The Mother Hen is Back
I have gone back to being a stay at home mom; after much discussion and prayer I asked Al if I could only work one day a week and he said yes so now I'm back to blogging. You may wonder how the connection works. Well you see, when you are a SAHM you have to do a lot of housework and before you do a lot of housework you have to sufficiently procrastinate and blogging is the perfect procrastination tool. You with me?
I've missed blogging. Mostly I've missed you coming up to me or commenting and telling me how funny I am but I'll play it cool and just say I've missed blogging.
All sorts of things have happened since I last blogged, the biggest being that my sweet Gigi has gone to Heaven. This alone is like 14 of its very own posts. My emotional breakdown and long road back to a somewhat stable mental state is a couple more posts. I'm not in the dig deep emotional place this morning so instead I will tell you that I learned to crochet while I was in Montana (you will read later that I was there for almost a month, taking care of Gigi and being with my Mama). Turns out I'm not great at crocheting but I love it. Seriously, love.it. On Pinterest I pin all these wonderful and adorable things I want to crochet but the fact is that I only know one stitch and want to stay married. If I took the time to make all that cute stuff Hot Jeff would most certainly leave me for a cooler wife. One who vacuums and doesn't crochet all day long. I can crochet his new wife a nice scarf.
Samuel started Kindergarten and loves it. He's amazing. The other day he was talking to his dad about "tag" and I only caught like 2 other words besides "tag" and I thought he was talking about the Talented And Gifted program but it turns out he was talking about the playground game so he's not that amazing but amazing still. Ha!
Emily started preschool and then dropped out of preschool so we're pretty sure she has solidified herself a career of walking the streets but we let her dropout anyway. She loved it but said she "wanted to stay home with Mommy." Who can blame her? I'm buckets of fun. Roo didn't need preschool the way that Samuel did so we relented and we'll put her in next year to make sure she's Kindergarten ready. We're going to put her in a dance class instead. That way she can work on her moves and maybe be a pole dancer to supplement her street walking career when she inevitably drops out of high school.
Roo's most exciting news is that she asked Jesus into her heart! This too warrants its own post...but I'm just catching you up on the Henderson news.
I know this post is a little lame and I'm already bored with it; I suppose it is going to take a little bit of time to get back into the blogging frame of mind. Good thing my laundry and dishes never stop to help inspire me!
Showing posts with label The good and the bad and the boring-daily life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The good and the bad and the boring-daily life. Show all posts
Monday, October 24, 2011
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A Lot of Catching Up To Do
You know it has been a long time since you blogged when a friend who like doesn't even have an internet connection (yes, I'm talking to you Bex) tells you that you need to blog. It has been so long since I blogged that Bestie Maryanne has stopped asking. Bestie Kim is down to checking once every 3 days. It is so sad. So sad.
Sometimes I think that I just can't come up with anything funny but I know that isn't true because my Facebook posts continue to be hil.ar.i.ous so maybe that it is that I just can't be funnier for longer than 240 characters? Do you think Facebook has ruined what would be my wonderful, blooming, blogging career?
Since I promised a blog post--tonight--I will write about the golden silence in my homestead right now. It is 8:30 on a Summer night and my kiddos are next door tormenting Melissa. It is blissful. I can hear them so I know they are happy and well cared for yet they are not here tormenting me. 8:30 is SOOO past their bedtime but don't you just love Summer and breaking all the bedtime rules?
On Monday I realized that I had cleaned my kitchen and living room (Which room is the living room? The one with the TV? Or is that the family room? I can never remember. In my world the living room is the room with the TV.) no less than 4 times. FOUR TIMES. That included vacuuming. My kids aren't exactly hoarders, I'm not sure what you would call them, but I am certain TLC could make a reality show out of them and what filthy little children they are. Not only filthy but messy. Even after I bathe them they manage to get sticky. It is like our whole house is made of syrup and they are incapable of not getting sticky. They are also incapable of not bringing toys downstairs from their bedrooms or the bonus room. They somehow have become convinced that the world is their oyster and my house is the epicenter of that oyster, the epicenter where they can just spread their toys and cars and babies and legos and foam swords all over and then when told to take them back upstairs claim that those very same toys are "too heavy."
Since I started typing this, Hot Jeff has brought them in, marveled at their filthiness and is now appropriately giving them a bath. I heart him.
So what else is going on in the Mother Hen's world?
Well we got a dog. And even more amusing than the fact that we got a dog is how we got a dog. First: I am not a dog person. I don't like dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, neighbor dogs. The only kind of dog I like is a rescue dog and only if I am the one s/he is rescuing.
So one weekend Hot Jeff went to the Deschutes for some testosterone time and the kids and I had some time on our hands. Hot Jeff and I had briefly discussed getting a lab. And when I say "briefly discussed" I mean like Jeff said, "Boy, it would be fun to have a dog." And I said, "Maybe." and the kids said, "Yah. Wahoo. Can we have pie?" (They are very random like that.) So anyway, as a means to kill time (and to tangibly show my kids what a poorly thought out decision looks like) I decided to take them to the Humane Society. Um, yes, the Humane Society. I don't know whatever possessed me to do this other than sheer lack of sleep and adult conversation.
We walked in and I said, "Do you have any puppies?" Maryanne has since told me that when you go to the Pound and ask if there are puppies AND you have two preschoolers in tow, that automatically translates in Humane Society language to "I am a sucker. If you show me a puppy with sweet eyes AND A FREAKING CONE OF SHAME (e-collar) on its neck, I will pay you a ridiculous amount of money to take that dog home with me."
You see...I really didn't want a puppy. But I certainly wasn't going to traumatize my children by taking them back to see the nasty, lice infested, found under a bridge dogs...what kind of mother do you think I am? So puppies it was.
There were 5 puppies in the kennel. The first one not only had the cone of shame on but it only had 3 legs. Are you kidding me? You would have to be dead inside to not take that dog home. Fortunately for Tri-Pod it had a nice family of 5 cooing over her. I lingered at the second kennel and pondered the smell in the air when Samuel's shrieking pulled me back to reality. He and Roo were kneeling in front of a kennel that held the little bittiest, sweetest black puppy I had ever seen. The HS volunteer, trained to watch for signs of weakness, must have seen me start to lactate a bit and said, "Would you and your kids like to go play with her in a private room?"
If you don't speak Humane Society, as Maryanne does, then you should be warned that this does not mean its 10 minutes of your kids rolling around with a pup, you take the pup back and everyone has their puppy fix. I quickly learned this as I, like a sucker, said, "Sure."
She escorted us to a little concrete room with one chair in it. The room was designed to make you feel bad about any living thing who had to permanently reside in this drab, dreary, depressing place. The volunteer told us the dog's name was "Maggie" and before she could get any further Roo exclaimed confidently that we would change her name because we already had a Baby Maggie. Taken back by her sweetness and affinity for Maggie DeBacker, I didn't even notice how Roo had already decided we would be taking this dog home. Roo, you are so smooth. I am not only impressed but threatened.
We played with the pup for almost 30 minutes all while the volunteer "interviewed" me. I explained to her that I wasn't really in the market for a dog, that my husband didn't like "little" dogs and that he wasn't even in town to run the decision by. She then proceeded to tell me about the "hold" policy...
It was time to take Puppy Maggie back to her kennel and the volunteer knew she had me right where she wanted me when I told her that I couldn't be the one to take the puppy back, it would just make me too sad. Sucker.
Cleverly I had taken pictures of the kids playing with the dog and texted one to Jeff. Not expecting him to have cell coverage well past the time the HS closed I sent him a picture of the puppy on Samuel's lap and wrote, "We have something to ask you." He surprisingly responded in minutes with, "What kind is it?" Here is the transcript of our texting...
J: Little. Chiuaua? Pomeranian? Terrier? Full blood mutt.
HJ: Absolutely not. No way. Don't get the kids' hopes up.
J: Too late.
HJ: Jen...
J: She is really sweet. Samuel is crazy about her. I think it would be good for them.
HJ: No response.
J: Kids need a dog.
JH: You hate dogs.
J: Not this one. We have a hold on her until 7 tomorrow. You can think about it.
HJ: The kids like her? Even Roo?
J: Love her.
HJ: How much?
J: What? You're cutting out.
HJ: How much is she?
J: I'm surprised you have coverage. Did you have fun?
HJ: How long is the hold?
J: Until 7 tomorrow. There is a 30 day return policy.
HJ: Go get her.
This is how the Henderson family makes decisions. Half-assed. This is what I love about us.
Before we left we sent him a video of the kids going bonkers because Daddy had said yes.
The rest is history. Now we have a sweet, sweet puppy named Casey (after the Beavers baseball coach who lead the team to back to back College World Series wins) and why I have a discussion happening AT THIS VERY MOMENT on my Facebook Wall about dog's anal sacks. In addition, I dress her in cute little outfits and carry her in a dog purse while shopping at Target. I am totally all Paris Hilton about this dog. For the record, I still hate all other dogs though and Christy Lowry your video of Ditka pulling out your daughter's tooth almost made me vomit. I did find it highly entertaining though which eventually won out over it's vomit factor.
Wow, that took a long time. Now I'm too tired to write about how I got a Smart Phone and how I love it even more than my stainless steel dishwasher, which up until I got the Smart Phone, was my favorite thing in the whole wide world. I named my Smart Phone Lola.
Of course I did.
J-Bang out.
You know it has been a long time since you blogged when a friend who like doesn't even have an internet connection (yes, I'm talking to you Bex) tells you that you need to blog. It has been so long since I blogged that Bestie Maryanne has stopped asking. Bestie Kim is down to checking once every 3 days. It is so sad. So sad.
Sometimes I think that I just can't come up with anything funny but I know that isn't true because my Facebook posts continue to be hil.ar.i.ous so maybe that it is that I just can't be funnier for longer than 240 characters? Do you think Facebook has ruined what would be my wonderful, blooming, blogging career?
Since I promised a blog post--tonight--I will write about the golden silence in my homestead right now. It is 8:30 on a Summer night and my kiddos are next door tormenting Melissa. It is blissful. I can hear them so I know they are happy and well cared for yet they are not here tormenting me. 8:30 is SOOO past their bedtime but don't you just love Summer and breaking all the bedtime rules?
