Singing Through Everyday Life

This Mom can only take so much Wheels on the Bus, Pat-a-Cake, and even holiday favorites like Jingle Bells. Sometimes "hits" from my past pop into my head -- most of these need to be transformed into an edited version before I can sing them in front of my children. So I edit them alright!

Songs I have re-written to be more functional in my Mommy-Life:

(I wish I was more "techy" because I would just put the clips of the songs on here. But I am not, so these are the long versions. But you get the picture.)

Can't Touch This

It all started when I was trying to get PJs on at night and MC Hammer came to my head. Instead of "Stop! Hammer time!" I fired out, "Stop! Jamma Time!"

Shots!

LMFAO Shots, Shots, Shots came to my head in a desperate moment when I was trying to get the girls out the door. They needed socks and shoes on but they were running in opposite directions and I couldn't catch them. So what comes to my head? I started singing: "Socks! Socks! Socks! Socks-Socks-Socks!"

Move B#%^

Ludacris sings a song called Move B!@#$ Get Out the Way. This song comes in handy when we are running late in the morning. The new words (and Kate sings them on her own now) are "MOVE CARS GET OUT THE WAY! GET OUT THE WAY, CARS! GET OUT THE WAY!" Sometimes she adds, "Mama comin'!"

Call Me Maybe

Call Me Maybe is sometimes used..."Hey! I just changed you! And this is crazy! You have poopy! Come here Baby!" I know. I have issues right?

Mean

My personal favorite: Taylor Swift's Mean. We don't have to change the words to this one at all! This is sung A LOT at our house because it always come to my head when the girls go in time-out. "Why ya gotta be so..." and Kate finishes it off with a smile and a "...MEAN!"

Now you have another look into my weird mind! Tell me someone else out there does this?!

Fly on the Wall

Kate is dancing around the living room in nothing but winter boots -- literally naked and wearing snow boots. I wonder what someone would think if they came to the door right now. For us, this is the uncomfortable norm of living with two toddlers. Others have said they would kill to be a "fly on the wall" of our home for one night. 

So here it is. Your preview. A typical Sunday morning (just the morning because reading about a full day would exhaust you) in our life. Not too exciting, but always entertaining. 

7:00

"Wake up Ned!" This is what you hear every morning. Kate wakes up first and yells to her sister. Weekend rule is that they don't get out of bed until 7:30 on the weekends. It is how we pretend to sleep in. They spend the next 30 minutes tossing toys from crib to crib, ripping the blinds off the windows, pounding on the wall, jumping on their mattresses, and singing versions of the ABCs and Twinkle Little Star. 

7:30

I open the door to let the Reds escape. Someone always has poop in the morning...always. And the smell hits you like a brick wall the moment you open the door. At this point they have found some sort of paper product to shred and throw upon the floor -- wipes, a book, a magazine, etc. Kate goes potty and gets off the toilet before she is finished. This is why our bathroom always smells of urine.

7:45

Dad decides to attempt breakfast. This is never good and always requires a lot of support (but we have to let him try). As I am showing him how to pour the egg into the pan, I hear giggles from the bathroom...not good. Neddy is sitting in the sink (again), Kate has the water on (yes, Neddy's clothes are soaked), and both girls have decided to brush their teeth...with Neddy in the sink. I am so proud of them for having such good oral hygiene. 

8:30

Today, Kate has decided that she no longer likes eggs. Or meat. Or cheese. She just likes ketchup. So she eats the ketchup and feeds the rest to the dog. Neddy has decided that her omelet makes a good hair conditioner (must be that protein). She also has poop...again.

9:00

The ketchup queen needs a bath and the omelet conditioner should be washed out. I start the bath. Kate throws her stuffed animal in the tub even though I have asked her (repeatedly) to not do that. Kate dumps a bucket of water over Neddy's head. Neddy cries, hits, and then spits in Kate's face. Kate tattles and repeat cycle. On this special day we had a first: Neddy pooped in the tub when I was drying Kate off. Kate saw the poop and said, "Oh! Nice circle Ned!" Yes, the poop was in a circular pile. I am so proud -- my girls are celebrating each other's successes and they know their shapes!

9:30

Kate tries to convince me that she doesn't need underwear or pull-ups. She wants to "wear nuffin." So the little nudist opts for winter boots and begins to dance in the living room to Ke$ha's Tic Toc. Daddy is uncomfortable and making comments about him really not wanting her to get used to dancing in the nude. Neddy spins in circles until I realize that she has poop...again. I go to change Neddy who flops all over the place. Seriously it is like trying to put a diaper on a fish and at the end the diaper is all kitty-wampus but it is on.

10:00

Both kids are in time-out. Kate hit Neddy in the face for looking at her. Neddy tried to bite me because I brushed her hair. Everybody has clothes on...finally but I am still trying to brush Kate's hair. She starts screaming "OWOOWWWOOO" before I even touch the brush to her hair. Gilbert is outside and body-slamming the back door. Brent is at the grocery store because I insist on having a Bloody Mary today to get me through the Packer game (don't worry, I have my jersey ready.) I tackle Kate to the couch and begin to brush her hair. Neddy is climbing the diaper changing table. I get her down. She spits and begins to climb again. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Then she notices that Mom and Dad's bedroom door is open. She finds Mom's shoes. Bonus!

10:30

We tried to insert church into this space. It has not gone well. After we hit the old woman in the back of the head with a hard plastic bunny, we decided to do our prayer service from home until we get things under control. 

Dad is back so I decide to shower. I lock the door. I try to relax and enjoy my alone time in the bathroom while both kids are crying and screaming outside the bathroom. "Mom! Mom! Momma! MMMMMAAAAMMMMAAAA! Mom. Mommy. Mama. MOM! I need come in!" I decide make-up is overrated. So are regular clothes so I put my jammy pants back on along with my Clay Matthews jersey. Kate takes the opportunity to use my deodorant as an art tool and draws on the wall with it. Neddy is jumping on the bed. Daddy is doing laundry. Gilbert is laying in the middle of the clean clothes. The girls realize Daddy is doing laundry so they make way for the laundry basket and the neatly folded piles of clothes.

It is snack time. Neddy is standing in the dog water dish with her shoes on and screaming "TREEEAT!" 

11:00

Mommy guilt takes over and I feel sorry for my kids because I don't do any of the cool things that stay-at-home moms do. I decide to make up for it by doing an art project. Today we are going to make hand print turkeys. Everyone is excited for paint. I cut a shirt in half and put it on the girls for paint smocks. Things start off well because I start with Kate. We make 6 turkeys and then I let her "free-paint" (but she gets bored of paper and turns to the wall)  while I help Neddy make turkeys. I remember why I hate doing art projects because they never turn out the way that I plan. Neddy smears paint all over her face, hair, wall, clothes, etc. but she is happy. Her turkey looks like a brown smudge. I clean them in the kitchen sink for the next 30 minutes. I realize that we have just done 30 minutes of clean-up for a 6 minute art project. 

