Tag Archives: postaweek2011

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Step One is Stripping

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Before Photos

Finally, we are having almost the last of the wallpaper stripped from house (check out that wallpaper!). When we bought the house back in 2001, every spot of available wall space with the exception of the downstairs bathroom, master bedroom and master bathroom was covered in wallpaper. The prior owners clearly hated paint for some reason (Maybe the fumes? Couldn’t find the right color? Not enough pattern?).

Now that the kitchen/dining area has been stripped, there are 3 rooms left: the office (it’s so hideous, but we can close the door and hide it from guests), the kids’ bathroom and the laundry room. If the office is so hideous, why haven’t we done anything with it? Well, because the office will snowball into another big project because the window treatment and carpet will have to go as well as the wallpaper. Uh. . . . .I don’t want to talk about it right now. Back to my kitchen!

Stripped

I’m so excited!! After weeks of trying to convince my husband that my vision for my (I mean our) kitchen will be amazing, it’s finally happening. We are getting new walls, new countertops and refinished hardwood floors.

I had to fight for my walls though – I wanted a warm, purplish color. Mike was really resistant – he was afraid that the paint color would be lavenderish.  I finally went out and picked out the color that I had floating in my brain (my husband would come back with samples, but they just weren’t right and the ones he picked out were freaking him out!). The color was hard to describe, but I finally found it and it has a name – Gothic Amethyst (Porter Paint).  Cool name, right? We are also considering Smoky Quartz (it’s very similar, but a little warmer). Now that Mike has seen my vision of “purple”, he’s onboard.  I just had to convince him that it wasn’t going to be lavender (yuck!).  Check out the colors on the Porter Paint Color Palette.

What do you think? Which color?

The countertops took about as long as the color – we have selected Santa Cecilia Granite  for the bulk of the countertops with Cambria Quartz – Branbury (Quarry Collection – it’s reddish brown) for the island. We will have new countertops next Wednesday and new paint next Thursday. 

I’m nervous and excited.  I hope we like it when it’s done – I spend a lot of time in these rooms! I mean, this is where the culinary magic happens! Okay, not magic, but really tasty meals 🙂

However, I guess when you consider what we have been living with, anything would be better, right?

More later…..

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Still Searching

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Yesterday, I read an interesting article that showed up in my Twitter feed (thanks, JS!) – This is the Worst Career Advice You Can Get. It’s posted on the blog, Resume Bear.

The title was provocative enough that I had to read it. The premise was shocking to me. But, by the end of the article, I was nodding my head. It actually gave me peace.

As you may or may not know, I’m in the 4th year of my mid-life crisis (at what age do I have to stop calling it that and just say, “crisis”?). So, this article was timely for me. It made me feel a lot better because I don’t know what I love to do. I like to do a lot of things and am pretty sure most of them aren’t career-worthy.

As a curiosity, I did order the book mentioned in the article – Do What You Are. What am I and what should I be doing? Well, I will let you know as soon as I read the book. I can’t wait to find out!

As stated in the article, “Try stuff!” That’s what I’ve been doing over the last 4 years. I’ve tried knitting, oil painting, blogging, cooking, food blogging (fogging?), kick boxing, swimming, running, etc. Now, I’m going to add another new thing to my list – drawing. 

Yeah. . . . . while in my painting class, the realization that I was severely lacking in a critical skill became glaringly clear. I really needed to know how to draw.

Take a gander at these babies ~

So, I’ve decided to learn how to draw (so I can paint better). I’ve been having a little trouble finding a beginning drawing class for my age group (they have classes for ages 10 and under). I’ve had visions of looking like Billy Madison sitting in a tiny chair at a tiny table watching 10-yr olds blow my stick-figure family drawings out of the water!

No. Thank. You.

With that image in mind, I went to my local craft store and purchased some art books for beginners, pencils and a fancy tablet of paper. I’m going to “teach” myself for a bit until I can find an appropriate class for middle-aged break-out artists like myself.

These art “things” have been sitting on the  “fancy” dining room table calling to me, “Hey, when are you gonna open us up and start drawing?” I put them there so I didn’t have to look at them – I rarely walk into the “fancy” dining room.

