No radio, no a/c, construction traffic and a 4 year old. Do the math.

"Do we have an attic?"

"Why do you ask?" (picturing her climbing into the crawl area in the boys' closet. I've managed to hide that little storage spot from them and intend to keep it that way.)

"I just want to know!"

I hesitate...

"In my closet, way up high, yes."

"Why is it up high? Does it have anything in it? Can I see inside it?"

"Because they made it that way. It's empty. And no."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not for you."

"But why?"

"Because I SAID so. Now let me drive."

....

"Is the devil for real?"

"What do you think?"

"Billy* says the devil's for real and he will GET you if you are bad."

"Get you? Well, Billy's family believes in the devil and the Bible. Everybody's different. You are allowed to believe whatever you want. What do you believe?"

"I don't think the devil's real."

"Fabulous. Let me drive."

......

"Why don't we store anything in our attic?"

"Aaarrrggggh!! Because it's up high and it gets too hot and I don't want to mess around with it. I am a basement person. I store in the basement, not the attic."

"Why does it get hot?"

"Because the insulation and circulation are all screwy up there and if you ever DO go up there without an adult you could get stuck and suffocate and DIE. Now LET ME DRIVE!"

.....

"Did you know that if you put a plastic bag over your head, you can die? Even little kids, Momma. If a little kid puts a bag over her head, she will DIE. Did you know that, hmmm?"

"Holy hell, child. PLEASE be silent, for just a few minutes, please?!?"

.....

"Isn't hell where the devil lives, Mommy? In hell? So, is he real after all? And why are you a basement person? Don't you like the summertime? I like the summertime. You can go swimming in the summertime and eat popsicles outside. Did you know...."


I really need to get another radio in my van.

*not his real name

Consider Cleveland...part 2

Part 1 is here...
There weren't many things that I didn't like on our whiplash tour of Cleveland. But I do regret that while we visited the historical West Side Market to stroll through their aisles of traditions and selections, we had just eaten breakfast and weren't able to bring anything that would spoil on the bus! I mean, the cakes and pastries looked divine! And don't even get me STARTED on the cheeses and sausages that had to be left behind their glass cases...

I sullenly climbed back on our bus after having sampled only a few free white cherries and delicious canteloupe. We were headed to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame and I had built it up in my head as some place I absolutely couldn't wait to visit. But to be honest, I was a bit worried that I had elevated it up too high...

Thankfully, the museum didn't disappoint! The layout and feeling of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is so incredible. And don't get it wrong; it's a MUSEUM, not some kitschy building with silly posters and blaring music. The walls and air around you are filled with invaluable artifacts from the beginnings of Rock, Jazz, Blues and other influences that have brought us to the artists of today. No era or style is left out and each is explored and examined with the respect that is due to what has been one of the most historically defining centuries of all time. I now know exactly where I want to take Patrick when we go back to Cleveland! (I'm planning on a birthday surprise weekend. It's ok - he rarely reads this site.*) I fully intend on spending the entire day there, reading every plaque, watching all of the videos and shows (over 5 hours throughout the museum!) and browsing through their song banks (thousands of songs from every artist you could ever imagine). I absolutely, 1000% recommend visiting The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. And I cannot WAIT to investigate their online and on-site educational programs for children which incorporate Rock music into a variety of educational topics. You don't have to tell me more than once that children learn best when they have more than one type of media to utilize! Look for more on Rock music as education on my homeschooling blog this year.MY generation! Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails, Alice in Chains, Peter Gabriel, Counting Crows, Black Crowes... My glee was palpable through each timeline exhibit. I cannot fully convey the magnitude of information that is available...
(Cameras are not allowed in the museum except where noted or for the press. Many of the artifacts are on loan or are sensitive to light. Please remember to leave your cameras in the car or to check them before entering the exhibits!)

I was really bummed to leave without investigating more in depth, but, without a doubt, I'll be back soon. Since I knew what the next stop was on our trip, I didn't mind not being able to scour through Janis Joplin's exhibit just then...

