Going Going GONE

Well, I did it.

I moved my website and changed the name.

I know!  This is a pain in your patootie.  You'll have to update your bookmarks and RSS feeds. 

I'M SORRY!

But do it, because just THINK of the poop stories you'll miss if you lose track of me! I know! It would be tragic.

Here's my new address:  Can't wait to see you on the flip side.

www.motherhoodismycardio.com

Play Like a Champion Today

Hello there, my Internet friends.  How have you been?

I've been writing blog posts in my head for almost a week now.  Which, doesn't really help YOU much, as you cannot visit the inside of my head and read them.  And now that I come to think of it, you should be thankful you cannot visit the inside of my head, because IT'S MESSY IN THERE. 

Today was our first "home day" of the year.  My kid goes to Regular School with Regular Kids doing Regular Things on Mondays and Wednesday's.  On Tuesday and Thursday he's home with me doing a pseudo-homeschooling thing.  It's an extraordinary school, based on an extraordinary idea, and I'm so grateful to be a *part* of my kids education, without actually having to do it all. 

So I'm grateful, yes, but I'm also daunted.  I'm working now, and my role at my job has expanded to include marketing which means MORE hours and MORE responsibility.  Yay! And also WHOA!  Because I find myself trying to homeschool AND work and maintain some semblance of household order (the laundry! SAVE ME FROM THE LAUNDRY!). 

Oh, and I'm also the homeroom mom.  I KNOW! What is wrong with me?

But you know what?  I'm totally doing it!  Not perfectly.  Sometimes not even well.  But I'm doing it.  So far, I've managed NOT to get fired, and all indications are that my kids are happy and they still like me.  So, um, GO ME!

Sometimes, I just wish that - at the end of the day - I could run down a tunnel and give everybody a high-five.  You know how they do at the beginning of a football game?  Where the players run out onto the field to roars of applause?  That.  I want to do THAT at the end of a day like today.  I need a line of high-fivers and some applause.

Someone get me a tunnel. 

Wait a 2nd!

Will started second grade on Wednesday.   I was surprisingly nonchalant about it.  This is the first year I've felt just fine about the passage of time and my kid getting older.  No wistful notions of his childhood slipping through my fingers.

Tralala.

And then I made the mistake of sending this photo to my mother:

1st day of 2nd grade

She called me when she received it.  Shenexclaimed "His head is almost up to your shoulder!".  And then she cried. 

WHAT?  I looked again and sure enough.  His head is almost at my shoulder.

MAH BAYBEE!!

Someone get me a tissue. *sob*

Runners are STILL Stupid and Dumb

"oh what a beautiful mooooooorning"

Ok, listen, I wrote a while back about how I thought runners were stupid and dumb.  WHICH THEY ARE.  Why would you intentionally RUN and SWEAT and GET OFF THE COUCH if you didn't have to? 

And yet.

I started running right after my birthday in July.  Then Susan somehow (through voodoo magic, I think) talked me into running IN A RACE at the end of September.  Which was EVIL and also brilliant because now I can't QUIT, because then I would look STUPID at the race.

Well played, Susan.  Well played.

And here's what's happened: Sometimes? (just sometimes, mind you) I actually LOOK FORWARD to my run. Which is UTTERLY INSANE.  Because I have to 1) set my alarm and get out of my warm ,soft bed 2) wear clothes that make me look dumb 3) sweat and 4) ache for the rest of the day.  Why would I look forward to that?  WHY?

I have no answer.  No idea.

I *do* enjoy seeing the sunrise.  That's nice.  But I could do *that* while sitting on my patio drinking my coffee.  Under a blanket.  With my feet up. 

And I really love seeing all of the little animals in my neighborhood.  We live on a golf course, so there are zillions of bunnies, and ducks, and I saw a fox once.  But honestly, I could google "bunnies/foxes/ducks" and get all the youtube videos I could stand FROM MY BED.

So what I'm trying to say is: I have, PURELY BY ACCIDENT, started to SOMETIMES enjoy running.  And I don't know why.

What's happening to me? Help!

Behold! The LAMINATOR!

My boy goes to a weird school.  One that only meets on Mondays and Wednesdays.  The other days he's home with me doing assignments.  I don't "teach" so much as I "encourage" (some would call it "nag", others would say "threaten-with-bodily-harm". Ahem.).  Part of doing school this way involves using flashcards.  Lots and lots of flashcards.  And the school gently suggests that these cards be laminated.  And all this laminating must be done before school begins.

No problem!  I know my way to Kinkos.  I can laminate with the best of 'um!

Except that, did you know that laminating is outrageously expensive?  Like, I could have covered these flashcards IN ACTUAL GOLD and spent less money.

So after last year (where I sold a kidney to pay for laminating), I decided to wise-up and BUY MY VERY OWN LAMINATOR.  Yes.  You heard me.  I own a laminator.  What's next?  My own cotton-gin? Perhaps my own butter churn?

But Hey! Need a fake ID?  I'm your girl! (Most of my friends would be faking an ID to make themselves YOUNGER).

I figure, at this rate, I'm only a few steps away from those homeschooling moms who wear floor-length denim jumpers!  Move over Duggers, there's a new mom in town!

(What? You KNOW Michelle Duggar TOTALLY has her own laminator.)

A Backpack Can Break Your Heart.

he holds her hand in the parking lot.  could you not die?

Yesterday Paige started back to Mother's Day Out.  She's been going only on Monday's during the Summer months, but the facility takes a 2 week break at the beginning of every August (presumably so that the teachers can talk to other adults, sleep, and drink lots of alcohol).  So, we've had a LOT of togetherness at my house for the last two weeks what with NO CHILDCARE and all. (Yeesh).

When we arrived at Paige's "school" that morning, we were greeted with the usual pandemonium that accompanies the first day - weepy toddlers being consoled by cheerful teachers, and raucous kids exploring their new classrooms full of toys.  Paige's teacher (the same one we've had for months) saw us coming down the hall and declared that Paige had been moved up to Miss Kelly's class.

