Oh How I Love the Filth

Midday Friday the doorbell rang, which usually means that UPS Guy, Fed Ex Dude or The Mailman is there to satisfy my internet shopping appetite. (And yes, I know I am not being politically correct but said delivery people that come to MY house are all of the male gender. So there.)

Most everyone else in the world knows that you shouldn't ring the doorbell at a house that may contain sleeping babies unless you want to face the wrath of a frazzled mother, but delivery guys don't really seem to care about this. Probably because they usually ring the bell, drop the package on the doorstep and are in the truck and halfway down the street before I get the chance to give them an icy glare for waking up my youngest child.

But, I digress.

Midday Friday the doorbell rang. My kids were not sleeping so I happily bounded down the stairs to see who could be at the door. There stood Fed Ex Dude with my new Bissell 9400 Proheat 2x Select Upright Deep Carpet Cleaner that was not supposed to come for another two weeks. "Wow, it's just like CHRISTMAS!" I proclaimed while doing a happy dance. Fed Ex Dude eyed me nervously and moved the box inside the door for me since it was so heavy. How chivalrous. Off to his truck he escaped.

I was so excited! I even called Greg at work to announce our newest arrival. I was all pumped to do some major Cleaning 'O' Carpet until I realized that my mom was coming for the weekend in about two hours and probably wouldn't want to spend it watching me suck up filth with my new toy. The box sat unopened all weekend, taunting me. We kept busy though and I was able to properly ignore it all weekend long. That is, until this evening when I could no longer contain myself. Yeah, I know. I broke the "Keep the Sabbath Day Holy" commandment.

Can I just tell you how absolutely, positively wonderful it was to clean my disgusting carpets? The carpet in my family room needed a good scrubdown LAST January, when I had such bad morning sickness that I would just toss random pieces of food (crackers, raisins, etc) on the floor for A to eat. I even remember a time that I spilled a glass of juice and just watched it seep into the carpet because I knew if I moved at all I would start heaving again. I was happy to live in squalor if it meant not throwing up. Fortunately my attitude has changed since morning sickness subsided and I can now be relied on to make semi-intelligent decisions. If I spilled a glass of juice these days I would promptly clean it up, I assure you of that.

My carpet now looks clean and it smells divine. I would say it looks beautiful but it does not since I hate the color. It has a seventies "Golden Wheat" quality to it that I just can't seem to fall in love with. Plus it is about as comfortable as cozying up on the floor of a Texaco station. Not that I would know.

I don't know what it is about deep cleaning things that I love so much. Seeing all the dirt and grime that comes out of the carpet fills me with disgust and joy all at the same time. I felt the same way when we got our Dyson. We have had it for a year and a half and I have yet to tire of checking the canister after each room to see how much debris it has collected. It's a sickness, really.

I helped my inlaws clean their deck with a power sprayer last year and it was pure exhilaration. It took me ten times longer to do my portion of it because I had to get every little tiny piece of dirt and color out of the wood. Greg promptly took over so that we wouldn't be there for the next two weeks and I contemplated becoming a dental hygenist. Scraping nastiness from the crevices of stranger's teeth? I could SO make a career out of that.

Here I am with Bissell herself. I am hiding behind her because this was the best way to hide that I am wearing my satin candy cane pajama pants. Holy Embarrassing. Plus the camera added a bunch of weight so the view from the side made me look fatter than I actually am. Yeah, I'm sure that's what it was.

My purdy carpet lines. Just like Amber Waves of Grain. Kinda makes you want to sing America the Beautiful, doesn't it?


Ah, bliss.

He Ain't Heavy!

Tomorrow is my older brother Jeff's birthday. He is turning 28, which means I am turning 27. What the heck? Didn't I just graduate from high school a year or so ago? And who are these children and why are they bothering me?

I started thinking last night about all of that. Things have changed so much in the past few years but there are some things that will always stay the same, even if it isn't evident on the surface.

It was 1992, I was starting 8th grade, Jeff was starting 9th. Boyz II Men were at the End of the Road and we were all Smelling Like Teen Spirit. We had just moved to a new town and were going to a new school. It was much bigger than our last one and it was easy to get lost in the shuffle. I was so nervous on the first day! I went through the entire morning without talking to anyone. I kept doing the shy smile and "hi" thing but to no avail. I was starting to think I was destined to be a loser.

My third hour music class was hard to find. I even asked for directions from a blonde girl wearing overall shorts with one of the sides unbuckled. She obviously recognized me as a soon-to-be loser and didn't want to waste her precious time giving good directions. I looked and looked and still couldn't find my class. The bell rang. I was late and I was lost. My eyes welled up with tears. I was sure that this was how life was going to be from now on. I was going to be the girl who ate by herself, sat by herself and talked to no one. I felt totally and completely alone.

