My First (Real) Mother's Day--sorta

I don't hold much stock with Hallmark holidays. So I don't expect or ask for gifts for Mother's Day. Not my thing. I usually get something from the kids that they made at school or day care, and that's fine with me. Well, I may have been a mother for 7 years, but mark this year down as the first year a kid actually went out and bought me a present. Sorta.

The day started as any normal day. After getting up, eating breakfast, and chillin' with the kids a while, I started to clean the house. For some reason, the clutter was bugging me more than usual, so I did a more thorough job than normal. I ended up cleaning the house for over three hours straight--yes, on Mother's Day. And fighting with my daughter as I tried to get her to help. Mary and Keith have chores they are expected to do every weekend, but for some reason Mary seemed to think that she shouldn't have to do them this weekend. After one of our spats, I said out loud to no one in particular, "Well, HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY TO ME!" Why I had to spend Mother's Day explaining to my eldest the reason why she should help out around the house is beyond my comprehension. Especially after she even wrote a paragraph in school about Mother's Day and how she liked to help her mother clean. Whatever.

During a later spat, Mary says to me, "Why do I have to clean on Mother's Day!! It's a holiday!" Yeah, OK, kid. You got that ALL wrong!! Don't make me laugh!

Later that afternoon, John pulls out the gifts. Real gifts. For me. Picked out and bought (well, four dollars worth, anyway) by my daughter--and son. Wow. My first real store-bought Mother's Day gifts! Keith got me (er, John picked out--as John and Mary did this while Keith was at day care Friday) a Chinese painting kit and Mary bought me some high-dollar tea from Borders. And John tells me that he bought me something, too, but "it's not here yet." (Strange, it's Wednesday, and it's still not here!).

So now I'm feeling kinda like a schmuck for going all "my-mother"-like on my daughter while trying to get her to do her chores. But, only a little bit. 'Cause she's supposed to do this stuff--without complaint--EVERY weekend. So far she's been successful about two weeks out of ten.

[But the kicker is the background story. Mary asked John last week if they could go and buy me a Mother's Day gift (hold your "awwwws", now)--and immediately followed it up with, "and then can you buy me something, too?" *sigh* I am obviously screwing up with this parenting thing SOMEWHERE.]

...and on to another prime Mary moment. After I opened my wonderful gifts--for which I am so, so grateful because they were truly perfect for me--John and I took the kids to the Lilac Festival. We got a big park with lots of Lilac bushes--so the city throws a festival right around the time the flowers bloom. Beautiful and fun--well, if it's not raining, that is.

I gave the kids each $5.00 to spend "as THEY chose." We got there a little late, so we kind of walked through the garden part quickly and moved on to the vendors. Corn dogs and loaded fries for a Mother's Day dinner? Perfect! As we're flying by booths, Mary sees a booth where she wants to stop. John and I are in a hurry to get to our corn dogs, so we tell her "maybe later." I didn't catch until later that what she saw (in the 30 seconds it took us to round that corner) and wanted in particular was a dolphin. Well, we get to the kiddie section, and she and Keith decide they want to ride the kiddie rides. 3 rides for $5.00. I asked Mary, "Are you SURE you want to spend your money on these rides? There are other things here at the festival you may want to buy." I asked her TWICE. She was sure. She plopped down her $5.00, got her 3 tickets, and rode her rides. Well, as it was getting late (And Izzy was starting to throw a temper tantrum because she HATES riding in the stroller--but we HAD to put her in one 'cause we didn't want her to have complete walking freedom in that huge crowd--and she wanted to ride in the bounce house, but we thought she shouldn't as we could just see all those big kids bounding right into her and is it worth the tears and frustration?), we packed up and started heading to the car. On our way out, Mary throws a fit to rival her little sister. Because she wanted that dolphin. And no reassurances of "we'll come back later this week and look at it" were keeping the fit at bay. She cried and carried on all the way out to the car. None of our "stop, or you're not getting it at all" statements worked, either. So, now with both of our girls crying all the way out to the car (one guy we walked by took one look and said, "Time to go home?!" Oh yes, indeed), John's and my nerves were pretty rattled.

And it doesn't stop even after we get to the car. And through most of the car ride home. John finally completely loses it and declares, "That's it! You're not getting anything!"

I mean, c'mon. We do not buy this kid something every time we go someplace--in fact, very rarely. She is not spoiled. So why the heck all of a sudden is she acting like a freakin' mini-Paris? We can't even take her to a store to just "look around" without her throwing a fit when we don't buy anything. "Whose kid ARE you??? Where did this come from???" I'm being told it's the age. I certainly hope so. I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that my previously-sweet daughter can't even buy ME a gift without demanding one of her own....

So that was my Mother's Day. Filled with tears, accusations of unfairness and temper tantrums--but also good food and a couple of very, very nice, thoughtful gifts. That were actually bought for me. From a store. With my kid's own money. One out of three ain't bad, Mary. There's still hope for you!

STRESSED

It's been a horrible week at work. All I can say is that we knew it would be, so we were kinda prepared, and so I guess I'm probably not as stressed as I could be. It didn't help that John had to go out of town Sunday night through Tuesday. I kept things simple at home, got a little help from my neighbor (she put Mary on the bus for me Tuesday morning), and we made it through just fine. After I got over my highly stressful Monday, that is.

'Course it also didn't help that I had a horrible teeth-hurting sinus headache--for several days. Guess it's the mugginess. I know that nothing I'm taking is even TOUCHING the pain. So I've just decided to deal with it and get on with my day-to-day life. And now I'm feeling a little better.

The mini-van is "brand-new" again. I wonder how many lives this sucker has got, as it's now been reborn three times. I did get brave and drive to Wal-Mart again yesterday. I faced my fear and parked even further back in the boonies than I normally do (and away from posts/poles). When John drove the mini-van Wednesday night, he asked, "Did they clean it?" "Yes, they always do." "So THAT's why you do it!" "Yes, a $500 detail job. What a bargain!"

And on to less-stressful news....
Mary and I are excited because our Girl Scout troop is going camping tomorrow. Should be fun. I hope all goes well....

Keith and Izzy have developed an interesting game during our morning commute. It's the same dialogue back and forth EVERY morning and evening...

Izzy, "Hey, what's the hold up down there?" (sounds like: "Hey, what's the hole down there?")
Keith, "There's a rock in the way!"
Izzy, "Well, toss it out and get back to work!" (sounds like: "Well, tah sit an' get back to work!")
Keith, "OK!" (with lots of groans/pushing noises).

And then they giggle and do it all over again. Every now and then, Izzy will improvise and add at then end, "Is it heavy?" Keith: "YES!"

Now that I've figured out the dialogue, I'm wondering where it came from. Did Keith pick this up from some movie, or is this just a game he invented???

It used to be that Izzy was a "third wheel" who played on her own (or with me) and was completely ignored by her siblings. But now Keith has been playing with her--and just her!--more. I'm not sure if it's because the two of them are together all day at the same provider's house (without bossyboots Mary) or if it's just simply because Izzy's 2 1/2 now and is better able to keep up with him (maybe both). It's nice to see. Well, until Keith gets too "boyish" on her and throws toys at her or pushes her or plays a game she can't relate. Last night he was pretending to be a "mad door" (it's from the Piglet game we play on the Gamecube), and he succeeded only in making her cry because she didn't understand the game and she wanted to get through the doorway. I also caught him earlier threatening to stick a sharp pencil in her eye if she didn't stop crying (and I think she was just crying again because she didn't understand the game). Um...THAT is not acceptable. He got a time-out and a severe talkin' to over THAT little comment.

Cripes! The sibling rivalry! HOW to make it stop!

The Reality Show they need to make

....would be called "Is he fakin' it?"

On this show, the fretful mother would drag her five-year old son to this panel of pediatricians where they have to examine him and determine if the two hour crying spell where he SCREAMED that his ear hurt is a real medical issue or just an attention-getting stunt. IF the mother is right, and the kid is fakin' it (as she's SURE he is, since earlier that day, he was whining about the OTHER ear--and was even caught SLEEPING on the currently-suspect ear with NOT even a whimper--until he saw mom was watching him), then the pediatricians have to eat the co-pay--AND reimburse the mother for her unpaid time from work. IF the kid's complaints are proved to be true (what a shock!) than the mother eats her crow and her unpaid time and co-pay without a tantrum of her own.

Obviously, this was the scenario from last weekend--except that I did NOT take Keith to the doctor. My professional opinion as a mother (for what it's worth) is that he had a slight cold (oh, yes, it's making its rounds) and that his ears were a bit plugged up from it (he said it sounded as if people were talking under water to him). I think that it just felt kind of "weird" to him and that "weird" registered to him as "pain."

Of course, I could have been wrong..... Because I believe it was Saturday that when he got up from his nap, one of his eyes looked kind of gunky and RED. Not completely red, just a little bit. But his nose and face were completely covered in snot (hello--this kid is snotty ALL THE TIME and does NOT have the best nose hygiene. ewwww.). It looked to me as if he'd wiped his nose with his hand, and that it had smeared into his eye. So, I asked him to wash his face. When he came back "clean", his eye didn't look so red, so I thought maybe, just maybe, the eye got a little irritated from having all that snot in it...? And it never looked red the rest of the weekend.

Well, Izzy's eye looked a little gunky too when she got up from that same nap, but not red. This isn't new for THIS kid because she does get gunky eyes from time to time. But Monday, when John picked up the kids after the mini-van fiasco, our day care provider told him that Izzy had pink eye. Sure enough, the kid's left eye had a definite red hue--and gunk. Leona and I immediately agreed on the treatment (without even talking to each other--it's sometimes scary how we Moms can think alike)--give her Mary's drops from the big Pink-Eye Incident of last Christmas. I know, I know. I probably should have taken Izzy in. And it's a big no-no to give one child's prescription to another. But after all the talks with all the pediatricians and doctors during the big Pink Eye Incident of last Christmas (even Leona and one of her daughters got it), we both decided it didn't seem to meet the criteria of a doctor's visit. I figure, if she's whining and feverish and acting sick, THEN I will take her in to see if anything else is wrong: sore throat, ear infection, etc. So far, so good. The eye drops have cleared up her eyes, and she's acting like a normal two-year old. And my five-year old hasn't complained one BIT about his ear since the crying jag of last Sunday night--and his eyes have stayed red- and gunk-free.

