My name isn't Suzy!

I'm having a bit of an identity crisis. 

Lately, I've been having a lot of Suzy Homemaker moments. And while technically I am a "homemaker", I don't identify myself that way. 

Loving, Devoted Wife & Mother. Yes.

Stay at Home Mom. Yes.

Retired Speech-Language Pathologist. Yes. 

Xbike Instructor. Yes.

Damn Good Friend. Yes.

Sometimes Blogger. Yes.

Witty Bitch. Yes.

Maid. Yes.

Cook. Yes.

Laundry Fairy. Yes.

Hunter & Gatherer. Yes.

Wine lover. Yes. 

Over-volunteerer. Yes.

Homemaker. Wait, What?

I'm not sure why I don't identify with the term homemaker or why this label irks me. Labels don't matter, right? I guess in my head it just seems so 1950s. Not that there was anything wrong with being a homemaker in the 50s. (Best to cover my bases in case one of my dead grandmothers gets wind of this. They could be reading over my shoulder. Sometimes one of them makes the lights in my house flicker. True story.) I've even heard that doctors in the 50s were pretty liberal with the valium for those homemakers, so there's that. What? Widespread valium use doesn't go in the pro column? Oh. My mistake. 

Anyway, here are some of the occurrences of late that have given me the homemaker hibbie jibbies. 

1. I got a Shark Steam Mop and I am ridiculously excited about it. A mop!?! WTF? I love it. I tell people about it. 

2. I've been ironing Scott's shirts. I. DON'T. IRON. Yet, I've ironed his shirts now on 2 occasions. Maybe I've been replaced by one of those Stepford Wives? 

3. I got new plungers at Costco today and I cannot wait for someone to clog up the toilet so I can try one out, which I'm sure will be soon as for some mysterious reason we use plungers quite a bit at our house. We blame the toilets. Ok, so hear me out on this. Rubbermaid has this new genius plunger called the Clean & Dry Plunger. Scott showed me an ad for it this morning on Youtube and we were both sadly very intrigued. Then I saw a 2 pack at Costco and got so excited that I texted Scott a pic and put them in my cart pronto. The plunger "repels water & other things". The demo in the ad is super cool. Go ahead and Goggle it. I'll wait. 

Yeah, big sigh, I'm a Homemaker. Better than a Homewrecker. I aspire to one day be a Lady of Leisure, but until I get a staff to mop the floor and plunge the toilet, I'm happy to have the latest and greatest technology to help me do the job.


Peace & Love ;-)

I should be scrubbing toilets.

Something very strange is going on with me. I'm leaving for vacation soon and I'm not stressing out about cleaning the house. If you find this confusing click here and all will be explained. I should be dusting, vacuuming and scrubbing, but I'm just not feeling it. I feel I should be feeling it, but I'm not. Trying to get in the spirit of my usual pre-vacation neurosis, I did clean my bathroom yesterday and while I like that it's clean, I do not feel compelled to press on.


This is worrisome. Seriously, what is wrong with me? Am I depressed? I don't think so. Here's what I know:

• I'm pretty darn excited about the vacation with Scott to include sand, sea, beer & tequila sans children. Yay!
• My sleep patterns seem the same. They are as jacked up as they ever were and I'm tired like I've been for the last 12 years.
• I'm exercising and getting high from it. I get paid to do it, so I'm really not sure if would be motivated to go right now otherwise. I don't ask myself that. I just do it. 
• I have been doing an excellent job shoving food in my face lately, but I go through cycles. Eat, drink, be merry and gain 5, followed by get strict with myself and lose the 5. I blame my daughter who has decided to be a baker this summer. It would be very rude of me not to eat all the yummy stuff she's been filling the kitchen with. (Um, yeah, there's probably some kind of eating issue in there. It's no secret I have a sugar addiction. Let's just gloss over that for now. Okay? Great.)
• I'm still feeling the happy moments and getting fired up when appropriate or sometimes when it's not.

Yep, I seem pretty much the same minus the clean house neurosis. 

I have noticed I've been going a little longer over the last few months between serious house cleanings. Perhaps, subconsciously, I've been lowering the family's expectations so that in a few weeks when, for the first time in 11 years and 9 months, I have all my offspring in school from 8-2, they aren't wondering what in the hell I'm doing all day? The cleaner house will be a sign that finally I have time to get shit done.

Here's the problem with that, if indeed that 's what I've been doing, I don't think I'm going to feel like cleaning the house then either. 

Maybe I've just matured and have gained an understanding that in the grand scheme of things an uber clean house is overrated? That can't be right. There must be something wrong with me and there must be a drug for it. I better watch some TV and wait for one of the drug companies to inform me what I should ask my doctor about. 

Peace & Love :-)

Randomettes... Ummm...

Think, think, think...

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock...

I fear I've lost the will to rant.

I thought I'd have something to go on about after tent camping for 3 nights, but not really.

I didn't love sleeping in a tent on an air mattress or that the bathrooms were so far away, particularly in the middle of the night. Not that I walked to the bathrooms in the middle of the night, but my ass got rather cold while I was squatting in the bushes down wind from the tents. 

