Confessions of a Quasi Pseudo Soccer Mom

Stupid Mouse

2009-06-10T20:34:00.000-07:00

My life is on hold. A couple of weeks ago I left my laundry room door open and Bob flipped out. Then, THEN he told me that he saw something scatter in there when he went in the other day. Okay, I could have happened upon this thing without any warning and I cannot begin to explain the series of events that would follow something like that. I believe there are some references in the Book of Revelations.

So from that point on, I knocked on the door before entering. I can't get anyone in my house to check and see if the bathroom is occupied, or if I'm dressed before entering a room, but for the mouse? We knock. Far be it for us to be rude and interrupt a nice meal. Bob put out glue traps. For about 3 days the traps were empty and we thought maybe it had been a spider. I'm not going to lie, it looked like something prehistoric to me, but I once thought a rat the size of my fist was the size of a jackrabbit so there you go.

Saturday morning, at 6am, Bob woke me up saying "I got it!". I knew immediately of course because my entire life had been focused on the demise of this rodent. He took the thing, put it in the trash and stuck it in the polycart. We figured with the heat and lack of air in there, it would suffocate for sure.

Bob came home that afternoon, and went to check and the sonofabitch was loose from the trap. I guess the heat melted the glue. I don't know. But I do know that a blade of grass hit my ankle and I screamed like a banshee causing every dog in the neighborhod to go on high alert. I also may have wet myself but I'm not sure. We stood in the yard looking at each other, wondering what to do about this. I wanted it gone, out of the damn neighborhood. My mom said to throw it over the fence. Again, I don't think so. I don't want that thing running back to the mouse bar telling all it's friends that it knows of a good place to get a bite to eat, and if you get caught, the old lady lets you go. I'll have every mouse in town up in here.

So yesterday morning I asked Bob to please get me something out of the laundry room. He laughed at me, said "the mouse is gone" and I told him that you never know, I was still a little jumpy. He opened the door, shut the door, and said "oops". Yeah, there was another one stuck on a damn trap. Well you know what this means. There's a nest! There is a nest of mice in MY laundry room. I swear if I could afford it I would leave this rodent hotel and check into the new LaQuinta. My mother in law offered to let me stay with her but hell, she's got a mouse too. And her mouse comes out to watch The View and drink coffee with her every damn morning!

So, I'm not proud to say that Bob took the mouse and put it in a bag and ran over it with the car. We're sending out a message to the mouse community that they are not welcome here. I can just see somebody coming to look at the house, fall in love with the kitchen cabinets and open the damn laundry room door to see some sort of mouse kegger going down in the dog food bin.

I realize that to some people, a mouse problem is minor. But for me, this is catastrophic. This is like being thrown into the polar bear cage at the zoo with a steak tied around my waist. This is baaaaad. This is so very baaaaad. I am terrified of mice, and I don't care if they are afraid of me because they can run and hide. I can't hide. Where the hell am I going to hide? I can't crush my bones and run under a baseboard. I'm lucky if I can hide in a closet. Which I would not do around here because it's dark and MICE LOVE THE DARK. I am afraid to reach into the cabinets. I sent my 4 yr old to get toilet paper out from under the bathroom sink because I was afraid to. I flip out and lose my mind if the back door is open. I can't handle a mouse.

So what do we do? We have a rat terrier, but she's afraid of the dark and she's so spoiled that unless it had a nice Pesto sauce on it she's not touching it. I would get a cat, but I hate cats. The cat would have to live in that room because I don't want it running around my house or God forbid dropping a dead mouse on my lap. Oh my Lord I just now thought of that one. Screw the cat idea. What kind of traps do we get? Humane ones? No I want them gone. The glue? That's just nasty (I mistook a piece of paper for a mouse foot this morning. I made my friend Andy get my vaccum out for me). I like the idea of that stuff that they eat and die and then turn to dust with no smell. I don't want to happen upon any skeletons or a family in there if we ever sell this damn house (don't get me started) and move everything out of there. I'm not a mean person, I have compassion, I don't want them to be scared. If I was sending them back a little fear would be ok because if it went back with a limp and told the other mice that I'm a psycho then they would all stay away.

And I realize that the chances of there being a little burger joint for mice is not likely. But I've seen enough Disney movies to feel like it's not wise to rule it out 100%.

So for now, we will continue to knock on the door before we go in. Or Bob will because I'm never stepping foot in there again. When I think of all the rummaging I did before I knew about this, and all the times that one could have scuttered over my hand I just have little heart attacks. Hopefully the varmint man will come and rid us of this curse. Because nothing says "buy my house" like the Rid o' Rat truck parked out front.

2009-06-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

6 Years Ago Today

2009-05-27T13:29:00.001-07:00

I gave up trying to sleep at about 3:30am and took a shower. I had a little talk with Jack and with God, just making sure we were all three on the same page, that we all three wanted things to go well. I woke Bob up at around 4am after I had some time alone. I didn't really talk much, I was very focused and there wasn't much to say. This is unusual for me because I am not a fan of silence. I told the dogs goodbye while Bob loaded my stuff up in the car. It was still dark outside and I sort of looked around. I can't really explain how I felt but it was something.

We got to the birthing center at 5:30am when it was still dark outside, again I didn't talk much on the way there. When we got to the room, they started getting me all ready. I was hooked up to the heart monitor and I could hear him in there swooshing. I got the IV's and I filled out all the paperwork. I tried to get a minute to talk to Bob, but things went so fast. For some reason I thought that I might need something to occupy my time while I was in the hospital. Yeah. Right. The anesthesiologist came in to give me my epidural before the surgery. I was on my side and I felt the needle go in, when it did I dug into Bob's hand, I believe there is a scar there to this day in fact. I felt something go "POP" in my lower back. After that he told me that he couldn't do an epi so he was going to have to put me to sleep. Finally I showed some emotion. I wasn't happy, I was crying, I was nearly hysterical. My mom wasn't there, I hadn't had a chance to talk to Bob and now I was going to be unconcious? Things really flew then, and I was being wheeled down the hall towards the OR, I kept saying "wait, wait, wait" and finally I said "WAIT!" They stopped and I grabbed Bob's hand and told him that I loved him and that if anything happened he needed to let Jack know that I loved him more than life itself. As I was rolled away, I told thanked the nurse for giving me a minute because how horrible would it be if my last words were "wait"? That would suck.

The next thing I remembered was waking up and seeing a clock on the wall. I had totally forgotten what I was there for apparently, but I would soon remember when the evil lady started pushing on my stomach. I smacked her hand away and she told me that she had to do it, I informed her that she should have done it 5 minutes earlier when I was still asleep. Geez. Then I remembered I had a baby! I asked about him and they told me that he was perfect, I then asked how big he was. I remembered that I had an 11lbs baby. Bob came walking through, bouncing actually and I said his name. He remembered that I was there, and I asked him how Jack was and I will never forget the look on his face, or the sound of his voice when he said "he's so perfect baby, he's awesome". When I think about that I cry to this day. Because my stoic husband was a smitten kitten.

At some point, after being left alone forever, they brought in a bundle of blankets. They showed me Jack and I said "that's not my baby, my baby is BIG". He was tiny, and he was the most beautiful thing I had ever laid eyes on. I was drunk as all get out, and I hurt like nobodies business, but I knew perfection when I saw it. I held him, and he grunted. I never put him down after that. Only when they made me. He slept on the bed with me, all bundled up in his blankets with his binky from home that we had brought going 90mph in his mouth. The day is fuzzy, but I do remember the moment that changed it all.

At one point, they came and got him from me to do whatever tests. I dozed off, and when I opened my eyes he was laying in front of my bed, in his bassinet, on his side. He had on the hat, he was wrapped up and he was sucking on that binky like his life depended on it. He looked my right in the eye (or it seemed, Darvocet is goooood stuff) and he stopped for a minute sucking on that thing. He looked at me as if to say "what?" then he started up again. It hit me at that moment, that I was his mom. I cried, and I woke Bob up to hand him to me. I sat there in the semi dark, while Bob snored and I stared at him and cried. I just loved him so much I couldn't stand it. It literally hurt my heart to look at him. He was just so amazing.

Bob woke up once that night, he asked me if I was ok, and I then if Jack was ok. I probably nodded yeah and went back to staring at him. I still do that sometimes, I look at him and my heart nearly stops. I get choked up and I think about how blessed I am to be his mom. Because he's a hell of a kid. He is everything I ever wanted in a little boy. He's funny, he's smart, he's happy. He finds everything good in the world and he laughs big when he laughs. He treats others with kindness and he always backs up the underdog. He never picks on other kids (besides his sister) and he never makes anyone feel bad. He tells me daily that he loves me and that I'm the best mom in the world. When he hugs me, he holds on like he never wants to let go. He's a daddy's boy, but he loves his mom. And his mom loves him.

6 Years Ago (pt.4)

2009-05-26T08:03:00.000-07:00

It was the day before Jack's expected arrival, which happened to also be Memorial Day. I had been in bed for nearly a week, and I was going nutso. I had things to do, I wanted the house to be perfectly clean and I wanted all the laundry done. I also needed a baby book. Bob was working, so I was home alone with my thoughts. I called my mother and asked her to come and take me to the mall to get a baby book. I had thought of everything you can imagine up to this point, but not that book.

She took me, and I walked. I just wanted to be out and about, I was feeling good and I didn't want to go back home. When I did get back, I walked around the house and looked at every inch of it. I was not only looking for dirt, I was thinking that this was the last day that our home would be child free. I was thinking about how some day he would be running around here, and locking himself in his bedroom. I was thinking about how one day I would call to him to turn whatever was loud down. Then I cried, because from the day I found out I was pregnant with him, I was terrified that he would be taken away from me, and here I was less than 24 hours away from seeing him.

That evening, my cousin and his wife came by with some gifts and Bob came home with a load of stuff from his co-workers. More stuff to put away! After they left, Bob and I decided to go to dinner, one last time as a childless couple. We sat in the restaurant, and it was later than usual. It was very quiet and very relaxing. I cannot remember exactly what we talked about, but I remember I had butterflies in my tummy and I was very nervous. We went home, and decided that since we had to be up at 4am to be at the hospital by 5:30am, we should just go to bed.

I layed in bed with my mind racing. I moved my head to the foot of the bed and tried that, but I couldn't sleep. I would wake up every few minutes and smile, or cry. Meanwhile, over on the other side of the bed, Mr. Cool was sawing logs. Throughout our entire pregnancy, Bob never showed so much as a slight indication that he was anything but cool and laid back, not a care in the world. However, the next day I would see a completely different person.

to be continued...

6 Years Ago (pt.3)

2009-05-23T08:02:00.000-07:00

I realize I put one year ago on my last post. It's been a rough week.

On the Saturday before I am scheduled for a c/section to have Jack the following Tuesday, it was hot outside and it was Memorial Day weekend. Which is family reunion weekend. Obviously I didn't go, instead I layed in bed and read, and drank water. I was trying to keep that big headed baby in for 3 more days! Bob was working and I was home alone. My Nana came by on her way home from the reunion, and I opened the door wearing my green nightgown (that I wore at the hospital with both of my babies), and apparently I looked hideous because when she saw me she said "oh my gosh, you look so swollen, are you ok?" I wanted to cry because, no, I wasn't ok. I was about to have a baby with an abnormally large head. He was going to be huge. I may or may not have anything to bring him home in because the only clothes I had were up to 3 mths and he was obviously going to be wearing a 2T home. My imagination was slightly out of control, but I had nothing else to think about but this child.

She came in and we sat in the nice cool new a/c and she told me about the reunion. It was nice, she rarely comes by because she doesn't get into town often and I rarely get to spend time alone with her. And I was enjoying having something to distract me from my thoughts.

6 Years Ago (pt.2)

2009-05-20T06:58:00.000-07:00

So I'm one week away from Jack's arrival. But I don't know that yet. My doctor came back into town, and I went for my appt. He looked at the reports, and he checks me to see if I'm anywhere near ready to have this humongous kid.

