The Valentine's cake is finally gone.
Now I just need to finish off the Girl Scout cookies.
These extra junk food treats certainly make giving up M&Ms a little easier.
I am surprised by the difficulty I'm having giving up the M&Ms. It's not that I am craving them. I'm not. It's that I am now so hungry all afternoon.
Just about every day for lunch I eat a sandwich, an apple, and one other fruit. I then eat M&Ms until I'm full. I don't eat anything else until dinner. Through Lent (and beyond is the plan) I'm not eating M&Ms or any other junk food with lunch. By the time the kids get out of school, I'm starving and have to eat a snack with them. I know this is much better healthwise, to eat a healthy snack mid-afternoon. I'm just surprised at how hungry I have been after this one change.
Perhaps it is just pointing out how many M&Ms I was actually eating.
Making one healthy choice so often leads to others.
I have actually had the urge to go for a run a few times in the last couple of weeks. On one particularly nice day (sunny and 40 degrees) I mentioned this to the children who happened to be standing next to me. Giant looked at me with a confused look on his face, then said, "Huh?" Buttercup just laughed.
I didn't say I wanted (or would be able) to run far. I probably wouldn't make it to the end of the driveway.
I can understand their reaction. Despite the fact I went to college on a track scholarship, I hate going out for a run. They have no recollection of me ever doing it. To them, Dad is the runner in the family. He's the one who does 5Ks with them. I am the one who stays with the little kids and cheers them on.
My core strength ain't what it used to be. I don't like that feeling. I need to do something. I really want to swim. That will be easiest on my joints, and I just love that feeling of gliding through water. Once Cuckoo goes to school, I will be in a pool. Until then, I want to do something else.
I mentioned it to Hubby last night. I knew he'd understand, seeing as how he has been unable to do any exercise since breaking his foot. The conversation went like this:
Me: I know you won't believe me, but I've had the urge to go for a run.
Hubby: You mean to the bathroom? I have to do that several times a day. It's called aging.
And then we laughed.
At least my abs get a workout from all of the laughing.
As with most things, this feeling will pass. Probably as soon as spring hits and we have hours and hours of yard/garden/animal work to do.
Hm, two days in a row with the contemplative posts.
Odd.
I do believe this ridiculously unending cold and windy weather is getting to me.
I'll do my best to make something funny happen today.
I will probably stop short of doing anything like purposely tripping a child on camera.
Probably.
Have a lovely day!
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom!
The question is always there. If complete strangers aren't voicing it, then it is in my own mind.
How can you possibly give each of the six children the attention, love, support, encouragement, discipline, and time that each deserves?
There are days when I am one "Mom!" away from a meltdown.
You know, something like this...multiplied by ten times a day...multiplied by six kids.
Thank you, Angela, for leading me to that video!
There are moments when I let the voices of doubt wiggle their way in and leave me completely unable to do anything but just get through. Thought leaves my head and pure emotion takes over. I get angry at the slightest things, but I don't stop to correct my mood. I don't have time. Before I can deal with the thing that set me off, something else has happened to tear me into another direction.
Usually, I can take things as they come and laugh about it. Sometimes, though, every once in a great while, I'm just not in the mood to be a good mom.
I started to get into that bad mood bad mom funk a few weeks ago. Lots of things have been going on, one fire after another that needs putting out. I swear, if one more person in my family breaks something, I am never letting another one of them play a sport again. (The tally since January 8 is now Hubby-broken foot, Giant-broken nose, Buttercup-broken finger, and Giant came home with a swollen and black and blue big toe after soccer on Sunday. We're keeping an eye on it.) Other things have been gong on that I just can't talk about, as it's not all about me. (You know if it was just me, it would be all over this blog in a hot second.)
Fortunately, I recognized the funk and had a three-day weekend to get those sour-puss voices of doubt out of my head.
In three short days, I
1. Nursed a sick Star. (Who is still sick and didn't go to school today.)
2. With Buttercup's help, got pounds and pounds and pounds of food cooked, bagged, and frozen for later use.
3. Played (and lost) lots of games of Scrabble and Rummy with Phoenix and Giant.
4. Went on a dinner date with Hubby. (We went to a new place, and holy deliciousness. I now think about the duck spring rolls every time I drive by the place.)
5. Went to Bloomington with Buttercup for a soccer practice/scrimmage in a huge, indoor IU facility.
6. Got 2 kids' eyes checked. (All good, for now.)
7. Played many rounds of The Sneaky Squirrel Game with the little boys.
8. Got Buttercup in for the haircut she's been dreaming of.
9. Went to Mass with the non-sick members of the family and got to actually pay attention and get some extra, much needed prayer time. (Hubby had the start of a migraine, so he stayed home with Star and Cuckoo.)
10. Went on a date with Phoenix to the antique mall. He's been wanting to go for a while, but there is no way I'm going with all six kids. We finally had a chance last night, so the two of us spent over two hours taking our time and perusing the entire place. We then went out for a pleasant dinner, where I didn't one time embarrass him by bringing up the subject of girls.
