5 Minutes of every 1440

This post is dedicated to my sister Catherine - because my life is only perfect 5 minutes at a time.

I have so much free time on my hands (insert sarcastic emoticon here), I decided to pick up yet another home decor project. 

That's right, a desk (complete with candy wrappers - kids.) 

If you come over to my house, you should come see this desk.  Up close, you will be able to tell that #2 helped me paint it, that I lost patience with it, that I haven't mastered the art of painting or spray painting, and that I didn't have the time to search for the perfect size drawer pulls.

But none of that matters.  The boys have been so excited to get this desk in their room.  Friday night, we finally took it upstairs.  The boys were so excited.  Let me tell you that one more time.  The boys were so excited.  They started filling the drawers with books, and crayons and pencils, and brainstormed over what to put in it next, and whose drawer was whose.  For about 5 minutes, I watched their enthusiastic musings and workings.  For about 5 minutes, life was perfect.  I mean perfect.  For those 5 minutes, all the troubles and worries of life were nonexistent.  I felt happy, life was fulfilling, perfect, and I was the luckiest girl on earth.  For 5 minutes.  Cue 5 minutes and 1 second.....#2 was crying because #1 had more books than he did, and life resumed its normal imperfect.....ness. 

To my sister Catherine:  This post reflects 5 minutes of 1440 minutes in every day.  And it isn't everyday that we get even those short 5 minutes.  But in those 5 minutes, I think life couldn't possibly get any better, I fall in love with my family all over again, and I'm inspired to find more moments like it.  Then, if I have enough time, I blog about it. 

Mi Familia

That's about all the Spanish I know.

I apologize if you've already seen this post on my other blog.

Ten years ago today, I was heading into work when I heard the news on the radio. I got to work (and though the idea was to keep working, to let terrorists know that we would not let them stop us - no one in the office was actually working) and sat there, close to tears. All I really wanted to do was to go home, get together with my family and feel safe.

Me with my older brother and sisters.

My heart goes out to those who lost loved ones and were truly devastated by these heinous acts of terrorism.

I am proud to be part of this great country, and relish the many freedoms that I have. No one will ever be able to take that away.

The Tank Is Full

Last night, I was furiously shopping the in-ter-net when I looked over my shoulder to see The Mr staring contentedly at his "smart" phone. 

"Are you reading the news again?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you put the laundry away.  I'm pretty sure that basket of clothes has been sitting there since the day I got back in town."

"No.  I put away all the laundry from that weekend."

"Yes you did.  Except for that last load that was chillaxin' in the dryer."

Silence.

More silence.

Even more silence.

Wait for it.................





"So, what have you been doing when the boys are in school?"  he asked innocently.

Guess my "filling-the-lazy-tank" days are officially over.  Now I'm grieving their loss.

Me Time!!

I mean, Back To School Time! It's this first week that I am completely selfish and don't care even the tiniest bit about my children's education. I just want to dance and laugh because finally, finally I have 3 hours all to myself (assuming #3 takes naps that long, which he has so far *fingers crossed*.) I know, I'm a horrible mother. You already knew that! Remember when #1 nominated me for Worst Mother of the Year Award (daily??) I won!

What am I going to do with my three hours? Blog, duh. Nap, duh. Eat junk food and watch bad television, duh. All summer I thought of all the furniture I was going to recover and refinish; all the projects that have been sitting in the basement since we've had children were going to be completed! Then school actually started and I had to refill my "lazy" tank (like a love tank, it was getting waaaaay too low, lol!) Maybe next week, right?

#1 on the First Day of School (half-day)

Walking to school on the official First Day of School (full-day)

#3 refuses to be left out of anything.  Honestly.

#1.  The Experienced Veteran 2nd Grader.

There was some confusion among the ranks.

More confusion.

Slightly less confusion.

You can just hear his sigh, right?

Finally!  He hates art projects.  And I forgot to crop the photo.

One for laughs.  I mean, how could I not post this one?? #cropfail2

Stay tuned for my next blog post...........in another three months.

The Best Laid Plans of Mice and Men

Blake walked into the kitchen this morning and exclaimed, "The Mouse is dead!!"

Me: "What Mouse?!?"

Blake: "The Mouse in the computer!" (mime pushing a mouse around here.)

Maxwell: "Why is there a mouse in the computer??"

Don't judge me for hating mayonnaise

If you are looking for humor, this post might not be for you. That was a warning. Stop reading now if you have even the slightest doubt. Curiosity killed the cat.

Was that warning enough?

You're still reading, huh? Welcome to my opinion. (Feel free to stop reading here.)

Why hasn't anyone come up with an emoticon for sarcasm? A really good half-smirk, half-smile, eye roll that no one could possibly misinterpret?? Maybe it could look like this: %9 or this %? How about this @? Maybe this one @5

Don't people realize how important first, last and every-minute-of-your-life impressions are? When you type something into the twitter universe, you've just lost your personality, your voice, your tone, your body language (if in person,) - all those important and often necessary ingredients one needs to bake a cake, oops, I mean, communicate with one another. Especially if you tend to use sarcasm.

