busy as a Mexican paper wasp.

Y'know how when something kinda bad happens and you just have this sinking feeling that you are on the verge of a landslide of bad happenings?  Well, here we stand (we being my family).

Saturday hubby was cutting some trees down and he got stung by what we think are Mexican paper wasps.  His hand swelled up and he was in a fair bit of pain.  (Man-pain, though.  Which for comparison's sake:  a man being in a "fair bit of pain" = a woman being in labor with twins.)  This led to the frightening discovery of a wasp hive in some boxes of stuff that we have "in storage" next to our garage.  This led to a discussion about how to get rid of said hive.  (It's hard to tell how large the hive is or to scientifically estimate how many wasps could be in said hive.  Estimates range from three inches to three feet in length and anywhere from 20-2000 wasps.)

Hubby and I have been thinking about the hive quite a bit since Saturday.  He called some sort of wasp guru and she said hive removals can cost up to $800.  Currently we have about a $20 in checking, so we're thinking that won't work.  She also said that Mexican paper wasps can somehow sting through basically metal and so you are pretty much defenseless against them.

I had a nightmare in which giant bees were chasing Girl 3 and it was scary.  I told hubby I had a nightmare about the bees and he said, "Me too."  The fear this is unleashing is kinda a movement in our family right now.

So, today we got a notice that we are having bulky pick-up very soon in our neighborhood to which we all said excitedly, "Yay!  We can finally get rid of those boxes stacked by the garage."  Followed by a depressed, "But, how are we going to kill the wasps?"

This led to a terrifying dinner discussion which was disturbing yet typical of my family.  Here are some solutions that were proposed (most of them by hubby).

1.  Dress in multiple layers of clothing with our ski gear on top and modified BMX helmets for head protection and unleash several cans of whoop ass wasp spray on the hole in the box.  (Incidentally, when this first happened and we saw the hole in the box which is the opening of the hive, the 1. Cut a hole in the box jokes began.)  Boy child said to this idea, "That might work, but what if someone sees us?"  Point well taken.  Plus, we couldn't decide who would be the main person on this.  Hubby sweats a lot and it's still like 90 here, we don't really want to put the children at risk, and I don't have good aim.

2.  Get a second opinion.  This was Girl 1's idea.  If I had to pick a rational member of the family during this conversation, I pick her.  Hubby said he'd already as good as gotten one (see #6), and that pretty much shut her down.

3.  Put a lighted torch type/molotov cocktail on the end of a large (like 14 foot) pole that we have (why do we have that pole?) and somehow maneuver the pole into the hole in an attempt to burn them out.  To this I said, "Yeah, but then we have the same problem if they swarm us and we just go back to needing our suits and wasp spray."

4.  Burn down the entire garage (this was, surprisingly (?), Boy Child's suggestion).  We all kinda liked this one because we all hate cleaning the garage and we've been wanting to start over for a while.  But, y'know, laws and stuff.  And I said I'd feel really bad if we accidentally burned the neighbor's garage down, too.

5.  Somehow maneuver a tarp over the wasps (without them knowing) and then after the tarp was sealed (with rocks?) on all sides we would stick a fogger in there.  This seemed like a reasonable suggestion to us.  But, how could we get the tarp over them without getting stung?

6.  Ask our neighbor who "knows a guy" that can do it for $50 to give us that guy's number.  And call him.  The kids and I really liked this idea.  We pointed out that it kept our family safe and if we called the guy tonight, we could still get our wasp-free boxes to the curb (and possibly clean the garage) this weekend.  Hubby hated this idea.  He said $50 was still too much and we were up for a challenge.

In the end (I think it's the end?), hubby said the only way it's getting done is if we all take a job.  We've kinda decided (I guess?) that three of us will dress in suits (I'm not sure what kind, but I might be getting our ski clothes out of the attic), the youngest will man the phone (in case she needs to call 911), Girl 1 will drive the getaway car, and Girl 2 will be in her room on her phone and after we've exterminated the wasps, come out alive, and are wiping the sweat off of our brows will bounce downstairs and say, "What'd I miss?"

102 years later.

today my dad turns 102.  he was born in 1916, and here's a google link to what i found out about that.  i have the upmost respect and love for this man.  and when i wonder about "god" i can say that what i see in him is a light that i will equate with a god.

a list is not adequate, but it's all i have.

1.  he had me when he was as old as i am now.  he'd already had nine children.  i will allow myself to imagine that only for a short time because it sometimes brings me to tears.  i am an "older parent" and our youngest is nine.  (that almost brings me to tears.)  parenting is hard and having an infant right now, for me, would be really hard.  i admire the heck out of him for parenting me like he did.

2.  there are so many great stories when you have been on this earth 102 years.  here's one:  my husband and i had recently moved close to my parents and we went over to their house.  hubby who is an expensive bike enthusiast had a really expensive bike.  because we were living in an apartment without a garage, hubby asked dad to keep his bike in dad's garage.  dad hung it up and hubby, looking at the hook dad had hung it on, asked dad, "jesse, is that hook gonna hold my bike?"  and dad said, "well, if it doesn't, your bike will fall."  classic dad.  pragmatic.  funny.

3.  dad walked almost every single day of his retired life.  for exercise.  and he made a habit of collecting cans (which he traded in for "beer money") and picking up trash while walking.  i could honestly go on and on about this.  but i think the most incredible part about this to me now is that he stopped and picked up trash.  all of it.  because he did not like litter.  i used to be mildly embarrassed by this as a teen.  but now, i cannot stand litter.  i try to pick it up in my neighborhood every morning.  i hope if dad knew this, he would be proud of me.

4.  dad had an amazing green thumb.  he could grow anything.  my mom, when she was alive, used to try to get my dad to like use mulch or water more and dad would just say, "why?  it's growing isn't it?"  i use mulch and water and everything i plant dies.  i did not inherit his green thumb.

5.  my early memories of my dad are of him coloring with me.  and sitting by his feet while he read the newspaper every night.  another memory is that he weekly (?) would bring a vending machine snack home for me and my sister.  this was a rare treat for us.  my mom had these silver measuring cups and my sister would carefully divide the candy evenly into two cups.

6.  words i would use to describe my dad are:  humble, gentle, patient, kind, simple, wise, loving, content, and generous.

7.  my dad crossed the border when he was nine.  there are so many more details about this that i have learned and forgotten.  i hope to see my last living aunt on my dad's side this summer and refresh the details of this because i would like to be able to repeat this story accurately.  some details about dad i do know are that my dad knew no english when he crossed the border, he worked in the fields picking fruit, he served in WWII, he was injured in the Battle of the Bulge, he earned a purple heart, and he earned his high school diploma when I was about 12.

there was a period of time a few years ago when i helped to provide care-taking for my dad.  he still had most of his memory and there were days i would go to his house frazzled and stressed out for one reason or another.  being with him always calmed me down.  he has a way of just making you feel peaceful and purposeful.  for me, seeing dad daily like that was a great time in my life.

when i think about the amazing legacy my dad has, it's pretty cool.  this morning on my run i thought of all my siblings and their kids.  and their kids.  i thought about all the states we live in, the professions we have, the lives we've touched.  without dad, none of that would have been possible.   i thought about all the amazing things i've learned from my dad - way too many for one blog post or even one book.   it's pretty sappy, but it made me feel pretty good at a time when i've been feeling pretty crappy.  even when he doesn't know it and he's not physically with me, he still has the ability to cheer me up.

my dad is in an amazing memory care home now where they take incredible care of him.   his memory fades in and out.  on good days he knows me.  on not so good days i'd like to think he knows i love him.

today we will celebrate him and the great life he's had and i hope that he knows how special he is.

Memory Making 2014 (in which I do math).

So, recently I have been learning that you need an advanced college degree and a year to do nothing but plan in order to successfully get a family of six to Disneyworld.

We recently made our annual trip to a smaller scale amusement park (and by smaller scale I mean:  no college degree needed and - I can imagine - slightly less gleaming restrooms?) and although I would do it again (in approximately 360 days) I think a time allowance chart for less experienced parents on par with the Disneyworld planning blogs might be helpful.

