When Worlds Collide

Visiting my mother is always a trip for one reason or another. Sometimes it's a trip because my mom is literally on one. This time, she was recovering from a surgery she had the previous week. The surgeon had guaranteed that she would be pain-free after two days. I stopped by nine days after the surgery and she was crouched in pain. Instead of stalking the surgeon to get some answers as to why she is not feeling better, she put together her own pain management plan by alternating between oxycontin and gin. Two years ago, I would have been crying and screaming at her for being so stupid. Now, I just take her car keys, dilute her gin with tap water and go on with the visit.

We spent the morning visiting and talking about family. We talked about some major family gossip that is so scandalous that it cannot be written on a public site. We talked about my sister and her two sons and how Mom worries about them now that Haus Sis is divorced and on her own. We talked about the girls and Herr, etc. In the middle of all of this discussion, she suddenly piped in with, "I would really like to meet your birthsister."

I feel it is only fair to back up a bit. Awhile back I wrote about the fact that my birth sister, "L" and I found each other a couple of years ago. At the time, I had decided not to tell my mom about it. Had I found L five years earlier when my Dad was still alive, they would have been the first people I called. My parents were so helpful in trying to find my birth family when I was younger. With Dad gone and my mother in such poor health, I didn't want her to think that I was in the process of setting up a replacement family to take over once she died. I did tell Haus Sis and swore her to secrecy since keeping her mouth shut is not one of her strong suits. And while L has met some of my friends, I have not made it public to my family that L exists and is in my life.

And yet, my mother found out. Around Christmas, Mom and I were on the phone and we got on the topic of secrets. I told her that I had a secret to tell her and that I felt really bad that I had been keeping it from her for so long. She said, "Jesus Christ. Are you going to finally tell me that you've reunited with your birthsister and that you two see each other when you come home?"

Haus Sis swears she didn't say a word, and I think I believe her. My mother, of course, has NEVER given up a source. Ever.

And so my mother wanted to meet L. It so happened that L and I had plans to meet for dinner that evening anyway, so I called her and asked her to stop by my Mom's apartment before we went out. She agreed, and met my mom a few hours later. Fortunately, Mom was only on her second martini, so she was fairly well-behaved and didn't share the story about how she and Dad had me tested for retardation when I was first adopted. She kept the stories of how horrible I was growing up to a minimum. After about 30 minutes of shooting the breeze, L and I left because I knew Mom was really tired. At dinner, L and I talked about how interesting the meeting was. L admitted that she was somewhat jealous that I can tell my family about her but she cannot. She also admitted that she had been initially scared to meet my mom, but that it had turned out well. It was at that moment that I felt really bad for not thinking about how weird it really was for L to meet my Mom.

The next day, Mom was babbling on and on about more family gossip while I was cleaning her bathroom. From the living room I heard, "By the way, your sister's hair is gorgeous."

I said, "What, did Haus Sis get her hair done? It is about damn time since she has had the same stupid style for more than 20 years."

Mom said, "No, Dumbass--your SISTER. L."

"Thanks for calling me a Dumbass, Mom. I guess I am not used to thinking about the fact that I have more than one sister."

Mom said, "L is absolutely beautiful. Are you two SURE that you two are sisters?"

"Thank you for alluding that I am a troll, Mom. Yes, we are sure we are sisters. It's not clear that we have the same father, so at the very least we are half sisters."

"I didn't mean to imply that you are ugly, Honey. It's just that L's features are so beautiful and different than yours. She just doesn't look like you is all. I can't wait to call your Aunt K and tell her that I have another daughter in the family."

"But Mom, that's just it--she's NOT your daughter."

"I know, but I really liked her. She would fit into our family quite well. And her features are simply stunning, don't you think? I mean, she REALLY is beautiful."

Can't you just smell the crazy?

Planes, Trains and Automobiles Two or Northwest Airlines Sucks Ass

When I found a ticket to fly home for $144.00 recently, I was pretty excited. My Mom had surgery the week I went to Vegas, and I wanted to get home the week after to help her out. I find myself really pinching pennies to go home because I know that I will spend that time cleaning a brown/red layer of cigarette smoke off of every surface in my mother's apartment and running her around town to doctors or to get booze. It's horrible for me to say that I would rather spend more money to go somewhere else most of the time. I love my mother dearly, but visiting her makes me incredibly sad for too many reasons to print. At any rate, I found a cheap ticket and got a good deal on a rental car. For less than $250, I would get to go home.

I showed up at the airport on Thursday afternoon after working a couple of hours at the office. I was to fly from Philadelphia to Detroit with a brief layover and then move on to Chicago Midway. All told the trip would be less than 6 hours, and that included an hour drive from Midway to LaPorte. I guess now would be a good time to admit that I despise flying. I am terrified to do it, despite the fact that I purposely took two jobs in the past that required a ton of travel. It was my hope that those jobs would force me to not be scared shitless afraid of flying. It didn't work. Just before the flight, I called my best friend and had the exact same conversation we have had in the past when I am going to fly:

"Hey June. Do you remember what you're supposed to do if I crash on this flight?"

"Yeah--where do you keep it again?"

"Bottom drawer."

"Oh yeah--just so you know. Mine is in my craft basket."

"OK."

After that call was placed, I sat and stewed until boarding time.

I wasn't really upset when the plane didn't arrive on time. I felt it was delaying the inevitable and I was really enjoying my Vanity Fair. I didn't want to die before finishing it. When it finally showed up 30 minutes later, I was the only person who didn't appear outwardly annoyed. I sighed, put my sweating hands together and said a quick prayer to God, Allah, and Oprah and boarded.

The 757 was completely full and took forever to load. Once we were settled in, I got my magazine out and pretended to read. For a really long time. After about 20 minutes, the captain got on the intercom:

"Good evening, passengers. We, uh, have a broken instrument, an altimeter, that needs to be replaced. A plane like this has three of them and we can't take off if one is broken. We are finding out right now if we have the means to fix it. I'll give you an update just as soon as we know something."

Forty-five minutes later, the pilot got back on the intercom and said that the part would be arriving in 15 minutes and that we would get going.

Thirty minutes later, a flight attendant got on the intercom and said that those of us who were hoping to catch our connecting flights in Detroit would probably miss them and that we should probably get off the plane, where there would be gate agents to help us make alternate arrangements. About 1/3 to 1/2 of us got off the plane and rushed the counter. The two gate agents could not have been more irritated with the current situation and made sure that their faces showed it. Since I was pretty far back on the plane, I was automatically pretty far back in the line. We all tried to make the best of it by joking around and telling our sob stories about how we were trying to get where we were going.

When the line didn't move an inch in 30 minutes, someone got the idea to call the customer service line and make alternate arrangements that way. About ten of us did it all at once. After all of us had been on the line for 15 minutes, each and every one of us was mysteriously disconnected while we were on hold. When we all called again, the same thing happened. I was officially pissed. After an HOUR in line, the female gate agent told us that the plane was finally leaving and that we should get back on the plane. When several of us yelled, "What are we supposed to do if we've missed our connection?!" the gate agent replied, "Well, we don't have no flights leavin' Philadelphia anyways tonight. You're better off goin' to Detroit anyways."

So back on the plane I went. The guys who had been sitting in my row were nice enough to keep my seat open. Once we all got back on the plane, I opened up my magazine and pretended to read again. For a long time. The Captain got BACK ON THE INTERCOM and said he was delayed AGAIN and would leave the gate as soon as he could.

After another 20 minutes, we finally left the gate and took off. I was tired, irritated, hungry and really thirsty. When the flights attendants came by with the beverage cart, they made an announcement that they were out of the complimentary snacks, but for $3 we could buy a Barbie-sized bag of trail mix. Apparently they had quite the little fiesta while we were in line in the airport. The guy next to me kept wanting to buy me a beer, but I knew that if I drank one, I wouldn't stop.

We arrived in Detroit a little before 10PM and were told to go to another gate and the agents there would help us. At this point, I was ready to just rent a car from Detroit and drive home. It was about a 2 1/2 hour drive, and I was perfectly willing to do it. I stood in line for another hour, hoping that they would have car rental vouchers. When I finally got to the front of the line and told the gate agent what I wanted to do, she said she didn't have any car rental vouchers, but that there was one more seat left on the 9AM flight to Midway the next morning. I took it, but I had it in my head that I would be getting a rental car after leaving the counter. She gave me a hotel voucher, a dinner voucher, a breakfast voucher, and a coupon for a discounted ticket I could use the next time I flew with NWA. I told her she could keep that.

I ran to the first level of the airport to go to the Avis desk, except there wasn't one. Instead I had to pick up a phone.

"Hi. I have a reservation to pick up a car at Chicago Midway tonight, but I'm not going to make it. Could I get a car here instead?"

"Oh, I don't do that."

"Then why am I talking to you? Who do I call?"

"You need to call reservations."

So I called reservations. I spoke to a nice young man who understood my dilemna and told me it would be no problem to change my reservation and that it would just be a little bit more than the $102 rate I originally had.

"OK, how much is it?'

"Um, it's going to be $412."

"FIRST OF ALL, DO NOT tell a customer that the rate is going to SLIGHTLY change when it is, in fact tripling in cost. Forget it."

