Harden my heart

It's garage sale weekend.

The time of year when garbage bags and tears are flying.

Mine are from joy.

Theirs?

Not as much.

Although I turned Alison around. She was so mad at me for throwing away a couple pictures she'd drawn - only to leave lying them around her bedroom floor. I explained that we "only want to keep the best of the best toys" and when their room is a mess, they can't even play with their favorite toys.

She nodded and said it was a good idea.

Me = Master Manipulator.

With every toy that goes in the give-away bucket or trash, I mutter to myself a maniacal, sadistic...

I win.

Gettin' scrumped

Going to the girls' school is like entering a portal to another dimension that consists almost entirely of snot and hugs, and projects that make me wonder aloud: How EXACTLY is this yarn weaving thing about "science"?

It's a place where kids fight to be in your group but then listen to absolutely nothing that you ask them to do.

And being my anal retentive self, it's hard for me to not care if the kids do a shitty job on their work. (If your kid's weaving project looks terrible, my apologies. But as with any other art "science" projects that come your way, I'm requiring you to keep them and cherish them FOREVER.)

Mike would tease me that - standing there in my sweatshirt and ponytail - I was living out my Liz Lemon life.

He's convinced that 30Rock - our favorite show - was written about my life somehow, since I'm the type of person whose high fives are left hanging and I don't care because my self esteem is higher than warranted, and I live in sweats and sarcasm. I also pretend to like parties but all I want to do is go home and eat on the couch. I say "normalsauce" and "scrumped" (aka scammed; see the Letters to Santa episode...). I also have a secret crush on Alec Baldwin.

So as I was leaving the classroom, Kristin's teacher handed me a package. It was Kristin's Spring Photos. (Picture of a picture... can't get it to look like the real photo):

Remember when I said I didn't even remember it was picture day and didn't really care? And what is with the water buffalo bangs, Hair Brusher Photo Person?

I asked why I got the package since I hadn't ordered anything, and the substitute teacher chuckled and informed me that they automatically send them... you have to send them back if you don't want them.

BULL. CRAP.

Isn't there some rule that if you don't order something, they can't force you to pay for it just because they delivered it??? I think I remember that from the BMG days of 1995.

Even with the goofy bangs, Kristin is such a cute little monkey. And I need pictures - ironically enough - for Mike's dad who hasn't gotten an updated wallet since 2008.

I figured I'd wait to see how the other girls' pictures turned out. I can't even remember what they were wearing.

So I look at the price...

and holy shit.

$123 if I kept all the girls' pictures.

I think I just got scrumped.

Titillating Tuesday: Happy hunting

Mike had kitty duty at his dad's house this weekend, so I had him drop by Target - aka The Money Pit - for lettuce and a few miscellaneous things, adding If you see any interesting movies, feel free to pick one up.

He found the newest Harry Potter movie (don't judge). Oh AND because he couldn't leave his twin behind... he brought home Due Date with Zach Galifianakis.

Note to self: Zoom in. Don't stand 8 inches from Mike's face with the flash on unless you want people to think he's a crackhead.

Seriously, though. Mike is turning out to be one hairy mutha. He's growing it out until the end of July for RAGBRAI.

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Even on the yuckiest, stormiest, sickest, most scary nights...

the girls prefer to sleep in their bed over ours.

Can you blame them? When you need someone to snuggle with, you have two people to choose from.

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I wish the rain would stop already.

It takes the girls half an hour to get to the truck in the mornings because they must find the least-wormy route.

And T-ball practice was cancelled yesterday due to sprinkles. (I realize they're only six, but it makes me laugh that we used to play softball in the snow. Uphill both ways to home plate.) Our girls need all the practice they can get.

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My girls have now lost a combined 3 teeth between Emma and Alison (Kristin claims that she's not going to lose any because she's growing vampire teeth, and I believe her).

Guess how many times the tooth fairy has come.

ZERO.

I told them the tooth fairy doesn't like having to climb over toys to find their teeth, and if she gets mad at them for a dirty room, she'll bite their ankles.

Needless to say, the girls aren't big on little winged people biting their legs, so they keep telling me how they're going to clean their room so the tooth fairy can bring them their prize. A dollar coin, for the record. None of this $20 a tooth bullshit.

Except the kids NEVER CLEAN THEIR ROOM.

I'm going to tell them if they don't clean up soon, I'm putting the pillow under MY head at night and keeping the prize money for myself.

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I've got some more jewelry up on Autumn Vine and my 3-strand pearl necklace Clouds (picture below) is still up for auction at Team Linus. So far it's up to $35, but it's valued at $62! Get over there and help out a good cause for a tiny triplet baby and his family.

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I hope everyone had a great Easter weekend!

The Easter Bunny came to our house around 4:30 in the morning. Kristin woke up at 5 and I told her I was going to lose my mind if she didn't go back to bed immediately. I forced her to sleep next to me just to be sure.

It lasted a whole hour.

Is it any shock I fell asleep at my parents' house that evening?

