Adventures at the DMV

It’s been an adventurous day so far at my house. It started with taking the kids to their new private school. They were simultaneously nervous and excited, but not one left in tears! My youngest, my baby, started kindie today. I thought I would feel nostalgic, some sense of sadness, or at the vary least sentimental. I mostly felt relieved - that a prayer had been answered. I know they will be happy there. I hope they will. I’m sure they will, right? We haven’t gotten a call from the principal yet...yep, yet. I’ve yet to put my kids in a school that didn’t call me at least once in the first two weeks. You can read my past posts if you need a laugh and a peek into my circus of a life!

After drop off, hubby and I went home to go our separate ways. With no kids at home, and this my day off, it was difficult for us both to not play hookie for the day.

Last night we flew in from FL (yay vacation) to discover that another round of medical bills came in while we were gone totaling $1000.00. This total wasn’t nearly as traumatic as the last (10k), so we were thankful for that for a brief moment before overwhelm and frustration set in again. I mean, I’m sure that you, like me, have a spare $1000.00 just laying around for a rainy day, right? I got a good chunk of them paid this morning before my brain shut down. The rest will have to go on payment plans since we’ve already borrowed from the Bank of Mom and Dad to help with the last round. Don’t worry, a phone call to find an attorney is on my list.

This post is long, so it might be a good time to get a glass of your favorite beverage and settle in for a good read.

Before I could do that, I had to take care of one little tiny - okay huge thing. Apparently, my driver’s license expired. I didn’t realize it until I was already in FL. I know that makes it sound like it expired while I was gone, but it actually expired before that. Okay, it expired a lot before that - as in last April (YIKES!). Hubby had to send my passport to FL so I could board the flight home with a valid ID. Prior to leaving for the DMV, I looked up the wait times for renewing. Mornings are the best time, and it was already 10:30. The wait time was 1 hour 18 minutes. I needed to GO!

So here I am, as we speak, banging away at my keys at the DMV. Its called the Department of Licensing here though. I had a bit of trouble finding the place. They’ve moved since the last time I renewed. I didn’t realize that until I pulled up to find Lisa’s Nails now inhabiting their space. Enter my iphone (thank you folks at APPLE!). Utilizing my map ap and GPS, I was able to pull up their new location and get directions from my current location. I drove to their new place - only it was Mike’s Auto Motors which is apparently also closed. Plan B - time to call OnStar. I don’t actually have OnStar, but once, a female car sales person tried to get me to buy a newer model of the car I wanted b/c the newer (ergo more expensive model) had OnStar. I laughed thinking of all the times I’ve called poor hubby at work demanding to know “WHERE AM I?”. He always responded, trying not to laugh “I don’t know. Where are you?”. Me “I don’t know!!!! That’s why I called you.”. He was always able to figure out my location and give me directions on where to go, so when she dangled OnStar in front of me, I laughed while patting hubby on the shoulder and said “I’ve already got OnStar”. Hubby started laughing too. Our car lady didn’t understand the joke though.

So there I was, sitting in Mike’s Auto Motor’s parking lot, calling hubby. He stayed on the phone with me until I was able to locate it for real this time. Third times the charm, right? Only now, it’s noon - the time they tell you NOT to come b/c wait times are longer. Thankfully I brought a lap top and a couple of magazines. Confession, I brought a bag of Sour Patch candy too. The sour taste overwhelms my irritation with this waste of time and allows me to keep going. Don’t judge ;)

I took a deep breath when I saw bodies standing near the windows as I pulled in the parking lot. This trip was indeed going to eat up my afternoon and what little time I have to get my To Do list done prior to picking up the kids from school.

There’s a nice lady at the counter who gives me a number and directs me to sit down. I turn, and in front of me is a sea of chairs all filled with irritated people who have been waiting....and waiting...and waiting some more.

I found a spot between a normal looking gentleman and a nice looking lady. There was a bonus three seats between them which allowed me to sit in the middle with the requisite chair left between strangers. I sat down, prepared to wait. You know how when you sit down, you sometimes put your hand on the chair to guide you? Yeah - I did too - and there was GUM!!!!! EWWWWWWWWWWW! I was prepared to wait, but I was most definitely NOT prepared for gum. Thankfully I haven’t unpacked from the flight, and my hand sanitizer was still in my quart zip lock bag for carry on from yesterday’s flight home.

Hands sanitized, I took out my magazine to start entertaining myself. Then I realized why there were so many chairs in between the gentleman and lady - Mr. Man had restless leg syndrome - or maybe ADHD. I don’t know but he had both legs going like a jack hammer, and I didn’t last long sitting there while my head was vibrated. Thankfully a chair opened up on the front row, and since most of those people looked normal, I decided it was safe to move.

I glance down at my number, R421. It's noon. I glance up at the screen, R 381. Hmmmm... this doesn’t look good.

It’s now 1:15 and they are on R396. Not even half way there. I’m putting my renewal in my calendar next time.

While I’m waiting, a pleasant voice comes on the PA, all heads look up at once, hopeful that she will call their number. One lucky person stands up, while the others look down in disappointment...again.

“Now serving R395 at counter number 5”. Another 10 minutes or more goes by and they have not called a new R number. Twenty minutes pass, and still no new numbers. Thirty minutes now, and she comes on the PA again “Now serving R396 at counter 11”. I’m not sure what R395’s problem was that she required THIRTY minutes to renew her license, but I can’t help but be irritated with her.

Now serving R397". They also have A numbers, E numbers, and F numbers in addition to the R numbers. The pleasant voice calls them out like some sort of sad BINGO game. “Now serving A117 at counter 2” “Now serving F99 at counter 5”. Just to mix it up, one of the random license people will yell out and actual name “JILL McMURPHY? JILL McMURPHY”. A random person from the sea of many arises and walks to the counter. I can’t help but think that someone should yell out “B-I-N-G-O!” at some point, or that Drew Carrey’s voice should announce us by name. “Kelly Smith, you’re the NEXT contestant on DOL” - that’s Dept. of Licensing in case you glossed over it earlier.

“Now serving R399 at counter 3” c’mon on 400!!!

It would certainly make this process more fun. I think they should also have door prizes - you would get a 'Chance card (like Monopoly) and it would say “WINDFALL” and you would get $10 off your license fee or “Move up 2 spaces” and you would get to jump ahead of the people who aren’t paying attention when the voice comes on the PA.

“Now serving R400 at counter 8” half way there!!!

Sitting here bored has left me thinking of ways the Dept. of Licensing could make this process more fun. I’m pretty sure if they had large bouncy houses like what you find at Jump Planet, none of us would really care WHAT number we were.

“Bradly Webber?” Bradly gets up and walks to the counter. Good luck Bradly. I hope that’s your ticket out of here.

“Now serving R401” only 20 more to go and it’s 1:30 already. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m actually going to pick my kids up today.

“Now serving R 402”...I’ve run out of things to say, so I’m signing off. Today’s lesson
‘Renew your license ON TIME, ONLINE, so you don’t have to wait at the DoL!’

Blog Update - a total of 2 hours and 15 minutes at the DoL, and I am the proud owner of the WORST picture I have ever had taken at the DMV - or in my life for that matter. She told me to tilt my chin down - and since tilting my chin down leads to a double chin, I look like I'm Jabba the Hut's sister. Nice! Ugh!

Look Mommy it's a parade!

We took a red eye to FL this year - FL is where I'm from originally. The kids were finally on a normal(ish) sleep cycle this past week, and then we took a red eye. Amazingly, they slept on the plane for three hours and hubby and I tried to sleep. All in all it was an uneventful trip - which we more than grateful for because all of our other pilgrimages home have led to disaster.

Join me as I stroll down memory lane...

By far my most harrowing plane ride took place over four years ago. My youngest was 3 months old which would make my oldest 4 at the time. She was in full swing of reflux and he was in full swing of hyperactive 4 year old. The ride down was relatively uneventful except for the blood clot I got from riding on the plane (that's another post all together). The vacation itself went well, and my wonderful mom was more than willing to get up in the night and feed the baby so I could get some much needed sleep. We got back on the plane and our first leg went fine as well. I managed to get the toddle and the baby through the airport to the second plane. They were both tired before we got on the plane, but neither would give into sleep. SO, by the end of 3 hours of our 4.5 hour flight, they were both postal. Since I had a baby, I had only purchased two seats - my first mistake. We were in the two seats over the wing - second mistake (it's too loud for kids to sleep there). I spent the better part of an hour in the aisle bouncing reflux girl while patting my crabby 4 year old who was prostrate on the seats crying. As we are approaching Seattle for our final decent (from my low perch in the aisle), I happen to notice that the flaps aren't up on the wings (they slow you down so you can land). About the time I'm going to call the flight attendant, she appears from the rear of the plane asking to look out our window. I point out the flaps and she politely asks me not to say anything to the other passengers. So now I, the flight attendant and the pilots all know that the flaps aren't up. About this time, the pilot comes on the radio telling us "these airplanes have a lot of light and switches. We've confirmed that our flaps aren't up, but we don't know if our landing gear came down. We're pretty sure it did, but we have to fly by the tower for a look". We have to WHAT?!?! I felt like I was in some sort of Lifetime movie of the week! I'm trying my damnedest not to panic - especially in front of my kids but I'm close to failing miserable at it.