Why am I so intimidated? Every time I think about drawing, I’m thrown back into my 7th grade art class with Mrs. Rose. I hated art class. I was NOT good and Mrs. Rose seemed to point that out to me on a regular basis. Now, in hindsight, was she really that insensitive? Probably not. But, my insecure 12-year-old self interpreted her comments that way. You know how certain memories stick with you?

Okay, I’m drawing my Camaro using the grid process to do so. Do you know what I mean?  You rip a picture out of a magazine and using a ruler, make grid on the picture with quarter-inch squares and then you transfer your picture to a large piece of paper with a corresponding grid – do you remember doing that? I hated that project! I thought art was tedious.

Well, to make a long story short, I drew my car which I was really proud of (it actually looked like the Camaro in the picture)! She came around to my desk and . . . . . . shot me down (I can still recall this event vividly). You see, the sun that I had drawn on the horizon was “too childish and immature-looking” (see top part of the reconstruction). I needed to make it look more “artistic and modern” (see bottom part of the paper). Ummmm….. “What about my awesome car which was the whole point of the freakin’ project?”  Not a word about my car. I thought art was subjective and up for interpretation – an open-ended question with no right answer. Apparently not.

It was that day in the year of our Lord 1978 that I decided that I hated art class and anything to do with art. In my childish brain (I was twelve), it didn’t matter what I did, apparently I wasn’t good at it. That’s when I turned to and found comfort in numbers, equations and mathematics. There was only one right answer and 99% of the time I knew how to find it.

Note to Self: Be careful what you say to your children, it can make a serious impact. I try to remind myself every day.

So, back to the present. I’m trying to break out of my insecure 12-year-old self trapped in a 45-year-old body and do some drawing! Last night I finally got the courage to break out my supplies and start sketching. I read the first chapter of one of the books and, as instructed, looked at the pictures of the model tulips, put pencil to paper and Voila! A tulip was born!

You are witness to my first sketches since 7th grade art class. Behold!

Only reassuring and artistic-talent-confirming comments and opinions please. I’m still a little fragile. Of course, the hubs and the kids “said” that the sketches were “good” and “not bad”. I have a good support team.

I’m supposed to sketch about 20 minutes a day – practice makes better (I can’t say perfect in this scenario). It’s hard to find that much free time (I’m supposed to be working out 30 minutes a day too), but I’m going to make an effort.

Here’s to breaking out and trying new things!

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The 2011 Poetry Cafe – Oh, Snap!

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Can I say that kids are amazing? They are really quite capable of doing more than we give them credit for.

This morning I attended the 2011 Poetry Cafe held by my son’s class. Each of the students worked in a group of 2 to 5 kids to perform an established work and then each student individually read an original work. As in the tradition of Poetry Cafes of the 60s, we snapped in appreciation instead of clapping after each performance. Very cool and hip.

By the way, the poetry created by these kids was really, really good (they are 10 & 11 yrs old!) and they deserved all of the snaps!

The following work is an original poem by Jack.  He did not perform this particular work this morning, but it is my favorite from his poetry book (see above) that he has been keeping since 4th Grade (all of the students in his class do this).

Self Poem

by Jack / Sep 22, 2010

My skin is like a ghost, pale and drifting.

My eyes are like the ocean, calm, blue and green.

My eyelashes are thick and ink black like a crow’s feathers.

My smile is like a daisy, it brightens people up.

My heart holds a happiness that burns inside me like a roaring fire.

I live in a steakhouse and eat everything. 

**SNAP-SNAP-SNAP**

I don’t remember doing cool stuff like this when I was in grade school! Do you?

I’m really glad I was able to attend this morning. It was a real treat.

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Inappropriate Dinner Topics for Children

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Well, well, well. We had an interesting dinner tonight – it was just 4 of us ’cause Rachel had to work (we decided that this conversation would have taken a completely different turn had she been present. A lot of “Oh My God-ing! This is not appropriate! I’m leaving!”)

We were just shootin’ the breeze about my husband’s work  and I was joking with him that the only reason he invites me to work social functions is because I can talk to anyone (I mean it. If I can’t get you talking about something, then, well, you just might be boring and hopeless). I’m the uber-social side of our twosome. 

Then, Maddie (14 yo) chimed in with, “Mommy, he invites you because you’re his trophy wife.”  Awe, isn’t she sweet? After Mike and I stopped laughing, we explained that I’m not really a trophy wife.

