We need to talk,

In regards to my Will-power.
This weekend, while trying on jeans, it was time to get real. After three weeks, jeans are not tight because: the dryer shrank them, you are bloated, your skin may be puffy from too much water or elves moved the buttons.
We cannot wear yoga pants every day. God knows we try.
After three weeks, we have to admit, we've put on a few pounds.
Now, Will-power. It is not all our fault.
Halloween candy.
Who knew, half a dozen bags of candy would really stick? They should warn people. Maybe in a magazine article. At least, on morning television.
Our Family Birthday season.
Again, not our fault. It is impolite to attend parties and NOT eat cake. Impolite and sacrilegious. We tried to make it low fat by only eating the frosting, but after 3 pieces, our logic is waining.
I couldn't live with the stigma, of being the aunt that disappointed her niece, by only eating one piece. How would she live with that rejection? Not on my conscience.
Then, we got a tiny bit out of control.
The remodeling.
We just HAD to order pizza (4 times). Plus pick up DQ and McDonald's. I mean, for bleep's sake...you can't cook a decent meal, with your back master bathroom torn up! Duh.
But...now look at me, Will-power...when you saw me eating the Lay's chips out of the bag, you should have spoke up. You and Self Control, really dropped the ball. It's not like it was a Snickers! I am barely a chip eater.
Ok, I know, I ordered pizza again tonight.
But I didn't eat the crust. That has to count for something.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow, we are done playing.
We are one holiday cookie season away from an Intervention episode.
Here's the deal:
Dark chocolate, is not really healthy, if you eat two full bars.
Halloween candy does not have a 'Get out of Jail Free' card on weight gain.
Thanksgiving, either.
Shocking, but true.
Ease back on the pizza. Just because you order from 5 different locations, so the phone girl does not recognize your voice, does not excuse the excess.
Birthday season is done. Calm your frosting shakes.
You cannot claim, PMS snacking, two weeks prior and one week after.
Chips out of the bag. Never sanitary. Never a good idea.
Put down the Capn Christmas Crunchberries. I don't care if the colors are festive.
Nightly, hot cocoa is not necessary, when it is 55 degrees outside, you haven't shoveled snow and you are not in grade school.
Even if they claim Chicken Nuggets are made with white meat. It is not low fat to order the ten piece, with a Diet Coke. Though, it seems like it should be.
Now, the weekly Butterfinger Blizzard.
Unless, we are starting me on Zanax, that is a necessary evil.
Alright, Will-power and Self-Control.
Let's do this.
If tomorrow gets too hard...I swear, we are really starting, on Wednesday.
Next week, we need to think about crawling back on the Treadmill.
But let's baby step it...

Ten things I've learned, in the last 24 hours.

(acknowledgement, phrase 'Patten'ed by Munchkin.)
1. When you repeat, "I am bored" to your husband, 4 times on a Saturday evening, and he answers, "Why don't you go out?" Listen to him, he is wise.
2. It is good, to have a Grammy on-call.
3. Standing around a tall table with a bucket and 5 funny grown-ups, can do wonders for your sanity.
4. It is priceless to have several friends, that know plumbing.
5. It is less special for them, to know us, and our 52 year old rusty pipes.
6. Eating Lay's Sour Cream potato chips from the bag, as an appetizer to your pasta dinner, is never a good idea. But sometimes, it needs to be done.
7. When they tell you not to boil water in the microwave, or it may explode. They are not kidding.
8. Having your baby daughter nap for 2 hours, is as magical, as you dreamt it could be.
9. Looking at a nearly finished, remodeled bathroom...can be one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen. New linoleum, is pretty.
10. Sunday, pasta on the menu, Bears on the TV (even with the expected loss), house kinda-sorta clean, family lounging in comfy clothes...is almost a perfect evening.

Hey, let's relax and rent a couple videos.

I have a bone to pick with Hollywood producer types.
I've had my fill with the 'realistic, life sucks', movies.
ie.

'My Sister's Keeper'
Here's a fun ditty for a mother of daughters. Throw in an older, ignored son. A dash of life threatening illness, strain on the marriage and side of gut wrenching sadness. Nothing like, staying up late at night pondering a little 'What if Sophie's Choice was forced upon me'.
Good times.

