Too busy eating soup to write.

As some of you know (and some of you don't!) I am half Japanese. My lovely mother is from Okinawa, Japan. Why am I telling you that? Because I feel like I have to explain why it is I am eating miso soup right now. It's like a comfort food to me. And now that I'm not puking my guts out, I'm comforting myself with food. Because I am sick and hating it.

Did I mention I am sick?

And that I am whiney right about now because I'm sick?

But I'm feeling better now. It must be the miso. Or the fever breaking and the good night's sleep. Whichever.

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I know that my blog posts have been somewhat lacking lately. And by somewhat lacking I mean totally sucking. But, hey, I posted pictures! Pictures of the kids! And doesn't that at least bring you some joy? My excuse is that it has gotten really hectic around here lately and I never seem to have the time to get a coherent thought down. Or any other kind of thought either. I've had things happen in my every day life that I think would be great to tell ya'll about, but then by the time I sit down to write it just doesn't seem that great after all. Or it seems like too much to try and explain and I end up writing something that resembles this: We went to dance class. It was fun. And I know you guys are not really interested in anything like that. (Or are you? If so, amusing you is going to be waaayy easier than I thought.) So, you know, most of the time you get nothing from me. Sorry about that.

And on that note... that's all I've got for right now.

Sorry about the suckage.

Update.

Hello.

I am sick.

Goodbye.

Gone pouting.

Y'all are going to have to amuse yourselves today. My back is hurt (how? I don't know) and the kids are grumpy and I just don't feel like writing anything today. So, you know, come back tomorrow. Hopefully by then I'll have a little something to say.

But no promises.

Now with less sleep.

I have this thing about sleep. This thing being a heart-stoppingly maddening neurosis. I need a good night's sleep or else the following day is just ruined for me. Without sleep, I get cranky, my head hurts, my vision blurs, my skin breaks out and I am susceptible to illness. It's bad, really, really bad.

So last night, a night when I knew a good night's sleep was imperative because of the busy day that was to follow, I slept terribly. I was up the majority of the night, trying my hardest to get back to sleep. I think I only slept for about four hours, which might be enough for some people, but is not nearly enough for me.


I was talking to my husband about it this morning, and he pointed out that I sleep horribly every Sunday night, and every other night that I feel I've got to get plenty of sleep. You see, I am my own worst enemy. In my need to sleep, I put so much pressure on myself that I make it so I cannot sleep. Smart of me, huh.

So tonight I will sleep. I will not put so much pressure on myself to sleep.

(I will end up putting so much pressure on myself to not put pressure on myself that I probably will not sleep. And that's how my life goes...)

Birthday post #3 (mostly picture version)

We went bowling to celebrate my son's birthday. And also we had to kill some time before going to meet my husband's family at Pizza Hut to have a joint birthday party for my son and his cousin, whose birthday is the 23rd, and is almost exactly a year younger than my son. (My sister-in-law went into labor not long after leaving my son's 1st birthday party - back in 1999. That little boy of hers heard about all the cake and presents and decided to get the heck out of there, already.) So here's us bowling: (Well, everyone - except me. The one picture of me turned out so horribly, I decided to spare you the sight.) (Ha! Get it? "Spare" you the sight? I'm too funny.)

Birthday post #2 (all picture version)

Birthday post #1

Happy birthday, Son. I can't believe that are seven years old now. It truly boggles my mind how quickly the years have gone by, and I am a little fearful about how quickly the rest will go. I'm scared that one day I'll turn around and instead of a small child standing in front of me, I will see a grown man. You have already shocked me several times with your wise-beyond-your-years responses to questions and your maturity. And then, at other times, I still see my sweet little boy - the one who said "gimme gu-me" and held up his arms for me to hold him. I'm glad that little boy is still in there, for even though you are seven now, you will always be my baby boy.

(Opening the first of his birthday presents. These are from Sara and her family. They always know exactly the right thing to give.)

You are a wonderful boy who is full of wide-eyed wonder at the world. Most of the time, you are blissfully unaware of what is going on around you, and I love that about you. You live in your own little world - and what a wonderful place it is; it is filled with Jedi Knights and lightsabers, race cars, and robots. You are a child who does not have a competitive bone in your body; who is content to cheer for friends and strangers alike. You are full of kindness and love (except, at times, when it comes to your sister.) And I love you. We all do. We always will.

(She got a present from Sara's family too. And as always, it was perfect.)

Baby-related food memories.

Yesterday, I fed the baby baked potato and cottage cheese. All mixed up together. And it reminded me of all the time I spent in England, going to the markets and buying hot 'jacket potatoes' filled with cottage cheese. I remember how yummy it tasted, and how nice it was to hold onto something warm on the days my fingers were so cold I thought they were going to just fall off. How I loved to wander the markets and look at all the things for sale. The Doc Martens, the CD's and tapes, the various odds and ends that enthrall a high-schooler with money to burn. Ah, memories. Right now, I'm especially remembering the The The CD I bought - the one with Dogs of Lust on it. Love that song.

And all of that brings back the memories of England; how much fun I had and how much I loved it there. And how much I loved my friends. And... oh, gosh, I think I'm getting all misty-eyed. I must stop now.

I also fed the baby avocado, and he loved it. And I was all like, you love avocado? Me too! Have more avocado! I love avocado! You love avocado! I can't believe you love avocado too! And then I was thinking, avocado, what a strange word. Avocado, avocado, avocado. Also, it's fun to type.

Avocado.


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And now, ta-da, pictures of the boy, In uniform. And he looks fierce, doesn't he.

(Please ignore messy living room.)

(Also, the child looks weirdly red - and the pictures are horrifically (is so a word; is so spelled like that!) dark - please ignore that too.)

Mission (not really) accomplished.

I have pictures! Of my little boy in his tae kwon do uniform! And I want to post them! But I can't. Because they are still not uploaded. And Blogger won't let me post them. Because Blogger is a bitch, if you must know. Blogger is very temperamental and moody. Blogger is just plain pissy about these things (these things being posting pictures.)

Yeah Blogger, I'm talking about you - whatcha going to do about it, huh?

(Please don't do anything bad, Blogger, because the whole not posting pictures thing is bad enough, if you did something even worse, like not let me post anything, I might just lose my marbles. So I'm sorry for calling you a bitch, okay? Can we just be friends now? Please?)

So, aaaanyway, back to Tae Kwon Do. We went again last night. And my son enjoys himself so much. He's starting to get the whole kick thing down too. And the Hiyaa! sound too. He's still going to have to work on his jumping jacks though. When they do some to warm up, he gets the whole hands up, feet apart thing mixed up. His hands go up and his feet go together. Then he tries to get the feet and hands to match up and he ends up concentrating on his feet so much he forgets to move his hands, and then he jumps wrong all over again. It's like an endless cycle of mixed up jumping jacks. And it's kind of painful to watch, honestly. But then I looked over at another little boy last night, this one in a green belt, and saw that his jumping jacks resembled an injured bird trying to take flight (his arms were flapping ferocioulsy,) and I figured that maybe my son was doing okay. And I keep reminding myself that even though I pay enough money a month that the boy should be a black belt, all that really matters is that he's enjoying himself and feeling good about the whole thing. To which I can say, mission accomplished. (George Bush style - only he'd be wearing a Tae Kwon Do uniform and standing under a Korean flag.) (Oh, yikes, maybe not.)

So I'll continue to periodically try to post some pictures of the boy - until then... have a good one.

Birthday'o'rama

Happy Birthday to my dad. You are a wonderful man that we miss very, very much. I hope you have a good day!

Also, Happy Birthday to my niece. I miss her very much too.

Running around like a chicken... with it's head... well, you know.

You know how things can go from boring and easy to hectic and hard in an instant? Well, that's where I'm at now, the hectic and hard part. My week of vacation has made it so hard to get back into the routine. Add dance and tae kwon do classes into the mix, and it just seems like things are on a nonstop route to what the hell am I doing?

Yesterday we took my daughter to her first dance class. We being me, my son, and the two kids I babysit. It's hard to get yourself organized when all the kids are 6 and under. But somehow, I managed. And I'm quite proud of myself for doing so. I even survived the long walk up and down steps and through the gymnasium floor to get to the bathroom for the little kids - 3 times. I was sweating by the end of it (do you know how heavy a 25 pound baby becomes after carrying him for about an hour nonstop?) but I did manage to make it out alive.

My daughter enjoyed herself, and she looked so cute up there. She especially enjoyed the tap dancing portion, which, I mean, can you blame her? Any little girl would love to strap on those shiny black shoes and make all those little tap noises. I'll try and get pictures next time...

