It's spring, but let's skip the festival.

Today I dropped off a cake at my son's school for the first time. No, I'm not going to make a habit of just dropping off cakes willy-nilly, it's for the school's spring festival. They are going to have a "cake walk". Even though I have no idea what that is, they asked for baked goods donations, and I donated. Last night I grumbled about having to make a cake. But today, I'm proud of myself. I'm involved in my son's school. I'm totally involved!

My husband is more involved. My son's teacher assistant ambushed me in the car line the other day. They needed volunteers to work at the spring festival. I told her I would check my calendar, then asked my husband if he would volunteer. He said he "could do anything for a half hour" and so HA! I gave his name. He's going to be serving hot dogs. I'm going to be eating them.

Now, before you tell me how awful I am for not volunteering myself, let me tell you about my little problem: I don't like people. Not all people, just ones I don't know. I am actually scared of strangers. And this spring festival - full of strangers. Lots and lots of them. And also, I'm scared of new situations. Spring festival is just another way of saying anxiety attack waiting to happen for me.

So I baked a cake (and I'm proud of my contribution!) and my husband is volunteering. Aren't we just the picture of suburban life? Well, if by saying suburban life, we mean woman with social anxiety disorder and man with crazy wife. Yes, I think we're just the picture of that, don't you?

Keep it moving, folks, keep it moving.

Nothing to see here. Keep on moving.

No new news, except for: I got a notification from QVC that my order has shipped. I await the fateful delivery.

No new news, except for this too: The weather (my beloved weather) is turning warm again. But, the weather, she is spiteful. It is bypassing 70 degrees and going higher. Cursed! I am cursed!

No new news, except for this one last thing: My husband is feeling a little better. He went to work today, but I really wish he would just stay home. I hope he takes it easy. Did you hear me honey? Take it easy!

Like I said, nothing to see here. Keep on moving.

Ouch.

My husband has kidney stones. That's what the doctor at the urgent care said last night when we rushed him there with pain that had him doubled over and writhing around. They can't do anything but give him something for the pain. And let me tell you, they gave him something powerful for the pain. He spent most of last night alternating between telling me crazy things and mumbling incoherently. Then exhaustion won out, and he's finally sleeping fairly peacefully. Still pain though - I can see it in his face even when he sleeps. If you're the praying kind... well, you know what to do.

I'm exhausted too. But my chance for sleep will have to come later. My son has school, and I have to get him ready, his lunch made, and his backpack all packed up. This morning I'm feeling my own kind of pain.

Last night when we had to go to the doctor, my kids were worried. When they saw daddy was in so much pain and that we had to get him there quickly, they started to panic. So I minimized it. I told them it was just fine, that daddy would get all fixed up. That he was just in a pain now, but we would take care of it. (Let me tell you, I was really hoping that was the case. What would I do if it wasn't the case? I don't even want to think about it.) So the kids weren't worried. Because they trust what I say. And they were fighting, and running all around my husband's gurney. I tried to get them to stop without threatening their lives right there in front of the doctors and nurses. Didn't work. And I couldn't get them to stop by telling them exactly how serious things were at that very moment, because, well, I didn't want them worried about whether or not daddy was ever going to come home with them again. When I told them to behave with that stern parent look on my face (you know the look) they looked back at me with faces that said, chill mom, what's the big deal? Oh, this parenting... it too is painful.

I never thought I would be saying this.

I did something last night I thought I would never do. I think it was a moment of desperation, coupled with the fact that my husband was out of town and couldn't stop me. I ORDERED JEANS OFF OF QVC.

Let me give you some background... I was fresh out of a relaxing bath. I turned on the TV in the bedroom while I checked email and got ready for bed. Our remote control is broken, and as you all know, when the remote is broken you are forced (forced I tell you) to watch whatever channel the TV is set on. Last night it was QVC. I sat through presentations of bras, a girdle-like thing, and a couple of terry pantsets. Then they brought out jeans. And what snared me was that they had them in a 29 inch inseam. Yippee! (I'm short, built like a corgi. Double yippee.)

The real danger was the fact that the TV in our bedroom is right next to the computer. (Never have we had such a den of slack!) It made it all too easy to watch them tell me I needed the jeans, and also view said jeans online at the same time! Amazing! Not only were they bootcut jeans with a hint of stretch and a 29" inseam, but also they were a bit more relaxed in the hip and thigh! I thought, oh my god, these were made for me!