I also didn't love that the boy had a middle of the night, hour long, pain induced, freak out that damn near sent us searching for an ER at 2 a.m. (he's fine, we think it was gas. horrible, painful gas), but that wasn't because we were camping. That would have sucked at home too. Also the girl had a meltdown, mainly due to too much fun and lack of sleep (this we can blame on the group party camping), but all was well after a nap. 

Otherwise, the whole thing was pretty good. Fun even. The food was fantastic, thanks to Double D Moma and her mad menu planning, food & drink purchasing, and cooking skills. The company was fabulous. The setting was beautiful. The kids had fun. Scott had fun. I had fun. The dog seemed to like it and only wandered away from camp to be brought back by a ranger once. 

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After many, many games off having my ass handed to me, I finally beat Blondie in a game of Scramble. So the score is somewhere around: Lil Tirade- 1, Blondie- 93. It's a very small victory and I will cling to it. 

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I've been teaching the kids to do their own laundry. The boy is into it. He's 6 and loves to help around the house and do things on his own. Today he said, "I'm doing my laundry Mom". And he did. All by himself. Hamper-washer-dryer-dresser. The girl, age 11, is totally capable of mastering this task, but is way less enthusiastic. I told her that she is lucky because she got 5 more years of laundry service than her brother. The eye rolling and sighing leads me to believe she does not concur.

peace & love ;-)

Randomettes: Puking, Moths & A Drop Off Lane Miracle

I missed the girl's spring band concert last night, because I was home puking from food poisoning. Lovely. I missed last year's spring band concert, because I was tagging along with Scott on a business thing. I believe we were at a private Journey Concert that night. This year's excuse for not going was less guilt inducing, but also way less fun.


-----------------------------


This morning I rounded the corner into the drop off lane at school and witnessed a miracle. Everyone was doing it right. No one was parked by the kinder rooms waiting for the doors to open, no one had left a parked car in the hug & go lane to walk their kid to class. All the cars were pulling up as far as they could, dropping off students and then driving away in the correct lane. It was really, really weird. It felt like there was a rift in the space time continuum. Weird I tell you. There was another 20 minutes before the upper grades had their final bell so I'm sure someone fucked the whole thing up before school started though.


-----------------------------


The moths are back. They can hibernate in the pupae state apparently. This has been going on for a couple weeks and I just couldn't summon the strength to discuss it here. The pantry has been searched again and nothing has larvae in it and I can't find any pupae. The pupae can be in tiny cracks in the shelves or in areas outside the pantry. The pheromone trap has gotten a handful of moths and we have killed a half dozen or so. One moth was even trapped in a Ziploc after emerging from it's pupae in said Ziploc full of tea bags. Scott and I searched every tea bag and couldn't find the pupae. We threw the whole bag out of course. Sigh. That bag had been in the pantry since the original moth war lending credence to the hibernation theory and demonstrating the worthiness of all my cleaning, bagging and food containering. So there's that.


------------------------------


I survived the girl's 5th grade camping field trip. This should be applauded for at least 2 reasons. 


1. I AM NOT A CAMPER.


2. 3 days & 2 nights with 70 5th graders. I really shouldn't have to explain why you should be clapping for this.


---------------------------------


The girl has to bring a 'sweet treat' to a school party tomorrow and I wanted to pick up something sweet to bring to my GNO tomorrow night where we will be having 'Booze & Snacks'. I'm over the puking and while I'm sort of hungry, I'm also sort of leery of any food and nothing really sounds good. This made it really hard to be decisive on picking treats. I did a lot of wandering and staring and then this happened:

My kids are gonna be thrilled. My thighs will not.




Peace & Love ;-)

Check Out My Ass!

I almost titled this post "Happy Mother's Day to Me" or something like that, because it is sort of about my Mother's Day, but in the end it's really about my ass.

I have to admit I was a little bent that Scott didn't plan anything or get me a gift for Mother's Day. Instead he said we could do whatever I wanted. I really just wanted a nice day with my family. No extravagant gifts necessary, though I did feel like a bit of thought on his part would have been awesome. 

After the kids gave me their sweet cards and Scott gave me the gift of free choice, I was a little salty (only to Scott, not to my precious offspring). 

Also, I might not have been feeling super after the 2 "Bob Drinks" I had the night before, which involve so much vodka it's really like 4 or more regular drinks (Bob is not my friend's real name, obviously, as everything here is anonymous- that is if you don't know me) and I did have to get ready to teach my regular Sunday morning x-bike classes. (Note to self: don't go to Bob's house the night before teaching x-bike. duh!)

Anyhow, somehow I survived the x-biking, started feeling a bit better and decided I wanted a pedicure, Pinkberry and not to be in charge of dinner. I took the girl with me for the pedicures and when we went for Pinkberry my 6 y/o brought his wallet and paid for my yogurt. The Pinkberry people thought it was so adorable and they were right!

