Alright, my blog has been compromised. Son #1 has found it! I knew it was only a matter of time and now he'll spill the beans to the other 5. Not that they're not aware that there is one, they just don't know where it is .... yet. Oh well, it is what it is -- more ammo for his book. :)
So last night was the first gig of the "band". They played at the Open Mic Night at our church and they actually did a pretty good job. It was an original song (very original). The only down side was that 2 of the 3 band mates really wanted to play "Back in Black" and the 3rd one insisted that the church event was not the proper setting (this "discussion" was on stage, in front of the audience). Guess who the 2 AC/DC fans were? Yep, my sons. I was SO proud to be sitting in the audience and trying to unobtrusively say "NO!". AC/DC at church - I may get fired!
On the home front - there's good news & bad news: the good news is that we have a new, quiet dishwasher! The bad news? Evidently the whole earth has been searched and scoured and no one can find a handle for my microwave. No one, no where.
Fortunately our wonderful guest this weekend, Dave, is Mr. Fixer. So he worked some magic with a screw, a rubber band and some Gorilla glue and bam! We have a handle. I should take bets on how long it will stay on with 3 teenage boys using it.
Thankfully Mr. Fixer is moving back to our town so maybe I can put him on retainer (unless my sister moves down here and takes the job!).
Well, a new week starts tomorrow -- anyone want to hazard a guess as to which appliance will be next to kick the bucket?
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Saturday, September 29, 2007
Music is in the ear of the beholder
Well the microwave still has no handle. Mr. "I'll be back" failed to tell me when he'd be back and I was too stunned at the 30 second visit to remember to ask. Oh well. The big pair of pliers (in the picture) does come in handy for prying the door open.
The dishwasher is still dead but we're supposed to get the new one today. Woot.
We have friends staying with us for the weekend so hopefully sons 1, 2 & 3 will be on their best behavior. Last night #2 & #3 practiced with their "band-mate" on the song they're playing tonight at "Open Mike Night" at our church. The best way to describe the song they were playing (and which they wrote) is this: picture one boy playing the drums all by himself, not any particular rhythm or anything, just playing; one boy playing a riff on a guitar and another boy playing something totally different. Now, picture them playing all of this at the same time. Yep. It was interesting. Open Mike night should be even more interesting.
I may wear a hat and dark glasses.
The dishwasher is still dead but we're supposed to get the new one today. Woot.
We have friends staying with us for the weekend so hopefully sons 1, 2 & 3 will be on their best behavior. Last night #2 & #3 practiced with their "band-mate" on the song they're playing tonight at "Open Mike Night" at our church. The best way to describe the song they were playing (and which they wrote) is this: picture one boy playing the drums all by himself, not any particular rhythm or anything, just playing; one boy playing a riff on a guitar and another boy playing something totally different. Now, picture them playing all of this at the same time. Yep. It was interesting. Open Mike night should be even more interesting.
I may wear a hat and dark glasses.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Ya gotta laugh
This is what I awoke to this morning:
Yes, this is a picture of our microwave. But look closer. Do you see a handle? Yes, you do. It's lying on the counter -- along with a screwdriver and assorted pairs of pliers.
Now, at 6:00 in the morning I am not at my most astute, but even I knew that something was amiss. I think I stared at it for about 5 minutes before my brain tuned into my eyes.
When son #3 came down I pointed to the counter and said, "Do you know anything about this?" He said, "Oh, yeah -- son #2 did it." "And did he attempt to fix it?", I asked, gesturing at the tools. "Yeah, we all tried to fix it." Hmmmm, I thought.
A bit later, son #2 came down.
Me: "Son #2, anything unusual happen last night while I was out?", pointing towards the microwave, where the handle used to be.
Son #2: "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I BARELY pulled on the handle and it just came off in my hand!"
Now this is a child who hasn't BARELY done anything since the day he was born (well, except study), but at 6:15 in the morning I was not about to get into a debate about that. Dear ol' dad was in NYC and I was out with friends last night. I must've passed the kitchen and collected my $200 on the way to my room when I got home.
So, another day, another repairman. This guy spent all of 60 seconds in my home. Walked in, looked at the handle-less door, pried said door open, wrote down the serial number and said,"I have to order the part. I'll be back.". I'm not really sure why they didn't just ask for the serial # when I called this morning and told them they'd have to order another handle. Guess they knew I was a woman and they'd have to send a man out to just make sure.
I'm kind of afraid to get up in the morning. Maybe we should have a repairman on retainer. I'm sure we could put his kids through college.
Yes, this is a picture of our microwave. But look closer. Do you see a handle? Yes, you do. It's lying on the counter -- along with a screwdriver and assorted pairs of pliers.
Now, at 6:00 in the morning I am not at my most astute, but even I knew that something was amiss. I think I stared at it for about 5 minutes before my brain tuned into my eyes.
When son #3 came down I pointed to the counter and said, "Do you know anything about this?" He said, "Oh, yeah -- son #2 did it." "And did he attempt to fix it?", I asked, gesturing at the tools. "Yeah, we all tried to fix it." Hmmmm, I thought.
A bit later, son #2 came down.
Me: "Son #2, anything unusual happen last night while I was out?", pointing towards the microwave, where the handle used to be.
Son #2: "Oh, yeah. Ummm, I BARELY pulled on the handle and it just came off in my hand!"
Now this is a child who hasn't BARELY done anything since the day he was born (well, except study), but at 6:15 in the morning I was not about to get into a debate about that. Dear ol' dad was in NYC and I was out with friends last night. I must've passed the kitchen and collected my $200 on the way to my room when I got home.
So, another day, another repairman. This guy spent all of 60 seconds in my home. Walked in, looked at the handle-less door, pried said door open, wrote down the serial number and said,"I have to order the part. I'll be back.". I'm not really sure why they didn't just ask for the serial # when I called this morning and told them they'd have to order another handle. Guess they knew I was a woman and they'd have to send a man out to just make sure.
I'm kind of afraid to get up in the morning. Maybe we should have a repairman on retainer. I'm sure we could put his kids through college.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
I'm losing my powers
So, I realize that as the years go by I'm totally slacking off in my role as a parent. OK, not totally, but certainly more than I did when the first three were growing up. Here's a picture from our birthday celebration last night:
This is son #2, pretending (key word here) to drink a shot. He was actually using a dessert glass filled with Dr. Pepper. The thing was --- he'd slam that baby back and then slam the glass down on the table, upside down. Instead of stopping him for acting like an idiot - I took a picture, thus encouraging him to act like an alcoholic (& I still don't know from whence he learned that!). Though dad & I did stop him after about the 3rd time. There are limits, you know!
Yep, my powers are slowly leaking out of my body. I'm not sure how, when or where, but they are. Oh, once in a while they'll come back with a vengeance and everyone in range will tremble at the thought of my wrath (yep, just the thought!). I've come to realize that as you become a more "experienced" parent, you get tired. So some things just fall by the wayside.
Tatoos and piercings, however, do NOT fall into this category. Don't test me on that one --- who knows how far-reaching the wrath of mom will be?!
This is son #2, pretending (key word here) to drink a shot. He was actually using a dessert glass filled with Dr. Pepper. The thing was --- he'd slam that baby back and then slam the glass down on the table, upside down. Instead of stopping him for acting like an idiot - I took a picture, thus encouraging him to act like an alcoholic (& I still don't know from whence he learned that!). Though dad & I did stop him after about the 3rd time. There are limits, you know!
Yep, my powers are slowly leaking out of my body. I'm not sure how, when or where, but they are. Oh, once in a while they'll come back with a vengeance and everyone in range will tremble at the thought of my wrath (yep, just the thought!). I've come to realize that as you become a more "experienced" parent, you get tired. So some things just fall by the wayside.
Tatoos and piercings, however, do NOT fall into this category. Don't test me on that one --- who knows how far-reaching the wrath of mom will be?!
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
You know you have too many kids when .... (or: You know you're a terrible mother when....)
OK, I admit it. I'm a horrible parent with too many kids. A really terrific mother (like June Cleaver) would NEVER let this happen to her! Heck, not even Carol Brady would let this happen and she was kind of dorky! Sunday at church I signed up for an event this week. It was an evening event. The date was on the board. The date had been on the board for about a month. My husband and I both saw the date and both agreed that we'd go to that event. Not one single time, nope, nary a nano second did it occur to me that the date of this event, Tuesday, Sept. 25th, was also the date of my baby's ----- dadGUMMIT---- my son's birthday. Go on --- keep gasping in shock. Look up the phone number for CPS (or DHS for my Okla readers). Report me. Cuff me. Send in a replacement. I lost too many braincells in childbirth. sigh Oh, and yes, it's true that dear old dad didn't add 2 & 2, either. But that's what dads do. NOT mothers!!!
But before you come to my front door carrying pitchforks and torches --- I didn't forget his birthday, just didn't put 2 & 2 together. I knew today was his birthday and had planned for it. But didn't pay enough attention at church to know that the 25th is his birthday. Alright, enough of that. Trying to explain this total brain meltdown only makes it worse. I give up. I am the worst mother on earth. I win. Where do I go to pick up my trophy?! (and more importantly, is the award show televised? Cuz I definitely need to go shop for that!)