So I ordered them. I ordered them online while watching them on TV. I think we should all just count ourselves lucky that I didn't also call in and say I was ordering them online while watching them on TV.

Expect an update when I get the jeans. I will be crushed if they look awful. CRUSHED.

Oh, and a side to my dear husband, please don't leave me alone with QVC and a computer ever again. We really need to get that remote fixed.

Mommy on wheels.

Yesterday we took the kids roller skating. They had never been to a roller rink before, and we thought it would be a fun family outing. Well it certainly was! I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. Nor have I fell so hard in a while, but more on that later.

My husband originally wanted to take the kids ice skating. But I thought that maybe we should start with the roller skates instead. You know, start small. The kids have had little skating experience. Mostly they have strapped on the kind that go over your shoes and semi-rolled on the patio. A far cry from the super slick floors at the roller rink. And believe me, they are slick!

My kids were so excited to go. They put their skates on eagerly, had a gleam in their eyes when they were all laced up... And then they stood up. And they realized that, holy sh*t, these things roll! My husband and I also laced up and were ready to roll. Only I can't really skate. I can just propel myself forward in a gangly, awkward fashion, my arms pumping and a supreme look of concentration on my face. But hey, I can stand, and that's basically all I needed to do.

We each grabbed a kid and headed into the rink. The kids tightly gripped the wall with one hand, and held on to us with the other. Their legs flailed. Their skates rolled, and they went nowhere but down. I was so afraid we were going to pull their arms out of their sockets while trying to hold/lift them up! But slowly we made our way forward. And I do mean slowly.

I managed to do pretty well myself. Luckily, I could keep my balance while holding up a child. Most of the time. I did take a mighty fall once that left a big purple bruise on my knee. And I also took out my daughter - that was the only fall that made her cry. Yay Mommy.

After a few ibuprofen and a good nights sleep, I'm managing to at least walk today. But my son has the day off of school, and so I'll have to take the kids out to the playground. I'm just hoping they'll let me plant myself on a bench instead of the usual game of tag they like me to play. Please kids, be nice to the old lady. Mommy wasn't meant to be on wheels.

House of sick. Also, house of loud.

My house should be quarantined. In fact, I'm expecting a knock on the door from the health department or the CDC any minute. We're officially carriers of an awful stomach virus. Everyone that comes into this house becomes sick. My husband, who rarely gets sick, came home from work yesterday morning at 10:30. Oh, but wait... He. Was. Not. Sick. That's what he claims. He just had food poisoning, or something like that. My not sick husband slept most of the day, and is so far feeling better and back at work. Which, is to be expected, because he was not sick. Not. Sick. Everyone else though - sick.

I wonder how much it would be to completely sound-proof my house. Because I just discovered something the other day when I rolled the trash can to the street - you can hear the kids yelling all the way from the street. So then I'm thinking that you can hear me yelling at the kids from two blocks away. And I'm wondering how many times I've yelled, "mommy's in the potty" or something equally embarrassing, and other people have heard it. My solution - try to talk really quietly. Only it's not working because the kids keep yelling, "what?" and then I get frustrated with having to repeat myself and end up yelling anyway. And by then I'm not just yelling, I'm also sounding really mean.

My apologies to the neighbors. For the yelling. And also, for spreading the sick.

Apple pie for quick weight loss.

I'm trying to lose weight. Well, not trying, more like wanting. When I had my first child I put on over 70 pounds with the pregnancy. (I know, WOW.) Now I'm steady at 40 lbs over what I used to weigh. Needless to say, I'm not happy about it. It's been 6 years now, and it's still here. SO I've either got to get happy about it or lose some weight.

I've tried the Atkins diet, and lost some weight. I've tried daily walking (and hour a day) and lost weight. But I have never really lost much, and I've always managed to get right back up to what I weigh now. That Sucks!

Before you send me any weight loss information, please know that I have read enough magazines, clicked on enough articles on the internet and seen enough Oprah to know what I need to do. I just don't want to do it. I must not have discovered my "true self" yet. (hee hee) I go full-steam-ahead on any plan/diet, and burn out quickly. So instead of starting something new, I'm just going to wallow in self-pity for a little while.

