Factory is Closed!

I recently made a very important, albeit obvious, decision in my life… no more babies.  And on Monday, I took action on that decision.  I burned down the factory and tore up the roads.  Or in medical terms, I had laser ablation surgery and a tubal ligation. 

The laser ablation burns the inside of factory so there will be no more monthly visitors.  (I know… awesome, eh?)

And if that wasn’t enough, tying the tubes make it so the eggs can’t get to the old baby factory – unless they have some very advanced GPS device and find another path.  I can just hear the little ovarian Garmin now saying “recalculating” in her condescending little voice.  But even if those little eggs manage to get to the factory, there will be no place for them to park. 

So, no little sons to ride motorcycles with for Hubs, no more little brothers or sisters for the older ones to pester, no more cribs, no more bottles, no more diapers.  Well, all of this is true until I become a Grandma.  But surely I have years until that happens (right, Boog?).  AND no more hormones for mom!

I even asked Hubs at the hospital if he wanted to reconsider the possibility of having any more kids in the future.  Without hesitation, he said no.  He recommended that if we ever changed our mind (yeah, right), we could adopt.  Good answer, Hubs.

The only scary thing is the “no hormones” part.  Although I’m glad to be going purely natural now… I also have nothing to blame any moodiness, weight gain, facial blemishes, or even chin hairs.  It’s just all me. 

Scary.

A little late…

First and foremost, Merry Christmas to all of my readers!  I’m sorry I neglected to wish it to on Christmas.  But I think I was able to see most, if not all, of my readers in person anyhow.

It’s been a terribly busy holiday season.  I had a neighborhood party, work party, family party… not to mention shopping, decorating and cleaning.  Whew… I’m pooped. 

I hope everyone had a wonderful Christmas and I hope that Santa brought you everything you wished for!

Hoppy Holidays!

Please Rise…

So, Weasel was cited for skipping school in October (I know… things have changed a great deal from I was a kid). He received a ticket from the police officer and yesterday was our court date.

We are in there with a bunch of other juveniles; most of them were there for assault or possession of drugs or the like. Great bunch of kiddos, obviously. One of them even claimed she was late because her parole officer didn’t give her the appointment information. Wow, really?

I did not feel like my son’s being caught walking onto campus after skipping school was in the same league as these thugs, but oh well. We waited for an inordinate amount of time for our case to be called. Apparently, they take the repeat offenders first. You would think they would want the worst offenders to have to wait the longest, adding to their pain. But I suppose that just makes too much sense.

The prosecutor told us that the fine for the violation was $69. Weasel had the option of pleading guilty and paying the fine; pleading no contest and going to a class, doing community service AND paying the $69 fine; or go to a jury trial. Um… we’ll just take the fine.

When we finally talked to the judge (about 1 ½ hours into our ordeal), she gave Weasel quite the tongue-lashing. She was downright scary and rude as far as I’m concerned. All of this was excessive considering his offense.  He just skipped a class… and it was GYM! This seems like more of a parental issue anyhow. And she didn’t even seem to notice how handsome or charming Weasel was. To top it all off, she actually raised our fine to $70. Thanks, Your Honor.

I do not think her approach of making the process scary enough to keep Weasel in school was very effective. I left there just angry at the system, not awed by it.

Besides, I think that Weasel is actually more scared of his Mom.

As it should be.

Flakes in Austin

Yes, there are supposed to be flakes in Austin today.  Not just your typical Austin Weird, but actual flakes of snow… which is weird all by itself. 

It has been reported lately that we should expect snow this morning.  I will admit that it is cold outside, but snow?  I can only remember a handful of times that it has actually snowed in Austin.  Even if there are flakes in the air, they rarely make it to the ground and accumulate. 

And really, why couldn’t it have snowed early this morning so that I could have stayed in bed and “worked from home” instead?  Doesn’t Mother Nature know that Austinites freak out when there is anything on the ground.

You can tell by the local news coverage that even the mere possibility of snow is the only thing newsworthy right now.  Even if they discovered a cure for cancer, the snow forecast would still be the lead story.

So, cross your fingers.  If it does indeed snow, I’m making a itty-bitty snowman!  Pictures to be posted later.  Bring on the hot chocolate!

Big Time Now!

I am now officially in the big leagues.  I have my own domain name:  www.viewfromthelilypad.com

Oh yes, I’m big time now. 

Bow accordingly. 

A Case of Mistaken Identity

Over the weekend, we started decorating the house for Christmas. Pumpkin and Cookie are still young and Christmas holds magic, wonder and pretty lights everywhere. Driving anywhere around this time of the year elicits all sorts of oohs and ahhs from the backseat as they see lights on houses and other holiday décor. It’s so much fun to see them get excited.

In the midst of all this decorating, I began setting up the nativity scene. Cookie was watching me very intently as I carefully arranged the three kings, the shepherd and the animals, and Mary and Joseph surrounding Baby Jesus. Then, I placed the Angel at the back and Cookie gasps! She is so excited and shouts out, “It’s Tinkerbell!”

Really? No such reaction about the tree and all the ornaments, the lights on the house that Daddy and Weasel put up, or even the Santa Claus stuff everywhere? Cookie goes bonkers over the “fairy” in the nativity scene.

Somehow, Hark! The Herald Tinkerbell Sings just doesn’t have the same feeling.

Happy Thanksgiving from the Lily Pad!

Girl-Card

When I was a little girl, I was the boy my father never had. I was always the one helping him work on the cars, fetching tools and holding the flashlight. Somewhere along the way, I developed the notion that I could do anything. If Daddy could do it, surely I could. I’m much smarter and much prettier than that man. :)

No really…

Yesterday, Hubs noticed my tire was flat before he left for work. He kindly aired it up and promised to look at it that evening. I made it to work just fine, but when I got out of the car I realized the tire was making a strong hissing sound. Not a good sign. Seems I had run over a bolt at some point.

So I asked one of the strapping young heterosexual men at my office to change the tire. And I figured out the strangest thing… not everyone knows the most basic car tasks.

This young man couldn’t figure out how the jack worked. I just kept watching him fumble with it while I played my I’m-only-a-girl-and-I-don’t-know-how-to-do-this-stuff routine. After a while, I kindly suggested how he might do it.

Then, he was putting the jack in the wrong place. Really? I was stuck between still wanting to play my Girl-Card and being terrified that he was going to damage my car! So, I got out the book to look for suggestions… because I don’t know anything, remember?

