Mommy Always Wins

Its like I'm finally learning or something.

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 28 Mar 2013 16:03:00 +0000

Last summer, I wrote a post confessing my DIY ineptitude.

I tend to think of myself as a creative person -- I write this here blog anyway, and was an art major for two years in college -- but I don't know...maybe its the execution I tend to fail at. (See photo of blue spray painted hand in that afore-linked-to post.) I think my flaws really lie in my wanting to cut corners and not spend all the money necessary to make something work. I see a can of spray adhesive at Wal-Mart marked at $7.89 and think, "Why spend eight bucks on something I'll probably only use ONCE when I have perfectly good glue sticks at home?!?"

I should really know by now that the $8 can of spray adhesive is worth oh so much more when it means I won't be going crazy chasing down the paper doilies that are blowing away in the breeze instead of sticking to the damn canvases I spent $22 on and with which I intend to make this "super cute and easy craft!"

My need to create ebbs and flows, sort of like my inspiration to post something here. My motivation to cook something using a real recipe works much the same way. So I knew it would only be a matter of time before I found myself in the clearance aisle at Michael's again, trying to determine if I could get away with that frame that's marked down to $4.99 but that's a wee bit too small for what I need.

You should also know that I set the default home pages of my Web browser at work to open up blogs or Web sites that are inspirational or that have pretty pictures on them. I change them up every so often, but they help to start my day off well. Even if I don't get to read anything on any of those blogs for the day, the images and positive words in the headlines make me feel good. This past winter, I added the Pioneer Woman's blog to my rotation.

I kind of equate reading Pioneer Woman with watching Oprah. If you want to have a successful blog, you should read the blogs of other successful writers. If you want to live a successful life, you watch Oprah.

So PW is known for her recipes. (She does have her own cooking show, you know...) So when I found myself with a pork loin in my freezer, I decided to search her blog for a recipe for it that might be just slightly more creative than my norm but still be within my comfort zone. I found one she calls Herb Roasted Pork Tenderloin with Preserves.

The recipe was easy - you season your pork loin with Herbs de Provence and roast it. While its in the oven, you make a sauce on the stove using some sort of fruit preserves. In her posted recipe, PW used fig, but mentioned you could use peach or plum or just about anything you like. That week I had done my grocery shopping at Target, and their choices for preserves were a little limited. I ended up finding blackberry preserves that sounded really tasty.

Now, you should know that I have one son that will eat just about anything. Nick likes spicy foods, and listed sushi as one of his favorite things on his second grade class assignment. When we go to Panera he regularly orders a bread bowl filled with french onion soup, and stopped ordering most meals off the kids' menu around age four. Will, on the other hand, is my picky eater. I have to bargain with him to get him to eat his veggies, and he declares just about any kind of potatoes to be "disgusting". He once wouldn't eat his pop tart because the frosting had turned a bit brown. It'll do that, you know, IF YOU TOAST IT.

Anyway...so this meal. I figured it would win out because A) its meat, and even the picky eater will eat meat, and B) the sauce is fruity - what kid doesn't like fruity? and C) why the heck wouldn't it?

Only...when you scoop blackberry preserves out of a small glass jar and add vinegar as the recipe indicates, it starts to thin out. And you see that its not really purple as it is...a really dark reddish...pink.

So when I cut my nicely seasoned, perfectly roasted pork loin that I was oh so proud of because it turned out just the way the recipe said it should (finally) into picturesque "on the diagonal" slices and drizzled the fruity sauce over the top and proudly served it to my family, the last thing I expected to hear from The Good Eater was,

"OH MY GOD MOM, IS THAT BLOOD?!?"

Both of their eyes were bugging out of their heads.

"EEEWW EEEWW EEEWW! I AM NOT EATING BLOODY MEAT!"

Unsure of what to do, I set the plates down in front of them anyway.

"DAD NEVER MAKES US EAT BLOODY MEAT, MOM."

Followed by a

"I'M GONNA PUKE IF YOU MAKE ME EAT BLOOD."

It was too late. Any argument I made that it was, in fact, NOT blood was met by fake gagging and choruses of "I'm gonna throw up!" I finally won (a little) by getting them each new plates and serving them pork that didn't have any sauce on it, but for the most part, kid-wise, the recipe was a bust. (I will note that it was absolutely delicious and if your kids are even slightly sane or if you have no heathens at all that I highly recommend it. Or, you know, you could just use a type of preserves that isn't RED.)

And then, after they went to bed that night? I went one step further into crazyland.

I crafted something.

BOOM. Totally on my level.

I should really write something.

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 19:23:00 +0000

My writing mojo has tanked.

I was clipping along there for awhile, writing -GASP!- two posts a week.

But then a big work presentation popped up.

Then prepping to audition for a show.

Then I hurt my back. Like really, really super bad hurt it. I couldn't walk without being near tears.

And then...I guess I'm out of excuses. I just haven't have it in me.

I question whether I still want to do this blogging thing, or if I should start a new blog, one that's less "mommy-centric". Or just rebrand this one. I guess I just don't care enough at this point to make a decision.

I have a things to write about. Just not today.

Today, instead, I give you this:

Source: weknowmemes.com via Colleen on Pinterest

The Amazing Wilbur T. Higgenbottom

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 21 Feb 2013 19:42:00 +0000

Today is my youngest son's sixth birthday.

It seems crazy to me that he's already that old, that he's already in kindergarten and reading.

reading to Grandpa

Yet of course he is, and of course he's still funny and smart and stubborn and fearless, a little old man in a child's body. Just a few weeks ago, off school for a teacher's in service, we spent time at the museum with my Mom. We laughed in the car on the way home about how he'd strolled through the museum with his hands in his pockets, slowly looking from side to side, not entirely interested in anything until he'd ask me to read a placard. Then, he'd get angry if I skipped any words - even those that were in Latin.

"All he needs is one of those little plastic coin purses...that you pinch on the sides to open?" we howled.

Will frowned from the back seat. "You guys...you SHUSH," he demanded, wagging his finger. This just made it funnier.

I've written here about Will a lot - he's such a personality - in a way that his older brother is not. Don't get me wrong -- Nick is charming and adorable and smart and friendly and sports all of the physical traits typical of eight-year-old boys (freckles, a dimple in one cheek, front teeth that appear slightly too large for his face, the gangly limbs and concave chest of a skinny child). Nick is very much a boy's boy. Its just that Will is...different.

We have many nicknames for Will. Will-I-Am. Willard. Willie. Willie Woo Woo. Wilbur. Wilbur Yum-Yum. And my personal favorite, Wilbur T. Higgenbottom, mostly because the first time I called him that he didn't get angry or laugh or say, "Mo-om...that's NOT my name!" He merely rolled his eyes at me, as if to show how utterly ridiculous his mother is, and walked away.

Monday of this week was my birthday, and when I asked him to draw a picture for me on our whiteboard, this is what I got:

Thanks for the reminder, kid.

(Nick on the other hand, later X'd out the 35 and wrote 2,000,000 underneath. I'll remember that later, ya poop.)

Last night, my birthday message got erased and Will wrote out his own:

He's very literal, that Will

I let him open one gift this morning - a Skylander Giant he'd been wanting - saving the rest for his party this weekend.

Another way he's an old soul -
he refuses to get out of bed until he absolutely has to

He'd asked for cinnamon rolls for his birthday breakfast, and I was happy to make them. As a surprise, I bought some strawberries, too, even though they're out of season because I know how much he likes them. Today he left them on his plate, proclaiming, "I don't really like those, Mom." Since when? 5 a.m.?

Will continues to be the type of boy who keeps me on my toes - just when I begin to feel like I've got this parenting thing figured out, he whomps me on the head with some crazy kid logic that only makes sense inside his little brain. This morning he claimed he couldn't brush his teeth because they felt too fat.

Happy birthday, little boy. You bring so much joy to my life.

Read Will's other birthday posts:
one year
two years
three years
four years
five years

Keeping them occupied is half the battle

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 15 Feb 2013 17:27:00 +0000

The most amazing chocolate cake EVER.

