Home is Where the Dog Is

Damn You Oprah

2012-01-24T13:21:00.001-06:00

I'm going to admit something almost sacrilegious in the area where I live...I never really liked Oprah.

After the fun days of the 80s where she did makeovers and scandalous "who's the daddy" shows, she started getting all high and mighty and "empowering." Bleh. Boooring.

Besides, I was convinced that she was just one of those hippy, crazy people all "in touch" with themselves and wanted to be just like the Dali Lama and that REAL, NORMAL people were not like that. NORMAL people dealt with life and went to work and had fun on the weekends and weren’t too concerned with the state of their being. Everyone else is FINE; it is just Oprah who was unhappy with herself.

Ugh.

Here's the thing. She may have been a little bit right. (I suppose that is why she was the most powerful woman in entertainment for so many years.) There is something to be said for knowing who you are and what affects you. And why you are feeling the way you are feeling.
I hate to admit when I am wrong. Especially years later. So this pains me.

Here is my latest revelation. I was soooo excited to get the house picked up the other day. I felt ambitious...so much so that I cleaned out not one, but TWO junk drawers yesterday! (only one to go!) I began to see the sense in doing one thing at a time… slowly but surely, you will accomplish your goal. (All those therapists and professional organizers just might know a thing or two after all.)

I guess I was experiencing this little thing called adrenaline, the high of accomplishing something. I had heard other people talk about it, and wondered why I never really felt like that. I can sort of achieve that feeling with about 4 Bud Lights, but never really any other time. (Except snow skiing, but it has been so long, I forget what that is like.) The feeling of accomplishment felt so…good!

Here is the problem with adrenaline. You come down off of the high. (Yeah, duh right?) And I think that is what I am going through right now. Last night, I was wandering my house, and decided I was in desperate need of Dairy Queen. I finally succumbed to the fact that 1) they do not deliver and 2) I was not going to get in the car to satisfy my dying wish of a hot fudge sundae. So I went to bed. All sulky-like.

I sighed heavily and closed my eyes and went to sleep, while Workaholic and Sam snuggled next to me. Yep, I was so sullen that I didn’t want to fight with her about bedtime. It was too late, and I really just wanted to feel sorry for myself. And I also didn't want to snuggle her. Even though she had just brushed her teeth, she still had bad breath. Who doesn't want to snuggle with their kid??

And when Workaholic’s alarm went off at 6am? Did I open my eyes, excited for another day, another chance to get a closet cleaned out or for the Purdue men’s basketball game tonight where I have FLOOR SEATS? No. I shut my eyes and wished for 12 more hours of sleep. (I am NOT a morning person.)

I sit here at work and wish there was a bubble over my desk. I hear other conversations going on around me and I wish for silence. Even the typing of someone else’s keyboard grates my nerves. I wish I could hang a “Quarantined” sign by my nameplate.

I now recognize this feeling as the loss of the feel good hormones. I know that with depression you have good days and bad days. This is not a good day. Little things that don’t go my way are devastating. For the first time since I started my new medication, I actually feel like I could cry. For absolutely no good reason.

A day like today is what I have such a hard time keeping a therapist. I can’t explain WHY I feel the way I do. I just FEEL. (But if I was Oprah, I bet I would know why.) Oftentimes, people will stand on the outside of my life, looking in, and ask me what do I have to be depressed about. That is just it…there is no reason. I could have everything my heart ever desired, and I would still feel this way. It just is the way it is. That is the struggle. No matter how green the grass is on the other side, there is always a cloud in the sky. Getting rid of that cloud is my new mission. I don’t want to live with a shadow overcastting my every day, or every other day. I don’t want to live just for the adrenaline. I want to be me, free of self-doubt and anger and be the person that I often pretend to be. Just like Oprah would want.

One Room Down, a House to Go

2012-01-23T15:00:00.001-06:00

A few months ago, we decided that our dining room would be put to better use as a playroom for the girls. At the time, our living room was a mess of kid toys and dog toys and we simply walked through it on the way to the kitchen. Both Workaholic and I closed our eyes to the mess, and the kids took over. We were both miserable. If we could have the kids play a few feet from the living room, all their crap didn't have to be underfoot all. the. time., we just might regain our sanity and happiness.

This was a few months ago.

Yesterday I asked Workaholic if we could go to the ~~funnest place on earth~~ The Home Depot to get light bulbs. It seemed as though every single light fixture had at least one bulb burned out. We have track lighting, can lights, ceiling fans with lights, and regular old light fixtures and lamps. We bought probably close to $100 in friggin' light bulbs. But the best part? Workaholic changed them ALL! AND he dusted the light fixtures and ceilings fans while he was up there!! LET THERE BE LIGHT.

$100 was not our total at The Depot. Our total was much higher, because we bought these fun storage bins! YAY STORAGE BINS! And then we spent the rest of the day putting them together and cleaning the room! YAY ORGANIZATION!

And then Charlie woke up and walked into the room and I started twitching when she began to pull out all the toys and play with them. I had to walk away, and take deep breaths, because the thought of my pretty, pretty playroom being messed up was just a little upsetting. (OK, so maybe I didn't have to walk away, but I did have to take a couple of deep breaths.)

I feel so. much. better. since this room has a chance of looking decent. I have hope for the rest of the house, and the closets, because if we did THIS in less than one day? Imagine what we could do in a weekend?! All it takes is a little pushing from my dear Workaholic, and we just might get our house to something that we deem acceptable.

What is actually pretty funny about these pictures, is that if I had seen them BEFORE I had kids, I would think, "Wow, how sad that she thinks that this room is CLEAN!"

And yes, there is a very clear mark on the floor where we used to have a rug. I don't recommend getting maple flooring, unless you are OK with pretty white-ish flooring turning yellow after a couple of years. So there!

Not a Real Hoarder, Probably Not Real OCD

2012-01-20T13:28:00.001-06:00

I am big on giving things labels. It is fun, and usually makes people giggle. I'm not really serious, but it get my point across. I LOVE labeling myself, but I don't really like to tell anyone my current label. They range from PPD to ADD. OCD is one of my FAVORITES. I've never really seen myself as much of an OCD person though. I am not fastidious about keeping the fringe on my rugs straight, I don't wash my hands 13 times after I pee, and I know once I set my alarm clock I don't have to get out of bed to check it 5 times. I have trust in my way of life, the way I do things. If I did it, then I did it.

I've been doing some deep-thinking, re-evaluating of my personality. Like, do I have low thyroid, or am I just lazy? (blood tests don't look good on the low thyroid front) Am I ADD, or just too lazy to really dig into a problem to find the real solution? Do I have asthema, or is not being able to breathe really a side effect of exercise? Deep, deep questions, people.

My main problem most of my life has been motivation. I just don't have it. To do anything. I do what I have to do to not get in trouble. I often find myself thinking, "If I am not going to do something perfectly, what is the point of doing it at all? Why clean out THIS closet when there are 5 others that need to be cleaned and organized too? Why exercise if it will only help NOW, and if I stop I will lose everything I gained? Why train Kale to do one thing when Kabo knows all these commands that Kale doesn't know?" (Hey, never said I was rational.)

So let's recap...low thyroid, ADD, and PPD?

I would now like to add OCD to the list. And OCD just might be the root cause of all of my problems.

I have this need to do things just the right way. MY WAY. And if things aren't done MY WAY, then why do them at all? Why clean the house if I can't put the girls' toys into organized little bins? (I don't have said bins yet. And the thought of going through all those toys makes my head spin.) Might as well just leave them all over the place, that is where they will end up anyways. Why work with Kale on training his Stay when I only have a few minutes today, and he won't get it or retain it, and then I won't be able to work with him for a week?

Might as well sit on the couch and watch this show. What is the point of doing something at all if I can't do it perfectly, so less than half assed is just as good as 90%. (Who thinks like that????)

Workaholic is somewhat the same as me on the OCD front. However, his response is COMPLETELY OPPOSITE. He strives to do his best, all the time. He strives for PERFECTION. And oftentimes will get damn near close to it. And he spends A LOT of time doing it. And that just looks exhausting to me. However, I do enjoy the fruits of his labor, even if it is only changing a light bulb on a fixture I can't reach without a ladder.

Am I the only one who is like this? Why do something at all if you can't do it perfect? And perfect is an impossible goal, so...

The thing is, I have noticed that the times when I do strive for perfection, I am usually very happy with the results. The other day I went through Charlie's closet, put all the clothes that were too small into bins, and then put those bins in the attic. Along with the Christmas bins that have been sitting out for the past 3 weeks. Even before I vacummed (who are we kidding, I STILL haven't vacummed), I was thrilled with the results. I was so happy to be able to reach into her closet and not have to wonder if the pants I just grabbed are one of the pairs that are too short. And while her closet isn't perfect, and the organization of the bins in the attic isn't perfect either, I was happy. Maybe because it was done MY WAY. That is the best way, after all.

I try telling myself that as long as I don't wind up on the show Hoarders, I will be happy. But really, I would be SUPER HAPPY if everything had its place. And that place wasn't just a certain spot on the floor. Now I just need to get Workaholic on board to do things MY WAY. Because that really is the best way. At least in my head.

It's All About Communication

2012-01-18T23:32:00.000-06:00

Whenever younger people (you know, those twoppers...otherwise known as "twenty boppers) complain to me about their husbands, or parents, or siblings, I am infamous for telling them, (as if I am some wise old owl) "Communication is the #1 thing you need in order to make a relationship work."

Yep, just call me a cliche. And a marriage counselor. (I briefly considered switching my college major to something where I would be qualified to be a marriage counselor. I decided against it because #1: it would require grad school and #2: you can't finish undergrad and grad school in four years. Which was the college deadline ~~my parents~~ I had set for myself.)

I sort of pride Workaholic and I on our good communication. And by that, I mean that I know I tell him all the tiny, minute details of our lives that he needs to know in order to do everything I ~~want~~ need him to do in order to ~~make me happy~~ keep our house running smoothly.

However, I recently realized that I may have overestimated our excellent communication skills. He has started "forgetting" things that I know I have told him. I was convinced that he is losing his hearing, much like his father. (what I now know is that he has what is called "selective hearing" and apparently is quite common amongst married couples.) He will call and be like, "Did you say something to me about working late today?" After I have told him three times. In writing.

There also is this thing called "mommy brain", and I have it. I am the poster child for moms who can't remember where they put their car keys or if they fed their children or if they told their husbands that they have to work late and so someone needs to go home and take care of the kids.

So yeah...communication.

We took Sam's pacifier away from her about a week ago. I have not slept a full night in a week. If I am not randomly waking up for absolutely no reason at all (other than I am a mom), it is because Sam is crawling into our bed. It would seem that she makes it most of the way through the night, and then something would scare her and she would crawl into my bed. It has been driving me nuts. I've tried talking to her, and all she will tell me is that, "My light turns off and I get scared and so I have to get in bed with you." (She is terrified of the dark and sleeps not only with her closet light on and doors open, but the lamp on her dresser is nice and bright too.) Her light "turning off" makes absolutely no sense, since I swear when I get up in the morning, they are all still on. If not more lights than were on when I left the room the night before. I figured she was either telling me something backwards or manipulating me. Three year olds are crafty, you know.

After a colossal meltdown this morning, I felt just terrible about yanking her pacifier from her. I thought this had to be the reason for her recent strange behavior. It has been a crazy busy couple of months, I've been working a lot since the new year, and then we just deprive her of the single, solitary thing that makes her feel at peace. (OK, to be fair, she has blankets too, and dolls, and stuffed animals, but the pacifier seemed to be her favorite.)

So tonight, I caved. She saw a couple of pacifiers laying on a table that we had forgotten to hide, and she was on it like white on rice. I decided to let her go to bed with it. And yet, she fought me. She wanted me to lay with her, she wanted me to sleep with her, she didn't want to go to sleeeeep, she wanted to sleep in MY bed. (Umm...no. Kid, you have a damn binky, be happy.)

Later, I was telling Workaholic about how she was still a challenge to put to bed, and how I thought the problem with her lately was that we had taken away her pacifier without some cool story about the Pacifier Fairy coming and taking all the pacifiers to little babies who needed them. We just told her to suck it up and grow up. Such mean parents.

And then I told him (again) about how she was telling me (again) about how she comes down into my bed when "her light turns off". And how I just didn't understand that, because she always comes down in the morning, even before the sun rises, so she can't be confused and thinking that she is coming down when it is light out. And how I think she must really be having a problem with the busyness of the last month.

That was when Workaholic smiled sheepishly at me. OK, let's call a spade a spade. He damn well smirked at me. And then he says this, "Oh, I guess I had better stop turning off her lights when I leave for work in the morning, huh?" EXCUSE ME??? Then he says, "I don't turn off all the lights, just the lamp, and I leave on the overhead light on dim."

And it all makes sense. She hears him leave for work because the garage door wakes her up. She realizes that her lamp is off, the all-important BRIGHT LIGHT LAMP that she insists is on every night before we leave her room, (the closet light is no longer enough), she gets up, turns it on, and then comes down to sleep with me. Because she knows I won't walk her back to bed since she says she is SCARED OF THE DARK.

Sigh.

Communication, people. It is the cornerstone of a ~~happy~~ peaceful marriage.

(The sad part is, the more I think about it, the more I think I remember him telling me before that he did that. We'll just blame mommy brain.)

First SNOW!!

2012-01-12T22:41:00.000-06:00

We got our first REAL SNOW today...

Happy to get ready

Excited to go play!

Sam is still happy...Charlie is not so sure...

Believe it or not, Sam laughed after I took this. She loves the snow!

She Is Three

2012-01-11T21:46:00.000-06:00

Three years ago, I had just brought my baby daughter home. She was already Sam, not Samantha.

I wrote about her first year here.

I wrote about her second year here.

She has been here for three whole years. And she will tell you all about it.

She has recently, and by recently I mean yesterday, been weaned off of her pacifier. All we had to do was explain to her that she was now a big girl, she had her cup and her blanket, and she no longer needed her pacifier. And then reassure her (repeatedly) that all would be OK.

She is terrified of the dark. I think for some reason she has nightmares about trucks coming into the house...not exactly sure why, but she talks about it a lot.

She loves chocolate milk, and cookies, and brownies and candy. This is what happens when she has too much candy. Although sometimes that just happens, because she is high on life.

She is sweet, and adorable, and she knows how to get what she wants from who. Daddy and Oma are the easiest targets, me and new K are the hardest...although it really doesn't take much to sway me.

She remembers everything you tell her, so if you are going to take her to the zoo, you had damn well better plan on following through. She also remembers things that she has done at the most random of times. The other day she asked me if we could go to the fair, like she did that one time. (It was in August.)

She is the best big sister, and the past year has seen her grow leaps and bounds in that role. She infamously threw a bottle at Charlie's head the first time I took them in to visit my co-workers. But now she helps her and guides her and encourages her. "Good job sweetheart!" is frequently heard in my house.

Her smile lights up the room. Her laugh (and screams) echo throughout our house. Everyone who meets her loves her. Strangers even smile when they see her...especially when they see her talk to her little sister.

She talks...all the time.

"Hey, what's the big idea?"

"Mommy...where ARE you?"

"What a great idea!"

"I think I'll just play the iPad for a couple whiles."

"I wanna watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse on Disney Junior."

"NO KALE NO!"

When we are in Michigan, she'll often ask, "Can we go to Oma's Michigan?"

When she was opening her presents on her birthday, she popped off...

"I have to go potty, I'll be right back."

She jumped up, ran in to the bathroom, and came out a few minutes later, ready to open more presents. When I asked her what her favorite part of her birthday was, she told me "the princesses." (Girl loves Dairy Queen ice cream cake. The edible image was totally worth the extra 5 bucks.)

She makes me want to bang my head against the wall, she exhausts me and I can't keep up with her. But then, she smiles at me. And tilts her head, and I melt. The past year has seen her grow from a little toddler who talked a whole bunch but didn't say a whole lot, to an opinionated little girl who loves nail polish and Minnie Mouse and doing things her way. She can show you where anything is in our house, and just how to make chocolate milk.

For the most part, she is potty-trained. BUT, if she doesn't feel like wearing underwear and going through the arduous task of peeing and pooping in the potty, she is fully capable of changing her own diapers. Not pull-ups, actual diapers. And if there are no wipes available and she did #2, not to worry...she'll just use clothes.

I can't believe it has been THREE YEARS. My little baby girl is THREE. Her hair is finally long enough to pull back in a pony-tail, except for the bangs she cut herself and the lock on the side that she hacked off in the bathtub one night. She is THREE. I love her with all my heart. She is the coolest kid I know, and I can't wait for the next year just to see what she is going to do.

Happy Birthday little girl. I love you bunches and bunches and bunches!

She cut those bangs HERSELF.

3 Years

2012-01-09T15:07:00.000-06:00

I'll tell you more about it later, but PEOPLE!

I HAVE A THREE YEAR OLD!!!

I Am a Dumbass

2012-01-05T11:49:00.000-06:00

Have I ever told you about how slow I can be? Some things just don't come to my mind until way after the time when said thing could be helpful.

Or, as Jen Lancaster puts it, I can be a dumbass.

The day before Christmas Eve, I ran to Walgreens to get something. I honestly can't even remember what that something was. But, on my way out the door, I saw that they had Coke on sale. *cue heavenly music* because I was OUT of Coke, and that is just not a way to live life.

I grabbed a 12 pack and told the woman at the register to charge me for four. And she did. And I paid for them. And then I had Sam carry the little plastic bag with Workaholic's pomade (I remembered!) in it, and told her to stand RIGHT BY ME, since I couldn't hold her hand in the parking lot. I also handed her a dollar and told her to put it in the red ringing bell can. (is it the Salvation Army??)

Meanwhile, I am juggling FOUR 12 packs of Coke. And my purse. And trying to control a toddler. A couple of people had given me ~~you are insane~~ strange looks when we were headed out the door, and while Sam was ALL ABOUT putting the dollar in the can, she was NOT all about getting so close to the strange man or letting the nice woman who offered to help lift her up so she could reach. She finally threw the dollar on top of the can and the nice stranger woman put it in the slot. Yes, my timing for a lesson in those less fortunate could not have been more off.

We headed across the parking lot and she was very good and walked/skipped right next to me. And then we got to the van.

And that is where all hell broke loose. I dropped ALL 4 fridge packs of Coke on the ground BY ACCIDENT, and they split open and began to spray everywhere. I frantically tried to figure out which cans were bad and ~~threw~~ gently placed the remaining cans in the partially wet cardboard boxes onto the floor of my passenger seat. I probably lost 4 or 5 there in the parking lot. But I then ~~threw~~ gently strapped in Sam to her car seat and got the hell outta there.

When I got home, I realized that at least 2 more cans had been punctured that I didn't know about and now there was Coke all over my passenger floor. (Thank GOODNESS for my WeatherTech floor mats. Seriously, get those if you have kids or dogs or live in any part of the country where you will get in the car with wet/snowy/muddy boots, or like to drink coffee/Coke/Red Bull in your car. And NO, they didn't pay me to say that, although they are free to do so!)

As I took a couple of the packs out of the front of the car, they ripped from being soaked with Coke and their contents spilled all over my garage floor. I now had more empty cans of Coke, 2 useless and wet cardboard boxes that are meant to easily contain and carry Coke, and each and every can that I had left is now covered in sticky shit and dirt and half of them were dented from the fall. Great. Sam is yelling at me to clean up my mess, and she opened the door between the garage and the house to let the dogs out, who then get in my way as I am trying to bend over and see where all these damn cans have rolled and then Sam cries as they get in HER way and push her around in their excitement to see us me.

I gave up, grabbed a bag and ~~tossed~~ gently placed the remaining cans in it and cleaned up the floor of the van and went inside and took a nap.

As I was getting ready this morning, a good two weeks later, it occured to me that all I would have had to do to do avoid the whole situation was to GET A CART. They were within mere feet of me when I was piling the Coke into my arms, and yet all the people who saw me do it and gave me weird looks and the nice stranger lady who offfered to help Sam never thought to say, "Hey, why don't you use a cart?" And even Sam, who is the model of a "helpful" child, never said, "Hey mommy, why don't you use a cart?" (Why yes, I am blaming my 2 year old. Hey...she almost 3!)

If you ever see a dumbass trying to carry too much, and has a small child or dog or something with them, offer to get a cart. Or at least suggest the idea. You never know, it may not occur to them until 2 weeks later.

She Sleeps...and Sleeps...and Sleeps

2012-01-05T09:16:00.001-06:00

When Sam was 9 months old, she started daycare, and so started semi-regular ear infections. The first one was just terrible, with her laying on me, burning up, barely moving, moaning softly with a 103 fever. I finally took her to the doctor where she was diagnosed with "raging" double ear infections.

As time went on, her symptoms got more minor. Her fever didn't elevate quite as much, she rarely, if ever, pulled on her ears, and her energy level barely dipped. Other than the flu one time, ear infections were the only sickness she really got that slowed her down. At all.

Around the time she was Charlie's age, she touched her ear once, and then went to sleep...for 19 hours. I checked on her a few times, and each time she was still breathing and didn't wake up when I dared to enter her domain, so I let her sleep. And then I took her to the doctor, where she was diagnosed with a "mild" ear infection. The doctor said she was doing exactly what she needed to be doing, sleeping it off. (Let's just say that I took that doctor's advice whenever I feel myself getting sick...I promptly go to bed, and stay there until I feel better. And PEOPLE, I swear it works! I'm sick for a shorter amount of time!)

Fast forward to Charlie being 16 months old. She has been sick exactly maybe once in her life. We had a very great, but long weekend with friends where she didn't sleep her usual 18 hours a day. On Tuesday, new K woke her up at noon (from going to be at 7pm). And then she went back to sleep at 3:30...and slept until 9:30am the next day. 18 HOURS people...in one shot! So then they went and played and had a ball, and she was laid down for her nap at 2pm yesterday. She JUST got up! 19 PLUS hours! I guess she is sick.

I'm not sure why I am telling the internet this, except that I want it written down for me to remember in 5 years. Or come on, let's get real...5 minutes. My kids rock.

2011-12-22T13:37:00.000-06:00

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.

Mac Truck

2011-12-20T10:37:00.002-06:00

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.

