Just call me Alexander

I had an awesome math teacher in middle school and as my homeroom teacher in 8th grade. Ms. Camden encouraged us to still be a little silly when we were all trying so hard to be grown up NOW.

There were duck-shaped candles on her window ledge, one for each of her students. She reminded any of us that were a little off the mark to "Get your ducks in a row!" We sang "Must be Santa" every Christmas and memorized crazy poems that helped us learn math (Madam I'm Adam), at least I think they did. She was a grandma and told us wonderful stories about her red-headed grandson Ted. She wore skirts every day, which were normally covered with chalk by lunch.

She wasn't a pushover. We were convinced she had X-ray vision because no wad of gum ever survived being noticed in her room. Everyone got called to the board to work out problems and if you didn't have your ducks in a row, she'd let you know it. Nobody acted up in Ms. Camden's class.

But one of the most important thing she did every year was take a break from the real stuff to read "Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day."

Some days I feel like Alexander - when nothing goes right. And then a few of them string together, and I'm ready to yell and scream and stomp my feet. But Ms. Camden and Alexander taught me that I get what I expect, so if I think my day will be bad, it will be.

So I'm done moping about spreading the plague at Thanksgiving and the other plans I've made that have gone awry. Tomorrow is going to be better.

But if it's not, I think I'll move to Australia.

A Turkey Day to remember... or not

 I'm going to try to remember only this about this Thanksgiving.

My adorable children with their equally adorable cousin. Alex thinks his big cousins are the coolest, most interesting things in the world. Nathaniel's pretty enamored with him too. Has been from the beginning.

There is no way either of them were ever that little. Nathaniel would love to still be able to hold Alex like this, but since he's now 8 months and 20 lbs of crawling, cruising, climbing boy, that's a little difficult.

But I digress...

So my kiddos were running around their great-aunt and uncle's home, enjoying the attention of a houseful of people they don't see all the time and I was enjoying the fact they didn't have to be watched like hawks. And they played with EVERYONE.

Which is what came back to bite us.

You did what on my holiday?!

He certainly wasn't acting sick, except that he didn't have much appetite. Who would've thought what he had Wednesday was anymore than a 24-hour bug?

Oh I am never gonna live this holiday down... Of course I paid for it in a way, since I had planned a family birthday party for Nathaniel Saturday afternoon. Only half of the family was up for dinner, or food of any kind, for that matter.

Wow I suck.

Luckily Nathaniel still had a great time and eventually we'll be invited back to family functions.

I am sure in the grand scheme of things this is not the worst Thanksgiving possible, but my ego could sure use some boosting. What's your worst holiday story? Do you have one that takes the cake of infecting no less than 10 people with the yaks?

Please say yes. Not sure I can stand any other answer.

Somebody hates me...

Right when Hubby and I should have been drifting off to a tryptophan-induced sleep last night, there was an internal revolt.

Yes, the bug that started my pie-making day spread and ruined the end of my turkey day. And my Black Friday. Not that we were going to be among the crazies out at the crack of dawn, but anytime we have achance to holiday shop sans kiddos, we're gonna jump on it.

Instead, Granny kept Leah out of trouble while Nathaniel, Hubby and I rotated nap positions. Little man is finally on the mend - I think - but his parents are left with fevers and just general crappiness.

So I'm gonna change my Thanksgiving Day wish, if I could please... I'd be happy if no one ELSE gets sick from this lovely bug and that we can survive a family birthday party tomorrow. That I'm in charge of. Where I have to make ziti for 16 people. And haven't gotten my groceries yet.

Surely I can get a break, here, right?!

Near pie-tastrophy

Another victory for my holiday conquering rampage.

I woke up at 6 this morning to Nathaniel hollering. When I went to his room, he told me he wanted water. I grumbled and got him a drink, but told him not to yell again, he could get his own water.

I had just taken a deep sigh to settle back into bed when I heard The Sound. It's the sound that makes any parent freeze with dread. That Sound that means many, many levels of yuck and turns my stomach.The Sound that makes Lysol, bleach wipes and all things germ-killing my BFFs.

I kicked Hubby on my way out of bed and told him Nathaniel was getting sick. My day began cleaning the bathroom, his clothes and sanitizing any surface I could find. And since I was up and running the washer, and knew I'd never get back to sleep, I decided to start my day.

