I should be their Spokeperson. I really, really should.

I have finally been digging to the bottom of the huge box of samples that P&G sent to me after attending BlogHer11. Yes, I know it's been over 2 months.

This has led to the discovery of several girly products like "ampoule" for my hair from Pantene and a few items from Oil of Olay. So this week? I decided to be a girl and take care of my hair and face. I'm not sure what I was expecting from that ampoule thing, but the bottle claimed it would refresh and heal my split ends and the damage it has weathered, etc. etc. All I know is that after I used it? My hair still needed a trim. So it's hard to tell if the goop is working when all I can see is 14 different lengths of raggedy, tired hair. Nevertheless, my hair was clean and that's always the makings for a good day around here. So I decided to forge onward and use the moisturizing stuff on my face. In for a penny, after all.

Holy, holy, holy, y'all. My face! Now, maybe it's just because I was remembering to WASH it or maybe it's because of the products, but my face IS looking less war-torn and beat-up! I use the daily wash cloths thingies to clean the make-up off, and then apply the Regenerist stuff to my face and neck and my skin looks and feels AWESOME. Like, baby's butt/rubbing-my-cheeks-all-day/here,-touch-my-cheek-stranger-at-the-grocery-store AWESOME.

I shoved my nose up into Patrick's eyeball last night to prove my point. As he rubbed his bleeding cornea, he dutifully nodded and agreed that YES. I look just like I was 17 again!

So. There you have it. Clear evidence that Oil of Olay's Regenerist will knock a whole 10 years off your age.

;)

*Got the package for attending BlogHer and haven't ever talked to P&G but man-oh-man am I going to email them soon and suggest that I should be their new spokesperson for Oil of Olay. I don't even need to be paid in MONEY. Just in a lifetime supply of Regenerist. Well, maybe a little money, too. If they offer. I'm no martyr.

We've Fallen In Love with Ohio...

I feel as though this entire summer has been a series of road trips! We've covered Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan and Indiana. And now, my family can add Ohio to our list of places we've visited this year.

Patrick and I are huge roller coaster fans. So it's a BIG BIG deal to us that all 3 of our kids are also adrenaline junkies. We love Six Flags in Gurnee, Illinois, and go there every summer, but it was the only Amusement park (outside of Disney) that my children had ever attended. It was time to expand our horizons...

Thankfully, they can now add Cedar Point to their list!

Even better, they got to experience Cedar Point during their Halloweekends, where the park is all decorated for Fall. There are several haunted houses that open at nighttime and everywhere you turn you'll find a skeleton in a sad predicament, a troll with a weird tale to tell or a creepy band cranking out some Monster Mash. Don't worry about your little ones, though. The overall effect is still suitable for young children. No bloody gore was present in the park. (Though I can't speak for the Haunted Houses!) See? Spooky Snoopy. Cute!

Because she's always so generous to us and because she also LOVES roller coasters, we brought along my mother-in-law. This was helpful not only because she provided an extra person to help with the odd number in our family, but also because we would have probably eaten at McDonald's the entire trip, if not for her. Love you! Thank you!
My dear Mother-in-law being gently accosted by a ... werewolf? Not sure. But they were really well trained. No screaming kids in sight. My own kids think that the costumed people are funny, but I know a lot of children are freaked out by them.
Evan and Corinne had to make sure, one last time, which rides everyone could go on. There ARE a lot of rides for little kids, but I was SO HAPPY that all of my kids were over 48" tall. That seems to be the cut off for the majority of the coasters. Corinne was able to ride about 85% of the rides, Evan about 95% and Justin could ride all of them. We were PUMPED.


Waiting in line for the Iron Dragon, a slower coaster that is suitable for smaller children, but still has some speed and crazy twists to it. We rode it a LOT. Especially at night time, when the fog machine was pumping a mist over the lake. Corinne thought it was deliciously spooky.
Look at their faces! Aren't they adorable? The Wildcat looks like a tiny little coaster, but Oh My Gosh! It has some serious speed for a mini-ride! Hold on tight at the end, though. Those brakes'll shock you...
It's difficult to get a serious picture of Justin, so I took this one before he knew what hit him. See that in the background? That's the Top Thrill Dragster. It's one of the fastest coasters in the world and only lasts 16.8 seconds. (It's the ride you go on instead of having coffee.) We had early entry to the park because we were staying on the property, so we sped directly to this ride and only had a 10 minute wait. I HIGHLY recommend heading straight to The Dragster, first thing in the morning. It gets some serious lines as the day progresses and you do NOT want to miss it. Don't worry about how freaky it looks or how fast it goes or that you shoot straight up and then straight down. Don't let your nerves talk you out of this ride! It is WORTH IT. The adrenaline rush we had after riding the Dragster lasted for a good hour and we walked around with dopey grins on our faces.