Well, he fumbled with several other aspects of changing this tire. It was almost comical. I was sorry I asked him.

So, thanks Daddy, for letting me help you all those years. This young man apparently did not have the same experience. But it’s nice to know that if I had to, I could change a tire... and could probably figure out how to fix the transmission.

Of course, being a girl, I choose not to do these things. That’s one of the reasons I married Hubs, he can do these things just fine. Besides, if I started doing them now, I’d always be expected to do them. I don’t think so. I’ll hold onto my Girl-Card for a little longer.

Defining Points

I belong to this group of wonderful ladies. We get together at least once per month to drink, eat, drink, get some much needed socialization, and drink. The group can be lots of fun and there are many different personalities represented. We all have a great time together. We have been doing this regularly for about three years!

Well, in this group, I’m known as the BITCH! I have been given a sign to reflect this, and even a sash to commemorate my status (thanks, Dawn). I’m voted Bitch-of-the-Month nearly every month! But now I will use this forum to get the record straight!

So, let’s look at the definition:

bitch \ˈbich\: noun

1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals – okay, now I’m clearly not this type of bitch!

2a: a lewd or immoral woman – so, now I have to look up the definition of lewd to make sure I have it straight (evil, wicked, sexually unchaste, licentious). Nope… not me.

2b: a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse – now I guess this is the one they are thinking of when they use it to describe me. But I am not malicious, spiteful, although I can be overbearing… but always with a smile!

3 : something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant – like coming up with things to write about in a blog – again not me.

4: Complaint – Okay, this is what I’m doing right now.

I am not a BITCH as much as I am a SMARTASS. I have a quick wit and can usually come up with some remark to interject into a conversation. Some of these remarks are apparently not appreciated, but most at least find me humorous.

smart-ass \ˈsmärt-ˌas\, also smart aleck: adjective

a self-assertive person with pretensions to smartness or cleverness

Yea… now THAT’s me! Let’s keep it straight, people!

Please Excuse This Interruption

I have really enjoyed having this blog. It’s fun to vent about certain things, to laugh about certain things, or even to bitch about certain things. It’s just fun to share. And I think that some of the people that read it enjoy reading it. So, really, it’s a win-win situation.

 

EXCEPT, I get little to no feedback in the way of comments. So, I start to convince myself that no one is reading it. I might as well keep all of these observations in my head.

 

Then I stop posting for a few days, and I get lots of comments (on the telephone or in email) that I need to post again. And yesterday, Boog posted a comment that she was tired of not seeing a new post.

 

Well, here’s the deal, Readers. If you like what you read, you must post something. You can post a “ha” or “I read this one” or “you are an idiot” or anything. Otherwise, I have no way of knowing that anyone is reading anything.

 

Whew. Got that off my chest.

 

We now return you to your regular scheduled blog.

Confirm Your Confirmation

Over the weekend, we celebrated Pumpkin’s 5^th birthday with a little party at My Gym, a children’s fitness center. It was such fun. They do a great job at entertaining the kids and making the birthday girl feel special.

Everything was fine until I realized that the pizza I had ordered the previous day online had not been delivered. I quickly called the store, which had no record of the order. WHAT? I couldn’t believe it. I must have called the wrong store. But no… the guy assured me they would have delivered to our location.

I was so upset. I immediately boycotted that pizza chain and vowed never to return. I KNEW I placed the order. I KNEW I gave them my credit card and everything. I KNEW I didn’t make a mistake.

Hubs had to leave the party to run to the store to grab some food. He missed much of the festivities, including Pumpkin blowing out her candles. We were all upset. And someone was going to pay for this!

Well, upon my arrival at home, I went to the computer to pull my confirmation so that I could lodge a serious complaint. I figured we would have free pizza for a month! But, I found something else instead. I found the “submit” screen with an error message on top that our credit card information was not accepted. It seems I omitted a number when I entered the credit card information and my order was not processed. Um… oops.

All of this was my fault? I was the one that was going to pay? I did this? I should have known better. Clicking submit is not sufficient. You must get the confirmation!

And for all you reading this, Hubs is finding out that I was to blame as he reads my blog today. It was my fault that you missed so much of the party. And I’m so, so sorry. Please remember that For-Better-or-For-Worse vow you made.

In summation, always confirm your confirmation!

Secrets Told and Prayers Answered

Over the past weekend, the family and I spent the gorgeous autumn day at Gamma’s land in Lockhart, Texas. She was doing some improvements on her property and we didn’t want to miss the day outside.

Weasel and I were busy clearing some brush around some trees. I have some great pictures of my seemingly miserable and stoic son actually enjoying himself. Yes, he does still have a smile under that façade. It was a great, great day!

Well, in the midst of this wonderful outdoor day, I apparently lost my diamond pendant and necklace, which I wear 24/7. I freaked out! It was a very sentimental to me. Hubs had given it to me several years ago. I spent the next few hours walking around with my eyes glued to the ground. Surely, it has to be here somewhere. I kept visualizing myself finding it, but no such luck. I was so sad.

I had basically given up as it seemed just too daunting of a task to find a little gold trinket in all of the leaves and grass. We decided to borrow a metal detector the next day in the hopes that our luck would change. I was so scared that I would never see it again. But what else could I do? I just prayed to St. Anthony, the Patron Saint of Lost Things.

Well, when I got home and stripped to get into the shower, something falls out of my bra to the floor! I ran out of the bathroom (with my robe on, I might add) screaming for Hubs. He only hears me holler like that when I found a bug. And when he saw me with something clutched in my hand, he knew it was no bug. It was my pendant!

I still can’t believe that it was there all the time… in my bra! I guess I’m not the full C-cup that I thought I was. There seems to be a little more room in there for hiding! That seems to be the Secret that Victoria has been keeping from us all these years!

Thank you, St. Anthony. And thank you, Victoria.

Everything Changes Today

Today, I need to change my profile. I am no longer the mom of a four-year-old girl. Today, Pumpkin is FIVE! And we will be having a busy day this evening when we get home from work. According to her, everything changes today:

Now that she is five, she will ride her bicycle without training wheels. This is something she could do before, but felt more confident when Daddy put them back on her bike. She will do it all by herself tonight. Today, she is brave.

Now that she is five, she will not argue with her little sister anymore. She will be a grown-up and use her grown-up voice. She will not whine or pick on Cookie. Today, she is mature.

