My NewYear's Resolution

I have never been one for New Year's Resolution.  Early in life I determined that changing behavior was hard, really hard.  Whether it is losing weight, getting to the gym, or not yelling at your kids.

Creating a new habit, shifting a paradigm, eliminating the negative is like herding cats, dressing jello, or raising children.  Damn hard.  Not impossible but when you are given the wrong tools to begin with it's more difficult than putting together a bookshelf from IKEA with a standard screwdriver.

This year has to be different.  Something has to change.  I know from experience the only person that I can change is myself.  That's a tough enough job.  I'm closing in on 40 and have not had very good luck changing my ways, what's so different about a New Year's Resolution?

The only thing that I can figure is that with a new year comes a fresh outlook, a new beginning, a do over.  Honestly, the New Year has always made me depressed.  Just as television recaps the tragedies of the past year so do I recap my life and all the failed attempts, missteps, and nasty big mistakes.  (Like trying to take on a ref at my son's basketball game)

I know it could be something different, I've met people who always see the glass as half full.  My trouble, whether wiring or parenting, I've never been one to see the sunny side of the street.  So, is all the yelling, fighting, and turmoil in my house my fault? Will the hard work of changing my habits, shifting my paradigm, and eliminating all the negative - give me the big pay-off I am looking for? Or is it hard wired? Am I swimming upstream?

My New Years Resolutions:
To see the glass as half full, even when the juice is running across the table.
To walk on the sunny side of the street, even when my companions are not.
To find humor in the mundane, even if it is trying to brush a four-year-olds teeth.
To see the positive of every situation, even when we are all screaming and yelling at each other -
because at least we are all healthy enough to scream!

HAVE A HAPPY AND PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR!!

twas the night before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Every creature was stirring including the mouse.

The stocking were flung by a chimney not glowing,
in hopes that St. Nicholas would fill overflowing.

The children weren't nestled no one went off to bed,
because of the sugar they'd stuffed in their head.

With Pa on his mountain bike and me in the Kitchen,
there was chaos galore and no shortage of bitchin'.

When out in the playroom there arose such a clatter,
I sprung into action to see what was the matter.

Away to the playroom I flew like a lion,
tore the children apart to see both were cryin'.

When what to my horror do my eyes suddenly see,
all the damn presents from under the tree.

With two children who look like the cat and canary,
I knew there was no saving this, quite the contrary.

Oh Dasher, Oh Dancer, Fricking Prancer and Vixen,
Damn Comet and Cupid, stupid Donner and Blitzen!

And then like a twinkling, I heard in my head,
a child rearing expert and what they had said.

I drew in a breath and was turning around,
when one socked the other and knocked him straight down.

His eyes, glazed over, his nose looking red,
his cheeks, they were flushed, there's a bump on his head.

His droll little mouth was curled down like a bow,
and his skin looked ashen now as white as the snow.

My once chubby and plump little cherub of boy,
was starting to scream to give back the toy!

We spoke not a word but went straight to time out.
And I drank the last wine and had a good pout.

Then sticking his finger up into his nose,
the child pulled out a booger and then he arose-

"Mom, it's a big one!" then gave a low whistle
his brother admired more than guns, tanks, and missile.

And I heard myself say as I walked out of sight,
Merry Christmas you all, I'm out-Peace, Good Night!

Grinch dog

If you have not read the Blog titled My kind of family...that will give you the background.  My friend went away for the weekend with her family and her brother (the uncle with the stars on his head) took care of the dog and this is what she came back to find.

He dyed her beloved golden doodle green.  This was the best of the picture to show just how green it was, cause it was very green.  Her only revenge, the pictures of his bathroom after this act.

I don't even want to know why the toilet is green......

Note to my loyal followers

Sounds like a religious cult....My seven-year-old is currently playing his Saturday Basketball game and I am sitting at home in my robe typing this!!  Can't scream at the ref from here ;-))  Just please Santa, let that child win.

Update on sports...

And I wonder why some of the dad's coaching their kids sports teach them to play dirty?
read on....

Jet's coach Sal Alosi's devious act was not a coincidence

By MJD

Sal Alosi, the New York Jets coach who tripped Miami player Nolan Carroll(notes) in the third quarter of the Dolphins’ 10-6 win last Sunday, didn't "just happen" to be there.

The Jets have discovered that he strategically ordered players to "form a wall" in that specific place, and have now changed Alosi's suspension from "rest of the season" to "indefinite." Here's the play:  If you'll take his word for it, Jets general manager Mike Tannenbaum said today that neither head coach Rex Ryan or special teams coach Mike Westhoff were involved in the plan.

“As we continued our investigation, we discovered some new information,” Tannenbaum said in a conference call from the NFL owners meetings in Dallas, “and the players at the Miami game were instructed by Sal to stand where they were to force the gunner in the game to run around them.”

To force the gunner to run around them, or to give them an opportunity to trip the gunner? It seems a little unlikely that the gunner would go all the way around them. Tripping him, as we all saw on Sunday, isn't all that far-fetched. That actually happened.

Tight end Jeff Cumberland(notes), who was inactive Sunday, said it was nothing new for the players to line up next to each other as they did against the Dolphins, according to AP.

"Since the beginning of the year, we’ve been instructed to line up behind the (white) line,” he said, adding that it was only Alosi who has told them to do so."

As far as further punishment goes, Tannenbaum says the Jets are still gathering information and that "all options are on the table." A lot of people felt like Alosi should've been fired for acting so recklessly to begin with. Now that there's evidence pointing to this being a premeditated plan, things seem even worse.

The Jets interviewed the players who were standing near Alosi, but will not take any action against them. “This is just about Sal,” Tannenbaum said.

Sports of all sorts...

Let me preface this by saying- I am the mom of two boys who has never played a team sport.  I danced.  Sounds girly, but really I think when I started it was all about the recital.  I saw the cool costumes, the stage, the lights, and thought, YES!  I didn't know that I would have to take lessons for 9 months to get there.  But I stuck with it because after 7 years of watching the bigger girls in the opening number and the ballet, I wanted my turn.  It was not as climactic as I expected I have to say.

So last Saturday at my seven-year-old's basketball game I lost my friggin' mind and stomped across the court and told the ref he wasn't calling a fair game.  To my defense, I waited until they were making a substitution or something so it's not like I plowed down three kids to cross the court.  Also, I did not cuss or raise my voice or argue when the ref said,"Get off my court NOW!"  I had simply stated what I felt and walked away.

I know it was wrong, it was horribly wrong! My husband was miffed, mortified, and mad.  My husband is the sports star.  He tells me all the time to keep my mouth shut.  My problem I think, I was not in a team sport.  I didn't have the experience of practising, playing, and sometimes learning that life is not fair.  To me, it's totally about being fair, that's a ref's job.  Impartially judging the game according to the rules and making everyone stick to them - even my son.

It's not even all about winning, we tell our son that all the time and after a game ask him what he's learned.  But that's just it! After 5 sports season my son's never ever won a game.  Not one.  How long is he going to stay positive and interested in sports when he's never had a winning experience? 

Then again, what do I know? A shuffle ball change, a grand jete, and the infamous Solid Gold jazz hands.  That is certainly not going to help my son on the basketball court especially with the ref's.  So my neighbor has suggested Tootsie Roll Pops - How many licks does it take to get to the end of a basketball game?

Warning - Mature Content

I am convinced that 50% of all marriages fail, not because of money problems - but sex.  Step aside Mr. Masters and take your Johnson!  Hustle this Larry! Playboy - more like PlayGramps it's just gross!  They're already wrinkled but that one has to look like a raisin by now.

Must everything revolve around their man parts?  I have never heard a women say, God I just need to get laid.  I've never heard of a restaurant that serves cheap alcohol and crappy food but the redeeming factor is well hung men in a Speedo.  Don't even get me started on adult films, why even bother watching, when have you ever heard of a male porn star - ever?

To be fair, when we women get together we do talk about our bodies, and what is falling apart or sagging now that we've had children.  How do you feel good having sex when you no longer feel good getting dressed in front of a mirror.  I used to buy a bra based on how cute it looked on me, not anymore.  After nursing two children I just pray for a bra that can take what now looks like two pathetically empty crepes and turn it into something that resembles a B cup.  And don't get me started on my derriere, I think Victoria's Secret is she's keeping the wonder underpants for herself.

Isn't it bad enough that men can not think without their slong? No! They have to talk to it, consult it, inquire like it is the most important person in the relationship.  I have never felt the need to talk with my vajay-jay.  I think that if I were to ask my female parts what they need the answer would be simple - more sleep!

On a serious note

I have literally not turned on Oprah since my now seven-year-old was an infant and napping at 4:00 p.m..

By divine intervention I turned on Oprah today and saw Michelle Rhee, former Washington D.C. Public School Chancellor announced her next job - Studentsfirst.org.

She has vowed to do for America's schools what she did for Washington, D.C Public Schools.  If you are passionate about making our children #1 in the world - please visit the website and join the movement today.  In my opinion there is no greater gift we can give our children then knowledge.

http://www.studentsfirst.org/

If you would like to see more, watch Waiting for Superman.

Wii Wii Wii all the way home

Oh the madness!

Did anyone else have trouble with their children when they got the Wii?  In our defense, we have let the children play a little each day, but consequently had to listen to fighting, screaming, punching, kicking, and huge tantrums at bedtime.  My husband is less than thrilled (read earlier post) and ready to throw it in a dumpster.