I HAVE TO WRAP ALL OF THESE PRESENTS!!

AND THEN I HAVE TO KEEP 2 SMALL CHILDREN AND 1 PUPPY AND 1 CAT FROM UNWRAPPING THEM BEFORE CHRISTMAS!!

MY PHONE AND LAPTOP ARE FUCKING WITH ME!!!!!

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!"

So...Life Change?

2011-12-11T22:08:00.001-06:00

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 candy...like 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.

Aaannd...GO!

Just To Clarify

2011-12-09T00:24:00.001-06:00

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.

Yep, I Have the Bestest Kids

2011-12-07T21:40:00.000-06:00

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 on...how 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.

The Two Most Important Things

2011-11-30T09:18:00.001-06:00

To round out November, I'm going to get a little sentimental. Just for a minute.

The two most important things I am thankful for. My kids and my life.

I KNOW I KNOW. I cheated. I already said my kids. Tough.

There are plenty of times where I am ready to curl up in the fetal position and just let the kids win. They can trash a house in 2.5 seconds. They have more endurance than I ever did, and they know what buttons to push to get their way. Even Charlie. When they cry, I often roll my eyes and want to run away. Because even when they are hurt, it is 5 seconds of "I'M HURT!" and 3 minutes of "I AM REALLY PISSED OFF ABOUT GETTING HURT!!" And I can't do anything about them being pissed off.

But they are the reason I get up in the morning. They are the reason I work, the reason I smile. The reason I breathe. They make me want to pull my hair out, and then they wrap their arms around me and I feel my insides melt. I want to bury my head in their hair and breathe in their sweaty/shampoo scent and just stay that way forever. I love watching them play with their cousins and learn new things and just...enjoy life. Whoever said that kids make you young again was totally right. They remind you what is good about your life, when things have gotten so complicated you just want to sell everything you own and move in with the Duggars.

(Why the Duggars, you ask? Because they appreciate life. They realize what is important...family and faith. And even if they are insane for having 20 kids, at least they got the appreciate life part right.)

Before I had kids, Fonz was my baby. He was the reason I got out of bed in the morning...because there was no one else to take care of him but me. He taught me so much. Especially in the first two years, I applied a lot of my dog training experience to raising my kids. (Only time will tell if that worked out.)

So my dog and my kids remind me to appreciate life. My life. My awesome fucking life. As much as I can bitch and complain about how much Workaholic works, and having to take care of our house and dog vomit and kid poop and going to the grocery store and ~~not~~ making dinner and my job and anything else I can find to find fault with, I have a pretty damn awesome life. NO ONE's life is perfect. NO ONE. No one is perfect. I bitch and moan about my overbite and how I need to whiten my teeth and lose 30+ pounds. Everyone has struggles and barriers and challenges. But outside looking in, I have a fantastic life. And I appreciate it. I really do. I am SO thankful for it. Sometimes all you need to do is step back and take a deep breath and let all the little things go. Don't let them matter. Because really, it is the big things (in small, kid sized packages) that make life worth living.

So that is it. That is my 30 (29) things that I am thankful for.

Please be prepared for some major complaining in December and especially January, and be fully prepared to bitch slap me if I get too whiny.

What are you thankful for the most? Or the least?

Day 28

2011-11-28T19:30:00.001-06:00

On Saturday, a man who was an experienced pilot was taking his daughter back to college. Another daughter and a family friend accompanied them.

They didn't make it, crashing in poor weather in a soybean field.

As the daughter of a pilot, I am thankful this was never my family.

My sincerest and heartfelt condolences go out to the family and friends of those four victims, whose lives were tragically cut short.

Hug your kids and parents a little harder tonight.

16 Thru 27-Things I Am Thankful For

2011-11-25T13:43:00.001-06:00

16. My car. I have a black Toyota Sienna with tan (some might call it gray) leather interior. I love the way it drives, the space it has for our family, and how clean it is when Workaholic spills a Red Bull in it and spends hours cleaning it.

17. I am thankful for Workaholic's job. When work is good, everything is good. (except for my sanity) Work is very good right now.

18. My store credit cards. Because when I spend money on them, they send me coupons and free money. Fun!

19. My house. I know, I've bitched about it a lot. It is a lot to take care of. But so is any place you rest your head. I love the closets and the basement and the bonus room and my bathroom. Oh...my bathroom. I LOVE not having to share a vanity with Workaholic.

20. A list like this would not be complete without mentioning health. I am healthy. My husband is healthy. My kids are healthy. My parents are healthy (as far as I know...they don't like to talk about medical things) My sisters and their husbands and their children are healthy. Hell, even my pets are healthy. So yeah, I am thankful for that.

21. The iPad. Sam loves it. Like, loves it. We can use it as a babysitter, a reward, a punishment, a goal for her. I would never pay $500 for something like that for my kid to play on, but it was a gift, so YAY!

22. Food. Especially Thanksgiving food. Anything bland colored. Turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole, corn, dumplings, Tiebel's rolls, ice burg lettuce salad, and ranch dressing. Apparently sweet potatoes are pretty awesome too, but I can't say I eat those.

23. My neighborhood. While no place is absolutely perfect, there is a plethora of kids in my neighborhood. My neighbors are friendly and I would have no problem calling some of them and asking them to go into my house and check on something. It is safe and clean and we have a nice, big yard. What more can you ask?

24. Invisible Fence. Yep, Fonz sticks around to our house no problem. Kale? Not so much, he is a social butterfly with no regard to boundaries. The money I spent installing the Invisible Fence was worth it's weight in gold. I don't have to worry about Kale chasing golfers or my neighbor's kids (who are terrified of dogs) or, um, pooping, in someone else's yard.

25. Blogs. They fill my day and give me lots of crazy conversations that go something like... "I read a blog where a girl picked up and moved to Alaska in 3 weeks," or "A woman on a blog I read had triplets and depended on social media to not lose her mind...and I think it worked!:, or how another woman randomly got an idea and raised $20,000 to help families have a happy Thanksgiving. All from her blog. I doubt that others like dooce, Heather, or Mama Kat even know that I exist or read the stuff they write religiously. There are others like Pamela, Amber, and Jennifer who know I read their stuff. We all try to put ourselves out there, and we support each other, and really...who knew that complete strangers in far away places could do that for you?

26. WordFeud.

27. The recall function in Outlook. When you send an e-mail that you know is really shitty, you can try to recall it before the receiver knows what a total bitch you are. Actually, I really like the calendar in Outlook too. It is synced to my phone, which usually makes life helpful.

Stay tuned folks...only 3 more things to be thankful for. I better make them good! (hint:one of them is not my Starbucks barista)

For Your Enjoyment

2011-11-23T09:05:00.000-06:00

Today I am thankful that my kids have never done this. And yes, I know that they are totally capable.

(Apparently there is some controversy on the Internet that this was staged and is not real. Those people obviously are not parents of 2 young toddlers.)

Never Too Late to be a Tad Thankful

2011-11-16T09:16:00.001-06:00

I don't know if you've seen it, the people on facebook finding something to be thankful about every day. Around the 28th it should start to get interesting...they have already mentioned things like food, family and shelter, so they'll have to start being thankful for their local Starbucks barista or the fact that their toilet chose to work that day.

I'm not gonna lie, I was kind of annoyed when I saw that people were doing this. Thankfully, not too many of my friends decided to participate, so I feel as though I should make up the difference here on my blog.

Since it was the Ides of November yesterday, I'll do the 15 Things I am Thankful For. This is in no particular order, seeing as how I am sitting in my basement office contemplating whether or not I brushed my teeth today.

1. The ability and privilege to work from home. I am home literally every other day, and it was a long, hard fought battle at work to get this arrangement. There is something to be said for going into an office every 48 hours and conversing with people that you conspire with to make your company a profit. There is also something to be said for knowing that the next day, you don't have to hear the same voices in the background every minute and that you don't have to shower in the morning if you don't want to.

2. My pets. Sure, Kale can be a pain in the ass a lot of the times. And half of the time, you wonder where Fonz is. The other half of the time, you wonder where Sampson is. But in the morning and at night, all three snuggle up around me and give me the opportunity to pet down my blood pressure.

3. My bed. See above for morning and night.

4. My kids. Samantha and Charlotte have taught me that I can indeed endure pain. (Yes, I got an epidural, but I was in back labor before my knight in shining scrubs arrived.) They also have taught me that I have more patience than I ever thought I would, and that the patience does in fact run out. They are beautiful and smart and charming and have stolen my heart. And for that, I will be forever grateful. Even when there is poop on the floor and Kale is eating it and then Charlie decides to run and pee...at the same time. While not wearing a diaper.

5. Prozac. Because if the above situation would have happened pre-meds, I would have ran into my bed and cried and probably whacked the kids and the dogs and even Sampson, even though he did nothing wrong. Now I can deal. And even laugh about it.

6. My husband. Sure, he works a lot. Like, A LOT. Ask any of my neighbors. They will tell you. But he loves us, and everything he does is for us. He let me get another dog when everyone, including him, thought I was nuts. He doesn't yell at me when the house is a mess and there is no dinner because some days I just. can't. deal. He is my rock, and he is happy to do it. Plus, he makes me laugh. Like, A LOT. He knows just what I need, when I need it. And isn't too bashful to say so. Plus, there are a lot of light bulbs in our house that wouldn't get changed if it wasn't for him.

7. My DVR. And cable television in general. Not only does it provide a great baby sitter for the kids when I am trying to get work done or on the rare occasion I am making dinner, but it provides me great entertainment as well. NCIS, Parenthood, NBC5 news, (how you doin' Matt Rodewald?), How I Met Your Mother re-runs, Hoarders *shudder*, and the opportunity to watch my Purdue sports when I can't attend in person. I would be bored if I had no TV. Either that, or I might be more well read.

8. The internet. I have learned so much from the www that it is ridiculous. I hear stories of other people's ways of life (like the Pioneer Woman), stories of how common stillbirth actually is, what to do for heartburn, and how to get the skunk smell out of dog's fur. It also has greatly enhanced my ability to buy lots of crap that I may or may not need in a short amount of time.

9. Michigan...the state, the lake, the cottage, the boats, the friends we have there. I love Michigan. I especially love our new cottage, and the couches in it, and my bed in it, and my kitchen in it, and the front yard. I am thankful that our friends put up with my kids and dogs, and for all that my in-laws have done to help us enjoy our life there.

10. My phone. Sure, sometimes I want to throw my Droid 2 against the wall and switch to the new iPhone with AT&T. But really, my phone has enabled me to be more addicted to the internet and Twitter and Facebook and blogs and checking the weather and traffic and e-mail at any time. And anything that helps with addiction is clearly something to be thankful for.

11. My ability to use proper grammar and spelling. I know the difference between they're, there and their; wine and whine; lose and loose; through and threw; your and you're; although I will admit sometimes its and it's throughs me threw a lupe.

12. Drive thrus. I don't know how we would eat half the time it wasn't for fast food restaurants and the capability to get your food without getting out of your car. I just wish there was a drive thru for milk and bread.

13. Family. Like, all of them. The sisters, the brother-in-laws, the cousins (hundreds of them!) the aunts and uncles, the nieces and nephews, and of course the parents of both me and Workaholic. Each and every one of you has made a special impression on my life. From my cousin I showed in my last post cuddling with his daughter, I learned how to have a good time and enjoy yourself. (hint: it starts with Busch Light) And he also taught me that even if for years and years you make mistakes and don't know what to do with your life, it is never too late to become a great husband and father. (OK wife and mother) I have so many family members, blood and not, who reach out at just the right time and remind me of who I am. And for that I am forever grateful.

14. My friends. You know that saying that you can't pick your family, but you can pick your friends? There is a reason for that saying. Because when your family pisses you off and makes you cry, you pick up the phone and call your friends. And they agree with whatever you are saying and sigh with you and say, "That is why you can't pick your family." And then they tell you a story about their own family that is so. much. worse. And you laugh and feel better. I have friends near and far, and they are there for me. No matter what.

15. Coca-Cola Classic. I know, I know, I should end with something sweet and sentimental. But I get all sentimental when I taste that bubbly sweetness sliding down my throat. Mmmm...

What are you thankful for?

Between Here and There

2011-11-15T08:00:00.000-06:00

A few weeks ago, I wanted to show you all this picture.

It is a tree down the street I drive every day. The photo wasn't perfect, and I couldn't per-fect it, so I decided not to write this post.

This post about fall. Fall. The season where the leaves fall off the trees, after they change colors. (at least that is what I am teaching Sam)

This tree is one of the first to change every year. For about a week, or less, it is a brilliant shade of yellow. So beautiful. For that week, I drive past that tree twice a day and want to smile. Sometime I do, and sometimes I don't.

Because then all the leaves fall. And just like that, it is ugly.

Every year, I am torn between whether or not I like fall. Because it means that winter is coming. Snow. Cold. Dark dreary days that never end, but never really begin because there is so little daylight.

But there is beauty, like the tree down the street. And the others that follow, turning brilliant shades of red and orange and yellow, before blowing away in a cool autumn breeze. Or, as was the case this year, wind gusts reaching 60mph.

I am trying to like fall this year, trying to remember the happy parts of winter. SNOW!!! (maybe we'll get another Snowpocalypse!) Snowmobiling, dogs frolicking in the snow, fires, french onion soup, quiet and peaceful weekends at the lake, and family time on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Then there are the stress of the holidays, the inevitable weight gain, crappy driving conditions, coats coats and more coats, wiping wet dog paws every time they go in and out, picking ice out of dog paws every time they go in and out, slush, Christmas shopping at the mall (not if I can help it!), and the longevity of winter. It is just. so. long.

So I took this picture, a perfect example of fall and winter. Brilliant colors with dark, dismal, bare branches. Is it spring yet?

A Family Wedding

2011-11-14T16:33:00.001-06:00

Did I ever tell you that my parents are from Southern Indiana? My mom's family is huge, my dad's is not. When someone in my mom's family gets married, it's a damn event.

We made a quick trip down this weekend for my cousin's daughter's wedding. She is 23, so so young, but so so smart and beautiful. I have only met her new husband a time or two, but if she picked him, he must be something special.

In the middle of the ceremony, Sam started to throw a fit. I dragged her butt out of church before trying to figure out what she was saying in that 2 year old whiny voice that is super loud and echo-y in churches. Especially Catholic churches with hardwood floors. Yeah.

As it turns out, all she wanted was to see the bride "in her pretty dress." She couldn't see because, well...she is 2, and we were near the back of the church, and there were people in front of us. So I promised her that we would see her up close and personal, and even take a picture with her. I have connections, you know.

The time came at the reception for a picture to be taken.

Please ignore my crazy eyes.

Notice how Sam was all, "Why are you making me do this?" And how she is holding someone's cell phone? That is because she realized running around like a banshee was waaay better than taking a stupid picture with a girl in a pretty dress. The cell phone was a bribe. (Shut up...you'd do it too.)

The wedding was a great time, kicked off by the bride and groom walking down the aisle at the end to the Purdue fight song. Hail, Hail to Old Purdue, All Hail to our Old Gold and Black. And yes, I sang. And clapped. And so did my mom.

I got back to the hotel about 1am after sending Workaholic home with the girls. The mother of the bride gave me a ride, which is totally normal when I look back on my childhood. My cousins were always taking care of me. Why should last Saturday be any different? Just because I am 33 years old?? (for some reason, that town brings out the drunkard in me)

I had to take this picture of an uncle of the bride with his daughter. I idolized this man when I was a kid, and I'm so happy he has a daughter to snuggle with.

In all seriousness, I had a fantastic time. And I would like to thank the family for putting on such a great shin-dig. (Sunday, however, was another story.) This is my cousin (mother of the bride) and her husband (father of the bride). And the adorable flower girl is only 3 months older than Sam, and her mom is totally fine with bribing too. (she ran down the aisle toward her new Barbie doll)

Can you say cougar?

Sam had so much fun, this is her when we got home on Sunday. She stole Charlie's pacifier and didn't even make it upstairs. This was after a 4 hour drive. Sampson is her best friend only when she is asleep.

I'll leave ya'll with a photo of the people who started it all, my mom and her siblings. Thanks for procreating and loving each other so much.

Someone Else Says It Best

2011-11-10T16:13:00.001-06:00

I really, really wanted to write something about what has been happening at Penn State over the past few days. If you believe the rumors out there, it could be about to get much, much worse.

I read the grand jury indictment, in it's entirety, last night. It was like a train wreck, I couldn't stop, even though you knew what was coming before it was written. Eight victims, EIGHT. And there are sure to be more. (I believe there may be nine now.) Jerry Sandusky systematically preyed, hunted, and attacked little boys. Boys the age of my nephews. Boys who thought he was a hero. And lots and lots of people knew about it. Yet nothing. happened. Until now.

One of my favorite bloggers, MODG, is a Penn State alum. As is her husband. They met at a tailgate. And I think she puts a very unique perspective on how many people are feeling. People who went to school's with rich traditions, schools that helped form who you are as a person, and how you feel when your school lets you down. Go...read what she has to say.

I don't think I need to rant about why it was the right thing to do to fire Joe Paterno. You can argue semantics about how and when it was done, but in the end, little boys were molested. They were lured, bribed, abused, and ...let down by their heros. Grown men should have known better.

I would say that the overwhelming feeling I have right now is...sad. Just as MODG describes it.

More Screaming

2011-11-09T20:36:00.000-06:00

As it turns out, Sam isn't the only one who likes to scream.

Charlie wakes up from her nap every afternoon, and new K goes in and changes her diaper. Before she even takes her off of the changing table, Charlie starts crying. She knows what is coming.

New K will put her on the floor and say, "Come on Charlie, let's go downstairs."

And then this happens.

We are mean, terrible people.

(For the record, if you were to pick her up, she would stop instantly. Of course I didn't pick her up, because I was too busy recording her.)

Sleep All Night? What is that?

2011-11-08T15:58:00.000-06:00

I have two older sisters, each with four kids.

One of them has twins.

I remember her telling me after the twins were born that once you become a mom, you never get a full night's sleep ever again. I told her that I would train my children to sleep because I need my sleep. Besides, they would be just like me, and love their beds and love to sleep.

She said that no matter how great of sleepers your kids are, for one reason or another you don't get to sleep all night.

And damn it. She was right.

Both of my kids are champion sleepers. It isn't uncommon for Charlie to go to bed at 7:30pm and not get up until 11am. She'll play for a little while in her crib in the morning, but always falls back asleep before letting us know she is ready to get up.

Sam has been a bit more of a challenge to get to bed lately, and she is up by 8am at the latest. Which isn't bad, don't get me wrong, but I'm telling you, my sleep problems have little to do with my kids.

Typically, I wake up every night at least once. Sometimes I roll over and look at the clock and think "WTF...why am I awake? It is 3am!" And promptly fall back asleep.

Last night I woke up around 3am, Workaholic was getting up to go to work. I listened to the TV from the bathroom, heard him walk out to the kitchen to get milk and cookies (breakfast of champtions) and smiled to myself as he carried Sam in to lay in bed with me.

(She had gotten up when she heard him too and climbed in bed with me. I sent her out to tell him good-bye just to hear his reaction at seeing her at 3:30 in the morning.) Then I changed her diaper and we both went back to sleep, her on his side of the bed and me on mine.

I wish I could get a full night's sleep.

I like to tell myself that I would be much more willing to get out of bed before 7am and start my day if I had slept the previous 8 hours straight. (just let me believe...)

I'm hoping that one day I'll sleep straight through the night again, someday.

Sam's Sayings

2011-11-04T15:03:00.000-05:00

Little kids say the damndest things. Here are just a few things that Sam has said to me lately.

"Mom, I'm leaving. You be good. And be careful. And have fun."

"Mom, here is a piece of paper. These are your markers. Only draw on the paper, don't draw on yourself. If you draw on yourself, I'll take away your markers, because drawing on yourself is bad."

"Mom, this is MY work. Don't bother me when I am working, because that is NOT nice. You work on your work, and I'll work on my work."

"That's such a great idea!" (usually referring to something she thought up)

"Awww...that is sooo cute!" (complete with little girl high-piched squeaky voice)

(talking to Sampson)
"Sampson, you are such a good kitty. I'll pet you nice and that way you won't scratch my face or bite me."

She was talking to 2 tax assessors I let in my house the other day (don't get me started on how bright it was of me to let complete strangers into my house) and when they asked her the cat's name, her response was something like this...

"This is Sampson. We had another cat too. But FelixRoger doesn't live here anymore. He didn't like it here. He lives down the street. He didn't like it here so he went and moved down the street."

The next two are a tie for my personal favorites.

"Don't you say no to me!"

"Mom, I just love you so much."

OK, maybe there isn't a tie.

Halloween: Part Two

2011-10-31T20:53:00.001-05:00

I didn't have either battery in my cameras charged. On Halloween. Mom FAIL. (my sisters will say it is hereditary)

Sam was Minnie Mouse for Halloween.

Charlie was Alice in Wonderland for Halloween.

She never really stopped moving, this was the best picture I could get.

Sam peed herself while Trick-or-Treating and so that made for an early night.

Charlie spent most of the evening after they got home screaming at me because she wanted more candy. Girl after my own heart.

Sam did this earlier in the day, earning herself a bath.

Charlie has decided that she is never ever ever going to bed again.

Hope ya'll had a great Halloween!!

Halloween: Part One

2011-10-31T13:18:00.000-05:00

My office had Trick-or-Treating last Friday.

No, I don't have any good super cute pictures of my kids in their Halloween costumes. I'll try again later today.

I do have this video of Sam, taken after she had about 20 minutes of unsupervised time with her C-A-N-D-Y.

To get the full effect, you have to have your volume turned up.
Disclaimer: To get the full effect, you have to have your volume turned up.

What? She likes to scream.

See Ya Felix

2011-10-25T15:43:00.000-05:00

So, I accidentally adopted a cat. I named him Felix. Workaholic named him Roger.

3 hours after I brought Felix home, Sampson was found. Yay for Sampson! Not so yay for Felix.

It isn't that there was anything wrong with Felix, I just didn't want two cats. Especially if one of the cats was going to be inside all the time, as that means the litter box (s) have to be cleaned out a lot more often. And I hate litter boxes.