11:36

Kate wants a corn dog for lunch, not a hot dog. But she peels off all of the "bread" from the corn dog. Neddy eats an entire corn dog, a pile of green beans, a slice of cheese, and a cup of soy milk...and then poops again.

12:00

Kick-off for the Packer game. The moment of the day where Daddy becomes slightly useless. He can't see or hear anything other than Packers. Kate is trying to cheer with him so she just keeps screaming "Go Double D!" We are on defense. I decide to put Neddy down for her nap. Kate wants to use the iPod before nap. She tries to make things interesting by playing Peek-a-boo Barn with her nose. She is using her nose to tap the screen instead of her finger. 

12:30

Nap time for Kate. I put her to bed with her puppies, Ga's, pillow pet, bear, 2 towels, 5 blankets, 1 quilt, etc. She screams "Luv you guys!" which is what Daddy says to the girls when he puts them to bed. 

Now I sit with my Bloody Mary rehashing the morning for you. I am exhausted and I think I will take a nap so we can get up and repeat at 3:00.

I Can't Handle Even One More Day

Mom always said, "Two things you don't ever talk about with a mixed group are politics and religion. These subjects can change the mood very quickly and make new friends into enemies." 

Mom is a wise lady. However, no one seems to listen anymore. Politics is all I hear about on the news, commercials, phone calls, Facebook, etc. And most don't seem to be as irritated as me. Can you imagine the stir it would cause if the Pope called your house and wanted to talk religion with you? Yet, no one seems to be too upset when Bill Clinton calls to discuss voting on Tuesday. What's the difference? 

I don't think there is one.

So this isn't a blog post to tell you who I am going to vote for or who I think you should vote for. It is just to show you that all of these campaign ads/phone calls, etc does nothing but waste time, waste good commercial space, waste of money, and sometimes even waste friendships.

I was reading Time magazine and came across an interesting study by Georgia State University. 
They "gathered conservative and liberal students to test their resistance to factual information. First they as the group to read an article that included President George W. Bush's claim that his tax cuts had increased revenue for the U.S. Treasure which was provably false. they they added a factual correction: the Bush tax cuts led to a three-year decline in tax revenue from $2 trillion in 2000 to $1.8 trillion in 2003. The correction worked among liberals, but among conservatives it produced a curious backfire effect: conservatives were nearly twice as likely to say the Bush tax cuts increased revenue after they had been told this was not true."

They did the same study with a distortion to the liberals and it had the same effect. 

So, basically people are set in their ways and they are only going to take in the information that supports what they believe about their candidate. That means they aren't going to change their mind on which candidate is best to lead the US for the next four years. That means, 
STOP TRYING TO CHANGE THEIR MINDS! 
STOP CALLING
STOP STUPID ADS WITH SWEAR WORDS IN IT
STOP FACEBOOK RECOMMENDING PAGES TO ME
STOP FACEBOOK POLITICAL POSTS
AND PLEASE, just go back to funny cat videos or other make-me-laugh posts.

Let Me Tell You About Cool!

It was a chilly high of 45 degrees yesterday. I had recess duty and, just like every school year, there were several kids outside in short sleeves, shorts, dresses without tights, etc. Their reason? Winter coats are not cool. According to one student, "They make you look all chubby and fat!"
My poor, poor third graders! What has society done to you already?

For the last three years I have written persuasive pieces in my classroom trying to get kids to wear coats/hats/boots/(God-Forbid) snow-pants out to recess. Although I think I am a pretty adequate writer, I have convinced few students. The desire to be cool in front of your peers is a much stronger argument.
This year a will be taking a different approach...

You want to look cool? Let me tell you about cool! Let me paint a picture of how I used to dress to go outside and play:

First, I wore a blaze orange hat. I had to wear this because most of my play time was at Grandma's house up north. We had to wear something blaze orange so the hunters would easily spot us. Now blaze orange was a little easier for my camo-clad brothers and male cousins to match with but for a girl, blaze orange does not match pink or purple. At. All! But I sucked it up because I would rather the hunters not mistake me for a deer.

Second, I wore cotton in my ears. I am not entirely sure why Grandma had us wear cotton in our ears. I think it has something to do with ear infections. I am pretty sure she still wears cotton on very cold days. The purpose is not the point. The fact is, Grandma says "wear cotton" so we wore cotton....and we ROCKED it!

Third, Great-Grandma knitted our mittens for us. Every time we went to Great-Grandma's house she would grab a scrap or some cardboard and trace our hands so she could knit mittens for us. So sweet of her. But Great-Grandma was practical. She used the yarn that was on sale. The yarn that no one in their right mind would pay full price for. The yarn that often had a vomit color to it. This did not match blaze orange, pink, or purple. But you wore them because that is what you had and Great-Grandma made them for you. (I question the resistance to water with these mittens still. The moment you touched the snow, you got wet, which made you toss your mittens off and get cold anyway....)

Fourth, and most popular, I wore bread bags in my boots. This kept my feet/socks from getting wet if I had a leak in my boot. The bread bags were always longer than my boots so I was able to fold them over the outside and display the Wonder Bread logo proudly.

Now, my third graders, what do you say you toss on that North Face fleece of yours and the matching hat  and mittens, and head outside to play? Stop trying to be cool, we all know my cousins and siblings and I have set the bar pretty high.

There Are Signs Everywhere...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WH5AOrKAHhE

Maybe I started believing in signs when the hopeless romantic in me saw this movie in 1997. Maybe it was earlier than that? 

All I know is that I am a highly superstitious believer in signs and searcher for patterns in a usually random life. 

This may seem like an over-exaggeration of my life, but it is not. 
I once had a pair of Packer underwear. I noticed that each time I wore them, the Packers lost. Clearly it was the fault of the undergarment and not the professional athletes' ability to score touchdowns and hold the other team from scoring points. I threw the underwear out immediately upon realizing this pattern. 

This season I noticed that our losses were due to the fact that I did not put my Clay Matthews jersey on approximately 1 hour before the game. Contrary to belief, the loss in Seattle was not due to the replacement refs, it was my own negligence that warranted the loss.

