It's Always Something...

So this weekend will find us cramming all 3 growing children into the back of Pat's Grand Prix for an hour ride to a company picnic. I am actually THRILLED at this prospect as I haven't left the neighborhood once all week.

I haven't left the neighborhood all week because the Big Red Van is in a car repair shop in a small farming town about 3 hours West of our home.

Our Big Red Van is in B.F.E. because it broke down when Patrick was driving the kids to the wedding that I missed when I went to BlogHer instead. It broke down during a hail storm, to boot!

It's STILL at the shop because we are struggling so much financially that the difference between the new part and a used part was WORTH the wait. Sadly, the Big Red Van will be getting a NEW computer thingy because there aren't any used ones available. This is FABULOUS news in addition to the letter I just received from the IRS stating that we made a mistake in 2007 and must pay the government some magical, invisible money that we don't have.

And this is why I am happy. Happy to be squeezing into a small car and going to a free company picnic with hot dogs and softball and fresh air. Happy to be able to leave those stresses behind, if only for a few hours. Happy that my kids will be able to enjoy a bit of the fun of summer, since Mom and Dad have royally screwed up the finances.

A totally unrelated question:

Is this something I should be concerned about?
Unclear? Here's a close-up...
Corinne has taken to tying cords and belts around her stuffed animals and hanging them from random locations. "They like it, Mommy!" Suuuure. They LIKE being hung by their necks... I had to clarify, AGAIN, that she can NOT tie up our LIVING cats. EVER. This is an ongoing conversation in our home. One which I hope I pound into her little head before she murders our cats...

A typical evening...

None of us were on drugs.

Photo and video editing at www.OneTrueMedia.com



Hey look! A new giveaway on my review blog!!

Swinging in the rain... Just swiiiinging in the rain....

There isn't anything quite like a summer rain. The aroma that the water and earth produce is nothing short of exotic. Here, in suburban Illinois, I have access to an exotic smell. Amazing.

Even more amazing is the absolute joy coursing through my heart as my children are screaming through the raindrops. Dashing from yard to yard... Getting soaked and muddy and LOVING IT.

When I was a child, there was a large, open church field directly behind my house. My best friend and I would spend hours getting "lost" in that field. Hiding behind pine trees and under the church stoops, we would pretend to be explorers on the ocean. Sometimes we were pirates that cruelly stole loot and buried it in the baseball dugout. Sometimes we were orphans, searching for a family to love us while we survived countless tragedies. One of the best assets to our imagination was an honest-to-gosh rainstorm. A steady downpour in the middle of summer was best so our moms wouldn't claim it was too cold to get wet. A good soaking added dimension to our flailing shipwrecks and dramatic rescues. In a rainstorm, even the dingy gray rocks of Illinois become sparkling rubies and diamonds for orphans and pirates to uncover...

All of those memories flood back to my consciousness whenever it rains. And to witness my own children constructing their own memories of playing in a storm never fails to stagger me...

A very long post with way too many pictures and links...

COMPLETELY out of order of appearance, some of my new best friends for life. Whether they like it or not. Muwaaahaaaahaaaaa.....