On Monday I realized that I had cleaned my kitchen and living room (Which room is the living room? The one with the TV? Or is that the family room? I can never remember. In my world the living room is the room with the TV.) no less than 4 times. FOUR TIMES. That included vacuuming. My kids aren't exactly hoarders, I'm not sure what you would call them, but I am certain TLC could make a reality show out of them and what filthy little children they are. Not only filthy but messy. Even after I bathe them they manage to get sticky. It is like our whole house is made of syrup and they are incapable of not getting sticky. They are also incapable of not bringing toys downstairs from their bedrooms or the bonus room. They somehow have become convinced that the world is their oyster and my house is the epicenter of that oyster, the epicenter where they can just spread their toys and cars and babies and legos and foam swords all over and then when told to take them back upstairs claim that those very same toys are "too heavy."
Since I started typing this, Hot Jeff has brought them in, marveled at their filthiness and is now appropriately giving them a bath. I heart him.
So what else is going on in the Mother Hen's world?
Well we got a dog. And even more amusing than the fact that we got a dog is how we got a dog. First: I am not a dog person. I don't like dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, neighbor dogs. The only kind of dog I like is a rescue dog and only if I am the one s/he is rescuing.
So one weekend Hot Jeff went to the Deschutes for some testosterone time and the kids and I had some time on our hands. Hot Jeff and I had briefly discussed getting a lab. And when I say "briefly discussed" I mean like Jeff said, "Boy, it would be fun to have a dog." And I said, "Maybe." and the kids said, "Yah. Wahoo. Can we have pie?" (They are very random like that.) So anyway, as a means to kill time (and to tangibly show my kids what a poorly thought out decision looks like) I decided to take them to the Humane Society. Um, yes, the Humane Society. I don't know whatever possessed me to do this other than sheer lack of sleep and adult conversation.
We walked in and I said, "Do you have any puppies?" Maryanne has since told me that when you go to the Pound and ask if there are puppies AND you have two preschoolers in tow, that automatically translates in Humane Society language to "I am a sucker. If you show me a puppy with sweet eyes AND A FREAKING CONE OF SHAME (e-collar) on its neck, I will pay you a ridiculous amount of money to take that dog home with me."
You see...I really didn't want a puppy. But I certainly wasn't going to traumatize my children by taking them back to see the nasty, lice infested, found under a bridge dogs...what kind of mother do you think I am? So puppies it was.
There were 5 puppies in the kennel. The first one not only had the cone of shame on but it only had 3 legs. Are you kidding me? You would have to be dead inside to not take that dog home. Fortunately for Tri-Pod it had a nice family of 5 cooing over her. I lingered at the second kennel and pondered the smell in the air when Samuel's shrieking pulled me back to reality. He and Roo were kneeling in front of a kennel that held the little bittiest, sweetest black puppy I had ever seen. The HS volunteer, trained to watch for signs of weakness, must have seen me start to lactate a bit and said, "Would you and your kids like to go play with her in a private room?"
If you don't speak Humane Society, as Maryanne does, then you should be warned that this does not mean its 10 minutes of your kids rolling around with a pup, you take the pup back and everyone has their puppy fix. I quickly learned this as I, like a sucker, said, "Sure."
She escorted us to a little concrete room with one chair in it. The room was designed to make you feel bad about any living thing who had to permanently reside in this drab, dreary, depressing place. The volunteer told us the dog's name was "Maggie" and before she could get any further Roo exclaimed confidently that we would change her name because we already had a Baby Maggie. Taken back by her sweetness and affinity for Maggie DeBacker, I didn't even notice how Roo had already decided we would be taking this dog home. Roo, you are so smooth. I am not only impressed but threatened.
We played with the pup for almost 30 minutes all while the volunteer "interviewed" me. I explained to her that I wasn't really in the market for a dog, that my husband didn't like "little" dogs and that he wasn't even in town to run the decision by. She then proceeded to tell me about the "hold" policy...
It was time to take Puppy Maggie back to her kennel and the volunteer knew she had me right where she wanted me when I told her that I couldn't be the one to take the puppy back, it would just make me too sad. Sucker.
Cleverly I had taken pictures of the kids playing with the dog and texted one to Jeff. Not expecting him to have cell coverage well past the time the HS closed I sent him a picture of the puppy on Samuel's lap and wrote, "We have something to ask you." He surprisingly responded in minutes with, "What kind is it?" Here is the transcript of our texting...
J: Little. Chiuaua? Pomeranian? Terrier? Full blood mutt.
HJ: Absolutely not. No way. Don't get the kids' hopes up.
J: Too late.
HJ: Jen...
J: She is really sweet. Samuel is crazy about her. I think it would be good for them.
HJ: No response.
J: Kids need a dog.
JH: You hate dogs.
J: Not this one. We have a hold on her until 7 tomorrow. You can think about it.
HJ: The kids like her? Even Roo?
J: Love her.
HJ: How much?
J: What? You're cutting out.
HJ: How much is she?
J: I'm surprised you have coverage. Did you have fun?
HJ: How long is the hold?
J: Until 7 tomorrow. There is a 30 day return policy.
HJ: Go get her.
This is how the Henderson family makes decisions. Half-assed. This is what I love about us.
Before we left we sent him a video of the kids going bonkers because Daddy had said yes.
The rest is history. Now we have a sweet, sweet puppy named Casey (after the Beavers baseball coach who lead the team to back to back College World Series wins) and why I have a discussion happening AT THIS VERY MOMENT on my Facebook Wall about dog's anal sacks. In addition, I dress her in cute little outfits and carry her in a dog purse while shopping at Target. I am totally all Paris Hilton about this dog. For the record, I still hate all other dogs though and Christy Lowry your video of Ditka pulling out your daughter's tooth almost made me vomit. I did find it highly entertaining though which eventually won out over it's vomit factor.
Wow, that took a long time. Now I'm too tired to write about how I got a Smart Phone and how I love it even more than my stainless steel dishwasher, which up until I got the Smart Phone, was my favorite thing in the whole wide world. I named my Smart Phone Lola.
Of course I did.
J-Bang out.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
I don't really have anything to write about but my "fans" are demanding some new material. And when I say "fans" I mean 2 people and when I say "demanding" I mean they both Facebooked me about it.
I don't have anything interesting to say. Not a thing. Well I guess I do have one thing to say, today I braided Emily's hair in a way that it made her look like Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. It was accidental but all she needed was some little pointy ears and a bow and arrow and she would have been set.
You other bloggers may understand how sometimes material is just flowing out of you and you just can't write fast enough but then other times, like lately, nothing seems blog-worthy.
Oh, oh...I just thought of something. Last night in the middle of the night, Samuel came barging in to my room crying and saying, "I swallowed some hair and now my brains are going to fall out." I said, "Swallowing hair doesn't make your brains fall out" to which he replied, "You said if Em and I ate hair our brains would fall out."
Here's the amazing part, somehow in the middle of the night I was able to reason where he was coming up with such nonsense and I said, "I did not say that. I said that if you chewed your nails and ate your finger nails you would have to have your appendix out. Now go back to bed." Smarty pants replied, "I'm going to go to bed and eat 100 pieces of hair and you're going to find my brains all over the bed."
Wow. He may be a fuzz crazy.
I don't have anything interesting to say. Not a thing. Well I guess I do have one thing to say, today I braided Emily's hair in a way that it made her look like Legolas from The Lord of the Rings. It was accidental but all she needed was some little pointy ears and a bow and arrow and she would have been set.
You other bloggers may understand how sometimes material is just flowing out of you and you just can't write fast enough but then other times, like lately, nothing seems blog-worthy.
Oh, oh...I just thought of something. Last night in the middle of the night, Samuel came barging in to my room crying and saying, "I swallowed some hair and now my brains are going to fall out." I said, "Swallowing hair doesn't make your brains fall out" to which he replied, "You said if Em and I ate hair our brains would fall out."
Here's the amazing part, somehow in the middle of the night I was able to reason where he was coming up with such nonsense and I said, "I did not say that. I said that if you chewed your nails and ate your finger nails you would have to have your appendix out. Now go back to bed." Smarty pants replied, "I'm going to go to bed and eat 100 pieces of hair and you're going to find my brains all over the bed."
Wow. He may be a fuzz crazy.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Random Musings
Tonight I fed my husband and children a smattering of things I found at Safeway and called it a well-balanced meal. Salami & cheese on a baguette, tomato-basil soup (my latest obsession) and bananas. What kind of mother am I?
I came home to a house that looks like a tornado ran through it and I'm thinking of hiring a housekeeper and chef and see if they'll let me pay them in compliments.
I have to take a minimum of 2 weeks off from Boot Camp because it appears I have plantar fasciitis. I'm going to go to a spinning class that meets at the same time instead. Boot Camp Tina said it's a "hell ride." If BC Tina is calling it a hell ride I wonder if I'm going to come out of this alive? I'm taking holy water in with me.
Wanna know the best part of the plantar fasciitis "diagnosis?" Well you know I'm seeing a local podiatrist but I felt like I needed a 2nd opinion so I Facebook messaged Eric the not-a-bastard anymore. He's an orthopedic PA and had all sorts of good information for me. Because it was so much information he ended up calling and discussing it with me and I am telling you that it was only really strange to hear from my college boyfriend, whom I haven't spoken to in like 15 years (besides FB) for foot advice for the first few minutes.
I think when 20/20 does those shows on how evil/wonderful Facebook is they should include my foot story. I personally think I have a whole lot going on that would be very interesting to the American public and that 20/20 should just follow me around with cameras for a good week or so.
Button. Have you noticed the rockin' button Heather over At The Picket Fence made me? How great is she? I have a big ol' girly cyber crush on her and her sister, Vanessa. See the code below the button? Now you can put my button on your blog and give me lots of publicity so I don't have to pay my new housekeeper and chef in compliments.
And finally. Lots of you have been asking about Boot Camp and where you too can go sign up for this particular brand of hellish torture and I have good news for you. For the rest of THIS MONTH if you go to the YMCA downtown and tell them you heard about them through The Mother Hen blog you will get your $99 initiation fee waived! How about that? And when you are so sore you can't get out of bed and all you can do is lay there and read archived posts from this blog you will thank me.
Tonight I fed my husband and children a smattering of things I found at Safeway and called it a well-balanced meal. Salami & cheese on a baguette, tomato-basil soup (my latest obsession) and bananas. What kind of mother am I?
I came home to a house that looks like a tornado ran through it and I'm thinking of hiring a housekeeper and chef and see if they'll let me pay them in compliments.
I have to take a minimum of 2 weeks off from Boot Camp because it appears I have plantar fasciitis. I'm going to go to a spinning class that meets at the same time instead. Boot Camp Tina said it's a "hell ride." If BC Tina is calling it a hell ride I wonder if I'm going to come out of this alive? I'm taking holy water in with me.
