I needed something else to do.

This is my brain on "serious."

Did you see the new badge in my sidebar?  I'm pretty excited about it.  My four kids, three jobs, and one husband have left me with plenty of time (and money) and I was looking for something to do.  Wait.  No.  That's not how it happened.

I was feeling somewhat depressed the other night while I was ignoring the pile of work on my desk and blog reading.  In the hopes that I'd won a Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes, I decided to check my email one last time before heading to bed.  Better than a sweepstakes, I had an email from BlogHer about an opportunity to participate in an initiative called #womenslives.  After I did a little research into this project, I thought probably they had mistaken me for someone a bit more influential.  But, no.  I am a woman after all.  And, turns out, my voice matters.

#womenslives is an amazing venture.  SheKnows Media and Public Radio International are partnering to produce in-depth reporting about women and engage communities in discussions.  You can read more about its inception here.

This may seem like a crazy thing for me to want to participate in when my blog is mostly about putting my pants on one leg at a time and trying to cook a meal without the smoke alarm going off. 

Don't worry.  I'm not changing and to prove it I made you a list of why it's not really that crazy.

1.  They want me to contribute to the conversation!?  For once I did not have to complete an eight page application, or have my blood type tested, or hand over my 25 year old GPAs, or write down my ever dwindling income level.  Being a woman is what has qualified me.  How great is that?

2.  I am a quality news junkie.  I am addicted to NPR.  I shush people (mostly my own family) when I am listening to a good show.  Most of my sentences begin like this:  The other day I heard this show on NPR...

3.  Did you know only 24% of news stories are about women?  That's shocking news for a news junkie.  This project affects all women (and men).  If we can change that statistic (and more importantly, people's mindsets) by this initiative - I'm all in.

4.  This affects me.  I've been thinking a lot lately about my life choices.  I had a career and then I left it to raise my family.  Now I am trying to make a Come-back and it's not easy.  In the past six months I think I've read everything the Internet has to offer on How to Re-enter the Work Force After Taking Time Off to Raise Your Family and I can't help but think there's got to be an easier way.  Everything from decent affordable child-care, health-care, and career choices have taken the fore-front in my brain.  To complicate matters - it turns out the successful career I had is not really the one I want now and I'm not sure it was the one I ever really wanted.  I want my girls to be able to do this thing called work and family better than I have and with more support from the community. 

5.  This affects my family.  I have three girls (and one boy that will someday, possibly like a girl?  gah!) who I am trying to raise the best way that I know how.  I try not to, but I worry about all sorts of things when it comes to my girls.  Some days my thoughts hover around:  How will I protect them from date rape? to I hope they make wiser career choices than I did. to I hope they have great affordable child care and wonderful health benefits. to Are they getting the education they need?  Participating in expanding the news coverage on topics that affect women is something I can share with my girls and actually do because worrying is a waste of time.

7.  Sometimes when I hear shows from PRI about women I'm left with a feeling of wanting to discuss this more with someone or I'm left wondering What can I do?  Here's my opportunity and I'm pretty psyched about it.

There you go.  I'm looking forward to the discussions and conversations.  I'll be posting some articles here and over on the Day In The Life Facebook page that I'd like to share with you or better yet, discuss with you.  And I'll be tweeting about it, too.  Grab some coffee or a beer.  Change starts here, right? 

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?

Top 10 Ways I Am Nicer Than A Substitute

Real life conversation:

Boy Child:  We had a sub today.  It was Ms. So and So.  She's so nice.  I think she's my favorite sub ever.

Girl 2:  Isn't she the one who has a strict policy of no screaming?

Boy Child:  Yes.  She's so unbelievably patient.  I really like her.

Girl 2:  Oh my gosh.  I love her.

Me:  Really?  You love her?  Isn't that a bit strong?  Y'know for a sub?  But I guess the no screaming thing sounds like a good policy.  Is she young?

Boy Child:  No.  She's a retired teacher.  I think she's about 67.  And, really mom.  Lots of kids love her.

Girl 1:  Oh, yeah.  She's super, super nice.  I wish I had been in her class when she was still teaching.

*more gushing about said substitute teacher*

Boy Child:  Yeah.....she's nicer than you, mom.

*dead silence*

Girl 1:  Aw.  That's kinda mean.  I don't think she makes chocolate chip cookies like mom................at least I don't think she does.  At least she hasn't brought them to school.

Me:  I'm right here.  I can hear you.

So, I bring you - The Top 10 Ways I Am Nicer Than A Substitute (Kinda..........depending on what kind of day I'm having and who the substitute is)

10.  I don't feel pressured to wear holiday sweaters or jewelry.  I just do it out of pure love for the holidays and the kids.

9.  I have a disobedient dog who is an asshead, but I don't run him over with my Yukon because the kids love him.

8.  When I see kids I know in the supermarket and my cart is full of beer and tampons, I don't hide.  I go right up and say, "Hey!  Don't I know you?"

7.  I don't need a lesson plan that someone else wrote to direct my day.  I fly straight by the seat of my pants.  Usually this involves something nice.  And fun.

6.  I have a strict policy of no screaming.  Instituted Monday through Friday between the hours of midnight and 2 a.m.

5.  I don't rely on the "know it all" in the room to tell me what to do.  I just know instinctively what I am supposed to do.  Sometimes it involves screaming.  It is sometimes nice.  And fun.

4.  I don't use bribery to make the kids behave.

3.  I usually know all my  kids' names.

2.  I can nicely improvise better than frat kids on quarter drink night.

And the top reason why I am nicer than a substitute:

1.  I make chocolate chip cookies.

Crafting didn't kill me. But there's still a chance.

So, I'm getting ready for Girl 1's 10th birthday Ladybug/Sweet Shoppe extravaganza.  And for me it's a challenge.  I am both crafting and baking impaired, and I have four kids.  The crafting and baking involved in birthday parties held at home can be especially problematic.  And, Girl 1 chose a theme that basically is not a theme....anywhere....on the Internet or IRL.  (Of course.) 