11. Got lots and lots of hugs and cuddles from all the kids.
I was able to kick the voices to the curb and get back on track. It's a good feeling.
And it's a feeling I can only have because I am not raising these children on my own.
While I was cooking, Hubby was playing plenty of games with the boys.
While I was in Bloomington, Hubby did a mess of laundry. (So much laundry that I didn't even get upset when he washed and dried my favorite, dry-clean only pants.)
While I was at the mall with Phoenix, Hubby made dinner and got the other kids to bed.
While he was home, Hubby kept the "Mom!" cries to a minimum.
To answer the question, I can't. I can't give them all the attention, love, support, encouragement, discipline, and time that they need.
I'm not supposed to.
When those doubts start creeping in, when I start to feel like I'm failing, I need to step back and name my problem.
My problem isn't too many needy children.
My problem isn't my inabilities and inadequacies.
My problem is my inflated ego, thinking that I am the only one influencing these children's lives.
My children are who they are, not just because of me, but because they have a wonderful father here on earth and a God in heaven who guides them and loves them better than I ever could.
Darn good thing.
Now, if only I could teach them to say, "Dad!" a little more often.
How can you possibly give each of the six children the attention, love, support, encouragement, discipline, and time that each deserves?
There are days when I am one "Mom!" away from a meltdown.
You know, something like this...multiplied by ten times a day...multiplied by six kids.
Thank you, Angela, for leading me to that video!
There are moments when I let the voices of doubt wiggle their way in and leave me completely unable to do anything but just get through. Thought leaves my head and pure emotion takes over. I get angry at the slightest things, but I don't stop to correct my mood. I don't have time. Before I can deal with the thing that set me off, something else has happened to tear me into another direction.
Usually, I can take things as they come and laugh about it. Sometimes, though, every once in a great while, I'm just not in the mood to be a good mom.
I started to get into that bad mood bad mom funk a few weeks ago. Lots of things have been going on, one fire after another that needs putting out. I swear, if one more person in my family breaks something, I am never letting another one of them play a sport again. (The tally since January 8 is now Hubby-broken foot, Giant-broken nose, Buttercup-broken finger, and Giant came home with a swollen and black and blue big toe after soccer on Sunday. We're keeping an eye on it.) Other things have been gong on that I just can't talk about, as it's not all about me. (You know if it was just me, it would be all over this blog in a hot second.)
Fortunately, I recognized the funk and had a three-day weekend to get those sour-puss voices of doubt out of my head.
In three short days, I
1. Nursed a sick Star. (Who is still sick and didn't go to school today.)
2. With Buttercup's help, got pounds and pounds and pounds of food cooked, bagged, and frozen for later use.
3. Played (and lost) lots of games of Scrabble and Rummy with Phoenix and Giant.
4. Went on a dinner date with Hubby. (We went to a new place, and holy deliciousness. I now think about the duck spring rolls every time I drive by the place.)
5. Went to Bloomington with Buttercup for a soccer practice/scrimmage in a huge, indoor IU facility.
6. Got 2 kids' eyes checked. (All good, for now.)
7. Played many rounds of The Sneaky Squirrel Game with the little boys.
8. Got Buttercup in for the haircut she's been dreaming of.
9. Went to Mass with the non-sick members of the family and got to actually pay attention and get some extra, much needed prayer time. (Hubby had the start of a migraine, so he stayed home with Star and Cuckoo.)
10. Went on a date with Phoenix to the antique mall. He's been wanting to go for a while, but there is no way I'm going with all six kids. We finally had a chance last night, so the two of us spent over two hours taking our time and perusing the entire place. We then went out for a pleasant dinner, where I didn't one time embarrass him by bringing up the subject of girls.
11. Got lots and lots of hugs and cuddles from all the kids.
I was able to kick the voices to the curb and get back on track. It's a good feeling.
And it's a feeling I can only have because I am not raising these children on my own.
While I was cooking, Hubby was playing plenty of games with the boys.
While I was in Bloomington, Hubby did a mess of laundry. (So much laundry that I didn't even get upset when he washed and dried my favorite, dry-clean only pants.)
While I was at the mall with Phoenix, Hubby made dinner and got the other kids to bed.
While he was home, Hubby kept the "Mom!" cries to a minimum.
To answer the question, I can't. I can't give them all the attention, love, support, encouragement, discipline, and time that they need.
I'm not supposed to.
When those doubts start creeping in, when I start to feel like I'm failing, I need to step back and name my problem.
My problem isn't too many needy children.
My problem isn't my inabilities and inadequacies.
My problem is my inflated ego, thinking that I am the only one influencing these children's lives.
My children are who they are, not just because of me, but because they have a wonderful father here on earth and a God in heaven who guides them and loves them better than I ever could.
Darn good thing.
Now, if only I could teach them to say, "Dad!" a little more often.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
Monday Listicles - Joy. No, Not the Dish Soap.
