Soccer, Panhandling, Shopping and Partying; It's how I do Saturdays.

Soccer Season

As the carefree days of summer* are slipping away, soccer season is beginning again for my little guy.  *Sidenote: when I say "carefree days of summer", surely you realize I mean sweltering hot days of excessive humidity, excessive mosquito bites and excessive rain accompanied by weekends jam-packed with birthday parties.  The little guy didnt play spring soccer because I wanted him to give T-Ball a chance so he hasn’t played on a soccer team since last year.  We haven’t really practiced much at all either, aside from him kicking the ball around the yard a bit here and there.  I only hope things will be improved from last year.  If you don't recall or are not familiar, the first practice last year resulted in an epic meltdown, followed by a fever and strep throat...and me making a scene and embarassing myself after spilling my purse, getting the stroller stuck in dirt and turning my ankle.  Anyway, that is behind us now. 

This past Saturday was their 2nd game.  The first game was exciting because he’s made such improvements from last year!  He is no longer that kid that is oblivious to the game whilst running laps around the perimeter of the field and getting caught in the net like a fly in a spider web.  My daughter has made great improvements as well.  She actually sits in her little seat now as opposed to running off into the woods, the stream, onto the field, etc.  She’s a big 3 year old now so those 2 year old antics are a thing of the past.  (ha!  yea right - but for this particular day, she was good at the game.)

For this game I had to fly solo.  The husband was at work so I was on my own.  I’ll be honest, I was concerned but I knew I had been through worse so I was sure we would be ok.  We pull up to the soccer field and I’ve never ever seen it like this before.  You might have thought it was a World Cup Game.  Cars were parked all over the place.  People were driving the wrong way, stopping in the road, passing quickly around eachother and all on gravel while small children were walking through.  The parents weren't paying attention to the kids, the kids weren't paying attention to the cars and the drivers weren't paying attention to ANYONE.  All traffic rules and courtesies were out the window.  There wasn't a free spot to be found.  People were even parking on the main road outside of the complex.  It was nuts.  I fortunately found a vehicle about to pull out of a spot.  I stopped and put my blinker on as they loaded into their car.  There was a line of traffic behind me that felt like it stretched 40 miles.  Come on guy, can’t you pull out of the spot already?  Clearly you see what's going on out here.  Nope.  The wife now decides to get out of the car and walk away.  People behind me are whipping around me and almost mowing down entire families.  They’ve now formed a line of traffic that prevents anyone from ever pulling out of any spot.  Smart move, morons.  After waiting what felt like years for this guy to pull out, I gave up.  The wife must have just left him and remarried, because I never did see her come back.  Instead, I pulled into the spot next to him after that person left.

I get both kids out of the car and instruct them repeatedly not to move from the side of the car, because there are too many cars moving around.  Neither listens.  I get the boy, the girl, his soccer bag, his soccer ball, her purse, her bag of snacks, my chair, her chair and my purse.  Somehow I managed to get us all to the field without being run over and without dropping anything.  It was a magical moment. 

The game starts, the weather is glorious, and my little guy is doing great.  I’m so proud of him.  Best of all, he’s smiling from ear to ear the whole time.  My daughter stayed in her little seat, ate her snacks and didn’t give me a hard time.  I actually got to watch his game for the first time.  It was incredible. 

Anyone Home?

At about 10 minutes before 12:00 I get a phone call from my Step-Mom asking if we are home.  I told her we are at the soccer game, but it’s ending in a few minutes.  She said they wanted to stop by and drop off a birthday present for my son.  I said we should be home in about 20 minutes if they want to meet me at my house.  Now I know full well that we have to be at the local KMart by 1pm so my son can panhandle - oops, I mean do “Tag Day” for the soccer team, but I also know that them stopping by usually only runs me about 15 minutes max.  

Itinerary for Every Time my Dad and Step-Mom Stop By:

• they pull into the driveway just as I’m setting foot in the shower, getting changed, mixing ground meat with my bare hands, paining the den, etc.
• honk the horn
•  wait 4 seconds
• honk the horn again aggressively (this is all my dad)
• if everyone doesn’t burst out of the house immediately, start shouting and continue honking
• the kids start trickling out of the house usually barefoot or unclothed and someone trips, pinches a finger in the door, falls down the steps, fights with the other, or takes off running oblivious to the fact that anyone is in the driveway waiting to say hello
• I finally emerge and herd the kids back inside to get dressed or shoes on while I chat for a bit
• the kids come back out, climb in the car and all over their grandparents
• they let the kids honk the horn 30-40 times
• I say i got to get back inside at the same time that my dad says he has to get going
• we all go back in the house
• the kids run back out of the house while i yell for them to get back in
• they drive away.

Again, this whole process takes about 15 minutes start to finish, so if they meet me at my house in 20, I’ll make if for Tag Day no problem.  KMart is only 5 minutes away.

The game ends and I start to pack up.  Somehow, I can’t seem to hold all of the same stuff I had just carried onto the field but an hour earlier.  The chair is sliding from under my arm, I drop my phone and I just cant get it together.  I can’t hold either child’s hand because my hands are full and they cant hold on to me because they each have a juice box and a bag of pretzels.  I struggle to the car, kicking things the last 10 feet only to realize we forgot his soccer ball.  I load everything in and go back to the field.  Luckily, we found it with ease.  Back through the parking lot for the 4th time today and we load up and head out.  I’m trying to hurry now because I’ve lost so much time and I thought my dad would be in my driveway having a fit by this time.

Something's Fishy 

I pull up to my house and they aren’t there.  Let me call her cell back and see if they are on their way.  My father answers and the tone of his voice alone tells me he is in one of his moods.  The conversation went like this:

Him: HELLO!!?!
Me: Dad?  What’s wrong?
Him: NOTHING!
Me: Okay..um are you on your way here right now?
Him: I’M WAITING FOR JOANNE!
Me: Alright...well do you want to just stop by in a little while then?  Lorenzo has Tag Day Today at KMart and-(interrupted)
Him: I GUESS THE F**KING FISH WILL JUST DIE THEN!!!!  <click>
Me: *dumbfounded* 

Just like you, I had no CLUE what in the world that was supposed to mean.  I called back but now there’s no answer.  Alright, well clearly something is going on and I dont know what it is and I dont want to know right now because I am just going to head over to KMart and be somewhere early for once.

As I exit the neighborhood, my cell phone rings.  It’s my step-mom’s phone.  Should I even answer?  I debated and then answered anyway.  It was Joanne this time.  She sweetly says “Are you home?”  So I reply as nicely as I can, doing my very best to hide my frustration.  She doesn’t need any flack from me as I’m sure she has no idea what just transpired and the poor soul has to deal with him in that mood as it is.  I said “I just drove out of the neighborhood...what the heck is going on?  Dad just cursed something about fish and hung up on me.  I have no clue what’s happening right now and he has tag day at 1pm..”.  She apologetically said “Would you mind coming back?  We will only be 5 minutes.”  How could I say no?  I feel bad for her to have to deal with that mess today.  I turn the car around and go back home.  A few minutes later, my dad comes zooming up.  You might think he had a caravan of police chasing him down the way he whipped around the corner.  “What’s his problem?” I ask my clearly frazzled step-mom as she attempts to take things from the back seat of the car.  Her response is funny yet, totally accurate for the moment: “He’s an a**hole”.  Speaking of a**holes, here comes my friend the police officer.  He pulls up right behind my father (in his personal vehicle - there really was no police chase).  This seems to infuriate my dad and he shouts “WATCH OUT I HAVE TO PULL THE F**K UP NOW!” and guns it 15 feet while the back door is still open from poor Joanne still trying to get things out.  For the record, there’s no reason whatsoever that he would have had to pull up - it was just the bad mood talking.

The reason for all the hurry and “fish” talk is because for my son’s birthday, they bought him a fish tank with live fish.  He was delighted.  But now we have to run so the bag of fish have to be left home with the cats.  Hopefully they survive.  I bid a friendly farewell to all the friends and family that gathered on my lawn and hoped they weren’t offended that I had to leave so abruptly.

Panhandling

Off to KMart and the Tag Day portion of the trip was mildly successful.  We still managed to arrive on time, but the kids insisted on riding the coin operated ride out front first.  It was the longest ride in the history of rides.  Even the Disabled Vets (that they pit us against for collecting) commented on how long the ride was taking. 

Now that the hour has passed and they’ve gotten junk from the vending machines, climbed under benches and behind signs and have run out of the tiny amount of self-control they have, I have to go inside to shop for a couple things.  This turned into a 2 hour ordeal.

Of course my daughter had to pee, because that’s what she does EVERY SINGLE TIME WE EVER LEAVE THE HOUSE EVER.  They are both hungry and ornery and I am too.  After taking MUCH too long to pick up a few items and chasing them both in opposite directions, we finally make it to the register.  I have a talent of picking the slowest line 10 times out of 10.  This time the lady 3 people in front of me had a thousand questions, then there was a problem with her card, then the register broke and we were advised to disperse to other lines. 

