We're all f**ked up!

Life is messy. I think one of our biggest problems in life is that we continuously try to make it perfect. If only we had a better job, or more money, or a skinnier waist, or better friends, or more time, or more stuff. And the thing is, it was never meant to be perfect or easy. And just when you think you've got it down, something comes along to throw a wrench in your plans and you're left with an "is this all there is" feeling? Or worse, "can I possibly take any more?"

Well, I'm here to tell you that, indeed, you can. For one, our reactions to the things around us are entirely under our control. Oh sure, we "go off" now and then, say things we don't mean, get all riled up and spew venom at the people we should love the most. Or we make really stupid choices with difficult consequences. Sometimes we even find ourselves in a really dark place, wondering if we'll ever be able to struggle out of it, or, worse, if we even want to.

It's in those times, when we're really at our weakest points, that we need to be strong enough. Strong enough to open up and ask for help. Or strong enough to ask for forgiveness. Or admit our weaknesses. Or do something that challenges us or makes us uncomfortable. But in doing this, we become so much stronger than we ever really knew we could be.

My yoga teacher often said "you're stronger than you think you are" and, while that helped me immensely in my yoga practice (namely, "yes, I can do this and no, I won't die if I hold this pose one second longer"), it also became a great motto for life. We ARE stronger than we think we are.

I hear many of my kids' friends lamenting their latest "worst day ever." That phrase always hits me hard. Your WORST day ever? I mean, life is not a competition, but putting things in perspective never hurt anyone. At the same time, your "worst" day is relative to where you are in life. If you are a teenager, your worst day might be measured in how horrible something makes you feel - whether it be relationship or friend problems, parents fighting, finding out you're moving, failing a class. When you're in college, it might be roommate issues, worry about grades, navigating the slippery slope of independence. As an adult, your "worst day ever" might be huge and horrible and irreconcilable - divorce, death, crime, poverty.

But life goes on. Even in the face of the most horrible circumstances, we somehow move on and keep living. In the past year, in my own life or that of a friend, I've seen divorce, death of a child, cancer and other serious illness, alcoholism, drug addiction, legal troubles, financial troubles, teen pregnancy, moving away, starting over. But I've also seen birth, graduations, proms, new jobs, new love, success, unexpected achievement, and joy in the simple things. Balance.

We're all a little f**ked up in our own ways. The sooner we accept that and move on with being the best we can be, the better for everyone. And guess what? No one expects you to be perfect - in your quest to constantly be better, someone thinks you are just fine the way you are. We all need to give ourselves a break. Adopt a philosophy of doing the best you can and be ok with it.

Here are some things I try to do (and I've failed at these numerous times!).....the point is to always be aware of what is important to you:
- Be a good friend. Be there to listen and support. Don't be a doormat. Friendship goes both ways.
- Be supportive when you can. Even if you don't always agree with the decisions being made.
- Be nice. Don't waste your time and energy being snarky or mean. Just be nice. One nice thing said to someone can erase a dozen negative things they may have heard that day.
- Do things for yourself. Don't wait for someone to come along and make you happy. If you want to do something fun, just do it. Even if you can't find someone to go with you.
- Get up and get dressed every morning. Even if you have no place to go or nothing urgent to do. Just getting "ready" for the day puts you in a more productive mood. You'll be surprised what you can accomplish!
- Try to exercise every day. Even if it's just for a few minutes. And sometimes, when you're really tired, instead of laying on the couch, try taking a short walk instead. It's amazing how much this can energize you!
- But be lazy sometimes. It's ok to just wear your pajamas all day and watch movies on the couch. Just not every day. If you do it every day, the relaxing part wears off and you just start to feel down all the time.
- Do stuff. Instead of over-analyzing things, just DO IT. We spend so much time worrying about things that we often talk ourselves out of doing it in the first place.
- Don't spend so much time worrying about what you're going to be when you grow up. Because the thing is, you WILL grow up, even if you never decide. Life takes twists and turns. Be flexible.
- Find things that you love to do, that bring you joy, and spend as much time as possible doing them.
- Find someone you love, better yet, find many someones, and spend as much time with them as possible. If someone makes you feel happy, comfortable in your own skin, and it's just "easy" to be with them, they're the "right" person. And if your "right" person turns into the "wrong" one, do not despair that you can never love another. You can.
- Always be a learner. If you're worried about something, educate yourself! Curious? Explore!
- Never be afraid to admit you're not a stone pillar. We all need someone to lean on, we all need help sometimes. Never, EVER, let your worry about "what others might think" hold you back from doing what's right for you or those you love.
- Always celebrate. There are so many things in life to be happy about, that there's always a reason for celebration. Celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, special events and accomplishments. Have a party!

