We have a trip to take and we're leaving tonight. That means that I have a house to prepare for the house sitter, cats that need to be settled in for a few days alone, housework that desperately needs to be done, errands that need to be run, a vehicle that needs to be gassed up, bags that need to be packed, children that need to be herded up and dressed for the drive, and online obligations that need to be fulfilled.
I've gotten none of them done and I'm watching time fly away like someone strapped a jet engine to its backside.
So what HAVE I accomplished so far?
Umm... the kids ate breakfast. The cats ate breakfast.
I got 853,350 which beats my high score this week in Bejewelled.
At least the important stuff is done, right?
...
Yeah, yeah. Back to my corner. I'm going.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
I am NOT weird!!
Okay.. maybe a little bit. But my 4 year old singing in latin does NOT mean I need to be evaluated for mental health issues.
We are a musical family. I sing. Sarah sings. Heather is learning to sing. Hunter howls, but shows promise that it'll be singing within a couple of years. Steve ... puts up with us.
I spent most of my school years in competition choirs and my high school ALWAYS placed no matter what we were competing in. After I graduated, I endured more than a decade of my mother and sister pestering me about auditioning for American Idol. Trust me. I'm not that good and no one with my confidence issues needs to have Simon Cowell shred what dignity is left after butchering some piece of musical history in front of a live audience that is waiting for you to make the "Look how horrible THIS one was!" reel.
Anyway, back to something relevant.... I was raised listening to what was then referred to as "Golden Oldies". You know... the Moody Blues, The Association, Jay and the Americans, The Vogues, The Mamas and the Papas, etc... Add to that the stuff I was taught to sing in school, my mother's love of classical music, and my fondness of Disney movies and Andrew Lloyd Webber... well let's just say that the types of music that involve the lead singer screaming unintelligibly into the mic until his vocal cords shred while the drummer and guitarist compete to see who can make the amps and speakers explode first.... or the stuff that makes every car on the road throb and single-handedly keeps companies that produce migraine meds in business.... not my thing.
I like harmonies. I like vocals you can understand. I like being able to pick out who is singing which notes. I like having a song end and not having to reach for an economy sized bottle of Tylenol. Because of this, my children have a limited range of music they are exposed to. Currently it's Disney soundtracks, The Mamas and the Papas (Heather's favorite songs include "Monday, Monday" while Sarah and Hunter prefer "California Dreamin'".), Casting Crowns, and Celtic Woman.
As a matter of fact, I'm listening to Celtic Woman now and it reminded me of something that happened last week while out grabbing a few groceries. We were wandering through Sam's Club and Heather was trying to sing "Pie Jesu". As is to be expected, she was mangling a few of the words and I was correcting her, then helping her find the pitch she was supposed to be on as opposed to whatever chord she'd found that was likely making glassware crack a couple of aisles over. After several attempts at this, I had another lady ask me what language we were speaking to each other. I explained that it was a latin song that my child wanted to learn and this woman looked at me like I was some kind of degenerate trying to ruin my daughter's future.
Now anyone who knows me is keenly aware of how I react to having any complete stranger advise me on how to be a parent, particularly any complete stranger who gives the impression that parenthood is NOT a priority in their near future. I'm quite certain that the hackles rising on the back of my neck were visible to people twenty feet away from us, however this young woman appeared oblivious to her danger. To add to her precarious position, it turned out that we were standing in the movie and music section of the store. How convenient. *growl* She glanced down for a moment, selected a CD, handed it to my child, and said "Here. This is better."
It was a Justin Bieber album.
To my credit, I didn't maim her although I'm pretty sure she was thoroughly offended by my response. I'd like to say I didn't raise my voice, but that'd be a lie.
I'm absolutely positive that my gales of laughter could be heard clearly across the entire mid atlantic region.
We are a musical family. I sing. Sarah sings. Heather is learning to sing. Hunter howls, but shows promise that it'll be singing within a couple of years. Steve ... puts up with us.
I spent most of my school years in competition choirs and my high school ALWAYS placed no matter what we were competing in. After I graduated, I endured more than a decade of my mother and sister pestering me about auditioning for American Idol. Trust me. I'm not that good and no one with my confidence issues needs to have Simon Cowell shred what dignity is left after butchering some piece of musical history in front of a live audience that is waiting for you to make the "Look how horrible THIS one was!" reel.
