Archive for July, 2008

So, the responses could easily be broken down into:

The cat plurked up the bird after it twittered at him (what are these things of which you speak?)

Run, run, as fast as you can! (cause then you won’t get sucked into this fad and will have time in your life to do other stuff you love to do and hey, Jen, take up knitting!)

Ok then. I shall neither Twitter nor Plurk and instead learn how to use my camera, PSE 5.0, and scrapbook my little heart out. Knitting? Probably ain’t gonna happen, sorry.

Twitter or Plurk?

Discuss…

Well, we’re into Day Two of “Clean up your ##%$*!#$ rooms or I will take care of it Thursday afternoon with a Big Black Garbage Bag” and there is still no progress. On the plus side, it has been deliciously quiet with the boys stuck in their respective rooms, and I’m getting an enormous amount of work done. Funny how cause meets effect like that.

Another book review. Our weekly visits to the most awesomest library in the Western Hemisphere has pushed me to read more. I’ve read more this summer than I have in the last several years, and I’m one happy camper. I’m currently in the middle of a book on perfectionism and happiness (and hooboy it’s an eye-opener for me!) and needed something a little lighter for my exhausted brain.

Enter How to Eat Like a Hot Chick by Jodi Lipper and Cerina Vincent. First off, there is really no redeeming quality to this book. Pure fluff. Cotton candy for the brain. But, like cotton candy, it’s light and fun and you just gotta have that sometimes. There is nothing in here that you don’t already know about eating and/or dieting, but it’s still a fun read. As I read this, what kept going through my head was, “This is Kelley. Kelley is a Hot Chick. I am not yet a Hot Chick.” And I realized I needed to work on my Hotness…mostly in the shoes department, but this is about eating, not shoes. If you have an aversion to profanity, this is not the book for you. The f-bomb is carpet bombed throughout the book. If you have an aversion to comparisons between food and sex/men/things you can do to men with food…this is not the book for you. If, however, you need a fun, easy (I whipped through this in an afternoon) read for lounging about with a cocktail, this is the book for you.

Then go back to the harder reads…like the comics.

Did I miss a memo somewhere? Maybe in childbirth classes? ‘Cause that’s the last place I took a class about kids. I mean, I know it’s difficult being a parent and always has been, but come.on. This tough? Are ya kidding me? And I’m not the only one right now having a rough time.

Jamie’s daughter “got revenge” on her younger brother in an, um, interesting way.

Kelley’s son is scared to go into the kitchen because of a sweet potato.

Michelle had to drop the boom on her son while visiting her sister.

Tootsie’s Boy Child #2 is doing his perfect imitation of the middle child and driving everyone insane in the process.

My friend Kate is so exhausted from caring for her newborn that I’m not entirely sure she knows which way is up.

And I’m sure there are many, many more and the parents are too overwhelmed to write about them.

Is it a full moon? Is that it? Because my kids haven’t gone batsnot crazy with the full moon since April, and I was anticipating July to be bad. Tell me, I can handle it. Is it because J will be 4 on Sunday (holy.crap. his party is Friday night and I just freaking remembered)? Is it because it’s summer break and it’s hot and the kids are out of school and underfoot all day? How the hell did pioneer women do this? Granted, many of them died young, but good God! For my own sanity, someone tell me how to petition for year-round school!

My kids are stuck in their respective rooms until aforementioned rooms are cleaned. I tend to pick my battles, and rooms usually aren’t as high on the list as, say, learning to not mouth off or something. Today I decided the rooms were worth battling. When it gets to the point of being dangerous to go in there at night to check on them, it’s time. They’ve been up there for 2 hours and I can guarandamntee that they’re not clean. At least it’s quiet down here.