Wanna know the best part of the plantar fasciitis "diagnosis?" Well you know I'm seeing a local podiatrist but I felt like I needed a 2nd opinion so I Facebook messaged Eric the not-a-bastard anymore. He's an orthopedic PA and had all sorts of good information for me. Because it was so much information he ended up calling and discussing it with me and I am telling you that it was only really strange to hear from my college boyfriend, whom I haven't spoken to in like 15 years (besides FB) for foot advice for the first few minutes.
I think when 20/20 does those shows on how evil/wonderful Facebook is they should include my foot story. I personally think I have a whole lot going on that would be very interesting to the American public and that 20/20 should just follow me around with cameras for a good week or so.
Button. Have you noticed the rockin' button Heather over At The Picket Fence made me? How great is she? I have a big ol' girly cyber crush on her and her sister, Vanessa. See the code below the button? Now you can put my button on your blog and give me lots of publicity so I don't have to pay my new housekeeper and chef in compliments.
And finally. Lots of you have been asking about Boot Camp and where you too can go sign up for this particular brand of hellish torture and I have good news for you. For the rest of THIS MONTH if you go to the YMCA downtown and tell them you heard about them through The Mother Hen blog you will get your $99 initiation fee waived! How about that? And when you are so sore you can't get out of bed and all you can do is lay there and read archived posts from this blog you will thank me.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Devil Lives in Cone Lunges
I made it to Boot Camp today. I got my butt handed to me on a sweaty platter. Oddly it felt wonderful. Thankfully my pants were black.
What is it about that class that is so addictive? I wish I knew so I could cut it out and go back to sleeping in. My arm held out great--thank You Jesus. There is something to be said about adrenaline and every other part of your body being on fire to make the pain in your arm dissipate.
On an unrelated note, Molly died. Seriously. Why can't this family keep a hamster alive? I swear I am doing everything right yet this is the second one to die after having her for only 6 weeks. Even though we all seemed to be a lot more attached to Molly than Riley there weren't as many tears. In fact, there weren't any tears at all up until I told Samuel we weren't going to get another hamster. Hot Jeff piped in and said we could get a dog. What??? A dog? Why would I add a 3rd factor in to the ruin-Jen's-carpet equation?
On another unrelated note, I am having my sleep evaluated tonight at Willamette Sleep Center. I have to be there at 7pm--that's like a whole 3 hours before I go to bed! It sounds positively delightful. The rooms are so cozy and there is a big TV and wireless internet. Sounds dreamy to me--I'll probably sleep wonderfully and they'll tell me there's nothing wrong with me. More to come on the sleep study experience for sure!
So on this sunny Monday morning I am thankful for sleep studies and friends who are holding me accountable. What are you thankful for today?
I made it to Boot Camp today. I got my butt handed to me on a sweaty platter. Oddly it felt wonderful. Thankfully my pants were black.
What is it about that class that is so addictive? I wish I knew so I could cut it out and go back to sleeping in. My arm held out great--thank You Jesus. There is something to be said about adrenaline and every other part of your body being on fire to make the pain in your arm dissipate.
On an unrelated note, Molly died. Seriously. Why can't this family keep a hamster alive? I swear I am doing everything right yet this is the second one to die after having her for only 6 weeks. Even though we all seemed to be a lot more attached to Molly than Riley there weren't as many tears. In fact, there weren't any tears at all up until I told Samuel we weren't going to get another hamster. Hot Jeff piped in and said we could get a dog. What??? A dog? Why would I add a 3rd factor in to the ruin-Jen's-carpet equation?
On another unrelated note, I am having my sleep evaluated tonight at Willamette Sleep Center. I have to be there at 7pm--that's like a whole 3 hours before I go to bed! It sounds positively delightful. The rooms are so cozy and there is a big TV and wireless internet. Sounds dreamy to me--I'll probably sleep wonderfully and they'll tell me there's nothing wrong with me. More to come on the sleep study experience for sure!
So on this sunny Monday morning I am thankful for sleep studies and friends who are holding me accountable. What are you thankful for today?
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
The Naughty List
So it turns out BlogHer is paying attention. After a whole month of not blogging, BlogHer contacted me by email. In the subject line it said, "We've Missed You". Isn't that nice? Don't you wish that every time you were a month late on something you were reminded in such a kind way? Nevertheless, I think I am on BlogHer's naughty list so I'm putting out a blog post to try and get back on the paycheck list.
So here it is...the long awaited post. Last week Shannon told me all she wanted for Christmas was a blog post. So I took back the diamond necklace I had gotten her and am giving her what she wanted. My Mom asked me when I was going to post again. Even Karen Garcia asked me when I was going to write again and I didn't even know Karen Garcia read this blog.
Its shameful really. November was blog month and so all my blogging friends were blogging once a day and I only blogged once the WHOLE MONTH. I think it was a sub-conscience defiance against National Blogging Month. I think it is similar to how I refused to read the Harry Potter books when everyone else was reading them. And the Twilight books. Well actually I refused to read the Twilight books because I don't have braces anymore. I believe only girls who are young enough to have braces should read the Twilight series. I sort of feel this way about Taylor Swift as well. And Justin Bieber.
Does anyone else think Taylor Swift's music all sounds the same? I really like her December something or other song but I pretty much break out in hives when I hear most of her music. And don't even get me started on that song of her's about Tim McGraw.
Since I posted last Samuel has gotten over Liesl and now is in to Jessie from Toy Story. At least Samuel had good taste. Speaking of Samuel's good taste, the other day I could hear him in the bathroom going number two and singing a Lady Antebellum song. From the downstairs bathroom I heard, "Its a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now". I know I should be a little mortified that Samuel is singing a song with the word 'drunk' in it but I was just so pleased that he was singing a great song and got the words right.
Also since I posted last our hamster, Coach Riley, died. It was a freak thing and is accompanied by a funny story. I'm going to try and shock the world and write about it tomorrow. You're welcome.
So it turns out BlogHer is paying attention. After a whole month of not blogging, BlogHer contacted me by email. In the subject line it said, "We've Missed You". Isn't that nice? Don't you wish that every time you were a month late on something you were reminded in such a kind way? Nevertheless, I think I am on BlogHer's naughty list so I'm putting out a blog post to try and get back on the paycheck list.
So here it is...the long awaited post. Last week Shannon told me all she wanted for Christmas was a blog post. So I took back the diamond necklace I had gotten her and am giving her what she wanted. My Mom asked me when I was going to post again. Even Karen Garcia asked me when I was going to write again and I didn't even know Karen Garcia read this blog.
Its shameful really. November was blog month and so all my blogging friends were blogging once a day and I only blogged once the WHOLE MONTH. I think it was a sub-conscience defiance against National Blogging Month. I think it is similar to how I refused to read the Harry Potter books when everyone else was reading them. And the Twilight books. Well actually I refused to read the Twilight books because I don't have braces anymore. I believe only girls who are young enough to have braces should read the Twilight series. I sort of feel this way about Taylor Swift as well. And Justin Bieber.
Does anyone else think Taylor Swift's music all sounds the same? I really like her December something or other song but I pretty much break out in hives when I hear most of her music. And don't even get me started on that song of her's about Tim McGraw.
Since I posted last Samuel has gotten over Liesl and now is in to Jessie from Toy Story. At least Samuel had good taste. Speaking of Samuel's good taste, the other day I could hear him in the bathroom going number two and singing a Lady Antebellum song. From the downstairs bathroom I heard, "Its a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now". I know I should be a little mortified that Samuel is singing a song with the word 'drunk' in it but I was just so pleased that he was singing a great song and got the words right.
Also since I posted last our hamster, Coach Riley, died. It was a freak thing and is accompanied by a funny story. I'm going to try and shock the world and write about it tomorrow. You're welcome.
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Coach, We Love You So Much We Named Our Hamster After You
About a month ago Samuel asked Hot Jeff if we could get a hamster. Hot Jeff replied, "No way. Those things stink." Samuel pouted for about 45 seconds and moved on.
A few days ago Samuel asked Jeff again (I love his determination; I think he gets that from me.) and Hot Jeff says, "Sure." Sure? I questioned him, "I thought you said we couldn't get one because they stink?" Hot Jeff: "I never said that." Me: blank stare. Samuel: happy dance.
This afternoon Samuel, Emily and I were all curled up in the big bed having some afternoon down time and watching The Secret Garden. I knew if I didn't get up and get moving I was going to fall asleep and wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so I said it..."Wanna go get a hamster?"
Yeah. They did. Yeah, go ahead and comment about what a stupid question that was.
We hustled off to Petco. While we drove out there we discussed names. Samuel shouted out 'Pawnee'. What the heck? Pawnee? I can only assume that is his Native American heritage coming out in him. Pawnee? Really Samuel?
Emily tossed out 'Peanut'. I liked Peanut. Very cute. I tossed out 'Maple Syrup' and just calling him 'Maple'. The kids liked it and it got them thinking down the food-name-road. Samuel threw out 'Taco'. Taco. I couldn't stop laughing and for that reason alone decided we just had to name our hamster 'Taco'. He was probably going to end up being taco meat after all. I wanted to throw out my other inappropriate names but didn't want to frighten the children. I liked, 'Tastes Like Chicken' or 'Number One' as in we'll-be-getting-number-two-after-this-one-dies.
We talked names the whole 10 minutes to Petco and as we pulled in to the parking lot Samuel shouted out, "What about Shacky?" I swear I have NO idea where he comes up with these names. With the exception of 'Taco' that kid is quite possibly the worst hamster namer in the whole world! The suggestion, however, got me thinking of Shaq and other sports names and then I had it! Jacquizz! Jacquizz is the star running back for Oregon State and our whole family loves him. I said, "I've got it! How about Jacquizz?" Samuel cheered and Emily screeched, "Jacquizz Rodgers!" It was awesome. I was very proud.
Once inside we found that the male hamsters were a little nippy. Not one for rodent bites or rabies, I asked about the females. Samuel, not one to miss a beat, says "We can't name a girl Jacquizz." He may not be able to name a hamster but the kid is bright as a light. I started thinking about female Beaver names. Oh you know it...Riley! After the beloved Coach Riley. Someday I'll tell you how I got Coach Riley to call Hot Jeff on his 34th birthday. Maybe I'll tell you that story on Wednesday, Jeff's birthday and then you will all want to be married to me because it is quite simply the.best.story.ever and it really makes me sound like an awesome wife. Which I was. Before I had kids. Now I'm just pretty average. An awesome average but average none the less. Speaking of awesome-average, who thinks I cursed Hot Jeff with his "40 Rocks" birthday cake?
