Misfit Hausfrau

I Could Swear They Were JUST Here

2010-08-20T11:31:00.003-05:00

I have always had very ordinary, average features. This isn't a complaint, merely a statement. I have always been lucky to have a nose that wasn't too large, not too many freckles, and pretty good teeth that didn't need braces. One feature that I always felt was somewhat lacking were my eyelashes. I do not have the long, luxurious lashes that my daughters have. I have always had stumpy lashes. However, it wasn't a big deal when I was younger. As long as I had Maybelline Great Lash and some eyeliner, I was good to go.

One of the privileges of working from home for the past two years has been that I didn't have to look "corporate" to walk the 27 steps to my office. While I did force myself to at least get dressed (showering was sometimes iffy), I never combed my hair or wore makeup ( I am certain the neighbors at the bus stop wished that I would). As a matter of fact, most of my makeup got thrown away a few months ago because I knew it had expired. The only time I wear makeup is if I am going to one of my husband's work events or to play Bunco (aka Drunko) in my neighborhood.

Last Thursday, I got ready for Drunko. It has been way too hot to wear any real makeup, but my eyes look like the size of a mouse's if I don't put on some mascara. So, I whipped out my Great Lash and went to town. I noticed right away that my lashes weren't getting coated with any of the mascara. I checked the wand with my hand, but there was plenty of mascara on it. I turned on my bathroom light (I know, why on Earth would I turn on a light to apply makeup?!) and took a closer look.

My eyelashes are gone.

Seriously.

OK, maybe not ALL of them, but most of them on my lower eyelids. Upon closer inspection, my left upper eyelid is missing a significant chunk of them. I ran out of the bathroom and yelled to my husband to tell him that my eyelashes are gone. Like every other time I run out of the bathroom yelling, he looked at me blankly, shrugged, and told me he had no idea what I was talking about. As usual, he was no help.

I have since been trying to figure out what happened to my lashes. I have been doing research on Dr. Internet. It is so much more convenient than going to my babe of a dermatologist. When I go to Dr. Hottie with a problem, the looks of sympathy I get from her makes me insane because I know she has never had a bad hair, bad body day or bad face day in her life. And she never will. I can't decide if the cause is simply my age, or if it might be caused by my hypothyroidism. As a born redhead, I lose a lot of hair on my head. I am constantly shedding a lot, but I have never shed anywhere else. I recently had my blood tested for my hypothyroidism, and it came back normal, so my hunch is leaning more toward aging.

Damn you, old age.

I am so annoyed because I know this is going to somehow cost me a lot of money. I have spent close to $1000 lasering hair off of my body this year(keep that to yourself!). I had no idea that I should have been saving some of it to make myself some replacement eyelashes. Latisse isn't cheap and it is only FDA approved to work on UPPER eyelids, not the lower, so I don't know if it would ultimately help. I am also concerned about my eyes and/or eyelids possibly turning brown from using Latisse. And the way my husband rolls his eyes at the vanity drugs people take, I am sure he would be be irate if I started to use it. I am sure he would say something like, "You're only using it because Brook Shields does, blah blah blah." My husband does drug discovery, yet he's against my using them. Go figure.

In the meantime, I am trying to put heavy coats on the 12 eyelashes I do have and pray that no one notices. I'll let you know how that works out. If any of you have any experience with Latisse, do let me know. My lashes thank you.

Facebook Killed My Blog

2010-08-15T19:35:00.009-05:00

Recently, a few friends told me that they missed my blog and wanted to know if I was ever going to write again. Of course, I basked in the glow of their complements about my writing, but when I thought about it, I really didn't know if I was going to write anymore. Frankly, I couldn't remember the last time I had even looked at my blog. Not only have I not written, but I have all but stopped READING my favorite blogs that I have read for years. I used all kinds of excuses. My workload increased, the kids and their activities left me completely spent and unable to write. But I knew I was lying. I have always been busy, but that never stopped me from writing to bitch about how busy I am. The truth was, Facebook killed my blog.

Awhile back, I wrote about how Facebook completely sucked me into its warm, gossipy lair. While I recognized that I was sucked in, I didn't try to stop it. All of my favorite bloggers became my friends, so I was "seeing" them everyday. I started to update nearly everyday on my page. It was so much easier to upload a cute picture of the kids with a snappy quip about the cuteness I had just witnessed than to sit down and write about what was really going on in my day. I figured that my readership had dwindled to single digits, so who cares?

This morning, I happened to go into my blogger account and noticed that I hadn't written since November 3rd of LAST YEAR. I couldn't believe it had been that long. So much has happened since November 3rd of last year. Most of it I haven't posted on Facebook because I am not comfortable sharing anything that isn't cute with 280 of my closest friends and family. I then suddenly remembered why I started my blog in the first place. In 2005, I had just had my second child, relocated halfway across the country two months later, and was dealing with being a SAHM for the first time ever. Did I mention that I am pretty sure that I had postpartum depression at the time but didn't recognize it? I needed to write my blog for therapy, to instill some calm and sanity in what was a really rough period in my life.

It's time for therapy again.

I Knew it Would Happen Eventually

2009-11-03T05:37:00.002-06:00

Once my friends found out we were moving to Nashville, they would say things like, "Oh, I can't wait to hear the girls and their cute little accents when they get older." My hope was that it wouldn't happen so long as Corey and I continued to speak our bland, Midwestern English at home. I was still nervous with the evil outside influences, namely school.

Last week, I heard Ella on the playground shriek, "Y'ALL NEED TO GIT OUT OF MAH WAAAAY!"

Corey and I looked at each other in shock. I told him, "Oh HELL no. We need to nip that in the bud."

A little bit of me died inside that day.

She's Got it All Figured Out

2009-09-22T20:10:00.000-05:00

Ella came home from school today and told me that she had a sub for part of the day. She said that the sub was really nice and even knew Joey from her class when he was a baby.

Ella then said, "Mommy, would you be a sub sometime in my classroom? It would be so cool."

"Well," I said. "I don't qualify because I am not a teacher and I think I would need to take some special classes."

"No problem, Mommy. I am going to write you a list of everything you need to know to become a sub. I'll be right back."

Ella came back a few minutes later with a comprehensive list:

You Work We Work
We Play You Sit.
We read.

And there you have it.

Linus

2009-08-29T08:38:00.004-05:00

Last Monday, I told Corey that we needed to put Linus to sleep. He was suffering so much. Initially, Corey thought we should take him to the vet for a visit just one more time to see what he thought. I told him that while we could certainly put Linus on a pain management program, it wouldn't change the fact that he had no control over his back legs, he was afraid to walk, and was falling all over the place when he did his business.

I put off calling the vet clinic all morning because I was afraid I would start sobbing and I was in the middle of working. Eventually, I called the vet clinic that afternoon and told them that it was time to put Linus down. And then I started to sob on the phone. Fortunately, they know Linus well and love him, so they understand. Then again, it's their job to do so. Dr. Brad called me back later and we talked for awhile about Linus' rapid decline. He agreed that it was time.

We waited until Ella got on the bus on Thursday. We dawdled a little, because we didn't want to do it. Of course, I was crying. I so wish I was a cute cryer, but I am not. I am a red-faced, snot dripping down my nose kind of a cryer. I am not a wailer (thank God) but it ain't pretty. We finally got Linus into the back of the truck and drove to the clinic.

We stayed with him when he died. The shot the vet gives to knock them out takes a lot longer than the shot he is given later to stop his heartbeat. The whole process took about 15 minutes.

The girls took it hard, but I wasn't surprised. They have never had to deal with death. Corey and I told them that Linus died and went to doggie heaven. Fortunately, they didn't ask too many questions. I told them that Bosco needs all of our love now that Linus is gone. The both hugged and kissed Bosco all night long.

The next day, Genna and I came home from running errands. As we walked in the house, Genna said, "Mommy, the house is so empty without Liney. He's in Heaven, right? Doggie Heaven?" I assured her he was.

We had been very worried about Bosco prior to putting Linus to sleep. Bosco typically clung to Linus like a barnacle. As a matter of fact, Bosco never actually put his butt on the floor--he always sat or laid on Linus instead. The few times they have been apart, Bosco has been an absolute mess. The first two days, Bosco was pretty mellow, but he would howl like a hound whenever I got on the phone. It was so strange and random. Now, he has stopped howling and he has been really calm. REALLY CALM. People who know Bosco probably wouldn't believe that the words, "Bosco" and "really calm" would ever be in the same sentence.

I brought Linus' ashes home yesterday. It is so eerie and sad to be able to hold what was once a 65 lb, dog in the palm of one's hand. When I walked in the door with him, Bosco literally bounded off the couch and ran around the house like a complete crazy dog. I hadn't seen him do any bounding or running since Linus was around. He continued to run around the house, sniffing and looking.

He knew his brother was home.

Hypothetical Question

2009-07-18T13:43:00.003-05:00

So, would it be bad if, oh, let's say, two girlfriends decide to sign their combined five children up for a Vacation Bible School that will feed and entertain them between 6-8:30 PM for the next several days ? Did I mention that one mother is a lapsed Methodist and the other is agnostic, bordering on athiest? It should also be noted that the children are all asking questions of late about God and Jesus and the mothers are ill-prepared to answer the questions. Would it be bad if said girlfriends went to a Mexican restaurant for margaritas or got pedicures while the kids were at VBS?

Discuss.

Morbid Thoughts on Death

2009-05-31T21:19:00.002-05:00

I have spent the better part of today on a “goldfish death watch.” I volunteered to adopt the goldfish that had been in Ella’s class when school ended for the summer. We have had them for two weeks and one is not long for this world. I can’t tell if it is Orange or Carrot who is going to be dead within the next few hours since they are impossible to tell apart. The poor fish is lethargically floating along the bottom of the bowl while the other races around like a maniac. When I was a kid and had fish, they would die overnight. A lot of times, I found them on the floor because they had jumped out of the bowl. I would take a spatula, pry them off the floor, walk to the toilet and send them packing. I’ve been out of sorts all day because I don’t know what the proper protocol is for a fish that is sure to die, but isn’t dead yet.

I probably wouldn’t be so sad if it weren’t for the fact that both of our dogs are starting to have some worrisome medical problems. Bosco had a malignant tumor removed from the top of his head a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, the surgeon didn’t remove the entire tumor when he operated. To get it all would involve removing his entire ear. At this point, the vet said that the tumor is a slow-growing one, so it may be awhile before we have to do something drastic like remove his ear. He also mentioned that if it gets worse that we should consider radiation therapy.

While the tumor stuff was happening with Bosco, Linus started to slightly drag his back legs. I mentioned it to the vet when I took him on his wellness visit. Of course, Linus didn’t drag his legs that day, so the vet wasn’t too concerned at the time and said that Linus was in excellent health for a 10-year-old Boxer. Most Boxers don’t live past 10, so every day one lives past that is a great thing. We have watched Linus get a little worse each day. Last week, he fell over while he was in the middle of doing in business in the backyard. I called the vet and got him in that afternoon. This time, the vet could see that Linus was in distress. He kept him overnight to do some tests. The diagnosis is that he has a herniated disc. Initially, I didn’t think that sounded so bad. I thought there might be a pill. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case.

The vet put Linus on an intravenous steroid and sent him home. Even though I kept him sedentary, he was worse than when I had taken him to the vet. At this point, the vet said that the only thing that will cure Linus is surgery. The cost of the surgery would be close to $3000. Corey and I talked about it and we have decided that we will not have it done. It would be different if he was young. However, there is no guarantee that this wouldn’t happen again. So what this means is that Linus is eventually going to lose mobility in the back of his legs. We don’t know how long that will be, but it is eminent. I asked the vet if Linus was in pain right now. He said it is difficult to tell because Boxers are stoic and have such a high pain tolerance, that it may be quite awhile before it becomes evident that he is in pain. For now, he is having a lot of trouble on our wood floors, and occasionally doing the splits. He is confused and it upsets him. I try to calm him down while I pick him up to get his legs upright again. I am hoping that purchasing some runners to put down in the hallways will help him out for the time being. However, my heart is broken.

I know that it is not practical to spend this kind of money on two dogs who are entering their twilight years. However, I feel as though I am turning my back on them. These two dogs have brought me so much happiness and comfort, that it doesn’t seem right that I am not doing everything I can to keep them whole. It was so much easier to decide what to do when our first dog was sick. McBain had developed seizures suddenly when he turned four. We eventually found out that he had an inoperable brain tumor. Corey and I had always felt strongly about not letting a dog suffer, so we had him put to sleep on December 20, 2000. Every December 20, I cry like a baby because I miss him so. We still have his ashes because I have been too afraid to scatter them for fear that we will move again. It’s a good thing, since we have moved about 6 times since he died. But at the end of the day, I know we did the right thing because we knew he was suffering. Had there been a chance that surgery would have helped, we would have done it in a heartbeat. He was young. Young.

So now, I am crying over the goldfish bowl, thinking that I have brought these poor fish into this home of certain death. I literally don’t know what to do with the fish. It is sort of lying on the sea glass and it’s clear that he’s having trouble breathing. If I flush him now, I’m a murderer, right? Frankly, I am already feeling like one where my dogs are concerned. It is a horrible, horrible feeling.

The Bride Wore Aubergine; the Groom Wore a Kilt and a Grin

2009-05-30T13:38:00.026-05:00

Corey and I had the pleasure of spending last weekend in Pittsburgh attending the wedding of our friend Erin and her now-husband Brian. My girls call Erin, "Fairy Godmother Erin," and for good reason. Erin is an actress, a director, a teacher, and self-proclaimed, "High Priestess of Boogie." Fairy Godmother Erin is like no other woman I have ever known.

Every friend we made in Pittsburgh was because of our friend Angel from college. Angel's friends welcomed us with open arms when we moved to Pittsburgh back in 1996. I remember being instantly intimidated by all of them. They were all REALLY smart. And interesting. And well-read. And opinionated. They also knew so much about, well, everything I didn't. I remember telling Corey after meeting them all for the first time, "There is NO WAY we are going to fit in with them. I couldn't POSSIBLY talk to them about ANYTHING!"

But I was so glad to be wrong. This group of friends also turned out to be some of the kindest, funniest and entertaining people I know. We have vacationed with them countless times over the years, eaten with them no less than 1000 times, played a lot of poker, watched some of them get married, shared in their joy when they have had babies, shared in their sadness when they have lost their parents, siblings, children and pets. And Erin is one of these friends. After showing the girls the photos of the wedding, Ella decided that Fairy Godmother Erin's husband should be named, "Prince Brian." I am sure he'll be thrilled.

When Erin and Brian announced their engagement, Corey and I knew it would not a traditional Irish Catholic wedding. It was waaaay better than that.

Bagpipe player at the entrance.

Angel is in the black and white dress with her daughter! Red Pen Mama is there with the flowered dress!

One of the kids' tables at the reception. The other kids' table was the "Hogwart" table. The Legoland table was a hit. Some of the kids made a sign that said, "Just Hitched" out of legos.

Brian and Erin's dance...

Erin and Brian singing, "Tupelo Honey" to each other while all of us held hands in a huge circle around them.***

Corey was all dignified and serious until...

...Stevo gave Corey and JJ shots of Maker's Mark. Then things started to go downhill...

Congrats to the Happy Couple!

*** To the three readers of my blog who were at the wedding, you may be thinking, "Huh, those pictures look like they could be mine." You're right. In addition to you all being smarter than I am, you also have better cameras (or better photographic abilities) than I do. Thanks to Stevo, Dawn and Erin.

I Love This Man

2009-05-24T22:22:00.008-05:00

He knows I just took my pill, but he asks if I have taken it anyway. He watches me look out the window and sees my eyes widen when I spot that our plane is a tiny prop plane.

"It will be OK, Honey. Think of it as, 'easy on, easy off.'"

We have been through this so many times before. He could tell me that I have been on well over 150 flights (most without him) and that I should be sucking it up already. But he doesn't. He should go up to the gate agent and request a seat far away from me, but he doesn't. Instead, he strokes my leg and tells me that we will be home soon and that it will all be fine.

I want to be brave, really I do. I never used to fear flying--I LOVED it. That all changed Christmas Week, 1994. I was flying from Baltimore to St. Louis to attend the funeral of my cousin, who had just taken his life. I was on a Southwest flight. It was a strange plane because I was in the front row, but a row of seats faced me, like a bus. When we landed, we landed so violently that my seat belt and the seat belt of the woman next to me broke and we slammed into the people who were facing us. I ended up hurting a tiny child. I will never get the sight of her bleeding from her head out of my mind's eye. A couple of days later, when I was preparing to go back to Baltimore, I had a panic attack and didn't want to get on the plane. A fear was born.

I have done a lot to get rid of this stupid fear of mine. I took two jobs in the past that required me to travel extensively, thinking that would force me to get over my fear. That theory was shot down in flames. I currently take pills, but they might as well be a placebo as they don't really do much. I manage to keep it together when I fly alone. I don't cry, I don't make a scene. But when we fly together, I fall apart (quietly, of course, so that I don't bother the other passengers. I mean, why be labelled a freak, afterall?!)

I think he just knows that it is his job to keep me from having a nervous breakdown when dealing with the only thing I fear. Actually, flying is not truly my only fear. I have been pretty successful in not encountering many clowns in our nearly 18 years together. And I typically stay out of oceans. Unfortunately, airplanes are a necessary evil since we are so far from anywhere we want to go and anyone we want to see.

He always reaches for my hand as we prepare to take off. He holds my hand until I feel comfortable enough to let go. Occasionally, I let go immediately. Usually, I will grip his strong hand with my sweaty one for a much longer time, depending on turbulence. One time, he claimed that I almost broke his hand, but he waited until the next day to tell me.

When the turbulence is so bad and he sees my lip quivering, he assures me that everything is totally fine and that the pilot is getting above the turbulence. Then the plane levels off and all is well. There have been a few flights that were so frightening for me that he never got up to go to the bathroom. That is HUGE since he has a bladder the size of a mouse. I am sure he was tortured, but he never complained.

He is not perfect. No spouse is. I often joke that his inability to react in emergency situations will probably cause my death. If I ever have a stroke or a heart attack, I will be screwed, because he will probably be looking at me and trying to decide if I am being overly dramatic or not. But the one thing that does make him perfect is what he does when we fly together. And that is one of the many reasons why I love him.

Hausfrau Update

2009-05-15T08:09:00.013-05:00

Things have been quite nuts around here. The perpetual rains of the past few weeks have caused the girls' baseball and soccer games to be cancelled numerous times. Their seasons are supposed to end at the end of the month, but it isn't looking good for Ella. Her team will outgrow their uniforms before their season ends. Genna's soccer team actually gave up this afternoon and gave out the team photos and trophies in the pouring rain because the last scheduled game was cancelled.

When it isn't raining, we are running around doing yard work and gardening. I probably would have had a much more productive garden had I planted rice. My tomatoes, peppers, watermelon and broccoli are just not thriving.

School will be over for Ella this Thursday. It is shocking to me that just a few months ago, I was crying over sending her off to kindergarten. Now, she will be going into first grade in August. I have changed my work schedule a bit and will have both girls home with me on Tuesdays and Fridays this summer. Ella will go to a day camp and Genna will continue to go to daycare. I'll still work the same number of hours--they just won't be stretched out over as many days.

Corey and I were in New York two weekends ago. Corey had a meeting there, and suggested that I join him the weekend before to celebrate his 40th birthday. He was blissfully unaware that in the weeks prior to our trip, I planned for our good friends, Amy and Michael, to join us in the city for a day. I also planned a surprise birthday dinner! My friend Mark helped me plan where to go. It only makes sense since it is his job to REALLY know the restaurants in New York. We had the dinner at Craftbar . Corey was in shock when he saw Mark at the bar, because he thought that only Amy and Michael were joining us for dinner. Then he saw our friends Lisa and Albert from New Jersey walk in. Then our friend Lori from Bethlehem came in as well. After calling me a "Lying sack of shit" (NICE!) he did later admit that it was his best birthday ever.

This weekend, we are heading to Pittsburgh for a wedding. Our dear friend Erin is getting married! We are so excited to be coming for so many reasons. First and foremost, ERIN! Secondly, we are going to see our Pittsburgh friends, which should be nothing short of awesome. We still miss Pittsburgh and probably always will.

When we return from Pittsburgh, I have to start getting serious about planning for the Hopkins Family Odyssey. What's that you ask? Why I'll be glad to tell you. A couple of months ago, I got it in my head that it would be a great idea to take the girls on a three-week road trip before schools starts on August 10 (not sure that I've told my boss yet, hmmmm). At any rate, we will head north to Indiana to visit my mom, the go to Michigan to see my sister before she gives birth, then I will go into Canada to visit my friend Katy for a few days. After that, we will go to Maine for several days to visit our friends. At that point, Corey plans to fly to Maine and drive with me the rest of the way home. We will make stops in New Jersey, Philadelphia, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, and then home.

After telling lots of people of my grand plan, it started to sound like a lot of driving. For me. Not quite sure why I didn't really pick up on that initially. At any rate, the only real planning I need to do (aside from getting the time off from work) is to get passports for the girls. That will involve Corey coming with me in person to apply for them since both parents have to do it together. And now because I have dragged my ass to get it done, I am praying I get the passports in time. Corey is trying to convince me to cut the trip short and skip Indiana, Michigan and Canada, but I don't know. I really wanted to do that part of the trip.

Corey found out recently that he (which automatically means "we") are going to Dubai in February. Corey's going there for a conference. I am going for no other reason but to be a tourist. We are staying here, so I am sure that will be a crazy experience! We can't wait. Our plans to go to Europe this spring fizzled, so this will allow us to go somewhere really amazing. I do hope to be able to see some of the not-so-new parts of the city.

All of this daydreaming of travel sure beats my reality. I guess it is time to get back to doing some laundry, picking up the house and going to bed at 9:00 PM the way I usually do!

Mother's Day Gift

2009-05-11T11:24:00.004-05:00

I can't really complain about my Mother's Day. It was trumped by my husband's 40th birthday, but I was totally fine with that. While I had a busy morning, I did enjoy naptime by watching several episodes of Clean House, one of my all-time favorite shows.

I received a gift from Ella. It is a cookbook that was made by her kindergarten teacher. All of the mothers had been asked to submit their child's favorite recipe. Then the teacher asked each child to describe how his or her mother prepares the recipe. The book is adorable, but I LOVE the intro:

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to reapply some icing. Ella will be home soon.

Overheard

2009-05-07T12:35:00.003-05:00

Earlier this week, the girls were in the bathtub and I was desperately cleaning house in preparation for my aunt and uncle to arrive. Corey was out of town, so I was running around like a lunatic. I was tuning out the shrieking--what do I care? They're in the tub!

Note to self--never tune out shrieking. When one tunes out shrieking, one is also tuning out any ACTIONS taking place, such as footsteps, water running, and on and on.

I came upstairs and saw a bare bottom race past me. Said bare bottom leaped into the bathtub. There was water EVERYWHERE. The bare bottom belonged to Ella. Ella knows better. When I asked her (more like screamed) why on earth she was running around and getting the entire bathroom wet instead of , well, bathing, she said that Genna told her to do it. Genna, the four- year-old, told Ella the six-year-old to run back and forth to the sink, fill buckets of water and THROW them on Genna. Because Genna told her to.

This sort of thing happens every.single.day. Genna calls the shots. Ella knows that Genna's ideas are not good ones, but she is compelled to follow Genna's lead. Ella does Genna's bidding. It's going to be a big problem in a few years.

After yelling at both of them, I singled Ella out and told her that as the older sister, she KNOWS better than to listen to ANY of Genna's ideas because they always turn out poorly. Looking back, that was a really rude thing to say. But I did. Sue me. I then shut the bathroom door and sat on the toilet to calm down while they stood outside.

