making his goofy faces looking for some work to do because he was bored. What the????

This morning I heard clanking in the kitchen at 6:30am. I finally dragged myself out of bed to find Isaac making us all breakfast. He had toasted bagels for everyone and gotten out my favorite box of cereal (which I couldn't eat). But he's staying home from school today not because he's not in top form but because I would look like a bad mother if I sent him. It's really all about me you know.

Maya wasn't feeling great either so she's home as well. Which works out fine because she can entertain Isaac while I go lie down and moan some more.

No, I'm Not Done Yet, M-a-n-i-p-u-l-a-t-i-o-n, Part 3

Evidently cavemen were good manipulators or we wouldn't be here. Thank God for birth control.

And thoughts of birth control bring me back to my own little family. (Kind of like If You Give A Mouse A Cookie.)

Isaac is refining his skills as a child manipulator. As a baby we were all wrapped around all ten of his cute pudgy little fingers. We've wisened up to his ways. Unfortunately he's still stinkin' cute so we all fold at some point. Even Maya and Eva. His time will come though. He's going to have to step up his game if he wants to play in this family.

And while Maya also has great skills in this area her technique is different. Or I should say similar because I know it so well. Her skills definitely fall from my side of the gene pool. She starts with the sad eyes and moves her way into guilting you and ultimately dings you with a touch of "then you're really not that great of a mom are you?" or "you're failing me as a parent". Not literally, she's much too good for that. While she may leave me feeling like a failure there is a bit of reassurance in knowing she'll hopefully use this skill out there in the real world.

Eva is like Tim. She can drag on a discussion until I'm wondering what my name is. Eva will go to great lengths to figure out how to get out of doing anything physical. She is gifted at getting people to do things for her. Last week she must have been a little too tired when she tried this one:

Tim told Eva the other morning that she needed to drink some water since they had just gone for a swim so that she wouldn't get dehydrated. Eva was standing in the kitchen at the time. She looked up at me and asked "Do you have any of that in here?" Not unlike your husband asking where you keep the ice. I told her as far as I knew it was still coming out of the faucet. I refrained from saying "you know that silver thing in the middle of the sink where I was just standing washing the dishes with the waahh-terrrrr."

M-a-n-i-p-u-l-a-t-i-o-n Part 2

So it takes one to know one which simply means I am one and I know a few, OK, several. Manipulators that is. I can think of 4 that I'm related to off the top of my head in my immediate family. And yes, that is my entire family. It's a gift. Some families have musical talent or athletic abilities, we're master manipulators.

It wasn't until quite recently that I realized just how masterful some of my family members are at this particular skill. Tim has a special gift of not only manipulating but confusing the hell out of me so I don't even know when I'm manipulated. He's so good at it I just figured it out last week. Since we've been married almost 18 years I'm either really, really slow or he's really, really good. I'm going to go with the latter.

Let's just take a little walk back in time and consider where this most valuable skill might have developed. I envision cavemen, cave women and cave kids all doing what cave people did when they lived in caves. The men would go out and stalk prey and kill something and bring it home to cook over a fire. And like today I'm sure they spent most of their day "making" that fire and then discussing their accomplishments. The women were out gathering berries one at a time and green leafy things with a baby tied to their backs. After spending 9 hours picking wild berries, taking care of their cave kids (since they were raised in a cave you know they never listened the first time) and dodging saber toothed tigers they came back home to a messy cave (probably full of deer innards) just in time to whip up that wild greens salad with the 8 berries she found (OK, they were probably a little more plentiful).

But that point is, and I do have a point, is that by the end of that long cave day that cave woman had as much interest in reproducing her species as I did while breastfeeding twins. That is where manipulation comes in. 'Cause you know and I know that that caveman was just like any other man and he wasn't closing his eyes until he tried his caveman moves. Now some people might call it seduction but I'm talking about a hairy caveman with b.o. and maybe a few teeth. Seduction isn't even on the table. M-a-n-i-p-u-l-t-i-o-n.

And I'm not done yet.