Its almost 10:00 now and the kiddos are in bed. Riley is in her Taj Mahal cage and I can hear her little exercise wheel going, going, going. Did I mention they are nocturnal? I'm glad it doesn't squeak because it is in Samuel's room. Don't feel bad for Roo, tomorrow it will be in her room. They love her. We are all kind of enamored with her actually. Well except Hailey the Wonder Cat who is convinced that Jeff and I lost our ever loving minds 4 years ago when we brought a screaming infant home. That was also the same day she began holding a grudge against me because she saw that I could produce milk from my breasts. The first time Hailey saw me breast feeding Samuel she had this pissy look on her face that said, "What? You make milk? You have been holding out on me. You are dead to me."
Don't get any ideas Riley. I don't milk anymore.
About a month ago Samuel asked Hot Jeff if we could get a hamster. Hot Jeff replied, "No way. Those things stink." Samuel pouted for about 45 seconds and moved on.
A few days ago Samuel asked Jeff again (I love his determination; I think he gets that from me.) and Hot Jeff says, "Sure." Sure? I questioned him, "I thought you said we couldn't get one because they stink?" Hot Jeff: "I never said that." Me: blank stare. Samuel: happy dance.
This afternoon Samuel, Emily and I were all curled up in the big bed having some afternoon down time and watching The Secret Garden. I knew if I didn't get up and get moving I was going to fall asleep and wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so I said it..."Wanna go get a hamster?"
Yeah. They did. Yeah, go ahead and comment about what a stupid question that was.
We hustled off to Petco. While we drove out there we discussed names. Samuel shouted out 'Pawnee'. What the heck? Pawnee? I can only assume that is his Native American heritage coming out in him. Pawnee? Really Samuel?
Emily tossed out 'Peanut'. I liked Peanut. Very cute. I tossed out 'Maple Syrup' and just calling him 'Maple'. The kids liked it and it got them thinking down the food-name-road. Samuel threw out 'Taco'. Taco. I couldn't stop laughing and for that reason alone decided we just had to name our hamster 'Taco'. He was probably going to end up being taco meat after all. I wanted to throw out my other inappropriate names but didn't want to frighten the children. I liked, 'Tastes Like Chicken' or 'Number One' as in we'll-be-getting-number-two-after-this-one-dies.
We talked names the whole 10 minutes to Petco and as we pulled in to the parking lot Samuel shouted out, "What about Shacky?" I swear I have NO idea where he comes up with these names. With the exception of 'Taco' that kid is quite possibly the worst hamster namer in the whole world! The suggestion, however, got me thinking of Shaq and other sports names and then I had it! Jacquizz! Jacquizz is the star running back for Oregon State and our whole family loves him. I said, "I've got it! How about Jacquizz?" Samuel cheered and Emily screeched, "Jacquizz Rodgers!" It was awesome. I was very proud.
Once inside we found that the male hamsters were a little nippy. Not one for rodent bites or rabies, I asked about the females. Samuel, not one to miss a beat, says "We can't name a girl Jacquizz." He may not be able to name a hamster but the kid is bright as a light. I started thinking about female Beaver names. Oh you know it...Riley! After the beloved Coach Riley. Someday I'll tell you how I got Coach Riley to call Hot Jeff on his 34th birthday. Maybe I'll tell you that story on Wednesday, Jeff's birthday and then you will all want to be married to me because it is quite simply the.best.story.ever and it really makes me sound like an awesome wife. Which I was. Before I had kids. Now I'm just pretty average. An awesome average but average none the less. Speaking of awesome-average, who thinks I cursed Hot Jeff with his "40 Rocks" birthday cake?
Its almost 10:00 now and the kiddos are in bed. Riley is in her Taj Mahal cage and I can hear her little exercise wheel going, going, going. Did I mention they are nocturnal? I'm glad it doesn't squeak because it is in Samuel's room. Don't feel bad for Roo, tomorrow it will be in her room. They love her. We are all kind of enamored with her actually. Well except Hailey the Wonder Cat who is convinced that Jeff and I lost our ever loving minds 4 years ago when we brought a screaming infant home. That was also the same day she began holding a grudge against me because she saw that I could produce milk from my breasts. The first time Hailey saw me breast feeding Samuel she had this pissy look on her face that said, "What? You make milk? You have been holding out on me. You are dead to me."
Don't get any ideas Riley. I don't milk anymore.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
There Is No G Spot...
But Just For Today
Don't worry ladies, the G Spot will resume (I think) next week. The G in G Spot has a life. I know, I know it doesn't seem fair, does it? Yep, she's shirking her blogging duties for her real life and while I'm as bummed as you are I am not a task master so I gave her the day off. She will be back next week to delight us and answer our questions so you better post some questions or I'm going to ask her about my awful Urinary Tract Infection...
Yep, I am SO going there. I am so going to put the Too in Too Much Information. I'm not going there right away but will get there eventually and you'll get a whole lot of other useless knowledge about me as well.
It begins with me not being able to sleep tonight which is as ironic as it is troublesome because all I've done for the last 6 days is sleep. 2 weekends ago I started feeling the symptoms of a bladder infection or Urinary Tract Infection; it wasn't terribly bothersome but bothersome enough and like any infection it zapped me of energy. By Monday I was feeling fine and went about my week. That takes us to this last weekend where I was a total and complete sloth. Layin' around feelin' all slothlike, taking more naps than usual and having zero energy to do anything but go upstairs and nap some more.
Monday morning was fine, still tired but fine but by Monday afternoon I was peeing fire. (And here we go with the TMI...) Seriously, tears-in-my-eyes-bite-down-on-something-solid-where-is-the-fire-extinguisher pain in my girly parts. Called my Doc, she called in a heavy dose of antibiotics, angel from Heaven next door neighbor Melissa went and picked it up along with some of that urethra numbing, pee staining stuff and I was on my way to wellness. So I thought.
Tuesday: painfully tired. Wednesday: painfully tired, vomiting, back pain, painfully tired. Thursday: still a little nauseated, still painfully tired but overall feeling like the antibiotics are kicking in and that I'm not going to die from undetected, stage 4, metastatic bladder cancer. I know, what a relief, eh?
So this brings me to why I can't sleep. For being so tired you'd think I could sleep right? Well to add insult to injury to my miserable life my home is in shambles. I haven't done much cooking or cleaning or laundry in the last week and the house is looking like it. It looks like a 2 and a 4 year old live here and they don't have a mother and their Dad doesn't give a rip about laundry or clean dishes. And when my home is in shambles it stresses me out and I don't deal with stress like most people. Most people get a headache or they drink 2 beers or they go target practicing or ok, its true, I really have no idea what most people do when they are stressed out but I'm pretty sure they don't completely melt down with a panic attack. That's what I did.
Because I am awake and because I am self-aware I know what triggered it. We were putting the kids down after a perfectly normal evening and Emily couldn't find her binkies and she was FREAKING OUT because she couldn't find her binkies. And of course I couldn't find her binkies and all I could see were piles of laundry, strewn about shoes, strewn about toys and piles of mail that needed to be sorted. Finally after frantically, and I mean frantically searching for binkies I found 2 (she needs one to suck and one to rub her nose with) and put her to bed. Hot Jeff was putting Samuel down and somehow, literally by the grace of God I was able to push through the tightening in my chest to sing Emily a song and get her down before my heart exploded. Someone give me a Mother-of-the-Year Award stat.
As soon as I walked out of her room this insane pressure filled my head and I felt dizzy and short of breath. I seriously felt like there were weights on my chest and that the house was being spun like a top. I went downstairs and outside and stared up at the starry sky and tried to picture the fresh night air filling my lungs back up. Later I explained to Jeff that I felt like my heart was a balloon that when you squeeze it it gets really thin and pale and you know you could pop it with the slightest touch.
Recognizing that I was indeed having a panic attack and not a heart attack I went to Jeff, who was reading, and told him what I was feeling instead of calling an ambulance. I did all the things you're supposed to like breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and self-talk that it was just anxiety and it would pass. I said out loud to Jeff, "There really isn't a semi on my chest. There really isn't a semi on my chest. There really isn't a semi on my chest" until I finally believed it.
Then we watched Grey's Anatomy and I felt much better.
With all of that said, my ferocious bladder infection caused me to feel crummy all week leading to me falling off the housewife duties leading me to not be able to find binkies leading me to have a debilitating panic attack leading to way too much adrenaline being released in my body leading to me not being able to sleep at 11:52pm on a Thursday night leading me to write a blog post in place of The G Spot. And its probably because of my own G spot that led me to having too much sex-a-roni with Hot Jeff which probably is how I got the darn UTI in the first place.
I think the word we're looking for here is circuitous.
How do you deal with stress? Have you ever had a panic attack? Do you target practice?
But Just For Today
Don't worry ladies, the G Spot will resume (I think) next week. The G in G Spot has a life. I know, I know it doesn't seem fair, does it? Yep, she's shirking her blogging duties for her real life and while I'm as bummed as you are I am not a task master so I gave her the day off. She will be back next week to delight us and answer our questions so you better post some questions or I'm going to ask her about my awful Urinary Tract Infection...
Yep, I am SO going there. I am so going to put the Too in Too Much Information. I'm not going there right away but will get there eventually and you'll get a whole lot of other useless knowledge about me as well.
It begins with me not being able to sleep tonight which is as ironic as it is troublesome because all I've done for the last 6 days is sleep. 2 weekends ago I started feeling the symptoms of a bladder infection or Urinary Tract Infection; it wasn't terribly bothersome but bothersome enough and like any infection it zapped me of energy. By Monday I was feeling fine and went about my week. That takes us to this last weekend where I was a total and complete sloth. Layin' around feelin' all slothlike, taking more naps than usual and having zero energy to do anything but go upstairs and nap some more.
Monday morning was fine, still tired but fine but by Monday afternoon I was peeing fire. (And here we go with the TMI...) Seriously, tears-in-my-eyes-bite-down-on-something-solid-where-is-the-fire-extinguisher pain in my girly parts. Called my Doc, she called in a heavy dose of antibiotics, angel from Heaven next door neighbor Melissa went and picked it up along with some of that urethra numbing, pee staining stuff and I was on my way to wellness. So I thought.
Tuesday: painfully tired. Wednesday: painfully tired, vomiting, back pain, painfully tired. Thursday: still a little nauseated, still painfully tired but overall feeling like the antibiotics are kicking in and that I'm not going to die from undetected, stage 4, metastatic bladder cancer. I know, what a relief, eh?