I've tried to rationalize this a hundred ways, but honestly if I have to listen to the four-year-old scream for two hours at bedtime one more night I will trow it out myself.  The only rational I have left - genetics - this is all my husbands fault!

My kind of Family....

Growing up in a small town I attended Catholic school.  If you live here in these parts going to Catholic school is more of the norm and not the exception.  In our town it was truly the opposite.  Consequently I sat next to the girl whose last name started a with a C, mine started with a D, for six years.

I left the Catholic school before anyone else in my class did.  It was traumatic.  I went to the Public Junior High School by myself and people actually asked me if I had just moved here - the towns population is approximately 8,000 and most are cousins.  Needless to say I was the lonely outcast for a couple of years. I digress.

Once in High School I reconnected with that girl whose last name started with the C, mine starting with a D, we were still seated next to each other.  That was really the first time that we had hung out together and I spent anytime at her house.  It was quickly apparent where she got her wicked sense of humor.  Her mother is hysterically funny.

They are that delightfully delicious funny that makes you not only pee your pants just a little, but makes you want to curl up on the couch and become a permanent fixture.  As teenagers we would walk into the local JC Penny store and my friend would run up to a mannequin and say, "Julia! Where have you been I haven't seen you for ages!" Making 50 something store clerks glare at us and whisper - "Drugs!"   They were the family that would attack each other, in a good way, I think.  Icing steps, greasing door handles, decorating the inside of cars and rooms and on occasion breaking into each others houses to pull off a rouse.  Like the time they rearranged the furniture while their parent were out for the night.

For years her mother drove around town with a large Barbie head, the kind you could do the hair on, sitting up in the back window like a passenger.  She would go to garage sales and purchase varies hats, headbands, and head ornaments for it.  Her mother also started a tradition at the annual festival's parade where she and her girlfriends would hunt all year for the ugliest prom dresses they could find and then they would sit along the parade route with tiara's  and sashes as the "Queens of the Parade".  Waving royally at all floats and real queens (those poor teenage girls really didn't get it) that passed before them.

Needless to say, that when I see an email from my friend pop up with an attachment I brace myself, and usually hit the bathroom first so as not to soil myself.  The latest was what my friends children did to their Uncle with the help of their Grandmother (surprised?) after he fell asleep on the floor after Thanksgiving dinner, really? I don't think I would have ever slept in that house.

Our Christmas Lists....

Christmas lists are a traditional part of the holiday season for some of us they are exciting eventful even and for the rest of us problematic.  Jewelry? Silver, gold, costume?  Star Wars action figure? Cade Bane, Boba Fett, Jar Jar who?

As a child however, there was no greater fun then pouring over the catalogs, watching Saturday morning cartoons, or if you were lucky, hitting a toy store with Grams to check out all the latest loot.  The most problematic part was prioritizing or finding a paper big enough for the entire list.

Now as a parent myself I see the flaw in the idea of letting the boys make a list 12 miles long, how do I know what they really want?  Do they know what they really want?  It was for that reason, and others, (like the traumatic Christmas I whispered my list to Santa only to find none of the items under the tree, some elf, huh!) that I have told my boys that they can ask Santa for three things, and he'll pick one to put under the tree.

There is still the element of surprise, Which one will he bring? There is the need to prioritize.  What do I really want? And for me, options! Like last year when the then six-year-old asked for a Nintendo DS, Army guys, and something else expensive? (Please do you really think I could remember that a year later!)  He got the Army guys.  This year the now seven-year-old has asked for a Drum set, Nerf guns, or Tech Decks.  He obviously does not feel inhibited, a drum set? Yeah, Santa know better than that!

So we recently took a trip to Toys R Us where they could peruse the aisles and tell me anything they thought they might want to put on their list later.  The four-year-old went up and down the aisles saying, "I want this, and this and this and this".  It was pretty funny considering he would look to make sure I was writing, and that he had things like a magic eight ball, collectors edition retro KISS dolls in full regalia, and a 64 pack of crayons.  When he wrote to Claus though, there was only one thing on the list, Star Wars.  Great.  The seven-year-old was so cautious with his choices that I finally told him to tell me something and he could pare it down later.

Mommy's Wish list: a professional kitchen since that's where I spend 99% of my time, a maid-so that she could spend 99% of her time in the professional kitchen while I get spa treatments, beach vacations, and lots of girl time.

Mommy's Christmas list: a very snowy, loud and crazy Christmas morning followed by a long, cozy Christmas day with my family. Happy Holiday's!

Wiiiiiii

Watch out world - we've got a Wii!.

The boys could not have been more excited and cute!  That is what every grandparent should get to experience.  My seven-year-old quickly figured out what it was and he jumped up so fast I thought his pants were on fire.  He grabbed Nanna and squeezed her so hard I was a little worried.  I don't know that the four-year-old got it, but he saw Mario and that was cool enough.  My two-year-old nephew was helping and he could have cared less what was in the boxes - he was just so excited that the big boys were distracted and he could tear the rest of the wrapping off all by himself.

Now most of my blog followers are close friends and family so I know the question on every one's mind is - How did your husband handle this?  We knew that it was coming so I have been working on him.  Reminding him that his children are growing up in a different era, and video games are not the luxury they were when he was young.  And trying to convince him that without giving them this experience we are setting them back.  He's a hard sell, but once he started playing with the seven-year-old and getting his butt kicked in baseball, it's been a whole new ball game.

Happy Thanksgiving

It seems to be highly debated whether thanksgiving is a holiday that should center around family or friends.  We are a family, away from our families, so I think, thanksgiving is a time to count your blessings, where ever you are...

What I am Thankful for, 2010.
I am thankful to have grown up near grandparents who were kind, generous, and very loving.
I am thankful for parents who were not perfect, not my friend, and provided me every opportunity they could.
I am thankful for a large, crazy, loud, and loving extended family that I know will celebrate my joys, and morn my sorrows.
I am thankful for falling on my face early in life so that I might appreciate what is learned from failure.
I am thankful for finding an amazing husband who lives with passion, loves with loyalty, and without whom my life would be nothing.
I am thankful for two beautiful healthy children who fill my life with love, laughter, noise, and a crazy I never could have imagined.
I am thankful for those who are no longer here, for the moments and memories that I carry in my heart.
I am thankful for a warm house in a safe neighborhood where my children can play out back in a fort they made.
I am thankful for more food than I can eat and being home every night to cook it.
I am thankful for every day, every breath, and everyone of you reading this
Happy Thanksgiving!

Really?

I am not sure what category this goes under, except, Really!

This morning the kids are out of school for the Thanksgiving holiday, my husband doesn't have to teach, and a lot of his clients are out of town already.  I made a plan to workout with a friend who had to leave by a certain time to get to Parent/Teacher conference.  As my grandmother always said  - the best laid plans of mice and men.

I told the boys the plan last night.  I reiterated it this morning.  At T-10 minutes I informed them that I was leaving in 10 minutes and they could get ready or I would put them in the car in their PJ', hungry, and head to the gym.

Suddenly, my husband who had been on the phone with his mom is paying attention and ready to 'help'. oh yeah.  His help, to start screaming at the kids to get their clothes on and finish breakfast.  OK, not really helping!  I'm trying to stop the yelling in the house, I'm trying to teach them consequences for their behavior, I'm prepared to let them fail in this safe non-life threatening environment....AND YOU'RE RUINING IT!

So maybe the person I should have told was my husband.  This is my fault, to change parenting strategies mid swim and not tell him.  He's still doing the breaststroke and I've switched to the back stroke.  But my husband works with children and would never yell at them, why does he yell at his own children?  I don't think he came from the screaming house, where everyone is screaming.  I know he didn't come from a strict house where you tow the line or drop and give me 20!

The funniest part of the whole thing is that everyone, except me is yelling, fighting, struggling, manipulating....so I lost it and yelled (you see how long I can stick to a new parenting strategy)
ENOUGH, NO ONE TALK FOR THE NEXT 10 MINUTES OR SOMETHING BAD IS GOING TO HAPPEN......there was silence in the house for 30 seconds, then my husbands says one thing, then another....

OK, Really!

What I am thankful for...

So my seven year-old left for school this morning to give his presentation, What I am thankful for.  When I asked him last night what he was going to say, he said, "Oh, I know mom, I know exactly what I'm going to say, we need to take a picture of the car." A little confused I said, "OK, so what is it that you are thankful for?" The reply was just not what I expected - "Transportation!"

Teaching moment?  Re frame this?  Go with the flow?  What do you do as a mom when your expectation and their reality are so far apart?

We talked about how wonderful transportation is and how grateful I am for it, because taking the four year-old to school in a carriage, or even on a horse let alone by foot would take all day.  Not to mention groceries!

But I told him that when someone asks me what I am most grateful for, I would have to say my family.  To which the four year-old chimed in that his brother should be most thankful for him-his little brother - and he should bring his picture or bring him to school and maybe they could bring some star wars stuff and talk about that too!

Well, he finally decided that he wanted to say- of course he was grateful for his family and health - but he was also grateful for something with a seat, handlebars, pedals....can you guess?? A Bike! and he is going to talk about how grateful he is to mountain bike with his dad.

I guess we got there.....

All my Crazy

For my husband...