So, we fly by the tower, and the captain confirms that the landing gear is down (YAY!). We still have the flaps problem though. The captain then tells us that we are going to circle for a bit to try to slow the plane down prior to landing. I'm thinking to myself "..and dump fuel so we don't explode when we land'. Thirty minutes later, the captain comes on and says this - I swear to you I am NOT making this up "Okay, ladies and gentlemen, we need to make sure that your seat belts are fastened, your tray tables are up and your seats in their full upright position. We're going to come in hard and fast when we land. Right before we land I'm going to come on and say "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE" Now when I say that, I want you to brace yourselves as best as possible. If you have small children, try to place one hand in front of their torso's. If you have infants in arms (hi - that would be me on both accounts) place them in a carrier or hold onto them as best you can. I will be back on just before we land. Okay here we go". I'm pretty sure my normally ghost white skin had turned translucent by now. I'm trying hard not to freak out in front of my kids, and trying to figure out how I'm going to brace the three of us for "landing". I also couldn't decide if I should call my husband to say our final goodbye's or pray for the best. I decided on the latter. Somehow making that phone call made it all too real - and I preferred the semi state of denial I was already in.

About this time, the captain says "BRACE, BRACE, BRACE" - I use my mom seat belt arm to hold my oldest back on my left, I death drip the baby who is already in a Baby Bjourn (aka Baby Fly Paper) and throw my foot up on the seat in front of me hoping to wedge myself in. And then we landed - hard - only there were no fire balls, no explosions, and no cartwheels of the plane. You can't imagine the collective sigh of relief that came from all the passengers.

We came to an abrupt stop on the runway. I look as we are stopping and it is only then that I notice all of the fire trucks and ambulances lining both sides of the runway. At which point my son yells out on the plane "LOOK MOMMY! FIRE TRUCKS!" all heads turn our direction. A moment later, a firemen (woman?) comes over in their full head to toe silver fire gear which prompts my son to yell out "LOOK MOMMY! IT'S A SPACE MAN!" all heads turn our direction again. The captain comes on to explain that we came in fast and stopped hard which creates heat around the wheels and brakes. The firemen/women were coming to make sure our tires weren't ON FIRE!!! Once they gave us the all clear, the plane started taxiing toward the terminal - and the ambulances and firetrucks fell in line behind us and my son yells "LOOK MOMMY! IT'S A PAH-RADE!!! All heads turn toward us again then quickly out their windows to watch the parade too. And ever since then, I get a bit twitchy on planes.

A Tall Girls Revenge

Well, I would venture to guess that most of you reading my blog haven't met me in person. If you had, you would know that I'm 6' tall. Not 5'12" not 5'11" - just plain old 6 feet. I'm not what you would call small. I am half German and half Irish/English - big thighs and linebacker shoulders were a forgone conclusion. I don't say that with a value assigned to it or to be self deprecating. I'm just not little no matter how you slice it. Additionally, as if all of those 'make-fun-of-me' attributes weren't enough, I was cursed with very long legs. Seriously - I wear my shirts untucked to try to balance out my proportionately long legs which comprise a good 2/3's of my body.

As a child/youth, clothing did not fit me without a punchline being attached to it. Thankfully my mother had the same problem, and her mother taught her how to sew. Ironically, her mother (my beloved Grandma Shumann aka "Gerty") was NOT tall. I don't mean to say that she was a little shorter than my mom and I, or that she was vertically challenged - I mean to say that girlfriend was SHORT! Not petite - SHORT! On a very tall day, first thing in the morning, she was maybe 4'11". Seriously. She had what we affectionately referred to as 'The Runt Gene" Each generation, at least one family member benefits from The Runt Gene. I have a 35" inseam, so it wasn't me - the understatement of the year! I was hoping that my 4 year old would get it, but I just bought her size 12 kids shoes - and Shrek feet like that only mean one thing in my family - that she didn't get it either!

Anyway, my mom made skirts for me well into my teen years. Thankfully I lived in FL and could wear leggings with mini skirts even in the Winter, thus avoiding the high water pants situation which led to further tall girl jokes. And yes, it does get cold in January and February in FL. Seriously - it gets down into the teens. Mom taught me how to sew, and eventually, I took over my own clothing making. I'm well into my 30's, and the invention of "long" or "tall" pants did not arrive until the last 10 years. Even so, it usually meant that they lengthened the inseam 2 inches but didn't change the crotch - seriously - we are tall everywhere people! These days, more and more companies are carrying Tall clothing, and even more of them seem to understand that there is a difference between a longer inseam and tall size clothing. Hallelujah!

Unfortunately, this bit of information has not made it to the capri field yet where one size is still supposed to fit all. I know the rules - they are supposed to make short women look shorter and tall women look...well, shorter. Unfortunately, they usually come to just below our knees which isn't cute on any day. I like to buy inexpensive jeans and cut them off, re-hem them and voila - capri's. As I've stated in earlier posts, I am currently unable to sew at the moment, so my usual trick would not work this summer. I could wear last years pants if they fit - but a year of bed rest has not made me thinner!

As I was searching for my size and style jeans in one store, I realized that they are also making shorter inseams which they have cleverly marketed to petite women as "short". Really!? It's just an inseam change though. I tried them on - and "short" length pants actually fit me more like capri's! Finally! The Tall Girl gets her revenge!!! So I went back to said store tonight, who is having a sale right now, and bought two more pairs. Why oh why didn't I think of this earlier?

PS - I bought two long pairs too so I can wear them with flats - yes - flats! I wear them with heels too - but I have to pull them down a bit. Yes, I wear heels! I'm 6 feet barefoot, and you can add inches from there! Now, living in Seattle as I do, and being 6' tall with linebacker shoulders, it should really come as no surprise, that I am occasionally stopped by drag Queens who may not initially realize that I am a woman. They get distracted by my size 12 heels. Seriously. It's usually good for a laugh, and we trade secrets about where to shop. Thanks to one truly fantastic Queen - I learned where to buy my size 12 heels. Before that, I had been squeezing into tiny little size 11's! So I say, long live my Queens!

PPS - I know the grass is always greener and all, but I promise you, you really don't want to be this tall. A good 5'8" or 5'9' would be ideal. 6' has lots of issues - besides clothing, the average male in the United States is 5'10". This means at least 70% of the men in my country are shorter than I am! I'd like to tell you that it's different in European countries, but the last time I went, they all seemed even shorter than that. I don't exactly blend.

Also, people always want you to reach items for them on the next shelf. I'm used to it now, but being singled out as a kid was embarrassing.

People like to ask you two questions when you are tall #1 "How tall are you?' like you're a long lost relative of Andre the Giant. #2 "Do you play basketball?" - because you know, if we are going to use sweeping generalizations, all short people are jockeys and all of us tall peeps are b-ballers!

Oh, and from time to time, a man in the South (when I'm visiting) will make the unfortunate mistake of saying "Wow! You're really tall for a woman". To which I (equally rudely) reply "I know. You're kind of short for a man, aren't you?". It's strange, but the conversation always seems to end then ;)

One last tip you might want to know, we're sensitive about our shoe size. So unless you're a drag Queen, or equally Shrek footed, it's best to steer clear of this question. It's like asking any other woman what her pant's size is. lol

Convo's w/Jack (age 7) on my aparent lack of technology know how

Hubby got a new iPad last week. I've been playing around with it, and I would agree with my son when he said "It's just a giant iPhone" with a 'what's so great about that' tone. How would he know this bit of technology wisdom? We own iPhones too. Apparently, he forgot that fact today when we had the following conversation in the car:
Jack "Mackenzie, where's that game you were just playing on (the iPad)?"
Mack "I don't know"
Me "Hand it to me"
Jack "Dad, do you know?"
Dad "No"
Me "Hand it to me"
Jack (like he's warning me that I am about to test a nuclear device with no knowledge of nuclear technology) "it's an iPad"
Me "I know. Hand it to me"
Jack - hands it to me while saying "but it's an iPad, Mom" as if it might blow up in my hands were I to touch the wrong Ap!
Me (to my husband) "Does he really think I am that technologically inept? I know all kids surpass their parents on the technology spectrum at some point, but really? The iPad?"

I push the the icon for the correct Ap in a matter of seconds, hand it back to him silently and he says "Oh" but you could hear the 'I had no idea you weren't hopeless in the realm of technology, Mom' tone in his voice.

Seriously - the iPad?

Just one of those days!!

Yep - it was one of those days. You mom's know the type of day I'm talking about...the long ones, that don't end! I'm reminded of the mom who came up with a t-shirt that has a picture of her daughter in a full on meltdown. The phrase said "Got kids? Want mine?" I don't know that mom, but I feel a kinship with her right now...

The day started off just fine with our jaunt to high tea. You can read about that in my last post.

Then shortly after we got home, it just took a wrong turn!

Usually my two are buddies - no, I'm not just saying that. Typically they like to play together in the absence of other children. (If only I could find a way to keep spare children around my house - j/k). Since both hubby and I have ADHD, it should come as no surprise that both of our kids have it too! That's the beauty of ADHD though, you tend to forget things, sometimes important things, like that YOU have it. Well, we double dosed them in the DNA department. In hindsight, maybe not our best idea, but we wouldn't trade them for the world. Okay - some days....