So this brings me to why I can't sleep. For being so tired you'd think I could sleep right? Well to add insult to injury to my miserable life my home is in shambles. I haven't done much cooking or cleaning or laundry in the last week and the house is looking like it. It looks like a 2 and a 4 year old live here and they don't have a mother and their Dad doesn't give a rip about laundry or clean dishes. And when my home is in shambles it stresses me out and I don't deal with stress like most people. Most people get a headache or they drink 2 beers or they go target practicing or ok, its true, I really have no idea what most people do when they are stressed out but I'm pretty sure they don't completely melt down with a panic attack. That's what I did.
Because I am awake and because I am self-aware I know what triggered it. We were putting the kids down after a perfectly normal evening and Emily couldn't find her binkies and she was FREAKING OUT because she couldn't find her binkies. And of course I couldn't find her binkies and all I could see were piles of laundry, strewn about shoes, strewn about toys and piles of mail that needed to be sorted. Finally after frantically, and I mean frantically searching for binkies I found 2 (she needs one to suck and one to rub her nose with) and put her to bed. Hot Jeff was putting Samuel down and somehow, literally by the grace of God I was able to push through the tightening in my chest to sing Emily a song and get her down before my heart exploded. Someone give me a Mother-of-the-Year Award stat.
As soon as I walked out of her room this insane pressure filled my head and I felt dizzy and short of breath. I seriously felt like there were weights on my chest and that the house was being spun like a top. I went downstairs and outside and stared up at the starry sky and tried to picture the fresh night air filling my lungs back up. Later I explained to Jeff that I felt like my heart was a balloon that when you squeeze it it gets really thin and pale and you know you could pop it with the slightest touch.
Recognizing that I was indeed having a panic attack and not a heart attack I went to Jeff, who was reading, and told him what I was feeling instead of calling an ambulance. I did all the things you're supposed to like breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth and self-talk that it was just anxiety and it would pass. I said out loud to Jeff, "There really isn't a semi on my chest. There really isn't a semi on my chest. There really isn't a semi on my chest" until I finally believed it.
Then we watched Grey's Anatomy and I felt much better.
With all of that said, my ferocious bladder infection caused me to feel crummy all week leading to me falling off the housewife duties leading me to not be able to find binkies leading me to have a debilitating panic attack leading to way too much adrenaline being released in my body leading to me not being able to sleep at 11:52pm on a Thursday night leading me to write a blog post in place of The G Spot. And its probably because of my own G spot that led me to having too much sex-a-roni with Hot Jeff which probably is how I got the darn UTI in the first place.
I think the word we're looking for here is circuitous.
How do you deal with stress? Have you ever had a panic attack? Do you target practice?
Thursday, August 5, 2010
It has been so long since I wrote on my blog that it made me sign in. Like it kind of thought the author of this blog must have died in a tragic gasoline fight accident and was certain an imposter was trying to get on and write positive comments about Republicans or something. I love its devotion to me and that it made me sign in just to be sure no one got on and wrote nice things about Republicans on here.
I know I owe you some kind of sincere apology for not writing in 2 weeks but the truth is I just don't have it in me. I haven't missed blogging one bit. I think its because I'm too darn busy to miss it. BUT I will say this, your emails, comments and Facebook notes have meant the absolute world to me. Really. It touches my heart to know that my ramblings make a difference in your life; that somehow the words I write make you smile, laugh or stop and think. I love that. And that's actually why, despite wanting to take a bubble bath, I'm writing a blog post.
So...here's what's going on.
I love being back at work. It makes me happy. And when I say happy I want you to hear it like I say it, like with the aaaaaaaaa all drawn out and the y too. Like haaaaaaaaaaappeeeeeeeeeee. I love using my knowledge, gifts, education and love for people in an office where I'm valued, appreciated and acknowledged. I work with AMAZING people and it turns I out I have freak steel trap for a memory which has made the 3 years I was out of the biz feel like 3 days. I got my 24 CE credits in less than a month and am now back to being licensed. Which all brings me to my conversation with Samuel last night.
Samuel: Mom, what do you do at work?
Me: I help people with their insurance.
Samuel: Oh. I thought you made toilet paper.
And speaking of toilet paper...
Jeff and I bought ourselves some bikes. And one of those fancy bike trailers to tow little Roo in and we are like the Brady's with our little trio of bikes and trailer riding all over Salem. Something I never really paid much attention to, until now, is the amount of hills in our neighborhood. And I'm talking like the Sound-of-Music-the-hills-are-alive-and-kicking-my-ass hills.
Since we got the bikes I've been the one riding trailer-less. And I think I am just made for biking because it is so much fun. I'm asking myself questions like "This is so awesome, why didn't we buy bikes years ago" and thinking of buying biking attire and crap like that. Then, on Tuesday I got home from work at 3:30 and was thinking I could use some exercise so I strapped the trailer on and PUT BOTH KIDS IN IT because I didn't want to have to "wait around for Samuel". I'm thinking Samuel is too slow and I'm such a fabulous biker and am going to go out and ride like the wind and take names later and can't be bothered by the slow 4 year old on training wheels.
So yes, my neighborhood has hills. Lots of them. Lots of steep hills and towing that trailer that weighs 7000 pounds and two children who weigh at least 150 pounds EACH nearly killed me. No lie, I literally thought I was going to die.
And here's the saddest part: the last 90 yards or so to my driveway is a slight hill and I COULD NOT GET UP IT. I had to walk the bike and trailer the last 90 yards to my house. Past my gawking neighbors. Past the laughing and pointing children at the park across the street. In front of my children who will forever have the indelible image of their mother WALKING HER BIKE up the hill to her home.
When I told Hot Jeff the story later that night he laughed.
I hate him.
And since I wrote a Samuel funny I'll leave with a Roo one. These kids crack me up. Thank God they are funny; I would hate to have un-funny kids.
Me: Roo, finish your milk before you go outside.
Emily: Why?
Me: Because it will make you strong.
Emily: I'm already strong.
I know I owe you some kind of sincere apology for not writing in 2 weeks but the truth is I just don't have it in me. I haven't missed blogging one bit. I think its because I'm too darn busy to miss it. BUT I will say this, your emails, comments and Facebook notes have meant the absolute world to me. Really. It touches my heart to know that my ramblings make a difference in your life; that somehow the words I write make you smile, laugh or stop and think. I love that. And that's actually why, despite wanting to take a bubble bath, I'm writing a blog post.
So...here's what's going on.
I love being back at work. It makes me happy. And when I say happy I want you to hear it like I say it, like with the aaaaaaaaa all drawn out and the y too. Like haaaaaaaaaaappeeeeeeeeeee. I love using my knowledge, gifts, education and love for people in an office where I'm valued, appreciated and acknowledged. I work with AMAZING people and it turns I out I have freak steel trap for a memory which has made the 3 years I was out of the biz feel like 3 days. I got my 24 CE credits in less than a month and am now back to being licensed. Which all brings me to my conversation with Samuel last night.
Samuel: Mom, what do you do at work?
Me: I help people with their insurance.
Samuel: Oh. I thought you made toilet paper.
And speaking of toilet paper...
Jeff and I bought ourselves some bikes. And one of those fancy bike trailers to tow little Roo in and we are like the Brady's with our little trio of bikes and trailer riding all over Salem. Something I never really paid much attention to, until now, is the amount of hills in our neighborhood. And I'm talking like the Sound-of-Music-the-hills-are-alive-and-kicking-my-ass hills.
Since we got the bikes I've been the one riding trailer-less. And I think I am just made for biking because it is so much fun. I'm asking myself questions like "This is so awesome, why didn't we buy bikes years ago" and thinking of buying biking attire and crap like that. Then, on Tuesday I got home from work at 3:30 and was thinking I could use some exercise so I strapped the trailer on and PUT BOTH KIDS IN IT because I didn't want to have to "wait around for Samuel". I'm thinking Samuel is too slow and I'm such a fabulous biker and am going to go out and ride like the wind and take names later and can't be bothered by the slow 4 year old on training wheels.
So yes, my neighborhood has hills. Lots of them. Lots of steep hills and towing that trailer that weighs 7000 pounds and two children who weigh at least 150 pounds EACH nearly killed me. No lie, I literally thought I was going to die.
And here's the saddest part: the last 90 yards or so to my driveway is a slight hill and I COULD NOT GET UP IT. I had to walk the bike and trailer the last 90 yards to my house. Past my gawking neighbors. Past the laughing and pointing children at the park across the street. In front of my children who will forever have the indelible image of their mother WALKING HER BIKE up the hill to her home.
When I told Hot Jeff the story later that night he laughed.
I hate him.
And since I wrote a Samuel funny I'll leave with a Roo one. These kids crack me up. Thank God they are funny; I would hate to have un-funny kids.
Me: Roo, finish your milk before you go outside.
Emily: Why?
Me: Because it will make you strong.
Emily: I'm already strong.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Its Hammer Time
Today at work it was just Bestie Maryanne and I for an hour or so and it was
terribly quiet so I decided it was the perfect time to show Maryanne some of my old high school moves.
You know, just your typical day at the office.
I kicked off my heels and let it go like it was 1994.
Maryanne was impressed. I don't think she knows many 33 year olds who can still perform the fight song.
My dress wouldn't allow me to do the splits or I swear I would have done them. The fact that I haven't done the splits in 16 years would not have stopped me.
For being just a tad chubby I am incredibly flexible.
How much do you love this picture? As you can see, I've been rocking the red lipstick for quite some time now.
Those red gloves are friggin' awesome. Seriously. All hail the Mighty Panthers.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
I Know, I Know...
I know my blogging sabbatical went a little longer than planned. Sorry. By the time Sunday night rolled around and I was thinking of doing Monday's PYKM it was time to go outside andlight money on fire shoot fireworks off. And then (the excuses just keep coming) yesterday my sister in law and cousin came over and a 2 hour lunch turned into a 5 hour, delightful lunch and so no blogging for me.
And here's the big news: I got a job. I know! It happened so fast I didn't even have time to consult you about it. It happened so randomly also--just nuts.
So the very best job I've ever had was working for Al at his State Farm agency. That's how Shannon and I got to be the bestest besties ever (she worked there too) and now my other bestie, Maryanne, works there. 3 years ago there were some personnel changes and I decided it would be a good time for me to stay at home with the babies (I was pregnant with Emily) at the time. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, because I loved working there) but knew it was what was best for my mental health and for my family.
3 years later the "personnel changes" are no longer an issue and Al called out of the blue, clear sky and asked about me coming back part time. We emailed, had coffee and 3 days after his initial call I had a job!
God has done such huge things for this all to come about, the biggest one being CHILDCARE! My mui fabulouso neighbor is taking the kids 2 days and Jeff is taking them the 1/2 day. Voila.
