Once upon a time there was a semi-stylish 26yr old who worked in the city among skyscrapers and subways. She drank lattes, smoked Marlboro Lights and owned a key fob to her office. After socializing/working with adults all day she would often meet up with friends and/or colleagues for several drinks at a trendy downtown bar. Male friends would often buy drinks for her--on their own accord. One day, she couldn't help noticing how cute and fit one of her coworkers was, and wondered whether she could seduce him.
She could. And she did.
She was so amazing, that he decided to stick around and sealed the deal with the conception of 3 children. The children were so magical and cute that the once semi-stylish woman traded in her knee high boots and mini skirts for jeans larger than she had ever worn, old t-shirts/ cozy worn sweaters and comfy socks. She apparently lost her hairbrush in the deal, but replaced that with a coffee pot. Giving up the smokes for everyone's sake, she began collecting full wine bottles--a never ending project.
As the kids multiplied and grew older, her skin began to stretch down towards its home, "Mother Earth" and she found new and creative ways to lift it up or tuck it deep down in her newly formed waistline. Her work day started at different times each day---sometimes 4am, sometimes 2am, but most days 5:30-6:30.
As she gleefully falls down the stairs in a half sleep she blindly smiles as she slaps PB and J on one sandwich and nothing with anything nut-related on the other two sandwiches.
As the eggs start to dry out on the stove she lovingly shouts upstairs (going against everything she has told her children not to do) "COME EAT BEFORE IT GETS COLD!!!!"
Shouting wakes her up and she realizes that she is standing in the kitchen working with knives and an open flame. Averting disaster, she puts all hazzards down and makes a cup of coffee.
She can hear the songs of praise coming from the other room, "Eggs?! I didn't want eggs!" And as the little angels eat, she runs (yes runs because now she only has 3 mins to shower) skipping 2 stairs at a time, to get ready. She turns on the shower and glances at her phone. Determined to make some forward progress she plays Candy Crush, alone in the steamy bathroom, on the toilet.
It is not long before the angels are banging on the door to brush their teeth. Shower is turned off, and she emerges miraculously dry and in the same clothes.
Setting a personal goal to race the children's teeth brushing with the ability to get dressed and be at the door, car keys in hand, she frantically scours the room for something that fits.
As everybody gathers at the finish line, heading out the door to embrace another amazing day, she hears one of the angels say, "I hate school."
And knows, looking around the house at the dishes, dust and laundry awaiting her return, its gonna be a great day.
Monday, September 30, 2013
Friday, September 27, 2013
Never a dull moment...
I wanted to fill you in on the latest "proud parent" moment...
I went to school to pick up our youngest, and third child on the path to matriculation at the International Peace School. And when I arrived, one of the teachers kindly escorted me into the private quarters of the office and shared the following story.
"So...your son and I were talking privately about owies and boo-boos and showing our different scrapes and scars on our legs. And he said that he was really tough and didn't cry once! And I said, that I did cry when I got this owie on my leg from falling off my bike, and that I even said some inappropriate words...and then he said, 'like f*ck?'
Day done. Pouring wine.
I went to school to pick up our youngest, and third child on the path to matriculation at the International Peace School. And when I arrived, one of the teachers kindly escorted me into the private quarters of the office and shared the following story.
"So...your son and I were talking privately about owies and boo-boos and showing our different scrapes and scars on our legs. And he said that he was really tough and didn't cry once! And I said, that I did cry when I got this owie on my leg from falling off my bike, and that I even said some inappropriate words...and then he said, 'like f*ck?'
Day done. Pouring wine.
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
potatoe/potato
Our 6 yr old's friend's family is spending the year in Abu Dhabi. This has come up often when he has asked where is "Jonah?" Today while driving to school, he pointed to a store, and said,"that's where Jonah is." I said, "No sweetie...he's in Abu Dhabi." To which he replied, "Oh, I thought you said, Hobby Lobby."
Then after pausing for a minute, continued, "That makes more sense, because a year would be a really long time to be in Hobby Lobby."
"Yes. Yes it would."
Then after pausing for a minute, continued, "That makes more sense, because a year would be a really long time to be in Hobby Lobby."
"Yes. Yes it would."
