11:52 a.m.

seven years ago we welcomed another beautiful soul into our lives.

malia, who was only 27 months old, was no longer an only child.  she became a big sister.

seven years have come & gone.  quickly.  

our happy-go-lucky baby is now a happy-go-lucky little boy.

happy 7th birthday to aidan.

moms don't get grossed out...or do they?

i've said it before..."i'm a mom. nothing grosses me out anymore."

i mean, i can handle potty talk - of the pee & poo kind, but i can deal with the other kind of potty talk, too.

potty talk while eating? no problem. it's gross, i know, but momma's not gonna let anything come between her & her food.

problems with the pee or poo? no sweat. i've potty-trained two children - one of whom had some serious "elimination issues" - so talk about constipation, diarrhea or suppositories don't make me cringe. wiping butts isn't an issue either...unless you are too damn old to be asking someone to wipe your hiney.

projectile vomit doesn't send me running. i will even investigate to see if something was eaten that shouldn't have been {imagine my son's dismay when just a few weeks ago he was busted - post-vomit - for eating airheads of the blue variety}.

boogers & snot? no worries. i'll pick your nose or wipe it...whatever is needed.

dirty sheets? it doesn't matter the accident {well, maybe it does}, but i'll wash them for you.

high fevers? motrin & a tepid bath it is!

funky rashes, bumps & other skin wickedness? i've got some cream in the cabinet somewhere.

i like to feel that i'm pretty immune to most all of what gets thrown my way now that i'm a semi-experienced mother of two {and by semi-experienced i mean that my kids haven't reach the 'tween/teen years yet...that's a whole 'nother ballgame!}.

however...and this is a big however...

i do get grossed out.

did you notice that i did not mention a single word about blood or loose teeth? yep. you guessed it...

if you're bleeding for any reason other than a paper cut or a minor scrape, please go bother someone else. don't even ask me for a band aid. i can't help you. i won't help you. yeah, yeah, yeah...i birthed two babies. there was blood. but that was my blood, people! i don't want to see your blood.

as for loose teeth, don't wiggle them in front of me even if i did ask you, "is your tooth loose?" and, if they are really wiggly & just hanging by a nerve, please don't come running to show me. you'll be asked kindly to "go find your father." i have even been known to bribe my children to get them away from me with their loose teeth {this almost always seems work against me...i still owe my daughter the dress she wanted from target because i told her that if she would just pull out her loose tooth i would get it}.

needless to say, i guess i'm not as 'tough' as i think i am. but, i suppose being squeamish about two out of the many gross things that come along with having children isn't really bad. is it?

my little man.

i'm talking about my little boy. he is six and, holy cow, he is such a little man. he can be a sweet, polite, chivalrous gentleman...but usually he's a goofy, stinky, aggravating kind of man. {aggravating in only the way a mother could understand & love.}

don't get me wrong. he's a sweet boy. he always has been. but, the bottom line is, my son is a man. seriously. i swear {and, other mothers out there who have boys, please correct me if i'm wrong} that from day one they really do act & behave like men by doing man-like things. for example:

hand...meet the penis. changing a diaper...his hand was there. potty training...his hand was there. watching t.v....his hand was there. sleeping...yes, sleeping...his hand was there. it even has a name. and, sadly, this trait seems to last into adulthood.

burping & farting at the dinner table is perfectly acceptable behavior. it is also behavior that he believes should be followed with ridiculous laughter rather than an 'excuse me.' {in my defense, my son does have manners...good ones at that...and he does say 'excuse me' immediately...or else.}

burping & farting anywhere is okay. the stinkier, the better.

it's okay to sit - whoa, i originally typed shit...whoops...well, that, too - on the toilet for long periods of time. when he gets older, he'll probably read the sports section of the newspaper like his dad, but for now he is happy playing his nintendo ds. in the bathroom. while on the toilet. gross. {thank goodness for lysol wipes.}