Vodkamom aka. Deb. She really is as nice in person as she is online. And I was happy to meet someone shorter than I am. Deb was also extremely tolerant of me as I latched onto her awesome connections. Thanks for inviting me to join you, hon. I love you, and I hope we get to meet again. Vodkamom's quote from BlogHer: "Geek is the new black."
Only slightly intoxicated the Cheeseburgher party from martinis at the ice cream party. (try figuring THAT one out. Ice cream cakes and martinis....) Good GAWD it was hot in the burger party, especially once Kelly and I arrived. (wink) Kelly is ALSO just as nice as you think she is, despite her tendency to misplace valuable photography equipment, teach her son the incorrect final letter to the alphabet, and to eat the leftovers from room service trays.*Don't Scream! It's ok!! I know she's terribly frightening, but Scary Mommy, aka Jill, is much nicer than her name leads you to believe. We didn't get to get too drunk together, but I will always remember how we tried to nonchalantly sneak out of the final key note speech (zzzzzzzzz...) through a locked door. Muy suave.Coolness. Beyond hot and coolness here. Nothing screams "Women to Take Seriously" louder than a bunch of mothers in princess crowns. Megan, Erin, Cynthia, and Cara - I had a really great time with ya. These chicks were some of the only people I saw consistently, which means I got to know them much better than most people at the conference. I am still wondering if they actually LIKED having me around or if they just weren't very apt at hiding from me. Christina and I didn't actually get to talk this time! What the hell, girl? You looked gorgeous, btw. Maybe next time we can have a real conversation? :)The Mysterious Marinka... The Question of the Weekend: "Where's Marinka?" I honestly have no idea why, but I was asked that question repeatedly which is extremely funny (maybe only to me?) as I didn't realize I was supposed to keep tabs on her whereabouts. Thankfully, I learned my lesson and implanted a microchip in her scalp when she was distracted by her delicious hamburger by the river.... I can now answer that question via a constant satellite feed on my computer. Go ahead; Ask me. Where's Marinka????Maria has an enormous heart and surprised me with her sweet nature in person. Not that I thought she was as hard-core as her blog presents her as, but I DID think she would be a BIT rougher around the edges. I mean, I actually saw the Immoral Matriarch cover her face in a blush not once, but TWICE! Isn't that sweet? She's a doll. She DID freak me out a bit when she woke in the middle of the night, slapping the crap out of herself. It was only the next morning, when I saw her slapping her new tattoo, that I realized she wasn't into self-brutality. Her tat was just itchy.

My other roommate, Tara. I will forever remember her as the first girl I ever paid money to sleep with (Maria is the second It was a bizzzeeee weekend). Tara can rock a hat in a dress like no other, even while molesting sugary unicorns (do you have any pics of that, Tara?). Also, her eyes may just be even bluer than mine. Gorgeous, right?
Ahhh, Elisa. Elisa, Elisa, Elisa. My new buddy who's moving to Switzerland. Elisa and I managed to meet each other at every party, meal and seminar, completely by accident. (For real. Though she's gorgeous enough to stalk, for sure!) She's a sweetheart and I wish her the best in her move.
It was so good to put a 3-dimensional face to Pauline. Also, she smells GREAT. Pauline really is classy even while drinking chardonnay from a plastic cup and convincing her mom on the phone that she had enough cleavage showing. That? Is CLASS my friends.Meanwhile, Cindy Fey is the sort of person you want to have around to help you boost your ego. She complimented me so much, my hat wouldn't fit. Talk about a kind heart! Cindy, you are so sweet, and each time I see you I like even more.
See this face? Seeing this face right here made the trip worth the cost. Kristin, aka Kristabella of Full of Snark approached me after a session with the phrase, "I think I know you...." Yes. We did. We DO. But not from blogging. No, Kristin and I knew each other from about 15 years ago. We worked together in her dad's business before she went to college in Arizona. I have gone through her most recent posts and she is a RIOT. Kristin, you rock. I am so thrilled to have reconnected with you, and Patrick says hello as well. (I'm sorry I cried, but I loved your dad. He was a kind-hearted man and I'll always regret not having had a better goodbye for him...)Well. Now that I'm weepy AGAIN (I really am a sappy person) I would like to send a shout-out to a new person I can't wait to stalk, Mandi! Mandi feels responsible because I started crying while talking about my What Not To Wear post. (Seriously.) But hon, I meant it when I said I can cry over little shit. Don't take it to heart. Also, maybe you should room with ME next time because that other roommate of yours had some questionable habits. Am I right? **Here is that questionable roommate, now! This pic doesn't do justice to the quality of the gesticulations Kelly had going on as she was defending her version of the room service food debacle to Jim, aka BusyDad. Jim is one of the few people I was a little nervous about meeting, mainly because I really enjoy his blog (who doesn't?) but also because he's vaginally challenged. Add to that the fear that his wife will put me on "the list" if I were to admit that I kind of drunk-stalked him on Thursday night. (He has no idea about that. Please keep it on the down-low) Whether or not he really knew who the hell I was or not doesn't matter. Because he was acting as though he did, so I'm just going to roll with that idea.Julie - She's NOT "angry". She's just a deceptively cute blogger who could totally kick your ass with a smile. And your ass. Yours too. No shit. ;) Don't you love her flower?
(Please ignore my glassy eyes. I was only moderately wasted) Stacey, you rock my world. Thank you so much for extending your friendship to me. Whenever I was floundering a bit, you seemed to be there to invite me to join you and your group. And even though you are a size 2 after less than a month postpartum, I still love you.
CaraBeeeeeeee! I had a blast with you. Cara and her roomies were so kind to me. Truly. I'll never forget it, babe. I got your back, should you ever need me. (hits fist to chest and sky)
Speaking of roomies, there they are again! Erin, Megan, Cara and Cynthia. Mah bitches.
Jen and I didn't get to talk much, but I adore her blog. Also? She's quite adorable IRL. Muwah.Damn, sister soldier! I do believe you were following me! I am hoping you DO place more value on your work, hon. Your designs rock and people luv you. (Anyone need a new blog design? Better email Cynthia NOW before she jacks up her lowball prices.) I may just take you up on your offer, even if it was a drunken offer. An offer's an offer, babycakes. Wink, wink.