We are all flawed. That's what makes us so perfect!

Things we hold dear........

I have a Raggedy Ann doll that is old as dirt. I think I was four or five when I got her. I don't remember the occasion, but my sister got a MUCH bigger Raggedy Ann at the same time which I have never understood. But her giant Raggedy Ann suffered an unspeakable tragedy when my younger brother drew a cross in green magic marker on her head because it was Ash Wednesday and he wanted to bless the doll. That green magic marker remains on the doll's head to this day. MY Raggedy Ann doll was unscathed in the magic marker Ash Wednesday debacle, but she has suffered some of her own trials and tribulations over the years (haven't we all?). For instance, one time her leg was falling off. I have NO idea how that might have happened, unless I was having a tug-of-war with her, trying to save her from some cruel older sibling who might have been trying to steal her from me. Someone sewed the leg back on tightly and all was well. Until I was eight or nine and I had my doll with me at my grandparent's cottage in the woods of southeastern Ohio. My evil cousins decided to have their own assault on my doll and ended up ripping her arm nearly off. I was devastated, and I still remember finding needle and thread and attempting to "sew" her arm back on with giant stitches, because I knew nothing about sewing. Still, bad sewing job and all, she survived and spent most of the rest of my childhood in a small wooden rocking chair in my room. Now, she resides in a trunk in my bedroom and never sees the light of day. Sad, sad Raggedy Ann. But, like an old woman, her "skin" is thinning, and she doesn't have as much fluff in her body so she can't sit upright very well. Her hair is sparse and her head hangs forward at an odd angle. WAIT! I must get her to look at her once again. Whew, that took a while. She was buried under so much junk. But it did give me a chance to take these photos:

 My sweet Raggedy Ann doll.....

 Leg damage! Obviously this sewing job was done by an adult........

 Her heart says "I love you"! 

 Arm damage. Sewing job done by me at age 8. 

 Giant stitches.....no clue what I was doing! :)

 Her stringy hair!

 Stuffing coming out all over..........

But I love her! 

Over the years, my own kids have added some of their own special relics. Hayley has a bear she calls "Angelina" given to her by her dad when she broke her arm. It's a white bear with angel wings and it went to college with her. Hannah has "Lamby", a floppy stuffed lamb we brought her from Victoria, B.C., that she carried around everywhere. Lamby has lost both of his eyes (and I've sewed them back in many times!), and is a little skinny in the areas where she kept her toddler grip on him. Lamby still sleeps with her. Arlie has "teddy", a small stuffed bear that looks more like a potato than a bear. She lost him on the Dumbo ride at Disneyland and by some miracle, someone saved him and put him aside for her and she got him back! His "fur" is more like burlap and he's been squeezed a few too many times. Harrison has "Candy Cane Man", a cheap stuffed toy his dad "won" for him in one of those claw games at a restaurant. Candy Cane Man is a toy soldier holding a candy cane like a staff. He went with us on every road trip and still resides in Harrison's room.

What do you hold dear? Do you have a favorite stuffed animal or doll that you've kept from your childhood? 

Why are concerts so expensive?