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The cat loves Easter eggs. She carries the colorful plastic halves in her mouth as she trots proudly through the house. Then she drops them on the floor, pretends to ignore them, and finally pounces.

Which is really cute.

Until you're trying to sleep.

Imagine how much fun we had when the cat discovered the jelly bean-filled eggs make even MORE noise.

I'd completely forgotten about the cat until Mike - watching me hide eggs from the couch - said, You know... the cat's gonna have a conniption fit when she sees all these eggs.

Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Exactly.

We found all but one egg, and the cat was running into the basement with egg halves as the kids unveiled their candy treasures.

I can imagine I'll be climbing angrily out of bed in the dead of night to chase the cat down.

Which is how my lingerie drawer ended up with about a dozen plastic egg halves in it to begin with.

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For fun: How many Easter eggs do you see in this picture?

Ships in the night

Mike and I went to town yesterday for groceries and miscellaneous stuff that we probably didn't need. (I bought $50-worth of garnet chips... yay me!)

While leaving Barnes & Noble - the girls' favorite store - we heard a siren from what I assume was a police car.

And since the neighbor's house burned down, the girls equate sirens with trouble.

Emma: Listen! I think someone got into an accident!

Kristin: Or maybe they're going to jail.

Alison: No, I think someone got their feelings hurt.

(Because cops are on-call therapists. Didn't you know that???)

It was after Alison's comment that Mike burst out laughing. I forget that he's not around very much to hear all their interesting perspectives on life.

Mike's off work this weekend, but I doubt we'll spend much time together.

Today is the first day in over a week that it's not rained (yet). Mike woke up at 2AM and watched movies all morning, and he's climbed back into bed while I'm getting ready to WORK. That sounds fair, right? But I can't pass up the opportunity to get some housework done around here.

I'm hoping to see the sun for a few minutes in between gusts of wind.

If I'm lucky, I'll become a human tumbleweed and roll on down to the local tavern...

Indoctrination

Kids are fantastic regurgitators.

I was privy to quite the conversation among eight Kindergarteners yesterday, mostly involving religion.

(Cute Little Girl): Mrs. S, did Jesus die on Good Friday?

(Mrs. S, quietly): Yes, He did. (Turns to me and whispers as I'm laughing.) We're not supposed to mention it, but if they ask, it's okay.

I nodded my head and kept prepping my yarn project. Mrs. S headed back to the classroom and left her table unattended for the next 15 minutes. That's when things got heated.

(Cute Little Girl): Jesus died on Good Friday and that's why we have Easter.

(Cute Little Boy): And Jesus made the WORLD.

(Cute Little Girl): No he didn't. GOD made the world.

(CLBoy): Nuh uh. JESUS did.

(CLGirl): No, GOD did.

(CLBoy): No, JESUS did.

(CLGirl): No, GOD did, and God made Jesus and the Holy Ghost.

(CLBoy): Then who made GOD?

(Second Little Boy): Maybe he's magic.

(Second Little Girl): I bet a witch cast a spell on God when He was a baby and made him powerful so he could make the world. And then He made HIMSELF. And the GHOST.

(Mrs. S's Triplet Son): We shouldn't talk about Jesus and Ghosts at school.

(The Indoctrinator): Do YOU love Jesus?

(CLBoy): Yeah...

(The Indoctrinator): You have to love Jesus, more than you love anyone else in the WORLD. You have to love Him the most or he won't let you come into Heaven. And you have to PRAY to Him.

(CLGirl): I pray to Him when we go to ESP (or whatever acronym they use for religion classes for kids).

(The Indoctrinator): Well, I pray to Him every night.

(The Atheist): That's silly. Why do you pray to Him? He's just a LEGEND. You're praying to a LEGEND.

(The Indoctrinator, fuming): Don't say that! Don't say it! (standing and turning to each kid at the table) Do YOU think He's a legend? Do YOU think Jesus is a legend??? Do you??? You're not going to Heaven unless you pray and go up to Jesus and apologize to Him. He'll lock you out of Heaven.

(ME): That's ENOUGH. This is NOT an appropriate conversation for school work time. If you want to discuss Jesus, please do that with your parents. Right NOW, it's WORK TIME.

(Mrs. S's Triplet Son): I TOLD you we shouldn't talk about this stuff at school. You should talk about it with your Mom and Dad. You're going to get us locked out of the building.

I couldn't help but snicker at the thought... especially since Little Dicky Indoctrinator and Little Amy Atheist were surely going to tell their parents about the horrors they experienced while piecing together their bunny rabbit candy baskets.

Speaking of indoctrination, the girls have recently begun T-Ball practices. Before this point, they had hardly thrown a ball.

So when the coach started all this Palms down, stand in a T, then bring the ball past your ear and follow through as you step nonsense, my kids looked at him and said Huh WHAT now?!?

Luckily, I was able to work with them last night before their second practice and simplify it to: T. And throw. Kristin was hitting her mark every time.

Then we got to practice and the coach had them all confused. So confused that Alison began mixing her Martial Arts kung-fu kick with her shot put.

