Clarifications

I posted that there's a Daddy Daughter Date Night at our church this week. It's actually not at our church. I was confused. It's at Chick-Fil-A. You can go to daddydaughterdate.com and see if there's a Chick-Fil-A near you participating.

They're gonna have tablecloths on the tables and waiters taking your order. There will also be some printed cards with conversation starters on them. :) I think that's pretty funny but helpful. Jason has admitted before that he has a hard time carrying a conversation with the kids sometimes.

I signed him up to take Sarah and Caroline. :)

Also... I apologize for my venting earlier today. It felt good to get it out. I go a little bananas sometimes with the kids. I deleted the post because I don't need to rant about people I love. I'm not upset with them. I get frustrated with the job. Ya know what I mean?

Rodeo time. Yee haw!

I love the Fort Worth rodeo. It's the best!!

This year my parents took Jack. He picked out his ensemble. He said that he wanted to look like he was from the real Texas.

As opposed to the fake Texas??

(He ended up taking the holster off his belt. He decided it was hard to sit with a gun on his hip.)

I'm publishing from my phone.I'll rotate the pic when I get home.

Boo ya!

Can I say "boo-ya"? Not really, huh?

In the garage fridge, I now have baked ziti, chicken enchiladas, beef enchiladas, chicken pot pie, lasagna, and Bertollis (which is kinda cheating). I am now ready for those days in the next few weeks when I  won't feel like cooking. And those days are a-comin'. Guarantee it.

I'm so sick of cooking, I'm tempted to pull one out tonight. Hats off to the women who regularly cook for an entire month. I couldn't do it.

Busy, busy, in a tizzy...

Hurry hurry hurry til we're done... Tra la la la la la la

Anyone recognize that song? "Babes in Toyland". I hope someone used to watch that movie when you were little. A classic! :)

We are busy here at the McGlamery Manor. And I'm slightly overwhelmed. Mostly because I just looked at our month view for February--(February. The month that hasn't even started yet.)-- and I get a dull headache.

Nothing is daunting, but everything seems to be out of the ordinary. And we're not just busy on the weekends. It's during the week.

This week, for example, the out of the ordinary includes--

Tonight: Celebrate Recovery. Well, I guess that's standard Monday night stuff.

Tuesday: Jack needs to wear PJs to school. I need to meet with workman about repairing the ceiling and roof.

Tuesday night: HOA meeting. They're trying to raise our dues to improve the entrance to our neighborhood. We're against it. But we need to go to the meeting tomorrow night and again next week to vote against it. Life in the 'burbs is so challenging. ;)

Wednesday: Sarah needs to dress up like she's 100 yrs old because it's the 100th day of school. I need to meet with insurance adjuster about roof and ceiling. And hopefully have workmen start repair.

Wednesday night: Take dinner to Mr. Skip, a worker at our church who had knee replacement surgery.

Thursday: Workmen again. I love scheduling my day around contractors. Don't you?

Friday: Sarah's school conference. And clean up all the dust that will inevitably be in Jack's room from replacing dry wall.

Saturday: Buddy Day at Tae Kwon Do.

Saturday night: Daddy/Daughter Date night at church.

Sunday: Head down to see Jim. Back on Monday.

But Sunday is supposed to be my day to work in preschool so I have to let Paula know to find a sub for me. And since we won't be coming back til Monday, Sarah will be missing a day of school, which will start next week off in a weird way.

.......................

Alright. Take that a day at a time. Nothing's crazy. None of that is hard. Some of that will take all of about 5 minutes. My problem is that it's not part of the norm so I'm worried about forgetting stuff.

Will Sarah survive if she's not dressed up as a little old lady on Wednesday? Yes. But I'll feel bad because it's my job to remember it.

If we don't do Tae Kwon Do on Saturday, does that really matter? No. But on Buddy Day, if you bring a friend, you get to break a board. Jack broke a board on his birthday. We're about to quit TKD to save money so this is Sarah's one and only chance to break a board. I want to make sure we do it.

Workmen suck. We all know that. No one likes to wait for them or keep kids out of the way. But that's life. C'est la vie.

Dinner to Mr. Skip is fast. In theory. But I know we'll end up needing to stay and talk for a little while. My best guess... That errand will end up taking an hour. Seriously.

We were supposed to go down to the farm on Saturday, but Jim has his hunting buddies visiting on Saturday. It would be overwhelming and exhausting for us to show up at the same time. So we switched our plans and are trying to accomodate others by taking the kids down on Sunday.

And even though that sounds simple-- you moms know that we're the ones that pack the kids. And remember the diapers and bed rails for the youngest. And the night lights. And the things that each kid HAS to have to sleep. And the toothbrushes. It's not as simple as "Get in the car, kids."

But like I said, nothing is hard. I think it's just the emotional stress of Jim in the back of my mind on top of it all. And not knowing what the next 2 months are gonna look like. And wanting to be supportive of Jason and handle everything here so that he can be free to handle things there.

I spent my weekend cooking and freezing meals. I have 4 meals in the freezer. Just in case things get crazy. My goal is to have 8 or 9. I'll be working on that this week. I already have them planned out.

But today is supposed to be a beautiful day. :) HOORAY for that!