Yeah, she's not really scared. I don't think anything scares this child. Not even the Millennium Force! Just look at this ride: It's enormous and she's only FIVE and yet Corinne and Evan climbed right on board with me and Pat and HELD THEIR HANDS IN THE AIR. I don't know if their fearlessness is a good thing or something to worry about, but since I can't change it, I'm gonna embrace it!

If you are thinking about going this year, there are still some really good deals for tickets available online. You can save tons buy purchasing online and I highly recommend staying on-site so that you can get that early entrance to the park. It's also fabulous to be able to just walk back to your room, without having to deal with buckling sleepy children into the car.

Check out the Cedar Point site for more information. I know that my own family is raring to go back again!


*Disclaimer: I received our tickets for the park entry and 1 night's hotel accommodations from the Cedar Point public relations in exchange for my opinions. But the opinions remain my own, as they always do, and no money was received.

No title necessary

I have so many topics in my head with half-written posts, but I don't want to put them to paper. (Or rather, screen? Hmmmm. That's a particular phrase that will most likely die out in a generation or two, eh?)

I look at the screen, and all I see is "Words with Friends" or "Go to Bed because you're exhausted."

So, I play Words with Friends and go to bed because I'm exhausted. Stupid, bossy brain.

Things I've done that may or may not sound impressive to anyone but myself:

~ directed a P.E. class for our homeschool club. A PHYSICAL FITNESS CLASS. Me! ME! Lemme tell you, I do not scream "physical fitness guru." But no one else was stepping up and I think it went pretty well. All they really want to do is play organized tag games with weird names attached to it, anyway. I can TOTALLY manage that. Last week was octopus tag. This week: CATERPILLAR tag. No problem.

~ Steam cleaned my carpets. Again, ME. I DID THIS. Another attribute I am not noted for possessing is the ability to keep my house clean. I will pick up, and occasionally, go crazy cleaning top to bottom. But that's usually when a party is coming. And, even then? I've gotten pretty blase about trying to impress people that truly know me. So, to steam clean my filthy, filthy carpets for NO PARTICULAR REASON? Is like a hoarder voluntarily filling up a dumpster.

~ Celebrated my anniversary with Patrick. Hmmm. I guess that this line isn't really something I "accomplished." But it meant that I had to buy a CARD at the STORE. A trip to the store for a single purchase is rare. So that means it must be true love.

~ Watched the weather stations like a hawk because we are doing something FUN this weekend and it says that it might rain! This would suck exponentially, so I keep trying out different weather stations to find a forecast that I like a little better. Please cross your fingers and toes so that we can actually attend this awesome activity...

~ Filmed my baby learning to ride a bike!!! She just figured it out, yesterday afternoon. And now, she's like a pro! I pulled the boys outside to clap and yell. Evan watched his sister doing BMX tricks (no joke) up and down the sidewalk. He then popped his shoes on (because we're ALWAYS barefoot) and began to practice on his bike again!! My mind is racing with the possibilities that we might be able to go on a family bike ride!! Let's just hope that he doesn't give up too soon. Justin was the same age (9) when he finally got on a bike and took off, so maybe that will encourage him....

Good Golly, this was dull. Except for the bike riding. Even a troll would have to admit that THAT was really cool.

Supernanny can kiss my crochet hook

This morning, while watching Supernanny (nothing else was on. I SWEAR TO GOD), my kids' mouths were hanging open as the little girl flung herself about in a most impressive and incredibly piercing tantrum.

I paused in my crocheting (My rows are finally even!) and gave them the evil eye.

"Why is this shocking to you guys? That is EXACTLY what you sound like! Last night, even! This is why I sent you to your rooms!!"

Shaking my head and smugly smiling to myself because I, obviously, had a better handle on this parenting gig than those parents, I began to crochet once more. And then Corinne turned from the screen where the mother was literally tearing her hair out while shrieking at her children at the top of her lungs:

"But Mommy! THAT is exactly what YOU sound like!"

Too pooped to party

It's been a long week.

To put it mildly.

