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| Here's the crew. Note the look of sheer excitement on their faces to be part of such an exciting project. |
It's recently become apparent that I've not been tapping into the full comedy potential of both my kids. When this occurred to me, I shared my new idea with the teenager and it automatically proved my point. This particular dialogue went like this:
Me: Guess what? I've just come up with a new feature for the blog!
T: Ok, what's that?
Me: Well, you know how I do "Conversations with little guy"?
T: Oh no, don't tell me you mean ...
Me: You see where I'm going with this right?
T: *Eye roll*
Conversations with Teenager: Snack Time
During swim lessons with little guy, Teenager and I had the following brief exchange.
T: I'm hungry.
Me: Oh, I brought snacks. Here's some crackers.
T: *Grimacing* Not those things, they're a weird flavor!
Me: They're not a weird flavor, they're soybean and seaweed.
T: Um, yeah. My point exactly.
LG: I want to be a wifeguard.
Me: Oh, does it look like fun to be a lifeguard?
LG: Yes, I wear a whistle around my neck and blow it like this *makes whistle sound*
Me: What do you say when you blow the whistle?
LG: I say; "No running!" and "Get out of the pool everybody! There's sharks in there!"
I'm pretty sure one of those was not overheard at our local pool. My guess is on an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants.
Apparently there’s been some amusement/excitement over some Old Spice commercials that I’ve somehow missed until just now. I guess there are times when I live under a rock. So, here’s a fun little video for those of you who haven’t seen it yet, followed by my own story below.
So, speaking of men and smells, here’s an amusing little slice of my life. Some time ago I began buying natural deodorant in an effort to avoid harsh chemicals. The Hubby also informed me that antiperspirants tend to make him break out for some reason as he’s apparently extra sensitive. So we tried several scents of various natural deodorants with vastly mixed results. Some smelled too “girly”, some flat out did not work, and others had some rather curious odors. I recall a time here a while back when I looked at my Hubby and asked what on earth was that smell? He stated that the new deodorant I’d purchased smelled worse than what it was designed to cover up and that I might want to try to find something that doesn’t smell bad from the start. So as not to duplicate my mistake, I asked him which particular scent this one was. His response; “I think it’s just called ‘Old Hippie’”.
The little guy recently recited his version of "Pat a Cake".
Patty cake, patty cake, baker's man
Bake it with a cat as fast as you can
Roll it, mash it and smash it with your feet
Put it in the oven for Baby to eat!
We were of course impressed that after changing the words around he was still able to make it rhyme!
I know I'm not alone in thinking there appears to be a little problem when it comes to men and putting clothing choices together. Now of course, there are plenty of men with great fashion sense, but we women are sure to know many, many more men who can't match a shirt with a pair of pants to save their lives. In fact, a lot of us are probably married to one of them.
Now, my husband was in the moderately fashion challenged category when we met (remind me to tell you sometime about the outfit he wore on our first date.) However, after years of coaching, he now does pretty well overall. Also, the fact that we haven't bought clothes in a long time makes it easy since he's been doing the exact same match-ups for years now so he's got it down.
The Teenager on the other hand has a more severe case. For your entertainment I've included photos of his latest atrocity. Let's take a look, shall we?
Here we have the shirt:
A black tee shirt with an argyle print. This would go nicely with a pair of black shorts or denim shorts.
So, what does he decide to pair it with?
Some patchwork, Hawaiian print shorts, naturally!
And in case you think I'm making this up or showing different parts of different outfits, here's the whole ensemble.
As you can see from the smile on his face, he wears it proudly.
What happens when you mix a Summer BBQ with friends, add some margaritas for the parents and then give the toddlers s’mores? Well naturally, hilarity ensues. Be sure to listen for what little guy says as he tried to get his hands unstuck.
In case anyone missed that, he says; "oh cwap" which we found hilarious. Of course, that could have just been the margaritas or the fact that we, as his parents, find little guy pretty darn entertaining most of the time. But the margaritas help.