So I let him go outside. Felix, that is. Sampson always goes outside, and generally, for the most part, he finds his way home. Except for that one time when he didn't and I went out and took in another cat.

So one night, I see Felix and Sampson and Fonz and Kale outside, and it was a nice night, and so me and the girls decide to take a walk. I was going to take the dogs, but didn't want Felix following us. He didn't need to expand his horizons. (or so I thought)

I tried to catch him, and of course the damn cat didn't want to be caught. He ran under my deck. At which point I said, "Fuck it", and left him home.

Or so I thought.

Instead of staying home, Felix followed us. At a great distance, but he followed us. All the way to the end of my street. (which, to be fair, is only about 6 houses down) Again, I tried to catch him, because I like my neighbors and I didn't want a~~nother~~ black cat ~~stalking their houses~~ pooping in the yards. But the damn thing refused to be caught. And I refused to chase a stupid cat.

So I let him go. And sort of forgot about him.

After the weekend, I realized he was still gone, and promptly forgot about him again. A couple of days later, I started taking more walks to the end of my street, and finally one of my neighbors asked if I was looking for my black cat. I hung my head and admitted that yes, I was indeed looking for my black cat. Not the one I have that always comes home (except for that once) but a new one. Who apparently doesn't know his way home.

And this is when something happened and I decided I didn't care if he pooped in her yard. She told me that she had been feeding him. And letting him sleep in her garage. No wonder he didn't come home! Let's see...his choices were either a) have free roam of several rodent infested yards and free food and a warm/dry place to sleep at night, or b) being locked up in a house with 2 dogs, 2 kids, and another cat who hates you. Hell, I'd choose A too!

This neighbor stopped short of saying that she wanted to keep Felix, but she offered to bring him down whenever she found him. (Little did I know that meant that she would walk down, put him in my yard, and then he would follow her home.) She actually said that she would love to keep him, but she was allergic. I made no secret of my desire to re-home the adorable little kitty, but knew ultimately he was still mine.

Fast forward another few weeks and I have only seen him once for a couple of days because another neighbor called when he saw him. I had long before made an appointment at the vet for Felix to get a booster shot, and it was time to take him in. I walked down to my neighbor's yard and looked for him, and shamefully rang the doorbell to see if she had seen him.

And guess what? The reason why he wasn't outside in the yard was because he was inside her house! He had food and water dishes and a litter box and he slept with her every night! He even brought her dead mice as gifts! Every day!

I was so overjoyed I couldn't be annoyed that my neighbor basically stole my cat. I took him to the vet, and immediately returned him to her, with paperwork. All she had to do is send in his microchip paperwork stating he is hers, and I am back to one cat. Wa-hooo!!!!

Regressed

2011-10-21T10:26:00.001-05:00

Do you remember way at the end of last year when I was all, "I'm going to simplify my life." ? Yeah...I sort of regressed.

I knew at the time that the Simplification Project wasn't really going to work. I knew that there was a good chance that my husband would be taking on a HUGE project to do in his "spare time", and that project indeed did happen.

So the past 9 months have been a whirlwind of constant work for my poor husband. We did get away to Puerto Rico for a long weekend, and there have been other occasional days off here and there, but for the most part, him and his dad have been working 7 days a week since the beginning of February.

In the past 9 months, (since I am sooo smart) I pretty much gave up any sense of simplifying. I got another dog. I got another cat. (I gave away the 2nd cat the other day, wa-hoo!!!!) I've shopped relentlessly, to the exhaustion of my credit cards and bank account. My house was bursting at the seams with disorganization. But since Workaholic has "slowed down", things have gotten better. (Slowed down being relative, he now is working 6 days a week instead of 7, and usually only 12 hour days instead of 15.) He gets in these moods where he just does a clean sweep. Often that means putting things in closets and drawers, instead of sitting out on the counter. But it looks so. much. better.

Lately I've had a nasty case of writer's block. Of course, I only get it when it is time to sit down and write. When I am wandering around my house, folding laundry, or in the shower, or trying to sleep, I write the most greatest fan-tab-u-lous posts in my head. I tell you all these funny stories about what the girls or dogs or cats have done and people post it on Twitter and I get a gillion new followers.

What are those funny stories, you ask? Umm....well, there was the day that Sam took a brand new bottle of baby powder and emptied it. In her room. On her carpet. And herself. (How does a 2 year old get baby powder on her back??) Or there was the time that Kale was running into the house, at full speed, and didn't realize that the sliding glass door was closed. THUMP! And then ~~one~~ three nights Charlie pooped in the bathtub. Twice. Each time. (She hasn't had a bath since, showers all the way now. Although she still poops in the shower. Gross.) And Sampson. Well, he really hasn't done anything funny or cute lately. He is just being his dog/cat self. Which is pretty cool. I am quite interested in seeing how he handles the (much) colder weather and the snow, if he'll still want to go out as much. Felix, the new cat, found himself a new home down the street. So that was awesome. I dropped him off for the last time the other day. His new owner's daughter told me that the cat is now at the top of the list, as in...#1-cat, #2-dog, #3-kids, #4-husband. As it should be.

There also are not-so-funny stories. Fonz turned 12 last month. I knew he would get old. I did, I swear. But it makes me so sad seeing it happen. In the past year, he has dropped about 10lbs. I increased his food, and he gained maybe a pound. He had his annual well visit with our beloved vet Dr. P, and she noticed muscle loss in his hind end. Which helps to explain why his back legs give out on him sometimes. She also did the nerve test where you flip over his feet and see how long it take to right them. He didn't right his left hind foot. Workaholic says it is because he is so obedient, we put his foot in a position that he was waiting for permission to flip it. (Of course, I couldn't replicate it when I was showing Workaholic, so maybe he is right!) But that also explains the weakness in his back end.

Fonz is also now almost completely deaf. He can't hear you when you call, it is super easy to startle him when you walk up behind him, and when I give him commands, it has to be hand signals. Otherwise he just ignores me. (Good thing I taught him those years ago.) He has this weird tremor thing going on too. Every once in a while, he'll just be standing or laying there, and his head starts to tremble. It only last a second or two, but he is definitely unstable at that point. And can't move. Dr. P says that it could be seizures or just a palsy thing. Whatever that is. It makes me sad. I don't like it, not one little bit.

I know that Fonz's symptoms could have been gradually coming on for a while now, especially the deafness. But it just seemed to hit me like a brick wall this summer. First there was the mysterious toe infection. Then an ear infection. Then pneumonia. When all of that seemed to go away, he started trembling and completely not listening. Sigh. I am hoping he'll just stay the course now for the next couple of years. I don't expect his hearing to come back, or for his nerves to magically repair themselves. But hopefully things don't get any worse.

On a bright note, Halloween is coming! And the leaves are changing colors and being all beautiful! On a not-so-bright note, um...winter is coming. I can handle the snow. I can, really. What I can't handle is the cold that snow requires. And the length of winter. Why can't summer be as long as winter? It just seems to last for-ev-er. And ever and ever and ever.

Next Friday I am taking the girls in to my office for our annual Trick-or-Treating at work. I love it. The little kids all look so damn cute, and the girls have adorable costumes this year. I did NOT sync their costumes, one has absolutely nothing to do with the other, there are plenty of years left for that. So I'll be sure to post super duper cute little girl costume pictures. Because my girls are cute. Or did you not know that?

OK folks, enough update for one day. I'll try to post tomorrow. I am going to Purdue football homecoming, so that may not actually happen, but we'll see. I'll try. I'll try to come up with a good story. And actually write it down instead of ~~keeping~~ losing it in my head.

Sampson, Roger and Felix. And Kabo.

2011-09-21T10:11:00.000-05:00

Workaholic decided that it was time for Sampson and Felix to become friends.

So he locked them on the back porch together. (it is screened in)

And you know what? It was OK.

So Felix has been settling in nicely. He will randomly walk around meowing, like he is bored and isn't sure what to do. Or he is lost and doesn't know where anyone is.

There are 2 disturbing things about Felix.

1) We've been calling him Roger. It sort of fits. So I now use his name interchangably. It is OK, because he really doesn't know either of them. Not sure why.

2) Roger is a night owl. Last night he woke me up at midnight by bolting off of our bed and out of the bedroom. I was OK with that until I heard him sliding across the hardwood floor. And then the meowing started.

Felix likes to go outside. I am not particularly thrilled about this, seeing as how I am sure my neighbors are really not wanting 2 black cats wandering the street. (Especially with Halloween coming up. I have a feeling my house is going to be the most popular on the block.) The thing about Felix going outside is that he comes back, like...regularly. He checks back in, as if to say, "Hey, remember me? You chopped my balls off?? Where is the food?" I am not really used to this, as Sampson will often be gone all day. But it is nice, not having to wonder. (notice I didn't say worry)

Let's recap...
Felix is now Roger. Sometimes.
Roger likes to go outside. And meow when he is confused.
Sampson did not kill Felix, and Kale is learning not to try to kill either of them.

Kabo is 12 today. Happy birthday old man.

Pictures of Felix!

2011-09-19T13:45:00.000-05:00

Without further ado...I present Felix!

Remember, he is up for adoption...FREE TO GOOD HOME!

The One Where I am an Idiot

2011-09-12T21:49:00.000-05:00

There is something you have to understand about me. I preach responsibility to animals. Like, I lecture people on it. Which probably gives off a very bad vibe, but sometimes I just can't help it. I have no problem telling people that they really shouldn't get a new pet if I think they can't afford it. Because working at a vet office was awful when a sick animal came in and the people were like, "I have no money." So yeah, I preach it.

Fast forward to me getting a cat. And not getting him declawed, because I really don't like that and I was really hoping he'd want to spend some time outside. And the kitty would need to be able to climb trees and defend himself from, well, whatever decides to stalk him. As much as I liked having a cat I can say I rescued, I knew that if he went missing it was probably as a meal for a coyote. (That didn't stop me from letting him out when he wanted to go, because I really detest the cleaning of the litter box.)

Fast forward to 3 1/2 weeks ago, our little Sampson saw the bags, meaning we'd be leaving town and he'd be stuck in the house, and he high-tailed it (literally) out the garage door. I threw up my hands and said, "Let him eat mice for 4 days."

And then about a week and a half went by, and no Sampson. I asked my neighbors, but no one had seen him, so I reported him lost to the company that manages his microchip. And someone saw the lost pet bulletin with his picture and saw a picture of a found cat on Craig's List, and called us. I was convinced. This was my cat. How he got miles away, I had no idea, but that was my cat.

I finally got a hold of the woman who had the cat, and got directions to her house. I walked into her garage and was like, "Sampson!" And the cat sort of just looked at me. And I picked him up and he snuggled me, and I thought, "Hmm...I'm not sure this is Sampson." His eyes were greener than I remembered, the tip of his tail wasn't lighter than the rest of him from him sucking on it, and the patch of white fur near his crotch was, well, bigger. And his purr wasn't squeaky. I was fairly certain this wasn't Sampson. (Oh yeah, and he was intact, but I didn't notice that until too late.)

However, I wanted to be sure. I wanted to get this cat scanned for a microchip, since Sampson had one. I also was pretty sure Sampson was not coming home, and had no real objections to getting a new cat. Who looked just like the old one. Isn't that what parents do when the kids' cat disappears? So I stuffed him in a carrier and took him.

Needless to say, the cat I stuffed in my carrier was NOT Sampson. (should have checked for balls) I was conflicted on what to do. Keep him? Drop him at a shelter? Give him back to the woman who found him, who would keep him outside and allow him to continue populating the earth with too many kittens? As it turns out, the decision was made for me, since our local shelter went no-kill and they had no room for this little black cat. I couldn't turn my back on the blue ribbon on the back of my van that says "Please Spay and Neuter". So I did the next most logical thing...I took him to my vet.

Once they realized what I wasn't asking them to take this cat permanently, but simply take him and vet him (with me paying the bill), they stopped laughing at me and were more than happy to take him off my hands for a couple of days. I just wanted them to neuter him, get him up to date to on his shots, and test him for feline leukemia. (negative) They laughed some more, and then took him to the back.

48 hours later, I went to pick up the new cat. I had decided I was stuck with him, so might as well make the best of it. (and then I saw my vet bill, ahh!)

Three hours later, a woman from a couple blocks away called, "I think I have your cat."

You gotta be shitting me.

Sampson apparently either forgot how to get home or decided this lady's chair on her back porch was much more comfortable and less stressful than my house with 2 little kids and a puppy who stalked him constantly.

I now have two cats.

I don't want two cats.

I am already sick of cleaning out the litterbox every day, and it has only been 3 days.

My desire to not be a gigantic hypocrite got me a second cat. And so I have decided to do an act of charity for the wonderful people of the Region.

Anyone want a cat? For free??

He is very sweet, very affectionate, he just wants love and attention. And perhaps a little playtime. He is probably a little less than a year old. He weighed 7lbs 13 oz when he spent some time with my friends at the vet. He is vocal when he is hungry or would like some petting. Otherwise he isn't a constant meow-er.

He definitely needs more individual attention than I think my house can give him. I've decided to call him Felix, because he deserves a name, and also because it means "lucky" in French. Or so says google. And this is one damn lucky cat to have been taken in by me.

This is the only picture I have, which isn't of Felix, it is of Sampson. (I can't get him to hold still long enough to get a good picture. I will keep trying though.) But he looks a lot like Sampson. But with greener eyes. And honestly, (don't tell Sampson I said this) he is a little cuter. I also have never seen the expression on his face of "I will kill you in your sleep." Like Sampson is wearing in this picture.

Seriously...if you want him, and can provide a good home for him, e-mail me! Felix does have all 4 sets of claws, and his microchip is all ready to be registered. Free to good home!!

For My Uncles

2011-08-28T23:05:00.001-05:00

My parents grew up in a small town in southern Indiana. My dad lived in town, while to get to where my mother grew up, you drove out of town. Past the high school, the baseball field and the church. Past the cornfields and the cemetary where my grandparents and aunts and uncles were to be buried. And you took a windy country road to the farm.

That road cut between two hills, and up on those hills were two houses that my uncles built. Every day, they drove their farm trucks down to my grandparent's house, the one they each grew up in with my mother, and met my grandfather to discuss the tasks at hand for the day for the farm.

When I was little and we would go to the farm to visit my grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins, I would drag my butt out of bed at what seemed like the crack of dawn to go to the morning meeting. I loved hearing the squeaky door open as each of my uncles and several of my cousins would come in to sit at the table or on the couches underneath the picture window that overlooked the buildings that housed hogs and hay.

I was THAT little kid, the one who wanted to tag along but not actually help do anything. And you know what? They let me. I was the baby, the youngest of the 27 grandchildren, and while the oldest of the 27 were made to help harvest corn and pick melons, as the baby I was allowed to ride in the truck and watch as they fed the cows. They let me ride the tractor, and talked to me about whatever it was I wanted to talk about. As far as I knew, they never thought twice about it.

When my first uncle passed away a couple of years ago, I vividly remember sitting a couple of rows behind his only son during the funeral Mass. And during the Sign of Peace, my cousin turned to our uncle, the one who he had worked side-by-side with most of his life, and hugged him and they both cried. In that moment of time, in that church, they alone knew what the other was feeling. Each of them knew the sense of loss the other felt from losing a loved one. Not just a brother and a father, but one that they worked next to every. single. day. They all poured their blood, sweat, and tears into the farm, and now they had to continue without him being there with them every. single. day.

My second uncle passed away last week.

As I thought about his life I couldn't help but think past my childhood. The more recent years, when he spent a lot of time with his 11 grandchildren, both on and off the farm. The vacations they took, the countless hours he sat on bleachers cheering them on in their respective sports. The absolute love he poured into his family.

Looking at the pictures displayed at the funeral home, I saw the love he had for my aunt, and the adoration she had for him. You could see it in their eyes in every picture. Whether she was gazing up at him or genuinely smiling like she was laughing, after 48 years of marriage, her smile remained the same...that of a teenage girl in love. He had an impish smile, and rarely looked directly at the camera, but usually off to the side, probably at someone who had just cracked a joke at him right before the camera flashed.

What sucks the most about death, and what struck me when I saw my cousin hugging his uncle 2 years ago, is that you don't worry about the person who has passed. You know that they are in a great place, smiling down at you and out of pain. What sucks the most about death are those who are left behind. Those who never get to feel the physical presence of their father, husband, uncle, grandpa, or brother ever again. All they have are memories, and you always wish you had had more time to make more memories.

They were taken from us too soon. Any one of my relatives will tell you that. They may have led full lives, but they are gone too soon. And now, I can't help but think of that windy country road. And those two houses, built up on hills across from each other. And the women who now live in them alone, without the loves of their lives. And that is what saddens me the most.

These two men, the men who took over the farm that my grandfather began, were great men. They led by example, much like my uncle and aunt who have also passed on to Heaven. They showed their family and friends how to behave and act like true Christians, simply by living their lives. I will never forget them, and I know that no one else will either.

There was laughing!

2011-08-24T09:59:00.000-05:00

I'm not exactly the most hands-on mom.

By that, I mean, I really encourage my kids to entertain themselves. I have important shit to do, like laundry and dishes and read Scary Mommy Confessions.

When I got pregnant with Charlie, the first thing that people said to me when they realized that I would have two kids under the age of two was, "Oh, they'll be SUCH good friends!" And then Charlie arrived.

Sam LOVED her baby sister from day one. And by LOVED, I mean she head-butted her with love, she laid on top of her love, and she stole all of her shit love. I was beginning to doubt that these two would ever get along, since we simply could not teach Sam what it was to be NICE to her little sister.

And then yesterday happened. As per usual, I had the kids in the room with me while I put away a dozen pairs of shoes and some clothes I forgot we owned. (Yes, my kids wear the same clothes over and over, never wearing the super duper incredibly cute shit hanging in the closet with the tags on.)

And it happened.

Charlie walked over to Sam who was sitting on the ground. And she full on tackled her. I look over and both of them are giggling and there is NO SCREAMING. And then Sam started tickling Charlie and laying on top of her and there was MORE GIGGLING.

Holy shit.

People were right. They will play together. They will get along. I know there are many more fights and screaming and crying to come, but at least I know now, there will be laughing too.

Loss

2011-08-23T23:00:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, the world lost my uncle.

My family lost my uncle.

My aunt lost her husband, my cousins lost their father, and my cousin's kids lost their grandpa.

He was only a year older than my mom.

I am sure that he got mad, but I don't remember ever seeing it. I also am sure that many of my cousins who are older than me probably did.

He worked on the farm his whole life. First with his father and his brother, and then with his nieces and nephews and his son. The stories my cousins tell of working on the farm, I am surprised anyone made it to adulthood. I am sure they are not exaggerated at all.

When I met Workaholic, I decided to bring him to a family wedding after dating a few short months. And my uncle declared himself Morality Patrol since we were all staying in a hotel. It is safe to say that nothing happened that night with MP trolling the hallways. For years after, Workaholic would refer to that uncle as Morality Patrol. (What can I say, I have a big family...it is hard to remember everyone's names.)

Last Christmas, I decided that I wanted to go to Southern Indiana for Christmas Day, just like I did as a kid. I had missed the last few years, since my immediate family celebrates on Christmas Eve, and I would spend Christmas Day with Workaholic's family.

It was a rather uneventful day, chatting it up with family and enjoying some good, home cooked dumplings. What I remember the most (as does Workaholic) is the next morning. My aunt and uncle invited us over for breakfast. What I didn't realize is that of the 27 grandchildren, I was the only one invited.

It was a breakfast for the siblings, my mom and her brothers and sisters. My youngest aunt made sausage and white rice, and scrambled eggs and biscuits and gravy. After we ate (and ate and ate) Workaholic turned to me and asked when I was going to learn to cook like that. It was damn good.

Samantha played her usual charming self and Charlie napped while we sat around the table and talked. We talked and talked. They couldn't understand why I would talk about poop on the internet, much less my own constipation during pregnancy. They didn't believe me when I told them that Elvis died of constipation. One of my aunts offered to take out her dentures, and they all asked me what was so gross about your parents having sex. (Really, you have to ask??)

It was a very nice time. I left there thinking, "I really need to get down here more often."

That was the last time I was at my uncle's house when he was alive. I will forever be grateful for them inviting me to that breakfast.

Because now? Now we all have to live with a hole in our lives. It is a very difficult concept for me to grasp, that his family will never see him again. Hug him again. Laugh with him again. His younger grandchildren won't get to really know what a great guy he was. His older grandchildren will miss spending time with him, talking sports and making him proud when they played.

We'll all miss him. We all love him. We are all better people for knowing him.

One Year

2011-08-18T14:11:00.000-05:00

This? Was a year ago. (OK, let's be honest, a year and 5 days ago)

This? Was a couple of weeks ago.

Yes, it is true, my baby Charlotte Mae is now one year old.

I can't believe it has been a year. I am a mom of two little girls. Who have the faintest of red hair.

And my little Charlie? Is an awesome kid, if I do say so myself.

She cuddles, she WALKS, she loves stuffed and animals and real animals alike. Her and Kale get along fabulously. Which is to say that they fight over his toys. (She may or may not have gotten caught recently eating dog food, chewing on a previously chewed rawhide bone, and feeding Kale her afternoon snack. And dinner. And breakfast.)

She can say Hiii, and MOMMY, and apparently Daddy too, although I have yet to hear that one. Since everyone was so happy to take Sam when she was born, Charlie is a bit of a momma's girl. She is getting better, but I'm still her favorite. For now.

While she isn't as great a sleeper as Sam was, she still will sleep 12 hours at night, just not as heavily. She'll play in her crib for an hour before deciding to get up, and then is ready to go back down for a nap an hour later. Unless there is something going on. In that case, she wants to be up and all involved in the action.

I can't wait for the day when she takes Sam down. I have said this over and over, but Sam sort of deserves it. A friend recently brought her 6 month old daughter over. She was amazed at how rough Sam was, literally trying to rip her baby out of her arms. So I guess the fact that Sam will wrap her arms around Charlie and fall backwards with her isn't. quite. normal. At least Charlie is tough because of it. She hardly cries at all anymore when shoved to the ground. (And yes, we have tried telling her to "be nice" "be gentle" etcetcetc. Sam takes that as BE ROUGHER!! And then cries when put in time-out.)