I called Herr, practically in tears. He told me to just go to the hotel and get a good night's sleep. When I got to the Day's Inn shuttle, there were about 30 people from my flight trying to get on. After it was full, there were still a lot of people who needed a ride. The driver said he would be back in about 45 minutes. I took a cab.

When I got the the Days Inn, I handed the hotel voucher to the lady behind the counter, at which point she said,

"I'm sorry, but we don't have any rooms left."

At that point, my head exploded. I am quite impressed that I was very calm when I told her that a hotel should NOT give vouchers to airlines to give out to stranded passengers if they don't have the rooms to give. I told her that I wasn't going back to the airport and that she was going to have to find a room for me. While I glared at her, the phone rang, and she was informed that a quickie had just left and that there was suddenly a room available. Actually, I don't know if it was a quickie or not. All I know is that one minute there wasn't a room and the next minute there was. Draw your own conclusions. The lady behind the counter told me that they would need about a half hour to clean the room and that I should use my meal voucher in the restaurant/bar.

I was quite grateful that this hotel had a restaurant. I don't think I have ever been to a Days Inn that had one. It was totally what you would expect from a restaurant that has a specials board featuring "Chicken Casadillas." To my surprise, the elderly man who had been in line with me in Detroit was sitting at the bar with 3 martinis lined up in a row. He saw me and shouted, "Come here, Honey--I'm buying you a beer!" So I sat next to him, had a beer and ate a grilled cheese sandwich. And it was lovely. Life is always better after eating a grilled cheese. After I finished, I went to my room. I didn't care that the carpet hadn't been vacuumed since the Regan administration. And for people who know how uptight I am about hotel rooms, that should surprise you. I called Herr back to tell him that I had a room and that he should call me the next morning super early so that I could get to the airport.

At 5:15 AM, my cell phone rang. It was Herr, telling me that NWA had just called and that my flight to Midway was cancelled due to unscheduled maintenance and that the soonest they could get me to Midway was Saturday afternoon. I told him that I had no choice but to drive from Detroit and I asked him to reserve a car for me online. It turned out that reserving the car online was more than $150 cheaper than what the Jackass had quoted on the phone the night before. I took a shower, ate some breakfast and headed to Avis.

Once I got to Avis, I had no problem getting my car. While I was sitting in the car looking for I-94 on the map of Detroit, I saw a car quickly coming toward me. You guessed it--an Avis employee hit my car with another rental car. After an accident report was filled out and the poor kid probably got fired the second I left I was on my way. Unfortunately, what should have been a 2 1/2 hour drive was more like a 3 1/2 hour drive because the windshield wipers weren't working properly and I had to keep pulling over to clean the windows. Fortunately, LaPorte is on Central Time, so I felt like I gained an hour when I crossed the Michigan border into Indiana. After all of that, I was finally home.

I guess it should come as no surpise to anyone reading this post that Herr called me at 7:15 AM Sunday morning to tell me that, you guess it, NWA had called to say that my flight was cancelled due to unscheduled maintenance and that they had booked me on a Delta flight that went to Atlanta and then I would catch a flight to Philadelphia. And it was leaving earlier than my original flight. While I was freaked out that I had to haul major ass on I-90 to get to the airport on time, I was relieved that I was on a completely different airline. There was no way that lightening could strike to that degree again. And it didn't. My flights home were uneventful. The best part was that I had my choice of a full size bag of Sun Chips, a granola bar, cookies, or crackers for a snack. And I didn't have to pay for them. Actually, the best part was the simple fact that I got home.

Hausfraus in Vegas

Herr and I returned from Las Vegas late Sunday afternoon well-rested and rich exhausted and reeking of stale cigar smoke. It was extremely difficult getting up this morning and back into the Monday-Friday grind today, but it was completely worth it. We had a blast.

We stayed at the Bellagio and had a great view of the strip, as you can see from the photo above. We also had a good view of the Bellagio fountains. The hotel was wonderful in almost every possible way. The only thing negative I can say about the place is that it is too.damn.big. It literally took 20 minutes to go from our room to the street in order to get anywhere.

Our friends Frank and Laura didn't get in until Friday afternoon, so Herr and I amused ourselves for the first 24 hours. In typical fashion (for us), we found the first outdoor bar we could find (next door at Caesar's Palace) and enjoyed some beers in the 65 degree weather. Then we decided to grab a late lunch at Mesa Grill, which was better than I expected. We had a goat cheese fundida that was so good that I wanted to lick the skillet. Not wanting to pass out at 5PM because of the time change, we took naps and got up in the early evening. That evening, we went to Paris to check out the Eiffel Tower and the casino. While I was cashing out the $2.50 I won in the nickel slots, a guy came up to Herr and asked him if we wanted free tickets to see The Producers that night. It turned out it was a media showing that night as opening night was going to be the next evening. The tickets included passes to an after party. The show started in 15 minutes, so we hurried in as I didn't want to keep David Hasselhoff waiting. That's right-- David Hasselhoff was starring in it. I wasn't passing this up!

I learned a couple of important lessons that evening. The first lesson was that a few men still actually have (and wear) their Knight Rider leather jackets, purchased in the height of the show's popularity in 1984. The second lesson was that one needs to wear their absolute best clothes at all times in Las Vegas, even if it's just to go get some coffee or chase the housekeeper down for some extra towels. One never knows when one may be given tickets to what may be the premier event for all of Las Vegas society. That way, one won't feel EXTREMELY out of place and uncomfortable in one's otherwise comfy capri pants and flip flops while mingling with the Las Vegas media and locals who are dressed to the fucking nines. Despite my discomfort for feeling like I was born into the Clampett family, the show was fantastic. Hoff was extremely funny, AAAAANNNNNDDD Mel Brooks was two rows in front of us. Upon leaving the show, we opted to go back to our hotel and bag the after party since we just weren't dressed to meet David. Call me a fool for missing out on an opportunity. I just couldn't do it.

Friday night, Frank, Laura, Herr and I went to Rosemary's for dinner, which is out in the Las Vegas suburbs. Go there. Wow. Wow. Wow. We went there based on the recommendation of some friends who ate there a few weeks ago. The food was spectacular and the service was truly amazing. You know you're going to experience good service when you sit down at a table and the server trades your friend's white napkin for a black one so that her black outfit won't get white lint on it. I'm just sayin'. Frank is a chef by trade, so when he's really happy with a meal, I know that it's even better than I thought. Try the scallops. And the chestnut soup.***UPDATE: Rosemary's Restaurant called me on Tuesday morning on my cell phone to ask me if we enjoyed dinner on Friday night. That is a first!!!

The rest of the weekend was spent walking up and down the strip A LOT, window shopping, drinking, eating, people watching, walking down Fremont Street and playing nickel slots. I am not a gambler, but I managed to win $102 on nickel slots at the Alladin on Saturday morning. My winnings allowed me to purchase these in a black patent leather due to my feet feeling a little sore from the shoes I wore Friday night. My new shoes came along with me to Olives on Saturday evening. We sat out on the deck and watched the fountains go off every few minutes, which was quite fun. The food was good, but our server was a disaster.

All in all, Vegas was a great getaway for a few days. We didn't spend our kids' college funds on the blackjack tables, although we did pay $6 per for bottled water. We got to enjoy some warm weather while it was 10 degrees in Bethlehem, we got to eat some great food, and we got to spend time with good friends we just don't get to see enough. That's pretty damn great if you ask me.

Two Years Old!!!

Genna turned two on Saturday. While some of the days have dragged, it has been a whirlwind two years. Since Genna was born, we have lived in three different houses in three states. Herr has gone to work for one company, got laid off from said company a mere 12 months later, and has gone back to his old company. I've gone from being a SAHM to a NSAHM (a Never Stay at Home Mom) to a Mom working part time outside of the home. Ella has grown by leaps and bounds. Genna has gone from the potted plant stage to a kid who never sits still, speaks her mind (quite loudly)and loves a good tickle.

We had a small party for Genna which was sort of nice. Unfortunately, my neighbor came to the party and made my friend so uncomfortable and upset that she left. It wasn't until Herr, his mother and I started to compare notes with regard to the neighbor that we discovered how truly awful she was. Herr and I felt horrible that we didn't step in and say something. That won't happen again. While I won't go into the sordid details in this post, let's just say that this woman completely babies her child and made backhanded accusatory comments about my friend's kids. The woman completely lacks the ability to self-edit. We've had some small issues with these neighbors, but this was the icing on the cake.

Fortunately, Genna and the other kids were much too young to sense the undercurrent of tension. As far as Genna was concerned, she got to eat a Cookie Monster birthday cake, open presents and run around like a loon. That's good stuff people.

















Herr and I are heading to Vegas for a long weekend on Thursday. We are looking forward to hanging out with our friends Frank and Laura who live in Seattle. We are lucky enough to see Laura fairly frequently because she travels to New York for buying trips. Unfortuntately, Frank never goes on those trips. It will be fun to catch up, eat, drink and people watch. It will also be great to hear from Laura what will be in style over the next couple of seasons. I do, however, have some bad news: Pleated pants are coming back. I'm sorry to be the one to break it to you.