Apparently this is now a yearly thing; the #@!* A/C going out. Readers may recall last year's entries ending with; It was the Flux Capacitor. Thankfully, at least this year it didn't happen during triple digits as it did two years ago when this not-so-fun tradition got its start.
This year's installment all started with a leak although the A/C was still cooling. All of sudden we had water dripping down from a recessed light fixture above the fireplace. The hubs swung into action and quickly discovered it was due to a clog in the emergency overflow drain. Once he unclogged it, water started dripping out the drain outside and onto the patio. Not so great for patio entertaining, but better than coming through the ceiling.
We called the repairman who supposedly fixed the leaking problem. Then things really went awry. Later that evening, we noticed the temperature in the house was getting hotter and hotter even though the A/C was running. Turns out while the repairmen were "repairing" (and I use that term sarcastically) they bumped something loose, broke something else and basically knocked out the whole system. So essentially, we went from having A/C before they "fixed" something, to having no A/C at all.
When we had them back, they discovered the coil was shot and leaking freeon. They had to order the new part, which meant going into day three of no A/C before it was finally fixed yesterday afternoon.
I'm just very glad the temperatures were within "we can make it through alive" range during this saga. Thankfully, it got fairly cool in the evening and we used our whole house fan to cool down the house for the night before it starting heating up again during the next day. We made a dinner that required no heat and for dessert we enjoyed these:
Another Trader Joe's favorite. Like a margarita on a stick...minus the tequila.
This summer we finally started the little guy on swim lessons.
Monday was the first day. The irony of having a teenage brother is that there's an excellent chance your swim instructor at the local aquatic center is right around his age, goes to school with him and knows him. Sure enough, Teenager informed me that little guy's swim teacher was in fact in one of his classes.
We've completed day three of lessons and so far, so good. It looks like he's quite comfortable in the water and is taking to learning the basics pretty well overall. We've had a bit of a challenge with him not wanting to get his ears wet, so we tried kids silicone earplugs which seemed to help.
The first day I was not prepared for a total lack of any shaded areas to sit. I'm not one to stay in direct sunlight for any length of time so I knew this was going to be a problem. So, since yesterday my solution is to haul in my folding chair and attaching umbrella. Apparently this embarrasses Teenager. I guess when your mom is pushing a stroller with your toddler brother that also contains folding chair and umbrella bags sticking out the side and then proceeds to set up said chair & umbrella combo poolside it's a spectacle you don't want to be associated with. It only gets worse when it's discovered that the sun is in exactly the perfect spot for the umbrella not to work as made, therefore it must be jimmy-rigged onto the side of the stroller and held in place by your sun-sensitive mother.
So to re-cap, I've provided swim lessons for the toddler, protection from skin cancer and embarrassment for Teenager. I'd say that's quite an accomplishment combo.
So, in an effort to get better on track with Potty Training, we implemented the brilliant plan; “Poop for Toys”. Basically, if you poop in the potty, you get to select a small toy from a specially created basket of items waiting enticingly outside the bathroom door. This plan has worked like a charm. Unfortunately, our toy supply has depleted rather quickly after a recent bout of diarrhea, something we did not take into consideration.
Most amusing however, was an incident that took place during our Memorial Day BBQ with friends. Little guy was playing inside with his two little buddies while Teenager supervised. Apparently, there was some sort of incident that involved an attempt at pooping on the potty, a missed target and one of little guy’s friends being sent outside with a dramatic message for us;
“Um, Teenager told me to tell you that little guy went poo poo. But he missed. A little. And there’s poop on the rug. And the wall. And he wants to know if he gets his toy now.”
While out grocery shopping today we stopped in the restroom. Of course, I take little guy in the stall with me. After getting some toilet paper, this brief dialogue took place:
LG: Mommy, why are you getting so much toilet paper?
Me: Well, little guy, girls need more toilet paper.
LG: Oh. Well, you’re only ‘spose to take a teeny-tiny bit.
Me: Yeah.. um.. well, I can see you've been talking to your father.