Anyway, my oldest is active or exuberant as we like to say. He loved attention when he was younger - he especially loved a good audience. My youngest, like most babies, loved to be entertained. They were a match made in heaven - He could spin in circles and jump and make funny faces, and she would laugh and laugh. It's no wonder that she adores him to this day. However, despite another 4 years of growth, she still expects him (subconciously) to entertain her. If he isn't willing to oblige (sometimes he just wants a few minutes to himself - and don't we ALL know that feeling?) she takes matters into her own hands - sometimes its her feet too. She's mostly past the biting phase now.

I have a few weapons in my mom arsenal for really tough days like these. I hoard them like Weight Watchers chocolate ice cream bars until a desperate moment presents itself. Around 2 pm, just such a moment occurred.

They tried playing together - but she wanted to play princess, and he wanted play wizard. He offered to be her "wizard bodyguard" but she insisted that she did not NEED protection. Insert escalating moment here. He insisted that she did and she reluctantly agreed on the condition that she could order him around. I have to insert one extra factoid - she has a best friend - whom we'll call Hally (b/c I haven't asked Hally's parents if I can add her real name to this blog).

The game went like this:
M "You have to go look for bad guys!"
J "Okay" (shrugs his shoulders the way guys do like you just told him he had to play video games) - he dramatically takes up his search stance then declares "OH NO MACKENZIE!"
she interrupts "That's Princess Mackenzie"
he ignores her and continues on. "Look there's Kyle (another friend whose name I have changed)!"
M "GET HIM!!!"
J "STUPIFY! STUPIFY! STUPIFY!"
M "YESSSSSSS! You got him!"
J "Hey, you should thank me for protecting you"
she ignores him
J "OH NO! THERE'S HALLY! SPECIFICUS TOTALIS!"
M "JAAAAAAAAACCCCCCKKKKKKK! NO! NOT HALLY! YOU - ARE - PLAY-ING - THIS WRONG!!!" growls for emphasis - because, you know, Princesses growl, right?

And right at the moment - they left Friendship Island and turned into the Bickerson's, party of 2. Seeing that I needed to intervene, I went to my mom weapons depot, loaded up two pop up tunnels, and 26 one foot square alphabet foam blocks. I told them I thought they could make an obstacle course. They were very excited for the first few minutes when they had the same ideas. But then she wanted to put the letter 'Z' back in the foam outline, and he declared it was his....and they were off to the races again. Sigh...

I tried every trick I know to manage these two today - cooperation, reframing, using I statements, rationalization, democracy, problem solving.... - but each time, they were back at it again.

I finally gave up, and turned on TV. I can only handle so much bickering and intervening - and 90 minutes is apparently my max. I was done - but she was not. And then he started too.

Now I don't about your kids, but the models I own don't have the volume control upgrade. More than once I have searched their person for a volume control nob, and I'm telling you - these two just do not have one! I was hoping to at least get "Store Mode" installed by the age of 7, but so far the programming still needs tweaking. Neither of them seems to have easy access to "Sleep Mode" either, and the little one apparently came pre-programmed with a lengthy list of what I call "Bullshit reasons I can't go to bed". Don't worry - I only call them that to my husband (and now you). I prefer to just teach them the four letter words - not the seven letter ones. The little one also came with bite, kick, pinch and scratch mode which my oldest one does not have - or at least refuses to access despite parental encouragement to "hit her back". SO, I was particularly startled to find that they both have GPS and had apparently found the short cut to my LAST NERVE! I was just about to full on lose it myself - I think that t-shirt would be a picture of me having my own meltdown, and it would read "Got Parents? Want mine?".

Then blissfully, like a knight in shining armor, in walked my husband from work - and out walked I - right out the front door, to my car, and off to go get a massage. Don't worry, I kissed hubby before I left.

Amazingly, he was able to rally the two of them before I got home. I was very impressed at his ability to get the Bickerson's back to Friendship Island. Then he asked them to clean up the foam blocks - and they started in again. It was a little validating...okay, really validating...that it wasn't just with me. It was just one of those days..

Tomorrow is another day - and I see a long trip to the park in store so I can get them both to "Too tired to argue" mode. :)

Mackenzie's Rules for High Tea

Every Thursday, my darling mother-in-law (henceforth referred to as M.O.M - my other mom) watches my kids for me. The three of them usually have grand adventures such as trips to the park, the pool or a picnic. During the summers it gives me an entire day off - all to myself. The truest form of luxury when you are a mother is an entire day to yourself.

This summer, I've been spending my Thursdays having High Tea at the local Tea shop with my girlfriend, Jessica - it's a truly Divine tea shop, and she is a wonderful friend. This Thursday was to be no different - except that M.O.M. was not available to watch the kids. Only hubby neglected to tell me this until after I had made plans with my friend - and at 11 pm the night before. SO, as is the custom with motherhood, plans changed. I took them with me to tea. Don't worry, I texted my girlfriend first so there were no surprises.

Now, I should explain that my girlfriend is about to give birth any day - so her tolerance for mischievous children is on the high side at the moment. I should further explain that our favorite tea place, isn't terribly formal. Also, we know the lovely wait staff and owner...so perhaps we are given a little extra leeway which made me feel a little more comfortable bringing them to tea. And thankfully, they have a Children's tea on the menu.

I texted my friend that we were on our way once my kids were buckled in their seats. Getting my kids up, dressed, through the morning routine and into the car is kind of like herding cats - it's best to talk about it after the task is complete. Off we went for the short drive over and like any mother, I used those few moments to remind my children of my behavior expectations and good manners.

We went over saying please and thank you, using inside voices, staying in our seats, keeping our napkins in our lap and our elbows off the table at which point my oldest interrupts
"Except if you are eating a sandwich, right mom?"
I reply in the affirmative.
After what I felt was a thorough review of appropriate behavior for tea, I say "Okay, what are the rules for tea?"
Mackenzie (age 4) says very matter-of-factly "We are not supposed to burp or toot!"
Jack (age 7) "WHAT?!! I'm not going to tea!"
Me "Don't start! Don't even think about starting, Jack"
Mackenzie "I'm not supposed to show my underwear either, am I, mommy?"
Me (stifling a big giggle) "No, honey. You aren't supposed to show your underwear at tea"

So, if ever you need to review the rules for high tea, remember that you aren't supposed to burp or toot and you shouldn't show your underwear. Just in case you weren't clear about that.

Mother of the Year Part 2 - teaching my kids more four letter words

As I've said in previous posts, it's always my greatest joke when I refer to myself as Mother of Year (MoY) - mostly because I am sooooooo very far from it. When I screw up really big as a parent, I usually throw my fists up in the air and say "Yesss! Mother of the Year". The following story was hands down, one of my best MoY moments. Try not to judge me...

When my youngest was born, amongst other issues, she came out with a pretty significant case of reflux. You could actually hear it when she was just a few days old. As any parent of a baby with reflux will tell you, it's very difficult to get through. She had a milk allergy and since most of the meds are dairy based, she could not tolerate them. Of the ones we did try, she screamed for 7-9 hours at a time. I was a lot less willing to try from then on.

Every night, like clock work, she cried and screamed from her reflux from 7-9 pm. I paced the floors singing, rocking, bouncing, you name it trying to calm her. It was a few months into it when we were finally introduced to the reflux wedge. Prior to this she slept on my husband, me or not at all. A reflux wedge, in case you've never seen it, is about 2 feet wide, 2 feet deep, and 2 feet tall - with a 45 degree angle cut to make the wedge. It has additional foam pieces to support the baby and straps - yes, Children's Hospital approved, straps - to strap the baby into at night. So, she would do her crying jag for 2 hours, after which time, I would gently place her into the wedge, strap my baby in, give her a kiss and then leave the room. Yeah, I know, it felt crazy to me at the time too. When you're desperate, you tend to be more willing to review alternative options though!

She wasn't much of sleeper as a result of all of this. She often woke up three times a night between feedings and reflux. She was known for giving back entire bottles - even with thickened liquids - so sometimes we got to do both in one very long night time session. We nicknamed "The Giver". My patients used to ask me if I missed seeing her during the day when I was at work. I would always chuckle and say "Nope. I see her all night long anyway".

Around this time, my anxious with an overactive imagination, then 4 year old was also waking up three times a night - but not the same times as her. He would usually come in with silly requests like 'I need water', 'My pillow is too itchy', 'I don't like my bed' - you get the picture. She would wake at 10, he would wake at 11, she would wake at midnight, he would come in at 1, she would wake at 2 and he would be back in at 3. By then they were all in bed with us because we were desperate for even 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep. This little cycle went on for months. Seriously, months! Now I am a pretty patient soul, especially with my own children, but after a while, our nightly routine and serious lack of sleep had started to wear thin.

One day, my 4 year old was working on a craft project at the kitchen table. He was a perfectionist from day 1, and if he didn't like his work - even the smallest part of it - he would throw the whole thing away. I know - a little dramatic, don't you think? As it happened, he was almost finished with his project when he made the dreaded mistake. In a truly grand gesture, he swept everything off the kitchen table where it crashed to the floor, hung his little head, sighed a full body sigh, and said "Damn it!" in a totally deflated yet irritated tone of voice.

Me "Um, excuse me, are you allowed to say that?"
Him hands on hips like a true Diva, head going from side to side to emphasize his point, said emphatically "I AM 4 YEARS OLD, AND I CAN SAY DAMN IT IF I WANT TO"
Me "Um, no, you can't"
Him "Oh yeah, well I'm going to go tell Daddy"
Me (trying really hard not to laugh, because I know that I am the low reactor in the family) "Go ahead"

Well, my little man marched out toward the door to the garage, flung it open, fully expecting paternal support, and said "Daddy! I SAID 'DAMN IT!' " flings an accusing finger in my direction "and Mommy..."

