As of Sunday evening, I had multiple appliance problems. The thermostat blinks and freaks out every time you try to adjust the temperature (although I'm not 100% convinced that Bart didn't rig that up somehow to keep me from turning the AC down.) The microwave is making some really weird rattling/buzzing sounds. The dryer knob broke off (that would be set o' pliers #1). And Bart broke the kitchen sink faucet. Again. (That would be set o' pliers #2.) I don't exactly know when he broke the faucet, but it wasn't fixed by the time I returned from 24 hours of Girl Scout Camping. I was dirty. I was exhausted. And I was pissed about the kitchen sink.
So - in an effort to spur my loving husband into action next time, I proceeded to drive to Lowe's Monday morning and buy not only a brand new faucet, but a new sink too. $273 of new stainless steel sink and faucet, to be exact. So there. In all fairness, we really did need a new sink too. Lord only knows what the people who lived here before us did to it. The enamel on the sink was rubbing off when we got here, and that was 4 1/2 years ago. So you can imagine how bad it looks now. Plus, in my endless hours of studying HGTV shows, I noticed that a new kitchen trend is the "single-basin sink." This is a big-ole bad boy sink, with no middle partition. I have wanted one for awhile. I mean, the 2-basin sink was designed to wash dishes on one side, and then rinse on the other. No one does that anymore. You either rinse on either side, and then put in the dishwasher, or you throw the paper plates in the garbage, and use the faucet to add water to your scotch.
I love my sink. I've seriously considered calling it "my precious." It's shiny and beautiful and mine all mine.
I obviously have gone completely bat shit.
When did my life get so very sad and pathetic that a NEW KITCHEN SINK would be the highlight of my year so far? And I have been known to drool over those huge LG washing machines and dryers - the ones that do an entire load of clothes in 36 minutes? And then there the oven that can boil water in 18 seconds. Whoa.
I try to maintain some level of hip. Facebook says I'm a "Pretty Hip Mom." (I didn't publish that on Facebook, of course, as we all know that using the word "hip" is a clear indicator that you are not hip at all...) I have read all 4 Twilight Saga books. (Team Edward!) I am going to see Jimmy Buffett next month. I'm hoping to go see No Doubt and Paramore in June. I know more than half the words to Lady GaGa's "Pokerface." (A song I initially hated, but it has now taken root in my head and won't go away.) I can name about half of the characters from the new Battlestar Galactica. (New as in newer than the old one, since the new one has been on for 4 seasons, and just ended.) I have an Ipod. I text message frequently. I still go out - without kids - with my friends and/or husband at least once a month. Usually more. When I'm alone on my car, I still crank up the tunes. Which probably looks ridiculous - me driving around in my family truckster blaring American Idiot or Decode.
But then there's the simple hard truth of the whole age thing. I can't seem to get around it. I freaked out when I heard Flo Rida's re-make of the old Dead or Alive song "You Spin Me Right Round." Have you heard it? It's talking about BJs, for Christ sakes! Right on the radio in the middle of the day!!! I suppose many of the kids don't even realize what they are talking about. I didn't know what the Cyndi Lauper song "Shebop" was about until I was in my 20's. I refuse to dress my daughter in the slutty clothing they put out there for 7 year olds these days. Thank God for school uniforms. Lately, I seem to want to spend time in restaurants and bars where I can actually hear another person speaking to me. I am so old.
Remember how sad it was at the end of St. Elmo's Fire, when they all decided to skip the bar because they had to work/job hunt the next day? And decided to go to brunch that weekend instead. That's me now. Except that the kids in St. Elmo's Fire were only like 24 when they decided that. (Proof of fiction in films. I was passed out at Seville Square or Flounders when I was 24...)
