Thursday, December 22, 2011

Today is one of those days where I feel like I should blog and brag about all of the holiday cheer we have been spreading around these here parts.

We got this accomplished. Sorry for the crappy picture.

We have wrapped 6 presents. And bought all the rest.

We watched Rudolph...4 times.

We bought cookie mix and cutters to make sugar cookies. Have yet to make them.

We bought a special brownie Christmas box to make present-shaped brownies. Have yet to make them.

The dogs are getting baths as we speak so they don't stink to high heaven for all of our family and friends.

We have a few (17) strands of Christmas lights on our house, that do not match all of our neighbors color-coordinated Christmas lights.

Aaannd...that's it. Every year I say that we are going to enjoy the season, damnit! I WILL become the supermom who makes cookies and fudge and peanut butter balls with my kids. We WILL decorate the tree with awesome Christmas music playing in the background, instead of the movie Elf.

This year I am still deciding if I'm going to attempt the mall tomorrow to take the girls to see Santa. Of all the things we have left to do, that one terrifies me the most.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Mac Truck

The holidays have hit me like a Mac truck. (I think my grandpa used to have a Mac truck business. I have a little glass dog that is their mascot that was used as a paperweight. It makes me smile when I look at it,even though I don't really know the whole story.)

I have all of my shopping done. The tree is up, although we did no other decorating.

Here is where I am freaking out.




OK, I feel better now.

My laptop is a work issued laptop, and I had them rebuild it last week. It was running very slow, and it did this annoying thing where I would hit a key, but nothing would appear on my screen. For example, if I tried to type $10.06, it might show up as $1006. And that is a bad thing for an accountant. Or, if I tried to type, "Please get to me by Jan. 2nd," it would show up as "legmand."

So yeah.

Oddly enough, my phone was doing a very similar thing. I am on my 2nd replacement, and so far so good. Except for the annoyingly extreme lag. But at least I can type. For now.

Has anyone else ever had this problem? HELP ME! or..."elpm!"

Sunday, December 11, 2011

So...Life Change?

This coming July begins my season of three weddings in three months.

My kids are in two of them.

And yeah, I kind of want to be the "cute mom" of the flower girls. I don't want to be the "overweight, haggard, run-down" mom-of-the-flower-girls.

I know, I know, totally superficial and vain. Deal.

Lately, I've realized just how stereotypically MOM I have become.

I wear Spanx. I see a news story and question what the other side is. I'm getting age spots on my face. Basically, I am getting old.

The worst part of becoming the stereotypical mom? The late night food cravings.

I want chocolate.

I want ice cream.

I want the red, white, and green Sixlets I bought at Cracker Barrel the other day.

This is NOT helpful in my quest to be the cute mother of the flower girls.

So, I need something to combat these late night cravings.

Any suggestions??

While we are at it, any suggestions on how to get started on a workout routine for someone who detests-with-her-entire-soul working out? Incorporating the puppy into said workout would be good, even better would be ideas of how to get out of bed in the morning to exercise. You know, with the puppy.


Friday, December 9, 2011

Just To Clarify

It is past midnight right now...waay past my bedtime.

I'm just laying in bed, facebook and Twitter have me wishing I would have gone to the Guns N' Roses concert in Indy and generally not keeping me as entertained as I would like.

My mind is spinning.

It spins to dinner tonight, where Sam leaned over to me and hugged me and said, "Mom, you're my best friend." I don't know where that came from, but I liked it.

And then my mind spun to my post from the other day, where I talked about how my kids are the greatest bestest most stupendest in the world.

And I got to thinking, "Geez Gail, I really hope that no one thinks you an asshole for writing that. Like, your kids are better than other people's kids, for reals."

So I just had to write this and say, Look. I hope you know that I know that all of you moms out there think the exact same thing about your kids than I do about my kids. And, for that matter, all you dog moms think the exact same thing about your dog versus other people's dogs.

Basically, I don't want you to think I am an asshole.

Which is kind of funny, because the whole reason I wrote that post is because I am often afraid I come off as an asshole about my kids in real life.

If you ever see me IRL, and ask me about the girls, I will probably sigh, roll my eyes, and say something to the effect that they drive me to drink. (Which is actually not really true, I have never once joined the #wineparty on Twitter.) I then will tell some terrible story about how Sam pushed Charlie off of a chair. Or how proud I am that Charlie is now starting to fight back.

I tell stories about times like tonight, I was Skyping with K, and realized Charlie was just being a tad too quiet. And how I turned around, and she had oh-so-carefully climbed from the floor onto the ottoman onto the couch, and had gingerly climbed onto the glass coffee table and was preparing to stand and fist pump the air like she was King of the Mountain. I *rushed* to get her down so she didn't fall and split her head open, because I was really not in the mood for our first ever ER visit tonight.