So I survived my extremely long and busy day yesterday, but when I got home, I just wanted to collapse into a heap and snore my way into the next day. That's not what happened, mind you, but it's what I wanted to do. No, when we got home the lovely tasks of feeding the children and doing homework (which, WTF is up with a first grader having spelling homework, and 2 sheets of math homework, and 2 books to read all in one night?) and getting everyone clean and into bed early because we're all still sick with this cold-to-beat-all-colds awaited me. Thankfully I had my husband here to help. Without him, I would be dead, and writing this from the grave. Which, really, would be quite a task in and of itself.

Anyway, did I have a point? I'm not really sure anymore. Just know that I'm tired and already wishing it was a weekend so I can rest. (We got invited to do something this Sunday, but I said we had plans. Yeah, plans to sit around in our PJ's and watch TV all day!)

Weekend.

We spent yesterday helping my pregnant sister-in-law move into their new house. And I found out that evidently, I'm useful! In a good way! I can hang blinds! And organize a moving truck! I am just overflowing with useful skills.

And because I'm exhausted and sick with that god-awful cold my husband has shared with the family (he's so generous) and I'm in full Nanny mode with the return of the other children, this is all I'm going to write for now.

Oh, and this:

"Mommy, how did the baby get into Aunt P****'s tummy?"

(Now that is the hardest thing I've had to deal with this weekend.)

The week in review.

Well, our van is home, sitting back in the driveway where it belongs, and *cross your fingers* fixed. I'm a little more than frustrated with the whole debacle, but happy it's all done and over with. (The van and it's new computer haven't taken over the world (yet) but they have rendered one of my keyless entry thingies useless. Beware a van who gets a new computer and takes a week to get it reprogrammed.)---------------------

My son went to his second Tae Kwon Do class last night. This time the whole family went to watch. What he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm. So I guess spending his car/college fund on lessons is worth it... ---------------------

Speaking of spending money, I am going to take my daughter out this morning to get her some of the gear required for her dance class on Monday. I'm dreading all of the bows and frilly things I know she'll desire - I am not a very girlie-girl - but I am also excited that she'll be excited. And she'll be oh so cute, too. ---------------------

This weekend we are helping my husband's sister and her family move into their new house. They just had it built and finally closed on it on Thursday. They're first time homeowners, and I'm so excited for them and their beautiful new house.So I'll be away from my computer (maybe) (if I can stand it) and will check back in on Monday. That's when my vacation will be officially over. Now I must go off into a corner and quietly weep...

Pure joy.

For several years now, my kids have wanted to be involved in 'other' activities. Like dance class. Or soccer. Or karate.

Well, yesterday I signed them up. My daughter will be attending dance (ballet and tap) on Mondays, and my son will go to Tae Kwon Do three times a week. (Or twice... or maybe just once... but he can go three times a week if he so desires.)

All I can think is, what the f*ck did I just do?!? I'm not really ready for the shuffle that involves picking them up at school, doing homework, grocery shopping, shuttling them to activities and having the kids I babysit (the three year old and the one year old) all in tow. Am I crazy?!?

Why yes, apparently, I am.

And did you know that when they quote you the monthly cost of lessons, and then you factor in the gear/clothes you will need, it will cost you more than you could ever imagine? It will cost you so much that you will not be able to sleep at night? It will cost you so much that you wish you had enough time to get a second job so you could pay for it without eating ramen noodles twice a week for dinner? Because that's how much it's all going to cost. Yes siree, it's going to cost that much.

But I'm willing to do it all. My daughter is so excited to finally go to dance class. And my son went to Tae Kwon Do for the first time last night. You should have seen his face - pure joy. I'm willing to do a whole heck of a lot for them.

Apparently.

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On a completely different note, I want to wish my big brother a Happy Birthday! Love ya, Hito!

My allegiance for a pair of jeans.

Last week (or was it the week before?) I sent out desperate emails. I was desperately seeking a pair of jeans. My only problem? I didn't know what kind of jeans I should be desperately seeking.

I have been frustrated for a couple of years now. I kept on searching for a pair of jeans that would fit my hips, waist and not be too tight on my thighs. A pair that would not stretch too tight over my badunkadunk (and what a badunkadunk I have, my friends.) I wanted a pair that did not have 'stretch'. I hate that almost all of the new jeans have 'stretch'. They do not seem to work for me; they only seem to make things worse. I also did not want a pair of the new 'skinny' jeans. I am not long and lean, so I do not want a pair of jeans that are made for people who are long and lean. So I was a little lost.

Then, oh, then an email came from the woman who will now forever be known as my savior (you can call her Sara.) She had knowledge that I had only previously wished for, and graciously, she shared her knowledge. She told me about a pair of jeans that were available in 'short', that did not have stretch, that were cut a little more relaxed in the thigh, and had a low rise, but were not low enough to expose your underwear every time you sat. She told me where to get them, and what colors they came in (not nearly enough!)

And based on her opinion alone (well, also, I was leaning towards trying these jeans because I used to wear some from this store before I had kids, and they fit really well then,) I ordered a pair off of the internet. I ordered a pair of jeans without even trying them on. It was a bold move I have made before, with very bad results. This time, however, I hoped things would end up differently, and I would finally find a pair of jeans that fit well.

On Tuesday, I received the jeans in the mail. I tried them on, and was a little unsure. But I washed them anyway, and wore them for the first time yesterday. And Oh My God, those are the best jeans ever. The truly are everything Sara said they would be. They fit so amazingly well. All except for the fact that they are still a little too long because my legs are impossibly short (but, you know, you can't have everything.)

So Sara, thank you for letting me know about AE Favorite jeans. And thank you for telling me the best way to get them was online. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you.

*I tried to put a picture of the jeans here, but Blogger wouldn't let me put a picture in. Blogger and I don't really have a good relationship. Yet I keep coming back. Dysfunctional, I know.

Out of the vortex.

So I'm on vacation from work and it's like I've been sucked into this weird time-space vortex thingey and I've forgotten how things were just a week before. The children need to be at school when? Trash day is what day? I have a blog?

I don't know what has happened to me, but here it Wednesday, and I'm still looking around wondering where all the time has gone. Granted, we did spend yesterday at home. (We being my husband and I.) You see, he's come down with the plague. Or something equally as bad. And he spent yesterday in some sort of fever and sinus induced fog, shivering in the easy chair while watching very bad daytime television. And I read a book.

We did manage to run out to WalMart and buy my son a copy of Lego Star Wars II for Xbox. It was the first day it was in the stores, and we didn't want our precious little boy to have to go longer than a day without it. You see, we've spent all this time spoiling him rotten, so why ruin all the time and effort put into such a worthy task. We must keep up the spoiling, lest he become mild mannered and grateful. We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we. (We gave it to him as an early birthday present.)

And today we went and bought him a new comforter for his bed. We also bought my daughter one, although she doesn't really need a new one like my son. We just had to keep on spoiling her too. You know, so the mild mannered and grateful thing doesn't happen to her either. But, and this is in my defense, the comforters were on sale at Kohl's and I had a $20.00 coupon, and I only ended up paying $13.98 for two comforters. Not bad, huh.

All this went on while my van sits at the dealership. We brought it in on Monday morning, and as of Wednesday afternoon, it still isn't ready. It ended up needing some sort of something-or-other for it's computer. And all I can think is, what is my van doing with a computer? Is it surfing the web? Buying things on Ebay? Should I be worried about my van and it's new computer? Could they be plotting against me? Whatever my van and it's computer are doing, it sure isn't fixing itself. Maybe it's on vacation too.

Murphy's law sucks.

You know what happens when you are off of work, right? You get sick. Just ask my husband; he's suffering right now. The one week you are off - completely and totally off of work - you come down with some nasty sore throat-sinus thing. And to top it all off, my son seems to be suffering too. Which may mean he stays home from school. The one week I will be child free, and I end up with a house full of sick ones. Go figure.

(I'm still holding out hope that they will feel better tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed for me - oops, I mean, them.)

I'm singing that Go-Go's song.

Did I mention that I'm on vacation today?

That means no children to babysit; no children, period, because mine are going to school... Woohoo!!

And my husband is off of work (although it may take an act of congress to keep him away from work for a full week.)

So where are we off to after we drop the kids off? Someplace exciting? Thrilling? Relaxing?

We're going to go get my van looked at (the "service vehicle soon" light keeps coming on) and his truck needs mechanical attention too (something about injectors and axle grease.)

Fun!

(Also, we're going to go out to lunch somewhere that does not serve chicken nuggets and cheeseburgers. That really will be fun!)

Yellow means walk.