Near Pinkberry are several new clothing boutiques that Scott encouraged me to wander in and "pick out something pretty" because he's from the 1960s apparently. So I did.  

It felt a bit odd shopping somewhere other than Target, Old Navy or Marshall's, but I did find jeans that I love. They are Miss Me brand which allegedly is a good thing and they are cigarette length which the sales lady claims are "very in" right now. I did stand looking in the mirror at the length somewhat confused for awhile and let the lady talk and talk to convince me of how "now" this style is. She offered me heels to try on which made me laugh as I don't so much wear heels with jeans, I mean maybe a wedge, but heels? 

I bought the pants because my whole family said I should get them, Scott did not even give me stink eye over the price and if I do say so myself... my ass looks great in them. Check it out:

Lucky for Scott, the day was a win. I probably should have shopped longer and harder, but I really wanted to go home and take a nap. Damn you Bob!


peace & love ;-)

Wah!

Be prepared to be irked. Possibly quite pissed. Maybe even reach through the computer and bitch slap somebody angry.

I am having the hardest time adjusting to real life after returning from the cruise. 

My breakfast view one week ago (Cabo)

I know, I know, you wish you had such problems. You want to smack me. Well, you can't. Go ahead and call me names. It might help. I totally understand. I'll wait...

I don't want you to worry about me though. I will be okay. 

One day soon I will snap out of it and stop: 

• Being surprised that no one has come to tidy my house after we've left in the morning. 
• Wondering where the towel animal and chocolates are and why my bed looks like it was never made instead of perfectly turned down.
• Looking for the buffet.
• Expecting a fabulous show before dinner.
• Looking for Captain Jack Sparrow coming down the hallway.
• Assuming I can sleep till whenever.
• Wondering where my dining room servers are and what they've done with the chef.
• Trying to drop my kids at super fun kids' clubs 100 yards from the house.
• Thinking the biggest decisions of the day are what to drink, what time to start drinking, and what is the perfect pace for making it to all the desired activities.

I'm just going to have to accept that:

• I'm the only one who will tidy the house.
• The only towels on the bed will be damp ones left there after morning showers. There will be no turn down service.
• The only buffets in town are not the kind I'm looking for.
• The pre-dinner show here is homework and sports practices.
• It's unlikely I can get Scott to don his Captain Jack outfit and wander around the house more than once a week.
• It will be impossible to sleep in because I am back to mapping out the day and making lists in my head at 5 a.m.
• Joseph & Arjay will not be handing me a menu and taking my order. They won't be sending the chef either.
• I've got to take the kids to school and then chauffeur them to activities.
• What & when to drink are still on the list, but are so far down it I can't quite see them from the top of the list in the morning.

Le sigh....

What's a sad, spoiled gal to do.... start researching and planning the next cruise of course. Silly people! More naming calling? Yep. I get it. 

Peace & Love ;-)

Goodbye Reality

Scott and I are taking the children and a suitcase full of booze and going on a cruise.

Goodbye laundry.

Goodbye housekeeping.

Goodbye cooking.

Goodbye lacrosse, baton and tball practices.

Goodbye Facebook.

Goodbye Scrabble.

Goodbye phone calls, texts & emails.

Goodbye work.

Goodbye meetings.

Goodbye PTA & committees.

Goodbye kids' taxi service.

Goodbye blogging.

And goodbye peeps.

As Smart-ish As a 5th Grader

A bit of background information:


I was an excellent math student through junior year of high school which happens to be the last time I was a math student. I did take statistics in college, but that doesn't really count. I did not to take calculus my senior year of high school as I did not enjoy the calculus teacher that I had suffered through geometry with and I had fulfilled the math requirement for college, so I opted out. I was not required to take any real math in college so I did not.


Scott took various calculus classes in college. Yay him! This gives him the impression that he's better in math than me. You be the judge.


Last night:


Our 5th grader was doing double digit long division and she asked Mr. Math for help. 


Scott to me: "Do you remember the secret to double digit long division?"


Me: "I don't know any secret. It's like single digit, but with 2 digits."


Scott: "It's been a long time since I've done long division. It's like this right?" He then leans over and shows me the paper where he's started a problem like this:

Me: "Why are you starting on the far right?"


Scott: "That's where you start."


Me: "That's not where I'd start. I'd do it like this.":

I started at the furtherest left that the 6 was divisible into like you are supposed to.

Scott then tries to complete the problem his way and realizes he's.... wait for it....WRONG.

Me: "How sad is it that I'm feeling totally superior right now?"

Scott: "I'm glad you get to feel like that for once."

While all this was going on the girl, our 5th grader, is saying things like:

"Give me back my paper."

"This isn't helping me."

We ignored her of course because what mattered was which one of us was right.

About 5 minutes later Scott bested me on a chemistry question so my superiority in the realm of 5th grade homework was short lived. 