'boys rule, girls drool' is his motto...much to the dismay of his {older} sister. she may wear the pants in their relationship, but it's aidan's job to irritate to hell out of malia. but, if you ask her, she'll just tell you that 'boys go to jupiter to get more stupider.'

mess? what mess? honestly, boys {men, too} are oblivious to any & all trails of destruction that they leave behind. pile of laundry...next to the hamper. dirty cups & bowls...next to the sink. pee...on the toilet rather than in it. toothpaste chunks...in the sink. wet towels...on the floor or bed. toys...found everywhere but in the toy box.

what's wrong with jeans that are too short, no socks, the same shirt i wore yesterday & stinky shoes? this seems to be my son's favorite ensemble. i understand that it's quite possibly my fault that there is a pair of jeans in his drawer that can moonlight as capris, but i'm ok with him wearing them to play in...not to go to school in. fashion sense...a keen one at that...does not run on the male side of this family. clearly, the girls were the only ones blessed with that gift.

there's more, but i think you get the gist of it. he's a little man. a little, goofy, stinky, silly man. it is my hope that he will continue to be his happy-go-lucky self. and, even better, perhaps he will grow up to be a charming, marvelous & respectful man {he had better!}. and, maybe, just maybe some of his sister's fashion sense will rub off onto him.

keep out!

For those of you who have children, you'll appreciate this.

I remember the birth of both of my children. Vividly. Well, I may not remember much about the pain {God bless the anesthesiologists...I was not going to go through childbirth 'au natural'}, but I do remember my labors & deliveries.

With Malia, it was long. Long & intense. I was induced {I was young, easily swayed & had an aching back}. The contractions started immediately. My contractions were having contractions. The next day - because, yes, I labored through the night & most of the next day - my water was broken. My contractions were still having contractions. Nearly 24 hours later, it was time to deliver my daughter. After almost three hours of pushing, Malia was born.

With Aidan - who came along 27 months later - my labor was short. Short & sweet. Again, I was induced. However, this time it was because Aidan was late. A week late. Besides, my poor body could not tolerate the swelling or the nearly 70 pound weight gain any longer {I gained about 60 pounds when I was pregnant with my daughter}. Not even an hour after I was admitted to the hospital, my water broke. On it's own. What an embarrassing feeling that was. I wasn't even in the hospital for 5 hours when I gave birth to Aidan. His delivery was a breeze. There was a lot of laughing. Laughing & comments about my smooth legs because, yes, I just HAD to shave them before "D day."

But, the point of this post isn't what my children's births were like. It's about who was there {my mom, sister & Adam}...and, more specifically, about Adam being there.

Malia's birth was pretty uneventful, but he's lucky he made it out of the hospital alive after I had our son. He nearly missed the delivery because he was in the drive-thru at Arby's. The man ate curly french fries while I was pushing out our son. Seriously. Since when does laboring & delivering a baby call for hors d'oeuvres?! Besides, I had not eaten since the night before and I was ready to KILL for some freakin' curly fries.

I guess you could say that I was more concerned about trivial bullshit {i.e., those God forsaken curly fries!} than I was about my husband being in the delivery room. I mean, being naked from the waist down & spread eagle for all to see was the least of my worries. I just wanted those damn french fries. For me, childbirth made any sort of modesty {and rationality} fly right out the window. I was not a woman who was embarrassed by the process of childbirth. I didn't care if I let out the longest fart of my life while pushing my child out. Oh, and did I blush when the nurse said to 'bear down like you're having a bowel movement?' Nope. I just pretended I was on a big toilet trying to take the dump of my life.

I suppose I'm not the norm when it comes to birthing babies.

Some women are actually quite apprehensive about having their spouse or significant other in the delivery room with them. And, it's not all about the nerves either. It's been suggested that deliveries may be easier & faster if said male was NOT a part of the delivery room crowd. Hmm...had Adam not been there - with those effin' curly fries - maybe, just maybe....nah.