I finally explained to the coach that simpler was better. After all, the other kids had obviously had some talent in the world of sports, and MY children missed out on my tomboy genes.

Only MY kids would be the ones crying because she, oh... accidentally slid into home plate. Or lost her nametag.

We might be short on skills, but we'll NEVER run low on drama.

Epitome of ridiculous

Monday morning brought with it one of my excruciating journeys into Clusterfuck Headache Land.

By Monday evening, I was wearing sunglasses in the house. They accented the blue string dangling between my yellow ear plugs quite nicely. No, I'm not posting a picture.

I kept mumbling about how ridiculous I looked, then I'd remember that talking at all caused my brain to explode.

Mike even turned on closed captioning so we could watch a movie together. Literally: watch. The volume was at an all-time low of 3, which is astounding because I'm usually deaf and have that sucker cranked halfway up. (PS. The CC on talk shows sucks.)

So began the 3-day countdown.

Day 2, Tuesday, brought with it pain so intense that I had to push down on my skull with my palm to keep from vomiting. This created challenges in the typing department - hence no Titillating post yesterday and my sincere apologies.

What little typing I did had to be saved for a super secret Mother's Day project I'm completing for my mom and on a time limit, of course.

Day 3, today, has left me with a twinge of pain behind my eyeball but little more. Thankfully, I'll get to test out my resolve and pain tolerance since I'll be volunteering with 70 6-year-olds this morning.

Pray for me, Jeebus.

Valuable lessons of life

1. I am not to be trusted with alarm clocks.

Somehow, I managed to not only turn off FIVE alarms Friday morning, but not remember any of it, only to wake up at 8:02. (I'm beginning to think that number is significant somehow since I always default to waking at 8:02.)

I called Carol in the Office - this time to tell her that I would not be bringing the girls in at all, as opposed to pulling them from school at 11 to leave for Milwaukee. Then I laughed and told her we were having a hard time getting motivated since I overslept and the kids were still in bed.

Carol in the Office didn't seem amused.

2. Road trips never ever ever go as planned, especially when you're trying to get somewhere for dinner reservations.

We left our house promptly at 1:05 on Friday to drive up north.

We encountered torrential downpours.

And neverending construction.

And idiot drivers who must've thought I appreciated being blocked behind them and a delivery truck doing 10-under for 15 miles. (Mike and I played Pick Your Pony. I chose the UPS guy. Mike chose the white-knuckled lady. I won.)

When the girls weren't sleeping, they were begging us for food or to pull over for the 5th, 6th, 700th time to use the bathroom.

The trip that normally takes me 3-1/2 hours (I speed) took us over 6-1/2.

When it became obvious we weren't going to make it to dinner at 6:30, we told my cousin and her husband to go ahead without us (they had other family there as well).

3rd potty stop and more construction. We're on the neverending car ride from hell.

Sorry!!! We just ordered a pitcher of margaritas so there will be alcohol when you get here.

Thank Jeebus.

3. Swimsuit karma is a bitch.

Back in high school and before the days of mix-and-match swimsuits, I used to swap out the bottoms from a large suit for mediums. I can't even count how many times I did it. I should have figured it would bite me in the ass someday.

After dinner on Friday, we walked over to Justice to buy the girls swimsuits.

We found three of those weird 2-piece suits that cover the kids like 1-piece suits. I'm sure they have a name, but I don't know it.

It wasn't until I was at the hotel that I realized karma had struck... my tiniest little monkey, Kristin, was stuck with a size 6 top with balloon-underpants-sized 7s. FARK.

4. Always slide-lock your hotel room door.

It was about 9:30 by the time we hoisted all our luggage and toys and crap out of the car and into the hotel lobby to check in.

Everyone was tired and the girls were pissed that they couldn't swim because the pool was "closed." For those who aren't yet parents, any time you don't want to do anything, it is "closed," or "broken," or "the batteries are dead."

We took our key and walked into our dark hotel room and...

Someone's already in here.

What do you mean?

I mean SOMEONE IS IN HERE. Look at the bed.

I peeked in and sure enough, the sheets were all over the place. Not only that, but the room smelled like armpit.

Thankfully, the person who was staying there wasn't in the room for the shock of their lifetime when five strangers threw their luggage on their floor to rest before trekking back down to the lobby only to have to turn around again and head up to the third floor.

5. Barnes & Noble is a good time had by all.

Mike never stops making fun of people. He held this up to me and said, It reminds me of your sister.

I'm not sure why, but we all congregated toward the children's books. Uncle Ryan gathered all the kids for storytime. Knowing him like I did, I figured he was causing trouble.

I asked: Is it about poop? Did I call it or what?

6. Balloons are awesome. I realize this should be a given, but sometimes we forget just how incredible balloons really are. Especially at the age of almost-3. And especially when they're tied in huge bundles bigger than your body.

7. Swimming should strike fear into the heart of every child. Sunday rolled around and the kids FINALLY (FINALLY!) had a chance to swim at the hotel at 9:30 at night. I have never seen those kids move so fast in and out of elevators and down the hall. Emma and Alison were fighting with Mike that they "knew how to swim."