M-a-n-i-p-u-l-a-t-i-o-n

Sometimes the mean ol' mom has to crack down. I cracked down on Eva last night for failing to tell us that she needed to study for her science test over the weekend. Sure, I could have looked on the 2 foot calendar hanging on my kitchen wall and I would have known this but that's beside the point.

And just to get it off my chest, the point here is is that Eva will go to great extents to make things work in her favor. It's called manipulation.

It's not that I think manipulation should be punished. After all, I see it as a survival skill. We all have the ability to manipulate to some degree. And I believe we learn it very, very early in life. If you feel, oddly enough, that you are being manipulated by your 6 month old let me just tell you - you are. And if you think you have never been manipulated by your 2 year old let me just tell you - you are a sucker. Like I said it's a survival skill and survival skills you are born with. It's right up there with the sucking reflex, working your environment to get what you want.

Now Eva has to endure a week without the use of her Nintendo DS and I have to endure a week of Eva without her DS. The lesson here: Yes, God (and your dad) gave you the gift of manipulation but think twice before you try it out on you mother.

More about this later....

The Boob Tube

Mondays I sit down, turn on the boob tube (literally in this case) and check out the dancing. I'm a Dancing With The Stars addict. (And I italicized addict because I have a serious addiction to that show and I just found the italicize button on my toolbar.)

There are usually two things that happen when I get into the show: 1) I feel sorry for Edyta that she's been stuck with such an unsightly figure - poor thing. 2) I wonder, when Tim is in the room watching with me, if he's actually watching the dancing. 3) I plan on how I'm going to save up for the 14 inch disco ball that is going to replace the ceiling fan in my living room and 4) I envision myself dancing with Maks in a skimpy little piece of cloth- only I have Edyta's body and hmm, maybe her face. I'll keep my hair, it's big. And if Maks wants to wear only a skimpy little piece of cloth I'm OK with that too. So that was 4 things. I'm hormonal and this makes counting difficult.

So tonight I'm wandering around my house flipping channels and raiding Easter baskets because DWTS is not on. It's always hard coming down after a high. I guess I can resort to American Idol but their contestants are so, um, fully dressed.

Drinking, Inclimate Weather and Shoes

It's been raining here since well, yesterday. I was about to say last Friday because it feels like it's been raining for 4 days but it hasn't. It's just been raining every other day for the past 30 days. It's just so gray or grey if you prefer but however you spell it's d-r-e-a-r-y. The weatherman says that we should see the sun on Thursday. I'm trying to act all casual about it like, "yeah that'd be cool" kinda like a moody teenager so, you know, the universe doesn't sense my desperation and scoff at me. But my insides are saying "Where is the freakin' sun? I'm going to die from vitamin D deficiency! Get me a gin and tonic!" (I'm not sure what gin and tonic has to do with vitamin D deficiency but it's seems like a drink with a lime should come with sunshine).

I do love a good spring storm at night though. (Hence, the music - It's Maniacal Late Musical Titillating Tuesday. It's my blog I can do this.) You get to get all warm and snuggly in bed with your significant other and listen to the thunder rumble and watch the lightning brighten up the room. Of course, it hasn't been just Tim and I in our bedroom during a storm for the past twelve years so I'm not really sure what I'm talking about. And then sometimes you end up squeezing all 6 of your family members (this includes the dog) into the bedroom closet amid stinky shoes (those would be Tim's) and scrapbooking supplies (Tim's again, er, ok, mine) because the tornado sirens are going off and you're wondering how you could have ever bought a house without a basement in Indiana. But basements cost money and your twin daughters are now wearing bras and needing shoes in adult sizes.

I'm not sure which kills the mood faster, the thought of two pairs of $55 Nikes that you're not going to be wearing or the tornado down the street.

Bad Boy

Hallelujah! Spring break is over. It was a long week. I must say that the kids had a great week. Although we didn't go anywhere they had plenty, and I mean plenty of time with their cousins. And for the most part they got along great. (At least as far as I know.) Things were a little different when it was just the three of them though. By Thursday I had to tell Maya and Eva enough with the bickering, that it had gone on all week and I was up to my eyeballs in bickering. They responded by bickering at each other about who was the bickerer.