And like Charlie Brown said to Linus, when asked about his New Year's Resolution, "You know how I usually dread the whole year?"
Linus: "Yes."
Charlie Brown: "Well, this year I'm gonna dread one day at a time."

:) LOL. So wise.

HAPPY MONDAY!!!

We need something else going on...

like we need a hole in the ceiling.

This is Jack's room. Can you make out the bulge in the wall? Water is trapped back there. We likely have a problem with our roof that caused this.

Oh boy.

Saving money

Is it wrong that I kinda hope the recession and crafty ideas on pinterest stick around til after my girls get married?

Ok. I don't actually want the recession to stick around. But I am a little jealous of parents who are marrying their girls off right now. Not only is it acceptable to have a backyard wedding with homemade decorations, it's chic and responsible. I love it. People almost shake their heads in disapproval if they think you're dropping a lot of money on a wedding.

With 3 overlapping college tuitions and 2 weddings to pay for, I sure hope it's still en vogue in 20 years. Because, even if it's not, we still may have votive candles in mason jars and disposable cameras on every table instead of a photographer at the reception.

On the agenda

Today I'm taking Jack to Men's Wearhouse to be measured for a rented suit. We're gonna get the suit picked out and on file at the store so that we can simply call them when we need to have it ready.

We're at that point of the process with Jim. I think that's why I had my reflective-- and arguably, depressing-- post yesterday about journaling.

Jim's tumor had shrunk by 55% as of his December 16th MRI. But the way Jason explains it (and I kinda like his analogy)is the tumor is like an alien blob in a sci-fi movie. You shoot it with a super powerful gun, and what happens every time? The big alien blob explodes and becomes 100 little alien blobs that then grow and terrorize the city.

The big tumor did shrink with radiation, but the off-shoots of the original tumor are growing very quickly.

One is completely impairing Jim's cognitive ability. At one point he thought he was working at Chicago Title closing deals. He hasn't worked there in 15 years or so. Another time he thought his wife was his best friend, Les, and he told her he was going out to fill deer feeders. (He thought they were at the lease.)

His balance and strength are very poor. He's fallen in the shower 3 or 4 times, cracking the shower and busting his head open once. He fell and hit his face on the gravel last weekend. And besides the fact that it's concerning, he has put on so much weight from his steroids that Jason guessed he weighs nearly 280 pounds. And my mother-in-law is alone trying to lift him from a dead lift. It's been very challenging for her.

At some point his ability to walk will likely completely go away. They will get hospice care. My MIL is cleaning out a front room in their home to set up a hospital bed there. Hospital beds are big and this room would be very accomodating and also allow Jim to see the TV. And truthfully, when all is said and done, she has said that she will gut and repaint and totally redesign the room. She just doesn't want the next month or two to happen back in her bedroom. I think that's VERY understandable.

That being said-- that's what we're looking at. A month or 2. There's really nothing else that can be done. They could do more radiation and chemo but it would only buy an extra month and would make Jim very sick in the process. Right now he still has most of his hair. He's not in excruciating pain. He's just confused. If they sought treatment, he would be bald... and vomiting... and miserable. They're not gonna do that to him. He will experience pain as this progresses naturally, but they're not going to knowingly inflict it on him through treatments.

We will be going down to see him soon. Jason will be going down every weekend from here on out. Right now Jason's doing well. Staying strong. Being the man of the family, so to speak, and allowing his mom and his sister to break down if they need to. He's keeping it together.

I will definitely keep you updated. It's a sad time, but Jason has said that it's a blessing in some ways that this is moving as quickly as it is. No one wants to watch someone they love suffer for years.

A toast(er) to Oster

This post is not about a toaster. I felt the need to rhyme.

My in-laws bought me an Oster food processor for Christmas. I took it out of the box and read all of the instructions and fretted over where to store all those blades away from small hands and THEN couldn't wait to use it.

Flash forward to two weeks ago. I was making meatloaf I think... or meatballs... it doesn't really matter. I needed bread crumbs and didn't have any of the kind that you buy in a can, already crumbled for you. So I pulled out my food processor.

That's when I noticed that the lid to the food chute was cracked and wouldn't lock properly. If a food processor won't lock, it won't turn on. That's part of its safety features. I hadn't broken it. I hadn't even used it.

I knew I should have let Jason do his ridiculously thorough inspection of all new appliances, toys, and gadgets.

I showed Jason the problem when he got home, and he felt pretty confident that all I needed was a new food chute lid. Small little thing. So I scoured the internet for replacement parts. There are lots of replacement parts available but not the one I needed.

Then I called Oster. They checked to see if they had a food chute lid in stock. Nope.

I told them I didn't have a receipt. I couldn't prove a warranty or when it was purchased. I told them I'd be willing to pay for a whole new lid-- cover, food chute, food chute lid, etc.

They told me not to worry about it. They would ship me a brand new food processor for free!

I asked if they needed me to ship them my old one to prove the damage that I'm claiming. They said no. I could keep it as replacement parts if this new one should need it.

On one hand, I guess it should concern me that they alluded to the fact that even this new one might break and need replacement parts. And maybe the model that I have was a horrible seller and they're looking for ways to give those things away.