I see real signs and am superstitious about other things in life too, not just our professional sports teams. When we first found out the price of adoption and IVF (starting at $17,000 each), we were panicking about how we would ever be able to support such a thing. We questioned whether or not this was the right choice for us. Then, I made an extreme error when taking out my student loan for graduate school. I didn't understand that you weren't supposed to take out the full amount that they offered you. I didn't realize that they gave you over the amount one would need to pay for tuition and books. Imagine my surprise and excitement when I was issued a check for $17,000. 

Crazy, right?

Well, there was another sign at my house this weekend (or maybe an omen). The girls were playing with the sno-globes in the living room. One was a snowman, one was a winter scene, one was engraved from our wedding, and the last one had four dolphins in it and it said: 
Kate and Neddy 
Family Complete
Guess which one broke?
When we got the dolphin sno-globe from Brent's parents for Christmas I was kind of sad because, really? This is all done? No more babies? I asked Brent's mom what she would do if I miraculously got pregnant at 40 years old (yes, it would be a miracle, but not a surprise because I know this is going to happen to me.) We laughed at the thought of having to buy a new sno-globe.
But now there is a sign.

I explained this to Brent and he told me I was ridiculous. Maybe he is just being realistic because we can't fit another body into our house, maybe he is just being practical because the reality of this being an actual sign that we would have another child is kind of silly.
Then again, this is the man that made me sit in the kitchen during a Packer game because each time I entered the living room something bad happened for our team.

A Mommy House

I like to rearrange my house a couple of times a year. It makes me feel clean and happy and like I can start fresh. It makes hubby feel uncomfortable and crazed but he lets me do it anyway. As of late, I feel more depressed than clean/happy/starting fresh...

Why can't my house look like those really nice, clean, decorated ones in the Pottery Barn? 
How come those kids don't destroy all of the items that are set out for decoration? 

Where do those kids put their toys so that their house doesn't  have the Fischer Price Hell appearance that my house has taken on?

How come those houses aren't surrounded by STICKY and finger-prints? You think I'm joking? Every time I leave my house I feel sticky. I don't even eat breakfast. Sometimes, my kids haven't even had breakfast yet and they are sticky. Yes, I bathe them! They still stick! It's like it comes out of their pores!

Where are the Goldfish crackers on the furniture and why isn't there anything ground into the carpet? I think our vacuum cleaner spits out Goldfish behind me as it cleans because my house seems to be dirtier after I vacuum than when I first started.

I bet those houses smell good too! My house usually smells like dirty diapers. How do they do that?

I know some of you smart mommas/grandmommas will tell me that I will miss this stage someday and I probably will because that will be a sign that my babies are grown and out of the house. Still, wouldn't it be nice to live in a Pottery Barn for a couple of hours instead of a Mommy House?

What I Learned from the NFL Ref Lock-out Part 1

I have given myself some time to heal from the MNF fiasco. As you can see, we are huge sports fans at our house, in our family, and we usually take these losses quite hard...especially hubby. He can be found pacing back and forth wearing the carpet thin during a Packer game. He has gotten better with time. With a loss, he used to pout and act like he was just diagnosed with a terminal illness for at least 3 days and then he would move on just in time for the next game. As of late, he has been able to suffer in silence and then sees that there are much bigger things in life to stress about (he usually chooses gas prices or the ozone layer -- you know, things he can control). 

I am not going to lie, I even felt a little gray cloud following me around in the morning. To make matters worse, I had to go into a room of 24 students. Going to my beloved classroom was not the hard part. The hard part was listening to all of them parrot back their parents' interpretations of the big game. Some parents are pro-Packers, some not.

Then came the moment of truth..."Mrs. Sanderfoot, how did you feel about that game last night?"
As  teacher, I am supposed to teach these children to be open-minded and to accept others and to have good character. So I avoided the question with, "Oh my, what a rough game."
Yet, my buddy Nick pressed on, "But did you think it was a touchdown?"
I avoided further, "It was a tough call to make." In my head all I could think was: No it wasn't. It was so clearly an interception.
Nick still wasn't satisfied, "Mrs. Sanderfoot, did you think it was a bad call? My dad said the refs sucked."

I can agree or I can make this a teachable moment. And this is where I had an epiphany (good word, right?).

I had just read a book to my students about the Girl Who Never Makes Mistakes. The title kind of gives away the plot but the important lesson in the story is that everyone makes mistakes and we need to get a sense of humor about them and move on. Time for the"text to world connection." 

Everyone makes mistakes everyday -- big and small. Now imagine that your mistakes were broadcast on national television and then everyone repeatedly analyzed your mistake for a full week afterward on ESPN and local/national news stations. 

You would see that moment when my mouth can't find the right words, you would definitely see me falling or tripping up the stairs (Grace is not my middle name), you would see me lose my temper with my kids, and even forget to save my receipt from grocery shopping so that hubby  could balance my check-book. While some parts would be quite entertaining for others, I would have to relive those mistakes over and over. 
Now it is obviously easier if people admit that they made a mistake so that we can forgive and try to forget, but who likes to do that.
So that is how I explained it to my students. Hopefully I taught them a little about empathy and forgiveness. And it is a great reminder to myself each time I see that interception....I mean mistake replayed on TV.
Part 2 maybe later....I have to get ready for school. Have a great day!
t

Sweating It Out

Neddy had a doctor's appointment last week. I hate bringing my children to the doctor. They each grow horns and a tail the minute we step through the fascinating motorized-assistance doors. 
Have you ever noticed that the doctor's office is always kept at a steamy 85 degrees? Why do they do this? It is so blasted hot in there and then I get embarrassed because my kids are licking the fish tank or breaking toys so I sweat more. Then I am forced to keep the madness to a minimum in a tiny room for 20 minutes while I wait for the doctor to grace us with her presence. This causes sweat rings to form under my arms and around my neck. I can't imagine what I look like when she finally enters the room.
This particular visit Kate decided to develop OCD and had to wash her hands 50 times. At her 51st request, I denied her and she threw herself on the floor for a tantrum that I have never seen before. She ended up in time out. A second fit started upon reentry to the world when she realized that we were at an appointment for Neddy and the doctor wasn't going to look in her ears. She went back to time out and then screamed, "I TIIIIIRED! I NEEEDDD GO BED! I NEEEED NUKKKK-EEEEEE!!" Awesome. Now the doctor knows that you still get a nuk. Get ready for dirty looks and a scolding.
Then it was discovered that Neddy had a red throat and might have strep. Why didn't I know this? Way to go loser mom. Your kid might be really sick which is probably why she has been so naughty lately. We survived the awesome strep test and then just whined and cried for the remainder of the appointment. Truthfully I got nothing out of it but an increase in my body temperature and lots of pit stains. I couldn't hear anything over the screams and whines of my children. 
We went to the front desk to schedule an appointment for Neddy's 18 month visit. The nurse was trying to schedule me for the wrong month. I tried to explain. She didn't want to hear. I think she just wanted us to leave. Kate was pounding on the fish tank. Neddy was climbing under the tunnels of chairs. It was loud. I was sweating more.
Then came the unexpected. A boy came sprinting at me from across the room. He was the same height as me (which doesn't say much) but clearly a boy. Stepped into my "hula hoop" of space and wiggled his fingers at the base of my neck....and kept wiggling them....and kept wiggling them. All I could mutter was, "OH!"
His mother came across the room with baby on her hip and said, "C'mon. Let's go." 
His fingers kept wiggling. 
I grabbed his hands and said, "You need to go."
Then I stood there feeling assaulted and laughing to myself because the poor kid probably had sweat all over his hands. 
The nurse stared at me and said, "Well! I guess you don't see that everyday!"
"No you don't!"
Then nurse number two proceeded to overreact, "Oh my! That is not okay! You must be so frightened!"
I figured that the boy was somewhere on the spectrum and I tried to explain to her that I am a teacher and have worked with many kids like that but she continued. I couldn't wait to leave. I started sweating all over again.
At first I was irritated with that mother for not saying, "Excuse us" or "I'm sorry" or even offer an explanation like "He has autism."
Now I understand that she was just trying to survive the doctor's office too. I hope her appointment went better than mine!

