Smart boys and their reasonably intelligent mother...

The other night I recorded a debate between Oldest Boy and Middle Boy. It was an impromptu debate...standing at the island in my kitchen...on something to do with Calculus.

I say "something", because I have no idea what they were talking about.  I mean no idea.  They might as well be debating in Japanese...oh wait...they both speak Japanese...and I don't.

Everyone knows that teenagers always ASSUME they are smarter than their parents, but what happens when they really are? Do you acknowledge their mathematical prowess, or just nod  your head and say "Sounds about right to me" when they ask you a question from their Physics class.

Of course, I'm glad that God gave these kids some decent brain power...they will end up supporting us I'm sure, (just looked at the 401k, yipes!)...I'm very grateful for that.

But when do I cave and tell them "You've got me on that one, kid."  and more importantly...

Why doesn't "smart" = "the ability to see dirty clothes laying all over a bedroom floor" ?

Are the comments still "snarky" if you only say them in your head?

Okay, I'm not talking about being "snarky" to anyone in particular. (You DO know what "snarky" is, right? Comments that you KNOW you are only saying to make yourself feel better...that really fall under the "If you don't have something nice to say...don't say anything" category.)

My biggest "snark" is regarding girls and their weight...or lack thereof.  Now, mind you, I honestly only say this is my head...but I've been catching myself doing it alot lately.  I know I shouldn't, but my mind goes right there...

Victoria's Secret girls...the girls at my gym...any of these girls around with no stretch marks...I always say to myself...

"Yeah, let me see them after they have had four kids!"

Is that bad that I do that? Am I only justifying the continual 10 pounds I struggle with ALL THE TIME? Should I be happy for them, that they are fortunate enough NOT to have stretch marks from here to there? I don't know...I've just never been one of those girls who wears her stretch marks proudly...I'm glad for you if you can do that...I WISH I could do that...but I just can't.

So, in light of the Christmas season, and everything that means to me...and looking at the bigger picture of my life and how many blessings I have to be thankful for...I'm going to refrain from saying that phrase in my head (at least until January..baby steps, you know, like running a marathon). 

Everytime I want to compare myself and my body to some other girl's...I'm going to remember my blue-eyed boy, and my other three too...

...and try not to think about the egg nog I indulged in yesterday.

Oldest Boy and his quest for two quarters...

Oldest Boy works as a life guard for one of the large theme parks near our home.  He loves his job, loves it...but sometimes comes home with stories that would curl your hair. Thank God he has never had to save a drowning child, but some of the things he says do involve blood (ugh) or bathing suits toooo small to be worn in public (ewww).

Last night he told me about something that happened between a disabled teenager at the park and himself. It was C-O-L-D yesterday, and yet there were people going down the water slides, etc. (Well, I guess it's cold to us...not necessarily to people from say, Greenland.)  OB had on long pants over his swim trunks and a long jacket with a hood...just counting the minutes until they close, so he can get inside in the heat.

A boy that he knows from high school (this child attended classes at the school for kids with disabilites, but they knew each other from around school) was there with his mom. This boy came up to my boy and said "I dropped something on the slide and I can't get it!"  So, OB is thinking "Omg, I am freezing."...while at the same time, taking off the jacket and pants and getting into the water for this other child to retrieve for him...

...two dropped quarters.

OB was shivering and feeling hypothermia setting in as the other boy says "Thank you" and goes to find his mom.

THIS is exactly what I want from my sons. THIS.  I am a huge proponent of "Think outside yourself."  I am forever drilling into their craniums that the world is a big place and there are a lot of people in it who are in need.  I'm so, so blessed to have children to whom God gave big hearts.. So grateful. So very grateful.

I'll remember this for the rest of my life (although I'm sure OB will forget)...in the meantime...

Here baby, let Momma make you a hot chocolate.

You know it's bad when...

someone has to ask you "Hey! Do you do that blog anymore?"

Yes, well, I still consider myself owner of that blog...does that count?

This might as well be me.  Truly...throw four kids and a hubby in there, a laundry basket, (and don't forget to put the fattest cat in the universe under the desk)...and that's me.  Although, she may have less gray hair than I...

I'm aware that everyone has stuff they have to do...women work outside the home and manage their households all at the same time. My mother (aka "Captain Amazing") held down more than one job, raised kids by herself...and somehow managed to wear clean underwear every single day.  My mother-in-law (aka "Mother Invincible") was able to raise 8 KIDS, help with 1 million grandkids, and serve home cooked meals every night THAT ACTUALLY INCLUDED 4 FOOD GROUPS.

I know that I'm not the first or the last girl on this planet to juggle 15 full-time endeavors at once. I know this, and yet I'm still amazed at my friends who seem to pull it off so effortlessly.  I'm drowning, man, and I show it.

Today's to-do list involves more work with our insurance company (self-employment surely has some downsides), and the amazing stack of medical bills I'm staring at...a trip to the elementary school to work on the teacher's Christmas present, grocery shopping, a run to the office supply store, and an attempt at doing some laundry.

Will there be 5 servings of vegetables involved today? Yes, I sure hope so.

..but will there be clean underwear...

Florida bears and what not to say to your kindergarten teacher.

Baby boy saw this sign yesterday while we were driving through a very rural part of Florida.  It had a small sign underneath it that said "11 mi."

  He was so excited..."Mom, mom!...That sign says for the next 11 minutes there's polar bears!"

I thought it was the cutest thing.

Almost made me forget that he told his kindergarten teacher this week:
   "You are just trying to intimidate me."

Tupperware cabinets and algebra class.

Every night I go to bed and think "Stink! Another day, no blog post." I have all these great ideas and stories to tell of my life in this zoo, but my days are so freaking hectic lately...hectic in a "Did I take a shower today?" kind of way.

I'm room mom for my kindergartner's class, taxi driver for 2 little kids, laundress for 6 single-outfit-wearing impaired humans and chef to the pickiest eaters under the age of 9 you've ever seen. (Laundress...that almost sounds regal, doesn't it...kind of like "Countess" but with bleach spots on her pants.)

As I was cleaning my kitchen yesterday, I went to put away my Tupperware stuff. I have an entire cabinet devoted to these vessels, and try to keep my lids all in one place, while stacking the other pieces so everything fits.  Now, I have to ask myself...."Am I truly being helped by having my boys unload the dishwasher every day, or am I just deluding myself?"

I submit evidence "A" :

Get out your calculators, and think way back to algebra class, kids.  If it takes me 45 minutes to re-organize everything in this cabinet, how many dishwasher "unloads" at 5 minutes each am I costing myself?  Is it actually helping me, if it causes me MORE work down the line?

When you figure out the answer to that question, here's one more for you...

How many snack size Almond Joy bars will it take for me to not care about the Tupperware cabinet, and just shove it all in there and walk away?

Chicago: a lesson in culture and diet abandonment

A few more pictures from Chicago...did I say it's my favorite place to go? I did say that I adore it, right?
 I... do... adore... it. 

The Lincoln Park Zoo is always on the top of our "to-do" list when we go to Chicago. It's free, which is fantastic, (well, free to those of us that don't pay the ridiculous amount of taxes they have to pay up there) and for a family with this many kids, we seriously need some free activities. The boys love the lion house, the lions aren't separated from the humans by glass enclosures, but rather, iron (steel?) bars, so that when they roar, or even yawn, you can hear them. 

