My husband tries so hard to be a handyman. He gives 110% to every task he sets out to do and usually after 4 or 5 tries he is victorious. When there is a handyman task to be done, the kids and I usually leave the house--it can get ugly. The last task he set out to do was to replace the light in the kitchen. This entailed checking to see if it was the light fixture that was busted or if there was no electricity coming through the wires. In this case he was able to use some fun little gadget that told him how many bitta bites of electricity were pulsing through there (bitta bites is a technical term-look it up in the "housewife's manual to technical terms"). After playing with this fun gadget that only men gets their thrills from, it was determined that it indeed was the light fixture.
Now, you should know that before all of this, he was changing light bulb after light bulb from the fixture--even going so far as to wear special gloves to screw in the light bulb for fear of it exploding from the oils on his hands. This was all entertaining to me... especially waiting for the light bulb to self destruct like a mission impossible message! Long story short, after 3 trips to Home Depot, he was able so successfully replace the light fixture and to this day when I walk into the kitchen I say a little pray before flipping on the switch--Praise the Lord it still works! He was able to retain his hero status in the family and life went on.
Well, last night as I was giving the little one a bath I noticed that the wood around our toilet was looking damp. After some investigation which entailed me getting on my hands and knees and wedging myself between the tub and toilet to take a look at the rear of the toilet--which most moms know is the "danger zone" and should only be done with a surgical mask and iron clad gloves on, I discovered that the toilet was in fact leaking. What to do... What to do! I stuck a towel back there and finished bathing the little one, got her dressed, read her a story, said our prayers, put Holy Water on her head (she cannot go to sleep without this last important step) and turned out her light. I headed back into the bathroom to check my towel placement-and low and behold the towel was pretty well soaked. DANG!
My first instinct was to not tell my handyman husband and to just call a professional handyman in the morning. But then I started to panic... what if he walks in the bathroom and yells "WHO LEFT A TOWEL ON THE FLOOR?" I could do two things at that moment, I could ignore it and let the kids take the fall (which is mean, but this is survival here people) or I could tell him about the leak. How to tell him, How to tell him... OK, so I decided to tell him that I was going to hire a handyman because there is a leak in the toilet and we need to get it fixed pronto (did I mention that we have family coming in town tomorrow and this is the bathroom that they will use?)
I walked down the stairs and tossed this statement nonchalantly at him in hopes that he would say "OK" and return to watching American Idol (which he loves to watch but will never admit that). Well... my luck for the day must have been used up in traffic because he instantly got up off the couch and headed for the bathroom. After some discussion and so forth he determined that it was just a simple bolt that needed to be screwed tighter-"Simple fix babe-no worries." Famous last words.
In the end... we somehow managed to get a cracked toilet tank and water was a'flowin! It happened so fast and although he turned off the water to the toilet, the tank was still full and flowing out. ARGHHHHHH! After some quick thinking he flushed the toilet and that took care of most water in the tank since it could not fill up with the water turned off. I did not know this-I know many things, how to diaper a newborn, how to juggle three kids in the grocery, how to pump gas, how to make dinner while talking on the phone to the bank and quietly reprimanding our son to the point that he is shaking in his boots without missing a beat on both the bank conversation or the stirring of the dinner... but I did not know this. Men must go to a different school where they get to learn all of these little helpful hints... it is called "Husband to the Rescue School" where they learn to rescue their wives even when the disaster has come at their own hands!
So now we no longer have a little hand towel at the rear of the toilet... we have a bucket. I get to go purchase a new tank this morning at the Toilet Tanks R Us Depot where Bubba and Gomer work--I am calling this a school field trip. Hopefully this will not fall under the "how NOT to install a toilet tank" lesson 101. I am going to leave my son and my husband at home tonight to complete this handyman task while the girls and I go to the grocery. I think we will be safer out of the house...
2.28.2007
2.27.2007
Babies and Marines
Today I had a Doctor's appointment out at Bethesda Naval Hospital... also known as "the President's Hospital." I left at 7am for my 9am appointment because after all, we do live in DC and traffic moves at the pace of a glacier in the morning hours. Can anyone please tell me why people do not just put their foot on the gas and GO? Anyway... while I was there I had all kinds of tests done-my glucose screen (which I FAILED) and such. The nurse was talking about ultrasounds-but I already had mine weeks ago so I did not have to schedule one. That was a good thing apparently because the radiology department is so booked because of all of the injured Marines from Iraq that are at Bethesda recovering. I sat and thought of all the Marines who were in the same building as me-who had risked their lives for innocent people.
I was enormously proud at that moment to be an American. So many people say that we should just mind our own business, but how can I possibly say that to a Marine who was recovering in the floors above me. We are a Christian Nation-it is our duty to defend those who cannot do so. I think of the strong Marines at this hospital, and then I think of my fragile precious infant that will be born there. I cannot think of a better place to be-surrounded by strength and courage. Surrounded by those who saw need in others and stood to defend them. To be surrounded by all of the guardian angels of those Marines... it is a good place to have a baby.
Babies represent new life. Marines represent protection. I have been so nervous about giving birth with this baby--because I know how much it is going to hurt. Today, as I left the hospital I felt calm. I am an American-my baby is an American, and she will be protected by all means by our Military when push comes to shove. She will be free-because of those who have fought for her freedom.
I pray all of the Marines at Bethesda can have a little less pain the day that I deliver... I pray I can offer up my pain for theirs and that they may somehow feel comforted knowing that this American mom, this military wife, is ever so grateful for all that they have done. God Bless them all~
I was enormously proud at that moment to be an American. So many people say that we should just mind our own business, but how can I possibly say that to a Marine who was recovering in the floors above me. We are a Christian Nation-it is our duty to defend those who cannot do so. I think of the strong Marines at this hospital, and then I think of my fragile precious infant that will be born there. I cannot think of a better place to be-surrounded by strength and courage. Surrounded by those who saw need in others and stood to defend them. To be surrounded by all of the guardian angels of those Marines... it is a good place to have a baby.
