Poor Children

My children are the last kids in their town to have a "DS" (that would be Nintendo DS Lite handheld gaming system).
So they say.
And I can see why they think so.
A few weeks ago we walked into a waiting room in our town and there was a little 3-year-old girl in pigtails and maryjanes playing guess what? Yep, a DS.
The Boo looked at me nearly cross-eyed with a scrunched up face and pointed (German Short-haired hunter style). "See? Even she has a DS Mom!" he groaned through his gritted teeth.
So..... the poor children took matters into their own hands. Today, two of them sat down cut out a piece of paper (I do provide scissors, paper and the occasional wedge of crayon)folded it in half, drew a screen and a keyboard and carried them around all afternoon.
See, people, this is what I'm saying: If I simply provide them with the electronic, then I'm doing them a disservice. How else do I explain their wonderful creativity!

The Sugar Buzz

When I pass the Golden Arches anymore, I can't possibly drive by. I have to drive in. I have to pull up to the speaker and order "Two Sweet Teas please."
"Anything else?" queries the voice of McOZ.
"No," I wince. "Just the tea please."
And hurry.
Because I'm jonesing for the tea. I'm not kidding. It's an addiction worse than biting my nails.
I've had more than one a day, and if you've ever tried one, you know how much sugar I will have ingested. A pound or so, I swear. Once or twice I've even had the shakes coming down from a sweet tea binge. I will even forgo a coffee for a sweet tea and that, friends, should tell you something.
I do have a cohort in crime. You see, Susi used to live in Tennessee and there sweet tea is king. So once she discovered the McD's sugary beverage she was hooked too. Thus the reason we have the pact. Should one of us drive thru MickeyD's without acquiring an additional beverage for the other, this act shall be punishable by... well, let's just say we haven't tested it out yet. Friendship and Sweet Tea is on the line. And those are two things I don't want to do without!

Post Script -- you wouldn't believe the number of people out there who blog about their addiction to sweet tea. It's a 320 calorie conspiracy!

But what are they for?

So, the boys (ages 9,9,8) are sitting in the backseat of the minivan (of course, what did you think I drove?) punching and poking and pulling at each other on the short ride to soccer practice.
One of them says: "Come on guys, Mom said no more punching each other in the nuts!"
And another says: "I know but why can't we punch each other in the nuts?"
Someone else says: "Yeah, mom, what's in there that can get hurt?"
And I say after realizing this could go in many different directions depending on how I handle it: "Stuff," I handily come up with, glancing in the rearview mirror to see how this will be taken.
"But what kinda stuff. What are they for," comes a voice from the back.
"Stuff for when you grow up and want to have kids," I throw out there and take a right turn toward the school.
"WE HAVE KIDS IN THERE!" Boo exclaims.
This is no kidding funny stuff for the blog, I think immediately.
"No, you don't have kids in there."
"But what is it then?" he queries.
Stick to the facts reporter, I tell myself.
"It's liquid guys, ok. Let's just move on now."
To which the Bean, always good for a grand statement, holds up a finger in the air and declares : "I know that's the reason why the human body is 98 percent liquid water."


Post Script: The funniest thing to me is that this similar conversation happened to my friend Jill and her three boys back in Michigan a few years ago. But those boys reasoned that two nuts meant two kids. She had to laugh wondering if they thought a friend of ours with five kids at the time, had a whole bunch of them!

Summer Musings

What I learned on my summer vacation...
It is not wise to eat a FiberOne Oat & Chocolate Bar before spending the day at the beach.
I like the silly, freakish cartoon called Chowder on the Cartoon Network. Something about it cracks me up. Try it, you'll like it. Either that or I'm mad from too much summertime tv.
Spray-on sunscreen is awesome, however, between four kids it lasts one trip to the pool. Back to the old slather-it-on-while-the-kids-squirm-and-whine-"that's-enough-mom"
til-they-look-like-a-wet-ghost stuff.
Wet beach towels create lots of laundry. (see previous blog on laundry situation.)
And the phrases "Stop annoying me," "Mom, I'm bored," and "Do I have to..." never go out of style.