(Makes me wonder how much of my wreck was due to sleep deprivation as I did not sleep well Friday night or Saturday night, and Keith kept us up late Sunday night. And I've been very frazzled lately. My other two wrecks were most certainly due to sleep deprivation and my frazzled-working-mother-of-three status. Perhaps another pursuit into working-from-home is in order again.)

Anyrate, I could have used the "Is she fakin' it?" show last Thursday when Mary's visit to the nurse's office for a COLD caused such havoc in our lives.

I should call CBS. (They could probably use a laugh.)

Opening Day

Last Saturday was Opening Day for t-ball. We had to be at the ball park at 8:30 to get ready for the parade. Mary got in into her head, while we're all running around like crazy trying to get dressed and ready, that she didn't want to go. Mary is very much into her routines. Since most of our Saturday mornings are spent waking up kind of slow and relaxing--and with her PLAYING all morning--she thinks ALL Saturdays have to be like that. And it's a world-stopping event if we have any other kind of plans.

It was not pretty.

We got to the ball park with just the typical whining. Then John and Mary headed over to the spot the team was meeting, and Keith, Izzy, and I headed to the parade location. It was a very cold, very wet, very dark and dreary day. I saw tons of SMART parents who had brought their Dunkin' Donuts' and Tim Hortons' coffees, and I was kicking myself for not getting my own (as if we'd really had time in the rush to get there). While we were waiting, I saw Mary's team come down the hill to get ready to get lined up. First I saw John with this FEROCIOUS look on his face. Uh oh. Then I see Mary--with a bright red and screwed-up look on HER face. She was obviously crying. GREAT.

The parade finally starts. Mary's team was probably the third team to walk by. There she was, in the middle of this group of kids holding their team banner, still with a sullen look on her face--and she didn't even look up when I called her. John zipped by without even noticing us. That wouldn't have been a problem--except that Keith was looking for them....

Izzy was being a general 2-year old nuisance and throwing a fit because I wouldn't let her join the parade, and I wouldn't let her wander off towards the fields, and I actually wanted her to stand still beside me. So, I decided to high-tail it out of there before the parade was actually over (so, SO cold out there)--and that's when Keith threw HIS fit. "I didn't see Daddy! I didn't see Mary!" "But, honey, they've already walked by!" "WAHHHHHH!!!" So, I guess even saying, "Look, there's Daddy and Mary!" and calling out Mary's name several times didn't clue him in when they actually walked by..... ARGH!

So, I finally got my two wailing children back to the mini-van (pre-iodiotic wreck, obviously), turned it on, and cranked up the heat. After the tantrums settled down (mine included), we were all pretty cozy. After a while, John calls, looking for me in the crowd. "We're in the van." "So you missed it?" "Missed what?" "The opening ceremony! You were supposed to follow the parade to the ball diamond!" Know what--after the cold, and the rain, and the THREE wailing kids, I DIDN'T CARE. I was snug in my van and did not feel bad ONE BIT.

Mary had it right--we should have just stayed home in the first place! (When I asked her later, she said she was crying because 1) she didn't want to be in the parade and 2) she didn't want to hold the banner because it was so heavy. Oh, and 3) the other boys holding the banner weren't holding it high enough, and she kept tripping on it while they were walking.)

After that was over, we took the kids out for brunch, had Keith and Izzy take early naps, and then we had to rush out the door again for Mary's actual t-ball GAME. Much better performance by the eldest unit this time. It was still very, very cold, and still very, very rainy, but she played, and didn't complain, and didn't cry, and actually seemed to be enjoying herself.

Keeping Izzy entertained while this cold, wet boring-to-a-2-year-old game was going on was not fun. She was driving me nuts! When John told me that in this league they play 6 innings instead of the 5 we played last year, and that the game was probably going to take another hour, I decided to take Izzy for a drive. I couldn't even take her for a walk without crying issues, and I couldn't take her to the little playground as it was so wet. I set out with her to get the Tim Hortons' coffee I'd missed out on earlier. As I pull back into the ball park, I see one of Mary's teammates leaving. Aw, MAN! Sure enough, they decided to go ahead and call the game early since it was so cold and rainy. I only missed 15 minutes of the game, but I missed Mary making a GREAT play from third base (which she played the whole game). A ball was hit her way, she retrieved it, and threw it straight to first. (If only the first baseman had caught it!)

Whew! What a day!

I broke the van

John needs to get a 6-figure job because I just need to be chaperoned around: I should NOT be driving.

Yes, I broke our van AGAIN. Two years ago I had an accident in April AND in June. And now I've gone and done it again. At least this time my poor mini-van is the only victim. I believe this was just a case of being too careful--but with tunnel vision. I was backing out of Wal-Mart, and being paranoid of hitting one of those crazy people who ZOOM through the parking lots out there, I was paying more attention to what was behind me, than what was beside me. Because I had parked next to a little walkway which had a giant concrete, bright yellow post. Gee, how on EARTH did I not notice that? *sigh* I turned too sharply while backing out and clipped it with my front end.

I must say, these are the moments when the GOOD husband shows up. Despite the two back-to-back wrecks from two years ago, and this act of idiocy today, John is being pretty good about it. Smartly realizing, I guess, that his wife is just a klutz in ALL modes of transportation--whether manual (walking) or vehicular--and there is just nothing he can do about it. Resignation, I guess. Now let's hope our car insurance is just as forgiving....

Now, if you'll excuse me, I must go have a good, long cry.

Fooled me twice, Shame on ME

Yesterday afternoon I get a phone call from the school nurse. *cringe* Mary had been down to the nurse's office twice already. She had a runny nose, her ear was plugged, she hadn't eaten much lunch (um, my eats-like-a-bird kid NEVER eats her whole lunch, but I s'pose the nurse wouldn't know that), and she "just wasn't acting herself." No fever. No vomit. No red eyes. The nurse suggested I try to talk to her--to maybe "pep" her up into going back to class. HA! Not MY drama queen of a daughter!!

Well, I gave it the ol' college try. "No, Mommy, I just don't feel good." Fine. So then John and I are going back and forth on the phone trying to arrange who can pick up what kids when. Finally it's decided that I have to leave work to get Mary (and due to the nature of my job, I couldn't leave until after 2:00) and then he has to get the other two by 4:30 (how convenient that the one day care provider had to close early yesterday! @#$%).

To give the nurse some credit, Mary does indeed have a cold. A *slight* cold. She'd been sniveling the night before and even had a tiny cough (which we knew was from the post-nasal drip of said sniveling). BUT I knew as soon as I stepped in--when I saw Mary chillin' out on the sick bed playing with her virtual pet--that there was nothing wrong with that kid. Even the nurse says to me, "I just think she's coming down with a cold...." Really? And John and I had to wreck our work day (and I had to take time UNPAID) for what--a COLD?!

As soon as we get on the road, Mary starts, "Mom, can we play on the gamecube?" "NO." "Can we watch a movie?" "NO." "Well, what are we going to do?" "YOU are going to lie down on the couch." "Why?" "Because you're sick...right?"

Later she couldn't understand why she couldn't go to t-ball practice. Sorry: if you're sick at school, you can't go to t-ball at night.

Mary was pretty bored with her afternoon off from school. And pretty annoyed with me. Sorry. It's time to draw the line, kid. I explained to her last night that I knew that she didn't feel well--I know colds suck--but I'm NOT picking her up from school tomorrow unless she has a fever. Time to tough it out, kid. And I very nicely explained the same to her teacher via email: Mary may be tired today, but she just has a little cold, and I won't pick her up unless she has a fever. I hope I'm not being marked down as one of those "mean" parents now. *sigh* I guess my true nature was bound to come out sooner or later....

Biking and cross-stitching and t-ball

My girlfriend remembered one of the bikes, and even though it's intended for Keith, Mary has been the one trying to ride it since it doesn't have training wheels on it--yet. After two days of practicing back and forth on our little driveway, she is so, so close to just taking off on that thing. You can just "see" the learning process as she's starting to "get" how to ride this darn two-wheeler. She was getting mad at me Monday night because I had stopped helping her get her "push-off." I stopped because I could tell that she just about "had" it and that she just needed to keep on trying. Oh, she's so, so close. I just know it won't take long now and she'll be a riding fool.

Mary has also shown an interest in cross-stitch. I've been working on a pattern again the last couple of weeks (that I've been "working on" going on 2 1/2 years now--sorry Jage). Mary is fascinated. So I decided to try to teach her. I found a tiny kit at the craft store for a buck--and she's loving it. She's still a little confused, but she's only done two rows so far. But she's definitely determined to get it down. How cool for my kid to actually be interested in something that she saw ME do. I couldn't help my big grin while I watched her do something that *I* was teaching her. And I know her namesake would get a kick out of it if she were around to see it.... *sigh*

Mary had her first t-ball practice Saturday--all others had been canceled up to then do to the cold, crappy NOT-spring weather. I was a little nervous since last spring she just didn't seem to have the proper "attitude" for it. She seemed bored at the practices and she would get "cross" if she didn't hit the ball, or if the coach had her play a position she didn't want to play (she pooh-poohs anything in the outfield). It got exhausting trying to teach her sportsmanship and good manners and how in t-ball everything needs to be "fair" so that every kid gets a chance at every position. Ugh. Well, John said she did just great on Saturday. First off, she's the only girl on the team. (We thought that kind of odd. Surely more girls are interested in t-ball than that?) But she apparently really hit the ball pretty hard and impressed the other boys in the team. She's so proud of herself. "I'll bet those boys thought I was going to be weak. I'll bet those boys didn't think I could hit like that! I'll show them!" It's a competitive streak I never expected out of her--and it's kind of fun. Mary has her first game on Saturday. We'll see if her enthusiasm stays until the end of the season.

What gives?

It is not summer. We've only had spring for about a week, and even though we had a couple of "summer-like," beautiful days, it is NOT yet summer.

