apparently I'm it

I'm notoriously bad at these meme things. I've only done two so far, but a not-your-typical-Mommy-blogger I read, Matter of Fact Mommy tagged me on this one, and since I bagged the last one she sent my way, I figured I'd better not let her down again, because I know she hasn't slept in weeks waiting for my responses on this one. Yeah.

Here we go:

What was I doing ten years ago? That would make it 1998... obviously... Well, I don't have the greatest of memories, but on this day, May 17, 1998, I was one week from my wedding, so I figure I was probably freaking out, binge eating and then being terrified I wouldn't fit into my dress. (Ah, to be that size again...) I'd say I was probably rechecking all the details for our small wedding for the 7,000th time and obsessing on what could go wrong. Oh yeah!! I was crazily checking any weather forecast that was available, because we were getting married outdoors, and I was terrified it would rain. Yes, so it was freaking out, overeating, obsessing, and general craziness 10 years ago. Basically just like any other day in the ten years since.

5 things on my "to do" list today: Well, let me just consult my handy-dandy typed to do list on the top of my personal clipboard. (The sad thing is, that one was NOT a joke... obsessing, remember?) The top five that were supposed to get done today:

1. make baby foods-- I cooked the sweet potatoes, and used some for dinner and put three packages in the freezer... apricots tomorrow.
2. catch up on my bloglines-- didn't read any today, or yesterday or the day before. Seriously, it's past overwhelming now that there are 134 posts to read. I may just scrap them all, and start over... lovely hubby and a friend of mine have been encouraging me to switch over to google reader, so that may piggyback on the catching up I have to do.
3. blog on MTE-- yeah! This one will be checked off soon. I haven't even looked at the other two blogs that I contribute to... that's for another day, I guess.
4. call urologists office re: bills-- yeah, the Big V was done four months ago, and the billing is all screwy, so I have to call an office and haggle on the bill for the procedure done on my husband's testicles. Does it surprise you to know that I've put this one off for another day?
5. S A P- figure out!-- this one has to remain top secret... at least for now...

Snacks I enjoy:

1. Chocolate. Next question, please.

Things I would do if I were a billionaire: Honestly, it sounds all typical and not very exciting, but...

1. I'd pay off all our bills. Mortgage, hubby's student loans, credit card.
2. Then I'd hook my parents up, BIG TIME. They'd be living a whole lot closer, they wouldn't have to work, and they could see their grandchildren just as it should be.
3. Then, I'd buy a really nice large vehicle, and I'd hire a chauffeur, and I'd never be forced to ask lovely hubby to drive us again. (No, I would not go back to driving school... unless I was able to spend half the cash on therapy to get over my insane phobia about driving...)
4. Then I'd lay the rest of the money out on the floor and roll around in it naked.

Just kidding.

I think.

5 places I have lived:

1. Bristol, CT
2. Plainville, CT
3. back to Bristol, CT
4. Farmington, CT
5. back to Plainville, CT
6. Plainfield, CT (that's just the first 12 years- and yes, we hit all the Plains CT has to offer)
7. then to college in Elmira, NY (four dorm rooms, plus one apartment with lovely-fiance-now-hubby)
8. sister-in-law's house in Landover, MD
9. 1st apartment in Laurel, MD
10. 2nd apartment in Beltsville, MD
11. 3rd apartment in Greenbelt, MD
12. and finally our 1st house in Greenbelt, MD. (Yeah, I know that's more than five... I've done a lot of living in places in my time...)

5 bad habits:

1. Chocolate
2. Biting my nails
3. Chocolate
4. Eating when I'm emotional
5. And... you guessed it, chocolate.

5 jobs I have had:

1. Babysitting-- my teenage summers were spent watching kids-- the two neighbor kids who were terrors, and the family with 5 kids are the ones that stick out most in my memory!
2. Factory worker-- yes, you read that correctly. The summer after freshman year in college, I spent 9.5 hours each and every day working in a lighting factory. The joys included checking recessed lighting shells for paint chips (and then using white-out to fill in any small ones... nice, huh?), putting together wires and other stuff I don't remember on the assembly line, and my all time favorite, sitting at a riveting machine punching holes in metal light things and then stacking them on palettes. Thousands and thousands of metal light things... must go suppress that memory...
3. Tutor-- in college I got paid to sit in the lounge of my dorm once a week for three hours and do homework while I waited for people-who-needed-tutoring to come find me. Two semesters of that. One student. One time. Ever. Good gig.
4. Office Manager-- for a small advertising agency here in Maryland. This was after a one-year stint as a preschool teacher, when I wasn't sure that I had picked the right profession. I decided to try out a workplace filled with adults rather than with four-year-olds. I discovered that the adults whined more often and were less productive than the previously mentioned four-year-olds. I left after five months.
5. Preschool Teacher-- for the last 9 years. I realized that the adult workplace was NOT for me, and I found an educational haven at the school where I spent the last 9 years with incredible little ones. Unfortunately, I also discovered that a preschool teacher's salary, even at a university-based laboratory school, simply cannot pay for child care for two babies. Fortunately, I then discovered that my education and attention and hard work can be put to good use right here at home with my own crazy kids. The pay sucks. The little bosses are freaking tyrants sometimes, but it's now the best job I've ever held. (Definitely beats the damn riveting machine!)

There you have it. More crap you didn't need to know about yours truly. And of course, it's supposed to be a short meme, but it's me who's writing the responses, so it goes on and on and on. I'm still not all that comfortable with tagging other people, so if anyone out there reads this and wants to jump on the meme bandwagon, be my guest and keep the love going with your very own post.

this week's guffaws, a very special Mother's Day edition

Okay, very special may be stretching it, but I have been cheesy enough here to go with a Mother's Day theme. Tonight's installment is kinda short, but I've actually played the Mother's Day card with lovely hubby, and I'm pretty sure there is a neck rub in store for me when I make over to the living room in a bit. (I love playing the Mother's Day card!) So, just a few funnies tonight with Mom in mind.

The first joke is sweet, but did make me giggle... very, VERY true in my life.

A teacher gave her class of second graders a lesson on the magnet and what
it does. The next day in a written test, she included this question: "My full
name has six letters. The first one is M. I pick up things. What am I?" When the
test papers were turned in, the teacher was astonished to find that almost 50
percent of the students answered the question with the word Mother.

Next up is from an email that's been going around since Al Gore invented the Internet, but it's funny still.

Mother's Dictionary of Meanings

Dumbwaiter: One who asks if the kids would care to order dessert.

Feedback: The inevitable result when the baby doesn't appreciate the strained carrots.

Full Name: What you call your child when you're mad at him.

Grandparents: The people who think your children are wonderful even though they're sure you're not raising them right.

Hearsay: What toddlers do when anyone mutters a dirty word.

Independent: How we want our children to be for as long as they do everything we say.

Puddle: A small body of water that draws other small bodies wearing dry shoes into it.

Show Off: A child who is more talented than yours.

Sterilize: What you do to your first baby's pacifier by boiling it, and to your last baby's pacifier by blowing on it and wiping it with saliva.

Top Bunk: Where you should never put a child wearing Superman jammies.

Two-Minute Warning: When the baby's face turns red and she begins to make those familiar-grunting noises.

Whodunit: None of the kids that live in your house.

Finally, this came to me a long time ago from a friend, and as I was cleaning up my crazy maxed out saved folder on my email, I came across it and laughed all over again. While it's not directly related to Moms, per se, I think a mom is the only person who could see this from her child and hold in the laughter long enough to not scar the child for life. Here is a kindergartner's drawing...

...of scissors, of course!!

Happy Mother's Day to you all!

magical reading... even for the 712th time...

Have you seen this book? The Magic Rabbit by Annette LeBlanc Cate is a current fave in our abode. The toddler received this book as a Christmas gift from a dear former colleague, who can only be described as the quintessential children's literature guru. She chooses the books for the semester long 'reading club' that children and families can participate in at my old school. This was on the fall list, and it was a brand new book to me a few months back. Now, after reading it approximately 712 times, I think I could recite it verbatim, even if I was stuffed up to my ears in a gigantic magician's hat.