Just when I was about to break down bawling I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see my big brother Jeff standing there, asking if I was okay. I cried to him and told him that I missed my friends and was having a hard time. He said he was too and hugged me while I sobbed. I told him I couldn't find my class. He put his arm around me and told me that we'd find it together. And we did.

That was the start of a great friendship. Before that I was just the annoying kid sister who tagged along after him on occasion, and he was the stinky older brother that beat me up three times a week. After that day we had a newfound respect for each other. We depended on each other more. We hung out with the same crowd. We became good friends. I still annoyed him on occasion, but he tolerated me. Probably because he wanted to make out with all my friends, but still.

We have remained great friends from that time until now. There were times that we didn't get along and times that we struggled to see the other's point of view, but we have always remained close.

One day last year I came to the realization that we don't talk much anymore. At first this made me terribly sad, but then I realized that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. We just don't need the emotional support from each other that we once did. We have loving, devoted and caring spouses to do that. So much has changed in our lives. We are no longer the carefree kiddies of yesteryear. We both have kids now and mortgages to pay. We live in different states. We have grown up, grown apart.

Things have definitely changed, but one thing has not. I have always had a friend in my big brother. For that I feel very blessed.

Happy 28th Birthday, Jeff. I wish I could be there to make you a big ole shepherd's pie.

Our Very Accurate Ear Thermometer

I realize that most people say that ear thermometers are not at all accurate. They have yet to use OUR ear thermometer, which at least in one instance last night was quite correct.

I was so sick last night. I don't know what I ate or which of the Primary Children is actually a disease-ridden carrier monkey but I spent half the night bowing over the toilet hoping that my water wouldn't break. I know that doesn't make sense since I am NOT pregnant, but my water broke from throwing up during my pregnancy with M and I still have the fear every time I harf. It does not make much sense but a lot of thoughts I have don't make much sense.

A was sick with a bad cold and kept crying for us so Greg decided to bring him to bed with us. He took A's temperature since he felt a little warm but the button on the thermometer kept sticking and wouldn't work. He tried to fix it, then got frustrated and said, "You stupid piece of....." He then looked at the screen to see if the display is telling him anything.

It said POS.

And I am not lying. If I would have felt any better at all I would have taken a picture. We were laughing so hard that I started to cry. Yes, our thermometer is very accurate indeed.

Seven Things I Have Learned This Week

--M apparently has a huge noggin. Like an orange on a toothpick. (ten points if you can identify what movie that is from) A large El Salvadorian woman informed me of this at Great Clips where A was getting his hair cut. "Can I see your little baby?"she asked. I turned his infant carrier around to show her. She gasped in disbelief and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh! Your baby! His head is HUGE! Oh, my! What a big head!" I smiled and said, "Yep! But he's tall so it all works out." Everyone in the waiting area looked at me and smiled, trying to soften the blow I think. I wasn't too broken up about it. Probably because I think his head is ginormous too.

--Ignoring the laundry does not make it go away. It in fact multiplies while you are not looking causing even more stress and work.

--It is best not to vacuum (or Dyson, as we call it in our household) while M is playing on the floor because when the vacuum starts he will start to cry and A (the two year old) will think you are going to suck him up. A will then throw his body over M to protect him from the Mean, Mean, Dysoning Mom and point his finger at her saying, "Mom! No....mine! No...MINE!!!!" in a bossy, scolding sort of way. You will have to completely stop vacuuming to calm both boys down and then spend the next 15-20 minutes assuring them that you were NOT planning to suck either of them up. Fun times.

--Eating almost an entire bag of Snickers bars in one sitting is not really the greatest idea. It will leave you feeling quite poorly.

--If you let your child run around like a banshee at your neighbor's house while you are too busy talking to pay attention, this could be the result. (And I guiltily admit that one of my first thoughts was, "Hey, I should blog this!")

--A banshee is not a mountain goat-like animal as I previously thought. According to dictionary.com it is "A female spirit in Gaelic folklore believed to presage, by wailing, a death in a family." I just checked with Greg. Apparently I am the only person in the world that didn't know this. This whole time I've been calling my little boy a banshee thinking it was an obnoxious, four-legged animal when it is in fact a languishing ghost. Funny how two things that are completely different still can both be quite accurate descriptions of my two-year-old son.

--The movie Charlie and the Chocolate Factory is rated PG for "Quirky Situations, Action and Mild Language." Quirky Situations?? I wasn't aware that Quirky Situations could get you a PG rating. You really do learn something everyday.