Patrick's been out of town. We've left the windows open and the front door unlocked twice. Thankfully, I also forgot to post the sign outside that said "Single, unarmed woman inside! Burglars and psychos, please use the front door!" so we managed to not get murdered and/or mutilated.

The weather has gone from 95 and sunny to 45 and frigid in just under 5 days. Hello, Autumn! In the process of digging out all of our fall clothing, I realized that I purchased the wrong size jeans for Justin. Even though his favorite pair of jeans is ONE SIZE, all of the other jeans that I bought in the same OR LARGER sizes do not fit. AT ALL. As in, the inseam is off, the waist band is crazily small and the legs don't look quite kosher. AWESOMESAUCE. We must venture into the men's department to get the proper fit. I can only assume that this will mean more money. Because anything else wouldn't fit with Murphy's Law.

I feel as though I drove 200 miles and didn't actually "go" anywhere. Well, besides a field trip to an atomic accelerator laboratory, jazz AND ballet, the grocery store twice (even though I somehow didn't purchase a single entire meal), rescued a dog from the terrors of a 4-lane highway, Chicago's Science and Industry Museum, and worked at a children's clothing sale (where I bought those jeans that don't fit my son). So technically? I guess I did go places. But it feels incredibly circular.

I had to cancel on two blogging functions this weekend due to no sitters and no husband home. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise as Evan is now sleeping away his "too tired for schoolwork" agony on the couch. I guess he really DIDN'T feel good, after all? Oops. Not really my fault, though. The whole "Boy who cried Wolf" kid had NOTHING on my middle child. NOTHING.

To be fair, some good stuff DID balance it out a bit. I got to snuggle my nephews while my sister attended a meeting(though that reignited the baby sighs for a bit...), have dinner with my sisters sans children and took my kids to my parents' house for the final swim at Nana and Papa's pool. We also had way too many sleepovers in my bedroom which meant that every chilly morning found us burrowing our icy feet down into our covers for a later start to our days. (i.e. my idea of a Perfect Day).

Basically, though? I miss my husband. Nothing's quite the same without him here and I am ready for this whole week to be OVER.

In which I test what I like to call "The Bloggess Effect."

The Bloggess Effect, (heretofore* known as TBE) is a phenomenon understood by all low-key bloggers who enjoy the humorous writings of Jen, aka The Bloggess.

TBE most often occurs when said low-key blogger finds herself*** opening the sitemeter of her blog's stats to find that the page views have increased dramatically overnight.

"Halleleujah!" shouts low-key blogger. "The Internet is finally realizing my awesomeness and I will soon have thousands of followers which will then lead to a Famous Blog, following which I will get my own t.v. show!!"

Naturally. This IS what we all think. Maybe some of you don't actually yell it out at the screen? Yes?

Moving on.

As Low-Key Blogger jumps onto her desk chair to shake her middle-aged bootie, she clicks onto the "referred by" line.

And pauses.

And climbs down from her rickety chair.

And weeps just a bit as the truth becomes evident.

No Famous Blog in sight.

Thousands of Followers will not be arriving anytime soon.

And that t.v. show is definitely gonna have to wait.

Because the truth is there in that referring URL line:

http://thebloggess.com

You were witty on a comment on her awesomely famous blog or managed to have a funny blog post title at the time of said comment, thus garnering a tiny portion of her massive amounts of readers' attention.

Thus proving my theory.


*heretofore? Henceforth? Adam told me not to use fancy words. Or did he say to be creative with English? I don't remember.**

**Ok. That's a lie. I probably just wasn't paying attention.

***Defiitely HERself. Because all bloggers are women, right? Except for Jim, Adam, Lou, Mark and that handsome backpacking dude with the eyebrows.

To top it all off, I was wearing a Thong...

I've been working and shopping at the same Children's Toy and Clothing Resale gig for quite a while. 12 years, in fact. Once I was turned onto the benefits that buying used children's clothing could bring (i.e. extra money for wine and coffee), I became a die-hard volunteer. Every September and March, you will find me waiting in line to stampede the fairgrounds' gates; eager for my chance at AMAZING DEALS.

This year was no different.

I stood in line in the light drizzle, dressed for success: comfortable shoes, t-shirt that breathes, and pants that allow freedom of movement, but still have pockets for the wad of cash I use to pay for my loot. I was armed with my laundry basket on a belt (to pull along behind me when the pile of shoes, jeans and winter gear becomes too heavy to carry) and no purse or jacket to weigh me down.