But I'm gonna hush that pessimistic voice in my head and simply be grateful for good customer service. An entirely new food processor shipped to my door with no proof of purchase or damage required! My new gadget should be here in 6 to 8 business days. And I'm a happy customer. :)

I just got...

...an email for a Living Socials deal on a Brazilian wax.

Hmm.

Is that really something you want to get a good deal on?? I think that's more like something you'd pay twice as much as its worth to make sure it's done right.

And that's DEFINITELY something that you'd wait to present the coupon AFTER the service has been rendered. You don't need some aesthetician with hot wax thinking that she's not gonna get a good tip because you're some cheapskate that brought in a Living Socials voucher.

I did it again

I ate 3 Little Debbie Be my Valentine Heart cakes while waiting for my Lean Cuisine to heat up.

Doh.

I know if I wouldn't buy them I wouldn't have this problem. But they make me so happy. :)

BTW... Did you know that whole milk is 3% milk? Doesn't "whole" make it sound like it should be 100% of something? Thus making 2% sound really low fat.

But whole milk is 3% milkfat. Sure makes sense now why I never minded drinking 2% when I was growing up.

You probably already knew that because some of you are smarty pants RNs and PAs etc. And all of you are educated. But I had no idea.

A serious post to start the day

So this is one of my rare, more serious posts.

Do you remember that mom on Oprah from 10 or 15 years ago that was diagnosed with cancer? She left video diaries for her daughter. Tips on how to find clothes that fit or how to put on makeup. Things about dating or what she wanted to say to her daughter on her wedding day. I loved that story.

For those of you from Corsicana, I know you all remember Judy Settle. For those of you NOT from Corsicana, Judy Settle was one of my mom's good friends who died from cancer in her 40s. I lived with her family for a semester a few years after she passed away. She had a daughter a year younger than me. Watching her daughter, Emy, deal with the loss of her mom has stuck with me.

My mom has another best friend who passed away as well when I was about 14 years old. I loved Ms Brenda. I still have recipes that she gave me and a note that she wrote me when I was at camp. :) She had 3 boys. The oldest isn't that much younger than me. That loss hit VERY close to home and has stayed with me too.

In fact, all of those stories have made a HUGE impact. And I never really knew to what extent until I became a mom. Which brings me to this--

I journal. And I blog.

Blogging is therapy for me. I love it. It gets all the jumbled up stuff in my head OUT. I mean, honestly, all the random stuff I write on here... I'd still think it, even if I didn't type it. So typing it-- getting it out-- clears up so much space in my brain. And I need all the space I can get.

And this blog is 100% my personality. Minus a few off-color jokes or comments that I censor.

I've written about hard times in my marriage, bad parenting moments, needing a stiff drink, etc... If I think it, it's on here. It's my blog.

If I blog what's in my head, then I journal what's in my heart.

Each of the kids has one. It's the stuff I don't write on here. It's the personal things I want to tell each kid. The things that they did that month. The funny stories I want to remember. How much I love them. How proud I am of them. And it's where I confess when I mess up. I tell them that I'm doing the best I can, but I've never done this before and have a lot to learn. I started them from month 1 of each of their lives. And I add to them each month.

There's something about handwritten notes or journals. I want the things I have to say to them in my handwriting.

Although I do love that one day they'll be able to read my blog. Are there things on here I might regret writing if my kids are reading it? Maybe. I don't really know at this point. But I like that they can get who I am from this little thing on the internet. They will definitely see the person that my friends see. My humor. My random thoughts. Maybe one (or all) of them will think, "So that's where I get [fill in the character trait] from..."

When I bust out the video camera to record the kids, I always say "I love you" to them before I turn it off. And I wait for them to say "I love you too". I want that recorded. To play back a million times. Whenever I want to hear it. Or whenever they want to hear it.

I also try to get on the other side of the camera, although I loathe being filmed. Document, document, document. This is what we look like. This is how we sound. These are our mannerisms.

I don't mean to be depressing. Quite the opposite really. I see these things as a gift to my kids. A piece of me. A moment in time. Things that they'll never remember but can look back on and read and, hopefully, feel like they experienced anew.

I'm watching Jason with his dad and I'm learning that after the diagnosis is not the time to have the deep conversations or tell the funny stories. Jim is tired. He's concentrating on getting through the day. It's not like the movies. He doesn't have some desire to bungee jump or sky dive with his limited time. He's not calling us in by his chair so he can impart some words of wisdom. He's exhausted and weak. And losing ground mentally every day.

The time to have the deep conversations and say "I love you" and sky dive, if that's what you want to do, is now. It's all along the way.

I want to constantly be checking things off a "bucket list", so to speak. And one thing that I absolutely will not tolerate is something being left unsaid. (I'm sure you can believe that with how wordy I am.)

Journaling is quick and easy for me. That's why I do it. I've tried to scrapboook; I hate it. And it leaves me feeling guilty that I have so much undone. I've tried to take 1,000 pictures. My pictures are crappy. You've seen them on here. I'm not good at it. Those are not things that are authentically me.

Lord-willing I'll live to be 100. And in that case, these journals and this blog will be a gift to myself as well. A way to remember all the funny things that happened. And the way I saw the world when my mind was still sharp (-ish). ;)

I think--whatever it looks like in your family-- whether you scrapbook or journal or take pictures or blog or just enjoy spending time with your kids, it's about soaking up the little moments. Making memories. And somehow trying to find a way to hold on to them and pass them down.