You need noise
I need quiet
You live out loud
I live inside

My silence hurts you
You feel dejected
You overwhelm me
and all my crazy

You need order
that's filled with chaos
I just need answers
and go inside

You live with passion
for every moment
I live with fear
and all my crazy

You are my hero
You are my love
You are my friend
You are my crazy

The waiting game....or New Super Hero hits town.

It's been a busy week and thus I ended up at the bank on a Saturday morning.  I was writing up the deposit slips at the bank when I overheard the drive-thru customer ask the teller why it took so long, where they short staffed?  She calmly replied, well yes sir there are only two of us and there is a line inside also, I'm sorry for your wait.

I ended up having the same teller and I told her I thought she handled that very well.  She smiled, sighed, and said I guess some people don't like to wait. Yes, I replied, then as if my body had been possessed I said NO! Really, no one likes to wait.  But it's like cleaning toilets, you just do it.  And I live with three boys - there is pee everywhere, behind the toilet, beside the toilet, in places there should not be pee.  You just do it.

As if the possession had ended as abruptly as it began I suddenly realized what I just said - to strangers - in the bank!  Where the hell is my filter?  Then the two ladies both giggling and said, Thank you. You just made our day!

Well, my work here is done.  Call me freakish filterless friend!  UP UP and Away.....

Fearlessness

Every tomorrow has two handles. We can take hold of it with the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith. (Henry Ward Beecher)

In my mind, motherhood is like taking the handlebars of the bike.  You have to take a hold of both to steer, and in doing so you always have both anxiety and faith at equal disposal.  And that to me is motherhood.  That ultimate dichotomy, you must have both.

Motherhood is such a crazy balancing act.  A friend with a college age student recounted a story about that first dreaded call from the ER and her struggle to stay calm.  A friend with a boy the same age recounted the trauma of being told her infant had inoperable cancer, only to come through with flying colors.  And of course the countless stories of unsolicited I love you's, hugs, and thank you's.

If it were all pain, fear, and doubt would we keep doing it?  It is the balance between faith and anxiety, hope and doubt, and love and pain.  We take hold of the handle bars, hold on for dear life, and navigate through each and every twist and turn.  Sometimes they are illness, injury, or tragedy.  Sometimes they are victorious, joyous, and tender.

Motherhood is the ride, the journey that sometimes let's us coast with our hands in the air and the wind in our face; and sometimes leaves us holding on white knuckled.

Thanks Courtney!

I'm not a big celebrity follower, but we only get about 11 TV channels and one of the E!  So when I really need to veg, hopefully it's Chelsea Handler and not the krazy Kardashian klan time.  I love Chelsea's sense of humor and the run down on what stupid things celebrities have done now.

So the other night she was talking about Courtney Cox and her soon-to-be X, David Arquette.  Evidently, David went on The Howard Stern show and told the listeners that the marriage dissolved because Courtney was tired of being his mother.

Hallelujah!!!

Can I just say that of all the stressors in my marriage, the one that drives me most mad is that I have a 40 year-old child sometimes.  Having to think for my husband drives me crazy.  And I guess the most maddening part of it is that if I went away for the weekend, or if I have a busy week, or a family emergency - He can be amazing!  But on a day to day basis, it's like having a third child.

Do any of these examples sound familiar?

Did you pack my bathing suit?
(he asks me as I am crawling around the van floor looking for a star wars character for a screaming child!)
If you are tired, why don't you just lay down?
(he says at 6:30 as I am serving dinner, which I will be cleaning up, after being up all night with the sick child)
What time do we have to leave for the pre-school performance?
(he says calling from work 5 minutes after you were suppose to leave)

So I say, Thanks Cortney! Thank you for not sighting irreconcilable differences.  Thank you for not saying, "We just grew apart." Thank you for telling men every where that money is not the number one cause of divorce - it's their need to be the biggest baby in the house!

Now could someone please help explain to them - sex?

Day after Halloween Cookies

If you are anything like me, and Dear Lord I hope someone is,  because I feel very alone.  You have hid the Halloween candy, not from your children who you have screamed into submission, but yourself. 

My children know that they can only have one piece of candy a day after their healthy food.  So they ask very sweetly (pun-get it) if they can have a piece after dinner.  I however do not need to ask anyone and consequently ate a pound and a half already.  Just ask my ass.

So here is my alternative - a cookie! Much healthier than just eating seven Reece's cup straight from the bag for breakfast because they have oatmeal in them...

2c. flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1c. butter softened
1c. white sugar
1c. brown sugar (packed)
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
2c. rolled oats
1c.+ cut up chocolate Halloween candy

Preheat oven to 350. Mix flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt with a whisk and set aside.  In a large bowl cream together the butter, white sugar, and brown sugar until light and fluffy.  Beat in the eggs one at a time, then vanilla.  Gradually add sifted ingredients. Last stir in oats and candy pieces.

Bake 8-10 minutes depending on your oven, wait to remove until firm, especially if you used lots of snickers.

That is what no one here likes and it's the only thing left by the time I get around to making these cookies!  Snickers taste better in a cookie than by themselves, M&M's are also a good choice.  Nothing in an orange package ever makes it into the cookie because it can't get past my mouth.  If I had a daughter - you guessed it, she would have been Reece. Enjoy.

What you talkin' bout Willis!

So I am telling my age with my Must See TV line-up; Different Strokes and Facts of Life.  Who doesn't remember, What you talkin' bout Willis?

If you remember, Arnold usually said that to his brother when he was asked to do something he really didn't want to do, but I tend to use it when my husband asks me that random question in the middle of total chaos.  For example, it's Halloween day, people are coming to the house for dinner and Trick or Treat, he's spent the day mountain biking.  I've spent the day cleaning, cooking, entertaining a four-year-old, and riding the seven-year-old to get his homework done.  Halloween festivities start at 5:00 in our neighborhood - at 3:30 he's eating "lunch" I'm carving a pumpkin and still need to get two boys into costumes and myself into the shower.  That's when he chooses to ask me what I found out about changing insurance.

What you talking about Willis!!

Halloween

It's Halloween!! I can't say that it is my favorite holiday but what's not to like about candy and chili and running around in the dark with friends.

Unless your obsessed with fear and uptight about everything. Little harsh? Probably, I'm not known for my restraint. I'm one of those people that gets up in the morning and forgets the filter.

But really, Halloween? Has it gotten that out of control? Help me understand, so 17 year-olds go out with a pillow case and try to get candy...boys in my class did that 20 years ago. Some people laughed at their gumption (shall we saw) analyzing their creative costumes (I think they dressed as cheerleaders and hookers)and rewarded them with a snack size snickers while others said Get out of here!

Did they egg, TP, and ding dong ditch? Heck yes, but guess what, so did my Dad 60 years ago. Maybe I'm pushing it, 50? Anyway my dad and his friends tipped over outhouses, sometimes with people in it! Do I need to describe that in detail? Use your imagination people.

All I'm saying is that we were allowed to wear our costume to school and we had a parade. Some one's mom brought in treats and the Cafeteria ladies dressed up. We collected for UNICEF and brought it to Mass the next day. We ran around the neighborhood and sometimes a friends neighborhood also until way past dark and ate as much candy as we could that night.

Where does all this commotion over Holiday's come from, how sad was your Halloween growing up that you want to take away parties, candy, and trick or treat? Maybe I'm a naive Midwestern fool that still sees good in the world, in people, in letting my hair down on Oct. 31st, and eating all the Reese's cups I can steal from my children.

Happy Halloween!

This one's for you...

OK- so I feel I should make a public apology for my latest attempt at comforting a friend.

She has a wonderful, energetic, smart, funny, cool son - and I called him a dog. Well, technically I said that he is like a Labordor. I grew up with Lab's: Black and Brown and Yellow. I love these dogs because they are loyal, friendly, playful, energetic, loving, kind. But there is nothing more trying than a Lab pup - thank God they are so cute!

What I was trying to say was that even though Lab pups get into everything and have more energy than the Energizer Bunny - they do grow up, chill out, and become amazing pets. I know that her son is going to grow out of this and be absolutely amazing - look at his parents!

So many things sound better in my head than they do coming out of my mouth...

Make some Jello

Have you ever felt so totally overwhelmed that you were stuck. You just want to sit down and cry, or eat ice cream instead of figuring out where to get started?

Make Jello. That's what my mother used to tell me. Sound funny? Well, it is but it was the idea. You see when ever my mother would get that stuck feeling her mother would tell her to set the oven timer for 20 minutes and see how much she could get done. Just 20 minutes, because it is amazing what you can actually get done in 20 minutes when you just get going.

It's true. In turn, when I would call my mother from college crying because there was just too much to do and I wanted to quit, she would tell me to make jello. "But I hate Jello!" I would protest. "You don't have to eat it, just make it."

She was right. Just the act of starting and finishing something in 20 minutes gets you ready to tackle another and another and another...

So when all else fails, Make Jello. And if like me you don't really care for it, try adding vodka, it dosen't make the Jello any less gross but you feel WAY better in 20 minutes!

Facebook this!

Is there truly shame in being the last hold out? I think not - and I will tell you why, because I am. My dad sent me a facebook request.

Seriously? My father who thought his computer was broken for over a week because my mom had signed into yahoo and he could "find" his email.

OK so will I be shamed into creating a Facebook page by my father? Perhaps. But only if I can log in as Anastasia Beaverhousen...

Look for friend request soon.

You are your Mother

We all know it is true. Try as we might in our teens and early twenties to turn our back on all we know, we become our mother.