Can you believe it?!? Ralphie's house, guys. RALPHIE'S HOUSE. I? Was there. I? Met this guy...
... who used to carry his blankie around the set and had quite the difficulty putting his arms down. Ian Petrella, aka "Randy" from A Christmas Story walked in just as Barb and I were posing and shrieking. I'm not a celebrity freak, but it was a bit of a thrill to put a real face to the movie image. Of course, I'm sure he was blown away by Barb and me. After all, nothing says "maturity" like mock-licking a leg-lamp... ...or being shocked at where Schwartz's mom thinks my son learned to say "Fudge"."Probably from his Father." NEVER!
Obviously, I have no shame. Folks, we were absolute nerds. We giggled and shouted and acted like right old fools. But this movie and the house are ICONIC. It's a media connection that everyone can relate to because everyone has seen it repeatedly. And everyone LOVES it! A Christmas Story House is definitely worth the $8 for admission. Don't forget to check out the museum and gift shop across the street. My kids got their very own Little Orphan Annie Decoder rings.

One would think that after all of that, we would have come to the end of the tour. One would be mistaken to assume that for we were only halfway through our second day! I know what you're thinking,

"Well? What did you do? Where did you go? Why didn't you invite ME? The waiting is agony! Adoring your blog from my computer screen is something I do every day but I am so in awe of you that I can't bring myself to comment!**"

I'm sorry, my friends. Overwhelming adoration or not, I think that a Neverending Post just won't be as cool as a Neverending Story. But here's a teaser for Part 3...

"Que es esto?"

*I'm sure that I have now guaranteed that Patrick will read my blog....

**That may be a slight exaggeration. The author claims no responsibility for a small distortion of how much you adore her as she has had only one cup of coffee and needs to get the kids up and dressed for a family reunion/birthday party in the pouring rain... You're jealous; admit it.

Consider Cleveland... part 1

Ok. So the economy's kind of icky and most of us are a little less affluent than we were a year or two ago. We can agree on this, no? My kids would love to go on a plane ride to Florida or Hawaii, but there isn't a chance in the world that we can afford that! However, life is about living and living includes experiences and experiences can be found closer to home than we realize.

I was honored to be invited by the cvb of Cleveland, Ohio to participate in a promotional tour of their city. "Positively Cleveland" managed to pack in a week's worth of activities in just 3 days and though my feet are revolting against those 3 days of shoes on pavement, my mind is simply overwhelmed. My travel-mate for the week was Barb, aka Weaselmama. You might remember her from my trip to Galena, IL. We managed to ride in a car for 3 hours and all weekend on that trip, so I knew we could travel together without killing each other (always a good feature in a friend). When the words "Cedar Point" came up, I knew she was the perfect choice. I mean, if I'm going to the "roller-coaster capital of the world", I want someone who actually likes to ride roller coasters.

And ride them, we did. Amazingly enough, no one threw up as we were hustled from one thrilling heart-stopper to the next for 5 hours straight. The best ride, in my opinion: The Millennium Force (though the Maverick was a close second with it's never-ending twists and dips). The Millennium Force actually had me feeling light-headed on its first drop. Which meant that I simply had to convince our group to ride it again, just before we left. Let me tell you, it didn't require any arm-twisting to make that wish come true!

I sleepily stumbled into my hotel room that the Crowne Plaza Cleveland City Centre provided for us all. Their extra little touches (chocolates on the bed beside a personalized letter reminding me of the ammenities they provided)were definitely noted prior to passing out from exhaustion, but it wasn't until the next morning as I was drinking my gourmet cup of coffee that I managed to peer through the curtains and be amazed at the views before me...Stunning. This shot doesn't even begin to do it justice. The proximity of the hotel is such that we were able to walk to the arena, the downtown square, Lake Erie and the East Fourth Street district. I was so enthralled by the quiet beauty of the Cleveland morning that I got myself up and moving an hour early just to sit on the bench beside the street and watch the city come to life. Had I known how busy we would be that day, I might have stayed in bed a tad longer...


Part 2 will follow soon!

If you could see the carnage I came home to, you wouldn't judge a repost...

