Or alternatively titled, Time-to-get-off-the-computer-and-out-of-the-chair-and-spend-spring-break-with-your-children
So I'm going to do just that.
See you next week.
Monday, March 16, 2009
More Photos by Adam
Or alternatively titled, Time-to-get-off-the-computer-and-out-of-the-chair-and-spend-spring-break-with-your-children
So I'm going to do just that.
See you next week.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Sunday, March 08, 2009
Weird, Revisited
So the birthday and party have come and gone. Good-bye seven, Hello eight. New numbers, new presents, but same old shit. If you've been reading me forever, like Tracey, then you already know where this post is going.
What the hell is wrong with people?
Okay, now I can begin.
I didn't really know what to do about the party invitations this year. When Jacob was in kindergarten we invited the entire class. He in turn was invited to twelve other little parties and as a result of that and the afternoon play dates, the kids and their parents formed some bonds. The class was close. Jacob had fourteen other kids who accepted him for his quirks and their parents who loved him just for him. In first grade, not so much. Oh, he still had his kindergarten three to look out for him, but the new kids weren't as understanding and neither were their parents. Only the kindergarten kids came to his party although I invited the entire class. He only got six party invitations last year. Now he's in second grade with only one other kindergarten kid in his class. He hasn't been invited to any parties. Since half the kids have already turned eight, I figured he was being excluded some, but I talked myself into thinking that maybe not everyone has parties and two were over the holiday break so he wasn't really missing much. Was he?
Well, turns out he really was.
In early February when I began putting this shindig together, Jacob and I went to the party store to pick out invitations (Star Wars, go figure) and I was doing the math in my head to figure out how many packs we needed to invite the entire class plus his new neighborhood friends and he about had meltdown. "I DO NOT want to invite G or C or even K to my party! They are MEAN to me" and then the pent up anxieties and frustrations of six months of recess torment came spilling out for all the customers and employees to hear. WOW. I had no idea. Now, don't go thinking I was oblivious because I didn't care. I've had conferences with the teacher and inquired daily to the son and all I got was "Everything's great. I love school." Okey-dokey then.
So apparently G and C and K have deemed Jacob "weird" and do things like steal his shoes and spit on his papers and punch him in the gut when he's trying to use the bathroom. All of this happens at recess. Usually. Obviously the teacher doesn't see this because she doesn't do recess. That's her planning time. They have parent volunteers who do recess. I asked Jacob if he told the recess teacher he was getting hurt and he said when he did, he was told he was being rude and made to run laps for twenty minutes. And then she told him he was being "weird" when he ran off to run. The parent volunteer just happens to be K's mom. Uh-huh.
Yes, yes, yes. I told the teacher about this and she said she spoke with all involved and they all denied it and, really, what can she do? She wasn't there. No one can prove it except my son and he's "weird" and I guess a side effect of "weird" is lying. At least to them.
Okay, so I've run off on a little tangent here. Yada, yada, yada, Jacob isn't as accepted as I thought he was, whatever, we can deal.
Anyway. The invitations. So Jacob is desperate not to have these three kids IN. HIS. NEW. HOUSE. OH. GAWD. THE. HORRORS! So I tell him I'll figure something out. So I meet with his teacher to ask for suggestions. I told her the deal. I wanted to know if the kids talked party shop in their down time because if so, I was inviting the entire class. I didn't want anyone to feel left out because they weren't invited. And that's when she proceeded to tell me that, well, that kid and that kid and that one over there and she and she and he all had parties and everyone in the class was invited. Their parents said so.
Everyone, that is, except Jacob. And his little kindergarten buddy.
Little kindergarten buddy's mom and I. We be pissed.
I mean. WTF? This is CHRISTIAN SCHOOL?
Disclaimer: I love the education and attention my son is receiving at the christian school. He will continue to go there for as long as we think it is doing him good. and we do think it is doing him good. The other kids? Eh. Please don't suggest we take him away from there. He may be eaten anywhere else.
So anyway, I pretty much then sat down with him, eliminated the kids who already had birthdays plus the kids who didn't invite him last year and that left me with four boys. And one was little kindergarten buddy. I mailed the invitations to their homes. I only received an RSVP from K buddy's mom where we spent an hour wasting my cell minutes wondering WHY? WHY? WHY?
And then last Monday Jacob comes home from school in a pretty chipper mood and says,
Jacob: "Ch... can't come to my party, but he says he's still my friend. He's my best friend at school, Mom. I like him and he's really nice to me and he doesn't listen to G, C, and K when they tell him not to like me"
And from what I've seen of the kid, he IS really friendly and good to Jacob.
Me: "Well, that's okay, Jacob. Sometimes people have things to do on the weekends."
Jacob: "Chr.. had his birthday party last weekend. He said he couldn't invite me because there was not enough room in his house. I told him that was okay that we had a big house and he could come to our house sometime."
Me: (in my head) HE WASN'T INVITED TO ANOTHER FRICKING PARTY? "Yes, baby. If you want Ch... to come play one day I'll call his mom and arrange it. Maybe over spring break"
Jacob: "Everyone else in class went to Ch... party. Even G and C and K. Even THE GIRLS. But there wasn't enough room for me and E (little K buddy) Ch...' mom said so."
Me: "Uh-huh"
And then a few days later, Jacob came to sit by me while I wasplaying scavenger hunt getting things done and said this to me:
Jacob: "E told me today that he asked the other kids why they called me weird and stuff and G and C told him it was because I was stupid and weird things made me happy and I have too many warts. (He does have a slew of mosaic warts all over his fingers. He got them from Laura. We've never minded them until, well, that very second) And they told him they would be friends with him if he stopped being friends with me.
Me: (Must. Call. Parents) "I'm sorry. You feel bad about that huh?"
Jacob: "Yeah, but I feel bad for E too. I don't want him to miss out on being friends with them because of me"
Me: Nothing. I had nothing.
I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and sob like like a tiny baby.
When I composed myself we looked up warts on the wikipedia (where I found out just what kind of warts we were dealing with) and am making an appointment with the pediatrician and dermatologist tomorrow. I know removing those horrible warts aren't going to instantly make him accepted, but at least that is something I can fix for him right now in this moment.
Then he told me some other things about how last year's best buddy can only be friends with him on play dates and parties because he doesn't want the other kids to think he's weird for being friends with him. Apparently he no longer talks to him at all at school. I was ticked about that at first and wanted to call his mom who is my friend and tell her what was going on. But I realized, hey, many adults are intolerant of differences and look the other way with the same fears. How can I expect a seven year old to stand up and take a stand for his friend? Then I had to go and sob for first grade friend. How horrible for him.
Jacob had a blast at his party. All his neighborhood friends (plus two cousins who weren't invited) came and the jumpy house man got caught in traffic so we jumped for two extra hours. He has enough new Lego sets to last him until summer vacation. His best kindergarten buddies were here and played Star Wars not because they wanted to, but because it was Jacob's birthday and they knew HE wanted to. He had the huge cookie instead of cake just like he requested. Blue frosting and all. For an excited eight year old, he was very well behaved.
And when I tucked him bed last night I let him know that I was pleased with his behavior and he wanted to know if I thought he was weird. I mean, what do you say to that? I told him I thought weird was another way of saying unique. Unique is good. Unique makes you, you. You can be whoever you want to be. You can do whatever makes YOU happy. And maybe other people are weird for not knowing that.
I guess we're all a little weird.
What the hell is wrong with people?
Okay, now I can begin.
I didn't really know what to do about the party invitations this year. When Jacob was in kindergarten we invited the entire class. He in turn was invited to twelve other little parties and as a result of that and the afternoon play dates, the kids and their parents formed some bonds. The class was close. Jacob had fourteen other kids who accepted him for his quirks and their parents who loved him just for him. In first grade, not so much. Oh, he still had his kindergarten three to look out for him, but the new kids weren't as understanding and neither were their parents. Only the kindergarten kids came to his party although I invited the entire class. He only got six party invitations last year. Now he's in second grade with only one other kindergarten kid in his class. He hasn't been invited to any parties. Since half the kids have already turned eight, I figured he was being excluded some, but I talked myself into thinking that maybe not everyone has parties and two were over the holiday break so he wasn't really missing much. Was he?
Well, turns out he really was.
In early February when I began putting this shindig together, Jacob and I went to the party store to pick out invitations (Star Wars, go figure) and I was doing the math in my head to figure out how many packs we needed to invite the entire class plus his new neighborhood friends and he about had meltdown. "I DO NOT want to invite G or C or even K to my party! They are MEAN to me" and then the pent up anxieties and frustrations of six months of recess torment came spilling out for all the customers and employees to hear. WOW. I had no idea. Now, don't go thinking I was oblivious because I didn't care. I've had conferences with the teacher and inquired daily to the son and all I got was "Everything's great. I love school." Okey-dokey then.
So apparently G and C and K have deemed Jacob "weird" and do things like steal his shoes and spit on his papers and punch him in the gut when he's trying to use the bathroom. All of this happens at recess. Usually. Obviously the teacher doesn't see this because she doesn't do recess. That's her planning time. They have parent volunteers who do recess. I asked Jacob if he told the recess teacher he was getting hurt and he said when he did, he was told he was being rude and made to run laps for twenty minutes. And then she told him he was being "weird" when he ran off to run. The parent volunteer just happens to be K's mom. Uh-huh.
Yes, yes, yes. I told the teacher about this and she said she spoke with all involved and they all denied it and, really, what can she do? She wasn't there. No one can prove it except my son and he's "weird" and I guess a side effect of "weird" is lying. At least to them.
Okay, so I've run off on a little tangent here. Yada, yada, yada, Jacob isn't as accepted as I thought he was, whatever, we can deal.
Anyway. The invitations. So Jacob is desperate not to have these three kids IN. HIS. NEW. HOUSE. OH. GAWD. THE. HORRORS! So I tell him I'll figure something out. So I meet with his teacher to ask for suggestions. I told her the deal. I wanted to know if the kids talked party shop in their down time because if so, I was inviting the entire class. I didn't want anyone to feel left out because they weren't invited. And that's when she proceeded to tell me that, well, that kid and that kid and that one over there and she and she and he all had parties and everyone in the class was invited. Their parents said so.