The swag I kept. There was a lot of stuff people tried to get you to bring home. But honestly, I don't need things in my house that I DON'T NEED. The goodies I WAS thrilled about? Some computer thingies for memory (what are those called again? Flashers? Yes? No? Ok. I was just told it is a flashDRIVE but I like "Flashers" better and will now begin my crusade to change the name.), 6 Strawberry Shortcake dolls (sadly, they're all the same, but I hid them before Corinne could see them. As I packed them into my closet with the free Mrs. Potato Head and Spiderman audio-book, I was ticking off future presents: Christmas for daughter, niece, other niece, Evan... SCORE!), and coupons for FREE food instead of money off. Happy, happy day it will be as I walk into the store and get 2 free Starbucks ice creams...

There are about 30 other women (and another man! Hi, Lou!) that I want to include here, but I don't have pictures of them, so they must not really exist. Right Issa? I left BlogHer happy that I went, but remorseful that I missed a good friend's wedding and a trial for my husband. (THAT story? Requires a bit more time to digest. Oy.) If I ever have the opportunity to attend again (cough.Sponsors and Advertisers please email me. cough.), I will go with a more open mind regarding the seminars (and a better list of cell numbers).

*For the record, she wasn't eating from the tray. It was a misunderstanding that Kelly was embarrassed by but kept repeating to everyone. It was quite humorous as the more she drank, the more she denied it. Me thinks thou dost protest too much!

**I really don't think she protests too much.

***I didn't actually have a spot in the post with 3 asterisks, but this is my blog and I can do what I want. My favorite remark of the weekend: "You're much prettier in person! And smaller, too!" Which I do believe was supposed to be a compliment except that it makes me wonder at just how ugly and fat I look online? :)

Twisted Sister Soldier...*

Conflicted, conflicted. So twisted up inside...

Did I have a good time at BlogHer? Yes. I did. It was nice. Met some wonderful women. Have some faces to put to the blog headers now. I experienced kindness in faces I had been only imagining for 3 years.

Certain family issues were occuring while I was in Chicago, though. And my absence during those situations became heavier on my shoulders the closer I got to home. The guilt I own over that absence is monumental and deafening.

I have a thousand posts in my head. I have a thousand brilliant, ingenious, never-before-seen spins on topics that will surely astound your brains. I have pictures of women I now hold as Friends with a capital F. I have cute stories and funny quips on how we never really leave high shool too far behind.

But not now.

Now, I must turn off this computer, withOUT checking all of your updates. Now, I need to figure some things out in silence, and dig through the mountain of responsibilities and issues that rest upon our shoulders.

Bear with me, old friends and new.

*For Cynthia. :)

Playground Hierarchy

Originally posted at the former Chicago Moms Blog on July 24, 2009

Playground Hierarchy

Be nice. Share. Be friends. Say you're sorry.

Our children have these phrases repeated to them DAILY. If we must work so hard to pound an idea into their minds, might there be some validity in the thought that this natural "pecking order" is not only natural, but a healthy part of the maturing process? Without having the chance to "be nice" or mean on our own, or share or hog, how does a child develop the backbone that is required to survive as an adult?