In the few hours that I am NOT spending the kid's college funds on the slot machines or buying shoes this weekend, I will finish the book I am reading for a new bookclub I have joined. Well, I'll try.

It's Fashion Week!

It has been a Fashion Week here to beat the band at Hausfrau Haus. The boldness of Ella's creations have reached new heights in her quest to achieve the perfect Oililly meets Goodwill look. I think she has succeeded:
Ella's collection proves that clothes know no season. This little stunner shows such versatility. She is able to be a "girl on the go" and show up to Pre-K, ready to learn about the penguins in the arctic. She'll stay warm when she goes outside for recess, thanks in large part to the high quality tights with the cute little horses on them. In a flash, she can go from coed to party girl at McDonald's simply by removing the sweater.










When Ella first started this collection, she wanted to not only create ensembles that are fun for her to wear, but her sister as well. She took charge of putting together a collection for toddlers like Genna. And while she has also offered to design a collection for her parents, they have politely declined.













Ella also has taken the sleepwear industry by storm. Ella has completely done away with the "less is more philosophy" from the Fall 2006 collection. Why NOT wear two and sometimes three nightgowns together with some pajama pants?! Credit for the pajama pant inspiration is given to Herr due to his insistence that Ella keep her legs warm in bed. Top this little number off with a shimmery pink jacket, and it's off to slumberland! Sleepwear industry insiders are predicting double-digit increases this year!


While Herr and I frequently laugh at Ella's get-ups, I am secretly so proud that she has this quirky fashion sense. She doesn't have any of the hangups that most girls have--that will come, I'm sure. I hope that teenager Ella is going to be like Molly Ringwald in a "Pretty in Pink" sort of way and not like Bai Ling, who provides so much material for those Fug Girls.

Hausfrau's Resume Tips

Fifty percent of my time at work is spent reading resumes. Over the course of 12 years in Human Resources, I have learned a thing or two about resume writing. I've even conducted workshops. After reading through a pile of truly shitty astonishing resumes today, I felt compelled to note just a couple of things that should NOT be on a resume. Maybe a few of you are looking to update your resumes. Perhaps this will help you. What can I say--I'm a giver.

1. NEVER list hobbies or interests on your resume. Unfortunately, no one in HR cares that you sing in a barbershop quartet on the weekends. No one in HR cares that you volunteer at a soup kitchen. No one in HR cares that your interests are, "hiking, reading and spending time with family." People in HR want to be able to read a resume to see if the candidate's skill set is a match. They have jobs to fill and they don't have time to sift through a massive list of hobbies that are used as filler on a resume. While this may sound harsh, have you EVER heard of someone getting that sweet job in marketing because of their cooking club affiliation? Yeah, I thought not.

2. NEVER put your photo on the resume. I realize that this has historically been a requirement in countries like Japan and France. It isn't here. Your Glamour Shots photo is NOT going to entice someone in HR to pick up the phone to call. Instead, it will be emailed around to various colleagues within the department. And much discussion will occur concerning the choice of hairstyle, blouse and lipstick that the candidate chose for the photo session. Also, please don't put things like your social security number and your age. It's for your own protection.

3. When indicating that you are fluent in something, please make sure that you are referring to fluency in a LANGUAGE. Please do not write that you are "fluent in Micrsoft Word." That's like saying that you are fluent in sending faxes or getting to work on time. Let's also be clear that Klingon is NOT considered a foreign language in the workplace. The only resumes that get forwarded throughout a company for a good laugh faster than a resume with a photo is a resume that features ANYTHING with Star Trek.

Some of you may be rolling your eyes and thinking, "I would never put this stuff in my resume." Unfortunately, for every person who doesn't do this stuff, there are three who do.

Have You Seen Me?

I really hope you have. Dr. Hibbard went missing sometime this weekend. Normally, I wouldn't care less about a Simpson's action figure's disappearance. However, Dr. Hibbard is Genna's lovey.

Most children crave the warmth and coziness that teddy bears or a blankie provides. Ella has a couple of lovies, Lambie and Bear. They are "unstuffed" animals made by Gund. If one is ever lost, I can get a replacement lickety-split. Genna, on the other hand, prefers an old stuffed carrot rattle she has had since she was about six months old and Dr. Hibbard, whose nose has been partly bitten off. The rest of the nose was cut with nail clippers so she wouldn't gouge herself or someone else.

Dr. Hibbard was purchased by Herr at a Burger King several years ago when he started collecting the Simpson's Playsets. I am sure that was a special day for Herr since he A) More than likely indulged himself with a Double Whopper with Cheese and B) got to add to his growing collection of Simpson's crap collectibles. Over the span of six years and three moves, Herr's collection was relegated to a Rubbermaid tote in the basement. One October afternoon, Genna came upstairs after playing with her sister. She was holding something and kissing it. She was talking to it and putting it up to her ear as if it were telling her a secret. "It" turned out to be Dr. Hibbard.

Herr and I thought that Genna's lovies were a bit strange, but we rolled with it. We thought it had something to do with the fact that she never really "took" to any of the stuffed animals we gave her as a baby the way Ella did. We thought that she was a late bloomer in the bonding department, so why NOT a Hibbard instead of a stuffed rabbit?! Every night, she would say, "Where Carrot? Where Hibbard?" and we would make sure they were on her pillow in her crib. She would grab one in each hand, turn on her belly, and tuck her hands into her belly. Every morning, she would be gripping Carrot and Hibbard in her hands and insist that they be a part of her daily routine. We even found it cute enough to take pictures of her hanging with them during meals.
In the back of my mind, I kept thinking that I should keep an eye on it in case it gets lost. Several mornings I pulled Genna's crib from the wall upon hearing her panicked cries of, "HIBBARD!! Get Hibbard!" while desperately pointing to the floor. I even looked on Ebay a month or so ago, but didn't see one that was the same. I figured I had some time. Apparently my time is up.

If anyone knows where I can score Dr. Hibbard (with the skull in his hands--not the Jekyll and Hyde version that is currently on Ebay) PLEASE let me know.


***UPDATE*** My pal, Chag, emailed me to tell me that I had been mispelling the dear Doctor's name--it's Hibbert. This was great information BECAUSE Chag found an identical Dr. Hibbert action figure on Ebay. At precisely the same time I was getting ready to buy it, I saw Bosco playing with something in the living room. After I saw him prancing around, I ran after him. Sure enough, he had found Dr. Hibbert. Fortunately, Bosco didn't maul him. Unfortunately, the Ebay Dr. Hibbert was already sold by the time I got back to buying it. However, there are A LOT of Dr. Hibbert dolls on Ebay. I still plan to stock up. All is right in our world again.

Happy New Year

I am not one to make New Year's Resolutions. I find the process to be a waste of time. I know that I am too old and lazy to really change many of my ways. I know I will probably always hold grudges. I will always cry when I watch "The Sound of Music." I will always be sarcastic. I will always laugh at inappropriate times. I will always hate to go to the gym.

While I don't promise to change my life while drinking myself into a stupor on New Year's Eve, I DO become quite nostalgic and wonder about some of the people who have been in my life at some point in time or another. While I consider myself to be incredibly lucky to have the most wonderful friends in the world, I still can't help but wonder what happened to a few people I used to know.

First, there's Barbara, whom I met in 6th grade at Critchfield Elementary School. I found her to be so fascinating and worldly because she came to our little town all the way from Rochester, New York. And she was Jewish. At the time I was fairly certain that she and the rest of her family were Jewish settlers, braving our christian town to live a better life than what they had. You have to understand--I REALLY don't think any Jewish people lived in our town at the time. And it showed. Once word got out that she was Jewish, some of the kids in my classes harrassed her. I remember one bully in particular would bellow, "JEWWWWW!" when she walked down the hall. The popular girls ignored her. But she always kept her cool. On the one hand, I was thrilled that I wasn't the only person being ignored by the popular girls. My crime had more to do with my Salvation Army wardrobe than my religion. On the other hand, I was embarrased that my classmates were so immature and petty. Besides, I had just read every Judy Blume book in the school library, so I felt as though I knew all about the Jews. And periods. And sex.

At any rate, Barbara and I became good friends until she moved back to Rochester our freshman year of high school. We wrote letters for a year or so, but she quickly became sophisticated again simply by being back in New York. I always wondered about her and hoped she was well. I did find her in college while I did a research project for one of my Journalism classes. We were given the task to find someone from our past. This was before the internet,so it actually took time. Looking back, I realized that this is more like an assignment in stalking, but I enjoyed the prospect of finding her and reconnecting. While we did speak on the phone for a few minutes, the whole thing was weird and we never spoke again.

I often wonder about my last three roommates from college. Emily, Steven, Bruce and I lived in a fantastic house my last year or so at IU. All three of them were opera singers studying their Masters degrees at Indiana University's Music School. I was the only one in the house who couldn't carry a tune. Our house always had laughter and singing and drama which is what made it so much fun. Bruce was this HUGE man whose voice BELLOWED through the house. Steven was tiny and always bringing boys home. I loved his voice but I always imagined him doing Broadway. Emily was this amazingly funny girl who had absolutely no confidence in her ability. The first time I saw her perform, I cried. The four of us had lots of crazy parties and lots of interesting adventures, like the time I had to drive to Louisville on a Sunday morning to bail Steven out of jail for a DUI.

