headaches and procrastination

After we got home from a great long weekend in CT Sunday, I went down into the basement and started dragging out and organizing the Christmas decorations.  As we were coming into the development, it seemed like every other house had people out on ladders putting up their lights.  It totally put me in the mood. (for decorating, gutter minds)


Alex was on a mission to get some of the outdoor lights up because it wasn't too cold, so while he did that, I started a big pot of chili in the crockpot, and then began the grand task of sifting through the boxes.


I am pretty organized about it, I guess.  One year I ended up getting these red storage tubs, so I pack everything I can into those - then I feel all color coordinated and like I know which tubs are for Christmas.  So I don't have to rummage through every freaking bucket in the basement.  I also have orange tubs for Halloween decorations, brown for Thanksgiving and some pastel colored ones for Easter.  Don't judge a good color system.  It's very functional.

So Sunday was all about dragging out the buckets. Yesterday was supposed to be about going through the buckets and today was supposed to be about actually decorating.  Because it just has to be done by December 1.  It's a mental rule.  But a bad thing happened yesterday, and that bad thing was that I had a dumb headache that a Motrin 800 didn't even touch, and I did not even do very much at all til the afternoon.  Then I had to go to Lowe's to get some stuff and then of course to Walmart for groceries.  By the time I got home, I had to get the kids from school and start a quickie crockpot chicken.

Let me just tell you about how I have been loving my crockpot.

And that chicken was so freaking simple and great tasting, it just blew my mind.

I love my crockpot.

So anyway, I am a day off.  That is the point of this post.  I am a day behind, and yet here I sit.  Typing this post.  Like the procrastinator I am.

Squeeze is a very funny word

Last night while I was on my end of the couch and my husband was on his end, I all of a sudden noticed that my feet were not getting squeezed.

This is not my foot.  I know this because those are not my husband's hands.

So I was all like "These feet aren't going to squeeze themselves." 
And as he squoze, he was all like, "Why don't you ever squeeze my feet?" 
And I was all like, "O.M.G.  Whatever you do, do not stop squeezing.  This is so great. Ahhhh."  
And then after a second he goes, "When are you going to squeeze my feet??"
And I go "Shush.  I just want to sit here and concentrate on how great it is when you squeeze my feet.  I cooked you chili in the crock pot and made the very special rolls."
And he was all like, "Well, I put up the Christmas lights, and washed out the crock pot.  It's only fair if you squeeze my feet."
And I was all like, "Fair is for sissies.  SQUEEZE."
And then my son was all like, "You guys are freaks, I'm going to watch TV in my room." 

stream of conciousness sunday

So what do you know, I found this little meme thing about writing just what comes to mind for five minutes straight - no editing, or fixing or anything of that nature. Woo. This is going to be weird, because even though I typically purge my face off when writing on this blog, I usually go back and delete stupid stuff and fix errors and just in general, don't press publish til I am good and ready. So anyway, good luck with this potential craziness, or boring mess of bleh. I'm linking to Fadra. You can click on the link below if you want to check out other people's stuff.




 Five minutes. f.i.v.e. 5. fiver. Five whole minutes of writing whatever comes to mind. I think I saw something like this on another blog once, and I thought it looked interesting. I like trying new things. Well, not really, but I like trying to write new things. I'm not exactly sure if I can go ahead and really not edit or fix errors and stuff. LIke right there, before I fixed the word fix but it was only because it happened so fast, when I was typing I didn't even realize I did it. I fix without even realizing that I am fixing.
 Yup.  I am a fixer.


I have always known that about myself. For as long as I can remember I felt like I wanted to help people fix things that were wrong. I often ended up dating people who needed a little fixing... one guy I dated for a bit had a pretty rough childhood. I thought I could fix him. I definitely couldn't. It just got so exhausting trying all of the time. I mean, I know relationships all take work and I am not a giver-upper, but don't you think that a good relationship should have way less time of trying and way m,ore time of just being. Just being without all of the trying.



I just mentioned that I am not a giver-upper, but really, I am. I give up a lot actually, and I know it's because I hate to fail. I usually give up before I fail, but then really, I failed anyway, you know? THat is a bad thing, actually. And I am working on it.

 Hm. That there took me about 5 minutes and I am relieved that I am done. Now I will go back and cringe at all of the dumbness and mistakes. But oh well. This is what I do.

once a year

OMGiamsoexhausted.

I just had to have Thanksgiving leftovers because that is just what you do on the day after Thanksgiving, and whatever that ingredient is that's in the turkey that's supposed to make you fall asleep in the day is making me fall asleep.  Right now.  My eye is so ready to close it's not even funny.

It may also have something to do with the fact that my sister forced me to get up at the crack of my butt, like she does every year on this day. 

I blame Ali entirely. 

When my alarm went off at 3:20 am, I was already awake.  I love Black Friday.  I recognize that this makes me a freak.  But we do this every year, and we always have so much fun.  Thanksgiving Day, Ali and Ty go out and buy a bunch of newspapers so we can get all of the big sale fliers.  Then we sit around yapping, drinking coffee and flipping through everything to find the best deals.  We definitely have to have a plan of action.  A plan of action is key to having a good Black Friday experience.