There is an outside area to the lion house, and THAT does have glass partitions thankfully, because here's what we saw that day:

Yeah, that's her face, right next to my kids' faces.  Yipes.

We also love to go to the beach. It's a beach unlike those here in Florida...nothing there wants to eat you, except for the occasional aggressive seagull (I think they might eat you, if given the opportunity). The water is FREEZING, but that's never stopped my kids from getting in it. It has stopped me every time, however...I'm not looking to have a heart attack there on the pristine shores of Lake Michigan.  Here's my little darlings, leaping wildly over the crashing waves:

 Okay, so I took a small amount of liberties with that description...

Now, don't think that this is, by any stretch of the imagination, the only things we do up there, there's a million things to do...but if I may, let's get right to the "food" portion of our virtual tour, shall we?

The food in Chicago is amazing. It is delicious, for the most part culturally authentic, and almost always inexpensive.  (Except for the deep dish pizza, it's pricey, I'm not sure why that is.)  I love to eat a hot dog with 11 items on top, or Indian food from a buffet on Belmont Avenue. There are so many places to choose from, well, lets just say I came back 5 pounds heavier. No lie...just ask my pants.

We ate at a high priced fancy hotel downtown one night, just me and my mom. My brother "J" runs the kitchen there, yep: Head Chef extraordinaire.  You cannot imagine the thrill of sitting down to a beautiful table, in a gorgeous hotel and saying to your chef-brother..."Hit me". 

He had two questions before we got started: 

1.  "Are you hungry?" (Cue very large grin on his face.)

2.  "Is there anything you won't eat?"

Our replies:  Yep and Nope!

Here's some of what we had...the photo quality is stinky, I know, I only had my cell phone.

This is fois grais two ways...and there are zero ways to describe it's awesome-ness.

This is lobster with forbidden rice and a curry sauce that would make you sell your best Brighton sandals in order to buy some more.

And this is sea scallop with pork belly and yes, those are slices of truffle you see. OMG. So good.

All of these wonderful things (and this isn't everything we ate, we felt a little foolish taking so many pictures..so kept it to a minimum) came with garnishes of the most wonderful vegetables: little tomatoes, baby eggplant and turnips, it was just beyond words it was so good.

Apparently (from what I heard) the waitstaff there were very impressed with our ability to eat everything from the numerous plates set in front of us.  We try to excel in everything, you know.

Soooo, go to Chicago. Take your kids and your wallet, see everything you have time to see..

 And don't forget your stretchy pants.

The importance of date night...

Last night hubby and I went out on a date. Finally. With 4 kiddos at home and everyone going in separate directions all the time, it's hard to find a spot on the schedule for "us".  We went out for some sushi, and then went to see a funny movie. It was so nice.  While we were sitting in the movie theater, waiting for the commercials to start (which stinks, by the way, what the heck??!!)...he looked at me and said "You are such a pretty girl."

Don't get me wrong...he is always very generous with the positives when it comes to me.  He never fails to tell me I look beautiful (even just before or *gasp* immediately after giving birth to a kid), but something about the way he said that was just so sweet and kind. I don't feel very "girly" lately I guess, kids and work tend to run me down...but hearing him say it like that made me feel 10 years younger, 10 pounds lighter, and reminded me of just how great a husband he is.

"Date night"...I highly recommend it.

Middle Boy and the car dilemma

Before I move on into insightful and witty discussions about the differences between big city Chicago living...and the somewhat hicksville (yet always classy) locale I live in...can I just say:

"OMG my 16 year-old is out driving himself all over the place!"

Middle Boy turned 16 in May, and couldn't wait to get his driver's license. He watched his older brother get his, and get a car...and couldn't wait for his turn.  Now, I was thinking it would be easier, watching the next child drive away...because, you know, I'd gotten through it once.

Wrong. I'm back to having stomach clenching worry and watching the clock (bleary-eyed) until 11, when he has to be home. 

The one thing that really bugs me the most about this is:  we have no money to buy Middle Boy a used car.  When Oldest Boy was 17, we handed him the keys to a Mustang (yes, capitalized)...and not just any Mustang, it has red and black leather inside, that new "retro" body style,  and looks pretty (sorry O.B., I said "pretty").  It wasn't new, just new to him, and he worked really hard in school and sports (not getting home each day until 7pm, only to start studying) , and we wanted to do this for him. And we could.

Being in the residential construction industry...I guess you can imagine what my bank account looks like these days. It's been a tough couple of years.  Middle Boy wants a jeep so badly, but Mom and Dad just can't swing it right now. (And we aren't talking "expensive, tricked out jeep"...the one he saw and would love to have is 14 years old.) We've made a deal with Middle Boy: since Dad works from home, how about if Dad and Middle Boy share the ride in the garage?  He accepted the deal-i-o...go figure.

So if you happen to see this:

driving down the street...please keep an eye on it...and let me know if he changes lanes without signaling.

Goin' to Mom-mom's house...

I recently took Little Boy and Baby Boy to see my mom "Mom-mom" in Chicago.  Usually I take all four boys (this annual trip was created when hubby was in the military, and gone for a couple weeks each summer). This year I only took the youngest two because the older two had stuff going on here...and being self-employed, hubby doesn't get much vacation time (which stinks, but that can wait for another post).

I adore Chicago...love it, love it, love it.  The kiddos also love to go there, but wow, is it a culture shock for them...in many ways.

For example, you can imagine the time it takes for little boys to learn to not stomp on the floor. We live in a house where the only things living below us are the fire ants that owned this property 20 years ago. When we go to Chicago, the kids have to learn not to jump down from 4 stairs up the staircase, or RUN to the bathroom at the last minute after drinking 83.5 ounces of  juice.  I feel badly for the family below us, if you are reading this:    "Sorry, family in the first floor of Mom-mom's two flat, they drank alot of juice."

I'll be posting some pictures from the trip in the next couple of days...including the pictures from the dinner we had that my brother (the chef) made.  Put down that ice cream scoop tonight because just looking at those pictures is going to put a couple of pounds on you...you've been warned.

Baby Boy and my failure to grasp proper English usage...

I know that I've been gone alot lately, I'm trying to get some "work-related" things done, and frankly, I'm getting my butt kicked in the process...but I'm still here, and had to come and jot down this little tidbit...just to completely validate my feelings of inadequacy and ignorance.

I was talking to Baby Boy yesterday (the 5 year-old).  He was setting up a bunch of matchbox cars on sofa pillows piled on the floor, trying to create a rugged terrain for them (or further destroy my pillows, one of the two).

As he's moving stuff around, making those little car sounds that can only come from individuals owning a "y" chromosome, he says "Oh man, all my cars just fell off."

Mom: "I'm sorry Baby Boy, are the pillows too wobbly to drive on?"

Baby Boy: "Don't you mean they're too unstable, Mom?"  *eye roll*

Bottom line:  If you are only 5 years old and thinking your mother is a complete ignoramus...it's only downhill for both of you from here on out.

Life lessons usually stink...

A bummer of a post...well, maybe not a bummer, maybe thought-provoking and insightful...yeah, right.

Do you know how people say that phrase "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" ??  How accurate is that, anyway?  I mean, does it literally come down to those two choices when handed something particularly painful in your life?  Am I a stronger person because of this one thing or another, or actually weaker and more afraid of things?

And about this "killing"....what if damage has previously been done that actually kills off a part of me.  Does that count in the equation too?  How do you know if it's dead?  Is it something that can be resurrected at some point?  How exactly would you do that?