I left the house first when Herr and I moved to St. Louis. We all tried to stay in touch but it became so difficult with their nomadic lives. Steven settled in Chicago and struggled for a long time. I saw him about 10 years ago and he was doing OK. Then he got lung cancer and he stopped answering my emails. Bruce and I saw each other once in Washington, DC where he was performing for a summer. Emily actually lives in Europe most of the year and has performed all over the world. I am happy that I am able to follow her success, and hope to see her perform again soon. I hate that I don't know what happened to Bruce, and especially Steven.

I also thought about my old friend Tonia this year. I went to high school with Tonia but didn't actually get to know her until we were servers at the same restaurant during our junior or senior year. Tonia grew up in a very strict and religious home. We became close during a time when she was rebelling against her parents. She spent a semester in London her sophomore year of college and met a boy who was going to grad school in Kansas. Once she met him, she became wild and crazy. I loved this crazy new Tonia, except her boyfriend called her "Tone-ya." They talked about bodily fluids and lit their farts on fire.

Tonia became a person who LIVED to cross the line, and I loved her for it. A prime example of crossing the line was the time I admitted that I had hooked up with a guy at IU one weekend, not knowing that the guy was dating my co-worker. I was mortified because I really liked my co-worker and I was angry that this guy treated her this way. Upon telling Tonia and my friend Lori about it,Tonia hatched a plan in which we would send this guy a pizza delivery that he would never forget. And she, um, orchestrated the whole thing. Now if that isn't the sign of a good friend, than what is?! Tonia ended up marrying the college boyfriend and we all moved away from each other. Herr and I saw them about 10 years ago when they were visiting Washington, DC. We met them at a very expensive restaurant and watched as they and their friends split a salad and about 4 baskets of bread. I think she became a nurse and I think he is some sort of social worker and an elected official in the town in which they reside. Every time I go home I want to call her parents to get her number, but the thought of doing that makes me feel like I am 19 again. I imagine the disapproval of her mother since I think she blamed Tonia's girlfriends on her changes.

I would be lying if I didn't admit to wondering about some of the boys I dated. The part of me that carries a grudge hopes that several of them were victims of prison rape. Like Matt, who was my date for a wedding until he left the reception with another girl. THAT was a fantastic 3 hour drive back to school the next day. Or Kevin, who hid pot all over the apartment my friend Lori and I lived in without our knowledge. While that may not seem like much of a big deal,he would freak out when he couldn't remember where he put it. Since we didn't know he was hiding pot, he would just have fits of rage instead of telling me wha the problem was. Had I known, I would have GLADLY given it to him as it was apparent he really needed it. I later found out he cheated on me every chance he could. And he smoked crack. Yes, crack.
All in all, I don't like to think about the old boyfriends for very long. In the end, I am always grateful that I met Herr.

While it was great to think back to some fun times with good friends, I don't think I will make any promises to spend 2007 looking for any of them. It's not like any of them have come looking for me as far as I know. Besides, I am pretty happy where I am with the friends I have. And I have to go to the gym.

It's A Holly,Jolly Hausfrau

Things are getting back to normal here at Hausfrau Haus. We had a delightful Christmas, but I am eager to take down our Charlie Brown Christmas Tree and vacuum the corner where it has been living for the past month.

Christmas was somewhat simple this year because the only family who came to visit was my mother-in-law. She is very easy-going, so I don't have to stress about the way my home is decorated or if the children have dirty faces when she arrives. It's also easier when she comes because I don't have to make sure to have four bottles of bourbon on hand for an eight day visit like I did for my mom last Christmas.

This year, Ella actually understood the glory of Santa. I previously struggled with the idea of explaining Santa to her. I went ahead and did it and proceeded to use the "Santa Card" whenever she was acting up. You know the card: "Ella, Santa can see you when you are having a temper tantrum." Or, "Ella, Santa can see you when you are pushing your sister. My personal favorite was, " Ella, Santa's not going to come to our house if you keep picking your nose and eating it." You get the idea. The mere threat of Santa not coming over the night of the 24th really set her on a path of good behavior, with the exception of the nose picking stuff--she just became sneakier about it. Ella was excited to decorate some cookies for Santa and had carrots in a bowl for the reindeer. The look on her face when she came down on Christmas morning and saw that the cookie plate was empty was one of such happiness and wonder. It was one of those moments that you want to bottle and keep forever.

The present opening circus was fairly well contained. I should first tell you that the kids got a lot of presents. A LOT. None of the presents under the tree were from us. The kids got no less than 30 packages under the tree. Each. Twenty-five of which were from Grandma. This is an issue I have struggled with since Ella was born. I should first mention how much I LOVE my MIL. I thank God every single day that I have the MIL that I have been given. I am truly lucky to have a MIL who drops everything to help her family. She doesn't intrude. She doesn't interfere. She makes the most kick-ass Beef and Noodles EVER. She is generous, sweet and kind. Her generosity, however, is her weakness. Grandma loves to buy stuff for her grandkids. I get it. But she is so worried about being fair to all of her grandchildren, that she will purchase all kinds of unneccesary crap to make sure all the kids are on a level playing field. It doesn't matter that we don't even see the other three kids at Christmas. I have asked her on more than one occasion to stop buying so much. I have asked her to spend just $50 on each child . Herr informed me that was "ludicrous" and not realistic (WTF?!?!). I have asked her to take half of the money she would spend and put it in the kids' college funds. I have asked her to just give the girls a hand-knit sweater and a doll quilt (she makes INCREDIBLE handmade stuff. She.will.not.stop at just that. Grandma always claims that, "this was only $7.00" or "books don't count." What she doesn't understand is that we don't WANT the girls to get a brand new life-size teddy bear every year for Christmas.

It's not just the money that she spends, however. My mother is not financially sound and often doesn't send gifts because she just doesn't have the money to do so. I asked my MIL a couple of years ago to stop spending so much on Ella because I didn't want her to ever notice that one grandmother gives her more "stuff" than the other. I told her that I didn't want Ella to EVER feel that one grandmother loves her more than the other because of the amount of stuff she gives her. Her solution to that issue at the time was that she would just buy extra presents and we could tell Ella that they were from my mother. That is probably the only time I ever lost my temper with her. It's obvious that it has done no good.

This year I decided to videotape the opening of the presents so that I could send it to my mom. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to edit out 80% of it because almost every present was from my MIL. My mother sent one gift to each girl. I can't have my mom looking at Ella hugging Grandma for each and every one of the 25 presents she got from her and only one,"Thank you, Busia" directed at the camera. It would break her heart. Herr said that his mother went overboard and that it has to stop. Good luck with that, Herr. In the meantime, I told Herr that Ella is old enough to understand that in the future, when something comes into the house, something needs to leave the house.

In other news, I have been searching for a new daycare for the girls. I have found one that has a fantastic facility and curriculum. I had planned on waiting to see if the new facility was feasible with my new commute that I will be making to King of Prussia, PA starting next week. That plan suddenly moved up this evening when Herr came home FUMING because, yet again, Ella was fed a sugared cereal for breakfast this morning. When Herr approached the employee, she stared at him like he was from outer space when he asked if she had been told of our request to not feed Ella stuff like Lucky Charms. She said that she hadn't but that they have an alternative--Honey Nut Cheerios. I am assuming that he stormed out of there because the Director of the daycare called us while we were eating dinner and swore up and down that Ella has not been fed Lucky Charms since I spoke to him last. He also indicated that they are at the mercy of their food supplier (WTF?!) and don't always have plain Cheerios, etc. At this point, it isn't the cereal that is the issue. Quite frankly, I am probably sounding like my kids live in a bubble and we feed them only organic food. That is so not the case.We are tired of paying a sub-par daycare $1100/month for 3 days a week to be ignored. I will not be ignored.

Uptight Mother or Justified Anger? You Decide!

I remember packing Ella's lunchbox on her first day of daycare when we first moved to Cincinnati in April of 2005. I packed the usual: cottage cheese, carrots, a hummus sandwich and some raisins. It was same thing I packed for her when I used to take her to daycare when we lived in New Jersey. It was a healthy lunch in my opinion, and I dropped her off at school without giving it another thought. Imagine my dismay when I opened her empty lunch box that night and saw a pre-printed note indicating that Ella's lunch had not met the State of Ohio's Nutritional Guidelines for Pre-School Children. Apparently they didn't count the hummus as a protein, so they counted the cottage cheese as a protein, meaning there wasn't enough calcium in her lunchbox. The note referred to the Goddard School Handbook for reference .

I remember being really pissed. How dare they tell me that I am not feeding my child in a healthy manner?! There were no cookies, chips or Diet Coke in her lunchbox. I didn't throw a Lunchables in her box and call it a day. I eventually got over it and made damn sure that Ella never came home with a note like that again.