I wanted to make you guys a pie graph (blueberry?) for this post, but I got too distracted with colors and accurate percentages and I was afraid that before I knew it my oldest would be filling out college applications and hubby would be asking me (again), "What are you doing?" 

Amusement Park Trip Time Breakdowns (approximate) For a Family of Six's Ten Hour Day 

1.  20% - walking around lost because everyone is too excited and then too hot to look at the map.
2.  20% - waiting for all the rides to open because you get there at Opening Time because you think logically it's the time the rides open. 
3.  50% - explaining that your admission ticket does not cover the cost of all the carny games that actually open at Opening Time and that there isn't really a "Winner every time!"
4.  60% - waiting in line for drinks because you waited until August to go and it's 106 degrees outside with 117% humidity.
5.  60% - waiting in line for bathrooms (see #4).
6.  20% - yelling at kids not to touch anything in the bathroom.
7.  40% - touching things in the public bathrooms (this applies to kids under 5 who you've told not to touch anything see #6).
8.  60% - in line for rides because of all the people using the Flash Pass.
9.  40% - explaining to four kids that yes, the rules are different for people with more money.  They don't have to wait in line with The Other People at amusement parks. 
10.  20% - applying sunscreen.
11.  40% - examining all the nuts and bolts on the two rides you convince yourself to go on.
12.  75% - praying your kids don't get their bathing suits stuck up their rears requiring surgical removal from the ride they continue going on which they proclaim loudly and enthusiastically gives them "a major wedgie".
13.  95% - in line for a funnel cake on the way out the door (right behind the approximately 1005 people who had the same idea).
14.  2% - inhaling said funnel cake with five other people.
15.  50% - talking about where to buy a funnel cake maker and what exactly is in a funnel cake that makes it so good. 
16.  50% - exclaiming repeatedly how that funnel cake is the best use of $10 since you bought two Frappuccino's in a row.
17.  20% - proclaiming earth shattering sentences that start with, "When we come next year..."
18.  20% - proclaiming equally earth shattering sentences that start with, "Remember last year..."
19.  100% - enjoying the heck out of the last days of summer.

No danger of lost bottoms or a wedgie.  And?  When I go next year I'm wearing the same red suit.

It's all fun and games till the poop runs out of the diaper.

So, remember I said I was going to a baby shower?  Well, I did and it was fun.  We played all the standard games and despite being the somewhat successful mother of four children ("successful" in that all of my kids are still alive) I sucked at most all of them.  My lack of short and long term memory got in the way.  I got my clothes pin stolen after I'd worn it for about three minutes.  We couldn't say "baby" and I immediately referenced how I didn't win any games at my baby shower.  Duh.  I forgot not to say the word after three minutes.  (I knew I should have written it down.)

Anyway.  We played baby charades which was amusing.  Amusing because it's always fun to see what people will do under the guise of "acting it out."  The friend who is having the baby did an Oscar worthy silent interpretation of putting butt cream on a baby's a$$.  It was her two-fingered approach that made one of our team members (it might have been me) scream "DIAPER CREAM!"

But, here's the thing.  The words we had to act out (that I can remember) were:  diaper cream, stroller, baby food, diaper, diaper genie, wipes, baby backpack, robe (I had this one and made the mistake of buttoning rather than tying my robe which prevented any of my teammates from guessing the word.  They were screaming at me, "WHO BUTTONS A BABY'S ROBE???"  My question to them was, "WHOSE BABY WEARS A FREAKING ROBE???  HUGH HEFNER'S?  Cheesus.). 

Now, it's been nearly six years since I had an infant underfoot (figuratively), but I have a somewhat different memory of how infancy went down.  Here are a few words and situations that I'd like to see on the cards in a baby shower charade game.

• cleaning around the future bellybutton
• sore nipples
• ear infection
• projectile vomiting
• meconium
• poop outside the diaper
• breast pump
• being peed on while changing a diaper
• peeing while balancing a nursing baby
• brushing your teeth for the first time in a week
• mastitis
• severe sleep deprivation
• carpal tunnel from carrying the car seat
• colic
• spit-up
• spit-up stains

Let's face it, 90% of the next 18 years of this soon-to-be momma's life is going to be spent dealing with, discussing, or thinking about food, $hit, cleanliness, pain, or sleep. 

Might as well get an early start with it?

I'm not saying I'm better than you. I'm saying I'm better than all of you.

Girl 2 - "Seeing a glacier" is on my bucket list.

Girl 1 - Going to college is on my bucket list.

Boy Child - What?  "Going to college" is not a bucket list item.  It's a goal.  Learn the difference.  Yeesh.

Girl 3 - DIGGING A HOLE TO CHINA IN THE SANDBOX ON THE PLAYGROUND IS ON MY BUCKET LIST.  Mom, what's a bucket list?

Boy Child - Oh my gosh, Girl 3.  You can't even dig a hole to China.  That's impossible.  Pick something in between "Going to college" and "Digging a hole in the sandbox to CHINA" and that's what should be on your bucket list.

Boy Child - Guess what's on my bucket list.

Me - Hang gliding?

Boy Child - Close.  Parachuting from an airplane.

Girl 2 - Seeing a glacier is much more exciting.

Boy Child - Oh yeah?  Not when I'm going to be parachuting from an airplane into the center of a glacier.

The report card is in and we might not graduate.

School is out for most people this summer, but for my family school has been in since the end of May.  Puppy is in Puppy Obedience School which is a misnomer because any idiot will tell you (and there must be a lot of idiots because if I could make puppy listen for every time I hear this I wouldn't need a freakin' puppy class), "Puppy school is not for the puppies, but for the owners." 

So, our family progress report so far?  As far as I can tell:  No one has learned a damn thing and it will be a miracle if we graduate and are promoted to the next grade.

1.  Sit - B+

Puppy will sit when there is a nice juicy bacon treat in your hand or when he thinks there is, unless people he doesn't know are involved.  Then he will just try to goose them in the worst way imaginable.

2.  Walking on a leash - A - D

Puppy Obedience Class is also known as Spend All Our Money on Dog Paraphernalia Class. 

Puppy now has a total of six collars. 

He has one puppy collar that he outgrew right after the first class.  He has one regular collar that he just kind of wears like the necklace your mom gave you that you never take off.  He has one electric collar that we use when he is in the backyard so that he doesn't run away (except that we forget to put it on him a lot of the time because he has SIX collars).  He has one choke chain collar that we tried with him because he was pulling too much on our walks. 

We found out that a choke chain is actually cruel and can make a dog more aggressive.  Part of me says, "Whatever.  Our Golden used one almost everyday until he died.  He loved everyone and never needed therapy."  The other part of me says, "OK.  Let's buy one more collar." 

So, puppy also has a pinch collar.  But, damn it, we found out this one is cruel, too.

So, puppy also has a Gentle Leader collar. 

Gawd.  Stop the madness.

On the video that comes with the Gentle Leader collar the narrator says, "The most important thing to remember in training your dog is consistency."

Seriously?  We have six dog collars.  Just give us an F and let's move on.

3.  Leave It:  Puppy - meh, Girl 3 - B+.

I am not even going to be able to grade puppy for Leave It because it has been reduced to a joke.

Here's what really happened the other day:

Me:  Girl 3 stop taking puppy's toy away from him.  He doesn't like that and he's gonna bite you.

Girl 3:  No he's not.  We're playing.

Puppy growing more and more agitated.

Me:  Stop doing that.  He doesn't like it.

Girl 3:  No, I think he likes it.

Puppy mouthing Girl 3 and Girl 3 screaming and yet pulling one more time at the toy.

Me:   GIRL 3 LEAVE IT!

Girl 3:  OKAY.

Puppy finally getting and keeping his toy.

4.  Stay - C-

I don't really think puppy understands stay.  He wants his bacon treat, so he tries to guess what we want him to do.  If there is any kind of squirrel, cat, dog, human, bug, or anything moving on the other side of Stay he does not stay.

