Monday, February 27, 2006

How Quick Witted are You?

Here's a fun quiz I got from Peaches. It's quick and easy.

G'won! Try it!


We have been having a discussion about vocabulary around here lately and how words sometimes don't necessarily mean what you think they mean.

Case in point: Bear asked what the word "diet" meant. SugarPlum started to explain to him that a diet was where people eat less food so that they can lose weight and get skinny. I had to clarify that that wasn't exactly true, but that it was one example of a diet. A diet, basically, is what a person regulary eats, or what selection of foods he or she is consuming. This may or may not result in weight loss.

For instance, I am presently on the "Eat a Box of Girl Scout Cookies Each Night While You Sit on Your Ass and Play on the Computer" diet. And I haven't lost one single pound.

Sunday, February 26, 2006

Why the US Air Force Sucks Rocks

Because SD finally got his report date for his remote assignment. I'm not whining about his going remote. We made that choice together. It is getting me & the SugarBabies back to God's Country (TEXAS!).

But his report date? Is my birthday.

Now, that's just mean.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

I think Raffi would be proud

The following is Bug's (age 2 1/2 ) rendition of Raffi's Baby Beluga board book. It helps if you know the song, but it's not essential. I thought I'd better get it down before I forget it!

Baby Galuga ina dee blue sea
Smim so why-old
Smim so fee (das da mommy galuga? and das da baby galuga?)

Heaben above ana sea beelow
Ana little white whay-ole ona go (look, Mommy! the lah-tor's squirtin'!)

Baby Galuga, bayyy-bee galuga
Izza lah-tor wahm? Is your mama home
Wif you sooo happeeeeeee? (she's gonna give him sugar, Mommy!)

Way down yondoor where da doffins play
Where you dieeeve and splash all day
Waves roll in and da waves roll out (whas dat, Mommy? seals?)
See da lah-tor squirtin' outa your spout (hahaha! he squirted the walrus, Mommy!)

Bayy-be galuga, OH! bayyyy-be galuga
Sing you little song, sing for all your friends (OH! hims got a boat!)
We liiiike to heooor yoooou! (look! a polar bear! and dassa narwhal!)

When it's dark and you're home and feed (shhhhh! dey sleepin')
Curl up snug in you lahtah-bed (why doesn't that galuga close hims eyes, Mommy?)
Moon is shinin and da stars are out.
Good night liddle whay-ole, good night.(lotsa stars!)

Baay-be galuga, oh baaay-be galuga
With tomowwohs sun, another day's begun
You'll soon be way-king. (ooooh! him's happy!)

Baby galuga inna dee blue sea,
Smim so why-old, smim so fee
Heaben above and da sea beelow
Ana little white whay-ole ona go
You just a little white whay-ole ona go!

Bomp bomp.

(look! dey sayin' "bye bye!" ::closes book:: Dere's Waffi! He gots him's guitar! Waffi can play guitar? I play guitar too! PEEEEEZE???")

Tuesday, February 21, 2006

I don't wanna go to work. Oh wait. I LIVE at work.

Lately, this whole child-rearing thing has been wearing me down. My kids are at such major "water-shed" stages in their development right now (I know, I know, when are they NOT??) and I don't want to do something "wrong" and screw them up for life. I don't want to be sitting at dinner in twenty years hearing one of them tell me all about how "my therapist says that if you just hadn't___________I'd be fine." I'm sure you know what I mean.

I feel like I should have a leg up on this parenting stuff. I practically have a degree in it. My degree is in child development (Early Childhood, if you want to get picky). So, logically, I should be able to look at my kids and see that what they are doing is "developmentally appropriate" (those were the buzz words when I was in school anyway). The thing is, kids never, ever use logic. Nor, interestingly enough, do they read those child development textbooks, dangit.

So, SugarPlum, for example, always seems to have taken a look at those books and said, "HA!! I don't think so!" and done her own thing. She didn't ever really roll over as a baby, so I thought for sure she was developmentally delayed. Except that she was sitting up at five months. And talking. I think the child came out of the womb speaking. "Mother, it was terribly crowded in there and I can't believe you didn't give me anything else to play with. And what was with all the Skittles, anyway??"

Honestly, by twelve months she was speaking fairly clearly and by eighteen months in complete sentences. "I see Elmo over there!!"

And now? It appears she has taken a look at the "nine-year-old" section and decided that, well, that is not exactly for her. She is jumping headlong into the "teen" section of the book, complete with eye rolls and such profound, dramatic, mommy-guilt inducing statements as "You don't care what I have to say! You don't even love me!!" Oh yeah, she's that good. She already has mood swings down to an art form. Heaven help us when the hormones really start to flow.