It was lovely while it lasted.

peace & love ;-)

I Could Cut A Bitch

I am so fucking crabby today for no actual reason that I can pin point. I have had some idiocy and annoyances cross my path today, but no more so than most other days. It's the kind of crabby, bitchy if you will, that you feel more in your loins than in your head. It rises up through your chest and tries to escape out of your mouth and you have to choke it back. You have to repeat things in your head like "chill out", "don't react", "take a breath", "you are bitchy for no reason", and "DO NOT REACT!". While the likelihood that other people are being douches is high, your normal ability to deal with such douchery is replaced by the urge to freak the fuck out. 


DO NOT SAY IT! DON'T EVEN THINK IT! I am absolutely not on/about to get my period. That is such a cliched, bull shit, male-centric thinking. I expect better of you people, dammit! I know that I'm not about to bleed out, because I don't even get periods anymore. So there! Thanks to my Mirena baby IUD, which by the way is better than sliced bread. I'd slice my own bread for eternity rather than bleed and cramp for 1 out of every 4 weeks. Hands down. No contest. 


The crabbiness as it were started this morning at 5 a.m. when I was actually sleeping and was awoken mid-dream by Scott telling me that the girl had been in the shower since 4 a.m. What the fuck man? I don't care! I'm asleep! 


My irritation continued to fester during Kindergarten centers (5 & 6 year olds are so self-centered), it started escaping during a draining game of Qwirkle (more 6 year old fun), and it came spilling out during the girl's baton "practice time" (you can make special arrangements and you can lead a twirler to the gym, but you can't make them have a productive practice). 


I possibly over-reacted a bit both during the Qwirkle and the baton. Is it bad parenting to tell your 6 year old you're not going to play games with him anymore if he keeps peeking at your tiles and that it's bad strategy to keep turning in all your tiles when you clearly have moves you could make and to hurry it up already? What about if instead of the normal yelling that falls on deaf ears, you just sigh and exhibit disappointment and hurt that your tired child who is on her 4th day in a row of baton practice isn't giving 110%? 


It's still January and I may already be out of the running for Mother of the Year. Bollocks.


Did I mention that, because apparently I've been bad and karma wants a good laugh, Scott, who almost never works late, is working late tonight so it's just me and my rapscallions my lovely offspring till bedtime and beyond? 


I may or may not have come home and started eating powdered chocolate frosting mix with a spoon. 


I may or may not be considering starting dinner early so I can open wine to use in a sauce and then pour myself a glass. It's common knowledge that once you start preparing dinner, it's okay to have a drink. What? Just in my family, then?


To be fair, even though I don't ovulate or cleanse my uterus, I do notice I still have some occasional hormone and mood issues. So, that actually probably could be the issue. Maybe I shouldn't have been so quick to jump down your throat? I apologize. 


I would go apologize to the kids, but they are separated and in time-outs for a very legitimate reason I assure you.


peace & love :-)

Preaching To The Choir / Tips For Drinking Wine & Coffee On The Go

A lovely post entitled The Uppers & Downers of Parenting (Or, Coffee & Wine) by Amber Dusick was brought to my attention yesterday by several sources. It's quite funny as it's so true and I found myself nodding and saying 'yep' in between chuckles. I was reminded of the post this morning while admiring the Keurig Coffee Maker the kids and I got Scott for his birthday. Here it is with the kick ass wine opener I recently got for my birthday. Who knew kitchen appliances could look so sleek and sexy? Can you hear them saying 'come hither'? I can.

Coffee and wine are staples for Scott and I. If we are going on a trip, the availability of good coffee and wine at our destination is of much discussion (good wine being defined by: do we like it? we don't know jack about the actual quality of wine, we are actually pickier about the coffee than the wine). If we don't think the quality and quantity will be adequate upon arrival, then we bring it with us. We have been known to grind and bag coffee to bring to people's houses (not if we are going for dinner, but when we are staying overnight and have any reason to believe that it's even slightly possibility the coffee situation will be less than optimal). Better safe than sorry. 


While the pre-measured and ground baggies of coffee have the potential to offend, I care not. On the other hand, showing up to someone's house with wine is perfectly acceptable and appreciated so no problem there. I suppose some people might be offended like Mormons or alcoholics, but it's not like I would expect them to drink any with me.


When checking into a hotel, it is imperative to familiarize oneself with the location of the nearest Starbucks. I will drink what is in the hotel room usually putting both the packet of regular and of decaf in the mini coffee maker at the same time in an effort to make the coffee bold enough to drink, but that's only useful as a stop gap measure until real coffee can be acquired. Usually it's good to bring your own bottle of wine to the hotel especially if you'll be staying on the property or are in a walking/taxi type city. Don't forget your opener.


When going on a cruise, check the cruise line's official alcohol policy and then check cruise message boards to see how much and of what type of alcohol people are actually bringing on board with them. Bringing bottles of wine and/or vodka in your camelback (looks like water) go a long way towards taking the sting out of your bar bill at the end of the voyage. Again, don't forget your opener. The coffee situation on a cruise ship can be worrisome. It seems that most ships now have a fancy pay extra for coffee shop area. On our last cruise we bought the coffee package and had punch cards. Well worth it.