So there you have it. My wisdom for the week. Have a great weekend!

Happy Valentine's Day, Ya'll!

This morning as I was getting ready I tried to think of our most memorable Valentine's Days. And the winners are:

February 13-14, 1998---The Valentines Day of Firsts
Greg and I had been dating for almost two months. The night before V-day he professed his undying love for me for the first time but in French so I had no idea what he said. After much pestering he gazed lovingly into my eyes and said, "It means.... 'I love you'." My heart melted. I asked him if he meant it and he said he did. I said it back and we kissed until we were rudely interrupted by his roommate who told us that "It was his room too!" Whatever, dude.

The next day Greg took me to his home state of Idaho for the first time and it was then that I realized that everything did not turn black and white when you crossed the border into the Gem State. We went to Preston and ate at a burger joint with a bunch of old leering farmers. We bought a lotto ticket for the first time at La Tienda. Which, coincidentally is the same store in which Napolean shops. We are in such good company.

That night Greg and his roommate made me and my friend dinner. Homemade Chicken Cordon Bleu and Ribbon Jello, or so I have been told. The lights were dimmed so dark that we could not see the actual ribbons. But it tasted like Jello so that was good enough for me. We went to the USU Sweetheart Dance, which was really fun. We danced flamboyantly to "My Heart Will Go On" secretly mocking the couples who were clinging to each other as if they were going to be sunk with the Titanic. We stayed up until 4am just talking and looking deeply into each others eyes, then woke up early to drive to my cousin's missionary farewell. Ah, young love.

February 14, 1999--Our First Valentine's Day as a Married Couple
I spent weeks in anticipation for our first lawfully wedded V-day. Greg set the expectations WAY too high on our first Valentine's Day and I was expecting something big. He came home from school with a pot of yellow mums because "they wouldn't die like roses would." I said thanks, acted grateful then excused myself to the bathroom where I cried my eyes out for 20 minutes. A pot of mums? That is what you put on someone's grave. Is this all was to him now? We get married and all the romance goes out the window? I calmed myself down enough to leave the bathroom and we had a nice, quiet Valentine's day.

We "had a discussion" about it a couple of days later and he realized the error of his ways, although he didn't understand it. I still don't think he understands it. After being married for seven years though I have come to the realization that it is the thought that counts and really, I was being petty. I do think they should put a warning on the potted plants though around this time of year: ATTENTION ALL NEWLY MARRIED HUSBANDS: Do not buy your wife this plant for Valentine's Day even if it IS cheaper and the more sensible option. Come back in a couple of years when the thrill is gone. By that time she will most likely be grateful that you even acknowledged her in some small way.

February 14, 2006--Yup, Today.
I gave Greg a picture of our initials carved into a tree. My friend Sunny photoshopped it for me. He liked it, although he opened it upside down and was at a loss trying to figure out why I had gotten him a framed picture of a wooden duck. He got up early and picked up bagels and juice for breakfast. When I came downstairs he had flowers and See's Nuts and Chews for me. Score there, they are my fav. We got a babysitter for the evening but then decided that we would much rather be with family today so we are all going out to dinner with his sisters and the kids. I think it is a fabulous idea. What better way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with some of the Valentines in our lives.

Happy "Love" Day everyone. I hope it's a fantastic one for you.

Oh How I Love Customer Service!

So on Friday I bought one of those teething feeders for M. I figured that since he looks at us longingly every time we have Big People Food that I could be kind enough to throw a banana or apple in the feeder once in a while and let him go to town. He seemed to enjoy it but I couldn't get it open afterwards! I tried, Greg tried, we both tried together. Nothing. Really, really aggravating. So I tossed it.

Last night I am being completely bored so I decide to email the company and tell them that their product sucks. I was nicer than that though. I told them that the little yellow latches on the side of the teething feeder were very hard to open and that after using it once I ended up throwing it away because it wasn't worth my time to try to get the thing open each time I wanted to use it.

This is their response:

Hello and thank you for visiting our website. I am sorry to hear of the problem you had with the teething feeding. If you ever have a problem with a product of ours please let us know so that we could get you a working replacement. Because you threw it away I will not be able to send a replacement, give a refund, or a merchandise credit. If I can be of any future assistance please let me know. Thanks and have a great day!

At first I was very impressed that she knew I was having problems with the Teething Feeding. M is teething, so feedings are not going that well lately as he has been trying to use me as a chew toy. How she knew this I don't know. Psychiatric powers? I'm not sure. But it was a very kind thing for her to be concerned. I was, however, a tad bit annoyed at the rest of the email.