Aaggh! It's drying and expanding

Hair is bigger. Not really curlier as it dries.

That's my last hair post. I will stop the play by play.

And yes, that's Caroline in the tub behind me. She wanted to bathe this morning. We're not a household with schedules and structure ;) so I said ok.

It's a gully washer out there!

And anytime it rains here I think 2 things: 1) I wish I had bought those cute rain boots I saw!, and 2) There's no point to busting out the flat iron today. I'll just go natural.

I rarely go curly when I have to be somewhere because I don't like my curly hair. Beaches and crazy humid days are the only places and times I willingly don't dry and straighten my hair. But I like the idea of being natural and pretending that I'm not high maintenance. So I need to figure out how to make it look good.

Because this is what it looks like today...

My thought bubble: "I tried. This is what it looks like. THIS is why I don't do this very often."

When I look at other girls' hair, it looks so cute on the days they don't straighten it. I'm thinking of you, Jennie. Yours is super cute curly. And I was thinking to myself-- We should skype one morning and you could show me how you get your curly hair to look good. Because you have time for that, right?

Then I took a picture of me smiling. Maybe it'll look better if I pretend to be happy about it.

But no.

Oh well. I may have just ruined whatever curl I had by straightening every day for the last 10 years. :)

This may have been better as an email to Jennie... much like when I posted here saying that I needed help from Holly with the Baby Bjorn... But I already wrote it as a post so I'm publishing it.

Problem solved

"Figure it out" and "Problem solve" are phrases that are right up there with saying "We'll see" and "Mm hmm" while the kids are talking. They all mean the same thing when I say them... which is essentially, "I'm not really listening right now." "I don't want to deal with it." "We'll talk about it later."

My kids have taken "Problem solve" (and its many variations including, but not limited to, "Solve the problem." "You can handle it." "Do you really need me right now for this??") to heart. And yesterday they solved a problem while I was folding laundry. I never even knew there was an issue.

Here's what apparently happened---

Issue: Caroline had reached a full box of Kleenex on the counter and pulled out every single tissue. Why is it always the full boxes when kids do that?!

Perceived problem: Mom's gonna be mad about the mess, and it's wasteful. Gotta love my little environmentalists/economists.

Solution: Eat all of the Frosted Toast Crunch and use that empty box to hold the Kleenexes. No more mess. We can still use the tissues.

What??

No screen time

My head has been feeling a little funny. Kinda heavy. My neck feels strained. I'm not quite dizzy but slightly off balance because it's hard for me to focus my eyes. I have to squint. And driving at night has become more challenging.

My first thought? It's all these goofy medications they have me on for my thyroid. It's disrupting everything.

Jason's first thought? I'm on my phone too much.

I have to admit I have become the person I used to despise. The person who doesn't even realize that she's on facebook while you're talking to her. Playing Words with Friends instead of making eye contact. Checking email at stop lights. (I know that one's not only rude but dangerous. Just being honest.)

It's all the time. I've been blogging on the phone. Texting. Emailing. Playing games. I even started doing these little workout apps so I'm exercising looking at my phone.

There's just so much entertainment right there at my fingertips. It's addicting.

I'm gonna try to give my eyes a break today. Limit my screen time. I had LASIK done 11 years ago and I want it to last as long as possible. My eyes are screaming for a breather.

Pay no attention to the fact that I am blogging right now on a computer during a commercial break from the "Today Show". Those screens are fine. :)

Happy birthday...

To my little brother. 28 today. He told me he's hoping that he starts to gray soon so that he'll have more credibility as a doctor. LOL. I'd be willing to give him some of the WHITE hairs that I've been pulling out of my head.

Random fact: Jason was born in 1974. Brian in 1984. That helps me remember how old they are. And I need to remember how old Jason is because he's gotten to the point that HE asks ME how old he'll be in April.

That doesn't bode well for his memory as he continues to age.

Another random fact: Abby, B's wife, is also a 23rd. May 23rd. And she's a year younger. But still. It helps me remember her big day....in theory. Last year I was a month late mailing her gift.

I digress.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BRIAN :)

Brain dump

I have 3 posts in my head. All of which require pictures. Pictures I haven't taken yet. My goal is to get them done this week. Not that they're profound posts, but I want to get them out of my head.

............

My thyroid is crazy out of whack. Now, in addition to Synthroid, I'm on a T3 compound. That means nothing to me. I just know I'm now on 2 pills instead of 1. Boo. And it's literally messing with my hormones. Yuck.

............

I'm doing a New Christian's class with Sarah. A class that explains salvation, the Lord's Supper, baptism. Anyway, everyone had to introduce themselves at the beginning of the class. Sarah turned so red when she had to say, "My name is Sarah. I'm 6 years old. In first grade. I like to play soccer. "

That's all she had to say. And she was bright red. Ugh. I feel her pain. I get nervous and blush over dumb things like that too. I hate that for her. It's a terrible feeling.

Also, she doesn't even play soccer. I think she panicked when they asked, "what do you do for fun?" and just blurted something out.

..............