11lbs+. I started to cry. My nose at this point had doubled in size, my back hurt, my joints all felt disconnected as if preparing to stretch to unimaginable distances. I could no longer see my feet, and flip flops were my only choice in shoes. It was already hot, and it was mid May. I could feel him in there, kicking and rolling, that big head bumping into everything in it's way. 11 pounds plus. It was unimaginable.

The doctor says that he is concerned with my delivering such a large baby with my blood pressure being high and my blood sugar problems. I didn't have gestational diabetes, but I did have some problems that were similar, and my baby was seemingly as big as if I were. So he scheduled a cesarean for May 27th. One week! I had one week, and I was put on bedrest and told to stay off my feet and be very careful, drink lots of water, do not do anything to induce labor. He was taking him about a week early because of the size but he didn't want me to go into labor because again, my baby measured 11 pounds plus. Did I mention that?

My mom, my husband, my sister, they all told me not to worry and that a c/section was a piece of cake. It was about this time that they were installing our new air conditioning unit. Once I found out that he was coming sooner than expected, we rushed that along. So I spent my final week without a child laying in bed, sleeping, reading, doing word puzzles, talking on the phone. I had all the clothes washed, the nursery was ready for his arrival. The house had been remodeled (we were going to do that anyway, Jack was just our motivator to get it done). The baby shower gifts were all in their place, my bag was packed, Jack's bag was packed.

Bob and I had gone shopping the day we found out we were having a boy, and we bought a little blue two piece outfit with a hat. It was tiny, there was no way it was going to fit what I had imagined in my own head this kid was going to be. So I tried to find something bigger. I packed up the little blue outfit, and I packed the bigger outfit. I had diapers for days, itty bitty ones, that I just knew would be worthless, thank God I hadn't opened them. I would just take them back and get the bigger ones. I had bottles, receiving blankets, tons of socks! I was ready for this to happen.

to be continued...

Personality Theories

2009-05-15T19:51:00.000-07:00

I just finished this semester, and personality theories kicked my tushie. I struggled week in and week out, reading the material and then not seeing anything I recognized on any quizzes. I have not struggled much since I went back to school, except for Algebra, I will always struggle with a math, but this class has been incredibly difficult.

Midterm I considered withdrawing from it, or maybe auditing the class so that when I took it next fall it might make more sense. I really thought that it would be an easy class, but I was waaaaay wrong. I pretty much had a low "D" in there at midterm time. I took my midterm late and I would have passed it if I hadn't had to take a 20 point penalty for taking it so late.

I took my final on Thu, and while all semester the material boggled my feeble little mind, the exam was all about putting the theories to use. I realized when I took that exam that I learned something this semester! I might not be able to tell you which psychoanalyst subscribed to which specific theory, but I can tell you everything when stated in practice. I can even analyze my friends! I'm a blast at parties!

I pulled my grade up to a "B". I would have been thrilled with a "C". So there goes my 4.0, but I'm still all up in the honor society and that's cool with me. I am now planning a ceremony to burn this book. S'mores for everyone!

Tornado Warning!

2009-05-14T21:28:00.000-07:00

Late last night we had our first tornado warning of the year. They usually pop up all around us, but we somehow manage to avoid it. My Nana says it has something to do with the river but I don't know. We got home last night and I was all prepared to watch "The New Adventures of Old Christine" and some other shows. But they had all been interrupted by tornado warnings about 200 miles or more away from the metro area. Finally at around 11pm, I tune in and just scrolling across the bottom is a short blip about a tornado warning in our county. But there was no coverage! Hello? Obviously I couldn't sleep, and I called my mother because that's what I do. Bob wasn't waking up, and I have some tornado anxiety, I won't lie.

I waited for the sirens to go off, there is one very near our house. And a couple of times I heard what sounded like it could be an actual tornado. The sound of an approaching train. It was very unsettling. I had a plan to load everyone into my closet and pull a mattress over our heads, or try and make it to the neighbors shelter and locking the dogs into a closet. I tried to decide if I should put on some shorts or something as I was in my nightgown. Not that my nightgown is too revealing, it's just sort of worn out.

Finally I saw that it had moved past us, and we just had some far off thunder and rain. But it reminded us that we can be smack in the middle of one at any time here in tornado alley. The last time we were affected by one was in 1999. You have to figure that our number is due to come up any day now.

So this afternoon I had to go up to OKC and get some baseball pants for my teams. While I was begging for help, I happened upon a local weather anchor who had the entire team at Academy hanging on her every, dripping with honey, word. She was telling them all about what it was like in the newscenter last night during the tornados. And defending her weatherman, insisting that he told the entire community to take shelter! Blah, blah, blah. She was just so sweeeeet. And her makeup was way overdone and her hair looked like crap. I'm just going to be honest. She did not look as good in person as she does on TV. And her outfit was hideous. Even I, in my capris that only stay up because I will them to and my t-shirt that looks like I stole it from Magic Johnson, looked better than her. Hey, none of my clothes fit anymore, and I'm good with that. I'm just sayin'. She did have nice shoes, and I can't say much about those because I was wearing my blue flip flops that have some dog teeth marks.

Anyway, I hope that we get lucky and we can avoid any more tornado warnings. Those sirens, and sounds of gusting wind give me the heebie jeebies somethin' fierce.

6 Years Ago

2009-05-13T20:30:00.000-07:00

I was driving around up near where I had Jack today, and I realized that it was about 6 years ago now that I was going up there weekly for my final month check ups.(Jacks birthday is two weeks from today) I had an ultrasound about this time, and he was measuring to be about an 11 pound baby. This was based on the size of his head. I was terrified! I did not want to try and deliver an 11 pound baby. I had this idea in my head of this humongous baby Huey looking baby with cheeks so chubby that you could not see his eyes. I saw a 6mth old in the waiting room and I just knew that was what Jack would look like when he came out.

I went home that day, stunned by what I had been told. I had no idea what my doctor was going to say about this. I had been having some blood pressure issues, and I was on semi bed rest. All the crazy things that run through your head when you have been told you are having an 11lb baby raced through my bloated pregnant mind. It was right about this time that our A/C had gone out. I was holed up in my bedroom with a window unit a/c and a fan, with nothing to do but think about what was about to happen. Looking back now, I cannot even imagine not having anything to do.

to be continued...

Reality TV

2009-05-11T20:32:00.000-07:00

I'm a reality TV junkie. If it's real, I'm watching it. If there was a show that showed cows chewing cud, I'd watch it. I use to watch Meerkat Manor until a baby Meerkat was taken off by a big mean owl. I heard it crying and knew where it was headed and as I sat there with my heart in my throat, fighting back tears, I swore to never watch the Meerkats again. It was the same feeling I got when I saw the last scene in that movie "Jeepers Creepers". **shakes with the heebie jeebies**

We don't watch quality reality tv. There is no "Dancing With the Stars" or "The Apprentice" being recorded up in here. Although that juicy fight between Joan Rivers and the trashy poker player peaked our interest briefly. Aside from Bob's unnatural obsession with American Idol, we like our reality tv trashy.

Last night after "Keeping Up With the Kardashians", a show called "The Jersey Shore, Unleashed" came on. Being a southern girl, New Jersey people fascinate me. All the men are oily bohunks named "Antny" and all the girls have long french nails, dark tans and chew gum. They also seem to really like to party, and are not at all discriminate about who they party with. Everyone hooks up in Jersey apparently. Who knew?

Bob and I also really enjoy watching "Pretty Wicked". This show is about a bunch of girls who think they are something special but really don't seem to have that much to offer in the looks department. I'm not sure what the criteria was for casting on "Pretty Wicked", but it's reality tv. So I'm watchin' it.

"Pretty Wicked" took the time slot that was previously taken by a show that we LOVED called "The Bad Girls Club". If you've never seen this show, it's about a gaggle of mean girls who live together in a mansion, fight like tigers and then go out and get their "freak on" with random men. They also cannot get a slurpee at Stop and Go without getting into a hair pulling, shoe throwing fight. The "Pretty Wicked" girls fight, but not like "The Bad Girls Club". Those beyotches are ruthless, they don't walk away without a handful of hair extensions. All the girls in both shows are whores though. Make noooo mistake. Those chicks are slut-tay.

*Bridezillas? YES

*The Anna Nicole show? Oh hell yes

*True Housewives of Orange County? Never miss an episode. I don't like those New York chicks or Atlanta. But they're headed to Jersey, so that's a keeper.

*Engaged and Underage? Are you kidding me? Teenagers who think they are ready for marriage? What's not to like?

*Jon and Kate plus 8? Where else can I learn how NOT to treat my husband, and how NOT to get my hair done?

*My Big Redneck Wedding? I actually got confused once watching this because I thought that the kids had put a tape of one of our family weddings in there. It wasn't until the commercial came on that I realized it was a TV show.

*My Super Sweet Sixteen? Brats with money? Nothing gives you that warm fuzzy feeling like seeing a 16 yr old cuss her mother out for not buying her a BMW instead of a Range Rover.

*Sunset tan? Oh come on, who doesn't watch Sunset Tan? Is Nick gay? Does he really think that Anya is pretty? What about Dr. 90210? Does Dr. Rey really not see how ridiculous he looks? Really?

But my all time favorite reality tv show, the reason I don't hibernate in the summer to avoid the heat? Big Brother baby. It comes on three times a week, it's on for 4 hours every night, and it's AWESOME. The fighting, the yelling, it cannot be matched. I have to wait until after the 4th of July to see it. So until then I have plenty to do. There's always somebody throwing shoes, pulling hair, cussing their mom, or pretending they didn't do what it looked like they were doing under the covers on night vision.

Happy Mothers Day

2009-05-10T10:43:00.000-07:00

I woke up this morning to handmade cards and a new stainless steel mixing bowl and rubber spatulas, I also got a new whisk. This is exactly what I wanted. I've been a mother for 5 years now, and I think that for the most part I'm doing a pretty good job. But there is a reason for this, I had a really good teacher.

I was fortunate enough to have grown up with an amazing mother. I adore her, she is sweet, kind, loving and beautiful. When she was in high school, she was the sweet girl that everyone loved and admired. The goody goody (nerd). She met my dad when they were just kids, and she married him at 17. No doubt she did it so he would just stop nagging he about it. She survived dad's tour in Guam. Her first time off the dirt roads of Oklahoma, on the plane she drank her finger bowl. Hillbilly fo sho. She endured a ridiculously long pregnancy with me. I was due Jan 1 and came along on Feb 23rd, allegedly with long hair and fingernails. What can I say? It was warm in there. And she knew she was pregnant in April so there is no mistake on the dates. She was a cops wife, and all the fear that comes with that. She got us moved from place to place while dad climbed the corporate ladder. We survived the bust in the
80's! We were always together, and often the 4 of us were all we had. And we were ok with that because she was there, so wherever we lived, she made it home.

When she turned 40 she found out she was pregnant. I was 19, and ok with it even if I did find it a little bit gross. My sister was 15 and not okay with it at all. Mom looked at this as her second chance. As if she never felt she did good enough the first time. How she can think that is beyond me, she's a nerd. She worked while we were growing up, but all I remember is being with her. All of my memories are of her spending all her free time with us, being there when we needed her. If I didn't know better, I would say that she was a full time stay at home mom. Her time with us was quality time. And she made those times that we weren't with her few and far between.

My dad got sick in the mid 90's. For years we didn't know what was wrong, and at times it was frustrating and heartbreaking, but she manned up and did what she swore she would do the day she married him. He's better now, but there are still days that are tough. Most of it is crazy old man stuff, but sometimes it's a bit overwhelming. She once told me that I was like one of those blow up clowns that you punch down and they just keep popping back up. I could say the same thing about her.

She is now a grandma. And she's 100% grandma, the kids adore her. She is warm and soft and cuddly and will do whatever mom and dad won't do. She still smells like she just stepped out of a shower all the time. She is still beautiful, and she still makes us feel like we are the most important things in her life. She keeps going, when some would just lay down and cover their heads and give up. She's funny, ditzy, and cute as a button. Recently she has taken on a sort of "badass" persona. This is a bit bothersome to my sisters and father, I like it. Until she turned it on me, then I had to reel her in. But that's ok, she's reeled me in lots of times. I hope that in 25 years I'm as good a mom and wife as she is. I'm proud of her, and I love her. And I love her lemon pie and pumpkin bread.