By this time, my daughter who has had the hiccups for 10 minutes has progressed to dry heaving and crying that her belly hurts.  I see customer service doesn't seem to have a crowd for once so I ask if they could ring me up there since I’m afraid my daughter is going to be sick.  The lady says yes, come around this way and before I make it to the other side of the counter, some old lady has waddled over and now says “I was here first”. 

She only had a few items so I hoped she would be in and out.  NOPE.  She purchased something large and now she needed the guy from the stock room to not only go get it for her, but also go out to her car and check to see that it would fit.  Meanwhile, I’m holding my daughter with my hand covering her mouth while she cries “MY BELLY HURTS!!” and while my son crawls away on the floor under the line of shopping carts.

The other lady at the service desk says “I’ll take you over this side”.  My daughter is still moaning and now sliding down my side as I’m calling my son and trying to push the cart with my elbows.  I get to the other side of the service desk and she says “This is a return, right?” I said NO and she said “Oh I can’t help you then”.   I wanted to cry.  Back to the other side and a long line has formed, but I’m going right back to where I was initially.  Somebody just try and say something about it.  The old lady is now attempting to pay but I guess she doesn’t know how to work a credit card and needs help from the cashier.  Twenty-five minutes after her initial proclamation of being there first, the old lady FINALLY is moving along.  It’s my turn and I can’t get out of here fast enough.  The lady rings up my first item.  Then the phone rings and she answers it and stops ringing me up.  She spends the next 2 minutes on the phone helping that customer, transferring the call and who knows what else.  She rings up my second item.  The phone rings again and the same procedure repeats itself 4 times in a row.  I’m going to lose it. 

The Great Escape 

I finally get out of there and the disabled vets are shocked to see me.  “You’re still here!?”  Yup.  Over two hours later and I’m still here.  I dig through my purse to give them a donation while the kids grab everything on their table.  They love it and say they can have whatever they want.  However, I don’t particularly want them to have flags on toothpicks because I know my kids and someone will be bleeding or lose an eye in under a minute.  They’re too young for gum so I sell them on the blue flower.  This took convincing because they BOTH decided that after the flag and the gum, they would each rather have the rocks that they’ve taken off the table that the Vets were using to hold down the papers from the wind. 

I’m beat.  I made it home by 3:30 and we have a birthday party at 3.  We should really just go straight there, but these fish have been on the counter in a bag for pushing 3 hours now.  We will have to set up the fish tank first. 

We get to the party nearly 2 hours late but had a great time there.  I love my cousin and her family.  Always a good time and the kids talked for hours about how much fun they had.  All’s well that ends well is what they say, right?

Leisurely Strolls have been Forbidden in this House

You might have caught on to a trend around here.  Anything in my life, no matter how simple or innocent it should be, always finds a way to become a huge spectacle.  That's why I try my best to find casual, relaxing things to do with the kids to escape the high pressure environment everyday life is otherwise.

A nice way to get some exercise and fresh air is to take a nice walk around the neighborhood.  Now that the weather is warmer, its something I really want to do every night and the kids even want to as well.  Not often we all agree on something so when we do, I'm going for it.  I've been using my "Sit N' Stand" stroller so I can blast down the sidewalk as quickly as I like and the kids just go for the ride.

*This is not me, those are not my children and 

we don't have a backdrop like this anywhere in our lives.  

AKA I don't know these fools.

For the most part, this has worked well for all except when the dog gets mad that we've left him behind and then jumps the fence to catch up with us.  I won't even get into what is involved in trying to corrale a dog who is hard of hearing back into the yard while there are squirrels and people and other dogs all around to distract him.

Since I've been babysitting my infant niece some nights, the new arrangement was that my daughter's spot in the front would be replaced with the baby's car seat (as shown in the inset of the above photo).  As a result, my daughter then had to move to the "standing" section of the stroller, while my 5 year old has to walk.  The 5 year old is fine with this.  I'm fine with this.  The baby doesn't even know anything about anything anyway and my daughter, well, she's not so sure she likes this.  She's been having some major jealousy of the new baby as it is, so since the baby took her spot - even though she always wanted to stand in the back where her brother was anyway - it's now become a major issue for her.  She would rather just walk than have to sit or stand in the back.  It's just a matter of principle for her I'm sure.  She only wanted to be back there when she wasn't allowed.  Now that the baby "stole her seat" she is staging a protest about everything involving the stroller and the struggle and argument usually carries on throughout the entire duration of our walk.  It's really annoying.

That's when I had it easy. For whatever reason, we've left the Sit N' Stand out in the elements for a couple weeks.  Because of my intense fear of spiders, I'm now convinced that I can never touch that thing again.  When I want to go for a walk now, I ask my sister to leave her stroller with me.  

The good news about our first walk with the baby's stroller is that it's a really nice stroller that handles beautifully and it's all new and clean.  The baby managed to have a nice nap and the weather was just perfect.  The bad news was just about everything else that happened.  

Walking with the baby in her own stroller has played host to a whole new set of problems.  Now both kids have to walk.  I asked my husband to come along for the walk this time thinking it would be nice for us all to do something together.  (no clue where my teenager could have been through any of this BTW)  

ANYHOW, here we go down the road and my son is out in the front pretending he is a car and bouncing over the bumps of the sidewalk like he's got the suspension of a Cadillac.  He looks downright insane doing it, but he seems to enjoy it so we let him*.  (*by this I mean we totally give up telling him to walk right.)  

I'm pushing the stroller and my daughter running full speed. She's totally ignoring us as we both call for her to stop before she falls.  After telling her 597 times in 8 seconds to stop running, she fell and skinned her knee.  Here come the screams.  

I may have mentioned before that my daughter's cry is like no other.  He "normal cry" is the loudest most piercing, shrill screams you will ever hear in your life.  Anything from a dropped cookie to a severed toe conjures up the same deafening symphony of screams.  It's really unbelievable.  Needless to say, no matter where we are, if she starts crying, people from everywhere are staring at us wondering what horrible thing we did to this child to make her scream in such a way that makes your blood run cold. 

Her not listening and now screaming drives my husband to start yelling at her.  "We told you this was going to happen but you don't listen!!".  His yelling at her makes me get upset with him because to me "she's just a baby" and needs her boo-boos kissed.  He picks her up and carries her for the next few feet trying to get her to stop screaming, while he continues to yell at her.  Because all of this isn't enough of a scene, now I chime in and start whisper screaming at him to please stop yelling at her because it's embarrassing.  Meanwhile, my son who has grown immune to this sort of thing has happily run so far a head that he doesn't hear me calling for him to come back.  Now I have to start yelling for him to even hear me, while my daughter is still screaming her lungs out. My husband is now yelling "That's it! NO MORE WALKS EVER AGAIN!", to which I respond with more whisper-screaming to "please shut up".  We are both at our witt's end and look like raving lunatics and we've only been walking for 5 minutes and are only 4 or 5 houses down from our own.

I told her she needs to stay close to Daddy now.  This puts her behind me but infront of him and apparently the fall taught her nothing because she's running again.  I'm trying my best to look in front of me at the boy and behind me at my daughter at the same time while not crashing the stroller or running over other pedestrians.   

I told them since they aren't listening, they now both have to hold onto the stroller.  That lasted a full 30 seconds before the fighting started.  My daughter, being the little peanut she is, is trying her best to reach the stroller rail to hold on.  It didn't help that my son decided at that moment to imagine the stroller is now a race car.  She did her best to hang on while her tiny legs struggled to keep up with the speed.  Next they start a full-blown battle over who gets control of the steering.  They argue and scream as each of them is shoving the stroller, making it maneuver wildly.  Her little legs are again flailing as she tries to keep pace with the stroller's rapid and violent jerks as the three of us tussle over control.  

Some more yelling on my part and now they are both mad at eachother and me.  My husband has since given up on all of this and is 200 feet behind us playing on his phone and blissfully unaware of it all.  My son opts to walk ahead again and so my daughter takes this opportunty to once again claim ownership of stroller steering.  This time she is walking under me and pushing it by the cargo basket below with all of her might.  This makes me have to walk with my arms fully extended infront of me and bent over at the waist so I don't trample her.  She feels me resisting so I'm not speeding with the baby and this infuriates her.  She demands that I stop touching the stroller altogether.  That's not going to happen so "kindly" tell her it's enough already and I'm the only one allowed to push the stroller.  She is NOT happy. 

Next, she decides to run ahead of us and my son decides to drop back.  Since she won't listen to me when I tell her to stop running, I thought a good idea might be to make a game of "red light, green light" so I could get her to stop before the driveways when I yell red light.  Great idea right!?  I was proud of myself for coming up with that one on the fly.  It worked too!!  For like, 8 seconds until my son decided to start barking out all the wrong commands at all the wrong times.  He wouldn't stop even though I told him over and over that I was the only one allowed to make the calls. While we battle that out, my daughter is still running ahead and my husband is still miles behind.  

