I'm getting an early start this morning!
But before I begin wasting your time with what has become my virtual dumping ground for all things that should remain private to those who posses common sense, I just want to stop and say thank you for all of your very kind comments about my blog. I am in no way a writer! That was established in the 8th grade when I spent 5th period writing (using the term loosely here) for the school newspaper and was only ever trusted to be the editor of the "song dedication" section. Can you guess how hard it was to be in charge of the "song dedication" section? Well let's just say it's about as difficult as playing the outfield in T-Ball. (And I know this because I spent two years there making daisy chains unaware that pint-sizes game were even going on!) I mean, all that was required for my writing assignment was that I checked the song dedication box kept in the school library, screen submissions for profanity, and type them accurately before the deadline. And seeing as we only had 4 issues a year...well, you get the picture. In any case, you are all very sweet and I admire your dedication to procrastination by means of reading my blog as much as I detest my dedication to procrastination by means of writing my blog.
So..... It's almost Thanksgiving!! This is a special holiday for me in that I am not usually invited to participate in the food preparation for reasons that can be easily assumed if you've ever read the very literal title on the top of this page. It's like an entire day dedicated to giving me a break! And for that....I am thankful. I'm also thankful that it means my husband will be home for a long weekend! I bet you think it's because I love him and miss him and value our time together? Well I could say that, but then I would be giving into the very human instinct to disguise my real reasons with obligatory statements that might somehow make me feel like I am confirming to you that my marriage is still amazing! So I will instead just skip straight to honesty and tell you that before we start building holiday memories by holding hands around the Thanksgiving table, I need him to do some serious work around the house! Well that, and I love him, and miss him, and value our time together. (Can't fight instinct!)
More specifically, I need him to fix our kitchen window. Sometime during the monsoon in the last few days our window started leaking. Normally when these things happen I just ignore it like it's a "man problem" that doesn't concern me the same way he would ignore if I had autumn scented hand soap out during spring time. Men and women...different worlds, different priorities! But seeing as I thought that he had already attempted to fix the window (he hadn't) and it was still leaking I started to get a little more concerned than usual. I do want to clarify that Luke is incredibly handy! He works on our own cars, he can do minor remodels, and every picture frame in this house is hung to my exact standards. He's also crafty with ideas and solutions! This one time when I took him to meet some old college friends, he even successfully helped devise a system to inflate a kiddie pool with a leaf blower, duct tape, and a straw! (Side note - I probably shouldn't brag about any project that ends with your host saying, "I need to clean up this garage before my father-in-law sees how we did this.") In fact, because of Luke's proven skills, when things go wrong with his handy work, I get a little worried. I even had to corner him about fixing the window a full day before the long weekend started!
So last night, just barely out of his work clothes, he was outside in the downpour double checking the seals and waterproofing our window once again. I felt so bad as I stared at him from a very warm and very dry kitchen while he worked for nearly 45 minutes to remedy the leak. When he finally came in he told me that he was pretty sure he fixed it. I was trying to be supportive when I replied by telling him that I was sorry he had to be outside for so long! Then he says, "It wouldn't have taken that long except my first idea to use duct tape didn't work the way I had hoped!" Ummm.......what???????! Duct tape? That was his original solution? In all fairness when Luke gets home from work I thrust the entire weight of the household on him demanding that he watch the kids and give me a half hour to regain my sanity. And I have a hard time breaking this pattern even if Luke has additional responsibilities that require him to be outside in heavy rain, the man is a Saint...trust me! Anyway, our conversation when a little like this:
Me: Duct tape?
Him: Yeah....it was pretty smart, I built a ledge so the water would travel over the window.
Me: Duct tape?
Him: Jenny, it's not a big deal!
Me: Duct tape?
Him: Jenny! It was never intended to be a permanent solution.....unless it worked.
I'm kind of being an awful wife right now because I am writing about the 1% of the time where I really question his judgment while I never take the opportunity write about the 99% of the time he successfully fixes problems that are mostly created by me. Someday I'll give him a guest pass to take over my blog and he can tell you all of my shortfalls and begin to even the score out. I'm guessing he could start with the day that I closed the garage door on myself breaking the car antennae off while he very sweetly acted as though it could happen to anyone! That's actually the least of my offenses.....
Until that day, I hope you all have a wonderful wonderful Thanksgiving!
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
"Guess My Weight" and Other Bad Party Games...
Is it me, or is November flying by? I truly did not even realize that Thanksgiving was next week until I stopped by a harvest-decorated Safeway this morning for an energy drink, a bag of chips, and some turkey-jerky. Now I'm not denying that there may have been a time in my life that this could have been my breakfast of choice (dorm room memories come flashing back), but that was long ago when my metabolism was a little faster, my good-judgment was a little slower, and I could buy anything with a student-ID card at a campus store. 10 years later, my body doesn't forgive me in quite the same manner for eating meals made out of a hot-pot. So just in case you're curious, the chips are for a monthly dinner club where I am only ever trusted to bring the one appetizer I have managed to master (chicken dip with chips), and the turkey-jerky is for Emery's preschool Harvest Party where my tardiness in dropping him off left me the last option on the contribution sign-up list. Apparently you have to be early if you want to bring apple slices or crackers, who knew?
The energy drink actually was for me! I don't drink them very often, but in preparation for all the holiday-eating heading my way, I've amped up my workout program and needed a little artificial kick-start to get in gear. Of course, it's not hard to "amp up" your program when your normal routine consists of waiting for the perfect time of day to break out your Jillian Michael's DVD knowing full well that (between kids and cleaning) that time only comes at 10:30 pm which is also conveniently when I deserve to get some much needed rest. I mean....power walking to the mailbox would be "amping up" my workouts! Okay, it's not that bad, but really I do need to rearrange my priorities and get fitness back in front of fraternizing. And this week presented the rare chance to do just that! It was a perfect storm of motivation, opportunity and willpower!
Motivation: Truth be told, it isn't the holiday eating that brought me back to marathon elliptical sessions. It was something far worse! If you've been a reader of my blog for a while, you know I'm not particularly fond of personal trainers {read about it here}. So when my friend (name withheld) told me she was now dating a personal trainer (name also withheld), I should have been far more leery than I was! Instead I jumped at the chance to meet him over dinner where after two glasses of wine and 2 hours of asking for fitness & diet tips, he told me he can guess anyone's weight within 5 pounds. Sober Jenny would know that that statement has red flags all over it! Buzzed Jenny says, "No way! Guess me! Guess me!" So he guessed......14 pounds heavier than I really am! Keep in mind for someone 5 feet tall, 14 pounds can get into double digits for % of body weight. Translation: I can't blame it on a bulky shirt! A lesson for all of us: "Guess my weight" is NOT a good party game! Now I have 14 imaginary pounds to loose on top of all of the "real" weight and toning work that I was already dreading!
Opportunity: I'm probably one of the few people in the world that truly adores their in-laws! For real, I won the "in-law" lottery! So much in fact, that I was giddy at the prospect of moving mere blocks away from mine. There are some bonuses to this set up. Close babysitter? Check. Old fashioned home cooked meals? Check. Free basement gym loaded with toys and already baby proofed? Check! So while I was sad that they have been out of town for a couple of weeks, I jumped at the chance of claiming my rights to the most private athletic club in town where I can work out to my heart’s content while the kids watch Rio. Another lesson for all of us: 45 minutes on an elliptical is a long time. 45 minutes on an elliptical watching Rio (again) is a much muuuuuuuuch longer time.
Willpower: This is where the energy drink comes in! I don't have a lot of willpower that isn't spent on making sure my kids are safe and fed, my design work is done, and my house is clean. I'm not too proud to admit I need a little help sometimes. And in this case, my help comes in a 16 ounce double strength can. I completely forgot how much energy a RockStar can give you! The last time I drank these was in my early radio days (RIP KUFO) when they sponsored our station and we had cases and cases laying in the sales department to grab anytime we felt the urge. Truth be told, my manager actually excluded me from those allowed to drink them whenever they wanted. He (not so subtly) told me it was for the sanity of all of those in my department. I was only allowed, unfortunately, to take them home for consumption.
Regardless, I finally got my old stride back! I'm hoping it doesn't fail me anytime soon because the only back up plan I have is personal conviction and I try not to go there if I don't have to. But here is a wonderful quote that I plan on reading in case of a lack-of-motivation emergency:
The energy drink actually was for me! I don't drink them very often, but in preparation for all the holiday-eating heading my way, I've amped up my workout program and needed a little artificial kick-start to get in gear. Of course, it's not hard to "amp up" your program when your normal routine consists of waiting for the perfect time of day to break out your Jillian Michael's DVD knowing full well that (between kids and cleaning) that time only comes at 10:30 pm which is also conveniently when I deserve to get some much needed rest. I mean....power walking to the mailbox would be "amping up" my workouts! Okay, it's not that bad, but really I do need to rearrange my priorities and get fitness back in front of fraternizing. And this week presented the rare chance to do just that! It was a perfect storm of motivation, opportunity and willpower!
Motivation: Truth be told, it isn't the holiday eating that brought me back to marathon elliptical sessions. It was something far worse! If you've been a reader of my blog for a while, you know I'm not particularly fond of personal trainers {read about it here}. So when my friend (name withheld) told me she was now dating a personal trainer (name also withheld), I should have been far more leery than I was! Instead I jumped at the chance to meet him over dinner where after two glasses of wine and 2 hours of asking for fitness & diet tips, he told me he can guess anyone's weight within 5 pounds. Sober Jenny would know that that statement has red flags all over it! Buzzed Jenny says, "No way! Guess me! Guess me!" So he guessed......14 pounds heavier than I really am! Keep in mind for someone 5 feet tall, 14 pounds can get into double digits for % of body weight. Translation: I can't blame it on a bulky shirt! A lesson for all of us: "Guess my weight" is NOT a good party game! Now I have 14 imaginary pounds to loose on top of all of the "real" weight and toning work that I was already dreading!
Opportunity: I'm probably one of the few people in the world that truly adores their in-laws! For real, I won the "in-law" lottery! So much in fact, that I was giddy at the prospect of moving mere blocks away from mine. There are some bonuses to this set up. Close babysitter? Check. Old fashioned home cooked meals? Check. Free basement gym loaded with toys and already baby proofed? Check! So while I was sad that they have been out of town for a couple of weeks, I jumped at the chance of claiming my rights to the most private athletic club in town where I can work out to my heart’s content while the kids watch Rio. Another lesson for all of us: 45 minutes on an elliptical is a long time. 45 minutes on an elliptical watching Rio (again) is a much muuuuuuuuch longer time.
Willpower: This is where the energy drink comes in! I don't have a lot of willpower that isn't spent on making sure my kids are safe and fed, my design work is done, and my house is clean. I'm not too proud to admit I need a little help sometimes. And in this case, my help comes in a 16 ounce double strength can. I completely forgot how much energy a RockStar can give you! The last time I drank these was in my early radio days (RIP KUFO) when they sponsored our station and we had cases and cases laying in the sales department to grab anytime we felt the urge. Truth be told, my manager actually excluded me from those allowed to drink them whenever they wanted. He (not so subtly) told me it was for the sanity of all of those in my department. I was only allowed, unfortunately, to take them home for consumption.
Regardless, I finally got my old stride back! I'm hoping it doesn't fail me anytime soon because the only back up plan I have is personal conviction and I try not to go there if I don't have to. But here is a wonderful quote that I plan on reading in case of a lack-of-motivation emergency:
I am your constant companion. I am your greatest helper or your heaviest burden. I will push you onwards or drag you down to failure. I am completely at your command. Half the things you do, you might as well turn over to me and I'll do them quickly and correctly. I am easily managed but you must be firm with me. Show me exactly how you want something done and after a few lessons I'll do it automatically. I'm the servant of all great men and, alas, of all failures as well. Those who are great, I have made great. Those who are failures, I have made failures. You can run me for profit or run me for ruin; it makes no difference to me. Take me, train me, be firm with me and I will put the world at your feet. Be easy with me and I'll destroy you! Who am I?
I am HABIT...
Friday, November 4, 2011
I'm Going to Need More Ziplocs...
I have a riddle for you: What's three and a half feet tall and can mentally change seasons quicker than the aisles at Target can have a life-size Santa glowing alongside deeply discounted Halloween goods on November 1st? Yup.....it's Emery! And I'm assuming every other post-toddler on the planet? Or did I just unknowingly over emphasize seasonally driven consumerism in mine? I mean, this kid was asking about Christmas before he even had the goggles of his aviator costume off after a night spent collecting candy in the most labor intensive way possible; going door to door for one piece at a time. The same candy that is now safely stashed far above his line-of-sight where my husband and I can eat mini Kit-Kats to our heart's content (so long as we are willing to move some furniture to get at them.)
In any case, it's becoming a tradition in our house to spend November 1st gearing up for the,"What Christmas is really about" speech that needs to be prepped, revised, and solidified for that moment when Emery first lays eyes on the "Big Toy Book" that is bound to be in our mailbox daily from now until December 26th. Thank you Toys R' Us for that published bundle of joy! Emery takes better care of that catalog than he does his precious train collection. So as far as the hierarchy of his child-world goes, I'm guessing even Buzz Lightyear would be jealous of the instant rise to the #1 spot in his heart that this catalog commands. I would take it away from him, but this is America and that is his own little version of being sold a slice of hope. I think there might be a good lesson in watching him circle things that "Santa" intends to run out of before he ever lays foot in the Schultz household if he knows what's good for him. For instance, more than 4 batteries? Not getting it. 20+ pieces? Not getting it. Makes noise and doesn't have on "off" switch? Not getting it. Requires me to transform it? Definitely not getting it!
So naturally, you can imagine my surprise that while our house currently remains toy catalog free and a safe zone from the Christmas "I wants" for the time being, Emery still proudly announced the following statement yesterday:
"Mom.....I know the first thing I am going to ask Santa for this year!"
I was just waiting for him to drop the Lego bomb! I've been dreading that for so long because I am way too type A to comfortably make it through 4 years of collecting Legos. As it stands now, the 6 sets we already have are each separated in Ziploc bags, labeled, and stored with their appropriate instruction manual. I cannot sustain this system if we start collecting Star-Wars sets and I am required to know the difference between a Clone and a Droid. It's never going to happen! But what came out of his mouth was not "Legos" (crisis averted for now!) Instead it was.....