Now that she is five, she will help cook dinner every day. She wants to cook a whole meal for the family all by herself. Disregard the fact that she cannot quite read a recipe and hasn’t quite gotten the hang of fractions of a cup. Today, she is capable.

It seems even though she is now five, she hasn’t realized how much farther she has to go. There is plenty of time for her to be brave… to be mature… to be capable. (Although, between you and me, I would LOVE for those two girls to stop arguing).

Luckily, her mother is wise enough to know that she is only one day older than she was yesterday. But if she wants to think that everything changes today, go right ahead. I would love to be proven wrong.

Happy birthday, Pumpkin! Everything changed for me five years ago when you came into my life!

Would Have Loved to See Their Faces!

My older two kids haven’t much been into trick-or-treating for a few years. So, they hand out candy while Daddy and I take the little ones out in the neighborhood. This year, it was just Weasel handing out candy since Boog is busy doing the college thing. It was actually part of a punishment for Weasel, but I won’t go into the details of that here. Weasel handing out candy reminded us of some “tricks” he played a couple of years ago.

When Cookie was about one-year-old and eating solid foods, we attempted to feed her Vienna sausages. She would not eat them. Well, I had bought a case of them from Costco and had several cans left over. None of us would eat them, so they just collected dust in the pantry.

Weasel thought it would be funny to throw a can of Vienna sausages into the trick-or-treaters bags from time to time. He tried very hard to do it without them noticing. I think most of them went home without any suspicions.

We all had the image of these excited little kids still in their costumes dumping out their bag of loot on the living room floor. They are hoping that they got their favorites. When all of a sudden… what the heck? Is that a can of meat? Who in their right mind would hand out Vienna sausages to little kids?

Bwah-ha-ha!

Clothing Optional

I am not very good at weather. I don’t have a very good concept of what temperature is considered cold, which is hot, etc. I mean, some are obvious: 100 is hot, 20 is cold. It’s all the temps in between that get me a little confused.

You must understand that I grew up in a household of women, with one man: my dad. And his main jobs were to kill bugs, take out the trash and tell us whether we needed a jacket before we left the house. When I got married, I expected everything to be the same with my family, only now Hubs is supposed to have the answers.

Whether I have watched the weather the night before or not, I ask Hubs what the girls should wear. Is it jeans or shorts today? Long sleeves or short sleeves? Now this isn’t as common in the dead of winter or the peak summer months. It’s mostly Fall and Spring where I have the most problems. It’s just so iffy all the time.

I realized the other day that even though I am well into middle-age and seemingly a very intelligent woman, I still cannot accurate decide these things on my own. Hubs went into work early the other day and I was on my own. And what did I do? I sent my girls to school in shorts and short-sleeves because it was warm yesterday. I didn’t notice at first that my selection was wrong because we park in the garage and the weather isn’t very present in there! We didn’t set foot outside in the real weather until we got to daycare. Um… oops. It’s a little chilly outside. Oh right, cold front.

I fortunately had my jacket in my trunk. The girls were not so lucky. I felt like an absolute idiot. I’m supposed to be a good mom, but just can’t do it without my baby-daddy.

So, you are also in luck, Hubs… I will never be able to take care of the bugs and I’ll always need you to help me figure out what to wear. Probably when we are really old and shriveled up and the girls are fully capable adults, I’ll still need you to lay out my old-lady-wear.

PS: While looking for a picture to add to this post, I found a “what-to-wear-thermometer.” Now I know for a fact that I’m not the only one with this problem. This was probably invented by some husband or father that got tired of the questions!

Although, then I read that it was made for people with autism and other mental disabilities.

Whoops.

P.I.M.P.-ing

This is not a blog about regular pimps… it’s PIMP as in Pee In My Pants!

It seems that my four very large babies did a little damage upon entry into this world. All of my babies were between 8 and 10 pounds. Well, not really 10 pounds… she was 9 lbs 11 oz… so close enough!

I have spent the past couple of years trying to undo the damage with surgery and medication. My main symptom is I am sometimes entirely unable to keep from PIMP’ing. And I don’t know about you, but that is not a very adult thing to do. I have been able to train all four of my little monsters, but Mommy still has trouble making it. Next, I’ll need a diaper bag.

I was at Hobby Lobby this morning, quickly looking for party invitations for an upcoming birthday. Of course, these are way at the back of the store. Once there, my bladder suddenly and insistently said, “Excuse me, Darlin’, you have to go NOW!” No warning… NOW. I think this is what they lovingly call urgency. How quaint.

Okay, go NOW. Problem… it is taking every bit of effort to clinch my legs together in an effort to outsmart my body. I can’t move an inch. Not to mention, I’m so concerned that I look like I’m doing the potty-dance. There is no bathroom in sight and my car is seemingly 4 miles away. And then it happens… leakage. I just PIMP’d.

I quickly sit down in the hopes of stopping it… or for on-lookers, I just needed to check out the stuff on the bottom shelf. I now have no idea how much leakage is now showing. Oh, what I wouldn’t do for a jacket right now to wrap around and hide the damage.

Now, I make the long journey to the front of the store. I’m hoping that no one notices. I cringe every time I see someone, but I pretend that nothing is happening. I feel like it is showing on my face, but I am determined to get out of the store as nonchalant as possible. Really, how many people look at my butt anyhoo.

Well, I made it out to my car. And no one noticed, right?

Although, I keep imagining people talking to their friends saying, “you wouldn’t believe what I saw at Hobby Lobby this morning… a grown woman…” Ugh.

If I had it to do over again…

… I wouldn’t change a thing.

My life has sometimes been filled with turbulence. At times I felt that I was put on this planet to suffer.

I became a mom way before I planned to… at 21. At the time, the worst thing that ever happened to me. But that little “mistake” has become one of the most prideful events in my life. My Boog made me want to be a mom, which I really didn’t want to be before. And because of her, I now have three more kiddos. And my job as Mom is my favorite thing in the world… and one of the few things I feel I am truly good at doing.

I lost my husband in a car wreck, while seven months pregnant with my Weasel… at 23. At the time, the worst thing that ever happened to me. But that tragedy has helped me become the woman that I am today. I now feel like I can survive anything. I have raised two kids practically on my own. It is still arguably the worst thing that has ever happened to me, but the life I lead now is directly connected to that fateful moment nearly 17 years ago.

So, basically the reason I write this now is to share the lesson I have learned. Too often, bad things happen to good people. But those bad things, as well as the good, help carve us into the people we become. I don’t wish bad things on anyone, but I always try to remember that nothing stays the same for long.