5.  Take It - A+

Puppy knows Take It.  He takes "it" all the time.  Bacon treats, Little Pony brushes, dropped pencils, food scraps, dirty socks, brand new shoes, etc. , etc.

6.  Shake - D

Again, puppy really has a taste for bacon treats.  So, today he let me "shake" his paw for about a half an hour.  But, then I tried to get him to do it just now and he acted like I was ca-razy.

7.  Down - A-

Puppy loves Down.  He is one lazy dog with no strength in his lower back and butt muscles.  And our wood floors do not help.  He will Sit and immediately lay down because - I don't know - he's lazy?  It's actually pretty hilarious and I wish I could do what he does.  Just sit anywhere and then lay down.  I want to do that in the grocery store.  A lot.

So, I'm not a teacher anymore but I'd say our average is about what?  A solid C?  With one missing grade and one grade that is just wacky inconsistent? 

I'm really hoping Puppy (and by Puppy I mean Our Family) is like one of those people I'm always hearing about that dropped out of high school because it wasn't challenging enough and now they're crazy famous and rich.

Fame and fortune here we come!  (And we'll try not to goose all the neighbors trying to get there.)

Why dinner with my family can be like the eye of a hurricane only without the rain.

I vowed to be a better blogger and just as soon as I did, I broke my vows.  Good thing I've done a teensy bit better with my marriage vows.

Here's the thing - I can't think of anything to write.  I have an enormous writer's block on my head.  And, I've been flirting with a migraine for two days.

I *might* have the beginnings of a migraine because spring break for all four of my kids is next week and they all have had spring fever since the middle of February (what???).  They've taken to saying school is almost over.  Frankly, I don't know what that means.

I think it means that their brains are already on vacation and when this happens monkey brain takes over.  And, monkey brain (as you should know if you've ever been to the zoo) causes the body to not  behave at all.

I have found these last few days that it takes tremendous effort to want to be in the same room with all the kids at once.  It's often felt like I think those reporters feel when they are broadcasting from the eye of the hurricane.  I imagine they feel like it's difficult to talk or think, it's dangerous, and at any moment everything might blow.

Sample of our "dinner conversation" (if you can call it that).  I suggested a family rule that we are all going to strive to keep:  No interrupting.  Why did I do that?  Because I am a glutton for punishment.  (I was interrupted about six times while making the rule.)

Girl 2:  I did the P.E. challenge thing today and I did 24 sit-ups.

Me:  Wow.  24?  That's...

Girl 1:  Not to be mean (which is what she now says instead of no offense because no offense "is in fact offensive") but, I doubt very much that you can do 24 sit-ups.

Me:  That's great!  Girl 1, stop being snotty.

Girl 2:  I CAN TO DO 24 SIT-UPS.

Girl 3:  I can do 24 sit-ups, too.

Girl 1 to Girl 3:  Ha!  Not to be mean, but I doubt you even know what a sit-up is.  Because you're four! 

Girl 3:  NOT TO BE MEAN, BUT I DO KNOW WHAT A SIT-UP IS AND I CAN DO 24 SIT-UPS!  In fact, I think I can do a million.

Girl 1:  Hahahahaha!  Not to be mean, but I know for fact that you can't even count to a million because you can't even count to TWELVE!

Girl 3 (in a high-pitched screamy voice):  YOU ARE A MEANIE PETE AND I DON'T LIKE YOU AND I AM NOT GOING TO BE YOUR FRIEND ANYMORE AFTER DINNER WHEN I AM DOING PUSH UPS!!!

Does this make you want to be with these people?  And furthermore, does this make any sense?

So, that's why I have a big writer's block that is painful and makes my head hurt.  And, also it might be dangerous and at any moment knock over this tiny bridge on which I am standing.

But, I did want to bring you this because it makes me laugh so hard every time I watch and I've already watched it about a million times because I have really needed a laugh (and not to be mean, but I can count to a million) .  Cheers!

But can you juggle fire on torches while standing on your head?

Remember when Girl 1 didn't make the Student Council and then remember when she found out that we're not Jewish and boobs eventually stop growing?  Well, today was another one of Life's Disappointments.

A few weeks ago Girl 1 became curious about when her brother tried out for their school's Talent Show.  I thought this was unusual because Girl 1 seldom acknowledges the existence of her brother unless it's to punch him in the face after he's tortured her.  She was suddenly asking all kinds of questions such as:  What did you play on the piano again?  Did you make it?  Was it hard?  Were there judges?  To which he answered (respectively):  I don't know.  Yes.  I don't know.  I don't know.

It became crystal clear why she was so curious when I found a flyer in her backpack announcing the try-outs for the school Talent Show. 

Now, I don't want to sound cynical (but, I am), but my kids are not America's Got Talent worthy.  We don't dance, we don't sing, we don't breathe fire, we don't juggle, we can't put our legs behind our heads while eating an apple (at least I don't think we can), and we generally don't have any kind of talent that could be performed on a stage (unless people would want to see persistent and obnoxious teasing followed by hair-pulling, biting, and excessive punching). 

Boy Child performed two piano pieces during what I think might have been the school's first talent show a few years ago when there were virtually no Talent Show Rules.  He did really well and although I was like a peacock beaming with pride, my pride was dulled somewhat by the horror of having to listen to far too many girls eek out the words (off-key) to some vomit-y Justin Beiber and Taylor Swift songs. 

So, because of my vast past experience, I think I held the flyer up and casually announced, "Looks like it's Talent Show time, kids.  Any takers?" fully expecting that no one would want to do it, least of all Girl 1.  As often happens in my life, my children defied me and Girl 1 promptly and enthusiastically proclaimed, "Yes.  I am trying out.  I am doing it."

"What are you going to do?" I said (shocked, but quickly recovering).

"Piano.  I am going to play two piano pieces."

Okay.  So, I don't like to brag about my kids (in fact, when moms do that I really want their kids to immediately pick their noses and eat it), but my kids can indeed play piano.  We have taken years of painstaking lessons, practiced till mom's ears were going to burst, and now we can play us some piano.  We have won awards, been invited to Important Piano Shows (albeit not the dueling kind), traveled out of town, and other stuff that signifies (if only to me) that we are Piano Players.  (And by "we" I mean "them.")  (By the way, this doesn't count as bragging and my kids are probably picking their noses and eating it right as I type this.) 

So, I calmly said, "Okay."

I filled out the necessary paperwork and Girl 1 was assigned Thursday for her try-out period. 

It seemed that simple.  But, as you well know, nothing is ever that simple.

Tuesday before her try-out an ominous note came home that said (and I might be paraphrasing), "The talent show is going to happen during a PTA meeting (which are poorly attended, unless we have kids performing in which case there is no parking and standing room only) and since humans can only watch kids lip-sync to Taylor Swift before vomiting for two hours, we have to somehow limit the number of performers.  Due to the 6000 kids that want to be in the talent show (and the fact that we know all these kids can't have genuine talent), we are going to have a Process of Elimination." 

Now, due to the fact that sometimes Girl 1 doesn't give me notes out of her backpack (oh, the horror), I am not really clear on when all these notes came home.  So, as usual, this may or may not be fully accurate.  But, it's my blog not an FBI interrogation, so I really don't have to care about accurate facts and timelines. 

The important thing is - here's how it mostly went down after that:

All week she practiced her pieces diligently (well, kind-of).

By Thursday she had memorized the music and could play them perfectly and with no mistakes.

She left for school Thursday a happy, well-adjusted child with high self-esteem (well, as well-adjusted as you can be and still live in this family). 

Her father and I were, on the other hand, terrified.  I had explained to her that she might not make it to the finals ("What is this America's Got Talent???" were her words when I first explained the Process.  Me:  "Well, no I really don't think anyone is going to win a million dollars and go to Vegas."  Her:  "Then why do they need a process???  It's just about talent, right?"  Me:  "Well, presumably.").  But, I still wasn't quite sure she realized there was the possibility she might not make it.  This *could have been* evidenced by her giddily skipping out the door Thursday saying (slightly condescendingly), "I can play my pieces, mom.  I am prepared.  I am going to be in the Talent Show."