Our children's school uses a color-based system for behavior. As in, you start out the day on green, any trouble will put you on yellow, and if you are particularly deviant, you are placed on red. We strive for green cards around here. (But we do not always get them.)

My daughter: "Mommy, I got a green card today."

Me: "Good. I'm proud. Did anyone get a yellow card today?" (The second day of kindergarten)

Daughter: "Yes. Three people."

Me: "Really?!? On their second day of kindergarten?"

Daughter: "Mm-hmm. And if you get a yellow card, you have to walk laps."

My son: "Yep. You have to walk 5 laps around the playground when you are on yellow."

My husband: "Well then son, you must have walked a lot of laps last year."

Son: "Oh yeah."

Report card - Day 2

My daughter started school this week.

On her first day, my son and I walked her to her classroom. The mother of the children I babysit was kind enough to keep her children home that morning so that I could have the opportunity to walk my big girl into school. My son was given the duty of making sure she made it into the correct classroom, and also picking her up at the end of the day and walking her out to the car line. (He's a big first grader, and also a know-it-all, so the duty was taken with all seriousness.)

When we walked to the classroom, I told my son he didn't have to go in, he could just continue on down the hall to his room. He stood there a few minutes, internally debating whether or not that constituted dereliction of duty. Then, deciding it would be all right to leave her in the hands of her mother, but wanting to make sure she did make it into the room lest he be considered irresponsible, he gave her a firm shove through the door.

Once we entered the kindergarten room, I could see my daughter grow nervous. She was excited to be there, but she suffers from an attack of the 'shyness' often. So I tried to give her all of the bravery I could by gently stroking her hair and letting her get acclimated. Once the 'shyness' attack abated a little, she found her cubby and hung her backpack up. Then she immediately returned to my side. After more hair stroking, I encouraged her to get her lunch box out of her backpack and put it on the designated shelf. That, it seems, was too much to ask. It required more than hair stroking. It required a firm "Go ahead, I'll be right here" and I also had to get down on my knees to show that I was right there for her. Well, after shoring herself up once more, she did go get her lunch box. And she put it on the correct shelf. And then she returned triumphantly to my side. (There's nothing like the look of accomplishment on a child's face!) After that, the teacher took over and I said my goodbyes. I was tearless and happy for her. I knew she would have a good day.

The tears came later. (Did you doubt there would be any tears?) They started when I pulled up in front of the school in the afternoon pick-up car line and I saw my two babies walk out of the building, hand in hand. They were scanning the cars looking for theirs. And then when they spotted me, a huge smile lit up their faces. And I teared up. I teared up as soon as I saw them exit the building, and even more tears came when I saw their beautiful smiles. It still makes me tear up a little, just writing about it. Those are my babies, and they are growing so fast.

Well, today I dropped them both off at school in the car line. It was the first time I did that. (The kindergarteners had a staggered start - one half went Wednesday (like my daughter) and the other half went Thursday (which meant she was home then) and they all go today.) I made sure my son knew that he was still in charge of making sure she made it into her classroom (hopefully without the shove this time) and they both exited the van and grabbed each other's hands. And I saw them in my rearview mirror as I drove away - they were walking hand in hand into the building. My babies... *sniff*

An ineresting post, with pacific details.

This has been bothering me since last night. It has bothered me so much, in fact, that I have decided to give it it's own post. SO here goes:

But first, a disclaimer: I know that when I write things on here I do not always follow the rules of grammar. In fact, sometimes, I break them on purpose. I like to add extra commas, use dashes when they aren't really necessary, and sometimes I just butcher the English language for the hell of it. But I'm aware of it. I'm also aware of the fact that this is not any sort of thing that is going to be published. It is not for a newspaper or magazine, or for any school-like project. It is for me, and I do what I want to with it.

So when teachers send home newsletters with horrible punctuation and use the wrong word in sentences, well, that drives me crazy. They are teachers, for god's sake. They are the ones who should know better! Call me crazy, but I expect them to understand the basic rules of grammar - and, um, use them.

(Like that dash I used up there? I'm totally breaking the rules. But I can because I'm not expected to follow the rules. Ha!)

And another thing that bothers me - when teachers mispronounce a word. Like, say for instance, and I'm just pulling this out of the blue, it wasn't what I heard my daughter's teacher say last night, not at all - like when someone says "inerested" instead of "interested" or "pacific" instead of "specific". All I can think is, how on earth did you make it out of college without ever learning how to pronounce the word?!?

I know that I am not perfect. I'm sure I mispronounce plenty of words. And I'm not saying I'm better than they are. I'm just saying that it is something that maybe, just maybe, they should work on.

Because, really, that whole "inerested" thing drives me crazy!

School days.

Here they are - the pictures that Blogger would not let me post. (You are so not my friend anymore, Blogger!) (Except now that you're letting me post pictures again, maybe I can forgive you.) (Maybe.)

This is my son on his first day of school. Notice the intense mental preparation, otherwise known as XBox.And this is when I told him to stand by the door so I could take his picture. Notice how sweet and kind he looks.
Here he is, going to school. Notice the look of apprehension. Or maybe it's just the look he gives me when he's tired of me taking his picture.

Here's my daughter eating her breakfast. PB&J and chips. And chocolate milk. (It's what she requested, and I couldn't very well turn down a girl who was going off to school for the first time, could I?)

And here she is in the skirt that she picked out herself and insisted she wear on the first day of school. I would have picked out something very, very different. But, you know, she practically grown now and all.
Here's the pink backpack. The backpack that took a very, very long time to pick out. She wanted something with glitter and pictures of princesses on it. I wanted her to go with something plain and simple. This is the compromise (although I think I won.)

And now they're both officially in school. It's very, um, hmm, not as weird as I thought it would be. I think the first day of preschool was more of a monumental thing for me to handle. Today is the day I've been waiting for - today I am free. Well, except for the fact that I have a 3 year old and a 1 year old coming over any minute now. So I'm not really free after all. So, you know, oh well.

To Do List.

Things to do today:

• Clean toilets - this one is a must, enough said.
• Scrub bathtubs - any bets on whether or not this one gets done? But it's something that will soon be a 'must do'.
• Label school supplies - oh, another 'must do' because it's my daughter's first day tomorrow!
• Wash dishes - or rather, load dishwasher. You don't think I actually wash things by hand, do you? In fact, I've been known to shove things that barely fit into the dishwasher, and put it through two cycles to get it clean. That's how much I hate to hand wash dishes.
• Laundry - for the record, I hate laundry. I wish we had enough clothes to last for months, so I wouldn't have to do it so often. But then the dirty clothes would overtake the house and maybe spread out into the street, so I guess I'll just keep it the way it is. But I can still grumble whilst I fold!

And this is what I've been reduced to - publishing my To Do list on the internet. It's bad, ya'll. Really bad. Send help. And cookies. Or brownies. (And milk.)

(And someone to tackle that To Do list.)

Report card - the first week.

Don't you just love a day off? (Well, a paid day off, that is. If you're not being paid, it just seems like a day that you are not able to work; like you would be there to earn your days worth of pay if it wasn't for the stupid holiday and work being closed. But if you're being paid, well, that's different. Then it's a bonus, and you couldn't be dragged into work for anything because it's a holiday, gosh darn it.) I'm sitting here with my cup of coffee and my whole day ahead of me, and I'm loving it.

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I thought I would go ahead and talk a little about my son's first week at school. I know that there may be a few of you (Hi Grandparents!) who are wondering how it is going. Well, let me tell you - he's loving it. He loves his teacher and her assistant. He likes his classmates. He's even bought lunch in the cafeteria - twice - and drank chocolate milk both times. He has not had any adjustment issues or gotten in trouble for acting out. It is like night and day compared to the issues he had last year when he first started this school. And I think it's all based on the fact that he has a teacher that he gets along with.

And speaking of the teacher from last year... guess who my daughter has as her kindergarten teacher? Yuppers. The very same one my son had. The one that did not do well with my boy and who made things very tough at times. But... but, I think she'll be a much better fit for my daughter than she was for my son. Those two kids are so different, you wouldn't even think they were raised by the same people if it wasn't for the fact that they look so darn much alike. So don't be disheartened, I think my little girl will do well in her class. She'd do well in school regardless of her teacher, I think. And she's looking forward to going so much. Her first day is Wednesday - wish her luck.

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Now I better go get myself ready for the day. For even though it is a day off (squeeeeel!) I still have to go to the grocery store and clean up this house a little bit. And I figured if I got an early start, I will still have time to just lounge around and do nothing. Ah, nothing - how I love it so.

Lovely things.