When things are good, make sure you notice. Make sure you cherish those around you, and let them know you cherish them. Take all the good stuff in and etch the images inside your brain, because nothing stays the same for long. And when things are bad, make sure you just hold on. Hold on and focus on the images you etched earlier when things were good, because nothing stays the same for long.

In an old movie 1980 with George Burns called Oh God, Book II, the little girl asked why God lets bad things happen. He replied, “There can’t be good without bad, life without death, pleasure without pain. That’s the way it is. If I take sad away, happy has to go with it.”

And I would rather keep happy, even if I have to keep sad.

Sense versus Cents

My newly independent daughter, Boog, has been living on her own for about two months. When she moved out, she had a limited amount of funds in her bank account, and instructions to find a job. Well, as you may know, finding a job is not easy. And she was no exception.

Nothing could have been worse when I get a call from her hearing her quite upset. It seems her money is disappearing from her bank account. How can this be? She hasn’t bought anything since she has been there. She did break down and buy one pair of shoes, but those were from Payless and weren’t very expensive. And she bought one Texas A&M shirt, since she is sticking out like a sore thumb with little to no maroon in her closet. And she maybe went to the grocery store once or twice. How is it possible that she has no money? That’s ALL she bought!

She was able to give me her access codes for her bank account. And I immediately see the problem. She apparently needed to learn that five dollars plus five dollars plus eight dollars plus two dollars plus five dollars plus… equals a lot of money. She needed to stop going to Starbucks, stop eating at Sonic, and stop spending money in small increments. She had gone through nearly $500 buying little or nothing.

She needed to start living like a college student, and start eating like a college student. She needed to buy more ramen and peanut-butter-and-jelly! No eating out… ever. No frills. No mani-pedi’s. Nothing.

Well, it has been about two weeks and she is doing great. It seems she has learned her lesson. She has gotten a job as a hostess at a restaurant. She is eating lots of plain bagels and macaroni, and seemingly nothing else.

And it makes me feel that we made the right decision sending her out of the nest to fly on her own. She is already soaring. And since she learned this lesson so quickly, I can only imagine how far she’ll go over the next several years.

I’m very proud of my Boog.

Just Do What You Are Told

Having two batches of kids isn’t always easy.

I am trying to get the two little ones to learn how to be patient, learn how to pick up their toys, learn not to cry when things don’t go your way. I teach them to just respond, “Okay, Mommy” when they are told to do something.

And the very same time, I watch the two older ones learn how to be responsible, learn how to be self-sufficient, and learn not to cry when things don’t go your way. And I still expect to hear, “Okay, Mommy.”

Then, I realize that there is another person that needs to respond similarly. My Mother.

She was due to retire in July of 2008. She had been looking forward to it for probably the last twenty years, but especially the last four. She was counting down the days. However, when she finally became eligible for retirement, she postponed it for six months. Okay, fine, whatever. Then she postponed it again for a year! Okay, fine, whatever. She said that she would retire in early 2010. Okay, fine, whatever. However, now that 2010 is only a few months away, she is already sounding like she is going to delay it again. Okay, fine, whatev…. WAIT!!

Stop it! Enough is enough. Retire already!

I want to just sit back and let her make her own choices, but it’s not always easy when you don’t agree with those choices. I want to trust that she knows what she is doing, but I’m afraid of those consequences that she just doesn’t see. I want to just let her grow up and figure it out on her own. Do I need to put her in a home to get her to step back? Is that a “time-out” punishment for your parents?

It’s your turn, Mom. You’ve earned the right to retire. Just do what you are told. Okay, Mommy?

Or perhaps I need to learn not to cry when things don’t go my way. Nah.

Format C Colon

I have had a virus problem on my home computer for the past several months. I figured it was either caused by Boog downloading Lord knows what onto our computer, or Hubs visiting porn sites. :) Just kidding. I have no idea where we picked up the viruses. I just know that our antivirus programs were not able to rid it from our system. I suppose we should have updated our software more regularly, as recommended.

Well, enough is enough. After spending an inordinate amount of time trying to get rid of it on my own, I gave up. I remember when DOS was the operating system of the day and you could erase everything with seven little letters… format C: Well, surely we can do that with a Windows-based computer, right.

So I set about taking all of my pictures and other valuable files off the computer and putting them on an external drive. I was surprised that I didn’t really have too many valuable files… it was almost entirely pictures. So, moved everything in about ten minutes then started to reboot. Luckily, I still had all of the computers original disks so I had the Windows reinstall.

I went through all of the steps to request it to overwrite the hard drive… and then hit enter to continue. Scary. There was no turning back now. It took about 30 minutes or so to get it done. I could hear the little viruses screaming and running for their lives, the little bastards. I reinstalled Windows and a couple of other programs. The computer is now about 200 times faster than it was. It’s not a new computer, as the technology has changed so much, but it feels practically new. And this update cost me nothing!

This brings me to the question: Who the heck are these people that make viruses? It’s not like the viruses were stealing my identity. The viruses weren’t installing cameras or listening devices into my house. The viruses weren’t benefitting from anything, as far as I could tell. It seems their only purpose was to wreak havoc on my life. There should be more severe punishments for these people if and when they are caught. Couldn’t they be doing something more interesting like coming up with a virus that made your computer run faster? Couldn’t they make a virus that folded laundry? Or picked winning lottery numbers? Really, people, come up with something worthwhile. Really.

The Bully versus The Boss

My two little girls, Pumpkin and Cookie, are as different as two people could be. Pumpkin is four-years-old and thinks she is much older. Cookie is two-years-old and is the epitome of terrible.

Pumpkin is a very sweet little girl that always seems to be thinking about others… what others are doing, what others are supposed to be doing, what others think about her, etc. She is the BOSSY one. And she is not afraid to unleash her power on anyone. She can constantly be seen disciplining her 16-year-old brother. Her bossy nature is not always a bad thing. It also makes her a determined little girl. And she can be very helpful cooking dinner or doing chores. It never occurs to her that she is too small or too young. Heck, she is so upset that she can’t have her own cell phone. And did I mention she is FOUR!?!?!

Her two-year-old little sister, Cookie, is just a BULLY. It makes no difference to her what she is supposed to be doing, or what anyone is supposed to be doing. The rules don’t matter. Nothing matters as long as she gets what she wants. And she has learned to get whatever she wants. She manipulates all of us, cries, or just takes what she wants and runs. Not a drop of patience. Hardly asking nicely. She does say “please” while tilting her head and blinking her eyes (which is adorable), although I do not think there is a bit of sincerity.

