United States of Motherhood

Calgon, Can I Drink You?

2010-03-15T10:08:00.000-07:00

You've seen the commercials:

If a bath helps that much for the harried housefrau, then I am betting drinking the bottle still not would kill the stress of helping three kids which have ridiculously detailed, major science investigations and poster boards due for the science fair on Thursday. Nope!

Nor would it help for the Northwest Age Group Sectionals 3-day swim meet coming up for which PB and Eldest qualified. Three days 7 AM until 8 PM. Didn't get a hotel this time so add 45-60 minute commute to that. Sitting in hot sauna swim meet with overly competitive swim moms with no escape. At least the majority of them aren't on our team anymore. Sigh!

Did I mention PB's 6th grade orientation, the kids' last chance swim practice for the meet, PB and Li'l Man's science fair, and packing for said meet all explode into impossible to do it all on Thursday evening?

Last week, I helped Li'l Man trick the rest into eating raw potatoes and onions and apples blind-folded.

I then helped Eldest wrap and tie his expensive swim suits to a football, take them to the bottom of a pool, and then time it's ascent. Over and over and bloody over.

The week before, I helped PB forensically brush off worm casting on rotten blueberries, corn and egg shells before weighing to figure out what the hundreds of red wiggler composting worms that have resided in my pantry for the last month prefer.

Saturday, I spent the day driving swim carpool at 7 AM, hitting a pool rep meeting at 8 AM, wildly buying presents for kid's parties invited to at 9 AM, driving carpool back at 10:30 AM, driving the kids two different out of town parties which were of course off-set by hours.

Yesterday I spent 11 hours helping kids interpret data, editing their hypotheses and controlled variables, and then uploaded their pictures to the school slide show for the fair.

Today, I've blocked out the whole day to printing out their pics and looking over the rest of their work so we can finish up posters after school, homework, and 4 hours swim practice and commute.

I am so sick of mommy homework. CG finished his last final exams and papers for his MBA this week-end. Whoop!

He asked me to read them. Not whoop!

This girl cannot take anymore homework that is not her own. Yep, I am getting Deja Vu from last year. I am rethinking this lofty law school goal I've always had. Now that CG is done, it's time to think of me and really my mind is slamming shut at all the homework involved. I am burnt out on homework and I haven't even been in school in more than a dozen years.

Should I mention the birthday kid of one party was running a high fever that I found about as my son gave him a welcome hug? If we get sick this week, we are toast!

So I am thinking a bottle of Calgon won't do it, but perhaps this:

The highlight of this week-end? My teenager made us Sunday breakfast. Hot, steaming pancakes, cold orange juice, and nothing to do but relax. Sadly, my boy didn't make bacon or Bloody Marys. Haven't started that part of his training. Heh.

There's always next time because this mommy loves her vodka and has one more drink ticket this month.

I am sure in another dozen years, when all my babies are in college, graduate school, or careers, I will miss these moments of helping glue on pie charts, find funky fonts, and figuring out what the difference is between controlled, manipulated, and responding variables that I am sure I did not know when I was in high school, much less 2nd, 5th, and 8th grades.

But for now?

So burnt out.

Source: Flickr by pascalbovet.com

Innocent Acceptance

2010-03-11T10:31:00.000-08:00

Oh, that we all could have such sweet innocence and immediate acceptance.

"You are husband and husband?"

Observation: "You are much alike."

Observation: "So that means you love each other."

Acceptance: "I'm going to play pin-pong. You can play if you want to."

No other reason needed. Why can't we all be the same?

____________________

Update: Sadly, the video was yanked. Makes me wonder why. My heart went from singing to sadness...

Anyhoo, for what it's worth, here's the transcript thanks to Evan at TruthWinsOut

Text onscreen: Thanksgiving.

[Calen, a little boy, is standing in a bathroom next to a sink, looking up into the camera.]

Calen: A husband’s a boy.

Adult male voice from behind camera: Right.

Calen: A wife is a girl and a husband’s a boy. Then you two are husbands! [He hold up two fingers on both hands.] Wifes are girls; husbands are boys.

Voice from behind camera: Right.

Second adult male voice, from next to camera: That’s right. So, if you’re a boy—

Calen: You’ll be a husband.

Second Voice: Right.

First Voice: Yeah, we’re both husbands.

Calen: [puts his head in his hand] You’re both husbands?

Second Voice: Is that confusing—

Calen: You married each other?! That’s funny! [slaps hand to head]

Second Voice: That’s funny, right?

Calen: Yeah. [looks thoughtful] I usually see husbands and wives, but this is the VERY FIRST TIME I saw husbands and husbands! [grins excitedly]

[The two men laugh; Second Voice peers around and grins into camera.]

Calen: So funny. [edit] So that means you LOVE EACH OTHER!

First Voice: Yeah.

Calen: Yeah. Yeah, they’re much alike. You’re much alike. Hey, I’m going to play ping-pong now.

First Voice: Okay.

[Camera follows Calen out into the hallway; he turns back and looks at the two men.]

Calen: You can play if you want to.

Text onscreen: You’re much alike.

Why I Forgot My Homework: Camouflaged!

2010-03-11T05:00:00.000-08:00

Sigh.

Li'l man forgot his homework yesterday...

...again!

The kid is so scattered.

I mention it to CG.

His response was,

"Duh! It's camouflaged."

Right you are, dear.

Right you are.

Death Knell of Scout's Teenage Heart

2010-03-10T11:26:00.000-08:00

First, it was Judd during the touching tribute to late director John Hughes at Sunday's Academy Awards:

Credit: Michael Caulfield/WireImage.com; Barry King/WireImage

Then there was a death of one of the Coreys this week.

Source: NYdailynew.com

Sigh. Did you hear that? My '80's teenage heart throb crushes are crushed. Stabbed through the heart. Dead. Splat.

Oh, wait, there's still Christian:

Source: Buzznet.com

O.K. All better. My teenage heart in this 37 year old body still throbs.

