So Cute, So Evil

Look closely, for this is the face of Evil.

Avery woke up at 4:30 AM, but I kicked Frank until he rolled out of bed to deal with her. Once again she had her fat leg stuck in the slats of her crib. This happens now 2 or 3 times a week, and she always gets all bent out of shape and mad when it does. Who can blame her though? You’re happily sleeping, and all of a sudden you try to roll over, and find out you’re stuck. Being 16 (almost 17) months old, you can’t figure out how to get your leg out, so you scream for Dad. This is my favorite part, she always screams for Dad. I should feel guilty that she prefers Frank to me, but I don’t. She is clearly his baby.

She’s so bad. I used to think that Anaya was the anti-christ, as evidenced by 6 months of horrible colic and refusal to sleep more than 2 hours in a row, but now I’m starting to think that Avery must really be a demon in disguise. She likes to get up on top of the counters or kitchen table (she knows to push the chairs around to climb up on anything) and stand there and yell for Frank- “Dada! Dada!” When he gets to her, she’ll pick up a bunch of crayons or paper or spoons, and start dropping them one by one on the floor. Or, she’ll make eye contact with him and slowly walk to the edge and put a foot out, daring him to get her before she steps off.

Her first words were “stop it” and “no.” She bites, pulls hair, and tackles the other kids. If one of the other girls is sitting with Frank, she’ll come over, worm her way between the two of them, and slowly push the other daughter away. Yesterday, Frank was zipping up jackets to take the kids to daycare. He started with Anaya first. Avery stood there, watching, and all of a sudden reached out and pulled Anaya’s braid. Anaya of course had a meltdown (typical for her, at least 6 a day). Avery acted contrite. Went over, gave her a hug, patted her back, and then grabbed the braid and pulled again. She ran away laughing as Anaya threw a complete fit. That’s pretty much typical for them. Avery is bad, Anaya cries, Frank attempts to parent, but as he says, “how can someone so cute be so evil?”

Avery is also the reason why our Christmas tree is so pitiful. We have 15 ornaments on it, all red. They're at 3.5 feet or higher up, because she ripped off all of the other ornaments. She also knocked over the tree three times within the first hour that it was up. I never had this issue with the other kids. My Mom tells me that everyone deserves a child like Avery, so that you appreciate how easy your other kids are. She had Liam, and he was just as bad as Avery.

Taking Advantage of Free Babysitters!

My husband I and don’t get out a lot. We live sort of on a budget, he works the PM swing shift (like 11:00 AM to 11:00 PM or so), he’s a chef, so he works weekends and holidays, and getting a PM babysitter is a pain in the butt. But, this week, my Father-in-law was in town. Now, I know that I ranted about him. But, he wasn’t that awful this time around. Possibly because he had someone with him or possibly because they took off for Las Vegas and weren’t at the house for the whole week. Either way, the week wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My husband was home on Friday, and his Dad wanted us to go out, and leave him with the kids. We jumped at the chance, and went to see Four Christmases, which wasn’t as awful as expected, but it was the movie that was starting when we got to the theater, so we went. Then, we got almost home, and got very, very drunk at the bar near the house. Good times.

On Saturday, Frank’s Dad starts in on the “I want to take the whole family out to dinner.” OK, my kids can’t even handle IHOP in the mornings without 2 or 3 major meltdowns, so “going out for dinner” is just a bad idea. Top that off with the fact that the baby goes to bed now by 7:00 at the latest. But, whatever. At 3:00 or so, Frank’s Dad and girlfriend go off to do something “we’ll go to dinner when we get back.” Whatever, the kid will be in bed probably. And, sure enough, they don’t get home until 7:15 PM. I have the youngest two in bed already, since they were wiped out. Only Adeline is awake still. Then it’s the whole I thought we were going out, blah, blah, blah. Sorry dude, they’re sleeping, and at 7:00 at night, even Applebee’s doesn’t want to see us, because the kids will be horrible. So it turns into a “Why don’t you guys just go out” type of situation. We jumped on that, because a free sitter is something that you never turn down.

