Thursday, January 22, 2009

Something to Think About

This evening after a delicious dinner of fajitas, I was serving the boys pudding cups. I accidentally dropped one cup, and it opened a bit, leaking some pudding onto the floor. My 4 yr old promptly stepped in it (duh) and was sent upstairs for new socks.

As he came down he asked, "Was that my pudding you spilled?"

I said no, because knowing that question was coming, I gave it to his brother who would never know the difference (can't wait for that day to come), and Champ just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Okay."

I chuckled to myself because he's so predictable, and then it occurred to me, "Oh my God, children are natural liberals!"

As long as he wasn't affected or getting less, he really didn't care about the spill. Just like all those people out there who don't care that some people will be taxed more, as long as their slice of the pie remains intact, they don't care who gets hurt.

So very, very interesting.

Simple minds, I guess.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Anyone Have a Rock that I can Crawl Under?

So, I'm on Facebook all day. Seriously. ALL DAY. I'm not ashamed of this, but I know it's ridiculously excessive. I have a lap top, and I leave it open in my living room. When I have a spare second I check out my page, my email, Perez Hilton. I'm not sitting in front of it nonstop, but I do check it a lot.

Anyway, I don't really like to Instant Message my friends because I know I don't really enjoy it when people IM me. Facebook is kinda my alone time, my time to veg out and do my own thing. However, if I see my husband pop up on my available friends list, I'm totally going to IM him. And I did it today.

"Hey bitch." Heehee, I crack myself up.

"Meeting with Mr. Big Game, don't write again." He writes back.

Whoops! So I shut him down and didn't think much of it, until he called me later.

"So, I was in a meeting with Mr. Big Game, the Doctor, and Ms. Smarty-Pants, showing them how Facebook can be a useful marketing resource..." Begins my husband.


"Was your computer screen projected?" Omg, I might hurl.



Luckily, this is something that my husband is capable of laughing about, and we laughed a lot! He's been with me long enough to know that I'm a total nut-job, and he's not really embarrassed by me or what I have to say.

"Well, at least I didn't ask you what you were wearing..."

Thursday, January 15, 2009

The Happy Homemaker's Survey

I love filling little surveys out. They're not terribly original, I know, but are revealing none-the-less. And when I saw this in June's archives, I knew I had to fill it out. The questions are HILARIOUS.

Most often with nothing underneath. Oh, I mean, yes, I have one, but I don't wear it. I think aprons are really cute, in theory, but have yet to find one that fits well.

I like to bake cookies and brownies, but don't do it very often. Seriously, my husband and I don't have much will power when it comes to baked goods.

No. Especially since I read that allergens attach themselves to fabrics hanging outside. My husband and son both suffer from allergies. There's not much one can do to prevent that, but bringing allergens IN is not wise.

(Does this question seem kinda random to anyone else?) I like the classic Old-fashioned glazed donuts. The ones at Starbucks are super yummy. We also like those mini powdered donuts. When I was pregnant with Champ, I'd eat them by the box. Also very good after a night of heavy drinking.

I'm pretty obsessive with wiping down my counter tops. I love Clorox Wipes. I used to sweep obsessively, but kinda don't care anymore. Now I'm really anal about toys & kid clutter. I really spend a lot of time keeping all of their shit where it belongs. Stuff has a way of getting all over the house. Anyone seen Toy Story? The scene where the little troops are doing recon and the Mom comes out of the kitchen and is like "Ug, I thought I told him to put these toys away?"... yeah, I really don't have a hard time believing that they move on their own.

We have an extra fridge in the garage. It's full of milk, Diet Coke, and beer. We also have a big freezer, it's pretty full. The power to it went out two summers ago and it broke my heart to throw all that food away.

Yes. I've had a couple incidents with it that required a 24 hour plumber. (Who actually has a plumbing emergency during business hours?)

My Mom, my laptop, my friends.

I used to iron before I had kids, but now I won't do it. First of all, who has the time? Second, I'm TERRIFIED one of the boys would pull the hot iron off the board. I dry clean everything that won't look nice out of the dryer. I should also mention that I don't wear clothes that really require ironing.

Yes, in the kitchen. I hate it. Wish I could get rid of it for good, but where else would I put my rubber bands, matches, tape, twist ties, thumb tacks, little labels, random office supplies that I definitely thought I would find useful, candy, markers, broken toys, expired coupons, Pez dispensers, pencils that need to be sharpened, paperclips, etc etc...

It's pretty boring. We moved in 2 years ago, and every 6 months or so I VOW that this will be the year that we get it all painted. It's brown, along with almost every other wall the original owners hired chimps to paint for them. At the risk of offending all the people out there who love brown, I fucking HATE it. It's okay during the day when the sun is out, but later in the afternoon and at night, it's like a cave. I'm thinking yellow, and there's a big wall by our table that I'd love to put a neat yellow striped wall paper on. My husband thinks I'm nuts, but I think it'll be great. In 2015. When it's finally done.