Feeling a Little Shaggy Lately

Those of you with kids will understand when I say the end of the school year has me running around like a dog chasing its tail. All the end of the year parties are approaching, sports are frenetically wrapping up and I spend more time shuttling kids to and fro many appointments.
But I guess I didn't realize how discombobulated I'd become until one night, last week I took the dogs medicine.
Yes, you heard right. Took it. Took it out of the bottle, got distracted on my way to shove it into her mouth and do that stroke the neck until it goes down thing. Took and got myself a glass of water, popped it in my mouth and swallowed. At which point, my eyes must have bugged out of my head in surprise, like those cartoon people.
"Omigod," I said to The Man who is sitting at the computer working. "I just swallowed the dog's medicine."
He turned around in resignation of my stupidity. "I have no words," was all he could say.
Of course, I started laughing/crying with the true understanding that I must have really lost my mind this time. And I get online to ask the all-knowledgeable Google what I should do.
Do you know that when I typed in "I accidentally swallowed my dog's medicine" there were actually three other people who had done so? Okay, it's not a large group but I am proud to be part of such a rarity.
We determined that I should be fine, afterall it was only a small amount of thyroid medicine - perhaps I could use a dose - and if turned into the shaggy dog by the next morning we would know we were wrong.
On the medical information on bottle it says "Keep away from small children."
I'm pretty sure it should have the disclaimer : "And from run-ragged crazy moms!"

Everybody's a Critic

So the Moos (age 5) walks into my room the other day and stops to look at a small painting of the Arizona Landscape. It was the mediocre result of an afternoon course in Scottsdale I took last year.
"Hmmmm," she says, her head slightly cocked. "Did you paint that?"
"Yep," I reply.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," she explains. "It doesn't look like a professional painting."

My genes fit!

Well, those "jeans" too but just barely since I ate half a bag of those awesome Archway Molasses cookies with the frosting on top. But I digress...
I've found that the Bean and his twin love to write just like me! Of course, I'm impressed because I'm the parent. But I think you would be, too. Below is a poem the Bean , age 9, wrote after a poet visited his class for awhile. He was given a rock, I think his was quartz, and told to write about it. His teacher entered it into a national poetry contest. This kid is finding his niche!

An Icy World

When I look real hard,
a world forms and I see blizzards,
with their never-ending cries

When I look real hard,
A world forms and I see houses of crystal,
with their cold-eyed people

When I look real hard,
a world forms and I see people,
working happily at crystal farms

When I look real hard,
a world forms and I see a sun
spreading crystal heat on the people

When I look real hard,
a world forms and I see crystal waterfalls
with crystal fish who live there

And I am there,
crystal fishing,
having a happy time.

Not airing my dirty laundry

Alrighty, haven't been back to the laundromat since.... I know many of you are not surprised in the least.

Airing my dirty laundry

So, I did it.
The mountain of laundry rising from my laundry room floor became so daunting this week I piled it in the car and went to the Laundromat.
Actually, I’ve thought of it here and there. In fact, one of my friends with lots of kids said it was quite an efficient way to get it all done. And now that I’ve got soccer uniforms and dirt stained clothes from outside play to add to the mix it made sense.
What sealed the deal was an article my husband gave me. It was really a piece about work-life and how to challenge yourself to meet goals by thinking of how one challenge can check off many boxes.
Those who know me might already have discovered I have the ability to take on many tasks at once without really accomplishing any of them on a given day. Thus my problem with laundry. I start a load in the morning. Head downstairs, notice the dishwasher needs unloading. Start that, then the dog needs outside. Coming back in I see the kids have a school form to fill out, go to look for a pen, nearly trip over the open dishwasher, finish unloading, kick it closed, hear dog barking, let her back in, feel the need to check email head to the computer… and so on and so on you get the idea. I totally forget about the laundry until I go upstairs later that night to put the kids to bed.
Taking stock is part of the program this aforementioned article addressed and after really looking at my inability to focus on the task at hand (incidentally, this is what made me a great journalist- the ability to jump from task to task and finish by a deadline) I realized I had to change my enviroment. And if I went to the Laundromat, I could sit and focus on something else – my writing. Thank goodness for laptops!
So after mustering the courage to try this plan (another point of the article is trying something with the understanding it might not work) I headed to the strip mall laundry in the next town.
As I drag the first load in the door I gracefully say “So, um, how does this all work now? Haven’t been to one since college,” to the attendant at the front of the place. Luckily there’s no one else in there to witness my panache, as I start loading up the 50 pounder followed by the 40 pounder of whites and the 30 pounder next to it. Seriously, more than 100 pounds of laundry? On a Tuesday? And I still have a load in the washer and dryer at home.
But here’s the really cool thing. It’s been less than an hour and I’ve watched all my hundred pounds of laundry whirl around in soapy water, then whir dry and now I’ve finished a blog post. Now all I have to do it fold it, load it back in and put it away. How’s that for efficient!
Well, it would be except that it's now five days later that I actually find the time again to post this blog and if you look upstairs.... a nicely folded basket of laundry is still sitting in the hall waiting patiently to be put away. C'est la vie!