Bear is just a completely opposite child. I don't know if it is because he is a boy, or because he is the second born, or the middle child or just who he is. (I have a nature/nurture debate with myself weekly over these children of mine.) This child rolled over at five weeks of age and was crawling by five months. We finally enclosed our entire living room with one of those expandable play yard/gate things just to contain him and keep him safe.

He didn't talk much though. And having raised the future president of Toastmasters International for four years prior to his arrival, his lack of speech concerned me. Actually, he, at four and a half, still doesn't speak as clearly as I think he should and he will begin speech therapy soon, but he is much better than I had feared.

My biggest challenge with Bear, actually, is remembering that he is almost a textbook example of a four and a half year old, and every other age he has been! Sometimes it's as if he reads "What to Expect the Whatever-the-Heck-Age-They-Are-Now Years" or whatever parenting book is handy, and says "Oh! It says here that when I don't get my way, that it's normal for me to throw myself on the floor and kick and scream. Gosh, why haven't I been doing THAT up till now? What a great idea!" or maybe "Hmmmmm. Night terrors?? Those sound fun! That will be sure to freak Mommy out!"

He has also always been very emotional, wearing his feelings on his sleeve. This is wonderful when he loves you. He hugs and kisses and tells you how much he loves you. And when he is sad, it will break your heart. When he was three, I found him sitting in his room with a pitiful look on his face & asked him what was wrong. He told me, "My a sad boy, Mommy." Stick. a. knife. in. my. heart. But when he is angry....look out. My SugarBear turns into a Grizzly Bear! There is yelling and screaming and hitting and kicking and wailing and gnashing of teeth get the picture. It's not pretty. But, it all falls under the umbrella of "developmentally appropriate."

It's hard to remember that when you are being pummelled by a four-year-old. And just because it is "developmentally appropriate" doesn't make it okay. Part of being a parent is teaching your children ways to manage their feelings and express them appropriately. In our house we say that it's okay to be angry, it is NOT okay to hurt people (physically or emotionally) or to break things. We all have feelings and we must be allowed to express them; otherwise people get sick. But kids must be taught HOW to express them.

I think that this is where many many parents fall down on the job. They hear phrases like "developmentally appropriate" and have one of two reactions. First, many people say that it is a bunch of BS. That kids are supposed to do what their parents tell them, end of story. That the only thing that is "appropriate" is obeying what you are told to do. And that "if I had screamed and thrown a fit like that, I'd have gotten my ass beat. And then I'd never do it again." Yeah, you're right. Kids should obey their parents. And I'll let bet that if you got a good beating that you never did whatever it was you got that beating for again. In front of your parents, anyway. But it didn't keep you from having feelings, just from expressing them. Oh, and how is your ulcer, by the way?

The second reaction parents have to "developmentally appropriate" is to abdicate all responsibility. This makes me crazy. I know that you see this all the time. The children running wild or throwing HUGE temper tantrums in restaurants, department stores, grocery stores on airplanes, in movie theaters. And if someone dares to question the behavior, the parents look at you like you are insane, shrug their shoulders and and say, "He's three! What are you going to do??"

I'll qualify this by saying that I am not talking about when you are in line at the grocery store and little Billy is screaming for a candy bar and you are ignoring it. Because it is the only thing you can do. Any attention you give to that is only going to make it worse.

I am talking about on the playground when your little monster child has pushed mine off of the rocking dinosaur because he wants to ride it now and all you say is, "Now Dylan! That was unkind!" but still let Dylan stay on the dinosaur. NOPE. That is letting Dylan get away with murder. Yes, it was "developmentally appropriate" for two-year-old Dylan to do what he did. But, now, your responsibility is to grab Dylan from the rocking dinosaur and help him learn that we wait our turn and that shoving is not okay.

See, I am really quite good with other people's children. Well, hypothetical children anyway. But when it comes to my own, I am a disaster.

In our house right now, Bug's breakfast has become a bit of a production. He wants his cereal in the Blues Clues bowl (or the Tonka bowl, or the Veggie Tales bowl...). BUT!! If it is in the Blues Clues bowl, he must have the Blues Clues spoon. And if the Blues Clues spoon is dirty, well then damn it all because breakfast is no good and now he must make everyone pay!

Other mornings the issue is that he wants, for example oatmeal...but you mustn't stir it! Have you lost your mind?? Why on earth would you ever STIR oatmeal?? Now he must go kick the dog! All because Mommy stirred the oatmeal. So then he has to have a time-out. Followed by a short discussion about why kicking is not okay. Are you beginning to see why I let SD handle breakfast most mornings? And why I am desperate for a nanny while he is gone??

A point?? Did I have a point? Oh. This parenting thing. Setting limits. Consequences. It is hard. And yet it is so vitally necessary. We really don't get a lot of do-overs.

But, I have a funny feeling that sometime, twenty years from now, you will hear ME say, "Yeah? Well, you can tell your therapist that I said he can shove it."

Next session: Natural and Logical Consequences! be on time or no chair for you!