__________________________________________________________

By the way, I'm on Facebook, my friends. Just saying.

If you want. You know. {Kicking dirt with my toe} Check it out?

Spa Treatments in Unlikely Places: Take Advantage

2010-03-10T10:29:00.000-08:00

Puuurrrrrrr...

I had a 40 minute foot rub on Monday. Professional foot rub. With scented lotion.

It was accompanied by a paraffin wax hand treatment and scented candles.

While I wore shades and watched the TV overhead.

So relaxing.

The most relaxing teeth cleaning I have ever had and I rarely floss (shame!), so teeth cleanings are usually not so fun. There was no scolding though. Just a friendly, concerned hygienist and dentist who took lots of time to discuss toothpastes and cold sensitivities.

Afterward, I was offered and accepted an espresso from their array of juices and water and tasty beverages and snacks and huge bowls of gum.

All the while deep wood gleamed, flat screens flashed, and spa candles glowed.

No, before you say it, no, I paid no more than my husband who goes to his family dentist without overhead television, massages, and wax treatments. I paid less than my kids who go to a pediatric dentist and get sticky hands and video games in the lobby.

By the way, this is a brother team , one a Ryan Seacrest doppelganger, who gave me the least pain free crown replacement I have ever had and one a young family guy with the best dental chair-side treatment ever. They also comped me $900 in treatment when there was a mix up and they told me insurance would cover it...and it didn't.

So these dentists? Walk on water.

I got busy in the last year and actually skipped a cleaning for 13 months. Yikes! Believe you me with free foot massages and your choice of hand massages or paraffin wax, I will not be missing anymore. In fact, I am thinking I might need to get in a bit earlier. I scheduled my next appointment the week after school starts in the fall because I think I'll need a massage then. Heh!

So why am I telling you this? I never knew dentists like this existed. No, my friends, these are not our mothers' dentists.

I paid far more for no frills, painful treatment in California.

I am thinking as the economy languishes more people are skipping appointments which means dentists are hungry for your business. Start shopping and find one more value-added like mine. The bargain shopper in me tells you to do it today.

And if you live in the Seattle area? Go check them out ... just save some massage time for me.

Note: No, I was not paid to write this nor do my dentists even know I wrote this or am a blogger. Just a big fan!

Revenge Best Served Gold, Threesomes, Flyaways, & Not So Classy Oscar Moments

2010-03-08T08:42:00.000-08:00

I only saw a few of the movies nominated...Avatar (Boo!), The Hurt Locker (Yay! Stick it to James, Kathryn), and UP!

Source: Guardian.co.uk

Yes, it was revenge best served gold for this divorced couple. James' ego needed a comeuppance.

I tweeted throughout. So many tweets. Very little about actual films.

What? The Oscars are about movies? The hell you say.

Whatever. Fashion was what I was all about. Sandra Bullock looked so fantastically dreamy:

Source: Celebrity-mania.com

As did Kate Winslet:

Source: Celebrity-gossip.net

Then came the eyebrows raises. As in what happened to your hair SJP:

Source: Justjared.com

Source: Beautybanter.com

And your hair Rachel McAdams:

Source: Beautybanter.com

It's hard to tell here, but on the podium presenting with a dark background, my thoughts leaned towards the mussed prom night hair when your boyfriend tackles you in the backseat.

Oh the thousands of dollars you ladies paid to have wispy, frizzy flyaways looking like you'd been rode hard and put away wet. I kept thinking invest in some serum, hair balm, hairspray....something.

Then I saw Zac also looking mussed and rode hard:

Source: AnythingHollywood.com

...And it all made sense.

All three presenters. Must have been intimately crowded backstage.

Mussed threesome. FF.

Go cougars! Heh.

My one disappointment was in Hillary Swank. There she stood on some red carpet to a party last night talking about in her words, "What a classy event it was."

Source: justjared.buzznet.com

Oh, Hillary. What a mis-step. Always so beautiful and classy, now it must be said always so beautiful and usually so classy. She looked like a Bond Girl that simply needed one accessory...a tramp stamp tattoo.

Your thoughts?

Knock on Cherry Wood

2010-03-03T17:00:00.000-08:00

So I've heard of the snowcasms, snowicanes, and snowbominations of this past winter all over the nation.

I've heard of Atlanta becoming the snow capital of the south.

I've heard from my mom of the freezing cold and torrential downpours in California.

And I think...

Haha! Wheeee! It's about time.

You see, it seems we stole California's weather up here in Seattle and they have our wet, dark and drearies there.

I want to feel sorry for them, but then I see that my bulb garden is already starting to burst from the warm earth.

To that I wiggle my butt and stick out my tongue and say, "I love you global warming and El Nino because you make my front yard look glorious in the winter. "

Sigh. And now that I have written this post?

I have hexed us all in the gorgeous Pacific Northwest.

Knock on cherry-blossomed wood. Heh!

Got Guilt? Make Pudding

2010-03-03T13:54:00.000-08:00

I made some delicious rice pudding today.

Lots of pudding.

Way more pudding than we should humanly eat.

Blame it on the Chinese food lady. She asked me how many servings of rice. CG always knows how much to order, but CG wasn't there. I innocently ordered rice for five. I received two huge buckets and one small packed with rice.

Rice for thirty.

We used half of one big container and the rest languished in the reefer. We polished off the rest of the leftovers, but who likes rice once it's gone cold?

So there it sat. Untouched. Thank you very much!

Today, I opened the fridge and my guilt set in coming from a waste not, want not, never throw anything away childhood. Normally, I would throw it out, but that was a whole lot of rice.

TEN solid packed cups to be exact.

So, impromptu rice pudding it was with an impromptu recipe based on my gut and what we had on hand because most importantly? We are out of milk:

Scout's Guilt Pudding

4 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
2 cans sweetened, condensed milk
1 can evaporated milk
2 cups non-fat half 'n half or heavy cream or soy milk or whatever dairy you do have
2 cups water
4 pinches salt
Cinnamon and nutmeg to taste
10 cups cold, already cooked rice

Notice there are no gnarly raisins in there because I hate them. Instead, we add fresh blueberries on top. Add all ingredients from vanilla to spices together until well mixed.