Sunday, August 02, 2009

"My Sink is dirty" or "Why FlyLady is on Crack"

FlyLady. Ever hear of that website? For the uninformed, it's a site dedicated to helping you not only clean your house but KEEP it organized. It's all about changing the way you live, becoming one with your chores, all while completely sober. Like a cult. With dishrags.

I was intrigued. I mean, I would LOVE for my home to be clean(ish)! Maybe this FlyLady gal could convince me that I don't despise laundry. Perhaps this site would redirect the urine stream of the males in this household to actually go INTO the toilet, so I wouldn't have to scrub it off the cracks and crevices behind it! (Which, I have to ask; WHAT THE HELL? Who designed toilets? A MAN. That's who. A man who never has to scrape dried pee from tiny nooks and crannies. If a woman had designed the toilet, it would be streamlined and straight. No nesting grounds for bodily fluids to congregate. MEN! Gah...)

FlyLady: Getting Started.

Go Shine Your Sink. Hmmmm. The premise behind a clean sink is that if you have at least ONE THING clean in the morning, you won't feel quite as depressed and ready to slit your wrists when surveying the towering pile of dishes awaiting scrubbing. I actually see the validity in this point. I mean, I DID clean the sink and then the counters and Hey! Before I knew it, the kitchen was pretty damn clean! Holy Shit. I LOVE FLY LADY. I am an instant convert! Give me that Kool-Aid now!!!

I was so hyped, I had to jump to Day 2. This lady was AWE.SOME. What genius idea would she have next?!?

Get Dressed to Lace Up Shoes. Ok. I was really confused. Southern ladies, is this common language?? "Lace up shoes?" When I read that she wanted me to GET DRESSED as in clean and make-up with shoes and hair and, and... Well. I actually laughed at Miss Fly. Surely she wasn't talking to ME!?!? Seriously? I forgave her for this little discrepancy as I knew she didn't really "know" me. She didn't realize that I don't have the DESIRE to get "dressed up" every day. And that if I could really find the TIME to get dressed and made-up, then I damn well wouldn't be scrubbing my kitchen SINK!

There must be a good point coming up. Right? I skipped ahead through the remaining 30 days to see what she had in store for me. (Best line in the entire site: "Nothing says I love you like clean underwear." Actually, LOTS of things say I LOVE YOU more than clean underwear. Such as a big bottle of wine and a babysitter. Well, the babysitter wouldn't be sharing the bottle of wine with me. But you get the picture. This conversation doesn't really fit in right here, but it was too awesome to let it lie on the blog edit floor. As if I really have an editing floor. Could you imagine if I did, though? The little bits and pieces of blogs that never made it, scattered amidst the granola bar wrappers and unpaid bills... Hey, it's MY blog, damnit. I'll digress as long as I want to.)

Days 3-31 contain such genius ideas as "putting paper in a binder" to make a journal of cleaning ideas, posting sticky notes all over my already cluttered house and allowing myself 15 minutes a day to do whatever I want.

Again I laughed. Surely she jests? What the hell does FlyLady think I am doing on the freaking internet??? This is my time! I find time for myself!! That is not the problem. The problem is HOW DO I MAKE THIS MESS GO AWAY?? How do I KEEP it away?

And how can I accomplish this feat without ever doing any cleaning myself?? She continues on to say that this will make my life easier if only I read through their 15-20 EMAILS A DAY. As though I don't have enough junk mail each day to scan, she wants to add MORE chores to my list?!? And expect me to scrub my freaking sink, too???

Honestly. Within an hour I had crushed on FlyLady harder than I crushed on Mikey in the 7th grade (he was so cute!) and broken up with her faster than the guy who hid the whole "I sell cocaine but it's not a big deal, right?" in high school.