I’ve launched a new recipe and tips site for weight loss and maintenance!
Everything has Weight Watchers points included.
Check it out:
After looking at this it hit me….
Hilarity ensued.
So here’s a little something I’ve noticed…has this ever happened to you? You’re dealing with an individual on-line for a business transaction of some sort such as e-Bay, Etsy, some home-based businesses (Mary Kay, etc.) and you’ve waited a ridiculously long time for your item or order to arrive. When contacting the person, sometimes multiple times, you eventually get some variation of the following response back:
Dear Customer,
I am so sorry for the delay! Things have been crazy with ________________.
[Fill in the blank with one of the following:]
Seriously, I cannot tell you how many of these I’ve heard. The sad part is I guess I’m a sucker because I used to believe them and then feel really horrible that I bothered the person about my silly little order! I would immediately write back telling them how sorry I was for their loss, sickness, injury, etc, and not to worry about rushing my order off in the mail. Yeah. Well. I’m just not buying it anymore. Of course I’m sure sometimes these excuses are legitimate, but come on now! This is just a little too much to be coincidental.
I’m now deep into week two of the new job. So far I am making it through. Of course, the house is a disaster, I blow electrical circuits blow-drying my hair while hubby irons his shirt in the morning and by 7:30 pm I’m falling asleep while watching TV. And speaking of hair, this morning I was faced with a choice of either A) actually do my hair or B) take that time to eat breakfast. Let’s just say that a hair clip was used and I enjoyed a bowl of cereal.
So, naturally there are adjustments. I would like to state however that despite everything I have managed to get up each morning and get my walk in, something I’m pretty darn proud of if I do say so myself. I think it took an attitude adjustment to get to the mental commitment part of this down. You see, back when I was slacking and not getting my exercise in I would feel guilty every single time I missed a work out. It occurred to me that as much as I hated dragging my butt out of bed at an unholy hour, once I did it and got out there and did my exercise I felt great. So it finally sunk in that the downside of not working out was a feeling of regret and remorse yet there really was no downside to forcing myself to do it other than the momentary feeling of not wanting to get out of bed. Then there was another thought process about the excuses; generally that I felt I hadn’t had enough sleep the night before and needed to stay in bed. The thing is, another 30 minutes was just not going to make difference nor was there much of a chance I’d go back to sleep anyway. The fact is, there was a much bigger overall positive to getting up and getting in my exercise than staying in bed for 30 more minutes. I think it took examining all this for me to finally realize that there are some things you just need to do and sometimes you have to change the way you think about things in order to do them. Of course, I wish I could take this same attitude and apply it to a multitude of other things. But, one thing at a time. Baby steps.
I bet you all thought that once I got a job you’d never see me again and reading about the all the zany antics of my life would be over! Well, of course not!
I’m on day two in the first week of the new job. Thus far, I’ve not said or done anything stupid . One observation; the working area is a wee bit small. No, it’s not a cubicle, it’s actually the tail end of the counter of someone else’s workstation where someone placed a computer system, phone and rolled in a chair. Now mind you, I was not expecting a corner office with a window or anything, I mean, I am the newbie, I get that. Actually though, this is not the worst set up I’ve had. I thought back to a time many years ago when I started a new job for a large company in an oh-so-special state that's home to a famous musical family popular in the seventies. That job by far had the worst working area set up ever. I was hired for a brand new position which combined security with reception. It was very interesting. The idea was that I would be in the front office area of a large building that housed hundreds of employees. The employees would often check out equipment for use at home, testing, etc. It seems the company had a little trouble with the equipment actually coming back. (This is where I’d normally insert a snarky comment about the irony in the level of dishonesty for state and a community that prides itself on upstanding citizens, but I won’t do that.) So, they decided that I would have the duty of logging out the various items on a sophisticated computer system and making sure they were eventually returned and logged back in. A brilliant plan in theory. The trouble was, I had no computer. They wanted me to start doing this manually in a binder while sitting at - wait for it - a card table. That was my workstation. And naturally I looked terribly official in this capacity. Eventually I got an actual desk, phone and computer and was able to do my job instead of looking like I was there to sell cookies or take sign-ups for the softball game.
