Ways in which our children mirror us...

**Disclaimer: This entire post will reek of stereotypes and judgement...If you take issue with that, please wait for my next post. Also, please remember that these are MY views...my husband may have opposing views which he may air on HIS blog (if he ever develops one) or in my comments section. And, as always, I must make sure everyone knows that I love my family...ALL OF THEM, but sometimes I like one - and they all take their turn being that one - more (or less) than the others.

Boy, long disclaimer this time...Ok, I am finding that as my son gets older (he just turned 5 last week) that he is turning into quite a little man. I know this because his behavior is resembling my husband's more and more with each passing day. Now, don't get me wrong, I LOVE LOVE LOVE both my husband and my son, but they they occasionally both drive me nutso (come on, you all feel this way about your family...and for those of you who deny it, you are full of mud)...And I am noticing that the ways in which they are driving me nutso are becoming more and more alike all the time.





I will give you an example of what I mean. Here is a frequent conversation between my husband and I:

Me: HONEY, can you grab my black flip flops off of the floor of my closet?
Him: What?? (the selective hearing will be addressed later in the post)
Me: MY BLACK FLIP FLOPS
Him: Yeah, what about them?
ME: CAN YOU GRAB THEM?
Him: Where are they?
Me: ON THE FLOOR OF MY CLOSET
(By this time I could have had them, put them on and arrived at my destination)
Him: Ok
**MANY minutes pass**
Him (walking down the steps carrying a pair of brown shoes): These?
Me (huffy): NOOOOOOOO...forget it...I will get them
Him: Honey, you know I am no good at looking for things
My beloved and I have had this discussion many times before. His argument is always the same "Why do you keep asking me to look for things that you KNOW I am incapable of finding"? My answer is usually something to the effect of "I guess I keep holding out hope that you may someday actually come through for me and find what I asked for". I TRULY believe that he sees the item I ask for and brings me something else simply because he HOPES I will get disgusted and never ask him to go and get me anything ever again. Logical, right? Wrong...I wasn't born yesterday. I will ask until the day I die.




Here is a recent conversation with my son...see if you can find the similarities:

Me: #2 (I don't actually call him that, but I don't want you to know his real name...LOL), please come and get your shorts on. They are here in the living room.
#2: What?
Me: PLEASE COME AND GET YOUR SHORTS ON IN THE LIVING ROOM!
#2: What about my shorts?
Me: COME AND GET THEM ON
#2: Where are they?
Me: IN THE LI-VI-NG RO-OM (I speak in syllables sometimes hoping that he might understand a little easier...hasn't worked yet, but it at least lets him know I am near my breaking point)
#2: OK! (Slllooowwwlllyyy comes down the steps)
Me: Get them on!
#2: Where are they?
Me: Right there on the floor
#2: I don't see them
Me: #2...they are right THERE...RIGHT THERE...UNDER YOUR LEFT FOOT!!!!!
#2: Well, I didn't see them (in a tone that may indicate that it was MY fault that he didn't see them!)
Ok, do you see a theme? Really. It is amazing. I have another...actually I have a ton more similarities between my husband and his mini-me, but I will limit myself just the one you have already read.

Now, I need to say a few positive things about the men in my life as not to offend them OR give anyone the idea that I am not totally in love with them both.

Things my husband has taught my son that I am actually HAPPY about:
***To pee in the potty standing up (and actually hit the bowl)
***To take his plate to the sink
***To treat me with nothing but respect (BIG points for Daddy here)
***A complete understand of all things Star Wars and superheroes (of which I have no interest)
***The E-A-G-L-E-S chant which helped him learn to spell him name by putting his own letters to the same tune (he STILL can't just SPELL his name...he must CHANT his name)
***To respect his sisters and all women...another gooder (as my friend, Kate would say)
***The lyrics to Kung-Fu Fighting...HILARIOUS...He actually taught the girls too...they do a little trio thing where even speech-delayed #3 throws in her well-times "Hy-AHs"
The list is truly endless, but I thought I would throw a few out there and let you know that my boys are GREAT (even though they can't see when looking for something or hear when I speak directly to them). I love them!


Then there is my firstborn. She is MY girl. She is witty and loves to dance. She has a great sense of humor. She can chat with absolutely ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (even superheroes and Staw Wars). She has some of the best communication skills of anyone I have ever met. And she looooooves babies.