We pass a friends house and get a few minute reprieve from the non-stop drama while the kids played and we chatted.  A few friendly exchanges and a 5 minute battle with the kids to move along and we are on our way again.  Ahead, I see a man gardening with his lawnmower parked partially blocking the sidewalk.  My son is running ahead and talking relentlessly while not looking where he's going.  I'm yelling to him to watch out, but he doesn't hear me because he's still rambling on about something and getting increasingly irritated that I'm not listening to HIM!  Just at the last second he looks up and narrowly misses hitting his face on the lawnmower handles.  As my daughter and husband approach behind me, my son runs ahead toward the corner so I had to chose to tell him to stop before I could yell back to them to watch out for the lawnmower.  Sure enough <<BONG!>> she crashes right into it and starts screaming yet again.  Then she continues on to yell at the homeowner for leaving his lawnmower "in her way" on the sidewalk while SHE'S trying to walk there!!  Did I mention she's only 3??  

After surviving that, the next disaster in the making appears.  Theres a woman with a new puppy.  He's so cute and the kids want to pet him so bad, but the problem is that the woman is clearly insane and the puppy is deathly afraid of people.  As the woman is literally dragging the puppy towards the kids, you can see the whites of its eyes while it flails around wildly on the end of his leash.  The poor puppy then starts yelping and howling and the kids just plain ignore me as I keep saying "lets just go, the puppy is scared".  They want to run towards him and only terrify him more!  The woman is unrelenting in her efforts to have the kids pet him and at this point the poor little guy looked more like a kite on a short string on a windy day.  I finally got the kids to keep it moving when my daughter spots a bunny and chases after it onto someone's lawn.  As she's running around and around their tree, my son is up ahead trying to pick flowers out of someone's garden.  We make it around the corner when my daughter falls again and skins her knee.  Her usual screams are coupled with panic when she sees the blood.  She's now added "IT'S BLEEDING!" into her chorus of cries.   Not two minutes later it's my son's turn to fall.  He triped over the sidewalk and landed face down on the cement - and stayed laying there, face to the pavement while he wailed.  This of course had to happen right in someone's driveway at the very moment they happen to pull up and want to go in.  With one hand I'm pushing the stroller and with the other I'm trying to help him off the ground.  My husband is walking behind me carrying my daughter who is still screaming.  The man pulling into his driveway rolls down the window to see that everything is alright.  We assure him we are all fine even though both kids are bleeding and screaming at the top of their lungs.  Then I see the crazy lady with the puppy dragging her puppy straight for us again.  That was enough for me.  We turned off and headed home.  

Two skinned knees, two skinned hands, a bloody finger and a lump on the head and we are finally home from our "nice relaxing walk".  I think next time I'll just take the Sit N' Stand.  Spiders can't be as bad as that whole spectacle.  Or better yet, maybe I'll just go alone.  Maybe my husband was onto something when he forbade us from ever taking walks as a family again.

I Have a Drinking Problem...

I have a drinking problem.  The first step is admitting it right?  Well I fully admit it.  In fact, I've always had a drinking problem.  Even when I was a kid.  What's more disturbing is that all of my 3 young children seem to have drinking problems too.

Now it's not what you think.  ...Although truth be told, if you ask the right person...well you know what, let's not go there.  My problem is less about abusing the Nectar of the Gods and more about my inability to control and/or contain liquids in my possession.  This really could extend to solids as well if I think about it.  I'm just a clutz, there's no two ways about it.

As a "lady" (alright, settle down with the laughter) I would like to think of myself as classy and graceful.  Unfortunately for me, those are two things that I certainly am NOT.  Try as I might, there are forces, forces far beyond my control; cosmic forces if you will, that make it virtually impossible for me to not drop, spill, trip, break or mangle things.  This cosmic force only grows stronger with my awareness of its existence.  It's further amplified when there is more at stake, such as if there are expensive electronics nearby or if someone is looking at me (or if I'm at work or home or absolutely anywhere in the world at any time).

If I go about my life and am distracted enough to not pay attention to what I'm doing, as odd as it may seem, it actually is better.  It's when I am paying attention that things go haywire.  For instance, if I'm at work and carrying a hot coffee, as long as I'm engaged in conversation I might actually make it back to my desk without incident.  On the contrary, if I so much as even look at the coffee, remember that I have it or otherwise let the thought "don't spill it" enter my mind for a split-second, it's over.  My hand immediately begins shaking.  My walking seems to change to some crazy kind of "jump-stomp-running" - and that's not even a real thing, but the way the coffee starts splashing about, you would think it was!  Now maybe it's not so odd to merely have an unsteady hand with a hot cup of coffee.  Surely we've all been there.  But there's more.

If I'm in a car and attempt to take a sip out of a bottle of anything, it's as if the car knows and will hit a bump, jerk or accelerate in some fashion that results in much of my beverage going up my nose and down my shirt.  Yes, I'm in a moving vehicle at the time and sure, that might make it seem like a not-so-strange phenomenon but then answer me this....why then is it that if I am sitting completely still, on solid ground, the very same thing will happen?  Surely the Earth hasn't rapidly accelerated the very moment I attempted to wet my whistle.  Yet it happens.  And it happens a lot.  I'll say the odds are close to 70/30 in favor of spillage, choking or up the nose at any given time.  At least two or three times a week, iced tea finds its way into my  face via other avenues than my mouth.  The times it finds its way into my blouse is more than double that.  Thankfully, in the case of "down the wrong pipe" it's less frequent at maybe once or twice a week.

Now that you are familiar with my inability to carry and consume beverages, I'll let you in on a little secret.  ...I can't have anything near me either - not even if it's carefully and firmly placed on a flat level surface.  It will somehow manage to tip over, even if I'm not anywhere near it.  It's true.  And when it spills, you bet your sweet ass it's going to go everywhere.  Even if there's only one ounce spilling, it will rapidly expand to create widespread destruction.  You think I'm kidding don't you?  Well, I'm not.  There's no scientific explanation, but I can name quite a few witnesses who can attest to this fact.  Should I be lucky enough to not have the spill cover everything in a 15 foot radius, then I guarantee you whatever does get hit, is going to be the worst possible thing.  Whatever can NOT get wet or destroyed will absolutely take the brunt.  100% of the time.

But this is my life.  I expect nothing else.  I inherited this from my mother and all three of my kids inherited it as well.  And while my husband cannot conceive of how these things are even possible, he still sees it happen.  He sees it happen and he flips his lid.  I, on the other hand, see it coming a mile away and just prepare myself.  Yea, I flip out about it from time to time too, but I'm so used to it that I usually can handle it.  Years of experience has taught me though that no good EVER comes from saying to the kids "whatever you do, DON'T spill it."  I might as well just go right over and slap it right out of their hands, because saying "don't spill it" is a damn-near guarantee that it's going down.  So I stopped saying that and started buying more paper towels.  What else can I really do?

So if you see me coming your way with a hot cup of coffee, an unopened bottle of water or even an overturned thimble with a single rain drop in it, run.  Run far and run fast and take anything you hold valuable with you, because I promise you no matter how unlikely I will find a way to accidentally destroy it.  You won't believe your eyes, but the destruction will speak for itself.

First Stab at Family Dinner

Well I went for it.  Recently, some of the family brought over a delicious lentil soup, a fresh salad and a cake so bursting with sugary treats and confections that it looked like an edible version of the board game “Candyland”.  Note to self: grandparents are no longer allowed to be in charge of my kids’ desserts.  As if all that wasn't enough, my husband made a tomato pie that you could just die for.  

While we ate, it was much of the same as any dinner with the family.  There was someone complaining about the salad dressing and whether or not it should be applied to all the salad in the bowl or just individual servings.  Someone was asking why it was so HOT in here.  Unsolicited questions and comments were flying from every direction: “what do we have spoons out for?”  “can you get me a knife that actually CUTS?”  “who serves soup in this kind of bowl?”  Meanwhile the moms were serving everyone while the kids were adding to the confusion in the air with their relentless demands.  This one needs this, that one needs that, the other needs more and they all don’t like something that they have been given.  I expected my five year old to protest the lentil soup and he did...”Mom, this is beans.  I don’t like beans”.  (The way he says “I don’t like beans” is in the exact same sound that Joe Pesci says “I don’t see no stars” in My Cousin Vinny.)  A simple explanation that they were actually just brown peas, accompanied by a reminder that he likes peas did seem to help a bit.  Then there was the obligatory dispute over who “deserves” the last seat at the table..

”Please, sit, I insist”

“Oh no, you can sit! I sit all day! Please”

“I just couldn't you’re a guest in my home, you simply must”

“Oh, stop, I’m FINE standing! Really!” 