I'm simply amazed at how God has provided financially for my family over the last 3 years. It has been nothing short of a miracle (and a lot of discipline on our part) how we have made it on one income and now He has done even more amazing work in providing this job at the perfect time, not to mention Melissa's willing heart to provide childcare for Samily.
Its also fun to see how God was working in my heart regarding scheduling and time management. A few days before Al called I felt like I was really making some strides in managing my time and house. Not coincidentally, now I will need that structure and skill to manage family, house, ministry and now work!
Its all good. Very, very good.
I'm going to try and continue blogging regularly and will keep doing PYKM. All you working mothers will need to give me your tips and advice for making it all work smoothly! I'm going to need it.
I know my blogging sabbatical went a little longer than planned. Sorry. By the time Sunday night rolled around and I was thinking of doing Monday's PYKM it was time to go outside and
And here's the big news: I got a job. I know! It happened so fast I didn't even have time to consult you about it. It happened so randomly also--just nuts.
So the very best job I've ever had was working for Al at his State Farm agency. That's how Shannon and I got to be the bestest besties ever (she worked there too) and now my other bestie, Maryanne, works there. 3 years ago there were some personnel changes and I decided it would be a good time for me to stay at home with the babies (I was pregnant with Emily) at the time. It was one of the hardest decisions I've ever made, because I loved working there) but knew it was what was best for my mental health and for my family.
3 years later the "personnel changes" are no longer an issue and Al called out of the blue, clear sky and asked about me coming back part time. We emailed, had coffee and 3 days after his initial call I had a job!
God has done such huge things for this all to come about, the biggest one being CHILDCARE! My mui fabulouso neighbor is taking the kids 2 days and Jeff is taking them the 1/2 day. Voila.
I'm simply amazed at how God has provided financially for my family over the last 3 years. It has been nothing short of a miracle (and a lot of discipline on our part) how we have made it on one income and now He has done even more amazing work in providing this job at the perfect time, not to mention Melissa's willing heart to provide childcare for Samily.
Its also fun to see how God was working in my heart regarding scheduling and time management. A few days before Al called I felt like I was really making some strides in managing my time and house. Not coincidentally, now I will need that structure and skill to manage family, house, ministry and now work!
Its all good. Very, very good.
I'm going to try and continue blogging regularly and will keep doing PYKM. All you working mothers will need to give me your tips and advice for making it all work smoothly! I'm going to need it.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
And the Best Bestie Is...
Last week, as part being-funny on Facebook and part begging-serious I posted as my status update that the title of Best Bestie was up for grabs to the first person who brought me a Diet Coke.
About one hour later my doorbell rang and who was at my door but my friend Janet AND she was holding 2 Diet Cokes! Now not only was Janet holding 2 Diet Cokes she was in her fire fighter uniform and DRIVING A FIRE TRUCK!
Janet gave the kids stickers and trading cards and let them check out the truck. The only thing that could have made the visit any better was if Janet could have stayed and had a DC with me. Alas, she had to go check hydrants in my neighborhood so she dropped and ran (after posing for pictures).
Last week, as part being-funny on Facebook and part begging-serious I posted as my status update that the title of Best Bestie was up for grabs to the first person who brought me a Diet Coke.
About one hour later my doorbell rang and who was at my door but my friend Janet AND she was holding 2 Diet Cokes! Now not only was Janet holding 2 Diet Cokes she was in her fire fighter uniform and DRIVING A FIRE TRUCK!
Janet gave the kids stickers and trading cards and let them check out the truck. The only thing that could have made the visit any better was if Janet could have stayed and had a DC with me. Alas, she had to go check hydrants in my neighborhood so she dropped and ran (after posing for pictures).Seriously, how stinking great is Janet? You are all pretty jealous, aren't you?
So without further adieu... I hereby name Janet as Best Bestie. She will furthermore be known as Best Bestie and enjoy all rights and privileges due to that title.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Damsel in Distress
With another rainy Oregon day on our hands we declared yesterday a pajama day.
We brought the rocket ship (the box Ella was shipped in) downstairs from the playroom and Samuel and Emily flew to the moon, played hide and seek and saved the princess over and over from the dangerous, fire breathing dragon who apparently resides in our hall closet.
While unloading the dishwasher I heard them marching around the family room, foam swords in hand. I heard Samuel direct his sister, "We must save the Princess. She's going to be eaten. Hurry, we must find her". They marched in to the kitchen where I was bent over my most favorite of all household appliances. Samuel shouted excitedly, "There's the Princess. She's unloading the dishwasher. Saaaaaave her!"
Yes, please save me from the dreaded duty of unloading the dishwasher and vacuuming and cleaning toilets and folding laundry... and for crying out loud someone get me a tiara!
With another rainy Oregon day on our hands we declared yesterday a pajama day.
We brought the rocket ship (the box Ella was shipped in) downstairs from the playroom and Samuel and Emily flew to the moon, played hide and seek and saved the princess over and over from the dangerous, fire breathing dragon who apparently resides in our hall closet.
While unloading the dishwasher I heard them marching around the family room, foam swords in hand. I heard Samuel direct his sister, "We must save the Princess. She's going to be eaten. Hurry, we must find her". They marched in to the kitchen where I was bent over my most favorite of all household appliances. Samuel shouted excitedly, "There's the Princess. She's unloading the dishwasher. Saaaaaave her!"
Yes, please save me from the dreaded duty of unloading the dishwasher and vacuuming and cleaning toilets and folding laundry... and for crying out loud someone get me a tiara!
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Confessions of a Closet Gamer
I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine. I'm kind of a Tetris nerd.
I was first introduced to Tetris when Bug lived with us in high school. She had a little hand held Tetris game and I would play it by the hours. I had been a big fan of video games since my early days of playing Pac-Man on my cousin Kevin's Atari. (Blog challenge: to all my blogger readers your challenge is to totally get "Atari" in to your next blog post. Who says "Atari" anymore?) Ok, so I digress. I don't know what was up with my Mom; I think she was a deliberate parent before deliberate parenting was cool and she didn't want to fry my brain but for whatever reason we didn't have video games at my house and so that made them all the cooler to me.
Fast forward to last October when I was farting around with a google toolbar on my desktop and saw the game 'Tetramino'...basically a really bad, knock off Tetris game. I was hooked.
At that time the PC was up in our bedroom (until Bestie Kara told me it totally ruined my love shack aura and made me move it) and when Jeff saw what I was doing one night before bed he almost stroked out. He made fun of me pretty hard core for 1) being a gamer and 2) being a gamer on a really, bad knock off game.
I guess after watching me play Tetramino for 2 months he felt bad for me because for Christmas Hot Jeff got me a little Nintendo hand held and a Tetris game. Here's the funny part: he bought it at some gamer store and its a vintage Nintendo and so it doesn't have a back light so in order to play it I have to wear a head lamp. Yes, I said a head lamp. And if you ask really nicely I will have Hot Jeff take a picture of me playing and I will post it for you. Its ridiculously sexy.
I only play at night, right before I go to sleep. I call it my wind down time. It has 15 levels and so far I can make it to level 12. I'm really rocking it. My favorite part of playing Tetris before I go to sleep, well besides totally dominating it, is getting lost in my head and thinking. Sometimes I think about blog posts, sometimes I pray, sometimes I process through a book I'm reading and tonight (before I decided to get up and write this) I was thinking about the Grey's Anatomy season finale.
Sometimes, and you will love this, I think about going to a Tetris tournament and blowing everyone out of the water with my mad Tetris playing skills. I like to imagine the day before I play getting a hand massage and not changing any diapers so I can just rest up my fingers. I would probably take a nice long nap too. And eat a big carb dinner.
I also play this same little pretend game when I'm cooking. I like to pretend I have my own cooking show. I walk around the kitchen talking to a fake camera crew and telling them my cute little kitchen tips and making funny food puns. I'm not really that great of a cook I just think I'd be spectacular on TV.
I'm going to let you in on a little secret of mine. I'm kind of a Tetris nerd.
I was first introduced to Tetris when Bug lived with us in high school. She had a little hand held Tetris game and I would play it by the hours. I had been a big fan of video games since my early days of playing Pac-Man on my cousin Kevin's Atari. (Blog challenge: to all my blogger readers your challenge is to totally get "Atari" in to your next blog post. Who says "Atari" anymore?) Ok, so I digress. I don't know what was up with my Mom; I think she was a deliberate parent before deliberate parenting was cool and she didn't want to fry my brain but for whatever reason we didn't have video games at my house and so that made them all the cooler to me.
Fast forward to last October when I was farting around with a google toolbar on my desktop and saw the game 'Tetramino'...basically a really bad, knock off Tetris game. I was hooked.
At that time the PC was up in our bedroom (until Bestie Kara told me it totally ruined my love shack aura and made me move it) and when Jeff saw what I was doing one night before bed he almost stroked out. He made fun of me pretty hard core for 1) being a gamer and 2) being a gamer on a really, bad knock off game.
I guess after watching me play Tetramino for 2 months he felt bad for me because for Christmas Hot Jeff got me a little Nintendo hand held and a Tetris game. Here's the funny part: he bought it at some gamer store and its a vintage Nintendo and so it doesn't have a back light so in order to play it I have to wear a head lamp. Yes, I said a head lamp. And if you ask really nicely I will have Hot Jeff take a picture of me playing and I will post it for you. Its ridiculously sexy.
I only play at night, right before I go to sleep. I call it my wind down time. It has 15 levels and so far I can make it to level 12. I'm really rocking it. My favorite part of playing Tetris before I go to sleep, well besides totally dominating it, is getting lost in my head and thinking. Sometimes I think about blog posts, sometimes I pray, sometimes I process through a book I'm reading and tonight (before I decided to get up and write this) I was thinking about the Grey's Anatomy season finale.
Sometimes, and you will love this, I think about going to a Tetris tournament and blowing everyone out of the water with my mad Tetris playing skills. I like to imagine the day before I play getting a hand massage and not changing any diapers so I can just rest up my fingers. I would probably take a nice long nap too. And eat a big carb dinner.
I also play this same little pretend game when I'm cooking. I like to pretend I have my own cooking show. I walk around the kitchen talking to a fake camera crew and telling them my cute little kitchen tips and making funny food puns. I'm not really that great of a cook I just think I'd be spectacular on TV.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Soap Opera Starlet AND Super-Hero
Why do kids act so crazy and naughty after being with a sitter? I don't get it. It doesn't matter if the "sitter" is an actual paid teenager, grandparents or my saint of a neighbor...when my kids get home they are like Satan in toddler clothes.