And so I am back to living in a cluttered, messy home. The papers are strangling my desk. There are Cheerios crushed into the carpet. My bathrooms were cleaned 2 days ago, but are showing signs of pee on the floor by now. And my sink? My sink is dirty. And I am ok with that.

~~~

Also, do you know that The Chicago Moms is up and running? Check out my first post for them. You will be impressed beyond belief with my parenting abilities...

Na na na na na na na na BATMAN!

Now that we can totally utilize the whole instant viewing option on Netflix, we decided to browse through the family movies that were available. Patrick and I wanted to watch something different (something, ANYthing, different!) so when Batman Returns popped up, we happily pressed play.

The questions were relentless:

"Who's that guy? Batman?!? Why does he look different? Michael Keaton? Who's that?"

And on and on. They liked the movie, though. I had forgotten how much better the Michael Keaton Batman movies were. I mean, they're still dark and action-packed but the entire feeling of the movie is reminiscent of the comic books. The characters don't take themselves too seriously and the villains are just that: VILLAINS. Complete with the evil laughs and hand-rubbing. The heroes are obvious and, well, heroic. Christian Bale's Batman is just too... grumpy.

I digress.

(The point is just around the corner. Bear with me.)

Soooo, Michelle Pfieffer stumbles into her apartment. She's not Catwoman yet, so she's a bit bumbling and is wearing some unfortunate 1992 glasses. She presses a button on a little black box on a table and it starts talking to her, and my kids say....

"What's that?"

I paused. I blinked. My face broke into a horrified smile and Patrick and I stared across the room as our ages were confirmed by these two small words.

For when your kids have NO CLUE as to what an answering machine is and you remember when they were INVENTED? You are officially middle-aged.

Many memories were made...

Take me out to the ball game...

Take me out to the crowds.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
(or popcorn and cotton candy...)
I don't care if I ever go back!

For it's root, root, root for the Cubbies,

If they don't win it's a shame!
(it was a shame. They lost despite many chances at winning before the 12th inning when we finally left to beat traffic...)

For it's One! Two! Three strikes you're out at the ole, ball game!

Thank you so much to Chevrolet for getting us great tickets to not only the Chevy sponsored Cubs game but also the pre-game baseball clinic!! My little Cubs fan had an AMAZING time. Getting to play on Wrigley Field with real ball players and coaches was a once in a lifetime treat for Evan.

This is all I have energy to write...

Nothing like having to yell at your kids in the library.

After we left our homeschool group 2 hours EARLY because they were behaving less than desirably (i.e. stomping around like elephants and throwing markers), we stopped by the library to grab a few books that Justin has wanted to read again. Despite their behavior, we dashed in the uber-quiet and extremely overcrowded library because I am a very cool mom who was willing to overlook their discrepancies.

4 minutes into our quick stop and my blood pressure was off the charts,

"Stop running! Don't hide the books from him! Why won't you come here?!?! Stop CRYING! You have to hold the 3rd bag because I only have 2 hands!! Get back here NOOOOWWWW!!! You are EMBARRASSING me!!!"

It's 12:20 and I already need something stiffer than this gas station cappuccino....

