AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 11/14/2004 07:23:00 AM ----- BODY: How I (innocently) got revenge on The Hubster I'm not posting on this site anymore, but I entered a contest entitled "Carnival of the Kids" with the entry below, and it was on this site. If you get here by COTK, and you want the link to my new blog, let me know in the comment section. This is a repost of an old entry. My van is, well, lived in. Well lived in would be a better description. I keep lots of stuff in there that I might need, in traveling around with kids. At the time of this story, I only had four. My two youngest were about a year and and half and four, a boy and a girl. Mackenzie is the girl, and being four, she was fairly recently potty trained at the time of this story. So, in my van, I usually carried at least one change of clothes for her, extra wipes and such. Not to mention the diaper bag, cups, snacks, papers and crayons, books, and various other things. My husband hates hates hates the way that my van looks. His car is always totally empty, in prime condition, which makes me look like even more of a slob. He wanted to take my car in to be cleaned and detailed, and made a rude comment "I'd like them to be able to at least find the floor. You have a whole bureau in that van!" I got really angry with him and took everything out of the van. We made the appt to have the van detailed the next day, and then we went on with our plans. We went to lunch before I had a hair appt. The plan was to eat, and I'd take his car to my hair appt. He'd take the two little kids and go pick up the big kids from school with the van. At lunch, Mackenzie needed to use the bathroom twice. Before we left the restaurant, I took her again, even though she said she didn't need to go. She is notorious for waiting until the last minute, and has had more than one accident. I left for my appt, after stressing to hubby that he didn't need to do anything, other than just go to school and get the big kids. He'd be early, so maybe a visit to the school playground could kill the time. He decided, after I left, that he had just enough time to go to Sears to order our new refrigerator. (He loves to stretch time to it's outer limits.) While talking to the saleswoman, Mackenzie said "I have to go potty." Hubby asked where the restroom was, and the salesaldy offered to take her. He let her go, and then they completed the transaction. Then he wanted to look for a radio for his office. While they were looking, she said "Daddy, I gotta go potty again." "Again?" "Yep." Ok, so they went to find the restroom. On the way there, she became distracted by the big screen tv, which was playing the movie Tarzan. Mackenzie: "Oh, Daddy, this is my favorite movie EVER! Can I watch it?" Hubby: "I thought you had to go potty." Mackenzie: "Not anymore. I wanna watch the movie!" At this point, experienced mothers know what the correct response would be - nope, we are going anyway. Hubby, on the other hand, really wanted to look at a radio, so he let her watch while he shopped nearby. About two minutes later, he had second thoughts and decided a trip to the potty was probably needed after all. He went over to her and smelled something very suspicious. Hubby: "Let's go to the potty." Mackenzie: "Why? I don't have to go anymore. I already pooped!" Hubby:"WHAT???? Oh, no!" He looked at her, and noticed that she was standing in a very liquid, brown puddle. He grabbed her up, almost gagged at the stench, set her back down and ran over to the saleslady. "Quick, where is the restroom?" "Take this walkway, down to the end, turn right, and down at the end of that row." In other words, on the other side of the store! He ran all the way, pulling her along, as she walked spraddled legged and dripping, leaving a trail all the while. "Quick, into the men's room!" Bear in mind at this point that dh didn't carry a diaper bag in with him, because he is used to me doing all of the grunt work. He rarely goes out with kids and no mommy. He goes into the handicapped stall, as it is the only one big enough to hold him and the two kids. He pulls her leggings down, and sees that her legs are completely covered and just gives up. Brand new velvet leggings, into the trash can. Panties, flushed down the toilet! Socks, new sneakers, into the trash with you! The entire time he is stripping her, the 18 month old is toddling around, and he loves the toilet, so hubby is yelling "No! Get out of the toilet! Get out of the trash, Gabe! Mackenzie, hold on to the pole and don't move!!" He goes to the sink, where he is horrified to discover that there is no soap. He wets some paper towels and rubs her legs down. She still smelled really awful, and he had no change of clothes for her. So he takes off his undershirt and puts it on her, and puts her sweater over it, figuring that, if you don't look closely, you might think that the bottom of the undershirt is a skirt. He is praying this entire time that no one comes into the restroom, as he is certain to be arrested for something truly awful. He then realizes that he has to be at school in ten minutes, and it's twenty minutes away, and he is parked on the other side of the store. So he grabs up both kids, trying not to breathe too hard because of the odor, and hauls himself around the outside of the store, trying to spare the shoppers his grief. He gets to the van, where he looks and looks through the van to find her change of clothes, roll of paper towels, and the box of wipes that is *always* there. Nothing. The van is cleaned out, of course, per his insistence. He finally spots a container of Clorox wipes, (used to clean the shopping cart handles and such), and gives her a quick rub down. He jumps in the van, drives like a lunatic across the city, and manages, through the grace of God, to only be two minutes late. When questioned about why he never got a bag from a sales agent to bring home the clothes and shoes, he was completely astonished that anyone would ever dream of doing something so repulsive. Any mother would have done exactly that! Yet, he did say that if I had thrown the clothes away, he would have been upset. He said everything was beyond salvage, and he didn't care how much it cost to replace it all, there was no way he was going to bring any of it with him. Mackenzie got some really beautiful Stride Rite sneakers for herself the next day. Now, I am allowed to carry whatever I feel I need in my van, with no questions asked. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 11/14/2004 07:23:00 AM ----- BODY: How I (innocently) got revenge on The Hubster I'm not posting on this site anymore, but I entered a contest entitled "Carnival of the Kids" with the entry below, and it was on this site. If you get here by COTK, and you want the link to my new blog, let me know in the comment section. This is a repost of an old entry. My van is, well, lived in. Well lived in would be a better description. I keep lots of stuff in there that I might need, in traveling around with kids. At the time of this story, I only had four. My two youngest were about a year and and half and four, a boy and a girl. Mackenzie is the girl, and being four, she was fairly recently potty trained at the time of this story. So, in my van, I usually carried at least one change of clothes for her, extra wipes and such. Not to mention the diaper bag, cups, snacks, papers and crayons, books, and various other things. My husband hates hates hates the way that my van looks. His car is always totally empty, in prime condition, which makes me look like even more of a slob. He wanted to take my car in to be cleaned and detailed, and made a rude comment "I'd like them to be able to at least find the floor. You have a whole bureau in that van!" I got really angry with him and took everything out of the van. We made the appt to have the van detailed the next day, and then we went on with our plans. We went to lunch before I had a hair appt. The plan was to eat, and I'd take his car to my hair appt. He'd take the two little kids and go pick up the big kids from school with the van. At lunch, Mackenzie needed to use the bathroom twice. Before we left the restaurant, I took her again, even though she said she didn't need to go. She is notorious for waiting until the last minute, and has had more than one accident. I left for my appt, after stressing to hubby that he didn't need to do anything, other than just go to school and get the big kids. He'd be early, so maybe a visit to the school playground could kill the time. He decided, after I left, that he had just enough time to go to Sears to order our new refrigerator. (He loves to stretch time to it's outer limits.) While talking to the saleswoman, Mackenzie said "I have to go potty." Hubby asked where the restroom was, and the salesaldy offered to take her. He let her go, and then they completed the transaction. Then he wanted to look for a radio for his office. While they were looking, she said "Daddy, I gotta go potty again." "Again?" "Yep." Ok, so they went to find the restroom. On the way there, she became distracted by the big screen tv, which was playing the movie Tarzan. Mackenzie: "Oh, Daddy, this is my favorite movie EVER! Can I watch it?" Hubby: "I thought you had to go potty." Mackenzie: "Not anymore. I wanna watch the movie!" At this point, experienced mothers know what the correct response would be - nope, we are going anyway. Hubby, on the other hand, really wanted to look at a radio, so he let her watch while he shopped nearby. About two minutes later, he had second thoughts and decided a trip to the potty was probably needed after all. He went over to her and smelled something very suspicious. Hubby: "Let's go to the potty." Mackenzie: "Why? I don't have to go anymore. I already pooped!" Hubby:"WHAT???? Oh, no!" He looked at her, and noticed that she was standing in a very liquid, brown puddle. He grabbed her up, almost gagged at the stench, set her back down and ran over to the saleslady. "Quick, where is the restroom?" "Take this walkway, down to the end, turn right, and down at the end of that row." In other words, on the other side of the store! He ran all the way, pulling her along, as she walked spraddled legged and dripping, leaving a trail all the while. "Quick, into the men's room!" Bear in mind at this point that dh didn't carry a diaper bag in with him, because he is used to me doing all of the grunt work. He rarely goes out with kids and no mommy. He goes into the handicapped stall, as it is the only one big enough to hold him and the two kids. He pulls her leggings down, and sees that her legs are completely covered and just gives up. Brand new velvet leggings, into the trash can. Panties, flushed down the toilet! Socks, new sneakers, into the trash with you! The entire time he is stripping her, the 18 month old is toddling around, and he loves the toilet, so hubby is yelling "No! Get out of the toilet! Get out of the trash, Gabe! Mackenzie, hold on to the pole and don't move!!" He goes to the sink, where he is horrified to discover that there is no soap. He wets some paper towels and rubs her legs down. She still smelled really awful, and he had no change of clothes for her. So he takes off his undershirt and puts it on her, and puts her sweater over it, figuring that, if you don't look closely, you might think that the bottom of the undershirt is a skirt. He is praying this entire time that no one comes into the restroom, as he is certain to be arrested for something truly awful. He then realizes that he has to be at school in ten minutes, and it's twenty minutes away, and he is parked on the other side of the store. So he grabs up both kids, trying not to breathe too hard because of the odor, and hauls himself around the outside of the store, trying to spare the shoppers his grief. He gets to the van, where he looks and looks through the van to find her change of clothes, roll of paper towels, and the box of wipes that is *always* there. Nothing. The van is cleaned out, of course, per his insistence. He finally spots a container of Clorox wipes, (used to clean the shopping cart handles and such), and gives her a quick rub down. He jumps in the van, drives like a lunatic across the city, and manages, through the grace of God, to only be two minutes late. When questioned about why he never got a bag from a sales agent to bring home the clothes and shoes, he was completely astonished that anyone would ever dream of doing something so repulsive. Any mother would have done exactly that! Yet, he did say that if I had thrown the clothes away, he would have been upset. He said everything was beyond salvage, and he didn't care how much it cost to replace it all, there was no way he was going to bring any of it with him. Mackenzie got some really beautiful Stride Rite sneakers for herself the next day. Now, I am allowed to carry whatever I feel I need in my van, with no questions asked. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 11/08/2004 11:06:00 AM ----- BODY: Stay tuned.... I'm moving my blog to a new location. If you want the addy, email me or post your request here. If I know you, I'll send you the new link. I'm thinking about moveable type. That way, I have access to blacklist. Anyone with experience with MT? Pros or cons? Another server that awesome? Let me know. Edited to add: I think I've screwed up my comment section. Wait a while, and I'll see if I can get it running again. If not, I'll figure out a way to get you the new url. Edited again, cuz I am a nerd: I think it's fixed. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 11/07/2004 01:20:00 PM ----- BODY: Before I had kids Before I had kids, I thought I knew everything. I had worked as a nanny for four years, after all. I knew diapers, bottles, and strollers. How much more was there to learn? I had no idea how much there was I didn't know. Before I had kids I thought I knew a fair amount about numerous and varied subjects. Now that I have kids, I never realized that I was such an idiot. I remember asking my mom questions, and her answers were usually "I don't know." I pledged, sometime in my 14th year, that no matter what my child would ask, I would always have a ready answer. Riiiight. Most of the time, I haven't recovered from the first question enough to answer the subsequent ones. and there are times when I flat out just don't want to answer one.more.question. Before I had kids, I never knew that one rug could contain so much sand. We have a sand box in our back yard, and it holds about 2 tons of sand. We have to replace this sand every year, and I'm certain that almost all of it gets vacummed up. By me. Before I had kids, I never knew that raisins, corn and peas come out pretty much the way they went in. I didn't know exactly how many soccer games I would watch, in either freezing cold or blistering heat. I didn't know what it would feel like to see my daughter carried off the field, when she was hit with a soccer ball in the stomach. I didn't know what it would feel like to see my one week old daughter intubated. Or to see her lose consciousness, right after. I didn't know how it would feel when my daughter, at 14 months, was hospitalized for rotavirus, or when she broke her leg at age 4. Before I had kids, I was smug about food. I love food. Any kind of food. Those people with kids who don't eat - well, they just didn't know what I did. Give the kid the food and make him eat. Whoo-boy! Was I in for it. I didn't know there were so many ways to disguise meat in casseroles, or vegetables in sauces. I still can't figure out how to hide the chicken, though. I didn't know that I could survive on 2 hours of sleep. Or that I would argue for hours with my husband over the stupidest stuff. I didn't know that I would define matronly with my looks, after having 6 babies in 12 years. And that I would be comfortable with my shape. I didn't know I would buy $48 stride rites, and do so without a shiver. Or $30 ballet shoes. Or a wool diaper cover for $30. I have amazed myself by being strong in confrontations with teachers and principals. By standing up to the doctor who made fun of me for being pregnant again, and wrote the Hubster a prescription for a vasectomy. Vocalizing my displeasure with the allergist's receptionist who decorated her desk with potpourri. Before I had kids, I never knew that my heart could ride outside my body. I didn't know that the equilibrium of my day could go south so fast, based upon the sleeping patterns of a 12 pound body. Or that there could be such joy in coloring. In short, I didn't know anything. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 11/01/2004 07:36:00 AM ----- BODY: Anticipation and frustration Unless you live under a rock, or in Japan or something, you know that yesterday was Halloween. The Hubster has worked every single Halloween since we have had kids. Every one. I asked that he be off this year. After all, it was a Sunday, and the dealership is supposed to only be open two Sundays a month. Key word in that sentence is supposed. About six months ago, there was a decision that they would not be open on Sunday any more, but instead stay open later on Saturday - close at 9 versus close at 6. That lasted for one whole month - after all, they weren't tracking the numbers that the big bosses wanted - Oh, what a surprise! - and the powers that be decided that Sundays were necessary. We were double screwed in that one; now, he works later on Saturday, as well as the Sundays. The head of his department is a man I'll call Horace. It's a name that suits him. He is such a slacker that I almost can't stand to look at him. He gets off two days a week, plus a half day, and rarely works Sundays. Last month, he worked once Sunday, and The Hubster worked three. He complains all the time that he has to work such long hours that he never gets to see his four year old son. He has off every Halloween, because, after all, he has a child. What do I have? At last count, six of 'em. Well, yesterday they were supposed to close at 5. Promptly at 5, and he'd leave immediately. The Hubster promised the kids he'd be there for them this year. They counted the hours all day. We went to his job in costume to trick or treat, and he promised them he'd be home before we went out. I don't know which was more exciting - the actual trick or treating, or the fact that Daddy would be there. 5:00 came and went, and we went out for trick or treating at 5:40. No Hubster. I watched for him all night, between keeping track of the kids and making sure no one ate anything. We got home at 6:30 - no Daddy. I called his job - no answer. I hoped that he was on his way. I put the kids to bed, after letting them eat some candy. I called again, and got him. He was still at work. He had customers. Lots of them. Yeah, I get it. It's his job. But, damnit, so what? It wasn't just any Sunday - it was Halloween, and the kids were counting on him to be there. I pulled the schedule for November, and screamed in frustration. See, the Hubster has a week of vacation, and I'm really looking forward to his just being home. But, Horace has a week of vacation too - only his is 10 days long. Plus 4 more days off, and he is off 14 days in the month. Plus four days that he gets off at 4. AND, the Hubster has to work on MY BIRTHDAY. Horace is off for his kids birthday's, and his wife, and his own, and his anniversary. And National Pig day, and any other day he feels like he should be off. Horace's wife had the nerve to complain to me this past week that her husband works so many hours that she never sees him and she feels like he doesn't spend time with his son. Um, look at me. And, I'm tired of it. I try to be supportive - it's his job, and I knew the deal when we got married. It's just hard, ya know? It's hard to be the mom and the dad all the time. The Hubster has complained to the higher ups in the past, and it gets better, for a week or two. But, now, the department is one person short, and the hours are getting longer. There is no desire to hire another person. I keep reminding myself of my girlfriend, who has six kids and a husband in the Navy. He's going to Afghanistan, for a second tour. She's got it so much harder than I do. I really have no right to complain. I'm just so frustrated. And whiny. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/31/2004 10:50:00 AM ----- BODY: A funny from a while ago...... Reading a story about a black mother who was asked by a visiting child if the mother made chocolate milk (while she was breastfeeding the baby) reminded me of a funny story that happened to us, after the birth of Emma. We have friends who struggle with infertility, and they were blessed to be chosen to adopt a baby. The little girl came home to them a week before I went into labor with Emma. Mackenzie was fascinated by their baby, who was a very dark skinned African baby. When the Hubster made the call to tell our children that their sister had arrived, Mackenzie asked several questions about her - she was very excited. Finally, she got onto the phone with me and said "Mommy, what color baby did we get?" When I told her that her sister was white, just like the rest of our family, she said, "Oh, darn! I really wanted a black baby! They are so cute! Maybe next time!" The Hubster and I are as pale as they come, so if this was to happen, I think there would be some explaining to do! -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/31/2004 05:09:00 AM ----- BODY: Daylight Savings Time I wonder how many people were up at the butt crack of dawn this morning. Mackenzie will do really well in a job that requires her to get up before the entire rest of the world. And she's so flippin' cheerful about it too. See the time stamp? We've already been up, oh, 30 minutes.......... -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/29/2004 10:30:00 PM ----- BODY: Friday Forum Meme Just for kicks: 1)Starting with your head down to your toes, what health/beauty products have you used/applied to your body so far today? [For example, shampoo, toothpaste, makeup, cologne/perfume, nail polish, etc.] Catwalk shampoo and conditioner, phisoderm face wash, olay regenerist serum - kind of a moisturizer, Crest Vanilla mint toothpaste, Lever soap, victoria's Secret Pear Glace perfume, Degree deodorant, and Burt's Bees lip gloss. I think that's it, and enough of a walking commercial. Geez. 2. Do you have a ritual when you take a shower, such as washing your hair first or maybe even brushing your teeth in the shower? If so, what? Do you prefer baths or showers? Wash hair first, clean face second, rinse conditioner third. After that, anything's fair game. :) I haven't taken a bath since I was in labor with Emma. 3. How do you get yourself up and going in the mornings? Coffee? A hot