Babies represent new life. Marines represent protection. I have been so nervous about giving birth with this baby--because I know how much it is going to hurt. Today, as I left the hospital I felt calm. I am an American-my baby is an American, and she will be protected by all means by our Military when push comes to shove. She will be free-because of those who have fought for her freedom.
I pray all of the Marines at Bethesda can have a little less pain the day that I deliver... I pray I can offer up my pain for theirs and that they may somehow feel comforted knowing that this American mom, this military wife, is ever so grateful for all that they have done. God Bless them all~
2.26.2007
Brain Cobwebs!
OK, so we took a week off of school for our trip to sunny Florida. Today we are back in the swing of things with school and you would think that we were back to day one!
Can I just say that I am sick and tired of Saxon Math 7/6? My oldest is doing splendid with it... but I am doing really poorly. I have to re-teach myself what my dear old 7th grade math teacher was trying to pound into my head ages ago! And what is with these Investigations? I loathe the Investigations. Here we are rolling along happily doing lessons and the occasional test when WHAM! an Investigation pops up and it leaves my daughter and I in a "Huh? What are they talking about?" kind of funk. Personally, who really cares how to do a model of a bathroom and then figure out the actual length and width of the bathroom-rounding to the nearest foot mind you. Just give us the cold hard facts folks-teach us how to simplify fractions, how to figure out the sum of the angle measures of triangles and quadrilaterals, and how to find a whole number when a fraction is known... because that is what you will use the rest of your life right? UGH!
I talked to my sister Colleen today and asked her if she had done all of these blasted Investigations when her daughter was doing Saxon. She said "Oh Good Lord no!" That was good enough for me because my niece Jessica is a top student in her freshman class, so obviously those Investigations were printed in the Saxon books by mistake... they are somewhat like a yellow street light, you can ignore them and roll on through~
Actually, my daughter really enjoys math. Saxon is challenging-especially since she is in 6th grade and doing 7th grade. Next year she gets to skip on to Algebra. That is when I will start sneaking the book into my bedroom at night and re-teaching myself the lessons before we start them. I will tell you, it all makes so much more sense now than it did when I was a kid! This math stuff is a piece of cake to understand now that I don't need to learn it.
I am just thankful that we are homeschooling math-seriously! When I was a kid I did not understand this stuff and before I knew it, the teacher was moving on to Chapter 23 and I was still confused about chapter 11. Homeschooling gives my children the opportunity to be confident in what they have learned before moving on to the next challenge... or in my son's case, it offers him the opportunity to finish his Phonics and then go stuff his little sister in the hall closet while he stands guard in full military gear until I say "Hey! Get over here and get started on your math!" Not many kids can make such bold claims about their school day.
Having said all of this about math... I intend to keep a deep dark secret from my children that the day I fear most is the day my battery dies on my trusty calculator and I have to add and subtract my checkbook using long division and so on (yes, I am aware that I would not use long division to add and subtract my checkbook totals... please don't email me and tell me this).
As the teacher to my children for their math, all I can say is "Thank God for the solutions manual!"
Can I just say that I am sick and tired of Saxon Math 7/6? My oldest is doing splendid with it... but I am doing really poorly. I have to re-teach myself what my dear old 7th grade math teacher was trying to pound into my head ages ago! And what is with these Investigations? I loathe the Investigations. Here we are rolling along happily doing lessons and the occasional test when WHAM! an Investigation pops up and it leaves my daughter and I in a "Huh? What are they talking about?" kind of funk. Personally, who really cares how to do a model of a bathroom and then figure out the actual length and width of the bathroom-rounding to the nearest foot mind you. Just give us the cold hard facts folks-teach us how to simplify fractions, how to figure out the sum of the angle measures of triangles and quadrilaterals, and how to find a whole number when a fraction is known... because that is what you will use the rest of your life right? UGH!
I talked to my sister Colleen today and asked her if she had done all of these blasted Investigations when her daughter was doing Saxon. She said "Oh Good Lord no!" That was good enough for me because my niece Jessica is a top student in her freshman class, so obviously those Investigations were printed in the Saxon books by mistake... they are somewhat like a yellow street light, you can ignore them and roll on through~
Actually, my daughter really enjoys math. Saxon is challenging-especially since she is in 6th grade and doing 7th grade. Next year she gets to skip on to Algebra. That is when I will start sneaking the book into my bedroom at night and re-teaching myself the lessons before we start them. I will tell you, it all makes so much more sense now than it did when I was a kid! This math stuff is a piece of cake to understand now that I don't need to learn it.
I am just thankful that we are homeschooling math-seriously! When I was a kid I did not understand this stuff and before I knew it, the teacher was moving on to Chapter 23 and I was still confused about chapter 11. Homeschooling gives my children the opportunity to be confident in what they have learned before moving on to the next challenge... or in my son's case, it offers him the opportunity to finish his Phonics and then go stuff his little sister in the hall closet while he stands guard in full military gear until I say "Hey! Get over here and get started on your math!" Not many kids can make such bold claims about their school day.
Having said all of this about math... I intend to keep a deep dark secret from my children that the day I fear most is the day my battery dies on my trusty calculator and I have to add and subtract my checkbook using long division and so on (yes, I am aware that I would not use long division to add and subtract my checkbook totals... please don't email me and tell me this).
As the teacher to my children for their math, all I can say is "Thank God for the solutions manual!"
2.25.2007
"I Want My Two Dollars!"
Has anyone seen the movie "Better Off Dead" with John Cusack? It is an 80's flik-very funny, I highly recommend it for a Saturday night movie fest complete with soda and popcorn. Anyway, in this movie, a paperboy comes to the door to collect two dollars for the paper bill. Throughout the movie this paper boy starts to stalk John Cusack's character chanting "I WANT MY TWO DOLLARS!" Well, that is how I have felt the last few days with girl scouts in the neighborhood...