Oh, and I'm going to eat some apple pie. We've got pie in the fridge, and I love cold apple pie. Yes, I said cold. Also love cold Italian food, but I digress. If only apple pie could be the answer to all my weight loss problems. Let's make that a rule... Apple pie will cure all. Sound good?

Because I said so... Dammit!

When I was pregnant with my first child I did all the required reading. All the books that tell you how to raise a happy, healthy child full of self-love. I read about how you should always talk in a calm manner to your little one. How you should always explain your decisions, and how when you discipline your child it should be with respect and love. I totally agreed. Calm, I thought, I shall remain calm. And respectful. And loving. He will have a high self-esteem!

It worked for a little while. He was a happy infant. He played, laughed and smiled aplenty. I was fairly calm (most of the time! I swear!) I spoke to him in a very loving way and explained anything and everything that I thought he might want to know about.

Then his sister was born.

All of a sudden I had 2 kids under the age of 2. In fact, my son was not even a year and a half old. He had just started walking and still didn't sleep through the night without me having to join him in his bed. And my little girl cried a lot. A LOT. I was tired, and stressed. And I started to explain less, and bark commands in a non-calm manner.

Fast forward five years... Now I just bark commands. During the week my house is filled with four kids (two are mine, two I babysit for) ranging in ages from 6 to 6 months. I am not calm. I am not even very loving at times. It's every person for themselves during certain times of the day. And it's chaos, complete chaos. When I tell the kids to stop throwing coins and they ask why, I tell them, "because I said so." (Yes, today they were throwing coins. Don't ask.) When I say they cannot have another snack and they ask why, I tell them, "because I said so." Before you call child services on me, I still am a very loving person. I cuddle, play and kiss boo-boos away. And I do explain the why's when I can. But sometimes it gets so LOUD in here, that I truly cannot even think. I don't think I could tell myself why!

So phooey to all the child books that tell you how to raise your child. They just make you feel guilty for not being a perfect person. I say spend your money on babysitters and those noise-canceling headphones like these. We could all use our own Quiet Place.

There will be no puking during my 70 degree days!

This is not my first time starting a blog, but hopefully it'll be my first time maintaining a blog. I have what we lovingly refer to in my house as obsessive-compulsive disorder. (Not really though, but I think it would be a short walk to true OCD for me.) Only in my version of OCD, I obsess about things to the point that my husband is ready to shout "enough already!" and then I burn out on them, and never revisit it again. Or it at least takes me a while to get back around to that certain obsession again. And my latest obsession: my blog.

(Do you think she can say "obsession" any more? Enough already, we get the point!)

Anyway, here I am, ready to bare my soul to everyone. And what is it I want to share? Sickness. Illness. The Flu. As in, my son has a virus (not officially the flu, but close enough to me.) He's been sick since Saturday morning. Throwing up, diarrhea, mild fever... all the fun stuff. He's been miserable, and pitiful. I even think he's starting to look too skinny. And it's awful. I'm tired of cleaning up puke. Tired of bleaching soiled underpants. Tired of worrying. And tired of seeing him look so awful. I want my lively boy back. And I really want him to stop puking.
I watch 2 other kids during the week, and their parents have brought them over to the house knowing my son has a terrible virus. (Would I if I was in their shoes?... probably not, but who am I to judge. Wait, I think I did pass judgment...Oops) So I've been taking extra pains to disinfect everything, wash my hands after touching anything, and just generally prevent any more kids from catching it. Because I think if they got sick too, I would be taking care of other people's sick kids. And that's just not what I want to be doing.

Now to get the thought of puke and diarrhea out of your heads, let's move on to the weather. I know, it's mundane talking about the weather. But it's really been bugging me. You see, I live in the southeast. And it's already been in the 80's here - and I've already got a tan on my arms. But today... not so nice. The weather turned cold again, and it's raining. It's 44 degrees outside and raining. WTF? I'll be the first to complain when it gets hot outside too. Believe me, it gets really hot here. Humid and hot and miserable. Why can't it just be a fairly constant 70 degrees outside? I'll take a few cold days here and there, and maybe even a few hot ones, but I want it to hover around the 70 degree mark. Oh, and it can only rain at night. Not every night, but some nights, and it has to dry up by morning so I can herd the kids outside to enjoy the 70 degree days. Know anywhere like that? If it exists, I'm so moving there.

(First with "obsession", now it's "degrees". Make her stop!)