Tis the season for sitting on my you know what

Y'all might have noticed that there hasn't been a menu for a while. Ahem, about that. Well, there hasn't been a menu because there hasn't really been much cooking going on around here. By the time dinner rolls around it is dark, and I am tired, and the effort to make dinner just got to be too much. Not that we are doing take out or any such thing, but we have basically been living off of my stash of freezer meals. Which is not really a bad thing, I suppose, as isn't that why there are there? But still, I sort of feel like I should make the effort to actually cook something at least once a week.

But, yet, I keep pulling from the freezer. And then I realized a few days ago that my stash was getting pretty low. Low to the point that we are about to eat the smothered eggplant that I wasn't so sure was worth the effort when I made it this summer, but still froze because who knew, we might get snowed in for a week this winter (It could happen....).

So for the last few days I have been trying to throw meals together in the afternoon, before I collapse onto the couch and watch Clifford the Big Red Dog. Then I had the inspired idea that I should make one meal for dinner and one for the freezer. I know, I know, I'm not a rocket scientist. This method has been touted by folks far and wide. But we've established that I am slow on the uptake.

To aid in my efforts, I decided to order some foil take out pans and lids from a restaurant supply company so I didn't have to use up my limited stash of Pyrex. Not the most environmentally friendly option, I know. But I could buy 500 take out pans for the cost one one Pyrex, and I couldn't really argue with the numbers there. And hey, at least foil is recyclable.

Do you KNOW how much space 500 take out pans and lids requires? I didn't quite think about the logistics of having to store that many pans. Or the draw that that many glittery foil objects might have for my kids. "Can we have JUST one more? You have so MANY!" I have a feeling that the garage is the best place to stash the big box-o-foil pans, but that means having to clear out a shelf (or two or three) out there to keep them on. Which requires a trip to the hazardous waste disposal place to get rid of all the old paint and lawn chemicals. And probably a trip to Goodwill and the used bookstore, and several trips around town to return all of the random crap that I have been "storing" for other people.

Somehow, I think I would have been better off just cooking dinner.

Happy Merry Ho Ho Ho, Tee Hee Hee

Don't say I never give y'all anything (and make sure your speakers are on!)...

Happy Holidays From Chichimama

It's the little things

After I picked the kids up at school today, we swung by church to deliver some presents for the angel tree. We saw the rector from afar, and I waved as he was conversing with someone else. We kept heading towards the angel tree, and the kids kept chattering about their day. At some point once we reached the tree, the rector caught up with us and I didn't quite notice as I was busy depositing the presents and keeping A from knocking over the water cooler.

I heard C say "Hi!" The rector responded with "Hello Father XYZ, how are you?" to which C blinked and dutifully repeated him. I blinked as well, and then, unclear how I was supposed to respond at that point, escorted the kids out of the building.

The whole interaction basically ruined my day. At first I was terribly embarrassed because clearly I had failed as a parent since the rector felt it necessary to parent my children in front of me. Then I got rather upset because really, my children are polite and interested in other people. They are three and five. The fact the C even had an interest in saying hello in a friendly tone of voice to a figure of authority is more than I can say for most of the children I interact with in the church.

By the end of the day I was ready to take our pledge card back from the stewardship office and rip it up. I have gone out of my way to instruct my children in the religion in which I was not raised. I have gone out of my way to volunteer, befriend members of the church who need befriending, and do the best I can to be an active and involved parishioner. I have done the best I can in raising my children, and yes, in an ideal world, they should have addressed the rector with " Hello Father XYZ, how are you today?" But I can't come up with a scenario in my mind in which I would have responded to a child's friendly hello in such a manner.

This is not a child-friendly, or even a family-friendly, church. It is a critical and insular church, which resists change and deters newcomers. And I really have no interest in continuing to participate. So the rector who has been nothing but unresponsive, condescending and insincere to my family can look for another family to drive out of this church. I'll fulfill my pledge and other commitments for the upcoming year, but after that I'm done.

It's the little things that keep a family in a church. And the little things that drive them out.

Overheard in the kitchen

The phone rings in the middle of dinner...

M: "It has to be one of your many relatives."

Chichimama: "Actually, it's an out of area call. Probably the Republicans looking for you. Can I tell them you're voting for Hillary?"

M: "No!!!! I'll be blackballed for life!"

Chichimama: "Ohhh, now there's a thought."

Answering Machine: "Hi, this is Hillary! We have reached a critical point in our campaign...."

Chichimama: "It's fate. Clearly some higher being is telling you how you should vote."

M: "I'm melting! MELTING I tell you!!!!"

Overheard in the livingroom

M: "You haven't posted today!"

Chichimama: "I know! But I don't HAVE to, it's December!"

M: "The whole point is to keep the momentum going!"

Chichimama: "It is Sunday. I deserve a day of rest."

M: "Who are you, God?"

Chichimama: "I'm your God, anyway."

Cheaters

For the past month I have been glued to my back window twice a week. Thursday and Saturday, the days that the next door and diagonally behind neighbors' landscapers come to do the leaves. On Thursday, the landscapers of the diagonally behind neighbors blow all the leaves into the backyard of the next door neighbor's instead of collecting and disposing of them. Then on Saturday, the next door neighbor's landscapers blow THE EXACT SAME LEAVES, plus whatever fell during the last few days, back into the diagonally behind neighbor's lawn. For some reason, this amuses me to no end.

I figured it is a big old game of chicken, and at some point in the near future, someone is going to get stuck having to collect and dispose an entire season's worth of leaves from two lawns in one day. My money is on the next door neighbor's landscapers....

Overheard by the computer

M: (after setting a pan on fire and singeing the kitchen ceiling and cabinets) "Well, there's your blog fodder for the day..."

Chichimama: "No, I'll let you blog it. It was your 'accident.' "

M: "Naw, I'm a professional blogger now*. I don't have time for THAT kind of blogging anymore."

Chichimama: "Well, lah-di-dah! Too bad you aren't a professional chef..."

*I can't link to his "professional" blog as it is his real name. But if you are really interested and I "know" you (FYI, it's rather dry unless you are, you know, a finance person) email me.

Overheard in the bedroom

A pads in at some early hour and crawls into bed.

A: "Mommy?"

Chichimama: "Ungh?"

A: "Do you remember the time C wasn't behaving and you yelled at him?"

Chichimama: "Ungh."

A: "You weren't yelling at me..."

Chichimama: (rousing herself enough to respond appropriately) "Ungh. Sometimes you don't behave either."

A: "Yeah, I get mixed up sometimes. But that's OK, I'm still little and cute."

Chichimama: "Ungh."

Good news!!!!

C: "Great news Mom! It is so exciting!!!!"

Chichimama: "Really???? What!?!"

C: "The school nurse is coming tomorrow to check us for lice! Isn't that great?!"

Chichimama: "Fab. Just what I need, lice AND fleas. Now I'm twice as itchy."

All I ever wanted for the holidays...

Fleas. On the upside, the mysterious bumps all over my legs that Dr. Google had me convinced was some horrific auto-immune disease are suddenly much less concerning.

Sometimes I'm not really sure that pet ownership is worth all the headaches.

The Holiday Card Fiasco

I have had my cards since mid-October. But yet, I still have no picture. And yet again, my cards will end up going out on December 23rd. Gah. On the upside, the outtakes are hysterical. If only they didn't feature my children, I would post them to amuse you all.

So much for planning ahead.

Little Voices

A and I are sitting at Starbucks having a lovely juice/coffee and pumpkin loaf. It is snowing outside. There is holiday music playing. I have no pressing anything hanging over my head. At the table next to us, two women are having a pow-wow about how to best proceed with a school fundraiser. They are clearly headed down the wrong path. I contemplate saying something, and then take another bit of the pumpkin loaf. Yumm, pumpkin loaf.

They continue to bicker over what is clearly a bad idea. I sip my coffee. Not my problem. Not going to get involved. Not even my kid's school. Yumm, coffee. OK, these woman are going to serious regret what they are about to do. I did that, last year. It so didn't work. It was a flipping nightmare, in fact. It is my moral duty to step in and say something. I cannot let another human being suffer the way I did last year.

I turn to say something, and then I hear a voice inside my head, that sounds remarkably like Lovely Friend's. "DON'T YOU DARE GET INVOLVED. YOU ARE CERTIFIABLE IF YOU GET INVOLVED." And so I walk out the door, sipping my coffee.

But I still feel guilty.

Perhaps there is a shot after all

At dinner tonight...

C's friend: "Raise your hand if you celebrate Christmas!" C's hand goes up.

C's friend: "Raise your hand if you celebrate Hanukkah!" C' s hand goes up again.

Chichimama: "Um, C? You're Episcopalian."

C: "But we celebrate it every year at Julia's house and just because she is in London, I'm not going to to forget that I celebrate Hanukkah with her. And Passover. I love celebrating with Julia. I love her holidays because I love her."

Chichimama wipes away a tear and then calculates that Rebecca is probably fast asleep and we can't start planning the wedding right that very instant...

Assming the worst

When I got home from dropping off C at school this morning, there was a message on my answering machine from the chair of a committee I am on. "Could you give me a call back when you get a chance? I need to discuss something with you." So, of course, my brain goes into overdrive, trying to figure out what she needed to discuss.

Did I say something inadvertent to offend her? Did I do something wrong? Am I being released from the committee (Hmm, that might not be so bad, really...). Every time my phone rang, I nervously jumped for it, wondering if it was her and mentally steeling myself for the worst.