Next year I need to make up a chart of who I have bought those darn cookies from and who I have not. I am going to get it laminated and post it right beside our front door so I will know just how many boxes we have ordered and how much money we owe... so far this year we are in the hole over $40~we obviously have a problem.
It is just that those little girls look so cute ringing my door bell asking if I would like to buy some cookies. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that they would think of ME when it comes to cookies, and subsequently, I start checking off box after box giddy with the thought of eating such yummy morsels. Another thing that gets me is when they say those magical words-"you don't have to pay until the cookies are delivered." Now, this must hit some kind of weak synapses in my brain and I think to myself "I don't have to pay now??? Ohhh, this is like ordering from a catalog in November and not having to pay until February!" But then February comes and I have forgotten all about the purchase I made in November and... you know the drill.
I was never a girl scout. I was a brownie... then I crossed the bridge to the girl scout world, looked in the mirror (pretending it was water) and then quit. If any of you were ever a brownie/girl scout you will know what I am talking about. I remember wearing my new clogs to the "bridge" presentation--they were wooden, and I loved them. I never sold any cookies though--I don't even know if they did cookies back then. You would think that if they did my family would have known about it... especially my Dad and his love for sweets.
My daughter was a girl scout for a little while. We did the cookie thing and let me tell you, it was exhausting! I have to hand it to all of the moms of all of the girl scouts out there--because they are the ones who are doing all of the "behind the scenes" work when it comes to cookie sales. Sure, the little girls get to put on their little uniforms with all of the patches that they have accomplished and sell the cookies, but we all know it is a mom's job once all of those cookies are delivered and ready to be sorted, accounted for, tallied, delivered, and if the money comes short... it is mom who ends up writing a check. So, to all of you girl scout moms out there-I salute you~
As for me, I am not answering my front door anymore. Our freezer is full of cookie boxes, the cabinet above the stove (the snack cabinet) is stuffed with boxes, and I even have a few boxes hidden under my bed. I have already eaten an entire box of Samoas and now I am eyeing a box of Tagalongs... *big sigh*
Next year when those little sweet girl scouts ring my door bell I am going to have to just hide in the bathroom and pretend no one is home.
Next year I need to make up a chart of who I have bought those darn cookies from and who I have not. I am going to get it laminated and post it right beside our front door so I will know just how many boxes we have ordered and how much money we owe... so far this year we are in the hole over $40~we obviously have a problem.
It is just that those little girls look so cute ringing my door bell asking if I would like to buy some cookies. I am overwhelmed with gratitude that they would think of ME when it comes to cookies, and subsequently, I start checking off box after box giddy with the thought of eating such yummy morsels. Another thing that gets me is when they say those magical words-"you don't have to pay until the cookies are delivered." Now, this must hit some kind of weak synapses in my brain and I think to myself "I don't have to pay now??? Ohhh, this is like ordering from a catalog in November and not having to pay until February!" But then February comes and I have forgotten all about the purchase I made in November and... you know the drill.
I was never a girl scout. I was a brownie... then I crossed the bridge to the girl scout world, looked in the mirror (pretending it was water) and then quit. If any of you were ever a brownie/girl scout you will know what I am talking about. I remember wearing my new clogs to the "bridge" presentation--they were wooden, and I loved them. I never sold any cookies though--I don't even know if they did cookies back then. You would think that if they did my family would have known about it... especially my Dad and his love for sweets.
My daughter was a girl scout for a little while. We did the cookie thing and let me tell you, it was exhausting! I have to hand it to all of the moms of all of the girl scouts out there--because they are the ones who are doing all of the "behind the scenes" work when it comes to cookie sales. Sure, the little girls get to put on their little uniforms with all of the patches that they have accomplished and sell the cookies, but we all know it is a mom's job once all of those cookies are delivered and ready to be sorted, accounted for, tallied, delivered, and if the money comes short... it is mom who ends up writing a check. So, to all of you girl scout moms out there-I salute you~
As for me, I am not answering my front door anymore. Our freezer is full of cookie boxes, the cabinet above the stove (the snack cabinet) is stuffed with boxes, and I even have a few boxes hidden under my bed. I have already eaten an entire box of Samoas and now I am eyeing a box of Tagalongs... *big sigh*
Next year when those little sweet girl scouts ring my door bell I am going to have to just hide in the bathroom and pretend no one is home.
2.24.2007
A Husband's Guide to Getting IN and OUT of the Dog House!
Well... we are back! We left the warm 78* weather of sunny Florida and trekked back up to our balmy 35* Virginia. It is about time too... because I was getting so sick of sitting in the warmth of the sun and watching my kids frolic in the pool-or at the beach. I much prefer waking up in the middle of the night and wondering if my bare feet will freeze to the bathroom floor. Honestly, being warm for a week made me all the more anxious for spring to arrive. We had a fabulous time with family in Florida and can't wait until we can visit again!
I had a birthday while I was in Florida. I woke feeling rested (since the little one was sleeping with her older sister... I had no middle-of-the night wake ups!) My husband turned to me and said "Happy Birthday!" as he gave me a kiss. Now, before I go any further, it should be known that my children and my sister-in-law were fabulous on my birthday and I loved every moment of being with them, but my husband must have thought it was HIS birthday because as I padded out to the kitchen ready to get all of my hugs from my children, I see my husband slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and waving good-bye. HUH? I decided to stay calm... he must have something planned for later in the day-surely.
Now, if any of you had read my anti-Valentine's Day blog, you would think that my husband would have made sure he did not mess this birthday up. No such luck. He must look at that gold band around his finger as his security net. Besides, how far can I get with 4 kids and a dog?