So of course I shopped my face off.

After a few hours of crazy shopping, we met Jen and John at Denny's and had a nice greasy healthy breakfast, where I tried a new little thing called French Toast Puppies (which my BIL John referred to as sweater puppies of course) and they were so great.  They look like little donut holes and you dip them in syrup and oh...yum.  As is the tradition when we go out to eat together, we played credit credit card roulette for the tab, and unfortunately, Alex and I lost for the first time in the history of ever.  But we high fived anyway - we felt like losing credit card roulette on a $60 breakfast bill is way better than losing to a $1000 meat night restaurant bill.  That was a tough loss for John and Jen.  Then Steve and Mom decided to pay because Mom got a senior discount, so we just picked up the tip.  So our first loss ever proved to be only $17.  Which is pretty awesome for a breakfast of champions for 8 people. Then of course we headed back out for a little more madness. 

The good thing is that I barely went off list.  I pretty much got everything that I needed, and didn't miss out on one great deal that I wanted to get.

The bad thing is, I have a mortgage to pay.

But hey.  You only live once.  That's my philosophy.

Brooke reminded me not to forget her Pottery Barn Kids Cottage Bed ($1000).  I said I'd do my best.  Unfortunately, I did not make it to Pottery Barn Kids.

Darn it.

Give Thanks

"For flowers that bloom about our feet;

For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;

For song of bird, and hum of bee;

For all things fair we hear or see,

Father in heaven, we thank Thee!"

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

you can't unding a bell

I never once said that sentence out loud.  Doesn't it sound so Dr. Phil-ish?

I know, I know, it is supposed to be unRing.  "You can't unring a bell." But I was commenting on a blog post and the verify word thing was unding, and it slightly amused me.  Is that supposed to be pronounced unding with no inflection?  like the word "ending"

Or maybe, it is pronounced the way I perceived it, like un-DING.  Like un-dinging a bell.

Or maybe it is pronounced like UN-ding.  Like... undies? UNdies?

eh.  Who really cares anyway?  I am going to go eat a nice warm banana muffin. 

Speaking of banana muffins, I have the greatest recipe for banana muffins and I think I will post it on Black Friday after I shop my face off.  You can thank me then.

Hope you all have safe travels to where ever it is that you are celebrating Thanksgiving, and hope you all get to spend the day with people you love.

Close talkers make me very uncomfortable

I think I am warm and loving and engaged when I am in conversation.  But I just can't handle when someone gets in my personal space.  Close talkers make me very uncomfortable.

I mean, if I can see your uvula, you're too close to me.  If I can see your nose hairs, you are too close to me.  If I can see your ear wax, you are definitely too close to me.

What makes a person think that they can get all up in your mug and you'll be OK with that?  Seriously, isn't it uncomfortable for them too?

I have breath anxiety.  I am very concerned that if I have bad breath and someone is a close talker then they will walk away and think, she must have had a shit sandwich for lunch.  That's my nightmare.  That someone would think that I had a shit sandwich.

It's also my nightmare that someone with their own shit sandwich breath would be a close talker to me.  I can't take bad breath in my airspace.  It makes me gag a little.  Then I have to talk with my nose plugged from the inside.  You know, plugging your nose without actually touching your nose.  

Also, if someone is a close talker I feel like it's very hard to make lingering eye contact.  I find myself focusing on someone's teeth, or their earlobes or that tiny little scar under their eyebrow.  And if I am not making eye contact, maybe they are thinking that I am rude and not paying attention.  When in all actuality, I am just not digging the fact that I can feel their breath on my skin.

If we were in a club, and we were all off in a corner somewhere having a deep  conversation and it was really hard to hear, then that is an instance where being a close talker would be OK with me. I mean, you practically have to be mouth to ear to hear over the noise of a hopping club anyway.

Incidentally, I haven't been to a hopping club in a really long time.

Sometimes being right isn't all it's cracked up to be

Oh, I know, I know.  We all love to be right. 


Personally, I know the majority of the time that I am right.  I would say 98.927 % of the time is a good estimation.


But sometimes, being right isn't all its cracked up to be.  Isn't that a shocker?


I will give you a few examples of when I was not exactly happy or gloating over my right-ness.


That time when I told Megan and Brooke to quit ramming around or someone was going to get hurt.  Then about an eighth of a second later, Brooke got her finger slammed in Megan's bedroom door and she cried so hard her lips turned blue.  That wasn't exactly a good time for an I told you so.


That time when I told my husband that the basketball hoop thing was looking a little wobbly, and if it fell over it could be pretty dangerous.  Then later that windy night, it blew over and landed on his car and dented it up pretty good. So yeah.


That time when I warned Alex that he kicked way too hard to teach Brooke how to be a goalie, then she got a nice ball in the face.  That lesson ended pretty quick.