Well, I pretty much bounced from job to job for quite a while, not really living up to my full potential. I just knew in my heart that sleeping in and watching soaps was what I was born to do. And I did pay $30,000 per year for my MRS degree, I figured it was time to get serious about that. So, here I am. Sitting on my thrown, listening to my beautiful children play happily with each other, the scent of my 5 course dinner, being lovingly prepared by my personal chef, wafting through the air...

I use a Swiffer Wet Jet. Actually I just use the pads and have a spray bottle with Mr. Clean and a splash of bleach that I spray all over the floor. Does the job, I guess.

The last time I wore nylons was because I was FORCED to. That's a long story. I could possibly be talked into telling it, but I'd have to be a little drunk.

I open the door.

Thin crust with pepperoni, onions, mushrooms and black olives.

I'm sorry, I didn't hear your question... it's a little loud, wait, let me go into another room. Oh! Of course, quiet time. Yeah. Hmmm... it's been awhile. So long that I don't remember it. I'll have to get back to you on this.

No. I have a little binder with recipes in it. I also have a coupon type file sorter full of recipes that I've pulled from magazines that I'd like to try. All divided into categories like poultry, red meat, pasta, sides. Really easy to find a new chicken recipe when I'm looking to do something different. If I make it and like it, I'll put it in my little book.

Um, is Battle Ship a style? It's a tri-level. The outside is gray... I don't think it's a pretty house at all, but it's what's inside that counts, right? (Poopy brown walls, not with standing.)

No. Are you kidding? I have 2 little boys and a husband. But I do have some very cute place mats and cloth napkins that reside in a drawer and have been out twice. I love them too much to feed the animals off of them.

Pretty organized. Just dish soap, wash clothes, Clorox Wipes, and some extra hand sanitizer under there. All of our cleaning supplies are up so high that I need a step stool to reach them. My husband is pretty anal about home safety, and I guess I can't argue with him about protecting our children from ingesting poisonous chemicals, right?

Another thing I used to be super anal about. We have a Newfoundland dog who sheds like crazy. I used to vacuum like crazy, but 3 or so years ago we started having her hair cut short (which is a big no-no in the Newfie breeding community). As a result, not so much hair everywhere. Also, my vacuum is kinda crappy. It's a hand-me-down and is really starting to suck... well, actually, NOT suck is more like it. I was desperately hoping for a Dyson for my birthday or Christmas. I even told my 4 year old that I wanted a vacuum, and anyone with a 4 year old knows that they are like a dog with a bone on topics like that. Alas, husband is deaf and didn't get the message.

I really try to do laundry everyday. It's a nightmare if you get behind. It used to drive me crazy that my mom had so much laundry just sitting and sitting and sitting in the laundry room. But now I kinda get it. Once you're behind it's so hard to catch up. And she had 5 times the children I do, that's 10 kids for those of you not paying attention. Shit. Can you IMAGINE that? Seriously, I know what it looks like. It's NOT pretty. Also, it may seem like the boys have a lot of clothes, but they really don't. I have to do wash often if I don't want them to look like dirty orphans.

Not really. Occasionally I'll make a list of things I want done over the weekend so my husband knows what I expect to be accomplished. Rarely does it all get done. I do have a list of little things to do, but it's been around for MONTHS and it's become part of the scenery. I don't even "see" it anymore.

Oh, Gardener takes care of all that. He's also rather clever in the sack...

Wash out my wine glass, make sure the dishwasher is on, make sure the beasts haven't migrated out of bed and onto the floor, take my vitamins, read for a while, and pass the fuck out.

Monday, January 12, 2009

Geese Suck

Particularly if a comforter full of their feathers explodes in a dryer. It's like someone shot a fucking bird in my basement. As if the dust bunnies needed the competition...


I would like to thank my friend C for saying that things like this only happen to me. I was beginning to suspect that and am relieved it's not residual pot-paranoia, but instead, the far graver reality of my life.

FYI, I've scooped up as many feathers as my patience allowed and am ignoring the rest. Seeing as this happened in my basement, I'm not so concerned. They will give the cat something to do after pooping, or in the event that we get a mouse, will help him establish a cozy home. One day I will shop-vac the bejezus out of the basement, but not today. I'm busy drinking.

Friday, January 09, 2009

Deanna Pappas: Fame Whore

Yeah, I said it. You know you were thinking it. Seriously, first she dumps poor Jason and then when he gets his own show, she shows up. Because she's the type who wants her cake and wants to eat it too. What a bitch.