Appreciate the Quiet

That's right, friends! I am back to school and have added a "hat" back to my everyday wear. That means my posts will be short and few and far between.

It has been an interesting start to the school year. We had some sitter conflicts on the first week back and my wonderful step-mother and dad took the little Reds to their house for a couple of nights to help out. This was a dream come true. I always looked at other families that have grandparents take the kids for the night or week and felt totally jealous. So when this opportunity presented itself, I jumped at it...and then cried my eyes out on the way home.

I am such a dork. I couldn't get over the fact that my backseat was empty of car seats and toys leaving behind only random fruit loops and crusty french fries. There was no Elmo blaring on the DVD players behind my head, and no one was shouting or fighting behind me. It was quiet. Was life this quiet before the girls? Why, oh why didn't I appreciate it more?

So here's the thing, everyone has always said, oh...your life must be so busy with such busy little girls! And I always agreed but deep inside I thought, not really. So maybe I am missing something? Maybe I am not doing something right? 

Well, it turns out, life was CRAZY busy! It took my kids leaving for a few nights to realize that I didn't have to get up at 5 and run around like my hair was on fire to get everyone diapered, changed, fed, packed, and in the car by 7:15. I was actually able to watch TV, exercise, get a coffee from the coffee shop, and be early to work and stay late without guilt! It was amazing! And I did it two days in a row!

But the bad part was my heart hurt. It felt as empty as our backseat. 

So I gladly went to get my girls to fill my life back up again. I was happy as a clam until somewhere in the car around the 45 minute mark of playing "hide-and-seek nuk" in the car. 
Kate hides the nuk cleverly under her leg (yes, each time is in the same spot.) Then she says, "Momma where nuk go?"
"I don't know?"
"Is in oven?" (At home we always look in the oven first...)
"Is it in the oven, Kate?"
"Nope! Is at park on swings?"
"Is it at the park on the swings, Kate?"
"Nope! (giggle, giggle) Is under my weg?"
"Is it under your leg?"
"AAAHHHH!"

Cute, right? Until you hit the 45 minute mark of the game on repeat. Then you would want to jerk the wheel too! Why, oh why didn't I appreciate that quiet more?

My Week

A quick post today with a random thought. 

Just wondering if anyone else has had one of "those" weeks recently. 

The weeks where it seems like every public establishment I have taken my children to they become little monsters whom I swear I have never seen before. 

Honestly, at Kohl's today Kate was shouting things at me that reminded me of the little girl on the Exorcist (the original) and Neddy just whined over and over, "Off! Off! All done, maaaaammmaaaaa!" You would have thought that they put hot coals under the seat of her cart. 

If you didn't hear us out in public this week, you definitely saw us -- like Kate running behind the photo booth at Target then curling up in the middle of the aisle to play hide and seek because if she can't see me, I definitely can't see her, or both of my girls sticking their arms out in the shoe department of Kohl's and knocking all of the boxes off the shelves. 

While walking to our car after each errand, I was pretty sure I could hear the entire store cheering because we finally left.

Anybody with me on this?

Life on the Back Burner

I have been thinking a lot about this post. Again, I am not sure I want to publish this piece but I do feel that it is something I have in common with many of you.  

"Mommy-Guilt" is something that I am all too familiar with and, quite frankly, very intrigued by. I had heard the phrase before becoming Mom but I didn't realize how severe things could really become. 

Guilt has been the new and unwanted friend in my life for the past two years. Not a moment goes by that I don't feel guilty about something. It consumes me in every decision that I make because with every decision I do make there is a choice left on the back burner....usually it is a choice for myself. 

Do I pick exercising, playing with my kids, or preparing for writing conferences the next day? Do I buy a new pair of shoes for school or the hammer that Kate has been wanting (Elmo featured a theme around building things this week)? Do I take a shower in peace or do I get my kids out of their cribs and try to squeeze in a shower (with an audience) later in the day or do I wait until nap time and walk around like a greaser all morning? Do I take a much needed night out with friends or do I stay home with my kids because a sitter is expensive and I should be at home raising my kids -- not someone else?

Now, I know common sense would tell me that it is okay to make choices with myself in mind sometimes, but it is not that simple. Rationality goes out the window when you let the Mommy Guilt in. 

So I find myself trying to do it all: I can exercise at 4:30 in the morning, play with my kids until 7:30 bed time, and then plan for writing conferences after they are in bed. This, again, seems like a logical use of time.... So, for those of you that haven't already tried to be this kind of person, try it. I dare you. You will find there is no time for anything else. Where does poor Brent schedule his time with me? What if his scheduled time with me doesn't work with his routines?

It's a delicate balance and I am still trying to admit that (gulp) I can't do it all. 

How can you help people (Moms and Dads) like me? First, when I try to take exercise out of my day remind me how much I hate my butt. Encourage me to buy the new shoes. The stupid hammer can wait until Christmas. They have too many toys anyway. Don't judge me when I shower and my kids are playing noisily in their cribs. Also, don't judge me on the days where I am a greaser until 1 or the day that you might stop over and everyone (including dog) is in the bathroom screaming because Mom is trying to take a shower. 

Just understand that sometimes I need help getting off the back burner.