Turns out, SHE had receieved an email from HER "boss" who was less than thrilled with something she had done, and she wanted my advice on how to handle it, because I am apparently "so good at these political things." Really??? You could have fooled me...

When am I going to stop assuming the worst? And more importantly, how do I keep my kids from inheriting this trait, or is it too late???

Holiday Tunes

So I am building the ultimate holiday tune list. What are your favorites? Currently I'm blaring "All I Want for Christmas is You" but I can't decide whose version I like the best. This particular version isn't it though. Once I get the list built, I'll share it with you.

Ah, now up is Paul McCarthy, "Wonderful Christmastime." Life is good...

The life and times of a Dumb Cat

5am: Meow! I'm hungry! Meow! Meow! Hee, hee, hee. I got her out of bed even though there is food in my bowl.

5:30am: Meow! Meow! Hee, hee, hee, I got her out of bed again. Why did I get her out of bed? Hmm. I think I will lie down right here and take a snooze while I think it over.

6:10am: I remember! Meow! Meow! Let me out! Meow! Meow!

6:11am: What IS that outside! OMG! It is cold and white! Meow! Meow! Let me IN!

6:12am: Clearly the front door is not the way out today. I will get her to let me out the back door.

6:13am: OMG! The white cold stuff is out there too! Meow! Meow! Let me IN!

6:14am: What about the side door? NO! The garage door? NO! Meow!!! Meow!!!!

6:15am: Where IS that litter box? Ewww. She needs to clean it. Now. Meow!!! Meow!!!!

6:17am: Hmm. I wonder if the white stuff is gone from the front. NOOOO! Meow! Meow!!!!

6:20am: I guess I am just going to take another nap. But what does she think she is doing??? The lights are on now, and she isn't headed back to bed. But I wanted to nap! And it is bright and loud and OMG the kids are up!!!!

6:21am: Ahh, under the bed. Nice and quiet and warm. I never should have gotten up this morning.

Ow

My feet hurt. I have been on my feet since 6 am this morning, and it is 11:55pm. I am now going to bed. Santa has been dispatched off to the North Pole; I have been officially excused from church tomorrow morning, and I am heading to bed. Ah, bed, how I love you so.

Coming next week, a return to the usual dribble at life at Chez J-E. Because I seem to be (almost) commitment free until March 1st. And tomorrow, you may even get pictures of the house decorated for Christmas. Or not. Depending on how my feet are doing.

Ow.

Another giveaway! For YARN!!!

Knitting Daily is giving away a gift certificate to your local yarn shop for $300 of yarn. Or $200, or $100. Go now! I have already mentally spent MY winnings. Ah, that yummy Alpaca I saw just last week. You are mine (I hope)!!!!!!!!

And thus ends the month of November. Hallelujah.

Breakfast with Santa by the Numbers

300 tickets

12 dozen goody bags

18 loaves of bread

22 quarts of half and half

23 dozen eggs

5 pounds of broccoli

7 pounds of sausage

10 pounds of cheese

25 boxes of mini-donuts

9 dozen bagels

6 crates of clementines

10 bunches of bananas

15 gallons of OJ

12 gallons of apple juice

1 parking ticket

2 LARGE glasses of whine

Mystery Yarn

It arrived! And I was thrilled to see the beautiful yarn. Yummy, yummy new yarn.

Brown wool for a hat and convertible mittens for my brother-in-law.


A fabulous reddish-purple for the tilted duster. It so totally rocks, this yarn.

And then there was this.

Lime green cashmere. I have no idea what I was planning to use this for. Clearly, I had a plan. One does not buy lime green cashmere without a plan. But I have no fricking idea what that plan was. Ideas anyone???

Anxious

I am anxiously awaiting the arrival of the mail, as hopefully my new yarn should be arriving with it. I really want my new yarn. I have become fixated on my new yarn. If the new yarn does not arrive, I will be very, very sad. The mail is always here by noon, and here it is, almost 2pm and still, no mail. Of course.

You don't think I have a yarn problem, do you?

Overheard in the playroom

C: "A stay still! Stay still!!!!! You have to stay STILL to play this game!"

A: "I am! I'm trying! I can't!"

C: "You can! I want you to stay still just like we do in church. THAT's how still you have to be!"

A: "Well, that's not a very fun game."

Is it December yet?

Because on December 1st, Breakfast with Santa will be over. My dining room table will stop being a repository for stacks of BWS crap. My phone will stop ringing off the hook with desperate pleas for tickets, more tickets, changes in ticket times, questions about the menu, the decorations, and the toys. My fridge will be turned back over to our household's food. My living room will no longer house 300 goody bags. And my children will get their mommy back.

C's opinion of the whole thing? "I think we should give more money to the church. Because maybe then you won't have to work so hard." Ah, if only that was how it worked...

Holiday Gifts: Solved

At pick-up yesterday, a friend approached me and asked what I was planning on doing for all of the teachers. I looked blankly at her and said "Huh?" And she reminded me that now that C is in kindergarten, there are music teachers and gym teachers and librarians, and art teachers, and etc, etc, etc. I literally groaned and said "Really? I am supposed to give something to all of them too? What could I possibly give that one of the billion other students they have hasn't already given? And I don't care how much they might love cookies, I am fairly confident that they don't want ALL. THOSE. COOKIES." I refrained from adding that I was also pretty sure that they really didn't want cookies from my kitchen.

After getting over the initial wave of horror, I came home and pondered whether I should do anything at all, and if so, what. And I came up with this. Yes, every "significant adult of the teaching variety" is getting a share of a sheep from the Heifer Project for the holidays. Because it makes me feel good, and I will bet dollars to donuts that at least 9 out of 10 of them will be thrilled to not receive something to clutter their desks or their thighs.

Never say never

My long time readers may remember my horror at the resurgence of the skinny jean. And my equal horror that Rebecca had embraced the trend while living in London.

Today, I have on a pair of skinny jeans and a cashmere baby doll top (Old Navy! $40! $40 cashmere! Only in the store! Merry Happy Holidays!). And I have already gotten three compliments on how skinny I look.

Clearly, I have no idea what actually might look good on...

Christmas had Sprung

Christmas has come a bit early Chez J-E, in an effort to perk myself up a bit. And so, even though I generally don't start decorating until the second (or, really third, because I'm lazy like that) weekend in December, this morning I put up the outdoor trees and window swags.


Now all we need is a little snow...and some cookies.

Knitting diet week 3

Projects knit - 1 shawl and 1/4 or a hat (pictures to come later when I have access to a card reader).

Pounds lost - 2

Are you seeing a trend here? Me too. I have two more holiday gifts to finish, then I am going to give the tilted duster a try. The yarn for it should be arriving early next week. M says that the knitting diet might end up being the most expensive weight-loss tool out there, given my love of soft and yummy yarn.

And in January I think we should have a knit-a-long. Because I've always wanted to do one but am too shy to break into someone else's. I think I have enough knitting readers to make it fun. So if you're interested, chime in on what you would be interested in knitting. And lurkers who knit, this means you too. Because if I'm throwing a shy gals knit-a-long, then it's your chance to enjoy one too...

Thanksgiving leftovers

• As lovely as it was not to cook Thanksgiving dinner, I think I much prefer hosting.
• It turns out that I have several strongly held beliefs about Thanksgiving.
• Stuffing must be Pepperidge Farm, the blue bag.
• Turkey should be cooked the same day that it gets served.
• Mashed potatoes should be made a day ahead, and be lumpy.
• Cranberry sauce should be whole berry, and lots of it should be provided, even in the doggie bags.
• Regardless of my laundry lists of beliefs, the meal was delicious and our hosts were lovely.
• But is rather odd to sit in on another family's Thanksgiving.
• The inside family jokes totally flew over my head, and I felt a bit overwhelmed by trying to keep everyone's name and relationship straight.
• And then when I realized that not only is this not my family, but I also would never see these people ever again in my life, the effort seemed somewhat pointless.
• So I kept wondering how Rebecca's family's game of charades was going.
• And who was cooking the bird at my dad's place this year, as that totally changes the whole dynamic of the holiday.
• And I really, really miss my cats and my bed.

Ding Ding Ding

We have a winner! At 8:09 PM, C announced that he felt hot and had a tummy ache.

I just love the predictability of my children...

Gobble Gobble

This is the first Thanksgiving since M and I were married that I'm not cooking. It is really rather odd. Refreshing, actually. I think I could perhaps get used to going elsewhere for Thanksgiving. It is also the first Thanksgiving since C was born that one of the kids isn't running a fever. But, I suppose the day is still young, and one of them could pull through for me yet. We've already had the requisite fall that may or may not require stitches to the chin.

And just to leave a smile on your face as you head off to do whatever it is that you do on Turkey Day, my entire outfit is being held together with binder clips. Because I couldn't find safety pins and apparently my boobs don't quite fill out the wrap top I grabbed from the back of my closet the way that they used to. Hopefully the kids won't start tugging on my shirt too hard, or else everyone will be in for quite a surprise around the dinner table...

Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

Life in the fast lane

Despite my post from yesterday, our trip actually went much smoother than I had anticipated, thanks in no small part to the fact that M travels extensively and has super elite status just about every place. So when we arrived at the airport, our bags were wisked away and we got to go through a specail line at security. We could have headed to the special waiting lounge (with free! drinks! free! snacks!) but decided to stay close to the gate, just because. I'm not sure why. We were the first folks on the plane, and our bags were the first off the plane. When we arrived to pick up the rental car, we had been upgraded to an SUV. It made it all much nicer than anticipated. And maybe, just maybe, I'll think twice next time I snark about M's travel.