The only thing that makes me feel better? That end-of-St.Elmo's-Fire person? That's you too! That makes me feel better. That - and my beautiful new sink. My precious.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
Top 10 Movie Quotes
So, if you're on Facebook, then you might have seen the little Top 10 Movie quotes thingie going around. You post your favorite 10 movie quotes, and people try to guess what they are. I have spent the better part of 2 days narrowing down and perfecting my list. It's really hard to come up with ONLY 10, and I DO NOT need IMDB to get my quotes.
Unfortunately, Facebook decided to get a "new look", and the Movie Quotes thingie has vanished. Bastards.
So, since I put soooooooo much time and thought and effort into them, here they are. (I'll put the movie at the bottom, in case you can't guess.) In no particular order:
* "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go though life, son."
* "It's da shooze."
* "Oh great! You've killed the invisible swordsman!"
* "You can always trust the dishonest ones to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you have to worry about."
* "Rabbit is wise. Rabbit is good."
* "You. Shall. Not. Pass!"
* "I'm your Huckelberry."
* "Give me the big knife." "I won't do it Johnny!"
* "Boomchacalacalaca. Boomchacalacalaca...why did the chicken cross the road? To get from the left to the right!"
* "My name's not f*$#*ng Warren!"
And, the answers are:
"Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go though life, son." - Deam Wormer, Animal House
* "It's da shooze." Agador Sparticus, The Bird Cage
* "Oh great! You've killed the invisible swordsman!" Dusty Bottoms, The Three Amigos
* "You can always trust the dishonest ones to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you have to worry about." Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean - Curse of The Black Pearl
* "Rabbit is wise. Rabbit is good." Rabbit, Twister
* "You. Shall. Not. Pass!" Ganfalf, LOTR Fellowship of the Ring
* "I'm your Huckelberry." Doc, Tombstone
* "Give me the big knife." "I won't do it Johnny!" Ronny & co-worker, Moonstruck
* "Boomchacalacalaca. Boomchacalacalaca...why did the chicken cross the road? To get from the left to the right!" The entire company, Stripes
* "My name's not f*$#*ng Warren!" Warren, Empire Records
These are some of my all-time, absolute favorite movies. If you haven't seen them, check them out. I'd be hard-pressed to pick my favorite one or two. (Notice - no sappy romances or freakin' Oscar movies- Moonstruck excepted. No "English Patient" here. Hmmmm....a reflection of my personality and character? Very likely...)
Unfortunately, Facebook decided to get a "new look", and the Movie Quotes thingie has vanished. Bastards.
So, since I put soooooooo much time and thought and effort into them, here they are. (I'll put the movie at the bottom, in case you can't guess.) In no particular order:
* "Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go though life, son."
* "It's da shooze."
* "Oh great! You've killed the invisible swordsman!"
* "You can always trust the dishonest ones to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you have to worry about."
* "Rabbit is wise. Rabbit is good."
* "You. Shall. Not. Pass!"
* "I'm your Huckelberry."
* "Give me the big knife." "I won't do it Johnny!"
* "Boomchacalacalaca. Boomchacalacalaca...why did the chicken cross the road? To get from the left to the right!"
* "My name's not f*$#*ng Warren!"
And, the answers are:
"Fat, drunk, and stupid is no way to go though life, son." - Deam Wormer, Animal House
* "It's da shooze." Agador Sparticus, The Bird Cage
* "Oh great! You've killed the invisible swordsman!" Dusty Bottoms, The Three Amigos
* "You can always trust the dishonest ones to be dishonest. It's the honest ones you have to worry about." Captain Jack Sparrow, Pirates of the Caribbean - Curse of The Black Pearl
* "Rabbit is wise. Rabbit is good." Rabbit, Twister
* "You. Shall. Not. Pass!" Ganfalf, LOTR Fellowship of the Ring
* "I'm your Huckelberry." Doc, Tombstone
* "Give me the big knife." "I won't do it Johnny!" Ronny & co-worker, Moonstruck
* "Boomchacalacalaca. Boomchacalacalaca...why did the chicken cross the road? To get from the left to the right!" The entire company, Stripes
* "My name's not f*$#*ng Warren!" Warren, Empire Records
These are some of my all-time, absolute favorite movies. If you haven't seen them, check them out. I'd be hard-pressed to pick my favorite one or two. (Notice - no sappy romances or freakin' Oscar movies- Moonstruck excepted. No "English Patient" here. Hmmmm....a reflection of my personality and character? Very likely...)