That was about the time my husband exploded - "GET UP TO YOUR ROOM! YOU DON'T TALK TO YOUR MOTHER LIKE THAT!"

It really scared the bejesus out of my son as he was not accustomed to being yelled at, and he ran to his room very upset. Hubby and I waited for him to clear the corner before we started laughing.

Hubby "Where did he get that from? We've been so careful not to say it"
Me "I know! It's probably some kid at daycare whose parents swear in front of them."

We tried to isolate the source of his new found vocabulary, but coming up with nothing, we felt confident blaming others.

A few nights later, there I was, trying desperately to get some sleep when the baby started crying. I got her settled, was just about to fall asleep when Jack came in and said "I need new socks". I told him to go back to bed. I had just started to drift off when the baby was crying again - this time for milk (okay Rice milk). I got her squared away, started to close me eyes, and there was poor Jack again "I need some chocolate milk". Me "No you don't, go back to sleep". No sooner did I start to fall back asleep, then the baby starts in again. I get her settled once more and it's now close to 1 am. I had just fallen asleep when I hear Jack in the doorway for the third time "I don't like my room". Then I hear myself sigh a full body sigh, and say "Damn it!" in a totally deflated yet irritated tone of voice. My husband starts cracking up laughing next to me!
Hubby "It was YOU!"
Me "Damn it! Why do I always have to be the one to teach them four letter words? Yep - that's me - Mother of the Year!!".

And while, I am still pretty careful not to swear in front my my kids during the day, more than once I have caught myself swearing in the middle of the night when my kids have woken me up!

The Ant Farm

When my oldest was 3 1/2 yrs old, he was, to put it mildly - terrified of bugs. He was the anxious sort, and no amount of reasoning would change his mind. One day, he came home from preschool to tell me that he had seen small black ants (they were Argentine ants - totally harmless). The next day he told me that he touched one, and he wasn't afraid. It was a proud moment for us both, and like any mom wanting to help their child get past a fear, I praised him for being so courageous. Insert Rookie Mom Mistake here.

My youngest was 6 months old at the time, and had medical issues which required a lot of our time and energy. I was also working outside the home full time, so there wasn't much time for relaxation or myself. To get through this time period, I had a nightly ritual of taking a nice hot bath - all by myself. I could clear my head, process my day, and just let my mind go blank.

Of course, having to adjust to a new baby in the house is always hard on their sibling. My oldest was smart though, and he figured out that he could get my undivided attention if he waited for me to get in to the tub. I felt guilty about working at the time, and even more guilty that he wasn't getting near the attention he had been, so I didn't make him go back to bed when he came to visit me. It ended up being a great time for he and I to catch up with each other and spend some time just the two of us. It also gave him the opportunity to share parts of his day that we otherwise did not hear about.

On one such occasion, not too long after he had touched the ant, he informed me that he had made an ant farm. I asked him to tell me more and he went on to explain that he and a few other kids had poured a little bit of water out for the ants to drink. Then they moved dirt around for them, and on and on he went with his story. Sometimes, when he would continue on, I would lose focus of what he was saying ten minutes into his monologue. Then he said this
Him "We collected the ants and made an ant farm".
Me "Mm-hmm." pause "Wait, in your classroom?"
Him "No. In a cup"
Me "Oh. Okay. Did you bring the cup in to your class and then fill up your ant farm?"
Him "No, we made the ant farm in the cup. The teacher said we had to leave the cups outside."
Me "Oh. So did you let them go at the end of the day?"
Him "No, they're still in the cup"
Me "Oh. Okay. At school?"
Him "No. I brought them home in Daddy's car"
Me (WHAT!?!?!?!?) "What do you mean, buddy?"
Him "I put the ants in the cup, then I gave them dirt so they could build a home."
Me (panic level rising) "Is the cup still in Daddy's car?"
Him "No"
Me (oh thank god!)
Him "It's downstairs" he tells me this proudly
Me "What do you mean it's downstairs?"
Him "I brought it in and put it in the kitchen."
Me "Honey, were there still ants in the cup?" (insert sinking feeling here)
He proudly tells me "Yeah, but don't worry. They can't escape. I put rocks on them to hold them down"
Me (oh no! oh no! oh no! oh no!) it's amazing how fast you can get out of a tub when you realize your 3 yr old brought ants into your house

Suffice it to say, the ants had all escaped by this time. Jack was crushed that his new buddies had gone away. I was crushed that my ant free house no longer existed.

The ants moved into my kitchen and set up a nice little home though. Every spring they come out to visit, and we get to remember the time that Jack brought home the ant farm.

The Mysterious Nest in my 4 year olds hair

Well, it has been quite a day around my house - quite a week or two really. You see, not too long ago, our dog, Abby, who is quite the mouser (as opposed to our faithfully departed, beloved cat Ariel who turned her nose up at the thought of even looking for a mouse) brought us a nice sized rat...from the back yard, through the dog door, past the kitchen, into the living room, and dropped it on our Christmas tree skirt. Seriously. I have a pic - but I think it's one you want to skip seeing. It's not gross looking but the idea of it just gives me the shivers! EWW!

Our kids are afraid of furry woodland critters such as these and since hubby and I enjoy sleeping free of kids who are having rodent nightmares, we took to referring to them as "Mickey Mouse" aka a field mouse and "Ratatouille" aka field rats. We have tried every manner of getting rid of these rodents, but they mostly just taunt us by moving the bait or removing the sticky traps all together to parts unknown. They had torn down a piece of insulation under the house and the dog was tearing up the carpet trying to get to it/them - and well, we had had enough. It was time for professional help.

Wait - let me back up - I live in the woods, where we have coyotes, rabbits, every manner of bird you can think of and lord knows what else. We are only talking about a few very destructive rodents - this was NOT an infestation. If we had been infested, the title of this blog entry would have been "We've Moved to Our New House!". I'm tolerant, but I have limits!

Okay, where was I? SO, the pro's came out, sprayed to get rid of all of our friendly stinging flying creatures and a few Hobo spiders, set traps in the crawl space and "bait stations" around the fence. A week later (this past Monday) they returned to "empty" the traps - but there were no rodents. The bait was eaten, but no rodents. I felt somewhat validated at that moment. We have never had a mole problem, but one popped up - ironically, UNDER the bait station. These are frontier critters - they don't go easily!

Two days later a swarm - and I am not exaggerating here - a swarm of carpenter ants came INTO our garage! We had also never had carpenter ants prior to eliciting the help of pest pros. We've had other ants, but that's another post. We had ourselves a little spray and stomp fest while ducking the flying ants at the same time. I'm sure we looked just about as close to crazy as possible in our garage stomping, ducking, running, etc.

Here's the Critter Count (like on Deadliest Catch) - in case your keeping track:
Mice eliminated = 0
Rats eliminated = 0
Moles moving in = 1+
Ants moving in = 100+

We called the company and out they came again. By now this poor gentleman had been in our crawl space three or four times. It was beginning to feel like a relationship I didn't really want. In order to get to our crawl space, you must first enter the secret closet under the stairs, remove all kids shoe's and coat's which they have piled on the floor of said closet, move the Thanksgiving dinner table leaf, and claw your way through the adult hanging coats in the dark, find the shiny gold handle somewhere on the floor, then pull. In other words, you gotta WANT to get down there or else you would give up long before this. As you can imagine, after 3-4 visits to the underworld, a mess begins to build. AND THIS - is how it all relates to the mysterious mass in my 4 year old's hair.

The last time my bug guy came to call, my kiddos were on their way to vacation with Grandma. Hubby was at work - and I was blissfully alone, with SILENCE! AHHH! That ended thanks to the doorbell ringing and my ferocious two dogs - okay, they aren't actually ferocious, they just think they are. Once the pest thing was taken care of, I was free to sit down, have a glass of wine, watch my favorite show, and relax in peace and quiet. But who are we kidding here - I'm a mom - I had the opportunity to clean without small people around making new messes where I had just cleaned up old messes! With the addition of the crawl space cribbles everywhere, I had to vacuum. HAD to!

And as I am vacuuming, I notice, under my TV cabinet, a small pile of brown fur. It wasn't moving, so I decided to take a closer look. Upon further inspection, it appeared to be brown hair - and this is weird b/c no one has brown hair in my family. I thought Barbie had succumbed to an ill fate or was perhaps sporting a new do depending on who had gotten to her - the dogs or the 4 yr old.

Fast forward to yesterday, when we arrived at the vacation spot, I was informed, that my 4 yr old's curly and tangly hair had balled up to new proportions. Grandma was thinking of cutting it, but I'm a pro and reassured her that I would take care of it. It was the little one's bed time though, and she was in no shape for a comb out. We agreed to tackle it this morning. Thankfully I did not look at said mass prior to bed. It would have haunted me for sure!

WELL - this was NOT her usual mass of tangles. This was 3 inches wide by about 4 inches long and a good 3/4" thick or so with no start or end point that I could see. It was somewhere between a rat's nest, a dread lock, and a small-woodland-creature-may-be-encased-in-there kind of problem. Maybe I should coin a new term - the rat lock.