I must say, much to my children's lit guru friend's credit, this is one fantastic book. The story is sweet and funny; the language is sophisticated, yet accessible to a young audience. The illustrations are just plain beautiful. Even though the book doesn't reveal the setting to be a real-life city, from the first time I opened the pages, a European city was called to mind. (Now, for full disclosure purposes, I've never travelled to Europe, so my impression could be WAY off... Paris came to mind, but maybe I was subconsciously swayed by the author's French-sounding name...).

All that aside, let me tell you that I have read this book aloud to the toddler every single day this week before nap. Each and every day, she has carried this book over to me, and I've had the voice go off in my head, "Aaarrrggg... not that book again... ugh..." I even heard myself saying aloud, "Mommy is tired of this book. Can we read a different book?" Then the other voice in my head would say, "You know toddlers need to hear stories over and over again- this is how they make sense of them. They purposely seek out repetition. This is the right thing to do!" (Wow, you might be asking yourself just how many voices there are in my head.) I know this, my early childhood background can attest to this, so I've had to just suck it up and read the darn book again and again.

But then... each day, I'd get a page or two into the story and I'd find myself enjoying it all over again. After so many readings, I've gotten very comfortable with my literary additions-- sounds, exclamations and expressions that aren't necessarily in the book's print, but have now become second nature to the reading. The toddler knows her parts, as well, as she points out where the magician, Ray, stands by a street light when they are separated from each other, or when she excitedly calls out, "BUNNY!" as they are reunited in the end. (It's okay to give away an ending to a picture book, right?) The excitement level only grows with each reading, and I think that is a major testament to this delightful book.

If you have a young child, let me give a resounding recommendation that you jet over to your local library and check this one out. The toddler and I are sure you'll enjoy it!

tremendously terrific OR terribly tantrum-y twos... depends on the hour...

The toddler is officially two years old. (We have a picture of the big kid on his 2nd birthday also holding up those two fingers... sometimes they are freakishly similiar...) Boy, oh boy. She's like an unpredictable weather front-- one minute she's all sunshiney and pleasant, and you're thinking, Wow, I am really enjoying this day. And then... the clouds roll in suddenly, and you're confronted with a powerful storm front that you totally didn't see coming. Oh yeah, she's two.

We had a birthday party with some dear friends on Sunday, at a park, and I was more thankful than words can express that the weather was beautiful. It was on this day that we showered the little one with cake, and rounds of Happy Birthday (her new favorite song) , and she came to believe that the world truly does revolve around her. Her moods were all over the board, as per usual, and these photos can attest to that fact.

Now, I'm no Martha Stewart, but I must say that I was kinda pleased with the cute cake-that-was-blatantly-stolen-from-online-ideas-in-order-to-make. The toddler has been recently interested in ladybugs, so the cake, of course, had to fit the theme. (The only other matching things were the 2 red and black streamers on the tree near the picnic tables and the red plates and cups. Like I said, no Martha Stewart!)

The downside to this kind of cake... or to be more specific, these types of frosting?

Thankfully, the frosting stains only for a few hours... at least for our kids... haven't heard from anyone else that their children are still walking around with intensely pink or black lips or teeth. Yum.

Since her actual birthday was on Thursday, a work/school day for the boys, we did a simple blueberry-muffin-with-candles-birthday-thing in the morning. And, the big event of the day was the revealing of her birthday present from us. The first trike. She was more than thrilled to ride it Thursday morning for a bit, but of course, then it began to rain and has been doing so steadily for over 24 hours now. So, she has longingly stood at the window only a few times today saying, "I want to ride my bicycle!!" Only a few times.

To wrap up this little lovefest, I want to share with you a video of the little birthday girl. This video showcases many of the things I often talk about when I gab on and on about the toddler. It shows her talking up a storm, as she does all. day. long. It also displays her Grumpy Gus faces. A wonderful little drama queen episode is included. And, best of all, it shows me totally underestimating her understanding of things, as I try to correct her on something when I'm totally incorrect. It's quite humbling to be proved wrong by a two year old.

Oh yeah, and the Blair Witch snot drip at the end is classy, too.

poetry and motion

Okay, maybe not exactly poetry, but the other day the toddler was talking to me, and I couldn't quite understand what she was talking about. (Not that uncommon of an occurrence.) So, I kept asking her to repeat it, and finally I got that she was talking about walking to her big brother's bus stop with Daddy that morning, and she said she stepped on the water mountain.