Next, lighten things up with a children's movie,
'Up'.
Standard, the mother dies in every children's movie. Why would Disney want to portray a mother, actually living, to raise her children.
Let's spice this movie up, by adding a new twist.
Fun loving, little girl, grows up with HUGE dreams of adventure and travel.
She marries, moves into her dream house.
Set aside her 'Adventure Book' to have a baby, only to find out she is unable to have a child.
explanations of infertility ensue.
To pull herself from a deep depression, she chooses to live out her adventures.
Wait a sec... the roof needs to be fixed, the tires blow, the windows break in her money pit. Her 'Adventure Jar' is emptied to pay for mundane life.
Until finally, the mother dies.
Without becoming a mother, or living a single adventure.
They try to convince you, that just being the husband's (hypothetically, Coach's) wife was all the adventure she needed.
Right.
Great lesson, for daughters to learn.
If they were raised in 1952.
After she is gone, the husband/Coach, lives her adventures, without her.

Used to be, movies transformed you from your real, crappy life to a place of magic and fun.
Little Mermaid: Fish, then woman, kill the octopus with a stack, become a princess, move to castle.
Cinderella: Maid, fairy godmother, a ball, prince rescues her, castle.
Even Pretty Woman has more magic. Prostitute finds rich man.

I'd prefer to trick my girls into believing there is a chance at a castle, rather than infertility, in a money pit.
I miss false hope and unrealistic fantasies.
Just sayin.

3 reasons to give thanks.

Several times in the last 6 months, we have thought:
Three?
It's too many.
We are out numbered, out witted, out maneuvered.
I can't do this.
I am in over my head.
Really, three?

Question:
What am I most thankful for?

Answer:
Easy.
Our three beautiful children.


Happy Thanksgiving.

Why the F...fast food edition

In honor of The Greatest Week of Calories. Let us celebrate, Fast food.
(The following are the opinions, suggestions and thoughts of the author (and a few friends). My ideas are not meant to influence or sway you.)

Why the F...

..does McD's need two drive thru lanes? They lead to the same window, of the same restaurant, with the same girl taking orders and filling drinks. Why confuse us with the two lines? I have enough pressure choosing a check-out line at Wal-Mart.
..is ordering food at Jimmy John's so scary? What will happen, if I order without mayo? Can those Soup Nazi's really ban me from all JJ's?? Though, I concede, you are fast enough to make me freak.
..does Papa John's always sound like a better idea than it really is? Unless, you order at 1:00am. Then it is ALWAYS brilliant.
..is 4th meal not catching on? Not for Taco Bell, but in life? We still have a little more give, before National Obesity is really a crisis.
..does receiving cold fries, feel like the greatest sin ever committed against me? And yet, I will continue to eat them, while driving away, though the disappointment may linger for hours.
..would you ever order a single cheeseburger, when the double is on sale for nearly the same price?
..can face cream not duplicate the ingredients found in McD's fries? When I find week old fries on the floor, they are the exact same consistency and color, as the moment they were ordered. How does that happen?
..has the blizzard not been nominated for Saint hood? Can we get on that, please? When times are tough, I always turn to a blizzard to lift me higher. She has never let me down.
..has Wendys not closed? Does anyone actually eat there?
..do we need to take out a loan, against our home to eat at Arby's? Curly fries, give back some love to the little people!
..is there that moment with Steak n Shake fries, where you think...do I eat these with a fork (unnatural) or with my hands (though they are too tiny to properly grab and dip). I prefer not to think, while eating.
..are Subway's chocolate chip cookies so amazing? Mrs. Field's, give that sandwich shop a call.
..is the morning after, Dr. Pepper and BEC meal, not listed on Web MD as a cure all?
..do we need to combine chains? How do Long John Silver's and Taco Bell blend together? What if a teenager got confused during prep. It could be catastrophic.
..do these places not deliver to my home? I am really exhausting too much energy, picking up my 1200 calorie meal. Wouldn't want my heart to actually work before I clogged it up.

The Kid's 8th Birthday aka National Dork Day

In my lifetime, I have not spent much quality time with nerds. Sure, intelligent people, artistic, clever and witty...but honest to gosh, nerds. Not so much.
Until, yesterday.
I cannot say the experience was pleasantly enlightening.

For The Kid's birthday surprise, we took him and Six to the Chicago Planetarium. At the last minute, we threw Tink in the mix. I had an inkling, the boys may ignore us. Frankly, Tink could use some culture, off her couch.
I had purchased, each boy, Universe coffee table books, which they opened, prior to leaving town. First painful, indication of our day. Driving to Chicago, we heard, "Isn't the Universe interesting? We could learn about space for hours. Did you know the star --- was a gas ball of ...etc"
While I love many, a lame subject (history, geography, travel) space is not one of them. If I have not absorbed it from Star Wars...not info my brain needs to retain.