Case in point: Tweeter (who blogs for money): "Why do parents let their Kindergartners go to school with shorts and no coat when it is 40 outside?? Kids need to be told how to dress"

Her opinion may cause you to think one of two things:

1. Why, yes, they do.

or

2. Well, aren't you the perfect person who apparently has passed on those same genetic mutations (was that humor??) to their perfect children.

Gee, I bet you can't guess which thought I had......

There is a difference between telling a kid what to do, and a kid doing what he is told. Tell me you haven’t experienced that before. Better yet, why don’t you tell me about your perfect parenting and your perfect children who always do as you say – maybe I could learn something from you.

Another Tweeter's (she also blogs for money) response to the first: "You're assuming the parents have a brain....:)"

I guess you’d better tell me where I can get a brain. (and what person insults parents while smiling? Just sayin’.”

Short story from several weeks ago: My oldest insisted that he wasn’t going to need his jacket – he didn’t want it, he wasn’t going to wear it. In my infinite wisdom %? I decided that he could learn a valuable lesson if I let him go to school without the jacket (read: I was terribly irritated and tired of fighting a six-year old and I wanted him to be cold so that I could say, “Ha! I told you so!” just like the mature parent I aspire to be.) In the end, the only life lesson he learned, and I quote (in case you missed the quotation marks %?): "I hate the cold!" %?

All sarcasm (%?) aside, he never argues with me about taking a jacket anymore – even if he stuffs it into his backpack. Maybe the lesson he learned was when Mom says it’s going to be cold, interpret it as “Better safe than sorry.” In that ideal and perfect world where kids do as you say, the lesson he would’ve learned was “always listen to Mom – she knows everything!” Where’s my parenting manual??

p.s. maybe %? should be an emoticon for a parent without a brain? No?

New Adventures in Blogging....

While I only blog once every few months, I appreciate all of my devoted readers to this particular one ;)

I've always wanted to have a career in fashion. I haven't lost that dream. I have, however, been sidetracked.

Until now.

Join my latest blog - Pretty, Polished, Perfect. Join it whether you plan to come back or not. Find it on facebook, and if you like it, like it. If you love it, like it. If you hate it, like it. If you don't care, like it (I am down on my knees begging for you to like it.......) Tell everyone you know ;)

What did YOU do today?

As a mother, I do not have the privelege of participating in my annual reviews, I do not receive salary raises, or bonuses, or certificates of achievement, or even a "good job" from the boss - or anyone else in the office, for that matter. When The Mr. recieves a salary raise, or a Christmas bonus, or a play-off bonus, or a compliment at work, he doesn't rush home, pat me on the back, and say, "Well done, woman. Here is your share of my raise, because everyone knows that behind every good man is an even better woman. Let's get a babysitter and go out to eat so you don't have to cook and clean tonight. In fact, why don't you take part of my bonus and buy those sexy Laboutin pumps you've been wanting to buy." Nope. Nada. Never even going to happen (although hopefully the Mr. got that little hint back there......)


For those reasons alone, I feel it is perfectly appropriate to pat myself on the back (which is actually my polite yet smug way of saying I FEEL LIKE BRAGGING, BECAUSE I CAN.) What did you make your children for their after-school snack?? 'Cause this is what I made for mine:









Beat that, suckaz!

I have the artistic talent of a fly.

When school first started, I could not think of a single thing to send in Blake's lunch, except Lunchables (ew, gross!) I searched blogs and websites and cookbooks and the library; I stumbled upon genius: Bentos (for definitions, or better yet, pictures, go here, here and here - this last one seems the most authentic, culturally speaking.)

Unfortunately, I lack the artistic abilities that come naturally to some people - like my sister-in-law Emily, who is so artistic that everything she touches turns to gold......except, of course, for the food she eats, and the people she loves, but you get my point, right? So this is the best that I could come up with (I think I got better with each one?)

I first bought the cheap plastic divided containers, but found that it was too much space - Blake never finished even half of it, and it just didn't look as pretty if every square centimeter wasn't full of food! I was checking out Pottery Barn Kids (my favorite kids store, evah!) and found their Spencer Storage Containers at 75% off! I was in Bento heaven! I also found that Blake was very into packing his own lunch, now that I had these fun, colorful containers, and creative ways to serve him his food (I really like the cupcake pan idea, I just can't imagine any child NOT eating their lunch when served that way!) I also thought a bit more outside the box, no pun intended, when it came to his menu choices - he HATES sandwiches (seriously, the day I sent olives and cute little pb&j cutouts, he ONLY ate the olives (which, aside from carrots, is the only vegetable I can get him to eat.....oh, wait, don't tell me. Olives are actually fruits.) Apparently, my disguise wasn't creative enough.)

Now I just need to work up the motivation to make three sets every night, and let my other two sons eat their "school lunch bentos"!

Donuts.

snow day noun \‘sno-, ‘da\ : a day reserved for sleeping in and accomplishing absolutely nothing. snow days (pl)

Examples of SNOW DAY:

Snow days are boring; I decided to take my sons to experience their first “donut.”

Snow days are to mothers as overtime is to employees.

I dislike snow days.

Origin of SNOW DAY:

Middle English, from Old English too lazy to shovel (akin to procrastination, excuses, aversion.)

First Known Use:

20th century, shortly after the release of the first color television.

Point Of Interest:

“Donuts” in mini-vans are LAAAAMMMMMEEE!