I understand that everyone has stuff in their life that isn't on their top 10 "Things that would be so great to deal with right now" list.  I get it. And most people walk around with some part of themselves that's fragile, or damaged...and we just cope, right?

I know that in everything that occurs in my life there is a lesson I should be learning. I mean, I do really believe that...but sometimes I just have to ask "Why Lord, do I need to learn THIS, now?"

The coolest chick from my high school days...

I got to see an old friend of mine from high school yesterday.  Old as in "from before"...not old as in "decrepit". Just to be clear.  It had been many years since we'd last visited each other, 15 to be exact. She was my best friend in school, and the coolest chick around.

Sitting with her on my back porch, talking about what we used to do, people we went to school with, what's been happening since our graduation in 19*cough, cough*...was so much fun.

We laughed about her perfect hand with liquid eyeliner, and teenage knowledge of which brands you could wear for days at a time, remembered how we ate nothing but empty carbs and crap and still wore size 6's, spoke of her mother (who has passed away, and I'm so sorry), and my brother...who was a rugrat when we used to hang out, and developed a brain tumor at the age of 19 (and survived!). We basically covered 20-something years of separation in the couple of hours she was here, and I wished it could have been longer.

Next time it will definitely be a longer visit...and will include some sort of key lime pie-ice cream thingy, covered in chocolate...she swears it's amazing.

I love you, Deb. You are fab-u-lous.

Finally learning what a father should be...

Father's Day is a holiday I never really celebrated until I became a mother...go figure.  I was never close with the men in my life growing up...my birth father, or the man that became my father after he married my mom. I never really understood what a father was supposed to do or be.

I learned about fatherhood from the man that I married. He came from a large family, 7 siblings, not including "step-siblings" and was enamored with every niece and nephew that came into his life.  He loved the noise and chaos that came from every family get-together, and was always outside running with the little kids, instead of sitting inside with the "grown-ups".  I remember sitting on the couch with my sister-in-law and laughing every time hubby would run past the window with a slew of  kiddos chasing him through the yard.

We had our first baby when hubby turned 25, and then another three more within the next 10 years. Wow! That's alot of kids, right? But just two days ago he asked me... "Wouldn't it be nice to have just one more?"

This man has taught me what a dad really is. His sons love to hang out with him, go places with him, play video games and paintball with him.  Hubby has spoken with the boys often, using words like: "respect", "integrity", "responsibility", and "love". He kisses and hugs them, even as they get older...Oldest Boy sobbed when his dad hugged him at the graduation ceremony.  He has showed them what it means to love a wife, and has always been affectionate with me in front of them.

I am so grateful that my sons DO know what a father is supposed to do and be, and I am certain that they will grow into marvelous fathers as well...being taught by one of the best.

Fatigue and the quest for perfect parties!

I'm exhausted...I woke up exhausted...how is it 7am, and I'm already tired?!

Actually, I know the answer to that question, and if you guessed "Your pregnant?!" just go ahead and wash your mouth out with soap right now.  I'll wait...

I have been working on Middle Boy's 16th birthday party preparations for the last couple of days. Now that Oldest Boy's graduation is done, it's time to move on to the next "big thing" around here. You know, if you think about it, there are 6 of us in this house...even if you ONLY celebrate birthday's each year (and there is always more stuff going on than just birthdays), I'm still committed to doing something at least every other month.  It can be exhausting.

Milestone birthdays are huge for me...Hubby's 40th birthday included a cook-out/pool party with a dunk tank and a movie I made for him detailing our history together.  Oldest Boy's 16th party was luau themed, with surfboards and fishing nets and a cake in the shape of a beach house.  The same child had a costume party when he turned 18, with custom printed candy bars, and cobwebs hanging from every chandelier and picture frame.

When I say "party", I mean "party".

Middle Boy requested a casino theme for his party tomorrow night. We will have two separate tables running tomorrow, one huge poker table that my husband will run, and one blackjack table that I will run...with Oldest Boy filling in when potty breaks are required (or when I have to pay the pizza guy).

I have TONS of casino decor to hang in my house, everything red and black...balloons, streamers, etc.  I have automatic card shufflers for both tables, 1,000 poker chips (no lie!) and dealer costumes for the three adults to wear...I'll definitely post a picture.  Buying a full sheet cake with just the writing on it, and then decorating it with casino things I've purchased...it's going to be amazing.

In the meantime, I've been mopping floors, cleaning glass, washing blankets and pillows (many of these kids will sleep here tomorrow night), and stocking up on AA batteries for the Xbox 360 controllers. I have even pressure washed the pool deck and cleaned out the fridge...you never know who will dig in your fridge at 2am after you've gone to bed.

This party is going to be really great! I just hope I don't collapse in my fancy new dealer suit...

Trying to look at the positives...tired of the negatives.

I have a ton of stuff that I need to get done around here in the next couple of days...Middle Boy is having his 16th birthday party here on Wednesday night. It's "Casino Night", and we have a poker table and a blackjack table ready to go...along with 50 million decorations, including dealer costumes for Dad and I (and Oldest Boy) to wear. Should be fun, he's excited, and I'm excited for him...

Frustrated though that in spite of that, I'm feeling so down this morning. And I hate to post about things that are sad...I try to be encouraging and uplifting...but maybe I require the uplifting today, I don't know.

A close family member and I haven't spoken in almost two years...August will be two years. The last time I saw him was at my grandmother's funeral...he has ignored me since then.  I have called and written, and nothing. My kids have sent cards to him...still nothing. When I sent him an invitation to Oldest Boy's graduation, I put a note in there saying "Oldest Boy is really hoping that he will hear from you, you are greatly missed around here."

Did Oldest Boy hear from him? Nope.   Is my kid hurt by that? Yep.   Does that tick me off? You betcha.

We used to be really close, when Oldest Boy & Middle Boy were in elementary school, we used to see him often, and get cards, etc. from him. The kids adored him.

I am the queen of "Focus on those that love you."...."You have a million people who care about you."....."This is something wrong with (fill in name of hurtful person), it has nothing to do with you."   So why is this bothering me so freaking much?

I really do try to teach my sons that they can only control their own reactions, not the actions of others. I think it's a self-preservation technique really...I mean, you could go crazy wondering why someone doesn't love you, or care...but what good does that do?  I'm always telling them to be the best person they can, and let the hurtful stuff roll off them.... Why is it so hard to practice what I preach? 

I'm going to spend my day working on stuff for the party...focusing on this Middle Boy that I love so much...looking at the positives...hoping it helps.

"To shave or not to shave" or "Why must you drive your Momma crazy?"

On a side note:

As I'm writing my last post about Oldest Boy's graduation ceremony, I get a phone call from Middle Boy.  Today was his last day of school, and he's hanging out with some of the guys on his crew team, at one of the boy's houses.  Here's how the call went:

Me:  "Hey Middle Boy, what's up?"
MB:  "Is it okay if I shave my head?"
Me:  "Um...what?"
MB:  "We were all going to shave our heads.  Well, actually, so & so is going to shave an arrow on the top of his head, but I'm thinking I'll probably just shave mine the same length everywhere."
Me:  "What about your big birthday party next week? I was planning on taking pictures?!"
MB:  "Well, let me see how so & so's hair looks, and then I'll decide what I want to do."