When we moved here to Bethlehem in August, I started searching for a daycare for the girls since I was going to be going back to work. I found a daycare that was really close to our house. It was a happy environment, clean and fairly reasonable. The best part was that the weekly rate included everything--diapers, breakfast, lunch and two snacks daily. It was going to be GREAT to be able to drop the kids off three days a week without having to schlep food and diapers for them. Part of the information I brought home was a menu of the kids' meals. While I wasn't thrilled with the Beefaroni every other Wednesday and the canned fruits on the menu, I figured I would give it a shot.

Last week I was trying to coax Ella into getting dressed a little faster so that we could leave the house on time at 6:30 AM.

"Hurry up, Ella. We've got to get going. Where are your shoes?"

"I'm really hungry Mommy."

"I know, but you'll eat breakfast when you get to school."

"OH YEAH! We're going to have Lucky Charms for breakfast. Yummy! I do love those Lucky Charms!"

"Excuse me? Did you say you are eating Lucky Charms at school?"

"Uh huh."

"But Ella, are you sure you're eating Lucky Charms at school? I thought you eat Cheerios there."

"Nooooo Mommy, Cheerios are for babies."

"Honey, are you SURE? I mean, you ate Lucky Charms in Canada as a treat."

"I KNOW! Lucky Charms aren't just in Canada anymore!"

I chalked up our discussion to Ella's imagination and wishful thinking. While I don't feel I am a really uptight parent when it comes to food, I don't feed my kids cereals that have sugar. I just never have. I didn't think for one minute that the daycare was serving Lucky Charms to the kids, so I forgot about it until Ella brought up that she had eaten Lucky Charms for breakfast that day. I still didn't believe it, but I asked one of the daycare aides when I was there on Wednesday. Imagine my surprise when she said that they DO feed the older kids Lucky Charms. She asked if it was a problem. I told her it was and that I would appreciate it if she fed Ella only Cheerios. She said that it wouldn't be a problem, and that she would alert the other workers.

Friday night, Corey called me in the car to say that he had just picked up the girls and that the first thing out of Ella's mouth was that she had eaten Lucky Charms for breakfast.

W.T.F.

I immediately called the daycare and spoke to Mr. Mike, the Director. I told him that I was willing to give the employee I spoke to that morning the benefit of the doubt that she had forgotten to inform the others to not feed Ella Lucky Charms. I did however, expect that it wouldn't happen again and that I want it made clear that my girls are to NOT eat sugar cereals. Mr. Mike apologized profusely and promised to make everyone aware that Ella is to eat Cheerios in the future. I was pleased that I had controlled my anger on the phone, yet made my request clear.

I'll give you three guesses as to what Ella had for breakfast this morning at daycare.

I'd love to hear how y'all would handle this.

The Big Four

Baby Girl is going to be four years old tomorrow. I was completely fine during her birthday party on Saturday night. I was fine this morning when she came into our room and told us that, "I had the most WONDERFUL birthday party, Mommy and Daddy."

Tonight when I tucked her in, I told her that she was going to be four years old when she wakes up tomorrow morning. She gasped with absolute joy and said, "Oh Mommy, I can't WAIT to wake up tomorrow morning!"

I've been crying ever since.

Good Times on I-78

I may have previously mentioned that I am working again for my former employer. I have done various recruiting projects for them since I left New Jersey a couple of years ago. Now that I am not living in Ohio, I've been doing projects for them at some of their offices throughout Central New Jersey. They pay me well and I am glad to do it. This latest project, however, has been rough. I work at the office Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays and work from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. While I could write an entire post on "It Really Sucks Working at Home When Your Kids Are There Too," I will table that for another day.

The toughest part of my job has been my commute. On a good day, I can cover the 86 miles in about 90 minutes. On a bad day, it is 2+ hours. On the one hand, I really don't feel right about bitching. I agreed to do the project and am being paid mileage to go to and from work right now because I am doing this favor for them. But the drive SUCKS. It just does. Anyone who knows Interstate 78 knows my pain. Interstate 78 is a stretch of highway that goes into New York. Parts of it are always under construction. It is a main artery for many New Jerseyans' commutes. Because so many people from New York and New Jersey are moving to the Easton/Bethlehem/Allentown, PA area, the traffic snarls have extended out there as well. My husband currently leaves the house at 5:15 AM to avoid the traffic I am faced with a mere 90 minutes later. Sometimes the traffic jams up because of accidents, the sun, the rain or the snow. The rest of the time it is anyone's guess as to why it takes so damned long to get where you need to go.

In the few months of this commuting, I have learned a few things. First of all, I no longer bring coffee on my drive. The lack of caffeine that I suffer through until I get to work is a far cry from the suffering I have faced in not having a bathroom readily accessible. Secondly, I learned that satellite radio is one of the best investments one can make. In addition, I have learned to bring reading materials. The Wall Street Journal has kept me from going batshit on more than one occasion I was stuck in non-moving traffic for upwards of 30 minutes.

One of the more amusing things I have discovered is that I am not the only person who leaves at precisely the same time every day. There are a few cars I recognize on my drive, and I think they recognize me. There is the guy who drives a United States Homeland Security SUV. There is the woman who drives a really horrible yellow Honda. I am sure there are many more, but they blend in with all of the other cars. Another plus with this commute is that the people watching is FANTASTIC. I recently spent one morning counting the people I caught picking their noses (six). One morning I spent counting people who were singing (three.) Believe me, when you are stuck in the same place on a road for reasons only known by God, you'll learn to appreciate the little things that may amuse you.

Yesterday's commute started off like any other--a slowdown near the PA/NJ border, construction at mile marker 7, more slowdowns at 11, and 15. After that, my drive was looking good. I actually was driving about 75 MPH, thinking that I might get to work at a decent time. A shorter drive is normally just as boring, but then I quickly realized that I had hit commuter GOLD. The black Nissan Altima ahead of me was being driven by a man whose two hands were on his head. That's because he was SHAVING HIS HEAD WITH CLIPPERS while driving 75+ MPH! I followed this man for close to eight miles, completely riveted by what he was doing. One hand did the clipping while the other hand checked to make sure he hadn't missed anything. So many thoughts were running in my head like, "Doesn't he care that he is getting hair all over himself and his car?" and, "Is he driving with his legs?"

Of course I wasn't the only person who noticed. People were passing him with, "WTF???" expressions on their faces. He just kept on shaving. Of course, I got on my phone and called my girlfriend Amy and was all, "OH MY GOD, you won't believe this guy in front of me!!!" and "Where is a COP when you need one!" Then, out of nowhere, he pulled into the far left lane (still shaving mind you)and passed a car and sped away. He was easily doing 80 MPH.

Suddenly, applying mascara while driving really doesn't seem like a big deal anymore. Nor does eating a Taco Bell Grande without dropping anything on yourself.

Hausfrau Thanksgiving Update

The Hausfrau Family returned from Canada on Saturday tired and uncomfortable. Herr and I were still full from Thanksgiving dinner AND the enormous amounts of food we felt we had to eat on Friday (no leftovers mind you!) I am just now getting my appetite back.

We had an awesome time with the Cleavers. We always do. The kids all got along really well and there were minimal time-out sessions. June and I had a lot of fun planning all things Thanksgiving. My problem is that I tend to take over, which I did once I got here. In retrospect, I feel bad because it was JUNE'S Thanksgiving dinner at HER house. At any rate, dinner turned out superb. The Cleaver's invited some new friends of theirs which was really nice as well.

The return trip was long because we had to wait at the US/Canadian border for nearly 90 minutes, but we still got home at a decent hour on Saturday. I'm already planning my return trip in the summer.

I would be remiss if I didn't share all of the things we learned while in Canada:

1. It takes shopping at two grocery stores to find all of the ingredients necessary for an American Thanksgiving dinner. Our challenges were finding cranberries in any form, pork sausage, cocktail rye and cornbread.

2. Ella learned that Lucky Charms is a "Canadian Cereal" and isn't available in the USA.

3. Everyone should have a mani-pedi on Thanksgiving.

4. The Trailer Park Boys may be my favorite new television show. I had high hopes for Porno Valley but was disappointed. Porno Valley is allegedly a documentary about porn stars and their daily lives. I was looking forward to seeing porno stars studying for the bar (it could happen!), fixing dinner for their spouses or carpooling the kids to soccer whilst waxing poetic about the merits of their jobs. Instead, it was an episode where they were all in Vegas for some Porno Awards Show. While I could care less about who won, "Best Anal Scene," I did laugh at the porn star whose date was her "Gramma."

5. Poutine. Jesus.H.Christ.

6. I learned about this while reading "Chatelaine" magazine. My hunch is that it would be more for the gal who has Primus or heavy metal music downloaded on her iPod.

7. One really CAN eat too many truffles.

American Thanksgiving in Canada

Family Hausfrau is heading to North North Dakota Canada tomorrow to spend the Thanksgiving Holiday with the Cleaver Family. The Hausfrau/Cleaver roadshow will consist of five children under the age of five and four adults waiting for bedtime.

Initially, Corey was concerned with the prospect of celebrating Thanksgiving in Canada. His primary concern was that he wouldn't be able to watch American football and would be stuck watching curling. Once he was assured that there would be some sort of football watching, he was totally up for it.