Add rice. Put in heavy bottomed pan like a Dutch oven. Stir until evenly distributed and all lumps are out of rice.

Place on stove under medium-low heat. Stir frequently. Once contents start to boil, turn on low and simmer for 20 minutes or until most of the liquid is absorbed, the rice has softened, and the pudding is to the desired creaminess. Note: This requires lots of tasting. Don't hold back. Take one for the team! Heh!

Once cooked, cool slightly then put in container to chill in fridge. Sprinkle with nutmeg and voila!

There now. Much better to have rice pudding awaiting your rumbly tummy than cold hardened drying out rice, eh?

Try it.

I still might futz with it some more, but mmmmm did it make a fabulous lunch for CG and I and a great after school snack for the kids. Moreover, it stems the guilt and makes me feel like my childhood hero MacGyver who was also quite yummy.

Don't you love cooking and transforming something from nothing that might have even ended up in the refuse bin?

So to you, my friends: Tell me about your best Macgyver kitchen recipes in comments.

Devoured By Inappropriate Conversations

2010-03-02T10:34:00.000-08:00

Driving home from swim practice last night, Li'l Man asks for some clarification from backseat.

Li'l Man: "Mom, what does devour mean?"
Me {looking in rear view mirror}: It means to masticate with great vigor and ferociousness."
Li'l Man: "Did you say masturbate??"

Me: "No mastic..."

Li'l Man {interrupting}: "You said masturbate with what?"

Me: "Nooo! Masticate with vig..."

Li'l Man: "Masturbate. You said masturbate."

Two other spawn giggle incessantly. Grrrr!

Me {sharply}: "No, I said masticate with great vigor and..."

Li'l Man: "What's vigor?"

Me {mimicking up and down movement}: "To move something with force as in to shake with great vigor while strangling..."

Eldest {sitting next to me}: "So to masturbate with great vigor."

Me: "No, no the word is masticate and with great vigor and ferociousness like a beast."

Eldest:"Um, so masturbate..."

Me: "No, not masturbate."

Eldest {slyly from passenger seat next to me}: "But isn't to shake up and down with great vigor masturbating?"

Kids twitter and I realize I've been set up.

Me {blushing}: {{{{Sigh}}}}

Yes, my friends, we have entered the gang up on mom through crude veiled double-entendre years which totally flusters me. So bizarre to see this kind of humor in one's little beasties. Gah!

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

2010-02-26T05:00:00.000-08:00

As a former Army officer who served with closeted soldiers that often worked twice as hard and were ten times as strong, it's time for a change.

It. really. shouldn't. matter.

What should matter is their intelligence, their training, and their qualifications.

I mean really, in a foxhole with a gas mask on, do you really care if your buddy loves differently than you or do you care that they will get your back?

More importantly, if they are going to risk their lives defending us all in war, isn't it the right thing for benefits, housing, and family pay to be given to their partners? They risk their lives and their lives are just as worthy as any other soldier.

I've since had some Army friends come out to me and nothing changed. They are my friends. I would still trust them with my life. I wish they didn't have to hide their true selves to me all those years ago.

I just don't understand why this is so hard to understand and why people want to keep others closeted, especially people who have never served our country, taken that oath, and risked their lives themselves.

Why? Can someone explain this to me?

Blacklisted! My Lily White Tush Was Blacklisted??

2010-02-25T09:35:00.000-08:00

{Can you tell I'm squinting in very meany Clint Eastwood way as I write this?}

Grrrrrr....

Let me tell you a little story, m'kay? CG went on a little trip this week. Forty-eight hours in Bay Area.

{Sniffle}

No one to hang out with during the day or mock. No one to make me coffee and bring it to me on bended knee.

Of course, since ~~my blog incriminates and mocks him too many time to count~~ my blog is so scintillating, forty-eight whole hours was simply too long for him to not check out between meetings.

He types in " ~~http://unitedstatesofmotherhood.com~~ take me to the best blog in the whole wide world that makes my heart get twitterpated and execute Patrick Swayze-worthy, lovely, geeky Grand Jetés."

(Are we all getting an image of CG in a pink tutu and pocket protector? Yes? Good.}

With panic, he realizes he's been cut off from my lovely words.

Cut. Off.

Sadly, IT TURNS OUT MY BLOG WAS BLOCKED AT HIS CORPORATE CALIFORNIA ABODE.

What? What? Them there are fighting words, mister.

Seems his company uses Websense which deemed my blog too hot to handle. Me? Inappropriate for the casual Friday set? What-ev-er.

Hmmmph.

He told me it didn't even give a reason such as adult content or bad manners or blogging from one's commode.

Nope. Nothing to go on.

Just blocked.

I started wondering what my blog could possibly be categorized and caterwauled that I could be losing practically tens of readers to actual working as corporate wage slaves. You know doing their jobs rather than reading my beautifferic inanities.

Now how tragic is that?

This. Was. Wrong.

I checked another categorization place Lightspeed that said I was practically a lily white, squeaky clean, paragon of virtue in the blogosphere compared to other dens of horror. I was even {don't laugh}...

Miraculously?

"G Rated."

Hey! I said don't laugh or I'll have to start throwing F-bombs and then my squeaky clean, lily whiteness will get all muddy!

So then I read about how hard it was to be unblocked and once flagged, always flagged, yadda, yadda.

~~Shit!~~ Err, sugar boogers!

So, I wrote all enraged and frothing and huffing and puffing to Websense. How dare they block little ol' Scout. What did I ever do to them? Meanies.

With venom, I slayed them with vitriolic words like this:

"Uhhh, howdy? I am blocked. Why? {wobbley chin tremble} Sniffle."

Within 24 hours, they wrote back. They reviewed. I was all good:

Thank you for writing to Websense.