Monday, February 20, 2006

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Twelve years ago today.... (now with pictures!)

he done good, girls!

Twelve years ago today....

I married the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life.

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man who made me the center of his universe from our very first date.

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man who put a promise ring on my finger on our third date.

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man who cried with me and held me and reassured me after I revealed something so terrible I was certain that nobody would ever want to be my friend, much less marry me.

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man who is like oxygen to me. Who, even in the moment of his worst betrayal, I couldn't imagine my life without him, because his presence is essential to my survival.***

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man who loves me like no one has ever loved me.

Twelve years ago today....

I married the man that God put on this earth to be my husband, the father of my children.

Twelve years ago today....

I officially became the happiest woman in the world.

I love you so very much. These past few months have been the most gut wrenching, horrifying, yet satisfying and enlightening of our whole marriage. If feel like we are in a better place now than we have ever been. This upcoming year apart will be beyond difficult, but we will be fine. Just know that at the end I will be there with open arms.
I can't wait for the next six dozen (or so) years!!!
**But if you screw up like that again, buddy, it'll be a different story!

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Your advice requested

I need a new laptop. Mine isn't that old. I got it in May. However, in its short life it has suffered many indignities, the last of which was me falling down the stairs whilst carrying it. I shielded it as if it were my baby *ahem* and yet...

So now, it has a huge crack in the screen, the touch pad doesn't work (which isn't that big of a deal, because I like using my wireless mouse better anyway), and the "t" and "w" keys are missing (as Bug likes to point out to me every. single. day.).

The good news is that our insurance will cover the cost to repair or replace the laptop. Of course, to repair anything on a laptop is pretty much as expensive as it is to replace the whole damn thing. I mean, you can't just get a new "W" key. They must replace the entire keyboard. Crazy, that.

The bad news is that they need an estimate and I may have to ship the thing off to Toshiba for a month ::hyperventilates again:: in order to get that estimate. SD took it to a place in town and got one from them. We are hoping that will do.

In the meantime, we are looking at new laptops. I have been happy with my little Toshiba M45. I know where all the buttons are. It does everything I need for it to do. But I could also be persuaded to move on to a different machine.

Do you have any recommendations? I'm looking for a decent machine, less than $1500, that I can blog on. That's probably the most complicated thing I do. Oh, and we'll probably attach the webcam to it so that we can talk to SD while he is gone for a year. SugarBabies got to see their daddy somehow!!

Thanks for your help!!

Dating in 1957

Okay, I'll admit it. I got this in an email, but it is too funny not to share with all of you. Have a great weekend!

It's the summer of 1957 and Harold goes to pick up his date, Peggy Sue. Harold's a pretty hip guy with his own car and a duck tail hairdo.

When he goes to the front door, Peggy Sue's mother answers and invites him in. "Peggy Sue's not ready yet, so why don't you have a seat?" she says.

That's cool. Peggy Sue's mother asks Harold what they're planning to do.

Harold replies politely that they will probably just go to the malt shop or to a drive-in movie.

Peggy Sue's mother responds, "Why don't you kids go out and screw? I hear all the kids are doing it."

Naturally this comes as quite a surprise to Harold and he says "Wha...aaat?"

"Yeah," says Peggy Sue's mother, "We know Peggy Sue really likes to screw; why, she'd screw all night if we let her!"

Harold's eyes light up and he smiles from ear to ear.

Immediately, he has revised the plans for the evening. A few minutes later, Peggy Sue comes downstairs in her little poodle skirt with her saddle shoes, and announces that she's ready to go.

Almost breathless with anticipation, Harold escorts his date out the front door while Mom is saying, "Have a good evening kids," with a small wink for Harold.

About 20 minutes later, a thoroughly disheveled Peggy Sue rushes back into the house, slams the door behind her and screams at her mother:

"Dammit, Mom! The Twist! The Twist! It's called The Twist!"

Thursday, February 16, 2006

Weally Walt! What Were you Thinking?

Sunday, the kids watched Fantasia 2000. That was actually the first movie SugarPlum ever saw and it was at the OmniMax, right after it came out. She was three years old. She loved that movie. But we hadn't watched it in a long time. All three kids really liked it. Bear's favorite part was the Noah's Ark story with Donald Duck set to Elgar's Pomp & Circumstance. The boys have a bit of an issue with the section set to The Rite of Spring Suite by Stravinsky.

Today, on the way home from school, he was telling me that he wanted to watch "that movie with the Ark part" during his rest time.

"BUT!" he exclaimed, "you know the part at the end? The part with the volcano? That fweaks me out!!"

Four things Meme *redux*

Sleeping Mommy tagged me with this. I just did it a few weeks ago, though, so here it is again. Okay, so I changed a couple of answers. Just to keep things interesting.