Miss Kelly?

Wait.  That can't be right.  Miss Kelly is the teacher for big kids.  She's the last teacher you get at Mother's Day Out.  After Miss Kelly, you're DONE.  Out.  Your kid is big enough for "real school". 

Oh my goodness.  PAIGE IS A BIG KID.  I have no idea how this happened.

When I came back at the end of the day, Paige was overjoyed about her new classroom... which is set up much more school-like.  With desks and chairs and real-live learning-type activities.   She squealed when she saw me and exclaimed "I HAVE TO HAVE A BACKPACK MISS KELLY SAYS SO!".  She also requires Big Kid School Supplies (no juice and Goldfish crackers? Wha?).

So we went straight to Target and picked out a Big Kid Backpack (and a matching folder for her "work").  When she spied the one she wanted, Paige pulled it off the rack, put it on her back, and wore it for the remainder of the time we were shopping. 

Then she wore it to the car.

Then she wore it around the house.

Then she put it on to show Susan (who came over specifically to see The Backpack - God bless her.).

Most days my kids grow up right in front of me and I don't notice.  A million tiny steps away from me and toward adulthood.  Today felt like a leap.  All because of a purple backpack.

A Horse of a Different Color

I took the kids to the zoo last week.  My momma bought us a year-long zoo pass, which means we can visit anytime we want for FREE!  Woot!

We saw the usual things.  The shiny pygmy hippo with his bristly tail.  The lions - who also gaze at my children like they would make a delicious mid-morning snack.

And then we usually visit the birds.  Little tropical birds who land on your arms and head and twitter madly.  It's lovely.

Until they bite the HECK out of you, making you BLEED. 

Then you want to wring all those birdies necks and roast them up with a nice garlic sauce.

Stupid birds.

But the best thing we saw at the zoo? 

The dude cleaning the inside of the gigantic fish tank.

Bullseye in the Dark

Last week I visited Target.  Which is what I do every week.  Sometimes more than once per week.  In fact, I think my car knows the way to Target all on its own.  I bet if I started my car and walked away, I would come back to find it missing.  It would have driven itself to Target. 

Where was I?  Oh right.  Last week. 

So last week I arrived at Target to find the interior DARKENED in the middle of the day!  Like, almost totally dark, save for a few emergency lights.  And yet, the doors were unlocked.  A hand-written sign near the entrance said that the store had lost power, BUT NO WORRIES, because the registers were still working (on a battery backup, I suppose).  So?  SHOP AWAY TARGET SHOPPERS, shop yourselves silly IN THE DARK.

So guess what I did?

I TOTALLY SHOPPED IN THE DARK!  What?  I had A LIST.  My car had already driven me there!  Plus?  Do you have any IDEA how much energy it takes to get myself AND two unwilling children out the door? 

I wasn't going home empty handed.

It turns out shopping in the dark is sort of fun in a we-might-die-here-or-in-the-very-least-stub-our-toe sort of way.

I called Susan when I got home to tell her of my Dark Target Adventure, and she told me she'd ALSO stopped at Target, but had turned to go home "because I couldn't buy ice cream and chocolate milk, so what was the point?".  Turns out Target will not allow any refrigerated items to be sold during a power loss for fear of spoilage.  Poor Susan.  She totally missed all the fun.

Or maybe I need to get a life.

My What Big *Pockets* You Have

Last night Paige and I went to the local mall to purchase, of all things, a cookie.  My nephew's birthday is coming up, and he wanted nothing more than one of those Great American Cookie Company cookies.  And being an obliging auntie, I got him one. 

We parked outside a big department store, and Paige asked if we could stop and look at "the pretty things" on our way out.  She ooooh'd and aaaaahhh'd at the jewelry and held up various (and hideous) articles of clothing while exclaiming "momma, you NEED this!". 

Gosh she's cute.

In the midst of all of Paige's declarations, I stopped to examine a blouse.  Then a watch.  I wasn't really paying attention to my little 4-year-old stylist.  Which is why I wasn't immediatley alarmed when she yelled "let's go look at the purses!".  I glanced up just in time to see her standing near a rack of NOT PURSES.  They were gigantic BRAZIERS.

And do you know what she said?  "Momma, where are the zippers?".

Poor baby.  She's used to seeing her momma's bras.  Which have, ahem, significantly less storage capacity than the "purses" she was eyeing.

The Perfect Gift for an 8 Year Old Boy

Look, if your boy is anything like mine, gift-giving becomes progressively harder with each Birthday.  Gone are the days when a multi-colored train is sufficient.  Now, it seems that if the gift does not require batteries or a power switch, it's simply not worth giving.

Well, except for Legos.

For the past few years William has been (as all boys are, it seems) obsessed with Legos.  At first, he was interested ONLY in the finished product.  Which meant that daddy was intimately involved in the building process.  But as the years have gone by, William has gotten more and more interested in the construction.  Nowadays, there is nothing he loves more than a "complicated build" involving hours (sometimes days) of careful step-by-step direction following. 

But here's the rub: Legos - especially the ones that are considered a "complicated build" - are SO EXPENSIVE.  A moderately priced set can cost $50, and most are much more than THAT. 

Which is why I was THRILLED when William received Snap Circuits, Jr. in the mail from his Uncle Bradley:

Snap Circuits, Jr.

It's a set of circuits and switches that, when assembled correctly, can produce all sorts of fun things.  One assembly makes a fan whir.  Another makes a bell whistle.  Some switches control a series of lights.  All of these things require a "complicated build", and in order to move on to the next project, you have to carefully disassemble and start over. 

It's much like Legos in that it requires patent, careful direction following, but without a zillion little pieces. (Anyone who has stepped on a Lego in the middle of the night will understand my glee).

And the best part? This set costs less than $30.  Wahoo!

Do you have boys?  What are some of his favorite gifts?  Please share.  Christmas will be here before we know it.  Ack!


ps: Snap Circuits and Amazon are not paying me to say any of this.  Can't a girl just LIKE something on the Internet without getting paid? Huh?