On a brighter note: I can buy and then decorate an awesome cake! Isn't it amazing what you can accomplish when you're filled with guilt?!
But before you come to my front door carrying pitchforks and torches --- I didn't forget his birthday, just didn't put 2 & 2 together. I knew today was his birthday and had planned for it. But didn't pay enough attention at church to know that the 25th is his birthday. Alright, enough of that. Trying to explain this total brain meltdown only makes it worse. I give up. I am the worst mother on earth. I win. Where do I go to pick up my trophy?! (and more importantly, is the award show televised? Cuz I definitely need to go shop for that!)
On a brighter note: I can buy and then decorate an awesome cake! Isn't it amazing what you can accomplish when you're filled with guilt?!
Monday, September 24, 2007
Football games & open house
So today was a busy day (as opposed to all of my other days?). Tennis, work, rehearsal, middle school football game, high school open house. Somewhere in there I think I was supposed to eat.
So I experienced a strange phenomenon -- and it had nothing to do with my kids! (Now THAT'S strange!) Well, it was at son #3's football game, so it kind of involved him, but not really.
OK, I live in a fairly small community. We have 3 middle schools in our area (more a bit further away, but only 3 actually in my town). This football game was against one of the other 2. (I'm starting to realize that there's quite a bit of competition between these schools.) The middle school football games are held at the high school stadium. The stadium seats face east on one side and west on the other. At 5:00 p.m. the sun is starting to go behind the east-facing (home side) seats. Last week this is where I sat with all of the other parents. Today I got there about 20 minutes early, took a seat in the shade and watched my baby's------dang! ------ son's team warm up. Slowly my side started filling up.... with people who were wearing red shirts. My team does not wear red shirts. No problem, I thought. This is a rather large stadium and both sides' parents can sit here, in the shade. Seems logical, no? No! I looked across to the other side and there were a few parents from my team sitting over there. In the hot, glaring, horrifically sunny sun! (I feel compelled to add here that it was about 90 degrees at the time.)! "Gee," I thought, "why are they going all the way over there and sitting in the sun when it's so nice and shady and breezy here. Surely most of the parents will join me in the shade. I'm staying here." That was all well and good for about 15 minutes or so, right about the time the game was starting. There was not one single non-red-wearing soul sitting on my side. The other side was filling up! Unbelievable! Is our competition with each other so fierce that we can't sit in the shade together? I should have taken a stand, grabbed the microphone from the lady in the booth and yelled, "C'mom people!!! Can't we all be friends?! In the breezy shade?! PLEASE!". I should've done that. Should have been a light in my community, a beacon in this dark, competitive world. Should have. What did I do? I grudgingly grabbed my seat cushion and lumbered down the steps and around the track over to the HOT seats. I caved. I'm sure I was probably glowering, which would explain why I sat by myself (until my good friend Denise came to sit by me and watch my son play. Really. She just came to watch and support him. In the sun (I don't think she knew she'd be sitting in the sun, but she didn't leave when she found out!). What a buddy! Thanks, Denise!). I wanted to stand in front of these "hot seat people" and ask them if they were nuts! But I didn't. I caved when I should've made a point for peace ... well, ......and shade. sigh
And as for son #1's open house: his teachers are all great. Most have had our children before (hey, with six kids you're bound to hit the same teachers over and over!). They all seem to like him a lot. Even his criminal justice teacher. He likes him even though son #1 told him in class today, "This textbook has the wrong definition of 'federalism'". Then they discussed it and my son gave him the "correct" definition and where it's found and not found. For those of you who know son #1 pretty well this comes as no great shock. The shock is that this teacher still likes him! He told us that son #1 is VERY intelligent. I advised him to keep an eye on son #1 and not let him pull one over on him. That's just the kind of mom I am ..... always rooting for the underdog. :)
So I experienced a strange phenomenon -- and it had nothing to do with my kids! (Now THAT'S strange!) Well, it was at son #3's football game, so it kind of involved him, but not really.
OK, I live in a fairly small community. We have 3 middle schools in our area (more a bit further away, but only 3 actually in my town). This football game was against one of the other 2. (I'm starting to realize that there's quite a bit of competition between these schools.) The middle school football games are held at the high school stadium. The stadium seats face east on one side and west on the other. At 5:00 p.m. the sun is starting to go behind the east-facing (home side) seats. Last week this is where I sat with all of the other parents. Today I got there about 20 minutes early, took a seat in the shade and watched my baby's------dang! ------ son's team warm up. Slowly my side started filling up.... with people who were wearing red shirts. My team does not wear red shirts. No problem, I thought. This is a rather large stadium and both sides' parents can sit here, in the shade. Seems logical, no? No! I looked across to the other side and there were a few parents from my team sitting over there. In the hot, glaring, horrifically sunny sun! (I feel compelled to add here that it was about 90 degrees at the time.)! "Gee," I thought, "why are they going all the way over there and sitting in the sun when it's so nice and shady and breezy here. Surely most of the parents will join me in the shade. I'm staying here." That was all well and good for about 15 minutes or so, right about the time the game was starting. There was not one single non-red-wearing soul sitting on my side. The other side was filling up! Unbelievable! Is our competition with each other so fierce that we can't sit in the shade together? I should have taken a stand, grabbed the microphone from the lady in the booth and yelled, "C'mom people!!! Can't we all be friends?! In the breezy shade?! PLEASE!". I should've done that. Should have been a light in my community, a beacon in this dark, competitive world. Should have. What did I do? I grudgingly grabbed my seat cushion and lumbered down the steps and around the track over to the HOT seats. I caved. I'm sure I was probably glowering, which would explain why I sat by myself (until my good friend Denise came to sit by me and watch my son play. Really. She just came to watch and support him. In the sun (I don't think she knew she'd be sitting in the sun, but she didn't leave when she found out!). What a buddy! Thanks, Denise!). I wanted to stand in front of these "hot seat people" and ask them if they were nuts! But I didn't. I caved when I should've made a point for peace ... well, ......and shade. sigh
And as for son #1's open house: his teachers are all great. Most have had our children before (hey, with six kids you're bound to hit the same teachers over and over!). They all seem to like him a lot. Even his criminal justice teacher. He likes him even though son #1 told him in class today, "This textbook has the wrong definition of 'federalism'". Then they discussed it and my son gave him the "correct" definition and where it's found and not found. For those of you who know son #1 pretty well this comes as no great shock. The shock is that this teacher still likes him! He told us that son #1 is VERY intelligent. I advised him to keep an eye on son #1 and not let him pull one over on him. That's just the kind of mom I am ..... always rooting for the underdog. :)
Sunday, September 23, 2007
A surprise every day
The above picture is what I saw after church today. This is a picture of my stairs (looks a bit surreal). Notice the debris. Now picture a trail of this debris from the door into the house, through the hall, through the family room, into the kitchen, out of the kitchen and going up the stairs. Into a bedroom. And it's a pretty thick trail (the picture doesn't do it justice). I was the 2nd person (out of 5) out the door this morning so I wasn't sure if this is how my house looked when we left. Now, guess whose room this trail either came out of or went into. If you guessed son #1, #2 or #3 you'd be wrong. Yep, it was the 22 yr old female (who had to work today so did not go to church). I was bit flabbergasted at the audacity of this child of mine to leave the house without noticing the trail she had left! Then, as I was mumbling such things as "wait till she gets home" and "I am NOT cleaning this up!" I noticed that she had left a note. She totally blamed it on her new work shoes (?!) and said she was running late so couldn't clean it up and apologized. Well, I feel better knowing that she noticed it (was worried about the contact prescription for a moment) and that she groveled a bit, if only by note. I vacuumed the downstairs tile; she can have the stairs all to herself when she gets home. Never a dull moment.
Oh, and for those who are wondering about the "Great Sock Battle", this picture is for you.
You may think that son #1 didn't comprehend the directions here, which were pretty clear: Put your initial(s) on your socks.
Well, he thought this request was far, far beneath his dignity. So he forced himself to put a line along the toe seam of each sock. He sees it as a mark of the downtrodden, I see it as a little smiley face. :)
A smiley face that says, "I may not like obeying my mom, but I did it anyway." Every time I'll see his socks I'll have to smile.
Battle report #1: Mom has the upperhand, for now.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
I have a headache (and it's only 8:30 a.m.)
It's going to be a great day. I can tell already. A great brand-new day. With no rules that applied yesterday. With no rules that even applied last night, less than 12 hours ago. I may have an aneurysm.
I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and reading the paper. Minding my own business on a quiet, beautiful Saturday morning. Son #2 comes down the stairs. "Morning" I cheerily say. "mfblemsmr" he says back, not quite as cheerily. I keep reading.
Soon I'm engrossed in the Sudoku puzzle. I've almost got it nailed when one small portion of the back of my brain says, "What was that click?" The rest of my brain ignores this part and keeps working on the puzzle. The back portion screams a little bit louder, "Hey! That sound is pretty familiar and may indicate that all h--- is going to break loose if you don't pay attention!"
So the rest of the brain sluggishly kicks in and makes me look up from the puzzle. I listen. Yep, there's that clicking sound. The part of my brain that's feeling the coffee says, "Ummm, isn't that sound awfully similar to the click that the controls make on the washer?" NOW I'm fully attentive!
