An Iowa Mom

Can You Say Addicition?

We own a Leapster.

A Leapster.

As in singular.

One.

Uno.

Well, that's a lie.  Now we actually own two. 

Why?  There are a number of reasons:

• Because I'm weak. 
• Because I couldn't take the fighting anymore. 
• Because Emily's whine is down right the most annoying sound in the universe.

Okay ... here is the short version of the story.  We are participating in a city wide garage sale this weekend.  I've been going through EVERYTHING in this house.  A Leapster was discovered.  I replaced dead batteries.  It's Drew's.  He wanted to play it.  So did Emily.  Did I mention it's Drew's Leapster?  So Drew played it.  And Emily cried.  A LOT!

I reasoned with her.  I explained to her.  I begged her.  I pleaded with her.  I broke down.  I gave in.  I got in the car.  I went to Walmart (because I wanted to use my bags.  HA!).  I purchased a new Leapster.  The End.

My question is:  How long can one play a Leapster before their head explodes?

Just wondering ... so that I'm prepared.  I want to have all the cleaning supplies ready and everything. 

Big Daddy would be so proud.  Just don't tell him ... I don't want him to think I'm capable of cleaning anything.  It will blow the cover on this scam I've been running all these years.  However, if Emily's head does happen to explode ... I'll clean it up.  Or call somebody to do it.

Just so long as I'm prepared.

Tell It Like It Is

The other day, this paper came home in Drew's folder.  YES, I know it's dated back in November ... but I told Drew to clean out his desk as he looked for an overdue library book.  Maybe that's why this paper finally made it's way to our house.

His answer cracked me up.  It's typical Drew.  And I love it ... almost as much as I love him.

What the heck ... where in the world did all this sappiness come from? That is so unlike me.  I'll have to get myself back in check.  In the meantime, bear with me.

And NO ... we didn't find the library book!

I Wish I'd Had a Tape Recorder

This morning I was feeling particularly nice.  Awaking on the right side of the bed will do that to you.  Normally I wake up on the left side and am a total bitch.  Ha ha ... on the left, instead of the wrong ... I crack myself up.  NOT REALLY!

Anyway, because I was in such a chipper mood (please note the word WAS ... my kids are such a buzz kill), I decided to drive my boys to school, rather than them riding the school bus.  This gives them about 20 more minutes at home ... to do what they like to do.  Ya know, whatever that is ... torment their little sisters, lose library books, mess up my clean kitchen ... yadda yadda.

As we pull up to the school, the boys emerged from the very back of the suburban, pushing past the girls legs that they refuse to lift up making life a little easier on all of us.  I hop out of the vehicle, to open the door for them, because it's child locked ... for obvious reasons.  Most people flip that little switch on the door as a PRECAUTION ... I flip it as a NECESSITY as both Drew and Molly have managed to open their door WHILE WE WERE DRIVING.  Not joking. Good times.

So, as the boys jump out, I smile and kiss Drew on the top of his head and tell him to have a good day.  And he's off.  Then Jake appears and I smile again (remember I'm in a good mood) and I mumble that I know better, and I won't touch him, let alone hug and kiss him.

He says ... GET THIS ... "That's okay, Mom!  You can hug me."

HA!  My fourth grade boy said that to me IN FRONT OF HIS SCHOOL.

WHILE OTHER CHILDREN WERE BEING DROPPED OFF.

So, I hugged him ... as my heart exploded and bounced all over the No Parking Fire Zone drive thru in front of the school.

And that's not all, as he was walking toward the door, he called out, "Love you!"

After I picked myself up off the sidewalk, I raced home, a little lightheaded, to write this post ... just to be sure I document this day.  I'm sure it will be a once in a lifetime. 

I promise, I didn't slip anything into his cereal bowl this morning.   

Pinky swear!

Yes, No ... Maybe So?

If I swapped out the white candles for a deep red, do you think this could work? 

I know most of you went for putting a piece of art work up there, but it just wouldn't work.  The ceiling is too low and the hole too wide, therefore, making it difficult to find something that would fit.  A lot of you suggested a TV there ... but mine is already here. 