Now, let me tell you a bit about me. I am sometimes said to be witty and I LOVE to dance. You can decide for yourself if you think this blog is amusing. I can chat with ANYBODY about almost ANYTHING (except superheroes and Star Wars). I would say my ability to communicate is pretty stellar (I LOVE to talk). And I REALLY love babies. I have always loved babies. When I was younger I couldn't walk past a baby without making a scene. Mother's LOVED it.



I would entertain their little ones for as long as they would let me. As a mother myself I now understand what a blessing I was to those women. #1 is the same way. I can't tell you HOW many people tell me they wished they could have her because she is such a help. Well, they can't have her, but I have a few others at home that on some days I may be willing to part with! (Go back up and re-read the disclaimer if you are passing judgement!)


**Others have said that #1 and I both possess "diva-like" tendencies"...hence the shirts made for us for Christmas by a family member...Mine says DIVA and hers says PRINCESS***

A lot of people have also stated that they can see ME pouring out of my off-spring in this particular picture:



It is so strange to see yourself in someone else. I mean, #1 is SO much like me as a child. I was VERY VERY talkative...ummmm, yeah, not much different than now really. The other day I talked to my Hair Wizards mom(who hangs out in the shop) sooooo much while getting my hair done that she finally, rather abruptly, said "Well, I have to run to Wal-Mart for that thing"...I think I ran her off. Thank God it was only Hair Wizard's mom and not another customer. My talking may actually be bad for business. Maybe I need to address that lesson with #1...save her some trouble. Regardless, she is my girl...And unlike a lot of people who are very much alike, we get along just fine...but remember, she is 7...we can talk again when she is 13.

And then there is little #3. She has managed to pull personality traits from Dave and I both...but, really, she is most like my mother.



My mom is a coffee drinker. BIGTIME. And it isn't a caffeine addiction. She is addicted to DECAF coffee. Guess who else is addicted? Yep, #3. The child can't even begin her morning without coffee in the old sippy cup (Note: Here is a warning - If you put coffee in a sippy cup and it is too hot, the pressure makes it SPRAY out of the spill-proof spout...I know this from experience). I get A LOT of strange (read: judgemental) looks from people when they see #3 with her little Starbucks cup filled with java. Truly...it's ok.

Regardless, they are two peas in a pod, my mom and #3. Along with being a coffee addict, my mother is a clean-FREAK. I call her a freak (in the best possible sense of the word) because her level of cleanliness is quite foreign and a bit scary to me. Sometimes when I don't put things right where they belong I can still hear her voice from my childhood (ok, AND adulthood) saying "There is a place for everything and everything in its place". UGH! Anyway, it is a joke with my dad and Dave and I that we can always tell when we've done something wrong because my mom gives us the "Grandma huffy breath". She uses it frequently when we don't put our dishes in the dishwasher at her house...Huffy breath...SLAM the dish into the dishwasher...mutter...Huffy Breath. Well, thanks to my dear mother, a certain 2 year old now gives ME the huffy breath!! That's right...she gives HER OWN MOTHER the huffy breath!

Just the other night we were eating ice cream (the kids ate theirs in the kitchen, but being the "server" I ate mine in the living room while we watched a family show). I finished and sat my bowl on the floor below the couch (I was GOING to take it to the sink at the next commercial break...I SWEAR). No joke, the child looked over, gave me the Grandma huffy breath, slid off the couch, picked up the bowl, put it in the sink, climbed back on the couch, looked over and gave me the SECOND huffy breath! UNBELIEVABLE!!



Another example: My parents have chocolate brown carpet in their living room (something only people without small children could have). She vacuums almost obsessvely, but it is what happens IN-BETWEEN vacuuming sessions that is really key here. EVERY TIME (I kid you not) she passes through that room she bends over into this "stooped" position (bending mostly at the waist, hiney in the air) and brushes her hand across the carpet gathering "loose fuzzies" to throw away. There is a whole technique to it: Brush back and forth 4 times with a flat palm and the pick up with only the fingertips...take a little step...repeat. And, having witnessed this action so often my little obsessive-compulsive spawn now walks around and gathers "loose fuzzies" off of our carpet as well (she has her work cut out for her, let me tell you). She walks in the same hunched-over manner which causes me concern for her posture. It is really incredible how well she mimics the act.