Happy Muddah's Day Ma!

The Cutest Thing Ever

2009-05-09T20:21:00.000-07:00

Is there anything cuter than a puppy? No. And nothing is cuter than a baby chihuahua. This is my sisters baby, his name is Zucko.

He is twice as big in that pictures as he was a week earlier when she got him. To put things into perspective, here he is with Taco, who weighs all of 6lbs. He was trying to run with the big dogs, but he just couldn't.

He is so tiny, he fits into a tee ball mitt!

Zucko is the cutest, sweetest thing I have held since my babies were tiny. AND, he doesn't spit up, which quite frankly my children were apt to do at any given time. I held him and he chewed on my ear, and sniffed around my face. He has skunky puppy breath, which is disgusting when it's a skunk, but so precious when it's a puppy.

Zucko was named by my nephew Bradley. He's running neck and neck with Zucko in the cutest thing ever department, don't you think? Have you ever seen eyes so blue in your life?

Look at that sweet face! Bradley was nearly 10lbs when he was born, and yet he has always seemed so vulnerable to me. It has to be the baby face. And when he gives you little baby kisses, they smell like sugar cookies. Even if he is sweaty and dirty, which he often is, he still smells like a sugar cookie. If you ask Bradley for a hug, he will tease you and turn his back to you, glance at you sideways and then give in right when you are about to give up. And when he hugs you, yeah you guessed it, you smell sugar cookies. I love sugar cookies.

Busy Busy Busy

2009-05-09T14:19:00.000-07:00

This is always a crazy time of year for me. First of all, I have finals. Those alone are butt kickers. Then the end of the school year brings class trips, PTO events, awards assembly and kindergarten graduation (don't get me started or I'll cry a river). I am also managing both Jack and Sydney's tee-ball teams, and coaching Syds. Sydney also has her tumbling recital at the end of the month. So that means that I am doing something every night of the week. And I love every stinking minute of it. I wouldn't give up a thing.

Yesterday was PTO fun day. I spent the day outside manning giant inflatables and sweating like a large farm animal. Jack loves giant inflatables. Sydney took this picture of him.

Then later that day Sydney had ball practice, so I was out there all sweaty and unathletic. Actually, to my credit, I can catch a tee ball pretty well. Then again a 4 yr old threw it so take that as you will. I went to bed last night sun-kissed and exhausted. BUT, my makeup totally held up all day. Bravo Bare Minerals! When I got home late last night, Bob told me that I looked pretty. He says that when he knows he is suppose to, but this was pretty random so I knew he meant it.

My kids are so athletic. I am so not, so they must get it from their dad. He has amazing athletic ability, and he makes everything look so effortless. I am not shocked by Jack's natural ability, because I've watched him for years. What I did not expect is for my precious little girl to knock the freaking ball out of the park! She's a powerhouse! Here's Aunt Desi showing her how to hit the ball.

And that's all she needed!

And she doesn't mess around either, she doesn't ever seem to get tired, and she loves being active. Thank God. Because I'm a lazy pud. I'm going to brag, she's the kid in gymnastics that the coach has the other kids watch to see how to do things the right way. She's very disciplined. At sports, not in life. Look at her, telling Lily to catch the ball!

So if we can survive until school is out, I think I'll be able to slow down. Until then I'm all in.

My Poor Children

2009-04-29T14:06:00.000-07:00

Apparently my kids are very underprivileged. I believe that Jack is getting sick, because he's acting like a crazy boy and that's his tendency right before he gets a cold or a virus.

Last night he spouted off outside to his dad. He came in and told me that he accidentally said something mean to dad. I told him that he needed to stop being so mean and bratty. Then I told him that since the last couple of days he's been acting like that, he wasn't playing any games last night. On school nights, he's allowed to play this computer game for one hour. And if you want to really get to him, threaten him with that because he lives for that hour.

So after I told him that he was essentially grounded, he threw himself on the floor and kicked his arms and legs. Literally threw himself on the floor and had a fit that a two year old would envy. I just stood there staring at him, and he looked at me. I asked him if he was really doing that? He then told me that he never gets anything he wants. No vacations, no games, no t-ball, no bike riding, and some other things that I had no idea he was interested in. I mean, the kid lives in a mini Disneyworld and he's complaining because he never gets to do anything.

Today if I look at him crooked he bursts into tears and yells "MOM". He has told his sister he hates her, he has kicked the dog, and he has commented that he is indeed leaving this place and going far away. Those are his words "I'm getting out of here and I'm going far away, I've had it". I think that this is because I told him to stop pushing his sister. Who, by the way, THRIVES on this behavior. She totally knows what buttons to push to make him mad.

Right now they are on the couch, and have drawn an imaginary line that must not be crossed.

Just Call Me Coach

2009-04-27T19:30:00.000-07:00

Tonight we had the coaches meeting for T-ball. We got the call that the meeting was tonight at 7pm at 1pm this afternoon. Niiice. Fortunately people came out in droves and volunteered to coach, so my team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. Bob's team has 3 coaches and 13 kids. For some reason I thought that I could handle the administrative side of two T-ball teams and let the other coaches do all that sweaty physical stuff. I'm an idiot. I'm already overwhelmed, with the calling of the parents, and the making of the rosters, and the setting up of the call lists and snack lists and figuring out the uniform situation. At least two of each teams phone numbers are wrong, and two of the kids on my team have names that I cannot even begin to pronounce. I named my kids Jack and Sydney for a reason. You can't screw that up. I would simply feel horrible if I mispronounced a childs name, I hate it.

But...I can do this. I'm a wiz at this stuff. I have the knowledge. But I totally lack the motivation. That's always been my biggest obstacle. Motivation.

I'm coaching the Cubs. My husband despises the Cubs. We're a White Sox house over here. He's coaching the Braves, I have no feeling either way on that.

When we lived in Chicago, one of Bob's dudes sent us to a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. It was fun, they sent a limo, and we went to dinner downtown, all that jazz. Really the limo was more of an embarrassment than anything. We pulled up to the front of the stadium, and everyone watched. Then we waddle our nobodies out, only to disappoint the crowd of people waiting to see who was inside. I have never felt so completely insignificant in my life. You don't know low until you have a hundred people look at you like that. We had fun though, I can say I've been there. I was going to get my niece a Cubs onesie, but I wasn't sure if she was a boy or a girl at the time, and Bob wasn't about to let me purchase Cubs gear. I did manage to get a cool bucket hat, which I might just wear this season.

So away we go...

Why I Changed My Blog Name

2009-04-25T20:05:00.001-07:00

I never really liked Living With Mel. It was lame and generic and it was all I could come up with on the fly. I was having an off day. Besides, I don't want to just focus on my life, I want to share my favorite things. For example, if you look in the header up there, you will see that I have quoted Dwight Schrute. I used this quote because 1)I think that Dwight is hilarious and 2)I just like any quotes that reference bears. Bears, Beets, etc. Fact. Bears eat beets. If something strikes me as funny, I'm going to share it. I love funny.

I decided on confessions of a quasi pseudo soccer mom because that's what I am. I'm almost a fake soccer mom. I'm really not as together as a soccer mom, but I still do all the things that soccer moms do. People think I've got all my stuff together. In reality, I'm a big old mess. I'm admittedly lazy, and I love to sleep. But when I go to the school or the tee ball field, or to gymnastics, or to PTA events, I turn it on. I take extra kids all the time. I always have a snack available. And I volunteer to make cupcakes or homemade granola bars for snack days. But when I'm home alone, I'm wearing paint stained clothes that hang off of me and I lay on the couch cruising the internet. If I don't have to take a kid to school, or keep another one, I could sleep until 1pm daily. And still be in bed by 10pm. I call my dogs filthy names when they won't stop barking at cars passing by the house. And I am a moody little cuss.

So to summarize, I could be considered a fake soccer mom because the time that I'm not doing soccer mom stuff, I'm laying around the house ordering my kids to bring me the phone. But I'm walking the walk, so I'm not quite fake. Pseudo. Just almost. Quasi.

When Kids Grab Cameras

2009-04-25T18:53:00.000-07:00

My kids love to take picture with my camera. I have no problem with it, they know to be careful and sometimes they get some good shots. However, I downloaded my latest batch yesterday and I found some disturbing shots. I'm not sure when these pictures were taken, or where I was when they were taken. What I do know is that I had some movie moments while looking at them.

"Ghost" Is she running from a ghost? Is this one of those orbs or something? And what
are her intentions when she gets to her target? Is she the good guy, or the bad guy?

While I love his little hillbilly gap, this is a little "Deliverance", don't you think?

Did you ever see "Dog Day Afternoon". Just call Jack, Pacino, for the purposes of this blog entry. He's holding Taco hostage and forcing him to watch "Beverly Hills Chihuahua for the 100th time.

Taco looks away when Chloe gets thrown into the cage with that big dog.

And here's what happens when you look away. (Taco is fine, btw. He's not being held down...this time)

We cannot leave out the Oscar winners. I give you, "My Left Foot". (I know that's her right foot, but My Right Foot wasn't a movie, and this was close enough. I needed to add some class to the mix.)

And it what is quite possibly the scariest freaking scene from a movie being reinacted. I give you..."The Ring".

Remember when that little girl came crawling out of that well?

Remember when she came towards the TV?

Remember when she came OUT of the TV?

Remember when the guy tried to get away from her?

But in the end, she got him?

Well, all those crushed up potato chips that you see on my floor scare me more than that movie. And they both know that. They know that crushed potato chips on my floor eat at my soul. And I have been looking all over the house for those two flip flops. I guess they made their way under the couch.

AND SCENE...

I Did It Again

2009-04-22T17:51:00.000-07:00

Today I ran into Penney's to take back a shirt. While there, I went to check out the final clearance racks and I found about 3 outfits for $24. I was so excited! I noticed people looking at me, and when I went to check out the cashier asked if I was ok. I told her I was and then I said, I'm sure too loudly, "I loooooove the final clearance rack". Then she said "oh me too" but sort of like you would tell a kid that you like ice cream too. I was so wrapped up in my bargains that I just kept smiling and being chirpy.

I got out to my car, and looked in the mirror, and I realized why I was getting strange reactions. When I left the house, I had my hair up in a big clip. I took it down as I was driving and then just stuck it on the side of my head in my hair. Very out of place. I forgot I did that and walked around the store for 30 minutes looking like a drunken pillhead.

This is not the first time, or the worst time this has happened to me. Once, when Bob and I lived up in Michigan, I went for a massage. I had been wearing black hose and when I got dressed after the massage I threw them in the pocket of my coat. While I was getting my massage, I threw my hair in a pony tail. I left the spa very relaxed and laid back. I ran into a store to grab a CD, once again, giddy from an hour long massage, and people looked at me. I imagined I had a glow about me. When we lived in Michigan people always looked at me, or so I thought. I had just moved from Texas, I had a touch of an accent, and I guess I thought they saw that special somethin' about me that was different from them. So the stares didn't really make me think anything was up.

I got home, and when I walked in, Bob double glanced me, and with a very strange look, asked me if I was ok. I wasn't sure what he meant, and I asked him why. He told me to go look in the mirror. When I saw myself, I was mortified. There I was, with my ponytail kicked to the side of my head and falling down, raccoon eyes from mascara being smeared, black panty hose hanging out of the pocket of my long black overcoat that was buttoned up just off by one button. I looked like I had either been mugged, or again, drunk.

Aside from forgetting that I look like a deranged drunkard, I also have a habit of saying hello to people who look like people I know. I once waved to a guy and his pregnant wife across a store, telling them I would see them at the baby shower. It was after I walked away that I realized that while he looked like a guy I knew, that was not his wife, therefore I had just told total strangers that I had intentions to crash their baby shower. I had an entire conversation with a man at a doctors office, only to end the conversation with "you're not William are you?" He politely answered "no ma'am". I excused myself and tried to walk away with an ounce of dignity. I probably tripped over a rug on the way out, I've blocked most of that incident out. I once yelled out "Nana" to an elderly lady with short gray hair. When she didn't answer, I said to myself "she can't hear a thing". Once I got up closer I realized it was a man. I'm kidding on that last part, just another dig at Nana's lesbian haircut.