I've fearfully started Charlie on whole milk, since the whole AWFUL gas thing that put her on soy formula at 6 weeks of age. And true to her form, Charlie handled it like a champ. She guzzles it down and doesn't even notice that there is no Karo syrup in the bottle. She has taken to sippy cups like a duck to water, coincidentally, she also likes watching ducks in the water.

She likes the lake, and boat rides, and her cousins. She doesn't like running water in the bathtub, being hungry or thirsty, or people she doesn't know. She has mastered going up and down the stairs and has yet to actually go down them the wrong way. This time of her life is so far my favorite. Her personality is starting to shine, and I just LOVE it. I can't wait to see what the next year brings. I am guessing many take-downs and many more sibling fights.

Not to Complain or Anything

2011-08-08T16:56:00.000-05:00

So it is no secret that lately I have been struggling. Did you read my last post?

But sometimes, it makes things so. much. worse. when you realize what other people are going through. And then you think to yourself, "Self, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

For example, my uncle had a quadruple bypass 2 Friday's ago. And he is not recovering well.

So his wife and children, brothers and sisters, and various nieces and nephews have been spending time hours away from home, days at a time, to be with him. The emotional ups and downs of a hospital watch are... well, yeah, they suck. I feel bad complaining when they are going through that. And yet...

Summer has flown by. And we have had a good time, don't get me wrong. I got to spend a great weekend with a great friend and her family that I hadn't see in over 2 years. And I spent another fun weekend with other friends. And I have another fun weekend coming up with more friends.

But there is also the couple of weeks when Kale got neutered, and got diarrhea. And Fonz's toe has been infected for a couple of weeks, and now his ears are too. Little Charlie turns one on Saturday, and I am having a hard time getting in the mood to celebrate. Or plan her party. Which I have already committed to.

This is what it is like to be depressed. For no reason. And then you get mad at yourself for feeling sorry for yourself. And that just makes you shut down even more. Workaholic has been busy beyond belief, which means he can't be there to, well...pick me up. Like usual.

I wish I could just snap out of this. I wish the new meds would work. I wish I had that fire in my belly that everyone else around me seems to have that gets them through their day. Part of me wonders if I am just lazy. I suppose it is possible. But am I really choosing laziness over self worth? Over feeling good? Over feeling like I got something accomplished? Goodness, I hope not.

Struggle

2011-07-27T15:24:00.000-05:00

I have this daily struggle.

Get out of bed.

Get things done.

Do my work.

It is every day that I have this struggle. It has been 5 weeks and 3 days since I started my new medication. I think it is working a little bit, but not nearly as much as I had hoped. I miss the part of Pristiq that helped me to get out of bed in the morning. I hate getting out of bed in the morning.

Do you ever watch the show Hoarders? You know, the one with people who keep trash in their house and think that it is something that should not be thrown away? Sometimes, those people actually get their houses cleaned up, and they often say how much better they feel about life.

I can totally relate.

My house does not qualify for Hoarders, yet. But I have things strewn about. Things that have no real home right now. If Kale tears up a paper towel from my office trash can, which he seems to do weekly, I don't mind if it sits on the basement floor for a week. Eventually, I pick it up and throw it away, and then wonder why I took so long to do it.

We are in a transition stage right now. Workaholic is working much more than usual. Until he is done with his latest project, I feel lost. I have things that don't belong in my dining room in my dining room. I can't wait for him to be finished so I can get my dining room turned into a playroom, as it should be. I can't wait to get the toys out of my living room and into my dining room. I need to get the boxes of books out of my bedroom...to anyplace else.

Every time I get a space cleared, it stays that way for about a day. And then it is cluttered up again. I can't wait until things calm down. I need things to calm down. My mind has a hard time focusing on anything. I can't get my work done. I can't get a decent blog done.

Even though I know I need to get organized, I can't get myself organized. I keep telling myself that it will all be OK soon. In the meantime, days pass, and I hardly even notice. I hate that. I wish I had that fire in my belly to get me motivated, instead I have nothing. All I want to do is hide in my bed all day long.

I struggle.

Part Two...

2011-07-27T10:58:00.000-05:00

I would like to update you on the rest of my Day One of Vacation.

3:30pm

Go into Charlie's room, where she is taking a 3 hour nap.

Reel backwards from the smell.

Peek at her, laying so cute in her crib.

With poop smeared all over the sheets, blanket, pacifier, and child.

Yell for help.

Wonder why my children have such a facination with taking off their diapers.

Fortunately for everyone involved, there were no more poop incidents for the rest of the weekend.

Day One of Vacation

2011-07-21T09:16:00.000-05:00

I took the next 3 days off of work for vacation. Let's review real quick what I have done so far on day one... (It is 9:09am)

Been woken up at 5:30am by Workaholic's alarm on his phone. That goes off every day. And doesn't wake him up.
Been woken up at 6am by Workaholic, not sure if it was his alarm or him leaving or what.
Been woken up at 6:30am by a whining puppy. Who doesn't understand what vacation and sleeping in are.
Gotten up with the puppy. Fed the puppy. Medicated the puppy. Let him outside. Let him inside.
Poured a 30lb bag of dog food into a plastic bin for Fonz. Fed and medicated Fonz. Let him outside. Let him back inside, but kept the puppy outside for a few minutes. This is key.
Unloaded and reloaded dishwasher. Talked to new K for a couple of minutes. Decided to let the puppy back inside.
OHDEARGODWHATISTHATSMELL??????
Almost vomited multiple times when I realized that dear sweet mother-blanking puppy rolled in fresh poop.
Bathed dear sweet mother-blanking puppy.
Bathed myself.

Needless to say, I think that instead of beginning my day and running a ton of errands in this debilitating heat, I am going to lay down for a while and rest. It is vacation, damn it.

Dear Charlie, What I Have Learned

2011-07-19T19:10:00.001-05:00

Dear Charlie,

Since your sister is out of town for a couple of days, I have learned a few things about you.

I've learned that when you are screaming when in the bathttub, it means that you don't want to be there. And you will do anything, I mean anything, to get out of it. I have also learned that you know how to throw yourself over the edge of the tub, which means landing on your head on the ceramic tile floor.

I've learned that your pain tolerance has increased tenfold in the past couple of months.

I've learned that when you are quiet, it means that you are contemplating just how to get to the bottom of the stairs without going down backwards. Like we have taught you. I watched you ever so slowly lean forward and deliberately move your chubby little legs down to the next step without falling down. I was happy to see that you decided that was NOT the best way to go and went down the next two steps backwards. On your belly. Like we taught you.

I've learned that you can cross the living room in about 3 seconds flat. To get to the stairs.

I've learned that you know that your sister's room is your sister's room, and you take every opportunity you can to mess with it.

I've learned that you really love ice. And that you will get what you want. (see above regarding the bathtub incident) In fact, your first steps were taken while on a boat ride. You were standing next to me, and you really wanted to get to the ice in the cooler. So you took 2 steps to get there. On a moving boat.

I've learned that you know a heck of a lot more than I think you do. Your babblings mean something. Especially the ma-ma-ma-ma-ma one. That means mama.

I've learned that you are a happy kid. I mean a really. happy. kid. You love sleep and walks and playing in your crib with dirty laundry and using the dogs as step stools. I think you just noticed Sampson today. You love him too.

I've learned that while you and your sister are for sure different kids, you are most definitely my kids. And I love you.

Parrot

2011-07-11T11:09:00.000-05:00

Because I am an awesome mom, I am teaching my daughter the best way to speak. And by teaching I mean that she repeats everything we say. Especially everything I say.

"Actually, mom, I'm going to go play outside now, actually."

"Oh shit."

"Darn it!!"

"Go away, puppy, GO!"

"Why don't we sit down and think about it?"

"No, it's not time for bed (or lunch, or anything mom wants to do). Not yet. Maybe later."

Yes, she is our little parrot. I am scared for what she says when we are not around.

To My Sam and Charlie

2011-06-28T15:07:00.000-05:00

Dear Sam and Charlie,

Sam, a week from Friday you will be 2 1/2 years old.

I am amazed daily at you. When you do things like this.

If you can't tell, you love your pacifier, which you only get at bedtime, and you despise clothes. Well, that isn't entirely true, you like certain clothes. And usually only for short amounts of time.

You love playing in your sandbox and climbing on just about anything. You love dogs, or puppies as you call them, and want to stop and greet each one that we pass. Especially in the car.

Speaking of the car, you are a master of getting your arms out from under your car seat straps. And when I look back at you and tell you to put them back in, you tell me, "Or you'll stop the car, and that will be bad? Very bad?" For the record, I have never stopped the car. Yet.

You speak very well for your age. We can carry on full-blown conversations with you about your day, and you are quite honest. Most of the time. You have told people that you did not behave for new K. You have also told me that you are going to be shy when meeting new people. The things that come out of your mouth amaze and entertain us. You love to call your daddy and I by our first names. Just last night, you came down to the office and said, "Gail, pizza is ready." You love to yell at the dogs, but also to walk them. They are usually pretty good about not pulling you down. And if they do, you just run after them yelling at them...just like I do.

You do love your little sister, even though you beat up on her most days. If we are telling you that you are too rough, you just get more rough. And then we have to pull you kicking and screaming off of her. And both of you are crying. You know when I am putting Charlie to bed that you need to be very quiet, and tell me so. And then proceed to leave the room and SLAM the door. And then giggle...so I know you do it on purpose.

Charlie...poor, poor Charlie. Between the dogs and your sister, you are turning out to be one tough little girl. You have developed your personality a LOT in the past couple of months. You went from barely crawling to zooming across the floor. You also have decided that crawling just isn't good enough and you are PISSEDATTHEWORLD that you can't walk yet. You can pull yourself up on anything, can stand by yourself for about 5-10 seconds, and can cruise along furniture. Or the fireplace. But you can't walk yet. And everyone knows it.

You talk a lot. While you are eating. While you are crawling. While you are supposed to be sleeping. You can say uh-oh. And the rest we have no idea what you are saying. We love it when you smile, your smile just lights up the room...just like your sister's. You have a cute little scrunch face that you do, mimicking your daddy. You also love stuffed animals, and the little red piano...

Your uncle T is amazed at how much you have changed in the past month. I say it started 2 months ago, but whatever. You have developed quite a personality. You are not afraid to demand what you want, you are not afraid to try new things. You think nothing of charging full force at something new...even if it means a possible trip down the stairs. You love to crawl over obstacles, but yet every. single. time. you pull over the dog bowls it scares you and you cry. You cry when you get scared. OH! You don't like new people. Aunt B came over today and she greeted you. You started crying and crawled away, towards me. Once you were safe and eating though, she didn't seem so scary. So at least you seem to warm up quickly.

You have also decided that getting up before 7am is the cool new thing to do. Let me tell you...it is not. But I think that you just like hanging out with me and watching me shower. You LOVE the bath. You splash and splash and splash. You don't mind getting water on your face or in your eyes. You don't even mind when your sister washes your hair or your back. Not your face though...you draw the line. You also think nothing of pulling yourself up on the side of the tub, and then show off you mad standing skillz by just standing and playing with a toy.

You have nine teeth now. We wondered why you were so fussy and a little warm...turns out there was a molar coming in! Who knew? You are just growing up so fast. I don't even realize half the things that you can do...like eat solid foods, open the drawers with the knives in them, and use Fonz as a step stool. (Actually, that one didn't turn out so well.) Ten and a half months really have flown.

I think one of my favorite things about the two of you is your diaper habits. Sam, you can change your own diaper. (We talk a lot about potty training, but you apparently don't think that you are ready yet, or just don't want to. Who knows. I am not pushing you, because I don't want to be cleaning up pee and poop from clothes and the floor. I just finished housebreaking Kale.) Every morning, you get up and change your diaper and then come sneaking downstairs. Sometimes you even throw it in the trash can in the garage. The good thing about this is YAY! You can change your own diaper! The bad thing is when I NEED to change your diaper, you want to do it. And sometimes it is in everyone's best interest for me to do it. (You kind of want to do everything on your own. Shoes, clothes, pushing the stroller, strapping yourself into your car seat, you name it...you want to do it BYMYSELF!)

Charlie, you and Sam are wearing the same size of diaper. She is small for her age, and you are completely average. Yours are actually too big, but close enough is good enough. And last weekend, you figured out how to take yours off. I am REALLY hoping that it was a 2 time fluke, because I do think that 11 months is a tad too young to potty-train. Otherwise we will have to resort to putting your diaper on backwards or using duct tape...both of which I had to do with your sister.

There are just so many more fabulous things about the two of you. I love you both dearly, more than there are words. I know that sometimes it may not seem that way...especially when we are driving in the car, or there is a diaper involved, or when I am trying to get you in the car, or I am trying to work, or I am trying to get you out of the car. I wish I felt better most days so I could give you more of myself. You two definitely deserve the best we have to give.

Keep growing, keep learning, and I'll update the world again on where you are in a few months. That way, when you are 16 and 15 and arguing over who did what first, we can just look back and see what I said. I love you little girls!!!

The Big D

2011-06-20T14:12:00.000-05:00

Lately, I have been a little...on edge.

To put it lightly.

I have been on medicine for depression since Sam was about 6 months old. I had to go off while I was pregnant with Charlie, and was able to start taking it again when she was 6 weeks old.

A couple of months ago I decided that my medicine just wasn't cutting it and I needed to be on something new. Something that wouldn't hurt a baby if I accidentally got pregnant, something that I could stay on while pregnant. (NO...we are NOT trying anytime soon. Just planning out the future.)

My doc wrote me a new script, and I have weaned myself off my old meds and will begin taking my new ones tonight.

This past weekend...I realized why I am on medication.

People often look at me sideways when I tell them I am on anti-depressants. They blame it on being postpartum, although I think it goes way before I had kids. PPD was just the fire that was lit under my ass to get on meds. I didn't want to bring up my kids with me being depressed.

I wouldn't wish depression on anyone. I will, however, try to explain what it is like, for those of you who are like my husband, and see life through rose-colored glasses.

In the morning, when your alarm goes off, you physically can't get out of bed. You don't want to, your body hurts, even though there is no reason for it to. You dread your day. There isn't anything in particular to dread, but you dread it all the same. All you want to do is stay in bed, and hide from the world. This isn't just one morning every once in a while. It is every. single. morning.

Little things annoy you, more than they should. And your reaction to those annoyances are a tad more...violent. People at work say, "Good morning", and you want to slap them across the face. (Why do people insist on talking to each other before lunch, I could never understand.) I have a maintenance light that came on in my car, right after I got the oil changed. Looking at that light is like hearing fingernails on a chalkboard. I really want to take a screwdriver and stab it through the plastic cover on my dash and poke that light out. But I won't because I know that I would probably hurt myself in the process and not even get the light to go out. Which would lead to my next thing...crying.

Anything will make you cry. Getting caught at a red light. It isn't the fact that you have to sit a red light for 30 seconds. It is the voice in your head telling you that everything in this world is conspiring against you. That light wants to make you late to where ever it is that you are going.

Speaking of voices...they are the worst. They are thoughts that constantly are in your head, and make you cry even if you just drop something on the floor.

They tell you that you are not able to do anything right.
Why even try to do something, because you will fail miserably at it. (And probably very publicly as well.)
You are a terrible person, an awful wife, a marginal mother. (I mean, your kids aren't dead...so that is a plus.)

They tell you how fat you are, and there is no point in trying to lose weight or eat healthy, because you will probably fail at it. And even if you do lose some weight, your thighs will still rub together, so really...what is the point? (And at that point, you eat pizza and ice cream and chocolate, because it tastes good. Which doesn't really help out your thighs.)

There are times when the voices are constant. Any little thing can set them off, and then they don't shut up. They are thoughts running through your head at breakneck speed, reminding you that once again, you have failed. Once again, you have let someone down. Once again, you should not have gotten out of bed.

If you do go out on a limb, and try something new, something that takes a little bit of kahunas, the slightest bit of criticism is crushing. For example, I remember when I was in high school I wrote a short story about a girl who moved to the projects in Chicago from a middle-class, small-town lifestyle. My English teacher very gently suggested that next time, perhaps I could write about something that I knew more about. Let's just say that was the last short story I wrote for a very. long. time.

Depression is a bitch. I hate it when people who have never experienced it think that you can just "snap out of it." People who think that "if you put your mind to something, you can beat it."

Depression isn't something that can be willed away. Trust me, I have tried. And failed. I have tried faking my way through life. Sometimes I succeed, which is why people look at me sideways and tell me that I am not depressed. OK...you get in my head then tell me I don't suffer from depression.

I have high hopes for my new medication. Hope that it will get me out of bed. Hope that it will make the thoughts go away. Make the tears stop. I have hope that it will help me get back to a life that I love and can enjoy. My girls, my husband, hell...even my dogs deserve that. So I have hope.

Strange Phone Call

2011-06-17T12:23:00.000-05:00

Me: "Hi Workaholic, are you busy?"

Him: "No."

Me: "Sam just told me that you are coming home from work in 2 hours, does she know something I don't know?"

Him: "Let me call you back, I just got busy."

They Won't Remember

2011-06-13T22:03:00.000-05:00

So I am totally not a fan of co-sleeping, but when we go to the cottage in Michigan, Sam doesn't have her own bed anymore. Damn kid outgrew the pack n play. So she either sleeps with Oma and Papa or me and Workaholic. It used to be she would climb the stairs and throw her hand backward and say, "Nite mom, I'm sleeping with Oma. See you later."

But ever since this summer started, she has this thing that she just has to sleep with mommy. Bonus if daddy is there, but she is quite adamant about sleeping with mommy. I feel flattered, but also am exhausted most to of the time. Because Sam, like most little kids, is a cuddler.

You see, I am not a cuddler. Workaholic and I have had real, honest-to-God fights about the fact that I will not sleep in the nook of his arm. He says that I must not really love him if I don't want to lay on him all. night. long. But seriously, who can sleep like that other than people on soap operas and Private Practice?? TV totally puts unrealistic expectations on us...but I'll not go into that now.

So I was laying there the other night, trying my best to make due with the 12 inches of bed I was allotted, and I figured that if I rolled over and snuggled up to Sam, maybe even throw my arm over her, I'd have a little more room. And you know what?? It wasn't that bad. I was able to fall asleep, and sort of stay asleep for most of the night. True, I woke up exhausted and a little achy, but there really is something about sleeping all snuggled up with a little kid. I get why co-sleepers do it...just not all the time.

But while I was trying to fall asleep, I thought of something else. Little kids rarely remember much that happens in their lives before the age of 5. And you know what? That SUCKS. Because Sam won't ever remember our beloved Buster. She won't remember her first time on the beach. She won't remember playing on campus or Easter egg hunting (this year) or when the giraffe ate her cracker. And she won't remember cuddling up with me the other night.

There is so much cool stuff that we do with our kids, and they remember, like, none of it. I have few memories of my childhood...although I am sure that my parents read books to me and cuddled with me, I don't recall any of it. While I know that it is super important in my kid's development to do all the parent-y stuff, like cuddle and give hugs and read books and tell them that I love them, the pure fact is that if I died tomorrow, Sam would have precious few memories of me and Charlie wouldn't have any. And that just sucks.

That doesn't mean that I'm not going to keep making those memories. (I may try to get more of them on video) But when it really comes down to it, the things you do when kids can't remember form who they are as adults. So I'll try to not lose my cool as much. I'll try to cuddle more. And give more hugs. And try to be the awesome person I want my kids (and dogs) think that I am.

June Update

2011-06-10T16:12:00.000-05:00

After being gone from blogging for so long, you would think that I am just bottled up with all sorts of things I need to tell you guys. And really, I AM! I just don't remember ANY of them at the current moment. I wish I could narrate a blog while driving, because honestly, that is where I come up with my best shit.

Speaking of shit, that is all I can think about right now. I'm really not one to go into detail about poop, OK well, my poop. (My kids...that is an entirely different story.) But let's just say that I am at work and I had Chipotle for lunch (YUM!) and my colon is reminding me that perhaps that was just not the best idea.

Workaholic and I went to Puerto Rico last month with another couple. And you know what? We had a great time! OK, so we didn't get wasted, and it rained a lot. But we sat on the beach and played in the ocean and went to the rain forest and I ate lobster. And some guy driving past us in a car randomly told us to fuck off. I would totally show you a picture except I put all of them onto my crappy desktop at home and I can't get them off. So there is that.

Kale is doing well. He is very tall and gangly. And I've been taking him to doggie day care once or twice a week. Which is a gift from heaven. Because he runs out to the car afterwards and CAN. NOT. WAIT. to get home and take a nap. Yes! He walks very well on leash (usually) and can sit. He knows what "kennel up" means, and generally has pretty good house manners. And he only has an accident every once in while.

But yeah...I haven't taught him any cool tricks. Which is to say that I haven't taught him any tricks. By this age, Fonz was a friggin' champ at stay, but poor Kale's training sort of falls to the bottom of my list. That and I feel like unless he picks something up right away, I am a failure at training. Which is total crap. But I keep telling myself that I will do it tomorrow. And I will. I promise. He'll know how to lie down, and stay, and shake, and shake it out, and roll over, and take a bow with the BEST of them. Soon, I promise.

Did you notice that SUMMER IS HERE!!!?? OMG!! It was almost a hundred degrees here this week, but today I don't even think that it is 70. And rain. OMG, the rain. My yard is a forest because the poor grass hasn't been mowed. BUT STILL! Summer is here!!

Since summer is here, my usually busy life has gained momentum and switched into high gear. We spend much of our free time at the cottage, and Workaholic spends more free time than he has renovating our new cottage. We picked out tile last night, so we are SO CLOSE. It will still be the end of July, if we are lucky, before it is done.

And here is where I get spoiled and whiny...I miss my husband. Yes, he is spending 6 months working his ass off (as are his brother and his dad) in order to give us a kick-ass place to vacation. And it will be awesome. But these have been some of the hardest months of my life. I have a house to take care of, and two kids, and two dogs, and a cat. Plus a full-time job. And I have more help than I care to admit. But all of that can't replace my dear, sweet, wonderful Workaholic. (can you tell I haven't seen him much??)

There have been times when he has been gone for a week, or more. And it is definitely not unusual for me not to see him for 3-4 days a time. Talking on the phone is hard, because he is so busy, and when he isn't running, he is dead asleep. We've communicated mostly by texting lately. Let me just say that Puerto Rico was a bit of a life saver.