And if you have no idea what I'm talking about ... I'm referring to this.

So ... YES?  NO?  Maybe so?

A Renter For Life?

On Saturday morning a trip to the bank was made. 

Why you ask?

It wasn't for a loan.  Or to pull money out of savings to buy me some new living room furniture.  Not a chance.  Big Daddy is sooooo mean like that.

We had to go to the bank to deposit birthday money that Molly received as gifts.  There is a rule at our house, if you are lucky enough to score a gift card for your big day, you can spend it.  If cold hard cash is tucked away inside your card ... into your savings account it must go.

Sad but true. 

So anyway, as we sat in the car in the bank parking lot, Emily was griping that she couldn't go inside the bank with Big Daddy and Molly.  Another rule.  Only Big Daddy and the owner of the moo-laa, go inside.  Aren't we great?  We try to make handing over their birthday stash as exciting as possible.  Who wouldn't want us as parents?

Emily:  NO FAIR!  Molly is going to get a sucker and I won't.

Me:  It's Molly's special day.  Your day will come.  Don't worry.

Emily:  Why does Molly have to give her money to the bank anyway?

Me:  She's not GIVING it to the bank.  The bank is holding it for her.  Someday, when you kids are older, you'll have lots of money saved up and you can use it for something GREAT!

Emily:  GREAT?  Like what?

Me:  Well, when you're 16, you might want to buy a car.

Emily:  No, I won't want to do that.  I don't want a car.  I just want my money to buy horses at Target.

Me:  Sorry. 

Emily:  <BIG GROAN accompanied by an eye roll> Why is it that a four year old has this down already?  That's just not right!

Me:  If you don't want a car, maybe you'll continue to save and when you turn 18 or 20 or 25, you'll want to buy a house.

Emily:  I can't buy a house, silly, it would be way too heavy to carry.

Okay then, I suppose we should go withdraw all your money and buy all the horses at Target.  Right after you eat that sucker you're sweet little sister brought out to the car for you.

It's That Time Again, Already?

The months tend to go by so quickly.  My mother warned me this would happen.  She did.  She said the older I got, the faster time would fly by.  She was right. 

Oh my God, I can't believe I just said that. 

Not only did I say it, I wrote it.  Geez Louise.  I must be getting old.  There is no other explanation.

Anyway, I can't believe that it's Scrap Bribing Time already ... over at Iowa Geek.  Whether I believe it or not ... it's here.

It's HERE I tell you!

So, if you're interested in this:

A Cosmo Cricket Biography 101 Scrapbook, which also doubles as a shadowbox.

Along with this:

A pad of patterned paper along with stickers and die-cuts.

You better get over here and enter to win.  It could all be yours.

Don't forget to tell her that An Iowa Mom sent you.  That part is important.  Really important.  Really.

Good Luck!

A New Napping Technique

This is what you will find when you FORGET that you've placed your newly turned three year old in the naughty spot ...

You would think I would have felt bad.  Or guilty.  But I was actually excited.  She NEVER takes a nap anymore and this would give me a few ME TIME minutes.

Can you say "LOSER MOM"?

Come on, all together now ... LOSER MOM!

There ya go.

Happy 3rd Birthday, Molly!

Today my baby turns 3. I can still remember the day she was born. We were all so happy to welcome her into our family.  Well, all of us but one. Molly has ALWAYS loved to pick flowers.

 

And it was almost 18 months before she finally grew some hair.

 

It has always been rare to find her without a smile.

Molly seemed to change from baby to toddler in the blink of an eye. It's rare these days to capture a picture of Molly when she doesn't look like a rag-a-muffin.  Outdoors and dirty is her favorite place and way to be.  She's happy doing everything from building a "worm house" in the creek, to riding her new bike, or pushing her stroller with her baby doll securely nestled inside. Molly is THREE!  ALL THREE! Happy Birthday, Big Girl!

