Do NOT try this at home...

I don't recall seeing that on the schedule...

2007-10-10T12:26:00.000-04:00

Friday afternoon I'm walking Thing 1 home from the bus stop and asking the standard 'so what did you do today in school?'. Well, he says, I got married!

Uh, say again?

He then proudly shows me a plastic ring with the word "love" on it that he's wearing.

You didn't kiss her, did you?

Yup - when the teacher was in the supply closet.

His father's genes are already causing me problems...

Why I really should stick to the drive thru

2007-10-05T15:39:00.000-04:00

On Fridays Thing 2 doesn't have school so we get to hang out together. In the bank today a woman in line behind me says "oh - he's so cute! How old is he?" So I answer, and then she starts talking to him. Finally she stops, but tells me "Oh, what a sweetie!". My son immediately comes back over to me and says in the loudest voice possible "Mom! I want to smell your butt!" I then spend the next 60 seconds trying to explain to him that butt smelling is inappropriate while he tries to (yes, you guessed it) get to my rear end for a sniff. Now never before has he tried to do this to me (and hopefully he never will again). But as I look over at the lady who was just talking to him I can just see her thinking "Hmmm...Perhaps he's not so cute after all..."

I'm Baaaackkk!

2007-10-04T19:27:00.000-04:00

Okay, so it's been awhile...and people are starting to wonder what is going on. The truth is I met another man online and left my husband and kids to go live with him. He's a Hungarian opera singer who enjoys sushi, long walks on the beach, and laughter. Then I found out my long lost identical twin sister needed a kidney transplant, so I was laid up after the operation. You believe me, right?

No? Fine, fine, you got me. The real truth isn't nearly so interesting though. I stopped blogging because I just had way to much other crap on my plate. You know, perhaps "crap on my plate" isn't a great expression to use - sounds kinda gross. My priorities were re-aligned, or is it re-adjusted...maybe re-focused? UHH, I'm so out of practice with this writing thing. Plus I haven't thought about what I was going to say so you're getting "stream of conscious Steph" which can be a very, very, ugly thing.

So what's been going on around here? Well Thing 1 is officially a Kindgergartener. I offer up my praises to the superintendant and whoever else is responsible for our town having full day Kindergarten. Yes, my son gets on the bus at 8:50 am and doesn't return home until 3:50 pm...and it is a beautiful thing! He loves school, his teacher, and his new friends. Thing 2 is attending preschool (also held at our local elementary school) and gets to ride the short bus from our home to school in the afternoon. Yes my friends, I get 3 HOURS TO MYSELF four days a week. 12 HOURS OF BLISS!!! Except...

That my CPA workload has gotten quite heavy lately. This is good (think cold hard cash) but bad (think very dirty house). But at least I now have some time to be a professional without having to worry about anyone screaming for another Capri Sun in the background...

Nurse Hottie is still both a nurse and hot. He's become quite obsessed with a game called "World of Warcraft" and when he's not doing that, he's driving around the area looking at boats. See, he's been trying to convince me that we need to buy one. He has me pretty well worn down, because although I know he'll be spending all sorts of money on "boat crap" it's something we can do as a family so it won't irritate me as much as money spent on "truck crap".

That's all for now. I promise I won't take as long to post again.

8 Things About Me...

2007-08-08T14:08:00.000-04:00

So this seems to be a popular thing to do on blogs - write 8 random things about yourself. Then you tag someone else and they do the same. Given that I only have about 3 readers that have their own blogs, I'm going to forego the tagging part. I will, without further ado, now share 8 random things about moi...

1. Both Thing 1 and Thing 2 were born at 5:19 (one in the am and one in the pm). They were also both 8 pounds 1 ounce. I have no clue as to how long they were since they didn't bother being the same length - really that was too much info for me to retain.

2. I love football. LOVE it. I participate in a gambling pool each year (which is totally illegal - but I'm sure the Feds have better things to do with their time) with myself, Lambette, and 20 plus other guys. Either Lambette or I always kick ass and I know it bugs the shit out of these guys to lose to a woman.

3. I feel guilty about charging my clients for my services. I know that's foolish but I just feel like they shouldn't have to pay for something that is so inherently easy for me. Then again, if it was easy for them they'd do it themselves...but still.

4. I have a totally functional family. I'm one of five children, we all support one another (we have out little spats for sure, but nothing major), my parents kick ass and are incredibly loving and helpful. I seriously hit the lottery when it came to my family.

5. I love to dance. I can't hear music without dancing to it.

6. When I was a kid I wanted to go be a whale trainer at Seaworld. I still think that would be a fantastic job.

7. My maid of honor had to tell me lines from Wayans Brother movies before I walked down the aisle to settle me down. I just got really emotional and looked her in the face and said "make me laugh now!". So she starts spouting out lines. So one of wedding day memories is now her yelling "I hate black pepper!" at me.

8. I watch reality tv. I'm a total whore too - I'll try any show once. Right now I'm ADDICTED to Big Brother. And I'm ashamed to admit I'm watching that Rock of Love show with Bret Michaels (every rose has it's thorn...). It's basically him dating a bunch of strippers and groupies. I think Bret's next stint will be Celebrity Fit Club - and if it is I'm sure I'll be watching!

I hope...

2007-08-05T23:04:00.000-04:00

I hope my friend that is expecting her 3rd child goes into labor ASAP.

I hope that Thing 2 realizes that the odds of me finding a birthday cake that features both Pooh Bear and a giant monster on it are slim to none.

I hope that my fear of driving over large bridges doesn't get any worse.

I hope that ND crushes BC this year, since my sister just gave my dad tix for that game as his birthday present.

I hope that Thing 1 always dances with the fervor that he demonstrated last night.

I hope my aunt's cancer has gone away.

I hope that my hairdresser doesn't actually carry out her threat to make me bald the next time she cuts my hair.

I hope this insomnia I've been suffering from as of late goes away.

I hope Nurse Hottie's tires and wheels come in soon...and that he's able to keep his promise to stop obsessing about "his mistress" (for at least a few weeks - I am realistic!).

I hope Nurse Hottie and I still look at each other after 40 yrs together the way my parents looked at each other last night.

Note for those who don't know me - yes, that's me slow dancing with Thing 1. My parents are dancing to the left of me - I could have cropped it but I wanted to keep the picture with them in there as well.

Weekly Rant - An Eye for an Eye

2007-08-03T16:53:00.000-04:00

There are a lot of people out there who do horrible things. I know that - I hate it - but I know that. I worked as a volunteer mentor for 2 years in a juvenile prison back in VA. I learned firsthand that there are criminals, and there are CRIMINALS. Some people do horrible things because they simply don't know any better. Their personal life experience has shown them that crime pays, so they committed crimes. I'm not saying they were correct, but I can see how they went down the path they went down. Then there are other people who are, for lack of a better description, just mean. They enjoy hurting others. Those were the young men who scared me.

I find myself swaying from time to time back and forth on the death penalty issue, and it's primarily due to my experience in the juvenile facility. However, there is one crime that I think deserves the death penalty. And that is when someone murders a child. Specifically when perpetrated by the parent of that child.

So I propose the following - if you kill your child, you will be killed. In exactly the same manner that you murdered your offspring. If you drown the child, you shall be drowned. Beat them to death, we beat your ass to death, if you starved them, we starve you, etc. etc.

I was discussing this topic with one of my sisters and she felt that my method didn't work well if someone poisoned their child. After all, that possibly wasn't a very painful way to die...

Therefore I propose that if you poison your child, we will put you and jail and poison you. Except we won't tell you when. That way you can be terrified at every meal. Like you deserve to be.

My Worst Fear

2007-07-31T16:40:00.000-04:00

So last night Nurse Hottie and I sat down and watched the movie "Premonition". You know, the one with Sandra Bulloch where she wakes up one day and her husband dies in an accident, then wakes up the next day and he's alive...and basically she's trying to figure out what day it is and how to save her husband.

Note: In case you want to see this movie I'm not going to spoil it for you, (at least I don't think) so you can keep reading.

This movie was, quite honestly, the worst one I'd seen in a LONG time. There is probably 30 minutes of film dedicated to watching Sandra's character do laundry and clean the house. Seriously. No Bullshit. 30 minutes of this crap. Okay, cut to the point where she starts waking up on different days in time. She's at the funeral. Since she can't figure out why she's waking up one day and he's alive, the next he's dead, she does the obvious thing - yells at the funeral director to open the casket. Dammit - she wants to see the dead body! So, of course, the pall bearers "accidentally" drop the casket while taking it out of the hearse. At which point it opens and her husband's head falls out and starts rolling down the street. Again - seriously, no bullshit. This scene had me laughing my ass off. And it only got worse from there...

The disturbing part of this is that it brought up some serious fears for me (and here comes the point of this post). I find that there are moments where I am terrified for my children's safety - where it hits me really hard that something horrible could happen to them in the future and I could lose them. I do realize that protecting them and keeping them safe at all times is not a possibility (side note - if you ask either of my boys what my job is their response is "to keep us safe"). But there are times when I literally feel ill from the worry that some day I could lose them. It's not rational, but it happens to me. And pretty regularly.

So here's my question - is this normal? I know that Nurse Hottie is concerned about the safety of the boys, but he also doesn't get upset like I do. Maybe it's a mommy thing? Or maybe I need medication... :)

Weekly Rant...watch your language!

2007-07-29T19:14:00.000-04:00

I attended a demolition derby this week with the boys at our local county fair. It was extremely crowded but I finally managed to find a spot on the bleachers. Unfortunately sitting directly behind me was a teenager who was saying things like "so I went to the fucking beach yesterday...used my parents fucking beach sticker, it was fucking hot...but the fucking water was fucking frigid..." You get the picture. I was trying to figure out how to say something without sounding like a jerk when the gentleman next to me (who actually didn't have any kids with him) turned around and asked the teen to curb his language, given that there were a lot of little kids who could hear him. I could have hugged this guy! The teen stopped swearing and I stopped stressing about it.

But this is a pet peeve of mine. Now, to be very honest, about the only word you will never hear from my lips is the "N-word". I can curse with the best of them. But I recognize that there is are times and places where certain language is not acceptable. Unfortunately there seems to be a large population of our society that doesn't realize this. It saddens me that although I would love to take my children to professional baseball and football games some day, I'm not sure that they are going to have a completely positive experience simply because so many spectators don't care to watch their language when out in public. I know that Fenway now has special "kid friendly" sections in the park (interestingly enough - those sections ban alcohol consumption for mom and dad). But what does it say about us as a society when we have to designate areas for this purpose? At what point did we decide that it was okay to swear, openly and loudly, in public?

You know what else bothers me - television. I remember when HBO used to only show R-rated movies after 8 pm. Now they show adult programming all day long. The word "bitch" is now completely acceptable during daytime programming, and the word "ass" is on it's way to acceptability as well. Yeah yeah, I know it's the parent's job to ensure that their children aren't watching inappropriate programs. I just wonder why we all can't do our best to limit what they can see during hours that they are obviously likely to be watching tv.

New ND Recruitment Poster

2007-07-24T14:41:00.000-04:00

Do we look good or what?

I have officially been appointed alumni-student contact person for our new local area ND Club. So I will be reaching out into the local high schools and making very clear the evils of BC and how ND is a way, WAAAAY, better school to attend. I give you our new recruiting poster as Exhibit A. I'd like to think of us as the new four horsemen (or horsewomen, depending on how PC you are).

Now, I should confess how I got this appointment. See, I would describe the average club member as Nursing Home-esque. In fact, at the original meeting, one member was telling the group about how his dad was an alumni too. Not so unusual, except his dad graduated in 1922...

So, since I was frequently mistaken as "so and so's granddaughter" at the meeting, and I also was a "real live, female graduate of the University", it become obvious that I'd better step up and volunteer for this job. Otherwise the local ND rep visiting the high schools would likely be wearing Depends.

But, in true Steph! fashion, I didn't actually know what I was signing up for. Until about a week ago when I started receiving mysterious phone calls and emails asking about the status of the student send-off. I don't know, beats me, was my first response. Until it was pointed out that apparently this is one of my tasks in this new role.

As a result I must now end this post so I can go and start contacting the students about the upcoming sendoff. Which will be held at my house. In two weeks. Which leaves me minimal time to get these posters ready.