I promised I'd post the No Sew Ruffled Tote that I made yesterday if it was not crap.  Here it is. 

Girl 1 is in love with the tote.  And I must admit, I surprised myself.  I only burned one of my kids.  And, only once.

We will not be doing this as a craft during the party, though as I originally thought.  I really want my kid to have friends after the party, so I thought it would be bad protocol to burn all the girls at the party with hot glue guns (that and the party is only three hours and it took eight hours for me to make this).

Not dead yet!

So, guess who has five more days to make nine more No Sew Ruffled Totes?!

Stop being happy and start being skinny!

Occasionally something comes out of my mouth and I gasp because it is my mother.  And she is dead.  Now, you know I loved/love my mother dearly but there are some wacky things that used to come out of her mouth that quite frankly I have never understood.  Here are just a few:

1.  A stitch in time saves nine.  But, I can't sew.
2.  Idle hands are the devil's work.  But, what if your hands are busy stealing?
3.  Cleanliness is next to Godliness.  I'm sorry.  I just don't understand that.
4.  The early bird gets the worm.  But, we all know if you are a worm, sleep late.  (I *might* be a worm.)
5.  Curiosity killed the cat.  That's just wrong.  And besides, cats have nine lives and idle hands.
6.  (And this gem when she would find out that someone was mad at someone else.)  Well, now so-and-so has another job.  Getting unmad.  I actually semi-understand and like that one, but have updated it to a gem that one of my amazing blog readers taught me:  You can get unmad in the same pants you got mad in.
7.  Measure twice.  Cut once.  What do you do if you suck at measuring and cutting?
8.  I am the mother.  That's why.  Now, this is a good one that although I do not understand I use on a regular basis.
9.  Frowning takes more muscles than smiling.  Excuse me.  What the WHAT?


A few days ago, Girl 1 threw a mother-loving fit and then was pouting for a good four hours. 

Suddenly out of NO where (except possibly the after world) this came out of my mouth, "Y'know, frowning takes more muscles than smiling."

She silently looked at me with a look that said, "What in the &*%$ are you talking about?" 

And she actually did that while she was frowning.

And then I looked at myself (without an actual mirror, I mean I just examined my soul) and thought:

What in the &*%$ am I talking about???

FROWNING TAKES MORE MUSCLES THAN SMILING??? 

And I've known this fact since I was a CHILD???

Seriously?

I have been on a mission this summer to "count calories." (And I mean this in the loosest sense possible, like for example: A fruit smoothie probably has less calories than bacon, hash browns and scrambled eggs.)  Along with the counting calorie mission, I've been diligently trying to use all my muscles on a regular basis because I was doing research on calorie burning and some professional on the internets said that using the same muscles over and over will not burn as many calories as changing up your routine.  So, I have been a working out/calorie counting slave.

And here I had haphazardly stumbled on a diet gold mine. 

Why am I trying to use different muscles everyday working out?  I just need to be less happy and frown more.  And I could be using more muscles. 

I think my ma *might* be trying to communicate with me from the other side to let me know:  Exercise is for the birds!  Not smiling is the key!

Amen!

I am ready to start my new program!  Sign me up!

Polly Pocket in the house tonight and other reasons why we know it's still summer.

I've been so unfaithful to my blog and to my blogroll and I miss you all dearly.  No grand excuse.  I didn't win the lottery.   I haven't been offered an amazing book deal and been busy with publishers. I didn't discover my husband was secretly a woman.  I wasn't requesting odd sex scenes for the actress who is going to play me in the Lifetime movie.  I wasn't involved in a wardrobe malfunction at the Olympics.  No, I really have no good excuses.  I wasn't even watching the Olympics.  Oh, the horror.  How can I be an American?  I know.

Since I am still married (to a man), I still have four unruly kids, I am still working more jobs than a Jamaican, and it is still summer, this post is really anti-climatic.  (And, if you want to just detour to the end where I apologize to you and promise to be more faithful - I won't hate you in the morning.) 

Basically this post is just going to be a random list of what has been happening.

1.  I went to the Big D.  (That's Dallas, not Detroit.)  I went to Dallas for a work retreat and I learned quite a bit.  Here are a few of the highlights (names have been changed to protect the innocent - so innocent if you are reading, you're welcome).  Sublist!

• I had my photo taken by A Professional.  Now, let's just clear up something that's been kind of hanging on my blog for a while.  I am no Looker.  I have what is called "a face for radio."  AND, I appear horrible in photos because I am also what's called Non photogenic.  Or, in some circles Anti photogenic.  Every photo that's ever been taken of me looks just like me.  And, therein lies the problem.  I have been waiting my whole life for someone to take my photo and transform it into someone else.  Like Angelina Jolie.  Well, this gal that took my photo has skills.  She's not God, so I still do not look like Angelina Jolie, but finally I have a photo I can look at happily. 



That's Mrs. DayintheLife.  She kinda looks like she could be a reporter or famous novelist.  No?  Okay.  No.  At least she doesn't hurt your eyes as much as when she photographs herself with the long arm?

• Women who don't get out much (or who do) when left to their own devices can get quite ca-razy.  Let's just suffice it to say that I have a new favorite drink called the Pineapple Upside-down Martini.  Drink it!  Your body will thank you.
• I fully embraced my inability to coordinate clothes.  In fact, thanks to a fabulously insightful keynote speaker we had, I have decided that I might never dress myself again.  (Except for maybe going to the grocery store and working-out.)  Life is short.  If you suck at doing something, consider the options.  I cannot put together an outfit to save my life.  So, (and in a roundabout way this is really a thank you note) Justahausweyef, my sincere thanks for assisting me in the fashion department.  You would have probably cried at all the compliments I got on my coordinated outfits.

2.  This is Girl 3's favorite song.  Although, lately she has changed the words to, "Polly Pocket in the house tonight.  Everybody gonna have a good time."  This not only calls into question the parenting judgment of one who would let a three year old listen to a band that calls itself LMFAO, but the integrity of Polly Pocket herself.