Now, I live in what I would call a "Hair Household". We all take our hair pretty seriously around here, there's enough bottles of product to fill our swimming pool out back.  For a child of mine to say he's going to shave his head...well, it's a pretty shocking proposition, it's just not something we do. Ever.... We. Never. Do. It.
  *sigh*

Please Lord, don't let them shave a birthday cake onto Middle Boy's head...

Graduation ceremony, and a momma trying not to cry.

It's been a whirlwind since I've last been able to post.  Oldest Boy graduated from high school last Saturday. It was a great ceremony, at the sports arena by us, 600 or so kids in the group.

Grandma (Mom-mom) came and so did Auntie, along with a couple of my girlfriends...(Oldest Boy has several "moms" that keep him in line - lucky kid), we had a pretty good-sized group.  When we sat down we were looking through the program, and saw about six valedictorians.  You could hear everyone in the seats...glancing at the program...all saying "Six?! Are you freaking kidding?! Omg, how long are we going to be sitting here??!"  I envisioned a screaming bladder (mine), and two small children climbing the walls (also mine).  I guess they were told to make it snappy with the speeches, because each one only lasted about two minutes.  Perfect, if you ask me.

And of course, they say, "Only applaud during such and such times"....and you KNOW I still yelled, albeit briefly, when they said my kid's name.  So much for setting a good example for the kiddies.

Hard to believe he's done...I can so clearly remember the day that he started kindergarten, and how I cried then, too.  It's been a tough couple of days for me, very bittersweet.

I love you, kiddo...more than I can ever say.

A post to make YOU feel better about your stinky morning...

You're welcome.

If you think you are having a bad morning...here, allow me to help you feel better about it, by telling you about mine.

My morning started with sunshine and birdsong.  Just kidding, it started in the pitch-black of 3:30 a.m., with me waking up in bed, worrying over money, school scheduling, insurance issues, birthday party to-do lists, and hunger pains (because I ate egg whites for dinner again last night).

After spending a couple of hours paying some bills, and trying to find casino decorations online (birthday party), I started to get everyone up for work and school.  As I'm running around the house like an asylum escapee, I hear a loud, weird sound in the kitchen. I walked in there briefly and didn't see anything but the cat, so I just figured it was him getting into something on the countertop, which he does when I'm not looking.

The next time I came through the kitchen, I actually turned the light on and looked towards my pantry...a bottle of butterscotch liqueur had fallen from the top shelf, hitting the tile floor and exploding into THREE different rooms....kitchen, dining room and laundry room.  This bottle shattered into amazingly minuscule pieces, and when mixed with sticky butterscotch libation, stuck to walls, baseboards, doors, you name it. 

Oh, and did I mention that it took out a bottle of olive oil I had on the floor of the pantry? Yeah, liqueur AND olive oil, poured out in my pantry, soaking into everything else I had stored there.

Have you ever had to clean up something that was so mind-boggling you didn't know where to start? (Remind me to tell you about the time Little Boy smeared Desitin all over the dark blue carpet.)  This was one of those jobs. Lots of hot water, 1 1/2 rolls of paper towels...I'm sighing as I type this.

And then there's this:

No kids, that's not a jewel encrusted pink apron for Mommy, that's my glass shard infested apron...one of three like that, that were hanging on the wall across from my pantry.

Middle Boy and his monstrous shoulders...

Middle Boy turned 16 yesterday. He went with some friends to Disney World, came home to some grilled steak and cupcakes.

He was my biggest baby, *cue nightmarish delivery story*  9 pounds, 11 ounces...and a couple of weeks early.  He was my only child that had a "shoulder delivery" as well as a "head delivery"...my mother-in-law, standing at the foot of the bed during the delivery said:   "You had a toddler!"

I had gone into the doctor's office for my checkup, and my blood pressure was through the roof (a common occurrence for me) and I was showing signs of preeclampsia. The doctor informed me that I wouldn't be going home at all that day, that a hospital bed had been saved for me, and to get my butt into it.  I called hubby at work and said "You need to go home, pack my things, and meet me at the hospital."  Of course, he thought I was kidding, poor guy.  (I hadn't packed anything yet, wasn't anticipating having the baby early...oops.)

The doctor started the induction, and again, a phone call to hubby's office:  "Really honey, you need to come now, he broke my water." 

In hubby's defense, my first delivery started on a Friday morning with an induction, with the child finally being born on Sunday morning...so naturally, he's thinking (we both did) "I've got time.".

Turns out, he did have time. Time to go home and pack stuff...time to eat a couple of meals...time to wonder just how he was going to afford paying the college tuition for these kids....

And then, there Middle Boy was. He only required a small convention of doctors and cheerleaders, some help from a suction-thingy...and threats made to a mom (by a loving sister-in-law) who was so exhausted from delivering his huge head, she wanted to quit before his shoulders made it out.


This child is a blessing to me in every way. He is an athlete of the highest integrity, he works very hard in school and he's always wanting me to make him a sandwich.

I adore him.

A train wreck of a bathroom...

Oldest Boy and some friends went to Busch Gardens yesterday.  They had planned this out during the week, figuring out who would drive, etc...celebrating the end of their senior year.

Now I know that Oldest Boy told me they would all be meeting up here at our house yesterday morning, and I kind of did a quick run around the house, picking up used sippy cups, making sure Baby Boy didn't ditch his dirty underwear in the foyer (don't laugh, he's done that!).  I figured it would be fine, they were just going to pull up, maybe chat me up at the front door, everyone check for sunscreen, and leave.

I ran to the store after I dropped off Little Boy at school...and returned home to find them all still here, sitting on the couch, playing video games. "Okay, still okay, I think all the bedroom doors are shut, no one sees the messes....they should be leaving any minute now..."

I was in the kitchen putting some things away when I noticed one of the girls had gone missing...my brain screams:
"Omg, is she using the boy's bathroom?!"  "Please tell me she isn't using the boy's bathroom!"

As soon as she came around the corner, I knew...she had just visited the cursed "boy's bathroom". *sigh*  I said "I'm so sorry you had to use that bathroom! I haven't been in to clean it yet!"  "It's okay", she said...and yet had that dazed look about her, like someone who witnessed a train wreck or just stumbled across a dead body.

I went into that bathroom as soon as they left, and seriously, I wanted to weep.  I have WALKED OUT of gas station restrooms that were cleaner than this!!! There were dirty handprints on all the white drawers, toothpaste hardened all over the sink and counter, one ratty towel dangling from the towel bar and...
OMG!!  did someone wipe their butt with the throw rug when they ran out of toilet paper????!!!!!

I feel like I should wear a sign around my neck everyday of my life...most of the time it would say "I'm really an organized and sane person, I swear."   But for a special occasion such as yesterday's, maybe it should say "I DO clean my house, please believe me!"

Used clothes and chicken nuggets

One of my best friends in the whole world gave me some great gifts the other day...her used clothes. 

Now, when I say to you "used clothes" do you imagine some shirts or skirts with some wear, maybe a seam that needs repairing, a discreet spot or two?  Yeah, usually that's what I envision too...

No, her used clothes are pristine, pressed perfectly, newer-looking than most of the items I've only worn once.  When she says "I have some clothes for you."...my heart rate literally increases...it's like going shopping on someone else's credit card.

[Being a mom in a home with all these kids, plus a husband who has to wear decent dress clothes to work each day, buying clothes for myself is pretty low on the priority list.  I work from home, and run kids back and forth, how great do my clothes have to be anyway? I own one pair of jeans at a time, for example, and I wear those suckers until I rip a hole in the butt or blow out a zipper...luckily that's never occurred anywhere but at home, or in my driveway (the last ones bit the dust when I was climbing in my suv-hopefully no neighbors witnessed it).]