We celebrated Isaac's birthday on Saturday with a cookout. He received way too many gifts. And that was mostly my fault. So next year I'm buying steak and shrimp for the cookout and not buying gifts.

Among the many gifts that Isaac received was a police officer dress up set complete with handcups (yes, I said handcups) and tickets. Isaac has become passionate about law enforcement lately and anyone he finds misbehaving in anyway gets a ticket. Like he gave his Aunt Tammy a ticket for not doing anything. Evidently he felt everyone should be performing a task of some kind. Of course Isaac wasn't performing a task, he was just passing out tickets, but that's law enforcement for you, always above the law.

So you now you know why I've picked this rockin' song for Musical, Maniacal, Malicious Monday. I'm feeling a little mischievous myself. Where are those handcups?

Spring Break

It's spring break here in our little world. I've already decided that my last post of this week will be titled "Spring Break Me".

So far it's been a pretty good one as far as the kids are concerned. We went to a concert Friday night. It was Chris Tomlin, a christian rock singer, and we had seats in a suite where the kids could dance around and move from seat to seat and eat salsa and chips and drink juice and pop and all the water bottles in the entire suite. Then we spent most of Saturday playing outside and then going over to their cousins house for pizza. (Our motto is "If we can't play with our cousins then why are we breathing?") Sunday we went to Indy Island, an indoor swim park with a big tube slide (with our cousins). And we topped the weekend off with having Molly and Emma (our cousins) come over for a sleepover. At that point I said "Aren't I the best mom ever?" (Cause it's not like someone is just going to volunteer that.) No one said anything so I'm just going to assume that's a "yes". We also have a visiting dog for the week, Aggie, so Olive has had a sleepover too. So can spring break be over now? Where's the beach?

I'm having visions of sunny beaches and warm gulf waters. I'm blaming this on Tim's sister, Susan, who is on a sunny beach near the not so warm gulf waters. It's very disturbing to me because here I am looking at my dirty floors and the never ending laundry baskets of clothes waiting to be folded but in my head I see sand and cool lapping waves. But then someone says something nasty to me like "mom" and I see dirty floors again. (And by the way, that's not the same as smelling dust.)

So I picked some spring break party music today because I could use a little Tequila, I mean party music. Here's a picture of my partying spring break crew.



Party on...

An Epidemic

Isaac has been home from school since, well, his last day of school was last Thursday. He has missed 4 days of school. I am starting to miss my sanity. This virus or whatever it is has really hit him hard. Thank the Lord he has been the only one to get it so far.

Tim worked from home today so that I could go to work this morning and run to the grocery this afternoon so I shouldn't complain. But I already did so I'm just going to stick with that pattern. I'm nothing if not consistent.

And I'm still consistently trying to give up sugar and consistently failing miserably. Sugar is in everything. And I really am passionate about sweet things. But I have tried to incorporate more healthy fats in my diet (like the book I'm reading suggests) and ok maybe nacho cheese is not a healthy fat, but I'm trying. I've found that adding the fat without reducing the sugar has caused an interesting effect. That would be the effect of my expanding waist. Huh, isn't that interesting? I keep trying to stand up straighter and taller so my stomach looks more svelte. I'm pretty sure I've pulled a muscle.

But that's all ok because I'm still consistently inconsistently working out. (No that's not a typo.) This is not only good for my new diet and expanding waistline (something sounds wrong there?) but because next week is spring break and working out is the antidote to my kid-induced stress. I guess that would make my children a virus or something. Huh, interesting.

In preparation for the upcoming viral epidemic (spring break) and for the not-to-distant summer break (there should be a vaccination for that, moms would pay big money) the best thing for me to do would be to go workout tonight and sweat out the image of my kids hanging all over me like baby opossums on their mommy opossum. Or... I could bury myself in my book with a bowl of moose tracks ice cream. Hmm... sugar and fat together in a nice little frozen concoction, sounds like a viral vaccine to me.

Sick Monday

It's Maniacal Monday all right. It's not feeling very musical. Isaac is home sick today with the stomach flu. It just breaks my heart to see him so sick. He was throwing up every 20 minutes last night until 3:00am. That's too much information I know. He was so tired and his stomach just wouldn't let him sleep.