I distinctly recall my first chance to be a hero. My sister, only 2 years younger than I but always substantially shorter than her peers, was at the playground in the church yard behind our home. Only 5 or 6 years old at the time, she was also one of the youngest children in the gang of kids that ruled our block. Her choices for friends were usually those that were not only older than she was, but also physically bigger, as well. I watched from my yard as she was repeatedly pushed down by our "friends" over what was surely a typical childhood fight. The emotions that swirled through my 8 year old body can easily resurface in my 33 year old one at just the thought of that scene from long ago.

Furious and indignant that ANYone (other than myself) would push my little sister down and make her cry, I stomped across the field, shouting that they leave her alone. Not even phased at my shouts and threats, they finally said,

"Who's gonna make us?"

"ME!"

And, with that, I pulled back and threw my very first (and last) punch.

I knocked that little twerp right to the ground where she landed on the sand beside my crying sister.

"Hit her back, Suzie!" yelled her father from their yard where he had apparently witnessed part of the situation.

Thankfully, the stunned Suzie backed off and ran home, leaving me to face down the other girl, one of my "best" friends. She simply shrugged and walked away, leaving me to take my sister's hand and walk her back home. The adrenaline still rushing through my scrawny body, I was petrified to tell my mom what had happened, but knew I had to before Suzie's dad came over with his own version. Instead of the punishment I thought I would receive, my mom proudly hugged me for defending my sister. For standing up for what was right. She clued me in to my first real life lesson: standing up for yourself and for those who can't help themselves feels good.

If we had been fully supervised, as children generally are today, the situation would have gone a totally different direction. Not only would my sister not have been pushed more than once, I also wouldn't have had a chance to prove my devotion to her. If the moms had been monitoring all of our activities, then the children would have been forced to "be friends" with each other.

I don't believe that monitoring our kids is a bad idea. If anything, having parents nearby helps kids remember that they DO need to be nice to each other. And if they can't "be nice" then to go home and do something else until they CAN be nice. However, I also believe that too much interference is doing a huge disservice to our children. Without the opportunity to choose to be mean or nice, to defend someone or to stand aside and watch, our kids are deprived of the character building skills that all of us from different generations take for granted. Most kids that come to my yard are actually shocked when another child is unkind to them! Running up to my back door, they indignantly spout off all of the injustices that they perceive happened to them. Expecting me to march out and solve the problem, these children are generally open-mouthed when I tell them (after making sure that no one was truly physically HURT) to figure it out themselves.

It doesn't take long. They either figure it out or find someone else to play with. But they always come back. And with a greater understanding of what it takes to get along in a group. Hopefully, an ability that will grow with them throughout the rest of their lives...

It's beginning to look a lot like BlogHerrrrrrrr....

It's like freaking Christmas Eve for grown-ups that write online. I shit you not. I am literally twitching in my seat. I am continuously checking the clock. And I am sure I am forgetting something I wanted to bring, but at this point? I don't care. Just get me out of here!!

My mother-in-law, who has worked in Chicago for YEARS and knows the ins and outs of the public transportation, gave me a run-down on how to get from point A to B to C. I now know to go right and then left and then up and to look like I know what the hell I'm doing. Which I don't. I've only ever ridden a bus that wasn't yellow about 3 or 4 times. It's kind of freaking me out. So if you see a brunette with luggage hanging her head out the window of a CTA bus, arms wildly pointing "THAT way! BLOGGY FRIENDS!!!!" as the bus heads back into the burbs, it'll be me.

My sister is ready to wrangle my kids overnight. (THANK YOU)

I am ready to go away, by myself, for the first time. Ever. EVER. I never "went away" to college. I never had an apartment of my own (moved in with Pat. We lived in sin.). I have never checked into a hotel without someone beside me. I have never done a LOT of things that I will be doing this weekend.

I never thought I was that sheltered until I wrote it all down...

I feel like such a big girl today! I deserve a lollipop. I'll settle for a martini. Apple, please.

I hope that someone knows how to make Patrick's laptop turn on, because I haven't used it in a long time and he hasn't had a chance to run through it with me. I figure there should be enough computer geeks, er... EXPERTS, around to help with the technical stuff.

I hope to see bunches of faces I recognize. And I hope that more of us can do this again next year!

Getting over myself...

That's pretty cute, right? It fits the theme of my homemade blog header. It's to the point and obvious.