We ate at a tiny restaurant in Scottsdale, called Atlas Bistro. Frank’s friend Josh is the chef at (Josh was one of the ushers at my wedding, I think he was paired with Bridge). So, anyways, we get there, buy a bottle of wine (it's a BYOB attached to a wine store place)- a pinot noir I think- and sit down. We didn’t give Josh a heads up that we were coming in, we just made reservations on the drive over, so it was unexpected to him. We weren’t expecting anything beyond a normal dinner. We ask the server to just tell Josh that Frank is here. Josh comes out of the kitchen, surprised to see us, and asks if he can take over the food selections or if we want to pick from the menu. I went with menu items. Frank got a 13 course tasting, or something ridiculous like that. The food was really excellent. I had this tuna and squid starter, a frissee and potato salad with a foie gras dressing (like little puddles of heaven), Steak, and this strange fennel and apple tart. But it was really good. Probably the 2nd best meal I've had in Arizona. (The best was at Janos in Tucson, that was an incredible 12 course tasting, with wine pairings, for Frank, I was pregnant and couldn’t drink.) Frank just keeps getting course after course of everything on the menu, tasting portions, but still a ton of food. Duck, sweetbreads, tuna, lamb, steak, everything. We got all these dirty looks from the other patrons, because the chef kept coming out with the plates himself and running down the ingredients and everything. He’d fire a few tables, and come back out to us. We were like the VIPs in the restaurant, which pissed off the snotty Scottsdale “regulars.”

The special attention from the chef wasn’t expected, because we didn’t let him know beforehand that we were coming in. On the rare times that we actually do get to go out, and call ahead to somewhere, Frank usually mentions who he is, or where he works, and we get “special” tasting menus. A professional courtesy. I sometimes like it, and sometimes don’t. I start to get feelings of dread when the server comes over and asks if there are any food allergies, because “the chef has put together a special menu” for us. This is a heads up that we’re not going to get to pick, but that it’s already been chosen for us. If it’s something that I don’t like, I have to eat it anyways, or the chef will be slighted. It’s one of the perks of being married to a chef.

Inconsiderate In-Laws

Why I Can’t Stand My Father-In-Law
An Essay

My father-in-law (FIL or he from now on) was a bad parent to my husband, a bad husband to my mother-in-law (just ask her, she left him), and now an over-bearing grandparent to my children. He called our house last night, to let us know that he wants to visit. We ask “when?” getting ready to give out the normal excuses that we usually use to stop him from visiting. “Oh” he says “we already booked the tickets, just now, and we’ll be there on Sunday, and we’re staying for a week.” MOTHERF’ER. ARE YOU SERIOUS???? WHO DOES THAT? You decided to visit, didn’t ask us first if you could come, or what our schedules looked like, you just went ahead and booked the trip for you and your obnoxious girlfriend. He’s emotionally a 6 year old in a 60 year old’s body. Everything is done the way he wants it to be done, even when he’s not at home. Last time he visited, which was about 3 years ago, thank god, I was almost homicidal. Frank is lucky, because he’ll be working the entire time. I’ll be the one stuck entertaining them. Because god forbid they actually have a plan before they come out here. They expect you to have an itinerary set up for them, dance hoops around their dietary issues (he doesn’t eat beans, or Mexican, or anything with sauce, she picks at everything and complains about EVERYTHING) and drop everything to cater to them.

My house won’t be clean enough for the girlfriend, so F her. He’s supposedly shipping crates of god knows what out on the train to Maricopa so that he can go pick it up when he gets here. Shit that I’ll have to throw away as soon as he leaves. We're currently in a mad scramble to hide or ditch the stuff that we've just tossed in the garage from him, because he pretty much buys dollar store crap or ugly clothes.

In addition to that, I've been hiding the Christmas presents in the guest room, which is where they'll be staying. If we instruct them to keep the kids out, and especially out of the closet, he will go out of his way to show the kids the closet, because he's that big of an asshole. It's his way one-upping us. Wrecking our Christmas so that he can come in and save the day with a "new Christmas." So I have to find a new place to hide the presents.

