Stories of an Imperfect Mom

School Daze

2011-04-07T14:44:00.000-04:00

If you work or spend a lot of time in an elementary school (or if you can remember back that far), you'll probably agree that a grade school is a pretty unique microcosm of society, with it's own culture, rules, traditions, and so forth. I've recently come to the conclusion that if the country (world?) were run like an elementary school, I think it might be a better place, or at the very least, a more polite one.

In elementary schools across the country, you will find exuberant young children running in the hallways. For every running child, there is a teacher making the runner walk back to wherever they started their hoofing, and return, at a walking pace. Children will get around this by walking as fast as they possibly can-little arms stiffly chopping the air at their sides, as they briskly make their way down the corridor. This is generally tolerated, because after all, they are walking!

Now think back to the last time you were driving down the interstate, perhaps doing about 10 over the speed limit (you know, to keep up with the flow), when some douchebag in a Lexus starts tailgating you. If you're like me, you'll slow down at that point to annoy the crap outta the guy until he passes you in a blurr of honking and angry gestures as you smile and wave. (Just me?) Anyhow, doesn't it feel great when a couple of miles down the road, you see that this guy has been pulled over for speeding? Well, imagine if our laws were like those of an elementary school! Mr. Attitude has to drive all the freakin' way back home-at speed limit-and return before he can go on to his destination! Awesome, right? Please notice that a speed walk-or, a cushion of about 10mph over limit-is tolerated. I'll bet that SirCompensatingforSomething wouldn't be speeding anymore!

Oh, and the tailgating? Well, when school kids are pushing each other in line, the rude little culprit often has to go to the end of the line. Tailgaters would have to go to the end of the visible line of traffic. Heh.

Oh, and wouldn't it be cool to be the "Line Leader" of traffic for the day? Much like being selected for jury duty, only much more fun (minus the free state paid for food), random, well behaved citizens would be selected to be line leader for the day, and would receive a special light to place on their car. As long as that light is there, no one can pass the leader of the day. Cool right? You could totally pretend you were the pace car driver of the Indy 500!

At the school I work at, students who are observed showing some type of respectful or caring behavior, or displaying self control or responsibility, can earn a "Caught Doing My Part" card from any adult in the building. These students get to proudly take their cards to the office, where the secretaries are sure to gush over their wonderful behavior, and drop their card in a box. Cards are pulled randomly by the principal, and the lucky winners get a school T-shirt to sport proudly (eventually everyone gets a shirt). All cards are posted on a bulletin board.

So, imagine-you receive a phone call from a police officer, or a senator or somebody, who tells you how fabulous it is that you have been obeying all the laws, paying your taxes on time, donating money to charity/doing volunteer work, and basically, being a responsible member of society. Your name will be read on the evening news, and you will be receiving a check for $5,000 soon-just for doing what you are expected to do anyway. Who wouldn't like that?

I could go on forever-special treatment on your birthday, regularly scheduled, frequent restroom breaks during the workday, people made to politely take turns, lunch for everyone, whether you can afford it or not, etc. Any other ideas?

Ultimate Blog Party 2011

2011-04-02T20:21:00.000-04:00

Woohoo! It's imaginary party time again! It was so exciting last year, that I just had to do it again. Of course, I'm fashionably late once more to the pretend party scene-after all, now it's a tradition! In case you aren't familiar, 5 Minutes for Mom hosts an annual link party-it's lots of fun, and a great way to find new blogs to read. Check it out!

Imaginary parties are so much easier and less stressful to host, don't you think? After all, I don't have to spend the whole day before cleaning and scrubbing while ~~complaining loudly and often about what slobs we must be~~ whistling and singing happily. At an imaginary party, I can have fabulous, elaborate decorations, fancy, ultra trendy cupcakes with unusual flavors, and a huge spread of mouthwatering, sophisticated h'ordourves. Unlike what I do in real life, which besides the cleaning the day before, means heading to Super Target for the finest in microwaveable, premade finger foods (Taquitos and Rotel dip, anyone?), and grocery store bakery cake. I'm SO not Martha Stewart. Also, at a virtual party, I don't have to pretend to be nice when my clumsy uncle spills his soda on the freshly shampooed carpet. Again.

So, anyhow, thanks for stopping by my blog, Stories of an Imperfect Mom. My name is Bethany, and I am a mom to 2 kids-my daughter Little Bit, who is 10, and my son Tot, who is 8. Hubby and I have been married for 14 years, and we live with our kids, 2 cats, 1 dog, and a few fish ~~and several cobwebs and dustbunnies~~ in suburban Indiana. I work as a Title 1 teacher during the week, and on the weekends I generally freak out about how I'm going to get the cleaning, grocery shopping, and laundry done while taking my kids to their various softball, baseball, basketball and scouting activities. As a result, I've sort of become a bit of a blogging slacker recently, but I'm trying to get my blog mojo back.

When I do actually write (gee, this isn't sounding too promising, is it?), I write about my life, my kids, memories, gripes, or whatever pops into my head-along with a healthy dose of sarcasm and goofiness. Please check out my side bar for some "samples" of Imperfect Mom, or check out last year's Party post (when I wasn't too lazy to include actual links to my good stuff like I am now). Thanks for visiting, and I'd like to say that my posts aren't usually this lame, but I'd be lying. Please leave a comment with your blog, and I'll come visit! Have fun!

Complaint Department

2011-03-08T13:15:00.000-05:00

I know I should be more postive, I really should. I have so much to be thankful for, and all that jazz. But, the complaints pour forth from my mouth like that fizzy Coke Zero I spilled all over the end table and carpet last week. As soon as I make up my mind to be positive, something annoying happens. Like, I'm trying to get to work early, and I get stopped by a train that is just sitting on the tracks. (Hello? Train people? It's this thing called "rush hour" and people are trying to get to work! Can you move your big, dumb, slow train out of the road until you are actually ready to go?) Or, I spill my Coke all over the carpet. Or, my kids who are supposed to be doing their homework are wrestling on the floor after the fifteen hundreth time I've yelled at them to quit. They giggle and laugh until someone actually gets hurt, and then there is yelling, and stomping, and arguing. (It's always fun and games until someone gets hurt, you know...) Or, the kitchen trash is overflowing AGAIN, and dangit! Why can't anyone but me ever take it out, and pleasestoppilingstuffontopofthefullcanforPete'sfreakin'sake!! Whew! See, I'm getting myself all worked up again.

It just happens like that, though. My good intentions are always thwarted by annoying crap. Oh, sometimes I'm good. I'll try to think how grateful I am that I left for work early. I'll grit my teeth and swiftly wipe up the mess. I'll quietly count to three and then calmly give each little offender a strike on their behavior chart. I'll keep my mouth shut and take out the trash, while trying to think of the things that other people do around the house. But inside? I'm seething. I hold it in for a while, until the next minor annoyance occurs, and then, BAM! The pent up griping explodes like a Coke that has been shaken up. What good is outward nicety when the inside is bubbling away with aggravation and ugliness?

I heard an idea on the radio the other day about keeping a Complaint Jar in the house. Everytime someone complains, they have to put some money in the jar. My ears perked up briefly, thinking what a good object lesson it would be for my kids, but I quickly changed my mind after a (disturbingly satisfying) image of myself popped up. I'd be standing there, with a fistfull of dimes poised over the jar, as Clink! WHY DOES EVERYONE yada yada yada...and Ka-chink! HOW COME YOU ALWAYS blah blah blah...and Ka-ching! AND ANOTHER THING! Yeah, maybe that's not such a great object lesson for the kiddos afterall.....

Yes, I know-I need to work on my attitude more. I need to pray about it, and repeat all the Bible verses about thankfulness and such that I can think of. I need to remember those starving kids in....well, lots of places. I need to think warm, fuzzy happy thoughts about how much I love my family, and how grateful I am to have a job, and a home, and...and... you know.

But, in the mean time, maybe I'll just start taking a different route to work.

Photo from: http://cfbstubbs.pbworks.com/w/page/12272262/Habit-1:-Be-Proactive

Bringin' Back the Mojo

2011-03-04T23:07:00.000-05:00

Oh, yeah! I have a blog, don't I? Maybe I ought to post something more than once a month or so, huh? The thing is, I'm just not feeling the blog writing mojo this year-hopefully I can get back into it.

I decided to participate in My Little Life's Five Question Friday to help get the mojo flowing again. (Does "mojo" flow, or does it just exist in a solid form? Gaseous vapor, perhaps? Hmmmm....) Anywho, here goes:

1. Have you ever forgotten your child in a store or at school?

You know, I honestly don't think I have. I'm not sure why that surprises me so much, either. There was once, though, when my daughter was about 3 and was throwing a screaming fit through Marshall's that I would have liked to forget her, LOL! I had recently had a baby, and I remember crying all the way home thinking, "Why, God? Why can't I ever have any time for just me?" Ah.....the good old days.....

2. Where did you go on your very first date? (Like...first first, not first with your spouse or current significant other!)

My first date was a double date at age 15. We went to the mall, walked around the food court, and then saw Pretty Woman. I was rocking some acid washed jeans, rolled up at the cuffs to show off my neon green scrunch socks. I topped my stylish ensemble with a fluorescent pink, long sleeved shirt. I was rocking a spiral perm, complete with curled bangs, and "wings" at the sides. Seriously-I used to hold my long hair straight out at the sides, douse it with some Lady Breck or Aussie Sprunch hairspray, and then shoot it with the blow dryer so that I got a good 4-5 inches of it to stick straight out. Lovely. Combined with the braces, I was one hot mama. I suppose it's a sign that I remember more about what I wore and how I looked than I remember about the actual date...

3. What's your "silly" fear? (We're not talking water and heights.)

I'm freaked out by images of those green aliens with the big, almond shaped eyes. Other than that, and sometimes being a little afraid to walk into a dark room, my other fears are less silly-to some people anyway.
4. Confrontation: do you cause it, deal with is as it comes, or run far far away?

I not only run away from confrontation, but I take a cab to the airport and fly away from it. Just the mere thought of any type of confrontation makes me nervous. However, if something needs to be said or done, I will do it-if no one else will. I'm more of a diplomat than a peacemaker at all costs. When I was a kindergarten teacher, I was often the one "chosen" to speak up about some injustice or problem, because I can generally handle situations tactfully without losing my cool. Although, the older I get, the more outspoken I become... Then there's that whole "when I get mad I cry" problem, which embarrasses me, so I get madder, and cry harder. I prefer to take the head in the sand approach as long as possible.

5. Wood floors or carpet?

Wood floors look nice, but I also like the softness and comfort of carpet. Right now, they both need to be cleaned, so I'm not happy with any of it. I've always thought that a concrete floor with a drain in the middle would be kind of awesome from a practicality standpoint-hose it down once a week, and we're good to go!

Ok, there we go. I'm not going to link up at My Little Life this time, but I encourage you to go over there and check out the other posts!

A Stylish Centennial!

2011-02-03T15:52:00.000-05:00

Friends, not only is this my 100th post, but I also have an award to accept! Melissa of Nouns and Violets, awarded me the Stylish Blogger award! Me, stylish? With my hair that is a month past due on cut and color? I'm on snow day 3, so I haven't even put on makeup in a while (except for under eye concealerr, so I don't frighten my children), although I did put on matching, clean socks today! That's semi-stylish, right? Well, I do like clothes, makeup, magazines and style blogs (speaking of style blogs-know any good ones?), so I guess I can be virtually stylish. Anyhow, thank you for the award, Melissa! Check out her blog, I think you'll like it! To accept the award, I need to list 7 things about myself and then pass the award on to others, so I'll get to that in a bit.

This is my 100th post! How should I celebrate? I used to teach Kindergarten, and we'd celebrate the 100th day of school by making paper crowns with "100" on them. (Much like the one in the picture that my daughter is wearing from her 100th day of Kindy-now she's a "big" 4th grader!) While that sort of kooky thing is right up my alley, I'd have lots of 'splaining to do if I sported one of those bad boys around the house today. Although a diamond tiara with "100" on it would go along with the whole "stylish" thing! In Kindy, we'd also paste 100 random objects to posterboard, but that sounds sort of boring. We'd also graph 100 M&M's, but I sort of already ate them all, once I rediscovered my secret stash. I could post 100 random facts about me, or 100 of my favorite websites, but frankly, I don't have that kind of an attention span. I'm also not going to post a bunch of links to some of my best (least worst?) posts-I've done that before, and I'm too lazy to do it again.

So, I'm going to need your help in celebrating! Put on your diamond 100 tiaras, and your rhinestone studded go-go boots (what? It's my party!), and help me out by listing 10 of your favorite things! They can be favorite websites, blogs, foods, movies, random things, or whatever. If ten people list ten things, then guess what? We'll have 100, kids!

My 10 Favorites (at the moment)
1. Coke Zero
2. Giant Chewy Sweet Tarts
3. Chipotle Chips and salsa
(no, my favorites aren't all food related, just most of them!)
4. sleeping late
5. soft, fuzzy blankets
6. warm, sunny summer days
7. beaches
8. flip flops
9. shopping with no children along
10. wacky reality tv shows on TLC

Ok, so now that I've told you some facts about me, I get to pass along the Stylish Blogger Award on to some other stylish ladies and great bloggers! Ladies, if you wish to accept, share at least 7 facts about yourselves, and pass the award on. Check out their blogs, they rock!

Organized Chaos
The Adventures of JAMC She just celebrated her 500th post!
Working Mom Back to School

Things I Wonder About

2011-02-02T14:00:00.000-05:00

Ok, this one really bothers me, even though it shouldn't. Why is Buffalo Wild Wings referred to as BW3's? I've devoted far more mental power to this question than I am comfortable admitting. Where does the 3 come from? There are only 2 W's in the name, and there are obviously way more than 3 locations of this restaurant. They have more than 3 sauces to choose from, and more than 3 types of things to order, so WHAT IS THE DEAL? If you can shed any light on this subject for me, I'd appreciate it. Also, if you'd like to send some of BW3's boneless wildwings with Asian Zing sauce directly to my house, that'd be great, too.

Also, have you seen the Cialas commercial with the people sitting in the bathtubs? Separate, old fashioned bathtubs? On the beach, and then under some water fall type thing? What?! If a person, or a person's spouse had trouble with...well....that....and a drug fixed the problem, then why would they be sitting in separate bathtubs in public places? And why are the bathtubs there in the first place? Who would drag old fashioned claw foot tubs onto the beach, anyhow? Wouldn't that be against zoning laws in most places? I know, I know. I'm taking this far too seriously. It's just a commercial. But the stupidity of it annoys me. Can you imagine being in the room when the advertising agents pitched the idea to the Cialas people?
"So, we've got this couple, right? They've had some issues, but now that they've taken the drug, everything is great! So, they are sitting in these bathtubs...."
"No sir, there's no water in the tubs, and don't worry, they are fully clothed and in separate tubs, so the censors won't get upset."
"Yes ma'am! We thought it was a brilliant idea, too!"

We've had an ice storm, and school has been closed for 2 days, so as you can tell, I've had plenty of time to think about these things....

Bethany's Law

2011-01-20T22:06:00.000-05:00

I'm sure we've all heard of Murphy's Law; if anything CAN go wrong, it WILL, and at the WORST possible time. Well, I'm going to write about Bethany's Law, which means.....well, basically......um.....ok, it means the same darn thing, I just wanted to personalize it more. Without further ~~rambling~~ ado (?) adeiu (?) adoo (?) (what the heck? Why don't I know how to spell that word?!) delay, here we go!

Just when you have almost successfully completed day 2 of solo lunch duty, and you've managed to get 125+ kindergarten and first graders (mostly) quiet while they put their trays up, someone will puke.

After it's snowed hard all day, you've spent 10 minutes chipping the ice of your car after work and are worried you won't be home when your kids get off the bus, your car battery will turn out to be dead.

After you've managed to make good eating choices for a few days, and have started to feel good about the way your pants are feeling looser, the above will happen, and you will stress eat 10 vanilla sugar wafers, some grasshopper cookies, leftover taco salad, a roll of Smarties and a bowl of hot and sour soup in the space of 90 minutes.

When you receive a set of gloves, hat and scarf for Christmas that do not match your coat at all, and decide that you now have a good excuse to buy a new winter coat to match, the gloves will develop big holes in them the second time you wear them.

Just when you get all the laundry done, your husband will clean out his closet, and unearth 2-3 loads of forgotten about towels, shirts, and other stuff. You will leave these "discoveries" for him to wash, which means that they are still sitting in a pile outside his closet door 3 weeks later.

Ok-that's all I've got for now, but I'm sure there will be more. What can you add?

Oh, guess what? Even though I've been such a slacker blogger for...um...months now, I won an award! Awesome! I'll post about it soon, and let you know who gave it to me, and all the details before I pass it along.

Tales of a Title 1 Teacher

2011-01-14T21:37:00.000-05:00

Ok, so I just finished my first full week at the new job. I'm settling in-I can actually go through my day now without carrying my trusty schedule with it's 50 different places I need to be every 10-30 minutes on it. I do like the fact that my day is so fast paced-there's no time to get bored, and just when I've reached my annoyance limit with a particularly challenging...ummmmm...little "personality", I get to give them back to their teacher! Here are some little highlights from my week, and things I've learned.

-Boisterous second grade boys who are hyped up from being with a male teacher who sings Sponge Bob songs with them, will walk very quietly in the hallway and exhibit stellar behavior for 30 minutes with me just for the ~~bribe~~ promise of getting to eat a single Smartie candy. Not a ROLL, mind you, because have you seen what they are paying me? But a single, solitary Smartie. And Canadians, our Smarties aren't even chocolate covered like yours are.

-I'm SO old. Yes, I re-learned that this week, when reading a book about hurricanes with a group of 4th graders who have absolutely no memory of Hurricane Katrina. What?! Wasn't that pretty recent?

-First grade boys graciously extend invitations to their birthday parties to every human being they come into contact with. I've been invited to two birthday parties this week alone. I've always wanted to be popular!

-If you are ever feeling down about yourself, or are having a bad hair day, visit a first grade classroom for a few minutes. They are very generous with the heartfelt compliments. I've had positive remarks on my hair, my nails, my ID badge, my clothing, etc., etc. It's been quite lovely for my self esteem.

-Kindergarteners and first graders are cute and adorable so that we won't kill them when they are repeatedly screeching across the cafeteria in their high pitched little voices, or arguing over where to sit, or over who took who's blue crayon, or doing the chain reaction thing when one person asks to go to the bathroom, and suddenly everyone is asking, just for kicks.

-Fourth graders seem so big and so old at school, but when I get home, my own fourth grader seems so little and young. (She's average sized and mature, but it's a context thing.)

-Teachers rock. I do not want my own classroom again anytime soon. Getting 27 little people of varying levels and stages of maturity to actually listen and do what they are supposed to do all day every day is a very hard job! Especially when 5 of those people always need to use the restroom, another 5 of them always need to go sharpen a pencil, 5 more of them can't keep their hands to themselves, and 2-3 of them don't speak much English.

-This job is costing me money. Besides the books, office supplies, ~~bribes~~ behavior incentives and other materials that I've spent money on, I've felt compelled to chip in for a baby shower gift for a teacher I haven't even met yet. Plus, a coworker is really trying to get me to sign up for the Zumba class she teaches. I owe my soul to the company store.

-It's possible for a 5 year old to "accidentally" end up with his fingernails all colored with purple marker like nail polish. Really, it just happens, somehow, or at least that's what they tell me. You know, you're just going along, working in the old writing center, happily singing a little song about pee that you made up to annoy your sister, when suddenly you look down at your nails, and whoa! What's this? My fingernails are purple!

-It's hard to turn off the "teacher" when I get home. I've found myself using the words "inside voices" and "walking feet" after school hours. I also found myself asking my husband to please stop distracting Tot while he does his homework. In another couple of weeks, I'm sure I'll be expecting him to raise his hand before he can speak to me.

So, there you have it. I may not make a lot of money, but there's always something interesting happening!

I'm Soooo Tired!

2011-01-08T20:42:00.000-05:00

I'm exhausted. I started a new job on Thursday at a local elementary school. I'm a Title 1 Assistant, which means that I'm actually a Title 1 Teacher, but the district is ~~too cheap~~ unable/unwilling to pay teacher salary for this job, so they are calling it an assistant position in order to get away with paying the instuctional assistant, 29.5 hour a weeek, hourly wage instead. Yeah....I sort of found that out the hard way. I don't mind the job when I'm there-in fact, I think it will be kind of nice once ~~someone has time to train me~~ I figure out all by myself what's expected of me. I'm working with groups of kids K-4, basically moving from place to place every 15-30 minutes, back and forth throughout the building. Maybe I'll lose weight! All of that is good, I certainly don't have time to get bored, and I enjoy working with the kids, but oh my.....the planning. The. Planning. I've spent at least 4-5 hours yesterday and today working on lesson plans for next week. Unpaid hours, of course. Yes, if I were a salaried teacher, the hours of lesson planning and materials gathering is just an understood part of the job, but I'm not. So, I'm whining about it. But only at home, on Facebook, and here. Keeping the smiley, perky, "just happy to be part of the team" on at work. Anyhow, enough negativity. I'll just stop and not mention the fact that I've already spent nearly $80 on supplies. I had to buy my own stinkin' paperclips!

So, it's Saturday evening. My son had an 8 am basketball game this morning, so no sleeping in for us, I'm up to eyeballs in laundry, I've grocery shopped and done my lesson planning. I'm trying to get all of this done now, because, did I mention? I still have to work at my old job (the tutoring company) for the next two weeks on Monday and Wednesday evenings, too. I'm stressing out, and exhausted, and my husband's frustrated advice of "Just quit, then!" isn't helping.

Enter some comedic relief. My son, who had been peeling and eating a clementine at the kitchen table, comes over and grabs a freshly washed and folded washcloth off the coffee table (I tend to spread my folded laundry all over the table as I sit on the couch). After he wipes his sticky face with it, he takes it to the table to clean up his mess. He brings it back, clementine pieces hanging on to it and all, folds it neatly ( I had no idea he even COULD fold that neatly!), and sets it carefully back on the pile of clean washcloths. This is the boy who never remembers on his own to put anything away. I had to laugh-he was trying so hard to be helpful, since he could tell I was tired and stresed. I guess I could put him to work folding the clean clothes...

Really?!

2010-12-14T23:33:00.000-05:00

I feel like I'm always doing laundry-I do several loads a week. But, I always have a serious back log of excess laundry. This past weekend, I was determined to get it ALL done. Really. I started on Friday afternoon, and washed, washed, washed. When my husband got home from work on Saturday, I asked him to please get his laundry from ~~the floor of the bedroom~~ his "special" laundry hamper and sort it into piles by color with the rest of the laundry, because I wasn't sure what needed to be washed. He replied that all of it needed to be washed, and promptly fell asleep on the couch. Mmmmmkay. Guess I'll do that for ya there, honey. Anyhow, not one, but TWO loads of laundry came out of the washer with packs of gum in them. We like our laundry with a clean, minty fresh scent. I found most of it before it hit the dryer, but not all of it. Thankfully, the clothes were somehow unscathed, but Saturday evening found me peeling tiny bits of gum out of the inside of the dryer, and I ended up with gum on the bottoms of my socks and on the knees of my jeans. I know you envy the endless glamour that is my life. After lots of complaining, and many dramatic sighs, I announced to my groggy husband that he was in trouble for leaving gum in his pockets. Again. (Yes, this has happened before.) His response? I should have checked his pockets first. Really?! I just washed 100's of articles of clothing, and I'm supposed to make sure everyone's ~~only his~~ pockets are empty ~~after I pick them up off the bedroom floor myself~~? REALLY?! His next response was that he didn't ask me to do his laundry. Well, guess who will be doing his own laundry from now on?
Disclaimer-He's a pretty good guy, so I feel sort of guilty for posting this, but really?! C'mom! Be a grownup and pull the gum out of your pockets ~~before you throw your clothes on the floor~~ before you put your clothes in the hamper!

I got the kids haircuts last Thursday after school, and then Friday afternoon, I got them all dressed up, curled my daughter's hair, and took loads and loads of festive potential Christmas card pictures in front of the Christmas trees. This is pretty much an annual tradition, and one that I generally stress over-usually needlessly. The kids looked cute, behaved well, and didn't give me any "weird" smiles, like they do sometimes. Pleased with our efforts, I let them change their clothes and play, as I downloaded the pictures. Every. Single. Picture. turned out grainy and sort of blurry. Really?! I couldn't use a single one. We repeated the process on Sunday with a different camera, which worked better, but the kids were sort of over it, and the pictures didn't come out as cute as the others would have been. Bah Humbug.

I've had lots of little "really?!" moments lately. I'm trying not to get bogged down with the frustration of it all, but it's difficult to "rise above". I've risen as far as I can go! (And now I see that I need to knock the cobwebs out of those high corners again...) Sometimes it's good to vent. Speaking of "vents"...I hope there isn't any gum stuck to the dryer vent...

Ask Aunt Bethy

2010-12-03T19:37:00.000-05:00

*blowing away the cobwebs* Hi! I'm back! I'm still slacking on the posting, I know. Sorry about that. I'm sure you've all been waiting with baited breath (phew! Sheesh! How about sucking on a Mentos, or something!) for me to post again, right? (Humor me, people.) Well, as you've no doubt noticed, I'm out of writing ideas, and very much into lounging on my couch watching tv and reading other people's blogs instead.

With that said, I've decided to surf for blog material. I went to one of those "ask a question" type sites, and after being at turns horrified, stunned, interested, and tickled (old fashioned word, I know, but what else is a good verb for "thought something was funny") by the questions, I've decided upon a few, real, word for word questions to answer here, Imperfect Mom style.

Ready? Here we go.

I found my wife passed out on the kitchen floor with an empty bottle of chocolate syrup lying beside her...?

And.....sooooo..... You say this like it's an unusual thing. Everyone needs a little "Me Time" right?

I'm in McDonalds, d'you think it'd be OK if I left my laptop on the table for 2 minuets?

Sure! Everyone will be too stunned by the sight of you dancing in 3/4 time around the condiment/drink station to even think about stealing your laptop. (Unless you live in New York City-I hear they're pretty used to weird stuff there.)

Integrate the expression x^4/(e^x - 1)^2 in the limits 0 to infinity?

Ummm....well....errrrrrr..... Oh heck, we ALL know the answers to THAT, right? Heh, heh. Yeah. So...ummm...I'll just move on to another category, because this question is just too....obvious...yeah, that's it. *ahem*

What is the Parents Worst Nightmare?

You. Next!

Need to have wisdom teeth removed ASAP, how will this effect breastfeeding?

Well honey, if your child has wisdom teeth, I'd say it's time to stop nursing anyhow. (Ba-dum-bum! That's me making a rimshot noise!)

OMG !!! Why does the United States have to throw tantrums and overreact to evverrything?

OMG!!!!!!!! I don't KNOW!! It's sooo crazzzy, right? That country is, like, such a baby, or something.

Ok, I realize I'm just acting like a jerk now.

Does the proper way to do Christmas shopping involve a bottle of vodka and Amazon.com?

Sure, if the people on your gift giving list won't be upset to receive gifts like these:
http://www.amazon.com/Unknown-Toilet-Monster/dp/B000OUV5XM/ref=pd_sim_k_23

http://www.amazon.com/Accoutrements-11761-Novelty-Yodeling-Pickle/dp/B0010VS078/ref=pd_sim_sg_27

http://www.amazon.com/Accoutrements-Squirrel-Underpants/dp/B001NQE3F8/ref=pd_sim_sg_2

http://www.amazon.com/Inflatable-Toast/dp/B0016CSBS4/ref=pd_sim_t_5

Whore do some women get the idea that "men just want one thing"?

I think you just answered your own question there, Mr.Woods.

How to live and survive in such a cruel world?

I think I'll let "Sarge" answer this one.

There we go. Help me out, here. I just spent way too much time looking for questions. Do you have a burning question that needs an answer? Ask away, and I'll answer some in a future post. Just no math questions. You know, because they're too....easy. Yeah. Uh huh.

Pink Bethany

2010-11-19T19:25:00.000-05:00

Hello, hello hello. Is there anybody in there? Just nod if you can hear me. Is there anyone at home?
Sooooooo....I've read that when blog readers hear the words "sorry it's been so long since I've blogged" at the beginning of the post, they are turned off, and often don't read further. So, how about some slightly kooky Pink Floyd lyrics, instead? Hey, it got you to read this far, right? Right? Hello? Yoooooohoooooo, where'd you go?