Wednesday, September 18, 2013
This is you
While shuttling the troops to gymnastics, I found a "crank it up loud" worthy song on the radio and indulged. When the song ended, our children were crying.
"What happened?"
The 6 yr old piped up first through his tears, "She's being so mean to m--"
"NO I'M NOT!"
"Woa." I interjected. It was my subtle way of saying "Stop f'ing yelling!!!!"
"BUT I'M NOT!"
Another "Woa." This time it stretched a little like such, "Wooooooaaaaaaa."
"MOM!"
"Seriously. Please stop yelling." The need to clarify had become apparent.
"He started it by taking a cookie and saying, "This is---"
"No, I did not start it. You did."
"That is a lie!"
Can I get a "Woa!"
With a little staccato emphasis this time.
"Until you guys can stop crying and yelling and using strong words that will upset each other like 'liar' 'lying' etc., We can't sort this out. Here," I said passing back a broken piece off the interior of the car, "it's a Peace Part."
Side note---when our third child earns his "Peace Rose" from school we will keep it in the car. One upstairs, one downstairs, and one mobile unit. There will be f'ing peace all over this goddamn family.
And thus, the Peace Talks began...
"Jackson, you started making me upset by putting the animal crackers in his mouth and biting their heads and saying 'this is you.'"
A small hand stretches across the car to reach for the part.
"I'm not finished. And, I started to do it back to you to see how it made you feel. And then you kept doing it. So I kept doing it. But then you said, 'okay no more' but I didn't get to go one last time."
The hand extends out.
"I'm still not finished. And why did you not let me play Skylanders when we were at home, and you said I could be Cynder?"
The part is passed.
"First of all," began our 6 yr old, "wait Mom, did you just go through a red light?!"
"No, it was yellow when I entered the intersection, so it's okay."
"Oh. I just thought maybe you went through a red light."
"Jackson!" Our daughter cried out, "You are supposed to talk to me."
"You are not allowed to talk unless you are holding the rose," he corrected.
"It's NOT a rose," she said correcting the correction.
"Whatever. So, first of all, you were the first person to eat the cookie and say, "this is you."
"No. I wasn't!"
"You are not allowed to talk right now!"
I moderated a tad here..."Let's use quiet voices as we talk this out, please. And please wait until you are holding the rose."
"It's NOT a rose," they said in unison, finally agreeing on something.
"You know what I mean. We are almost to gymnastics, you guys might want to solve this."
He continued, "All I know is that you ate the head off the cookie first, and I wanted to do it one more time so it was fair."
The part was passed.
"I did not eat it first, you did, and I am just really sad by all the lying that happens in the world. It happens a lot at school. And I am not a liar. I speak truths. And I wish that people would just be kind and respect each other and stop making things up to hurt people's feelings. It would make every day so much better. But, I will always speak the truth."
Can I get an "Amen?"
"Yea, I like the truth too. And you can be Cynder when we get home."
The car came to a stop. "We're here! Hop out!"
"And then maybe we can play animals after Skylanders?" added our daughter.
"Yea, or even before if you want."
As they walked into gymnastics, like the car ride never even took place, I thought that perhaps the next UN meeting or gathering of Congress might have a chance if we just passed out animal crackers and started with looking over at Syria and maybe, while taking a bite saying, "This is you!"
"What happened?"
The 6 yr old piped up first through his tears, "She's being so mean to m--"
"NO I'M NOT!"
"Woa." I interjected. It was my subtle way of saying "Stop f'ing yelling!!!!"
"BUT I'M NOT!"
Another "Woa." This time it stretched a little like such, "Wooooooaaaaaaa."
"MOM!"
"Seriously. Please stop yelling." The need to clarify had become apparent.
"He started it by taking a cookie and saying, "This is---"
"No, I did not start it. You did."
"That is a lie!"
Can I get a "Woa!"
With a little staccato emphasis this time.
"Until you guys can stop crying and yelling and using strong words that will upset each other like 'liar' 'lying' etc., We can't sort this out. Here," I said passing back a broken piece off the interior of the car, "it's a Peace Part."
Side note---when our third child earns his "Peace Rose" from school we will keep it in the car. One upstairs, one downstairs, and one mobile unit. There will be f'ing peace all over this goddamn family.