"I'm going to ask for a piccolo!"
Whaaaaaaaaaatttttttt????!!!!!? A piccolo? Like a mini-flute? That's it, Little Einsteins is now banned from my house! I'll buy every Star Wars Lego set known to man and invite Qui-Gon Jinn to dinner before I buy Emery a piccolo! For a moment I forgot he was 4 and wanted to shake him and say,
"Emery......5th grade band is not cool! I know you think it is because you get to miss half of geography and your friend "Amber" wants to play the flute next to you. But you haven't met the teacher! He's kind of weird, ranks you by making you sit in certain spots, checks to see if you practiced, and ultimately will ask you (after 4 months) if you can even read music or if you are just pretending? Then your parents will find out that you quit without telling them and will be livid because they spent all of this money on your piccolo and never even got to see you perform at an assembly! If you want to be in music, wait until high school where you can join choir, follow the kid next to you, take extra field trips during the year, and get an A for doing it! Work smarter, not harder kid."
Of course, none of that comes from personal experience....
In any case, I kind of feel like the season has officially begun! I obviously need to dust off my, "Jesus is the reason for the Season" speech and try and squeeze in Thanksgiving, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that this is easily my favorite time of the year!
Have a great weekend!!
In any case, it's becoming a tradition in our house to spend November 1st gearing up for the,"What Christmas is really about" speech that needs to be prepped, revised, and solidified for that moment when Emery first lays eyes on the "Big Toy Book" that is bound to be in our mailbox daily from now until December 26th. Thank you Toys R' Us for that published bundle of joy! Emery takes better care of that catalog than he does his precious train collection. So as far as the hierarchy of his child-world goes, I'm guessing even Buzz Lightyear would be jealous of the instant rise to the #1 spot in his heart that this catalog commands. I would take it away from him, but this is America and that is his own little version of being sold a slice of hope. I think there might be a good lesson in watching him circle things that "Santa" intends to run out of before he ever lays foot in the Schultz household if he knows what's good for him. For instance, more than 4 batteries? Not getting it. 20+ pieces? Not getting it. Makes noise and doesn't have on "off" switch? Not getting it. Requires me to transform it? Definitely not getting it!
So naturally, you can imagine my surprise that while our house currently remains toy catalog free and a safe zone from the Christmas "I wants" for the time being, Emery still proudly announced the following statement yesterday:
"Mom.....I know the first thing I am going to ask Santa for this year!"
I was just waiting for him to drop the Lego bomb! I've been dreading that for so long because I am way too type A to comfortably make it through 4 years of collecting Legos. As it stands now, the 6 sets we already have are each separated in Ziploc bags, labeled, and stored with their appropriate instruction manual. I cannot sustain this system if we start collecting Star-Wars sets and I am required to know the difference between a Clone and a Droid. It's never going to happen! But what came out of his mouth was not "Legos" (crisis averted for now!) Instead it was.....
"I'm going to ask for a piccolo!"
Whaaaaaaaaaatttttttt????!!!!!? A piccolo? Like a mini-flute? That's it, Little Einsteins is now banned from my house! I'll buy every Star Wars Lego set known to man and invite Qui-Gon Jinn to dinner before I buy Emery a piccolo! For a moment I forgot he was 4 and wanted to shake him and say,
"Emery......5th grade band is not cool! I know you think it is because you get to miss half of geography and your friend "Amber" wants to play the flute next to you. But you haven't met the teacher! He's kind of weird, ranks you by making you sit in certain spots, checks to see if you practiced, and ultimately will ask you (after 4 months) if you can even read music or if you are just pretending? Then your parents will find out that you quit without telling them and will be livid because they spent all of this money on your piccolo and never even got to see you perform at an assembly! If you want to be in music, wait until high school where you can join choir, follow the kid next to you, take extra field trips during the year, and get an A for doing it! Work smarter, not harder kid."
Of course, none of that comes from personal experience....
In any case, I kind of feel like the season has officially begun! I obviously need to dust off my, "Jesus is the reason for the Season" speech and try and squeeze in Thanksgiving, but I'd be lying if I didn't say that this is easily my favorite time of the year!
Have a great weekend!!
 |
| This is the only picture I have them from Halloween Night. He's not looking and she's cramming a hot dog in her face. It's a framer! |
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Vente Triple Shot, Two Pump Sugar Free Vanilla, Nonfat Nonsense...
I think today is one of those days where my brain won't wake up. Even coffee didn't help! For those of you who are close to me, I bet you were thrown off by that because everyone knows I don't drink coffee!! For real, I don't. It hasn't been the easiest thing in the world to resist a habit that brands you a true North-Westerner (along with an active REI membership and "Coexist" bumper sticker on your hybrid coupe) but I have staved it off for years nonetheless. From a 3 year stint as a Barista in college to enduring countless business meetings in Starbucks, I have never given in to this $5/day drug!
You hard-core coffee drinkers are an interesting bunch...flashing your "Gold Cards" (and free flavored syrup privileges) almost as though God himself should have sanctioned you to be a part of the interview process for anyone who dares to stand at the helm of your favorite monster espresso machine. You bicker back and forth about whether Starbucks has gone too corporate or if it's better to be in the Dutch Mafia, and you turn giddy when you get a free birthday drink like you just found $10 in the dryer. You abbreviate the words "whipped cream" to "whip" (this bothers me so much for no particular reason...you're really not saving that much time.) You speak a nonsense language that would go so far over my head if I hadn't paid off part of my education by enduring collegiate late-night studiers screaming orders at me like their final grade depended on my propensity to get exactly 2 pumps of vanilla in their 110 degree latte. And worst of all, you coffee lovers push your drug on people like myself swearing up and down that the next Pumpkin Latte I try is going to BLOW MY MIND like the 5 I've had before (once a year for the last 5 years) never did.
But no one has ever gotten to me. My kitchen counter has remained Keurig free and I've never once waited in line to redeem a Starbucks Treat Receipt. So getting off my high horse.....and onto a confession, I should be honest and sat I actually have a faaaaaaaar worse habit. It's a little something called "Diet Coke." I LOVE Diet Coke! I love it in the morning, I love it in the evening, I love it in a can, I love it in a bottle, I love it in mixed drinks, I love it!!! If I could pre-write my obituary, I'm sure it would say: Jenny died happily of aspartame poisoning. For those of you worried about my health, I drink a lot of water to compensate and do limit myself to a certain amount a day. But I just can't shake the silver can habit no matter how many times someone tells me that my drink of choice can literally take the rust of a nail or shine up an old penny. I just shut my ears and scream "lalalalalalalalalalala!" So, continuing in the spirit of honesty, my husband and I (who has the same horrible habit) have been trying to quit drinking soda for the last 5 years at least once every 3 months. He usually leads the charge, I always cheat, and we never succeed.
But three weeks ago, for whatever reason, Luke decided to buckle down and get serious about changing his ways. I didn't notice at first. But after a few days of some incredibly chipper morning check-in calls, I couldn't figure out why Luke was SO happy. I mean....did he get his hands on some uppers? He works at an accounting firm so unless it's "wear a Hawaiian shirt day" I couldn't imagine that anything spectacular was happening at the office. (No offense accountants....it takes all types to make the world go round!) Then he came clean. "Jenny, I switched to coffee and it's AWESOME. It tastes like crap (direct quote) but it's AWESOME." So being the ever supportive wife that I am, after he proved his dedication to living Coke-free for two whole weeks, I bought our home it's very first coffee maker. (I'll get him the Keurig if he makes it a year). So anyway, he's been using it....and I've been staring at it wondering if it really is the key to getting off the brown syrup?
I hadn't really been motivated to try it until today though and it's only because I had one of those nights. The kind where you wake up to a 3 foot shadow by your bed whispering, "I have to go potty!" Being the great mom I am I said half-awake, "So go."
Emery: I already did.
Me: So go back to bed.
Emery: I want to sleep with you.
Me: No, go back to bed.
Emery: I need to change my pants, they're kind of wet.
Me: Did you pee them?
Emery: No! ..................................a little.
Me: Okay, I'll get you some new pajamas.
Emery (After changing): Will you lay with me?
Me: (half asleep) For a few seconds.
So if you're a parent you know how this ends. I spent all night in bed with my toddler who was clinging onto me like a baby monkey in a grip Houdini himself couldn't escape, on a horribly uncomfortable mattress with cheap pillows, with only a Cars blanket to keep me warm, while the worlds brightest night light rotated ocean fish around the room and left me with what can only be described as the worst night of sleep the universe has ever offered. If ever there were a time to try that coffee maker....it was this morning!!
So I did! My final verdict is that I am not sure that coffee is great. But my mug of creamer and sugar was fantastic! I think some caffeine snuck in there though, because my heart is pounding and I'm not even sure this blog makes sense?! Forgive me for the time you wasted reading it!
You hard-core coffee drinkers are an interesting bunch...flashing your "Gold Cards" (and free flavored syrup privileges) almost as though God himself should have sanctioned you to be a part of the interview process for anyone who dares to stand at the helm of your favorite monster espresso machine. You bicker back and forth about whether Starbucks has gone too corporate or if it's better to be in the Dutch Mafia, and you turn giddy when you get a free birthday drink like you just found $10 in the dryer. You abbreviate the words "whipped cream" to "whip" (this bothers me so much for no particular reason...you're really not saving that much time.) You speak a nonsense language that would go so far over my head if I hadn't paid off part of my education by enduring collegiate late-night studiers screaming orders at me like their final grade depended on my propensity to get exactly 2 pumps of vanilla in their 110 degree latte. And worst of all, you coffee lovers push your drug on people like myself swearing up and down that the next Pumpkin Latte I try is going to BLOW MY MIND like the 5 I've had before (once a year for the last 5 years) never did.
But no one has ever gotten to me. My kitchen counter has remained Keurig free and I've never once waited in line to redeem a Starbucks Treat Receipt. So getting off my high horse.....and onto a confession, I should be honest and sat I actually have a faaaaaaaar worse habit. It's a little something called "Diet Coke." I LOVE Diet Coke! I love it in the morning, I love it in the evening, I love it in a can, I love it in a bottle, I love it in mixed drinks, I love it!!! If I could pre-write my obituary, I'm sure it would say: Jenny died happily of aspartame poisoning. For those of you worried about my health, I drink a lot of water to compensate and do limit myself to a certain amount a day. But I just can't shake the silver can habit no matter how many times someone tells me that my drink of choice can literally take the rust of a nail or shine up an old penny. I just shut my ears and scream "lalalalalalalalalalala!" So, continuing in the spirit of honesty, my husband and I (who has the same horrible habit) have been trying to quit drinking soda for the last 5 years at least once every 3 months. He usually leads the charge, I always cheat, and we never succeed.
But three weeks ago, for whatever reason, Luke decided to buckle down and get serious about changing his ways. I didn't notice at first. But after a few days of some incredibly chipper morning check-in calls, I couldn't figure out why Luke was SO happy. I mean....did he get his hands on some uppers? He works at an accounting firm so unless it's "wear a Hawaiian shirt day" I couldn't imagine that anything spectacular was happening at the office. (No offense accountants....it takes all types to make the world go round!) Then he came clean. "Jenny, I switched to coffee and it's AWESOME. It tastes like crap (direct quote) but it's AWESOME." So being the ever supportive wife that I am, after he proved his dedication to living Coke-free for two whole weeks, I bought our home it's very first coffee maker. (I'll get him the Keurig if he makes it a year). So anyway, he's been using it....and I've been staring at it wondering if it really is the key to getting off the brown syrup?
I hadn't really been motivated to try it until today though and it's only because I had one of those nights. The kind where you wake up to a 3 foot shadow by your bed whispering, "I have to go potty!" Being the great mom I am I said half-awake, "So go."
Emery: I already did.
Me: So go back to bed.
Emery: I want to sleep with you.
Me: No, go back to bed.
Emery: I need to change my pants, they're kind of wet.
Me: Did you pee them?
Emery: No! ..................................a little.
Me: Okay, I'll get you some new pajamas.
Emery (After changing): Will you lay with me?
Me: (half asleep) For a few seconds.
So if you're a parent you know how this ends. I spent all night in bed with my toddler who was clinging onto me like a baby monkey in a grip Houdini himself couldn't escape, on a horribly uncomfortable mattress with cheap pillows, with only a Cars blanket to keep me warm, while the worlds brightest night light rotated ocean fish around the room and left me with what can only be described as the worst night of sleep the universe has ever offered. If ever there were a time to try that coffee maker....it was this morning!!
So I did! My final verdict is that I am not sure that coffee is great. But my mug of creamer and sugar was fantastic! I think some caffeine snuck in there though, because my heart is pounding and I'm not even sure this blog makes sense?! Forgive me for the time you wasted reading it!
Happy Thursday
Monday, October 3, 2011
Powder Blue, Brass & Glass
I love the Home Depot for 2 very specific reasons:
1. They have those genius carts that look like a car with the double steering wheels that my kids adore! This means I can shop with my children buckled in, and entertained, and not touching things, or asking questions, or begging for candy, or touching each other. If ever a Peace-Prize could be awarded to an inanimate object, I think this would be our clear winner. (Are you taking notes Trader Joes? Love your store....but your cart situation needs some attention!)
2. It a store of possibility! It's a place where you can spend hours discussing what your brand new Kelly Ripa inspired kitchen is going to look like when you finally have the time and the money (30 years from now) even when you're just stopping in for some potting soil. At the Home depot I can imagine all my door knobs matching, that brass and glass foyer light I've always hated gone, and the Bold Look of Kohler. It's candy for a grown-ups soul, really it is.
So unless you have a really bad understanding of the concept of foreshadowing, I bet you can guess that I went to Home Depot this weekend? Specifically, I went for paint which in itself is a huge deal because as much as I want to shine our little house up, I am just DONE painting. It's not that our current house doesn't a need a color re-do (what were the previous owners thinking? Was powder blue on clearance?) It's more that our first home before this was one that required "possibility and potential goggles" while signing the closing papers. We spent the first 3 years of our marriage painting every wall in every room including the exterior until I didn't even need to read the sharpie names on the orange aprons at the paint counter anymore. They knew us, and we knew them. And naturally, as you can imagine, once all of my door knobs matched in that house and the last wall was painted.....we decided to move.