Hubby ushered Nathaniel back to bed until he left for work and I spent the morning trying to make 2 pies and a 3rd crust, alternating following one child to the bathroom, pulling the other out of whatever she was into and buying her off with snacks. And washing my hands every 30 seconds because as soon as I'd start a food-prep related task, something would pull me away.

But I did it. I made apple and pumpkin pies from scratch and when we arrived at the in-laws', I finished the peanut butter cream in the graham cracker crust. I licked the spatula. It's gooood. Worth the headaches.

I still need lots of practice with Nana's recipes, but I am certain she will be proud of my efforts today. My crusts do not look perfect. I prefer "rustic" or "made with love" or "if you want to criticize, make your own darn pie."

We made the 3-hour-drive with a Tupperware bucket next to Nathaniel's seat that thankfully we didn't need, but he's still not 100 percent yet. Here is hoping he is better in the morning and no one else gets sick too.

For that, I would be truly thankful.

Happy Turkey Day Everyone.

Master of the House

Well it's official. Hubby is smarter than me.

As of bright and early Monday morning, he has a Master of Science in mechanical engineering from a pretty decent school. You may have heard of it - the University of Notre Dame?

Yeah. That's alright.

It's been a long four years. He started right after Nathaniel was born. Now we have a preschooler and an-almost-terrible-two'er. He has a lot more gray hair. I should have more too. *knock on wood*

I have no idea what it will be like to have a husband who's not leaving work for 6+ hours a week and trying to make up for it to meet 50 hours a week all while studying like a madman. The stress level in my house should go down a smidge.

Last weekend, after he had finished his thesis and submitted it to his advisor and review committee we did something unheard of - we watched a movie. Not on TV with commercials while he flipped between other things with a computer on his lap with a paper/work/report/whatever in one window and Facebook in the other. An. Actual. Movie.

And what else? We played board games. Yes, I said board games. He kicked my butt at Sequence (which he always does, even though he swears it's all luck), and I countered with a Scrabble beatdown.

Conclusion from all that? We need new games.

Oh, and I am going to love the next few months.

But of course, this means he's officially smarter than me. Not sure how I feel about that. The whole "I'm not working 'outside the home' and my brain is shriveling up to the size of a raisin" and all... I mean, he makes more than I ever did (or would) AND he's got extra letters to add to his title?

It's a crock, I tell ya. I know he could never survive a week being me, but still...

I guess it's not official official until he walks in May and has that piece of paper in his hand. Until then, I will have to keep beating him at Scrabble. After that, I may be in trouble.

I blinked. What happened?

Wow. I really haven't posted since Wednesday? Eek. Somebody should fire me.

But that's what happens during a concert week. We had two nights of rehearsal and then a concert, so I was just trying to get everyone from point A to point B. No worries - we made it.

Something about those 3 days must've made me think I could conquer the world, because my to-do list has grown exponentially.

I have finished the majority of my Christmas shopping, wrapped almost all of the gifts, gone to the grocery store for what I need to make for Thanksgiving and made another grocery list for Nathaniel's family birthday part Saturday. Oh, and we already have all his birthday presents too.

Whew. That made me tired just typing it. I did all that?!

Before you think, "oh, she makes me sick," I am talking about this because it NEVER HAPPENS. I am a master procrastinator (see Queen of Procrastination), unless I have a hard, fast deadline. Must be a reporter thing. Or a lazy thing. Or a lazy reporter thing.

Just ask the treasurer of our community band. He needed a copy of my driver's license so when I take office as president in January, I would have signing power on our accounts. He asked for it right after nobody else wanted to run I was elected in September, but made the mistake of telling me he wouldn't make the change until December.

I gave it to him last week. Sorry Bill.

So for all intents and purposes I should be a wait-until-Christmas-Eve-and-buy-for-everyone kind of person. But since I have to buy for people in four states (including my own), plus celebrate two birthdays, there is no way I would survive. And neither would our checking account.

Hubby and I started shopping a few weeks ago for Nathaniel's birthday. When I realized I could shop sales early, save money, AND take presents with me at Thanksgiving for family we might not see at Christmas, the organizing began. We still have one big gift for our Christmas plus Leah's birthday to shop for and a few odds and ends for the parents and my aunt, but the grandparents and anyone younger than 6 is done.