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Rose Colored Glasses
This blog is about my pathetic level of self esteem. Sort of.
I have a pretty good life and marriage. But you know, after giving birth to two children, and living contentedly in married life for more than 10 years, well, I've put on a little weight. OK, a lot of weight. God bless the rose colored glasses that Bart wears when he looks at me. I don't know where he got them or how they work, but I hope they never fall off by accident. He often says "none of us look like we did in college", which is true. (For those of you out there that hit your "awkward" stage in college and look better NOW, hats off to you. But you're in the vast minority, so you don't count in this discussion.) Most everyone I know is at least a little heavier than they were in college. Some have gray hair. Some have less hair. We all pretty much have wrinkles.
But here's the thing: if Bart and I had never met, and we were at the same restaurant with friends, and I walked by, I am 99.9% sure he would not even look at me. Or if he did, he would glance at me and think "lazy and non-athletic." Being a former college diver, Bart is still pretty fit. He runs and works out and plays hockey. If he walked by me in a restaurant, I am 99.9% sure I would look at him and think "hmmm - good looking guy. Wonder if he's married?"
The real unfairness of this assessment is that although I LOOK lazy and non-athletic, I'm actually not. I am fairly athletic. I would guess I am probably more fit than most of America. I can run 3 miles without stopping. Granted, it's not a blistering pace, but I can clear 11-12 minute miles without too much difficulty. I can hop on my bike and ride 12 - 14 miles. I can swim 1200-1500 yards non-stop (or stopping only to take a sip of water.) I have had exactly 2 friends try to go swim laps with me. Neither of them has ever gone with me again. One friend said "damn, girl, how do you DO that?" My point here is that I am fitter than I appear. (or put another way - objects in this mirror, or any mirror actually, appear larger than they are...)
Lucky me, I get to live in the fit capital of the world too. I love Tampa, but when we first moved here, I thought "Great. I am the fattest mom in Tampa." Granted, Chase was only 5 months old then, so at least I had an excuse. But seriously - Tampa has some of the fittest moms I have ever seen. They're all tan and fit in their running shoes and tennis skirts. I can get tan, but I don't know about the rest.
So I do battle every day. I force myself to exercise and I try to watch what I eat. It doesn't seem to do much good, but the battle rages on. Every once in a while Bart drives me so nutty that I want to smack him upside the head. But I can't.
I might knock those pretty colored glasses off his head.
I have a pretty good life and marriage. But you know, after giving birth to two children, and living contentedly in married life for more than 10 years, well, I've put on a little weight. OK, a lot of weight. God bless the rose colored glasses that Bart wears when he looks at me. I don't know where he got them or how they work, but I hope they never fall off by accident. He often says "none of us look like we did in college", which is true. (For those of you out there that hit your "awkward" stage in college and look better NOW, hats off to you. But you're in the vast minority, so you don't count in this discussion.) Most everyone I know is at least a little heavier than they were in college. Some have gray hair. Some have less hair. We all pretty much have wrinkles.
But here's the thing: if Bart and I had never met, and we were at the same restaurant with friends, and I walked by, I am 99.9% sure he would not even look at me. Or if he did, he would glance at me and think "lazy and non-athletic." Being a former college diver, Bart is still pretty fit. He runs and works out and plays hockey. If he walked by me in a restaurant, I am 99.9% sure I would look at him and think "hmmm - good looking guy. Wonder if he's married?"