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Tue, 12 Feb 2013 15:00:00 +0000

Last week, my Mom came over one night for dinner and brought this:

My Mom has made this chocolate-on-chocolate cake for years. Its amazing and tastes like she spent hours in the kitchen using some sort of elite foodie hipster store ingredients. I shared the above pic on Instagram and got lots of requests for the recipe. You'll love this one -- four ingredients!

INGREDIENTS
1 lg. package of chocolate pudding (not instant - the "cook on the stove" kind)
milk (whatever the package of chocolate "cook on the stove" pudding calls for)
chocolate cake mix
chocolate chips

INSTRUCTIONS
1) Cook the pudding on the stove to package instructions. Once it starts to bubble, take the pan off the burner and let it set for five minutes or so.
2) Empty the package of chocolate cake mix into a bowl.
3) Pour the pudding into the cake mix. (Mom says she doesn't add all of the pudding. Over the years the size of the pudding package has gotten bigger. She leaves out maybe 1/2 c. or so.)
4) Mix with a hand mixer.
5) Pour into a greased and lightly floured 9x13" pan.
6) Sprinkle chocolate ships over the top of the cake.
7) Bake at 350 for approximately 30 minutes.

The only other thing I'll add is that this chocolate cake is decadent. You'll definitely want a glass of milk!

"The Batman Game": a playful review

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 08 Feb 2013 04:06:00 +0000

I can't even believe I never posted this. Shame shame!

I was contacted by a rep working with Wonder Forge games a few months ago, who asked if I'd like to try one of their new board games. My kids and I love board games...we have many and they all get equal time in the rotation, except for maybe Sorry!, which usually only lasts for about 10 minutes before Will gets frustrated and proclaims Nick and I to be big fat cheaters. This was a review right up my alley.

After a few shipping and receiving delays, the box arrived just before Christmas. While I said I was happy to play it and review it, I was honestly a little worried that it would get overshadowed by all of the other Christmas and birthday gifts that had just been received.

Come to find out I needn't have worried.

This game quickly became and still is the "go to" toy in our house. (In fact, as I write this the box is on the floor here in the living room because I promised Will that while there wasn't time to play tonight, Grandpa would play it with him when he comes over tomorrow. Heh...)

The game I had selected to review is called The Joker Fun House. (Or as Will calls it - "the Batman game". Its clear who his favorite is!) There are four DC Comics super hero game pieces (Batman, Superman, The Flash and the Green Lantern) and one Joker game piece. Each super hero has his own super power, so while its a game where the players take turns moving their pieces along the game board, at certain times during game play the character you're using will use his super power to stop the Joker. The goal is to get the super hero pieces to the finish line before the Joker gets to his getaway car.

Not only do my kids love super heroes, but the interactive game play kept their attention and made them want to play over and over again. (And over and over and over. Hence the note that its Grandpa's turn.) This game has been rated as being for ages 4+, but my eight-year-old loves it as much as my five-year-old does. (And my twenty-eight-year-old brother can't deny that he had a lot of fun playing it, too.)

This is a great game for any kid who loves super heroes. Other Wonder Forge games feature characters such as Curious George, Angelina Ballerina and Dr. Seuss. They retail for around $20 and are available at many major retailers like Target, Walmart and Barnes & Noble. I highly recommend them!

"Wait, what?!?"

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Wed, 06 Feb 2013 17:07:00 +0000

*Photo taken at *just* the moment it was sinking in as to where that particular item should be worn.

Daredevil

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 16:00:00 +0000

Most of the conversations I have with other parents typically fall into two categories -- one, which are easier to raise, boys or girls? And two, what's the freakin' deal with the second born being so strong-willed and stubborn?

The consensus on the first point is almost always that girls are easier to raise in the early years. They learn to talk earlier, walk earlier, they listen better and potty train sooner. Baby boys are typically a little developmentally behind their female counterparts in these areas, and instead prefer to climb everything, destroy or make a mess of whatever they can and generally make you feel you're insane when they look you in the eye yet seem to be unable to hear a word you're saying. In the pre-teen years, however, I hear this flip-flops, and mothers of little girls begin think their darlings are possessed by hormonal demons, whereas boys then become the much easier of the two to deal with simply because they're rational.

The second topic was more surprising to me. It seems, that regardless as to whether the second born is a girl or a boy, often that child has a mind of his or her own, and is stubborn enough to rival any mule. These socks? They can't be worn -- they have weird seams. This food? It was his favorite yesterday, but -- now its gonna make him puke. Twenty degrees outside? I. AM. NOT. WEARING. A. HAT!!!

The trick, I've found, at least with my second son, is to make him think that something is his idea. But if something is his idea? WATCH OUT. You very likely will never be able to convince him of anything else.

Add to it Will's, um, bravery, and you've got a kid that regularly makes me pray. Hard.

Case in point -- this past New Year's Eve we went sledding during the day with some friends. For the first time, Will jumped on his sled, alone, not waiting for anyone to give him a push or to ride down with him. Just like the older kids, once he was at the bottom, he simply picked up his sled and trudged back up the hill.

I thought, this is awesome! I could sled, too (its like swinging on a swing -- you're never too old for sledding!) and merely had to count heads every once in awhile.

About 20 minutes in and I saw Will, at the bottom of the hill, not watching where he was walking, get nailed by another kid on a sled.

I mean like -- feet up over his head, land on his face type of hit.

I jumped on my sled and flew down, thanking the teenage girl who stopped to make sure he was OK. There were lots of tears, but no real wound, so I held his hand and walked him up the hill for a little break.

Now, I'm totally a "get back on the horse" kinda person. I held him on my lap for awhile, drying his tears, making him laugh by telling him he was crying baby ice cubes. ("Do you hear that Will? PLINK! PLINK! PLINK!")

But then I said, "Baby, I know you don't want to give up! You should try sledding some more. Now you know you have to look where you're going when you walk up the hill, right? You have to be able to get out of the way if someone's coming toward you on a sled!" and we all cajoled him and made him feel better and decided we'd all go down the hill at the same time as an act of solidarity.

That very next ride down...

The five of us, each on our own sled...

We counted to three and down we went. I remember passing Will at one point toward the bottom of the hill. For some reason he came to a stop sooner than the rest of us, and seconds later I had to slow myself down so as not to plow into Nick. I had Nick laughing because I came r i g h t up to his sled and just barely bumped him. He and I stood up and turned around.

Will was standing there, CRYING.

WITH A MOUTHFUL OF BLOOD.

OH MY GOD what the hell happened? Mere seconds had passed since I passed him on the hill.

He had a gash under his chin and he was drooling blood as he cried. I so desperately wanted to carry him up that hill but he's just too heavy. I led him to the top, then inside the building there and to the bathroom.

"Mom!" he wailed. "I'm super afraid my teeth are gonna fall out into my mouth and I'm not gonna know it and then I'm gonna SWALLOW THEM!"

I felt HORRIBLE as I sat him on the counter and cleaned up his face. He'd already been hurt and I pushed him to go down the hill another time and this time he was hurt WORSE.

I never did get a very good explanation of what happened. The first time he was hit there was a boy, about 10, who came over and apologized profusely and genuinely felt horrible that he had run him over. This time, the story didn't even make sense and I figured that it probably had happened so fast he didn't really see who hit him.

We spent about 30 minutes inside the building, by the fireplace, and I fed him chips with nacho cheese on them sort of like he was a baby bird. He couldn't bite the chips with his sore (and bloody) teeth, so I'd break off a small piece, dip it in cheese and he'd pop it in his mouth and chew with his back teeth.

After awhile the other kids came in to warm up and have a snack, and when they were done they all wanted to sled some more. I looked at Will and said, "Bud, why don't we go sit outside and watch them?" We bundled ourselves up in our winter clothes again and headed out to sit at the top of the hill.

Only Will didn't sit down.

He wandered over to where I'd stashed our sleds in a bush (so that they wouldn't slide down the hill unmanned).

"Will? Baby? What're you doing?"

No answer. He simply picked up his sled.

Thinking it was to prevent his tushy from getting cold, I said, "There you go, bud. Come sit by me on your sled."

No answer. He walked to the top of the hill.

"William? Buddy?"