When going to your in-laws for a week where you MIL drinks decaf and your FIL doesn't drink coffee, BRING the baggies of coffee. Also, prior to departure determine the location of the nearest Trader Joe's to your in-laws home for wine purchases. If the nearest TJ's is not so near, it's best to stock up and bring it with you. You don't want to be rude and drain their supply.


If you are arriving at a lake cabin shared by a wide array of family members, do not assume that the coffee grinder you clearly remember leaving on the counter the summer before will still be there. Waking up to find that you have a coffee maker and coffee beans, but no grinder and you are 30+ minutes away from a Starbucks or a retail establishment that might have a grinder they are willing to sell you is a real pisser. Trust me on this.


When choosing a hotel to book for a week for your child's sporting event across the country that you must fly to and where you may or may not have a rental car and access to purchasing wine and an opener for your room, do be swayed by the afternoon snack & drink spread (including wine) in the lobby of only one of the possible hotels and book there. This may allow you to cling to your sanity. 


You're welcome.


Peace & Love ;-)

No...Wire...Hangers!

While I was with the girl at her activity yesterday afternoon, Scott and the boy ran a couple errands including going to the market. 


Greatly appreciated. 


BUT, when I got home and walked into the pantry, I saw... brace yourself... BOXES ON THE SHELVES. Multiple boxes of cereal and granola bar boxes. WTF dude?!? 


Boxes of food in the pantry is normal you say? Not in my pantry. Not anymore. Not since the the Great Pantry Moth Invasion and War of 2011 which you can read about here. I have officially declared Victory in the war, but I will remain forever vigilant. I will not go back to non-sealable containers, bag clips or boxes sitting on the shelves. Boxes may seem innocent, but they are in fact very good hiding places for pupae containing cocoons. Not gonna do it. Would not be prudent. Everything goes into clear sealable containers or thick Ziploc bags. EVERYTHING!


So upon spying the boxes I say very lightheartedly: "You guys broke the pantry rule. There are boxes on the shelves." 


The boy then says: "We know, but we didn't know how you'd want it done so we left the boxes for you."


Six! The boy is six. Oy!


What I then did was repackage the food appropriately without comment, but what was going on in my head was a full on Mommie Dearest style rant.


NO...MORE...BOXES...IN...THE...PANTRY...EVER!


Peace & Love ;-)

No Holiday Card For You!

3 years ago I stopped sending Christmas cards. We were in the midst of upheaval and transition and sacrifices had to be made. Those cards were the first thing to take a hit. BIG time and money saver. I originally thought that it would be a 1 year card hiatus, but I have not be inspired to go back to my old ways. I post a picture and a message on facebook where I am connected to most of the people I would send cards to and my mom puts my whole family on her card so all the relatives can see just how adorable my kids are. All bases covered.

This year though after my mom put together her card, I almost wanted to send one of my own. She has a card with a group picture that includes my family of 4, my siblings and my parents. She lists our names and a very brief description, i.e. Scott (CEO), brother #2 (substitute teacher), etc. It's a lovely card. 

Some of us thought she should use some other descriptions. Brother #2 requested to be listed as "nomad" which is as true as the substitute teacher thing and Scott had a different suggestion which means basically the same as CEO, but much funnier. 

Mom wasn't having any of our tomfoolery and sent out her appropriate, normal version of the card. Thus, leaving me with the urge to do an alternate one. As I didn't really want to go through the hassle and expense of doing an actual card, I'm doing it here:

Lil Tirade (Bon Bon Eater)
Scott (HMFIC)
The Girl (Professional Eye Roller)
 The Boy (Furniture Stuntman)
 Sugar (most ironically named cat ever- she will cut a bitch!)
Barley (his New Year's resolution is to become fatter than Garfield)
Z (professional attention seeker [family dog. not pictured as she's on vacation at my parents again])

Merry Festivus!

peace & love :-)

p.s. Thanks to my family for donning disguises and posing in front of the tree at 6:30 yesterday morning, after I came bounding down the stairs shouting, "I have a really funny idea!" I may also have said something like, "I'm turning 40 in a couple days. Humor me!" 

The girl did point out the irony of posing for a picture for a blog she's not allowed to read. Maybe I'll let her read this post. It's pretty tame. Well, except for her father being the HMFIC. Never mind.

It's the most wonderful time of the year?

18 days until Christmas. 


It's crunch time people. 


The convergence of holidays and birthdays makes the end of October through mid January the busiest chunk of the year at my house, but like lots of folks Thanksgiving thru Xmas is a marathon that feels like a sprint. We have the usual stuff plus my birthday (7 more days in my 30s) and the boy's birthday plus 3 extended family birthdays.


I've started shopping, we have the tree and the tree is decorated as is the interior of the house.


