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Bittersweet

Today was my last Death by Cardio class. It seems like just yesterday I was passing out in front of the 7:00 class, where has the time gone? I'm not sure how I feel about it ending. Part of me is glad to have my Tuesday and Thursday nights back, not that the hour was my entire night, but now there's no more rushing home to watch reality TV while my family begs me to shower :)

But part of me will miss it. I mean, seriously, now what excuse will I use to justify my bad eating habits?

Tidbits

Here are just a few tidbits of things that made me laugh this week.

1. I yelled at my husband. This in and of itself is not all that funny, until you hear the context in which I lashed out at him. He had been traveling all week spending just two evenings at home. I'd been running after the kids all week and he decided to pick this particular week to judge what I feed the offspring for dinner. I decided it wasn't worth the fight and rolled over to go to sleep (it was about 11:30 and he's just arrived home for a one night stay). He then proceeded to stand next to the bed (on his side) and commence eating pistacios. First he bumped the bed as he leaned over to get a nut out of his baggie. Then he cracked the shell open with his teeth as he leaned back on his heels. Finally he plunked the shell into a metal pan typically used for popcorn. bump, crack, plunk, bump, crack, plunk... And so the cycle continued for what seemed to be about 30 nuts. Keep in mind I'm already irritated. I rolled over and hollered, "Seriously?! If you're gonna continue to stand there and partake in that nut buffet, then I'm sleeping on the couch!" It wasn't until I repeated that story to some co-workers (so they could feel the pain of what I put up with) when I realized how ridiculous the nut buffet comment was. HAH!

2. #2 is patiently waiting for her birthday to arrive so that she can have her new bike. She has exactly 8 more days. Her old bike was stolen (again) last fall and we decided not to go down to the police station to reclaim it. It was on it's way out and she needed a new one. A few days ago she volunteered to accompany #1 and #1's friend to the grocery store. It was dark and cold and the two of them were too chicken to go alone. They decided to ride bikes. Herein lies the dilemma. It's dark, they can't get to the back of the storage garage to get my bike, so #2 decides she can just ride #3's bike. Keep in mind that #2 is two years older than #3 and #3 has nearly outgrown her own bike. Laughing and giggling (as girls do) upon their return #2 bursts into my room to relive her adventure on the "clowncycle" (her words, not mine). Watching her reenact this and the word clowncycle (which she pronounces more like clown-cicle) just made me laugh.

3. My mother is in a state of depression. This is not funny. However, some of the things she says/does while in this lost state strike me as comical. We sent her on an 8 hour road trip to meet her siblings to go through some of their mother's things (she passed away last November). It has become evident that sending my 61 year-old mother out into the world alone is not a smart move. At one point on her trip she called my younger sister and here's their conversation - it made me laugh.

Keep in mind they are not even in the same state!

Sister - "Hello."
Mother - "How much longer until I hit I-70?"
Sister - "Um, I don't know, where are you?"
Mother (exasperated) - "(sigh) Oh, I don't know."

How do you answer something like that? I'm thinking of calling my sister on a daily basis to ask her if she likes my hair like this or if what I'm wearing matches and other crazy questions. Should we take bets on how long it takes her to change her number?

Happy Birthday Eve!

Today is my birthday eve. This is the day that was formerly known as the hubby's birthday, but I've decided to claim it as my own - I deserve it!

Today (on my birthday eve) my husband began his week of traveling. He left the house talking on his cell phone without my good-bye kiss. I literally had to chase him down with my car to get it before he disappeared. This is why he lost his birthday rights this year.



Then he leaves me with a full schedule of activities. I just came to the realization that I'll have to miss Death by Cardio tomorrow night as #1's activities won't even allow me to be in the same town during either of the class times. Now I'll never know if the trainer actually broke down and brought me Ho-Ho's - it's my BIRTHDAY after all.

Then, the icing on the cake (my figurative birthday cake) was when #2 emerged from the shower with this new endearing song...

"Happy Birthday to you.
You live in a shoe.
You smell like a granny.
And you look like one too."



Isn't that sweet?! She's a clever one, that #2. Remember just a few days ago when she was my favorite? Oh, how fast they turn on you.

It may be my birthday indefinitely which assures me the right to do whatever I want when ever I want because it's MY BIRTHDAY! That's the birthday rule in our house.

The V-Day Box Fiasco

Out of desperation I yoked my husband with the task of helping #3 with her Valentine's Day box for school. I was battling an already busy week and #2 & #3 had been relentless in their quest to get their V-Day boxes done as soon as possible. I even offerred up the services of #1 to help him in this endeavor. The box design had already been established. It was to be a dog. Really, how hard can it be to make a dog out of a shoebox? I helped her gather the supplies and sent her to see her father. Then I settled in to help #2 with her much tougher desire to make a purse.

I should have taken the "Okay, but if it looks like a big brown turd, it's your fault!" much more seriously than I did.

I heard some scuttling coming from the kitchen, "No, we're not putting pom-pom's on your box." "Find me a picture of a dog on the internet." "How come you're not helping." "That is NOT helping." "There!" It had been half an hour (barely enough time for #2 and I to cut out the pattern for our V-Day box/purse) and he was finished. Satisfied with his work, he retired back to the comfort of his bedroom and remote control.