After Friday's list of things that frustrate me, it's probably a good thing that the Monday Listicle for today is something positive. We are to come up with 10 Tiny (or Secret) Things That Bring You Joy.
I talk too much, so I don't have any secrets about myself. (About others, plenty. But that info is in the vault. (Name that show!)) Guess we're going with just plain old tiny things that bring me joy.
Things like...
1. Seeing the first robin of the year. Robins are so much better at predicting the start of spring than that silly groundhog. Today, the first robin showed up in our yard. Praise Jesus, I will be warm again some day soon!
2. Speaking of the groundhog, it is bringing me so much joy that Turken cannot remember the word "groundhog". He keeps calling it Mole Day. When he sees the picture of the groundhog he colored in school, he calls it a mole. You may be saying, "Groundhog Day was weeks ago. Why does he keep talking about it?" Because I keep asking him about it. And I will keep asking him about it until he figures it out. Mole Day just cracks me up.
3. Clever, funny commercials. Lately, it is this one in particular:
4. Learning something new. Like how to put a video in a post. BAM!
5. Finding that my husband has made the bed while I was getting breakfast for the kids. Really, anyone making any bed without being asked brings me immeasurable joy.
6. Going on a walk around our yard without finding any dead animals or bones left over from a dead animal. Come spring, I will have quite the dilemma on my hands. Go outside to enjoy the beautiful weather, or stay inside and avoid all the carnage? Decisions, decisions.
7. A nice big bowl of Chocolate Moose Tracks ice cream. So. Much. Joy.
8. The wonderful aroma of a flower bed full of hyacinth.
It's why I take the kids to the zoo. The folks at the White River Gardens (next door to the zoo) always plant lots of hyacinth just for me.
9. When someone says, "Do you have ____?" and within seconds I actually do have ______. I love being organized, or at least tricking people into thinking I am organized.
10. Unexpectedly receiving a hug or a peck on the cheek from one of my kids. Makes my heart so very joyful.
You know I had to get one sappy one in there. I'd look like a terrible mom if I didn't even mention my kids in a list of things that bring me joy.
No school today, so off we go to get kids' eyes checked and hairs cut. I know how to bring my kids joy, for sure.
Have a lovely day!
I talk too much, so I don't have any secrets about myself. (About others, plenty. But that info is in the vault. (Name that show!)) Guess we're going with just plain old tiny things that bring me joy.
Things like...
1. Seeing the first robin of the year. Robins are so much better at predicting the start of spring than that silly groundhog. Today, the first robin showed up in our yard. Praise Jesus, I will be warm again some day soon!
2. Speaking of the groundhog, it is bringing me so much joy that Turken cannot remember the word "groundhog". He keeps calling it Mole Day. When he sees the picture of the groundhog he colored in school, he calls it a mole. You may be saying, "Groundhog Day was weeks ago. Why does he keep talking about it?" Because I keep asking him about it. And I will keep asking him about it until he figures it out. Mole Day just cracks me up.
3. Clever, funny commercials. Lately, it is this one in particular:
4. Learning something new. Like how to put a video in a post. BAM!
5. Finding that my husband has made the bed while I was getting breakfast for the kids. Really, anyone making any bed without being asked brings me immeasurable joy.
6. Going on a walk around our yard without finding any dead animals or bones left over from a dead animal. Come spring, I will have quite the dilemma on my hands. Go outside to enjoy the beautiful weather, or stay inside and avoid all the carnage? Decisions, decisions.
7. A nice big bowl of Chocolate Moose Tracks ice cream. So. Much. Joy.
8. The wonderful aroma of a flower bed full of hyacinth.
It's why I take the kids to the zoo. The folks at the White River Gardens (next door to the zoo) always plant lots of hyacinth just for me.
9. When someone says, "Do you have ____?" and within seconds I actually do have ______. I love being organized, or at least tricking people into thinking I am organized.
10. Unexpectedly receiving a hug or a peck on the cheek from one of my kids. Makes my heart so very joyful.
You know I had to get one sappy one in there. I'd look like a terrible mom if I didn't even mention my kids in a list of things that bring me joy.
No school today, so off we go to get kids' eyes checked and hairs cut. I know how to bring my kids joy, for sure.
Have a lovely day!
Friday, February 15, 2013
A Few Things To Get Off My Chest
Our sentence to finish this week is I get so frustrated when...
Oh, I got lots of those. We'll make our entire 7 Quick Takes into 7 Frustrations just from this week.
I get so frustrated when
...holidays can't just be simple holidays. They have to get blown way out of proportion, to the point that Valentine's Day becomes the Lazy Kid's Halloween. Just as much candy, but without the hassle of walking around the neighborhood and actually thanking the people handing out the candy.
...businesses use texting lingo in their marketing.
Dear business, let me put it in a way you will understand.
yr cYn leadz me 2 beleev ur itha laZ or 13. itha wa, Ill nvr let u tak fotos of my kin.