They don't.

Emma showed us her super-fast lightning splash swimming technique.

Which is ironic because that's exactly what she did when she walked herself into the deep end and over her head about 30 seconds into swimming, flailing her hands to signal Holy shit this water is hard to breathe through!

Mike was waiting for just such a moment and was in there about 10 seconds later to pull her out by her armpit, but Emma made sure to stay in the 3-foot-deep end for the rest of the night. I should mention that both Kristin AND Emma needed to be fished out of the pool, whereas Alison was "diving" underwater for fun.

And stickers. Always stickers.

8. No matter how much you clean your house before leaving for the weekend, something will always smell funky when you come home.

Mike thought it was a little bit of broccoli left in the garbage disposal.

It was when I walked into the girls' bathroom this morning that I found the culprit.

They'd shut the door, so it was especially foul to walk into the bathroom and see the murky turd soup waiting for me, screaming Welcome home!!!!

Nothing says "home" like unflushed turds.

9. Kids can shorten anything.

Like a combined 11-1/2 hours on the road, plus a swimming adventure, and some shopping, and some partying, and playing on a huge playground set, plus a little bit of visiting with family, and lots of food.

Hey Emma, what did we do this weekend?

We went to a restaurant.

Anything else?

Um... nope.

Memories that make you want to burn your retinas

It's been a while since I've showered with the kids.

The constant finger pokes to the rear and comments on my sizeable butt crack were a major deterrent. (Hear that, Mike? I don't even let the KIDS get away with those sorts of shenanigans.)

Plus, they're getting to the age when - unless we're in a Northern Wisconsin campground shower and the hot water is limited to 1/2 a pint - it's best if they don't feel so comfortable around Mommy's saggy naked skin.

I didn't have time this morning for a bath and the small tsunami that ensues, so I let the girls get in the shower with me.

Mom, I love your jewelry! That looks like FUN.

Yep. THE END. You have officially figured out the one thing that will banish you from my showers forever.

They still talk about how mommy got a "shot to her butt" in the doctor's office.

Which makes me wonder which traumatizing Mommy Moment will be burned into their brains as their first vivid memory...

Better save for therapy.

Alas, I'll ponder that another day. It's time to get moving. We've got another load of laundry to finish and two rooms to clean before leaving for Milwaukee.

Are you ready for us? Mwahahahaha.

Thursday Blursday

I didn't volunteer at school yesterday because I needed to start cleaning out the basement.

I didn't volunteer today because I'm tired, I'm cramped, and the girls are getting out of school at noon tomorrow so we can drive to Wisconsin and I figured I may as well just help out then.

So what's my excuse going to be tomorrow? Anyone have any good ones?

I've gotta keep it short today since there's the second half of the basement storage calling my name: Come and sort me! Time to throw out Mike's Polo shirt from 1995! You'd need a tetanus shot to wear any of this Claire's jewelry... chuck it! Loooooorennnn.... Where arrrrrre you????

And it takes every ounce of energy while packing these totes not to constantly say out loud Totes m'gotes.

Every. Ounce.

Mike is at a meeting after 2 hours of sleep last night, so he'll be coming home nappy. The kids I'm sure will be just as "entertaining" as always, if you think it's entertaining to have Emma announce to the world that she farted on Tuesday. Several times. Then proceeded to make fart noises with her mouth.

Other than that, nothing much is happening today. I think I'll lock Mike in our room to sleep, lock the kids in theirs with games, and dig up a bottle of wine at the end of today.

Or drink Mike's PBR.

A girl's gotta do...

Tuesday's Mike-isms

(Mike chucks a bagel sandwich at me; it bounces off my arm)

Me: Ow! Be careful... that thing's not built for comfort.

Mike: Your mom's built for comfort.

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Me: You planning on taking a shower? You want company?

(no comment... the water starts running)

Mike: ANY WHITE WOMEN WANTING TO SHOWER MAY NOW JOIN ME.

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Mike: So it looks like Shawnda* has put on weight.

Me: Are you just saying that to make me think you don't find her cute? Maybe you're a chubby chaser.

Mike: You're fat, and I don't like you...

Me: Good point.

*Shawnda is not her real name. Obviously.

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Me: Have you trimmed your nose hairs lately?

Mike: Have you trimmed your butt hairs lately?

Me: You are so predictable.

Mike: Your mom is predictable...

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Me (over the phone): Alison came in the house sobbing and bleeding from the knees. She said Emma pushed her because: 'She wanted to give me the ball but she didn't let me have it and I tried to get it so she pushed me.' I asked Emma and it sounds like Alison tried to steal her bike so Emma shoved her off. That girl is getting some attitude.

Mike (in his best Shaniqua voice): BITCH, you'd betta GIMME BACK MY BIKE!

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Mike: I don't like music like this (Ke$ha) because it only has one use: during a 10-second scene of a teen movie.