The real unfairness of this assessment is that although I LOOK lazy and non-athletic, I'm actually not. I am fairly athletic. I would guess I am probably more fit than most of America. I can run 3 miles without stopping. Granted, it's not a blistering pace, but I can clear 11-12 minute miles without too much difficulty. I can hop on my bike and ride 12 - 14 miles. I can swim 1200-1500 yards non-stop (or stopping only to take a sip of water.) I have had exactly 2 friends try to go swim laps with me. Neither of them has ever gone with me again. One friend said "damn, girl, how do you DO that?" My point here is that I am fitter than I appear. (or put another way - objects in this mirror, or any mirror actually, appear larger than they are...)
Lucky me, I get to live in the fit capital of the world too. I love Tampa, but when we first moved here, I thought "Great. I am the fattest mom in Tampa." Granted, Chase was only 5 months old then, so at least I had an excuse. But seriously - Tampa has some of the fittest moms I have ever seen. They're all tan and fit in their running shoes and tennis skirts. I can get tan, but I don't know about the rest.
So I do battle every day. I force myself to exercise and I try to watch what I eat. It doesn't seem to do much good, but the battle rages on. Every once in a while Bart drives me so nutty that I want to smack him upside the head. But I can't.
I might knock those pretty colored glasses off his head.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
What Do You Want To be When You Grown Up?
A couple of things have prompted this blog. My "baby" is entering Kindergarten this fall. Meaning both of my kids will now be in school full-time. As much as I have enjoyed my 5 years of naps and bon bons, it looks like it may be time for me to - dare I say it? - go back to work.
I don't really want to go back to work. And luckily for me, the current economic climate isn't exactly the best for job hunting. (yipee!) Then there's the challenge of finding something that is flexible enough for your family responsibilities, but still pays you enough to be worth your while.
And really...what DO I want to be when I grow up? I don't know. Do you remember that scene in "The Jungle Book" (the original one - not the sucky sequal with John Goodman as Baloo...) The part where the vultures are on the branches having a discussion. "Whatcha wanna do?" "I dunno, whatYOU wanna do?" Well, it's a little like that. I don't know. The one job I really loved required nights, weekends, and holidays, and really wouldn't even pay for my gas to get there and back.
You may be thinking to yourself "Ummm - newsflash sweetie, but you ARE grown up!" I guess I don't think of myself that way. Bart has a few of his friend's parents as Friends on his Facebook. I don't accept parents. Why? "Because I don't want any grown-ups on my Facebook account!" (Congratulations. All of you who read this and are friends on my Facebook account - you've just been demoted from "grown up" to "over-aged juvenile.")
Maybe that's why I like Disney World so much. You're not allowed to do anything but have fun there. Maybe that's why I'm recently obsessed with a quartet of books intended for college kids. Maybe that's why I have been known - in my adult life, even - to drink like a fish.
I am obviously going to have a REALLY hard time turning 40, which is in about 1 year and 2 months. UGH. So what AM I going to do?
Anyone? Bueller? Bueller? (Ah - yet another indicator of my advancing years - the Ferris Beuller joke...)
Sunday, March 1, 2009
I Done Good
OK. This has been a crazy week. Make that month. My 7 year old daughter is losing teeth faster than I can page the tooth fairy to get her butt over here. My "baby" boy turned 5 this week. F-I-V-E. I turned down a job. I - potentially - lined up an opportunity for another one. I threw a birthday party that included a large group of 5 and 6 year old boys beating each other with Lightsabers. Crazy month.
But I done good. (Please note the sarcasm is that statement - I know it's not grammatically correct...) Those of you who know me well know that, well, I'm a little bit of a control freak. And I don't handle stress well. And I'm a disaster zone in the kitchen. So a birthday party where I have to keep kids occupied, execute games, and provide food, all while trying to keep anyone from bleeding or having to go to the hospital...well, that's enough to put me right over the edge.