I worked diligently with #2 for another hour and then we decided to leave it for the night and work on it again tomorrow. I went to bed that night satisfied that I had finally been able to delegate some of my workload to my better half and it worked - I now only had to deal with one craft project. Wa-hoo!

The next morning I saw it! I wandered into the kitchen to get a bagel and I caught it out of the corner of my eye. Was that scotch tape I saw holding it together? Why is the head square? Was the tape not holding so you decided to staple the tail on? Seriously!?

Oh my goodness! What had I done? I had left the social well-being of #3 in the hands of someone who did not take crafting quite as seriously as I did. That was not what I had in mind when I delegated him this task. Now what was I going to do?

The consensus of those I discussed it with (and I discussed it with a LOT of people) was to see how #3 felt about the box. If she loved it, then I was going to have to live with it (I've gotten good at supressing things, but this may be asking too much). Of course, it would go to school bearing a "Made with love by Daddy" sticker on it. If she didn't love it so much, then I was going to have to carve out some time to help her "fix" it.

The next time I saw her she was toting it around asking me to help her glue the foam on her box as the tape Daddy put on wasn't sticking (really?). I was happy to oblige. I started asking her questions about other things she may want changed about her dog and the flood gates opened - Hallelujah! Without worrying about how I was going to break it to my husband (full well knowing I could NEVER ask him to do anything like this again), I stripped that poor dog back down to the box. I put the "skin" back on inside out and was getting ready to do the same to the face when I got caught.

#3 - "Mommy, you're putting the face on backwards! No one's going to be able to see the face that Daddy drew." (So close!).

Mommy - "Oh, you wanted to save that face?" was my only reply. "I was thinking we could do something a little different."

#3 - "But that's the face that Daddy drew."

Mommy - "Well, if you really want to keep the face that Daddy drew, we can keep it."

#2 - "That face looks like an old Chinese guy! You should let Mommy make it better." (Tonight, she was my favorite.)

#3 - "Okay, you can make it better." (Phew, that was close. I didn't know how I was going to make that pathetic dog face look any better on her new/improved box.)

After about an hour of foam cutting and design planning we were finished.

She seemed happy with the result.

And quite honestly, so was I. I'm not sure why I under estimate my ability to get it all done! So I have glue gun burns and blisters on two of my fingertips. In the end, it's the price I'm willing to pay for a presentable V-Day box!

After all was said and done, Dad was thankful that I fixed the dog. He confessed that he felt bad about the product #3 was going to take to school. He loved the new dog too (even if he doesn't love the real dog!).

P.S. #2's box did not suffer from the extra time it took me to do #3's box. So, I missed the Bachelor hometown dates - that's why God invented internet TV!

Doesn't that bother you?

I have a sick desire to do taxes. While other people cringe at the very idea of having to do their taxes, I secretly get excited. So when family and friends ask me to help them file their taxes I am more than eager to be of assistance.

A few days ago, I was helping a friend of my sister review her taxes. She came over to the house and sat amongst the chaos. Just a few feet away my husband was watching a Disney princess movie with #3. Bopping around the kitchen where we were sitting was #2 trying very hard not to be obvious in her need to be the center of attention.

Out of the blue the friend asked, "Doesn't that bother you?"

I had to pull myself back from the fantasy tax land I had momentarily escaped to. "What?" I truly thought she was eluding to the obnoxious singing coming from the TV.

"Your dog is snoring. Doesn't that bother you?"

Sure enough, Lucy was laying at my feet sound asleep.

"To tell you the truth, I don't even hear it any more."

And that was the truth, or atleast it had been the truth until now!

Since then I can hear little else than the chainsaw snoring that emits from our family pet when she sleeps. She's a typical lazy bulldog and sleeps a LOT.

I used to find it kind of cute at night as I lay in my bed and surf blogs that Lucy lays on one side of me (on the floor, of course) and my husband lays on the other side and the two of them carry on a duet of slumber.

Now I have a strong desire to invest in earplugs.

"Mom, I don't feel so good."

These are not words anyone wants to hear from a child leaning over their bed at 3:00 am. All I could think when #1 came into my room and announced she felt like she was going to throw up was, "Please take about 3 steps back so you don't ralph on my head!" I know, compassionate, right? Truth be told I like my sleep. I am the least compassionate person at 3:00 am and it doesn't get any better before 10:00 am. This is probably the reason #3 treks all the way around to daddy's side of the bed when she wants to join us after a bad dream.

Any who, about two hours later I was awaken by the sound of #1 coming down with the stomach flu. All I could think was, "am I going to get sick? does my stomach hurt? did i kiss her goodnight last night? why does my tummy feel like that? UGH, i hate being sick!" - I know, more compassion, right. I'm telling you NOT BEFORE 10:00 am!!

Later that day #1 was joined by #2 and myself. These are the days I wish we had more than one bathroom. Today we stayed home together (and boy, were we a pretty group), hung out in our jammies, and laid around in my bed. I'll be the first to admit I'm not getting any younger, but it really is unfair how fast the germy little monsters feel better while I'm still feeling like death. Hey, kids, THANKS FOR SHARING!!