Everyone, that is, except Jacob. And his little kindergarten buddy.
Little kindergarten buddy's mom and I. We be pissed.
I mean. WTF? This is CHRISTIAN SCHOOL?
Disclaimer: I love the education and attention my son is receiving at the christian school. He will continue to go there for as long as we think it is doing him good. and we do think it is doing him good. The other kids? Eh. Please don't suggest we take him away from there. He may be eaten anywhere else.
So anyway, I pretty much then sat down with him, eliminated the kids who already had birthdays plus the kids who didn't invite him last year and that left me with four boys. And one was little kindergarten buddy. I mailed the invitations to their homes. I only received an RSVP from K buddy's mom where we spent an hour wasting my cell minutes wondering WHY? WHY? WHY?
And then last Monday Jacob comes home from school in a pretty chipper mood and says,
Jacob: "Ch... can't come to my party, but he says he's still my friend. He's my best friend at school, Mom. I like him and he's really nice to me and he doesn't listen to G, C, and K when they tell him not to like me"
And from what I've seen of the kid, he IS really friendly and good to Jacob.
Me: "Well, that's okay, Jacob. Sometimes people have things to do on the weekends."
Jacob: "Chr.. had his birthday party last weekend. He said he couldn't invite me because there was not enough room in his house. I told him that was okay that we had a big house and he could come to our house sometime."
Me: (in my head) HE WASN'T INVITED TO ANOTHER FRICKING PARTY? "Yes, baby. If you want Ch... to come play one day I'll call his mom and arrange it. Maybe over spring break"
Jacob: "Everyone else in class went to Ch... party. Even G and C and K. Even THE GIRLS. But there wasn't enough room for me and E (little K buddy) Ch...' mom said so."
Me: "Uh-huh"
And then a few days later, Jacob came to sit by me while I was
Jacob: "E told me today that he asked the other kids why they called me weird and stuff and G and C told him it was because I was stupid and weird things made me happy and I have too many warts. (He does have a slew of mosaic warts all over his fingers. He got them from Laura. We've never minded them until, well, that very second) And they told him they would be friends with him if he stopped being friends with me.
Me: (Must. Call. Parents) "I'm sorry. You feel bad about that huh?"
Jacob: "Yeah, but I feel bad for E too. I don't want him to miss out on being friends with them because of me"
Me: Nothing. I had nothing.
I had to excuse myself to the bathroom and sob like like a tiny baby.
When I composed myself we looked up warts on the wikipedia (where I found out just what kind of warts we were dealing with) and am making an appointment with the pediatrician and dermatologist tomorrow. I know removing those horrible warts aren't going to instantly make him accepted, but at least that is something I can fix for him right now in this moment.
Then he told me some other things about how last year's best buddy can only be friends with him on play dates and parties because he doesn't want the other kids to think he's weird for being friends with him. Apparently he no longer talks to him at all at school. I was ticked about that at first and wanted to call his mom who is my friend and tell her what was going on. But I realized, hey, many adults are intolerant of differences and look the other way with the same fears. How can I expect a seven year old to stand up and take a stand for his friend? Then I had to go and sob for first grade friend. How horrible for him.
Jacob had a blast at his party. All his neighborhood friends (plus two cousins who weren't invited) came and the jumpy house man got caught in traffic so we jumped for two extra hours. He has enough new Lego sets to last him until summer vacation. His best kindergarten buddies were here and played Star Wars not because they wanted to, but because it was Jacob's birthday and they knew HE wanted to. He had the huge cookie instead of cake just like he requested. Blue frosting and all. For an excited eight year old, he was very well behaved.
And when I tucked him bed last night I let him know that I was pleased with his behavior and he wanted to know if I thought he was weird. I mean, what do you say to that? I told him I thought weird was another way of saying unique. Unique is good. Unique makes you, you. You can be whoever you want to be. You can do whatever makes YOU happy. And maybe other people are weird for not knowing that.
I guess we're all a little weird.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Happy Eighth Birthday Jacob!
Jacob at one....
two...
three...
four...
five...
six...
seven....
and eight.
Lub, lub little man
two...
three...
four...
five...
six...
seven....
and eight.
Lub, lub little man
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Angel Food is Good
It's been a long, exhausting week.
My husband comes home today, but I'm not really happy to see him.
I'm mad at him. And I don't know when I'll stop being mad at him. In fact, mad doesn't really describe it. Disgusted is more like it.
I'm tired. My body hurts. And I have the eighth birthday on Wednesday, not to mention the party on Saturday. Did I mention I was tired?
So this may be my only post this week.
But I couldn't let the week pass without sharing this with you.
Do you know about Angel Food Ministries?
Go ahead, check it out. I'll wait while you see if they have a distribution site in your area. You should really see if they do.
For $55.00, two men loaded two boxes of food into my car. I didn't even have to get out. In those two boxes were:
4--6oz sirloin steaks
2 lb boneless chicken breast
4 boneless pork chops
2 lb chicken nuggets
Salisbury Steak frozen entry
12oz bacon
l lb beef hotdogs
1 lb frozen stir fry veggies
1 lb carrots
32oz Shelf Stable Milk
35 oz Crinkle cut fries
Mac and Cheese box
1 lb rice
1 lb bean soup mix
Dozen eggs
3lb russet potatoes
3 lb sweet potatoes
2lb onions
l lb carrots
1 cabbage
3 lb red delicious apples
2 Anjou pears
1 Pineapple
4 gala apples
4 oranges
and half a vanilla cream bundt cake
But we no longer have the bundt cake because the kids and I ate it all. I didn't feel like sharing it with him.
How cool is that?
I can do alot with that.
But since a grocery list isn't everyone's idea of good blogging, you can check here for my personal grocery game posts.
But I totally won't talk about how I went on a huge shopping spree to drown my aching sorrows last week. I did find some great deals hitting every resale shop in town, but it cost me. Or rather, it cost the husband, but you know, they say shopping makes you feel better. Or it's symptom of depression, or something. I just figured if my husband got to slap down the cash for a last minute plane ticket, the kids and I could have fun at the Lego store. I mean, I'm just saying.
But that doesn't count.
And now we'll go eat pineapple. Before the plane lands.
My husband comes home today, but I'm not really happy to see him.
I'm mad at him. And I don't know when I'll stop being mad at him. In fact, mad doesn't really describe it. Disgusted is more like it.
I'm tired. My body hurts. And I have the eighth birthday on Wednesday, not to mention the party on Saturday. Did I mention I was tired?
So this may be my only post this week.
But I couldn't let the week pass without sharing this with you.
Do you know about Angel Food Ministries?
Go ahead, check it out. I'll wait while you see if they have a distribution site in your area. You should really see if they do.
For $55.00, two men loaded two boxes of food into my car. I didn't even have to get out. In those two boxes were:
4--6oz sirloin steaks
2 lb boneless chicken breast
4 boneless pork chops
2 lb chicken nuggets
Salisbury Steak frozen entry
12oz bacon
l lb beef hotdogs
1 lb frozen stir fry veggies
1 lb carrots
32oz Shelf Stable Milk
35 oz Crinkle cut fries
Mac and Cheese box
1 lb rice
1 lb bean soup mix
Dozen eggs
3lb russet potatoes
3 lb sweet potatoes
2lb onions
l lb carrots
1 cabbage
3 lb red delicious apples
2 Anjou pears
1 Pineapple
4 gala apples
4 oranges
and half a vanilla cream bundt cake
But we no longer have the bundt cake because the kids and I ate it all. I didn't feel like sharing it with him.
How cool is that?
I can do alot with that.
But since a grocery list isn't everyone's idea of good blogging, you can check here for my personal grocery game posts.
But I totally won't talk about how I went on a huge shopping spree to drown my aching sorrows last week. I did find some great deals hitting every resale shop in town, but it cost me. Or rather, it cost the husband, but you know, they say shopping makes you feel better. Or it's symptom of depression, or something. I just figured if my husband got to slap down the cash for a last minute plane ticket, the kids and I could have fun at the Lego store. I mean, I'm just saying.
But that doesn't count.
And now we'll go eat pineapple. Before the plane lands.
Monday, February 23, 2009
I Really Hate to Complain But.....
It's Monday and I'm blogging.
Amazing, isn't it?
I usually clean pretty well on Monday, but I figured, hey, the mess doesn't bother the kids and I could learn to live with it for a week since the one person I keep the house clean for won't be here all week.
Yes, that's right. The husband will be gone all week.
That poor, poor man. His job. It does suck. His boss. He does hate him. His hours. They are long.
But he's not going on a business trip. Oh no.
He's going to Colorado skiing with a friend.
Because, how did he put it? He'd go cccrrraaazzzyy if he didn't get away from here.
And by here he meant HERE. Our house. Our family.
You know, because we drive him so fricking crazy for those twenty or thirty minutes he actually sees any of us in a day.
He deserves it, really, because he works so hard to make money so that WE can live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood and eat. Oh. My. Gawd. The nerve of us to do all the eating that we do. And we play, play, play all day. There is much laughing and happiness, why shoot, our every day is nothing but lazy, delightful vacation days because what I do cannot be considered work. NO. How so very lucky I am to watch television and go shopping every day! I am living the life of Riley. Oh, yes I am.
That's two vacations in two months, you know, if you're keeping track.
And that's seven vacations to my zero. Oh, but I forget. My whole life is a vacation.
I totally get that my husband hates his job and wants some time away. Boy, do I get that. I want him to have that time away, really, because he does deserve it because he does work in a crappy job he hates to keep a roof over our heads. I am not, though, understanding why he cannot eat dinner with us, like, ever, because his schedule is so full, but he can suddenly take a weeks vacation. Twice. And how, also, his friend's pregnant wife is going with them, gonna just hang out and rest while they ski, but I wasn't even invited. Sure, I don't ski, but damn, I sure can rest.