There was a knock at the door.

"Mommy?" Ella sniffed. "I have to tell you something. Sometimes I get these really bad ideas in my head and I am not doing a good job of ignoring them. I am so sorry and I promise I won't listen to my bad ideas or ANY of Genna's ideas anymore."

And then Ella spoke to Genna:

"Genna, you need to stop having bad ideas in your head. When you get them, shake your head so they will go away. If they don't go away, do NOT say the ideas out loud to me. I don't want to hear them. You keep getting me in trouble."

Then Genna spoke up:

"Hey Ella--let's stand on the train table and spin around and around and get really dizzy."

"COOL! OK!"

An April Morning In Tennessee

2009-04-26T11:31:00.005-05:00

A Memo to the Easter Bunny

2009-04-13T14:01:00.005-05:00

To: Easter Bunny
FROM: Misfit Hausfrau
DATE: April 13, 2009
RE: Next Year's Easter Egg Hunt

While the girls were more than satisfied with the quantity of Easter Eggs found on the front lawn this year, we do need to address the quality of the candy inside of said Easter Eggs. The candy in the eggs, quite frankly, was much too good for the girls' untrained palettes.

There was no need for Reese's Peanut Butter Miniatures and Hershey Chocolate Eggs. In addition, they did not need the Lindt Chocolate "Carrots," Cadbury Eggs and Reese's Peanut Butter Eggs (again with the Reese's!) in their Easter Baskets. Such delicious candy is proving to be hazardous to the inhabitants of the house when the girls are in bed, in school, or not within earshot of the kitchen, which is the current location of the girls' stashes.

In the future, please purchase hard candies or things like jelly beans and Skittles. The girls will be just as happy since they only see candy twice a year. The asses and guts of the adults in our home will thank you as well.

A Hurting Heart

2009-04-08T14:47:00.009-05:00

It's hard to say how I have found my favorite blogs. About a year ago, I came across a blog with a photo of one of the most beautiful children I have ever seen. I am not kidding. I love my girls and think they are adorable. I love my friends' children and think they are all adorable too. But this little girl, what a beauty! The bluest blue eyes and candy apple cheeks that were probably squeezed by every old lady who encountered her. Her smile was so stinking cute, I couldn't stand it. Her mother and father both had blogs and I read them regularly. Essentially, I started reading a couple of blogs because of a breathtaking child. I think that is saying a lot since I don't get really mushy about other people's children--especially children I have never met.

This child, Maddie, was born very prematurely. Their blogs chronicled their lives with Maddie, including the medical challenges that Maddie faced. Over time, Mike stopped his blog because he became really busy with a new job, but I kept reading Heather's blog.

Yesterday, Heather wrote that Maddie had been taken to the hospital because she had been having respiratory problems all weekend and hadn't gotten better. Heather sent updates on Twitter throughout the afternoon. I got concerned when her last update was this:

"They're going to intubate her, I'm freaking out"

And then she was gone.

I can't even begin to fathom the enormity of Heather and Mike's grief. I cannot begin to imagine the feeling of drowning, the burning sadness, the aching in their hearts. Parents shouldn't outlive their children. Parents shouldn't outlive their babies.

Mike and Heather are very active in the March of Dimes and plan to be a part of an event at the end of the month. Please consider clicking on the widget below and sending a donation in Maddie's memory. It has been so good to see that there is considerably more than the $3000 that was pledged as of this morning.

But I Don't FEEL 40!

2009-04-04T07:51:00.002-05:00

I woke up on the morning of April 1st and was 40 years old. I didn't feel older, although I think I saw a few fine lines that were not on my face the night before. I'd like to think that the Vitamin E oil I am rubbing into my face every night is working, but I can't tell for sure.

I have looked forward to this day for a long time. Honestly, I never thought it would come. As a kid, I put it in my head that I would never marry, never have children and die before I turned 40. It's a good thing I didn't become a psychic. I would have been out of business within a week.

I started celebrating my 40th birthday in February with a Girlie Weekend in Mexico. In the back of my morbid head, I thought there was still time to not actually live to April 1, so why not do the celebrating early. It also helped that it was President's Day Weekend and we got cheap flights.

I didn't really freak out until the gifts started coming in on the day of my birthday. And the phone calls. I got phone calls from relatives who NEVER call me on my birthday. I got really cute gifts from my neighbors. My friend Amy flew to Nashville to surprise me the weekend before. My friend Katy called a spa near my home and set up a spa package for me. Even Corey went over the top with a beautiful (but too expensive) piece of jewelry. When I told Corey that that the trip to Mexico was gift enough, he said, "But it's your 40th birthday. This is a BIG DEAL."

A Big Deal. I realized on Tuesday that the "Big Deal" about turning 40 is the realization is that life is going by FAST. Too fast. My first 18 years went by at a pace that was torturous. I thought I would never turn 18 and escape from my hometown, escape my life. The last 20 years have positively flown by. I can only imagine how fast the coming years will come and go. That's what scares me. I'm having a pretty good time right now. I have a good life. I love and am loved. I just don't want that to end.

On the One Hand, I'm a Dumbass. On the Other Hand, Well, I'm Still a Dumbass.

2009-03-13T14:16:00.008-05:00

Last week, I got my Capital One Annual Summary of all of the purchases we put on our credit card for 2008. It pains me to read through it every year because it amazes me how much we put on our credit card. And while we pay off the balance every month, 2008 was a particularly rough year for the ol' credit card. I mean that literally--she is bent, and the numbers are filed down from use--no lie. I was filling up my gas tank up to three times a week because my Xterra gets about 18 miles to the gallon and I was driving 130 miles a day, 3 days a week. My EZ-Pass was $70 every three weeks. Keep in mind, at this time last year, gas was starting to creep up in the $3 to almost $4 per gallon range.

In addition to my commuting expenses, we had a lot of major purchases because of our move (Hellooooooo Sears Kitchen Appliance Department!) We also had a mountain of expenses pertaining to the move that were reimbursed. And, to be honest, there are a significant number of frivolous or just plain stupid purchases that were made on that card. And don't even get me started with Continental Airlines. They have almost $700 of my money because of two plane tickets I purchased last summer (for me and Genna) literally minutes before Corey told me our house was sold and we needed to postpone my trip to Indiana with Genna and go find a home in Nashville. Did you know that once a ticket is purchased that even if you cancel the trip, the new tickets purchased must be for the original people on the original tickets? Every time I try to book my old ticket, it gets screwed up and the credit still exists. AND it costs an additional $150 to change the original ticket?! I'd like to use my credit in April when I go to New York, but the flights are almost cheaper than the $150 it would take to change the $336 ticket I previously purchased. AND, I would have to pay $50 for a customer service rep to book my travel over the phone since their website can't seem to ever find my old ticket. Flights from Nashville to Newark are about $180 currently.

So back to my summary. The grand total is almost my salary for last year, which was a good year, even though I was part time. I skimmed through the pages of purchases that were broken down by category, $8891.64 spent on gas/automotive, $5497.80 for travel, blah,blah,blah. Then, I noticed a category for , "Monthly Bills/Internet." I noticed a $15.00 charge for Classmates.com. I rolled my eyes at that one. Who needs Classmates.com when there is facebook now? How is Classmates.com even surviving? Glad I cancelled that. Then I noticed a $69.99 charge for Register.com made on 9/21. I had never heard of Register.com, so I decided to check them out on the internet. It turns out that Register.com is a web hosting site. While I have this blog, I don't pay for it, so I knew this was a mistake. I couldn't believe I didn't notice this on September's credit card statement. I went ahead and called the website, thinking this was some huge mistake and that I would get my money back.

Me: Hi! My name is Dawnan, and I just noticed that I got charged $69.99 by you guys and I don't have an account with you so...

Mohammed (Cust Service Rep#1): OK, I need your email address to pull up your account.

Me: OK, it is xxxxx@yahoo.com.

M(CSR#1): Umm, we don't have an account with that email address.

Me: Well, that's good. That means I really don't have an account with you all, so how 'bout I get my money back?

M(CSR#1): Actually, Ma'am, I'll need to pull up this account by your credit card number.

Me: Well, OK, it is xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx

M(CSR#1): Got it. Now, what did you say your email address is?

Me: It's xxxxx@yahoo.com.

M(CSR#1): Umm, so you don't have the email address, wero8745io@yahoo.com (I forget exactly what it was, he rattled it off too fast.)

Me: Uh, no. Whose name is on the account? Please tell me that the people who used my credit card number didn't sign up a porn site.

M(CSR#1): (Laughing) No, they didn't put up a porn site. They actually didn't even put up a site at all.

Me: Well, then who in the hell used my card?

M(CSR#1):Ummmm, I need to put you on hold. I'll be back.

Hold music... Not Herb Alpert...I'm getting sleepy...

(CSR#2): Thank you for calling Register.com. My name is Tom/Dick/Harry. May I help you?

ME: Are you kidding me? Where's Mohammed? I just spent 10 minutes on the phone with Mohammed. Do I have to start all over again?

(CSR#2): Why don't you give me your account number?

Me: But I don't HAVE an account number! Someone used my credit card number in September to set up an account on your site, but it isn't mine. I want my money back.

(CSR#2): OK, I will need the credit card number then.

Me: Argh. Ok, here it is: xxxx-xxxx-xxxx-xxxx.

(CSR#2): Ok, got it. I see the charge. I will go ahead and remove your credit card number so it won't be used in the future and we will shut down the account.

Me: So who opened up an account with my credit card?

(CSR#2): I can't tell you that.

Me: WHY NOT? Someone stole my credit card number in September and used it to purchase a bogus site through your company. I deserve to know the name. Mohammed told me the email address, so why can't you tell me the name?

(CSR#2):He told you the email address? He wasn't supposed to tell you ANYTHING! Look, what happens if it turns out that it was your neighbor who stole the credit card number and you go and punch them out. I'm the one that gets sued, not you! I'm not going to be liable. This happens all the time. Someone steals a credit card number, they use our site to see if the credit card number will go through, If it does, then they start shopping.

Me: Wait, WHAT? Let me get this straight. YOU are PROTECTING the thieves? Are you going to turn this information over to the police?

(CSR#2): (Laughter) Not without a warrant I'm not.

Me: So when can I expect my money back?

(CSR#2): (More laughter) Ma'am, you're going to have to take this up with your credit card company.

Me: Well, what if I said I wanted a refund because your web hosting sucks? Then I could have my refund, right?

(CSR#2): Ma'am this $69.99 charge from September is a renewal charge. The account was originally opened September 21 of 2007.

Me: Wait, WHAT? 2007? So I have actually paid $140 to Register.com in the past two years?

(CSR#2): Looks that way. You may want to start looking at your credit card statem-

Phone is slammed on the desk.

It's bad enough to not notice the charge form September. To not notice the original charge is inexcusable. We are lucky that these are the only fraudulent charges on our credit card. At this point, I have signed up to have our credit card statements mailed to us again. When I started to go green and had them emailed to me, I obviously started slacking. It will also be a lot easier to track our purchases on the credit card since I no longer commute and we are hardly putting anything on the credit card anymore. I am still feeling really, really stupid.

Mr.Wilson

2009-03-05T20:01:00.007-06:00

Almost every neighborhood has one. You know, the annoying neighbor who is always looking out the front windows and watching the children play, "stick war" or "hostage." If this neighbor feels the kids are too rough, this neighbor will yell from the porch for the shenanigans to stop--even though it is in someone else's yard. This neighbor is always on the lookout for the car that is driving a little too slowly through the neighborhood, and stares at the person driving from the front porch. This neighbor yells, "Where's your helmet, Joey?" when Joey drives his ATV without a helmet down the street. This same neighbor reports other neighbors to the HOA when their dogs bark outside in the freezing cold at all hours of the day and night . Based on my description, one would think that this utter crab ass is Mr.Wilson from, "Dennis the Menace."

Apparently, I am the Mr. Wilson of my neighborhood.

It should be noted that Corey and I have completely hit the lottery as far as neighborhoods are concerned. Up until now, we have only made friends with one set of neighbors out of the countless places we have lived in 15 years. However, I can honestly say that we like almost all 30 families in our neighborhood (with a few exceptions.) Bottom line: almost all of our neighbors are really good people. I can give you an example: Last Friday, I was stuck at the gyno for more than two hours. I was in a panic because I needed to pick up my daughter from school at 3:25, it was 2:45, I was 30 minutes away from school and I hadn't even gotten into the paper robe yet. I placed one call to my neighbor Carrie and asked her if it was her turn to carpool a group of kids home from school. Even though it wasn't, she made a series of calls to the moms of the neighborhood, and picking up Ella from school was a done deal. Not a problem.

I can give you another example: our neighbor, who is coaching a t-ball team, was kind enough to draft Ella for his team. Even after he saw her try out. He did it because his wife told him to. His team won the championship last year. Now that is just plain neighborly. I have never experienced that in a neighborhood before and I like it. I love it. I love my neighborhood.

So why am I Mr. Wilson? Good question. First of all, I freely admit that I am an uptight Yankee. I previously parented in New Jersey, PA and Ohio. In these places, parents sometimes participated in the, "forced fun play dates." These were tightly controlled scenarios where children were only allowed to play in an enclosed area that the parents could scan every square inch. Children are not allowed to even THINK about leaving their yards until they are 10 because the world is a big scary place.

Our new neighborhood is an entirely different world. I am not sure if it is indicative of Tennessee or not, but the children in our neighborhood roam the streets like packs of wild animals. And when I say children, I mean children as young as three years old. Our first week in the new house, I was startled by a large gang of kids who were in the middle of our street. Four boys were on bikes, the others on foot. Then came an ATV, ridden by a boy without a helmet. I ran to the back of the house and stuttered to my husband, "Wwwwwhhhere have you moved us? There are children. Middle of the street. Playing. No Helmets. Death. OhmyGOD!"

It has taken several months to get comfortable with the idea of Ella gallivanting in the neighborhood the way the other kids do. While I love the fact that these kids are outside playing the way I did as a kid, I am still nervous. I so want my kids to have a carefree childhood, where they explore and have adventures. It's just that I want their adventures to happen in our yard. I am trying to let go and give Ella freedom, but it is difficult.

The dirt bikes and ATVs, however, absolutely drive me nuts. No one has enough yard to properly ride them, so they take them to the streets. Only one child wears a helmet. I worry every day that the other kids are going to get hurt--especially when I see one kid on the ATV with another one standing behind him on the seat, covering his eyes so he can't see where he is driving. I did a whole lot of yelling from my porch on that one.

I never actually worried about Ella getting hurt because she is afraid of anything that moves. She doesn't even like riding her bike because she's afraid. So to see her standing on an ATV on Tuesday and driving it down the street without a helmet made me absolutely lose.my.shit. After screaming for her to get in the house and go to her room , I realized that I couldn't actually punish her because I have never told her that she couldn't ride an ATV. And as far as driving it standing up, she was only doing what all the other kids were doing.

The other issue that has totally turned me into the neighborhood Mr. Wilson pertains to a certain family a few doors down. They were nice enough to introduce themselves to me the first couple of weeks we were here. They are pastors of a church and have a teenager. Once they said they were pastors I was immediately on guard, thinking they would recruit. Once I found out that their church services are done only in Spanish, I realized that they wouldn't not be knocking on my door and inviting me to services. What is bothering me about them is their dogs. They have a dachshund who frequently escapes the house. Instead of catching him, they leave him to freeze (this has happened four times since November that I know of.) Did I mention that he barks nonstop?

After the latest debacle with their barking dog, I finally reported them to the HOA last week and a letter was going to their home. The next time it happens, I will call animal control. These people obviously shouldn't own dogs if they aren't prepared to chase them down the street at 7:00 AM.

I am trying to relax. I really am. It's just that it isn't working.

On Having a Can-Do Attitude

2009-02-28T13:43:00.013-06:00

I say the word, "no" to my kids. A lot. And they don't like it; particularly Ella. She is getting to the age where kids she knows have cool stuff (or access to it) that she is never.going.to.have. Genna is right there with her. It's not that I get any type of joy in saying no to my girls--it's just that I don't want them to ever feel that they are entitled.

In the past few weeks, Ella has said that she would like her own laptop, a clubhouse, and her own television. She has since taken matters into her own hands.

Ella made a clubhouse (with Corey's help.)

Ella made a laptop. It even says, "Dell" on the lid.

Ella then made a television, with a remote control and installed it in her closet.

And then, she installed a television for her sister in her closet:

I love that my daughter isn't going to let the word, "no" get in the way of getting what she wants!

Marriage and Mermaids

2009-02-27T09:38:00.004-06:00

Last week, we were all in the car when Ella asked a question I had been dreading.

"Mommy, when can I get married?"

"When you're 30," I said.

"How about when I'm 39?" said Ella.

"Even better."

"Or, when your post-graduate studies are completed," said Corey.

I looked at Corey. "But I never completed a post-graduate program."

"Well, you shouldn't have gotten married."

"Nice."

"But Mommy, Ariel was 16 years old when she married Prince Eric. Why can't I get married when I turn 16?"

"Well," I said. "That's because Ariel was a mermaid. You're a human."

"Yeah, but she got legs and became a human."

"Yes, Ella, but she was BORN a mermaid. Even though she got legs, she was still a mermaid, so that's why she got to get married."

I turned to see Ella with her arms crossed and a, "hmph" look on her face.

"Well, when am I getting swim lessons?"

"Soon," I said. "But that isn't going to make you into a mermaid. You have to be BORN a mermaid."

And then a fight erupted in the back seat when Genna piped up by saying in a sing-songy voice, 'You can't get married, you can't get married."

Girlie Weekend!

2009-02-25T09:01:00.011-06:00

While I love to go on trips with my husband, I loves me some Girlie Weekends! I have had the good fortune of taking part in an established Girlie Weekend every July for about 10 or so years. Historically, we have always gone to Rehoboth Beach, DE. This time, I decided to mix it up a bit since I am turning 40 in a couple of months. I decided on Isla Mujeres, Mexico and went with two of my girlfriends.

Isla Mujeres is a 5-mile long island off the coast of Cancun. We took the ferry there. It is a very relaxed place with a couple of resorts, but mostly small hotels, bed and breakfasts and homes.

The trip was all kinds of awesome. The first night, my friend Lori and I stayed at Casitas del Mar, a cute little apartment run by a couple named Joyce and Bob. We had a view of the ocean from across the street. The rest of the time we stayed at Villa La Bella, a cute bed and breakfast right on the Caribbean. My friend Katy was able to join us last minute, so we had to find her other accommodations since there was a limit of two per room in both places. Joyce from the Casitas hooked Katy up with a master suite apartment in a fabulous private home owned by an adorable couple in their 70s from Tennessee. The pictures of these places just do not do them justice. Also, you need to keep in mind that we paid next to NOTHING for these places. The Casita was $85 for the night, the B&B was $150 (we had the honeymoon suite because it was all sold out) and the place where Katy stayed was $75 per night. Katy's room was so beautiful was that she actually cried.

Lori, Katy and I spent the entire time drinking Sol, margaritas and pina coladas, exploring, finding sea glass (I brought home a five pound bag of it!) and stuffing our faces with the cheapest and absolute best authentic Mexican food we have ever had in our lives. We rented a golf cart for two days and drove around the island like fools and got to see some really neat things. We went snorkeling, which for me was huge. While I love going to the ocean, I fear it and I am not a good swimmer. I was convinced the life jacket I was wearing was going to fall off of me because two of the three clasps were broken. Eventually, I got off the boat and was amazed by the fishies.

We walked away happy and relaxed. We have a couple of great stories as well. One of my favorites was about the little pottery store that we walked into on Thursday. The lady who ran the store ran up to Katy and told her that her mama painted all of the pottery in the store and even produced a photo of her slaving away on the pottery. Lori and Katy settled on very distinctive huge plates to hang in their kitchens and I got a fish-shaped plate with the Mayan calendar on it. We haggled and each got a "gift with purchase." Of course it didn't really surprise anyone when we saw Katy's one-of-a-kind plate in the next store for $10 less.

The absolute best story isn't really mine to tell, but since Katy doesn't have a blog anymore, I'll share. When Katy asked the couple she stayed with what they did for a living before they retired in Mexico, they didn't really answer. They did mention to Katy that they lived on a "houseboat" for 12 years, but sold it and and bought the house in Mexico because their grandchildren didn't want to visit them anymore on the boat and thought they were weirdos for living on a boat. We decided that their grandchildren were wretched brats who didn't deserve these sweet people. At any rate, they were kind enough to give Katy a ride to the ferry at 6:30 AM on Saturday so that she could catch her flight home. In the car, the man said, "You know how you asked me what I did for a living before we moved to Mexico? Well, I used to be a truck driver, but I couldn't find any good places to eat on the road, so I opened up a chain of restaurants. You may have heard of it--Cracker Barrel."

And the houseboat he and his wife lived on was a yacht.

An Open Letter

2009-02-23T13:27:00.010-06:00

To My Fellow Passengers on Sunday's Flight CO2471 (Houston to Nashville), Rows 1-7:

Seriously, what the FUCK!? I know that an airplane in-flight is loud. Very loud. However, it doesn't mean that a person should think that continuously farting during a two hour flight is OK. Let's be clear: it is NEVER OK. It miraculously didn't smell when the flight attendant came down the aisle to issue snacks and drinks, so Stinky McCrappypants KNEW that he/she was being an asshole, in addition to smelling like one. The smell did eventually stop after I kept exclaiming, "OH MY GOD!"

I spent the entire flight narrowing down who could have possibly allowed this hot-dog-water-then-canned-nacho-cheese-then-dead-animal-stuck-in-your-ass-until-you-can't-hold-it-in-another-second-so-let-er-rip-on-the-plane stench to waft over the front of the plane. There were 20 suspects. Let me first start off by saying that it wasn't me (8A). It also wasn't the British couple in 8B and C. They were gagging right along with me, as were their daughters in 7B and C. And while this may sound sexist, I truly believe that there is no possible way that this chemical warfare came from a female over the age of two. I say that because this offensive rot was definitely from the fart subcategory, the SHART. There was shit in that fart, people. A woman would just never do that. That said, that ruled out 1A, 2A, 4A, 4B, 4C, 5A, 5C and 6B.

In addition, I ruled out the man in 3B. I am pretty sure he was Avery Brooks, one of my all-time favorite men of mystery on one of my favorite 80's detective dramas, "Spenser for Hire." You may remember Hawk, Spenser's friend and mysterious confidant. He was a man of few words, but very efficient in taking care of problems. There is no way that Hawk expels gas. I am certain that had Hawk been sitting in my seat, he would have calmly found his Magnum hidden in his briefcase, and capped the ass of the fool who was committing this criminal activity.

At any rate, that leaves five individuals who could have inflicted this torture. I have a feeling it was the person directly in front of me. Let's call him Euro-gibber. He was nothing but trouble the minute he got on the flight and it never stopped. He jibber-jabbered on his cell phone so that all 200 passengers on the plane could hear--thanks! He also cornered the flight attendant after take-off to vent his frustration on the 20 minute delay we experienced prior to take-off. He then went on a rant about his entire travel experience, remarking that everyone at Continental is stupid. When are people going to learn that one should NEVER piss off a flight attendant?! Did he really think she as going to be sympathetic or attempt to help him when he just called her and her brethren STUPID? I noticed that there was no stench while that was going on.

I exacted revenge on Euro-gibber by giving him a flat tire. It was the best thing I could come up with since millions of my brain cells were destroyed on the flight. His glare wasn't nearly as lethal as his stench.