The site you submitted has been reviewed. We have made an update to the following URL(s) in our master database to address this issue:

http://unitedstatesofmotherhood.com/ - Social Networking and Personal Sites
Categorization updates should be available in the next scheduled publication of the database. A new database is published every business day, five days a week, Pacific Standard Time. You should notice any updates referred to in this message within 72 hours.
Thank you for your assistance,

The Websense Database Services Staff

Wow. That was easy.

I thought I was going to need to slay dragons and besmirch their reputation in fine mommy blogging spirit. You know. Get dirty.

Nope.

So the moral of the story if ever you are to find yourself blocked because of some crazy ass, ridiculous, Draconian, Big Brother software that evil corporations employ to {silly them} keep their employees, you know, productive?

Stay calm, giggle, show some lily white, squeaky clean leg and it will all be just fine.

Honestly though? I think a dusty leg would work to because Websense seems purty nice.

So to you unproductive tens of readers sitting in cubes at this very moment? Stop working and get back to reading, m'kay?

Okay, now back to mocking my husband...

Interrupted: Pensive & Pondering Legacy

2010-02-23T08:19:00.001-08:00

Where have I been?!

I last left you hanging with brain scans looming.

Be not afraid, my friends. Scout's noggin seems to hurt for no reason at all. I am free of tumors, aneurysms, and all sorts of friendly aliens in my head including the rocks CG suggested. Hmmmph!

It seems apparent that I was the supreme Dr. Google and cluster headaches seem most likely. For now, I am happy to be pain free and invincible...

Except for that pesky liver disease and need to choose a surgical option before I bleed to death part. Sigh. Invincible I tell you!

Instead of keeping you all apprised (many, many thanks for all the emails, FB messages, Twitter & StumbleUpon DMs--You guys do care!), I spent the kid's winter break on a sundry of sports and busy.

First up was a two day swim meet with a first sectional time made for PB and an AAA time for Eldest...

Interrupted only with Li'l Man's vomit through out the entirety of CG's Mini's backseat and on library books (Gah!) and the other two DQ-ing several of their events. Li'l Man now holds the record in the Scouty family for producing bile: 12 times in 8 hours. Joy!

Between the yuck, PB and CG went on their traditional Daddy Daughter Dance. So sweet. I love moments like these which were only interrupted by the clenching of my heart as I realized this was their very last dance:

Besides stomach plagues, we spent vacation skiing one day as a family and another day I made the trip to take the kids with all sorts of intentions of blogging in the lodge....

Interrupted again by a dead battery and three kids and two friends chomping at the bit to ski and a looming deadline for ski lessons enrolled. Stress!

Blessed be CG for managing to test, deem battery truly dead, and going out to buy a new battery at 7 AM while I was woefully tasked to find where to get battery (Success!) and to "unscrew old battery" whilst having freaky thoughts of being interrupted by electrocution (not so good) which somehow turned into me losing a nut in the engine never to be found (If the SUV dies, it will be ALL my fault) and dropping the bolt somewhere else in the engine.

Happily, I survived. I am invincible.

Turns out, as CG pointed out, nut was crimped on and was never meant to come off--only loosened as he said he, "Told me to do."

{Eyebrow raise}

This explains why it was so hard to get that @#$%^& nut off. Heh!

We arrived at skiing and suddenly thoughts of blogging my life and thoughts left my head and I took in the gorgeous day. Sadly?

Interrupted again this time by Eldest's hugely swollen thumb and wrist from a snowboarding spill. Note to self: Taking a kid's friend snowboarding with kids often results in unwarranted risk-taking, black diamonds and injury. Not a big surprise there. My kids are just naturally too breakable. Remember this:

Swim mom that I am, I was more worried about what his swim coach would say. Heh. Coach had made me promise he wouldn't get hurt. Ooops!

We went straight from skiing to swim practice with pulsating wrist. Poor coach said he had been thinking about Eldest all day and worrying. Yep, it is now apparent skiing and serious competitive swimming don't mix.

Eldest made the decision to interrupt our third ski trip planned that week.

That's OK. That left room for house cleaning, a visiting dinner guest, planting the hundreds of sprouting bulbs as always I never found the time to plant in fall, finally conquering the green algae bloom we've had in the fish tank for months with massive, multiple water changes and evil chemicals, swimathon donation canvassing, and starting up a worm farm in MY PANTRY!!!

Yes, my friends, it's science experimenting time again and at least there's not rotting chicken in my coat closet this time. Joy!

And oh, yes, more, more and more swim practices. Add some futzing with yearbook pages and lots of time doing the Swim Team Pool Rep thang. Joy!

In all this busy that I am sure is like all your own, I heard a clang. Interrupted.

My sister miscarried. Interrupted.

A sharp fist in my heart. Then another. Interrupted.

Something stopped me in my tracks cold. Interrupted.

An old friend that served with me on the PTA board and countless class parties. A friend with three sons, two who are in the same grades and are the same age as my sons. A friend whose husband coached Li'l Man's basketball team last year and whose baby came to our crazy Mountain Dew fueled sleepover weeks ago. The same little boy who is Li'l Man's deskmate in his 2nd grade class?

Heartbreakingly? She died over this winter break.

I can only imagine that during my busy mommy bluster and wondering when the kids' school vacation would end, she was saying goodbye to her babies one last time thankful for those last school free days.

I knew she had cancer. Non-hodgkins lymphoma. I first heard about it from other moms over one summer break. I saw her colorful scarves over the last two years and spoke briefly with her at the Halloween party I headed up in our sons' class.

I never asked about her cancer. I was afraid. I didn't know how. Didn't have the words.

Never assumed it would interrupt her life. Her family's life.

Mommies are invincible. They are needed. They can't leave.

I got the email from another mommy friend this last week-end that she was gone and immediately thought this cannot be true. My mind refused it.

As we told our kids, I saw the fear in their eyes. The tremble of a little chin as Li'l Man realized his friend's mom was lost. Lost was that belief that Moms will always be there. Mothers, young or not, are not invincible.