I do this all the time. It's getting bad. If my mother in law did this, I would have her committed. Yet people that I know? I can look them right in the eye and not even realize that I know them. My GG has called me and told me that I flat out ignored a great aunt at Walmart once. I had no idea I ever saw her. But to be honest, I've dived into the frozen food section more than once to avoid talking to aforementioned great aunt, so my whole "I didn't see her" line didn't go over so well.

I either need to start paying better attention, or just start wearing matching pantsuits and white canvas keds, and a sweater in the middle of July. You know, just in case the car gets too cold. And if I do that, I'll have to carry tissues in my purse, and let mints get all fuzzy in the side pockets. I went from not leaving my car without checking my lipstick to wearing two different colored flip flops, just that fast.

Spotlight on...Andy

2009-04-20T20:14:00.000-07:00

A certain someone has asked that I do a blog entry, specifically devoted to her. So, in order to get her to shut up about it, I give you...Andy

Who is Andy? Andy is my doppelganger. The ying to my yang. She is the only person who can do to me, what I do to everyone else. She and I are a dangerous pair, and our minds work in mysterious ways. We go there. To places that others dare not go. Here we are after we just went there...I look hideous in this picture, but if you saw the one that was taken before this one, you would think that right there is a picture of a movie star. I'm not showing that picture btw.

She's an eater. She isn't fat at all, which really annoys me because she eats like a 17 year old boy. Andy will bring you a box of chocolates if you are in the hospital. It will be empty when it gets to you but I guess it's the thought that counts. She can't help it. The other day we stopped at Krispy Kreme to get a donut. I thought for sure we would get a dozen, give all the kids one and then take our boys one home. But noooooo. She actually said to me "get your own dozen because I'm not sharin'". In the 30 minutes it took us to get home, I saw her devour 3 donuts without taking a breath. Here she is showing us how much she loves making cake balls. She is also showing us her IQ.

Andy works for UPS. She gets to boss men around. She also works like a farmhand which might explain why she is able to eat like one and not gain weight. She is very good at her job, very organized. She is really on top of things at work. At home, not so much. I'm sorry but it's true. It's almost weird how she can go from one extreme to the other.

Andy is Sam-Sam's mom. She is also Keegans mom and Trevors pain in the a...I mean wife. She and I both agree that we took two really good men in Bob and Trevor and ruined their lives. As well as their credit. But they both have good credit now. Their lives are still destroyed, but baby steps. Baby steps.

Andy doesn't cry. She doesn't hug. By all outwards appearances she is a soul-less blob of non-emotional seaweed. If you tell her that your dog died, she'll tell you that dogs die and you need to get over it. But I know things. I'm not outing her as having emotions, but I've seen things. She has an obession with bathrooms and the goings on of bathrooms. And while describing Andy requires a mention of bathrooms, that's as far as I'm going with that. Because I do not share the same obession. I wish that she would understand that and stop trying to pull me into that world. I don't wanna go there.

She sleeps the minute she gets into the passengers seat of a vehicle. I have seen her and Trevor driving down the street, Trevor in the drivers seat, and Andy over in the passengers seat with her head thrown back, mouth wide open, drool all over her face. I suspect that people who didn't know her would think he was rushing her to the hospital because she's had some sort of stroke or something. But she's just sleepin'. She, like my Bob, looks like bigbird when she sleeps. She also has the ability to fall asleep in the middle of a conversation like Bob does. I'm used to it at this point. My sister does it too.

Andy and I do things that make people wonder what we're up to. For example, we will
run for absolutely no reason. We'll be sitting on the couch, and one of us will say "you wanna go run" and the other one says "hell yeah" and we go outside at Nana's and just run. No one knows why we do this, and neither do we. But we run and we laugh until we cry. We also have the ability to look at each other and laugh, thus sending chills down the backs of the rest of our family. They all ask why? what? who? But there is no why, what or who. We're just laughing. The more we laugh, the more freaked out people get, which makes us laugh more.

We have fun, more fun that we should have. We laugh at things that other people would cry about. And when one of us is mad, the other one gets mad too. Or makes fun of the other for getting so mad about something stupid. Alright, usually she makes fun of me for getting mad at something stupid. We make fun of each other about things that other people would pity us for. It's how we get through the tough times. We're cousins, but we're also friends. Mostly because being friends with each other is easier than being friends with other people. We're both backer outers. For example, I might be all about going to lunch next Wed with Betty Sue. But when Wed rolls around, the chances of me still wanting to go to lunch are not good. If I make plans with Andy and I back out, there is a very good chance that she won't want to go either. And if she does, I don't care. Because that's how we roll.

We love our family. They are tons of fun to make fun of. We have a great time with our Nana. We like to go places with her, and make fun of her. Especially when she and my mom got matching lesbian haircuts. We told her that her hair looked great for an 80 year old lesbian. She just laughed at us. We also like to make fun of our cousin Wally. How can you have a cousin named "Wally" and not make fun of him? We call him a magnificent bastahd. We call him at random times asking him "what are you doing you magnificent bastahd?" For some reason everytime we call him, he asks us if we're drunk. We aren't. We're usually hopped up on sugar, but never drunk.

Andy's mom died about 4 years ago. It sucked. But every now and then, when we pull one of our pranks, we sort of feel like she's there with us, pulling the rope on the bucket of water over the door. We think that she would enjoy our antics. She was sort of like us in that she thoroughly enjoyed those little moments when someone slips on the ice.

So now I've done a spotlight on Andy. And now maybe she'll just shut up about it and let me have my normal life back.

Girls Night Out

2009-04-18T19:04:00.000-07:00

Bob and Jack went with Jack's friend and his dad to the Monster Truck Show tonight. Which is really funny if you know Bob, because he is so not a Monster Truck Show guy. Sydney and I went with Andy and her daughter Keegan to see the Hannah Montana movie. Yes, we did. And to be perfectly honest with you, it was an awesome movie. At one point, I was tempted to stand up and urge Miley to be Hannah again. I would keep her secret! Okay, mostly I was tempted to do this because it would have been incredibly funny. How freaking awesome would that be? Out of nowhere the chick in the 3rd row stands up clapping and chanting "Hannah, Hannah!" It would have made Andy wet herself.

It was a theater full of moms and daughters, and while my daughter does indeed love Hannah, I took the opportunity to see the movie without shame. But...there was a lady next to me with an 18 month old, and I wanted to tell her that first of all, she's not fooling anyone and second of all, it's ok. It's ok to like Hannah. Andy and I immediately went and bought the soundtrack to the movie. We aren't ashamed.

Afterwards we took the girls to dinner, and laughed with them. Sydney and I came home and listened to our new CD and danced. She has a Hannah Montana microphone and she's got the moves. It was a great girls night out. No Pina Colada, but good company anyway.

Easter

2009-04-14T17:15:00.000-07:00

We had a great Easter! It was cold and rainy, but we still had a great time.
The first thing we did was take our annual front porch picture...

When I was a kid, we all stood on that same front porch and had our picture taken, rain or shine. Our parents did as well. We make a sign showing the year, every year, but depending on one of those kids to actually hold it up is usually a big waste of time. I chose that picture out of the 10 I have, because I think that Trixie the dog looks quite fetching. What you do not see in that picture, is what the kids are seeing. No less than 6 insane adults telling them all to look at them and smile. A lot of "get the dog out of the way" and "put your basket down" and "watch the baby" By the time pictures are done, the kids are ready to go home and go to bed, while the adults all sit around and tend to our bruises.

Here are my angels in their Easter outfits...

After picture time, we had dinner. Here is a post dinner shot of my sister, the nurse. My Nana, my mother in law and my mother. That was one tough crowd. Seriously.

After dinner, it was egg hunt time. We sequestered the kids in the den with some Spongebob and we took to hiding eggs. But then it started to rain, and it was really cold. So I threw Bob my bag and took off into the house. I'm no fool. Bob and my uncle were though. And they weathered the rain and hid some eggs. Although to tell you the truth, dumping them all in the driveway isn't really providing the kids with much of a challenge, but whatever. It rained for a good 20 minutes before we decided to just go for it. So we lined them up.

And off they went!

Sam-Sam didn't make it to the egg hunt. He was all worn out.

Afterwards, it was time to inspect the loot.

Then more pictures with Nana. Again, trying to get all of them to sit still and let us take a picture is like herding chickens into a photo shoot. It just isn't possible. In this case, the dog was behind them growling and causing all of them to scream and run.

We took more pictures, but I think that this picture pretty much speaks of my people.

Would you believe that he's the grumpiest person in our family? At least someone got use of Sydney's Easter hat.

Preparing for Easter

2009-04-13T19:14:00.001-07:00

I'll get into Easter day later, we had a great day. But before I get into that, Easter hit the ground running on Friday when Jack and his class went to the park for a huge egg hunt. Here they are getting ready to go...

He didn't randomly pick eggs up, he scouted for them. He was so excited when he realized he had gotten 3 Diego eggs...

He took a split second to take a picture with me. Ignore my horrid appearance, I was in a rush that day to get to the park and my hair wasn't playing well with others...

On Saturday we did the whole egg coloring thing...

And they turned out great!

They put their eggs in the basket for the Easter bunny, and he came!

Jack woke us up at 5am. We made him let everyone sleep until about 7am when he saw a flicker of light through the curtains and decided that enough was enough.

Later on we went to Nana's for the traditional Easter dinner and egg hunt. We also got the annual front porch picture, all of which I will post on soon. But here's a teaser...

My Girl's First Haircut

2009-04-12T17:10:00.001-07:00

My girl has the most beautiful red hair you have ever seen.

She was born with it, came into this world with a fuzzy red head. Bob and I were both totally confused. As she got older, and her hair grew, it started to highlight and she has copper, blond, red, and strawberry blond color streaks in it. I actually have people ask me if I had her hair highlighted. She's 4 now, and this has been going on since her hair grew past her shoulders.

I was always hesitant to cut it because 1) I wanted it to get long and 2) cutting Sydney's hair would be like trying to cut a lions mane. It's not gonna happen and someone is gonna get hurt. But her hair got out of control. She is very tender headed (yet stubborn as a mule, go figure) and it got to a point for a bit where I would have to throw it up in a bun tangles and all. Here is an example of how her hair would often look. And a gratuitous picture of Sam-Sam.

It was shortly after this day that I took her to have her hair cut for the first time. She really didn't want to go because she was afraid, but her big brother had his cut too so she decided it might not be so bad. You can see Nana and Sam-Sam in the background!

Afterwards, I was a little concerned because it was so sharp! It didn't look soft like it always had. But as it dried, it started to look really cute. We went to the mall and Andy took some really good pictures of the kids.

Now that it's been about a month since she had a haircut, her hair has softened and looks beautiful. Her Aunt M misses the wild and crazy Sydney hair, but I think she looks great with the shorter hair.

Scholar of the Month

2009-04-12T16:53:00.000-07:00

My Jack was awarded scholar of the month for March. He got a medal and a certificate at a school assembly last Friday. Check out that toothless grin!

Here he is with his proud sister.

And his good job cake that we had with all of his cousins at Nana's house that night.

He was pretty proud of himself, and we were even more so! His Gramma R gave him a nice glow in the dark dinosaur puzzle. He and his cousin started to put it together with Nana.

Nana cannot stay away from a jigsaw puzzle. She tends to throw herself into them. So much so that we are not able to get her puzzles as a gift. She gets a little nutso. Apparently jigsaw puzzles and elderly grandmothers do not a sane situation make.

So congratulations to our Jack! We're so proud!

Pre-K Registration

2009-04-07T15:20:00.000-07:00

I survived registering Sydney for pre-k next year. After surviving that, I have no question that I could tackly Mount Everest. Or even a quick jaunt around the block. I'm something of a pud.