From the dinner table

Over an amazing spectacular dinner of Kraft macaroni and cheese (Spiderman noodle if you must know) a witty comment from "The Bean" (age 9).....
"M-----, quit talking about queens and princesses! Think about the poor people that had to serve the queens. They had a hard life. Their life was bad!"
"Why was it so bad?" the kindergartner queries.
"Taxes," he answers, bowing his head.

Now they tell me

So (as they say in CT) I'm taking a break from eating bon bons and watching the roomba. I'm sitting at the kitchen counter flipping through my Self magazine in another attempt to inspire my new healthy attitude, when I see it.
Aha, I say aloud in my head. Now they tell me.
According to this mag, one should not "stock up" on packages of 100 calorie count treats. Seems research indicates, if you have too many of those in your pantry, you are likely to binge on them. Instead, keep only a few packets in the house at a time.
Well of course.
And yes, this plan does make you exercise. Walk out door, get in car, drive, walk across parking lot, reach for 100 calorie count package (yes, muscle work!) pay, walk back to car, drive, back into house. Repeat. Because next day they will all be gone!

ps-- yes, someday I will actually write about something important. I'm just warming up!

Use your words....

Listen people, the little spot where it says "comment" at the end of a post means comment! Part of the fun here is seeing what everyone has to say (but if you make fun of me, I'll cry). Tell me if there's a topic you'd like me to explore (and keep it clean!) Only one brave soul, Thanks Tom, has been brave enough to venture into that territory. But I suppose as long as you're reading, that's all I really care about. It's my little way of keeping in touch with all those people I don't see around town anymore and those I see around my new digs. Take care, and feel free to forward this site to others, the more the merrier - yes I know you giggled, Tom.

Call me Jane Jetson.

I now have my very own Rosie.
She arrived in a cardboard Amazon box on the front porch. My husband had been eagerly awaiting the birthday present he ordered online and literally jumped up and down with excitement when he spotted it, unopened, in the foyer.
The kids were called in to witness the unveiling of this "best birthday present ever!"
I got it mostly opened when I spotted the word "Roomba", closed the box back up and laughed out loud "You did not get me a Roomba."
According to a guy a work, this was the "best thing ever!" and now we own this item too.
It truly is a luxury item and I understand how silly it seems. But we don't own a yacht or a timeshare in the Caymans or even a Wii, so what's so wrong with owning a Roombot vacuum?
It's truly a funny little thing. It whizzes around the house in no particular fashion whatsoever, even though the instruction booklet tells me it has a carefully programmed plan. It starts in a circle then furiously heads to various spots around the room, bumping into and sometimes skimming the same place over and over and over.
The children place various pieces of scrap paper and tufts of yellow lab dog fur around the room to test it and cheer when it disappears under the round robot of suction.
In fact, the only true drawback to the thing is that we spend more time watching it (and the kids chasing it and the dog trying to get away from it) than we do going about our business, (which the instruction book says we should.)
The guy at work who recommended "the best thing ever!" warned us that we would spend much of our time trying to figure out a pattern or trying to direct it where we want it to go. But alas, this Roomba has it's own agenda and there's no controlling it. We even talk to it to no avail.
But if we just put it to work and walk away and give it a long enough time, at some point it hits just about every major dirt pile. It's my little robot duster and as long as I give it fresh water and food, I mean empty its collection bin and recharge frequently, we seem to be getting along just fine.
I did chastise my husband for buying me an appliance, and of all things a vacuum cleaner, for my birthday, but we decided that it's really more like a new pet. Except that it doesn't shed fur all over the house, it scoops it up!