But only if super elite status starts providing back up batteries...

Note to Self

Note to self: the portable DVD player only works on an airplane if the battery is charged.

And a very special thanks to the very lovely woman who sat in front of us. May she be blessed with fabulous grandchildren, as she has the patience of a saint.

Nuff said.

Sibling Rivalry

C has been acting out for reasons that escape us all. Temper tantrums, floor kicking, screaming, utter rejection of anything M or I say or do. I feel like I have a teenager and a two year old living in the same body. Not. Fun. Is any one else with an almost six year old experiencing this? Is it a developmental thing or and issue????

Anywhoo, A has been taking this all in, and decided that SHE will be the good child. So anytime C refuses to eat something, she gobbles it up and announces "I LOVE it! I am a GREAT eater! Look at me C, I LIKE it!" Or, this morning, when they both woke up at 6 am and C pitched a fit because I refused to go downstairs until at least 6:30, A, who generally is the one insisting on going downstairs, crawled into bed with me and announced "I'm just happy to snuggle with you mommy. I'm being good!" Which, of course, sent C into an even bigger tailspin.

On the upside, at least I have only one child who acts like the world is coming to an end at any given moment. On the downside, I have a feeling that A is not helping matters and I'm unclear how to address the issue with her, or if I should even try to...

The foundation of a wardrobe

I've been watching a lot of Tim Gunn and What Not to Wear recently. I have no idea why. Well, actually I do, because I know my wardrobe needs serious help. But they keep harping on how bras only last 6 months, and how many women are wearing the wrong bra size, and finally I thought about when the last time I bought a bra was. I think right after C was weaned. Which was almost five years ago. So I decided to take the plunge, so to speak.

I took a poll at the gym this morning, and the consensus was Victoria's Secret. So once I dropped the kids off this afternoon, I headed over there and was both horrified and disappointed. I am no where near the size I though I was, and have gone down TWO cup sizes since before I was pregnant. Yes folks, I am now an A cup. So help me, because I swear my boobs are bigger than they were a decade ago. But, apparently, they are just more droopy. And the side that both kids preferred when I was nursing? THAT one is even smaller. Which makes me rather lopsided. Of course.

The sales lady at Victoria's Secret finally gave up and basically told me she couldn't help me. Fabulous. I did buy one bra there, the best of the sorry bunch, just in case I couldn't find one someplace else. Then I headed to Lord and Taylor, home of the little old ladies in our town. I couldn't find a clerk to help me, but since I now had a general idea of what I was looking for, I was able to collect a fair number of bras to try on. The only one that fit perfectly? The $60 bra. Of course.

I couldn't bring myself to spend $60 on a bra that was supposed to only last 6 months, so I purchased two different, much cheaper, alternatives figuring that I would wear both of them for a while and then I would go back and purchase more of whichever one I would groan about if it was in the wash. At pick-up, as I was regaling everyone about my afternoon (why yes! You don't converse with perfect strangers about your bra size, or lack thereof?), someone suggested a specialty store near here. Where apparently you can get someone to help you, and they won't give up on you just because your boobs are lopsided and rather oddly shaped.

So Rebecca doesn't know it, but when she arrives here from London, I'm taking her to get me fitted for a bra. Because that's what friends do when they haven't seen each other in close to a year...

Who couldn't use a $150 Amazon certificate during the holidays?

Teeny Manolo is having a sweepstakes! Yes, indeed! Just in time for the holidays. Teeny Manolo is smart, very smart. Go, enter, and keep your fingers crossed that you'll be one of the lucky winners of a $50 or $150 Amazon gift certificate!

In defense of Rebecca

Rebecca has been rather concerned that everyone thinks her to be a lousy friend because I continually mention and link to her, and she never reciprocates. I try to reassure her that y'all are smart people and have figured out that the whole town reads her blog and, therefore, if she started linking to me, the whole town would read my blog as well. Which is not exactly what I am looking for in a semi-anonymous blog. Even though I try to keep in mind that anyone could (and quite honestly has) stumbled upon my blog (waving hello to the folks I know from past and current lives who read and don't comment).

So, there you have it. Rebecca is indeed a good friend, as she is under instructions from me not to link to me.

(And, since I am defending my favorite people to folks I don't even know, M had been concerned that he is coming across as a not very nice person on my blog. So for the record, M is a wonderful husband and father, despite how he might appear during my grumpy moments. But y'all figured that one out too, I am sure.)

The knitting diet week two

Projects completed (or even started): none.

Weight lost: none.

I think there might be something to this diet after all. I figure next week is probably a total wash since it will be Thanksgiving and I won't be able to make it to the gym at all, or even walk C to school because of the forcasted downpour both Monday and Tuesday.

Regardless, I do need to make a decision about what to make next. I've tried casting on a pair of mittens a few times, and have had limited success. Perhaps I will try again this morning, and revert back to my standard cast-on instead of the new one suggested by the pattern.

Because I know someone out there is more creative than I

Celebrations, a new party idea site, is looking for an expert. I ran across it in my hunt to try and find some work-from-home writing jobs, and briefly debated applying myself. But we all know that creative party throwing and crafty are not words that folks usually use in conjunction with my name. And while I am pretty sure I could come up with some great ideas to pitch myself, the thought of having to keep coming up with them made me shiver. So, I pass the opportunity onto all of you.

And if you run across any writing gig that requires a little less Martha Stewart, keep me in mind, OK?

Finally!

After weeks of temper tantrums, hysterical pleas for more sleep, and general miserableness by all parties, I think (please, oh please) that we have finally made the transition to standard time. 7 am baby!

Now if only we could get Dumb Cat to sleep past 4:30....

Go figure

I took this quiz, as seen at Revdrmom's, on which candidate held views closest to mine. The result? Joe Biden. Go figure. Every time I see anything about him I scream at the TV "Stop running already! Who is giving you money???? You are NEVER going to win!" Apparently, people like me are giving him money (hangs head in shame for doubting the one who is obviously my political solution). Hilary came in a distant second, which is the direction I am leaning even though it pains me to no end. Really, there is no one who I am willing to throw myself behind like I did Bill Bradley (I still have my Bill Bradley hat. And clearly I have a tendency towards agreeing with folks who don't have a shot of winning).

I actually think I played the role of Joe Biden's campaign manager in high school at a mock election. In which he got clobbered by Dukakis (hey, I went to prep school in Massachusetts, he didn't have a shot).

Go take it, it's fun. And I suppose eye opening, if you believe in such quizzes...

Fly, fly away

Next week we'll be headed south for the piggroom festivities. The last time we flew with both kids it was, how shall I say this nicely, disastrous. I know there are folks out there who fly frequently with small children, so please, take pity on me and tell me your travel secrets. Here are the facts, so far:

1. We will be traveling on the busiest travel day of the year. Because I totally messed up the ticket ordering.
2. Our flight is at 3pm, give or take.
3. Currently one parent is sitting with both children (guess which one) and the other is a few aisles up the plane.
4. The flight is supposed to take three hours, give or take.
5. There is no food being served on the flight. One child is already hysterical about the fact that there will be no cute little turkey sandwich on a cute little tray (which neither child would ever eat anyway).

Thoughts? Tips? Tricks? Any ideas on good packable travel games/activities that a three-year old and a five-year old might both enjoy without fighting over?

Careers

Two comments have been made to me this week that I would love to expound upon, but I just can't find the time to sit down and really address them as I should. But because I want to get my thoughts out of my head, you'll have to suffer through my less than thoughtful prose on one of the topics as I stand in my kitchen trying not to burn dinner.

Sitting at one of the kids activities the other day I was chatting with another mom who I keep running into at random places. Somehow we got to talking about how in a few years our youngest were going to be in school full-time, and suddenly we were going to find ourselves "out of a job" so to speak. She asked if I was planning on going back to work then, and I replied "Yes, but I don't really know what I would do. And given M's travel and work schedule and my tendencies towards perfectionism, I'm not so sure it would be the best thing for our family. I certainly won't be going back to my last career, that's for sure. We couldn't have two people doing that commute and working 80 hour weeks."

She nodded and said, "I know! I feel the same way! My husband just wouldn't be able to be so successful without me at home!" I think I startled a bit, because that wasn't actually at all what I meant, and it just struck me as so fifties-ish. And then it reminded me of a book I read in one of my graduate school classes called Men and Women of the Corporation. A chapter or two addressed the role of the wife in a successful man's career, and I remember finding it both fascinating and a bit horrifying, in a Stepford Wives sort of way.

At the point in time that I read that book, I was in graduate school with all intentions of pursuing a career of my own, and engaged to be married to M, who was clearly a career driven individual intent on climbing the corporate ladder. I was actually so intrigued by the topic that I wrote a short paper on it, which I would post for everyone if only I had any idea where all my graduate school work was stashed. I remember being somewhat horrified by the thought that all of these women had devoted themselves to furthering their husbands careers at the expense of their own. I also remember realizing that many of these women had to have been intelligent, capable, organized individuals to keep their households running so seamlessly and provide their husbands with the advice and support they needed to climb that career ladder.