What do you get when you mix a little girl bully with a little girl boss? You get arguments, fighting, screaming, crying, pouting… all the joys of parenthood. And my mother would be quick to point out that I am getting exactly what my sister and I gave to my parents years ago. I just can’t imagine I was ever so difficult… it was always my sister.

So, here are the little stinkers. Sure, they are cute, but it’s all a front to catch you off guard. Beware.

Intermission

Okay, it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’ve been going back and forth trying to decide if I even wanted to continue this blog. I want to be better about regularly posting to it, but can’t always find the time. Then I think… if I don’t post, they will forget about me and stop reading it. Argh!

 

So here I am again, trying to be more diligent.

One Flew Out of the Cuckoo's Nest

Well, Boog finally moved out of the house. She is now a Bryan/College Station resident. School starts next week for her. The move was relatively uneventful. She forgot all of her hanging clothes in her closet, so she should be back in a day or so to get those. And she got lost on the way to her new apartment. Hubs and I got there about an hour before they did, even though we left thirty minutes later... but we DID have a navigation system. She eventually made it and I know she will learn that path without the need of a map. Her apartment was cute... and pretty nice for a first place. We bought her a bunch of "getting started" stuff - like a broom and toilet paper and towels. So she should be all set. She had no food, but she has a car and money, so she should be able to figure that out. The grounds are actually pretty nicely landscaped and even has green grass (something I haven't seen in while with our Austin dry spell). We met two of her three roommates, who seem to be very nice. There was nothing too overtly weird about them. But these days, who knows? We left her on Saturday and I haven't talked to her since. I'm determined not to call her and just wait until she calls me. (hint-hint, Boog). Of course, if I don't hear from her soon, I'll break down. Letting go of your kids is easier than I would have thought, and harder than I would have thought at the same time. I didn't cry, she didn't cry... Pumpkin cried enough for all of us. But she is fine now and I don't think she even remembers that Boog is gone. It's not like she was around the house all the time anyhow. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Although I would bet the moment she sets eyes on Boog, Pumpkin is going to go ballistic! I just don't want it to go completely smooth... I still want to be needed! But that is something that I will have to get over. Because it seems that she is going to figure all of this out and I'll just be her mom, and not her caregiver. Well, isn't that the goal? I guess I'll try to be happy that I raised such a capable young lady. Now for her brother... ugh.

Lesson Learned

I learned a very important lesson a few nights ago. Do not drink and cook. It’s not as dangerous as drinking and driving, but you can still get hurt.

After enjoying a strong vodka tonic (thanks, CGMan), I hurried home to finish making stew for the family. All I had to do was cut up the carrots and throw them in. I got straight to work.

I was all excited about a new knife that was cutting through these carrots like they were made out of butter. And since I was in a hurry, it was perfect. When all of a sudden pain and blood everywhere. Boog’s first response was something like, “again, mom?” Apparently, I cut myself a lot when I am cooking.

Well, no cuts like this one. Hubs ran to get me a Band-Aid as I tried to stop the bleeding by squeezing it with a paper towel. I took off the paper towel a few moments later to get a peek at the damage and saw a gaping wound. I apparently sliced nearly half through my thumb. Yuck. Well, to heck with the stew or the Band-Aid, time to go to the ER.

I held it together in front of the kids, but once we were in the truck driving down the road, I started to get sick. I apparently passed out on my way to the ER from the pain, but pulled it together once again while we were there. And good thing too, as they made me wait three hours! Bastards. Although I think it was more because there were people more hurt ahead of me, rather than them just being mean to me. But still…

Well, I got three stitches and a prescription for pain medicine. We finally got home at nearly 11:00 at night. I wasn’t able to sleep because of the pain, and Hubs finally had to go get the prescription filled at about 1:00 a.m. Good husband.

It’s been a couple of days now and I’ve learned how to wash my hair without my thumb, how to button my pants without my thumb, and how to many other things without my thumb. It’s amazing how much we use our opposable thumb. How do monkeys live like this everyday?

It still hurts, but is more tolerable now. I still don’t think the alcohol was factor in my injury. After all, the carrots were cut straight. I think it was more about my stupidity and rush to finish and a very sharp knife. Either way, I’m not allowed to use a knife again… at least for a little while. Do they sell chainmail gloves at Williams & Sonoma. I need to get me one of those.

Better Half

I have the best husband in the entire world. And I’m not exaggerating.

I have known my husband for about 20 years (more than half my life, as I’m not forty yet!) We met when he was in 8^th grade and I was a senior in high school. Don’t freak out… we weren’t dating then! That’s just when I met him. And I must say that I wasn’t all that impressed at the time. Perhaps it was the age difference. Perhaps it was the fact that he was skinnier than a bean-pole. (aside, what the heck is a bean-pole, anyhow?) And there was the fact that he was so annoying. We started dating many years later, when he was in his mid-twenties and I was pushing thirty! Yes, I was a cradle-robber… not quite a cougar by today’s standards.

Anyhow, I had a rough day yesterday. It wasn’t really “bad,” just extremely, extremely busy. When I got home, it all sort of crashed. You know that feeling when you finally get to sit down, and you just can’t move again. Well, that was me yesterday evening. I didn’t want to do anything! Oh… but no time for that, it’s time to cook dinner. But wait… my dear, dear husband made dinner for the family. Even though it was just pizza, it was fantastic pizza because I didn’t have to make it! And then, he got me a glass of wine and absolutely insisted I just sit on the couch and relax. And if that wasn’t enough, he gave me a wonderful foot rub! Later, he tucked me into bed and kissed me goodnight. I slept so wonderfully. And I woke up today feeling refreshed, ready to start my day, and ever-so-grateful to have a husband like mine.

Now when I say “better half,” I mean it literally. He really is the better half of our relationship. I try to be thoughtful and proactive to his needs, like a good wife should be, right? But he is so much better at figuring out what I need, than I am at figuring out what he needs. It may be because I’m a better complainer and can bitch with the best of them, so my needs are a little more vocal. Maybe. But this man does laundry every week, vacuums, fixes things, builds things, and even encourages me to come up with projects for him to tackle. He is in the process of building a flagstone patio in my backyard. And he is making me a backyard garden so I can attempt to compete with one of my dear friends and her beautiful vegetables and herbs. He just rarely tells me no. What more could a woman want in a husband!?!?