3.  Yesterday hubby and I took our motley crew to Six Flags Fiesta Texas.  In years past, we've arrived around 3:30 and stayed until closing (9:30/10:00 p.m.).  We've selected this time schedule in order to avoid parental and child melt-downs.  This year we decided Girl 3 was old enough to stay all day without serious risk of a melt-down. 

And, I think our kids tried to kill us. 

We operate sans maps so I think we covered every square inch of the park about three times.  Did I say it's about 8000 acres?  Oh, and did I mention it was like 106 degrees?  It was nuts.  And fun.  Girl 3 had only one melt-down and it caused everyone in line for the bumper cars to lose all control.

She was dragged (by me) from the line screaming and spitting (yes, I said spitting).  She was too short to ride the ride, even with an adult.  This (unfortunately for her because it kinda ruins the drama when everyone is laughing at you) caused everyone in line (and me) to laugh hysterically either out of empathy or cruelty (I'll take either).

When I asked her a few minutes later when she was calm why she was spitting at me, she very calmly and sweetly said, "Because I am old enough to drive." 

Yeah, you are.  You've been driving me crazy since you were born.

4.  Girl 1 has become quite good at little quips in response to my little quips.  (Who me?  Quip?  I know.)

She has a horrible habit of wiping her mouth on the inside of the neckline of her shirt.  Ugh.  I hate it.  I've tried every way possible to get her to stop...short of public humiliation...which I tried this past week.

Me:  You are never going to get a boyfriend by doing that.  (She's nine.  I am *around* thirty-nine.)

Her:  That's okay, mom.  I already have one.

Ouch.

Girl 1:  1
Mom:  ZERO

Detour ends:  I am going to try to be more faithful to my blog and to all of your wonderfully funny and absolutely great blogs, but know that it's still summer and summer doesn't even allow for private potty time most days.  Until next time!

I don't know much, but I do know the Chupacabra (and he's not the largest rodent in the world).

I will be the first to admit I am not smarter than a fifth grader.  Hell, I am not even smarter than my pre-schooler some days.  Half of this inability to compute can be blamed on my ever shrinking memory.  (Who are you?  Why are you reading my blog?)  The other half can be blamed on the fact that I really suck at all kinds of trivia, science, history, politics, and paparazzi.  And the other half can be blamed on the fact that I confuse things in my head on a regular basis.  (Was Neil Armstrong the first man on the moon, or a famous jazz musician?  Is a doppelganger something evil representing misfortune or is it a show about a harried detective that I like to watch on PBS?  Do I respect philanthropists or philanderers?)

When you have four kids who ask you everything under the freakin' sun all day long, and who during the summer are home 24/7 this can be a little problematic.

During the last six weeks here is an incomplete list of things I have been asked and that I have attempted (feebly) to explain (know that my kids now *might* be misguided):

• What color is blood before it squirts out of your body?
• What makes something radioactive?
• What does "being paroled" mean?
• What happens after the policeman arrests you for speeding?
• Why are there magnets?
• What's photosynthesis?
• What's the tallest mountain in the world?
• Why are no two fingerprints alike?
• Who invented money?  Why can't we just make more at our house? 
• Is Cinderella the one with the wicked step mother or is it Snow White?
• What is Pixar from Disney Pixar?  What does it mean?
• Which presidents are still alive?
• Are there four Ice Age movies or three?
• Is there more than one "f" word?
• What's puberty?

Luckily my husband can explain most things (and if he can't, he just makes fairly believable sh*t up).  So, my usual answer goes something like this, "Photosynthesis is when some rare gases mix with the sun's rays and form tequila.  We use the tequila to make a common drink called a margarita.  There are many recipes for them and we usually put salt on the rim of the glass.  I think.  But, I am sure dad knows more, so when he gets home let's ask him.  And then mom will drink a margarita."  Or sometimes I just say, "That sounds like a great question for Google.  Go look it up and prepare a five page report on what you find."

Here's a short list of things I do not/did not know (just pulled randomly from this past month) mainly because I did not remember the facts as they were presented to me or I just plain don't know/don't care:

Many of these have to do with whether or not people are dead or alive and if they are dead, how they died.  You can analyze that at your leisure and decide whether or not I am obsessed and have a problem.  Or, I can save you the analysis and tell you:  Yes, I am.  I have many problems.

1.  I did not know Flo-Jo was dead. 
2.  I did not know Anne Frank died in the end (prematurely, I should say since we all die in the end).
3.  I did not know who Arlo Guthrie was.  Although, the 100th anniversary of Woody Guthrie's death has been commemorated on par with the death of Ronald Reagan (whose funeral might still be in progress).
4.  I am not sure what the largest sea animal is.
5.  I do not know which is bigger:  an elephant or a whale.
6.  I do not know the tallest mountain in the world.
7.  I am not sure why there are magnets.
8.  I do not know how many Disney princesses there are.

All of this is to give you an idea of my frame of mind a few weeks ago when hubby brought home this:

For some reason, Girl 1 was distrustful of the facts as they appeared on the box and felt the need to pose questions to all of us every morning.

(This was a joy to me as I have already explained to you how I excel at these things.)  And, did I mention my Keurig is broken???

Here's how pre-coffee breakfast conversations have gone:

Girl 1:  Mom, is the saguaro really the tallest cactus in America?
Me:  I don't know.  I think so.
Girl 1:  Mom, is the White Sturgeon really the largest freshwater fish?
Me:  Hmm.  I'm not sure.  Is a whale a fish?
Girl 1:  Mom, is Mount Washington really the Windiest Place?
Me:  That's a good question.  How would they even know what the windiest place was?  What do they use to measure it?  Their licked fingers???

I was a little irritated that after making such painstaking attempts to be accurate in my answers, it wasn't until a few days into this game that Girl 1 told me these "Superlatives" were limited to America.  After I found that out, I would just respond with, "Oh, I'm not sure what this is in America.  I know how it is in the whole world, but to know about just America, you'll have to Google it." 

(I am sure this made me appear much smarter to my kids.)