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Mike: I can't wait until you girls have friends over. Daddy's gonna be all pretty in pink.

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Mike: He knew it was the cleaning lady who stole his chicken wings because he put them in the fridge and was the next person back up there besides her. And people were asking why he didn't just tell her he wanted his food back, but he's like, 'She's a big gal. They're my wings... until she takes them and then their HERS. I'm not gonna come between that lady and her chicken, no way.' But no one reports her because she does a damn good job cleaning.... She stole two pizzas, too.

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Me: Your hair is getting so big and fluffy!

Mike: It's to take away the attention from my tiny penis.

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Mike: I love that your dad doesn't have to be all PC with me at work. I told him I fucked up and forgot to hit the lower button the second time so the machine went in the hay. He pretty much said, 'Quit fucking up.' It's great.

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(at Biaggi's Italiano Ristorante; Kristin insists that I sprinkle parmesan cheese over her Mac 'N' Cheese supper no matter how much I try to explain it already IS cheese)

Me: There... that better?

Mike: From trashy to classy at the speed of cheese.

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(car with bad exhaust pipes passes by the restaurant)

Kristin: What was THAT?

Mike: A go kart.

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Mike: You've gotta write about this on your blog. Document how funny I was today.

Me: I'll give you your own blog post. Now can I have that gift card? I'll put it in my wallet.

Mike: I'll put it in your mom.

Titillating Tuesday: Feed me, Seymour

Our poor cat.

We love you so much, Moochie! Now stay here so we can bombard you with stuffed animals and blankets for being the furry little baby you are.

I only pitied her for about 30 seconds because it's after I walked away that she chased and bit my pant leg for not feeding her lunch meat.

It's a reverse Kick the Dog.

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Why is it that people can get their clothes all the way to the laundry hamper, but they then drape the clothes over the edge?

There's no SUPER SECRET LAUNDRY VORTEX that your jeans are going to slide into if you put them ALL the way into the hamper. And yes, I will see that there are clothes in there without half of the shirt hanging out.

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Michele brought it to our attention that an Illinois school principal has decided to ban lunches from home. Supposedly for "nutritional purposes." I highly recommend you go to her blog, read up, and post your thoughts. There's definitely something else going on at that school that has nothing to do with more green on the kids' plates and more to do with adding green to the school's federal funds.

And have you SEEN school lunches lately?

I was a picky eater as a kid, and I would complain about the (homemade) dishes we were served in Catholic grade school. Luckily, we had a lunch buffet in public middle school - I believe it was new at that time waaaay back in 1995 - and you could choose items like loaded baked potatoes where you picked your own toppings, or pizza, or salad, or an entree of some kind that they made on site.

(I'm drooling just thinking back to it.)

But NOW???

Emma BEGS to take lunch from home. When I forget to pack them, the girls get stuck with what seems like one of five meals in rotation: pizza, tacos, breaded chicken product on a dry white bun, hotdog on a dry white bun, and on special occasions: three thin slices of Canadian bacon with brown gravy over instant potatoes.

And applesauce. Always applesauce. Sometimes they dye it green. Or pink.*

*This might be a slight exaggeration. I think they throw in pineapple or peaches once a month.

EVERY.

SINGLE.

TEACHER.

Brings lunch from home. Or buys a specially-made yogurt/granola/fruit parfait thingy that the kitchen makes only for staff members.

It's pretty bleak. And if the kitchen witches ever told Emma she wouldn't be allowed to bring pesto pasta to school anymore, she'd whittle herself a shank out of a spoon handle and cut someone.

The kids come home starving because they only eat about 50 cents-worth of a $3 meal.

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Even before the article and debate over school lunch choice came up yesterday, I'd spent several hours cutting up fresh fruit, vegetables and meat for the week's lunches and suppers. (Thank you, Helene, for the idea of cutting up all your meat for the week and storing it... it's going to save me so much time!)

I can't afford to pay for school lunches AND feed them "lunch" when they get home. So I've decided to buck up and pack lunches for the next 7 weeks.

I'm also getting better at not over-buying perishables and throwing a bunch of shit out, which seems to be my favorite hobby. I was SO good this past week, that I had gone through almost all of our veggies.

Our bottom fridge shelf was nearly empty, and now? Now we have easy and pre-packaged lunches. Healthy. And totally free of questionable meat product.

The girls were so happy to take their individually catered sandwiches, watermelon, and pickles/tomatoes to school this morning. Tomorrow: salads with carrots, strawberries and nuts on top and raspberry vinaigrette, and possibly some leftover beef and peapods.

I guess this is my fault for not feeding them chicken nuggets until they were past the age when the chicken-boot gag reflex is born.

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Two interesting political points that I won't bore you with too many details, but I wanted to mention them.