Anyway, back to something relevant.... I was raised listening to what was then referred to as "Golden Oldies". You know... the Moody Blues, The Association, Jay and the Americans, The Vogues, The Mamas and the Papas, etc... Add to that the stuff I was taught to sing in school, my mother's love of classical music, and my fondness of Disney movies and Andrew Lloyd Webber... well let's just say that the types of music that involve the lead singer screaming unintelligibly into the mic until his vocal cords shred while the drummer and guitarist compete to see who can make the amps and speakers explode first.... or the stuff that makes every car on the road throb and single-handedly keeps companies that produce migraine meds in business.... not my thing.
I like harmonies. I like vocals you can understand. I like being able to pick out who is singing which notes. I like having a song end and not having to reach for an economy sized bottle of Tylenol. Because of this, my children have a limited range of music they are exposed to. Currently it's Disney soundtracks, The Mamas and the Papas (Heather's favorite songs include "Monday, Monday" while Sarah and Hunter prefer "California Dreamin'".), Casting Crowns, and Celtic Woman.
As a matter of fact, I'm listening to Celtic Woman now and it reminded me of something that happened last week while out grabbing a few groceries. We were wandering through Sam's Club and Heather was trying to sing "Pie Jesu". As is to be expected, she was mangling a few of the words and I was correcting her, then helping her find the pitch she was supposed to be on as opposed to whatever chord she'd found that was likely making glassware crack a couple of aisles over. After several attempts at this, I had another lady ask me what language we were speaking to each other. I explained that it was a latin song that my child wanted to learn and this woman looked at me like I was some kind of degenerate trying to ruin my daughter's future.
Now anyone who knows me is keenly aware of how I react to having any complete stranger advise me on how to be a parent, particularly any complete stranger who gives the impression that parenthood is NOT a priority in their near future. I'm quite certain that the hackles rising on the back of my neck were visible to people twenty feet away from us, however this young woman appeared oblivious to her danger. To add to her precarious position, it turned out that we were standing in the movie and music section of the store. How convenient. *growl* She glanced down for a moment, selected a CD, handed it to my child, and said "Here. This is better."
It was a Justin Bieber album.
To my credit, I didn't maim her although I'm pretty sure she was thoroughly offended by my response. I'd like to say I didn't raise my voice, but that'd be a lie.
I'm absolutely positive that my gales of laughter could be heard clearly across the entire mid atlantic region.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Not one more sound out of anyone!
Steve and I wanted to watch a movie. This is how things went...
*push play on DVD*
*movie starts*
*Heather demands to know what's going on upstairs*
*movie pauses*
*Heather is told a movie is starting but declines to come watch*
*movie starts*
*Hunter wakes up from his nap*
*movie pauses*
*Hunter bounds into the room and settles in to watch*
*movie starts*
*Heather realizes Hunter is awake and bolts upstairs to loudly insist that he go play with her in the playroom*
*movie pauses*
*argument ensues over what Hunter is going to do*
*Steve and I diplomatically end argument and Heather stalks into the playroom alone*
*movie starts*
*Heather begins to play house loudly and gets steadily louder as no one responds*
*movie pauses*
*Heather shushes and sulks*
*movie starts*
*Heather and Hunter both start to argue again from different rooms*
*movie pauses*
Steve: THAT'S IT! NOT ONE MORE SOUND OUT OF ANYONE!!
*Kids meekly settle into place and the movie starts*
Cali: *MEEEEOOOOOOWWWWW!!!*
*cue eruption of Vesuvius*
*push play on DVD*
*movie starts*
*Heather demands to know what's going on upstairs*
*movie pauses*
*Heather is told a movie is starting but declines to come watch*
*movie starts*
*Hunter wakes up from his nap*
*movie pauses*
*Hunter bounds into the room and settles in to watch*
*movie starts*
*Heather realizes Hunter is awake and bolts upstairs to loudly insist that he go play with her in the playroom*
*movie pauses*
*argument ensues over what Hunter is going to do*
*Steve and I diplomatically end argument and Heather stalks into the playroom alone*
*movie starts*
*Heather begins to play house loudly and gets steadily louder as no one responds*
*movie pauses*
*Heather shushes and sulks*
*movie starts*
*Heather and Hunter both start to argue again from different rooms*
*movie pauses*
Steve: THAT'S IT! NOT ONE MORE SOUND OUT OF ANYONE!!
*Kids meekly settle into place and the movie starts*
Cali: *MEEEEOOOOOOWWWWW!!!*
*cue eruption of Vesuvius*
Friday, June 24, 2011
Fridays: Family, Fun, Friends, and other Fiascos.
I know I'm late with my blog, but it's been a busy day.