Maybe you’re wondering, “What is the definition of a trophy wife?” Mike shared with the table that, according to ESPN (apparently experts on trophy wives), the age of a trophy wife equals half of the age of the husband plus 5 years.

Thus, AofTW = AofH/2 + 5

I thought to myself,“Okay, I’ll buy that.”

Are you “Modern Family” fans? We are! Maddie, starting to get the gist of a trophy wife, wondered if Gloria counted as a trophy wife. Mike reflected that Gloria was probably 35 years old and Jay was likely 6o years old, so the math would work. Maddie nodded her head like, “A-ha”.

Then, the kids started calculating the age of Mike’s actual trophy wife. Daddy confirmed with the kids that he was indeed, 46. So the kids started doing the math….”Hmmm…half of 46 is 23 plus 5 equals 28. Daddy’s trophy wife would be 28 years old!”.

Thus, confirming that I’m not daddy’s trophy wife.

Then, the kids started calculating how old my husband would be if I were the trophy wife.  Whoa, the head calculators were humming!  Jack was talking through the math process aloud along with Maddie and came to the conclusion that my got-rocks hubs would be 80 years old (I’m 45).

We were all giggling and laughing about my “old hubs” and then Jack (11 yo), while snorting and guffawing, asks, “What are we talking about?”

Then, we all started laughing!!!

We, again explained the concept of the trophy wife to Jack. And, then he says, “Mommy, are you going to blog about this?” I was already two steps ahead of that boy!

Mike told the kids that they will likely never encounter a story problem like this one on their math tests. So, true.

But, we did come up with a story problem for all of you based on the premise that the age of the Trophy Wife equals half of the age of the Husband plus 5 years. Here it is:

Hubby and Wifey divorce and both are age 45. Wifey remarries and becomes a trophy wife to her New Love. The Hubby remarries a Trophy Wife of his own. What is the difference in the ages of the New Love and the New Trophy Wife?

The person with the right answer gets a free subscription to The Engledow Chronicles!

By the way, my son came up with the title of this post. Kinda sad, right?

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Mommy, I Already Looked in There!

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Yesterday was one of those days. Yep, it was my monthly “What if I just ran away?” day. Does everyone have these days, or is it just me? If it’s just me, don’t tell me. I’d like to think I’m not alone. I just picture myself getting in Mike’s Sporty Acura (leaving him the Minivan) and driving off into the sunset….

I’d been on the run from the time I got up until the time I got home from work. I usually get home about two minutes before Jack gets off of the bus, but some days he beats me home.  When this happens, he’s supposed to call me. I got a call yesterday:

Me & Jack:  ‘Hey, Bud!” “Hey, Mommy.”

Me:  “I’ll be home in 4 minutes. What’s your homework like?”

Jack:  “The obvious project (reading journal), math and spelling. Uh, mommy?”

Me:  “Yeah, Bud.”

Jack:  “Uh, well, I lost my reading journal. I got to the bus stop and my backpack was unzipped. It might have fallen out.”

Side Note: Ah, the reading journal. It’s our twice-a-quarter torture. He is required to read two books a quarter and write about them in a particular composition notebook (there are rules and a required structure). He has to write almost 3 pages each time. He LOVES reading and HATES writing. So, he usually waits until the last minute (like this time) and it’s about a 3 hour ordeal. BTW, the due dates are stated at the beginning of the school year – these are not surprise assignments.

Me:  “What??? You walked out of the house with a completely unzipped backpack on your back, and you think that the composition notebook fell out?”

Side Note: Really?  How in the hell do you not notice that your backpack is unzipped and splayed open while you’re putting it on your back!?

Jack:  “Yeah, but I noticed it was open when I got to the bus stop (it’s two houses down).”

Me:  “You zipped it up then, right?” {Please say, ‘yes.’}

Jack:  “Yes.”

Me:  “Well, it couldn’t have gone far. It has to be in the garage or somewhere between the house and the bus stop. When I get home, you can go hunt for it.”

Jack:  “Okay, Mommy.”