My kids have been to exactly one concert. I splurged for Maroon 5 tickets when my son, who was five, was obsessed with them. And when I say "splurged" I mean I paid $35 each for them.

So, when Hannah Montana came to town, and tickets were going for over $400 if you could even get them, I had to say (HELL) no to my precious girls. Because, for one thing, I have three girls.

And now these concerts come along and my kids beg and plead to go, but at an average of $100 per ticket, it's just not feasible. Not to mention, the tickets sell out in nanoseconds.

I don't get it. I cannot understand what kind of money-driven frenzy garners both the price and the demand. The most expensive concert ticket I've purchased was $85 each for Green Day, two years ago, for my husband's birthday. Before that, MANY years before, I shelled out $80 a ticket to see the Eagles, but I figured after seeing them live and in concert, I could die happy.

My first concert was Shaun Cassidy. I was ten. I vividly remember my mom sitting a few rows back from my sister and I (and our friends), and seeing Shaun himself come bursting through a ring of white paper as the concert started. After that stupendous performance, how could I not be hooked? So, at age 13 I saw Styx. In between I went to one or two Willie Nelson concerts with my parents in various fairground locations, hazy with weed smoke.

My concert-going days were limited until after high school. I was in college when I heard Madonna was coming to Seattle. I was overjoyed. No one else wanted to go. I went anyway (I can't even remember who went with me) and I loved it. My first big date with my ex-husband was to the Doobie Brothers. I'll admit I thought "what's with this nerd taking me to the Doobie Brothers?" but it turns out I knew almost every song. Take me by the hand, pretty mama........

And my concert-loving days had begun. I saw Eddie Murphy's "Raw" (I'm pretty sure every girl there left mad at her date), Boston, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Los Lobos, Steve Miller Band, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Reba McEntire, Bruce Springsteen, Train and more.

I wish concerts weren't so pricey. I'd love for my kids to experience music live from their favorite artists. I'd love to take them to concerts and watch them experience it. But who has a couple hundred lying around for such ventures?

I guess I really need an entertainment fund. One that covers concerts, plays, and other live performances. Guess I'll just take out a second mortgage.........

Friends....

I got to thinking the other day about friends. We all have them. Some more than others. And I wondered about quantity versus quality of friends.

I read my Facebook posts and see some of my female friends posting about big-bash birthday parties, and trips to Cabo with girlfriends and I sometimes wish to be a part of one of those "big group" friend circles, where gathering everyone up takes a banquet room. Where celebrations are over-the-top and families go on vacation together.

And while I have many, many acquaintances, my "friend" group is much smaller. So, what makes a true friend? In my opinion, it's a person who reaches out to you as much as you reach out to her. Someone who is truly interested and concerned about your life, love, family and career, who will be there for you when the chips are down, who makes an effort to include you in special events.

Granted, in our "always busy" day and age, few of us have time to cultivate real friendships. Gone are the days where women spent the majority of their time in the company of other women raising children and taking care of families. Now we have the family part, along with careers, multiple obligations, and the everyday pressures to be successful in multiple areas.

Still. That does not exclude the seemingly simple things like meeting for coffee or celebrating a birthday lunch. I am grateful for the friends I do have who don't forget those things. And I have friends who I don't see but a few times a year, who are still true friends in my book, because we connect in other ways - Facebook, email, text conversations. I love a friend that is a constant -someone who, even after long stretches of absence in your life, can fall back in and reconnect as if no time had passed at all.

I also love new friends. I had a pen pal for years whom I've never met, but who, if I ever got the chance, would be a great new friend, I'm certain. Sometimes, a Facebook comment leads to an invitation to coffee, and a new friend is made. We women have a quick way of connecting and my husband has often marveled at how someone I've never met can suddenly fall into a seamless conversation and comfortable presence after only a few minutes. I always tell him "a woman can meet someone in the ladies room and come out best friends." It's just the way we are - we connect.