“No, you made the salad, I can’t possibly”

“But you were kind enough to have us over.”

This went on long enough that one of the kids had long since taken over that last seat anyway.  At least that intolerable exchange of pleasantries was finally put to rest.  Felt like it lasted hours. 

The kids hardly ate a bite because they knew that my diabetic father had provided the cake of all cakes.  They were practically having the shakes just thinking about it.  Can’t wait to add sugar to them just before bed on a Sunday!  Out came the cake.  The way the kids eyes bulged out, I’m thinking they were seeing this all in slow motion and hearing Angels sing while the light of God shone down from Heaven and cast an angelic glow upon this treat.  I almost wished I had tripped and dropped it just so I could hear my own delusional “record scratch” sound as their little dream shattered.  Ok, I guess that’s mean.  I’ll take that back...kind of.  I still think it would have been pretty funny.

After dinner the women split from the men and children...totally unintentional, I swear.  I could hear the kids upstairs laughing their little hearts out.  It made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside.  That is, until I heard my father making a weird “I just got the wind knocked out of me” kind of sound.  Come to find out, my father was flat on his back on the living room floor (still not clear on how that came to be) and the kids were jumping on his belly like he was a bouncy house.  Then the warm and fuzzy feeling came back again.  When we were kids we used to do the same thing to him.  Granted, when my kids knock the wind out of him, he makes funny faces and they laugh harder.  When we used to do it, our lives would be threatened and tools would be thrown at our faces.

All in all, the test run went well!  I’m definitely going to try it again with other branches of the family.  No one got into a fight, there was hardly any lentil soup on the floor, the food was delicious and as far as I know, we are all still on speaking terms!  Plus, for probably the first time ever, nothing spilled.  The only issue was that the dog stole at least one slice of tomato pie.  The Jerk.  But if that was the worst of it, I’ll take it!

Resurrecting the Family Dinner

I’m a strong believer in the family unit. I think it instills a sense of community, safety and identity in children, and is just a nice way for us all to bond. A great way to reinforce this is to carry on the tradition of Sunday dinners with the family. I love a nice gathering of everyone on Sunday over a nice, big, fat, heavy meal of appetizers and salad and pasta and meat and bread followed by an unnecessarily decadent dessert, a swig or two of some after dinner liquor and then the completely uncalled for cup of coffee. ...The coffee that you have to offer because it’s tradition and is just good manners. The coffee that you really shouldn't be drinking because it’s a Sunday night and it’s already gotten late. The coffee that will do nothing to give you the energy to clean up that huge dinner party mess, but will keep your eyes sprung open the minute you finally make it to your bed hours past your bed time. The coffee that, against their better judgment everyone will accept even though at this point, part of you wishes that they would just start packing up - no matter how much you love them and enjoy their company.

Today it’s much harder to accomplish this gathering every weekend the way it was generations before. For my family and many others, it used to be that most of the family lived on the same street - or at least within a block or two of one another. Everyone could bring something and just walk down. No one had excuses or obligations that held them back. No one needed a ride or were worried about the drive home. No one said they didn't have the money this week. With much more meager means than we are used to, they could still feed a brood 30 deep and keep it coming like they were running a restaurant! And since the women generally stayed home and cared for the house and kids, they weren't overly concerned with the fact that it was a Sunday at all. The men surely didn't care because they were getting their faces fed, and waited on hand-and-foot.  No one cared about not having enough room in the house either. Have you seen the size of most living rooms in Trenton? They used to pack them in like there like a prize was being offered for the house that held the most without any windows accidentally busting out from the pressure. People had tons of kids. Tons of them. I have 3, and by today’s standards that’s kind of on the high side. They were all so close, and here I am not even sure of how many cousins we have, and for sure my kids don’t even know a fraction of them. I think I’m much to blame, as is the generation before me. The family unit thing has slacked off quite a bit in the last generation.

Not allowing modern times to trample on family values, it’s been decided that we will be resurrecting this tradition on a more regular basis; i.e. more frequently than 2 weekends in a row followed by a 7 year hiatus. It’s going to be tricky. No one lives down the street any more. Everyone works. People are divorced. There are step-parents and step-kids and split branches everywhere on this family tree. Everyone has a short temper. This one doesn't talk to that one, and if you talk to “that one” then that surely means you’re on “that one’s” side so now you have to deal with “this one”. Thinking about it, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all - but I’ll be doing it anyway. Trust when I tell you, I rarely shy away from potentially disastrous plans. I always expect the best of everyone; high lofty hopes that THIS time everyone will just get along. I don’t know if that’s ever happened, but the odds say it’s bound to happen at least once. Wish me luck!

Hamilton, NJ: The Stevie B Capitol of the World (outside of Miami of course)

What the hell happened to this town Saturday night?  I'll tell you what happened, Stevie B came around and we all went bananas.  If you didn't already know, Local DJ John Rossi put together a show with Stevie B and Peter Fontaine at the Hamilton Manor in Yardville.  My friends and I went and we had a blast.  So much fun that we almost missed the part where Stevie B was performing.  Good times.

Weeks ago...actually months ago the announcement came through on Facebook that Stevie B would be performing in our own Hamilton and a mere mile from my house at that.  I was excited.  My friends were excited.  We were all abuzz talking about how much fun this will be and we should get this one to go, and tell that one about it....it was a big deal right from the start.  I mean, it was Stevie B after all and practically in our own back yards.  I was going to invite everyone and it was going to be awesome.

Much to my shock and horror, I began to realize that some people were...my gosh I can barely say this...some people were not familiar with Stevie B.  I know, I know, calm down.  I was shocked too.  My immediate reaction was to call that person names and demand they show some respect and culture themselves.  OK, so this guy was a couple years younger.. but still, a couple years younger should still know.  Then I came to realize as I spread the word to other non-locals that perhaps it was a matter of location.  Something about Stevie B gripped this area in the late 80s and early 90s in a way that I suppose didn't affect outlying areas quite as strongly.  I just don't get it.

I can't imagine going through life without the words "Spring Love" having a profound meaning and being associated with boat loads of memories.  I wouldn't want to live in a world without the Postman Song.  And to think that some people hear the words "In Your Eyes" and think I could be talking about the sun.  Excuse me for a moment as I bite my fist in heartbreak.

Let me attempt to school you for a minute if you won't mind.  Stevie B is the purported King of Freestyle. (And if you say "what's freestyle?" please just punch your own self in the face and save me the trouble.)  According to Wikipedia, his influence was most notably in the Miami area.  I was not even aware of that.  As far as I knew, the whole world knew and loved him.  I think I'm going to go make an edit to Wiki entry so that it reads to include the Trenton area as the other area influenced by this legend.  Seems odd that it was just us and Miami that embraced him, but that's the facts as I know them.  Wiki doesn't lie.

If you are one of these people that missed out on it, then it's too late.  You definitely already missed out.  If you Google it now and watch videos, no doubt you will piss your pants laughing and it will only further your disconnect to the whole thing.  It wasn't just about Stevie B, the man or the music.  It was about a time.  A feeling.  Something that's gone now and couldn't be recreated or understood by watching a grainy YouTube video of a dude with "Soul Glow" in his hair and mustache that today could only be rocked by the produce guy in a Spanish bodega.  (all due respect to produce guys and Spanish bodegas)

Good God, Don't Get Yourself the Flu

No one likes getting shots.  That is not a shocking revelation in the slightest, but it is something that I feel the need to bring to light for the moment.  Back in late fall when everyone was getting their flu shots, I was strutting through life thinking we didn't really need them.  After all, why go through the pain of making the kids get shots when there is no big swine flu fear swirling around like there was a couple years ago and no major media hype about how bad the flu is this year.  Perhaps the most convincing bit of fact is that the flu has been around forever, we've never regularly gotten the flu shot and we've always been just fine.  Not to mention the scary things you read and hear about these days in regards to kids getting shots.  This one became paralyzed  that one slipped into a coma and another one thinks she's a horse now.  No thanks, I'll pass.  I don't want horse-children.

Just when I had written the whole thing off, little by little I start hearing of people all around me getting the flu.  It started with just someone I know knows someone who has it and then in no time at all I knew of at least 3 individuals and families first hand that have it.  It got me to thinking that maybe for the children's sake at least, I should look into some flu shots.  I didn't think it would be a huge deal.  I'll make an appointment with their pediatrician and bring them in and the worst part will be that they'll cry when it happens.  Maybe I'll get my flu shot in front of them so they see me take it like a champ and it won't be so bad for them.  As for my husband, well he won't get a flu shot no matter what.