Discoveries

I have stated in previous posts that I am not a very good stay-at-home mother. And that truth remains unchanged to date. However, when you live in this house you save a quick buck anyway you can so that means that summers are spent at home so we can save on childcare. Not that our amazing childcare provider is even close to being overpriced, but every little bit helps. 

This summer has been a little easier with the girls because they are getting bigger. They are not on such rigid schedules and they are starting to discover the world. My favorite thing to do is watch my kids learn (it's the teacher in me.) 

Often these amazing discoveries lead to some very quotable moments. I always say that I need to write these things down so I will always remember, but where does one write these things down? A notebook? Really? Is that supposed to stand the tests of time? This has always been something I have struggled with, even as a teacher. You wouldn't believe the oodles of stories and quotes we get from your children! I wish I had a special place to keep them so I could read through them whenever I needed a pick-me-up. If you have any ideas, please share!

I will keep searching but in the mean time, I must share with you Kate's most recent discovery (a bit premature if I might say so) followed by a memorable quote that I will need to write down somewhere as soon as I find where that somewhere is...

We were playing at a friends house this week. Kate and Neddy were excited to have different toys in front of them and playmates other than each other. Being that these friends were boys, added to the excitement because they have cool toys like cars and trucks! 

Just as we were cleaning up to go home, Kate's friend needed a diaper change. Kate explained to him that he needed to go "big brown poop potty" (she knows all the rules but she doesn't follow them.) 

As noted in my post about bathroom time at our house, Kate loves to see poop. She looks in the potty, she wants to see her dirty diapers. I don't know, she's a weird kid, what can I say?

So she, of course, wanted to see her friend's poopy diaper. She peered into her friends diaper and looked up at me with a rather puzzled look. Then she questioned innocently: Silas have a tail?

Oh dear God!

I panicked? What does one say to a two year old? I don't think I want to give her misconceptions that boys have tails?! And she wasn't walking away! She wanted an answer!

So I started, "No Kate. Silas is a boy. He has a......weiner." 

Is that right? Or do I say penis? I call it a weiner, so shouldn't she call it a weiner?

"Landon have weiner too." 

Thank Heavens! The sitter already had this conversation with her!

I thought the talk was done because she went about her business until we got in the car. It was then that we had to have the full conversation:

Girls have toots (a name she came up with on her own). And boys have weiners. Everybody has a butt. 

She has not brought it up since then. I know she is saving it for the most inappropriate time possible.... Heaven help me!

When Will They Know?

Since I have started blogging about our adoption and our busy life, I have had many people tell me that they enjoy reading these entries because it answers questions that they have had about adoption but they have always been too afraid to ask. I hope people now know that I am a pretty open person and am willing to answer most questions, so feel free to fire away at any time.

One question that seems to come up frequently is: When will you tell your girls that they were adopted. The answer to this question, for many adoptive families, is much different than it would have been maybe ten years ago. Adoption has come a long way since then. It is not a "dirty little secret" anymore. Hey if all the celebrities are doing it, it must be cool right?

There is no magic age for us. It is not a surprise that we will unleash on our children when we feel that they are old enough. We will not be sitting down with our girls at any time to say: Hey, guess what?

Adoption is such a big part of our family life that our girls already just know. It is a part of them as much as that beautiful red hair of theirs! Being able to have relationships with their birth families helps with this. We also have different picture books on adoption on their library shelves. One of Kate's favorites right now is something the adoption world calls a Life Book. It is the story of her adoption. It begins with her birthmother and birthfather and ends with our adoption day or Gotcha Day as we call it. Kate likes to identify the members of her large family through the pictures in this book. And in case you were wondering, she still has a baby book with all of her firsts (though I am not as good at keeping up with it as I should be.) 

So, now you can rest-assured that we won't be dropping a bomb of information on them when they hit a certain level of maturity. 

In case you want more, take a peek:

Click here to view this photo book larger

Photo Book Tip: Create an adventurous travel photo album at Shutterfly.com.

A Crap-Ton of Love

We did visits with birthfamilies this weekend. This is part of our open adoption plan that we feel strongly about (we meaning the hubby and me). On the flip side of the coin, this is a part of our adoption plan that a majority of our family disagrees with -- some more vocally than others. I can  also imagine that many of you don't understand why we have chosen to do this for our children.


I wish I could bring the world with me to see what a visit is like. I can explain it as being nothing short of a crap-ton of love topped with pure joy and sprinkled with a few tears. When you feel like that or see someone else feel like that, it is impossible to not go back for more. Seeing these families (we do birthfamily visits in a grand fashion -- all are invited, which includes grandparents, cousins, great grandparents, etc.)  reunited for brief periods of time is like Christmas. Who wouldn't want an extra "Christmas" in the calendar year? Everyone is so happy to see family members that they are able to forget about everything else -- every argument, personality flaw, wrong-doing -- and just focus on being together and soaking up every moment of one another.

I often hear from family and friends that they don't understand why we do this. Some say: YOU are their parents and YOU shouldn't confuse the girls by doing these visits. I also hear others ask: Don't you think you've done enough visits now? Isn't it time to move on? You don't owe them anything...


All I can say to these thoughts is this:
No, my girls aren't confused. They know who Mommy and Daddy are. Just because we visit extended family doesn't mean they will forget that and birthfamilies are respectful enough to keep those boundaries. That is why this relationship works. There is a lot of respect both ways. These visits are also for our girls. They deserve to know where they came from. They need to have the right to ask questions of their birthparents some day and not just hear me speculating about the plans that were made for them. I can't skip out on this experience because I am afraid. When I look at the potential fears in this situation, they seem so silly. What do I think might happen? My kids might not remember that I am mom -- some days I wish! LOL!  Seriously though, my kids are very aware of who Momma and Daddy are. Am I afraid that my kids will want to go live with their birthparents? I am sure they will use that against me someday, especially in high school when I have to stick to the rules. "Fear comes from uncertainty." So I need to make an effort to become familiar with the path we have chosen as a family.


As for not owing "them" anything... THEY GAVE ME THEIR CHILDREN TO RAISE!!! Those babies are my world! I should be doing MUCH more to thank the people that gave me my world. I haven't quite figured out an appropriate gesture for that yet. A thank you card seems too small and I can't afford all of the riches in the world so we will go in the middle, for the time being, and settle for visits. 

I Still Held My Breath A Little

This post is a bit personal and I am not sure yet if I will publish it. I am pretty sure Brent would not like me to publish it, but he doesn't appreciate half of the things I share on here. But, it might be necessary to share because I think this might help someone out there. And for me, writing is a bit therapeutic.