It happens gradually though, you have the first child determined to do things differently. And life happens gradually, you do not give birth to a mouthy teenager. So at first it's the lullaby that creeps into the evening routine, or the song you sing while feeding them, or the game you play in the bathtub. But it ends up with the phrases you sore never to let cross your lips, "Eat it or no dessert!", "Wait till your father gets home!", or the dreaded, "Because I said SO!".

I just finsihed reading Ruth Reichl's book, Not Becoming my Mother and if only it were that easy. Her mother told her not to become me, gave her permission to see her for just who she was and become whoever she could dream. Her mother was maniac-depresssive (I believe)and that is why I say, if only it were that easy.

I think it is harder for those of us with Baby Boomer parents who struggled through war times, and free-love times, and equal rights times, because so much was happeneing, changing, moving faster and faster. I struggle today and it's been moving this fast all my life, how did my parents make any sense of the world? Keep their feet grounded? Adapt to the changes of the world?

I know that some did, adapt that is, change with the times. I'm not sure what my mom felt about the turbulence of the times, she kept her nose to the grindstone, built a career in Real Estate and raised 5 children the best she could. She made sure to tell us to wear clean underwear in case we were in an accident and wear a seatbelt. But I don't think I really know who she was....she was just mom.

I don't want my children's only memories of me to be in the kitchen, taking them from place to place, screaming at them to clean their room, do their homework, and eat their vegetables. I want them to know that I chose not to work to be with them. I want them to know I yell at them about their homework and lack of chores to teach them responsibility, I yell about fighting and mouthing off to teach them respect, and I cry when they hurt me and hope they learn empathy.

It's hard to stop, when I think about it, there are lots of things I want to give my children - We all do! With the greatest intentions. and somehow, it comes out sounding exactly like my mother.

Sing me a song

When our children are babies we sing to them almost instinctively. Maybe it's purely survival when it's three a.m. and you are up for the fourth time. Singing keeps you awake enough not to drop the child.

The older our children get the less we sing those lullabies, nursery rhymes, or folk tunes. My youngest son always asks his Nanna to sing to him when she puts them to bed. But my mother is from a different generation. Singing, singers, radio was a bigger part of their life. My mom who no longer listens to any music, just talk radio, can still sing every camp song ever written and most of the music from the 50's and 60's.

The other night after putting this particular four-year-old back in bed for the third time while trying to finish kitchen clean-up, laundry, and school papers he said to me, "Sing me a song mommy."

I was ready to say for the third time, "JUST GO TO SLEEP." When is realized if it were that easy for the child, I wouldn't be here. Maybe he needs a song.

So I sat down on the side of his bed and began to sing to them, when it occured to me that my reportire needs considerable help. I'd start a song and forget the second verse, or worse get a tune stuck in my head without words, or words but no tune.

I ended up reverting to the sounds of my early college days when I was introduced to Cat Stevens and James Taylor. Now for someone who grew up with Peter, Paul and Mary, then went to High School with Guns -n- Roses and Ozzie Osbourne, these men were a treasure. And having been a dance and theater person I also have a few show tunes that are forver inbedded in my head.

Last night must have been one of those nights, again, for the four-year-old because as I was walking him back to bed for the third time I said, "How about a song?"
"Please mommy will you sing the moon shadow song?"

Thanks Cat, I owe you one;-)

Ice Cream Monday

As is obvious from my more than melancholy post earlier this week life just seemed to catch up and bite me in the butt. Does that ever happen to anyone else? Several people commented that I should seek help from a therapist which started out offensive and then I realized, YOUR READING MY BLOG!!!!! Yeah Me!

Anyway on Monday when we went to the gas station/convenient store for gas I had to go in and pay. As the four-year-old and I jump out of the car I realize there is an ice cream sale going on and I started to grumble thinking, Great now all he's going to do is whine "I want this and I want that!"

I do not know what happened as we stepped inside the door, but when he looked up at me and said, "Mom, can we have ice cream?" I said, SURE! Why not, it's Monday!

Everyone around us giggled, and then giggled a little more as I held him so he could pick a flavor. He had to taste about ten of them first and make a comment about all the others being gwross, or yucky, or just oooouuuuu.

We left with our Ice Cream Monday's. There is nothing like the power of ice cream.

Kindered Spirits

I know you are never suppose to play favorites, but there is a 5 year-old boy it the neighborhood who is the red haired middle child. Need I say more! (I was the red haired middle child;-)

This kid cracks you up from the get go. His mom was telling stories the other day and these are two of my favorites. It seems that everyday at Pre-school when they say the Pledge of Allegiance, as soon as they are finished he yells, "Play Ball!" Because of course- that is the very last line of the Pledge of Allegiance.

The other day at his soccer game after running up and down the field blowing her kisses and giving her the big boy guns (that is what we call it when our boys don't want to kiss us in public and instead you get two finger guns and a wink) he said to her, "Mom, did you enjoy the game?"
To which she replied, "Yes. I love to watch you and your brother play."
"Yeah, you got it good Mom. You get to see the whole game, I have to keep running up and down the field and I don't get to enjoy any of it."

Love this kid!!

Who are you praying to?

There are moments in my life that have made me absolutely believe in a power greater than me. Mother earth, the Almighty, the gods, whoever you pray to, most of us believe in something bigger.

Funny thing- for me growing up that "thing" was God of the Catholic variety. So he took on the figure of a man basking in bright white light seated on a throne. In college as I started to meet other people and explore new ideas I toyed with the idea of figures, a sort of consortium of deities. Allah, Buddha, Messiah, and so on. Now that I am a mother, the figure has taken on the face of a woman. A mother.

I hang on to those moments when I am sure that the higher power I feel is a kind and gentle woman, perhaps sitting by the hearth, feeling the warmth on her face and hands as she sews the fabric that is our lives. Pushing us as if on the head of that needle threw the fabric, this way and that. A chance encounter, a sudden change of mind, or a total shift in direction makes the quilt that will tell our story.

There are too many moments when I curse the sky not sure where the higher power is at- if there at all. Why do children die? Why does war happen? Why do loved ones get cancer? That to me is the act of a cruel God, not a gentle woman. No woman would let you harm a innocent child, nor take her son to war. No woman would create cancer, there is enough suffering in motherhood already.

Some days are just like this I guess, you can't seem to get a hold of anything that makes you feel grounded. It all seems to short, fleeting, temporary. It is days like this that I can not seem to get motivated to do much more than hug my kids, and pray, that God truly is a gentle woman.

Granimal Parenting

Those of us of a certain generation - and I will not say which - can remember Granimals. The wonderful line of clothing that made shopping simple. Pick two pink hippos,top and bottom, and you had a matching outfit. I was all over that. No fussing around, no difficult decisions, if I needed school clothes I picked a couple of pink hippos and a blue rhino or two and we were done.

That's what I want in a parenting book. Gotta a strong willed child? Choose the Green Elephant. Gotta shy child? Choose the yellow giraffe. I think the reason there is no consistency in my parenting is because every book and everyone has told me something else.

To get children out of your bed try www.empoweringparents.com, or maybe a 21-day program by Lawrence PhD there is even help at the Berkley parenting network. Have a strong-willed child? The expert is James Dobson who wrote the infamous book, "How to parent the strong willed child". But first you should test your child at www.applest.com so that you know just how strong willed they are. God forbid you search- How to get your kids to listen- one search turned up 361,005,251 hits! and the first website is for none other than my arch nemesis Super Nanny.

Do you see why I want Granimals!! I'm over informed. My mom says I over think everything, maybe I do. But I still think it would easier if it were just pink hippos and green elephants.

Airplane instructions

After yet another ridiculous fight with my husband I am up at 2:00 in the morning trying to sort out my feelings. That's when it dawns on me - Do you know who the flight attendants are talking to when they give the instructions: "Place the mask over your face first in order to help anyone else around you."

Mothers!

Otherwise we would instinctively put the mask on our child, and elderly seat mate or even a dumb ass husband Fight or no Fight before we would put it on ourselves. What is wrong with us?

Why are we fighting, forget it! You don't really want to know and honestly I can't even remember now what the original issue was because four hours later I'm now pissed about a damn oxygen mask.

If you are married you know, we all fight over stupid things, for stupid reasons, and at the most stupid times. Generally it has to do more with stress, or kids, or lack of sleep - from stress and kids. But mostly it has to do with sex.

Twenty three million Viagra commercials later you would think they could come up with something for women. Do you know what the flight attendants should say: "In case of an emergency, should the oxygen mask drop from the ceiling, place it securely on your wife first if you ever want to get laid again."

This is my Meadowview Drive

Sometimes after the boys are asleep as I am wandering through the house picking up toys, closing curtains, and locking doors I realize this is my Meadowview Drive.

My parents built the house I grew up in the year I was born. They moved in when I was maybe six-months old and that was our house until I was out of college. We moved into this house when our oldest was three months old, and I wonder is this his Meadowview Drive?

It's not the perfect house. The stairs are too narrow, the bathrooms too small, the kitchen could use an update. But so could Meadowview Drive. What can't be remodeled are all the memories of playing in the basement, my closet, and the big fir tree in the corner of the yard. All the Christmases, birthdays, and special occasions that were held at Meadowview Drive.

In these turbulent times it sometimes feels like a tornado whipping up around me ready to rip my world apart leaving shreds of anxiety, chaos, and doubt. I wander through the house picking up toys, closing curtains, locking doors, and praying - that this is their Meadowview Drive.