Bird is the Word

Remember last week when I told you about the hawk that FLEW INTO THE POOL?

Yeah.  *That* was weird.

And, obviously a once-in-a-lifetime thing.  I mean, a hawk flies into the pool, and then voluntarily lets my mother hold it for several minutes?  Crazy.  That never happens.

Which is why I gasped and clutched my pearls when I saw THIS on Facebook the very next day:

my mind is blown.

Here's the freaky part: this dude?  Who posted this to Facebook? LIVES EIGHTY MILES FROM MY MOTHER.

Would someone please explain this to me?  Is this the Apocalypse?

Or perhaps this particular breed of bird is, um, thirsty? Longing to swim?  In need of human companionship?

I'm out of ideas.



**According to this dude's Facebook stream, that bird (which is identical to the bird my mother rescued) is not actually a hawk.  It's something called a Mississippi Kite.  And this concludes the Random Bird Fact portion of the day.  The End.

Not a Chicken Hawk

Oh my goodness, the most INCREDIBLE thing happened today!

We were swimming at my mom's house.  There were 5 adults and 3 kids in the pool.  Out of nowhere, a HAWK landed five feet away from the edge of the pool.  And then it just stood there.  Staring at all of us.  And we, being agog at this intrusion from a WILD ANIMAL, stared right back.

And he just kept standing there.  Staring at us.  5 minutes passed.  Then 10. 

After a while, we started to think something was wrong with him (or her.  I didn't check for fear of having my eyes pecked out).  Perhaps he was injured?  Or else ill?  Or maybe just starving, or thirsty (the heat in Oklahoma as been record-breaking).  And then someone suggested that this hawk was small.  And sort of fuzzy.  Hey!  It was a baby!  Perhaps just recently from its nest!  And, God bless him, his maiden voyage took him within inches of HUMANS.  Surely his hawk-mother told him to stay away from HUMANS! (Children, they never listen.)

And this hawk didn't seem the least bit scared. 

After a while the children resumed splashing and carrying on, and the hawk didn't seem bothered.  He just watched us.

Until.

He up and FLEW INTO THE POOL!  Well, sort of.  He flew near my mother, landed on the edge of the pool, lost his footing, and fell in. 

So my mother, being a mother, swam over and carefully picked him up and sat him back on dry land.  Except, instead of flying away, he just stood there, latched on to mom's hand.  He stood there for a good 2 minutes just staring at her.  IT. WAS. UNBELIEVABLE.  I don't think any of us breathed.

And then, just like that, he flew away.

sorry.  crummy iphone pics.  WHERE is my good camera when I need it?

We were all agog.  Mother claimed she was the "bird whisperer".  I reasoned that the bird flew toward my mother because it was missing its OWN mother.

Dave, however, said it was most-likely attracted to the person with the ugliest hat.


I told him he'd better shut-up or he wouldn't be invited to Thanksgiving.


ps - yes, we have a video!

I'm Totally Too Old for This

One day, maybe as much as a year ago, I was wandering through The Walmarts when I happened upon the craft aisle.  There I discovered, for only $3.50, a box full of all the supplies for making friendship bracelets.  On a whim, I bought it.

And then it sat on a shelf in my pantry for MONTHS.  Because? Who has time for such things?  Certainly not me.

But then, when I was packing for our trip to the lake a few weeks ago, I threw the box into my luggage on the off-chance that I'd have some down time in which to dedicate to my "craft".

However, I learned quickly that the promised "easy" instructions were beyond me.  But an Internet search and a few youtube.com videos set me straight.

.

Before the end of the weekend, everyone in our group was sporting a new bracelet.  And I even snookered my sister-in-law into crafting with me.

The problem is that, now, weeks later, I'm still addicted to making these stupid things.  Which means I'm going to need to make a LOT more friends.

If You Can't Stand The Heat, Blog About It

Look, I realize that I live in Oklahoma.  And living in Oklahoma means that the month of August is going to be hot.  That's just how it is in Oklahoma.  Why complain?  It is what it is, right?

But this?  This heat we're experiencing?  Yeah.  It's beyond hot.  "Hot" and "Heat" don't cut it for a day like today. We need to invent a new word for it.  "Searing" doesn't seem bold enough.  Something like "devilwharf" or "sizzlesnoot" or "dragonbritches".  The heat here beckons an entirely new vocabulary. 

And in that vein, we also need a word that represents the emotional toll this Sizzlesnoot (I like that one best I think) takes on us.  Something like "hotsanity", and "hellicious".  Because, y'all? I'm starting to feel both angry (at the AIR, because THAT'S productive), and crazy. 

Today the actual air temperature (not the heat index, mind you) was 112 degrees. 

Let's pause here while you re-read that up there.  I said ONE HUNDRED AND TWELVE ACTUAL DEGREES OF SIZZLESNOOTS.

My air conditioner has been running non-stop for ten straight days.  Non-stop.  All day.  All night.  It runs and runs and runs.  I worry about it.  How much more can it take before it waves a little white flag and surrenders?  And then what will I do?  I will die.  That's what.  I will burst into flames and die. 

And this concludes my Rant Against Nature. 

The End.

Ok, I'm not *quite* done with my rant.  Because, WOULD YOU LOOK AT THIS?  It's 9:30pm and it's STILL 100 degrees outside. 

Save me!

But It Comes In So Handy!

Today, I attended a business meeting.  Which is, honestly, sort of hilarious since - up until a few months ago - I was spending my days wiping bottoms.  Me? At a "business meeting"? HAHAHA!

After the meeting, one of my co-workers (who was in from out-of-town to attend the meeting) asked for a ride to the airport.  "No problem!", I said.  "The airport is on my way home!" And I began to help her with her luggage. 

Oh gosh, y'all, then I  opened my hatchback and there it was: Paige's POTTY.

WHAT KIND OF BUSINESS WOMAN DRIVES AROUND WITH A TOILET IN HER CAR?!?