Returning to work after all these years is definitely taking some getting used to. For instance, I’m finding that my morning routine is going to need some tweaking and overhauling. It’s been tricky calculating when to get up so that I can manage to squeak in my workout, get myself looking presentable, have breakfast and drive to the office in time. In addition I have to also figure out when to actually go to bed so getting up the next morning isn’t impossible. Thus far, those times seem to be around o’dark fifteen and right after dinner respectively.
Now for those who might have been hoping to read all about the crazy co-workers and wacky office goings-on I’m afraid I have to disappoint you. I’ve learned from fellow mommy blogger Dooce that writing about work is almost never a good idea if you want to keep the job.
This Easter came during some very non-Spring like weather around here. This was really evident at the big Easter Egg Hunt when little kids came bundled up. My little darling was sporting his Easter short-all with a sweater. I doubt he even noticed a chill though, the way he heats up so quickly, he’s in constant motion! The hubby brought along his good camera to take some nice shots.
The pose on this one cracks me up; the Hubby said he actually did this on his own.
What I’m about to say only sounds like it could be an April Fool, folks. I will now be retiring my title of stay-at-home-mom. I got a job. I know! A job. One in which I will be required to get up even earlier than I do now, find and wear pants that fit, drive to an office and sit in front of a computer that will not be displaying my own web site. I will also be getting something I have not received in a very long time; a paycheck. Actually, I can’t really say I will be getting a paycheck because shortly after payday it will be turned around and deposited to the little guy’s new pre-school. Yes, I am working solely to enable to my child to go to pre-school this Fall, the year right before he enters Kindergarten.
So let me back up and tell you all how this happened. As dedicated readers know, little guy has speech delay and Sensory Processing Disorder. He’s been receiving therapy (both speech and OT) since age 18 months. In addition, at age three he started a speech pre-school that is part of the public school system. He’s attended this 5 day a week program since last August. He absolutely loves school and in fact has done so well academically and overall that his teachers and therapists state he will not need to continue with Special Education and in fact would do well in a regular pre-school. Unfortunately, “regular preschool” is not part of the public school system (though I think it should be!) and must be paid for at a private school. It’s not even within the realm of possibility for us to pay for pre-school out of our current resources. So, as much as I love being a stay-at-home-mom and was not at all considering returning to the working world at this point (beyond my side projects; SimpliSave, Draga Designs and of course, this blog) getting a job was the only answer. We felt strongly that not having the structure and opportunities of pre-school the year before entering Kindergarten would be a big social and academic setback. Little guy is at the top of his class academically and overall seems to be pretty darn smart. Of course we’re thrilled that he’s doing so well but we weren’t prepared for having to figure out what to do in order to keep him in a pre-school program.
A while back I started sending out resumes for positions which met pretty strict criteria. My attempt was to obtain a part time position (something that is surprisingly hard to find) for a local company (so I didn’t have to drive far) during regular business hours during the workweek (so I would be gone mostly during the time little guy was at school and have maximum family time outside work hours). I got one call for an interview and was offered that job. It was truly one of those “meant to be” situations. Now frankly, I’m a tad nervous to enter the work world after many years. I’m not even used to having adult conversations during the day and I just know that within the first week I’ll be asking a co-worker if they need to go potty and if their crankiness means it’s time for a nap. But this is a new chapter in my life and one that I think will be a big positive overall.
Stay tuned to see how this all unfolds. Because you just know there are going to be some interesting posts coming up! Oh, and even though “stay-at-home-mom” may no longer apply to “SAHM” for me, “Surviving Assorted Home Mayhem”, always will.