"I'm leaving in my mini-van"

sing to the tune of John Denver's Leaving on a Jet Plane...

Forget the bags I'm ready to go
I'm standing here outside the door
They didn't even hear me say good-bye
It's barely dawn still early morn
Their all screaming like big bull horns
Already I'm so fed-up I could cry

So miss me and smile for me
Tell me you'll remember me
Don't hold me now! Please just let me go!
Cause I'm leaving in my Mini-van
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, Baby! Watch me go!!

So maybe I have let you down
I'm still your mom- I cart you round
I ask you, Don't that mean a thing?
Every place I go I'll think of you.
and I'll be saying, WAHOO! WAHOO!
When I come back you'll be old enough to drink.

So miss me and smile for me
Tell me you'll remember me
Don't hold me now! Please just let me go!
Cause I'm leaving in my Mini-van
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, Baby! Watch me go!!

Now the time has come to go away
I look back and hear you say,
MOOOMMM He's touching me!
I dream about the days to come
When I will be here all alone
And all the times that you will hear me say.....

So miss me and smile for me
Tell me you'll remember me
Don't hold me now! Please just let me go!
Cause I'm leaving in my Mini-van
Don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, Baby! Watch me go!!

You found my...

Mom's are required to know where everything is at all times. And should that item be broken, how to fix it, NOW.

Case in point. When my seven-year-old arrives home from school, from a full day of being on his best behavior, sitting still, absorbing everything the teacher says, he is glazed over, exhausted, spent! He drops his bag kicks off his shoes and watches CyberChase.

Meanwhile I pick up the shoes and the bag and go through his day quietly for a moment. Note from PTA regarding the Fall Festival, spelling words, today's language activity - note to self work on the child's handwriting it's starting to look like his father's. But the real sign of how the day went: the Lunch bag. Half a sandwich, all his carrots, no apple left.

The other day I opened his Lunch bag and noticed that his water bottle was missing the little carabiner. A carabiner is that little clasp that was once reserved just for mountain climbers, but now adorns every water bottle, back pack, and lunch bag sold.

I found the carabiner int he lunch bag and thus just reattached it as I was cleaning up. After he had time to watch his show, get a snack, and fight with his brother I suggested we leave for the park. "Grab your water bottle." I said as I put the four-year-olds shoes on. "Mom!" he shrieked. Thinking that he had suddenly been stabbed my a masked intruder I twirled around to see him holding up his water bottle with a huge grin on his face.

"You found my hooker! Thanks mom!"

What more is there to say, I'm still laughing.

Moooommmm!

My seven-year-old asks me the other day, "Mom do people really live with maids and stuff?"

Yes. Some people have maids, butlers, gardeners, nannies, servants, etc.

Some people, I say have this thing, called a Mom.

Mom's do their laundry, clean up their room, get all the groceries, make their meals, clean up the house, take them to soccer....

"Oh Mooommm!"

What can I say, Seize the Moment!

The Snake

Since Elementary school started two and half weeks before Pre-school my four-year-old and I have had some real bonding time.

Yesterday we were outside enjoying the gorgeous fall weather and playing Star Wars. I was "Ventrewess with two wight sabers" and he was a "Cwone wif a gun". We were perusing the woods looking for bad guys when we got to the neighbors house. They have this cool backyard with gargoyles, traffic lights, stone bears, and a trail that leads to the creek.

My four-year-old stopped at a small tree and pointed out a snake. Knowing that Mrs. Wales like to be very creative in her garden I said it must be fake. I even poked it with a light saber and the thing didn't move. The way it way hanging on the side of the tree I assumed she nailed a rubber snake to the tree.

It was not fake however, and when my son went over to touch it, it curled up, dropped off the tree, and started to slither towards us on the ground. Being the girl that I am, I screamed and practically threw my child down the makeshift steps into the creek. When we landed at the bottom I started laughing hysterically and my poor child is now staring at me in shock.

"Mom!! Why did you make me touch it? It was weal, a weal snake!" As the reality is dawning on him he starts to shake and cry and look at me with a look of total disappointment. How could you mom!

All I could do was scoop him up and apologize. Of course I was still laughing hysterically at the absurdity of it all. I told him how cool it was that he got to touch a real live snake and how lucky we were to see it on a tree like that. When that didn't seem to phase him, I added that his dad and brother where going to be really jealous.

That worked. We told the story 10 times yesterday, and it still makes me giggle. Thank goodness I didn't send him flying into the creek, I don't think I could have snaked my way out of that quite so easily.

Biking Adventure

Our family often takes a bike ride to the Dairy Queen for a treat. This is generally the only way we can talk my husband into ice cream, is to pair it with exercise.

Last Saturday night my husband went to a College Football game with friends. The boys and I being all alone decided to ride bikes to Blockbuster for Diary of a Wimpy Kid and to Subway for dinner. No big deal, they are right next to the Diary Queen so it's a familiar ride. The new part was talking the four-year-old who had a two hour nap into riding his own bike.

My seven-year-old did a great job of helping me talk it up and convince the four-year-old that he could "ride with the big dogs". So off we went. We were doing great,even on the big hills which is where I though for sure the four-year-old would melt. Then the training wheel went haywire - in the middle of a crosswalk.

I jump off my bike and grab him and the bike to get all of it across the street before some crazy Midwest anti-biking driver runs us over. I tried to push the training wheel back in place, meanwhile the seven-year-old is racing ahead of us 50 yards and now the four-year-old in between sobs is screaming at the top if his lungs for his brother to STOP!

We happen to be by a little public garden so I told him not to worry we would put his bike here and come back for it. He could ride with me in his bike seat. The seven-year-old pipes up, "It won't be there when we come back because someone will steal it." This sends the already hysterical four-year-old into further fits. He is now alternating between, "I can't wide wike Daddy. I no good at bike wides!" and "Someones gonna take my bike away forevor."

I asked both of my children to have a little more faith that God is watching over us and there are more good people in the world than bad.

We finally get to Blockbuster and to Subway and head back toward the park and home. As we near the park, I see my neighbors car. She takes care of the gardens. Thank you God! I asked if she has any tools and low and behold she only has a wrench. I told the boys that this is exactly what I was talking about, God is watching and helping. We fixed the training wheel and all headed off once again.

It didn't take 30 seconds for the seven-year-old to be 50 yards ahead of us, the training wheel to fly up, and the four-year-old to start crying all over again. "See mom, I told you I can't truwst God!"

Lesson learned? Maybe for mom. No more bike rides without a wrench.

Dysfunctional families...

After my brothers and sisters and I all got over 12 years old my mom loved to say that there was no such things as a normal family, everyone was "dysfunctional". She loved the word, she loved the phrase, she repeated it often.

I'm way older than 12 now, I've lived on my own, I've been apart of another family for 15 years, and I've meet many people. Mom, I do not mean to burst your bubble - but not everyone is dysfunctional.

Our family is unique in the way we interact. We are sarcastic, hurtful, immature, rude, just down right rotten to each other. The only time you see our family stand together is at a death bed or funeral.

This is not normal, not even just dysfunctional, it's crazy sad. I see cousins, friends, even neighbors that have closer relationships then I have with my siblings. I do not have many close friends and have trouble maintaining what friendships I do make and I often wonder, is that because I've never learned how?

I'm so frustrated right now with my boys and the way they treat each other that I've asked the school guidance counselor for help. It's not only sad that I can't keep my boys from fighting with each other, but that I can't set a better example of what siblings should act like.

Reality TV

Have you ever felt like reality tv could be made 100x better if it were actually reality? Like this morning!

I think not only could most women relate, they would have sympathized, giggled, maybe even have said while pointing earnestly at the tv - that's my life.

My husband gets up at 5:00 a.m. He wakes the 4 year-old everyday. The four-year-old then waits until after my husband has left because that is when the child is FULLY awake and comes to get me.

Last night we had a new 13 year-old babysitter from down the street. She put the four-year-olds diaper on backwards. So at six a.m. I am woken up to crying because the diaper has exploded and he is wet. Which means so is his bed!

I strip him down, tell him to finish peeing then get in my bed. Still crying, "I can't do that I can't do it it's too dark, I'm too tired, I want my daddy, I need clothes...." FINE! I take the child into my bathroom turn on the night light hold his penis, shake, plop him into my bed. I head off to the boys bedroom for PJ's and to make sure that the Tooth Fairy that gets up at 5:00 a.m (and calls himself a man, ha!) has left money. There is a radio going, their Christmas/night lights are still plugged in, NO TOOTH FAIRY.

I get the PJ's throw them on my bed, pray the child is back asleep already. no luck. "What are you doing, are these my clothes, I need to get dressed, wheres my daddy?" Nothing, yes, I know, only God has that answer right now!

I am standing at my husbands dresser frantically searching threw the underwear drawer in the dark for you guessed it - money. So original right, money in the sock drawer. I found luggage locks, a broken ipod shuffle, keys to the house we owned 7 years ago, coins from ancient Greece, ARE YOU KIDDING ME!!

The four-year-old is still talking to me. GO BACK TO BED! I go back to the boys room and the seven -year-old is sitting up in bed rubbing his eye. Seriously? I lay him down and telly him it's not morning, I slide under his bed and steal his "wallet", gets his hiding places from his dad, and take what ever I can grab - $1.75. I slip it under the pillow, but can't find the tooth. Gingerly I slip under the pillow again and feel the plastic bag. I tiptoe out and head back to my bedroom.