I've spent a good deal of my morning shopping. Online. And not actually buying anything. Just monitor-shopping. And since I don't have anything to post about (I've given you all the sappy love I can the past couple of days,) I figured I would present you with links. Links to things I desire, or just plain love to look at.

• First off, I like these mugs. I like the retro look, and I think they're just plain cute.
• Next, I bring you salt and pepper shakers that so adorable I think I may just have to buy them. Although, I'm not sure if "adorable" is necessarily what my husband wants on his dinner table.
• These I would buy if I had a little baby girl, even if they are totally useless. Anyone know of a little baby girl I can buy these for?
• I love this bracelet, even though I don't wear jewelry. I just think it's oh so pretty.
• I'd love 4 of these to go on my front porch and upstairs balcony. In white, please.
• And I'd love this sofa to go in my front room. In a different color, though.

And now I must go - my husband is dragging me to the gym. I haven't been in a while and I think he's ready to knock me over the head and take me there whether I want to go or not. (And not because he thinks I need to lose weight or anything, he wants the company. Oh no, he'd love it if I put on a little weight, not lost any it.)

Sharing the love.

Do you know what I love? What I love with all of my little heart (that some people think has no room for love?) Jalapeno Cream Cheese Poppers.

(What? You were expecting a person? Or maybe an activity? We're talking about me here people.)

And let me tell you, I worship at the altar that is cream cheese and jalapenos. Throw in some breading and deep frying, and I'm in it for life. I may, in fact, love it so much that I am eating it for breakfast right now. Just maybe. And just maybe, I had a little bit yesterday too. And if I didn't think my husband would have me commited for an unusual obsession with these tasty treats, I would eat it every day. Every. Day.

Instead, I buy them every once in a while and dole myself out some, little by little. For this, my arteries thank me. My hips are also grateful. Oh, and my husband; he's grateful too. You see, he hates the stuff. Anything with cream cheese in or around it makes him gag at the mere thought of it passing his lips.

But me, I am in love.

No candles, but we had flashlights.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday to you.

Happy birthday dear hubby,

Happy birthday to you.

The day started off really crappy with a Tropical Depression and the power going out at 3 AM. While most people would sleep right through a power outage, we were all up and miserable. And with less than 3 hours of sleep, I am not a woman anyone would want to be around. (I hope I can talk the kids into going to sleep for several hours this afternoon.) But I want you to know that I love you, you old man!

Special Anniversary Edition.

Today is the day, seven years ago, that B and I got married. I'll never forget the feeling of pure bliss - giddiness - that came over me.

We did not have a traditional wedding. Ours was a spur of the moment, justice of the peace wedding. We had to wait for the judge to come back from lunch (I think) and we excitedly called the few friends and family members who were close by and able to make a mad dash to the courthouse.

Then we were officially married!

But lest you think I am the type who would just run off and get married (because I'm never spontaneous, ever) know that this was the man that I already knew I would be spending the rest of my life with, married or not. This man was the one for me; he was such a good match for me.

We've been through so much in such a short time. If you were to look at that list of things that are huge 'life stressors' you would see that we have been through several of them. Some more than once. And we've come out the other side. Even when we've been on opposite sides of an issue, we've come out just fine. And I give a lot of the credit to B and his ability to know when not to have the last word; to let it go and wait for the cool-down.

B is a successful man. He's a smart man. He's an amazing father, an amazing person, and an amazing husband. (And he's big and strong, and I like that very much.) I'm very lucky to have found him.

I love you, honey. Happy Anniversary.


(And that is as romantic as I get. I'm about as romantic as a - oh, I don't know - something that's not romantic at all. It's a good thing that he knows that. Which is why he's the perfect man for me.)

My space on MySpace.

So I joined MySpace.

I talked about joining before, and then decided to go ahead and "just do it" (to quote Nike.) (Can anyone every say that without thinking of Nike?)

I'm glad I did. I've been poking around there, typing in various names of people I knew a long time ago, and also people I've just met. I've been looking at friends of friends and finding folks I hadn't even remembered I knew. (Most of them from high school. I like that I can search people from my high school, and narrow down the ages to see all the people who were there when I was.) I've seen pictures of people that look exactly the same as they did over 10 years ago, and some who look so different that I wouldn't have recognized them if not for their names. I've looked at pictures of their children and spouses (or significant others) and it's all made me smile.

I'm hesitant to ask people to be my 'friends', though, because I'm so afraid that they will not remember me. I don't want to be presumptuous and assume that they knew me as well as I knew them. And believe me, I knew who they were. I've always been a people watcher; filing away names and faces to be recalled at a later date. But I've always felt like I'm not as obvious as they are - not invisible, but just not as noticeable - and my name and face won't ring a bell for them.

(I don't really want to know what that says about my psyche. But rest assured, my self esteem is not nearly as non-existent as that last statement made it sound. In fact, it's very healthy, thank you very much. But I don't think it was very healthy back then.)

Except, well, there's this one girl who is friends with lots of people I used to know, and um... I have no frickin' idea who she is. No clue. Her name doesn't ring a bell. Her picture confuses the hell out of me because she looks nothing like anyone I've ever known. All I can think is that maybe she's undergone major plastic surgery (horrific accident? crows feet?) since then, and nobody recognizes her either. (I probably sat next to her every day for 2 years and I'll feel like an a** when I remember who she is.)

So I'm glad I joined MySpace. But if I haven't asked to be your 'friend', and you see me on there, you better ask me. I'm too afraid you won't know me, and I'm just not prepared for the rejection. Chances are, I know who you are and will be more than happy to make you my 'friend'.

(Unless you're that girl.)

For the rest of you.

I wanted to do Primus, Rage Against the Machine, Fugazi, Temple of the Dog, Soundgarden (I'm in love with Chris Cornell,) Nine Inch Nails, Fishbone, Dinosaur Jr., L7, Jane's Addiction, The Jesus and Mary Chain, REM, Alice in Chains, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, Helmet, Tool... oh what the heck, let's enjoy a little Tool - Sober...





and there are so many more good songs I would love to hear again. But I think this'll conclude my little tour down memory lane.

Gosh, now I'm all nostalgic and stuff. *sniff*

For a friend I missed very much.

U2 - One

I had Joshua Tree on vinyl. That was my first exposure to U2. And it was love at first listen. I listened to them so much, you would have thought I would grow tired of it all. But I never did. In high school, I went to see them in concert (along with Stereo MC's) in England. It was my first concert ever. And the music was so good.

I love U2. My husband, however, hates them. It's hard for me to believe I married a man who can't listen to this song, or any of their others, without cringing. But that's okay, I love him anyway. (And I hate Faster Pussycat, so we're even.) (Although you don't really hear Faster Pussycat on the radio much, so maybe we're not so even after all.)

This song reminds me of a time in my life when I felt very lonely. I was missing someone who had moved away, and I spent an excessive amount of time alone in my dorm room playing this song over and over again. (Thank goodness I'm not in high school anymore, and I no longer have such a dramatic side. Although I suspect my daughter may be even worse than I was, as she already has such a flair for the dramatics. And that frightens me very, very much.)

Not a music post.

I don't know if you're tiring of my music posts or not. If you are, I've got some bad news for you - I've got 2 more of them waiting in the wings. If you're not, well, good news - I've got 2 more of them waiting in the wings!

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Tonight I'm wearing a Crest Whitestrip. (And clothes too. Because some smart-aleck will make a comment about blogging in only a Whitestrip, and I thought I'd stop the email before it came.) Anyway, I'm assuming you know what it is I'm talking about. Unless you've lived under a rock. If that's the case, you (and your yellow teeth) can go ahead and skip this post.

I've seen the commercials that touted the Whitestrip and it's invisibility. Women were wearing them while at work; while talking on the phone; while going about their everyday routines and no one was privy to the fact that all the while they were whitening their teeth. You've seen those commercials too, right?

Well, those darn advertisers have gotten the best of me, again. Because I'm wearing one right now, and if you were here in the room with me, you sure as hell would know it. It's not invisible. It's very obvious. And it gives me a lisp.

I read the kids their bedtime story while wearing it, and they kept staring at my mouth as if something very awful was happening to it. Like my teeth would fall out at any minute, and they dare not look away lest they miss the spectacle. And, my friends, I was trying very hard to enunciate while speaking, but I swear I sounded worse than a twelve year old wearing a retainer. You should have heard the bedtime song - Thwinkle, thwinkle litthle ssssthar.

Those Crest people - they lure me in with their promises of getting whiter teeth whilst I go about my everyday life, and instead I'm reduced to sitting at my computer and typing while I anxiously await my thirty minutes to be up.

