My 2 year old’s horoscope yesterday:
You’re in the middle of a busy phase. Take new responsibilities. Put more energy into your projects.
My horoscope on the same day.
Surround yourself by the creative spirit of the youngest generation. You can’t bottle youth, but it’s communicable.
Take a look at our house.
I’m choosing to embrace this as the creative spirit of the youngest generation.
Dear Young Female Driver,
I would like to express my sincerest appreciation to you for teaching my children about white trash behavior today. It is with the utmost most respect that I retell this story so that others will bask in your glory.
I was leisurely driving my kids to piano lessons when I noticed the navy Honda Accord I was following gradually slow to a virtual stop in the middle lane. I slowed and waited until the Honda started moving again. I remember thinking at the time how odd it was to stop in the middle of the road. But silly me, you were just preparing for your lesson.
About one minute later, the slowing down occurred again. I was confused since there was not a light in sight. I see now that this was just your introduction.
I honked my horn to make you aware that you were holding up traffic and I was concerned about this potentially dangerous situation. You though were concerned with the lesson. Immediately after I honked, you gave me the finger. A beautiful up sweep of your left arm shooting upwards while pointing your middle finger to the sky. My nine year old was certainly paying attention now.
I took this as a teaching moment when all I really wanted to do was show you how graceful my arm movements can be.
“You see, Alex, this is what we call white trash behavior.”
In his entire nine years I had never broached the subject with him before but I see that you were right and I needed to widen his horizons.
After your initial teaching you swerved into the right lane. I stayed back a bit but notice the light ahead had turned red. I pulled up beside you.
It is here where my six year old is also included in this life lesson since his view of you was now not obstructed.
You turn, just as I do, and scream “F**k you bitch.”
Such precious words for my children.
Normally I would have told my children you screamed, “Firetruck in the ditch!.” But you made sure there was no mistaking your sentiments with your rolled down window.
I could have continued on with your insightful teachings but I decided that our cup overfloweth with white trash knowledge for now. Best to leave some things for another day.
I took an unnecessary turn and left you to spread your wisdom to others.
What a wonderful teaching moment for my family.
In between being kind to others and telling the truth, I had neglected to share in the teachings of the middle finger and foul language.
Well done, young one.
And they say the youth of America doesn’t appreciate education…from where I’m sitting I’d have to disagree.
I just dropped my daughter off at preschool for her first day of school this year.
Excitedly I jumped into the car, turned off Mary Poppins, and switched the radio on.
I started dancing in my car immediately when this song came on.
While I may not have a girl friend who recently cheated on me and I don’t have a Zach Galifianakis tattoo, I think you can still understand that I was excited. And so were a lot of other mommies based on their smiles and the extra skip in their step.
Five whole hours to myself today. That hasn’t happened since mid May.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love my kids but the freedom is fabulous. Just imagine taking a shower without someone talking to you constantly, going to the bathroom without an audience, or running an errand without having to stop at the toy section.
Of the 168 hours in a week, I’m with my daughter for 158. So I was ready for a little break.
I danced all the way to the library return box, the post office, and then home.
Don’t tell me I don’t know how to party. NO LATE FEES BRO! That is awesome.
How will I spend my five hours?
Maybe a little Bravo TV, read another chapter in my book, cruise the internet…whatever it is I will be singing this song.
Update: Fifteen minutes after I got home the pest control guy called and said he was coming in two hours. So what did I do? I cleaned for two hours. But I made sure to clean with a little skip in my step too.
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A few days ago we took my two youngest to the children’s hospital in our city. We were there to find out more information about their recently discovered blood disorder and how it will impact their lives. In the days leading up to the appointment I was having a bit of a pity party for myself, silently saying “Why us again?”
When I was in my twenties I had a warped sense of protection. I felt that if I knew someone who went through something my family would not go through it. I know someone who lost a child therefore we will not. I know someone who got a divorce therefore we will not. I know someone who lost their home therefore we won’t.
Now that I am in my thirties, I realize life doesn’t work that way.
I knew someone who had heart surgery. Well my husband needed it too.
I know someone who had a miscarriage. Well I had one too.
I knew someone who had a stroke. Well my husband had one too.
Our children’s appointment was on a Wednesday at noon. After parking our car, we found our way to the patient waiting room.
We found ourselves sitting in the Blood Disorders and Cancer waiting room.
It was there where I decided to stop sulking and just be thankful.
I saw kids of all ages and races who were ill. Some were wearing masks, some were in the isolation room, some were crying, and some were listless while being craddled by their parents.