~~~~

I'm thrilled that Patrick has normal hours and all, but the realization that I now have no excuse to avoid cooking dinner has hit and I am less than amused. Especially since my fridge and freezer are still echoing after the whole unintentional defrosting incident... I'm thinking of breakfast for dinner tonight!

~~~~

It's 1:15. It took me an hour to write those 2 paragraphs. I'll give you 3 guesses as to why...

Our first family vacation in WAY too long...

I honestly cannot think of a better way to celebrate Pat's new job than to camp with my sister and her family for a long weekend... We tried a spot that is new to my family but one that we will most DEFINITELY become frequent visitors of: The Warren Dunes State Park in Michigan.

Oh. My. God. GORGEOUS....
That dune right there is HUGE. Ever try climbing a towering pile of sand? Ever wonder at how hard it is to climb something that has no grip or stability to it? I never considered how impossible it must be to survive in the Sahara Desert until I had to summit one measly sand dune on a somewhat warmish summer night in Michigan. If I should ever become stranded in the Sahara, I have no doubts as to the certainty of my demise...Sand angels at the top... She RAN up that dune. Must be nice to be 4 and indestructible...This guy also RAN up the dune only to run halfway down so that he could climb it AGAIN beside his brother and give moral support. And then? Then he climbed the trees at the top of the hill before running DOWN the damn dune. All while I literally crawled up the pile of sand while moaning and groaning and repeatedly inquiring exactly WHY it was that we were climbing the damn dune?!?Ah, yes. The view. Pretty damn spectacular despite the fact that my camera can't convey it properly... My brother-in-law was the first atop it. He is in waaaaaay better shape than I am!FINALLY! Finally something I can do well! Digging in the sand and jumping the waves is my forte! We decided that the beach at Warren Dunes is akin to that of Hawaii but without the salt water or man-eating sharks. I can honestly say that I enjoyed this beach just as much as the ones in Kauai and Florida (and that's saying a LOT).

Sadly, this is how most of the pictures of Justin from that weekend were; His hair in his face, covering a huge smile. At least he was happy!The goggle gang. All of the boys and my niece spent hours looking for fossils in the rocks on the edge of the beach. The rest of the lake has very fine, very soft sand underneath the waves. The edge where the waves break has rocky deposits and they are chock full of tiny fossils and varieties of rocks that our geology freaks went crazy over.
A little too much sun and sand. We had to hurry his butt into the a/c of my sister's van after 5 hours in the blistering sun and pounding waves. Thankfully, he was better after he cooled off...
...apparently, we all got a LOT of sun. (you should see the backs of my thighs*... oy.) I look very wrinkly in this one. Hmmm... I'm just glad I'm IN a picture, though it's prudent to note that I am the one holding the camera for this shot.
Aha! A face behind the hair! A sunburned, smiling, happy face.

Warren Dunes in Michigan has my 100% nod of approval for a fabulous family vacation spot. The campgrounds were clean and affordable. We stayed in the rustic section which (I believe) is only available on a walk-in basis but they do have reservable sites. (However, I will say that I wasn't as thrilled with the electric sites as they were very close together and shallow.) Our rustic sites were beautifully shaded and only a quick trip to the beach or the bath houses. ALSO! If you DO happen to go, check out their weekly activities at the park ranger's station. We went to an awesome astronomy class on the beach on Friday night, my sister and her kids went on a guided fossil hunt, and there are tons of wineries and blueberry fields and other activities available.
~~

*So, this 60ish lady with a great tan and a cool hairdo stops me in the bathroom at the beach on our second day there. With a heavy, HEAVY German accent she tells me that I should pee on myself.

"Excuse me?" I stammered. Surely she must be having a problem with her choice of English words.

"You should save you, ah, you urine. You know after you..." she points to the bathroom stalls.

"Yes. My urine. I get that, but... what again?"

"Take ze urine wit you hand and, ah..." she pats all over herself and proceeds to mime the sprinkling of pee from her crotch to her thighs and face. "It vill help, yes?"

"Um. Ok! I'm willing to try anything once!** Thanks for the advice." I said and she shrugged and said,

"You vill zank me later! I promise!"
~~

** Not ANYthing. But a lot of things. Most of which I probably won't mention here because HELLO?!? Mommy. Blog. Right? But rest assured, I can be a wild child. Wink, wink. ***

~~

*** Sigh... Not really. I don't get out much. Wish that I did, but it's a sad fact that I am not the party animal I would like to claim to be.

I always feel like, somebody's watching me...