Learning to parent while parenting is the most insane thing I’ve ever heard. I had five years of college to learn to be a band director. There’s no way I could have taught without that education. Could you just imagine me going in to my first beginner french horn class and looking at the kids and saying, “Well, I know nothing about this instrument, I guess I’ll just have to figure it out as we go…oh, and I’m the final word.” Anarchy, I tell you. (Oh, and don’t even get me started on how woefully unprepared I was for classroom management).

The lack of summer activities here is really starting to take a toll. Many things are too expensive, too distant, it’s too hot out, or the boys have a short activity in the middle of the day. I used to say I was working for OT; now that A is out of OT (thankyouGOD!), I’m now working for summer camps 2009. And, come next spring, if I say that “oh, we’ll be fine with only a few activities,” someone reach through the monitor and pop me one on the forehead a la “I coulda had a V8!” ’cause I’ll totally have that coming.

But seriously, tell me again why we don’t have year-round school?

Never, ever, go to Whole Paycheck Foods for groceries on an empty stomach, at dinnertime, right after an acupuncturist appointment.

If, for whatever crazy reason, youdo, then for God’s sake, do NOT put the entire tin of macaroons up in the front seat next to you.

That is all.

It’s our anniversary today. Twelve years. Hard to believe most days that we’ve been married twelve years, together fifteen. But we have, and it’s good.

I’d expound further on how wonderful my husband is, etc., but see, we painted this weekend. And the house is torn all to hell. And the boys think their parents are a tv in the basement, where it’s cool and refreshing. And we’re going hiking today (if A’s ankle can handle it…darned kid slid down the stairs on a large piece of cardboard yesterday as we were assembling Tom’s new office furniture and twisted it).

Happy Anniversary, Tom. It’s been an adventure, and as crazy as it is, I love it. And I love you. Thanks for asking me to marry you.

Ahhh…July 5th, the day the United States wakes up gingerly, head pounding, stomach queasy, ears ringing and wonders, “What the hell just happened?” The day when the good ole’ US of A swears to never again have that 6th bratwurst, drink an entire bucket of margaritas, and blow shit up til its ears ring.

But not here in the House of Chaos. No, we don’t celebrate like others. Here we paint on national holidays. Over Memorial Day weekend we embarked upon the Great Painting Job of 2008 and this weekend we tore apart Tom’s office. What, don’t you rip apart entire rooms and paint in 96 degree heat on the southwest corner of the second floor with the window shut and covered with newspaper and the a/c doesn’t work worth crap up there? No? Huh. You’re missing out.

I will post pictures later, after we finish the painting, assembling the furniture, and drinking mass quantities.

Know what I’m doing tomorrow?

It’s the first Sunday of July.

It’s my 12th anniversary.

Give up?

Get your mind out of the gutter, will ya?

Colorado’s blue laws were greatly reduced on Tuesday. Now we can buy liquor on Sundays, not just the crappy 3.2% beer you can find in the grocery stores. Liquor stores can open on Sundays now. Tomorrow you may find me wandering the cool aisles of my local liquor store, buying wine just because I can. No more wishing for seconds on the Communion wine because it’d been a hard morning; we can just stop on the way home from church. Never again will we freak out that we have nothing for Sunday dinner, or a Broncos game, for we can now exit our home, hunt, gather, and return with a bottle or six.

It’s good to join the 21st century.

To all my friends in the States, Happy Fourth of July!

(yes, I took this picture last night.)

When Carmen wrote about the 100 pushup challenge, I was intrigued.

And then casually mentioned to her that I was thinking of doing it. Which then committed me to doing it.

Real pushups, not girl pushups.

On a good day I can do maybe three real pushups. On a not-so-good day I fall asleep on the floor. I know they’re good for me, but how many pushup people does a family need? My brother is in the Army and can knock out pushups like nobody’s business. I figured I’d just let him do the pushups for the both of us.

Riiiiiiight. Not so much.

I’m starting on the very lowest level, and hoping that doesn’t kill me. So far, so good. Talk to me in a few weeks…I may be typing with my tongue.

And then I’ll lift my van over my head.