Then, there are some friends, who with the prevalence of social networking, can become friends we connect with daily and never meet. And while those people may not fit our traditional definition of friendship, they serve a purpose and meaningful relationships can be forged. I'm still a die-hard fan of face time, but it's nice to know there's another woman up at 3 a.m. to "talk" to when you can't sleep.

I think most of us get so wrapped up in our lives that we forget to connect with our friends in more traditional ways. We send e-cards instead of meeting for lunch to celebrate birthdays, or we limit our "time" together to chatting on the sidelines of a soccer game, or a brief text now and then. I admire the girlfriend groups who have a yearly girl's only trip, or meet monthly for cocktails and conversation.

When my kids were little, and I was swamped with mommy stuff with seemingly "no time" for social outlets, I often joined a monthly group - Bunco, book club, mom's night out - to satisfy that girlfriend connect time. That worked for a long time, but as my kids got older, I found those things fading away as we all became busier in our kids' lives.

But if we're so wrapped up in our kids' lives, what happens to us? How do we rediscover and remember who  WE are? I have friends and relatives who are fully ensconced in club sports. It consumes all of their discretionary time to the exclusion of social interactions (with the exception of the other parents in the club sports), vacations, and pretty much anything else. Other friends are so wrapped up in their kids other activities, that they spend the majority of their time driving them to practices and rehearsals. And the people we spend that time with become our friends. But when the activity ceases, do the friendships? Some last, others fade away as we go through different stages in our lives.

I love it when I meet people who have been friends for years and years. To be in your sixties, and still connect regularly with your best friend you've known since age five - what a beautiful testimonial to true and lasting friendship. My guess is those two friends have drifted in and out of each other's lives for decades, weathering motherhood, marriage, divorce, death....all manner of joy and pain. And, in the end, they are still there for each other, a rock of stability that even other solid relationships such as marriage and parenthood can't crumble.

So, who are your "true" friends? Who are your new friends? What does friendship mean to you?

On a stick..........

Why is everything suddenly more appealing on a stick? Cake pops, Peeps on a stick (which I humbly admit I used on my Easter table), and now PIE POPS? WTF people. Pie does not belong on a stick. Even cake is pushing the envelope.

Pops refers to something that is akin to a lollipop. Like a.....lollipop. A lollipop is just a piece of candy on a stick. It makes it very easy to eat the candy, and when you're done, you just throw away the stick. The stick is simply a vehicle for the food to enter your mouth. But when you start putting everything on a stick.......I don't know...

There's a funny iCarly episode where a guy puts tacos on a stick. But there has to be a line drawn somewhere, no? I mean, are we going to start serving pasta on a stick? Sliders on a stick? Truth be told, you can put a stick in ANY food and call it a "pop".

The problem is, when you put cake on a stick, it falls off the stick. Like, after the first bite. Then, you put your hand under it to catch the falling pieces and suddenly you are just eating cake out of your hand without the benefit of a paper plate and plastic fork. Lame.

I can only imagine pie on a stick. Ohhh, what fun, catching sticky, gooey, blueberries in your hand as they fall off a stick. Even ice cream, which has been served on a stick for centuries, has always had a bad reputation for bailing off the stick before you're finished eating. Who hasn't caught a chunk of popsicle in their hand? Or experienced the disappointment of the last, perfect bite of an ice cream bar sliding prematurely to the ground.

I always refer to balloons as "disappointment on a string". Balloons either fly away, get popped, or lose all their air and just look all sad and limp. What a racket. Well, "pops" are disappointment on a stick. Even the most gooey food will fall off a stick, and who wants to pay a premium price for a treat (you know, because it's on a STICK and all) only to have it fall apart and end up slurping it out of your hand, or, worse, watching it fall to the ground. Anything on a stick should be a one-bite wonder. If it can't be consumed in one bite, don't put it on a stick! Except for things on a skewer, which are designed to lay horizontally.

Although.....if the appeal of serving something on a stick really gets people excited, why not try brussels sprouts on a stick? Or broccoli trees on a stick?