You've likely noticed that I've been taking a long....um....vacation? hiatus? break? from blog posting. Sorry about that. We had a big family crisis occur, and I just didn't feel like my usual, goofy self for a while. Don't worry, we're all healthy and together, and things are better.

So, what have I been doing with all my free time? (you know, when I'm not working, taking care of kids, doing laundry, or complaining about my dog and his hair/how he smells/how he's scratching up my wood floors/how I'm allergic to him/how he paces around and whines, etc? ) Well, I've apparently been watching too much TV Land, because I find myself calling my dog Lamont (because he's a big dummy) and saying "ah geez, would you stifle?!" Oh boy, if you weren't alive for part of the 70's, today's post is probably making no sense... Well, it probably doesn't make sense to the rest of you either, actually.... Is it really bad that I'm kind of glad that my dog is probably a lot older than the 2 years that the animal shelter estimated?

Why, yes I AM completely babbling in a nonsensical manner. More so than usual, even! Thanks for noticing. I'll try to pull my scattered thoughts together for a normal post in a day or two-I just wanted to let you all know that I am still here, and haven't totally abandoned the old blog. I've just been (un)comfortably numb. Heh, see what I did there?

Picture is from www.relictees.com . I think I need this one!

Confessions of an Imperfect Mom

2010-10-22T16:17:00.001-04:00

Have those Super Mom freaks got you down? Do you feel like you can never be as "good" as they are? Do all of their "must dos" and rules have you overwhelmed? Well, forget about them, and all their supposed perfection. Forget about that sanctimoniously shocked look that PTA mom might have given you when she saw your 2 year old happily cramming Chicken McNuggets down her gullet, while your 7 year old stole a big slug of your Starbucks. Forget that judgy/pitying look that other Mom in the doctor's office gave you when you pulled out a bottle to feed your baby with. They're Pharisees. Legalists. And they're probably liars, too. They (secretly) may not follow all the "rules" either. They just don't have the confidence to admit it.

Have you broken some of the Perfect Mom Rules? I have. Sure, most of those rules are actually based upon really good ideas-but some folks would have us believe that our children are doomed if we don't do every.single.thing. that the parenting books and magazines tell us to, all.the.time. (Ever notice how that advice changes every few years, anyhow? Yet, the majority of humans somehow make it beyond childhood. Imagine that....)

So, I thought I'd share some of my own Imperfect Mom Confessions. Now, if you believe differently than me, that's ok. Really. We all just need to cut each other some slack.

I didn't breastfeed my children And I don't feel guilty about it. Can you believe I just admitted that?! On a Mom blog?! For real?! I know. But it's the truth. I didn't breastfeed either of them, yet somehow, they are still capable of passing our state's standardized testing! Crazy, right? Despite what I was warned when they were infants, they are not dumb, sickly, allergic to everything, or fat. By no means am I putting down breastfeeding-I promise you I'm not!! I've read the research, there are many great reasons to breastfeed. So, if that is a mother's choice, then that's wonderful. But if her choice is to formula feed, then that's great too, because her kids will be fine. I promise. (And if they aren't, then it won't be because they drank baby formula.) I've got two healthy, honor roll kids to prove it. Hey, I was a formula baby, and not only did I make it to adulthood, but I obtained a college degree. Plus, I'm really ~~smart~~ ~~sane~~ ~~normal~~ ~~cute~~ ~~funny~~ ok.
My kids eat food from McDonald's at least once every other week. Yes, I've seen Fast Food Nation. Yes, I know that eating fast food all the time isn't healthy. Yes, I've read the reports about how McDonald's food doesn't decompose like other foods do. Actually, that sort of fascinates me-every time I find a 6 month old french fry under the seat in the minivan that still looks fresh from the fryer, from now on I'm going to wonder why McDonald's doesn't have their own line of anti-aging skin creams. Seriously, I think I'm on to something with this....
My kids were preschool age before they gave up their pacifiers. Before I had kids, I would roll my eyes (at least inwardly) when I saw a toddler with a binky. I insisted that no child of mine would have a pacifier past 6 months of age. Then, I had kids of my own. Yep. I think I could end this one here, and you'd all understand, right? My daughter gave up hers when she turned three, but my son didn't until he turned 4. Yikes-that does sound kind of bad in print. We tried the Binky Fairy, the Let's Give All the Binkies to the Poor Babies Who Don't Have Any gimmick, we tried using logic (Ha! Have you met a preschooler?) , and we tried cold turkey. That whole "Cold Turkey" thing led my brother in law, who was living with us at the time, to go to the store for a new pacifier for our three year old son in the midst of a very bad storm. He literally got hailed on walking out of the store, and there were tornadoes in the area. My son, who is terrified of storms still, had been crying inconsolably for hours. No amount of love, hugs, rocking, or reassurance would stop the wailing. But once he had his precious new "doot-doot", all was well with the world once again. We'll be telling that story at his wedding someday, for sure! Anyhow, they both gave them up eventually, and are both quite well adjusted. Plus, their dental problems have nothing to do with pacifiers-it's all genetic. Unless that horrible Similac has something to do with it...

So, there you go. I'm sure I'll have more confessions for you another time, but I think I've stirred up enough controversy already. If I could tell my Younger Mom Self one thing, it would be to relax-everything will be ok. I wonder what my Middle Aged Mom Self would say to the current me about raising teens? Scratch that, I'm afraid to find out!

Road Rage Letters

2010-10-12T19:38:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

To the Very Rude and Angry Man Who Was Waiting to Turn,

I cannot even express how sure I am that it is not my fault that YOU did not realize that my turn signal was on, and had been on, for a very appropriate length of time. I realize that you would have turned sooner if you had known that I was turning onto the road you were waiting on in your redneck mobile. However, I also realize that I gave you two very important clues regarding my intention to turn: first, I turned on my turn signal in advance, and second, I slowed down as I approached my turn. Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the purpose of turn signals. Perhaps in your neighborhood, one must throw a crumpled beer can out the window in the direction one intends upon turning. Or maybe you just yell out the window "Hey, ya'll! I'm fixin' to turn!" But here in the 'burbs, we have these flashy light thingies, and these thingies blink on the side that we are going to be turning. This eliminates the need for big neon arrows, and cuts down on car crashes.

So, since I followed the rules, I feel quite insulted that you decided to blare your horn, yell disparaging and hurtful remarks about my personal character, and raise both arms out the window in that "what the heck?" motion. I hope that the next time you do that, your arms freeze in place, shrivel and atrophy from lack of use, and then dry up and crumble away. Likewise, I hope that your foot becomes like a lead magnet on the brake pedal. Then, everyone behind you will honk and scream obscenities to you because you can't move, and you will have plenty of time to sit and think about what a sad, lonely, alienating jerk you are.

Hope This Helps,

Bethany

Was that a little too harsh?

What Would You Stitch on a Pillow?

2010-10-10T15:43:00.001-04:00

You know those decorative pillows that southern belles, debutantes, and beauty contestant types supposedly have on their big, fluffy, canopied beds? The ones with inspirational statements on them? Well, I've decided that I ought to make some of my own! I could even sell them on etsy or in craft fairs! You know, if I had the attention span and talent to sew and embroider and cross stitch, that is. Well, I may never have an adorable, trendy etsy shop with handmade in demand stuff, but I do have this blog, so I'll share some of my favorite inspirational, words to live by, quoted directly from Yours Truly. (Some directly swiped from my Twitter feed-Komedy Gold, I tell you!)

Fall is Overrated
If It's Too Cold For Flipflops, It's Too Cold
A Well Made Gravy Goes With Everything
If This is the Start of My Midlife Crisis, Then Where is My Sports Car?
Everything in Life Can Be Related to an Episode of Friends or Seinfeld
Cheese Makes Everything Better
The One Time You Have Family Over and Run Out of Toilet Paper, Grandma Will Complain and Harp on it For the Next Five Years (not that that actually happened, or anything....)

What would you stitch on a pillow?
(picture used is from SundayGift.com)

By the way-I'd appreciate it if a few of you could do me a favor. I'm working on possibly getting a temporary teaching job, and have applied a few places. I received an automated email back from one district asking me if I had a home page, because they like to see what potential employees can do with technology. So, not knowing what else to do, I started an education related blog. I have zero followers, so it'd probably look better if I had a few, ;-) If you wouldn't mind following me here, I'd appreciate it! It probably won't be terribly exciting, so don't feel compelled to read it if you want. If you have suggestions-I'm open to hearing them, but please be kind! Thanks!

Dieting Advice I Don't Want to Hear Anymore

2010-10-02T15:46:00.001-04:00

Well, it's that time again. I need to lose some weight. I've gained 8 frickin' pounds (on top of the 30+ I already need to lose), and I'm down to 2 pairs of pants that fit comfortably. Gee, I miss the days of eating what I wanted and not having to worry about it-that was wonderful! Then, I turned 30, and my metabolism came to a screeching halt. Really! At 29, it was still chugging away, maybe not running quite as smoothly as it did at say, 23, but it was still getting the job done. Then, the day I turned 30, it just quit. Not a cough, or a sputter, just...nothing. The warranty must have run out. Isn't that how it goes with everything else? When it's under warranty, it's great, but as soon as the warranty expires-BAM! A $567 repair bill.

Anyhow, I go through this often, and after I finally build up the motivation to start exercising and counting calories, I watch the pounds hang on like preschoolers who won't leave their mommies on the first day of school. Finally, one or two will be ripped away screaming "Noooooo!!! You can't do this to me! I'll be back, and next time, I'll bring friends! Bwahahaha!" Eventually, I get tired of counting calories, and even more sick of exercising, and I quit. I have a short attention span-I just don't have the patience to stick with it. So, here I go again. In order to build up my motivation, I've been searching around on the internet, looking to see if there are any new, life-changing diet tips that will turn me into a motivated person who is addicted to exercise, and no longer dreams of all the foods I shouldn't eat much of. No such luck-it's just the same old stuff-that I'm tired of hearing. For example:

It's not a diet, it's a lifestyle change. This is supposed to help me feel better, how! So in a nutshell, not only do I have to limit my portions and favorite foods while I'm trying to fit my boo-tay back in my jeans, but I have to do it forever?! If I can't even manage to do that for a few measly weeks before getting bored, how am I ever going to have the motivation to do that for the rest of my life? Sure, I like some healthy foods, but I also love cheesey, saucy, yummy comfort foods.

You can still enjoy going out to eat, just look for grilled or broiled chicken or fish with no sauces, and eat a salad with dressing on the side. Going out to dinner is something I really enjoy. I like food! (except fish!) So after weeks of watching what I eat at home, I'm supposed to have the willpower and desire to go to a restaurant and actually choose to forgo the yummy stuff in favor of chocking down a piece of flavorless chicken and a dry salad while everyone else eats food with taste? Seriously? I'd rather stay home. And possibly cry....

If you drink lots of water before meals, you won't eat as much. Well, that's because I'll be sitting in the bathroom all day! Seriously, I've tried this, and I just get hungry again sooner.

You must eat breakfast! It's the most important meal of the day! The sky will fall if you don't eat breakfast every, single, solitary fricken day! I hate this one. The only time of day that I'm usually not thinking too much about food, is when I first get up. Just give me my Coke Zero, and everything will be good. The truth is, my stomach is always growling for lunch within 2-3 hours-regardless of whether I've eaten breakfast, or not! Sometimes, eating breakfast makes me even more hungry! Oh sure, if I've eaten a big breakfast of carb and fat laden foods, then I'm fine, but that sort of defeats the purpose. I'd rather save those calories for later. So, get off my back you breakfast militants!

Search for an activity you like! There's something for everyone, and soon, you'll enjoy it so much that you'll look forward to doing it! This is great advice for a lot of people-particularly those with athletic ability, and plenty of money and time. Not so much for me. I've tried lots of things over the years. Some I can tolerate, so I do those until I get so sick of them I quit. I suppose it would help if I ever experience those "feel good endorphins" that the fitness police swear everyone gets after some good, sweaty, breathless, jiggly cardio.

Ok, I realize this is a pretty negative post, but dangit! I'm hungry!! You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry... Plus, pretending to be positive when I'm really not feeling it, makes me giddy with sarcasm, and we wouldn't want that to happen! What is your least favorite diet advice?

If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine-Issue 2

2010-09-24T19:03:00.000-04:00

I used to be a frequent parenting magazine reader. You know, back when I was still sort of new to the whole parenting thing. I'm by no means a parenting expert, but I've found the advice given in most of these mags to be pretty predictable. While some of the articles are helpful, and filled with reasonable suggestions, many of the tips given are either too idealistic, too time intensive for busy people, or are annoyingly "trendy." Just because something is cool or popular, doesn't necessarily make it a good idea.

Also, now that my kids are older, these magazines have little to no relevant info for me. How about a magazine that would give advice on how I can get my 10 year old to wear her pre-orthodontic-mouth-stretching-appliance-dealy that we are paying a bazillion dollars for? Or how to convince her to wear something other than t-shirts and shorts? Or something that would help me teach my organizational impaired 7 year old how to put things away in the right place? (and one for husbands, too) I've tried the brightly colored and labeled bins, and my daughter and I are the only ones who can actually grasp the complexities of how these devices function. (Perhaps its because we have uteruses...) Hey, how about a handy article on how I can convince Tot that cereal is tasty, and not a substance to be feared and avoided? We've had this issue for about 7 years. (Just us?) Every kid should have a love of Crunchberries, no?

Anywho, all of this curmudgenery (nice word, huh?) led me to create my first If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine, and now I think it's time for another! The gimmick is that I take actual headlines from a parenting magazine website, and give them the Imperfect Mom spin. Here we go.

The Right Way to Space Siblings (for you)
Well, when my kids are fighting, I send them to separate rooms. If we are out somewhere, say at a church without Sunday School, I will pick up the smallest one, with that "don't you dare embarrass me!" Mom look, and put them on my other side, away from the other offender (who is going to get an earful on the ride home, by the way). Oh wait, I guess they mean "space" in terms of when to give birth to them. Never mind.

How Can I Tell if My Baby is Teething if I Don't See Any Teeth
Is your baby drooling like a Biggest Loser contestant judging an episode of Cupcake Wars? Are you in danger of running out of your preschooler's Junior Tylenol because you've been taking it yourself ever since finishing the adult stuff in a futile effort to make the headache from all of the screaming and crying go away? Do you have dark circles under your eyes from staying up to the wee hours of the morning doing websearches for teething remedies? Have you ever sucked on a frozen washcloth just to see what it felt like and gotten it stuck to your tongue? Does your baby gnaw furiously on everything it finds-including the dog's misplaced Milk Bone? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then your baby may be teething. Or, it could just be, oh, you know, a normal baby. Break out the Infant Motrin. Orajel doesn't work-trust me.

Do You Know When You are Fertile?
If your ankles are swollen, you have a whole new view of your belly button, but can't see your feet, crave bacon with sour cream and sweet tea, and people in scrubs are urging you to "push" or to "breathe", then there is a strong possibility that you are fertile. Don't be shocked like Peggy Oleson in Mad Men if a baby is squeezing it's way out of your nether regions.

The Real Difference Between Boys and Girls
Girls come equipped with ROFS, "Random Object Finding Sonar" , while the male arrives with the uncanny ability to screen out any stimuli within eye view or ear shot when sleeping, watching football, or viewing A Few Good Men for the 876th time. Girls can actually pick up their dirty socks off the floor and put them in the hamper when asked, whereas a boy will spin around in a slow circle, saying "what sock?" until he becomes distracted by Sponge Bob on the television, or a Lego guy on the coffee table. Girls acquire the ability to roll their eyes sarcastically while still in the womb, and boys instinctually know that kissing Mommy's hand and saying "You're so pretty, Mama!" results in cookies and getting to stay up late. If you still don't understand the difference, then you may want to grab your significant other, a flashlight and a hand mirror...

Why Kids Lie
So they don't get in trouble. Next!

How to Handle Preschool Bullies
Smack them on the nose with a newspaper, give a Cesar-like "shhhht", and send them to their crate.

On that note, I think I've dispensed enough advice for one issue. If you'd like to play along, feel free! Just mention this post in your blog posting, and comment here with your URL.

Anonymous Shaving

2010-09-23T18:38:00.000-04:00

Hi, remember me? I blog here from time to time. I guess it's sort of been a while, huh? Sorry about that. Not much going on around here. At least not much with entertainment value, anyhow.

My kids are growing so fast. So fast, in fact, that my son will probably be shaving before I know it. Oh, wait-he already is. (Yes, he's still only 7.) Let me explain. Tot came down the stairs the other day after his bedtime shower. I knew something was up, when he started stuttering.

"Uh, uh, M-mom? I, uh, uh, s-saw Dad's razor in the shower, and I, uh, d-decided to shave. I, uh, ummmm....cut myself here, and got this," he said, pointing at the small, bloody cut on his chin, with his big blue eyes staring at the floor.

I noticed another cut on his forehead (I posted about this on Facebook, and one of my friends said "What does he think he is, Wolf Man?), and mustered up a serious expression all as I tried not to giggle.

"Hmmm. It probably wasn't a good idea to do that was it? I thought you were old enough now not to play with razors," I said in a calm, quiet voice.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You can shave when you are much older, but don't try it again until you're almost grown up and have something to shave," I said as I led him to the bathroom to clean him up and apply ointment to the cuts.

Later that night, as I tucked him in, I let him in on the fact that men actually don't need to shave their foreheads.

"Really?!"

I love that kid.

Switching gears, Amy and Mary Bailey both asked me why my family doesn't know that I blog. I figured I'd address it here, since I guess it is kind of strange that almost no one in my "real life" knows that I blog. My husband, sweet guy that he is, is a very private person. He doesn't feel the need to tell people (other than me, of course) things, and he wouldn't understand why I want to tell random things to people I don't really know. I guess when I spell it out like that, it does sound sort of strange, come to think of it... Also, I think he would constantly be asking "why did you write about that?" . Not that he would try to stop me, really, but I'd just rather keep it to myself than constantly be trying to explain, which would make me feel like I had to be on the defense all the time. Also, I like the anonymity that it provides. If I feel the need to write a story or vent about, say my mother or my grandmother, then I don't have to worry about hurting someone's feelings, or getting a writing critique (hello, Grandma!). Plus, I'd have to have the whole "What is a blog" conversation, which could prove exasperating, considering that my Mom can't even figure out how to open up an email attachment. You should have heard the MANY phone conversations where I tried to teach her how to use a mouse! You move the cursor thingie where you want it and click. Mom, you push the button on the mouse. No, don't hold it down, just push it and let go. No, the other button. I don't know what that button is for. Don't worry about it, you aren't going to blow up the computer by pressing the wrong button. No, really. Ok, now scroll down-spin the wheel thingie. No, the wheel on top of the mouse, spin it, slowly!

So anyhow, there ya go.

Trailer Park Gourmet

2010-09-11T23:18:00.000-04:00

We tend to like food in our family that is...ummm...less than classy. Basically, if it has cream of something soup, and/or Rotel, and/or chips of some kind, the recipe will be in my cookbook. Don't get me wrong-I enjoy lots of food, but our family favorites tend to be of the Trailer Park Gourmet variety. Comfort foods to the extreme! So, I'm going to start a new feature here at Imperfect Mom, where I share recipes (yeah, real ones unlike this one!) that we enjoy around here.

Disclaimer-I do not live in a trailer park, but I have nothing personal against them, or people who live in them. My Grandma lived in a trailer park for part of my childhood, and many happy days were spent hanging out with friends, exploring empty lots for treasures, and playing in the ~~drainage ditch~~ creek.

I don't have pictures, because my family doesn't know I blog, and it would be really hard to explain why I was taking pictures of soup cans and casseroles. Besides, sometimes the best food isn't always the prettiest.

This is what we had tonight-it's my husband's favorite. Seriously, I've made him his very own casserole dish of it before.

Chicken Tortilla Casserole (the name sounds much classier than it actually is, but it is really yummy!)

Ingredients:
2 cans of Cream of Mushroom Soup
1 can of Rotel tomatoes
1/4 cup of sour cream
1 package of precooked chicken strips
sliced mushrooms (I use about half a small can)
shredded cheddar
tortilla chips
(with these ingredients, how can this NOT be good?)

Preheat your oven to 325. If your oven needs to be cleaned as badly as mine does, open a window. Spray a big, old casserole dish with cooking spray. In a mixing bowl (if you can find one that the kids haven't carried off to the sandbox yet, or your husband hasn't fed the dog in), mix together the soup, the Rotel, the sour cream (I always add a little extra), the mushrooms (if you use fresh sliced mushrooms, saute them in some butter first), and the chicken. This works with either the frozen precooked chicken, or the refrigerated kind. I prefer the refrigerated kind, though, because I like to chop it into smaller pieces. I suppose you could cook your own chicken to use, but I can't understand why you would want to, because that kind of defeats the purpose of this being a quick, easy meal, but suit yourself.

Crush some tortilla chips onto the bottom of the dish to make a thin "crust". This might be good with Fritos, but wouldn't be nearly as chic. Layer the soup mixture, shredded cheese, and chips. I usually try to get 3 layers out of it, ending with a thin layer of chips.

Bake for 40 minutes, or until the chips on top have browned. Let it sit for a few minutes, then spoon out portions for yourself and the kids, and then hand your husband the casserole dish and the serving spoon. What? That's how it works around here!

Pairs well with cherry or grape Kool Aid, or Coke Zero served in the can. (Not served in the bathroom or in jail, unless that's how you roll, but in the actually aluminum can)

Nutritional Facts:
Servings: For us, 4. For sane people, probably 6-8.
Calories: 8,999,001 per serving
Fat Grams: 678,345
Sodium: 334, 563, 567, 001 grams
Vitamin C: eh...

The Imperfect Mom is not responsible for ruined diets, casserole induced high blood pressure, or tongues cut because you thought it would be a good idea to lick the lid of the mushroom soup can.

Those Aren't Bidets

2010-09-02T18:42:00.002-04:00

Several years ago, I don't even remember how long ago, I was shopping at JcPenney. Now, that in itself isn't remarkable-I've been there several times since then, but I always avoid the restrooms there. My husband and I were shopping, we may have had our daughter with us, I don't recall, but I needed to take a quick trip to the ladies room.

I quickly walked into the restroom, which was very quiet and peaceful. I went into the stall, and..well.. you know, took care of business. While I was there, I noticed how quiet it was-there were no little children asking their Moms if they needed to "go potty too", and no friends chatting about the bargains they had acquired. I could tell that I wasn't alone in the room, yet there were no sounds of "shopping busy-ness" like one usually hears in the ladies room of a department store.

Having taken care of business, I left the stall and went to the sinks to wash. This place was so clean, and white! I washed my hands with that institutional, pink soap with the distinct, "I just washed with institutional hand soap" smell, and reached into my purse for my lipstick.

This lipstick was awesome, by the way-I really need to look for some more. It was green "mood" lipstick that turned to the perfect shade of pinkish red on my lips. I know, it doesn't sound very classy, but this stuff was great!

Anyhow, as I puckered up and began to apply, I happened to catch a glimpse of something to my left in the reflection of the mirror. "Oh, crap! What are those things? Those aren't urinals, are they? Oh, no. But I looked at the sign on the door..." Cold, horror crept up my spine, up to my cheeks, where it burned like fire. My head began to buzz with that "This is wrong! Error! Error! Does not compute! Error!" warning sound. Deciding to play it cool, (maybe they were just bidets. Sure, bidets at Penney's, why not? Clean, rich people like sales, too!) I finished applying my lipstick, which turned to an unusually vibrant red.

Glancing in the mirror, I looked at the stalls behind me. I saw a pair of white tennis shoes under one door-those looked fairly unisex, a little dowdy for a woman, but you never know. I relaxed a tiny bit as I turned to leave. As I got halfway to the door, I heard a flush, and came face to face with a very surprised........middle aged.....man! I scurried out the door as fast as I could, feeling the man's eyes burning into my back as I left.

Horrified, shaking and blushing like a teenager at the Ob/Gyn for the first time, I hurried out to my husband and explained that we needed to leave. Now. Before I get thrown out and banned from Jc Penney's for life.
Since I'm never ready to leave a store before he is, I had to explain why I needed to leave. Of course he thought it was hilarious, and I still get teased about it to this day.

I now double and triple check the signs on restroom doors before entering, sometimes even going back out and looking again. I do still shop at Penney's, but my pace picks up considerably when I pass the restrooms, even though we now shop at another location. I still blush when I think about this, even years later (judging by the mood lipstick, it must've been in the nineties.)

But ladies, if you want to....relieve yourself...in a peaceful environment, choose the men's room. Just don't try to use the bidets.

This post has been part of Mama Kat's weekly Writer's Workshop. I couldn't get the button to work, so please click on this link to visit her blog and play along.

I'll Bring the Awkward or The Imperfect Mom Gets a Pedicure

2010-08-30T00:50:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

I've come to the realization that I can turn any possible situation awkward in a manner of seconds. Even something as normal and supposedly relaxing and enjoyable as a pedicure. Most women love pedicures as much as I love sleeping in on the weekends, but I'm not one of them. I also don't enjoy getting my hair done-I hate sitting still doing nothing, and I really hate the forced socialization. My beautician is very sweet, but I have a hard time making on going small talk with a 23 year old whom I have nothing in common with.

Anyhow-back to the subject at hand. (or should I say "foot"? Har, har!) I usually do my own pedicures-being a lover of all things flip flop, it's a necessary evil. Before today, I've had one other actual pedicure, in a salon, that is. I have what may be the world's most ticklish and sensitive feet, so I just remember alternatively cringing in pain, and trying not to laugh. Combine that with the fact that the manicurist didn't speak English, so we had to communicate with each other by smiling and pointing shyly.

Today I found myself all alone. All alone with some raggedy looking feet that I just couldn't bring myself to deal with. (Seriously, I think hooves may have been starting to form on the soles of my feet) So, I put on my big girl ~~panties~~ flip flops and headed to the nail shop.

I grabbed a Vogue magazine from the table, because it was the thickest magazine there, although I think Vogue is kind of snooty and boring (a combo which sends my inner snarky thoughts into overdrive). This was part of my strategy-I'd be entertained, and I'd also look engrossed in my magazine, so I wouldn't have to attempt to make small talk. Rude, I know, but I need all of the Awkward Management Tools I can get.

The awkwardness began when a kindly older gentleman showed me to my chair, and I couldn't quite figure out how to climb into it, or what I should do with my big, old purse in the process. The man, who apparently did more nodding, gesturing and smiling than speaking English, just stood by with a patient grin. Finally, I flung my purse up on the tall, throne-like beast, and climbed aboard clumsily, much like a little kid scrambling up on Santa's lap. (Have I ever mentioned that I'm short and unweildy?)

So, the nice fellow starts up the water bath below (ahhhhh!!!!) and.....and....THEN....my big, beastly chair starts punching me in the back with vicious force, and.....and.... squeezing my butt!! Wha??!! I don't remember this happening before! I'm actually not offended by the butt squeezes, surprisingly enough, but the jarring back massagers felt like I was being repeatedly poked by the steel end of a tire iron. I couldn't put my head back against the headrest, because every time I tried, the tire iron massagers would change position, and technique, pushing me off the seat back. Alarmed, I looked around at the other women nearby. They all seemed quite relaxed, heads back, reading books, chatting, or texting. None of them were squirming, or jerking around in their seats as the violent massage pulsated against their backs, as I was. I fiddled with the remote control, which only seemed to make it worse, as the technician came over.

I tried to look casual, flipping through my magazine, pretending to look really interested in fushia eyeshadows and spiked, 5 inch heeled open toed booties. (Booties!! A term I hate almost as much as "jeggings"! And open toed, booties?! Dumb, dumb, dumb.) The back beating moved from my lower back to my upper back, which actually felt tolerable, as the Korean tech greeted me, and gestured at my feet (with what looked like a smirk on her face), and said "You cut nails yourself?" I looked down at my toenails, which really, I didn't think looked too bad myself, and nodded.

As she began cutting my nails and trimming my cuticles, which thankfully didn't hurt (a feather touch, this lady had!), I wondered what could possibly be wrong with how I trimmed my nails. I mean, I think I do a pretty good job doing it, although it was obviously time for a trim. I was jarred out of my thoughtfulness, as the massaging, iron fists, now on my middle back, switched to "agitate mode". My body was jiggling like jello, and if I'd had on a pair of pasties with tassels.....well, let's just say I could have earned some tips of my own. You, know, if there had been any men there (besides the smiling older dude), and if I were thinner and younger, and all that. It would have been a good day to wear that heavy duty, underwire Cross My Heart Playtex number. As the agitation continued, my wet foot slipped out of the tech's hand, and she looked at me with a surprised glare, as the metal cuticle stick stabbed her palm. Oops.