And the girls...oh my, the girls. Charlie is crawling now. Which is awesome since I am not the one responsible for watching her all day. She is going to be the type of kid to see what happens when she sticks her finger in a light socket. Actually, she has already tried. She has not yet fallen down the stairs, but really, just give her time.

Sam is turning into quite the older sister. By that I mean the bossy independent LETMEDOIT older sister. She know knows how to open the door, and last week decided that she wanted to go for a walk. And be damned if she was going to wait for anyone to go with her. I wish I would've taken a picture of her strolling down the sidewalk, away from our house, pushing her miniature pink Graco baby stroller. By herself. Last weekend, on more than one occasion, she decided to go visit the neighbors. So she did. She waltzed right over, and went into the house, and opened the fridge, and demanded orange juice. Then she went into someone's purse and found a piece of gum and their iPhone. Because that is how she rolls.

I know that Sam is just a typical toddler. Perhaps even an "easy" toddler. But for goodness sake. Some days I wish she understood when I say, "Child, when I tell you that you cannot have a juice box, that DOES NOT MEAN go grab a juice box and sneak off into the garage to drink it. And I am sorry that you are afraid of the potty, but in all seriousness, you can CHANGE YOUR OWN DIAPER. Please start pooping on the toilet! It would make all of our lives just a tad bit easier."

I am not bragging, but Sam is super smart. She need only see how something is done once and she can figure it out. She can shower by herself and offers to help me out in the bathroom. (Let's just say that when she "becomes a woman" she will have no problem knowing what to do with a tampon.) She is also quite adept at taking the lid off of her sippy cup. No matter how tight it is screwed on. Normally, this is not a problem. But the other day she went to take a swig of milk that must have been in her bed for a couple of days (yes...I allow my daughter to sleep with a sippy cup of milk, oh the HORROR!) and of course the milk had curdled. So she takes off the lid and pours it out onto her bed. Thanks...I needed to wash the sheets anyway. And after re-reading that story, it occurs to me that maybe she isn't super smart if she tries to drink 2 day old milk.

Charlie is becoming the tough younger sister that she needs to be. She recently fell and whacked her head pretty hard. A couple of days later she fell while crawling and hit her head on the corner of the kitchen cabinet in the exact middle of the goose egg on her forehead. And she didn't even cry. That's my girl. She is a happy little girl, in that awesome stage of becoming her own little person. Kind of like with Kale, we haven't worked with her on all the fun baby tricks you teach your oldest kid. She sort of waves bye-bye, but she doesn't know "so big!" yet. She does have fake coughing down though. And she thinks it is the funniest thing ever. She is only about 4 lbs less than Sam, so I definitely look forward to the day where she takes her big sister DOWN.

I know there is much more I could ramble on and on about. Our new K is working out well, although I do miss my old K. I think that I always will, but at least now I can think about her without tearing up. We haven't Skyped yet, but I hope to figure that out this weekend.

I promise to try to be better about blogging. (If any of you are still out there reading this.) There are lots of rants that I want to post sometimes, but am afraid of hurting someone's feelings. So there is that. Or maybe I'll just stop caring and give ya'll something to talk about.

Wedding Tips That Everyone Should Know

2011-05-19T15:26:00.001-05:00

Over the past few months, a couple of people I know have gotten engaged. This is a little weird only because most of my friends are already married, or married and divorced. I've thought a lot about weddings and what I would do different, and so I have a few invaluable wedding tips for any newly engaged couple out there.

I would venture to say that some of these "tips" are things that most people won't tell you. Because they don't want to hurt your feelings. I have no fear of hurting people's feelings because I generally notice that no one takes my advice. That doesn't stop me from dishing it out though.

My main tip would be, DON'T be a bridezilla. Nothing is so important as to piss off your future spouse or parents or in-laws. Try to be considerate, this is your family, after all. Also...

Don't get married in June, July, or August. If you insist on nice weather, do May, September, or October. Why, you ask? The summer is just way too busy for most people. You included. I know you are excited to get married and all, but if it is a perfectly gorgeous day, without a cloud in the sky and it is 85 degrees outside, you will kicking yourself that you can't be in a bathing suit. And ladies? Those dresses are fucking hot. No other way to look at it. At least you get to have bare arms...the poor guys are wearing 2 layers of long sleeves!
Spend money on kick-ass reception entertainment. Because even if your food sucks or your reception is in a barn, everyone will remember how much fun they had dancing the night away.
Try not to get caught up in the minute details of flowers and how your bridesmaids wear their hair. Trust me, you won't even see the flowers, and let the girls do their hair however it looks best on them. Don't need everyone talking about the pretty sister with the 80s hair-do.
Speaking of attendants, keep it to a minimum. I am talking siblings ONLY. Inform your friends that they are required at all bachlorette parties and bridal showers, but you aren't forcing them to spend a ton of money on dresses and shoes that they will never wear again. (trust me, they will thank you for this.) This is a plus for you because it is less for you to manage on your big day, and you will save money not buying THEM gifts. If they are true friends, they will be there for everything and still be your friend after the wedding.
Another tip is to hire a wedding planner. Yes, I am recommending spending money on a wedding planner. That way, you don't have to delegate tiny details to people who would rather enjoy the day with you, and there is someone to handle the tiny details. You can use this person as much or as little as you'd like. But at a bare minimum, they need to be there the day before and the day of the wedding and know everything that you want. In detail. So you can then forget about the details that you won't notice anyway.
DO think of the little details that will make the day more enjoyable for your guests. Have a lot of people coming in from out-of-town? Put together a little welcome packet to be given to them at the hotel. Expect the party to continue after the reception? Arrange for transportation to the preferred bar. Yes, some things cost a little extra, but it is those same things that people will remember for years to come.
Elope. Yep. If you can stomach the thought of not having the big wedding, and kind of like the idea of getting married on the beach or on top of a mountain, DO IT.

I am sure that I've got more ideas mulling around my head, but since it has been almost 5 years since I did it myself, I forget them. Lots has happened since 2006, and planning a wedding is kind of one of those events that you stress so much about, you forget the pain of it afterwards. Or maybe it was the open bar at my wedding...

Vacation, Puppy, and K

2011-05-18T14:18:00.000-05:00

So...yeah. It has been a while since I blogged, and I have SO MUCH I wanted to tell ya'll.

Like how I spent the weekend in Puerto Rico. And got told to Fuck Off.

Like how my new puppy is almost housebroken, but does not know the command Lay Down. Or Off. But does know "with me", as in "walk with me." (I use that instead of "heel", I think it sounds more natural.)

Or how I hope to get my carpets cleaned this weekend. I am sure you guys are SUPER excited about that.

But the biggest thing is that K left us. I mean, she moved out and is going to her sister's wedding, and then to teach at camp for the summer and then going to grad school. And by left us, I mean me.

While we were in Puerto Rico, she moved all of her stuff out. And even Fonz was sad. And then we got back and went to lunch and I took a nap. And when I got up, it was time for her to go.

I cried. I'm not going to lie. This is a girl who has been here for 6 months and wormed her way into our hearts. When Workaholic was, you know, working, she was here, chatting it up with me. We are both the youngest of a family of girls, raised Catholic, and played sports. (She was much better than me.) She got me, and I think I got her.

When Sam was throwing temper tantrums and I wanted to toss her out the back door, K lovingly put her on the steps and told her to "think about it", and HOLY SHIT THAT WORKED! When Charlie did her annoying whiny cry, instead of just putting her in bed like I would have, K figured out that she loved to be put in front of the mirror.

K taught us how to Skype.

There are so many more ways that she just made our lives better. This morning, first thing, Sam asked for her. She knows that she isn't coming back, that she is going to school. It makes me super, duper sad that there is a chance we might never see her again. But hopefully, between facebook and Skype and Twitter, we can stay in touch.

Because even though Charlie most certainly won't remember her, and Sam will only have vague memories of her, I will never forget her. Miss you K!!

Sam's First True Love

2011-05-09T21:42:00.000-05:00

So for the past 6 months or so, we've had a nanny who watches the girls. I call her K.

K is leaving us in a week. I'm really upset by this. I understand, she is moving on with her life, going to grad school and being an adult, but I am really going to miss her. As are Sam and Charlie. But really, I think I am going to miss her the most. She is just like me, but 10 years younger, and smarter.

One of the reasons that K has been awesome in that her boyfriend lives in Scotland. Like, the country. So every night, after I got home, she would go and get on Skype with him. And inevitably, Sam would go and get on Skype with him. Skype is where she first fell in love.

His name is Steven. Sam calls him Stevie. So now, we all call him Stevie. Poor guy.

K and Stevie are going to work on the east coast together for the summer, so he came in from Scotland last week. Sam got to go with K to pick him up at the airport. She held this sign, I bet she looked so damn cute. (notice Sam's scribble additions to the sign) I guess in Scotland they don't say "hey", they say "oi".

The whole way home from the airport, Sam would yell, "STEVIE!!!!" And he would turn and look at her and she'd cock her head and smile and say, "Whadda ya doin'?"

When I got home from work the first day he was here, I walked in and she is sitting on the couch and he is putting her Converse sneakers on. Which are a BITCH to put on. And when he was done she just wanted to sit in his lap.

Today, he was taking a nap while K was showing the new K the ropes, and Sam ran into the room where he was sleeping. When K went in, Sam was laying on top of Stevie. She smiled at K and sweetly said, "I'm stealing your boyfriend."

Sam also now calls him "My Stevie." As in, "We have to go home now and see My Stevie."

I am now dealing with the fact that I am losing K, Sam is losing Stevie, and I need to learn how to use Skype. Because that way, at least we can still see each other.

It is a Good Day

2011-05-02T09:17:00.000-05:00

This weekend was a roller coaster of emotions.

I spent all weekend watching the royal wedding. I had long ago given up the hope of ever becoming a princess, and I had long ago given up the desire to ever want to become a princess. Diana's short life and tragic death made it seem like the whole royalty thing just wasn't worth it. And then Kate Middleton came along and now I want to be a princess again.

I also read a lot about the tornado damage in the South. Hundreds of people are dead, devastation reigns. Homes lost, family treasures destroyed. A massive clean-up under way. I feel sad for those people, but yet it is so many miles away, I can't help but feel removed from it. I've never lived through a tornado, and I hope I never will. So I feel sad, yet thankful.

And then last night. Osama bin Laden is dead. The memories of September 11th creep into my mind. I try to keep them at bay...waking up to my mom telling me that a plane crashed into the Twin Towers, turning on the TV and not turning it off. Laying in bed, transfixed. Wondering if people would be able to survive in the rubble until they were saved after the collapse, not even realizing that they wouldn't have been able to survive the collapse. Hearing the updates of how many planes were left in flight after US airspace was closed. All flights grounded.

And now, the modern day definition of evil is dead. I can't think of 9/11 without tearing up. I had no personal connection to anyone who died, yet it forever affected me, much like it did all Americans. It changed our way of life. It took our innocence, our misguided feelings of safety and security since we were an ocean away from all the violence on the other side of the world.

I am proud to be an American today. I am so happy that I can look at this face, and feel hope for the future today. In the words of Gracie Lou Freebush, "I really do want world peace."

I'm Just Trying to Help

2011-04-20T12:27:00.000-05:00

Since K is leaving us in May, we are on the hunt for a new nanny for the girls. We've had some good applicants, and then, well...there are some others. Below is a helpful list of what NOT to say if you are applying for a job with a family.

If the title of the job is "Live-In Nanny" or "Live-Out Nanny", please do not respond and say, "It sounds like a perfect job for me, except for the Live-in/Live-out part. There is a reason that is the TITLE OF THE JOB.
The proper spelling of the shortened version of advertisement is "ad". Not add. ADD is a form of developmental disorder.
If you are a smoker, don't apply for a nanny job that states only non-smokers should apply.
Don't apply for a live-in position if you have your own kids, that you want to bring with you. Enough said.
Use punctuation. And spell check. And proper grammer. i.e. YOUR is not spelled ur. I am is not abbreviated im. The beginning of every sentence should start with a capital letter.
Don't offer childcare in your home if the ad specifically states an in-home nanny is desired. The parents have probably looked into daycare before, and prefer not to have to drag their kids out of bed in the morning and get them ready to take them to someone else's house.
Do NOT complain about your current job when responding to an ad. You come across as whiny.
Do not tell me about your physical ailments when I am asking you to care for two children under the age of two. If you have a back problem you feel is necessary to tell me about, then this job may not be for you.

Thanks, and you are welcome.

Yep, I'm Venting Again

2011-04-20T08:31:00.000-05:00

I've written before about how I don't handle change well. Change translates to stress, and I don't do that well either. My mom says I come by it honestly, as my dad tends to freak out when things go the way of the unexpected.

What I didn't realize, and learned this morning by a nice (virtual) slap in the face, is that I also don't like changes to my routine. At all. Unless they are on my terms.

For whatever reason, Sam woke up around 4am crying for daddy. So of course, I woke him up. (what else was I supposed to do?) So you know what he does? Brings her in bed with us. Let me explain that we do not co-sleep. I don't even want to begin the process of my kids crawling in bed with us at all hours of the night. Because, as I have written about before, I need my sleep.

And within 30 seconds of Sam falling back asleep in our bed, Workaholics alarm goes off. So he gets up, and leaves Sam in my bed. How exactly am I supposed to get ready if I am tiptoeing around a 2 year old, trying to not wake her so she'll sleep until 9am??

I get up and feed the dogs, and at this point I usually walk them. However, I am not comfortable leaving Sam free to roam the house should she wake up. (she normally is still in a crib) I ask Workaholic if he'll stay until I get back from my walk and am promptly shot down. He needs to get to work.

So I say screw it, and take the walk anyway. Fuming the whole way, pissed off that Fonz is wandering into my neighbors' backyards, and pissed off that Kale has decided that he must try to eat every earthworm on the sidewalk. (Did I mention it has rained for days? Which means that every earthworm in the ground has decided to die on the sidewalk?) Do you know how disgusting it is to see a black 10 week old puppy look up at you when you call his name with a worm dangling from his snout? Vomit. I am also pissed that he doesn't seem to want to walk on a leash; as it is totally realistic that I expect a 10 week old puppy to heel perfectly at my side.

I got home, got in the shower, and have managed to make it to my office in the basement without waking the kids. So all of my freaking out was for no good reason. I don't know why I haven't learned by now that my freaking out is generally for no good reason.

I am getting a massage today. All I can say is that I can. not. wait.

He Really Does Exist

2011-04-15T14:24:00.001-05:00

One of my facebook friends is in the Cayman Islands this week. And he has been posting all kinds of wonderful things like, :"HEAVEN" and "Just got back to my room and there were 4 beers waiting for me on ice" and "I so needed this vacation". (like the rest of us don't need one!) Anyway, most of the time when I have been reading his posts I resist the urge to reach through my computer screen and wring his now-well-tanned neck, because I am sure that he really DID need the vacation and I shouldn't take my stress out on an ex-boyfriend who likes to gloat on facebook about how he is in the lap of luxury, and really maybe I should just go and get a massage.

My point it, one of his posts was this picture, accompanied by him saying, "I DARE you to tell me God doesn't exist."

The whole God existing question is not even a presence in my mind, I know He does and that is just that. But every once in a while, He likes to remind me.

Shortly after I had Samantha, I wrote this post. I hadn't been getting much sleep since she was born, and I got 8 hours right when I needed it. And then, at 7 1/2 weeks, Sam started sleeping through the night. Had she gone any longer, I don't know how much more I would have been able to take. I need my sleep, otherwise I might get all crazy on my kid. So God made her sleep and she has been a sleeping champ ever since.

Last weekend, I got a new puppy. His name is Kale and he is 9 weeks old. And guess what? He doesn't sleep through the night. I have to get up and let him out once. But the weird thing? Charlie was sporadically waking at night, usually around 3:30am, pissed off at something. I never would pick her up, usually just pop the pacifier back in her mouth or cover her up or roll her from her stomach to her back since she refuses to do that herself. But still...I was randomly getting up at 3:30 am.

And now? Charlie is sleeping through the night. So I don't have to get up with her at 3:30am, and then with Kale whenever he decides that he has to pee. (And then NOT want to go back to sleep.)

Also? Charlie always got up before 7am. Always. She would wake up in a great fucking mood and I would have to get up, change her diaper, feed her, and then usually start my day. But now, my day starts at 6am anyway, because a certain 9 week old Flat Coat wants to get up at that time. But Charlie? Has now decided to sleep in until almost 8am. Which. Is. Awesome.

Because that way, I can take the dogs for a walk, and feed them, and then take them back outside without having to worry about Charlie. I don't worry that she'll get up while I am gone, she gives me the time to take care of the pups and the cat and shower and get ready. Then she wakes up. It is kind of awesome.

Now, I am not even going to pretend that my children have some sort of super power that tells them how to help their mom out when she really needs it. And while I do think there is such a thing as luck, and karma, but I would much rather chalk it up to the fact that God does really exist. And the proof is in that He has made it possible for me to have this new puppy and not lose my mind. And for that, I'll thank Him in my prayers every night.

Random Thoughts

2011-04-12T13:45:00.000-05:00

I was so worried about getting a post out introducing Kale, that I haven't really written anything much lately. This is what I have been thinking.

Xanex fixes everything. Can't sleep? Xanex. Nervous about a test? Xanex. Want to beat your child/dog/mother/boss? Xanex. See? It fixes everything.

Why does everyone love puppy breath? It is disgusting. I don't understand why everyone goes gaga over it.

I never thought I would be THAT person who was addicted to their smart phone. Yeah, I was wrong.

Kale was NOT the first name I considered for my our new puppy. Some other options were Kade, Kai, Angus, Harry, and Clyde. I think that Workaholic has decided to call him Clyde, which means Sam will too. Great.

K is leaving us in a month. We do not yet have a replacement for her. And yet I am not panicking. This is what I keep telling myself. Everything WILL work out.

I think when Workaholic blew up the TV, he also blew up my adding machine, my shredder, and my space heater. Which, ironically, I think is what caused the TV to blow up. I miss my space heater.

Am I the only one who has lived in a house for less than 6 years and needed to entirely repaint it? Yes? Oh.

I tend to judge people on their landscaping. Like, if it is totally out of control and overgrown, I think, "Wow, those people really should work on their landscaping. What is wrong with them?" And then I look at my yard, and think, "Uh, oops."

I haven't finished my taxes yet. Yes, I am a dumbass.

I play Wordfeud regularly on my phone. And yes, I cheat. Deal with it.

I am wondering if I should be concerned that I don't know where Clyde is right now. Oh shit...

Introducing...Kale!!

2011-04-12T10:44:00.000-05:00

Remember the other day when I was talking about being stressed?

Anticipation of this is the reason I was stressed.

His name is Kale and he is a Flat-Coated Retriever. And he is 9 weeks old.
Isn't he cute??

He is finding his way in the family...

And Fonz is doing his best to tolerate him. While putting him in his place. And demanding just as many treats as Kale gets.

We are figuring out his place in the house, specifically, figuring out how to get him to sleep without crying in his crate at night. Workaholic is not so happy with being woken up by a crying (very loudly) puppy. And for that matter, neither am I.

But other than that, he is doing fantastic. Only a couple of accidents, none his fault, and nothing destroyed. Yet. Let the chaos ensue!!

Stress

2011-04-05T11:28:00.001-05:00

I do not handle stress well. I also do not handle change well...and stress due to change is the worst.

We have lots of stress due to changes going on around our house. And even though (with the exception of K leaving us) the changes are good, for the better, I don't know how to handle everything.

The weeks before I got married, I wasn't the excited, bubbling bride-to-be. I was a bitch. I was so stressed about how everything was going to go and all the details and the planning, I wasn't focusing on the fact that I was marrying the man I loved.

The months after, I was also a bitch. Because I was stressed out about writing thank you notes.

And now? I am being a bitch.

I wish it wasn't this way. I wish I knew how to handle all of this. I wish I knew how everything was going to turn out.

Fear

2011-04-03T10:55:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, not too long after our snowmobile caught on fire, our TV sort of did the same thing.

I came home, and our beautifully large, wonderful TV from our basement was sitting in the garage.

Apparently, we "somehow" lost a negative in the basement wiring, and there was a humming sound. And then a sound like the air was being let out of a balloon. And then a loud pop. And then smoke.

And Sam was right there.

Ever since, she has developed a fear complex. Of pretty much anything. I have been able to convince her that big trucks stay in the road and she is safe in the house. I also calmed her nighttime fears by letting Sampson sleep with her.

But anything unexpected, anything loud, anything big, scares her. And she cries and wants to be held. Which I guess is understandable.

But I am not sure how to get her past this. Is it just a matter of time? Do I need to reassure her and eventually she'll grow out of it and realize that the world is full of big, scary, unexpected noises?

We are renovating a new cottage in Michigan that we just bought. And I took her over there today so she could see daddy and papa and her two uncles at work. But between the table saw, the nail gun, and the drill, I about pushed her over the edge. We left and she was saying, "Papa come home soon, stop making loud noise. I no like it."

If you ask her what happened to the TV, she'll tell you, "TV no stop smoking. Sam scared, got paier."

I hope that she isn't permanently traumatized from the TV. Hopefully once we turn the lights back on in the basement and start watching TV down there again all will be well. I hope.

Words for Women to Live By

2011-04-01T09:01:00.000-05:00

I got this as a forwarded e-mail this morning. And while I know most of you have probably already seen it at some point, it struck a chord with me and I felt the need to share. That and this whole thing is my new mantra.

1. Aspire to be Barbie - the bitch has everything.

2. If the shoe (or shirt) fits - buy them in every color.

3. Take life with a pinch of salt... A wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.

4. In need of a support group? - Cocktail hour with the girls!

5. Go on the 30 day diet. (I'm on it and so far I've lost 15 days).

6. When life gets you down - just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

7. Let your greatest fear be that there is no PMS and this is just your personality.

8. I know I'm in my own little world, but it's ok. They know me here.

9. Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.