So, best friend comes over on Saturday...arms full of clothes, and you should see what she brought. There were some cute summery dresses (already wore two of them), some blouses, some skirts. These clothes are amazingly beautiful, classy and perfect.  Obviously not owned by someone who has four sons, all of whom use their clothing (and their mother's) as places to wipe lips, noses, and greasy fingers.

I'm in clothes heaven right now, feeling like a supermodel...I guess I should enjoy it before Baby Boy gets his next meal of chicken nuggets...

Wonder Dad and the stuffed tiger...

On Saturday, Baby Boy told Dad and I that it was "Tiger's" birthday Sunday. (Tiger is this little stuffed animal he'd been playing with all day.)  When I was tucking Baby Boy into bed Saturday night, we talked about celebrating Tiger's birthday with some cupcakes or cookies or something (none of which I can eat...but that's relevant only to me).  He was so excited that I was going to go along with it and make him a treat for him and his Tiger.

(On a side note: my cookies are slice and bake from the refrigerator, and my cupcakes come from a box mix. There, I said it and I'm not ashamed...if I had to do it from scratch, these kids would only get treats once every 17 years.)

Sunday morning Dad runs to the store to get some donuts for the kiddos (again, more goodies that I can't eat...notice how I never get to eat anything fun?) and a newspaper.

Dad (now known as "Wonder Dad") surprised Baby Boy and Little Boy by buying them a tiny ice cream cake, so they could have an official birthday party for Tiger. 

This is a man who has so many balls in the air, constantly juggling...he works 60 hours a week, and then he works most weekends here at home, too. I mean he doesn't have time to breathe...much less remember a quick conversation about a stuffed animal named Tiger. (I'm lucky I remember my own name most of the time). He went and looked for something that he could bring to his kids, just for fun, just because. It really touched my heart that he did this.

I hope these boys appreciate just how great their Wonder Dad is...

Little Boy, our social butterfly.

As I'm picking up my darling Little Boy (he's 8) from school on Tuesday, his teacher walks over to my car to tell me something. You know this can either be a really good thing: "Little Boy did such and such in class today and I'm so proud of him!"...(which we've gotten recently)...

or a "not-so" really good thing......like what she said to me on Tuesday...

"I had to send Little Boy out of the classroom today, he just would not stop talking."

Now, I've been in Little Boy's classroom many times, and man, there are so many kids in there, that frankly, I don't know how the teacher does it. (Kudos to all you teachers, you are amazing.) She's got all of these kids in different levels of reading and math skills (not to mention emotional stability), that it's a miracle how well they all come out at the end of the year.  I can appreciate that it makes her job that much harder when she's got one that can't keep his cute little lips shut.

My boys have always been pretty well-behaved in class. My mother would call the reason for that a "Proper Fear of Dad".  They knew that if they got in trouble in school, they would then get second dose of trouble when they got home.

For Little Boy, being sent out was devastating. To be sent to another class and sit in front of the staring eyes of other students...where everyone knows and whispers "Ooooh, he's in trouble!"   It's probably as bad as it could get for him. 

At home Little Boy has been restricted from any video games this week, plus swimming in the pool after school, and no access to my computer. You would think his little world came to an end.  Hopefully he will remember how bummed he is now the next time he wants to be Mr. Socialite in the classroom.

On a side note: My husband and I have only ourselves to blame for this...we can both provide undeniable proof of the genetics here by simply showing our own report cards...eerily similar...saying "She/He does a great job in class, and is very bright, however has a problem with talking too much in class."

Poor kid, he was set up to fail...

Perfume and dirty socks...

I have to know...do moms of teenage girls get asked to smell clothes?  I don't mean "Ooooh, this perfume is delightful Mom, smell it!"  I mean "This shirt has been in my bed for 3 days, does it stink too much to wear?"

I try to be a supportive mom you know, but really... When you say "Does this smell bad?", I'm already bracing for the worst, and wondering...."Was this in the job description when I was hired?"

Have any of you watched the Malcolm in the Middle episode where the mom imagines she has all daughters instead of sons? The boys are kicking and fighting in the back seat of the van, on their way to get some new underwear or something...and then the mom sees her imaginary daughters...all getting along, brushing each other's hair, delighting in the fact that they are going shopping at the mall. 

Do you moms of girls have rides in the car that are pleasant, cheerful and fresh-smelling, while I ride with armpit farts and dirty socks and rowing shirts stuffed under the seats?

Don't get me wrong, I adore my boys, but sometimes...I just wonder how the other half lives...

Middle boy and the pantry...

Yes, much different than the last title, I know.  (Those of you who know Middle Boy will actually get an extra laugh out of that...)

 At what point in my relationship with Middle Boy did I become the play toy? Now that he is bigger than I am, I am all sorts of funny when being lifted and moved around or tossed into the swimming pool.  You might say that it's all paybacks from when he was little, but I would beg to differ.  HIS FATHER is the one who should be getting payback from that nonsense...not The Momma. 

Today as I was putting groceries into the pantry, Middle Boy comes up behind me and says "Uh-oh, time to put Mom in the pantry!"  and literally puts me in and shuts the door...my face against the Chef Boyardee and canned peas.

This is not a walk-in pantry.

This is a regular pantry, 5 shelves or whatever, bi-fold door, with just enough room for Momma and her big butt to get shut in it.

I couldn't argue or fight back because I was laughing too much at the ridiculousness of it...Oldest Boy walks by and says "Is she really in there?"...like I can't hear him talking....

Oldest Boy and my heart...

Yes, I know there are plenty of posts about him lately, but between graduation and getting his college paperwork taken care of...he's got alot of stuff written on my "to-do" list.

Yesterday was difficult for me, something that I didn't expect...I was helping him get ready to go to his girlfriend's prom, they go to different schools (next week is his prom). He got most of his stuff on here, and was going to go to her parents to finish up and take pictures etc. 

I walk him to his car, get his A/C cranking, hang his tuxedo jacket in the back, and give him a kiss...and sob.

Teary-eyed as I type this too. All week I was SO excited for him to go, couldn't wait to see him in his tux, helped him pick out flowers.  Why now am I feeling so heartbroken?

I think part of me worries so much about my boys leaving...and not seeing much of them when they go. I mean, my mom and I hang out, go to movies together, that sort of thing...but how often do grown men want to go and just hang out alone with their mothers? Am I destined to be the butt of every "mother-in-law" joke on the planet?  You've seen the movies...where the wife says "Yeah, but YOUR MOTHER" was here!" 

I want to be included in my grandchildren's births, but I know her mom has first dibs...I want to help when there is a problem, but I know she'll turn to her own mother first for help.  It's normal and natural (I think) for it to be that way...

I wonder if other moms of boys have these fears?  Am I just making myself crazy with it?

Am I going to drive my husband insane when these kids leave???  Is there enough chocolate on the planet to get me through this???

Smiles on the homefront...

Baby Boy is feeling much better about things this morning, so glad that we are done with the tears...of course he'll have to hear about the party today at school...is it bad if I keep him home so that I might avoid more guilt this afternoon??

Oldest Boy went and picked up the tuxedo.  I like it alot.  He's going to look so cute. (He HATES cute, hates it...but I call them as I see them.)