Too bad my printer is out of colored ink. Too bad I procrastinated so long that there isn't any time (or money!) to get the ink. Too bad anyone who meets me at BlogHer won't receive that simple but purposeful business card.

Nope. You'll get my basic stats on a colored piece of cardstock. No frills. Hand cut. Totally homemade here. I will TRY to be nonchalant about the crappy calling card I must pass out. I know it really doesn't matter. I mean, it won't matter to ME if YOUR card is homemade! I just want a card to remember your name and address by! So. I will pass them out and hope that next time, I remember to buy colored ink, if I should ever go to BlogHer again. (I sure hope so!)

Reading the Fine Print

Motherhood has an overabundance of "Fine Print" that no one encouraged you to read when you first murmured, "..we're thinking of starting a family..."

Fine print like a ten year old who flips OUT on you in the car. And you honestly don't know why. And you proceed to remain calm until, well, until YOU flip out. And you set a FABULOUS example for the 2 younger children who are witnessing this Ultimate Flip Out Session, ensuring yourself a future of at least 10 more years of people Flipping Out on you. Stellar.

Fine Print like having to watch a 3 year old who can quite LITERALLY give her Papa a heart attack if she continues to leap from the swing at the top of its arc at the park. Which she WILL continue to do because, well, because she is a reincarnated acrobat. It's in her nature to fling herself from high places.

Fine Print like having a heart attack of your OWN as your 7 year old dashes from behind a bushy tree across a very, VERY busy street WITHOUT LOOKING THE ENTIRE TIME!! (In situations like this, I find that the extremely tight ear hold is a good method for Getting Their Attention NOW. You can't bruise the ear and it opens the canal up for a good, strong scolding.)

Fine Print like having the POWER of the PARENT to turn the wrong way into your neighborhood so that you can keep listening to "Come On Eileen", even though your son is squealing that he hates that song.

Muwaaahaaaahaaa!!! Payback is a beeeyatch, kiddo!

I drove around the block. I went suuuuuper slow. I cranked that volume and SANG IT BABY! Super cool groovy chick, was I.

Though the song wasn't over, we creeped into our driveway where I proceeded to keep the song on (while holding Justin's arm back). Using the interior lights as a strobe, Evan and I ROCKED IT OUT. (Corinne, as is typical of my children, slept through it all).

All of the day's frustrations were forgotten as Mommy and kids be-bopped with abandon...


Sometimes, the Fine Print isn't so bad.

Keeping it simple.

Why is it that whenever you get a brilliant idea for a "simple" way to make the kids happy, it ends up becoming more complicated than explaining how to multiply fractions?

My brilliantly simple idea was to have my sister and nieces over for a camp-out in our backyard. Since I have no money and Patrick has practically no vacation time (new job and all), we were unable to go on our annual cousin camping trip. My kids and nieces really enjoy that tradition (as do the adults) so camping in our backyard was a way to still have fun without the cost. Both of our husbands were at a guy thing this weekend, anyway, so it worked out perfectly! (Or so I thought...)

The tent. I love our tent. It is huge and fairly easy to set up. Or, it was, until I realized that 3 of the poles are no longer connected. This caused a slight delay but I remedied the problem with duct tape, a paper clip and a rubber band. (Why, yes! I WAS a girl scout.)

The sky. Holy bat balls! It was DAAAARK and stormy looking! I scrambled around to clean the house up just in case we ended up camping on the floor...

The pizza. Patrick meant well, but bought two very teeeeeeny pizzas! Jill and I freaked out that there wouldn't be enough for our obviously ravenous children, so she ordered some Chinese food at the last minute. This proved to be unnecessary when our kids each ate 2 pieces and then claimed to be full, "Can we have s'mores yet?" We now have an entire pizza and a crapload of Chinese food left over...

The fire wood. Remember that day of hormone-induced tree chopping I talked about? My darling husband thought that just stacking the firewood on TOP of the fire pit would work out just fine. He didn't think about the thorns and scratchy branches that would slice my hands and arms as I tried to clear this drying heap of wood AWAY from the fire pit. I can't just throw a match into a pile of wood and hope it catches fire (or that it doesn't go up in flames, taking my eyebrows with it!). As the storm clouds drifted away and the lightning bugs began their mating calls, my sister and I started the fire.