So all I have left to do in the next 17 days is: 


Finish shopping, start wrapping, finish wrapping, deliver gift tree gifts, get pap smear and mammogram, bake cupcakes for the boy's birthday at school, hang the outside lights, get the girl to volleyball, attend school holiday dine out, get the girl to baton, get the girl to a lacrosse clinic, bake a rum cake, go to holiday party, get the boy to basketball, drive around pointing and ohhing at other people's lights, find someone to switch classroom workdays for the boy's classroom so I can go on the girl's field trip, go on field trip, attend the girl's band concert, get hair cut and colored, have birthday dinner with friends, celebrate festivus (When is festivus again? I don't want to miss the airing of grievances. I wonder where I put that pole?), attend neighborhood Santa Parade, help the girl finish her sewing projects for her friend gift exchange, send books with the kids for their holiday book exchanges, turn 40, go to the City for my birthday, shop with Mom & sister & the girl for said birthday, have birthday dinner with Dad, more baton, more basketball, celebrate the boy's birthday, go to cookie party, bake more cupcakes for the boy's birthday party, have seven 5/6 y/o boys over for the boy's pirate birthday party, bake 2 more rum cakes, pack car, go to parents house on Xmas eve, and stay up after kids to fill stockings and put out Santa gifts. 


All that while still doing the 2 part time jobs, the laundry, the cleaning, the lunch making and on and on.


Your list is probably similar.


We're nuts, right?


Every fucking year I am in this predicament. A bunch of wonderful individual events slammed together in a few short weeks.


But, what's a super mom to do? Cancel Xmas? Hell no! This super mom is going to bitch a bit on her blog, pour some wine and soldier on. I'm the mom and that's my job. 


A few years ago we went to the Caribbean for Xmas which was fanfuckingtastic and I would do it again in a heartbeat. Seriously. Are you reading this Scott? Make the reservations! But, it didn't get me out of getting a tree, decorating the house and shopping for Xmas gifts that could be easily schlepped in a suitcase. We didn't leave until the 21st so perhaps that was the flaw in the plan. Maybe if we leave earlier we could skip the normal holiday trappings. So, the day after Thanksgiving thru New Years next year in the Caribbean it is! Solid plan! I'm all in. Scott? 


Happy Fucking Holidays! xoxo


peace & love :-)!


p.s. As I was editing this:


Scott: I have to figure out if I'm getting gifts for anyone in the office.


Me: Don't add it to my list!


Scott: Okay.


Me: Go ahead and do it if you want, but leave me the fuck out of it. Remember last year, when I made all those mini rum cakes at the last minute after running all over town searching for the pans? That nearly drove me over the edge!


Scott: But now we have the pans (giant idiot grin).


BAH!!

Dearest Sleep Fairy....

Dearest Sleep Fairy (or do you prefer Goddess of Sleep?),


Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You are the best! I had no idea you were listening last night when Scott and I were bitching about our sleep issues. You are a really careful listener, aren't you? When I told Scott that I would gladly wake up at 5 a.m., if I could just get through the 3 a.m. & 4 a.m. hours sans tossing and turning and crazy list making and worry, I did mean it. So again, I thank you for making my sleep dreams come true. I slept like a rock through the wee hours of the morning and my eyes popped open at exactly 5:00 a.m. today. Very impressive. 


At the risk of sounding like an ingrate, I would like to amend my 'dream of sleep statement' to say, "I would gladly wake up at 6 a.m., 7 a.m. on the weekends, if I could just get through the early morning hours in a deep unfettered sleep." I fear it's too much to ask and that I'm being greedy, but I cannot stop myself from submitting the request. 


If you can see it in your heart to do this for me, I won't bother you anymore. You can even stop dropping by my house and checking in. I'll be set, the kids have years of magical kid sleep left and Scott's on his own here. He's an adult, he'll have to figure out how to communicate with you directly. This is about me. 


Plus, I might still be holding a tiny grudge from when the kids were babies and waking up multiple times during the night to nurse. The man would sleep through all the various baby disruptions (that were for the most part going on in his bed as we co-slept with each baby) and then ask me in the morning "how was your night?" landing me somewhere between extreme bitterness and murderous rage depending on the day.


I sincerely hope that my longing for sweet heavy slumber hasn't resulted in your annoyance, umbrage, ire or any other type of displeasure. If the 6 a.m., 7  a.m. on weekends, thing is too much, I'll happily stick with the 5 a.m. wake-up. Just please, please, please don't send me back to see 3 a.m. and 4 a.m. I've tried breaking up with 4 a.m. myself and that jackass refuses to take a hint.


Finally, if you see fit to grant my humble request, I'll have your back. Anytime. Anywhere. Just tell me what you need and it's done. As long as it's not illegal. I'm sure I wouldn't sleep well in prison and then all of it would have been for naught. 


XOXO ~LT

All Aboard...

I have a confession. I'm the teeny tiniest bit OCD about my house. It's not that my house is spotless all the time, but I really do enjoy a picked up non-cluttered living space. I have 2 kids, a husband, pets and a life so the house isn't always picked up, but most people who come to my house don't believe that. It's true that 99% of the time if you come to my house it's totally picked up. But here's the thing, 99% of the time I KNOW YOUR COMING and I've just spent the last 5-10 minutes as a whirling dervish cleaning up the house. It makes me tachycardic and fidgety to let someone in the door when there are shoes, blankets and pillows strewn about the floor and there are dishes on the counter. 