So why is it that EVERY store I go to for the girls ONLY has SHORTS and TANK TOPS for sale? Hello! This is Rochester! We CANNOT wear shorts and tank tops until AUGUST--and then only for two weeks! What the freak are they expecting the kids to wear until then????

And while I'm on a clothing gripe session: why on earth are the only clothes available for girls in pink and every other pastel??? Why can't girls wear something with COLOR to them? I LIKE pink, I really do--but NOT for EVERY SINGLE OUTFIT that my kid wears! And how on earth can a kid play like a REAL kid in the REAL dirt while wearing a freaking pastel tank top and a pastel skirt (and pastel sandals)! I want my girls to have FUN this spring/summer without my having to worry about buying the industrial-sized bottle of Shout!

I got so frustrated the other day with the lack of color in the Izzy-sized clothes, that I actually bought her a couple of boy outfits. Wow! Beautiful dark blues and greens and even a grey and bright orange! Variety! And more durable so that she won't put a hole in the shorts the first time she takes a spill on the driveway in them.

*sigh* I really must need more sleep to have that many all-cap words in a silly blog post. Sorry for the PMS moment, folks.

But, HONESTLY!! ;-)

Blue Skies Smilin' At Me

Finally, some semi-decent weather! The kids are finally getting outside with their respective day cares/school recesses. I'm enjoying a bit of sunshine while going out to run errands on my lunch break and such.

Mary is quite jealous that one of the girls at her day care just learned how to ride a two-wheeler (without training wheels!), so Mary has been trying to get on one while she's at her after-school provider's house. No success yet. She has a small bike at home (it's a hand-me-down from a friend), but the chain is off, it still has training wheels, and it's really too small for her now. Another friend is supposed to give us bikes (one for Keith AND Mary), but it's hard to get together to GET them. So....if we don't get together this weekend, I may just say "forget it" and just go and buy some new bikes. It's so exciting to actually have a driveway in which we can attempt to teach the kids--there was just way too much traffic at the ol' townhouse. And there are sidewalks across the street!

Today Keith and I had to get our teeth cleaned (and Izzy got to tag along). Both of us passed our exams with flying colors. The dentist can't get over how well my teeth/gums look now. When I first started going to him, I was pregnant with Mary and ended up with SEVEN cavities AND a root canal. I can't quite explain it myself--I've always had pretty decent oral hygiene. And my teeth were fine when we lived in Ohio. But for some reason, Rochester was pretty rotten on my teeth that first year and a half we lived here! Guess my teeth have adjusted now....?

When I dropped off the kids after our appointment, I was already going to miss almost a half a day at work. It was all I could do to not call in and just skip the rest of the day. So, so beautiful. And the kids were playing out in the sun, and I am stuck in a locked-up room--with NO windows--for the rest of the day!

*sigh*

We Got Da Funk

Er, more like I'm IN a funk.

It must be the weather. You know--the LACK of spring. I don't know, but I have been a complete and total B the last MONTH.

My poor kids are taking the brunt of it. And even though I KNOW I've currently got a hairtrigger temper, even though I SEE myself about to explode, for some reason I just can't stop it. Then I have this volcanic eruption, feel horrible, and spend the next ten minutes simmering before I finally apologize to the poor (although not always innocent) sap how flipped my switch. Something's gotta give.

I tried sooooo hard last night. But I think part of the problem is that the kids are on the edge, too. Not being able to get outside for the last few weeks (and all spring break!) is a bit rough. They are completely nuts and are feeling pent up, so they're exta loud and well, "bouncy." All I can see is the freak falls off the armchair, couch, and oh my God, Keith stop swinging that bat!! And the noise! And the making Izzy cry! Next thing you know, I've completely lost it, and all three kids are crying.

Cripes! I've been so bad lately, that last weekend when the kids got up early and I was still attempting to snooze in a little, I could hear Mary getting on to Keith for something completely trivial--and she just wouldn't let it go! And I thought, "Oh my God! That's the way I am to them, isn't it? She's gotten that incessant nagging from ME! I've influenced my daughter to become an ANNOYING, little B!" (And then I got up and yelled at her for yelling at him! Yeah, THAT was helpful!)

Obviously, I need some help here. First step, though, right???

And a break in the weather would be good, too.

Sweet Victory

We took the kids to the Y swimming again on Sunday. Keith hardly hesitated--he got right in! Yay! The baby step program worked! Maybe now we'll look into swimming lessons for him.

In other weekend news, I took Mary Saturday to get her hair cut. It's now a bob just above her shoulders. Absolutely adorable! And it makes her look older. *shudder* We'll see how she can handle the upkeep on her new short 'do.

Elaine Gayle

My step-brother and sister-in-law had a baby girl Sunday afternoon.

Welcome, Elaine Gayle! Congrats Neil and Leah!!

It's The Easter Mole Man!

Forgot to tell you all about the conversation Mary, John, and I had about the Easter Bunny. I've never really pressed the bunny or the Santa issue on my kids. But this year I did happen to mention the Easter Bunny, in just a little side comment. Well, Mary, the precocious one, says to me, "I don't really think there is an Easter Bunny." "No?" I said, "You don't think that there is a giant bunny hopping around hiding eggs and baskets?" "No," she says, "I think it must be one of those people--you know the ones who work at night?" (Getting this idea from a conversation we had months ago about how some folks work during the day and some at night). "Oh really?" "Yeah, because they can see better at night--you know like those animals? Bats? Or...?" "Moles?" John supplies helpfully. "Yeah! But oh, it's people, not animals." "So, it's the Easter Mole Man?!"

John and I cracked up over that one for quite some time. I kept laughing heartily about it for a few minutes after that. "What's so funny?!" Mary wanted to know. "Nothing, honey," says John. "You are just too smart for your own good."

About Easter

I usually don't go overboard with the Easter holidays. Don't know why....? But this year was different. Actually, I blame a co-worker. He brought in some dark chocolate-covered marshmallow eggs which are made by a local candy company. After having one, I decided that I had to get them for the kids' Easter baskets (which I usually end up raiding more than they do). So, I spent $20 at this chocolatier's store. Then spent even more on candy at Wally-World because what's an Easter basket without peanut M&Ms? And robin eggs? Oh! And Jelly Belly jelly beans! And while I'm here, I'll just get them a few outside toys as we now have a back yard in which to play! Yay! Anyway, Keith and Mary (and even myself) were astounded at the hoard that the Easter Bunny left on the kitchen table Sunday morning.

We decorated 18 eggs. Amazing! Especially since no one likes hard-boiled eggs in our house--and deviled eggs are somewhat "suspect". Yikes! What was I thinking? And I even let them open the new Plah-Doh colors that the Bunny left--so that we had a big Plah-Doh-ey mess to clean up alongside the dyed eggs (why not clean up ONE big mess altogether?).

AND I baked a strawberry pie. Which John and I haven't shared with the kids YET. It's too good for their immature palates! (And gurgling tummies).

There was no outside Easter egg hunt as there was SNOW on the ground. Honestly! Gotta love living in Rochester! But Mary hid the plastic candy-filled eggs for Keith, and they had fun with that for a while.

Yes, it was a great Easter. And even though the warning signs were there (as early as Saturday morning, I was expecting the "eruption" of Mary's tum because she kept complaining her stomach hurt and that she was burping the pizza we'd had for dinner Friday night), we all enjoyed the day as a family.

Until that 4:20 wake-up call that night, that is. *sigh*

In retrospect...

...it's probably a good thing that Izzy, while in the buff ready to take a bath but waiting for Keith (who had rudely cut in front of her) to finish going potty so that she could go, couldn't possibly wait for him to finish and ended up peeing on the bathroom rug so that I had to pick it up and soak it in the kitchen sink.

...and it's probably a good thing that I have been trying my darndest to get Mary and Keith to PICK UP their dirty clothes off the floor every night and keep their room neat (and their pathways clean).

...and I'm grateful that we bought a house with hardwood floors in our upstairs bedrooms and hallway.

It must have been an ESP kind of thing. Because Monday at 4:20am I heard Mary get up and I heard that unmistakable "cough" that brought me bolt-upright out of a doze (Izzy had woken me up 20 minutes earlier fussing, so I wasn't sleeping deeply yet), and I had my wits enough about me to yell, "IN THE BATHROOM! GO INTO THE BATHROOM!" But it was too late. Mary, who was indeed attempting to come into our room, did an about-face, and proceeded to hurl all over our hardwood hallway floor.

Yes, I'm grateful for all of these things as Mary got puke all over the hallway, on the bathroom floor, on her bedroom floor, and even a spot on John's and my bedroom floor that I unfortunately did not notice until I had already mopped up (with Lysol!) all the other offending spots and changed the sheets (yay! we had clean sheets!) on Mary's and Keith's bed (good grief--she got more on his bed than her own) and was walking barefoot back into bed at 4:53 am. My clean-up, which only took roughly 40 minutes after walking into that "extra spot" at the end, was much quicker than it normally would have been because of ALL those factors! Wow!

Mary proceeded to spend all of Monday (which was a day that John was already "booked" to stay home with the kids as both day cares were closed) dry-heaving. Her timing is still off. She still doesn't understand that we want her to RUN straight for the bathroom (or pick up the garbage can) the SECOND she feels the puke coming on--instead of running for Mommy and Daddy first to discuss the upcoming hurling sensation. *sigh* John had to do lots and lots of cleaning yesterday.

Today she feels better, so after a morning of "Oh, I don't know. I guess my tummy still hurts," and after she was actually able to eat breakfast and keep it down, John dropped her off at the day care at 11:00.

Now I'm living in fear of the imminent phone call. 'Cause you KNOW not just one child will get away with the barfing flu like that. It's just a matter of time, folks.

Bleh.

Small success

We took the kids to the Y again Monday night. This time I spent about 30 minutes sitting by the side of the pool with Keith convincing him to get in. We took baby steps from one step to the next. Every time he'd go down another step, he'd get this fool grin on his face and laugh. Is he playing one on Mom and Dad for the attention, or is he really afraid of the water? So after much talking and reassuring, I finally get him to get in with me. Then after a while, John and I got him to hang onto a noodle--with us holding him. Then after that went well, we finally got him to hang on to the noodle and kick AND "swim" towards the opposing adult.