"Sorry!", I whispered, contritely. Apparently satisfied with my apology, she went back to work, and the chair went back to the "Punch and Squeeze" mode. Working on my cuticles, I think I heard her say my toes were "nasty". But I'm not sure, since I could barley understand her-so I tried not to get too offended. Nasty? Yes, my feet were badly in need of a pedicure, but they were clean! Should I have done a pre-pedi treatment before coming? Nahhh....my feet couldn't be that bad, she must have said something else. Right?

Finally, she turned off the brutal beast, which stilled the water. Ahhhh, that's better. "I'm handling this pretty well so far", I thought to myself, "it hasn't hurt, or tickled hardly at all".

Then she started scrubbing my heels and soles with a scrubby pad. I really tried to play it cool by flipping through my Vogue again, past pictures of too-thin models with haughty expressions, wearing skin tight leggings and red-soled stilettos, as I tried to ignore the tickly feeling. I nearly peed my pants trying to suppress the urge to yank my foot out of her hand. Finally, my relexes took over, and my foot jerked forward, causing the tech to scrape her hand hard with the scrubby thingie. She looked at me again with the same, but slightly more annoyed, surprised glare. Oops.

"Sorry, I have very ticklish feet", I said with an apologetic half smile. By way forgiveness, she smiled, and tried to start up some small talk. The conversation quickly came to an awkward end, as I was having a heck of a time understanding her quiet accent. I always feel guilty when I can't understand someone, I don't know why, but I do. I feel bad.

She asked me something about nail polish, and I pointed to the bottle I had picked out. She asked me a few more questions after that, but I had no idea what she was asking, so I just nodded and said "yes" or "no" whenever I though it might be appropriate. I was really afraid that she was only going to paint my big toes for a while (Oh no! Is that what she was asking me? Is that a style?), but then she moved on to the others. (Oh, good. She's going to paint them all. Breathe.) I then started to worry that I was going to end up with some wacky nail art or something, but everything turned out well.

After she finished, I had to figure out how to climb out of the chair-mountain with my toes still in those squishy, spready thingies. I hobbled over to the dryer, and she started it up and took my payment. The dryer causes more awkwardness for me-I had my fingernails done once in this salon, and really, you get no direction once you get to the dryers. After watching other people, it seems like you stay as long as you want, and then get up and leave. Long bored with my magazine, after about five minutes, I was getting really antsy, so I bent over and gently peeled off the squishy things.

Appearing out of nowhere, the nail tech reappeared, flapping her arms and gently scolding, "No! No! You not dry! Do you need to go now? Stay for while, you not dry yet!"

Chagrined, I sat back down and put my feet back under the drying table. I waited another 5 minutes, then looked around, and........ snuck out. (Remember, I paid already!) Whew.

That wasn't so bad. On the Awkward But Sort of Necessary Scale, it ranked above getting my hair done and getting my teeth cleaned, but ranked slightly below going to the ob/gyn. I could do this again, you know, now that I know what to expect, and all. (I'll wear a super thick sweater to dull the punches) But, I think it's pretty safe to say that I won't be getting a Brazilian anytime soon, if I can barely handle the intimacy of a pedicure.

Love/Hate

2010-08-27T18:08:00.001-04:00

I love that rolled up jeans are back in style. I've been waiting anxiously for this since 1994. Short women of the world, rejoice!

I hate that "jeggings" has become a word. It completely irritates me, and I spend far too much time thinking about it. Yes! I really do think about these things. If you are unfamiliar with jeggings, they are the "sporks" of the pant world-leggings that look like jeans. Apparently, cheap looking polyester/lycra blends are chic again. I also hate that jeggings are being marketed to the kids who shop at the tweenie bopper store my daughter loves, AS WELL AS to women in their 30's, like me. I could have worn jeggings when I was 20, but 15-16 years, 2 children and 30 pounds later? Well, I suppose I COULD wear them if I had some waist to ankle Spanx, but really? I think they are tacky, and not even my spell check likes "Jeggings".

I love the smell of my husband's clean T-shirts.

I hate the smell of the dirty ones.

I love that our new dog walks so nicely by my side on a leash.

I hate when my children act like buffoons on the walk-tripping each other, trying to carry each other, laughingly trying to shove each other of the sidewalk, etc. Basically doing everything they can to annoy me and make the dog nervous.

I love that I found a pair of Justice sweatpants for my daughter at TJ Maxx today for $12.99! These are usually at least $30 in the stores.

I hate paying full price for cheaply made trendy junk at Justice.

I love that when the guy at Chick Fil A asked me if I needed a condiment today, I almost said, "No thank you. I'm Catholic." Even though I'm actually not Catholic, and he would have not gotten the joke anyway and would have thought I was crazy-kind of like you are doing right about now. It made sense inside my head...

I hate how cheery the people at Chick Fil A are in the mornings. Maybe it's just the ones around here, but honestly, they are just so over the top happy and friendly, and want to chat and smile at me and stuff. I can't deal with that kind of treatment until at least 11 am. Just say thank you, maybe wish me a nice day, and hand over the breakfast burrito and Large Coke Zero (no ice, please). It's kind of like when the dog is all happy to see me when I wake up, and he follows me back and forth throughout the house hopefully wagging his tail all morning. Really, it's sweet and all, but just go lay down somewhere and be happy from afar! I can't even muster up the civility to say "good morning" to anyone until I've been up for at least 30 minutes-it's not pretty.

I love that my daughter cares so much about animals, and has such a big heart for them.

I hate that she and the neighbor kids decided all on their own to walk down the street soliciting money from neighbors for the ASPCA without telling anyone. The made it through several houses before my husband found them. We made them return the money. It was hard to explain that even though your heart is in the right place, you can't just go soliciting money from people in the name of a charity-especially without telling your parents. They really did have every intention of giving the money to the ASPCA, but still... It reminds me of when she and a friend decided to ask the neighbors if they wanted their nails painted (for a nominal fee, of course)-I wrote about that here .

I love that my son is already pouring over a catalog of Halloween costumes. He can't decide whether to be a special forces guy, a Star Wars guy, Indiana Jones, or Mario. I always loved dressing up for Halloween, and I'm glad that my kids enjoy it, too.

I hate that Halloween decorations are already in the stores, however.

I love that it's Friday, even though my kids came home today with those dreaded fundraiser packets.

I hate trying to hawk those stupid $30 coupon books that nearly every other school child in the state is selling at the same time. I hate that I feel guilty for not wanting to spend $60 so each of my kids will have made at least one sale. I hate the thought of asking my cash strapped friends and relatives to buy these expenvie things no one really wants. I hate that they get the kids all hyped up with the "Fantastic!" prizes (listed on the info sheet in BIG letters, and eye catching fonts) they'll earn for ~~conning people into buying~~ selling these. Then they come home all excited, and I have to dash their hopes. $60 for coupons that I can never remember to use? Not a good deal. Why can't my kids sell Yankee Candles like the parochial school kids? I'd be ALL over that one! I've always thought about just writing a yearly check to the PTO and calling it good. Honestly, I pay my taxes, I volunteer in the classroom, I donate extra supplies for the classroom, I pay our book rental fees-so why can't I pass up this one dumb fundraiser without feeling like a deadbeat?

Yikes! My laptop battery is about drained, so even though I don't love to do it, I'm going to have to wrap this one up fast!

I hate that the power cord never gets put in the same place twice...

I Don't Wanna Do It!

2010-08-26T17:37:00.000-04:00

Have you ever felt change in the air? I don't mean how the (beautiful and hot) long summer days slowly get shorter and cooler, and you start to feel the "crispness" in the air as the days turn shorter and autumn sneaks up on you. (bleck!! pa-tooie!! Fall means the death of everything green and lovely!) I'm talking about life changes (not to be confused with "change of life", I'm only 35, kids!). I'm generally not a very "deep" person, at least I pretend not to be, so I usually don't get these "feelings", but I think that God has been trying to prepare my change resistant mind for something. I'm generally pretty dense and literal when it comes to "signs from God" and all that, so I usually have to be practically hit over the head with it before I notice what's going on. But I've felt it for a few weeks now....at first just hints, with a little restlessness inside, but now it's built up to a fever pitch in my head. My comfortable, familiar, secure little routine is going to change in some way, and I don't like it. At all.

Have I ever mentioned how resistant to change I am? While the undiagnosed mildly ADD part of me gets bored with routine, the shy, nervous, insecure part of me clings to familiarity like Linus clings to his security blanket. I remember crying for 2 hours as a 10 year old kid just because I found out that I was getting a new bus driver. Same school, same bus stop, same kids, just a different bus and driver. I'm obviously better than that now, but it still stresses me out.

What's changing? Well, I'm not sure entirely, but there have been some little changes around here. The kids have gone back to school, so that routine is different, and they are attending a different school this year due to redistricting. We are lucky to live in an area with great schools, so it has been a nearly seamless transition. The kids are happy and comfortable there. Their new teachers seem wonderful, and the school itself is very much like their old school, which we loved, so that's all good. Also, I'm actually enjoying the peace during the day while the kids are gone, so the whole "back to school" change has gone well for all of us.

Another change occurred on the first day of school-we adopted a dog. If you read my recent Doggone Guilt post, then you know how badly I did not want a dog, but how badly my daughter did. Well, I gave in to the Mommy Guilt, and we are now the owners of a big, furry, sweet mutt. He's a good dog, with none of the issues that our old dog had-he doesn't chew, doesn't pee in the house, he's perfectly happy laying around the house all day, and he doesn't even bark. Basically, he's a big cat. He's been taught some basic commands at some point, so he's well behaved, and walks on a leash like a dream. But, he's still one more thing to take care of, and it seems that the kids and I are a little allergic to him. Most frustrating for me, is that the cats, particularly my favorite cat (my baby!), is afraid of him, so he's been spending most of his time outside. This particular cat is a very social animal, and loves to be where ever we are, so it makes me sad. I feel guilty in a weird way, like we replaced him, or something. Ugh. Anyhow, we aren't giving away another animal, so we are stuck. (Don't get me wrong, the rest of the family is thrilled with him.)

Ok, I know, those are sort of "weenie changes", not a big deal at all, right? True, that. But there's more coming, I just know it. First of all, my hours at work have been cut even more. For those of you who don't know, I work part time as the Assistant Director of Education at a tutoring company franchise. Basically, I have a fancy title and my own office, but crappy pay with no benefits or anything. I like my job a lot, and I love the people I work with though, and I've been there for 7 years. This is our slow time of year, plus the business has been hit hard by the economy, so in order to make payroll, everyone who is not salary is getting hours cut dramatically. I'm down to 14 pathetic hours a week, which combined with my sad little wage, is not good. Things will pick up eventually, but this is no time to ask for a raise.

My husband talked me into applying for a teaching assistant position in our district. The pay and hours would be much better than what I have now, but I don't want to do it! I don't want to leave my current job, but I really would like to make more money, and it kind of "feels" like this might be the right thing for me right now. I have my teaching degree, but my certification is expired, and I'm just not ready to have my own classroom again. I want/need a job that I can leave at work at the end of the day, and teaching just isn't that way. I don't have the energy or desire to take on that kind of commitment at this point, so a teaching
assistant position might be my best option.

I don't know. My heart is screaming "No! Don't do it! Stay! Who cares if you make an insulting wage! You like what you do, you like having an office, business cards, and the ability to apply your college degree! You like working with friends! You like being able to get lunch from Chipotle and Panera like a grownup instead of having to ask permission to leave the building or eat in the cafeteria!"

But the bills are screaming "Pay me!" and the pretty fall clothes are calling "Hey you! Wouldn't you like to buy me?" And the tuition fees at the amazing, private Christian high school we'd like to be able to send our kids to someday are saying "Yeah, right! Do you think you'll ever be able to afford this?" So, it looks like some type of job change may be in order. Bah. I'm much too old to run to my Mom's house, and lay on the couch crying and screaming and kicking my feet like I did when I was ten, but that's kind of what I feel like doing... I know, I know...I'm a wimp. My issues are really no big deal in the grand scheme of life, but...but...but....I'm scared.

Anyhow, I'm sorry for the long winded, boring post, but I haven't posted in a while, and wanted to let you all know what's going on in my world. I'll be back tomorrow with something more fun!

7 and 10

2010-08-15T23:15:00.000-04:00

When you are a 10 year old girl, you can be running around outside in a fuzzy cheetah vest and a lion mask meant for 3 year olds one moment, and lamenting that you are too mature to wear the pretty ruffled dress to church the next.

When you are a 7 year old boy, you can actually "forget" to use toothpaste when you brush your teeth, even though you were just reminded to do so

When you are 10 or 7, you can get up from the supper table and dance around or wrestle with your sibling. Then, when being told you are behaving like a 2 year old, you can just giggle happily (after sitting down in order to avoid the Wrath of Mom, of course).

When you are 7 or 10, you believe that any parental question should be answered with a "meow", until a human answer is demanded.

When you are 7, you think that having a stomach ache entitles you to be able to lay on the back of the couch-cat style.

When you are a 10 year old girl, you can say that Tyler Lautner is your celebrity boyfriend in front of your parents without being too embarrassed.

When you are 7, it will ruin your entire evening if you can't find your Nintendo DS to take along on a trip to the store.

When you are 7 (or even 10) you tune your parents out when they tell you for the umpteenth time that when they were kids there weren't any Nintendo DS's, and they survived car trips just fine, by looking out the window. Then you think about how boring life must have been way back then.

When you are 10, you can sing off tune at the top of your lungs in front of a crowd, and believe that you sound amazing.

When you are 10 or 7, you are able to become invisible when sneaking huge spoonfuls of Nutella or peanut butter unknown times each day. The only evidence you were ever there is the gooey spoon stuck to the sink, and the empty jar (recently purchased), Mom finds in the pantry the next time she tries to make you a sandwich.

When you are 7, you can happily entertain yourself for hours with your Legos, action figures, or just about anything, if only your sister would quit trying to make you play school or act in her imaginary plays all the time.

When you are a 10 year old girl, if it's bright, has glitter, some type of animal print, and has colors that clash with each other-you think it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

When you are 7 and 10, you are caught somewhere between "big" and "little". Sometimes you want to act grown up and sophisticated, other times, you just want to crawl around and pretend to be a dog.

Back To School Shopping

2010-08-12T17:21:00.000-04:00

Image by arbyreed via Flickr

My kidlets return to school next week. I'll have a second grader, and a fourth grader. We all have mixed feelings about the start of school-I think they are a bit excited about returning to school and seeing some of their friends, but our neighborhood got redistricted (again), so they are going to a different school this year, so I think they are a little nervous, as well. (This will be the third elementary school my daughter has attended, thanks to our rapidly growing town!) I'm not looking forward to the school and fall activity routines to start up again, but it will be nice to have some time alone sometimes.

We finished our school supply shopping on Tuesday, with apparently, thousands of other people. Walmart was out of pencils. Pencils! Who runs out of pencils? I'm not sure, but I think you can probably even buy pencils at the Quick Stop. We had to run to Target to get our pencils and pink erasers, which Walmart also ran out of.

Yesterday was school clothes shopping day. They don't really need much right now, so they only got a few things a piece School clothes shopping was much more fun for me when my daughter took no interest in what she wore, and I got to dress her however I liked. At some point last year, however, she suddenly became picky about her wardrobe, and let's just say that the two of us have vastly different taste and ideas of how a 10 year old should dress. After looking at several stores, I'm left wondering why retailers think my daughter should be dressing like Who's That Girl era Madonna? Seriously, what's with all the black lace, raggedy looking plaid tunics, short skirts, and cone shaped bras? Ok, scratch that last part.

After showing my daughter several things, and her looking at me with a combination of pity and horror, I realized that I would need to change my strategy. I started looking for trendy items (her style-type of choice, apparently), that I could actually tolerate, even if I didn't love them. She'd point out something ~~hideously ugly~~ not quite right for her, and I'd quickly find a similar ~~but less hideous~~ item to ~~distract her~~ compromise with. Things got even better once I realized that every time I said something was "cute", that look of pity and horror came back again. But if I said something was "cool", she'd at least look interested in whatever garment I was holding up for her to see. Semantics are a big deal when you are a tween, I suppose. Honestly, I remember going through the same thing with my Mom. But Mom, I don't want to look "cute", I want to look "good"! I didn't understand her exasperation at the time, but I sure do now!

My son got a few things too, but honestly, shopping for boys isn't as much fun. There are only so many variables-t-shirts, polos, shorts and jeans can only be done in so many manly combinations. He really doesn't care much about new clothes, anyhow. He even said, "I've already got enough clothes. I don't need anymore." A statement I've never in my life uttered, despite the contents of my closet.

As the King of Random Conversation, Tot's purpose on the shopping trip was to keep us "entertained" with his constant chatter on the way to the mall. His chosen topics flowed (as usual) rather confusingly from Pokemon characters, to Lego guys, to iCarly, and on to motorcylces and Camaros-all punctuated with excited stuttering.

Honestly, I tuned out for a while, until I heard him say in all seriousness, "N-n-n-no offence to you Dad, and Mr. Fullen (our 89 year old neighbor,) and other old men, b-b-but..." I didn't hear the rest of what he said since we were all laughing so hard by that point.

Confused by our laughter, Tot turned his hands palm up and said, "W-w-what?! I said 'no offence'!"

He quickly moved on to talking about the Jonas Brothers. "M-m-my friend says they drive one of those cars, I think one of those Italian cars. Y-y-y-you know, a Linguine!" (cue more laughter)

"Do you mean a Limousine?", I asked. "No, it's a Linguine-it's Italian or French, or something like that."

"I think he means a 'Lamborghini'", my daughter piped up.

"That's what I said! A Lamborghini!", Tot replied with a giggle before moving on to Mario Brothers as a topic for conversation.

All in all, it was a pretty good afternoon. My daughter won't be going to school looking like an 80's MTV Vee-jay (not completely, anyhow), and my son has a couple of new shirts to spill ketchup on at lunch. Next time, though, we're shopping for me.

Happy Blogaversary to Me!

2010-08-08T20:16:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

One year ago today, I was bored. I had taken my kids school clothes shopping, and did something at the mall that only a goofy Mom could do. I felt the need to tell someone about it, so I started this blog to share my silly little stories of random things that happen around here, and to give myself something to do. Talking to myself wasn't very satisfying, so I didn't really do too much more blogging until January, when I really started to get down to business.

How does one celebrate a Blogaversary? With birthdays, you have cakes with candles (and chocolate cake ground into your carpet), presents, and if it's a kid's birthday, you may have to suffer through a trip to ~~hell~~ Chuck E Cheese. (Please don't make me go there-I'd rather clean the bathrooms!) With marriage anniversaries, there's a card, a bouquet of roses from Kroger, and a discussion about how nice it would be to go on a date together, if only you had a babysitter. (What? Just us?) With the anniversary of a job, you may get more vacation benefits, or even a raise. (At least that's what I hear-it certainly doesn't happen to me, though!) The 4th of July could be considered the anniversary of the US, and for that we have cookouts, fireworks, and parades. But this?

Mary Bailey suggested that I celebrate by giving all of my loyal readers Amazon giftcards, and I think that's a fabulous idea! You will be donating them, right Mary? ;-) If not, I could send you all a little token of appreciation-that is, if you would like a used dryer sheet, a sock missing it's mate, or whatever random Lego pieces or pocket change turn up in the wash. Ummm...maybe I'll just do a "best of" recap post instead.

The post that started it all occurred in August of 2009, along with a few others. In September, I blogged about having nothing to blog about. (Fun, right?) We'll just leave that one in the old archives..... October, November and December saw a complete lack of posting. I really got off to a booming start, didn't I? Things got fired up in January, finally, when I started posting more regularly. My favorite January post is probably this one , a sweet little story about my cute little guy. My first Disturbing Pictures My Son Draws post took place then, too. (The link can be found in the sidebar)

In February, something exciting happened! I wrote Confessions of a Library Loser , and people actually started visiting and commenting on my blog! (and some of them even came back after finding out what a terrible civic-citizen I am) In March, I wrote my first Is it Just Me, Or... post, and was very relieved to find out that, at least for a lot of things, it wasn't just me!

I actually have a lot of favorite posts from April, but probably that one that gives you a hint of the true chaos that is me, is this post where I dump my purse out and describe the contents. Sounds pretty lame, I admit, but I think it came out pretty entertaining. In May, I did Pictureless Wednesday, or Signs That a Little Boy Lives at Your House.

In June, I did If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine , which was so fun to write (and easy, because I'm good at spewing fake advice), that I'm planning on making it a series, or a meme. Last month, I wrote about my alter ego, or nemesis, depending on how you look at it, in Stories of a Perfect Mom . This one was fun to write as well, the pent up sarcasm and snark flowed through my fingertips with so much ease that I'm totally going to be writing more of these!

So, there you have it-a year (more or less) with the Imperfect Mom. Stick around for another year, as I continue to find my groove, in my own imperfect way. Thanks to all of my regular readers who keep me from talking to myself, and if you are new here, stick around! (That is, if you don't mind some sentimental posts, and lots of sarcasm and general goofiness!)

Now what am I going to do when I hit 100 posts?

PS-By the way, you've probably noticed that I have a new blog header and blog button. Keep in mind that this is my first attempt at customizing anything blog-wise, and I'm making it up as I go along. I don't really like the way the header doesn't blend with the template, so this will be a work in progress. If you'd like my button, you are welcome to use it!

Doggone Guilt

2010-08-07T17:05:00.001-04:00

I like dogs. I'm a dog liker. (not to be confused with a dog licker, LOL). Other people's dogs, that is. At least the ones who don't run off from home, the ones who don't jump on me and scratch me, and the ones who don't yap constantly. Oh, and only the smart dogs-I've known way too many stupid dogs in my time, and I have no patience for them. (Basset/beagle mixes, I'm talking to you!) I much prefer a laid back, friendly, cuddly, purring lap cat to a dog, most of the time. Cats are not dumb, either-they are moody, calculating and manipulative, and not easily distracted; these qualities prove their intelligence to me.

Anyhow, my children, particularly my daughter, love dogs, and want one badly. We tried owning a dog a couple of years ago, and it didn't go well for us. Scout was (and actually still is) a Border Collie mix, although we were told he was a Sheltie mix (yeah, I don't think so) when we adopted him from the shelter as a puppy. We kept Scout crated at night, and while we were gone, but when we were home, we kept him in the kitchen. He had a hard time realizing that carpet and grass were not the same thing, so it was...more sanitary...to keep him on the linoleum. Scout grew from a tiny little baby pup to a big, goofy puppy dog in a matter of weeks. Oddly enough, I was usually the only person who would hear his whimpers to go out at one in the morning, and also, strangely, I was usually the only one who noticed when he was out of dog food. Despite my studious watching of The Dog Whisperer, I could not get Scout to walk at my heel (he actually pulled me down and dragged me a few feet once-good times.), or stop chewing on things. We spent lots of money on Kong toys and rawhide, but he was still a chewer. He quickly destroyed two dining room chairs, multiple shoes, blankets and towels, three dog beds, several stuffed dog toys, and gnawed the molding around our kitchen door, and the underside of the kitchen cabinets. There were many other issues that kept Scout from being a good match for our family, so a year from the date we brought him home, we gave him away to a friend of mine. Scout is now the star pupil of his dog obedience class, and has two doggie brothers.

Apparently, giving the dog away to a friend traumatized my daughter. She seems to have forgotten that no one but me paid much attention to the dog when we had him, and still, two and half years later, cries over missing him late at night. (Yes, in fact I do feel like crap every time she cries over him, even though Scout is happy in his new home). This Mommy guilt has not caused me to consider getting another dog, however, despite the pleas of both of my children, and even my husband (the traitor). I've said many times that I'd rather have another baby than have a puppy, because if I'm going to put that much time, effort and work into something, then at least a child will grow up some day and be able to take care of me when I'm old. Not to mention the whole learning to use the toilet thing....

Little Bit has gotten much more sophisticated in her frequent dog pleas-she is now drawing up Dog Care Proposals, and writing Dog Owning Contracts. This is the latest, that she presented my husband with this morning. I hope you can read it...

If you can't read it, the title is Things I Will Do if I Can Have a Dog, and she has written a checklist of dog chores that she will take care of. My favorite part is towards the end, where she says, "buy it supplies (if I can afford it)" and "anything else that needs to be done for it (except I can't take it to the vet because I can't drive and can't afford it so you guys might have to do that)" Notice she uses lots of parenthesis in her writing like someone else we know? In order to make her case particularly airtight, she has included another document, nearly blank, where we are supposed to write in our own dog care demands for her to agree to.

Oh, boy. I so do not want another chewing, shedding, barking, pooping beast in my home, but it's hard being the lone standout when this is what I'm up against! Anyone know of a bread that is smart, laid back, smart, doesn't bark much, smart, doesn't chew things up, keep itself clean, doesn't need to be walked, and is smart? Oh wait, that would be a cat.

That's Sweet!

2010-08-05T17:23:00.000-04:00

Ok, ok, so I said that I'd post on Saturday, but I didn't. I can be such a loser like that. Anyhow, Saturday was busy, what with the whole Saturday-nowhere-to-be-sleeping-in thing, and then shopping and cleaning house for my daughter's tenth birthday party. Sunday afternoon was the actual party-just for family, no "friend parties" this year. I still can't believe that I have a 10 year old-that just seems so old to me! I'm sure in a few years, I'll be singing a different tune, looking back on when she was "little" and only 10. She had a nice party, and thanks to the generosity of our relatives, she now has more cash to spend than I do. The money is burning a hole in her pocket, but I am dreading taking her shopping to spend it. When it comes to her own money, the girl is seriously picky about what she buys. It will take her at least an hour of looking at the same 3 aisles of toys or video games before she decides that she needs to look at another store. Three stores later, she will be begging to go back to the original store, where it will be another hour before she buys the first thing she looked at. It's exhausting.

I really could use some retail therapy of my own lately-I've just had a lot of not fun to blog about here type thoughts rolling around in my head, and I don't know what to do with them all. Nothing bad, or earth shattering, just not entertaining, is all. I've thought about starting a separate blog for the more serious stuff, but it'd just be a lot of whining-I tend to get pretty melodramatic from time to time, and then I get embarrassed about it later.

August 8th, it will be my 1st blogiversary, although I really didn't get down to business until January or February. I'll try to come up with a fun post for that day-not sure what I'll do yet.... Any ideas?

Oh, and hey! A couple of weeks ago, Alisha, from Musings of a Manic Mama gave me the Sweet Blogger Award! I'm not sure if that's "Sweet" as in "Suuuhhhh-weeeett!!", or "Sweet" as in "Awwwww!", but either way, I'm excited to win another blog award! Where ese can I put forth minimal effort and be rewarded for it? That IS suuuhhh-weeettt, my friends!
Anyhow, thank you Alisha! Be sure and check out her blog-she's the lone source of estrogen in a houseful of boys, so you know she's got some stories to tell!

I'm going to pass this award on to a few blogs I've recently started reading. These ladies are my favorite kinds of Moms-moms who aren't afraid of keepin' it real, and that's sweet! (As in suh-weet, of course.)
Second Chance Moon
The Adventures of JAMC
Figments of a Mom

Since I'm being linky and all, check out this site if you haven't already-it makes me laugh a little every day. Catalog Living

WWCHD? (What would Claire Huxtable do?)

2010-07-30T16:23:00.000-04:00

The door from the garage opened abruptly, and slammed with a thud, as two pairs of kid-feet stomped into the house.

"I'm SO mad!" my daughter yelled, tears falling from her eyes, and she shook her fists in the air.

"Yeah, me too! They were being mean to us!", said Tot.

"What happened?" I asked as my husband, the ever-protective Daddy, stood up and looked out the front window.

"Calvin and his friends are outside, and they were spitting on our chalk drawings, and erasing them with their feet!", Little Bit replied in a loud, furious voice. Tears were still falling, and her skinny little body was shaking with anger.

"They said my horse drawing looked like a cow with a unicorn horn! They were laughing at us!"

"Yeah! They were making fun of us and wouldn't go away!", Tot chimed in.

My husband opened the door, and stalked outside to confront the group of 12 year old boys, still standing in the middle of the cul de sac laughing. Despite being skinny kids from the suburbs in their Little League jerseys, I'm sure to my husband they looked like a group of gangsters or a pack of wild, snarling dogs.

Calvin is a neighbor boy, who is usually very nice to Little Bit and Tot. I think my daughter has always had a small crush on this normally good natured and sensitive kid, and Tot looks up to him.