An hour later, I was still making my way towards the bulk of the rat lock in my 4 yr old's hair. I started to notice that parts of her hair, around her hairline - especially around her face - were noticeably shorter than 48 hours ago. As I am making my way through the nest, I notice that other pieces seem to be at odd lengths as well. Then, 70% of the nest suddenly came out in my hand. The more I combed, the more came out! By this time I am covered in her hair, a wad of it is balled up next to me, and she is laying on the couch whining about how LONG it is taking me.

Apparently, while her hair was up in a pony tail, and a few wayward strands came loose from their band, she decided to take matters into her own hands or rather scissors - and CUT her hair. Only she cut her hair both at home (the ball of fur under the TV stand) and here on vacation. There's one big problem though - she's 4, and has the fine motor skills and accuracy of a 4 year old, so she appeared to have just kept hacking away at it until she was satisfied. Since her hair was up in a pony tail at the time of the trim, many of the now cut strands were secure in the rubber band yet mobile at both ends and free to wrap themselves up around the hair that was left creating the mysterious nest in my 4 yr old's hair!

90 minutes of tenuous combing later, and she looks - well, like a mess.

I haven't figured out how to fix her hair yet, but I do know to hide all of the scissors now.

Be Specific Part II (and other Rookie Mom Mistakes)

From time to time, my oldest’s teachers pull me aside to share stories. I truly cherish these stories, and as such, I share them with you.

My oldest, since discovering his hands, has always had a fidget - something small that could be carried around for the day. The fidgets were never the same from day to day - one day a quarter, the next day a paper clip, a small toy, etc. Fidgets have always been a part of our lives, so we don’t question it. When my eldest started Kindergarten, I pulled the teacher (whom I had already worked with professionally so had the benefit of the doubt) aside to let her in on the fidget issue. She was supportive to a point...as am I. Some fidgets just aren’t appropriate. Once my cherub found an office rubber band - which I only discovered as it sailed past my head. Fidgets had limitations after that. It was time to be more specific.

A few weeks of Kindergarten passed, and my oldest’s teacher pulled me aside one day after school. She held her hand out and whispered while laughing “I need you to start frisking your child before school”. I look down at her hand and to my horror, see a sharp plastic molly (the cone shaped little numbers that you use to hold screws into the wall). Even more horrific - it looked like it might have been chewed on (in lieu of gum). From then on, each morning started with a pat down from Daddy that went like this.

Dad “Okay, raise your arms (pats child along torso). Good, turn around (pats down each leg). Show me your pockets and hands (child dutifully obeys and pulls pocket linings out). Okay - do you have anything sharp or pointy on your body (later we learned to add ‘or in your backpack’ to this interrogation (be more specific) - but that’s another story)?” Child shakes their head ‘no’. Daddy pats our little kindie on the butt and says “Have a good day!”. I usually had to walk away in the middle of this routine to stop laughing. Honestly, what other parent goes through this as a part of their morning routine? Get dressed, brush teeth, eat breakfast, frisk child.

Fast forward to first grade. Another fantastic teacher (I should mention that I also work at my child’s school, so I know these teachers well) has graciously agreed to help push my cherub to expand the length of their writing in their journal. During Spring Conference Week, she updated me on the progress. She began with what they were working on in reading and math, and dutifully shows me my cherub’s work. Then she brings out the writing journal my cherub has been working on. Each blank journal page had a blank space for drawing picture and seven or so lines for writing beneath. This is where the story gets funny.

The teacher shows me the first month or so of writing - each page had three very short sentences written on it. The teacher explains that she encouraged my cherub to write more one day by saying “I want you to go back to your desk and fill up the page”. Like most seven year old's, my cherub takes most things literally. SO, when the teacher told my cherub to go back and “fill up the page” my cherub did exactly as they were told...and wrote zero’s...over and over again for four of the seven lines. The teacher cracked a sheepish smile, and I teasingly said “That’s what we call a Rookie Mistake at my house”. Now she knows to be more specific too!!!

My Creative Goals for 2010

Greener Pastures Lay Just Ahead

At the end of last year, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I was in the middle of a life transition - having already been booted (against my will) from one shore and having no idea what the other shore was, let alone how to find it.

I should give a short-ish history here - in Feb. 2009, my family was involved in a car accident - we were rear ended on what they call Death Hwy. I was mostly concerned about my kids and husband at the time - not really paying attention to myself at all. My then three year old had a mild concussion, and my then 6 year old was complaining of neck and stomach pain. Being in the health care profession, I quickly checked them out and knew they were going to be okay.

We went our separate ways once all info was exchanged. As we drove the rest of the way home, only then did I realize how much pain I was in. 4 months later, most of my body had healed but my shoulder had not. I went for an MRI - where they numb your joint before injecting it with dye. We didn't know the extent of the damage then. During the last two tests, they placed my arm overhead and it dislocated. An ER visit later, a trip the orthopedic surgeon, and last July, I was in surgery having a rotator cuff repair, a capsular shift (ligament tightening) and a labral repair (sewing it back down to the bone). The unfortunate part of the dislocation (aside from the obvious) was that it caused nerve damage from my neck to my fingers. I had lost function, and much of the sensation in my hand. My surgeon told me it would be two years before we would know how much damage was permanent.

I was left in shock the day they delivered that news. Scared for what I did not and would not know for a very long time, and once again, amazed at how quickly your life can turn on a dime.

Prior to all of this, I was an avid seamstress, loved to quilt, and was always happy to teach another soul how to sew too. My friends were in awe of my ability to sew my own clothes and not have them look handmade. They always teased me b/c I would shrug my shoulders and say "It's mostly straight seams". Once the shoulder injury occurred, and especially since the surgery, I have been unable to sew. Sewing was my creative outlet, my joy, my peace, my salvation on really bad days. I honestly did not know what to do. And that's how I was booted from one shore, lost somewhere at sea, not really knowing if there was another shore to find.

Left with few choices, and a bum arm, I had to find a NEW creative outlet. I started getting back into paper crafting which led me to mixed media collage - which led me to Stampington, and all of their wonderful publications. Then one day, while visiting my favorite craft store, I saw Kelly Rae's book. I picked it up, and much to my surprise, it was what I had been looking for. With her guidance, I was able to paint and collage just as I had always dreamed of doing. Her book led me to her blog, and eventually to her e-course, which is how I met all of my wonderful Flyers. I seriously love you guys!

Once I found her blog, I also visited the Mondo Beyondo site - and though I haven't had the chance to take their course, I started my own list of big and small dreams I had for 2010. I was amazed, most recently, to realize that several of my wants were now realities:

1) Find a core group of women (my tribe) who were also crafters/artistic who would be supportive and cheer me on (with our site now reaching 730+, I think I can safely say that I have met this goal)
2) Start my creative biz for photography and jewelry (met)
3) Start a blog (met)
4) Participate in Craft/Art Shows (met)
5) Take a creative course - I wasn't specific on what I wanted - just that I wanted to learn more and increase my skills (met)
6) Sell my jewelry items in a boutique (owner met, offer made, just need to finalize)
7) Announce my creative biz on my personal FB page - I haven't done this one yet - but I'm thinking about it

I had other personal dreams, maternal dreams, and even marital dreams - but those are for me alone. Many of those prayers have been answered too!

I'm still not sure where the sea is taking me, what the other shore looks like, or how to find it, but I've already taken Flying Lessons and now I can take my dreams and soar to what will be rather than exhaust myself treading water in what was! That realization was a gift in itself!

Stay tuned for tomorrow - Be Specific Part II will be up. Be Specific Part I is in my June blogs - it's a funny one!

Hugs and love to all!

An Amazing Discovery - Kids have Emotional Bank Accounts too!

Today, I made the most amazing discovery - kids have emotional bank accounts! I know this might seem obvious to some and crazy to others, but the reality is they do! It finally clicked for me today!

My 7 year old recently told me that he needed more individual time with me without his little sister. This might sound like sibling rivalry or petty jealousy, but he's not that type. Even as a baby he didn't cry unless he truly needed something. He isn't a child of many words due to his expressive communication disorder, so when he talks, I listen. The first time he mentioned it, we went out on a date together - pottery painting, then ice cream. It was SO much fun! We promised to do it again and at least a couple of times each month. Two weeks later, our summer started. He and I got to spend a few days together while his sister finished up preschool. We were both worn out from the school year. During the last few weeks of school, he had become cranky and at times defiant - not at all like himself. I'm not sure he even knew he needed one on one time with me until after our week together. His emotional bank account was temporarily full though - so he was able to tolerate his little sister much better the following week.

My 4 year old is a bit of a different story. First off, she's been vocal since day one. She is persistent, to say the least, about getting her needs met. Her primary need has always seemed to be me. I don't mind, it's just an observation in how different my oldest and youngest are. Even at a time when most toddlers are leaving their mothers lap to explore the world, she would get a toy of interest and bring it back so she could sit on my lap AND explore. She's not in my lap nearly as much anymore, but she still seems to need lap/snuggle time a couple of times a day. Usually this need gets met at night, just before bed. Today was another story!