We were greeted with a beautiful and shockingly out of character, Chicago day. While we waited 40 minutes for Coach to locate a parking spot, we began with the gift shop. A rare move. What could I possibly threaten their behavior with? However, this proved genius.
The boys purchased matching notepads (dubbed, Space Journals) and pens.

These Space Journals, were the thorn in our sides, or protectors in their pockets. They 'documented' every station. Mind you, in a Space Museum, there are plenty of nerds. Ours, managed to stick out like a dorky, dislocated thumb.

Weigh in for a space walk. Tink, 4 pounds, moon weight.

After watching the boys, barely lift off, Coach joined in. If he was 'just a little bit taller, and lived on the moon' we would be rolling in mad NBA money.


The boys were chosen by Nasa to fly on a top secret mission. (Thumbs up, their idea.) Trust me, we would not have influenced them to be more weird.

We proceded to the 'big draw' of the Planetarium. The show. I meant to purchase the Cosmic Collisions, show. Instead, I bought the 35 minute package on the origins of Star Constellations. (naptime). We could barely keep our eyes open, Tink followed the red pointer light (like a puppy) and the boys? Those dorks ate it up. Just read their notebooks for a recap.

Later, we goofed around by the Lake side. It was so beautiful. Normally, on November 22nd, you may encounter snow. At the very least, face shredding Chicago wind.


Not, to worry, as they roll down the hill, their space books are safe with me.
I have vivid memories of my own childhood hill rolling. I am pretty sure, my mom was not asked, to hold my dorky space book.
We ended our trip, by touching Soldier Field.
Six, remarked that he hoped the Bears QB, Brian Urlacher, won the game.
Not a QB, not even playing, not all season.

While the photos end here, which I regret, our trip moved to Ikea.
Mom needed some new pretties for the bathroom.
And a new ironing board,
and I guess, new frames,
and new painted sticks...for something...
While I was being sucked into the wonder of Ikea. The dorks, discovered the company is European. Awesome.
They then, found the Scandanavian food section.
Six, exclaimed, as he feverishly wrote in this space journal, (yes, journal made the trip into Ikea), "I don't think I have room in the journal to write how awesome this place is! This is the best day of my life!".
Hey boys, we could have just spent the day in Ikea, if I had known that.
Tink agreed, "I not go home. I libe in dis building"
Me too, Tink. Me too.
We finshed the evening with Godparents and Grandparents, for dinner at Grammy's.
The Kid will work on Thank you cards this evening, to improve his gratefulness.
Overall, National Dork Day, a success.
Except, now he really is eight...

Ouch, this hurts.

I quit.
I can't type this.
I am shutting down the blog.
My hands are shaking.
My throat is tight.
Something is squeezing my heart.
My face feels hot and the tears are spilling.
Eight.
8.
EIGHT.
Seven years ago, I took that picture. My first baby was about to turn One. He was chubby, days away from walking, just had tubes put in his ears and I could NOT believe he was nearly One.
How naive.
I can remember the exact moment, I fell in love with The Kid. Of course, I loved being pregnant with him or even before I was pregnant. Everything went smoothly, including labor and delivery.
Did not love the enormous weight gain, you live, you learn.
My water broke very late, the night before Thanksgiving. Four hours later, there he was. My holiday baby. Later that day, everyone ran home to rest or change. I was tucked in bed, alone, with my new baby.
My boy.
I could not stop soaking him in. I had that feeling. I could squeeze him so hard, I could smush our souls together. At that moment, my life changed. I told him he was mine (I would reluctantly share with a few people) but he was mine, to keep. My heart took him in, promised to hold him tightly there, just for me.

Funny thing about babies. Even if you own them, they insist on growing. The Kid was so loving, outgoing and sweet from the start. He trusted people, he loved and he wanted to be loved. He took more and more people into our bubble.

He was smart. I knew that. Later, I realized, he is brilliant. He always loved to learn. He was a sponge and soaked in knowledge. We spent hours outside learning every bug, flower and tree. Grammy, Pop pop and I took endless walks around the yards. He became obsessed with planes, trains and automobiles.

His memory was and is astonishing. He can recall tiny details, directions and faces. He enveloped himself in small town life, and has perfected the 'friendly, neighbor wave'. Thankfully, because his mother, has not.