When I got home, the Great Composition Notebook Hunt was on! While he searched outside, I searched the backpack (even though it had already been searched “thoroughly”). OMG – that backpack looked like a bomb had gone off in it. I’ve been trying to take a somewhat hands off approach this year to try to ease both him and me into his first year of junior high next year. If you haven’t read my prior posts, I can be somewhat of micro-manager. In this spirit of being “hands off” I haven’t been checking his backpack (this is HUGE for me). He needs to learn be responsible, right?

How’s that hands-offy-thingy working out for us? Apparently, not well! There were lots of papers in there – some graded (all A’s – darn good thing) and some informational items for the parents (that are past due). {Silent Scream} Guess what else was in there? Yep, the reading journal aka composition notebook. When he said he looked in the backpack, who’s backpack did he look in? Did he even really look? I guess we need to go over the definition of a “thorough search”.

Crisis averted. Jack began working on his journal entry.

Then, I had to pay the bills. Ugh. It always makes me grumpy. I’m getting into the groove and then….everyone else started coming home. “Mommy, can I go workout at the Monon? Mommy, when’s dinner because I’m going to walk the dog. Mommy, what’s for dinner? Mommy, what time do we need to leave for my band meeting?”

The hubs came home early to save me (okay, not really). It was just my good fortune. Could he please take Jack to the band meeting? Yes, he will. It’s a damn good thing because I’m on Mommy overload and he just brought home my get-a-way car. I could have been gone in a blink, but I had decided to scrubbed the escape plan for the time being.

Since I decided to stick around, I made Jack and Mike scrambled eggs and toast for dinner so they could skedaddle (you don’t hear that word very often do you?). Then Rachel came home from working out and Maddie walked in the door with Jasper. “When’s dinner?” “What’s for dinner?”

Before I could answer, they took one look at their poor mother and volunteered to make their own dinners (smart girls). Sometimes it takes awhile, but eventually their Spidy-senses kick in.

Tomorrow is always another day 🙂

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Lost Flowers and Life Plans

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Talking with my kids can be so very entertaining. Have I said that before? It seems that the funniest conversations occur mostly in the car (sometimes at the dinner table). I guess it’s because we spend a lot of time driving the kids hither and yon.

Here are snippets of some recent car talks.

Allegory & Virginity

All five of us are in the car on the way to one of Jack’s Orff concerts when Rachel starts telling a funny story about her fashion teacher (whom she loves, by the way) – Mrs. Fashion shared with them an allegory (or parable – a symbolic narrative) before they left on spring break. This particular parable was intended to communicate to the girls (there are no boys in her class) that they should value their virginity and not to give it away to just anyone. {Something about a girl handing out flowers to anyone and everyone – I can’t quite recall the whole thing.}

When she finished telling us the “story”, I asked her, “She’s talking about virginity, right?” I wanted to confirm with Ray that her fashion teacher was actually talking to the class about virginity. That’s a little unusual, right? I don’t remember my high school teachers talking to me about that, but, then again, I didn’t take sewing class (oops! I mean, fashion).  

I couldn’t really argue with the point that Mrs. Fashion was trying to make.

Anyway, back to the car. . . . . .Rachel, now embarrassed by my inquiry, answered in true teenage fashion, “Oh My God, Mommy! Yes, that’s what it means. Why do you always do that?”  It was something like that.  She knows me pretty well by now, so why did she risk it? It must be her immature frontal lobe (as she repeatedly reminds us).

Jack, sitting patiently throughout this whole discussion, asks, “What is virginity?”.

Now, I’m not one to shy away from a question. I’d rather the kids hear the answers from me or Mike than someone else.  And, “they” say that when kids ask the questions, parents need to provide them with thoughtful, age-appropriate, honest answers. Right?

However, Rachel and Maddie immediately put the kibosh on the impromptu sex talk with excessive “Oh My God-ing” and ” Mommy, not NOW-ing”.  It’s almost become a game now. You know, the game known as How Quickly Can I Get My Girls to Say, “OMG”?  It’s really almost too easy, but still fun.

I told Jack that daddy would talk to him later about it (I can’t verify that this ever happened).

The Life Plan

Last Friday, Jack and I were in the car going to the doctor about his allergies (allergy season sucks!). He is an uber talker especially when his sisters are MIA. I usually just have to nod my head or say, “uh-huh” and he can keep on talking and talking and ……..