Candice, you inspire me

So here’s my big idea, if I write down at the end of the night, how my day went re; exercise diet etc, I’ll either shame myself straight, or provide humor for the masses. I’ll start on a Monday, so that I can fully expose what I am up against.

Morning, the kids all complain about going to school after a long winter break, but I need them out so I can get back on track with my hip hop abs. Everybody out the door, a bowl of cheerio crunch and cup of coffee and I’m ready to go. That is after a phone call from a friend down the street. Ok, then, lets try to go for a run. It’s sunny and hip hop abs can wait for a rainy day. Plus, if I can get myself to actually run more than 100 feet, I may start losing weight, it works for my husband anyway. So out I go, walk, run, walk, run, walk, run, walk for 25 minutes hoping no one has noticed I’m not really running very far at any one stretch of time. Then home to lift some hand weights while watching Divine Design on HGTV. Candice, you inspire me. (Bad Jerry Maguire reference.) I even thru in a few crunches and stretches.

Then, since exercising has indeed given me so much energy I actually get in the tubs and scrub, yes scrub, them down. Then do the bathroom floors.

Running out of time since my daughter will be off the bus soon and my son has a presentation at school on George Lucas I hop in the nice clean shower quickly, get dressed (is it my imagination or are these pants fitting just a bit more loose?) and then notice the kitchen where the breakfast mayhem has gone untamed. Well, that’ll have to wait.

After a quick lunch, Lean Cuisine me please, I get the daughter lunch, head to the school and then head off to hit a few errands including the grocery store. There I stock up on 100 calorie snacks (yep, I know I could just measure and baggie my own stuff but maybe just maybe this will work if I take the shortcut) I get inches away from the frozen food aisle only to look at my phone (really, who wears a watch anymore) to see I’ve got 25 minutes to get through the checkout and a few miles home before the bus drops off the other three kids. Yogurt milk and bread be damned. I’ll be back (Arnold Schwartzenegger)

I succeed in picking the correct checkout lane, get out in minutes and on the way I manage to eat two of the 100 calorie packs. Well, at least the math is easy this way.

I pull in the drive start to unload, get the fridge and meats put away and the bus rolls to a stop and out come two children. Where, I ask, is your brother? And while they seem unconcerned they’ve left a man behind, the reaction changes once I tell them now we get to hop in the car to go get him at school. No computer game time, sorry dudes.

I leave the groceries in the middle of the kitchen, tell the dog not to eat anything, grab a few snacks for the kids in the car (thank goodness they are laying in the middle of the kitchen floor still in the plastic bags!) and get to the school there discovering my child prostrate in the office with a serious fever. Well, it just so happens that I have a drs appt for his twin brother (long story, I swear I have a running weekly appt there) in 20 minutes, so hi ho hi ho it’s off to docs we go amidst the protests of some testy siblings. (I’m pretty sure I ate another 100 calorie pack on the way, I had left it in the dash in case I got hungry some other day)

After some confusion over the twins’ paperwork, a diagnosis of an ear infection and the handing over of an antibiotic prescription, I now take four cranky kids to the Target pharmacy. The completely miserable with ear pain son is curled up in a ball in the large part of the cart begging for mercy as his brothers keep forgetting not to bump the cart or throw items in on top of him. While waiting my 20 minutes I manage to get talked into letting each of them buy a chocolate easter bunny (hey, I resisted at the toy aisle, what else do you want) and decide that yes indeed I do deserve the pack of six chocolate and peanut butter bunnies as payment for my troubles. (I’m starting to see a pattern of stress eating here… hmmmm) We finally get out of the store and back home where it does surely look like the kitchen has exploded with groceries, but luckily no trace of the dog digging in.

As the kids finally get a computer turn, gorge themselves on chocolate bunnies and the sick one passes out on the couch, I frenetically try to get things back into shape and whip up some dinner. I will admit that only one of my chocolate and peanut butter bunnies survived that ordeal. I also managed to ingest a few handfuls of Doritos.

And so goes the first day of my diet and exercise journal and I’m pretty sure that while I started out strong, I sure petered out in the end. Literally. This yet-to-be-fab butt didn’t get off the couch all night.

Still, I must not remain deterred. Tomorrow, I tackle the saddle-bags. And go back for milk.

-----------------------30------------------------------------

yep, it's coming along just fine

Where am I out in this vast world of the InterWeb anyway?