Okay, I'll Do My "Earthy" Part

I love our world.  I do.  And I don't want anything to happen to it.  But, if you want to know if I've jumped on the whole 'Global Warming' and 'Save The Earth' bandwagon ... I haven't.

Okay, okay ... before any of you rush over to click the email button to tell me what a loser I am, just hang on a second ...

I do my part.  While I didn't use cloth diapers and don't drive a hybrid vehicle, we've always recycled.  I think I actually set more out in the recycle bins than the actual garbage can.  We are careful about leaving lights and water running.  A little bit here, little bit there ... we are conscientious about our environment, and try to do the right thing ... in a modest kind of way.

On Saturday I had to run to Wal-Mart, because ya know, they have a whole conspiracy thing against me and don't allow any other store in our area to carry the white cheddar cheese I like.  Or the 18 inch pepperoni stick.  Or the big bag of Chocolate Marshmallow Matey's ... so anyway, I HAD to go in there.

As I was moaning and groaning walking through the automatic doors, my kids were 10 steps ahead of me begging the greeter for a little, yellow smiley face sticker that would fall off their shirt 18 times before we gathered our 3 items, causing us to stop and peel it from the grimy floor, subjecting us to a total of 4.32 more minutes than had to be spent in this store I despise.  The lovely senior citizen that spoiled my children with stickers, also had a little somethin' somethin' for me.

FOR ME, I TELL YOU!

A reusable shopping bag.  At first I didn't think much of it.  Another damn thing my girls would insist on keeping around so they can hide things in it.  Like rocks.  Or cottage cheese.  Or each other.  Ya know, the norm. 

Then, we got to the check out and after scanning my items, they placed them inside this bag. 

And everything fit so nicely. 

And it was so easy to carry out, even freeing a hand to grab Molly as she darted out into the pedestrian walk where NO ONE ever freakin' stops!

And there were no plastic sacks to shove into my closet when I got home.

I was so tickled that I immediately went out and placed my green, reusable bag into the back of my gas guzzling Suburban ... so maybe I could use it again, the next time.

Fast forward ... Monday morning, 8:00am.  The sun is shining, the warm breeze blowing ... WE ARE OUT OF AND NEED BUBBLES.  Nothing a quick trip to Target won't fix.

Or maybe not.  They were out.  My heart sank as I thought, "Good thing nasty ol' Wally World is right next door."  Then I remembered my green bag, nestled nicely in the back of the car.

For some reason, that excited me.  I know, it doesn't take much.  That's what happens when you stay home with 4 kids for 10 years ... you realize "IT'S THE LITTLE THINGS!"

As we strolled to the bubbles, Emily and Molly fought over who would carry the bag.  And then, right there in front of us (I don't know how they always manage to do that), was a display of similar bags for only a buck.  Problem solved.  Now, we'd only have to fight over who gets green and who gets black. 

We bought bubbles.  Bubble blowers.  Bubble cups.  Bouncy balls.  Sunscreen.  Soap.  Shampoo.  Juice Boxes.  Hot Dogs.  Hot Dog Buns.  Chips.  Peppermint Patties.  Bucket of Bubble Gum.  Twizzlers.  And Benadryl  ... among other things ...

And it all fit in these two nice bags.  I was impressed.  For a moment.  A BRIEF MOMENT ... I kinda, sort liked Wal-Mart. 

BUT DON'T YOU DARE TELL ANYONE.  Because I will never admit it.  Making you look like a big, fat liar.

Think I'll look too white trash carrying my reusable Wal-Mart bags into Target?

Who Knew?

Though it's April rather than October, this weekend was full of football for our family.  Yes, football.  Both Jake and Drew signed up for flag football this spring, so we'll spend both Saturday and Sunday for the next 5 weeks at the football complex here in our area.

The boys enjoy playing just as much as Big Daddy and I enjoy watching.  On Saturday, as I was driving Drew up Interstate 380 toward the fields where we play, he mumbled that he was so nervous that he thought he'd puke.  He knawed on his mouthpiece as his normally fresh and bright face turned a dull shade of green.