We told them that they need to rent a car, because they can’t be at the house all the time. Frank is working on a list of things for them to do. This is challenging, because he's not into culture and she doesn't like to do anything that involves walking or not spending money. Thank god there's a casino two miles from my house.

He’s totally critical of my parenting skills, even though he could easily qualify for worst parent of the year, and Frank’s got the scars to prove it. His biggest complaint is that my kids are too scheduled and sleep too much. You know what? My kids go to bed between 7:00 and 7:30. I don’t care that Terri and Phil let their kids stay up all night long, my kids know that they need to be in their rooms at least 10 hours a night, and I do not want to hear from them at all during that time. So I know that he’s going to bitch that he doesn’t see the kids enough, seeing as how I’ll be taking them to school/daycare at 7:15 AM before he gets up (because he already told us that they won’t be watching the kids while we’re not home and to keep them in daycare for the week), and picking them up when I get out of work, usually not walking in the door until 6:00 PM or so. This pretty much means as soon as I get in the door, I start dinner, feed them, and in an hour it’s bedtime. And that’s when he’ll start to complain that he’s not getting enough time with the kids.

Oh yeah, and the girlfriend is a chain smoker who's going to complain about having to smoke outside, and even at that, I'm going to lay down the law and tell her that if she needs to smoke, she can't do it in the backyard either, it has to be in the front yard, which she'll hate, because she's one of those people who doesn't like to leave the house without a facefull of makeup. I'll probably have to get the house fumigated after she leaves though because the reek of smoke will follow her everywhere.

ARRGH!!!!!!!!

Thanksgiving Excess

Too much turkey.

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. Mostly because it’s a grown-up holiday that the stores can’t commercialize too much. This Thanksgiving, like most, my husband worked. He’s a chef at a resort, so he gets stuck working all major holidays. Therefore I cooked dinner just for me and the kids. I opted for a non-creative Thanksgiving, doing just a 4 lb turkey breast, box stuffing, mashed potatoes (real potatoes easy, box potatoes yucky), jar cranberry, box pumpkin pie and homemade cranberry bread pudding. It took just a few minutes to prep and the cooking was done in about 2 hours. I timed it right, even after an hour delay for an extremely crabby teething toddler, and had dinner on the table right at 12:30. The bread pudding was a masterpiece. I took pictures which I will post as I am rather proud of my accomplishment. Then Frank came home at 7:30 with another whole turkey breast, this one larger than the one I had made, already cooked. Plus a few pounds of beef roast, sausages and cornbread. He also brought home a raw, thawed 14 pound turkey. I had to cook that turkey yesterday. We will be eating turkey for the next week.

This Thanksgiving was also significant in that I actually had a plan in place for the Black Friday sales, managed to get out to the stores (not super early, but around 9:00 AM), and bought 80% of what I needed for Christmas. The kids don’t want anything big this year, just stupid little toys like Littlest Pet Shop, High School Musical Dolls, and Barbie. On Sunday night I assigned wrapping paper colors, and got it all wrapped up and stored in the closet. I color code the wrapping paper, like Adeline gets red background paper, Anaya gets blue this year, and Avery gets green. It looks pretty under the tree that way, and then its easy for the kids to know what presents they can open. My biggest excitement on Friday shopping was that I managed to pick up three old fashioned red plaid flannel nightgowns for the kids. I like them to coordinate, and I’ve been looking for these nightgowns for a while now. They’re hard to find in Arizona, and I didn’t want to spend a ton of money at somewhere like L L Bean or Land’s End.

My Mom is smart in that she just sends me a check for the kids presents, and tells me what to buy, and that way I reserve the right to veto her toy selections. My father-in-law buys the kids all sorts of stuff, and then pays a fortune to send it out via UPS. Kind of silly in my mind, and kind of annoying at times because he’ll do stuff like buy dollar store junk that I just throw away as soon as the kids loose interest.