And still he kept growing. He had the nerve to turn Five. I thought maybe we could pause at Five. His first day of Kindergarten, I cried to the point of sobbing. I called Grammy and told her, "He did it, he went to school. Soon he'll be in College". That may seem like an exaggeration, and yet...

he turned six, and then seven. He just kept having birthdays! With each number, he got taller, stronger, more defiant, more intelligent. And slowly....he is not quite mine, anymore. With two little sisters, my heart had to make some room. I've had to answer "Just a minute", one too many times. He has to get his snack, while I change a diaper or tame a Tink. He got a few less hugs, less snuggles on the couch, less walks around the yard.

All the while. He kept on growing. And this weekend, he turns eight. EIGHT. My boy. It happened so fast. I still want him to be mine, and yet he is not. I am no longer his lunch date, or afternoon nap buddy. I do not see him from 8:00am-3:00pm. When I pick him up, he whispers with his friend in the back seat. When we arrive home, he rushes out to play. He still has so many bleepin questions, with the ability to find the answer himself. I can feel, that we are rounding a corner, onto a road, he will ride without me.
I want to hold onto the back of the bike, for a little longer.

I wish you a happy birthday, my son. I am so proud. You are more intelligent, more handsome, than I imagined. You are funny, loving and when no one is looking...an excellent big brother.
Please, continue to read, watch that temper and always love to learn. Keep your desire to travel, your ability to recall the names of those you have just met and your sense of wonder.
Please, keep loving your parents and grandparents. It is a crime that my most loving child, is getting the least of my attention. Continue to learn your faith, to make friends and always love your vegetables.
I will try my best, to hug you even more. To tell Tink to wait, while I tend to you and to plan more Mom/Son dates in the future.
I am painfully aware, I may not have many more ahead of me.
If you ask, I will still rub your ear pillows (his 3 year old word for ear lobes).
To me, you will always be mine.
Even after I.... stop being yours.

Her name was Coco, and she was my girl. With Yellow Feathers in her hair...

Glancing over at the 'Labels' column, it is easy to see, Coco is not feeling any blog lovin. When you follow, A Kid and A Tink, it is difficult to be the most clever in the room. On her Half Birthday, she deserves some love.
Note: This will be the only time I celebrate a Half Birthday. This is no feel good Kindergarten class, where you get a sticker for blowing your nose.

Months 2-5 are always the most boring for me. While 'I Heart You Like Crazy', this Act in our Life Play, requires a little more jazz hands to work me up.
At 6 months, you are becoming yourself.
I am happy to meet you.

You are sitting up.
In addition to nursing, you are eating food THREE times a day. With every bite, you make the weirdest, honking noise from somewhere inside your head.
Thanks to the THREE above...you are pretty, um, solid. Dad pretends he is the hippo off Madagascar and sings, "You're chunky, you're hefty".
Don't worry, I will nip this in the bud, to prevent an inevitable eating disorder.
You adore your siblings. Tink loves you, when nothing good is on TV. The Kid claims you are his favorite sister. Him and Tink, have a Love/Hate thing.
Please be the sweet, marshmallow glue that holds them together....

...because, really, YOU ARE SO SWEET.
After the drought of love coming off your sister, we were thirsty for your affection. Especially, Daddy. We cannot get enough of your kisses.
Last night, while you were sleeping, your Snow White lips were so beautiful and red. Dad and I nearly ate them.
Please, for all that is good...TAKE A NAP.
Sadly, you have terrible dry skin.
I slather you in Vitamin E and then wrap you in fleece jammies.
Thanks to your skin, you love everything soft and fuzzy. Prepare for a Christmas with fluffy blankets.
Your hair is FINALLY growing and coming in dark.
Only one little blondie for this family.
Well, there is Dad, but how much longer can he actually lay claim to a hair color?

You can roll across the room.
The Angel Kisses, you were born with, are fading. I am secretly convinced they were from my Grandma Andy. I know, she was watching over us during that AWFUL pregnancy. She held you safely, until you arrived, with her irises.
You look great in bright colors.
You fit perfect in the snuggle of Dad's arm pit.
And, I just love you.
So much.

Who needs a man?

While Coach was at work, I did the mudding, on the new drywall portion of our bathroom project. I'm sure you assume, that means I filled in a few nail holes. Oh no, I'm talking, drywall tape, nails, cuts and corners. No joke.

If you come over sometime, are in the bathroom and think I did a good job.
Thanks!

If you come over, are in the bathroom and think it looks like crap.
What the heck are you doing in my bathroom anyway? Get the bleep out, creepo! And no one asked your opinion. I was home alone, with three kids. It's not like I'm sclupting David or anything.