But, finally, after two of her own children and her first two grandchildren my mother has FINALLY found someone who not only understands, but shares, her obsession. Way to go, Mom.

And, as I mentioned before, even though #3 closely resembles my mother, see if you can figure out how she most resembles me from the following pictures:

ME:





#3:






Yep, I am THAT mom (and apparently so was my own mother) who takes photos of her tantruming children.

So, as my children get older, I know that they will become more of their own person with their own ideas, but for now I take pride in knowing that they must be absorbing SOMETHING from their parents and grandparents even if it isn't what we say and do, but rather HOW we say and do it!

The Good Old Days...

This is not going to be one of my normal sarcastic/witty/crazy/amusing posts. Tonight I am just going to use this platform to talk about the past for a moment.

I had a WONDERFUL childhood...picture the old Leave-It-To-Beaver kinda stuff (without the apron and I was a girl and the Beav was a boy, obviously). But the overall premise was the same...the all-American family of 4...I had an older brother named Mike. My mom stayed home with us while my dad headed out the door to work before dawn every morning swinging his lunchbox at his side. We ate dinner as a family and Mike played baseball where we all went and watched every game. I had pigtails and a bit of an attitude. Mike was happy-go-lucky and, even then, quick with a really cheesy joke. We played for hours outside together because we lived out in the country and mostly only had each other to to play with.








***THIS IS EXACTLY HOW #3 LOOKS AT #2...SHE WORSHIPS HIM...





Mike died 9 years ago of Cystic Fibrosis at the ripe old age of 27. Funny thing about him having that disease...CF is a pretty all-consuming life-altering illness...there are treatments, pills and various other daily rituals that someone afflicted with the disease does that others do not. But, the funny thing is that it DIDN'T consume us...At least that is not MY memory. My childhood memories consisted of vacations (we took one EVERY year even if it was a long weekend somewhere because we really didn't have the money to spend on anything elaborate). It's just what my parents did...and I am so grateful. My childhood memories consist of Sunday drives...VERY LONG Sunday drives in a car that we called the "Blue Goose"...inevitably we would get lost on one of my dad's "shortcuts" and when we finally reached civilization again my parents would buy us ice cream. My childhood memories consist of going to my uncle's cabin for wood cutting weekend...where else can you get a big group of people together to do hard work and still create amazingly fun memories taking walks, playing cards and fishing. My memories consist of growing up in a happy home on 14 acres of wooded land where we would go hiking and sledding. We would bike and pick berries off of bushes and eat them right away without washing them first (gasp). My memories are of my brother who I worshipped most of the time and drove crazy all of the time. But, he handled it pretty well...he either kicked my butt or just gave in to my relentless begging and allowed me to trail along. Mike and I were 5 years apart in age and quite different in personality (he was happy and I was a brat), but we were very close. I miss him a lot.



Why am I writing this right now, at 10:58 on a Thursday night, you may be asking? Well, I am currently in my hometown for a viewing tomorrow. The viewing is for a childhood friend, Shane. Shane was the son of one of my mom's best friends (they are still best friends) and one of my brother's cronies growing up. Shane was the solidly built round-faced boy who ALWAYS included me. He never, ever made me feel left out like some (most)of the other boys did. In truth, he was probably my first "crush" (if you can call it that at 8 years old). I have a scar on my forehead from a time when he and his sister and Mike and I were climbing a "mountain" (in truth it was probably a 6 foot ledge, but we thought we were impressive). I was the last one to go...right after Shane...a rock slipped out from under his foot and cut my head. Shane felt terrible because it was his foot that loosened the rock above. He was just a super-nice kid.

I haven't seen him in years...well, I ran into him now and again when we were both home, but not had a real TALK beyond the everyday pleasantries. But, nevertheless, I am mourning his death. My heart goes out to his mother who became a widow just 4 short years ago. I feel for his friends because they lost a great one. And I feel for his sister Renee...my friend from many, many years ago who is going through a time that I remember all too well. I hope at some point I can reach out to her and help, but for now I will go to the service and pay my respects...And keep the fond memories of my childhood...of Shane and Mike and Renee...close to my heart.