Just a little background on the school. There are 40 spots in the pre-k program. It's part of the same school that Jack goes to, and the school is pre-k thru 8th grade. My kids are 3rd generation to go there. I went there from K-8 minus
2nd grade. The wait list for an open spot is rumored to be quite impressive and if you are out of district you will never see the inside of that classroom, unless you know someone or are a teacher at the school. Even then, you're sworn to secrecy. I'm keeping mum on my childrens ability to be in the program. Some of this is embellished, but I refuse to say which part.

Registration started at 4pm. I got to the school at 2pm. There was already a line of people seated all the way down the hall. We sat there, like crazed shoppers on Black Friday waiting for Target to open their doors at 4am so we can get $5 Baby Alives. I've never done that, and I wouldn't, but I bet that's what it was like. I seriously feared a stampede. Finally at 4pm the principal came out and announced how it would work. They have a system down, it was impressive. I, being me, had all my stuff out and ready to be copied. Of course there was some dipwad that was 4 in front of me that not only had nothing ready, she wasn't even sure she was in district. So we all stood there for 15 minutes before they finally figured out that until she could prove her district, she would go on the wait list.

I spent that time leaned up against the wall, chewing on my straw from my Sonic cup, thinking about how when I got out to the parking lot I was gonna kick her butt so hard my foot hurt just thinking about it. I don't have much tolerance for people who go to these things unprepared. It annoys me. You've had 4 years to plan for this, get it together monkeygirl.

But we got in! I knew all the teachers and several parents from activities that I'm involved in and older kids in the school. We were all shocked at how every year the competition for a spot gets tougher. I was also pleased to see a lot of the kids in Syd's class, have siblings in Jack's class. Pretty cool. I remember being the new mom, and not having anyone to talk to, feeling left out. I don't handle that well. It was nice to have the teachers and principal and staff already know my girl by name. It makes it less nerve wracking to send her off with them. Plus, between volunteering, and substituting, I imagine I'll be there most days.

Or, I might sleep in all day and eat bon bons and drink wine.

Va-ca-sheyon

2009-03-23T14:44:00.000-07:00

We survived our week in Branson. We had too much fun, and I mean it when I say we had too much fun, everything costs a soul in Branson. But, what are you gonna do?

On Sunday, we were already packed up and ready to roll. Jack woke up super early, and as usual Sydney slept in a little bit. We only had a 5 hour drive, so we weren't in a hurry. Once we got everything all loaded up, the kids were ready to go! You will see that the kids each have a copy of the map.

We took a nice drive down the Turner Turnpike, which despite common belief is not named after my family. I think we all know any turnpike named after my people would be something like the RedneckInsane Turnpike. But whatever. We had just got on the turnpike when Jack asked us if we were there yet. It wasn't the last time I assure you. We asked if they needed to stop for a bathroom break, and Jack told us that he didn't need to go to the bathroom, and he wasn't hungry, he wanted to get to the "helltell" and get in the pool.

Finally, we got to our exit in Branson. I'm not sure why I took this picture, it is of the main strip, but quite frankly it isn't any where near as busy as the main strip. But it's proof we were there, so...

We got to the Grand Oaks, and Bob and the kids hit the pool. I hit the comfy hotel bed. After I stripped everything off of the beds and put them in the little closet area. I watch Dateline, I know what goes on in those places. After they came back, the kids wanted to sort of sit back and take in our temporary abode. I told you I stripped the beds!

Then we decided to hit the Dinosaur mini golf course. It was fabulous. Here are Jack and Syd standing inside the brontosaurus ribs like on the Flintstones. Or at least that was what I thought.

We went back to the hotel, exhausted. It was about then that Sydney decided that she wanted to go home. I told her not to be silly, that we were going to have fun. But in the dark, I secretly wanted to be in my own bed too.

On Monday morning we went to the Titanic Museum. Like most things that we went to, we weren't allowed to take any interior pics, but the Titanic Museum was my second favorite thing we did on our trip. It was truly amazing. The ship is built to 50% the size of the real ship, and it had actual pieces brought up from the wreckage as well as a lot of personal stories from survivors. I could have spent the day there. I was the only one. Isn't it awesome?

We then went to the dinosaur museum, which wasn't at all what we expected. Jack and Sydney flipped their lids. We made a quick retreat and hit the GO KARTS! Obviously since we were on the Go Karts we couldn't take a picture, but holy monkey was it fun. Bob and I have decided to invest in our own Go Karts and buy a house out in the country. If I could, I would drive a Go Kart everywhere. We rode the Big Woody and I cannot even begin to describe how freaking fun it was. Sydney and I rode together and Bob and Jack rode together. Then Bob and Jack rode the bumper boats. I didn't because Sydney didn't want to, and I wasn't getting wet. Jack sprayed some lady standing outside of the gates. I was embarrassed but laughing at the same time.

While they rode the boats. Sydney and I shared a cold drink and kicked butt at Skeeball.

That night we went to see Imax "Under the Sea". Interesting, but not mind blowing. I was a little afraid a shark was going to eat a baby sea lion but fortunately they passed on that.

On Wednesday we went to the Hollywood Wax Museum! I love the wax museum!

Jack was thrilled to see Indiana Jones

Bob took down the terminator

And NERD ALERT, Bob flipped his cookies over the Star Trek display. And he took my kids with him. There is no hope.

Then we went and looked at some cabins down by the lake. And that night we went to see the Barber-Hamner Magic show. It was my favorite thing. There was a magic show, and a ventriloquist/comedian. Very family friendly, very exciting and very mysterious! Of course we weren't allowed to take pics of the performance. But here is a shot of J and S in the entry to the theater.

I was more than ready to get home. I enjoyed the trip, and we had a really good time, made good memories. But being away sort of made us realize how much we take our every day lives for granted. We have a great life! Everything we do is fun, we are surrounded by family and friends and every weekend is a vacation. We're thinking about Disney World next year. I'm thinking cruise. Then again a trip to Yellowstone or Sequoia state park would be nice also.

Priorities

2009-03-19T21:32:00.000-07:00

My kids are making me crazy. They are running around, making messes and being little maniacs. My husband makes me so mad when he does those little things he does that drive me up the wall. I'm whiney because I'm tired and all I want to do is lay in bed and sleep. I need a vacation to recover from my vacation.

So when I whine about these stupid things, and I think about how much I wish some things were different, something happens that slaps me upside the head and puts me in my place. Our friend Trevor lost his best friend, Tony, this morning in a car accident. He was 40 yrs old, he has a 2 yr old little boy that he was over the moon about. He had a lifetime ahead of him. People loved him, he was one of those guys who made you feel like you were worthy of listening to, worthy of his time, regardless of how long he knew you. I met him several times, I saw him around town, and in the 10 years since I first met him, I never once saw him without a smile on his face. He made people smile. When I think of Tony, I laugh. He had an infectious laugh. Simply put, he was just a really good guy.

This morning, he died. He died on the side of the road, alone. Much too soon. The world is a little less fun without him in it. He and Trevor were like brothers, and while I did not know Tony as well as others did, I mourn for my friends loss. I mourn for Tony's son who will never know exactly how much his father loved him. How he never knew how much he could love anyone until that little boy came along. I mourn for a mother who lost her only child, and I wonder how a person survives that. I thank God that my husband is healthy and safe here in our home. I thank God that my babies are healthy and safe and that they know how much we love them.

So tonight, while his mother holds onto whatever she can, I will hold onto my children a little bit tighter, I will tell my husband how much I love him more, and I will thank God that they are here for me to do so. When the house gets dirty, I'll clean it up. When the kids are bouncing off the walls, I will be grateful that I am here to watch them do it. When Bob snores at night, I will be so thankful that I can hear those snores. Because those snores mean he's alive and he's right here with me.

Life is too short to let the little things get you down. I won't worry that we went over budget on our vacation. I won't worry if this stupid house sells. I don't care about anything but life and I will remember how short it can be.

All Our Bags Are Packed...

2009-03-14T18:53:00.000-07:00

We're ready to go...We're leaving in the morning to take a trip to Branson, Mo. Bob and I met in Branson, and Jack's middle name is Branson. See the connection? Galveston is still recovering and we don't have the time for a trip to Chi-town, so we're road tripping to Branson. We're planning to hit the Titanic museum (that's mine), the Wax museum (for old times sake, Bob and I made out in the Wizard of Oz corner just shy of 9 years ago), the Hollywood museum and anything else fun we can find. Silver Dollar City opens on Thu and Bob has a breakfast meeting that day so we can't stick around for that.

The kids are as excited as if it were Christmas Eve. They have packed everything they can fit into their little bags. Now I have to unpack all of it and put it all away, then repack it with their clothes. Then, when we get to the hotel, they'll open the bags and be all mad that I took their good stuff out. They have counted down to this, they have their little pocket calendars and they have checked off the days.

I'm excited. It's the kids first trip and our first in a very long time. The car is maintenanced, and the house is all ready to show while we're gone. The bonus of that is that when we come home, our house will be in perfect condition. I looooove that.

Wish us luck!

Showing the house

2009-03-12T17:45:00.000-07:00

The house has been listed for about 2 1/2 weeks now. Or is it 3 1/2? I can't remember. I do know that we had not had so much as a drive by slowly-er and I was getting frustrated. I did check the website daily and it was getting several hits. But like I said, most of them were from me. Whatever. I should have known that today would be the day that it would be shown. Want to know how I know that? It rained, and my house only seems to ever be shown when it's raining. Our stinking open house last year was on the rainiest day of the year. It's just ridiculous.

This morning, at 9:40am, as I'm clomping around the house looking like a crackwhore, the realtor that listed our house last time, called me. I was afraid to answer, because I've been dreading that moment that we see each other and she smacks me around and tells me how much I suck for not using her again. But she never showed the house when she listed it, and she pretty much sucked so there you go. Anyway, she calls me and tells me that she wants to show it at 10:30am. Less than an hour away. Fortunately we've been pretty on top of keeping things up around here, and I just needed to do a few things. But I was doing them with little Sam Sam and my Sydney following me around undoing them. I managed to get out the door by 10:27am. With all three of my wet dogs in tow. At 10:40am, she calls me and tells me that they weren't going to look at it. Bitch.

I KNOW that skank did that on purpose. I know she did. So I came in and got ready to take my GG to run some errands. Sydney didn't want to go, so Andy offered to stay at the house with her. Apparently, while I was out, someone pulled a "drop by". She claims to have left me a message but she didn't. And she didn't leave a card, which is sort of odd. No big deal, the house was ready to show, right? Yeah, well the dogs weren't ready for the house to show.

When a leaf falls on the ground, all my dogs go insane. My border collie will nearly bust through the window, my rat terrier will bark incessantly with a very high pitched shrill sound. And Taco will antagonize both of them and inevitably the two females will start to fight. And it's not the walking around stiff legged, growling fight. It's full on mauling and hair flying everywhere. I don't think there were any fights, but there was a lot of barking. She managed to get the dogs outside, and the two ladies came through and then left.

I had Andy take the dogs to my moms, because my GG wanted to shop. And I never turn down a shopping trip with my GG. She's got champagne taste on a champagne budget, if you know what I mean. So I left the house lit up like a Christmas tree, and everything perfect. But no one else came by. Why would they? I was prepared.

I did get a call in the middle of fighting some grouchy chick over a pair of Ecko maryjanes at Dillards. Another realtor is showing my house tomorrow. I'm hoping this is the beginning of something beautiful. I hope that while we are away next week on vacation, 200 people come through here. I don't even care if they look in my underwear drawer. I'm just ready for this to be over and done with. Wherever we decide to move to, I'm making sure that it's the house I will die in, because I don't ever want to have to sell a house again.

PS. GG and I got matching bitch red Liz Claiborne bags today. I also got some slammin' shoes for spring. Score one for the big girl.

Too busy to work?

2009-03-06T08:27:00.000-08:00

There is a pre-k teachers assistant position open next year at the school. It's for Sydney's class. I am considering applying for it. I feel like if Sydney is at school, then what will I do? But as my husband pointed out, there is plenty to do. Here is my to do list as of right now.