And thus, the Peace Talks began...
"Jackson, you started making me upset by putting the animal crackers in his mouth and biting their heads and saying 'this is you.'"
A small hand stretches across the car to reach for the part.
"I'm not finished. And, I started to do it back to you to see how it made you feel. And then you kept doing it. So I kept doing it. But then you said, 'okay no more' but I didn't get to go one last time."
The hand extends out.
"I'm still not finished. And why did you not let me play Skylanders when we were at home, and you said I could be Cynder?"
The part is passed.
"First of all," began our 6 yr old, "wait Mom, did you just go through a red light?!"
"No, it was yellow when I entered the intersection, so it's okay."
"Oh. I just thought maybe you went through a red light."
"Jackson!" Our daughter cried out, "You are supposed to talk to me."
"You are not allowed to talk unless you are holding the rose," he corrected.
"It's NOT a rose," she said correcting the correction.
"Whatever. So, first of all, you were the first person to eat the cookie and say, "this is you."
"No. I wasn't!"
"You are not allowed to talk right now!"
I moderated a tad here..."Let's use quiet voices as we talk this out, please. And please wait until you are holding the rose."
"It's NOT a rose," they said in unison, finally agreeing on something.
"You know what I mean. We are almost to gymnastics, you guys might want to solve this."
He continued, "All I know is that you ate the head off the cookie first, and I wanted to do it one more time so it was fair."
The part was passed.
"I did not eat it first, you did, and I am just really sad by all the lying that happens in the world. It happens a lot at school. And I am not a liar. I speak truths. And I wish that people would just be kind and respect each other and stop making things up to hurt people's feelings. It would make every day so much better. But, I will always speak the truth."
Can I get an "Amen?"
"Yea, I like the truth too. And you can be Cynder when we get home."
The car came to a stop. "We're here! Hop out!"
"And then maybe we can play animals after Skylanders?" added our daughter.
"Yea, or even before if you want."
As they walked into gymnastics, like the car ride never even took place, I thought that perhaps the next UN meeting or gathering of Congress might have a chance if we just passed out animal crackers and started with looking over at Syria and maybe, while taking a bite saying, "This is you!"
Monday, September 16, 2013
Bad Mommy
So Friday night was our friend's 40th. It was a wonderful party, full of fabulous people, and the never ending glass of wine. It was like magic. I would drink, toast, sip, but it would always be full. Amazing. And since I had a "driver" on this particular night which is very rare, I continued to indulge in the magical, bottomless wine goblet.
As the night wound down (or up, depending if you stayed later than I did) I arrived home fumbling with door keys at 11:30pm. And has I tried to put my car key in the house door, I silently prayed that the streamers had already been hung up, the cake had been assembled and frosted, balloons blown up, and all the presents had arrived and been wrapped---for tomorrow our "baby" was 6.
Well, not really being a religious individual, it was painfully obvious that my prayers were to go unanswered.
As the entryway circled around me, I visually made out not one single streamer. And as the door jam supported my passage into the kitchen, I also saw that there was nary an assembled cake.
I grabbed the Gorilla Tape and stretched a long piece (sticky-side up) across the counter top and frantically ripped strips of streamers to create a "birthday curtain" for the bottom of the stairs. Sticking it to the ceiling, I heard your groggy voice from the couch, "Stop using that tape. It takes the finish off, and it's expensive."
"Okay," I said louder than I needed to pressing the tape on firmly and then accidentally and confidently skipping a stair down to the floor and with as much regard for your comment as a teenager said, "I won't do it again." (Let me apologize in advance, for our daughter's teen years).
I then stood in the dark kitchen with a headlamp and began to assemble a two-tiered rainbow battered, out-of-my-league even if there as light and I was sober, cake. It was to be a magic portal for the new Skylander Giant that was supposed to be here. But nothing was here. The floods had triumphed over UPS and now a little six-year old would not only not have his presents, but he would especially not have the only thing that could save this cake.
As the cake crumbled into pieces, I slapped on gross amounts of icing to act as superglue in this giant mystical rainbow mound of sugar. I then stuck brownie bites all around the side. Surely, brownie bites had to be worth some points.