As usual, Hunter rolled out of bed and woke up the sun again. A few hours later I wrangled the kids into clothes suitable for public viewing and we trudged off to get my passport taken care of. What should have been a 20 minute transaction involving three pages of paperwork, one snapshot, and a receipt somehow became 40 minutes of Heather and Hunter arguing over the photo stool and hamming it up while the woman handling passports played fashion photographer with them and assured me that she didn't really mind.
I'm not sure who was more unhappy; the embarrassed mother who really just wanted to finish up and go HOME before someone called a local circus or the absolutely miserable teen who had just been introduced to feminine cramps on steroids that was curled up in the fetal position in a corner trying not to go on a homicidal rampage.
Once we got out of there we still had to run by the store to grab a few necessities which ALWAYS involves hyperactivity, threats, whining, confinement to the back of a shopping cart, more whining, some growling, and eventual highway robbery at the cash register.
By this time it was far too late in the day for Hunter to get his nap so we didn't bother. Everyone was looking forward to going out to watch the church's softball team play. Finally it was time to go so we piled into my car and headed off to grab a couple of tacos on the way. Ten minutes later, Hunter was out cold and not the least bit interested in trying to stay alert for a few hours. Okay... we hung a u-ie and dropped him back at home with Daddy so he could zonk comfortably. Of course Hunter woke up just enough to realize he was being robbed of an outing and the screaming heebie jeebies began while I escaped out the front door before Steve could change his mind and toss the boy back into my car.
Once at the park, the parents were pleasantly surprised to find that tonight's assigned field didn't have a large swath of loose dirt for our children to roll around in all evening. The children were not even remotely thrilled about this and there were a few rounds of "I'm bored. There's no dirt in this grass." before we coaxed them into playing tag and burning some energy. A few innings later, Heather turned up in her matching tan outfit.
Wait... tan? She was wearing a green shirt and jean shorts when we got here! Where'd they find dirt???
Oh. They dug up the grass and moved rocks around until they had a satisfactory dirt patch. *sigh* At least they wore themselves out playing and scampering around for the duration.
Now it's 10:30 at night. Steve's relaxing with a new computer game that was just released earlier this week. Sarah's at a friend's house for the night. I'm planning to go see how many stitches I can get into this week's project before I pass out.
And Heather and Hunter are sneaking out of bed and creeping across the playroom to get toys because they insist they're not tired yet.
I'd scream, but someone would just panic and call the police.
Hey... does anyone know if holding cells are quiet?
As usual, Hunter rolled out of bed and woke up the sun again. A few hours later I wrangled the kids into clothes suitable for public viewing and we trudged off to get my passport taken care of. What should have been a 20 minute transaction involving three pages of paperwork, one snapshot, and a receipt somehow became 40 minutes of Heather and Hunter arguing over the photo stool and hamming it up while the woman handling passports played fashion photographer with them and assured me that she didn't really mind.
I'm not sure who was more unhappy; the embarrassed mother who really just wanted to finish up and go HOME before someone called a local circus or the absolutely miserable teen who had just been introduced to feminine cramps on steroids that was curled up in the fetal position in a corner trying not to go on a homicidal rampage.
Once we got out of there we still had to run by the store to grab a few necessities which ALWAYS involves hyperactivity, threats, whining, confinement to the back of a shopping cart, more whining, some growling, and eventual highway robbery at the cash register.
By this time it was far too late in the day for Hunter to get his nap so we didn't bother. Everyone was looking forward to going out to watch the church's softball team play. Finally it was time to go so we piled into my car and headed off to grab a couple of tacos on the way. Ten minutes later, Hunter was out cold and not the least bit interested in trying to stay alert for a few hours. Okay... we hung a u-ie and dropped him back at home with Daddy so he could zonk comfortably. Of course Hunter woke up just enough to realize he was being robbed of an outing and the screaming heebie jeebies began while I escaped out the front door before Steve could change his mind and toss the boy back into my car.
Once at the park, the parents were pleasantly surprised to find that tonight's assigned field didn't have a large swath of loose dirt for our children to roll around in all evening. The children were not even remotely thrilled about this and there were a few rounds of "I'm bored. There's no dirt in this grass." before we coaxed them into playing tag and burning some energy. A few innings later, Heather turned up in her matching tan outfit.
Wait... tan? She was wearing a green shirt and jean shorts when we got here! Where'd they find dirt???
Oh. They dug up the grass and moved rocks around until they had a satisfactory dirt patch. *sigh* At least they wore themselves out playing and scampering around for the duration.