I, on the other hand, can't WAIT to get there. First of all, I love spending Thanksgiving with friends. Last year was the first and only year that we spent the holiday with family. Don't get me wrong--I love my family. But I love a drama free holiday even more. Here are some other reasons why Thanksgiving is going to ROCK:

1. There will be no stupid Thanksgiving crowds at the grocery store on Wednesday. Because Canada had their Thanksgiving a month ago, I will NOT be using the grocery cart as a battering ram to get through my last minute dinner shopping.

2. We won't have to worry about Black Friday as it will just be a normal Friday for all Canadians.

3. While the turkey is cooking, the children are napping, and the husbands are watching reruns of Degrassi High, June and I will be enjoying mani-pedis at the nearby salon. Imagine that sort of luxury on Thanksgiving. The added benefit of that because we will be at the salon, we won't be stuffing our faces prior to dinner . Pretty toes and less weight gain. God, I love Canada!

Hausfrau Hotel/Motel Review

I remembered reading about Kate's Lazy Meadow Motel a couple of years ago and thought it would be really cool to someday stay there. How could it not? It is owned by Kate Pierson of the B-52s. According to the website, Kate was travelling through the Catskills and found an old motel for sale. She and her friends then redesigned each room to be kitschy and super fun. She also started buying Airstream campers and redoing those as well and parking them on the banks of the Esophus Creek. Each room is different from the next and a couple of rooms are suites with full kitchens. The website indicated that they used luxury linens and fancy toiletries from all the hotels in Kate's travels. As far as I was concerned, it was going to be a slam dunk.

I made my reservation two weeks in advance. Because they have a one month cancellation policy, I decided to only reserve one night in case my plans got ruined. I figured it would be better to be out one night's money instead of two. Ethan took my reservation over the phone and immediately sent me an email confirmation. His email was very informative and had an attachment listing several area restaurants and things to do. I had told him we probably wouldn't get here until 10PM on Wednesday. Ethan said that he wouldn't be in the office then, but that they keys would be haing outside the door. I was surprised by that, but whatever.

Let me first say that you have to really WANT to stay there. The Lazy Meadow Motel is in the middle of NOWHERE in Mt. Tremper, NY. When we pulled into the motel at 6:30 at night, we were surprised to be the only ones there. Sure enough, the keys were in an envelope on the office door. Since it was pitch black and raining, we couldn't see anything. We easily found Room #3.

The door itself was tricky. Corey had to use his body to force the warped door open. Upon inspection, it appeared that the door was made with MDF and didn't really close at the top. No matter--the room looked REALLY COOL!






We slept well in the room that night. We really weren't upset by the fact that no one else was on the property and our door was kind of broken and the heat didn't work because the room WAS SO COOL! We had a kitchen area with a refrigerator and sink, a sitting area in addition to the actual bedroom. We were pretty psyched to move to a different room the next night (because I didn't reserve another night until the day we got there, our room was taken.) Corey mentioned that the shower was the smallest one he had been in EVER so I opted to not shower until we moved to the new room, which was a larger suite. When we returned that afternoon to check into the new room, the only people there were the cleaning people who had just finished our room. We didn't see our key hanging on the office door, so we called Monica the caretaker (she's 5 minutes away) and she told us to go ahead and go back to Room #3 as she switched rooms, thinking she was doing us a favor. We were a little bummed, but we were then pleased that someone had come and fixed the door so that we didn't have to use full force to get in and out of the room. The cleaning people also said they fixed the heat.

That night, people checked into the room next door. I was at that moment we realized that our shared wall was the thickness of construction paper. And their door also appeared to be problematic, which wouldn't have been so bad except the dude kept going outside every 30 minutes to smoke a cigarette until 2AM. After the first 5 times he lumbered in and out, we finally realized that no one was trying to break in and hack us to pieces.

The next morning, I decided to get over my feelings of claustrophobia and take a shower. I grabbed the toiletries that were supposed to be from some exotic hotel. They were actually bottles from the Hampton Inn that had been refilled and affixed with a homemade label. The bar of soap was rewrapped in some sort of paper as well. No matter--I brought my own stuff. Unfortunately, having more than one room occupied at this motel apparently affected the flow of hot water that morning. I decided to wait until we checked into the hotel in Boston to shower.









I have to admit, had this been any other hotel, I would have been quite annoyed. But for the little things that annoyed us, there was something else there that made us extremely happy. For example, check out this selection of movies in our room--apparently a box of several hundred movies were purchased at a garage sale and there was a selection of movies in every room. Who WOULDN'T want to watch Smoky & The Bandit and My Fair Lady in one sitting?!










And while we never did get the heat to work, we really couldn't complain because it wasn't all that cold when we were there. And I have to admit that our room was the cleanest hotel room I have ever stayed in. Ever. There was not a speck of dust nor a cobweb or piece of lint ANYWHERE. The bedding smelled like Downy and the bed was REALLY comfortable.

Despite the fact that my review may sound lukewarm, I have to admit I would absolutely stay there again. I would stay there if I could rent the entire place out for a spring or autumn weekend and have all of my friends there. That way I wouldn't care about the person on the other side of the wall of Room # 3. This was the view from the backyard:









I would also be very tempted to come back and stay in this.









Besides, I figure if I stay there enough times, Kate will eventually be there and I can ask her what the hell they were smoking when they wrote Rock Lobster.

Can't Come Up With a Witty Title For This One

I planned it for months: A weekend away with Herr. We hadn't been away on our own in over two years. We've been stressed, distracted and annoyed with all the little stuff that just shouldn't matter. The trip wasn't much--it was going to be a couple of days in the Catskills and a couple of days in Boston. I cashed in frequent flier miles to fly my Mother-in-law to PA to take care of the girls. The trip itself wasn't such a big deal--it was the fact that I was surprising Herr and I had managed to NOT spill the beans. That's really hard for me as I usually tell him everything.

My plan was to pick up my MIL at 2:00PM at the airport on Wednesday. I would have all day to pack beacuse I was taking the girls to daycare for the day at 7:00AM. I would get a pedicure. I would go sit in a Starbucks somewhere and drink coffee. I would do all the grocery shopping so I wouldn't need to do it when we got back on Sunday.Herr was coming home at 5:00PM. When he walked in the door, I was going to essentially kidnap him and drive to our first location.

Things were off to a good start on Wednesday morning. I started putting clothes aside for the two of us at around 6:00AM, the girls were up and dressed. I was just getting ready to go to the basement to get our suitcases when the phone rang.

"Hey. I've been in an accident. Um, the car is totalled."

Of course I start freaking out, asking him, "AreyouOK? Arethepolicethere? Whathappened? Whereareyou? Areyousureyouaren'thurt?" Corey calmly said he was fine and that the police had just shown up and he needed to talk to them.

After he hung up, I realized that he was an hour away from me in the pouring rain. He needed a ride home, so I called him and told him I would drop the girls off at daycare and get him. It turned out that he had just gotten off the interstate and was on a small road near his work. He saw a deer near the opposite side of the road and slowed down. A minivan coming toward him didn't slow down, saw the deer, and crossed the center line to avoid hitting the deer, thus hitting Herr. The police said it was a no-fault accident, but that clearly isn't the case since the guy crossed the center line.

I spent the drive to New Jersey, trying to figure out how I would NOT tell Herr about the surprise I had in store for him. I quickly realized that the idiot in the minivan RUINED my surprise with his irresponsible action of crossing the center line. Oh well, I figured I would have to tell Herr the surprise, but I wouldn't tell him WHERE we were going.

Two hours later, Herr was on the phone with the car rental agency to get a loaner. He happened to mention that he needed to get it before late afternoon. They in turn asked him WHERE he was going as this particular agency needed special permission to allow customers to take their cars in certain states. Imagine my annoyance when I had to tell him which states we were visiting. Stupid minivan driver. (*NOTE: In reading what I have just written, I realize how absurd this is all sounding. I am currently MUCH more upset about the fact that my husband is bruised and really sore andwe have to buy a new damn car than the fact that Corey learned about the surprise earlier than I wanted him to.)

Our time away turned out to be fantastic. We spent a couple of days in the Catskills and stayed at Kate's Lazy Meadow Motel, which is owned by Kate Pierson of the B-52s. I will write a review of the hotel later this week so that this post won't take 4 hours to read. We spent our time driving around, hiking around, eating and drinking. We got to spend time with our friends, Sarah and Ty and their two adorable children, who live in the area and have a gallery. Traditionally, we see them on Superbowl Weekend and Memorial Weekend, so it was nice seeing them at a different time of year.

On Ty's recommendation, we went hiking at Mohonk Mountain House. Oh.My.God. The views were AMAZING! The resort is positively beautiful, and I am hoping we will perhaps stay there sometime.

After our jaunt in the Catskills, we went to Boston. We stayed at Hotel Marlowe in Cambridge, which was fantastic. We walked from one end of Boston to the other on Saturday. The most fun part of the trip, however, was meeting the famous Cape Buffalo and her wonderful family!

We met up with Cape near our hotel. When Herr and I walked up to her vehicle, she and her adorable daughter were patiently waiting for us. Cape said her husband went to go find a bathroom. After waiting a few minutes, I was convinced he was in the mall connected to our hotel, looking to purchase some mace in case his wife had involved him in a crazy situation with a couple of freaks. After awhile, Cape's husband appeared with bag in hand. Fortunately, it wasn't mace--he had actually stopped by the pet store and bought their daughter a beta fish and a mini aquarium, complete with all that the fish would need for a comfortable home. Cape's daughter promptly named the beta, "Violet" and decided that she was afraid of heights.