Anyway, the day went on and my sister-in-law and I headed out to see a movie. When we came home, we found that my husband had gone golfing AGAIN (that is twice in one day--he was pushing it let me tell you) and he had left his brother and my son to watch my little one and their little one. Two little girls who need constant supervision, or a house can have a "DO NOT ENTER-DANGER ZONE" sign posted on the door in no time. Well, we found said brother-in-law and son in front of the TV and the girls were upstairs in the craft room buck naked jumping on an air mattress. How does this happen? The girls say they were exercising. Now, I don't know about you and I am going to search the Internet fully, but I have never heard of exercise that required one to get naked. If there was such a sport, I could guarantee I would not be a participant as I would either lose my uterus jumping up and down naked, or I would make the spectators run in horror yelling "Godzilla!" No joke. How do little 3-year-olds think of such things?
little one: "Phew, all of the jumping is making me hot!"
little niece: "me too! I bet if we take off our clothes it will be cooler."
little one: "oh, you are so smart! I feel so much better already!"
little niece: "let's shave the dogs and paint them with finger paints next!"
So the day turned into night and still my husband had not done anything for my birthday. As my mother said, "A birthday is the one day that REALLY is all about you!" This is true, because the good Lord can look around my house and see that I am a mere servant to all of these people who live here. I did notice that my husband jumped into the photo of me with the kids in front of the cake they had made me and decorated with pink icing and sprinkles-what every mom dreams of. I wonder if he thinks I will look at this photo years from now and forget that he went golfing twice on my birthday and did not even get me a card and will simply say "Oh, how nice. All of my family celebrating my birthday." No such luck on that one either--it will be a cold day in you know where before I forget. You see, I have to go to confession and ask forgiveness all the stinking time for these grudges-I have also asked Fr. D. if I can confess some of the sins I think my husband has... he told me no. Dang.
As the sun set on my birthday and I was now in full anger mode, my husband had no idea the things I was saying about him in my mind. No, he just sat on the couch as snug as a bug not knowing that inside my brain were things like "I have given this man children!" or "I am 35 for goodness sakes-and pregnant with this man's forth child!" and even, "I am never buying him another thing or baking him another cake for any of his birthdays EVER AGAIN!" There were the occasional curse word thrown in there as well... but I will spare you.
Well, a day or two later, he finally figured out that he was in the dog house. He has a way of figuring out that I am angry with him wayyyy after the fact so that my anger has diminished and I just blow it off. Basically, he gets away with it! I am sure he would tell you that he does not get away with anything--but that is just him talking and his track record on the lack of holiday rememberings should be enough proof for all of you to just shake your head in sadness for him.
OR---it could all be a part of his plan. You see, a few days later, my sister-in-law and I were heading to a spa to get a pedicure that her Aunt Faye had given us for a gift. Ahhh, sweet Aunt Faye, now here is a person who knows how to give a gift! Our pedicures were at a very posh spa and we were very excited to get pampered for a bit. My feet really needed some help too--what with walking and such! When we arrived everyone was so nice and they kept making comments that they had time left over so if we wanted any other services done it would be no problem. Now, I am the keeper of the checkbook in our house so I was going with the gift pedicure and I was good. As I walked back to the little pedicure area one of the technicians said "Your husband called and said you could get anything done you wanted to." Now... knowing my husband, I thought she was just being funny-you know like those signs you see at some boutiques that read "Your husband called, he said to buy anything you want." Then another girl said it to me and another when finally I had to stop and say "Are you serious?" I guess my husband had called the spa and told them it was my birthday and that he was in the dog house and to give me any treatment I wanted. His brother was quoted in the background yelling "The same goes for my wife!" Finally, after about 20 minutes of interrogating the girls at the spa "Are you sure it was MY husband?" "What exactly did he say?" "How did he sound on the phone?" I began to believe them. Wow--how sweet. My sister-in-law and I decided to get a manicure as well. I sat torn--for three days now I had been mildly perturbed at my husband and then he goes and pulls something sweet like this and I have to be nice. Oh the wicked web he weaves! Mid-way through my manicure I did ask how my husband said to pay for this... and the girl replied, "Oh, he said you would pay for it." I just nodded--I already knew that answer.
After our 2 HOURS at the spa (oh it was bliss!) We met our husband's for dinner at Olive Garden. I smothered my husband with hugs and kisses and laughed when he said "I thought you would get a facial and a haircut as well!" He beamed knowing that he was the hero and I was just the simple peasant girl that accepted his gift. He was relieved that I was no longer giving him the silent treatment, and I was happy to know that he remembered my birthday... three days after the fact.
He claims it was his plan all along to call the spa and add to Aunt Faye's gift. This was a good out for him until I asked him why he would make me sad for three days before giving me a gift... he recanted his words quickly and then asked for a lawyer. My sister-in-law and I have decided to blame all of this on our mother-in-law.
I had a birthday while I was in Florida. I woke feeling rested (since the little one was sleeping with her older sister... I had no middle-of-the night wake ups!) My husband turned to me and said "Happy Birthday!" as he gave me a kiss. Now, before I go any further, it should be known that my children and my sister-in-law were fabulous on my birthday and I loved every moment of being with them, but my husband must have thought it was HIS birthday because as I padded out to the kitchen ready to get all of my hugs from my children, I see my husband slinging his golf bag over his shoulder and waving good-bye. HUH? I decided to stay calm... he must have something planned for later in the day-surely.
Now, if any of you had read my anti-Valentine's Day blog, you would think that my husband would have made sure he did not mess this birthday up. No such luck. He must look at that gold band around his finger as his security net. Besides, how far can I get with 4 kids and a dog?