Last week, I was a week late. Now don't get all excited. Notice the past tense in that sentence. "Was" a week late. There are some things that you should know. If Brent and I were to ever conceive a child together it would be a miracle just short of the Immaculate Conception. Our bodies together have a VERY small chance of doing that. Our bodies had a very small chance of even conceiving through IVF. I know this, yet I still held my breath a little. 
My body usually pulls this trick on me every summer just after school gets out. I think it is my way of adjusting from crazy busy schedule to relaxing and enjoying family time schedule. I know this, yet I still held my breath a little.
My body, unlike the rest of me, has never appreciated schedules or being on time with cycles. I know this, yet I still held my breath a little. 


The truth is, every month I hold my breath a little. And I always will. Just because we have made the decision to adopt, just because we have two beautiful children whom I am totally in love with, doesn't mean I have completely gotten over the desire to be pregnant. 


After day 5 of tardiness, I decided to waste my money on a test. I knew what the answer would be, yet I still held my breath a little. 


It would be a horrible time to bring another life into our already too small house. We are just starting to make dents financially. Our house is only two bedrooms and we will be here for awhile yet. My kids are eleven months apart (one and two years old). Life is beautiful and crazy. 


Yet, I held my breath a little. I thought I wanted another baby. Then my mind starting yelling at me. How can you be so selfish? You have two beautiful children at home! Through the adoption process I met so many people waiting to have children (some are still waiting) and I am blessed to have two so quickly. And now I am greedy and want another one. But is that greedy? Some people have 5-6 children. After two, did they get greedy?


I am not sure what the answer is here. But this is what I am telling myself:
No, they are not greedy. No, I am not greedy and selfish. I just need to slow down. I need to appreciate what I have (which I do), AND the road that led me here (which I forget about). I will probably never experience pregnancy (well, I have this theory that I will be pregnant at 40 but that is another story) but through adoption I have gained so many amazing experiences that those who experienced pregnancy will probably never have. 
I need to sit back and enjoy the ride (which I do not control -- DAMN!) and let God lead the way.


Everyday there is more than enough in life to make me hold my breath a little (or a lot!).


Alright...here goes the publish button.....

Stopping to Smell the Roses (Literally)

I love watching my kids learn. Actually, I love watching any kid learn. That is probably why I am a teacher. It appears that Kate has just discovered she has 4 senses in addition to sight. I believe that she had a mission to use all five today when we were doing our weekly family trip to "'Nards and Carget."




Sense of Hearing:
She heard some distant rumbling from a tractor in the yard. She paused, looked at me and said, "I herrrd dat! Heer dat, Momma? Funder! Boom! Boom! Boom! God do dat! In da ky!"
We continued our discussion of funder and other tractor noises as we helped Daddy look for new locks for the doors.


Sense of Smell:
This was my favorite part of the day. As we walked through Menards, Kate noticed a huge floral advertisement on the tiles. All of a sudden I didn't see her toddling next to me so I stopped and turned around to see her sprawled out in the middle of the aisle with her nose to the floor. She was smelling the roses! HA! I thought it was adorable but I am pretty sure everyone around us thought I was doing poor parenting by letting my kid lay on the floor.


Sense of Touch:
This one is constant. Everything she sees she wants to touch. Usually I tell her to go for it, but there are some things that I don't quite know how to answer. For example, "Hot outside, Momma?" "Yes, Kate. It's hot outside." "Touch it?"


Sense of Taste:
This one was my least favorite today. After a brief chat on why she needs to hold Momma's hand or ride in the cart. And a longer extension to that conversation on why she should not hit Momma just because she doesn't hear what she likes.
She then took off across the aisle to a big metal pallet cart as I was looking at the greeting cards. "Kate, c'mon, let's go." "See dat cart, Momma? Touch it? Push it?" "No, baby, let's go." "Lick it?" My head spun around so fast it almost came loose! Yes, my Kate was licking the metal cart and all of the other shoppers were gasping in horror. It was time to go.


I am not saying that I have learned from my daughter that I should go around licking random things, but she sure gave me a great reminder to pay attention to the small things around me! For the little things make life worth living!

They're Doing It Wrong

So....I suck at playing toys with my kids. 
I know this sounds ridiculous. I mean, how can one "suck" at "playing?" 
Well, let me tell you how:
I am a little, shall we say controlling? And obsessive? 
Alright, after you read this you will see that I am much more than a little. But there has to be someone else out there like me. Right? Anyone?


Every time I watch my kids play I have to use all of my will-power to keep myself from correcting them. I just don't understand why they are trying to put a car in the picnic basket when clearly the picnic basket goes with all of the cute little food and cups and plates. The car does not belong there! I know it would be stifling their creativity and imagination if I tried to stop them, so I don't. But I really want to show them that the shovel goes with the sand toys and not with the tea pot.




I think the worst, and I mean absolute WORST time of day for me is when we go outside to play with the sand and water table. This is painful and I cringe just thinking about it. See this?

That's right. There is sand in the water side and water in the sand side. (GASP!)This hurts my feelings just looking at it. But my beautiful baby is enjoying herself so I know I need to let it go. So I will take a deep breath. Close my eyes....


....And wait until they go to bed so I can make my world right again by putting the correct toys in the picnic basket, clearing the sand out of the water side of the table, and placing the teapot in the play house on the stove where it all belongs.


Don't judge. I know there are more of me out there. They just won't admit it! :)

E.N.U.F Already

I will be brief although this is something that I feel quite strongly about....


Dear Advertisers,
Please stop misspelling words on purpose. You are confusing our society's youth and most of the adults. You are also making my job quite difficult when trying to teach my children and others' children how to spell commonly used words. 


                                Sincerely,
 3rd Grade Teacher/Mom/Lover of the English Language




Dear Consumers and Children,
Here is some clarification for you --


This is wrong:

 

An advertiser of graduation decorations did this clever spelling as a reference to graduates. The word is Congratulations therefore the appropriate abbreviation is:
Congrats!


This is also wrong:

Not sure what happened here but I am tired of correcting this word on spelling tests and in stories written by my students. I hope this is redundant, but the correct spelling is MUD with only one 'd.'


This is wrong and not very clever. It just looks ridiculous.

Just because very and berry rhyme does not mean that they need to be spelled the same. 


I hope these examples get my point across. Feel free to email me with any additional questions. Another great resource is Webster's Dictionary.
Have a luvly day. :) (LOL!)

Fantasy Bike Ride

First off, I should tell you that no, this post has nothing to do with Christian Grey. So if that is what you were expecting, stop reading now. (Heh, Heh, Heh)


This post is just a reminder to me that most things do not turn out the way that I had planned. Some things turn out better than what I had planned. Others, like my fantasy bike ride, go horribly, horribly wrong. 