I am afraid that I make it seem like I am not very concerned with my children's well-being, or that they are a thorn in my side, all of this responsibility. And, just to be clear, THAT COULD NOT BE FURTHER FROM THE TRUTH. I hope that my sarcasm comes across in real life, just like I hope it comes across on my blog. THAT is why I wrote that last post. So when/if my kids grow up and read this blog and they are talking to their therapist and saying how I never talked to the strangers on the internet about how I loved them, there was one clear post about how I felt about my girls.

Sometimes I wonder if people who know me IRL doubt my mothering instinct, since I seem to be such a lax parent, I want them to know that I DO care. (I also have this thing in my head that bad things don't happen to me or my family, even though bad things continually happen.) I just can't fathom a devastating illness, a horrible car crash, or a terrible accident happening to me. To my kids. So I may allow my kids a bit more freedom that others.  And that is OK, to each his own. I just want people to understand. Or at least know the most important thing...I really do LIKE my kids. And love them. So there.

But, just so I am clear, they are really cute and adorable and awesome and generally, sort of, well-behaved (in public) (most of the time). They drive me nuts, force me to take more deep breaths in one day than in an entire lifetime before they came along, and can make me forget with one look that there are other people in a room. I guess that is what kids do to you. Damn kids.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Yep, I Have the Bestest Kids

I like to talk about my kids...but I don't like to be one of those people who talks about their kids. Today I am going to make an exception.

The other week, Pink tweeted that "ummm i just have to say that my daughter may be the most bestest amazingest stupendoustest baby ever made in the history of the planet."

And you know what? I totally get that. I do. But let's be honest...I kind of think I have the best kids ever.

For one...everyone is always telling me how cute they are. Like the woman in Target who was watching Sam roll all over the floor with her head on her jacket, instead of putting on her jacket like I told her to. And when she walked by and I smiled sheepishly and said, "Sam, seriously?" She smiled and me and said, "She is just so darn cute!" Random strangers in Target think my kids are cute even when they are crawling on dirty tile floors! (As this was happening, Charlie was trying to give the old lady in line behind us a heart attack by repeatedly standing up in the seat of the cart. She knows how to wiggle out of the seat belt. She'd stand up, look at the lady, giggle, get a smile out of her, and sit back down. Repeat.) 

Number two...They say the darndest things. And have impeccable timing. Last week, Sam wanted Papa (grandpa) to make her chocolate milk. She pulled out the cup and the milk and the Carnation chocolate. (I know, I know, it is Nestle Quik in my  house, but he drinks Carnation malted milk.) He was trying to tell her that she needed to use a sippy cup, because the last time he made her milk in a "real" cup, she spilled it. And she looked at him and said, "But Papa, that was your fault, remember?" Already using her cuteness (and knowledge of adult-onset memory loss) to get out of trouble. Then the other day she asked for juice. I told her, as I do every evening, that she could have water or milk. She put her finger to her lips, looked to the ceiling and said, "Hmmm...I think I'll have milk." And then she watched me open the door to the refrigerator. As I stood there, staring at the lack of skim milk (Sam's) and the small amount of whole milk (Charlie's), she popped off, "Oh mom! We are out of MY milk! And I don't like Charlie's milk! Maaybe I should have juice instead." Master manipulator, that one. And Charlie? Her first words were "NO KALE!" I mean, come much more awesome does it get??

Three...Charlie sleeps about 18 hours a day. That leaves 6 hours for eating and playing. And let's be honest, after eating, there are only about 2 hours for playing. Which is only 2 hours a day that I have to keep an eye on her to keep her from destroying the house. Not to say that she doesn't destroy the house on a regular basis, but it is a lot better than a kid who goes to bed at 11pm and gets up at 5am and refuses to nap for more than 15 minutes. The best part is, when we do decide to jack with her schedule and keep her up and drag her all over hells' half acre, she is totally cool with it. Like, she stores up extra sleep to give her the energy to get through outings, and the holidays. She wanders around where ever we take her without a care in the world, stopping to say, "What's that?" and "Mommy!" (she calls everyone mommy) People are dropping dead at her cuteness when she passes by.

There are a gazillion more reasons why MY kids are the bestest. (I suppose everyone has those reasons about why their kids are the bestest.) And I know I don't always show how great I think my kids are. Oftentimes, when Sam is doing something that she really shouldn't be doing and random strangers or family members see and open their eyes wide and shake their heads, I will just roll my eyes and say something like, "Oh Sam, she really is something, isn't she?" as I drag her away from the edge of whatever cliff it is she is poised to jump off of. (Unless, of course, she already has, in which case I have to go pick her up and dust her off. Unless of course she has already landed and is off and running again.) And they will nod and look away, obviously thinking, "You really should do something with that kid." People don't realize that every day, we are trying to figure out how to outwit her. And we haven't done it yet. I mean...look at her! What is she...16??

But honestly? Her and her sister are the bestest amazingest stupendoustest babies ever made in the history of the planet. Really.