My Con

2007-07-20T15:05:00.000-04:00

I frequently feel like a child pretending to be an adult. In fact, I've almost always felt that way. The only time I didn't necessarily feel this discomfort was when I was in college. But I felt it big time when I graduated, and started wearing a suit to work. From that point on I've felt like I'm pulling off some sort of con on the world. They all see me as an adult - but underneath it all I'm not.

There are moments where I look around my beautiful house, and at my kids, and my husband and wonder "How the hell did I get here??? (wait - isn't that a talking heads song?) Is this really all my stuff??? Am I actually responsible for the care and raising of these two human beings??? Did someone not notice that I am really not the best person to be doing this??? Who thought I could handle all of this?

Oh, wait. Must have been me. Who knew?

But seriously, I really do not know how I got here. Here is a great place - don't misunderstand the thrust of this post. I just feel like I'm a kid playing dress-up, and that someday someone is going to stop me cold and say "you know, this really isn't your life. You belong back at the cheesy 90's disco with a Miller Lite in your hand".

What is so interesting about this is that I've always appeared to be quite the grownup. As a child I wasn't much of a child. For the most part, in my family I've always been "the responsible one". I was serious, and I was scholarly, and I was more interested in books than anything else. As a result I skipped the 6th grade. So I've spent many years being one year younger than my peers. I've often wondered if that's why I feel this way? But if that's the case, when does it end? For crap's sake, I'm 34 now. Am I going to be 65 with grandkids and wondering why they all legitimately think I should be a grandmother? Does everyone feel this way or is it just me?

And We're Off (again)

2007-07-15T10:24:00.000-04:00

Heading North for a family vacation. Hope everyone has a wonderful week!

Watching the Wheels

2007-07-11T12:05:00.000-04:00

Thing 2 has always shadowed his big brother. This isn't surprising since they're only 14 months apart.

But lately I've noticed some specific examples of Thing 2 coming into his own. I remember last year when they both started preschool (side note - I may bitch about the state I live in, but we are very fortunate to have free preschool in our town - it's lottery based, but most people get into it and a state grant pays for it) at the local elementary school. As a four year old Thing 1 attended five mornings a week and even rode the bus. Thing 2, barely three, only attended two mornings a week. I had no reservations about Thing 1 in school - I knew he would be fine. But Thing 2...well, I knew that he would have trouble. Or, more accurately, that he might feel a bit lost. He was in the classroom right next to his brothers, and their classes were frequently combined for lessons. So I thought Thing 1 would take care of his little brother.

Wrong.

Not that he was awful to him, but Thing 1 had his own friends and his own agenda. I can't blame him for wanting his space and his own identity. But it was always so sad to me that Thing 2 would follow his brother and his brother's friends around, or that if I asked Thing 2 who his friends were he would list his brother's friends.

We started swim lessons this week. Once again, because they are so close in age, they are in the same class. But something has changed. Instead of following his brother, Thing 2 went into the water first, and started playing with another boy on his own. This is just one small example of his newfound independence and confidence that I've been noticing.

I love watching the boys grow. Oh, don't kid yourself, they aggravate me, but the truth of the matter is that there is nothing better than watching them learn, live, and change. Like every parent, I want so badly for them to have the best lives they can have. So watching Thing 2 starting to spread his wings it brings me joy. Pure, unadulterated joy.

Weekly Rantings and Ravings

2007-07-07T20:50:00.000-04:00

I think this should be a weekly segment. God knows I'm always bitching about something... :)

1. Thing 2 will be FOUR in August. Yet he continues to pee himself on a semi-regular basis. Since he has gone as long as week at a time not wetting himself, I know this is pure LAZINESS. I've bribed, I've rewarded, I've taken away, I've time-outed and quite frankly, I'm tired of it. But as a parent I'm not allowed to say WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? I'M FREAKIN' TIRED OF WASHING 42 PAIRS OF UNDERWEAR EACH WEEK! Which is what I am thinking. Every time he pees his pants.

2. Aside from the fact that she threatens to disinherit me on a semi-weekly basis, my mother is a fairly intelligent woman. So will someone tell me why she refuses to trust direct deposit??? My mother spends a lot of time in Atlantic City these days perfecting her second career as a professional gambler. So when she's out of town she then expects me to deposit her paychecks for her. And when I forget...well, let's just say that I'm probably going to be disinherited again this week.

3. I have diagnosed Thing 1 with CFD. What's that, you ask? It stands for "Can't Follow Directions". We're not talking difficult directions either. Example - an hour ago I say to him, in preparation for bedtime, what I say to him every night. "Take off your shorts and put them in the hamper". And, like he does every night, he takes off his shorts and underwear and then looks puzzled when I indicate that he doesn't need to sleep commando style. So then he picks up the underwear, twirls them around, does a few random circles, until I finally yell "PUT THOSE ON". Which leads me to Rant item 4.

4. Why, Why, WHY do my children only take me seriously when I yell at them? I repeat myself constantly, all day long, and it pisses me off that I need to yell to get their attention. I love them, but honestly, WHY?

Let me tell you a story...

2007-07-03T17:30:00.000-04:00

about another July 3rd. My best friend had recently been cheated on by her boyfriend and was trying to get over it. As a result we were going out and she was "on the prowl".

I was barely 23 - single, living in a southern city, and really having a good time. We decided to go to a restaurant/bar that had some pool tables. After eating dinner, we started shooting pool.

Somewhere during the night two hotties walked in. My friend says to me (and I shall never forget this) "I want one of them!". Yeah, yeah, I think to myself, and turn around to take my next shot. By the time I finished shooting one of the hotties had found his way to her and was offering to pick up our tab if they could shoot pool with us. Of course we said yes to the offer (neglecting to mention that our dinner was still on the open tab).

Hottie #1 was very outgoing, charming and flirty. Hottie #2 was quiet and shy, but cute nonetheless. Soon there were more alcohol shots than pool shots going on at our table, and my friend and I had to make the required bathroom run together (because no self-respecting woman in a bar goes to the restroom alone, correct?). There we had an urgent discussion where I convinced her that the flirty one should be hers. I must now confess that this was mainly because his discussion of rehab from his cocaine addiction made me a bit nervous (oh boy Lambette - did I ever actually tell you this is why I pushed you towards him... :). Anywho, this meant I got the shy one.

Well, one $250 bar tab later, the guys got nothing but our phone numbers. Which they did call on the 4th of July, and we did all get together and hang out. By the following week my friend decided flirty guy wasn't for her - although she handled the cocaine rehab better than I, the handcuffs he pulled out on the 4th date were a bit much for her.

As for me - you've already guessed the end of this story. The shy one is indeed Nurse Hottie, and we met 11 years ago today.

What's Your Theme Song

2007-06-29T08:57:00.001-04:00

My sister asked Garth Brooks this question a few years ago, and since then I've always thought it was a pretty interesting question. In my opinion, everyone has two different theme songs at any point in time. The first is the music you would want to hear played as you entered a room. For Sista ND (who posed the question) her song would be "Superstitious" by Stevie Wonder. I think I'd like to have "Running with the Devil" by Van Halen play as I enter a room.

My other theme song has been much harder for me to identify. This is the song that has lyrics which capture who you are, or where you're at. Obviously this song is different depending on where you are in the journey of life. Recently a friend of mine observed that had it been out when we were in college, "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" by Big and Rich would have been a good theme song for us.

So what is my theme song these days? I'm still not sure. These lyrics capture the past week or so:

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications

Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know will be alright
It's just overkill

From "Overkill" by Men at Work

Then again, last night I heard these lyrics while driving last night and identified with them:

I see my folks, they're getting old, I watch their bodies change...
I know they see the same in me, And it makes us both feel strange...
No matter how you tell yourself, It's what we all go through...
Those eyes are pretty hard to take when they're staring' back at you.
Scared you'll run out of time.

Chorus
------
When did the choices get so hard?
With so much more at stake.
Life gets mighty precious when there's less of it to waste.
Hummmm...Scared she'll run out of time.

From "Nick of Time" by Bonnie Raitt

However I don't consider either of these to be my theme song. I'm still searching for one...

So I leave you with the obvious question - what are your theme songs?

Life's A Beach

2007-06-26T16:46:00.000-04:00

You know, I've been to the beach more in the past week (3 times) than I have in the past 3 years...

Having grown up 2 miles from the Atlantic Ocean, you might be surprised to discover that I actually was never much of a beach person. I blame this on my mother. Or, more accurately, my mother's hair. Her hair turns into insta-afro when exposed to any level of humidity. Plus there were five of us. No one with any desire to maintain their sanity brings five children to the beach without any assistance. So, growing up, I rarely went to the beach. Once I got older I spent my summers working (starting illegally at the age of 13, but that's another post).

I mentioned this to my father and he said "oh no - I took you guys at least one time each summer. But you were always the one complaining - my feet hurt, there are too many rocks, what if something bites me in the water..." Funny, this is pretty much what Thing 2 said to me last week when we went to the beach. He really does take after his mother...except 30 yrs ago they didn't have watershoes. Once I put those on him he was good to go.

So, what is causing my recent beach activity? Easy. The answer all stay at home parents give: IT OCCUPIES THE CHILDREN!!!!

We've been going to a portion of the beach where the ocean flows behind the sand dunes, creating tidal pools when the tide is low enough. Which means the water is anywhere from 3-8 inches deep and full of marine life. The boys are having a blast gathering hermit crabs, crawfish, eels, snails, and the occasional blue crab. I've got to admit even I'm having a blast. It's a great way to spend a couple of hours and the boys are having too much fun to fight with each other. Add in all the other kids their age who are at the beach and it is, honestly, the perfect day. I can foresee myself doing this with the boys all summer long.

I can't think of a title for this one...

2007-06-21T17:31:00.000-04:00

We've been trying for 6 or 7 months to get Nurse Hottie's vasectomy scheduled. I can't even begin to explain the ridiculousness of why it hasn't happened other than to say that a)referrals suck and b)having your company change your insurance mid-year sucks big time and c)having your doctor leave her practice after giving you a referral that is no longer valid b/c your insurance has changed truly sucks.

Phew.

So I got sick of this and called my ob-gyn's office on Monday and basically said this: exactly how invasive is the tubal ligation...

My doctor just called me back to chat with me about it and so we've scheduled it. For next week. Gulp. Ironically enough, today is Thing 1's birthday. So I've made the decision, for real, for good, not to have any more kids on his birthday. I don't know how I feel about this. Actually I do, it's just hard to say. I would love to have a 3rd child. What I don't want is a 3rd baby. If someone could drop off a 2-yr old right now I'd take him. But an infant? I just don't want to go there again. And I really don't want Nurse Hottie having a 20 yr old when he's 58, and I really don't want to have to cut back on my business because I'm caring for a newborn, and then there's the fact that we gave up all the "baby equipment" a few years ago, and - well - you get the picture. All of my reasons for not having another baby are fairly selfish. Which seems wrong.

I've talked about this before, on my blog and in person with my friends. I've achieved a level of comfort with myself on this issue...but having the actual appt scheduled is churning up the feelings again.

Some Questions...

2007-06-18T08:48:00.000-04:00

I haven't blogged, or really even been online much this past week. I'll explain briefly: my best friend and her family were visiting last week, my inlaws arrived Thursday and didn't leave until this morning, and we had Thing 1's 5th birthday party on Saturday. It was a fun week, but today I just want to sit and RELAX.

But I do have a question. This was my first official "kids" party that I've thrown. I think it went well - thanks to all the help from the aforementioned best friend. She asked me an interesting question during the planning, which was "are you going to serve alcohol?"

I did attend a child's party earlier this year where booze was available. So this isn't a completely foreign concept to me...yet it is. I know that, in fact, a lot of adults serve alcohol at children's party - but something about this feels wrong to me. A few years ago a couple of fathers were trick or treating in our neighborhood and were drinking beers - this really unneverved me. Am I alone in this? I should state that for the record I do drink, not as frequently as I did before having kids, but I'm not alcohol adverse by any means. As a child I remember my parents having adult parties with a lot of booze (and the police being called several times for noise violations...but that's a whole other post), but never at our birthday parties. But my father stopped drinking when I was around five, which means that there wasn't a whole of of daily alcohol consumption at our house. The same is currently true in my own household since my husband no longer drinks. So, without further ado, here are my questions for the world at large:

Am I alone in this attitude that alcohol and kids don't really mix? Is this something that actually is quite normal but because I wasn't personally exposed to it I see as being abnormal? Is this a new trend or has it always been this way?