It started with the Lightsaber Pretzel Sticks. I went online (mistake #1) to find ideas for the party. One idea seemed cool, and simple enough: you dip large pretzel sticks on white chocolate (tinted green or blue), and make "lightsabers." You wrap a little bit of aluminum foil around the handle and - voila! Edible lightsabers! So I bought all the supplies and went to work. Batch #1 was melted in the microwave, per the instructions of the box of white chocolate. It sort-of melted, but was really clumpy. The lightsabers looked more like green caveman clubs. Batch #1 was done double-boiler style. (I had had success with this making buckeyes at Christmas.) You get a pot of boiling water, and put another pot on top. The top pot holds the chocolate. This batch never melted at all - just clumped up, and then burned. Batch #3 was done straight-up in a single pot, low temperature. on the oven. Burned, burned, burned.
NORMALLY this would send me into fits. But yesterday? I said "OK, we're just going to have plain pretzel sticks." And then I cleaned up the mess. I'm fairly certain Bart thought I was running a high fever or something.
Then - during the party - it was time for a game. But the kids all said "We don't wanna game! We want to lightsaber fight some more!" Is that mutiny in the ranks? What about my SCHEDULE??? Again, normally I would have freaked out. But I didn't. I let them play for a bit, and then suggested we do a "Jedi Test" (also known as a "game".) Smoooooooooooth sailing.
The pizza arrived 45 minuted early. Did I freak? No way Jose - I just put the boxes in the oven. (The oven was turned off, in order to avoid a repeat of an ill-fated moving day way back in 1999.)
We didn't even get to the final game, and we didn't get to open the presents. Hysterics? Nope. We just opened the presents later (which I prefer anyway), and now we have a fun little space-like water bottle filled with candy. (I'll probably bring this up to the school or something.)
I never remembered to put out the fruit that I had my sister bring with her. 4 kids didn't show. I didn't get a chance to put balloons on the lamp posts in the neighborhood. The glow necklaces didn't work 100% perfectly. I didn't get a chance to blow dry my hair out all pretty - had to go with a ponytail instead. I forgot to put out the glow straws when we handed out drinks. I ordered too much pizza. I wanted to touch up the paint in the foyer. I didn't get around to really cleaning up the backyard.
So I just let it go. Let. It. Go. Those of of you who know me well KNOW what a huge, gigantic, enormous step this was for me. I put on a party - at my house - and didn't lose it a single time during the day. Not once.
And you know what? CHASE HAD A GREAT TIME. I think all the kids had a great time. So we'll be eating pizza for 3 days - we like pizza. The glow necklaces worked good enough. I put the glow straws in the goodie bags. Everyone found the house without balloons on the lamp posts. We had plenty of kids in attendance. No one looked at my hair. The foyer and the yard were non-issues.
I let it go - it wasn't perfect, but it was good. So I won't be the talk of the class for throwing the "Best Birthday Party Ever". And newsflash: my house is NOT a showroom. And I like to wear ponytails. I won't even see most for these people ever again after Pre-school anyway. Perfection is over-rated anyway, right?
I think as Moms, we get so wrapped up in doing it all "perfectly." Like our kid will be scarred for life if Darth Vader himself doesn't show up at the party. How much do you remember from your 5th birthday? If anything, you're probably like me - you remember cake and friends. Don't remember where it was, do you? Or what you did? Or even who was there? Me neither. I guess I'm trying to make a point in here somewhere, something other than "I didn't lose my mind yesterday." Let. It. Go. It's not perfect, but it's good enough. Most everything is.
My son can look back, look at the 65 pictures I took, and say "Hey Mom, you remember when we had that cool Star Wars party for my birthday?" And I will.
(And thank God - no more birthday parties until June!)
But I done good. (Please note the sarcasm is that statement - I know it's not grammatically correct...) Those of you who know me well know that, well, I'm a little bit of a control freak. And I don't handle stress well. And I'm a disaster zone in the kitchen. So a birthday party where I have to keep kids occupied, execute games, and provide food, all while trying to keep anyone from bleeding or having to go to the hospital...well, that's enough to put me right over the edge.