Wow. That was exhausting.

So the big question is: will Keith get in right away the next time we go to the pool? Or will it take more fits and more cajoling before we make it happen?

Stay tuned!

Pants Gnomes

OK, I completely understand the phenomenon of pulling your spring/summer clothes out of storage and suddenly finding last year's capri's are too smug on your butt. Shorter, more inactive days, the holiday binge, the urgent desire to plop one's butt on the couch under a warm blanket and watch TV all night EVERY NIGHT between November and early March--this is a very easy concept to get--and deal with. It happens, you buy new pants, and life goes on.

What I do NOT get is pulling out a pair of cargo pants, trying them on, and then finding that they are now a FULL INCH too short! Now, I KNOW that a 34-year old adult female did NOT grow a full inch over the winter. So what the freak happened to my pants? Did Old Navy hire a Pants Gnome to go through my storage chest and shorten my pants just so that I would absolutely HAVE to not attempt to make the style last just one more season but go plunk more money down on new freaking pants? (I'd be more upset, but these pants at least convert to capris--so I can still pull THAT off, at least.)

But the biggest problem is that the gnomes followed me into the dressing room at Kohl's the other day. Now, you menfolk just don't get it, but buying jeans is a huge undertaking if you're a woman. First off, no two pairs are alike--same brand, same make, same size, same whatever and they will fit differently. When a woman realizes she needs to buy new jeans, she has two choices: either try on every freaking pair in the store in the hopes of finding ONE that MIGHT fit OK after they are washed (taking up several hours and cranky husbands/children's time and frustration added on to it) OR buying several pairs to do the try-ons in the comfort of your own home--only to find that NONE fit and you now have to take them all back and where the heck did I stick that receipt, anyway? So, I chose to do quick, mini try-on during a lunch hour. After several attempts between junior and misses sizes, I finally find a pair that seems to fit right, so I plunk down the $30 and go home. Two days later, I pulled them out of the bag to wear them--and they are suddenly too big! What the freak?! No way I would have bought these suckers if they hadn't felt and looked "right" while I tried them on. Now I'm thinking that Kohls' must have hired THEIR gnomes to swap out my jeans in the middle of the night just so that I'd have to take them back (oh God, where's the receipt?!) and then buy MORE stuff--because there are very few women disciplined enough to take something back and NOT buy a bunch more stuff while there. (Not to mention that this certainly proves Elaine Benise's theory on dressing room mirrors making stuff look good on you that indeed, does NOT.) Well, I decided to keep the freakin' jeans and wear them "around the house" just to avoid that deceiving dressing room mirror again. I can't handle another try-on session for a while here and will just have to make due with the couple of pairs of jeans I've got (all exhausted after a "secretary's spread" winter) until the capri season is in full swing again. I just can't let my pant legs down is all....

Germs suck

I started coming down with another cold last night. I'm hardly ever sick, so what the freak?!
I'm sure my Brownie mothers are happy now that I've probably passed it on to all of them--and my co-workers will get a little taste today, too. And now I'll just have to go to shopping at lunch to share the love with some complete stangers. The Cold won't be happy unless I do--maybe then it'll have mercy on me and leave after just a few annoying sniffles.

And, please, dear Lord, leave my kids out of it!

New Look

Just got bored with the ol' one.

And I had five minutes to spare today.

Y

After much deliberation, John and I decided to get a family membership at the Y. There are two within minutes of our house, and we figure it gives us something else to do with the kids on the evenings and weekends.

There is a brand-new facility down the road, and we tried them out first. And what's the first thing you do when you get a membership to the Y? Check out the pool, man! It's quite nice. It's split into a family pool and a fitness pool. The kids were very excited. Until we started to get in. Then Keith remembered just how much he hates pools.

Keith has been apprehensive around water for a couple of years now. He did OK while we were at Kalahari last year since most of the place is just a foot or so of water--nothing really over his head. But I think that last trip down that one slide--where he actually went under water for a brief second--was the last straw. Now he's deathly afraid of going under water--to the point where he doesn't even want John or me to hold him in the pool because he's afraid we'll slip our grip. He doesn't even believe us that he can touch in the shallow 3 ft end. As a result, he spent all of our time by the pool last Sunday sitting/standing along the side while the rest of us swam around and had a ball. If either one of us even came close to check on him/talk to him, he ran screaming. He got himself so worked up, his cheeks were flushed, and he was burning up like he had a fever.

Meanwhile, Mary, who had gotten over her fear of the water two years ago, is doggy-paddling around no problem. And Izzy--who in her short 2 summers of existence hasn't been exposed much to a pool--was kicking while floating on a noodle like an old pro. "I swimmin'!"

We went to a different Y Monday night. This one was older and just had the big pool that they roped off for family swimming and lessons. Keith stood on the sidelines again. This time we mostly kept our distance to prevent the tantrums--but I would go close every now and then and talk to him. Then I pulled out the big guns: Get in the pool--for just a minute-- and I'll give you a candy bar. That's right--I'm not adverse to a little bribery every now and then. After a while, he finally decided that chocolate had precedence over his fear of the water and let John carry him around in the pool--all the while giving John the death grip around the neck. That's OK--at least he got in! Maybe after a few more baby steps, he'll be more willing to get in without the bribery. If we get to that point, I may look into lessons for him. We'll see....

Chocolate rules!

Bilingually cute

One of the super-cute kid stories I hadn't had a chance to post due to recent month-long quarantine:

The other day I was in the kitchen--probably making dinner--and Izzy was in there keeping me company and playing with the magnets on the refrigerator. They're cute animal magnets that are split into the front-half and the back-half of the animal (wonderful x-mas gift from Aunt Lynnie). Izzy's supposed to put them together on the base--which will then sing a cutesy song (different song if the animal halves stuck on there are correct or incorrect). Anyway, she was completely ignoring the base for once (which is a relief--she has a tendency to turn it up to the highest level which is super annoying). On this particular day, I wasn't really paying much attention to her as I was busy throwing together that night's dinner of gruel and a crust of bread (and just grateful she didn't have that super-silly song playing at top volume). Izzy's just chattering away, playing with the magnets. Then something caught my attention. Loud and clear, I hear my 2-year old say "Ayudame!" And for those of you who didn't take 4 years of Spanish in high school (and are not fans of Dora), "Ayudame!" means "Help me!"

Sure enough, Izzy's got one animal half chasing the other animal half all over the refrigerator. Not only were the magnets crying for help in Spanish, there were also cries of "I in trouble!" and "Oh no!" Clearly a Hollywood-style chase scene going on--with subtitles--in my own kitchen!

Thank you, Dora the Explorer. My kid is now cute not only here, but also in Mexico.

Recuperation Process

Now that we've been virus-free for a week, you'd think I'd have more time to blog. Nope. Now I've got to get caught up on the huge disaster that my house has become in the last three weeks. And now I'm training a co-worker to do my job (we're switching responsibilities--we do this in the department at least once a year to help with training and back-filling for absences and such). The training has taken up most of my time at work, and I'm running on practically zero clean laundry at home, so the blog has been feeling neglected lately.

And it didn't help that I had a very busy weekend, so the house went from "barely livable" to "CHAOS" (Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome). And the blog hasn't been touched. Hey, it happens.

Our union and the company finally came up with a tentative agreement. Last Saturday morning I had to go to a Union meeting to listen in on all the changes (and lots of greedy griping) and vote. Fortunately, the Union did not make the membership wait until the end of the meeting to vote (as in contract year's past). I guess they knew they had to be lenient since the meeting was on a Saturday and most people have plans on Saturdays. So I stayed about an hour, voted, then had to rush home to pick up Mary and another Brownie from our Girl Scout troop to go to a Brownie Carnival. Despite a nay-saying campaign, the contract DID pass. Lots of changes (a good portion of which is affecting my day-to-day job duties). Lots of questions. Lots of headaches back here in my "dungeon" of an office (yeah--we're seven chics in a secure, locked-in area--with NO windows).

A few changes ARE for the better and may present me with an interesting opportunity in the next few months. Won't say much more. The way my luck goes, the opportunity will be taken away before I even try to go for it (@#$% seniority), and then I'll have built up all this hope for nothing. So....we'll see what happens.

Sunday John and I dedicated to Mary. Mary's report card came last week, and John and I had a parent/teacher conference last Friday. Our first-born is still rockin' it in first grade. Way, way ahead in language arts, and even doing great in Math skills. So we took Mary (oh, and the other two) out to lunch and to Adventure Landing. It's like a Put-Put and Chuck E. Cheese's combined. Of course, we didn't golf since it was still snowy and freezing from winter's usual, last attempt at a snowstorm that came our way Friday night, but we played tons of games and won tons of tickets to get 4 cheap-a$$ toys. Izzy was the star of the day, though. We put a token in the Spongebob machine, and she hit the button and scored the big win--125 tickets! She grabbed those tickets and ran all the way to the other side of the building to show off to Daddy--the line of tickets trailing around the corners behind her. Mary and I were cracking up.

I also gave Mary a bunch of new earrings and an earring tree. She liked that even better than the trip to Adventure Landing. :-)

Another development after the month of sicknesses: Mary is now afraid of the dark (again). It's MY fault, of course. You see, this last month, we've been watching a lot of movies. After the kids made it through the first Harry Potter with no permanent scars, John decided to go ahead and let Mary watch the second. She seemed to make it through fine. Then one of the days I was home with her, I let her watch the third. I did the same speal: it's a movie; it's pretend; people in costumes; pictures made with computers; dementors aren't real; etc. Well, the last two weeks, we've noticed Mary now doesn't want to walk upstairs (or downstairs) by herself, she doesn't want to be alone while she's in the bathtub, she has started waking us up or crawling in bed with us in the middle of the night again. She hasn't done this consistently like this since we lived in the townhouse. Yes, it's apparently MY fault for letting her watch Prizoner of Azkaban (even though Chamber of Secrets was watched without MY permission). I do feel bad for the poor kid. Last night I made sure she had a flashlight and even gave her Izzy's Glowworm to cuddle in the night. She made did make it through the night. Then Keith rudely woke her up this morning by turning on their bedroom light (Seriously! We do this routine every morning! Why would he forget and turn on the light TODAY?), so I told her she could go ahead and crawl in bed with John. Let's hope we extinguish this fear quickly..... I feel sorry for her, but I need my sleep!