I did not complain when he forgot to arrange my fortieth birthday party.
I did not complain when he bought items for the house for MY birthday.
I did not complain when he did not buy me a Christmas gift.
I did not complain when he did not even acknowledge Valentine's Day.
I did not even complain when he told me he was going on this ski trip.
But I am complaining about not getting the respect I deserve from him.
I blame his mother.
Really.
She was not stable and in the end didn't even raise him. He had no role model to show him what a mother does. His dad raised him alone and worked two jobs to do so. He was never around. The husband became a latch-key kid at nine and while that made him a complete whiz at laundry and sandwich making, it did not show him how a dad actually deals with his children. For this, I am sad for him.
As I have gained more tenure in my mothering career, I have gotten better at it. I know I am a better mother than my MIL. I can deal with my three kids more easily than I dealt with my one kid. It took some time but I have learned not to sweat the small stuff. Kids make messes. They act strange in public. They need their butts wiped. Not my idea of a vacation, but I can deal with it. I like it even. Yes, it's my life, but it's also my job. I work at it. It's not sugar and candy every day. I'd like a vacation from it also. It's hard to work 24/7/365 and get no respect. Or a break. Or a little help.
The husband should get that.
And for that, I am complaining.
Amazing, isn't it?
I usually clean pretty well on Monday, but I figured, hey, the mess doesn't bother the kids and I could learn to live with it for a week since the one person I keep the house clean for won't be here all week.
Yes, that's right. The husband will be gone all week.
That poor, poor man. His job. It does suck. His boss. He does hate him. His hours. They are long.
But he's not going on a business trip. Oh no.
He's going to Colorado skiing with a friend.
Because, how did he put it? He'd go cccrrraaazzzyy if he didn't get away from here.
And by here he meant HERE. Our house. Our family.
You know, because we drive him so fricking crazy for those twenty or thirty minutes he actually sees any of us in a day.
He deserves it, really, because he works so hard to make money so that WE can live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood and eat. Oh. My. Gawd. The nerve of us to do all the eating that we do. And we play, play, play all day. There is much laughing and happiness, why shoot, our every day is nothing but lazy, delightful vacation days because what I do cannot be considered work. NO. How so very lucky I am to watch television and go shopping every day! I am living the life of Riley. Oh, yes I am.
That's two vacations in two months, you know, if you're keeping track.
And that's seven vacations to my zero. Oh, but I forget. My whole life is a vacation.
I totally get that my husband hates his job and wants some time away. Boy, do I get that. I want him to have that time away, really, because he does deserve it because he does work in a crappy job he hates to keep a roof over our heads. I am not, though, understanding why he cannot eat dinner with us, like, ever, because his schedule is so full, but he can suddenly take a weeks vacation. Twice. And how, also, his friend's pregnant wife is going with them, gonna just hang out and rest while they ski, but I wasn't even invited. Sure, I don't ski, but damn, I sure can rest.
I did not complain when he forgot to arrange my fortieth birthday party.
I did not complain when he bought items for the house for MY birthday.
I did not complain when he did not buy me a Christmas gift.
I did not complain when he did not even acknowledge Valentine's Day.
I did not even complain when he told me he was going on this ski trip.
But I am complaining about not getting the respect I deserve from him.
I blame his mother.
Really.
She was not stable and in the end didn't even raise him. He had no role model to show him what a mother does. His dad raised him alone and worked two jobs to do so. He was never around. The husband became a latch-key kid at nine and while that made him a complete whiz at laundry and sandwich making, it did not show him how a dad actually deals with his children. For this, I am sad for him.
As I have gained more tenure in my mothering career, I have gotten better at it. I know I am a better mother than my MIL. I can deal with my three kids more easily than I dealt with my one kid. It took some time but I have learned not to sweat the small stuff. Kids make messes. They act strange in public. They need their butts wiped. Not my idea of a vacation, but I can deal with it. I like it even. Yes, it's my life, but it's also my job. I work at it. It's not sugar and candy every day. I'd like a vacation from it also. It's hard to work 24/7/365 and get no respect. Or a break. Or a little help.
The husband should get that.
And for that, I am complaining.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Facebook Happens
I guess Thursday will just be my regular blogging day from now on. Seriously. I don't mean to go a week between posts, it just happens. Life just happens. And in my life, along with the cleaning, cooking, shuttling, and child-rearing, Facebook happens.
Facebook sucks a good bit of what little free time I have. I have tried to give it up, but I really do need to know what all 92 of my friends are doing every day and I just know they are waiting on the edge of their seats for my latest updates. Just nod and agree with me.
As of today, I have been on Facebook for a whole year. I created my account at the invitation of a friend under the ruse or COME SEE MY AWESOME PHOTOS!! And being the nosy ass person that I am, I signed up JUST TO SEE THOSE PHOTOS. Really. I mean, what was Facebook if not another My Space and, geez louise, I am wwaayy too old for My Space.
But then I checked it again a week later because I got an email, MORE PHOTOS!, and I had some friend requests. Me? Friend requests? Who doesn't want to be requested to be another's friend? So I accepted and began keeping in daily touch with high school/college friends I hadn't seen in years. YEARS! I didn't know what they did those twenty years since we'd seen one another, but I instantly knew what they had for breakfast most mornings.
And that was it. I was hooked.
But here I am, a year later, and I'm wondering if there is a Facebook for Dummies book I can check out from the library.
Is there a Facebook etiquette book out there? Because I need to know the following:
1. Applications. What's up with those? I liked My Little Green Patch last spring when I had six friends and could click my new plants every day within three minutes. But I currently have thirty-two plants waiting for me and that might take me, well, forever to add so they just sit there mocking me in the upper right corner every time I log on. What happens if I don't accept them? Does a notification shoot back to the giver saying ANDRIA DOES NOT WANT YOUR PLANT! SHE IS A BAD FRIEND!? Am I bad person because I don't want to throw some Mardi Gras beads? At my next job interview will they be able to find out which 80's movie defines me? To apply or not to apply? That is the question.
2. Memes. Now, ya'll know I love a good meme. I mean, why do I blog if not to talk about myself some more? No one can accuse me of having low self-esteem. But I do know some people hate them with every fiber of their being so to tag or not to tag? If I don't tag I feel like I'm letting all my friends think that I don't really want to know 25 thing about them, but if I tag, are they going to be mad because they have another request in their corner? I do have to confess. If someone else gets tagged and I don't, I do wonder, does this person not like me anymore? Did I offend? Okay. Maybe a little self-esteem issue.
3. Friend requests. Let's just start by saying I have not friended anyone I didn't want to friend. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea here. I think it's cool if you read my blog and you want to friend me. I'll accept your friend request. If you turn out to be a weirdo, I'll just defriend you. I like that I have new friends now that I wouldn't have without FB. What confuses me, though, is people I barely knew years and years ago, some of whom were downright mean to me, who send me a friend request. WTH? Now, maybe if they added something like, HEY, I KNOW I TREATED YOU LIKE CRAP IN JUNIOR HIGH, I'M SORRY, LET'S BE FRIENDS., then maybe, but an anonymous friend request to add to three hundred others? That kinda reeks of a popularity contest to me. Does whoever have the most friends win? But then how do I look if everyone else I went to school with is friending that person and I'm the lone hold out? Does that make me a b*tch? Which brings me to...
4. Friend suggestions. WHAT? Okay, I can see where this might be helpful to someone who hasn't noticed the search box at the top, but seriously, can I just decide for myself if I want to friend someone? I don't know what to do about the friend suggestion. If I don't want to be friends with the suggested one, I can ignore it sure, but doesn't the friend who sent it to me know I didn't take her suggestion? Does that just say HEY, WHY THE HECK DOES SHE THINK I'D BE FRIENDS WITH HER? GAWD. SHE MUST BE OUT OF HER MIND. I SHALL IGNORE THIS BECAUSE HER SUGGESTION IS LAME! And then do those friends talk about me behind my back on the chat and wonder why I didn't friend? I said I didn't have any self-esteem issues. Shush.
5. Games I just want to add here that Word Twist, Scavenger Hunt, and Hatchlings are a huge time suck and I want to defriend whoever invited me to play in the first place. Not really. But please. Do not invite me to play any different games. I'm stepping away from Parking Wars. I don't care how much fun that looks. But if you want to try and beat me at Word Twist, bring it on.
Are you on Facebook? Are you as confused as I am or am I just old for this?
Excuse while I update my status.....
Facebook sucks a good bit of what little free time I have. I have tried to give it up, but I really do need to know what all 92 of my friends are doing every day and I just know they are waiting on the edge of their seats for my latest updates. Just nod and agree with me.
As of today, I have been on Facebook for a whole year. I created my account at the invitation of a friend under the ruse or COME SEE MY AWESOME PHOTOS!! And being the nosy ass person that I am, I signed up JUST TO SEE THOSE PHOTOS. Really. I mean, what was Facebook if not another My Space and, geez louise, I am wwaayy too old for My Space.
But then I checked it again a week later because I got an email, MORE PHOTOS!, and I had some friend requests. Me? Friend requests? Who doesn't want to be requested to be another's friend? So I accepted and began keeping in daily touch with high school/college friends I hadn't seen in years. YEARS! I didn't know what they did those twenty years since we'd seen one another, but I instantly knew what they had for breakfast most mornings.
And that was it. I was hooked.
But here I am, a year later, and I'm wondering if there is a Facebook for Dummies book I can check out from the library.
Is there a Facebook etiquette book out there? Because I need to know the following:
1. Applications. What's up with those? I liked My Little Green Patch last spring when I had six friends and could click my new plants every day within three minutes. But I currently have thirty-two plants waiting for me and that might take me, well, forever to add so they just sit there mocking me in the upper right corner every time I log on. What happens if I don't accept them? Does a notification shoot back to the giver saying ANDRIA DOES NOT WANT YOUR PLANT! SHE IS A BAD FRIEND!? Am I bad person because I don't want to throw some Mardi Gras beads? At my next job interview will they be able to find out which 80's movie defines me? To apply or not to apply? That is the question.