As their father was outside talking to the boys, I comforted my daughter as best I could, and then she and her brother went upstairs to watch tv, Little Bit still sobbing.

"I'd better come back inside before I say or do something I'll regret to those little punks!", my husband stormed angrily as he came back in the house.

"What did you do to them?!", I asked, worried now.

"Nothing. I just told them that they shouldn't be teasing kids younger than them, and that they'd better leave them alone."

"Well, that sounds ok. What did they say?"

"Nothing. They just ran off laughing as soon as I turned around. Those little punks. I'm going to get myself arrested if I go back out there!"

"Boys that age are like that, especially in groups. They have to try to be 'cool' with their friends around. I'm sure they'll leave them alone now." I tried to reassure my husband that Calvin, normally a very respectful kid around adults, probably took the scolding very seriously, despite his reaction with his friends.

"You know, every time I start to think he's a pretty good kid, something like this happens. I don't trust that boy." My husband's motto tends to be "Trust no one" where our children are concerned.

Let me stop here to clarify that the last time "something like this" happened with Calvin, he was in 1st grade, and my daughter was in Pre-K. They had been playmates for months, when Calvin saw us outside, getting in our car. He was in his driveway with a friend, and enthusiastically called "Hi, Little Bit!" (ok, he used her actual name in real life, but you know...), and waved.

His friend loudly remarked, "Oh, Calvin, is that your giiiirrrlll-friend?", in the sing-songy tone that generations of kids have instinctively adopted in times like these.

Mortified, Calvin no longer would wave across the street, and rarely played with Little Bit after that. Needless to say, her Daddy was incensed by his behavior. But you know? The kid was only 6 for Pete's sake. Who holds a grudge against a 6 year old boy?

Daddies of little girls do, apparently.

So, as my husband was cooling off, I heard my daughter tell her brother, "I'm still SO mad at those boys! I'd like to spit in their faces and stomp on them, just like they did with our pictures!"

"Don't do that!", Tot replied, clearly horrified. "You'll have to go to 'juvey'!"
How does my 7 year old son know about 'juvey'?

An hour or so later, after the kids had gone to bed, Little Bit came downstairs, still distraught and crying, but now more sad than angry.

"I can't stop thinking about what happened earlier. They hurt my feelings and made me so mad."

I felt helpless-times like these are when I wish I could channel a little Claire Huxtable or June Cleaver and say something helpful that will make it all better, but I must have skipped that part of the parenting handbook.
Clearly, my husband was feeling the same way. He looked at our 10 year old daughter with a mixture of helplessness and compassion, yet there was still a spark of anger in his eyes.

"Come here, honey", he said, and Little Bit curled up on the couch next to him with her Daddy's protective, loving arms around her. Her sobs slowly quieted, and her fists finally unclenched, as she relaxed.

Two days later, as I think back on that moment, I realize that some day, she's going to have her heart broken by a boy. She'll have disappointments, and people will do and say things that hurt her tender heart. We won't always be able to shield her from the hurt, and I won't have any half-hour sitcom type magic words that make the pain go away before the next commercial break. The mother in me wishes she could stay little and innocent, tucked away at home, sheltered from the hurts of the world, while the rational part of me knows that this is just all part of the growing process, and she will be fine.

My husband on the other hand (who is still stewing over the whole incident), is going to need some Xanax to make it through the growing years ahead.

By the way, last night I realized that I had forgotten to accept a blog award that I recently received! I don't know how I forgot-maybe it was the heat (our AC is humming along nicely now), or this little situation with the kids-but I am grateful for the award, and will post about it tomorrow!

I Had Two

2010-07-29T19:07:00.001-04:00

Does your extended family have certain running jokes? Things you've said for years, that instantly make everyone laugh? Mine does. Apparently, many years ago, there was a tv commercial, or something, where the catch phrase was "well, I had two when I came in!". As long as I can remember, this has been a running joke, particularly with my Grandma, who tends to keep Kleenex's (plural of Kleenex has me stumped-Kleenexes, Kleenex's, Kleenexi..) up her sleeve when she doesn't have pockets. (No, I don't really know why-she's in her 80's, so we just go along with it) From time to time, she will be digging up her sleeves, as far as she can go, in search of the Kleenex that she thinks is there. It looks pretty funny, so people are generally already laughing anyway, when my Betty White-like Grandma says "Well, I had two when I came in!" Of course this phrase is applied to many situations, generally ending in much hilarity. Like how my mother, who doesn't get around well recently decided to keep her cell phone in her bra, so in case she falls or something, it's right there. She likes to pull it out and show people-so this phrase gets used often in that situation, too. (Ok, my family is strange, I know.)

My Grandpa was born in 1902. Because of the way and time that he was raised, he was always exceedingly polite, particularly around ladies. He complemented every meal in great, flowery detail, even if he didn't eat much of it, and always, always, complemented everyone on what they were wearing, or how their hair looked, or whatever he could think of. He never swore around women, and if he happened to see some off-color graffiti, he would tell you to turn your head. All of the family's pets loved him, he would "secretly" feed them under the table, and acted like he loved them, too. Well, when Grandpa got Alzheimer's, many of the genteel manners started to slip away, revealing....well, Grandpa. During that time, he lived with my Aunt and Uncle, and their beloved dog, Einstein-a large, lab and golden retriever mix. Einstein and Grandpa had been good buddies before, but once Grandpa got sick, his true annoyance with animals came out. A couple of times, when he thought they were out of the room, my Uncle saw my Grandpa look at the dog, and mutter, under his breath, "Damn cat!"

Grandpa's been gone for several years now, but this phrase has become part of our family's repertoire. Now whenever someone trips over something, gets annoyed, or a pet does something silly/annoying/bad, someone (ok, usually it's me) usually says, "Damn cat!", and everyone breaks up. (To fully understand this, you have to know that my extended family is very conservative-no one generally swears).

Once, my Grandma, after wiping the tears of laughter out of her eyes with a Kleenex fished out of a sleeve said, "Oh, my. I'm scared to find out what you all will be joking about me when I'm gone."
Without missing a beat, everyone said "Well, I had two when I came in!" Cue, more laughter, even Grandma's.

So what are your family's inside jokes?

That's my Grandma in the picture.

Gone Missing

2010-07-25T23:34:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

I have officially lost my sense of humor for the time being. Our air conditioner went out Friday night. We're having a repairman come on Tuesday (that's payday, because we anticipate $$$ in repairs this time), but in the meantime, it's hot in here. Yesterday was the hottest day of the year, so yeah, that was fun. Our upstairs is approximately 900 degrees, so we've all been camping out downstairs with the fan on and windows open. Which basically means that the kids are thrilled at the "adventure" and my husband who's former Army training allows him to sleep anywhere and through anything, barely notices anything is different. Me, on the other hand? I'm lying awake, listening to the maddening screeching of 459 billion cicadas, 330 million crickets, and a couple of confused birds, as I try to find a comfortable and cool spot on the couch. Every noise out of the ordinary has me sitting up, wide eyed, wondering if I should ~~wake my husband up~~ get up and inspect. I slept better when I had infants. If it weren't for our financial situation at the moment, I'd totally be at a hotel. Yes, I guess I am a bit of a prima donna. I'll own it.

You know how the media are always saying that crime rises as the temperatures rise? I totally understand that now. My nerves are shot, we've all been grouchy and argumentative. If I were a perfect mom, I would turn this into some fun adventure, but bleh, I don't have the energy for that. Besides, I'd have to move out from in front of the fan. (Yes, I know I just used too many prepositions. It's what all the cool kids do.)

I know, I know. You're probably thinking to yourself, "The world's tiniest violin is playing just for you" or, my personal childhood favorite, "My heart bleeds purple Kool Aid just for you." But really, it's not just the broken AC, it's a combination of factors, kind of all piling up at once, as rotten things tend to do. Anyhow, once my sense of humor come back (I think it automatically shuts off once the indoor air temperature surpasses 79), I'll be back to my usual snarky self, but hopefully, much cooler.

Stories of a Perfect Mom?

2010-07-17T23:21:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

Today was just an ordinary Saturday around here. I woke up my darling little children up with breakfast in bed. Nothing special, just some homemade, organic whole wheat waffles with fresh, organic strawberries grown in our own lovely garden, and some fresh milk. You know, just a little something I threw together really quick, since we needed to hurry to go out and watch the sunrise. Of course, I took 543 quirkily off center pictures of the food, my children eating the food, my children with strawberries on their precious little faces, my children walking out side, and of my children watching the sunrise. I would have taken more, but my camera battery died. (I feel like SUCH a failure as a Mom! I may have missed documenting a few precious seconds of my quickly growing children's lives! Validate me please!)

Then, we went inside, where I quickly put in my spare camera battery. Whew. Then we tidied up the kitchen. The children love nothing more than washing dishes-such dears! You should see the lovely pictures I took of my little sugar boogers with soap suds on their rosy little cheeks! (I only took 32, though, and couldn't narrow it down to the 7 best pictures, so I didn't post any.) Of course, no one sloshed any water on the floor-they are such neat children-and since no one ever gets any crumbs on the floor, we didn't need to sweep the kitchen. We sang and whistled, and quoted lines from Snow White as we worked.

Afterwards, I taught my children how to knit, with the prettiest, cashmere yarn I found in a sale bin at the local fiber shoppe. Being such intelligent and dexterous children, they caught on very quickly, and soon had knit 4 sweaters (2 ply) for Christmas presents. Since all of our Christmas gifts are already purchased and wrapped for this year, we'll perhaps save them for next year.

Next, I dressed the sweeties in their most darling, color coordinated play clothes. I only spent $50 on each outfit, so it won't matter if they get them dirty. I quickly put together a picnic lunch of free range, roasted chicken, artisan cheese, and homemade bread. I added some homemade yogurt and fresh blueberries for dessert. (We'll swing by the apple orchard on our way to pick some apples to take along, too.) After squeezing a few lemons for lemonade, I packed it in some BDP free bottles, and loaded the wicker picnic hamper with the food, a red and white checked picnic blanket, and some mismatched, antique china that I keep on hand for picnics.

We headed to the local park, which is in an idyllic setting, nestled among some trees. The children didn't even complain as I took 95 pictures of them posing happily at the park, even though they could see other children playing on the playground equipment. The photo shoot only took 2 hours, though, so they still had abut 5 minutes to swing and slide before lunch. I believe that free, unscheduled time is SO important for children, don't you?

Next, my daughter had art lessons-she's in a competitive, Rembrandt-style painting group. She's so talented, her work is head and shoulders above the other children, but this is the highest group, so what do you do, you know? After that, my son had football practice. He's such a tough guy, my little cutie-pie! He's so enjoying tackle football this year, that he even tackles the other kids when they aren't even playing! It's so adorable. Some of the other parents though, could really stand to have a sense of humor.... It was our turn for snack, so I brought a lovely spinach salad along with some Kefir. Sadly, no one seemed to be hungry...

After concert piano lessons, competitive swim lessons and voice class, we headed home. I'm so glad that we were able to have a nice, relaxing day today! The children are working ahead in their math textbooks now, while I prepare dinner. My 7 year old is working on Calculus this year, you know! I don't really fell like cooking today (terrible, I know!) so we may just have something simple, like standing rib roast, or something. (I know, red meat is so bad, but my darling hubby likes it.) So, that's what's going on in our world. How about yours? I'm sure your day has been MUCH more productive and memorable than ours.

Just kidding, we didn't do any of that. I really had you going for a while, didn't I? Seriously, my son went to a birthday party, my daughter searched eBay (hey, it keeps her busy!) for a while, before running off to play with a neighbor kid, and I did laundry. I did, however, bend over and pick up that refrigerator magnet off the floor that we've all been stepping over for 2 days. I felt strangely accomplished after that....

Summer Days

2010-07-15T19:52:00.000-04:00

Today's post comes from the writing prompt at The One Minute Writer . If you are unfamiliar with this site-check it out the next time you are lacking inspiration for your own blog or writing. Each day, a new prompt is listed, and you are supposed to spend one minute, writing freely about that topic. Of course, me being me, it took me more than a minute just to write out this explanation, so you KNOW it's going to take me more than a minute once I finally get around to writing what I actually came here to write about.

Two "fun facts" for you about me if you haven't been here long: 1. I pretty much always ~~waste~~ spend at least a paragraph telling you all about what I'm going to be telling you before I actually tell you. Got that? It's the teacher in me, I guess. 2. I'm a rule bender. I don't break laws (unless you count speeding, which I totally pretend not to), and I believe that rules are a good thing, however, I bend them to suit my needs, and generally feel pretty justified in doing so. So now, the point of this post...~~because, remember? I told you there was going to be one...~~

I've always loved summer. Long, sunny warm days, that seem carefree, even though as an adult, I work on many of these days. Thinking of school starting in less than a month gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, even though it's not me that will be going back to school. I just love the laziness of summer-not having to get my kids up and rushed out the door in the morning, not having to make them do homework when I fell like they should be relaxing and playing outside after a busy day of learning...

As a little kid, I remember getting up in the morning, pulling on my hand-me-down, Incredible Hulk green Toughskins cut off shorts, a polyester striped shirt (hey, it was the late 70's, early 80's!), and flip flops (which we innocently called "thongs" back then), and heading outside to ride my Big Wheel. I loved my Big Wheel so much-I really do wish they made them for grown ups! Usually, I'd ride with Charlie, the little kid down the street. He was kind of mean, and younger than me, and peed on trees a lot, but he really liked me, and was afraid of my Mom, so it was all good. Plus, he was pretty much the only kid around to play with, most of the time.

Charlie and I would ride up and down the sidewalk, racing each other, purposely crashing into each other, and usually, pretending we were the Dukes of Hazard. Sometimes we were CHiPS, but only when Jeffrey, the CHiPs obsessed kid down the street joined in, but that wasn't often. (I still remember Jeffrey's CHiPS themed orange big wheel...) We'd take turns playing Bo or Luke, or Enos or Roscoe. Yeah, I'm a girl, but really, Daisy was no fun to play-she just wasn't very bright, and we knew that. One of us would chase the other down the street, ram in to the back of the other's Big Wheel, and then the person in front would flip over their vehicle, pretending to be "crashed." As I recall, the storyline didn't go much beyond the chasing and crashing, although occasionally, stolen "money", that was actually dried out grass clippings, was involved.

After tiring of this, we'd usually head to his house or mine for some Kool Aid, then run to the nearest swingset, where we'd play Kool Aid-mustached circus acrobats, airplane pilots or house, until Charlie did something mean and made me mad. I'd go inside for a while and pout, and then later, we'd meet up again-either Big Wheeling, or climbing the crab apple tree in my front yard. That tree was many things-sometimes it was the Duke's farm house, other times it was a house for our dolls (when I could talk him into it, and yes, when a boy's best friend is a little girl, chances are, he'll own at least one doll, no matter how masculine he is, or how many trees he pees on), or a Star Wars ship (when he could talk me into it). We spent lots of time jumping out of that tree, or swinging from a branch, trying to impress each other (unsucessfully) with our fancy tricks.

Although I don't really miss Charlie, or watching him pee in random places (what WAS that about , anyway?), I do kind of miss those carefree sunny days, when I could play all day, and not have to think about when my next bowl of Spaghetti-O's would be served. I could pedal along, hearing the pleasing sound of my Big Wheel "roaring" down the side walk, getting suntanned (no one worried about skin cancer back then), scraped up and mosquito bitten. Life was good, and this was kid-life at it's best!

The kids in the pictures are a (pre-Charlie era) 4 year old me, and my husband. Don't you love my knee socks, Mom-made outfit, and "don't mess with me and my cool hawg" scowl?

I'm a Facebook Curmudgeon

2010-07-11T12:32:00.000-04:00

Image via Wikipedia

Facebook is an odd "place". People I've known from various parts of my life, are all there together. Back when it was just a few friends I know from current, real life, pals from a parenting playgroup I've been posting on for 10 years now, and a few old friends from school, Facebook was fun. There were loads of games to play, silly memes to participate in, and so forth. But now? It's kind of overwhelming. I don't "friend" just anyone, either, but now I'm friends with cousins I barely know, if at all, people I "knew of", but didn't ever really "know" from school, church friends, parents and siblings of friends, friends of friends, etc. It's not that I don't want to keep up with most of these people in some way, but it's just sort of odd for me. Kind of like George Costanza's "my world's are colliding!"

Because of this, I find myself second guessing every status update I post. My audience is too varied now. I worry that either some people won't get the humor of what I post, or won't understand it, or will be offended by it in some way, or even that it will be more information than I want some people to know. I'm sure I'm overthinking it, but I do have some Facebook friends who could stand to do some "overthinking" of their own before they hit the old submit button.

One friend, an acquaintance from several years back, posts frequent, closeup pictures of himself/herself-at least once a day. This person either has a very healthy self esteem, or a very low self esteem, because he/she is often posting comments about how attractive, or special, or talented or fun they are, along with posts that detail every.single.thing. they do. Driving. Shopping (complete with dressing room pics). Drinking. Everything. All of their loyal followers always post back in agreement of how amazing this person is. Gag. Not that this person isn't attractive, talented and fun, because I think he/she probably is, but c'mon! Stop being so self absorbed! Says the blogger who writes about.....herself.... Oh, Pot? Kettle, is that you? Nah-I'm not like that.

Another friend is constantly posting things like "I love my beautiful wife", and "I'm the luckiest man in the world", or "My life is great". You know, I'm genuinely happy that he loves his wife and has a nice life. That's wonderful. I love my husband and I think my life is pretty swell, but I really don't think my Facebook friends want to be bombarded with constant, gushy sentiments. To me, it kind of smacks of "Envy me, my life is better than yours". Or, "Please tell me how sweet and/or positive I am-I need your constant validation of what a nice guy I am." Am I cynical, or what? An occasional post such as the above would be fine, but when this is the only type of post you can ever come up with? Keep a journal instead. Buy your wife a Hallmark card. Or start a blog, maybe...

Then there are the friends who are either fanatically involved in games like Farmville, Cafe World or Mafia Wars, or vehemenitly against ever seeing any mention whatsoever of these or any other games on their feeds. One friend has posted scathing, long status updates that she will not send anyone "gifts" for these games if they use cheat codes, and she "knows who you are!" A relative never posts anything but reminders about games, gift requests, or what not on her statuses. Really, I'd rather know how she's doing than the status of her fake farm. I play Farmville, and I have been in some Farmville addict phases, so I kind of get it. I pretty much just shrug and overlook these posts, but some people just can't seem to overlook them, and post their own, hate filled, "anti-Farmville/Cafe World" type stuff. Seriously, if you are getting that angry over a stupid game on a website that really doesn't even matter, then maybe it's time to step gently away from the computer and the evil, farming monsters will go away.. (Or, you know, if it's a laptop, put it down and scoot over, whatevs.)

One aquaintance has apparently developed some very bizarro beliefs in the paranormal world since I last saw them. I really don't care to hear about the ghosts living in your house, and I don't want to see the supposed photographic evidence of them, either. (Btw, it might be a good idea to stop watching Bravo and TLC late at night, too....) I don't need to hear about your psychic gifts, unless, you know, you see me about to win a million dollars, or something.

The soapbox rants are another thing I find annoying. It's great to stand up for what you believe in, but is Facebook really the place for this? I come to Facebook for fun, not to be drawn into a debate about politics, religion, etc. We all have our own beliefs, and it's ok to share them, but when it's done in an angry/offensive/intolerant way....not cool. (I'm talking to you, Uncle Stan.) Ever thought of starting a blog instead? Oddly, if the soapbox rant is funny or witty, then it's all good-those are fun. Even if I don't agree.

Why don't I delete these friends, you ask? Well, they're "friends"! I also don't want to hurt anyone's feelings. Facebook rejection is hard-people notice when their friend number decreases-it's happened to me. I wonder what I did wrong?

What are your Facebook pet peeves? You know, so I can try not to do them and get even more uptight about what I do and don't post there?

This post was inspired by Courtenay from Soup's post Negative Nelson: A Facebook Fable . I've also been having fun trying out Blogger's new Zemanta Assistant plug-in that helps find content related pictures and links-fun!

Are you disgusting?

2010-07-09T15:06:00.000-04:00

No, that's actually a rhetorical question, I wasn't commenting on you personally. Relax.

I walked into my coworker's office yesterday, to find her hunched over behind her desk, bare foot on a knee.
"Are you clipping your toenails? Here?!", I asked with a laugh.
"Well, yeah. One of them anyway. I am in MY office afterall!"
I found this particularly funny, since this coworker/friend hates feet-but obviously not her own.
"So can I clip mine in here, too?"
"No!!"

This began a discussion of habits that people have that others may find disgusting, or less than sanitary. (This is why I like my job-plus, it was more interesting than the work waiting on my desk for me...) My friend's husband clips his toenails in bed. Yes, the bed that they share. Ewww. No wonder she hates feet...

My own husband, back in our dating days, found it perfectly acceptable to hide dirty dishes under the sink when company came. He will now deny this, but it's true. He would forget about the dishes, and then once they were found, he'd THROW THEM AWAY. He's no longer allowed to do that, by the way.

My mother would often allow used Kleenex's to pile up in her purse. Whenever she would ask someone to get something out of her purse for her, we'd just bring her the purse instead. We teased her often with the Gump inspired, "Mom's purse is like a box of chocolates. When you reach in, you never know what you're going to get."

My Dad, the only early riser in his house, sees nothing wrong with sharing the breakfast table with the cat. Much to my mother's disgust, he allows the cat to sit on the table, next to his newspaper and breakfast bowl, because he likes the company.

None of these people consider their habits to be disgusting, but others do. I'd wager a guess that all of us have a least one habit that others may find.....less than pleasant. Maybe you are the person who I've seen picking their nose at a stoplight. Or maybe you have a habit of spitting on sidewalks. (Seriously, guys-what IS that about?) Perhaps you leave your sweaty, stinky socks over the register or (gasp!) lampshade to dry out. Whatever it is, I'll bet you have a nasty habit or two. If you disagree, ask your spouse or significant other-they'll think of a few for you, I guarantee it! So, find out what it is, and come back here and share in the comments! I'll choose the funniest or strangest gross habit, and give you and your blog a shout out in a future post.

Oh, wait. You probably want to here about MY gross habit, right? Well, I don't personally find this gross, maybe "quirky" or a "cutely messy", but my coworker thought it was yucky. (She also nearly peed her pants laughing at me, so at least I've got that going for me.) When I eat popcorn (natural, NO butter or greasy stuff, only salt), and the carpet needs to be vacuumed anyhow, I ~~usually~~ sometimes flick the flaky popcorn hulls onto the floor so they don't get stuck in my teeth (because THAT is gross, yo). See, that's not so bad, is it? After all, it's going to be swept up soon~~er or later~~, just like the toenail clippings on her office floor. Only popcorn hulls aren't body parts, so it's actually waaaaayyy better. Right?

Didja miss me? ;-)

2010-07-08T15:06:00.000-04:00

Hi everyone! Just wanted to let you know that I am, in fact, still alive. Vacation went well. We drove to Charleston, South Carolina, which is a good 12-13 hours from us. My kids handled the drive very well, much better in fact, than I did. Vacation was nice-it was hot and muggy, but I'm surprisingly ok with hot and muggy. We had a nice time walking on beaches and piers, touring the city, eating good food, riding boats, etc. I've decided that I could live a happy life eating nothing but barbecue pork, sweet potato souffle, buttery grits with bacon, and other such heavenly southern delicacies washed down with unhealthy amount of sweet tea-except I would probably weigh 400 pounds. I miss the ocean already....

We got home just in time for the Fourth of July. At the last minute, we ran out and bought some fireworks, and had my parents and nephew over for dinner. The kids enjoyed the fireworks, as usual, and we were all eaten up by mosquitoes-especially me. Blood sucking beasts love me, my blood must be deeeee-licious. I'm sure that vampires aren't actually real, but I've taken to wearing garlic and crucifix around my neck every day, just in case.

While I was gone, my blogging buddies Monica from Organized Chaos , AND Courtenay from Soup BOTH re-awarded me the Versatile Blogger award! I had no idea I was so versatile! Dorky, yes. Shy, yes. Lazy, ummm...sort of. Afraid of crickets in the house, yes. (They JUMP!) But now I get to add versatile to the list! (I think I'll change my hair color again and buy a new style of flipflops to celebrate this new found versatility!) Thanks ladies! Be sure and check out their blogs. Monica is full of creative ideas, and Courtenay writes a great blog about her family's life in the country. These ladies are both REAL moms, who I'd love to hang out with if I could.

That's all I've got for now-I'll be back tomorrow or maybe even tonight with something fun.

Oh, hi!

2010-06-25T00:32:00.000-04:00

So, it's Thursday, and you've yet to see a post from me. Well, technically, you are seeing one now, but it's probably Friday. I'm such a creature of habit-I don't really have a specific topic in mind, and I'm too tired to come up with one, but it's killing me to not have a Thursday post!

Whew-it's been a busy week! My daughter's softball tournament was this week, which went well, then got rained out, then went well, then went badly, but still kind of good, and then turned out reeaaaaallllyyyy bad. Sorry, I know that makes no sense. Did I mention I was tired? We are also preparing for vacation, which means I'm constantly doing laundry in order to pack, and then ~~yelling at~~ calmly and rationally chiding my family for wearing the stuff, so that I have to wash it AGAIN. Actually, the kids knew better, my husband gave them clothing out of the "to pack" stack to put on today. Argh. Don't screw with my organization.

Packing for 3 people is a daunting task, but one that my control issues won't allow me to give over to my kids or husband. Actually, I may be packing for my husband, as well. On a trip a couple of years ago, we reached our destination before he realized that he "forgot" to pack his clothes. Conveniently for him, there were lots of nice outlet malls nearby, so he bought all new clothes. If I pulled that, with my luck, there'd be nothing but a Dollar General or a farm supply store within 50 miles to shop at. Which means that I'd be wearing tube tops, overalls, cheap flip flops and a John Deere hat everywhere. Another time, he forgot all of his socks and underwear, so our first order of vacation business was undies shopping at Walmart. Yeah, I think I'll pack for him-I already tell him what he likes to eat when we go to restaurants, and remind him to take his medicine, so, why not?

We're going on a 13 hour road trip, and I'm halfway wishing I could send them along without me. Did I just admit that out loud? Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and kids, I really, really do. Pinky swear. I could wax poetic about how much, or write some nauseating, public love letters, or post some softly lit, artsy fartsy pictures of us frolicking around a field in coordinating clothing with goofy smiles in order to prove it, but...yeah. I don't do that crap here, so you'll just have to take my word for it. Your welcome. It's just the whole, cooped up in either a minivan or a small hotel room together for 7 days thing that concerns me. Once we are there, I'm sure it'll be good-it's just the getting there that mostly concerns me. Vacations (at least the preparation and travel parts) stress me out-anyone know what I mean? I always get stressed and grouchy before a trip, and then we have a wonderful time, after all (except for that one horrible trip to Chicago which I may share someday).

Anyhow, it's not storming here for once! We've had storms nearly everyday for the past several weeks-bad ones, too. My poor son is both fascinated and terrified of storms. His little eyes get huge when he sees storm warnings scrolling along the bottom of the tv screen, and he flinches and cries out when he hears thunder. He worries that every lightning strike will hit us, and that every tornado watch will send a tornado right to our house. During the second storm that forced us to run off the softball field and to our cars last week, Tot kept telling me through clenched teeth, "Mom, I NEED to see a radar. I won't freak out, Mom, but I NEED to see it." I have a weather radar ap on my phone, and he knows more about what all the radar colors mean than any 7 year old should. Poor kid, we try to convince him that he is safe, and everything is ok, but he is such a worrier. My husband was teaching the kids how to read the maps for our vacation route in mini-atlases in great detail, and before my eyes glazed over, I heard my son ask whether there would be a Tsunami there. (Trust me, if we can drive there from Indiana in a day, there can't be a tsunami there.) Any tips for helping Tot not be so afraid?

Well, that's all I've got for tonight. My posting may be a bit more sporadic than usual for a while, but I'll be back!

Five Question Friday

2010-06-18T15:25:00.002-04:00

Today I've decided to participate in Mama M's Five Question Friday. Why, you ask? Why not? I like Fridays, and five is a great number-just enough, but not so many that you get bored, right? (Hopefully.) Also, questions are good, too-unless it is one of my kids asking me to repeat myself for the zillionth time. Seriously, everything I say lately (whether I'm talking to them, or not) is met with a "huh?". Annoying. Anyway-I have a few questions for you, in this post from yesterday. Check it out if you haven't already, and give me some ~~blogging ideas~~ feedback.