I'm "sticking" with lollipops. They're safe. They stay on the stick till the very end.

Easter candy tutorial........

How many of you received a chocolate bunny today? Jelly beans? Peeps? Easter, like all other holidays that have become overly commercialized, offers up a plethora of holiday-themed candies sure to please even the pickiest of palates (mine). Here's the lowdown:

Chocolate bunnies: Some of these are good. Others suck. A chocolate bunny should ALWAYS be solid because those hollow bunnies are false advertising. They look all big and appealing but when you bite into one, it instantly crumbles and you just paid for a chocolate shell and a lot of packaging. Don't ever, EVER buy anything but a solid chocolate bunny. I personally love Palmer chocolate and it's about the cheapest kind you can buy. And I also like Lindt chocolate which is a higher-priced brand. But not much in between. Maybe a Hershey bunny, but anything else is just crap.

Jelly Beans: These come in all manner of brands and varieties. I encountered some interesting ones this Easter - ones that were all red, or some that came in smoothie flavors. I think the Starburst ones taste best, but I only really like the orange ones anyway. Sure, there's Jelly Bellies, but those can really shock you from time to time. Like when you're expecting a coconut and get toasted marshmallow instead. I like to know what I'm getting. Oh, and black jellybeans? The grossest invention ever! I hate anything that tastes like licorice or IS licorice. Blech!

Peeps: These quintessential marshmallow chicks and rabbits are an Easter favorite. Of a bunch of weirdos. I hate Peeps! They are marshmallows, for one, and there's not much appealing about a marshmallow unless it's perfectly roasted over an open fire and sandwiched between graham crackers and chocolate. For another thing, someone got the brilliant idea to coat Peeps with a superfine, colored sugar. Which is EWW! Because that grainy, sandy texture is in your mouth and it's so unappealing. I do not understand the appeal of Peeps, except as a table decoration, which is how I used them this year. And right after dinner the kids burned them over the fire, which is their rightful resting place.

Everything else: Note to manufacturers - just because you make your candy in appealing pastel colors, the flavor is not altered. Therefore, all the candy I hate, even though it's appealing in those soft pastel shades of Easter, will not taste better. And yet, I still purchase it "for the kids". I'll admit to tasting a few of these this year and I realized how yummy Chewy Sprees are. And how much I hate a hard candy shell around chocolate. Unless it's M&M's or Reese's Pieces. Except when the candy companies decide to get cute and offer the candy in egg shapes, which totally throws off the chocolate to candy shell ratio.

The winner: Hands down, my favorite treat this year was Palmer caramel eggs. The chocolate to caramel ratio was just right, both tasted great and I ate a whole bag over the past few weeks by myself. Yikes. Still, Palmer never disappoints me and offers this delicious caramel/chocolate combo for several other holidays as well (hearts for Valentine's day, bells for Christmas). I also love their chocolate/peanut butter combo and their chocolate/fudge combo. I just love Palmer chocolates. The runner up was Lindt chocolates - the mini truffle eggs were delicious, and the truffles never fail to please me, especially with their beautiful, spring-y packaging and special seasonal varieties.

I'm in big trouble........

Why I don't garden.........

I just adore the signs of spring cropping up all over my soggy Pacific Northwest yard. Besides the puddles and sodden grass, there are some honest-to-goodness signs of spring out there. Pink and purple hyacinth. Yellow daffodils. Slightly paler yellow miniature daffodils. Crocuses, which popped up IN the grass this year. We all thought it was an odd coincidence until we learned that Jeff actually planned it that way (and I'm not gonna lie - it's kinda weird). I'm sure there are other plants and foliage growing which I know nothing about and cannot pronounce the names, because I am not a gardener.