Me: "Did you say a water mountain?"
Her: "YES!!" (said with great relief at finally being understood)
Me: (thinking, thinking...) "Ohhhh. Do you mean there was water on the ground?"
Her: "Yes- lots of water!"
Me: "That's called a puddle. (although I must say that water mountain sounds a lot more picturesque)

In other word-news, last week the big kid came bounding off the bus all worked up (also not that uncommon of an occurrence) . He was ticked off at some kid in his class, because, as he said, "He called me the D-word and the I-word." Now, I'm well versed in my curse words, but I couldn't come up with an I-word, and the only D-word I got was damn, but how do you call someone that? Pressed for greater detail, he revealed, "You know, a dork and an idiot!" Ah, yes, those words.

Now for the motion. That would be me in motion-- doing the Evil DVD at least 3-4 times a week, walking like a woman-who-doesn't-drive-but-needs-to-get-the-kids-out-of-the-house, and feeling core muscles that I didn't even know existed before. Nice. If you're interested, my Fatty McFatterson update is posted at the Fitness-A-Long.

Look at that, I can tell three different stories, and NOT post a page and a half... huh.

this week's guffaws

Before we commence with the funnies, let me update you all on our window woes. In fact, woe is NOT us. All in all, the situation was for the best, because by the end of the day, just in time for us to leave for the big kid's baseball game, the glass was cleaned up (although we continue to find tiny pieces still...), and we had a brand-spankin-new window, with no money coming out of the bank account. Not too shabby. The window is so clean and unmarred by paint smudges or the other random spots like its predecessor, that I am actually unnerved each and every time I walk by. The flower garden right outside looks so amazingly vibrant that it is as if there is no glass in the frame. Very, very nice.

This weekend has been as busy as usual, and today we celebrated the toddler's 2nd birthday. As her actual birthday is on Thursday, you can fully expect a sappy birthday tribute to my little girl then, complete with silly pictures of her covered in pinkish/reddish frosting. Oh yeah, be forewarned, the cuteness factor will be through the roof. I'm just saying.

Alrighty. Onto this week's guffaws. The credits for these email jokes go to my dear friend Leslie (who secretly wants to start a blog chronicling her dating (mis)adventures... I know it... help me convince her... it would be way funny, as she has had some humdingers...) and to my mother (who used to read my blog, but she goes online like once a week and complains that I write too much for her to keep up...). They are both notorious for sending some doozy emails, and these are a few that made me chuckle this week.

The first is an email that has gone around for a while, but still makes me laugh (yeah, yeah, so I see myself in many of these, back off lovely husband).

9 WORDS WOMEN USE

(1) Fine: This is the word women use to end an argument when they are right and you need to shut up.

(2) Five Minutes: If she is getting dressed, this means a half an hour. Five minutes is only five minutes if you have just been given five more minutes to watch the game before helping around the house.

(3) Nothing: This is the calm before the storm. This means something, and you should be on your toes. Arguments that begin with nothing usually end in fine.

(4) Go Ahead: This is a dare, not permission. Don't Do It!

(5) Loud Sigh: This is actually a word, but is a non-verbal statement often misunderstood by men. A loud sigh means she thinks you are an idiot and wonders why she is wasting her time standing here and arguing with you about nothing. (Refer back to # 3 for the meaning of nothing.)

(6) That's Okay: This is one of the most dangerous statements a women can make to a man. That's okay means she wants to think long and hard before deciding how and when you will pay for your mistake.

(7) Thanks: A woman is thanking you, do not question, or Faint. Just say you're welcome. (I want to add in a clause here - This is true, unless she says 'Thanks a lot' - that is PURE sarcasm and she is not thanking you at all. DO NOT say 'you're welcome' ... that will bring on a 'whatever').

(8) Whatever: Is a women's way of saying Screw You!

(9) Don't worry about it, I got it: Another dangerous statement, meaning this is something that a woman has told a man to do several times, but is now doing it herself. This will later result in a man asking 'What's wrong?' For the woman's response refer to # 3.