After dropping Cape's daughter off at Grandma's house (which happens to have a CRAZY cool view of Boston) we walked around the North End. Cape and her husband were fantastic hosts and guided us through a gastronomical journey of pizza joints and 24-hour bakeries. We watched some old-timers playing bocce and we talked a lot. For once, Herr was a better conversationalist than I. Typically, peoples' eyes glaze over when he is asked about the type of work he does. Cape and her husband actually understood what he was talking about, so he was really comfortable. Cape and her husband were so incredibly nice that I really didn't feel like the dullest knife in the drawer, even though I was.

Our trip back home was uneventful. We had a great time away from the stress of our lives, but we missed the girls. Now life is back to normal: Back to work, back to being parents, and back to dealing with a buying a car.

Catching up with Hausfrau

Life has been nothing short of insanity here at Hausfrau Haus. I have been working on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays in Central NJ and working from home on Tuesdays and Thursdays. The project will last until December, and then I will probably take a break and start painting my bathrooms because, well, my life is exciting that way.

While the work and the money have been great, I have been left with no time to catch up on my favorite blogs. And my blog, forget about it! There are no adorable photos of the girls from Halloween. There are no posts period. It wasn't until I got an email from Andie this morning that I decided to get my ass in gear. What better way to catch up on my end than with a meme? Here goes!


Know Thyself Meme

What is/are YOUR:Easy how-to ways to beat a bad mood?
There is no such thing as an "Easy" way to beat a bad mood. That said, I don't typically stay in a bad mood for prolonged periods of time. I'm usually OK once I have exploded and then removed myself from the situation.

Never-fail lip color?
I tend to go the Kiehl's lip balm route. Their tinted stuff is pretty good. I used to wear MAC and Lancome lipsticks in brownish shades BC (Before Children).

Personality type (via myersbriggs)
According to Human MetricsYour Type is ESFJ

Extroverted Sensing Feeling Judging

Strength of the preferences %
56 25 75 33
ESFJ type description by D.KeirseyESFJ type description by J. Butt
Qualitative analysis of your type formula You are:
moderately expressed extrovert
moderately expressed sensing personality
distinctively expressed feeling personality
moderately expressed judging personality

Greatest strengths and weaknesses
Greatest strength: I bring people together.

Greatest weakness: I have a short fuse.

Names of the trees in your yard?
We have a ton of trees. We have pine trees in the back yard and a couple of maples. Our township planted cherry trees in everyone's front yards about 40 years ago. No one can cut them down or trim them without township approval. It should be beautiful this spring.

Mother-in-law's favorite flower?
I have no idea. However, I know her favorite cake is pineapple upside down cake. Does that count for something?

Three people you will tag:

I will tag Stephanie, June and Kara.


I am going to work a lot harder after this weekend to write more. Hopefully there will be much to write as I will have returned from my surprise trip for Herr. We leave tomorrow. He doesn't know. Shhhhh!

Not Part Of My Plan

I was raised in a very strict home, with very set rules and not much gray area. There wasn't much in the way of spontaneity going on in our household. My father was ill much of the time, so my mother was left to care for all of us. Mom kept a pretty short leash when it came to meals, bedtimes, homework, and how much television was watched. My sister and I were given a lot of chores and I usually had to redo them because my mother didn't feel that I had performed to the best of my ability.

My mother was also a planner. She had limited financial resources so she had to plan the household budget to the dime to insure that she wouldn't have to make Dad stand in line for government cheese. She did everything she could to make sure that we never went on Food Stamps or Welfare. She probably could have saved herself a lot of stress and anxiety had she just gone on Welfare, but her Polish pride wouldn't allow it.

My mother was also a planner when it came to the "what ifs" in life. My sister and I were trained at an early age what to do and who to call should Dad have a heart attack when she wasn't home. She taught us what to do if we were bitten by a snake or a dog, or stung by a bee. She knew what to do when our dog was mauled by Poncho, the neighbor's German Shepherd. She knew what to do when a family had a horrible car accident on the Indiana Toll Road, which was in our back yard. Three of the family members ended up dying, but she was the first one climbing the embankment to the accident scene with a first aid kit, blankets and a fire extinguisher--all at the ready--and she had called the police (we didn't have 911 yet.)

While I was in college, I rebelled against the whole, "having a plan" for every little thing in life. I enjoyed living a spontaneous lifestyle of skipping classes and going to the quarries , kissing boys in bars or maxing out my credit cards to have cool shoes. When I was 19, I even ran around Paris for two weeks with a boy named Jesus (pronouced Swee-sous as he was from Catalan.) My cousin Abe, who was 16 and a New York City native (meaning worldy and wise) was beyond livid that his Hoosier hayseed of a cousin was running around the streets of Paris at night with a complete stranger who lived in our hotel. Especially since I was in Paris to be his babysitter of sorts.

After college, Corey and I set off to St. Louis to start our new life together. I spent the 18 months we were there bartending, interviewing for "real jobs" and struggling to pay my student loans. It was there that I started to panic about not having a real plan as to how I was supposed to live my life. When we moved to Maryland and I started to work "real jobs," I gradually lost most of my spontaneity and became a planner. I didn't really become aware of it until a few months before Ella was born. I am now the type of person who doesn't really like surprises (to be fair, a surprise diamond ring would be super.)

Now that I am older, my reactionary and planning abilities sometimes go into overdrive. For example, I knew how to react when one of my elderly employees was having a stroke at her desk a couple of years ago. I have had an emergency plan set up in the three states I have resided since 2001 for the day I will need to drop everything and get to my mother in Indiana. I have State Farm's phone number in my cell phone in case of an accident. And while I DIDN'T react so well when Genna fell down an entire flight of stairs in February, I learned from it and know what to do should something like that happen again.

I find myself planning for things long before I need to. Occasionally, it serves me well. Right now I have the Christmas shopping completed for three of my nephews, and I know what I am getting the other two, plus my girls--it's already planned into next month's budget. I have started holiday baking. I have been planning a surprise trip for my husband for our anniversary (don't tell him!) I gave the daycare two changes of clothes for Genna, even though they only want one. Sure, I know they rolled their eyes at me when I gave them the extra clothes, but they came in handy when Genna crapped through two changes of clothes on Friday! Instead of asking the neighbors about the best doctors, preschools and dry cleaners when we moved here, I asked them for names of attorneys so that I could change our wills and custodial paperwork from Ohio to Pennsylvania.

Sometimes, my planning is absurd. For example, I became convinced that I would die in my sleep while Corey was away interviewing this past spring. As a result, I would drill it every night in Ella's head that if she came into my room the next morning and I didn't wake up, that she should walk next door and tell the neighbors. I knew I needed to tone it down when, on the third night, Ella asked me tearfully why I might not wake up. While I certainly didn't want to scare my daughter, I have learned that people's lives can change in an instant. I want to be prepared. And if I can't be prepared, I want my girls to be--even if they are 3 years old.

When it comes to my everyday life, I usually have everything mapped out with contingency plans. Because my girls seem to thrive on a schedule, I know better than to venture out of the house after lunchtime when they need to be winding down for naps. Therefore, we run errands in the mornings. If something threatens the all-important nap time, I have been known to wake the kids up a little early in the morning to guarantee that they will nap earlier. I don't even THINK about leaving the house without an ample supply of diapers and wipes for Genna and an extra pair of underwear for Ella. I always have granola bars, pretzels and goldfish in my purse so that I can guarantee good behavior in stores from the girls. I constantly work on the girls' manners so that they will be polite in public. And while I am probably asking for trouble when I throw food at them to keep them quiet in the car or stores, it's working for now. Genna is happy and Ella is happy. I know that when I go into a store, Genna will stuff her face and Ella will wave and say hello to every.single.person who passes by. That's how it is. That's the plan.

So when we were at Lowe's this morning in the electrical aisle I didn't have a plan of attack to handle Ella when she pointed at the cross-eyed lady walking toward us and shouted, "LOOK AT THE FUNNY LADY,MOMMY!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! She's funny! Mommy, did you see her? Did you? Genna, did you see the funny lady? She had squiggly hair like Gramma and crazy eyes!" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"


I am now trying to tailor my diversity training materials for a preschooler.

Hausfrau Observation

It is probably not going to be the very best of days when one's 20 month old daughter has to take a nap at 7:30AM as opposed to her typical 1:30PM nap.

It's just a hunch.

I Guess It's Time To Tell Her

Corey and I were settling down with the girls tonight before their respective bedtimes. Every night, the four of us meet up in our bedroom to cuddle, read books, sing songs or just catch up on the day. Tonight, Corey decided to quiz Ella on Santa.

"Hey Ella, what does Santa do?"

"Um, he eats all of our cookies."

"Oh. Does he do anything else?"

"Welllllll, he REALLY likes faniches (sandwiches)."

"I see. When is he coming?"

"On Tuesday."