For the last three days, my mind keeps mulling it over. Keeps mourning the loss. Trying to make sense where there can be no sense made.

Yesterday, I spent hours going over the high school course catalog with Eldest.

We planned out the next four years of courses. The registration forms asked for dreams and career aspiration from my eighth grader. We were still writing head bent together at out kitchen table. We sat dreaming and speculating about a career for Eldest in sports medicine when Li'l Man came home from school with the letter.

Interrupted.

The school counselor had discussed the loss in class. The letter was formalizing what we already knew to be true. Her baby would be back in school tomorrow.

I suddenly realized her eldest would be in high school too and she should be at her kitchen table, the one I sat at as we audited the PTA books so many years ago, with her Eldest dreaming...

I weep.

What do I take from this beyond how very precious life is? How silly it is to get frustrated with so much time with one's kids when others will never ever have enough?

She left us all too soon. 41 year old. Three young boys. Her legacy.

I think manically of all the things I put off over the years. All my dreams. All my goals. All my failings. My to-dos.

Before the break, I told Li'l Man's 2nd grade teacher I had some health issues that would not allow volunteering bi-weekly in the classroom as before. I gave no details.

With another mom in his class so very ill, he took it quite seriously. Too seriously for my comfort. He asked if the kids should see counselors. I almost felt like a fraud at the time, but the headaches, my period, my liver, add high blood pressure and cholesterol and doctor's warnings and this time for some reason, I was heeding.

I did not even go to the kids' Valentine's party the day before break. The first time this mommy has ever missed a class party in eight years. Oh, the guilt.

I thought the kids would not notice. They did. They commented. They wondered. Li'l Man told me he liked me there even if I did not plan the party. PB insisted my parties were the best and was disappointed.

I started to cave. Then I said wait. No, I needed to take care of myself for these kids.

Now, that sentiment is foremost in my mind with a young mother gone.

It interrupts any guilt I feel for not taking on the volunteer load I have had in the past. I need to concentrate on me so hopefully I am around for my kids' high school graduations, and college, and weddings, and grandbabies. Those are all better than a class party, board meetings, and hours spent laying out yearbooks rather than excising and eating right and making those appointments for needed medical procedures.

Source

I still may be interrupted because no one truly chooses. She did not choose. However, I can do what I can and sadly I wonder if I have started too late? Interruptions never happen when you expect.

I feel the clock ticking. I worry about my legacy.

One thing I can be sure of? My kids are my legacy to the world.

And my legacy to them?

This blog and those cursed bulbs are my legacy for my kids to remember me by. If ever my life is interrupted, I hope those blooms show up when life seems coldest and these words here in this blog remind them of how much they were loved and how much hope I have for them when their lives fill with despair.

As for my friend? I repeat. She left us all too soon. 41 year old. Three young boys. Her legacy.

I hugged Li'l Man today ferociously. Too tight.

I whispered fiercely in his ear to be sure to hug her baby tight today in class...

He promised he would.

Headache (!)

2010-02-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

As the title suggests, I have them.

Fuck do I have them.

Usually migraines with zig-zaggety lines and words upside down that register hours before as as warning. Painful, but an infrequent visitor thrice a year.

But, lately, it's different.

Very different.

Saturday, I was woken up by the most splitting headache in my entire life. It felt like an axe striking through my forehead and cleaving it in two. Worse than any migraine I have ever had bar none. I could have sworn it was a stroke.

Thanks be to CG for bringing cool wash clothes, pain meds., water, and being there to hear me moan and sob all night then taking the kids bleary-eyed to AM swim practice.

The next day I was groggy, my eyes burned, and I felt hungover. My head felt tender, but I survived. Beaten. On the Couch. All day.

Sunday?

Deja Vu.

Sheer agony woke me from a sound sleep at 4 AM. A hot poker behind my right eye and again the axe-murdered syndrome. CG said he knew one was coming because my breathing changed in my sleep and woke him up first.

My friends? Worse than labor. Yes, my friends, coming from a mama that had a 10 lb. baby, I still say WORSE THAN LABOR. It lasted for an hour.

It left me feeling bruised, afraid to sleep, and with burning eyes.

I reached out to friends on Facebook. I researched on line.

Believe me I'm Dr. Google with the rest of them. I quickly diagnosed myself as having cluster headaches otherwise known as suicide headaches. I was sure the doctor's appointment I scheduled was a mere formality.

Who needs a friggin' medical degree when you have Google.

My doctor friends also from Google University chimed in on Facebook .

{Hi Helen}

Another friend agreed. Many expressed concerned.

Friends, Facebook is sometimes not your friend.

I was told to not be alarmed BUT get to an ER STAT for ct scan. Heh. Something about:

"Sudden, severe headache that is worse than any headache the patient has ever had is the classic red-flag for subarachnoid bleed; however, it can also occur with cerebral sinus thrombosis, arterial ... See Moredissections, and idiopathic intracranial hypertension. Monitor these patients with pulse oximetry, watch blood pressure and ECG closely, establish intravenous access, and obtain an emergency head CT. Elevate the head"

Yikes, second opinions are a bitch! Heh!

I diagnosed through my keyboard on FB that if my brain was bleeding, the headache wouldn't have been intermittent. Call me Google Neurologist, bitch. Hee!

Dr. Helen concurred.

So today, I went to doctor. she was concerned. Very concerned. She said these can be hints of what is to come. She ordered a MRI and MRA just to get a baseline and, "To rule out anything out of the usual."

On lab slip, it said "Tumors and aneurysms."

Fuck! Tumors and aneurysms??? Sounds like sub arachnoid bleed.

Officially alarmed.

Touche, Helen, touche. You are the best Google Neurologist on the planet.

I'll keep you posted...

Boycotting Mr. Johnny Depp & Alice in Wonderland

2010-02-08T09:38:00.000-08:00

Have you seen the trailers for Alice in Wonderland?

Source

Looks fabulous, eh?

Just last night, I saw one during the Super Bowl and was so excited.

Today? Not so much.

Today I read this.