Feeling Tentatively, Knock-on-wood Lucky

Mary woke up fever-free yesterday. She went to school and actually made it through the whole day without a visit to the nurse!

Izzy broke her fever Sunday--she really only had it for about a half day--and then was fine and medicine free the rest of the day. I warned my day care provider yesterday to keep an eye on her because I didn't trust my luck. No phone call--the kid was fine all day.

Hmmm....maybe being exposed to the nasty virus for the last two weeks helped her build up a bit of an immunity so that she only suffered for a half a day? Maybe it's teething. 'Cause when there's something weird going on with a baby/toddler's health, and you can't figure it out, you can always blame it on the teething. Hmmm...she did seem more drooly lately than normal....

Even John seems to be lucking out with just a few sniffles. Figures. He should PAY after leaving me with sick kids to go out of town to draft a fantasy baseball team. Hmph!

Perhaps the bug made a run for it while we were at the library the other day. (My desperate attempt to at least get OUT of the HOUSE for a little while. But instead of enjoying a peaceful, quiet time looking for books, I spent that hour chasing Keith and Izzy as they chased each other in the kids' section. Then Keith left his hat there, and we had to turn around and go back and get it. He still doesn't understand why I didn't let him borrow any books...!). Anyway, the virus must have decided it was sick of the Q family for the last three weeks (as I still say I caught this deadly thing from my brother) and decided to settle itself on a book or audio tape for the next non-suspecting kid to pick up. 'Cause you know the only way to rid oneself of the nasty Virus Ring is to take it to a public place where it can have more opportunities to branch out and infect more people. Here's my gift to you, Penfield!

Other folks I've talked to here and there have also had the deadly Virus Ring and report, like me and my brother, that it was the sickest they'd been in years.

Here's hoping that it really is GONE and not hibernating on the door knobs to spring out at the lesser-sufferers (i.e. Keith and Izzy) again....

Watch out! It's coming your way!

...the horror....the horror....

We are now on day SIX of Feverish Mary. Just at 100, but she's still miserable (and deserves an Oscar for her drama queen performance). Yeah--Mary is NOT the best patient.

But that's not the worst part. The worst part is that Izzy woke up at 2:00am crying--and with a fever of 102. I'm beginning to feel I'm in the "Virus Ring" horror movie. One person gets the nasty, cruel virus, has it for a sickening week, and THEN the bug crawls out of the TV and onto the next innocent to start another cycle.

Keith was the lucky one. He was only sick for a few days--and I'm still not sure how many of his feverish days were due to the shots he'd received instead of the virus. Maybe he was just going through both at the same time. But his ordeal only lasted about 4 1/2 days. That sure doesn't seem fair to his poor 6-days-sick (and apparently still counting?) older sister.

But what about Izzy? How long will HER ordeal last? Will I be employed by the end of the week? (No, my job is NOT accommodating. Bringing Mary to work is a HUGE no-no. But I had no choice in the matter, did I?)

At least Izzy is the best patient of the three--playing and running around and being just as silly now (with her Tylenol/Motrin boosters) as she normally is. Even without the meds and with a fever of 102, the kid can still crack a smile. Mary could learn a lesson or two from her younger sister.

The Virus Ring did seem to change its pattern just a bit here. John's got the sniffles now, too. Perhaps the sickies can all stay home now while I attempt to build back up my good reputation at work.

I'm not counting on my luck.

The GERMS are here! The GERMS are here!

Mary woke up Tuesday morning cranky and with a fever of 100. Her only complaint was a sore throat. John stayed home with her, and by the time I got home from work she was at 102.5. Wednesday was my "turn". She was still feverish, and I stayed home with her. By lunchtime, she was feeling and acting fine--and only at 99, so I thought she'd kicked it. FOOL. By six o'clock that night she was back up to 102. Thursday, John couldn't get out of some meetings, so I had to stay home again (my boss took pity on me and "bent the rules" a bit to let me take an emergency vacation day even though someone else was already off. TWO unpaid days in one week is a bit much--er, technically, not much at all!). I took the poor kid (who by now had a cough and the sniffles added to her slowly growing list of complaints) to the doctor. Office strep test: negative. What? The pediatrician gave Mary a handful of sample antibiotics to start just in case the strep test that goes out to the lab comes back positive. (If it comes back negative, she doesn't take anymore; positive, we have to pick up a prescription.) Other than that, there is nothing that could be done for the poor sick girl--whose temp was at 103.6 while we were at the doc's. The doc says she just must have a very, very nasty cold (ring any bells with the crap I had last week?).

Today John is leaving to go to Maryland for his fantasy baseball league. But Mary is still sick with a fever. And I can't have the day off as the only other person in the whole freaking office who knows how to do my job is out of town (unpaid--as we had that other person on vacation this week, remember?). Great. Now what? John took care of Miss Sickly until 12:00, then brought her to work for me. Then when I got my work done, I could go home. Great thing to spring on your boss--bringing a super-sick, possibly contagious kid to work because your husband has to go out of town.

Don't think I'll be getting any promotions anytime soon.

What. A. Dump.

I spent the weekend attempting to recuperate from the unbelievably nasty cold I'd picked up either a) from my brother, b) from my aunt, c) from the tons of people to which I was exposed in all those airports/airplanes, or simply d) from the grocery store across the street.

I was so sick last week I actually took a day off on Thursday (and should have stayed home Wednesday as I ended up with a slight fever). I haven't taken a sick day in well over 2 years. The last sick day I took was when I ended up in the hospital while passing that @#$% kidney stone when I was 7 mos pregnant with Izzy (never EVER want to go through that again). Anyrate, I don't get sick too often and don't usually miss work for minor colds. So what I'm saying is: this cold kicked my @$$.

I felt better Friday, but probably should have stayed home anyway. Keith had his physical at the pediatrician on Wednesday morning and (as always) ended up with a 103 fever due to his shots. The fever went down Thursday night but was back in full force Friday morning. If I'd known THAT was going to happen, I would have just mailed it in for the day and stayed home snuggled on the coach with Keith. As it was, John got the duty of picking up Fever Boy from day care and staying the afternoon with him.

Anyway, I actually felt worse Saturday and Sunday than on Friday. Therefore the house is a complete DISASTER. With my being sick last week and then being out of town (and tired from said trip) the week prior, the house has gone from "lived-in" to "scary." The dust! The dirt! The sink full of dirty dishes! The trash that needs to be taken out! The LAUNDRY! OH MY GOD, THE LAUNDRY! Piles and piles of dirty clothes, clean clothes that need to be folded and put away, clean clothes that ARE folded but need to be put away, and oh no, the laundry basket is full again but I can't even get up off the couch to do it....! Yikes!

And then to top it all off, Keith got over his 103 shot fever--to pick up my cold and the low-grade fever that goes with it. Then he was grumpy and whiny all weekend. John was going crazy having to deal with the sick wife and the sick, whiny son.

And despite all this, we managed to get the kids bathed, combed, and dressed up for the annual Christmas-but-oh-dear-now-it's-March pictures last Saturday. Keith cried the whole way, "I don't want to get my pictures taken!" I asked him if we waited until he felt better would he want to get them done then? He solemnly shook his head NO. Well, then we're doing it NOW and getting it done and over with!

Despite the sickly one and the other whiny one who didn't want a bath and didn't want her hair combed (i.e. Mary)--(and then we had Izzy at the other end of the scale being incredibly happy-go-lucky and just made us smile at her never-ending exuberance)--everyone did behave and smile, and the pictures turned out pretty well.

In case any of you are now thinking of calling the CPA on me, I did manage between Sunday night and last night to get SOME of the laundry piles and trash cleared out. I even cleaned the kitchen. Hey, as long as the kitchen's clean, I can fake everything else.

At least we didn't have the stomach bug hit (knock on wood--just THINKING that sets Murphy on the warpath directly to my home).

It takes all kinds

We've got a local radio station here with a morning show that does a bit called "War of the Roses." It's kind of sneaky. Usually a woman will call the radio station with the suspicion that her husband/boyfriend has been cheating on her. The female talk show host will then call the guy--while on the air--with the front of being a florist. She'll offer the guy a free dozen roses. The catch--to whom does he send the free flowers? Followers of the show come in and tell of these sneaky, cheatin' husbands who NEVER send their flowers to the "proper" recipients. Well, today's took the cake. The woman suspects hubby is cheating on her with his ex--the ex has called the house and has reportedly been seen at his place of employment a few times. He's also been an inattentive husband lately. The radio show host calls, lets out the bait, and the guy falls for it, BUT he requests to split the roses--send six to one girl and six to another! OK, well that's new! Um, to whom are you sending them? To two girls--that the wife has never even heard of! Great! At this point, of course, the wife gets in on the conversation. "Who are these girls?" "None of your business." "What!? I'm your WIFE!" "Who do you think you are putting me on the radio like that?" "What? Why are you not sending flowers to me--YOUR WIFE!" "Because you got fat!" Man continues to berate woman for having the audacity to put him on the radio like that.

But wait--it gets better. After a while, HIS MOTHER calls in DEFENDING the jerk. "He's a good, sweet man, and she should be lucky she's got him." "Men can send flowers to other women. My boss sends me flowers every week, and his wife doesn't care." "And no one in our family likes his wife, anyway!"

Sure, honey--but does your boss send flowers to women the wife doesn't know? And red roses? I think not! A big fight ensues, where the male radio show host tells Mommy dearest that her son is a total douche bag.

Seriously. You try to defend your stupidity by lashing out at the innocent (well, except for that horrible offense of getting FAT part) and then get your MOTHER to defend you. What a winner. Hope his girlfriends were listening and dumped him, too. Sheesh! Cheating on the girlfriends, too! And to think he doesn't think ONE of them is worth a whole dozen, either!

Aunts and Uncles and Cousins! Oh my!