He turned. "What? I wanna go sledding some more."

I'm sure my eyes went wide. "WHAT? No, bud, I don't think that's a good idea. I think you're all sledded out for today."

He looked up at my friend and simply said, "I wanna go down again," then hopped on his sled and took off.

I think my heart stopped beating.

After three (uneventful) trips down the hill, Momma had had enough and we all decided that sledding was over for the day.

What the heck am I gonna do when this kid is 16?

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sidenote:
This is what Will's teeth look like today. Notice that lovely gray color on the two. The dentist says that indicates that the nerves in those teeth have died, and because of his age (he'll be six next month) he'll be losing them soon anyway and so they leave them as-is to serve as "place holders" for the new teeth that will be growing in. We're going in next week for X-rays just to make sure there's no damage to the permanent teeth that are still below the gumline. When Will heard he was getting X-rays he cheered. "I LOVE X-RAYS!" I don't believe he's ever had one in his life.

"Will, don't you feel good after that nice warm shower?"

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 25 Jan 2013 01:47:00 +0000

"Nah I mostly feel WET!"

"Mom, I'm just gonna stand here...

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 18 Jan 2013 02:22:00 +0000

...and wait until you're done using your phone so I can play games on it."

2012 in Pictures

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Wed, 02 Jan 2013 21:16:00 +0000

This took me days to compile, but I'm glad I did it -- it made me realize just how blessed I am. I hope it makes you smile, too.

JANUARY 2012

the toothless wonder

attached

frozen milwaukee

FEBRUARY 2012

coffee

my little super hero

a football jersey and a batman cape

winter sunset

MARCH 2012

foggy

family walk

love letter

a beautiful day

APRIL 2012

let love abide

working together

lilacs

MAY 2012

zool

nature walk

brothers hug!

trees

JUNE 2012

last day of school treat

no training wheels!

brothers at the beach

JULY 2012

road trip pit stop!

cheesin' it up on the rocks

rock climbing

camping with grandpa

AUGUST 2012

tacos on the patio

color run

new nephew

batter up!

SEPTEMBER 2012

brewer game

Will & bald baby

new cousin!

first day of school

cub scouts

wine festival w/Mom

OCTOBER 2012

Lake Redstone

fall foliage

happy halloween!

NOVEMBER 2012

election night

GQ

proud cousin

birthday boy & his bro

earning a badge

DECEMBER 2012

love tackle!

little bell ringer

happy baby

christmas hugs

These are the days...

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Tue, 11 Dec 2012 01:47:00 +0000

I've been thinking lately that I should write a weekly article here where I talk about the latest app that's been keeping my attention. Usually its a game or something photo-related, but I absolutely love to get the latest geeky gossip as to what other people love to use, too. Maybe this will finally be the first in that series, but even if its the only one I ever get around to writing up, I've got to tell you about this cool photo app I've found!

(OK, "found" makes it seems like *I* somehow did the work to discover it when really it was an email from someone working with the company saying, "Hey, you wanna try this?" Po-tay-to po-tah-to.)

Anyway, its called Mosaic and what it is is an app that builds photo books for you from the photos on your phone. Its brilliance is its simplicity...I created my photo book in about five minutes. There are no editing tools in the app, and the photos are entered into the 6" square book one to a page, in the order in which you select them. You choose white pages or black, and you can shuffle the photos that appear through the die cut openings in the cover, but that's pretty much it. Obviously there are hundreds of other apps out there that provide editing tools or pretty filters, but if you're anything like me, the biggest challenge you face is getting any pictures printed at all.

My book arrived in a pretty little box and my kids paged through it over and over and over!

The last photos I had printed were from my trip to San Francisco last October.

Honestly, I kinda rushed through putting my book together because I had told this nice PR lady I'd try it out and didn't want to leave her hanging. I chose 20 photos, ordered my book, and a few days later it was delivered to my office.

And it had me teary at my desk.

There, in the pages of this little book, was a picture of my boys smiling with their week old cousin. My five-year-old on his first day of Kindergarten, smiling proudly at the red table with his name tag around his neck, blue crayon poised and ready to color in a giraffe. My kids at a Brewer game and posing with me at my work picnic. All images that would have been stuck for years in the digital confines of a DVD, on a shelf in the binder where I store them.

What a shame more don't ever get printed.

I know I have a tendency to cringe at the thought of putting together a photo book. As much as I love the idea and have hundreds of photos I should be putting in them, I know myself well enough to know that I'll spend HOURS upon HOURS getting the layout *just* right, then I won't like it and I'll tweak it some more. Then, just when I'm ready to put in my order, the promo code will expire, making my mammoth book cost $168 and I'll remember those other couple of photos I totally forgot to include but totally should.

These little books from Mosaic are $20 each. I could see easily creating an album on my phone for those pics that are "book worthy" and ordering one a quarter or so. At that price, they're perfect gifts for Grandma, too.

I've tried for the past hour to find an online link to the app store for the photo app simply called 'Mosaic' to no avail. (Of course, I find it with no problem on my phone, go figure!) The app is free and the icon looks like the cover of the box in the top left corner of my photo. Check it out - I'm sure you've got plenty of "book worthy" photos on your phone, too!

I received a free photo book for consideration in writing this post, but all opinions (and real goofy chick tears) are my own. I'd *love* to hear which photo apps you love! I created the image in this post with another free photo app called Diptic.

Ain't that about a...

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 06 Dec 2012 18:39:00 +0000

It has seemed, my entire life, like nothing ever works quite normally for me. If there is something that typically takes three steps for most people to complete? Those are the things that for me will take four steps or possibly seven. If there is a fluke way of something out of the ordinary happening to influence a normal occurrence in a not-so-good way, the universe will find a way to deliver to me just that. See previous posts about requiring breech babies to be flipped and getting rear-ended TWICE within SEVEN DAYS.

Between the dates of those two rear ending accidents I had a dentist's appointment. I will pause here to tell you that I have crap teeth. You know those dreams you sometimes have where your teeth crumble and fall out? THAT SHIT HAS LITERALLY HAPPENED TO ME WHILE EATING SOFT SHELL TACOS. The front ones look nice, but those are really just like that four-year-old child who tilts her head and smiles sweetly in front of the teller at the bank when just five minutes earlier, back in the car she had an unholy melt-down and belted the baby across the face in a fit of preschool rage.

One of my lower rear molars is completely missing. It had to be pulled when I was 16 after not having had dental insurance for a number of years. Of the other three molars, one has had a root canal and a crown, another has a nice shiny new crown and the last one is the bastard in question, also a candidate for a beautiful white porcelain crown. Except...

Except first insurance denied my pre-approval claim saying that it was for a non-functioning tooth. (Wait...what?!?) The good doc resubmitted it and we waited a few more weeks for them to pre-approve the claim. (I know better than to have thousands of dollars of work done before knowing that its going to be covered. See above paragraph as to why.) So finally they approve the claim and I make my appointments. One for an hour to get fitted for the crown, then the second for a week after, during which they'll put it on.

My first appointment was scheduled over my lunch hour from work. I settled into the chair and the doc shot me up with Novocaine. I've been going to this (super awesome) dentist for more than 10 years, so he already knows that if normal people need one shot, I'll actually require two.

While he let the Novocaine do its thing, he and I and his lovely assistant had a chat about denterly things...the weather, movies, the election, what have you. After a few minutes he asked if I felt numb, and I did, so he proceeded.

Then, suddenly, while he was drilling away at my tooth...OH MY FARKLING FARKLE DEAR LORD. I could feel EVERYTHING.

The good doc apologized and keyed up more Novocaine. Two more shots. I sat there in the chair, enjoying the 70s soft rock on the oldies station, wondering where the members of Asia might be now. The doc left the room, leaving me to chat with his lovely assistant, who happens to be from somewhere in Eastern Europe. As she and I talked, I begin to notice something...odd...

The lower right side of my face was going completely numb.

I've had it happen before where I'd felt the numbness in my ear, which is really an odd feeling that you only notice if for some reason you stick your finger in your ear. But this? My ear was numb as was my cheek, all the way up to my lower eyelid.