Anyway, the day went on and my sister-in-law and I headed out to see a movie. When we came home, we found that my husband had gone golfing AGAIN (that is twice in one day--he was pushing it let me tell you) and he had left his brother and my son to watch my little one and their little one. Two little girls who need constant supervision, or a house can have a "DO NOT ENTER-DANGER ZONE" sign posted on the door in no time. Well, we found said brother-in-law and son in front of the TV and the girls were upstairs in the craft room buck naked jumping on an air mattress. How does this happen? The girls say they were exercising. Now, I don't know about you and I am going to search the Internet fully, but I have never heard of exercise that required one to get naked. If there was such a sport, I could guarantee I would not be a participant as I would either lose my uterus jumping up and down naked, or I would make the spectators run in horror yelling "Godzilla!" No joke. How do little 3-year-olds think of such things?
little one: "Phew, all of the jumping is making me hot!"
little niece: "me too! I bet if we take off our clothes it will be cooler."
little one: "oh, you are so smart! I feel so much better already!"
little niece: "let's shave the dogs and paint them with finger paints next!"
So the day turned into night and still my husband had not done anything for my birthday. As my mother said, "A birthday is the one day that REALLY is all about you!" This is true, because the good Lord can look around my house and see that I am a mere servant to all of these people who live here. I did notice that my husband jumped into the photo of me with the kids in front of the cake they had made me and decorated with pink icing and sprinkles-what every mom dreams of. I wonder if he thinks I will look at this photo years from now and forget that he went golfing twice on my birthday and did not even get me a card and will simply say "Oh, how nice. All of my family celebrating my birthday." No such luck on that one either--it will be a cold day in you know where before I forget. You see, I have to go to confession and ask forgiveness all the stinking time for these grudges-I have also asked Fr. D. if I can confess some of the sins I think my husband has... he told me no. Dang.
As the sun set on my birthday and I was now in full anger mode, my husband had no idea the things I was saying about him in my mind. No, he just sat on the couch as snug as a bug not knowing that inside my brain were things like "I have given this man children!" or "I am 35 for goodness sakes-and pregnant with this man's forth child!" and even, "I am never buying him another thing or baking him another cake for any of his birthdays EVER AGAIN!" There were the occasional curse word thrown in there as well... but I will spare you.
Well, a day or two later, he finally figured out that he was in the dog house. He has a way of figuring out that I am angry with him wayyyy after the fact so that my anger has diminished and I just blow it off. Basically, he gets away with it! I am sure he would tell you that he does not get away with anything--but that is just him talking and his track record on the lack of holiday rememberings should be enough proof for all of you to just shake your head in sadness for him.
OR---it could all be a part of his plan. You see, a few days later, my sister-in-law and I were heading to a spa to get a pedicure that her Aunt Faye had given us for a gift. Ahhh, sweet Aunt Faye, now here is a person who knows how to give a gift! Our pedicures were at a very posh spa and we were very excited to get pampered for a bit. My feet really needed some help too--what with walking and such! When we arrived everyone was so nice and they kept making comments that they had time left over so if we wanted any other services done it would be no problem. Now, I am the keeper of the checkbook in our house so I was going with the gift pedicure and I was good. As I walked back to the little pedicure area one of the technicians said "Your husband called and said you could get anything done you wanted to." Now... knowing my husband, I thought she was just being funny-you know like those signs you see at some boutiques that read "Your husband called, he said to buy anything you want." Then another girl said it to me and another when finally I had to stop and say "Are you serious?" I guess my husband had called the spa and told them it was my birthday and that he was in the dog house and to give me any treatment I wanted. His brother was quoted in the background yelling "The same goes for my wife!" Finally, after about 20 minutes of interrogating the girls at the spa "Are you sure it was MY husband?" "What exactly did he say?" "How did he sound on the phone?" I began to believe them. Wow--how sweet. My sister-in-law and I decided to get a manicure as well. I sat torn--for three days now I had been mildly perturbed at my husband and then he goes and pulls something sweet like this and I have to be nice. Oh the wicked web he weaves! Mid-way through my manicure I did ask how my husband said to pay for this... and the girl replied, "Oh, he said you would pay for it." I just nodded--I already knew that answer.
After our 2 HOURS at the spa (oh it was bliss!) We met our husband's for dinner at Olive Garden. I smothered my husband with hugs and kisses and laughed when he said "I thought you would get a facial and a haircut as well!" He beamed knowing that he was the hero and I was just the simple peasant girl that accepted his gift. He was relieved that I was no longer giving him the silent treatment, and I was happy to know that he remembered my birthday... three days after the fact.
He claims it was his plan all along to call the spa and add to Aunt Faye's gift. This was a good out for him until I asked him why he would make me sad for three days before giving me a gift... he recanted his words quickly and then asked for a lawyer. My sister-in-law and I have decided to blame all of this on our mother-in-law.
2.16.2007
I'm A Leavin'... in a Van with Three Kids and a Hubby, Varicose Veins and Hemorrhoids....
Isn't that a catchy tune? I am sure it will be in the top ten in no time! We are heading to Florida early tomorrow morning--it is a hardship tour of rest and relaxation and 70* weather. Don't fret for me, I will take it all in stride and make the best of it... hehe!
Seeing as today is Friday and the day before we leave for a week... I have a to-do list out the wazooooo! Answer me this riddle: Who is it that will pack? Put sandwiches in a stack? Get out the luggage rack? Take all of the children's flack (can I take 7 pillows and my comforter?) Eat 11 sandwiches by the name of Big Mac, Yell things like "DON'T TALK BACK!" and still be as sharp as a tack? Why ME of course--or any other mother who is getting her family ready to go on a trip by doing all the laundry, cleaning the house (because who in their right mind likes to come home to a dirty house), packing everyone's clothes (how did I get this JOB?) and making sure the heat is turned down, the doors are locked, the bills are all paid, the dog is at the kennel, the guinea pig is being fed, the newspaper is stopped, the mail is on hold, the van is gassed up, and we have not forgotten anyone's beloved stuffed animals or blankets? PHEW! All this and I have a hair appointment today~if I am going to be frazzled, I may as well look good.
When I was a kid we went on a lot of road-trip vacations. I remember sitting in the station wagon all loaded up with my dad honking the horn yelling "What is your mother doing in there!" Well I will tell you dad... she is making sure you have enough underpants to get you through the week!
