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.