Me.  That's who.  Rita Ortloff, Potty-Toting Executive Extraordinaire.

*sigh*

Hand Jive

Last weekend while I was in Arkansas with Susan, we visited the farmers market, and then wandered into several little boutiques on the town square.  There were all sorts of goodies that caught my eye.  But I resisted spending money.

That is, until I spotted something that I just couldn't live without: A porcelain hand.

I don't know why I thought I needed it.  But there you go.  It was $12 and it had to be mine. 

So there we were, two girls in possession of a decorative porcelain hand - with the whole wide world of hand-related puns before us.

.

To begin with, I took the hand to the cashier and asked if he'd "give me a hand".  He chuckled.  Then he offered to remove the price tag for me.  I told him that would be "handy".  He only smiled at that one.

Susan, however, guffawed.

And thus began our day of hand jokes.

When Susan sassed me, I simply told her to "talk to the hand". 

.

When she did something exciting, I gave her a high-five.  With my new hand.

.

You get the idea.  Underhanded.  Out of hand. Don't get too hands-y. Hand-over-fist.

But when we visited the artists colony and purchased a souvenir, well, I think we reached hand-pun-perfection.

.

The Amazing Race

I went to the great state of Arkansas to visit my friend Susan this weekend.  Hooo boy did we have a good time. 

We clean up real, real nice.

I wish I could explain our relationship to you.  Take this, for an example: Susan and I visited a bonafide artists colony on Saturday.  And while we were there, wandering through the woods gawking at the amazing sculpture garden, we happened upon a labyrinth.  I said something like "what's the purpose of a labyrinth", and Susan explained that people are supposed to walk slowly through the maze pondering life.  Like a walking meditation.

So, being the wacko that I am, I challenged her to a footrace right then and there to the center of the labyrinth. 

And without missing a beat, Susan threw her purse to the ground and began SPRINTING.  So there we were, two old ladies in the middle of the woods running and laughing and gasping for breath.  And we only stopped because we'd both wet our pants a tiny bit, what with all the running and laughing.

Susan is, without a doubt, the ONLY person I'd EVER challenge to a footrace in the middle of the woods of Arkansas.  Do you have friends like this?  Ones that you leave you aching with laughter?  The kind that bring out your inner weirdo in the best possible way?

What's the weirdest thing you've ever done with a friend?

Lake Carnies

I spent the last 5 days at the lake for our annual water skiing family reunion.  Yes.  You heard me. It's a family reunion wherein all of the adults (and some of the kids, even) spend the entire weekend trying to kill each other by either 1) drowning or 2) impaling each other with a slalom ski.

It's all very wholesome!

Dave's family has been meeting at this particular lake for generations.  Water skiing is just what they do for fun.  Except that, once you get really good at plain old skiing, you get bored.  So they started doing things like building pyramids WHILE SKIING.  And skiing backwards.  And when THAT gets boring, they stop using skis altogether and start using random objects - like a piece of WOOD, or a table with the legs cut off. 

They SKI on a TABLE, people. 

I say this will all of the love in my heart, but these people are like carnival freaks on the water.  They are skiing carnies.  They should put on a show and charge admission. 

My sister-in-law and I agreed this weekend that we *might* be getting too old for these shenanigans.  That, or we're going to need something a little stronger than ibuprofen next year.

*I would like to send a big, giant hug to our hosts, Mike and Donna, who filled us full of potatoes, beans, homemade banana puddin', and oodles of love.  We know we will never be able to pay you back, but we hope to someday pay it forward to the next generation of water skiing carnies.

Rita 'Nuther Book (HarHar)

Hey! Let's talk about some more books you should read.  But before we get started, we need to get something straight: I do not DO NOT like books that are 1) scary 2) sad, 3) gruesome.  So you will never hear me recommending books in any or all of those categories.  Because, HELLO, life is scary, sad, and gruesome enough THANKYOUVERYMUCH.

Now, on with the books.

First up: The House of Tynford by Natasha Solomons.

Oh my goodness.  Do you love Downton Abbey?  Yes?  Then go buy yourself this book pronto.  You're going to drink it in just like I did.

Next: The Evolution of Calpurnia Tate by Jacqueline Kelly.

This is apparently a young adult book, and yet I loved it so much! Does this mean I'm immature?  Probably.  I don't care.  I loved it.  It's about a little girl who develops a special relationship with her grumpy grandfather.  It will make you want to go hug your grampa's neck.   Which was sad for me, as my grampa is long dead.  *sob*

And finally.  Oh you guys, this is one of my all-time favorites.  It's called The Red Garden.

It's written by Alice Hoffman who wrote Practical Magic (remember Practical Magic? With Nicole Kidman and Sandra Bullock?).  But this book is completely different from Practical Magic.  It's about a town, really.  About a parcel of land and all those that inhabit it throughout many generations.  Each chapter is a stand-alone story, but as you read, you realize that, say, the woman in this chapter, is the granddaughter of the newborn baby in the last chapter.  So all of the stories are loosely connected by these people and this land.

I don't know.  I just loved it.  I loved that Alice Hoffman thought it up.  I want to buy her a cup of coffee and ask her how this idea fell into her head.  I'm fascinated.

So there, that should keep you busy for a while.  I'm still plugging away at the first book of the Game of Thrones series.  So far, I like it!  What about you?  Read anything good lately?

Song Bird

Oh my goodness, you MUST watch this!  Push play and drag over to about 1 minute 30 seconds.  Then you will see a BABY BIRD land on this man's guitar.  And hey! It doesn't leave!  It sits there chirping along while he sings!  It even lets him stroke its wee little birdie back.

This might be the cutest thing I've ever seen.  Ever.

Runners are Stupid and Dumb

Yeah.  You heard me.  I said "runners are stupid and dumb".  Look, I can understand running while being chased.  Or running a race against other people even!  I can get behind that idea!

But running just for the sake of running?  Who thought up THAT stupid idea?  Stupid and dumb people did.  That's who.

And yet.