Here is what I wrote back to her this morning:

Thanks for getting back to me. I did throw the product away. I didn’t think you would want me to send you a teething feeder with 4-day-old black banana smushed inside of it. Maybe I’m wrong? I wasn’t able to clean it out because I couldn’t get the top off, which really, was the whole reason I was dissatisfied with the product. I would go fish it out of the garbage but it was trash day today and it’s already gone. Good to know for next time I guess.

Have a great day.

I realize I was a little on the snarky side, but hopefully I got my point across. I'll let you know if I hear back. I'm guessing I will not.

What a Big Boy!

A miracle has occured.

My son A went to church nursery today all by himself for the very first time.

He did not cry. He did not cling to our legs and beg us to stay with him. I did not have to pretend to ignore his screaming sobs halfway down the hall as I attempted to teach music to the older kids.

It was absolutely delightful, and about time. He started going to nursery when he was 18 months and he is now 2 years and 2 months. Yes my friends, it is about friggin' time.

Truth Be Told

Well, pat yourself on the back because some of you got it right. Good job guys!

I DID grow up in Utah but I have only been downhill skiing one time. It was a horrible, awful experience and I have no desire to ever to it again. Strapping my legs to sticks and then speeding down a hill at 90 mph isn't my idea of a good time. Especially when it is done less than a week after being in a whiplash-inducing car accident. Stupid, stupid me. But really, am I THAT unathletic that NO one could believe that this one was true? Come on now.

Shelah is right, my husband was NOT my first kiss. Or second. Or even fifteenth! I guess you could say I was somewhat of a Lip Whore in high school and college. Twas fun times, let me tell you.

I do not love motorcycles. They are fun to ride but they scare me. I have had too many friends get hurt while riding them so I have never even entertained the thought of getting my license. Sorry, Lee. I know I disappoint you greatly.

Camping is NOT one of my favorite things. At all. Sleeping on the ground? Not fun. Going days without showering? Ew. My hair gets so greasy and disgusting that I can actually stand it up straight and it stays. Roughing it for Greg and I would be going to his uncle's cabin where the only internet access is dial-up. Pioneer living, I'm telling you.

So the correct answer would be #2. Country music. I am a fan and have been since birth. I know it is not most hip thing in the world but hey, what can you do. In high school I tried not to like it, I really did. But being the small-town, grew-up-on-a-farm type of girl that I am I just couldn't do it. Greg is pretty much appalled by the whole thing but he has come to accept it just like he accepts the rest of my shortcomings. How gallant of him, don' t you think?

Congrats to the winners. Your prize will be mailed to you in 6-8 weeks if you send me a check for $17.50.

Lying Through My Teeth

So I've been tagged by Daring Young Mom. She is so talented that she got me even while on her Flying Trapeze. How amazing is that? I know. I was impressed too.

I've been instructed to do the following:

Write five things about yourself with only ONE of them being true. The other four are fiction, and everyone else gets to guess which one is not fiction.

1. I grew up in Utah and LOVE skiing. We used to go all of the time but since having kids we've only been once.

2. I love country music. Don't you judge me, Earl.

3. My husband was my first and only kiss. No one else has touched these lips, baby.

4. I love motorcycles and got my license when I was 20 years old.

5. Camping is one of my most favorite things. Something about the fresh air and trees makes sleeping on the ground all worth it.


So take your guesses. Which one is true???

And the following people are now tagged:

Moonface My Mamans Blog Ring Neighbor. *waving over the fence* Hi!!!!
Linsey
Katy
The Full Percentage of Lee
Constant Gardener With her Wee Tater Tots

Caution: I May Throw Up

It happened last night and I'm still feeling sick about it.

I was busily loading the dishwasher when all of the sudden I saw something move on the counter in front of me. I looked a little closer...EW!!!!!! It was a slug!!! A nasty, disgusting, slimy slug was crawling on my kitchen counter! I totally freaked out and Greg came running in on his white horse to save me. I pointed in the general direction of the slug with one hand, the other hand holding my mouth closed so that I didn't scream or harf everywhere. He valiantly ran out of the room and then came back in with one of my black boots.

Then I REALLY started gagging. "Do NOT squish that thing with my boot! It will squirt everywhere and..." I was gagging way too much to talk at that point. I pointed to the paper towels and told him to put it in the paper towel and then get rid of it that way. I can't even imagine the amount of cleanser and elbow grease I would have to go through if he squished it on the counter.