I plan on hunting through the boxes in the attic to find that book so I can re-read that section given my not-so-new anymore role of stay-at-home wife. I have a feeling that I'm going to see a lot more of my current life in those pages then I ever imagined that I would. I do know that as each year passes, more and more of the household responsibilities, which used to be shared more or less equally, fall onto me. Which makes perfect sense in some regards, since I am home and M is generally not. What I don't know is if we will ever be able to make the transition back to a two career family.

The Piggrooms

Nana sent the kids some books about Thanksgiving (they arrived today, thank you!), and so we settled in after bath to read up on the fast approaching holiday. On page three of the first book was a picture of people with muskets. And A, having never seen a gun before, asked "What's that?" So I took a deep breath and launched into "Well, that is a gun, and guns are bad because they hurt people." "Are they shooting at bad guys? Are they KILLING people?" "Well, they are shooting at people they THOUGHT were bad guys. And yes, they killed people."

C proceeded to cover his ears and declare the book too scary. A, of course, continued to question. "But why did the piggrooms think that the people were bad?" "Well, because they were scared." "I get scared, but I don't kill people." "Well, that's a good thing. It's not right to kill people."

C uncovered his ears at this point and jumped in with, "They're killing the Indians, aren't they?" "Um, probably. Perhaps the British, but since we are talking about Thanksgiving, my guess would be the Native Americans." "Why do you call them Native Americans but some people call them Indians?" "Because they used to be called Indians, but really, the Indians live in India, and the Native Americans lived here before the pilgrims came here from England. But they thought that they were in India, at first. But really, they weren't Indians. It's kind of like if people kept calling you John but your name is really C. You wouldn't want to be called John, right?" "I guess..."

A then breaks in with "But the piggrooms. Why were they scared of the Naive Mericans?" "Well, because they sometimes painted their faces, and wore clothes that were different, and the pilgrims were afraid of that." A nods. "Ah. The Naive Mericans liked to play dress up, but the piggrooms didn't. But the piggrooms shouldn't have hurt the Naive Mericans just because they didn't want to play dress up."

"How about we read a Christmas book now?" "Yeah! Let's read the one about the Virgin Mary! Why is she called the Virgin Mary?"

"How about Mike Mulligan and his Steam Shovel?"

If a tree falls in the forest...

So Bloglines is apparently down. Leaving me flailing around the internet without any direction whatsoever. Never a good thing. I would ask if it were down for you too, but my guess is that no one would answer because, well, hello! Bloglines is down, and I know that a significant number of my readers come in through Bloglines.

Bloglines has become like caller ID on my phone. I don't actually know anyone's blog address, I just rely on Bloglines to tell me when you've updated and where to go to find you. Just like I rely on caller ID to tell me what Lovely Friend's phone number is, four years into the game. And if I suddenly stop appearing at your blog, come knock on my door as it just means that Bloglines lost my subscription to your feed. BoogieMum seems to drop off with alarming frequency, for example.

So as I sit here willing Bloglines to magically fix itself, I will pose the question: "What internet tools do you use the most?" What am I missing out on that I could be occupying myself with during this unexpected outage?

The Knitting Diet: Week One

Week one of the knitting diet: down two pounds, up one Nomad Hat.

Except I'm pretty sure I erased that two pound loss this weekend. Ah, sushi, how I love thee...

IMDB

So are we the only dorks who watch every single movie or TV show with IMDB running on the laptop? Seriously. It is rare that we don't query IMDB at least three seven times an evening. Clearly, neither of us were good at Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.*

We saw two movies today, one in the theater (The Bee Movie) and one on DVD (Knocked Up). During The Bee Movie, M kept leaning over to me and asking "Who is that?" And I kept saying "I have no idea. We'll have to IMBD it when we get home." Then tonight, we just took turns manning the laptop while guessing how old everyone was and what previous roles they had played.

How did we live without IMDB? And do you think it would be totally rude to bring the laptop with the wireless card into our next real live movie???

*And don't listen to Wikipedia on this one, I was playing Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon in college, well before 1994. So either we invented it and we should be suing someone for royalties, or Wikipedia is dead wrong. Shocker, I know.

Really, I swear

I really want to go to London to see Rebecca, I swear. But my flight options? They suck. We can leave here at 9 am and get in at 8pm. Which sounds great on the surface. But you KNOW my kids will be up until midnight, for the whole trip. Or, we could take the red-eye. Which results in them getting about five hours of sleep and us getting none. At best. Oh, yeah. They'll be fun then. Because we all know how wethey operate on limited sleep.

When she left, Rebecca said she knew I was a true friend because I refused to say "Oh, of COURSE we will come visit you." Instead, I kept saying "I love you dearly, but I refuse to commit." Well, we have committed, but man, do my options have to be so horrid? Clearly, I need to stay two weeks as given my kids track record, that is about how long it will take us to make the time zone shift...

So, which door would you choose, A or B?

Musical Beds

Last night I played a little game called musical beds. First A wanted to snuggle in our bed, but I convinced her that hers was more comfortable (it is). Then while I was dozing in her room, I heard C wander into mine and question M as to my whereabouts. I quickly scooted out of A's room and led C back to his room, which also required a snuggle (his bed, not so comfortable. There was no dozing). Then once I made it back to our room, A appeared wanting to snuggle with mommy and daddy and a gaggle of stuffed animals. I pared her down to one stuffed animal and in she came.

On the upside, she then slept til 6:20 or so. Ad C made it to 6:30. Too bad I didn't sleep at all...but at least I'm not likely to throw myself down in the middle of the grocery and sob about the injustice of life.

Sigh

I so wish I had someplace to wear this dress. Sigh.

Random Bullets of Tiredness

• Still not transitioned to standard time. Please, please put me out of my misery. I am somewhat doubtful that we will survive this intact.
• Thanks to a somewhat bizarre school schedule this week, and my lack of sleep and general disorientation, I have no idea what day it is. C tells me it is Thursday, but since he was not the calender person this week I have no real faith that he is correct.
• Instead, C was apparently the "messenger" this week. When I asked what exactly the messenger does, he informed me that they take people to the nurse. Which then led to the question "How frequently do kids in your class have to go to the nurse?"
• The answer was, "A lot." Apparently, this week alone there were five trips. And it was a three day week. In which the half-day kindergarten met for a whopping hour a day.
• I guess with 24 kindergarteners in a room, accidents are bound to happen. But still...a bit concerning.
• It makes one wonder what particular illness is circulating. I'm guessing tummy bug.
• Holy random transition batman, but for those of you near a Trader Joe's, they have organic mini-sweet potatoes that cook in the microwave in five minutes. Guess what I have been eating for lunch on a daily basis?
• Speaking of lunch, I had all intentions of posting an update on the knitting diet, which went surprisingly well this week, despite the excess Halloween candy floating around. But the camera is MIA, so you'll have to wait until I clean out my purse(s) tomorrow.
• And I just mistakenly added "suprisingly" to the spell-check dictionary instead of correcting the spelling, so forgive me in advance for all misspellings of the word in the future. Because if you hadn't noticed already, I am a lousy speller. And I have no idea how to go in and change my mistake.
• My high school English teacher taught me how to spell believe by telling me "never believe a lie." I recite that to myself every time I write the word. Anyone have any suggestions for surprisingly???
  
• And now I am off to bed, because if the kids won't alter their wake up time then I clearly need to alter my bedtime for the duration...
  

Awesome Dude

I signed my kids up for an eight week basketball class. Because they could both take the same class, at the same time, at the gym where I could work out while they shot baskets, and it was only $50 for the two of them. Win, win, win. The kids have been beyond excited about playing basketball together, and I have been thrilled about the opportunity to plod along on the treadmill and watch the news Oprah.

We showed up to the first class today, late, because I had a hard time convincing C that basketball requires sneakers, not crocs. And I walked in to a sea of mommies hanging around the back of the gym. "Oh God. I'm not expected to STAND here for the whole class," I thought. Not that I wouldn't LOVE to watch my kids play basketball, but I was really looking forward to my guaranteed thirty minutes on the treadmill. So I started to look around for the coach.

"Hey dude and dudette! What's your name?" a voice called out from the center of the court. And there stood two teen boys who looked like they weren't even old enough to drive. Around them stood a gaggle of three, four and five year olds hanging on their every word. C's eyes widened, and he went running over to deliver a high-five to the outstretched hand. A looked less thrilled, but trotted after C because that's what little siblings do (most of the time).

I looked at the other mothers and asked "Are these the teachers?" One shrugged and said "Well, we guess so. But HOW are two teenage boys going to manage with THAT many small children? What if someone has to go pee????" And I realized why everyone was standing around in the back of the room. I eyed the situation for a few moments, and then announced "I was babysitting at 14. Surely these boys are more than 14 because of child-labor laws. And I am all about gender equality, so I think they'll be JUST FINE." And marched out of the room and down the hall to the treadmill. The rest of them slowly followed, throwing backwards glances back into the gym.

When I arrived to pick the kids up, everyone was lined up in a nice straight line, waiting their turn quietly. The boys coaches saw the moms arriving and whipped out their cell phones. "Whoops dudes and dudettes, time's up for the week. We'll play the really awesome game next week. It's totally rad guys." I asked the kids how they liked the class, and the response from both of them was "Awesome!"

The treadmill time is worth the language reprogramming right? Right?

Shiny and new!

Look! New bar stools! From Target!
(and yes, I did manage to stay out of Target for an entire month, except for one trip to pick up teacher-dictated supplies for the Halloween party. For which I should be reimbursed, if I can just remember to track down the head class mom and keeper of the class party money...).

