Sisters, Sisters (oomph)

It's obviously been awhile, but this morning I found my mind contemplating all the things I needed to keep track of this week. 

The movie reel looks a little something like this:

Parent-teacher conferences are coming up, I hope No. 2 actually turns in the date and time to his teacher today.  I am really shocked that he didn't remember this, he is so good about remembering, staying on task and really - demanding that I do things right. now.  I wonder when I will get a date and time for No. 3.........I was out of town for the last parent-teacher conferences........where was I?  Oh that's right.  I took the boys to Utah to visit Aunt Aurelia.  I haven't really spoken to her since.  {epiphany} I have been distancing myself from my sisters!  {shock}  Why have I been doing that? I think it's because we are too close, and we take each other for granted, especially when we are so wrapped up in our own problems.  Except for that one time.  I'm so grateful that I had someone to call who understood.  She even cried with me.  She understood in a way that The Mr couldn't, that even my Father asked, "I thought you didn't even like her?"  She had listened to me over the years, as I went from despising my mother-in-law, to resentfully allowing her into my children's lives, right up to the moment my resentments turned to begrudging gratitude for the amazing presence she had become in my own life and the lives of my sons.  She knew just how broken my heart was, and she wept for us.  It is that moment, no matter how sad it was, that I will always remember and cherish this sister for:

This was taken at Virginia Beach, a day trip that we fought traffic for.  It was worth it though - the kids had so much fun, the adults had so much fun, and I will never forget the amazing mac 'n' cheese we had on the boardwalk when the sun went down......

p.s. No 2 forgot to take the note, darnit!

A Few Thoughts (or No-No's.)

Tonight I found myself sitting on a bench, completely alone (let's pretend there weren't random strangers milling about) and I had some amazingly profound thoughts.  Thoughts that were so important I had to record them somewhere.  Twitter is only 140 characters.  I despise facebook (see how I refuse to capitalize it - it's like a grammatical insult!)  So blogger wins this round.

Back to those thoughts:

Never, Never, NEVER give a limp-handed shake.  Politely refusing to shake hands at all is more respectable than the limp noodle. 

Never swear in public.  I personally think you shouldn't swear in private either, but at least don't do it in public.  Other things you shouldn't do in public: pick your nose, mess with your wedgie, snort back your excess drainage/mucous (you know what I'm talking about - everybody does it,) or breastfeed (oh, I bet I just ruffled some feathers with that one, didn't I? Mwahahahaha.)

Never, ever, ever give generalized, judgemental advice like: don't breastfeed in public.

Don't slouch.  It's unflattering.

And please, please don't call someone at the very end of the day with bad news.  Unless it's really a life or death situation.  I mean that (*cough*Catherine*cough*)

Always spellchek. I mean thatt.

and.....

I love chocolate.

Profound stuff happening here.  I call it "mom-of-three-children-primary-president-wife-mower-of-the-lawn-blogger-aging-woman" brain. 

p.s. you might need a mop to clean up this dripping-with-sarcasm mess.

Staycations, Product Placement & ZTP

Yesterday was gorgeous. I took my son to the park.

And worked on my photography skills while he played with......rocks.

I took a mid-afternoon stay-cation on the back porch (sans kids.)

I bathed in the sun.

I set up this shot for an upcoming curating job with Diet Coke + Instagram (for that other blog.)

(Yes, that was blatant bragging, product placement and general "come see my other blog" goodness all wrapped up in one sentence; man I'm good.)

I made the boys walk home from school.

Then we had a late-afternoon stay-cation. 

With lots of sugary goodness.

I can explain why my son is wearing his Lego Batman pajama pants.  Sort of.  He came home, went straight to his room and walked out wearing them.  When questioned about his bizarre behavior, he exclaimed, "Because I don't want to waste my BLUE pants!!"  I have no idea what he means, but that is why he's wearing his pj pants. 

Of course, the staycation started out with us sunbathing and reading/coloring books.  The call of the trampoline and swing set became too much and we moved to the yard.  In true ZTP fashion, I started picking weeds.  And cursing my husband's name.  I even took photographic evidence of my handi-work to show him later.

I know.  The box doesn't look that big.  But before if became home to these weeds, it shipped a pair of women's knee high boots......that weren't folded in half.  My point being, that if you stuck both of your calves into a box and padded it with a few inches on every side, you'd get how big this box is.  I hope. 

Don't Be A Menace To South Central While Drinking Your Juice In The Hood

And by juice I mean candy.  And by Hood I mean the kitchen.  I'm not going to name names, and I am fully aware that you shouldn't cry over spilt milk, but guess what? My son managed to knock my brand-spanking-new-uber-expensive-100%-pure-vanilla extract out of the kitchen cabinet.  Apparently the Achilles Heel of this brand-spanking-new-uber-expensive-100%-pure-vanilla extract was in the lid.  Right where the lid crashed into the ceramic stove top.  Before the bottle bled out on my kitchen floor, it spewed forth it's brand-spanking-new-uber-expensive, but truly delightful smelling goodness all over our cornea-blinding white ceiling, stools, table, and other crevices I have yet to find. 