Why I can't seem to get inspired to blog...

Ok, it has been another month (and a half if you are actually counting) for me to hop back over here and type something...anything. I read a few blogs weekly, but I never really get a chance to collect my own thoughts enough to write...Here are a few examples of why I can't collect my own thoughts...Disclaimer: I love my kids...LOTS. I use humor to get me through my day and so they have a healthy understanding of sarcasm at a very early age...I don't see a problem with that...except when they use it on me.

Example #1: My 2 year old, as many of you have heard, nearly amputated her finger in the treadmill last month while I was running on it. (By the way, the most unbelieveable and scary part of the sentence is clearly the part about me running on the treadmill...but, alas, I have started running). Anyway, looooooonnng story short, we had 3 trips to the ER in 8 days (4 trips in 2 weeks if you count the trip I took the Friday before because my eyes swelled shut at Knoebels for no apparent reason). The finger got infected, as did her blood and other nasty stuff...bad scene which CONSUMED me and the fam for an entire month(causing a seizure at the grocery store...MAJOR DRAMA). We couldn't swim; we couldn't go to the park; our summer came to an ABRUPT HALT. You'd think that I would blog while sitting at home, but I did not...I snuggled, changed bandages endlessly, snuggled some more...and ran - OUTSIDE - when I could get away (No treadmill for me!) Regardless, she is healed and we are living it up during our abbreviated summer vacation. (I would post pictures, but several of my friends claim retaliation if I show them finger photos).

The finger stuff is a big reason why I didn't blog...just too little time, but there are other issues that don't seem to be directly related to time, but these are the ones that affect my mental frame of mind. You know, things like trying to educate your three children by taking them to the public library only to discover that the 2 year old pooped (MY GOD WILL SHE EVER USE THE POTTY?!?) and and has decided to throw herself into a healthy tantrum because I am ill-prepared for this situation (For Pete's sake, she already loaded up the diaper TWICE that morning...a third time, really?) and we have to leave. Well, she proceeds to start SCREAMING...LOUD-LY. Thankfully we are on the children's floor where it is ALMOST acceptable to speak beyond a hushed whisper. I hurry the elder children along and we head for the elevator...where the screaming escalates. We make the ONE FLOOR trip down the elevator and when the doors open, what do I see? Three of the library employees standing there trying to figure out what to do about the stuck elevator...which isn't actually stuck. They heard #3's screams and assumed someone panicked in a stuck elevator. Thankfully #1 is an incredibly responsible 7 year old and grabbed my library card, checked the books out and met me, #2 and the screamer at the car. Even though it was a 9 minute visit to the library I was clearly too drained that day to blog.

Let's see...Oh, then there was the day before yesterday at the grocery store that I nearly forgot...maybe because it wasn't THAT tramatic, but maybe a smidge cute. My 2 year old stands in the back of the cart...Go ahead, lecture me...I have heard it all before. Not only does she STAND in the back of the cart, sometimes she makes herself as stiff as a board and lays ACROSS the cart from the right to the left...Let me tell ya how THIS gets the old folks hackles up. Anyway, cart riding is not this issue in this particular tale. We were in the check-out after what seemed to be a rare almost-pleasant trip to the store. While in the check-out #3 grabbed M&M's while I was loading my items onto the belt (the belt now scares me because it is QUITE similar to the belt on a treadmill...kinda makes my stomach hurt). Anyway, while I was loading the belt, my lovely toddler was inspecting the candy or so I thought. When I got up to the cashier to check-out she handed me 3 bags of M&M's...I looked at her quizzically and she said "Your daughter convinced that man to buy these for her". WHAT!?! My DAUGHTER doesn't speak (well, no longer true..we are up to 32 words, but surely her language skills are not advanced enough to coax a stranger into buying her candy...Now wait...isn't there some no-no about taking candy from strangers?!). So, ANYWAY, HOW could she talk this cute elderly man into buying her M&M's? From what the clerk said she just kept smiling at him as she laid the candy packs one by one onto his other items (knowing full-well that they were being placed on HIS side of the grocery divider bar that I had placed at the end of his order). Apparently she is such a charmer (or he a sucker) that he bought them...As I looked up he waved at me from the door and headed out. All three kids were pretty excited that #3 hooked them up. Gonna have to REALLY keep an eye on that one.