shower? Breakfast? Would you consider yourself a morning person at all? When do you usually get up? I didn't used to be a morning person, but I can see now how I could get there. I have a cold coffee frappuccino every morning, while I check my email, my blog and my favorite web site really quickly for overnight developments. I don't get a shower until the big kids leave for school - if I'm not driving them. 4. Do you normally eat breakfast? What do you usually have? Do you usually make it at home or go out for breakfast, or do you prefer not to eat breakfast? I rarely eat breakfast. If I am hungry, which isn't usual for me, I may have eggs and cheese, or toast. Every once in a while, I'll get an egg and cheese biscuit fro Hardee's. If we go out, I will always eat breakfast - but I'm not much on cooking it. Probably because I like complicated breakfasts - egg casserole, omelets, skillets, 5. What does your alarm clock sound like? A buzzer, music, or something else? Do you ever set your clock fast so that you push yourself to get ready sooner? Are you usually on time, late, or somewhere in-between? It's a buzzer that goes off, for the first time, at 5 minutes before 6. I hit the snooze, and grab 8 more minutes of sleep. Sometimes I just lay there and think about everything that I have to do. I go into the bathroom, use the facilities, fumble around until I find my glasses, take my medicine, and stare at myself in the mirror to pysch myself up for another day. Then I get out of bed, plaster on my smiley happy mommy face, and start to rattle the cages of the kids. Probably more about me than you wanted to know, eh? -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/29/2004 03:58:00 PM ----- BODY: Singing my brains out Well, for my three readers, and you over there in the corner, sorry I’ve been so absent . Baby Riley’s been fighting sleep - apparently, she gave it up for Lent, a few months early. Between the fact that she's got an ear infection in one ear, and a ruptured eardrum in the other, and Allegra's asthma attack, I’ve been to the pediatrician’s office three times this week. I think next week is the dedication of our very own wing in the office. So, yesterday, I was driving around and Gabe asked if I could play a song for him. He requested “Raise up our glasses”. Otherwise known as “Beer for my horses”, a duet between Toby Keith and Willie Nelson. The first time through, he just listened to the song, and I took the opportunity to really belt it out. I love me a good song, even though I am the worst singer imaginable. “Turn it up again, Mom! I LOVE this song!” Ok, no sweat. I am alllll about a good song. “Well a man come on the six o’clock news, Somebodys been shot, Why did he get shot? Somebody’s been abused, Somebody blew up a building, What is blew up? Somebody stole a car, Who stole a car? Somebody got away somebody didn’t get too far, yeah.” Why didn’t he get too far? Where was he going? Grandpappy told my pappy “Back in my day, son A man had to answer for the wicked that he’d done What’s wicked? Take all the rope in Texas, find a tall oak tree Round up all of them bad boys, hang them high in the street, Hang who in the street? For all the people to see.” That justice is the one thing you can always find, You’ve got to saddle up your boys, you’ve gotta draw a hard line Saddle up what boys? When the gunsmoke settles, we’ll sing a victory tune, And we’ll all meet back at the local saloon. What is a saloon? We’ll raise up our glasses against evil forces, singing, Like Star Wars? Whiskey for my man, beer for my horses.” What’s whiskey? Why beer? I turned the CD off. No point in listening to the second verse. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/26/2004 09:41:00 PM ----- BODY: Gabriel's birthday So, I'm a day late. So sue me. I've had the Hubster home. 'nuff said. Yesterday was Gabe's birthday. My little man is five. I can't believe it. FIVE. I was induced with him, due to being postdates. His due date was calculated, with the help of my charts, as being October 11. When I went for my 36 week check, I had an internal, because I ASKED FOR ONE. I know, what kind of sick person am I that I actually asked for an internal exam?? The entire week before had been filled with contractions, and I was convinced that I was progressing. The nurse smirked at me, and went down the hall to spread the gossip of "the woman who requested an internal!" Whooppee. I was found to be 4 centimeters. Woo-hoo! The ob was amazed, and told me to go home and pack my bag - I'd be holding my sweet baby any day. She said the same at my 37 week check - 4 cms, any day now. And at the 38 week check. And the 39. At 39 weeks, she stripped my membranes, an extremely uncomfortable procedure that usually brings on labor. I returned for my 40 week check. Had the membranes stripped again. I was *heartily* sick of this pattern, and yet on it went. The 41 week check - stripped yet again, and offered an induction. Which she was certain that I wouldn't need, as I was going to be holding my baby any time now. Ocotber 25 - officially 14 days over, and I checked myself into the hospital bright and early. The Hubster was in charge of getting the older three kids to their respective schools, and was going to meet me later. The night before, I had done a course of castor oil, and was wildly uncomfortable all night, but still no labor. The contractions that had plagued me at 36 and 37 weeks had stopped by 38, and I hadn't felt another. I had tried the black cohosh, the blue cohosh, the frequent sex, the mexican foods, the chinese foods, the bumpy rides. All of it. I was sooo sick of being pregnant. The doctor broke my water, and told me to walk the halls. The halls that just happened to be under construction. I walked for two hours. I dodged the jackhammers, the ladders, and the inquisitve stares of the workers. Guess they had never seen a hugely pregnant woman, wearing two hospital gowns and trailing water. Glamorous, I was not. I walked, and walked. I never had a contraction. 10:00, and I went for a check. I was *still* four centimeters. The same as I had been for SIX WEEKS. I sat with the monitor strapped on for the required fifteen minutes, and got up and began the hospital walk again. I walked until noon. I came back, and nothing. Not one measley contraction; not one. When the Hubster returned, I consented to the pitocin drip. Labor came fast and hard after that. I rocked in the rocker, and hung out over the side of the bed. At 2:31, I began to push, and with two pushes, Gabriel was born. He went straight into a Laboyer bath - given by The Hubster. 7 pounds, 6 ounces. I was the talk of the labor floor - I had gone the longest of any recent pregnancy, the longest without labor starting after breaking my water bag, and the only patient in memory to be induced with pitocin and no pain medication. He was one of my two children to score a 10 on the Apgar. He is now a bright, sunny cheerful boy. Today, we had his checkup at the doctor. He is 34 pounds and 40 inches. He's smaller than he should be, but he's had so many steroids for breathing that he may have lost a few inches. As the doctor said, though, it's better to breath and be a bit shorter. He makes up jokes all the time. At school, the teacher calls him her "giggle bunny", and says he can get the entire class laughing in just a minute. The doctor today told him to hop on one leg, as a test of his balance, and Gabe jumped up on the doctor's leg. Get it? He hopped on one leg. It was hysterical, and so typical of Gabe. Everything is black and white for him, with no shades of gray. He loves trains, SpiderMan, playdough, riding his bike, and gymnastics. Mommy loves you, sweetie. Happy birthday. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/22/2004 10:33:00 AM ----- BODY: If only you were a better mother..... There is a discussion board that I frequent, one I've been a member of for quite a while now, since right after G was born. In fact, I'm coming up on my five year anniversary there. I love it. I love the topics of conversation, and I've made some of my best friends ever there. Once a year, I try to make a trip to get together with some of the other women. We always have a great time - it's like a sorority reunion. There was an instance once, with a woman who came on, and stirred up a bunch of trouble. Many feelings were hurt, and a few people left the boards. I left for a while, but missed my friends too much and came back. These women have been there for me during pregnancies, births, stressful situations with my children, arguments with my husband, and the general minutiae of life. Lately, we've been discussing what would make you a better mother. Most of it lighthearted - in fact, it's become a running joke - "Well, that wouldn't happen if you were a better mother." So, here is what would or wouldn't happen in my life, if only I was a better mother....... - Emma wouldn't go outside and take off all her clothes every time I let her out to swing and slide. - Gabriel wouldn't bite his siter. - Allegra wouldn't try to hang out with the "popular" crowd, but instead would love to be with true friends. - Nikolas would never have trouble with bullies. - My children would only want to watch educational programs. In another language. - There would be no need to do laundry daily, since they would never spill on their clothes, sweat, or get dirty. - I would never realize that a child's feet had grown by seeing the imprints of the shoes on their feet. - Gabe wouldn't go to school without his shoes. - My children would *hate* to eat fast food. - Their dressers would be tidy and all the clothes would be neatly folded inside. - No one would have kudos bars in their lunch, or be signed up for hot dog lunch today at school. - Emma wouldn't be an addict to her "bubbie".(pacifier, for the uninitiated) - No one would wake before 6:00 on school days, 8:00 on the weekend, and all would take two hours naps. And go to bed at 7 cheerfully. And sleep all night, with no bad dreams/need for water/cold/hot/want to see another person. - I wouldn't forget to send a snack to school with Allegra on soccer days - when she has a two hour practice immediately after school. - I'd never have to make a run to school for left behind lunches/instruments/permission slips/PE clothes. - There wouldn't be days when I went to a drive thru, just to get french fries, so that Riley would just.stop .crying for one minute. - I wouldn't worry if I'm yelling so loudly that I should close the windows for fear of the neighbors calling child protective. - I would never find Riley crawling around with bits of tissue in her mouth. Used ones, sometimes. - My kids would all wear only hand made clothing and sleep under handmade blankets. In short, if I was a better mother, it'd be boring. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/21/2004 10:31:00 PM ----- BODY: Personal faults We've all got them. My worst, I think, would have to be my insatiable need to always be right. I have the hardest time recognizing that other people's opinions have some validity. It's not always about me. Case in point: take this weekend. Please. Just take it. It was about 59 degrees when we were leaving for soccer on Saturday morning, with a forecasted high of 67. I planned carefully what everyone would wear, since it can be cool at soccer. The soccer player in question had her jersey on, with a turtleneck under. She also had on leggings under her shorts. The other kids had long sleeved shirts and long pants, and I told them all to grab a jacket. They might not need it, but at least they'd have it. My father in law came to the game with us, and he and my husband were both convinced that it was the beginning of the Artic season. They told the kids, on three different occasions each, to get heavy winter coats and gloves. And WHERE were their hats??? Now, it just so happens that while we are at soccer for one kid, all the others take a spare ball and play on an empty field, so they stay active, and thus warm. So, unless it's 10 degrees outside, they don't need a coat. I do soccer games every week - I know this stuff. But, my father in law kept on. And kept on. And kept on. It was really annoying me too. It felt like an insinuation that I wasn't doing a good job at taking care of my kids. I tried to ignore it, but as we walked out the door, he asked once more, with a note of panic in his voice. "Don't they have coats??" I just lost it, and snapped back, "Of course they have coats. They are in the closet, where they belong, waiting for WINTER. I know how to dress my kids. Just. drop. it." Not the nicest answer, but I was soooo sick of it. But, really. It wasn't about me. Why did I take it as a slam on my parenting? Because I always want to be right. I can't stand to be wrong. I think I need to work on humility as a character trait. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/20/2004 08:25:00 AM ----- BODY: Jeans When I wear these low rise jeans, my first pair ever, I feel like I should have on suspenders. Note: I am neither long nor lean, but I like these jeans. Hey, a girl can dream, right??? -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/19/2004 09:37:00 PM ----- BODY: The 40 hour day Oh, my God. I NEVER thought this day would come to an end. Suffice to say, I hope I never have another like this. It was such a spectacular day of horse manure that I'm actually having a drink, and most of you know that I rarely drink. Kids woke up crabby and struggled to remain vertical. Everyone asked for oatmeal for breakfast - in particular, oatmeal "with cream, like your friend's little boy!" (My friend Princess gave her son oatmeal with cream when we vacationed together, and HE licked the spoon, it was so good. Not my kids. Nope. No way.) Fourty -five minutes of "Eat! Your! Oatmeal!!" followed by second helpings of "You won't have another breakfast this week until you finish this bowl!", and I finally admitted defeat. Guess what is for breakfast tomorrow?? I turned around after they left and found the two lunches that I packed STILL ON THE COUNTER. So, a trip to the school, after dropping Gabe off at preschool. The Hubster called and asked if I could drop his paycheck off at the bank. I had to ask him twice, since I couldn't hear. Nope, no problem with my ears, it was the dueling screaming sisters. I made the dumb mistake of driving with my windows open, and couldn't figure out why people were staring at me. Yup, they were *that* loud. I decided to get a cup of coffee on the way to the bank, and realized I had no a) wallet b) driver's license c) magic money card d) cash e) phone f) starbucks cash card. I was soooo screwed. I convinced the teller to please let me keep $5 out of the Hubster's paycheck, got the coffee, came home and did the bills. What joy! What fun! What supreme bliss! Next month, I think I'd rather cut my own hair than do the bills. Oh, how I hate the bills! To reward myself, I took myself and the three little ones to lunch, at a buffet. Brrriiinnngg!!! My phone rang. (Well, not really rang, as it plays Toccata and Fugue in D major, so it sang, but whatever.) It was the school nurse, with my incredibly ill 9 year old daughter. She had a fever, of 100. Nope, not a mistype. 100 degrees. This was after recess, coming into a warm classroom and not having any water. So, another unscheduled trip to the school. I put her in the van, where my incredibly ill daughter drove me nuts with the questions. The questions! They burn my brain! "How long can a person survive without fresh air? How long without water? What happens to the water you drink? What is Viagra? What is the electoral college? Can we get a hamburger? How about some fries? Why are you so crabby?" She's going to school tomorrow, you can bet on that. Upon our return home, we commenced with the daily "Why can't we get a dog?" argument. It seems that The Hubster told the kids that we could get a dog, if only I would agree. Nuh huh. Nooo way. I hate dogs. Hate everything about them. I am so not an animal person at all. I got bit once, and have the scar to prove it. I clean up enough poop and pee from the kids, I'm not doing it for a dog. All valid arguments on my side, but they don't hold water with the kids. So we revisit the topic daily, with their hope that I have developed amnesia. The girls had Nutcracker rehearsal with the visiting Russian ballerina, who apparently has never had the pleasure of learning to tell time. Rehearsal for Mackenzie ended 30 minutes late, and Allegra's started late and ended 40 minutes late. Bedtime was obscenely late, the laundry was all over the house, the peas from dinner decorated the floor. It feels like it should be tomorrow afternoon already. If tomorrow's not better, and you can't find me, just look for me with my head inside my gas oven. Somebody pass the booze. Hic. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/13/2004 09:11:00 PM ----- BODY: Sweeties! Aren't those two of the sweetest faces ever??? -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/13/2004 08:59:00 PM ----- BODY:
Updated shot of Emma in one of my favorite outfits  -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/13/2004 08:58:00 PM ----- BODY:
Updated shot of baby Riley  -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/12/2004 01:10:00 PM ----- BODY: It's a pissy, pissy day Didja ever have a day when every single thing just pisses you off no end? It started with my second, no, third meeting in three school days with the principal. My 7th grader is being bullied, big time. Since the school has made it a huge deal that they are a no bullying, no wait, a NO BULLYING zone, I foolishly thought that something might be done. There have been many meetings, papers sent home and lectures about how the school will not tolerate any bullying. I'm not seeing the proof this week. This jerk of a kid that is picking on him has been bugging him since, oh, third grade. This year has been the worst. He's been tripped in the hall, joked in the classroom, called stupid, called a vile name (replace the N from his name with a D, and you'll see what I mean), and generally harrassed. The final straw for me was the comment on Friday. "You are so dumb - you come from a family of stupid. Your parents have so many kids because they have no self control and don't know how to stop!" I wheeled the van around, and went into the office and waited until someone saw me. I don't think I was very pleasant, when I told the secretary, who acts as if anyone in the office is upsetting her routine, that I wasn't leaving until she got me either the principal or vice principal. They were both suitably upset, and had me bring Nikolas into the office on Monday morning, so they could talk to him before school started. They promised that nothing further would happen, and cautioned him not to tell others that he had spoken to them. Apparently, they wanted to check with some other kids, to see if it was all true. When those kids went back to class, they told all the others what was going on. Big, bad move. Child Idiot got wind of the questioning, and went after my son again. So, yesterday was a day full of his grumping and griping at his siblings. Full of arguments and "I hate you!" and him taking his frustration out on his family. We ended the evening with both big kids getting screamed at for their constant fighting. Not one of my better parenting moments. But, damnit, I am so tired of the arguing. I know that he feels really awful about the way Child Idiot is treating him, and I can understand his frustration. I just want this situation taken care of, now!!!!!! He went back into the office this morning, and told the principal what happened, and she told him that she was not done dealing with this. I certainly hope not, as she's done NOTHING YET. So, that was the first frustration. Then my coffee order was wrong, and I had no time to fix it. I realized that I've got to sew a nun costume for Mackenzie's parade of saints next week, and I don't know what I'm doing. I took Emma for a walk, and now my knees hurt. I've got people coming for lunch tomorrow, and two of my very favorite friends aren't able to come. And I don't know what I'm serving. And my house is a tip. We were supposed to go pick out flooring today, and instead I got to watch the Hubster wash his new-to-him suburban, the one with the lift kit and the off road tires. What a man thing. Grrr. I think I should reread my grateful list from last week. I've got PMS biiiiig time. Chocolate, anyone? -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/10/2004 01:37:00 PM ----- BODY: We all encounter adversity in our lives. Once in a while, however, a crisis comes along that tests our ability to bounce back; we wonder whether this will be "it", the apocalyptic event that shatters our dreams and leaves us battered and broken. In most cases, however, we manage to dig deep enough to pull ourselves back up and emerge, if not better people, than at least less neurotic than we used to be. For this Blogging for Books, write about a time you were pushed to the brink of insanity (figuratively or literally), and how you lived to tell the tale. A Relationship with Karen I glanced at the clock, and sighed with relief. 