So he's feeling a little better as of 12:00 today. He has managed to keep down three bites of toasted bagel. The musical pick today is for Isaac and his illness. I couldn't find any songs about puking up your guts all night long well, I think I did but they had that little "explicit" sign next to them so I thought, eh, maybe not a good idea.

Enjoy your Maniacal Previously Masticated Musical Monday.

(Eww....gross.)

Cravings

Ok, where did the week go? I know it's not over yet but it will be - in two short days. I'm having a little trouble adjusting to my new schedule of working in the mornings. Time is flying by and the laundry is piling up. It's perplexing to me. I throw a load in and then a little later I move the load into the dryer and throw another load in. And then before you know it I have 5 baskets of laundry to fold which are crammed into 3 laundry baskets. And then I get cranky because the next day I have three more loads to wash and I still have 5 baskets to fold and I gave up coffee for Lent. It still haunts me.

So I'm still working through the coffee thing. I've been good. I tried to count the days that I've gone without coffee but I got frustrated and ripped the calendar off the wall and threw it on the floor and then jumped up and down on it until I lost my breath (that was 2 and half jumps.) Actually that's a lie. I don't have enough energy to jump up (the down part happens automatically) so I just kicked it across the floor. And I felt much better. Although I kicked it under the fridge and that's a bummer.

Ok, really, I have to admit that I'm much better off without caffeine. I still want it, but I'm much better off without it, kinda like I'm much better off without Maks from Dancing With The Stars...






I would also be much better off without sugar. But this I can't seem to let go of - kinda like Mmm....nevermind. Just like with any "diet" you try to deny yourself something and all of the sudden you can't live without it. (Where does Maks live? LA?) So over the weekend I had cheesecake on Friday a brownie sundae on Saturday and a lemon bar on Sunday. And then there's the Girl Scout Cookies, the ice cream and the box of Lucky Charms in the cupboard taunting me.

There's a lesson in here somewhere. A parable or a bible story to tell me why I need to let these things go. But I'm not going to look that up right now. I need a cookie, a nap and Ma... a glass of wine.

Cha Cha Cha

Wow. It's Monday. How does this happen every week?

That's ok because not only is it Magical Maniacal Mandibular Musical Monday but it is also Dancing With the Stars Monday!!! Throw in some vintage music from the 60's and 70's, a disco ball and maybe a Cha Cha or a Rhumba and Mondays are worth living for.

Spring is very slowly emerging here in central Indiana. I was thrilled to see how well my tulips are growing but slightly disappointed because they are growing in a Ziploc bag in my garage. I now see the point of planting them in the ground. Did you know "slothiness" is one of the 7 Deadly Sins? Well, it is and I'm a sinner.

So I'm sloughing off my slothiness and posting a Monday song. I'm feeling spring and I'm also feeling like hanging a disco ball from the ceiling in my living room (this always happens when DWTS is on.) And since we had a full moon last week I'm picking a song that has nothing to do with St. Patty's Day but everything to do with the feelings way down deep in my Dancing With The Stars soul.

So grab yourself a partner and Samba. Enjoy.

Smokin'

I have been remiss. And I think that's ok because I like that word. I wish I could say I have been on vacation but I haven't. I've just been remiss, missing in action, missing a few brain cells, just missing.

So I have a new job. It doesn't feel like a job which I think is good because a job that feels like a job is just a job and when it's a job it just feels like work. I'm pretty sure that makes sense. I'm not entirely sure why but it's Thursday and tomorrow is Friday. Have I mentioned I gave up coffee for Lent?

Hey, I gave up coffee for Lent. It's been, I don't know since the beginning of Lent that I gave up coffee. And I think it's going o.k. I've had a slight headache for about a week and a half. It takes me about 6 hours to wake up everyday which is ok because it's just in time for my nap. I'm a little lacking in motivation but I'm still doing laundry and dishes and cooking dinner and working half days so no one seems to notice. (Can't imagine how they missed it?) So yeah, overall I think this is a good thing. Anyday now I'm sure I'll stop WANTING coffee. I hear it takes 21 days to get over a habit. And it's been.... not 21 days yet. My thoughts are a little scattered but I'm sure that will go away when I can think straighter and not so scattered. Huh.