So he gathered it up in the paper towel and took it out to the garbage in the garage. What a Manly Man for saving me. He came back in and we spent the next 5 minutes trying to figure out where it came from. It is the middle of winter in Idaho, not the greatest season for snails, slugs and the like. Then I saw it: The beautiful primrose plant that my visiting teachers brought to me on the last day of January with an "I'm sorry we didn't get to see you this month" note attached to it. I must admit I felt a little guilty but I dropped that thing in the trash like yesterday's newspaper. Buh-Bye. And don't be bringing anymore creepy crawlies into my house.

The Cosa MOFstra

I was reading Daring Young Mom's blog today about internet acronyms and it got me thinking about the sweet little acronym Greg created to make our life a little easier. Ready to hear? Okay.

MOFs.

It stands for My Online Friend. He got SOOO sick of having to hear "There is this girl that I know online..." or "I have this friend...." or "Rachelle, one of my online friends..." a billion times a day that he decided to make it easier on us both. For example, instead of saying, "My Online Friend Rachelle said that her son had another poop explosion". I would just say, "MOF Rachelle's son had another poop explosion". See how much easier that makes things? Kind of pathetic that there was a need for it, but there was. There really, really was.

Soon after that he started calling the MOFs the Cosa MOFstra, not because we are a bunch of Mafia gangsters (although I've wondered on occasion if some of them are) but because we are a huge network from all over the United States, Saint Martin, Mexico and Australia too!

I get together every few weeks with the MOFs that live in my city for GNO or Park Day in the summertime. (Park Day would consist of going to random parks around the city then forgetting to pay attention to our kids because we are so enthralled in our deep, philosophical conversations) They even pretend to be my best friend so they can use the pool in my neighborhood without having to climb the fence. (wink wink, nudge, nudge Constant Gardener)

Here is a snapshot of the last GNO. (which was really a Girl's Night IN due to an out-of-town husband) Don't we just look like a bunch of party animals? I'm the one trying to liven up the crowd by sticking out my tongue.


People often ask how we all know each other and it is kind of embarrassing to say. I usually hem and haw and mutter something lame about an internet message board and then, "Hey, those shoes are just to die for! Wherever did you find them?" Anything to avoid the judging that comes along with telling someone that you hang out with people you met on the World Wide Web.

The Truth: I stumbled across and internet message board for expectant and new mommies when I was pregnant with A. We moved to this city and I discovered that several of the women I posted with lived here too. Soon after that I had severe preeclampsia and ended up delivering A at 34 weeks. He was in the NICU for a month and it was a very traumatic time. I found great strength in talking to board members about it. Some of them had been through it before and it was so nice be able to talk to people who had been in my shoes.

I met some of them in person two weeks after A came home. Greg kept telling me that they would be either two things: 1) Big Ole Nerds that I couldn't relate to or 2) Old Hairy Men with Big Bellies. Turns out he was wrong. (which was good because I was really craving Applebee's fries and it would have been a darn shame if I wouldn't have been able to stick around to eat them) I met some really amazing women that night and since then have met many more.

Having Online Friends has been kind of weird. When I tell people about the board they usually look at me like I am absolutely nuts. Because really, we all know that only pervs and psychopaths hang out on the internet. Let's be honest though. What better way is there for SAHMs to get to know each other? With naptimes and this pesky little season called winter it is hard to get out there to meet other moms. And if you are a people person (a blabbermouth) like me it is very important to have other people around so that you don't freak out and overload your husband with information as soon as he walks in the door.

I never thought that I could get so attached to people that I have never met. I have learned so much from the women on the board. We are all so different but that's what makes it so interesting. Going there makes me a better parent, a better wife and a better friend. I can ask their advice and get fifty different opinions. If I am being whiney, they will tell me. Sometimes not even Greg is brave enough to do that.

Maybe I should stop being embarrassed about the whole thing. The world is changing and it seems that this is just another way of getting to know people. Perhaps I shall embrace my inner geek and the next time someone asks how I met my friends I won't try to change the subject. They can mock all they want but I can be confident in the fact that they don't know what they are missing. If they did, they'd be online too.

Simple Pleasures: My Stat Counter

Who knew that my stat counter would be more exciting to me than my actual blog! I LOVE checking it to see who has come to visit and from where. I love looking at the pie charts and bar graphs. It makes me feel so darn intelligent! Greg thinks it is hilarious that I love it so much. And it kind of is. What can I say, I'm easy to please.

So that's my simple pleasure for this week. Checking my stat counter to see how much I am loved. (or hated...or maybe it's like a train wreck. You know it is going to be awful but you just can't look away) Either way, thanks everyone! Now if you would only start leaving me comments....