I read a book recently about developing willpower and becoming motivated - it was a pretty awful book, honestly, but I *did* get one good nugget out of it: "In order to strengthen your willpower, you should do one thing you hate every day."

And hey! I hate running! HOW CONVENIENT!

So, I started the Couch to 5K program.  Which would have been alright, except that I made the mistake of telling Susan about my plan.  And within MINUTES she somehow talked me into registering for a 5K in September. 

Doesn't it look like I'm driving a Segway?  I'm not! I'm RUNNING.

So let's review: 1) I think runners are dumb and stupid. 2) I hate running. Therefore: 3) I am going to pay money and voluntarily run OVER THREE MILES without stopping.

What just happened?

Oh wait!  But it gets even better!  Because do you know what's even MORE stupid and dumb than running? VEGETABLES.  That's right. Vegetables are stupid and dumb.  If I had anything to do with it, the four food groups would be 1) Icing 2) ice cream 3) chips/queso and 4) Skittles.   But, if I eat from MY four food groups, I tend to develop things like monstrous thighs and a belly button that can hold a cup of water.*

*Just the other day Paige saw me getting out of the shower and asked "Momma, why is your belly button so deep?"  I can just now speak of it without openly weeping.

So, I received a Vitamix for my birthday from my step-mom.  A Vitamix is a very fancy blender made for making healthy things like smoothies! It that can liquefy almost anything.  Like even, say, hermit crabs.

KIDDING! Just kidding.  I would never sully my precious blender with those disgusting things.

So, somehow, I've found myself coming home FROM RUNNING (insane!) and making a Vitamix smoothie out of KALE and SPINACH (crazy!).  Kale and spinach? ARE VEGETABLES. 

The photo is blurry because I've just finished RUNNING. RUNNING! Dude.

What's happening to meeeeee?

I think I'm having a mid-life crisis.  But instead of a convertible and a young hot boyfriend, I've opted for a blender and jogging.  I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere.

Reunited

Last Friday night I put on my most powerful pair of Spanx and attended my 20th high school reunion. 

My spleen may never recover.

My overwhelming thought of the evening?  WHO ARE ALL THESE OLD PEOPLE?

Then I walked past a mirror and realized I was right where I belonged.

*Sigh*

Now This is Just Getting Ridiculous

Before I confess my sins, I'd like for you, the Internet, to know that I've had a very long and busy day involving work and childcare and errand-running.

Which is the only reason that I could possibly come up with for ATTENDING A SWIM PARTY WITHOUT TOWELS.

For the third time this summer.

Yes.  I said THIRD time this summer.



How long before other mothers stop taking pity on me? (um, thanks Jill!)

I know what you're going to tell me - that I should wash the towels and IMMEDIATELY place them back in the swim bag.  So that they're always there!  No remembering required!

Or perhaps you want to tell me how to plan my own death.  Because clearly I am a failed human being taking up valuable oxygen on this earth.

*Sigh*



It's the Little Things

My mom sent this link to me today.  It's an orchestral flash mob.  If you watch and it doesn't give you goosebumps on every surface of your body, well, you should check your pulse because you might be dead.
Things like this video have a mysterious way of renewing my faith in humanity.  All day long we're deluged with information about all the ways society is crumbling.  A small does of the evening news leaves me believing the world is about to end. 

And then I see something like an orchestral flash mob and I suddenly think "we're going to be ok".

Rita Book (Get It?)

I am a voracious reader.  No, I take that back, I *used* to be a voracious reader.  Then I had children.  End of story.

But I do still love to read, and try to squeeze in some time with a book most nights before bed.  I rarely read "real" books anymore, as I am madly in love with my Kindle App for iPad (where I can make the background BLACK and the text WHITE, which is super dark - and MUCH less annoying to Dave than leaving a lamp on for a Real Book.)

So today I thought I'd share with you some of the books I've loved lately.  Do with this what you will. 

The first book that comes to mind is What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarity. 

I stole this image from Amazon. If you buy the book, maybe you should buy it from them so that I won't get arrested for picture theft.  That's a crime punishable by death, right?

I loved this book WHILE I was reading it.  Couldn't put it down.  Couldn't stop talking about it.  Then?  When I was finished with the book, I kept thinking about it for days afterward.  Which, normally, is my gold standard for Good Book Recommending.  However, the more I thought about the book and the plot and the characters, the more I was bothered.  I guess I just don't think real people in real life would react the way the characters did in the book.  And that bugs me.  So now I don't know whether you should read it or not.  It's about a woman who hits her head and develops amnesia - she loses 10 years of her life.  So she *thinks* she about to turn 30, but in reality, she's about to turn 40.  Isn't that a fascinating concept? Think of where you were 10 years ago.  Would you even recognize yourself today?  See? Now you want to read the book.  And you should! But don't be mad at me afterward.

The next book you should read is A Grown Up Kind of Pretty by Joshilyn Jackson.

Now I'm up to 2 counts of photo theft.  They're going to lock me up and throw away the key.

Oh my goodness I looooooved this book.  I loved it so much I read it twice.  It's about a woman and her daughter and granddaughter and how they react when the bones of a newborn baby are unearthed in their backyard.  And, as a sidebar, Joshilyn Jackson writes a blog called "Faster Than Kudzu" that you should add to your RSS immediately because she's a hoot. 

And my final recommendation (for today - because hey! I like this! I'm going to do this more often!) is Garden Spells by Sarah Addison. 

Is there such a thing as serial photo theft? I am a menace to society.

This is another one I've read twice.  I get nostalgic when I've read a good book and sometimes I circle back and read them again - it's like I miss the characters and I want to interact with them again.  Does anyone else do this?

Anyway, Garden Spells is about two sisters who grow up in a wacky family where everyone in town believes they're witches.  But they're not exactly that.  It's so good.  Go and read it.  You'll like it. 

Ok.  I'll do this again soon.  I have a quazillion books in my Kindle that need to be shouted about.  And not all of them are novels.  I have STACKS of books on parenting and marriage and did I mention PARENTING.  You need to know about some of those too.