Ok, back on track. I do love me a tangent. Click on the button below to visit Mama M's blog and to find more Five Question Friday responses.

1. What is your favorite thing about summertime?
What isn't?! I love summer! The warmth, the sunshine, the flipflops, the relaxed pace that life takes on-it's all good! It's nice having the kids home from school, although I do miss having time alone. It's great not having to worry about them getting piles of homework done, or going to bed early for school. Softball and baseball season is almost over, so it will be even better soon!

2. What is your ideal retirement location (if money didn't matter)?
We would probably live the cliche and move to Florida, at least for winter and spring. We love Florida. Winters in Indiana? Not so much. Most likely, though, we will probably live wherever our children end up-you know, so we can hang around and pester them all the time, ala Frank and Barbara on Everyone Loves Raymond.

3. Do you live in the same town you grew up in?
Same county, but one town over.

4. What nervous habit did you have as a child that you kicked to the curb before becoming an adult?
I had loads of nervous habits as a kid, and I'm not sure I've grown out of any of them yet! I was afraid of everything, I was timid, and I was a major worrywart. I suppose I don't worry as much as I used to, and I force myself out of my shell more now, and I actually sleep with my bedroom light out now. Imagine that. Of course, I've manage to replace those nervous habits with all new ones....

5. What is the most embarrassing thing that happened to you while on the job?
The only ones that come to mind are goofy wardrobe malfunctions, because I'm smooth like that. One day when I taught Kindergarten, I was wearing corduroy Winnie the Pooh overalls. (No, wait-believe it or not, that's NOT the embarrassing part-it was, like 1999, and that stuff was in style! Seriously! Sort of.) I had to teach a lesson that was part of a very restrictive, scripted curriculum that was timed. (Because they assumed that teachers were brainless, untrained circus monkeys instead of educated professionals, I guess.) If I didn't start and stop at exactly the right minute, I could get in trouble-no exaggeration. (Don't get me started on how much I hated that developmentally inappropriate, educationally unsound crap....) I was being observed by someone from central office, so I was nervously going through the lesson, praying that no one would take the opportunity to puke or pee their pants (that seems to happen a lot in Kindy) and throw off my timing. I was moving along well, when the button for my overall strap flew off. The kids giggled as I caught the button in midair, glared at the kids until they stopped laughing, and continued on, all without missing a beat. I was newly pregnant at that time, and fairly emotional, so I was trying to hold in tears as I finished the lesson. The administrator told me later how impressed she was that I was able to remain control of the class and my outfit, and just keep going.

Another day, at my current job (I'm an Assistant Director of Education for a tutoring company-fancy title that basically means I do whatever needs to be done and they don't have to pay me very much), I was training a brand new teacher. She was very quiet, and hard to engage in any type of casual conversation, but I noticed she had a slight smirk on her face as she followed me to another room to do some training on the computer. I just figured she must be nervous-new job, and all, so I walked back to my desk after getting her set up. When I got there, I happened to look at my chair-there was a big, smooshed in lump of bright pinkish-red lipstick that had fallen out of the tube the last time I had reapplied. Horrified (and amused, actually), I turned around and looked at the seat of my light khaki pants. Yep. That's why she was smirking. I walked into my boss' office, turned around and said "Does this lipstick make my butt look big?" Oh yes, I did. We spent the next 20 minutes or so giggling, making bad lipstick/butt/butt kissing jokes, and Googling how to remove lipstick from pants. Ah. Good times.

So there we go. (Heck of a conclusion, huh? Sorry, that's all I got.)

The Imperfect Mom Needs You!

2010-06-17T19:19:00.000-04:00

I need ~~blog fodder~~ your help! Do you have questions to ask me, or certain topics you'd like to see me blog about? Do you have a parenting/housekeeping/family/social dilema or question that you'd like to have a sarcastic answer to? Who wouldn't, right? Is there a particular type of post that I've done, that you'd like to see more of? Just let me know in the comments, and I'll see what I can do!

Sorry for the short post today. I'l try to come up with something entertaining for tomorrow!

If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine

2010-06-11T20:41:00.000-04:00

Do you read those parenting magazines? You know, like Parents, or Parenting, or the uber snobby/trendy, but ill-fated, Cookie? I used to, but now that my kids are school age, and not babies, toddlers, or preschoolers, nothing in those magazines seem to apply to me anymore. There doesn't seem to be a magazine for my parenting demographic-I wonder why that is? Occasionally, I'll wistfully look at the headlines of a Parents. Sometimes they make me roll my eyes with an "Oh, please. Who does that?" thought. Maybe that's why there aren't many periodical choices for Moms like me-by now, we've read all the advice, and we've realized that half of it doesn't work, half of it requires too much work, and yet another half (it's my blog, I can have three halves if I want to!) is the same old advice we've read or heard a million times before.

So, just for kicks, I've decided to do a little magazine writing, the Imperfect Mom way. All of the headlines I'm going to respond to are actual headlines that I just found on parenting magazine websites. The rest is aaaaaaaalllllllllllllllllll me. You're welcome.

8 Power Snacks They'll Love
Hmmmm. Power and Snacks "Power" must require sugar and carbs, right? Give my son a Mountain Dew, and he can "power" on for hours! But Mountain Dew isn't a snack-unless...... we freeze them! Mountain Dew Popsicles! I've just thought of my first recipe for the food section of my imaginary magazine! Ok, I don't actually give my kids Mountain Dew ~~often~~. But my husband does. Power Snacks-my kids like Cap'n Crunch (well, except for Tot who has cerealophobia), chocolate graham crackers, Dip'n Dots ice cream, carrots with ranch dip (but those don't "power" them up), and a bunch of other stuff. I'm tired of this already. They also really like fruit, yogurt, string cheese, and organic fruit snacks, but those just aren't funny to write about.

Breathe Easy With Cabin Air Filers
Ok, this one may actually have been an ad, but I'm going with it. These are air filters. For your car. Aren't cars supposed to smell like stale McDonald's french fries, mildewy chlorine from that pool towel that got left in the back, and old farts? Or is it just mine? How are we supposed to pass on time honored traditions, like the "smeller's the feller" phrase, and the fun game "find the water bottle/sippie cup with the sour milk in it" ? If you have kids, especially small ones, you really need to be able to smell what's in your car. "Who pooped their pants? Oh, that was just Daddy farting." Maybe a filter wouldn't be half bad, afterall....

When Public Tantrums Strike
Ugh. I don't miss these. Tantrums in public-run and and hide, or become invisible. Take the ~~obnoxious little brat~~ poor, tired, overstimulated darling out to the car as fast as your legs can carry you, him/her, your 10 pound purse, diaper bag, and other child(ren). Vow in embarrassment never to return to that store again, at least not until you've had the chance to cut and die your hair, find some large sunglasses that you can see through indoors, and grow (or shrink) 4 inches. Cry all the way home, while your child (now probably happy as a lark because they got to leave the store, which is what they wanted anyway), sings along with the radio or talks to their reflection in the window. When you get home, hand the offending child(ren) off to your husband, go to your bedroom, slam the door, and call your Mom or best friend to complain about how you never get to finish your shopping or go anywhere alone. Ever.

Fun Indoor Activities
Need rainy day activities? Here you go. Super Mario Galaxy for Wii-keeps my kids busy for hours, and gives me plenty of time to blog, gripe about all the dirty laundry, and Facebook. Oh, wait! Is that supposed to be stuff you actually do with your kids? Oh, ok then. Pay your son fifty cents to sweep the kitchen floor. Briefly show him how, then send him off on his own. Pay him in dimes, and since there will be 5 coins, he'll think he's getting a lot of money. Bribe your more sophisticated older child with extra Wii time to vacuum. Hand your children dust rags, pre-sprayed with Pledge, and tell them they can have a contest to see who can dust the most furniture while you "supervise". My kids still actually fall for this one. Have another child no more than 2 and a half years older than your last child, so that they always have a ~~partner in crime~~ playmate. It worked for me-my two keep each other entertained pretty well.

Get Your Groovy On-How to Tie Dye with Kids
Oh, my. That's a frightening thought, if there ever was one. When I was much younger and more patient, I tried tie dyeing with kids as a summer camp counsellor. Dis. As. Ter. Really-everyone's tennis shoes ended up multicolored from the drips, and the shirts just turned out a nasty brown from the colors being mixed. Just save yourself some time, and damage to clothing, shoes, carpet and furniture and go to WalMart and buy a tie dye shirt. Let the kid draw on it with a Sharpie, if you want to be "creative". Just do it outside, in old clothes. When we're in an artsy mood, I have a box of miscellaneous craft supplies and paper, and every once in a while, I drag it out and let them create to their heart's content. I'm big on the non-directed art project stuff. Just not the mess it makes.

Fun Ways to Get Your Kids to Exercise
Fun for me? Or them? "Run upstairs and get my shoes, please." "Oh, those are the wrong ones. Get my others, please." "Thank you, now run up and put these away for me." "Oh, wait! I think I need those afterall-bring them back down." Heh-heh. Seriously, my kids have a swingset, and bicycles, scooters, and friends to run around with. I just send them outside, and they get plenty of exercise on their own. Fresh air and unstructured free time-I think kids need more of it.

shirt from Cafe Press
Healthy Pregnancy Diet
For my first child, I ate fried chicken and strawberry pop tarts and drank lots of sweet tea and 2% milk. I was living in the South, where sweet tea and fried chicken were plentiful and teaching Kindergarten where milk and Pop Tarts (the generic school cafeteria ones) were plentiful. With my son, I ate cripsy bacon, sour cream, and mayonnaise. Together and separately. I highly recommend it. Wait....does that say "healthy"? Never mind.

So, there we go. I don't think I will be pursued by Conde Nast any time soon to write my own parenting magazine, but that's ok, since i have this blog to ~~spew~~ pass on my ~~random, snarky thoughts~~ parenting advice!

Thursday 13

2010-06-10T19:33:00.000-04:00

1. It's been a stressful few days here. My Mom had surgery yesterday, and she's doing well now. She has a lot of health issues, and almost died the last time she had surgery, so we were all very worried this time around. I'm so relieved and emotionally spent.

2. I went to pick up lunch for work today at Five Guys. The dude in front of me was wearing a skirt and carrying a "man bag." Yup. Actually, it was a black kilt, but he sure didn't sound Scottish. Now, if men wearing skirts is normal in your area, or if you or a male loved one is a kilt/skirt wearer, then forgive my snark, but male skirt wearing is not typical here in the midwest. (Unless said skirt wearer is playing bag pipes, then we think it's sort of awesome.) My Facebook friends think I should have taken a picture, but really? Hairy, middle aged man in a skirt? You don't want to see that. Trust me, I know what's best for you.

3. Skirt guy had 2 teenage girls with him. Now, when I was a kid, I thought my parents did embarrassing things. Can you imagine?! Daa-aaaaaddd! Please don't wear your skirt to Five Guys! I will so die.

4. The worst part of the Skirt Guy Sighting? I didn't have a friend there to exchange amused looks with. Some things are just more fun with a friend along.

5. We are planning a vacation here soon. It will require a 13 hour drive, and I'm so not a road trip kind of person. I'm not even looking forward to going, because of the mind numbing boredom of the drive.

6. It will be fun once we are there, but I will be dreading the trip back the whole time. I wish we had a transporter beam.

7. I introduced my kids to their first Weird Al tune this week. "Eat It." They loved it, and my husband thought it was ~~scary~~ awesome that I knew all the words. Have a banana, have the whole bunch, it doesn't matter what you had for lunch, just eat it, eat it, eat it....

8. I don't think I'll make it to 13.

9. If I do, I don't think you'll still be awake.

10. I was working with a kid at work who was filling out a questionnaire. He asked me how to spell "chihuahua", then needed to know how to spell the dog's name, Poppy. I didn't know if he meant "Poppy" or "Pappy" or some other variation of Grandpa, so I asked him, "Poppy like the flower?" He looked at me like I was totally nuts, and said "No! Poppy like the dog!" Oh, of course, THAT Poppy!

11. Most cats like to sit inside and look out the window. My cat likes to sit outside and look inside the window. Does that make him a Peeping Tom?

12. For more Thursday 13 posts, click here .

13. This video is fairly awesome-I laughed out loud. Not the fake, LOL-I'm-laughing-on-the-inside, but for real. I hope this works....

My Second Grade Lovelife

2010-06-05T13:03:00.000-04:00

Second grade was a good year for me, boyfriend-wise. In fact, I had the admiration of more males at the ages of 7 and 8, than I did for the whole rest of my school career. While the rest of my elementary school, junior high, and heck, even high school years were filled with 99% unrequited crushes, I had the boys swarming around me back in Mrs. Alverson's class at South Elementary School.

As a very shy little girl, I no longer cried everyday to go home, like I did in first grade. I was a little more confident socially, although I was the youngest in the class, and most kids treated me as if I were a younger sibling. Our teacher was an older lady (or at least, she seemed that way at the time, because I think she's still teaching almost thirtCOUGH*COUGH years later), and she either overlooked a lot of things that went on in the class, or had a high tolerance level.

Many of us would draw or color pictures in our spare time, and then sell them to each other for pennies, nickels, or, if you were a really good artist, quarters. We would advertise our art sales during work time, with handwritten signs, written on notebook paper, scrap paper, or manila drawing paper. We'd hold the signs high up in the air, and wait for our classmates to come to our sales. Looking back, I can't believe our teacher let us do this, although I do remember the day when an aid stepped in to watch our class, and put a stop to our booming art careers.

My friend Chip would write me love notes, usually asking me to meet him at the Ramada Inn (for dinner, people!), with the ubiquitous check yes or no boxes. Nearly every day, he or Steven, his 8 year old nemesis, would write me a love note of some sort, which I would take home and put in a pink and white gingham, heart shaped valentine candy box that my Grandma had given me. I wish I had kept those notes, but they are long gone.

Chip, Steven and I would spend our recesses playing Dallas. The television show. I'm really not sure why any of us, especially me, were allowed to watch Dallas, but we did-things were different back then. This one particular jungle gym, which I can still picture, was our Southfork Ranch. I was Sue Ellen Ewing, and Chip and Steven fought constantly over who would be JR and Bobby. Naturally, the "who shot JR" theme was played out many times over. Occasionally, other kids would join in to play the parts of Miss Ellie, Jaques, and whatever Bobby's wife's name was.

Another boy, Shannon, slipped me a ring during reading group one day. I believe the ring came with a marriage proposal. You know, because everyone gets engaged in second grade, right? Looking back, Shannon probably swiped the ring from a sister or his mother. But I never gave it back. It was a real silver spoon ring. (As in, made out of an actual silver spoon-if you aren't old enough to remember these, then you are probably really confused right now.) I wonder whatever happened to that ring? It might be worth something!

I apparently really had it going on back then, because there were two other fellows who sought out my attention that year. There was Frank, who used to try to convince me to kiss him. He told me that he'd hold up his red Reading folder so no one would see us. Sorry Frank. However, I did kiss another boy, behind the shed in my backyard. Obviously, it was just an innocent quick peck, but word got around school that I kissed this boy, and well....let's just say that was a bad social decision for me to make at that time. Or any time. That bad decision followed me to fifth grade, where the whole story got brought up again, causing me, and perhaps him, great humiliation and stress. Fifth graders can be such cruel little snots. I'm ~~still not~~ over it, though.

Where are all these fine Casanovas now? Well, one of them is serving life in prison, one of them lives in another city with his boyfriend (I tend to have that effect on the fellas), and the others? Who knows. One is probably either a lawyer, or sitting on his butt playing video games in his Mom's basement (it's a toss-up, really), and the other two, I don't recall seeing since elementary school.

I didn't have any boyfriends in junior high, I never attended a Homecoming dance, and I only went to one of my Proms. I was pretty much off the radar of the boys in my class at that time. Most Friday and Saturday nights were spent at home, or with my boyfriend-less friends. Too bad they didn't have a Homecoming dance in second grade, because I would have owned it!

Lost and Found or One Wedding, Two Wedding Rings

2010-06-03T19:24:00.002-04:00

If diamonds are a girl's best friend, then I suppose that you could say that I have misplaced my best friend. More specifically, my wedding ring. I have mentioned the fact that I am the owner of two wedding rings here before, and thanks to Mama Kat's great prompts for Writer's Workshop, I finally have a good excuse to explain why. Click the button below to go to Mama Kat's blog to view all the prompts, and to read other blog posts!

My husband and I have been married since 1997. In fact, our anniversary is on Monday. I am "celebrating" by working all afternoon and evening. (Thrilling.) Then, he will be taking the kids camping. (I don't "do" camping.) Anniversary? What anniversary? Anyhow, I'm getting off track here. I've loved my wedding ring since the first time I saw it-it's just totally "me". It's not too flashy, but it's pretty, and I love the style of it. That creepy looking picture is actually my hand and original ring. I sort of like my hands, but that picture just kind of freaks me out. My stellar cell phone photography "skillz" don't do my poor, decapitated looking hand any favors there...

A few years ago, I realized that my wedding ring was missing. At first, I wasn't too worried. I would frequently remove my rings, watch and bracelets at night, and just leave them sitting somewhere-on the end table, the night stand, the kitchen counter, etc. My husband was always bringing my ring to me, telling me that I'd better put it on before it got lost. So this time, I figured it would turn up eventually. After a few days passed, my ring never was found. I proceeded to tear the house apart looking for it. Well, my kids were both small then, so the house was pretty much torn apart already! I searched every flat surface in the house, felt around in drawers, looked under every piece of furniture, and even had my husband bring in the trash from the garage to look through. My worst fear was that I had laid the ring on a pile of newspapers that got picked up and thrown away. When it was still not found, we searched in the crevices of the couch, chair and loveseat. No luck. I convinced my husband to cut the cloth on the underside of the furniture, in case it had fallen down inside somehow. We never found it. I was heartsick.

Naturally, I started trying to convince him that I needed a new ring. A girl needs a little sparkle on her hand, right? For a long time, he balked at the idea. With my brother in law's help, we finally convinced him that I should have a new one. I think it was the whole "you don't want other men hitting on your wife because they don't know she's married" thing that did it. Not that that actually ever happened, but still...

So, one day, I settled in front of the Zales website and searched for a new best friend. Instead of being excited, I was actually a little sad. I really didn't want a new ring, I wanted "my" ring. Ring styles had changed quite a bit since 1997, so it was hard to find a similar ring, but I finally settled on a replacement. When it arrived in the mail, I rushed to put it on. It was bigger and flashier than my old friend, but still not too showy. My husband (playfully?) warned me that I'd better not lose this one or I would be out of luck, as we'd be paying for this ring for a while. We'd gotten a Zales credit card just for this purchase.

A couple of days after getting the new ring sized, and showing my new bling off to work friends and family, I was sitting on the couch pinning up a pair of my daughter's pants. She's always been a skinny little thing, so I keep a coffee cup full of safety pins to pin up the waist of her pants when needed. I was poking around in the cup, when I noticed something metal that was not silver, like the pins. An odd mixture of surprise, joy, guilt and chagrin filled me as I pulled the object out of the cup. It was my ring! My old ring!

"I found it!" I yelled excitedly.
"You found your ring, didn't you?", said my husband, his excitement level not exactly reaching mine. "I knew that would happen as soon as we bought you a new one." Bethany's Law.
"But look!! It's my old ring! I missed it!", I replied, thrilled to see my old friend again. She was not as sparkly as her new counterpart, and was much more modest, but she belonged on my finger.

A couple of years later, I'm much more careful with my ring. I rarely take it of at all now. Lately, I can hardly even get it off my finger-I'm not exactly the same size I was in 1997... I do wear the new ring on occasion-on my right hand, which I feel a little silly about, since it's obviously a wedding ring, but since we're still making payments on it, I figure I'd better wear it.

A lot of things end up lost around here, DS games, actual DS's themselves, socks, library books, etc., but the wedding ring is the most memorable of the "lost" item stories. I'm often asked to explain why I have two wedding rings, and I endure some good natured teasing from family members and coworkers, but it's worth it to have my old friend back where she belongs. On my sallow, puffy, wrinkled, decapitated hand.

Summer Fun Facts

2010-05-28T16:56:00.000-04:00

Not actually our Slip N Slide.

Fact #1-A brand new Slip N Slide has a lifespan of about 2 hours when 7 kids (5 being boys) have been playing on it.

Fact #2-When you set up a Slip N Slide in your yard, kids you may not even know will show up in your yard wearing swimming trunks within 2 minutes flat.

Fact #3-7 and 8 year old boys don't care how many other boys are in the tiny wading pool. They will find a way to fit in there somehow, even if they only stay in for a few minutes, before they decide that it would be great fun to slide down the swingset slide with wet pants on. They will have more grass tracked into the pool within 30 seconds than you knew you had in the whole yard. They will also inevitably take turns shoving the running hose down their trunks until you catch them and make them stop.

Poor Slip N Slide. When I was a kid, all we got was a long plastic sheet, and a water sprinkler. (It was rough back then.) Nowadays, they have all of these ~~annoying~~ fun inflatable parts. Of course when I brought the thing home, I couldn't find the attachment for the bicycle pump to blow up the inflatable things. So, I had to hold the thingie (technical term) right next to the air valve doohickie (being technical again), and pump away in the 90 degree heat. That was fun. Then, I had even more fun. Have you ever seen a cartoon where there's a water hose, and the water just kind of bulges up in one area of the hose? Yeah, you can tell this won't end well, right? Well, when I hooked the hose to the Slip N Slide, I watched, paralyzed in shock, as the water just bulged up in the tube thingamajig (I hope I'm not losing anyone with all the techie speak), and then popped open. Great. I managed to get it repaired with duct tape (best invention ever), and it actually worked! For a while. Until the inflatables at the end popped, and eventually ripped off. At least it was sort of cheap. Except for the water bill that will be coming.

Fact #4- The same moody, (dare I say, hormonal? Dear God, please no! Not yet!) 9 year old girl who was just crying dramatically because she wanted to be able to play on the Slip N Slide without a bunch of "little first grade boys" (she didn't like it when I said, "Well technically, they're all 2nd graders now!), will end up in the wading pool later happily barking and howling like a dog with a 4 year old, and 7 and 8 year old.

Fact #5 No matter what, popsicle wrappers are drawn like magnets to my yard. Even with stern lectures about the easy availability of trashcans. Maybe popsicle wrappers like Slip N Slides, too.

I'm Versatile!

2010-05-27T22:59:00.001-04:00

Hi! Remember me? That weird lady who owes more money in library fines than she makes in a week's work? The one who has been known to wash her hair with two different shampoos in lieu of conditioner? The slacker who used to post new blog postings two or three times a week? Yeah, it's me! I am, in fact still alive. Sorry, for ~~slacking~~not posting lately. This is the last week of school for my kids, and the teachers at my kid's school think that it's great fun to assign fifty million projects in the last two weeks of school that require parental assistance. Between all that, work, baseball and softball, and everything else....well, you know. Actually, I wrote a big, long, ~~really boring~~ wickedly funny post Tuesday night about it all. I spent over an hour working on it, but when I went to post it, it disappeared. By then, I was too tired to rewrite it. So, anywho....the kids are officially on summer vacation now, and maybe I'll have some more ~~blog fodder~~ time to post.

But, hey! Guess what? I'm versatile! Many adjectives, some flattering, some not so much, have been used to describe me, but never versatile. But maybe I am. After all, I can wear my hair blonde with brown highlights, or brown with blonde highlights (although two weeks later, it pretty much just looks mousy brown no matter what-I think I need to break up with my beautician), and I can drink coffee with french vanilla flavored creamer or with something chocolatey. And....ummmm...there are probably other ways I'm versatile (all equally as boring and lame), but I can't think of them. Ok, I'm pretty much a creature of routine and habit.

But, (I just started two paragraphs with "but"-that's not versatile) Lindsey from Just Another Milspouse Surviving Deployment awarded me with the Versatile Blogger award! Lindsey is one busy lady-she's a nursing student, raising her boys and taking care of everything while her husband is overseas-and she still finds the time to blog, much more regularly than me. I'm so excited to win another award-thanks, Lindsey! I would like to strive to be a more Versatile Blogger, actually. Sometimes I feel like I've written myself into a box-some days I don't feel very entertaining or funny, so I don't know what/how to write, and other days I feel like I want to do something different here, but then I want to keep some sort of a consistent theme going. I'm still new at all this. Anyhow, I'm accepting this award as a challenge to work towards.

The terms of the award say that I have to share 7 things about myself, and pass this award on. Ok, so here are my 7.

1. A kid at the tutoring company I work for which shall remain nameless, but fairly obvious, really, told my boss today that he knew that he was going to like coming there because I allowed him to be him. That was a huge compliment. Work hasn't been so great lately, so that was nice.

2. I often write blog posts in my head, and then get sick of them before I get around to posting them.

3. My husband and I are going to the Indy 500 this weekend. I'm really not much of a race fan, but we live near Indianapolis, and well, going to the track is just kind of what we do here. The people watching is the best part. At practice and qualifications the other day, I saw some...interesting folks. There was the lady with big, spiral permed, teased up to the sky hair, (honey, that ship sailed off in a cloud of Aqua Net a looooonnnnggggg time ago) that I would have been totally envious of, you know, back in 1991. Then there was the junior high aged boy wearing fireman's boots, and the dude wearing a tight basketball jersey (from a player who retired over 10 years ago) tucked into his long, army green cargo shorts.

4. I'm not a snob, merely an observer. A collector of the unusual. An appreciator of the seemingly odd. Oh heck-they were probably talking about how goofy I looked, too.

5. How can I be 35 years old and still so socially awkward at times? Ack! Awkward moment today. Don't want to talk about it, either. Nope.

6. I keep thinking it's Friday and get disappointed when I realize I have to work tomorrow.

7. I thought I was being a "cool Mom" by surprising my kids with a new Slip and Slide for the last day of school. But then my husband surprised them with the new Wii Super Mario Galaxy. Show off.

My goodness but I'm wordy! Sorry-I'm making up for lost time. Anyhow, I'd like to pass on the Versatile Blogger award to these fine, and versatile folks! Check them out!

Mary Bailey at Bell Whistle Moon
Chocolate Covered Daydreams
Monica at Organized Chaos

Thanks again, Lindsey!

Crabby

2010-05-18T20:23:00.000-04:00

I'm crabby today. I don't know why, ~~maybe it's PMS~~ but it's SO not PMS. I have legitimate reasons to be grouchy, like.....um......erm....well, I've got my reasons! I just can't think of any of them right now, that's all. Maybe it's the fact that the laundry that I sorted, washed and folded this weekend is still sitting on the coffee table waiting for certain other people to put it away. I don't think I should have to, so I'm leaving it sit there, as...well, you know, an experiment of sorts. Yeah, that's it, it's an experiment! I want to see how long it takes before someone (hubby, kids, the imaginary maid, Santa Claus, June Cleaver, the cat, anyone, anyone, Bueller?) puts it away. I'm getting sick of looking at it, though, so I think I'll be nagging at the kids to get their stuff, and hauling the rest upstairs myself. I could certainly use the exercise.

Or maybe it's because after cooking soup for dinner tonight, I looked in the cabinet and had no clean bowls. So, I reached in the dishwasher for bowls and spoons (none of those in the drawer), and discovered that it had never been ran. Great. Even better, I had already used one of the dirty spoons from the dishwasher while cooking the soup, thinking it was clean. I'll bet Martha Stewart's never done that before. SO not a "good thing". We did eat the contaminated soup and we are just fine. ~~So far. Fingers crossed.~~ Obviously, my experiment with the dirty dishes has not had a successful outcome.

"You did what?! That's horrifying!"
Add to that some work issues, family issues, broken air conditioning, and feeling like I can't keep up with anything despite my best intentions, and you've got one, irritable, imperfect mom. Anywho....I've got lots to be thankful for, great family, food to eat, clean clothes to wear, yada, yada, yada. I'll be fine by next week. It's not PMS!

My Feet and Wiffle Ball

2010-05-13T17:59:00.000-04:00

Happy Thursday! Wow-this week is flying by! Today, I am participating, once again, in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop from Mama's Losin' it . Every week, Mama Kat posts a few writing prompts, and anyone who wishes to participate can choose one or more prompts to write about, and then link up on her blog. Click on the button below to visit more blogs, or to join in yourself! (If you do decide to play along, leave me a comment, and I'll check yours out, too!)

Here is the prompt I chose:
2.) Where were your shoes? Write about an interesting time when you happened to be barefoot. Begin and end your writing with a description of your feet.