My mother helped me find a not-quite-so-astronomical (but still painful!) fare, and so thankfully, I did get to go my grandmother's funeral.

But first, we had to do a super-quick celebration for Keith's fifth birthday (which was Tuesday) before I left. Keith got to open his birthday presents and eat a little bit of cake Sunday night, then John and I spent the whole day with him--and only him!--on Monday. We took him to the Strong Museum and then to see "Bridge of Tarabithia" (slight spoiler alert: it's quite depressing and probably a little too slow for a 5-year old). Our poor middle child definitely needs more two-on-one time like that. Despite the gloomy cloud hanging over my head, it was a good day. I could tell Keith loved spending time with just Mommy and Daddy.

I flew out Monday night and didn't get in to OK City until 12:30 am. I spent the next two days visiting relatives I hadn't seen in years and met many, many cousins and the like that I'd never met before. I got to see my brother (who was sick as a dog with the flu, unfortunately) whom I'd not seen in five years--since he came to visit me after the birth of my son, as a matter of fact.

The funeral was Wednesday, and it was a gorgeous day. 70s and sunny. The service was very nice. Of course, my Aunt Mary had to tell the pastor how my brother and I had dubbed Granny our "vicious grandma"--and he included it in the sermon. Granny was described over and over again as being "stubborn," "fiery", and--my personal favorite--"cranky-ish." Gotta love her.

I flew out Thursday morning on a 6am flight. Cripes! But that was the only flight I could get! And for the first time I actually got nauseous on an airplane while we were landing in Chicago AND while landing in Rochester. Chicago had a lot of turbulence due to high winds and Rochester was cloudy and snowy. I guess maybe that's why? I spent the rest of the day lying on the couch exhausted and with a jittery stomach. Only one hour time difference and I had jet lag?

I feel old.

My poor Granny. She just never seemed very happy in her life--except that she did have a great sense of humor that you got to hear every now and then. She NEVER would smile for a picture. But I got to hear a couple stories from my Great Aunt Imogene (just LOVE that name) about when she and Granny were younger and lived together (Aunt Imogene was actually my Granny's best friend--AND she married Granny's brother). Aunt Imogene said that Granny Cloda used to laugh all the time in the ol' days. Makes me sad that I only got to see glimpses of it from time to time.

My Great Aunt Helen actually found a picture of Granny smiling when she was young. Beautiful picture in black and white--and yet you could still "see" the red in her hair. I definitely GOT to get a copy of that picture. It's too precious.

My brother and I also looked up a couple of relatives from my Dad's side of the family while we were in town. Great Aunt Carolyn and Uncle David haven't changed ONE bit. It was great to see them.

And then, oh my goodness, I just never realized how many cousins my mother had! I guess it only makes sense since her mother came from a pretty big family, but I had just never met them before! Wow.

I'm so glad I got to go to OK City.

Thanks again to all of you who expressed your sympathies.... I really appreciate that.

Oh, and just as a side note, I have a NASTY cold now. Guess it's to be expected since I just spent two days with a super-sick brother and Aunt Mary--not to mention four airplane ride and exposure to three different airports. BOUND to happen.

Ugh.

Cloda Dolores Cyphers

My Granny Clody passed away last night. She's about 86 or 87 (we've seen two years reported for her d.o.b., so I'm not real sure--wonder what the death cert. will list?). Granny was one tough broad. She was a spitfire of a redhead; she always told you exactly what she thought and exactly where to go. My brother and I used to call her our "Vicious Grandma". She revelled in the title.

Granny's been sick for many years. She's had several stokes and emphysema--although she was a heavy smoker to the end (even while on oxygen!). We first thought she was about to pass about seven years ago. Her health got really bad, and we prepared for it. Mary was just a baby, and I took her with me on a flight to visit Granny in Oklahoma City. But I got back and nothing happened. Stubborn Granny held on.

Almost exactly three years ago, I got on a plane again. Granny wasn't doing too well then, either. I didn't take any kids with me (Or so I thought. A couple weeks after I got back was when I discovered that I was pregnant with Izzy). Stubborn Granny held on some more.

There have been a few more times my aunt has called and said Granny wasn't doing well. My Mom would usually go, put up with Granny's verbal abuse, then stubborn Granny would pull through. We all used to say she was just too mean to die!

My mother last saw Granny a month ago. My mother's brother Bobby had passed--sad, sad life that guy. Mom went to Oklahoma City for the funeral. She wasn't there five minutes, and she and Granny were having it out. When she called me later, I told her, "Ma, you know she's never going to change! All you can do is laugh about it!" And we did. Good ol' Granny. Still staying stubborn and vicious even after all these years.

It was probably the death of her son--not the youngest (my mother has that title), but definitely her "baby"--that finally wore Granny down. She'd already lost a son 10 years ago, and I think losing this precious one was just too much for her.

I'll miss her. I didn't get to see her a lot in the last several years since I live so far away now (in fact, I probably won't get to go to the funeral since air fare is so astronomical and unbelievable, and it's just NOT FAIR). But I'll always remember sitting there in her tiny house--and later in the nursing home--while she sat and smoked and told us all exactly what she thought--and exactly where to go.

Wherever you are now Granny, I'm sure you're giving 'em hell!

Holp me!

Within the last few weeks, Izzy has been graduating from gibberish baby talk--with a recognizable world here and there--to actual three-word sentences. Even though it's gradual (and I've witnessed this phenomenon two other times), I still can't get over the fact that I can basically have a conversation with the kid now.

I just love this phase--when she is learning something new every day and just gets cuter and cuter. I don't even really mind the temper tantrums--they aren't so many (or, as a "veteran" mother am I just more immune to them?). The learning and cuteness moments outweigh the frustrating moments.

So last night, I'm lying on the couch, and Izzy decides to climb up with me. Not from the side of the couch, mind you, but from over the arm of the couch by my feet. She's struggling and trying to get her one foot over the edge to hoist herself over and just can't do it. John and I are laughing just watching her. She's not listening to my logical "Try it from over here, honey." No, she's determined. Then she looks at me with this pitiful face and says, "Holp me, Mommy! Holp me!" (just LOVE her mispronunciations as she's learning to talk). I reach down, grab her hand, and help hoist her over the edge. She immediately crawls right up to my lap, gives me a big hug, and says, "You save me, Mommy!"

NOW we've created a new game. I have to proceed to "holp" and "save" her for the next 10 minutes. I started to get tired of the game and tried once again to show her the logic of climbing up the short side. Oh, no--can't ruin the game now! She starts crying--but it's so obvious it's fake, I can't help but laugh and "holp" her one more time. Oh, she's a little stinker. She's knows just how to play me.

John keeps saying, "I don't remember the other kids being so cute!" But I do. I specifically remember Keith being a freaking ham (and still is)--causing us to say "oh, let's go ahead and have another." I will NOT fall for THAT cuteness trick again!

Record Breaking

20.6 inches of snow fell yesterday in Rochester. Most snow fall in a 24-hr period in the month of February. Yes, 'cause we've had days in January and MARCH where it was MORE than that.

Yes, our first winter living here, John and I got to witness a huge storm on March 4, 1999. Something like 22.5 inches. That was a crazy year. We moved to Rochester in July. Labor Day weekend there was a huge wind storm that knocked out the power in the city--we didn't have power for five days. Then it was a very dry winter. Here John and I had heard how bad the snow was up here in Rochester and were giving each other quizzical looks over the lack of it. Until we got hit with two blizzards (close to the same size as this one) for two different days in February--and then that day in March. Very, very weird weather.

That should have been our first warning to get the heck out of Dodge. No, instead we stuck around--and had a few kids. What dolts!

Anyway, on our trip home last night, Keith and I counted TWENTY vehicles off the road. It was un-freaking-believable. Especially since the roads were pretty clean and didn't really seem to be that bad. Stupid people driving.

Today the winds are supposed to pick up to 20-30 mph. And the wind chill is supposed to be 15 below or lower. Most of the schools were canceled, but Mary still had to go. Happy late SAINT Valentine's Day, kid!

Retail industry feeling the pain

One co-worker has a mom who manages a Hallmark store. She's all in a tizzy since this is one of their busiest days of the year, and now probably no customers will show up due to the small fact that we got a FREAKIN' BLIZZARD going on. Of course, I'm laughing to think of those poor schleps who waited until the last minute to buy their "nearest and dearests" a gift and are now stuck giving her a slim jim and a coke. I wonder how many accidents today will be due to the guys stuck with those high maintenance chicks and are therefore having to brave the elements and their necks to get that "perfect gift" or else check their "package" at the door.

I must remind my husband AGAIN how lucky he is that I am LOW maintenance and could give a rat's ass about SAINT Valentine's Day. (Or I am the worst kind--I AM high maintenance but I THINK I'm low maintenance? No comments on that from the peanut gallery please. I would like to live in my little dream world a little longer, thank you.)

Point of Interest

This is the second "snow day" of the year for Mary. Usually, the school system builds in around 3 extra days just for this purpose. IF this lovely weather continues, and they cancel too many days, it may cause the school year to stretch out longer at the end of the year--which will interfere with the proposed June 21-24 dates for Geekfest.

Hey, I'm NOT missing Geekfest. Mary'll just have to miss a few days at the end of the year--when I'm sure they'll just be playing bingo or hangman or whatever anyway.

...Maybe we'll be lucky and they'll just cut the winter or spring breaks short.

I made it in this morning

There was at least 4-6 extra inches on my driveway this morning. I'm grateful most of my drive is on the highway because the roads were pretty clean. The side streets weren't even too bad. Everyone behaved themselves this morning in my path to the sitter and to work--drive was pretty steady and smooth.

At one point I was on a back road behind a snow plow. I had to stay way back. Everything the poor guy was plowing was blowing right back onto the road. And right behind him, I'm driving directly into a big white cloud--visibility negative. Keith thought it was cool.