Confessions of a Mom of a Biter

Please see teacher for incident report. These six small words strike fear into the heart of daycare parents all over the country. In the majority of cases, it’s the instant quickening of the heart-beat, the “oh my god, what happened to my child” moment. In the minority, it’s parents like me who immediately jump to “oh god, who did my darling progeny bite or hit today?” This time, my child was the one who got bit. The irony is that she got a chunk taken out of her arm by a new girl. The new girl had just changed daycares because the mom was traumatized when her darling got bit at the old daycare (my daycare provider was almost gleeful that she got to tell the Mom that her child wasn’t as pure as driven snow). I of course was of the opinion that Avery probably deserved to get bit. And, in fact, after hearing the story, I still think Avery deserved the bite (she took a block away from the girl that bit her).

I’m the mom of a biter. The rest of you Mom’s hate me, because obviously I have no control over my child and don’t discipline her, otherwise she wouldn’t be a biter. To clarify, I’m actually the mom of two biters, one reformed, one current. The good news is, biters tend to stop biting when they become more verbal. The bad news is, sometimes it last for two years or more. My youngest, Avery, is almost 16 months old. She’s very active and aggressive. She’s the kid that takes toys from other kids, and it doesn’t matter to her if you’re twice her size. Once she gets what she wants in her sweaty fat hands, she’ll lay down on top of the item in question, and hold it hostage until you give up and go away. She also knows how to tackle, and can take down the bigger kids, in her attempt to rule the playroom. At home, I hear “Mom, Avery’s (insert here- hitting/biting/pulling hair), take her out of the room” at least twice every 10 minutes. At daycare, they tell me she’s much better than that, but then again, she’s been there long enough to have whipped the kids into submission. Her favorite words are “My” “No” and “Stop it.” In fact, “Stop it” was her first word, said with the hand held up in the universal stop or talk to the hand gesture. I find it really hard to lay down the law with this one, because she’s just too damn funny. I know she’s being manipulative, but I can’t help it. When you yell at her, she comes you and say “kiss.” How can you continue to yell at a kid who just wants to kiss you? And even then, she’s sneaky. She’ll be all kissy, and then when you least expect it, she’ll sneak in a bite, and laugh like crazy, and you know what? It is funny. She’s my last baby, and I’m going to give in to her.

Anaya's Birthday

Anaya turned four yesterday. A momentous occasion, because it means the hellish threes are finally in the past (the terrible twos are nowhere near as bad as the hellish threes). We had a family party, just the five of us, with a Tinkerbelle theme. Tinkerbelle movie, dolls, shirts and of course cake. Now, I put my husband in charge of the cake. Told him to go to Wal-Mart, order the cake, buttercreme frosting (not the nasty ass whipped topping crap), and make sure it's Tinkerbelle. So he does, and manages to even pick it up on time. But, in a very husbandly move, he's ordered a 1/2 sheet cake. It's like two feet by three feet worth of buttercreme goodness, but still, way too much for the five of us. Made worse by the fact that he's a freaking chef, and knows what a goddamn 1/2 sheet pan looks like. Such a guy move.

Bring on the Dems!

I'm a liberal liberal. My political leanings could be termed socialist. I am thrilled that Obama has been elected president of this nation (I missed out on John McCain's concession, as I was watching a TIVO'd episode of 3rd Rock From the Sun), and I think that he will do a great job. We gave the Republicans 8 years to screw up the economy, now the Democrats will fix it. The election of Obama will put us in a better position with the rest of the world as well (except for his fixation on Pakistan, I just don't understand that). Finally the land of opportunity has elected someone other than an rich white guy to the highest office in the land (though Obama is a rich half white guy, so maybe it's not so different after all?).

In local politics, Arizona wasn't so lucky. Prop 102 was supported by 56% of the voters, and will change the Constitution of the state to define marriage as only between one man and one woman. I don't know about you, but I think that this is just stupid. Why can't a woman marry another woman or a man marry another man? What's so wrong with letting people who love each other make a commitment to each other that is legally enforceable in the eyes of the law? It's just shortsighted and mean to exclude gay people from marriage.