...businesses try to make us think we should be doing something that is in fact ridiculous. (see above sign) People are just recovering from the torture that is the Family Christmas Photo. Who do these people think they are, making us think that we aren't fulfilling some tradition by slacking of in the Valentine's Day photo?
...we get all the way to soccer practice before we remember the phone call yesterday telling us that today's soccer practice was canceled.
...the children leave for school, and then I have to go turn off every. single. light. in. the. house. Why, oh why, aren't children born with an innate reflex to conserve energy?
...children don't use the appropriate "Mom!" yell. There is the "This is an emergency" scream and there is a "Look how cool this is" holler. It doesn't make me happy when I am getting dressed in the morning and I hear one of the little boys screaming for me like it is a matter of life and death from five rooms away, and as the "MOM!!!" screams continue, I trip over my half-pulled up pants on my way to see who is so gravely injured, but when I get to the child, there is no injury. The moment Turken lays eyes on me, he holds up his cereal and says, "Look, two Cheerios are stuck together!"
...I find that I have hurt myself pretty badly but have no recollection of when or how I did it. When my grandpa was alive, I used to be astounded when I would find him with his finger half shaved off, blood all over his hand, and he had no idea how it happened. People, I have become my grandpa. I got in the van yesterday, and when I put my hands on the steering wheel, I saw this:
except worse. I had to clean up some of the blood before I could get my phone out of my purse to take a photo. I took a chunk out of my thumb and have absolutely no idea how. Or when.
Was that seven already? Huh. I feel like I just got started. I wonder if Jen could change this to 15 quick takes. This has been quite cathartic.
A bit about Valentine's Day:
You'll recall the day I slaughtered my husband and told you about the bathroom scale birthday gift. Hubby has been known to really mess up with the gift-giving.
As I was making dinner last night, Cuckoo came running into the kitchen to tell me Daddy was home and he brought something. I was a touch worried and asked Cuckoo, "Did he bring flowers?" I needed to prepare myself in case he did spend a fortune on flowers. I needed to get rid of the horrified "you don't know me at all" face.
Well, he did buy roses.
Men, if you are going to buy roses for your Valentine, make sure they are made of sugar and are adorning the most delicious chocolate fudge cake you can find.
The man has learned.
Have a lovely day!
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Oh Look, I'm Talking About My Children!
Every year I send Valentine's gifts (really, most holidays) to all of my nieces, nephews, and godchildren. It's not much, but simply a little token to keep me in their thoughts and in the spot of Best Aunt. Oh, and to remind them that I love them.
What do my own children get from me?
Zippo.
Zilch.
Nada.
Not a blasted thing.
My reasoning is they get to feel my love every single day of their lives. Aaaaaand, I don't like to bring extra trinkets into my house that we will then have to trip over/find a home for unless I have to.
Each year, I wonder when my kids will notice.
After 10 years, Phoenix finally did.
I'm still not getting them gifts today, but I did do a little something special to take away the sting.
I woke up early, and instead of just flinging a bagel or bowl of cereal at them this morning, I made special Valentine's Day pancakes.
Batter was the same, but with a whole lot of red food coloring added to it.
Once the gigantic pancakes were on the griddle, I added a heart made out of white chocolate chips.
Unfortunately, once flipped, the chips sunk into the pancakes and there was little trace of the heart. So, for the rest of the pancakes, I waited until after the flip to stick chips into the already cooked side.
Perfection.
The kids devoured them with much thanks and gratitude coming my way. It was a pleasant morning.
Until they actually had to get ready for school. Then the usual "I can't find..." and "Get out of the bathroom!" and "I need ___today!" chorus began.
I'm now going to switch topics on you. Still talking about kids, but no longer Valentine's Day. Still talking about the lack of love the children apparently get from me. The following is a conversation the little boys and I had on the way home from school the other day.
Turken: Why don't you ever talk to us except when we say, "Hey, Mom"?
Me: What? I talk to you all the time. Didn't I just start a conversation about your day at school?
Turken: No, in the car. You don't talk to us in the car except if we say "Hey, Mom".
Me: Perhaps it is because you are both constantly saying, "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" Maybe if you stopped saying, "Hey, Mom!" I'd be able to actually start a conversation.
30 second pause
Cuckoo: Hey, Christine!
The more kids I have, the earlier the smart alecky behavior begins.
Have a lovely Valentine's Day!
Update: After getting on someone else's case for not including recipes when discussing delicious food, she called me out for not having the pancake recipe in this post. So, here we go.
It was pulled right out of my Betty Crocker cookbook.
1 egg
1 cup all-purpose flour (white or wheat)
3/4 cup milk (I use skim)
1 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
3 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
I have also made buttermilk pancakes with this base. Simply replace the milk with 1 cup buttermilk, decrease baking powder to 1 tsp and beat in 1/2 tsp baking soda.
For my family, I have to triple or quadruple this recipe. I then use half white and half wheat flour. You know, to make them healthy.
Beat the egg with a fork, then add all other ingredients. Mix just until smooth.