Just wondering.

Random Musical Thoughts

2007-06-10T19:54:00.000-04:00

What is a Hollaback Girl?

What does HOVA mean (H to the izzo, V to the izzay - yeah, I'm probably totally screwing this line up - but if you don't recognize the line, you definitely won't be able to help me with this one)?

Just wondering.

Lyric comprehension hasn't ever really been my strong suit. In fact, I spent most of my childhood thinking Jimmy Buffett stepped on a poptart in Margaritaville, and that Kenny Rogers had "four hundred children and a crop and a field" to take care of after Lucille left his ass. In fact, I only realized it was hungry instead of hundred a few years ago.

You know, I'm not really sure why my parents even owned a Kenny Rogers album. My mother was only in her thirties when I was a teen, and given her whole strong semi-black woman thing the majority of her albums were of the Michael Jackson variety. My friends thought it was so cool that my Mom owned the Thriller album. And the soundtrack to "Breakin'". I don't think she ever actually listened to these things, I think it was her way of counteracting the ownership of the aforementioned Kenny Rogers album.

I'm feeling the urge to confess to the world that I do own greatest hits CD's from both Neil Diamond and Barry Manilow. Oh crap - and Air Supply too. Suddenly I feel like I'm in the church confessional. Forgive me father, for I have purchased soft rock. And country, and rap, one CD from that blind opera dude, and a number of those "Now That's What I Call Music" CD's.

What can I say - I'm a musical schizo. As further proof I give you my last five itunes purchases (and this is straight off the purchased playlist):

Hole Hearted - Extreme
Overkill - Men at Work
You Can Do It - Ice Cube
Ridin' - Chamillionaire and Krayzie Bone
If Everyone Cared - Nickelback

Bad Thing 2!

2007-06-06T22:09:00.001-04:00

There's a problem in our household. A serious one, that I don't know how to solve.

Thing 2, previously known as my sweet, cuddly, angel boy, has changed. This is the child that if we went to the bank without his brother, would insist that we get a lollipop for him. He was thoughtful and loving. And he still is, at times.

But lately he has become a hitter. Not just a tap on the hand hitter either. Oh no, we're talking full on punches here, Mike Tyson style (thankfully he doesn't seem to have any need to bite anyone's ear off). In my mind I've started thinking of him as "Fists of Fury". He started whaling on his brother at a local sub shop the other day and although I was only about 2 feet away he got in 5 or 6 good, hard, hits. Not only is he physically aggressive, but he is so incredibly angry in those moments. This is not the child I have known for almost four years. I'm not sure who this is.

Now, on the positive side (what little positive side there is) he's not hitting anyone other than his brother. The teachers at preschool haven't seen any indication of this behavior. They still think he's a sweetie pie, and remain clueless about the Ali within. Also, to Thing 1's credit, he's not hitting his brother back.

On the incredibly frustratingly (yeah, I'm making words up here) negative side, neither my husband nor I have a clue as to a)where this anger and aggression are coming from and b)how to stop it. We've given timeouts, stopped and talked to him, explained to him that this is inappropriate, etc. etc. I'm really at a loss. I welcome any suggestions anyone who has seen/experienced this (particularly anyone willing to tell me this is just a phase :)

What's This Blog All About

2007-06-04T22:23:00.001-04:00

Yeah, I don't know either.

I started blogging late last year as a way to share pics/stories with my friends and family that don't live nearby. Or at least that's what I said. The fact is that I really started it as something to do. My grandmother was near death (in fact she died within a week of my first post) and I needed a distraction. Losing her daily presence in my life has been the hardest thing I've ever faced. I knew it would be hard, I knew it was coming, and so I tried to find ways to occupy myself. So that's really the reason I started blogging.

After tax season I found myself with some free time, so I started checking out other blogs. I've found a lot of cool stuff out there. This seems to be the internet medium for the 30-somethings (probably because we're too old for the Myspace). There's are mommy bloggers, political bloggers, and issue bloggers. There are people who are writing to make you laugh and people who are writing to make you think. So this leads to the question I've been asking - what kind of blogger am I?

A schizophrenic one, I think.

It's confusing to try to categorize yourself. I think that while I'm fairly open about who I am in real life, the fact is that even amongst my friends I have different facets that I share. Generally I like to laugh. A lot. So I don't know any of my friends that I don't share that aspect of myself with. But I'm also serious. As someone who had given up religion a few years back, lately I find myself truly trying to figure out what I believe. So I'm trying to self-educate - not just about religions, but about politics and history. After a painful foot injury, I'm trying to become more physically active again. I'm confident, but lately I've been hesitant in social situations. I'm a lot of things wrapped up in one body - but then again, aren't we all?

I'm rambling here. When I sat down to write tonight I had about four totally different ideas about what I could post about - and as a result this is what emerged.

On Our Way!

2007-05-27T10:11:00.000-04:00

We're leaving in two hours for a trip to Washington DC. So I won't be blogging this week. But if you hear in the news that security has been called out to the Lincoln Memorial, don't automatically think terrorists. It could just be Things 1 and 2 doing what they do best.

Why I'm Pissed Right Now

2007-05-27T09:53:00.001-04:00

Not much phases Nurse Hottie (NH) in the medical world. I learned very early on that when someone has been seriously injured instead of thinking "oh, that poor person" (which is my instinct) his first reaction is "cool". When we first met he was an EMT, and I was very confused by this behavior. The thing is, he wasn't the only one. Everyone on his crew hoped it would be "a good call" whenever the siren went off indicating that they were being called out. I guess I finally understood it best when one of his cohorts told me that while they don't wish bad things on people, they wished they were the ones to respond when bad things happened to people. Okay, maybe I didn't understand it per se, but at least I stopped thinking they were a bunch of cold hearted bastards.

There is one thing though that NH cannot handle. And that is when a child has been injured. This is not to say he can't perform his job in that critical moment, but afterwards these are the patients that he is affect him emotionally. He came home from work this morning very, very angry. Because last night some idiot of a mother decided to drive home, after drinking, with her 2 and 5 yr olds sitting in booster seats. Without seatbelts. Fucking idiot. They got into an accident, and now the 5 yr old is in serious trouble. The child started seizing in the hospital (which indicates head trauma). We are have a small community hospital, so the child was medflighted out to Boston Children's Hospital. I'm sitting here seething just thinking about it. Because of course, the mother is fine. Or not. Right now I'm sure she's suffering emotionally, and I have to say with complete honesty - good. I'm praying/thinking/hoping that her child makes it through this. But, as bad as it sounds, I have zero sympathy for her right now.

From a legal standpoint - in case you're wondering, the paramedic, nurse, and doctor all filled out "possible neglect/child abuse" forms on this parent. The system investigates from here...

Wonder what the Underroos would look like?

2007-05-25T21:28:00.000-04:00

This afternoon, after a long day with Thing One and Two driving me absolutely freakin' insane, I decided to stop and take a moment to love them. I was hoping that if we just stopped and all hugged each other perhaps an ounce of patience would find it's way back to me. So I said "Hugs and Kisses" and grabbed Thing Two. Went after Thing One who -

Turned his rear to me, simulated farting noises, and shouted "I'm Buttman!".

Great.

This, of course, got Thing Two started, which led to some sort of bizarre fart noise making competition. I think Thing One won when he accompanied the noise with "I'm using my special buttpower".

Where does this come from? What innate sense tells 3 and 4 year olds that farting, butts, and the word Poop are incredibly hilarious AND have the benefit of embarassing mommy if we're out in public? It's not just my kids either. I checked with Oakley awhile back (whose boys are 4 months and 2 months older than mine) and she confirmed that her boys also liked using the word 'poop' to make themselves laugh. My kids seem to have taken it to the next level by creating a superhero for the cause.

And the cracksmoker of the day award goes to...

2007-05-24T18:31:00.001-04:00

The 60 year old woman who gave birth to twins on Tuesday. Here's the story:

Frieda and her husband of 38 years had three children ages 33, 29, and 6. Either the 6 year old was adopted, or he was the biggest surprise baby ever (which really makes my shock/freakout when I found out I'd be having my kids 14 months apart seem really inappropriate.) Frieda and hubby decided that their 6 year old needed sibs closer to his age, so she went to a clinic in S. Africa that specialized in in vitro for older women. Translation: no doc in the US would touch Frieda's dinosaur eggs. Here are some excerpts from the story:

The psychologist who gave birth to twin boys at age 60 said Thursday she was on a mission to let women know they have choices. "It's really basically about women and empowerment," Frieda Birnbaum told NBC's "Today" show.

I'll be sure to let my 58 year old mother know. I mean, yesterday we were talking about her retiring and not knowing what to do with herself to stay busy. Voila - here is Frieda with the answer! I'm sure my mother would much rather do the whole up all night thing instead of traveling and relaxing. Plus her five older children can babysit!

"I don't feel like I went through a lot of trauma during delivery or even through the process of being pregnant," Birnbaum said.

Well babe, that's because of the meds. See, when you have a planned C-section they give you something known as anesthesia. It's sorta the standard these days. They try to avoid the whole "traumatize the woman in labor" thing whether you're 60 or 30. It's common courtesy.

Their daughter has said she worries about Birnbaum taking care of the twins when they're in their teens and she's in her late 70s — concerns dismissed by Birnbaum on Thursday.

"I hope I'm a role model for my daughter, that when she gets older that she can make her own decisions based on who she is rather than what society dictates," she said.

Umm, it's interesting that you think you are showing her all the choices she will have, when instead what you've done is pretty much ensured that she will be raising your kids in 15-20 years. I don't care how long you live - 75 is gonna feel like 95 when you're raising two teenagers.

And here is really what I think - this is incredibly selfish. I know that something could happen to me tomorrow and the boys would be motherless (for at least the mandatory 6 month mourning period that Nurse Hottie and I have agreed upon). But the odds are that I will be around for their college graduations while it's much more doubtful in Frieda's case. Sorry - I just don't get this one.

Hmmm - wonder what else they're doing when I'm not looking...

2007-05-23T19:23:00.000-04:00

You know these first two pictures weren't taken by me - I would have been yelling at them to stop jumping off the couch! Daddy's reaction - to grab the camera and capture our children performing circus stunts...

Thing Two jumping on the couch
Thing One about to face plant on the couch
It's so hard being 3!
My Guys

Yes, I voted for George Bush.

2007-05-21T15:14:00.001-04:00

Yes, I can admit it. Hello, he won the election - so I wasn't the only one who did...

I'm going to start with a disclaimer - I'm not an overly political person. And the past few years of my life the television has been pretty much tuned to Noggin, Nick Jr., or the Disney Channel. So I know I'm not politically-saavy, and I know I'm opening myself up to some potentially valid critcism (at which point I could start posting about the tax code, or the ridiculousness of Sarbanes-Oxley - which I can actually speak intelligently about). I'm not afraid to learn something new - nor am I embarrassed by what I don't know (if you can't admit deficiencies, how can you learn?). Quite frankly I'm not overly embarassed by many things - but that's a whole other post.

So lately I've been doing some blog hopping and have happened upon some blogs that I really enjoy. Some are mommy focused, some are not. A lot of them seem to be anti-Bush or very pro-democrat. One blogger posted a comment on my blog questioning why I voted for George Bush in the last election. Valid question, so I'll answer it.

Because Option B was John Kerry.

Do I consider myself Republican? For the most part, yes. Conservative? Relatively so, but it's an issue to issue thing. When I cast my vote, particularly for a presidential election, I do not vote along party lines, I vote for a candidate - and their supporting cast of characters. The first time Bush ran I voted for him - not because I was overly anti-Gore, but because I thought fairly highly of some the people that would be in office with Bush. Colin Powell was someone I respected immensely. Dick Cheney - not so much, but I sorta thought he'd drop of a heart attack before he ever got through year one of the vice-presidency.

As we all know, that election was a frickin' nightmare, but I can't be the only one who felt safer with George Bush (or more accurately, his staff) at the helm in the weeks following 9/11. I can't imagine the nightmare that would have been if Gore had been in office. Please do not misconstrue - I am not actively supporting the Iraq war (although I didn't have a problem with it in the beginning - I'm not going to pull a Hilary here!). I am talking very specifically about the weeks, even first year or two, after 9/11. I was glad I voted for Bush.