These parents had surely asked “Why us? Why my child?”
As I watched my two smiling kids play in the room I felt incredibly blessed and ridiculously lucky.
We will be back to see more doctors and we will continue to worry for a long time.
But for now, my kids are happy, healthy, and home with me.
And that’s all that matters.
Eight years ago I convinced my sister to train for and compete in a triathlon.The race consisted of a half mile swim, a 25 mile bike ride, and a 6 mile run.
On race day we were excited yet nervous.
Due to my age group beginning before hers, I finished the race ahead of Kelly. I walked into the crowd and found an opening roughly 50 feet from the finish.
When I saw my sister I began cheering for her, “Go Kelly! You Got it. You’re Almost There!”
As Kelly ran passed me she looked straight at me and gave me the finger.
Yes, she did.
Sisterly love lets you get away with a lot.
Every year or so my sisters and I try and have a Sisters Weekend. We meet up in a city, go the spa, and enjoy shopping and eating out.
Last week I spoke to Kelly on the phone and she mentioned scheduling a sisters weekend.
Awesome. I’m getting a facial, a pedicure, and a massage.
She also mentioned she wanted to get in shape and she needed a goal in order to do this. Kelly decided that training for a half marathon would be her focus.
Yes, great idea. It will definitely get you in shape.
“And I want you and Amanda to run it with me for our sisters weekend.”
Huh. That’s not such a great idea now.
Replace the facial with sunburn, replace the pedicure with blisters, replace the massage with leg cramps.
Awesome.
Reluctantly I agreed.
Our half marathon is in 14 weeks.
Monday I went for my first run. Now normally I don’t run. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’d stick around to fight in a dark alley rather than try and run. Running is painful and I am bad at it. But I’m in this to finish it and to support Kelly.
So the kids got on their bikes, Derek pushed Caroline in the jogging stroller, and I shuffled along running and walking.
Well, Kelly, after completing those first two miles of training, I have a message for you:
Right back atya little sis!
On a whim, I threw My Life as a Furry Red Monster: What Being Elmo Has Taught Me About Life, Love and Laughing Out Loud by Kevin Clash into my library bag at the same time as I picked up these wonderful books.
While this book may not be in the same literary category as the others, it was a worthwhile read. It was quite inspiring to read how Kevin Clash’s parents nurtured his creativity and encouraged his passion. Very easily they could have chosen a different route when their son expressed the desire to become a professional puppeteer.
The quote below was a good reminder for me to get off the computer and create something with my kids.
“There’s a certain sweet magic you feel when you sit down and create something with a child, whether it’s a masterpiece in watercolors or pasta shapes glued to a paper plate. And remember, it doesn’t matter if you haven’t held a crayon in decades or if you don’t remember how to fold a paper airplane or if you can’t draw hands or horses or rocket ships. In the eyes of a child, your artistic talents are supreme. It’s not what you create – it is simply the fact that you are helping that child celebrate the joy of creativity.”
Inspired by this quote, the four of us sat down and made paper bag puppets.
Though a simple craft, it was a tremendous amount of fun.
We spent an hour laughing, sharing stories, and enjoying one another. The boys eagerly filled me in on all the intricacies of the Batman series while making their superhero puppets.
Here are the final products.
Alex created Robin and Two Face while Caroline enjoyed using tons of glue.
When Andrew announced he was going to make a half Batman and half Joker puppet my 37 year old brain automatically thought he would draw each half of the characters vertically. I was fascinated to watch him create his half and half character horizontally.
Supermom was my creation and I’d have to say I’m quite proud of her. I wouldn’t be surprised if Angelina Jolie’s people wrote to my people thanking me for the likeness.
My boys were less than impressed with Supermoms’ weapon which indicates they must not be familiar with the powers of my purse. McGuyver and I could go head to head in any episode requiring us to keep a two year old entertained during a license renewal at the DMV.
What’s the last creative thing you did with your kids?
Last week I joined a gym by our house. The flyer in our mailbox stated, “$12 monthly, no initiation fee!”
I mean twelve bucks. It’s practically free. I’ve got to join.
Well, $124 dollars later I was a member.
The twelve dollar membership had time restrictions which didn’t work for me so I settled on the $19 plan. Add on the $38 initiation fee, childcare fees for three children, first and last month payments, and I was set to go.
Today I decided to try a class.
Let’s just say I should have thrown the flyer away.
5:30 – 6:30 AM Boot Camp
I arrived in the classroom to find a young woman already stretching on a mat. Half jokingly I said, “Is this the back of the class? I need to be able to hide.”