Now it's 10:30 at night. Steve's relaxing with a new computer game that was just released earlier this week. Sarah's at a friend's house for the night. I'm planning to go see how many stitches I can get into this week's project before I pass out.
And Heather and Hunter are sneaking out of bed and creeping across the playroom to get toys because they insist they're not tired yet.
I'd scream, but someone would just panic and call the police.
Hey... does anyone know if holding cells are quiet?
Thursday, June 23, 2011
It's home, it's home!!!
Thank you sooooooo much, Manny! Your framing is gorgeous as always!!
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This is In Loving Memory by Ellen Maurer-Stroh. It was stitched up for my mother and is now hanging up in our bedroom until Steve can build the little shelf I'd like to have in order to display some of her collectibles and things I associate with her. Since I still have small children who give whole new meaning to chaos and mayhem, the shelf and its contents will stay safely hidden in our bedroom until they reach an age that isn't associated quite so closely with indoor hurricanes and tornados.
Mom passed the day I finally brought the project to Georgia to show her. I didn't realize that she could no longer see and I felt like a complete heel for not bringing it to her before just because I wasn't finished with it. When she passed a couple of hours later, I gave real consideration to simply not finishing this. Something kicked me in the back of the head later that evening, though. Maybe one of Mom's heavenly bricks?
Whatever it was, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got back to work. All that motivation I'd been struggling to find up until that point seemed to flood back into me and I was finished within a couple of weeks. I handed it over to Manny for framing and, once again, he turned my little craft into something worth hanging up and showing off.
This is In Loving Memory by Ellen Maurer-Stroh. It was stitched up for my mother and is now hanging up in our bedroom until Steve can build the little shelf I'd like to have in order to display some of her collectibles and things I associate with her. Since I still have small children who give whole new meaning to chaos and mayhem, the shelf and its contents will stay safely hidden in our bedroom until they reach an age that isn't associated quite so closely with indoor hurricanes and tornados.
Mom passed the day I finally brought the project to Georgia to show her. I didn't realize that she could no longer see and I felt like a complete heel for not bringing it to her before just because I wasn't finished with it. When she passed a couple of hours later, I gave real consideration to simply not finishing this. Something kicked me in the back of the head later that evening, though. Maybe one of Mom's heavenly bricks?
Whatever it was, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and got back to work. All that motivation I'd been struggling to find up until that point seemed to flood back into me and I was finished within a couple of weeks. I handed it over to Manny for framing and, once again, he turned my little craft into something worth hanging up and showing off.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
*Twitch* just.... *twitch*
My family believes in efficiency. Otherwise known as shortcuts. As most everyone who has ever relied on shortcuts knows, eventually shortcuts are anything but. One of my high school math teachers, Mr. Hofius, said something that has always stuck with me: "Necessity was NOT the mother of invention. Laziness was."
Think about it. We all know that the best way to get a window sparkling clean and streak free is to use a little bit of cleaner, a soft cloth, and a lot of elbow grease in a frantic race against evaporation. But how many of us have discovered that a garden hose with more pressure than is probably safe also works just as well. At least until you go back in the house and spot all the crud that was in the hose before you painted your windows with it.
Dusting is supposed to be done daily with a feather duster or damp cloth and the dust is supposed to be removed completely, right? But how many of us do the Dance of the Bumblebee thing like you see in the Swiffer commercials or, in my case, vacuum the stuff til it looks great. As long as no one bumps anything out of place and reveals what color the shelf is SUPPOSED to be.
Steve likes to grill, but has grown tired of things sticking to the grating. Yes, that means it's time to replace the grill, but we have other things higher on our financial priority list at the moment. So he filled an extra squirt bottle with cooking oil and went to town last night whipping up some really REALLY good grilled chicken. The spray bottle worked great! Of course, the grating that was the problem in the first place is not only still filthy and needing to be scraped clean, but now it's greasy to boot. *twitch*
My darling children are supposed to keep their room clean so Steve and I can walk in there in the middle of the night without feeling like we're tiptoeing across a minefield of plastic booby traps when we check on them before bed. This generally translates into a pair of human snowplows shoving things against the walls and into overturned toyboxes in order to clear a safe path for us. Step off the path and BOOOOM!!! This of course means that the next day is spent undoing the previous evening's plowing and much playtime and enjoyment is lost.
We're learning, slowly but surely, that shortcuts just don't pay off the way they promise. Oh so slowly.... but eventually!