*Sigh.*

I picked her up Thursday and she was beaming.  I said, "How'd it go?" 

"Great.  I didn't make any mistakes.  I played really great."

"Perfect.  I am so happy."

"They are going to tell everyone tomorrow if they made it and can be in the talent show.  But don't worry!"

*Huge sigh.*

Hubby and I reminded her again that it was a process and since 6000 kids tried out and only 20 kids could make it - some of the kids were not going to make it.  Simple math......Nothing to do with talent.

Friday I picked up the kids.  She came slinking to the car, threw herself into her seat, sighed heavily, and eeked out, "I didn't make it, mom.  I'm not going to be in the Talent Show.  Only two kids in my class made it.  Only two kids in my class have talent."

There wasn't as much drama as I expected.  She was kind of resigned to the fact that doing back-flips might be more stage-worthy than playing two piano pieces with perfect precision and timing.  Hubby and I tried our best to explain why a Talent Show sometimes has very little to do with one child's actual talent.  (That was kinda similar to explaining why there is lots of food in Africa but all the people are starving.)

I can't decide whether I am happy she's weathered another of Life's Disappointments and come out on the other side, or sad because she's lost a lot little of her spunk and innocence.  She seems to have fully recovered by today. 

I am another story.  I *might* have a little anger and resentment built up inside me.  I *might* be very jealous and bitter a little jealous of the singing, dancing, juggling kids who can contort and do back-flips.  Some of the wind *might* have gone out of my sails.  Today sad *might* be winning.

Either way, we are totally spending all summer working on juggling.  And we might just start with fire.  Damn it.

Countdown: Negative One. The After.

If you are reading this, you made it!  You survived Christmas 2011.  Congratulations.  As promised (due to the comments from three of my favorite faithful readers) I am going to bring you The After and a short list (because even though a picture is worth a 1000 words, sometimes 1000 words is just not enough).  It was an amazing Christmas (partly due to the amount of food I consumed and partly due to children who behave when surrounded by every toy they could possibly imagine).  So, here is the photo recap.

The wrapping carnage.



Some of the kids.  Now, amazingly, well behaved.




The brussel sprouts.  Yes, I said, "brussel sprouts" (see the note on that later because we are that hip).



The New Green Bean casserole.  See note on that later.



The tamales.  These are home made.  Yes, I ate one for you.  And, yes, it was yummo.




The ham.  Yes, my love for ham is a little obscene.




The children.  Again, oddly well-behaved.




One of the Presents of the Day.  An autographed copy of Eva Longoria's cook book (if you look closely you will see that she wrote, "To Monica - One of the best cooks I know and the inspiration for this book!" - or at least that's what it looks like she wrote).



Apparently my brother knows me better than I thought.  (As evidenced by this T-shirt he gave me.)




Ah.  Love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control are born into the hearts of mankind.  Let's see how long before they are evicted.

Now, for the list:

1.  I heard on NPR a while back that brussel sprouts are the new black.  And thanks to my nephew our family was hip this Christmas (the brussel sprouts were good, too).
2.  Again, my nephew and niece saved the day by bringing some tamales they made......with their hands.  What a relief to eat home made tamales on Christmas.  Thank you, Niece and Nephew.  You have guaranteed your lifetime invitation to our home for Christmas.
3.  Although my family (and by "my family" I mean "hubby") tends to be staunch traditionalists when it comes to holiday meals, I tried two new recipes.  Both were DELISH and you can find them here:

• Hubby and my brother could possibly be the only people on earth that love green bean casserole.  I kinda think it's food porn.  BUT, this scrumptious recipe by Paula Deen was recommended by a friend (thank you, friend).  It is Paula Deen, so it consists mostly of cheese and butter (and a few green beans thrown in for good measure).  Hubby's only complaint (hubby is a freak) was that he prefers canned green beans.  Hello?  Food 911?  HUBBY NEEDS AN INTERVENTION STAT.
• The other recipe was from another friend, but I found one to pass on to you that is just as yummy and the one I actually used (since I didn't want to risk my life by making another trip to the grocery store).  It is a Christmas morning recipe that can bake while you are opening presents.  The key there is to remember to put it into the oven at the crack a$$ of dawn, pre-coffee.  Note to self:  Next year do not rely on memory.  Make an actual note.

5.  As you might know, my list to Santa was kind of taken care of by me.  So, I was not expecting any gifts.  What I got were some AWESOME gifts.  My sister really took the cake (and this is NOT to say that I did not LOVE all the other gifts from my super great hubby, my sweet, sweet kids, my friends, and other family members) this year.  But, sissy gave me the above signed cookbook.  It's not that I cook, like to cook, aspire to be a great cook - or any of that.  I just have this thing about food, cookbooks, the Food Network, great restaurants, and anywhere I can see and enjoy great food.  So, really it was an AWE-SOME gift.  The other crazy thing she got me is a Christmas apron.  I know - totally dorky, right?  But, here's the crazy thing - I was in Hobby Lobby the other day and I thought, "I need a Christmas apron."  Kind of like when you see a great car and you're like, "I need a Jag."  So, now I have one.  Yay, me!  Oh, and YAY, sissy!  You totally earned your shirt that says, "My sister has the best sister ever."

So, that's my wrap-up.  I hope yours was grand, too.  It may be 2012 before I write again.  Depends on how well I can recover from the weight gain.  Peace!

Countdown: ONE. A New Tradition....Maybe.

So, if you have been living under a rock for the past week (or in Denial) - countdown is ONE.  IT IS THE DAY OF CHRISTMAS EVE, folks.  Since most of you might be doing any combination of the following:  1.  Fighting the crowds and chaos and doing last minute shopping, 2.  Working out in an effort to lose the 10 pounds you have gained since Halloween, 3.  Screaming at your kids Gently having to remind your kids every three seconds that Santa is still watching and could still move their names to the Naughty List, 4.  Frantically making homemade gifts to pass out tonight at your Christmas parties, 5.  Watching the clock to see when it is noon and you can break open the "merriment,"  6.  Or, just enjoying the season, I am not going to bring you a witty post and expect you to read it with interest and enthusiasm (you're welcome). 

Instead, I thought I'd start a new tradition on my blog.  (If it works and people like it - as evidenced by thousands of comments on what a creative person I am and how you love my blog and my new traditions - it will be a tradition.  If not, then consider this a "filler" and know that my next post will be way better.)  I thought on Christmas Eve I would show you a few "before" photos.  And then after Christmas I thought I'd bring you some "after" photos and we'll compare the two.

The tree.  And the presents.  Wrapped to the best ability - which is low.

The ham.  Waiting to be devoured.  That sounds dirty, and the way I love ham - it kinda is.

The children.  Ignoring me when I tell them, "SANTA IS WATCHING, $#%#-%$!!!!!"

The children.  Still ignoring me.

The tamales.  Don't judge.  They are NOT homemade.

The merriment.  For me.  Yes, I am cheap, but not easy.  ;o)

The Boy.  Trying to figure out if you can snort candy.

The cookies.  Decidedly it was easier to decorate nicely when I paid $25.00 and was provided all the proper tools.

Mary and Joseph anxiously awaiting the birth of Jesus so that the anger and bitterness of a nine month pregnancy will subside.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Thank you, public education for keeping me sober. This week. So far.

So, it's no secret how I feel about Red Ribbon Week.  Although, I must say it kinda seems like my kids' elementary school decision-makers read my blog post last year *gasp*.  I say this, because this year Red Ribbon Week Schedule has actually been...manageable.  Since the majority of the people in the world are not reading my blog, I suspect what actually happened was that they had someone serving on the Very Important Committee That Makes Red Ribbon Week Decisions who actually has a child.  In public school.  Participating in Red Ribbon Week.  *GASP*  The first step in making it a successful year (in keeping parents sober) was sending the Red Ribbon Week Schedule home a WEEK EARLY.  So great.  We had one full week to prepare and buy crap we don't need this year.  Thank you, public education!  I will not mention how a few people thought that because the note went home a week early, Red Ribbon Week was October 17-21.  Therefore their kids showed up at school all peace-ed out for no good reason.  Nor, will I gloat by saying: -I was not one of those people!