Once there, shirt tucked in, flags securely in place ... he began to calm down.  After the first quarter and 3 pulled flags and a touchdown later, he jogged off the field.  In a voice loud and bold enough for not only everyone on our sidelines ... but everyone in a 500 yard radius ... could hear, he blurted ...

"Wow, I DID NOT KNOW I was this GOOD at football."

"That's my boy!" I thought to myself as I slowly and non-chalantly slid under the bleachers.

Compliments Of My Nephew

My nephew found this on YouTube and thought of my blog.  So he shared.  And I'm glad he did.

Every one needs a Saturday giggle ... and this one is quite contagious.

Enjoy!

Like A Hole In The Head

When designing fireplaces and their mantels, who in the world decided it would be a good idea to put a "hole" so to speak, above the fireplace behind the mantel?

WHO?  I really want to know who's ideas this was ... so I can find that person and slap them upside the head.

I've had one of these "holes" above my fireplace for 11 years now.  ELEVEN.  And I used to place numerous photos in pretty frames, in an pleasing formation. 

However, I am sick of that now, and I don't know what to do.  Take a look at this ... and please keep in mind when doing so that the items placed on the fireplace are not there as an attempt to decorate ... they are simply there to remind me to put them in the garage sale pile, and I was too lazy to remove them before I snapped the photo ...

So, tell me.  What the hell am I supposed to do with this?  I need this hole, like I need a hole in my head.  Even though a hole in my head sounds somewhat appealing when trying to figure out what to do with this hole above my fireplace.  Just being honest here.

I mean, really, isn't it bad enough that the fireplace and mantel is uglier than sin ... that they had to add a HOLE above it?  Seriously.  I'm asking.

Ideas, please.  If you have this same set up, share a picture, because I'm at a loss ... and for once ... in 11 years, I'd like to have this dilemma fixed. 

Then we'll move on to the curtains.

Always A Price To Pay

Last weekend, our schedule was full.  And by full ... I mean, FULL.

Jake had a double header in Muscatine on Saturday and well as his first flag football game on Sunday afternoon.  Drew had his first soccer game Saturday morning and his flag football game on Saturday afternoon.

Big Daddy and I would be going in opposite directions the entire weekend. 

And then the rain started. 

And it rained and rained.  And then rained some more.

Soccer was canceled.  Then football.  Then finally baseball.

We were given a gift.  A gift of a weekend.  It would have been a crime to waste it.  Right?

So I suggested Big Daddy paint the kitchen and living room.  The colors have been picked for months.  The new curtains and rod for the living room were waiting patiently in the garage.

He moaned.  Then groaned.  Said "no" about 15 times.

Then I did what every woman should do when their husband says they won't paint when they really really want them to.  I fell on the floor, kicked my legs and flailed my arms, opened my mouth as wide as I could and tantrumed like a 2 year old.  Wait, more like a 3 year old.  I think the art of this tactic should be taught in a premarital seminar that every wife-to-be must attend.

I just happen to be lucky that I've had so much experience with these types of tantrums, that I've got it mastered.  Down to a science, actually.

And Big Daddy painted.

Then he hung my new curtain rod.

And the curtains I've had purchased and waiting to be hung don't work.

Not to mention that Big Daddy treated himself to a little somethin' somethin' for all the time and effort he put in.

Turns out he is pretty darned happy.

Me on the other hand, I'm left with naked windows, as well as being strapped to this house all day waiting for the DirectTV guy to come hook up HDTV ...

Oh, and a fireplace mantel that is driving me crazy. 

More on that later.

There's always a price, isn't there?

Polictics, Religion and Children

Last night, the democratic debate was present on our television.  As Clinton and Obama bantered back and forth, Drew entered the room and sat down.

Drew: I hope Obama becomes president.  Don't you?  (total transformation from the elementary politics we discussed back in January)

Me:  No. 

Drew:  Why not?

Me:  I'm a republican.  Both of the candidates you see there on the TV are democrats. 

Drew:  What's the difference?