Finally, Girl 1 asked a question I knew a lot about.

She said, "Mom, I FOUND A MISTAKE ON THIS BOX!  I KNOW the largest rodent is NOT the American Beaver!"

I said, "You are absolutely right.  It's not."

Because, this is trivia I actually know!  I hate rodents more than I hate raccoons and so naturally I know that the capybara is the largest rodent in the world.  (Forget the fact that I knew the box would have listed the largest rodent in America.  Which probably is, in fact, the American beaver.)  There is even a capybara at our local zoo that we visit frequently, so I have seen one in person.

I waited for Girl 1 to give me the right answer and she loudly proclaimed,

"A CHUPACABRA is the largest rodent!"

Before I could laugh hysterically, or astound her with the fact that I knew the right answer she said,

"Wait.  That's not right.  A CAPYBARA IS THE LARGEST RODENT IN THE WORLD!"

I am deeply disturbed that at age nine, Girl 1 seems to be following directly in my footsteps.

Cake pops! (In which I practice Extreme Procrastination and then overachieve.)

As you probably know, I am a self-professed slacker mom and I am also a non-baker/cook.  I really suck at baking.  I can screw up basically any "simple" recipe.  So much that I look for the words "simple" in titles and then scan the recipes to see just how simple they are before making the final decision to make them. 

These past few years I have realized that my life is probably half over and if I want to ever bake stuff, I better get busy.  Against my better judgment, this has led to me experimenting with all kinds of baking.  Some of them were successful.  Some of them, not so much.  Mostly, my family has not suffered.  I have written much about my successes and my screw-ups.  I have perfected: biscuits, homemade brownies, and some cookies including plain sugar cookies.  I still struggle with:  frosting a cake, cookie decorating that doesn't look like it was done by a first grader (and some first grader skills are way above mine), and some kinds of cookies (the kinds that burn easily).

My slackerish mom ways and my often misguided attempts at baking collided somewhat when Girl 2 announced about a year ago that she would like me to make cake pops for her eighth birthday.  She was forward thinking in giving me nearly a year to step up to the challenge.  Naturally, I waited eight months to get off my slackerish a$$ and research the making of cake pops.  Then, I waited another month for the cheapest cake pop maker to go on sale.  Then, I waited until the day before Girl 2's birthday to get the cake pop maker out of the box and make the damn things.

And, THEN guess what.  God cut me a break.  Or, He felt sorry for me because I am such a last minute slacker.  No matter what the divine intervention:  THEY WERE EDIBLE and FESTIVE!

I know.  I can't believe it either.  I actually was successful despite my extreme procrastination.

And, because I love you - just in case you ever want to make cake pops - I am going to show you what I did so that you can make festive ones too (with the least amount of effort)!

Here are the steps I followed (adjust as you see fit).  (I feel my list is much more real and entertaining than the gazillion YouTube videos I watched while doing my research.  You're welcome.)

1.  Buy a Bella cake pop maker and lollipop sticks when they go on sale at Target.
2.  Keep it nicely stored in your closet until the day before you need to have your pops ready.
3.  Wait until late afternoon that day and start to panic.
4.  Get the cake pop maker out and browse through the 100 pages of directions, warnings, and warranties (violence to the cake pop maker - and you *might* feel violent at this point - is not covered under warranty).
5.  See if you have any of the ingredients to make the chocolate pop recipe that came with the damn maker because you don't have time to go to the store before your baby wakes up and your other three kids get off the bus.
6.  Eat a yummy snack because you HAVE all the ingredients for the chocolate pop recipe in the book!  (And, also you will need to feel better when all your kids get home and the kitchen is a filthy mess and you are still not done.)
7.  Make the cake pops.   Here is the recipe I used and it was yummy.  You should really double it because you will probably need about 20 for any type of small children and after a few beers you are going to want another 20.  Trust me on that one.

EZ Scratch Chocolate Cake Pops or Donut Holes
1/2 cup unsalted butter, soft
1 cup brown sugar
2 eggs
1 t vanilla
1 cup flour
1/2 t cream of tartar
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

Cream butter and sugar.  Add all other ingredients.  Follow directions that come with the your cake pop maker.

These are the cooked pops before decorating.  Yeah.  See why you should double the recipe?  They are bite-sized for Pete's sake.

8.  Desperately search for the lollipop sticks you swear you bought.  Curse loudly and slam another beer because YOU CANNOT FIND THEM ANYWHERE.  Text hubby and ask him to get you some sticks at Hobby Lobby.  Delete text because hubby has no idea what lollipop sticks are and it's doubtful he can find Hobby Lobby.
9.  FIND the sticks!  Praise yourself and then quickly curse yourself for not having meltable chocolate for decorating.  Damn it.
10.  Drag four kids to Hobby Lobby for meltable chocolate and more sprinkles.
11.  Get home and drink a beer because you are half way through!  Melt your chocolate, pop the sticks into the balls (dipping the stick in chocolate before inserting it into the ball helps it all stick together better), and cover each cake pop with chocolate (shaking them slightly to spread the chocolate, but not so much that the stick pops out or the damn pop breaks).  Immediately after covering them with chocolate (while the chocolate is still gooey) sprinkle sprinkles all over your chocolate ball.
12.  Pop them into some Styrofoam (I am obviously not a planner, so I used the Styrofoam that came with the cake pop maker.)

Maybe that's why they wrap the cake pop maker in Styrofoam?  Because you're gonna need it later?  I'd like to think so.

13.  Refrigerate your pops a few hours to make them harden.
14.  Make dinner for six now starving people and drink another beer.
15.  Put all your pops into little clear plastic bags and tie them with a cute ribbon.

Festive?

16.  Fall into bed at around midnight having drank (drunk?) a six-pack of beer and made adorable pops!
17.  Wake up clear headed (mostly) and have the foresight to put all the fancy cake pops into a basket so that no kid destroys them before they are popped in their little mouths.

Girl 2 kinda looked like Little Red Riding Hood.