So there I was, in the chair, talking to this nice lady, trying to be polite and make out what she's saying about her daughter through her accent. And I realized that because my lower eyelid was numb? When I would blink, my eye wasn't closing all the way. Which is really sort of a problem because I wear contact lenses, and if your eye doesn't close all the way when you blink? Your contacts will dry out.

So repeat that last bit. He starts to drill a second time, and lo and behold I could still feel him drilling. He gave me two more shots. I had, by this point, been given SIX shots of Novocaine. Again, while we wait for these last two to kick in, we sat and talked about the annoyance of robo-calls and movies that we wanted to see and books we have read, and my lip had begun to feel as thick as the Atlanta phone book. I was talking like Bill Cosby in that famous comedic bit. A few times during the conversation, I had to take that little paper bib and wipe drool from my lip. You know...drool I would never have noticed (because I couldn't feel it) but that the nice assistant pointed out to me.

At the same time, my lower eyelid was becoming even more numb than before, and my contact lens was so dry it felt like it was going to be expelled from my eye every time I tried to blink. Which, of course, I was doing constantly. Sometimes, while talking with my lips that felt 5" thick, I would just reach up and hold my eyelid down so as to help it out.

My eye began to water profusely to compensate for the dryness.

And then I realized...

While I sat there in that chair, talking about the latest Dan Brown book, I was hardly making ANY sense because I could no longer speak properly, I was drooling and holding my eyelid shut. And while I was simultaneously doing all of that, my right eye was watering so badly that it looked like I was crying. On just that one side.

Dentists should have cameras like they have at the top of roller coasters at Six Flags, because damn, I'm sure that was HOT.

In the end, even six shots of Novocaine wouldn't numb that stubborn tooth, and because he feared that might mean I have nerve damage, the good doc ended up only filling that tooth instead of prepping it for a crown. You know, after drilling where I could feel for what felt like 10 minutes straight.

Fast foward several weeks to last night, when I was flossing my teeth like a good little girl. Wouldn't you know it but that damn filling is loose...

Perpetuating a stereotype (a.k.a. "Damn woman drivers!")

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 17:32:00 +0000

There are a number of things that have happened to me lately, any of which on its own would make any person shake their head and go, "WOW. REALLY?", that I want to tell you about here, but not so that you sit back and think, "Oh my God that's horrible!" but rather so that you laugh and say to yourself, "Oh my God what are the ODDS?!? Ha ha!" If you're my friend on Facebook you know about them already, but for those of you who are not (or who have other things to do with your lives other than read up on what I'm doing online), here goes.

I was recently in a car accident.

Actually, make that two.

In the span of seven days.

Really.

The first happened at 3 p.m. on a Friday. I'd already made special arrangements that week to leave the office early every day so as to pick up my kids when school let out. My ex was on vacation and the only other alternative to this (amazingly appreciated) arrangement was to put them in before and after school day care, making their total time at school 6:45 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. I can only imagine the monsters I'd have dealt with if I had to go with that option. Instead, after picking them up at 3 p.m., I would then drive home and work for another two hours or so while they had snacks and did homework and watched cartoons.

This particular Friday was the very last one working with this arrangement. It was also day 10 of 12 in a row with my children. Anyone who's known me for 10 minutes knows my kids are amazingly smart and funny and well behaved, but kids are kids. When there are more of them than there are of you, they will find a way to work that to their advantage. After a very short amount of time, they will find your weakness. After a day or two, they will sense you are wearing thin. After four or five days, they will work the two together like some sort of tiny evil geniuses. By day nine you are ready to feed them chocolate cake for dinner and call in re-enforcements. (Sadly, Grandma was not available that week.) I give mad props to parents who go it alone every single day. There is a special place in heaven for you folks, right next door to Kindergarten teachers and health care workers who donate their services to the poor.

So anyway. Day 10 of 12. I've already spent more than a week running back and forth (45 minutes or more each way) to the office, making sure homework gets done, running kids to their activities and generally trying to keep my sanity by keeping them entertained.

On top of all that, the area around my kids' school is ridiculously planned out. There is exactly ONE WAY into the school and ONE WAY OUT. Here, let me drawn an amazingly realistic recreation for your visual enjoyment and understanding:

Yes, you can hire me for portrait work.

So this particular day I was five whole minutes early. Can I get a woot woot? I decided I'd take advantage of my timeliness by pulling into the driveway you can't use for after school pick-ups and make a Y-turn so that I could park facing away from the school. (Oh, and I should mention, the only way out of that county building parking lot is to pull out onto the street the school is on. And that the streets on either side of the school are so narrow that when cars are parked on either side of the street, like they are at the end of the school day, only one car can travel down them at a time. If there's someone coming from the opposite way you have to take turns.) I knew this turn around would save me 10 or 15 minutes at least when all the school buses and other cars all tried to exit the school area at the same time.

When I turned into the school driveway there were no cars coming from the opposite direction.

When I backed up just moments later, guess what? BAM. There was.

At the end of that dead end on the right is a gated parking lot for the employees of the county building. It is half a block away from the school driveway. Yes, he technically had the right of way, but in an overly crowded school zone, one should not be driving so fast in half a block's distance so as to not see, then hit, a car making a Y turn so hard that one puts a hole in the other's bumper. Ahem. Letters will be written to that very county building about the un-safeness of this whole scenario.

Anyway... No one was hurt. I have insurance (he did not). In the long run, its a damn car, and cars can be fixed. The evening was salvaged with a movie at home with my kids and a hugging/wrestling match. All was good.

Fast forward seven days. I was on the freeway downtown at the beginning of my long trek homeward. I'd already called my ex to let him know I would be late picking up the kids. You see, my car had been at an auto mechanic's for some (completely unrelated) repairs. Instead of my service taking two hours as originally quoted, it was in their greasy mitts for SIX. And before I left I had to make an appointment to bring it back...again to try and figure out something else that was completely unrelated to either the first accident or the reason it was taken in for repairs in the first place. (I'm totally losing confidence in their professional services, but that's for another day.)

Thank god for places like Starbucks and Panera and their free Wi-Fi, or I wouldn't have gotten much work done that day!

So anyway...I was frustrated. Running late. Got on the freeway without stopping to get gas or find a bathroom because I just had to get on my way already. I had figured there would be plenty of time for those things on the way home after getting out of the danged city.

Traffic was a little heavier than normal, and just a few minutes into my commute, we were stopped completely. That's not entirely unheard of in Milwaukee, though our traffic here is not nearly as bad as other, larger cities. If you hit traffic like that in Milwaukee you pretty much know you're in it for just a few minutes and then it'll start moving again.

That's when I heard the first crash.

I quickly looked up in my review mirror. Through the windshield and back windows of the SUV behind me (that was also at a complete stop), I saw the van lurch forward, heard it hit the SUV, then BAM! the SUV hit me.

You. Have. GOT. To. Be. KIDDING ME.

I was the fourth car in the chain and I was hit hard enough that my work bag flew off the seat and its entire contents were dumped out onto the floor. My car sustained relatively minor damage, though you can literally see the outline and the letters of the license plate from that SUV in my back bumper. (Hey - Honda PR people - need a spokesperson for how well your cars perform in collisions? I only half joke...) Once again, I was unhurt, my car was still drivable, and cars can be fixed.

I picked up my kids and the movie I'd promised them, and salvaged the evening by going to bed early, figuring the best thing that could happen that day is that it would end.

But seriously...I think I'm giving up driving on Fridays!

Will for President

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 09 Nov 2012 16:00:00 +0000

Before bed last night, my kids and I lay together on my bed cuddling.

Because their "cuddling" involves as much wrestling and somersaults as hugging, I began asking them questions in an attempt to hold their attention and keep their little bodies still, and not get all riled up before bedtime.

"Will baby, what do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked.

He stopped his squirming, propped his body up one elbow and looked directly at me.

"I'm gonna be a baseball player!" he exclaimed, gesturing with his hands. "And when its not baseball season I'm going to be the President."

Oh really...

"You sure you want to be President? That's a big job!" I said to him.

Without hesitation, he simply said, "YEP!"

Goofy kid, I thought.