So now, what would I change about him? Well, I would like him to be fatter (and I’m working on it). I do not possess a supermodel body and sometimes feel like Jack Sprat’s wife. I would rather be the smaller one. That’s about all I can think of right now. Heck, I even love his mom! So I had a rough start to my adult life and had to deal with a few tragedies (story for another time). I feel like I’m being paid back now for all my turmoil with a wonderful husband for me to love and to love me.

I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank Hubs for being mine. Although it’s obvious why he fell in love with me (I’m fantastic), but I am honored that he chose me to spend the rest of his life with him. He has given me two gorgeous little girls, and has been a wonderful step-dad to my first batch. I wish there was some sort of awards program for husbands. If there was, I would nominate mine. In the meantime, this will have to do:

I love you!

Zip-A-Dee-Do-Dah

Last week was my wedding anniversary. Hubs and I have been married for seven years! I surprised him with a trip to Cypress Valley Canopy Tours for a zip line trek through the trees. We had enjoyed a zip line tour exactly seven years ago during our honeymoon to Costa Rica. This was my way of revisiting that wonderful trip to Central America. Probably the two best things we did down there was the zip-line tour and white-water rafting. And since there is a full-blown drought of biblical proportions in Texas right now, there isn’t much white water to be found. So, zip-line it is! I had actually stumbled across this place several months ago. I was terribly surprised there even was such a place nearby in the heart of Texas. I didn’t expect much, but figured it would be fun anyhow. Well, surprise… it was fantastic! We had a great time. The family that owns Cypress Valley Canopy Tours has done a great job of creating a tour that is nearly as exciting as the one in Costa Rica. The only real things that were missing would probably be too expensive to replicate… rainforest and volcano. Although, they might want to consider building a mountain, digging down to the mantle of the earth for some lava, and adding some tropical landscaping for a more realistic effect in the future. But it wasn’t too disappointing considering it was Texas, over 100 degrees and drier than a… than a… it was very dry. The guides were wonderful. They made the trek that much more fun. We actually had such a great time, we decided to come back again four days later with Boog and Weasel. They were not very exited, being teenagers and all, but they came anyhow. The only thing that went wrong was Weasel initially insisted on wearing jeans instead of shorts… um, no way, Son, get your shorts on. It's like 105 outside now. Once we were there, we had a fantastic time. Weasel even seemed to enjoy himself, which is like watching a polar bear enjoy a suntan... unnatural. He would catch himself having a good time and pull himself back to teen-mode. The guides were even more fun this time. We did an egg toss while balancing on a long bridge... Brian tossed to me and I caught it, I tossed to Boog and she caught it, and then she threw it into the trees, Weasel didn't have a chance... thanks, Boog. I highly recommend anyone nearby the time to visit this place. (ARGH...I have a video to post, but I'm having technical difficulty. I've posted it, but I have no idea if it will work for you

)

There was a Crooked Man, Who Wore a Crooked Smile

Crooked no more… Weasel got his braces off! He has been wearing them since 2005… that’s four years. I still can’t believe it took so long. He has been wearing them for approximately 25% of his entire life. His little sisters didn’t even know him without braces.

Here is what he looked like before braces. He was 12 years old. I know he is so glad I’m posting this picture. But really, who is reading my blog anyhoo?

Then poof… all of a sudden he looks so grown up. Ain’t he gorgeous?

I’m not even used to seeing him smile, being a teenage boy and all. So this picture is weird for me all by itself.

Pumpkin, his 4-year-old sister, thought he had something on his teeth. She didn’t realize that those things even came off his teeth. And I just can’t stop asking him to smile. Perhaps now it will become a little more second-nature, and he can stop being such a glum teenage boy. I doubt it. I think I have a few more years of agony.

Anyhow, I am very proud of his smile. And let me state that orthodontics is worth every single penny. I will make sure that my four kids have beautiful smiles. Obviously, their mom didn’t give them the straight-teeth-gene.

Two down… two to go!

Land of the Lost

Yesterday, I stumbled across something called the Doe Network. It is a bit morbid, but I was fascinated. This network is dedicated to discovering the identities of John/Jane Does found over the years. I had a vague recollection of hearing about something like this, but had no idea...

If you have time, read this article. It is an inspiring story of how this network came to be.

The sheer number of unidentified victims and missing persons out there is staggering. I just briefly scrolled down the John/Jane Does and saw page after page after page of unidentified people. There are several thousands. Many are victims of probable crimes, and some were found after more innocent events (car accidents and such). I just found the entire matter very, very sad.

The saddest thing that I realized was that many of these missing people and found people do not match. That means that there are more people out there that have not been found. And even worse, there are many people out there that have been found, but were not reported missing. Ugh.

Now, being the goofball I am, I decided to try to find a missing girl from Texas. So I put on my cape and spent about 45 minutes on the search. I did everything I could think of to find her. She did not appear to be one of the Jane Doe’s listed. So, I thought she must still be alive. I was actually giddy. I started checking Google for any entries for her. I even checked to make sure she didn’t have a Facebook page… she didn’t. All I could find was articles about how she went missing.

I’m an idiot. As if these people hadn’t done this already. Did I really think that I was going to find her – in 45 minutes? If she was just a runaway, do I really think she would have a Facebook page using her real name? Maybe she didn’t want to be found. Even as I type this, I roll my own eyes! I’m ridiculous.

Still, I think this is such a remarkable project and I wanted to share it with you. I wish I could help these poor people: both the living looking for the lost, and the lost who cannot speak for themselves.

Most poignant to me was the comment in the article: "The one real fear in life is not death -- the greatest monster of all is the unknown.”

The Presence of Sound vs. The Gift of Silence

Anyone that knows me will tell you that I’m not frequently described as a quiet person. On the contrary, I like to talk. Silence is usually very uncomfortable for me, so I’m constantly trying to fill that silence with anything. And since I’m not very good a bird calls or singing, I talk.

I am unable to ride in an elevator with another person without commenting on something… their hair, the weather, the elevator buttons, whatever. Waiting in line is another favorite of mine. Misery loves company, and I’m sure to comment on this to those around me. It’s amazing the different reactions you get from strangers when you spark a conversation. Most people seemed genuinely pleased with the interaction, and actually talk back. A few are a little taken aback and seem to want to run from you. Weird.