Heh. "Started the Fire." That's a RIOT. Because THAT wood? Was NOT BURNING. We were really good at lighting the paper from the recycle bin. Yeah. We can burn paper like there's NO tomorrow. But lighting green wood, even though each branch is covered in crispy brown leaves? Apparently not.

It became a comedy of errors. As a branch would light, we'd run out of small twigs to feed it, or the lighter would go out, and the branch would simply fizzle out in front of us. Hot coals (of burnt paper) lay beneath our lovely pile of wood. No flames.

"When can we roast marshmallows?!? Can't we just do them in the microwave?"

"NO! It's the principle. We WILL have a fire. We WILL."

We sure were determined....

My sister finally gave up when the sky was pitch black. She headed inside to make some s'mores over the stovetop while I remained vigilant at the fire pit. I couldn't have our kids telling our husbands that we couldn't light a simple fire on our own!! JUST as I got a few small branches good and flaming, with the larger branches beginning to smolder, I heard the famous words that have become a tradition which accompanies any time that Patrick leaves town:

"Tracey!! Your toilet is overflowing! There's water all down the hall!!"

Yes. Yet AGAIN I got to clean up nasty toilet water from my hallway. (And basement! Don't forget that it likes to flow straight down into my basement!)

Lots of fun. I abandoned the now BURNING FIRE in my backyard to control the flood in my house.

Ok. The poopy water got cleaned up. Everyone washed their hands and we headed outside to make our freaking s'mores.

Notice the pitiful embers we are "roasting" the marshmallows over? Also, notice the blackened branch that never caught fire. We are AWESOME at this...I'd have more pictures, but all of my batteries decided to DIE at this moment. Fitting. (Jill and I grabbed our Mike's Raspberry Lemonades. We'd earned them.)

Got the kids good and sugared up, managed to brush 2 or 3 kids' mouths (out of 5? That's not a bad %) and they eagerly dashed into the tent for their "camping adventure."

Jabber. Giggle. Complain. Sing. BE QUIET!

Ahhhh....

Our liquor devoured, we climbed into our sleeping bags to help settle them down.

Giggle. Wiggle. Poke.

"Mooommmeeee, they won't stop talking!"

Shush. Wiggle. Threaten.

Quiet....

HELICOPTER!

FIREWORKS!

Crying girls!

"Are you freaking kidding me? Tracey, WHERE DO YOU LIVE?"

shhhhh......

Giggle. Yawn. Wiggle....

Quiet....

FIREWORKS!! LOUD MUSIC!! MOTORCYCLE PARADE!! AIRPLANE HEADED TO MIDWAY!!


AHHHHHHH!!!!!

Simple ideas are never simple. And now? Now I get to restack unburnt brush, dismantle a tent, scrub a floor and wash about 20 sopping wet towels.

Worth it?

You bet.

WHAT did you just say??

From the family room where a WWF smackdown via the Xbox is happening:

"Oh no you DI'NNTTT!" Seriously? And then,

"Boooyah! Holla!"

Where are these kids getting this ghetto talk?!?

~~~

From the backyard as my 3 year old and her buddy sword battle each other:

"Tushy, Pussycat!" (Touche' pussycat. Remember that Tom & Jerry cartoon?)

~~~

From a floating, goggled 5 year old in the pool, as he studied me and Corinne:

"Wow! Your heads are the same shape!" I don't think he meant it as a compliment.

Crybaby

Why the tears as I sit on my kitchen floor? How does the smell of bleach leave me gasping for breath with snot running down my face? What exactly AM I doing?

Washing. Baby. Gear.

Washing and fixing and organizing the bulky baby gear. Collecting from my basement and garage all of the paraphernalia that accompanies a young child. Primping and preparing it for sale on Craigslist.

How can I bawl at the fact that we are done having children? I was PAST THIS. I will be the first to admit that the thought of raising a 4th child through his or her teen & pre-teen years isn't all that appealing. Especially as I am only at the cusp of this pre-teen stuff. Adding another 4 years to the grand total does cause me to shudder a tad. So, I obviously don't yearn for another child. Do I really yearn for another baby?