You're Welcome,

Misfit Hausfrau

Adventures in Reading and Writing

2009-01-16T08:30:00.003-06:00

I distinctly remember only learning a couple of things when I was in kindergarten in 1976. I learned that one should not eat paste no matter how delicious it looks. I learned to share my toys. And most importantly, I learned that I should never pee my pants in class like ,"M" did when we got birthday spankings. Seriously, we got paddled. As in, we were put on our teachers knees, and paddled with a big wooden paddle while the kids in our class shouted out the number of spankings we got. "M," his twin, "J" and I shared the same birthday, so we got spanked at the same time. "M" peed his pants. I have no idea why I still remember that 34 years later, but I do. I can't remember which folder my Fixed Asset Report is in, but I can remember that "M". peed his pants on our 6th birthday.

Ella, on the other hand, is learning a lot of stuff. TONS. I am amazed that she is reading and starting to write sentences in her homemade paper and glue "diary." She will literally spend hours at the kitchen table, asking me to spell words for her so that she can write them out and learn them. We are so very proud of her and her achievements, but there are times when it is very difficult to not giggle or bust out laughing at her mistakes.

This week, Ella brought home some of the work she had done. I guess one particular assignment was writing rhyming words that end in -ar. On the paper she had car, far, bar, star and then the word, "cuntainer." The teacher wrote the word "jar" above it. I couldn't help it, it made me giggle.

Later on, we were playing a word bingo game. On one side of the bingo card is the picture, the other side is the word. We have Ella use the word side and match the words when they are called out. When she got the word, "brush," she did a very good job of sounding out the word phonetically:

"Buh buh, rrrrr, uhuhuh sssss,huhuhuh."

"Now put it all together honey, " I said.

"DOUCHE!" she bellowed proudly.

One look at Corey and it was over. We could.not.stop.laughing. I felt so bad because Ella knew we were laughing at her, but we just couldn't stop ourselves. I just pray that this isn't going to be one of those things that she remembers 34 years later.

Resolution #2

2009-01-05T14:44:00.004-06:00

With all of our moving, Corey and I thought we had been very good about not being total pack rats. Even if we had not been vagabonds, all it took was one look at my childhood home to know that I never wanted to be a pack rat. My mother grew up very poor, and has always had the "Great Depression" mentality of keeping every.single.thing. because one never knows when it will be needed again.

When I was growing up, the main living area of our home was immaculately clean. It was so neat and tidy that my mother would regularly have me make and remake and remake my bed over and over and over again until it met her exacting standards. The pack ratting and hoarding was limited to our partially finished basement. My father had made very deep shelves that housed hundreds of canned goods and packaged foods that could have fed an army. I figured out at a young age that people who don't have much to eat when they are young become obsessed with having enough when they are adults. Especially if they are really poor adults.

My mother was also a collector of some really strange stuff. At one point, she had every issue of National Geographic. She collected the December issues of every women's magazine she could get her hands on. My father also got in on the collection fun by collecting books and built up a rather impressive library in our basement--mostly of his college text books that would never be pulled off the shelves and opened again. When Mom would start a hobby, she would go into it with great gusto. The basement was full of fabrics, artificial flowers, yarns, embroidery floss, unpainted ceramics. There were piles of ribbons and wrapping paper that were neatly removed from Christmas boxes. We didn't really rip open presents the way most people do.

As I got older, the overflow of stuff moved upstairs. My grandmother moved into her own apartment when I was 12 or so. Instead of getting to move out of my sister's room and reclaiming my bedroom, it became the, "ironing room." Over the years, it filled up with piles of clothing, bedding, laundry baskets and the like. The basement became even more packed with stuff. It doesn't take much time to fill up a space when one saves every single box that comes into the home. Every night after dinner, my mother would send me downstairs to get the perfect plastic cottage cheese container and lid for leftovers. Or maybe it was a margarine container. I just remember the perfect towers of containers with corresponding lids, and dreading the prospect of having to go downstairs a second or third time because I didn't grab a properly sized container.

After my sister and I moved out of the house, it became worse and worse. It got to the point to where there were rooms that could not be entered. By this time, my mother had lost interest in housekeeping, so the house was a disaster.

When my father died and my mother became more and more sick, my sister and I begged her to sell the house. It took forever, but she sold the house, and sold the majority of its contents in a series of at least a dozen garage sales. She demanded top dollar for her items that reeked of cigarette smoke, age and lack of use. My sister and I were completely frustrated with the process. There were many visits where I would take things out of the house when she wasn't looking and throw them away.

At the time, I didn't give her nearly enough credit for parting with these things. This was a woman who had lived in her home for 35 years. Her home and these things were all she had. All I saw was a bunch of crap that my sister and I were going to have to deal with if she died. It was with much relief that she moved into a 600 sq.ft. apartment, where her existing overflowing crap is limited to just that space.

While she was going through the process of selling everything, my mother asked me to take some things like family photographs, a few pieces of furniture, some dishes and knickknacks. I complied because I knew I had room for the items because we had just bought a house and I understood that she didn't want family photos thrown in the trash. In the coming months, I would bring things back with me to New Jersey. She would ship items to me that had to sit in the garage to air out for a week because the packing peanuts smelled like cigarette smoke. Once the smell was gone, I would put everything in the basement.

When we moved to Cincinnati, I didn't open many boxes that had come from our New Jersey basement. It was a good thing since we only lived there for 15 months. Our house was much smaller in Belthehem, but it had a decent basement, so the boxes I hadn't opened in Cincinnati remained unopened in Pennsylvania.

We're back to having a larger house, but this time there is no basement. Boxes I could forget about no longer had a good place to go. I told the movers to put all of the boxes in our spare bedroom walk-in.

Yesterday, I made my way into the spare bedroom and started to open these boxes. I had no idea just how much stuff was in that closet. There are boxes of depression glass and milk glass candy dishes. They instantly reminded me of the holidays, when these bowls were filled with peanuts and starlight mints that stuck together after a few weeks of humid weather. I found silver tea sets for tea parties we don't have, and silver gravy boats and ladels for all of the gravy we don't eat. I found the box of all of the sympathy cards that my mother got after my father died. I am not sure what the appropriate amount of time is to keep items such as this. I threw all of them away, except for the sympathy letter from Dick Cheney (really) because that was just plain funny.

I was suprised to realize that I had boxes of our own memories that I hadn't dealt with in years. I haven't put a single photograph of my children into a photo album. Instead, they are mixed up and gathering dust in shoe boxes without lids with their edges curling. We still have an urn with the ashes of our first dog! I've never scattered them because I haven't been convinced that we would stay somewhere forever. I found a keepsake that I shouldn't even have--I don't even KNOW what to do with that! I also decided that collecting old trunks is not a very practical or fulfilling hobby if one doesn't actually refurbish them to be useable for storage.

I made a pretty good dent in the closet, but I found myself getting fairly choked up from time to time, mostly because of the photos. Seeing my father and mother during happier times made my heart ache. I found photos of my old college roommate, Steven. I found out that he had died a couple of months ago after a long illness. Seeing him being so silly in the photos of us together, riding a camel at the zoo made me profoundly sad.

I will be spending the coming weeks making some hard decisions about this stuff. I've joined Freecycle, got an Ebay account, contacted a consignment shop, and will probably scan the majority of the photos. I figure that I will sneak the proceeds into my mom's check book when she isn't looking. I'm not going to scatter McBain's ashes yet. Maybe I will once we have lived here more than two years and I feel comfortable that we will stay. Everything else can eventually go.

Break Time is OVAH! Time to Start Resolutin' !!!

2009-01-01T21:05:00.008-06:00

It has taken all of a week to realize that actually WRITING with a pen and paper takes a really long time. And it hurts my hand.

At any rate, I spent the past week spending time with family. There were no surprises, which is a good thing. There is comfort in knowing that the part of the trip that includes my mother-in-law will always be nice and that the part of the trip that includes my mother might not be. She didn't disappoint.

Going home means that there is a lot of time in the car. While I drove to and from the Hoosier State, I spent a lot of time reflecting on 2008. It also gave me time to think about how 2009 is going to be different. I am turning 40 on April 1st. Look out. I have plans for this year--big plans. These plans, or resolutions if you will, are going to improve my life and the lives of my family. They will make us happy. They will make us healthy. There is a good chance that these plans might make me annoying. The important thing is that I am going to follow these plans through, no matter how cranky I get. Over the coming weeks, I will share my resolutions.

Resolution #1--No More Stupid Purchases

A couple of years ago, Corey and I decided to try to implement as much organic food into our home as possible. While it takes a little while for the pocketbook to get used to it, we don't even think about the cost now. Our tradeoff is that we don't eat out much. What is more challenging is purchasing non-organic foods that do not have high fructose corn syrup. It is in EVERYTHING--particularly breads. Our grocery store does not have a very good selection of breads that do not have HFCS and Whole Foods is not exactly around the corner.

A few months ago, Corey suggested that we start baking our own bread. I thought it might be fun, but I didn't want to buy a bread maker, so I asked his mother if we could use hers and see if we like it. She brought it to us in October and I put it on our kitchen counter. I went out and bought all kinds of flours, yeast, molasses, etc... Then, Corey said, "We should (notice the "we" part again) look into finding recipes to make our own hotdog and hamburger buns." Again, a fine idea. I went online and saw a really cool pan on the King Arthur Flour website for making hot dog buns but it was out of stock--and about $50. So then I went onto Ebay, where it seemed to be a GOLDMINE of bun pans. Who knew? We found a used one for $15. How cool was that? Then, after I "won" it, I was surprised to see that the shipping on it was $15, but whatever.

This is what we got:

The pan is quite sturdy and weighs about 10 lbs. It is perfect for baking hot dog buns if, say, your oven is as large as one that is found in a RESTAURANT. When we went back to the Ebay posting, it had the dimensions of the pan as clear as day. When I emailed the seller and asked her if she had smaller pans, I could feel the laughter in her tone of the email, confirming that she did NOT have anything smaller, and reminded me that there were no refunds.

I wish I could say this was out first and only stupid purchase, but it is not. In our excitement, we miss the details, and then we pay the price--literally.

As for the breadmaking, I am sure it will come as no surprise that I haven't actually used the breadmaker yet. I moved it to the spare bedroom when we had company and I needed the counter space and haven't brought it back out.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some items to put up on Ebay.

She Seems to Know it All

2008-12-20T18:28:00.002-06:00

This morning, we headed to the Farmer's Market to get our last box of vegetables. The radio was on, and holiday tunes were playing as the girls played, "Let's pretend that I am Barbie Mariposa and YOU are the WITCH!" Suddenly, "Feliz Navidad" came on the radio.

"Oh, Genna. Guess what? "Feliz Navidad" is the song that Japanese people sing to wish each other Merry Christmas!

They TRY to Render me Speechless

2008-12-10T12:41:00.002-06:00

As mentioned in previous posts, my girls are virtual arts and crafts producing machines. Give them an hour and they can cover the kitchen table with dozens of pictures, necklaces and other jewelry cut out from paper. They make paper purses, paper gingerbread men, letters to their friends, letters to Santa, you get the picture. Everything is girlie, everything is pink, purple and sweet.

Yesterday, Ella came up to me and said in a very proud sing-songy voice, "I made something for you."

I looked at what she handed me. It was pink and purple, with a little bit of blue.

"Aww, you made me a key. How cute. Is it a key to your heart?"

My daughter looked at me like I lost my mind.

"NO, MOMMY, it's a GUN!"

"Wha---WHAT?!? Um, why did you make me a gun?"

Ella rolled her eyes and said, "Mommy! So you can shoot it!"

"Ummm, what does it shoot?"

Ella pondered that for a minute. "Ohhhh, fireballs."

"Oh, ok. Would I hurt someone if I shot them with this gun?"

"Welllll. I guess you wouldn't if they ran fast."

And there you have it.

Elf on the Shelf--A Review

2008-12-08T11:47:00.007-06:00

Last year, Corey noticed that our neighbors had an elf that kept moving around their house. When we were over for Christmas Eve, we asked about it. Turns out, their family does, Elf on the Shelf. This elf is supposed to fly to the North Pole every night and report to Santa whether the children in the house he is doing surveillance are good or not. The elf must never be touched by the children or he will go back to the North Pole and not come back. Corey was absolutely smitten and told us we had to have it for the next Christmas. In my drunkenness, I am sure I agreed.

Fast forward, October, 2008. Corey kept bugging me until I ordered the Elf on the Shelf--all $34.95 of it. It is a flimsy little doll that weighs about 2 ounces and comes with a book and a keepsake box.

November 30, 2008--We announced to the children that we had an elf coming to visit us during the holiday season, and explained the whole ~~lie~~ story. The reactions were mixed. Ella gets excited about anything and everything. Genna crossed her arms and said, "I don't WANT an elf staying here and watching me." When I told them they could name the elf anything they wanted, Ella decided to name him, "Present." Then she changed it to, "Elf Prince" something or other. Genna named him, "Chicka Chicka Boom Boom."

The first day was magical. All I had to do was look in the general direction of where the elf was sitting and say, "The elf..." and the girls would get all bug-eyed and straighten up. That day, there were no time-outs, no tantrums.

Day Two was a little more difficult. The elf is so lightweight and flimsy that he wouldn't stay seated in an upright position on our living room bookshelf. Every time someone walked past the bookshelf, he would fall over. The girls accused him of sleeping. We told the girls that he was really tired from flying to the North Pole and that he was new at this job. We would put him back in an upright position. Ella finally came up to me and told me that ,"Santa sent us a lazy elf." I couldn't agree more. There were also some tantrums and shenanigans that day. Reminding them that the elf was around would get them to stop briefly.

It has been a week since the elf started to grace the girls with his presence. While the first thing they do when they get up is look for him, the rest of the day he is ignored. They don't seem to care if the elf sees them fight, sass back, whine or tell me, "NO!" I have decided that the next time one of them is fresh with me, I will make sure he doesn't come back the next day, but there will be a note written in tiny elf-like handwriting, telling them that they are beasts. That should fix them.

I am waiting patiently for Christmas Eve to be over so that I can lock the elf back into his cute little keepsake box. I am creeped out by him and consider him to be a not-so-distant cousin of garden gnomes and clowns. They all frighten me. I am also tired of keeping track of all of the lies I am telling my children. I have a bad feeling that the Elf on a Shelf is going to be a painful memory that will be thrown back in my face during one of their many future therapy sessions.

Thanksgiving

2008-12-01T16:13:00.010-06:00

Team Hausfrau had a great time away for the Thanksgiving holiday. We spent the first couple of days north of Cincinnati with friends of ours. Rob and Laura have two girls Ella and Genna's ages and a son as well. The four girls were a tornado inside of a cyclone, wrapped up in a hurricane of dress-up dresses and Barbie dolls. It is so great to not be 12 hours away from Rob and Laura!!!

Our time in Deep Creek was great, with one exception. I got some sort of head cold/sinus infection the minute we got there and I ended up blowing about 3 quarts of egg drop soup out of my nose during the week. I felt reeeaaaalllly bad when others in the house started saying they had sore throats (sorry guys!)

Other than that, the girls had a blast playing with their friend Ava, getting to know a baby (Eve). They aren't around too many babies, so I was pleased that they didn't pile drive her. I did, however, feel like the loser parent for seemingly yelling all the time because Ella and Genna spent much of each and every day whining about various things. If our friends end up not travelling with us ever again, I will understand.

Our view from the hot tub:

Genna's got Jazz Hands.

Pre-dinner hike

Yay! Dinner's ready!

We came back from vacation well-fed and well-rested. I read two books while we were on vacation, got plenty of sleep, and introduced the girls to one of the best movies ever, "The Sound of Music." Corey was pretty shaken up watching me watch it because I ignore everything around me for 2.5 hours and cry every 15 minutes. There is a reason why we don't own themovie. I think Corey would leave me if he saw me in front of the television three nights a week, sobbing because I am watching the movie, yet again.

Randomness

2008-11-20T12:34:00.010-06:00

Things here are insane, but it is a good thing. We are packing, and repacking, and shifting our crap from one end of the house to the other to prepare for our Thanksgiving vacation. Most people just pack, but Corey lives to pack, repack, shift and organize, typically several days in advance. The man likes to have a job to do, so I usually sit back and let him go. There's no point in trying to reign him in.

We leave tomorrow and will spend the weekend north of Cincinnati. We haven't told the girls that they will be seeing their little girlfriends yet, for fear that their heads will explode. From there, we will head to Deep Creek Maryland. We are renting a house with a bunch of our friends from Pittsburgh and New Jersey. I have been obsessively checking Weather.com by the hour to ensure that it will be cold and snowy the entire week. It is looking good for that. It will be a week of eating, drinking, hiking, tubing, sledding, playing Wii and celebrating our 15th wedding anniversary. It doesn't get much better than that. That's the advantage of not spending Thanksgiving with family. There is no drama, there are no shenanigans.

We recently joined a co-op farm to get 4 boxes of winter produce over the next 2 months. I was so excited after we sent the check and decided that we will be

learning to cook with interesting vegetables and will be forced to eat it because we are paying quite a bit to do it. We decided a little over a year ago to eat a mostly organic diet, so we thought that joining a co-op was a natural extension of that. I was practically giddy with anticipation when I drove to pick up our first box two weeks ago with Ella. The vegetables were beautiful and overflowing from the box:

Corey just picked up our second box yesterday. Here's the reality: I haven't a fucking clue as to what to do with the mammoth red turnips they keep giving us (those are those big red things in the photo above), I hate radishes, and kale is most foul. I still cannot swallow celery (I never have been able to) and it is cut up in the freezer to take with us to Deep Creek for someone else to deal with. I still dislike eggplant and will only eat it when it is in baba ganousch,so I have a freezer full of that.

Ella has been quite busy at school, what with the Thanksgiving Program the kindergartners put on yesterday during the school assembly. I thought that it would just be a skit with the parents there taking pictures. I had no idea that the entire school would be there. No wonder she was so nervous! The kiddos did a really great job and if I can figure out how to put video on my blog, I will do so. Here are a couple of still shots:

With all of Ella's schoolwork, dance classes, dress-up play and tv watching, it is amazing that she has found the time to take part in another venture. Ella is teaming up with Hallmark to create a new line of personalized birthday cards. Here is her first one that is going out today to her friend Jordan:

Ella's talent for personalizing the card really comes through. It just doesn't get any more personal than confessing that you like your friend's hair. For the record, Jordan's hair IS to die for.

Speaking of birthdays, I am in the middle of birthday party angst over here. Our girls' birthday parties have always been casual get togethers with OUR friends and family. The girls' friends were the friends we made for them. Since we are new here and Ella is now starting to make friends on her own, I thought that maybe the party should be different now and maybe invite some of her new school friends. Ella doesn't know it yet, but we are having a birthday party for her on Saturday, December 6. I thought it would be fun if she had a tea party. I agonized over the invite list because she only talks about a couple of girls at school. I decided to invite all of the girls in her class (8) and then invite her friend from down the street and her little sister. I figured that only a couple of girls would show up since she doesn't appear to be friends with many of them. So far, all but one has RSVP'd yes.

Here's where I need help with birthday party etiquette: do kids open presents at parties when they are held at home? I have been to parties at Chuckie Cheese where presents were opened if it was a small party, not opened if it was a large party. I have been to parties at home, but I don't remember if the presents were opened or not. I could sure use some guidance in this arena.

Well, I am off to the dentist to pick up my retainer. That's right, you heard me. A retainer. Some people turn 40 and buy corvettes. Me? I get a freaking retainer because my teeth are shifting to the right side of my face.

And So It Begins

2008-11-10T14:07:00.005-06:00

Most days, one can find Ella at the kitchen table, drawing and coloring for hours on end. Lately, she has been calling out to me, asking how words are spelled. Last Sunday was no different:

"Mommy, how do you spell, 'Santa Claus?'"

I told her. A few minutes later, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'microphone?'"

I told her.

"What are you doing over there? I asked.

"Oh, I 'm making my list for Santa. How do you spell 'Barbie and the Diamond Castle Doll?'"

I told her. A few minutes after that, Ella asked, "Mommy, how do you spell, 'my own couch and tv in my room?'"

While I didn't spell that, "N-E-V-E-R," I did tell her that she would not be getting a couch and television in her bedroom.

"But Mommy, I have plenty of room, and it would be so nice to have a couch in my room. And a tv. So that I could watch whatever I want, when I want."

The Day After

2008-11-05T17:22:00.002-06:00

One has to wonder if Barack Obama woke up this morning , and said, "What the fuck have I just done? I now have the hardest and crappiest job in America."

I'm Crying on the Inside

2008-11-04T07:04:00.002-06:00

Yesterday, I was on the phone with my boss talking about work (duh) when Ella piped up from the back seat.

"Mommy, we got to vote for the 'lection today. I voted for John McCain."

"Did you hear that?" I asked Jennifer in a panic.

"Oh, yes I did. I think you need to take care of that." said Jennifer.

"I'll talk to you later." I said.

I asked Ella why she voted for John McCain. Of course, she had no idea. She's 5. I asked her what the teachers had said about the candidates. Ella replied that John McCain is the leader of our country. God help us if that happens today.

While I was momentarily devastated that my 5 year old didn't vote for Obama, I quickly remembered that she really shouldn't be worrying about this stuff anyway. I am not sure why the Tennessee schools thought it would be fun to hold mock elections, but I am thinking that the young kids probably didn't need to be a part of it.

I do hope my daughter, at some point, becomes interested in politics. Corey and I have vowed to encourage her to vote for the issues, not the party. Even though I am a registered Democrat, I tend to vote more conservatively when it comes to local government. Truth be told, had McCain gotten the nomination 8 years ago, I probably would have voted for him. I liked what he had to say then. It's a different world now.

U-B-O Spells Pig!

2008-10-31T06:48:00.006-05:00

Genna's preschool follows the same curriculum that Ella has in kindergarten. It has been cute for the girls to come home and sing the same songs that they learned from their respective schools. This is where school is a great cover for my suckitude in parenting: I am not a good teacher. At all. While I have taught the girls all about playing "Rock, Paper, Scissors" and "Thumb War," I am a wretched singer and haven't done much in the way of teaching them little ditties. I envy my friend Jenny, who has been regaling my girls with cute songs for years , and now does the same for her little one. If it weren't for Jenny, the girls would have NEVER learned the "Weenie Man Song," or her own creation she sang long before the book came out, "Whose Knees are These? Whose Toes are Those?"

At any rate, Genna is quite pleased with herself that she is learning, "big kid stuff" at school and frequently comes home and sings what she has learned. Occasionally, she combines songs and gets a little confused. This morning when she first woke up and climbed into bed us she sang the following to the combined tunes of BINGO, The Farmer in the Dell, and another song they sing to spell colors.

There was a farmer who had a pig, E-I-E-I-O
And the pig snorted
And he ate some mud
U-B-O spells PIG
Hi Ho the Dairy-o
And then the piggy pooped

It should be noted that at the end of nearly every song she sings, it ends in the main character pooping.

Happy Halloween Everyone!

Hopefully , Someone Will Come Forward

2008-10-24T13:14:00.003-05:00

Last Friday, there was a rash of car break-ins in our small town. One of the items stolen was a system that a little girl from Ella's school uses to communicate. It was probably mistaken for a laptop.

Here is the news story. My neighbor Debbie is in the piece as well. She is an aide at the school who works with the little girl.

PULEEEEEEESE

2008-10-24T11:31:00.001-05:00

Let me close my eyes and let it be 2009 when I open them, for the love of GOD!
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2008/10/lost-season-5-p.html

Lover, Thy Name is David Sedaris

2008-10-20T20:45:00.006-05:00

I can't help it. I have always had unrequited crushes on the most unattainable people. Gay men would be a prime example. Smart gay men. Smart, funny gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men. Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men who reduce me to a lump of giggly school girl when my husband and I see one in the lobby of "The Hermitage" as he checks in. For the record, he almost ran over my foot with his rolling suitcase (swoon). Smart, funny, non-traditionally handsome, almost falsetto-voiced gay men who can write and/or tell stories so funny that I feared I would pee my pants from laughing. The problem was, I was in the Orchestra Section, Row P, seat 30.