My two little girls, Pumpkin and Cookie, are already showing very strong signs of trying to keep up with their mother. They talk their Daddy’s ears off. Boog, who is 18-years-old, has the perfect combination of sharing and keeping quiet. However, my son Weasel, who is now 16-years-old, is the exact opposite of his mother.

He doesn’t talk… period. His verbal vocabulary consists of “’salright” and “that’s fine” and some sort of grunt when he shrugs. He has been a quiet guy forever. It’s quite frustrating for me. I want to hear about everything in his life, and he has nothing to share. Not only does he have the affliction of being a teenage boy, he also has a natural tendency to keep quiet. It’s a lethal combination.

In an attempt to figure out if there was anything physically or psychologically wrong with him, I took him to see a doctor. He had been diagnosed with Social Anxiety Disorder when he was about nine, which can be quite debilitating for him. But more recently, the real revelation came in the fact that this doctor diagnosed ME with talking too much! She said that I talked for him, which led him to retreat inside himself. What? Is that really a diagnosis? Is that really a problem?

I always thought that my outgoing personality and talkative nature was a good thing. It was something that always kept me in touch with my fellow man. It was the thing helped me make new friends. It has made me a smartass in the best sense of the word. And now, it’s made my son quiet?

I suppose it makes sense on paper. I talk, therefore he doesn’t. So, what does this mean? Did I create my own sort of Frankenstein monster? How can I live with myself? I damaged my baby boy by being too talkative.

Should I start being quiet now? My husband, I’m sure, would be quick to say yes to that question. But no such luck, Darlin’.

Anyone that knows me now would also not believe that I too was once a quiet young lady long ago. Yup, it’s true. So there is hope that he will grow out of it and be as talkative as his mother one day. It’s going to be getting louder around here over the next few years. Perhaps it’s time to invest in some industrial earplugs, Darlin’.

Within Legal Limits

I adore my mother-in-law. Unlike what is traditionally accepted, I would pick my MIL over most people on this planet. Quite often, I remind my husband that should our relationship not last, then I get his mother and he can have the house. Heck, there are parts of me that wonder if I married him just to be related to her and her family.

The best part of my MIL is that she seems to like me too! When I call her, I usually tell her it’s her favorite daughter-in-law (although I am the only one, which makes me the least favorite too). When she calls, I usually talk to her without even handing the phone to her son… followed by an “Oops, sorry, honey. Did you want to talk to your mom?” And whenever her son does something that irks me, she completely understands and even agrees with me from time to time, instead of blindly defending her offspring.

And her grandbabies… She loves those little girls so much, it’s amazing. Whenever they are around her, she is just laughing and laughing. We are sometimes concerned she will laugh herself into a heart attack. But so far, she has managed to stay conscious. She has the hardest time telling them no, to whatever they request. Although we are working on her to be a little more strict - no more Mountain Dew or Pepsi with their sugary snacks - no staying up to 11:00 p.m. when she babysits.

She is from a real Texas country family. Her family settled not far from Austin many years ago, like the mid 1800’s. She is number 9 out of 14 children! (ouch) And obviously, those children reproduced over the years. Hubs is grandchild number 31, and my two littlest ones are great-grandchildren number 49 and 55 of 58 (after a while, it’s just ludicrous to keep counting). One thing is for sure: Very Big Family! Hubs used to be afraid to date anyone in this part of town for fear that he might find out they were kin!

It is so great to get together with her family because everyone still shows up to the functions. They are a very close family. Even though Grandma and Grandpa have both passed on, all of those kids they created and most of their kids and even their kids’ kids still gather together. We see many of them Labor Day weekend and Memorial Day weekend and at Christmas. They actually have to rent a hall to celebrate Christmas. And I can’t forget to include all the baby showers, bridal showers, weddings, etc. It is the greatest feeling, being with all of those people and actually belonging.

It is so interesting to hear about their lives growing up... about how the boys slept on the porch of their tiny little house... how they would prepare meals for the entire clan… how they would work in the fields. This family is the type that people write television shows about.

And I’m so grateful to be a part of it. So I guess I’ll continue to attempt to keep my husband happy, since he is related by blood. And there probably isn’t a court in the land that would award me his family in the event of divorce. Ahem… you are the best husband in the world, Darlin’.

Technorati Tags: family

Is God Spitting on Us?

Last night, we had a big storm in Austin. It hasn’t rained in what seems like months. And it has been hot, hot, hot. I have lived in Texas all my life, but don’t remember a summer this hot. Although, I think I may say that every summer… but this summer it is the truth! And it’s not just hot, like in Phoenix. It is humid hot. It’s so hot that just looking outside makes you start sweating. And going outside makes you melt. Anyhoo, back to the rain. For days, it has been threatening to rain. The sky would get dark and it would smell like rain. But then it would rain about 5 miles north of Austin and 5 miles south. It felt like perhaps we did something wrong and God was just teasing us. Well, he made up for it last night. It was a gorgeous thunderstorm with rain jut pouring from the sky. And it was in the early evening, so we could still enjoy it. My husband put buckets out to catch the water (so he could water the plants, because this might be the last rain). It was so nice. Then, the lights went out. Oh no! There was a very loud clap of thunder with lightening that I think hit something about 100 feet outside my yard. I even went out to make sure nothing was on fire. Well, nothing was. The lights went out and stayed out, which is actually a bit unusual for us. They were out for about 1 ½ hours. And it was blissful! No TV, no X-box, no static noise… it was so nice. The only sounds were from the kids. And the little ones weren’t even scared (whew!). We just watched the rain. Then put the little girls to bed. It was so quiet in the neighborhood and it was getting so dark as the sun went down. I laughed when I told my husband that it felt like we were the last people on earth and man-eating zombies were approaching. Thank goodness we have that diesel! With nothing else to do, we played games! We attempted to remember how to play Farkle, but couldn’t get the rules straight. (I need my coach, Dawn). Then we played rummy, which I kicked some major butt. Then my son and I were about to start a game of chess… and blip, the lights came back on. Awwwww. But here’s the best thing, he still wanted to play chess with his mom. So I got a little bonding time with my anti-social teenage son. It was wonderful! However, I haven’t been able to beat my son in chess since he was about seven… and he beat me again. I no longer felt like we were being punished. I felt like it was some sort of reward! Thank you for forcing us to spend time as a family!