10. Don't get your knickers in a knot; it solves nothing and makes you walk funny.

11. When life gives you lemons - buy some Coronas.

12. Forget about the perfect man - he's living in San Fran with his boyfriend.

13. Keep your chin up, only the first 40 years of parenthood are the hardest.

14. If it has tires or testicles it's gonna give you trouble.

15. By the time a women realizes her mother was right, she has a daughter who thinks she's wrong.

Have a great day everyone!!

Two Kids...Or More? A Dark & Twisty Take.

2011-03-31T16:39:00.002-05:00

I wrote about having more than one kid yesterday over at 2 Much Testosterone. I promised you folks more, and I am here to serve you! However, please keep in mind that the following is my own neurosis. It isn't me judging anyone or suggesting anything to anyone. It is simply a peek into my head.

For a long time, the notion of the "perfect family" of four bothered me. Coming from a family of six, with no brothers, I felt like "they" were dissing on us. Like "they" were saying we were some weird, freak kind of family. "Oh wow! There are FOUR of you?! And ALL GIRLS?? Your poor dad." (OK, the last part is right.)

You always saw that family on TV...a mom, a dad, an older brother, and a younger sister. Who was an angel. And they had a Golden Retriever. (I obviously got over that part.) I was upset through my youth that I didn't have an older brother to protect me. I liked to think that the neighbor boys were like my older brothers, but they really weren't. Especially after they moved away.

A few years ago, I found something else about that perfect family of four that disturbs me much, much more.

It seems that a lot of people I know who only have one sibling seem to have something missing in their lives. And that would be a relationship with said sibling. Don't get me wrong, they would not trade their childhood for anything in the world. But as adults, they've grown apart. They've discovered that they are two very different people, with different values (weird, right?) and different ways of living their lives. And often times, they allow this to pull them in opposite directions, to the point where they basically have no relationship anymore. Now, I know this happens all the time to people with multiple siblings, but I am all about the law of statistics. The higher the number, the better chance you have of something turning out right. The better chance you have of your kids being close to at least one of your other children. Or so I hope.

There is a much darker, morbid side to my viewpoint as well. I've known several people whose only other sibling has died. Passed away. Gone on to the other side. Whatever you want to call it, they are no longer here on this Earth.

I'm not kidding. I know kids my age who have lost their only sibling to a car accident, overdose, suicide, and even murder. Murder, people. (Can you imagine losing your only sibling at the hands of some lunatic?) Even if it wasn't murder, it was a random accident, or a drug overdose or suicide that everyone tried everything they could to stop. What would that do to you? What that would do to your parents? And while your parents are grieving, you all have to help each other, but there is no one else on earth who knows how you feel.

I know there are support groups out there for people in these situations. A way to find someone else to lean on when you just can't handle the grief anymore. But it really hit me when one of these people said to me, "I'm an only child now."

And that just made me sad. Sad for her. Sad for everyone who has no one. I've said it before and I'll say it again. I KNOW that many folks out there have friends who are more like family than any family they ever had. And there are women who can only have one child, and so surround themselves with loved ones who aren't biologically related. (And to those people I say, Good job. You are doing it better than I probably would.) I'm just saying, for me, Fertile Mrytle, I want to give my kids siblings. If for nothing else than for peace of mind. Because the way that my mind works, if I have more than two kids, then nothing bad will happen to any of them. (Yes...I have a serious case of "It won't happen to me.")

All anyone wants is for their kids to be happy and healthy. And not have a dark and twisty mind like mine. To me, THAT would be the perfect family.

My First Guest Post!!!!

2011-03-30T21:37:00.000-05:00

OMGOMGOMG...I have my first guest posting assignment!! (For those of you who only read me, i.e. awesome family members, a guest post is when a blogger posts on someone else's blog.)

Pamela, over at 2 Much Testosterone (go read her, she is kick ass!), is letting me ramble on over there. So please click over, give me some comment love, and then keep reading her stuff. She is one. funny. lady.

Then...come back here. Because I have more to add to the topic of mommy guilt and multiple kids, but it has to wait until tomorrow. See ya'll then!

Sick...yay!

2011-03-28T15:56:00.007-05:00

So, I've had this cough. You know, the kind that gets worse at night. And wakes up your 7 month old, who just happens to be sleeping in the same room as you. And your husband. And the dog. And the cat. Who all just happen to be in the same room. And no, I didn't leave the room...I was suffering enough! I got to work early this morning, and had a good hack while walking down a hallway. A co-worker (who shall remain nameless, ERIC), gave me one of those, "Eewwww" looks and told me that I need to go to the doctor. That my cough sounded "bronchial." After I got sick of sitting at my desk being tired (due to the lack of sleep, you know, the coughing), I decided to go to the Immediate Care down the street from my office. Approximately 2 hours later (I guess not so immediate), I was diagnosed with bronchitis. WTH? I've never had that before. Is it sad that I feel a strange sense of validation? Like I can say now, "See people?? I was sick! I did deserve to take that 3 hour nap!" I told you I was sick.

I Could Totally Be Her

2011-03-25T14:15:00.001-05:00

I was sitting at work yesterday, and got to thinking about my house. I'm not quite sure why, but I tend to do this a lot when I am away from said house. I start thinking about all the things that need to be fixed. (BTW...I once had a realtor stalk me because she wanted to list our house. Finally, I told her that we needed time to fix things inside and get it in "show-worthy" condition. And she said, "It is only 5 years old, what possibly could need to be done?" And that? Made me feel like shit.)

Sometimes, with Workaholic working the ~~schedule~~ obsessive way that he does, I feel like I could be Annie from 7th Heaven. Remember that show? I am totally her, minus the minister for a husband, the seven kids, the never-ending patience, and the ability to do anything handy around the house. But I could be her. Minus the minister husband and the seven kids and the never-ending patience.

Let's see, since we've been living in the house for the past 6 1/2 years now, I shall list what needs fixed.

Paint: Pretty much the entire interior needs to be repainted, including but definitely not limited to the baseboards. I'm very hard on those with the vacuum cleaner. We apparently also are very hard on walls. There is some patching that will have to be done, due to some furniture re-arranging that wasn't done as carefully as it should have been.

Floor: The hardwood is scratched by more things than I can count (dogs, kids, furniture, the boy) and should be refinished. We will probably do that AFTER we move out.

Light bulbs: There is never a time when there is not a single light bulb out in my house. Right now, there is one in Sam's room and one in the hallway leading in from the garage. Why Gail...why don't you change them? you ask. Umm...yeah, I should. I'm generally too lazy to pull out the step ladder though.

Dust: There are 5 people, a dog, and a cat that are in this house most of the time. Did you know that dust is mainly composed of dead skin? And pet dander. So...yeah. I have no problem keeping the dust cleared off of places that are reachable, like picture frames and furniture. It's those high places, like ceiling fans and vanity lights that get me. Again with the step ladder.

Clutter: I just can't seem to ever put anything away. Ever. I have a laundry room with a nice counter top that you can't see. The bar in my kitchen is usually full of mail that needs opened, paperwork that needs filed, and crumbs that Workaholic doesn't wipe up.

Exterior: We have some damage from a storm a few years ago...spindles on a 2nd story balcony that were knocked off. Those need to be replaced. And there are a couple of spots where the wood needs to be replaced around one of our exterior doors. Plus, the screened in porch always needs to be vacuumed, and the landscaping could use a spring clean-up.

If I was Annie from 7th Heaven, I would totally get all this done. She was a Superwoman. A Supermom! I'm just me. Maybe I'll start small...changing the light bulbs. Work my way up to the dusting. (Get it? Work my way up? I crack myself up.)

Writer's Workshop

2011-03-24T08:30:00.000-05:00

"Workaholic...can you carry this upstairs for me? What? No, I'm not carrying anything myself. Why would I?"

"Workaholic, could you get me a glass of water? What? You are right next to the refrigerator and I don't care that you are going the other way."

"Workaholic? Workaholic? Oh...did you just leave the room and had to come back to see what I wanted? Sorry...I forgot what I needed to ask you."

"Oh! Hey! Get back in here! I just remembered."

"Do you realize that I was stuck home all day with the kids and did 5 loads of laundry and went to the grocery store? Now that you are home from working a 16 hour day, I think you should put the kids to bed. Oh, and they need showers too, both of them."

"Did you fix the electric in the basement? Did you take out the trash? Did you remember to feed the dog? Why do you put your dishes in the sink when there is a perfectly empty dishwasher right next to it?"

"Yes, I went to the store. No, I didn't buy any cookies. Or candy. Or ice cream. Or snack cakes."

"What are your plans for this evening?"

"Are you going upstairs?"

This post brought to you by Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop. The prompt I chose (if you couldn't tell) was "Something you do that drives your significant other CRAZY."

NO WAY MOMMY!

2011-03-22T09:47:00.003-05:00

I know that a lot of mommy bloggers start blogging because they are excited about having a kid, and they want to document the journey. And then it turns into something more, a community of people helping you, and encouraging you along your path.

If you read someone for a long time, you see their child's progression from the mom being pregnant to a screaming newborn, to a crawler, and then the toddler stage. At this point, the sleep deprivation of the newborn weeks/months is a happy memory, and they are trying to not bitch slap the thing that replaced their sweet, innocent little baby.

Samantha has officially entered the "I am seriously trying not to toss you out the front door and lock it" stage. She has this...whine. If you tell her no, she immediately starts in with "Uuuueeeee". Or whatever it sounds like...you people know what I am talking about. And, depending on her level of sleep deprivation, the whine will quickly escalate into a screaming, throw-herself-on-the-floor tantrum. Depending on my level of patience, I either whip her up and set her on the stairs, yell at her and tell her to stop crying, or just step over her and leave the room. I am thinking I need to do the latter much. more. often.

The stairs thing is effective if she isn't yet in full tantrum. As is the "stop crying" command. What gets really, really, old is when the full tantrum happens oh...every 5 minutes or so. And you try throwing her in bed to take a nap and she just screams or yells for you or just flat out doesn't sleep. It is a never-ending cycle, especially in public, with anyone who doesn't have a toddler or hasn't had one for 20 years either feeling sorry for you ,or giving you judgemental looks. JUST WAIT PEOPLE.

I feel bad. I feel like all I do is yell. Or snap. (Speaking of...her latest thing to say? "Oh snap!" Which is super cute.) Her other latest thing? "NO WAY MOMMY!" Followed quickly by throwing herself on the floor. (or maybe she just trips and winds up on the floor, you never know)

me: "Sam, do you want milk or water for dinner?"

Sam: "Milk or water. Water or milk. JUICE!"

me: "Sam, you've already had a lot of juice today, do you want milk or water?"

Sam: "Juuuuiiiiiiice!!"

me: "Fine, you are having water."

Sam: "NO WAY MOMMY!!"

Another example that is super, duper frustrating?

me: "Sam, come over here and lay down so I can change your diaper."

Sam: "NO WAY MOMMY!"

And yes, sometimes I do just let her walk around with a diaper that is almost hanging to the floor, because she just. won't. cooperate. You know what happened then? She peed on the chair. Through her diaper. Sigh...

I know other people have it way worse. They have kids with autism, or just kids with much shorter fuses and much more stamina. And attention span. I know I don't have it that bad. Because nothing that been that terrible with her. But this "terrible two's"? Is getting on my nerves. And I've heard that the three's are worse!!

Happy St. Patty's Day!!

2011-03-17T13:47:00.003-05:00

I don't have much to share, other than the below pictures. Have a fun and SAFE holiday, everyone!!

7 Months

2011-03-16T10:34:00.003-05:00

Dear Charlotte,

It was 7 months ago today that we brought you home from the hospital. I hope and pray that I am not always running 2 days late when celebrating your birthday.

You were a cute bundle of joy, and everyone said that you looked nothing like your sister. But I thought you did. I was sure I had a handle on exactly what to do to make you a perfect baby, and I tried enacting my practices right from the start, just like the book said.

But you didn't like that. You cried, and cried, and then screamed. I feel so badly that it took me 6 weeks to realize that you were in pain the whole time. Your belly hurt, and you couldn't make it feel better. Anything that did make it feel a little better just made it much worse later. Once we started you on formula, you became the happy baby I know today.

You love to giggle at your sister, and she takes particular joy in making you belly laugh. She tries to tickle you just like we do, and she talks to you just like K does, and she tries to give you your bottle and change your diaper, all of which you like. You do NOT like it when she hugs you and then pushes you over or head butts you. Which happens on a fairly regular basis.

You have started eating baby food now, and delight in spitting it back at me when I give you too much, or give you a kind you don't like. You love bananas and prunes, and tolerate sweet potatoes, pears and carrots. We are still putting Karo syrup in your bottles to help with the pooping situation, and you are gaining weight like a champ. 75th percentile...good job!!

You are kicking ass at swim class. You float by yourself for a few seconds, and when allowed to go under water you know how to get to the surface. And you are even mastering rolling over from your belly to your back! You hardly ever cry anymore, and your teacher just adores you.

You are also becoming the master sleeper. Not quite as much as your sister, but you do enjoy at least 11 hours a night, and are waking up to scream for your pacifier less and less. Either that, or I don't hear you and you find it on your own. Speaking of...you can now put it in your mouth all by yourself! Good job!

There are a few things that you are a tad bit stubborn about. You will not hold your own bottle. You are quite strong and pull back whenever I try to put your hands on it. You also will not roll over. I know you can, you did it just last night when no one was looking. But if you know someone is in the room to do your bidding, you'd rather lay and SCREAM until someone picks you up. Stubborn...no idea where you go that from.

You love to sit up. You want to see what is going on. Who knows when you will crawl since you scream whenever you are on your belly. You might walk first because you love your little pink car walker. I'm becoming quite impressed by your ability to maneuver around all the furniture and the kitchen cabinets.

All in all darling little Charlie, you are everything a mommy could hope for. You are awesome and beautiful and make me smile every single day. I can't wait to see what you do next. I love you!!!

Frustration and Peace

2011-03-14T11:29:00.002-05:00

I know by now that every mom has "one of those days."

It is inevitable. Your husband drives you to drink, your kids have you pulling your hair out, and the dog makes you yell. Or any combination of the three.

Since about Friday, my neck has been bothering me. It is a constant ache, and the only way I can get comfortable is if I am laying on my back with my head on a nice, cushy pillow. I've had a steady diet of naproxen and ibuprofen the past few days, which does little. I'm making an appointment with a masseuse tomorrow. Damn those salons for closing on Mondays!!

Anyway, the ache in my neck has made my usually moderate temper short. When Sam is insistent that she "helps" to feed Charlie, I get frustrated very easily. When Fonz comes begging for attention anytime I sit on the floor (like to pick up the pictures that Sam has strewn all over her room), I sort of lose it. When Charlie just wants to be held, (poor kid), I just tried to put her to bed. Let the mobile entertain her for a while.

No one ever said that being a mom is easy. In fact, most say that it is the hardest job that they have ever had to do. Labor and delivery is just the beginning! The mind games, the guilt factor, the life change, everything picks at your self-esteem and self-worth and sanity until you feel like the world is spinning out of control.

Fortunately for me, the times when I feel truly overwhelmed are few and far in between. And then I vent on facebook or Twitter or here. And then the kids go to bed, and I pet my dog and my cat and bring down my blood pressure. (Then the guilt for yelling kicks in...but hey, we are all human.) I have help...a LOT of help. K (the girls' caregiver) is home from vacation, I have a massage to look forward to, and spring is just around the corner. Life is looking up, I just need to remember that in THOSE moments.

Thanks to Amber for writing this post this morning.

My Advice to Kids

2011-03-10T14:26:00.004-06:00

Now that I have two kids, I look back at my younger days and think, "Oh shit, if they do anything that I did they are going to wind up in jail." It seems that kids nowadays just can't do anything without getting caught. If they are smart enough to avoid the authorities while doing said stupid shit, they are stupid enough to video it and post it on youtube.

I found this post via Twitter, and had to share it, as well as create my own list. Because I like lists. If you are too lazy to click over, it is life lessons that my all kids need to know.

***Umm...mom? You might want to stop reading now.

1) Taking a Aleve Cold & Sinus and washing it down with a vodka and 7 is not a good idea. It WILL give you a hangover and you will NOT remember what you did that night the next morning. Including but not limited to... how you got home the night before, if you did actually throw up outside the bar, and if you finally told off that ugly chick who always took your seat when you went to pee.

2) Going to a Halloween party as a cop and then waving a pretend gun around in the air is a surefire way to get the police called. And end the party.

3) Speaking of Halloween parties, if you go dressed as a slutty Catholic school girl, people will treat you as though you are a slutty Catholic school girl.

4) When someone stops you on the street and asks you if you have been saved, just say yes. And then run.

5) Learn how to drive a stick shift car and a moped, you never know when this will come in handy.

6) If you tell someone that you are going to put them on a list for a party, PUT THEM ON THE LIST.

7) When someone tells you that you need to stop talking, STOP. You will not "get your point across" if you keep talking.

8) Do not lie to a police officer if he asks if you've been drinking. He knows you have.

9) If you come across a bum fight where they are arguing over whose glass bottles are whose, don't try to step in and "get everyone to calm down."

10) Don't be afraid to read the instructions. That is what they are there for. This includes but is not limited to...tampons, the pill, and condoms. The latter two you will not need until you are out of my house and in college. Not either or...but both.

I hope my girls take my advice to heart...once they are old enough to understand. And only when they are old enough to understand.

PS...I asked a friend for her one thing she'd tell her kids. She said, "Don't get herpes, it doesn't go away." That works on so. many. levels.

Yep...cute.

2011-03-08T20:09:00.003-06:00

I have really cute (and polite) kids. Here is proof from one of them. (might want to turn up your volume)

If you can't see the above video, click here.

And if you don't believe me from that one, here is another.

If you can't see the above video, click here.

I Pledge

2011-03-08T11:07:00.006-06:00

I'm not going to lie...I've read other mom's blog posts and wanted to give them advice. And I have. (I hope that I offended no one in my giving of advice. I tried not to.)

I've also read some and thought they were crazy. Not vaccinating their kids, or breastfeeding in public at the age of five. But I've kept silent.

I try to be a nice person. I find it easier in the blogsphere, because here I can think before I speak. (Not always so easy in real life.)

I have not been the subject of anyone's harsh critisicm here on this blog. And for that I am forever grateful. But I have seen other people who are the recipents of very mean, hateful words. And I didn't like it, and tried to give those people hopeful, supporting messages. To let them know that everyone out here isn't awful. If someday I should be the unlucky girl to get mean comments, I hope my friends out there stick up for me.

So I am signing The Mom Pledge.

Because I am a mom.

And I am a blogger.

And we deserve for our world to be a nice place.

IU SUCKS!

2011-03-02T07:39:00.004-06:00

My 2nd favorite part of a Purdue men's basketball home game. If anyone knows where this stupid dance originated, please let me know. I remember mocking the band for doing it when I was in college at the football games. Leave it to the men's basketball band to make it awesome. Unfortunately, this video just doesn't capture the moment, but I did my best.

Congrats to the Purdue men's team for going undefeated at home this year, and thank you to JaJuan and E'Twaun for being AWESOME! GO BOILERS...BTFU!!!!!!

If you can't see the above video, click here.

Fun, Sun, and Puppies??

2011-02-24T11:29:00.009-06:00

For the past 32 years or so, I have been very conflicted. I can never make up my mind about anything. And when I do, and I am set on a decision, it often turns out to not be the best one.

For example, we went to Mexico for our honeymoon. I was set on a room where you could walk out to the pool. No changing my mind. We get there and the room smelled like mildew. We didn't complain or make them switch rooms, so every time we came back from somewhere it hit us again. Bad decision. (That being said, I was also set on NOT going to Mexico for our honeymoon, and let someone change my mind. Should have stuck to my guns.) After talking to a couple of people, I found out that a lot of the poolside rooms on the first floor had this problem.

I can't think of any other really good examples right now of where I should have not listened to my gut, but I know there are tons in my past. The reason why I am bringing this up now, is that there are a couple of things I would like to do, but can't decide if I should or not. And if I do, am I making the right decision? And if it is wrong, will it just be another example of how I am an idiot?

Firstly, we are looking at taking a vacation. My friend at work was looking at deals on resorts and found this one in Puerto Rico, and mentioned it to us. My other friend mentioned it to her husband, who did all the research and really wants to go. But she is kind of iffy on leaving her kids. So I mention to Workaholic that she wants us to go on vacation with them, and he has decided that we are going. Which sounds great, right? But it is still going to cost money, and then I think that maybe for that much money, where else could we go and have more fun? Is this resort the one we want to go to? Are there any others for as good a deal or are better? Should we go someplace where the airfare is less and we can get a direct flight? See my dilemma??

The other thing I cannot make a decision on is actually a major life change. Getting another dog. I am not sure I am up for it, but I also would really like a younger dog to keep Fonz healthy and active, as well as hope that he can impart some of his wisdom on the new addition. Plus, I have realized since Sampson joined the house that I love it when the dog, cat, kids, and boy are all together and we are one big happy family. Another dog would just make us a little bigger and happier. But here are my issues...

I want a Flat-Coat Retriever. I saw them first while watching the Westminster Club dog show a few years ago. They look like Fonz, but black. And the AKC standard for their character is this...

As a family companion he is sensible, alert and highly intelligent; a light-hearted, affectionate and adaptable friend. He retains these qualities as well as his youthfully good-humored outlook on life into old age. The adult Flat-Coat is usually an adequate alarm dog to give warning, but is a good-natured, optimistic dog, basically inclined to be friendly to all.

The Flat-Coat is a cheerful, devoted companion who requires and appreciates living with and interacting as a member of his family. To reach full potential in any endeavor he absolutely must have a strong personal bond and affectionate individual attention.

Umm...sound like anyone we know???? (hint...his name is Fonz)

Let me be clear...I am not getting a replacement dog. I am not preparing myself for the inevitable day that my Fonz leaves me for the Rainbow Bridge. I simply believe that I am a good home, and now is a good time to add to our family, in the furry friend sense. (as opposed to the two-legged variety)

However, last month, I stumbled across a website of a breeder that I had found a few years ago and realized that she has a litter planned for this year, puppies would be ready in April. Perfect timing!! And then I called her...