So anyway my extreme disdain for powder blue restrooms has been silenced my extreme fatigue of painting and I haven't been to that section of Home Depot for a while. But then this weekend, my husband made one small fatal error. He decided to deep clean around a faucet. And being the extra prudent fellow that he is, he pulled the faucet off to do it....and I caught him.
Me: "Hey, since you have that off, I want to run to Home Depot and pick out a new one!" (The old faucet was obviously picked out by the lovers of powder-blue. I wish I could find them to give it back! I have no doubt they are eating Pop Rocks while listening to Sinead O'Connor right about now...)
Luke: Well can you get a new towel holder too? I don't like this one and since we're changing things....
Me: Well if you're going to pull the towel holder off, we should paint too!
And so on and so forth.....
Remember when I said my husband made one fatal mistake this last weekend? Make that 2. The second, of course, being that he sent me to Home Depot by myself thinking I wouldn't meander down a few extra aisles when I was done selecting paint. Speaking of paint, I love that there is a huge sign on the counter that says, "Men selecting paint colors will need written permission from their wives." I wish I had thought of that! But I did think of another sign for them. It goes like this:
And so on and so forth.....
Remember when I said my husband made one fatal mistake this last weekend? Make that 2. The second, of course, being that he sent me to Home Depot by myself thinking I wouldn't meander down a few extra aisles when I was done selecting paint. Speaking of paint, I love that there is a huge sign on the counter that says, "Men selecting paint colors will need written permission from their wives." I wish I had thought of that! But I did think of another sign for them. It goes like this:
"Men sending their wives to Home Depot alone for paint shall not hold us liable when she returns with new chandeliers as well"
Too specific? Not in our case! So Luke spent the rest of night plumbing, painting, and hanging lights and I spent the rest of the night at happy hour with my dearest friends. And they say marriage gets hard after 7 years? Nah! I say it runs more like a well-oiled machine where my husband understands that his best chance of peace is to send me out and shut himself in a closed bathroom. He's not a pushover, he's a genius. And that's why I love him!
Have a great week friends!
PS....Anyone want a heinous light fixture? Or should I save it for our community garage sale where inexplicably people will buy anything as long as you act like you're not ready to let it go?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Crayola Markers in Preschool.....Crayola Markers in College.
So yesterday was Emery's 4th day of preschool which loosely translates into my 4th day of freedom! Although it's funny how my definition of "freedom" has changed over the years. At age 8 it meant I could ride my bike to 7-11 for a Slurpee. At age 13 it meant that I could stray from my mom for an hour at the mall and shop for a new Esprit bag without someone asking, "Why is that bag $20 cooler than this one?" At age 21 it meant that I could stop toting around Crayola markers in an attempt to mimic bar stamps so that I could enjoy my God-given right to sing a little Karaoke! (Side note: Don't judge! I lived in a university town, was the youngest of my friends, and it was a time honored tradition that had been passed down by those who shared the same 20-something brain-lapse that I fear for my own children! Did I mention Luelle isn't going to college away from home? Ever.) Regardless, at age 32 "freedom" means I can tote a 19 month old around for 3 hours while running errands at sonic speed, all the while thinking, "How did I not realize how easy life was when I only had one!?" (I'm sure those of you with 3+ are laughing at me right about now....)
So back to yesterday, I somehow got it in my mind that with my 3 precious hours I was going to go to Winco and do some grocery shopping. Now I'm not much of a Winco shopper. It's not that I don't appreciate a good reduced-price can of Ranch-Style beans, it's more that it's just way too far away and I can't take the intense pressure of speed bagging groceries while the checker holds up the next order snickering at my inability to keep up the pace. Seriously, I loathe bagging my own groceries there; it speeds up my heart rate. The plastic bags never come apart easily and the paper bags only hold a few things each unless you happen to have a level of puzzle solving skills that warrants your acceptance onto CBS's Survivor. So while I completely understand people's love of Winco's low price selections, I have to say I would rather save money by stretching out my (denied) hair coloring treatments than shop there on a regular basis. To each his own, right?
For as empty as that store was it still took me forever to get out of there. It reaffirmed my belief that it may just not be the store for me. I have a low patience level, short time frame, and the money saved by shopping there is eaten by commute when gas is $4 a gallon! In fact, I was so tired when I was done that instead of making a special trip to get a fall scented candle (one of my yearly traditions when the weather changes) I just bought one from the dog food aisle. I did smile that it was only $7 instead the $25 Yankee candles that I desperately try to justify to myself every year. I don't care who you are or how much money you have, there had better be gold flakes in $25 candles! And they better be made in a world of rainbows by magical unicorns where kittens cry when less superior candles are burnt! Thank the good Lord above for Bed, Bath, and Beyond 20% off coupons, because I don't feel the same way about $19.99 candles...
Hope you all had a great week!
So back to yesterday, I somehow got it in my mind that with my 3 precious hours I was going to go to Winco and do some grocery shopping. Now I'm not much of a Winco shopper. It's not that I don't appreciate a good reduced-price can of Ranch-Style beans, it's more that it's just way too far away and I can't take the intense pressure of speed bagging groceries while the checker holds up the next order snickering at my inability to keep up the pace. Seriously, I loathe bagging my own groceries there; it speeds up my heart rate. The plastic bags never come apart easily and the paper bags only hold a few things each unless you happen to have a level of puzzle solving skills that warrants your acceptance onto CBS's Survivor. So while I completely understand people's love of Winco's low price selections, I have to say I would rather save money by stretching out my (denied) hair coloring treatments than shop there on a regular basis. To each his own, right?
But yesterday I needed to restock on things like salad dressing and canned basics and I simply cannot deny that Winco's prices are significantly better on mega-trips than my little town's Safeway where if you shop wrong, ketchup is going to cost you a good portion of your child's college savings. So I braved the crowds and stuck little LuLu in the cart determined not to get caught in the aisle gridlock that my husband (not so) affectionately refers to as the "Winco Shuffle" ("Which way you going? Whatcha trying to get at? Am I in your way? Can you hand me that?") I believe with my whole heart that at the end of any Winco trip I have, by nature, bonded with my fellow shoppers more than I could have ever bonded with the girls who taught me the marker bar-stamp trick! So it's only natural to size these people up as soon as I enter those double doors. I mean, we're going to spend the next hour together analyzing each other carts, talking about whether Santias chips are better than Juanita's, you get it.
But do you know what I discovered? Winco in practically empty at 8:00 in the morning! For the most part I didn't even have to engage in conversation! I did happen upon another shopper by the cilantro but I didn't talk to her because she was too busy touching every single bunch of it and selectivity smelling some for freshness. Are you supposed to smell cilantro? I've never done that. It was kind of gross and made me rethink my desire to make pico de gallo in the first place. That's probably something that needed to be rethought anyway because I've never actually made it and I could just stop by Baja Fresh instead and eat mini-cup after mini-cup from the salsa bar to my heart's content for the price of a side of chips! This leads way to my PSA for this week: always remember to wash your produce people!For as empty as that store was it still took me forever to get out of there. It reaffirmed my belief that it may just not be the store for me. I have a low patience level, short time frame, and the money saved by shopping there is eaten by commute when gas is $4 a gallon! In fact, I was so tired when I was done that instead of making a special trip to get a fall scented candle (one of my yearly traditions when the weather changes) I just bought one from the dog food aisle. I did smile that it was only $7 instead the $25 Yankee candles that I desperately try to justify to myself every year. I don't care who you are or how much money you have, there had better be gold flakes in $25 candles! And they better be made in a world of rainbows by magical unicorns where kittens cry when less superior candles are burnt! Thank the good Lord above for Bed, Bath, and Beyond 20% off coupons, because I don't feel the same way about $19.99 candles...
Hope you all had a great week!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
And So It Begins...
Okay, I've been taking an extended hiatus from my blog...I know. Somehow I decided that I deserved a "Summer Vacation" from self promoting and decided that I would come back to my little project in the fall. (Side note: did you know you shouldn't capitalize seasons? I had to Google that.) If you're like me, fall is a second chance at conquering your New Year's resolutions. It's a time to give it your all (for a week) again! So I'm going to see if I can start squeezing in a few blogs while Emery is hard at work conquering his grueling 3 hour schedule at a place where a good day means you didn't need your "emergency clothing" conveniently kept near the pint-sized restrooms.
Ahhhh......preschool. You've been a long time coming, my friend! Maybe not every parent anxiously awaited for the momentousness "first day" to arrive with the same anticipation as myself. But I bet those are the same parents that have a well-used craft bin at home with pipe cleaners, glue sticks, and other little dollar store finds that can be made into toddler projects whenever inspiration strikes (yep...I'm talking to you Pamela Susan!) Notice I said a well-used bin. Don't get me wrong, I have all of those things. I'm not sure where they are and they definitely aren't opened, but I have them. In any case, as a work-at-home mom with two toddler schedules to juggle, I have to be honest and say I'm not breaking out the glue gun that often. But I digress....
What I was trying to get at is that although I'm not winning any awards for a strongly structured home pre-preschool curriculum, I've always known that when the day arrived for Emery to start school, I wanted to be one of the parents who make it a priority to be involved. This was heavily foreshadowed by my own childhood tendencies where I did things like begging to stay after recess to help the aides pick up balls so my "go home slip" would have a gold star instead of just a check. And that was only first grade! Fast forward to afternoons where I was up to my elbows in tempera* paint making student council posters and it's not shocking that my kids might develop a strategy to hide parent volunteer forms from me. Speaking of tempera paint, I bought some for Emery's classroom (even though it was the optional supplies list) just because the smell brought back fond elementary school memories the same way the sight of Elmer's Glue still makes me think of that kid (name withheld) who used to spread it on his hand until it dried and peel it off like it was dead skin. I bet if he has his own kids, he taught them this nifty little trick in an effort to pass the legacy on! I base that assumption on the fact that even though my over-involvement is embarrassing to admit, I can't shake it from my DNA 15 years later!
As you can imagine, when I got an email saying the very first PTO meeting was taking place in the church basement I cleared my schedule to make an appearance. But seeing as the preschool is connected to a private school with children who've been attending for up to 7 years, I knew I would be low man on the totem pole and tricked my husband into coming with me. "It's a parent's meeting Luke, everyone will be there!" Ha! Everyone was not there. Am I the only one who got the letter? Or the only one that cared? In all fairness they only gave us 2 days warning so I'm imagining very few people had the same flexibility to attend. But regardless I had just walked into a private meeting with the principle, two other moms, and the office administrator. So I sat there and very awkwardly kept my mouth shut in a meeting where the seasoned pros went back and forth with inside jokes that I'm assuming might be funny to me if I had a 5th grader who took art literacy last year. It was a very narrow audience they were appealing to if you catch my drift. They were very nice women, but I couldn't have jumped in there with an ice breaker if I tried! We did finally have a chance to contribute to the meeting though. When conversation worked its way to volunteerism, it was suggested that parents could offer their natural skill to help out.
PTO Mom: "So if someone likes to cold call, they can volunteer to cold call for us!"
Luke: "Yeah....good luck finding a cold caller. Solid idea"
Needless to say that if we weren't on the radar two weeks ago, we are now.
(*Edited because tempura is a batter and tempera is a paint! You failed me spellcheck!)
Ahhhh......preschool. You've been a long time coming, my friend! Maybe not every parent anxiously awaited for the momentousness "first day" to arrive with the same anticipation as myself. But I bet those are the same parents that have a well-used craft bin at home with pipe cleaners, glue sticks, and other little dollar store finds that can be made into toddler projects whenever inspiration strikes (yep...I'm talking to you Pamela Susan!) Notice I said a well-used bin. Don't get me wrong, I have all of those things. I'm not sure where they are and they definitely aren't opened, but I have them. In any case, as a work-at-home mom with two toddler schedules to juggle, I have to be honest and say I'm not breaking out the glue gun that often. But I digress....
What I was trying to get at is that although I'm not winning any awards for a strongly structured home pre-preschool curriculum, I've always known that when the day arrived for Emery to start school, I wanted to be one of the parents who make it a priority to be involved. This was heavily foreshadowed by my own childhood tendencies where I did things like begging to stay after recess to help the aides pick up balls so my "go home slip" would have a gold star instead of just a check. And that was only first grade! Fast forward to afternoons where I was up to my elbows in tempera* paint making student council posters and it's not shocking that my kids might develop a strategy to hide parent volunteer forms from me. Speaking of tempera paint, I bought some for Emery's classroom (even though it was the optional supplies list) just because the smell brought back fond elementary school memories the same way the sight of Elmer's Glue still makes me think of that kid (name withheld) who used to spread it on his hand until it dried and peel it off like it was dead skin. I bet if he has his own kids, he taught them this nifty little trick in an effort to pass the legacy on! I base that assumption on the fact that even though my over-involvement is embarrassing to admit, I can't shake it from my DNA 15 years later!
As you can imagine, when I got an email saying the very first PTO meeting was taking place in the church basement I cleared my schedule to make an appearance. But seeing as the preschool is connected to a private school with children who've been attending for up to 7 years, I knew I would be low man on the totem pole and tricked my husband into coming with me. "It's a parent's meeting Luke, everyone will be there!" Ha! Everyone was not there. Am I the only one who got the letter? Or the only one that cared? In all fairness they only gave us 2 days warning so I'm imagining very few people had the same flexibility to attend. But regardless I had just walked into a private meeting with the principle, two other moms, and the office administrator. So I sat there and very awkwardly kept my mouth shut in a meeting where the seasoned pros went back and forth with inside jokes that I'm assuming might be funny to me if I had a 5th grader who took art literacy last year. It was a very narrow audience they were appealing to if you catch my drift. They were very nice women, but I couldn't have jumped in there with an ice breaker if I tried! We did finally have a chance to contribute to the meeting though. When conversation worked its way to volunteerism, it was suggested that parents could offer their natural skill to help out.
PTO Mom: "So if someone likes to cold call, they can volunteer to cold call for us!"