In preparation for all the flu shots, I let my job know I would be leaving work early on Friday to get it all taken care of.  I figured we all might have some sore arms and maybe a little fatigue so we will have the rest of Friday afternoon and all day Saturday to get back up to par.  I called the pediatrician to set up the appointments and was surprised to find that she's all out of flu shots and will not be getting any more in.  What I can do is go to the office, pick up a written prescription, bring it to a local pharmacy, get the flu shots filled there, bring them back to the office and have the doctor administer them to the kids.  Not exactly convenient, but I'll do it.  I was advised to just check with the pharmacy the day of to be sure they still have a supply, because many pharmacies have been running out.  I called and they confirmed they do have a supply, and it would "only" cost $15 per vaccine to have it filled.  I have three kids.  That's $45 right there.  Then we have to go back to the doctor's office and pay for our co-pays too?  That's another $20 each!  We are up to $105 now.  I don't have $105.  I don't even have $5 really.

As with everything, I turned to Facebook for help.  I found that I could go to several local pharmacies for free flu shots.  The only problem is that they really only administer them for adults.  I called all over town and no one had them for kids.  This was becoming a disaster.  Friends told me to try their doctors and I did, and they DID have the vaccines.  Plenty of them.  But I wasn't allowed to have any because we aren't patients there.  They didn't care that my doctor didn't have any.  I finally found ONE pharmacy that had children's doses, but it was about 30 minutes from my house.  Good thing I decided to leave work early.  As I left work I decided since I didn't have to run back and forth between the pharmacy and the pediatrician's office like I had originally expected to do, I may as well take this extra bit of time I have to get my long overdue oil change.  The "express service" ended up taking over an hour.  Just my luck.  By the time I got home, there was only a half hour of school left for my little guy so I just let him finish out the day instead of take him out early like I had planned.  By the time I picked him up from school, got everyone organized and fed a snack, it was after 4pm.  I may as well wait for my husband to get home now - it's only another 25 minutes.  Maybe I'll even guilt him into getting his flu shot too seeing as how the kids had to have it done.

By 4:30 we were finally on the road and headed to the flu shot clinic.  We called to be sure they still have flu shots available and they did.  Good news.  It was now getting dark, freezing cold and pouring rain.  I had not factored in one major setback; traffic.  I didn't realize there would be so much traffic so early and headed in this direction.  It was horrendous.  What would have been a 30 minute drive turned into an hour in wretched weather, traffic and with a car full of complaining children.  Neither I nor my husband were totally familiar with the area, so I tasked my husband to following the map on my iPhone and let me know exactly when I should turn.  It doesn't help that I have terrible night vision - and that he has terrible iPhone vision I suppose because he didn't tell me where to turn until after I passed it.  It went a little something like this...

Me: babe I can't drive and look at my phone at the same time, follow that little dot and tell me when it gets near the turn so I know when to get into the turn lane and turn.
Him: ok
Me: Um, I can't see anything is this our turn?
[long pause]
[pass the intersection]
Him: I don't know, I think that was it back there.
Me: well did the little dot go over the turn??
Him: what dot!?
Me: THE DOT I TOLD YOU TO WATCH AND TELL ME WHEN TO TURN!!!
Him: I don't know, I don't know how to read this stupid thing
Me: just forget it.  Give it to me.  Can you see that sign?  I'll turn here.
Him: no you can't turn there.
[pass the intersection]
Me: what do you mean I can't turn there, everyone else just turned there!
Him: I don't know!!! It looked like you can't turn there!!!  
Me: ok just help me figure out how to turn around!!
[4 miles out of our way we finally pull into a shopping center and swing around]
Me: please, I can't even see the lines on the road from all this rain, please pay close attention and just tell me where to turn
Him: I DON'T KNOW WHERE TO TURN!
Me: WE JUST CAME THIS WAY!!  HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW!?  I'm just going to turn here.
Him: You can't turn here
[pass intersection where we absolutely could have turned there]
Me: this is ridiculous
Him: YEA I KNOW
Me: NEXT TIME YOU F**KIN DRIVE!!
Him: whatever

After 20 minutes of essentially driving up and down the street cursing at each other, we finally turn into the correct shopping center with the Pharmacy.  We were both miserable and the kids were sleeping.  We had to drag them out of their comfy warm car seats in the cold and the rain and carry them in to get their shots.  So glad this whole ordeal is just about over!!

As we walk up to the clinic frazzled, soaked and lugging sleepy children on our shoulders, a nice nurse came out snapping off her rubber gloves.  She ever so sweetly said "I'm sorry, we JUST ran out of vaccines."  Every fiber of my being wanted to punch her right in the face.  Fighting tears I said "but we just drove over an hour in traffic and in the pouring rain!!!"  as if this would somehow make more flu vaccines appear.  Defeated, upset and frustrated we turned and retreated from the store without any protection from the flu.

It's amazing how I went from not thinking we needed the vaccine to being convinced we should get it and then suddenly on an impossible mission to get them!  I was so upset about the whole thing that I didn't even want to talk for the rest of the drive home...which took well over an hour since we were now stuck in rush hour traffic going the opposite direction and not moving at all.  My only hope now is that we are just lucky enough to not get flu as we have managed to pull off in many years past.

Except that THIS one year, we wouldn't be so lucky....

...to be continued.

Thanksgiving, My Way

Every year I host Thanksgiving.  Every year there is at least one point in the day that I teeter on the brink of insanity and proclaim that I will never ever do this again.  This year was no exception.

This year's crowd was to be a small one.  My mom, step-dad, brother and uncle would be joining my family of five for the main feast and then I was expecting appearances by a few other family and friends through out the course of the day.  I was really looking forward to a great day and I'm happy to report that for the most part, my expectations were met.  But as I'm sure you know, nothing every just happens for me without some sort of issues.

For quite a few years, I have been trying hard to shatter my image of always being a day late and a dollar short. I think because of this image (that I consistently reinforce, never by any fault of my own of course) that people believe that I just don't try hard enough or don't care enough.  This couldn't be further from the truth.  If anyone could just walk in my shoes for one day, they would learn that random and ridiculous things happen routinely that derail even my best laid plans.  In this case, one of the first derailments was that my paycheck refused to come early.  Sure payday is Friday, but Thanksgiving is THURSDAY.  I held off shopping because I was praying my pay would come on Wednesday for no reason whatsoever.  I think maybe this happened in years past so I was really expecting it again.  Maybe I remembered incorrectly because for darn sure it didn't happen this year.  Thank goodness I got worried enough to break down and buy all the food on my credit card Tuesday night.

At 9pm after a busy morning rushing the kids out the door, a long day of work, a traffic-filled commute home, feeding the kids dinner, cleaning it up and getting them off to bed, it was now time to go food shopping.  My excitement was just bursting from my bones and it showed.  I walked out the front door bidding my husband farewell as if I never expected to return.  The expression on my face was that of exhaustion and resentment.  He smiled contently and offered a cheery "bye babe!" as he laid comfortably on the couch in front of the fireplace watching TV.  I was not a happy camper.

I arrive at the food store and find much to my surprise that it wasn't crowded at all.  Maybe this won't be so bad.  I'll zip through and work off my list.  I should be out of here in no time.  I found only a few items were sold out so I could just run to another store for that.  No big deal.  With most of the items from my list gathered, I went to select my turkey.  I was worried that the frozen turkey wouldn't defrost on time, but since frozen was the kind you get for free, frozen was the kind for me.

I pick up a nice turkey and decided it should be good enough.  I was looking for one that was 16 pounds, but this 17 pound one should be just fine.  The nice guy working there saw me going in for the double-check and asked if I needed help.  I should have just said no, but instead I said "well, I kinda wanted a 16-pound turkey, but..." and just like that he said, "I'll go check in the back" and he darted off.  A moment later I thought to myself "you know, 16 pounds might be too small anyway".  But what kind of jerk leaves when the guy is in the back trying to help you!  I waited and waited for him to come back.  Where the hell do they store the rest of the turkeys!??  I'm sure he's gone off site to check.  He finally comes back nearly 10 minutes later and offers up a turkey the exact size I requested.  I thanked him of course, but now what?  I already have the turkey that I really do want in my cart.  I put the second turkey on top and walked away wondering how to ditch the spare.  After a few minutes, I saw he walked away and I hurriedly dropped the unwanted turkey into my kid's arms and ordered him to hurry up and put this back before the guy sees!  We got away with it.

Things seemed to be going pretty smoothly for once...that is if you don't count the part about me being in tremendous pain.  I don't know what was going on, but something was making me have to stop every few steps doubled over in abdominal pain.  It hurt so badly that I was getting dizzy and I actually considered talking to my teenager about what to do if I collapse or cough up blood.  It was bad.  Real bad.  But I had to press on for the sake of Thanksgiving.