Some of My Favorite Things

Yesterday I came across a box of stuff that I haven't opened in probably 7 years. This is because between 1999 and 2003, I moved 5 times, including cross country. This box in particular was from my Mom's house, and was actually full of stuff from high school. It just got put inside another box during one of the moves and somehow wound up under the bathroom sinks. It was opened up today in a futile search for nail polish remover. Amidst the detritus of half filled notebooks (math notes mostly, some Latin for some reason in the same notebook), random notes from friends, a pair of wool socks, and a glove, there was a tub of Carmex and a few sticks of blue gum. Back in high school, I always had Carmex and sugarless gum in my pocket. I preferred Alpine Mint, but any blue gum would do. My particular flavor is gone, so I've switched to Extra peppermint, but it's really not the same. The gum was totally stale, and unchewable, but the Carmex was still good. In fact, after I loaded up on the Carmex, I kissed my husband, and he made the immediate connection to senior year.

I Am Unemployed

I am unemployed and I hate it. Absolutly hate it.

My Life In Blog Form

From Charlotte aka Look Out Spokane!

20 years ago: October 1988- Fifth grade. Fulton School. My youngest brother wasn't even born yet, and actually, wasn't even conceived at this point. I don't remember much about 5th grade. I finally lost my last baby tooth, but the adult tooth wouldn't come in for about a year. It's cute when you're missing teeth in like 1st or 2nd grade. It's not so cute when you wear a bra, and are still loosing baby teeth.

10 years ago: October 1998- 20 years old. Junior Year at UMass Amherst. Declared my major in accounting. Had enough credits that I was a senior by January, and took off the first semester of should have been my senior year for an internship. Living with Andrea at Southpoint during the week, and living in Cranston with Frank on the weekends (well, Thursday to Sunday most weeks). Frank and I had dated for 3 years at that point. I was the 6th roommate, who didn't pay rent, but occasionally bought them all food, cleaned the kitchen and the bathroom. I had keys to the Cranston house. I bought my first brand new car in 1998, a Ford Escort. Drank a lot, especially at Murphy's, because they didn't ID. Fun fact, Frank proposed at Murphy's in February 2000, in what was probably the least romantic proposal of all time. Drink of choice at Amherst was Zima, in Rhode Island it was beer.

5 years ago: October 2003- 25 years old, married for 3 years, mom to a 6 month old, living in Phoenix. I would be pregnant again in 4 months. We had bought our first house, and were settling into life in the burbs.

3 years ago: October 2005- 27, married for 5 years, mom to a 2.5 year old and a 1 year old. We moved to house #2 in Phoenix. I was working in mortgage still, and exhausted by just about everything. This was the year that my friends started to get married too, so I was back and forth to Massachusetts a ridiculous amount of times.

1 year ago: Just went back to work after my maternity leave with child #3 (third and final baby). Working in construction now, after being laid off from mortgage. Pretty content with how life was working out. Sox were in the playoffs, but I was pretty sure the season would be over quickly. I was wrong.

Today (Wednesday): Unemployed. Searched the job boards, did a preliminary for a payroll position. Hung out with my parents and kids. Started clipping coupons, because if I don't have a job, I need to figure out how to make major budget cuts. Kind of depressed because I've really lost my purpose in life. Hoping someone will make a run to the border for me and pick up some anti-depressants or some other fun stuff. Watched Project Runway and Top Design.

Tomorrow (Thursday): Get up, make some calls, see if I can schedule any interviews. If not, Cheryl and I will take the kids to the PHX Zoo, and my dad and Frank will go to Fall Ball to see the Scottsdale Scorpions play baseball. Maybe Frank and I will actually get to celebrate our anniversary that happened on Tuesday. We haven't been coherent at the same time since Sunday when he got me at the airport.

Fun stuff. It's been an eventful 20 years.

Eight Years and Counting

Today is my 8th Wedding Anniversary. It is traditionally the Bronze Anniversary, with the modern gifts being linens and lace. My husband woke up this morning and told me it was the spatula anniversary. I don't even begin to guess why. I think the linens and lace would be if you survived the 7 year itch (lots of marriages break up at either 7 years or 13 years, go figure), then you go out and splurge on new bedding and fancy underwear or something like that.