With the number of people and tastes in my family, I don't add anything else to the batter in the bowl. If a child wants blueberry cakes, I add them once the cakes are on the griddle.
I use just a touch of butter to grease the griddle.
Enjoy!
What do my own children get from me?
Zippo.
Zilch.
Nada.
Not a blasted thing.
My reasoning is they get to feel my love every single day of their lives. Aaaaaand, I don't like to bring extra trinkets into my house that we will then have to trip over/find a home for unless I have to.
Each year, I wonder when my kids will notice.
After 10 years, Phoenix finally did.
I'm still not getting them gifts today, but I did do a little something special to take away the sting.
I woke up early, and instead of just flinging a bagel or bowl of cereal at them this morning, I made special Valentine's Day pancakes.
Batter was the same, but with a whole lot of red food coloring added to it.
Once the gigantic pancakes were on the griddle, I added a heart made out of white chocolate chips.
Unfortunately, once flipped, the chips sunk into the pancakes and there was little trace of the heart. So, for the rest of the pancakes, I waited until after the flip to stick chips into the already cooked side.
Perfection.
The kids devoured them with much thanks and gratitude coming my way. It was a pleasant morning.
Until they actually had to get ready for school. Then the usual "I can't find..." and "Get out of the bathroom!" and "I need ___today!" chorus began.
I'm now going to switch topics on you. Still talking about kids, but no longer Valentine's Day. Still talking about the lack of love the children apparently get from me. The following is a conversation the little boys and I had on the way home from school the other day.
Turken: Why don't you ever talk to us except when we say, "Hey, Mom"?
Me: What? I talk to you all the time. Didn't I just start a conversation about your day at school?
Turken: No, in the car. You don't talk to us in the car except if we say "Hey, Mom".
Me: Perhaps it is because you are both constantly saying, "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" "Hey, Mom!" Maybe if you stopped saying, "Hey, Mom!" I'd be able to actually start a conversation.
30 second pause
Cuckoo: Hey, Christine!
The more kids I have, the earlier the smart alecky behavior begins.
Have a lovely Valentine's Day!
Update: After getting on someone else's case for not including recipes when discussing delicious food, she called me out for not having the pancake recipe in this post. So, here we go.
It was pulled right out of my Betty Crocker cookbook.
1 egg
1 cup all-purpose flour (white or wheat)
3/4 cup milk (I use skim)
1 Tbsp sugar
2 Tbsp vegetable oil
3 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
I have also made buttermilk pancakes with this base. Simply replace the milk with 1 cup buttermilk, decrease baking powder to 1 tsp and beat in 1/2 tsp baking soda.
For my family, I have to triple or quadruple this recipe. I then use half white and half wheat flour. You know, to make them healthy.
Beat the egg with a fork, then add all other ingredients. Mix just until smooth.
With the number of people and tastes in my family, I don't add anything else to the batter in the bowl. If a child wants blueberry cakes, I add them once the cakes are on the griddle.
I use just a touch of butter to grease the griddle.
Enjoy!
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
I'm Thinking Bill Cosby Wouldn't Approve
I logged onto Facebook, expecting to see nothing more than the usual posts from the one person who posts at least 8 Scentsy ads each day. (I only have 12 friends. My kids make fun of me mercilessly, but I like to keep things simple. And drama free.) Imagine my surprise when I saw...
My 88 year old grandmother doing a Jell-O shot.
My grandma doesn't own a single product invented after 1973, let alone a computer, so I knew she wasn't the one who posted it.
Nope, it was my dad. Her son.
This is the woman who told me over and over again throughout the years that she limits herself to one beer a day. With all the stress my dad and uncle caused her in their growing up years, if she didn't limit herself to one beer, she would have become an alcoholic long ago.
This is the woman who, when I was 18, would always ask me if I would split a beer with her. She didn't want to blow her whole beer in one sitting.
The woman was doing Jell-O shots. In the gym of my old high school.
I called her immediately to get the whole story.
And so it goes...
She was at my alma mater's fundraiser with her brother, sisters, cousin, my dad, and my stepmom.
She had one glass of wine, which wasn't very good.
She kept seeing people walk by with Jell-O, so she asked one person where he got it.
She's a sucker for Jell-O. When we would go to her house, there was almost always Jell-O in the fridge. In individual sundae glasses no less. As she pulled them out of the fridge, she'd add a dollop of Cool Whip. Of course.
I'm not surprised that she was eyeing the Jell-O.
I am surprised that she chose to imbibe after she found out there was vodka in it.
Her closing words on the subject were, "Good thing it was later in the night and I had already had the wine. They were good. I would have had more."
(If you want to see her photo and read what I wrote about her two years ago, go here. She is one awesome lady.)
Have a lovely day!
My 88 year old grandmother doing a Jell-O shot.
My grandma doesn't own a single product invented after 1973, let alone a computer, so I knew she wasn't the one who posted it.
Nope, it was my dad. Her son.