9:30. Time to clock out, and go home. Being 7 months pregnant and working an eight hour shift selling clothes at JCPenney's was really hard on me. I wanted nothing more than the chance to go home and collapse into bed. The day before, I had worked my second job, a two day a week stint teaching ballet and pointe, so I was just wiped out. And in no condition to deal with any problems. I slid my time card in the slot, got my jacket, and lumbered down the stairs, to wait for my husband, who was picking me up that evening. To pass the time, I thought about the baby inside. My husband wasn't very into the baby. Don't get me wrong, he was excited. He just wasn't interested in reading the books, planning the nursery, or looking at the cute clothes. He tuned out when I read stuff to him, and changed the subject if I brought up the birth. We had yet to buy a crib, or dresser, or really anything that we needed. I had bought a cradle, and was in the process of designing the nursery in our two bedroom apartment. I was hoping to spend the weekend getting ready for the baby. We still needed to firm up the name, and wash the clothes, and... Sigh. Lots to do. My husband pulled up, and I made my way to the car. I almost wept with relief as my lower back uncurled and I was able to relax for the first time all day. "Hi, sweetie. How was your day? The baby was so active, and I.. What's wrong? You look like someone died!" "Liz called." My stomach dropped. Whenver Liz called, his ex-wife only wanted one thing. To cause trouble. This wasn't my first experience with her. She never abided by the court rulings for visitation, and we hardly saw the children. We heard plenty from her, though. "What does she want now, more money? She already gets more than half of your check. We can barely live on what's left! And I'll be out of work soon, and the baby will be here. We have no money at all, and tons of bills due." "No, that's not it. Karen's in trouble again. She's involved with the wrong crowd, and Liz doesn't want her anymore. If I don't take her, she will be signed over to the state." Oh, shit. Not again. Thirteen year old Karen was the middle of my husband's three children, and the one who caused the most trouble. Her parents didn't do much to help her, as whenever she made the wrong choices she was allowed to move to the other parent's house. She was never made to face her problems, but allowed to run away. She had already lived with us twice. Neither time had gone well. "What do you mean?" "I mean, she's on a plane tomorrow morning. She'll be here at 9. We are going home, and we've got to get the baby's room ready for her. We can buy her a bed tomorrow with the crib money, and we'll get the crib later. All of the baby stuff needs to be out of that room tonight, so I can clean it for her." "WHAT??? That room is for the baby! You can't be serious!" "She's my daughter - what do you want me to do? You'll understand when you have a child." Was it possible that I could hate her more than I already did? The next day dawned bright, clear and cold. We bundled up and went to the airport to get Karen. She came off the plane with ragged clothes and spiked hair, and a petulant pout on her pretty face. She ran to her Daddy, hugged and kissed him, and ignored me. Only after my husband had requested that she acknowledge me did she snipe a greeting in my direction. Lovely. This was going to just be great. We got home, and got her unpacked. A quick trip that morning to the Wal-Mart had yielded a twin bed and dresser. She came into the room, and immediately declared it not worth her time. Over the course of the next week, we purchased a new futon and cover, new clothes, and shoes. She had very few undergarments, and almost nothing that was worth saving. We met with the school board, to get her into a school that we not not districted for, since she had ruined her chances at the local school on her previous attempt living in our house. We found a counselor. We found another counselor. And a third. My husband worked exceedingly long hours, leaving the two of us to hash it out every night. She didn't want me to discipline her. Money was really non-existent, as I went on maternity leave, and we still had to pay child support for all the kids, even with Karen living with us. No matter what, if she wanted it, she got it. We pinched pennies until they bled. We ate rice a roni for dinner. We went deeply into debt for both outpatient and inpatient care. We had our power disconnected twice, our phone four times. We lost cable for three months, and had the water cut off once. In a last ditch effort to be able to have some extra funds, we let the car insurance lapse. On advice from the counselors, we medicated her for bi-polar, manic depressive, depression, and various other conditions. The meds would help for a while, and then a new problem would arise. The baby was born, and any progress that we thought we had made disappeared. She ran away three times. I went for the mail once, leaving the baby asleep in his cradle, and came back from the 100 yard walk to hear him wailing. After much yelling, she told me she had punched him, a 6 week old baby, in the stomach. She told me, "I'm going to do whatever I can to break you and my father up. I hate you and your brat." My husband made excuses for her: "Surely you misunderstood her. She didn't hurt the baby, or say those things. How would you feel if your parents had divorced?" I took her to more therapy. We discovered she was drinking, and using drugs. As much as I could, I tried with her. It was so hard. I felt unappreciated, and as if Karen was the woman of the house. I felt as if I were drowning in a sea of chaos, and my husband was pouring water on. He was trying, though not in a way that I felt was good for us. It was good for Karen. But, he was doing the best that he knew. He was stuck between his wife, his ex and his child. No one was happy. Our former happy life was reduced to arguments and discussions about how to handle Karen. The thing that drove me to the brink of insanity was the car accident. August 10, 1992. Our three month old son had been ill the night before, and I took him to the doctor's office. On the way home, he vomited, and aspirated. He turned blue and limp, and quit breathing. I let go of the wheel to grab for him, buckled in his car seat next to me, and I hit a car. Which hit a car, and that car hit a car. And we had no insurance. When the ambulance came, all I could do was cry. There was no way out of this. I had caused a major accident, demolished my car, hurt myself, something was wrong with my son. My husband came to the hospital, and we argued furiously. "How could you do this? We are uninsured, and certain to get sued!" "It's not like I could help it!" Karen sat in the background, looking more and more upset, and finally blurted out, "What about my birthday party???" Yup. She was scheduled to hold a party that night at our house, and was worried that it wouldn't go on. I could not believe her selfishness, and told her so. My husband jumped to her defense, and informed me that, since I was not truly injured, her party would still go on. All I could do was stare at both of them in shock. That night, I hid upstairs in the bedroom, too upset to speak to anyone. The music blared, and my head pounded in sync. I had suffered a fairly severe concussion and was supposed to be resting. What was going on here?? I packed up the baby, grabbed a few diapers, and drove myself to a quiet place. I sat and nursed the baby, and cried until I had no more tears. How had this all come about? As the hours went by, it became clear to me that something had to change. I waited until the party was over, and returned home. I told my husband that it would be me or Karen. This was it; I just could not handle anymore. Karen decided that she didn't want to live with us anymore, called her mother, and arranged to return to her house the next day. Just like that, it was over. She was gone. Over the next five years, she came back to us again, and spent time in three different institutions. It was different, though, as my husband and I were finally on the same page in our dealings with her. She became pregnant and had a child, and has blossomed into someone that I can converse with. We are close now. We chat on the phone weekly. She has a job, and an apartment. I still can't believe some of the stuff that she put me through. I hated who she was as a teen, and how she made me crazy. but I'm proud of who she has become. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/06/2004 11:08:00 AM ----- BODY: 25 things about The Hubster I think, no, I KNOW, that I don't always give The Hubster the credit he's due. Yeah, he aggravates me a lot. He can't seem to figure out where the dirty dishes go, never mind the dirty laundry. He never thinks he's wrong, ever. I find myself repeating things over and over to him, and he never remembers when I tell him stuff. But, there's good about him too, and so, without furthur ado, I'd like to present some good stuff about The Hubster. 1) He is generous to a fault. It drives me crazy sometimes. We tithe our 10%, or fairly close to it, on a pretty regular basis. But, he will do above and beyond. He paid for his dad's car to be repainted - he told him he'd pay about $300, and it ended up costing $1000. He's having the seat in the same car repaired. He gives donations to any and all who ask, and even those who don't. The kids love to go shopping with him, since they always come home with new stuff. He helps out family members, with cash, bills, home repairs, and ear to listen. He never grumbles about it, like I do. 2)He makes me laugh, and laugh, and laugh. He is one of the funniest people that I've ever met. He's got a super sense of humor,and he has been the fodder for some of my best blog writing ever. Remember the poop story, and the super glue? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 3) He has a gorgeous singing voice. He cantors every Sunday at the 7 a.m. Mass, and for weddings and funerals, if asked. He sings at home all time. He doesn't have the memory for the words, but, man, can he sing. People come up to me in the school parking lot all the time to compliment him. 4)He can fix anything. And I mean anything. Right after we were married, he decided that he wanted to have the locks on our apartment door rekeyed. He removed the handle and took the lock apart, laying all the pieces out on the table. He looked over at me, with a grin, and said "I've never done this before. I have no idea what I'm doing." Damned if it didn't come out perfect, and with two leftover parts. He can figure out how to repair or redo any thing that we ask him to do. Sometimes, it drives me crazy. I want to be able to do some of this stuff, and I can't, and he can. At least it gets done. He can build anything he wants, and it *always* comes out perfect. Sometimes, I hate him for this. 5) He is a great father. Despite the fact that he yells too much. I yell too much too. (As an aside, a new parent to the school asked me how she should prepare her daughter for the teacher she was assigned this year, one who has a rep for yelling. The mother said, "My child has never been yelled at!" either she's delusional, or we yell too much. Probably both.) Right now, he is walking Emma around the block on her bike, just so I can have some quiet time to write. He is buying a used Suburban, and the main reason is that the kids like it. He takes the kids for walks, and they always end up at 7-11, for slurpees and candy. He spends a lot of time doing things with the kids - swimming, bike riding, trips to the Y, the beach. He once ran a 1K with Nikolas, even though he wasn't in shape, just because Nikolas wanted to. We held up yellow tape for them to run through at the end of the race. He plays cars on the floor with Gabe whenever he's got a day off. 6) He is very religious. Way more so than me. In fact, he took a trip to Italy, to determine if he had a calling to the priesthood. Thank goodness for me he didn't! He runs a daily prayer group at his job, he holds a monthly rosary presentation at church. The presentation is complete with slides and dramatic readings. He lives his faith too - in fact, he does so more than some priests I know. He has an hour of Eucharistic Adoration, every Wednesday night from 11-12 p.m. 7) He can't dance. At all. Good grief, it was funny, the first time we went dancing. He moved from the waist up, with his feet planted firmly on the floor. I have seen him, though, do that dance move where you get down on the floor and twirl your legs around in a circle, through your arms and back. Kind of like clock hands, you know? Not a very clear explanation, but it's a twirly, spinny thing that I've seen rappers do. It made for a disturbingly funny photo. 8) He surprises me almost every day. There have been days when I have woken up to find the rooms repainted, or the furniture moved. Or the laundry folded, or ironing done. Or, he comes home with a treat for me, be it a cup of coffee or a cookie. 