2. Memes. Now, ya'll know I love a good meme. I mean, why do I blog if not to talk about myself some more? No one can accuse me of having low self-esteem. But I do know some people hate them with every fiber of their being so to tag or not to tag? If I don't tag I feel like I'm letting all my friends think that I don't really want to know 25 thing about them, but if I tag, are they going to be mad because they have another request in their corner? I do have to confess. If someone else gets tagged and I don't, I do wonder, does this person not like me anymore? Did I offend? Okay. Maybe a little self-esteem issue.
3. Friend requests. Let's just start by saying I have not friended anyone I didn't want to friend. I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea here. I think it's cool if you read my blog and you want to friend me. I'll accept your friend request. If you turn out to be a weirdo, I'll just defriend you. I like that I have new friends now that I wouldn't have without FB. What confuses me, though, is people I barely knew years and years ago, some of whom were downright mean to me, who send me a friend request. WTH? Now, maybe if they added something like, HEY, I KNOW I TREATED YOU LIKE CRAP IN JUNIOR HIGH, I'M SORRY, LET'S BE FRIENDS., then maybe, but an anonymous friend request to add to three hundred others? That kinda reeks of a popularity contest to me. Does whoever have the most friends win? But then how do I look if everyone else I went to school with is friending that person and I'm the lone hold out? Does that make me a b*tch? Which brings me to...
4. Friend suggestions. WHAT? Okay, I can see where this might be helpful to someone who hasn't noticed the search box at the top, but seriously, can I just decide for myself if I want to friend someone? I don't know what to do about the friend suggestion. If I don't want to be friends with the suggested one, I can ignore it sure, but doesn't the friend who sent it to me know I didn't take her suggestion? Does that just say HEY, WHY THE HECK DOES SHE THINK I'D BE FRIENDS WITH HER? GAWD. SHE MUST BE OUT OF HER MIND. I SHALL IGNORE THIS BECAUSE HER SUGGESTION IS LAME! And then do those friends talk about me behind my back on the chat and wonder why I didn't friend? I said I didn't have any self-esteem issues. Shush.
5. Games I just want to add here that Word Twist, Scavenger Hunt, and Hatchlings are a huge time suck and I want to defriend whoever invited me to play in the first place. Not really. But please. Do not invite me to play any different games. I'm stepping away from Parking Wars. I don't care how much fun that looks. But if you want to try and beat me at Word Twist, bring it on.
Are you on Facebook? Are you as confused as I am or am I just old for this?
Excuse while I update my status.....
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Take This Job.....
Has it been a whole week since I last posted?
Wow. I'm getting lazy with this blogging thing.
You say I didn't post a thing about Adam's birthday and his party? I didn't post his four year update? And it's February? Man. Poor Middle.
There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get all the things I need done. I remember my mom saying the exact same thing to her friends on her avocado colored corded phone staked to the kitchen wall and piping in "Not enough hours? Too many hours! School is sooo long and it takes forever to get to summer vacation! Wah. I am soooo bored!" before she gave me the don't-make-me-hang-up-and-deal-with-you stare and said I'd think differently one day.
Yes, Mom. You were right. You have always been right. You are actually not the stupidest person to ever live. And you were right not to wear a bikini to the pool that summer even though I said you were uncool. In hindsight, Stephanie's mom must have been having some sort of mid-life crisis and that was kinda gross. Thank you.
Anyway...
I am busy.
Once upon a time my husband worked ten hours a day and returned before dinner where I would do a little Elaine dance hearing the garage door arise and be waiting at the door to tag team parent my one and only loud and messy child.
Now my husband works fourteen hours a day, leaves me to tackle dinnertime alone with three kids and returns most nights well after baths have been given and at least two kids have been wrestled to bed. His job sucks. His boss hates him. Brown-nosing co-workers dump on him. But he can't find anything else. No one's hiring and instead firing. Even his own company will be laying off next month and he's in fear that if his boss gets to choose, he'll be the first canned. So he works. And works. And works. He gets no overtime. No respect. Just the hope that he'll have a job, albeit one that causes him daily misery.
Oh, and did I mention our mortgage went up six hundred bucks? We are some of the lucky few who get to pay extra taxes. I think I heard Obama laughing when I wondered about my own stimulus check.
I try not to complain. I listen to my husband's tales of the woeful work world and pat his back or give him a hug and tell him it's no big deal that he hasn't eaten dinner with us in three weeks. That, no, I won't spend any money this week. Sure, we can cancel Valentine's Day, the kids know we love them, they don't need a special day to tell them that. I guess I can quit buying the organic milk. I mean, we didn't drink organic milk and we're fine, right?
But, damn, I'm tired.
If it's here at home, I do it. If it's at school, I do it. If it needs purchased, I get it. And, oh boy, why were all my kids born six weeks apart? The party planning is all mine. If it weren't for me their big days would be hopelessly forgotten as just another day and, dang, we can't have that! So I babysit every other Friday so my kids can feel special on their one and only very own day.
And that's okay, because that's my job. But, man, sometimes my job kinda sucks too. I work long hours. I rarely get the respect I deserve. And my co-worker dumps on me. A lot. And he doesn't even realize it. And my employees, they're pretty smart, but they require a lot of hand-holding and they just don't get things the first time I teach them so that throws a wrench into our facility much of the time. You know, it all might be grounds for dismissal, but they are so dern cute I want to keep them around, so I pick up the slack. What else can I do?
But I am tired.
And hopelessly lacking free time these days.
But until I find more....
The party was a success! Even if he was embarrassed while they sang to him.
Mmm...cupcake cake. Messy, but so delicious.
And who wouldn't want to spend their birthday at the zoo?
Or Waffle House?
One birthday down, two more to go. Then maybe I can rest.
Wow. I'm getting lazy with this blogging thing.
You say I didn't post a thing about Adam's birthday and his party? I didn't post his four year update? And it's February? Man. Poor Middle.
There just doesn't seem to be enough hours in the day to get all the things I need done. I remember my mom saying the exact same thing to her friends on her avocado colored corded phone staked to the kitchen wall and piping in "Not enough hours? Too many hours! School is sooo long and it takes forever to get to summer vacation! Wah. I am soooo bored!" before she gave me the don't-make-me-hang-up-and-deal-with-you stare and said I'd think differently one day.
Yes, Mom. You were right. You have always been right. You are actually not the stupidest person to ever live. And you were right not to wear a bikini to the pool that summer even though I said you were uncool. In hindsight, Stephanie's mom must have been having some sort of mid-life crisis and that was kinda gross. Thank you.
Anyway...
I am busy.
Once upon a time my husband worked ten hours a day and returned before dinner where I would do a little Elaine dance hearing the garage door arise and be waiting at the door to tag team parent my one and only loud and messy child.
Now my husband works fourteen hours a day, leaves me to tackle dinnertime alone with three kids and returns most nights well after baths have been given and at least two kids have been wrestled to bed. His job sucks. His boss hates him. Brown-nosing co-workers dump on him. But he can't find anything else. No one's hiring and instead firing. Even his own company will be laying off next month and he's in fear that if his boss gets to choose, he'll be the first canned. So he works. And works. And works. He gets no overtime. No respect. Just the hope that he'll have a job, albeit one that causes him daily misery.
Oh, and did I mention our mortgage went up six hundred bucks? We are some of the lucky few who get to pay extra taxes. I think I heard Obama laughing when I wondered about my own stimulus check.
I try not to complain. I listen to my husband's tales of the woeful work world and pat his back or give him a hug and tell him it's no big deal that he hasn't eaten dinner with us in three weeks. That, no, I won't spend any money this week. Sure, we can cancel Valentine's Day, the kids know we love them, they don't need a special day to tell them that. I guess I can quit buying the organic milk. I mean, we didn't drink organic milk and we're fine, right?
But, damn, I'm tired.
If it's here at home, I do it. If it's at school, I do it. If it needs purchased, I get it. And, oh boy, why were all my kids born six weeks apart? The party planning is all mine. If it weren't for me their big days would be hopelessly forgotten as just another day and, dang, we can't have that! So I babysit every other Friday so my kids can feel special on their one and only very own day.
And that's okay, because that's my job. But, man, sometimes my job kinda sucks too. I work long hours. I rarely get the respect I deserve. And my co-worker dumps on me. A lot. And he doesn't even realize it. And my employees, they're pretty smart, but they require a lot of hand-holding and they just don't get things the first time I teach them so that throws a wrench into our facility much of the time. You know, it all might be grounds for dismissal, but they are so dern cute I want to keep them around, so I pick up the slack. What else can I do?
But I am tired.
And hopelessly lacking free time these days.
But until I find more....
The party was a success! Even if he was embarrassed while they sang to him.
Mmm...cupcake cake. Messy, but so delicious.
And who wouldn't want to spend their birthday at the zoo?
Or Waffle House?
One birthday down, two more to go. Then maybe I can rest.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Another Reason I Love Facebook
The doorbell rang yesterday afternoon.
The kids thought it was their friends coming to play, but it wasn't.
The lady in the mail truck brought a package.
My kids LOVE when packages come. It doesn't matter who it's addressed to, they always think it's something for them. There was much jumping and clapping and choruses of open-it-faster-Mom. It's times like those I wish I was on a reality show with cameras in every nook and cranny because it's hard to hold a video camera AND open a tightly sealed box.
Was it toys? Books? The four hundred dollar Lego Death Star, just because?
No.
It was 150 candy bars from Mommy's old high school-now-Facebook friend.
Thank you Mail Lady for bringing them right before dinner.
I'm not one to turn down a gift or a good time. So we had candy bars. Before dinner. And they were good.
Go ahead boys. Keep posing. I just need a few more seconds to reach the rest of your candy.