What Does Color Say About Your Job?

I took this survey on Careerbuilder.com: http://www.careerpath.com/career-tests/colorcareercounselor.aspx

It's about what your color preference says about what you "should" do as a career. I gravitate towards the blues and purples, which makes me firstly an "Organizer" and secondly as a "Researcher." Key words are: Self-Control, Practical, Self-Contained, Orderly, Systematic, Precise, and Accurate. This puts me smack dab into bookkeeping, which is my career of choice. I guess I choose my college major wisely. People will always want a paycheck, and bills always have to be paid, so I've yet to have problems finding a job.

My Girl Crush on Martha Stewart

I'll fully admit it, I have a thing for Martha Stewart. She's so authorotative and knows how to do just about anything (in a need a birthday card, I'll show you how to make one out of a ceral box and some twine type of way). I'm sure she is horrible to live with, but a part of me wishes I could be that much of a type-A bitch. I find myself watching the Fine Living Network so I catch her show. I aspire to make some of the crafts that she makes, though I'm not as gifted as she is. If I tried to emboss sheets of tin to make my own candle boxes, I'm sure I'd either hurt myself or someone else. Or maybe even burn the house down.

Strange Dreams

I had a dream on Saturday night that my husband took a transfer to the Waltham MA, Westin hotel. We had to move quickly, and in the awful Arizona housing market, we were unable to unload our house, so we rented it out ($1400 for a 5 bed, 3.5 bath, I have very detailed dreams). Because we moved so quickly, we moved in with my sister-in-law and her kids, in his childhood home in Weymouth MA. Now, this is where it gets odd. I decided that I needed completely re-do the kitchen. I mean, I totally stripped down and refinished the cabinets, bought all new appliances and got new counters installed. Painted the place too, a very pale blue (right now it's awful yellow with 20+ year old cabinets and appliances). My father-in-law hated it, pitched a fit and kicked us out of the house. He doesn't even live in the house that he kicked us out of.



So, what does this dream say about me? Obviously, I'm aching to move back to Massachusetts. It looks like I'll put up with a lot of crap if I'm willing to move into that house.



Anyone want to buy a house? $375K OBO- 5 beds, 3.5 baths. Master on 2nd floor, 2nd Master Suite/attached casita on 1st with full bath and sitting room. Cable in all bedrooms. 12X24 fenced pool, fully landscaped backyard. Just over 3000 sq ft.

It's what you like, not what you're like that matters

That's a quote from High Fidelity, one of my favorite movies. But it got my husband and I talking. We both have a thing for horrible, awful, cheesy movies. My tastes run towards natural disaster movies, like the "10.5" made for TV series, while he likes sci-fi movies about animals and insects that have grown unnaturally large such as "Night of the Lepus." So what does this say about us? If it's all about what you like, does this mean that we both have horrible tastes? Is this a major reason why we work so well together? If it makes any difference, we both really liked the cartoon "Thundercats."

Don't Hate Me, We Have A Pool

Adeline & Anaya jump off the elevated section of the pool wall.

There's no question. You really need to have a pool to be able to survive the Phoenix summers. Hopefully by next year the oldest two will learn to swim on their own.

Random Pictures Summer 2008

We went to Northern Arizona this summer, in late July. Frank was allowed to set the itinerary. We wound up driving to Winslow, just to take this picture.

One of many Rt 66 Markers that we passed on our trip.

A cheesy roadside attraction. "The Longest Map of US Route 66" somewhere off the highway. They didn't have any Diet Coke, but they did have a large fiberglass teepee, and lots of postcards.

Some of the rocks in Sedona. Very pretty, kind of a tourist trap.