Four jobs you've had in your life:

1. Kindergarten Teacher
2. Waitress at El Chico (fajita skillets make burn marks on your neck that look like hickeys. That's my story & I'm sticking to it)
3. Shoe Salesgirl at Lady Footlocker (those green & white striped double-knit polyester"referee" shirts were oh-so attractive and comfortable)
4. Wet Nurse (okay just here, for my kids, but I really think I'm due some compensation!)

Four Movies that you would watch over and over:

1. An Affair to Remember
2. Cheaper by the Dozen (the original)
3. Shawshank Redemption
4. The Big Chill

Four TV shows you love to watch:

1. Boston Legal (James Spader is yummy here!)
2. Project Runway (put a bunch of designers in a room together & watch the sparks fly!)
3. Grey's Anatomy (Dr. McDreamy. *sigh*)
4. Sex & the City

Four places you have been on vacation:

1. Italy
2. Belgium
3. Turkey
4. Jamaica

Four websites you visit daily: (other than my blogroll??)

1. Hotmail
2. Gmail
3. (hey! we're moving in a few months!)
4. The Knot (my two best friends are getting married, remember!)

Four of your favorite foods:

1. Knorr Spinach Dip
2. Lettuce Wraps from California Pizza Kitchen (chicken & shrimp ones)
3. Shrimp Creole
4. Nacho Cheese Doritos

Four places you would rather be right now:

1. Someplace
2. warmer
3. than
4. Ohio!

I'm not tagging anyone tonight. It would require more effort than I have energy!

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

Some last minute Valentine shopping advice for you fellows out there.....

Thinking of getting her......

Something to wear?

bad choice

good choice

A bag, perhaps??

good choice

bad choice

A CAR!! There's an idea! Careful though, this one can be tricky!

good choice

bad choice

Monday, February 13, 2006

I kept pinching myself but it was all for real!!

So, Bear tells me that for his birthday this year (which is at the end of May) that he wants "a real bacuum cleaner, Mommy. So I can bacuum up all the stuff in mine and Bug's room and in SugarPlum's room and even down here in the living room."

Then SugarPlum says, "Oh! Can I have a good mop? I like mopping!"

And Bug is shouting, "I sweep! I sweeeeeep!"

Now, this is the kind of plan I can get behind. I guess that all of those "make-your-wish-now-and-pass-this-on-to-eleventeen-friends-right-this-second-so-it-will-come-true" emails are finally working!

:::Hello, Dyson factory?.....::

A Valentines Giggle

SugarDaddy sent me this in an email and it made me laugh. Personally, I don't understand guys getting women lingerie for Valentines Day. Really, the sexy nightie is more for the guy's benefit, right? SD knows that he can never go wrong with diamonds. If he's smart, he'll play it safe this year. Especially this year.

Anyway, enjoy!

Happy Valentine's Day, Dear.
Here's Your Mesh Body Stocking.
By Ernie Witham

Christmas is officially over. Today I dragged the tree with its fifteen remaining needles out to the curb, tied the Christmas lights into one great big ball like I found them, and dumped the odd remains of two ham-a-ramas and a jalapeño cheese log into the cat's dish, which caused him to immediately jump up onto the telephone stand and look up the address for the Humane Society's self-admittance wing.
But it's done. Kaput. Finé. The yuletide has ebbed. And not a moment too soon, because now it's time for . . . Valentine's Day.
Not to worry though, because this year I'm ready. Last February I was fooled by the pact my wife and I made that we weren't going to bother with Valentine's Day. What I thought she meant was that she didn't expect a gift. What she really meant was that only a chump would think it was okay not to get his wife - who was put on this earth for no greater reason than to serve her husband's every need, although said husband could count on serving certain needs himself until further notice - a gift.
And even though it was quite a bonding experience camping out in my backyard in February with my brother-in-law, who had wondered why everyone was buying flowers on Washington's birthday, I think I'd rather spend the rainy season inside this year.
So I grabbed the garbage bag full of Christmas cards and wrapping paper to drop off at the local landfill and headed off to the Hallmark store - that magical place full of those beautiful poetic musings that women love. I settled on a card with a romantic, soft-focus photograph of a young couple laughing and hugging in a wooded glen, taken no doubt just seconds before they realized they were standing waist deep in poison oak.
Then I headed across the mall to the lingerie store. The place was mobbed with guys all holding intimate apparel, trying to picture their wives in them. One guy was holding his selection upside down wondering, I suspect, why the thing had snaps at the neck. I was about to explain when a saleslady approached wearing a button that said "All Our Bras Are Half Off." She looked frazzled. Her hair was mussed. Her makeup was smeared, and she had bags under her eyes.
"Let me guess," she said. "Gift for the wife?"
Before I could compliment her on such a quick assessment of the situation, she moved me to one side and yelled over my shoulder. "Please don't mix the satin panties up with the silk ones."
Two guys, who were each holding a dozen pair of panties, smiled sheepishly, like they just got caught during a midnight raid at the female dorms.
"I hate Valentine's Day," she muttered. Then with a forced smile she asked, "So, what did you have in mind?"
"I dunno. Something sexy, I guess."
"Novel idea. What's her favorite color?"
"Uhh . . . brown?"
"Brown? Brown's her favorite color?"
"You don't know, do you?"
"Well, our cat is gray and white and she likes him a lot." I thought briefly about the cat and wondered if he'd still be there when I got home. Meanwhile, the saleslady moved me to one side again.
"Sir. Siiirrrr."
A large, bald man in a three-piece suit glanced up.
"It's Velcro," she said. "As you have no doubt observed, it will make that same sound over and over."
She shook her head, turned her attention back to me and was about to speak when a tall, thin guy approached us wearing a teddy over his T-shirt and boxer shorts.
"Whaddya think?" he asked.
I thought the red was a little too bright for his complexion and was about to say so when the saleslady jumped up onto a clearance counter and addressed the entire store.
"Okay. Here's what we are going to do. I want every one of you to take out the amount of money you want to spend and step up to the counter. I will hand you an item that costs that amount of money. Do not worry about the color or size. Your wives will be in here to exchange your gifts tomorrow. Now, who's first?"
We all hesitated. She held up her watch.
"The mall closes in fifteen minutes, gentlemen, and they are predicting a particularly cold February this year."
I thought I caught a whiff of damp tent. Then I quickly took out my wallet and got in line.

