System Failure

We don't have a lot of time for TV around here but I rely on my DVR to record my weekly crack fix, American Idol. The only show I really care about. And this season I'm especially addicted because I love, love, LOVE watching that weird haired, black nailed, ear pierced soprano singing Adam. I can't WAIT to see what he's going to do each week. And after putting the kids to bed the other night, I settled in to see.

I zoomed through the commercials and even some of the performances....and finally got to my little weirdo....saw his baby pictures....cracked up at his dad saying he didn't really like sports as a kid but loved to play dress up (shocking)...and then....

IT WAS OVER.

My mouth dropped open. I jumped up and all I could do was point to the TV, with my jaw on the floor, gasping for breath like I was hyperventilating or something....

I stood there like that for what seemed like hours and then realized.....

PATHETIC. Simply pathetic. My reaction to missing Adam's performance was way more dramatic than my reaction to hearing that Andy lost his job or North Korea had launched a nuclear missile.

I'm still not sure I'm over it. Missing Adam that is....

child’s play

he tries to act tough…

he said he wouldn’t smile…

but then something was funny

really, really funny.

nothing like an old swing hangin’ from a tree in the front yard….

the same tree that serves as home base for a game of hide and seek…she counted 1, 2, 3, 4, 11, 15, 20….

“ready or not here I come!”

come with me.

Overheard Recently

William: "Hey Mama, when will I be snack mom again?"

Me: "Hmmm...hard to say...a few weeks maybe?" As if such a bizarre question begged a serious answer, much less one that required much of a thought process.

William: "Well, I certainly hope that when I'm snack mom again I bring Pizza Pie Puffs. 'Cause they are goo-oo-oo-d."

Me: "Good luck with that."

Looks even weirder to actually put it in print.....

The Boy With the Ugly Shoes

The kids had school pictures today. It was no surprise. They've only been sending notes home for weeks. They even put little stickers on their backs yesterday that said something like "Hey Mom and Dad - don't forget my pictures tomorrow!" Cute. Anyway....last night I picked out their outfits, we ironed everything and spent most of the morning rush hour getting bows in place, shirts tucked in and making sure the remnants of their pancake breakfast were nowhere to be seen on faces or clothes.

As I was running late and rushing to get out of the door, I told Andy to go put everyone in the car. I grabbed backpacks, my coffee and purse and ran outside to get in the van where my three looked so cute and charming in their sweet outfits.

I pulled up at school in the drop off line, opened the door and started herding them out, one by one. First Catherine, who looked so pretty in her smocked dress and English sandals. Then Stuart in his cute little jon jon and fisherman sandals. Then William, looking like such a big boy in his sweater vest, khaki pants and....

What the....

"WILLIAM! You have on CROCS?!?!?!?!"

Ugly plastic blue and orange Auburn crocs with a green frog jibit or jiblet or whatever the heck it's called stuck right in the front hole.

I looked at the teacher and with a calm sweet smile pleaded, "Please ask Mr. Mills not to photograph my child's feet. Mmmkay?"

I called Andy as I pulled away. "You won't believe this," I stated. "All the trouble we went to ironing clothes, making sure everyone looked cute for their pictures, and William gets out of the van with those nasty CROCS on! Can you believe that???"

"Um, yeah well, um, I guess I told him he could wear them."

{Blank stare}

I quickly concluded that in the grand scheme of everything we are dealing with at the moment, this was really not a big deal. Definitely not a mountain. Just a molehill.

An ugly molehill. But still.... a molehill.

Sigh.

Hey...Where Did That Rug Go?

You know how sometimes you can be sleeping and feel like you're falling off a cliff and then you wake up? And realize it's just a dream?

Ever had that feeling but realized you're really awake?

I'm going to try to keep this as light as possible since this is supposed to be a fun blog. I guess I haven't posted much lately because, well, I just haven't felt really funny. I'm trying...it's just that my sense of humor kind of got ripped out from under me along with the rug.

You know all those awful stories on the news about all those people who have lost their jobs? Well...we've become one of those people. Not both of us. Just one of us. Remember that movie "Mr. Mom"? We're sort of living it right now.

I shouldn't say we haven't laughed much lately because that would be a lie. Actually, we've laughed quite a bit. Some days just to keep from crying. Others because it's all a surreal humorous scene some mornings as I rush out the door to a meeting while pancakes are flying across the kitchen and Daddy's running interference.

The thing is.... some days I think he's doing a much better job at home than I ever felt like I did. He is patient. Very very patient. And fun. He told me the other night that he looks at this as a kind of gift....a rare and unexpected opportunity to spend time with the kids that he would have never had. He is truly amazing me through this whole horrible thing. And I just love him all the more for it.

My biggest struggle here is the not knowing. The wondering. And the uncertainty. The fear of the unknown. And the fear that we're down to one life line. But then again that's one more than so many people have right now.

I have a childhood friend who ends each of her blog entries with a "Thanking God for... " thought. So I'm going to borrow that from her.

Thanking God today for life lines, unexpected gifts, and each other.

Say what?

I was at spinning class the other morning.   After a self imposed several month hiatus from spinning (and the whole gym thing in general) I returned this past week to find the Golden Girls are still there.  And I'm convinced they are trying to sabotage my training.

In the middle of the class (this is an important point because it's at this stage that my legs are starting to feel like noodles) the instructor apparently decides to motivate us.  Here's what she does:

"Come on people!  Whew!  That's it.  Keep those legs going.  Don't stop!  Easy circles, now!  Whew!  Lookin' good!  Don't slow down!  Whew! Move those legs!  Imagine that you have poo on your foot and you're trying to scrape it off.  Move those feet!  Faster....keep moving....the poo is stuck!  It's stuck on your shoe!  You're trying to scrape it....it's on there good!  Scrape harder people!  You don't want poo on your foot!  It's fresh poo.  It stinks.  Bad!  And it's all over those shoes.  Keep scraping!  Whew!"  On and on it went.  For the entire six minutes of the song.

Are you freakin' kidding me?

The first time she said it I thought...did she just say poo?  Nah....but then, yes!  No kidding. 

I looked over at the Girls and I swear they were laughing at me.  Because I was so distracted by all the poo talk that I could barely peddle.  I just sat there...stationary.... with this look of confusion on my face. So they were beating me.  And they thought it was funny.

Then it hit me.  They put the instructor up to it.  I'm sure they did.

Saboteurs.

Does This Look LIke a Jerk To You?

So this morning I was getting everyone's breakfast in front of them and I put a banana on Stuart's tray, which he immediately tossed onto the floor. "No!" Mmmkay. Let's try juice. I set his juice down. It quickly followed the banana to the floor.

So I picked up the banana and the juice, set it on the table and decided to do my best to ignore the foul, offensive little person in the highchair.

Catherine walked by, saw Stuart's juice on the table and handed it to him. "Here you go Sewart," she said as she put it on the tray. "NO!!!" he yelled as he catapulted it once again to the floor.

"Catherine, that was nice of you but he's being a jerk. Leave him alone."

A jerk? Did I just call my 21-month-old a jerk? Surely she wasn't paying any attention.

About that time William walked in the room, saw the juice on the floor, picked it up and, as he was handing it to his brother, Catherine grabbed his arm and said, "No, Weeyum, don't... Sewart is being a JERK!"

Nice, Mom. Real nice.

I mean, really.