On this  particular day, I got a peek into that 11-yr-old brain of his. He has his whole life planned out and it revolves around basketball, Hoop Dreams, if you will. My 4 foot 10 inch boy, told me:

“First, I have to make the Junior High team.  Mommy, do you think I can make the Junior High team?”

“Then, I’m going to make the High School team, play for some college and then get picked up by the Pacers.”

Mike repeatedly tells me to quit asking him what Plan B is – a kid needs to have his dreams. I’m just supposed to listen.  Okay, he’s right.

 So instead, I just asked Jack , “What are you  going to study in college, buddy?”  (that doesn’t sounds dream-squashing, does it?)

“I think I’m going to study quantum physics. [huh?]  I’m not sure what that is but I really like physics. Physics is cool.”

He really makes me smile. I don’t know about you, but when I was 11 I’m not sure I even knew the word “physics”, let alone “quantum physics”! Of course, with the internet, the History Channel and Mythbusters the world is much bigger place now.

 

I hope you enjoyed this installment of  The Engledow Chats!

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Lists, Et Cetera, & So Forth

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This week, I’ve been on a roll! I’ve finally started to cross the “big” things off of my To Do list that I created on January 24th. What day is it today? Oh, yeah, APRIL 8th!

What did I accomplish from the original* list?

*What do I mean by original? I wanted to go back to Jan 24th list to see what I’ve actually accomplished. To Do Lists are living, breathing, ever-evolving entities, aren’t they? If I put my current as-of-today list in this post (see pic), it would be too long and bore you to tears. Come to think of it, maybe this old list is making you want to stab yourself in the eye with the nearest writing utensil. If that’s the case, then maybe this post isn’t for you.

1. Bio for work website – Done! I finally finished that in early February because I had a serious deadline.  The updated page is up and running – by the way, I sound awesome (those website writers are creative)!

2. Call the Carpet Cleaners – Done! They came out in February.

3. Start my running program again – I’ve kinda started.  I went running the other day with my daughter. How did it go? I couldn’t sit or stand for the next two days without groaning because my thighs were on fire!  Walking was fine, but any transition from sitting to standing (and visa versa) was, well, a struggle. Apparently, I should have taken it easier the first time running after being on sabbatical.  (Note to self: try not to act like a 20-year-old when you’re really a 40-something-year-old).

4. Make doctor appointments for everyone (including self) – this is where I’ve finally made some headway!

Item #4:

I know, I know . . . I’m talking about my doctor appointments – this is one of the items on my list that I swore not to do as I age. To hell with the list.

Eye Doctor – Done!

Rachel and I finally went to the eye doctor – yeah, that was fun. I had to finally come face-to-face with the fact that I had to order some bifocals. I’ve been wearing monovision contacts for the last year during the day (one eye for up close, one eye for distance), but using my old glasses at night which wasn’t bad at first. THEN, it became annoying as hell because I couldn’t do puzzles while watching TV (I felt like this happened over night!). I had to lift up my glasses every time to see my puzzle, then put them back on my nose to see the TV.  My left arm looks like Popeye’s now because of all of the arm lifts completed over the last year! Why did I wait this long? Oh, hell, I didn’t want to hear it AND I didn’t want to spend $350 on a new pair of glasses!

Anyway, it’s done. I get my new glasses next week – maybe I’ll post a picture later.

Mammogram – Done!

The other appointment? It’s a little overdue – I got the reminder in September 2010.  Reminder for what? My annual mammogram. Yay! I finally had my exam today.  B-I-G fun.  Nothing does more for the 33-year-old boobs (I didn’t get them until I was 13) than a good old fashioned flattening!

Mammograms are definitely a necessary evil and I know that I shouldn’t put it off. But, I know a lot of you can relate – you get so wrapped up in taking care of everyone else, that you just don’t take care of yourself.

I excel at that.

Can I share a little bit of my appointment with you today? As most of us know (and the men can imagine), it’s an uncomfortable, barbaric, and painful ritual. I usually wince while holding my breath during the whole ordeal (and they do instruct you to hold your breath – like you need to be told that!). While wincing (which is constant throughout the entire exam), the tech doing the mammogram asked me what I thought was a very strange question –

Tech: “Are your breasts always this tender?”