Five Things I Have Learned This Week

In no particular order:

---Choosing an doctor purely based on his hotness factor is not generally the best idea. However in my case he turned out to be quite competent as well so it all worked out. Besides, what's wrong with getting a little EYE CANDY at the EYE DOCTOR? Thanks for the referral, Jenn. You were right.

---I talk way too much. I went to Girl's Night Out (GNO) last night with some friends and talked their ears off. Why can't I just shut up and let someone else have a word in? Seriously folks. It's like diarrhea of the mouth. Maybe it's lack of adult conversation during the day. Or maybe I'm just a loudmouth. I'm guessing that is probably it. I'm just a loudmouth. They probably go home and tell their husbands, "Emily won't shut up for ANYTHING!" And they are right. I most likely won't.

---One should always make sure the windows are rolled up before entering an automatic car wash.

---M does not love prunes. Unfortunately for him it was a necessary evil after eating lots of rice cereal and sweet potatoes. The good news is that it worked. No more roly polies for this guy.

---Electrasol 2 in 1 Gelpacs with Jet Dry Rinse Aid sucks. I bought the green apple scent and spent the entire week trying to figure out why my kitchen smelled like bug spray. Plus it left dried on food particles on 3/4 of my dishes. I went to their website to complain. They have a fantastic offer! If I am not satisfied with their product they will send me a coupon by mail good for any one (1) Electrasol product valued up to $4.29. Just what I want. More of the stinky, ineffective crap. I thought about doing it just to get something free and then I realized that I had to print the coupon out, enclose a UPC AND a sales receipt in an envelope and then snail mail it to them. In all honesty it is not worth my time and more importantly the stamp. I'm feeling the crunch since they raised the price.


So another week goes by. I contemplated kissing my calendar today because it is Friday but I had just applied lipstick and didn't want Greg to wonder why it was getting more action than he was. Jealousy is never a positive thing.

And the Mother of the Year Award Goes To....

ME!!! Not that I'm proud.

This morning the kids were driving me nuts. M is teething and for the past two nights has been up at least once an hour. A has some sort of strange sickness that involves a low grade fever and extreme whining. He apparently has become incapable of doing anything on his own including walking, playing and even watching Dieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeegoooooooo!!!!!!!! Usually I have patience for this type of thing but Whiny Kid + Teething Kid + No Sleep = One Grumpy Mom. I am exhausted and actually cried when dh went to work this morning.

So after an extremely long morning I decide that it would be best if we ventured out of the house, even if it is for a few minutes. The automatic car wash doesn't involve getting out of the car and since we were all still in our pajamas I decided that seemed like the best place to go. Plus if the car wash attendant is there we will get Tootsie Pops. Six dollars for a car wash and free Tootsie Pops, what more could you ask for?

A is all excited about going to the car wash until I put him in his carseat, then screams the whole way there because he wants to watch a dvd. (I don't let him--the car wash is like, a mile away) There are two cars ahead of us and we wait. He is still screaming. The car wash attendant brings us both Tootsie Pops and tears turn to slurps of joy. M is happily chewing on a blanket. We move forward. The car wash starts.

I am enjoying my cherry flavored Tootsie and watching the water hit the car when all of the sudden M is hollering like someone threw a bucket of cold water on his head. I turn and look and realize that, in fact, a bucket of cold water IS being thrown on his head. Water is gushing through the window right at him. I throw A's coat over him and he continues to cry. Water is still coming down everywhere. I finally realize that I need to actually close the window and I do.

The car wash gets over and I pull over to assess the damage. The window was only open a teeny tiny amount but it was enough to get everything wet. M is soaked, his carseat is soaked, the entire backseat is soaked. He is livid and lets me know. My poor baby. Not only is he getting teeth (which cannot be comfortable) but he is trying to figure out why on earth he was just doused with frigid water in the middle of January. We got home and I tried to nurse him to sleep. He was so upset that he would pull off, give me the "angry cry" and then get back on. Finally he gave up and went to sleep.

Yeah, I am the Mother of the Year. May tomorrow be a better day.

Simple Pleasures: When dh gets home

One of my very favorite things is when Greg comes home from work. Not just because it means I get help with the kids but because of the sheer joy it invokes.

A, M and I are playing in the family room and the sudden we hear the garage door go up. A looks at me, alarmed, "Da-ta. Da-ta!" (Which means Daddy for those who are not well versed in the language of my two year old) I say, "Yeah, looks like Daddy is home! Go get him!" He runs to the door that leads to the garage and waits impatiently. If Daddy doesn't come in right away he knocks on the door and yells, "Daaaaaaaa-taaaaaaaaa!!!! Daaaaataaaaaa!" He tries to open it, but can't. (Hooray for that..any day now he'll figure it out and we'll be in trouble) Greg opens the door and announces his arrival, "Hellooooooooo!!!!" At this point A is jumping up and down and running all around in circles all the while yelling, "Da-ta!! Da-ta!" He runs to me and points to him, wants me to make sure I know that Dad is home. "Yay! Dad is home," I say.