I don't generally feel alone in my crazy-mom life. I have a good friend who is also the mother of 3 small children nearly identical ages to mine. Well, she took her #1 shopping for sneakers at a large sporting goods store with #2 and #3 in tow. While trying on #1's sneakers, #3 took off his own shoes and was clunking around in a pair of cleats...click, click, click (I wasn't there, but she said they went "click, click, click" while relaying the story to me). So, when they were finished #3 began his, what I now like to call, "3rd child expression" when my friend took the cleats off. Upon taking his over-sized cleats off she realized that she couldn't find his shoes. When she asked him where they were all he would do was point to the wall with all the shoe boxes. He'd put his shoes INTO one of the 3000 shoeboxes that lined the wall (3 rows deep!). It took her over 20 minutes to root through boxes (with a screaming toddler and two nagging children) to find his shoes, put them on his feet and head for the door. Poor girl. (However, understand - I AM NOT ALONE!) The sad part is that the next day a father from her children't daycare said to her "I saw you at the sporting goods store last night...You were having quite a time of it"...Gotta love THOSE people...so helpful.

You know who you ALSO have to love? Cocky teenage boy lifeguards. Not really...Just the other day we were enjoying a lovely day at our local pool (that's right...I take THREE children to the pool TOGETHER on a regular basis) when my 5 year old decided to be a funny-man. What possessed him to commit the following act I may never know, but it was one of those actions where you need to be stern with the discipline, but have a hard time hiding your smile...we've all had them. This is what happened: The cocky teenage boy lifeguard who refuses to crack a smile with his whistle-blowing mouth (I believe because he believes he is too cool?) was sitting in his super-cool, he-has-the-power (and the nice shady umbrella) lifeguard chair...you know, it sits about 2 feet higher than the rest of us? Pair that with the whistle and I can almost see how he might feel cool. Regardless, he is in his chair. My children are in the pool near him. I am sitting a few feet away watching my children while simultaneously chatting with a friend (I can multi-task like that). Well, for WHATEVER reason, #2 gets out of the pool with his cute, yellow rubber duck in his hand and does WHAT!?! He walk around the chair and behind the too-cool-to-be-real lifeguard and SQUIRTS WATER DOWN HIS SWIMTRUNKS!!! I kid you not! My son poured water from a DUCK down the pants of the on-duty lifeguard. You are probably wondering what Joe Cool's response was...NOTHING. Not a grimace. Not a smile. Not a whistle-blow. NOTHING. I was so amazed at my son's actions that it took me a minute to realize that it did indeed happen. I, of course, reprimanded my son (through stiff lips) and apologized to the life guard who said NOTHING. I couldn't read his expression through his fashionable sunglasses, but needless-to-say, I need to watch #2 pretty closely at the pool because I am not sure we can count on the lifeguard to save him.

So, now you understand a little bit more about my life and why sometimes I am uninspired...or just too darned tired...to blog. I will continue to make attempts...stopping and starting...until I produce something, but until then I am thankful for your patience.

Family Traditions...

**My apologies for not blogging in a while...things get busy and time flies**

This weekend we camped at Knoebels Grove....just like we did last year...and the year before...and the 4 years before that. We camp in my parents 36 foot RV...very cramped quarters for a family of 5 and two grandparents (oh, and a Boston Terrier). Several relatives from New York come down and participate in what has now become a family tradition. It is terrific. We always get the same sites on the same weekend in June every year...it is really routine. Of course, every year there is SOMETHING that you can't account for ahead of time...Van tires need replaced, someone loses their glasses on the Skloosh water ride, someone (ME) ends up at the ER with eyes swollen shut, someone else forgets to put their cell phone in a baggie before heading onto the Skloosh (this same person lost their cell phone a few years ago...hmmmmm)...the list is endless. Yet, every year on the second week of June, there we are...Knoebels Grove, riding rides and eating Cesaeri's delicious pizza.

And new traditions spring up every year...for instance, a few years ago someone suggested a family Bumper Car ride. So we did. It was the most fun we have ever had on an amusement park ride and, hence, it became a tradition..trying to ram another family member as hard and aggressively as you can. We always do the park on Saturday and the water slides/pool on Sunday. Campfire on Sunday night regardless of the humidity. Hoagies (subs for you New Yorkers) on Thursday upon arrival in PA. All traditions. This year we added Sunday night pizza around the campfire to our tradition. Someone didn't feel like cooking...suggested it...Done.