How does the burden of packing and being in charge of not forgetting anything fall on the mother? I am sure if my husband could speak on this blog (which he has threatened to do) he would let you all know that what he does is of the utmost importance upon leaving on vacation... he pays for it all! Yeah yeah yeah--I could pay for it too if I had a paying job, but instead I have a job that offers only fame and fortune... I am the packer of the clothes, the keeper of the dvd's for the trip, the reader of the map, the "Can everyone just get along!" yeller and the glue that holds this happy forced family fun driving day together.
Oh, it can be rough--all of us stuck in a small space for 11+ hours. I will be lucky if I do not end up like Goldie Hawn in "Overboard" when she snaps and just sits staring into space saying "bubububububuubububu" for the last stretch of the trip. But I am optimistic. My husband has been away for the past week so I am really looking forward to seeing him again. I will cherish doing the little things that annoy him like saying "listen to this" and then start to read him an entire article out of People magazine on a woman who fell in a well and only had red hots in her pocket to keep her alive for the 4 hours before she realized that she could just stand up and climb out. I will also start philosophical discussions on what exactly to call a male flight attendant... a Stuart, or a male Stuartess? My husband loves conversations like those.
So think of me tomorrow... well no, think of me on Sunday when we are safely in Florida and not wearing any snow gear and the only white on the ground is sand by the beach! Pray for me tomorrow--or maybe you should pray for my husband. Some days I wonder what it is like to be married to someone who is always sarcastic and so darn funny (I am talking about me here). I am sure he has his moments of "why me" but then I just give him a hug and tell him that I can't live without him and all is right with the world again. He is so easy~and I am so lucky.
If you don't hear from me in a few days do not panic! I will check in to let you all know how much fun I am having...
Blessings,
Cris
Seeing as today is Friday and the day before we leave for a week... I have a to-do list out the wazooooo! Answer me this riddle: Who is it that will pack? Put sandwiches in a stack? Get out the luggage rack? Take all of the children's flack (can I take 7 pillows and my comforter?) Eat 11 sandwiches by the name of Big Mac, Yell things like "DON'T TALK BACK!" and still be as sharp as a tack? Why ME of course--or any other mother who is getting her family ready to go on a trip by doing all the laundry, cleaning the house (because who in their right mind likes to come home to a dirty house), packing everyone's clothes (how did I get this JOB?) and making sure the heat is turned down, the doors are locked, the bills are all paid, the dog is at the kennel, the guinea pig is being fed, the newspaper is stopped, the mail is on hold, the van is gassed up, and we have not forgotten anyone's beloved stuffed animals or blankets? PHEW! All this and I have a hair appointment today~if I am going to be frazzled, I may as well look good.
When I was a kid we went on a lot of road-trip vacations. I remember sitting in the station wagon all loaded up with my dad honking the horn yelling "What is your mother doing in there!" Well I will tell you dad... she is making sure you have enough underpants to get you through the week!
How does the burden of packing and being in charge of not forgetting anything fall on the mother? I am sure if my husband could speak on this blog (which he has threatened to do) he would let you all know that what he does is of the utmost importance upon leaving on vacation... he pays for it all! Yeah yeah yeah--I could pay for it too if I had a paying job, but instead I have a job that offers only fame and fortune... I am the packer of the clothes, the keeper of the dvd's for the trip, the reader of the map, the "Can everyone just get along!" yeller and the glue that holds this happy forced family fun driving day together.
Oh, it can be rough--all of us stuck in a small space for 11+ hours. I will be lucky if I do not end up like Goldie Hawn in "Overboard" when she snaps and just sits staring into space saying "bubububububuubububu" for the last stretch of the trip. But I am optimistic. My husband has been away for the past week so I am really looking forward to seeing him again. I will cherish doing the little things that annoy him like saying "listen to this" and then start to read him an entire article out of People magazine on a woman who fell in a well and only had red hots in her pocket to keep her alive for the 4 hours before she realized that she could just stand up and climb out. I will also start philosophical discussions on what exactly to call a male flight attendant... a Stuart, or a male Stuartess? My husband loves conversations like those.
So think of me tomorrow... well no, think of me on Sunday when we are safely in Florida and not wearing any snow gear and the only white on the ground is sand by the beach! Pray for me tomorrow--or maybe you should pray for my husband. Some days I wonder what it is like to be married to someone who is always sarcastic and so darn funny (I am talking about me here). I am sure he has his moments of "why me" but then I just give him a hug and tell him that I can't live without him and all is right with the world again. He is so easy~and I am so lucky.
If you don't hear from me in a few days do not panic! I will check in to let you all know how much fun I am having...
Blessings,
Cris
2.15.2007
Van Banter
ME: "little one, what would you like?" (at the McD's Drive-thru)
little one: "a cheese burgerrrrrr"
after taking a bite of said cheese burger:
little one: "Hey! They put cheese on this!"
While driving son and oldest to Drama class after picking up son from karate (he has to change in the van on the way)
little one: "brother, why do you have your pants off?"
brother: "because I have to change to go to drama."
little one: "but, you're nekid!"
brother: "well thank God we have tanned windows!"
Oldest sister: "don't you mean TINTED windows?!"
I have no idea when we will stop referring to our tinted windows as tanned windows...
little one: "a cheese burgerrrrrr"
after taking a bite of said cheese burger:
little one: "Hey! They put cheese on this!"
While driving son and oldest to Drama class after picking up son from karate (he has to change in the van on the way)
little one: "brother, why do you have your pants off?"
brother: "because I have to change to go to drama."
little one: "but, you're nekid!"
brother: "well thank God we have tanned windows!"
Oldest sister: "don't you mean TINTED windows?!"
I have no idea when we will stop referring to our tinted windows as tanned windows...