Me (huh?): “Well, only while they’re being smashed between two panes of glass.”

Tech: “Oh, sure. There’s no chance that you’re pregnant, right?”

Me (I would be sobbing if that were so): “Nope.”

Tech: “I just wanted to make sure.”

I have to take a poll. Am I the only one that winces? Does everyone else stand there with smiles or stoic expressions on their faces while the girls are being tortured?  She does this to women all day long and thinks my reaction is abnormal?

Now, I’m anxious about my results. I have a week to worry – great.  That’s all I need. I’ve never had an abnormal result, but I’ve never been asked that question before either.

I still have a couple of other appointments to yet to make, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m making progress on the list. However, today’s exam kind of freaked me out, so I may procrastinate just a tad bit longer (not too much) on the other appointments if you don’t mind.

Girls, we need to take care of ourselves – no one else is going to do it! Let’s make a pact – wait. . . . pacts never really work. But, let’s at least make a promise to work harder at taking care of ourselves by adding ourselves to our lists!

Pinky Promise……

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My Hoarder in Training

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I have a confession to make, I think we have a hoarder in training (HiT) in our house. Yeah, I know. Scary.

Is there any hope? What can we do? Anything?

It began at early age, and I when I look back to her early years,  I know I ignored the early warning signs. Both of us did. And, these red flags continue today, but now it’s too late. There’s no goin’ back.

Sign #1

The HiT was a toddler, maybe 2 years old and it was a typical weekday morning. I was in a hurry, as usual, because my morning routine involved dropping her off at daycare and then driving in rush hour traffic 30 minutes to get to my downtown office. Argghhh, this was not the morning to misplace my keys. Frick! Where could they be? (Our house was about 900 square feet – there weren’t a lot of hiding places for keys in our first house.)

I was racing around like a mad-woman looking for my keys and beginning to panic, getting the cold sweats, panting (my boss at the time was not that understanding). If I remember correctly, the hubs hadn’t left yet, so I took his key to my car and his house key because I usually got home first.

Off I went (without my keys), tried to get something done at work (while being distracted by my key dilemma), picked up the HiT from daycare , went home and probably started dinner. I don’t know if it was that night or a couple of days from that fateful day, but eventually we did find my keys. Where?

Well, in my daughter’s little pink Fisher-Price plastic purse. Of course! Why didn’t I look there first :)?

What made me finally open her purse? I really have no idea. But, Mike and I found a random assortment of items in that purse – my keys, a coaster, some of her small toys. Things that she just picked up as she strolled through the house like a bag lady.

After that, when anything went missing, we looked in all of her bags, backpacks and purses.

Sign #2

When she was a little older, maybe 7 ish, I bought her a package of gummy Life Savers. Have you ever seen one of these packages? The gummies come in a plastic tray which holds them individually (kind of like an egg carton).

This is a reconstruction of the conversation that occurred later in her bedroom (I think we were cleaning it up or going through her clothes):

Me: “HiT, when you’re done with your candy, you need to  throw the this away (holding the tray and wrapper). It’s trash.”

HiT: “Mommy, it’s not trash!  I think the tray is cool.  I may need it for something later like for a project.”

Me: “Honey, this is trash.  I really don’t think you should keep it. Will you keep every tray?”

HiT: “Mommy! No, I won’t. I promise. Just this one.”

I walked out of her bedroom shaking my head and thinking, “Oh, no!”

Other hoarding evidence as she has gotten older:

She loves, loves, loves antique stores (can’t leave a store without buying something – last purchase, which was yesterday, was a ceramic owl (huh?). “Mommy, it was only a dollar!”)

She is a shopaholic (shoes, clothes, scarves, fingernail polish (even though she has no nails to speak of), purses, etc.) 

She buys about 5 pairs of sunglasses each summer

I bet she has a purse for every other day of year (I may be exaggerating a bit.)

She says that when she is older, she wants to live on a farm (chuckle!) so she can own multiple dogs, and other barnyard animals

She loves watching the following shows: American Pickers, Extreme Couponing (on TLC). I will admit that she hasn’t started watching Hoarding: Buried Alive (on TLC). On second thought,. . . . maybe she should.