Here's the 2011 Red Ribbon Week Run-Down (and although I am delighted at not wanting to drink heavily after reading it, I must admit I am a tad disappointed in the lack of fanfare, chaos, and household fighting):

Monday - Say Peace Out To Drugs.  Wear your tie-dye shirts and/or peace symbols.  Since both of my girls love peace symbols and since the nine year old boy is content this year with, "Just saying no," I really have no comment on this.  But, I would be remiss if I did not repeat what I said last year.  If you remember the 70's - you were not there.  So, I remain conflicted about invoking the "Peace" symbol as a symbol of No Drugs.  It seems a bit like a mixed message.  Girl 1 and 2 left the house looking cute as bugs and as far as I know they remained drug free all day. 

Tuesday - Don't Let Drugs Give You The Blues.  Wear your blue jeans.  Fabulous!  I almost thought it was a joke when I read it - it was so easy.  It seemed a little surreal.  Like I had been serving on the committee and I had said, "Why not just something simple that everyone already has.  *Insert long pause.*  Like BLUE JEANS?!"  No blue hair?  No obscure outfit from the 40's?  No "paint your face two different colors"???  This one seems to have been made for Slacker Moms like me.  After all, what sane kid living in America doesn't have a pair of jeans???  I'll tell you what kid.  Girl 2.  She has not one pair of jeans.  She hates jeans.  She hasn't worn jeans since she was two and I forced her into them.  Hubby says she has "sensory issues."  I say she likes to drive her mom crazy when shopping for clothes.  I digress, and either way - SHE DOESN'T HAVE JEANS.  So, there was ONE unhappy camper in my house yesterday morning.  BUT, it's okay - because this did not make me want to drink a beer.  Just a teensy bit.  Girl 1 and Boy Child left with jeans on and remained drug free all day (as far as I know).  I think Girl 2, despite not wearing jeans, remained drug-free too.

Wednesday - (Pay attention because here's where it gets tricky.) My Future Shines Bright Drug-Free.  Wear your shades to school.  So, typically people with sensory issues don't like stuff on their faces.  But, Girl 2 agreed to wear some of my old sunglasses and Girl 1 did, too (What are the odds that I kept two pairs of old sunglasses???  It's creepy.).  Boy Child agreed to wear some of his dad's sunglasses.  Sa-weet.  Our first day participating in drug-free week as a family.  I was positively giddy and wanted a cocktail to celebrate!  Then:  As soon as I got back from delivering them all to the bus stop - I found all three pairs of glasses sitting on the table.  I pray they can resist the temptations today without their eye wear.

Thursday - Life is a journey, Travel Drug Free.  Wear a shirt from another city, state or country.  Now, my comment on this one is just going to be a quick re-cap of the conversation I had with Girl 1 two weeks ago when the Red Ribbon Schedule first came home.

Girl 1 - (Diligently reading me the entire Red Ribbon Week Schedule and inserting her own cute little eight-year-old comments.)  Thursday Life is a journey.  Travel Drug Free.  Wear a shirt from another city, state or country.  Ha-ha.  That's funny, mom 'cuz y'know what I thought at first?
Me - No, what?
Girl 1 - That it was okay to do drugs in another place like another country or city or state.  But, just not in your own home or place where you live.  Hahahahahahahaha.  THAT would be ridiculous, huh?
Me:  Yes.  That would be ridiculous.

Enough said.

Friday - Insert Elementary School Name and Mascot are PROUD to be Drug-free.  Wear your spirit shirts.  I love this one.  We all have spirit shirts and we all like to wear them.  I will NOT even drink a celebratory beer for this one..............well, maybe............................but just one.

It's Wednesday and I am proud to say we are all drug-free so far.  No one has a shirt from another city, state, country, or planet (we have four kids and are too poor to travel), so the jury is still out on whether we will remain drug-free for the week.  But, it seems Red Ribbon Week just keeps getting better and better.  Frankly, I am excited for what 2012 has to offer me in terms of tricks to stay drug-free.  Good luck staying drug-free, friends and HAPPY RED RIBBON WEEK!

Sometimes it's just not funny.

These past few weeks of my life have been decidedly "not funny."  So, bear with me as I veer away from my normally caustically sarcastic self and give you just a Plain Post.  If you are against Plain Posts, I will not be offended.  I promise when I am feeling better I will tell you the other more humorous stories milling about in my head.  What the heck has happened to Axel Rose?  My Life in Cleaning Episodes, and some practical parenting tips.   Meanwhile - I am focusing on what makes me in love rather than what makes me want to poke out my eyes out with sharp sticks.  So, here is my melancholy list for today.

What I Love...
1.  When my kids crack me up in a big way and it is totally unexpected and ironic.  Example:  Last night all of my four were having meltdowns of various size and scope AT THE SAME TIME.  Incomprehensibly, I found this hilarious and literally could not stop laughing.  My kids were hurt and disappointed in my lack of compassion (Girl 1's exact words) *bad mommy*.  This only made me laugh harder.
2.  The delightful things.  Girl 1 wrote a story a few nights ago.  She often does this, so I've read many "The Amazing Rabbit," "The Tales of Sammy Squirrel," "The Girl Who Loved Stuffed Animals," ad naseum (kind of because it is darn cute).  The thing that made this one stand out was this:  "About the Author."  And here's what she wrote, "The author lives in San Antonio, Texas.  She is married and has two children.  Writing has always been her passion."  I am not posting the actual text  because I promised (in a fit of weakness) to not post it on Facebook, my blog, or "anywhere else on your computer."  But, isn't that delightful?  Try to read that without smiling.
3.  Enduring love.  Did anyone say love was easy?  If they did, sorry.  I missed it.  It just sounds like something my mom would have said to me, "Y'know, honey, love is not easy.  But enduring love is the best thing.  Ever."
4.  When someone stands up for what is right even though that is sometimes really difficult to do.
5.  That I will catch my mom in my sisters.  I have more sisters than the Jehovah's and I love them all.  I had the chance to see two of them in the same week.  And in the short time we were together I saw glimpses of my mom.  That brings me a lot of comfort and joy.
6.  Halloween.  Best.  Night.  Ever.  (Even though it usually starts with serious family dysfunction and ends with one child in a total and complete sugar high melt-down.  To the ground.)
7.  Cooking ahead of time.  Now, this is a bit Betty Crocker/Martha Stewartish for me but I must admit it has saved me these past few weeks when cooking has really not been my focus.
8.  Reading blogs that make me laugh.  Out loud.  I don't laugh easily and recently I have stumbled upon a blog that really has made me laugh.  Since I've shared many of my favs with you, I will share this one as well.  Thanks bloggers!
9.  Good friends who stay through thick and thin.
10.  and, because I love round numbers.  I really love when someone gives me something to think about.  Here is what I have been thinking about for a few weeks:  What are you doing today that years from now you will look back on and be happy about?  What are you doing today that years from now you will look back on and regret?

That's all I got.  Sorry if it was too straight-laced for you - I will be back to "normal" soon (after menopause is over - JOKING...kind of).  Peace!

I like you, Joe Corbi. But just as a friend.

This one's going to be short and sweet.  You all know about the Joe Corbi "affair."  I'm back to tell you - we remain friends.  I do, however, have three suggestions for Joe that I think will increase his profits (not really, but I bet people would just like him more).  I have titled my list

My Suggestions to Joe Corbi 

1.  Show all of your items in your glossy next to a Coke can (or a beer can since most moms feel the urge to drink a cold one when it comes to fund raising).  Now, that is not really my idea but a good friends' idea.  Sadly, she does not have a blog, so I will just have to steal her idea for my blog.  Thank you, friend!  Because I really care about you, Joe, I am going to tell you why this would be so helpful.  When I was picking up my items I was frantically searching for what I had ordered (the rest of the people be damned) and I couldn't see my Cheesecake Sampler (which I had considered sampling on the way home).  Turns out it was right in front of my eyes.  Problem was I was looking for a huge box like the one in the glossy.  The box I had was teeny tiny.  I guess that's why you call it a Sampler?  Needless to say, it wasn't sampled on the way home - it was eaten.