Simple Things for Simple People

Kids are able to find utmost joy in the simple things in life, and we totally lose that when we hit teenagerhood. My oldest came home from school today and was so excited, because on Friday, she can wear whatever she wants, so long as she donates $1 to the school fund. This is a big deal for her, as she's in a uniform school, and pink is not part of the school uniform. She was pissed when I told her that she couldn't wear pink, or dresses for that matter. So, on Friday, she will be wearing either a pink Hannah Montana shirt or a pink butterfly dress. I'm sure it will all come down to her mood on that day. I wish I could be able to get that excited over something as simple as wearing a favorite shirt to school (or work).

My Family Has The Plague

Yes, we have The Plague. Or something else equally horrible, because whatever else would have kept me from writing witticisms daily? Seriously, I have a cold. Anaya- aka Typhoid Mary- has a cold. Avery is teething. All in all, pretty typical health conditions down here on the farm.

You may ask, why is Anaya Typhoid Mary? Because if there is something to be caught, you can guarantee that Anaya will get it, malinger, and spread it to the whole house. She gets affectionate when she's ill, and spreads the love and the germs all over the place. Between her, Avery's general bitchiness (yes, I called my one year old a Bitch, get over it. She is a bitch.), and my moments of fever induced madness, I attempt to sleep.

What sucks is that while everyone else in the house gets babied when they're sick, no one babies me. When my husband is sick, I get him water and cold pills. What does he do for me? He tells me "babe, don't breathe on me, I have 500 scrapbookers in the hotel this week and can't afford to get sick." He doesn't even get me water with the right ice cubes (I like the cubes, not the crushed ice in water, if we were talking about soda, I'd want the crushed, it's not too difficult to remember). I had to get up at 4:00 AM this morning when the older two, for reasons unknown to the rest of the world, decided to put band-aids all over themselves. No amount of kicking would wake my husband, so I needed to break up the little bathroom party that they were throwing.

That brings us to the insight of the day- Dammit, I deserve to be babied when I'm sick too.

Slackerism and Wacky Weather

So I already skipped a day in my one blog a day. We'll blame my tendencies toward slackerism for that one. Yep, I'm a slacker. I blame the school system. School was always easy for me (I have a pretty unique learning style by the way, if I hear something, I generally learn it, which allowed me to work on the crossword during lecture rather than taking notes), so I never built up good study habits. This can be a problem in real life, because it's pretty easy for me to just get by.



Now, onto Wacky Weather. Arizona has two seasons, hot and not hot. The hot is sometimes interrupted with the monsoon. Lots of wind, some rain, lots of lightening. It can be fun. Right now, on the East side of the Valley, there's a pretty wicked storm going on. On the West side, not so much. The lightening isn't so fun anymore though. My Dad had the brilliant idea to tell my kids this summer that lightening can kill you. Now, they have mini panic attacks, even during heat lightening storms. My father told them that lightening will kill you by cooking you, and your brains fall out of your head. Thanks Dad. The lesson learned? Guys will make thoughtless parenting decisions even as grandparents. A Mom or a grandmother would never tell a child that lightening will cook you and make your brains fall out of your head (even if it is true), but a guy would totally do that, in a heartbeat.

Define Irony

The definition of irony- the guy who co-authored the book "100 Things to Do Before You Die" died at the young age of 47, when he fell down at home and hit his head.

I guess if any guy knew how to live each day as if it was his last, it would be him.

My Car is a POS

The thought of the day is that my car is a total POS, and I can't afford to buy a new one, so I'm stuck with it. The A/C is dying. It makes funny rattles. The clutch and or transmission is starting to go, and it smells funny. Admittedly, the funny smell isn't so much a mechanical defect as it is a result of my being a slob. But, the other issues are mechanical. Plus, it's Frank's turn to pick a new car, so I know we'll be getting a Ford Ranger or other small truck. Something totally useless, as we have three kids who will never be able to fit into a small truck. ARGH!

No More Babies

The thought of the day is that while part of me would love to have another kid, a larger part of me is really glad that I'll never have to live through the infant stage again.

Gingerbread

My first revelation is that gingerbread is good anytime of the year. Gingerbread, it's not just for Christmas time, it's for anytime.