When I got up this morning at 5:15, I checked the news and Mary's school wasn't closed--Rochester City Schools, but not Penfield. This was really no surprise as even though there was snow on the ground, it didn't look too bad outside. I meant to check the news again before I left, but I didn't get a chance. I left about 15 minutes earlier than normal--and got to work about 10 minutes late. (Not too bad, actually. Darn snow plow slowed me down!) But I get here, and the girls start talking, and then I come to find out that they DID eventually close Mary's school this morning (two of my co-workers have kids in the same school district). ARGH! Quick phone call to John: he's going to stay home with her and try to work from home.

No Girl Scouts tonight. Darn!

We're supposed to get another 4-8 inches before the end of the day. Wonder what the drive home will be like?

Big Storm's A-Comin'

Went to the grocery store on my lunch with a co-worker just to pick up a few things. We're short on milk (um...house with three kids--we're ALWAYS short on milk) and I was craving pot pies for dinner tonight. Wow. The store was PACKED. Not only are we contending with the last minute oh-crap-I-haven't-bought-her-anything-yet-for-Valentine's-Day rush, but everyone is in a panic mode due to the lovely storm heading our way.

As my co-worker and I got headed back to work, she looked down at her gas gauge and realized, "Whoa! I'm in the red!" She dropped me off and headed to the gas station just down the road. Took her over 20 minutes. Each lane was stacked THREE cars. Glad I filled up yesterday.

Anyrate, they are predicting the storm is supposed to hit around 5:00 tonight. If that's accurate, I will have to race to get home before it hits. Nothing I hate more than being stuck in traffic on the highway with the kids in a snowstorm.

Odds are, school will be out for Valentine's Day. And then I would have to cancel our Girl Scout meeting--two meetings in a row. I don't even mind. The weather's been so cold and crappy in general, it's not phasing me to miss a few Girl Scout meetings ONE BIT. :-)

Date Night

John and I went out on a date Friday night. A real, honest-to-gosh, had-to-find-and-pay-for-a-babysitter, just the TWO of us, night all to ourselves. The world must be coming to an end. John and I haven't gotten a real babysitter and gotten out of the house together for almost two years! I mean, we went to the movies when we were home last November, but I don't count that since the kids were already in bed at Grandma's, so it was more of a "sneak out"--and we didn't have to pay for the sitter.

We spent our night of "freedom" at a concert at the armory. Let me say, Rusted Root kicks ASS in concert!!!! We weren't sure how to conduct ourselves without the kids. We walk in and are accosted by a security guard armed with a marker and the question, "Are you folks planning on drinking?" No! Wait! Uhhh, I don't know.... John??? Well, no, I guess not. Thankfully, the guy figured out the uncertainty on our faces and said, "Well, if you change your mind, just show your IDs to buy your beer tickets," as he marked a big "X" on our hands. Not ten minutes later, John's craving a beer. Well, DUH! So I went up and got a "beer stamp" on my hand and bought two $5.00 beers. I only drank half of mine and got to feeling fine (absolutely no tolerance anymore after all the years of pregnancies and nursing and therefore no drinking), so John got a little bonus beer. Then the groupie standing behind us kept filling John's cup, too.

I didn't even feel real ancient as there was quite the age span there--from 16-year olds to some very "mature" hippies. The groupie standing behind us (he goes to ALL the Rusted Root concerts, man!) was at least late 50s or early 60s--and quite "lit." As were ALL the folks standing around us. I was beginning to think John and I were the only ones in the whole place not lighting up.

I must say again, Rusted Root was AWESOME. Spot on and just incredible live. I may have to go out and buy their live album now. The opening band was pretty good, too. Can't remember their name, but they had a fiddler and a pretty good sound.

The kids behaved for the sitter (of course--they are always angels around others). The only mishaps was some spilt hot chocolate (Keith does it EVERY time--no surprise there) and Izzy waking up right before we got home crying and looking for us. The baby sitter managed to calm Izzy down and get her to back to sleep (oh, she's a keeper!).

So we thoroughly enjoyed our night sans children and are hoping to repeat it sometime before another two years go by. Let's hope!

Rusted Root tickets: $47.00
Beer: $10.00
Babysitter: $30.00

A night without children: oh--you know the rest. :-)

I must be a Superstar....

...or at LEAST a "hair" model. That's the impression the stylist tried to leave me when I finally broke down yesterday and got a haircut. Yes, due to the time constraint that is my life, it's been about six months since I got a haircut. (And thankfully, I have the type of style where I can pull that off!) Part of the problem is that we moved, and I haven't been brave enough to try new stylists out where we live. I loved my beauty shop in Scottsville--local ladies with local gossip (one girl sends her son--who is only two months older than Izzy--to the same daycare) and reasonable prices. Not really knowing where to go out in Penfield, and not really having time on the weekends to go anyway, I decided to take the plunge and get my hair cut at the mall yesterday during my lunch hour. I've had issues with Regis in the past--those girls never seemed to listen to what I wanted--so I was brave and went to JCPenny's.

What was I thinking? First off, this is a "SALON", not just a beauty shop across the street. That word should be spelled $ALON. I knew I was in trouble the second I walked in and heard my stylist selling products to the client trying to get out the door. Great. Can I really afford to be in here?

Well, heck with it! It's been six months since my last hair cut! I think that merits a real salon-type cut!

That's when the fascination began--of my stylist with my beautiful hair. I shouldn't complain--it's not often I get someone throwing that many compliments out to me like that. But then the "selling" began. While she washed my beautiful hair, I got chastised for using a certain brand shampoo because it has plastics in it--and therefore damages it and wears it down. (I'm not sure if she recognized my wry smile when later during my beauty treatment she was recommending a product to me which is made of silicone.) Yes, I got a nice, detailed description of every product she used in my hair--I counted at least seven from wash to blow dry. But I got to give her some credit. She wasn't really nagging at me to buy these things, she was just telling me about them in great description--you know, just in case I might want to buy them.

I had her dry my hair since it was negative temperatures outside with the wind chill. She dried and straightened my naturally wavy hair into a very sleek style (with help of said silicone-based product). I must say, I looked great. I was kind of embarrassed to have such a nice coiffure when I was wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and my snowboots--just didn't fit! Not to mention having to put my hat on such perfect, beautifully-styled hair, so I could get to the car without my head freezing off.

Yes, I enjoyed my little foray into the world of superstar models. Too bad the modeling agency or movie producer wasn't footing the bill for me, though. What do they do--charge you $5 for every product they use? No, I shouldn't complain. I know of a few girls at work who pay more than I did (silly, silly women!). But I really do need to start talking to some of the moms I'm running into to find a decent stylist that I can afford. *sigh* It was fun while it lasted.

Tensions are Mounting

Contract negotiations are NOT going well--at least that's the impression my Union is leaving us. And, yes, my particular work group's job is certainly one of the "bargaining chips." Just since Monday we've lost our work and then gained it right back! It's causing quite a stir here in the office as management and union members are getting catty and pointing fingers. Not good. I try not to get swept up in all the hype, as I know that up to the midnight hour of negotiations, any kind of proposal can be thrown on the table and accepted or declined. All I know for 100% sure right now is that our one-week contract extension runs out at midnight tonight--and the company and the union are no where NEAR tackling most of the main issues. Hopefully, they will extend again (for a more reasonable period of time than a week!) and get the ball rolling. Until then, I'm keeping in mind one of my acquaintance's sayings, "There are two good jobs: the one you're leaving, and the one you're going to." Getting laid off or a huge pay cut may just be the kick in the pants I need to make some much-needed changes in my life!

WOO HOO!

Yay! Colts won!

Of course, the second half of the game was so boring, I dozed off on the couch when there were five minutes left. Not even the commercials kept my interest. Pretty blah event, but I'm still pretty psyched that the Colts did it. And Prince was pretty cool.

I'm sure I would feel the hype more if we were living in Indiana, but the fact is, I almost forgot this WAS Super Bowl Sunday. Inexcusable, I know.

Bitter cold here. Most of the schools were closed today. Not Mary's, though. Most of the kids at her school are bussed, so I guess they didn't feel the need to close. Of course, Mary has a very long walk from her stop to her sitter's house. John decided to pick her up from school instead (I did find out when I called that her sitter WAS planning on meeting Mary at the stop in the car; just too far to walk in this cold). BRRRR!!!!

We let the older two kids watch the first Harry Potter this weekend. Now, I'm pretty sure that we let them see it last year--but with the disclaimer, as always that this is just PRETEND with guys in costumes and animation and such--no REAL monsters here! Now I'm thinking maybe it was only Mary we let watch the movie. Anyway, they watched and enjoyed it thoroughly. Keith needed constant reminders of the "just pretend; guys in costumes" as he seemed to get nervous while watching it. Mary was fine--until the movie ended. Then it was time for bed, and I swear I kept expecting her to wring her hands she was so anxious that she might might have nightmares. All the calm, blue-in-the-face assurances of "fake, NOT real, PRETEND, GUYS IN COSTUMES" etc. did nothing to appease her. I think she actually worked herself into being scared. Next thing I know, she's crawling in bed with me (yeah, I was an exhausted wimp Saturday night and went to bed at 9:00).

Sunday Keith and Mary spent almost the whole day playing "Harry Potter." Keith was in his element playing Harry and Voldemort (complete with pretend "face" on the back of his head). No more anxious behavior from Mary. She did ask when she could see the second movie. Well, I guess when she gets through the first one without ending up in my bed kicking me all night! Anyway, now I'm sure we've started a trend. I'm expecting to see the "Harry Potter" game being played every day for the next three months. Wouldn't surprise me if Keith wants to be Harry the next Halloween...

The Raw Chicken Conspiracy

All you mothers know what I'm talking about here. It's the phenomenon where you've just come off a quasi-vegetarian diet, so you decide to actually fix chicken for dinner for the first time in well over a year. Forgetting the conspiracy, you nonchalantly open the package of chicken breasts, take 'em out, put them on the cutting board, and get your hands all over their sliminess while cutting off all the gnarblys (as co-worker calls them), and paring them into more manageable, kid-friendly pieces. Suddenly, elbow deep in salmonella and other funky bacteria juices, you hear the call/scream from the other room. ONE of the children has just gone poopy and needs you to wipe, or he/she ran around the corner WITH SCISSORS, banged into the armoire, and has an open, gushing wound OR more simply, your hair tie falls out and suddenly all your hair falls in front of your face--you can't pull it back due to the sliminess, but you can't leave it DOWN, either, 'cause then you're getting HAIR in your dinner!!!!