It is actually amazing what a difference these stools make to my kitchen. Or, maybe I am just telling myself that because of the blisters on my hands after spending three hours cursing and trying to put these together...

Hello! Good Morning!

I am going to try to be one of those artificially cheerful people today, you know, the ones you want to strangle. Because my other option is the grumpy old bat in the corner swiping at imaginary things, and I think artificially cheerful is probably the way to go.

Isn't it a lovely day! The rain, it is soooo great for the lawn. And really, I think the fact that our new wake up time is 5 am is just fantastic! Think of all the things I can get done between 5 and 8:30! And it is even better this week because C has school for only an hour and ten minutes because of parent teacher conferences. So I get that many more hours to spend quality time instructing my children on how to behave like contributing members of society. I am beyond excited. My lungs needed some exercise today.

Now I am off to clean the house for the playdate who is supposed to come over after school with his mother. Because even if they cancel for the fifth time, I really needed to clean the house as the cleaning service is coming tomorrow. And I just hate to actually ask them to clean.

Have a super duper day!!! Muwah!

Must. Post.

I came this close to bagging this NaBloPoMo thing today. I had grand plans for my post this morning, but thanks to my friend the time change and two children who refuse to acknowledge that the day does not start at 5:30am, my day alternated between kid time-outs and mommy time-outs, where I locked myself in the bathroom before I became a raving lunatic. So you are just going to have to wait on that post. But never fear, the month is young and at some point the kids are going to have to cave to the power of the clock...

Daylight Grumping

Every year, I rejoice when we spring forward and grump when we fall back. Backwards, I know. But when you have children who would go to bed at 6pm if you let them, and would wake up at 5am given their druthers, you would grump too.

Last night I made the horrific mistake of setting my clocks back before I went to sleep, which resulted in me staying up way too late. And A, who has no idea what Daylight Saving (and yes it is saving, not savings) is all about, was up at 5am. C actually slept until 6:20, which was a perfectly acceptable time given the circumstances. But now I am going spend the day fighting with the kids internal clocks in a futile attempt to get them switched over to standard time in a timely manner. At the moment they are begging for breakfast, which I am refusing to serve to them before 7am. It is going to be a fun, fun day.

Yawn. Wake me when it is spring...

All Growned Up

"Mommy, when am I going to be all growned up?" is A's new favorite phrase. Anytime there has been a silence of more than a few seconds, she comes out with that. And when she isn't wondering when she is going to be "all growned up," she is planning what her "all growned up" life is going to be like.

As we walk C to and from school, she discusses the pros and cons of each house on the way. "Well, that one is a pretty color, but it is too small. And that one is brown, and I don't like brown houses, but it has a tree swing and good Halloween decorations." I try to point out that she could change the color of the house and that Halloween decorations don't actually convey when one purchases a home, but she seems unconvinced and continues to use those as her primary criteria for choosing a home.

She is planning on having three kids (actually, two kids and a baby) most days, although sometimes she wants five. But after I point out that five kids translates into an awful lot of sandwiches to make in the morning, she scales it back to three again. She has decided that she and C are going to live three houses apart, so the cousins can see each other all the time. And when C dares to mention that he wants to be an astronaut, and astronaut's don't actually LIVE where we do, she glares at him and announces that he will JUST have to be something else because that RIGHT THERE will be his house and he will come for dinner every Friday.

The latest addition to her all growned up repertoire is playing wedding. Clearly, someone in her class recently went to a wedding as she knows exactly how it all works. "You sing the song while I walk down the rug. Then you announce me husband and wife and I run back down the rug and you throw birdseed. Then we dance and have cake, and I go have honey. Why do you have honey at the end of the wedding?"

Yesterday, as A was dancing with her phantom husband, she turned to me and said "Mommy, I want to dance with you now." And so, with A all dressed in white with a princess tiara on her head, we shuffled around in a circle. She looked up at me, as happy as could be, and said "I love you Mommy." And, just for an instant, I saw my little girl all growned up, a wonderful, smart and beautiful woman who was leaving me to start her own family.

"I love you too A. How about some snack?"

"OK, will you feed me like a baby?" And, just for an instant, my wonderful smart, beautiful little girl wanted to be taken care of by her mommy.

The day that got away

Today was a day that I should have gotten much accomplished. We had nothing to do besides get C to and from school and feed a classmate of C's lunch. I had a list a mile long of things to do around the house: vacuum the kitchen rug, sort through the beginnings of Christmas in the guest room, finish putting the garden to bed. And what I got accomplished? Nothing. The lunch/playdate did not go as well as anticipated and on top of that, A was distraught about being excluded from said playdate, so I spend the early afternoon playing princess and wedding while refereeing two kindergarteners who should really know how to play store on their own.

Once the playdate decided that his time here was over we walked him home and then came back. I had all intentions of starting in on my list, but then I got a phone call from a friend I hadn't talked to in ages and after I hung up with her I decided to wash all the comforter covers (which was no where on the list). That turned into a romp in the basement with the children in an ongoing attempt to convince the kids that the basement is fun and exciting and where they should play all. the. time. instead of treking the toys from the basement to the living room and then leaving them there.

Once I had the kids installed downstairs, I headed upstairs with all intentions of vacuuming the kitchen rug, but then saw I had messed up the pattern in my new knitting project and started ripping that out. I got it ripped out, but then the kids decided that the basement was not all that I had promised it would be so we headed out to the yard to work on the beds. But it was "too cold" so we quickly headed back in and then got sidetracked by snack. Ahh, snack.

So instead of eating snack, I quickly turned to my knitting. And then it was time to watch shows and I kept knitting. Then dinner, bath, and bed, with none of my to do list accomplished. But I did get this far on my new project...


and now my sushi is here, and the knitting diet is about to head out the window for the evening. Happy Friday!

I bet you thought I was already out

Hey, NaBloPoMo doesn't say WHEN during the day you have to post, so here I am, fashionably late and not terribly inspiring. Do you want to know why I am not inspired? Probably not, but I am going to tell you anyway. Because I know you will just walk away from the screen when you are done reading my ramble so I don't feel guilty about burdening you, and yet I won't know that you walked away and therefore my feelings won't get hurt. That is why I love blogging in a nutshell.

Anyway, I am not inspired because we have spent the day coming down from the excitement of the past few days and it just was not at all pretty. I actually came very close to spreading out the kids' treat bags and telling them to eat as much as they wanted just to end the horrific begging for candy that has been happening. Last year we had a one candy a day rule and that went over fine for about a week, at which point they forgot about the candy and it all went into my secret stash.

This year, A went to bed begging for candy, woke up at 3am begging for candy, and never went back to sleep after that. Which should give you an idea of just how my day went. C was OK with the one candy a day thing until he listened to his sister begging every thirty seconds, and then he felt obliged to jump in and join the fun. On the upside, this was not the year in which the kids figured out that trick-or-treating is not restricted to the houses of people we know in a one block radius so the amount of candy they have is pretty minimal. But still, I think the parents who let their kids eat it all in one fell swoop and just deal with the sick children for an evening might be onto something...

Anyway, much fun was had by the younger set yesterday. And Snow White was much revered by all of the seven and under girls at the elementary school, yet sneered at by the eight and up set. So now I have a general idea when to expect the eye-rolling at grownup antics to begin. I also have decided to petition to have the kindergarten teacher declared some sort of saint, because by the end of my two hours there I felt like a mac truck had run over me and she was rip roaring ready to repeat the whole day over again for the afternoon session. I seriously want to bottle up her energy and market it.

On a totally different note, I am about to embark on a new program I am going to call "The Knitting Diet." Because I still really need to lose the rest of that baby weight (and don't even TRY to tell me that my baby is three and it is therefore no longer baby weight, as it is. I swear.). Why the knitting diet? Well, I have discovered that 90% of my "extra" calories are consumed in the evening after the kids are in bed. But the nights I sit and knit, I only make it through half a glass of wine and a chocolate kiss or two. So from now on when I feel the urge to whip out the chocolate chip cookies or whatever looked particularly tempting at Trader Joe's that week, I am going to sit down and knit a few rows. If nothing else, I should get a jump start on my holiday gift making.

And that folks, is about all I have in me for the evening. So I am going to go find my knitting and pour myself that glass of wine and see what's on TIVO. Stay tuned tomorrow for some knitting pictures, if I can remember to charge my camera battery.

And this is because you told me I was pretty...

A real, live crockpot lasagna recipe that met with the M, C, and A seal of approval. Yes, the noodles, even whole wheat ones, were nice and soft with out precooking or using the slightly yucky tasting no-boil ones. And if you make it meatless, it is even easier.

It makes it all so much better

I have been in Halloween hell for the last few days. As 2nd assistant classmom, apparently Halloween is "my" holiday. So I have been cutting out foam haunted houses, gluing them, cutting windows and doors, tying on strings, etc. etc. etc. I have been accepting the fact that they are making me dress up. In a costume. Snow White, to be exact. I have been coordinating balloon pick ups and sing-a-long practices. I have been frequenting the local party store so often that they know both my children's names.

But tonight, after finishing the last of the foam haunted houses and packing up the rest of the supplies for the party tomorrow morning, I discovered that at long last my new cell phone carrier has my song as a ring tone. I am happier than I have been in weeks. Ahhh, the joy of the familiar. Jeannie, take me away...

A new way to count sheep

C has been having difficulty sleeping. Tonight as I was cleaning up downstairs I heard: "Two hundred and fifteen wool blankets, two hundred sixteen wool blankets, two hundred seventeen wool blankets..." He cracks me up.

