A Mom Thing

Being in the Doghouse Sucks.

 

Unfortunately DOG/LUCY doesn't look too remorseful in this photo. But she IS. SHE REALLY IS.

You see her dinner?  The empty tiny cereal boxes.  EMPTY being the operative word.

LUCY went into the pantry today and ate the kids little "treat" cereals.  She did. And she enjoyed every morsel -- even as she knew she'd pay for it.

Tonite, H put the wrappers in her dogbowl.  She was rarin' to go for dinner.  And-there-they-were. The wrappers. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo! 

Damn right. 

PS - I'm still "blogstipated" ... But I'm TRYIN. REALLY I AM...

Overheard...

 or

I caught Little Guy practicing his brother's song for the big "Spring Show" ... the song is "I love Rock and Roll" by Joan Jett. 

My favorite part was when he blasted out, "Put another dime in the juicebox baby! Oh yeah...!"

Classic. 

An Unintended Blog Break

I am on one. An Unintended Blog Break. 

Just too busy with everything to blog well.  And there's nothing worse than a boring/bad blog.

Nothing "wrong" ... and no worries... I'll be back ... just need to unclog a bit.

Super Secret Social Supper Club, Y2, Q1

 

A group of us (4 couples) started getting together (WITHOUT KIDS) for supper club.  Every quarter, rotating home.  Fancy food. Lotta' libations. FUN.  We're all good friends now.  It's an event to look forward to, for sure.

Are you wearing your husband's socks?

We're a fashion-conscious family ... sometimes. And sometimes not.  Middle Guy has the most advanced sense of style.  Though Daughter would probably argue that.  The reality is -- we all have our moments on both sides of the fence.

But I digress.  I was at the gym last week. A lot of the gals at the gym always look so nice.  So ... put-together.  Typically, I'm just happy to be there.  And remember - I sweat - so how pretty CAN you look?

So. Sometimes I happen to be wearing my husband's gym socks.  If they are what I grab, they are what I wear. I pull them up so they don't scrunch in my shoes. But that DOES mean the heel hump comes up and over the shoe.  It just sits there out of place, sticking out a pre-teen bra that just doesn't fit.

My trainer busted me on it last week.  He looked astonishingly and said, "Are you wearing your husband's socks?"  Me:  Yes...You should see when Little Guy wears them - they come up to his knees and bump out at the calf. Him:  Silence.  I think he was distracted and slightly offended by them the whole time.  Socks...they are just socks.  Right?

Sometimes I'm a complicated girl with simple tastes.  Sometimes I'm a simple girl with complicated tastes.  It's part of my charm.

Crepe Happens...

Needed to kill a couple spring break hours today.  Restless kids.  Decided to take a trip in our kitchen. We're making crepes!  Never done it. Why not, right?

Kids are making french mustaches and paper berets.  H made iron-on t-shirts. We're making cheese crepes and chocolate ones for dessert.  YUM!

  

  

Crepes

2 eggs
1 cup milk
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup flour
2 tbsp butter, melted

Beat the eggs well, then beat in the milk, salt, flour and butter.  Cover and let stand for at least 30 minutes. 

Heat a 7-inch skillet until moderately hot, then film it with butter.  Pour in several tablespoons of batter, then quickly tilt the pan so the batter spreads in an even thin circle. 

Cook. Flip. Fill (we did shredded cheese, salt and pepper and then nutella ones for dessert). Eat.

Bon Appetit.

Easter Feaster - Take 6...

6th (?) Annual Easter Party.  So good.  Best yet? Inside hunts and outside (about 375 filled plastic eggs). 50+ people (including 20+ kids). Surprise visit from the Easter Bunny. FOOD. DRINKS. CANDY. FUN. FAMILY. FRIENDS. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time to clean up the church

I really don't mean this to be a political statement at all.  It was just simpy that - time to clean the church on Saturday.

I guess they put a call out to all parishioners once a year (only once a year!?) to come help clean the church before Palm Sunday.  This year I put a note on the calendar. If we could help out, I thought it would be good for the kids and just a good thing to do.

So, off we went at around 9:30 Saturday morning.  All 5 of us put on our scrufty clothes and piled into the car to head to church.  Our family of five took a section of about 30 pews. We scrubbed them down with Murphy's, we chiseled off the wax drippings, we swept and mopped.  The boys even got down under and gum-spotted.  It felt good. It only took about an hour but it felt so good. It felt so right to give back a little.

Please Pass the Salt...?

When you are at the dinner table and you ask for the salt...does it get passed to you?  Well, um, not at our house.  For some reason the game of "If you ask for it, you will not get it" started a couple years ago. It started with H's family.  And trickled down to us. 

Salt or Ketchup - if you ask for it, you will have to wait for all of the other people to partake in a game of passaround.  You're usually lucky if anything is left by the time it gets to you.

It's extremely rude but highly entertaining to watch as the wiser ones end up reaching for things that really should be passed. It's kinda' funny.  Well, unless you're the one in the want.

Sometimes H and I reflect that "not many" would "make it at our home."  It's a tough crowd.  We laugh a lot... but a tough crowd for sure!

When the mirror of life says, "BOO!"

I wrote the subject of this post awhile ago...and it's been taunting me to finish it ever since. But as simple and cute as the title is...is as complicated as the insight is. 

Here's the gist. As the kids get "older" (6, almost 8 and 9), I am starting to see myself more and more in them.  Sometimes it's exciting and heartwarming and sometimes it's just scary and a touch too insightful.

Sure, I see the good -- the kind-huge-heartedness and sensitivity...the need to be on time or early...the perfectionists...

But I also see the scary -- the impatience...the fear...

--- A Quick Story: When the Mirror of Life says, "Boo!"

H was trying to teach Little Guy to ride a bike recently.  He's 6 ... fairly late for a two-wheeler.  But all our kids were late to it.  Mostly because we live on a busy street in a busy city where you can't just "let 'em ride."  Even the closeby lakefront bikepath is competitive and crowded with weekend athletes. (I'll never forget the time I almost crushed a TURTLE ON A LEASH.  Yeah, right?) The easily stoppable sidewalk sports of running and scootering are so much more manageable. 

That said - riding a bike (in my book) is just like learning to swim, drive or do excel and powepoint.  You MUST learn.  They are all facts of life that you'd better just add to your toolbelt.  And so they learn. The other kids just hopped on a bike at the age of 6 and rode off.  Done.  Fun. Done.  Not Little Guy.

He SO struggles with it.  He does not want both feet off the ground at once.  He freaks himself out in his head so intensely that he brakes the bike and forces a fall. Every time.  It's fear.  Plain and simple. It's "in his head" and he's afraid. It drives (fearless) H nuts.  N-U-T-S.  He just gets frustrated and mad that Little Guy is acting irrational.  And me? I melt with recognition.  Watching him on the bike was like watching myself on that ski slope, sidestepping (angrily and embarrassedly) down the mountain. 

Fear.  I hate fear.  And yet I am a relatively cautious, risk-adverse person. Let's just say I have come a long way but I still have a big respect for fear.  It does not freeze me. But it scares me. Fear scares me. It always has. The funny thing is that H is the opposite. He looks at fear and laughs at it.  Or kicks it in the nuts.  Or flips it off.  I am not so direct.  I either avoid it.  Or ... if truly faced, I try sneak my way around it and cajole it into thinking we are friends. 

Hmm.  What a pair we are, right?  A perfect match me thinks.