One of the things the Hubby and I enjoy is perusing our local thrift stores for interesting finds. So much of the time we run into junk but every once in awhile we discover a real treasure. We’ve found materials for use with our jewelry design business and interesting home décor items among other things. Recently we stumbled upon an old silver drink mixer/pitcher. It was different than the modern style because it actually had a pouring spout and a handle, unlike today’s cocktail shakers. It was very tarnished and didn’t look like much but we thought we’d found a great deal and bought it. The Hubby polished it up when we got home and it looked great!
Fast forward to last night. The Hubby was arriving home late from a business trip. As a special welcome home I thought I’d mix up a batch of martinis; his favorite cocktail lately. Naturally I decide to use the new pitcher. After carefully mixing the ingredients and proceeding to shake the contents I quickly discovered why this thing ended up at the thrift store in the first place. Apparently the lid, which fools you into thinking it actually holds the contents of the pitcher back, allows liquid to escape through the side where the spout is; a genius design right there. So, I now have alcohol shooting out the top and all over the bar. But wait, there’s more. This thing all of a sudden breaks apart, the lid flies off, the top comes apart and I drop the pitcher. Now there’s ice cubes and gin all over the floor and at this point there was more than a little swearing. After mopping up the floor and picking up all the ice cubes I decided to haul out the ingredients again and mix up a new batch in my old, boring cocktail shaker. When the Hubby arrived home I believe his comment was something to the affect of; “what happened at the bar and why do you smell like gin?” “Just drink your martini”, I said.
Spring has sprung around here. I adore this time of year when I can see blossoms on the cherry tree, little leaves springing up on the grapevine and the promise of some afternoons ahead lounging outside. It’s this time of year that I am so happy to get out of my winter shoes and boots (I actually hate wearing socks and enclosed shoes) and get into my sandals and flip flops. Naturally, this requires a pedicure. Thanks to the economy and a little thing we like to call “cutting back” I do all of these at home now. So, in anticipation of setting up shop for my pedicures the Teenager got me a footbath for Christmas. I was excited to use this thing for my first pedicure of the season. I set it up, filled it with water and stuck my feet in and the little guy wanted to know what I was doing. When he saw the whole soaking my feet routine he wanted to do it, of course. It was all Daddy could do to hold him back while he was taking off his little shoes and socks and attempting to jump in! But the cutest part of this scene was when I was done with my pedicure he said; “Mommy! I wuv, purple, it’s my faborite color! I want purple toes, too!”
Yes, it’s true. This day rolls around way too fast for me. Although my “official” B’day celebration will not be until later in the month due to scheduling issues, the little guy wished me Happy Birthday this morning in his own cute, now able to talk, voice. The day did not get off to the greatest start because as I was getting ready I bent over and ripped my pants. My new pants. On my Birthday. On my Weight Watcher’s meeting morning. The irony is not lost on me. There have been some other unfortunate, ill-timed incidents which I won’t announce over the Internet, but suffice it to say there’s nowhere to go but up.
So, after picking up the little guy I did something I almost never do. I went through the Mc Donald’s drive through. Hence, the title. But I’ll have you know I was pretty restrained, despite the “holiday”. I had a grilled chicken snack wrap and a small fries. Compare that to what I would normally have; a Filet O’Fish and a large fries. With Fry sauce. Now I’ve lost readers in 49 states and several countries with that last line. If you’re from Utah or Mormon (or more to the point, a Utah Mormon) you know exactly what I’m talking about. For those of you who’ve never heard of this condiment, fry sauce is mayo mixed with ketchup in proportions that make it a coral-pink color. Back in the day as a new Utah resident from California I was intrigued when I learned that Utahn’s must have their “fry sauce” with fries. When I heard what it was I thought it sounded gross, mostly because it reminded me of thousand island dressing (though without the chunks). Then I tried it and I was hooked. I swore I would not get caught up in “their crazy culture”, (like saying “squoze” and “Oh my heck!” ) but I did. I have to admit it. You see in Utah, at McDonald’s and other fast food places they actually have fry sauce already made and available; that’s how much people use it. Here in CA we have to make our own. But I figure when you rip your pants it’s a really good idea to skip the fry sauce.
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