It was a sunny, spring Sunday afternoon. Our family was gathered at my Aunt and Uncle's house to celebrate Mother's Day, and a couple of family birthdays. (We're big multi-taskers.) I had on my favorite pair of comfy, Born heeled sandals, which show off my pink toenails, yet hide the fact that my feet could really use some TLC. As we sat on the back deck, soaking up the sun, my Uncle Ron laid a couple of Wiffle Ball bats and some plastic balls in the grass. You know, in case the kids wanted to play Wiffle Ball, or something.

Soon enough, Little Bit convinced me to bat so she could practice her pitching. Pretty soon, I was jokingly running to an imaginary base after hitting the hollow plastic ball, so I had kicked off my shoes, and was running barefoot in the plush, green grass. Ahhhh...I love going barefoot in soft grass.... Not long after, my Uncle had joined in, along with my 64 year old, arthritic Dad, and actual bases were established-a tree stump level with the ground, my nephew's jacket, a plastic bag of sports equipment, and one of my beloved sandals as home plate. Now my daughter and my Uncle are pretty athletic-and somehow they ended up on the same team. So very unfair. That left my Dad for my teammate. We are not from an athletic stock of people. At all. Did I mention my Dad has arthritis? That left me pretty much to field all the balls that my uncle and daughter were Wiffling all over the far reaches of the yard. I was basically a panting, sweating, laughingly complaining mess, and they were beating us badly. My pleas for help to family members on the deck were politley, although laughingly, declined. I think they were enjoying my pain...

Finally, we were up to bat, so I could sort of catch my breath. I was first up (out of two, LOL), and my daughter was ~~lurking by~~ playing first base. I hit the ball in between first and second, and took off towards the stump that was first base. My daughter got the ball and headed back to the base. I stepped carefully on the stump right before Little Bit arrived. First base made me a little nervous-remember, I was barefoot, and stumps have a tendency to be, well, splintery. So, right as I gingerly stepped on the base, Little Bit went to tag me with the ball, and I lost my balance. I tumbled to the ground in a disgraceful heap, and proceed to roll down the slope beyond. My loving family, looking on from the deck, errupted in laughter and applause. Nice, huh?

As a child, I remember falling, and just jumping right back up. Falling is different as a 35 year old, out of shape woman. I had to take stock of the situation before getting up. As I lay there looking at the fluffy clouds (miraculously, there were no stars or tweeting birdies floating in circles overhead), I mentally went through each part of my body-amazed each time I discovered that it weren't in pain. My laughing uncle came over after a while, and said "Are you okay? Did you twist an ankle or something?" More guffaws came from the deck as I answered, "I don't know-I haven't gotten to that part yet!"

Anyhow, I was fine, and the game continued until for another 30 minutes or so, until my impatient Grandma decided she couldn't wait any longer to open her Mothe's Day gifts, and we quit. As we headed for the house, I picked up my shoes, and looked down at my feet, which were now green on the bottom, and even much more in need of some TLC. Who knew feet could get grass stained? I have a feeling that my daughter and I will both treasure memories of this day for a long time. Memories of Grandpa running (well, walking briskly with a limp, actually) bases, memories of the two dogs running around, trying to herd us as we went from base to base, and, of course, memories of me, tumbling down the hill. Good times. Really!

Yeah, that was me...

2010-05-08T16:11:00.000-04:00

That woman you saw today at the little league baseball diamonds? You know, the one wearing a zip up hoodie, an ill fitting jacket, a child sized Snuggie and her daughter's multicolored, butterfly Children's Place gloves? Yeah, that was probably me. Judging by the smiles everyone was giving me, I either looked cute or ridiculous. I prefer to think I looked kind of cute, but really, there IS a fine line between cute and ridiculous. (And I've been known to cross it.) But hey, I finally was able to put to good use some of the items in my minivan that collect there because no one ever carries all their stuff inside the house.

Welcome to May in Indiana-where we can have highs in the 80's for three days in a row, and then BAM! The next day, the temperature doesn't even make it out of the 40's. Don't forget the daily Tornado Watches, either! There's something for everyone here; weather-wise, anyhow.

I hope I get something good for Mother's Day, because seriously? I deserve it. My daughter had a softball game at 9 this morning. She scored a double play which is really awesome since most of the girls were bundled up so much they could hardly move. All of us parents-those of us brave enough to not sit in our cars-were bundled up against the wind, clutching cups of concession stand coffee, and trying to force our numb hands to clap when one of the girls actually hit the ball. As midwesterners, we're supposed to be much more hardy than this, but we've been spoiled by an especially warm spring. Give us a day like this in January, though, and you're likely to see people in flip flops and shorts.

Anyhow, 2 hours later, we crossed the parking lot to field 10 for my son's baseball game. Tot can always hit the ball, but that's pretty much it, really. When he plays first base, he's really more of a First Base Greeter, than a first baseman. He goes to baseball practice to socialize and to climb up the walls of the plywood and cinder block dugout like a monkey until I go ~~yell at~~ ask him to get down. Today, he was especially not into the game since he had already sat through his sister's game and was freezing, despite the three shirts and jacket he insisted upon wearing. He pretty much just stood in the outfield and flapped his arms like a bird when his team was not at bat. Which, come to think of it, isn't that unusual, really. But, he's in first grade, so there's only about 3 boys on each team who seem to really understand what's going on, anyhow. The rest just run when they are told to run, and pick grass and kick up dirt the rest of the time.

By 12:45, we were all hungry and chilled to the bone from the artic wind. The only Grand Slam any of us were interested in seeing at this point was of the Denny's variety. After a quick trip through the McD's drive thru, we came home to warm up. Ahhhh.....it's good to be warm!

The things we do for our kids. (Sigh.) Okay, it really wasn't *that* bad. The kids had fun, I had a yummy pretzel with cheese, and I'm sure I'll be able to hear out of my frozen, aching right ear again someday.

Picture is from goodshirtbadshirt.com

Five Question Friday

2010-05-07T15:56:00.001-04:00

Yep, it's meme time again, folks. I have a bad case of blogger's block (or maybe just a boring, unfunny life lately), so I've been doing these a lot lately, I know. But, meme's are a great way to meet new blog friends, and to find more blog to read! I love reading, but I find that the older I get, the shorter my attention span is-I think I might have adult onset ADD. Blog posts are just the right length to hold my atten-OH! Look! George Clooney!! Oh, never mind. That was just the UPS man. What was I saying?

Oh yeah! Today, I am participating in My Little Life's Five Question Friday. Click the button below to visit My Little Life, and to find other Five Question Friday posts to read. Link up, and join in!

1. What is your worst memory of your siblings?
Hmmm. Hard question. My only sibling is my brother, Mark. He is 9 years older than me, and we've always been very different people, so we've never been close. I remember being little, following him around, trying to get him to play with me, and take me with him to his friend's houses. Sometimes he would, but not often. What 14 year old boy wants to drag his 5 year old sister around with him? Anyhow, he and my parents-especially my Dad- had a rocky relationship. Someone was always yelling or arguing. I've always hated conflict, so I remember hiding in my room crying, wishing everyone would just stop yelling. Ah, memories... Man, I wish this had been a best memory question-I have a funny story for that!

2. What was YOUR naughtiest childhood memory? (Must be something YOU did, no pawning it off on someone else!)
I was actually a pretty well behaved kid. No-really, I was. I think behaving well was my way of trying to keep the peace in our family. Here I go getting all psychological today. I was born to be mild, baby. Most of the "naughty" things I did were things that I didn't realize were naughty, until I got in trouble, that is. When I was about 4 or 5, I looked around the house and decided that there just wasn't enough art on the walls. So, I got out my Sunday School papers that had nice little color illustrations, and cut them out. Then I got my trusty Elmer's glue, and went to work. Next thing I knew, my Mom was angry at me, and I was being sent to my room. I guess she didn't appreciate all of the pretty pictures I had glued to the wood paneling in the dining room and all over the walls down the hallway....

That's the only "naughty" story that sticks out in my mind. I do remember getting in trouble for things, but I don't remember what for. You may find this hard to believe, but I had a tendency to be a little sarcastic as a teen. Shocking, isn't it? *batting eyelashes innocently* My parents put up with most of it though, and I think that is when I first learned that I could deflect attention from a tense situation with a funny, sarcastic quip. If I could make them laugh, then they couldn't be mad, right? Oh my, I'm getting all kinds of deep today....

3. Where do you like to go to relax?
Depends. If things are calm at home, then I relax here. But, the whole ADD thing can become an issue, and I get antsy. Truly, the only place I can just lay down and relax for a long period of time is the beach. Not such a good thing when you live in the middle of Indiana. Dang, there goes my annonymity. We've got cornfields and race cars, and some yummy fried cheese at the State Fair, but oceans, we don't have.

4. What was the last thing you won?
I honestly don't remember. I don't really enter any contests. I won an art contest for my grade level that was sponsored by Goodyear when I was in the 4th grade, though. The only prize my art will ever win.

5. If you could be on a game show, which would you choose?
Hmmmm...I don't know. Competitions make me nervous. I'm not animated enough for The Price is Right-I don't squeal and jump up and down when I'm happy, and I don't throw myself on the ground like a tantruming toddler when I'm sad. I only know a few of the questions on Jeopardy, and Deal or No Deal only holds my attention until the second brief case is opened.

When I was a preteen, I used to imagine myself on The Newlywed Game (with an imagined husband, of course). We would answer the funniest questions, and I would hit my imaginary husband over the head with my answer card when he guessed wrong, and we would kiss passionatley when he was correct. Then, we'd win some romantic trip to a dreamy hotel in the Poconos. You know, one of those ~~sleazy~~ places that they would advertise in the back of Brides magazine (I used to check them out of the library and plan pretend weddings), with the hot tubs shaped like champagne glasses and heart shaped beds. As a naive 11 year old, I didn't quite understand what we'd do there, beyond swimming in our own private, in room swimming pool, but whatever it was, it was supposed to be sexy.

So, five questions, five answers. My work is done here. I'm off to go watch the kids who are outside strumming on tennis rackets like guitars, pretending to be popstars.

Pictureless Wednesday

2010-05-05T23:28:00.002-04:00

Ok, so the title of this post was supposed to be "Signs That a Little Boy Lives at Your House", but I couldn't resist using this title, instead. Plus, I can reuse this title whenever ~~I don't feel like finding a picture~~ I want! It's reusable and recyclable. I'm SO green, people. So green.

Signs that a little boy lives at your house:

black Sharpie marks on your mattress
action figures at Hot Wheels in the flower beds
red clay dust on the carpet, tracked in from baseball cleats worn in the house
a trail of dirty little socks all throughout the house
crumbs on the kitchen table
crumbs under the kitchen table
crumbs between his sheets along with a two week old bread crust
a varied assortment of Lego airplanes and spaceships in differing states of disrepair throughout the living room
a brand new T-shirt cut from the neckline half way down the chest
a...wait! What?!

Um, yeah. My son will do anything for a laugh. He's shy with adults, but is constantly trying to make other kids laugh with his goofy antics. (I have no idea who he gets those personality traits from!) Today is a perfect example. Thankfully for us, when he gets in trouble at school, or does something he knows he shouldn't have, he tells us about it. It was his guilty conscience that caused him to show us his shirt right after school.

"Umm...I kind of got a little hot at school, so I...ummmm....got my scissors and did this", he told us, pointing out the straight slit that went about 6 inches down the front of his shirt.

"You cut your SHIRT?!", I ~~screeched~~ said incredulously, as my husband calmly started counting to ten.

It turns out that he was trying to make his friends laugh, while the substitute teacher wasn't looking. Nice. My kid is that kid. The one who does daring, but dumb things to earn the respect and laughter of his first grade peers. Great.

The teacher never noticed apparently, and we established that he never would have even tried this had his real teacher been there. Once every couple of weeks he gets his clip moved to yellow for some nit picky thing like asking to go to the bathroom 20 minutes after the whole class has gone, or giggling during center time, so I can just imagine that his teacher would have had a coronary had she seen this.

(Sigh.) He will be paying for the new shirt (that we just bought last night!) with his allowance, and we had a talk about showing respect for things and people, and the value of a dollar, and pretty much any other parently lesson we could think to impart ~~in between more pauses for my husband to mentally count to ten and take deep breaths.~~.

Other signs a little boy lives at your house:

little feet pitterpattering down the stairs for a second drink of water at bedtime
a second round of sticky kisses goodnight, gentle hugs, and "I love you Mom"'s
stick people drawings of Mommy and Daddy kissing surrounded by Star Wars tie fighters
a sincere little voice who says upon hearing thunder at bedtime "If you feel somebody climbing in bed between you two tonight, that'll just be me."
your house is filled with infectious, mischievous giggles, that make Daddy stop counting and start laughing along

Do you have a little boy at your house? What are some of the good, and not so good signs?

Disturbing Pictures My Son Draws- Part Two

2010-04-30T18:49:00.001-04:00

My son has an...ummmm....signature style to his artwork lately. He typically draws things that share the same theme-destruction, violence, flames, bullets, etc. I don't know where this comes from-we don't allow him to watch violent movies or tv shows, and he's a sweet, well behaved 7 year old boy, so it must be an outward manifestation of the male gene. If you missed my first posting of his artwork, please check it out here .

I'm sort of doing double duty with this post, by going along with Buried With Children's weekly Kids Make the Darndest Things meme. Check it out for more cute, strange, and/or funny artwork!

First of all, I'd like to share this lovely piece with you all.

In case you aren't practiced in reading first grade handwriting, it says "That is the biggest flaming tower that ever fell on me." Ouch. Quite the descriptive little writer isn't he? This picture has a few of his classic elements, fire, bullets, bombs (or "boms"), screaming people, etc., but I love how he throws in a little humor. The tower, which I assume is an apartment building, is listing to the right, while flames shoot out in every direction. Some poor soul on the top floor sticks their head out the window to yell "We're doomed!", as yet another person with a big head runs screaming towards the building yelling "aaaa!" What I at first though was a firetruck shooting water at the fire, turns out to actually be a tank in disguise, shooting at either the building, the fire, or the self labeled "bom" flying over head. I asked the artist what the things over to the side were, and he said "The people had to throw all of their giant cheeseburgers out the windows so they wouldn't burn up!" Couldn't let that happen!

Not only is a he a brilliant artist and writer, but he's smart, too! His class has been studying r controlled vowels in spelling. On the back of his worksheet, he was instructed to come up with some of his own "ar" words. Here's what he came up with.

Bar, barn, yarn...ok, good. Next is "fart". Of course it is. Please don't miss the plume of gas escaping the stick person's derrière! I didn't even know stick people had behinds! I love the smug look the person has on his (her?) face-that's the same look my husband gets when he rips one. Judging by the long hair, this may actually be a girl, which makes it slightly funnier, for some reason. I love how the teacher just checked the paper and moved on. Something tells me he wasn't the only boy to come up with this particular "ar" word.

Last but not least, we have a self portrait.

I apologize for it being sideways, but ~~I'm too lazy to edit it~~ it's funnier that way. Let me first tell you that while he does have a large head in real life (2 hours of pushing with this one!!), he is much cuter and better looking in person, and his face and neck are generally the same color. If you look close, you can see fangs-I asked him if he thought he was a vampire. He said, "Oh no, Mom. I actually tried to erase those." Apparently, he thought the shark teeth were more realistic. Added bonus: scrunch your eyes, and focus on the black space, and you'll see a water goblet!

I love this sweet, funny kid!

Thursday Thirteen

2010-04-29T19:42:00.001-04:00

I love a good meme when I have a bunch of random thoughts floating around in my head, but no coherent full story ideas. Today I'm jumping on the Thursday Thirteen bandwagon. Visit the Thursday-13 site to link up your own Thirteen, or to read more posts.

1. My daughter recently bought her first Teen Beat magazine. She's growing up too fast. Oddly enough, there were no Menudo, Scott Baio or Kirk Cameron pictures in there like I remembered. < scratching head in wonder >

2. I went to my Uncle's funeral today. There were originally 11 kids in my Dad's family, and only 7 of them remain. My brother and I were looking around wondering when all of our uncles and aunts and cousins got so old, because, of course, we haven't aged a bit!

3. I'm on a pot stickers kick lately. I bought the frozen premade kind at the store last week, and they didn't turn out too well, because they...um...stuck to the pan. (Thus the name?)

4. The dead battery is still in my purse. I did do a little ~~decrapifying~~ cleaning out, though. I'm thinking of making the battery my purse mascot, or something.

5. I appreciate the irony of the fact that I was given grief about not attending any family reunions by someone who's technically no longer even related to the family today. (Married into family, then divorced years later.) I love her, so that's ok.

6. Hmmm....I've been stuck on number 6 for a really long time.

7. No one should wear this . Unless you are a 3 year old girl, and everything else is dirty, and your Mommy just drug this out of the "Stuff That the Well Intentioned Grandma with Questionable Taste" bought at a garage sale for you to wear with your ruffly socks and white patent leather shoes.

8. I like to make Turkey and Black Bean Sloppy Joes. Well, technically, I like to eat them, not make them. They are actually fairly good for you. I loosely follow this recipe , but I use tomato sauce instead of juice, and add about 1/8 cup of ketchup, and 1 TBS of brown sugar. I also puree most of the black beans into the tomato paste, and smash the others a bit with a fork so it isn't so "bean-y". This would be a good chili recipe with a little extra tomato sauce and maybe some corn or something thrown in. And cheese. Cheese makes everything better. (I ought to have that stitched on a pillow.)

9. Five more, huh? Hmmmm. For once in my life, I'm having a little trouble coming up with randomness.

10. I recently found The Mouthy Housewives blog. It's a hilariously sarcastic, tongue in cheek "advice" column. It's very snarky, but there is much truth in the snark!

11. I want this necklace for Mother's Day. After nearly 13 years of marriage, and nearly 10 years of motherhood, I've learned that in order to get something I actually want for a gift giving holiday, I either have to purchase it myself ("Look what you bought me for Mother's Day, Honey!"), or be very deliberate and specific (there's only a 50/50 chance of this one working, but he prefers "surprising" me). I've opted to try my luck at the second strategy this time, so I showed him the computer screen and said "Look! I want THIS for Mother's Day!", and emailed him the link. We'll see what happens.

12. I'm almost there(!), and there's actually still some of Thursday left!

13. Tomorrow, I'll be back with the latest installment of "Disturbing Pictures My Son Draws", so check back Friday afternoon or evening! Also in the works, is an update to my "Library Loser" post (fyi-I'm STILL a Library Loser). If you haven't read the originals of these, the links are on my sidebar, if you are interested.

Is it just me or do you... (Part 2)

2010-04-27T20:31:00.000-04:00

It's time for another fun round of Is It Just Me, or Do You.... Designed to help all of us ~~but especially me~~ feel better about some of the silly/crazy/strange/quirky things we do.

So, tell me, is it just me, or do you....

always wear socks to the OB/GYN? Even if I wear sandals, I bring along a pair of socks to wear because "Oh my gawsh! I can't let him see my feet!"

I'll take any excuse to post a funny kitty picture...

put wrinkled clothes in the dryer for a while, hoping that you won't have to actually iron?
buy yourself a candy bar at the grocery store on those rare occasions when you get to go alone, and snarf it down quickly in the car on the way home so you don't have to share it with your kids?
get a little jealous of people who actually really don't mind ordering grilled chicken or fish and steamed vegetables at restaurants, instead of the cheesy, creamy, fatty, high caloric items (ie-things that taste good)? Honestly, when I'm trying to eat "healthy" (ie-trying to not have to buy yet another size up in pants), I'd rather eat a Lean Cuisine at home than have to choke down an overpriced slab of plain chicken at a restaurant.
get annoyed as you listen to your Mom talk about how her Mom is annoying her? (she's 84 Mom, if she thinks the cake you baked 2 months ago had white icing when it really had chocolate icing, then WHO CARES?! True story.)

spritz some Febreeze around before company comes just so it smells like you've been cleaning?
feel completely satisfied with just wandering around Target when you finally get some alone time? (Added points if you smile and get a little giddy when you hear other children crying/whining/fighting with siblings/begging for toys because you're thinking to yourself, "Haha! That's not my kid!")

ever introduce yourself to someone you've already met ~~several times~~? Yes, true story, sadly. I have a bad habit of not recognizing people when they are out of the normal context of where I am used to seeing them. It's so embarrassing.
have to rehearse in your head what you are going to say before you make a business call? (Added points if you forget what you were going to say when they answer the phone, and you spend a few seconds being tongue-tied before stuttering or giggling nervously.)
watch 45 minutes of a program before you remember that the program was DVR'd, and you could have been fast forwarding the commercials (and not strategically planning bathroom or snack trips so you didn't miss anything)?
dream about writing great blog posts or witty Facebook statuses in your sleep, but then can't remember them in the morning?

What are your "Is it just me, or's"? If you'd like, share them in the comments, or blog about them and let me know so I can read them!

Like Mama's Box of Chocolates...

2010-04-22T15:28:00.000-04:00

I've sort of been at a loss as to what to blog about this week-generally, I wait until I have something to say, or until something funny happens, but I'm at a loss for blog fodder this week. Sooooo....during some blog browsing today, I noticed that there was a meme of sorts going around that originated at Stacy Julian's scrapbooking blog . Participants are supposed to dump their purses and blog about what's in them, take a picture of said purse dump, and post it in a "diptych" with a picture of yourself sans makeup (and possibly sans hair product as well?). Well, being a the type of rule follower who believes in always following rules, yet bending them to fit my own desires, abilities and logic, I'll post the purse dump, but you are SO not getting the no makeup picture of me. Yeah, not gonna happen. Besides, I've not the foggiest idea how to make a photo diptych, and I really don't care to learn (I'm such a rebel!). Participants are also supposed to write about what the purse contents say about them. (I'm apparently a disorganized sloth.) You've got to click on this lady's link just to see how neat her "purse dump" picture is... (I'll bet her house is spotless...)

Like Mama's box of chocolates, when you reach into my purse, you never know what your going to get.

I have two pairs of cheap sunglasses. Cheap, because I always lose, scratch or break them, so I can't see spending more than $15 on a pair of shades. Two, because while we were at Disney World, I thought I lost a pair in the restroom, so I bought another pair, after squinting in the sun all day. After returning to where we were staying, I found my old ones in another purse. Now, I can't answer why I have both pairs in my purse currently... What does this say about me? Ummmm....I'm ~~cheap~~frugal, practical, and absent minded!

I have 2 limp balms, 2 lipglosses, and 2 lipsticks. What does this say about me? Ummm....I like soft shiny, lips? I dunno. Moving on....I have hand lotion, hand sanitizer, Bath & Body Works Body Splash, because I like to be soft and sweet smelling while I disinfect myself, I suppose. Next is a pencil from when my son had to do homework while we were at his sister's basketball practice-that says that we're busy and my son has too much homework (gripe for another day). Checkbook and pen-obvious, I would think.

The wristlet that I use as a wallet is in there-overstuffed with receipts, credit cards, rewards cards that I can never find when I need them, spare change (that hasn't actually fallen out into my purse yet), a tiny hairclip, and a key on a paperclip that apparently doesn't go to anything anymore, because I don't remember what it's for. What does all that mess say about me? Refer back to the disorganized sloth comment.

Widetoothed comb? That says that I'm not bald, I guess. Keys? I have a home, vehicles, and a job. In other words, I have a mortgage, car loans, and door to lock at work. Riveting post today, isn't it? Contact case and Glasses case? I'm blind as a bat. Sweet Tarts packet? I think my son gave them to me at some point in time, and I've yet to eat them. Honesty, I didn't even know they were in there. Guess that means I can add "forgetful" to the unflattering list of things this purse dump is saying about me. Nutra Grain bar? That was meant to be breakfast, as I always eat breakfast on the run, since I'm too lazy to wake up 10 minutes earlier to eat at home.

Let's see...there's also a random dead battery in here. It was actually in another purse when I switched purses, and I left it in there. You never know when you might need one, right? There's hair barrette in case I need to get my daughter's hair out of her eyes, and some strange, broken pink plastic thing in case I figure out that the mystery pink plastic thing it was once attached to needs to be repaired. All these things say that ~~I need to clean the trash out of my purse~~ I like to be prepared for any situation!

There's a BandAid wrapper in there because my daughter refuses to trim her nails, so her nails break off in the quick and bleed. Just what you wanted to know, right? All that says about me is that I need to hold her down and cut her nails, or else buy more BandAids. The two blue tickets are from arcade games. These say that I'm a wonderful Mom who ~~once in a blue moon lets my kids play arcades so they'll give me a few minutes peace~~ knows how happy it makes my kids to play video games ~~and waste my hard earned money in exchange for some cheap plastic crap that isn't worth my gas money getting to the place~~.

I've also got 3 pay stubs, which say quite loudly that I don't make enough money for someone with a college degree, and I pay too much in taxes. Other than that, they say that I don't clean out my purse often enough, since I get paid twice a month and I have 3 stubs here. You do the math.

Last but not least, is my Vera Bradley phone case, and my phone, which I was taking the picture with. Hmmmm...the "Vera Bradley" says that I'm a thirty-something suburban Mom, and the phone, well, that's fairly obvious.

So, in summary, I am a disorganized sloth, who is cheap, practical, busy, blind, and lazy. Grrrrreeeeaaaaatttt. I think I picked the wrong bandwagon to jump on today.....

Fight! Fight! or There is No Fury Like that of a Sister

2010-04-20T22:32:00.000-04:00

Hey-sorry about the long post, and the unusual absence of sarcasm and self-deprecation, but I'm in the midst of Mama Bear fueled angst that I need to get off my chest. We'll get back to the regularly scheduled goofiness/snark soon, so bear with me!

She's nine years old and about 50 pounds of skin and bones. Anyone who tries to mess with her little brother has to get past her first-and she's tougher than she looks! He's 7, impulsive, mischievous, and....well...just plain mean sometimes. I'm talking about the kid who made the mistake of trying to start a fight with my son (for the second time in a week) in front of his sister.

For years, I've told my kids to always watch out for each other. Friends are good, but family is more important, I drilled into their little heads. For a long time, I was afraid that my words would never sink in. My daughter and son are best friends, although they would never admit it. Sure they argue and bicker, and do little things to annoy each other like all siblings do, but where one is, you are sure to find the other. My only sibling was 9 years older than me, and we are not close at all. I've always felt like I've missed out by not having a brother or sister closer to my age, someone I could relate to. So naturally, it makes me very happy that my kids are so close.

Last week, Tot (my son) was at his Cub Scout Den meeting with his Dad. Our Den meetings are always a frustrating mess of disorganized chaos. Especially for me, a former Kindergarten teacher, who likes order, routine, and control, especially when a group of easily hyped little boys are concerned. But, I'm not in charge, and since I work during some of the meeting nights, I can't volunteer, therefore I feel like I don't have the right to complain.

Anyhow, my husband came home from the meeting furious. During an outdoor "game", that resulted, not surprisingly, in the boys running around like madmen, as usual, Marcus (name has been changed to protect the guilty and bratty), a boy from our neighborhood, tackled Tot, knocked him to the ground, and held him down, out of the blue. Marcus' Aunt Tracy (name changed to protect the clueless and idiotic), who is raising him, just stood by and watched, giggling. Tot was able to roll himself over and get up unscathed, but my husband was angry-this kid has been on his "Daddy Radar" for a while already as a potential bully. Our daughter was equally as angry as her father upon hearing what happened. She clenched her small fists angrily, growled menacingly, and vowed that Marcus was "going to get it!" I have to admit that this part was kind of cute-my scrawny, tiny for her age, little girl, ready to go after some mean boy for her brother's sake.... Anyhow, we calmed her down, and things have been peaceful around here since, until today.

This afternoon, they were playing with some kids in our neighbor's backyard. Little Bit (my daughter) rushed home, burst through the door, and breathlessly announced that she just "protected" her brother from Marcus, who had invited himself over. It seems that Marcus, who had already been making a general nuisance of himself, winged a tennis ball straight into Tot's eye with all his might. My son, who will normally do anything not to cry in front of his friends, burst into tears. Marcus laughed at Tot, who got up and kicked him in the leg. Both boys were wrestling with each other, when Big Sis jumped in and "protected" her brother.

"I kicked him in the nuts, Mom!", my innocent little princess said proudly. *face palm* I felt instant shock and revulsion (and if I'm totally honest, a teeny smidge of pride-hey I'm not perfect!) hearing those words (well, actually just that one particular word) come out of my daughter's mouth. We don't use that word in our house (well, for that anyway), and we don't condone that kind of talk, yet I was proud of her for sticking up for her brother, so I didn't know whether to scold her for her language (which she honestly had no idea was bad-she probably learned it from Marcus), or thank her for taking care of her brother. I think I did a mixture of both, as I ran outside to get Tot, who was now talking to one of the "bystanders".