The next one is probably not at all true, but the email that goes around says that these are questions submitted to Dear Abby, that even she found unanswerable.

Dear Abby, A couple of women moved in across the hall from me. One is a middle-aged gym teacher and the other is a social worker in her mid twenties. These two women go everywhere together and I've never seen a man go into or leave their apartment. Do you think they could be Lebanese?

Dear Abby, What can I do about all the sex, nudity, fowl language and violence on my VCR?

Dear Abby, I have a man I can't trust. He cheats so much, I'm not even sure the baby I'm carrying is his.

Dear Abby, I've suspected that my husband has been fooling around, and when confronted with the evidence, he denied everything and said it would never happen again.

Dear Abby, Our son writes that he is taking Judo. Why would a boy who was raised in a good Christian home turn against his own?

Dear Abby, I joined the Navy to see the world. I've seen it. Now how do I get out?

Dear Abby, My forty year old son has been paying a psychiatrist $50.00 an hour every week for two and a half years. He must be crazy.

Dear Abby, I was married to Bill for three months and I didn't know he drank until one night he came home sober.

Dear Abby, My mother is mean and short tempered I think she is going through mental pause.

Dear Abby, You told some woman whose husband had lost all interest in sex to send him to a doctor. Well, my husband lost all interest in sex and he is a doctor. Now what do I do?

This one cracked me up, and I didn't see the end coming at all.

Toward the end of Sunday service, the Minister asked, "How many of you have forgiven your enemies?" 80% held up their hands. The Minister then repeated his question. All responded this time, except one small, elderly lady.

"Mrs. Hansen? Are you not willing to forgive your enemies?"

"I don't have any," she replied, smiling sweetly.

"Mrs. Hansen, that is very unusual. How old are you?"

"Ninety-eight," she replied.

"Oh, Mrs. Hansen, would you please come down in front and tell us all how a person can live ninety-eight years and not have an enemy in the world?"

The little sweetheart of a lady tottered down the aisle, faced the congregation, and said:

"I outlived the bitches."

Okay, this last one features some pics from a book, deceivingly titled Porn for Women. You have to think a little out of the box for this-- think eye candy boys doing things we'd all love to see the men in our life do on a regular basis. Yup, ladies, that's right. Dishes, vacuuming, getting up in the middle of the night with the kids. Funny stuff.

Well, that's it folks. This week will bring more baseball games (which means more sandwich-dinners, yippee!), more job interviews for lovely husband (think positive thoughts for him, my friends, as the stress level is skyrocketing), my baby girl turning two (WHAT?!), and Mother's Day to finish off the week (which hopefully means a morning of a little sleeping in for moi... are you reading, lovely hubby?!). I hope the week brings you smiles.

take me out to the madhouse

As today is the official 100th anniversary of one of my kids' favorite songs Take Me Out to the Ballgame, a post about baseball seems only appropriate. A post about the great fun that can be had a little league game, for instance. A post about the joys of watching the kids' faces as they join their new teammates on the field and run into each other as they all try to catch the same ball. A post about sitting on the bleachers with the other parents and giggling together at the on-field antics.

Yeah, that would have been nice.

Instead, here is a post about one of the people who has frustrated and disgusted me at the big kid's baseball games these past few weeks. I'd like to write this as a cathartic letter to the dad of one of the big kid's teammates. Here goes:

Dear Dad-who-doesn't-get-it,

Hello there. It's me, the mom of the kid who's on your son's team. You know, the one who you find the need to constantly give unsolicited 'advice' to, the wife of the guy who told you in no uncertain terms to simply back off. I'm the one who spends her time trying to watch the game while balancing a baby on her hip and chasing after a ridiculously energetic toddler. I'm also the one who has been watching your son very closely during these games. I think I might have a few pointers for you.

I get it. You like baseball. It is obviously very important to you. The thing is... I'm not sure your son shares your level of interest. Yeah, he looks like he has fun joking around with the other kids on the bench-- have you noticed his enjoyment when you repeatedly yell at him to sit down? When it's his turn at bat, are you aware that he sees you each and every time you shake your head at his strikes? You must be, because you yell instructions at him with every pitch. My guess is that he is just swinging that bat way before the ball even comes at him simply to shorten the amount of time he has to stand at home plate.