Luke: "Yeah....good luck finding a cold caller. Solid idea"
Needless to say that if we weren't on the radar two weeks ago, we are now.
(*Edited because tempura is a batter and tempera is a paint! You failed me spellcheck!)
Here are some pictures of Emery on his first day. Joking aside, We really do love his new school and everyone there has been amazing!
 |
| He kept doing this! |
 |
| So proud of his "big boy" backpack! |
 |
| "Leave already mom!" |
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Death Road
How was your Memorial Weekend?!
I wish I were going to follow up that question with a drawn out recap of how amazing my Memorial Weekend was, but there are a few things in the way of that happening:
1. I live in Oregon so Memorial Day weekend is generally an indoor activity.
2. I have kids.
Okay, okay! I realize that I am blessed to have kids and in theory that increases the importance of family time during these rare three day weekends. In theory, however, family time doesn't include chasing a 15 month old in non "baby-proofed" environments thus eliminating any chance of actually having a conversation with another human being that doesn't involve the phrases, "No No!" and "Icky Icky!" So instead of hopping in our car (after taking out a second mortgage to fill er' up) and creating memories at the beach or on a camping trip like the rest of America, we chose to spend most of the weekend in the good old Schultz house. It's so relaxing to be in our own little bubble where every light socket is plugged and you can't go into a room without disarming a baby gate that rivals MIT in the level of intelligence required to be granted entrance. (Sidenote: Do they use these baby gates in wartime strategies? They should! A retina scan security point would be easier to fake your way through than trying to figure out where to press one of those gates to unlock it!)
Anyway, because I was home (and my husband was here to help with the bath times and potty emergencies) I kind of went into this trance of laziness that my parental responsibilities wouldn't normally allow for. This would be better explained if I just came clean and told you that I watched 6 hours of Netflix and made a frozen pizza for lunch. I bet you're wondering what I could possibly watch for 6 hours? You probably think it was Lifetime movies or The Real Housewives of Bankruptcy? Nope....not even close! It was Ice Road Truckers. More Specifically....."Ice Road Truckers - World's Deadliest Roads." You see, besides "jean hoarding", another secret of mine is obsessive internet research. For example, that is how I became "crazy tsunami lady" and scared myself into taking my kids to wave pools for all of life instead of the Oregon Coast. All it took was 12 hours of scientific article reading, youtube vidoes, and wikipedia. It was cheaper than another college degree and I probably retained 3 times as much information because I wasn't preoccupied with what I was planning on wearing to "Taco Tuesday" that night.
But waaaaaaaaay before tsunamis, I went through a phase where I couldn't learn enough about the deadliest roads in the world. I have no idea why this fascinates me considering the fact that if there is so much as "chain advisory" while going over the Government Camp Pass, I want to turn back and enjoy a nice afternoon in Sandy where we can admire Mt. Hood from afar. Regardless, the one road I was particularly amazed by is this road in Bolivia nicknamed, "The Death Road." Have any of you heard of this road? It's like a one lane gravel road with an unsecured cliff on one side and oh......just a mere 3000-6000 foot drop off on the other side with no guard rail. Can you even imagine?!?! And people drive down that thing every day! It's insane. ABSOLUTELY INSANE!! So I was beyond captivated watching 6 hours of North American truckers driving on very similar roads in the Indian Himalayas in trucks that look like they were made out of toothpicks. At least Indians have a sense of style and decorate their toothpick trucks with a whole bunch of metallic streamers that look like they belong adorning the handles of banana seat bikes. Hey, If you're going die, I say why not do it flamboyantly!? We could all learn something from their stylistic optimism!
I, for one, felt guilty wasting so much time on a wonder of the world that I have NO intention of ever visiting. But I think God was giving me a pass on my laziness this time because as luck would have it, Luke had some relatives in town this weekend that he hadn't seen forever. And wouldn't you know it, they lived in Bolivia of all places! So before I could finish introducing myself as Luke's wife I was screaming over a crowd of in-laws, "Hey...have you ever been on the Death Road?" And not only had they been on it, it was their road to work! I could have listened attentively to hours of stories about this subject. If Terry (our esteemed Death Road driver) had ever wanted a captive audience - he had one now. I was both sad and relieved that he said the danger is kind of sensationalized for television documentaries. But I bet he is just conditioned to say that so his wife didn't spend her every waking hour in prayer for his safety!
I'm not sure where I'm going with this. But if you're bored....it's a topic you can google or something.
Hope you had a great weekend!
I wish I were going to follow up that question with a drawn out recap of how amazing my Memorial Weekend was, but there are a few things in the way of that happening:
1. I live in Oregon so Memorial Day weekend is generally an indoor activity.
2. I have kids.
Okay, okay! I realize that I am blessed to have kids and in theory that increases the importance of family time during these rare three day weekends. In theory, however, family time doesn't include chasing a 15 month old in non "baby-proofed" environments thus eliminating any chance of actually having a conversation with another human being that doesn't involve the phrases, "No No!" and "Icky Icky!" So instead of hopping in our car (after taking out a second mortgage to fill er' up) and creating memories at the beach or on a camping trip like the rest of America, we chose to spend most of the weekend in the good old Schultz house. It's so relaxing to be in our own little bubble where every light socket is plugged and you can't go into a room without disarming a baby gate that rivals MIT in the level of intelligence required to be granted entrance. (Sidenote: Do they use these baby gates in wartime strategies? They should! A retina scan security point would be easier to fake your way through than trying to figure out where to press one of those gates to unlock it!)
Anyway, because I was home (and my husband was here to help with the bath times and potty emergencies) I kind of went into this trance of laziness that my parental responsibilities wouldn't normally allow for. This would be better explained if I just came clean and told you that I watched 6 hours of Netflix and made a frozen pizza for lunch. I bet you're wondering what I could possibly watch for 6 hours? You probably think it was Lifetime movies or The Real Housewives of Bankruptcy? Nope....not even close! It was Ice Road Truckers. More Specifically....."Ice Road Truckers - World's Deadliest Roads." You see, besides "jean hoarding", another secret of mine is obsessive internet research. For example, that is how I became "crazy tsunami lady" and scared myself into taking my kids to wave pools for all of life instead of the Oregon Coast. All it took was 12 hours of scientific article reading, youtube vidoes, and wikipedia. It was cheaper than another college degree and I probably retained 3 times as much information because I wasn't preoccupied with what I was planning on wearing to "Taco Tuesday" that night.
But waaaaaaaaay before tsunamis, I went through a phase where I couldn't learn enough about the deadliest roads in the world. I have no idea why this fascinates me considering the fact that if there is so much as "chain advisory" while going over the Government Camp Pass, I want to turn back and enjoy a nice afternoon in Sandy where we can admire Mt. Hood from afar. Regardless, the one road I was particularly amazed by is this road in Bolivia nicknamed, "The Death Road." Have any of you heard of this road? It's like a one lane gravel road with an unsecured cliff on one side and oh......just a mere 3000-6000 foot drop off on the other side with no guard rail. Can you even imagine?!?! And people drive down that thing every day! It's insane. ABSOLUTELY INSANE!! So I was beyond captivated watching 6 hours of North American truckers driving on very similar roads in the Indian Himalayas in trucks that look like they were made out of toothpicks. At least Indians have a sense of style and decorate their toothpick trucks with a whole bunch of metallic streamers that look like they belong adorning the handles of banana seat bikes. Hey, If you're going die, I say why not do it flamboyantly!? We could all learn something from their stylistic optimism!
I, for one, felt guilty wasting so much time on a wonder of the world that I have NO intention of ever visiting. But I think God was giving me a pass on my laziness this time because as luck would have it, Luke had some relatives in town this weekend that he hadn't seen forever. And wouldn't you know it, they lived in Bolivia of all places! So before I could finish introducing myself as Luke's wife I was screaming over a crowd of in-laws, "Hey...have you ever been on the Death Road?" And not only had they been on it, it was their road to work! I could have listened attentively to hours of stories about this subject. If Terry (our esteemed Death Road driver) had ever wanted a captive audience - he had one now. I was both sad and relieved that he said the danger is kind of sensationalized for television documentaries. But I bet he is just conditioned to say that so his wife didn't spend her every waking hour in prayer for his safety!
I'm not sure where I'm going with this. But if you're bored....it's a topic you can google or something.
Hope you had a great weekend!
Ummm....if this is my way to work, I'll starve thanks!
PS, a very sincere "Thank You" to all of our Nation's Armed Forces past and present! I'm incredibly passionate about respecting these people, their families, and all they risk to protect our nation! Even something as simple as writing this blog today is possible because of your tireless work to keep this a nation of freedom. Thank you, thank you, thank you!!
Monday, May 16, 2011
And......We're Back!
So it's been awhile since my last post. I've been thinking about writing for some time but the problem was that I didn't know where to start! I have so many "this is what we did" stories and pictures, but after a month of no updates I wasn't sure which qualified as crossing that line into interesting and worthwhile reading. But then again, not much I write about is ground breaking journalism to begin with. That is unless, you too, understand why finding a missing Spider-Man head can be the dividing line between a great day or one that makes you question your past birth control choices.
So....hmmmmm....let me see. I guess I'll do a mini-update! Tsunamis: I conquered my fear and went back to the beach! Let me be extra clear that this was only because it was Luke's company trip and because there was a free massage involved. So with heavy relaxation in mind, we left the kids behind and headed to Salishan Resort where I would have one very peaceful nights sleep that wouldn't end with Handy Manny at 5:30 in the morning. Bliss! Except.....
I'm not someone who thinks that an hour long massage is Heaven on Earth. Beyond the awkward touching between strangers, it's actually the environment I have an issue with. I mean, think about it! Dark room....stranger....candles....new age music....people pay for stuff like this?! Other people (like me) file police reports for stuff like this! In any case, during a typical hour long massage it usually takes me about 30 minutes to stop the conversation in my head that I use as a distraction from my #1 enemy....silence. If you know me, you know that silence isn't my strong point. I can find a way and a story to fill even 2 minutes of dead air with anyone from my kids to a stranger in a lobby. Yeah....I'm "that" person in front of you in the grocery store line asking the checker if they've ever tried Chocolate Cheerios while it's obvious that all they care about is that their state mandated 15 minute break is running late and desperately needed after an influx of novice "extreme couponers." But worse than the silence, and worse than the fact that this massage was at sea level (can I survive 3 days in a spa robe until help arrives provided I even find high ground??) was the fact that I had my very first male massage therapist. Ummm.....aren't there just some professions that are best left to one gender or the other? A male therapist massaging a female in a closed room = awkward. A male therapist massaging a male in a closed room = really awkward. No offense to my masseuse Greg (or whatever his name was) but unless you are 25, a Cross-Fit® trainer on the side, and my husband totally approves*, I NEVER want to tell you what I think feels good! NEVER.
Other than that, our main adventure in the last month was a family trip to the Great Wolf Lodge. I eagerly booked two nights as soon as I saw the following magic words on their website : "84 degrees every day!" SOLD.
Our trip can best be summed up by a list of souvenirs -
So....hmmmmm....let me see. I guess I'll do a mini-update! Tsunamis: I conquered my fear and went back to the beach! Let me be extra clear that this was only because it was Luke's company trip and because there was a free massage involved. So with heavy relaxation in mind, we left the kids behind and headed to Salishan Resort where I would have one very peaceful nights sleep that wouldn't end with Handy Manny at 5:30 in the morning. Bliss! Except.....
I'm not someone who thinks that an hour long massage is Heaven on Earth. Beyond the awkward touching between strangers, it's actually the environment I have an issue with. I mean, think about it! Dark room....stranger....candles....new age music....people pay for stuff like this?! Other people (like me) file police reports for stuff like this! In any case, during a typical hour long massage it usually takes me about 30 minutes to stop the conversation in my head that I use as a distraction from my #1 enemy....silence. If you know me, you know that silence isn't my strong point. I can find a way and a story to fill even 2 minutes of dead air with anyone from my kids to a stranger in a lobby. Yeah....I'm "that" person in front of you in the grocery store line asking the checker if they've ever tried Chocolate Cheerios while it's obvious that all they care about is that their state mandated 15 minute break is running late and desperately needed after an influx of novice "extreme couponers." But worse than the silence, and worse than the fact that this massage was at sea level (can I survive 3 days in a spa robe until help arrives provided I even find high ground??) was the fact that I had my very first male massage therapist. Ummm.....aren't there just some professions that are best left to one gender or the other? A male therapist massaging a female in a closed room = awkward. A male therapist massaging a male in a closed room = really awkward. No offense to my masseuse Greg (or whatever his name was) but unless you are 25, a Cross-Fit® trainer on the side, and my husband totally approves*, I NEVER want to tell you what I think feels good! NEVER.
Other than that, our main adventure in the last month was a family trip to the Great Wolf Lodge. I eagerly booked two nights as soon as I saw the following magic words on their website : "84 degrees every day!" SOLD.
Our trip can best be summed up by a list of souvenirs -
- MagiQuest Wand
- Set of Wolf Ears
- Case of Pink Eye (No extra charge for that!)
* Side note: For those of you wondering.....Luke didn't approve even when it was a man more likely to go shopping with me than to hit on me in a bar.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Ding Ding Ding....It All Makes Sense!
Just so you know, you all let me down.....hard! I thought that writing about my earthquake fear would be therapeutic and that I would get email after email from friends telling me that I am embarrassing myself in a public forum with complete and utter nonsense! Instead I got emails, phone calls, texts, and posts offering me Xanax from secret stashes and countless people admitting that they too had cleared out some garage shelves for drinking water and flashlights. But you all couldn't leave it there...could you? No, No, No....you just couldn't! You had to take it one step farther with little quips like this:
"I'm not scared of earthquakes, but.....
(a) I'm afraid of biological terrorist attacks on our drinking water"
(b) I'm afraid of nuclear waste leaking into the Pacific Ocean"
(c) I'm afraid of domestic shootings and bank robberies"
(d) I'm afraid of Grey's Anatomy doing another Musical Episode"
Okay, I made that last one up. It is actually a true fear though! (Side note: Really? Eight melancholy songs with an upbeat "make-out" melody tossed in the middle? That made it past focus groups and ABC executives???) Regardless, I did learn a few things from this whole mini-anxiety attack. You might want to write these down:
1. At the beach? Feel an earthquake? High ground people.....get to high ground!! Why isn't this paired with "Stop, Drop, and Roll" as a child for us coastal state residents? I could have died playing Fascination in Seaside trying to win a key chain up until this point in my life when Channel 8 decided to cram fear down our throats for 2 straight week post Japanese tragedy!