The basic difference between a man mudding and a woman? Not one, single splatter of mud flopped onto the floor or my clothing. We don't slop it up, while thinking "I'll clean the mess up later."
We don't have time to clean that mess up later.

Also, big thanks to the step stool, I made in 7th grade shop class. Until now, you have sat around and never served a purpose.
Thanks for finally earning your keep.

How do I sleep at night?

I have mentioned, The Kid is enrolled in CCD classes. He will have his First Reconciliation (First Confession) in two weeks with Father. His First Communion will follow this Spring. I have also mentioned, I was not raised Catholic.
Last night, The Kid lost his cool and spoke very disrespectful.
I lectured, it is never ok to speak that way to your parents.
He was unimpressed.
Time for me to pull out the big guns.
For punishment, The Kid had to: Write out all Ten Commandments twice, write out the entire Act of Contrition twice, apologize and then call his CCD director (his Grandma) to discuss "Honor Thy Mother and Father".
If he was embarrassed to confess to Father the comments he made to me, he should not make them in the first place.

By Golly...I think I am really getting the hang of this whole Catholic thing.
God will smite thee?
Confessing your sins to thy Father?
Writing your prayers until your fingers ache?
Check, Check and Check.

And yes, Thank you for asking.
I do sleep well, wrapped up nice and tight in my hypocrisy.
My head does lay comfortably on my abuse of power.
Yada, yada.

Man Work

Check off, one of my "Bucket List". No, not Europe or Ireland. Something a little less glamorous but equally as awesome. Our Master Bathroom!!
This weekend, a whole lot of Big Man Stuff, has been taking place. There is more Busch Lite in the fridge, than water or milk. Coach has worn one ugly sweatshirt after another. Three TV's and one computer were kept running at all times to update fantasy football. Ditta discovered our nest of alien/millipede/mutant spiders in the crawl space area. He did not actually enter the crawl space, due to a phobia, professionally labeled "Thatcrawlspaceisnastyaphobia".
I totally understand.

One volunteer was injured. After ANOTHER visit to our On Call Doctor, our friend suffered 7 stitches.
I questioned, how many more injuries need to happen in this house before the authorities are called...he answered, just a couple more. Counter is ticking.
While the Man Work takes place...the women folk are keeping the kiddies out of the way. Grammy had first shift. I had second.
I dropped, Coco (or the 'good one') off with Doc and Flag girl for her first day of lunch and shopping with her aunts. I took the older kids to a birthday party at Chuck E Cheese. Followed with Children's Place, to pick out their Christmas clothes.
Is it too late to pick the 7 stitches?
It had to be less painful.
(Though, we love the birthday boy!)

I rounded up the troops and drove the hour back home.
Progress has been made and they are back to work this morning.
Rumor has it, I can pick out flooring by tomorrow.
Keep your fingers crossed!

*None of this could have been made possible, without the direction and organization required to take ALL 3 children to Menards on Friday, to pick out the shower and materials. Me...alone...with ALL 3 children...carrying a tape measure...in Menards, for 2 hours. Followed by another hour in Wal-mart. If, I am not going to credit myself with that amazing feat. Who will? Great job, myself. You are a super mom. And, I only had to bribe The Kid with one lava lamp.

A Friday the 13th Scare....not for the faint of heart.

Sometimes, when this pops on our screen saver, my children run in terror from the room. Covering their eyes and screaming something about "Too much armpit!"
I hold them tight, calmly repeating, "everything will be alright, that armpit will never hurt you."
Most of the time, when I see this picture, I just feel happy.
I felt even more happy today.
Just knowing, we only have 3 months, until this man is dressed up again.
February 13th.
It will be here sooner, than you think.

Let's play a little game called....

Who would you jack?

I made this up years ago.

Here are the rules:

1. Pick a person, say, your 4th grade teacher.

2. Premise:
You march right up to this person, stand in front of them and smack. They retain this information for approximately 9 seconds (long enough to react with an expression of recognition but not hit back) and then their mind goes blank, never to be the wiser. You would both go on with life. Said person would be completely unaffected, not even a bruise. You, however, would have a victorious skip in your step and sly smile across your face. All the while, Karma, God and/or your Grandmother, is looking the other way.

3. So... who would you jack?

I realize your first reaction may be:
The horror!
What a terrible person!
Who would make up such an awful game!!?

After you get past all that, and decide not to leave your children with me (which you maybe already decided 2 weeks after I started this blog). Think for a minute or two. Let it soak in.
Is their someone who has harmed you or yours?
Rubbed you wrong?
Walks about, as if they couldn't use a good smacking?
Wears their hair in a way that drives you bananas?
Stole your boyfriend in the 7th grade?