Carbon-Based Non-Humans

Along with my two batches of children, we also have two batches of animals... two dogs and two cats. I won't include the fish as they are more closely compared to décor than pets. Like the kiddos, the animals are complete opposites from one another. The dogs… Charlie and Sienna. Charlie is a 120-pound golden retriever; Sienna is a 40-pound dachshund/german-shepherd mix (I know, weird). Sienna is bundle of energy and constantly bouncing around, and she is my escape artist. Charlie is a little older and has a bad hip, so he is slower to move. When they play chase, it’s basically Sienna running as fast as she can in a figure-eight while Charlie stands in the middle of the crossroad waiting for her to zip by. He just reaches out to try to get her and doesn’t move his feet. I truly believe he thinks he will actually catch her one day using this method. He’s either smart enough to not try, or too stupid to realize his method isn’t working. I choose to believe he is smart. Now the cats… Sophie and Daphne. Sophie is the anti-social one, just a fat snob. Most people don’t even realize that we had that cat because she never really comes downstairs. She is Boog's cat and knows it. The rest of us are just annoyances to her. Whenever we see her downstairs, our first thought is something is wrong. Daphne is the complete opposite of Sophie. Daphne is a lovable, cuddly, purring kitty that cannot seem to get enough us. She is constantly following us around and sits either right next to us or right on top of us. She even sleeps between my pillow and my Hubs’ pillow. Even though I love her best (I’m not sure if you could tell), she seems to prefer Hubs. It’s probably because he is the primary caretaker of the animals, where I am more like the grandma. I love them all, but really just want to admire and cuddle with them without actually having any actual responsibility. He cleans up the pee from little accidents, feeds them every day, picks up dog poop in the backyard, takes them to the vet, etc. I am not sure what I would do without my zookeeper. It allows me to enjoy the animals without having to do much of anything. And I want to make sure that he knows how much it is appreciated. All of us humans in the house get to enjoy the non-humans thanks to his hard work. Thank you, Darlin'.

Not So Fast, Young Lady...

I spent the day yesterday getting my oldest daughter into college. That's her, on the right. We went to an Advising Day to help her figure out exactly what to take this Fall. We waited in line for about an hour and then we finally advanced... to the next line. Yeah, it took what seemed like forever. And whenever we ran into a wall, someone gave us a little tidbit of information that we needed to get. So, we pursued that little tidbit only to find out we were missing another little tidbit. After about six different tidbits, we finally got the big picture. We weren't missing anything. Ugh... thanks people.

So, we left her new campus to try to find her an apartment. This seems like such an easy task, until you actually start doing it. First of all, going to a college town means there are thousands of rooms for all of those students. That just means there are too many choices. After visiting about seven different complexes, we were able to settle on one.

Now my bright and beautiful daughter has a new home two hours away to move into next month. And then it hits me... move? new home? two hours away? what? This is my baby. Okay, she's 18 and has a nose piercing and an elephant tattoo. I guess she stopped

being my baby long ago. But even though I know it's time for her to grow up and start her life...And even though I can't wait to see what she becomes... And even though I know that she will do a great job... And even though there are three other kids that will be staying at home... I don't want to lose my girl. And what will those little sisters do without her. She's the one that paints their nails, and teaches them how to sing and dance. We'll find a way to make it without her everyday. I hope she comes home every weekend, especially if she is using her own gas money.

Now go load the dishwasher. And pick up your brother on your way home tomorrow. You're not gone yet, baby. Oh no, I'm losing my slave too.

Booga-booga-booga. I love you, Boog.

Man TV

My husband just loves Man Shows. I don't mean shows with scantily clad women jumping up and down on a trampoline. I don't even mean shows with a bunch of guys dressed in the same outfit throwing a ball. I mean shows like Build it Bigger or How Do They Do That? or Modern Marvels or whatever. I'm guessing that many of you women know what I'm talking about. It seems every time I'm not home, he is watching these shows. It is funny because I think he is actually thinking, "I can do that" when they are blowing up a structure or building a giant ship. To him, it's fascinating. To me, it's kind of interesting... for about ten minutes. Once I figure out what they are doing, I'm basically done watching. I just realized this is actually Mr. Rogers Neighborhood for grown men. Remember on Mr. Rogers, between him changing his shoes and talking to King Friday in the World of Make-Believe, they would show clips of factories making crayons and stuff. And the new King Friday is Peter Griffin. I suppose it is better than my dad. He DVR's Jag and NCIS and all those military shows... and watches them over and over and over again. It doesn't matter if he has seen the episode fifteen times. He is still surprised when they actually win the case! At least my husband's TV fetish might help him learn something in the meantime. And with any luck, we might be the only family in the neighborhood with a loop-d-loop steel coaster in the backyard. So you just keep watching, Sweetheart... watch and learn!

Leaping into the Abyss of Blogdom...

Well, it appears that my very first blog post isn’t on my blog at all. It’s on my dear friend's blog , Dawn in Austin… http://www.heiferyung.com/2009/07/letters-from-home.html. She has inspired me to start my own blog. Now I cannot guarantee that anything that I write will be enjoyable, but I can guarantee that it will be legible (thank you, keyboard). I name my blog “View from the Lily Pad” for one simple reason. I love frogs. Not real ones – I love inanimate frogs… like frog figurines, frog pictures, frog décor. I am not terribly fond of frog stuffed animals, at least not anymore. It seems that when you “love” something, people get you that thing for Christmas, birthdays, Mother’s days, Tuesdays, whatever. And I’ve accumulated way too may frog stuffed animals. I don’t even seem to buy frogs anymore, or at least that’s what I tell my husband. And speaking of my husband, he is a very forgiving sort of man. We have frogs in nearly every room in the house… even the Christmas tree has frog ornaments. We have frogs outside on the front porch and frogs on the back patio. I know he doesn’t like it too much, but he loves me enough to overlook them. So, let me be clear – this blog will NOT be about frogs. I plan for it to be more about my life and my observations of the people and events around me. I will do my best not to offend anyone, although sometimes that cannot be helped (note: that was my disclaimer) About me… let’s see… I feel like my life is relatively boring. Although when I think about it, it’s anything but. I’m a terribly busy mom of two batches of two kids. My kids are currently 18, 16, 4 and 2. Some people would call that four kids, but it really feels more like two batches. You just can’t describe having two kids driving their cars and two kids driving their Power Wheels at the same time. I have a wonderful husband. We have been married for about seven years and have not started to itch yet. My plan is to write every couple of days. I hope to get better at this as I go along. Please don’t give up on me!