I put the bag in my nightstand, dress the four-year-old, answer six more questions, and try to go back to bed. Then I realize the seven-year-olds alarm is going to go off in 15 minutes - Oh no your not! I slide back out of bed and go unplug his alarm. Then I go back to my bed and lay my head down thinking please 30 more minutes.

The four-year-old never stopped talking or moving for the next hour when the seven-year-old got up. We get downstairs and in walks my husband whose been up for three hours - "GOOD MORNING EVERYONE! IT'S A GORGEOUS DAY! HOW IS EVERYONE!" (He never talks quietly)

Where is the camera when you really need it?

Did I just say that?

It is amazing, after becoming a parent the things that have come out of my mouth. Some are all too familiar because they are lines used by my parents and some just make you stop and think, Did I really just say that?

Most of these instances are in response to something that your child has just done or said to you, that you can not quite believe. We have quite a few examples...

When my seven year-old son got into the basement refrigerator on a hot day and told his brother to shut the door. He didn't know the light would go off, and that he would be stuck. Thank God I was standing five feet away and heard the screaming and had to say, "Don't ever get inside a refrigerator."

The boys used to take a bath together and always had quite a good time. It's just that the seven year-old is very big for his age and takes up the whole tub so we had to stop. Also after the night that I ran to get something off the stove that I was burning/cooking and came back to find the little one with his penis stuck in a toy ship. That night I had to say, "You only get one of these boys, better take really good care of it. That means don't stick it in anything you can't get it out of."

My husband later explained to me that a penis is not like a cat. Cats will not go in anywhere that their head doesn't fit because they know they can't get out. A penis however will 1. go absolutely anywhere and 2. sometimes goes in much smaller than it comes out.....I now see the error of that last part about where they can stick it.

That didn't come out right either, I think I should stop while I'm a head. Wait, I didn't mean that either. I gotta go now.

The big yellow monster

"After the boys of summer have gone..."

School has begun. As one woman said to me through her own tears the other day, I hate that big yellow monster that takes my children away.

If you read my blog regularly you are probably expecting me to sing, "It's the most wonderful time of the year" or "Hallelujah" But you are wrong.

I know that I started this blog so that I could rant and rave the frustration of being a stay-at-home mom on someone other than my children. And it has really helped ease the sometimes mundane and crazy life that it Motherhood.

The truth is I would not trade it for the world. I know that I am extremely lucky to have these two beautiful and healthy children. There are so many parts of motherhood that no one can explain, that sound ridiculous when you don't have children that age, that suddenly make so much sense.

When I was pregnant with my second, I was struggling with a two and half year old and a tough pregnancy. We took off for the park that morning that school started and I passed the bus stops in the neighborhood. One mother said as she put the kindergartner on the bus, "I hate not knowing what she'll be doing all day and who is going to influence her." All I could think was, "I'd give my left eye right now for someone to take him for 4 hours so that I can go back to bed!"

But I wasn't there yet, so far from it. When you are in the trenches, the baby/toddler years, you feel like there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Before you know it you can come up for air and it can be so beautiful. Then that big yellow monster comes to take them away.

I do not have control over what he does, or who influences him, I can not protect him, or comfort him. But I've done the best I can. We've moved into a fantastic school district where I don't worry about his safety, education, or his teachers. I have been home with him and still am the only one to put him on and get him off the bus, take him to soccer, and get to every meeting.

Next year, that big yellow monster is going to try to take my baby. But I will be ready! Locked and Loaded, I live in the Midwest for goodness sakes, their not getting them both!

Teach your children well....

So we've been quite busy lately what with all the traveling. An unexpected trip to see my sister and her children was wonderfully welcome, and also daunting. I think perhaps I may have blogged something about that trip - with my parents. For the most part it went as well as could be expected.

Having a mid-day melt-down is usually understandable, tolerable, expected even. But having it in a car with my father, anywhere near my father, NOT OK.

My little guy works so hard to be all the four-year-old he can be. One minute he loves you , the next minute your stupid. He listens, he ignores, he holds your hand, he screams don't touch me, he wants chicken nuggets, he wants a doughnut, he is happy, he is down right mad. He is 4!

The curious part is that we require him to hold it together better than we can ourselves. For example, my husband driving home from vacation was an absolute mess. Every minute of the 11 hour journey he was asking where we were and what was next and when we did make two wrong turns (both of which he was responsible for seeing as he was driving) the rest of us just ducked for cover.

So why does he find it odd that when we tell the four-year-old we are doing one thing and then switch gears he falls apart? My husband handles adversity so well, screaming and ranting for hours and telling the children to pee in a cup because "I'm not stopping again we're late!" How can you be late on vacation?

I am by no means making this one sided. I'm the stay-at-home parent. They are with me all day and I am ready to admit that I throw a darn good fit once in awhile. But I think one of the most important things that I've learned as a parent, is that I'm always learning as a parent.

There was no manual and in order to get this thing right I have to be able to learn something new about myself everyday. And there is no better mirror to reflect yourself then your children. It's just no fun when it is at a family event where your four-year-old says, "Let's cut the @#%$& cake!" I'll take credit for that one.

Multi-tasking, Smulti-tasking!

Multi-tasking became the buzz word right out of college. I used it in my cover letters, resume, interviews, I was all over it. And there were days when I felt I actually did multi-task well.

Now that I have children, not so much. I can't walk from one floor of the house to the next without forgetting why I am there, let alone complete two separate tasks at once. There is just no way.

I am left to believe that my days of multi-tasking are a distant memory, along with last minute concerts, late night dinners, and car trips where my husband and I just talked. Multi-tasking is a thing of youth or women without children.

It is no longer possible for me to keep a grocery list of four items in my head especially if I get to go to the store by myself. I am so giddy at actually being out of the house alone that I get distracted by all the pretty colors. Did you know they sell flowers and Starbucks at the Grocery now!

Sometimes when I get out of the house by myself I get lost in the radio, or thought, or scenery and have found myself not at the store- but twenty miles away from home lost in the boon docks and wondering, What the hell did I leave the house for?

Eat this not THAT!

As mother's we've all said countless times, Don't eat that! Meaning- please do not put the mulch in your mouth, or the dog poop, or the lollipop that just fell on to the floor - at Super Cuts!

But yet we feel free to feed our family food that past the expiration date but smells just fine. Leftovers that Martha Stewart would not recommend feeding to the dog because we don't feel like cooking, again.

Recently, my mother and I were cleaning out her refrigerator and came across cream cheese, two in fact, one that expired in 09 and one in January of 2010. We were dumbfounded, but curious. So we opened them up and they looked fine, smelled fine, tasted fine. Did we throw them away in disgust because they were really really old? Heck No!

With a gleam in our eye we both started listing all the things we could make, so as not to "waste them". And we did!! I made cream cheese and salsa dip and mom made Blonde Brownies. Both of which we not only served to our family that night, we helped to scarf down with out one ounce of regret.

I'm still here aren't I! Tums anyone?

Parenting books or childhood books?

My girlfriend emailed me the other day that she was reading a parenting book called Scream-Free Parenting. Good for you I said, not me. I can't do it. The whole reason I scream as much as I do is my damn kids. All they do is scream.

Case in point: we are staying at my sisters house with her her family and my parents. There are now 10 people in this house 5 of those people are under the age of 13. Night before last my four year-old threw a fit in the restaurant because he wanted a toothpick. Last night it was because I cut off his lucky hangnail. Tonight it was because I made him get out of the bathtub - two hours I spent trying to shut the kid up without giving in the the steady stream of commands, demands, and ultimatums.

My dad has absolutely had it with the screaming, not to mention my sisters dog -he ran and hid it was so distraught over the screaming. Everyone in the house just wanted to know what was wrong and how to stop it. There is no stopping it once it starts you just have to ride the wave.

What would my parenting book say about stopping a fit that your child is throwing on front of your entire family? Insert child into car seat. Drive to the nearest Wal-Mart. Put them into a cart and take them around the store. No one will notice the child or you behaving badly should you choose to use corporal punishment. Should you choose not to use corporal punishment yourself, the child will have a birds eye view of how lucky they are to have you for a mother.

Proceed to the nearest checkout with the subdued child and three bottles of wine.

AAHHHHHHH

I love my parents I really do. They gave me life, and food, and shelter, and private school, and dance lessons. But they can truly drive a person mad. MAD I tell you!

I loved my husband at one point, more than anything else in this world. I would have robbed a bank, should my soul, swam the ocean. Now, well, I would need a few days to plan.

Why I am I ranting this morning like a lunatic? Because all of these people are driving me totally over the edge. My husband is leaving on an 8 day (Yes Ladies- 8 day!) boys trip and my parents are thinking of driving to Boston and want to take us along. That doesn't sound bad, perhaps.

We are in the midst of refinancing the house and the mortgage company wants 720 different documents-in triplicate-today. The appraisal needs to be scheduled, the house needs to be cleaned, someone has a birthday party tonight and no gift, my dad's wants me to run to Target, I'm getting the insurance re-quoted, the landscape is still not finished, the pre-school needs pre-payment, I haven't been to my once a week job in three weeks and my parents are thinking we could leave for Boston this Friday, maybe?

Are you people insane! My husband's only concerned about his bike being under the plane and whether or not he's going to get a little something something before he leaves on his trip and so after fighting last night because I felt a fever and sore throat coming on and "SO?" I slept on the couch, but didn't really sleep and finally drifted off at 4:00 a.m. and now he's not talking to me.