So, that's my Cake Pop tutorial for dummies (no offense).  I hope you will try them.  Happy Birthday, Girl 2!  Momma loves you enough to make you cake pops (and that's a whole lotta love)! 

I would like to try to make some eyeballs or other things that are round and ballish.  But that will have to wait.  I have clearly overachieved and I am thankful to God.  (And I don't want to piss Him off just yet.)

My kids may not take me seriously.

Santa in his infinite wisdom brought the kids a Wii for Christmas and frankly that thing drives me nuts.  First of all, I am a control freak.  Yes, I said it.  I'm not a control freak in all areas of my life (well, I make myself feel good by saying that), but when it comes to what my kids are doing - I am a little psycho.  I can't stand them mindlessly playing video games (of any kind) while there is:  laundry to be done, a kitchen to be cleaned, food to be cooked, a floor to be cleaned, or a carpet to be vacuumed.  It makes me a little irritated.  So, tonight I reached my wits end and decided to make another chore chart (we've had approximately 100 chore charts in our lives because I am inconsistent and a slacker mom).  This one was to be entitled Technology Usage Chore Chart (not as daunting as it sounds - apparently).

My charts are not power point material.  They are more on par with a kindergartner's presentation.  For example, I made the chart with recycled paper and a thick black Sharpie (because I couldn't find a decent pen).  The columns read (as far as I can remember):  Make beds, fold blankets, put all lovies on beds, put clean clothes neatly away, practice piano, do homework.  So, when I finished showing the kids my masterpiece and explaining all the intricacies of what must be accomplished in order for them to use technology (Wii and iTouches) here is what happened:

Boy Child:  Um, mom, is there going to be a Q and A?

Me:  Huh?

Boy (snickering):  Mom, do you know what Q and A means?  Without giving anyone a chance to answer.  It means Question and Answer!

Wild laughing amongst all the children.

Me:  Okay.  Right.  Do you guys have any questions?

Girl 1:  Are we allowed to fold the blankets into origami cats?

Me (Quickly realizing I *might* be losing control.):  Um.  No.

Girl 2:  Are we allowed to fold the blankets into triangles like they do flags?  Because dad showed us how to do that one time.  It's really hard, but he took the time to show us.

Me (Thank you, hubby, you are immensely helpful.):  Um.  No.

Girls 1 and 2:  But, baby doesn't practice piano............or do homework.

Me:  Fine.  I'll cross those out.

Baby:  YES I DO PRACTICE PIANO!!!  AND I DO HOMEWORK.

Me:  OKAY.  Does everyone understand???  We start tomorrow.  Are we all good with this???

Boy:  Are we to the Q and A yet?

Me:  YES for the love of God.

Boy:  Okay.  My question is - are you taking questions?

Again, collective snickering.

I may need to make another chart entitled Taking Mom Seriously.

UGH! In which my kid throws a fit for being good.

I will preface this by saying:  My kids are weird.  They are from Uranus (I've always wanted to work that into a blog post, so congratulations to me!) and hubby and I are not from Uranus (thankfully).

I don't usually write about Girl 2 because there is not a whole lot to say.  I love her as much as I love all the others, but she's fairly "easy."  I can trace this "ease" back to when she first popped out and didn't ever cry.  Since I was used to the Boy and his, shall we say, unique personality, and Girl 1 who cried The First Sixteen Months of Her Life And Then A Whole Lot, I was immediately alarmed by Girl 2.  While I was enjoying my two day quiet recovery from giving birth, I mentioned my concern to a nurse at the hospital and she laughed and said, "Baby, do you have other kids?"  When I said I had two others who cried 24/7 for all reasons or sometimes no reasons she said, "Well, it looks like you finally got lucky!"

Now, lucky was probably ambitious.  But, I must say of all my kids, Girl 2 is probably the most easy-going.  She's a lot like hubby.  They roll with the punches for a long time and then either blow-up, or become extremely agitated for No Good Reason.  What follows is an example of the latter.

Example of a Blow-Up for No Good Reason

There is a lovely Reward System at the kids' school called Caught You Being Good.  If you have kids, you might be familiar with this reward system since it dates back to Tyrannosaurus Rex and Baby T-Rex and is more American than apple pie.  (I got that from Wikipedia, so I am sure it's true.)  If you are not familiar with this system, it's pretty easy to learn.  The kids act "good" and if they are randomly seen by an adult doing anything "good" they get a ticket that says, "Caught You Being Good!"  It's not like going to Disneyland, but oddly the kids seem highly motivated by this system (which is probably why it has survived the Roman Inquisition, the plague, the Trail of Tears, and the Royal Wedding (not in that order because remember I Don't Know History). 

So, fast forward to last Friday when I got a note from the Principal saying both Girl 1 and 2 would be eating lunch with the Principal compliments of the Principal.  AND they would be getting a dessert.  SA-WEET! 

If you are a regular you know that one of the things I hate most in life is making school lunches.  It's not because I am not good at it - as you will see later - I can make the hell out of a school lunch.  It's just because I am lazy and a Slacker Mom.  Making 3 to 4 school lunches each and every day wears me out.

I do it because:  1.  We cannot afford school lunches ($1.80) for each of our children every school day, and 2.  Despite Jamie Oliver's best efforts I remain seriously frightened of school lunches (this dates back to My Used to Be Life). 

So, my kids get homemade lunches (all four of them) each and every day. 

This is super fine with the girls.  The girls are terrified of school lunches, the lunch line, and the cafeteria workers (I take no responsibility for this neurosis).  The Boy (for reasons we have yet to figure out) loves preservatives, chemicals, grease, and salt.  So, he will happily save his money and buy a lunch at least once a month.  Since I am all for him living, I don't allow it more than that (or he would buy it every day - since most days he has more money in his wallet than I do). 

So, here's how it mostly (I have taken some author's privilege with details) went down last Friday:

Girl 1 and 2 squealing in high pitched voices:   MOM, GUESS WHAT!!! WE BOTH GOT PICKED FOR CAUGHTYOUBEINGGOOD TO EAT LUNCH WITH THE PRINCIPAL!!!  ISN'T THAT GREAT, MOM!!!