Next time I see him, I will wear a Depends, in addition to my heart on my sleeve.

Totally Worth Being Up at 5:00 AM For This!

2008-10-19T05:14:00.002-05:00

I am up again at an ungodly hour, but I can't be upset about it this time. I just found out that Terry Tate, Office Linebacker IS BACK! The Terry Tate, Office Linebacker commercials from the Super Bowl are my favorite commercials of all time.

I'll nap later. For now, I will just enjoy being alive and basking in Terry Tateness.

Hausfrau Update

2008-10-15T08:33:00.007-05:00

So much has been going on of late, but I haven't had time to really write much during the day. Instead, I am writing at night. As in 2:00 AM. The kids come into our room at least 4 nights a week, usually for valid issues like vomiting, crapping in a pull-up,etc. Other times, the girls just can't sleep. I can't yell at them because I totally understand. Even if they didn't come downstairs, I would probably be awake. The four of us just don't sleep well in this house and I can't figure out why. I will frequently find Genna sleeping in Ella's room on the floor or Ella sleeping on the sectional in the playroom. When I ask them why they weren't in their rooms, they say that they were tossing and turning and couldn't sleep.

So anyway, by the time I tuck the girls back in their beds, I am wide awake and have limited options for entertainment. If I turn on the television in the living room, the dogs will start a ruckus in the laundry room, so it is easier to just go to my office and get online.

So let's see, what have I been up to...oh yeah--I went on a road trip to Indiana with my friend to pop in on my mother. It turned out to be one of the best trips home ever. My mother was far too sick to be mean, which was a help. We spent some quality time together, I cleaned her apartment, and I ended up having some fun as well while I was there. I stayed with my friend's sister, Jennifer, who is always a riot. She is also very passionate about making the world a more beautiful place, so she makes it a point to do my hair. It's true. I have a bad hair life, but Jennifer makes it gorgeous. The bigger riot occurred when the three of us had dinner with their father and his long time love. "Big Daddy" is always good for a story, and boy, was he full of them. I could listen to the two of them for days.

Corey went away the following weekend for his annual golf weekend with his friends from home. The golf competition went to a whole new level this year with a trophy (found in the depths of the middle school where one of them works as a principal) and a blazer of questionable fabric from the Goodwill down the road. I went for the tackiest thing I could find because I never thought the jacket would ever make its way back into our home.

I was wrong. Apparently, Corey's handicap, and his best games ever cinched the title.

While Corey was off with his buddies, I represented Team Hausfrau in the neighborhood's Second Annual Chili Cook-Off and Weenie Roast. I didn't win, but I heard that my chili won a few votes. I am sure everyone was told that. It was a good chance to meet the rest of the neighbors I hadn't met.

This weekend, my Mother-in-Law and three nephews are coming for a visit, which should be fun. Next weekend Lori and Jennifer are coming to stay with me because there is some sort of crazy flea market. I am really disappointed that I won't be able to go with them because our elementary school has their huge Harvest Festival that weekend and Corey and I have both volunteered to work it. It won't all be bad though. I know my hair will look good.

Out of the Mouth of Ella

2008-10-06T16:08:00.002-05:00

Ella recently learned how to fold a piece of paper, draw a design and cut it out. She started off by making hearts and circles. She quickly moved on to people, flowers, and more abstract designs.

After creating a particularly challenging design, she asked me to cut it out for her since scissors are still awkward for her when it comes to a lot of turns. As I cut out her latest creation, she said," Mommy, you are SO excellent at cutting."

"Why thank you, Ella."

"You're welcome, Mommy. You have had a lot and a lot and a lot of practice. Do you know how I know?"

"How do you know?"

"Well, because you are really, really, really, really, really, really (she's now counting on her fingers) really, really, really, really OLD!"

Overheard Outside

2008-09-29T23:00:00.003-05:00

"Hey Ella."
"What Genna?"
"Let's pretend you and me are big kids, and that is your beer and this is my beer."

A Letter to the Man I Love

2008-09-25T11:31:00.009-05:00

Dear Corey,

Have I told you lately how much I love you? How much I appreciate all that you do? Have I thanked you for not so much as raising an eyebrow when I told you of my plans to go off to some sort of tropical locale with my girlfriends in February? Did I even tell you that I am going away in February?

I think you are one of the smartest people I know. You are an amazing scientist who is part of something really big! I just know that you are going to help invent a drug to help people who suffer from Parkinson's Disease! The only person I know who is smarter than you is our friend Joe. He knows something about practically everything, so he beats you by a hair. I am hopeful that your smarty-pants genes were able to overcome my so-so genes when we reproduced so that our kids will have a fighting chance to be smart and get into good colleges.

I do have a question. Help me understand why you chose to clean up Ella's vomit with my shark this morning.

Love you,

Hausfrau

Planning a Road Trip Home

2008-09-24T09:46:00.008-05:00

My last trip home a few weeks ago was a disaster, as indicated in a recent post. Actually, most of my trips home are disastrous. Believe it or not, this time it was a disaster mostly because of my mother. As many of you know, my mother has been ill with various ailments for many years. As a result, I come to her because she is too sick to travel. I usually fly home a few times a year to check up on her. The girls don't travel home with me because of the expense and the fact that Ella would probably get us removed from a plane because of her fear of flying. It is just easier to go home alone. Unfortunately, the girls don't get to see her often. They love Busia, but they really don't know her. They just don't have the kind of relationship with her that will give them good memories when they are adults. I am eternally grateful that the girls do have my mother-in-law, who is involved, spends quality time with them and plays with them.

At any rate, we had planned to come home for Labor Day weekend to see my mom since we are now a seven or eight hour drive as opposed to a 12+ hour journey. My mother was so excited because she hadn't seen her "babies" in 14 months and really want to hug on them. We left Friday evening, spent the night in Bloomington with my MIL, and then headed the remaining three hours to LaPorte the next morning. I called my mother once we were about 45 minutes from LaPorte to let her know we were close and that we would be coming by. I do this every time we come home so that I can ensure that she is awake and has time to clean up, get dressed and put her teeth in. When I got her on the phone and told her we would be there soon, this was her response:

"I'm sorry. I'm really not up to having visitors today. I took some pain medication a few days ago and now I am too sick to visit."

I counted to 100, and told Corey to head to our friends' house instead. I was fuming that she didn't tell me earlier in the week that she had taken pain medication. She reacts horribly to any and all pain medications when she takes them and it takes days for her to recover. Had I know that she had taken pain meds, we would not have come home. It just isn't worth it to drive 16 hours round trip for the girls to see her for two hours. That's another thing--when the girls are able to see Busia, they can only spend a couple of hours at a time with her because it tires her out. In addition, the girls are stressed out because we have to coach them before we get to her apartment:

No loud talking
Don't touch anything
Busia is sick
Don't hug her too hard
Don't step on her feet
Be careful when you climb up on the couch to sit next to her
Don't sit on her lap
Keep away from the sharp things in her apartment
Busia is sick
Busia is sick
Busia is sick

Genna is usually the first one to pipe up that she is ready to go home within minutes of getting to Busia's. It also doesn't help that after the hugs and kisses are over, my mother ignores them the rest of the time they are there. While I understand she can't get down on the floor with them to play, she could certainly color with them. But she doesn't.

So, we drove a total of 16 hours and the girls saw Busia on Sunday for two hours. The whole thing sucked. This trip is not unlike a previous trip we took a few years ago.

So now, I am going back. My mother is having an angioplasty next Wednesday. She was supposed to have it today but, surprise surprise, she is sick and they won't do it. I had planned on coming home for the weekend to help take care of her. Unfortunately, I can't come home next weekend, so I have decided to come home this weekend anyway to get her apartment cleaned and run her errands so she doesn't have to worry about that stuff when she returns home. I am hoping my sister can come home the following weekend to help, but I don't know if she can.

There are two reasons why this trip will be better.

#1 I am coming unannounced. It is always much more fun when I come home and don't tell my mother that I am coming. It always pisses her off, but her insults don't bother me.

#2 More importantly, one of my best friends is coming with me. I am picking up Lori in Kentucky and we will road trip together. We are staying at her sister's house, which will involve a lot of laughing, which is something I always need after a few hours with my mother. Lori doesn't know this yet, but I will take her over to see my mom, as she is one of the only friends I have that she adores. She's always nice to Lori.

It's gonna be fun...

Y'all Need to Calm Down

2008-09-20T10:19:00.006-05:00

I knew that we had been affected by Hurricane Ike from a gas perspective, but I had no idea how bad it had gotten until I went to the gas station yesterday. Well, at least I tried to get gas. The first 10 gas stations had no gas. At all. I was on Empty and starting to get a little worried. I called my boss in Philadelphia and asked her if there was a gas shortage up there. There was silence on the line for a good 5 five seconds before she asked me what the heck I was talking about. All week long, there were gas stations out of gas, but they would be back in business the next day. This was getting weirder by the minute. I finally drove to Cool Springs and found a gas station with gas. And about 100 cars were wrapped around it. In addition, two news helicopters were flying around it, nearly crashing into each other. It was CAAARRRAAZZZY!

I waited for an hour, prayed I wouldn't run out before I got to the pump, got my gas, and went about my day. I told Corey about it later and was met with a look of disbelief.

This morning, we turned on the news and saw this. We drove to the farmers' market and saw that Costo was the only place that had gas. There were HUNDREDS of cars waiting for gas. According to the news reports we saw this morning, people all over Nashville had gotten up at 2:00AM thinking they could get some gas. They were met with enormous lines also.

Apparently this nonsense on Friday started with a rumor--a rumor that Nashville was going to run out of gas. People started to panic. Reactionary crazy people who didn't actually NEED gas created massive lines in order to top off their cars, causing undue inconvenience and suffering for those who actually need it. I am defining that any one who has less than a quarter of a tank needs gas. Many of the people in my neighborhood are on "E."

Unfortunately for Corey, he is nearly out of gas, so he is going to drive my car to work this week until things calm down. We're not going to drive to Paducah tomorrow so that we can save our gas. It stinks, but it is what it is. According to the news, everything should be back to normal by Tuesday or so.

Based on the reactions of the people around here, I pray that this never becomes a way of life. We will be in huge trouble if it does. We as a nation are clearly unprepared and unwilling to change our lives.

A Letter From One Mother to Another

2008-09-17T21:57:00.004-05:00

Dear Lady Who Drives the KIA in the Car Lane at School,

I fucking hate you.

These are words that rarely pass my lips. It is a rare day that I ever say that I actually HATE someone. But I hate you.

I usually park behind you in the car lane at 3:05 and wait 20 minutes to pick up my daughter. Every day I sit behind you, and every day, I see you take your 10-ish month-old child out of his car seat and have him sit on your lap in the driver's seat. While you are smoking. For 20 or so minutes, I see you smoke 2-3 cigarettes while your child is on your lap, trying to grab the cigarette out of your hand that is lazily flicking ash (littering on school grounds) out the window. I thought there was a smoking ban in front of buildings?

The first time I saw you do this, I was certain that my eyes were playing tricks on me. There was no possible way that a mother would be blowing cigarette smoke on her child. I thought that maybe I had gone back in time and was back in 1972 when all of the dangers of smoking hadn't come out of the woodwork yet. Perhaps? No. I was here in 2008, watching you puff away and exhale on the back of your kid's head.

Why don't you just club your child and be done with it? Better yet, why don't you leave him on the side of the road like an unwanted pet? What's the difference? You are killing your child. Right Now. KILLING HIM. If you are so free and comfortable to do this in public, one can only imagine what you are doing to your kids in your home.

I realize that smoking is enjoyable to some, an addiction to others. Hell, you have no idea how much I enjoyed smoking. I loved it. Loved, loved LOVED it. But you know what? Even if I still smoked, I would never smoke in front of my kids. Not ever. Do you know why? BECAUSE IT HARMS THEM. I can't imagine playing any part in harming any child, much less my own.

Please know that you are not the first lady I have seen smoke in a car with her kids. Hardly. You are, however, the first asshole I have ever seen blowing smoke in the front seat of a car with a baby on her lap. I am pretty sure you are breaking some sort of law by smoking on school grounds. Don't you worry, I will be looking into that.

I truly hate you,

Misfit Hausfrau

Who Knew That School Lunch Could Be So Good?!

2008-09-14T13:06:00.004-05:00

Every day I ask Ella to tell me about two great things that happened at school. She pretty much says the same two things: lunch and milk break. The apple does not fall far from the tree when it comes to my girl's love of food. In particular, Ella is fascinated by school lunch. She wants to eat it every day. I usually pack her lunch because I find that school lunch is pretty expensive ($2.50/day) and it is not nearly as nutritious as what I fix. What they do have, however, is variety. There are two main course offerings, starches, vegetables, fruit, etc. In addition, they offer an assortment of lunch meat sandwiches. While we are not vegetarians, we eat virtually all organic and have almost nothing in the house that has high fructose corn syrup in it. While we pay a small fortune in groceries every week, we don't eat out in restaurants and only eat fast food when we travel (or the girls visit their grandmother.)

Ella's typical lunch packed by me is either a cheese sandwich, a hummus sandwich or PB&J. She also gets baby carrots, a piece of fruit and a crunchy thing like pretzels or something sweeter. Unfortunately, Ella is, according to her, the ONLY kid in her class who brings her lunch. She wants to buy her lunch like everyone else because she is tired of cheese sandwiches and PB&J. As a compromise, I have been allowing her to buy her lunch one day a week, on a day she chooses. Last week, she chose Friday's lunch choice of cheeseburger on a whole wheat roll. She was practically bouncing off the walls Friday morning because she was so excited to be eating like everyone else. She also felt compelled to run down the street and tell our neighbors that she was getting to eat school lunch. The neighbors are getting used to her happy but odd outbursts and find them cute. I am sure they will no longer think they are so cute when she is 10.

When I picked Ella up from school on Friday afternoon, I asked her how her lunch was today. She said that lunch was "awesome." When I told her that I was glad she liked her cheeseburger, she said,

"Welllllllllllllllllllllllll, I ended up not having the cheeseburger. I gotted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and itwassoyummybecausewedon'thavewhitebreadathomeandthis
hadwhitebreadandIreallylikewhitebreadandithadpurplejelly."

White bread. You are the devil.

My Fantasy Life is So Much Better Than My Real Life

2008-09-02T21:15:00.014-05:00

While I haven't spent too much time thinking about it, there have been a couple of occasions where I have fantasized about seeing an ex-boyfriend and having him walk away, saddened that we parted. Don't act like you never have. Despite the fact that my exes are almost all complete assholes who really don't deserve to live, it is interesting to wonder what would happen if I saw any of them. My fantasy goes something like this: I am on a flight to somewhere. I am in first class. I am still a size 4. Ex is heading to his seat in the last row in coach. He has no idea that the man who will be sitting next to him smells like pee. Or maybe I am in a restaurant with my girlfriends. I am still a size 4. Ex is on the other side of the room trapped in a conversation with someone dull and boring and not, well, me.

In either scenario, the Ex sees me first, does a double-take, realizes it is moi, and come over to talk to me. I don't immediately recognize him until he tells me his name. Then I demurely apologize. After that, we have a pleasant exchange, and I learn that he is on his third divorce/just lost his job/went bankrupt/just got out of rehab/has open sores from some sort of venereal disease, etc. He learns that I have a great life, an awesome husband, two sweet kids and a house in the suburbs. He would know that I picked myself up and brushed myself off after he unceremoniously dumped me at my friend's college graduation party. He would figure out that, despite the fact that he dumped me while I was PLASTERED, I moved on. He would be amazed that I was able to go on, despite the fact that my drunken dumped ass managed to RUIN said friend's graduation party. He would have to admit that he let a Class A act slip through his fingers.

Hey--here's a picture of me at the Graduation party, just a few beers away from complete and utter humiliation. That's me on the far left. My friend, Tiana (the guest of honor) is right next to me.

The truth is, I live in fear of seeing any type of Ex, be it an ex-boyfriend or an ex-friend when I come home. I do a very good job of hiding from people who used to know me. I don't go to Dick's Bar. I don't go out to too many restaurants. I didn't go to my 20th high school reunion (although I heard I missed QUITE a time.) It really isn't that hard for me to avoid those I used to know. I look so different than I did in high school that I may get a strange look from someone, but I am gone before they figure out who I am.

I should have known that I was asking for trouble by not showering on Saturday. I should have had the foresight to look down at my feet with the chipped red polish and recognize that four weeks is way too long for me to go without a pedicure. I should have had the brains to look down and see that my cargo capris had grease stains on them. I should have had the common sense my mother gave me to change my shirt after I opened up a jar of salsa at dinner and had it explode on my boobs.

My fantasy has never included Ex spotting me in the frozen food section of the Super WalMart. It also never included the part where I look like I may be homeless. The only part of the fantasy that came true was the fact that he spotted me first.

Ex: Oh my gosh, is it really you Hausfrau?

Me: Oh no.

That was the best I could come up with--"Oh no."

I don't remember much of what I said to him. I do remember him saying that I looked good, but people HAVE to say that when they see someone they haven't seen in 17 years. I couldn't help but think he was going to reach in his wallet and hand me a $20 bill as I was pretty sure he didn't believe me when I told him that my husband is an Assistant Professor at Vanderbilt University. Or that I had a job. Or that my life was good. After about 30 seconds, I told him that my friends were waiting for me to bring back the ice cream that was in my hand and that it was good seeing him. I hauled ass out of the store, cursing the Gods for causing my fantasy to spiral out of my control. I was supposed to be hot. I was supposed to be AWESOME.

I sat in the car hitting my forehead on the steering wheel, saying over and over again, "Stupid Stupid Stupid!" Then I remembered yet another part of my fantasy that went unfulfilled. I didn't tell Ex that I had been sleeping with my now-husband anyway, and I didn't really understand why I got so upset when he dumped me. Maybe next time.

It's Going to be an Interesting School Year

2008-08-26T21:51:00.003-05:00

Over the years, I have heard time and time again that I am going to make a ton of friends once the girls start school. While I am certainly happy with the friends I have, they are everywhere that I am not, on account of us moving every ten minutes. Like it or not, I need to make some new friends here in Tennessee. I thought that the perfect chance to meet new people would be at the kindergarten orientation at Ella's school last week.

I had no idea that kindergarten orientation would be such an incredible opportunity to people watch. I walked in with a few minutes to spare before the teacher began her presentation. As I scoped out the room to find a seat (they were hard to find as they are chairs that are about 6 inches off the ground. I noticed the clique in the right hand corner or mothers and fathers who all knew each other. I was one of the few people who was without a spouse there. I found a chair, sat down and started to fill out the questionnaire the teacher had provided.

A minute into my paperwork, the door opened and a well-dressed woman came in with her Louis Vuitton bag. With a dog in it. As if she had forgotten that dogs weren't actually allowed in the classroom, she left the bag and the dog in the hallway for her children to play with. Because it MUST be OK to have a dog in the hallway of a school. To be played with. I was wondering if this was the same dog who showed up at Ella's dance class the night before. I.am.not.kidding.

Five minutes into the teacher's presentation, the door opened, and in walked a very harried woman. I am assuming she was harried because there was a lot of sighing and exhaling and such as she breezed in. She rushed around the room to find a seat, where she proceeded to sit down and start eating. Did I mention that she brought in a bowl of cereal? At 6:00 at night? The ceramic kind of bowl found in any kitchen in America? At a fucking KINDERGARTEN ORIENTATION?! Judging from the clanging of her spoon, and the crunching, the cereal was something special and just couldn't wait to be eaten.

And then there was THAT MOTHER. You know the kind. THAT MOTHER is the mother who has to always interrupt a speaker and inject their opinions, life stories or overall bullshit. All the teacher wanted to do was to give her presentation, say hi to the parents and get the hell home. But no, THAT MOTHER hijacked the presentation by peppering comments in places that didn't need peppering. She asked stupid questions, even though the teacher said there weren't any stupid questions. She lied--there were stupid questions, and THAT MOTHER asked them. She was also the person who literally jumped over the chairs and table to get to the teacher first after the presentation was over so that she could discuss how smart and special her child is.

Looking around the room and watching Mrs. Vuitton, the Cereal Eater, THAT MOTHER and the two women on opposite sides of the room having a duel to see who could snap their gum the most/fastest/loudest, I pretty much figured out that I will be searching elsewhere for new friends.

It's Good to Think Ahead

2008-08-24T06:13:00.002-05:00

"Guess what, Mommy? You know what? When I grow up and have my two twin babies, I know what I'm going to name them."

"What's that Ella?"

"The girl baby's name is going to be Sparkle. The boy baby's name is going to be Handsome. Handsome Prince Hausfrau."

PMS + Forcing Child Onto School Bus for the First Time=Puddle of Tears from Mommy

2008-08-22T10:47:00.002-05:00

It has been quite a week here. Corey started his job at Vanderbilt and Ella had her first day of kindergarten on Tuesday. While you probably saw the photos from the previous post, those photos were taken well before we actually got to school. When I escorted her to her classroom, she panicked and cried. She was the only kid who cried. I spent so much time talking her down that I didn't really have much time to think about the fact that my baby's life was changing forever.

When I picked up Ella that afternoon, she was bursting with news and telling me everything that had happened in class that day. I thought then, that we would be alright.

Today is her second 1/2 day of kindergarten. Starting next week she will go everyday all day. My neighbor and I decided that we would have our kids ride the bus together. While Ella had already voiced some hesitancy to ride the bus, she immediately became excited when she found out that Aiden would sit with her.

Then the bus pulled up.

Aiden barely waited for the bus to come to a complete stop and open the door before he was on and in his seat. Ella started to immediately cry and say that she didn't want to ride the bus and that she was scared. Sure it was scary! It is big and yellow and LOUD! Nevertheless, I firmly pushed her up the stairs and she sat in the front seat next to Aiden with all of the moms cheering Ella on. She sat next to Aiden and stopped crying. The bus driver winked at me and mouthed, "It's OK." God knows he has seen this before. The bus pulled away and all of us mothers waved and blew kisses as they left. The other moms told me that it was OK to cry and that they had done so when their children rode the bus for the first time. I told them I was fine and walked back to the house.

And then I cried.

It wasn't the fact that I didn't want to let my baby go. I am perfectly fine having my children experience milestones in their lives. I cried because of the look of fear on Ella's face as the bus pulled away. I realized that this was one time that I couldn't comfort her and make it better FOR HER. I couldn't eliminate her fear. For the first time in her life, on bus #145, Ella was going to have to solve her own problem and figure it out on her own. That realization hit me like a ton of bricks. Ella is a big kid. She needs to start embracing that role and owning it.

Kindergarten

2008-08-19T13:41:00.004-05:00

It is hard to believe that 5 3/4 years ago, I was holding my first child. She was an easy-going, calm baby. She was big--8.6 lbs. I was quite pleased that I had pushed her out all by myself. She only cried when she was hungry and started sleeping through the night at six weeks. We had it made. The last thing I was thinking about was the fact that she would actually grow up.

My baby started kindergarten today.

OMFG--The BUGS!

2008-08-18T16:45:00.016-05:00

When we started to telling people that we were moving to Nashville, we heard nothing but great things from friends and strangers alike:

"You are going to LOVE it there!"

"Nashville is so cool!"

"You will get so much house for your money!"

"Wow, I am so jealous!"

"It is so nice living in the South!"

"The weather is great in the winter."

There is just one thing. None of these "Friends" told me that we would be encountering some scary-ass critters.