Leaving the house for a vacation ramps up my issues. I cannot bear the thought of coming home to a cluttered or dirty house. Not only do I need the house picked up, but I need it cleaned toilets and all. The instant clutter created by returning home from vacation and having the entire contents of the car deposited in the hallway is bad enough, but adding a floor that needs vacuuming or a toilet that needs scrubbing to the homecoming will drive me right over the edge.


I have several friends that share my need to come home to a clean house after vacation. So whether or not most people would consider this normal at least I'm not alone. 


However, the second and possibly nowhere in the neighborhood of normal part of me not wanting to embark on a vacation with a dirty house is... what if due to a horrible accident, I die on vacation and then whoever has to deal with my house after I'm dead walks in on a dirty mess? After one of my friends told me she literally vacuums her way out of the house when leaving for vacation, I felt safe enough to share this with her and she looked at me like I just went off the rails of Ozzy's Crazy Train. Feel free to twirl your finger around by your ear and point at your screen.


I'm completely aware that this is not a rational line of thinking. If I'm dead and Scott and the kids are not, then I'm pretty sure he's not going to notice if the house needs cleaning. He doesn't notice now so why would that change? Plus, obviously, he would be too bereft to care. Ditto with my parents. I don't really know who I think is going to come into my house and start trashing a dead woman for her housekeeping skills or lack thereof. It is incredibly rude to speak ill of the dead after all. Not to mention in this scenario I'm dead and I would not even be capable of caring what people thought about me. I don't much care what people think now, except that I don't want you to think my house is dirty. Which leads us back to square one. 


I know. I know. Cuckcoo! 


While I'd love to take a good hard look at my neurosis with you here, we are leaving tomorrow for a week and I've got some cleaning to do.


Peace & Love :-)

iExcess? nah... iBliss

WARNING: If you aren't an iPhone/iPad user some of this may be Greek to you. It's not as though it's a geek out, because I think true Apple geeks know the technical names for stuff, but nonetheless it is a lot of iStuff rambling.


Last week Scott and I both got the newest iPhone, the 4s. We were going to order them for Christmas, but were more than willing to use the wacky behavior of my 3G as an excuse for Christmas to come early. Scott allegedly actually thought he was reserving one just for me, but then the reservation confirmation looked like there might possibly be 2 under my name at the Apple store so he took time from his busy schedule to show up at the Apple store the next day just in case we had 2 waiting and lo and behold.... 2 pearly white 4s iPhones awaited us. It would have been madness for him to let this fortuitous opportunity pass him by. A slap in the face to karma really, so he went ahead and got one too. 


As predicted, I love love love my 4s. 3G who? The 4s has many a cool feature like Siri, video, a flash, a pull down summary thingy screen, subtle alerts across the top, wallpaper on the home screen, the ability to have multiple apps running at one time, etc., but the bestest thing is how fast it is compared to the 3G. I don't know how much cooler it is than the 3Gs or the 4 cuz I never had those, but it kicks the ass of the 3G. 


Scott was initially smitten, but his 4s has done some weird stuff with his car blue tooth and with group iMessaging and he began to feel a little grumbly towards it. 


I don't know if iMessaging is new with the ios 5 upgrade or if it was previously on the 4 or what, but we didn't know what the hell it was. Apparently it's text messaging between iPhone users that doesn't count against your number of texts, which is actually very helpful to someone still on the 200 texts for $5 plan like us, but it's in the regular texting spot. The phone just knows if the device you're texting to is iMessage capable which totally weirds me out. 


Anyway... when Scott texted me it came through as an iMessage, but said it was from me not him. Zoinks! I didn't know one could text themselves. That's totally going to be my new go to line when I'm pissed, "Go text yourself!". Then he texts a friend that apparently also has iMessaging who says the text looks like it's coming from my email and when he texts back it goes to both Scott and my phones. WTF man? So it seems you can do group iMessaging which is fine, but Scott's phone somehow had my info in it. Maybe it has to do with the iCloud except we did set up different iCloud accounts. 


iPhone.


iMessage.


iCloud.


iDon'tKnow!


Despite a few hiccups, I think Scott, who not only had just the 3G, but was so many updates behind that he couldn't text pictures or organize apps into groups (I wonder how he even got through the day?) is pretty pleased with his upgrade.


Our 5 y/o is thrilled because he now has my old 3G to use as an iTouch. He doesn't even care that the volume button is long gone and you have to stick your nail in there to adjust it or that the screen shut off button works on it's own terms or that the apps run kinda slow. He only cares that he has his own iThing as his sister has had an iTouch for 2 years and sometimes she would let him touch it, but only briefly and in a super controlling way. He now has his apps organized to his satisfaction and has his own music. He is working on a hip hop routine to the theme from Ghostbusters (legendary hip hop tune that it is) and knows how to make the song loop over and over and over and over again which is hell awesome. 