Yesterday was my favorite day of all favorite days: hair day. I got to go see my favorite people of all favorite people: Salon Sara and have her do whatever she pleases with me. I am the human version of Salon Sara's mood ring. If she's had a good game at soccer I get lighter brown, if she's feeling sassy I get red and if she's feeling pre-vacation I get a rich, deep black with violet strands mixed in like I got today. Its a stunning color--one of my favorites she's done. She called it "Level 3" which I think is salon talk for "darker than most people can go" but I'm calling it "Slutty Vixen" because that's what I look like: a really hot slutty vixen. I could totally be the bad girl in a soap opera.
So I come home from getting my hairgasm and I pick up Samuel and Emily from my saint of a neighbor's house and they are like, um what's the word in English? Oh yes, INSANE. Whining, crying, asking for food, screaming, hitting each other, demanding a movie, all at once and within 666 seconds of walking in to our front door. I stood in complete shock waiting for one or both of their heads to start spinning around and spewing pea soup or one of them to just collapse from a loss of air from all the screaming.
And somehow in the midst of the madness I pulled together my super-duper Mom powers and made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while putting a Veggie Tales movie on in 63 seconds flat. I didn't even have time to change in to my cape; that's how fast I was.
And then there was silence. And chewing. And the occasional hiccup from all the crying. But mostly silence as they watched the Tomato and Cucumber who quite possibly saved my children's lives today.
So now I'm just reveling in the quiet and wondering what Slutty Vixen would have done. I'm not sure but I bet tequila would have been involved.
Slutty Vixen is SO my new Superhero name.
Why do kids act so crazy and naughty after being with a sitter? I don't get it. It doesn't matter if the "sitter" is an actual paid teenager, grandparents or my saint of a neighbor...when my kids get home they are like Satan in toddler clothes.
Yesterday was my favorite day of all favorite days: hair day. I got to go see my favorite people of all favorite people: Salon Sara and have her do whatever she pleases with me. I am the human version of Salon Sara's mood ring. If she's had a good game at soccer I get lighter brown, if she's feeling sassy I get red and if she's feeling pre-vacation I get a rich, deep black with violet strands mixed in like I got today. Its a stunning color--one of my favorites she's done. She called it "Level 3" which I think is salon talk for "darker than most people can go" but I'm calling it "Slutty Vixen" because that's what I look like: a really hot slutty vixen. I could totally be the bad girl in a soap opera.
So I come home from getting my hairgasm and I pick up Samuel and Emily from my saint of a neighbor's house and they are like, um what's the word in English? Oh yes, INSANE. Whining, crying, asking for food, screaming, hitting each other, demanding a movie, all at once and within 666 seconds of walking in to our front door. I stood in complete shock waiting for one or both of their heads to start spinning around and spewing pea soup or one of them to just collapse from a loss of air from all the screaming.
And somehow in the midst of the madness I pulled together my super-duper Mom powers and made two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches while putting a Veggie Tales movie on in 63 seconds flat. I didn't even have time to change in to my cape; that's how fast I was.
And then there was silence. And chewing. And the occasional hiccup from all the crying. But mostly silence as they watched the Tomato and Cucumber who quite possibly saved my children's lives today.
So now I'm just reveling in the quiet and wondering what Slutty Vixen would have done. I'm not sure but I bet tequila would have been involved.
Slutty Vixen is SO my new Superhero name.
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
4 Year Old Negotiations
Today I got my period (sorry guy readers) and am feeling all bloaty, back achy, tired and crabby. At 11:30am I had hit the wall and really wanted to take a nap when Emily did. Knowing there was only one person standing in the way of a wonderful, cozy nap the following conversation took place.
Me: Samuel, Mommy doesn't feel very well. Will you take a nap with Emily and me today?
S: No.
Me: Please.
S: Will you pay me?
Me: Um, yes. I will give you a quarter.
S: No, I want a dollar bill.
Me: (A whole half second of hesitation) Yeah, ok.
S: One dollar bill and one quarter.
Me: You got it.
Well played Samuel, well played.
Today I got my period (sorry guy readers) and am feeling all bloaty, back achy, tired and crabby. At 11:30am I had hit the wall and really wanted to take a nap when Emily did. Knowing there was only one person standing in the way of a wonderful, cozy nap the following conversation took place.
Me: Samuel, Mommy doesn't feel very well. Will you take a nap with Emily and me today?
S: No.
Me: Please.
S: Will you pay me?
Me: Um, yes. I will give you a quarter.
S: No, I want a dollar bill.
Me: (A whole half second of hesitation) Yeah, ok.
S: One dollar bill and one quarter.
Me: You got it.
Well played Samuel, well played.
Friday, April 9, 2010
The Mommy Dance
The kids and I were at OMSI the other day and I found myself doing an all too familiar dance. Most likely you've done this dance too.
187,000 children were playing in the sand area and I was sitting on a nearby bench watching Samuel and Emily building a little mound of sand together. They were happy clams until little Daisy came along... trying to get to her mom who was sitting next to me and talking to her friend, Daisy stepped on the sand mound, barely missing Samuel and Emily's fingers.
"Its ok", I said to Samuel and Emily's disappointed faces, "It was an accident and you can make another one". Daisy's mom looked at me and smiled before turning her attention back to her friend. Thus began the dance.
Daisy tromped back over the kids' sand mound, abruptly turned around, bend down and wiped the sand mound down to a flat pancake. Samuel and Emily looked at me with surprise on their faces and waited to see what I would say to Daisy. I looked at her mom and waited to see what she would say to Daisy.
Nothing. She said nothing. Then looked at me audaciously and smiled.
I cleared my throat, "Honey, please be gentle; the kids are trying to build something." My words were kind but also loud enough for her mother to hear.
Daisy, not new to this dance, picked up a sand toy and dropped it in the middle of where Samuel and Emily had resumed play, narrowly missing Emily's head.
I waited. 1 Mississippi. 2 Mississippi. 3 Mississippi. Nothing from Darling Daisy's mother.
Throat clear. "Hey sweetie, please play nice; your friends are playing right here". At last, Daisy's mother looks at her and says, "Did you hear the lady?" Daisy doesn't reply but walks over to the other side of the sand pit to torture some other happy kids. Daisy's mother turns back to her conversation.
Now my kids aren't perfect--I don't ever claim they are but come on Daisy's mom...GET A CLUE!! Maybe we wouldn't be in this awkward position of me parenting your child IF YOU WOULD DO IT.
Tell me about your experiences with "the dance"; I love to hear other stories of painful awkwardness and how you handled it!
The kids and I were at OMSI the other day and I found myself doing an all too familiar dance. Most likely you've done this dance too.
187,000 children were playing in the sand area and I was sitting on a nearby bench watching Samuel and Emily building a little mound of sand together. They were happy clams until little Daisy came along... trying to get to her mom who was sitting next to me and talking to her friend, Daisy stepped on the sand mound, barely missing Samuel and Emily's fingers.
"Its ok", I said to Samuel and Emily's disappointed faces, "It was an accident and you can make another one". Daisy's mom looked at me and smiled before turning her attention back to her friend. Thus began the dance.
Daisy tromped back over the kids' sand mound, abruptly turned around, bend down and wiped the sand mound down to a flat pancake. Samuel and Emily looked at me with surprise on their faces and waited to see what I would say to Daisy. I looked at her mom and waited to see what she would say to Daisy.
Nothing. She said nothing. Then looked at me audaciously and smiled.
I cleared my throat, "Honey, please be gentle; the kids are trying to build something." My words were kind but also loud enough for her mother to hear.
Daisy, not new to this dance, picked up a sand toy and dropped it in the middle of where Samuel and Emily had resumed play, narrowly missing Emily's head.
I waited. 1 Mississippi. 2 Mississippi. 3 Mississippi. Nothing from Darling Daisy's mother.
Throat clear. "Hey sweetie, please play nice; your friends are playing right here". At last, Daisy's mother looks at her and says, "Did you hear the lady?" Daisy doesn't reply but walks over to the other side of the sand pit to torture some other happy kids. Daisy's mother turns back to her conversation.
Now my kids aren't perfect--I don't ever claim they are but come on Daisy's mom...GET A CLUE!! Maybe we wouldn't be in this awkward position of me parenting your child IF YOU WOULD DO IT.
Tell me about your experiences with "the dance"; I love to hear other stories of painful awkwardness and how you handled it!
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
I have not forgotten about Part Two of You Had Me at Shelves From Scrapwood. This week is getting away from me with all the festive Spring Break playdates and museum trips we've been makin'. And because I am such a dork I lay in bed trying to fall asleep writing it in my head when really I should just get my butt out of bed and write it.
But oh it is so snuggly warm under those covers.
So its coming. I promise. I know you are waiting with bated breath but we have a zoo trip with the Campbells tomorrow and Hot Jeff gets off work at 11 on Friday so I'm not promising anything before Friday night.
Lastly, thank you, thank you, thank you for your wonderful and encouraging emails regarding PYKM. I feel so blessed, honored and humbled that you would take a minute and write and encourage me. I think I may take a week or two off to get some fresh ideas and vision and then I'll start it back up again. Please pray for me during this time that God will refresh me and give me His heart for our kids. Praying for my kids is still definitely a passion of mine and as Sensei Jen Roth wrote to me it is a wonderful way to keep me in Scripture and searching God's Word for His direction and will for our kids. So thanks again for being so awesome. You are the best blog stalkers EVER!
But oh it is so snuggly warm under those covers.
So its coming. I promise. I know you are waiting with bated breath but we have a zoo trip with the Campbells tomorrow and Hot Jeff gets off work at 11 on Friday so I'm not promising anything before Friday night.
Lastly, thank you, thank you, thank you for your wonderful and encouraging emails regarding PYKM. I feel so blessed, honored and humbled that you would take a minute and write and encourage me. I think I may take a week or two off to get some fresh ideas and vision and then I'll start it back up again. Please pray for me during this time that God will refresh me and give me His heart for our kids. Praying for my kids is still definitely a passion of mine and as Sensei Jen Roth wrote to me it is a wonderful way to keep me in Scripture and searching God's Word for His direction and will for our kids. So thanks again for being so awesome. You are the best blog stalkers EVER!
Thursday, March 4, 2010
God Reads This Blog
God reads this blog. And I have proof. I wrote about serving my kids and about being all excited to serve them and guess what? They got sick. And while most of the time I don't blame God for illness and other generally bad things, I'm pretty sure this was His doin'. Just a little test to see if I would actually follow through with my good intentions of serving my kids.
Serving your kids is pretty darn easy when they are well enough to follow the house rules, go outside and enjoy a nice day, don't pull at pant leg all day and whine. Oh the whining...
When your kids are sick? Well that's just a whole 'nother ball game of service.