Basically, she told me that since I have 2 small children and do not have a fenced in yard, I would be a terrible home. She was afraid that my children would "traumatize" a puppy. And she somehow got in her head that I am anti-invisible fence, since Fonz is boundary trained and doesn't require fencing of any kind to stay in his yard. (Yes, I realize this sounds unbelievable, but he is. I would be more than happy to install invisible fencing at our home. And at the cottage.) This woman made me cry and also made me afraid to contact any other breeders.

But let me tell you something...I am a KICK ASS home. Here is why...

1) Someone is home all day. Either me or the girls' caregiver. (Who happens to love dogs, and puppies) Not many people can say that. Who aren't stay-at-home moms. With small children. Who can traumatize puppies by touching them.

2) I used to teach puppy kindergarten. Which means that I know all about clicker training and positive reinforcement, as well as STRONGLY believe in puppy kindergarten as well as agility and other obedience classes to increase the bond between dog and owner. Oh yeah, Fonz is an AKC Canine Good Citizen as well. And, I am still in contact with my old trainer. Even though I moved away. So any questions could easily be answered with an e-mail or phone call.

3) I used to do agility with Fonz. And I would like to with this new dog, seeing as how Fonz has arthritis that I don't want to aggravate by having him jump all the time.

4) I would also like to train this new dog to be a therapy dog, to use with children. Oh wait...will children in hospitals traumatize a well-trained adult dog??

5) We have a cottage. On a lake. That we go to EVERY weekend. With friends who not only LOVE dogs, but love MY dog. Who think that my dog is kick-ass. And awesome. And think that I deserve all the credit for making him as well-behaved and awesome as he is. (BTW...I do.)

6) I have a big yard, both at home and at the lake. While it is true that neither yards are fenced, and cannot be, I believe in responsible dog ownership as well as safety, and would install an underground fence to keep my new dog safe.

7) When I go on vacation, I don't board my dogs. I have family or friends take care of them. Sounds like such a small thing, but it is just an example of how I take care of my pets.

8) My best friend? Is a vet. As in veterinarian. As in...I have a vet on-call should anything terrible happen. (you know, with the small children) Even if my best friend wasn't a vet, the clinic where I take Fonz and Sampson know me because I take such good care of my pets. Bi-annual blood work, x-rays to check for arthritis and hip dysplasia, and yearly dentals. Again, I am awesome.

So Gail, you ask...you seem to have the utmost confidence in yourself and why wouldn't you just contact another breeder to see if you can get a Flat-Coat from them?

Here is my response to that...I am not even sure I should get a purebred dog. I know all about the bill in Missouri that shuttered the doors to hundreds, if not thousands of (puppy mill) breeders. There are millions of dogs out there that need a home as awesome as mine. And I have even found a couple online that I am not entirely opposed to meeting.

I am afraid, however, of getting a rescue that I cannot make my own. Who may come with their own special set of issues that I cannot change. And I know it is silly, and Jennifer would kill me for saying it, but I just feel in my heart that getting a puppy where I can start from scratch is the best for me and my family.

That being said, this breeder traumatized me. And I am scared of being told NO again. I know that Flat-Coats are not just black Golden Retrievers. I truly believe that Fonz has the heart and personality of a Flat-Coat more than he does of a Golden. That (and health) is the most important to me. I think that getting another Golden would just set me up for disappointment.

Flat-Coat breeders are like many other breeders of lesser-known pure bred dogs, notoriously protective of their dogs. Not that this is a bad thing. Unless you are a good home who is being told no.

With all that out...my other fear is that I am inherently lazy. Would I really do what it takes to make a new puppy a great dog?

For that answer to that, I can thank my parents.

They bred into me the fear of doing something wrong.

I know how high the stakes are for proper training and early socialization. And so I know that I would do what it takes. Getting up early, forsaking an hour or two of sleep to go to class or take a walk. Or run. Maybe this dog will get me to run. Maybe this dog will inspire me to get into shape.

Here is my utmost fear...that I will make the wrong decision. That I go through the process of finding a good breeder and getting a puppy and realizing it was somehow a mistake. Or that I decide to get a rescue and wish that I had gone with a puppy. My past experience with myself where I set my mind to something seems to lead only in disappointments. A trip doesn't go as planned, weekend plans have to be changed due to unavoidable circumstances, or an afternoon shopping trip has to be aborted. (Yes, the last thing can and has ruined my day...of course, that was pre-Pristiq.) I think I just get my hopes so high that things will go the way that I want, and I am not sure how to handle it if they don't.

I have wanted another dog for years. For the first time in a long time, I am looking seriously at the possibility. I have done my research on Flat-Coats, reading books and websites and going to the IKC dog show in Chicago to talk to breeders. I just wish that I had the confidence to make a decision and stick with it and be confident that it is the right decision. I am not exactly sure where I am going with all of this, as I say in many of my blog posts. Any suggestions? What should I do, dear readers??? Help a girl out!

Twitter and the Joining of the Rest of the World

2011-02-23T15:45:00.006-06:00

I am pretty slow to embrace new technololgy.

I am sure that the Mac is the best computer ever invented, but I don't want to learn how to use it, so I'll stick with my PCs.

I joined facebook about 2 years after I got my first invitation. I thought my friend Jennifer was nuts for joining that thing that was "only for college kids." I now constantly check it, if only out of boredom. And I think that anyone who I am close to in real life that doesn't have a facebook page is shit out of luck if they want to see pictures of my kids.

I got a smartphone only when it was required to work at home part-time. I do not know how I ever lived without it. Even if it can land the space shuttle, I don't know how to tell it to do that.

And now, people. I have joined Twitter. I still really don't understand it. But I am now a proud member.

This is how I think it works. You have your own Twitter page. And you pick people you like that you want to follow. And whenever those people "tweet", it shows up on your own Twitter page. In addition, if you have a smart phone, you can download an app that you just click on and you can look at all the wonderful twits that people have tweetered. Or something like that.

I think you can also get all of those tweets texted to you. But that could be a lot of texts. So I am not going that route.

I am going to try to put a little icon on my page somewhere telling you how to follow me on Twitter. Until then, I'll just tell you that my handle is @dogsarehome. I'll let you guess how I came up with that one.

I don't plan on doing anything spectacular on Twitter other than posting rambling tirades against people I hate. Oh wait...140 characters?? Crap. Maybe I'll just say hi every once in a while. To the 2 people who will follow me. Sounds fun, right??

Random Tidbits About My Life

2011-02-18T11:52:00.008-06:00

I have realized that it has been entirely too long since I have written anything down, so today you will get a post full of my random thoughts. Which I supposed is what this here space is supposed to be.

Last night I was tired, like...dead tired. I think my bed is trying to kill me, but that is another post for another time. Anyway, I was laying on the bed, attempting to change the channel without moving my fingers, and Sam walks up to me. She gingerly placed her soft little hand on my cheek, looked me right in the eyes, and said, "Mommy, I horny."

Outfit courtesy of Matt's uncle and his wife, who spend part of their time in Hong Kong.

I took the girls to the doctor yesterday. It was Sam's 2 year check-up (a month late) and Charlie's 6 month check-up. Poor kid had to get shots. (Wait...poor me, since she was up 3 times screaming at me last night.) Anyway, here are their stats.

Samantha: 33 1/2 inches tall-30th percentile; 23 1/2 lbs-10th percentile

Charlotte: 26 1/2 inches tall-76th percentile; 17 1/2 lbs-75th percentile

I am hoping that neither one of them is a wuss, because as soon as Charlie catches up with Sam, there could be some serious ass-kicking going on in my house.

Sampson LOVES Fonz. Every opportunity he gets, he rubs on his face, lays by him, or generally tries to cuddle. Last night, Fonz had it and snapped at Sampson. I was proud of him for standing up to himself. And then annoyed because Sampson wanted to sleep right next to me all night. Which is not helpful for tossing and turning.

Why did you bring this thing into our house??

I guess I could complain about my mattress now. It hurts me. My back, my neck, generally my whole body aches from the time I lay down on it to after my shower in the morning. And I LOVE laying in bed, so you see the problem. I think the solution is a new mattress, and I think the new mattress needs to be a Tempur-Pedic. Everyone who has one raves about them. But considering they are over three grand, a new mattress may have to come in another lifetime.

Speaking of my body, I have that belly fat that many moms get...that squishy fat roll that doesn't go away without at least a little bit of effort, and I have put absolutely no effort into making it go away, in fact, I probably have put more effort into making it worse. So I love to squish the squishiness, and Sam sees me do this, and the other day, she came up to me and pushed on it a few times, looked up at me, giggled and ran away. I can't wait for my mommy make-over.

Did I tell you that our snowmobile caught on fire? So yeah. Apparently bad gas (read: old gas) can get chunks in it, and those chunks get caught places, and then other places are starved of fluid or something, and then a fire ensues. The kicker of it is I haven't even ridden the damn thing this year. We hope to have it fixed for next year. Since it was almost 60 degrees yesterday and we'd have to get another blizzard for the trails to get in riding condition.

Kids say the darndest things:

Charlie was crying yesterday, and Sam looked at her and said, "Charlie, stop crying, NOW." Hmmm...I have no idea where she got that from. (daddy)

I unpacked a bunch of 6-9 month clothes for Charlie, and Sam decided to have a fashion show. She pulled on a pair of brown velour sweatpants that are capris on her, and changed into an orange long-sleeved shirt and posed in front of the mirror. After doing the turn and look over her shoulder that you see all the actresses do on the red carpet, she goes, "Awww...cute!" I'm glad my 2 year old has no self-esteem problems.

When Sam talks on the phone to whoever it is she talks to, she has some stand-by lines...

"Whaddya doin'?

"So..."

"A-hahahahaha!" (giggling)

"Umm...yeah!"

"K-bye!"

We were in the pediatrican's office yesterday and I was shocked at how the go-to toy for toddlers was a toy cell phone. Sam's, of course, looks like a Blackberry, and she not only talks on it, but texts. Way ahead of her time, that one.

Charlotte, meanwhile, is quite coming into her own. She has a very short fuse, as in..."I'm laughing and happy and today is the greatest day ever OHMYGOD GIVE ME A BOTTLE NOW!!!"

She also refuses to roll over. She can, but just will. not. do. it. She'll cry and scream and scoot across the room rather than go from her stomach to her back.

Also? She is one of those kids that everyone tells me about who gets up at the same time every morning, no matter what time they go to bed. I am having a hard time with this, as Sam sleeps 12 hours no matter what. At least she is happy in the morning, it is her best time of day. Until she gets hungry, that is.

I suppose that is enough randomness for the day.

Happy Birthday Sweetheart!

2011-02-08T10:00:00.000-06:00

***This post was originally started yesterday, but then I got busy with work and couldn't finish it. So his birthday was yesterday.

Today is Workaholic's birthday.

I would tell you how old he is, but a) he'd probably get mad at me since he now reads this blog and b) ... I don't have a b.

The first thing he said to me this morning when I told him HAPPY BIRTHDAY was, "Yeah, I'm an old man now." Which, ironically, is the same thing his dad said to him when he wished him a happy 60th birthday last month. (notice I don't care about telling the world how old my father-in-law is, because I know for a fact that he does not read this blog)

Because I am such a terrific wife, I have a fabulous present that was bought and wrapped 3 weeks ago, a gorgeous cake that I made from scratch and decorated myself today, and have a wonderful dinner party planned with his closest family and friends. Which is to say that I did none of that and we are only going out to dinner with his parents because his mom planned it.

I feel it is important on this day to not badmouth my husband, as I try not to usually do. (OK, sometimes I don't try very hard, but I do try!) Instead, I'll tell you why he is awesome.

1) He has a great sense of humor. He makes me laugh all the time. I steal his material for my blog. Which makes me look funny. And anything that makes me look good makes me happy.

2) He loves me. 'Nuff said.

3) He is a great father. He plays with the girls and bathes the girls, and generally does whatever I tell him to. He'll ask Sam, "Are you my buddy?" And she always says yes.

4) He knows when to defer to the person who knows more than him. The only times I know more is when we are talking about dog training or the Baby Whisperer. So he'll defer to me then. And that makes me happy.

5) He is a Boy Scout. OK, not really. But he prepares for the worst for everything. The only time this does not come in handy is when you are in a rush and he is busy preparing. But it does all work out in the end.

The list could go on and on, but I'll stop at five. My point it, I love him, and he is a day older today. Which just happens to put him a year older.

I will leave you with some texts I have received from him, to illustrate his humor. (I'm sorry if you don't get some of them, I generally don't either)

"Holy crap, look to your left, there are flying monkeys."

"Are you naked?"

"It helps if you ask the person with you to punch your head."

"Are you naked?"

"Yes, I am a dumbass."

"Are you naked?"

"The Green Bay Packers won the World Series."

"You are welcome, I'm glad that you feel like the luckiest wife ever, that makes me happy."

"Are you naked?"

"Yer a doucher."

"I'm gittin me 1 burbon 1 scotch 1 beer" (this was sent while he was at work)

"R u ignoring me?"

"Are you naked?"

Kids, Dogs, and Hugs

2011-02-04T21:09:00.006-06:00

It is no secret that I love my dog. I mean, he is the best dog ever. He is a typical Golden in that he is always there, ready for affection. He seeks it out. If you are a guest in my home, and are sitting in a chair in the living room, there is a good chance he'll walk up and bump your hand with his nose. He is easy to love, and easy to hug, and easy to pet.

Sometimes I wonder if I give him too much affection because it is so easy. And when I say give him too much affection, I mean too much affection in front of Sam. From the very beginning, I told people that my kids would have to love dogs. They would have to love Fonz, because they would no choice. He is here, and you had better get used to him.

It isn't that Sam doesn't like Fonz. I think she does anyway. But he is so big and she is so small. He used to knock her over pretty consistently, until she got a little more steady on her feet. Her face is still the perfect height to get slapped in the tail by a happy wag. And while she doesn't greet me at the door every night, he does, and he always gets a little bit of attention for it.

So she sees that. And she sees me tell him good-bye when we go someplace. She never seeks him out to give him affection, (although to be honest, she really doesn't seek anyone out to give them affection). And I wonder sometimes if she gets a little jealous. Jealousy mixed with stubbornness does not bode well.

The other day, she had a plastic bottle that came with one of her babies. And out of nowhere, she whipped it across the living room and hit him in the head. I was shocked (not really, because she really likes to whip things across the room) and I sprang into action. I sternly told her that she was NOT to throw things and hit Fonz in the head. And then I told her to apologize to him.

The stand-off began.

Sam has a way of shutting down and getting very quiet when she doesn't want to do something. Either that, or she throws a screaming temper tantrum. But, when she knows that she is supposed to do something that she doesn't want to do, she gets quiet. And when she wouldn't apologize to Fonz, I made her sit on the step.

And so she cried. And she tried slipping off the step and hugging me. And then she cried some more. And she tried going to K for help. And K told her that she needed to apologize to Fonz. And then she cried some more, got quiet, cried some more.

After about 15 minutes of this, perhaps more, she finally whispered, "Sorry Fonz".

YES!! Mom wins!! Consistency DOES pay off!!!

But it made me wonder...when she hurts Charlie (another story for another day) or me or K, she is very quick to apologize. She apologizes for things that she shouldn't even apologize for. She is the first to say "Bless you" when someone sneezes. She always says "please" and "thank you" (sometimes both-while signing "thank you"). So why this reluctance to say "Sorry" to Fonz?

Does she see the love I give so easily to Fonz and wonder why I don't give it to her as well? It isn't that I don't hug and kiss her and tell her I love her, (because I do) it is just that she is always moving. And so mostly, the affection happens on her terms. At night, before bed. Sometimes, during the day, I'll ask for a hug, and she'll come running over to me and veer away at the last second because she was distracted by something shiny on the ground. So you see what I am dealing with here.

I love my dog. I love my kids. I love my husband. Trust me Sam...there is enough love to go around. I guess I need to make sure that next time something shiny distracts her, I grab her and hug her anyway.

One Bad Hour

2011-02-01T22:52:00.003-06:00

Do you ever have one of those hours?

You know...the kind where you wonder why you had kids?

Because your 2 year old thinks that just because she says "Plleeeaaase!", she can run with scissors and stab her eye out?

And when she takes a nap, while she no longer takes her diaper off and pees all over her bed, she now takes the lid off her sippy cup of milk. And then spills it all over her pajamas (which she also took off), her blankets, her pillow, her sheet, the floor, and the wireless router which is plugged in underneath her bed.

And then you watch her climb up onto the bar-height chairs, crawl like a monkey over the countertop to get to the cookies that your dear husband left on the counter. Which apparently are now in her reach.

And when your husband walks in the house at 9:30 at night (No...he was not late because of the SNOWPOCALYPSE 2011!) she is all angelic and you just want to go hide under the bed. With the cat.

And that was just an hour.

2011-01-29T17:21:00.004-06:00

The other day, while looking for an old post, I stumbled across this one.

It seems a lifetime ago, where I spent my weekends drinking my life away with my in-laws and their friends, staying up until 4am playing Wii.

I guess it was 2 lifetimes ago...Sam and Charlie's.

This weekend, we came to the lake, went out to dinner, and, since we had a sitter, decided to continue the party by going to the pub.

The pub is a little bar on the corner, about a 1/4 mile from the cottage, and Karoyke Joe is there on Friday nights. I sing "The Devil Went Down to Georgia." Since I'd already had 3 or 4 beers by the time I got there, and I had missed Joe so, I drank one more Bud Light and decided it was time to resume my stand at the mike.

And sing I did. Here is the problem with me when I go up to sing that song. I get really nervous. So I drink as much as possible during the fiddle parts. I usually down almost an entire beer in the splan of what, 3 minutes?

Which does not usually bode well for the rest of the evening. There was more singing, and dancing, and lots and lots of laughter. We actually had a really good time.

We closed the place down. We got home. We got in the hot tub, I took care of Workaholic. (Let's just say he was in the bathroom, and didn't feel so hot. I didn't take care of him in any other way, you perves!) And then I went to bed.

And then I woke up. And I remembered why parents of young children don't do this. I had a headache (and we were all out of Excedrine!) and I was just. so. tired. All I did was laze around and taken care of Charlie until she was ready for another nap, at which point I took a nap.

The thing is, I am NOT a good singer. And that is why I generally only sing the one song, I am comfortable with it, and kind of kick ass at it. But other songs? Like Sweet Caroline? And maybe a Bon Jovi song? Not usually my cup o' tea. I have no idea how many other songs I sang. On Sunday, our friends came over and told me that they had decided while I was singing that I have "charisma." Oh boy.

Let's just say that it is a good thing no one was recording the singing at the Pub on Friday night. I will say that having "charisma" is really. hard. work. Especially if you have to down 10 Bud Lights to get it.

A Video is Better Than Nothing

2011-01-25T22:19:00.002-06:00

Here is Sampson while trying to go to sleep, if you turn up your volume, you can hear his squeaky-purr and him licking his tail. Yes, he fits right into a house where the dog would rather dig for rocks in the lake than swim or retrieve, the dad sleeps on the floor of the bathroom (by choice) and the daughter will sleep until 3pm. Welcome home Sampson.

Yes...I am Old

2011-01-25T15:31:00.001-06:00

***Warning…if you don’t like vulgarity or profane language and general ranting…then move on folks!***

Last Saturday, Workaholic and I decided to go to the Purdue/Michigan State men’s basketball game. Rephrase, I decided that Workaholic needed to go. Rephrase, Dr. Nadene decided that Workaholic needed to go. It had been more than 10 years since he attended a game in Mackey Arena, and this was a BIG game. ESPN College GameDay was there, Michigan State was ranked 17 in the nation. BIG GAME.

I won’t tell you the guilt I received after telling him that Dr. Nadene demanded his attendance. I will say that there was text after text of, “Can I stay home” and “I need to work in order to get paid.” I finally told him we’d get a sitter so he could work and I would go by myself. After that was sent, he came home.

There was also a mad rush to get said sitter. I called my go-to favorite, who was still sleeping. At noon. And her mom’s phone was dead. So I posted on facebook and sent texts galore trying to find someone. Then I got a returned phone call and WHEW! we got our sitter.

So we get to the game, after a delicious dinner of country fried steak and mashed potatoes and wonderfully bland gravy, and the place is a-rockin’. Music is playing, fans are randomly cheering and chanting, and the Paint Crew is excited and ready to rattle the Spartans. We get to our seats, and in front of us are sitting “The Newlyweds.”

I call them this because I am fairly certain that they just graduated in May, got married last summer, and this is their first basketball game NOT in the student section. The guy, who was sitting in front of me, was tall and wide. Not like, Big and Tall kind of tall and wide, but tall and wide enough to completely block my view of the court when he was standing. Which he did. Often. His new wife kept telling him to sit down, and he would say, and I quote, “I don’t have to sit down, I can stand the whole game if I want to.” Umm…yeah, maybe if you are in the student section. But not here in the alumni section where people are over the age of 30 and actually want to WATCH the game.

(Now, don’t get me wrong. I like to stand and jump up and down just as much if not more than the next person. But I do it at the appropriate time. Which is not at a free throw. Or just before a layup. And if I know that I am blocking the people behind me, I sit down after the excitement, rather than keep standing while the team is simply dribbling down the court and NO ONE else in the entire section is standing.)

Speaking of inappropriate blocking of people behind you, Mrs. Newlywed had a sign. It was this little State Farm sponsored sign that they had given out in the morning to wave during the Game Day show on ESPN. OK chica. You went to the show. Big deal…I have two kids and a real job and a house and live 2 ½ hours (for all intensive purposes) away. I did not go through what it took me to get to this game to SEE THE BACK OF YOUR FUCKING SIGN!!!

Speaking of seeing the backs of things, I saw entirely too much kissy-kissy smoochy-smoochy, butt-grabbing, inappropriate crotch touching during the game. Hey assholes…GO GET A FUCKING ROOM!! These two actually STOOD UP during the Kiss-Cam portion of the game and tried to get on the Jumbotron. Which I couldn’t see because lard ass was standing in front of me the whole time and was blocking not only the court, but also the Jumbotron. You know, that huge things that hangs from the ceiling? Yeah, couldn’t see it.