That time I warned Megan to tie her shoes before riding her bike!  You're going to fall!  I said.  And she assured me that she had it all under control.  Until her laces got caught in the chain and she ended up crying in the gravel.


That time when I told my husband if we didn't finish the ceiling in the basement now, we were never going to get to it and he assured me that it wouldn't happen that way.  Six years ago.


That time I told everyone it was stupid to get butter cream colored couches because there was no way I could keep them from getting stained up and grungy looking and wait... that was everyone telling me not to get the freaking couches...


Well then.  That actually could be the approximately 1% that I will admit that I was a little bit wrong.

yolanda vega is NOT my bff



This is Yolanda Vega.  Making someone else very happy.


Why can't I win the lottery??

I am positive I wouldn't be like one of those idiots people that win a couple million and then blow it all in a week.  I am positive I wouldn't go on one of those TLC shows where a bunch of old lottery winners claim that they wish they never won in the first place because it wrecked their lives.

YEAH RIGHT!

I'm not asking for a lot Yolanda.  I don't need a Powerball insane amount of money (although I wouldn't complain if you wanted me to have it), just a cool million or 5.  That's ALL I AM ASKING FOR YOLANDA VEGA.

Incidentally, how come my mother couldn't have thought of a name like Yolanda Vega?  If that were my name, I would say it in a Spanish accent all day long.  "I'm Yolanda Vega, and I'd like fries with that!"   "Hop in the car kids, Yolanda Vega is going to drive you to school!"  "Can you cash this check for me, Yolanda Vega?"  How much does a carton of milk cost for Yolanda Vega?"  "Sure, I'll have your kid over for a play date, because I'm Yolanda Vega!"   Everyone might hate my guts for having such a cool sounding name, but I wouldn't even mind.  By the way, you have to say it in a Spanish accent for it to sound as cool as it does.  Just so you're in the know.

Anyway, the other night, a couple of my friends were discussing the fact that winning a million dollars was like nothing anymore.  Because after taxes, it bumps you down to like 500 grand, and who is going to quit their job and buy an island for 500 grand??  You can barely buy a house anymore for that kind of money.

Although I would like to point out that I would never say no to 500 grand.  Trust me, I could find something to do with it.

In fact, I won $10 dollars in a scratch off the other day that my husband bought me and I was very excited.  It almost paid for our lunches. 

I'll take a free lunch any day.

cringeworthy

Yeah so I am usually home in the morning before my husband leaves for work.  Nine times out of ten, he has to wear a suit and tie.  Which means I have to check him before he goes to make sure his shirt matches his tie matches his suit.  And other things.

So one morning last week, I had to run a few errands after dropping the kids off to school, and since Alex has a cake job has no sense of what the word "on time" means, he of course wasn't dressed and ready when I left.  At 8:45.  In the morning.

ANYWAY, that meant I wasn't there to make sure he had his shit together.  And by shit together, I mean his zipper zippered.  Which he didn't.

So basically, he went to the gas station, got a soda inside, pumped some gas, drove to work at his leisure, parked in the parking garage, walked to his building, waited for the elevator, went up the elevator, walked into his firm, chit-chatted with everyone within earshot, tested out a few inappropriate jokes, made his way down the long hall past a bunch of secretaries, and sat at his desk in his office.

All while sporting an open fly.  

After getting up and going into the office of a female co-worker, talking over some business with her for a bit, then heading back to his desk to push papers, the co-worker decided to show him some mercy and fill him in on the fact that his barn door was open.

So I got the phone call.  The one where Alex was whispering furiously, "I told you not to leave without checking my fly!"

So of course I had to be sympathetic, and giggle at his expense.
Ahahahhahahahahha.

You have to admit, catching someone with an unzipped fly is pretty funny.

damn.

So this past weekend my friend Diane was the last of my grade school friends to turn forty.


My 40 yr old friends Patty and Diane - the birthday girl is on the right

Of course a celebration ensued, but in the midst of all of the wine drinking and appetizer eating and inappropriate (kid-free) chatter, I started thinking, damn.  This means that now we are all going to start turning 41.  Holly first, Valerie second, then me.  Double damn.

41 is old.  And time waits for no man.  Did I just make that up?

Lets all just take a moment of silence and think about how very effing old 41 actually is.

Yeah.  That wasn't pleasant, was it?

I remember when my mother was 41.  Yes, yes I do.  I was about 15 years old and I thought I would never have wrinkles.  And I thought I would never have a mom butt, and I was positive that I would be cool forever and I would never, ever have a few too many pounds sticking to my body like a guest who won't just get the freaking hint and leave already.

It's all good when you're fifteen.

Sometimes I wonder if I could go back to 15, what I would do differently.  You know, with the perspective of an older person.  I'm pretty sure I would change a few things.

I was definitely way too concerned with my boyfriend(s) at fifteen, I was way not concerned about grades and school.  I was busy trying to think of deviant ways to pull the wool over my parents eyes and just have fun.  But really, I am pretty sure that I didn't have nearly as much fun as I could have and should have had.