For all of you that hung out at the AYA.

Beastie Boys - Pass The Mic

Oh, the Beastie Boys *sigh* mean so much to me. I loved them back when I was in 6th grade and had Licensed to Ill and learned all the words to all the songs and thought myself such a rebel for singing along with them. And I had a huge crush on Ad Rock (don't laugh, I was young.) I loved them all the way into my high school and college years, although they kind of lost me when they started appearing on MTV spouting all that political stuff. And I wanted to be a big fan of their newest CD, but it just wasn't there for me anymore. Check Your Head, however, will always be one of my favorites because it not only had this song and So Watcha Want, but because it reminds me of all my friends down at the AYA.

(And I still have a little crush on Ad Rock.)

This is for Sara.

Ned's Atomic Dustbin - Kill Your Television



(Notice it's on VH1 Classics - my god, I'm old.)

Thank you Sara for reminding me of Ned's. I had forgotten how much I used to listen to them. I remember that they were going to play at the Corn Exchange (Cambridge, England) and we wanted to go see them so darn bad. But the only time I ever set foot into the Corn Exchange was for our graduation. And I remember that we were there on your birthday (for rehearsal?) and that when they called your name they messed up your middle name and said "Ellen". Funny - the big things I forget, and the little things I remember.

More blast-from-the-past music.

Red Hot Chili Peppers - Taste the Pain

Folks, this song is listed as my song in my high school yearbook. That's how much love I feel for it. I spent more years than I'd like to admit writing the lyrics to this song over and over again. It was also part of the mind numbingly repetetive loop of music I played on my walkman on the plane ride over to England when we moved there in 1989. And, most importantly, it is the song that reminds me of a very good friend of mine - a friend that is no longer a part of my life due to, well, stupidity, I guess. Anyway, enough of my sappy reminiscing - enjoy the song.

Children, all of us.

My husband must work with a bunch of twelve year olds. Or one twelve year old, at least. You see, he fired - oh sorry, "let go" - someone today. And after stomping around and throwing a fit like a child, this guy came back and surprised my husband with a punch in the jaw. And all I can say is, what a stupid move on that man's part. Don't you think?

(Oh, I forget that some of you do not know my husband. Well, let me tell you a little bit about him. He's a big guy. Very big. As in, he used to be a competitive power lifter. Very, very big. When he was training hard, he would bench press well over 500 hundred pounds. Even now that he's not training for competition anymore, he still benches over 400 pounds. He's built like a tank. Oh, and he used to be a bouncer at clubs during his pre-marriage days.)

So anyway, this man comes and lands a punch on my husband's jaw. And my husband picks him up over his head and puts him down on the floor. Then covers him while all the office ladies are a-twitter and someone yells, "Don't hurt him!" To which my husband replies, "If I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't be holding him down on the floor, I would be wiping blood off of my hands!" (Or something like that. I may have dramatized for effect.) And after the police arrived, everyone calmed down, and then all the twelve year olds left the building.

And now my husband has a sore jaw and he has to go take my daughter to her Kindergarten assessment. Nothing like showing up at the Kindergarten classroom after leaving a brawl.

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My son is now well into his first day of First Grade. He decided he wanted my husband to walk him to his classroom this morning, so that's what my husband did. And he reported back that my son was thrilled to be there and knew right where his classroom was. He even managed to chat up some little girl on his way down the hall (my son did, not my husband.) He's going to be a lady-killer, that boy.

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As you may have noticed, I removed my name (again) from this site. I'm incognito. So SHHHH, don't tell anyone who I am. I try my hardest to not name names and say anything malicious about anyone on here, but I figured that it would be safer if I made it a little harder for just anyone to happen upon this site. Oh, I know, people can still find it. And with my big ol' face up there, it's not hard to know it's me writing this. But, you know, it makes me feel like I'm hidden. And it's all about how I feel, right?

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I must go now. I have lint in my mouth and I have to go scrape my tongue. You see, I had a mint in my pocket and when I found it in there (Surprise! Candy!) I popped it into my mouth. And it was covered in pocket lint. Yes, evidently, I am 8 years old.

Musical Interlude.

Here's a little music for your listening pleasure. The Pixies* -

Here Comes Your Man.

*I had a love affair with the Pixies when I was in high school that lasted for several years. (No, not a real one - did you actually get a look at those guys!? Man, what kind of girl do you think I am?) This song still makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside just from the memories.

Don't remember this song? Well, that's okay. I'll forgive you just this once. But it really is a classic and I highly recommend the CD (or tape, which is what I had back in the day.)

Not-Really-Anything (the whole bunch of it version)

And now, a whole bunch of not-really-anything for your day!

(are you excited? even just a little? oh c'mon, humor me.)

My son's doctor's appointment went well yesterday. He followed all instructions (stand on one foot, hop up and down, push against me, etc...) and then had to give a urine sample. He didn't understand why they needed a urine sample. "You want to see my pee-pee? It's yellow! It's fine!" And after a hilarious series of events in the little boys room, some of which included my husband yelling, "That's enough! Stop! Stop! Stop!" they returned the sample cup to the doctor triumphantly. And my son said, "See? Like I told you, it's yellow."

(And for those of you interested, (mainly family members, I'm sure,) the doctor gave us a stronger cream for his eczema and told us to give him an allergy pill every day. Even if the airborne allergens aren't bothering him per se, the allergy pill will help stop his itching. And also, we have to use all fragrance free detergents and soaps for him. Which I should have been doing anyway, really, but I just love the smell of freshly laundered clothes - preferably in Clean Breeze. But now I've emptied his dresser and am doing load after load of laundry in the stinky fragrance-free detergent. (My clothes, however, are still being washed in the old stuff because I can only sacrifice so much.))

(oooh, I used double parentheses there - and bad grammar. doesn't it make you kind of twitch, how I butcher the English language repeatedly?)

We went to orientation last night for my son's first grade class. We met his teacher, who is teaching for the first time this year. Oh, she's volunteered in schools and been a teacher's assistant before, but to have my son (and therefore, me) for her first year as a teacher is really unfortunate for her. You might want to send some good vibes her way. She might need them tomorrow on the first day of school.

That's right, tomorrow, I send my son back to school. He's going to be a big kid now. At least, that's what he's told me. He even gets to use the computer lab. He's excited. I haven't told him yet that all the computer work will not include Star Wars Battlefront or anything nearly as fun. I figure I'll just let him find out on his own. I hope it doesn't crush his spirit.

And my daughter - the one who I really would like to send to school tomorrow because she is driving me crazy - isn't starting until after Labor Day. Yeah, they'll attend the same school, but the kindergarteners start later. Sucks for her. She wants to go so badly, and has to watch her brother go and hear all about his day when he gets home. I keep telling her that patience is a virtue. She thinks I'm full of crap.

So today will be spent labeling various school supplies, and washing and folding mountains of clothes and towels and washcloths. Good times.

I'm not bitter and he's going to the doctor.

Apparently yesterday, when I posted, I came off as a little bitter. I don't know where in the world that idea came from (I plead the Fifth.) But no worries, I'm not really bitter. Nor am I really that jealous. I just feel it was a little bit unfair, and I felt like a good complaining was in order. No need to fear for my husband's well being. (Except for what all that restaurant food will do to his arteries. That you should fear.)

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Today my son is going to the doctor. He's going to get his skin checked out. He has eczema (thanks to my lovely genes) and he has it bad on his face and fingers. Which, really, if you're going to have something that looks like a communicable disease (which, it is not cummunicable, people, just looks like it,) is it really necessary to have it on the most visible parts of your body? I mean, really. The boy deserves a break, if you ask me. Oh wait, was I talking about the injustice of my son's skin condition? Um, no... oh yeah, I was talking about him going to the doctor. Anyway, my husband is going to take him to the doctor. This'll be a first, ya'll.

I've compiled a note card - cliff's notes, if you will - of the different lotions and medications my son is using. I've listed the questions I would ask if I were there. And I'm sending the boys off with a prayer.

Actually, I think it'll be better that my husband is the one taking my son. When I go I have a tendency to tell the doctor what is wrong, instead of vice versa. I have a tendency to be a little bit pushy. A teensy bit pushy. Oh, okay, a lot pushy. And the doctor barely gets a word in edgewise. Then I'm sure they mark my children's chart with a notation or some sort of color code they have adopted just for people like me. You know, something that says, This woman is a pushy lady and is a know-it-all who will not listen to you. And as a result my children do not receive the quality of care they deserve. But with my husband going, they will just mark the kids' chart with a code that says, This is a big motherf*cker who will break us into tiny pieces if we mess up his children's care, so make sure you do well.