But then this morning after breakfast I decided to interview him a bit as to where he stands on the issues. You know, in preparation for his campaign in 2044.

"So...when you're president, what kinds of decisions are you going to make?"

"Guys who decide to do bad things can't. They go to jail. And if there's a bad guy who puts a good guy in jail? I'm gonna call the police and they'll save him."

Will, giving his first Presidential interview on the living room couch. In an Lego Indiana Jones t-shirt.
That he couldn't stop lifting up while we talked.

"Oh. So you're pretty tough on crime. That's good. What else? What about the environment?"

"Envi...?"

"The environment is the earth - the ground, the air, the trees, the water...everything outside. What do you think about it?"

"You can't litter. You have to pick up your garbage. You can't just chuck it on the ground behind you."

"Oh. Very good. What about recycling?"

"Yep. You gotta do that too."

"Oh. OK. What's your stance on education?"

[Blank stare...]

"Education is school. Learning stuff. What do you think about education?"

"Oh. You haveta go. And you can't be late!"

"Well definitely! What about after high school? When you're all done with the school you have to do?"

"Then you should go to college."

"Everyone has to go to college?"

"No. Some people don't want to do college. But they can still learn stuff."

"Oh. So like skilled trades? How to be a plumber? Or an electrician? Or a carpenter?"

"Yeah. They can do that instead."

"Well that's great! We need people to do those things. What if someone can't pay for school? If they don't have enough money?"

He thought for a minute. "Hmm. Well, maybe they can borrow some. But only if they give it back!"

"That's called a loan, bud. Mommy got a student loan to go to college."

"Yeah. They can get a loan."

"Good! So you'll make education a priority."

"Um...ok."

I laughed. "What's your stance on health care?"

"Oh!" His eyes perked up, and he jumped up from the couch, ran to the kitchen, and came back with a sheet of paper. I immediately recognized Nick's "healthy chart" for Cub Scouts. For two weeks Will's older brother needs to track how many times he washes his hands, how many glasses of water he drinks, how many hours he plays outside, all to become more aware of setting and keeping healthy habits.

Referring to his research on health care. His brother's "healthy habits" chart for Cub Scouts.

"You should drink lots of water. And wash your hands," he said, pointing to bars his brother had colored in on his chart. "And sleep, too. You gotta sleep." Clearly, this kid appreciates research.

I looked up at the clock. "Well, bud, its time to get to school. Can I interview you again before the election?"

He grinned. "Aw, Mom..."

Fire and bubbles and smoke rings, OH MY!

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Mon, 29 Oct 2012 17:46:00 +0000

Normally, when I write a review of something, I try to keep it from being too "review-ish". That is to say, I'll write a summary of a product or service I've been offered through my blog by telling my own story that includes information about that product, service, or concert. I try to provide an authentic, organic, real-life review of my experiences, and not just a "gee this was great!" review.

But sometimes, things just are what they are.

Sometimes someone emails you and offers you tickets to a show in exchange for writing a few posts on your blog. And sometimes that show is just really awesome and there's nothing to say other than that.

Sometimes the stage of that show fills half an auditorium and the set of that show is not props and scenery pieces that get moved around but rather lighting...like in the way movie theatres shine their projectors onto a movie screen...the scenery of the Dreamworks How To Train Your Dragon Live Spectacular was shone onto the backdrop and floor and changed repeatedly throughout the performance...sometimes even as a character was turning around.

Sound cheesy? It was anything BUT. The other spectacular thing this stage show included was that the actors and actresses all spent lots of time in harnesses, suspended high above the stage. Combine those together and you get an entire sequence where the main character was interacting with the scenery and walking on the wall.

You might not be able to see it well, (probably the reason they ask you not to take pictures - they do the show no justice!) but the actor is in the middle near the tree. He was being suspended from above by a harness, "walking" along the path until he came to that tree. Then the chunk of land where the tree is collapsed and it appeared as though he grabbed onto the land on the other side to save himself. SO COOL.

There were scenes that appeared to be underwater (with real bubbles!) and other scenes that were mid-air. And there was fire. REAL fire.

Oh - and the dragons! I got halfway through this post and am just NOW talking about the dragons? Yikes. They were the main draw! There were enormous dragons that flew through the air (sometimes with human cast members on their backs!) and dragons that walked and hopped across the floor seemingly independently. Some breathed fire and some blew smoke rings. My boys were constantly turning to me, whispering excitedly, "MOM! DID YOU SEE THAT?!?"

I had a friend who just happened to have tickets to the Saturday afternoon show text me in advance and ask, "What was your favorite part?"

My answer? "The whole thing!"

Seriously - this show is still coming to several cities, so if it will be anywhere near you I highly recommend it. You can still get 25% off any weeknight performance in any city (Friday nights included). Just enter the code MOM in the promo/special offer box.

We all totally dug it.

show time

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 03:56:00 +0000

When I was a kid, we were poor. Entertainment options typically had two required criteria: A) Is it free? and B) Can four kids who's ages span 10 years all enjoy it?

There wasn't much that fit those criteria other than "Playing in the backyard."

Going to the movies or to a stage show was something very special -- typically reserved for birthday gifts from Grandma. (I remember crying once, hysterically, when we weren't in our seats for the opening strains of the theme song when going to see Sesame Street Live. Traumatic, yo.)

Which is why, when I take my kids to see a show, there is always a moment when I look over at their little faces, staring wide-eyed at the stage in the dark, and feel unbelievably lucky to have them and the opportunity to work something like that into our (somewhat) regular routine. It never fails to give me that sappy "I'm a good Mom" feeling.

Which is why I'm excited to get to surprise them with tickets to see Dreamworks How To Train Your Dragon Live Spectacular at the Bradley Center in Milwaukee next week.

No, I mean literally excited -- check out that dragon! There will be 23 of them, some with wingspans of up to 46 feet, Viking warriors and world-class acrobats, all performing against a state-of-the-art, wall-to-floor immersive projection measuring more than 20,000 square feet. Little boy (and geek Mama) heaven.

The show is playing at the BMO Harris Bradley Center in Milwaukee from October 25-28th, and I'm happy to be able to offer my readers 25% off any weeknight performance in any city (Friday nights included). Just enter the code MOM in the promo/special offer box. Perfect timing for those days off school next week!

I'll be sure to post some photos of our night out on the town after the show!

I was asked to write about the Dreamworks How To Train Your Dragon Live Spectacular in exchange for receiving tickets, but have you clicked over to see the video yet? SO COOL.

"What's your dream?"

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 21:40:00 +0000

~ Pretty Woman

I wrote this post as a journal entry on June 6, 2011. I'm sharing it now because it occurred to me today how close I am to living this dream -- even more so than I felt I was the day I wrote it. And because I have no idea why I never published it here in the first place. :)

What's my dream?

Miss Britt wrote a post a few days ago about the power of writing down your dreams and goals.

And if this ain't the right place in my life to be writing down dreams I don't know what would be.

Almost every aspect of my life has changed recently, and while I'd be lying if I said it wasn't overwhelming or that I hadn't had at least one freak out bout of tears that seemed to come out of nowhere, I know everything is changing for the better.

I'm happier, even now, in the midst of all this upheaval than I've been in a very very long time. I feel like I'm finding the true ME...finding what's important to ME and finding out how to obtain what I want.

I almost feel like if I don't write down my dreams right now my life will just get filled back up with "stuff" - you know...like when you carry around a bigger purse even though you feel like you don't need all that extra room until you suddenly realize you're carrying around a 10 lb suitcase filled with CRAP simply because you had the room for it.

I don't want CRAP. I want more that is real...more that is meaningful. And if what is real and meaningful to me doesn't fill up every aspect of my life to the rafters, well, that's OK, too.

I want a relationship with someone who really values me for ME. Every aspect of me. Some parts of me are too serious and need to be toned down -- other parts too silly and well, tough break. The silliness stays. I want someone to laugh with and spend time with -- someone I enjoy being around who enjoys being with me where everything is just easy. What I don't want is anxiety and stress and any feelings of "I have to do this or he has to do that." I want someone who likes the same types of activities that I like and has values similar to mine (family/friends/relationships are important -- do what you say you'll do -- say what you mean -- help each other -- and be honest, always). I want someone who's funny and smart and cute and is good with kids. I want someone who loves me and can't live without me.