Or do I simply yearn for the hopes and expectations that accompany pregnancy, infancy and the toddler years? Having young children is all-encompassing. They are your WORLD and that is OK! You are allowed to be distracted and incomplete when you are a mother to a baby. After all, your brain is now functioning for 2! As that baby matures, though, the need for supervision and utter involvement decreases. You find yourself with emptier hands and a looser schedule. Eagerly watching your children race away, your first thoughts will be along the lines of "Think of all of the time I have! Time for myself! Time for all of the bits of ME that I abandoned in order to care for young children. Time for My dreams and My adventures to pick up where they left off!!"

You know what? All of that TIME can be freaking SCARY.

Who the hell AM I, anyway?

Releasing this physical connection to this stage in my life leaves me conflicted and confused. Each wheel I scrubbed for someone else's baby ripped my heart out. If I am not a parent to a young child or baby, what AM I? A parent to 2 (almost 3) SCHOOL AGED children?!? I am truly that old? Old enough to not be the youngest at a parents' meeting? Old enough to not have people double take on the age I am? Old enough that I should have some better handle on being an adult? Yes. Definitely old enough for THAT...

Perhaps my yearning is not the desire to hold a baby of my own. Perhaps my yearning is to delay my own aging. If I am pregnant or caring for a baby, I MUST be youthful! Right? Childhood would remain in my household that much longer. Santa will continue to visit and bubbles and chalk can still be a staple in our Easter baskets.

If I continue to have babies, perhaps I could hold off aging indefinitely....

A little love letter...

I stare at my daughter in utter amazement that I had some part in creating such a remarkable child. I cannot claim to have much responsibility for the athletic, courageous, determined girl she is, but that doesn't alter the phenomenal pride that courses through me every time she scales the monkey bars or enchants a room full of strangers with a song and a dance. Surely there must be some part of me in her! If such physical and spiritual beauty exists within her, it must be possible that I possess a similar beauty!

And so I continue to stare into her brown eyes, memorizing the sparkles of mischief and joy. I marvel at her ability to be a princess covered in mud. I pray that the wonder and beauty she sees in the world only expands as her life's course continues...Did you know that if left to her own devices, she can transform herself into a tiger? FYI, if it's not body paint, it doesn't wash off QUITE so easily...
Giving her Papa a heart attack one monkey bar at a time...
Fairly clean in this shot, actually...

Don't you just want to eat this kid up?

What happened, indeed....

"What Happened To the Girl I Married?" is the choice for July's SVM book club. I was truly excited about this book as the basic outline was said to chronicle one man's journey into becoming the stay at home parent for a year and finding out exactly where his wife had "disappeared" to. The description definitely fits, as the book is about the author's own discoveries regarding the impact that being an at-home parent can have on one's psyche.

Sadly, I was very disappointed with the overall presentation and body of the book. I could appreciate and feel the love he has for his wife, and could understand why she would adore such a piece of work. But while reading the book, I was forever comparing it to a high school English paper. A paper where the teacher said Michael had to use "X" amount of words and pages before he passed it in, so the same 3 topics were rephrased over and over again... There was never any true "guts" to this piece! Mr. Miller definitely told us, repeatedly, that he now understood what a completely selfish boor he used to be. He described all of his previous faults and how those faults caused his wife's identity to "fragment". But the WAYS he came to these miraculous break throughs and "a-ha" moments? The stories (I'm sure there are DOZENS!) that resulted from his attempts to keep the house running? Those were absent. Non-existent. NEVER mentioned! Another missing element to giving this book life? Explaining what his wife was doing that entire year that he was home!! Where was she? Was she rediscovering herself at a job or college course? At the mall? The SPA?!? (Seriously! I want to know. I NEED to know. I kept searching for this tidbit in the book, and if I missed it? I'll retract this section of the paragraph because IT DROVE ME CRAZY!)

I am actually quite surprised to see this book published in the form that it is in. With some decluttering of the repeats and some additions of personal experiences, this book would have made me smile and suggest it to others. Instead, I am left feeling cheated that the editors allowed this obviously heartfelt story (and I felt the love. I FELT how much he adored his wife and how lucky he feels to have changed before he lost her!) to go to print in what I consider to be a first draft stage. (I won't even go on about the conniptions I had regarding improper grammar, punctuation and the incorrect use of words such as "their" and "shear" instead of "sheer"...)