You know what else I'm thinking? I love ABC. Seriously. Not only have they come up with The Bachelor and The Bachelorette, they "scour" the country for the biggest fame whores and hot men (who are also whores) who are conveniently willing to find love. On TV. On a private jet. In the Bahamas. With a Doctor/Prince/Navy Officer/Englishman. Seriously, some of these twits would probably fall in love with a monkey if plied with enough alcohol.

Of course, I have some "favorites" this year. "Skeletor" is a particularly tragic character. Her husband was killed in a plane crash (which is terrible). I'm glad she had a plastic surgeon on hand to console herself with and make sure that life insurance didn't go to waste. Poor "Visualization Boards" probably didn't visualize getting the boot on national TV, but really, they're all so deluded (and drunk), that none of them can comprehend why. "But we had a connection..." Oh, and "Baby Momma" who left her 14 month old to be on the show. Really. 14 months. She won the "Send One Girl Home" contest by a landslide, only to not really be sent home. "Baby Momma" is now Pissed Off, and should be very pleasant for the others to live with.

Honestly, it was only lukewarm. It was like every other first episode, just killed 2 hours of my night. Until ABC pulled out their Ace (of Spades, the one with the poisonous dagger), the return of Deanna. Wow. Holy, holy shit. I'm shocked, appalled, and absolutely fucking giddy with excitement. This really will be the "Most Dramatic Season Yet!"

YAY! Monday nights have a whole new meaning...

(If you don't understand what I'm talking about, then this may not be the blog for you.)

Tuesday, January 06, 2009



One tiny word, so much angst. My oldest never really went through the "Why?" phase. But I'm making up for it in spades with my 2 year old. Good Lord, how do you answer this question over and over and over?

"Princess Jasmin's pet tiger is Raja." Why?

"That's the name she gave him." Why?

"Um, maybe she thought it was pretty." Why?

Seriously? How can I do this? I feel guilty not answering a question. I mean, despite all evidence to the contrary, he is a sweetheart and I want to do everything for him, but this is maddening. I know I'm not the first mommy to go crazy about this, and certainly won't be the last, but really, could somebody please tell me how to answer this??

Monday, January 05, 2009

Happy Birthday Max

My baby brother would be 9 years old today. It's a little surreal that so much time can pass, that someone can be missing from your life for so long. It's hard to explain the loss of someone who I didn't really know, it's not something I really grasp. I do feel it more keenly since becoming a mother. The loss of a child, an infant, is particularly tragic when you have children of your own. I wish I had a video of him, professional pictures of our day with him. Pictures of the funeral, the burial. It sounds so morbid, but I wish that was something I had known I would want. I don't have much I can share about him, but I can share the eulogy I wrote for his funeral.

12 January 2000

Dear Max,

You came as a surprise, a little unexpected miracle. I remember the joy and giddiness all of us felt to learn that we had been blessed with another rug-rat, another identical face to add to the pack.

It was so much fun to imagine what you would be like. Odds were in favor of another lefty like Tony; another thumb-sucker like Mary; another accident prone kid like PJ; a big heart like Beth's; Becca's work ethic; an angel face like Lucy's; charisma like Molly's; the innocence of Margaret; the music and wisdom of your Father; the love, patience, and understanding of your Mother; and sorry Max, but a temper like mine. It's no wonder that God decided he wanted you back.

Max, there are so many things that you will never do in this world. You will never know the feel of the sun on your face or the feel of the grass between your toes. You will never know the pain of a scraped knee, the heat of a fire, or the cold briskness of a Wisconsin winter. You will never bury your face in the fur of our kitties and come up sneezing from the allergies that all of us have. You will never have to eat chop suey, and we all envy you that. You will never suffer through your first stitches, your first day of school, and your first crush. You will never know the magic of falling in love.

But Max, you have something that all of us want. You will wake up every morning to the songs of the angels. You will spend your days in the arms of the saints before us. You will dine at Christ's table. And as you lay your head to rest on a pillow of clouds among the stars, your Heavenly Mother will kiss you goodnight.

So Max, until we reach our final destination and meet the angel who God could not part with, your brothers and sisters are going to make you a promise. We will live everyday like it is no other, experiencing everything for you. We will live each day so that we might tell you about it later. Everything that we do you will also do. Our days will be yours, and not a moment will pass without us knowing that we are giving part of it to you. Through us you will know this world. You're in for a heck of a ride Max, you had better spend a lot of time with St. Michael.

Meanwhile Max, you watch out for us and keep your sparkling blue eyes on your big sisters and brothers. We all know that our parents are the most wonderful guides for our earthly journey, but it is also comforting to know that someplace up above someone pure and wonderful and innocent will be guiding us like no one ever could.

We love you Maximilian.