Me:  Yes, that's awesome.  I am so proud of you.  And, even more super sweet is that I won't have to make lunches that day!!!  So, yippee!!!  Great job, girls!!!

Girl 1:  Wait. So, we have to eat the school lunch?

Me:  Well, yes.  That's what the note says.  Principal is buying you a school lunch and a school dessert.  So, YIPPEE, right???

Girl 1:  But, we hate school lunches, mom.  They are gross.  AND we are scared of the lunch line, remember?  AND the ladies frighten us a little, too.  So, no this is not good news.

Girl 2 (who has been eerily quiet on the matter):  So, does this mean we have to eat a school lunch???  MOM, DOES IT???  DOES IT MEAN WE WON'T BE GETTING A SANDWICH, FRUIT, CHIPS, A NUTRITIOUS SNACK, AND A COOKIE???  (Her voice has somehow managed to raise in pitch so that now all the dogs within a five mile radius have their ears perched up.)

Suddenly I felt like this situation was spinning out of control, but similar to when you are about to lock your keys in your car, or eat dark chocolate when you know you shouldn't - I was powerless against it.

Me:  Yes, babies, you are going to have to eat the school lunch, but just for one day and you get a dessert, and THIS IS A REWARD YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO LIKE IT!!!  NOW LET'S STOP SCREAMING AND BE HAPPY!!!

Girl 1:  Okay.  I guess it's not that bad.  Skips off while I say a quick prayer of Thanksgiving.

Girl 2:  Now, pay attention because this is one of those zero to sixty Parenting Moments.  I AM NOT GOING TO EAT A SCHOOL LUNCH, MOMMA.  I REFUSE TO DO CAUGHT YOU BEING GOOD.  I WAS NOT REALLY GOOD ANYWAY.  I HATE THE SCHOOL LUNCHES.  THIS IS AWFUL.  I AM NOT GOING TO SCHOOL THAT DAY.  CALL DAD.  I AM NOT GOING TO SCHOOL.  NO MATTER WHAT THE PUNISHMENT.

You get the picture - and, yes, it was that BIG.  I'll spare you the details except to say this fit lasted about one hour.  The fit contained high pitched wailing and screaming, moaning incoherent words, flailing, and possibly foaming from the mouth.  And the simple reason:  A lovely reward from the principal for good behavior.

The moral of the story?  I have no idea.  Let me know if you figure it out.  I remain skeptical and more than a little frightened of school lunches and Caught You Being Good as a staple of Reward Systems in America.

Clean enough.

Thanks to everyone who clicked over to A Nervous Tic Motion and read my guest post.  Thanks also to everyone who left me some comment love.  For some reason some of the comments did not appear on the site.  But, I got them through email and am grateful for you guys taking the time to read it.  Big hugs!

My mother was a Very Clean Woman. She taught me the Proper Way to clean many things. Here is just a small sample of the things that I used to know how to clean properly:

• the toilet
• the tubs
• the baseboards (Who the heck cleans those things anyway?)
• a light fixture
• the refrigerator
• the range hood (if that's even what that thing is called) and all its respective parts
• the inside of the oven
• silver (the real kind that you eat off of, not the kind you wear - because I still know how to clean that)
• the bottoms of all my pans
• the windows - inside and out

I am not quite sure what happened in between when I used to know how to clean and now, but now I pretty much hate to clean and quite frankly, I am not sure I even know how.  I'd rather try on bathing suits in tiny dressing rooms, with four children staring at me, bad lighting, pasty skin, and incorrect sizes (because it couldn't be I've gained weight in 20 years).  That's how much I hate to clean and am not really interested in helping myself. 

In the interest of my happiness (I think) hubby let's me have a cleaning lady.  He's such a great guy that in the past when we've had to tighten our proverbial belts (different from chastity belts, but I'm sure just as painful) he politely makes no move to "cut" the cleaning lady.  Suffice it to say:  Hubby is the best, and I pretty much love our cleaning lady.

As much as I love our cleaning lady, there are two things that have me a little worried.  1.  She does have limitations.  She clearly outlines the items she does not clean (see above list minus tubs and toilets).  And I wonder:  Is this in the hopes that the actual homeowner will manage those?  YIKES!  And, the other thing that has me a little worried:  (since I no longer really remember)  2.  I fear my children are not ever going to know the proper way to clean things. 

It seems that we may have reached a point at which my two concerns have converged in such a way that *kind of* makes me want to have a cleaning refresher course.   

My conversation with Girl 2 the other day: 
Girl 2 in kitchen gazing up toward the range hood:  Mom, what's that nasty looking thing up there?

Me:  Oh, that?  That's called a....hmm.....I think that thing's called a range hood.

Girl 2:  What's that thing inside of it that's all..........gooey?

Me:  Oh.  Hmm............that mesh looking thing?  I'm not really sure what that's called.  (I have a vision of my mom rolling over in her grave.)  Why do you want to know???

Girl 2:  Well, it looks gross.  I guess it can't be cleaned?

Me:  Hmm.  (Feeling suddenly and oddly defensive about said gooey thing or myself for not cleaning it.)  No, I think it can be cleaned.

Girl 2:  How would you clean it?

Me:  Good question.  (Thinking:  How would you clean that nasty looking thing?  But more importantly:  WHY?)  I think you could just put it in the dish washer?

Girl 2:  Hmm.  So...........I guess you just don't?

Ouch.  It would be fair to say I was hurt.  It's left me wondering a little about cleaning and the possibility that I should take it more seriously.   

But, I have decided that until she (or anyone else who lives here) discovers something else that is lacking in cleanliness, I will wait patiently for the feeling to pass and try to avoid the Range Hood.

10 Signs That You Are Ready for Motherhood (from an actual mother)

So, this weekend I filled out an adoption letter of recommendation for a good friend of mine.  Now, if you know me well, you know that I have a long, unbelievable, and painful history with adoption.  Filling out the form was bittersweet.  Sweet because I cannot truly think of someone who is more filled with love to give to a child.  Bitter because it brought up memories that although buried deep (and often forgotten) when brought to the surface are incredibly and surprisingly hurtful.