I was a little on the quiet, stand-offish side.  I didn't show up to too many parties, or have too many sleepovers and get-togethers with other girls.  That is one thing that I would change.  The fact that I didn't open myself up to maintaining those years of friendships with girls that I've known since I was five.

I really had a rough situation with someone who I just thought was the greatest, most awesomely cool person in the history of ever.  She was my best friend for years, and we spent every waking moment together.  The rough ending of it totally ruined all future close girl/friend relationships for me.  It sort of still affects me actually, twenty five years later, with allowing myself to let my guard down around (girl)friends and stuff.

Yeah.  I don't know where I am going with this windy post either.  Let's just recap and wrap up by saying that I am freaking old, shockingly bitter about a mean girl and pensively reflective about the past.  That's a couple of big words I just used there.

Even though I'm 40 I'm still cool like that.

Normal? I think not.

*Fair warning. This is kinda gross.  Like the reality of living with kids kind of gross.

I grew up in a household with three sisters.  There were no boys in the mix, and the way my sisters and I fought was pretty tame.  We weren't very physical at all - we pretty much screamed at each other and pulled hair.  Yeah, hair pulling and pinching was about as aggressive as it got.  However, if you've ever had a chunk of your hair pulled out of your head in a hair pulling standoff (I had a handful and she had a handful and neither of us were letting go), you might rather get a swift punch in the arm and be done with it.

Anyway, as my son has grown up some, he knows that physical fighting doesn't go over in our house, so he has come up with some creative ways to irritate his little sisters.  Typically, it involves verbal teasing, toothbrush hiding or surprise attacks - pretty innocuous stuff. 

So the other night after dinner, the kids and I were cleaning up the kitchen and clearing the table, and Alex went to put his hand on Megan, to like move her out of his way or something - innocent enough.  She immediately screeched and jumped out of his way, so I was like "What did he do?"  (poor guy gets blamed for a lot because he isn't as loud as the girls are when they are annoyed), and Megan was like "I don't want him to touch me!  He just had his hands down his pants!"  Ah yes, a typical boy.  I guess I've grown accustomed to the hands in the pants thing.  I pretty much don't even notice it anymore.

So anyway, as soon as Megan said that, I saw this evil little look cross over Alex's face and I knew exactly what it meant.  He had something on her.  He had a way to drive her crazy.  So he starts chasing her around the kitchen and she grabs me to hide behind me and I almost fall over trying to keep him from touching her with his private handling hand.  She is screaming and really, on the verge of tears with disgust, and he keeps trying to touch her and I am like "Enough!"  Meanwhile, Brooke is standing there all bewildered like, "WTF just happened here?"

So Alex stands there grinning while poor tortured Megan is still clinging to me with fear that as soon as she leaves the safety of my body he is going to touch her, so I make the HUGE yet innocent mistake of saying to Alex, "Well if I were you, I wouldn't even go there.  She could do the same thing to you but it would be way worse.  If you touch her with hands that were down your pants, you might as well be touching her with your arm because it's all just skin down there for boys."  In other words, it would be far more... let's just say "gross," if she touched him with a hand that was down her pants.

If you get my drift.

I kid you not, from behind me, Megan releases me then laughs this evil little laugh and starts jamming her hand down her pants while simultaneously chasing Alex, and Alex is so disgusted he runs up to his bedroom and slams the door and bars it with a chair.  He pretty much ran up the stairs faster than he has ever run.  Seriously.    

I immediately marched Megan into the bathroom to wash her hands and made a mental note to think before I speak.

Please someone chime in and tell me that my kids are normal.

PBK Christmas?

The other morning, my two little girlies were going through the Pottery Barn Kids and Teen catalogs and picking out what they wanted for new bedrooms. Megan made individual lists for herself and Brooke, and wrote everything out with description, page and price. That girl is definitely her Mother's daughter. I am a list lover. I find random lists that I have written in random notebooks all of the time.

Pottery Barn Teen Bed on Megan's Xmas list (Quite a bargain at $1,999.)

Pottery Barn Kids bed on Brooke's Xmas list (only $1,299!)

So I added Megan's list up and it came to a little over $4000. She's like, well, you can just get it for me for Christmas! And I'm like, that's more than I spend on our entire family! And she's like, fine - I'll just ask Santa.  (Kinda wondering when she'll figure out that Santa's budget pretty much mirrors ours) 

Great.


I told her not to get her hopes up.

THIRTY! thity! tHiRtY!

Day 30 - A Photo. *for steph

I can't exactly tell you why I picked this photo -- just when I was looking through some albums, I loved those cow faces.  They look so soft I want to pet them. 

That's all.

TWENTY NINER!

29 - Wishes


Oh.My.Gosh.  That looks amazing.

Well, a few unrealistic wishes would be a lengthy vacation to Fiji, where I get to stay in a bungalow over the water for a long, long time.  That (besides getting an unexpected extra large sum of money) is probably one of my top selfish and unrealistic wishes.  Another is having a landscaper come and completey landscape my entire lot - like a magazine.  Then I would also like an entire re-do of 98% of my furniture - and while I am at it, a decorator could come in to set everything up in the best way possible.  Also, I would like to selfishly wish for a lake house.  In the mountains.  Yeah.  That would be awesome.