She smiled back and replied, “There’s no back. We move all over the room.”
We continued to talk for two minutes, bonding over being former teachers, until the instructor walked in.
No sooner had our instructor walked in when this woman said, “She wanted to know where the back of the class in because she’s going to need to hide.”
??????????????????
Lady, I’m going to meet you in the parking lot and stab you with a real knife.
5:31 – Class starts with six of us – I realize I am in deep trouble when class begins by warming up with squatsAnd I will be back.
The instructor’s expecting me not to.
Plus, I have to meet someone in the parking lot.
In one of the most ironic occurrences of my life…I won a make up party.
What? Jennifer won a make up party? The girl who never wears make up?
Me. Shorts loving, pony tail wearing, wash n’go me won a make up party.
It’s as if Mother Teresa won a sex toys party….uh, bad image and not quite right in the analogy department…..
It’s as if Lady Gaga won a white polo shirt….Getting there…..
It’s as if I won a make up party…Yep that’s it.
A few weeks ago I used my Mother’s Day gift card and flippantly put my name in the fishbowl on the salon counter.
Well, I won. They pulled my slip of paper and called to arrange a make up party. During the call I was told by the Eastern European make up artist that we would be treated to 1) having our make up done, 2) drinking wine, and 3) possibly mini massages. At least that’s what I think she said. I was a little unclear due to her strong accent. For all I know I could have just agreed for my friends and I to become the oldest mail order brides ever.
I invited 5 brave friends who graciously showed up. I’m pretty sure the part in the email where I highlighted “free wine” was the catalyst for the five yeses.
Everyone gathered excitedly in the salon foyer waiting to be glamed up. We must have looked like a rough and haggard group because they brought us to wait in the employee break room which had the lighting of a romantic Italian restaurant.
Glasses of red wine were waiting for us as well as our ever so flattering brown robes. We could have been back up singers for Friar Tuck. Maybe we should start an all girls religious rock group – The Monastery Mommas.
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So there we were. Drinking wine, eating the cupcakes I had brought, and having hand massages. In groups of two our make up was done by our very enthusiastic make up artists.
Here’s my before shot… 
Roughly 14 layers later I was done.
Large amounts of concealer, foundation, eye shadow, eye liner, and lipstick were involved in my transformation.
Would you like to see the end product?
I will say I was most impressed by their work
Just take a look.
Apparently, it’s all about the lighting and I’d have to agree.
I must remember to rid my home of those eco friendly light bulbs we’re using.
A good time was had by all at the party and I walked away with a little more make up knowledge.
In fact, I’m thinking of spiffing things up today and adding some chapstick to the mix.
In fact, it’s strawberry chapstick.
A little color on the lips always brightens ones face.
See, I did learn a few things at the party.
Shopping with my children is going to cost me big.
In fact, it’s starting to add up right now.
Just this morning we were in our neighborhood grocery store picking up a few items when it happened.
Again.
While holding my two year old, I began placing apples in a bag quickly. I was focused on buying the few items we needed and getting out of the store as fast as possible.
The boys, who had been following behind me, were now picking up fruit and weighing it on the scales. First an apple, then a cucumber, but then they decided they needed to go bigger, finally settling on an enormous Christmas melon.
Just as I turned around from the apples, I saw the melon fly from Alex’s hands and land on the ground. With a thud and a splat the melon split open.
Alex looked up at me with big eyes and said, “Oops.”
It was here where my moral drawbridge came crashing down. Without children I would have picked up the fruit, placed it gently back on its former resting space and walked away nonchalantly. My eyes would have remained focused on the fruit in an attempt to avoid all eye contact with other customers or grocery store employees.
With kids though it’s another story.
If I walk away from the fruit while I’m with them, I’m convinced I’m leading them into a life of crime. When they are standing before Jugde Wapner and being sentenced the only statement they will give is, “Well sir (in my mind they may lead a life of crime but they will still be polite) I was just doing what my mother does. My mother once ripped a shirt trying it on and she just left it in the changing room.”
I let out a sigh and had Alex place the melon into our cart. I explained that if you damage something in a store you are still expected to pay for it. At least when you are with me.
So with my $3.79 melon combined with the $5.95 doll I had to buy earlier in the week due to my daughter ripping open the box, I am out $9.74.
So as you can see my children are costing me a fortune. I’m thinking of starting a tab for each one of my children. Each time they damage something in a store I’m taking it out of their first paycheck.
And I will be charging them interest.