Coincidentally I also attended a baby shower yesterday.  Since I am Old I have few opportunities to attend showers anymore.  Most of my friends are "done," so I often think the next shower I attend I will be throwing...for my girls.  This baby shower was grand.  It was for someone who has become a friend of our family.  She and her husband are some of the most generous, kind, and loving people you will meet.  She has a way with kids (especially mine) that I rarely witness.  She is a teacher of the highest quality.  All of that aside, I love baby showers.  There is typically great food that you can eat without utensils, a chance to win prizes doing things I tend to be really good at (because I have a whole slew of kids of my own), yummy cake, and a little goodie bag for adults.  What's not to like?  Baby showers represent everything grand about parenthood - precisely because the kids are usually not there yet.  Kidding!  Kind of.

We also had some unexpected news this weekend.  We found out someone we know is expecting possibly before it would be considered "appropriate."  Again, this news was met in a bittersweet way.  Sweet because I can think of few times that I would not welcome a pregnancy.  Bitter because I know the news of the pregnancy and subsequent parenthood could be an uphill battle.

In a nutshell I was all wrapped up in babies and parenthood this weekend.  These questions I either heard verbalized, or just had wandering around in my head.  At the shower:  Were the parents "ready" to be parents?  Was the baby's room ready?  Had they thought of everything?  What else would need to be purchased?  During the completion of the adoption paperwork:  Did I know of any reasons why these people should not become parents?  Were there any disturbing signs, for example, alcohol or narcotic use?  Was this a "solid" marriage to the best of my knowledge?  How do you know if someone is ready to be a parent?

Jeesh!  This all got me thinking, and frankly, kinda panicked:  With four kids, was I ready to be a parent?  Was I ready to be a mom?  After all, what were the signs you are ready?  I don't remember seeing them.  I could think of a fairly good list, but I thought I better do some research to find out what the experts were saying.  Thank God, that if you have the Internet,  it's not hard to find out if you are ready to be a parent.  It's also great to read how to be a "bad parent".  And perhaps we could have just avoided this Ready for Motherhood question by knowing if we are ready to have sex in the first place.  Sounds reasonable.  The experts seem to have a lot to tell me.  Although I thoroughly enjoyed reading these articles and many others, I am not sure these lists are comprehensive enough, and I am not sure that some of these people are actual parents or mothers.

That is the history behind the list that follows.  If you are thinking of becoming a parent - this is just a starting place.  Because I am a woman, I decided to modify my list to prospective moms (mostly).  I highly recommend reading ALL the lists you can get your hands on.  After all, they are the experts (I only play one on my blog).  The more information you can get, the better.  At its best, information will help provide a small insight into parenting/motherhood, at its worst it will actually make you think you are ready.

Are You Ready for Motherhood/Parenthood?  10 Signs to Help You Know

1.  You are not concerned with your boobs.  During pregnancy your boobs will inflate to the size of life rafts.  After pregnancy they will become milk jugs to perform the natural act of breast-feeding.  After you are done with breast-feeding they will look like deflated tires and have stretch marks on them at which time you will say, "Honey, I think we're ready to have another baby!"  Adoptive moms may avoid this pitfall (no pun intended), but there is the newer trend to breastfeed your adoptive child (a trend I do not fully understand).  Husbands/Partners will need to know that for a good two years breasts will just be another body part that performs a function (much like a.........hand).

2.  You are happy with the clothes you have right now in your closet.  Know that these are the clothes and clothing trends that will take you well into the next century.  Okay, not that far.  But, you will be wearing these clothes for a good two years.  Longer if you manage to get pregnant or adopt another child soon.  As the first article states quite truthfully, "Parenting is all consuming."  Read:  You will not have a lot of time for fashion trends and shopping for them.  You might want to make sure your partner is happy with seeing you look like this (don't worry too much, though, because lack of sleep makes you forget a lot of stuff that may seem important now).

3.  You are comfortable with all bodily functions.  And if you are not, you can fake it appropriately.  As a pregnant mom or as the husband of a pregnant woman you will come face to face (and often literally) with some body parts and functions you never knew were a part of life.  Or, if you knew they were a part of life, you tried to ignore it.  Now, if you are adopting, don't think you are off the hook.  Know that babies can do some pretty funky things......that are not in the Parenting Books.  GET TO KNOW IT.  These "things" go under the names of:  Projectile vomiting, reflux, meconium (if you are not familiar with that - you may want to look it up...STAT!), diarrhea, etc., etc.

4.  You function adequately on zero to two hours of sleep.  Some babies don't sleep.  They are not sick, they are not colicky, they are not crazy.  They just don't sleep.  It will be your job to take care of that baby should they be yours.  Make sure you are up to it.

5.  You have a partner you trust through and through and who will tell you if you are going insane.  Babies are a lot of work.  This can really not be emphasized enough.  The amount of work does not decrease as the baby grows.  It just changes and morphs into another kind of work.  I recommend you have a partner/a husband/a soul mate.  I also recommend you truly know this person because you may go several weeks without actually speaking to your partner (depending on what The Baby is doing) except in passing or on the phone.  If this should happen to you, it's helpful to know and trust your partner so that you are not surprised or offended (for example) when the person who was Pre-children immensely concerned with personal hygiene has forgotten to brush his/her teeth for two days.  It is also incredibly helpful to have someone who will gently (or forcefully - depending on the circumstances) tell you (or vice versa):  YOU ARE CRAZY TOWN.
 
6.  You can imagine baby's pee, poop, vomit, spit-up, or any other secretion that might come out of baby on your favorite _____________________________ (fill in the blank, for example:  leather couch, seat of your clean car, favorite silk blouse, white carpet, draperies that cost $1000/panel, etc.). And after imagining this you will not want to cry and lose all control.  If you think I am kidding - - I am not.