And I think that's much more effective, don't you?

Wanting some cheese to go with my whine.

I have a wonderful husband. He's a good man and a great father. He's also hilarious and fun to be around. He thinks I'm beautiful and gives me compliments all the time. Also, he's smart and a hard worker.

But...

(And you knew that there would be a but, didn't you?)

I have one thing that I would like to complain about today: It's that he is all for our new thrifty lifestyle, and says with great conviction that he's tired of eating out and is happy to be eating at home more when in fact he eats at various yummy restaurants for lunch often. Yummy restaurants! Lunch! Often! While I sit at home and eat whatever the kids don't finish. (And this happens more than I'd like to admit.)

I think to myself, sure, you don't mind eating at home for supper because you went out for Chinese food for lunch. Or Mexican. Or Mongolian barbecue. And then I become very bitter.

Now, before you think he's a very bad man and spending all of our food budget on lunches out, let me say that most of the time he's not buying these lunches. Yesterday, for instance, he was taken to a Chinese restaurant by a sales rep. (He's lucky like that - people want him to do business with them and court him by feeding him good food and giving him mugs at Christmas time.)

But still, I'm bitter. And I'm rambling. Because I'm bitter. And now I'm going into the kitchen to heat up a box of Crab Rangoon that I bought at WalMart last night and I'm going to enjoy it, dammit, because it's all I have. All my bitter little heart has. Dammit.



(Love you Honey!)

Edited to add: My husband called me this afternoon after reading this - he asked if he needed to take me out to eat tonight. But that would totally defeat the purpose. We are not eating out as much to try and keep from spending money. And if we went out to eat, what would I have to complain about on here?!? (Except for spending the money, of course.)

Spending way too much time obsessing.

It's the time of year that makes me drool. Drool longingly for things. Things I want to buy, and never end up buying.

No, I'm not talking about wanting cars or houses or fabulously expensive jewelry. I'm talking about clothes.

I should tell you that I'm not the clothes horse type. I don't have a closet full of clothes for every day of the year. In fact, I have a closet that consists mainly of t-shirts. I'm definitely not a fashion plate. But once the fall clothes start appearing in the stores and catalogs, I become a woman obsessed.

I am obsessed with the feel of long pants, and sumptuous sweaters. Crisp white shirts and soft denim. I page through catalogs repeatedly and read descriptions of clothes I would never wear in every day life. I go online and view the newest additions, gazing longingly at black wool trousers with an amazing drape. I check on inseam lengths (my legs are impossibly short) and find my size. I imagine what shoes I would buy with what pants, and even imagine myself at the perfect "event" for each outfit. I long for the donegal wool blazer in a moss green color (which brings out the red in my hair) and the perfect khaki pants. I have made it my mission to find the best fitting pair of jeans among the hundreds of pairs in existence (maybe not hundreds, but thousands, millions even.)

When I do find the perfect clothes, do I buy them? No. I mentally compile a list of "must-haves" and then I move on. I think the thrill is in the hunt for me. Whenever I find something I absolutely, positively must have and I buy it, it is never as wonderful in reality as it is in my head. So I go with the jeans that fit pretty well and the t-shirt that is comfortable. I stick with the casual button down shirt and khakis in size extra short. Because while I'm in love with the classic clothes at Ann Taylor, I'm much more of an Eddie Bauer kind of girl.

And I anxiously await the end of summer the next year, when they roll out the newest fall clothing and I can begin to drool all over again.

A little nervous laughter for your day.

Recently, ha ha, we became a little, ha ha ha ha, overdrawn on our checking account. Ha ha ha ha ha... *ahem*

Okay, so that was nervous laughter, not the Ha! kind of laughter I'd like it to be. Because it's true. We were overdrawn.

We used our debit card to pay for everything. Groceries, bill payments, gas, meals at McDonald's, stops at the Quick Stop for Gatorade... everything. And due to a serious math error, we kept on using the debit card even when there was no more money in our bank account. And thankfully, our bank kept on honoring our overdrawn purchases. So we didn't end up on anybody's Must Pay Cash list. Thanks for that, BB&T.

And no thanks, BB&T*, for charging us $35 a pop every time you honored our debits. You see, some of those debits were for, like, $1.50 and less. So my husband drank a $36.50 bottle of Gatorade. And the kids ate McDonald's Happy Meals that cost us well over $40.00.

In the end, we were actually overdrawn for very little. I mean, our actual purchases were not that much, and I could have put a little bit of cash into the account to cover the amount. But, but, the bank had charged us so much, there was no way my paycheck could cover the amount that our account was now in the negative. I mean, we had charges that would make you weep. (They may have made me weep just a little.)

But don't worry, this is not a plea for financial help. Once my husband's paycheck was direct deposited to the account, everything was back in the black. And we learned a very serious lesson. We learned not to overdraw our account, ever again. We also learned that we must ditch the debit cards and begin carrying cash. (Very little cash, for you would be robbers out there. Very little cash.)

The whole debacle did cost us a fortune, though. And during a time when we have lots of medical bills, and school supplies that cost me over $60.00 to get (not including backpacks and clothes and shoes, just actual supplies,) the fortune it cost us could not come at a worse time. But we're on a strict cash budget, and we're doing well with it.

Paying cash for everything leaves me with a very satisfied feeling. It means I don't have to check the checking account online, obsessively, until everything has cleared and breathe a sigh of relief when it finally does clear. It has a finality to it. It's done, paid for, and now we can move on. (Although it is very unsatisfying when I only have two bills left, and they are not bills of large denominations.)

Oh, somewhere along the way I had a point to this whole post. I'm not exactly sure what it was, though. So, um, I think I just shared too much information with you for no real reason at all. Except to tell you that I am not BB&T's biggest fan, and I am very satisfied when I pay with cash. But that's reason enough, isn't it?



*BB&T is a large bank here in the South. I'm sure they have lots of people who love banking with them, but we are not some of those people. They didn't tell us about their overdraft protection coverage that could have saved us a ton of money until after we had already paid them a ton of money. Also, they have a weird way of doing their online banking that does not let you see pending transactions, and posts the cleared transactions 2 days after they have cleared. So it makes it impossible to keep up with your checking account online. But please don't get mad at me, BB&T, because if you sue me for slander, I will not have any money to give you. You already have the equivalent of my car payment. And maybe even my mortgage payment too.

Eating well.

I've been asked how my 'healthy eating' is going. And it's, well, going, um, okay, I guess. I feel like I need to clarify the 'healthy eating' thing. I'm not really eating nuts and berries, or non-fat, preservative-free fare. More like, I'm trying to eat a little better and not eat as much junk. (Notice I said as much junk, not no junk at all.)

And that part is going well. I still have quite a sweet tooth, but I've managed to keep from eating sweets morning, noon and night. Also, we've cut back on our trips to McDonalds and other fast food establishments. Instead, we stocked up on hotdogs and ramen noodles for those night we don't have enough time to cook. And while that's not healthy food by any means, it certainly is a little better for you than a Big Mac and large fries. I also baked two chickens on Monday, and we're heating up chicken as needed.

On a totally unrelated side note, anyone want a chicken sandwich? I've got a little bit of extra chicken here and I'm getting a little sick of eating chicken for lunch and chicken for dinner and chicken in between. (How many times can I work the word chicken into a sentence? A lot, apparantly.)

But I have lost 5 pounds and that makes me happy, especially since I haven't been to the gym in like 2 weeks and I'm not trying to lose weight. (My husband has lost more, but I'm not holding that against him.)

So, you know, that's how the healthy eating is going.

Now I must go because the three year old bit my son. And left big old teeth marks. And I'm writing about it after I've put an ice pack on my son's arm and the offender is in time-out (which is really pissing him off and made him try to bite me.) We're having some fun now!

The influence of planets.

The planets must be out of alignment today. That's the only reason I can think of for all of the kids here today to be this whiney.

The three year old I babysit has just started to wear underwear during the day. And he's been doing wonderfully. But today... today he pooped in his pants. And then he peed in his pants. And I'm remembering how much I hated cleaning poop out of children's underwear. (Lucky me, I just flush what I can and then put the soiled clothes into a plastic bag for his parents. Not so lucky for his parents.)

The soon-to-be one year old I babysit has discovered that the best way to rid his highchair tray of food is to throw it overboard. Sometimes he just lets the little pieces of food drop over the side. Sometimes he practices his fastball, and pitches the food across the room. And I'm remembering how much I loved having a dog around to clean up the floor. (Too bad the dog isn't here anymore.)