Shopping help needed!

So A only has one sweat suit that fits, and we have, ahem, lost it. And now that it is cold out the child needs at least two, preferably three sets, much to my husband's dismay as he hates them with a passion. But when shelpping a three-year old to swimming and gymnastics in the cold weather, it makes the most sense to me. Easy on, easy off, relatively warm. Except I can't find them anywhere. She won't wear the kind with elastic at the bottom, which is the only kind being shown at Old Navy and Target (although I have not been in Target for a while, so correct me if I am wrong there). I have looked online at all the usual places, and there is nothing. Carter's has tops, not bottoms. Oshkosh had big girls, not little. Even Gymboree seems to be lacking in them this year. WHAT are little girls wearing for comfort and warmth these days??? And have you seen a plain old sweat suit anyplace???

Overheard at the kitchen table

M: "What are you doing?"

Chichimama: "Scooping out the pumpkin."

M: "Why?"

Chichimama: "So I can make pumpkin soup."

M: "You can eat pumpkin?"

Chichimama (blinks): "Uh, have you ever had pumpkin pie????"

M: "I thought it was, well, fake."

Chichimama: "No, not so much."

M: "Huh. Imagine that..."

The end of an era (almost)

Chichimama: "C if asked you if you wanted p-i-z-z-a for dinner, what would you say?"

C: "YES! Pizza!!!!"

Chichimama: "What if I asked you if you wanted h-o-t d-o-g?"

C: "Yes! Hot dog and pizza!"

Chichimama: "What if I asked you if you wanted e-g-g?"

C: "Silly mommy! That's a breakfast food! Are we really having hot dog and pizza?"

Chichimama: "No, we are having p-a-s-t-a."

C: "Peanuts? A is allergic to peanuts."

Chichimama: "Thank God. I was about to get really freaked out...."

Overheard from the backseat

C: "So we played inside today. The teachers were discussing going o-u-t, but then they decided to stay i-n. I was going to ask them why we couldn't go o-u-t, but then I figured if they were spelling o-u-t instead of saying out, they probably wanted to hide the fact that o-u-t was an option. So I didn't ask."

Chichimama almost swerves into incoming traffic because she is laughing so hard.

C: "Why are you laughing?"

Chichimama: "It's a grownup thing. Hard to explain."

C: "I really don't understand grownups sometimes."

Because I look at my blog more than my calendar

MUST get children passports. And buy tickets to London.

MUST make appointment for cats to see vet for their "senior wellness checks."

MUST call the nice company who fixes furnaces. Because it might get cold, someday.

MUST order wood for the fireplace. And transplant the lilies that are currently residing where the wood is going to be placed.

MUST go to bed. But am now hooked into the world series. Plus, Dumb Cat is out and refuses to come in. At least he is feeling better???

Three in one day! Unheard of!

My third post of the day. Clearly I am chewing up all my creativity (cough, cough) before November. But I am standing in my kitchen, after dinner, with the kitchen cleaned up, C's homework done, and the children playing happily together in the basement. I should be putting them to bed right now, but this seems like too good a moment to ruin. So I'll wait five minutes until it all goes south and then turn into "evil mommy who makes tired children go to bed...."

And on a totally different note, I need a good idea for an appetizer than can be served cold and doesn't require much work on my part for a women-only cocktail party on Friday night. Anyone have any brilliant ideas beyond the chip and dip or veggies and dip route?

There it is. The first yelp of "No FAIR!" And I'm off to begin the bedtime proceedings. Wish me luck...

Compressed

The birthday party circuit has started up again, and this year it seems to have thrown me for a loop. I swear that just a few weeks ago I was standing in the same toy aisle picking out birthday gifts for C's friends, and yet here I am again, trying to figure out what 6 year old children might want to play with instead of five year old children (Answer: pretty much the exact same thing, I believe).

And if I am buying gifts for other people's children, it means that in not too many months, my oldest will also be turning six. Which is just so hard to believe. Of course, by the time he turns six I will be equally surprised that he isn't yet six, as after four months of other children's parties, I tend to forget that mine is on the younger end of all his friends.

I feel like I have somehow missed a whole year, even though I remember all of the things that happened during it. And I'm not quite sure if this year is an aberration, or whether time from now on will just keep speeding up until I am one of those people who stares at you in a grocery store and exclaims "How can you have children!?! I swear you can't be more than 18, because I didn't you just head off to college?"

But yet, even though the years seem to be speeding by, the days still drag. How, oh how can it be only Wednesday today? And it is not even that far into Wednesday. Shhheshh. Some people are never happy...

Inquiring minds want to know

So at what point do you take a cat to the vet? Dumb Cat is really not himself. He is sneezing and snuffling and curled up looking very bedraggled in the basement. I mean, if he has a cold I know how he feels because if I could curl up in a nice dark place I would, but I've never seen him like this. But can a vet really do anything for a cat with a cold? I have to assume that it is kind of like taking a child to the pediatrician for a runny nose, right? Is there a way to tell if a cat is running a fever?

Who knew I would get so worked up about the heath of Dumb Cat...

A snuffle and a snort

We all have colds over here, even the cats. I had no idea cats could get colds, but both of ours have been sneezing and snorting up a storm today so clearly they do. Or else they have bird flu and we are all going to die, but I'm going to go with cold. Regardless, it is really, really gross to have two cats sneeze all over you on a fairly frequent basis. Clearly, black was not the right choice of tee-shirt color for today.

I should probably be going to bed, but M is out of town and I have a ton of TIVO to catch up on. Plus, lying down causes me to feel even worse, so right now collapsing on the couch with a big ole cup of tea is sounding like the better idea right now.

On the upside, they claim it will start raining here any minute and bring the temperature down to a mere seven degrees or so above normal....

Blog Fodder

M: "Chichimama, you look sad."

Chichimama: "No, I'm just a bit sick and weather obsessed."

M: "I have just the thing to help you! Look!!!"

Chichimama: "A remote control helicopter???"

M: "Yes! Well, a rather inexpensive one. On a real one you have up and down and front and back and left and right, and on this one, well, you have two buttons...I got it for free really..."

M demonstrates the helicopter, to the delight of Lazy Cat who scampers around the kitchen like a kitten instead of a ten year old cat.

Chichimama: 'BLOG FODDER! With pictures! Keep flying while I grab the camera!"

Chichimama returns with camera not more than three seconds later. Lazy Cat has decided to take a snooze and the helicopter has lodged under the fridge grill.

Chichimama: "So much for bog fodder. That about sums up my day."

M: "But look! A remote control helicopter!"

Obsessed

I have become weather obsessed (yes even more so than usual). I check various weather sites several times a day, and have taken to watching both the 10 pm and 11 pm news just for the weather forecast. Even C has noted my obsession with the weather, and alerts me when a forecast comes on PBS Kids.

I just want to know when the weather will break. And when the leaves will start turning. And when I can stop feeling guilty about wanting to sit on the couch and knit warm wooly things rather than chasing my children around the playground. I don't know how y'all who live south manage in this weather year in and year out...

The "man" meme

As seen at Jen's...

1. Who is your man?

M. Or Orangeman Mike, as he calls himself.

2. How long have you been together?

Continuously? 12 years. But we had a few false starts...

3. How long did you date?

Two years and two months from our first date to our wedding.

4. How old is your man?

35

5. Who eats more?

M. Especially when he is training for a marathon...

6. Who said "I love you" first?

M. I think. He would have been more likely to say it first anyway...

7. Who is taller?

M.

8. Who sings better?

I do. He's totally tone deaf (love you honey!).

9. Who is smarter?

Technically, we think I have the higher IQ based on pure numbers, but he is infinitely more successful. Doing well on standardized tests really doesn't mean much in the real world..

10. Whose temper is worse?

His. Although that's not saying much. I can only think of two arguments that resulted in a raising of a voice. But he is more likely to swear at inanimate objects...

11. Who does the laundry?

Me. Although he used to do it all, many moons ago...

12. Who takes out the garbage?

Me.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?

He does.

14. Who pays the bills?

He does. I used to, but refused to use Quicken because it is a stupid program, so now he does and he bitches about it constantly.

15. Who is better with the computer?

He is. I have become computer illiterate since we started living together.

16. Who mows the lawn?

Vinnie. He's the man.

17. Who cooks dinner?

I do. But he does the dishes (most of the time).

18. Who drives when you are together?

He does. Unless he hasn't had enough coffee. Then I do because I've learned to live on minimal sleep without caffeine...

19. Who pays when you go out?

He does. He swears he married me because I let him pay on the first date without blinking an eye. See number 9 ;-).

20. Who is most stubborn?

He is.

21. Who is the first to admit when they are wrong?

Neither of us. Which is why we still have no furniture for several rooms in the house.

22. Whose parents do you see the most?

Toss up. We probably see his slightly more, but they live 25 miles away while mine live 300.

23. Who kissed who first?

The first time we dated or the second ;-). I think he did. Or maybe I did. Ask Rebecca, she'll know.

24. Who asked who out?

My sorority sister told him where to find me 12 hours after my ex dumped me. So I suppose technically she did. But our official first date (to the Natural Museum of History, how cool is that as a first date idea) was initiated by him...

25. Who proposed?

He did.

26. Who is more sensitive?

I am.

27. Who has more friends?

He hangs onto friends. He still talks to people he went to elementary school with. The only person I still talk to besides him (and his friends) who I knew before kids is Rebecca. But in terms of sheer numbers at this particular point in time I probably have more because he works so much.