Here's another reason I'm glad I voted for him. Check out your tax bill. If you're married, with two children, it is now substantially lower than it would have been under a democratic administration. As a CPA I can actually speak to this intelligently. I can tell you that my tax bill is easily $4000 less as a direct result of changes to the tax law. I can look at the economy, my investments, and see a marked improvement over the past 7 years. These are things that matter to me, and to my family. I've got to give the current administration some credit for them.

Let's move on to the second election, or as I like to refer to it: The one the Dems didn't try to win. Had the Democrats thrown up ANYONE who had even a remotely decent chance at running our country successfully I would have voted for them in a heartbeat. Instead they threw the election. No one likes running against an incumbent (how do you think Bill Clinton, a relative unknown at the national political level, got the nom back in 92?). The Dems highest profile potential candidate, Hilary, was definitely going to run for President, but needed more time as a Senator under her belt. I guarantee you she and Bill had a conversation that started with this question: "Who can we back to run in this election that won't actually beat George Bush?". Somewhere there is a cocktail napkin with a list of democratic nopefuls (no typo there) with one name circled "John Kerry". Kids, I'm a Masshole. I know Kerry. And any of the democrats that knew Kerry knew he wouldn't win. Which is why they put him up to begin with.

So that's why I voted for George Bush. Because I didn't have any better options. I'm looking forward to 2008, and to hopefully getting to choose the candidate I want, instead of voting against the candidate I know I don't want.

Week(s) in Review

2007-05-21T12:18:00.000-04:00

I've been too busy to blog, but here's what's been going on:

I turned 34 - and I am thrilled. Very excited about this upcoming year, this age, this life.

I was nearly decapitated by a foul ball at at Red Sox game. But they won, and won big, and the bruise on Nurse Hottie's hand did subside after 4 more innings (note - bruise was from him trying to catch the ball - not from me!).

My best friend might leave her husband for her new crush that I introduced her to...Jackie Warner from "Workout" (and I'm not recommending anyone else start watching the show, least I become responsible for more possible broken marriages).

The boys are now big Justin Timberlake fans. They sing all the tunes, Bye Bye Bye, Dirty Pop, What Goes Around Comes Around, My Love...Wiggles Shmiggles Baby!

The boys also now have a "big boy" swingset. Which took Nurse Hottie 16 hours to put together. Without my help. God knows I am a liability when it comes to power tools...and foul balls.

My aunt was diagnosed with cancer. Treatable, and we're still not sure if it's spread to the Lymph nodes (conflicting info on that right now).

I am becoming one of "those parents". Following the meet the kindergarten teachers event, I am already vying to have my child put with "the best" teacher. I know, it's Kindergarten - how critical can it be? Yet I am compelled beyond reason to make sure he gets the best teacher. I'm pathetic, I know.

That sums it up...for now!

I feel like ranting...

2007-05-11T12:02:00.000-04:00

I was talking to a friend of mine the other day (who is not aware of this blog - none of my "local friends" are aware of it) who is about to return to work following the birth of her first child. Since I can't say what I feel directly to her without causing an argument that isn't worth it, I'm going to vent here.

She told me how lucky I was to stay home with the boys. She's told me this several times, ever since she first found out she was pregnant. It's not in a complimentary way either. It's more of a whiny "I want to stay home, but my husband doesn't make enough, I make too much, it's just not feasable" way. In a way that is somehow supposed to make me feel badly about my "good luck". Mind you we worked at the same company, and I am aware of how much she makes, how much her husband makes, and how much her monthly budget is (before purchasing a home a few years ago she wanted me to look at their finances to make sure it was economically feasible - so I have a very thorough knowledge of their financial situation). I am not saying that she definitely can stay home. But her boss offered to let her work part-time and she whined about that. How she was so unlucky that her boss offered her this yet she had to turn it down.

The thing is that if she really wanted to she could stay home (again, I KNOW their finances) or at least take advantage of the work part-time offer. And she seems to conveniently forget that I did work full time until shortly after Thing One's 3rd birthday. And that like her, I was outearning my husband at that time. So, how did I get so lucky to stay home? Did I win the lottery? Did my mortgage company decide to forgive our debt and live in our house for free? Uh, no. So then how did it happen?

We made a plan, we took a breath, and then we leaped. I gave up a very large salary (and I'm not so tactless to post my earnings here, but trust me, it was a lot to give up). But we had also planned ahead. Saved our money. Realized we'd have to cut back on some of our spending (oh how I miss the merry maid service!) And then (and this is the big one, the hardest one of all for a financial control freak like me) I realized that it was okay if we had to dig into our savings from time to time to make this happen. I didn't say use up our savings, but we've definitely had to dip into it from time to time.

I'm not an advocate of either staying home, or working full-time. I'm an advocate of making choices in your life that make you happy. Note I didn't say in making your children happy, but in making you happy. Because I firmly believe that if I'm a happy person, a positive person, then my children are also going to learn to be happy and positive too. That HOW I live my life will teach them more than anything I SAY to them. That if I believe that anything I want is possible and live my life in a way that demonstrates that, then they will learn this too. I'm an advocate of put up or shut up. That if you're miserable, take steps to make things better - don't just spend your days up bitching about it. We all have bad days. I'm far from perfect. But I can at least acknowledge the fact that if I'm not happy it's up to me to figure out how to be happy - and not to spend my time focused on putting down others who are happy.

Which brings me back to my friend. She has a six figure balance in her savings account. Yet she still afraid to stop working full-time. Honestly a lot of this comes down to the fact that she was raised to be afraid. To focus on everything that can go wrong, instead of everything that can go right.

Quitting my job was, hands down, the scariest thing I've ever done. It was also one of the best decisions I've ever made.

Truthfully, I am lucky. I was born to parents who live their lives in a manner which showed me that life is about possibilities, not impossibilities. That if I want something to happen, I have the power to make it happen. I'm hesitant to post this because it sounds cocky - I don't think I'm cocky, I think I just believe that we all have the power to have what we want - we just need to get past that fear that stops us from trying to get it.

Drug Addict I am Not...

2007-05-06T17:23:00.000-04:00

So I did wake up from surgery after all...

But when I woke up, the thing that hurt the most was this stinging sensation inside my nose. Morphine didn't touch it (yep, I tried that in recovery). So once I could stand, pee, and walk, they pretty much threw me in a wheelchair and sent me on my way. With that horrible stinging sensation. So I'm complaining about it, and Nurse Hottie says:

"well, that's the cocaine."

Say again?

"liquid cocaine is used all the time in the nose - it helps cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding. but it does sting."

So not only have I experienced my first time being "put under", I've also used cocaine. And given that burning sensation, I'm not likely to use it ever again. And while I'm at it, why in the hell do people try take Vicodin pills to get high? I've taken those pills twice now for pain and they did was put me to sleep. There was nothing euphoric about it. Yet people actually go to great lengths to get prescribed this stuff (or oxycontin, or any other hydrocodone derivative) so they can get "high". Of course I know this through Nurse Hottie's life in the ER. In case you are interested, what you do is go to the ER and complain that either your tooth or back is hurting you (do not use stomach - they send you for all sorts of tests when you complain about your stomach - what are you, a novice at this getting drugs stuff?). Then you tell the doctor that you're allergic to ibuprofin, and aspirin, which forces them to issue you a narcotic prescription (if they've fallen for your ruse). And there's the hitch. Some doctors, afraid to get sued in case there is a problem, give you the script and send you on your way. Others literally tell you to get the hell out of there.

Anywho, I'm alive and well. Hopefully you are too.

I'm Still Awake Because

2007-05-03T00:07:00.000-04:00

I'm due to be at the hospital in less than 8 hours for sinus surgery. And I'm not feeling entirely comfy with the whole thing. Specifically the whole "we're going to put you to sleep now" portion of the event. Anywho a good friend of mine said she always stays awake the night before surgery, so that she'll sleep more after the surgery. Not sure if this is the medically advised method, but I figure I'd rather be awake and getting stuff done rather than lying awake in bed dreading the morning.

So, in case I don't wake up from this procedure, a last Thing One story (and special request).

Today I'm driving with the boys and decide to tell them that they can be anything they want to be. I do try on a daily basis to tell them how special they are, how much they are loved, etc. etc. I figure the earlier and most often they hear these words the more they will believe them. Anywho I'm doing the standard speech all parents give at some point in time, which goes like this:

S: You can be anything you want to be when you're a grown up. You could be an astronaut, or a teacher -
Thing 1: I already have a teacher!
S: No, no, when you're older - you could be a teacher like Miss D, and you could teach children like she teaches you.
Thing 1: Oh. Okay. So what else could I be?
S: Well, you could be a builder, or a fireman, or a nurse, or a truck driver (see, I'm not trying to pressure them into fame and fortune - just trying to open their eyes to the possibilities of life).
Thing 1: What else?
Thing 2: Yeah, what else could I be?
Mommy is starting to run low on career path ideas...
S: Umm, you could be the gas station man, or a policeman, or a doctor, or a lawyer
Thing 1: What's a lawyer?
S: It's like a judge. Sorta. Anyways, you could be a scientist, or a painter. Now what do you think you'd like to be.
Thing 1: A clown.
S: A clown???
Thing 1: Yeah, a clown. I want to be a clown.

Okay - so here's the deal. I'm trying not to be overly concerned by my 4 year old's career aspirations. But since I'm facing possible death in the morning (yeah, I'm being melodramatic, I'm allowed!), I would hereby like to request should I not wake up from surgery please, would one of my sister's please find a way to ensure that he's not a clown. I'm not asking for President, or the next Oprah Winfrey, I'm just asking you to nix the Clown Career. Otherwise I will haunt you. By throwing huge clown shoes at you from the sky. Try me - I will do it.

2007-05-02T23:16:00.000-04:00

Usually I try to encourage an ND reunion this time of year, but since the majority of the "usual suspects" were either knocked up or finding love Internationally, I didn't bother. Instead I met up with Conna and KYGirl down in Orlando, courtesy of Conna's American Express card (yep, her husband is paying that bill). Monetary revenge...something I know a little bit about ;)

Here's what I learned during the trip:

a) It's best to let the desk clerk attend to his sober guests first.
b) Mixing 1/2 can strawberry, 1/2 can peach and 1/2 can rum makes a kick ass daiquiri.
c) Do not ride the Hulk roller coaster after imbibing an alcoholic beverage (this one comes courtesy of Conna)
d) Use sunscreen.
e) Ethnically I am now to be known as "Half Potpourri". Perhaps someday I'll be able to better explain my Cape Verdean heritage, but for now this explanation seems to make the most sense to the average white girl.
f) Caesar, a valet at the Polynesian resort, will check out your boobs.
g) Caesar will also be the only person in the general Orlando area able to give decent directions, so honestly the whole boob checking out thing is a completely worthwhile price to pay.
h) I kick serious ass when it comes to shooting space aliens (see picture below - yeah, I know it's small, I'm still learning how to scan - someday maybe I'll even learn how to text - I'm such a technological loser)
i) When accessing the fingerpring activated lockers at Universal, press your thumb lightly. Otherwise you will end up with a long line of pissed off sweaty tourists behind you.
j) The song "Overkill" by Men at Work stays in your head for days once you've heard it.
k) Three days away from my kids makes me appreciate them, and Nurse Hottie, a whole lot.

This is wrong but...

2007-04-19T15:48:00.001-04:00

very funny. The Will Ferrell "landlord" video that's been circling the internet lately...

http://sjl.funnyordie.com//v1/landing.php

It's over...now what do I do?

2007-04-18T16:05:00.000-04:00

So tax season officially ended for me last night around 6:30. All the pressure, the stress, the constant worry about what I needed to get done before the deadline - all gone. So I woke up this morning, looking forward to just being a Mom again. Except I kept feeling like something wasn't right. Like I should have something I need to do. You see, I suffer from Post-Traumatic Tax Syndrome. It happens every time. With all of my free time focused on getting returns done, I have no time for anything else, no energy for anything else. Suddenly that focus is gone, and I am physically jittery from all the excess energy that has no where to go.

Well, I haven't had time to post, so here's what's been going on:

Nurse Hottie has settled on some sort of Celtic knotwork/design tattoo. He is constantly bothering, I mean, showing me different designs. At this point they all look the same to me, but my role as supportive wife deems that I act interested.