Friday, February 10, 2006

More Batshit Crazy Fun!

She speaks!!! And I quote(you can also see this in the comment section of the last post if you like, I have no plans to delete it):

In all honesty, I have no interest in your "Candyland". I played this in 1st grade and have no need to continue. The only reason I went on was to see your rambling post about me and it was gone. As for the 2 hours, wrongly mistaken. I was away from my office for a meeting and it was left on.

As for me being crazy, yes I am pissed but not crazy. Your husband decides to infilitrate my family and impose himself in my last two vacations and you don't think I have a right to be pissed?? Get out of Candyland and come back to reality.

All my love,

"Batshit Crazy Sister"

PS: I love my new nickname "

Well, Batshit Crazy Sister, that's all fine and good. But it's not entirely truthful now, is it?? See, not only can I see how long you were on my site, I can see what you were doing and where exactly you went for the two hours you were there. So let's take a look, shall we??

9th February 2006
02:55:02 PM mommy
9th February 2006
02:55:31 PM
9th February 2006
02:57:06 PM
9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
03:00:10 PM
9th February 2006
03:00:19 PM
9th February 2006
03:02:17 PM
9th February 2006
03:13:04 PM
9th February 2006
03:13:56 PM referring link
9th February 2006
03:15:06 PM
9th February 2006
03:24:32 PM
9th February 2006
03:27:46 PM
9th February 2006
03:30:52 PM
9th February 2006
03:33:40 PM
9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
04:28:11 PM
9th February 2006
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9th February 2006
04:32:33 PM in law&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&
9th February 2006
04:33:13 PM in law&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&
9th February 2006
04:34:40 PM in law&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&
9th February 2006
04:35:09 PM in law&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&
9th February 2006
04:35:18 PM in law&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&
9th February 2006
04:35:35 PM
9th February 2006
04:35:59 PM referring link
9th February 2006
04:36:06 PM
9th February 2006
05:02:03 PM mommy&ie=UTF-8&ui=blg&bl_url=&x=33&y=5

I understand that this is lengthy, and I apologize to any of my other readers that think that this is overkill, but these are all of the pages visited and all of the blog searches used looking for the post you were trying to find yesterday in the two hours you were here. So, no, you didn't leave your computer on my page and then go to a meeting. Care to advise on reality again, dear?

Since I am nice, I left off the part of the page that had your IP address and place of work, because, trust me, people will be begging me for it. The funny thing about that other post is that I didn't ramble on about you. You got one mention. Really only half a mention, because I just wanted you (and Chester) to stop calling here. But look at you now!! You're famous!! Lucky you.

But, honey, I live and breathe reality. And my reality is that I am focusing on MY life and my marriage and not worrying about other people's. I call my world Candyland not because it is a fantasy, but because all things considered, I have a pretty sweet life. I have sweet, beautiful, healthy children and a sweet wonderful husband who loves me. Just for the record, (once again) my marriage is happier and healthier than it has been in a long, long time.

So you can worry about somone else's life. We are fine here. This is the last you will see of your batshit crazy self on my blog. This place is about me & my family. Not about you and your sad, messed up, dysfunctional life.

PS I'm glad you like your new name. Of the three nicknames, it was my favorite! And obviously, it suits you.

Please tell me no...

Tell me. Did I just see YOKO ONO on the Olympic Opening Ceremonies?