This is the woman who told me over and over again throughout the years that she limits herself to one beer a day. With all the stress my dad and uncle caused her in their growing up years, if she didn't limit herself to one beer, she would have become an alcoholic long ago.
This is the woman who, when I was 18, would always ask me if I would split a beer with her. She didn't want to blow her whole beer in one sitting.
The woman was doing Jell-O shots. In the gym of my old high school.
I called her immediately to get the whole story.
And so it goes...
She was at my alma mater's fundraiser with her brother, sisters, cousin, my dad, and my stepmom.
She had one glass of wine, which wasn't very good.
She kept seeing people walk by with Jell-O, so she asked one person where he got it.
She's a sucker for Jell-O. When we would go to her house, there was almost always Jell-O in the fridge. In individual sundae glasses no less. As she pulled them out of the fridge, she'd add a dollop of Cool Whip. Of course.
I'm not surprised that she was eyeing the Jell-O.
I am surprised that she chose to imbibe after she found out there was vodka in it.
Her closing words on the subject were, "Good thing it was later in the night and I had already had the wine. They were good. I would have had more."
(If you want to see her photo and read what I wrote about her two years ago, go here. She is one awesome lady.)
Have a lovely day!
Monday, February 11, 2013
Monday Listicles - Is It the Thought That Counts?
Gotta tell ya, I didn't think there were worse things than political ads before an election. But there are. (Every kiss begins with) Kay and (He went to) Jared commercials before Valentine's Day are just gag me with a spoon bad.
Gag me. With a spoon. A spoon, I tell ya.
Fortunately, we have a wicked fun Monday Listicle this week to take our minds off of them.
Ten OH, NO YOU DIDN'T gifts
The first five will be gifts that, thankfully, Hubby has avoided. (Mostly because he learned from the mistakes of my relatives.) The second five are things actually done by my dear, dear husband. By the end, you will be shocked that I am still married to him.
10. The expensive, predictable gift. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Don't buy roses on Valentine's Day. Just don't do it. Roses in June are lovely. Roses on Feb. 14, when they cost 5 times their normal price, irritate me. And it's not even original.
9. Stuffed animals. Once a girl passes the age of 5, just don't do it. Hubby has not made this mistake, but my dad did. When I turned 10, he gave me a stuffed bear and a stuffed carrot. Kid you not.
The smile in this photo is completely fake. I am and always have been a polite people pleaser, so I smiled for the camera. (OK, after this post you may not believe my polite people pleaser claim, but it's normally true.)
I do not want stuffed animals. I am not a kid. Stuffed animals are not cute. Even if there is a diamond necklace around that stuffed animal's neck, don't give me a stuffed animal. Put the necklace in the box.
8. Coupons. You know, those handmade ones that say things like "I'll do the dishes" or "a foot massage". It's cute when my kids give them to me, especially when they say things like "peace and quiet from me for one hour". Regardless of who gives them, I'm never going to redeem them. It's really a non-gift.
I'm just saying, you darn well be doing dishes and giving foot massages without me having to cash in a coupon to make you do it.
7. Clothes with animals or cartoon characters on them. This goes along with #7. When I was 17, my dad gave me a purple sweatshirt with a shiny cat on it. Came with matching shiny cat earrings, too. I am not a child. My bosom may be small, but cute cuddly kittens do not belong on it. (A note to the three men who read this: Even if your wife/girlfriend would like a shirt like that, don't get it. Save her from herself.)
6. A Chia pet. My youngest brother gave me one once, because he buys things he really wants for himself, then gives them to people. Usually with the statement, "If you don't want it, I'll take it." He's a bit immature that way. Even the funny Chia pets that look like people with an afro should not be given. (Unless you are at a party in which gag gifts are exchanged. Then it is completely acceptable.)
Really, I'm not wanting any sort of plant. I will forget to water it until it is drooping from dehydration. So I water it and watch it come back to life. And then I don't water it. It starts to droop. Eventually I will get very tired of this plant dance we have going on and just toss it into the compost. No need to do that to either me or the harmless, innocent plant.
Do I sound a touch ungrateful yet? Just wait. It's time for the gifts my husband has actually given.
Before I throw him under the proverbial bus, I must show you how good he can be. The potential he has failed to live up to.
Too bad for him, the first gift my husband ever bought for me set the bar way too high. We were 16 years old. He went to three different jewelry stores in town to find a necklace that matched my eyes. He finally found the one he wanted; a gorgeous blue topaz pendant on a gold chain. Undeterred by the fact that it cost more money than he had, he went to the salesperson. My dear boyfriend emptied his (Velcro) wallet onto the counter, told the man that this was every dime he had, and could he please have that necklace. The salesperson took pity on him and let him have it.
Tear jerker, I know.
Now that you adore my husband, I can get to the list.
5. One year he mistakenly put off his Christmas shopping. At 8:00 on Christmas Eve he went to Meijer (What do you get when you cross a Wal-Mart and a Target? Meijer.) and purchased all of my gifts and stocking items. I got a Farmer's Almanac for Christmas. Clearly he forgot that I'm not a real farmer, but simply play one on TV.