Now I know you are thinking this is when I lovingly told my crying child that there is no point in crying over spilt milk, and I hugged him and let him know how much I (still) love him, right?  In my head, that all happened - in the five seconds it took me to take in the blood bath.

Cue reality tv filming crew:

Stomp, NO! Stomp, NO! Stomp, NO! Stomp, No!  Yes, just like a small child, I repeatedly stomped my foot (the same one) and shook my head as I muttered no, also on repeat. 

I excused my son from the kitchen. 

I could just hear the vanilla extract squealing with glee at its' new found freedom........to stain my stuff.  I wiped off the stools first.  They were the most expensive.  The ceiling came next.  Guess what?  My ceiling and those 25 or so drops of vanilla extract have gotten married.  And had babies.  The floor got it next.  I'm still finding yummy drops of goodness.  It's like a game of hide and seek.  I just hope the linoleum holds up long enough for me to find them.

Brand-spanking-new-uber-expensive-100%-pure-vanilla extract: $20

Ceiling Paint: $10

Seeing their mother throw a temper tantrum: Priceless

And this is why I've applied for the next greatest Reality TV show.  So that all these fallacies can be permanently documented. 

(Just kidding.  I didn't really apply.) 

And this is why you shouldn't be a menace to south central while drinking your juice in my hood.

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!

What am I grateful for?

My boys. Two fun quotes from this past holiday:

"I need to grow more eyebrows." This is what Maxwell whispered to me as he sat on my lap watching, wait for it................Tangled. The only thing that could have made it better? If he had said that when "Eugene" was doing the Smolder.

"I LOVE this! This museum is AWEsome!" Courtesy of Blake, while riding the flight simulator at the Air and Space Museum. (Yes, my worst nightmare is that my children will hate museums.)


That's it folks.

I usually have the patience of a turtle.....

Actually, if you know me well enough, that statement might make you laugh. Indeed, I have what I refer to as a Zero Tolerance Policy, or ZTP. That's right. I allow for Zero, zip, nada, when it comes to time-wasting. You do NOT waste my time. Or your time. And you do NOT cut me off in traffic. Ok, so nothing will actually happen if you cut me off, but watch out if you're wasting my time. Things might get ug-uh-lee. Why am I bringing up my ZTP this morning, you ask?

I got a pretty good laugh this morning at, wait for it..............the school drop-off. If you've ever seen a status update on Facebook around 8:30am or 3:40pm, you probably think laughter at, near, or around these times is highly improbable. I HATE dropping off the kids, and I REALLY HATE picking them up after school. I am usually irate because someone (usually more than just one person, I might add,) has stopped their vehicle, gotten out and then proceeded to chat with friends and neighbors. All while their vehicle is blocking traffic - not even kidding. While I enjoy socializing (believe me, I don't think that is a waste of time,) I think that right after school when 300 other parents are also trying to pick up their 2.1 children, might not be the right time to be doing it. Anyway, that is the past, and I have started to accept the things that I cannot change (AH.HA.HA.HA.) This is how I found this morning's scenario so entertaining. Several people that I either know, or have seen around a lot, because, hey (and yes, totally stuck in the 80s dad who I see EVERY MORNING with your hair the exact same, in your same bright yellow jacket and your single diamond earring, I am speaking of you) you can't NOT develop some kind of relationship with these people you see every day, when I look like I just got out of bed because.... guess what? I just got out of bed. Anyway, back to the scenario. I turn the corner of my street, only to catch a woman I obviously don't know well, taking a corner at a speed sure to wear exactly 1.2 inches off her tire tread. Now this woman, or so I thought, has always seemed very um, I can't think of the word, but I have never seen this woman raise her voice, have never seen her laugh uncontrollably, or jump up and down with excitement, and I have never, NEVER seen her be late. So imagine my surprise when I look at the clock and realize that she is in fact probably driving her child to school (she almost ALWAYS walks) because the bell is going to ring in exactly two minutes. I guess she isn't as demure as I thought she was. As I approach the school, there is a LOT of traffic. Well, more than the usual "late" crowd anyway - which yes, I am the PRESIDENT of! I recognize another Mom whom I occasionally socialize with and sometimes, if I'm in really top-form - I beat at the games we play (that's right - I saw you this morning - dropping her off late, mwahahaha,) mostly because she tried (ok, she succeeded) to pull a left-hand turn that almost, almost cut someone off. I continued to watch (while still obeying the "rules" of morning drop-off) as more cars flowed in, and yes, this included the 80s guy, who pulled past us and then tried to cross the street, while a white mini-van tried to pass all of us, doing about 90mph, while the "rule-followers" tried to pull back out of line so that we, the rest of the "rule-followers" could pull up and drop our kids off - anyone remember cutting in line as children? Well, guess what? It continues into adulthood. Who knew? So while the blue explorer and the white mini-van duke it out over who is going to give whom the right-of-way, and the 80s dude is trying to not get run over by either one of them, the second Mom I know flips on her blinker and coolly slides into the front spot. Okay, so it didn't look cool, it looked a bit more frantic. I suppose it didn't surprise me to see that Mom number 2 is as equally ruthless and competitive at the drop-off thing as she is when playing board games. Now cue the background noise during this whole 30 second debacle: "Let's drive safely, now. Safe *BRING* driving,*BRING* everyone. Let's drive safely." - courtesy of Mr. Simpson (the gym teacher), who was apparently watching the same thing I was. Now why was I laughing? Because for the first time this year, I was NOT the bad driver. I was NOT going to be the parent who got in an accident or ran someone over. So thank you, Mom numbers 1 & 2, 80s dude, white mini-van and ford explorer for making me not feel so bad about my past driving :)