My youngest is NOT a morning person which is an understatement. We have jokingly dubbed her Princess Charmingless and referred to her as "it" when it comes to whose turn it is to wake her. The convo usually goes "Uh-uh! I woke it yesterday! It's your turn to wake it today!" After a little milk, she is usually her normal cheerful self. For no particular reason, she seemed to just wake up in a mood today. This morning, while I was goofing off on FB, she was laying next to me watching Backyardigans. She kept rubbing her feet (hard) on my legs, digging her heels in etc, despite my two requests not to do so. When she went for my legs the third time, screeching in my direction (a true no-no in my house), I closed my laptop, picked her up, placed her on my lap and asked her what was wrong. She snuggled in, rubbed her face all over mine, and shrugged her shoulders. We had a little chat about good and bad ways to get my attention, and then she stayed there - half on, half off my lap for a good thirty minutes. She squeezed my arms around her a couple of times, gave me kisses, and then was happy as a clam. She was happy for the rest of the day.

It was then that I realized, that kids have emotional bank accounts - just like we do. It doesn't matter that I spent the entire day playing with them yesterday, that we spent hours playing in the sprinklers, and made smoothies. That was what I did for them yesterday - but in their minds, what have I done for them today? Let's face it, we all have days when we wake up - accounts empty. Many of us are probably "spent" pun intended, by the end of each day. As adults, most of us have coping strategies to manage this. That's an adult skill - much like recognizing our own needs and vocalizing them too. Children need our help to recognize their needs for them!

I'm going to try to be more conscious of this in the days to come. Of stopping to take notice when they are getting my attention in all the wrong ways - and instead of addressing not just the behavior, but also addressing their empty emotional bank accounts!

Of course as I write this, my two, who are normally buddies every day, have started squabbling with each other. A sure sign that they have had enough of each other - and their sibling emotional bank accounts are full - or maybe overdrawn. Either way, I've got to go!

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Do you think your kids have emotional bank accounts too?

Hugs and love to all! I hope you are all having or have had, a wonderful day!

Hi blog! I've missed you! Funny convo w/Mackenzie at the bottom!

Hello Blog! Have you missed me? I've missed you! I know, I've been seriously MIA this past week! Well - it wasn't for nothing!

First up - a heat wave in Seattle! Good Lawd (that's lord if you weren't raised in the land of ya'll like I was). It's been in the 90's - which isn't that hot unless you don't have AC! Yep! That's right! We DO NOT have AC here! It's crazy isn't it? Nothing makes this girl crankier than my indoor thermometer reaching 88 degrees or more during the day and only cooling off to 82 degrees at night!! I'm not sure who I morph into, but she' is NOT nice! By day 2 I had HAD IT! Which means that I also let hubby have it! Don't worry, he knows not to take it personally - it's usually short lived and it's just the heat talking. He's a smart man though - and he loaded me and the kids up for a trip to Lowe's! We bought heat reflector stuff (that's the technical term for it, by the way) for the skylight which is an awesome source of heat during the winter - but turns my home into a green house in the summer! Anyway, you're supposed to apply it to the INSIDE of the window - but I will save you from the stream of explicatives I heard come from my gentle soul of a husband's mouth while he attempted - 40 feet in the air, on a ladder, on the steps, with a spray bottle, and a 4 foot x 2 foot reflective sheet with adhesive on the back of it - to install it. After 30 minutes, both of us getting coated in the spray (which was apparently supposed to be washed off IMMEDIATELY), he gave up and went to the roof! At least there I could not hear any of the explicatives! An hour or so later, small children taunting him from below, me frantically trying to get them away from the area - I had the following convo with Mackenzie (my 4 yr old):

Mack "Mommy, did you teach Daddy how to go up on the roof?"
me with a straight face, not missing a beat said "Yes I did!"

Now I know it isn't right to lie, but I just couldn't resist this one - especially after the following July 4th convo I had with Jack (my 7 year old):
Let me set the scene - b/c it's important to the story
We're driving (following friends who also have two kids) to a 4th of July BBQ. Both of the husband's were driving - this way we mom's can keep the kids under control - and then this happened:
Jack "Mommy, how come the girls always ride on this side and the boys always drive?"
as I am about to reply he says "Lemme guess, it's b/c boys are better drivers?"

Don't worry friends, I corrected him while Daddy CRACKED up laughing! No support at ALL!

Second reason I've been MIA - I've been creating jewelry like mad, setting up an Etsy shop, and trying for hours to take a decent pic of my jewelry! My friend is a professional photographer and is going to help out! I'll be posting soon! In the meantime, if you just wanted to stop by and enjoy my new banner, my Etsy shop is - you guessed it - I Need to Color!

Hope you are all cool, relaxed, and inspired! Love and Hugs!

The Daily Grind - I mean schedule

I've posted this on a couple of sites - but said I would post it here too. So this is my daily schedule - it's like the foundation of the house. I deviate it from it when needed, but always circle back to it. Every house hold runs differently - you have to find what works or you and yours.

6:30 - wake up
7-7:30 Wake up kids
8:00-8:10 - everyone out the door (I leave earlier a few days a week)
8:35 the oldest is dropped off at school by hubby
8:50-9 the little one is dropped off at daycare by hubby
noon - i'm eating lunch in front of my computer at work or socializing with friends
3:15 - school pick up for the oldest
3:45- leave work unless I have a meeting
4 pick up the little one - snack in the car
4:30 arrive home
4:30-5 (ish) the kids and I take a 30 minute unwind break. They can watch TV - but it gets turned off after 30 minutes. I set a timer
5:00-5:30 - homework for the eldest, the little one like to "help" me with dinner
5:30 they start to pick up their toys, put books up, get backpack ready for the next day, set the table, etc
6 :00 dinner is on the table
7:00 bath's for the kids, teeth brush, etc
7:30 book and snuggle - hubby wraps up dinner dishes, cleans the kitchen
8:00 lights out - kids like to fall asleep next to me - hubby moves them later
8:30 - I confess- I play games on FB (don't judge me)
by 9 I'm doing creative biz stuff
11 - hang out with hubby
11:30 he usually falls asleep and i keep working
12 - try for lights out, but often its 1 am (like now)

I know it sounds rigid and compartmentalized - but it works for all of us. They know exactly what to expect each day and in some way - it helps them feel more secure. Hope this gives you some ideas for setting a schedule for your own life :)

Conversations with Jack

Today in the car, my 7+ yr old says out of nowhere "Jujubees! Hey mom, in Avatar, there's this guy who says 'Run or that blue monster will eat your'" - he pauses, looks at me quizzically and asks (with true innocence) "Am I allowed to say God Damn?".

Me (with my matter-of-fact mom tone) "No. You aren't".
Jack "Okay - then he says 'Run or that blue monster will eat your blah, blah jujubees!" then cracks up laughing "Isn't that a great word mom? Jujubees!"

I'm not sure if I want to know all of the other thoughts rolling around in his head!

Lover's on the Sea Wall (Jamaica)

Last summer, my husband and I went to Jamaica for a long overdue honeymoon (7 years, but who's counting). We stayed at the Inn across from the public beach. It was SO amazing to watch the nightlife, the culture of the people.

Each morning, the grandma's came for their exercise and brought their grandchildren with them. During the day, mothers came with multiple children in tow (so cute to watch). In the evenings, throngs of young men and women came to the public beach after work. They hung out with their friends, flirted with those they were interested in, and stayed 'til predawn hours. Some travelers might have been irritated by the noise, but we loved to sit on our balcony and soak up their energy.

The night before we left, I saw this sweet, young couple, obviously on a date, sitting quietly on the sea wall at sunset. This picture reminds me of the time my husband and I spent reconnecting in Jamaica. It makes me smile each time I see it, and I hope it does the same for you!

Only 3.5 Days Left!

This is a short one - only 3.5 days left in the school year, then it's house purging for a few days, then all creative biz, all the time! I'm SO excited!

My camera is back and I have new ideas for a series I want to create in pictures... I don't want to give too much away, but I think my years of junk'ing (I mean antiquing, of course) are finally going to pay off! In the meantime, I thought I would show one of my favorite pics. Look for it in my next post!

I have an idea for a new series of mixed media pieces I want to work on - It's called Scenes From Her Life. It's been rolling around in my head for some time now, but my ideas hadn't quite crystallized. Today they seemed to gel!

I also started scratching out an idea for a second series I want to create this summer called Always In My Heart. I haven't figured it out completely yet, but I'm super excited to get to work on it! I think it's the culmination of years of life experience and thoughts rolled into one.

I want to start a third series on women from the 50's - it's an idea in it's infancy though..... I sketched one such lady out tonight, and my 4 yr old thought I should "cut the lady out and give it to (her)". I saw what she did to the last paper dolls I gave her though...it wasn't pretty!

I'm off to bed! Sometimes it's hard for me to sleep when my brain is in create mode! Fingers crossed...

Be Brave! Be Very Brave!!

I had a profound moment of realization this morning that I wanted to share. This past Thursday, we took our two cherubs, ages 7 and 4, to view their (potentially) new private school for next year. It was a long process and there was much agonizing over switching them from their current schools to a new one, but ultimately, given their needs, we felt a smaller environment was better for them both.

The public school employee in me feels the need to add this Disclaimer: I have nothing against public schools, and I am fortunate to live near and work for fantastic districts with truly great public schools, so this post should in no way convey otherwise. Whew - conscious alleviated!

My 7 year old son has severe generalized anxiety disorder. I won’t go into details, and as a mother (try to hear this with love for the many well intentioned suggestions we have received), I would appreciate it if you not offer your suggestions on how he can overcome this. Trust me when I tell you, we’ve been there and we’ve done that. I digress. When my son opened his car door to go into his new school, he we visibly shaking but also working too hard to keep it together to make eye contact with me (what is it about making eye contact with our mothers that drops all of our protective guards against our emotions?). He continued to climb out of the car, despite his fear.