*I need to go and fax my ID to the place to get Syds birth certificate because I have to have in for pre-k enrollment.
^I need to go to the bank and make deposits. Thanks to my outstanding academic achievements the state of Oklahoma has rewarded me with free money! And I got some cashola for my birthday.
*I need to go to the grocery store so bad, we have nothing in the house and we're even out of toiletries, I can't find the list it took me an hour to make last night.
*I have a quiz due by noon tomorrow in personality theories, a class that is busting my balls big time, and I have midterms next week. If I don't pull at least a B out of my developmental psych midterm I can kiss my 4.0 goodbye.
*I need to send in my information for the honor society membership that I finally got my invitation to.
*I need to go and sign the kids up for soccer and t-ball and get a hold of this other dad to co-coach with Bob.
*I need to go and get my oil changed and my get new tires on my van.
*I need to take some things back to the mall and go to the book store.
*And I desperately need to go and get a pedicure before I scuff the floors with my nasty ass crusty heels. I also need a nail fill.
*I need to color my hair because it is seriously at this point full on gray.
*I was suppose to be doing PTO popcorn sales today. I missed the volunteer reading program this week, and they have called me to sub 3 times this week.
*I missed my GG's birthday so I need to go and get her a gift or some flowers and a card and go and see her.
&I also need to run and check in on Bob's uncle at the nursing home.
^I'm helping my sister, the nurse, remodel her house. I'm getting together lits of contractors and pricing for her to. She's clueless and she works wonky overnight hours. (I'm very excited about this project because it takes my mind off of the fact that my house hasn't been shown once since it went on the market almost 2 weeks ago)

Yet here I am, laying on the couch, watching Twister with Sydney and Samuel wishing I could snap my fingers and be showered and ready to go. My back still hurts, but it's better. I think that if I could get out and walk around it might loosen up a little bit. But they put me on bed rest until next Monday, I can't do that. I'll go nuts. And I refuse to take anymore of the prescription pain meds at this point because they are making me totally worthless. I am determined to cook again tonight because my kids are sick to death of cereal, spaghetti Oh's and frozen pizza.

I'm too busy to work! Who would take care of everyone?

Jack

2009-03-05T17:59:00.000-08:00

Jack will be six in late May. He is without a doubt the coolest kid I've ever known. I would say that if I wasn't his mother. Anyone who knows him will tell you that. He's quite the social butterfly, he's the big man on campus. Everywhere we go, we see people who know Jack. Older kids, younger kids, teachers, other parents. Everyone knows him and thinks he's a righteous dude. He's a nice kid too, he'll befriend the one kid that no one else likes, and bring them into the fold. My cousin works at his school, and she has mentioned more than once that the kid is a freaking rock star. Jack has a posse. There are 5 of them. There are 5 little girls that have each chosen one of the boys as HERS.

The other day, Jack was wrestling with his dad, and told him that he was going to punch him in the nuts. We asked him if he even knew what that meant, he then proceeded to grab himself and tell us "these are my nuts". He wasn't talking about the jar of pecans on the counter. We asked who told him that and he informed us that his buddy was complaining that another kid had punched him in the nuts. I asked him if they were laughing and he told me "no mom, it hurt!". So we then tried to explain that the term nuts, while funny, is not appropriate. Then we explained that he will find that most funny things are not appropriate. That doesn't stop me but I don't want him telling his teacher that I allow him to call his little men nuts.

Tonight, he was talking to my friend Andy about girls. He said to her "those girls smell like...like..." and she said "poop?" and he said "no, no...they smell like those powdered donuts. And they smell goooood". He said this with a far off look in his eyes. Two months ago, when I asked him if he had a girlfriend, he not only said no, he told me to never ask him that again. He complained that the girls are just annoying and they won't leave the boys alone. All of a sudden these little vixens smell like powdered donuts? I mean, I know how Jack feels about powdered donuts. He LOVES them.

I'm not ready for nuts and chicks man. I'm still having a hard time dealing with the fact that he not only wipes his own butt, he showers by himself and goes to bed when he's tired. When he reads to me, it makes me want to cry. Mostly because the days of spelling things out to keep them a secret are almost over, but also because it means that he's growing up. The older he gets, the older I get. The older he gets, the closer he gets to thinking I'm an annoying pain in his ass. By habit I ask him if he's ok without even thinking about it. He no longer wants me to ask him that. If I do ask him, he gives me his exasperated look and tells me "MOM, stop asking me that!". You know it's coming. You know that any day now he'll be telling his posse that his mother is a psycho hose beast who needs to cut the cord.

I'm beyond proud of him, he makes my heart explode. But I want him to just slow down. At the rate he's going, he'll be out the door and cruising the poo'** before I can say "are you ok?"

**slang for a local street in our little burb called Kickapoo that the kids have cruised since my parents were in high school

Selling a house sucks

2009-02-27T20:14:00.000-08:00

I hate the whole house selling process. I'm not as stressed this time around, I'm sort of going with the flow, but the being ready at all times to show it is kicking my butt. It went up on Monday, and so far, no one has come by to see it. I am sort of going on the website to see how many people have checked it out online by the little ticker at the bottom, but I can't remember how many times I've done it so I don't know if that number is actual people or just me checking.

I've been doing the whole routine daily, just in case they call. Last year when we tried to sell, I would go all psycho everytime the phone rang and rush around like a monkey on crack worrying that it didn't look perfect. So this time, I'm keeping it perfect full time. That's just not my style. The house being perfect is not a priority for me as a rule. I don't like a mess, but I'm not obsessive about things. Houses in our little neck of the woods are moving, they're getting snatched up like hotcakes. But me being that one in a million girl, I'll have the only house in town not moving. Even though we are giving the place away.

Tomorrow is Saturday. That's the day that Jack wakes up at his usual time and plays Wii until I wake up. Sydney is lazy like me, she'll sleep in. But you watch, some hotshot will call at 8am wanting to see this place at 9am. And there I'll be, sweeping up whatever hair my border collie lost overnight, loading up both kids and all three dogs, and waiting for them to come in for 5 minutes and decide that my house is a craphole and they would rather live in the street. And right when they pull up, Mr. Jenkins from next door will come out in his boxers to get his paper. He'll shoot them dirty looks, because he doesn't want us to move. Then the pitbulls from the next neighborhood will make their way over here and attack someone or something. Or when they open the door something will fall off. Or one of the kids will have let one right before we walk out, and the smell will knock them off their feet when they walk in. Or I will remember that I left my bra hanging on the doorknob. There are so many things that can make a showing go wrong.

Meanwhile I'll be in the car with the kids arguing over who got the biggest sausage biscuit. The dogs growling at each other over dropped crumbs of the aforementioned sausage biscuits. Last time I tried to sell the house, this happened to me. Well the car stuff, I never left my bra on a doorknob. The dogs went nuts and I had to stop the car and get out and pull them off of each other. It sucks!

I just want this to be over with. Even if I have to deal with all that crap, I hope that someone comes by this weekend. And I'm keeping track of how many times I have checked how many people have looked at the listing on line. It only takes one person to fall in love with the joint. Here's to hoping that person is in the mood to buy.

Hawt Dawgs

2009-02-25T06:48:00.000-08:00

Nearly 10 years ago, my friend Andy and I had an epiphany that the world, or at least our little town, needs a hot dog stand. We decided that we would be the ones to give the world the aforementioned hot dog stand, and we would name it "Hawt Dawgs". Then I moved away. Then we had kids. Then we got lazy. Two days ago, our dreams of Hawt Dawg was renewed. We really want to open a hot dog stand. We have decided to make a game plan, do some research and see if we can get it up and running by next spring's baseball season.

This desire to open Hawt Dawgs comes from both of us, for different reasons. Andy loves hot dogs. She believes that in heaven, there is a hot dog stand on every corner. It's her favorite food next to spaghetti. I have a love/hate relationships with hot dogs. I like them sometimes, but only the all beef ones and I prefer that they be cooked on a stick in a fire pit in my Nanas front yard. I am also hesitant to eat hot dogs because I try to eat well. Aside from my insatiable love of chocolate I try to avoid those sorts of things. I'm not always successful, but I shoot for it. I do enjoy a good Chicago dog.

Our biggest obstacle is our lack of motivation. Andy and I are very nearly the same person. We have struck fear in others with a simple smile and a shared giggle. No one knows exactly what we're up to, and they probably don't want to know. We have a history of great ideas, only to wake up the next morning deciding that the bed is warmer than the thought of actually putting our ideas into play. We're lazy. We're neck and neck in the lazy race. We lay around and argue over who is lazier. My sister, who is not at all lazy is quite annoyed by this. Because she will make plans with us, and there is a 50/50 chance that we're gonna back out. We drive her insane. Andy is a hard worker, she's a hot shot over at the local UPS. I am always busy doing something, PTO stuff, running errands for myself and other people. Taking the kids to their little activities. I'm not an unbusy person. But in spite of our ability to take care of our obligations, for the most part, we're lazy.

It is because of this laziness that our husbands are highly supportive of Hawt Dawgs. They don't think we'll ever get it done, so why even bother to do anything but say "hey honey, that's a great idea!" Like when we planned a joint family vacation for the past three years. Or when we told them we were going back to school. To be fair we are both still in school, there just isn't the same passion that there was back then. We are also looking at building new houses next door to each other. These are all things that they just nod their heads in agreement with.

But Hawt Dawgs will happen. And then everyone who doubts us can just eat our weiners!

It's My Birthday!

2009-02-23T19:38:00.000-08:00

Today is my birthday, I’m 39. I remember when 39 was a lifetime away. Now the bright lights of 40 are within my sight and I’m wondering where the last 20 years went. I’m ok with 39, I mean 40 is the new 30 now. I don’t really feel 39, but I look every minute of it courtesy of Jack and Sydney. I have so much gray hair at this point that it looks like I had gray highlights put in professionally. I also have to watch the caterpillar that wants to crawl across my upper lip when I’m not watching. I’ve reached that point, the one that requires me to tell the nice lady at the nail salon to go ahead and wax my upper lip and chin rather than doing my eyebrows. I have to prioritize. I can pluck my eyebrows. Have you ever pulled a little hair off of your upper lip? I’d rather have a monkey punch me right in the crotch. Repeatedly.

I had a good birthday. I always have good birthdays. The only one I can remember being bad was my 26th and I’d rather not get into the specifics of that one. When I was 10 I had 4 birthday parties. That was a very good year. My 21st birthday was a memorable one, it kicked off the summer of ruthlessness that I still look back on fondly to this day. OK sometimes with shame but the good kind. On my 30th birthday I met my Bob. Actually that was when I realized Bob was right in front of me, ripe for the pickin’. I’ll get into that story next month on our anniversary. Last year Bob threw me a surprise party! Unfortunately I was deathly ill with a horrible, either sinus infection or perhaps the flu. I don’t remember much of that birthday except that my doppelganger Andy made me a coconut cake and I couldn't taste it. That sucked.

Today I woke up to balloons everywhere. Jack and Sydney each got me a card and signed them. Jack was watching the Spongebob movie and so the card has all the characters from the movie, INCLUDING the Goofy Goober. He’s the little brown guy with the blue dancing cane.

Sydney gave me a princess birthday card, with a ton of balloons. She then proceeded to spill root beer on it. You will see that she also drew Spongebob on her card.

Bob made me a cake, and my parents came for dinner. My mother in law and Bob’s cousin from Chicago came by for dessert. It was a nice, quiet, birthday. The best kind.

Bob Went Shopping

2009-02-21T19:29:00.000-08:00

I'm sick, I have strep. Things have been so insane this week, and I can't even remember the last time I went grocery shopping. Today I gave Bob a list of things that I needed like soup, crackers, pudding, ice, etc. I told him to go to the store and get whatever he thinks he might like to eat the next couple of days and I would go when I felt better. He took the kids shopping with him. When I take the kids shopping with me, I spend most of my time telling them no we will not be buying orange Scooby Doo applesauce, and other things that catch their beady little eyes. I always tell them no on Gogurts because while I have no problem with Gogurts, if I tell them no, then they think they're getting one past me and it keeps them from trying it with anything else. It works for all parties. When I shop, I buy in bulk, I use coupons, I make lists, I rarely buy on impulse, and I always look for the best bang for my buck. It's my system, and it works.