Thing One continues to have poop that amazes me. I know this because I have to see it every morning at 7:15 when my alarm goes off. The alarm sounds like this: "MOOOOOMMMM - I pooped! Mom! Mom! Mom!" If you're grossed out that I have to wake up to wipe his butt, then you don't have kids. Trust me, this is far better than the diaper days (especially when they were both in diapers). Anywho, back to the poop. It is huge. It has serious girth. He usually has to review it before flushing and decide what it looks like. Today it was an Anaconda. It's frequently an Anaconda, but sometimes it's just your regular garden variety snake. He's very proud of his poop. And apparently so am I, if I'm spending this much time writing about it.

Thing Two continues to give a rats ass about peeing in his underwear. He'll go for a week without an accident, and then piss himself three times in a day. I'm at my wits end with this process. He's 3 and a half. I've threatened, I've bribed, and I've basically given up. Thing Two 1, Mommy zero.

American Idol sucks. Okay, sucks is a bit much, but I'm bored with it. I am still enjoying Dancing with the Stars. I actually watch it because I love seeing the dances, as opposed to Nurse Hottie, who only watches it to see if Heather Mills' leg will come flying off. Oh, I also watch it because of Leila Ali's partner - he is H.O.T. And I miss Emmitt Smith (okay, so specifically I miss his arms - god I love strong arms).

Because it follows DWTS, I've been watching the Bachelor. This dude is about as cheesy as it gets. I really struggle with any man who sits around saying "I'm looking for my soulmate - I just know she's out there somewhere". Is this nice in theory? Yes. Are there soulmates? Yes. Is any man who sits around saying "I'm looking for my soulmate" quite possibly gay? Oh yes. This guy needs to stop sipping champagne, open up a bottle of beer and grow a set.

Almost There

2007-04-12T15:45:00.000-04:00

Five more days until taxes are done. Except for our return of course. You will all be amused to hear that I got a notice from the IRS stating that we owed over $2,000 for our 2005 return (we don't - but I neglected to include one form which is what caused the notice). Nurse Hottie, as expected, was not so excited to see that his accounting wife got us a tax notice. For some reason he thinks I'm supposed to get that sort of thing right...

Tattoo You

2007-04-08T10:12:00.000-04:00

For some unknown reason Nurse Hottie and I have both been thinking of getting tattoos.

Now, before you get all hyped up into either "Oh, I love tattoos" or "Oh, it's so trashy" mode, wait just a second. We haven't actually gotten them, nor do I think I'll actually go through with it. First and foremost, I am a complete wuss, and as I understand it getting a tattoo can be quite painful. So let's face it, chances of me actually getting one - rather slim.

As for Nurse Hottie - well, I have no problem at all if he wants to get one on his arm - I don't think it's skanky, or trashy, I actually think it would be pretty cool. Dependent upon one rather large factor - what it is. And that is truly the reason for today's post.

If you know him, you know he is an extremely obsessive person (think about the truck). Which means that he's probably spent 100 hrs online in the last 10 days looking at tattoo pictures. This is what happens at night in the ER. People are dying, and my husband is online trying to find a picture of his family crest to see if it would make a good tattoo. For the record, I officially vetoed the family crest tattoo (it was really not that cool). And I found myself a bit hurt - hey, it he's permanently marking his body, shouldn't it have something to do with me? Or Thing One and Two? Or the glory of marriage to me? Or perhaps a reminder to him to close cabinet and closet doors (sorry - pet peeve of mine).

So last night I started giving him ideas for tattoos - things that he loves and have meaning to him...

A Quarter Pounder with Cheese and a Large Fry (because they are responsible for the extra 15 pounds he's been carrying around the past 6 months) alternate tattoo - the golden arches - cheaper, and easier to render.

The Lyrics to any Air Supply Song (this would have to be done on his chest). Okay, I wouldn't say he loves Air Supply - this one is for me. Only because an air supply song came on while we were discussing this, and I realized that it would pretty much guarantee that he could never be unfaithful, since any woman who would see this would think that he was gay. Downside - the gay male nurses he works with would be hitting on him. Wait - I think that might be an upside - at least it would amuse the hell out of me.

A Picture of Me...naked. There is no upside to this one - it was his suggestion. See what I'm dealing with???

And of course, last but certainly not least, a picture of his truck.

Suggestions anyone?

He Gets It From Me

2007-03-28T19:41:00.000-04:00

Message on my cell phone today:

Hi, Mrs. M - this is the school nurse calling. I just wanted to let you know that your son hit his head today. We treated it with ice and I'm sure it will be okay but I did want to call and notify you in case you had any questions. While going to the bus he walked into a tree...

Yes, into a tree. Not tripped over a branch, not was pushed, no no, my son just randomly walks into trees. Does this surprise me? Of course not. And if you know me at all, you're not surprised either.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

2007-03-17T15:34:00.000-04:00

I'm having a bad week

2007-03-15T19:07:00.000-04:00

Let's review:
First...Thing 1 returns home from school with his nose and forehead all scraped up - apparently he inherited my athletic skills. Here's the story in his words:

"I kicked the soccer ball. And then I kicked it, and I kicked it, and I kicked it, and then oops, I missed it and fell and hurt my whole face"

Second...It was corporate tax return deadline day. Actually I was done by one o'clock, which for a procrastinator like myself is a minor miracle. Still, I was stressed out from the moment I woke up until I finished everything.

Third...I missed entering my ncaa picks in a pool I was going to do by ten minutes. I totally forgot about it and then when I went online to enter saw that the first game had started - score of 2-5...

Fourth...I'm coming down with something flu-like.

Fifth...I have to have sinus surgery. I've never had any surgical procedure before, so I'm really nervous about this.

BUT - there is always the silver lining. To make myself feel better, I like to look at and ridicule those who are less fortunate than me. Examples:

The guy who came into the ER recently to have a dildo removed from his butt. Sadly, this happens much more frequently than you would imagine. My favorite story involves a priest who said he slipped and "fell on it". Oops - how in the world did that get there? And, I must ask, how long do you try to remove it before you feel that medical intervention is necessary?

Carmen Electra and Alison Sweeney (days of our lives' Sami). Here's a video of them doing their best "I'm too sexy" on the runway. If I tell you what happens it ruins it, so you'll have to just watch:

http://www.myfoxla.com/myfox/pages/InsideFox/Detail?contentId=2679482&version=2&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=5.2.1

Brandon Rogers, who actually got the boot before Sanjaya. Who, every single week, inspires my husband to say "what the fuck is that hairdo?"

Continuing the American Idol theme - Diana Ross. Was she drunk when she picked out that costume??? Seriously, what was THAT? And the singing...oh, the singing. If the judges could have reviewed her here's what they would have said:
Randy: Diana Dog, that was just not good. Very Pitchy - you were shouting the whole time.
Paula: Diana, well, for a sixty plus woman with four face lifts, you look beautiful. I would totally wear that boa as well. I do wish you'd sung something a little more, I don't know, less lyrical? You know, something with a lot more music and a lot less slinging, I mean singing. Oops, sorry, too much coca cola again (laughs and falls off chair).
Simon: I have no idea what Paula is talking about. However, Ms. Ross, you reminded me of a drunken, used, has-been hotel lounge singer. That was truly ghastly.
Diana - shouting: Thank you!

See, I'm feeling better already!

It's BAAAAACK

2007-02-22T14:37:00.000-05:00

American Idol. My favorite show, by far, that's on TV. I know that most of you are stunned that I'm not on the show, but unfortunately I'm above the age 29 cutoff. I did do a Neil Diamond recording several years ago with Oakley that undoubtedly would have been a chart topper had it been released.

Now, without further ado, here are MY picks and pans:

Women Who Rocked

2007-02-22T14:36:00.000-05:00

I liked the Pink/Black haired girl's rendition of "All By Myself" - I thought she hit the note dammit! And Lakisha...there's nothing I could say that could explain how incredible her performance was last night. My only concern - can she keep up THAT level of singing throughout???

Women Who Tanked

2007-02-22T14:35:00.000-05:00

A picture is worth a thousand words, my friends. Actually, any of the white women (except for "All By Myself") can go home, as far as I'm concerned.

The Only Guy Who Impressed Me

2007-02-22T14:34:00.000-05:00

is the dude from Smashing Pumpkins.

The Man who Should Definitely Go Home

2007-02-22T14:33:00.000-05:00

He's cheesy, didn't sing well at all, and for some reason thinks the Danny Bonaduce hairdo circa 1975 is a great look.

Happy Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T12:42:00.000-05:00

Love, exciting and new!

Hmm, can you tell I'm in the mood to go on a cruise? I'm lobbying to make it a big family celebration for my dad's 60th birthday this year. One major problem with that - he has no desire to go on a cruise. Everyone else in the family wants to go though...and really it might be a treat for him if we all just went away on his birthday and left him here to play golf. I think I'm going to suggest it.

Kind of a random day. The slushy mix that was on the ground when we woke up is now gone due to the rain. My kids are totally confused by this winter - we haven't had any snow at all to speak of yet. Many people would say that this is due to global warming. I have a Republican husband though who thinks global warming is just in Al Gore's head. Now, if McCain or one of the other "good guys" had produced the documentary I'm sure he would change his tune. Or if somehow increasing your engine torque could benefit the environment, he'd be joining the Sierra Club.

In honor of St. V day, I shall now stop making fun of my beloved. Because, for all the things little things he does which irritate the living crap out of me, he does always make me feel special on Valentine's Day. Last night (because if he'd waited until today it would have been 9 pm before we had quiet time) he gave me my gifts. Nothing big or extravagant (uhh, he covered that at Christmas), just small things that I'd either mentioned or he knew I'd appreciate. This thoughtfulness is one of his greatest qualities.

What is really cool about this particular V day is that since they are now in school, the boys had to get Valentines for their classmates. Of course we did Spongebob valentines complete with candy krabby patties. It was a lot of fun writing them all out and getting them ready for their party - and as they get older I get more excited about these mini-holidays. Having kids allows you to be a kid again. Which, when your as childish as I am, is pretty damn cool.

You Get What You Pay For

2007-02-12T14:58:00.000-05:00

So, one of my character traits is that I am cheap. Actually, I tend to be willing to spend exorbitant amounts of money for certain items that I think need to be high quality, but I'm a cheap ass for everything else. One thing that burns me is the fact that when you go to the eye doctor, they charge you a contact lens “fitting fee”. Even if you’ve seem the same Ophthalmologist for the past five years, they still hit you with this fee (this, my friends, is known as highway robbery). Last time I checked my iris’ stopped expanding around the 10th grade. So effectively this is just a surcharge for the convenience of wearing contact lenses. The last time I went to the eye doctor, 18 months ago, the fitting fee was around $100 – and it pissed me off. So at a recent trip to Walmart, I noticed the eye store and thought to my self “self – why don’t you go see what they charge”. So I did. Aforementioned fitting fee was $30 – so I made an appointment. Yes, I realize that this is Walmart. But in my monetarily frugal mind, I would be bringing the contact lens brand that I currently wear with me, so I wasn’t asking anyone at Walmart to truly fit me, I was just using them for a cheaper prescription.

As it turns out, my irises are indeed the same size, so no worries there. However, there was an actual eye exam performed. Let me describe said exam:

Step 1 – Goth girl takes me to get that puff of air in your eye test done. My “Eye Care Technician” spent most of the time asking me if I’d ever seen Clerks 1, Clerks 2, Dogma, and every other Kevin Smith movie ever made. I have indeed seen Clerks – approximately 10 years ago. Therefore when she started talking in great details about the characters as if they were her personal friends, I was really lost. The puff in the eye test took about ten minutes because of this. I should have just stood up and told her I voted for Bush, and I would have been in and out in 45 seconds. But not me, oh no, I try to be polite and relate to everyone…

Step 2 – Examination by an eye doctor who prolly got his medical degree back when monocles were the preferred choice in eyewear. So I then go for the actual eye exam (what is clearer – this one…or this one). As the doctor is handing me the black spoon thingy you use to cover one eye, his hand is shaking so much that a) I thought he was going to whack me in the head with the device and b) I wasn’t sure which eye he wanted me to cover first since he was waving the thing between both eyes. During the midst of this I’m desperately trying to see the year of graduation on his diploma that’s hanging on the wall, but since he has my glasses I can’t make it out. So I start asking about his practice – turns out Dr. Geezer retired for almost two years, then got tired of his wife who at the age of 77 “is starting to lose it” he decided to come back and work part-time. Oh boy. This takes approximately 45 minutes because he seems totally confused by all the newfangled devices used to conduct an eye exam. He also tells me that it’s really nice that all of us girls will get to see Hillary Clinton run, but that we shouldn’t vote for her because it’s a man’s job. Seriously. I wish I was exaggerating any portion of this exam, but I’m not.