2.  Consider a little higher quality for your student fund raising rewards.  Now, I must say I am delighted beyond belief to now have seen a &*%$ Cell Phone Radio with Light.  But, I am positively dreading the day (later this weekend or tonight) when it breaks.  It is CHEAP like a chicken clucking, Joe.  The kind of sad part about that is that I think Boy Child had to sell like 1,546 items to get it.  Just seems to me like you could give back a little. 

3.  Do not make substitutions.  Now, if you read my open letter to you, Joe I hope you got a feel for how hard it is to sell this stuff to good hard working Americans.  And, I also hope you understand that I have to look these people in the eyes every morning when we are leaving for our days.  So, when they order the Ham and Cheese Calzones and actually get the Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches this is a Big Deal.  It just doesn't sit right with any of us.  Please, Joe.  Do whatever you have to do - hire more help in the kitchen (Lord knows the cheesecake sampler maker peeps have a little free time).  Help me keep the few neighbors I have that still will speak to me.

That's it.  I promised short and sweet and I have delivered.  My time with Joe has come to an end, but I like to think we are still friends.  It's been a good ride overall and I look forward to our meeting sometime next year (no, I don't really but that sounded good on my blog).

Have a great weekend, friends.  Know that I will be eating my cinnamon rolls and listening (kind of) to crying about the stupid cell phone thingie breaking and the 18" pencil not really writing and WHY CAN'T WE GET IN A BOX WITH MONEY FLYING AROUND???  Peace.

A turtle. You know? The cute and cuddly kind.

So, I am not a pet lover.  If this is an unfavorable trait, I blame my mother.  She was not a pet lover and I think I inherited this distaste from her.  In my lifetime, I have loved two pets and they are now dead.  One was an incredibly dumb/smart golden retriever named, Maverick who we had nearly from birth and the other was a demon possessed cat named Quentin who came to us because we needed to learn a lesson.  This post is not about them, but just for the sake of background...

Maverick was a golden retriever.  What else can I say?  They beg you to love them and really you are rendered defenseless and often find yourself doing ridiculous things like crying on their "shoulder," feeding them scraps of bacon from your breakfast plate, popping popcorn just for the "two of you," and laughing saying it's "cute" when they eat the just barbecued chicken you have been waiting for hours to eat.

Quentin.  What can I say?  He was an awful, evil, hateful, fat cat that I loved from the night he spent outside our bedroom window meowing louder than any cat should ever be capable of doing begging us to feed him and give him a home.  He bit neighbors, my mother-in-law, small children, and anyone else who was irritating him or just breathing.  He often bit me.  When I was feeding him.

Another side note (because I am in a rambling kind of mood today):  I hate it when people discover that I like some dogs better than some cats and say in that gushing and condescending way some pet lovers have, "Oh, so you're a dog lover?"  I desperately want to say, "No.  I am a pet hater.  I do not discriminate."  But, in this world that often seems worse than admitting to spanking your kids in anger.  NOT saying I have done that.

September 2011 - All of my kids (including that pestery three year old) want a pet.  Damn them.  My excuses are wearing thin and their whinyness about it is wearing me out.  There is something to be said about persistence (ask hubby).  So....get ready for the Bonus Parenting Tip for this post......when your kids ask for a dog - Say "no," but instead promise a TURTLE.

Yeah.  Now, I am second guessing myself.  What the heck?  A turtle?  I sort of promised Girl 1(and maybe the other three) a turtle for Christmas.  And, shhhhh, because I haven't told hubby.  Now, I am realizing this was totally wrong, but I am afraid we are too deep into the insanity to backtrack easily.  Here is a recap of how the backsliding went:

Some random child of mine:  Can we have a dog?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a cat?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a gerbil?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have a mink?
Me:  Hell to the no.
SRCM:  WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
Me:  (Insert any answer you want here.)  Because they require responsibility.  Because they require money.  Because they poop.  Because they stink.  Because they pee.  Because we go on vacation and can hardly afford that.  Because mommy hates pets.  Because we might develop allergies.
SRCM:  Can we have any pet with fur?
Me:  No.
SRCM:  Can we have fish?
(This is another blog post.  I had fish as a child and they all committed suicide.)
Me:  Um, no.
SRCM:  How about a turtle?
Me:  Hmm.

The kids heard the weakness and pounced.

So, now Santa MIGHT be bringing a turtle.  I don't want to totally alienate you dear readers, so I will not expound on how much I hate Santa right now.  Just use your imagination.

SRCM:  So, what kind of turtle?  A tortoise?  Is that legal?  Will we be kicked out of our neighborhood?
Me:  NO, NOT A TORTOISE.  WHAT ARE YOU KIDS?  NUTS???  TORTOISES AREN'T EVEN REAL.  THEY ONLY LIVE AT ZOOS.
SRCM:  So, what kind of turtle, mom????
Me:  YOU KNOW.  A CUTE CUDDLY TURTLE.

Pray for me.  It's getting deep in here.

You didn't tell me there would be snacks.

So, this post falls into Life's Disappointments.  You know Those People (or you might actually be Those People) who never really put effort into things and it seems they just have good luck?  Fortune just comes their way?  Well, last week brought a family lesson on Those People.  Here's how it went down.

About three weeks ago Girl #1 became giddy about the prospect of being in an organization called Student Council.  I may have predated Student Council as it pertains to elementary school but, Girl #1 quickly brought me up to speed by telling me: 
1.  Being in Student Council is as important as picking the university you go to, and getting married.
2.  The Student Council makes critical decisions in the school - such as what to sell in the PTA Christmas Crap Store
2.  and being an effective Student Council representative requires organization (a skill Girl #1 assured me she has even though her room, closet, and Yukon seat show no signs of it).

She explained to me how in third grade there are two representatives - a boy and a girl.  From ALL OF THIRD GRADE JUST TWO STUDENTS ARE PICKED.  By the teachers.  She told me she could name about 10 people from just her class who were applying.  She also explained that in fourth and fifth grade there are more representatives and sometimes they are just picked by the teacher and don't have to apply.  I found it all rather confusing and considered calling her teacher and attempting to bribe her into picking Girl 1. 

But like any good mother would, I decided against bribery.  And instead, I encouraged Girl #1 to write an application letter for Student Council.  This was done with much fanfare.  She wrote, rewrote, proofed, wrote again, and then repeated all of those about 27 times.  It was exhausting and all I did was encourage and mutter, "Mm-hmm."  We had many (and by "many" I mean over 100) discussions that went something like this:

Girl:  Mom, do you think they'll pick me?
Me:  Well, honey, I don't know.  You are doing your best and that is all we can do.  I certainly think you are the most qualified person for the job and your application is going to be outstanding.
Girl:  Yeah, but do you think they'll PICK me?
Me:  Again, baby, there is really no way to know for sure.
Girl:  Well, I just want to be in Student Council so bad.  I just really, really, really, really hope they pick me.
Me:  I know, baby.  I know. 


Now, after a few days of this kind of talk it became apparent to me that we would have a family World War III if Girl #1 was not picked.  And, because we are lucky, part of me knew that that was precisely what would happen.  I just never imagined it would happen quite like it did. 

Two Fridays ago I picked everyone up from school like I always do.  About 10 minutes into our ride home Boy calmly with not too much excitement said, "Hey, mom.  I almost forgot to tell you.  I am in student council." 

Before I could say, "WHAT???  YOU DIDN'T EVEN APPLY OR WANT TO BE IN STUDENT COUNCIL," there was a loud shriek/howl from Girl #1 and I think she said, "WHAT DO YOU MEAN???  YOU CAN'T BE IN STUDENT COUNCIL.  YOU DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO BE IN STUDENT COUNCIL.  DID YOU????  DID YOU????  OH MY GOSH.  DID YOU WANT TO BE IN STUDENT COUNCIL AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME???  I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO BE IN STUDENT COUNCIL FOR LIKE A WEEK NOW.  YOU STOLE THIS FROM ME.  YOU THIEF.  YES.  YOU ARE A THIEF.  YOU STOLE THIS.  THE SCHOOL IS NEVER GOING TO PICK ME NOW BECAUSE I AM YOUR SISTER.  I AM NOT FORGIVING YOU." 