What sort of alternate universe am I living in?

Moving on......

Thursday, February 09, 2006

Attention Batshit Crazy Sister

I saw you here earlier today. I know you were on for half an hour (no, wait! You came back! Now it was a total of over two hours!) and that you were at work all the while. I know what post you are looking for but you won't find it. For reasons that are really none of your business, that particular post has been taken down. It has not, however, been destroyed. If you would like a copy of the post, feel free to email me and I will gladly send you a copy of it.

Watch what you say, though. I reserve the right to publish any nasty comments right here on my website.

All my love,

Sugar Mommy

Great, another game I can't win

You know, there are the nights that all three of my kids sleep peacefully, all through the night. Those are few, but they do occur and as the kids get older, they occur more frequently, thank goodness. Then lately, I will have a night where one of the kids (usually one of the boys) is sick and needs me several times in the night, either for comfort - medicine, rocking, etc,- or simply for reassurance when he is feeling bad. I don't resent that so much. It's part of being a mommy and I like that I can help them feel better.

Other nights however, the kids are just restless for whatever reason. Maybe it's the moon, I don't know. Those nights, I seem to be in and out of their rooms all night and sometimes I don't even leave the boys' room. Bear will have a bad dream and need some snuggles and once I finally get him calmed down and back to sleep, I start to tiptoe out of the room. Just as I reach for the doorknob, I hear, "Mooooommmmy!" coming from Bug's crib. So I try just hugging him and getting him to lay back down, but of course that never works. So I start the lullabye CD over again and rock him for a couple of songs.

And just about the time I lay him back in the crib, I hear Bear, "Mommy?"


And so it goes all. night. long. I get one kid down, another one pops up.

It's not really sleep so much as a nighttime game of Whack-a-Mole.

That mallet sure would come in handy, though.

Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Didja ever wonder...

...just who in the heck would go to Meijer at 12:30 at night to buy tennis balls and nothing else?? In the middle of winter??

Well, wonder no longer.

Why? You want to know why someone would go buy tennis balls and nothing else in the middle of the night? Boy you're nosy.

Well, maybe, juuuuust maybe, it's because way back in September she found a great deal on a down filled parka for her daughter on Land's End Overstocks. And perhaps that lovely down-filled parka was starting to look a little...dingy after several snowfalls and months of being worn to school every. single day. And maybe this mommy looked at the cleaning instructions and saw, to her delight that it said "Machine wash warm, tumble dry low with clean tennis balls."

However, maybe this particular mommy is a little dorky and thought to herself, "Well, I'm sure if I have other stuff in the dryer with it, it will be fine." So, after 45 minutes in the dryer, she removes all of the snow pants, coats, mittens socks, etc, that are toasty arm and clean and then she pulls out said parka. Which is now really just a coat-shaped sack of wet feathers.

So, the mommy begins a mad search of the house for tennis balls. All the while knowing that neither Pete Sampras nor Martina Navratilova live in or near her home. Meanwhile, B2B, who has been on the phone with the mommy, is laughing her ass off (which is really not a nice thing to do to someone who is flying all the way down to see you TWICE just because you decided to get married!).

By now it is 12:30 and she gets off the phone, puts on her sweats, sneakers, her parka (did I mention how freakin' cold it is??) and hat and runs to Meijers to purchase a dozen tennis balls. And nothing else. Why yes, the check-out lady did give her a strange look. How did you know?

She arrives home a few moments later, and with great relief, takes the parka from the washer (where she ran it back through a rinse & spin cycle to separate any feathers that might have dried together) and puts it in the dryer with all twelve tennis balls. Can you say cacophony? She then sits down for a moment, thinking that this will soon be over, but something tells her to wait before going to bed.

Did you know that some newer dryers have a sensor that tells when the clothes are supposedly dry? Well, this mommy's dryer has one. And it kept shutting off, only the coat wasn't dry so much as a mass of warm feathers. So every few minutes for about three hours, she had to go into the laundry room, pull the coat out, fluff the feathers out and restart the dryer. Finally, at about 4:30, the coat was back to its original fluffiness. And SugarPlum could safely and warmly walk to school this morning. And the mommy could finally go to bed.

And of course this was the first night that all three of her children have slept peacefully all night in weeks. Who ever said that God doesn't have a sense of humor? *yawn*

But the mommy blames you, internet! Why, oh why didn't you warn her? Why didn't you tell her that down coats are a bitch to dry so take it to the dry cleaners for crying out loud and short of that at least make sure it's in the dryer (with tennis balls!) by dinnertime so that you can get to bed at a decent time but honestly just don't buy a down parka in the first place because they are nothing but a big pain in the ass!

But really, internet. You have to watch those run-on sentences. That's just embarrassing.

Monday, February 06, 2006

We're Going to the Promised Land!!