Tot was fine, by the way. (I really shouldn't have picked such a babyish nickname for him, because he held his own pretty well.) I think he'll have a pretty good shiner in the morning, but the tears were long gone as he thanked his sister for sticking up for him. I had a talk with Little Bit (Little Bit of Fierce Rawrr!!, that is) about how it probably would have been better to go and get a grownup, and how kicking a boy there should probably be a last resort, but I did tell her that I was proud of her for taking up for her brother.

I don't want to raise fighters, but I do want to raise good kids, who love each other, and who can always depend on each other. And you know what? I think it's working!

The One Where I Prove My Stupidity

2010-04-16T19:59:00.000-04:00

Before I (further?) prove my stupidity, I need to take care of some housekeeping type stuff. Don't worry, not housecleaning type stuff-bleck! I don't like to do housework, much less write about it. More like, tie up some loose ends, and such.

First of all, 5 Minutes for Mom's Ultimate Blog Party 2010 is over. The pizza rolls are long gone, the Jon Gosselin pinata was decimated by day 2, and the replacement pinatas (Tiger Woods and John Edwards, of course), are destroyed, as well. Good times, right? The party was a huge success, as far as I'm concerned! I've found so many great new blogs to read, that I think I'm going to have to quit my job just so I can keep up! (Who needs a stinkin' paycheck anyway, I've got blogs to read!) I'm not going to name names, because I wouldn't want to leave anyone out, but seriously, I've found some great reads, and met some fun, talented, and inspiring people! And....wow....I am stunned and flattered and stunned and thrilled and stunned and tickled pink (oh yeah, and STUNNED!) by all of the comments I've received, and by...HELLO! all of my new followers! Frankly, I'm surprised that anyone reads my blog, much less 31 of you, so thank you for taking the time to stop in here and read my various ramblings. I've really appreciated all of your kind words-they've definitely been the highlights of my week.

So, on with the stupidity. I'm basically one pair of dark shades away from being blind-at least when I'm not wearing my contact lenses or glasses. I generally shower without either, so reading is not something I do while I bathe. Image my surprise this morning, when something possessed me to put my conditioner bottle exactly 2 inches away from my eye so that I could read the label. My lovely, creamy, white conditioner, is actually...wait for it.....shampoo. Yes indeedy, I've been washing my hair twice every morning for an indefinite amount of time with two different shampoos. This would go a long way towards explaining why my hair is not dark brown like in my profile picture, but is actually a light, mousy brown, after only about 4 weeks after coloring. Shampooing twice daily, even with color safe shampooS will do that, I suppose. I am an idiot, but at least I have clean hair! Providing comic relief with examples of my idiocy: it's what I do best. But gee, my hair smells terrific!

My Dad

2010-04-15T16:33:00.000-04:00

Again this Thursday, I've chosen to participate in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Every week, 5 prompts are posted, and participating bloggers choose one or more prompts to write about. On Thursdays, participants go back to Mama Kat's blog to link up, and read the posts of others. Click the button below to play along! (But read my post first, LOL!)

I've chosen to write about prompt number 3:

3.) What does that tell you about your father? List five products your father used (or uses). Write a longer piece about, at least, one of them.

I couldn't sleep last night, so as I was tossing and turning, I was trying to think of five products my Dad uses. Although there are many things I could say about my Dad, many memories I could write about (mental note to self to write about his workboots someday), many personality traits and qualities of his that I could share, writing about products he uses is difficult. My Dad is a frugal guy. Having grown up poor, as the 10th of eleven kids on a tobacco farm in Kentucky, my Dad has never had an abundance of cash to spend. He's not a big brand name guy-he generally seeks out the least expensive item he can find, especially if it is something for his own use.

I could easily come up with products that remind me of my Mom-the Kroger brand of Noxema that she has been washing her virtually unlined face with for most of her life, would be at the top of the list. I only have to smell that instantly recognizable scent to think of my Mom, and kissing her soft, freshly washed cheek goodnight. I will always associate Triple Lanolin Hand Lotion with my Grandma. That familiar yellow tube with the fancy green script writing almost always pops into my head when I think about her. She was a smoker when I was a child, and the smell of her cigarettes would entertwine with the scent of her lotion, and her L'air Du Temps perfume, creating a surprisingly, not unpleasant, Grandma smell. (Ok, here I am trying to be all sentimental and reflective, and I'm trying not to giggle at "Grandma smell"! See what happens when I try to get serious around here?) Camel Cigarettes will always remind me of my Grandpa, who lived to the ripe old age of 93. He smoked Camels from the time he was 14 until he was sucked so far into the depths of Alzheimers, that he forgot that he was ever a smoker to begin with.

But my Dad? Wow. Let's see, there's Grape Nuts Flakes cereal, Maxwell House Coffee, Mennon aftershave, and.....ummmm....hmmmmmm.

Let's start with the Grape Nuts Flakes-if any of these products say anything about my Dad, it will probably be the flakes. When my Dad finds something he likes, he sticks with it. He's not a flaky guy. (Ha! See what I did there?) Everyday of my childhood, as far back as I can remember, my Dad ate Grape Nut Flakes cereal. Every. Day. Have you tried this stuff? It tastes like cardboard-I don't understand the draw, but apparently he liked it. (Past tense-he's actually now in the midst of a decades long Corn Flake phase.) My Dad is the type of guy who goes through long phases of eating exactly the same thing-usually something very practical, and no frills. I remember a long spell where he would take a sleeve of unsalted crackers, a packet of turkey lunchmeat (you know, the packets of meat that rest below the bologna and olive loaf packages in the grocery store? Those.), and the ever present, stainless stell thermos of coffee for lunch everyday. My Dad prefers simple foods. If you try to impress him with a fancy meal, you'll be disappointed. He'll be much happier with a simple ham sandwhich on fake wheat bread with Miracle Whip.

Maxwell House coffee is another. I don't know if he buys it because he truly prefers it, or because it's pretty inexpensive, but those blue metal coffee cans are a familiar site of my childhood. Never one to throw anything useful away, my Dad has can after can filled with screws, washers, marbles, and who knows what else packed in his shed out back. I remember eating breakfast with my Dad, the smell of his coffee mingling with his breakfast cereal, his newspaper spread over the kitchen table. My Dad is the lone morning person in the family-he's always enjoyed a long, leisurely breakfast, sipping his coffee and reading his paper. Not surprisingly, he takes his coffee black. No fancy flavored cream for him, and he wouldn't be caught dead drinking a Latte or Cappucino.

Mennon aftershave. Well, I can't remember the exact name of the stuf, but I can picture the squat, dimpled bottle, filled with green liquid. I remember my Dad slapping the stuff on his bristly cheeks after shaving. When he wanted to be "fancy", he'd wear English Leather cologne, for my Mom-strongly scented and masculine, it came in a square glass bottle with a wooden cap.

Actually, I find that these things say a lot about my Dad and his personality. He's content with simple pleasures, and he's a very down to earth person, who doesn't feel the need to put on airs for anyone. He's not defined by the brand names he chooses to surround himself with like many people in our society today, but rather by his lack of brand identity. His character, and his quiet, loyal strength are his identity-at least to me.

This picture is one of my favorites, my Dad reading to my kids when they were both tiny.

TMI?

2010-04-13T23:52:00.001-04:00

I'm a little hesitant to write this post, because I don't want to scare away any of my new followers (thank you and welcome, by the way!), but so many people commented on my Ultimate Blog Party post that they liked the fact that I keep it real over here, sooooooooo.... I'm about to get all real up in here. (That's a suburban 30-something Mom trying to be cool there, folks.)

I had a little outpatient surgical procedure today, nothing serious, but they had to put me under, and all that. I'm feeling pretty good, maybe a tiny bit weak, but I'm not in pain or anything, so that's good. The worst part of this whole deal was the preparation for the surgery. When I scheduled my surgery, my doctor's office gave me a folder with instructions to follow before the procedure. Mostly, it was the typical, don't eat or drink after midnight the night before, don't take asprin or ibuprofin, etc. But, there was one other thing I had to do last night (actually I had to do it twice!!), that seemed kind of unusual for this specific type of surgery, but the instructions were on the official paper with my Doctor's name on it, so I did it.

I'm not going to tell you what I did, but I'm sure many of you can figure it out. Those of you who can't-trust me, you don't want to know, anyhow. It's just not pleasant, and some things just can't be.....ummmm.....unthought. It was pretty horrible and humiliating, and I refuse to ever do it again. Anyhow, let's just say, that a woman knows she's found a good man, when he'll hold her up on the toilet for 10 looooonnnnggg minutes so she doesn't fall off when she feels like she's going to pass out. That, my friends, is true love, LOL. Seriously, other than the...ummmm....thing that I had to do (Twice!!! Did I mention that? Twice!), which was not good at all, I had some pretty scary side effects that I don't think I was supposed to, and...the thing (thingSuh) didn't quite have their desired effect, which I worried about all night when I was not busy clutching my pillow in hopes of not sliding off the edge of reality.

Today at the hospital, my Doctor came to check in with me before the surgery. He's a pretty nice guy, and I've always really liked him as a Doctor, but when I mentioned that I had trouble with those things, he sort of chuckled, waved his hand, and said "Awww, you didn't really have to DO that. Sorry, those were OLD instructions you were given. That wasn't really necessary." Yeah. In that moment, I didn't like him so much.

But, after the surgery, he gave me some pretty sweet pictures of the thing he removed, so I think he was trying to make up for it in the way only a surgeon can. Don't worry, I won't be posting those, but they all look vaguely like Venus..... Hey, the last time something was removed from my body, I got a baby out of the deal, so I was happy to be going home with something again!

On a happier note, I am feeling really blessed. I have some really sweet friends-my work friends surprised me and took me out to lunch yesterday, and some friends from church are bringing us dinner for two nights in a row. It really warms my heart to know that people care about me. My extended family are being a little...indifferent about it all, so it surprised me that so many people chose to express their support for me, in what is essenstially a little thing. Talk about being the hands and feet of Jesus...I've been blessed to be a recipient, and yes, God is in the little things, too.

I'm still a little under the influenece of the little cocktail the anesthesioloist gave me today, so if this makes no sense, or is riddled with spelling and grammar errors, then.....well, I guess I'm writing how I normally do. < insert rimshot here > Wacka, wacka, wacka! Hoo boy, I think I'd better sign off now....

My Daughter, the Businesswoman

2010-04-11T13:04:00.001-04:00

Are you visiting from The Ultimate Blog Party? If so, welcome! My party post is here .

I've never really used my daughter's name on here-I'm not really sure why, but for now, I'll follow that old Mommy Blog cliche and call her a cutesy nickname. I've called her Little Bit since she was a baby, so we'll go with that. I call my son Tot, even though at 7, he's probably way too old for that nickname, but he'll always be my Totty. And I'll probably still be smelling his head when he's in college. What? Sometimes (probably when his hair needs to be washed) his hair still gets that sweet smell it had when he was a baby. It's a Mom thing. Anyhow, I'm getting waaaay off track here, which I'm prone to do. I'm supposed to be talking about what a ~~shyster~~ entrepreneur my 9 year old Little Bit is.

When she's not playing her DS, or pretending to be a cat or dog with her brother, or writing plays to make the neighborhood kids act in, she's dreaming up ways to make some cold, hard cash. Need a household chore done? She's your girl, if the price is right. (Although sometimes I make her do them anyhow, because "I'm the Mom and I said so", and all that). When her brother had to sell popcorn for Cub Scouts, she was itching to get out the door and sell it for him (even though she wouldn't get the money). When Girl Scout cookies season rolled around, she set a goal of selling 1000 boxes of cookies. It's so hard to tell your child that they are aiming too high. "Set your goals a little lower, dear." See, that's just not right!

The picture is of Little Bit having a Toy Sale last summer during our neighborhood's annual garage sale. (No, we don't always keep our garbage cans in the driveway.) The stuff you see is only a portion of what she decided to sell. She did pretty well, she's got the "cute factor" going for her. One lady came by twice to buy My Little Ponies from her. She didn't even have kids, she just said that Little Bit looked so cute and hopeful standing out there, that she had to buy something from her. (Yes, if I've taught her anything as a mother, it's how to stand by looking cute and hopeful until somebody helps you. *Bats eyelashes* What? It's a great skill!)

We live in the 'burbs, in a safe neighborhood on a culdesac at the end of a long road. There are other families with kids on the other side of the culdesac. We sort of have an understanding with the other families-the kids can go from yard to yard, or ride their bikes in the area, and we all sort of look out our windows and keep an eye on the kids. As they've gotten older, their freedom has expanded, but they mostly have to stay within the culdesac. When Little Bit was about six, unbeknowst to us, she took off down the street with another little girl, armed with an Easter basket filled with nail polish bottles. I can't remember how we found out, but when they got about 5 houses down the road, we found out that they were knocking on doors, offering to paint people's nails for .50! They had earned some "sympathy money" from good natured neighbors who now probably thought we didn't watch our kids, but they were made to return it. (Not one of my finer moments of parenting, that.)

Then there was last fall. Little Bit had been busy for days, cranking out woven pot holders on her little loom. (Remember those little square looms with the loops you weave?) Our neighbors had a bunch of friends over towatch a game, and again, unbeknowst to us, Little Bit made a sign, taped it to the mailbox, and set up shop in the driveway. I figured out pretty quickly what she was doing and put a stop to it, but not before she had sold 2 potholders for $5 to a "grandparent type" visiting our neighbor. Five bucks!!

Fast forward to Friday afterschool. The kids are out playing, enjoying the sunshine and warmth after a long winter. Tot comes in with chocolate around his mouth (a fairly standard look for him), but I didn't make much of it until he mentioned that he needed more quarters. Low and behold, Little Bit is out in the garage with her Easy Bake Oven making brownies, and selling them to the neighbor kids and her brother for .25 a piece! I didn't make her stop-I figured if they are dumb enough to pay .25 cents for a nasty old Easy Bake brownie, then so be it.

What does she do with the money? Well, I'm proud to say that she is a very careful shopper. She can spend over an hour in the toy aisle of Target, trying to decide whether to buy Magic Beans and a couple of packs of Pokemon cards, or a Webkinz, or to save her money. She compares prices, and agonizes over these decisions forever. (Unless she's spending our money...)

I was going to go into how she used to convince her little brother to trade her his paper money for her pennies and nickles (he's since wisened up), and how every year she cons him out of the best of his Trick or Treat candy (he happily goes along with it to please her), but this post is long enough already. She says that she's going to be a teacher during the week, a vet on weekends, and a movie star whenever she has extra time, but we think she's going to be a CEO of a big company or a lawyer. At least we know she can support us when we get old, although she'll probably put us in the "bargain" home....

Party Time!

2010-04-09T16:33:00.001-04:00

As with all online things, I'm arriving late to the party. This time, I'm referring to 5 Minutes for Mom's 2010 Ultimate Blog Party. Sounds pretty exciting, doesn't it? The point of the party is to get to know other bloggers, and to find other great blogs. Click the button below to learn more about the blog party and to find other great blogs to party at.

I'm supposed to write a "Party Post" to introduce myself, so grab a Solo cup of Coke and be sure to write your name on it with Sharpie (because that's how we party in my family), and grab a plate. I just threw some chips into a bowl, and took some Pizza Rolls out of the oven, so grab some, and help yourself. What? So I'm not Martha Stewart, as evidenced from my attempt at food blogging . Anyhow, have a seat (or stand, or whatever you normally would do at an ~~imaginary~~ online party).

As my blog title suggests (and my About Me section that you can barely read over the graphic-argh!) attests, I'm an imperfect mom. I don't pretend to have it all together for your sake-I pretty much let it all hang out. I have lots of bad habits, one of which, you can read about here . I sometimes share about funny things my kids have said or done, or even funny things my kids have drawn . I usually keep it pretty light and fluffy around here, but I am a Christian, and sometimes I'm so exicted about a Wow Moment I've had with God that I have to post about it. Sometimes I post about childhood memories, like the post below, or this one about my first car. Mostly, I post about random incidents, things that strike me as funny, or whatever pops into my head. If you really want to know more about me in general, read this .

I'm pretty new at this blogging thing, both with the blog writing, and blog reading, so I'm looking forward to "meeting" some new folks and finding some new blogs! Whether you are a regular reader, visiting from the Party, or just stumbled upon my blog, thanks for visiting! Now...help me eat the rest of these Pizza Rolls, and then we can go outside and play Badminton-without a net, because that's how we do it in my family. We're a little crazy like that... Oh yeah! There's also a pinata, shaped like Jon Gosselin (wouldn't everyone like to take a few blind whacks at him with a baseball bat?), so grab your goodie bags, and head outside!

The Biggest Baby in Our House is Me

2010-04-08T17:25:00.000-04:00

Today I'm doing something different. I'm participating in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. Every week, Mama Kat posts 5 writing prompts, and participants choose 1 prompt to blog about. I chose to write about a ridiculous fear that I have (because I have about a million), but if you'd like to see the other prompts, or check out the other participant's posts, click the button below.

I've always been a fearful person. I remember a time as a small child where I wouldn't go out and play for several months unless my Dad was with me, because I had seen a tv show about people who were attacked by dogs. I was terrified that the two friendly Husky pups next door would jump the fence and bite me, or that some random stray would run into our yard and hurt me. I was also afraid of the dark. I'm still somewhat embarrassed to admit that I slept with my bedroom light on until I was ten years old. My Mom still likes to tell the story about how I would be terrifed when I saw a fire engine, because I thought fire fighters actually went around and started fires. I don't know where I got that idea from, but I do remember crying hysterically after a fire truck went down our street when I was about four years old. I was also afraid of storms, new situations, water, and pretty much everything else.

As an adult, I still have plenty of fears, most of them typical. Like any mother, my greatest fear is something bad happening to my children. I also worry about something happening to my husband or my parents, or that I won't be a good enough mother, but those things aren't "ridiculous fears", and they're certainly not fun to write about, either.

I do have to admit that the Burger King guy sort of freaks me out. You know who I mean-the "King" with the giant plastic head and the skinny legs on the commercials. That frozen, snarling grin on the shiny face with the immobile features just makes me shudder. Maybe if he spoke, or did something funny it wouldn't be so bad, but he just sort of quietly enters the scence, taunting me with his freakishly plastic smile, and stares into the camera knowingly. What does he know? He knows that he feaks people out! I can't just be me. Right? I'll admit that my dislike of the King is pretty riduclous, but actually, I find him to be more creepy than scary.

I do have a really ridiculous fear that began in childhood that I've never actually outgrown. Aliens. Yes, aliens. Specifically the little green ones with the big almond shaped eyes. (Because I like to be specific with my irrational fears, you know?) Honestly, I don't really think these aliens are real (which is where the irrational comes in), but you never know. It all started when I was about 7 or 8. We'd gone to visit my Aunt and Uncle, and they sent me home with a big boxful of children's books that my cousins had outgrown. Now I was a good reader for my age; my vocabulary and comprehension skills far exceeded my maturity level, and we've already established the fact that I was afraid of pretty much everything. So, you can just imagine what happened when I found a book in the box about UFOs and aliens. Had my mother known it was in there, she would have surely thrown it away before I could get my innocent, trusting little hands on it. I can still see the cover of the book-it was royal blue, with a blurry, flying saucer on the front. The book contained stories and interviews with people about alien encounters. Photographs and illustrations accompanied the stories, making them look "official". Having been taught the difference between fiction and nonfiction, I assumed that the "real people" telling the stories and the photographs, rather than cartoonish drawings, made this book factual. My world was turned upside down. No longer would I walk down the dark hallway of our house to my bedroom by myself. Sitting in the back of our Pinto station wagon at night with my parents all the way at the front, was out of the question. My mother threw out the book, and tried to convince me that my fears were irrational. I think I finally believed her on some level, but this silly fear has never totally left me. If I see a movie, a picture or a tv show about these aliens (you know, the green ones again?), or watch an interview with a supposed alien abuduction victim, then I can't stand to be alone in a dark room. Sometimes I get a little freaked out when I'm the only one up late at night, and I refuse to look out the back windows of the house, because what if something peers in at me from the other side? I know, I know-I'm a 35 year old woman who worries about little green men. SOMETIMES! Only sometimes. The rest of the time, I'm a reasonably sane (stop laughing!), secure and rational person, really! So that is my ridiculous fear-not heights, or ghosts, or clowns (such cheery, givers of laughter and joy that they are!), but aliens.

I just had a scary thought! Maybe the reason the King has such a big mask is because underneath.......is a.... bigoldgreenslimyalienhead! With almond shaped eyes! Yikes! I KNEW there was something I didn't trust about that guy!

Hey, guess what?

2010-04-06T00:05:00.000-04:00

I won another blog award! Woohoo! Ok, I have to set the scene before I can formally accept this award. Imagine that I am wearing an elegant evening gown. Maybe something in gold or black, but definitley classically styled. I tried to find a picture to help your imaginations, but apparently, I'm too picky to even choose an imaginary dress, with imaginary money, to fit my imaginary body, which is 35 pounds slimmer and 3 or 4 inches taller than my actual body. (Just think what it must be like to shop with me in real life!) Anyhow, here I am in my lovely, classic old Hollywood dress (I'm thinking maybe something vintage-y? Hmmmm...), standing on stage somewhere glamourous, clutching my newest blog award. Oh. Wait a minute, that won't work. Ok, so I'm clutching my laptop, with the award on the screen! Yeah, that's it! But, my battery is crap, so I'll need a really long extension cord, and that'll look tacky, so let's just put the award on a big old screen behind me. Imagine my hair looking however you want, because I can't even figure out what to do with in in real life. (I've always wanted to try red, though....) Someone handsome (George Clooney maybe) just called me up on stage, and kissed me on the cheek. (I like this scenario!)
There-that's probably way more scene setting than necessary, but this is a big moment for me here!

Tanya, from Dreams Diapers and Dilemmas, has bestowed upon my blog the Beautiful Blogger award. (Me? Beautiful? *Bats eyelashes coyly*) Tanya has a great blog, and she and I seem to have a lot in common. I think we'd be good friends here in the real world! Thank you Tanya, I appreciate it, and look forward to returning the favor someday!

According to the rules of acceptance, this is what I have to do, and so do the people I pass the award on to.

* Thank and link to the person that gave you the award.

* Pass this award on to 15 fantastic bloggers you’ve recently discovered.

* Contact the Bloggers and let them know they’ve won (leave a comment on their latest post and/or tweet it with their @twitter name).

* State 7 things about yourself.

Wow-these things always want you to pass on the award to 15 people. I'm still kind of new at this blogging thing, and I'm sort of shy and awkward about this kind of stuff (and pretty much everything in general, come to think of it). I'm not sure I can do 15, but here are a few Beautiful Blogs I've recently started reading:

Buncha Blue-eyed Monkeys
Burried With Children
The Chronicles of a Veteran Kindergarten Teacher
My Little Life
Four Hoosiers, Two Cats and a Poker Table

Not 15, but check out my blog roll for some of my other favorites, who may add the award themselves if they happen to be reading.

Seven Things (because I haven't blabbered on long enough yet) About Moi
I talk about myself a lot on here, this is harder than I thought to come up with new, random stuff.

1. I hate mornings. Hate. I never, ever, feel rested in the morning, yet I can't go to sleep at a reasonable time at night.
2. My family has no idea that I blog. No clue at all.
3. My Mom is the only person in the world who totally "gets" me, and her health is poor. That really scares me-I need her.
4. I'm currently addicted to the show Ruby.
5. I can't remember the last time all the laundry in the house was done. (I do the laundry, so that's about me, right?)
6. I love Big Chewy Sweet Tarts, Chewy Sprees, BottleCaps and Nerds.
7. I'm a very loyal friend, but I'm terrible at maintaining friendships, if that makes any sense.

*cue music* Oh, I guess my time is up! Thanks ag... *cut to commercial*

Enough of the Rat Race

2010-04-01T21:38:00.000-04:00

By "Rat Race", I mean Disney World. This is the third year in a row that we've gone to Orlando with our kids. Each year we question why we keep coming back. It's not that we don't like Disney, it's just that we don't find it "magical" as other people seem to. Sure, it's nice and clean, and all of the Cast Members (Disney's fancy name for their workers) are friendly and smiling, but after all, it is just an amusement park. (Ok, I just imagined that I heard about a hundred people gasping in surprise and indignation at the "just an amusement park" part. Sorry! Maybe.) I suppose a lot of it has to do with the fact that my kids have very little interest in dressing up in costumes, or greeting the characters, and they aren't very brave when it comes to riding rides.

Or, it could have something to do with my tendency to get annoyed and anxious in crowded places. Seriously, what is the deal with the Moms with double wide strollers and five whining/crying/snottily sneezing, loud kids stopping smack dab in the middle of very crowded pathways to look at their park maps, talk to a friend, or chat on their phones? Do they think they are the only people in the park, or what? In the midst of a very crowded section of Hollywood Studios-crowded as in shoulder to shoulder, feet to feet-happy music suddenly could be heard. I was filled with a sense of dread, and overheard someone angrily say "If that's a parade coming this way, I think I might punch somebody!" Oh, wait....I guess *I* might have said that. Sort of loudly. That must have been why my husband looked at me in shock....

Maybe it's the cattle herding aspect-you know, walking slowly through intricately designed queing lines, or worse, being crowded into an open space, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, waiting to enter an auditorium or ride, while Cast Members with microphones cheerfully command you to move closer together. "If you can see carpet between your feet, then you aren't close enough!" or "If you can't smell the person next to you, then you aren't close enough!", they sing out with a smile on their faces, as they usher in even more people to add to the herd of tourists speaking a wide variety of languages to their whining and crying children. Then, the theater doors are opened, and suddenly, a swelling sea of humanity is pushing their way towards them, competitively squeezing out the less determined or organized among the herd. I'm always afraid I'll lose a child in the charge, and I get a bit panicky. And grouchy. I'll admit, Mickey's Philharmagic was pretty entertaining the first couple of times, but I really don't think it's worth all that stress.

Anyhow, we spent our first vacation day at Magic Kingdom. The park wasn't too crowded yet, and most of the lines weren't too bad. My kids, however, kept asking when we would go back to our rental house and swim and at least one of them complained everytime we got in line for a ride. I found myself telling them "This is the Happiest Place on Earth, so smile and have fun, dangit!" Isn't this supposed to be a kiddie Mecca? Each year, we take them back, thinking that it will be different, and each year it is the same. Sure, we do have some fun-it's not all whining, and crowds and complaints-but to them, Magic Kingdom is all about riding the Tea Cups, buying souveniers, and then going home to swim or play mini golf. I guess my kids are cheap dates. Forget Disney, we should just rent a room at a local hotel with a pool, take them to play Putt Putt, and buy them a new Webkinz at Walgreens and be done with it for just about $100.

After doing other activities in the area for a few days(the beach-cold but fun, the Orlando Science Museum, visiting relatives, Downtown Disney, etc.), we went to Hollywood Studios. It was crazy, can't move, can't stop and look at anything crowded. We managed to have some fun, but many of the rides we wanted to do had lines with waits of two hours or more, and were out of Fast Passes, so a few meltdowns were had (the kids may have had a couple themselves), and we left the park disappointed.

The next day we went to Epcot. I love Epcot, and apparently, so do my kids. The rides are pretty much all hits with everyone, and they seem to enjoy walking around the "world", eating Churos, listening to musicians play in each country, and looking in the gift shops. My daughter even had her picture taken with Mary Poppins-she loves that movie. "Mary" was very sincere, she bent down to my daughter's level, put her hand under her chin and spoke to her very sweetly. Then, she came over to us, and shook our hands. It was all very convinving. My husband kept saying with wonder, "Mary Poppins shook my hand!" To which my daughter would reply, "Dad, she's just an actress!" A lot of people were there too, but it seems that there is more room to spread out at Epcot-something my sanity definitely requires.The weather is always glorious whenever we are at Epcot-I guess it's just "our park". Still not "magical", but good.

Anyhow, despite the crowds and chaos, we had a good vacation. We do enjoy the Orlando area-I guess that's why we keep coming back. Magic Kingdom may never seem "magical" enough for us, and Hollywood Studios is much more fun when there are fewer people there, but the sunshine, palm trees, and blue skies keep us coming back year after year.

