This Was Just What I Needed

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

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!

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

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

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

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

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!

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 making snowballs.

Some Truly Shit-Tastic Parenting Happened Today

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

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

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

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

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

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!

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

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.

The Birds and the Bees

After working out Saturday evening, I was in my room getting ready to take a shower. Ella came in to visit (she had been tucked into bed for awhile, but decided to see me when I had come back.) I didn't mind until she started to ask me all kinds of questions.

"Hey Mommy, why is your belly all sqwobbly?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's all kinda big and SQWOBBLY."

"Oh, that's because I gave birth to you and Genna."

"Huh?"

"You two were in my belly before you were born." There wasn't much point in explaining that, in addition to giving birth twice, my belly had also become enlarged from about 10 years of carbs and beer. She wouldn't understand.

"Ohhhhh. I forgot I used to be a baby in your belly. Was I dirty when I was born?"

"A little, but the nurses cleaned you up and Daddy got to hold you and then I held you. You were nice and clean then."

"What about Genna? I'll bet she was REALLY dirty."

"She was, but the nurses cleaned her up too."

By this point, I could just see the wheels moving in her head.

"When can I have a baby in my belly?"

"Not for awhile. You have to be a grown-up for that."

"Oh. Maybe Genna could go into my belly and be my baby."

"Honey, she is going to be way too big to be your baby. Besides, she's your sister."

"What about Ava? She could go into my belly and be my baby."

"Honey, Ava is going to be too big as well. She's 6 months younger than Genna. Besides, you have a long time to worry about having a baby."

"But MOMMY--WHERE am I going to FIND a baby to be in my belly?!?!?!"

It Came out of Nowhere

Ella was talking about her day at school yesterday. I'll be honest--she is quite verbose, so it can take quite awhile to get to the meat of her stories. I have been known to drift off into space for vast stretches of time until she pulls on my arm and tells me to pay attention. At any rate, she was babbling on about her day when she suddenly said, "And I fell on my tookas at school, but I'm OK."

"What did you just say?"

"I fell on my tookas, Mommy."

"Who taught you that word, Ella?"

"Miss Aimee at school."

And that is when I started to cry. You see, my dad used to say the word "tookas" instead of "butt" when I was a kid. While I was mortified to hear him say it in front of my friends, I would give anything to hear him say it now. I can't believe a silly word reminded me of how much I have missed my dad since he died six years ago. He would have been thrilled to hear Ella say it.

God, I miss him.