2. You all now need to think twice before leaving your purses and/or bags unguarded in my presence. I wasn't aware that most of you are in possession of such fine mood enhancers! I've always bragged that I surround myself with happy, positive, and uplifting individuals! Ding, Ding, Ding...it all makes sense now!
3. Do NOT under ANY circumstance watch the show "It Could Happen Tomorrow" unless you have a drug toting friend who really is dumb enough to leave their purse unguarded in your presence. Don't think you won't sink that low after this mega-depressor! After watching this show for 2 hours straight I developed my own conspiracy theory that the head producer is actually a commissioned anxiety drug salesman. Job well done, sir! You've been promoted....
In any case, I didn't mean for this blog to be about earthquakes, but I thought I should at least give a mini-update as to my sanity level. (Insert your obligatory joke about how I was never sane in the first place...good one!) I actually meant for this blog to be about another issue I have encountered in my daily life: jean hoarding!
I discovered this horrific personal trait while cleaning out my closet yesterday. Important to note - I didn't say "jean addict," I said "jean hoarding." You see, a jean addict is someone who spends a little too much time doing retail therapy at The Buckle. A jean hoarder is someone who never throws away any jeans on the very slight off chance that some day (a) I might be that thin again (b) I might be that heavy again (c) high-waisted denim might come back into style (almost there!!) or (d) I will use a pair as "painting pants". I am so embarrassed that I found about 15 pairs of random old jeans tucked in the back of my closet! Seriously, if I ever lost all the photos of my twenties I could have pulled those things out for an equally reminiscent jaunt down memory lane. After trying every pair on (some too tight - boo!, some too loose - yey, but all equally heinous and time warped) I finally found the courage to put most of them in a Goodwill bag. Even that felt wrong though! Part of me wondered if it should be federally mandated that I burn them in the same way that they require that expired car seats be destroyed!? I cringe at the thought of another 5 footer picking a pair of these up for $5.99 while all I get is a tiny tax write off and a lost opportunity to compare my current body to my college body. Shut up...you know you do it too! :) Right?!?! C'mon.....right?! Just me?!
"I'm not scared of earthquakes, but.....
(a) I'm afraid of biological terrorist attacks on our drinking water"
(b) I'm afraid of nuclear waste leaking into the Pacific Ocean"
(c) I'm afraid of domestic shootings and bank robberies"
(d) I'm afraid of Grey's Anatomy doing another Musical Episode"
Okay, I made that last one up. It is actually a true fear though! (Side note: Really? Eight melancholy songs with an upbeat "make-out" melody tossed in the middle? That made it past focus groups and ABC executives???) Regardless, I did learn a few things from this whole mini-anxiety attack. You might want to write these down:
1. At the beach? Feel an earthquake? High ground people.....get to high ground!! Why isn't this paired with "Stop, Drop, and Roll" as a child for us coastal state residents? I could have died playing Fascination in Seaside trying to win a key chain up until this point in my life when Channel 8 decided to cram fear down our throats for 2 straight week post Japanese tragedy!
2. You all now need to think twice before leaving your purses and/or bags unguarded in my presence. I wasn't aware that most of you are in possession of such fine mood enhancers! I've always bragged that I surround myself with happy, positive, and uplifting individuals! Ding, Ding, Ding...it all makes sense now!
3. Do NOT under ANY circumstance watch the show "It Could Happen Tomorrow" unless you have a drug toting friend who really is dumb enough to leave their purse unguarded in your presence. Don't think you won't sink that low after this mega-depressor! After watching this show for 2 hours straight I developed my own conspiracy theory that the head producer is actually a commissioned anxiety drug salesman. Job well done, sir! You've been promoted....
In any case, I didn't mean for this blog to be about earthquakes, but I thought I should at least give a mini-update as to my sanity level. (Insert your obligatory joke about how I was never sane in the first place...good one!) I actually meant for this blog to be about another issue I have encountered in my daily life: jean hoarding!
I discovered this horrific personal trait while cleaning out my closet yesterday. Important to note - I didn't say "jean addict," I said "jean hoarding." You see, a jean addict is someone who spends a little too much time doing retail therapy at The Buckle. A jean hoarder is someone who never throws away any jeans on the very slight off chance that some day (a) I might be that thin again (b) I might be that heavy again (c) high-waisted denim might come back into style (almost there!!) or (d) I will use a pair as "painting pants". I am so embarrassed that I found about 15 pairs of random old jeans tucked in the back of my closet! Seriously, if I ever lost all the photos of my twenties I could have pulled those things out for an equally reminiscent jaunt down memory lane. After trying every pair on (some too tight - boo!, some too loose - yey, but all equally heinous and time warped) I finally found the courage to put most of them in a Goodwill bag. Even that felt wrong though! Part of me wondered if it should be federally mandated that I burn them in the same way that they require that expired car seats be destroyed!? I cringe at the thought of another 5 footer picking a pair of these up for $5.99 while all I get is a tiny tax write off and a lost opportunity to compare my current body to my college body. Shut up...you know you do it too! :) Right?!?! C'mon.....right?! Just me?!
 |
| ***Not my actual jeans, but it felt more official with a picture*** |
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Florida, North Dakota, Bend.
Is anyone reading this legally allowed to write me a prescription for Xanax? I knew I should have been way nicer to those kids studying chemistry in college!! I really did a horrible job anticipating my future networking needs and instead spent countless nights in the business computer lab working hard to earn a "marketing" degree. I mean, what can all my OSU business classmates help me out with now? If I'm lucky maybe one of them got some cushy job as the head of brand development for Red Bull and I might score a free caffeinated drink provided I find them on Facebook and relish in the good ole times where I did their share of group work because I am type A and their writing skills weren't up to par. (side note: Clearly my writing skills are A+ as evidenced by the fact that I never do run on sentences.....ever!) Regardless, I don't need caffeine....I need Xanax! Yesterday! Last Week!
Oh...I hate the news! I try not to live in fear, but someone at KGW is doing a great job because I am trying hard to decide whether buying 20 gallons of water or physically moving my family to Bend is a more effective solution to squashing my reawakened lifelong fear of mega-earthquakes. Am I the only one going through this? Is anyone else sweating bullets that we live in a place where this can truly happen? In all honesty, I've come a long way since last week. Moving to Bend is a mental compromise where I can still be close to my family but earthquakes won't feel as big. Last week I actually wanted to move to Florida or North Dakota which are the two states least likely to have any type of earthquakes. Do you want to know how I know this? Because I am crazy earthquake/tsunami research lady now! It's out of control! For instance, we're supposed to take the kids on a nice little beach vacation after tax season this year. Do you know how I am choosing my destination? I'm selecting it based on which city has an abundance of quickly accessible "high ground" in case a mega-quake creates a tsunami that leaves me only 15 minutes to find a local mountain top! I'm considering writing off the Oregon Coast all together the rest of my life. It's overrated. Not even warm. This, of course, was all going on in my head before I presented my plan to my husband who looked at me like I was crazy before saying, "You realize that there is like a billion percent more chance that we get into a car accident on the way to the beach?" Good point. Driving is overrated too. You know, I've been looking for some motivation to start the "Couch to 5K" program! Escaping an Oregon Coast tsunami may give me a renewed interest in increasing my stamina for long distance running. Always a silver lining, right? In 6 months I'll thank this fear for my stunning new figure!
So anyway, I'm not trying to scare anyone or bring you down to my level. Please understand this fear is coming from someone who volunteers to hold coats while everyone else is going on Splash Mountain because that last vertical drop into the water makes me stomach quiver and cute little animated cartoons singing Disney songs hardly puts my soul at ease. (Side note: If you ever go to Disneyland you might consider taking me as paid staff. I'll watch your strollers too!). And I've actually been in Earthquakes before (practically sitting on the epicenter of that 5.6 in 1993....you Canby folks remember that?!) and it wasn't as horrible as I imagined. I just threw my covers over my head because if anything was going to protect me it was going to be a floral duvet cover! And besides that, the only thing my recent research proved is that Geologists say a 9.0 could hit Oregon/Washington today or it could be another 700 years. Yeah, they got paid Lord knows much to reach that conclusion once again proving that I picked the wrong major in college...
Talk me down people! I can tell I'm overreacting because I made my husband bolt the playroom shelves to the wall! Of course Luke told me he wasn't doing it because of my earthquake fears, but because more likely than that some kid was going to climb it and we would be forced to test the limits of our homeowner's insurance policy regarding accidental injury. Really I think he just knows that bolting those things is easier than listening to me do my "move away from the shelf drills" with the kids on an ongoing basis which yes, I did do!
Speaking of homeowner's insurance, if anyone is looking for a new agent (Life/Home/Auto) my brother in law is featured in this month's Portland Monthly as one of Portland's best Insurance Agents! Way to go Nate!! Congratulations! Here's to hoping I never have to call you to utilize one of my policies :)
Check Out Nate's Website Here!
Oh...I hate the news! I try not to live in fear, but someone at KGW is doing a great job because I am trying hard to decide whether buying 20 gallons of water or physically moving my family to Bend is a more effective solution to squashing my reawakened lifelong fear of mega-earthquakes. Am I the only one going through this? Is anyone else sweating bullets that we live in a place where this can truly happen? In all honesty, I've come a long way since last week. Moving to Bend is a mental compromise where I can still be close to my family but earthquakes won't feel as big. Last week I actually wanted to move to Florida or North Dakota which are the two states least likely to have any type of earthquakes. Do you want to know how I know this? Because I am crazy earthquake/tsunami research lady now! It's out of control! For instance, we're supposed to take the kids on a nice little beach vacation after tax season this year. Do you know how I am choosing my destination? I'm selecting it based on which city has an abundance of quickly accessible "high ground" in case a mega-quake creates a tsunami that leaves me only 15 minutes to find a local mountain top! I'm considering writing off the Oregon Coast all together the rest of my life. It's overrated. Not even warm. This, of course, was all going on in my head before I presented my plan to my husband who looked at me like I was crazy before saying, "You realize that there is like a billion percent more chance that we get into a car accident on the way to the beach?" Good point. Driving is overrated too. You know, I've been looking for some motivation to start the "Couch to 5K" program! Escaping an Oregon Coast tsunami may give me a renewed interest in increasing my stamina for long distance running. Always a silver lining, right? In 6 months I'll thank this fear for my stunning new figure!
So anyway, I'm not trying to scare anyone or bring you down to my level. Please understand this fear is coming from someone who volunteers to hold coats while everyone else is going on Splash Mountain because that last vertical drop into the water makes me stomach quiver and cute little animated cartoons singing Disney songs hardly puts my soul at ease. (Side note: If you ever go to Disneyland you might consider taking me as paid staff. I'll watch your strollers too!). And I've actually been in Earthquakes before (practically sitting on the epicenter of that 5.6 in 1993....you Canby folks remember that?!) and it wasn't as horrible as I imagined. I just threw my covers over my head because if anything was going to protect me it was going to be a floral duvet cover! And besides that, the only thing my recent research proved is that Geologists say a 9.0 could hit Oregon/Washington today or it could be another 700 years. Yeah, they got paid Lord knows much to reach that conclusion once again proving that I picked the wrong major in college...
Talk me down people! I can tell I'm overreacting because I made my husband bolt the playroom shelves to the wall! Of course Luke told me he wasn't doing it because of my earthquake fears, but because more likely than that some kid was going to climb it and we would be forced to test the limits of our homeowner's insurance policy regarding accidental injury. Really I think he just knows that bolting those things is easier than listening to me do my "move away from the shelf drills" with the kids on an ongoing basis which yes, I did do!
Speaking of homeowner's insurance, if anyone is looking for a new agent (Life/Home/Auto) my brother in law is featured in this month's Portland Monthly as one of Portland's best Insurance Agents! Way to go Nate!! Congratulations! Here's to hoping I never have to call you to utilize one of my policies :)
Check Out Nate's Website Here!
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Item of the Week
Well today was supposed to change my life, and it didn't. So much for winning the St. Patrick's Day Million Dollar Raffle! Oh well, living mortgage free is overrated, right? It's a good thing I never started packing my bags for that Hawaiin vacation (I had already mentally purchased tickets) that I was going to use to celebrate our good fortune. If you're not sad for me, you should be! I'll have you know that I was going to rent a few houses for my closest friends and hold a huge celebratory party Island Style! Of course my hypothetical party plan kind of ignored the fact that $1,000,000 after taxes might not totally cover the tab of what I deem to be "Island Style." I guess I'll just hold onto our losing ticket so I can claim it as a deduction when I finally do win a jackpot. Did you know you could do that? As if when you win millions of dollars your first concern is going to be digging out and organizing all of your losing lottery tickets so that you can claim a $100 deduction against your winnings. Regardless, I'll hold onto it just in case. It makes me feel like an optimist!
Maybe it's better that I didn't win because I would probably be one of those people who lost touch with reality and went all crazy. My idea of crazy though would be spending $1.99 on a pack of foil star stickers for Emery's potty chart instead of making a special trip to the Dollar Store to save the 99¢ difference. Speaking of the Dollar Store, I went there the other day for this exact reason! I have a love/hate relationship with the Dollar Store. For example, I love that I can buy a gift bag there for $1 instead of the $4.99 that Hallmark charges. I hate that it costs me an extra $4 to buy that bag when I get distracted by giant boxes of Mike & Ike's and Nerds. Another thing I hate is that there are times when I find myself mid-aisle staring off into space contemplating things like:
1. Whose idea was it to have "Item of the Week" and not make that item less than $1? Imagine how much they pay to have those dang posters printed when it's not like some "extreme-couponer" (sidenote: has anyone seen that show??) is going to show up and clear the shelf out for theirhoarding pleasure "stockpile". Not when you can get the very same thing next week for........$1.