Today, I will not be taking my children to said movie.

Nope, not going to happen ever.

I don't want one dime to support wunderkind Johnny Depp.

Why?

He supports a child rapist. He supported Roman Polanski in an interview.

Yes, the same Roman Polanski that drugged, raped, and yes, sodomized a 13 year old child.

Same Roman Polanksi that has been able to evade prosecution from justice due to his celebrity and money.

As a mother, I am sickened that Johnny, as a father, thinks this is okay--forgivable even because Roman's an aged great director.

Source

"[Polanski] is not a predator. He's 75 or 76 years old. He has got two beautiful kids, he has got a wife that he has been with for a long, long time. He is not out on the street."

WTF? Yep, his sexy points account just went to zero.

Sad that a father cannot see justice is needed even decades after. A message needs to be sent that raping a child is always wrong even if you are very rich and famous and have the ability to flee prosecution.

Johnny? You are officially on my shit list.

Sorry, Disney. you might want to get Mr. Johnny Depp to rethink his position before you put him into any more movies for families.

Yes, I will be boycotting Alice in Wonderland.

Who is with me?

Source

We need to send a message that:

Yes, rape is rape!

Why now? Justice knows no time.

This is American Idol: Feeling Randy

2010-02-05T14:45:00.001-08:00

So I was salaciously watching the ~~downfall of Western civilization~~ American Idol a few days ago.

Yes, tivoed.

CG returned from class so I paused so we could chat about our evening. We talked. We both looked back at the screen and chuckled.

Immediately the dialogue can to mind, ""Oh, Randy baby you make me randy! "

"Yo Dawg, I'm touched. I didn't know you cared."

Who needs Ellen when we've got man love. Heh!

So You Say It's Your Birthday

2010-02-05T09:09:00.000-08:00

Yep, CG's birthday has materialized and then {poof} it's gone.

Yep, he's older than dirt, but since I am a year the wiser, that makes me older than {insert word of choice}.

Yep, still had swim practices for us and MBA classes for him on his birthday.

Our gift to him?

CG hates buffets. Hates.

The worst offender? Old Country Buffet.

I have to agree. It's crap. Cheap food, cheap proteins, refined sugar, and lots of oil.

My kids with healthy swimmers' appetites? Love it. Love!

So our gift to him? We went to Old Country Buffet on his birthday while he was at school.

Hee!

He did not have to eat one bowl of soft serve. Not one scoop of mashed potatoes from a mix and curdled brown gravy. Not one gristly piece of steak nor one bite of oily fried chicken.

See? I've got his back. I'll take one for the team. He got some of my deliciously spicy homemade jambalaya leftovers.

When he came home?

He was surprised with nothing but red velvet cupcakes, a newly bound, indexed and plastic protected binder of all his favorite recipes (Note: the industrial strength binder is 5 inches thick and already full), and a family membership to The Mountaineers Club so he can do more snow camping and I don't have to go with him until it's a decent time... like summer.

See? I'm a champ. Taking it for the team.

Happy birthday, sweet cakes!

Check out PB above.

She knows the truth.

Being one year older blows!

But at least we got each other unless you decide you want to go snow camping again and then buddy?

You are on your own!

Me and snow?

We get along while skiing. We got along while sledding. I'll even make a snow man, but honey there's no need to camp in it.

No need.

Keep dreaming if you ever think this Scout will ever enjoy snow like you do.

Heh.

Love you!

Yes, My Dog Eats Better than Your Kid!

2010-02-03T11:50:00.000-08:00

Last week's post was what I feed my kids.

This week, it's all about the dog.

Yes, to the left is my pup's food. I bet you thought it was a delicious salad, eh?

When Grendel died, I had already started a habit of feeding my dogs better, healthier food to try to counteract the cancer.

I don't know if it helped their health, but they loved it, Seb still loves it and it made my heart feel better.

So without further ado (and yes, I know some of you will think I am crazy to feed my pup better than some people feed their kids), Seb's repast today:

Start with some spinach, left over pre-cooked red peppers, and broccoli.

Not too much broccoli. No more than 10 percent of daily intake. Never onions. Sometimes sweet potatoes and apples.

Chop those babies up.

I still use a lamb and rice canned food base, shred some raw carrots and throw it in.

Add in above peppers, spinach, and broccoli.

Top with some delightful cottage cheese.

Doesn't it look delicious?

Mix it up.

Seb waits patiently, sitting as close as possible as soon as he sees the carrots being shredded.

He loves carrots!!

Ooooh, yays! Fewd for me!

Nom, nom

Snorfle, chomp

30 seconds later? All Gone!

Rape By Bureaucracy: No Thanks!

2010-01-29T07:56:00.000-08:00

Did you know in the Canadian Health care system, you can be raped?

Yes, raped by a bureaucracy.

Raped by a group of medical students performing multiple pelvic exams without your knowledge or consent while you are unconscious?

I am considering a hysterectomy right now because of my many women's bits issues.

Thank God in the U.S.

I would never, ever consider this okay for me to be a guinea pig after a major surgery. In fact, it would deter me from getting the medically necessary help and surgery I need.

In my opinion, this is rape. Pure and simple.

Rape by bureaucracy.

Sickening.

It must stop now.

Furthermore, it is yet one more reason I do not want governmental bureaucracies involved in the U.S. health care system. Canada is often cited as an example as it is and lauded by President Obama supporters.

If this is what it means, NO THANK YOU!

I am still absolutely shocked by this and now am going to ask my doctor some more probing questions to feel sure this wouldn’t happen to me.

Feeling paranoid now because as a logical woman, I never would have thought this would be possible in a Western, 1st world government in modern society.

Please go tell the Canadian health care system this is not okay. Please?

Please.

Lunch Boxes and Unfortunate Old Friend Visits

2010-01-28T08:13:00.000-08:00

From 1st grade on, our kids have always prepared their own lunches. They have a lot of freedom as long as there is a fruit and a vegetable, very little junk, and a very infrequent treat. Infrequent meaning maybe once a month.