But, tonight, Clueless Dad, you missed the boat big time. All of your sharp-toned 'directions' pale in comparison to your action tonight. The way-too-obvious disappointment on your face at all previous games ranks nowhere near your stupidity on this evening.

Just in case you forgot, here's how it happened. Your son was up at bat. He was swinging half-heartedly, missing ball after ball, and you were standing at the fence dramatically shaking your head. Then it happened. The ball and the bat made contact. Audible contact, and the ball ricocheted forward. For a split second, your son looked as if he didn't know what to do, but he dropped the bat and booked it to first base. The other parents and I erupted in cheers. It was fantastic. Even with my old-prescription-glasses, I could see the smile on your son's face way across the field.

Then, I'm not exactly sure how the rest of the inning went- remember the baby and toddler are vying for my attention as well- but the time came when the team was coming back to get their gloves and your son ran up to you, absolutely beaming.

"Are you happy I hit the ball, Dad?"

The question was asked so freaking earnestly. The undertone was painstakingly apparent-- did I make you happy?

Do you remember, Dad-who-made-me-nauseous, how you responded?

"Go put the helmet away!"

Yup, those were your words. As I was standing only a few feet away, I could hear and see the scene as clear as day. I saw your son hesitate for a moment before he gave you one more chance at redemption. He stopped and asked you the same exact question one last time.

How did you handle that? Did you realize what your son was asking you, asking of you? Yeah, you see where this is going. You repeated your initial command, in your surly voice, punctuated with a fiercely pointed finger.

Can you picture your son at this point? Did you even take the moment to look at him? If not, I can tell you, as my eyes were glued to him. His head literally dropped and he moved away from you to follow your direction. He knew what to do. You, however, dropped the ball in a major, major way.

I could lecture you on what all the 'experts' say about youth sports. I could try to impress upon you the importance of teaching good sportsmanship, love of the game, personal goals and skill improvement, the whole shebang. I could emphasize the value that you, as a volunteering parent, represent to your son and his teammates. I could do all of this, but I can't say that I'm all that confident it would make any difference. I think you have too much in common with those idiotic 'coaches' of the other team who take this whole thing WAY TOO SERIOUSLY. In my humble, non-sporty-person opinion, you all are way off base in this coaching mentality.

Let me just put in simple, easy to understand terms. You are really bringing me down two nights a week. You are causing actual pains in my stomach. You are making my blood boil, to the point that I have to walk away and find my husband to complain to.

I'm sure none of that matters to you, because let's be honest, you don't know me from any other random baseball mom on the sidelines. So, take me out of the equation, and you're still left with one very important observation. Above all else, you are ruining the game of baseball for your son.

Something tells me that statement carries a lot more weight with you than any of the others. If baseball is as important to you as it appears, on a personal level, on a cultural level, then man, you better get your act together.

I'll leave you with my sincere wish for you to take a step out of your body and watch how the scene plays out at the next game. Watch your son's face, watch him watch you. Really observe what effects your dramatics have on your son's demeanor. Think, for just a moment, of the probable thoughts going on in your son's head. And ask yourself, was this my goal when I filled out that registration form?

Sincerely,
The mom who's really ticked off, but genuinely cares about the welfare of your child.

So, there you have it. Don't get me wrong, I've been having a blast watching the big kid run with a group of new-to-him kids, clapping for other players, and high-fiving his teammates over a good play. It's a whole new arena for him, and for me, and it really makes me think of him as this kid who is growing up. That being said, I really just needed to get this off my chest. Don't even get me started on the 'coaches' of the team we played tonight. Suffice it to say that the intensity of these guys is way disproportionate to the reality of 7 & 8 year old baseball. Someone needs to send them the memo that there are no actual scouts in the bleachers. Chill, dudes. Seriously.

I figure that this is only the beginning chapter of my life as a baseball mom, and I am pretty positive that it will not be the last time that I am angered or frustrated by the supposed adults involved with youth sports. But, I felt it had to be said.

I feel a little better now. Catharsis is a good thing.