Me:  Democrats and republicans sometimes believe and view things in different ways.  Want different things.  Don't always agree on the way we think the country should be run.

Drew:  Well, I'm a democrat.

Me:  Are you?  What do you believe in?

Drew:  Hanukkah

Big Daddy and I busted out laughing.  It was one of those moments when the innocence of children shines through and when you realize that your seven year old really knows NOTHING about a lot of things that would be worth explaining.

** Note to readers:  We are not Jewish, which is why we found his answer so funny. **

The Rights Of Being Born Before Another

Yes, I've been MIA the past few days.  I am aware.  I have no excuse.  I am sorry.  I will not tell you that it won't happen ever again ... because it probably will.

Anyway.

Yesterday morning, I'm whizzing through Target at 8:15am, for no particular reason.  I've come to realize that if I get my daily Target fix first thing in the morning, I'm a much happier wife and mother for the rest of the day.

As the girls and I maneuver through the home decor aisle, Molly blurts out, "I'm done now.  Mom, I want to go home.  RIGHT NOW!"

Emily gasped as if someone just ripped the head of her prized Baby Chou Chou and responded to Molly in a very firm and matter of fact tone.  "Molly.  You MAY NOT speak to Mom that way.  Only I can talk to her like that."

Hmmm, I guess being born 18 months earlier than another gives you the right to many things that even I, as a mother, did not know about.

The other woman in the aisle burst out in laughter as she witnessed the conversation between the girls ... chucking way too loud and long in my opinion.  She voiced that my daughters were just adorable and she thought they were down right hilarious. 

I, on the other hand, did not.

Who Says I Don't Share?

A friend of mine just called and asked for this recipe that I had forgotten about.  Now I remember.  And I'm gonna share!

I think we've all needed a quick dip to throw together and take to a party at the last minute.  Here is one for you the next time you find yourself in that predicament. 

Zesty Pepperoni Dip

8 oz. softened cream cheese
4 oz. pepperoni
Town House Topper Crackers

1. Chop pepperoni in the blender.
2. Mix cream cheese in bowl and add pepperoni.
3. Chill 1 hour in refrigerator.
4. Set dip out at room temperature for at least 1 hour before serving.
5. Garnish with quartered pepperoni slice and spring of oregano.
6. Serve with Town House Topper Crackers.

It's as easy as it gets and is ALWAYS a big hit. 

A friend of mine just called and asked for this recipe that I had forgotten about.  Now I remember.  And I'm gonna share!

I think we've all needed a quick dip to throw together and take to a party at the last minute.  Here is one for you the next time you find yourself in that predicament. 

Zesty Pepperoni Dip

8 oz. softened cream cheese
4 oz. pepperoni
Town House Topper Crackers

1. Chop pepperoni in the blender.
2. Mix cream cheese in bowl and add pepperoni.
3. Chill 1 hour in refrigerator.
4. Set dip out at room temperature for at least 1 hour before serving.
5. Garnish with quartered pepperoni slice and spring of oregano.
6. Serve with Town House Topper Crackers.

It's as easy as it gets and is ALWAYS a big hit. 

The Wii Party

I planned.

I shopped.

I planned some more.

I baked.

I decorated.

I stressed.

I shopped some more.

I stressed even more than I shopped. 

And for what?

Jake's 10th Wii Birthday Party.  With 18 ten year old boys.  In my house. 

Did I mention that I stressed?  I even prayed a little. 

I also schemed how to make a break for it and escape, in the event I needed to.

Despite my poster board filled brackets, and individual medals I had for the winners ... there was no tournament.

Why you ask?

Because there was a football game going on in my back yard.

That's right.  A football game.  And every single child chose to play football rather than play the Wii.  Or even step inside the house for that matter. 

So ... all my decorating.  Planning.  Stressing.  Shopping.  Baking.  And Scheming ... was for nothing.

Probably because I did that little bit of praying. 

My prayer was answered, because a smile never left the face of any child, fun was had by all, not one argument, not one bit of misbehavior ... and the birthday boy informed me that was the BEST PARTY EVER.