We then go and chat with eye specialist number two, who clearly is the guide dog in the contact lens prescription write-up. Because my actual prescription did change (I actually got .5 better in each eye – something I directly attribute to no longer spending 9 hours a day five days a week in front of a computer monitor) I was required to go back a week later. Which allowed me to find a way to check the diploma date for Dr. Geezer. He was a proud graduate of Ophthalmology School in 1956. Jesus. I’m lucky he didn’t try to give me a polio shot on my way out the door.
Lesson learned – pay the freakin’ $100 contact lens fee

Get Down Tonight!

2007-01-30T13:37:00.000-05:00

Tax season has officially begun! Hey, how come no one else is cheering? Okay, okay, so the rest of you aren't quite as excited about 1099's, 1098's, and W-2's as I am. In any case, I don't have time to write a post so it's video time again. This one has been around for awhile so many of you may have already seen it. While it does bring back some rather frightening SYR memories (uh, why did we actually think the grocery store dance was cool???) I still find it highly amusing. Enjoy!

My Second Marriage

2007-01-27T16:02:00.000-05:00

Recent conversation with my mother:

BDE (best daughter ever, that's me): So, are you going to be okay tomorrow...
BME (you can figure it out): You mean because it's grandma's birthday?
BDE: Yes.
BME: Well, it's also Tony's birthday. So it is a day to celebrate. Oh, and it's also your sister's fake anniversary too.
BDE: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. Or is it their real anniversary?
BME: I have no clue. You kids make everything so difficult.
BDE: Not me! I've only been married once. It's all of YOU that are so weird.

So, for all my non-sibling readers, I guess I should explain this one. Everyone in my immediate family is on their second marriage. My grandparents, my parents, my older sister and my younger sister. But here's the catch - none of them have ever been divorced. Confused yet? This is just the tip of the weirdness iceberg that is my family. See, they all married the same person twice. My parents went the old fashioned route and married in the church, then renewed their vows on New Year's Eve in 1999. My grandparents and my two sisters went the justice of the peace route and then decided to walk down the church aisle. One of my sisters, who is PROLLY going to be mad at me for disclosing this, got married and didn't tell my parents until after her church wedding. So nurse Hottie and I are unique since we've only been married once. I'm nervous to ask him if he wants to get married again as he might say no. Or stipulate that his truck be the best man.

My Idol is a Gray Betty

2007-01-19T16:24:00.000-05:00

Finally, American Idol is back. I have to say I prefer the competition part of the show more than the auditions. My favorite so far is the sixteen year old whose father was an NFL player. However, since we are in the audition phase...how can I refrain from commenting on the contestant in the above picture - am I the only person who instantly thought of the saggy boobs teacher from South Park??? (I have googled and discovered that character’s name is “Ms. Chokesondick” – obviously mature humor is not my strongpoint). I started out the day feeling badly about everything on my body that is sagging after having kids, saw this chick, and now feel like Cindy Crawford circa 1990.

I’m so over Gray’s Anatomy. Seriously. I'm tired of the backstage spats (and quite frankly, at this point all I’m waiting to hear is that the big old Mexican chick kicked Isaiah Washington’s ass after he referred to her as Burrito Butt), and the fact that every woman on the show (except for aforementioned Burrito Butt and Addison) all desperately need to start eating something. Anything. Personally, I think Isaiah is angry and getting in fights with all his castmates because he drew the short straw and got stuck having to make out with the show’s resident ugly girl. Don’t bother telling me I’m wrong – you all know she’s ugly too. I suppose the feminist within should be happy that network television is finally allowing homely girls a shot. After all, for years we've watched the networks cast beautiful women with ugly men that in the real world they wouldn't be caught dead with (unless they had Trump money. Trump money trumps ugliness - haha).

Something else that annoys me about Gray’s Anatomy - and I know I am probably going to get yelled at for this, but honestly, Patrick Dempsey is no McSteamy. McCutie, maybe. McGettingoldergracefully, okay. But McSteamy??? Never have, and never will get that. Especially when I recently heard that Rob Lowe was originally up for that part – now he would have been McSteamy. And I do like me some McDreamy. Who, ironically, also slept with Burrito Butt on the show – which, again – in the real world would never have happened. By far, the thing I truly detest about the show is its "star" - Meredith – UGH! Between having the world’s most annoying voice and constantly having that stupid “deer in the headlights” look on her face, I can’t stand her. The actress, the character, the whole thing. Someone get her a voice coach and a donut.

So, what am I watching? On New Year’s I found myself caught up in an Ugly Betty marathon, a show I deliberately avoided when it debuted, and I am now have to admit it is actually a really well done show. I don’t know that I would start watching mid-season – I think to get the essence of it you need to start from the beginning as there has been a lot of character development already. It is hysterical though. So if you’re not watching it, consider grabbing it on Netflix when season one comes out.

Making It Up As I Go

2007-01-16T19:40:00.000-05:00

“Mom – Are an octopus and a squid friends?”

So this was the first question asked of me today after picking the boys up from school. It’s a great example of the types of questions I get asked on an hourly basis. My answer to this one ended up including an explanation of what an oceanographer is, and what squids eat. You might think that perhaps I’m giving them too much information, but since most of their marine life knowledge comes from watching Spongebob Squarepants, I felt it best to be thorough. In case you’re wondering, thanks to my son’s Spongebob obsession I’ve also had to explain that while sponges do exist, they actually don’t wear pants nor do they live in pineapples. Jake and I also have a recurring argument about whether or not Squidward is actually an octopus (he claims his head isn’t the right shape to be a squid). In any case, it’s become apparent that I probably should have taken Physics or Astronomy instead of Understanding Virus’ to meet the University’s science requirement (although, at the time, the high percentage of football players in Understanding Virus’ certainly seemed to signal that I had made an excellent choice). I’ve recently been asked about electricity, volcanos, whales, space exploration, gravity, martians, and why we need air to breathe and fish don’t (which resulted in quite the biology lecture from Steph on lungs and oxygen, btw). While I try to base my explanations on known scientific facts, there are definitely moments where I haven’t a damn clue what the answers are. Also the limited vocabulary of a four and three year old complicate things (what's a lung? what does oxygen taste like? see my point...) Unfortunately the boys don’t ask me about tax deductions, investment strategies, or whether or not Emmitt Smith is a better dancer than Mario Lopez. These are questions I can handle. Questions on baleen and plankton – not so much.

Paula Abdul is My Hero

2007-01-12T16:08:00.000-05:00

I've been too busy working to post, so here's a lazy one for you. You can expect less and less blog effort from me as April 15th draws nearer...

Idol is one of my favorite shows, and one of the few that a reality tv junkie like myself can actually mention and not feel like a moron. However, the fact that Paula Abdul rakes in millions is one of those things that bugs the living crap out of me. What, exactly, qualifies her to judge the talent of others? Please don't answer "she was a singer". Let's leave those painful memories of trying to learn the moves in the Straight Up video in the past (and don't try to act like you all didn't do it as well). So that narrows Paula's attributes down to the following: being engaged to Emilio Estevez, having bulimia, and being a Laker Girl. Adding insult to injury is this interview, in which it's painfully obvious she is either completely wasted or in the midst of a stroke. I'll let you be the judge.

Would this be me?

2007-01-05T17:12:00.000-05:00

As we approach V-Day, known to those over 80 as victory day, and to those in our household as vasectomy day, I'm starting to have second thoughts. Actually, second thoughts is too strong for what I'm having. I am questioning whether or not it's okay that my reasons for not wanting any more children are purely selfish. There's no medical reason why we shouldn't have more. While it might be more financially stressful, we certainly wouldn't lose our house if we had another child. Since nurse hottie turns 37 this month I am concerned about how old we'd be when our third child quits college on us, but let's face it - there are plenty of people in their 40's having children. The fact is that at the base of it all, the reason I don't want more children is because we're past the baby stage. Since my boys are only 14 months apart, I feel like I lived the extended remix version of the baby stage.

I've given up bottles, breastpumps, diapers, pacifiers, diaper bags, and strollers, and I don't want them back. I don't want all my clothes to smell like baby vomit or have formula stains on them. I don't want gates at the stairs, foolproof latches that confounded me, or to use that suction thing on any other babies noses.

I want Disneyworld, and bike rides, and people that can tell me when something hurts. I want the crazy never-ending questions - "can a monster eat a dinosaur?" "why does a volcano have a hole in it?" "what does a sponge eat?" - these are all from today, in case you were wondering. I want to hear my son recite the pledge of allegiance, even if he does think that we live in the "united states comerica" and that our country is "invisible with liberty and justice for all". That's the stage we're at now. But if I don't have any more babies, then once these two pass this stage it's gone forever as well.

As for the picture at the top of this post...this one struck a little too close to home. I already have two boys who think it is hilarious when they pee in the toilet at the same time. Do I really want to know if it's possible to fit a third stream?

My List

2007-01-01T21:01:00.000-05:00

This is a picture of nurse hottie and I on our way up to two hundred feet above the ocean in Key West this past summer. If you haven’t done it, I highly recommend parasailing. I tend to be a bit on the scared whiny baby side of adventure, but I thoroughly enjoyed this. I think I tricked myself into believing that since we were attached to a parachute everything would be okay. That if we somehow got detached from the boat we’d just sort of leisurely float away…

For a lot of folks it’s New Year’s resolution time. I’m not one for resolutions. Instead, I have “the list”. The list was started back in August of 1993. I remember watching a Lou Holtz interview where he talked about sitting down and writing a list of things he wanted to do and achieve. He mentioned that on his list was (no big surprise here) to be the head coach at Notre Dame. That inspired me to start my own list. Like its author, the list is a picture of diversity. It runs from material (own an emerald ring – checked off in 1996) to serious (have children –checked off in 2002 and 2003) to the whimsical (make an apple pie from scratch – not done yet) to adventurous (whitewater rafting – 1998) to the type of person I want to be (buy presents for needy – 1996-present). Despite the fact that I'm discussing it here on the internet, the list is actually quite personal and private to me. I've shared it's entire contents only with my husband, and even that was after we'd been married for a few years. There are no deadlines with the list, no criteria for when I need to complete something, or add something new. Generally something will strike me and I’ll write it down. My most recent additions are to see an NFL game in every stadium, and to publish a magazine article. Certainly I’ve had a number of amazing experiences that weren’t on the list. Sometimes I'll complete a task without realizing it was even on the list (parasailing falls under that category). Sometimes completing something on the list alters me in a way I didn't anticipate. For those who didn't know, back in the 90's I spent two years as a mentor at a juvenile prison. What I learned during that time, both about myself and the world that those young men lived in (both inside and outside of prison) is way too personal for me to explore here in this forum. I will say this - it changed my perspective on why crimes are committed - and opened my eyes to the fact that not everyone who is a criminal is a "bad person". It opened a window to a socioeconomic and racial world which I likely would never have been exposed to if I hadn’t decided it was time to check “perform volunteer work” off my list.

In case you were wondering, I’ve only deleted one item from the list. Two years out of college I signed up, with 15 or so co-workers, to go skydiving. A week before our scheduled trip the instructors we were supposed to skydive with were all on a “fun jump” together and their plane crashed, killing all on board. I think two of the original co-workers still went skydiving a few months later. Me – I scratched it off the list.

I wouldn’t say I live my life for the list. But it is inspiring when I look and see that, for a thirty-three year old, I've experienced a lot. I remember what I’ve done, and how much I’ve lived, and it makes me look forward to continuing to experiencing all that I can, while I can.