I have to admit it feels pretty darn good. Maybe this is the way to survive December. I probably shouldn't say that, because something will explode and send my brilliant plan to the moon.

Until then, I'll start practicing my "I'm ready for Christmas" jig.

I've got time.

A funny

What does this picture say to you?

To me, it's another example of the wild stories yet to come from my creative almost-4-year-old (I'm saying his new age over and over so as to try to wrap my brain around the fact he's getting so big).

One Saturday morning, when the little monsters who live in my house were up with the sun, Nathaniel decided to break out his sister from captivity (oh, how I'll rue the day she learns to open doors). But instead of stampeding into our room, they went into his room and played somewhat quietly. It was awesome. Hubby and I just lay in bed in semi-conscious state and enjoyed their little display of independence.

It was short-lived. Soon we could hear what we thought was the toilet lid slamming over and over. Time for some supervision.

Fast-forward to that night at bed. I notice Nathaniel's toothbrush had something extra. I asked him why he felt the need to put a toothbrush cover on his toothbrush.

He told us very mater-of-factly that if the window was open and a bug got in the house, it would fly into the bathroom and eat his toothbrush.

"So that why I did."

Blink. Wow. I had no words for that.

That meant that the slamming we heard was them rifling through the vanity drawers, which only have bath toys, old paint cards and one rogue travel toothbrush cover in them.

The second time through the story it was a ladybug. I thought maybe he took something from a story at school, so I asked his teacher about it. She had nothing! Well, they did talk about ladybugs, and how sometimes they got into the house, but she assured me there were no children's books about wild, rampant, tooth-brush eating ladybugs.

Maybe that should be the subject my first children's book, so mothers across the country can start the bedtime routine with this.

Cue the music

I'm starting to freak myself out with this whole "organized and semi-productive" thing. Like I've entered the Twilight Zone or something.

I really was okay with my house normally cluttered, nothing in the right place and a mountain of laundry in various stages in my laundry room. 

But after my last post, I admit I did sweep up the hair balls in the corners of our bathroom. I didn't clean the whole thing, but I did give it a lick and a promise. I felt guilty. I'm pretty sure my mom rolled over in her grave after I said that for the 10 people who read my blog all of cyberspace to see. My aunt probably heard about it and crossed herself. I'm a fallen Catholic, but the guilt still sticks.

ANYHOO.

This morning I made a grocery list AND a menu for the week. I'm not sure what came over me. Oh yes, I do. I realized it's concert week, which means my kiddos and I will be eating three dinners by ourselves. I can punt once a week and come up with something, but when it's that often, I kinda feel like I should still pretend to fix actual meals. So we eat things that Hubby doesn't like. My go-to is normally Rachael Ray's Oatmeal Cookie Pancakes (look up the recipe, they are AWESOME. No calories whatsoever, I swear). This week we're still gonna do mac n' cheese, but homemade with squash puree mixed in (shhh, that makes it healthier), fish sticks and coleslaw (so much for healthy) and mini meatball sandwiches.

Oh yeah, I rock. 

NOT.

So we were at Wally World early this morning, grabbing up the essentials. I didn't need anything for tonight, so I was feeling pretty good. I had already planned to try a new recipe, Black Bean Soup, with some homemade cornbread. And I don't mean dry box o' mix. The real thing. 

So when dinner prep time rolls around, I go out to the pantry to grab up the five ingredients the soup needs.

Where was this guy when I needed him?

There. are. no. black. beans. in. my. PANTRY!!

Really?! How is it that my lazy butt cannot see when I am missing a crucial ingredient for whatever it is I'm gonna make?! This crap happens at least once a week.

Sigh. So I made Pioneer Woman's Chicken Spaghetti instead. Tomorrow I will go to the store for black beans and scary neon yogurt for Nathaniel, which we're almost out of too. 

I may have to double check my pantry first. 

Queen of Procrastination

I have a problem. They say that's the first step to recovery. I think it's gonna take a little more than that for me. I'm a lazy, packrat, procrastinator. Deadly combo.

I'm feeling pretty good because I just completed a project that was approximately 4 years in the making. Now should it have taken me that long to get it finished? Since I had the actual work done in 10 minutes, I'm gonna say no.