Fast forward to Girl #1 not being picked.  And numerous talks about:  how she did her best, how sometimes we do our best and things still don't work out, how we can still be happy for the winners, how brother did not intentionally do this to hurt her, how teachers don't know everything that goes on in every one's homes (thank you, Jesus), how sometimes people get things that they don't ask for or even particularly want that we DO want, how we are called to forgive those who hurt us, how this will not be the last disappointment she will ever have, how some people just sometimes "get stuff" or "get A's" without even studying, etc., etc. 

If it sounds simultaneously melodramatic and traumatic, it was.  Times about 200.  If you are thinking it must have taken her a while to "get over it," you are astute.  It did.  It took a few days, but I was sure she was over it.  She had told me and hubby that she understood everything we had talked about, that she was proud of her efforts, and that she had indeed done her best.

Fast forward again to last Wednesday when I picked up the two girls.  Brother stayed for the first Student Council meeting of the year.  Girl 1 got in the Yukon and silently started sobbing.

Me:  What's wrong?
Girl 1:  It's Student Council meeting day.
Me:  I know, baby.  But, remember we talked about that?  Remember everything we talked about?
Girl 1:  I know all that, mom.  But you didn't tell me they would have snacks at their meetings!!!  They are having M&M's and Goldfish and you know those are my favorites.

Sometimes it is not the big stuff, it's the small stuff.  Here's to not sweating the small stuff and I hope you have a fabulous week.  :o) 

How Feeding a Family Prevents Me From Feeding My Family

Preface:  #1:  Baby was in the ER Friday night.  My intention was to blog it today, but instead I am saving that for my book - chapter to be titled Make Sure Your Kids' Panties Are Right Side Out Before Said Kid Ends Up in the ER.  #2:  I don't think I am fully recovered from baby going to the ER and my hands are already shaking from coffee intake in an attempt to fully recover.  SO, you are stuck with the following blog post on cooking (collective - blech).  When my book comes out you can thank me for the ER tips.  And lest you think I am a heartless mother who has no regard for her baby who was in the ER and only thinks of herself (who me?).  Baby is fine.  I think she recovered miraculously when she heard the words "popsicle and stickers if you can do this," and she was actually spotted high-fiving all the ER staff on her way out.

Today's Post

One of my resolutions for 2011 was to cook more things from scratch and not feed my family so much processed food.  I am a professed Non-Cook, so for me this was HUGE.  When I wrote the resolution I did not fully realize just how much actual work, time in the kitchen, and countless hours of research this would entail.

When it comes to cooking I have a few people I look to for inspiration who are clearly way above my skill level.  My good friend over at cyberbones is a crazy good cook.  She makes things like MARSHMALLOWS, and lots of ethnic foods that I have never heard of but am dying to taste.  She blogs about it later and I dream about doing the same.  Cyberbones effortlessly cooks circles around me. 

I also occasionally find myself related to outstanding cooks.  My beautiful niece over at http://skinny-fatkids.blogspot.com/ is just one.  Not only is she drop-dead gorgeous she manages to cook all this amazing food that is actually HEALTHY.  Oh, and did I mention - she's in law school.  Yeah, I know.  She blogs about her food AND photographs it WHILE cooking it.  Check these two blogs and you will say, "Standards too high." 

And, lastly I will just mention my hubby who is The Cook In The Family.  He is a born fabulous cook.  Thank God or we would starve.  He has tried to teach me to:  Taste my food while cooking.  Test recipes on our family, not strangers.  Memorize recipes that I make frequently.  Not even use a recipe - to just experiment with food I like.  Etc., etc...............I could be unteachable.

So that brings me to yesterday.  I had decided to try my hand at calzones in 805 easy steps.  I whittled the steps down and in preparation for yesterday this is what I had done.

1.  I researched calzones back to Italy itself by way of allrecipes.com, the Food Network, and epicurious.com.  Finding a recipe for actual made from scratch calzones is a little difficult since most of the recipes called for "Refrigerated Pizza Dough."  I finally settled on homemade pizza dough and a seemingly yummy recipe for a veggie filled calzone.
2.  Using the recipes, I made a grocery list of what I needed to buy to make Spinach and Cheese Calzones.  Thank you Bobby Flay and Rachel Ray.  When I went to print the recipes, the printer was out of ink.  This resulted in a quick fit from hubby (because the printer has been flashing "almost out of ink - GO BUY INK" for about six months now and I have yet to go to the ink store - across town and with two toddlers - to buy ink), quick fit from the boy-child (who was trying to print his invoices which were overdue - and yes our 9 year old has a paying job - don't judge), quick fit from Girl 2 because I couldn't print out her spelling words, AND (most important to this post) I had to hurriedly WRITE the recipes while three people were throwing fits.  Later this will be critically important.
3.  I thought I had a basic knowledge of how yeast actually works.

So, I set out to make the calzones at 1:30 p.m. in plenty of time for a 5:00 p.m. dinner. 

"What could this possibly go wrong?  Didn't you have a recipe?" you ask?

*Tired pause,* coming from months of experience answering this question when hubby asks it after I angrily shout at him, "SOMETHING HAS GONE WRONG.  WE ARE EATING OUT." 

Here's a run-down of what went wrong.

1.  Something went wrong with the yeast.  I don't exactly know what.  I ended up with not "double the amount," but more like (and this is exactly what the boy-child said) "possibly one quarter more than the original amount."
2.  Because I was forced to hand write everything since we had no ink - I ended up totally leaving out several critical ingredients to the recipe.  One of them being the main ingredient - ricotta cheese.
3.  I made a split second change in the recipe (which never turns out good when I do it) in order to accommodate having no ricotta cheese.
4.  When I opened one of the pizza sauce jars that was in the refrigerator (leading me to believe we had two half-used jars that would presumably equal one full jar) it was moldy.
5.  I thought I had more frozen spinach in the deep freeze.  When I actually went out to the deep freeze - we didn't.

At 5:45 dinner was served.  We had one HUGE calzone (about the size of half a pizza).  In it was:  sauteed artichoke, garlic, red, orange and yellow bell peppers, mozzarella cheese and a quarter bottle of pizza sauce.  We also had three smaller calzones with the rest of the pizza sauce, a teeny amount of seasoned spinach, and mozzarella cheese.  AMAZINGLY it tasted pretty good.  It was not at all what I had set out to make which is frustrating and upsetting to me, and I am sure Bobby Flay and Rachel Ray would have been positively mortified.  BUT, the Cook who was there (hubby) said it was, "progress."

This almost year of trying to cook from scratch has led me to this conclusion:  The cooking show I want to see on the Food Network is Cooking Healthy Meals From Scratch With Four Kids in the Kitchen, One Needy Husband, and Lots of Other Important Business to Attend To.

Post Script - On To-Do List for today:  Make peach cobbler.  Bad news:  The peaches were never taken out of the plastic bag from the grocers and properly put away because baby threw a Holy Hell Fit upon returning from said grocers.  Peaches are now moldy.......................................................

Banana cobbler?  Anyone?

P.S. - Santa might ruin your life.

So, let me just say:

1.  It was brought to my attention yesterday that I have a pastor for a reader (Thank you, pastor for reading my blog.  I am honored and was just wondering - while you are reading my blog - could you put in a good word for me with The Big Man?).
2.  After my post yesterday I felt compelled to tell you that I love my children dearly (and not just because they give me 99.9% of my blog material.)
3.  There are so many post scripts to yesterday's post about big boobs and being NOT Jewish that I may have a new chapter for my book.  Aren't you glad you stumbled over to your laptop and pulled up my blog?  Because you are going to get it first (I know, I am too generous.)