I really believe there are two types of people - those who garden and those who buy their flowers wrapped in cellophane for 9.99 at Safeway. I fall into the latter category and I am unapologetic. I am good at many things but gardening is not one of them. For one thing, there's all that dirt. Who wants to get dirt under their fingernails? Not me. I don't even like getting my hands dirty eating pizza, therefore I use a fork. And my kids make fun of me for it.  But nothing's stuck under my nails. Then, there is the backbreaking work of making little ditches or divots in which to put seeds that often (annoyingly) don't even sprout up! And if they do actually sprout, you have to water and weed them. It's like having a bunch of demanding toddlers. No thanks, I had a few live versions of those and I'm glad I lived to tell about it.

I just cringe when I hear people talking in "garden-speak". You know, "well my peas aren't sprouting as they should yet - do you think it's the cold snap?" or "I was thinking of some annuals along that fence right there - what do you think of cosmos/camellia/chrysanthemum/crocus/chive/crapIcan'tthinkofanymore?" I do not know the difference between an "annual" and a "perennial" and how they relate to gardening. To me, an annual refers to a doctor's visit I'd rather avoid each year. And "perennial" spelled slightly differently, and pronounced with a different emphasis, refers to a part of my anatomy that I'd rather avoid talking about at that doctor's visit I like to avoid. You can see where I'm going here. I know nothing about gardening.

I have been known to pull up "good" plants thinking they were weeds and I may or may not have watered artificial flowers at some point in my life. I don't mow the lawn and have only done so once in my life when I traded chores with my brother (I quickly switched back - who was I kidding? Mowing is messy!). I do enjoy helping with the aeration once in a while, because it's fun to hop on that pogo stick contraption and it's a good workout. I have no idea why one aerates, though. It results in little dog poop looking things all over the lawn which is pretty unsightly.

Sometimes I accompany my husband to the nursery and I pick out plants that are "pretty" with no regard as to whether they will grow in our climate. I know what I like to look at and that's it. Don't ask me what kind of soil or nutrients a plant needs. I did honestly try to learn once and had a very long conversation with a woman who had me buy some type of pearly balls to shake all over my flower beds. I don't know if it made any difference. I do know that those little shakers of wildflowers (which look so handy) do not work - they never grow! It might have something to do with the fact that I forget to water them, but still.

I know my favorite flower is a Gerbera daisy and I know how to cut floral stems under running water at an angle. I can arrange flowers in a vase. And that's where my gardening skills end. I am forever appreciative that my husband knows how to garden and can walk out on the back deck and snip basil or mint or some other delectable thing for our dinner. I'm glad he knows what will grow in a pot and what needs to be put in the ground and that he makes pretty displays in our yard that I enjoy looking at. And I really love it when someone walks by and comments on our landscaping and I talk about how "we" did this and that. Truth be told, there is no "we" about it. It's all him. Because he just KNOWS this stuff and could care less about the dirt under his nails or embedded in the cracks of his hands that will not come out even with repeated washings. He calls it "clean dirt". I call myself lucky. Garden on, my friends!

I'm bored!

It's the weekend......and you know what that means? Mom, I'm bored? Bored, you say? I wish I knew how to be bored. Bored is wasted on the young. I remember being bored, but I can't for the life of me figure out how or why I was EVER bored as a child. I had the whole world at my feet! Hours of unsupervised playtime! I could leave home on my bike and return when I felt like it, or when it got dark, whichever came first. But I and my peers also possessed something our new generation of young seem to have lost. Evolution seems to be phasing it out. It's called imagination.

Today two of my kids were actually laying on the floor, complaining about being bored and expecting me to do something about it. Helpfully, I suggested they could do some spring cleaning which was immediately rejected. I offered them the opportunity to go through their picture drawers - deep drawers where I've tossed all their pictures and some school mementos into (what? I love doing that!). No dice. I even suggested they take their cameras and go on a photo safari, taking pictures of "signs of spring" (see how helpful I was offering a theme?). There was a tiny spark of interest but it dimmed as quickly as it had burned. I said it was really THEIR job to learn how to entertain themselves and my child said she didn't know how. Truly, is this now a learned behavior? Is necessity no longer the mother of invention?