1) I'd heard of a new conspiracy theory about Obama's hair whorl or "scar". He's had brain surgery, he's part alien, he's the Manchurian candidate, that's why needs teleprompters, etc, etc. One quote of interest from Anderson Cooper about the whole thing:

Right this minute you can go online and find... a potato chip that looks like Jesus. Here's the photographic proof that Dick Cheney is a robot... People like the "scar-gazers" have always been around. Once upon a time, we nodded politely at them when they cornered us in the checkout line at the grocery store, we changed seats on the subway to escape them, carefully avoided them at family reunions. But now their chorus of crazy is louder than ever, and like-minded strangers have a place to gather and cheer each other on... Thank you, internet.

2) And another article by LZ Granderson that caught my eye regarding whether or not the politically ignorant should be allowed to vote.

Quote of interest:

...we all know people who gleefully admit they know nothing about politics, don't have time to find out what the current issues are or even know how the government works, but go out and vote. Want to know why it seems Washington is run by a bunch of idiots? Blame this hiccup in our political system for starters.

Interesting. And in my opinion? True. If you don't believe me, watch the debates in the primaries. They're catering to their core party members with EVERY WORD.

(And don't believe Donald Trump when he says he'd rather talk about China and nuclear energy and ANYTHING of substance... if you watch his interview, he continually turns it back to the birth certificate. He'd MUCH rather talk about that because there are a group of people called Birthers and he's looking to sweep their votes. It makes one wonder what he plans to do if he actually won. Continue to complain about Hawaiian paperwork?)

Here's a clip below. I can't find the much better version that shows not only Trump's refusal to get OFF of that topic, but the version where they edited in copies and clips of paperwork and phone calls that disproved Trump's claims. Why can't we nominate someone NORMAL like Romney?

Nothing is scarier than a fanatic with the right to vote.

Tornados suck

I called my parents last night, Do you know if those clouds were all we're supposed to get tonight? It didn't even RAIN.

I watched a front pass over us that looked like the first wall of a hurricane just before the sun popped out. Little did I know that as I was wondering where the storm went, a powerful tornado was blowing through my hometown in Wisconsin.

I'm still trying to piece together what happened from friends and family, but it seems to have started south of Council Grounds then picked up speed through the airport and across Hillside to the lake.

I grew up there. (Not just in Merrill, but right in the path at that orange circle. I lived half my life on Pa-Tray Lane.)

I have to laugh at the amount of video footage that's being posted to Facebook... leave it to Merrillites to forego safety for the sake of "journalism."

While the path of the storm seemed mostly rural, there were a lot of homes destroyed and damaged. One guy said he had just gotten to shelter when he looked up and saw sky - his house had been swiped right off the foundation. He thought there was no way they would survive the next few minutes.

And we're hearing stories of friends who lost houses and pets and vehicles. One is a family friend who barely got his daughter into the basement before the storm hit, sucking his house away along with their brand new puppy who'd decided to turn back up the steps. His truck is now in a swamp.

I just spoke to my Aunty Kritsy. She had me laughing so hard at how lucky they were... they'd gone to bed last night listening to the "wind" as it picked up and all the cars passing their house on their usually deserted country road. When she drove to work this morning, she noticed the tops of some of their trees were down, and further down the road, a whole swath of trees were gone, leaving a path through the woods at least 3/4 of a mile wide. The tornado had "hopped" over their house as they slept. Sheesh! I told her to sleep with her concrete boots on next time, just to be safe.

Businesses - one of which was a town staple for decades - were blown completely away or torn down to their metal skeletons.

I'm so sad. I find storms fascinating, but people are saying this one was a bohemoth that they'll be measuring using miles.

Here's video of the storm as it passed over Hwy 51 (just to the east of the lake) and appeared to rise back into itself.

I'm also grateful. This storm missed all of my family members and so far I've heard reports of damage to friends' homes but no injuries. My mother had just arrived home on Saturday after staying up in Merrill for over a week, so I'm especially grateful for that. My grandmother - who lives in town on the North side - only had a few things blown around on her porch, and I'm sure that'll be enough to keep her fretting to her card club buddies for the next week or so. I'm so glad nothing worse happened or she'd be inconsolable.

If anyone knows of a donation site or families who need children's items, etcetera, please let me know.

I've gotta stop Googling this stuff and take a nap. I stayed up so late last night worrying that I overslept my three alarms.

Preparing for bad weather and blood-thirsty bears

It's about that time... time to round up the flashlights and prepare for all this "weather" coming through.

If - by chance - our house gets blown away by a tornado, we'll be under the staircase in the laundry room. Just follow the distinct smell of cat shit since that's where her litter box is, too.

I realize it was 85* outside today, but my kids spent the entire afternoon in the house asking, Was THAT a tornado? every time the wind whistled around the house.

Mike started answering yes just so they'd leave him alone.

And because we're all about preparedness here (says the woman who has an expired fire extinguisher under the sink) Emma has built herself a nice little stick hill in the front yard.

Have you ever seen the movie The Edge from 1997 with Sir Anthony Hopkins and Alec Baldwin? Specifically the scene when they kill the bear with sharp sticks angled upward from the ground?

Emma has. It's been playing on Ion for several weeks and Mike goes all TV-Coma when he watches it. He didn't realize that our child was watching, fascinated. So I knew exactly what she was referring to when she said, I'm gonna kill a BEAR! while ramming the sticks into the dirt.