Me: "SON #2!!!!!"
#2: "Yeah?"
Me: What are you doing?!", as I head into the laundry room.
#2: Looking at me like I'm a moron, "Um, my laundry." I'm sure he would've added "duh" if he thought he'd lived afterward.
And yes, the washer is fully loaded, the detergent has been added and he's pushing the buttons.
Me: "I told you last night that you couldn't do your laundry!"
#2: "Well, I thought you meant I just couldn't do it last night."
Me: (add a bit of stress and exasperation here) "I told ALL of you not to do any laundry because the machine is broken!"
#2: "Oh." pause "Oh yeah, right."
I'm screaming inside my head now. Loudly. No wonder I have a headache.
I'm sitting here drinking my coffee and reading the paper. Minding my own business on a quiet, beautiful Saturday morning. Son #2 comes down the stairs. "Morning" I cheerily say. "mfblemsmr" he says back, not quite as cheerily. I keep reading.
Soon I'm engrossed in the Sudoku puzzle. I've almost got it nailed when one small portion of the back of my brain says, "What was that click?" The rest of my brain ignores this part and keeps working on the puzzle. The back portion screams a little bit louder, "Hey! That sound is pretty familiar and may indicate that all h--- is going to break loose if you don't pay attention!"
So the rest of the brain sluggishly kicks in and makes me look up from the puzzle. I listen. Yep, there's that clicking sound. The part of my brain that's feeling the coffee says, "Ummm, isn't that sound awfully similar to the click that the controls make on the washer?" NOW I'm fully attentive!
Me: "SON #2!!!!!"
#2: "Yeah?"
Me: What are you doing?!", as I head into the laundry room.
#2: Looking at me like I'm a moron, "Um, my laundry." I'm sure he would've added "duh" if he thought he'd lived afterward.
And yes, the washer is fully loaded, the detergent has been added and he's pushing the buttons.
Me: "I told you last night that you couldn't do your laundry!"
#2: "Well, I thought you meant I just couldn't do it last night."
Me: (add a bit of stress and exasperation here) "I told ALL of you not to do any laundry because the machine is broken!"
#2: "Oh." pause "Oh yeah, right."
I'm screaming inside my head now. Loudly. No wonder I have a headache.
Friday, September 21, 2007
God keeps me humble
So today was the MOPS meeting. It was great. There were 4 of us "experienced" moms, though one was quite a bit younger than I am. She has 4 young sons (ages 3 - 8). Another mom has an 11 yr old daughter and quad 9 yr olds. Yep -- quads. Four. Yikes. Actually, these women are friends of mine. I spent the first year of the quads' lives helping out with them once a week. My 3 yr old (at the time) and I. It was great to be able to help, but I have to admit that I felt hugely guilty that I got to leave after 4 hours and she (the mom) couldn't. And to make for more guilt - I was glad to able to leave! She's done a great job - they're still alive 9 years later!
The other mom has 3 teenagers - a daughter and twin sons. And then there was me. Actually it was a lot of fun. And we all had pretty much the same philosophy on discipline. The MOPS ladies asked some great questions and there was quite a bit of discussion. Moms could talk forever about discipline and what works and hasn't worked. I love supporting young moms. I have a passion for helping them know that they're doing a great job and that everything they're going through is normal.
I've always loved working at MOPS. They make me feel great. They value my opinion and listen when I talk. And they are grateful for any suggestions. Yep, I can't help but feel good after a morning at MOPS.
And then I come home. Teenagers (and sometimes adult kids) don't really care what my opinion is and rarely ask for it. Oh, but not to worry -- I manage to give it to them anyway. Every day. Guess I'm an optimist. Or maybe just stubborn.
Anyway, after my wonderful morning at MOPS I came home to meet the plumber. You see, my dishwasher has decided to refuse to drain. It's retaining water, so to speak. I spent a couple of hours Wed. night slowly draining it. Let me tell you, you don't know what FUN is until you've slowly drained water through a tiny hose into a cookie sheet (cuz it had to be as low as I could get it to drain out of the tube). The cookie sheet was on the floor. Ever picked up a cookie sheet full of water, from the floor to the sink? Yeah, not a whole lot of water actually hit the sink. It was SO MUCH FUN! Then son #2 filled it with dishes yesterday and ran it last night. It now has more undrained water in it and I'm not draining it!
So I called the plumber this morning and he met me after MOPS. He was here all of about 5 minutes. He hated to tell me (ha!) but it wasn't the plumbing. It was the dishwasher so I would need to call a repairman. And then he sadly left. Actually I think he was a wee bit sad. He couldn't charge me out the wazoo for fixing it. At least he was honest.
So I called a repairman who said he could get out sometime today. Note: the key word in that sentence is "some". While I was on the phone with the scheduler I walked into my laundry room to see what was making a high pitched, nails-on-chalkboard, screeching sound. It wasn't loud, just high. The neighborhood dogs were starting to get annoyed. Well, I'm not sure what was causing that sound, but evidently the water inside the washer didn't like it either, cuz it was fleeing the machine. Rapidly. Flowing down the side and all over the laundry room floor.
Kind of ironic, isn't it? The dishwasher can't get rid of its water and the washer can't keep its water. Go figure.
So now I have to call another repairman for the washer. Thankfully we have an extended warranty. He's coming out tomorrow.
So now I wait for repairman #1 (#2 if you count the sad little plumber). And wait. And wait. This all started around noon. At 4:45 I called the service. "Oh not to worry. He'll come. And he'll call when he's on his way.". Okey dokey.
Meanwhile, the kids have all come home and want to inspect the dishwasher and ask a ton of questions. Like, "What happened?" "Why is there water in the dishwasher?" "Why are the dishes sitting in the rack on the counter?" and the classic -- "What's for dinner?" That's the kid who could care less that the kitchen is in an upheaval - he just wants to make sure he eats. Gotta love the single-mindedness.
Then there's the kid who decided that THIS was the day he was going to haul down his laundry and do it! Thank goodness that I happened to look up and see him going into the laundry room so that I could squelch that plan. I know what he was thinking; "Oh yeah, you always nag me to do my laundry and when I decide to do it, you won't let me!!! What do you want from me???!" Or there abouts.
So where was I? Oh yeah -- waiting. And waiting. Around 6:00 or so the repairman calls. This was our conversation:
Repairman: "Uh, Mrs. txmomx6?"
Me: "Yes."
Repairman: "Um, I was calling to tell you that I'm on my way."
Me: O.K.
Repairman: (pause) "Um, well ... I'm way down on the other side of the city."
Me: O.K.
Repairman: (longer pause) "Um, well ... you know... um, I can't get there for a while cuz I'm all the way on the other side of town."
Me: "O.K."
Repairman: (an even longer pause) "Ummm, well, just so you know, I won't be gettin' there until around 7:00."
Me: "O.K."
Repairman: "Sigh. O.K."
Me: "O.K. Bye"
I'm going out on a limb here and taking a wild guess at what he really wanted to say: "Mrs. txmomx6, would you mind if I just went home for the evening? It's Friday and it's late and heck, I'm hungry." Too bad he didn't just say that and offer to come out tomorrow because I actually would've gone for that. But no way was I going to offer that and then end up paying double for a weekend call!!
So I decided to go ahead and fix dinner for the starving children (and by now, husband). I decided to go all out - brought out the frozen pizzas. Hey, it hits most of the major food groups.
Mr. Repairman got here at 7:00 on the nose. Looked at the dishwasher for all of, oh .. I'd say about 10 minutes (5 more than the depressed plumber) and declared it dead. Gone. Pushing up daises. Ka-put. He said that he could put all new innards in it for close to $400. I politely said "Thank you very much and have a great weekend." (HUGE SIGH)
After my lovely meal of pizza I hand washed all of the dishes: those in the dishwasher racks and those in the sink. What a fun way to spend a Friday night. Gotta love God -- between the kids who don't give 2 hoots about my opinion and my appliances that seem to care to work, He keeps me humble.
The other mom has 3 teenagers - a daughter and twin sons. And then there was me. Actually it was a lot of fun. And we all had pretty much the same philosophy on discipline. The MOPS ladies asked some great questions and there was quite a bit of discussion. Moms could talk forever about discipline and what works and hasn't worked. I love supporting young moms. I have a passion for helping them know that they're doing a great job and that everything they're going through is normal.
I've always loved working at MOPS. They make me feel great. They value my opinion and listen when I talk. And they are grateful for any suggestions. Yep, I can't help but feel good after a morning at MOPS.
And then I come home. Teenagers (and sometimes adult kids) don't really care what my opinion is and rarely ask for it. Oh, but not to worry -- I manage to give it to them anyway. Every day. Guess I'm an optimist. Or maybe just stubborn.
Anyway, after my wonderful morning at MOPS I came home to meet the plumber. You see, my dishwasher has decided to refuse to drain. It's retaining water, so to speak. I spent a couple of hours Wed. night slowly draining it. Let me tell you, you don't know what FUN is until you've slowly drained water through a tiny hose into a cookie sheet (cuz it had to be as low as I could get it to drain out of the tube). The cookie sheet was on the floor. Ever picked up a cookie sheet full of water, from the floor to the sink? Yeah, not a whole lot of water actually hit the sink. It was SO MUCH FUN! Then son #2 filled it with dishes yesterday and ran it last night. It now has more undrained water in it and I'm not draining it!