Exhibit One:

When my friend Laura and I went for a walk with our kids Friday morning, we encountered a strange HUGE red and black striped ant. The girls were chasing it, but it was quick and not hanging around to let four little ones poke and prod it. I commented to Laura that it really seemed to have the body of a yellow-jacket but it was, well, RED and BLACK and didn't have wings. When a bug is red, I think it means, "DANGER" When I got home and Googled, "BIG Red ANT," I got this:

THIS is called a Red Velvet Ant, or Cow Killer. According to Whatsthatbug.com, it is actually a wingless female WASP whose sting has been know to kill cows because of the pain. Suffice it to say, if I ever see the winged male variety, I will probably soil myself as I run away screaming like the girl I apparently never knew I was.

Exhibit Two: Ever since I've gotten here, I have had the feeling that bugs have been on me, but when I shoo them away, there is nothing there. I thought I was going loco. Until, that is, I started getting itchy ITCHY bites all over my legs. Genna has them too. I initially thought they were mosquito bites, but I am pretty sure they are CHIGGERS!

OMFG! Have you ever had these? The itching is driving me absolutely insane. I am also losing my mind because I can't see them. I have been told by two of my co-workers from the south that I am going to have to cover the bumps with clear nail polish so that the little darlings will be suffocated. I am not sure why Corey and Ella haven't gotten them, but I am grateful.

Exhibit Three: I think I killed a beetle that looked an awful lot like this in our house this week:

I wasn't too concerned at the time because I hadn't run into the Red Velvet Ant yet. Now I am not sure sure I should have been so blase about it.

And finally, Exhibit Four:

I was talking to my friend Lori on the phone yesterday afternoon, when I came across this on my window:

This is a stick bug (um, I guess it was impossible to come up with a more original name.) I know they are harmless and I know that they are often kept as pets, it isn't ever going to be a pet in MY home. Anything that is longer than six inches in the insect class is going to freak me the hell out.

Keep in mind, I wasn't afraid of bugs or critters up until this week. I've even killed lots of nasty bus and snakes and mice. One co-worker told me today that I need to toughen up. My other co-worker told me to prepare for the first wolf spider or black widow to come into the house. I am taking no chances. I am calling ORKIN tomorrow. Or wrapping myself and my home in Saran Wrap.

Reason Number #4598 Why I Love the Internet

2008-08-11T15:48:00.005-05:00

Since my social calendar isn't exactly full yet and I am not all that interested in the Olympics, I have had some time to explore the internet.

I found a site that takes your name and turns it into a name for a piece of IKEA furniture. It gave me minutes of amusement.

Consider this my gift to you. I'm a giver, what can I say? There is no need to thank me. By the way, my Swedish Furniture name is DAUNNANVIK and I am a three drawer chest. Let me know what your name is and what kind of furniture you are.

Getting Settled

2008-08-09T13:10:00.002-05:00

It's hard to believe that we got to Tennessee nine days ago. We left the girls with their grandmother in Indiana so that we would have a few days to paint their bedrooms. We also painted the dining room because I knew I wouldn't want to move anything later once I put away my china. It was good to try to get out and get a lay of the land before the moving truck and the girls came. What stunk was that we had nothing to sit on except for our blow-up bed. We were able to use someone's unsecured WiFi so that we could have Internet access. It proved to be valuable when we had to look up a phone number or address to a store every 10 minutes.

The moving truck came on Sunday. We were disappointed that we had several items break. We've always had at least one minor thing break in a move--one has to expect that. However, it is clear that the driver was lazy and threw a lot of our stuff in the truck. As a result, our box springs, Genna's mattress, glass from our sliding door bookshelves, picture frames and several other smaller items will need to be replaced. We are looking at filing a claim for about $1000. The moving company will most assuredly fight us on it. Good times.

We spent the next three days unpacking boxes and trying to find a place for everything. The girls came back on Sunday evening, so they enjoyed the boxes for about an hour. Then they were over it and wanted us to entertain them. This move has been rough on them. Ella has been crying daily because she misses her friends Katie, Jade and Matthew. Genna cries right along with her. They get upset if I am in another room and they can't hear me. As a result, they are following me everywhere like a couple of lost dogs. They really dislike the fact that their bedrooms are on the second floor and ours is on the first. Genna kept sneaking into Ella's room and sleeping with her in the middle of the night, so we moved her bed into Ella's room. I'm pretty pleased with that since I thought they should be sharing a room anyway. It will be good when Genna starts daycare on Monday and Ella starts school next week.

I've only cried once this week, which I think is pretty good. I usually have one meltdown when we move. It always involves my getting lost on the way home from somewhere. This time, my GPS wasn't working, so I couldn't retrace my steps. I called Corey who was rattling off the directions at 90 mph when he knew damned well that I was DRIVING and couldn't possibly remember them. Then my phone died. Did I mention that we live in the boonies where the roads are windy, hilly, wooded and really narrow? Did I tell you that it was 100 degrees outside and that I noticed that the arrow on my temperature gauge was on the "H"? I had to turn off the air conditioning, roll down the windows and try to find my way home. As I cried, I yelled at Corey, blaming him for everything. It was HIS fault that he moved me, yet again, to someplace new. It was HIS fault that I was lost because my GPS didn't work. It was TOTALLY his fault that I didn't charge my phone and didn't have my car charger handy. It was also his fault that I couldn't use my air conditioning. By the time I got home over an hour later (the trip should have been 12 miles round-trip) I was exhausted. And really sweaty.

The neighbors are proving to be very friendly. Our house is one of about 25 homes in a new development. Eventually there will be about 100 homes, but for now, it is a nice-sized neighborhood. We are connected to another community that has more than 300 homes, so we are able to use their amenities, but we have the benefit of virtually no traffic. All of the roads are built, but only a couple of homes are being built at a time, so the roads will be perfect for teaching the kids to ride their bikes. There are a ton of kids the girls' ages, so that is definitely a good thing. Ella has already decided that she is in love with Aiden, the red-haired boy next door. Since she has a red-haired boyfriend in PA named Matthew, I fear she is going to get a reputation. She is following in her father's footsteps in that he only dated redheads.

I am glad to be going back to work on Monday from home. It will be good to go back to some routine. Corey doesn't start work at Vanderbilt until the 18th so he will have a huge list of things to do next week.

That's really all I have for an update. I will spend the afternoon watching Ocean's Eleven to honor Bernie Mac.

Must...Finish...Unpacking

2008-08-05T22:16:00.002-05:00

Tired of boxes. And paper. I thought we moved to Nashville, but it feels like the Sahara. With humidity. Lots and lots of humidity. And BUGS!

So very tired...

Watching Other People Move My Shit is Tiring!

2008-07-29T15:20:00.002-05:00

Corey and I have been patiently waiting for the movers to finish loading up our stuff. It has certainly been interesting. The Driver, the Driver's Pregnant Girlfriend, the Driver's Turkish cousin and the Driver's "Grandpa"are the colorful cast of characters who are moving us. Driver is about 30 and has been whining all day about a rash he got this morning. At one point he said that he was in so much pain that he couldn't work. Corey ran to the store to get him Benadryl cream, Benadryl pills and Tylenol. Wuss. I'll start listening to his whining once he gives vaginal birth to a 9.6 lb. watermelon. In the meantime, he needs to get cracking.

Turkish Cousin and Grandpa are machines. They don't stop for anything. I think Grandpa used to be the owner of the Company, but now he is old and Driver is taking over. It is unclear what role Driver's Girlfriend is playing. These movers aren't NEARLY as interesting as the white trash movers we had when we moved here. Driver and Turkish Cousin are constantly going at it and Grandpa keeps telling Driver to watch his language. I just know that Turkish Cousin is really a surgeon back home, but he has to work for Driver in this country. Turkish Cousin is doing what he wants--no one is going to tell HIM what to do. Fuck yeah.

I have spent the day swatting flies, waiting to vacuum rooms that are empty and surfing the internet no-stop. I have never surfed the net for a solid 8 hours. I think I actually found the end of the internet. It ain't pretty. You'll want to keep the sound low if you are at work.

We are hoping the movers will be done around 7PM. We are going to head out tonight and hopefully get to the other side of Pennsylvania.

Here We Go Again

2008-07-29T07:38:00.003-05:00

This truck is currently in front of our house and will soon be loaded up with all of our possessions. While I am eternally grateful that I didn't have to actually move any of this stuff, I am still an exhausted mess. I am incredibly sad today.

I am certainly not going to miss this house that we have lived in just one week shy of two years. I didn't even want this house. We spent the entire two years working on it to make it livable. I am sad because we are, yet again, leaving friends behind. For our New Jersey friends, we are leaving them for a second time. While we have been fortunate to already have a few friends near the towns in which we have lived, we have been so incredibly lucky to meet new, amazing friends in New Jersey, Cincinnati, and now here. I am much too cynical to believe that lightening could possibly strike a fourth time, and we could make lasting friendships with people in Tennessee. Quite frankly, I love the friends I have--I don't think I have the energy to meet anymore.

We met Amy and Michael while we were in birthing class in New Jersey in 2002. Actually, we were never formally introduced. I was way too pregnant and way to bitchy and tired to actually be civil to anyone in the class. We ended up meeting again in the Somerset Babies R Us after our girls were born. Amy was there returning some items, and in a very rare show of bravery, I approached her and we struck up a conversation about the girls. Her daughter was born two weeks after Ella. We exchanged phone numbers, and the rest is history. We have been close ever since.

It has been so wonderful for one of us to call the other at any hour of the day or night and ask questions, get opinions, or just be a sounding board. The four of us have nearly identical styles of parenting, which is a good thing too. There has never been any awkwardness when one of the kids have acted up at the others' home. Amy, Michael and their kids were the first ones to get in a car, and drive 12 hours to visit us in Cincinnati. They even did it a second time. Their generosity was boundless when Corey lived in their house for 6 weeks when we were in the process of moving from Cincinnati to PA. It really hurts to be leaving them again. We were actually supposed to be in Kaui with them this week.

In Cincinnati, we met Rob and Laura. We were in a Carvel ice cream shop having sundaes, when a guy told Ella that he liked her IU sweatshirt. It turned out that Rob and Laura had graduated from IU like we did. Laura and I grew up 30 minutes away from each other. They had a daughter who was a couple of month younger than Ella and a newborn just a couple of months younger than Genna. We totally clicked. Corey and Rob are both scientists and could talk the same language, in addition to talking about IU basketball and football. Laura is an incredibly intelligent woman. Her patience with her children was amazing and made me want to be better. We spent a lot of time together and really enjoyed it. While life has gotten really busy for all of us (they had a third child), we are really excited to only be 4 hours away from them when we move to Nashville.

Lori and Brian have been the absolute best.neighbors.ever. here in Bethlehem. We have never been in a situation where we were actually friendly with neighbors. When we first moved to this house, we had pine trees with branches all the way to the ground in our backyard. We couldn't see the neighbors' house, and I really wanted to have neighbors--not privacy. Corey cut the branches and suddenly, we had neighbors. Then we became friends.

The kids run back and forth between the yards nearly every day. Ella and Genna start each weekend morning off by asking if they can go outside and play with Matthew and Christopher. We have frequently called each other to ask what food the other has in their fridge and we piece together a meal. We have spent many weekend evenings on each of our back porches, drinking, talking and laughing. It was incredibly sad to say good bye to them last night. I think it will ultimately be toughest for Ella to be leaving them. She plans on marrying Matthew. When she goes to the new house and discovers that there is no longer a house behind us, she will be profoundly sad.

I don't want to make it sound like our moving to Nashville will be awful--it won't be at all. We will be 4 1/2 hours from Corey's mother-in-law. We will also be 90 minutes from a couple of our dearest friends. Lori and Jeff are the girls' god parents. We are thrilled that we will be so much closer to them now. I think I fear getting attached to yet another place, or more people, all so that we can move away a few years down the road.

I Never, EVER Thought I Would Have to Have This Discussion

2008-07-26T05:53:00.003-05:00

"Hey Genna, when we go to Ava's birthday party today, you are NOT to eat dirt."

"But is there dirt there?"

"Maybe, but if there is, you aren't eating it."

Sigh

"Yes, Mommy."

The Fastest Month Ever

2008-07-21T20:45:00.007-05:00

The month of July is going by with lightning speed. When I really think about how fast it is going, I start to panic. There is so much to do and seemingly NOT enough time to do it. Ever since we bought our house in TN, we have been running around and making lists, going through the house to figure out what we don't need to bring with us, giving stuff away, etc. The movers come a week from today and will pack. We will get in the car on Wednesday of next week and start a new adventure. Needless to say, I am freaking the fuck out.

While this move is all very exciting, and Herr's new job is a true opportunity of a lifetime, my summer has gone to absolute shit. You see, we were supposed to be going to Hawaii this week with our friends to celebrate our anniversaries--our 15th, and our friends' 10th. I also missed my annual Girlie Weekend because we have too much to do. Fortunately, my girlfriends from Pittsburgh flew in last Thursday night and I got to spend the night with them before they headed off to Rehoboth and I headed back to Bethlehem. We had dinner at a very yummy restaurant in Philadelphia called, El Vez and laughed for several hours. My friend Dawn chronicled Girlie Weekend here. I did cry a little bit for missing it. Even though my Pittsburgh friends aren't nearby now, they will be even further away, and I know I will rarely see them.

This weekend was filled with birthday parties and our "Eat What's in Our Freezer" Party. Frankly, it's sad that we have had that party more than once. If nothing else, it was a great excuse for us to have our friends over to see us one more time before we go. We cleaned out our garage freezer and have only a little bit of food left that will last us through this week.

My work has been keeping me very busy, which I think is ultimately a good thing since it allows me to think about something other than our move. I got word that I will continue working for my company from home, which is wonderful. It will be a challenge as I am a social creature and need to be around people, but I will figure out a way to make it work. My co-workers surprised me today with the my favorite kind of box. In it was a beautiful bead bracelet. Of course, I got verklempt.

With all of our rushing around, I realized last week that I had forgotten to check out our new address on www.familywatchdog.us to make sure we didn't have any predators living nearby. We have always been really diligent about researching when we have moved to a new community. Imagine my horror when I discovered that we have a registered offender ON OUR STREET. I guess in the back of my head I was thinking that no one in this nice, brandy-new neighborhhood could POSSIBLY be a registered offender. Herr spent the entire evening talking me off the ledge. The next morning, he called me while I was on my way to work to tell me that the Predator's house is actually for sale. Thank goodness. I made sure to sign up for alerts to be sent to my email in case any more move in.

The rest of this week will continue to be busy. It will be filled with the annoying tasks of obtaining records we need, scheduling last-minute doctor appointments in order to get prescriptions, servicing cars, tying up loose ends, getting things signed and notarized, etc. I have to get the girls' immunization records so that we can submit them to their respective schools the minute we get there. Kindergarten is SO EARLY down there (August 11) that we haven't much time to get Ella situated. This weekend will involve one last birthday party and several more goodbyes. And more crying on my part.

Why Do I Have to Always Have the Answers?

2008-07-14T19:39:00.003-05:00

Our kids wake up early. Damn early. It's our fault, really. Herr wakes up at 5:00 AM during the week and is out the door at 5:15 AM. I then get up, shower and get ready for work and wake them up at 6:00AM to be out the door by 6:20AM. It's just how it is. Unfortunately, our children are so well trained to wake up early, that they have just never learned to sleep in on the weekends. Our sleep schedules will definitely be changing when we move to Nashville in a few weeks, but for now it is what it is.

Sunday morning I was fast asleep. I vaguely remember a dream about being somewhere with someone doing something. I felt a presence of someone next to me. I was starting to wake up, but I was playing the game of not letting on that I was waking up. Maybe the creature would go away. I kept my eyes closed and felt tiny little Genna hands pushing me to go toward the middle of the bed. I complied with my eyes closed. I felt her climb into the bed and get situated under the covers. She is such an adorable cuddle bear. I am sure it is early, but I don't care. These precious moments aren't going to last forever--I will soak them in as long as I can. I felt her tiny little hands as they held my face.

"Mommy, are boogers healphy?"

"WHAAAAAA?" my eyes flew open.

"Are boogers healphy?"

NOTE: The girls have been learning at school the difference between healthy food and junk food. At any given moment, one of the girls will ask if seltzer water is junk food (no) or if Pirate's Booty is healthy (not really, but it's Ok sometimes). Genna can't quite seem to pronounce the "th" in healthy.

"Eww Genna, gross!! Boogers are NOT healthy. Ever." I look at my alarm clock. It is 6:30 in the fucking morning.

"They're junk food?"

"No! They aren't that either! They are YUCKY!"

The look on her face indicated that she didn't understand that something could be neither healthy nor junk food. She also clearly didn't believe me when I said they were yucky. Genna LOVES to go after nose truffles. She has her fingers constantly in her nose. No amount of yelling or making fun of her has broken her of this habit. The majority of the time I don't even see anything on her finger to eat. She.just.likes.her.finger.in.her.nose. At this point, I am hoping that she will stop once the she gets older and the kids in her class start to ridicule her. I then tried to explain to her that boogers were made of dirt and since she didn't eat dirt, she shouldn't eat boogers. We laughed and went about our day. And yes, she still picked her nose all day long.

While I laughed and told several friends about Genna's question, I worried. Did I really explain boogers properly to her? Do I even KNOW what a booger is made out of? To check, I actually Googled, "What are boogers made of?" I read this. It was actually quite interesting. I had no idea that the nose and sinuses produce nearly one liter of mucus a day. I was relieved to read that, as far as a three-year-old's comprehension goes, I explained boogers properly.

And even though I was relieved, I was annoyed. I voiced my annoyance to Herr that I am always the one who has to answer the uncomfortable questions like, "Why does Daddy pee standing up?" and "What's that?" "That" has been a host of things over the years like the dog's penis, my breasts, a maxi-pad ("No it's NOT a diaper."), etc. I told Herr that if I can't manage to handle answering the booger question, how am I going to survive adolescence and discuss their periods and sex.

Herr said with a smile on his face, "I don't care because that isn't my job. When that time comes, I am going to go up to my man room, turn on some ESPN and forget that I am in a house full of women. It's all on you."

Herr will pay.

Dissed

2008-07-08T21:19:00.005-05:00

While we were in Nashville, my mother-in-law informed me that Ella had received flowers from a little boy at school. It seems that the little boy, Brenden, asked his mother if he could pick some flowers out of her garden so that he could give them to the prettiest girl in school. Of course, I got weepy, thinking that was the absolute sweetest thing I had ever heard! I didn't know who Brenden was, but he is OBVIOUSLY a sweet boy with impeccable taste.

When we came home and Ella retold the incident, I suggested that she make a thank-you note for Brenden and his mother. She happily drew a picture with Brenden and Ella in it, some flowers, a sun, moon AND stars. I told her how to spell, "thank you." Since I didn't know who Brenden was and we get to school really early, I figured I would put the note in Brenden's daily file--that way, his mother or father would pick it up.

I was running really late today, so I ended up dropping off the girls much later than I usually do. With the card in tow, I was getting Genna out of her car seat, when I heard Ella say, "Hi Brenden" to a little boy across the parking lot. His mother was taking a newborn out of another car seat while Brenden responded, "Hi Ella."

Ah-HA! Finally, this is the little boy who thinks so much of Ella. Hmmm, he is waaay cute, but why is he wearing such a thick gold chain around his 4 year old neck? Stop it, Hausfrau. Do.Not.Judge.

My thoughts were interrupted by Brenden's mother saying, "Oh. So this is Ella," in a tone that implied that she had just stepped in a pile of dog shit. Her face curled up into what should of been a smile, but was more like a lazy snarl. "Hmm, I wonder what she did to make Brenden want to pick flowers for her out of my garden."

My face instantly got hot. "What do you mean by that?" I asked. Unfortunately, there would be no answer because she sailed into the building and took her newborn to the infant room. I was fuming. I wish I had never established the rule about NOT hitting people when they are holding babies. By the look on her face and the tone of her voice, she was implying that my 5 YEAR OLD daughter was a tramp. Ella chased after her with the thank-you card, obviously unaware of what has just transpired. I didn't see the woman's reaction to the card, but I was so angry, I was tempted to grab it back from her. I waited for her to come outside of the infant room so that I could ask her why she would insult me and my daughter in this way. The problem was, there were dozens of children and parents milling about, so it's not like I would have been able to take part in any type of smack-down with her anyway. She was also taking her sweet-ass time and I needed to tend to my girls, so I reluctantly left the doorway of the infant room and went about my business. She left when I wasn't looking because her car was gone when I got back out to the parking lot.

I am annoyed that I didn't have an opportunity to call this bitter mass of a woman out. I just cannot imagine anyone having such poor social graces. I have said for years that I am so worried that some little girl is going to someday hurt my daughter with hateful words and that it would be all I can do to not kill that child for hurting her. I never thought I would hear such nastiness from a grown woman.

When I picked up the girls from school today, Ella mentioned that the card she made for Brenden ended up in the trash. I knew she was hurt because she gets hacked off when I dare throw away any scrap piece of paper at home that she scribbles on. What I wanted to say was, "Bitch didn't deserve your card anyway!" What I really told her that it didn't matter and that she had done a good thing by writing the thank you note.

Adventures in Homebuying

2008-07-05T12:19:00.003-05:00

We left for Nashville a week ago Saturday to find a new house. I wasn't thrilled to be going--don't know why, but I really didn't want to leave the girls. However, I knew it would be a really bad idea to go with them. Herr had made arrangements for us to be there 5 days, and I fought that tooth and nail. Herr wanted to have a couple of days to get to know Nashville. I argued that we would have the rest of our freaking lives to get to know Nashville as he has PROMISED that this is our last move. I am also in the middle of a prolonged project at work that I would at least like to finish.

The flight to Nashville was in my top 3 worst flights ever (not because of service, but because I was CERTAIN we would fall out of the sky due to the thunderstorms we were flying through.) I wasn't back to my old self until we had been back on terra firma for a couple of hours and indulged in a couple of very stiff cocktails.

I felt a lot better on Sunday when our friends Jeff and Lori came down from Paducah to help us look at homes. One of the best things about the move will be the fact that we will be less than 2 hours away from them. It was critical to have Lori help us look at homes because she is able to smack me back into reality. Our Realtor was amazing in that she really believed me when I said that I would need only a one and a half days to find a house and that I wanted to see the 20 I had previously chosen in one day. Three of the homes were sold, so we saw the other 17 on Sunday. It was exhausting, but I was pleased. The homes were all beautiful, but many of the communities in Brentwood, Franklin and Nolensville are "lifestyle communities," meaning that there is no back yard (or a front yard). I suppose people down there don't want to do yard work. Apparently they don't want to barbeque in their backyards either. My number one choice for a house was not the same as Herr's, but our deal was that I would agree to the move, so long as I chose the house. It was a new home, so I had no problem lowballing the homebuilder. It had been on the market since February, so we got a good price. The house across the street is almost completed but it is under contract for $110,000 more than our house. The only difference is that our house in 200 sq. smaller and ours doesn't have a basement. While I will miss having a basement, it certainly isn't worth another $110K. Our Realtor also informed us that we will be living right around the corner from Dolly Parton and some other country music stars who live here. I'll be sure to tell her you said hello when I see her in the cereal aisle of the Publix.

The most memorable part of our trip was definitely the time spent with our Realtor. Karen was incredibly efficient, friendly and really took an interest in making sure she made us happy. She also had the most amazing things flying out of her mouth when we least expected it. When I mentioned that we would need to tile the backsplash in the kitchen of the new house, Karen piped up, "Y'all, I got a FANTASTIC Mexican who does GREAT tile work." That sentence stayed suspended in the air for about 30 seconds before I said, "Wow! Fantastic!" After a couple of hours of looking at homes with her, we discovered that she has a FANTASTIC Mexican for everything. Not Colombians or Russians--only Mexicans. Karen has her "FANTASTIC Mexicans" Network (FMN for short), apparently waiting and ready to serve. Initially, I was appalled and I avoided Herr's glance for fear that I would start making comments. However, it became clear that she REALLY adores her FANTASTIC Mexicans. We met one of them when she took us to her country club for lunch on Monday to write up the contract. As we pulled up the driveway, she slammed on the brakes at the top of a steep hill and said, "Y'all, there's my FANTASTIC Mexican lawn guy!" She proceeded to roll down her window and coo, "Hiii Juan! How are you today?!" He seemed happy to see her and chatted with her for a moment. When she said her goodbyes and rolled up her window, she said, "Sometimes I sing my 'Juan Song,'" and proceeded to sing, "Ju-Ju-Ju-Juan Corona" to the tune of "My Sharona."