2. There may be some good deals there but there are some serious traps too! For instance, I saw another huge poster highlighting the fact that they have H&R Block tax filing software. Imagine the convenience and savings! Except.....it's Federal filing only and just in case you don't keep up on tax software, it's FREE online. All you get for $1 (in this case) is a CD that you can use as a pint glass coaster if you still decorate like it's your junior year in college.
3. Who trains these cashiers? (Part I). Instead of meandering through the whole store I thought to ask someone if they knew if they carry star stickers. I won't deny that the employee was incredibly eager to help me find them. The only problem is that she finally caught up with me 10 minutes later to apologize that they don't stock them as I stood in the middle of their school supply aisle putting two boxes of said stickers in my basket. "Whoa," she said! "You better buy those now in case we don't have them later!" Yeah, because I'm pretty sure the Dollar Store has a monopoly on foil star stickers? "A" for effort on this sales pitch, but I'm not thinking a commissioned sales position is in her future.
4. Who trains these cashiers? (Part 2). Why does it take so long to do the math for change? Lady....I'm a patient person, really I am! But we're working with WHOLE DOLLARS here! I gave you a ten. I bought 3 things. Why do you have a calculator? Why are you using it? I wonder if she applied in Washington but the sales tax tripped her up so she got demoted to Oregon? This state is probably the pit of Dollar Store employees for that very reason....
You know, there are some days when I feel really productive and like I have something to say that some of you might be interested in. And there are days like today when I re-read what I wrote and slowly realize that I shouldn't admit I've given any topic that much thought. At least those employees are working and contributing to society! I, on the other hand, was just killing time writing this while I wait for my Net-Flix to get here. Better go check the mail!
PS...I don't have anything against "extreme couponers" for a family looking to save some money. But if you're hoarding 300 toothbrushes and 30 years of toilet paper just so you can brag that you saved $300 while having to buy a bigger house to store it all in....you have math skills that rival those of my last Dollar Store cashier :)
Maybe it's better that I didn't win because I would probably be one of those people who lost touch with reality and went all crazy. My idea of crazy though would be spending $1.99 on a pack of foil star stickers for Emery's potty chart instead of making a special trip to the Dollar Store to save the 99¢ difference. Speaking of the Dollar Store, I went there the other day for this exact reason! I have a love/hate relationship with the Dollar Store. For example, I love that I can buy a gift bag there for $1 instead of the $4.99 that Hallmark charges. I hate that it costs me an extra $4 to buy that bag when I get distracted by giant boxes of Mike & Ike's and Nerds. Another thing I hate is that there are times when I find myself mid-aisle staring off into space contemplating things like:
1. Whose idea was it to have "Item of the Week" and not make that item less than $1? Imagine how much they pay to have those dang posters printed when it's not like some "extreme-couponer" (sidenote: has anyone seen that show??) is going to show up and clear the shelf out for their
2. There may be some good deals there but there are some serious traps too! For instance, I saw another huge poster highlighting the fact that they have H&R Block tax filing software. Imagine the convenience and savings! Except.....it's Federal filing only and just in case you don't keep up on tax software, it's FREE online. All you get for $1 (in this case) is a CD that you can use as a pint glass coaster if you still decorate like it's your junior year in college.
3. Who trains these cashiers? (Part I). Instead of meandering through the whole store I thought to ask someone if they knew if they carry star stickers. I won't deny that the employee was incredibly eager to help me find them. The only problem is that she finally caught up with me 10 minutes later to apologize that they don't stock them as I stood in the middle of their school supply aisle putting two boxes of said stickers in my basket. "Whoa," she said! "You better buy those now in case we don't have them later!" Yeah, because I'm pretty sure the Dollar Store has a monopoly on foil star stickers? "A" for effort on this sales pitch, but I'm not thinking a commissioned sales position is in her future.
4. Who trains these cashiers? (Part 2). Why does it take so long to do the math for change? Lady....I'm a patient person, really I am! But we're working with WHOLE DOLLARS here! I gave you a ten. I bought 3 things. Why do you have a calculator? Why are you using it? I wonder if she applied in Washington but the sales tax tripped her up so she got demoted to Oregon? This state is probably the pit of Dollar Store employees for that very reason....
You know, there are some days when I feel really productive and like I have something to say that some of you might be interested in. And there are days like today when I re-read what I wrote and slowly realize that I shouldn't admit I've given any topic that much thought. At least those employees are working and contributing to society! I, on the other hand, was just killing time writing this while I wait for my Net-Flix to get here. Better go check the mail!
PS...I don't have anything against "extreme couponers" for a family looking to save some money. But if you're hoarding 300 toothbrushes and 30 years of toilet paper just so you can brag that you saved $300 while having to buy a bigger house to store it all in....you have math skills that rival those of my last Dollar Store cashier :)
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Are Quarters Magnetic?
So yesterday I took the kids to the mall. Isn't it funny how that alone is worthy of a blog entry when there was a time (not long ago) when writing about going to a mall would be the equivalent of writing about the fact that I decided to have lunch on any given day? Regardless, that's where the story starts....at Washington Square Mall.
Now there are a few reasons I don't go to the mall anymore:
1. We don't fit. Have you ever compared the size of a double wide stroller to the size of an average shopping aisle? No wonder my husband was so quick to say yes to my request for a Double Bob! It's the last thing I've ever bought because owning it makes it impossible to shop anywhere including places like Gymboree or Gap Kids where their marketing geniuses have yet to figure out that if they made the stores stroller friendly, they might sell more to (wait for it......) their target consumer! Novel idea huh?
2. I don't have enough quarters. I don't think I've ever lied about the fact that sometimes I'm more about sanity than teaching moral lessons in front of an audience of strangers. For example, if I have to choose between teaching Emery that he can't have everything he wants like the "pay rides" (conveniently located next to the free play area) through his sobbing tears while holding a baby that just threw her bottle at a passer by....guess what? I'll dig for 50¢, revel in the 20 minutes of peace it bought me, and save that lesson for a time when he wants something really dumb like that stupid remote control Bigfoot. Hmmmm.... now that I'm thinking about it, Gap Kids should just hire the people who thought to put the pay rides by the free play area! Those people knew what they were doing! The only way to get quarters out of my pocket faster would be to install industrial strength magnets at the door. (Wait....are quarters magnetic? If not....for the sake of the story, pretend they are.)
3. Subway. Who doesn't love $5 footlongs?? I'll tell you who! The Subway franchise owners at the mall! You know when you see the $5 Footlong commercial and it says really small on the bottom of the screen, "only valid at participating locations." Well guess which Subways don't participate? Yup....the mall ones. I don't know if it's my place to tell them, but being located next to a "hurricane simulator" should be reason enough to shed the superiority complex that is somehow developed by sharing your dining room with a Panda Express. I'll just tell you that I could taste $2 of resentment on my $7 turkey sub.
4. Shopping is a big tease. Forget the fact that 99¢ of every $1 to my name goes to diapers and inflated preschool registration fees and (just for a second) pretend that funds are unlimited. Would that mean I could shop to my heart's content? NOT A CHANCE. I did go into the new H&M just to check out it. However it took me a box of raisins, a bag of grapes, and some freeze dried apples just to get through the first 3 rounders of the clothing equivalent to Ikea furniture. If you really think about it, that's roughly a $5 "snack tax" just to try and save $3 on a shirt. Economics people....economics. This is false savings!! I did buy a few things, but in my haste didn't realize that I had multiple H&M store hangers hiding in the crevices of my stroller canopy until I made it all the way to the parking lot. They'll make a lovely addition to my hall closet until I can rightfully return them when a) I go to the mall again and b) I remember to take them with me. In all honesty, those two conditions are a perfect storm of "never going to happen."
So in a nutshell, if it hadn't been for the grand prize of getting to spend 3 hours with my sister, it would be a trip that I wouldn't have taken. I did notice, however, that Nordstrom now has a complimentary 2 hour babysitting service for ages 3-8. They also have a gigantic sign on the door that says something to the effect of "We won't take your kid to the bathroom so if you think you're dropping them of here fully loaded and it's our problem....think again!" Still, that's a semi-step forward for any store! Now I can enjoy my God-given right to (window) shop for purses that I can't afford in peace!
Other than that, my weekend was great! Besides the fact that it was my own mother's birthday (Happy Birthday Mom!!) It was also my Mother-in-Laws birthday (as noted in a previous blog entry) and there was another surprise event for her. I hope Luke was taking notes because his father planned an all day wine escape complete with an amazing family dinner in wine country. I say it was amazing because this woman raised 5 kids and every one of them could still read the menu after 8 hours of tastings. Although I realize the purpose of the day was to celebrate her birthday, this was the first entire day I have spent kid-free with my husband in a long long loooooong time! Here is a picture of us.....together....without kids. (Thank you "Amber" for holding down the fort at home!)
Now there are a few reasons I don't go to the mall anymore:
1. We don't fit. Have you ever compared the size of a double wide stroller to the size of an average shopping aisle? No wonder my husband was so quick to say yes to my request for a Double Bob! It's the last thing I've ever bought because owning it makes it impossible to shop anywhere including places like Gymboree or Gap Kids where their marketing geniuses have yet to figure out that if they made the stores stroller friendly, they might sell more to (wait for it......) their target consumer! Novel idea huh?
2. I don't have enough quarters. I don't think I've ever lied about the fact that sometimes I'm more about sanity than teaching moral lessons in front of an audience of strangers. For example, if I have to choose between teaching Emery that he can't have everything he wants like the "pay rides" (conveniently located next to the free play area) through his sobbing tears while holding a baby that just threw her bottle at a passer by....guess what? I'll dig for 50¢, revel in the 20 minutes of peace it bought me, and save that lesson for a time when he wants something really dumb like that stupid remote control Bigfoot. Hmmmm.... now that I'm thinking about it, Gap Kids should just hire the people who thought to put the pay rides by the free play area! Those people knew what they were doing! The only way to get quarters out of my pocket faster would be to install industrial strength magnets at the door. (Wait....are quarters magnetic? If not....for the sake of the story, pretend they are.)
3. Subway. Who doesn't love $5 footlongs?? I'll tell you who! The Subway franchise owners at the mall! You know when you see the $5 Footlong commercial and it says really small on the bottom of the screen, "only valid at participating locations." Well guess which Subways don't participate? Yup....the mall ones. I don't know if it's my place to tell them, but being located next to a "hurricane simulator" should be reason enough to shed the superiority complex that is somehow developed by sharing your dining room with a Panda Express. I'll just tell you that I could taste $2 of resentment on my $7 turkey sub.
4. Shopping is a big tease. Forget the fact that 99¢ of every $1 to my name goes to diapers and inflated preschool registration fees and (just for a second) pretend that funds are unlimited. Would that mean I could shop to my heart's content? NOT A CHANCE. I did go into the new H&M just to check out it. However it took me a box of raisins, a bag of grapes, and some freeze dried apples just to get through the first 3 rounders of the clothing equivalent to Ikea furniture. If you really think about it, that's roughly a $5 "snack tax" just to try and save $3 on a shirt. Economics people....economics. This is false savings!! I did buy a few things, but in my haste didn't realize that I had multiple H&M store hangers hiding in the crevices of my stroller canopy until I made it all the way to the parking lot. They'll make a lovely addition to my hall closet until I can rightfully return them when a) I go to the mall again and b) I remember to take them with me. In all honesty, those two conditions are a perfect storm of "never going to happen."
So in a nutshell, if it hadn't been for the grand prize of getting to spend 3 hours with my sister, it would be a trip that I wouldn't have taken. I did notice, however, that Nordstrom now has a complimentary 2 hour babysitting service for ages 3-8. They also have a gigantic sign on the door that says something to the effect of "We won't take your kid to the bathroom so if you think you're dropping them of here fully loaded and it's our problem....think again!" Still, that's a semi-step forward for any store! Now I can enjoy my God-given right to (window) shop for purses that I can't afford in peace!
Other than that, my weekend was great! Besides the fact that it was my own mother's birthday (Happy Birthday Mom!!) It was also my Mother-in-Laws birthday (as noted in a previous blog entry) and there was another surprise event for her. I hope Luke was taking notes because his father planned an all day wine escape complete with an amazing family dinner in wine country. I say it was amazing because this woman raised 5 kids and every one of them could still read the menu after 8 hours of tastings. Although I realize the purpose of the day was to celebrate her birthday, this was the first entire day I have spent kid-free with my husband in a long long loooooong time! Here is a picture of us.....together....without kids. (Thank you "Amber" for holding down the fort at home!)
Cheers to the birthday girl! We love you mama-Stacy!
Small note:
I'm not ignoring my own mothers birthday. She's a little under the weather so we have postponed her birthday celebration. Feel better mom!
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Dr. Emery L. Schultz
Okay, so I really wrote this blog a few days ago but I couldn't post it until now because I didn't want to give away my Mother-in-Law's big birthday surprise! Now that the party is over I feel like it's okay if I give you a re-cap of a typical "stay at home mom" day. This should answer any of your questions as to why I have considered completing an accounting degree and strong-arming my husband into job sharing his career far away from Dora and Diego!
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6:55 AM: "Mommy.....mommy...is it wake up time yet? I think it is and I already woke Lu up too!" Awesome. You see, when you go to a job everyday you get to take a shower, get ready, eat breakfast (even if it's on the run), waltz into work, hang your jacket up, and THEN start your job. When you stay at home your job wakes you up at 6:55. NO MERCY.*
Today's agenda is packed because it is the day before my adorable Mother-in-Law's (let's say) 40th birthday. That probably doesn't mean much to many people, but it means something HUGE to me. It means that I am about to get a good kick in the rear from the procrastination patrol because, truth be told, I have been ignoring my assigned portion of "operation gift for grandma" which is an incredibly organized effort to give her a sentimental present from all the little ones who follow her around like a pack of puppies because they know she's a sucker at Target. Why did I ignore this seemingly small project? Well, first of all, it's kind of assumptive of you to think it's a small project. Second of all, it was because it involved mixing cement......and children....and me. Okay okay, it was actually a GREAT idea! Every grandchild was responsible for making grandma a very special stepping stone for her garden. But I have one kid who is OCD and doesn't want to get his hands dirty, and another one who is barely aware that she has hands. Translation: I was solely responsible for making grandma two very special stepping stones for her garden.