I'm currently reading Game of Thrones.  What about you?  Read anything good lately?


**I am not being paid by Amazon to link to their books.  It's just where I usually shop.  Plus, they don't have thugs guarding their pictures, the dummies.

Accidental Death and Dismemberment

Hi y'all!  I've been away from my computer for a few days - I missed you! 

So, guess what?  Remember the hermit crabs my son got for his birthday?  The ones that scare the living daylights out of me?  The crabs who, I can only assume, are just waiting for the right moment TO EAT MY FACE OFF? 

Yeah.  Those.

So William dutifully "mists" his hermit crabs each day.  Why?  Because they have "modified gills", and modified gills, unlike regular gills, do not require water, but they DO require humidity to function properly.  So hey!  We get to spray the little, uh, darlings each day so that they can breathe. 

I'd like to stop here and remind all of you that HAMPSTERS DO NOT REQUIRE MISTING.

But I'm not bitter.

After William finished his morning misting last Thursday, he examined the "crabitat" (I cannot even TYPE "crabitat" without laughing), and discovered that one of his little spawns of satan crabs was dead.

AND NO I DID NOT KILL IT.  (Because killing a hermit crab would require me to get within arms length of a hermit crab, and I'm not that stupid). 

William came racing downstairs exclaiming that "Herman" had died.  And I'm not afraid to tell you that I rejoiced just a tiny bit inside.  But just a little, because this IS my boy after all.  I asked him if he was SURE the crab was dead because I'd read that sometimes the crabs hibernate, so it could just be in a very deep sleep.  And would you like to know what he said next? Hmmm?

He said, and I am giving you the verbatim here, "Mom, I know he's dead BECAUSE HIS LEGS ARE ALL OVER THE CAGE."

Oh holy Jesus and all of his wise men.  The crab DE-LEGGIFIED himself before croaking!  Does the disgusting-ness of these creatures KNOW NO END?

I calmly told William that, yes, that *did* seem to prove that the little guy was a goner, and I told him I'd take care of it.  Not to worry!  "Go and play, and mommy will handle this!"

And then I texted Dave the following message:
Crab dead.  Legs everywhere.  Come home now.

And he did.  He came straight home and exhumed the corpse and all of its various parts. Because he is my knight in shining armor. 

Well, he WAS, until he suggested to William that we go immediately AND BUY ANOTHER SPAWN OF SATAN HERMIT CRAB.

Which is how we came to own "Claude", and how my husband came to find himself sleeping on the couch*

*not really, I needed him in my bed to protect me from the face-eating crabs.  Duh.

Cutting Back to Go Forward

I've been doing quite a lot of thinking about time management lately.  Mostly because I seem to run out of minutes and energy way before the to-do's are crossed off my list each day.  Which, I must admit, is new to me.  After years of having so much day to fill with two small children who needed entertaining, I now find myself in the strange predicament of doing the Mommy Juggle.  And I'm juggling BADLY.  Oh my I'm dropping balls! 

Which is why an article piqued my interest recently.  In it, the author described how he efficiently pared down his life to only the essentials.  And in doing so, he created a workday that was reasonable (8-5:30pm) with absolutely no carryover to evenings or weekends.    Bear in mind, this man is wildly successful, cranking out books and other work by the truckload.

How'd he do it?

Well, he first had to define what he wanted.  He wrote down all of the things he wanted to "be" (I think he said "author" and "teacher", etc), then he simply cut out anything that didn't directly impact and enrich those goals.  Brilliant!

Somehow, this one article re-arranged the way I've been thinking about my days.  I can't say that the article was all that spectacular, but it did have spectacular timing.  I needed this sort of virtual "pep talk".  So I sat down and scratched out a list of my ideal "self" - who I'm aiming to be.

I want to be healthy, I want to invest in my children, my marriage, my extended family, and my friendships, and I want to provide supplemental income for my household. 

Everything else is extraneous.  Does this mean that the charities where I regularly volunteer are not important?  Absolutely not.  But if I want to stay focused on my life, and manage my time better, then anything that does not DIRECTLY enrich my pre-determined goals has to go.

I also realized that some of the areas where I was thinking of pulling back - like school and church volunteering - actually need to stay (those things directly impact my goals relating to child and marriage enrichment). 

And this same goal mindset has changed the way I spend my free time.  Sitting on the couch eating cookies is in direct conflict with  my goal of being healthy.  In fact, I've worked a little walking time into my schedule (I've ADDED something to my schedule!), but it feels good to add when I know it's directly connected to my goals.

I cannot properly articulate how much this perspective has changed me.  By defining exactly what my aims are, I am able to ruthlessly cut any extraneous duties.  It's liberating.

What about you?  Do you take the time to define your goals?  How often do you reassess? 

And Many More

It's my birthday!  Yay!

Did you know that every year for our birthday, my mother makes us our favorite meal?  All of us kids (and spouses) get our favorite meal on our birthday.  Which means?  My dear mother makes me THANKSGIVING DINNER every July 1st.  Because Thanksgiving is my favorite.

I know!  Can you believe? 

So today we loaded up in the car and headed to my momma's house.  We ate roast turkey and mashed potatoes and my grandmother's german egg noodles (that my mother ROLLS OUT BY HAND).  And then we had pie.  Lots of pie.  And then we had from-scratch brownies.

Dude.  I am spoiled rotten. 

And then?  On top of all that?  I got presents!  See above note about spoilage and rotteness.

After all that turkey and butter and pie, we WENT SWIMMING.  Because when you've just eaten Thanksgiving dinner, there's just nothing you want more than to put on your swimsuit!*

*Not really.  But it's HOT, so whattayagonnado?

But the sweetest thing that happened to me today?  Baby Paige gave me a card, and in the card was a dollar that she'd fished out of her piggy bank.  Because in her little 4 year old mind, there is nothing better in the world than getting a card with money in it.

And the second sweetest thing?  Turning to see my GROWN brother with tears in his eyes over the sweetness of the whole child-money-card thing.