Now, make a list.
In your mind, or share with a VERY close friend, not prone to blabber mouth syndrome.

Who would you jack?
Begin, play...

Disclaimer: I have NEVER and do not plan on EVER punching a person, in my entire life. No reason to find a priest or officer, just yet.
Also, you are not allowed anyone under the age of 17 on your list. Unless you are a parent of a teenager...then do what you need to do.

Deep thoughts from 'The Kid'..birthdays

Yesterday, during Coach's birthday lunch, I reminded (cute word for threatened) The Kid, his birthday was a week away. If he wanted his 'Big Surprise Day' we have planned, he had to make Coach's day special.
The following conversation took place at our lunch locale, the local truck stop.

Me: Behave nicely and try to remember, this is Dad's birthday, next week is your day.
The Kid: What am I doing for my 'Big Surprise'?
(I'm sure, he is judging, how nice he should be)
Me: You will find out, the morning of your birthday.
The Kid: How Big is it? Will I love it?
Me: Yes. It will be one of your best birthdays ever.
The Kid: Are you flying me on a vacation?
Me: Think smaller.
The Kid: I know! Did you hire a famous person to come to my party?
Me (dripping with sarcasm): You guessed it, Mylie Cyrus is coming to our house.
The Kid: No! I know, she's not. Is Taylor Swift?

He is VERY serious. He believes, there is no chance we can hire the Great Mylie, but I may have the power to get Taylor Swift.

Me: No, it costs thousands of dollars to get Taylor Swift to come to your house. Think smaller.
The Kid: Oh.... is it Zack and Cody?
Me: NO! Think, THOUSANDS, of dollars smaller!

Admittedly, obtaining Zack and Cody vs. Taylor Swift is probably, thousands less.

If my parents had told me, I was getting a 'Big Surprise' for my 8th birthday, I would have guessed: Eating at Godfather's, instead of delivery OR if things got really crazy, driving to the ghetto side of town and hitting up the Skating Rink.

Reason #259...my children are spoiled brats.

My husband's birthday

Poor Coach, takes a lot of heat on this blog. For his birthday, I should probably remind people, I actually like him. A few ideas came to mind.

I could list why I love him. (and risk making his siblings puke)
I could list everything great in our lives together: our kids, etc. Boring.
I could thank his parents for what a great man they raised. (again,with the puke)

Really, the reason I fell for him, is very simple and always will be.

Thank you, Coach.
For every single time, you have made me laugh.
You light me up.

Happy Birthday.

"Show me how you do that trick
The one that makes me scream" she said
"The one that makes me laugh," she said
And threw her arms around my neck
"Show me how you do it
And I promise you I promise that
I'll run away with you
I'll run away with you."
Spinning on that dizzy edge
I kissed her face and kissed her head
And dreamed of all the different ways I had
To make her glow
"Why are you so far away?" she said
"Why won't you ever know that I'm in love with you
That I'm in love with you"

I would run away with you.
Really, say the word. I'm ready...


Sharing this day, Happy Birthday to my god-mother.

Turn the phone off.

Do you ever have a day, where you wake up and think.
Not today.
No thanks.
Not interested.
Do not shower.
Do not brush your teeth.
Do not pass go.
Turn the phone off.
Except to call Chinese.
Ask them to deliver to your bedroom window.
Bring 2 Dr. Peppers.
Watch five DVD's.
Maybe six.
Intermittently, nap 3-4 times.
Finish with a glass of wine, to help you fall asleep for the night.

Today, may be one of those days.

Why only spend the entire day in bed when you have the flu?
Why can't you stay in bed all day...
just cuz you have a bed?
There are starving people in Africa, without beds.
Shouldn't we appreciate ours?

Big, big weekend...

This weekend, we are happy to share the 93rd birthday of a phenomenal lady. Mother to some, grandmother to many, great-grandmother to VERY many. Her faith is strong, her love of chocolate admirable, her heart is full and her guts are made of steel. I am honored to have given GG, her 30th great-child, Coco. As honored as all the mothers are, to have given her, the 29 before. Without GG, none of this could have happened, literally.
If I live to 93, I hope to do it with her grace and her tiny waist line.

GG will spend her birthday with her 29th and our Twelve. On this day, we will celebrate Twelve's first birthday and her baptism. Twelve is full of smiles, laughs and sun-light. She is as tiny as Tink but much sweeter. She has beautiful eyes, that look a little like Flag girl and is trying her best to grow blond hair. Her and Coco will be fast friends, they already delight in seeing each other. They will have a wild, wide path to follow in life, with those older sisters.