Today is the first time in four years of having a 3 car garage that we could pull both cars in. Jason finally moved his crap around. Thanks to the new Tundra and spring-like temps in January that lit a fire under his butt and motivated him to do some cleaning.

................

Here's the pic of the Fishero kids. Again, you'll recall Hilary is not smiling this year. Trying to prevent wrinkles.

Have a great Monday tomorrow!

Had to share... In honor of all this internet piracy talk

If this is offensive, I'm sorry. It's a joke. And you know you want to laugh... ;)

I want to PROTEST

Not about internet piracy bills...

but about Greg returning as the yellow Wiggle.

Have yall seen this???!!!

Poor Sam. Such a staged picture.

They've never treated Sam well. Ever. He was a dancer, played the trumpet in the Wiggly orchestra, then got to be the Yellow Wiggle when Greg was too sick to do it. For 5 years now he's been the man in yellow and he has CARRIED the Wiggles. He's the only one that can sing!!

Then Greg starts feeling better and wants to come back, and Sam is fired over the holidays on his daughter's second birthday.

Ugh. Despicable!

Anthony's attitude on the Today Show was like, "His contract has been terminated. Whatever he does now is his thing." [paraphrased]

Jerk.

Sam never got any of the Wiggle wealth. The other 3 kept most of it. I understand they started the group, but there would have been NO group without Sam.

Everyone's rallying behind him though on facebook. The original Wiggles are gonna have to do some serious damage control to appease angry parents. And Anthony's already posted something on their fb page. (Yes, I went to the Wiggles facebook page. I'm a loser. I know, I know.)

I'm not seriously angry. My passion here is meant to be humerous, :) but it doesn't seem fair. And it does seem like the success has gone to their heads. And the purple Wiggle (who was having a pacemaker put in when we took Caroline to see the Wiggles Live in July) is 58. Guess what, guys... At some point you're gonna have to turn the reins over to younger people or end the group all together. It shows incredible wisdom to come off as totally insensitive creeps as your career is winding down. Good thinking.

A little of this and that

Eating mini chocolate chips so Mom can blog. Yep, that's about right...

So we'll start with a little of this...

My brother and his wife are in town right now! How cute are they? (I wish you could tell. Mobile uploads don't make good pics.)

It was so good seeing them yesterday. I hadn't seen my brother in a YEAR! A YEAR, people! He's super busy with his residency in Virginia and unable to fly home often. And I'm not really free to go see them either. And even if I did go, I know my time to see Brian would be pretty limited. I think there are days that even Abby doesn't see him awake. He's been working insane hours.

I love them so much!! I miss them. And it's always fun for me to have the 3 Fishero kids in one house.

I will post a pic of the 3 of us later. Not that you care. But I'm really making this note to jog my own memory. Jason took a picture with his phone. Need him to email it to me.

Are you like that with your brothers and sisters? I swear, you don't appreciate being together when you're growing up, but when you live different places as adults, it's so special to have that nuclear family together again.

..............

A little of that...

I filled out registration papers for Caroline to start preschool in the Fall!!! (Can you hear the excitement in that sentence??!!!)

It was great. Sarah watched me fill them out and said, "Wow, I bet you're happy. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, you can finally relax!" Hmm. Have I been voicing my desire to have Tuesdays and Thursdays to myself? Little ears. Always listening.

As I was filling them out, they want the standard info. Parents' names. Address. Number where you can be reached while your child is at school. Work phone number for each parent. Home phone number. Cell phone number for each parent. Then it says...

"In case of emergency, contact_____________________________ " and wants a name and phone number.

The truth is I've always assumed that they didn't want me to write Jason's or my name down. They had just gotten every point of contact for us in the information above. This must be a place for someone else.

So I have ALWAYS written down my mom. When I registered Sarah for preschool. When I registered Jack for preschool. Maybe even when I registered Sarah for Kindergarten. I can't remember.

But today I thought, "Maybe I should write myself down. I can be the answer to more than one question. If there's an emergency, they should contact me."

I'm still not sure I did it right. Maybe they DO want someone other than the parents as an emergency contact.

Why are simple things so complicated for me?

Shut up!

My friend, Amber, takes Jack to school for me on the days he has preschool. And apparently she gets an earful from him every morning.

Jack is random. And Jack likes to talk. (Don't know where he gets that from.) So he always has a good story for Ms. Amber on the way to school.

She just called me and told me that as she was pulling into the parking lot today, he said, "You know what my mom does, Ms. Amber. She goes to the bathroom and doesn't wash her hands. It's a really bad habit."

What??!!

She called to tell me because she was cracking up.

She said that her response was, "And I'm really sure your mother would appreciate you telling me that."

And I was like, "But you know it's not true, right?!!!! I don't appreciate him telling you that BECAUSE HE'S LYING." I WASH MY HANDS!!! How embarrassing!

Ok, when it's cold outside, (which makes it cold inside), I'll opt for hand sanitizer instead of cold running water that leaves my hands feeling like ice for the next half hour. So maybe he doesn't hear the water every time, but that's only when I use hand sanitizer instead.

I am horrified at this moment. That kid. If it pops in his head, it's coming out of his mouth. From now on, I'm gonna announce every time I clean my hands... which is ALL THE TIME.