Um, she “cleaned” out her room and produced four grocery bags of stuff for Goodwill. I was thrilled…..until I looked in her room. It. Looked. Exactly. The. Same. (Oh, Powers That Be, help us!)

Now, I will tell you that I think it runs in her genetic code (NOT from my side). My husband is a reformed hoarder (like a 2 on a scale of 1-10). I, as you might imagine, don’t hold on to much (I totally get this from my dad). I keep what is necessary and toss the rest (I do keep some keepsakes – I’m not completely dead inside). 

My favorite “hoarder” story on the hubs: The hubs graduated from college in the Spring of 1988 and we got married in February of 1991. When we moved into our apartment and merged our stuff, it was a revelation for both of us.  We rented a 2-bedroom apartment and used the extra bedroom for stuff we didn’t know what to do with.  One day, we started going through the room in preparation for the move into our FIRST HOUSE and there, sitting innocently, was his backpack.

It still looked full. Wait, it was still heavy. What was in there? (Mine was cleaned out the day after graduation and has remained empty since). I hurry and open it wondering what awaited me . . . .there are textbooks, notebooks and something that is round, black and hard.  What the hell is it? It rattled when I shook it. Maybe some ancient Indian musical instrument?

I show Mike his backpack and apparently it’s a time capsule of his last day of school, literally. On the last day of college, he just moved his backpack “as is” to his first apartment shared with his BFF, Jud, and then this backpack moved (undisturbed) to his second apartment (where he lived alone) and then it moved to its final destination – our first apartment. The round, dark, black thing that rattles? An orange. Yep, an orange that petrified in his backpack.

Oh, my. Our HiT comes by it honestly.

I do love that girl so much and she cracks me up when she talks about all of the dogs, and possibly the cow, she is going to own on her farm, etc. She promises us that her dorm room and subsequent apartment won’t be buried in ceramic owls when she is on her own – Mike and I just laugh to ourselves especially when we see the trail of evidence  that she leaves throughout the house……..

Both Mike and I have told her that we just don’t want to find her literally buried in her farmhouse under piles of stuff! She has assured us that she won’t bury herself alive.

We’ll just have to see 🙂

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Welcome Back, Mommy!

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Tuesday night, both Mike and I were so happy to be home and we really missed the kids. But, the annual anniversary trip is a must for us (I think every marriage could benefit from it).

It’s such a great opportunity to re-connect, to flirt, be silly, be spontaneous, and be relaxed with your spouse. We started these trips on our first anniversary (instead of buying each other gifts) and have not missed one in twenty years. They haven’t always been elaborate, but they have all been adventures. I’m glad we started this tradition – they have become more meaningful as our lives have become more complicated and busy.

I do want to give a shout out to my parents and my in-laws because we could not go on these trips without them! They are in charge of the monkeys when we are gone which (I hope) has gotten a little easier since the monkeys can mostly take care of themselves now. It’s also a great time for our kids to get to spend some intense time with their grandparents (I am always reminding my kids how lucky they are to see their grandparents on a regular basis – not all kids get to develop this relationship.)

But, after the “welcome home”, reality began to set in. After being in airports/planes for 14 hours on Tuesday and coming home to the greetings, hugs and kisses (at 9pm), real life started invading already. I didn’t even have time to enjoy the after-glow of my awesome wine country vacation.

“Mommy, we need to go shopping for my trip. When are we going to go?”

“Mommy, you need to read this booklet about my trip.”

“Mommy, when are we going to AT&T to get my new phone?”

“Mommy, you need to complete my medical form by tomorrow.”

“Mommy, blah, blah, ……….”

Yikes! Then I start thinking,“Why aren’t you people in bed yet?” I was very tired and starting to get grumpy. I mean, I had only been home for about 45 minutes!! Then, I started feeling like a bad parent for wishing I was still in California. (Is it just me, or does anyone else experience this?)

I wanted to go back in time when I was longing to see my munchkins and envisioning them running toward me greeting me with big smiles, hugs and kisses.  . . . . . . ..  And, then the kids would go straight up to bed (with smiles) because it was a school night…… And, the house would be sparkling and straightened up because my children would have anticipated how tired I would be.  Aaaahh…. Oh, wait, did I start daydreaming again? Sorry about that!