The doors opened, and I wasted no time. No hemming and hawing at the tables for me. You have to know what you want and where to find it.

I zeroed in on the clothing for Justin. At the age of 12, his clothing is the most expensive in stores, so the greatest money is to be saved at that section. I totally scored on jeans, long sleeved tees and a dress shirt for this winter. Doing a happy little jig, I moved on down the table, and found that there were plenty of winter shirts and tees for Evan, too. Feeling quite proud of myself, I turned around to check out the shoe situation before hitting the girls' department.

Aha! Winter boots for Corinne and they're only... $2.50!! Ka-Ching! I could practically FEEL the condensation from the bottles of wine in my hand as I squatted down to snatch those boots up...

And then I had the strangest sensation...

Almost as if my skin were being drawn upon by a pen, all along the backside of my leg and rear...

The telltale "rrrrriiiippppp!!!!" had me freezing in mid-boot-grab. When I reached around behind me to survey the damage, my hand felt nothing but the soft fuzz of my bare thigh.

Oh yeah. And my ass, as well.

That's right. I had ripped my pants. But not just "ripped" them. Nay. My beloved capris had shredded themselves into a gap so wide that my entire thigh and left cheek were now COMPLETELY exposed.

In a room full of women who were all trying to get MY DEALS.

What to do?

Well, in a situation such as this, there is only one answer: Go with it, girl, for there are no tears in Resale.

It was lucky for me that I had shopped for Justin's clothing first. There was a soft, long-sleeved tee on top that easily tied around my waist. I tugged it low enough that no flesh could be glimpsed and I continued about my merry way, securing the jeans and Christmas outfit that Corinne needed in addition to a cute ballet leotard and a puzzle on the U.S. states, all the while enjoying a cool breeze down below.

Because that's how I roll.
Note: View of "cheeks" may be slightly altered to remain PG and to spare your precious eyes.

My 5 year old swiped my camera

What concerns me most is what was I doing while she was walking around, taking pictures with my expensive camera?
Well, No. I guess what really concerns me most is "How did she TAKE this shot?" This is on top of her wardrobe and to get this shot, she'd have to be standing on top of SOMEthing, I just don't know what...
Not too bad. Got everyone in the picture...
Actually, pretty good centering... And you have to love a chick who has a fairy next to a Star Wars poster.
Annnddd, there you go. What my house is really like. A random shot of school trash, cat legs and a drawer that I keep meaning to put back into my desk...
This picture would be REALLY disturbing if it wasn't so freaking hilarious. Also? Anytime a child has a missing tooth, my heart goes all pitty-pat... How can you not love a girl who can flare her nostrils like that? That's sheer talent. Talent and good genes.

In Which I Become Like Steve Irwin

At what degree will fruit flies naturally DIE? If I leave my windows open every night, and the temperature drops to about 50 Farenheit each night (which it DOES! It's wonderfully chilly and I am wrapped in a ROBE!!!!), how long do I have to wait before I can expect to find their little corpses all curled up on my counter tops instead of hovering over the drains and garbage cans?

I swear to God, we are NOT filthy people. Now, we are not super-clean, either, but we've never had fruit flies in the 14 years we've been married, so either I've been doing something right for 14 years or the little buggers were just lying in wait for over a decade, plotting the prime moment to strike and invade my home. Seeing as how fruit flies only live a few weeks, I'm guessing this was just a random attack.

Or maybe they covet my juicy tomatoes?I mean, really? Who wouldn't?

I was doing the whole "vinegar in a cup with a funnel thing" but it wasn't working! They would go in, get trapped, and I would do a victory dance in the kitchen, complete with hip thrusts and shouts of "Uh! Uh! Take THAT you little bastards!" I would then skip happily upstairs to bed and sleep an untroubled, bug-free bliss. So, you can imagine my surprise when I would come downstairs only to find that they had ESCAPED! They had escaped and had an orgy overnight, increasing their numbers threefold! Not only that, but their offspring had been raised on stories of me, the Great Captor. They were PISSED.

I have been suffering these past few days (oh, how I've suffered!). Swatting my head, whacking the walls, and swearing uncontrollably.* FINALLY, just moments ago, I decided to read the ENTIRE directions on How to Kill Fruit Flies.

Heh.

"Release them every day."