28. Who has more siblings?

I do, if you count step-siblings.

29. Who wears the pants in the family?

Heh. It depends on who you ask. Probably A.

So I know I do this every year....

But when is it cold enough to turn on the heat? Inquiring minds want to know as it's pretty cold in here. But seriously? I just turned the AC off (again) last week and it feels just WRONG to be turning the heat on less than a week after turning off the AC. Or perhaps I just have hang ups about heating and air conditioning. Fine. CLEARLY I have hang ups about heating and air conditioning. Still, what is YOUR magic number?

The stuff legends are made of

When I was little, my mom was known to be the tooth fairy by the entire elementary school (or at least those who were young enough to believe in such things). She garnered this particular reputation thanks to an unfortunate sleepover where a tooth was lost, and small children pretended to sleep, and she was caught in the act of replacing the tooth with a quarter. Wide-eyed, my sister's best friend gasped "Mrs. J! You're the tooth fairy!" And my mother, unsure how to handle the situation, mumbled "Ummm...," which was taken for a yes, and a legend was born.

This year I am in charge of Breakfast with Santa at our church, one of the obligations that I have been unable to unload onto someone else. So over the last few days I have been making frantic phone calls trying to locate a Santa (for free) and discussing the merits of various cheap toys for goody bags in a hushed voice over the phone. C quickly caught wind of what was going on, and apparently proudly announced to his entire class on Friday that "My mommy knows SANTA. And she has been talking to him. DAILY."

As the students erupted from the school in joyful abandon at the end of the day, a hush fell over the crowd as the children surveyed me chasing A around and threatening her with various and sundry punishments if she didn't get into the stroller "RIGHT NOW." Then a little girl, whose name I still don't know, screamed out "Everyone! Be good! C's mom is here! And she's going to tell Santa on all of us!" And twenty-three kindergarteners quietly walked to their very confused parents. Thus, another legend was born.

Scaling back

I have totally over committed myself this fall. And I am in the process of disengaging myself from what I can. Which, quite honestly, is not all that much. But hopefully ditching a few of the things on my plate will ease things around here enough that I can get back to a semblance of normality. Because no one here at Chez J-E is having fun. Except maybe the cats, because I'm up until the wee hours of the night providing a warm lap.

Wobbly

After over a year of waiting, C has a wobbly tooth. There has been much rejoicing and many tears held back by mommy as C proudly wiggles said wobbly tooth. My little boy, with a wobbly tooth. Hard to believe.

I guess the tooth fairy needs to figure out exactly what her payout will be, huh? What is the going rate these days???

I think I am horrified

I rarely watch commercials thanks to my friend the DVR. But tonight I happen to be watching TV live. And I just saw a commercial for this. An exercycle attached to a TV, designed for kids. Am I wrong? Or is that? What ever happened to riding your bike around the block???

Hats are my new love

I finished this hat this morning. And I've decided that I love hats. They knit up quickly. There is little to no finishing. If you are expecting a holiday gift from me this year, think hat. Then email me with your choice of color...

A Scalloped-Edge Hat in a yummy orange alpaca. I couldn't tell you the brand of yarn, it was such a good deal that I just grabbed it without noting anything else about it. I also discovered that I love alpaca...

My day so far

I've had a mildly productive day. I managed to get gas, and milk, so I can have coffee in the morning just as I like it. I've fed the cats, and only got slightly distracted by reorganizing the cabinet in which the cat food resides. I've made one trip to Michael's to buy crafts for the Kindergarten Halloween Party (yes, it deserves all capitals. It is a Big Deal, apparently). I may have also purchased some very cute baskets 40% off, and just might be making another trip back there tomorrow to pick up a bunch more.

I've taken two doors off the hinges and put them back on, in order to fit M's new couch into his office. I went to a home improvement store all ready to get my mums, only to discover that they were totally picked over and I should have done that a month ago. I've redecorated the upstairs bathroom for $12 (oh, how I love the Home Goods) and bought pillows and a throw for M's new couch (No flowers. Brown and blue stripes. Manly, in a metrosexual sort of way.). I've loaded the car up with two boxes for the thrift store, and read half of Crazy Aunt Purl's new book.

I watched 15 minutes of Noggin, but only because I was trying to reprogram the new DVR yet again. Oh TIVO, how I miss thee. I may have even had a glass of wine before seven. Because I don't have to worry about putting the children to bed. I tried to watch the evening news, but then decided that it was way too depressing and really, my child-imposed news ban is actually a good thing.

I've talked to M twice, and the kids once. I may be just about to call them again. And I can't for the life of me decide when to have dinner. The childless me used to eat at 8 or 9 pm. But the mommy me is used to eating fifteen minutes ago.

It is very odd being alone.

Alone

For the first time in five years, I am alone in my house for more than two hours. M took the kids down to his sister's for a long overdue visit, and here I sit, alone. In the chaos. But, at least it is quiet chaos. I should really be organizing the entry, or the linen closet. I think, however, I am just going to sit here and actually finish a cup of tea before it goes cold for once. And then, I am pretty sure my weekend alone will turn out something like this. Because we're out of milk. And gas. And there is always laundry to be folded. But first, I have to find that tea cup.

Overheard in the Kitchen

M (arriving home from work): "OMG, do yourself a favor and turn on the AC!"

Chichimama: "It is OCTOBER. I am doing NO such thing."

M: "Well, I am."

C: "Thank GOODNESS. I'm SWEATING in here!"

Some questions for the organized

OK. So my plans for the weekend involve a massive organization of the house. As it is driving me bonkers. But there are some items that I have no idea how to deal with. Paper, fine. Files, etc, etc. But where do you keep your library books so they get read, but not lumped into the regular bookcase??? And how do you deal with the small little plastic crap that comes home in goody bags? What about cell phones, ipods, and their various charging paraphernalia? Coupons to Bed Bath and Beyond and such, so they aren't hanging out in the open, but yet not shoved into a drawrer to be found 2 years after the expire?

How about your table clothes and such, assuming you don't have a buffet or other similar piece in the dining room? Art supplies? Hats and mittens? Shoes in the entryway?

I KNOW I have some super organized readers. And some readers who have learned how to be organized in the not so distant past. Please help a gal out. Feel free to shout out some other things that I know I have forgotten, like the tupperware that gets used every day in the lunch box, but can't really sit out on the counter.

Bullets of Catch Up

• We did eat in the dinning room. And no red sauce landed on the carpet. Because the kids were soooo excited to be eating with other kids that not a single one of them ate anything until desert (ice cream), which was consumed outside.
• I am (almost) seeing the light at the end of my crazy SeptemberOctober. I think maybe by the 15th things should settle down a bit.
• Except apparently as class mom, I have to DRESS UP for Halloween. Y'all know that Halloween is my least favorite holiday, ranking right up there next to Valentines Day, right? Had I know I was expected to dress up, it would have been deal breaker. Seriously.
• So what the hell do I do? I feel somewhat obligated to be slightly more creative than the witch's hat, but I don't feel like spending much money on this one. Any ideas of crafty bloggers?
• We have started the process of redecoratingdecorating the train room. Except it is so small that we have stumped the free design consult service at the furniture store. So we have moved onto plan B, which is to move the old furniture in the family room into the train room (we tried it the other night and it does in fact fit) and redo the family room instead. Which I am rather excited about.
• M is not, as it is potentially a much more expensive project. So we'll see if it ever gets off the ground.
• I have decided that I really hate our weekly schedule. I spend my life racing from one school to another and back again. And I have at least another two years before they are both in the same school.
  
• On the upside, we ditched tennis and fall baseball. Which is a good thing as I have no idea how we would manage. Right now we all live for Thursday when our day ends at 11:30.
• I even begged Lovely Friend to pick up my vegetables from the CSA tomorrow so we don't have to leave the house again if we don't want to.
• Of course you know the kids will be at each other's throats by 12:01...
• Off to start the mad morning dash now...
  

Where to eat

We're having some friends over for dinner tonight, and I'm having a serious problem trying to determine where to eat. There will be eight of us, so the dining room makes the most sense. But our dining room is so, well, formal (I am starting to really hate the concept of a formal dining room. Because who really lives that life any more?). And four of the eight people are children. Small children, who will be eating pasta with red sauce. But in the kitchen, I have three stools with backs, and one backless one that kids topple off of. And only three kitchen chairs. So the kitchen doesn't make much sense. And after all my bitching and moaning about the heat last week, the cold front came through last night and it is only supposed to be 65 be dinnertime, which I think is probably too cold for outdoor dinning.

Plus, my dining room doesn't look nearly as cute as Jackie Sue's. Clearly she should come north and help a design challenge gal out...

Note to Self

A calendar is a useful tool. If you open it before opening your mouth that is. Three times this week I have booked something and then had to call back five minutes later because it conflicted with something else. I'm unclear how my life got quite so busy, but clearly it has something to do with the fact that I still have not learned to sit on my hands when a request for a volunteer is made.

And speaking of volunteering, at a meeting this morning someone remarked that A was very well behaved in a roomful of adults. And then as an aside (in a not so nice a way), she said "Of course, that's probably because you bring her everyplace with you instead of hiring a sitter." I think I am choosing to take that as a compliment on my child's behavior, rather than a comment on how I am raising my daughter...