So today I was amused to hear Heather and Hunter arguing over the paper towels because they wanted to clean the windows, the tv, and their little Leapster. How cute! I'll probably have to go back over what they've "cleaned" but how bad could it be, right?
Remember Steve's spray bottle of cooking oil?
Yeah.
*twitch!*
Think about it. We all know that the best way to get a window sparkling clean and streak free is to use a little bit of cleaner, a soft cloth, and a lot of elbow grease in a frantic race against evaporation. But how many of us have discovered that a garden hose with more pressure than is probably safe also works just as well. At least until you go back in the house and spot all the crud that was in the hose before you painted your windows with it.
Dusting is supposed to be done daily with a feather duster or damp cloth and the dust is supposed to be removed completely, right? But how many of us do the Dance of the Bumblebee thing like you see in the Swiffer commercials or, in my case, vacuum the stuff til it looks great. As long as no one bumps anything out of place and reveals what color the shelf is SUPPOSED to be.
Steve likes to grill, but has grown tired of things sticking to the grating. Yes, that means it's time to replace the grill, but we have other things higher on our financial priority list at the moment. So he filled an extra squirt bottle with cooking oil and went to town last night whipping up some really REALLY good grilled chicken. The spray bottle worked great! Of course, the grating that was the problem in the first place is not only still filthy and needing to be scraped clean, but now it's greasy to boot. *twitch*
My darling children are supposed to keep their room clean so Steve and I can walk in there in the middle of the night without feeling like we're tiptoeing across a minefield of plastic booby traps when we check on them before bed. This generally translates into a pair of human snowplows shoving things against the walls and into overturned toyboxes in order to clear a safe path for us. Step off the path and BOOOOM!!! This of course means that the next day is spent undoing the previous evening's plowing and much playtime and enjoyment is lost.
We're learning, slowly but surely, that shortcuts just don't pay off the way they promise. Oh so slowly.... but eventually!
So today I was amused to hear Heather and Hunter arguing over the paper towels because they wanted to clean the windows, the tv, and their little Leapster. How cute! I'll probably have to go back over what they've "cleaned" but how bad could it be, right?
Remember Steve's spray bottle of cooking oil?
Yeah.
*twitch!*
Monday, June 20, 2011
I can rip up trees with my bare hands!
No really. I can!
The tallest one came up to my waist and I landed in an undignified heap when it finally lost its grip on the soil, but I got it! Just call me Hulkess! wait.... on second thought, I'd probably rather you didn't.
The past couple of months have been, well let's just say it's been a little bit soggy here for awhile. Pair that with clouds of seeds that looked like pretty little spring snow storms and EVERYONE'S suddenly got an infestation of little trees springing up .... everywhere. I'm told they're maple trees. I wouldn't know as the only plants I can recognize without help are venus flytraps.
It was bad enough to have to circle our back deck and yank trees out from around it and even under it, along with the trees we had to pull out of the mud surrounding our little 2 foot circular pond. But you can just imagine the conniption fit that ensued when I discovered a little tree growing INSIDE one of my flox plants. All I can say is that the littles were highly entertained by my behavior and I'm sure any neighbors who may have seen me in action are now completely convinced that I'm the village idiot... and probably a bit unstable.
That's okay. Tomorrow Steve gets to go finish the job I started last week.
He gets to go yank out the rest of the blasted trees that are growing ... check that... THRIVING in our gutters. Apparently we're supposed to be cleaning those out more than once every other year.
The tallest one came up to my waist and I landed in an undignified heap when it finally lost its grip on the soil, but I got it! Just call me Hulkess! wait.... on second thought, I'd probably rather you didn't.
The past couple of months have been, well let's just say it's been a little bit soggy here for awhile. Pair that with clouds of seeds that looked like pretty little spring snow storms and EVERYONE'S suddenly got an infestation of little trees springing up .... everywhere. I'm told they're maple trees. I wouldn't know as the only plants I can recognize without help are venus flytraps.
It was bad enough to have to circle our back deck and yank trees out from around it and even under it, along with the trees we had to pull out of the mud surrounding our little 2 foot circular pond. But you can just imagine the conniption fit that ensued when I discovered a little tree growing INSIDE one of my flox plants. All I can say is that the littles were highly entertained by my behavior and I'm sure any neighbors who may have seen me in action are now completely convinced that I'm the village idiot... and probably a bit unstable.
That's okay. Tomorrow Steve gets to go finish the job I started last week.
He gets to go yank out the rest of the blasted trees that are growing ... check that... THRIVING in our gutters. Apparently we're supposed to be cleaning those out more than once every other year.
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