Bob doesn't do that. He cames home an hour later, with bags and bags of things. Things that I would never buy, and all brand name to boot. He called me to tell me that he had bought a bunch, and that it was mostly because the kids picked stuff out. I knew what this meant. Scooby snacks in individual bags, three different kinds of crackers shaped like different sorts of animals, some of them in multiple colors, the above mentioned orange Scooby Doo applesauce. Sydney has a serious addiction to all things Scoob. I didn't even look past the bag with the cookies. The kids had this wild look in their eyes like they couldn't believe their take. They didn't even know where to begin! You know what this all means? This means all that crap in sitting in my pantry, just sitting there waiting for me. There is a reason I don't buy this stuff, it's like a drunk buying beer to keep around for company. Fortunately I'm having a hard time keeping things down, so there is no temptation right now, but you know the minute I feel better I'm going to be starving to death. And I'm not going to head for the soup and crackers. Sometimes I think he does that so that I won't ever ask him to go grocery shopping again.

And, he forgot my ice. Dammit.

What's going on with me

2009-02-19T19:56:00.000-08:00

1) I have strep throat courtesy of my dear son.
2) I spent way too much money today on rugs and other things that I thought I needed to get in order to make my house look more desirable.
3) I have until 4pm tomorrow to have the house ready to be listed, that's when our realtor is coming over.
4) I have strep throat and my house looks like I went out of town and left a house full of frat boys to take care of things.
5) I have a very nice cleaning lady named Rhoda coming over in the morning to clean my house.
6) I've been cleaning all evening in preparation for Rhoda because I am convinced that if I don't she will tell everyone in town that I'm a horrible housekeeper and when I go to Walmart everyone will stare and point at me and whisper.
7) I still think that the world revolves around me.
8) Jack is reading. How is this possible? The days of spelling dirty words is soon to come to an end.
9) We painted Jack's room and took down the Snoopy Sports border that we so lovingly put up when I was pregnant and we couldn't wait to meet him. It's all about Batman and Superman now.
10) My husband cried more than I did, but it was the paint fumes of course.
11) I hate personality theories. I really do. It will prove to be the death of my GPA.
12) I'm skipping out on PTO popcorn sales tomorrow. And I skipped out on the PTO reading program yesterday.
13) I am turning 39 on Monday. I just threw away my fake ID. How the hell am I this close to 40?
14) I look like I'm turning 39 on Monday. Again, how the hell?
15) My husband says I look 18. My husband is cooler than the other side of the pillow. My husband is also quite full of poo.

DPD - Degenerative Patience Disorder

2009-02-16T17:04:00.000-08:00

I was suppose to have my house ready to go on the market today. It's not. I'm shooting for Friday but who knows. This whole thing has my DPD acting up. DPD, or degenerative patience disorder, seems to be something that comes along when you near 40. I'll be 39 a week from today, and there will be plenty to say about that in the week ahead.

Bob has DPD bad. He's all kinds of eat up with it. There are certain things that really set it off. Kids running around after eating an entire box of valentines candy. Dogs staring at you, asking for something but you can't figure it out. That one really throws Bob into fits. He hates it when dogs stare at him. Dropping things, oh dear lawd the dropping of things. Don't get me started on those little baggies at the grocery store, I nearly had a meltdown today because I couldn't get the stupid opening apart to put limes in there. I dropped one and my head almost exploded. Our friend Trevor stubbed the tip of his toe on a highchair a couple of weeks ago and the cries of anguish could be heard as far as three counties away. To be fair, stubbing your toe hurts like a SOB. But I think that the thing that really, really makes me go ballistic has to be parking lots. Specifically the one at our local Walmart Supercenter. This deserves it's own entry one day soon. Let's just say that people really irritate me in parking lots.

There is no known cure for DPD, but there are ways to alleviate the symptoms. I've found that there are two in particular that have worked wonders for me. Xanax and Riesling. Never together, well maybe after a particular stressful day but very rarely. I'm tempted to carry around little shooters of Riesling, but there's that whole driving with the kids and needing to be sober thing. Blah blah blah.

So, as you get closer to 40, be on the look out for signs of DPD. When it happens to you, you'll know it. And so will anyone who happens upon your wrath.

Lost Keys

2009-02-15T17:38:00.001-08:00

For whatever reason, I lose my keys all the time. It's very frustrating because to save my life I have no recollection of where I last saw them. I'm flighty by nature, so it's not so surprising but it's extremely irritating for me, as well as my husband.

If I go to someone's house, I call out to everyone where I am putting my keys in hopes that someone will recall my voice. The main place that this happens seems to be my Nanas. Because when I walk in the door my mind goes blank. I've had as many as 10 people searching for my keys at one time. I went so far as to buy this little clip thing for my key chain, so that when I go somewhere I can just hook the keys to my bag, or whatever I happen to be carrying. I do not, however, hook my keys to clothing. I just can't pull the trigger on that. I also have one specific area, near my door where I leave my keys. Therefore, they are either on my bag, or in that spot. I made a vow never to spend another minute searching for my damn keys. Until Friday...

There was no school this past Friday, so my sweet nephew, Bradley spent the night. This meant that I did not sleep at all. In bed by 1am, up by 6am, and two redheads who dream of chasing rabbits and wrestling bears in bed with me. I woke up black, blue and exhausted Friday morning. At around 8am, I got my little Sam Sam who spends a couple of hours each morning with me, and his big sister because again, no school. So I had a house full of kids. I had tons of homework, my house was to be ready to go on the market tomorrow, it's not btw, and I was so tired I felt like I had stayed up all night doing shots of Chambord tea.

So Sam Sam's mom, Andy, came home, and she volunteered to take all the kids to the park so I could get caught up on some stuff. Since I have the "bus" that fits a ton of kids, I told her to take my car. The next day Jack woke up with strep throat (I know, right?) and I was getting ready to take him to the doctor, and I went to my spot to get my keys. They weren't there. I called and asked Andy where they were, and she said she had left them here. Bob and I looked all over for them, and she looked all over her belongings, but the keys were gone. It was one of those "my life would be perfect if only" moments.

OK, I only have one set of keys. I have another key, but it won't actually start the car, it will only open the doors. I know this is stupid, but I'm a very busy woman and unless I can't find my keys, it's not something I think about. Up until today we still couldn't find the keys anywhere. I called Andy and she looked again, we were all puzzled. She has strep throat now, and so she wasn't feeling like dealing with the lost keys, so I told her I would call tomorrow and get the dealer to take care of it. I was resigned that maybe the dog ate them or something.

She calls this evening, and my keys were at my Nanas. The one place that I always seem to lose them. When she left here, she went over there, and emptied her pockets, thus leaving my keys at Nanas. So I'm NOT crazy. And I didn't lose them! Andy did! My system is still in tact!

So you would think that my first duty for tomorrow would be to get up to the dealer and get another key, wouldn't you? But I won't. I know me. I won't. I won't even think of it again until I've lost the keys again. Plus, if I do that, then I won't be forced to look for my keys and I'll just be back to one set again anyway. Because not taking care of things like that until it's a problem is how I roll.

I Am Technologys Bitch

2009-02-11T18:51:00.000-08:00

It's happened. I've turned into my Nana. I do not understand any of these new fangled mechanical thingamajiggs. And I don't want to. There's too much out there.

When I was a kid, we were lucky when dad got a new tv and gave us the old tv that needed needle nose pliers to change the channel. And a computer? Forget that. My house has 4 tv's, two dvd players, three computers, two cellphones, 3 game systems, and one land line that I actually thought was messed up but simply wasn't plugged in. I swear to you that's true. And we would be lost without these things. If we had to share a computer? It would be ugly. If we had to argue over what to watch? Forget that. What would we do on snow days if we didn't have our choice of games? I have no idea.

Yet of all these things that we have, that we use daily, I only get bare minimum use of them. There are things on my cell phone that I will never use because I have no idea how to. I have the cingular ring tone, because I don't know how to change it to AC/DC. I could set up all kinds of things on my computer I'm sure, but when Bob starts to explain it to me, my eyes glaze over and I turn into Forrest Gump. I could be doing Wii Fit. But I'd probably break a hip.

I don't want to know how to text message. I would rather just talk. Why do I need to text? What purpose does it serve? What am I gonna do? Type 800813 and send it to Bob? What's he gonna do? See "BOOBIE" on his screen and get riled up? Come on. I need a new phone, and I like the Palm Centro, but why? Really I just need a jitterbug.

I don't know how to use the DVD player. If I HAD to do it, I suppose I could, but I don't want to. I don't watch DVD's without Bob, and even then I don't ever watch anything from start to finish. Although I did watch "Zack and Miri Make A Porno" the other night and it was great. My kids can work the DVD player, but I can't. If Bob's not here, I'll ask them to do it. If they aren't here, then I don't need to watch it.

If my computer does anything slightly wonky, I shut it down, close it, and call Bob. If he isn't here, I use his computer until he gets home and fixes it. I don't care, I don't have the patience to figure out what's wrong with this stuff.

My kids play Wii or any other video-type game like pro's. Jack is a Lego fah-reek. I tried to play "Cooking with Mama" about a month ago and I finally handed it over to Sydney and went to my room. Mama sucks. I play Bubbletown on my computer. And I LOVE Bubbletown. That's the extent of my game playing abilities. And even at that I've never gotten past level 10. Those little Suri Cruises drive me insane.

I blame Bob for this. He's a techno geek, and he can fix anything. And he's one of those "MOVE" guys when something breaks. Like move it before your stupidity jumps into the computer/dvd player/wii/etc.

However, I can work the DVR. And I have become quite accustomed to it. The other day our receiver was all crackhead and I couldn't remember how I existed without DVR. I never watch commercials. I never miss a show. I love my DVR. I want the new one that records 3 things at once. I would get TIVO but I could never figure that out.

So, I'll stick to mastering the DVR and Bubbletown. These are things I enjoy, they are priority. Maybe I will get a Palm Centro, and maybe I will change the ringtone to AC/DC (or Neil Diamond!). But I won't text! That's one line that I will never cross. I'm not organized enough to text. I'd send dirty messages to my uncle thinking I was sending them to Bob. You don't do that in Oklahoma without raising red flags all over town. I'm just sayin'...

Road Trip!

2009-02-05T19:17:00.001-08:00

We are considering a trip to Chicago or Houston this March, and it will be our first real trip since we had kids. When Bob was a kid he and his parents went to Florida often to visit his grandparents. Bob is an only child and his trips were made in a big fancy Cadillac with the whole back seat to himself (can you even imagine?) He would kick back and play with his GI Joes, read, color, pretty much anything he could do at home. I imagine his dad, in his flowery bowling shirt, would pull into HoJo’s for a nice meal before they took time to see touristy things on their way to the sunshine state. I picture his mom with a little martini shaker in a secret wet bar in the glove compartment. I see her wearing the latest beach wear couture with giant Jackie O sunglasses, snapping her fingers while she sang along to her Sinatra 8 tracks and enjoyed the scenery. These trips were quiet, civilized, serene, just nice.

We took trips too. It was either my parents, my sister and me. Or it was my mom, my aunt, my nana and all my cousins. Neither of them were quiet, civilized, serene or nice.