4. One year, when we had four young, young children, he got me/us a package of dance lessons. He had the beginning of a good thought, seeing as how we had taken dance lessons before we had kids (as in, I was very pregnant with Phoenix) and had lots of fun. The only problem was, he didn't think farther. Who, I ask, was going to get a sitter lined up for each and every dance lesson? Who, I ask, was going to get the kids fed and all ready for that babysitter? That would be me. It was just such a pain in the neck to actually get to the lessons, so we only used three of the seven allotted to us. (Fortunately, he used this experience to learn something. The next time he got me lessons, it was for a photography/darkroom class I got to attend all on my own while he stayed home with the kids.)
3. For my 30th birthday, he gave me what woulda, coulda been the perfect gift; plane tickets to NYC with the sole purpose of seeing as many Broadway shows as we could fit into three days. Awesome idea. Except we had children. Children aged 2,1, and 5 months. Children I had never left before except when I was in the hospital to deliver one of them.
While Hubby did think far enough ahead to schedule a person to watch the kids, it was his mother. After her stints at watching them while I was in the hospital delivering babies, I was not exactly confident that she would be able to handle the three of them herself. We'll leave it at that.
While his choice in sitter for my first time away was difficult enough for me, there was one bigger problem. I WAS STILL EXCLUSIVELY NURSING THE BABY! Star had never set lips on a bottle when I got this wonderful gift. He was still nursing twice at night. The gift meant I had to wean him. He did not want to be weaned. We'll leave it at that.
While we did go on that trip, he was told in no uncertain terms to never, ever do that to me again.
2. If you are a long-time reader, you might remember the compost bucket we had in our old kitchen. The Meijer gallon ice cream bucket. It was nasty, but it worked. And it could be replaced each time we finished a gallon of ice cream.
Well, one year Hubby thought I might want a nicer compost bucket. One Christmas, he gave me a lovely ceramic one. Two problems.
One, we had an ugly kitchen that was falling down around us. The Meijer bucket really fit the decor much better.
More importantly, (two) it was ceramic. A child is in charge of taking the compost out to the compost pile. It was only a matter of time before that child dropped the ceramic on the concrete walkway.
Each day at chore time, I was a nervous wreck. As the child headed out the door, I would remind him, "Be careful! That is fragile!" (Always pronounced fra-gee-lay, thanks to A Christmas Story) and then I would pray that he made it back safely.
I only had to go through that daily torture for 3 weeks before the child came in crying and upset that he had dropped the ceramic compost bucket. It was no longer a bucket but a hundred ceramic pieces on the walkway.
1. This last gift is so, so bad that I really should have just given it all ten slots and called it a day. At least then I wouldn't sound like such an ungrateful heel.
The worst gift ever given to a wife by a husband...
After gaining 45 pounds during pregnancy, I delivered Phoenix in September, then celebrated my birthday in November. For that birthday he gave me...
wait for it...
a bathroom scale.
He thought I would want to see how much weight I had lost since giving birth.
Too soon. My dear, delusional husband. Too. (Still fat.) Soon.
Go forth and have a lovely day!
Gag me. With a spoon. A spoon, I tell ya.
Fortunately, we have a wicked fun Monday Listicle this week to take our minds off of them.
Ten OH, NO YOU DIDN'T gifts
The first five will be gifts that, thankfully, Hubby has avoided. (Mostly because he learned from the mistakes of my relatives.) The second five are things actually done by my dear, dear husband. By the end, you will be shocked that I am still married to him.
10. The expensive, predictable gift. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Don't buy roses on Valentine's Day. Just don't do it. Roses in June are lovely. Roses on Feb. 14, when they cost 5 times their normal price, irritate me. And it's not even original.
9. Stuffed animals. Once a girl passes the age of 5, just don't do it. Hubby has not made this mistake, but my dad did. When I turned 10, he gave me a stuffed bear and a stuffed carrot. Kid you not.
The smile in this photo is completely fake. I am and always have been a polite people pleaser, so I smiled for the camera. (OK, after this post you may not believe my polite people pleaser claim, but it's normally true.)
I do not want stuffed animals. I am not a kid. Stuffed animals are not cute. Even if there is a diamond necklace around that stuffed animal's neck, don't give me a stuffed animal. Put the necklace in the box.
8. Coupons. You know, those handmade ones that say things like "I'll do the dishes" or "a foot massage". It's cute when my kids give them to me, especially when they say things like "peace and quiet from me for one hour". Regardless of who gives them, I'm never going to redeem them. It's really a non-gift.
I'm just saying, you darn well be doing dishes and giving foot massages without me having to cash in a coupon to make you do it.