So embarrassed.

Who's the President?

So it is MLK day. A day that we're supposed to reflect on what MLK stood for... after we wake up from sleeping in and curse the bill lying on the counter that we meant to mail on Friday and will now be late because there is no postal pick up today. Grr.

Anyway, thinking about MLK led me on a very long winding path in my head that ended with thinking about our president.
I decided to ask the kids if they know who our President is.

Jack: George Washington!

Me: He was the first.

Jack: Abraham Lincoln!

Me: Nope. The 16th.

(I looked at Sarah. I haven't taught her, but surely she's learned in school.)

Sarah: Michael Obama!

Me: Close. Barack Obama. Good job.

Jack, to Sarah: It didn't say "Michael". It said "Michelle".

Me: What said "Michelle"?

Sarah: The commercial for iCarly. Michelle Obama is gonna be on the next episode.

Me: That's how you know who the Obamas are?

Sarah: Yep.

That should probably make me concerned that she's either not learning or at least, not retaining information at school. But instead it is another instance that makes me feel good about all the TV she watches.

No lesson learned

I didn't take Sarah her math homework, hoping to teach her a lesson. She used a homework pass that her teacher had given her as a Christmas present.

Oh well. Smart use of a "get out of jail free" card.

Tough love

I told Sarah to put her homework in her blue folder. She didn't listen. She's been bad about that lately.

I reminded her again. She said she'd do it later.

But look what I just found...

There's still time for me to run it up to school, but I've done that for her before. I think today she's gonna have to sit out at recess...suffer the consequence. She'll survive.

And maybe she'll start listening when I tell her to put her homework in her backpack.

But the truth is...if this were for a grade, I'd totally bail her out so she wouldn't get an F. It's easy to be tough when they're working for stickers and smiley faces.

How to tell if your cat is plotting to kill you

You may have seen this before; it's a couple of years old. I gotta give credit to The Oatmeal for coming up with this one. Funny site. :)

This is EXACTLY why I think cats are creepy. ;) Sorry, cat lovers.

Mobbed

I'm a little behind on this, I know. There's a show on FOX called "Mobbed". I saw one episode last night that I guess originally aired last week. And I might be hooked. It's a reality show where one person has a big announcement or question to ask another person, and they've decided that the best way to make that announcement or ask that question is with a flash mob.

First, I should say that flash mobs make me so happy. Giddy even. I get chills watching that many people come together and do a dance that takes a lot of effort to coordinate. It's a group filled with joy. Nobody dances when they're sad. I think it's fun.

And if that makes me a loser, I don't wanna be a winner. :)

So the show I saw last night...

Ok, the premise is that this guy met this girl basically online (not exactly, but the story is kinda long) and they have been emailing for 5 years. But they've never really met face to face.

In those 5 years, he has decided that he's fallen in love with her. He lives on the east coast. She lives in California.

Well, he packs up all of his belongings and heads to the west coast to finally meet this girl he loves, face to face. And to ask her if they can start dating. If she says "yes", he will stay in Cali. If he hears "no", it's back to the east coast.

Are you following me?

So...a little stalkery...a little creepy...a little desperate...

But when he (and Howie Mandel and the professional dancers and choreographers that FOX hired) plans this elaborate flash mob for her, all I could think was, "Aw. I love him!"

Here's part of the dance... I wish I could have found the whole thing without having to embed the entire episode into this post.

At this point, she has no idea what's going on. She has no clue why they're doing this. She hasn't seen the guy that's surprising her. She's still trying to figure out what is happening.

Right after this, he comes out with his guitar and starts singing, "I want you to want me. I need you to need me..." The song that's been playing this whole time. But he's singing it acoustically and walking towards her. And they meet for the first time. So over the top and ridiculous. Love it! :)

So moving ahead to the end....

After the ambush, she agrees to see where the relationship goes and tells him to stay in CA. I'm sure she didn't feel any pressure to say yes after being mobbed, filmed, and shown the moving van with all of his belongings inside.

Honestly, I'm not sure that she's really that into him. I doubt she'll be with him very long, but I am quite certain that no one will put as much effort into asking her out as this guy did.

I want to be mobbed!!

Or at least be part of one... So fun!!

Because it made me smile...

SMH

Lots of people are using this acronym recently on facebook. Maybe they've always used it, and I'm just now noticing it.

It's driven me crazy. I've tried to figure out what it means based on context clues. But I never could. It's always used before or after something ridiculous or hard to believe is said.

"SMH @ this championship game"

Someone says something funny or kinda stupid; someone else will respond: "SMH"

I finally gave in, googled it, and discovered that it means "Shaking My Head". In disbelief, I assume.

So if you, like me, are behind on your internet slang, I've done what I could to catch you up today.

And if you've known what it meant all along, then you're probably SYH at me. :)

Under the weather

Caroline and I aren't doing so well this week.

Truthfully, I kinda thought Caroline wasn't doing well at the end of last week but decided she could power through it. Once it hit me, I powered through for a few days and a few restless nights and then thought, "What am I doing? I need to nip this thing. I'm too important around here to not be functioning." (I like to tell myself things like that. Boosts my self-esteem.) ;)

The visit to the doctor at 3:15 with all the kids was fun. Said sarcastically. Exam rooms aren't built for a family of 4. They took my blood pressure and they were like, "Hmm. A little high but it's ok." And I said, "If I was alone right now, my BP would be fine. I promise."