So I called the plumber this morning and he met me after MOPS. He was here all of about 5 minutes. He hated to tell me (ha!) but it wasn't the plumbing. It was the dishwasher so I would need to call a repairman. And then he sadly left. Actually I think he was a wee bit sad. He couldn't charge me out the wazoo for fixing it. At least he was honest.
So I called a repairman who said he could get out sometime today. Note: the key word in that sentence is "some". While I was on the phone with the scheduler I walked into my laundry room to see what was making a high pitched, nails-on-chalkboard, screeching sound. It wasn't loud, just high. The neighborhood dogs were starting to get annoyed. Well, I'm not sure what was causing that sound, but evidently the water inside the washer didn't like it either, cuz it was fleeing the machine. Rapidly. Flowing down the side and all over the laundry room floor.
Kind of ironic, isn't it? The dishwasher can't get rid of its water and the washer can't keep its water. Go figure.
So now I have to call another repairman for the washer. Thankfully we have an extended warranty. He's coming out tomorrow.
So now I wait for repairman #1 (#2 if you count the sad little plumber). And wait. And wait. This all started around noon. At 4:45 I called the service. "Oh not to worry. He'll come. And he'll call when he's on his way.". Okey dokey.
Meanwhile, the kids have all come home and want to inspect the dishwasher and ask a ton of questions. Like, "What happened?" "Why is there water in the dishwasher?" "Why are the dishes sitting in the rack on the counter?" and the classic -- "What's for dinner?" That's the kid who could care less that the kitchen is in an upheaval - he just wants to make sure he eats. Gotta love the single-mindedness.
Then there's the kid who decided that THIS was the day he was going to haul down his laundry and do it! Thank goodness that I happened to look up and see him going into the laundry room so that I could squelch that plan. I know what he was thinking; "Oh yeah, you always nag me to do my laundry and when I decide to do it, you won't let me!!! What do you want from me???!" Or there abouts.
So where was I? Oh yeah -- waiting. And waiting. Around 6:00 or so the repairman calls. This was our conversation:
Repairman: "Uh, Mrs. txmomx6?"
Me: "Yes."
Repairman: "Um, I was calling to tell you that I'm on my way."
Me: O.K.
Repairman: (pause) "Um, well ... I'm way down on the other side of the city."
Me: O.K.
Repairman: (longer pause) "Um, well ... you know... um, I can't get there for a while cuz I'm all the way on the other side of town."
Me: "O.K."
Repairman: (an even longer pause) "Ummm, well, just so you know, I won't be gettin' there until around 7:00."
Me: "O.K."
Repairman: "Sigh. O.K."
Me: "O.K. Bye"
I'm going out on a limb here and taking a wild guess at what he really wanted to say: "Mrs. txmomx6, would you mind if I just went home for the evening? It's Friday and it's late and heck, I'm hungry." Too bad he didn't just say that and offer to come out tomorrow because I actually would've gone for that. But no way was I going to offer that and then end up paying double for a weekend call!!
So I decided to go ahead and fix dinner for the starving children (and by now, husband). I decided to go all out - brought out the frozen pizzas. Hey, it hits most of the major food groups.
Mr. Repairman got here at 7:00 on the nose. Looked at the dishwasher for all of, oh .. I'd say about 10 minutes (5 more than the depressed plumber) and declared it dead. Gone. Pushing up daises. Ka-put. He said that he could put all new innards in it for close to $400. I politely said "Thank you very much and have a great weekend." (HUGE SIGH)
After my lovely meal of pizza I hand washed all of the dishes: those in the dishwasher racks and those in the sink. What a fun way to spend a Friday night. Gotta love God -- between the kids who don't give 2 hoots about my opinion and my appliances that seem to care to work, He keeps me humble.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Penny for my Opinion
So tomorrow I'm going to be on a panel of 3 "experienced"moms (another word for "mature" which just means I'm old) at a MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) meeting. I'm supposed to introduce myself (most of these women already know me) and give a short statement about my method of parenting. I think I have it memorized: "Hello. I'm txmomx6 (of course I'll use my actual name!) and ..... I'm mean." That's it. Totally. And I'm not being modest, or being too hard on myself. Just ask my kids. "Please tell us, children of txmomx6, how would you explain your mother's method of parenting?" "Her method? Well, we're not sure what the heck that would be, but she's mean." It's OK, really. I think once you get into your 40's, you come to grips with reality. And it's OK. So -- I'm mean. And proud. Maybe I should start a club, with a logo and a t-shirt -- "Mean mom -- & proud".
Anyway, after we introduce ourselves they'll open the floor for questions and we'll answer them, based on our method of parenting. I hope I'm not sitting next to some lovey-dovey, child-obsessed "helicopter" mom, cuz I may get even meaner. Or at least I'll look meaner sitting next to her. She'll gush about her children (or child, cuz that kind of parent usually has just one) and say that she hopes he/she lives with her forever. And then I'll have to give my opinion: "As I see it, God gave me these children to raise so that they'd get out of my house." There ya go. Parenting 101. Have them; love them; raise them; love them; teach them to be independent; love them; encourage them; love them; get them out. Ta-da! And then bide your time until you can totally spoil your grandchildren.
That's my opinion anyway.
And after the MOPS meeting I have to get some socks. A mother's work is never done. Sheesh.
P.S. Note to Mom: About the new car -- nothing terribly exciting; a Honda CRV. But it's roomier than the Mustang and I like it.
Got it this summer. And I don't like socks left in it.
Anyway, after we introduce ourselves they'll open the floor for questions and we'll answer them, based on our method of parenting. I hope I'm not sitting next to some lovey-dovey, child-obsessed "helicopter" mom, cuz I may get even meaner. Or at least I'll look meaner sitting next to her. She'll gush about her children (or child, cuz that kind of parent usually has just one) and say that she hopes he/she lives with her forever. And then I'll have to give my opinion: "As I see it, God gave me these children to raise so that they'd get out of my house." There ya go. Parenting 101. Have them; love them; raise them; love them; teach them to be independent; love them; encourage them; love them; get them out. Ta-da! And then bide your time until you can totally spoil your grandchildren.
That's my opinion anyway.
And after the MOPS meeting I have to get some socks. A mother's work is never done. Sheesh.
P.S. Note to Mom: About the new car -- nothing terribly exciting; a Honda CRV. But it's roomier than the Mustang and I like it.
Got it this summer. And I don't like socks left in it.
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
A dollar per sock
I wish more people read this blog (or least made comments!) so that I could get some ideas from them. Once again I'm at my wits end. Why, oh why, can some people in my home NOT keep their socks on their feet? This has been an issue since --- oh, maybe 1996 (give or take a year). I have 3 children (not to be male bashing, but go ahead - guess what sex they are) who can't seem to keep their feet covered. Now, I have no problem with them going barefoot -- heck, most of the time I'm barefoot at home (I try to keep my shoes on in public since some places frown on barefeet -- go figure). But, when I decide to go barefoot I leave my socks in my room. Sounds normal, right? OH. MY. GOSH. I'm going to hang someone up by their toes momentarily!!! Here are some of the places where I find socks: under the couch, under the couch cushions, inside the lift-up arm rests of the couch, in the toy box, in a planter, in a video drawer, on the porch, in the garage (which I guess is better than wearing them out in the dirt), on the stairs (kudos for at least getting it on its way to the bedroom), in the piano bench (cuz I'm guessing that you can't use the pedals with socks?), under the kitchen sink, in the dog's bed (oh yeah, blame the dog) and the latest find -- in my new car!!! That's it, the last straw, your last chance, my last nerve - you name it, it's the last!
My latest plan was to throw away every sock I found. So I told the boys --( oh dang! I told you who it was!) ahead of time. Leave a sock, lose a sock. Then, when the socks are all gone we would go to Wally World and they would use their own money to buy their socks. This has been going on for the past few months and .... yep, there are very few socks around here, but hey, no big deal cuz ---- no one cares!!! Now let me give the oldest son some credit -- he doesn't leave his socks around any more. He's become more of a neatnik the last few months (sigh of relief). And, let me give the middle son some credit. He isn't leaving his socks around, either. That's cuz HE HAS NO SOCKS LEFT! He's been sockless for a couple of months now and his shoes are reeking!! So the blame totally goes onto the baby, I mean, youngest son. He still manages to have socks --- which makes one question who's socks he's been stealing? No wonder son #2 has stinky shoes. Anyway, the time has come to adjust the plan. Son #2 is going through a can of odor eater spray a week. Son #3 is getting ready to be harmed -- really, my-last-nerve (no matter how cute he is!).
So here it is: a dollar a sock. Not per pair, but per sock. Now, you need to know that son #3 is a tight-fisted millionaire. OK, he's not a millionaire but he does have a few hundred bucks stashed around here. And he has quite a bit tied up in stocks. Seriously. The kid went to his dad months before the Wii came out and insisted that he wanted to buy shares in Nintendo, saying that the stocks were going to go sky high. Got to give him credit -- the little business brain has made us over $8,000 so far (we had to buy shares in order to get some for him). Loves to hold on to money -- socks, not so much.