When I was "bored" as a child, I would retreat into my room and lay on my bed and draw. Nothing made me happier and the best gift I could ever get was blank white paper which I filled with hundreds of drawings of people. In my head, there was always a story going; instead of writing it down, I drew it. Sure, it made no sense to anyone else. But I didn't draw for anyone else. I drew for me. It was my entertainment. I also loved playing with Fisher Price Little People. Or just sticks of different sizes that could be my pretend "family". As a teen, I would read, make photo albums, write notes to friends, write letters, listen to music, take a walk, hang out with friends doing nothing, bake. I could always come up with something and I didn't ask my parents to entertain me. I KNOW I lamented that I was "bored" many times, but I don't remember getting a suggestion of what to do unless it included the vacuum cleaner or a container of Comet.

I firmly believe that too much screen time has seeped our kids' imagination from their brains. Without a screen, they are lost. At any given time they have a cell phone, a computer, an iPad, a TV. Once they exhaust their options on those, they have no clue where to turn. But inside the house we have books, arts and crafts, music, games. And outside there's a world of possibilities. Still, today they wanted to "go somewhere". When I suggested several parks, they said "and do what?" (umm...play?). When I suggested a short hike, they said there was "no place good around here". So, we didn't go anywhere. Because we couldn't agree on what to do. Which was just fine with me, because my "to do" list will never be completely done and I was plenty busy.  I clipped coupons and paid bills. What fun! And I still have "homework" from my job to do. It involves coloring (hey, I work in a kindergarten!) and do you think they want to help me with that? Nope. Now, I ask you, who doesn't love to color?

I guess they might as well enjoy being bored while they can. For all too soon, they will be so busy they won't have time to be bored. They will WISH for a day when all the chores are done, and everyone is fed, and everyone has clean clothes and there's food in the pantry, and the floors are clean, and the bills are paid, and the house is spotless, and they find themselves suddenly and utterly struck by paralyzing boredom. And by the time they begin to think about what to do with all that delicious, unexpected time, the baby will cry and the dog will throw up on the rug and a glass will break, and the doorbell will ring, and someone will be hungry and, likely as not, someone will be pulling on their leg saying "I'm bored!"

Things we do differently when the cat's away.....

I'm not particularly fond of the times when my husband is away on a trip. For one thing, I have to take care of the animals. Which I don't like much. Especially when "taking care of them" means getting up close and personal with their stomach contents or, worse, the contents of their backsides. Ew. Also, I have to make the kids' lunches every night, not just on some nights, and I have to do all the driving to and fro, and is it really necessary to make dinner for the kids EVERY night? Sigh. That's one thing we do differently when the cat's away. Hm. Jeff is not much like a cat. I'll call him the Catfish. There, a fishing reference. More appropriate.

Usually when the Catfish is away, I enjoy my "alone" time and the novelty of "just mom and the kids". But this time I'm sick. Like sicker than a dog sick. Well, not sick like that because my dogs just barf all the time, so I'm not THAT kind of sick. But I have a stuffed-up head, a sore throat that would give strep the willies, coughing so hard I'm dizzy, and the requisite exhaustion that comes along with all of that. I have not missed a day of work (not sure if that's a feather in my cap, or just really stupid, because I shudder to imagine how many people I might have exposed to this illness). I have not missed an appointment or other obligation with the kids. But on Monday I was really tired. Arlie and I made an executive decision to skip dance class. Right after we made an executive decision to stop at Safeway on our way home from the airport to pick up a chicken dinner. And while we were there, we spotted a new Little Debbie product (basically just Ding-Dongs) and I said "do we need to try these?" and Arlie replied "We do! And dad's not home!" Into the cart!