“I’m VERY uncomfortable”.
I started our usual calm down routine.
“Okay, take a deep breath”
“I tried that already and it didn’t work”. he hopped down from the car.
I placed a hand on his chest to stop him gently, placed another on his upper back to help him feel more grounded.
“Would Daddy and I EVER let anything happen to you?”.
He shook his head no,
“Would Daddy and I EVER take you some place where you might get hurt?”
He shook his head no.
“We love you SO much, buddy! Daddy and I will ALWAYS keep you safe.”
“I know, Mom”.
“I know you’re scared. I know you feel uncomfortable. I need you to trust me right now and just go in and take a look around. I promise we WON’T leave you”.
Still too afraid to talk, but willing to trust me, we walked to the doors of the school.

We went to my daughters class first. Like most 4 year old's, she was nervous. After a few minutes, she started to warm up. She didn’t want us to leave, but she was at least willing to look around. Her new teacher showed her their learning centers. My daughter loves Legos and playing in her kitchen, so I thought for sure that the Lego and kitchen stations would hook her in (I was wrong!). She saw all of the other kids working with crayons and scissors at their desk, and said “I need to color”. I swear I am not making this up - but I couldn’t have been more proud of her for conquering her fears with a mom approved coping strategy!

My son remained with us this entire time. After thirty minutes or so, he was ready to view his classroom. We walked in quietly, hoping to observe and not interrupt, but the welcoming nature of this school foiled our plan. The teacher introduced my son for the entire class to say hello to him. I should add this bit - there is nothing my son hates more than being the center of attention in a group of strangers. It’s like that dream we have all had about walking down a street or going to school naked while onlookers point and laugh. Truly, this scenario is my son’s version of hell. He was sheet white by this time and ducking behind Dad. The teacher, seeing his fear, asked if there was anyone else who was my son’s age. A little boy smiled excitedly and raised his hand. He had also been new a few months before, and he shared his experience. Before we new it, the student walked right up to my son and asked how many teeth he had lost. This is the primary topic of conversation amongst seven year olds. Turns out they had lost the same number of teeth and in the exact same places. Their first names started with the same letter. Then my son’s new friend dragged him over to the table where they were learning math. After that, my son asked us to leave (you could have picked up my husbands and my jaws off the floor!). I could tell he was still scared, but I have never been so proud of him in my life!

There is something truly brave about being so young, being asked to conquer your worst fears, and trusting the adults around you to keep you safe. It was then that I realized that the past years (yes years) of my life, have been steady lessons in bravery. I had not recognized them as such, but that’s exactly what they were. I’m not one to get super religious, but this morning, I realized the parallel between my sons life (having to be brave when you really want to hide) and my own life (being brave in the face or my own worst fears); having to trust a source of power higher than yourself (parents in my sons case - and God in mine). I realized during this profound moment, that no matter how scared I am feeling, no matter how much reassurance I need, there is always a source higher than myself that I can lean on, trust, and have faith that I am being led down the correct road, even if I can’t see beyond the next bend!

SO, my new motto for myself is: Be Brave! Be Very Brave!

Rookie Mistakes (Be Specific Part 1)

Be Specific - words to live by

Both of my kids love gum. It occupies their mouths - which reduces the non stop stream of consciousness that pours from them. My oldest was five before the first gum experience. My youngest started at age three. Little bit was in speech therapy already to work on coordinating suck-swallow-breathe (she was more of a breathe while swallowing girl which resulted in choking for her and gray hairs for me and dad) and the speech therapist thought it might help her learn how to chew on the sides of her mouth (another skill she hadn’t mastered yet). SO, I let her try gum much earlier than I planned. They were very small pieces to begin with and gradually, as she demonstrated mastery (aka stopped swallowing the gum), we let her have Trident size pieces of gum. Since my ears sometimes need a break from the constant chatter and dueling conversations between myself and each child (seriously - when do they learn to take turns talking?!) gum flows freely in my house. We buy it in bulk from Costco (I’m not exaggerating). The other night the little one had a last minute piece of gum before bed. Don’t ask me WHY she HAD to have this piece of gum, but she did. And honestly, it wasn’t worth the ensuing battle so soon before bedtime. Just prior to our usual book and snuggle time, I said the following (insert rookie mistake here) “You need to get rid of your gum before bedtime”. She ran out of my bedroom, disposed of the gum, and returned. Both of my cherubs passed out, and as I rounded the corner to head downstairs, I saw this...

Apparently the wall is as good a place as any to "get rid of your gum".

Guess I should have been more specific with her.

Mother of the Year

This is hands down my favorite joke in life - that I am Mother of the Year (hence forth referred to as MoY). If it’s one thing my children have given me (other than the flu, Rota virus, and several trips to the ER) it’s the gift of humility. Prior to having babies I considered myself to be an articulate and on-the-ball kind of girl. I used my ADHD to juggle five projects at once and was pretty successful at it. And then I had children - the blood flow in my brain went South to the belly and never seemed to return once said cherub was born. While on the surface I try to appear all knowing and wise in front of my children (and apparently I have done a good job of snowing hubby as well), in reality, I have made more than my fair share of rookie mistakes. When I make a particularly BIG screw up (don’t worry, no one gets hurt, but the kids usually expand their four letter word vocabulary), I always raise my arms in the air almost fist pump style, and say “Mother of the Year! YESSSSSS!”. I won’t tell you the four letter word I’m actually thinking in my head - but it starts with an ‘f’. And the MoY joke goes on.

I confess that I have more than my fair share of medical and child development knowledge - but like every mother - I have my moments when I have NO idea just what the heck I am doing. The following are a few of my favorites - try not to pee on yourself while you are laughing at me. You’ll just be wet, and I will feel sad - neither one of us will win. Having said that - have fun.

The first time I taught my oldest a four letter word, my foot accidentally collided with the door frame and split my toes between numbers three and four - think Mork and Mindy ‘Manu! Manu!”. I crumbled to the ground and having just seriously injured my toes, I said with great exclamation “OH SHIT! (pause for a sec to get my breath) SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!”. I have a high pain tolerance - I did four days of natural labor with my first - but there is just something about splitting your toes that will drop you to the floor. I didn’t stop to think that my 14 month old might pick up this juicy little word. He promptly repeated “OH SHIT!” (now there’s a first word for the baby book). Thinking I was more clever than him, I didn’t miss a beat and said “Thats right, Oh shoot!”. He repeated the original word again, and I repeated my phrase. This little dance went on for a few minutes with him maintaining a confused look on his face. The next day he decided to test his new word again. He dropped something and said “Oh shit!” Now I admit, I was impressed that he used it appropriately, but I didn’t want this particular phone call home from daycare. I once again said “That’s right, Oh shoot!”. He and I played out this little scenario for weeks and weeks until finally, one day, he said “Oh shoot!” - and I felt triumphant! I had undone my own rookie mistake! I was a goddess!

Fast forward a few more months when we went to visit Nana (aka my mom). Let me back up for a second - I have a truly fantastic mom. I strive to be as great as her, and I cannot recall her making any of my rookie mistakes (though she disputes this). I had not shared my little four letter word incident with her because - well, she’s my mom, and I didn’t want to disappoint her. SO, there we were - Nana, me and my oldest. In a true twist of irony, Nana accidentally kicked the corner of the chair (and split her own toes) and exclaimed as she crumpled to the ground “Oh SHIT!” - I know, makes you wonder where I learned it from, doesn’t it? And my oldest, not missing a beat, starts marching around the living room like he’s a trombone player in a parade saying over and over again “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”. Nana just about swallowed her face when she saw my oldest and his little marching band explicative routine. And I, having just witnessed my own mother’s mistake, and wanting to truly mess with her, didn’t miss a beat and said with disdain “Oh nice, Nana”. She couldn’t apologize enough. She felt genuinely bad about teaching him a new four letter word. All the while my oldest is still marching around “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!”. I shook my head at her in disbelief and disappointment. I let this little guilt trip go on for a few more minutes before I let her off the hook. We shared a great laugh over it. And that was just the beginning of my climb toward MoY.

Just wait until I tell you about the time I taught him “DAMN IT!” Now THAT was a doozie!

Conversations with My 7 year old - science projects

My 7 year old has a play date this weekend. I told him he needed to clean his room. He told me that his play date also had a messy room and wouldn't mind. And then this happened.

Me "You should still clean up your room so you can find your toys."

Him "Yeah, probably. I've been doing a LOT of science experiments lately." he leans in as if he is sharing a juicy secret. "I'm not following the directions though".

Me [inwardly groaning. GEEZ! What did he do now?] I nod my head and he continues.

"I'm just making up my own experiments. " he say confidently.

[me - NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!]

"I made a potion" he says proudly

[me - CRAP! CRAP! CRAP! I knew I shouldn't have encouraged learning at home]

"It spilled" he informs me nonchalantly.

[me - Well, of course it spilled!]

Note to self - Do we have matches?
2nd Note to self - Check house for matches. Hide if found.

"I should probably clean that up. Nahhhhh" he says waving it away.

[me - WHAT!? WHAT!? Nah? YES YOU SHOULD CLEAN THAT UP! YOU SHOULD HAVE CLEANED THAT UP WHEN IT SPILLED! Oh god - when did it spill? Is that what the smell is in his room? I thought it was rotten food or a milk cup!]