I just called my Mom and asked if we were or were not going-ON FRIDAY- because I really had to know to plan things like getting the lawn mowed and the house looked after, and the fridge cleaned out, and a Dr. apt scheduled and she said, "We're just not talking about it because it will make your Dad anxious and then his back will flair up so we'll just wait and see." Meanwhile the boys are too quiet and when I go to check on them they immediately start beating on each other and now I have to take the 7 year-olds birthday party away for beating on his brother but I still have to get the bleeping gift and...

DO THESE PEOPLE HAVE ANY IDEA HOW CRAZY THEY MAKE ME!!!!!!!!

When I am locked in the bathroom huddled in a warm tub dressed in my robe singing Cum by Yah will you please look after the children? and tell them their mother loved them very much.

Am I really doing my kids a favor?

I am starting to wonder, Am I truly doing my kids a favor by denying them Mario Bros., McDonald's, Sponge Bob, silly bandz, itunes, and Zilladog, blah blah blah

It's not like they don't have access to these things and when they do - Katy Bar the door! It's like watching monkey's on crack. They get so overstimulated it's almost painful to watch. Not to mention tearing them away.

But what am I really saving them from? Nothing! I'm just making them those goofy kids whose parents won't shell out the money for cable, video games, and the latest toys. And really, that's what it comes down to. If I want to continue to stay at home with my kids, we have to make sacrifices, and I can't stay within a budget and afford all the games, lessons, fads.

But if I went back to work, not only would there be a little more income - I hope, Lord knows childcare is an arm and a leg - but there would be the "G" factor. Women I know that work full-time say that try as they might, they still feel guilty for all the time that you are not there and make up for it with the "cool" stuff.

My husband grew up poor, and not American poor. They went for many years after the war living in the basement storage unit of an apartment building, it wasn't really an apartment. They had no phone, electricity, TV, heat, air, furniture, and many times no food. They've never had a VCR, or a car and sometimes the only appliance was a stove. They sent him to the US as an exchange student and he couldn't call home - they still had no phone. They called him once a week from a pay phone and could only talk for 10 minutes. I could go on, and on...

Needless to say, my husband is overwhelmed with all that we have and what is available to our children. A big house with heat and air, a well stocked fridge, a safe yard, lots of toys, computer, sports teams, etc...and does not think twice about what they do not have. I wish I could be so confident in that decision. I, however, am swayed by the advertisements, neighbors who "have more", and tantrums when they get a glimpse of what they are missing. Ultimately, the American Way.

If only I could fast forward 20 years - It's a bright beautiful June day, not a cloud in the sky and a tall handsome gentlemen steps up to the podium. "Today fellow graduates as we leave these hallowed halls and begin our careers we must look behind and thank all of those people who made this possible. I have to thanks my parents. For never buying into the commercialism, consumerism, and gluttony- Thank you for all those years without cable, video games, and electronics. Thank you and making me use my mind and my own resources to get the technology of the twenty-first century. I wouldn't be where I am today without your help and example!"

Doth a lady ask to much??

Reunited and it feels so...wrong!

You can't make me! You can't make me! You can't make me!

Anyone? Gilligan's Island, remember. Gilligan always said this before they put him in a dress and sent him up a tree to seduce a monkey that held a key part to the radio the Professor was constructing out of a coconut.

In this case it is my 20 year class reunion. Why am I not going you may ask? Because I hated High School as much as it hated me. There was nothing good about it, not even a first love. High school was awful, the people were awful, I was awful.

We can all look back at our teenage angst with more perspective, but it wasn't just angst. There were other bigger issues that made for a very unhappy, unhealthy person. Can't we just leave it there in the past with things like bad perms, big hair, and puffy sleeved prom dresses?

I've read some great books about packs of friends that weather the storms through thick and thin. High school, college, marriage. And even funnier books about high school reunions and what happens there. On second thought, that may have just been my friend Amy's report on her 20 year high school reunion, it was a doozie!

Any way, I can say without an ounce of regret I will not be attending, but I do wish most all of them well. Let's face it, there are a couple of girls I'd like to see humiliated in front of the entire class. But if anyone gets sick on the chicken just remember I wasn't even there!

Happy 4th!!

It is almost the 4th of July, the corn is knee high, and I can smell summer. We are at my parents house for the weekend and I awoke this morning to the sound of a tractor and the smell of fresh alfalfa. The weekend will be filled with fireworks, food, family, and fun. Hey, look at that, I do remember something from English class - alliteration.

I've also been thinking about my Grandparents a lot lately and today, July 1st- 10 years ago- my grandfather died of cancer. We buried him on July 4th. It was bittersweet considering the cancer was ravaging his body. My sister was pregnant with the first grandchild who would be born 7 days later.

My kids are really excited about staying up to watch the fireworks on the 4th. I have not done that since Papa died. I just couldn't. Everyone was tired after the funeral and my father and I went out alone to watch, cry, and say goodbye. I'm not sure how I will feel this year, but I do know that I won't get through the fireworks without a few tears.

Out of the mouthes of babes

The other day when my four-year-old got up from the table and ran to the bathroom. "I have to go potty!."
"Good job making it in time", I call over my shoulder as I continue to make dinner.
"Well, I tinkle a yittle bit in my pants."
"Oh, I'm sorry, that's ok though you made it I'm proud of you", I call over my shoulder distractedly.
"And there's a yittle poops too."
"In your pants?" I say trying not to let the 'You have to be kidding me!' come out in my voice.
"No, in my butt!" he calls back so innocently that I fall to the kitchen floor heaving with laughter. Just where exactly did I think poop came from?

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Our four-year-old bravely gave up his pacifier last week so after four days going cold turkey with only one minor withdraw incident we set out for Toys R Us to get a prize. We went for a Bobcat. Not the animal, the digger that "weally works". After much looking and talking with his seven-year-old brother we came home with a Deluxe Chain Saw and goggles. Now just to remind you, we were at Toys R Us, so there is no chance of this being real. However, by the time we got it home and out of the box it had morphed into the real thing. So both boys head out to the back yard to cut down a tree that had been bothering the seven-year-old, and then I hear it- screaming. Thinking they are fighting over the new toy I head out to see the little one in tears. I stand there for a minute trying to compose myself so that I don't end up pulling a Wal-Mart parenting moment when I hear the problem.
"If you don't hold the tree it will fall on me and I will get dead!"
"It can't fall on you pooper it's not real."
"It is real and the tree will hurt me!"
God love him, he was just trying to be safe.

Father's Day

"Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too"
Daughters by John Mayer

Growing up I had that Dad. You know the one that worked hard and provided for his family, hunted, fished, fixed cars, drank beer, and ruled with an iron fist. Never in all those years of living under his rule did I think it would ever be possible to get a compliment, have a conversation, or ever develop a friendship.

But somewhere along the way, we have found a place to call a relationship. Perhaps it was moving out and having to do things for myself. Perhaps it was having to grow up to be the bread winner for myself. Perhaps it was having two kids that helped put those things from childhood in perspective.

Growing up I think it was easy to compare my dad to others dad's that seemed to be doing a better job. Why can't he be more like Heather's dad, or Teresa's dad, or Daddy Warbucks! I never considered the stories he told about his father when he was growing up. Papa was always good to me, picked us up for ice cream every chance he got! All I could think about my dad was why he wasn't doing things differently.

I heard that John Mayer song that I quoted on Father's Day for the first time. I think I've probably heard it on the radio, but I couldn't understand the words considering half the artists today sound like they are singing with rocks in their mouth. I digress....because the first thing that came to my mind when I heard those lyrics was my dad saying Goodbye to me at the airport when I left for Cyprus.

It was the first time I saw my father cry. No, not cry, he sobbed. Shoulders shaking, breath catching, tears rolling down his face. He hugged me so tight I thought my heart stopped. He told me how much he loved me, and how much he would miss me, and that he thought I was brave. I waited 24 years to hear that.

Yes, my Father and I have found a place. But only after I stopped holding him up to a yardstick that didn't fit. He can't be Heather's dad or even Dr. Huxtible. He only had one dad, one role model and I knew the stories. When I really thought about it, sure my dad had done some things the same, but he had also done some things very differently.

It is not until we experience things in life that we can pass judgment. It is not until you have walked down those roads that you can speak with authority. It is not until we become a parent that we can truly appreciate the journey that our own parents went through. Oh, boy what a journey we have had, right Dad!

I love you. Thanks for feeding, clothing, and sheltering me. Thanks for dance lessons, cars, and gas money. Thanks for college-s, moving vans, moving vans, and more moving vans. Thank you for sticking around, not giving up on me, and for finally telling me how proud you are of the person that I have become - because Dad -you are a huge part of that. And I'm very very proud of that Happy Father's Day.

Summer's in Full swing

Well, my grand plan of peace, harmony, and a glorious summer of love - Not happening! I really do have great children, I think it's me that gets in the way. If left alone they play pretty well together and usually work out their issues - with or without force. The problem is really all me.

I've decided that my expectations are WAY too high. I can not imagine where I get that problem, I feel like growing up there were no expectations of me. Don't get killed, arrested, or pregnant. One out of two ain't bad?

Is it the fact that no one paid attention to me or that they expected so little of me make that makes me a monster mother? It's not like I was raised in a military family but by goodness after I tell my boys once the hair on the back of my neck starts to stand up. Like a caged animal pacing in front of the door at feeding time. I hover waiting to pounce when they do not react the second I give the order.