9) He constantly tells other people that I am a great mother. 10) He tells everyone that I'm much smarter than he is. May be true, may not. 11) He doesn't argue (usually) when I want to eat out. 12) He is a great employee. I'd hire him in a minute. He works longer hours than anyone else, staying after until all his paperwork is finished. He holds great retention in his numbers, and his office is full of glowing letters from customers. In fact, I run into people all the time, who have done business with him, and they tell me how much they love him. It gets annoying, after a while, cuz no one loves me that much, but I'll get over it. 13)He is a neat freak. It drives me nuts, but our house does look pretty good. 14) Before we had children, when I worked in a tourist area, he came to pick me up when I worked late, just to drive me to my car. 15) He loves Italian foods. And chocolate chip cookies, and brownies with nuts. He taught me how to make eggplant parmigana, and now I make it better than he does. 16) He sleeps on the sofa almost every night, because he snores insanely and he knows it keeps me awake. 17) He could, and has, eaten an entire bag of Cheetos. And had the orange fingers to prove it the next day. Mackenzie once played a trick on him, and gave him the Shrek cheetos, the ones that turn your fingers and teeth green. 18) He grew up in a two family house, with 5 kids on the top floor and 9 on the bottom. In Queens. 19) He once let his brother take the blame for peeling the wallpaper off the wall, a fact that his brother still talks about to this day. 20) When he was a kid, he would flick his green vegetables behind the radiator. 21)I still can't get him to eat his vegetables. 22) He drinks a disgusting concoction every morning. Concord grape juice, canned unsalted peas, protein powder and a banana, all blended together. It looks like vomit, and smells worse. But, it's healthy! 23) He loves Carribbean, Hawaiian, and Mexican music. 24) Because his first wife was from the Dominican Republic, he speaks Spanish. And loves rice, with almost eveything. In fact, that is a standing joke here - "How did you like that meal?" "Well, it'd be better with rice." 25) He cried when each of our kids was born. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/05/2004 04:45:00 PM ----- BODY: An exercise in stupidity This weekend, my mother took two of my girls to the mountains. They brought back a bunch of fresh apples. I had been craving apple cake, and was emailed a recipe for apple struesel cake yesterday. I figured that this must be divine providence. After all, a new recipe, and a ton of fresh apples. I brought the recipe into the kitchen and got busy. I measured flour, creamed butter and sugar, added orange juice. I mixed the sugar and nuts and butter for the struesel. I greased the pan, layered the ingredients, and baked it for the required time. It smelled so good, and I was so glad that I had waited for the fresh apples. The timer binged, the cake came out. I mixed the glaze, and poured it oh so carefully over the warm cake. I cut a large wedge, anticipating the taste. I took a large bite of the apple struesel cake..... and realized that I had forgotten to add in the apples. Duh. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/02/2004 08:38:00 AM ----- BODY: Polar opposites Besides being separated by almost 6 years, Nikolas and Mackenzie could not be less similar. The cartoon below pretty much sums up Nikolas in the morning. (click on it to enlarge, if you can't read it)He gripes, he groans, he yells, he covers up and refuses to get out of bed. when finally he is vertical, he picks fights and is generally unpleasant to be around. It takes him about 30 minutes before he is human. Conversation with him sounds like conversation with a caveman - "Grr. Grumble. Ugh." Mackenzie, she's different. When you wake her, she grumbles for about 10 seconds. Then she pops out of bed, jumps into her clothes, and dashes downstairs. "Good morning, Mommy! I had the best dream - it had a pony, and a purple scarf, and cookies, and ......" About this point I tune out, since in reality I resemble Nikolas most in the morning. It's a struggle for me to be kind - gives me something to offer up every morning! The difference in these two extends throughout the day, and was never more clear than two separate conversations I had yesterday. Mackenzie and Nikolas went out to ride bikes. "Mommy, I can ride my two wheeler really well! I am a great bike rider! Guess what! My teacher says that I am a great reader! I know how to do everything! I am so happy! I'm good at everything! Traa-laa-laa!" (All is true, except the traa-laa-laa, but you can bet if she knew it, she'd be saying it.) Nikolas fell off his bike - well, he was riding Allegra's bike, which is too small, and he turned the wheel too sharp and fell. He had the walkie-talkies, and called for me. I went running, and helped him up. He was covered in blood - he had really banged up his knees and elbows. I helped him back to the house, during which we had this conversation: "I am so stupid, I am so dumb, I can't believe how stupid I am! No one falls off a bike except a baby. I do everything wrong." He feels this way, just about all the time, about everything. Two kids, same parents. I don't think I did anything different, but I certainly need to parent them differently. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/02/2004 08:37:00 AM ----- BODY:
funny cartoon, for the story above.....  -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/02/2004 07:40:00 AM ----- BODY: HEY! Yesterday was my blogiversary! (However you spell it, anyway!) I've been rambling for a whole year, and people still read! Woo-hoo! I'm registered at Amazon, should anyone desire to send gifts....... -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 10/01/2004 07:49:00 AM ----- BODY: Have to! I was watching the Steve Martin movie Parenthood this past weekend. I love that movie. Every time I watch it, I see snippets of my own life, and it is always a different part. This time, I was struck by the scene where Steve Martin's character says, "My entire life is HAVE TO!" The Hubster turned to me and said, "Is that how you feel?" As I looked around the house, at the laundry pile, the ironing pile, the dirty floors and the dishes, my jaw hit the floor - he finally got it! Then, he blew it, cuz he said,"That's how I feel, anyway." It's true, though. My daily life is have to - have to go pick up the kids, have to strip the beds, have to fold the laundry, have to cook another meal. BUT. If I only concentrate on those things, the mundane, the boring, I drag myself down. Instead, I want to focus on the good have to's. I have to bathe the babies, and as a result, I have to rub lotion on them. I have to hear Emma laugh hysterically when I rub her belly, and see her try to rub lotion on me. I have to snuggle with Emma and Riley, clean warm and sweet smelling from the bath. I have to help Emma balance blocks on her stacking moon, and see her excitement when it tumbles. I have to work with Gabriel on his letters, and see his excitement when he recognizes the letter "A" in another location. I have to pick him up from school, and hear how much fun he has. I have to take him to gymnastics, and see his unabashed delight in jumping and tumbling. I have to watch Mackenzie and Allegra play soccer, and kick the hell out of the ball. Both of them are *excellent* players - so say their coaches and the sideline parents, anyway! - and it's exciting to watch them really enjoy themselves. I have to take them both to audition for the Moscow Ballet production of the Nutcracker - Allegra's third year and Mackenzie's first. I have to take Nikolas to purchase new sheet music, and revel in the fact that my son rocks on the trumpet and baritone, and he could have a future in music. I have to recognize that my son is growing up, and soon will be driving and dating. Soon he will be an adult! I have to shop for Christmas presents, and imagine the delight when they open the gifts that I planned for months ago. I have to cook dinner, and make something that The Hubster loved, and hear him ask me to make it once a week. I have to wash sheets, and get to lay in fresh sweet smelling sheets. I have to wash diapers, and look at a big pile of clean diapers, and feel good every time I pin one on one of the babies. I have to pull out the winter clothes, and appreciate how much my children have grown. I have to see what we can pass down, and feel good that I took good care of their clothing. (well, most of it.) I have to go get a cup of coffee, and be glad that I am providing a job for the Starbucks crew! -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/30/2004 01:23:00 PM ----- BODY: Home Depot Having spent almost $2000 this week on four separate trips to Home Depot this week, I've had lots of time to people watch. Home Depot is very hope - inspiring. You go in, maybe just for lightbulbs, and before you know it, you are laying a new floor. You can practically see the hope on the faces of those in line. "Maybe this paint will do it - my house will be gorgeous then." "This new faucet - it will spruce up the bathroom like nothing else." I'm just as bad as everyone else, though - I spent over $100 on flower bulbs. In my defense, the pictures, they were so pretty! And, we did just win yard of the month, after all. Can't let our yard look ugly now! I wonder, if I could stand over the city and observe, exactly how many of those hopeful people spent the better part of the afternoon cursing and grumbling, when their projects didn't go quite as anticipated? We've got two rooms painted, with, oh, four more to go eventually. We are still speaking to each other, so I guess it went well! -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/26/2004 09:01:00 PM ----- BODY: The weekend from hell I love the Hubster, I swear I do. And you all love your significant others too, I know you do. Hey, you in the back, quit rolling your eyes! After this weekend, though, I'm not feeling the love quite so well....... It all started with Friday. As most weekends do, natch. For whatever reason, the kids had a half day, so they got off from school at 12, and Gabe got out at 12:30. AND, the Hubster had the weekend off - three full days of another adult here. I was so happy! Friday morning, we made our plans. I really wanted to get some painting done, and the Hubster wanted to build a brick patio outside for his new, Jenn-Air, stainless steel grill. If a man could orgasm for a grill, this would be the one. But, I'm off on a tangent again. I took the kids to school, and came back. The doorbell rang, and it was the builder that I had forgotten we had an appointment with. We are really interested in having another room built on, so we could have a playroom for the kids, and possibly making the addition two stories, in order to have another bedroom. It was a very enjoyable time, fantasizing about how great our addition could look. Whoops! It was time to get back to earth, and go get the kids. One other thing that we have in the market for is a Rainbow Play system - one of those huge wooden things. Before we commited to a purchase, the Hubster had a the great idea that we should check the Trading Post - a local item for sale paper. We live about 3/4 of a mile from a 7-11, so after lunch, I