I am not a book author. I write on blogs. I write quickly and can make mistakes, on occasion. However, if I were to write a book, you can be damn sure that I would have had 20 people review the book for not only small errors but for the honest truth about turning a long but sweet love letter into a book you cannot put down. At only 129 pages, I had to pick it up continuously for I was always putting it down.

Weekend review

What'd we do this weekend? Aside from cutting down 10 or 15 volunteer trees from our very suburban neighborhood (where volunteer trees are the only type of volunteers that aren't welcome)? Don't give a pre-menstrual woman a pair of branch cutters. I'm just sayin...

Well, we headed into Chicago to watch Aladdin at Navy Pier! Aladdin was 75 minutes long with no intermission (PERFECT for Corinne who was getting antsy towards the end). They did a beautiful job of making the play feel like the movie, including a flying carpet, favorite songs, and even camels. (You have to see the camels. They are worth the price of the ticket!)

One of my favorite parts of the play were the liberties they took with a few of the lines. The play is in the Chicago SHAKESPEARE theater, so there were several one-liners from various Shakespearean plays thrown in, but with a twist; "Aladdin, Aladdin. Wherefore art thou Aladdin?" I love Shakespeare (though I'm not an EXPERT, I just know several of his works) and took a class devoted to him in college (at a community college, so it was TOP NOTCH learning, folks). Those lines had me snorting on my $2 M&M's.

(I also know for a fact that I saw at least ONE other blogger there, and possibly another. I'll let you know once they confirm with me. It must be a sign of popularity when you are getting SPOTTED at places by people you don't "really" know, you know?)

Aladdin was definitely well done and we were thrilled to be able to attend for free. If not for free, then the price was a tad high, in my opinion. Then again, we're broke, suburban folks. For a city family or family who takes their kids to the full-price movies regularly? Then this was totally affordable. (And don't forget to get your parking ticket validated by the theater box office! You get 40% off of parking at Navy Pier if you are a theater attendee!) Plus, the draw to live entertainment is always more exciting.

We strolled Navy Pier for a bit, had a picnic lunch on a bench, watched the pirate ship (really! The Tall Ship Windy is a pirate ship with masts and pirates and EVERYthing! I think I was more excited than the kids!) and looked at the boats through the telescopes.All in all, a gorgeous day with lovely memories. The patriotic dress that everyone loves. Corinne and some random lady twirled together on the pier with their beautiful dresses spinning straight out. After all, the entire value of a dress can be measured with how far out it spins...

We also found a wedding ring that we forgot to turn into lost and found (I swear we were planning on turning it in, but the office we were directed to was at the front of the pier and we forgot about it after eating and walking and a few "chances to discipline"). So, if you lost a men's wedding ring at Navy Pier and can describe it, email me..

Strangled by an invisible umbilical cord...

Why is it that when I am longing for their love and attention, they are in the midst of an independence spurt? They do not crave my affections or company, but want only to do their "own thing" for a while...

Why is it that when they are incredibly needy and in the midst of regressing a bit, I cannot retreat far enough away? Their invisible umbilical cords seem to coil and tighten about my neck. Slowing my air and freedom to the point that I must physically push away from the sticky little hands which grope for me...

Some Saturday reading for you...

Ever read Root & Sprout? I sure as heck hope so, as some of my best work is on that site! Head on over and see...

We're headed to the Aladdin show at Navy Pier on Sunday. Any of you Chicagoans who are interested, remember to use the code MOMMY for $5 off your tickets. Just go to chicagoshakes.com to buy them today!

Brew, Coffee. BREW!

Rather than bore you with my daily tedium (again) I thought I'd just post a couple of cute pics, grab a cup of coffee, and hope to keep my pre-menstrual brain from going to "that place."

You're welcome.


We can always use a little superhero in our lives. Though I'd prefer one that knew to avoid blinds' cords...

Awwwwww. "There is no charge for our awesomeness. Or attractiveness."
Yay America! Now go whack our nation's colors with a steeeeck....
Little rugrat wouldn't hold still for a picture. This was after 5 or 6 shots of the top of his head. I had to tickle him to make him hold still long enough for the flash...

Ooooh! Aaaahhh!! This picture makes me remember last year's picture.... Man, they grow fast!

FYI, winners for my giveaways are on my review site. Check it out!