Ever get the feeling that someone's watching you? I was lounging by the side of the pool, soaking up the sun and counting kid heads: 1,2,3,4 (we had a spare that day). 1,2,3,4. "Yes! I saw that jump. It was amazing. Yes! I see you holding your breath for longer than ever-ever-ever. That was also amazing. (1,2,3,4, 1,2,3,4...)" I felt that... that feeling that you feel when you know someone is noticing you. You know; that feeling.

I began to surreptitiously scan the possible voyeurs as I continued to count 4 bobbing heads.

Hmmmm.... There's a mom from down the street. Nod and wave but don't act too interested because this mystery must be solved and it surely can't be her that is noticing me! Moving along the opposite pool wall for suspects...

Aha! A dude. A dude with sunglasses. A dude with sunglasses SMILING in my general direction! Heh heh. I totally rock. Me in my new bathing suit and sunglasses that sit slightly askew upon my face ever since Corinne stepped on them. You sexy 34 year old mama, you! Look! He can hardly stop smiling at me! Doesn't he notice that I have 3 kids (and a spare) to care for? (oh yeah: 1,2,3....4! Still 4. Whew.) Apparently my hotness is such that it supersedes the downer that a gaggle of children can impose. You smokin hot girl! You... Wait.

Damnit. His kid. He's smiling at his kid in the water. Which would explain his tendency to give a goofy thumbs-up. Ugh...

Still.

SOMEone is looking at me! WHO?!? Who can it beeeee?!?!?

(1,2,3,4)

Turning head to the left, I come face to face with a sopping wet and bedraggled 4 year old. He's staring. At me. At my CHEST, to be more specific. At my almost B-cup, barely covered bathing suited chest.

Ahem.

I shift uncomfortably against the pool wall only to have him deliberately move around in front of me again. And he's still staring at my chest.

Well, Hey! At least a little kid thinks I'm hot, right? I mean, it's something! SOMEone of the male gender is noticing me at the pool! Some little boy is adoring me and probably envisioning me as a princess in a tower or someone to be rescued. I will most definitely reside in his mind and live on in his fantasies as he matures as someone he might fall desperately in love with. I could be making a huge impression on this kid! Be alert! Be kind!

"Excuse me?" he lisps.

"Yes, sweetie?" I gently smile back.

"I weeelly, weeelly wike your necklace! It's soooo pwetty!!"

"....."

"Um...Thanks. Thanks kid. I, uh, I like your Super Mario shorts. They're... cool."


Sigh.

1,2,3,4...


Truth be told? It is a cool necklace.

This is why I don't do Vegas...

"Shhhh! Don't bother me! I'm online and waiting for to see if I win this item on Ebay!"

"But I want to check insert name of random online game that my kid plays but I really don't know what it is because I am a slacker-mom who skips happily from the room when my kids are online and not bugging me! I want to see how to get to level blah-blah-blah!!"

"Silence! I kill you! I mean it! I want to be sure I win this. There are 14 minutes left and this other guy really wants it! Goway!"

"Oh! You're going to win something? What is it?!? Is it for me?"

"It's schoolbooks and yes they're for you and I WANT TO WIN so GIT!GIT!GIT!"

He slumped out of the room and I continued to frantically update my browser every 30 seconds, just waiting to see that villainous stranger even attempt to take the right to purchase The Story of the World Volume 3 with activity book INCLUDED. Just TRY, mister....

Shoot. Up another 3 bucks. I can TOTALLY swing that and it's still a great deal! No problem.

But, hmmm. Maybe I should up it a little further? Like, another 6 or so, that way he won't have a CHANCE of winning! Ha HA! I know! I'll up it SEVEN dollars and ONE CENT so that they will have even LESS of a chance of figuring out my sneaky method of getting exactly what I want!

I SHALL PREVAIL and WIN!!

Tick. Tock.

(Seriously - That was the LONGEST 14 minutes of my LIFE.* But Mr. a*****h lost and I WON!)

I WON! I WON!

And now?!? After all that stress and worry?!? After the victory dance I executed around my living room?

I get to overpay for history books...


I am so talented at this Ebay gig.



*Besides childbirth. Because that wasn't so much fun, to be honest.**

**Though I definitely enjoyed the power behind birthing babies. I've a bit of a martyr complex, obviously.

The million dollar question

"So, are you guys still going to homeschool now that Patrick's hours are daytime again?"

Let's see, he hasn't even started his new job yet and I've been asked that question at least 2,364 times. It's usually asked by those who thought I was off my rocker to begin with, and it's generally prefaced with a little laugh because my children were presently behaving like the little cavemen that they are.

For the record, for EVERYone: No. We are not stopping homeschooling. If anything, this new job will make it easier for us because we can purchase different curriculum and try out other enrichment classes without worrying about every little penny quite so much.