Our family of 4 now has a MacBook, an iPad2, 2 iPhone 4s', 1 iTouch, 1 3G masquerading as an iTouch and 1 unused/being saved as a back up 3G.  I think it's safe to say we are an Apple family. We drank the Kool-Aid. Excessive you say? Nah, we could actually use a second iPad2 and Scott also thinks we need Apple TV... whatever that is.


Peace & Love :-)

You Look Tired

It's time to face facts. I need eye cream. Specifically the get rid of dark circles and reduce puffiness kind. Consider the evidence:

• In the only recent pictures I like of myself I'm wearing sunglasses.
• I never actually got sick that time I was so happy to blame my dark circles on illness.
• I've started using concealer under my eyes before going to the gym to teach whether the class is at 6 a.m. or 6 p.m.
• I've started using concealer under my eyes after evening showers even if I'll be home and only be up for short time before going to bed.
• There's been a recent run on the "you look tired" comments in my direction. I am tired a lot of the time, but not more so than I've generally been for the last 11 years.
• I've been scaring the hell out of myself in the mirror with alarming frequency. 

I finally broke the cycle of denial and googled "dark circles under eyes" and wowwie wow wow there is a veritable cornucopia of information. The bad news is my dark circles and puffiness seem likely related to age and loss of collagen or something like that. The good news is that there's no shortage of products for me to throw my $ at and hope they help. There's a lot of really expensive products available and a lot of testimonials to go with them. I will shell out more than seems reasonable for something that works, but am not sure how to determine what will work for me without actually trying the creams. Catch 22, no? 

I clicked some links. I read some reviews. I searched through my drawers and came up with a few tiny sample size eye creams which I promptly slathered under my eyes. Then I went to Target and got Olay Definity Eye Illuminator. It was $23 for .5 FL OZ which is pretty cheap for an eye cream with good reviews as far as I can tell. I'll let you know what I think of it. Unfortunately, I believe it is supposed to take a couple weeks of use before seeing results. You'll be shocked to know, patience is not my strong suit. 


If I don't see results, I will have Scott research what I should use. While he doesn't know bupkis about beauty products, he can research the hell out of anything. He will check endless websites, reviews and message boards. It's a fact that I'll look at a couple of choices (or only one if it's truly fabulous and I know I need it) and make a decision. Scott will look at every choice imaginable, weigh all the options, discuss all the options with whomever will feign interest and then finally make a choice. Eye cream research might not be as exciting as TV, phone, car or vacation research, but I'm sure he'd do it if I asked. Cause he loves me and I did just write that post about how awesome he is and he wouldn't want to sully his image on my blog. 


Peace & Love :-)

My Scott Is An Awesome Scott

This morning as he's getting ready for work:


Scott: "Is there a pile of clean underwear hiding somewhere?"


Me: (Seriously contemplating if there could possibly be a pile of his clean underwear somewhere as on occasion clean clothes live in baskets in the laundry room for days on end.) "I don't think so. I remember feeling so proud that I finally got all the clean clothes put away yesterday." 


Scott: "This is my last pair."


Me: "Well I guess I'll either do laundry today or buy you some new ones."


Scott: "Fair enough."


How awesome is that? Seriously! It didn't even seem like he was trying to stifle the urge to say "What is it you do all day while I'm at work and the kids are at school?" He has never once said anything of the sort. 


While at times over the years, I've felt frustrated that he doesn't lavish compliments on me, I will say his easy going personality and ability to go with the flow and not sweat the small stuff is really really fantastic. I've given him ample opportunities to demonstrate frustration and overreact, but I can't remember him taking one. Not that we've never fought, just not about me being a bone head.


Like the time I dropped the lap top and he didn't say out loud what an idiot I was. He laughed, got me us an iPad, and got the laptop fixed.

Then there was the time I booked our vacation for the wrong week and he laughed and poured me another glass of wine. 

Additionally there was the time 13 years ago when I knocked the side mirror off the car as I backed out of my own garage. He laughed then too. Although, I believe he called me a dumb ass while he was laughing. That was less awesome. I think replacing the dumb ass comment with the glass of wine was a move in the right direction.

Also, there was the time when our youngest was 3 months old and we were flying to Mexico on a 6 a.m. flight. We had been dropped off at the airport and I only brought a photocopy of the baby's birth certificate (this was before a passport was required to go to Mexico) instead of a certified copy. I distinctly remember choosing to bring the photocopy so that there was no danger of losing the certified copy. Very flawed logic. A mother with a 3 month old probably shouldn't be allowed to make important decisions like that. They weren't going to let us on the plane. Meanwhile our then 5 y/o started puking. I was ready to lose my shit and Scott calmly worked with the airline people to call a notary to rush to the airport to notarize the photocopied birth certificate and we made the flight. I don't think either of us was laughing until the next day over margaritas, but he never so much as gave me a dirty look about my potentially disastrous blunder.

I'm not really a big hot mess, I just play one here on the blog for your amusement. I'm actually rather competent. Too competent in fact. I really need to stop it. It leads to people asking me to do stuff and high expectations. 



Peace & Love :-)