It's not the best picture, but you get the idea. I LOVE the tie, I thought he'd go with a bow tie, but Pretty Princess (the girlfriend)  knows her stuff.  Keep in mind, that Oldest Boy is thin as a rail...I could probably wrap this sucker around him twice and he'd still have room for a buffet dinner before the prom.  Hopefully I can make this look right on him.

Did I mention that he's going to wear this two weekends in a row? How well do you suppose this suit is going to fare after the first weekend? Too bad for Oldest Boy, he won't be allowed to eat or drink anything all night...he better carbo-load before he gets dressed...

I'm the worst mom on the planet....

Baby Boy got an invitation to a birthday party for a classmate from preschool.  It was for today after school, outside, where the kids would get wet. I declined the invitation, for a few reasons:

1.  It's a school night...I still have to make sure that Little Boy gets his homework finished, it's due every Friday.

2.  It's a million degrees outside. I would be miserable, sitting and watching him play with water, while I'm having a heatstroke.  (We have a swimming pool that I've been taking him every afternoon.)

3.  I don't know one mother or father in the group. I've been to a couple of the functions there, and never really connected with anyone.  So I'd basically be sitting by myself for two hours (while sweating, don't forget the sweating part).

4.  Oldest Boy needs to go pick up his tuxedo...so I would then have to take Little Boy to the party also, and have to deal with that.

I just don't know. I thought it would be okay, I didn't mention it anymore to Baby Boy, thought I'd made it without a scene.  Until someone at school brought it up...I should have known...ugh.
Now he's crying these big, huge tears.  And I feel like a total schmuck.  I'm overwhelmed with the stuff here sometimes, and honestly, just couldn't see adding anything else to my plate. What a mess.

I'll be taking him in the pool again today, and making him some chocolate chip cookies...and maybe buying him a new car or something...*sigh*

Discernment....

You know what this is...it describes (among other things) the ability to know when to say certain things and when NOT to...

Please, allow me to illustrate:

a)  Oldest Boy stands in driveway and looking at new small ding in his Mustang says "Well, this sucks."
versus:
b)  Baby Boy is told to sit and color his picture in his preschool class instead of running around...as he sits...he says..."Well, this sucks."

Or:
Mom (in a moment of frustration) says "Fine, I guess I'll have to go get a glass of wine in order to deal with all of you arguing this evening."
versus:
Baby Boy (at school) says "We made my mom drink last night."

You can see the need for lessons in discernment for Baby Boy. All the other boys have learned it, but it's hard, having a 5 year-old at home, who listens to what his older brothers say, and copies it WORD FOR WORD.

I'm going to be working on it alot over the summer, I can just see those notes coming home from the new kindergarten teacher in the fall..."Mrs. F., I had an interesting discussion with your son today...."

Oh! And....

I got to go see Iron Man 2 Friday night! Woo!  I loved it!  Go see it!  (And yes, I embarrassed Middle Boy most of the time, by taking pictures of the movie screen with my cell phone...Mom is such a dork...ha ha ha.)

The weekend...

Stayed at the hotel with the hubby and three of my four kiddos this past weekend. Middle Boy was in his last crew race of the season, and we decided to road-trip it down there and watch. Middle Boy had to stay in the hotel with his team, we didn't see much of him, unfortunately (or "fortunately" if you are Oldest Boy).

I must say, there is just nothing to compare with watching your child pull a boat at a phenomenal pace, with Mom screaming her lungs raw (not that he can hear me out there, but it's really hard to contain myself).

We took the boys out to dinner on Saturday night, to a "Japanese Steakhouse"...why they ever started calling themselves that I'll never know...sort of goofy.  You know the type, where they cook your food on the huge hibachi grill right front of you, making you sweat and leaving you smelling like a short-order cook.

The small boys, of course, love the flames and smoke and the juggling of the spatulas...Mom  loves the stack of vegetables they always leave on their plates, and the need for a second mortgage to pay the bill at the end...but it's all in the name of family fun, though, right? Right-o.

The little cuties loved the hotel room, wanting to turn on all the televisions (there were 3!) and hairdryers (you know the ones attached to the walls in the hotel bathrooms), open every closet door, look out every window. Baby Boy actually teared up when it was time to go, he was so enamored with the place.

They swam in the pool...don't even think it, you KNOW I didn't get in my bathingsuit....got their eyes blistered with the amount of chlorine (I told them that lots of chlorine in there is a good thing, "Just don't open your eyes!"), and ate at the hotel's breakfast buffet like they hadn't had a meal in weeks (meanwhile I'm still reeling over the bill from the restaurant the night before).

I'm so grateful that we had the chance to go "hang out". It seems like we are so busy now, eating dinner at different times, coming and going so much, that to just sit with my men and relax (well, kind of) was really a blessing.

Now I just have to do a presoak on our laundry, to get that "freshly deep fried" scent out of it...

An Ed Hardy kind of birthday...

So the birthday went well. Very well. Hubby rolled sushi for those who were here Friday (yum!), Oldest Boy and Baby Boy picked out a cake that was wonderful (and yes, I DID eat too much of it..in case you were wondering).

Got a fun couple of gifts from the Mother-figure, Little Brother and the Little Sister. My side of the family lives in Chicago, and so, unfortunately we weren't together for my birthday...but they did send some fun presents.  I was opening the box, and as my niece is watching me I pull out a purse. Shiny, new, with funky metal detailing..."Woo!" I think..."I need a purse, mine is beat to death!".  My niece says "Wow, you got a 'Cathy'?"  And I'm thinking "No, it's a purse."...um...what?  "It's a 'Cathy'" she says..."You don't know what a 'Cathy' is?"

Now, if you said "Wow, you got a 'Weight Watchers'!"  or "Wow, you got a 'Fisher Price'!"...then I would know exactly what you are talking about.  I am a girl who buys my purses at the box stores that start with either a "T" or a "W", and only if they are on sale.  I currently am carrying a purse big enough to smuggle a newborn AND a puppy, with the pleather worn through so that you see the cloth underneath in spots.  It has half eaten lollipops stuck to the inside, along with capless pens, a melted lipstick, and I think, enough change to park my car in a metered spot for two weeks.

Should I just use this purse for everyday things? Or should I buy another bag on sale at "T" or "W" and save this one for special occasions?  If you could see the fancy lining in this thing...maybe I should save it and only use it only AFTER children quit handing me half-eaten items...in 20 years or so.

Little Sister bought me a rockin' headband from Ed Hardy. They sell these things for $25...a splurge I would never employ for myself (4 kids, all living at home...all eating...you do the math).  Which makes it a SPLENDID gift. I love it.  Nevermind the fact that my teenagers believe me to be too old to wear Ed Hardy in a cool manner...or say the word "rockin'".

All in all it was a wonderful weekend, spent with people that I love and adore.  Homemade sushi not once, but twice (and he cleaned the kitchen too!!), cool gifts, wonderful family and friends..I am truly blessed.

What does 41 look like?

I guess I'll know what it looks like on me tomorrow, but I know I've seen plenty of other girls wearing it, and it looks pretty fantastic on them.
 I'm hoping it will be like when you are in the dressing room and looking at a dress (or skirt, pants, tubetop...just kidding) and thinking "There is no way this is going to fit me...without the use of a starvation diet and a shoe horn at least". But then, it actually fits!
Maybe I'll try it on and be pleasantly surprised at the fit and feel of it.  There's so much about myself that I'm always so critical of, my hair, my hips, my inability to file the correct forms with the Department of Revenue...that I'm thinking tomorrow I'm going to try to tell myself things that I LIKE about myself...and leave criticisms until Saturday, possibly even Sunday.