I get to the register and find that I have chosen the cashier that wants to discuss her life story with the very clearly uninterested lady in front of me.  I just want to get the hell out of here already and I'm sure the lady in front of me felt the same.  I loaded my goods onto the checkout counter and told the cashier to ring up the food first so I could get my free turkey coupon and then ring that up next.  She kindly complied and then kindly informed me that I was short of earning a turkey.  "By how much?" I ask, thinking that I could just grab a few more items.  Yea, I was $90 short of a free turkey.  Great.  Now that I realize I will be paying for my turkey, I figure I may as well get the freshie.

I lug this big frozen seventeen-pounder all the way back to the frozen turkey pit - conveniently located at the opposite end of the store.  I head over to the fresh turkey case, ready to start digging but my efforts are met with some lady who seems to be staking claim of the whole bin.  She stood right in the middle and was just standing there browsing but not touching a thing.  There were only a few left to chose from, so I imagined she shouldn't take long.  Ever polite, I try to browse around off to the side until she's through.  Alright, she's clearly here for the long-haul so I'm going to have to get in there at some point.  I offer a pleasant "excuse me" as I stand beside her trying to get in.  She doesn't budge.  In fact, she ignores me entirely.  At this point, every fiber of my being is screaming "throw a turkey at her face!" but I took the high road and restrained myself.  Instead I just leaned into her as I reached for the turkey that she quite obviously was preparing to pick up.  Too bad lady, you should have been nicer.  Happy Thanksgiving to you now with your sub-standard turkey.

Quite content with my selection, I carry this one all the way through the store and back to the register.  My teenager now practically laying on the cart in boredom, musters up the energy to pick his head up and acknowledge that I'm back.  As I'm standing waiting my turn in line again, I noticed that there is a puddle next to me on the floor.  I though, "gee, someone should clean that up before someone slips.  How do you just leave a puddl-" wait as second - that's my turkey bleeding out all over the floor!!!!!  I look down and find that my favorite wool sweater is also covered in the bloody rue.  Just great.  I slam the bird up on the checkout and inform her of the "spill" over there.  I didn't feel the need to mention who did it considering the evidence was all over me.  Unless she thought perhaps I had stopped to murder someone while shopping, I'm pretty sure she knew I was responsible.

As the turkey juice dried on my hands, they became increasingly sticky.  I still had to reach into my purse for my card, sign the receipt and get my keys, gagging all the while.  Everything was getting stuck to my hands and I was grossed out to the max.  At least the shopping is done.

The night before Thanksgiving is when I realized that my turkey pan was gone.  It had disappeared into thin air.  Just vanished off the face of the Earth.  As if it just grew legs and walked away.  Certainly someone at some point had broken into the house and stolen my turkey roaster.  This was not good.  I told my husband of this issue and he assured me not to worry because he would pick one up tomorrow morning.  At this point, I was much too tired to question whether this was a solid plan so I accepted it and went to bed.

Thanksgiving morning rolled around fast.  My husband was up and out the door before I knew it.  Let me back up for a second.  About a week ago, my husband reminded me that he would again be participating in what is referred to as "The Turkey Parmesan Bowl".  You see, every year he and his buddies that he rarely sees the rest of the year, get together and play soccer on Thanksgiving morning.  It's probably the only day of the year that he plays a sport any more and one guy comes in only once a year from Italy to visit family and partakes in this annual event they've created.  They love it.  It's a tradition.  Traditions are nice.  Soccer is nice.  Being a part of something is nice.  Getting together with buddies is nice.  Doing it on THANKSGIVING of ALL DAYS is not nice for your wife when she's home alone with 3 kids and cooking enough food to feed a small village.  As always, I will come to my husband's defense and say he really doesn't go out and do much and rarely does he ever play soccer any more so I do feel bad to make a big deal out of it even though I can't help but want to.  It's just such bad timing.  BUT being the wonderful and supportive wife that I am, I wish him the best and remind him to stretch.  As he leaves, I smile and wave as I suppress the intense frustration I feel boiling up inside.  I manage not to accidentally say "Hey jerkoff, I hope you pull a groin muscle".

Back to that roasting pan - yea, I still don't have one.  The hubs assured me he would pick it up on his way home and they should be done around 10 or 10:30 am.  I have no choice in the matter now so let me start cooking everything else I have.  I put the parade on for the kids and then begin my tireless efforts to divert their attention to the parade on TV.  As I'm ranting and raving about how great the parade is and pointing out the various balloons, they barely even look up to see that big Garfield that I am freaking out about.  Surely I'm not that into Garfield any more, but it's all I could do to make them think it was something they shouldn't miss.  It's just that I loved the parade as a kid - that whole feeling of smelling the food cooking and watching the parade, I want to share that warm memory and feeling with my kids.  Problem is, they clearly don't give a rat's ass about this parade or anything else I have to say.  I gave up and switched my focus to the fact that it's now 10:45 am and there is no roasting pan in my hand.  I call my husband's cell phone and there's no answer.  Of course.  It's always when things are most urgent that phone calls go unanswered.  According to the label and weight of the turkey, I would have to get this sucker in the oven before 11am if we wanted to eat by 4pm.  It's coming dangerously close and I'm getting nervous.

I finally get in touch with my husband and they are still in full-on game mode.  Not even close to finishing up.  When I reminded him that it's Thanksgiving and I have this turkey sitting here just begging to be roasted and that he told me he would get me a roasting pan and be done by around 10 or 10:30, I was basically told that he never said that.  The roasting pan part was true, he knew he had to get that but evidently we have PLENTY of time left because he can't understand why I'm freaking out.  Also, he can't understand where I got this false information about him being home by 10:30am.  He explained in the gentlest way possible that there was no way he would be home that early.  I then rebutted ever-so-kindly that he did in fact tell me that, and this was the only thing that kept me from bugging out about the whole thing last week when he told me he was going.  (by "gently" and "ever-so-kindly" I mean we snapped at each other in the nastiest and most sarcastic way possible, just shy of name calling and spiking the phone on the ground).

I had no choice but to go to Plan B - which included calling my sister and bitching about the whole morning not going right.  I also called my mother, my brother and everyone I know.  Well, not everyone - probably just those 3.  Luckily, my sister was nice enough to bring me a roasting pan.  I skipped stuffing it to save on cooking time and I got the turkey in the oven a few minutes past 11am. It was that very moment that my husband came busting through the front door asking why I had to get my sister to bring it when he told me he would get it!  I ain't got time for THAT so I just left it with the always dreaded "whatever!".

With my husband home now and all the food prepared and cooked, and the turkey roasting nicely in the oven we were able to get everything in order and straightened up ready for our guests.  I made some beautiful appetizers and we were just going to take it easy and relax.  Small crowd means less pressure so let's just enjoy.  All was forgotten and my husband and I were back in each other's good graces again.

My appetizer

As the the better part of an hour passed, I decided to give the ol' turkey a check.  Hmmm, that's peculiar.  For as long as this turkey has been in there, the pat of butter that is inside the body cavity didn't even melt!!  That can't be right!  I better get this back in there then and quit blowing more time.  The hours roll on and the meat thermometer has been put in at least 5 times and it's not even come close to reading near done!!  Surely the meat thermometer is broken.  Why doesn't this damn turkey have one of those pop-up thingies in it!!????

I had planned to warm up the rest of the already prepared and cooked dishes in the oven after I took the turkey out so that we could eat just before 5pm.  This was not working out as planned.  5pm came and went with the turkey still looking like we only put it in 40 minutes ago.  I couldn't wait any more and the kids were about to eat their limbs so I started putting in all the sides so that we could eat them while we wait for the turkey to finish cooking.  The mac n cheese got burned.  Son of a bitch.  I should have never cooked it first.  Oh well, at least my stuffing concoction came out great!!  Cranberry walnut cornbread stuffing - I'll never eat stuffing any other way!!

We dined and enjoyed all of the side dishes and were already pretty full, but still saving room for the main course.  I took the turkey out at 6 - now 2 hours past the expected cook time.  It still doesn't look done.  I cut a leg off to check and it was basically still raw!  I had to carve the whole thing up and put it back in the oven to cook in pieces!!  It had to have been the driest turkey anyone has ever eaten aside from the turkey in the Christmas Vacation movie.  I've cooked a turkey every year for probably 10+ years now.  I just don't know where we went wrong.

Butchered

All in all, it was a great time though.  Sure, the turkey was as dry as cotton and yes, I did forget to put out the cranberry sauce and I do admit I burned the baked mac n' cheese and in retrospect I do regret telling my husband in a not-so-pleasant way to go to his mother's house for thanksgiving next time.  (Especially considering that would not be fair for me since she's an amazing chef).  But family is the most important part and we laughed, enjoyed each others company and made memories.  We were all together and had our health and happiness.  What more could I ask for in a holiday?

Nine Minutes of Hell

Most people dread going to work for the obvious reasons.  I dread it because it is just no protection from my "problems".  I just have to accept that my luck follows me no matter where I am.