So, even after being in cramped quarters on a day when the heat index reaches 112 you still gather around the campfire because the under 10 crowd gathered wood. It's just what you do...it's what you EXPECT. It's nice. And every year something unexpected happens that makes all the work worthwhile. This year: #1 made a new friend. My NY cousin's wife brought her "little (little being 43 years old) brother with her. And he brought his 8 year old son, M. I am thrilled to announce that M and J (the dad) will be returning next year to hopefully become part of our annual Knoebels outing.

I have memories from my childhood of wonderful family traditions...especially going to my uncles cabin where all the family would settle in for the weekend and also camping with my grandparents, again same time/same place every year. These are lifelong memories we are making. And you know what? For the kids the memories will be of Skloosh soakings, bumper car rides, gathering wood for the campfire and new friends from Brooklyn...they will never remember arguments over RV positions or someone losing their glasses on the Skloosh. They will remember, hopefully, this time where their family members gathered around to spend a weekend acting like kids.

For those of you who enjoy commenting: What are YOUR family traditions? If you don't have any, it isn't too late to start. Here are a few pictures of our fun!



Me, the thugs and my mental patient...(that is #1 in the bottom corner with her hands in the air...what a daredevil!)


#1 and her friend, M...



Cousins...


#1 off the 3 meter board...


#2 on the Handcars...always a fav...


Cousins...I think they are trying to buy into my "favorite cousin" spot...


Cousins on the Whip...

I need a vacation...

We leave for Disney tomorrow. That should be exciting, right? Well I haven't been able to get too excited because things are happening here at the old homestead...and those things are keeping me from focusing on(or packing for) vacation. What kinds of things, you ask?

Two days ago (I think that was Friday), I needed a carseat put back in the van. My husband opened the garage door to do that for me because I had my own three children plkus the two neighbor girls. He put the seat in teh van and came back to close the garage door. When he did so the door bumped a box and the box bumped a water pipe ("and the armbone's connected to the..." and water began spraying EVERYWHERE. He had walked away toward his car to leave for work..I screamed (that water was COLD) and hurried to shut off the main water to the pipe(I am good like that in emergency sitations) and called him back. He did some swearing...and then I sent him off to work with the promise that I would have the pipe repaired before he got home.

I took a picture of the borken pipe with my cell phone and then did what ANY (insane) person would do...I shut off the main water to the house and went to my favorite coffee shop. I needed to refuel (at 8:30 am) before I took on this project.

After refueling I was off to the local hardware store. I showed Mr. Plumber-man my cell phone picture (he looked at me like I was NUTS...I thought it was ingenious). Then he proceeded to call me all sorts of nice names like "little lady". Although a bit sexist, he was incredibly helpful. I had my gear and was on my way. I called a neighbor because I always like to have an extra set of hands when doing a project...in case I electrocute myself...or in this case, drown. He came over and together we reapired the broken pipe. Hubby was impressed and I was relieved.

Not for long...Yesterday I went to buy some coffee at the local mini-mart (I think I drink a lot of coffee) to fuel up for the first time of the day. When I came home two of my kids were in front of the tv and the third was playing in the toyroom. Dave was on the computer working and bubbles were floating across my kitchen floor...the source? The dishwasher. I knew exactly what happened. I called to my beloved "Honey, did you put sink dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher". He replies "Yes, we were out of the powder". An honest mistake. He came up to see hwat was going on (at this point the kids were super-excited) and again with the swearing. He went back to work and I went to work on the bubble situation. I tried cold water from the sprayer in the sink (not helpful). I tried vinegar (sounded plausible). I tried a BUCKET of cold water (Isn't cold water supposed to get rid of bubbles?) FInally I called my best friend...she is so wise. She said to shop vac the dishwasher. I didn't have a shop vac so I improvised...I used the steamcleaner. It worked. No more bubbles and life is good...until Sunday.