I want kids who respect their parents and are polite. I want kids that can run around and have crazy kid fun and can play make-believe like no one's business. I want kids that are smart and goofy and eat their dinners without constantly making farting noises. (OK, that last one will probably never happen...but I'm good with conceding on that.) I want kids that climb trees and get dirty and pick me fistfulls of dandelions. Kids that say, "You're the best, Mom," and "I love you, Mom," and "Thank you, Mom."

Nick & Will, July 2012

I want friends who'll be there for me when I need to bitch about the little things. Friends who'll call to see how I'm doing when they haven't heard from me in a few days. Friends who'll help me move or who'll go see a movie with me on a rainy afternoon. Friends who will honestly tell me that my butt DOES look big in those pants or that, dude, I DO have parsley in my teeth. Friends who will lend me a book or a sweater or $20.

I want couple friends who have kids of their own who'll invite me and mine over for a cook-out, where the drinks and the cards and the laughter lasts well into the night, after the kids have fallen asleep on the couch or on the floor. I want couple friends to vacation with for doing more of the same of this in slightly different places. I want thrown together I'll-bring-a-dessert-you-bring-hot dogs trips to the lake on hot summer days. I want thrown together let's go to the park invites and just bring the kids by offers.

I want to fill my new apartment up with a jumble of pretty little things that are meaningful to me. Collections of items that define and explain my life and who I am. Stuff that has a story behind it -- even if that story is "I saw it and thought it'd look good hanging there." I want to know neighbors who'll drop by to say "hi" while I'm puttering around in my kitchen or helping a kid with homework. Near-by friendlies who offer used kid clothes or anecdotal stories about what worked with their sons.

My most recent wall-hanging addition, one of my Instagram pics printed on canvas

I want to build around myself a community of people, each of whom has a purpose in my life, whether it be large or small. A group of people who know without hesitation that I'd give any of these things back in a heartbeat.

And I have to say that if I hadn't written all this down I would have never realized how close I am to living my dream. :)

And then I ran over my baby.

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Fri, 14 Sep 2012 18:50:00 +0000

I have mentioned here before that I *may* be just the teensiest bit ungraceful. And if you believe I truly mean "teensiest" then you may have never read my blog before.

Most of the time my lack of ability to control my long-limbed body results only in a minor bruise, the source of which I cannot remember by the time it appears. Sometimes, though, my lack of coordination affects those I love.

Source: ohmyfreakingstars.blogspot.com via Colleen on Pinterest

Two weeks ago, on Sunday, I took my boys to a park after dinner to play a little baseball. The weather was beautiful and it was Labor Day weekend -- we were well aware that our days of beautiful weather were numbered.

I took my place on pitcher's mound and began lobbing pitches over the plate. Typically when we play its just the three of us, my boys and I, so we don't follow the rules of baseball all too closely. At seven, and with more athletic talent than his brother, Nick actually understands the rules and how the game is played. At five, Will plays because his older brother does, and doesn't much care that I tell him you can't just run around the bases every time you bat.

He pretty much laughs and continues to steal bases as soon as my back is turned.

This particular Sunday my Mom was with us, along with a friend and his son. Giggling as he rounded third base and was headed toward home, I thought it would be the perfect opportunity to try and press the issue with Will by using a little humor.

"Hmmm," I thought, "Maybe he'll learn that he can't keep stealing bases if I pick him up, tickle him and carry him back to third base."

I don't know why this seemed like a good idea.

There went Will, giggling and shrieking as he looked my way, hoping I was distracted and didn't see him trying to steal home. Quickly I turned and ran toward him while hunched over, more at his level. He picked up the pace and laughed louder.

"You can't steal home you little stinker!" I shouted, laughing as I scooped him up in my arms.

It was at that point that I dropped the three baseballs I was holding and Will began wiggling and swinging his feet in an attempt to get free.

Already in an odd posture (I hadn't stood up fully after scooping him up), and with momentum behind me and the awareness that I didn't want to misstep on one of the baseballs now under my feet, all it took was one of his shoes connecting with my shin to tip me off balance.

We were going down.

Together.

Oh my God I might land on top of my kid.

Oh my God I might crush my child.

So as to keep from doing so, I had the crazy idea to push him away.

I basically threw my kid on the ground, then fell next to him, scraping the palms of my hands and my right knee.

Will, despite my efforts, got the worst of it -- scuffed knees, a scraped forehead and a bloody elbow.

My heart broke a little when he, in tears, shouted, "Mom! Why did you do that?!?" I have never before felt more like an asshole.

Luckily, Will is one of those kids you can dust off, clean his wounds with a baby wipe, put on a band-aid or two and he's ready to go back out and play.

Laughing, he later asked his brother, "Did you see that? When Mom ran me over?"

Sorry kid. Momma will help pay for therapy when you need it later!

...distracted...

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 06 Sep 2012 02:01:00 +0000

I had all these things I wanted to write about tonight so I sat down on the couch, in my yoga pants and Old Navy t-shirt, with a stupid movie on in the background (more for company than for any real entertainment value), and began to wonder if the pictures I wanted to include with these posts I've been writing in my head are online yet or not and realized that I may have to upload them from my iPhone first but what's with my internet connection at home - its really slow tonight then realized that's probably because I'm writing this on my laptop while uploading photos to flickr from my phone and watching Thor on Netflix all at the same time and OH MY GOD CAT WHY MUST YOU SIT ON TOP OF MY KEYBOARD WHILE I TYPE?!?

Would you believe I was looking for the ecard about ADD that ends in "HEY MACARENA!" for the past 20 minutes and finally gave up and decided to use this one instead? You should.

A few weeks ago I did the Color Run...

me before... (that's Miller Park stadium in the background)

and after...

Which really is the happiest 5K on the planet, even if you don't run it, probably especially if you don't and you instead walk along the route (which is approximately 3.1 miles for all you non-metrics out there) and laugh with your friends about all the completely crazy outfits you see on people along the way like the one on this guy, who we figured is either a die hard Where's Waldo groupie or who lost a bet. Maybe both.

Either way, that's far too much white man leg for my comfort.

At one point, despite my sunglasses, I got a shot of yellow powder to my right eye and was certain that I'd have to try and find a way to recreate those eyewash stations they have in high school Chemistry classrooms along the route somehow, possibly by fashioning something out of duct tape and a bottle of Aquafina or a can of Miller Lite, the latter of which I had better access to than the former. Instead I just blinked a lot until I teared it all out (that's a word, right? "teared"?) and then I hit the blue color station where I couldn't see five feet in front of my face with either eye and almost tripped over a grown woman who had stopped to roll in the extra color in the street. And she wasn't even anyone I know, though I did see my cousin Kari a few times and ran into Kat as well.

Needless to say I was cleaning orange out of my ears for awhile and had a green heel for about three days.

The morning of the Color Run, my nephew was born, and I took the kids to see him in the hospital the following day. You'd think I'd post a picture of him here, right? I mean, he's brand-squishy-new and unbelievably adorable, but I'm not really sure how my brother and his girlfriend would feel about me posting pictures of their infant son all over the internet while he's still so new. At one point during our visit, my five-year-old grabbed my phone and took a bunch of blurry pictures and one extreme close-up of the bottom of his brother's shoe, and then this one...which makes me look kind of angelic and peaceful and rather pretty with that natural light streaming in from the side like that and it may very well be one of my favorite pictures of myself of all time.

Trust me...he's a-freaking-dorable.

I got my baby fix and then happily handed him back to his parents, who were still, at that point, in that "I can't believe we have a REAL BABY oh my gosh isn't he beautiful," stage and not yet in the "OH MY GOD WE HAVE A REAL BABY WHO ONLY SLEEPS FOR TWO HOURS AT A CRACK AND CRIES LIKE A POSSESSED TERRORIST FROM 1 - 4 A.M. AND OH DEAR GOD WON'T YOU PLEASE JUST GO THE F*** TO SLEEP?!?" stage.

I tried to warn them.