I got a new bike for Mothers' Day. We just picked it out last weekend from Target. Since this summer is Operation Lose My Muffin Top, it was an appropriate purchase. Kate got a new bike helmet (which she never takes off) and a bike trailer for two to attach to my bike. This may seem like a lame gift for a 2 year old but every time I ask her what she wants she says, "Cake! Blue Dora cake!" So she is getting blue Dora cake and a bike trailer.


Anyway, my mind immediately went into fantasy mode...
Our little family was going to go on a family bike ride! My girls were going to ride happily in the bike trailer with their bike helmets. They would probably even have a 'spot of tea and crumpets' back there. Brent would be on his bike and Gilbert would be jogging nicely beside him. And we would all be happily riding off at a leisurely pace into the sunset.


Well, now I know that this is ridiculous and damn near impossible (at least with my little family). Daddy put the bike trailer together while we all waited in anticipation of our first bike ride. This was going to be our "test-ride" before our family bike ride in the evening. I put the girls in the trailer with some water and Gold-fish. I buckled on their helmets and harnessed them in. I strolled down the driveway and into the road. 


Immediately my legs started screaming at me. I know, I know, I was pulling about 50 pounds worth of kids in a trailer. But, I have a sneaking suspicion that my legs would be screaming even if I weren't pulling something...they may have waited until the end of the block though. I switched her down to first gear and slowly inched down the street. I had high hopes that we were going to make it to the CE trail and go for a nice ride. 


Then the screaming started, "NO! MINE! DEEEEE! MINE!" They were fighting over water bottles. Then Neddy got ticked and started bucking in her seat harness. She decided she didn't like being restrained. I looked back and tried to speak in a soothing voice but all that came out was, "YOU BE NICE!" Kate of course responded with, "No Mama!" and "Oh my God!" She knows that this phrase is prohibited but she also knew I couldn't reach her so she sat grinning at me and repeated the phrase. Neddy kept bucking and getting angrier and angrier until she was all red-faced, sweaty, boogery, and of course choking on her booger/Gold-fish combo. I believe the correct term is, "She was a hot mess."


I pulled over the bike and got them situated, pulled out the mushed up crackers and boogers from Neddy's mouth and did what I was threatening in my mind. I will turn this bike around and head home if you two keep this up!


We went home, had lunch, and a nice long nap before trying our actual fantasy bike ride which I was sure would go much better than the first. Because, after all, they were probably just tired. 


Well, no. They weren't just tired. Our second ride, with Daddy and Gilbert went much the same as the first. There was even some biting taking place. And Gilbert, he didn't quite know how to handle being out for a family outing so he went nuts, tried to run ahead of us then wrapped himself around Brent's bike until the chain fell off. Brent swore, kicked his bike in a tantrum and muttered something about, "Go on without me. I am going home." So we continued until I heard the ear piercing screams of, "NO DEEEE! OH MY GOD!!!! MINEEEEE!" And then the choking started again. I looked back and Kate had pulled Neddy's bike helmet over her face and Neddy was MAD! 


As I turned around, my legs cheered because they knew I was going to stop making them exercise. The congratulated my children on a job well done.


Kate keeps trying to get back in that bike trailer but I am not quite ready to tackle that again this week. 


Maybe it all went wrong because I was missing the 'spot of tea and crumpets'?

Caged Animals

We had Neddy's twelve month check-up this week. I am pretty sure that our sitter gave our kids naughty pills or extreme amounts of sugar before I picked them up and hauled them to the doctor's office by myself. Let's just say things didn't go well.

I, of course, was running late and out of gas. Kate, of course, didn't want to go to the doctor. She wanted to "play 'side." Neddy was quietly chilling in the backseat, or so I thought until I heard a loud splash and turned to see that she had ripped the nipple off of her bottle and was happily pouring its milky contents into my school bag where my report cards were now floating.

This isn't even the bad part. We flew into the doctor's office. Only three minutes late! Of course, hubby later pointed out that this was not a victory because we were still, of course, late. And in his mind, late is late. There are no shades of late.

Kate ran for the sick child part of the waiting room. Why is that the only place that they put an enormous fish tank? When my kids are sick, the last thing they want to do is sit quietly and stare at some fish. 

Now, I am pretty sure I know what happens when we show up for our doctor's appointments. I can see the telling faces of the nurses when they call our name. I know when they look at the schedule for the day and see our last name on the list, they groan loudly. When we arrive, late, they peek around the corner to see if I have both red-headed beasts in tow or just the one. When they see that I have both, they groan even louder, crack open a bottle of hard liquor, take a swig and a deep breath, put on a gorgeous smile before walking around the corner and stating our name through clenched jaws. 

Honestly, I don't blame them. Our children at the doctor's office are like little caged animals. We walked into the room and Kate proceeded to open all of the drawers and empty their contents. I tried to stop her but I needed to strip Neddy down to her diaper so that she could get checked out. Next we walked, Kate ran clumsily with her pigeon-toe feet, down the hall to the scale. As Neddy was was weighed and measured, Kate ripped the big paper giraffe off the wall. 


When we returned to the room, Kate immediately grabbed the paper cover and started to unroll it. I asked her to stop. She said, "No mama. Kate do dat." And I placed her in time-out. When I turned back around, Neddy was shredding the paper and eating it. I dug it all out but the doctor was concerned that there was still some in there. Once I proved to her that it was all out, I turned to look at Kate who had ripped the rubber stoppers off of the bottom of the chair and was chewing on them. I took those and then removed her from time-out to clean up the mess. 


When we were finally cleaned up, Kate decided that she was "Baby Tate" and needed to be carried. I tried to hold both children, but "Baby Tate" was angry and tried to push Neddy out of my arms. I set Neddy down and then we had the kicker....
Kate, with amazing speed, pulled my shirt down and said, "Mama boobies." I yanked my shirt up with my free arm, turned crimson and started sweating at the thought of what had just happened. I looked at the nurse, who had a thin smile, and said, "I am so sorry. She has never done that before..."


As she walked out to get Neddy's shots prepared, I stood there dumbfounded at all of the events that had taken place in the last 15 minutes. How did things go so completely wrong? 
We finished the shots and packed everything up. Just when the nurse thought she was done with us for a few months, I said sweetly, "See you next month for Kate's check-up!" (That's right, my kids are 11 months apart....heh heh heh!) I am sure she will buy a bigger bottle of liquor next time. Maybe she will share with me.

Fortress of Solitude?

I used to think that women get hemorrhoids from giving birth to kids. After recent events at our house, I have a new theory. I believe that women (and probably men) get hemorrhoids from just having kids in the house. I have yet to get one but I am pretty sure if this type of toileting experience continues, they are in my near future. 