Later, I asked Karen to stop by a bank that I thought I had a dormant old checking account with from our days in Cincinnati. We had forgotten to bring our checkbook and there are no PNC Banks in Nashville. We needed to give some earnest money with the offer, so I had taken cash out of an ATM and figured I could go to the 5/3 Bank since I have an account there and get someone to write out a cashier's check. Karen offered to come in with us. Even though I thanked her and told her it wouldn't be necessary, she sashayed in with us and bellowed, "EXCUSE ME. MY NAME IS KAREN SO-AND-SO AND MY BROTHER-IN-LAW USED TO OWN THIS BANK. MY CLIENTS NEED SOME ASSISTANCE AND I NEED TO KNOW THAT YOU CAN HELP THEM."

Fortunately, the people there were very nice and didn't seem to be as shocked as Herr and I were at the polite, but loud outburst. The teller verified that I did, indeed have an old account (balance $28!) and processed our cashier's check. We found out that Karen's brother-in-law did used to own the bank and sold it. He is one of the richest men in Nashville with a 28,000 sq. ft. home and a staff. Herr and I got the distinct impression that Karen does Real Estate as a lark, but she is definitely the most efficient one we have had thus far.

We spent the remainder of our time meeting Herr's future boss, setting up daycare for Genna and critiquing the grocery stores. We will move down there on July 30, so that gives us only a few weeks left up here. Gulp.

And So It Begins

2008-06-26T17:40:00.002-05:00

Well, after nearly two months of keeping the house "show ready" and chasing after the girls with Windex to wash their fingerprints off of the sliding glass door, we have received an offer on the house. The offer is nothing less than shitty, but we are lucky to be getting additional monies from Herr's new employer to cover the loss. Here's the catch: the buyers want to close on July 31. As in 4 weeks from now.

Herr and I are flying to Nashville on Saturday to find a house, but not before I go see Dave Matthews with my girlfriends tomorrow.

Sometimes, it Really IS More Complicated

2008-06-22T08:44:00.004-05:00

In yesterday's newspaper, there was a front page article on Nathaniel's death and the amazing decision his parents made by donating his organs. Because of his organ donation, three people are alive today. After reading the article, I was completely in awe of Nathaniel's parents and Nathaniel himself.

According to the newspaper, they still aren't 100% sure what caused his death and are awaiting autopsy results. However, in February, he had febrile seizures, which are normally harmless and are caused by a fever. He recovered from the seizure in February. However, he had a seizure at school last Tuesday. Because the doctors weren't able to keep his body temperature and oxygen levels stable, his brain swelled and he died.

I can certainly understand now why the daycare director answered me the way she did. As far as she knew--there was a seizure. Besides, I am sure she has very little experience in dealing with an issue such as this, even if she had coaching from the corporate attorneys. The teacher who witnessed the fall with me really IS in Belize and won't even find out until tomorrow that Nathaniel died. Now that my conspiracy-theory imagination is on idle, I do understand that it was much more complicated than a fall.

I decided to send them a sympathy card. By the way, have you ever bought a sympathy card? I spent 30 minutes in the card aisle at Target tearing up and trying to choose the card that sucked the least. In the end, I wrote them a note sharing my last memory of Nathaniel from the perspective that he was an amazingly tough kid and that it was a testament to them as parents. I didn't go into detail about the fall--I just didn't see the point. The seizure would not have been caused by a fall.

While I can at least sleep at night now, knowing that the daycare wasn't trying to do a massive cover-up, it is still really tough to imagine that these sorts of medical tragedies happen. It's tough to imagine the hell the parents are going through. But the silver lining in this very dark cloud is that there are two children and an adult alive right now because of his gift.

Gone Baby Gone

2008-06-18T19:36:00.003-05:00

I was instantly sick to my stomach on Monday when I saw the letter that Herr had brought home from daycare. One of the children, "N," had "become ill on Tuesday, June 10 and died of complications" on Friday, June 13. The note went on to say that "N" had been a hero because his organs had been donated and that we needed to respect the privacy of the family at this time. Since I don't socialize with any of the parents, I don't know any last names at daycare--I just know a few names of some of the children. I called the daycare because I wanted to know if "N" had been in either of the girls' classes. If so, I needed to figure out how to handle this with them, if at all.

When I called the daycare, the Director informed me that I certainly did know "N" because he and his father walk in the exact same time I did every day. At that moment, my heart stopped.

I am one of three parents who show up at 6:30AM to drop off my kids. In addition to me, there is a woman who drops off her two toddlers and a father who drops off his toddler. For over a year, the father and I have said good morning to each other, commented on how much our kids have each grown. I told him it was a phase a couple of months ago when "N" was getting belligerent when he would drop him off. I saw this little boy go from being a baby brought into the facility in his car carrier, to being a 16 month old who was a wobbly walker.

My heart stopped for another reason. Once I was told it was "N" who had died, I remembered that last Tuesday morning, I had been a couple of minutes late in dropping off the girls. "N's" father was walking out as I was getting Genna out of our car. We exchanged nods and I went inside. The classes in this facility do not have walls. They are divided by bookshelves that come up to one's hip. I was on one side of a bookshelf, getting the girls' breakfasts ready. One of the teachers, "N" and one of the other toddlers was on the other side. The teacher and I were chatting about who knows what, when she suddenly said, "N, you are going to FALL!" She and I both froze as he fell. Hard. He hit the bookshelf with the back of his head. It made a strange thumping noise. Neither of us moved. I didn't move because, well, kids fall. I trained myself to not scream out when the girls fell as toddlers, because I didn't want to scare them or encourage them to cry. We waited a split second, but he didn't cry. He didn't make a sound. He just looked a little stunned. I looked at the teacher and said, "Now THAT is one tough kid." She said, "I know! It's amazing." I then turned around, kissed my kids good-bye and left.

After remembering all of this, I asked if "the fall" had anything to do with "N's" death. I was told, "I can't tell you." To me, that tells me that it did. I couldn't sleep Monday night because I had convinced myself that I had been a foot away from him and didn't do anything when he fell. I spoke to the director again yesterday and told her that I needed to make sure that the fall didn't have anything to do with his death. Guess what she told me?

"There was no fall."

"Oh yes there was," I said. " I was there when it happened."

She then went on to say that she couldn't tell me what happened but, "there were a lot of different factors involved in what happened," and that she was sure that "the girls probably saw the ambulance come on Tuesday morning," and that "it was all really complicated."

I am beside myself. On the one hand, my heart is completely broken for these parents who have lost their only child. I cannot even imagine the utter torture they are going through.I pray I never have to experience that. However, I am very suspicious of the fact that the daycare refuses to disclose the details of his death. I know that if he had died from a contagious disease, the health department would require that parents be notified. I would think that any time a child is taken away by ambulance from a daycare and later dies, it has to be disclosed. What if he had gotten into something poisonous? What if he choked on something?

I keep thinking about the fact that the teacher who witnessed the fall hasn't been in school since that day. Is the school trying to cover up the fall? Is the teacher REALLY in Belize this week and doesn't even know that "N" died the way they are saying? I don't think that any negligence occurred when the fall happened. However, if the fall was the cause of his "illness" I don't know what happened after the fall, or how long before an ambulance was called. What happens if the school gets sued? Only two of us saw the fall.

I know that I wouldn't be reacting this way if I didn't know who he was or saw what I saw last Tuesday. I would be devastated for the family, and I would still want to know the cause of death, but I don't think I would be this obsessed with it. If I could be sure that the fall had nothing to do with his death I would be able to let it rest. Eventually.

What do you think? Do parents really have the right to know? If the daycare is going to deny that his death had anything to do with the fall, do I drop it? Do I contact the parents? Do I wait to see if the school gets sued?

A Letter to the Men in my Neighborhood

2008-06-16T19:01:00.004-05:00

Dear Steve, Mack, Bill and Lon:

I feel quite lucky that we moved to a neighborhood where the homeowners really care about their homes and do so much to keep things beautiful. We have no cars on cinder blocks or unkempt lawns here. Most of you quickly shovel or snow blow after a snowfall. You clean your gutters, paint your shutters and wash your cars regularly.

Most of you cut your grass twice a week--TWICE a week! It is amazing that the grass has been growing so fast to warrant that, but you all are totally on a schedule. It has even shamed Herr into doing the same thing in order to keep up with all of you and not have the loser lawn on the block.

I do, however, have one request. I need all of you to start wearing shirts when you cut your grass. I am begging you. I am trying to sell my home. I think your collective moobs and bellies may be hampering our home sale.

Mack, I first noticed that you were doing the semi-nude lawn care last year. I cringed last year when he would see me and wave. Now that we don't speak and you don't wave, it is a little easier to take. However, you insist on wearing shorts that were obviously from your 1984 high school gym class. They are shorter than Daisy Dukes and REALLY tight, Mack! Have some dignity.

Steve and Bill--I almost feel bad for including you in this letter. After all, you are both well over 70. I realize that you both probably have the, "Fuck it--I'm old and I won't wear a shirt outside if I don't want to" attitude. Maybe you are trying to speed up the Golden Years by getting skin cancer. Whatever your reasons may be, I need you to consider my children. They have asked on more than one occasion why you both have such "long" breasts. I know that we can all look forward to having boobs that look like socks full of nickels, but lets keep them under wraps, shall we?

And Lon--don't think I forgot about you. How can I forget you when your image is permanently burned into my retinas?! You spend, by far, the most time prancing nearly naked in your front yard. Then, as if all of the cutting, trimming and sprucing wasn't enough, you then will take your garden hose and water your perfectly black-topped driveway for an HOUR. Not your lawn. Your DRIVEWAY!! What the Hell is wrong with you? Do you not pay for your water? I sure as Hell pay for mine. Is there such misery in that house of yours that the only thing left for you to do is water your driveway? Since you do this every damned Sunday, it stands to reason that people who are driving up to our Sunday afternoon open houses are seeing your crazy half-naked, water-wasting ass and thinking, "Ummm, let's go to the next house on our list."

Now before you all start thinking I am a big old bitch, hear me out. Have any of you ever seen me in the front yard in a bikini? No. Have you ever seen any part of me flopping around? NO. Between my pasty white-girl complexion, varicose veins and my jiggly, mushy parts, I know that it is not in good taste to be strutting around my front yard like I am Giselle Bundchen. That ship has sailed.

By all means, do what you want in your back yards. I don't care if you do naked Slip n' Slide back there. Just please start wearing a shirt when you are in your front yards.

Sincerely,

Misfit Hausfrau

I See Now That I Could Have Lied

2008-06-11T19:52:00.002-05:00

Ella's bangs had gotten long and annoyed her. This morning when I was trying to get her ready for school, she impatiently pushed her bangs to the right side of her face.

"Wow honey, your bangs have really grown fast. I think we need to get Miss Krystal to cut them," I said.

Ella quickly agreed because Ella LOVES Miss Krystal. When Miss Krystal isn't styling hair at GadZooks, she teaches ballet. In Ella's eyes, she's a princess. But then I remembered how tough it was to sometimes get an appointment. Plus, I knew that there was NO WAY that Ella was going to get her hair done before I did. At that moment, I told Ella that I would trim her bangs up in a jiffy.

After about 5 minutes of desperately looking for scissors, I finally found a pair that appeared to be a cross between kid's safety scissors and nail clippers. I figured I had luck on my side because I had never used them before so I knew they would be sharp.

I was wrong. It didn't help that the scissors had a cutting surface of less than two inches, so what would have been a simple trim with any other pair of scissors, turned into several attempts to trim her bangs. I couldn't get them even, so the bangs got shorter and shorter. Finally, Ella said, "My hair looks great Mommy!" I believed her. They were short, but somewhat cute-ish.

When we got to school, one of the teachers said, "Ella, your hair is so beautiful!' Ella preened, smiled and graciously thanked the teacher. I was pretty pleased with myself that I was able to successfully trim her hair. I mean, she got immediate compliments for Christ's sake. Right then and there I decided that I would no longer take her to the salon. I could TOTALLY cut her hair from now on. It really was much easier than I thought.

As I was getting Ella's breakfast together, the teacher pulled me aside and said, "Wow, did Ella cut her hair? Don't worry, I think almost every girl her age has done it. "

"Uh, no. She didn't cut her hair," I said, quickly realizing my mistake in admitting to the disaster.

"Really??? said the teacher with a perplexed look on her face. "I don't understa... OOHHHH!"

Genna's Lofty Goals

2008-06-10T09:36:00.004-05:00

While I drove the girls to school this morning, I told Genna that she and I may fly to Indiana next weekend to visit Busia.

"Is Ella coming with us?" Genna asked.

"No, she will stay home with Daddy." I said.

"Yeah," said Ella, "When I turn 16 and am REALLY BRAVE, Mommy is going to take me to Paris so that I can see where Madeline lives!"

"OH YEAH?!" said Genna. "When I get really really big and REALLY, REALLY tall, I'm going to fly to NEW JERSEY!!!!!"

Is Anyone REALLY Ever Ready for This Conversation?

2008-06-01T19:37:00.001-05:00

I pride myself in keeping my children in a bubble. We are strict with their diets, they don't watch commercial television, they don't play on our computers, and Herr and I choose their friends. Yes, I AM one of "those" mothers. Bite me. There's just one problem. For 40 hours a week, they are out of the safe and secure bubble. They are at daycare.

Simply put, daycare is the Devil's playground. These poor kids don't stand a chance at having an innocent life when there is "Libby" in Ella's class whose real name MUST be Heather because she is an evil little child who dictates who can be friends with whom and when. She also has told Ella on several occasions what she can and cannot wear. Then there is Chase, who has taught Genna such lovely words as, "Shut up," and "stupid." Ella told me just this week that Miss Rene let her try some different sodas to see which one she liked best, even though she knows she is not allowed to drink soda.

While I have tried really hard to not be a pain in the ass mother at school, I have pretty much worn out the carpet to the Director's office from the entrance because I am always bringing up something. I was the one who complained about the fact that parents leave their cars running in the parking lot and we have to breathe in the exhaust every day. I actually had to complain to the corporate office about that one. I also have complained in the past because they have lost the girls' medical information twice, and then made me hurry up and produce new copies so they wouldn't get fined by the state. I have also complained about the fact that they give virtually no notice for things like the Mother's Day Tea and the Spring party, so I am not able to change my schedule to attend. I know that the Director is counting the days until we transfer the girls to their other location that has a kindergarden in the Fall, or we move to Nashville, whichever comes first.

In all fairness to the daycare, there are some things that happen that no one can control.
Recently, Ella came home from school and informed me that she had just found out where babies came from.

"Oh, yeah? Umm, tell me what you heard."

"Well," she said, "First you need to be a grown-up. Or a teenager."

"Whaaa? Who told you a teenager could have a baby?!"

"Oh, Jade told me."

"I see," I said, as I made a mental note to have a talk with Jade's mother,"Then what happens?"

"Weeeellllllll, once you are a grown-up or teenager, you get a boyfriend, get married and then a baby shows up in your belly. I want a baby in MY belly. Do you have one in your belly right now, Mommy? You kind of look like you do."

A Wedding to Remember

2008-05-11T21:26:00.021-05:00

One of the things that really sucks about moving so much is that we have dear friends scattered from one coast to another. That is also one of the good things about said friends. Herr and I just returned from a remarkable weekend away. Our friend from college, Mark, married the love of his life, Phil. Herr and I had been planning for this weekend nearly as long as Mark and Phil planned their wedding. Not only was Saturday the wedding, it was also Herr's birthday. Combine that with Mother's Day AND the fact that this was all happening in the New York metro area, we had the perfect storm brewing for a completely decadent weekend. We were determined to pack as much fun in 48 hours as two nearly middle-aged parents could possibly muster. Shit--I've actually admitted in print that we are middle-aged.

We didn't care that it poured the ENTIRE day on Friday. That just added to the adventure. Herr and I got into Penn Station around Noon and immediately started running around like a couple of kids on Senior Skip Day. It probably helps to know that we are not the type of couple who hangs out at the touristy places. We are walkers and explorers and love to just soak in everything, even if that means inhaling the fumes of death coming from the subway grates or getting poked in the eyeball every ten minutes by someone's umbrella. After grabbing a bite to eat near our hotel, we walked the streets of Midtown getting completely soaked.

Based on a recommendation from Tony (Thanks Tony!), we went to dinner in the Lower East Side at Freemans. Getting there was a blast. When we couldn't get a cab (it WAS 6PM Friday and it was POURING) we went ahead and threw caution to the wind by getting into a gypsy cab. The poor driver just couldn' t understand that the restaurant was in an alley and didn't have a street number. When I told him to drop us off just before the alley, the driver became very put off and said, "No Miss, I drop you off at door." I tried to explain that the alley couldn't accommodate a vehicle, but he shook his head and insisted he would drop us off at the door.

The food there was fantastic. We enjoyed the hot artichoke dip and I had some kick-ass macaroni and cheese. Herr had sausages on a bed of greens, which were quite yummy. We didn't expect to have entertainment, but we did. It came in the form of the table next to us. The young woman complained to the server that she didn't know that when she ordered the, "whole fish" it would come out of the kitchen with the head AND tail and that she didn't know there was so much skin and bones. She said that the skin was grossing her out. The server quietly suggested that she flip the fish OPEN because that's the part to eat. Voila! She still couldn't manage because she was too busy having a lover's spat with her boyfriend.

After dinner, we went back to the hotel and took a nap because, um, we're LAME and we needed to rest up before we met our friends for drinks at the Waldorf. Since we are usually in bed at 9PM on most Friday nights, we knew we needed to rally. It was a wise choice on our part since we ended up not getting back to our hotel until after 1AM.

Herr and I ended up running around Chinatown and Little Italy and SoHo Saturday morning. I got a great manicure in Chinatown and got to stop by Pearl River Mart. I couldn't possibly come to New York without running in there and picking up some crap I never knew I needed. On this trip, I bought the girls some brocade mary janes and alarm clocks that bark like a dog.

The wedding itself was at Mark and Phil's loft in Hoboken. We got there around 5:15 and enjoyed some champagne and milled about until the ceremony started. It was a really intimate setting and incredibly beautiful. Phil's friend Dina spoke during the service about the rings and that they symbolize much more than the circle of life. It was pretty moving and I got a wee-bit misty-eyed.

People commented that they were surprised that Mark got teary during the services. PULEEZE! I have been blind-ass drunk with the man many time during college and after. He and I have both gotten teary eyed over some pretty ridiculous stuff. I would have been much more surprised had Phil cried, or had Mark NOT cried.

After Mark and Phil were officially hitched, we got on the bus (or "coach" as Phil kept referring to them) and headed into the city to have a reception at the Modern. The reception was in the private dining room at the Modern. We were blown away by how beautiful the room was. It overlooked a courtyard that was filled with people having drinks and enjoying the beautiful evening.

I feel I should mention that, while I have attended many lovely weddings, Mark and Phil's wedding has completely raised the bar in terms of elegance and good taste. Think about it: Mark has spent his career in the New York restaurant industry and has a position with a c ompany that gives him thousands of contacts in the hospitality industry. Phil is a man of impeccable taste. A wedding planned by two gay men is just no match for a hetero couple. Frankly, it isn't even fair that a gay wedding and a hetero wedding be compared to each other. I should also note that their friend Thomas, who is an event planner, also helped them out. Those three are the equivalent of Superman, Spiderman and Aquaman combining forces to fight evil. Herr and I were the equivalent of Scooby and Shaggy. Also, a gay wedding is always going to rock because there are going to be fewer problematic people there. There will be no creepy Uncle Al there because he probably doesn't approve, and Mark and Phil wouldn't want him there anyway!

During the champagne and hor' douvres portion of the evening, Herr and I were able to meet and mingle with many of Mark's friends whose stories we have heard over the years, but never got a chance to meet. It was definitely like putting the pieces together of a huge puzzle. It was evident that Mark's friends felt exactly the same way about us.

The food and drink were impeccable, but the people at the reception also made it a night to remember. Mark had left me a voicemail the Saturday before, telling me that he was on his way home with a huge bottle of wine so that he and Phil could figure out the seating chart. They needn't have stressed. Everyone was incredibly nice and interesting, and several were quite entertaining. I have a feeling that I could get into trouble with a couple of his friends if I spent any amount of time with them.

After the reception, Mark made sure we all got goody bags from Kyotofu. I had every intention of saving our goodies to give to the girls, but that didn't happen. It wasn't until I ate every finger licking goody out of the bag that I actally looked at the name on the bag and noticed that the word, "Kyotofu" contains the word, "tofu." Shut up--I was drunk! Those treats were amazing!

The night was still young, so Mark and Phil had planned for everyone to meet up in the lounge at the Shoreham for a nightcap. I couldn't help but notice Phil and Mark stealing glances at each other while we were there. It was so sweet. It reminded me of my wedding day. Except mine was at the St. Louis County Court House. And we were couple of #14. Actually, it didn't remind me of my wedding at all. Our wedding was nice, but there was a rather large twinge of fear between us. We were so young and poor and didn't know what life had in store for us. Mark and Phil don't have to worry about that. They should know that their lives together will be just fine.

House For Sale

2008-05-06T10:02:00.002-05:00

You read the title correctly--our house in on the market. To the maybe two readers who don't already know, Team Hausfrau is, yet again, relocating. Herr has gotten the position of a lifetime, so we are moving on. While I am thrilled that Herr has received this amazing opportunity, I am a little nervous about moving again. Herr has promised that this is our last move. It better be. We are moving to the land of Dollywood and the Grand Ol' Opry. Nashville, here we come!

The only snag is that we currently have to lie to all of the neighbors on our street about where we are going because our neighbor across the street works for the same company as Herr. Since we no longer speak to those neighbors, we can't risk having the neighbors talk to other co-workers and then get Herr fired before we sell the house. And since we don't know who those neighbors are friendly with on our street, it is just best to lie to all of them. The neighbors behind us know the truth and we are really sad to be leaving them as we have become close to them over the past year.

This move will be good for a lot of reasons. We will be closer to the grandmothers and we will be only 90 minutes away from the girls' godparents. We are also going to be living in the same town as my cousin and his wife who are also relocating there. It will be strange but nice to be living close to family.

So there it is. The fun has only just begun...

Cook Forest

2008-04-30T20:29:00.009-05:00

We are back from our weekend in Cook Forest. Our friend Jenny from Pittsburgh invited a group of us years ago to experience her family's annual reunion at these cabins and we have been visiting the last weekend in April ever since.

When we started to come as a group maybe 10 years ago, it was a weekend of heavy drinking, poker playing, hiking, canoeing, laughing, reading magazines and books, eating a ton of junk food and staring at the campfire until 1AM. Now, we have nine additional creatures who party with us. Those would be our children. They range in age from almost 10 to 7 weeks old. While it is definitely a different vibe now (on account of the bubbles and sidewalk chalk), it is still just as much fun.

It probably helps that we don't drink so much anymore.

Here are Ella, Ava, Genna and Flora probably planning a takeover of the junk food.