I am Getting Soft... in the Middle and in the Brain
I am a glutton for punishment... my youngest has been sleeping with me since my husband left out of town. You may be saying "Oh, that is sweet" but believe me when I tell you that just these last few days of her climbing quietly in my bed will turn into MONTHS of screaming and crying-both her and me-and trying to get her back into her own bed.
My mom was smart... but with each child she became more soft. My older brother never was allowed to sleep with my parents, my older sister would only make it to the hallway and fall asleep propped up against their door. With me, I would make it into their bedroom and ask my mom if I could sleep with her and she would let me crawl in--but only gave me 2 inches of bed and no covers. Now, I would lay there as stiff as a board for as long as I could, but eventually I would give up and head back to my own bed. I say my mom is smart because she never had to get up and lead any of us back to our beds-she didn't give an inch when it came to her sleeping and we knew it! When my little sister came along-my mom went soft. Claire slept in my parent's bed all the time--and in the middle I think, with all the covers.
The same is true for our family. My oldest never ventured out of her own bed. She would even call for me in the morning when she woke up and ask if it was time for her to get up yet. When I would sleepily call back "no, lay your head back down." SHE WOULD DO IT! Wow... I thought I was a brilliant mother! My son never slept in his bed-or in mine. I would go to him throughout the night getting him back to sleep--this is the kid who broke my brilliant streak and made me a slave to his sleep cycle. Our youngest did really well until she went to a toddler bed--and this just happened! She is 3.5 and we just moved her into a toddler bed--because we need the crib for the little lamb I carry around with me 24/7 who gives me heartburn and hemorrhoids. Anyway, we just completed a sleep deprivation trial here at our home with the little one and I know I am causing another string of sleepless nights by letting her crawl in with me while my husband is away with work.
Now, you need to know that I am taking a great risk by posting such a blog. You see, I always thought that my husband would read my blog every once in a while-but only skimming, never truly reading (kind of like the birthday cards the kids and I spend HOURS searching for and he will skim the contents and ask for cake-sheesh!) Well, after my "Valentine's Day stinks" post yesterday, I found out that he does in fact read my blog... good thing he hasn't figured out how to post a comment yet.
So just consider this post a warning to my hubby. The little one has taken over your side of the bed, and it does not look like she will be relinquishing her newly acquired throne. Oh, and Ralph next door did come out and help the kids finish shoveling the drive after he asked our boy if you were out of town. (This was after he received the cupid poop in his mailbox!)
We can't wait til you come home on Friday~I miss you!
My mom was smart... but with each child she became more soft. My older brother never was allowed to sleep with my parents, my older sister would only make it to the hallway and fall asleep propped up against their door. With me, I would make it into their bedroom and ask my mom if I could sleep with her and she would let me crawl in--but only gave me 2 inches of bed and no covers. Now, I would lay there as stiff as a board for as long as I could, but eventually I would give up and head back to my own bed. I say my mom is smart because she never had to get up and lead any of us back to our beds-she didn't give an inch when it came to her sleeping and we knew it! When my little sister came along-my mom went soft. Claire slept in my parent's bed all the time--and in the middle I think, with all the covers.
The same is true for our family. My oldest never ventured out of her own bed. She would even call for me in the morning when she woke up and ask if it was time for her to get up yet. When I would sleepily call back "no, lay your head back down." SHE WOULD DO IT! Wow... I thought I was a brilliant mother! My son never slept in his bed-or in mine. I would go to him throughout the night getting him back to sleep--this is the kid who broke my brilliant streak and made me a slave to his sleep cycle. Our youngest did really well until she went to a toddler bed--and this just happened! She is 3.5 and we just moved her into a toddler bed--because we need the crib for the little lamb I carry around with me 24/7 who gives me heartburn and hemorrhoids. Anyway, we just completed a sleep deprivation trial here at our home with the little one and I know I am causing another string of sleepless nights by letting her crawl in with me while my husband is away with work.
Now, you need to know that I am taking a great risk by posting such a blog. You see, I always thought that my husband would read my blog every once in a while-but only skimming, never truly reading (kind of like the birthday cards the kids and I spend HOURS searching for and he will skim the contents and ask for cake-sheesh!) Well, after my "Valentine's Day stinks" post yesterday, I found out that he does in fact read my blog... good thing he hasn't figured out how to post a comment yet.
So just consider this post a warning to my hubby. The little one has taken over your side of the bed, and it does not look like she will be relinquishing her newly acquired throne. Oh, and Ralph next door did come out and help the kids finish shoveling the drive after he asked our boy if you were out of town. (This was after he received the cupid poop in his mailbox!)
We can't wait til you come home on Friday~I miss you!
2.14.2007
Happy Birthday Grandpa Mac
Today is my Grandpa Mac's birthday. He was my mom's dad and I loved him more than ever.
When I was a little girl I used to run around without a shirt on in the summer. I was such a tomboy that I used to pray to God to make me a boy. My mom and dad let me run around half naked because it was the 70's. Everyone was half naked! I remember one night in summer when my Grandpa was over for dinner, we were all in the backyard and the sun was just going down to where the day is touching night and the lightening bugs are just starting to blink. The summer air had turned a bit chilly, but being a kid I did not care. I ran up to my Grandpa and he wrapped his arms around me and asked "aren't you cold?" I can still feel the warmth of his arms that night. It was one of those wonderful moment hugs-the kind that are given so freely and accepted without hesitation. The kind that you will remember long after the hug has been released and will touch you forever.
My Grandpa used to come over every Wed. night for spaghetti dinner at our house. After my Grandma Mac died (I was only one-oh how I wish I had known her longer) my Grandpa would rotate houses for dinner. My mom has 2 sisters and a brother, so it worked out well. We had Wed. night. Well, Grandpa would come in and sit in the big chair in our living room and turn on the news. Now, when I was a kid any other night of the week before dinner we watched Welcome Back Kotter except for this one night. I didn't really mind though-I would snuggle in between my Grandpa's feet and sit. Grandpa Mac had one wooden leg and one regular leg. He would sit watching the news and I would creep my hand up his pant leg feeling his wooden leg. I would pull his sock up and then push it down and then pull it up and then push it down. I was always amazed at how smooth the wood was and how his sock was able to stay up! I also remember my grandpa never tiring of me playing with his wooden leg. He never told me to shoo, or to stop. He just sat there, watching the news and making me feel fully accepted by him.