I'll let you know how it goes, and if you see my number on your caller i.d. this weekend, know for sure that I'm looking for somewhere to unload birthday cake, before I eat it all.

First day of the diet...for realz.

The girl at the clinic yesterday made a deal with me, that if I would be extremely "clean" with what I ate, and write every single bite down for one week...and then "ta-da" I will see significant improvement in the weight loss department.

Two problems with this:

1st - eating clean...have you seen my pantry? the fridge? Yeah, there's a couple of apples in the fridge, and a bagged salad mix, but then there are 14,563 things I could eat that taste MUCH better.  I know if I tried I could still find some chocolate from Valentines Day.

2nd - writing all this crap down...um, sure, I'll sit and write while I'm laying in my chaise lounger out by the pool.  For this to work, I will have to wear a sharpie around my neck and write the food list up my arm all day. I have 4 sons people, and it's the end of the school year for 3 of them, with Oldest Boy graduating. I live in the circus on most days, just a small petting zoo on the rare good ones.

Alright, for 7 days, I can do this...and I will...and you will listen to me gripe and moan about it every single time I sit here...but too bad! If I have to do, so do you...lets see...

Day 1:  diet coke....

1/2 pounds later...

Yep, just 1/2 pound. That's what I've lost from Monday through today. 5 days, 1/2 pound. I've skipped: pasta with garlic bread, homemade pizza, eggs with the yolks still attached, and several instances of Little Debbie snack cakes eaten by the men while watching t.v., sitting on the sofa.

And I made those (and more) sacrifices for what??!!! 1/2 pound.

This scale is going to be the freaking end of me, I swear.  I was told today that perhaps I need to go down to only 2 servings of starches per week. PER WEEK.   Alright, and maybe I should only breathe 4 of the 7 days this week as well...it's doable...

I've heard that the older you get, the harder the weight loss becomes...really? So this is easy compared to what I'll deal with in my 50's?  If the answer is "omg, yes", then I'm just going to lay my head on this desk and sob. 

I'm the girl who likes kickboxing, I can do pushups like a guy, I can crank out situps like crazy. I've never been a tiny, petite girl, but other than when I was in my "beached whale" stages of having kiddos, I've usually been in pretty good shape. So what the heck??  When I stood on that scale today, I actually felt a hatred...a personal, scratch your eyes out, say bad things about your Momma hatred for that scale. 

So...if you happen to drive past my neighborhood this weekend and see alot of smoke, don't be concerned, you will know I've finally put that scale in it's place...right on my backyard grill.

Heartbreakers and becoming bulletproof...

Don't you wish you could protect the kiddos from the rough stuff? I've always been one to cringe on their behalf, wishing I could take the bullet for them, but then sometimes jumping into the trajectory too late, and having to watch the offspring suffer one heartbreak or another. It blows.

Today the lesson learned is simply how to take the bullet.  It's one thing to have bad news and roll with it, another to let it completely destroy you.

Make no mistake, I am the Queen of "Being Destroyedland". I'm not proud of it, but I am prone to falling apart almost every time I step on the scale, for example, or when Baby Boy takes a marker to the walls. I try to keep my boys from seeing me lose it, but on occasion, I have to break out the margarita glass and put myself in time-out.

Oldest Boy had a heartbreaker today...didn't get a job he was going for, and man, he was so excited about it.  Now, it's not written in stone yet, but the results aren't looking too good.  I'm trying to get him to roll with it, understand that God's got the plan here, and know that good things are still coming.  It's hard though, and part of me wishes I could fix it...but part of me knows this is part of his becoming a man, learning to deal with the disappointment.

So, bust out the kevlar, Oldest Boy...we are going to get through the rough stuff here, and on the other side of it you will find you are becoming more bulletproof every day.

The dinner frenzy...

If you've ever caught me on the phone when it's time to get dinner on the table, then you can easily imagine what it must sound like to be in the middle of a tank of sharks, when a tasty tidbit gets dropped nearby in the water. It is mind-bogglingly loud and chaotic...

It is a half-off sale at Brighton, it is free mocha latte day at Starbucks, it is the last bottle of water, found by 25 people shipwrecked on an island at sea.

I kid you not. When 4 sons come barging into the kitchen at 6pm, you drop that food on some plates, and run...being sure to keep your fingers away from the teeth.

This evening I made almost 4 pounds of pork katsu (Japanese food? Yep! We love it!), and made a 5-cup pot of rice...5 cups of rice people, I had to force them to leave some for their dad. I actually have to make more rice, they ate ALL of it. 

If you ever see me looking wild eyed and frazzled in the evening, check the clock, and then check me to make sure I have all ten digits, please.

He's leaving me...

No, it's not what you think...although, hubby wouldn't be considered insane to leave this hot mess of a wife...what with her constant hang-ups about pants that refuse to zip up and calorie counting that would drive an actuary to an asylum...who wouldn't run screaming??

I was referring to Oldest Boy. Yes, again. Yes, I know, he's growing up, I need to get a grip...but man, it's so freaking hard. 

Oldest Boy and Pretty Princess (Baby Boy's name for O.B's girlfriend) went and picked out his tuxedo for their proms. (Notice the "s" there? You guessed it, they go to different schools, therefore renting the tux twice is on the agenda.)  I was invited to go, but I declined...I figured that she knew what she wanted him to wear, and isn't it time for him to learn to just wear whatever she puts in front of him anyway?

So, the missing out on the shopping for the tux isn't the weird part, it's the whole "the first time someone else is doing this shopping for him, instead of me"...that's what's got me.

I just keep seeing myself picking out his little outfits at Sears when he was small...it seems so surreal that he doesn't need that attention from me much anymore.

Ah well, at least the kid still needs my credit card to rent the tux...he hasn't completely ditched me yet...  :)

Mommy needs a time-out...

preferrably with her butt in a pedicure chair.  Face me towards the corner, it won't offend me, odds are I'll be sleeping in 2.5 minutes anyway.

Is it bad that I want to put "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" on, just so that I can lay down and snooze? (Also, is it bad that I still think Johnny Depp is a hottie, even with those weird teeth he wears in the movie?)

It's 1:30 pm, and you'd think I was out partying like a rock star last night...when actually I was in bed by 10.  When did I get to be so un-fun?  Middle Boy calls me the "fun sucker".  I still think I'm fun...I can be alot of fun, as long as it's only about 7 or 8 at night.  My husband thinks I'm fun...but he's three years older than I am...makes you think doesn't it?

I'd really LIKE to be more fun...maybe if I can just squeeze in a nap first...

Selfless

That's the word of the day here today:
self·less

Pronunciation: \ˈsel-fləs\, adjective

having no concern for self, selflessness being a noun.

You know you've seen people who embody this trait, and it's glaringly obvious when someone doesn't.  I'm struggling today with someone who doesn't.  I won't name names, he isn't anyone in my home, however he is someone who is important to me.

How can you say you love someone, and yet treat them like something left over on the buffet table, cold and congealed?  (Possibly dripping with ranch dressing...see previous post).  I have never understood being so mad or angry at someone you love that you would be willing to completely remove them from your life.  I mean, close the book, walk away, act like they don't exist. 