Currently, using the bathroom is not a solo experience at our home, nor is it a leisure activity. In fact, the bathroom door is usually wide open and there are at least three humans and one dog in there at any given time. 


(If you fear this visual, please stop here. I am pretty sure hubby will be embarrassed by me sharing this but...well, you're all family and friends!)
Let me explain the events that led to this theory....


I had to go to the bathroom. I went in and attempted to lock the door but apparently didn't shut it tightly. After a few seconds of "Mama....are you?" and sobs and pounding on the door, Kate figured out how to open it. "Mee mum!" (Here we come!) 


So in she comes, followed by Gilbert and of course Neddy. Gilbert immediately begins licking my knee. I am not sure what was on my knee. I just knew that his licks and oddly smelling just-ate-a-dead-animal breath were making me uncomfortable so I tried to shove him away. He eventually left but not before he knocked Neddy over, stepped on her, and hit Kate in the face with his tail. This led to tears for everyone and my attempt to make it all better while sitting on the toilet.


Oh, it's not done here. It should be stated that Kate has a recent infatuation with the toilet and more specifically, poop. Every time I change her diaper she wants to "see dat?" and she tries to convince me that her poop is white. She moseyed between the wall and the toilet and tried to push against my back side and began yelling "See dat, Mama? See dat?" on repeat. 


As I was trying to tell Kate no and move her, Neddy b-lined it for the tub -- the bar of soap on the edge of the tub. She likes to bite into the soap. I had to try to reach forward to grab Neddy with my T-Rex arms while Kate was shoving me from the side so she could "see dat poop." I slid her to her bottom and shoved her toward the door but she is like a Weeble. She popped right back up and was at the soap again. As I reached forward again I heard, to my horror, Kate say, "EEEwww. Tinky mama." 


Seriously! Nobody told you to come in here! This is supposed to be a person's one place to get away! It is supposed to be like Superman's Fortress of Solitude! Instead, it is like.....I don't know? A family reunion going horribly, horribly wrong?


In writing, it seems like this all took about 30 minutes (and in real life it felt that way as I was sweating it out trying to take care of business quickly so we could all wash our hands and move on) in reality this was only about 2 minutes in the bathroom total.

Witness Pawns

Over the last year I have gained some Jehovah visitors. The first time they came to our house, they were so nice and I feel like it is rude to tell someone no they can't pray with you or for you. So, I invited them in and accepted their literature (to be placed in the reading material bin by our toilet -- right by Time magazine). They asked if they could come back and pray with us again and I thought, well....again, how do you say no to that? So I said sure.


I told hubs about it and he laughed and we had a good time making jokes about me becoming a Witness. They came back a couple more times and brought literature. I started to notice that they were making special trips to our house. They were not visiting anyone else in the neighborhood. Uh-oh! They might think I am interested instead of just polite (yeah, I can do this sometimes).


The next time I saw them walking to our house, I decided to do what the rest of you do...I hid. Yes, I grabbed the girls and played in the back room. Fortunately, the windows were open and I was able to hear hubby talking with them, "...yes, Tanya is home. Of course she would like to pray with you. Go right in..." WHAT!? 


I needed to be more sneaky the next month. Luckily, they came at nap time at our house. I was sooo "sleepy" that I "didn't even hear the doorbell ring." It was payback time! I laid on the couch and I giggled as I heard hubs respond, "Oh! That's interesting!" and "I didn't know that!" to their information on Jehovah and the end of the world. After they left, he walked back in and said, "I know you are awake. That was a dirty trick!" (Heh! Heh!Hehhhh!)


They came a few more times after that and it did actually come up in conversation that I am a practicing Catholic (that will stop them...I thought).


Well, I thought I was successful at politely telling them that they didn't have to drive all this way to our house to pray with a Catholic. I even got cocky on Saturday morning when I said to hubby, "Hey! I haven't seen my Witness friends in awhile. Maybe they got the hint!"


Not even kidding, 20 minutes later hubs shouted, "I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM!" I thought it was weird that he was telling me such a strange thing. Like I would care that he had to go to the bathroom. In fact, like I would WANT to know that he had to go to the bathroom. Who does that? Who announces their need to go to the bathroom other than a three year old still working on the whole potty-training thing? Then there was the polite knock on the door. I peeked out the window. Crap!


I went to the door and listened to her verses and accepted literature while I had both children hanging from my legs, the dog sniffing them up and down, and of course hubby was in the bathroom. Then I did a dorky thing and wished her Happy Mothers Day. She looked at me oddly and stammered, "Well....yes...um..." Stupid me. I don't think Jehovah allows Hallmark holidays!


I said good bye, thanked them for inviting me to their convention at the end of the month,  and stalked to the bathroom. I threw open the door and to my horror, hubs was sitting on the toilet with the seat down, PANTS UP, reading Time magazine, and grinning. I had been fooled again! 


Now I can shake my fist and say in my evil villain voice, "You may have gotten me this time! But this isn't the last you will see of me! Until we meet again"

Sarcasm and Drama Queens

We usually have a couple of runs of bad luck throughout the year. And like everyone says, they come in threes. Our most recent bout happened last Friday: our dehumidifier went kaput, there were lay-offs and pay-cuts at Brent's job effective immediately, and our tax return has been delayed while they "investigate" before making a decision as to whether we are worthy of our return or not.  I was unaware that the IRS had Sherlock Holmes at the ready for when suspicious citizens such as ourselves filed for an adoption tax credit two years in a row. Now I know! 


The tax return was most upsetting of the three because for the last 6 months we have been responding to every dream with "...when our tax return comes we can take care of that." This makes it seem like we were getting back millions and in my dreams we were.


Hubby and I have very different ways of dealing with the bad luck threes that come our way. I get a little bitter and sarcastic. The hubs gets VERY dramatic. It's adorable, what can I say...


MINUTES after we received the letter regarding our delayed return...
       "I just got back from Piggly Wiggly. I was buying milk. I decided to pick up an application for bagger because I thought maybe I could pick up a couple of hours here and there to make up for our delayed tax return."


(I feel that this was a bit of an extreme response. But then again, my response wasn't much better.)


       "Good idea. You should also ride your bike to the Piggly Wiggly so we can save on gas, and we should attach a basket to the front so you can pick up any aluminum cans you see on the way so we can change them in for coins."


As his application is being processed (no, I didn't let him turn it in!) and we are attaching a basket to the front of his bike (no, there is no basket!), we will just delay some of the fun stuff until Sherlock is done. But, like I told the hubs, it will be okay.