I still occasional surprise them with the treat of a note on a napkin, but the lunch (and breakfast on week-days) is their responsibility.

They microwave ravioli and scoop them into thermoses. All. By. Themselves.

They prepare pastrami sandwiches, spread mustard and mayo, and yes, rinse and slice tomato, onion, and lettuce to go on it. Avocados, fresh pre-washed spinach, and onions often make the cut as well.

Every once in a while, if they are in a rut, I make a "menu" of lunches for the week. They choose one for each day.

It reminds them that cottage cheese and peaches works.

They remember that whole wheat wraps and hummus are just as good as peanut butter and jelly.

They grow bold with the freedom to make their own tuna salad with nuts and dried cranberries being a favorite.

They grab handfuls of smoked almonds or grape tomatoes as a snack.

Lox on a bagel sandwich? Why not!

They are chided to bring a drink--usually a water bottle from home or sometimes a water bottle with milk and chocolate syrup--all three of them somehow always forget hydration.

CG and I have always felt we are setting them up for independence and good eating habits. They don't eat the froot snacks and rice crispy treats and chips and cookies and fake cheesy crackers--the pre-packed crap of their generation. There is little to no artificial colors or preservatives. Mostly whole foods. Always whole grain/100% whole wheat breads. The closest we get to pre-packed are the bags of pre-sliced apples and string cheeses which make preparation faster.

Yes, an occasional slice of leftover birthday cake makes it into the boxes, but so does fresh salsa (PB's favorite) replete with tomato, cilantro, lime and onions as salad dressing over a tupper of pre-washed spring greens mix and slices of yellow peppers (Yes, from Costco: Hee!).

No go-gurts here. They instead peel the whole carrot, find the plain yogurt and add granola, throw the handful of dried blueberries in a Ziploc, and yes, even spread peanut butter on crackers if they want something that looks like the pre-packaged junk of their peers.

And, when given choices?

Those choices make them less picky-not that they ever were allowed to be in this family.

They still end up eating all of the choices offered, but on their time line and in the meanwhile they realize Trader Joe's curried naan tastes delicious as a substitute for sandwich bread.

They also get the thrill of choice since we rarely let them choose the junk offered in the school hot lunch menu.

Don't get me wrong. We are no food nazis. They are allowed candy. We go back and forth with organic foods. We have pizza once a week from Papa Murphy's. Annie's Macaroni is a staple. Ice cream (Only the Good Stuff) is a staple in this house.

However, I think our kids have also developed quite a mature palate that can only do them well once they hit college years and adulthood.

They fight over the left overs from dinner the night before of Tikka Masala with huge chunks of onion, broccoli, red peppers, and carrots with basmati rice to be put in their thermoses.

They gladly eat whatever is put in front of them when they are guests at friends' homes as opposed to the wrinkled noses we often have over here.

However, there is yet one thing they have still yet to learn.

CG walked by the kitchen today whilst little mouths chatted and little fingers prepared.

There was a pungent odor.

A fetid, most foul odor.

Have I mentioned my sense of smell has been compromised decades ago? I raised my eyebrow over at the kitchen table as a he made gagging noises.

Time to investigate, me thinks...

Well, turns out cleaning out the washable insert/liner in their lunch box had been a duty neglected.

Turns out PB had spilled some peach juice on the removable zip out liner of her lunchbox weeks ago.

Turns out there was orange, green, and yes, our old friend BLACK mold growing in the fabric portion of the zipper.

Nasty!

Bleach, soap, scrub, and repeat and it was all better.

On a whim, I checked out Li'l Man's lunch box. Ahh...seems he was growing a colony of his own.

Bleach, soap, scrub, and repeat...

Okay, okay, I get down off my high horse. Perhaps they have some learning to do when it comes to cleanliness and food preparation:

Mainly? Mold where one's Nutella goes is not a best practice.

Note to Myself: Pack bleach spray in kid's suitcase when they go off to university.

Sigh.

Dear Costco: With Love From Your #1 Stalker (And Loyal Customer)

2010-01-26T13:42:00.000-08:00

As some of you know ~~well all of you would know if you went through and read every post like good little readers~~, I have this addiction.

An addiction for a deal.

A discount.

An addiction for the bulk.

I want it all.

An addiction to keeping my shelves full with teenage swimmers.

I call it Costco.

Yep, Costco. Well Costco and blogging.

Yep, we go way back. Yes, way back. No, even further than that!

I am Costco's best cheerleader and would do the splits if I could and honestly at my most nimble, flexy teenagerhood, I still couldn't ever do the splits which has been one of my life's greatest disappointments. Ask CG. He's disappointed too! And jealous...

He is so totally jealous of the time I spend with my economically-sound-executive -membership-has-it's-privileges-shelves-and-shelves-of-Skippy-peanut-butter-Take-me-Now Costco lovah.

Yep, suffice it to say I got a $202 bonus from Costco one year alone. I am not too proud. I'll take their money.

But? Flabbering jaywookles, people.

That means I spent $20,200 American dollars my hard working CG earned to buy 25 lb. bags of flour, vats of Salsa Fresca, 2-packs of tortellini, flats of black beans, gadzillion gallons of milk and cheerios, two special sized packs of {squee} NUTELLA, and, oh the humanity, crates and crates of bananas.

I am a Costco whore and proud of it.

But this year, there is something else I am coveting.

Yes, my friends, I want to go to BlogHer, but the credit cards are carrying a heavy load from CG's MBA tuition bills (even the purty matchy green one I put on my minty pony) and the mortgage must be paid.

I wouldn't feel right adding more to our debt load when my addiction helped get us here in the first place.

So I'm a-hunting me a sponsor.

I know. I know. We bloggers are supposed to have pride and blog with credibility. Yada yada.

People? This is me being super credible that I lurve me some Costco, I live 10 minutes from Costco global headquarters, and for once I want a little something back for telling the world of my adoration.

No, they have not paid me to say that, but wouldn't it be nice if they would? Hee!

A little itch.