Herr and Genna playing in the stream

Hausfrau Update

2008-04-02T20:07:00.005-05:00

Life has been going at a frenetic pace here at Hausfrau Haus recently. In the past three weeks, I have flown home to visit my mother, hosted Easter dinner and had friends from Pittsburgh stay, painted some rooms in our house, and drove to Pittsburgh with some girlfriends to attend a baby shower for our friend Jenny. There has also been a case of strep and my birthday thrown in for good measure. To top it off, Herr is leaving this Saturday morning to attend a conference that will seem to last forever.

This is all the tip of the iceberg. Changes are a-brewin at Hausfrau Haus. It is going to be a very interesting summer.

By the way, if you are looking for some new music, I highly recommend the latest Counting Crows cd. I am also listening to Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings constantly. It's not a new album, but I have really been enjoying it.

Happy Belated Easter!

2008-04-01T09:56:00.004-05:00

Better late than never.

Letter to Herr's Former Employer #2

2008-03-27T12:19:00.003-05:00

Dear Proctor & Gamble-

You may recall that I wrote you a letter not quite two years ago concerning your corporate fuckery in deciding to dissolve the division my husband and several scientists were a part of. Do you remember that? Didn't think so. You are too busy counting your mountains of cash.

At any rate, our life is fine, thank you very much. My husband is gainfully employed and we have recovered from the trauma of being hoodwinked to move half-way across the country, only to be told, "Ha Ha! We were kidding!" a mere 11 months later.

I have spent the past couple of years boycotting your products (except for Swiffers--damn you to HELL!). While I loathe the Target brand of teeth whitening strips, I refuse to purchase yours. We have switched to Colgate and no longer use Crest. While it certainly takes me longer to read the packages to see who the manufacturer, I feel it is worth it and my little way of sticking it to you.

Yesterday, I went to the store because I was in need of some, shall we say, "feminine hygiene" products in a hurry. I ran to the CVS by my house and noticed that Always were on sale. I was in too much of a hurry to actually care that they were a P&G product. I just needed to get home. I raced home, went to the bathroom and ripped open the the package of pads. And then I saw it. You people had the audacity to print on the backing of the pad, "Have a Happy Period."

What. The.Fuck. Is this some kind of sick, twisted joke? Who in the HELL at P&G thought it was a good idea to put those words on pads? Was it someone who actually HAS periods? I refuse to believe that any woman in this world who has experienced the monthly torture of the bleeding, the skin breakouts, the CRAMPS, the crying jags while watching commercials on television, the cravings for fast food and Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, would EVER think that it was a fine idea to put the perky words, "Have a Happy Period" on a God-damned maxi pad. Do you think that the average woman will see that and say, "Aww that is so nice that P&G is wishing me nothing but sunshine and lollipops during my period."?

Let me repeat the words I wrote almost two years ago in my first letter to you: Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Sincerely,

Misfit Hausfrau

Am I Being a Bitch?

2008-03-20T21:22:00.002-05:00

Tonight, I received an email from a relative, requesting my address and my sister's because her mother is getting ready to send out baby shower invitations.

My mother, sister and I are waiting for thank you notes for the rather generous wedding shower gifts AND wedding presents we gave to her and her husband TWO YEARS AGO. None of us got so much as a kiss-my-ass.

I was raised in a home where we used manners. I was raised in a home where we wrote thank you notes. Period. Amen. I have instilled this habit in my girls. They may not really know how to write yet, but I write the notes for them or they draw pictures. When they are older, they will be expected to do them or they won't keep the gift. And as I am writing this, I am panicking, thinking I may have forgotten to write a note for a birthday gift Genna got after her birthday--shit!

Am I being unrealistic? Too uptight? Too Sanctimonious?

Career Aspirations Dashed

2008-03-12T06:57:00.005-05:00

When I picked the girls up from daycare yesterday, Ella was not typical chipper self. After a few minutes of whining in the car, I asked her what was wrong.

"Mommy, Evan told me that mermaids and sharks aren't real."

"Well," I said, "sharks are VERY real."

"But mermaids aren't."

"No, you're right. Mermaids aren't real."

Then the tears started.

"BUT MOMMY, I want to be a mermaid when I grow up!!! What am I going to be NOW?"

"Honey, you can be anything you want to be."

"BUT I WANT TO BE A MERMAID BUT THEY AREN"T REEEEEAAAAALLLLLLL."

"Ella, it's OK. Whatever you decide to be when you grow up will be great. You'll see."

*Sniff*

"OK, I guess I'll be a fairy then."

I Knew This Would Happen Eventually

2008-02-27T22:23:00.002-06:00

Overheard last night after scolding Genna for being fresh:
"Ella, Mommy is so mean. She is not going to be my friend anymore and she can't come to my private party. Hey Ella, only you and Linus and Bosco are coming to my private party. And Mommy and Daddy. Oh, no. Mommy can't come cuz she's so mean. Come on Ella, my party is downstairs."

What three-year-old has a private party?

Thoughts on Seattle

2008-02-17T11:13:00.013-06:00

It's hard to believe that merely a week ago, we were lounging around having an amazing breakfast at our friends' house in Seattle. Herr and I spent a fantastic four days there, entertained by our friends, Frank and Laura, who have lived there for eight years.

I feel I should mention that Seattle is the hilliest.city.ever. It is hillier than San Francisco and Pittsburgh combined. When one walks to the Public Market, it is a breeze to walk down. Once laden with groceries for dinner, it is a BEAST of a hill to walk back up. I am thinking that the residents of Seattle, in theory, should have amazing calves and thighs.

We spent a lot of time exploring the neighborhoods of Seattle. Sometimes, we spent time deciding which road we should take:

Sometimes we drove around until we found the perfect view:

I also spent the four days trying to figure out how we could get some quick cash to buy one of the 200 dream homes I saw there:
It wasn't just the houses I loved--the views they had from their windows were most assuredly priceless.

Laura also took us past sites that were of interest if you love movies like, "Sleepless In Seattle." She even drove us past the apartment that was the backdrop for one of my favorite movies of my collge years, "Singles."

I also had the luxury of going to a movie! Herr and I always talk a good game about going to the movies when we have the very-occasional babysitter, but we are usually too tired once we've eaten dinner. Laura and I went without the guys as Herr and Frank would have been forced to relinquish their male memberships cards had they gone to this movie.

We got to visit all of the things we wanted to see while we were in Seattle. We visited the Olympic Sculpture Park which was really cool. I took some really neat photos at the Gas Works Park, which is on Lake Union. I had all but begged Laura to book us a couple of mani/pedis instead of going to The Museum of Flight, but it turned out to be much cooler than I anticipated. We got to see the inside of an older Air Force One. They also had an exhibit called, "Style in the Aisle: The History of Fasion in Flight." I'm not stupid--how else would you get women to come to this museum and willingly stay for 3+ hours without a mall in sight?!

The only thing that turned out to be an enormous disappointment was The Seattle Underground in Pioneer Square. Herr had been really excited to see this and had been looking forward to it for a couple of weeks. Unfortuantely, you learn AFTER you have paid your $14 per person, that the tour is a venue where failed comedians come to die. Our tour guide was Gail. I'm all for a little dash of humor with my history lesson, but we quickly tired of Gail's Ellen DeGeneres-talking-under-her-breath-with-the-punchline schtick. Once we were able to head up to the street, we turned left while the rest of the group went straight. At least we had been able to enjoy the Elliott Bay Book Company while we were in Pioneer Square.

The best part of Seattle was the food! When Frank wasn't feeding us amazing food, he and Laura were taking us to really good restaurants. It would seem natural that a visit with Frank and Laura revolves around food. We all met 17 years ago when we worked at an Italian Restaurant in Bloomington Indiana. Laura, Herr and I were servers, paying our way through IU and Frank was the Chef of the restaurant. We are two sets of couples who married after our employments at Grisanti's (there are actually two more couples who married after working there!) We know that if we are with Frank, we will eat well.

Geraldine's on Capitol Hill was amazing for breakfast and totally worth the wait. La Carta de Oaxaca may very well have been the best Mexican food I have ever had. It is a favorite of Frank and Laura's, and for good reason. Laura said that if you think you want to go there for dinner, there is no point in trying unless you get there at 5:00PM. She said that people wait around the block for hours just to eat there. It is a tiny family-owned place that may seat about 30 people. They have a "small plate" menu, so you can order a ton of different things to try. The fish tacos were pretty amazing. Tuta Bella was also outrageously good. It is one of only a handful of true neapolitan pizza restaurants in the United States. The salads and pizza were so.damn.good. They also served this crazy chocolate latte thingy made with Nutella which may as well be labeled, "crack in a cup." It has replaced Starbuck's, Gingerbread Latte and the best latte ever. Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention our wonderful meal at the Palace Kitchen. While it did have a more sophisticated menu than most, the Grilled Chicken Wings with coriander cream were pretty damn flawless. I am not a wings kind of a gal, but they were good. They were so good that Herr has been inspired to try to replicate them at home.

And now, I am back home, wondering how I can parlay my blog into a food review site...

February 15

2008-02-15T00:08:00.000-06:00

I remember February 14, 2001 like it was yesterday. Herr and I were having a lovely dinner at a restaurant outside of Pittsburgh. I had been edgy all night, worried about my parents. You see, my father was nearing the end of his life. He had been dying a slow and agonizing death, but in the weeks after Christmas 2000, he had started to rapidly deteriorate. His heart transplant surgeon and nurses drove to my parents' home two hours away to say their good-byes to him after it was determined that there would be no more trips to the hospital. They had known him for 10 years. I supppose the end has to be near if that happens.

I had been spending a lot of time in Indiana helping my mother care for him. I had been there the previous weekend and planned to go home in a day or two, but I told Herr that I had a feeling that I should go home that very minute. My husband, being the voice of reason, reminded me that it was a six hour drive home and I couldn't see at night when I drive. He told me to pack a bag when I got home, go into the office in the morning and leave for Indiana after I had time to talk to my boss.

The next morning, I got to my office before 7:00 so that I could check some emails and leave some voicemails before I left. My phone rang at 7:10. When I picked it up, it was my mom, telling me that Dad had just died. Even though I knew that this news was coming, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach and couldn't breathe.

I don't beat myself up much anymore for not going with my gut and driving home that night. Except on February 15. I would have given anything to have been there so that my mother wouldn't have had to go through the torture of watching the bumbling EMTs try to figure out how to get him out of their bedroom. The angle of the room and the narrow width and zig-zag of the hallway made it impossible for the overweight EMTs to take him down the hallway and out of the house. Instead, they took him out through a fucking window like he was a piece of furniture.

I would have given anything to be there to hold his hand because he was so very afraid to die. While he would never admit it to my mother, he had some concerns about the afterlife. No more Packers and Cubs games, no more breakfasts at Louie's Cafe, no more books to read, no more money-making schemes to plan, no more time with his family. He was worried about Mom and what was going to happen to her after he was gone. A week before he died he made me promise that I would always take care of Mom and my sister. Time was running out and he was terrified. He did not go peacefully. He fought tooth and nail. It wasn't until the hospice worker told him to just close his eyes and let go that he finally did.

Most of the time, it seems like Dad died a lifetime ago. In some ways he did. My life is so much different now with two children, changed jobs and having lived in 5 different places since 2001. But every February 15, the pain and the tears return. Every year I am surprised that the rawness of my feelings and the pain in my stomach is just as strong as they were the day he died.

Happy Valentine's Day

2008-02-14T21:28:00.002-06:00

In case you were wondering, Ella was in charge of choosing their outfits and accessories. If you are familiar with Ella's creative sense of style, this should come as no surprise. She lives for holidays that have a corresponding "color" to them.

Genna Turned Three!

2008-02-06T11:23:00.000-06:00

Genna had her birthday party on Saturday. She was pretty pleased with herself. Despite some coaching with Ella over several days, she still managed to forget that she had a birthday a couple of months earlier. She got pretty jealous of some of Genna's loot--particularly a Tinkerbell Doll. Ella went on and on about the doll and asked me to leave the party and buy one right that minute. After I told her to chill out, she asked if she could have one for her birthday. I told her that if she still wanted one 10 months from now, maybe she would. Then she asked who bought it. When I told her that our neighbors, Lori and Brian purchased, she walked over to them and asked if they would buy one for her when it was her birthday. At least she asked with manners--at least I think she did.

Herr and I are off to Seattle in about an hour. Sans children. Awwww yeah.
We'll be back Monday morning.

She Just Can't Pass Up Pushing a Button

2008-01-27T13:11:00.000-06:00

A few days ago, Herr and I picked up the girls from daycare. After about 10 minutes in the car, we suddenly heard Ella SOBBING in the back seat.

"What is the matter, Honey?"

"But, but, GENNA said that the moon is hers and it can't be mine, so I can't look at it out of her window and I can't see it out of miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnneeeee."

Oh course, my reaction is fairly typical for me when faced with this constant nonsense: "Are you KIDDING ME Ella? How OLD are you?!"

*sniff* "Five."

Then I look over at Genna, who is smiling like the Cheshire Cat and making a "heh heh heh" noise.

And then I turned around, looked at Herr, and started to quietly laugh in the sleeve of my coat so the girls wouldn't see. Then I got all stern and told Genna that she is going into timeout when we get home and I inform them both that the moon belongs to everyone.

This sort of game occurs every single day. Ella is the sweet innocent antelope grazing in the savannah, and Genna is the cheetah, going in for the kill. Genna lives for pushing Ella's buttons and driving her to the brink of insanity and she isn't even 3 yet. Ella has been 5 for a couple of months and she continues to fall for it and not stand up for herself. Ella's immediate reaction is to start crying. I have told her to pretend that Genna is an annoying mosquito and that she should just ignore her. But she can't. I have told Genna to stop being mean to her sister. But she can't.

I don't know, maybe this is just the way it is for siblings. I hope not. I don't think I will survive their teenage years if this doesn't stop.

At Least She Told the Truth

2008-01-24T21:28:00.000-06:00

Herr to Genna this evening:

"Hey Genna, are you going to come and snuggle with Ella, Mommy and me in bed or do want to stand in front of the tv and pick your nose?"

"I want to pick my nose."

This Was Just What I Needed

2008-01-16T20:13:00.000-06:00

I came home tonight after having dinner with one of our company's VPs and promptly ate two frozen waffles. Everyone ordered from the "small plates" part of the menu. NO ONE was going to be the one to order an actual dinner. Can you tell it was a dinner of only women? Normally when it is the five of us, we are not afraid to eat, but the VP had everyone on their best dietary behavior. As it was, I was the pig who actually had soup AND a salad, and nibbled on the appetizer (for the record, the food was REALLY good!)

The real bummer was that I have recently developed a sensitivity to alcohol. I can no longer drink wines and many beers without my face turning the crimson and splotchy. I thought I was safe with one of my all-time favorites, Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. I didn't even get to drink a third sip. The worst part of the evening occurred on the way out the door when I looked in my wallet and realized that I didn't have a dollar to give the coat check girl. My co-worker and I BOTH had to hit up my boss for a dollar. My co-worker and I tried to be subtle about it, but that didn't work out so well. Wait, no, the worst part of the evening was when I was in the car on the way to the restaurant and mistook my Tide To-Go Bleach pen for lip gloss.

I checked my emails and got the following photos and commentary from my friend Mark. I can't think of a better way to unwind than to make fun of others. Be sure to leave your votes for your favorite photos in my comments section. And if you actually KNOW any of these people, EVEN BETTER! ENJOY!

Actual Olan Mills photos Actual

Those glasses came free with a purchase of Brut cologne.hose glasses came free with a purchase of Brut cologne.

Thoughtful glance. Mirthful glance. Two sides of a delightful coin.

Drake won Bitchin'est Senior Mullet by a landslide.

That dude wore a tie for nothing.

The Purvis family made several stops along theOregon Trailto document their six-month journey. This photo was taken just two weeks before the dysentery took Momma to Jesus.

I wanted a shot like this for my wedding. The Mrs. said no.

It's called a leisure suit, ladies and germs, and if you didn't have one in the early 70s, you were a big fat loser.

Once they had two or three, how did they ever find enough time alone to make more?

No Comment

Olan Mills backdrop #4: Bucolic Meadow with Split Rail Fence. Is that an animal carcass behind her?

Oh, this is super. What better way to capture the charm and innocence of a child than to plunk him down amid the coarse trappings of a life lived in pursuit of wealth -- oversized bills, an adding machine and the Wall Street Journal -- and make him sit inside a briefcase? (They probably just fold up the little demon right in there to carry him home.) The finishing touch is the globe, which completes the portrait of the young Antichrist in Chess King vest and Red Goose loafers, plotting his takeover of the world (insert maniacal laugh). That is, as soon as someone changes his poopy diaper.

Bobbi isn't the first waitress to fall for her manager, but she and Dale both got fired from Shoney's.

Rejected Toby Keith album cover.

Just a typical afternoon down on the plantation. In a business suit.

Dawn and her recently exhumed sister, Gorgotha, pose with Scraps.

This photo isn't discolored. The 70' s really were that Orange.

And don't miss the First Presbyterian Players as they perform "Godspell" next Wednesday night in the Fellowship Hall. Childcare will be provided. Please bring a covered dish.

Olan Mills Backdrop #11: The Library, one of their most popular themes, as seen in this photo of the young Unabomber and his wife.

The Library might be more believable if the shelves weren't sloping downhill

Olan Mills is all about versatility. The simple addition of a column turns this generic plantation into Tara,where, apparently, someone opened a Hair Cuttery.

Patrick broke ranks and chose drag over the bow tie

You'd think Pearle Vision would throw in another two pairs for free.

Grapefruit smuggling isn't a crime, but posing it in profile should be.

Kenneth and his prom date

I got a 20 that says he drives a Camaro.

Hiroshima , 1945. The last known photo of Kelli and Senor Loco.

e this was Dad's idea.

Someone spent money on this.

It's so cute when couples have matching hairdos

WTF ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

Nothing says 1973 quite like denim and helmet hair

I'd hide my face, too, little girl

B-52's, the early years.

She's looking for the speaker that's piping in "Muskrat Love" so she can blast it with her laser eyes.

Answer The Phones At Your Own Risk

2008-01-14T20:44:00.001-06:00

I work in a small regional office for my company. The phone doesn't ring much, but when it does, it is sometimes an unhappy customer or an unhappy employee. A lot of times it's a wrong number. There is a definite increase in weird phone calls when there is a full moon. I could swear it is a full moon right now.

Around noon today the phone rang, and I answered. It was my mother.

"Are you OK?"

I thought she was referring to the blizzard we ended up not getting.

"I'm fine. We didn't get any snow, so I am here at work."

"No Hausfrau. I need to know what is going on. I just called your house and your number is disconnected and the operator said there was no forwarding number. What one EARTH is going on?!"

"Um, Mom, our number is not disconnected. This is the third time in the past year you have called to tell me that my phone is disconnected and it's not. We pay our bills. You're dialing the wrong number."

"Let me check--I dialed 610-867-5309--is that right?"

"Yes Mom. That's right. And it's not disconnected."

"HAUSFRAU! Don't argue with your mother. I am telling you it is disconnected."

"Mom. I will check it myself and call you back." Of course, when I called my house, my phone rang and went into voicemail. I hung up and debated calling her back. I had just spent five minutes talking to a crazy woman who was probably under the influence of bourbon or gin and I still didn't know why she had called. I had work to do. I called her back because I knew she would just keep calling.

I should have known that it would be a mistake to call her back. It was like a two hour Lifetime movie sped up to be 15 minutes in length. There was male-bashing (against my ex-brother-in-law,) witty one-liners, laughter, anger, swearing, and lots of tears. After I calmed her down, I told her I would call her after work and I hung up. I was exhausted.

An hour or so later, my boss got a call from her mother. Her call was much more amusing and interesting. It seems her cousin is the fake Jessica Simpson that the New York Post hired for the Dallas-Giants game.

2008 Will be Great! Really!

2008-01-06T12:15:00.000-06:00

The New Year has started off with a bang for us. We had a fantastic time visiting our friends for a week up in Canada. While it is true that I had pneumonia and didn't know it, and Ella broke her finger and we didn't know it until the next day, and our poor little Bosco ripped his paw at the kennel on New Year's Day and had to go to the emergency vet to get stitches, WE REALLY DID HAVE A GREAT TIME!

Now that we are back to our normal life, we really do have a lot to look forward to in the coming year. Here is my list in no particular order.

1. Genna will be potty trained. She just will. She has to because I am tired of her pooping her pants and lying about it. The problem is that her poop REALLY DOESN'T STINK and it will sit in her diaper for an hour and then she will have a blistering diaper rash. We started the potty training this weekend, and it is going OK. She is now just lying about whether or not she peed or pooped in her panties.

2. Genna will be three next month. I have high hopes for her once she turns three since her two-year-old self has just about killed Herr and me.

3. Ella will start kindergarten in the fall. I can't believe my baby will soon be an actual STUDENT in the fall.

4. We are going to get some home projects done. We are having our 3x7 foot "master" bathcloset (it's not a bathroom!) gutted and remodeled. We are replacing interior doors on the second floor and finishing up installing crown moulding. We are also going to get started on finishing up a small section of the unfinished side of our basement to create more living space. We'll also get started on our kitchen. Just in time for Herr to take a new job and move us somewhere else. Kidding, people. I kid. Maybe.

5. The absolutely best, most fantastic show EVER in the history of television premieres it's fifth and final season tonight. I am so excited about the premiere of The Wire , I almost can't stand myself.

6. Herr and I are going to get to do a bit of travelling this year, sans children. We are heading to Seattle in February to visit some friends. Then we are going to celebrate our 15th anniversary a couple of months early by going to Hawaii in late-July. If anyone has some suggestions for what we should do in Kaui, by all means let me know.

7. I have a huge pile of books to read over the coming months, with a list of many more I want to get.

8. The New York Times is FINALLY delivering our Sunday paper consistently. Now I have the comfort of knowing that I can send the girls to the basement every Sunday morning so that I may drink my coffee in peace and read the "Sunday Styles" section. I absolutely LOVE reading the wedding pages.

9. Speaking of weddings, my friends Mark and Phil are going to have a commitment ceremony in the spring with a reception at MOMA . It will coincide with Herr's birthday, so it should be a blast of a weekend. I also recently heard that my gay cousin has decided he's not gay anymore and is getting married to a woman with two kids sometime this year. Now THAT should be some Hausfrau family fun. I am pretty sure my invite will be lost in the mail because I have been asking the questions that no one else has been asking. Namely, "How is he not gay anymore?!" No one seems to think this is at all strange, which may be an indicator of just how whacked out my family truly is.

10. My friends will be having babies! I have two friends who will be having babies in the next few weeks and I couldn't be more thrilled. One is definitely a girl and the other is unknown. This will allow me to unload a ton of baby stuff so that we can work on the basement, as mentioned in item #4.

11. And finally, a new President will be elected in November. I haven't decided if I will vote for Obama or Hillary yet. I would really just rather vote for Bill again.

How about you? What are you looking forward to?

Preparations for the Big Man

2007-12-25T13:20:00.001-06:00

Last night, the girls prepared for a visit from a jolly man with a red suit and reindeer. They opened up the fireplace door:

Then the girls got some snacks ready for Santa and the reindeer:

Their efforts were rewarded. Merry Christmas!

It Was Probably a Poor Choice of Words on Herr's Part

2007-12-16T15:24:00.000-06:00

Herr had the girls clean up the basement so that he could teach them how to play a new game, called Elefun, that Ella got for her birthday. Instead of actually going down to the basement to supervise, he did his parenting the Hausfrau way, by barking orders from the first floor. After listening to the girls mess around and laugh for about 15 minutes, Herr shouted down to the basement, "Are you girls jacking around or what?"

"Where's Jack? I wanna play with Jack! Is Jack here?" cried Genna.

"No, Genna, when I say "jacking around," I mean that you and your sister are messing around instead of cleaning up the room like I asked."