Oh dear.  And now *I'm* weeping just remembering it all.

It was a good day.

Junkie

This lumpy body brought to you by Little Debbie.

When my dad died suddenly a few years ago, I finally (at the age of 31) realized that, huh, people really DO die.  Go figure.  I'd heard of this "death" thing, but damn, I thought they were kidding.  People can be so full of hyperbole! 

And I suppose upon learning that dying was something I'd have to do, I started to wonder if maybe I should, you know, DELAY such a thing for as long as possible.  This delay wasn't THAT hard, I mean, I'm not one to want to swim with sharks or jump out of airplanes.  But I WAS treating my body like it was just going to function perfectly no matter WHAT I did to it.  Or, namely, no matter what I PUT IN IT.

God, I love junk food.

And, stragely, my body has functioned on mostly junk up to this point.  Which proves that the human body IS AMAZING.  Try putting diesel in a gasoline engine and see what happens.  And yet, my body just keeps chugging along on a diet of Dr. Pepper and cookies. 

I am a walking miracle.

But you can't go anywhere these days without The Truth screaming at you.  By now, all of us know that Americans are fatter and sicker than they've ever been.  We know that the medical industry is buckling under the weight of, well, our weight.   We're told that the enemy is high fructose corn syrup and partially hydrogenated oil.  And since I'm nothing if not obedient, I promptly began reading labels and doing my best to scrub those Bad Things out of our diets.

Then? I learned that artificial colors and dairy make for a foggy brain in some children.  So, it was out with Yellow 5, Red 40, Blue 7.  Out with milk and cheese, and anything with "artificial flavorings". (You would not BELIEVE the things that contain artificial colors - it's in EVERYTHING, y'all").  And it turns out that my kid, on a diet of "uncolored" food, is actually MUCH different.  In a good way.

But can I be totally honest with you?  Reading labels and being diligent about what goes into our bodies is EXHAUSTING.  And do you know what else?  I don't really like healthy food.  No!  I eat a smoothie for breakfast made with organic fruits (and a little kale, because they say it's a superfood - how could I not eat something called a SUPERfood?), and yet, I'm all but pinching my nose while I'm drinking it. 

What I really want, even now that I know it will kill me dead, is a nice cookie.  Preferrably with a thick layer of icing. 

If I could change ONE THING about myself, I would wish for a palate that craved nothing but whole, raw, organic foods.  You know, instead of Little Debbie Snack Cakes.

*Sigh*

Monkey Masseuse

.

I had an epiphany yesterday while I was driving (too fast) down the freeway on my way (late, actually) to a little swim party for William's first grade class.  I was late because I'd gotten tied up with something for work and didn't get out the door when I'd planned.  Then? Precicely BECAUSE I was running late, I forgot the towels (what IS it with me and forgetting towels?) and had to turn back (granted, I was still in my neighborhood, but still, I had to turn back). 

I realized, while my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel in frustration, that I was missing my entire life.  Every minute of the last few weeks has been spent planning and worrying and fretting about FUTURE MOMENTS.  My head is a constant swarm of lists and to-do's and should-have-dones.  And while my head is doing this swarming, I'm missing what's right in front of my eyes.

Something's gotta give.

I *thought* my problem was lack of organization.  But I'm starting to see that some of my problems also stem, not so much from the lack organization, as the lack of automation.  I don't have a clever, easy, way to get my to-do's out of my head and onto some sort of tickler/reminder system.  In a perfect world, I would have a personal assistant sitting next to me at all times who would not only jot down my to-do's, but would then remind me at the precise moment I'd set aside to get that task done.   Do you know of such a thing?  Perhaps a trained monkey?  Because GOSH that would be cool to have a pet who also helped you accomplish things.  Also, if I had a Personal Assistsant Monkey I would TOTALLY teach it how to bring me coffee.  Oh! And how to give foot rubs!

What? Like you wouldn't train your monkey to give a nice massage.  Don't lie.

So that's my goal: figure out how to get this swarm thoughts out of my head (Ok, probably without a monkey).  That way, when I'm in the car with my children going 80mph down the highway, I can focus on, well, DRIVING. 

New. Year.

My birthday is coming up soon.  July 1st I'll be 38 years old.  Emphasis on the word OLD.  Yipe!

I've always loved having a birthday precisely 6 months from New Year's Day.  Because I have two chances each year to start anew.  I know everyone balks at resolutions, but sometimes I like taking time to reflect on how things have been and dream a little about how what I'd still like to become.

What about you?  Do birthdays feel like a fresh start, or do you wallow in the sad passage of time?

Crabtastic

My kid turned 8 years old last week.  And for his birthday, I convinced the boys father that he needed his very own pet.  Not a dog, or a cat.  Nothing that needs to be potty trained (because I've done enough potty training in the last few years thankyouverymuch).  No, after MUCH discussion, I finally talked Dave into letting William have a hamster. 

William was THRILLED.  So a few weeks before his birthday, the entire family loaded up in the car and headed to PetsMart to investigate hamsters.  We looked at various cages and cedar bedding, and then we stared for a while at the little fluffy rodents playing in the display area.  It was all going well.  Tralala.

But then something happened.  Something awful. 

William spotted the hermit crabs. 

In an instant, he scrapped the whole idea of a hamster and began insisting he needed A VERY LARGE SPIDER-Y LOOKING ANIMAL.

And let me just pause here and tell you that I am not what you'd call "afraid" of spiders.  I have a true phobia.  I can't even look at photos of spiders.  My heart rate starts to increase at the mere THOUGHT of a spider.  Cartoon spiders: still scared.  Stuffed animal spiders that look kind and friendly? FREAK ME OUT.  Charlotte's Web? HATED IT.

Are you spotting the problem here?  Hermit crabs belong to the arachnid family. And hey! I HAVE ARACHNOPHOBIA HOW CONVENIENT.  Before I knew what was happening, Dave and Will had wandered off to price SPIDER "crab" cages and learn about SPIDER "crab" care.  I still can't pinpoint exactly when this hamster plan derailed, but it happened.  And there was no going back.  