My friend, Jenny, wrote a fun piece about men & the delivery room. It's hilarious. I urge you all to read it...even if you don't have kids. Let me know what you think. Even better...let Jenny know what you think.

Seriously...READ IT.



For those of you who don't click on links or haven't taken my three hints, the website is this:
http://www.truuconfessions.com/blogs/653

AN INTERVIEW WITH MY CHILDREN

I'm guilty.

I took a cue from a few other mommy blogger's out there (like Mary from Pajamas and Coffee) and decided to interview my kids. The results are pretty funny. Both children had some very different ideas about mommy and daddy.

I interviewed my 5 year old son, Aidan, first. While he was giving me his answers, his 8 year old sister, Malia, kept asking, "Is this some sort of test? Why are you asking us these questions??" Our little interview session proved to be a fun activity for a Friday night -- Adam and I were thoroughly entertained by some of their answers.

You'll see why...

1. What is something mommy/daddy always says to you?
Aidan:
Mommy - Do not scream.
Daddy - Do not watch gun movies.
Malia:
Mommy - Clean your room.
Daddy - Um....<giggle>...<long pause>...do what your mommy says.

2. What makes mommy/daddy happy?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh...giving you hugs & kisses.
Daddy - Uh...<long pause>...by...uh...like kids being good.
Malia:
Mommy - When we do what we're told.
Daddy - Football.

3. What makes mommy/daddy sad?
Aidan:
Mommy - Not listening.
Daddy - Uh...uh...not listening, too.
Malia:
Mommy - When we don't do what we're told.
Daddy - When we're bad.

4. How does your mommy/daddy make you laugh?
Aidan:
Mommy - By telling me funny jokes.
Daddy - Uh...by tickling me.
Malia:
Mommy - When we take a picture & she makes a funny face.
Daddy - When I tickle him.

5. What was your mommy/daddy like as a child?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh...I don't know.
Daddy - Hmm...playing with him.
Malia:
Mommy - Little, cute, pretty, sassy (hmmm...sounds like who?? *cough*Malia*cough*)
Daddy - Kinda tall, funny looking, um, curly hair with greenish eyes kind of

6. How old is your mommy/daddy?
Aidan:
Mommy & Daddy are both FIRTY ONE (I love how he makes the "f" sound for anything with the "th" sound)
Malia:
Mommy & Daddy are both 31.

7. How tall is your mommy/daddy?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh...I don't know.
Daddy - 22, I fink (think).
Malia:
Mommy - 7.4 inches
Daddy - 10.0 centimeters (wow, she said I'm taller than Adam...woo hoo! LOL)

8. What is mommy's/daddy's favorite thing to do?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, clean the house. (Adam started laughing and said, "That explains a lot." WTF is that supposed to me...ya big jerk!?)
Daddy - Working...really late.
Malia:
Mommy - Baking cakes.
Daddy - Watching football & NASCAR

9. What does your mommy/daddy do when you're not there?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, go to work.
Daddy - Uh, he just, uh, goes to a wedding...actually, he goes to work, too.
Malia:
Mommy - Go to work.
Daddy - Go to the field and work.

10. If your mommy/daddy becomes famous, what will it be for?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, lucky.
Daddy - Super duper lucky. (I think he's right, if we were to ever become famous it would be just because we're lucky and nothing else. LOL)
Malia:
Mommy - Her cooking. (Seriously? Surely she must have meant my baking.)
Daddy - Um...the world's most laziest dad. (OUCH! He's really not lazy...thank goodness he's useful to have around! Ha ha!)

11. What is your mommy/daddy really good at?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, doing yardwork.
Daddy - Uh, he's good at tickling me.
Malia:
Mommy - Art.
Daddy - Bricklaying.

12. What is your mommy/daddy not really good at?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, not really good at, uh, I don't know. (smart answer, son)
Daddy - Staking papers.
Malia:
Mommy - Hmmm...that's a hard one...um, cleaning? No, no...wait, wait...I don't know. (another smart answer!)
Daddy - Um, doing what you tell him to do. (That's my girl!)