I have been collecting keychains since high school. Back then, it was "cool" to have them hanging off all the zipper pulls on my backpack. (Cool is a relative term. I have never claimed to be cool.) I would pick up at least one on every trip and had family and friends bringing them back for me as well.

You could hear me coming I had so many clinking and clanking together. So I started getting soft keychains that I could wedge in between the others to try to deaden the noise. I have no idea why I didn't take them all off, but I'm guessing it had something to do with the fact it drove my grandmother crazy. I was a lovely teenager.

I did lighten my load for college because plastic clinking and clanking for a 10-block walk would have driven me up the wall very quickly. The extras got relegated to a gallon Ziploc bag. After college, I was stuck. Now what to do with my collection? I cleared the backpack and filled the bag. It was moved from dorm to apartment to apartment to apartment to apartment and finally to our house.

When we finished our basement and decided to make it fun and college colors ("It looks like Marquette threw up down here." Thanks Erika, that sums it up), we decided there should be a way to display my collection. We got really high-tech with it too - a cork board and some pins. So I picked out a bare spot on the wall and Hubby hung up the board for me.

And there it sat. I have no idea what happened. I get discouraged easily, and since the keychains, pins and board were in three different places in our house,  I decided it was too much work.

Yes, I am a lazy wuss. It comes and goes.

The last week or so I've been itchy. Call it winter blues, reverse nesting, pre-cabin fever, whatever. I've been through all of the kids' toys to weed out for the birthday/Christmas extravaganza, emptied out the black hole of crap that was my nightstand, cleared Leah's closet and room of spare clothes (big and small) so that she can't cover her floor in the first 30 seconds after she wakes up, taken 5 boxes of too-small clothes to the attic queue, put together and ordered Christmas cards and a lot more I'm sure I've forgotten.

(But my bathroom is still frightening. I think the hairballs in the corners are almost big enough to rise up and revolt. So sue me.)

So while I was on a roll today, I did the unthinkable. I found the three items needed for my keychain display and SAT DOWN AND PUT IT TOGETHER.

Here is the finished product.

I know. You're impressed. It's okay. I get that a lot.

I am sure there are newer keychains floating around the house that just got tossed in a drawer or gosh-only-knows-where, but at least now as I find them, all I have to find is the pins and a spot on my board.

Although, it is pretty full by now. Maybe I should just find another Ziploc and start storing for a second board.   Shouldn't take me too long, right?

His and Hers

We joke that Nathaniel is mine and Leah is Craig's. The last few days explains it better than I ever thought I could.

Mommy's boy does NOT like shots

Tuesday after school, I took the kids to the doctor for their flu shots. They have watched me get two allergy shots every week for the last year, so I really hoped it would desensitize them a little. Nathaniel wanted to know why we were going to the doctor and I don't lie to my children, so I told him.

"Oh I don't like shots."

That's an understatement. He started crying when we pulled into the parking lot, likely anticipating what was surely going to be excruciating pain that his mean old mommy was forcing upon him. He cried while I picked him up and held him still and moved to full-on wail after the shot was over.

Leah just looked at him like, "What is your deal?"

She flinched when her shot went into her little leg, said "Ow," and was done.

Nathaniel kept crying until we were halfway home and reminded me three more times that afternoon that he didn't like shots.

Thanks, dude. I remember.

Daddy's girl is pretty tough

This afternoon, Leah took a header off the top off the ladder to the swingset. After I scooped her up and checked that all her limbs worked, we went inside. She was still crying and had a death grip around my neck. After a few minutes of rocking and shushing, she pulled away from me. I was ready to get an ice pack for whatever she said hurt the most, get tylenol, call the doctor, another sane adult to talk me down, anyone!

"Hungry, Mommy, hungry." She rubbed her belly for emphasis.

"You want a snack?"

"Yup."

"Okay, let's get a snack."

She wolfed down a cereal bar and asked for more. I told her to wait a little while until Daddy got home for dinner. She was okay with that and went about her business.

Fall? What fall?

Oh that girl is gonna give me gray hair...

The shoe on the other foot

In my former life, I asked questions for a living. I was paid (granted, not much) to be inquisitive and relentless.