By the day of his birthday, William had already named his yet-to-be-purchased hermit crab: "hermie" or as I like to call him "haunter of my dreams".  Oh, but then there was another twist: Dave learned that hermit crabs do not thrive as solitary animals.  Nooooo.  It's best TO HAVE AT LEAST TWO.

Pardon me while I clutch my chest and wheeze prayers to Jesus and all the wise men.

Yes, friends, we are the proud owners of not one, but TWO spawns of Satan himself hermit crabs.

Dave swore up and down that it would be HE who manages the care and maintenance of the crabs and their "crabitat" (as it is called on, and I'm not making this up, "hermitcrabs.com".  yes.  I know.).  So Dave put the aquarium together and placed the little darlings in their new home and everything was a-ok.

Until Friday.

Friday, while Dave was safely at work 30 miles away,  William managed to LOSE ONE OF THE CRABS SOMEWHERE IN THE HOUSE.  IN THE HOUSE WHERE I SLEEP. 

Obviously I had to burn the house down.*

*Not really.  We found him. 

*Can I come live with you?

Eight

I rolled over this morning and told Dave "eight years ago at this moment I was being hooked up to pitocin".  Ten hours later I became a mother.

Eight years.  I can't believe it.

Happy Birthday my firstborn gift.  You are my sunshine.



.

It's Coffee-O'Clock Over Here

.

My eyes popped open at 3:30am today and for the LIFE of me I couldn't go back to sleep.  I tried everything.  But eventually, I crawled out of bed and  made my coffee.  By the time the kids woke up at 7am I'd done my budget, cleaned out my playroom, and purged my email inbox. 

So at 7:45a we left the house for donuts.  Because, why not? I'd been awake half the night and 8am felt like lunchtime.

My head is swimming with to-do's.  William turns 8 years old on Thursday and we're having a tiny party for him (William can't have a big party - all that hubbub freaks him out).   Although the party is small, I still have a zillion details to iron out.  Party favors, a little activity for the guests, and then there's the matter of what to feed everyone (I say order pizza and be done with it, Dave says we should do something more.).  So this morning after donuts we went to Walmart, then the bank, then the post office, then the dollar store.

And now we're home and I just glanced at the clock and IT'S 9:45!  Dude.  It's gonna be a long day.

I have back-to-back conference calls this afternoon that will likely take THREE HOURS STRAIGHT.  I have no idea what I'm going to do with my children.  Thank goodness for the mute button (On the phone, I mean.  Although a kid with a mute button would be mighty handy!)  After conference calls, it will be time to make dinner.  Then baths.  Then bed (For everyone.  Preferably by 8pm!).

And then I'll start all over again tomorrow.  Hey! I'm tired!

This pace, this working and mothering thing is exhausting.  And I'm only doing it part-time!  How does ANYONE do this full time?  I'm serious.  HOW?  It seems to me if I were any busier or preoccupied I'd be risking my health.  Truly. 

It makes me realize why Americans are so addicted to Red Bull and sugar.  Or in my case, coffee and donuts.  Yeesh.

You Never Get a Second Chance.

.

I'm a frazzled wreck these days, and never was it more apparent than last Friday when I met a group of moms - only one of which I'd ever met before - for a swimming playdate.  These moms are new to my son's school, and this was an opportunity for all of us (moms and kids) to get to know each other. 

Folks, I made a STELLAR first impression.

First of all, I was late.  And I HAAAATE being late.  It totally stresses me out.  I'm one of those people who is always ALWAYS at least 5 minutes early to everything.  Which is how I like it.  I never want YOU to wait on ME.  Ever.  It gives me a rash.

So there's that, I was late.  But then?  Then I realized as we were approaching the pool that I'd forgotten Paige's swim floaties.  Which meant that I was going to have to stand like a hawk and watch her without so much as blinking the entire time.  Problem is, sister THINKS she is an excellent swimmer.  And she can keep herself afloat for periods of time.  But inevitably she ends up stranded in the deep end flailing about because she's so exhausted.  So, instead of talking to those new moms, I knew I'd be over on the edge of the pool wringing my hands and grinding my teeth to dust. 

Floaties would have been much easier on everyone involved. 

And then? Oh y'all, I'm ashamed to even admit this: I FORGOT TOWELS. 

Yes I totally did.  I took my kids to a pool without towels.  Some other mother (who was forming her first impression of me) had to sacrifice one of her towels for the sake of my wet children.  I wanted to die.

And the final blow was when everyone decided to go as a group to a fast-food place for lunch.  And hey!  They'd all packed nice dry clothes for their kids.  GUESS WHAT MY KIDS WORE?

Yep.  Wet swimsuits.  (with tee-shirts over, but STILL).

Some days I think I might be pulling off this whole working, homeschooling, mothering thing and then life jumps up and slaps me with reality.  It seems everything is suffering.  I have no pace.  No rhythm.  I haven't figured out how to juggle everything. 

And it's killing me softly - a little bit every day.

I've never been That Mom - the put-together perfect one - but I've never been That Other Mom either.  The one who is such a disaster you wonder if she regularly bathes and feeds her children. 

But that' is totally who I was on Friday.  I was That Other Mom - the disaster one.  And all those women saw me at my very worst the very first time they'd met me. 

The only consolation is: it can only go up from here, right?

Padre

Happy Father's Day to my love.  Seeing you with these children makes my heart swoon.

A Tour of My iPhone Photos

I love this silly photo of me and Paige making dinner.  I don't know why. 

At one point yesterday I was babysitting all these kids while simultaneously hosting a webinar on my computer.  I am Wonderwoman!

Last week my husband grew a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and I died a little from the handsomeness.

Being a hamburger maniac, I thought it would be nice to take William on a little date to the new Five Guys.  It was just "ok".  Hrmph

My brother is very handsome.  And charming.  It's a dangerous combination.

I got to hang at the pool last week with Rachel and Susan.  It was awesome.

And finally: cute couple!