Maybe a week ago I was at my desk and realized I was really hungry and it was fast approaching closing time at the work cafeteria.  I had totally lost track of time somehow and I knew if I didn't bust a move right now, I was going to have to starve.  I grabbed my wallet and off I went.  At my work, it's a decent walk to the cafeteria.  Even walking briskly can take a good 7 plus minutes to get there, so knowing the cafeteria was closing soon I was going as fast as my little legs could take me.  As I approached the elevator, I remembered that yesterday it had an "Out of Order" sign on it.  Since elevators scare me so, I opted to skip that one and move on to the next.  I couldn't take the chance of it not being totally fixed.  I shiver at the mere thought, so I press on.  

I approach the second elevator and my timing was impeccable.  It just happened to be open and waiting for me.  There was no one else waiting or in there.  Just the way I like it.  No breathing other peoples' air.  As my tummy rumbles, I press the button to bring me down 2 floors.  The door closes and off I go.

Now before I am chastised for taking the elevator down 2 measly floors, I will admit that in spite of my believing I've been blessed with perpetual youth (shut up), I do have a bad knee.  It's often painful, especially going down the steps so I try to avoid that.  The pain is secondary though to the creaking and grinding sounds it makes as I descend.  It's truly nauseating.  Until it gets better, I use the elevator to go down but I do use the steps to go up.

Back to the elevator....I've felt the drop feeling of the car going down the two floors.  I've felt the slowing as it approached my floor.  I didn't quite feel the "stop" feeling at the bottom so I wait.  Two hours later (8 seconds later) the door is still not open.  I suddenly feel hot all over.  "Don't freak out, it will open any second now" I repeat to myself over and over.  Deep cleansing breaths are doing little more than adding to my dizziness.  I think I'm stuck.  Those doors aren't opening.  

Inside I'm completely flipping the eff out, but since there are cameras inside these elevators I appear completely calm and collected.  Heaven forbid the security guys catch a glimpse of me with a worried expression on my face while I'm trapped, yet I have no issue adjusting "the girls" on a daily basis in there.  I finally accept the fact that I am definitely stuck now.  No two ways about it.  I opened the compartment and picked up the courtesy phone (also know as the "get me the f#*k out of here!" phone).  Immediately, I heard a voice on the other end asking if I was OK.  I said yes and he said they would have someone there momentarily.  He remained on the line with me as they arrived.  They were literally there within seconds.  The nice man on the phone said calmly, OK they have a key they're going to open the doors for you now.  I did actually feel comforted for the moment while I heard the men outside the elevator and the reassuring voice on the phone.  He again asked if I was OK and lying through my teeth I said yes.  He let me go when I told him the guys were there.  

As I hung up I could hear the keys jingling.  I figured I would be out of here in a moments time.  I then heard a voice yelling "hello?" from above me.  This was followed by the voices of the men outside the door saying "who was that??  who is up there?".  Their confusion was a major setback in my portrayal of the calm trapped passenger.  I was starting to really get scared now.  How do they not know who that was and why was someone above me??  Surely by this point 3 or 4 seconds have passed and I've noticed that in spite of hearing the keys supposedly unlocking the doors, the doors remain closed.  I hear and see the doors banging around as they fight to get them open.  OBVIOUSLY these keys are not working!!!  I'm starting to hyperventilate.  The room is closing in on  me!  Oh God here come the chest pains, now I'm having a heart attack!  They struggled with that door for what felt like DAYS.  I was  almost about to get back on the courtesy phone and tell them I was about to die.  At the time, it seemed logical to me that if I had an emergency, they would somehow be able to open the doors faster.  All kinds of scenarios were playing out in my mind; I wondered if I would be in here for hours?  I wondered if anyone was trapped so long that they eventually just died waiting.  I wondered why I couldn't have gotten stuck after I got my food so I would have some form of sustenance in the event the rescue takes an extended amount of time to free me!

Just as I was about to accept that I would be living out my final moments in this box, the doors were finally pried open.  My rescuer poked his head in as he pressed the doors apart with all his might.  He had to have been seven feet tall.  He asked if I was OK and I smiled politely and said "yes".  He then thanked me for some reason as I walked away in a daze.  I replied with "no, thank YOU" but I didn't turn to look his way as I said it.  I was thoroughly freaked out and I didn't want them to see it.  In retrospect, I wish I had been a little more thankful, but in my defense, aside from being terrified I was also embarrassed.  It was quite the scene.  I did make it to the cafeteria on time somehow.  I managed to get my food and pay all while shaking uncontrollably.  It took hours to get over it.  HOURS.

All I wanted was a tiny morsel of chicken from the salad bar and my life was almost compromised!!  Is it really too much to ask that I just get a day where something absurd doesn't happen?  All in all, it could have been worse and I am certainly thankful I was rescued so quickly.  It could have happened to anyone, but of course it happened to me.  I can't help but think this is payback for my little list of elevator rules I posted. 

The Nightmare of the Twice-remodeled Bathroom

Well, we did it again.  We decided to remodel something in our house that we probably* had no business doing.  I do have to hand it to us though because when it was finally done, our new bathroom turned out beautifully.  With the exception of our one friend, we did this thing completely on our own and I am very proud of our work.  My husband really has become quite the craftsman when it comes to tile work.

We bought our house six years ago knowing full-well it was a major fixer-upper.  In fact, I think we might have saved a buck or two by just plowing that son-of-a-bitch down and starting fresh.  We had to redo every single room in this house.  EVERY room.  And when I say "redo" I don't mean some quick cosmetic fixes just slapping some paint on the walls either.  We are talking down to the studs, new walls, new floors, new fixtures, new electrical, new everything you can think of.  Clearly we bought for the neighborhood and for that I have no regrets.  It's a great neighborhood, a nice place to raise kids, my mom's house is a mere 2 minute drive, we have great neighbors (well, except for that ONE guy) and it's perfectly located dead center between my job and my husband's job.  So at the end of the day, it was a score but getting to where we are today was just horrific.  There's no sugar coating it.

This most recent remodel is the second one for that same bathroom.  Yes, the second one in six years.  Why you ask?  Well because for starters we never finished it last time.  Add to it the fact that I didn't research the materials I chose and because of that, they didn't hold up well to the moisture.  The vision then was white wainscoting from the floor up to about 4 feet.  Then a nautical blue paint.  The floor and shower enclosure was slate tile and to offset the rough, rugged stone I chose polished chrome fixtures.  In my head and in the clippings I used for inspiration it looked fantastic.

Flash forward four years - the blue paint never made it to the walls because the top trim on top of the wainscoting never was installed.  For that same reason, I also never painted the wainscoting.  In our defense, we don't have a table saw to be able to make the proper cuts need for the trim so technically none of this is our fault.  Whatever our excuse, not paining the wainscoting would prove to be a critical mistake.  Did you know that if left unpainted, the particular wainscoting I have will swell and basically flake apart entirely when it comes in contact with moisture?  Not a good mix when you are raising a little boy whose idea of a good time is to sneak off and spend all day splashing water from the bathroom sink onto the walls.

This time we were going to do it right.  We measured everything, considered everything, did price comparisons, added up our rough estimate and then after weeks of mulling it over, we went to Home Depot and I pulled the trigger.  I said "honey, for my birthday I want a new bathroom.  I have my Home Depot card on me and we are buying everything right here and now".

We were off to a fairly smooth start.  Well, with the exception of having both kids with us and neither one of them taking a break from being impossible, demanding, loud little monsters the whole time in the store.  In spite of that, I was pleased to find all the materials came to under $700.  Not bad!  When we left, we had a minivan jam packed with all the beach gear we never took out and everything a person would need to build a new bathroom (providing they forgot half of the materials as we did).

On Friday we began the demolition and were very excited that "by Monday" we should have a functioning bathroom and "by Wednesday" it would be completely finished.  We had strict deadlines to keep us on task.  It had to be done by Wednesday because we were going out of town overnight on Thursday and then Saturday we were having everyone over for a birthday party.  Yea, no pressure there.  I was sure we could do it though.  I work well under pressure and the people on TV do stuff like this all the time.  There were plenty of episodes of "Weekend Warriors" where they got this done without issue.  Besides, we'd already ripped the walls down 4 years ago, so we shouldn't have any surprises this time around.

As always we were dead wrong.  There were still surprises.  For instance, when we put the wainscoting up we naturally assumed it would be up for a while.  We certainly never anticipated ripping it down any time in the forseeable future.  That is why 8 gallons of glue was applied in addition to the 30,000 nails.  In spite of the gratification we got ripping it down, we just were not prepared for the glue ripping most of the wall off with it.  We had some major patch work to do now.  Half a bucket of spakle and a day and a half later and the problem was still no better.  The spakle just refuses to dry and what's worse is that the paper from the sheetrock was peeling off now too.  There was no way we were getting a smooth wall out of this.  The easy and much cheaper fix would have been to replace the sheetrock.  Instead, we decided we would just tile the walls all the way around the bathroom instead of just in the shower.  Sure it might take a little longer, and cost a fortune, but it will look so nice!