I'm telling you, I couldn't get Emery to press his little hand or foot into that wet cement for the life of me! There was one "glimmer of hope" moment when I heard the door between the garage and the playroom open and saw his little bare foot standing right next to my hands as they worked diligently to create a meaningful mosaic that grandma would cherish for years to come (no pressure).
Me: "Emery...do you want to put your foot right here?"
Emery: "What do I get for doing that?"
Me: "What do you want? You can have a jellybean" (Sidenote: I don't care how you feel about bribing kids. I'm not too proud to admit that jellybeans have bought me more than 5 minutes of sanity in my lifetime. I'll send you a trophy if you have a better idea and can manage to keep it to yourself.)
Emery: "No, I don't want to! Besides, I'm kind of cold out here."
Me: (looking up for the first time) "Emery! Why are you naked??!!!"
Emery: "My clothes are dirty! I want new ones!"
See, when I said my kid has OCD, that wasn't just for effect. I was being very serious! I probably have the only kid in America who won't eat chocolate because it, "makes his teeth dirty." I'm already checking out dental schools for him and imaging the mad amount of free whitening supplies I am going to get in about 20 years. Just the other night, for example, while having dinner at my husband's coworker's house he had a COMPLETE meltdown after dinner because we forgot to pack a toothbrush. Thank the good Lord above that the hostess had a few extra lurking in her closet. Some kids have blankets and some have special toys. Mine has his Wall-E power toothbrush. I'd be more worried about it except it's obvious that Emery won't be needing to block out any dates in his 2021 calendar for the NBA draft so I'm not opposed to working on plan B starting now! Extrapolate that same level of personal hygiene awareness to his clothes and you can imagine how much laundry I do.
Back to my day: If mixing cement while watching two children wasn't enough to take my breath away, the threat of snow was looming over the city. I could have swore this is what I heard the newscaster say:
"A winter snow warning has been put into effect for the Willamette Valley. Expect snow beginning Wednesday night through Thursday afternoon. Do you hear me Jenny Schultz? What I am telling you is that against your better judgment you need to get into the car NOW with both kids and brave the grocery store with everyone else who is panicking! What if you can't get out of your subdivision tomorrow and you run out of pre-sliced apples and have to convince Emery that bananas are just as good (a losing battle)?? Are you ready for that level of armageddon?"
Heck no I'm not! Into the car we went. You already know how I feel about grocery shopping with my kids so I'll spare you that story. Just know it involved Emery sitting on two loaves of bread and me trying to exchange them for unsmashed loaves while the manager was simultaneously restocking the shelf right next to me! That took some serious acting skills and about two minutes of forgetting my morals....
------------
Regardless, now it's Thursday and the inch of snow is finally here. You know what that means for me! An hour of helping Emery get dressed for the snow followed by 10 minutes of him actually playing in it. But hey, at least he has clothes on so that (I will accept) is a victory for today...
* I'm completely aware that working moms have it hard in an entirely different way! Trust me, I was one for a long time! But instead of taking it as a personal attack maybe you can just relish in the fact that you have a few glorious minutes every day where you can go the bathroom in peace...
-------------
6:55 AM: "Mommy.....mommy...is it wake up time yet? I think it is and I already woke Lu up too!" Awesome. You see, when you go to a job everyday you get to take a shower, get ready, eat breakfast (even if it's on the run), waltz into work, hang your jacket up, and THEN start your job. When you stay at home your job wakes you up at 6:55. NO MERCY.*
Today's agenda is packed because it is the day before my adorable Mother-in-Law's (let's say) 40th birthday. That probably doesn't mean much to many people, but it means something HUGE to me. It means that I am about to get a good kick in the rear from the procrastination patrol because, truth be told, I have been ignoring my assigned portion of "operation gift for grandma" which is an incredibly organized effort to give her a sentimental present from all the little ones who follow her around like a pack of puppies because they know she's a sucker at Target. Why did I ignore this seemingly small project? Well, first of all, it's kind of assumptive of you to think it's a small project. Second of all, it was because it involved mixing cement......and children....and me. Okay okay, it was actually a GREAT idea! Every grandchild was responsible for making grandma a very special stepping stone for her garden. But I have one kid who is OCD and doesn't want to get his hands dirty, and another one who is barely aware that she has hands. Translation: I was solely responsible for making grandma two very special stepping stones for her garden.
I'm telling you, I couldn't get Emery to press his little hand or foot into that wet cement for the life of me! There was one "glimmer of hope" moment when I heard the door between the garage and the playroom open and saw his little bare foot standing right next to my hands as they worked diligently to create a meaningful mosaic that grandma would cherish for years to come (no pressure).
Me: "Emery...do you want to put your foot right here?"
Emery: "What do I get for doing that?"
Me: "What do you want? You can have a jellybean" (Sidenote: I don't care how you feel about bribing kids. I'm not too proud to admit that jellybeans have bought me more than 5 minutes of sanity in my lifetime. I'll send you a trophy if you have a better idea and can manage to keep it to yourself.)
Emery: "No, I don't want to! Besides, I'm kind of cold out here."
Me: (looking up for the first time) "Emery! Why are you naked??!!!"
Emery: "My clothes are dirty! I want new ones!"
See, when I said my kid has OCD, that wasn't just for effect. I was being very serious! I probably have the only kid in America who won't eat chocolate because it, "makes his teeth dirty." I'm already checking out dental schools for him and imaging the mad amount of free whitening supplies I am going to get in about 20 years. Just the other night, for example, while having dinner at my husband's coworker's house he had a COMPLETE meltdown after dinner because we forgot to pack a toothbrush. Thank the good Lord above that the hostess had a few extra lurking in her closet. Some kids have blankets and some have special toys. Mine has his Wall-E power toothbrush. I'd be more worried about it except it's obvious that Emery won't be needing to block out any dates in his 2021 calendar for the NBA draft so I'm not opposed to working on plan B starting now! Extrapolate that same level of personal hygiene awareness to his clothes and you can imagine how much laundry I do.
Back to my day: If mixing cement while watching two children wasn't enough to take my breath away, the threat of snow was looming over the city. I could have swore this is what I heard the newscaster say:
"A winter snow warning has been put into effect for the Willamette Valley. Expect snow beginning Wednesday night through Thursday afternoon. Do you hear me Jenny Schultz? What I am telling you is that against your better judgment you need to get into the car NOW with both kids and brave the grocery store with everyone else who is panicking! What if you can't get out of your subdivision tomorrow and you run out of pre-sliced apples and have to convince Emery that bananas are just as good (a losing battle)?? Are you ready for that level of armageddon?"
Heck no I'm not! Into the car we went. You already know how I feel about grocery shopping with my kids so I'll spare you that story. Just know it involved Emery sitting on two loaves of bread and me trying to exchange them for unsmashed loaves while the manager was simultaneously restocking the shelf right next to me! That took some serious acting skills and about two minutes of forgetting my morals....
------------
Regardless, now it's Thursday and the inch of snow is finally here. You know what that means for me! An hour of helping Emery get dressed for the snow followed by 10 minutes of him actually playing in it. But hey, at least he has clothes on so that (I will accept) is a victory for today...
Snow Day!
* I'm completely aware that working moms have it hard in an entirely different way! Trust me, I was one for a long time! But instead of taking it as a personal attack maybe you can just relish in the fact that you have a few glorious minutes every day where you can go the bathroom in peace...
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Bat-Cave ® Beats Construction Paper...
Okay, last redesign for awhile. The most recent one was driving me nuts....not really my style. I didn't want to bore you with the honest reason why I changed the look in the first place, but I'm low on material today so I'll give you the rundown: it was because of the birds.
Unless you've been hiding under a rock you know the new show "Portlandia" is all the rage. Well I was laughing right along with everyone else until they dedicated an entire 4 minute clip to people who think putting a bird on something is the very last precursor to opening your own successful Etsy shop. After seeing that, I got a little paranoid about my simple little bird banner so I spent all of 20 minutes changing it. But you know what? I liked the birds. Truth be told, the reason I had the little green and pink birds on my original blog was because it matched Luelle's nursery. I had just completed that room when I started my blog (she was 10 months old....timely, I know) and was feeling a sense of barely deserved accomplishment. My in-laws had given her this insanely cute Pottery Barn bedding set (adorned with little birds happily sitting on branches) after they saw me drooling all over it one day at the store. Of course, it wasn't the birds that drove me to that exact bedding set. It was the fact that this particular bedding had stripes of neon green calmed down with colors like "celery" and "rose petal." You see, when we moved into this house, the room that is now the nursery was painted a neon green that dang near eradicated the need for an artificial lighting source! And after painting every last wall in my old house I was in no hurry to head to the Home Depot only to forget if I like eggshell or flat paint all while trying to pocket some extra stir sticks. So instead, I lazily planned an entire nursery around neon green walls and over a year later it finally looks like it was on purpose! It only took me 16 months of planning to save 3 hours of painting! I'm a genius....I know!!
That was a little more long-winded than it needed to be - sorry.
So I hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day! Luke and I aren't much for this holiday. He gives me flowers and all....but I don't need the whole she-bang. This year was going to be no different right up until Emery asked me, "Mom, what is Valentine's Day?" after watching 4 cartoons in a row that used the holiday as a background theme for teaching kids that biting won't win you friends on a playground. Shoot! Sometimes I forget that I am solely responsible for creating magical memories that will transcend any damage I've unknowingly done to my kid and keep him off the therapy couch for anything related to his childhood. Naturally I spent the twenty minutes after his question combing my house for last minute craft supplies. And when I say "comb" I should more clearly explain that short of a search and rescue squad I had to look in every drawer and closet in this house until I found pipe cleaners, construction paper, and glue sticks tucked way back in the garage underneath old wires that I will never use again but I am afraid to throw away just in case I find that 2 megapixel point-and-shoot circa 2001. In any case, I got out my little plastic scissors and told Emery that we were going to decorate the dining room for a special dinner with daddy. "What are you making for our special dinner?" he asked. Rub in kid.....rub it in! So you would be right if you guessed that I had Emery's attention for all of 2 paper hearts before he was back at his Bat-Cave ® leaving my broken construction paper dream behind him. At this point I had committed to the project though and spent the next hour hanging paper hearts and crepe paper by myself to make good on my promise for a special Valentine's Day party. When I was done it looked like the Dollar Store exploded pink, red, and purple. That's a home-run in my world!
I think Luke liked it when he got home and we were all waiting for him at the table. And in true three year old fashion, Emery took all the credit like somehow he, Batman, and Robin had supervised my hard work and painstakingly stood by while I placed hearts uttering things like, "A little lower on that one...."
I bet some of you got jewelry. I bet some of you got flowers. And I'm happy for you! But I got something even better! I got a little paper Valentine with a box of nerds that fit right into a tiny pre-perforated holder. "I read somewhere you liked the kind that has candy inside, that those are what the cool kids give away?" And that is why some people are just made for each other....
Put a Bird On It!
Unless you've been hiding under a rock you know the new show "Portlandia" is all the rage. Well I was laughing right along with everyone else until they dedicated an entire 4 minute clip to people who think putting a bird on something is the very last precursor to opening your own successful Etsy shop. After seeing that, I got a little paranoid about my simple little bird banner so I spent all of 20 minutes changing it. But you know what? I liked the birds. Truth be told, the reason I had the little green and pink birds on my original blog was because it matched Luelle's nursery. I had just completed that room when I started my blog (she was 10 months old....timely, I know) and was feeling a sense of barely deserved accomplishment. My in-laws had given her this insanely cute Pottery Barn bedding set (adorned with little birds happily sitting on branches) after they saw me drooling all over it one day at the store. Of course, it wasn't the birds that drove me to that exact bedding set. It was the fact that this particular bedding had stripes of neon green calmed down with colors like "celery" and "rose petal." You see, when we moved into this house, the room that is now the nursery was painted a neon green that dang near eradicated the need for an artificial lighting source! And after painting every last wall in my old house I was in no hurry to head to the Home Depot only to forget if I like eggshell or flat paint all while trying to pocket some extra stir sticks. So instead, I lazily planned an entire nursery around neon green walls and over a year later it finally looks like it was on purpose! It only took me 16 months of planning to save 3 hours of painting! I'm a genius....I know!!
That was a little more long-winded than it needed to be - sorry.
So I hope everyone had a great Valentine's Day! Luke and I aren't much for this holiday. He gives me flowers and all....but I don't need the whole she-bang. This year was going to be no different right up until Emery asked me, "Mom, what is Valentine's Day?" after watching 4 cartoons in a row that used the holiday as a background theme for teaching kids that biting won't win you friends on a playground. Shoot! Sometimes I forget that I am solely responsible for creating magical memories that will transcend any damage I've unknowingly done to my kid and keep him off the therapy couch for anything related to his childhood. Naturally I spent the twenty minutes after his question combing my house for last minute craft supplies. And when I say "comb" I should more clearly explain that short of a search and rescue squad I had to look in every drawer and closet in this house until I found pipe cleaners, construction paper, and glue sticks tucked way back in the garage underneath old wires that I will never use again but I am afraid to throw away just in case I find that 2 megapixel point-and-shoot circa 2001. In any case, I got out my little plastic scissors and told Emery that we were going to decorate the dining room for a special dinner with daddy. "What are you making for our special dinner?" he asked. Rub in kid.....rub it in! So you would be right if you guessed that I had Emery's attention for all of 2 paper hearts before he was back at his Bat-Cave ® leaving my broken construction paper dream behind him. At this point I had committed to the project though and spent the next hour hanging paper hearts and crepe paper by myself to make good on my promise for a special Valentine's Day party. When I was done it looked like the Dollar Store exploded pink, red, and purple. That's a home-run in my world!
I think Luke liked it when he got home and we were all waiting for him at the table. And in true three year old fashion, Emery took all the credit like somehow he, Batman, and Robin had supervised my hard work and painstakingly stood by while I placed hearts uttering things like, "A little lower on that one...."
I bet some of you got jewelry. I bet some of you got flowers. And I'm happy for you! But I got something even better! I got a little paper Valentine with a box of nerds that fit right into a tiny pre-perforated holder. "I read somewhere you liked the kind that has candy inside, that those are what the cool kids give away?" And that is why some people are just made for each other....