For more on some of my unrealistic wishes, you can go here!

As far as (hopefully) realistic wishes, I will always wish for the health, happiness and safety of my family.

So anyway, tomorrow is a big day!!!  Tomorrow I will have completed this little challenge!  Yeehaw!  Be sure to tune in for all of the excitement to come...



Y'all

I kind of wish I could say "y'all" in conversation and sound convincing.  I mean, it sounds so cute coming out of someone's mouth, you know?

But if I ran into a couple of friends in the local grocery store and just said something like, "So what are y'all doing tonight?"  I'd have to say it with a southern twang or something because you just have to, and I know it would totally sound ridiculous in the cold section of the Grand Union.  Or any section for that matter.  Coming from a real live New Yorker who isn't wearing a cowboy hat, it just would not be authentic.  I am positive.

(fyi, if you ever happen to google "girl in a cowboy hat," just be prepared to shield your kid's eyes.  Apparently, girls who wear cowboy hats also like to be naked.)

When I moved out to Colorado years back, I met a group of kids who totally picked up on my NY accent, like immediately.  So much for just quietly sliding in under the radar.  I obviously never knew I had any sort of accent, never really having been too far from home.  Their accent to me was way more subtle and chill.  I actually really came to like the Western accent and sort of gradually blended in for a while there, softening up my own tone of voice some.

Where a New Yorker would pronounce the words "ball and talk" as "bawl and tawk," someone from CO would pronounce them as "bahl and tahk."  I think it was pretty glaring when I first moved there.  Funny memories of sitting at this place, conveniently called NY Pizza Boys (nothing like a NY pizza, right?), and my new friends totally teasing me about my heavy accent and imagining that all of NY was the "city."  I think  a lot of mid-westerners think that way actually.

City New Yorker's definitely have a heavier accent than us upstate folks.  And we totally live among farms and lakes and mountains and rivers - no skyscrapers or smog or lights and noise all night upstate.

You know, I without a doubt can go far, far off topic when I just free write.  That didn't just occur to me, by the way.  This is definitely something that I am aware of but cannot help.  I am a long talker.  As long as I am not a close talker, I am OK with that.  (sorta)

Close talkers make me very uncomfortable.

30 Day Challenge - 27 and 28

Day 27 - Pets

We have no pets.  Not even a goldfish.  How sad is that??  I want a dog, but my boys have allergies.  Cats are completely out of the question.  Mostly because they are more allergic to cats than dogs, but also because they sort of freak me out.  I am strongly considering getting a Labradoodle.   





Day 28 - Something that stresses you out

Well, I would say that in general, I am not a very stressy person.  I really don't stress about too much, except maybe I stress over certain anxieties.  I hate feeling anxious.  It kind of embarrasses me.  I feel like it's a character flaw of mine and that is what stresses me about it. 

I am guessing that one of the things that does stress me out is not unlike a lot of other people's stresses - money.  I worry about how much it is going to cost to send my three younger kids to college. 

Whoa. Behind is an understatement.

I feel so behind! Not like a behind, thanks, but I feel behind in a lot of stuff.  Even my posting today is late.


We went away for a long weekend for a wedding, and boy - even though I am a little neurotic about leaving everything just so, whenever I get back I feel like overwhelmed with things that need to get done.  My calendar seriously looks ridiculous this week.  My blogroll is mad at me because I haven't read my favorites in days!  Days!

So today, we got off perfectly fine -- pretty early, but there was no exhausted stressy rush to the airport, which was so nice.  We connected in Chicago, which was weird because it was so off the beaten path, but I didn't mind because I have to say that O'Hare is by far one of the coolest airports ever if you are forced to hang for a bit.  So we're all ready to get our connecting flight, and the lady clicks on the loudspeaker thing and informs us that our flight crew is late.  The whole crew.  I hate when other people are late and it makes me late.  So of course, that made us late in getting home, which made us late in picking up the kids from school, which made me sad.  They were just happy to see us, so that was good.

And here I sit procrastinating about how much laundry needs to get done.  Instead I have chosen to post this lame excuse for a post in an attempt to avoid doing laundry.  And putting stuff away.  And going through all of the mail.

ps.  I had some seriously awesome crabs legs last night for dinner.  Oh yum.

2.6.

Day 26. Picture of your family

This is everyone August 2010, minus Dad and Wendy.  And the dogs, God forbid.

Day 25.

Day 25-Put your iPod on shuffle, first 10 songs.

Well.  This is quite an eclectic set.

AFTER THE STORM (Mumford and Sons)

SANTA FE (Rent Soundtrack)

DOGS (Damien Rice)

OMG (Usher)

CRASH INTO ME (Dave Matthews Band)

RIVER DEEP, MOUNTAIN HIGH (Tina Turner)

LONELY (Tom Waits)

FOREVER (Chris Brown)

DON'T LET GO (Sarah McLaughlin and Bryan Adams)

SIREN SONG (Bat For Lashes)

THREE LITTLE BIRDS (Bob Marley)

30 day what? twenty-four

Day 24 - Some things you've learned.