So I informed him today that he had half an hour to search this house and uncover every sock stashed. Thirty minutes. Then it was my turn. A dollar a sock. And dang if he didn't find every single one. Well, so far.
Part two of my plan is to go to Wally World and buy everyone new socks (they all 3 wear those white anklet socks. whatever.). I'm going to come home, open the packages and write each son's name on the bottom of each of their socks. Big. In all caps. And black magic marker. From now on, I'll know who's sock has been stashed and that child will have to fork over a dollar. Per sock. Either those boys will keep their socks on or I'll have a lot of pocket money! Maybe I'll start buying lotto tickets with all of my dollars! Wow -- this could be a very good thing! ........ I'll keep you posted.
My latest plan was to throw away every sock I found. So I told the boys --( oh dang! I told you who it was!) ahead of time. Leave a sock, lose a sock. Then, when the socks are all gone we would go to Wally World and they would use their own money to buy their socks. This has been going on for the past few months and .... yep, there are very few socks around here, but hey, no big deal cuz ---- no one cares!!! Now let me give the oldest son some credit -- he doesn't leave his socks around any more. He's become more of a neatnik the last few months (sigh of relief). And, let me give the middle son some credit. He isn't leaving his socks around, either. That's cuz HE HAS NO SOCKS LEFT! He's been sockless for a couple of months now and his shoes are reeking!! So the blame totally goes onto the baby, I mean, youngest son. He still manages to have socks --- which makes one question who's socks he's been stealing? No wonder son #2 has stinky shoes. Anyway, the time has come to adjust the plan. Son #2 is going through a can of odor eater spray a week. Son #3 is getting ready to be harmed -- really, my-last-nerve (no matter how cute he is!).
So here it is: a dollar a sock. Not per pair, but per sock. Now, you need to know that son #3 is a tight-fisted millionaire. OK, he's not a millionaire but he does have a few hundred bucks stashed around here. And he has quite a bit tied up in stocks. Seriously. The kid went to his dad months before the Wii came out and insisted that he wanted to buy shares in Nintendo, saying that the stocks were going to go sky high. Got to give him credit -- the little business brain has made us over $8,000 so far (we had to buy shares in order to get some for him). Loves to hold on to money -- socks, not so much.
So I informed him today that he had half an hour to search this house and uncover every sock stashed. Thirty minutes. Then it was my turn. A dollar a sock. And dang if he didn't find every single one. Well, so far.
Part two of my plan is to go to Wally World and buy everyone new socks (they all 3 wear those white anklet socks. whatever.). I'm going to come home, open the packages and write each son's name on the bottom of each of their socks. Big. In all caps. And black magic marker. From now on, I'll know who's sock has been stashed and that child will have to fork over a dollar. Per sock. Either those boys will keep their socks on or I'll have a lot of pocket money! Maybe I'll start buying lotto tickets with all of my dollars! Wow -- this could be a very good thing! ........ I'll keep you posted.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I know how it feels
So I found out last night (after I made the last post) that not only did the little athlete make a tackle, but he made THREE tackles!! And, one of them was at 4th and goal!! I see colleges lining up and scholarships being offered! I see Sports Illustrated calling up (and no cracks about the swim suit issue!) and the Wheaties people calling! I see ...... OK, I'm sane now. I'm clearing my head ..... NOW I see those tiny little guys (cuz it IS the C team and they aren't huge) rolling the football instead of kicking it in the air. I see the receiver letting it drop and roll in front of him instead of catching it. (an aside --- you should be SO impressed that I know what a receiver is and what he should be doing!) I see almost as many fumbles as I see tackles. Well, that's pretty much what I SAW last night but, hey -- it was the first time for almost every one of those boys to play and I still think they did a great job! And who knows -- he could still get a scholarship - for his grades, I hope.
So the dh called last night (he's in Boston) and I told him about the game. Well, I told him as much as I was able about the game before I turned the phone over to the pro. He told him all about every play and every pass (I think he left out the fumbles and rolls). Before he handed the phone back to me he said, "It was a great game, Dad. You should've been there." Ouch.
As soon as I put the phone to my ear the dh said, "A dagger in my heart." Yep, I know how he feels. And I would further say that I believe most moms know how it feels. Ouch. Sometimes you just can't win. I still hear about the birthday that I missed when I went to visit my brother and his family in England one year. Ouch. Gee whiz, the kid had like 13 birthdays before then and almost that many since!!! I just missed ONE! And I'll have you know that I have gone out of my way to NOT mention the fact that SHE spent a couple of those away from me! It's not important where she was (college) -- she chose to not be here! So there!
This is another topic that could go on for days -- Mommy guilt. But as I'm getting older I'm getting a thicker skin. I also realize that stuff happens and sometimes you can only do so much. For the rest I say, "Add it to the book". They'll have a whole set of encyclopedias one day.
Oh, and to ease the pain in the dh's heart -- I let him know that I videotaped the game for him. Am I a great wife or what?
So the dh called last night (he's in Boston) and I told him about the game. Well, I told him as much as I was able about the game before I turned the phone over to the pro. He told him all about every play and every pass (I think he left out the fumbles and rolls). Before he handed the phone back to me he said, "It was a great game, Dad. You should've been there." Ouch.
As soon as I put the phone to my ear the dh said, "A dagger in my heart." Yep, I know how he feels. And I would further say that I believe most moms know how it feels. Ouch. Sometimes you just can't win. I still hear about the birthday that I missed when I went to visit my brother and his family in England one year. Ouch. Gee whiz, the kid had like 13 birthdays before then and almost that many since!!! I just missed ONE! And I'll have you know that I have gone out of my way to NOT mention the fact that SHE spent a couple of those away from me! It's not important where she was (college) -- she chose to not be here! So there!
This is another topic that could go on for days -- Mommy guilt. But as I'm getting older I'm getting a thicker skin. I also realize that stuff happens and sometimes you can only do so much. For the rest I say, "Add it to the book". They'll have a whole set of encyclopedias one day.
Oh, and to ease the pain in the dh's heart -- I let him know that I videotaped the game for him. Am I a great wife or what?
Monday, September 17, 2007
I have knowledge!
Just picked up the studly football player. He played defensive end and wide receiver. So there you go -- all of you poo-pooers out there whom I KNOW were poo - pooing me for not knowing that. Oh, and he made 3 tackles! Quadruple woot. :)
So proud
(He's the one taking off, closest to the ref)Today my baby -- err, I mean -- son (dang, I keep doing that!) played in his first football game! First. Ever. Woot.
He started and played in more than 3/4 of it. He made a great tackle (they announced his name over the speakers!). Then, later in the game he made a safety for 2 points!!! Double woot.
I know almost nothing about football. In fact, don't ask what position he played cuz I don't know. Hey -- don't be thinking I'm a lame mom -- he played different positions the whole time! Well, OK, I'm a wee bit lame. I don't know what any of them were. If he were the quarterback I'd know that. Or the kicker. See, not totally lame.
Anyway, I surprised myself at the game. Football can bring things out in you that in every day life would be most unladylike.
Or maybe it's just football that your baby --- dang, son is playing. I never thought I'd hear myself yelling (at the top of my lungs), "Get him!". Or "HIT HIM!" (picture Eliza Doolittle at the horse race in "My Fair Lady"). Yep, a bit of a surprise. Maybe I should yell that in the house when the boys are fighting. It would probably shock them into getting along. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Sorry, I'm wiping the tears of laughter out of my eyes. That was rich. Though I may try it just to scare them. THAT would be rich!
So I was a very proud mom today -- even though I may not always know what's going on - exactly - I'm still proud!
Oh, and they won --- 20-14!! Triple woot.
(Post game picture)
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Thanks, Mom
A girl can always count on her mother for support. And for making a comment on her daughter's blog! Oh, and a girl can always count on her tennis partner, too -- thanks, Margot. :)
Actually it is nice to know that someone out there is reading this and hopefully getting a chuckle once in a while. So please feel free to add a comment so I know you're out there! It's lonely in cyber space!!
I"m watching the Emmy's at the moment and I have one question: C'mon, Ryan Seacrest?!!! What the heck?
As I was watching the Emmy's they showed a picture of Obama superimposed as an obstetrician in another picture. I have absolutely nothing to say about that except that it brought a memory hurtling back to me. Another embarrassing moment as a mother. (Maybe I should change this blog to "My Most Embarrassing Moments as a Mother". I'm sure I'd be able to write for years!)
Anyway, was it just MY boys or did/do other boys do this? Whenever I'd take them to the doctor's office they would ALWAYS find the dang stirrups hidden in the exam table and pull them out. Over and over and over again, loudly asking, "Mommy!! What are THESE for?!" If I could've crawled under the table I probably would have. I think I finally convinced them that they were for exercise, but that I wasn't certain how they worked. Hey, don't judge me -- it was the most creative thing I could think of and I wasn't about to go into a lesson of the female anatomy with 3 little boys!