Greg picks him up, gives him kisses and tickles. A laughs and laughs, acts like he is trying to get away but doesn't quite do it. M, who is six months, sits back and observes with an admiring smile. Dh looks at him and smiles and gives him a tickle too. Smiles turn into fits of laughter. He reaches over and gives me a quick kiss on the lips. Soon we are all smiling and laughing and everything bad that happened that day just disappears.

I love Greg. He is a great dad and a great husband. My best friend in the world. I couldn't ask for a better person to spend the rest of my life with.

"Emily Louisa, GET IN HERE!"

If you look over to the left hand corner of the screen you will see this:

Name:
emlouisa

And if you read my bio at the side you will learn (if you were not aware already) that my name is Emily. You may even venture to guess that my first and middle names are Emily and Louisa, but you would be sorely mistaken. Sorely.

You see my friend, I have no middle name. It is true. Upon learning this I am usually looked at with wide eyes. "No middle name? But....why not?" they ask with pity and shock. I tell them that my parents decided not to give me one since after marriage women generally use their maiden name as their middle name or initial. And I guess that makes sense. And if I liked my maiden name it might be less of an issue, but really, who wants to use H as their middle initial? Ew.

But as I was growing up the 'rents soon realized something. It is hard to get the point across when you are yelling just a first name. My sister is Lori Dee, my brother Jeffrey Glenn, my other brother is Andrew Steven. My sister Samantha and I have no middle names and therefore payed less attention when were getting yelled at. My mom came up with a solution for this. I became Emily Louisa.

First it was Emily Lou and Samantha Lou. Probably after my Aunt, who is Norma Lou. (And before you ask, yes, it is an actual name. I wouldn't mock either because she can probably take you. She's one tough broad.) Then Emily Lou became Emily Louisa. I am assuming it has something to do with being the freckle faced, stringy brown-haired child instead of like my sister Samantha with her bouncy blonde curls and toothy grin. She always got to wear pink and purple. I always wore blue and mint green. She was Mary and I was Laura. Not that I'm bitter.

Anyway, so when Mom yelled it was always "Emily Louisa, GET IN HERE!" My brothers and sisters thought it was hilarious and mocked me all the time. Growing up I always acted like I hated Louisa but secretly I did not. I liked having a middle name, even if it wasn't real. It set me apart from the other five hundred fifty thousand Emilys that I have met in my life. (And yes, there are really that many) Sometimes when you are a kid that's all you need.

So thanks Mom. It was a little late, but you made it out of that department unscathed. I would go down to the courthouse and make it official but I don't want to deal with the Laughter-Behind-The-Eyes I would get from the clerks for wanting Louisa as a middle name. I've suffered enough mocking for it already.

So I guess I'm a Mom.

Well duh. I knew I was a mom when I carried two children for a total of 16 1/2 months. (the first was 6 weeks early) But I'm talking about the stereotypical mom with the 2.5 kids, the house in the suburbs, the Mom Haircut, the too-big diaper bag, the double jogging stroller, and the minivan. Oh, and don't forget the Mom Jeans.

Out of that list I have most of those things. I have 2 kids, but no .5. Hopefully that won't occur for a long long time. If you talk to my husband it will NEVER occur, but don't you worry your pretty little head about that. I will gradually break him down. I have the house in the suburbs. I am not sure what a Mom Haircut is but I think I may have that too. Do I? Be honest now. My diaper bag? Too darn big. Ask my mother. She told me so just last week.

And it was while I was pushing my double jogging stroller for the first time that it hit me. Oh my gosh, I have TWO kids. We are a family of
FOUR. This is my life now, cleaning up spilled juice and vacuuming up goldfish crackers, each of which have been carefully placed on the carpet then pounded with the Pound-A Ball Hammer by my two-year-old. I had to go home and lie down. (Lay down? I never know these things)

You know what though? I like it. Sure there are times when Greg gets the "WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?" call early in the day (10:23 am) but most the time I enjoy being home with the kids. I actually enjoy mopping the floor. I don't mind doing laundry. (It's the folding/putting away part I'm not too fond of) I like kissing owies and giving reassuring hugs all day long. I like being their soft place to fall. I hope I can always be the one to do it.

The two things on the list that I do not have: A Minivan* and Mom Jeans.