Now we have to buy a ton more tile and go to multiple Home Depots because ours doesn't have enough in stock!  Further, we have to figure out how to handle all the corners and cuts and everything else.  In addition to paying for all the extra material, my husband is going to need a real tile saw now.  Not like the piece of crap that has just barely gotten him by for all of our other projects.  There goes a couple hundred more dollars, but it was money well spent.  He sets up everything beautifully and he is ready to get this job done.  The tile saw is outside and everything he needs is neatly lined up beside it.  Probably two tiles in and it starts raining.  We had to break down the entire works and set it up in the kitchen.  As if it's not hard enough trying to remodel a bathroom with three kids in the house, now we have a wet saw in the middle of the kitchen.  In case you are not familiar, these things spray water - and not clean water, it's more of a cement-like mixture.  It's not something you want indoors, least of all in your kitchen when you still have a family to feed.  Lets hope this rain doesn't stick around.

I think it rained for 12 straight days.  We missed our deadline by a LONG shot.  I rescheduled our trip out of town and I moved the birthday party to the following weekend.  Did I mention that the entire bathroom is being tiled in subway tile?  That means that instead of my husband having to put up a bunch of big square tiles, he has to put up literally 500+ small ones one at a time and if you go off level at any point, you will ruin the entire thing the rest of the way around the room.  I really do have to commend my husband though.  He did an amazing job.  It is really impressive.

While we were working on all of this, the kids have made this experience go from a difficulty level of "quite difficult" to "so impossible that we contemplated abandoning everything we know and just starting a new life - alone - without even each other - or a forwarding address".  Children are naturally curious so I understood why they insisted on being right in the mix of the work.  However, it's pretty dangerous for them to be around - especially considering the fact that they both completely insist on being barefoot at all times.  They did nothing but cry, scream, fight and get hurt through the entire project.  Every two minutes (and I mean that literally) someone was calling me for something.  It was absolutely maddening.  They couldn't just go play for even a half hour without a major problem.  The worst is that my daughter decided that she wasn't going to be potty trained any more.  I was switching between roles of Stone Mason and Mommy and although challenging, I didn't mind it too much.  What I did not appreciate was when the roles of Laborer and Janitor were added.  As I was spakling and collecting garbage, my daughter was peeing and pooping all over the house as if she were a new puppy.  She was even taking great joy in it as I lost my mind.  She would walk into the bathroom barefoot as we screamed at her to get out because it's dangerous.  Instead of heeding our warnings, she would push through smiling and singing "I peeeeeed!".  She was peeing her pants without any regard for anyone or anything around her.  The carpet in the den really took a beating, as did any toys, chairs, couches, pets and siblings that had the misfortune of being under her.  Clearly she was doing it for attention.  The pooping everywhere was even worse.

My sister-in-law offered to take the kids for a little while one day so we could get some work done without them in the way.  God Bless her and thank goodness she came when she did.  I'm pretty sure at one point my husband said something like "don't ever bring them back" and I can't be certain they heard me, but at one point I did refer to the kids as "assholes" so I think it was in everyone's best interest that the house clear out for a bit.  This project was really bringing out the worst in both of us.  My poor babies.

Another great challenge was having to still feed and care for everyone while the place was under construction.  If you've ever done any kind of project at home or even had professionals come do work, you know that no matter how much of a precaution you take, dust and debris still manages to get EVERYWHERE in the house.  The tile saw in the kitchen was just the icing on the cake to what was already a disaster.  I think one of my favorite parts was when I was standing at the stove holding lids over everything to keep it uncontaminated as I cooked while my husband cut tile and unintentionally sprayed my back with tile sludge.  It most certainly was not his fault.  The saw was only inches away from my back, it couldn't really be avoided.  I shouldn't complain though.  At least this time we have walls.  Last time we remodeled the bathroom, we didn't have walls for weeks.  The bathroom was completely open to the attic and to bathe, we would have to use a cup to collect the water from a pipe and just pour it on our bodies to wash.  Did I mention it was the dead of winter and the bathroom was probably only about 10 degrees above the outdoor temperature?  That was fun.  I kept reminding myself of that as this project dragged on longer than we ever anticipated.

Although it took over two weeks, cost us probably $800 more than we had budgeted, took at least 15 trips back and forth to Home Depot and nearly destroyed our marriage, that bathroom looks awesome.  We missed meals, got injured, went to bed angry, screamed at the kids, skipped showers, destroyed clothes and cried a lot but it had to be done and we are richer from the experience.  I've since made it up to my little ones by spending extra play time with them and showering them with tons of love, affection and millions of kisses.  Through it all, we have kids that we love more than anything and who still love us, a strong marriage and a beautiful bathroom - all of which we are very proud.  In the end I can honestly say that if I had to do it all again..... I would sooner burn the house to the ground.

Moral:  Do-it-Yourself Jobs are not for those with small children.  


*most definately

My Scentsy Shameful Plug to get you through...

I have recently become an Independent Consultant for Scentsy!!  Please check out my website
https://aprilicity.scentsy.us

I have a new blog in the works that is strictly NON-business and will be posted this week.  

Please excuse this shameful plug in the mean time.

Like a sweet melody, a fragrance can transport you to another place and time.  Be it a fond memory, a cozy winter evening or the fresh tropical breeze of paradise.  A wonderful smell can change a mood and soothe the soul.

WELL HELLO SCENTSY

Recently, that very thing happened to me.  I was transported.  It wasn't the first time and now that I have Scentsy in my life, it ceraintly won't be the last.  A friend selling Scentsy convinced me to have a party.  I somehow managed to bypass that part of my brain that normally throws up a red light the instant I think someone is selling something....regardless of how much I might otherwise adore the person.  I had never even smelled anything Scentsy before and really didn't know anything about it until the night before my party.  My first Scentsy experience was with "Lucky in Love".  As I took that first sniff, my eyes closed.  Suddenly I was thirteen years in the past at my old house, young and preparing for a night out with my friends.  My eyes opened as I snapped back to real life.  "Wow, that smell brings me right back" I said.  It was literally love at first sniff and it was that moment that I knew I wanted to be a part of this.

MY LIFE B.S. (before Scentsy)

Let me tell you a little bit about what led up to this pivotal moment.  The evening I was introduced to Scentsy began like this...

After a long day of work, I raced home to meet my Scentsy Consultant friend at my house.  As she fought her way through my front door, she was greeted with the typical scene: the TV on and much too loud, kids clamoring to see who is coming in, my dog barking incessently and my husband trying his best to shut the dog up and kicking a path to the front door through the random toys the kids dropped at the sight of a guest.  Then there's me - with this look on my face, waiting to see if she's offended by the place.  I immediately jump to explain myself, "I'm sorry for the mess, I just got home from work and haven't had a chance to pick up and the kids just, uh - Oh and sorry for the smell, we were cooking with onions and we haven't sifted the litter box yet and....".  I have so many things I feel the need to explain but my guest can barely hear me peddling my excuses over all the noise!

I have three children, a dog (who has been stuck on the "non-stop barking" setting for the past 12 years) and two cats.  To say my house is busy and chaotic would be a major understatement.  In addition to juggling the house and the kids and the pets, I work full-time and I don't get home from work until after 6pm.  When I do get home it's rush to make dinner, rush to eat, rush to do homework, rush to clean up, rush the kids off to bed, rush, rush, rush until I collapse on the couch and realize it's past my ownbedtime. But such is my life.  It's busy and hectic and there is never enough time.  

THAT'S IT! THAT'S THE ANSWER!

Having all these kids and pets is what makes Scentsy make sense for me!  Let's face it; kids and especialy pets can take away from the freshness in your home.  Between the litter box, lost sippie cups of milk, grapes that roll away to far off places, and things that happened that they they will never tell you about, you have to be part maid and part investigaor to keep up with it all!  I've spent many hours of my "free time" cleaning and trying to make the place smell good, only to find all the air fresheners, sprays and every other product would just never work as well as I would like.  The only thing that would kind of work were the expensive candles but they are scary!  Why? Because of the very reason I need them in the first place!  The kids and the pets!!  It was a vicious cycle.  Thank you Scentsy, you have broken the cycle!  With the  warmers, I no longer have to worry about the kids burning the place down just because I insist that the house not smell like a farm!  

Unlike anything else I have ever used, the Scentsy aromas filled my whole house and the fragrance lasted for hours, even days after I turned it off!  I have finally found the secret to having my house smell great!  And I could be wrong, but Iswear the house even looks a little cleaner just having it smell so good!

Now that I've become a Scentsy Independent Consultant, some of that "free" time I was spending on the never ending batltle at home can be used selling a product I really have a passion for that has made a difference in  my home and my life.  What a great excuse to go out and socialize while making a few extra bucks!  It's win-win!