Mommy's Facebook friend works for a natural and organic foods company. Last month one food supplier had all their products taken off the shelves because their spokesperson died and I guess they figured no one wanted to buy food with a dead person on the label no matter how much money that poor dead person donated to charity from all his profits. I don't know exactly what Mommy's Facebook friend does at her company, but when products get trashed, they go directly back to her. In boxes. On her front porch. A nice little perk I think.
I always knew MFF would give you the shirt off her back.
Or the chocolate from her porch.
Mmmmm.
Sure beats salad dressing.
The kids thought it was their friends coming to play, but it wasn't.
The lady in the mail truck brought a package.
My kids LOVE when packages come. It doesn't matter who it's addressed to, they always think it's something for them. There was much jumping and clapping and choruses of open-it-faster-Mom. It's times like those I wish I was on a reality show with cameras in every nook and cranny because it's hard to hold a video camera AND open a tightly sealed box.
Was it toys? Books? The four hundred dollar Lego Death Star, just because?
No.
It was 150 candy bars from Mommy's old high school-now-Facebook friend.
Thank you Mail Lady for bringing them right before dinner.
I'm not one to turn down a gift or a good time. So we had candy bars. Before dinner. And they were good.
Go ahead boys. Keep posing. I just need a few more seconds to reach the rest of your candy.
Mommy's Facebook friend works for a natural and organic foods company. Last month one food supplier had all their products taken off the shelves because their spokesperson died and I guess they figured no one wanted to buy food with a dead person on the label no matter how much money that poor dead person donated to charity from all his profits. I don't know exactly what Mommy's Facebook friend does at her company, but when products get trashed, they go directly back to her. In boxes. On her front porch. A nice little perk I think.
I always knew MFF would give you the shirt off her back.
Or the chocolate from her porch.
Mmmmm.
Sure beats salad dressing.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Amie's meme
Okay, I don't think she intended it to be a meme, but there was no way I could answer all her questions in the tiny space that is the comment box. You know, because I didn't want to monopolize her blog space like that.
So because I love you Amie and I also need something to write about here it is:
1. What do you listen to in the car? Talk Radio/music Radio/CD or nothing. Does anybody actually prefer silence in their car? We listen to Dora and Friends Animal Jamboree because if we don't we have to listen to a very hysterical, high-pitched "I wan Doe-wah" over and over.
2. Do you have an Ipod? If so, what's the last thing you loaded on it? I do have an ipod. I love my ipod. But the last time I loaded anything onto it was in May before we moved. Even though the itunes store is loaded onto my laptop, I can't buy songs for some reason. And of course everyone bought me an itunes giftcard for Christmas. I can't remember the last song I loaded, but I think it was Daughter from Knocked Up
3.Do you have a Facebook page? Am I your friend? I am addicted to Facebook. I love chatting throughout the day with friends I haven't seen intwenty ten years. Amie and I are friends. Do you wanna be friends too?
4. What's the best book you read last year? Did I read a book last year? You know I did read the new Stephen King book and it was good but I can't remember the name of it. I also read all of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants books and I loved them. Does that make me hopelessly immature?
5. What's the best movie you watched last year? Dan in Real Life. It rates up there in my all time top ten. I loved that movie.
6. Do you buy music online? Well, I did when my itunes store was working.
7. What is one brand you are loyal to? Johnson and Johnson. I like all their baby soaps, shampoos, etc. I even use them myself. I don't think the generic brands smell as good. I also only use Pampers diapers. They are more expensive than I'd like to pay but anything else gives my kids diaper rash.
8. Did you watch Lost last week? If so, what did you think? Lost continues to confuse me, but I enjoyed it because I'd missed it. I miss Charlie. And Claire. And I want to know what the heck is up with Locke and why he died under a different name. Or is he really dead?
9. What do you hope to accomplish in 2009? I hope to spend more time with my kids each day.
10. M&Ms or Skittles? They used to make a crispy M&Ms that I loved but I haven't seen them for a while, so without those I'd have to say Skittles. Sour Skittles.
So because I love you Amie and I also need something to write about here it is:
1. What do you listen to in the car? Talk Radio/music Radio/CD or nothing. Does anybody actually prefer silence in their car? We listen to Dora and Friends Animal Jamboree because if we don't we have to listen to a very hysterical, high-pitched "I wan Doe-wah" over and over.
2. Do you have an Ipod? If so, what's the last thing you loaded on it? I do have an ipod. I love my ipod. But the last time I loaded anything onto it was in May before we moved. Even though the itunes store is loaded onto my laptop, I can't buy songs for some reason. And of course everyone bought me an itunes giftcard for Christmas. I can't remember the last song I loaded, but I think it was Daughter from Knocked Up
3.Do you have a Facebook page? Am I your friend? I am addicted to Facebook. I love chatting throughout the day with friends I haven't seen in
4. What's the best book you read last year? Did I read a book last year? You know I did read the new Stephen King book and it was good but I can't remember the name of it. I also read all of the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants books and I loved them. Does that make me hopelessly immature?
5. What's the best movie you watched last year? Dan in Real Life. It rates up there in my all time top ten. I loved that movie.
6. Do you buy music online? Well, I did when my itunes store was working.
7. What is one brand you are loyal to? Johnson and Johnson. I like all their baby soaps, shampoos, etc. I even use them myself. I don't think the generic brands smell as good. I also only use Pampers diapers. They are more expensive than I'd like to pay but anything else gives my kids diaper rash.
8. Did you watch Lost last week? If so, what did you think? Lost continues to confuse me, but I enjoyed it because I'd missed it. I miss Charlie. And Claire. And I want to know what the heck is up with Locke and why he died under a different name. Or is he really dead?
9. What do you hope to accomplish in 2009? I hope to spend more time with my kids each day.
10. M&Ms or Skittles? They used to make a crispy M&Ms that I loved but I haven't seen them for a while, so without those I'd have to say Skittles. Sour Skittles.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
This is Why I Didn't Want a Dog
I've been reading the book Marley and Me. I wanted to take my kids to see the movie, but a friend warned me about the sad, I-should've-figured-that ending. Still, though, the trailers reminded me of our early days with our sweet Lab and I just wanted to see what it was all about it. So I got the book at the library. Three weeks ago.
I couldn't put the book down during the first few chapters. I'd tell my husband about things puppy Marley did that were surprisingly identical to things puppy Ezra did, so much so I figured the author must have had a secret spy camera aimed directly on our old Eighth Street house and was stealing all of our good material. Seriously. I could've written that book. And it would be ME being paid exorbitantly for the film rights.
Marley couldn't sleep his first night home, neither could Ezra. Marley's person gave up and brought him into his bedroom. So did we. Marley was terrified of thunderstorms, so is Ezra. Marley stood watch over the newborn babies. Ditto Ez. I could go on and on. It was fun reading the reminders of the little things I'd forgotten (or chosen to forget) after three tiny children invaded our lives bumping our big black baby back down to family dog status.
Toward the end of the book, Marley's family moves (We did too!). They begin to notice his gray hairs (yep) and maybe, just maybe, he's not hearing and seeing them as well as he used to (hmmmm). Then they start having to let him out in the middle of the night to relieve himself and helping up steps.
That's where I stopped reading. I can't read anymore. Oh, it'd be quick and easy to finish, there's only a few pages left. But I can't read anymore.
A few weeks ago, Ezra tripped going over a curb. Last weekend, he started having accidents in "his room" at night. The first time I attributed it to a random accident. The second time I figured it was unavoidable after gorging himself on all the wasted birthday hot dogs he swiped from the garbage cans. I mean, it could be that, right? He was fine for a couple of days, whining loudly enough to wake us a couple of nights to send him out and do his business, but last night he broke free. In more ways than one. Sigh.
But he's okay! My sister's dog has needed a midnight walk since she was a puppy. This is normal. He's young. He's only ten! For three more weeks.
I see him peering at me from the back door. Freezing his poor pampered tushy off in the 36 degree weather under a huge sign telling me DO! NOT! BRING! EZRA! IN! HE! IS! INCONTINENT! and he looks fine. He's smiling even. Smiling that sweet little Lab smile to convince me how cute he'll be inside lying at our feet. And I want him at my feet. I need him at my feet. But I am banned.
The book tells me I only have about twenty pages left. The vet told us this summer that, WOW!, he's lived long for a full-bred dog. TEN! We're so lucky.
And we have been lucky. For all of Ezra's mischief, he's been a good a faithful companion. He still barks to warn me of a random children climbing onto counters. He barks when the kids swing too high. He gets between the kids and strangers on walks and leers at them menacingly, at least until they pet him. But the hard truth is he's old. He's almost eleven. He has a hard time standing sometimes. He has cataracts. He barks at random phantoms. He's apparently become incontinent. He's become an old dog.
I don't think I can bring myself to read those last twenty pages. I just don't think I want to know what comes next. For now, aside from the obvious hygiene issues, he seems to be doing pretty well. He can still fetch the Frisbee and catch it most of the time. He still wags himself silly when the kids just speak to him. But I know he's not getting any younger.
My heart hurts thinking about it, but I still have twenty more pages.
I couldn't put the book down during the first few chapters. I'd tell my husband about things puppy Marley did that were surprisingly identical to things puppy Ezra did, so much so I figured the author must have had a secret spy camera aimed directly on our old Eighth Street house and was stealing all of our good material. Seriously. I could've written that book. And it would be ME being paid exorbitantly for the film rights.
Marley couldn't sleep his first night home, neither could Ezra. Marley's person gave up and brought him into his bedroom. So did we. Marley was terrified of thunderstorms, so is Ezra. Marley stood watch over the newborn babies. Ditto Ez. I could go on and on. It was fun reading the reminders of the little things I'd forgotten (or chosen to forget) after three tiny children invaded our lives bumping our big black baby back down to family dog status.
Toward the end of the book, Marley's family moves (We did too!). They begin to notice his gray hairs (yep) and maybe, just maybe, he's not hearing and seeing them as well as he used to (hmmmm). Then they start having to let him out in the middle of the night to relieve himself and helping up steps.