I stuck the cake in the microwave, for safe-keeping, strung up balloons, and went to bed, feeling like the worst mom on the planet. Fortunately he would have a gift from his great aunt, and some cards to open, and hopefully UPS would be there in the morning.
7am came really early. And as I longed to sleep in or vomit, I just lay there berating myself for poor decisions.We did our best to stall until 8:30, crossing our fingers that UPS would save the day. But they would not save the day, because they would now not deliver until Monday. And we couldn't pick up the package either.
Our six year old, bounded down the stairs, blew through the streamers, and said, "One present?" And before we could explain and apologize, said, "Well, that's okay. It looks pretty cool. Oh! and there are cards!"
It was all I could do to act like this was an awesome party. It was so beneath my expectations, and plans, and yet...he was genuinely happy! He had to be the healthiest member of our family at this point---he honestly projected his surprise and disappointment, and then overcame it quickly and had a blast. I had to wonder if he was just a "lesson" to behold at that point, or if he had been let down so many times, that like and orphan child with no shoes, he was just happy it was warm outside.
So that I didn't cry in all my hung-overness, I chose to believe the former. And stood in awe of his character.
As the night wound down (or up, depending if you stayed later than I did) I arrived home fumbling with door keys at 11:30pm. And has I tried to put my car key in the house door, I silently prayed that the streamers had already been hung up, the cake had been assembled and frosted, balloons blown up, and all the presents had arrived and been wrapped---for tomorrow our "baby" was 6.
Well, not really being a religious individual, it was painfully obvious that my prayers were to go unanswered.
As the entryway circled around me, I visually made out not one single streamer. And as the door jam supported my passage into the kitchen, I also saw that there was nary an assembled cake.
I grabbed the Gorilla Tape and stretched a long piece (sticky-side up) across the counter top and frantically ripped strips of streamers to create a "birthday curtain" for the bottom of the stairs. Sticking it to the ceiling, I heard your groggy voice from the couch, "Stop using that tape. It takes the finish off, and it's expensive."
"Okay," I said louder than I needed to pressing the tape on firmly and then accidentally and confidently skipping a stair down to the floor and with as much regard for your comment as a teenager said, "I won't do it again." (Let me apologize in advance, for our daughter's teen years).
I then stood in the dark kitchen with a headlamp and began to assemble a two-tiered rainbow battered, out-of-my-league even if there as light and I was sober, cake. It was to be a magic portal for the new Skylander Giant that was supposed to be here. But nothing was here. The floods had triumphed over UPS and now a little six-year old would not only not have his presents, but he would especially not have the only thing that could save this cake.
As the cake crumbled into pieces, I slapped on gross amounts of icing to act as superglue in this giant mystical rainbow mound of sugar. I then stuck brownie bites all around the side. Surely, brownie bites had to be worth some points.
I stuck the cake in the microwave, for safe-keeping, strung up balloons, and went to bed, feeling like the worst mom on the planet. Fortunately he would have a gift from his great aunt, and some cards to open, and hopefully UPS would be there in the morning.
7am came really early. And as I longed to sleep in or vomit, I just lay there berating myself for poor decisions.We did our best to stall until 8:30, crossing our fingers that UPS would save the day. But they would not save the day, because they would now not deliver until Monday. And we couldn't pick up the package either.
Our six year old, bounded down the stairs, blew through the streamers, and said, "One present?" And before we could explain and apologize, said, "Well, that's okay. It looks pretty cool. Oh! and there are cards!"
It was all I could do to act like this was an awesome party. It was so beneath my expectations, and plans, and yet...he was genuinely happy! He had to be the healthiest member of our family at this point---he honestly projected his surprise and disappointment, and then overcame it quickly and had a blast. I had to wonder if he was just a "lesson" to behold at that point, or if he had been let down so many times, that like and orphan child with no shoes, he was just happy it was warm outside.
So that I didn't cry in all my hung-overness, I chose to believe the former. And stood in awe of his character.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Gardener Extraordinaire
As you may have noticed our five year old has a small crop of produce sprouting in our window boxes. He checks them daily and it is often the first thing he will tell anyone he sees. His enthusiasm is wonderful and contagious. Which made it all the more wonderful, when spotting a pile of bird seed on the ground, he inquired, "Bird Seed?! If we plant that can we grow birds?!"