And even though not one picture was taken (can you say "LOSER MOM"?) I suppose that's a Wii Party we'll never forget, eh?

So, there ya have it.  I was hoping I could slide by without anyone noticing or remembering, but as per Cindy's request, I knew I had to fess up and fill you all in.

Are you happy now?

I Have Faith In You

UPDATE:  I was surprised at how many people actually land on this post after searching "wet baseball glove" or something similar.  Many ideas are in the comments below, however, here is what I did.

I took Jake's ball glove and stuffed pieces of newspaper in the fingers and palm (it was hard to do, but just do the best you can) and placed it on the shelf thingy that came with my dryer so that things won't tumble, and I put it on AIR dry so there was no heat.  I did this over and over and changed the newspaper 4 or 5 times (it really does soak the moisture out) and the glove was dry in about 8 to 10 hours.  You may need to go through the oiling process again, like you did when you first got the glove.

Hope this helps.  Let me know if it did.  Please!

Okay Bloggyville.  I need you.  Actually Jake needs you.  Because if you don't come through, I'm pretty sure Big Daddy is going to rip Jake's head off, throw it in the creek behind our house, and then tear apart his tiny body piece by piece until it's unrecognizable, and feed it to the little, wild creatures that come and crap in my yard every night.  I never noticed these little critters did this until Jessie left us ... now it's obvious. 

Anyway, I'm exaggerating.  Big Daddy wouldn't do that.  I don't think.  Probably.

Here is the deal.  Tonight was picture night for Jake's baseball team.  About 20 seconds before I was ready to jump in the car, I advised Jake to grab his ball bag because he might need his glove and/or bat for the pictures.

Jake smarts off and tells me that it's raining (more like pouring) and that he wouldn't need his bag, as they wouldn't be having practice. 

After I take a deep breath, count to five ... I repeated that HE MIGHT NEED IT FOR HIS FREAKIN' PICTURE!  Get the darn bag and put it in the car.

As I'm zippering the coats of the little ones, Jake appears at the door, white as a ghost ... with a look of pure terror on his usually sweet little face.  My first thought ... he peed his pants or something.  The look was THAT bad.

"Mom!" his bottom lip quivered.  "I can't find my ball glove."

"What do you mean?  It's in your bag."

"No, it's not."

I'm going to leave out all the details of what comes next ... and just tell you ... not to panic.  We found the baseball glove. 

Yes, we did.  Here it is:

Do you see that?  Does that look right to you? 

No!  It doesn't.  It's usually much lighter in color.  It's wet.  Not really wet ... soaked.

Not really soaked ... drenched. 

As in 25 times it's normal weight.  It was left out in the yard.  In the rain. 

I need it dry.  By Thursday afternoon.  I'd rather pull this off without Big Daddy knowing.  You know, to avoid the events I mentioned above.  That and the lecture upon lecture of responsibility and so on and so forth.  Jake is very responsible.  It's obviously never happened before.  The glove was left out in the midst of his birthday party ... accidents happen.  But I can guarantee Big Daddy will not see it that way.

And that's where you all come in.   I know when Bloggyville pulls together, we can move mountains.  Right?

How do I dry this glove by Thursday, without ruining it?

Someone has got to have the answer to this.

Livestrong Jack

A friend of mine sent this to me this morning ... and it was something that I wanted to share with all of you.  Even though I don't know this little boy and have never met his family ... I have fallen in love.

Jack made this YouTube video to raise cancer awareness and they were hoping to get 10,000 hits.  Please watch it and help them make their goal.  Thanks so much!

Freak of Nature

The other night our family decided that we should pay a visit to the Pizza Hut that we frequent on a regular basis. 

It was 5:00. 

It was snowing again in April (gotta love Iowa). 

And it was an hour and a half before Jake's Spring Program at school.  Some one please tell me that they dread these "school programs" as much as I do. 