Caffeine is a drug. I have witnessed it first hand. I was feeling a little down one day because of my lack of motivation. (I didn't WANT to do the dishes. Go figure.) After having an ice tea for lunch that same day I wanted to add on to my house - myself. Then it hit me! I'm a caffeineaholic!! And there's not a twelve step program but fortunately there is Advil and the three children I have that prevent me from burying my head in a pillow for more than 67 seconds.

The really crazy thing is I was drinking maybe a half cup to a cup a day and it was half-caff! This is why I don't drink alcoholic beverages. I'm a wuss. Two sips of wine and I'm three sheets to the wind.

We are all kicking the drug habit here. Tim gave up coffee for Lent as well. And as witnessed in the photo below Isaac does not allow cigarettes at his snack station. In case you were planning on coming over to visit Isaac at his snack station and pulling out a smoke. This is the sign at his snack station. Cigarettes are known in our family as "smokers". (Everyday after school the girls have to go to the snack station where Isaac gives them their choice of a granola bar or fruit snacks. He keeps post it notes on the boxes to show how many are left in each box. My little anal retentive cutie pie.)

It says:

No Books Ulawd (allowed, isn't he brilliant)
No paper allowed (I guess paper and snacks just don't mix.)

And underneath the lovely graphic symbol:
No smokers allowed

The kicker is it looks like we haven't only given up coffee and cigarettes for Lent but also smoking weenies by the look of the art work.

Huh.

Isaac

Well, my little man is now without both of his front teeth....



He says he looks funny. And I'm thinking wait until those gigantic permanent teeth pop out of your little bitty head! We have decent size teeth in my family. They are a little daunting looking on a kid but they work well for an adult. I can only imagine how they will look on all 35lbs of Isaac. Maybe they'll be heavy and he'll gain another pound when they come in.

I'm thinking though that there is going to be more spit flying around my house with that hole in his smile. Isaac has developed this condition which causes him to either be in active combat mode or plane flying mode or car crashing mode. All three of which require the same noise which entails a lot of spit flying out of his mouth.

It can happen anywhere. Sometimes it's like he spontaneously combusts and he just starts "phtttttt-ing". Weren't we just sitting quietly together watching a movie? Why are you punching the pillow with that car? That's my book not an airplane. That's a tampon not a sword. (I've learned to hide certain things.) One day he got into some mini pads. And let me just say this kid has a fetish with things that stick. I think I only had to remove one from his shirt. I figured that was better than when Eva discovered them and stuck one in the appropriate place on the OUTSIDE of her pants. I had to give her points for knowing where it went.

I use to let Isaac take small toiletry items in his backpack as toys to play with when we went somewhere because he loved to play with them. Then one day I looked in his backpack and saw Vagisil. We stopped doing that.

Marchy-Parchy

So I'm feeling lucky today. Perhaps it's a little luck 'o the Irish. Mostly because, I think, it is no longer Blah-blah-blahbruary. It's March! And it's really hard to change the name March into something cheerier like say, Marchorea or Marcharoni or Marchissimo, maybe Marchy-parchy. Or maybe not.

But hey, not only is it March but it's the first Magical Musical Non-Malignant Monday of March. There are so many things to look forward to in March. St. Patty's Day and March Madness, windy days and St. Patty's Day and ice storms and green beer and wearing green underwear (like you don't like wearing your green skivvies on Patty's Day.) Maybe even a 60 degree day. A 60 degree day with 45 mph winds but hey a 60 degree day is a 60 degree day even if you aren't able to walk upright outside. And plenty 'o rain which turns my backyard to mud and did I mention bad hair days?

But hey, you can't talk me out of feeling lucky today so here's my Monday Melody. Hope it will make you feel lucky today too. Check out my new playlist on the right.

(Note to Tim - I said "feel" not "get".)

It's Still Blah-bruary

I think this is a very interesting picture of our front yard.




It's says we tie our children to a tree with a jump rope, beat them with a golf club and make them drink out of a rusty can.