My son speaks in a constant whine. And if I didn't know any better I'd say he has a hearing problem because he speaks so loudly and ignores me. But I know better. He's just a loud boy.

My daughter is a know-it-all today. And, really, that's not unlike most days. Except for today she's an extra-annoying know-it-all. (That particular breed of know-it-all makes semi-regular appearances around here.)

And, well, it seems that I'm whiney today too.

Must be the planets.

School supplies.

Yesterday we went shopping for some new school clothes.

Before we set out on our mad dash through various children's clothing stores to fight the throngs of people, I had a mental list of items I wanted to get for the kids. Jacket for my son, jeans and pants for both of them (enough to make it through a week, at least) and athletic shoes for both too. The rest, I figured, we could get as needed. They are growing so fast, I'm afraid to get too many things ahead of time. By the time they need the long sleeve shirts and coats, they may just be a full size larger.

Anyway, off we went to the store. And off my son went to whining. His head hurt; he couldn't walk. And my daughter, she wanted to stay with dad outside the store; she didn't want to try on the jacket for her brother. (It's wonderful that they wear the same size. I just have to bring one child along and have him/her try on the clothes. Of course, neither of them is too crazy about trying on clothes for the opposite sex. But I'll pay for their therapy bills later, so they can just hush.)

And what did we get on our trip? A Jacket. And a pair of pants for my son. (Just one pair.) And athletic shoes for my son too. My daughter? She didn't find anything that she needed, except for these:

And everyone knows a little girl absolutely needs a pair of pink cowboy boots. As for all those other things she needs for school, they pale in comparison. (And I guess I need to go back to the store.)

On top of my lap.

Guess where I'm typing this from!

My kitchen table! Via a laptop. Laptop. Yippee!

It was a freebie. An old laptop that is missing the R button. (But it still works, as you can plainly see.) And it makes me oh so happy.

Oh, but also... The screen is messed up a little so that you can't read the type if it's normal sized. So I've got it set up so the type is at 150%. Which, if you've ever done that to you computer, you know is really f*cking big. I've got to scroll all over the place just to read the weather. But did I mention that it was free?!?

(Dear Santa, I'd like to add New Laptop to the list of things I want but don't really need. You can put it right below Maid Service, and immediately above Sleep Number Bed. Thank you.)

So, I'm off to the store to buy a laptop bag and several matching outfits that say, 'I need to carry this laptop with me at all times because I'm a very important person.'

(Not really, but a girl can dream, can't she?) *sigh*

Picture pages, picture pages, lots of fun with picture pages...

Yesterday's post was such a long, drawn out post - sorry for that. So for today, I give you some pictures (woo-hoo!). They're old, but they're two of my favorites.

(You can almost hear her do that little clicking sound with her mouth to go along with that wink.)

(And that's my boy, he's a sweetie pie. He looks so young in this picture.)

The update you've been waiting for (if you were one of the people who emailed me and asked me to tell you what the heck happened.)

I've been trying to find the motivation to sit down here and write about our adventure at the hospital. I know that I left some people hanging on my last post, never even saying whether or not my husband was home, safe and sound. Well, I apologize. I've been out of my routine, and I'm still trying to get the details from the past few days straight in my head. He is home. (Actually, he's at work right now.) So don't worry, all's well.

I think it's all best described in a timeline - otherwise, my paragraphs would be full of 'and then this happened, and then this, then this...'

Monday, August 7
4:30 am - We get up and get a shower. Hubby's up before the alarm clock because he couldn't sleep at all the night before.

5:30 am - Leave the house and start the drive to the hospital. I have a cup of coffee in a travel mug and some peanut butter crackers in my purse. But I don't eat them because hubby is not allowed to eat anything before the surgery. I do, however, drink the coffee because it still feels like the middle of the damn night!

6:15 am - Arrive at hospital and check in at the required time on the dot. I'm proud that we're actually on time for once. I think it has to do with the fact that we didn't have the kids with us. (They are at home with Gran - Hubby's mom.) We go from one waiting room to another, and hubby fills out various forms and such. I think about the peanut butter crackers in my purse, and my mouth waters. But I resist. (I'm strong like that.)

7:00 am - The nurse that is going to prep him for surgery comes for him and brings us to a 'prep' area (I have no idea what's it's actually called back there.) She brings us to a room (more like a curtained area) and gives him a gown to change into. (This room is also where all of your dignity is stripped from you, not just your clothes.) She then leaves and tells us she'll be right back. Which, in hospital terms, means she'll be back eventually. The anesthesiologist comes in to check hubby. Hubby tells the man he has Sleep Apnea (important detail, here) and the guy does not say that will be a problem in any way. The nurse comes back and starts hubby on an IV (which is enough to start a panic attack for him, but he was strong, and resists.) She also gives him a shot to 'take the edge off of any anxiety' and he reports back that it does not seem to be taking any edge off at all. He's still anxious.

8:00 am - I'm told they are going to 'take him on back', and shown on a map how to get to the waiting room. I have to consult the map several times on my way to finding the waiting room. Evidently, it's supposed to be easy to get there. It's not for me. Once there, I find a seat and take out the book I brought (for the procedure that's supposed to last about an hour or so) and break out my peanut butter crackers. It's then that I notice a sign that tells people not to eat in the waiting room. I eat 2 crackers anyway. But then I put them away, because I'm afraid I'll get thrown out of the waiting room for excessive cracker eating.

8:25 am - The doctor comes into the waiting room looking for me. I'm nervous. Then I wonder if it's over already, and I get happy. Then he looks at me with serious eyes. I'm nervous again. He says they are going to have to keep hubby overnight. He says it has to do with his sleep apnea and that he'll need his CPAP machine. Which means I'll need to go home and get it. All I can think is, 'Man, hubby's not going to like this. He hates the hospital.' So I ask the doctor is hubby knows he's going to have to stay. Doctor says, "Yes, he knows, and he's not happy." Doctor kindly offers to take my cell phone number and call me when the procedure is over, because now I'll be in the car heading home for his CPAP machine instead of waiting in the waiting room for any news. Man, I think, this sucks.

9:00 am - I am lost. I am driving around the beltline, and I do not recognize anything. I am silently thanking my dear hubby for filling up my gas tank right before we arrived at the hospital that morning because I surely would have run out of gas otherwise. I call my mother-in-law at home and ask her if she knows where in the heck I am. Luckily, she knows that I am heading in the wrong direction. So I turn around.

9:45 am - I am now almost home. And the doctor calls to tell me they got the kidney stone. Hubby is in recovery. The stone was 8mm big, and they had to laser it to break it up and then remove all the pieces. And he tells me a few other details that I will not share with you to spare hubby's dignity. But let's just say, um, they didn't cut into him, they went into him in a very invasive way, and there were special instructions.

10:00 am - I am back on the road after stopping at home and packing a few things and kissing my kids (who are having fun with Gran.) I am hurrying because I think they'll need his CPAP machine for him in recovery. I want him to be able to breathe!

10:35 am - I arrive at the hospital and verify the fact that I cannot park in parking garages. It takes me two tries to park in a choice spot before I just say to heck with it and decide to park way up at the top where there are lots of empty spaces.

10:40 am - I curse the fact that I parked so far away and now have to lug the heavy bag I packed down three flights of stairs. Darn parking garage and it's tiny little parking spaces!

10:50 am - Arrive back at waiting room and hurriedly tell volunteer that I have the CPAP machine my hubby so desperately needed. She calls recovery and says he doesn't need it right now, and that I can wait until he's given a room. I think some very bad words, and park myself right next to her desk so she doesn't forget about me. And I wait, and wait, and wait.

12:45 pm - The doctor comes in to give a report to another family and sees me waiting there. He asks if I have hubby's machine. The he goes and calls Recovery himself to make sure hubby doesn't need the machine. Hubby doesn't, and I wait, again.

1:00 pm - I'm told I can go back to his room. I'm told he's in ICU. As in, Intensive Care Unit. I didn't know he was there. I thought he was going to be put into a regular old room. Now I'm worried. I go into his room, which really isn't much of a room. It's got three walls, and a curtain forms the other wall. The nurses desk faces the bed. Hubby's in the bed hooked up to all kinds of machines. He's got oxygen going into his nose. And if he hadn't been awake and talking, I would have been scared to death to see him in there like that. But he is awake, and talking, and mad as hell about having to be kept overnight.