Freezer Genius
So our freezer, crapped out the other day. Other day...being about 10 days ago...I called the manufacturer. The following is the series of events that have taken place in an effort to restore "freeze" in the freezer. True story.
"Hi, our freezer has stopped "freezing" and says 43 degrees on the screen."
"Okay. What you need to do is hit the power freeze button, and the freezer temperature. It should say -4."
"Okay."
"Have you done that?"
"Yup. I pushed the button. It said, -4 for 2 seconds and is now back to 47 degrees."
"Okay. What I am going to do is enter your information into our system. Give the freezer some time to reset and see if it fixes itself. If not, call us back."
"Okay. Thank you."
Several hours passed and our freezer now said 58 degrees. Self-fix outlook poor.
So I called back. This time I got a very kind man from India.
"Hello?"
"Hi. I wanted to see about scheduling repair for our freezer."
"Oh-kay. Have you called us before?"
"Yes."
"Oh-kay. Let me see here."
"Oh yes. I see that you have called us before."
"Yes."
"Yes. I am going to ask you to please follow the following steps."
"Okay."
"I need you to turn the temperature way down on your refrigerator and freezer for a while and call us back."
"What?!"
"Are you not me understanding?"
"No, I understand you, I'm just not sure why I need to damage my remaining food that is in the fridge by freezing it. My refrigerator is fine. My freezer keeps getting warmer."
"Mam, I am just trying to do what it says in the manual, before I put in a service ticket in case it fixes itself."
"I appreciate that. I think I need a service ticket, please. It's not fixing itself."
"Oh-kay. What I am going to do is put in a request for service. A technician will call you in 4 days and ask if you still want service. If you do, he will tell you when he can come out to fix it."
"4 days?" I then felt a twinge of "snobby USA entitlement." As if to say, "Oh...My...Gaaawd. I cannot...live for 4 days without a freezer."
"Yes, Mam."
"Okay. Thank you."
"Thank you. Have a nice day."
"Yup. Thanks." And I hung up.
5 days later...there is a message on my vmail from an appliance technician.
I call the number. Number no good. I listen to the message again. Number no good. In a "Do do dooo..the number you have reached is not in service, please try again..." kind of no good way.
So I google the name of the company. It turns out the company is based in Washington state. Had I only known to attach the 509 area code, it would have been no problem at all. Silly me.
I call the manufacturer back. I got the same kind gentleman from India.
After reacquainting ourselves, I explain that the technician who called me was based in Washington.
"So, he cannot come to your house."
"No. Because I live in Colorado."
"And that is too far?"
"It is a (holding all expletives inside) plane ride."
"Oh. Well, let me see. Where do you live?"
"In Colorado." I start pouring some wine. It's 3pm.
"So...let me see. I am sorry for the confusion. I have the wrong address for you."
"Hmmm," I say while sipping.
"So, do you still need a technician?"
"Yes," I said, "The freezer did not fix itself." I'm catching on.
"Okay. This is a number for a local company in Colorado Springs, they will contact you shortly."
"Thank You."
"Sorry for the confusion."
"No problem. Bye."
2 hours later...right before closing...
"Hi, this is Lisa from Shox Appliance and Engineering. Do you need to schedule a repair?"
"Yes."
"Okay...well we are pretty backed up...how about the 9th?"
"Sure."
"Do you want me to schedule it, or do you want to wait and see if it fixes itself?"
In my head...."Seriously."
What I say, "Yes, please put me down. And if it miraculously fixes itself, I'll cancel."
"Okay. We have you down for Monday the 9th."
"Thank you. Bye."
From the other room...
"Mom, can we—"
"No."
"But.."
"Just, No."
"Hi, our freezer has stopped "freezing" and says 43 degrees on the screen."
"Okay. What you need to do is hit the power freeze button, and the freezer temperature. It should say -4."
"Okay."
"Have you done that?"
"Yup. I pushed the button. It said, -4 for 2 seconds and is now back to 47 degrees."
"Okay. What I am going to do is enter your information into our system. Give the freezer some time to reset and see if it fixes itself. If not, call us back."
"Okay. Thank you."
Several hours passed and our freezer now said 58 degrees. Self-fix outlook poor.