That's where I stopped reading. I can't read anymore. Oh, it'd be quick and easy to finish, there's only a few pages left. But I can't read anymore.
A few weeks ago, Ezra tripped going over a curb. Last weekend, he started having accidents in "his room" at night. The first time I attributed it to a random accident. The second time I figured it was unavoidable after gorging himself on all the wasted birthday hot dogs he swiped from the garbage cans. I mean, it could be that, right? He was fine for a couple of days, whining loudly enough to wake us a couple of nights to send him out and do his business, but last night he broke free. In more ways than one. Sigh.
But he's okay! My sister's dog has needed a midnight walk since she was a puppy. This is normal. He's young. He's only ten! For three more weeks.
I see him peering at me from the back door. Freezing his poor pampered tushy off in the 36 degree weather under a huge sign telling me DO! NOT! BRING! EZRA! IN! HE! IS! INCONTINENT! and he looks fine. He's smiling even. Smiling that sweet little Lab smile to convince me how cute he'll be inside lying at our feet. And I want him at my feet. I need him at my feet. But I am banned.
The book tells me I only have about twenty pages left. The vet told us this summer that, WOW!, he's lived long for a full-bred dog. TEN! We're so lucky.
And we have been lucky. For all of Ezra's mischief, he's been a good a faithful companion. He still barks to warn me of a random children climbing onto counters. He barks when the kids swing too high. He gets between the kids and strangers on walks and leers at them menacingly, at least until they pet him. But the hard truth is he's old. He's almost eleven. He has a hard time standing sometimes. He has cataracts. He barks at random phantoms. He's apparently become incontinent. He's become an old dog.
I don't think I can bring myself to read those last twenty pages. I just don't think I want to know what comes next. For now, aside from the obvious hygiene issues, he seems to be doing pretty well. He can still fetch the Frisbee and catch it most of the time. He still wags himself silly when the kids just speak to him. But I know he's not getting any younger.
My heart hurts thinking about it, but I still have twenty more pages.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Happy Birthday Adam!
January 23, 2005
The day I learned there was room in my heart for the love of two children.
Adam on the day he was born....
On his first birthday.....
On his second birthday.....
On his third birthday.....
And a few days before his fourth birthday....
My heart will always be full of love for mybaby big boy Adam.
The day I learned there was room in my heart for the love of two children.
Adam on the day he was born....
On his first birthday.....
On his second birthday.....
On his third birthday.....
And a few days before his fourth birthday....
My heart will always be full of love for my
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
A Good Recipe
Pork chops were on sale this week. $1.79 a pound for boneless loin chops. I usually put them in the crock pot with some vegetables, but I forgot to do that yesterday so I searched on one of my favorite sites, allrecipes.com, and found a good and easy one that doesn't have to be prepared ten hours ahead.
And since ya'll might have pork chops on sale at your stores this week too, I will share it with you. Here's the original recipe.
And here's what I did with it.
Brown Sugar Chops
6 boneless pork chops
6 tablespoons brown sugar
6 tablespoons margarine
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
I sprayed a baking dish with non-stick spray and salt and peppered each side of the pork chops before placing them in the pan. I zapped all the other ingredients in the microwave and combined them well and then poured the mixture over each chop. I placed the pork chops in a preheated 350 degree oven covered with foil for 45 minutes. I took the foil off and sprinkled a little more brown sugar on top of each chop and cooked them another ten minutes and then a few minutes under the broiler to crisp the sugary crust.
There were no leftovers.
Even the picky ones licked their plate clean.
And with some cheap sweet potatoes the entire meal cost $4.25.
I'm glad I bought two packages.
And since ya'll might have pork chops on sale at your stores this week too, I will share it with you. Here's the original recipe.
And here's what I did with it.
Brown Sugar Chops
6 boneless pork chops
6 tablespoons brown sugar
6 tablespoons margarine
1 tablespoon soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
I sprayed a baking dish with non-stick spray and salt and peppered each side of the pork chops before placing them in the pan. I zapped all the other ingredients in the microwave and combined them well and then poured the mixture over each chop. I placed the pork chops in a preheated 350 degree oven covered with foil for 45 minutes. I took the foil off and sprinkled a little more brown sugar on top of each chop and cooked them another ten minutes and then a few minutes under the broiler to crisp the sugary crust.
There were no leftovers.
Even the picky ones licked their plate clean.
And with some cheap sweet potatoes the entire meal cost $4.25.
I'm glad I bought two packages.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Happy MLK Day!
I have a dream.
A dream to finally make my New Year's resolutions.
Can they still be called New Year's resolutions on January 19? Maybe I'll call them MLK Day Resolutions. And maybe one of my resolutions should be to do things in a timely manner. You know, like blog posts and thank you notes.
*Reminder: Get on those thank you notes*
Let's revisit last year shall we?
Okay, five out of fourteen is.....okay.
Our grocery bill continues to decline, I no longer go to Target for fun, I think I can honestly say I have a couple of real-life, come over and have a play date friends, we MOVED (halle-fricking-lujah!), and I do say a little prayer before I crawl out of bed each morning giving thanks for these sweet little creatures I call my own. You know, before they can do something to tick me off.
I honestly wasn't going to make any resolutions this year. I laughed in the face of all those people interviewed by the third string CNN reporters on New Years Eve. Who really keeps resolutions? Why do we do these things just to feel badly about them later? Why can't we better our lives every day instead of January 1? Huh? Who invented the resolution?
But old habits die hard. Can't teach an old dog new tricks. The urge to purge and organize and take control of my life hit hard before the tree ever made it back to the attic (which was yesterday, btw. See, not timely).
So, without further ado, my 2009New Year's MLK Day Resolutions:
I will no longer yell I know. I say this every year. I always wanted to be one of those moms who could get her kid's attention and compliance with a soft pat on the shoulder, but I didn't receive those children. Or that husband. I am surrounded by yellers and I have fallen into that trap. I vow to end this once and for all and teach them all that we can accomplish things at lower decibels. I trained a class of loud third graders to pipe down by whispering to them for a week. I'm going to try it at home. Heaven help me.
I will no longer swear Yeah, yeah. I say this every year, too. I have gotten better. I no longer call the school drop-off line cutters dumb asses under my breath. They now go by ding-dongs, but it hasn't helped their rude road rage. But last week when I dropped a can of Dora soup on bare toe, my daughter said sh*t for the rest of the day. Very well. At the Christian school. So, I've got to get better. Wish me luck.
I will take more pictures I have TWO cameras and I really don't have many pictures from 2008 compared to other years. Maybe that's because we spent so much time packing, moving, unpacking, and evacuating for hurricanes, but really now, I need more pictures. I'll need them to remember my life when I'm senile in a nursing home. I also need to take more video. I can't remember the last time we dug the camcorder out. Was it Elizabeth's birthday? And by birthday I mean her actual birth day. I must get Adam saying lego-lo and Elizabeth saying Doe-wah before they stop.
I will feed my kids a healthy diet I try to limit artificial colors and preservatives and go all natural as much as possible, but it's hard to do that and stay within our budget. It's easy to see why there is so much obesity and poor health in high poverty areas. Healthy foods are usually pretty expensive. There's no way I can go completely organic or totally Feingold or we'd be broke. I can, however, serve more fruits and vegetables and offer healthier snacks. It's a start. Less sugar will help too.
I will comment on everyone's blogs at least once a week I love Google Reader, but it's made me lazy. It's so easy to read, chuckle, make a mental note to go back and comment, and then move on to the next in line. And then I'll get busy with my day and never go back. And I do remember all the awards I need to post. I am grateful for them, really, I just need to post them. Someday. Last year was a bad commenting/posting year for me. I got wwaayy behind when we moved and never quite dug myself out of it. I know I need to show the love more and I'll try to do better, but at the same time....
I will limit my computer time Really. I need to. I will log on with the intentions of checking my mail and my Facebook notifications and then look over and realize I've left my kids vegging in front of the tube for an hour. I heart my blogs. And Facebook. And I really love to play Word Twist and Scavenger Hunt and Webkinz. They are my fix, my nicotine, but I didn't become a stay home mom to play on the computer all day. So my plan is to log on for that half hour the kids are enjoying Dora in the morning and after they're in bed for the night. I might need prayers for this one. And this brings me to the one that's most important to me....
I will spend more quality time with ALL my kids Oh, I spend TONS of time with these kids. I'm never away from them. Shoot, sometimes I have two of them curled up in bed with me at night. We run errands together. We eat meals together. They play toys right beside me while I scrub bathrooms and cook meals. We just don't always spend time together. Last week while the rest of the country was just trying to stay warm, the kids and I walked to the creek. We threw rocks and pickedweeds flowers and ate a picnic lunch outside. And then we did it again the next day. I did not bring my computer with me. I left dishes in the sink and toys on the floor. Leaving a dirty house did not ultimately kill the perfectionist me. We had fun. I got lots of kisses those days. I want to do more with the littles while they're still at home with me all day. And I want to find time to do more with Jacob, too. I can have a spotless house when they've left home.
Which reminds me that Dora has become Wonder Pets and I need to get off now. Jacob is home today so we can all walk to the creek together. Shoot, I might even get ambitious and leash up the dog.
2009 will be a good year.
Because look at all I already have:
A dream to finally make my New Year's resolutions.
Can they still be called New Year's resolutions on January 19? Maybe I'll call them MLK Day Resolutions. And maybe one of my resolutions should be to do things in a timely manner. You know, like blog posts and thank you notes.
*Reminder: Get on those thank you notes*
Let's revisit last year shall we?
Okay, five out of fourteen is.....okay.
Our grocery bill continues to decline, I no longer go to Target for fun, I think I can honestly say I have a couple of real-life, come over and have a play date friends, we MOVED (halle-fricking-lujah!), and I do say a little prayer before I crawl out of bed each morning giving thanks for these sweet little creatures I call my own. You know, before they can do something to tick me off.