Hypothetically

Hypothetically, if one had to return a recalled garden tool to Target, and if one also needed cat food and litter, toothbrushes, toothpaste, soda and some birthday gifts for small children one has only interacted with at kindergarten drop off, do you think one could hypothetically purchase all of said things at Target instead of shelpping two children to three different stores and paying much more for each of those items without violating the spirit of the law? Hypothetically, of course.

Ulgh

I am a New England girl. It should not be 90 in late September. The leaves should be turning, I should not be forced to get a pedicure so I can continue to wear my flip flops. Just as Rebecca is insistent that she should not be forced to turn on her heat in September, I am insistent that I should not be forced to run my air conditioner in September. So we are lolling around the house sweating. Or maybe we are lolling around the house because I had my rear end handed to me in a body sculpting class at the gym today (Yes! I saw the inside of the gym! Hallelujah!). But regardless of the reason we are lolling around the house, we are all sweating.

I thought I was in reasonable shape. But today as I face planted in the middle of a push up and found myself staring at the sneakers of the instructor who came racing over to see if I was OK, I realized that I may be able to trot several a few miles, but I have not an ounce of strength in my body. Well, except for the muscles one needs to lug children around. Those are pretty strong. But clearly those are not the muscles one needs to complete a push up.

After the instructor determined that she didn't have to track down a first aid kit, I was held up as the shining example of what not to do. Fabulous. She also made sure to learn my name so she can hound me to keep coming to her class when she sees me around town. Even more fabulous. And I bet you that by tomorrow morning I will be hobbling about, as I can already feel my leg muscles turning to jello. If only yoga met at a time that actually worked for me.

I'm not quite sure what possessed me to sign up for this class (well, except for that muffin top that hangs out over my jeans. And will one class a week REALLY do anything for that? Yeah. I didn't think so either.). But as I lay on the floor rubbing my nose and wondering whether this might be a good excuse for a nose job, I decided that really, my original Wednesday morning plan of Starbucks and a bagel would have been a much better choice.

Spam gone wild

So apparently emails headed to my blog account have been spam filtered to death over the last few months. So if you emailed me and I never got back to you, please try again. I'm behind in email, but only by a few days. Gah.

Overheard in the Driveway

C: "Mom, when you were in college and you missed Nana, did you just send her an email?"

Chichimama: "When I was in college there wasn't really email yet."

C: " Well, you had a computer, right?"

Chichimama: "Actually, I went some place called a computer cluster where everyone shared computers."

C: "Huh. Well, did you call home from your cell phone then?"

Chichimama: "There were no such things as cell phones when I was in college. In fact, for a year I called from a pay phone that I shared with 30 other girls."

C: "What's a pay phone?"

Chichimama: "I am getting old."

Click Clack Creak

Has anyone ever seen a chiropractor? Seriously. My neck has started creaking and clicking whenever I turn it. And it strikes me that that can't be so good. Or else I really am getting old like all the doctors seem to think.

My MIL loves her chiropractor, but I have always been somewhat suspect of them. I have no idea why. Perhaps it is just the thought that if they crack my back slightly wrong, I could end up an awful lot worse than creaky. Shiver.

So I'm taking a poll of everyone I know to see who has experienced chiropracty (I have no idea how to spell that one, but you get the drift). So far, my MIL is it. Anyone else out there? Or should I resign myself to creaking my way into my 4th decade??? (And yes, I know I should go to yoga. And if you can figure out when I could hit a yoga class when I have one or both kids with me every second of the day, I will. I swear.)

Dear Neighborhood Teens

Dear Neighborhood Teens Who Shall Remain Nameless,

I am pleased to know that you are not getting into trouble loitering downtown or shoplifting. I am even pleased to know that ringing doorbells and running away is still considered an amusing past time for the 18 and under set. In the grand scheme of things, you have picked a rather harmless Saturday night activity, and for that I applaud you.

However, I would like to request that you refrain from ringing my particular doorbell, as I have small children who go to sleep at 7pm at night. And when the doorbell rings multiple times at 7:45, all hell breaks loose over here. Of course, if your ringing of my doorbell is an indication that you are interested in coming to babysit for me, feel free to ring all you want.

Sincerely,

Chichimama

PS: You are lucky it was me and not my husband who opened the door and figured out who it was. Because he is jet-lagged and not quite as amused as I.

I've never been good with dates

A happy belated three year blogiversary to me. Hard to believe. At least this year I'm only a day late...better than a dollar short I suppose.

Another Rocking Friday Night

Tis the season of travel (or should I say the year of travel, since the season seems to have never ended) and M is currently somewhere over the midwest. At least one can hope he is somewhere over the midwest by now. So I have spent a rocking Friday night reprogramming the DVR. Y'all can oohh and ahhhh now.

Somehow overnight the kids have left behind the old television standbys of Dragon Tales and Dora the Explorer for shows like Word Girl and Word World. Both children are desperate to learn everything there is to know about words, and I spend my day reading books, signs, spelling words and trying desperately to understand what "citin" and "luk" really stands for. C is starting to read real books all on his own, and A, not one to be left behind, is trying to learn to read by brute force. So I suppose it should be no surprise that their television viewing habits are shifting accordingly.

But it was still sad to swap the shows I could recite line by line for ones that I have no real relationship with. And since these days television viewing is taking place while I am cooking dinner, I don't know that I will develop the same closeness with Word Girl as Dora and I experienced. Sniff, sniff. Dora, you will be missed.

Who knew that one could become so attached to children's TV shows? And if I am getting so worked up about Dora, I hate to think what I will do when C and A give up Frances and Frog and Toad. Although I will have no problem passing on the TtFTE books to another family.

And every once and a while, it all works out (almost)

I had a last minute meeting this afternoon for a project I am working on that the children just could not attend. So I threw myself on the mercy of Lovely Friend who agreed to take my kids in exchange for my picking up her vegetable share from the CSA. Since I was scheduled to set up for the CSA today it worked out great for me, right up until the point that the CSA delivery was late and all of a sudden I found myself dressed in meeting appropriate clothing chucking potatoes fresh out of the ground into plastic bags while frantically asking the other workers for the time as my watch kicked the bucket last night.

I bolted out of the CSA garage with sixteen minutes to spare, dragging two very disgruntled children behind me. As I buckled then into the car seats, I plotted my path to Lovely Friend's house and then to the meeting.

"OK, it is 2:59. The elementary school on the corner gets out at 3:05. If I can make it to the stop sign by 3:04, I can then cut through past the school safely. Once I get to Lovely Friend's, I need to head to the park crossing because I know the crossing guard there and he will let me through if I beg so I can make it past the junior high school dismissal. Then if I cut through the park and make the traffic light on the corner, I should make the meeting with two minutes to spare.

I made the stop sign right on schedule. I careened into Lovely Friend's driveway and pushed the children out of the car screaming "A needs a bandaid, and C has to use the bathroom! THANK YOU!" I made it to the park crossing and rolled down my window. "GENE! I have to get across! I'm late for a meeting!" Gene brought the traffic to a halt. "Go Chichimama! Go!" I made the light. I pulled into the parking lot with not two but THREE minutes to spare.

Too bad I left the meeting notes sitting atop the tomatoes...

You know you are really tired when...

You know you are really tired when you fall asleep in your dream, and when you wake up in your dream, you realize that you missed the whole damn dream. Which, according to the pink and blue polka dotted (friendly) monster who woke you up, was a rather nice one. Then you REALLY wake up, and spend the next two hours wondering what happened while you were sleeping in your dream. And why you were dreaming of pink and blue polka dotted monsters.

Go-To Recipes

So after the lasagna disaster yesterday, today I fell back on my old reliable, quiche. And as I was whipping it up, I decided to share it with you. It came from Rebecca originally, and then I doctored it as a I have a tendency to do. So I'll give you both versions, because I'm nice like that.

Rebecca's Spinach Quiche

4 Eggs (I use 2 eggs and 1/2 a cup of egg substitute
1/2 cup mayo (I use low-fat or no-fat)
1/2 cup milk (I use skim)
10 oz frozen spinach, thawed and squeezed dry (I use the 16 oz bag from Trader Joes)
8 oz shredded cheddar cheese (I use a 12 oz bag of light three cheese from TJ's)
1 onion chopped (I never include this but Rebecca swears by it)
1 ready-made pie crust (I make it crustless, just to save calories, but it IS quite good with the crust)

Mix everything together. Pour into pie crust (or pie pan sprayed with cooking spray if omitting crust). Cover with foil. Bake at 400 for 60 minutes, remove foil for last 15 minutes, if you remember.

My other go-to recipe is a Quick Shrimp Broil, adapted from a Weight Watchers recipe.

Quick Shrimp Broil

Olive oil
4 garlic cloves, minced (or two tablespoons of the already minced stuff from the store)
12 oz shrimp (I use a bag of the frozen TJ's, thawed)
1 can diced tomatoes (I used either the fire-roasted or the Italian-seasoned one)
1/2 cup white wine
Shredded Mexican blend cheese (or any kind of shredded cheese, I just tend to like a blend)

In a medium skillet heat the oil (I do a turn around the pan) and then add the garlic. Saute for about 1 minute. Add the shrimp and tomato, cook until the shrimp are done (5 minutes or so). Stir in the wine and cook for another minute or two. Remove from heat and transfer into a baking dish if your skillet can't go in the oven. Sprinkle with cheese and broil until the cheese is melted and just turning golden-brown, about 3 minutes.

Once I whip out the crockpot for the winter I'll share my all time favorite crockpot recipe as well...