And might I point out --- that NOT ONE SINGLE TIME did any of my 3 girls even glance at the stirrups in all their years of going in for checkups. It must be an innate fear and aversion that's embedded in our chromosomes.
That's my opinion anyway. For what it's worth.
Actually it is nice to know that someone out there is reading this and hopefully getting a chuckle once in a while. So please feel free to add a comment so I know you're out there! It's lonely in cyber space!!
I"m watching the Emmy's at the moment and I have one question: C'mon, Ryan Seacrest?!!! What the heck?
As I was watching the Emmy's they showed a picture of Obama superimposed as an obstetrician in another picture. I have absolutely nothing to say about that except that it brought a memory hurtling back to me. Another embarrassing moment as a mother. (Maybe I should change this blog to "My Most Embarrassing Moments as a Mother". I'm sure I'd be able to write for years!)
Anyway, was it just MY boys or did/do other boys do this? Whenever I'd take them to the doctor's office they would ALWAYS find the dang stirrups hidden in the exam table and pull them out. Over and over and over again, loudly asking, "Mommy!! What are THESE for?!" If I could've crawled under the table I probably would have. I think I finally convinced them that they were for exercise, but that I wasn't certain how they worked. Hey, don't judge me -- it was the most creative thing I could think of and I wasn't about to go into a lesson of the female anatomy with 3 little boys!
And might I point out --- that NOT ONE SINGLE TIME did any of my 3 girls even glance at the stirrups in all their years of going in for checkups. It must be an innate fear and aversion that's embedded in our chromosomes.
That's my opinion anyway. For what it's worth.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
I take the blame -- sometimes
I'm hiding in my bedroom. Two of the males are playing a video game. ( Another thing I don't get --- why playing a video game involves raising the decibels in the house to all-time highs.) Sigh. I blame myself. I could go in there and insist that they play the game a little more sedately. But heck, they're not fighting, they're not begging me to take them to that stupid-looking ping pong movie and, most importantly, they're not practicing their rock band songs. The drums and bass guitar are silent, for the moment. I'll take the video game yelling.
I'm not the only one hiding. The dh has escaped to the lake to finish our taxes (yes, I know it's September). He goes to greater extremes to hide. The other female adult has escaped to "work". Whatever. The 17 yr old male hasn't really escaped. He's taking the ACT. Wait, he IS incredibly like his father. Maybe this is his extreme way to hide. Hmmmmm, I'll have to confront, I mean, ask him about that when he gets home.
So yes, there are things I blame myself for. Things like the girls' love of theatre and so huge improbability of hanging around heterosexual males. Sigh.
I blame myself for not snuffing out one daughter's delight in shopping for 60's & 70's style clothing at resale shops. She is definitely her own delightful, fun, caring person (even if she's dressed "uniquely").
Again, here's a topic that I could definitely write many posts about. On second thought .... nahhhh. Cuz there are also many things for which I refuse to accept blame. Like one daughter's outrage that her bank cashed a check she wrote 3 months earlier!! She figured if they didn't cash it the money was still hers! Meanwhile, her checks were turning into rubber. Nope, not taking that one.
I'm not taking blame for the reaction of the 17 yr old when I sanely (or so I thought) suggested that he come up with a couple of other choices for college. He was just finishing his sophomore year of high school and was set on one certain school. He looked at me like he was puzzled at my suggestion and said, "It's a little late for that." I was a speechless for a few seconds. I think he has the next 10 years of his life planned out. It'll be interesting to see what God has planned!
And I do NOT blame myself that my vegetarian, work-out loving daughter has high cholesterol at the age of 22. That's what MY mother's for!
I'm not the only one hiding. The dh has escaped to the lake to finish our taxes (yes, I know it's September). He goes to greater extremes to hide. The other female adult has escaped to "work". Whatever. The 17 yr old male hasn't really escaped. He's taking the ACT. Wait, he IS incredibly like his father. Maybe this is his extreme way to hide. Hmmmmm, I'll have to confront, I mean, ask him about that when he gets home.
So yes, there are things I blame myself for. Things like the girls' love of theatre and so huge improbability of hanging around heterosexual males. Sigh.
I blame myself for not snuffing out one daughter's delight in shopping for 60's & 70's style clothing at resale shops. She is definitely her own delightful, fun, caring person (even if she's dressed "uniquely").
Again, here's a topic that I could definitely write many posts about. On second thought .... nahhhh. Cuz there are also many things for which I refuse to accept blame. Like one daughter's outrage that her bank cashed a check she wrote 3 months earlier!! She figured if they didn't cash it the money was still hers! Meanwhile, her checks were turning into rubber. Nope, not taking that one.
I'm not taking blame for the reaction of the 17 yr old when I sanely (or so I thought) suggested that he come up with a couple of other choices for college. He was just finishing his sophomore year of high school and was set on one certain school. He looked at me like he was puzzled at my suggestion and said, "It's a little late for that." I was a speechless for a few seconds. I think he has the next 10 years of his life planned out. It'll be interesting to see what God has planned!
And I do NOT blame myself that my vegetarian, work-out loving daughter has high cholesterol at the age of 22. That's what MY mother's for!
Friday, September 14, 2007
the saga continues .....
...... 3 of the 4 have gone through here this morning. I waited until they left to snatch the camera. I may be going on out on a limb here, but I thought the flash might make them wonder what was going on. Nahhhh, at 6:30 in the morning there's probably not much, other than an ad for a WWII show on the History Channel, that would get their attention.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
I just don't get it.
OK, I'm of normal to high intelligence (on any give day, of course) and I just don't get it. Or should I say, I just don't get THEM.
I've lived with the male species for almost 25 years now -- and I'm at a loss. I guess this needs to be a question that I have to add to my "when I get to heaven" list (like the #1 question, Who was behind the JFK assassination?). Here's the question (and if any of you wise, wise women -- or men (?), have the answer, please enlighten me): why does the male species not shut the pantry door????! I wish I could say that it's just the young specimen, but it's not. The older males are just as incapable of shutting that door as their young offspring. I'm just thankful that the fridge shuts on its own!
Now don't get me wrong -- it's not like I totally understand them and this is the ONE thing I don't get. Nooooooo, there's a plethora of things that I just don't get. I could probably make a post a day on the things I just don't get. But that would probably get redundant.
I don't get how they actually look like they're listening to me but they don't hear past the first sentence. What dramatic talent! To appear as if one is hanging on every word but to actually be thinking about what one is having for dinner is an astounding feat. OK, OK, women do have that talent, too. We can act like we're listening with the best of them, but at least when we're pretending to listen we're actually getting something done, like the shopping list, or the to-do list, or something equally as important!
Anyway, this morning I decided to fade into the background and see if any one of the four males in my house would actually shut the pantry door behind them. All four came into the kitchen at four different times. All four failed this test . Big time. All 4. Aged 12 & 11/12ths, 15, 17, and yes, 47. Remarkable. Oh, don't go thinking I'm sexist!! I wasn't prejudiced in this test. I also sat and observed the 22 yr old female. She passed with flying colors. Go figure.
Actually this has been enlightening for me. I realize now, after almost 25 years, that I can't yell at them for this. It's evidently in their DNA. They can't help it. Just like they can't help the fact that they don't notice that the trash can is full. No, wait --- they don't notice when it's past full --- over-flowing, cascading down to the floor. They are incapable of actually seeing this. I wonder if any scientist has done credible research in this area? I doubt it. Someone should. And I guess it should be a female scientist because a male wouldn't even see that there's a need here.
Well, if anyone sees an ad in the paper for volunteers for this research please call me. I have four people to donate and they'd probably gladly go. Then they can stop pretending to listen to me for a bit. That's got to be a drain.
I've lived with the male species for almost 25 years now -- and I'm at a loss. I guess this needs to be a question that I have to add to my "when I get to heaven" list (like the #1 question, Who was behind the JFK assassination?). Here's the question (and if any of you wise, wise women -- or men (?), have the answer, please enlighten me): why does the male species not shut the pantry door????! I wish I could say that it's just the young specimen, but it's not. The older males are just as incapable of shutting that door as their young offspring. I'm just thankful that the fridge shuts on its own!
Now don't get me wrong -- it's not like I totally understand them and this is the ONE thing I don't get. Nooooooo, there's a plethora of things that I just don't get. I could probably make a post a day on the things I just don't get. But that would probably get redundant.
I don't get how they actually look like they're listening to me but they don't hear past the first sentence. What dramatic talent! To appear as if one is hanging on every word but to actually be thinking about what one is having for dinner is an astounding feat. OK, OK, women do have that talent, too. We can act like we're listening with the best of them, but at least when we're pretending to listen we're actually getting something done, like the shopping list, or the to-do list, or something equally as important!
Anyway, this morning I decided to fade into the background and see if any one of the four males in my house would actually shut the pantry door behind them. All four came into the kitchen at four different times. All four failed this test . Big time. All 4. Aged 12 & 11/12ths, 15, 17, and yes, 47. Remarkable. Oh, don't go thinking I'm sexist!! I wasn't prejudiced in this test. I also sat and observed the 22 yr old female. She passed with flying colors. Go figure.
