Monday, February 23, 2009

homicidal thoughts

I could choke the person who invented the orange, cheesy residue on Cheetos.

tagged: couple stuff

Leah, from over at Mom! Are we there yet? tagged me on these questions about King and I.

How long have you been together? Twenty years
How long did you know each other before you started dating? 1 week (the longest week of my life)
Who asked whom out? King called me and asked me out to lunch
How old are each of you? we are 41 (he's exactly 2 weeks older)
Whose siblings do you see the most? probably equal
Which situation is the hardest on you as a couple? For me, the answer would be: being apart from one another. His answer would probably be: issues relating to child discipline. He thinks discipline does not equal love and that ignoring a behavior will make it go away. I will refrain from climbing atop a soapbox on this one.
Did you go to the same school? we met at college
Are you from the same home town? no
Who is smarter? As an engineer, he has an incredible capacity to remember all things relating to math... he knows all grades of formulas. *yawn* I have been blessed with the ability to think quickly and to think outside the box when problem solving is needed. But am I book smart? mmm.. notsomuch.
Who is the most sensitive? no doubt about it: me
Where do you eat out most as a couple? Bonefish
Where is the furthest you two have traveled together as a couple? England
Who has the worst temper? I have a quick temper and can get over it fairly quickly. King's fuse is much longer... however, once he finally gets there, it takes him awhile to calm back down.
Who does the cooking? I do most of the cooking and am the type of cook that looks in the cabinet/fridge/freezer and says, "mmm, these flavors might work well together." He does love to cook, but must follow a recipe (exactly!!)
Who is the neat-freak? hands down, me
Who is more stubborn? ditto
Who hogs the bed? I would say he does, and he used to be really bad about stealing the covers.
Who wakes up earlier? He wakes up early to get a jump start on work stuff.
Where was your first date? (remember, we were in college) McDonalds
Who is more jealous? I am. I am mostly jealous of the time he spends with his work. I call his job, "the other woman".
Who does the laundry? Our laundress, Miss Tiggy Winkle (aka moi)
Who’s better with the computer? I'd say we have equal strengths on being computer savvy, I do know a few more shortcuts than he does with those arrow buttons.
Who drives when you are together? If we are going on a long trip, usually he will drive, unless he needs to do work on his laptop. And, actually, he does a lot of the around town stuff lately, too.

So, there you have it. If you feel like being tagged, then *tag* you're it. They're kind of fun, actually.

marching on

In some aspects of parenting, the term "dismal failure" comes to mind; however, balancing things out a bit is number 5, who is having some great success on le toilette. She had made strides a few months ago, but "got better". (Reminds me of the quote from Monty Python's Holy Grail: "She turned me into a newt. I got better.") So, here we are again with the toilet training thing and it is cause for much celebration. Break out the "marcies"!

While most of the successes have been a result of my *ahem* paying attention to cues, last week I swear the heavens opened and angels were singing when I heard her small little voice from the couch where she was taking a little siesta, "Mommy. I go baffroom. Baffroom."

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

double dog dare ya

I double dog dare you to go to Little Jenny Wren's blog entry "One More Day in My Life", while holding your youngest child, her sweet, fat, little fingers pressing buttons on your laptop even though you keep saying "no" over and over, her freshly-washed curls tickling your chin, and NOT weep as you think about the day she will leave your nest.

Monday, February 16, 2009

hey, baby

This is NOT chap stick!!!

unfamiliar territory

I am in over my head y'all. I am not equipped to be the mother of a teenager. And it isn't even what you might suspect. I can handle the occasional Mount Vesuvius moments. That isn't the problem. The teen that I love has a personality I don't understand. Her emotions are in a quadruple-locked box. If you ask her, she's "just tired". All she wants to do is lie in bed and read. Flatline.

The polar opposite, my emotions are pretty much on my sleeve at all times. I openly communicate about my emotions, feelings, anxieties, and joys in an honest (sometimes brutally honest) way.

Having taken some classes in college that dabbled in counseling issues/skills, I have a walking knowledge of the kinds of ways to get people to open up. None of them work. Open-ended questions are met with dialogue-ending one word answers. Sometimes I come right out and ask what the problem is. "I don't know," she'll answer back. I employ lots of approaches including humor, solemn concern, empathy, and as crazy as it might seem to those of you who know me, I will be silent.....hoping she will take an opportunity to use it as her very own soapbox opportunity. Sometimes I offer suggestions on what I suspect may be the problem and occasionally I will ignore it altogether hoping it will go away. Occasionally she will blame stuff on a sibling, but when it comes right down to it, I am looking at a hand full of nothing to go on. During our heart-to-hearts which maddeningly turn into one-way diatribes, I lovingly explain that this is my first experience with a teen, and that I'd love some help understanding such a creach-ter. I tenderly walk through eggshells. I don't want her to feel like a freak or make things worse, but on the other hand, I don't want to coddle her so much that I am left with a spoiled rotten brat. It truly is a catch-22.