Dinner with Ladies

2006-12-27T22:33:00.000-05:00

Sounds harmless, doesn’t it? What if I tell you that it was written in Tony’s handwriting on our calendar? What if I tell you that “ladies” is actually code for “harem”? Yes, my dearest and most darling husband went to dinner with twelve women. One man, twelve women. He might as well have written “Dinner with my bitches” on the calendar. This was a holiday dinner for the night staff at the ER. You’d think they could find one more man to attend, even a gay male nurse would have added an ounce or two of additional testosterone, but no, it was Tony and the Hooches. As you can probably tell, I was a bit jealous when I discovered the male/female ratio at this dinner. My father tried to comfort me with words of wisdom. “Twelve women!” he says, “That’s every man’s nightmare. Now if it was two women…”

Have A Great Day Today

2006-12-19T10:10:00.000-05:00

Seriously. If you're reading this, make today great. Why not? What's option B? You live in the greatest country where you decide how you want to live your life. You have your health. You have spouses/boyfriends or children, or family, or friends (or possibly all of the above) that love you for who you are. You are truly blessed, it's just that sometimes (and we all do it) you forget. So seriously, have a great day today. Take time, or do something for yourself, or one of your loved ones, or even a complete stranger. One way or another, just have at least one moment of pure, unrestrained joy today. A moment when you just say to yourself "hey, life is good. I'm going to remember this moment - how I feel, where I am, what I'm doing for a long time".

I mean it. Stop reading this. I'm not going to be sarcastic on this one. Just enjoy the day.

Why don't you believe me. Fine...shizzle my nizzle. Happy - I did something non-serious. Now get out there.

The Christmas Card Picture you won't be getting in the mail...

2006-12-13T21:12:00.000-05:00

If I could attach sound you'd hear "WAAAAH! WAAAAH!" Blame daddy though. He got irritated by the fact that they wouldn't stop rocking and wanted to be photographed reading books which they then started using as weapons...so this picture was taken right after their father rather forcefully took the books away.

How Black Am I?

2006-12-11T21:40:00.000-05:00

Hold that thought for a moment. I’ll get back to that in a minute.

First, check out this picture of my girl Condi. Does she look pissed or what? Listen, say what you want about Georgie Porgie (and yes, I know I’ll catch crap because I did vote for him) but don’t pick on Condi. First – she’s smart as hell. Second – her dream job is to be the NFL commissioner. Third – she’s smart as hell. Listen, given the current administration that one is important enough to repeat. Actually, the only reason I’m posting this picture is because I laughed out loud when I saw the look on her face. I can relate to this one. Apparently whatever I’m thinking shows up on my face all the time. Tony constantly calls me out – hey what’s so funny when I’m thinking of something amusing, or what are you mad about when I’m thinking about something annoying. The thing is I don’t even realize the fact that my thought process has made its way to my facial expression. So then I’m embarrassed and have to say oh nothing. So I guess poker player is off the list of possible careers…

So, how black am I? Seriously. How does one determine blackness? It was far easier when people married and procreated in their own race. I would have been perfectly fine being either all white bread or all dark meat. But no – my parents have to do the cool 60’s interracial thing and confuse the crap out of me. Let’s review. Fact 1 – my maternal grandfather is black. Really, this one is black and white (pun intended). Fact 2 – my paternal grandparents were white. Okay, we’ve got ¾ of the puzzle solved. But maternal grandma (may she be in heaven watching Howard Stern re-runs and sipping sex on the beach as I type this) – well, that’s where things get complicated. She was definitely 100% Cape Verdean. So was her husband. Since they were the same ethnicity, they were not considered interracial. But her actual complexion was really light skinned. Interestingly enough (and this is totally normal given the mixture of the Cape Verdean population), most of her siblings were/are fairly dark. So does she count as a white or a black? Historically I have erred on the side of being conservative, so I called my self ¼ black. Which explains the nickname “Quarter Homes (homes being the derivative of Homie – of course). However my sister, the maneater, is known as “Half Cracker” to her college friends. Now how can she be a half if I’m only a quarter? Don’t even get me started on my sister BKD-H, whose wedding cake topper featured a Black man and a Puerto Rican woman.

One thing is for sure. When it came to college and scholarship applications I was all in favor of checking the black box (I don’t think they were PC enough to call it African American sixteen years ago). Actually, I may have even checked off Samoan. I didn’t have the balls to check Asian. For the record, no one did stop me from accepting my scholarship as Alaskan-Indian of the year. I’m not paying that money back either - I’m sure it’s in my gene pool somewhere.

Two Little Men and a Baby

2006-12-03T22:51:00.000-05:00

I was talking to a friend this weekend who asked me "did your kid really sing baby got back?" Do you embellish or make any of this stuff up?

The incredibly truthful answer is that no, I don't embellish any stories that involve the boys. I don't have to - this is the insanity that is my life. If you don't believe me ask anyone that's spent more than a few minutes with my children. Or ask Jake to sing Baby Got Back to you. With my kids I laugh every single day. I also scream, get mad, and wonder why I ever quit my job for this. Parenting brings out your true colors. And I'm not perfect. I don't think I'm a bad mother, and I would die for either of my children without hesitation. But they definitely try my patience. However they also amaze and astound me on a regular basis.

Today's story involves a game they play called Steph and Tony. You know they are playing this game because they wear our shoes. Jake uses this deep voice (he is always Tony) and says stuff to Clint like "hello, sweetie" and "oh baby, i love you". For some reason he only plays the part of loving Tony. He's never said "oh baby, but I haven't washed my truck in two days". So here was today's episode - it kinda caught me by surprise:

Jake: Sweetie, get in the car. We're going to the hospital to have the baby.
Clint: (for some reason also in a deep voice - even though he is me) Okay.
Jake: The doctor needs to get the baby out.
Clint turns to me. Lifts his shirt.
Clint: Doctor, get this baby out.

I, now playing the part of the doctor, hand him the invisible baby.
Steph: Is is a boy or a girl?
Jake: It's a boy.
Steph: What's his name?
Jake: I don't know...we'll know when he's 2.

And no, before you ask - I am not, nor am I trying to become, pregnant.

Shizzle my nizzle

2006-11-29T12:57:00.000-05:00

For some unknown reason I have been using this phrase lately. I also tend to say "it's all good in the hood". I have absolutely no freakin' clue why I am channeling Snoop Dogg.

I have been stressed lately - for at least the past two weeks or so, maybe longer. I'm struggling with this because, quite honestly, I'm not one to stress. I generally look at things quite simply - either I can control it, or I can't. If I can control it then I do. If not, oh well. The problem is I'm not sure what I'm stressed about. I just feel this overwhelming sense of, well, being overwhelmed. I realize this is making no sense. Trust me - if it made sense I could deal with it. I think that what it comes down to is I'm trying to figure out what I want to do still and who I want to be. I'm happy I'm here with the boys. The time I'm spending with them is important. However one of my parenting "rules" is that I want to live my life in a way that demonstrates what is important. I don't want to tell them they can do anything, I want to live my life in a way that helps them see that anything is possible. I believe that firmly, and the reason I do is because I've watched my own parents live their lives like that.

Compounding the problem is that I'm actually really busy with tax work, busier than I've been since the spring. I'm just not so sure that's what I really want to do either. So my time is spent being mom and cramming in the work when I can, with no time to step back and analyze whether or not this is the direction I want to go in.

Yesterday I got an email from a former co-worker. They have now hired a third person to fill my old job. Don't misread that - it's not that they've had two others come and go since I left, they literally have three bodies doing the same work I used to do. Shizzle doggie drizzle.

In other news, Clint thinks he is Spiderman. He now uses this as an excuse for his behavior. It's why he was climbing the bookcase the other night. It's why he can't eat the rest of his dinner. Today I was trying to get him to put his jacket on and he told me "spiderman doesn't get cold". I refrained from telling him that "spiderman's mom could give a rat's ass - now get your f-in jacket on". See, I am a good parent. I just think the stuff, but don't say it.

Mind you this is the same kid who was asked (while wearing his spidey costume at a halloween party) if he could climb the walls. He looked at the woman as if she was an idiot and said "it's just a costume".

Turkey Day in Review for BKDH

2006-11-23T19:30:00.000-05:00

BKD-H,
Four siblings are never as good as five. Here are some pictures from today. Since you missed it, this year I was thankful for Clint's third day of underwear without an accident...Becky the dictator sat at the kids table and apparently Grandpa is now sleeping with a pick axe next to him in case anyone ever breaks in. Tony is aware that if anyone comes into the ER with a pick axe injury he's to call mom so she can contact a lawyer...

Love and Miss You!!!

2007 Mother of the Year is still possible...

2006-11-15T22:05:00.000-05:00

Following my recent plea for new music, a friend emailed me saying that she’s not sure what to send me – it seems like she never hears any new music because, being the mother of two small children, she is always listening to toddler music.

When people enter the insane realm known as parenthood, they try to convince themselves that they are going to have a certain amount of control in this new endeavor. So before their tiny bundles of joy even arrive, they make rules to help determine what type of parents they are going to be. “I won’t spank my kids”…"My kids will never eat McDonalds”…"I will let Bobby play with dolls if he wants to” etc, etc. Steph’s number one parenting rule: I will not listen to toddler music. Hey, I did the research, and realize that all of the studies say that children should be exposed to music, that it helps their little brains develop and understand math and science better. However, not a single survey specifically stated that “Mary Had A Little Lamb” would make juniors brain any more mathematically inclined than, say, “Sweet Home Alabama”. Plus there was my already questionable sanity to consider. Anyways, that was my parenting rule. I’ve stuck to it too. But, as with anything else in life, you need to be prepared to handle the consequences of your decisions. So I will share with you a story that pretty much killed any nomination I was going to get for 2006 Mother of the Year.

Back in May, we went to the library. For those without children, the library is essentially a gathering place for stressed out mothers that need an indoor arena outside of their home to exercise the children. It’s basically a romper room with bookcases for furniture. Parents go there not to read to their kids (although you do end up checking some books out for appearances sake), they go there to get a break from the kids tearing up their own homes. We were at said sanctuary back in May, and a little boy that had been playing train with Jake says to him “Hey, I can sing a song for you!” So he starts in with “Twinkle, twinkle, little star…” Then he asks “can you sing a song?” Jake looks at him and says “Oh my god, Becky. Look at her butt – it is so BIG!”

Needless to say the "Monster Booty" compilation CD was banned from the minivan shortly thereafter...

It's So Hard to Be Me...

2006-11-12T23:47:00.000-05:00

Actually, it's really not. Made you look though.

I might be deleting this tomorrow as I'm having my third date of the night with Mr. Miller Lite. A young man (now currently bald despite the fact he's only 34) once called me the "two-can commando" back in 1990...under his tutelage I became more of a five shot everclear gal by the time we graduated, but motherhood has sent me back to two-can (or bottle, as I have substantially more fund available for beer now) commando status. Translation - I am technically drunk.

Drunk, but not drunk enough that I can't type. Or cut some checks and print reports. Which is what I'm doing now. See, when you are a (technically) self-employed mother who hangs with her kiddies but also gets paid to do stuff, you fit it in where you can. While they're watching the movie Cars for the 85th time, or at 11 pm on a Sunday night. After a day of football. Have I mentioned my love of football? I love it. This year I've taken on commissioner duties for a pool I'm in (and if you're married to a Fed and reading this tell him it's totally for charity - would I be involved in illegal interstate gambling? Is my nickname not law-abiding Stephie?) which adds another task to my already fairly full life. Tony joined the pool this year for the first time, which is cool as it leads people to believe my husband is a reformed redneck. Don't kid yourselves, today we were flipping between Nascar and the Saints/Steelers game. I remember a few years ago when we had to have two tv's set up in our living room every Sunday - one for Steph (football) and one for Tony (Nascar). Fortunately I managed to convince him that there was no need to LISTEN to a race...but as usual, I digress. I love football. Angry that my beloved Saints lost, but happy for the Packers today. Oh, and I love football in High Def most of all. If you don't have it - GET IT. 'Nuff said.

Okay, back to why it's so hard to be me. Again, it's not. My husband kicks ass (remember, I'm drunk and therefore not uptight about his inability to fold laundry) and comes home telling me cool stories about how many bullet holes were in some dudes leg yesterday morning, my children kick ass (again, drunk enough to forget the fact they spent a lot of today beating each other up), and overall my life kicks ass (don't even need the booze for that). I got to see the Maneater this weekend and catch up, and I'll get to see her again soon since she's a teacher and therefore has every holiday known to man off. Also got to do a great family field trip to the Mystic Aquarium in CT on Thursday since the Massachusetts school system turned Veterans Day into a four day weekend...wait - another tangent. Dammit, I've got to keep focused.