"But Daddy," said Genna, "I am not jacking off."

I Can't Breathe

2007-12-11T18:19:00.000-06:00

My sweet little princess, my little sunshine, my happy-go-lucky daughter who makes my heart melt when she smiles turned five today.

I only cried for about 10 minutes on the way to work.

Peeking Inside Pandora's Box

2007-11-19T20:02:00.000-06:00

About 15 years ago, my parents went to the attorney who handled my adoption and my sister's adoption. Mom and Dad gave me my birth mother's name and date of birth, and from there I located her. While I do not have a relationship with my birth mother, I do have a friendship with my birth sister. M wasn't interested in knowing her family history at the time, so my mother kept M's birth mother information--and lost it.

I always found it strange that M had no desire to find about about her birth family since her hobby is genealogy. She has managed to trace our father's lineage to pre-civil war, and our mother's family to the late 1700's. Last year, M finally expressed interest in knowing about her birth family. A few weeks ago, my mother was able to get the information from the county court house.

In a matter of a few hours, M's network of genealogy friends had located a BOOK dedicated to the lineage of her birth mother. A BOOK! Things got even more strange when one of M's girlfriends realized that she actually KNEW M's birth mother because she had gone to high school with the birth mother's sister (it's a small world since M and her friends live in Michigan and the birth mother's family are in Illinois.) M has been able to find out a lot about the family with this book and other research she did. When I spoke to her over the weekend, I asked her what she planned to do with the information--would she be contacting her birth mother any time soon? I also warned her that she needed to make sure that her friend kept her mouth shut and didn't interfere. If the family didn't know about the adoption (like my birth family), the friend would run the risk of causing major upheaval in the family. My sister said that she was too busy to really do anything about it right now because she is very busy with her classes, her boys, the holidays, trying to plan trips to visit Mom, etc. I told her that maybe she should think about contacting the birth mother after the holidays. I was glad to hear she didn't want to rush things. I just didn't want her to get hurt. She has gone through a lot over the past few years, and I didn't want things to turn out badly for her.

Through it all, my mother has been so excited for both of us and has always regretted not having the information to give to us sooner. I initially didn't tell my mom about becoming friends with my birth sister right away because I worried she would think I was looking for a replacement family that would take over once Mom died. Eventually, when I told her, she insisted on meeting my birth sister and LOVED her.

Mom called me tonight and told me that M had just called her to say that her birth mother had just called her. Apparently, the friend decided to not keep her mouth shut and told the sister of the birth mother. Apparently, the birth mother was thrilled and that the entire HUGE family that has a BOOK devoted to them is excited about M. Apparently, they spoke for an hour. At the end, M said," My Mom said that she wants me to come down and visit her in North Carolina."

Mom said her heart broke just a little to hear M refer to this woman as "Mom." My heart broke a little for her too.

Snow Day!

2007-11-18T17:32:00.000-06:00

Last Sunday we were doing this:

What a difference a week makes! It snowed all day today in Bethlehem! Herr taught Ella and Genna the finer points of ma king snowballs.

Some Truly Shit-Tastic Parenting Happened Today

2007-10-29T19:42:00.000-05:00

Back in the 90’s, my friend Becky thought that the lyrics, “Don’t call me daughter” from Pearl Jam's "Daughter" was really, “Don’t Call Me Doggie.” A few years later, my friend Katy was surprised to find out that the classic Who song, “ New Orleans ” was really, “Who Are You?” My husband finds both stories to be HILARIOUS and tells them whenever an appropriate event calls for them.

This morning, while yelling at the girls for the umpteenth time to cool their jets so I could concentrate on driving them safely to school, I was somewhat aware of the cool song playing on “Kids Stuff” on Sirius. It seemed vaguely familiar with a rapid techno-beat. What a nice change from the usual Dan Zanes and Laurie Berkner that are the mainstays of the channel. While I continued to yell at the children, I was struck by the interesting lyrics, “smash my picture, smash my picture.” Once I was done yelling, I faced forward and rocked my head to the beat of “Smash My Picture.” It was probably the extended dance version because it seemed to go on forever.

It wasn’t until I heard Ella really getting into it by singing, “Smash my Bitcha, smash my Bitcha, that my stomach lurched. I remembered that on Saturday night, I was driving home from suburban Philadelphia and asked Herr to change “Kid Stuff” to anything that would keep me awake for the hour drive home. He had put it on “90’s Alt.”

I am not sure what was more sad: the fact that my four year old daughter was singing, “Smack My Bitch Up,” by Prodigy at 6:30 in the morning, or the fact that I had FORGOTTEN the song ever existed.

Two Weeks Later and Mom is Still Nuts

2007-08-19T13:16:00.000-05:00

I have hestitated writing much about my mother over the past week. I really didn't want to turn my blog into a site about my Mom which would probably be a most depressing piece of drivel. That said, I will provide a brief update: My sister has been there two weekends in a row and we are no further along in trying to help my mother. It certainly isn't from a lack of trying. We are trying to set up home healthcare (currently it is a minimum 3 month wait), but we can't because they need financial information and my mother hasn't done her taxes in seven years and is in fear of the IRS auditing her. We even offered to fill out the tax forms and just not send them--as long as we have the factual amounts on a 1040 EZ, I am reasonably sure that a home healthcare agency will not check in with the IRS to see if a refund was actually granted her in 2006 (there is no way she owes taxes as she makes NO MONEY.) My mother claims that is dishonest and she won't do it. I told her that it was dishonest to choose to NOT do her taxes for 7 years, but that sailed right over her head.

Mom also doesn't want to tell us how much money she has currently. Mind you, she called me a couple of months ago and told me that she had lived way longer than she expected and is very worried about running out of money. At that time, I told her that if that was the case, we needed to make some arrangements for her care. When I asked her how much she had, she refused to tell me. I told my sister to try to find out what is in her accounts this weekend because the sooner she is out of money, the sooner we can get her on Medicaid. I also asked her to find out the balance of her car and we would work on getting it paid off and sell it. When I looked into Medicaid a few years ago, one of the requirements was that one couldn't have a car worth over a certain amount of month (basically you have do drive a shit car to qualify for Medicaid.) Even though her Lincoln Town Car is old, it isn't a shit car--therefore, no Medicaid.

About an hour ago, my phone rang and it was my sister, telling me to talk to Mom because Mom is mad that she is going through her things. I explained to Mom why Sis is trying to get this information. Mom accused us of only being interested in a potential inheritance. That is when I laughed and laughed, making her angrier.

Mama Drama--Chapter 2

2007-08-08T19:04:00.000-05:00

After my mother told me that she has lung cancer and has only 8-10 weeks left to live, I left a message for her doctor to get details. Something she had said made me suspicious--she told me she found out about the diagnosis from an X-ray and that the growth was the size of a golf ball. I told her that, while I wasn't a doctor, I didn't think that a golf ball-sized growth constituted such a quick end. I also asked her why there was no biopsy, but she started to cry and went on about how she didn't want treatment and I moved on.

Dr. Chuck didn't call me on Monday, but my mom's old friend Sharry did. Up until a few months ago, Sharry had been a savior to my sister and me because she lived in town and helped us tremendously with Mom's care by taking her to appointments, stopping by, etc. When Mom dropped her bombshell, I asked her if she had told Sharry. She told me that things had not been well between the two of the lately and she couldn't bring herself to tell her. I told her that she might want to make the effort to work things out before she is gone. I happened to know that Sharry had become quite upset with her when she found out Mom had been drinking again.

After exchanging pleasantries, I asked Sharry what I could do for her. She asked me if I had spoken to Mom lately. I decided to go for broke and told her everything. After I explained the recent events, she said that Mom had called her on Saturday (Keep in mind--that is one of the days that she lost) and told her that her car had been stolen and that she was angry with me for calling the maintenance office. Then she told Sharry that she has THYROID cancer and has 6 months to live. At this point, I started to laugh. I knew then and there that she had been self-diagnosing.

Dr. Chuck called me yesterday and we spent nearly an hour talking about Mom. I told him everything, including Sharry's information. When I was finished, he told me that he hadn't seen Mom in 4 months and that the last chest x-ray she had was in February and it was clear of cancer. She does have advanced lung disease from her smoking, but no cancer. He also indicated that her thyroid has been a mess (which I knew) because he was certain that she wasn't taking her medication properly. He then informed me that based on what I have told him, he is certain that Mom has Korsakoff's syndrome, which is essentially a dementia brought on by alcoholism. Dr. Chuck said he became an expert in the illness because his father had it. She confabulates, meaning she makes up stories and in her heart believes them to be true. He mentioned that he worries about her a lot because she has missed a few appointments of late. He very much would like for us to get her in to see him to get a blood test, a ct scan to make sure there isn't a brain tumor, etc. I asked him how we were going to get her in there when he also told me that we should NOT confront her about knowing the truth. He didn't really have an answer.

Later last night, we talked to our friend Chris, who is a Psychiatrist. Before I even told him what Dr. Chuck's diagnosis had been, he said, "Your Mom has Korsakoff's syndrome." Chris was a wealth of information because he actually treats people with this condition. He also gave us an idea of what our priorities should be right now, like getting rid of her car. Since she is blacking out, the car is a weapon. While it seems easy enough to take the car, it isn't. At that point, she would be homebound, and we have to make arrangements for someone to deliver food, meds, etc. I am sure that we would have to provide state agencies with proof of income (taxes, etc.) Too bad she hasn't filed taxes in SEVEN YEARS and has refused to allow us to do them for her. Chris also mentioned that it isn't that simple to put her into a nursing home. By having her go cold turkey and not drink at this stage of the game could kill her. As a result, we would need to admit her to a hospital and have them wean her off the booze. Chris also mentioned that we need to find out what the laws are like in Indiana with regard to people being committed. In New York, where he used to practice, he had the ability to make a simple call to get someone committed if he felt that they were incapable of caring for themselves. He also has that ability in Canada. In Indiana, it might not be so simple.

Being 12 hours away sucks. What really sucks is that my Mom's brother lives 3 miles away and will never help. He would laugh and hang up on me if I called and asked. Can't say I blame him--she wasn't too kind to him over the past few years. While I felt better that Chris was able to help me, I was sleepless trying to sort out what I needed to do.

I finally spoke to my sister this morning and explained what was going on. I repeated almost everything Chris said, including the fact that we need to now take the emotion out of the equation. At this point, it is clear that she is not 100% of the Mom who raised us. She is not going to get better, she is going to lash out at us, and we need to work through it without being angry AT her. That will be hard.

Mama Drama--There is No Short Version

2007-08-06T18:23:00.001-05:00

It all started on Friday when my sister called me from her car.

"Hey Hausfrau, Mom called and told me that her car was stolen."

I laughed. Rude, right?

"Is she SURE? Did she call the police?"

"Well," said sister "Mom said that she hasn't called the police yet because she's tired and hasn't had a bath."

"Of course. Did she speak to the management office of her apartment complex?" I asked.

"She said she did, but she also mentioned something about the fact that the maintenance crew is paving the parking lots."

"Oh, maybe they towed it--wouldn't they have told her that if she called the office?" I said.

My sister was obviously frustrated with the whole thing and busy and, well, DRIVING. I told her that something wasn't right and that I would call the office.

I spoke to Jennifer the office manager and asked her if they had started to tow cars due to the paving. She said that they wouldn't tow cars--they would simply go to the residents and get their keys and move the cars for them if they weren't moved by a certain time. At that point I asked her if my mom had called her to report a stolen car. Jennifer said that she had not spoken to my mom at all, but she would call the two maintenance guys to confirm and call me right back. Ten minutes later, she called to say that they had found her car in the next parking lot over and that they had stopped by Mom's apartment to tell her and that she was happy.

I knew THAT wasn't true. I knew my mom would be pissed that I had called the office to have them look for her car because that would mean that I caught her in a lie about calling them to begin with.

I called my sister back to tell her that they had found the car. She said she knew because Mom was on the other line and she sounded angry. A few minutes later, my sister called me back to say that Mom had walked around and had found her car and felt really stupid because she didn't remember moving it on Thursday night. She had just gotten back to her apartment when the two maintenance guys knocked on her door to tell her that they, too, found her car. She had yelled at my sister for having me call the maintenance guys. I told my sister that Mom had lied a second time to her because she is physically unable to walk out of her apartment, go down the stairs, walk outside and look for her car, go back up the stairs and get into her apartment in the 10 minutes this all went down.

My sister and I spoke for awhile about our concerns that she has now lost track of Thursday, apparently drove her car and doesn't remember any of it. We weren't sure if she had been drunk or perhaps had a stroke. Sis said she would be heading to LaPorte after her vacation in the Adirondacks next week and would try to get her in to see her doctor. I tried calling Mom all weekend, but she wouldn't answer the phone because that is what all mature mothers do when they are mad at their daughters.

My cell phone rang at work this morning and it was my sister again, starting off a conversation with, "I think we have a MAJOR problem with Mom."

"What now?"

At this point, I only heard about every third word of the conversation because my sister is in the mountains. From what I could glean was that my mom had asked that she call every night to let her know that she was safe on her trip (my sister has never driven this far by herself before and she is going to be camping in the woods with her boys, etc.) Apparently my sister called Saturday and spoke to my Mom. On Sunday, my sister got to our relative's house rather late in the evening. Our cousin said that Mom had called there three times FRANTIC because she hadn't heard from Michelle AT ALL on her trip. Michelle called her and basically said, "WTF?" I guess Mom started to hysterically cry.

By this point, I couldn't hear much more of what my sister was saying so I told her I would try to call Mom and try to find out what is wrong. I called Mom once and left a long message, hoping she would pick up but she didn't. I called a second time and left a longer, rambling message:

"Hi Mom, it's Hausfrau. Look, Sis and I are very worried about you, and I need you to pick up the phone. She said that you called her and were crying, you don't remember driving in your car on Thursday--we're just really worried. Here is my office number...here is my cell number...please call me--we are very worried about the fact that you have lost track of a couple of days--"

Mom got on the phone and in a voice that sounded like a low growl, she said, "It was ONE day that I don't remember!"

"But Mom, Sis said you don't remember talking to her on Saturday and you don't remember driving your car on Thursday-that's two days."

"IT WAS ONE DAY--Saturday that I don't remember--not two days! My car WAS stolen!"

"But Mom, listen to me--"

"Fuck you. I don't want you to call me anymore."

And she hung up on me.

After recovering from the shock of my mother telling me to fuck off and hanging up on me, I decided to call my friend Nicole who is quite logical and would be able to honestly tell me if I had that coming. She was also aware of the car episode from Friday.

"Hey Nicole, if you called your mom today and told her that you were a crack whore, would she tell you to, 'Fuck off' and hang up on you?"

"Uh, nope."

OK--what if you called her and told her that you were going to start dealing meth--would she tell you to 'fuck off' then?"

"No, I can't imagine too many things that would make my mom say those words to me."

"What if you killed someone?"

"No, no she wouldn't."

While part of me was heartbroken that my mother said those words to me, a part of me was relieved. My sister and I have dealt with her depression, her illnesses, her bitterness, her lies, her wrath, her anger, her drunkenness, and her despair for seven long years. I have been so tempted to walk away--my sister even did so for several months a few years ago. I was angry when she did it, but I didn't blame her. It is incredibly sad to deal with a person who has pushed every friend and relative away. She has burned so many bridges--the only two left standing are my sister and me. And while I would love to do nothing more than walk away from this mess that she has created, I know that my mother raised me right. She raised us to finish the job and take care of family. I was also raised to not drop the F-Bomb, but that's neither here nor there.

Later in the day I was on a conference call and saw that my Mom was calling in on my cell phone. I didn't play the message right away because I figured that either A) She was going to yell at me some more or B) She was going to start the call off with, "Hi Honey--it's been forever since we talked. What have you been up to?" Instead, the message was a very tearful apology. She asked me to "please, please, please forgive" her and that she is in "trouble." She also mentioned that she will have my sister help her with the "trouble" when she comes to visit this weekend. I called her right back and she started to cry. She insisted that the car was stolen and returned and that she wasn't crazy, but that she knows that not remembering Saturday was a problem. She also said that she is ready to go into a nursing home. That's what she wants my sister to help her with. I told her that while I agree that an assisted living situation is probably a good idea, we would need to talk to her doctor. I asked her if she had seen Dr. Chuck lately.

It was at that moment that Mom told me that she has lung cancer and she has 8-10 weeks left. She has known for three weeks and hasn't told anyone. She wants to go into a nursing home so that my sister and I aren't burdened with her "mess." I asked her if she was considering treatment of any kind and she said no. She said she is done. She also said that I am not to tell my sister and ruin her vacation. I told her that she needs to tell Sis before she leaves to go back to Michigan on Sunday or I will. In the meantime, I have placed a call to my Mom's doctor to verify what she has said. I have Medical Power of Attorney, so they should be able to tell me. While it's not that I don't believe her, I want to make sure her story is straight. After all, she lost track of Thursday and Saturday.

I'm Just Glad I Didn't Turn Out Like Cletus

2007-08-01T21:30:00.000-05:00

To celebrate the long-awaited Simpsons movie, Herr went to this site and turned himself, his wife and his two loving daughters into Simpsons characters. He spent waaaaaay too long snapping individual photos of us ( I tried to get him to use a photo of me as a 22 year old Hausfrau, but he would have none of it), uploading them onto the site and then adding features to create his vision of what we would look like should we ever be so lucky to appear on The Simpsons.

All in all, I am pleased with the results, even though in real life my lips and teeth aren't that large and my skin isn't, well, yellow. I also don't spend a lot of time with my hands in front of me clawing like a lobster. I'm just sayin'.

After Herr finished all of us individually, he played around in Photoshop and put together a family portrait.

I now present...Team Hausfrau.

It's Been Awhile

2007-07-31T18:47:00.000-05:00

I haven't felt much like writing lately. I've had a lot to say, believe me. I always have something to say. Something will happen in the course of the day that makes me ~~annoyed~~ , ~~batshit~~ happy and I want to write about it. There's just one problem: my sister found my blog.

Let me start of by saying that I love my sister. We get along just fine despite our many differences. That said, I have kept this blog from my family since I started it. My family, as a group, is a trainwreck on the Crazyville Express Line. I have used this forum to sort out my feelings about various family members, particularly my mother. The people who read my blog (I think I am down to about 7 readers now) are my friends. Most I knew before I had this blog; a couple I have gotten to know because of my writing. None of them were my family. I liked it that way. I felt free to express myself. Now that I have been outed by my sister, I can't help but think that I am going to be tempted to edit everything I want to say--even if it is something trivial. As a result, I have things that I want to say, but I haven't written them down.

When she told me she found my blog, I told her that while I chose to put it on the internet for others to see, my name was not on it and I expect her to not share this blog with any member of the family. She has agreed to not say anything. I do feel bad that I was initially angry with her for finding my blog. She wasn't actually looking for it--I accidently put the web address on something that she saw.

I know that I ultimately shouldn't care. I write the truth and most of what I have written about my mother I have said to her face. But I know it would be more upsetting to her to see it in print.

I Cannot Believe I Forgot To Do This!

2007-07-15T14:00:00.000-05:00

All of this working I have been doing caused me to miss a MAJOR milestone. You guessed it--my second anniversary of writing this blog occurred in June and I didn't even notice. I'm also coming up on my 200th post. I will be expecting a party.

I recently realized that I have made a major error in childrearing. I forgot that I am suppposed to be potty training Genna. I came to this realization when we were in Indiana and some friends of ours from Cincinnati came to visit. Abby is two months younger than Genna and was going to the bathroom on her own and doing the job correctly. She even pooped. Without being prodded. Without being reminded every 10 minutes to go. She was wearing panties--not even a pull-up. Needless to say, I felt like such a loser. I can't believe I forget to get started doing this! It's not like I love chasing her around the house when it is time to change her diapers. I would love nothing more than to not spend $50/month on diapers and the $100 on wipes (Ok, perhaps a slight exaggeration, but we use a lot of wipes.)

Potty training was relatively easy to do with Ella because I was home with her full-time and she was going through her "less is more" phase of nakedness. I'm not sure how potty-training will happen consistently when I'm working the hours that I work. Does daycare help out with that? I don't even know! I'm sure they do, but I will probably have to give them about 7 changes of clothing. I have a hard enough time remembering to bring her bib and diapers into school when I am supposed to. I am the Mom they have to write notes in bold red Sharpee Marker to remind me to bring things . Three times. Now they have gotten smarter and start writing me notes in Sharpee Marker about two weeks before Genna actually needs it.

I'll be able to handle the weekends--it's daycare I am not sure about. Anyone have any advice? How do I keep things consistent? I used to say that I would pay $20 for Ella to teach Genna when the time came. Would that be bad?

Going Home

2007-06-21T04:31:00.000-05:00

I have been spending the last few weeks mentally preparing myself for the trip home we are taking today. The trip to Indiana itself is no picnic, but we are splitting it up and staying in a hotel tonight. Genna is just not much of a traveller and tends to make long trips sheer hell with her screaming and kicking of seats. We are renting a minivan in order to give all of us room to stretch out. We won't hear a peep out of Ella, unless she wants snacks, because she'll be in the third row with the DVD player and a lifetime supply of princess and fairy-themed movies. I'll be in the middle row with Genna trying to read my book and ignoring the fact that she is drawing on the windows, the upholstery and herself with washable markers. When she gets bored with that, I'll let her start eating Play-Doh. When that looses its appeal, I'll have to actually entertain her.

We had initially planned to fly, but the thought of the guaranteed delays and probable cancellations with two children and a cranky husband made me think that it would probably take just as long to do the driving ourselves. I started to imagine my last trip home to see Mom in February and couldn't imagine how I would cope with an experience like that again, much less with the girls and Herr. While I have very little patience on a good day, my husband's patience has disappeared over the years at the same pace as his hair. He's bald.

We are spending the first part of the trip visiting my mother. I have been talking to Mom twice a week for months, and every single time, she has asked me what the travel plans are. Yesterday, she called me twice while I was at work and left voice mails on my cell phone:

"I'm just calling to see if you guys are on the road. I can't wait to see you, but I really want to see the babies. I'm so excited."

I called her back the first time to remind her AGAIN that we were not leaving until Thursday. It was clearly news to her. I didn't bother to call her back when she called the second time a few hours later and left a nearly identical message. I told my friend Lorrie that I am probably going to end up taking whatever alcohol my mother is drinking these days and bring it back to her place to drink myself. If it turns out that this isn't an alcohol issue, then my sister and I obviously have a larger issue on our hands.

Based on her phone calls from yesterday, it is pretty clear that she has also forgotten my little chat with her about NOT overdoing it when we get there (ie: letting the girls crawl all over her, deciding to cook a seven-course meal, or starting to clean the apartment that hasn't been touched since I visited in February.) This always happens. Even though our visits will be in small two-hour increments, I guarantee that she will be so exhausted on Saturday, that she will sleep all day. There won't be anyplace for the girls to play because my mom's closet of an apartment is full of landmines like scissors, lighters, medications and other sharp and poisonous things. Last year she "childproofed" her apartment with hilarious results.

The trip won't be stressful the entire time--when we aren't cleaning Mom's apartment or attempting to have a serious discussion about her finances or the need to move into an assisted living situation,we will visit friends and stay with friends of mine who have older kids whom the girls adore. We'll go to Lake Michigan. We'll go to Redamaks (every night if Herr has his way.)

We'll head to Bloomington on Tuesday and stay the remainder of the week with Herr's mom. It will be waaaaaay different. I won't have to worry about the girls' safety, there will be no need to find things to do to entertain the girls for hours on end, and we'll probably get to have a date night because Grandma will babysit. And even though I will ultimately have a good time, I know that, deep down, I am going to be angry that I can't control my mother's fate, and sad that she has gotten as bad as she has. And she won't let us help her.