Grandpa also had a pocket full of caramels ready to give out to all of his grandchildren. He also had a special smell to him. Now, many of my close friends know that I have a very sensitive nose. I associate events and people with the smell of it all. I used to go into my parent's bedroom when I was a little girl and pick up my mom's pillow and take in her scent when she was not home. I still do that when I hug her-I breath in deep so that I can take her in fully. Anyway, I remember my Grandpa's scent. When I was pregnant with my son, I would be walking or driving in my car and all of a sudden I would smell my Grandpa. I also craved caramel candy-I felt my Grandpa near... I felt like he already knew my son.
I was just an adolescent when my Grandpa passed away. I was in that horrible stage of girl/woman where you want so desperately to be cool, yet at the same time your emotions are still as a child's. Well, I sat at the funeral of the man who I loved most in the world and did not cry... I tried to play it cool. Then something happened, my cousin Dave (who is a big-time Doctor now... so proud of him!) broke down and started to sob. Here was Dave-who I had always thought was cooler than me-was crying. I started sobbing as well. My grandpa was gone, and he apparently meant as much to my cousins as he did to me--he somehow made all of us feel as if we were the most important one in his life.
I watch my own father with my kids today and he is the same kind of Grandpa as my Grandpa Mac was. He loves my kids enormously and they think he is the greatest. What a gift-to have the love of your Grandpa on your side... always!
Happy Birthday Grandpa Mac. I love you~
When I was a little girl I used to run around without a shirt on in the summer. I was such a tomboy that I used to pray to God to make me a boy. My mom and dad let me run around half naked because it was the 70's. Everyone was half naked! I remember one night in summer when my Grandpa was over for dinner, we were all in the backyard and the sun was just going down to where the day is touching night and the lightening bugs are just starting to blink. The summer air had turned a bit chilly, but being a kid I did not care. I ran up to my Grandpa and he wrapped his arms around me and asked "aren't you cold?" I can still feel the warmth of his arms that night. It was one of those wonderful moment hugs-the kind that are given so freely and accepted without hesitation. The kind that you will remember long after the hug has been released and will touch you forever.
My Grandpa used to come over every Wed. night for spaghetti dinner at our house. After my Grandma Mac died (I was only one-oh how I wish I had known her longer) my Grandpa would rotate houses for dinner. My mom has 2 sisters and a brother, so it worked out well. We had Wed. night. Well, Grandpa would come in and sit in the big chair in our living room and turn on the news. Now, when I was a kid any other night of the week before dinner we watched Welcome Back Kotter except for this one night. I didn't really mind though-I would snuggle in between my Grandpa's feet and sit. Grandpa Mac had one wooden leg and one regular leg. He would sit watching the news and I would creep my hand up his pant leg feeling his wooden leg. I would pull his sock up and then push it down and then pull it up and then push it down. I was always amazed at how smooth the wood was and how his sock was able to stay up! I also remember my grandpa never tiring of me playing with his wooden leg. He never told me to shoo, or to stop. He just sat there, watching the news and making me feel fully accepted by him.
Grandpa also had a pocket full of caramels ready to give out to all of his grandchildren. He also had a special smell to him. Now, many of my close friends know that I have a very sensitive nose. I associate events and people with the smell of it all. I used to go into my parent's bedroom when I was a little girl and pick up my mom's pillow and take in her scent when she was not home. I still do that when I hug her-I breath in deep so that I can take her in fully. Anyway, I remember my Grandpa's scent. When I was pregnant with my son, I would be walking or driving in my car and all of a sudden I would smell my Grandpa. I also craved caramel candy-I felt my Grandpa near... I felt like he already knew my son.
I was just an adolescent when my Grandpa passed away. I was in that horrible stage of girl/woman where you want so desperately to be cool, yet at the same time your emotions are still as a child's. Well, I sat at the funeral of the man who I loved most in the world and did not cry... I tried to play it cool. Then something happened, my cousin Dave (who is a big-time Doctor now... so proud of him!) broke down and started to sob. Here was Dave-who I had always thought was cooler than me-was crying. I started sobbing as well. My grandpa was gone, and he apparently meant as much to my cousins as he did to me--he somehow made all of us feel as if we were the most important one in his life.
I watch my own father with my kids today and he is the same kind of Grandpa as my Grandpa Mac was. He loves my kids enormously and they think he is the greatest. What a gift-to have the love of your Grandpa on your side... always!
Happy Birthday Grandpa Mac. I love you~
Cupid poop
Alexa was telling me about her Valentine's Day craft of chocolate covered marshmallows and sprinkles on a ka-bob. I thought I would share our Valentine's day craft that we do-and then distribute to all the neighbors who have still not shoveled my driveway:
Cut squares out of tissue paper, plastic wrap-or whatever.
Drop a handful of red hot candies in the middle of tissue paper, plastic wrap-or whatever.
Twist and tie up so that the red hots do not fall out.
Attach little poem:
Cut squares out of tissue paper, plastic wrap-or whatever.
Drop a handful of red hot candies in the middle of tissue paper, plastic wrap-or whatever.
Twist and tie up so that the red hots do not fall out.
Attach little poem:
I couldn't send you flowers,
and candy wouldn't do...
And mushy cards just didn't say
the things I want them to.
So I got you something special-
and here's the inside scoop...
I found you something very rare-
It's genuine Cupid Poop!
Drop in all the neighbor's mailboxes.
How's that for Valentine's spirit?
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