I have learned that it is hard to apologize, but it's worth it in the end.
 
I have learned that you can't always get what you want.

I have learned that family is almost everything.

I have learned that being on time shows respect.

I have learned that there is no room in my life for prejudice and bigotry.

I have learned that it is a hundred times easier to gain weight than to lose it.

I have learned that a smile goes a long way.

I have learned that dreams deserve to be followed.

I have learned that it's never too late to be somebody to someone.

I have learned that empathy is one of the most important virtues.

I have learned that watching my kids sleep instantly makes me feel peaceful.

I have learned that it's hard to take back what you have said in anger.

I have learned that you cannot change other people.

I have learned that it is OK to ask for help.

I have learned that it is OK to cry.

I have learned that some people just don't deserve a place in your life.

I have learned that nobody has it all figured out.

I have learned that the people that are the most judgemental tend to have a lot of skeletons in their closets.

I have learned that words are very powerful.

I have learned that the best gifts most often don't cost a thing.

I have learned that sometimes things taste better the second time you try them.

I have learned that the only person I can control is myself.

I have learned that love hurts sometimes.

I have learned that the truth hurts sometimes.

I have learned that living in the past can be dangerous.

I have learned that quitting to avoid failure is failing.

I have learned that money can't buy everything.

I have learned that being a mother is a privilege.

I have learned that you can't always fix someone.

I have learned that everyone is scared of something.

I have learned that a few minutes of your time can make a world of difference.

I have learned that kids deserve respect too.

I have learned that you will never be able to make everyone happy.

I have learned that it is my responsibility to teach my kids how to be good people.

I have learned that time passes, no matter how much you want to hold onto a moment.

I have learned that a heartfelt apology often times does make it better.

I have learned that laughing makes you feel better.

I have learned that music really helps you remember moments in time.

I have learned that the truth is better than a lie.

I have learned that you can only have one childhood.

I have learned that sixth senses should be listened to.

I have learned that being kind doesn't take any time at all.

I have learned that you have to make peace with your past to truly enjoy the present.

I have learned that life is tough sometimes.

I have learned that things can always get better.

I have learned that comparing yourself to others is just self destructive.

I have learned that it only takes a moment to destroy a lifetime of trust.

I have learned that sometimes you have to forgive yourself.

I have learned that your children are the best mirrors.

I have learned that there is always another way of looking at things.

I have learned that you are responsible for your own happiness.

I have learned that to succeed, you have to sometimes fail.

I have learned that it is none of your business what other people think of you.

I have learned that truly, “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”

I could die.

I am going to a wedding out of town and I have to fly and I could die.

What if I die?

Now I have to sit here and write a fake will (someone in the family who is an attorney and has a bunch of kids hasn't exactly done that yet but I won't mention any names).  I have to write the fake will in case I die a fiery death and my kids are left orphaned.  Because they are staying home.  Not alone of course.  But with family.

I hate writing a fake will.  I hate writing out what everyone should do if I die.  Besides taking care of my kids, I have to figure out who chooses what I wear for my coffin.  I have to figure out my death outfit.

My death outfit is dumb.  I hate my death outfit.

I wonder if Alex and I die a fiery death together if they could put us in the same coffin.  Do you think that they make double coffins?  I might google that because really, I know for a fact Alex would be lonely in his coffin because he hates to be alone.  We could be all snuggled up in there together forever and ever.  Even as bare skeletons we could hold hands.  It definitely makes sense to have a double coffin.  If they don't make them, I think I am going to invent one.  Don't steal my idea.

So really, I am scared whenever I fly.  Especially at the thought of leaving my kids.  It always makes me nervous, but I am looking forward to the wedding and to spending some time hanging out with my hon.

I will let you know if I make it home alive.

I get cranky when I'm hungry.

And I am hungry.  Good thing I am all by myself right now.


I hate when you turn into an adult and all of a sudden you can't just eat whatever you want.  If you eat peanut butter cups or cupcake batter or cookie dough or frosting you feel guilty.  I mean, who in their right mind would eat vanilla frosting for lunch?  Not me. 

However, I would never eat some of the things that I considered acceptable when I was younger.


Like greasy McDonald's fries or Mc Fish sandwiches (or whatever they are even called), or Dinty Moore Beef Stew or Steak-Ums.  Remember Steak-Ums?Gross.  Have you ever as a grown up, revisited some food you thought was so great when you were younger, and were appalled at how disgusting it actually was?

I have.

Back when I actually worked,  I forgot my lunch one day, and I ran to this corner store to grab something for lunch with the change that I dug up in my desk drawer.  All I had enough for was a can of that stew, and I was all like, oh I loved that when I was in high school!  So I bought it.

I could barely swallow one bite before I gagged.  It was all slippery and slimy and gross and I really wonder if it was the same when I thought I liked it way back when.  Yeah so anyway, I didn't eat lunch that day.