So ... anyway, we head to Pizza Hut.  Because we are like family there.  The waitress knows us by name.  She knows exactly what each of us would like to drink and what kind of pizza we'll soon devour.  It's comfortable.  It's a safe bet that we'll be assigned to the corner booth and that we'll be in and out of there in less than an hour.

Drew took a bite into a second and last available breadstick just before the pizza arrived.

Then, decided the slice of pan cheese lovers was more appealing.  However, Jake was eying that very same breadstick.

Me:  Go ahead.  You can have that breadstick if you'd like.

Jake:  No way.  Not after he bit into it.  I'm not getting his freakish DNA!

Drew:  First of all, I'm not freakish.  Second, I certainly DO NOT have DNA.

No DNA?  Wow.  I think what we have here then folks, is a "freak" of nature. 

Just Because ...

I wanted to share because I thought that this picture perfectly captured the love and security of a big brother and his little sister.

Practice Makes Perfect

While I do have some blog worthy things to share with you ... I don't have the time to actually blog them. 

Who's idea was it anyway to give my 10 year old a party with 18 of his closest friends?  That person needs to get a clue.  Or at the very least, a brain.

So, anyway, the other day Jake was vacuuming.  Drew usually does the vacuuming because he likes it.  My miniature Big Daddy.  But, that particular morning Drew was at soccer practice and the main floor hadn't been vacuumed yet, and even though Jessie is hanging out at Rainbow Bridge waiting for us, I still insist on vacuuming the main floor every single day.  And Jake was assigned the duty.

When he was finished, he came to me with a rather glum face.  "Mom, I'm done.  I stink at vacuuming.  My lines aren't very straight."

I hugged him.  "Practice makes perfect, my dear."

Poor kid.  He inherited Big Daddy's genes. 

Sigh. 

He'll make some woman very happy one day.

It's All About Making Mom Happy

Okay ... my kids have somehow gotten a warped sense of what makes me happy.  Well, I shouldn't say "kids" ... I should say "boys", because the girls don't even attempt to make me happy.  Actually ... even though they are only 4 and 2, I think they conspire to do just the opposite.

Really.

I think they are in co-hoots to send me over the edge.  The edge that leads directly to the looney bin.  There is a padded room there ... with my name on it.  Just sitting empty, waiting for me ... because it is inevitable that I will end up there.  In that small room with a crappy cot and bad food.  Never mind that the food would probably be what I make here.  But, that is beside the point.

ANYWAY - This morning, as Big Daddy shook the boys, flickered their bedroom light on and off and hollered that it was time to get up and come eat breakfast ... Drew emerged and found himself one door down in my bed.

"Mom!"  he exclaimed, "Mom, look!"

Of course, I couldn't see through the sleep in my eyes and the pillow that I was using to block out the tiny bit of light managing to seep through our blinds.  "What?  Just 5 more minutes!"

"Mom!  Jake said this would make you really happy.  Last night, we got dressed.  And slept in our clothes ..."

"YOU DID WHAT?"

"Yeah, we got dressed and slept in our clothes ... so now you'll only have to yell at us to eat our breakfast and brush our teeth.  You won't have to yell at us to get dressed.  We're already dressed.  Jake knew you'd be SOOO happy."

"Great!" I tried to sound excited, but I was really wondering where in the hell I've gone wrong with this whole parenting thing.

Could It Be True?

No way!

Are you kidding me?

My heart is pounding.

Really.  Really.  Pounding.

Read This!

AND ... watch this ...

Who else was so totally infatuated and going to marry one of the "New Kids On The Block"? 

HHHmmmmm.

Which one of them was "yours"?

I was a Jordan girl.

Oh yeah ... by the way ... I do realize that I was probably one of the last to know.

Our Little Secret

Me:  On Saturday there are going to be 18 boys here to celebrate Jake's 10th birthday.

Emily:  EIGHTEEN BOYS!?

Me:  Yeah, I'm sorry.  It will be a rough few hours.  We'll get through it, don't worry.

Emily:  BOYS?  I LOVE Boys.  Especially A LOT of boys.

Let's not tell Big Daddy about this, okay?