Dave took our eldest to a dog show. She LOVES dogs so it was a big event for her. I decided to take the wee ones to the big rat (Chuck E Cheese). I decided to skip the coffee this morning and go with a protein shake. I was trying a new brand and I have to admit that it was PRETTY tasty. However, there we are an hour later, shoes on, ready to go out the door and my body decides that it doesn't really like that particular brand of protein. I head for the bathroom and begin to smell a burning smell..."Hmmmmmmm...What is that?" I wonder. The smell gets stronger and I hurry out of the bathroom to discover its source...#3 (in the short time I was in the bathroom) managed to pull out the iron, pick the outlet safety plug from its home in the wall and plug in the iron. Then she laid the iron on its side. This was the result:






I was flabbergasted...I had NO idea what to do (other than unplug the iron). Did I mention that this spot is RIGHT in the middle of my living room floor...RIGHT in the middle?

I did what any (insane) person would do...I grabbed my kids and went to see the big rat. We had a good time. My friend Sara (a Martha Stewart of sorts) said we could fix it. So, we went home to my house and did this:



and then finished up with this:




and then took a good look at it. I believe she said "If you step WAY back here and blurry your eye a little bit you don't even notice". So, then we ordered this:



in this color:



Here is a picture of the guilty party (in her defense she DID try to clean it up with a wipe).





Thank goodness nothing (child nor house) got seriously burned, but REALLY, can I just get out of here and start my vacation already?

Updates:

Ok, here are a few updates on my last few blogs...

First of all (drumroll please)...#3 is sleeping IN a bed! Ok, so it isn't HER bed, per se, but sleeping in #1's bed alone still counts...it is NOT the floor, nor is she doing that thing where she lays behind the door and prevent a draft from floating UNDER the door (like that long stuffed dog thing my grandma used to put along the base of her kitchen to keep the "chill" from coming in...# 3 is no longer like that). Here is shot for your non-believers:



Next up...I still haven't taken the cellophane off of the striptease aerobic video, but I did buy this:

Seriously...the most awesome bra ever...although not so sexy. This puppy will hold the girls in place, I'll tell ya. I wish they made body bras...I still have a lot that could be held in place.

And I bought all of these items:






and, alas, THESE:




What does all this mean? Well, I have to say that I actually PUT the stuff ON and RAN on the treadmill yesterday...yep, I ran for TWELVE minutes. It was tough...I was really sweaty. I cooled off with a bowl of Party Cake ice cream afterwards. I am going to try and do it again tonight WITHOUT the ice cream finish. I'll let you know how that goes.

Walking man is still walking...

Still missing Kirby. I have to go in to have Delilah cut #2's hair tomorrow. It will be a sad day walking in there without my beloved Kirby, but I am ready to put my game face on.

The rude lady at Wal-Mart still works there...ARGH.

And, lastly, I have moved on from my Build-A-Bearville addiction (even though a got a kickin' rabbit named Bunnita from my kids for my birthday)...I have moved on to Webkinz. I "manage" Charlotte's account until she is old enough to use it. I think that is pretty thoughtful.

Oh, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up...I realize it was just yesterday's post, but just letting you know that nothing came to me in my sleep.

Until later...

I think I wanna grow up...but I don't know what I want to be!

Ok, #3 has hit 2 1/2 (and all the glorious things that go along with being a full-fledged 2 year old that we won't get into right now) and I am realizing that it won't be all that long before she too goes to school. That leaves me and Brutus-the-dog home all day by ourselves (I love Brutus, but he isn't much of a conversationalist). I never used to see being home all day by myself as a problem. Dave and I had an agreement that if I didn't run us into irreparable financial ruins with my shopping habit while he was in law school then he would never ask me to go out and earn money. I held up my end of the deal so I am not require by MARRIAGE LAW to get a "real job". But, now that the wee ones are getting older the prospect of being home alone all day doesn't appeal to me as much as it once did.

Now, here's the rub...I don't know what I want to do. I mean I have a dream job in my head...I would get paid a lot of money to shop, talk on the phone and play on the computer all day. I would get to make my own hours and do the job tasks at my leisure. I could wear what I want and have great co-workers who I go out with for a drink after work sometimes (and important mandatory dinners would take place at fancy shmancy restaurants where it is almost required that you order the lobster). The job would be near my favorite coffee shop and maybe near a good manicure shop or massage parlor. Ok, so if anyone knows of a job that fits these requirements please let me know (oh, and I would prefer not to relocate...thanks).