Twelve will receive two fun, God-parents (I know, I am related to both!). My cousin (Twelve's aunt), and one of Coach's most favorite people, CW. Twelve's laugh is already as contagious as her god-mother's.
Her god-father, Uncle Warhol, is too cool. I am becoming even more impressed with his vast talents over the last 3 weeks! Following the hurtful blow to his ego, of trying to love Tink, Warhol bonded immediately with Twelve's loving spirit.

These are your god-parents, Twelve...soak that in...
They are both full of personality and very creative. From the little, I have already seen...you will fit this trio nicely.
Twelve, while the three of you are standing together for pictures. It may be possible Uncle Warhol, is smiling so widely because he is close to you.
Happy Birthday to both special girls!

Why the F....Mommyhood

Why the F...have I purchased at least 14 pacifiers in the last 6 months and can only find ONE of them.
Why the F...does bath time become a battle of wits, balance, strength and agility, that I am losing every time?
Why the F...did my son rarely throw to First, with the accuracy mustered when he beaned me in the back of the head with a banana, from 3 rooms away... after giving him that, instead of Halloween candy.
Why the F...was Coach barely able to resist yelling, "Great throw!" as I rubbed my head?
Why the F...do my children scream in agony, as if I am applying their lotion with a Brillo pad?
Why the F...was I not raised Catholic and do not feel inclined to convert, and yet 4 weeks before my son's first Reconciliation, I threatened him with confessing such banana-like incidents to Father? Can I say, hypocrite?
Why the F...is Coach not more concerned, that if ONE MORE CHILD asks me for juice, I may run screaming and barefoot from my home, only to be found days later in a ditch, mumbling something about sippy cups?
Why the F...can I not sleep in, just for one hour and leave Tink in charge? What could possibly go wrong?

I accept your challenge.

Following the "Life and Times", I am writing my Bucket List. With 3 children, this will NEVER be completed by my 40th birthday. I will settle for, in my lifetime.
Written here for you: Universe, God, Oprah, Coach...let's see if we can make this happen. Ultimate Christmas list?

1. Stand in the Sistine Chapel, while tears stream down my face.
2. Host a beautiful, candle lit Christmas Eve dinner, with my children, their spouses and my grandchildren.
3. Have a regular Girls Night Out.
4. Listen to Elton John sing 'Your Song', in person.
5. Order a meal, at a cafe in Paris, with near perfect French.
6. Lay on a beach in Jamaica.
7. Eat a Cajun meal, in New Orleans, with Coach, while drinking a cold one.
8. Have my son's wife, tell me I raised a respectful and loving man.
9. Be the first person my daughters call, to say they are pregnant. After they call their husbands, sometime following their 24th birthdays.
10. Take the kids to Disney World.
11. Stand in the Louvre.
12. Finish the back bathroom. (Coach, your list)
13. Celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary in Ireland.
14. Have my flower gardens, the way I imagine!
15. Own my perfect yoga studio.
16. Go to the Oprah show.
17. Witness The Kid score 40 pts, with 10 rebounds, sprinkle in a few assists and one block, so hard core, the echo rings in my ears.
18. Experience a night, as awesome as our 1985 Relay for Life Prom.
19. Teach my girls that a broken heart, will not kill you.
20. Take my family to see mountains. Not that big rock, 20 miles from here.
21. Purchase great outdoor furniture.
22. Spend one day, totally alone, with Coco.
23. Go to The Letterman show.
24. Take the kids to Washington DC.
25. Find the perfect pair of jeans.
26. Years from now, have Coach ask "What we got going on today?" and answer "Nothing." And spend the day with him, doing absolutely, nothing.
27. Find time to draw again.
28. Plant a vegetable garden.
29. Go on a yoga retreat.
30. Have a girls weekend.
31. Purchase expensive bedding, that I melt into.
32. Spend a long weekend in Boston, visit the Green Monster, with 2 other couples.
33. Maintain detailed memory boxes and baby books, for each child.
34. Take the kids to a movie on Christmas night.
35. Buy a great sectional couch for Friday movie/pizza night.
36. Still find Coach funny when he is 75 and hope he thinks the same of me.
37. Teach children, The Beatles are the greatest band in the world, ever.
38. Find the perfect lipstick color.
39. Live a life, that will have people talking about something at my funeral... other tha beinng Coach's wife!
40. Smile more.