Also: I KNOW my kids can be maniacs! I know that they may have a hard time sitting still to listen or obeying me or absorbing all of the material that is presented to them. Guess what? The same is true in traditional school rooms! How often do we hear about kids who are shuffled through the system? How often do you hear a kid spout off random bits of information from his history lessons just because someone wanted proof that his/her schooling was going well? It's not a disputed fact that public school doesn't always work well for 100% of the kids in the United States!

"What about Corinne? Won't she be going to preschool? Won't she be sad that she's missing out?"

If Corinne (or any of our kids) were sad at home and begging to return to public school, do you really think we'd force them to be homeschooled? But the benefits that they would miss and the things they would be excluded from might cause several bouts of tears. My family will be at the museums and parks when we need a break from regular scheduling. We will be at a weekly group meeting where we will work on creative writing and studying the Middle Ages. We will be attending a weekly Forensics science class where I will be the assistant and they will have hands-on experiences. There will be ballet or tap for Corinne where I will have to drag the boys along (they don't particularly like that activity. Maybe they'd prefer p.s. on that day!). There will be boy scouts and cub scouts and archery class and soccer and hopefully a theater class or two.

We'll be just fine homeschooling, thanks. I've been collecting curriculum and supplies all summer and spend a lot of time watching my ebay bids for gently used books. We have a fabulous group of fellow homeschoolers upon which to bounce ideas off of and commiserate with. We have plans and plans and plans for the year and we'll be just fine.

The mystery is revealed!

Reading bedtime stories to his kids.

Treating his kids to an ice cream cone.

Soccer practices.

Christmas parties.

Prime Time TV.

Cub Scout meetings.

Boy Scout meetings.

Scout campouts.

Being able to help out around the house.*

Birthday parties.

Dinner with his family every night of the week!

Sleeping beside his wife.

Date nights!

Energy to enjoy the weekends.



No longer will Patrick have to miss out on any of the above. Our family will finally be able to exist together as a whole again! And with money to not only stay afloat, but to actually pay off the debts we so desperately want to erase! And maybe (just maybe) a possible vacation or two!!

We are DONE with the night shift. Done.Done.Done. We are DONE with the job that we were so grateful for but that didn't allow for us to exist much beyond basic survival. Patrick just announced his acceptance of a dream job that he is beyond thrilled to begin and I am still floating on the idea that we will actually be able to claw our way up and out of the hole we've been in for the past 2 years!!

(would you believe that he was able to go all day long at Great America after working from 10 pm the night before? Night shift SUCKS. I pray that we can wash our hands of this experience and never have to go through it again.)

I am so proud of you, honey. I hope the new job is just as exciting as you dream it to be!

* That may not be a selling point for Pat, but I'm so, so excited to think that I will have a conscious partner from Sunday-Thursday again!

Beer at 10 am on a Sunday...

Fate, she is a bitch.

Leave the internet hanging with an "announcement" like the one below, and Fate will eventually get fed up and strike back. You'll prance into your house late on Saturday night after a lovely dinner at a Brazilian steakhouse spent with your equally happy husband only to stop short, pulling your face into a pucker;

"WHAT is that SMELL?!?"

That wonderfully toxic aroma wafts from none other than your side by side fridge which has decided to take a little hiatus and allow its contents to melt and stink up the joint.

Oh, Fate! You cruel little wench! Try though you might, forcing me to empty out my fridge and freezer on a Sunday morning fails to lessen my joy over the mysterious news that I cannot wait to share. If this is the ying to my yang, then I will happily scour the walls and drawers of my Amana. I will joyfully phone an appliance service and schedule a potentially costly repair. And your attempts to bring me down won't work this time!

Instead, you have allowed me the reason to drink a beer on a Sunday morning so as not to waste it...

O Happy Day!

A day filled with such good news that we had to celebrate with peanut butter cookies...
Made with love...

Such happy, happy news!

I can't divulge the details just yet, but rest assured, it's something we've been hoping for!

A Recap, if you will

All that touching and hugging and primal needs for each other can be really exhausting. Especially when your past 5 days included not one, but ALL of the following:

~ Great America with 3 kids and 2 grandparents. Roller coaster rides that your 4 year old is plenty tall enough for. Spinny rides that your blessed mother agrees to take your eldest on so that you don't puke before the end of the day. Gorgeous 80 degree-sunshiney day with just enough heat to let you enjoy getting soaked on 3 different water rides but not so hot that you have to listen to whiny and overheated children. 3 kids that never broke down (at least, not a complete melt down) or complained too much. A day spent walking and eating churros and screaming at the top of the Eagle's crest and fixing broken sandals (with a hair tie!) and racing to get that very last ride on the Demon before it closed. Watching my kids' sun-kissed faces light up in the twinkling lights as we limped and dragged ourselves to our car. Just a lovely, perfect day at the amusement park.

~ Riding a train to Chicago. Piling my 3 children and a spare buddy alongside myself and Patrick into a cab to visit Navy Pier. Munching on Garrett's popcorn while watching a wedding on a yacht just off the pier. Enjoying the chance to expose them to a short and family-friendly musical at the Shakespeare Theater. Being thrilled to find coupons for the Haagen Dazs ice cream shoppe at the back of the show's booklet so that we could all enjoy an icy treat. Racing to catch our train home and falling asleep to its lulling rock and shake only to jolt awake and see your 4 year old sitting on top of the chair's BACK.

~ Spending the 4th of July marveling over the past decade and how your niece (born just before midnight, 10 years prior) has grown up so quickly in front of your eyes. Eating burgers and sipping wine coolers while avoiding a full-on dunking in my parents' pool. Scooping ice cream for scrambling cousins before heading off to the fireworks show. Laughing so hard that my sides hurt at the 4 youngest cousins' reactions to the pyrotechnic show. "Oooohh!! That's the best show EVAHHH!"

~ Cleaning and cleaning and cleaning the house with a newly re-belted vacuum cleaner that was so long-awaited that I actually had DREAMS about receiving the belt in the mail.*

~ Assembling the brass bed from my 16th birthday for my own daughter and watching her face absolutely light up with joy. Patting myself on the back for not crying as I carted that crib mattress out of my last child's bedroom for the very last time...




*Yes. Dreams about vacuum belts. It's no longer a debate if I am old; It's official.

I don't want to forget this...

2 am this morning. My bed. Evan and Corinne are tangled around each other, my blankets and my pillows and I awoke with a start: I sigh... Where do I put my own head? Where do I stretch out and relax? When do I get a few moments ALONE, for cryin out loud?

Then.

A whimper and a cry and Corinne is frantically searching for something. Panic is in her glassy eyes and I know that she is still in that place between sleep and consciousness. I reach for her and attempt to stroke her wild sun-streaked locks down.

Shhh... shhh... Mommy's here.... shhh....

She clings to me instantly and shudders. I can only imagine the drama that was unfolding within her 4 year old mind, for she has relaxed against me and manages to murmur against my shoulder,

"I just wanted you, Mommy. I was scared and wanted you..."

There is a basic need that I have to touch my children. It's a need that is echoed back by them.

My kids are more than just an extension of me. They represent more than the love that Patrick and I shared to bring them into this world. These words right here are such a pitiful representation of what I am grasping at... Just let it be known that we exist together and are connected at a primal level. It's a common human need to want to be touched; But it's a mother's need to touch her children and to be touched by them. To be deprived of that ability must feel as though you are deprived of oxygen-rich air. Yes, I can exist with the poor quality air of the mountain-tops, working twice as hard to jump and run. But I'd rather thrive in the jungles below, breathing in so much oxygen that my mind feels euphoric and body rejuvenated...

What will life be like for me as my children pull away and no longer search for me in the night? When I am the only one with the primal need to touch them and their desire is to establish themselves as individuals? No longer so tightly connected to the woman that birthed them...

I suppose grandchildren are like oxygen masks. They have the ability to replenish the quality of air. They allow themselves to be overly hugged and held; to be adored without reserve...

And then I hear Evan stirring in his sleep. And he startles awake and reaches out for something...

And I remember to stay in the present. To enjoy the now. To saturate myself with so much oxygen right now that I cannot stay awake for the melancholic thoughts to take over. I reach for my son and stroke his spiky brown hair.

Shhh... shhh... Mommy's here... shhh...