Bottom line guys, canned stew does not rock.

If I could have someone hand deliver a meal to me right this very minute, I think I would choose pancakes that are kind of doughy in the middle, with butter and syrup and that's it.  That's all I want.  It's not a lot to ask for.  I'll just wait here for someone to take pity on me and bring me some doughy pancakes.  That seems like the perfect thing to warm me up on this grey and rainy Thursday.

Waiting...

30 Day Challenge 20 - 23

More challenge consolidation.

Day 20 - Nicknames.

Well, I am definitely a nick-namer.  I used to be a name shortener, but now I would definitely consider myself a nick-namer.  My poor kids.

My real adult name (no, not like porn star adult. like adult, adult.  got it?) is Jessica.  Growing up, I didn't really like the name Jessica.  It sounded too formal or something.  I was pretty much the only one in my whole school named Jessica til about 7th grade.  Most people called me Jessee.  Pretty much all of my family and old friends do still.  A very few people call me Jet.  A boy that I loved in high school called me Jess.  I liked that.  The friends that I have made as a grown up mostly call me Jessica.  It doesn't bug me anymore, I'm used to it.  My husband calls me Hon.  If he is annoyed with me, he calls me Jessee.  Seriously, that is hardly ever.

Because I am so not annoying.

I called my husband "Alex" this morning (I call him hon except when I am annoyed with him, and I was annoyed with him because he left the TV on in bed watching political coverage til freaking two something in the morning and I couldn't sleep good and I really need to sleep good), and he said, "Don't ever call me Alex again." 

Hahaha. 

I always get over whatever it is that bugs me when he says that.  It makes me laugh pretty much every time.

Day 21 - Picture of yourself.

Pictures of myself are pretty hard to come by, because I am usually the one taking the pictures.  And also because I hate having my picture taken.  It is one of my worst things.

So anyway, here is a picture of me with my sister taken on my cell phone.  I am the one in black.  Bleh.

Day 22 - Favorite city.

Gotta say New York.  Simple as that.  Empire State of Mind, you know!

I love that song.

Day 23 - Favorite vacation.

I do love the yearly family trek to the Outer Banks.  It never gets old.  We might be turning it into a two week type of vaca, which is so OK with me.  I could actually retire there.  If I worked that is.  I mean worked enough to get a retirement.  You know what I mean.  Right?

This past OBX vacation was two weeks, and Alex hardly used his cell phone the entire time.  In our whole marriage, the only other time that happened was when I washed it (on vacation), and he had to wait til we got home to get a new one.  That was so great.  He was not very happy though. 

In my defense, I don't clear pockets.  Some may consider that to be a fault.  But I am very up front about it, so I blame him 100%.  I'll just put that out there one more time for good measure.  I don't clear pockets.

You want to know what grosses me out?

Something that really grosses me out is long fingernails on guys.  I'm not sure why that is so skeevy and offensive to me actually, but I can't help but be disgusted by it.


I sort of give a pass to someone who plays the guitar, but... nah.  It's still disgusting.


Long fingernails in general are little germ havens.  No matter how much you wash your hands, germs are going to hang out there.  And you are inevitably going to touch your mouth or eye or something.


Why would a guy want long fingernails anyway is the question.

Unless he wants to dress up as a girl for Halloween and really, that's way too much effort when everyone knows he can just go into the drugstore and grab some Lee Press-On Nails.  Do they still make those things? 

Anyway.  Growing long fingernails solely for a more realistic Halloween costume is mighty commendable.  My BIL Ty grew his beard a little so he could shave an 80's mustache for his costume.  He was going as an 80's rocker who drinks beer.

T-Bone with his real 'stache (and fake hair)

My husband had to wear a fake mustache because facial hair is against the rules at his firm.

Isn't that weird?  Like facial hair would get you in trouble?  Also, he isn't allowed to wear black suits.  Only navy blue and brown.  I find that to be a really strange set of rules.  But whatever, they pretty much let him roll in at his leisure, so I don't complain. 

Somehow this topic went from gross fingernails, to facial hair to suits.  Like, who could tie those three miscellaneous things together but me?  Well.  I never did claim that my train of thought always goes in one direction.

30 Day Challenge 19

19.  Something that you miss.

I so miss my kids being little. 

I miss Kara toting around her "wippees."  She always had to have at least two on her at all times.  I miss hearing her baby voice, talking to herself and her toys.  I miss Kara playing the piano and singing around the house every day. 

I miss Alex wearing his big red boots everywhere.  I miss his love of his Winnie the Pooh pacifiers, and I miss watching him ride his little two-wheeler when he was a shorty little three-year-old.  I miss him pushing all of his trucks around the porch and dressing up in suits for pre-school.  

I miss Meg's hoarse little voice, and the way she couldn't say her s's.  I miss her twirling her curly hair into knots when she drank her bottle.  I miss Megan's little baby teeth and I miss watching her play so peacefully with her dollhouse by herself.