What the hell's wrong with me? They are 7 and 4! My own husband (who's 39) doesn't react until I've screaming at the top of my lungs or sobbing into a pillow. Why should they be any different? Just today I ripped my sliding closet door off the track and plopped it in the hallway because I haven't been able to open it for three months. It got fixed today!

And Heaven knows it's not like I've stopped screaming. I always have good intentions. I see neighbors, have friends, know people with 5+ children and I've never heard them raise their voice. I marvel, I watch, I ask them what their secret is and always get the same response. "There's no secret to parenting, just lighten up, their only kids."

They are only kids, great kids-with a over anxious, high maintenance, ADD mother - Addicted to Dramatic Disturbances. Maybe I should check out the local theater group, perhaps they are doing Taming of the Shrew.

Doth the lady protest too much?

So after 10 months on the Library's list I finally get a copy of the book, The Help. I am so excited! I got it on Friday and it is Sunday and I am on Chapter 22.

Since I am no longer in a book club I have been living vicariously through my sister and friends and what they are reading. The problem is by the time they give me a few title and I get them from the library, no ones talking about them anymore, but me. But this book still seems to be causing a buzz.

Maybe it is one of those books, like The Kite Runner or The Boy in the Striped Pajamas that tend to touch people on a deeper level. There are books that we read for book club, books we take to the beach, classic we feel we must read but I think the importance of any book is discussing it with others. I don't know how many times when I was in a book club, right after my first son was born, I struggled to get through a book by the third Thursday of the month. Sometimes I did, sometimes I did not. It was always when it was a struggle that I found discussion at book club not less important, but enticing. I would leave saying, now I have to finish this book!

One book in particular comes to mind, Memoirs of a Giesha. I struggled with that book, it felt like Senior English Lit all over again, Yuck! Then I got to book club and someone mentioned it was written by a man. Why hadn't I noticed that? Is he totally gay? How does he get such accurate details of the clothes, of make-up, of women. Then there was the night we discussed The Kite Runner. That book totally changed my life at the time. I quit a job I hated with a boss from hell because of it, and one woman said she found if trite. WHAT!

I love to read and I am devouring The Help like so many great book that I have fallen upon lately, but what I am really dying for, is the discussion. Anyone?

Landscaping adventures..

When we last left the landscaping lommox they were knee deep in do; honey do this, honey do that....

I took before and after pictures of the landscaping, and then my husband lost out camera. So not only do I not have pictures of the landscaping to show you I have also lost the pictures of recent events and the children's antics. Hopefully I have downloaded a majority of said pictures and not all are lost.

Since the landscaping project we have also hosted a guest from Colorado, my husband completed a 9 hour mountain bike race, my 7 year-old had the two best baseball games of his career, and we attended a family wedding. It's been really busy.

The kind of busy that wears you out, but send you to bed feeling full. It is nice to have good friends visit, especially when they live so far away. It is nice to see family that we see only once or twice a year. It is nice to spend the day completely and remember that we are so truly blessed.

Summer has officially started. Even though I know that tomorrow will be the true test because the guest will be gone, the activities done, and the day is uncharted I look forward to meeting it head on. Raise the main sail boys, we're off!

Summers Here!

Ah, Summer. It means something different to everyone. My seven-year-old was in tears because it means "he will never see his friends again". My four-year-old doesn't quite get it and is still telling people he has school on Monday and Tuesday. My husband gets to have a semi-normal work schedule which means we see him before 8:30 at night. What does it mean for me? More work.

Normally I would go into a humorous rant about how living with three boys can drive a woman to drink. But I am really looking forward to this summer. Before you check the blog to make sure it is the Queen of Complaining, I'm still here. But I have really missed having my seven-year-old around.

Three days into Summer vacation look for a blog about how I can't wait for school to start so I've shipped them off to the Military Academy because I know this won't last long. It's like a new romance, we are in the lust stage. The part of the relationship where you dream of all possible; long walks on the beach, stolen moments of peace, and confiding in one another.

I am dreaming of a summer filled with trips to the library for more books, science experiments, lots of crafts, baking cookies, and whole afternoons at the pool. I am dreaming of two brothers giggling and playing with each other under the tree for hours. I am dreaming of a new night time ritual where I wave my hand and say goodnight and they disappear upstairs.

A girl can dream! Can't I?

Memorial Day, not Labor Day!

How do I get myself into these things. After living in this house 6 years without landscaping my husband has decided it's time to remedy the situation. Now?

If it is not apparent from the a fore mentioned time frame, it has only taken 6 years to bother him, now I'm finally over it. But here we are on the eve of Memorial Day weekend planning the great landscape. I'm now thinking I should be planning to just escape.

Have I also mentioned in past blogs how well my husband and I work together? (Note to Microsoft: insert sarcasm font here) And for my "Windows 7" commercial I think Cameron Diaz should play me.

Considering neither of us know what the fern we're doing and my husband is now having a tight ass fit and doesn't want to - splurge - his words on mulch or annuals I don't think this is going to turn out any better than what we have right now.

Perhaps I can figure out how to put up a picture or two of the before, during, and after. If there are no after pictures, one of us didn't make it. Stay Tuned!

Why bother with beauty?

So after almost a year, it was time for a hair cut. I'm not always antsy, depending on how bad last years haircut was, I may wait another 6-12 months. But I was antsy, I have some length so in case they screwed up I could still manage my standard ponytail. My hair was so dry and split at the ends it didn't even feel like hair anymore. It felt like I was tying up a straw bale.

I know women who have had the same haircut for years, go to the same place, the same person. What a gig! Where do I sign-up? I bop around more than a 16 year-old volleyball player without her bra. Finding someone who does a good job is hard enough. Finding one who is still there a year later is impossible.

I've decided that I am going to get a Cosmetologist licence. Why not? Where else could I get paid and tipped to screw up. No where. But yet we do all the time with hairdressers. Please, can we do away with the Kate Gosselin thing - IT'S AWFUL!!!! No one looks good with their hair cut short in the back and long in the front, you look like my four-year-old cut it. My real pet peeve, cutting bangs, that fall in your eyes. Really?

Maybe my expectations are too high. I would just like to pull my hair up when I am working out, or playing with the boys, but be able to let my hair down when I go to the store and not feel like a 40 something wrinkled pasty white mess. Is that too much to ask?

Control Freak + Aniexty Disorder = Bad Parenting

My husband and I were married almost ten years before we had children. Many of those years I was not ready, all of those years my husband was not ready. I once told a very good friend of ours that I thought it was illegal for us to reproduce because we were too much alike-crazy. Knowing us both very well they laughed until beer shot out of their nose and agreed a little too wholeheartedly.

Well, we did it anyway - twice. And there are times when I go to bed thinking, my poor children. My husband is a total control freak and I have suffered with an anxiety disorder ever since I can remember.

Case in point, this weekend. I'm PMS'ing and my husband, oh hell we're both on the rag. Is that too offensive? Sorry, deal with it! Consequently nothing the children have done is right. I tell them to get out of the kitchen and he tells them to go help mom. I send them outside to play and he yells at them to get in the house and clean up.

By now you may be giggling, or calling child protective services. But anywho you are probably assuming that we are, in general, in two separate places when these miscommunication happen. Wrong!

Today while sitting next to my husband I told the kids they could put their suit on and go play in the hose. Which the 7 year-old did immediately. Laughing, giggling, soaking himself not only with water but pure joy. At which time my husband stands up and yells, "We are wasting water, turn off the hose. The ground is over saturated you can fill up a bucket that's enough water."

I asked him to back off, and not very kindly. My mother would have been appalled at the language I chose. Then asked him if his own childhood was really that bad that we had to ruin theirs completely. He shut-up, for awhile. My poor kids!!

Since having children of my own, I have decided that children can not do two things at once - in particular: grow and listen.

Maybe it is just my children? Maybe it is just boys? But it has been my experience that we go through times of peace and times of war. Peace never lasts long enough though let me tell you.

When the kids are growing, physically or mentally, they can not hear me. Stay in the house until I get supper ready then we will go outside. BANG! the front door slams - they are outside. Stop yelling at your brother that hurts my heart, I DIDN'T YELL AT HIM!!!!!!! I wouldn't put that bath toy on my pee-pee if I were you because you may not - HELP, HELP, HELP!! Hello, McFly! You see where I am going with this.

Parenting books advice giving them room to grow. How much room do they need? Would an 8x8 ft cell be sufficient, just until this growing thing passes.

The power of ice cream

Blame it on the rain! yeah, yeah.....OK I don't even remember the rest of that song, but the chorus was brilliant. Blame it on the Rain!

We really had a beautiful April, not the showers that you are suppose to have so now we are paying for it. It feels like 40 days an 40 nights. When will the madness end. Usually I like a rainy day, just like a snow day it give you an excuse to kick back, slow down, watch a movie in the middle of the day. But when it goes on and on it starts to affect my mood.

Problems seem bigger, tasks seem harder, the world a little darker. Time for ice cream! Not just any ice cream will do, it has to be the $2.50 a scoop, high fat, French recipe that could just be applied to my hips. I'm not just making this up either - I've read it. There is a scientific reason for craving high fat foods that has to do with your endorphins. That's good enough for me so let me say...

I scream, you scream, we all scream for Ice Cream!