Trips with my dad were…well…umm…fun? We would set pre arranged estimated departure and arrival times. But we never left on time. We always left at least 3 hours early if not the night before. We never had a Cadi. We usually had Ford and most likely the passengers side door wouldn’t open from the inside (this was such a source of angst for me as a kid. My sister would let me out of the car when we got to school, and I would get out limping as if I were too injured to open the door myself, that should have been a HUGE red flag for my mom). The first thing my dad would do was light up a Winston. My mom would immediately start waving her arms and rolling down the window, asking him if he just wanted to kill us all before we got there. Then telling him to crack his window if he was going to smoke. This was no good. This meant that the smoke would waft behind him and to us. PLUS, if the window was cracked, the A/C wasn’t doing it’s job and that’s not fun for us. Then he would pop in either Elvis or Neil Diamond, and he turned it up all the way because the only speakers were in the back and he couldn’t hear the music, because the friggin’ window was cracked! We stopped for meals, that we ate in the car. I once got an entire cup of McDonalds OJ dropped on my head because dad took a too quick turn into a Texaco outside of Chattanooga, TN. To this day I hate orange juice. And I wasn’t the least bit surprised by that whole OJ Simpson thing.

Trips with the “ladies” of my family usually involved the three of them and seven kids. These trips were usually made in a station wagon. And always in the heat of summer. The last trip I remember there was a van, but there was a bar thing that blocked the A/C to the back seats. We did get to stay in a hotel room. A hotel room, as in ONE hotel room. The 10 of us. Oh and we got a soda. A soda, as in ONE soda between the seven of us. If we made the mistake of giving one of the two boys the drink first, no one got a drink. Meanwhile, the Supremes where in the front seat with a Pepsi and a bag of Corn nuts each. And the air was blowing right on them!

These trips are events that my sister and my cousins and I talk about often. Not fondly, but often. We aren’t too damaged. I mean sure, none of us will share a drink with anyone. And we all refuse to drive a car with no A/C . Oh and if we all go somewhere we insist on each taking our own cars so that no one has to sit in the back seat. But aside from that and a few little harmless tics we’re cool.

I think that I remember once, somewhere at that point where the trip from Oklahoma to North Carolina, and Illinois to Florida meet, that I saw a big fancy black Cadillac with a boy in the back seat napping on a feather pillow while the cool air from the A/C vent blew his soft hair. I saw him as I stuck my head out the window of a crappy pea green Ford, trying to get a breath of fresh air while Elvis Presley blasted about treating him like a fool.

I recently took a short jaunt with my parents up to OKC. I was sitting in the back seat of his truck with my kids, and my mom was in the front with him. Dad lit up a friggin’ Winston and my mom started waving her arms around and telling him to crack the window! I looked at my kids and I told them “I’m sorry that we aren’t in a Cadillac listening to Frank Sinatra. But we are in a nice Ford. Now, cover your nose and breath through your mouth, we’ll be home soon”.

Hot dog!

2009-02-04T17:02:00.000-08:00

My Bob is from Chicago, and he is all about Chicago. He loves the White Sox and when he gets riled up or drunk he sounds like Mike Ditka. I love it.

One of the best things about Chicago is the hot dog. If you have never had an authentic Chicago dog, I don't think what I'm about to tell you will sound anything short of ridiculous. In Chicago, hot dogs are a way of life. There is a place called Portillos that has the best hot dogs in town, and we went there far too often when we lived there. We moved away from the Windy City just over 7 years ago, and we haven't been back yet. Therefore, Bob hasn't had a Chicago dog in 7 years. So for his birthday last year, his mother wanted to order her angel some hot dogs from Portillos. We were having a big 40th birthday party and buying "gourment" hot dogs for 40 people was a little too much even for her. We kept putting it off, until this past week and today the big brown truck pulled up and brought to us a humongous box from Portillos.

Inside was a packet of 10 hot dogs, with buns, hot dog seasoning, relish, pickles, tomatoes, onions and the cherry on top, the sport peppers. Apparently sport peppers are only available in Illinois and nothing else will do. So tonight I took to preparing the hot dogs...

The tomatoes had to be sliced just so, the onions had to be diced just right, and even the pickles required special care. The peppers were ready to go. Once I had it all on the table, my precious sat down and meticulously built the perfect Chicago hot dog.

And once the preparation was done, and the perfect hot dog had been built, there was only one thing left to do.

I have to admit, they were good. They were damn good. Was it worth the money that was spent to have them shipped fresh all the way from Chicago? That has yet to be determined. But for him, it was worth all that and a 2 liter of Coke.

And not to be outdone, the elusive Taco dog...

I blew

2009-02-03T08:42:00.000-08:00

I knew it was going to happen. I tried to lay perfectly still and not move so as to not awaken the gods of tossing my cookies. I was doing ok until sweet little Sydney came in to my room and said she needed me to go to the potty with her. That just got things all stirred up. I feel completely hungover. I feel like I tied one on last night, and I woke up half expecting to find the phone off the hook and then shriek in terror after realizing I drunk dialed someone I should not have. Fortunately I only attempted to call my mother to "check on me in the night". I can see the bright lights of 40, and I still want my mom to check on me in the night when I get sick.

I even had the hangover water dreams. I didn't dare attempt to drink anything because it would never stay down, so I was dying of thirst at about 1am. When I was a booze hound, I would awaken to dreams of cupboards full of water bottles, of glasses upon glasses of cool, ice water. I would wake up desperately thirsty, but waaaay too sick at my stomach to actually drink anything. This is how I feel today. I'm not a drinker, the occasional wine with dinner is all I do. There is a reason for that, I hate feeling like crap, I no longer have time for it. But here I sit, sick as a dog and dying of thirst.

Both of my babies are sick, and my big baby is sick as well. He's so sick he's leaving work early. I've seen him go to work with pneumonia. He never misses work (I, on the other hand, call in sick if I stump my toe).

So wish us luck, my hope is that it passes at the 24 hour mark. Then I can bleach the entire house and get rid of this bastard germ that has taken over our lives.

My life would be perfect if only...

2009-02-02T18:22:00.000-08:00

Oh.my.gah. My son threw up in the car tonight. He was sitting in the third row and he threw up. Could he have wedged himself into a more hard to get to place? This is something that I really didn't want to ever have to deal with.

When things like this happen, I call them "my life would be perfect if..." moments. I get them a lot. Sometimes it's as simple as "if I hadn't stumped my toe", or "I didn't have to stop for gas". But sometimes it's something a little more substantial. I give you, "The Rat Incident".

When Jack was about 6 weeks old, and I had gotten about 4 hrs of consecutive sleep and was feeling pretty good, I decided to surprise Bob by throwing out the trash. I put my precious newborn in his little swing so he could watch a Baby Einstein video. I opened the garage door, and I saw a rat the size of a baby kangaroo run away from me. When this happened, I screamed and ran into the bedroom where my exhausted from staying up with the baby husband was blissfully sleeping. I ran right past my innocent, defenseless baby boy, and jumped onto the bed screaming. All I could get out was "rat!" and he knew what was happening. I'm terrified of rats, mice, etc. He jumped out of bed, asking me where the baby was, and my first thought was "the rat will eat my baby!" He ran through the house towards the kitchen, then he ran back into the living room and said "the door is open, the door to the house is open, you left it open!" I guess I didn't shut the door completely in my panic. For all we knew that rat was in our house!

My sister once told me, "that rat is more afraid of you than you are of it". I told her that wasn't possible or that rat would have dropped dead the minute I opened that door. Either that or I would have been cleaning up rat poop for a month because I nearly wet myself when I saw that bastard rat running away from me.

Later that evening, my sweet, brave husband decided to do some laundry. I told him I wasn't doing it, and at this time I was doing about 3 loads a day because Jack was a spitter. So my hero, puts on jeans, tucks them into some boots, and wears a long sleeved shirt. Then he proceeded to enter the garage carrying a sword that was as tall as the door (I wish I was kidding, I really do). I wasn't sure what he thought he would do with it, but I was sure I wasn't going to go in there so if he needed to put on a dress that was cool with me. This is how we did laundry for about two weeks. During that two weeks, we had put out some poison. That rat would take the poison, but it would leave something in it's place. Like a red pen cap. It made me even more skeeved out because I always took comfort in the fact that rodents are dumb. But if it was smart enough to think I might believe that a red pen cap was a piece of that poison than I was underestimating it. Finally one day, Bob found the rat dead. I had told him how big this rat was, and his fear was based solely on that thing being the size of a 6 week old St. Bernard puppy. He came around the front of the house with the giant rat in a pizza box. It was about the size of my fist. But it's tail was as long as my arm and that's even worse. In fact, I'm not 100% sure that it was a rat, it might have been the neighbors guinea pig, but either way it didn't belong in my garage. If it was a guinea pig that would explain why it was smart enough to leave a red pen cap when it took the poison. So maybe rodents are dumb after all.

During that two week period, everytime I thought about that filthy thing being in my garage, I would say "my life would be perfect if that bastard rat wasn't in my garage". And this is what I thought as I was cleaning up that 3rd row seat after Jack tossed his lunch. My life would be perfect if he hadn't thrown up in the car.

Now my life would be perfect if I didn't think I was going to be the next to blow.

The holiest of days

2009-02-01T09:36:00.000-08:00

Today is a very special day in our home. The anticipation leading up to it, the careful and meticulous preparations, we invite our loved one's over to celebrate that which must be celebrated. It's the one holiday that my husband takes seriously and insists on the entire family acknowledging. It's the Superbowl.

He doesn't care if there are no candy hearts with little sweet sayings on them. If he never had to color an Easter egg he would be fine. If it weren't for beer on the the 4th of July, it would just be another hot summer day. Come November, who cares about pilgrims? He hates turkey. And while he does seem to have some feelings towards Christmas, if the stockings aren't hung by the chimney with care, he'd be fine.

But let us not forget this most special of all Sundays in late January/early February. Let us have a refrigerator full of beer, a plate full of nacho's, and most importantly, quiet. On this day he wakes up like a kid on Christmas morning. His eyes all a glaze, his heart a flutter, the hope and promise of this day. After the game, he'll lay his sweet head down to go to sleep. Visions of first downs and beer commercials dancing through his head. He'll wake up tomorrow, wishing it was still Sunday. Mostly because he has to go to work, but also because it will be so very long before he can watch another football game, and an entire year before he gets to don his faded Vikings jersey, load up on pizza rolls and other disgusting food I only allow on this special day, and sit and watch this glorious event.

So today I say to him, have your day baby. It's all yours. No light bulbs will be changed today. No dogs will stare at you, begging you for something that you can't figure out. All I ask is that if the team you want to win doesn't, please don't go on and on for a year about bad calls like you did last year. And please don't sleep in the same room with me after drinking all that beer and sitting all day, we both know what it does to your system. I'm just sayin'...

Happy Superbowl!

About Me

2009-01-31T19:42:00.001-08:00

My name is Melisa. They call me Mel. In 4th grade I didn't like that because that was a boys name. Now it seems to fit. I have a kick ass husband, Bob, who rocks my world, and puts up with me. And I have two great kids who I haven't messed up too badly yet. My boy is 5, my girl is 4.

We are both from big cities. He's from Chicago, I was raised in Houston. We've lived in some of the largest cities in the country apart and together, and somehow we ended up in a small town in Oklahoma. We don't know what wicked twist of fate brought us here, but here we are. We have three insanely neurotic dogs. A psycho border collie who desperately wants to eat our nice neighbor. A chihuahua with jacked up teeth, who was abandoned at my Nanas house and my son fell in love with. And our beloved rat terrier Lexi. We got her when we lived in Michigan. She's 1/2 Canadian. When she barks, she always ends it with "eh"?

At press time we are considering buying another home. We have outgrown our humble abode and feel like now is the time to go for it with real estate being in the crapper. The flip side to that is real estate is in the crapper so we can't really sell ours. So in a time of economic crises, what is the smartest move to make? That's right boys and girls, take on another mortgage. Hey, we're a one income household, we can handle it. Like I said, living with me is never boring.

How To Seduce Your Husband

2009-01-31T19:41:00.001-08:00

Tonight we were getting ready to go out, and as usual we argued (playfully) about who keeps who waiting. I told him that if he was ready to go, out the door and waiting for me in the car, I would do things I haven't done since our wedding night. He got ready, got the kids ready, and came in and told me that he was ready to go.

I told him I would go and put a load of laundry in and do the dishes and meet him in the car. ZING!

Then he said "I'll take it". It went from my zing to his that damn fast.