I honestly wasn't going to make any resolutions this year. I laughed in the face of all those people interviewed by the third string CNN reporters on New Years Eve. Who really keeps resolutions? Why do we do these things just to feel badly about them later? Why can't we better our lives every day instead of January 1? Huh? Who invented the resolution?
But old habits die hard. Can't teach an old dog new tricks. The urge to purge and organize and take control of my life hit hard before the tree ever made it back to the attic (which was yesterday, btw. See, not timely).
So, without further ado, my 2009
I will no longer yell I know. I say this every year. I always wanted to be one of those moms who could get her kid's attention and compliance with a soft pat on the shoulder, but I didn't receive those children. Or that husband. I am surrounded by yellers and I have fallen into that trap. I vow to end this once and for all and teach them all that we can accomplish things at lower decibels. I trained a class of loud third graders to pipe down by whispering to them for a week. I'm going to try it at home. Heaven help me.
I will no longer swear Yeah, yeah. I say this every year, too. I have gotten better. I no longer call the school drop-off line cutters dumb asses under my breath. They now go by ding-dongs, but it hasn't helped their rude road rage. But last week when I dropped a can of Dora soup on bare toe, my daughter said sh*t for the rest of the day. Very well. At the Christian school. So, I've got to get better. Wish me luck.
I will take more pictures I have TWO cameras and I really don't have many pictures from 2008 compared to other years. Maybe that's because we spent so much time packing, moving, unpacking, and evacuating for hurricanes, but really now, I need more pictures. I'll need them to remember my life when I'm senile in a nursing home. I also need to take more video. I can't remember the last time we dug the camcorder out. Was it Elizabeth's birthday? And by birthday I mean her actual birth day. I must get Adam saying lego-lo and Elizabeth saying Doe-wah before they stop.
I will feed my kids a healthy diet I try to limit artificial colors and preservatives and go all natural as much as possible, but it's hard to do that and stay within our budget. It's easy to see why there is so much obesity and poor health in high poverty areas. Healthy foods are usually pretty expensive. There's no way I can go completely organic or totally Feingold or we'd be broke. I can, however, serve more fruits and vegetables and offer healthier snacks. It's a start. Less sugar will help too.
I will comment on everyone's blogs at least once a week I love Google Reader, but it's made me lazy. It's so easy to read, chuckle, make a mental note to go back and comment, and then move on to the next in line. And then I'll get busy with my day and never go back. And I do remember all the awards I need to post. I am grateful for them, really, I just need to post them. Someday. Last year was a bad commenting/posting year for me. I got wwaayy behind when we moved and never quite dug myself out of it. I know I need to show the love more and I'll try to do better, but at the same time....
I will limit my computer time Really. I need to. I will log on with the intentions of checking my mail and my Facebook notifications and then look over and realize I've left my kids vegging in front of the tube for an hour. I heart my blogs. And Facebook. And I really love to play Word Twist and Scavenger Hunt and Webkinz. They are my fix, my nicotine, but I didn't become a stay home mom to play on the computer all day. So my plan is to log on for that half hour the kids are enjoying Dora in the morning and after they're in bed for the night. I might need prayers for this one. And this brings me to the one that's most important to me....
I will spend more quality time with ALL my kids Oh, I spend TONS of time with these kids. I'm never away from them. Shoot, sometimes I have two of them curled up in bed with me at night. We run errands together. We eat meals together. They play toys right beside me while I scrub bathrooms and cook meals. We just don't always spend time together. Last week while the rest of the country was just trying to stay warm, the kids and I walked to the creek. We threw rocks and picked
Which reminds me that Dora has become Wonder Pets and I need to get off now. Jacob is home today so we can all walk to the creek together. Shoot, I might even get ambitious and leash up the dog.
2009 will be a good year.
Because look at all I already have:
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
So....Here's Part Two
Now, where was I?
Oh, yeah. 1995 with a stack of coupons.
Fast forward fourteen-ish years.
I still use the coupons. Now, though, I'm better at it. This is how I do it:
I clip the coupons from the Sunday newspaper. I save the grocery ads from Thursday's junk mail packet. On Monday of every week, after we've dropped Jacob from school, eaten our little breakfast, and turned on Dora/Diego, I get to work. I pore through the ads from the two grocery stores nearest me. I circle all the things on sale that our family will eat. I then go through the pantry, fridge, and freezer and see what might go with those things to make a meal. For example, chicken breasts are currently $1.77 a pound at my fancy grocery store. I have carrots, onions, and a slow cooker seasoning packet for chicken my mom gave me. I can have slow cooker chicken one day this week, I just need to add potatoes to my list as the packet calls for them. One meal down.
I plan four, sometimes five, meals a week. One meal is always soup. Everyone here loves soup and most of my recipes make enough to freeze what's leftover for another meal. So I'll go through the soup section of the recipe box and see what I can make with the things on sale in the ad. Two meals down.
I do the same thing with the remaining meals.
On the days I don't plan a meal, we eat leftovers or sandwiches (from whatever lunchmeat's on sale). And at least one night a week, usually Saturday, we have Yoyo night. Yoyo. You're On Your Own. Everybody just chooses something from the pantry/fridge he wants to eat. It's usually cereal.
Then I use the ads and the recipes to make a list for each store. I prefer the fancy grocery store because they have a better selection, it's cleaner, and overall their prices are cheaper. But. They only take my coupons at face value. The other grocery store, the one that's a pain to get into, a pain to drive out of, and organized very confusingly, they double/triple coupons.
Then I attempt to match sale items to coupons. Like just recently the other store had frozen dinner rolls on sale for $1.99. I never buy them even though I love them because they are regularly $3.48. I had a 50 cent coupon that was doubled so I paid 99 cents for them. And they were delicious with our Christmas dinner.
Some weeks I'll go to both stores. Most of the time I choose the one I can get the bigger deals. At the end of a month I will always make a trip to the other store to use my expiring coupons. If I can get a good deal, like almost free, I'll buy it and use it to stock my pantry.
So here are my grocery "secrets":
1. I buy mostly on sale items. The only things I regularly buy not on sale is milk, bread, and bananas.
2. We eat lots of fresh fruits and vegetables. We just don't know which ones we're going to be eating until the ads come out. I only buy produce that's on sale. And usually less than a dollar a pound. The fancy store had a Buddha's hand that smelled awesome and would've been a great conversation piece, but even on sale it was $12.99 a pound. I'll pass. Give me those oranges for 89 cents please.
3. If meat is on sale, like the chicken this week, I'll pick up two and freeze the second one. This is much easier to do now that we have our old refrigerator in the garage and more freezer space.
4. My store has a clearance bin where they toss items that have gotten a little damaged or someone's opened it. Every week I can get real Poptarts there for less than a dollar. The husband doesn't care if his poptarts come in a dented box. He also doesn't seem to care that they aren't always cherry anymore. I also find lots of cereal and cat food there. Two dollars for 22 cans of cat food is much better than ten dollars for 24 cans.
5. Oh, how could I forget? Store brand is good. Store brand is cheaper. There are only a few things I've found that are better in name brand. Whole berry cranberry sauce is one. Crescent rolls are another.
So that's pretty much it. You can do the same thing with The Grocery Game. They already match the sales and coupons for you so you only really have to figure out what you want to buy. I would sign up for it, but I save more money doing it myself. They charge a fee.
I think I might make this a weekly post because I have tons of other little things I do to stretch out our grocery dollar. If I posted them all now it would take up the entire page.
Do you have a money saving tip? Do tell! Post it on your own blog and leave a link or post a comment. The more money I can save means one more year of private school or stay-at-home mommyness for me, so I'm all ears!
Oh, yeah. 1995 with a stack of coupons.
Fast forward fourteen-ish years.
I still use the coupons. Now, though, I'm better at it. This is how I do it:
I clip the coupons from the Sunday newspaper. I save the grocery ads from Thursday's junk mail packet. On Monday of every week, after we've dropped Jacob from school, eaten our little breakfast, and turned on Dora/Diego, I get to work. I pore through the ads from the two grocery stores nearest me. I circle all the things on sale that our family will eat. I then go through the pantry, fridge, and freezer and see what might go with those things to make a meal. For example, chicken breasts are currently $1.77 a pound at my fancy grocery store. I have carrots, onions, and a slow cooker seasoning packet for chicken my mom gave me. I can have slow cooker chicken one day this week, I just need to add potatoes to my list as the packet calls for them. One meal down.
I plan four, sometimes five, meals a week. One meal is always soup. Everyone here loves soup and most of my recipes make enough to freeze what's leftover for another meal. So I'll go through the soup section of the recipe box and see what I can make with the things on sale in the ad. Two meals down.
I do the same thing with the remaining meals.
On the days I don't plan a meal, we eat leftovers or sandwiches (from whatever lunchmeat's on sale). And at least one night a week, usually Saturday, we have Yoyo night. Yoyo. You're On Your Own. Everybody just chooses something from the pantry/fridge he wants to eat. It's usually cereal.
Then I use the ads and the recipes to make a list for each store. I prefer the fancy grocery store because they have a better selection, it's cleaner, and overall their prices are cheaper. But. They only take my coupons at face value. The other grocery store, the one that's a pain to get into, a pain to drive out of, and organized very confusingly, they double/triple coupons.
Then I attempt to match sale items to coupons. Like just recently the other store had frozen dinner rolls on sale for $1.99. I never buy them even though I love them because they are regularly $3.48. I had a 50 cent coupon that was doubled so I paid 99 cents for them. And they were delicious with our Christmas dinner.
Some weeks I'll go to both stores. Most of the time I choose the one I can get the bigger deals. At the end of a month I will always make a trip to the other store to use my expiring coupons. If I can get a good deal, like almost free, I'll buy it and use it to stock my pantry.
So here are my grocery "secrets":
1. I buy mostly on sale items. The only things I regularly buy not on sale is milk, bread, and bananas.
2. We eat lots of fresh fruits and vegetables. We just don't know which ones we're going to be eating until the ads come out. I only buy produce that's on sale. And usually less than a dollar a pound. The fancy store had a Buddha's hand that smelled awesome and would've been a great conversation piece, but even on sale it was $12.99 a pound. I'll pass. Give me those oranges for 89 cents please.