It's just bronchitis. But I have that crackly cough. The kind that is impossible to do quietly. Kinda like a loud barking seal. The kind that sounds like you're hacking something up. And then everyone stares at you in disgust.

It's gross. And my ears are filled with fluid. So I'm a little dizzy. Just enough to be irriating.

Last night I took my Augmentin, steroids of some kind for my ears, a sudafed, and Nyquil. (Overdoing it?) But I hate waking up coughing. It bugs me and then I feel like I need to cough into my pillow to not wake up Jason. Anyway, it didn't work. I was still up every hour.

Then I looked at Caroline and thought she probably feels as bad as I do. Granted-- I do wonder-- how well does one need to feel to lie around, watch TV, take everything out of the toy box, eat 8 or 9 small meals a day, ride in the car, and poop in one's pants? But still. Maybe if she felt a little better, she'd be more cooperative.

Wishful thinking.

If you need me, I'll be high on some kind of cold medication I'm sure. And taking care of the kids. And/or operating heavy machinery.

That's ok, right?

A cold lazy morning

Watching the Wiggles with her baby

Down, but not out

One of the fun things about having a two story house... and dare I say, one of the ONLY fun things about having a two story house in my opinion... is that it's fun to drop things over the rail at the top of the stairs.

Even for me. :)

I'll get the kids' clothes for Sunday morning and tell them to come catch them. And they come running in to the entryway and, for some reason, like to let the clothes hit them in the face. And if I'm frustrated with a child, I like to drop his/her clothes with force.

Or I'll strip beds and drop the dirty sheets over.

Word to the wise... Never drop a wet diaper over the rail. They explode. Imagine that. A diaper can't survive a 2 story fall. Thank you, Jason, for teaching me that a couple of years ago.

I asked Sarah to run upstairs and get her pajamas-- (Oh happy day when your kids are old enough to go upstairs, get their own PJs, and dress themselves. Can I get an "Amen"?)-- And she thought she'd throw them downstairs as well.

I guess I didn't know that I needed to teach HOW to throw clothes downstairs. But obviously I should have. Throw them DOWN, not OUT. Or this will happen.

I was in the kitchen when this happened. And Sarah came strolling in. If she knew how to whistle, she would have had her hands behind her back, eyes looking up at the ceiling, and whistling non-chalantly.

And she says, very casually, "Um, mom, can I have that little grabber thing you have to reach things?"

She's referring to this...

I asked her what she was trying to reach.

"Ooohhh. Nothing. [mumbling] I just got my pajama pants stuck on the chandelier."

Now she's learned. Drop them. Don't throw them.

(or I guess you could hold on to them and carry them downstairs. But where's the fun in that?)

What the ???

Of all the random junk I find in my purse... and you know I've found a lot of junk...

(including during this last clean out.. cookie crumbs from a cookie party we had at church right before Jack's Christmas program. I remember taking a cookie, wrapping it in a napkin, and placing it in my purse as I hurried to the sanctuary. Never thought about that cookie again. And it apparently worked its way down into a black hole-like corner of my purse, still hidden by the napkin. But today I discovered the crushed remains as crumbs under my nails while I was digging for something else and remembered, "Oh yeah! That cookie!")

But this is much more puzzling. Because I have no idea about this one...

A single latex glove.

Did I get it while we were at the ER? Nope.

Maybe when I took Jack to the GI. It probably came from there. Nuh-uh.

NO IDEA. And how weird. I'm not grossed out because it's not used. But was I planning on using it? And if so, for what??!!

I find myself to be a very disturbing individual sometimes.

Very disturbing.

A beautiful day

On our way to 70 degrees. Caroline is in the sandbox. Jack is in the jeep. I'm working on my tan.

Days like this totally make up for the crappy days of staying  at home. ;)

Sarah's spelling words

close
quote
compose
hopeful
huge
chosen
muted
rewrote
rosebush
chute

Do these seem a little harder than what you remember memorizing when you were 6?

Every week it gets tougher. I know it should. But I have to get more organized about using our afternoon time wisely.

Thankfully when I quizzed her over breakfast this morning, she knew them all. No thanks to me. That's the first time I had looked at them all week. :-/

I've only got a first grader.  Soon there will be a lot more homework, and eventually 3 kids will have it. I need to get an afternoon homework routine down. Now.

Thinking like a blogger

(or a facebook-er)

Sometimes I laugh at myself and others...or shake my head in disbelief...over the things we take pictures of to have a more interesting facebook or blog post.

I've seen pics of my friends' kids with mouths open at the dentist. I've seen them getting blood drawn. I've seen pics of sick kids, crying kids.... It's not that I don't care about the little things going on in my friends' lives. My blog is entirely devoted to the little things in my life. It's that we take a picture of the needle going in the arm, instead of holding our kid's hand while he's having his blood drawn.

I'm so guilty. My brain is a blogger brain. I'm always thinking, "I should blog about this. Or take a pic for my blog."

The good part of that is that you can turn a bad day into a funny story, but the scary part is when I look back and realize when I've taken time to blog.