Now don't misunderstand me here; I am not talking about compassion. I've got all sorts of compassion for the poor babes...come on, I'm not a monster. How can you not feel bad for the little buggers when they are all feverish, and shivering and their little coughs sounds like they've swallowed a rottweiler so much so though that I don't know whether to give them cough syrup or perform an exorcism? Poor little things.
No, no, I'm talking service. Like true-I-love-you-more-than-I-love-myself service. That's a hard kind of service. Especially when that service calls for just sitting on the couch and holding them both while watching a marathon of animated favorites. Now like most stay at home Moms our schedules are pretty full so when a "stay home day" (as Samuel calls them) rolls around I like to knock me out some chores so you can imagine with 2 kids on the couch not making a mess behind the one I just cleaned up is rather appealing to me.
Yet when you've got a 2 and 4 year old who are EXACTLY like their mother and want to be loved on when they are sick there is NO house cleaning, or laundry, or bill paying, or blog writing, or thank you card catching up on, or anything else going on. Nope, its pajama snuggle time all day long with only the every 4 hour break to administer more fever reducer. And should I dare to get up and update my Facebook status or get a drink of water or PEE FOR GRACIOUS SAKES its all sorts of drama and whining. So I pretty much sit and hold and snuggle and don't drink nearly as much water as I usually do.
And I while I sit I wonder why its so hard to be still. I think about how in 10 years when they are sick and home from school they will just sit and text and want me to leave them alone. I wonder why I can't just stop looking at the dishes piling up in the sink and enjoy these lovable moments where both of my babies are by my side and holding my hands and not needing anything in the whole world but their Mama.
Last night I fought the urge to get online and watch Hulu while Emily slept next to me in my bed. It was 7:00 and she was sleeping fitfully; it was too early for me to sleep but whenever I left her she whimpered so I laid next to her and stroked her hair and fought the urge to go get Ruby and watch a Grey's Anatomy rerun. I thought about all the times my Mama just held me and loved me when I was sick and how I never, ever felt like she wanted to be anywhere else but with me. I thought about service and if how a feverish Jesus was lying in my bed I would never dream of watching TV or reading a book instead of singing a soothing lullaby. I thought about how I wanted to serve my kids better and how I wrote about it (and that's when it dawned on me that God must read my blog) and that this was my first chance to practice what I preached.
So I snuggled with that Baby Roo all night long. I stroked her forehead and sang her songs and kissed her sweet, soft hair (that was nice and clean after our bath together washing her vomit off of both of us). And today I put my big girl panties on and loved those babies of mine all day long. We had another movie marathon but my heart was a little less self-centered and a little bit more service centered and I can honestly tell you there was no other place I would have been than on the couch with Samuel and Emily.
God reads this blog. And I have proof. I wrote about serving my kids and about being all excited to serve them and guess what? They got sick. And while most of the time I don't blame God for illness and other generally bad things, I'm pretty sure this was His doin'. Just a little test to see if I would actually follow through with my good intentions of serving my kids.
Serving your kids is pretty darn easy when they are well enough to follow the house rules, go outside and enjoy a nice day, don't pull at pant leg all day and whine. Oh the whining...
When your kids are sick? Well that's just a whole 'nother ball game of service.
Now don't misunderstand me here; I am not talking about compassion. I've got all sorts of compassion for the poor babes...come on, I'm not a monster. How can you not feel bad for the little buggers when they are all feverish, and shivering and their little coughs sounds like they've swallowed a rottweiler so much so though that I don't know whether to give them cough syrup or perform an exorcism? Poor little things.
No, no, I'm talking service. Like true-I-love-you-more-than-I-love-myself service. That's a hard kind of service. Especially when that service calls for just sitting on the couch and holding them both while watching a marathon of animated favorites. Now like most stay at home Moms our schedules are pretty full so when a "stay home day" (as Samuel calls them) rolls around I like to knock me out some chores so you can imagine with 2 kids on the couch not making a mess behind the one I just cleaned up is rather appealing to me.
Yet when you've got a 2 and 4 year old who are EXACTLY like their mother and want to be loved on when they are sick there is NO house cleaning, or laundry, or bill paying, or blog writing, or thank you card catching up on, or anything else going on. Nope, its pajama snuggle time all day long with only the every 4 hour break to administer more fever reducer. And should I dare to get up and update my Facebook status or get a drink of water or PEE FOR GRACIOUS SAKES its all sorts of drama and whining. So I pretty much sit and hold and snuggle and don't drink nearly as much water as I usually do.
And I while I sit I wonder why its so hard to be still. I think about how in 10 years when they are sick and home from school they will just sit and text and want me to leave them alone. I wonder why I can't just stop looking at the dishes piling up in the sink and enjoy these lovable moments where both of my babies are by my side and holding my hands and not needing anything in the whole world but their Mama.
Last night I fought the urge to get online and watch Hulu while Emily slept next to me in my bed. It was 7:00 and she was sleeping fitfully; it was too early for me to sleep but whenever I left her she whimpered so I laid next to her and stroked her hair and fought the urge to go get Ruby and watch a Grey's Anatomy rerun. I thought about all the times my Mama just held me and loved me when I was sick and how I never, ever felt like she wanted to be anywhere else but with me. I thought about service and if how a feverish Jesus was lying in my bed I would never dream of watching TV or reading a book instead of singing a soothing lullaby. I thought about how I wanted to serve my kids better and how I wrote about it (and that's when it dawned on me that God must read my blog) and that this was my first chance to practice what I preached.
So I snuggled with that Baby Roo all night long. I stroked her forehead and sang her songs and kissed her sweet, soft hair (that was nice and clean after our bath together washing her vomit off of both of us). And today I put my big girl panties on and loved those babies of mine all day long. We had another movie marathon but my heart was a little less self-centered and a little bit more service centered and I can honestly tell you there was no other place I would have been than on the couch with Samuel and Emily.
Friday, February 19, 2010
If It Sounds To Good To Be True...
It probably is. Ugh. I am so glad my husband doesn't read this blog very often because I'm about to tell a very embarrassing story about myself and if he knew I did this (which he never will because you will NOT tell him when you see him, right) he would just laugh and laugh and then make fun of me for a good week. And I probably would get a lecture out of it. Hot Jeff is a lecturer. Ask Samuel.
So Hot Jeff went to a basketball game tonight leaving me home alone with the kiddos during dinner and evening insanity. So to make it a little more fun (for myself) I made them baloney sandwiches and myself a rockin' chicken stir fry.
While I was fryin' up my stir fry I was listening to the radio. It was set to a Christian radio station so when I heard the following commercial I figured it had to be legit. Right?? Mmm, no.
The commercial said call this toll free number and get $1000 worth of grocery vouchers. You can spend it on any kind of food, any brand at any store. I know, right? You'd think I would know better. The commercial said they were doing "market research" and if you call and answer a couple of questions you then get your vouchers. Sweet.
I sprinted to the phone. No lie. Sprinted.
Because I was born yesterday.
The conversation starts out as expected. He asks my first name. Then asks how much I spend on groceries per week and where is my favorite grocery store to shop. Then he asked for my address so he could mail my $1000 worth of grocery vouchers out.
Before I gave him my address I asked sheepishly, "So I'm sure you get this a lot but what is the catch?" "No catch Ma'am". I push a little harder, "There has to be a catch. Why would you be giving out $1000 in grocery vouchers?"
At this point he got super testy with me! He says all snippy like, "As the ad said, its market research". Long pause... "Now, I'm going to need your credit card number to pay for the $4.95 shipping cost".
Yep. If something sounds too good to be true it probably is.
I say in a totally sincere tone, "I am so sorry I have wasted you time; I'm not willing to give you my credit card number".
His tone goes from snippy to rude and he asks, "How did you expect to have the vouchers sent to you?" To which I tell him, "I don't know, I guess I didn't think about it".
I would like to tell you there was further conversation but all I heard on the other end was silence. He had hung up on me!! Can you believe that? Not only was he a scammer but he was a rude scammer!
Ok, its true. I have no proof this is a scam. I have no proof that guy is a lying sack of crap who beats his wife. I do however have really good instincts.
Sometimes they just take a few minutes and some stranger asking me for my credit card number to kick in.
Dang it. I hate it when that happens.
Don't tell Hot Jeff.
It probably is. Ugh. I am so glad my husband doesn't read this blog very often because I'm about to tell a very embarrassing story about myself and if he knew I did this (which he never will because you will NOT tell him when you see him, right) he would just laugh and laugh and then make fun of me for a good week. And I probably would get a lecture out of it. Hot Jeff is a lecturer. Ask Samuel.
So Hot Jeff went to a basketball game tonight leaving me home alone with the kiddos during dinner and evening insanity. So to make it a little more fun (for myself) I made them baloney sandwiches and myself a rockin' chicken stir fry.
While I was fryin' up my stir fry I was listening to the radio. It was set to a Christian radio station so when I heard the following commercial I figured it had to be legit. Right?? Mmm, no.
The commercial said call this toll free number and get $1000 worth of grocery vouchers. You can spend it on any kind of food, any brand at any store. I know, right? You'd think I would know better. The commercial said they were doing "market research" and if you call and answer a couple of questions you then get your vouchers. Sweet.
I sprinted to the phone. No lie. Sprinted.
Because I was born yesterday.
The conversation starts out as expected. He asks my first name. Then asks how much I spend on groceries per week and where is my favorite grocery store to shop. Then he asked for my address so he could mail my $1000 worth of grocery vouchers out.
Before I gave him my address I asked sheepishly, "So I'm sure you get this a lot but what is the catch?" "No catch Ma'am". I push a little harder, "There has to be a catch. Why would you be giving out $1000 in grocery vouchers?"
At this point he got super testy with me! He says all snippy like, "As the ad said, its market research". Long pause... "Now, I'm going to need your credit card number to pay for the $4.95 shipping cost".
Yep. If something sounds too good to be true it probably is.
I say in a totally sincere tone, "I am so sorry I have wasted you time; I'm not willing to give you my credit card number".
His tone goes from snippy to rude and he asks, "How did you expect to have the vouchers sent to you?" To which I tell him, "I don't know, I guess I didn't think about it".
I would like to tell you there was further conversation but all I heard on the other end was silence. He had hung up on me!! Can you believe that? Not only was he a scammer but he was a rude scammer!
Ok, its true. I have no proof this is a scam. I have no proof that guy is a lying sack of crap who beats his wife. I do however have really good instincts.
Sometimes they just take a few minutes and some stranger asking me for my credit card number to kick in.
Dang it. I hate it when that happens.
Don't tell Hot Jeff.
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