To Aurelia, on her birthday.

When the first person dies, you should remarry....and other deep thoughts.

My six year old son has been pondering life lately. Today, he has shared a great many concerns he has about life. As I was washing the dishes (and he was cleaning out the bowl from making blueberry muffins,) he said, "Grandpa needs to marry someone." "Oh," I asked, "and why is that?" "Because the first person is dead," is his simple answer. While it came as a bit of a shock to hear my mother referred to as "the first person," several other thoughts went through my head......"is the dishwasher full enough to start?" "why can't my seventeen year old brother figure out what my six year old son has already figured out?" "I hope they have mandatory all day kindergarten by the time Maxwell goes to school next year." "I wonder if Project Runway will make me want to vomit again, like last time." "I should have Blake call Grandpa and share his bit o' wisdom." "Is it time for bed yet?"




I digress.


He then shared with me the high standards he holds his Uncle Morgan to. How he is going to be just like Uncle Morgan, who is going to go to college, then get married and then maybe even have kids (does anyone else see anything vital missing from that equation? hmmmm?) Did I mention that Blake thinks Uncle Morgan is smarter than me? That Uncle Morgan knows everything? Gosh, I hope Uncle Morgan doesn't disappoint Blake.....or any of us for that matter :)


In his quest to share his knowledge, the next topic he wishes to discuss is, "There was a kid who brought a donut for lunch and he made such a big mess that he had to sit at the Manners Table." Now I have to stop here, because I need to lend you a little insight as to my frame of mind at the time. I had reluctantly put down the third and final book in the Hunger Games series to do the dishes. When Blake insists that he isn't allowed to bring donuts for lunch, I reply, "Yes, you can." He immediately and somewhat haughtily retorts, "NO! I can't!" "Yes, you can! I am your mother, I said you could take a donut with your lunch! I am your mother!" comes my equally rebellious response. Now that I know there is a manners table, alarms start going off in my head. What? The Capitol can't do that! You're only first graders! Who came up with that? President Coin? We live in the United States, the land of freedom...........Blake claims that whoever has to sit at the Manners Table has to sit there and is no longer allowed to eat. Curse you, President Snow!

I think I should go finish that book, which will hopefully put my mind at ease. I wouldn't want my child to think I am some kind of anarchist, haha!

A boy and a girl.

First,

Next,

Then,

Now,

Happy Anniversary, Darling!

Where my Huggies Deals at??

I was at Hy-vee (135th & Brougham in Olathe) this morning and saw these Huggies Wipes:

Just last night, I had purchased 720ct wipes from Sams – for $14.44! What a rip off! Anyway, I checked my coupon stash – I had these four coupons:

$2.50/3 Huggies Wipes 64ct or higher (printable)
Hy-vee in-ad coupon $5/25 total baby purchase (page 13 of the weekly circular, in store)
Two .50/1 Huggies Wipes coupons (64 ct. or larger) (can’t remember which insert, or from which date, sorry.)

Here is my breakdown of cost per wipe:

Without any coupons: $.0130

With only $5 coupon: $.0104

With $5 coupon and $2.50 coupon: $.0091

With $5 coupon and 2 @2.50 coupons (if allowable): $.0087

With $5 coupon, $2.50 and 2 $.50 coupons: $.0085

Sam’s club price: $.0201

Walgreen’s Deal from early this week : $.00986 (now dead)

Please note that the lady ringing this up made sure she scanned the Hy-vee coupon last, and even though the other coupons had brought down the total from $25, it still accepted it. Even if you can't find the in-store ad coupon, this particular Hy-vee always has the coupons at each register and will scan their coupon for you!

Woo-hoo!