It started with the Lightsaber Pretzel Sticks. I went online (mistake #1) to find ideas for the party. One idea seemed cool, and simple enough: you dip large pretzel sticks on white chocolate (tinted green or blue), and make "lightsabers." You wrap a little bit of aluminum foil around the handle and - voila! Edible lightsabers! So I bought all the supplies and went to work. Batch #1 was melted in the microwave, per the instructions of the box of white chocolate. It sort-of melted, but was really clumpy. The lightsabers looked more like green caveman clubs. Batch #1 was done double-boiler style. (I had had success with this making buckeyes at Christmas.) You get a pot of boiling water, and put another pot on top. The top pot holds the chocolate. This batch never melted at all - just clumped up, and then burned. Batch #3 was done straight-up in a single pot, low temperature. on the oven. Burned, burned, burned.
NORMALLY this would send me into fits. But yesterday? I said "OK, we're just going to have plain pretzel sticks." And then I cleaned up the mess. I'm fairly certain Bart thought I was running a high fever or something.
Then - during the party - it was time for a game. But the kids all said "We don't wanna game! We want to lightsaber fight some more!" Is that mutiny in the ranks? What about my SCHEDULE??? Again, normally I would have freaked out. But I didn't. I let them play for a bit, and then suggested we do a "Jedi Test" (also known as a "game".) Smoooooooooooth sailing.
The pizza arrived 45 minuted early. Did I freak? No way Jose - I just put the boxes in the oven. (The oven was turned off, in order to avoid a repeat of an ill-fated moving day way back in 1999.)
We didn't even get to the final game, and we didn't get to open the presents. Hysterics? Nope. We just opened the presents later (which I prefer anyway), and now we have a fun little space-like water bottle filled with candy. (I'll probably bring this up to the school or something.)
I never remembered to put out the fruit that I had my sister bring with her. 4 kids didn't show. I didn't get a chance to put balloons on the lamp posts in the neighborhood. The glow necklaces didn't work 100% perfectly. I didn't get a chance to blow dry my hair out all pretty - had to go with a ponytail instead. I forgot to put out the glow straws when we handed out drinks. I ordered too much pizza. I wanted to touch up the paint in the foyer. I didn't get around to really cleaning up the backyard.
So I just let it go. Let. It. Go. Those of of you who know me well KNOW what a huge, gigantic, enormous step this was for me. I put on a party - at my house - and didn't lose it a single time during the day. Not once.
And you know what? CHASE HAD A GREAT TIME. I think all the kids had a great time. So we'll be eating pizza for 3 days - we like pizza. The glow necklaces worked good enough. I put the glow straws in the goodie bags. Everyone found the house without balloons on the lamp posts. We had plenty of kids in attendance. No one looked at my hair. The foyer and the yard were non-issues.
I let it go - it wasn't perfect, but it was good. So I won't be the talk of the class for throwing the "Best Birthday Party Ever". And newsflash: my house is NOT a showroom. And I like to wear ponytails. I won't even see most for these people ever again after Pre-school anyway. Perfection is over-rated anyway, right?
I think as Moms, we get so wrapped up in doing it all "perfectly." Like our kid will be scarred for life if Darth Vader himself doesn't show up at the party. How much do you remember from your 5th birthday? If anything, you're probably like me - you remember cake and friends. Don't remember where it was, do you? Or what you did? Or even who was there? Me neither. I guess I'm trying to make a point in here somewhere, something other than "I didn't lose my mind yesterday." Let. It. Go. It's not perfect, but it's good enough. Most everything is.
My son can look back, look at the 65 pictures I took, and say "Hey Mom, you remember when we had that cool Star Wars party for my birthday?" And I will.
(And thank God - no more birthday parties until June!)
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