I think I’m suffering from PVRL (post vacation real life). For some reason, I’m having a lot of trouble making the transition from this vacation back to real life.  It was so relaxing – we didn’t have to be anywhere at any time. We were livin’ free and easy and acting like we had money to spend. It was so fun! Mike and I were even speculating about retiring in Sausalito (and we are die-hard mid-westerners)!

Now, it’s back to work, schedules, taxi duty, etc.  There has been no time to ease into it. We both had to work the next day, my daughter had a piano lesson and soccer practice and my son had an Orff concert.

Laundry has been calling, bills need paying, the house needs straightening. . . . . . .I’m coming! I’M COMING!

SHEESH!

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Fear & Manipulation: A Mother’s Trade Secret

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My kids bought me a book for Christmas and I love it. I love it so much that I feel the need to share it with you.

It makes me laugh aloud when I’m reading it (if your child takes piano lessons at that place on Old Meridian on Wednesdays, then,”yes”, I’m the nut that sits there by myself reading and laughing). I can’t control it. I don’t think I’ve ever read a book that made me lose control like this. It’s weird.

The book is Raising the Perfect Child through Guilt and Manipulation by Elizabeth Beckwith. I wish I was part of a book club that was reading it so I could discuss it with people. She has already prepared some interesting discussion questions for us at the end of each chapter! (Sample discussion question from Chapter 3: “What are some fears that are healthy to impose upon your own child?”)

You may be thinking that I should be a little pissed that my kids thought of me when they saw the title of the book, but I’m not. They know their mommy (they all still call me this, even my junior) pretty well.

I’m only on Chapter 8 (out of 11), but I’ve already decided that Elizabeth and I could be close friends if we lived in the same area. I love her sense of humor.

So far, my favorite Chapter is #3:  How to Scare the Crap Out of Your Child (in a Positive Way). I read this chapter and was nodding my head throughout the whole thing (while laughing, of course).

Here is an excerpt from Chapter 3. She has a chart in the book of a scenario, the typical parent response, and the recommended alternative.

Sample from the chart:

Scenario:  “I’m thinking of getting a tattoo.”

Popular Response: “You’re not getting a tattoo and that’s final!”

Alternative Response: “A tattoo is forever, you know. You want to be ninety years old with a sun on your lower back? Remember what happened to Gary up the block? He got a tattoo, and next thing you know the poor kid’s got hepatitis.”

Then, she follows the chart with, “All roads lead to death. That was my mantra as a child.”

I can relate to this a lot. Not so much with my own parents, but with my maternal grandma (right, Beth?). Elizabeth’s mom reminds me a little bit of my grandma Helen. She didn’t have the hard edge of the author’s mother, but she had Chapter 3 down pat but in a softer way.

My sister and I used to stay with my grandparents for two weeks out of every summer.  They lived two states away (in WV) and it was a way for us to get to hang with them more. I remember one time I was running out of the house barefoot (I never wore shoes as kid) with my WV-friends and as I was leaving the house I grabbed a Coke. This is back in day when Cokes were still in glass bottles. 

I could hear my grandma yelling after me, “Jennifer, should you take that coke bottle with you? Be careful with that! Maybe you should put some shoes on! You’ll drop that bottle and then step on the glass and slice your foot open!!!”

I will say that I ignored her advice that day and still ran with the killer coke bottle while remaining shoeless, BUT, I was always mindful of NOT dropping the coke bottle so they wouldn’t have to amputate my useless foot later.

Grandma Helen was definitely a trendsetter. Back in the ’70s, she was already scaring the crap out of her grandchildren in positive way. Still to this day, I can’t look at a glass container of any sort without thinking about impending doom and an emergency room visit.

You can ask my kids – I’ve taken on Grandma Helen’s tactics that way. They will attest to the fact that I can link any activity to serious danger or death if given enough time. I do try to control myself a bit because I don’t want them to be completely neurotic. Fortunately, they also have a father that is the complete opposite and can balance me out a bit.

Well, I need to get back to my book. Won’t someone else pick up a copy so I have someone to laugh with? Surely, someone else out there can read this book with a knowing nod thinking (and laughing), “Yep, I already do that!” -or- “Wow, I need to try that.” -or- “Whoa, Elizabeth’s mom could have been mine!”.