Today was another tiring day. I actually fell asleep in the afternoon due to sheer exhaustion from being sick for almost three weeks. I told Hannah what to make for dinner (and she did it - bonus!). But before that, I had stopped at Target and bought toilet paper (because of course we ran out) and there was a lovely coconut cream pie on sale. So, I purchased it for our "Dessert and Dance Moms" night on Tuesdays. It's sort of a new tradition - watch a trash TV show and have a dessert together once a week. Catfish does not understand our obsession with this show (and frankly, neither do we) but it's the point of just being together for an hour.

Tonight on the phone, Catfish yawned boredly (is boredly a word? It is now!) as I spoke of my health woes. Of course I could not see him yawn, but it was implied in his voice. Then, he proceeded to tell me that if I had any type of bacterial infection, the z-pac I just finished would have made me feel "significantly better" within 24 hours and that since it didn't, what I was dealing with was a virus and I certainly did not need the second antibiotic the doctor was ordering. Well, thank you Dr. Catfish. But I'm pretty sure if HE were home alone, sick and the only one in charge, he'd sure as hell want something to make HIM feel better. He even went so far as to say that eventually I would get better from the virus and it "would be a shame" to give the augmentin credit. Certainly. A shame. And to that I say, STFU. Because I'm bustin' my ass over here AND doing it while sick and if it were him, he'd have taken a sick day off work and SLEPT ALL DAY! Preposterous. Show me a mom who ever does that and I'll show you.....well, ok, maybe I'd show you a healthy person, but still. The point is, there are no sick days when you're a mom. Or when you don't have the kind of job where you are required to get a sub when you're gone.

I'm joining Catfish in just over a day and I surely do hope to enjoy some sun in California. I just hope I'm well enough to enjoy it. Because at this point, sleeping all day DOES sound like a vacation to me. That, and an ibuprofen cocktail. Salud!

The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day........

Today I woke up at 6:15 a.m. after having slept only four hours. I lay in bed until 7, at which time I had JUST enough time to get ready for work and dash out the door. Just as I was leaving my room, I received this text: There is dog crap and barf downstairs. I had to leave. This, from my son, who DID have a bus to catch. But still. So, I went downstairs, abandoning any notion that I might have time to grab something quick to eat on the way out the door, and instead set to cleaning up a trail of dog turds and two large spots of dog vomit on the carpet (always the carpet, never the hardwood). I could not find ANY type of carpet cleaner so I quickly decided to make my own using vinegar, baking soda, and dish soap. Only I mixed it in a tiny bowl. So, of course, the volcano effect happened and the mixture poured all over the counter, and dripped down the cabinet fronts. I hastily wiped it up and scooped the mixture into paper towels to use as carpet cleaner. I did a cursory job of scrubbing the carpet, grabbed my purse and lunch, washed my hands and left - 20 minutes late. No breakfast, but thank God for the nice people who sometimes put treats in the staff room, I grabbed a muffin that had been there since the Friday before, and a clementine.

After work, I had to take my daughter, her boyfriend, and a friend to the airport, and pick up my other daughter from the airport. I had JUST enough time to dash home from work and collect them. As they loaded the car, I took an opportunity to pee (my first that morning), and when I got upstairs, I found cat poop on the floor. I yelled through the closed door of the kids' bathroom where my daughter was taking a shower "there's cat poop on the floor! I have to go!" and ran back downstairs to get in the car. Only, I realized the dog was missing. I went back in to search for the dog, finding him nowhere in the house. He had obviously taken our rushed situation as an opportunistic time to escape and wander the neighborhood. He came back after a short search and I locked him in the kennel. Stupid dog.

I went to the airport, dropped off kids, picked kid up, stopped at Safeway to pick up a chicken dinner, fed everyone, went to a dress rehearsal, took the kids to Dairy Queen, came home, made lunches, picked the chicken clean and made chicken salad, boiled the bones for broth, cleaned up the counters, paid bills, canceled a dentist appointment, made a list for tomorrow, helped kid register for next year's classes, and now I'm finally tucking in with my computer. Did I mention my husband is out of town? I just want sleep. And to have no pets. And a snack.