So I called back. This time I got a very kind man from India.
"Hello?"
"Hi. I wanted to see about scheduling repair for our freezer."
"Oh-kay. Have you called us before?"
"Yes."
"Oh-kay. Let me see here."
"Oh yes. I see that you have called us before."
"Yes."
"Yes. I am going to ask you to please follow the following steps."
"Okay."
"I need you to turn the temperature way down on your refrigerator and freezer for a while and call us back."
"What?!"
"Are you not me understanding?"
"No, I understand you, I'm just not sure why I need to damage my remaining food that is in the fridge by freezing it. My refrigerator is fine. My freezer keeps getting warmer."
"Mam, I am just trying to do what it says in the manual, before I put in a service ticket in case it fixes itself."
"I appreciate that. I think I need a service ticket, please. It's not fixing itself."
"Oh-kay. What I am going to do is put in a request for service. A technician will call you in 4 days and ask if you still want service. If you do, he will tell you when he can come out to fix it."
"4 days?" I then felt a twinge of "snobby USA entitlement." As if to say, "Oh...My...Gaaawd. I cannot...live for 4 days without a freezer."
"Yes, Mam."
"Okay. Thank you."
"Thank you. Have a nice day."
"Yup. Thanks." And I hung up.
5 days later...there is a message on my vmail from an appliance technician.
I call the number. Number no good. I listen to the message again. Number no good. In a "Do do dooo..the number you have reached is not in service, please try again..." kind of no good way.
So I google the name of the company. It turns out the company is based in Washington state. Had I only known to attach the 509 area code, it would have been no problem at all. Silly me.
I call the manufacturer back. I got the same kind gentleman from India.
After reacquainting ourselves, I explain that the technician who called me was based in Washington.
"So, he cannot come to your house."
"No. Because I live in Colorado."
"And that is too far?"
"It is a (holding all expletives inside) plane ride."
"Oh. Well, let me see. Where do you live?"
"In Colorado." I start pouring some wine. It's 3pm.
"So...let me see. I am sorry for the confusion. I have the wrong address for you."
"Hmmm," I say while sipping.
"So, do you still need a technician?"
"Yes," I said, "The freezer did not fix itself." I'm catching on.
"Okay. This is a number for a local company in Colorado Springs, they will contact you shortly."
"Thank You."
"Sorry for the confusion."
"No problem. Bye."
2 hours later...right before closing...
"Hi, this is Lisa from Shox Appliance and Engineering. Do you need to schedule a repair?"
"Yes."
"Okay...well we are pretty backed up...how about the 9th?"
"Sure."
"Do you want me to schedule it, or do you want to wait and see if it fixes itself?"
In my head...."Seriously."
What I say, "Yes, please put me down. And if it miraculously fixes itself, I'll cancel."
"Okay. We have you down for Monday the 9th."
"Thank you. Bye."
From the other room...
"Mom, can we—"
"No."
"But.."
"Just, No."
childhood thoughts...
Had our own "What is Goofy" (circa Stand By Me) conversation today. It was "What if Wolverine was a doctor?"
"He'd be really good at surgery," I added.
"Yea, but he wouldn't be able to stop cutting..."observed the eldest.
"Yea, he would just be like, 'chh chh chh...oops!'" our sound-effect 5 yr old added.
"Yea, someone else would have to stitch him up," noted our daughter---local surgery expert.
"What if Max, our dog (the 5yr old has jumped topics mid-Wolverine debate) was like a motorcycle, and you could sit on his back and you could twist his ears like this--he gestured a "revving" motion?"
"Yea." The older two said in unison...either bored or daydreaming about riding their dog.
"He'd be really good at surgery," I added.
"Yea, but he wouldn't be able to stop cutting..."observed the eldest.
"Yea, he would just be like, 'chh chh chh...oops!'" our sound-effect 5 yr old added.
"Yea, someone else would have to stitch him up," noted our daughter---local surgery expert.
"What if Max, our dog (the 5yr old has jumped topics mid-Wolverine debate) was like a motorcycle, and you could sit on his back and you could twist his ears like this--he gestured a "revving" motion?"
"Yea." The older two said in unison...either bored or daydreaming about riding their dog.
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