Sorry for the teaser last post. I've been having a hard time deciding how to blog about this. I knew when I married my husband that I would be leaving my beloved Texas. This was not a big surprise. I was not happy about it, but this was the man I loved, the man that God gave me to marry and spend the rest of my life with, so I went with him. I cried and sobbed and was a mess as we drove that big truck away from my parents house after we were married. I finally stopped by the time we made it to South Carolina.

We stayed there for almost two years and the moved a whopping three hours north to North Carolina for training. We chose to stay in North Carolina for our first assignment in that jet. We were there for almost four years. It's the longest we have ever been at a base.

When it came time to make choices for our next assignment, SD wanted to go to Alaska. I was on the fence about the whole Alaska thing. I'm more of a warm weather gal. But the idea was sort of exciting and we got credit for an overseas tour for going to Alaska, so SD put it down as his number one choice. He put Texas as his third and fourth choices. We were told by our commander that they would certainly try to get us to Alaska or to our second choice, but short of that, they would most certainly be able to get us back to Texas. The assignments were due to come out while SD was deployed to the desert in Operation Something or Other and I had gone home with SugarPlum to see my folks. I was prepared to go house hunting at the base we were anticipating as soon as the assignments were announced.

Finally, the day came when SD called and said, "Well, I got our assignment." And it was to England. The very last choice on our list. I. was. livid. I cried and threw a giant fit. I really didn't get over it until we got there and got into our house. And then I actually enjoyed the heck out of that assignment.

When assignment time rolled around again, we were fairly certain that we would be heading to Texas. And go to Texas we did. The kids and I (SugarPlum was 5 1/2 and Bear was 13 mos) left a month ahead of SD and flew to my parents. Then I drove to the town we were moving to and my best friend - now known as the Bride to Be (or B2B) since she is getting married in April- met me to help me find a house to buy. That was fun.

We lived three hours from my parents for two and a half years. My folks came out at least once a month and sometimes every weekend. When I had emergency surgery, they came and stayed with the kids. And my Mom came and stayed for the weeks leading up to Bug's arrival so that we wouldn't have to worry about calling in the middle of the night and waiting for someone to get there. It was wonderful.

Then came time to move again, as SD was selected for school. We made our "list" selecting schools in Virginia, Rhode Island, and Kansas. We felt pretty confident that we would be going to one of those three places, although there was an outside chance that the Air Force could send us to the school in Alabama.

Once again, however, we got bitch-slapped by the Air Force and they said, "Guess what?! You are going to...Ohio!!" Huh?? WTF?? When did that even become an option? So, here we sit up in the great white north.

Within weeks after we got here, SD had to submit our preferences for our next assignment. This was a very hard decision. He is at a "fish or cut bait" point in his career. Without revealing too much, since it's not my business to reveal it, I will say that we had some big decisions to make.

One of those decisions was about a remote assignment. At some point, especially when someone has been in the AF a long time, you have to go remote (to a nasty location where you can't take your family). We knew that a remote assignment was coming soon. If not this assignment, then probably the next. And with a remote, they will give you your "follow-on" assignment. So, SD and I decided that if he could negotiate with the assignment people to volunteer for a remote to a location that is not too scary for me to know where he is and with Texas as his follow-on that we would do it.

So there you have the very, very long version of where we are going next:

TEXAS!!! YAY!!!!!!

We will finally be back to where Gram and Gray Gray can get to us "the quickliest"! Yay!!

But, I will be a single parent for a year. BOOOO!!!!!

But, it will probably make for some interesting blog entries. Yay!!!

Anyone want to come and be my volunteer nanny/maid for a year? I'll cook for you! Pretty please?

Saturday, February 04, 2006

The post you thought would never come and might possibly never end *DO-OVER*

subtitle: What I did this week, by Buffi

Don’t tell me you didn’t see this coming. Bug started running a fever Friday night. Yes, of course he did. It was date night. Did we still have our date?? Why, yes, we did, thankyouverymuch. We had a sitter, we had motrin, so we had our date, by golly. We went to the mall (one of the department stores had 550 thread-count sheets on sale for $59.95!!) and then to eat Italian. Chianti on a sore throat – not a great plan. Ouch.

Saturday dawned to more of the same. Bug had been up at about 2:00 and I gave him more motrin and some benedryl and he went back to sleep. SD got up with the kids. Then he woke me up to take SugarPlum to her basketball game. I felt like crap, but I missed the first game, so I wasn’t about to miss this one. Turns out there wasn’t much to miss, they lost 28-8. At least my girl scored two of those eight points. She might have scored more, but we had an “incident” just before the game that I’m certain distracted her. That’s for another post, however.

Bug & I were pretty miserable the rest of the day. I still wasn’t feeling too strep-y though. I had been chalking this illness up to a virus more than strep. I hadn't had any fever or any other symptoms other than the sore throat…which is a huge symptom, I realize, but I’ve had it often enough to know the difference. I kept an eye on him all day. We napped while SD took Bear and SugarPlum to fly kites over at the park.