Minivan. The word spills from my mouth much like I would say "Septic Tank Leak" or "Festering Boil". There is some rebellious streak in me that deep down screams "NO WAY, GIRL. NEVER! DON'T DO IT!" I know that when I reach the point of Minivan-Wanting that I will have completely and totally succumbed to Momdom. l have given a solemn vow to my friends that I will never own one. They all laugh at me and tell me not to fight it. That I will have to give in eventually. But they do not understand the level of hatred I have for the things with their sensible Stow and Go Seating and their Captain's Chairs. It runs deep, very very deep. I will stick with my Soccer Mom SUV and that will be "Mommy" enough for me.

And the Mom Jean thing? I'm not even going to go there.

So my life as a mom. The messes never end. My house is never clean, the laundry is never done and the pile of books I have been meaning to read is now reached towering proportions. (Note to self: Unpile the books before A decides to topple them and place goldfish crackers between the pages of books that are NOT yours.) But I love it and I love my kids. I have a good life. I am blessed.


*My sincerest apologies for all those who own minivans and love them. I do not understand you, but respect your choice. Well, kind of respect your choice.

Tag...I'm It!

So apparently I've been tagged. I do not really know what this means only that I am supposed to write about some specific things. I am not sure what happens if I don't but knowing these ladies it is bound to be very, very bad. Like Slashing My Tires Bad. They are that mean. So here goes it:


Seven things to do before I die:

--Convince Greg that going to Hawaii would not kill him
--Actually GO to Hawaii with him
--Learn how to sew so that I don't have to throw away clothes that lose their buttons. My mom would be so disappointed in me.
--Take a photography class
--Run a 5k. It might not seem like a long way for most people, but if I tried it in the state I am in right now I would definitely die.
--See the sites on the east coast. You know, the historical ones. Like the Liberty Bell and the White House.
--Raise my boys to be respectable, decent human beings.


Seven things I cannot do:

--Stop myself from eating two brownies if given the option. I know I should stop at one but...impossible.
--Think that socks and sandals are okay. It's just not right. Sorry, Greg.
--Wean myself from "checking my email" 85 times a day. ("Checking My Email" means that I am going to go check all the forums I post on. This could take hours, really.
--Like mushrooms, mustard or any kind of seafood. Really people, I've tried. They are all just nasty.
--Like Aaron Neville. 'Nuff said.
--Not rub my feet together when I am trying to fall asleep.
--Have a baby vaginally. (Stupid friggin' cervix...grrr)
--Watch George W. Bush give a speech without rolling my eyes.


Seven Things that Attract Me to My Spouse(not necessarily in this order!):

--His hair. It was the first thing I noticed about him
--His fine sense of humor
--His Intelligence. He can figure anything out and he is just smart, smart smart.
--The Beautiful Blue Eyes
--The way he listens. No one has the patience to listen to me like he does.
--The fact that I am in here blogging and he is in the other room picking up toys
--He is a spectacular dad. The kids love him so much and so do I.


Seven Things I Say Most Often:

--A, NO!
--I said NO!!
--One more time and you are sitting on the Naughty Spot
--Okay, Naughty Spot Time
--I Love you!
--Friggin'
--I'm going to "Check My Email"


Seven books I love:

--Angela's Ashes
--The Harmony Series
--Cane River
--The Little House on the Prairie Series
--The Book of Mormon
--The Kite Runner
--Children of the Promise Series


Seven movies I could watch over and over again:

--While You Were Sleeping
--My Best Friend's Wedding
--Sound of Music
--Gone With the Wind
--Footloose
--The Parent Trap
--You've Got Mail


People I want to join in:

--Alicia
--Julie


Yeah, I cheated on that last one. He he.

So now you know a little bit more about me. Hang on to your hats cause there is much more to come!

Moo! MOOOOOoooo! Following the Herd

Yeah, that’s the sound of me, following the herd and entering the world of Blogdom. I thought about doing a blog a few months back when I realized that really, nothing exciting happens to me. At least nothing so noteworthy that it would necessitate publishing in the Digital World.

Wouldn’t you know all it took was some peer pressure. One person who said, “Um, Emily, quit being a pathetic blog lurker and write your own!” A seed was planted. I argued with myself all night long. (It was not, however, keeping me up at night. I have children to do that much)

After much consideration I decided to jump in. Yeah, my life isn't all that interesting but I can still think of a few things to write about. Plus blogging involves two areas that I am quite skilled in.

1. Sitting at this computer chair
2. Going on and on about things

Yes, I am a follower. A lemming. A cow. But at least I’m in good company.