"Really? Why is he coming?"

"He's coming on Friday to visit."

"But you just said he was coming on Tuesday."

"He is--AND he is coming on Friday. But sometimes he comes on Wednesdays."

On and on it went. In true Ella form, it turned out to be a very amusing conversation. After we tucked her in, I thought about the fact that we probably should tell her the truth about Santa. The thing is, I really don't want to.

Last year, I had Ella put a plate of cookies out for Santa, but I neglected to tell her the real reason for the action. At the time, I told her that Santa was coming to visit in the middle of the night because it was Baby Jesus' birthday. I didn't tell her about the sleigh, the reindeer, the elves or the presents. Ella didn't question anything because she hadn't had any real exposure to Santa. She wasn't in daycare last year, so she wasn't around other, more worldy kids. She had never had the pleasure of waiting two hours in line with 30 other miserable and screaming children to sit on the lap of a gamey and only possibly sober Santa Clause for a momentous photo opportunity. We had a wonderful Christmas.

A big part of me doesn't want to change this arrangement. I don't want my girls to be materialistic and spoiled. I am not particularly religious, but I also don't want my girls to get caught up in the commercialism of Christmas. Maybe I am being way too uptight about a jolly man with a white beard and a red snow suit. Maybe I'm being lazy. After all, acknowledging Santa means work for me to keep his story alive.

Maybe I don't want Ella to be disappointed when she finds out the truth. I found out that there was no Santa when I was 7. Jody Heiden, one of the older kids on the bus, told me the truth. As a matter of fact, I could write a book about what I learned on the bus, but I digress. At any rate, whenI found out that Santa was bogus, I was in shock. I was also pissed because my mother had just made me rewrite my letter to Santa because, according to her, he had poor vision and probably wouldn't be able to read what I had written. So I did what any self-respecting 7 year old would do. I told my 9 year old sister who was still a believer. I felt tremendous satisfaction from being able to tell my know-it-all sister something that she didn't know. Unfortunately, my mother was so pissed that I told my sister, that I got no gifts from Santa, and my sister still got hers. At the time I was truly devastated because I had been secretly holding out hope that Jody was wrong and that Santa was real. When I didn't get any presents from him, I really thought he was punishing me for not believing.

At this point, I know we have to tell Ella about Santa. She is probably the only kid in her class in school who doesn't know what Santa is all about. And while I am sure there is absolutely no harm in telling her about him, a part of me feels a little sad.

God, it's not even Halloween yet.

It's Pajama Party Tuesday!

Here at Casa de Hausfrau, I have decided that we are not going to get out of our pajamas today. Yes, it will be 80 degrees and beautiful and yes, I have errands to run. And yes, it's a Tuesday. But I am throwing caution to the wind and allowing the girls to vegetate with me. It seems as though we have been running at a breakneck speed since we moved here and I just want to slow down a bit.

Work has been going well and the kids are enjoying daycare. Well, Baby Girl is enjoying daycare. Peaches is tolerating it. Things are plugging along with the house. Contractors are coming on Thursday to pour a new patio. Now the projects we have to do are the boring ones--new closet doors, crown molding, new bedroom doors, new heaters.

I have been trying to plan a surprise weekend away with Herr for November. It has been a really rough summer and we need some time alone. My MIL has graciously agreed to come out and care for the girls. The only problem is that I can't seem to get a flight to anywhere warm and Caribbean that is affordable or having a return flight on a Sunday at 5AM. I didn't want to go somewhere cold, but at this point, I might. Anyone have any suggestions?

Kitty and Chet Dreyer

Kitty Dreyer was a woman from my hometown in Indiana who died on Monday at the age of 90. She was a sweet lady who had been married to an equally sweet man named Chet for close to 70 years. Together they had four children and lived a comfortable life in LaPorte. Most people are lucky to have that good of a life. When their kids got a little older they decided to become foster parents.

Most of the babies were in their home short term, waiting for adoptions to be approved. Many of the children stayed a few days or a few weeks. Some stayed longer. Over the years, Kitty and Chet took care of more than 1,000 babies. That's not a typo--1,ooo babies. Can you believe it? I cannot imagine the amount of love that they had in their hearts to give to all of those babies.

My sister lived with the Dreyers for three days back in 1967 until my parents adopted her. I came to live with the Dreyers in 1969 when I was 10 days old and lived with them for 10 months. While I was never given a reason as to why I was in foster care for so long, I do know that the Dreyers became attached to me and tried to adopt me. The Welfare Department wouldn't allow the adoption to take place because of their age. A few months after they were turned down, they were notified that I was being adopted.

I was so lucky to have known them while I was growing up. My parents asked Kitty and Chet to be my godparents, which they graciously agreed to do. To me, they were like an extra set of grandparents that I would occasionally visit. I thought it was so cool to have these "extra" relatives. It wasn't until I was older that I found out that I was the last child they had in their home. Kitty once told me that I broke their hearts when they weren't able to adopt me, so they stopped being foster parents.

Chet passed away last October. My mother went to the funeral on my behalf and found out that Kitty was very ill and couldn't attend her husband's funeral. When my mother approached one of their daughters to give her condolences, the daughter said, "Oh My God--you're Christine's mom." It took awhile for my mom to remember that Kitty had named me Christine. I guess it makes sense that I be named SOMETHING if I am in someone's home for 10 months. I always wondered why my parents didn't just keep that name when they got me--I'd certainly had it awhile.

Kitty and Chet leave behind an incredible legacy. I don't know any other couple who had so much love to give to so many children. Their kindness and warmth made 1,000 babies feel loved and safe while they waited for their new families to love them. Thank you Kitty and Chet.

Hausfrau Update

Things here are Casa de Hausfrau have been quite busy since we moved here. I have gone back to work 3 days a week, which has been good. I am working out of an office in central New Jersey and currently have a brutal commute, but it is short term until my boss thinks of another project for me to do. It has felt good to go to work and think about things other than locating Baby Girl's long-lost dolly and reading "Hand, Hand, Fingers Thumb" for the 87th frickin time.

Herr was in San Francisco all last week for some sort of conference which pretty much sucked for me as we are in a new town with no baby sitters. I was so desperate that I hired the 14 year old girl across the street for an hour to baby sit so that I could run errands. It worked out well, but I am hoping to find some older girls to babysit in the future.

The highlight of my week was a visit from my friend Laura, who lives in Seattle. She is a women's apparel buyer, so she makes several trips to New York every year. When we lived in New Jersey, we were lucky to see her so often. Even though we are a little further away, we are psyched that we'll be able to see her again so frequently.

Our free time is spent unpacking crap, putting away crap and throwing crap away. We are struggling to find a place for all of our stuff, particularly the stuff that belongs in storage. We had a huge basement for storage in Cincinnati. The new basement has a fairly small space for storage, so we are currently trying to fit 10 lbs. of shit in a 5 lb. sack. When we aren't trying to figure out where something should go, we are slowly putting up curtains and pictures. The house is becoming more of a home everyday and the girls love their bedrooms and their playroom, so things are looking up.

Peaches is becoming quite the terror. We have a new name for her, "Destructo-Girl." Her uniform consists of wearing underwear around her neck (we REALLY need to get the closet doors installed in the bedrooms!) When she is not having ear-splitting temper tantrums, she runs around the house throwing things on the floor and chewing the sliding glass door (it's true). She is happiest when she is running through the house, pulling down anything in her reach. We are trying to be really dilligent by keeping anything of value out of her way. It became apparent this morningthat my efforts were pretty weak when I witnessed her stirring my coffee with our PHONE.

Baby Girl is being a typical teenager, fighting with me over clothes to wear at school and wanting to spend all of her free time with her friends. Wait, she's 3 1/2--WTF?!?! I cannot believe we have such a girlie girl who will actually scream and cry if she feels we are putting together an ensemble for her that "doesn't make me beautiful!" What is so funny is that she is having trouble understanding that coordinating colors DO match, while differing patterns of the same colors don't necessarily match. It makes for some interesting clothing choices.

And The Conversations Keep Getting More Weird

The girls and I were on our way this morning to the zoo. While in the car, I turned on the car and was psyched to hear In Between Days by the Cure.

"Hey Baby Girl, this song was one of Mommy's and Daddy's favorite songs when we were younger."


"When you were babies?" Baby Girl asked as she danced in her booster seat.


"Um, no. We didn't know each other when we were babies. We liked this song when we were older."


"Were you getting married when you liked this song?"


"What do you know about getting married?" I asked, surprised to hear her use this term.


"Weeeellllll, when you were a princess and Daddy was a King, did you get married?"


"Yeah, I guess."


"Ohh. Well, maybe when I get bigger and am a grown-up princess and Peaches becomes a King, we will get married."


"Um, I don't think so sweetie. You aren't going to want to marry your sister. Someday you will meet someone you love and maybe you'll get married."


"Awww. Wait, I KNOW...I'll marry Eli!!!"


"Um, sorry Honey. You can't marry your cousin either."


"Awww pickles, Mom," she said with a scowl and her arms folded in front of her. "I wanna marry Eli."


"Uhhh--hey lookie, Baby Girl--we're at the zoo!"


"Are we going to see camels? Are they married?"