Thanks for the challenge, Mrs. I pass it on...

I Heart....Fall.

Fall is my favorite season. As we race into the winter holidays, I should send Fall a shout out. I am lacing my "I Heart" with pictures I took of the kids, on a perfect Fall afternoon.

I Heart...the transition from Shorts to Sweatshirts. Isn't life always better in a sweatshirt?
I Heart...the smell of fireplaces, in the air.
I Heart... the colors. (They have been beautiful this year. When it wasn't raining!)

I Heart...dressing my kids in Halloween T-shirts. (Though, orange and black were my school colors. Sometimes the reminder, gives me the heebie jeebies.)
I Heart...eating 8-10 (or more like 12-14) pieces of Halloween candy a day, for a week straight. Being shocked when I gain two pounds. Washing down that self hatred, with a bag of candy corn, I snagged on Halloween clearance. See you again next year, Lack of Self Control.
Maybe, I don't Heart that.

I Heart...Our Family birthday season. It is crazy. (Asked if the Kid could sign up for Saturday bowling league, I responded, 'No. He is in Saturday, Birthday Party League'). The cake doesn't hurt my mood. May contribute to those 2 pounds. Alright! It was 3, if you are going to harass me, over it!

I Heart...the festivals.
I Heart...football. The actual game, not fantasy. Is that becoming redundant?
I Heart...breaking out the hot cocoa.
I Heart...the new TV shows being back. Nice to see you, my friends. I was bored all summer, loving my children, in the evenings.
I hope you enjoyed your Fall. Unfortunately, the season is not, gently falling, into winter. More like leaping, jumping and pushing it's way in.
Do not, stay tuned, for the 'I Heart Winter' post.
Never gonna happen.

A Plea to my husband's mistress.

On the eve of the First Basketball game,
I write this passionate letter to my husband's eternal mistress.

Dear Basketball Season,

I will not march up to you and claim, "He is my man, back off." I understand, that has never and will never be the case. While my husband loves me, I know my place in this relationship. You began your love affair many years before me. You have a passion that connects you as soul mates. You share stories and memories that I will never know (and frankly, I have heard enough). I have seen you together and I do not feel jealous of your closeness. I almost respect your intimate connection. You flow with grace, connected as one. I know you make him happy. It may sound unconventional to others, but the three of us all benefit, from each other. When he returns to me, after a game, I have shared in his physical high. I have tried my best to give you both your space. I hope you have always felt that.
There have been others, besides us. Human women, who were never worthy to compete with you. For a few years, he was very close with Football Season. I know this cut you deep. She was a rough and wild one, who seduced him quickly with the length of her field and large crowds, full of encouragement. I know he misses her and the fact that he still longs to be with her, must be painful for you. There have been other brief flings, Bean Bag Tournaments, Bowling with his brother, a Sand Volleyball game or two (only when he has been drinking, he swears it didn't mean anything to him).
We both suffered from a dirty girl, who clouds his judgment. Summer Softball Season. Oh, she does not fight fair. Enticing him with seedy small town bars, pushing for him to go away with her for the weekend, encouraging him to 'just have one more beer, it will loosen up your swing." I know we have both fought hard, with Coach, to end this affair. Pleading with him that she is no good, but he will not part with her. I know she will have to hurt him, before he will leave her.
Basketball Season, I must make one plea. I would never be selfish enough to beg Coach, for his attention for myself. I must try, for my children. You are aware we had two and I know that hurt you. Coach tried to spend every spare minute he could, Coaching you, a few 3/3 tournies, playing with you in two leagues (even if one was an Over 30 League. I know that was uncomfortable for you both to meet in such a shady and dark location. But you lower yourself when Tru love is involved).
What you do not know, is that we had another baby. It's ok, please don't cry. Coach still loves you as much, Basketball Season, but he really must spend more time with his children. Please, try to let his babies see him. Please, do not turn bitter and jealous. You still own his heart, if not his body. If you like, you may begin spending quality time with our son. He is young, but I think you will find his build desirable.
I hope we can continue working this threesome harmoniously. If I get angry, do not take it personally. Be comfortable in the knowledge that Coach will always be yours. A love affair for the ages. If only, he had been just a little bit taller. I understand, you can not choose who you are attracted too. Love is blind.
If he had been able to rise (short joke) to your expectations, you may have been able to spend a lifetime together. A disappointment, you must feel often.
Please, be kind to us over the next 5 months.
Share him, just a little.

Sincerely,
Coach's wife.