Now, seriously, I have a legitimate problem here because I HONESTLY do not know what I want to be when I (or rather my children) grow up. Here are my skills...at least I THINK they are my skills...or people TELL ME they are my gifts...of course, I have a lot of nice friends who may just be telling me what I want to hear, but regardless...here is the list I have compiles (on the back of an envelope in purple crayon):

- I have excellent people skills: This meaning I can talk to ABSOLUTELY anyone...even some of the grumpy-faced 1st grade mothers who really hate to see me walk in the door.

- I love to feature write...like this blog. It is SUCH a stress-reliever for me. I don't even care if anyone reads it (except now I OFFICIALLY have three readers: Hi Julie, Kate and Erin!)

- I can talk on the phone like nobody's business...although sometimes it is about EVERYONE'S business (just kidding)

- I am pretty technologically savvy...I can explain ANYONE's cell phone/camera/etc to them without the manual

- I can find anything about just about ANYTHING on the net...I once took a picture with my phone of a friend's tattoo and then researched the symbol on the Internet because she wouldn't tell me what it meant...It took me less than a day to figure it out. I mean, I'm not bragging or anything, but THAT is pretty...ya know...impressive.

- I can sell ice to Eskimos...but not Mary Kay to random strangers. I am not a "cold-call" kinda gal. I like to hot calls or better yet receive hot calls - (i.e. someone calling me to say "I hear you sell Mary Kay...can I buy some from you?")

- Did I mention that I love to talk? I mean to ANYONE...#1 tells everyone a story about how I struck up a conversation with a woman at McDonald's (actually I wiped her baby's nose because it was really gross and she was wearing a front-pack carrier and couldn't see that it was almost running into the baby's mouth) and a few months later she showed up at one of my Mary Kay parties with a friend of mine who came. Small world. She remembered me as "that chatty girl from McDonald's who wiped her infant's nose".

- I am pretty motivated...and organized...well, except for my house...and my car. But I am REALLY organized when I am 1st grade room mom (or Kindergarten for that matter as I have successfully completed a year as such)

Now, I think that gives you a pretty good idea of what I CAN do...let's list what I might not consider to be my strong points:

- I hate bodily fluids...I only say this because it seems that ALL my friends ship their youngest child off to Kindergarten and head to nursing school...not for me. I don't do bodily fluids unless they are mine or my offspring's (and even that gets kinda hairy sometimes)

- I don't want to work weekends

- I don't want to work FREQUENT evenings (notice I said FREQUENT...and put it in caps...I am willing to go to an occasional dinner at a fancy restaurant and have fillet Mignon while drinking wine and talking business once in a while if I must...but this cannot be every night...and late nights at the desk just aren't gonna happen)

- I don't want anyone's life to depend on what I do. Originally I went into Mary Kay because I thought "making people pretty isn't too stressful...it will be fun". See, I didn't want to sell defibrillators. I knew straight-away that it was too much stress. One malfunctions and I could never live with myself.

- Oh, oh...I don't want to lift boxes. I realize that this would get me into shape, but if you read my last blog then you understand my feelings on exercise - and I think the dress code would discourage boots with 4 inch heels.

So, this is my dilemma...WHAT can you do with these fine skills? NADA...Nothing...Zip. In all seriousness I would love to do one of a number of things

...be an admissions counselor for a college (but I am 15 credits away from a college degree...I am willing to bet that they want someone who actually HAS a degree to interview people hoping to EARN a degree...just a good policy, I think)

...a travel agent (downfall: may require weekend work AND sitting in an office for lots of hours...could mean a bigger butt?)

...an outside sales person (Just can't figure out WHAT to sell or who to sell it to...would probably have to take a class to actually LEARN some sales skills...Mary Kay didn't quite ready me for pharmaceutical sales)

So...help? Suggestions?? Wanna draw up my resume? Hire me? Let me know if you come up with anything fabulous because as of right now I am probably going to end up sitting at home (yeah, right) with Brutus-the-dog watching soap opera's...ok, that is a bit of a stretch. I will probably end up shopping and spending a bunch of money running us into the debt that Dave worried about in law school. Yeah, I better get an idea...soon.