Now, I'm usually the one deflecting 1,000 questions a day from my oh-my-gosh-is-he-really-almost-4-year-old. His little sister isn't far behind. Her vocab is building daily. I may need to invest in earplugs. Soon.

But tonight, I got to sit back and watch my peers answer questions from my inquisitive, relentless friend and coworker. But really, it's hard to be relentless when surrounded by 5 moms and 10 screaming kids under the age of 6.

I know. I can't strike fear in anything any more. Not even the dog. Or a bush. I've tried. Trust me.

But my friends got to be interviewed for the local newspaper and magazine, and for once, instead of keeping my opinions to myself, I was allowed to speak.

When I piped in, my friend kept scribbling away in her notebook. Then she stopped, pen in the air.

"Am I allowed to quote you?" she said.

We reporters are supposed to be invisible. Flies on the wall. But she was in a tough spot, interviewing the moms group I help run.

"Eh, I'm the editor," she said, and kept going.

The bulk of what she writes about us will focus on everybody else, but there's a chance that I will get to be the subject for a sentence. A first for me. You'd think that would be old hat, getting my name in the paper, after working as a reporter for 7 years, not counting 4 years in college.

No way, man, that is cool. I'm almost famous now.

I may change my mind after I see the pictures she took.

Test pattern

I didn't blog last night. I meant to. I was thinking about it on my way home from band rehearsal, while enjoying a Culver's cone (Pumpkin Pecan - yum).

I came in the house, gratefully paid the babysitter and sat down to enjoy a little nerd TV with the hubby.

And that's when my mind went blank.

It was almost instantaneous. We both settled down with laptops in hand and as soon as mine started up, I was empty. Like the test patterns my mom claims she and her siblings used to watch on their "fancy, new-fangled TV." Yes, my family is that old.

Brain BK (Before Kids)

I've always been easily distracted (squirrel!!), but now that I have kids I am quite sure it's gotten worse. Is it because it takes higher brain function to balance children, housework, "real" work, and what remains of my social life? (HA!) Or is it because it takes so little brain power to wipe butts, noses and faces that my brain is slowly shriveling up from lack of use?

I got a Nintendo DS for Christmas 2 years ago and the Brain Age game. I got pretty good at it and actually had my brain "trained" to be younger than the calendar says I am. But then I had another baby. 'Nuff said. I still play other games occasionally, but Brain Age stays in the case. Honestly, I'm embarrassed to know what it would say.

Brain AK (After kids)

So the new strategy for staving off brain atrophy is to do the daily crossword puzzle. Sometimes I let Hubby help, but most of the time I can have almost the whole darn thing filled in before he even gets his paws on it. It helps that they use the same clues over and over, so I remember the weird ones.

The Sunday puzzle is the exception. I NEED help with that one. I think it's the size of the thing that just has me flustered. I can never find where the squares are fast enough and then I forget what clue I was even trying to answer. I'm still working on this Sunday's, and I handed it to Hubby last night for help. I'm not sure why I even tried to work on it with my empty-brain syndrome, but clearly I wasn't thinking on many levels.

"You didn't know this one? C'mon honey."

Gee thanks.

"You left me a lot of softballs."

Hear that thud? Self-esteem, hitting the floor.

"Who's Jacob's wife?"

Uh, if I knew, don't you think I would've filled it in? Look in my ear. I bet you see the answer there.

"I don't think this one is right. I'm gonna erase it."

You go right ahead, sweetie. You have to sleep sometime. Until then, I'll just enjoy the quiet humming in my head.

Hey! Squirrel!

Blah

I will never understand why I always seem to be sick for the random nice days thrown into the blech parts of the year. So instead of enjoying a nice, sunny afternoon, Nathaniel watched cartoons and played with Legos while I crashed on the couch, trying to kick whatever germs he brought home for me from school.

He seems to have it too, but little man inherited enough of his Daddy's immune system that it's barely fazing him. He's coughed. I had a fever last night and this morning, a runny nose, sinus congestion AND a cough. And the only cold medicine we have in the house expired last month.

Sigh.

At least the warmth is supposed to stick around for most of the week. I am really not ready to be stuck inside with my rabid animals darling children all day. Luckily that 90-degree July Saturday when we decided to insulate the attic (not a fun chore) should pay off when I can put coats on the kids and tell them to run in the garage instead of my living room. We've done it a few times, and now that Leah can actually ride Nathaniel's old tricycle (yes, at 22 months!) it will only get better.