7.   You can go a while without a pedicure, a manicure, teeth whitening, botox injections, a decent hair-cut, or eyebrow waxing.  Now, with most my list I am talking to The Masses - not Angelina Jolie.  So, if you are Angelina Jolie - don't read my list.  If you aren't - read on!  It's not that you won't get these personal hygiene things, it just might not be on the timeline you had before baby.  So, for example, you may be more concerned with BRUSHING your hair than actually having a great hair style (that's just an example - I can think of many, many more).

8.  You can dumb down your vocabulary and your topic of conversation at any time for any reason.  Quite honestly a lot of your early parenting will focus on pee and poop.  If you are unable to sustain a conversation about theses topics for about 30 minutes than you may want to consider that.  You will also find yourself muttering things that are just.........insane to people who do not have children.  Sample conversation of actual parents (with actual college degrees):
Husband:  Did she just say da?  I think she just said da?  Honey, did you hear that?
Wife:  She sure did.  Did you just say "da"???  Oh yes you did.  You are the smartest baby.
Husband:  There!  She said it again!  I'm sure now.  Call my dad.  SHE JUST SAID DA!!!
Wife:  Do you think she said "DA?"  Or was it "DOG?"  OH MY GOSH!!!  She's only TWO WEEKS.  DID SHE JUST SAY DOG???
Husband:  My God!  Forget my dad - call the paper!

9.  You are able to delay your own personal needs temporarily (or sometimes permanently - depending on how many kids you have) for the needs of your children.  Example:  You are going to need a lot of caffeine in the first weeks of parenthood (see #4).  Sometimes it's impossible to get the caffeine down in a timely or urgent enough manner.  You need to be okay with that.  Imagine you are headed downstairs to get your coffee and baby (upon hearing you trying to have a peacful cup of coffee) wakes up an hour early and starts crying wanting to be fed.  You go back upstairs and cheerfully (that's important) get baby and go to either breast feed her or bottle feed her.  This requires use of your hands (as does changing her poopy diaper) which you realize (after trying!) you cannot do while holding your cup of steaming hot coffee.  I hope I have illustrated that appropriately (this is just ONE of a million examples).

10.  Last, but not least.  You are willing to love another being so much that it will hurt your heart, widen your smile, and make you want to be a much, much better person each and every second of each and every day that you are blessed with being together. 

That's my list.  I wish the very best of luck and many, many blessings to all prospective parents out there!  Parenthood continues to be the best ride of my life.

feels like a monday to me

I haven't blogged in a LONG time due to many factors. None of which have to do with writer's block, since only great writers get that, and I am decidedly not a very good writer. Good writers would have taken all the chaos that has been my life since February and published a great book with it. I instead have avoided the computer like the plague. Well, leave it to this day to break the spell...

The weekend past was not all that great to begin with, so expecting that today, MONDAY would bring any salvation was a long stretch. But, I dared to think it anyway. The weekend was a mix of joy and pain: A cancelled fire pit due to high winds. One hellaciously scary poopy diaper that required laundering and bathing (her not me, although I considered it). A strange turn of events in which a jar with NO BOTTOM got put in the cupboard and I poured tomato sauce into it. That turned the kitchen into a thick, saucy mess and left me virtually paralyzed and wondering what the hell had just happened. Laundry, laundry, laundry and then more laundry after the tomato sauce. That's all I can remember. I think I blocked the rest out to save my sanity.

So...like I said. Expecting today to be grand was probably a long stretch. I woke up made breakfast, lunches, and went walking. Not half bad for a Monday. I considered a shower, but decided I would have plenty of time later for that. I made the baby cereal with bananas and that seemed harmless. I forgot to tightly screw the bottle top back in place on the bottle, though. (This is an important point for later.) I made plans to have a much needed (after the not-so-great weekend) playdate with a friend and her kids. After C. asked for the 50th time, "Is it almost time for our playdate?" I decided to forgo my shower and hair wash in order to just get to the damn playdate. I tried to quickly feed baby her bottle (the one with said loose top). In a matter of seconds formula leaked all over both of us. When I say "all over" I mean I had formula in my bra and she had it in her bellybutton. Shower back on...hair dirty one more day. C. screaming, "IS IT TIME TO GO TO THE PLAYDATE YET?"

We finally get to the playdate at 11:30 a.m. We have to leave at 12:30 because C. has speech. So, we play, talk, and eat quickly. Mostly the girls fight. Joy. I am keeping my friend's kids at 1:40ish for about an hour. That's fine - I welcome the diversion. Back home at 12:30, C. off to speech. Baby in bed at 1:00 for first nap of the day. My friend leaves her kids - her girl child throws a huge fit and wakes baby. Baby back up at 1:30. Baby CRANKY. Friend's girl child now sound asleep on my couch. Yay. My daughter gets back home from speech. She and my friend's boy play for about five minutes in which time baby is screaming for a bottle and the boy pees. His mom did not bring clothes for him. No problem. I will pop him in some of M's clothes. As I am trying to get the clothes, and feed baby her bottle he finishes peeing on the bathroom floor and the phone rings. M.'s piano teacher is leaving a message that there is an emergency and my friend's boy is standing in about one inch of pee in my bathroom. And baby is still screaming for her bottle. Against my better judgment I answer the phone. Can we change our piano to 3:15 instead of 4:30 on Wednesday? Not a problem I say while baby is screaming in my ear for her bottle back, my friend's boy is still standing in pee, and now my C. has gotten out some permanent ink stampers and is stamping on what I hope is paper on the kitchen table.

I get off the phone, put baby down, clean up the pee, get him in clean clothes, take away the stampers, get baby again, and check the calendar. I'll be damned if M. doesn't have a dental appointment at 3:00 on Wednesday. What are the chances of that???

At that exact moment I said good-bye to Monday. The rest of the day was downhill. Tomorrow will be better (how can it be worse???). The bathroom smells like bleach, my hair smells really bad, and I have to be two places at once on Wednesday. I will take some advice from today and wash my hair and shower first thing.