Thursday Thoughts

2010-03-18T20:58:00.000-04:00

Why, yes I am quite prolific, this week! You're welcome. It ought to make up for the next couple of weeks when I will be on Spring Break Blog Posting Hiatus. Ok, so I'm actually just going on vacation with the fam, but it's more fun to make up Important Sounding Names. With unnecessary capital letters, of course.

I'm a little too scattered today to string together a whole blog post about one topic, so for today, enjoy Thursday Thoughts with Bethany. Cue theme music.

*Why do the gas pumps at Crystal Flash have to talk to me? No, I'm not schizophrenic, they play advertisements while you pump gas. Just shut up and dispense my gas already!. If I wanted to hear incessant yammering while filling up, I'd roll my windows down and listen to my kids bickering inside the van.

*I can't believe that Sandra Bullock's husband cheated on her with.......THIS.

Are you kidding me? I do not understand men at all.

*I'm a little worried-my daughter is in a 3rd/4th grade split advanced class. I now officially have to look at the paper to make sure she's spelling her spelling words correctly when I quiz her at home. You'll occasionally even hear me ask "Is that even a real word?!" Did you know that "decuple" is a word? My 9 year old does. Do you know for sure without spell check, where all the l's and n's in the words centennial and millennium go? My 9 year old does. I'm not bragging, I'm looking for pity. I can't have a child who will eventually be smarter than me-that's dangerous!

*Someone please take away my husband's new Journey and Boston albums. I don't mind a little Boston or Journey now and then, but really, do we have to drive around town blasting "Don't Stop Believing" at car-rattling decibel levels everywhere we go?

*Favorite quote of the week: My 7 year old son inspecting his new $6 Lego set that he bought with his own money- "Well, THIS was money well spent!"

*Speaking of my son, he brought home another.....umm....violent drawing. I'm saving things up for another Disturbing Pictures My Son Draws post. We don't expose him to violent tv shows or movies or games-I don't know where the love of missiles, and bombs and explosions comes from. Must be in the DNA.

Well, that's all the thoughts I have for today. I am thoughtless now.

A Whole New World

2010-03-18T00:29:00.000-04:00

I got my first pair of glasses when I was in second grade-I think I was about seven. They had light blue plastic frames, and I picked out a very grownup looking, blue floral polyester case to go with them, that I was quite proud of. I remember the ride home from the eye doctor with my new glasses. The world was a beautiful place! I could see the individual leaves in trees, the bricks in houses. I could read signs that before had been just a blur. I was amazed at how sharp and defined everything around me was. My mother, a long time glasses-wearer herself, had enthusiastically tried to explain to me how exciting it was going to be-that first ride home with my new specs. Since I had no realization of the fact that my eyesight was bad, and I didn't want to have glasses anyhow, I didn't believe her. But, wow-she was right! It was like a whole new, sharply detailed world was being unveiled before my eyes. Even as an adult, I still enjoy that first drive home with new contacts or glasses, and I still marvel at the clarity and beauty of the world which had only recently been dull and ordinary. I've exlained to my eagle-eyed husband that going from old glasses or no glasses to new ones, is like going from antennae television to high definition tv.

I have terrible eye-sight. Seriously, when eye doctors think it's great fun to joke with you about how you might need a seeing eye dog (it's happened more than once, with multiple doctors) soon, then you know you have issues. It's all my Mom's fault-her eyes are even worse than mine. All I can say, is thank God for contact lenses, because even with the newest "feather weight thin-lens" technology, my glasses lenses are still at least a half inch thick. So, I've always known that at some point, the bad eye genes I've passed along to my kids would rear their blurry heads. Why is it that all the "bad" genes are dominant? Bad eyes, crooked teeth, fine, limp hair-bleh.

My daughter is 9 years old and in the 3rd grade. We've had an idea that she might need glasses, but we hadn't made it a priority. She's always been a straight A student, reads constantly, and has never complained about not being able to see things, so we didn't think it was a big issue. We were wrong. My husband took her to the optometrist last week, who told us that "she needs glasses really bad!" and "she can't see a thing!" Yeah, she's a very straight talking optometrist, LOL. <insert Mommy Guilt here> Sigh. So, my daughter reluctantly picked out some frames, and we waited a week for the glasses to be made.

She hadn't been very excited about getting glasses at first, but one day after school, she came home and told me that all of the "smartest" kids in her class all have glasses, so she felt a little better. In order to help her get more excited, I tried to tell her about how exciting it would be to put them on for the first time, and how she would notice leaves on trees, and bricks in walls, and read far away signs. My exuberance was meant with a disbelieving sigh and a claim that she could already see all of those things, anyhow.

Yesterday after school, we went to pick up the new specs. The Optometrist's assistant handed her the pink, flowery glasses, and she put them on. Cue immediate smile. "Ohhhhhh, wow", she said. "Everything is so clear!" At this point, I was so giddy with happiness I was fairly bouncing. As we left the doctor's office, she commented on how she could see all of the blades of grass. "More than I can even count! I can see them all!" On the way home, she was commenting on how she could see the outlines of the stones on the wall of a church, and was reading the logos of low flying airplanes in the sky. She gleefully read street signs, and billboards, and the smile and look of wonder at the beautiful world around her never left her face.

Although I'm sorry that she inherited the family bad eyesight gene, I'm glad that I got to pass this experience on to her, in a way. She now has "new eyes" to experience the wonder of creation around her, and she looks pretty cute in them, too!

Wow Moment with God

2010-03-16T20:54:00.000-04:00

As you may have noticed, you never quite know what you might find here on my blog. I write about a lot of random thoughts and observations, tell funny (I hope, anyhow) stories about my kids or things that have happened around here, and sometimes I'll post about things that happened when I was younger. Generally, I like to keep things light and fluffy here, since I'm not very "touchy feely" when it comes to discussing my innermost feelings. However, I've decided that I need to do something a little more from time to time. (Don't worry, there will still be plenty of corny jokes and random thoughts forthcoming.)

I was raised in church, and became a Christian at a young age. I've kind of "coasted" in my faith for a long time. It's not that I'd turned away, or stopped following Him at all, but I hadn't been growing as a Christian-I was just kind of rooted in place-still praying, still believing, but not knowing where to start with Bible study (although I was reading it), and not being very faithful in my church attendance. That started to change a couple of years ago, very slowly. God's been working on me, and I need a lot of work! I've always said that if God wants to tell me something, He pretty much has to hit me over the head with it, and that's been happening more and more frequently. I've started to refer to these times as Wow Moments. I've decided that I would like to share some of these Wow Moments here-I pray that they will encourage or inspire others in some way, but if not, at least by recording them, I'm allowing myself not to forget them.

My Connection Group/Bible Study Group for church is doing James MacDonald's Gripped By the Greatness of God. I've already had several Wow Moments in this study, and we are only in Chapter 3! It's dealing with Isaiah, which I find is a difficult book to read, so this study is really helpful. Today, as
I was catching up on the week's devotionals (yeah, I was behind-refer to the title of the blog, LOL), I ran across this verse:

"Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands." Isaiah 49:15-16

Now, this was written long before Jesus was ever born, but envision Jesus' nail scarred hands. Picture Jesus looking at His hands, and thinking of you with love-because he DOES think of you with love! He has inscribed us on the palms of his hands because he loves us THAT much. Not because we deserve it, or because we've earned it, because we never could, no matter how "good" we are. God, the creator of the universe and every living thing in, it cares about our problems(small, large, whatever)-yes, we'll still have problems, but he will be there with us in our trials, holding our hands, loving us, and guiding us if we listen hard enough, and wait upon Him. Waiting is the hard part-but things happen in God's perfect time, as part of His perfect plan-He is sovereign.
If we wait, God has this promise for us:

"Those who wait for the Lord will gain new strength; they will mount up with wings like eagles. They will run and not get tired." Isaiah 40:31

The next time you are worried, or lonely, or feel unloved or insignificant, remember Jesus' nail scarred hands, and rest in the comfort and overwhelming joy at the fact that He has written your name there if you are a follower of Him. He hasn't forgotten you, and He loves you unconditionally and always will!

This particular topic isn't new to me, really, I know that God loves me, but that first verse, combined with an image of Jesus' hands, really overwhelmed me all over again with how much He loves me, and the huge significance of what He's done, despite my imperfections. It was a major Wow Moment!

Happy Pi Day!

2010-03-13T22:24:00.001-05:00

Tomorrow is Pi Day, you know, Pi, 3.1475blahblahblahwhocares-THAT Pi. Apparently, people (really nerdy ones, I would guess) celebrate Pi Day. If you didn't know this, then congratulations, you probably aren't a geek! The only reason I know, is because I am a member of the fan page for the tutoring company that I work for on Facebook (which makes me a geek anyhow, as my coworkers like to point out), and they posted some ideas for celebrating Pi Day with your children. Fun. I'd comment on those ideas, but I didn't exactly read them, because I was too busy rolling my eyes and snickering sarcastically. I do that a lot. Plus, it's more fun to imagine my own ideas for a Pi Day celebration. Just think, you could invite all of your "mathy" friends-you know, the acountants, actuaries, and engineers. That's a recipe for fun party right there! You could pass out pocket protectors and fistfulls of freshly sharpened number 2 pencils at the door, with a sweet new graphing calculator as the door prize. Of course, games would involve contests to see who can solve equations with Pi the quickest, pie eating contests, and circle dances. At 3:14 (am or pm, your choice) everyone could solemnly recite the digits of Pi, while marching in a circle. Yawn. Ok, I'm getting bored just imagining it, so I don't think we'll be celebrating this year. However, if there's a Cake Day (with no math involved), then I'm all over it!

Is it just me, or do you....

2010-03-12T19:44:00.000-05:00

have an "overflow" trashbag beside the trashcan sometimes? There are times, when I'm too ~~lazy~~ busy to take out the trash, so I just put out an extra trashbag for the overflow. Do other people do this? I hope so.... I'm a working Mom with busy kids to shuttle around-things slide, sometimes. I actually had to explain to one of my kids today that putting trash ON the trashbag isn't the same as putting trash IN the bag.
sort of forget how old you are, and then get shocked when you are reminded of your age in some way?
get embarrassed when you pick up your kids at the bus stop or school, because you are afraid other people will notice how messy the inside of your vehicle is? I have Messy Minivan Amnesia. I rarely remember that it needs to be cleaned unless I'm in it. I have great intentions of throwing away the Starbucks cups, Coke can, fast food bags, Sunday School papers, straw papers, etc., while I am actually IN the car, but once I slam the door, my mind has moved on to other things. If it weren't dark and raining, I'd send my kids out there now with a trashbag-it's mostly their stuff, anyhow. (Ok, so the coffee cups are mine...)
think of something witty to post as your Facebook status only after you've posted some boring, mundane, thing?
wish you'd tried harder to talk your husband into having another child before you both got older? My husband and I are done having kids. *I* don't want to be done, but he was ready to be done right after our second was born. To be fair, he is more than seven years older than me-some of the people he went to school with are grandparents now, so he's ready to move on to the next stage. I, however, just don't have that feeling of completion-I think I'll always regret not having a third. I even miss Barney, for Pete's sake! When I was in the waiting room at the OBGYN the other day, I got a little...I can't think of the right word....emotional? sad? wistful? freaked out? when I couldn't find any other magazines to look at besides pregnancy and baby mags, and Senior Living magazine. I couldn't find anything for the "in between years". I guess I'll have to put my uterii (yes, plural uterus-story for another day) in retirement.
have virtually no socks that don't have holes in them? I don't know how this happened-some of them are almost new! Does one hole-y sock spoil the whole drawerful? Maybe one sock had sock leperosy, and the others caught it. Yes, this is what I sit around thinking about on a Friday night.
discuss your Farmville farms with your coworkers?
not understand why everyone thinks Johnny Depp is so hot? I find him cringe-inducingly icky, kind of like the white Prince. (It's probably just me!)
feel mildly guilty and unhip because you have no interest at all in food or photo blogs? Snore. I really don't need to see 10 softly lit, artsy pictures of someone else's cupcakes. Sorry.
write entire blog posts in your head, yet can't think of a thing to write when you sit at the computer?

What are your "is it just me, or's"?

Catching Up

2010-03-11T17:14:00.000-05:00

No, I haven't abandoned my blog. I keep meaning to post, but honestly, there hasn't been much to write about. We've had a lot going on, but the entertainment value of it all isn't very high, so I've kind of been hoping something funny would happen, so I'd have an interesting topic. No such luck, so you are stuck with a "catching up" type post.

Saturday was the annual school carnival. In addition to the carnival style games and crafts that they usually have, the auxilary gym was set up with inflatables this year. Having already spent most of their tickets on the games, my kids only had enough tickets left for one inflatable. The jousting game caught our attention first. On top of a flat, square inflatable were two pedestals where kids stand with stuffed, long stuffed sticks and try to knock their opponent off their pedestal. My kids really wanted to do this, and I thought it would be fun for them, too. I mean, really, what Mom doesn't want to see their kids take a few whacks at each other in a controlled environment? (Just me? Really?! Huh.) Unfortunately, my son wasn't old enough to play, so we decided to find something they could both do. Our attention turned to a long caterpillar inflatable-I snickered to myself when I saw it. Not because the caterpillar was wearing socks and tennis shoes on it's many feet, but because the caterpillar had......... a butt. With butt cheeks hat the children crawl out from between as they exit the caterpillar tunnel! For real! For some reason it struck me as really funny, although none of the other parents seemed to be amused. (That happens to me a lot.) My children paid their tickets and crawled through the caterpillar's mouth, as I stationed myself with my camera poised to take their pictures as they came out the end. A dad waiting for his kid gave me a funny look-I'm not sure why. How can a person NOT take a photo of their child being pooped out of a caterpillar? I'd post the pictures, but they didn't come out very well. Good times.

On Sunday, I got to have a "Mom's Afternoon Out". My work friends and I went to see Footloose at the dinner theater. I have to confess that I am one of the few 30-somethings in the world who has never seen the movie, but the show was enjoyable. The cast did a good job, but it was kind of hard to pretend that the women in their 30's and 40's were teenaged girls, and Rand (who was probably about 30, too) seemed like he was more interested in boys than girls, so his character wasn't very believable as the cool, ladies man, either. Still, it was fun to watch, and I'm anxious to go back in a month or so when they perform Hello Dolly, and again in the summer with my daughter to see High School Musical.

After the fun of the weekend, Monday and Tuesday were a blur, as I was busy back at work. Yesterday, I had to go to the Lady Parts Doctor, which is never fun anyhow, but even less so this time, since I found out that I will need to have a "procedure" soon. It's really not a huge deal, but there is a (very) small cause for concern, so I was pretty anxious. I realized something about myself yesterday-when I'm worried about something, I tend to downplay it to others when I talk about it, so that they won't worry, too. I don't really know if it's because I honestly don't want them to be afraid, or if it's because *I* need them to not be worried, so that I will be able to feel more confident myself. I'm not a very strong person, so the latter is likely the real reason. I gave it all over to God last night, and I'm actually not worried at all about it today-it's so relieving to be able to just lay it down at His feet. Typically, when I "give" something to God, I tend to keep trying to "take" it back, but this hasn't happened yet. Someone is obviously praying for me. I know it probably sounds corny and trite, but yesterday my prayer was "Jesus, hold my hand", and He really is. faith is a wonderful thing.

I know, the picture doesn't have anything to do with my post. It's my son yesterday at Cub Scouts.

The "Bethmobile"

2010-03-04T21:06:00.002-05:00

Having never owned a brand new vehicle, I've driven many a...ummmm...."quirky" car. My current vehicle is a seven year old minivan that makes several embarrassing noises when I turn or stop. Rattles, whines, and when it's damp and cool (which seems like about 75% of the year here!), it shreiks. Fun.

My first car, in 1992, was a 1980 Thunderbird. I would love to own a current model Thunderbird, they are sporty and cute, and awesome. Likewise, are the earliest Thunderbird models from the 50's. However, there was a long stretch of time where the Thunderbird was less sporty and cute, and more serviceable, and.....boatlike. The '80 Thunderbird looked like the quintessential "Granparent" car. In fact, it was my Grandma's car-my parents bought it from her for me to drive. That is not my car in the picture, mine was a darker, very faded, maroon. I drove it to school my Senior year of high school, and even though it was decidedly uncool, I was glad to not be riding the bus, finally. I had Cadet Teaching for my last class of the day, and I would have to leave my class before about 15 minutes early, just so I could warm up my car. In the Springtime. When it was warm out. Mmmmmmhmmmmm. Otherwise, it would die 4-5 times as I backed up. On days when I didn't have Cadet Teaching, kids behind me would be honking their horns as I stopped and started all the way out of the parking lot. Ahhhh...good times.

Actually, lots of good times were had in that car, most of them innocent(ish). One good thing about the cars from this era, were the size of the engines. This baby had a v8 engine-something that no 17 year old with a brand new license really needs. I used to tear around on the back roads flooring this monster. (Oh, the foolishness of youth!) The shocks were usually busted (you'll see why, soon enough!), so whenever it hit a bump, the car would kind of rock back and forth several times. My best friend, Angel, and I thought it was great fun to hit bumps on purpose to make the car sway. Hey, we had nothing else to do, and no money other than the $5 we'd put in the gas tank. She was the pastor's daughter, and I was a good, church-going kid, so this was pretty much the most rebellious we ever got. Angel was the friend who dubbed my car the Bethmobile, and it stuck.

Around here, there used to be lots of railroad tracks. Many of them were pulled up in the early nineties, leaving only the built up enbankments across the road where the track used to be. I would be screaming down a country road, windows down, radio blasting the Black Crowes, or whatever, and hit one of these embankments doing about 60. (I was stupid, I know!) We were always thrilled when the car would catch a little air, and then land, rocking back and forth somewhat violently for the next couple of minutes. Of course, you know we had to let out a couple Dukes of Hazard style "Yeeeee-haaaaawwws!" during the action. We were dorks, what can I say? I knocked off many a tailpipe this way. ("I don't know HOW it happened, Dad!") I have a feeling that my Dad *did* have an idea of how I kept knocking off tailpipes, but to my memory, I don't think he ever complained.

This was the car the that same friend and I would take to the drive in. One evening, we decided that we wanted to see what the big deal with smoking was. We had no intention of taking up smoking, but we were dying to try it. It was an experiment, really. She was already 18, so she bought the cigarettes at a Clark gas station, after a very long time spent working up her nerve. (She was a pastor's kid, remember?) She dragged me in with her, and we felt like everyone was starring at us. Guilty much? Actually, they probably were, we both looked more like 14 year olds than 17 and 18. Anyhow, we bought the cigarettes, and drove off to the old Clermont Deluxe drive-in. At dusk, we rolled down the windows and lit up, thinking we were hot stuff. We both expected that we would be coughing, gagging, getting sick, or whatever, since we had never smoked before. When that didn't happen, we both thought we were pretty cool, and we wondered to each other what the big deal was. It wasn't until a couple of years later that I realized that we hadn't been inhaling properly-that's why we didn't get chocked up. See? We were so non-rebellious that we couldn't even smoke correctly!

Lots of sunny, summer days were spent driving around in this car. Heading to church youth group trips, going on dates (very few of those for me, LOL), driving friends to basketball games, or just going nowhere, burning gas for the heck of it. While I'm glad that I no longer have that car (it was such an ugly mess!), I'll always remember it fondly. RIP Bethmobile, in whatever junkyard you now make your home.

What was your first car? What memories do you associate with it?

For the record, I am now a very cautious, responsible driver, and have remained a non-smoker, LOL!

Car picture came from here: http://www.albeedigital.com/supercoupe/articles/tbird_history.html

The Breakfast of Champions (if by "Champions" you mean kinda chubby, mostly sedentary, Moms)

2010-03-02T19:02:00.000-05:00

This is the breakfast that says "I give up. Maybe. Sort of." Kind of like when I order my coffee with skim milk, and then add whipped cream, or when I order a cheeseburger and fries with a Diet Coke. What's the point? One make me feel better about the other, I suppose.
In my defense, I didn't eat the whole box of cookies-I've got to save some for tomorrow!
(By the way, these are the *best* Girl Scout Cookies!)

Swwwweeeeeeettttttt!!

2010-02-28T23:25:00.000-05:00

What an exciting weekend here at Imperfect Mom! Not only did I get 6 comments on my latest post (even if some of those were me commenting back), but I also gained two new followers! But wait-there's more exciting news! Are you ready? I won, not one, but TWO blog awards, kids! I never win anything! Maybe I should go buy a lottery ticket, my luck must be changing. I feel like I've been invited to the Prom by the quarterback, or something. (Except I'm 35, so that would be kind of creepy, and would make me a serious cougar, although it would be eerily flattering, but you get the idea. I hope.) Have I ever mentioned how shy and socially awkward I am? (And how much I like to use parenthesis?) Dare I throw out the old cliche-you like me, you really like me! Ok, enough with the gushing. Seriously ladies, thank you for thinking of me, I appreciate it!

The requirements for both of these awards ask that I pass the awards on to lots of other people. I've not been blogging, or even reading many blogs very long, so I don't have as many blogs to pass these nice awards on to.

First of all, thank you to the awesome IASoupMama from http://courtenaysbo.blogspot.com/ for awarding me with the Sunshine Award. This is awarded to bloggers whose positivity and creativity inspires others in the blog world! (Wow-I am sure am glad I decided to give up complaining for Lent this year!)

The rules for this award are as follows:

•Put the logo on your blog or within your post.

•Pass the award onto 12 bloggers.

•Link the nominees within your post.

•Let the nominees know they have received this award by commenting on their blog.

•Share the love and link to the person from whom you received this award.

Here are my nominees: (I can't do 12 yet, but here are three extra good ones!)

http://faithfulma.blogspot.com/ The Blissful Babbler
Absepa from http://nerdinthecorner.blogspot.com/
Hearthy from http://hearthrose.xanga.com/

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next, Michelle, the joyful Blissful Babbler herself, from http://faithfulma.blogspot.com/ gave me the One Lovely Blog Award! Thank you!

Rules:

Accept the award; post it on your blog together with the name of the person who has granted the award, and his or her blog link. Pass the award to 15 other blogs that you’ve newly discovered. Remember to contact the bloggers to let them know they have been chosen for this award.

Here are my super cool nominees:

IASoupMama from http://courtenaysbo.blogspot.com/
Lori from http://luvmyfive.blogspot.com/ aka "Lovin' Life With My 5 Monkeys"
Beth from http://bethsayswhatishouldhavesaid.blogspot.com/

A couple of these nominees are online buddies from way back, a couple are new blog buddies, and a couple are ladies with blogs I have admired for a while. (That sounds stalkerish, doesn't it? I promise I'm not a stalker! This is so awkward.)

Thanks again, and once I figure out how, I'll display these awards proudly here on the blog!

Confessions of a Library Loser

2010-02-26T18:45:00.001-05:00

I have a bad habit. Well, actually, I have several, but we'll save the rest for other postings. I am really, really, REALLY bad about turning in library books on time. Heck, not even "on time", it's more like, I'm bad about turning in library books within a couple of months after they are due. I have no excuse for my poor citizenship in this regard, I'm just a lazy, forgetful, procrastinator. In every town I've lived in, I've had a library card. I love to read, so this is a necessity. I always start out with good intentions of returning my books in a timely matter, and I'll do reasonably ok for a while. By "reasonably ok", I mean that they are only a week or two overdue when I turn them in. Eventually, though, I get distracted by other, non-library related things, and my slacker-ness escalates to weeks, months, seasons..... I always get the books turned back in at some point, but embarrassed to show my face inside the library, the fines haven't always gotten paid. I feel so guilty admitting that. In the times in the past, we've always ended up moving to a new town or state, (not because of that!) where I get to start fresh with an untarnished borrowing record, and a shiny, new library card. I always screw it up.

This past summer, my kids and I made many visits to our favorite local library. Like always, the books got turned in roughly around the time they were due for a while, and with me feeling proud of myself for my borrowing responsibility, we'd check out new ones. This continued until school started, and our routine was disrupted. The three of us had checked out at least 9 books between us, which got forgotten about for a few......ummmm.....months. Yeah. I ignored a few letters from the library, thinking that I'd get the books rounded up and turned back in soon, and then promptly buried my head back in the sand. (I'm such a jerk.) Eventually, my husband demanded that we locate all the books, and we took them to the library's after hours drop box. Sweet relief. Fast forward a couple more months, until this morning. My husband opened up a very angry letter from the library, threatening terrible things if we do not return the books (what books? I thought we returned them all?!) and pay the overdue fines, OR pay $235 within 30 days. Two Hundred and Thirty-five Dollars. Considering that I thought we already turned all of the books in, and I've not seen them around, I may have to give up buying Peppermint Mocha Lattes for quite a while. Let's just say that dear hubby is not very happy with me today. I am very much in the doghouse. He has told me that I can no longer use my library card. Normally, I'd argue (or let's face it, ignore) this demand (I'm not so good with being told what to do), but what can I possibly say for myself? I'm a library loser, and I'm ashamed of myself.

Some women get cut off from their credit cards, and I, my friends, get cut off from my library card.
There ought to be a 12 step program for being a Library Loser. I can't seem to help myself-just when I think I've learned my lesson, it happens again, worse than before. For now, I'm keeping the shades pulled, and the doors locked, in case the angry librarians come looking for me. I'm sure they'll be armed with barcode scanning guns, and they'll arrest me with book binding tape, and drag me off in the Book Mobile to the stacks, where I'll be imprisoned, forced to alphabetize and memorize the Dewey Decimal System. They might give me one phone call, but I'll have to whisper, so no one will be able to hear me anyway. If this happens, please come visit me. I'll be in the "Bethany" wing of the building. (You know, the one they built with all of my "contributions"?)

What do I do?

What do I do?
This library book is 42
Years overdue.
I admit that it's mine
But I can't pay the fine--
Should I turn it in
Or hide it again?
What do I do?
What do I do?

By Shel Silverstein

Thursday Thirteen (aka: Just More Random Babbling)

2010-02-25T18:36:00.002-05:00

1. Everything is better with cheese.

2. Had a consultation with the Dentist today about pre-orthodontic treatment for my daughter. Hello, Aldi's-we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next few years. Since my son is only 2.5 years younger, that means that they will both likely be in orthodontic treatment at the same time at some point. Poor family planning on our part.

3. Frustrated with Cub Scouts. My son's den leader does the best she can, especially considering she didn't want to be the leader anyhow, so I feel bad for complaining. But. BUT! The meetings are so chaotic, the boys (especially hers), are so out of control, and the boys don't seem to be getting anything out of it. Last night's meeting consisted of the boys chasing each other around her house with play swords, while us parents talked about how the boys can earn beltloops and random stuff. Yeah. Ugh. I'd volunteer to lead a meeting, but she wants to do them herself.

4. My kids came downstairs earlier saying they needed an ice cube for an experiment. Um...no. Then they decided a mushroom would do. NO. Next, I heard them talking about how they needed some water to pour on their gum. THROW it away. ~~They are so strange....~~

5. I adore Chipotle's chips. I think it's the lime salt. Hmmm.....maybe if I put lime salt on salad, and grilled chicken, and egg whites and all the other "healthy" stuff I ought to be eating, I'd want to eat it! (Do you think skim milk would be more tempting with a hint of lime?)

6. My daughter is in a 3rd grade/4th grade split class. They are following the fourth grade curriculm for music, which means that we get to listen to recorder practice for two years in a row! Yea. This is basically what I'm hearing this week: "Hot cross squ-EAK!, hot cross SQUEAK!, 1 a SQEEEEAAAAA, 2 a penny, hot cross SQU-ea-EAKKKKKKK!!" This too, shall pass.

7. It's going to take me a while to get to 13.

8. What happened to all of the Thin Mints we brought home last week? *looking around innocently*

9. I ought to write a post about some of the funny calls we get at work. A lady a couple of weeks ago was angry because I wouldn't give her the number to the CVS on 38th street. We are a tutoring company, not a drugstore! She asked me how she was supposed to find the number, and didn't like it when I politely suggested she dial 411.

10. I was looking over a teacher's resume at work, and she had spelled "Purdue" wrong repeatedly. Seriously, you are a teacher, and can't spell the college you supposedly graduated from correctly on a resume? I make typos, and don't always spell correctly, but c'mon. A resume?! Your college?! That one went in the "NO" pile.

11. I really don't care about the Olympics. I've watched a few minutes of the coverage here and there, but I just can't make myself care. I'm sorry, world.

12. I recently discovered this blog: http://blabbermouse.typepad.com/ I love blogs that make me laugh.

13. Cheese. I need more cheese!

The idea for "Thursday Thirteen" came from this blog: http://thursday-13.com/ Thanks!