That's Isaac in the background. He has some kind of serious wagon business going on. Everything Isaac does is serious business.



The gap in his smile is growing on me. Not sure about that hat though.

Olivinia, Olivia, Olive

The dog of many names.

Well, well, well. I tried to do a good deed today and get something done and it all blew up in my face. I took Olive to get her nails clipped. (My mom's hearing is not that great so when I told her what I planned to do today on the phone she said "who are you getting clipped??!" Obviously she has great faith in my parenting skills.) Anyway.... the good deed part is that Olive's nails are so long they are starting to bug her.



Ok, maybe at this point it might be more of a dog abuse thing than a good deed. I put my dog in the car and off we went to Glamour Pets to do the much needed deed. I had a few other stops to make as well but I figured she could handle it.

Well I couldn't find Glamour Pets (it's disappeared) so after much turning around Olive very quietly puked up her guts. At first I thought "Oh good she puked on the drink tray between the two front seats in my mini van." And then I thought "Oh God, she puked on the drink tray between the two front seats in my mini van."

So I skipped the post office and gave up on the nail clipping and drove home holding my breath and trying to keep Olive out of the mess. I've decided I'm going to have to invest in one of those dog pedi things you see on tv for 19.95.

Maya took a video of Olive the other day. I find it soooo very interesting because Olive will bite Maya and not anyone else. Not viciously but playfully and sometimes Olive gets carried away and Maya complains. Tim and I point out to Maya that she's a little instigator and she deserves every little snip she gets. Maya denies it. Well, now I have a bit of proof. Here is a video clip that Maya took of Olive. Let me just preface it by saying that our camera is a wide angle camera so if it looks like Maya was 6 inches away from Olive she was really just 3 inches away from Olive.

Oh My Goodness!

That's Isaac's favorite saying of late. Oh My Goodness!! It's quite cute now but I fear if he continues using this phrase when he's six he'll get beat up. He'll be six in April. We have some work to do.

He had good reason to say it on Sunday when he lost his first big front tooth. It's not the first tooth he has lost but it's one of those prominent ones that changes his whole look. As you can see here still with a little blood on his shirt....nice..



I was trying to prepare myself for this because I knew it was loose. I thought I had at least a week or two however. I think it would have been another week or two except he was wrestling with Eva and something happened to cause the tooth to come out. Hmmmm... I'm still not entirely sure what that something was but Eva was proud of the fact that she helped Isaac lose that tooth. As you can see here...



It's weird. All these little milestones that I was so excited to see happen with the girls because it meant they were growing up are the same little milestones that are happening with Isaac that bring tears to my eyes because he's growing up!! Just another case for motherhood as a bipolar disorder. Tim doesn't seem to be having the same issues as I as you can see here...



But I'm dealing with this as best I can as you can see here.....

Monday, Monday

Here it is. Monday again. I'm just thankful all my little kiddies got on the bus this morning. I'm sick with a cold and Eva is having stomach issues which I believe are on the mend so it's just good to be home alone and sick. I mean, it's not good to be sick but at least I'm at home sick - alone.

Well this day is just wasting away and I've yet to pick a pick for Maniacal Mystical Musical Monday. It's still Blah-bruary which makes it hard to be inspired. It even makes it hard to be inspired to try and be inspired. But I have a cool little tool that you should be noticing any moment. It's my new play list. If you scroll way down you'll see it on the right. You should be hearing it right now. You can click on the bottom right button and create your very own. I found this on the sight www.thehappyhousewife.com. Check out the site. Lot's of useful stuff for mom's trying to make it all work, especially if you're trying to make it all work on one income.

So you don't just get one song for your Monday you get six! Happy Blahbruary the 23rd!

Sweet February

Knock, Knock
(Let me help you with this.)
"Who's there?"
"Blah"
"Blah who?"
"Blah-bruary"

Ha! I'm so not funny. I need a Prozac. Is it spring yet? Is it at least March? Can someone send me one of those light therapy thingies? And maybe a bee-bee gun for my robin?