Actually this has been enlightening for me. I realize now, after almost 25 years, that I can't yell at them for this. It's evidently in their DNA. They can't help it. Just like they can't help the fact that they don't notice that the trash can is full. No, wait --- they don't notice when it's past full --- over-flowing, cascading down to the floor. They are incapable of actually seeing this. I wonder if any scientist has done credible research in this area? I doubt it. Someone should. And I guess it should be a female scientist because a male wouldn't even see that there's a need here.
Well, if anyone sees an ad in the paper for volunteers for this research please call me. I have four people to donate and they'd probably gladly go. Then they can stop pretending to listen to me for a bit. That's got to be a drain.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
flax seeds and fish oil
This is what my life has come to -- flax seeds and fish oil. Gag. Me. WIth. a. Spoon. Seriously. In my ever-present struggle to keep down my cholesterol (thank you, Mom) the dr. has discovered that my triglycerides are shooting for the stratosphere (thank you again, Mom). I'm on my third medication for cholesterol and finally got it below 200. My good is high and my bad is low. Alert the press! However, those nasty little tri-thingees are having the time of their life. So now I'm trying fish oil and flax seeds. Now fish oil I can take because it's in a pill and it doesn't taste "fishy" (cuz boy if it did it wouldn't be in my throat for long!). That brings me to the flax seeds. On the bottle of this delightful little seed (cuz you have to eat the whole seed, not the oil) it says, and I quote, "..Golden Flax Seeds have a delicious, nutty flavor..". OK, I may not have the world's most delicate palate but I thnk I can tell what's delicious. And nutty. And this ain't it. Was the author of this little blurb raised by wolves? Wait, no, probably not since wolves eat meat and most likely would refrain from getting anywhere near a flax seed. This person must've been raised by a group of wild giraffes. Yep .... eats leaves so must like flax seed. Try eating a few for yourself (I have a 10.5 oz bottle which contains 50 billion flax seeds --- I'll happily share). I'll start a public opinion poll. Try a few flax seeds and then post your comment here. We'll see if it's just me or if the flax seed company drugs their writers before they create their blurbs.
On the kid front -- not much going on today. The first-ever football game with my baby, I mean son, playing in it was cancelled today because of rain. And not really rain ... just the threat of rain. Wimps. OK so the rain that's supposedly coming is from a tropical storm but still ..... it's FOOTBALL! So I'll have to keep you posted on the football massacres .... I mean, games.
SInce it's dullsville at the moment I'll share with you one of my most embarassing moments as a mother. Ever. Before I start you should close your eyes and try to hear the theme to "I Love Lucy" playing in the background. Feel free to hum.
One morning I noticed that my 3 yr old, who was running around in his underwear as usual, had something on the front of his underwear (other than Sponge Bob). It looked like blood. Now, I'm a pretty laid back mom, but the thought of my baby having blood on/in his underwear was a bit scary. I kept an eye on him for the rest of the day and he seemed fine. The next morning the same thing (and yes, it was a different pair of underwear -- it had Spiderman on it). More blood on the front! So I called the dr. who told me to bring him right in. We did the ol' "put the bag on the toddler thing" and then sat around for hours filling him with liquids so that he'd finally urinate. Success. So I went home to await the test results. A few hours later the nurse called. No sign of blood in the urnine. Strange. She said to keep an eye on him and if it appeared again to bring him right in.
Well, the next morning I walked past the table where he was having breakfast. He was sitting in his underwear, eating cereal. Chocolate cereal. Yep. Ever see a toddler eat cereal? Notice how the milk drips off of the spoon with every bite? Drip, drip, drip --- right down the front of him and splat --- smack-dab onto his underwear. Chocolate-flavored milk. Ever notice how dried chocolate-flavored milk looks extremely similar to blood? Sigh. I think I finally admitted this little fiasco to his dr .... around the time of his 7 year check up.
So there you go .... wait, do you hear that? "Luuuuucy, I'm home!!!!"
On the kid front -- not much going on today. The first-ever football game with my baby, I mean son, playing in it was cancelled today because of rain. And not really rain ... just the threat of rain. Wimps. OK so the rain that's supposedly coming is from a tropical storm but still ..... it's FOOTBALL! So I'll have to keep you posted on the football massacres .... I mean, games.
SInce it's dullsville at the moment I'll share with you one of my most embarassing moments as a mother. Ever. Before I start you should close your eyes and try to hear the theme to "I Love Lucy" playing in the background. Feel free to hum.
One morning I noticed that my 3 yr old, who was running around in his underwear as usual, had something on the front of his underwear (other than Sponge Bob). It looked like blood. Now, I'm a pretty laid back mom, but the thought of my baby having blood on/in his underwear was a bit scary. I kept an eye on him for the rest of the day and he seemed fine. The next morning the same thing (and yes, it was a different pair of underwear -- it had Spiderman on it). More blood on the front! So I called the dr. who told me to bring him right in. We did the ol' "put the bag on the toddler thing" and then sat around for hours filling him with liquids so that he'd finally urinate. Success. So I went home to await the test results. A few hours later the nurse called. No sign of blood in the urnine. Strange. She said to keep an eye on him and if it appeared again to bring him right in.
Well, the next morning I walked past the table where he was having breakfast. He was sitting in his underwear, eating cereal. Chocolate cereal. Yep. Ever see a toddler eat cereal? Notice how the milk drips off of the spoon with every bite? Drip, drip, drip --- right down the front of him and splat --- smack-dab onto his underwear. Chocolate-flavored milk. Ever notice how dried chocolate-flavored milk looks extremely similar to blood? Sigh. I think I finally admitted this little fiasco to his dr .... around the time of his 7 year check up.
So there you go .... wait, do you hear that? "Luuuuucy, I'm home!!!!"
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Add it to the book.
OK, I take the blame. One hundred percent. Totally. Me oculpa. I forgot. I did not remind the child to, once again, set his alarm last night (see a previous post). Why should HE bear the blame for sleeping late?!! Sheesh! I need a personal assistant.
So, the child barely had time to get dressed and out the door to catch the bus. Meaning he didn't eat breakfast and grabbed a bag of Goldfish for lunch. Yum. Again, my fault because I should have remembered -- what? Let's all say it together .....
each day is a new day!!!!
So, he probably flunked the math test he had today because he had no energy, protein or even sugar in his system. And if he flunks the test he'll probably flunk the class, flunk the year, never graduate, never go to college or go to work wearing a white collar (like he wants to do THAT anyway). All because of me. As I have told (and will continue to tell) each of the 6 of them, "Add it to the book." Oh, I'm no fool - of course at least one of them will write a book. I know that my name will be drug through the mud because of how I totally screwed up their future abilities to function in the outside world. I encourage them to do it! In fact, I sometimes suggest topics that should be considered for entire chapters! Such chapters should be entitled, "How my mom screwed up my high school existence by not letting me date until I was 16"; "How my mom made certain that I had no social life by not letting me go to R rated movies with my friends"; oh .... and then there's the biggest chapter, "How my mom participated in breaking child labor laws by making me do my own laundry". That last one may be a whole book all by itself. You'd think we lived in Cambodia and I owned a sweat shop. Actually ..... I wonder how much money one could make by moving one's family to Cambodia and opening up a sweat shop? Hmmmmmmm..........
So, the child barely had time to get dressed and out the door to catch the bus. Meaning he didn't eat breakfast and grabbed a bag of Goldfish for lunch. Yum. Again, my fault because I should have remembered -- what? Let's all say it together .....
each day is a new day!!!!
So, he probably flunked the math test he had today because he had no energy, protein or even sugar in his system. And if he flunks the test he'll probably flunk the class, flunk the year, never graduate, never go to college or go to work wearing a white collar (like he wants to do THAT anyway). All because of me. As I have told (and will continue to tell) each of the 6 of them, "Add it to the book." Oh, I'm no fool - of course at least one of them will write a book. I know that my name will be drug through the mud because of how I totally screwed up their future abilities to function in the outside world. I encourage them to do it! In fact, I sometimes suggest topics that should be considered for entire chapters! Such chapters should be entitled, "How my mom screwed up my high school existence by not letting me date until I was 16"; "How my mom made certain that I had no social life by not letting me go to R rated movies with my friends"; oh .... and then there's the biggest chapter, "How my mom participated in breaking child labor laws by making me do my own laundry". That last one may be a whole book all by itself. You'd think we lived in Cambodia and I owned a sweat shop. Actually ..... I wonder how much money one could make by moving one's family to Cambodia and opening up a sweat shop? Hmmmmmmm..........
Monday, September 10, 2007
Is it just me ......
OK, a question .... is it just me or do other moms cringe when the phone rings on a school day and the caller i.d. lists the name of your school/school district (thus meaning one of your children's teachers is most likely calling)? I let it ring at least 3 times, debating whether to answer it and face the music like a man (?) or let the machine pick it up, thus delaying the agony. Sigh.
Now it's not always a negative call, but call me Pavlov's dog because more times than not -- that's exactly what it is.