P.S. Santa Might Ruin Your Life

The conversation that follows occurred after a deep conversation about the reality of Santa.  Now, I am one of those joy-sucking parents who wish that my kids would just stop believing in Santa and get it the hell over with.  (I am sure you are surprised.)  Keeping up the Santa rouse for me is frankly exhausting.  My nine year old Boy still firmly believes in Santa, his eight flying reindeer, and I think, the Abominable snowman.  Girl 1 stopped fully believing in Santa a long time ago.  There are just too many unresolved issues for her (and I quote): 

• Mom, reindeer can't fly.
• We don't have a chimney and we always keep our doors locked.  Are you telling me Santa has a key to every one's house?  Is he like a burglar that gives?
• Where does he shop?
• Are elves dwarfs?  Real live dwarfs?  Are they the Oompa Loompas???  I just don't believe that.  Where did they come from? 

So, back to the conversation that ensued:

Girl 1 - Momma, I just had a horrifying thought.

Me (seriously afraid to ask) - Oh.  What baby?

Girl 1 - What if you get married, have kids, and you and your husband or wife really still believe in Santa.  So, since you believe in Santa you don't buy any of your kids any presents because you are sure Santa will take care of them.  And your kids believe in Santa.  But, then THERE IS NO SANTA.  So, on Christmas morning your kids wake up and they don't have any presents??????

Now, this was one of those times that I had so many things I wanted to say that I was rendered speechless.  Here are some of the things that were going through my head:  There are kids that don't ever get any Christmas presents and you know what - that's horrifying.  Santa is NOT real.  It's all momma and daddy, so that's also horrifying.  If two people have kids and those two people STILL BELIEVE IN SANTA - that is not only horrifying, but we got more problems than those kids not getting any presents.  No worries.  I didn't say any of that.  Instead I said:

Wow.  Then those parents would be in a tight spot, huh?  Now let's turn off the light and go to bed!

Girl 1 - So, mom - IS SANTA REAL OR IS IT JUST YOU AND DAD???

Me - Well, baby I will say what I say every time you ask me:  Do you believe in Santa?

Now, this answer is entirely unsatisfying for me.  I just hate it, but frankly I can't think of a better one and I am too tired to think anymore about it. 

Girl 1 - So, is Jesus real?  C'mon just tell us.

Say what?  How did Jesus get dragged into this?  I'm sorry, dude!  Now, what ensued is just too detailed and sketchy (due to my lack of actual knowledge) to relate here.  So, I will summarize what I said.  (What I think I said - again, my lack of actual knowledge sometimes confuses the details.):

• Jesus lived.  Then he died.  Then we and certain other people (called Christians) believe he rose from the dead and was the son of God.
• Santa lives in your heart if you believe in him.
• He also maintains a residence at the North Pole.  I think.
• Jerusalem is a real place.
• Jesus doesn't live in Jerusalem anymore.  Remember he died and then rose and now he lives in your heart?
• Jesus gets along with Santa and there is room in your heart for both of them.
• I don't actually know any reindeer that can fly.
• We kind of have Jesus' playbook.  It's called the bible.  I don't know of any playbook for Santa.
• Santa did not write the bible.  Neither did Jesus.
• Not all stories in the bible are real nor should we take them all as real events that actually happened.
• I am not sure what Jewish people think of Santa. 
• I am pretty sure Jews like Hanukkah.
• I am pretty sure Jonah and the Whale is not one of the more true stories in the bible.

That's all I got, friends.  I pray we have closed the book on Santa and boobs for a while.  And, I am going to try and keep Jesus safe.  Peace.

CLEP study guide for parent orientation

Last night marks the third time I have been "oriented" to being a parent of a second grader.  Thursday night I will be oriented to third grade for the second time, and later this year I will be First Communion parent oriented for the third time (Catholics are harsh ).  And, as I was sitting there intrigued and fascinated, I  thought about CLEPping.  Remember that?  Maybe you are going through it now, or maybe you are old enough to have a child going through it.  I remember it from high school Spanish.  And I remember experiencing CLEPping again for college math courses.  For those of you inexperienced with it - it's when you can just take a test in order to "CLEP" out of a subject that presumably you already know.  Officially CLEP stands for:  College Level Entrance Program. 

So, as I'm sitting there last night learning how to make sure my second grader is doing her math facts in the appropriate amount of time I stumbled on what could be my million dollar idea.  (Good news, eh?  I was tempted to text hubby during his Important Work Meeting - which prevented HIM from attending said orientation - to let him know.)  My idea was/is - why not have presumably knowledgeable parents take a Parent Orientation CLEP for each elementary grade level???  Now, I know what you are thinking....but, Monica, IS there a CLEP for Parent Orientation?  Well, that's where the idea comes in! I decided to design one!  I am starting with second grade since I figure I know that pretty well now.  Lucky you - you can get in on the ground floor and read my rough draft today (aren't you happy you got up and stumbled over to your laptop?).  Here it goes (let me know what you think)...

CLEP for Parents of Second Graders (correct answers to follow - you will need to turn your laptop upside down)

1.  True or false:  Parents must actually review their child's homework before signing off on it for the entire week and sending it back to school.

2.  True or false:  The second grade teacher likes it when you never check your child's Take Home and Leave At Home folder in order to remove graded papers so that by Labor Day the folder is bursting to the brim and a new folder must be purchased.

3.  True or false:  A progress report can be like a swift kick in the pants was in the Old Days Before Progress Reports.

4.  Multiple Choice:  Homework for a second grader should take approximately:
a.  The amount of time it takes to pull each of the hairs out of mom's head one by one.
b.   5 hours after the screaming subsides OR until their favorite after school program comes on TV.
c.  As long as it takes mom to figure out what the heck a prepositional clause is.
d.  a. and b., but not c. limited clause on d.

5.  True or false:  Cafeterias nowadays accept all forms of credit but not actual cash.  Actual cash will wind up in a mysterious place known as "I don't know what happened to it."  And mom will end up owing the cafeteria $1,892.98 at the end of the year for one lunch (that wasn't even very healthy because Jamie Oliver hasn't been to our school yet).

6.  True or false:  Library books and textbooks are the property of the school and should they be lost or damaged see #6. for the cost to parent.

7.  True or false:  Student attendance at school is critical for learning at school to occur.
Author's Note:  This seems like a giveaway to me, but at least five minutes is spent each year covering the importance of attendance.

8.  True or false:  Should your child be legitimately sick you must write a note explaining in detail the sickness (not just He/She was sick.).  Example:  "Please excuse Johnny.  He was sick with projectile vomiting and diarrhea causing me to scrub the floors till you could eat off them, wash the sheets which hadn't been washed in weeks, and bathe the dog."  Parent must sign note in blood.

9,  True or false:  BIRTHDAY TREATS SUCH AS CUPCAKES MAY BE SENT ON A CHILD'S BIRTHDAY (OR CLOSEST WEEKDAY SHOULD HIS/HER BIRTHDAY OCCUR ON A WEEKEND), BUT SAID TREATS WILL NOT BE EATEN IN THE CAFETERIA BECAUSE CHILDREN NOWADAYS MUST EAT THEIR LUNCH IN 27 MINUTES AND 34 SECONDS WITH NO EXCEPTIONS AND SHOVING A CUPCAKE IN THEIR MOUTHS IN ONE SECOND FLAT AND SWALLOWING WITHOUT CHEWING WOULD THROW THE ENTIRE SCHOOL TIME SCHEDULE OFF RESULTING IN CHAOS AND UNENDING CRAZINESS. 
Author's Note:  If it seems like I am shouting on #9...I am.

10.  True or false:  Your kids' public school teacher does an often thankless, underpaid job and usually loves your kid as much (and sometimes more) than you do and you should try and be nice to her or bake her some cookies sometime or send her a gift card.
 
That's my CLEP test!  Let me know how you think you did.  If you are worried that you didn't do too well, no worries:  I will be publishing a study guide soon.  (I decided against publishing the answers here upside down - you can send me $10 and I'll send you the correct answers - big ideas ain't cheap.) 

Happy Hump Day and Happy Parent Orienting,

Quitting the Day Job