(This is the part of the story I was not privy to until later: when they wheeled him back into the operating room, the anesthesiologist told him they would do a spinal (epidural) instead of putting him under. Because of his sleep apnea, he said. But what they didn't know was that my dear hubby was nervous as heck about them operating on him. So hubby told them if they were going to be doing what they were going to be doing to him, they would have to put him under. There was no way he would let them otherwise. So they put him under. And they had trouble with a breathing tube - his throat had such a tiny airway, they couldn't get the breathing tube into it. So they brought in a special tube. It didn't go in easily either. Which meant they had to shove. And for a while they had to keep him alive by manually giving him oxygen with one of those bags you squeeze (I have no idea what they're called.) Which is why he ended up in ICU. They were worried the effects of the anesthesia would cause his airways to relax to the point that no air would be able to get in at all. Which is what happened while he was on the operating table.)

1:00 - 6:30 pm - We watch way too much A&E on TV - including Dog the Bounty Hunter and Flip This House. (None or which I would recommend to anyone.) Hubby has a severe sore throat (from them shoving a tube down it) and he is sore. But mostly, he's mad that he has to be there hooked up to so many machines when he was supposed to just go in for an hour or so and them go home. He's unable to walk around because of the pulse/oxygen monitor, oxygen tube, IV and EKG. He finally talks the nurse into removing the oxygen. And she's such a champion for him, she calls around to all the doctors to see if they can remove some of the other tubes too. She's successful in getting the IV tube taken off, but he has to keep the needle in his hand, just in case. Hubby argues (nicely, not belligerently) with various doctors to try and get himself discharged, but to no avail. One doctor even sends in reinforcements to argue her case. I head to the little cafe down the hall to get food and drink. I find muffins and coffee. Which is much better that nothing, but still not much sustenance. I bring them back to ICU and notice a sign on the door that says no food or drink allowed. I go in anyway. Heck, I've only had 2 peanut butter crackers all day, and at this point I really don't care if I'm breaking any rules. So I savor my muffin (which is dry) and my latte (which I should have gotten in a bigger size.) And then, after sitting in the world's most uncomfortable chair for a very long time, I have to go. In ICU they are only allowed visitors for 15 - 20 minutes. I've obviously been there for much longer (and brought in contraband food, bad me) but now my time is up. It's shift change time and they won't allow anyone to be there. Also, I'm exhausted, and there are kids and Gran waiting for me at home. So I kiss hubby goodbye, and go. And I cry. Because he seems fine, but he's still in ICU and that means they think something bad could happen at any time, otherwise they would have put him in a regular old room. I hope nothing bad happens while I'm not there.

7:00 pm - I arrive home without getting lost. The kids and Gran are out at the store, and it feels so lonely in the house. I go get a shower and realize that that was the longest I have ever been away from my children. And I miss them so. I get them to bed and all tucked in. Hubby calls from the hospital (illegally using a phone that's only supposed to be used for him to order food, but his nurses have told him they'll look the other way) and he sings Itsy Bitsy Spider and tells the kids goodnight. I tell him that instead of being there when visiting hours start in the morning, I plan on coming early. So if they release him early, I'll be there, waiting in the waiting room and he doesn't have to be there any longer than necessary. I want him home. He wants to be home.

8:30 pm - I fall exhaustedly into bed, and sleep pretty soundly, considering.

Tuesday, August 8th
I'll spare you the timeline now, because, really, it's uneventful from here. I went to the hospital early, and he was released early. He didn't sleep but for 3 hours the previous night, and is exhausted. He refuses to be wheeled out in a wheelchair, and his nurse (who I love, by the way) finally gives in and compromises with him. He can walk out if only if a staff member walks him out. So that's what happens. And he arrives home, finally, a day late from his outpatient surgery which turned into a near death experience, and a lot sore.

Homecoming (?)

Well... where do I start?

The routine outpatient surgery that my husband went in for yesterday ended up being a night in the ICU.

As far as I know, everything went fine last night, and he can be released this morning. So I'm headed up there to camp out in the horrible, cramped waiting room and bring him home as soon as they say he can go.

The good news is, he is kidney stone-less at the moment. (We're going to try our hardest to keep him that way, but sometimes nature has a different idea.)

Keep your fingers crossed for a speedy return home for him - and hope I don't get myself turned around (or just darn lost) in the city on my way home (like I did yesterday.)

Because all the self pity embarasses me.

I just deleted a post that went a little like this: whine, whine, whine, and a little more whine.

So if you read it, well, sorry. That was written by a woman who just needed to be hit upside the head and told to get over herself. (And that's what I did.)

If you didn't read it, good for you. It was enough to make you throw up a little bit in your mouth because of all the silly self pity and whining.

Enjoy your weekend.

She's friendly.

My daughter has been working on writing sentences this summer. She tells me the sentence she wants to write, and I write the words in no particular order. Then she pieces them together to form sentences. These are the words I wrote for her the other night:

loves
even
me
if
I
everybody
them
like
don't

Guess what sentence she wanted to make.

"Everybody loves me even if I don't like them."

I think that tells you a lot about my daughter. She's humble. And kind.

Out of the loop.

So... I just found out some news. School here doesn't start the 6th of September, like I thought. Instead, it starts the 25th of August. I'm just sitting here thinking, huh, how did I not know that?

But in my defense, let me back up a minute and tell you why I thought it would be September before I gleefully sent my precious little ones out of my house! Oh, I mean, back to school. When I registered my daughter for Kindergarten, they told me her fist day would be either September 6th or 7th. (Half went one day, the other half went the next.) So being the queen of assumptions that I am, (and, no, you don't have to tell me the ass before u and me thing, thank you) I just assumed the first day of school is the 6th. Wouldn't you?

Well, what they didn't tell me was that the kindergarteners start later than everyone else. Huh.

Also, what they did not tell me when they gave out all the information regarding the early pick up on the last day of school was, wait for it... the date of the first day of school in the fall. It would seem to me that a simple, "Have a great summer and we'll see you again on the 25th of August!" would have been in order here. It would seem...

So, am I the only one who didn't know? Also, am I the only one who feels so out of the loop? I have no idea what the protocols are for starting school, registering, and getting supplies. I do not know when we find out which teacher my kids have and what supplies to send them with on the first day. I just seem to have no idea, period.

I guess I'll have to break down and call the school. Then, I'll sound like a woman who is totally unfit to be a mother when I ask things like, oh, for instance, where do I drop them off at and when's the latest I can pick them up.

TMI

Somewhere along the way, my husband and I decided that we would make an effort to not have our children worry about money. As in, we would not ever let them be a part of the 'we don't have enough money for this or that so that's why you can't have that/go there, etc...'

Now, we are not dirt poor (although it feels that way sometimes) and we are not filthy rich either. We live a comfortable life in a nice house in a nice neighborhood and have a nice car. Nothing too big, nor too extravagant, but just, well, nice.

But in this world there comes the dreaded 'unexpected expenses' and we don't have a wad of money lying around to use for such things. We just live life with the 'hope it doesn't get too bad' attitude. And so far, although it has been bad at times, it's never been 'too bad'. We've made it through all sorts of situations that could have been financially and emotionally devistating, yet through some weird twist of fate (and a lot of wishing and hoping,) it never ruined us (financially or emotionally.)

This is one of those times when we are hit with a few 'unexpected expenses'. And because of said expenses, I have had to stop letting the kids go with a babysitter twice a week. (And I know some of you are going, no big deal!) To me, however, it is a big deal. The kids Loved (with a capital L) going with Little T and his mom. They went to the movies, the library, the pool, and to great playgrounds. They looked forward to time away from the little ones I babysit, and time to do big kid stuff.

I had to dissapoint them, and it makes me sad.

(Because I like to spoil them and make them happy. That makes me happy.)

My daughter asked me today why they weren't going with Little T and his mom. I gave her some fluff answer about it being close to the end of the summer and we had to work on reading and other pre-school kind of things. I could tell by the look she gave me that she really didn't buy my answer. Thank goodness she didn't ask any more questions, though, because the next words out of my mouth would have been, "Because we can't afford it right now!"

And that, that, my friends, would have gone against everything my husband and I agreed upon.

(And my husband is of the firm belief that talking about this is sharing too much information, so, um, let's not talk about it anymore. Okay? Okay.)

I just thought I'd share.

This is what is on my mind:

• My husband has to go in for surgery on Monday. Outpatient, but surgery all the same.
• The temperature outside is hitting well above 100 degrees (literally, and also in 'real feel') and will be doing so for the next week or so, causing my air conditioner to run constantly.
• Although it is August, school still doesn't start here for over a month. The kids are getting bored and I am getting tired.
• The heat. Did I mention the heat?
• The kids will need school supplies, clothes, etc...
• Surgery. Have I mentioned surgery?
• The cost of all of the above is enough to make my head pop right off of my body, and go spinning into outer space.