Conversations with myself - 'Okay - don't yell, don't yell. Deep breath and stay calm. Put on your patient mother face and keep an explanatory tone. Do I even want to know what was in that potion? No, NO, I definitely don't want to know. Stay calm, count to ten, and start.'

Me "First, you're not allowed to do science experiments by yourself. [why the HELL did he think he could do science experiments by HIMSELF!?] Second, if something spills in your room [like the time the egg cracked (it's a future post - you don't want to miss it)] you need to clean it up right then or come get me or Daddy so we can help you".

Him (head hanging) "Sorry, Mom."

Me "I still love you."

Him (head hanging a little less) "I love you too. I'm really sorry, Mom".

Me "I know." [you always are, buddy]

Easter Slacker

Well, it's official. We can add slacker to my list of transgressions against my Mother of the Year award, henceforth referred to as the MoY. I had a mother son date with my oldest (newly age 7 as I write this). Only lately has he been interested in my husband and I again, so we are taking all the opportunities we can get. Anyway, we went to the mall and passed by all the Easter stuff. I silently promised myself that I would return to pick up goodies for my two cherub's baskets. I had another three or four days left until the big E (who can remember time when you have two young children), so I decided to put it off until later. The next day passed, and then the next - there was an Estate Sale with a new friend-girl followed by tea at the most divine tea house I have ever been too - and then there were the Estate Sale treasures we found - but that is another post. In any case, Estate Sale day came and went, and still I had not Easter shopped. I wasn't worried though because I knew I had two more days to pull it together.

On Good Friday, I made my first attempt at sanding one of my Estate Sale treasures. This was a massive mistake on my part as I am still recovering from a car accident(s). So, neck, shoulders and back now screaming at me (and a pounding headache to round out that trifecta), I spent the rest of the day in bed - irritated and medicated. I was supposed to visit the new scrapbook store in town with another friend-girl, but she didn't get back in town in time. It worked out anyway - I was still in bed.

Today, Saturday that is, I had made plans to visit a third friend girl who had recently given birth. She was in desperate need of some girl/mommy time. Her beautiful new baby was nothing like her first baby. My friend girl was now learning one of the hard mommy lessons - you think you have it figured out with the first one and go confidently and competently into the second only to realize (a bit too late) that each one needs it's own individual operators manual. My friend girl was sleep deprived, in need of some hot food and a kind soul to bring her hot Starbuck's. I'm always willing to oblige a fellow addict when it comes to the big S - so I brought her two drinks instead of one. She was more than grateful. As it turns out, her baby is beyond super cute and snacky, and she loves to snuggle. I got almost two hours of baby snuggle time - and I haven't had that in a good three years or so. I know it sounds like I've digressed, but I'm circling back around to my point right now. I stayed a bit longer than I intended to, and even my husband had to text me to ask about dinner. I told him I was holding this sweet baby and seriously thinking about taking her home. He laughed and suggested I pick up McD's on my way back. By the time I got home with dinner, fed the children, bathed them, washed the little one's hair and pinned her down for a tangle comb out, trim and blow dry, it was 8:45 pm. It was long past their bed time, my Saturday before Easter (and it's shopping time) was gone, and now I could add McD's and late bed time to my list of transgressions against the MoY.

Trying to save time tonight, and secretly knowing this was NOT a good idea, I sweet talked my husband into running to the store for said Easter goodies. I asked him to pick up a bag of small Reese's peanut butter cups and two hollow chocolate bunnies - I demonstrated small circles for the former and approximated six inches for the latter. I should back up for a second to say this - I have a great husband, but he is NOT a great grocery shopper. He tries - but unless I am specific, he usually gets the wrong thing. I thought I was specific enough this time, gesticulating wildly to him what I was looking for when I sent him on his way. Pleased that I had solved my own dilemma, and truly thankful that he was saving my slacker mom ass, I turned my attention towards getting the kids in bed. Hubby came home all smiles and proudly showed me the bag...with six gigantic Reese's peanut butter eggs and two, twelve inch tall solid chocolate bunnies. My heart sank, but I had a back up bag of jelly beans. I thought I would be okay. Dont worry - I did not breathe a word of this to said wonderful husband. Nothing will dash future grocery store runs by him than my complaining that he got the wrong thing. Like laundry and mopping, I some day hope to have him trained in the fine art of grocery shopping. Okay - now I am digressing. Back to the story.

I looked at the sad bag of candy, the sad bag of jelly beans that I had already gotten into, and the baskets no longer looked as promising as I had hoped. Then I got to thinking about the items I had for their baskets this year, and comparing them to previous years baskets, I felt, well, like a crappy mom. I hemmed and hawed for a good thirty minutes or so while completing my farm chores on Facebook/Farmville and Country Life (lord, but I have a sick addiction to that game). I tried really hard to justify not going back to the store to pick up what I really wanted. I told myself that the kids would just be happy to GET candy since it's a rarity in our house. Slacker mom didn't win out though - guilt mom did. And there I was - at 11:30 pm the Saturday night before Easter, trapezing back out to the store to get what I really wanted for their baskets.

When I returned home, hubby had already pulled down the Easter paraphernalia and placed it in my craft room chair for my perusal. Did I mention that I also had not yet planned their Easter Egg hunt? In any case, at the predawn hour of 1:00 am, I got it all ready to go. I first had to repair the broken handle of the little ones basket which had mysteriously broken as it rested in the Easter paraphernalia box all year. I would like to tell you that I did something crafty and beautiful but I didn't - I used duct tape. If I could have found the box o' bows left over from Christmas, I would have happily covered up that duct tape in the hopes she wouldn't notice. But I couldn't find said box of bows, and the curved handle now has a distinct corner in it. You could say it's more of a redneck basket theme this year (and yes, I can say redneck - they're my people). As I picked out plastic eggs that coordinated with the cheap baskets, I couldn't help but notice that several of the plastic eggs were heavier than others. There was leftover Pez in the bottom of their baskets and unopened candy.

I sat back and laughed as I opened up still full plastic Easter Eggs from last year that they hadn't eaten. I felt truly silly for worrying so much about the contents of their Easter baskets when clearly - the candy wasn't that important to them.

Happy Easter everyone. Pictures to follow.

The Rope Swing

What is it about a homemade rope swing that beckons you to stop and notice its presence? When I was a little girl, we moved into a new house my dad built (as in actually built). If memory serves, I was 6 years old. Our old house was small - 900 sq. feet. The back yard was even smaller but my parents managed to eke out enough space for an above ground pool (one of those 8 foot circle pools from the 70's and 80's) and the all important metal swing set. I grew up in Florida where the winters were relatively mild and the summer sun could fry an egg. With such variations in temperature, a metal swing set could be a girl's best friend or her ultimate nemesis. I loved nothing more than to spend time outside in the spring sun on my little swing not too cold, not too hot. When we moved, I was sad to see that it would not come with us.

In our new and spacious back yard, there stood a 200 year old oak tree that my parents designed their house around. The back porch seemed to reach out to it, and in gracious return, our majestic tree gave us shade on 95 degree day. Our beautiful oak tree had one massive limb that stretched out a good 20 feet or so. My Dad decided that it was the giant arm of the oak tree that would hold the greatest gift of all - a rope swing.

My Dad picked out the perfect plank of wood. To his builders eye, he could see that it would stand up to the rigors of daily usage and the hot Florida sun. He lovingly drilled two holes in it, cut two pieces of the thickest rope he could find, and began to hang my swing. It took more than one throw, as I recall, for him to get the huge lengths of rope up and over the branch that was 30 feet or so off the ground. He tied the rope to the branch in two places, strung it through the holes in the plank, and knotted them on the underside. And voila - there she stood - my beautiful little rope swing.

As a six year old, I actually turned my nose up at this handmade swing. It wasn't metal. There were was no chain from which it hung. It was NOT the swing I had left behind. Little did I know that it was something much better. After much encouragement from Mom (who herself knew all to well, the hours and days I had ahead of me daydreaming as the wind blew my hair,)I climbed on to give it a try.

I pumped my little legs as hard as I could, and she began to take flight. With each change in my pendulum arc, the rope gently creaked. The creaking sound combined with the cicada's pitch, the birds singing and calling to each other in the overhead canopy, and the frogs croaking in the nearby lake, created their own nature's symphony that gently lulled me into a peaceful silence. I created my own wind as my swing took me higher than that sad little metal version I had used before. My imagination opened up and ran wild. I could be a fairy princess, the queen of everything, my own goddess, the ruler of my little kingdom, or I could just be me. My swing gave me freedom, time to process my day, think my thoughts, get distracted by others, or just spend a few moments in beautiful solitude.




So it should come as no surprise, that I gave a moments pause when I took my daughter down to the local rope swing. I had never been before, but she assured me in her four year old confident voice, that she knew just where to find it - "It's next to the X" she informed me. We crossed the street, and sure enough, it was next to the X - the KOA sign to be more exact, but to a four year old, it was an X.









The tree was not nearly so grand as the oak of my youth, the plank not so lovingly worn, and chain hung where ropes should have been. BUT, once my daughter climbed on and took flight, I could see that it didn't matter. She thrilled in adrenaline filled excitement with the new heights she climbed to. She giggled with delight each time my husband pushed her.

And it was then that I remembered what it was about a rope swing that makes you stop and take notice. It's the pure unbridled joy it gives you each time you come to call.