Curse you...

It's not a great day. Here's why:

1) It's November. I just realized this. I mean, I knew that November comes after October, but I got a letter in the mail saying I'm in the pool for jury duty for ALL of 2011. I'm thinking, gosh, they're on top of things, 2011 is a long way off. Blink. Blink. Schnikes no it isn't! Crap.

2) I'm in the 2011 jury duty pool. I mentioned that I work for a newspaper twice and put my top fav shows as CSI and NCIS on the questionnaire. Think that'll discourage them?

3) My favorite metereologist (with whom I feel I can be on a first-name basis with), Rick, not only said a four-letter word (S-N-O-W) in his forecast last night, he said something that is worse than a four-letter word - a 14-letter phrase (L-A-K-E  E-F-F-E-C-T  S-N-O-W). Curse you Rick Mecklenburg!

4) Because it's November and it's gonna snow every day between now and May, I had to buy my kids snow boots today. Man is that depressing.

5) Spent our after dinner time last night cleaning out my van and it still stinks. Like I don't even know what. And we get to road trip in it this weekend. Awesome.

6) My 3-year-old's favorite answer to every question I ask him about preschool: "No. I don't know."

And he wore his shirt backwards today and his awesome Mommy didn't notice. I asked him about it when he got home.

Me: Hey buddy, did you know your shirt is on backwards?

N: No. I don't know.

Stellar.

More SS fun

Think this is still my fav though...

OK this is cool

Occasionally being forced to watch children's shows all day isn't so bad.

Why bother?

I am a rare breed. A minority. A blue in a red town, in a red town, in a red state. Yes, I still went to the local church to fill in my little circles with a ball point pen (no fancy 'lectric votin' 'round these parts). But as usual, my vote didn't count. Mostly because my husband cancelled me out. Another election day exercise in futility.

Hangover Monday

Mondays really bite. 

I wake up in the morning and survey the state of my house and my children and I feel like I woke up on somebody else's couch with a furry taste in my mouth.

Not that I've ever done that. It was usually my own couch.

This weekend we had "guests" and by that I mean people who don't normally live here but are still responsible for finding their own towels and food, as needed. And the final magnet ball game of the year. And trick or treating. But no, I wasn't on a bender. 

Yeah, today was particularly furry.

My kids were missing their playmates (my friends' 2 yr old and 9 mo old). It showed quite early.

This is how my day started, once I collected Leah from her room and heard Nathaniel holler from bed that he was awake (charming habit he's picked up from his little sister). He wandered down after about 10 minutes in a white and blue long sleeved shirt, blue and orange shorts and red and white train socks. 

N: Mommy, can you play with me?Me: Buddy, I'm pouring your apple juice. Can we get breakfast first?

N: OK

After a bowl of dry Cheerios in front of 'toons. (Again, not my finest morning)

N: Mommy, can you play with me?

Me: What do you want to play?

N: I don't know. 

Me: Why don't you see if Leah wants to play with people? (Little People)

N: No.

Leah wanders over to the box of Little People and I think that maybe she'll entice him away so I can get laundry load 1 of 400 in the washer.

N: Leah, you want to play people with me?

L: No. Mommy people.

Sigh.

I did sit and play people. And tractors. And blocks. And Legos. And we watched 3 episodes of  "the food guy" (Good Eats) when my brain was starting to get mushy. Then thank goodness it was time for lunch and Sesame Street. Once Leah was napping, it was time for Mickey's Christmas Carol and Dinosaur Train. And more Legos. And more blocks.

Death by laundry? I believe it

And somewhere in there I washed 3 loads of clothes and dried them twice each (curse you craptastic dryer), folded two baskets, and made a dinner that I loathe but my family loves (Thank goodness for Chinese with the girls).

Once the princess woke up, she made quick work of my nerves. She stole the bathroom stool to vault over the side of the couch, opened up the 300-disc CD player twice, emptied one shelf of my bookcase and disassembled her potty chair. 

It was all I could do to keep from sprinting out the door when the Hubby got home. But now I have freshly painted toes and a belly full of sesame chicken.

So I'll be ready to start it all again tomorrow.