A little scratch.

You know maybe a flight and hotel room through your concierge travel service to Blogher so I can call to my fellow Mommy beeches and astound them with your bounty.

Come on! I bought a flat screen TV and 3 mattress sets from you.

{Patting said mattress} Come give this mama a little sumpin', sumpin'.

I'll be waiting.

Waiting...

WAITING!

In the meantime, my friends, can you help me get the word out, pretty please?

Twitter, Stumble, Digg, whatever is your deal so #Costco or is it @Costco hears me?

Leave a comment, twitter this up or link on your best Costco story and one of you readers is going to get a special super duper treat.

Something from...oh...where should I get it?

Oh, yes, something rather special from Costco courtesy of me and my minty green pony. So I beg of you: Start commenting, fluttering, squawking, and tweeting. We want to get Costco's attention, m'kay?

More details coming soon. As for Costco? You-hoo, Costco? You listening?

Costco, {country twang}, I can't quit you.

Love, Your #1 Costco Stalker.

Heh!

I AM a Survivor: Slumber Parties are of The Devil

2010-01-25T11:46:00.000-08:00

Yes, my friends. I survived.

I survived a slumber party of seven 8 year boys pepped up on Mountain Dew, Coca-Cola, and M&Ms.

Yes, the objective with the requested Dew (I have never actually bought or allowed my kids to have it before) was to stay up all night. I just didn't for a minute think it would work.

Yep, {A shell-shocked Scout nods her wobbly head} definitely, definitely a bad call.

Source: Mountain Dew

This party included staying up to 3 AM only to wake up to 6 AM to a brawl, punches thrown, and tears. Only one slightly bent pair of eye glasses were permanently damaged.

Well, that and my ability to focus because my friends? Three hours is not enough for Scout. I am too old.

So two kids never slept. Most only had two measly hours sleep.

Note to self: Serving Costco packs of bacon, sausage, and pancakes thereby inducing into food coma works only slightly to calm the beasts until 11 AM.

Yes, you read that correctly. The party ended at 11 AM because silly me thought they would sleep in.

Maybe I should have harshed their caffeine buzz with this in the first place:

Source: Diet Coke with Bacon

One good call I made? Paying my older kids $$ to supervise while I slept 3-6 AM?

Priceless.

They woke me up at 6 AM only to break up the brawl. Money well spent.

So at 6 AM, all up and scrabbling, on went the Mom entertaining hat again. Sigh. Must remember this next time I let the kids talk me into slumber parties.

So, the aftermath? Li'l Man slept 19 hours straight. Now that's more like it.

Sadly, Scout also made another bad call.

As carpool coordinator for both kids swim team groups, she scheduled herself to drive both carpools round trip on three hours of sleep a scant couple of hours after the party was over.

No time for a nap.

In driving rain, I drove from 3-8 yesterday.

Non-stop.

Very. Bad. Call.

Thank gawd for coffee. Maybe I should have guzzled some Dew.

Slumber parties are of the devil too!

Eight

2010-01-23T07:58:00.001-08:00

I cannot believe my baby is eight. He still has that baby hold over me though because he convinced me to have a slumber party with eight 7-8 year olds staying the night. For most of them, this will be their first slumber party ever.

A slumber party! Something I swore I would never do again.

Cross your fingers for me. It may take weeks to recover...if I survive!

Only for you, Li'l Man. Only for you! I love you forever.

I Call Bullshit: OctoMom in a Bikini

2010-01-21T14:33:00.000-08:00

This out from TMZ and Star Magazine:

One year later, the she-beast claims no plastic surgery and no stretch marks from having a litter.

Ahem. She claims never to have had plastic surgery.

She might as well claim to be Michael Jackson's long lost twin with her denials.

{eyebrow raise}

Just curious: Do you believe her?

More pictures here.

Snort.

Hoping for a Hurricane

2010-01-20T09:00:00.001-08:00

Whoop, my friends

Whoop! Times...they are a-changing.

I smell discontent in the air.

Yes, my friends, an all important 41st vote against Health Care Travesty.

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of Obama's inauguration. Does anyone feel better off this year than the last?

I think foremost that this is a message to President Obama that despite ramming his health care down our throats, "It's the economy, stupid."

I just hope the Republican party doesn't mess it up by ramming their religious crap and moral proselytizing in public law down our throats.

Republicans are the party of less government. Live and let live.

Be the party of Ronald Reagan once more.

Republicans, get out of the bedroom and stop worry about gay marriage. Let them be. Again, it's the economy, stupid.

We want Wall Street banking bonuses subsidized by our tax paying dollars to stop.

We want tax AND SPEND cuts. We have to balance our checkbooks. So should Washington.

We do not want to leave our children and grandchildren a legacy of insurmountable debt to bail out the likes of Chrysler which will probably fail anyway.

We want terrorists treated like terrorists--not civilian criminals--and we want our government to do it's job and prevent such terrorists from reaching our soil despite terrorist's father's warnings and CIA intelligence.

Yes, the winds are changing. This mommy is hoping for a hurricane to come mid-term elections.

_________________________________________________________
You know I don't talk about politics often... however every once in a while I get fired up. Heh! I would love your comments. This blog has always welcomed differing ideas. I respect differing opinions and see it as an integral part of the democratic process. Besides life would be boring if we all thought the same. Just keep it respectful...

Blogging Distractions & The Devil

2010-01-14T11:23:00.001-08:00

Heh, I thought it was blogging, not Satan that was distracting me from making dinner...

....and from taking down the Christmas tree that is still up...

....and from finishing the yearbooks pages I volunteered to do for the kids' school yearbook...

....and unpacking boxes in my garage from two moves and ten years ago.

Yep, blogging is distracting me from life again, but that's okay because you know what?

Keep coming back now, you hear!

Yes, my friends, as my kids' old pediatrician from Louisiana would say in his thick accent that blogging like unnecessary antibiotics and cough suppressants that parents still want for their kids:

"Aarhhh-re from the deeevill."

Hee!