And then lets see...what else have I been up to that should be summed up in a nice, neat, well-written post and not all jumbled together in this strange mash-up of Waldo adorers and more pictures of myself than I've probably ever included in one post ever? Um, the first day of school was yesterday!

Someone asked me if I cried after dropping my youngest off for his first day of Kindergarten, and when I realized I hadn't, I started to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with me. Instead I decided that I was most likely just more sane than the crying mothers and made myself feel better by remembering how I got all teary at something completely insignificant he did the other day that was really super cute and aw-inducing but for the life of me now I can't remember what he did but I know it was sweet and made me feel like I had succeeded as a mother.

Until I posted this to Facebook with a caption that read "First day of kindergarten and first grade!" only to shortly thereafter realize Nick was in first grade last year. #momfail

And holy geez-o-Pete I'm just tired after posting all of that. OH MY GOSH I HAVE WINE! How could I have forgotten? Here, look at some more pretty pictures...

we're still playing lots of baseball

Bald Baby is still kickin' - we had to clean his head with a
Mr. Clean Magic Eraser the other day, but he's still Will's favorite!

OH! now I remember what was so cute it made me teary -
Will rushing to his new cousin's side, offering Bald Baby for comfort at his slightest cry :)

#DDIY

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 16 Aug 2012 17:08:00 +0000

For some un-Godly-known reason, we've become a society of Extreme Do It Yourselfers.

Its almost as if its not enough to spray paint junk found at yard sales to make mantel decorations anymore... Every meal must be made from scratch using ingredients grown in our own gardens. Our clothes must be washed in detergent made from organic materials that we mix up in our bathtubs (at the cost of $.27 for five gallons).

Pinterest, I believe, is nothing but a goddamn enabler.

Emily of Mommin' it Up wrote a great post a few weeks ago she called "Things I'm never going to do". She pointed out a few crafty things she found on Pinterest that might seem cool, but have so many steps or intracacies that they seem crazy to attempt. She said it was time to lower our standards.

I agree, but that sounds negative, like we're settling for crap, when really I'd like to think of it as Stopping the Insanity.

I don't know where this mentality comes from, really. I guess each of us wants the best for our families, and somehow hand made and home grown represents the best of that, especially when we can recreate something expensive for much less money. But I'd rather spend $4 for a sandwich than an hour recreating it.

I'm willing to admit that I have multiple Pinterest boards on which I've pinned no less than 50 recipes I'm never going to have time to make and 57 craft projects that, if I did attempt, would result in nothing but a huge mess.

As evidenced by this:

Don't ask. I'm talented.

After the above fiasco, during which I was trying to create a grouping of wall hangings for my bedroom using blank canvases, spray paint and doilies, I realized something.

I am not a crafty girl, and that's OK.

I am not the Mom who can throw five items into a slow cooker and have dinner ready in 10 minutes.

My kids' birthday parties aren't going to have elaborate themes complete with hand made decorations and custom labels on water their bottles. They're going to get the cake they picked out at Wal-Mart, a happy birthday banner and old fashioned balloons and the meal of their choice. And they think that's fan-frickin'-tastic.

Don't get me wrong, I love my Pinterest.

But its time I stop fooling myself that I'm ever going to be the kind of woman who wants to follow 37-step recipes or crochets family-sized snow suits.

I'm choosing to embrance my anti-do-it-yourself-ness and think I'll stick to filling my boards full of inappropriate things that made me laugh and cocktail recipes.

*DDIY stands for don't do it yourself. I'M STARTING A REVOLUTION!!!
**Also? I've started a board on Pinterest I've called Seriously?!? I'm filling it with pins of things that made me ask, "PEOPLE REALLY DO THIS SHIT?!?" Let me know if you want to be a board contributor ;)

Senseless

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 09 Aug 2012 17:11:00 +0000

Four years ago, a very close family friend's son was killed.

There was a confrontation outside his home and his neighbor, whom he'd fought with several times before, stabbed him with a kitchen knife. He died on the sidewalk.

He was 20 years old.

This blog was about six months old at the time and you know what?

I didn't write about it.

I may have mentioned it later after his killer was sentenced, but I didn't feel like it was my story to tell. I didn't want his father or brother or friends to find my blog, read what I wrote, and go, "WHO ARE YOU TO TALK ABOUT OUR SON/BROTHER/FRIEND? WE KNEW HIM AND LOVED HIM BETTER THAN YOU DID."

Which is stupid. I knew that boy since he was probably eight or nine years old. He was my youngest brother's best friend. I used to pick them up when they needed rides and put their bikes in the trunk of my car. I was "Smelleen". When his Dad wanted pictures to show at his funeral, I dug out several...one of him in a boy scout uniform and another from his sixth grade graduation. One of him sitting on my couch in one of my first apartments among a group of us, sunburned in a tank top and shorts, smiling but not looking at the camera.

In my own way I loved that boy like a brother, and I realize now that I did him a disservice by not writing about him. His life deserves every bit of recognition possible...as short as it was, it was worth it. He was a great kid who would have grown up to be a great man.

For that, I'm sorry, Nathan. I failed you.

This past Sunday there was a mass shooting nearby and the shooter's been linked to white supremacist groups. In many ways I feel about it the way I felt about writing about Nathan. I wasn't directly involved. Who am I to add to the dialogue? I know nothing of what it feels like to be a minority, hated for my religion or the color of my skin. One of the victim's sons has been all over the news lately, eloquently saying much of what I feel. We have to stop hating one another.

Choppers circling over my friends' house, the evening of the shooting

But the truth of it is that my very good friends live about half a block down the street from that Sikh Temple. Sunday afternoon, my boys and I were due to be at their house for a pool party, to celebrate my friend's husband's birthday. She called me around 11:15 a.m.

"Dude. I'm just coming home from my Mom's and she called to tell me there's been a shooting down the street from my house. What the hell?!?"

I was stunned. She told me she'd keep me posted. At 11:40, she called again.

"Oh my God. I don't know what's going on here, but I can't get to my house. The entire street's closed off, and there are tanks and cops everywhere."

She called again at 12:50, finally home. "They got the guy. They thought there might have been another shooter, but there was only the one. He shot several people at that Temple down the street. The entire neighborhood is on lock down."

This? Was abso-freakin-lutely crazy. My best friend and her family...stuck in the middle of what sounded like a war zone, in suburban southeastern Wisconsin.

How do you even begin to react to something like this? It was surreal. I had driven past that Temple probably a hundred times without giving it another thought. I knew almost nothing of the Sikh religion, but knew enough to know they weren't a violent or extremist group. What kind of crazy person would have anything against them? What possible point could he have been trying to make? That no one was safe?

After a few more hours and many more reassurances from the news and my friends that the gunman was dead and things were relatively safe, my boys and I decided to go see our friends, regardless as to whether there was going to be any pool or party. I figured that since the cops had the entire street on lock down and were monitoring everyone who came in and out of their apartment complex, that may have been the safest place to be. We brought food and soda and juice boxes for the kids, as they had been told to stay indoors for several hours by that point. We basically sat around and watched the news coverage together, knowing that a lot of what was being reported was already outdated.

It seemed appropriate to be together and thankful that we were all unharmed.

Flags at half mast, downtown Milwaukee

I didn't shelter my kids from this. It was a horrible, senseless event, and something that's begun to happen much too regularly. I need them to know that bad things do happen, and sometimes to people who are very very good, but that shouldn't stop you from being good.

They got the kid's rated version of events of course, but what I want them to see is that in every dark story there is lots of light. For every bad guy, there are many good guys. There have been reports of heroes, and strength and hope out of this. But most of all, I want them to know about this in the hopes that it will never happen again. I want them, at some point, to possibly live in a time when things like this don't happen...that their kids won't need to find the bright points in a truly dark story.

At their young ages, they're just as dumbstruck by this as I am.

"Mommy, why did he do that?"

All I could say is, "I don't know, baby."

They already understand that whatever the problem is, violence is not the answer. It will become a very deep seeded belief in their little minds that no matter how different another person or group of people looks or seems to be, that their differences aren't reason to be afraid or to feel hate.

I don't personally know any Sikh people, or anyone who attends that Temple. But this event has touched my life, so I will tell my very small part of the story because it contains a very powerful message.