The kids were bugging me all day to make cookies. I thought I had sugar cookie mix (don't start, I know it's super easy to make from scratch), but I didn't. Instead, I had two bags of peanut butter cookie mix that expired in 2006- they were pitched into the trash- and eight bags of gingerbread mix. I'm not sure why I had eight bags of gingerbread, but suffice to say, that's what was in the pantry, and why we made gingerbread cookies today, in August, when it was 100+ degrees outside.

Today I Turn 30

Today I turn 30. For some reason, this has become a source of stress for me. Maybe it's because it's really the end of extended adolescence. The beginning of real adulthood. This shouldn't be an issue for me. I've been financially independent (well mostly) for ten years. I've been married for eight years. I have a five year old, and two more besides that.

So, in honor of this momentous occasion, and inspired by my friend Sandy, I have decided to spend the year discovering new things. Now, unlike Sandy, I won't be attempting to try a new thing everyday, but I will attempt to be more introspective. I have set a goal for myself that I will blog daily, and try to find one thing each day that is a new to me concept or way of looking at something. Tonight, at the end of the day, I will be posting my first entry into the year of introspection. I'm not promising any huge breakthroughs or earth shattering ideas, but who knows? We all might learn something from this year.

Bring Back the Ford Escort

I'm interested in the SmartCar, but I have the burden of three kids. So, I've started to look at alternatives such as the Fit and Yaris.

During the late 1990's and early 2000's my Dad and I both drove Ford Escorts. Bare bones, manual transmission Escorts. And, even back then, in these very non-technological cars, we averaged 35 miles to the gallon. On some memorable long highway trips (Boston to Orlando, Boston to Baltimore) we got almost 40 miles to the gallon. Why not bring back the tried and true cars that ran well? My Dad's Ford ran for 11 years, and had over 200K on it before my brother ran it into a marsh. And, we're not car people who know how to fix things, so it wasn't like we provided extraordinary life support for these cars.

A Day In The Life Of A Quasi-Single Mom

Quasi-Single Mom- A Mom who pretty much single parents even though I have a husband. He's just never home. It's OK sometimes, because the house runs like I want it to run, with very few interuptions, but it gets lonely.

Today was a normal day. The older two were up by 7:00 AM. They don't even bother us in the mornings now. They just get up, go downstairs and watch Disney. Adeline, the oldest of the three, usually gets the drinks (she's quite skilled at pouring and correctly assembling sippy cups). I did yell this morning, because the TV was too loud, but other than that, it was good. Avery didn't start hollering until 8:00, so I actually got to sleep in (pathetic what passes for sleeping in when there are kids in the house). She hasn't started walking yet, or attempting to climb out of the crib, but it's only a matter of time. If the pattern holds true, I'll have her in a bed by the time shes a year and a half.

At some point around 9:30, Frank got up and went to work.

Around 10:30, Avery was ready for a nap. This meant the older two could go swimming. The swim was cut short though when they decided to throw rocks into my pool. They were promptly pulled from the pool and told to stay outside until they were dried off. Apparently, my sprinkler system is screwed up, because they came inside 45 minutes later and covered with grass and dirt from the sprinklers. Where was I this whole time? Hiding in my room, attempting to nap. Hey, we have fences, they're fine out back alone.

At 2:00, we made the weekly run to Walmart. I have to say, Walmart is evil. I really don't like it, but it's too cheap to bypass. Avery is still on formula, even though she's over a year, because of skin issues. This means that I'm still running to the store every two weeks or so to stockpile soy formula.

When we got home, Avery turned into evil child, and attacked her sisters over and over again. Anaya was the main target, since Adeline usually has the piece of mind to get up and out of reach. Avery likes to pull hair. Today was lots of hair pulling and head smacking, all the while yelling "Stop!" as she pulled. I used to think that Anaya was the devil incarnate, but Avery may be taking that title.

The final reprieve came at 8:00, when they finally went to bed. I settled on the couch to watch TV, capping off a pretty normal day in my life. It's after 11:00, and my husband still isn't home. I single parented all day.