So, out of desperation, this weekend at Mass, I asked the Holy Spirit to guide me (I know, that should have been where I started in the first place..I'm a slow learner). The first thing I think I heard was "reach out to King". I suppose I have shielded him from a lot of it, because I felt like I can handle it. Realizing I cannot, I took that first step. We talked for quite a long time and are both on the same page so that we can present a united front. Even still, it's quite intimidating.

Please pray for us.

Friday, February 13, 2009

not that kind of shake, silly!

Yesterday, I wanted to see what my dear, little number 5 thought of the vanilla flavored rice milk I had bought for a house guest of ours. The first taste took her aback.
She looked at me and I told her it was sort of like milkshake (meaning you have to shake it before you drink it and not in the traditional sense of the term).
She took another sip and said, "shake?"
"Yes," I said, "that's right, shake."

Poor innocent sweetness. Ruined by her 3 year old brother and his cohorts.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

pms related ocd

Recently I did a "25 Random things about Me" list and one of the items I listed was that it bothers me when folks use improper grammar or misspell words.

However, today I realized that I am also rubbed the wrong way when people use the wrong word. Granted, I am most nearly a hormone hostage, but I find that I must put this in writing:

Pneumonia (pronounced NEW-monia) is an illness of the lungs.

Ammonia (pronounced AH-monia) is NOT an illness of the lungs. It is a really smelly liquid that does a bang up job getting grease out of clothes. Mixing ammonia and bleach is a no-no. (Danger, Will Robinson!)

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

what will fill these unused hours?

A couple of months ago I bought a garment steamer at the fabric store. Let me just take this opportunity to climb aboard my happy box and tell you what a great purchase that was.

I have gotten to the point that I despise ironing. I used to enjoy it. Especially on a rainy day, in front of Regis and (then) Kathy Lee, I'd lower the ironing board, sit on the couch and iron away. Not now. My "good iron" simply wore out and I bought a new one. It is a piece of cdddap (to be said in a Scottish accent). The bottom of it is rounded and it falls off my ironing board. It is dangerous to the floor, to my legs, and to the small souls underfoot. Both King and I decided that we would gladly pay exorbitant amounts of money to the dry cleaners just so that we wouldn't have to drag said "cdddap" out of the laundry room closet.

But now, once again, I look forward to ridding my family's clothes of their wrinkles. In fact, just because it is so much fun to use, I even steam the tee shirts. BAH HA HA HA. Imagine that. Who wudda thunk it?!?!?! I Googled images of garment steamers, and it looks as if there are a ton which are better quality than mine. Perhaps one day I will aspire to replace this little sweetie with one of them. But for now, I am in wrinkle free heaven.

If you don't already have one, you can imagine I would encourage you to get one. And, I am thinking it would make the perfect gift for newlyweds.

Friday, February 6, 2009

running into a little snag

The quilt is just a few stitches away from being complete. I am having a hard time thinking about selling it. I absolutely love it.
I was pinning it all together while number 5 was having her lunch.
All of a sudden she pointed to it and said, "My bayn-kit. I'un-it bayn-kit."

Oh greaaaat. That helps!

Thursday, February 5, 2009


Dispelling the "believe in yourself" myth.

on egocentrism

Remember your college psychology class?
Having a three year old is a constant reminder of the definition of egocentrism. Here was my morning dose of it.
Me: "Honey, your 20 minutes on the computer is up. Turn your game off and go play with some toys."
T'is Himself: "NOOOOOO... I don't want to stop playing computer."
Me: "I know, honey. But you will need to turn it off and do as I say."
T'is Himself: "I don't want to I said." crying
Me: "One..."
T'is Himself: screams. cries. "I want some juice!!"
Me: "I just gave you some 10 minutes ago, if it is gone, you will need to wait for lunchtime."
T'is Himself: "I don't want to wait til lunchtime. I want it now." cries. screams.
Me: "You will need to go climb into bed now. You are tired. You got to bed late and woke up too early."
T'is Himself: "Nooooooo... I don't want to!"
Me: finally agitated "I don't want to hear what you want or don't want."

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


This week I had a "slapped-with-a-dead-fish" type reminder of the fact that I really don't like being involved in other people's drama. Didn't leave a permanent scar, but it still stings a bit.
Rather than become a recluse, I must pick myself up, dust off me breeches, and continue my role as a loyal friend.
Forgive even when it isn't asked for.