Today's call (yes, only 3 weeks into the school year!) was a mixed call. The ol' "I just love your child and am enjoying having him in my class. But the 54 average makes me sad." Makes YOU sad??? Oh, and the fact that he has a 54 is because that's what he made on Friday -- on a test. sigh
What kind of mother doesn't know that her child has a major (minor?) test? ME, that's what kind!! Sheesh, if you're old enough to want a cell phone you're old enough to study for your test without your mother harping at you, wouldn't you think? Guess not. I am NOT following this kid to college and then to his workplace to make sure he prepares for every test and presentation. Sink or swim, I say. But then, that's just the kind of mom I am. Heartless. Just ask him.
:)
Now it's not always a negative call, but call me Pavlov's dog because more times than not -- that's exactly what it is.
Today's call (yes, only 3 weeks into the school year!) was a mixed call. The ol' "I just love your child and am enjoying having him in my class. But the 54 average makes me sad." Makes YOU sad??? Oh, and the fact that he has a 54 is because that's what he made on Friday -- on a test. sigh
What kind of mother doesn't know that her child has a major (minor?) test? ME, that's what kind!! Sheesh, if you're old enough to want a cell phone you're old enough to study for your test without your mother harping at you, wouldn't you think? Guess not. I am NOT following this kid to college and then to his workplace to make sure he prepares for every test and presentation. Sink or swim, I say. But then, that's just the kind of mom I am. Heartless. Just ask him.
:)
Sunday, September 9, 2007
It's a new day!!
Why is it that boys - or should I say MY boys (though I think this is common to the gender) seem to think that each new day means new rules? The rules that applied yesterday certainly don't apply today because it's a NEW day! Why do I have to say EVERY night, "Set your alarm", "take a shower", "actually get in the tub and turn on the water", "use soap on your body and shampoo on your hair"? Why does the boy brain not hold certain information over a 24 hour period? I don't get it. I'd also like to know why, as soon as a boy hits 13, he can't multi task? It took me a while to get used to this phenomenon when our eldest son became a teenager. Before then I could send him upstairs to pick the wet towels up off of the floor, turn off the light and bring down his laundry. After that magical birthday he could only do one thing. He seemed clueless when I asked him about the other two! "Why didn't you turn out the light and bring down the laundry?" "Huh?" followed by a pause as he stared off in confusion. "I sent you up to pick up the towels, turn off the light and bring down your laundry." The dawn of recognition hits his face ... "Ohhhh yeaaaaah ...... I forgot." I think I wondered a few times if he was hanging with the wrong crowd and killing brain cells after school. But I think those brain cells get killed off all on their own after thirteen. That's my theory anyway, as flawed as it might be.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
What the heck am I doing?!
Well, after many encouraging words - and even a few challenging ones - I'm trying my hand at this blogging thing. I may be the only one who knows it's here - and that may be a good thing.
Here's a little info about me and my family:
My husband and I have been married 24 years and have 6 children. Three girls, followed by three boys. God has a sense of humor. Actually, whenever the girls asked "Why didn't you stop after three?" (and they asked often) we told them it was their fault. They were such wonderful babies and toddlers that we just kept going. Had we received three boys first we would have only three children. Trust me.
The girls are 22, 20 and 20. Yes, twins. Identical.
They boys are 17, 15 and soon-to-be 13.
Our household has changed quite a bit in the last few years. The girls went off to college and left me alone - with all of this testosterone in our house. I can't say that I blame them -- I would've flown the coop many times if it were an option! The first year was quite an adjustment. I missed the girls. I missed the family members who understood me and what I was feeling and didn't look at me like I was from another planet. I missed not having to repeat myself. I missed having children in the house who didn't punch each other to make a point.
But, after the first 6 months or so I began to adjust. Now, I'm almost afraid to admit this, I'm enjoying life with just the boys! It's quite different, to be sure, but it's never dull. Actually, life hasn't been dull since November, 1984!
This blog would probably have had more funny, exciting stories if I'd started it back then, when W was born. But, household computers weren't around in 1984. So I'll have to make do with less-exciting stories. Well, let's hope they'll be less exciting. I mean, the kids are older, there are fewer of them at home, life should be pretty much easy-going now, right? HA!!
Well-meaning people would look at our large brood whenever we were out in public and feel the need to say trite things like, "It gets easier". What? Did they give up being parents once their kids hit 18?! What a crock! It doesn't get "easier" - it gets, well, different. It's an ever-changing role, this parenthood thing. It's mostly about control -- and realizing that you never really have any. Well, at least you SHOULD come to realize that. Sometimes it takes years and years.
Anyway, just as I was adjusting to life with a household of men, the oldest daughter came home. Much to our, and her, surprise. Not in the plans, but then God has a sense of humor (a recuring theme in my life). She's doing an internship for a year that pays zip. So she's back at home. I think SHE feels like a being from another planet. It's an adjustment for everyone but one that seems to be coming along.
She's interning as a dramaturg for a theatre in Houston. She loves it. The first play of the season opened last night and we went. She's in the playbill!! Picture and all! And the notes that she wrote in the playbill (one of the jobs of a dramaturg) were absolutely fabulous! And no, I'm not biased. :)
Anyway, it's an awesome play and you should go see it. Those of you who know me can ask about it and I'll give you the details.
I think I've lost my mind (yet again). I decided to audition for a local musical (no, not a singing part). I got the part of the "mom" -- how ironic. The day after I auditioned our pastor called to ask me to consider coming back on staff at our church in a newly created position. Twenty hours a week -- manageable. Well, almost. Add it to the play, the youngest son's football schedule (his first time EVER to play!), the dh's work schedule, the dh's school board schedule (he's the president), and most importantly - my tennis team schedule (usually a great stress reliever. usually.) and I think I've lost my mind. I've been working for two weeks and rehearsals started this past week. What - have - I - done?!
Actually, I think it will turn out OK. I know the next two months will be crazy (the play is at the end of Oct) but I think it will be worth it. I'm loving the job, even though I really don't know what I'm doing (which is why it's great to have a NEWLY created position -- no expectations!).
So, that's life at the moment. We'll see what the future holds. God does indeed have a sense of humor. :)
Here's a little info about me and my family:
My husband and I have been married 24 years and have 6 children. Three girls, followed by three boys. God has a sense of humor. Actually, whenever the girls asked "Why didn't you stop after three?" (and they asked often) we told them it was their fault. They were such wonderful babies and toddlers that we just kept going. Had we received three boys first we would have only three children. Trust me.
The girls are 22, 20 and 20. Yes, twins. Identical.
They boys are 17, 15 and soon-to-be 13.
Our household has changed quite a bit in the last few years. The girls went off to college and left me alone - with all of this testosterone in our house. I can't say that I blame them -- I would've flown the coop many times if it were an option! The first year was quite an adjustment. I missed the girls. I missed the family members who understood me and what I was feeling and didn't look at me like I was from another planet. I missed not having to repeat myself. I missed having children in the house who didn't punch each other to make a point.
But, after the first 6 months or so I began to adjust. Now, I'm almost afraid to admit this, I'm enjoying life with just the boys! It's quite different, to be sure, but it's never dull. Actually, life hasn't been dull since November, 1984!
This blog would probably have had more funny, exciting stories if I'd started it back then, when W was born. But, household computers weren't around in 1984. So I'll have to make do with less-exciting stories. Well, let's hope they'll be less exciting. I mean, the kids are older, there are fewer of them at home, life should be pretty much easy-going now, right? HA!!
Well-meaning people would look at our large brood whenever we were out in public and feel the need to say trite things like, "It gets easier". What? Did they give up being parents once their kids hit 18?! What a crock! It doesn't get "easier" - it gets, well, different. It's an ever-changing role, this parenthood thing. It's mostly about control -- and realizing that you never really have any. Well, at least you SHOULD come to realize that. Sometimes it takes years and years.
Anyway, just as I was adjusting to life with a household of men, the oldest daughter came home. Much to our, and her, surprise. Not in the plans, but then God has a sense of humor (a recuring theme in my life). She's doing an internship for a year that pays zip. So she's back at home. I think SHE feels like a being from another planet. It's an adjustment for everyone but one that seems to be coming along.
She's interning as a dramaturg for a theatre in Houston. She loves it. The first play of the season opened last night and we went. She's in the playbill!! Picture and all! And the notes that she wrote in the playbill (one of the jobs of a dramaturg) were absolutely fabulous! And no, I'm not biased. :)
Anyway, it's an awesome play and you should go see it. Those of you who know me can ask about it and I'll give you the details.
I think I've lost my mind (yet again). I decided to audition for a local musical (no, not a singing part). I got the part of the "mom" -- how ironic. The day after I auditioned our pastor called to ask me to consider coming back on staff at our church in a newly created position. Twenty hours a week -- manageable. Well, almost. Add it to the play, the youngest son's football schedule (his first time EVER to play!), the dh's work schedule, the dh's school board schedule (he's the president), and most importantly - my tennis team schedule (usually a great stress reliever. usually.) and I think I've lost my mind. I've been working for two weeks and rehearsals started this past week. What - have - I - done?!
Actually, I think it will turn out OK. I know the next two months will be crazy (the play is at the end of Oct) but I think it will be worth it. I'm loving the job, even though I really don't know what I'm doing (which is why it's great to have a NEWLY created position -- no expectations!).
So, that's life at the moment. We'll see what the future holds. God does indeed have a sense of humor. :)
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