This has become the norm in the relationship between myself and this other person. I've cried, I've ranted, I've probably driven my poor husband insane over it...and yet, here I sit, angry about it again this morning.  What do you do when this person means so much to you?  How many times do you try to restart the relationship?  At what point do you just quit? (And if you do quit, then what? Mourn the death of the relationship?)

I want to send a graduation announcement for Oldest Boy to this person. O.B would love it if he actually got a response...but I'm doubtful and hesitant.  Do I write this person and tell him "You are burning bridges here, acknowledge these children,  get your head out of your butt..." ??  Would that make a difference?

How do you get through to someone who doesn't know how to be selfless?  Is it something they could learn? Would it be easier for me to lose these freaking 15 pounds in 10 days?? I'm beginning to believe it might be...

 

Once upon a time, at a nameless pizza place...

...there was a salad known as "Bacon Ranch!!"  Upon a quick review of the two salads available to this girl last night, I opted for "ranch" over "Italian"...I know, I was at a pizza place, get the Italian, but I AM Italian, I KNOW what good Italian dressing tastes like, and the bottled stuff ain't it. Not even close.

"Bacon Ranch!" consisted of a bagged salad mix (which I buy, not knocking that part), a jar of salad dressing (Wow, really? Is it supposed to drip off the leaves?), and two handfulls of artificially flavored soy bean things, that are supposed to look like bacon bits. I neither kid, nor exaggerate. That's what was for dinner. 

The Little Boy had pizza and breadsticks (lots of breadsticks), and orange soda. I think he might have sniffed and/or licked a lettuce leaf at some point, or maybe thought he would gain enough nutrients by simply gazing at the appealing bowl of salad across the room...I can't be sure...either way, I lose my "Mom of the Year" award yet again, for failing to put one single healthy thing in his mouth last night. 

Good thing I can try for the trophy again today...maybe I'll make him some salad...

Dinner with the kiddos

So, I'm taking the kids out for pizza this evening, it's a fundraiser for Little Boy's school.  You know that means that there will be 501,000 kids there, along with a slew of frazzled parents, with a noise level high enough to make your ears ring later.

Little Boy is excited, naturally, hoping to see lots of his friends...I love events like this...the kind where you can make eye contact over the little heads, nodding to the other moms in a silent "Are you as exhausted as I am?" way.  You know that look I'm referring to, it's universal, moms in China have that same look and nod.

There won't be a thing there that is remotely close to being something on my list of acceptible foods from my dietician.  I was so happy about losing that pound today, you KNOW it's going to sneak back into my waistline by 8pm.  I guess I'll pray to the salad gods that they have provided something somewhat healthy, although I'm not going to be the house on it.

I will, however, place a fairly large wager that my Little Boy is going to have a great time, and that's the whole point, isn't it?

Nadia Bloom

I came on here this morning, after just meeting with my accountant, with the intention of writing about tax crap. (Admit it, that's what it is.) I am fairly jubilant about not owing any money to IRS this year, Lord knows I've paid them frightening amounts of money in recent years.

Sitting here I realize how truly insignificant all that is, compared to what a family here in Central Florida is going through right at this moment...their daughter Nadia is 11 years old, and is a student at Freedom Ride, a place that provides therapy for mentally and physically disabled kids through horseback riding (I volunteer there). She has been described on the news as having a couple of different disabilities, I'm not sure exactly which is correct, but it's my understanding she is a highly functioning autistic young girl.

Nadia has been missing since Friday. She wandered into the woods by her house (they think) and has left no signs as to where she could be, or what could have happened.

I heard that her mother was so distraught that she prematurely delivered the baby she was carrying.  I simply cannot imagine how horrific this must be for her.

I'm praying for Nadia today, and for her family..."Dear Lord, please watch over Nadia as she continues to wander lost, keep her safe and calm, please watch over the volunteers that are searching for her and show them the way to her. Please comfort her family and friends, Lord Jesus, please allow them to feel your arms around them and your love.  Please bring Nadia home safely to her family. Amen."

If you are a praying person, would you please pray today too?

Too much to do...

Alright, well, my to-do list this morning is probably something similar to yours..it involves tasks ranging from the mundane (2-3 loads of laundry and a sinkful of dishes) to the mysterious (a note on my desk says "list college attending" and "note for Oldest Boy"), to the excruciating (an inbox full of receipts that need to be filed).

I have to go pick up prescription meds, buy more plastic hangers, return painters tape to Lowe's, and somewhere along the way decide what we are having for dinner...and defrost the meat that goes along with that menu.

I have an appointment here with my accountant tomorrow morning, need my office to be cleaned up for that (and xanax on a handy countertop to help with what he's sure to tell me), along with making sure bathrooms are clean, just in case he drank 2 cups of coffee on the way in, instead of 1.

I'm not a juggler. When God created me it's likely He did NOT say "I'll make her adept at handling several things at once."  He probably said "I should make her somewhat cute, so people will take pity on her and help her find her car when she loses it in parking lots."

I'm off to work on the list, should I lead off with the excruciating, or build up to it...perhaps I'll start with a little mystery first...

The dreaded weigh-in

Okay, so I know that when I say I need to lose 15 pounds, people roll their eyes and scoff.  It seems like a trivial amount to lose...skip a few margaritas and I'm there, right? Wrong-o.

15 pounds equals an entire closet of clothes that I cannot wear. Pants, jeans, shorts...you name it honey, and I can't zip it.  It equals the death of all the work I did last year...working out, not eating anything fun...because of the stupid meds I was on for 5 months.  All in vain, all for naught.  Dang.

Last night I was reduced to eating 3 egg whites for dinner, with a Weight Watcher popsicle for dessert. Unless you've been forced to eat straight egg whites before, you really can't know the joy of eating air, clouds, or cotton balls.  They are just THAT tasty and satisfying.

Why does this have to be so difficult? Why didn't the weight just fall back off when I stopped the meds?  Why can my darling husband eat chips and ice cream in bed every night and not gain an ounce? 

If anyone can provide these answers for me I'll be glad to whip up some dinner for you tonight..
.......you want hot sauce on your cotton balls?

Oldest boy

Oldest Boy brought home his graduation announcements yesterday...and I'm feeling pretty ____ about it. Insert your own word there, you can imagine how many are rolling around in my head right now.

I remember the day I told Hubby I was pregnant with him, we were both young (by today's standards, anyway), I was 22. Hubby wanted this child from the day we married 4 years prior. I wasn't ready at 18 to have a baby, but he was always ready to have a child of his own. Within 3 years I felt like I had enough wits about me to handle late night feedings, millions of diaper changes, facing the unknown (still wasn't completely prepared, but were you?).

The labor was long and difficult. *cue labor horror story* I went in to be induced on a Friday morning (Oldest Boy was 2 weeks late, I guess he liked the cushy digs), finally gave birth to him on Sunday morning. I was so freaking exhausted by then, after pushing for hours....I didn't have the strength to hold him for long. And seeing as how I hadn't eaten since Friday evening, really, I just needed some pancakes first.

The day we got home from the hospital with him, after my mother-in-law left and we were alone, Hubby and I both stood at the crib, looking at this tiny person and each other...it was a moment in my life I will never, ever forget.

Fast forward to the present. Recent arguments have caused me some significant heartache lately, Oldest Boy is learning to be a separate person from his mother, I guess. Of course I want him to be independent, self-sufficient, hard working, a good husband...all those things...but right now, in this moment, I just want to hold that tiny boy again.