Monday, February 7, 2011
Hecho en Mexico
Does anyone know of a nice gift for an adorable little girl turning 3 that has at minimum 200 pieces? Preferably each piece would be critical for the toy to function properly so that if even one is lost it will result in a level 10 temper-tantrum and make it necessary for the dad to spend all day searching for something the size of a toothpick. I'm talking about a toy that will eventually reacquaint that same dad with every crevice of his couch only after leading him to discover what's been under his fridge, oven, and dishwasher. Does anyone know of anything like that? Because that is what I am going to get my brother's little girl for her birthday!
Let me back up....
This weekend was LuLu's first birthday party. Nothing big....a small family affair. Of course a small affair when both you and and your husband come from huge families translates into 25 adults in a standing-room-only kitchen that overlooks 7 little boys fighting over 4 trains while 3 little girls cry about who has what balloon. And smack dab in the center of it all is LuLu completely unaware that this entire spectacle is being painted as a party for her when in reality it's only purpose is to erase any sense of parental guilt that would be associated with acknowledging that a one year old has NO idea what their birthday is. Trust me. I tried to disregard the need for a big party this year. But 72 hours before the minuscule "grandparents only" dinner I planned, the intense feeling of motherly failure set in. Needless to say the next three days were a whirlwind of picking out streamers (that no one would notice), sending out invitations (that no one would read), and making a cake (that no one would eat.) So to those of you who thought I was kidding about shaping a Costco cake into a "1" - I wasn't. I'm no fool. This is diet season and even though everyone will "ooh and ahh" over a cake, no one is going near that thing unless it involves a photo opportunity! But the same guilt that had me sending out an Evite with only 3 days notice also had my gut wrenching at the thought of not making Lu's very first birthday cake myself. Of course by "myself" I mean having "Amber" supervise me while Betty Crocker and I relive the good old days when Cherry Chip cake reigned supreme and it counted as "baking" if you add two eggs and some vegetable oil to a mix and stirred.
Anyway, you know you have great families when you can pack a house on a Saturday night on very short notice. You also know that your twenties are a thing of the past when everyone around you has Saturday nights open. (Hmmm....how do I want to look at that one??) There was a perfect little crowd to sing Happy Birthday while Lu stared at her mini cake because, after all, she didn't want to eat a bite either. How was that even possible? My girl is a tank and she eats everything! Everything, that is, except my Cherry Chip masterpiece. Oh well. By this point all of the little cousins were wanting Lu to open her presents. Really what they wanted was to tear every last gift apart before Lu even set eyes on the giant pile of pink paper and glittery bows. But I'm so much wiser than I used to be....I now use this fact to my advantage! The best way to get presents opened fast and save everyone a big bore is to tell all the three year olds in the room that they can "help." 3 minutes.....done. Perfect. I kinda feel awkward for even allowing people to give my daughter presents when are already blessed in so many ways! But seeing as they all have good taste and it was mostly a pile of clothes I was able to let that fact slide for a few minutes. And just as I began to hold up the cutest pair of mini skinny jeans....I saw it.
No one else probably even noticed. But I did. I saw pink plastic vaguely in the shape of a barrel. I saw a grin on my brother's face and a glisten in his eye. And then in one quick swoop.....play...food...everywhere. 100 pieces of plastic play food to be exact. Ohhhhh......he had been waiting to do this for so long!!! With little cardboard boxes of cereal flying past tiny cans of corn my brother proudly shouted, "Everyone get some food! Play with it in this room. Play with it that room. Play with it all over the house!" Okay....Okay...I may have had this coming. Last year I bought his daughter the very same barrel of food along with a shopping cart for Christmas. It was an unassuming gift. My brother, however, likes to remind me that he spends every night picking up plastic french fries and miniature milk cartons that are all inscribed, "Hecho en Mexico." I keep telling him that at least it's better than China! Regardless, my gift was a gesture of love. His gift was a gesture of war. It's on Tim.....it's ON!
When in doubt.....distract with candy!
"Don't love it mom....."
Let me back up....
This weekend was LuLu's first birthday party. Nothing big....a small family affair. Of course a small affair when both you and and your husband come from huge families translates into 25 adults in a standing-room-only kitchen that overlooks 7 little boys fighting over 4 trains while 3 little girls cry about who has what balloon. And smack dab in the center of it all is LuLu completely unaware that this entire spectacle is being painted as a party for her when in reality it's only purpose is to erase any sense of parental guilt that would be associated with acknowledging that a one year old has NO idea what their birthday is. Trust me. I tried to disregard the need for a big party this year. But 72 hours before the minuscule "grandparents only" dinner I planned, the intense feeling of motherly failure set in. Needless to say the next three days were a whirlwind of picking out streamers (that no one would notice), sending out invitations (that no one would read), and making a cake (that no one would eat.) So to those of you who thought I was kidding about shaping a Costco cake into a "1" - I wasn't. I'm no fool. This is diet season and even though everyone will "ooh and ahh" over a cake, no one is going near that thing unless it involves a photo opportunity! But the same guilt that had me sending out an Evite with only 3 days notice also had my gut wrenching at the thought of not making Lu's very first birthday cake myself. Of course by "myself" I mean having "Amber" supervise me while Betty Crocker and I relive the good old days when Cherry Chip cake reigned supreme and it counted as "baking" if you add two eggs and some vegetable oil to a mix and stirred.
Anyway, you know you have great families when you can pack a house on a Saturday night on very short notice. You also know that your twenties are a thing of the past when everyone around you has Saturday nights open. (Hmmm....how do I want to look at that one??) There was a perfect little crowd to sing Happy Birthday while Lu stared at her mini cake because, after all, she didn't want to eat a bite either. How was that even possible? My girl is a tank and she eats everything! Everything, that is, except my Cherry Chip masterpiece. Oh well. By this point all of the little cousins were wanting Lu to open her presents. Really what they wanted was to tear every last gift apart before Lu even set eyes on the giant pile of pink paper and glittery bows. But I'm so much wiser than I used to be....I now use this fact to my advantage! The best way to get presents opened fast and save everyone a big bore is to tell all the three year olds in the room that they can "help." 3 minutes.....done. Perfect. I kinda feel awkward for even allowing people to give my daughter presents when are already blessed in so many ways! But seeing as they all have good taste and it was mostly a pile of clothes I was able to let that fact slide for a few minutes. And just as I began to hold up the cutest pair of mini skinny jeans....I saw it.
No one else probably even noticed. But I did. I saw pink plastic vaguely in the shape of a barrel. I saw a grin on my brother's face and a glisten in his eye. And then in one quick swoop.....play...food...everywhere. 100 pieces of plastic play food to be exact. Ohhhhh......he had been waiting to do this for so long!!! With little cardboard boxes of cereal flying past tiny cans of corn my brother proudly shouted, "Everyone get some food! Play with it in this room. Play with it that room. Play with it all over the house!" Okay....Okay...I may have had this coming. Last year I bought his daughter the very same barrel of food along with a shopping cart for Christmas. It was an unassuming gift. My brother, however, likes to remind me that he spends every night picking up plastic french fries and miniature milk cartons that are all inscribed, "Hecho en Mexico." I keep telling him that at least it's better than China! Regardless, my gift was a gesture of love. His gift was a gesture of war. It's on Tim.....it's ON!
When in doubt.....distract with candy!
"Don't love it mom....."
Thursday, February 3, 2011
I've Got My Eye on You, Valentine!
Well I was supposed to go to Bible study this morning but at the last minute Emery decided his digestive system wasn't in the mood. I don't think anyone needs any more details than that. You're welcome! In any case it left me some time to blog, but before I could get started I thought I would jazz it up a little with a new design. I have a confession to make. I really don't enjoy designing things for myself, but every once in awhile I just get sick of looking at the same thing. You would think that because design is my profession I would be all over trying to make this blog my calling card. But like a landscaper with weeds in his own yard, when I am all done with my real work the last thing I want to do is another few hours for fun. So instead, all you will ever get from me is a few 20-minute spruce ups here or there and I am going to consider that a victory!
On to more important things.....Yey for it being February! I don't know why I love this month so much. I think it stems back to childhood when we had those special Valentine's Day parties in school before parents went all crazy PC and gluten free. Remember when you got to make a little mailbox for your desk or when your parents took you to the store to pick out the perfect box of "insert cartoon here" valentines? The cool kids always gave away those lifesaver ones or the kind you could poke a sucker through. Not me though. I just got the plain old square ones with the perforated edges and flimsy envelopes. Wait a minute, I don't think it was really as stress free as I initially remembered it being now that I'm forcing a mental trip back. I totally forgot that just a very few (maybe 3) of those little squares were more rectangle shaped and slightly bigger than the others. Holy social pressure for an 8 year old!! Do you give your crush hoping he'll grasp the subtle enormity of your romantic gesture, or play it safe and give it to a friend knowing you may never ever experience 3rd grade love? And why did the creep in the corner give me a big one?! That can't be good! Furthermore, I think someone needs to intervene with the writers of those cards and explain that, "I've got my eye on you, Valentine" is not really a great written sentiment. Aside from the fact it's not possible that there was ever 8 people I wanted to say that to in my class, it's really just stalker creepy from the get-go.
Okay, scratch that. It wasn't Valentine's day that made me love February. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was just because that meant January was over and I think you all know how I feel about January. Looking back, God must have been on my side during my last pregnancy because as much as I wanted to wish away every singleday minute second of being overdue with Luelle, it was all worth it when she was born on February 1st instead of January 29th like we had originally expected. I checked into the hospital on the 31st around 6:00 pm and remember staring at that clock willing myself to make it six more hours so she could have a February birthday. Truthfully, that's not how it happened. I mean I did check in at 6:00, but willing myself to do anything has never been successful and Lu, in reality, picked her own birthday. For example, I also willed myself not to gain more than 20 pounds during pregnancy. Without going into too many details let's just say that was about as successful as the time I thought I could do a level 3 Jillian Michaels video on my first try because I "used to be in shape" and I was sure that there was no way possible any of my endurance had left me after an extended cardio hiatus. Apparently working out 2 years ago doesn't do much for you now. Who knew?
Speaking of loosing baby weight, while I was pregnant I was positive that my postnatal diet was going to start the very second that little girl joined us in the real world. Well that was an epic failure too!! Not only did I spend more time looking at the hospital menu than my own daughter in the first 5 minutes after her birth, but I ordered a hamburger and fries like it was today's Fresh Catch and at any moment a white gloved waiter was going to walk in and say "I'm sorry ma'am, the hamburger is no longer available this evening." I don't think (unless you've experienced it first hand) that you can even begin to contemplate what that first food tastes like after having a baby. At that very moment I would have bet all my money that Bobby Flay was having a Throw-Down in the Providence Cafeteria and I was the lucky chosen recipient of his gourmet entree.
Why can I not write without going on a tangent? What I was trying to get to is that this is LuLu's birthday week and we have a little party planned for her that I am trying to throw together very quickly. Being a second child, she's not going to have the grand bash that her brother did before her. Really the guest list just includes enough faces to fill in the background of some 1st birthday pictures so I have something to send to the yearbook her Senior year. It was originally even a smaller party than that before "Amber" was dang near appalled and at least convinced me to try and make a cake. So that's what's on my schedule for tomorrow. Well truthfully....by "make a cake" I mean buy a Costco cake, shape it into a "1" and refrost it before anyone is the wiser. Eat your heart out Pamela Susan... :)
Have a great day!!
The crazy-eyed Birthday Girl!
On to more important things.....Yey for it being February! I don't know why I love this month so much. I think it stems back to childhood when we had those special Valentine's Day parties in school before parents went all crazy PC and gluten free. Remember when you got to make a little mailbox for your desk or when your parents took you to the store to pick out the perfect box of "insert cartoon here" valentines? The cool kids always gave away those lifesaver ones or the kind you could poke a sucker through. Not me though. I just got the plain old square ones with the perforated edges and flimsy envelopes. Wait a minute, I don't think it was really as stress free as I initially remembered it being now that I'm forcing a mental trip back. I totally forgot that just a very few (maybe 3) of those little squares were more rectangle shaped and slightly bigger than the others. Holy social pressure for an 8 year old!! Do you give your crush hoping he'll grasp the subtle enormity of your romantic gesture, or play it safe and give it to a friend knowing you may never ever experience 3rd grade love? And why did the creep in the corner give me a big one?! That can't be good! Furthermore, I think someone needs to intervene with the writers of those cards and explain that, "I've got my eye on you, Valentine" is not really a great written sentiment. Aside from the fact it's not possible that there was ever 8 people I wanted to say that to in my class, it's really just stalker creepy from the get-go.
Okay, scratch that. It wasn't Valentine's day that made me love February. I don't know what it was. Maybe it was just because that meant January was over and I think you all know how I feel about January. Looking back, God must have been on my side during my last pregnancy because as much as I wanted to wish away every single
Speaking of loosing baby weight, while I was pregnant I was positive that my postnatal diet was going to start the very second that little girl joined us in the real world. Well that was an epic failure too!! Not only did I spend more time looking at the hospital menu than my own daughter in the first 5 minutes after her birth, but I ordered a hamburger and fries like it was today's Fresh Catch and at any moment a white gloved waiter was going to walk in and say "I'm sorry ma'am, the hamburger is no longer available this evening." I don't think (unless you've experienced it first hand) that you can even begin to contemplate what that first food tastes like after having a baby. At that very moment I would have bet all my money that Bobby Flay was having a Throw-Down in the Providence Cafeteria and I was the lucky chosen recipient of his gourmet entree.
Why can I not write without going on a tangent? What I was trying to get to is that this is LuLu's birthday week and we have a little party planned for her that I am trying to throw together very quickly. Being a second child, she's not going to have the grand bash that her brother did before her. Really the guest list just includes enough faces to fill in the background of some 1st birthday pictures so I have something to send to the yearbook her Senior year. It was originally even a smaller party than that before "Amber" was dang near appalled and at least convinced me to try and make a cake. So that's what's on my schedule for tomorrow. Well truthfully....by "make a cake" I mean buy a Costco cake, shape it into a "1" and refrost it before anyone is the wiser. Eat your heart out Pamela Susan... :)
Have a great day!!
The crazy-eyed Birthday Girl!
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