Ooohhhh.... No happy victory dances as I wait for them to drown? That's not nice? They will figure out the funnel? Their brains are small but not non-existent? I have to carry the glasses outside and RELEASE them into the wild?

Ohhh.....

I suddenly feel all Animal Planetish.


*that may or may not have to do with the fruit flies... I may just have a profanity issue....

Crrrruuuunch. Crrrruuuunch.*

See this? These 12 rows?I MADE THAT.**

For realz.

See these?***

And these?

I GREW THEM.

With my hands.

I grew them and these herbs and I just mix that shit UP and have been making the best pasta sauce EVER from my garden.

That I GREW.

Just like God.

I feel POWERFUL. I feel.... Inspired.

Got a problem? LET ME AT IT.

I feel as though I could create anything and solve any issues you can throw my way. Just me, my crochet hook and my garden hose.


*That's the sound of my crunchiness factor increasing by 34%.

**Be kind. I learned how to crochet at 9:30 last night and only have the basic step down. I am going for the enjoyment of the PROCESS here, folks. Not the exactness of the stitch. I asked Corinne if she was going to wear the scarf I was making and she hedged, very kindly, "Um... Maybe. Maybe if I can't find any other scarf, and I am really cold, I will wear it."


***Next year: Grapes. If I can make tomatoes for my own sauces, I can sure as hell grow grapes for my own wine. I AM LIKE GOD. Let's just hope the wine doesn't taste the way my "scarf" (I'm using that term loosely) looks. i.e. lumpy and confusing. But LOVELY. Oh so lovely and pink and soft and I am WOMAN HEAR ME ROAR NOW LET'S GO CREATE SOMETHING RAWWWRR!!!!

Sweeter than Honey...

"Mommy, how do I look?" She peers at me from underneath her mop of wispy blond hair. Only it's not wispy, anymore. It's... wet?

"Oh, you look lovely, Corinne! Did you use water to slick down your hair?"

But she's danced away in a swirl of her flowing hippie skirt; singing a Taylor Swift song with surprising accuracy. I return to my coffee and immerse myself in my emails until a truly pleasing aroma overtakes me. Turning around, I discover the odor is emanating from Corinne who has flitted back into the room to her art desk behind me.

"Wow! You smell really good! Did you use soap on your hair?"

Blank stare.

I sniff her head again. She smells... familiar... but I can't quite place the scent.

"Corinne? What did you put on your hair?"

"I... don't remember. Just water, Mommy."

Knowing my daughter and her inability to refrain from sampling my perfumes, soaps and hair goop, I swept my hand through her locks. It felt.... oily.

"Did you put soap on your hair? You smell like..." I inhaled deeply, "... fruit. You smell really, really fruity!"

"I didn't, Mommy! I promise! I didn't put soap on my hair!!!" Her enormous eyes are indignant.

I grudgingly pull myself away from my beloved computer and we trudge into the kitchen. I am fairly positive that she put the new dish soap which smells like red grapefruit on her hair and just didn't wash it all out. Not that I condone using dish soap on your head, but hey; If my kid is going to voluntarily wash her hair, I am not going to complain. And the dish soap does smell DIVINE. So I understood her desire to use it.

I washed her hair out several times and we talked about being sure to properly rinse soap after we shampoo our heads. She continued to insist that she did NOT put the soap on her head and I continued to roll my eyes. I rubbed her head with a moderately clean kitchen towel and sent her off to play while bombarding the back of her head with reminders to "Tell the Truth!"

Still. That scent. I wonder...

I check the dish soap bottle. I sniff. It's really fruity, for sure, but not exactly what she had on her head. And I SWEAR that I know that smell! The olfactory does NOT forget! Deciding that it may just be one of those parenting queries that never reveals itself, I abandon the mystery to clean the house before our friends come over for dinner.

Later that night, during a conversation with my girlfriend, I notice that Corinne's hair still looks a little... wet. I begin to describe the afternoon to my girlfriend. I laugh as I say,

"...and her hair was oily! I mean, what could she possibly have gotten into?!? Ha Ha Ha!!! Ha...Ha... Oh. Oh dear...."

I thump up the stairs to our room and fling open the door and there, upon our bedroom dresser, is the answer. The bottle. The aroma that smelled so pleasant and was so familiar but was so difficult to place when it arose from my 5 year old's head.

My kindergartener had bathed her head in our scented "personal massage" oil. The oil in the bottle that has a drawing of people in a very, um... amorous position.

I do not have enough money for the therapy that her childhood will require.