I know this is wrong. I'm wrong. I think there's only one thing that can fix this mood. Yes, you're right. Neil Diamond. It's not Musical Mischievous Monday. It's Thursday. I'll call it "Let's Not Get Mired Down In The Funk Thursday". Or maybe "Thought This Would Be Better Than Me Whining Thursday."

When I was little I used to put on my parents Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow albums and dance to them in the living room while my parents cooked us Sunday breakfast after church. It's a blissful memory because I lived with 6 other people and no one would disturb me during my dance fest. (Usually the bathroom was the only room you'd find yourself alone in, and even that didn't last very long.) I can only assume they were embarrassed for me. God bless 'em.

More recently Tim and I sang this particular song at a talent show last summer during our trip to Alabama. We had some dance moves too. It was very memorable. It became one of the many songs that would forever be the theme of that vacation. I think this song will really help with this whole "blah" issue I have. And since I'm sure I'm not alone here I'm sharing it with you. Get out your cell phone and wave your arms in the air and sing along. You can't not know the words.... Touchin' me....Touchin' you!!!

Blahbruary

Almost everyday I can look out my front window as I sit here at my computer and look at my robin. Yes, my own personal vestige of spring. He's still here. It's still cold. And gray. And it's going to be colder tomorrow. Lately I can feel my lip curl up in a snarl when I see him. He's just taunting me with possibilities of warmer weather and green grass. I'd like to give him a little flick with my fingers. Maybe a kick in his birdie butt and ask him what the hell he was thinking showing up here in January?!!

I'm a little cranky. Some people think I'm a little pessimistic. A glass half full kinda girl. A sour puss. A depressed freakazoid. You get the picture. It's not entirely true. It's mostly true. But see, it just gives me a something to work toward. I've created for myself a definitive goal of future blissdom. What are all those happy people working toward anyway? I've got goals. Ambitions. Who am I kidding? Blah, I've got blah.

It's February. I've been an awful, uncommitted blogger lately. I'm blaming it on the month. I think some wise people from some distant wise land probably spell February b-l-a-h. I don't know these people but they are obviously very wise.

So I'm not sure what my point here is other than forgive me for that week off I took. I can't guarantee it won't happen again, especially during Blahbruary. Blah. (And bleck too, since I'm in the mood.)

Totally Titillating Tuesday

Since I blew Maniacal Musically Misdirected Monday yesterday by not posting I thought I'd move my musical post to Tuesday. Better late than never.

I was going to post a sing-a-long version of America The Beautiful but I couldn't find one that would work. This was in honor of me having to lead Mrs. Hawk's second grade class in song last Thursday when I was substituting. It shouldn't have been allowed. Not the substituting part but the singing part. The kids were great. I could only secretly laugh at myself as their eyes widened along with my song. God bless them. Or rather, God bless me.

I spent today at Junior Achievement's Biztown with Maya my (one of two) fifth graders. The concept for Biztown is for kids to spend a day in a real working "town" with banks, lawyers, restaurant, newspaper, etc., so they can see how business and money make the world go round. My day was pretty easy as I assisted kids in a general office area. Maya's was a little more stressful as she was the CEO of one of the banks. So in honor of my mini mogul and all you hard working people out there... this one's for you. I think I might learn this dance so I can do it right before I serve dinner every night.

Love Is In The Air

Whoa. I'm really late with today's post especially if you consider the fact that this should be Thursday's post. My bad.

I blame my children. I also blame Tim. I think I'll just go ahead and blame my parents as well even though I'm 41 years old. I just don't feel like carrying any burden of responsibility these days. So it's not my fault.

Ok, it's my fault. (The guilt always gets me in the end.) I'm slow today but I've been thinking about today's post since it is Musical, Maniacal, Mentally Challenged Monday. I asked Tim to help me out here. I was thinking it might be appropriate to pick a song about love since Valentine's Day is Saturday. I suggested Queen's Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Tim said "Yeah, Queen, how about Fat Bottom Girls?" How about not?

But I've posted Queen before and I really need a song that goes deep and saturates (I like that word) the atmosphere with Love, Love, LOVE! So I decided to take a little stroll down memory lane and post the song that Tim and I danced to at our wedding. Grab some Kleenex or maybe just someone to dance with and your mullet. Happy Valentines Day!