I miss Brookie's dependence on me, I miss looking in my rear view mirror and seeing her back there swinging her feet, sucking her finger.  I miss Brooke humming and whistling everything.  I miss rocking her to sleep.

In other words, I miss my babies. :(

Thank Cod it's Election Day

THANK COD it's Election Day!!

I am so tired of political literature and political commercials and political phone calls and political messages on my answering machine.  However, I did appreciate the personal phone call from both President Obama and Bill Clinton.  Did any of you guys get those calls?

I thought it impressive that both of them took the time out of their busy schedules to work the phones.  I saved the messages on my machine even.  My daughter was like, "Oh my gosh Mom!  The President called us!!  Wait til I tell Gracie!!"  Oh, I didn't burst her bubble, she was just too excited.

You know, I really value the way our country works, and I am so appreciative of the fact that we can vote without fear and we can elect people to represent our voices.

My problem is the fact that it seems the only way that the majority of these politicians feel that they can get ahead is by stepping all over their opponent, by bashing and bad-mouthing their opponent.  Like, why can't someone just try to win on their own merit?

I mean, don't tell me about what the other guy did -- tell me what you can do.  Tell me what you have done.  Tell me your views and opinions and thoughts.  I promise you that people will at least respect the guy who takes the high road, whether they agree with what the candidate stands for or not.

I hate politics, and it's funny, because my husband is an elected official, and has been for the last ten years.  Besides being involved locally in the Town, he represents our county and state as well.  We've hosted dinner parties for some of those big-wigs, attended and worked the rallies, my kids were in a commercial with Hillary.  My husband personally knows these senators and congressmen/women.  I really do my best to fade out of that whole scene.  It's so not my thing.  I actually make a terrible politician's wife.

I am surrounded by this stuff on a daily basis, so I definitely have a little bit of insider knowledge about how it all really works.  My husband told me that sadly, the truth is that smear campaigns are actually proven to work.  That slamming your opponent and twisting their words actually plants enough of a seed of doubt in people's minds to change their minds.

I think that stinks.  I refuse to be a part of that. 

Everyone knows that you will never be able to please the masses.  There will always be people who are unhappy with you for some reason or another.  But I say if you do right and do good by the majority of your constituents, your opponent won't have anything bad to say about you.  If you can't win clean, it's not a win in my book. 

30 Day Challenge 18

Eighteen: Something you regret.

I try really hard not to live with too many regrets.  I like to think that I am a genuine and good person, who doesn't ever set out to hurt or harm anyone.  I will always regret if I have inadvertently done that.   

But as far as real regrets go, there are definitely a few.  However, some are a little too personal to share with the whole wide world.  So, sorry but those regrets will be sticking with me. 

Some other less personal regrets include not putting more effort into school, not taking more time with writing in my kid's baby books and video taping them as babies, not spending enough time with my Nan before she died, not having a big and traditional wedding.  I also regret that I picked butter cream colored couches for my family room, didn't make sure there were enough closets in my downstairs when we built our house, and I definitely regret trying to dye my own hair that one time.  I also regret letting my sister steal my dog, some of the poor clothing choices I made that have been documented in  photos and eating far too much Halloween candy last night.

The hiding of the candy day

Well Halloween went off without a hitch.

Because it was Sunday, we were able to get going earlier, which of course helped us to get home earlier.

Brooke was ready to start Trick-or-Treating pretty much right after breakfast.  All day, we had to keep her occupied enough to sort of forget that it was "almost time."

As soon as I said the words, "Want to get your costume on now?" she bolted.  She was bouncing on my bed, so excited to get ready. 

For weeks and weeks before Halloween, all Brooke talked about was being...

a PIRATE.

She wanted to be a girl pirate, so I tracked down this costume that was from Gymboree a few years back and ordered it on eBay.  She couldn't wait for it to come in the mail, and when it finally arrived, she was beside herself, so happy.

Meg wanted to be...

a BUMBLEBEE.

I tried to warn her that it could be cold and it would be tough to bundle up and actually see her costume, but she was set on being a bee. 

She actually was able to bundle a bit underneath, til she got really cold and put on a coat.

Alex of course, wanted to go out with his friends.  There is no trick-or-treating with the parents anymore.  So a bunch of them met up at our house and headed out from there walking the town, filling their pillowcases with ridiculous amounts of candy and having fun. 

Can you tell that Alex is the hideous clown?

I stayed to hand out candy while Alex, Ali, Ty and the kids went through the development.  When we left to go into town, we put the bowl of candy on the porch, and hoped it would be empty when we got back.

It was.

There was no melting down when we got home.  The kids dumped their bags, Meg immediately removing anything too chocolatey (huh?!), Brooke organizing, and Alex counting.  

Everyone went to bed with their teeth brushed hard and their happy, candy-filled selves smiling.  They slept like little logs.  Which is my favorite.

Phew.  Now it's time to hide the candy from myself.




My nephew "Snookie" and some mulleted weirdo who kept trying to kiss me with his mustache all night

Hope you all had a Happy and safe Halloween!