Oh yeah, my problem. I need some new music. I borrowed my brother's CD collection recently and got some good stuff (was also a bit frightened by his rather extensive Korn collection) including Zeppelin and Metallica. I also got a good laugh at the old "giveittowayna" song I saw but didn't copy. I feel myself slipping back into tangent land, so I'll just say it - if you love me, send me some a CD with some music. I really do need some new tunes. And you all know you love me. Okay, gotta go finish printing before I pass out...

International Drunk Dialing

2006-11-06T17:50:00.000-05:00

My lovely sister and her husband have been touring Paris the past few days and are heading to Rome tomorrow (and I am insanely jealous. I've been to Paris but not Rome). She worked approximately 6 months during the past two year period, so she felt she deserved a vacation. I was over at my parents house this weekend, and my mom tells me to go listen to her answering machine messages. Why? I ask. "Just go listen!" My mom gets irritated with me easily. Can't imagine why.

Beep - Hey Mom, it's BKD, we've arrived, we're at a hotel with a great view of the Eiffel Tower (blah blah blah - that message is too boring type in)

Beep - Bonjour. Yo Mom....Are you there? Mooooooooommmmmmmm?????? Well, it's us. We're sitting on a balcony, drinking Champagne. Are you there? Why aren't you ever there? It's expensive to call internationally, ya know. Oh Mom? Mom? Where are youuuuuuuuuuuuu? Bonjour from Paris. We're having a really, really, really good time. The champagne is good. Bonjour. I mean Adios. Or Au Revoir. Whatever. Bye.

Tonight I was talking to my mom. Well, she says, I finally talked to Kelly tonight. And? I ask. My mother sighs. She was drunk again - wine this time though.

My Son, Future P.I.M.P.

2006-10-30T09:56:00.000-05:00

So yesterday, at our second Halloween/Birthday party for the weekend, Clint wanted to go play outside. I let him out, and the birthday girl, a seemingly innocent four year old, followed him out there a few minutes later. I’m watching them through the sliding glass door (it was frickin’ cold yesterday!) and I see Clint waving his finger and yelling at the little girl. I’m about to go out there and tell him to stop yelling at her when the little girl unzips her dragon costume (revealing that she has no shirt on underneath), flashes him, and rezips the costume. Then the two run off and play together happily…

Reaction of the little dragon girl’s mother – oh my god, my daughter is a hooch!
Reaction of Tony – Yeah! That’s my boy!

Seven Phone Numbers and a Funeral

2006-10-29T12:18:00.000-05:00

So “the Maneater”, my youngest sister, calls me today with an update on her life as a single girl. She tells me that in the past week she’s had seven guys ask for her phone number. Wow – I say – where? Well, she tells me, two of the requests were at a funeral…

In my family weird shit happens at wakes/funerals. It’s gotten to the point where we actually have a contest now called “Quote of the Wake”. Had the rest of us been there I’m sure being asked out at a funeral would have won the quote of that wake (or funeral, as it were). I’ll share a couple of other winners from this past year…

My 2nd cousin’s wake. Sister (and that part is key to understanding just how wrong this is) of deceased asks my brother-in-law if he’s still playing professional football. When he tells her yes. Her reply: “Really? Oh, can I get your autograph?”

Runner up for the same wake – my grandmother (the deceased’s aunt) is overcome by grief and literally is in the casket hugging the dead (grandma wasn’t real tall, so it took some effort). Quote of the wake: my mom as she’s leaving “and one of you kids keep your grandmother from climbing in that damn casket again”.

Grandma’s wake – one of our possibly homeless cousins tells my sister “You guys should be honored - I actually showered today for this.”

Runner up for Grandma’s wake – the same cousin asks me if I’m having any more children. No, I say – how about you? “Oh no, I’ve been spayed.”

Here Come the Irish!!!

2006-10-24T19:16:00.000-04:00

I’ve been wanting to share the experience of a Notre Dame game with Tony for many, many years now and finally got the chance. It was an amazing weekend!!! Kolbs and Mark were there, Annie Oakley – my forever partner in crime, was there, and Csizbooty and Mr. Giggles (oh yeah, that nickname isn’t going anywhere!) were there. Of course, lots of memories were discussed. I’m not sure I should pick a favorite, but having the old “I’m not a Ho, I’m just friendly” quote make an appearance was a source of great amusement for me.

Our seats were in the far endzone (great view of touchdown Jesus). Unfortunately that meant we were right next to the UCLA students and band. Apparently UCLA allows strippers to moonlight as cheerleaders. I know I saw a couple of dollar bills floating down in their direction…maybe their routines were meant to be raise tuition money. If that’s the case they are probably very, very successful.

But I digress, back to the game. Basically the Irish offense looked like complete crap the entire time. Defense saved us from getting too far behind, and came up with a critical three and out stop with just over a minute to go. Then, like a flashback to the early 90’s, we won the game with a last minute touchdown. THAT was thrilling. The coolest part for me was sharing it with Tony. The memory of the smile on his face and the two of us jumping up and down celebrating after that touchdown will stay with me for a long, long time.

BP Chicks are Hot (old, but hot)

2006-10-24T19:13:00.000-04:00

Oakley, Ms. Friendly, Conviser Kolbs, and Moi

What Notre Dame means to me

2006-10-23T15:35:00.000-04:00

Before college I was shy, quiet and perpetually (had to get that word in!) concerned with what people thought of me. I was painfully shy in high school (since I'm such a loud mouth now no one ever seems to believe me when I say this). I had my circle of four or five good friends that I was comfortable with, but that was it. I was always very aware of the fact that I wasn't secure enough to express myself. And it sucked.

But from the moment I stepped on campus I felt, for the first time, completely safe to be me. Sounds corny, but it is the truth. I felt empowered, comfortable, and at home almost immediately. Notre Dame is where I grew up. It’s where I discovered my own self-worth and self-confidence. I’ve definitely evolved since graduating from college, but most of that has been superficial. In essence, Notre Dame is where I stopped being afraid to be me - and I haven’t been scared since.

What made me decide to write the ND post...

2006-10-23T15:31:00.000-04:00

We were flying out to South Bend on Friday morning. The weather was crap. Which meant the turbulence was crap. We’re bouncing along (which I hate) and so to help ease the tension (and the excessive squeezing I was doing to Tony’s hand) I started listening to my iPod. It was on random play. Suddenly, we rose above the clouds and the turbulence stopped – all I could see was the sun glistening off the wing, the soft white of the clouds below us and clear blue sky stretching out for miles and miles. It was absolutely breathtaking. And this is what came over my headphones:

Who doesn't know what I'm talking about
Who's never left home, who's never struck out
To find a dream and a life of their own
A place in the clouds, a foundation of stone
Many precede and many will follow
A young girl's dream no longer hollow
It takes the shape of a place out west
But what it holds for her, she hasn't yet guessed

It’s never been one of my favorite songs. But nothing else would have fit the moment quite so well. That’s when I figured I’d better write about what ND truly means to me. Not the typical stuff I usually write for my own self-amusement. But my honest feelings about this place.

Crazy Aunt Becky

2006-10-17T13:01:00.000-04:00

My conversation with Jake yesterday morning during breakfast:

J: Mom, I want candy for breakfast.
S: Jake, you can't have candy for breakfast. Remember, you need healthy foods to help you grow big and strong. Candy is a treat - it's not a healthy food.
J: Does Candy have sugar in it?
S: Yes, it does.
J: And does sugar make you crazy?
S: It can. Sugar can make you act kinda crazy if you get too much of it.
J: Oh.
Jake pauses.
J: So who gave Aunty Becky all that sugar?

My Husband's Mistress

2006-10-17T12:58:00.000-04:00

So I’m downloading a few photos I recently took and look at what I found on the camera. Pictures my husband obviously didn’t want me to see…of his true love…his damn truck! First of all, who takes pictures of their vehicle? Do you see pics of the silver bullet (aka my lovely minivan) on this site??? Uh, no, and you never will (although I have become a minivan convert). And check the location of the truck – ON MY FRONT LAWN. Okay Mr. “steph, don’t run over the sprinkler heads when you back down the driveway” what is a half-ton pickup truck doing on our front lawn?

I know you guys think I’m joking, but I’m not. He asked me the other day to confirm the day we bought it so he could figure out how old the truck is (perhaps he is throwing it a birthday party). He washes it at least twice a week, and waxes it regularly. He changed the oil at 1500 miles for “performance” reasons, but note that he certainly didn’t volunteer to change my vehicle’s oil at 1500 miles. He volunteered to take the boys out “to the park” a few weeks ago but somehow returned with a specialty parts catalogue for the truck. When we’re in it we have to park a mile away from any other potentially door dinging cars. Any free time he has is spent on the truck, and although I haven’t caught him yet I think he might be talking to it. If he could have “relations” with it I think it’s possible he would leave me. Fortunately for me that tailpipe is pretty hot, so I’m thinking that my marriage is safe.

What the hell is that???

2006-10-15T13:04:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I know, that’s what we were wondering. I discovered these lovely fungi (that is the plural of fungus, right?) growing in our yard last week. Later I asked Tony if he’d noticed them and he replied “you mean the penis’ growing in the flower bed?” I asked why he didn’t remove them, and he countered with why didn’t I remove them. Ultimately I think the answer is the same for both of us…we’re afraid sperm might come shooting out if we touch them. Given my fertility history, I should be exempt from touching anything that even remotely resembles a penis or in nine months I could be giving birth to a mushroom. However if I tell him this I have no doubt he’ll add it to his arsenal in our ongoing “which one of us is getting fixed” debate.

Just a typical day here in crazyville

2006-10-13T13:22:00.000-04:00

“Come on out poop – I’m trying to poop you!”

A typical day in my life. I made the mistake a few days ago of “talking” to Clint’s poop. My strategy to potty training mirrors the parenting method that Tony and I agreed upon, popularly known as “whatever works”. So when Clint was trying to poop last week, and asked me to help him get the poop out, I started yelling at the poop “come out here you silly poop” or something like that. Option B was to try some manual assistance, which wasn't happening. Little did I know that he would now think that it’s normal to talk to one’s own poop in an attempt to coax it out. So my three year old talks to his own butt. It could be worse, not sure how, but I know it could be worse.

Party Time

2006-09-24T12:38:00.000-04:00

I'm bringing sexyback - yeah! 12 hours later the damn song is still in my head...

Yesterday was grandpa's 85th, which meant that all of my siblings were in town. Whenever the five of us are in town there ends up being a party at my house. So around 10 pm last night they came filing in with plenty o' booze. The kids were asleep, and Tony was due to go to work at midnight. He could either deal with drunk people here, or drunks at the ER...at least at the ER he gets paid.

The fact that my brother explained what a "dirty sanchez" was using pooh bear was W-R-O-N-G. I'm not sure why he's become the designated dirty sex acts educator for the family, but since he is I still think he needs to find out for me what the hell a london bridge is. At least Beck didn't bring up the tossed salad discussion (again).

My sister ralphed on my carpet (okay, spewed an orzo pasta - but still technically it's vomit), threatened my brother with loud AM pooping, "bertha" won the weirdest place you've done it contest (and sent me to the floor in shock), and we all learned a little too much about what can happen in the back row of an airplane. Typical night with the sibs.

I had to throw in a pic - this is from a previous "sibs party" and features my brother in law who has fallen to the floor because he is laughing so hard. Fortunately for Nickey I deleted the toilet pics of her, otherwise that would be my picture of choice to summarize an evening with the sibs...

Why start now?

2006-09-23T12:32:00.000-04:00

Good question. Things are not so happy in our world these days as my grandmother is very ill and fading before our eyes. It's always so strange to me - going through the day and interacting with people at school, or the bank, or even in line at the grocery store while on the inside I'm filled with this massive sadness that literally feels like a weight on my heart. Sometimes I look around at people and wonder what's going on in their world - what heartache or joy are they experiencing that the rest of the world can't see?

So sadness...sadness for others that are going through pain (the Steve Irwin death is still killing me as well), sadness for myself and my family...

Why start now? that was the question...The answer is that I've been meaning to find a better way to share pictures, thoughts and stories with my family and friends who don't live closeby. My younger sibs suggest a myspace page - but let's face it, I'm over 30 and neither single nor swinging - and therefore I don't see that as the place to be. So I googled blogs, and this is what I found and where I'm at. Any questions? Too bad, because I don't feel like answering any.

Note - future posts will likely be happier and include explanations of why my kids have "ghetto backpacks".