I'm just truly sorry that the people who worship at the Sikh Temple in Oak Creek, Wisconsin had to lose so much in order for me to be able to convey it.

The Summer of Boys

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 14:34:00 +0000

I haven't been writing again lately. Obviously.

You see I'm living in this wonderful world of Little Boy Land and we've been busy squeezing every moment of enjoyment from it we can.

This is the summer when my children are no longer "too little". They're full on BOYS. They love sticks and dirt and bugs and asking questions about every single thing that might ever slightly occur to them.

"Momma, why can't vampires see their reflections?"

My after-work hours are filled with Nerf darts and Transformer masks, baseball gloves and popcicles.

Transformer mask + Batman costume = Perfection!

We've been to baseball games and parades, gone camping, taken off the training wheels and jumped in the pool. Fifty-six hundred times.

Will looks nervous for his turn.

We've gone out for ice cream at bed time, colored our hair blue and purple and climbed on rocks.

My life is a whirlwind of applying and reapplying sunscreen and Shout!ing out the dirt from the seats of my sons' shorts. I've attempted to teach them how to roast the perfect marshmallow, how to choose the right spot for your tent, how to put up that tent. Taught them how a compass works, how to use binoculars and to say "thank you for having me."

I've applied and removed temporary tattoos and stickers and Spiderman band-aids. I've put "itch medicine" on "skeeta bites" and Neosporin on scrapes. Explained why you shouldn't scratch either.

Grinning with bubbles on his tummy!

Its no wonder that I'm exhausted. But you know?

I'm unbelievably blessed to have all of this.

I needed to write this today, to remind myself of just how lucky I am to have my kids and the life I have. I had a bit of a breakdown last week -- some days it all just feels like too much. In addition to being a single parent and working my job and paying my bills and balancing a budget and making a home and trying to have some sort of personal life of my own...its overwhelming to always be the kind of parent who wants to give my kids more than what I had as a kid; to be the parent who does all of the "extras" and has fun and teaches and has patience through it all. Some days it feels hopeless to think that possibly...maybe...I might not always be doing all of this alone. I was feeling defeated and powerless and tired. Why do I bother to keep doing all these extra things for my kids? Do they even notice? Do they care? Does anyone? I needed a friend to kick me in the pants and remind me that when I feel like no one notices, she does. When I feel like no one loves me that I have her, and my kids...THEY love me, always. Even when I'm being stupid. And THEY are the reasons that I keep going...keep hoping...keep giving it my all. Even if no one else notices.

wingman

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Tue, 26 Jun 2012 16:58:00 +0000

Being single is weird.

Like...really weird.

I guess if I'd never have been married or if I'd had more experience with being single I wouldn't think so, but still, to this day there are aspects of single life that just seem foreign to me.

Example: I have single friends who spend, what seems to me, to be ridiculous amounts of time on the search for, luring of, and capture, of a man. Those three things seem to be what incorporates the bulk of their free time. I won't get into how much time they spend readying themselves for these men, but I guess I'm just not that way.

Since becoming single I will admit that I at least look for men these days. I spent three months on a dating site, and in a bar or a restaurant, I'll look around at all the patrons, taking notice of the inventory, so to speak. (Seriously, I never really did this before.)

But suffice it to say I don't spend my days as that single divorcee who waits for the UPS man in her slinky bathrobe.

Yesterday I took the day off from work because our regular sitter was unavailable and darn it, its summer and I have PTO. I had planned to spend the day at the lake with my boys, swimming and sand-castling until the sun went down, but wouldn't you know it, we woke up to temps that barely hit 70° instead of what's become the usual 90°.

This Momma didn't feel like spending the day with chattering teeth, so instead I suggested we spend an afternoon at a local park that's got a free splash pad. The kids could get wet and I could just sit and watch. (Genius, no?)

We've been to this park many times because it also has a playground and a baseball diamond, and if you ask my children, a park just isn't a real park if it doesn't have a ball diamond. We had a picnic lunch, then the kids splashed until they got chilled, then we headed over to the baseball diamond. After about 45 minutes of that we took a snack break and Nick headed over to the playground.

While we were snacking, a man and his daughter showed up for a little batting practice.

At first I told Will to stay away...to let the other family have their turn. But after awhile I realized that was silly, and when he asked me if he could go play with them, I instructed him to ask first. I mean, I've pitched to more than my fair share of random park children and don't mind it at all.

This nice Dad of course said yes, and chuckled when Will, already having broken the ice with his "can I play with you guys?" question loudly announced, "HI! I'M WILL!" then took his place as catcher. (Yes, totally down in his stance and everything.) Not too long after that Nick joined them as well and the four of them played baseball for nearly an hour while I sat nearby and read.

Not wanting to overly strain this poor man, I eventually told my kids we had to go, seeing as we'd already spent most of our day at the park. I called Will over and said, "Make sure you say thank you to that nice man, OK? It was very kind of him to let you and Nick play!"

To which he responded loudly, "OK Mom I will! But what's your phone number? I need to give it to that guy so that he can call us in case he wants to come play baseball with us again!"

Who needs match.com?

Honestly, I have no idea if that man was married or single, but he seemed very kind and patient. When I told this story to my friend she said something along the lines of, "So? Was he wearing a ring?" Which, to be honest, I hadn't checked. I had to reply, "I dunno, I couldn't tell. He was wearing a baseball glove!"

The many sides of crazy

noreply@blogger.com (Colleen - Mommy Always Wins) — Thu, 21 Jun 2012 19:37:00 +0000

Yesterday after work the boys and I had plans to meet up with another friend and her family for a little mid-week dinner. Only about half an hour before my work day was through, she called to say she wasn't feeling well and asked if we could reschedule. No problem...

Shortly after, I drove to my ex's house to get the boys. Not wanting them (nor myself, lets be honest) to be disappointed by the lack of seeing our friends, I figured the three of us could still do something fun. Being the kind of Mom I am, I let them have their choice.

"So boys. Should we go to the splash park or to the pond to swim?" Both being stellar choices because it was 95°F outside.

After much more discussion than I would have thought necessary, and trying to weasel in options C and D, Nick said splash park. Will said pond. I also thought the pond was a better choice. As is our family usual, two against one meant Will and I got our way. Typically, the person who didn't get their choice knows better than to be upset, reassured that more likely than not they'll get their choice next time. I figure its a small way to teach a bigger life lesson.

Now, either should have been a good choice. Either would have been fun. I mean, kids + water = happy, right?

Wrong.

Nick decided he was going to pout like pouting was an Olympic sport.

I was more than a little upset. My day had been long, plans had been changed last minute, the weather was hot and here I was offering to take my kids somewhere fun. He was acting like I was going to make him sit through the Stations of the Cross or something.

I explained that he was being ungrateful, and what that meant. I said that there were kids in this world who didn't have fun Mommies who took them to parks to swim. Told him that some kids don't have Mommies period, let alone Mommies who could shell out $10 to take them swimming. (Silly, yes, but they charge there.)

"I. DON'T. CARE!!!" he bellowed, crossing his little muppet arms over his skinny chest.

My mind? Was lost.

I pulled over so that I could turn around when I yelled that only good kids got to go swimming. As Nick began to cry, I shouted that we were going to start going to work in soup kitchens or clothing pantries so that they could both learn what it meant to be without things. I told them that the idea that my children were going to take nice things for granted was unacceptable.

"WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO SWIMMING OR WOULD YOU LIKE TO GO HOME?!?" I bellowed.

(Not my best parenting moment, by the way.)

sniff... "Swimming please." sniff sniff...

And because I was so clearly hot and bothered and I wanted to go swimming, we headed off once again toward the park.

The car was silent in that way that cars often are after melt downs have been had. You could still feel tension from the residual anger and embarrassment lingering in the air.

I was glad to be moving again. A breeze swirled in through the open windows, replacing some of the stifling hotness that had accumulated in just a few short minutes, and I was deciding we were going to get past the little snafu of an argument and we could still have fun when a small voice broke the silence from the backseat. It was Will.

"Mom? Why do girls have vaginas?"

o_O