told the Hubster, "Instead of driving, I'll just walk up there. I could use the exercise, and the peace." Emma started to fuss, so I agreed that I'd take her - after all, one kid, in the stroller, that wouldn't be too bad. Somehow, it ended up that we'd all go - all 6 kids and the Hubster. He offered to carry the baby on his back, as well as push the stroller for Emma, so that was ok. The kids were thrilled - slurpees! Second Whoops! of the day - the girl who cuts his hair was on her way over - so he couldn't go. Somehow, I think that this was planned. I grumbled a bit, but decided to be mature (ooh, I hate that word) and get over it. So, the kids all got on their bikes, Emma jumped into the stroller, and I dumped the baby into the backpack. She's got the worst habit ever - she puts her feet on the cross bar, and jumps up and down, and tries to flip out. I discovered that I could pull her feet under my armpits and hold them, and then she couldn't move. Sounds uncomfortable, and it is for me, but at least she's not killing me. So, here's how the walk went: -Pull R's feet under my arms -Convince G that it's ok to ride the bike across the street -Yell for M to wait up! -Send N back home to get on his bike, as opposed to the small bike that was his younger sister's -Pull R's feet again -Look for G, and find him crouched on the ground, with his ears covered. (The Navy was doing an air show, and the planes were really loud. Explain to him that the noise was planes, not thunder. Help him back on his bike.) - Yell for M to wait up! -Try to get E to stop screaming, because she saw a cat - Listen to N talk about some difficulty he's having, while trying to remember how my parents handled this type of thing, and decide if I'm going to respond similarly -Tell G again, it's only planes -Yell for M to wait! -Cross the street, walking G's bike when he abandoned it in his rush to cross before the car that was 300 yards away -Pull R's feet again -Listen to her cough, and realize that she's pulled her hat off and it was still tied around her neck -Explain to E that the dog going beserk was behind a fence, and wouldn't get to her -Pull the overgrown bushes off the kids, and remind them to watch out for the dog poop -Arrive at the store, to find that some idiot driving a moving truck had blocked the sidewalk, and push the stroller uphill, in the thick grass, rather than on a nice level sidewalk. Finally, we arrived at 7-11. We perused the candy aisle, to find safe candy for G. We got slurpees, water, and yoo-hoo. We left, and I did an immediate u turn. I had forgotten the stupid trading post! We repeated the above scenario, in reverse, on the way home. Except for every cross street - G decided he should walk across each one, so we had to stop and wait for him. The really memorable part was when M fell off her bike, and she was crying a river. From behind, G said to her "You're not gonna die, so get on the bike already!" And the Hubster couldn't figure out why I was so fried when we got home. Hot, sweaty, hoarse from yelling, and completely irritable. And there were no play gyms in the dumb Trading Post. Then the Hubster told me he was not off on Sunday after all, and we spent all.day.Saturday. building the brick patio, and didn't get the painting done. I am really glad that it'll be Monday in 2 hours! -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/25/2004 07:19:00 AM ----- BODY: Pimping for Popcorn Nikolas is a Boy Scout. Just like the Girl Scouts sell cookies, the Boy Scouts sell popcorn. Over priced popcorn - ranging in size and price from a $12 box of 12 packages of microwave popcorn, up to a $50 tin of 5 different chocolate snacks - popcorn, pretzels, etc. Last year, he and the Hubster went around the entire neighborhood, with a wagonfull of this stuff, and sold tons. $1000 worth, to be exact. The great thing about this popcorn is that a percentage of what ever is sold is put into an account for him. He can use this money to pay for scout supplies, camping supplies, or his fees for camping. It really helps out. Last year, the Hubster also sold a bunch of it at work, in order to put him over the $1000 mark. With that level, you get a $40 certificate to Wal-Mart, or ToysRUs. As well as a certificate to the Scout store. So, we really wanted him to get to this level again. He just wasn't into selling this year. We signed out a bunch, and he walked around the neighborhood. He sold a bit under $200. The Hubster took the order forms into work, and was able to sell about $400 for him. The other day, I went with him to deliver it, and the two of us sold a bunch more. I felt like a pimp - "Want some popcorn? It's really good, and for a good cause......" All total, we had sold about $750. I'm sick of popcorn. And pretty pissed that The Hubster and I have done most of the selling. Yesterday, I asked N to call the popcorn chairwoman and ask for the three totals of the orders we signed out, so I could figure it up and get this stuff out of here. He didn't want to call her, and we had a big argument. I finally yelled at him, "It's not MY popcorn, it's YOURS and I've sold tons of it. YOU need to do something for this! Call already, and just ask for the three total amounts. It's not hard!" I left to get the girls from ballet - 5 minutes away - and came home to see him on the phone, reading out each.individual.order to her. What the hell? All I needed was the three total amounts, in order to figure up the checks, write one check for the cash, and return what was unsold. I got on the phone to speak to her. "How much have you sold?" Let me preface this by saying she is Chinese, and very hard to understand, and giggles constantly, about stuff that isn't even funny. She just giggles, and it drives me crazy. She's a nice person, and we get along - just not when I'm cranky. And, man, was I cranky. "We've got about $750 sold. I'll turn it in tomorrow." "Ohhhh. Can you sell more?" Now, I'm sick of this popcorn. Sick of it in the house, sick of taking it places, sick of reminding the boy that this is work he needs to do. No, I canNOT sell more popcorn, and I told her. Nicely. "But, hee-hee, if you sell more, you'll get the hockey stick! It goes with the basketball from last year, and the baseball bat from the year before! Plus, you'll get the gift card." Greeaat. Just what we need in our house, a hockey stick. Let me interject here that said popcorn chairwoman has ONE 12 year old child. And an extremely devoted hubby, who relieves her from a lot of duties. Her son sells almost $2000 a year. "Nope, I can't sell more." "But, he really should try to get to $1000, hee, hee! Surely, you can do that!" NO. NO more. "Look, if he wanted to sell $250, or $500, I have no doubt he could. But he doesn't want to, and I'm not going to do it anymore. I don't want to. I'm sick of popcorn." This blew her away. "Sick of popcorn? Hee, hee, hee, how can that be? Really, I think you could just sell a bit more." The scream that was inside my head would have deafened America. I hope she got the message. I'm sick of pimping for popcorn. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/25/2004 06:47:00 AM ----- BODY: I know the answer! Heh. I was sweating there for a while - I had no questions! Either I have no readers lately, or I'm so boring that no one wants to know anything about me. I'd rather not know the answer! Stephanie asked about my bedtime: Gooooood question. Bed goes something like this. G and M in bed at 7, A in bed at 8, N in bed at 8:30, or 9 if he has extra homework or is watching Star-gate. If E hasn't taken a nap, she goes to bed at 6:30 or 7. Then it's just me and the baby. Often I'll sit in the recliner to nurse her and fall asleep reading blogs. Then I move her up to the crib, and get ready myself. I shoot for 10 - sometimes the Hubster comes home right about then, and I feel like I should spend time with him, and I stay up. Next thing I know, it's 12:30 and I'm exhausted. 5:45 comes awfully early. Mary, shame on you. Skittles and Oreos? That's a good breakfast? I had really yummy chocolate cake and a white chocolate mocha! I think as long as it involves chocolate it can be classifed as a good breakfast. Healthy, now, that's a different question........ Jenny, you already know my greatest addiction. It's my computer! As for cartoon characters, well, I'd really like to be shaped like Olive Oyl. I don't wtch cartoons, so I don't really know what I'd pick. I'd like to be in Lazytown, just to watch Sportacus jump around. And, the white chocolate mocha (triple shot if it's a rough morning!) is one of my biggest addictions. I get one every day. I'm pretty predictable that way. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/21/2004 09:26:00 PM ----- BODY: Questions, questions, who's got the questions? I'm so tired. I am really exhausted. I'm going to try to go to bed early tonight, and hope that I sleep well. If you have a question for me, feel free to ask. Something you've always wanted to know - maybe you asked me a question and I didn't answer. If it's not X rated, I'll try my best to answer it. And now, off to slumber. Zzzzzzzzz..... -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/21/2004 09:47:00 AM ----- BODY: Gymnastics My son Gabriel has really gotten into Lazytown. Thanks sooo much, Jenny. Whenever he watches it, he mimics his hero, Sportacus. He tumbles, he runs, stands on his head on the sofa or recliner. Every day, it's the same thing. "Mom, am I just like Sportacus??" Oh yes. Exactly like him. The Hubster and I decided that some gymnastics classes might do the boy some good. Give him somewhere to burn off the energy, and teach him different skills. When we told Gabe, though, he had a really strong response. "NOOOOO! I'm not going! I don't want to go to gymnastics!!" Too bad, so sad. Remember this for your stint on Maury Povich, when you talk about how I ruined your life. I went on Saturday to get some information, and the child was true to form. He cried the whole time we were there, and had no interest in looking around the gym at all. Yesterday was the first class. It was at 1, right after his preschool got out. We went to the gym, and he went into the class. I was able to sit in the waiting area and watch through the glass door. There was only one other kid in his class. First was stretching, all well and good. Then they went to trampoline - FUN, FUN, FUN!! At the end of the hour, he came running out to me. "How was it? Did you like that class? Do you want to come again?" He said, "I didn't like that class." "No?" "No, I LOVED IT!" Success! Now he wants to go every day. I think I may have created a monster. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/18/2004 11:01:00 PM ----- BODY: Things I'll do for $20 There are lots of things that I won't do - drink pee, eat bugs, clean the bathroom, participate in anything involving my naked body and the public eye. But, I received an offer from the chi-chi grocery in this area, offering me a $20 gift card if I transferred a prescription. Since we pretty much single-family-dedly (get it? singlehandedly? I suck when I make up my own words, I know) support the pharmaceutical world, I was certain that I could take advantage of this offer. I don't shop in this store too often, maybe once every few months, although I really like it. They have a ton of foods that I really like, and an extensive selection of organics/health food stuff. I needed to get a few things that I wasn't able to get on my Wal-Mart trip, one of them being a jar of sundried tomatoes and another,a jar of artichokes. When I went to WM, I noticed that the section of tomaotes and mushrooms had been rearranged again. I couldn't find the sundried tomatoes, so I asked the incredibly unhelpful clerk restocking the shelves, at 10 on a Wednesday morning. That's just when I would recommned stocking the shelves, that's for sure. She had no idea what I was talking about, but if I could tell her the bar code, she'd be glad to look it up for me. Sorry to say, but my brain was simply unable to pull that certain set of numbers out of the recesses of my brain. I asked up at the customer non-service area, and they informed me that sundried tomaotes were now considered a seasonal item, and would no longer be carried in the store. And neither would artichokes. Or frozen squash - two other items that I couldn't find and requested. So, at the chi-chi store, I dropped off my prescription, and was told to be back in 20 minutes. I roamed the store, picking up the tomatoes, artichokes, lightbulbs, and a magazine. After 30 minutes, I returned to the pharmacy, to find that my medication hadn't even been started. Apparently, the man who dropped off a prescription before me, had no medical coverage, which was news to him. He argued, quite loudly, with the pharmacist for quite a while, forcing the clerk to ask me to please give him a few more minutes to finish with him and fill my prescription. I realized that I probably could use some shampoo, and some conditioner. I ended up with "Sexed up" shampoo, "Curly sexy hair" conditioner, and another bottle of shampoo, this one entitled "Big sexy hair". Well, at least my hair will have fun. They were the same brands that I usually buy at the salon, but, hey, I'm saving $20, so it's all good. What else did I need, while I'm busy saving money? Olay regenerist cream, guaranteed to make my skin look younger. Hmm, sounds good to me - better add the eye cream, the one that will lighten the dark circles. My little foray to the store, to save $20, ended up costing me $80. It could have cost $100, though, so I guess it's not all bad........ -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/18/2004 05:50:00 PM ----- BODY: A trip to the mall So, I went to the mall today. I think it would have been far more pleasurable to, say, open my head with a dull manual can opener and extract my brain with a grapefuit spoon, but maybe I'm just making the trip out to be worse than it actually was. You tell me. To begin our trip, it was pouring rain, thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Ivan. I found a parking spot, only about 1/2 mile from the entrance, got out of the car with 5 of the kids, a double stroller and umbrellas, and away we went. Nikolas wasn't with us, he went to a friend's house. We ran all the way up to the door, and ducked in, just in the nick of time, when the heavens opened. First stop, Lane Bryant for me. See, last night I attempted to go out and get a new outfit for myself. The Hubster and I are going to a company function outside tomorrow night, and I wanted something new to wear. It took me two hours to become so depressed that an entire bottle of Zoloft wouldn't have been enough. WHAT is it with clothing manufacturers? Why is every striped shirt made with horizontal stripes? And made from Lycra, thereby stretching said stripes in a weird pattern, if you are larger than a B cup? I looked all over last night, and finally gave up. I went to Lane Bryant today, figuring that they would be able to cover me. And cover me they did - I spent a ton of money. I had promised the kids that we could get some things for them - after all, these poor kids have no clothes to wear, and nothing to play with - I have no idea how they can tolerate living here in the squalor. So we went over to Limited Too, and just as quickly walked back out. I have no desire to dress my seven and nine year old girls like street walkers. We walked the mall, looking for Vans sneakers - what Allegra wanted to spend her money on. We dropped money in Children's Place and the Disney Store. Mackenzie was so thrilled to be at the mall that she ran all over, forcing other shoppers to dodge her, and causing me to plow the stroller into her several times. We never found the sneakers, and decided that Old Navy would have to be skipped, a fact which led to much pouting in the group. We finally decided that we had enough, and made our way to the exit. There were four sets of double doors, and we happened to go out the middle one. I had the baby in the sling, I was pushing the double stroller, Gabe was trying to figure out how to work his little umbrella, I was trying to get the big umbrella open, and the girls were arguing over who would hold the door for me. There were three young Navy guys leaving the mall right behind me, exiting the same door, despite the fact that the other three sets of doors were not in use. One said, "God, look, here we are in the middle of the three ring circus!" I turned around, looked at them, and said "I'm trying my best!" "Yeah, right. It's still a three ring circus lady." I was this close to punching the guy right in the eyeball, but said "There are other doors you can use." "I'm glad I'm not you!", he said, and walked off, laughing to his friends. You and me both, buddy. I was so steamed by this. My girls HELD the doors for this creep, who made fun of their mother and their family, and never thanked them. Some people are jerks. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/16/2004 11:45:00 AM ----- BODY: It's the bulk foods run!!!! This week, it was time for the dreaded BJ's run. We have a Costco here, anc a Sam's Club, but for whatever reason, we joined BJ's. Since Genuine did it on his blog, and it got lots of people talking about how much they spend, I thought I'd post my bulk foods shopping receipt. So here's what I bought, in no particular order: 2 10 pound bags frozen chicken breasts - the staple of our diet - $21.49 each 2 pkgs boys undershirts, size 16 - $5.99 each Osh kosh fleece pj pants - size 5 - $7.99 Dove ice cream bars - chocolate with dark chocolate dip - a treat for the Hubster - $8.99 32 ounces heavy cream - $3.59 shredded cheddar cheese- $5.49 shredded mozzarella cheese - $5.99 2 rib eyes - just for the parents, we love us some steak here - $11.81 2 pkgs, 4 pounds each, butter - we use a ton of this stuff - $7.83 chocolate coconut macaroons - NOT for Gabe, but the other kids - $4.99 2 1/2 dozen eggs - last us about 2 weeks - $1.65 5 pounds ground beef - $12.23 french bread, 2 loaves -$ 3.99 decaf ice teabags - why I even bother with decaf ice tea when I drink so much other caffeinated stuff is beyond me - $6.39 48 Nutrigrain bars - $9.49 67 ounces Nesquik powder - little kids live for chocolate milk here - $5.99 2 gallons milk - the best price I've seen in a long time - $2.28 each - the usual price is closer to $4 5 pound peanut butter - $5.59 108 slices american cheese - $6.99 Mini ravioli - the default dinner here - $4.99 OJ - 2 pack- $4.99 new book for Nikolas - $12.99 (If I have the extra dough, I try to get a new book for each of the kids, or a movie) new book for Allegra - $7.99 5 pounds apples - $6.99 40 rolls breath mints - we have stinky breath around here - $8.69 20 mini croissants- $4.29 super jumbo pack of goldfish - $6.29 gallon apple cider - $2.99 jumbo box graham crackers - for snacks and smores - $5.39 4 qts breyer's vanilla ice cream - $5.79 5 2 pks Welch's grape juice - the ONLY drink that the Hubster enjoys - $4.89 each 4 pack brownie mix - gotta have some chocolate - $3.99, with a $1 coupon on the box, WOO-HOO! 2 pounds pecans - for the brownies, and for the Hubster, not for Gabe at all - $8.79 4 pounds brown sugar - $2.09 10 pounds white sugar - we eat too many sweets - $3.99 16 bars of soap - we use three different types of soap here, and I rotate which one I buy - this time it was Lever - $6.99 pinenuts, for Minime's yummy yummy pasta dish for my own lunches - $7.79 4 things I have no idea what they are - $15.99, $6.79, $13.49 and $14.49 each 10 pounds flour - $3.69 12 pack C batteries - for the radio in the shower - $9.89 24 pk AAA batteries - for the remotes and such - $9.99 28 pack AA batteries - for the leappads, the remotes, and the gameboy - $10.39 a 32 ounce drink for me, since I was beyond thirsty at this point - $. 74 elmo dvd - for Emma, who loves Elmo and despises Mr. Noodle - $11.99 2 pack Acne wash - for the oldest two who are starting to get acne (gasp!!) - $9.39 3 pack tylenol chewables - store brand - $4.99 3 pack infant tylenol - store brand - $6.49 6 pounds spaghetti - about 2 weeks worth - told you we eat a lot of pasta here - $5.99 16 ounces Neutrogena sesame body oil - for sensuous skin - very important when you have 6 kids - $8.59 1 poiund parmesean cheese - $4.49 2 pack Scope - $8.99 jumob pack Easy Mac - my kids eat a ton of this stuff - $5.89 diced fruit bowls, for lunches - $5.99 case of green beans - $5.49 case of sweet peas - $3.99 24 pack charmin - yeah, we use a lot of this too - $11.99 capri suns - $6.29 applesauce cups - $6.69 jumbo pack goodnites, for the one kid who still wets the bed - $19.89 So, that's how I spent $539.21 in one evening. I'd be interested in seeing what all you guys buy, when you go bulk shopping. -------- AUTHOR: Carmen TITLE: DATE: 9/14/2004 01:14:00 PM ----- BODY: The one, lonely box in the back of the pantry Yesterday, being the 13th of the month, it was time to clean out the pantry. (whew. I mis-typed panty, and couldn't imagine doing a monthly cleanout of the panty!) I do a monthly clean out, right before payday, so I have room to put the new goods. I pulled out the half empty boxes of ice cream cones, the boxes of crackers that held only a few stale crumbs, the cereal that no one ate, the two, no three, no FIVE boxes of shake and bake. I put everything on the counter, so I could see what I had, to make dinner for the night. Whatever I created could have any of the following: sundried tomatoes in oil 1 packet of buzz lightyear fruit snacks garbanzo beans creamed corn a 5 lb. can of beef stew - given to us by my father in law for our end times pantry beer bread mix lemonade mix artichokes 2 juice boxes with no straws boiled canned onions - when and why did I buy those? No pasta to be found. Otherwise, I'd make sundried tomatoes and artichoke pasta. We could have pancakes - nope, no butter and no syrup. Cereal? None left. Scrambled eggs? None of those left either. I began to feel like the worst housekeeper and mother ever. Who runs out of pasta, or eggs, or butter? Only the very bad kind of mommy, for certain. Then, deep in the back, hiding behind the three pounds of powdered sugar, I spied it. The light brown box. It was roasted garlic couscous. Success! With this, I could make sundried tomato and artichoke couscous, and serve it with toast points and baby carrots and cucumbers. The poor, lonely box of couscous had sat on the shelf patiently, watching the more exciting boxes and cans fly out of the pantry. The cookies, gone. The pasta - among the first deserters. We can put away some pasta here. The canned vegetables had even been escorted out. But now, it was time for the couscous to save the day! It was good, too. Yippee for payday, though, since I can only work under such pressure once in a great while! --------