I blogged about whether or not I should take Jack to the ER. What?! In my defense, my mind moves really quickly (and franticly)...and if you've ever heard me talk, you can probably believe that. I talk really quickly. So that post took me about 45 seconds to write. And I felt better to put my nerves on paper, so to speak.

But the point is I stopped to blog before taking him to the hospital. How insane! What if it had been serious? Seconds count.

And then, before I loaded him up, I took a pic to show y'all that he didn't feel well. I didn't post it because I came to my senses and realized that that was a little twisted.

I didn't mean it like that. I want y'all to feel like you're here with me so I take pics. But I need to watch myself a bit more. There's a time and a place for blogging and facebook and pictures, and then there's a time when it's inappropriate.

I can't promise I won't blur that line again. I'm sure I will. But I will try to turn the blogging brain off a little more often.

I have this theory...

Every hoarder is a misguided recycler.

Not only are the kids playing "save the planet" computer games, but Sarah came home with a chart on ways to reduce, reuse, and recycle. While I've made jokes about them turning into hippies, the truth is I'm glad that they're learning to make choices that are good for the Earth.

When Jack asked me to time how long his showers are so he could know how much water he's using, I thought, "Are you kidding?" But I do like learning to take personal responsibility for making better choices. Don't be wasteful....with food, water, electricity. Be a good steward of your resources. Simple things like-- Draw on the back of your paper. Bring your own bags to the grocery store. If you're into gardening, have a compost pile. I can get behind those ideas.

Sarah, however, takes reusing to a whole new level. She wants to turn every jar into something. She wants to save every scrap of paper, every receipt, so she can scribble on the back. Then she'll become sentimentally attached to these bizarre things. Or she'll have a stockpile of crap that she wants to use, but she can't remember what she wants to do with it. But she sure as heck doesn't want to throw it away because it obviously meant something to her at some point.

And that's exactly what those people on that show "Hoarders" do.

They save all their junk because "I might need it one day. Someday I'll take the parts from this and put them on that and it'll be fixed. I could use this somehow."

I think sometimes kids need to be taught that some things ARE trash. Trash vs Treasure. Let go. Send it to the recycling center. You, personally, don't have to be the one to reuse it.

Otherwise they grow into adults that don't want to get rid of anything and have really messy garages. *ahem, Jason*

Anyway, that's my theory. There's a thin line between being a well-intentioned reuser and a hoarder.

Not qualified

I was passed up for a job at a preschool in Frisco. Technically I never interviewed for it, but my friend threw my name out there.

It was to be the Spanish teacher for 4 and 5 year olds. I don't speak Spanish. The lady they hired does. Apparently that's what they were looking for. My dynamic personality and experience with children be damned. They wanted someone qualified to teach Spanish.

And that got me thinking: Qualified people are taking jobs from those of us who aren't qualified. That, my friends, is discrimination. And someone needs to stand up and say something.

I think Affirmative Action should get involved. There should be a rule that for every 100 people hired, at least 2 should be completely unqualified. Employers could brag,"52% of our employees are women. 25% are considered minorities. And 2% have absolutely no business being here. We do not discriminate based on race, gender, or ability."

I have a dream....

Ya know that game where...

You hide a ball or something under a cup. And you mix the cups all around. Then the other person has to guess where the ball is.

Well my little gifted children are playing "Find the Popcorn Kernel".

Using clear cups.

Headed to Goodwill

I showed no mercy to the downstairs toy closet.

Choose your battles

To avoid a meltdown over dressing up vs getting ready for bed last night... Caroline slept in her Santa jammies with Sarah's old dance recital costume over them. Tutu and all.

Be sure to recycle

My kids have been on a "going green" kick lately. They spend lots of time playing "Eco-world" on pbskids.org. The computer can be a GREAT babysitter.

One of the things they're always asking about is if things can be recycled. At this age, they are taught that recycling means to take something old and make something new.

"Hey kids. Ask your parents for an old milk carton and you can make a bird feeder out of it. That's recycling. That's saving the planet."

"Look around your house and see what you can make into something new. You'll be recycling too!"

That kind of thing.

Last week when Jack was on his liquid diet, popsicles were on the approved list of things he could eat. So all three kids ate a ton of them.

Then I overheard Jack and Sarah talking about whether or not a popsicle stick could be recycled. They finally decided that, yes, it can be because you could make an angel out of one. All you'd need is some tissue paper for the wings, a crayon or marker for the face, pipe cleaner for the halo, etc.

So Sarah wrote this note, taped the popsicle stick to it, and put it in the recycling bin.

Since this is from my phone you probably can't read it. It starts *misspellings intentional, just quoting*

"Dear people, Please make a angel out of crayon/marker, tissue paper/close pin and bring it back to Sarah McGlamery..." And then she gives our address and phone number along with detailed instructions that spill onto the back of the page of how to make an angel out of the popsicle stick.

She thinks that the recycling people make bird feeders out of our milk jugs and angels out of our popsicle sticks. The idea that things are crushed or melted down to make something ENTIRELY new is foreign to her.

And I guess she thinks they deliver these custom orders.

I hope the recycling people get this note. There may be a little girl who becomes incredibly disillusioned about the power of recycling.