What made things worse was how crowded and packed in we were. You see, rarely does a game truly “sell-out”. All of the tickets might be sold, but there are always people who can’t make it to the game, even though they are holding tickets. This game? Was a true sell-out. (Minus the two tickets of my sister's...she couldn't go because her kids were sick.) So for the majority of the first half, not only was I staring at a big back and “State Farm”, I was also sitting sideways on the front half of my bleacher seat with my knees in Mr. Newlywed’s back. Could it have had to do with all the jumping up he did? No, surely not. Their butts fit comfortably on their bleachers, whereas somewhere down the line on ours, someone was getting more than their fair share.

All in all, the assholes only ruined the first half of the game for me. And yes, I did pretty much miss a few of the plays in the last couple of minutes, but at that point, everyone was jumping up and down. Workaholic missed the whole game because he switched places with me after I proclaimed (loudly) “I CAN’T EVEN SEE THE FUCKING JUMBOTRON!!” Good thing he doesn’t really care about sports.

Moral of the story? When you go to a game, especially one where people in the stands CARE about what is going on down on the court, be considerate. Understand who is around you and deal with the fact that you are no longer a college student. You are not the first class to ever graduate and have to come back, and trust us…the rest of us survived. And we have given way more money than you have. SO SIT YOUR ASS DOWN. Or at least go get a room.

Introducing...Sampson!!

2011-01-24T21:35:00.000-06:00

Before Christmas, Sam was sitting at our bar in the kitchen and Workaholic asked her, "Hey Sam, what do you want for Christmas?" And she answered, clear as can be, "Puppy!" We just looked at each other.

As it turns out, all she wanted was the puppy coloring book.

But that two sentence conversation got the wheels turning.

And a couple of weeks later, after spending some time at his cousin's house, Workaholic says, "Maybe we should get a cat."

Oh. My. God. This is coming from the man who does not like cats. At all. He thinks all they do is attack you and pee in your house. And we are talking NOT in the litter box. He and his father have re-done many houses, and whenever there have been feline occupants, they claim that they can smell the cat pee in the carpet when they pull it up. So I sort of blew him off, this is just another one of his hair-brained ideas that he will forget about in a week.

Except he kept bringing it up. And he asked his cousin, who has a Bengel cat, where she got it. At that point, I said that if we get a cat, it will not be some exotic crossbreed, but it will be a RESCUE. You know, so one less cat will die. And then he started looking on petfinder.

Are you kidding me? He isn't forgetting! And he is talking about where to put a litter box, and will we take it to Michigan this summer???

Fast forward to 2 weeks ago. A nice woman from Last Chance Rescue came over and brought Sampson!! He is about 5 months old (apparently it isn't kitten season, so 8 week olds are a little hard to come by) and super playful. He has been in a foster home with a family that had at least one other cat and dog. He is fully vetted, litter-trained, and cute. AND, he comes when called. (Workaholic likes to say that we ordered a cat on the internet and had it delivered to the house.)

Our first night with him went very well. He didn't hide from Sam, or the Fonz, or Workaholic. He definitely wanted to be in the same room as us. When we turned off all the lights and went upstairs, he started to follow us, and then apparently changed his mind. A few minutes later, Workaholic saw him doing circles in the living room, meowing, like, "Hey! Where did everybody go?" One little whistle, he looked up, and sprinted up the stairs to join us.

Sam wouldn't go to bed, she kept saying, "Sampson, what're you doin'?" And, "Cat! Cat!!" Then she'd run up to him, stop and scrunch up her shoulders and giggle, and then run around in circles as he got the zoomies around our bedroom. Then it would be, "Where's the toy?" (Sampson's foster mom sent his favorite toy, along with a nice letter telling us about him.) Or, "Where'd he go?"

This cat has just fit right into our house, right into our lifestyle. And I don't think he has gone to the bathroom (other than the taco meat incident) anywhere except in or near his litterbox. I say near because I let it get pretty dirty and he went on the mat right outside it. He showed me!

To say that Samantha loves this cat is an understatement. The poor dear lets her carry him all over the house, all day. He occasionally gets a break from her by watching TV and batting at the moving people on the screen. He totally entertains himself, and sleeps in between Workaholic and me at night...that is, after I bring him in from Sam's room. She generally calls him CAT or KATKE, occasionally the word Sampson will come out of her mouth. Charlie and him get along really well too, he even lets her share *his* activity mat. (the one that was hers before he came along)

He tries so hard to snuggle up to Fonz, and I must say that Fonz is getting much better about tolerating him. He actually let Sampson rub his face with his back the other day without walking away in bitter disgust!

All in all, except for the litterbox situation, I have to say that it is nice having a kitten around. He is entertaining and I really enjoy being able to have him warm my lap when watching TV or working on the computer. I'd show a picture, but he won't stop moving enough for me to get a good one. That and the fact that he is black makes it impossible to see him when he is sleeping. I'll keep trying though.

Daddy's In Charge

2011-01-22T09:51:00.003-06:00

There is one thing you have to understand about my job. I am an accountant, but not a CPA. So I have a week a month where I am busy closing out the previous month, and then one month of just hell. You are goinggoinggoing, non stop it seems. And when the year end deadline approaches, no one is ever done and you are just slamming to get everything accomplished.

My deadline was yesterday at 5pm.

When I got home around 8pm (because we blew the deadline by a few hours) I was tired, sick, and ready to crash. My sweet, sweet Workaholic made me dinner (Charlie was already in bed) and granted me permission to do what I really wanted...to go to bed.

So that is exactly what I did...I went upstairs, washed my face, brushed my teeth, took some NyQuil D (LOVE it!) and went to bed. A short while later, daddy had to bring Sam in to see that indeed, mommy was asleep. She whispered, "Nite mommy, I love you." Aww....

I am wondering if that was the last time he saw her for the evening.

You know that stereotype where the kids go wild when daddy is in charge? Yeah....

When I got up this morning, refreshed from my 11 hour sleep, this is what greeted me....

Living room? Trashed.

Kitchen? Trashed.

Basement? Trashed.

The living room was typical, toys EVERYWHERE, except perhaps for the contents of my purse were also on the floor. How did she get to my purse?

The kitchen...ah, the kitchen. The taco meat was still in the skillet on the stove. (Did I mention we got a cat? More on that later.) The garbage was pulled out of its cabinet and overflowing. The countertops were completely covered with dishes and paper towels and other various crap.

The basement had days worth of toys strewn everywhere, which really wasn't anything new, except the contents of the bar refrigerator had been emptied into Sam's shopping cart.

So I get up, and go down to the kitchen, and just sigh. It was at this point that Workaholic tells me, "Oh yeah, Sam's room smells like shit. The cat got locked in there and pooped (had diarrhea) under her dresser. She must've gotten into something."

First of all, the cat is a he. His name is Sampson. But that is another post. Second, I wonder what it was he got into? Perhaps that taco meat left out all night on the stove??

But the best part? All of this was done because Workaholic fell asleep on the couch. He let Sam nap until 8pm, and then just couldn't hang. So SHE stayed up until 1am, and he was randomly woken as she whacked him on the chest and giggled.

I gotta say...its all OK. They had a great night together, no real destruction was done, and he completely cleaned everything up in the morning.

Way to live up to the stereotype sweetheart. I guess they DO exist for a reason.

The Paier Saga

2011-01-18T21:20:00.004-06:00

In our house, one of the most treasured items is a pacifier. Otherwise known as a paier (Pie-er).

Sam was addicted to her paier from the start...we couldn't leave the hospital because she was so upset about being in the carseat until we shoved a pacifier in her mouth, and voila! The girl was happy.

It was actually pretty easy to break Sam of her addiction before Charlie was born...out of sight, out of mind. One night, I forgot it downstairs and got Sam ready for bed and read her books. Then I laid her in the crib and told her I would be back with the pacifier in a minute. When she didn't cry, I didn't give it to her...and that was that.

But then Charlie came into the picture. It had only been a couple of months since we had hidden all of the paiers, and she fell off the bandwagon in a New York minute. It didn't take long for her to start stealing them from Charlie, and it wasn't long after that when she learned that stealing from Charlie is not a good idea.

But here is the thing. Charlie is not some pacifier-addicted infant. She likes (needs) them when she goes to sleep, and that is only because I forced it on her. Other than that, she really could care less. She sucks for a second, and then it falls out of her mouth into her waiting sister's grubby little hands.

So we try as much as possible to keep them out of Sam's sight. They are in Charlie's crib, but out of Sam's reach. (or so we thought) We take them when we go out, so Sam knows that the diaper bag is usually a treasure-trove of paiers, so I try to keep the diaper bag high on a counter. I know it has to be hard for her, and when she is tired it is the worst. And let's be honest, I am the most inconsistent mother in the world. When we are traveling or out somewhere, if she needs that damn pacifier to keep her from throwing a huge fit, then she'll get the damn pacifier. And then she usually goes to bed with it, and the next day is meltdown after meltdown. Workaholic, however, has much less tolerance for poor Sam's addiction.

Tonight, Sam found a pacifier somewhere in the house. I swear she hides them and pulls them out when she thinks no one is looking. She even tries to pretend like she is giving her baby the pacifier and then sneaks it into her mouth, watching us out of the corner of her eye. If she sees us see her with it, she whips it out and smiles really big. We are in trouble in 10 years.

So, I am working late in the basement office, and this is what I hear.

Workaholic: "Sam, what is that in your mouth?"
Sam: "Mhff"
Workaholic: "I can't understand you with that pacifier in your mouth."
Sam: (takes pacifier out) "Hi Daddy!"
Workaholic: "Let's go upstairs and read some books."
Sam: "NO!"
(sudden and loud crying of a heartbroken (or injured) toddler)

I then get a guest in my office.

me: "What's the matter Sam?"
Sam: "AAAHHHH!"
me: "Sam, stop crying. What's wrong?"
Sam: "What happened???" (imagine a dramatic teenager sobbing)
me: "I don't know, why don't you tell me why you are crying?"
Sam: (big fat tears are rolling now) "Paier!!!"
me: "What about the paier?"
Sam: "What happened to paier??!?" (I swear her voice even cracked)
me: "I think daddy took it. Babies need paiers, like Charlie. Little 2 year old girls don't need paiers."
Sam: "But WHY???!!!!?" (cue the soap opera audition)

And she then decided that she was getting nowhere with me and go to seek out Daddy, the Holder of the Paier. Attention span of a gnat, that one. No idea where she gets it.

Two

2011-01-08T15:45:00.000-06:00

My Dear Sam,

It has been two whole years since I gave birth to you. I'm not going to lie, it doesn't seem like yesterday.But there are things that I won't ever forget.

I can clearly remember seeing that you were a girl (and announcing it to everyone in the room), and I can picture your daddy working on his cell phone while I was in labor (this would be AFTER my epidural, but before you were born.). I remember your grandmas coming into the room to meet you and crying, and watching as daddy called Papa O because he was in Florida and telling him you were a red-headed little girl. And I can still see your uncles standing over you in your car seat in the living room on your first day home. They just towered over you!

Your first night home was rough, but apparently you were just cold. And then daddy said that you were being "irrational" a few days later when you wouldn't stop screaming. We took lots of pictures, because that was all we could do. That, and laugh. You looked really cute when you screamed.

At 7 1/2 weeks, you started sleeping through the night, and haven't stopped since. Grandma didn't like that we put you in a straightjacket to sleep, but hey...it worked!

I took the first of what became many pictures of you with beer. Lately, your favorite thing has been to ask K what she is drinking. And you go through the list...Milk? Water? Juice? Beer?

Everyone fell in love with you. You charmed the pants off of anyone who looked into your big beautiful eyes, with your super long eyelashes. There was the night that you were "A baby, in a bar!" You entertained an entire table of adults by playing "Soo big!" with them for a half hour straight. We took the first of many boat rides, and you finally learned to let the boat rock you to sleep.

The first time we fed you baby food, for some reason I decided peas would be a good start. Daddy kept shoveling it in, and you were making these gagging noises, and gagging faces, and he kept shoveling it in and shoveling it in, and the next thing we knew, you projectile puked all over the place. We laughed some more.

For a while there, you sure liked to give people the bird. Not sure why, but it made us chuckle. You'd get this glint in your eyes, smile a crooked smile, and your timing was impeccable. And the first time we put you in a swimming pool, you loved it, but started crying as soon as I brought out the camera. Go figure.

You are such a good daughter, but you really do know what you want. You already want to pick out your clothes in the morning (always your "meow" shirt) and your pajamas at night. (MOUSE!) And you are smart too! One time, daddy decided not to keep a very close eye on you and you tumbled down the stairs. But you learned pretty quick not to go too near the top! We made you tough, and good thing too, as you wipe out and hit your head almost every day, to this day.

Your super intelligence is evident every. single day. The other day, daddy came out of the bathroom to tell me that you had tried to put in a tampon. He was able to show me exactly how it is done, at least the way I do it. You take such good care of your babies, rocking them, swaddling them, shush-patting them, feeding them, giving them a pacifier...just like how I do with Charlie. Whenever someone sneezes, you are quick to say "Bless you!" You love to "work" on one of our phones or laptops, and to see you wandering around the living room, baby in one hand, bottle in the other, and phone perched on your shoulder as you are jabbering away to whoever it is you talk to would make even the Grinch crack a smile.

Your love your little sister more than just about anything. It is scary how much she looks like you...the world had better watch out when the two of you are on the loose! You are so funny...you love to make us laugh. Even when you flat out fall down on your face because you tripped over your feet, you don't cry...you look to see if we are smiling. Your smile and your laugh are contagious, it is hard to be upset or sad when you are around. I wish I could better convey just how awesome you are...and how much your daddy and I love you. It has been the best two years of our lives since you were born.

I love you, little girl. Whole bunches and bunches and bunches. Happy Birthday!

It's a New Year?

2011-01-04T17:59:00.004-06:00

I always have a little trouble converting to a new year. Sure, sure, I was there at midnight when we were all, "Happy New Year!" and kissed and shit. But it doesn't really mean much to me until I go to write a check and then I'm like, "Holy crap...where did 2010 go?!" This is the year I am NOT going to have a baby!

I'm also not really into resolutions. Mainly because I am not much of a goal person, I may make them, but don't usually achieve them. So what is the point of making them if you are just going to break them? Ann Curry on the Today Show though made what seemed like a really simple resolution...wake up every morning with a thought of thanks. Basically, be grateful for what ya got. It is now January 4th, and I have failed so far on this one. But I've decided to keep trying. And if I don't do it in the morning, maybe at night. When I'm a bit more coherant. Instead of thinking, "WHY??? WHY DO I HAVE TO GET OUT OF BED...EVER???"

I think resolutions can be a great idea...like my friend Pamela is doing a Couch to 5K thing. Which would be cool, except I hate running. Or exercising. And the only time I have to exercise (other than right at this moment) is when I would normally be sleeping. And that, my friends, just isn't going to happen. But it would be pretty cool for me to be able to say that I ran a 5K. My dad used to do them all the time, and I know at least one of my sisters has done them. But her thighs are smaller than mine.

Another resolution that I would make if I believed in them is to blog more. Especially about my kids. I'd like to try to make this place a diary of sorts for remembering stuff that I forget. Like right now, Sam has a three inch tall, plastic Elmo figurine, and she has wrapped a little piece of cloth around it, is holding it to her shoulder and going, "Shh, shh, shhhh"...she is putting Elmo to sleep. And then she ran out of the room, into Charlie's room, and back into our room screaming, "Mommy! Charlie awake!!" When I tell her to go tell daddy, she runs around to the other side of the bed and screams, "Daddy!! Charlie awake!!" And when he pretends to be asleep, she starts yelling his name instead of daddy. Which is just so. friggin'. cute. Another thing that is cute? Charlie is wearing an outfit right now that Sam was walking in. (3-6 month jeans and a Purdue T-shirt) Charlie is big for her age, and Sam is little.

So those are my resolutions. Consider the Couch to 5K program. Blog more. And be thankful. What are your resolutions?

A Trip to the Mall

2011-01-02T16:57:00.005-06:00

I love three day weekends. They are awesome. The first two days of my weekend, I did approximately 65,000 loads of laundry, vacuumed my house, went to Target and ran a couple of other errands, and stayed up until midnight on New Years' Eve. Which shocked me that I made it that far. (I think a fantastic meal helped.) (Mom...I ate SPINACH! And LIKED it!)

Today, my girls decided that they were really tired and slept in. Like, Sam got up at 11:30...and only then because she heard me in the shower. After a while of wandering around the house and picking up after her, I decided that sucked and we should get out. Ever since I pulled her from daycare, I have mommy guilt for because she doesn't get to play with other kids very much. So I thought, "Hey, we could go to the mall! They have a play area there! And it's free!"

I should've known how this trip was going to go when I couldn't get Sam to put on her shoes or socks, or pants. (She has a thing against pants, it is a rare day that she has them on the whole time. Shoes and socks too, for that matter.) So that was tantrum #1. After being put on the step a couple of times for time out, she relented and got excited about seeing "the kids." Poor Charlie, meanwhile, was patient for a time in her car seat, but then she got a little annoyed and started yelling at me. So goes life. Fortunately, movement settles her, and she was fine once we headed to the car.

Life was uneventful during the car ride until I heard from the back seat, "Mom, Charlie fell." Umm....OK.

We made it to the mall and Sam decided that she wanted to sit in the back of the double stroller. Which would be fine except 1) Charlie is too little for the front, especially considering by this point she was asleep, and 2) I had NO intentions of waking her. So that was a good 5 minute tantrum (#2), which I am convinced ended only because she got cold.

Once in the mall, Sam was good...lots to see, lots to take in. We don't venture out like that too often, and she was happy just checking everyone out. (Of course mom can't just wander around the mall without buying anything, I found little Pillow Pets, and just had to buy one of each. I am hoping one can replace my little pillow, or serve as an appropriate substitute.) So I decide to attempt the play area.

I guess everyone else in the free world had the same idea that I did, because there were a TON of kids there. Not so many that Sam was being knocked down, but enough for her to stand back and think, "Wait a minute, I'm not so sure about all this." Somewhere along the way, she picked up my purse (another one of her fetishes) and began her rummaging process. It took about 3 seconds for her to find "medicine"...aka gum. When I told her that under no circumstances (my exact words) could she gave any of that delicious gum (hey, it was Trident layers, have you had the strawberry one?) tantrum #3 started. The security guard actually asked me if she had gotten hurt, and was glad that I was just denying her the yummy "medicine". Good thing she wasn't hurt, as I was just watching her flail and scream instead of trying to comfort her.

After that one ended, we headed towards the exit. I thought maybe I'd swing into Children's Place just for the heck of it. She was so cute, I tried to get video of her "shopping", my purse slung over her shoulder, browsing through the racks of clothes at her level. I wonder if she was really looking, or going through the motions as she sees me do? And if she really was looking, what would she do if she saw something she liked? Would that be tantrum #4?

As it turned out, tantrum #4 started when she got into my purse again and wanted gum. Again I said no, and she really put her heart into this one. I was THAT MOM with THAT KID who was screaming and trying to throw herself out of my arms as I pushed the stroller with one hand and tried not to drop her with the other. I would've put her back in the stroller, but before I could get her strapped in, she slid right out and down onto the floor. I know the passer-bys were impressed with her speed. And luckily for me, Charlie slept though the whole thing.

Yes, I realize that the whole incident could have been avoided had I just taken the damn gum out of my purse. Or not let her have the purse (wait, no, that would have just started the tantrum sooner). I managed to get her to calm down by implementing a little dog whisperer trick...make her walk. Force her to walk, and focus on holding my hand, holding the purse, and keep up. We made it home with little to no more incidents, save for another, "Mom, Charlie fell!" This has GOT to get easier.

No...I'm Not Dead

2010-12-29T09:41:00.003-06:00

Over the past month, I've received texts, facebook posts, e-mails all asking the same thing...Are you dead? And the answer is no, I am not dead.

With everything that goes on during the month of December, I just don't have it in me to blog. Except last year, but that was an exception, and I was a total downer.

January is a tough month for blogging too, as it is year end at work and there is lots and lots to do.

So for now, I'll just fill you in on some random life tidbits from December...

Charlotte was 15.5 lbs and 25 inches long at her 4 month check up. This puts her in the 90th percentile for height and weight. She'll be bigger than Samantha pretty soon, who was 23lbs the same day. At 23 months.

Charlie is now a real kid...developing her own personality, smiling, giggling, and loving life. She is no longer a ball of mush...which is good considering her size. She loves to sit up and watch everyone, especially Sam and Fonz, but has very little to no interest in rolling over or becoming mobile. I am sure that I will regret wishing she could move, even if only a little bit.

Sam has become re-obsessed with everything baby. She puts her babies to sleep, feeds them, gives them pacifiers, wraps them in "towels", pushes them in her stroller and Charlie's new walker, and occasionally tosses them down the stairs.

Christmas was crazy busy around our house. We traveled a lot and saw everyone we wanted to see, and then some. Sam loves all of her toys, but especially her baby stroller, the little minivan (the doors only lasted about a half an hour) and the nursery center where can FEED and BATHE and CHANGE her babies. Oh yes...she also loves all of her babies. All 6 of them.

She has become quite the little girl too. Her personality has blossomed. She loves to dance and laugh, and she has a great sense of humor. She is somewhat of a free spirit, and I hope she stays that way. She doesn't care what anyone thinks, she just does her thing...whether it be dancing in a circle or playing on her piano.

I am already looking forward to next Christmas, the plans are set. I have already put reminders in Outlook to start shopping and start decorating and put up lights on the outside of our house. No rushing around next year!!

I am also SUPER excited about swim classes that the girls are signed up for. These are not typical swim classes, oh no. These are survival classes. At the end of 6 weeks, Charlie will know how to swim to the surface and roll over and float should she fall in the water. Sam will also know how to do that, plus swim to safety...taking breaks by floating if she gets tired. It is AMAZING and is called Infant Swimming Resource. I can't wait to show off their new skills once they graduate. I also hope it helps Sam get over getting her face wet. Washing her hair has become quite annoying, what with all the whining. We just can't convince her to LOOK UP!

Kabo is doing good...I remember about this time every year how much I dislike it when he has his full coat. The FUR!! The SHEDDING!! No amount of brushing gets rid of the fur you get in your eyes when you bury your head in his neck. He is loving the snow, but showing his age. In and out, in and out, in and out, in and out, in and out...50 times a day. Oy.

OK kids...I've got to get productive. Have a great New Year if I don't talk to ya'll!!!