AUGH!!!!

The first event happened to me last night. I completely forgot about the conspiracy. And even worse, I KNEW the kid was on the potty. I kept checking and checking on her, but after no go for several minutes, I thought "Oh, I'll just start dinner while I'm waiting for her." Oh yeah. There's a REASON you don't want to start dinner until AFTER potty time. 'Cause Lord help you if you leave that kid sitting there for more than 15 seconds after they've gone. Not only does their butt get stuck in the butt insert, but then they start freaking out and might, just might, start viewing potty training as a scary, freaky event, stop doing it, and then not re-learn it again for another six months! It's a precarious time! You CAN'T screw it up!!

My friend Sybill had the second event happen to her. I completely forgot her words of foreboding and how she now wrangles every kid (she now has four) into one small circle and barks, "Whatever you do! Don't move! I'm touching the chicken now!"

Yes, I fell victim to the conspiracy again. But I remember now. I'll be more diligent now.

Dog Tired

Another exciting weekend of painting. Yes, I got brave and decided to get up on that ladder. John was busy with other household maintenance. I couldn't stand walking past that half-done room. So, another coat of orange, and one coat of blue at the top. Sounds scary, doesn't it? But actually, it looks quite nice. When we slap on that outer space border, it should bring it together (along with the comforter) quite nicely. If not, I don't care. I just want this room done! (Worse comes to worse, Keith could always become a Broncos fan. Ick!)

When not painting, I was tackling the non-stop laundry. Seriously, WHERE do all these clothes come from? Even when I attempt to do a load a day, I STILL can't keep up. There is absolutely NO reprieve here!

I also bundled up the kids and let them play out in the snow yesterday. They had a ball. Until Keith accidentally got hit in the face with a snowball (um...by ME). We all tried to be careful after that, but it's not easy for a seven and (almost) five-year old to control their aim--especially when the snow was just powder--and then the seven-year old realizes just how much the five-year old hates it! Izzy had a lot of fun picking up snow and throwing it at me. "I got you!" she'd say. What fun.

But, oh, I was completely achy and exhausted last night. I tried going to bed early, but I still couldn't sleep. Then the alarm didn't go off this morning. Then the mini-van wouldn't start (probably from sitting in the cold garage all weekend?). So then I was late for work--um....more than usual.

Yeah, I'm beat.

Rooms and Contracts

I actually got another coat of paint up in Keith's room on Saturday. I'll have to do a third though, because you can still see a little pink showing through here and there. John has to do the top 1/4 of the room, which is being painted a different color. Anyone who knows me knows I should NOT attempt painting while standing on a ladder. While it would be amusing for most bystanders--or maybe America's Funniest Home Videos--I'm in no mood to go out with a back injury just now. So, here's hoping we get more done this weekend and maybe get the kid his bedroom by his the time he's five--um, in four weeks.

Sunday we were feeling a bit boxed in, so we took the kids to the science museum. John and I get bored with it when they haven't changed exhibits and planetarium shows in a while, but the kids still have a blast there. That wore us all out so much, we ALL took a nap. No Sunday painting, sorry.

It's snowed every day this week with more coming. I'm not minding it since it's just been steady and nothing major. Three years ago we had over 100 inches of snow in just January alone. I'd HAD IT with snow by this point that year!

I'm in a union here at work, and we're going through contract negotiations right now. As always, it gets pretty ugly in the early stages. Right now we've got one department that's probably getting shut down (really not new news since our company is building a new customer service center in Florida right now), and the company is even talking about taking away the work MY department does. They are claiming no lay-offs, but I'm not sure what my department will DO if they take away those responsibilities--unless of course the company REALLY means that they are going to make our jobs non-union and force us to go management. THAT would be interesting. I'm trying not to worry or speculate too much yet since many proposals get dropped or changed or "forgotten" before the actual contract gets signed. Anyway, there may be big changes coming my way by the spring. We'll see....

Playing Catch-up

It's been a very busy week in the Q household, so I've been slackin' on the blog lately (not so much as OTHERS, though!). Here's what's been goin' on.

Let's see, I had Monday off work for the MLK Holiday (which meant I had to put in a couple of hours OT on Sunday), and since Mary was also off school, I kept all three kids home with me. I'm glad I did. The weather was so crappy, I didn't want to go anywhere. So I decided to take advantage of nap-time and actually take a crack at painting Keith's room--which hasn't been touched since October. Between all the fall yard work, not quite liking the initial design, and just general laziness, we just haven't even walked in there (except to hide a x-mas gift) for a while. I only got one coat of paint done (hey, there's only so much you can do when you're limited to a 2 hour sleep session), but at least SOMETHING has been done in there. Maybe over the Sat/Sun naps I can manage to squeeze in a little more painting this weekend. Not holding my breath.

Tuesday night Mary had her first violin concert. Of course, we couldn't HEAR her since there were 20 OTHER first and second-graders playing simultaneously, but she seemed to do pretty well from what we could see. Izzy spent the whole concert (which lasted less than an hour, thankfully) fidgeting, chatting, and flirting with the people sitting behind us. I was quite frazzled trying to keep her "contained." Methinks next time we'll attempt to find a baby sitter.

I got some bad news this week from my kin in Oklahoma City which makes me reflect on my life and how different it could have been if my parents had stayed there. Or maybe my parents were good parents after all (no way!). Well, I'm pretty thankful that they must have done SOMETHING right, and my brother and I turned out pretty well. You go, Folks! ;-)

Notice to all: I went ahead and "penciled in" June 21 & 22 as vacation days for Geekfest. If I have to take the kid out of school for her last day: so be it. She's only in first grade. These are the years I can still get away with it! If we don't go that weekend, that's fine--I thought I'd just go ahead and mark it just in case.

MR would be jealous of our snowfall. Still not Rochester norms, but at least we can use the snow thrower if we want to. John's been working a lot of late hours this week, so he hasn't used it yet--but the option is there! Maybe he'll catch up this weekend.

Back to Business

The Girl Scouts have finally gotten it together and scraped together a troop for Mary and me. And what a troop! Basically, they're putting all the "leftovers" from our school district into this one troop. (I guess most of the troops around here were just too full for newbies.) So far it looks as if I'll have girls from three or four different elementary schools--and they range in age from kindergarten to third grade! Thank goodness another mother volunteered to be the co-leader right away. There is no way I could have handled that kind of hodge-podge troop on my own. But with only five months left in the school year, I'm hoping it won't be so bad. How weird that I will have to teach all the fundamentals to one half of the room while at the same time get the other half ready to bridge to the next level! Well, THIS will be interesting!

More barfing flu sitings

Mary's teacher and HER daughter had the barfing flu last week. Not even a six degrees of separation going on here, folks. Soon we will all be DOOMED.

DOOMED, I SAY!!! DOOMED!!!!

Ugh, is that why I don't feel well today?

Took having three kids for me to become a hypochondriac.

Going on a Treasure Hunt

We are supposed to register Keith for kindergarten this week (already?!). One problem: can't find his birth certificate. Actually, I can't find ANYONE's as they are all kept together in a pink manilla folder along with the kids' social security cards and our marriage certificate. I KNOW I had the darn thing last July--in fact the week we moved--'cause that was when I had to pull out Mary's birth certificate to register HER at her new school. The folder was not in all the obvious places, so this weekend I determined I had to begin the search.

I probably spent two hours Sunday looking for that darn pink folder. I started by going through all the "computer desk" boxes that are still piled up around John's computer desk. That would be the obvious place for it, since that's basically where we keep the darn thing when we're actually unpacked and organized. Then I started on the piles of boxes in the basement--just in case the folder got set in one when they were all sitting in our den and then got moved down there.

This is what I found:

1. My elusive address book (yay!)
2. Keith's most-missed Spongebob slippers
3. AAA batteries (needed for Mary's mermaid toy she got for X-mas)
4. A dead mouse (poor thing probably hadn't been there too long....)
5. The baby books
6. Our photo albums and miscellaneous to-be-hung-up pictures

What I did NOT find:
1. The @#$% pink folder with all our important stuff

I finally told John "I give up. You can search later." I figured I would just register Keith without the birth certificate and take it over later when/if we found it (or had to order another copy from City Hall).

Later, after the kids had gone to bed and I'm folding laundry upstairs (the never-ending cycle), John comes up and throws a big pink folder in my lap. "Took me five minutes!" he claims triumphantly. Where the freak was it???? In the stupid "computer desk" boxes piled around his desk--in the VERY FIRST ONE he looked at. WHY didn't *I* find it?? No clue. I SWEAR I looked in every single one of those boxes (and multiple times over the last week and half since I've known I needed it).

*sigh* Must be the sinus headache that I've had for the last MONTH.

I give up.

Borg Germs

Resistance is Futile.

Izzy didn't take to her antibiotics. She was fine in the morning, but every evening, she would just crash and become feverish, clingy, and just plain miserable. We got her in to the doc Saturday morning, and sure enough--her ears hadn't cleared up AT ALL. The borg germs had assimilated the antibiotics and taken over. The doc gave her a prescription for a much stronger drug. After her first dose, she was immediately 100% better. Poor kid.

Our New Year's was spent playing Mario Kart and Guitar Hero with Mary and Keith. We watched the ball drop, then everyone went to bed. Not as exciting as New Years' past but still pretty fun.

John and I are now officially off the quasi-vegetarian diet--at least for another year. Frankly, I don't think we will eat much meat this year, either, but we're keeping the option open. We jumped the gun a day and used our Outback giftcard we got from John's Dad on New Year's Eve day. John ordered a steak. Remembering the LAST time we did this, and how my body did not take to the switch from no-meat to meat too well, I was more cautious and ordered the tilapia (most excellent).

So far my only "resolutions" are to start mall-walking again (did it for almost a year straight before my walking buddy stopped, and then I started to lose interest), and to continue to work on my patience/temper with my kids (the short patience always leading to the sharp temper).

Side note: another co-worker has fallen victim to the barfing flu today. Not good.

At least my cold is waning.