3. If meat is on sale, like the chicken this week, I'll pick up two and freeze the second one. This is much easier to do now that we have our old refrigerator in the garage and more freezer space.
4. My store has a clearance bin where they toss items that have gotten a little damaged or someone's opened it. Every week I can get real Poptarts there for less than a dollar. The husband doesn't care if his poptarts come in a dented box. He also doesn't seem to care that they aren't always cherry anymore. I also find lots of cereal and cat food there. Two dollars for 22 cans of cat food is much better than ten dollars for 24 cans.
5. Oh, how could I forget? Store brand is good. Store brand is cheaper. There are only a few things I've found that are better in name brand. Whole berry cranberry sauce is one. Crescent rolls are another.
So that's pretty much it. You can do the same thing with The Grocery Game. They already match the sales and coupons for you so you only really have to figure out what you want to buy. I would sign up for it, but I save more money doing it myself. They charge a fee.
I think I might make this a weekly post because I have tons of other little things I do to stretch out our grocery dollar. If I posted them all now it would take up the entire page.
Do you have a money saving tip? Do tell! Post it on your own blog and leave a link or post a comment. The more money I can save means one more year of private school or stay-at-home mommyness for me, so I'm all ears!
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Sunday, January 11, 2009
So.....
You wanna know my grocery secrets, do you?
You wanna know how I feed my family of five on under four hundred bucks a month?
Lots and lots of practice.
Seriously, though. I'll start at the beginning. Are you sitting down?
Once upon a time before I was married or had children, I lived completely alone, just me and my cat, teaching elementary school children by day and vegging out on a comfy air mattress watching that new-fangled Friends sitcom by night. It was 1994 and it was the first time I'd ever lived alone. It was also the first time I was totally financially alone. I had a good job. I made pretty good money for a teacher, but alas, I had a new car payment, a new adjustable rate mortgage, and I liked to shake my early-twenty-something booty on the dance floor every weekend at a cool bar that required a hefty cover charge (five bucks, but, really! Five bucks?). I also liked air conditioning and being able to dry my hair in the morning and who knew THAT cost so much money?? Well, my dad because he reminded us daily for over eighteen years, but it had never been more apparent than the moment my first electricity bill arrived.
Man, I thought I was rich when I tore open those fold here and tear strips on my first "real" paycheck. 888.50. Oh. My. Gawd. I deposited $600 of it for my mortgage payment ($600 bucks?) and cashed the rest on the way to the fancy mall and blew it in one afternoon. I still have the blueberry Yankee Candle that was, oh, so necessary at that time. Boy that smell really takes me back.....
Oh, well, anyway, yada, yada, I was rich or so I thought and then realized, hey, I don't have any money left after I pay all these bills and staying home on a Friday night just wasn't an option and I couldn't drink beer on my friend's alimony payment forever.
So something had to give.
I wasn't that hungry back then so the groceries were the first to go. That and my work required physical showed my cholesterol to be 238 which, apparently, is pretty crazy for a 24ish year old. The first thing I did was give up meat. I ate only fruits and vegetables. I checked the cholesterol on every label and subsequently gave up many of the tasty and expensive snacks I so enjoyed. I kicked the soda habit that had been dragging me down for years. I began drinking tap water. In an old Mountaineer bottle. All day. You know, because this was before the bottled water craze began, you know, because I am OLD. I never did have my cholesterol rechecked, but I felt better. And I had a little more money in the pocketbook.
And then. Then my friend quit receiving alimony and introduced me to coupons.
Cue the trumpets and fanfare because, ALL HAIL THE COUPONS!
OMG! How did I NOT know about these things before?
1995. The year Andria learned how to shop.
To be continued........
You wanna know how I feed my family of five on under four hundred bucks a month?
Lots and lots of practice.
Seriously, though. I'll start at the beginning. Are you sitting down?
Once upon a time before I was married or had children, I lived completely alone, just me and my cat, teaching elementary school children by day and vegging out on a comfy air mattress watching that new-fangled Friends sitcom by night. It was 1994 and it was the first time I'd ever lived alone. It was also the first time I was totally financially alone. I had a good job. I made pretty good money for a teacher, but alas, I had a new car payment, a new adjustable rate mortgage, and I liked to shake my early-twenty-something booty on the dance floor every weekend at a cool bar that required a hefty cover charge (five bucks, but, really! Five bucks?). I also liked air conditioning and being able to dry my hair in the morning and who knew THAT cost so much money?? Well, my dad because he reminded us daily for over eighteen years, but it had never been more apparent than the moment my first electricity bill arrived.
Man, I thought I was rich when I tore open those fold here and tear strips on my first "real" paycheck. 888.50. Oh. My. Gawd. I deposited $600 of it for my mortgage payment ($600 bucks?) and cashed the rest on the way to the fancy mall and blew it in one afternoon. I still have the blueberry Yankee Candle that was, oh, so necessary at that time. Boy that smell really takes me back.....
Oh, well, anyway, yada, yada, I was rich or so I thought and then realized, hey, I don't have any money left after I pay all these bills and staying home on a Friday night just wasn't an option and I couldn't drink beer on my friend's alimony payment forever.
So something had to give.
I wasn't that hungry back then so the groceries were the first to go. That and my work required physical showed my cholesterol to be 238 which, apparently, is pretty crazy for a 24ish year old. The first thing I did was give up meat. I ate only fruits and vegetables. I checked the cholesterol on every label and subsequently gave up many of the tasty and expensive snacks I so enjoyed. I kicked the soda habit that had been dragging me down for years. I began drinking tap water. In an old Mountaineer bottle. All day. You know, because this was before the bottled water craze began, you know, because I am OLD. I never did have my cholesterol rechecked, but I felt better. And I had a little more money in the pocketbook.
And then. Then my friend quit receiving alimony and introduced me to coupons.
Cue the trumpets and fanfare because, ALL HAIL THE COUPONS!
OMG! How did I NOT know about these things before?
1995. The year Andria learned how to shop.
To be continued........
Thursday, January 08, 2009
Tuesday, January 06, 2009
You say it's January?
It's still Christmas at our house.
Really. The tree is still up. The stockings still hung by the chimney with care. The Christmas photos just now loaded onto the computer.
I know you're probably all holidayed out, but here's our Christmas recap. In pictures.
Jacob loved the Optimus Prime that Adam bought for him. Poor Adam, though, didn't quite understand that once he opened it, it didn't immediately return back to him.
We let the kids open their gifts from one another on Christmas Eve morning. We take them shopping separately, give them ten bucks and let them pick out for their siblings. Amazing how much they love the matchbox cars and crayons that might otherwise get pushed aside by the bigger things on Christmas morning.
We went to church on Christmas Eve. Elizabeth had to have somewhere to wear the fancy dress I couldn't pass up. You can see that the fancy headband lasted all of two minutes.
And this would've been the best. picture. ever. Think I could just pencil some eyeballs in there?
The only night of the year my boys go to bed quietly, happily, and willingly.
Elizabeth. Not so much.
I know this was Jacob's only Christmas wish, but really Santa, do you know just how many of those teeny weeny pieces are covering his floor at this moment? 799. They hurt when you step on them.
That baby sure was a big hit.
Until the Bumblebee was located.
Just let us open the presents already!
My mom gave Jacob a Nintendo DS, he asked for one, but knowing he'd probably figure out what it was, she wrapped it inside a shoe box.
Pretend there is a picture of him with the most sour look on his face because my camera never would snap for that one. It was classic. I know you shouldn't laugh at your kids, but it was truly funny. "SHOES! I didn't want SHOES!" Good times.
Adam, for the record, was happy to get shoes. Of course they were Optimus Prime shoes.
And that's about it. I refused to be a slave to the camera this year and just enjoyed the moments.
The kids probably got half of what they've received in previous years which was nicer because they were able to actually PLAY with everything. No toys left in boxes or poor misfit toys unloved in a corner. One nice thing about being poor this year.
Only 353 more days until we do it again!
Really. The tree is still up. The stockings still hung by the chimney with care. The Christmas photos just now loaded onto the computer.
I know you're probably all holidayed out, but here's our Christmas recap. In pictures.
Jacob loved the Optimus Prime that Adam bought for him. Poor Adam, though, didn't quite understand that once he opened it, it didn't immediately return back to him.
We let the kids open their gifts from one another on Christmas Eve morning. We take them shopping separately, give them ten bucks and let them pick out for their siblings. Amazing how much they love the matchbox cars and crayons that might otherwise get pushed aside by the bigger things on Christmas morning.
We went to church on Christmas Eve. Elizabeth had to have somewhere to wear the fancy dress I couldn't pass up. You can see that the fancy headband lasted all of two minutes.
And this would've been the best. picture. ever. Think I could just pencil some eyeballs in there?
The only night of the year my boys go to bed quietly, happily, and willingly.
Elizabeth. Not so much.
I know this was Jacob's only Christmas wish, but really Santa, do you know just how many of those teeny weeny pieces are covering his floor at this moment? 799. They hurt when you step on them.
That baby sure was a big hit.
Until the Bumblebee was located.
Just let us open the presents already!
My mom gave Jacob a Nintendo DS, he asked for one, but knowing he'd probably figure out what it was, she wrapped it inside a shoe box.
Pretend there is a picture of him with the most sour look on his face because my camera never would snap for that one. It was classic. I know you shouldn't laugh at your kids, but it was truly funny. "SHOES! I didn't want SHOES!" Good times.
Adam, for the record, was happy to get shoes. Of course they were Optimus Prime shoes.
And that's about it. I refused to be a slave to the camera this year and just enjoyed the moments.
The kids probably got half of what they've received in previous years which was nicer because they were able to actually PLAY with everything. No toys left in boxes or poor misfit toys unloved in a corner. One nice thing about being poor this year.
Only 353 more days until we do it again!
Sunday, January 04, 2009
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