That night we had our weekly pizza and movie night and watched Jungle Book. The boys loved that. They danced all around to I Wanna Be Like You. It was a welcome change from Move it Move it. (Although I love watching them go crazy to that song, it’s starting to get old.)

When I walked upstairs I smelled a not-too-pleasant odor. Ugh. Dog poop. Dang it. Where was it? I looked in SugarPlum’s room, where the Snazzy was sleeping, but didn’t see anything. I looked all over the upstairs, but couldn’t find anything, but Boy was that smell strong! I got the dogs to go out to do their business and went back upstairs to search again. I looked back into SugarPlum’s room. What was that smudge on the carpet? Oh, no. Snazzy had pooped right in front of the door, so when I opened it (it opens to the inside) it just smeared in an arc and ground it into the carpet. I ran downstairs to get cleaning stuff and a bag. I spent the next half hour cleaning up that mess.

Finally, I got to bed at 12:30. As I lay there, all I could smell was dog crap. I had sprayed Lysol, but there was no avoiding that smell. Then I remembered. I nudged SD, “Hey! What did we do with that Febreeze Notice!ables thing we got in the mail today?” I had been smelling it all day long. It was a little sweet for my taste under normal circumstances, but this was not a normal circumstance!

“It’s on top of the fridge,” he mumbled in his sleep (honestly, the man puts up with so much from me sometimes!). So I ran downstairs and grabbed it. I plugged it in the outlet in the kids’ bathroom which is across the hall from (the very offensive smelling) SugarPlum’s room and immediately noticed (thus the name, I suppose) the difference! Ahhhhhh! I think I may keep it in there, because Bear isn’t so great at *ahem* aiming sometimes and none of them are great at flushing. So, for now our little Notice!able has a new home!

Sunday morning, I was a disaster. SD took Bear and SugarPlum to church so that I could stay home with Bug and rest. Bug was okay if he had motrin in him, but as soon as it wore off, look out. He started to melt. Melt=whiiiiiiiiine. Of course, my throat was hurting badly enough that I was pretty whiny my own self. I’m sure that I could have kept the country of India employed for a year with the amount of tea I was drinking. And yet, I was so ready to nap.

I was determined not to drag Bug to the pediatrician for this. I knew that all they would tell me was that it was viral and to give him motrin for discomfort and make sure he got plenty of fluids. I was doing all of that. I was so smug.

Monday night I had Bunco. Woo hoo!! I made supper for SD and the kids (meatloaf…it was terrible!) and I was off. Sore throat or not, I was escaping the House of Germs. Bunco was awesome, just the break I needed. Monday night however, was long. When I finally got Bug back in bed for the last time at 2:30, he said, “My earw hort.” Great. So, I asked SD to make Bug an appointment.

The next morning, SD asks me if I think Bug has an ear infection. As I lean down to kiss Bug, I say to SD, “Well, judging from the pus dripping from his ear I’d say yes.” (Sorry to spring that on you. Should have warned you first.) So, it was off to the pediatrician. And I have to say that it was the strangest appointment I've ever had.

We got there on time (a miracle in itself!) and get checked in. The tech took Bug's temperature, etc and asked why we were there. I pointed out the dripping pus and *oh! gee golly! that would be a good reason, huh!* So, the girl walks us to the exam room where...the doctor is sitting there waiting for us. Okaaaay. I can honestly say that has never happened to me. The doctor (or whatever she was, I think maybe she was a nurse practitioner) seemed very tentative about the treatment options. Should she treat the ear of dripping pus simply with oral antibiotics or with antibiotics AND antibiotic ear drops?? She had to consult another doctor. For the record we went with both.

And then the pharmacist. Hahahahaha!! What a comedian! He said the funniest thing! He handed me the little bottle of ear drops and (hee hee!) said, "Five drops in the affected ear twice a day. (get this) Don't let the tip of the bottle touch the ear!" Isn't that one of the funniest things EVER?! Surely the man has tried putting drops into the ear of a two year old before. You know how two-year-olds are all about lying still while you drip liquid into their ears. Best laugh I've had all week.

So now? Well, everyone seems to be feeling a little better. For. now. No need to tempt fate. (Hear that Fate?? We don't think we are in any way immune! No way. Nuh-uh. No need to bring your germy-germs around here to prove your point. We totally respect your bad ass!)

Today we sat around and watched the snow and hoped that enough will fall that the kids will be able to use the sleds and skis that Gray Gray and Gram got them for Christmas. Especially since they probably won't be able to use them at our next assignment. Hmmm? Oh, I haven't yet mentioned that we got our assignment? Well, golly, this post is awfully long. It'll have to wait till later.

::evil grin::