7. Clothes with animals or cartoon characters on them. This goes along with #7. When I was 17, my dad gave me a purple sweatshirt with a shiny cat on it. Came with matching shiny cat earrings, too. I am not a child. My bosom may be small, but cute cuddly kittens do not belong on it. (A note to the three men who read this: Even if your wife/girlfriend would like a shirt like that, don't get it. Save her from herself.)
6. A Chia pet. My youngest brother gave me one once, because he buys things he really wants for himself, then gives them to people. Usually with the statement, "If you don't want it, I'll take it." He's a bit immature that way. Even the funny Chia pets that look like people with an afro should not be given. (Unless you are at a party in which gag gifts are exchanged. Then it is completely acceptable.)
Really, I'm not wanting any sort of plant. I will forget to water it until it is drooping from dehydration. So I water it and watch it come back to life. And then I don't water it. It starts to droop. Eventually I will get very tired of this plant dance we have going on and just toss it into the compost. No need to do that to either me or the harmless, innocent plant.
Do I sound a touch ungrateful yet? Just wait. It's time for the gifts my husband has actually given.
Before I throw him under the proverbial bus, I must show you how good he can be. The potential he has failed to live up to.
Too bad for him, the first gift my husband ever bought for me set the bar way too high. We were 16 years old. He went to three different jewelry stores in town to find a necklace that matched my eyes. He finally found the one he wanted; a gorgeous blue topaz pendant on a gold chain. Undeterred by the fact that it cost more money than he had, he went to the salesperson. My dear boyfriend emptied his (Velcro) wallet onto the counter, told the man that this was every dime he had, and could he please have that necklace. The salesperson took pity on him and let him have it.
Tear jerker, I know.
Now that you adore my husband, I can get to the list.
5. One year he mistakenly put off his Christmas shopping. At 8:00 on Christmas Eve he went to Meijer (What do you get when you cross a Wal-Mart and a Target? Meijer.) and purchased all of my gifts and stocking items. I got a Farmer's Almanac for Christmas. Clearly he forgot that I'm not a real farmer, but simply play one on TV.
4. One year, when we had four young, young children, he got me/us a package of dance lessons. He had the beginning of a good thought, seeing as how we had taken dance lessons before we had kids (as in, I was very pregnant with Phoenix) and had lots of fun. The only problem was, he didn't think farther. Who, I ask, was going to get a sitter lined up for each and every dance lesson? Who, I ask, was going to get the kids fed and all ready for that babysitter? That would be me. It was just such a pain in the neck to actually get to the lessons, so we only used three of the seven allotted to us. (Fortunately, he used this experience to learn something. The next time he got me lessons, it was for a photography/darkroom class I got to attend all on my own while he stayed home with the kids.)
3. For my 30th birthday, he gave me what woulda, coulda been the perfect gift; plane tickets to NYC with the sole purpose of seeing as many Broadway shows as we could fit into three days. Awesome idea. Except we had children. Children aged 2,1, and 5 months. Children I had never left before except when I was in the hospital to deliver one of them.
While Hubby did think far enough ahead to schedule a person to watch the kids, it was his mother. After her stints at watching them while I was in the hospital delivering babies, I was not exactly confident that she would be able to handle the three of them herself. We'll leave it at that.
While his choice in sitter for my first time away was difficult enough for me, there was one bigger problem. I WAS STILL EXCLUSIVELY NURSING THE BABY! Star had never set lips on a bottle when I got this wonderful gift. He was still nursing twice at night. The gift meant I had to wean him. He did not want to be weaned. We'll leave it at that.
While we did go on that trip, he was told in no uncertain terms to never, ever do that to me again.
2. If you are a long-time reader, you might remember the compost bucket we had in our old kitchen. The Meijer gallon ice cream bucket. It was nasty, but it worked. And it could be replaced each time we finished a gallon of ice cream.
Well, one year Hubby thought I might want a nicer compost bucket. One Christmas, he gave me a lovely ceramic one. Two problems.
One, we had an ugly kitchen that was falling down around us. The Meijer bucket really fit the decor much better.
More importantly, (two) it was ceramic. A child is in charge of taking the compost out to the compost pile. It was only a matter of time before that child dropped the ceramic on the concrete walkway.
Each day at chore time, I was a nervous wreck. As the child headed out the door, I would remind him, "Be careful! That is fragile!" (Always pronounced fra-gee-lay, thanks to A Christmas Story) and then I would pray that he made it back safely.
I only had to go through that daily torture for 3 weeks before the child came in crying and upset that he had dropped the ceramic compost bucket. It was no longer a bucket but a hundred ceramic pieces on the walkway.
1. This last gift is so, so bad that I really should have just given it all ten slots and called it a day. At least then I wouldn't sound like such an ungrateful heel.
The worst gift ever given to a wife by a husband...
After gaining 45 pounds during pregnancy, I delivered Phoenix in September, then celebrated my birthday in November. For that birthday he gave me...
wait for it...
a bathroom scale.
He thought I would want to see how much weight I had lost since giving birth.
Too soon. My dear, delusional husband. Too. (Still fat.) Soon.
Go forth and have a lovely day!
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