Because that's not weird... at ALL. My child is more concerned about random bear attacks than being sucked up in a twister. Unlike her mother. (I spent the entire morning cleaning in case we have a tornado, because THAT's not weird, either.)

I'm also thinking of stashing my newest set of hematite jewelry somewhere on my person, just in case. The thought of restringing 120 hematite beads makes me want to vomit.

Not weird. Not one bit.

Bugger off, cobwebs

It's supposed to rain today. Again.

I know this because Emma begged to take her Hello Kitty umbrella to school this morning. I of course caved in. I don't put up much of a fight after dragging their sleeping baby carcasses out of bed with 30 minutes to get them all awake, fed, dressed, brushed, de-stinkified in the mouth-al region, and in the car.

Which is also how their favorite stuffed animals went to school with them today. The teachers can deal with that.

I thought I'd spend my morning folding laundry and making jewelry - two activities that require minimal brain involvement.

Dear, God. It's me, The Mom. I don't want to use my brain today. Can't it get a vacation? I used up all my energy pulling apart that damned turkey breast last night and pretending to care about the girls' Lego creations. Isn't that enough? What do you want from me?!? Sincerely, The Woman Falling Asleep While Standing

I already had my day planned out, but I really don't feel like packing up totes in the basement today.

Especially after the bed bug dream I had last night. Ick. I want to stay far, far away from any place that might house spiders or anything creepy crawly. I was scratching all night and freaking out about spiders. Lucky for Mike, I wasn't sleep-spider-fighting so I could keep my arm thrashing to a minimum.*

*Edited to Add: Mike says I was yelling in my sleep last night: Get it! Get away! So I evidently wasn't as lucid as I thought.

Speaking of creepy - and completely out of left field unless you watch Ellen - does Ralph Macchio give anyone else the heebie jeebies?

I saw him on DWTS and when he went over to his wife and white-Urkel son, I felt a little vomit rise in my throat. Some child actors should never ever ever grow up to be adults. We should freeze them in their cute tiny kid bodies.

Like the kid from Sixth Sense.

Who, in this picture, was arrested for possession of marijuana and drunk driving resulting in an accident.

Crime doesn't pay. Unless you can write a bestselling book about it.

Okay, so back to MY life:

Duh duh dunnnn.... (cue ominous music)

I got a happy little letter in my mailbox yesterday from the IRS.

Dear Sucker, You owe us $600 from 2008. Thanks and you're welcome. Love, the IRAss.

Well, crap. It was my mistake and I kinda wondered if they'd ever catch it. (They did.) And I don't feel that bad about paying it since it's state and local school district taxes they need in order to pay for our brand new high school. But our tax return this year keeps shrinking, and shrinking, and shrinking...

Which completely puts a damper on the theory behind hiring a maid since I apparently "suck" at housework.

Then again, the spiders don't seem to mind a little dust here and there.

I need to find a poem my mom had had hung in her house for the longest time that went something like Quiet down cobwebs, Dust go to sleep, I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

So there you have it. Bugger off, cobwebs. My kids might not be babies, but that doesn't mean that I couldn't use a nap.

Hopefully one that doesn't involve creepy crawlies OR Karate Kids.

Trouble's a-brewin'

Do you ever feel like there's so much going on in the world that you should document it for your children?

Like this guy - the one who puts up the anti-Obama signs along I380 that crack me up, mostly because they're usually witty and prove to me that no matter what a Democratic president does, a good share of Republicans will piss and moan about him. (Isn't the world supposed to have ended by now? Obama's been president for... just over 2 years.)

This guy's right... Obama has NO CLUE how many millions of people will be helped with his evil Obamacare. He's so evil, and Kenyan, or something... That evil Kenyan, always trying to get people to see a doctor for ailments and eat healthy foods. Oh wait, that's his evil blacky wife. Damn them and their healthy ways. I think obesity and debilitating Diabetes should be the wave of the future. That's just me being patriotic.

I would say this guy needs to get over it, but then who would put up those signs??? I would be devastated.

And this whole crazy ordeal with Africa? I told Mike weeks ago it would be a mistake for America NOT to get involved. We're looked at as hypocrites for not stepping up in humanitarian situations.

Then it happened, and I was all: Wow, that was MY idea! Thank me later.

I pointed out to Mike a couple days ago that Italy had officially "recognized" the rebel leadership in Libya. I asked if he understood the ramifications of such a declaration, and we talked for a few minutes about international relations, yada yada yada.

So what does Mike do?

He changed his shirt to his Italia soccer shirt... and I quote: In recognition of Italy's recognition of Libyan rebels.

Smartass.

Turns out we have much bigger problems than political discontent, in OUR house, at least.

We still can't get the shoe situation sorted out.

Look closely. That's two righties, two lefties, then a complete switcheroo.

I'm shocked they weren't walking in circles.

It's not like we were headed anywhere important - just the local fireman's pancake breakfast. We try to go every year to show our financial and emotional support for our firemen, and of course, snag a picture with a firetruck.

Alison wants to be a fighter-fighter when she grows up. Should I break it to her now or later that firefighters don't prance around with purses and glitter lip gloss?

They've been dressing themselves more alike lately. I don't know what the deal is, but I'm so glad we're running out of matchy matchy clothes. The outfits above have to be a size 4-ish, so hopefully this is their last summer. (Except for the stuff my mother keeps buying them... yes, Mother, I'm talking about you.)

You know what THAT means... time to do some more shopping for kids' clothes.

If I have any money left after finishing the garden, and the basement, and building storage shelves in the garage so we can EMPTY the basement, and Mike's addiction to everything duffle bag. I swear they get bigger every year.

I should have padlocked it shut while I had him trapped.

I told him he is NOT getting a new one next year. I draw the line at human-being-sized.

He's been kinda on "my list" lately since he scolded me for having too many projects. You know, the GARDEN, and the BASEMENT, and the GARAGE... my FUN projects. Because I do those things purely for FUN.

I need to remind myself how FUN it is as I shovel the last of the dirt into my garden this morning.

Fun, fun, fun, fun....

He'd better watch himself now that I have a duffle bag nearby able to hold a human body.

Trickery and alcohol

It's been nothing but a party at our house.

First it was Saturday Girls' Night IN at our place while we shipped all the men and children over to another house. All my kids survived, although I heard later that Kristin managed to lock herself into their bathroom and started screaming bloody murder.

And Emma helped herself to a bag of Ritz sandwiches for "supper." But what am I complaining about? This is the sister of the girl who drank an entire pint of maple syrup for a snack. This is NORMAL.

The women - child free - on the other hand, spent the evening sitting around my dining room table, complaining about lack of sex and how long Mike's hair is. Okay, maybe that was just me.

I had no idea what Mike was up to all night since he'd left his phone at home, but I noticed some of the other wives were getting text messages. They relayed that the men left the kids with an older neighbor kid in order to "taste test" another neighbor's hard liquors. There was a groan around the table. Especially me, since Mike had gotten a little ornery the night before and was still on time out.

One of them turned to me an hour later and read off her screen: Mike is passed out next to the toilet. Tell Loren she'll have to stop by to get the kids.

Oh my Christ.

Then another text from another husband: I can walk Mike home in a few hours. At least Mike's not as bad as C (the neighbor who'd never been privileged to hang out with the crazy hoard of men yet).

So we gathered our belongings and snitched the last of the food off the taco bar. I threw my hair up in a ponytail, slipped into a comfy sweatshirt and put on flat tennies in preparation of dragging a man-carcass across a few lawns. I was cursing him under my breath.

I walked in their door and what should my eyes see but a bunch of nearly sober men laughing their asses off on the couch.

Fuckers.

Aside from their joke, I loved spending time with everyone this weekend. It was a LONG winter.

In other news, the dirt pile I'd had delivered last week is being slowly whittled away. Mike's getting in on the action for fear that it will be there next year, just like our rock pile a few years ago (that finally disappeared once I told the neighbor he could use the rest at his church).

Of course, the kids find the dirt irresistable.

It's the first place they head to when we get home from school. I've finally convinced Mike it's okay that they get caked in mud because we have crazy inventions called bath tubs now. Still, he's less than thrilled.

And it took someone on Facebook to point out that someone (from the above picture) was "supervising." Emma made herself a 4x4 throne from which to shout orders at Mike.

On a final note: the girls chickened out at the last minute on their April Fool's joke. Mike was soooo disappointed.

April Fool's Day... aka Expulsion Day

I'm waiting for a call from the girls' school this morning.

Yesterday, we took the girls to the local bar for "chicken on a stick" (broiled chicken legs) and french fries. Of course, I enjoyed a lovely glass of ice water.

The entire time, the slightly intoxicated but sweethearted locals drunk-whispered about our girls.

Mike: Emma, can you lick your elbow?

Emma (trying): No...

Mike (laughing) : Keep trying.

Alison leaned forward and licked Emma's elbow for her.

Then - because we were already laughing and probably had quite the audience - Mike told the girls to try touching their elbows to their noses.

It was five minutes of pure entertainment. Afterward, an older woman brought over two quarters for each girls to get treats from the candy machine.

Mike decided it was so much fun messing with the kids, that he convinced them to switch classrooms this morning for April Fool's Day.

They dressed in each other's clothes, ate each other's favorite breakfast food, and carried each other's backpacks into school. Oh boy.

It's 9:30 and I haven't heard anything... yet.

I was hoping to get some yardwork done today, but it's awefully gloomy. Plus the dirt pile looks a lot smaller until you're shoveling it by the scoopful into a wheelbarrow.

At least I finished painting the garden yesterday and started laying down the newspapers. I also covered up the carcass of a rabbit that was butchered there, hopefully by a cat pleasenotasnakepleasenotasnake.

Maybe I should stay inside and do some laundry?

NOT.

April Fool's!