13. What does your mommy/daddy do for a job?
Aidan:
Mommy & Daddy both make money.
Malia:
Mommy - She fills in orders of what my dad needs out in the field to do his projects.
Daddy - Bricklaying.

14. What is your mommy's/daddy's favorite food?
Aidan:
Mommy - Rice and drumsticks. (does he mean the ice cream or chicken??)
Daddy - Peas, onions and peppers...hot peppers.
Malia:
Mommy - Apples, grapefruit and grapes.
Daddy - Carrots, cabbage and spinach.

15. What makes you proud of your mommy/daddy?
Aidan:
Mommy - Uh, about you going far away somewhere and always coming back.
Daddy - When Daddy tickles me.
Malia:
Mommy - Knowing that she cares about me.
Daddy - Knowing that he loves me. (Hey, I love Malia, too, ya know!)

16. If your mommy/daddy were a cartoon character, who would she/he be?
Aidan:
Mommy - A Smurf.
Daddy - He would be Superman.
Malia:
Mommy - Wilma Flintstone.
Daddy - <giggling>...he would be Shaggy from Scooby Doo.

17. What do you and your mommy/daddy do together?
Aidan:
Mommy - We play together.
Daddy - We tickle each other.
Malia:
Mommy - Girl stuff...go to the mall & things.
Daddy - Cook.

18. How are you and your mommy/daddy the same?
Aidan:
Mommy - 'Cause we both have the same skin.
Daddy - Uh, 'cause me and daddy, uh, we have hats.
Malia:
Mommy - Because we both like to go to the mall and we love each other.
Daddy - Um, because me and my dad like to cook and we're both deep sleepers.

19. How are you and your mommy/daddy different?
Aidan:
Mommy - 'Cause you have long hair and I have short hair. (how funny -- I just cut my hair yesterday and it's really not much longer than his in the back!)
Daddy - 'Cause daddy has a mustache and I have no mustache.
Malia:
Mommy - Because my mom is older than me and she has a job.
Daddy - Because my dad has a job and he, um, he mostly uses knives.

20. How do you know that your mommy/daddy loves you?
Aidan:
Mommy - You give me kisses.
Daddy - He gives me hugs.
Malia:
Mommy - She cares about me.
Daddy - He cares about me, too.

21. What does your mommy like most about your daddy?
Aidan: 'Cause you guys got married.
Malia: He is very nice.

22. What does your daddy like most about your mommy?
Aidan: 'Cause he gives you kisses.
Malia: You're pretty.

23. Where is your mommy's/daddy's favorite place to go?
Aidan:
Mommy - The Melting Pot
Daddy - El Tapatio
Malia:
Mommy - The wine festival.
Daddy - To the Redskins football game like when he went with Fred.

MY WISH

Jade Goody's very public battle with cervical cancer and Natasha Richardson's tragic death have left me wondering...

Both women are/were mothers. Both women love(d) and cherish(ed) their families. Both women will leave/left behind a loving spouse. I think it's safe to say that Jade Goody has come to terms with her terminal illness and is doing everything and anything she can to preserve her memory for her two young boys. Natasha Richardson never really got the chance to do that for her sons.

Life is precious. It's taken away at a moment's notice. I think as a mother both women touch my heart in very different ways, but one thing is for certain - how would I want my children to remember me...what do I want for my children...what kind of legacy will I leave behind? I can't think about this without getting emotional. All of the "what if's" aren't something that I normally tend to think about, but here lately I just can't help but to.

So, this is my wish for my children:

• To be honest and capable individuals
• To have an open mind
• To love with no boundaries
• To have unwaivering faith
• To make a difference
• To never give up
• To be fair
• To know that they are loved
• To be a friend to all
• To be compassionate and empathetic
• To cherish each day as a gift
• To never forget that family is forever
• To dream big

It's not a complete list. I think the list is constantly evolving. As my children grow older, their needs and wants change and my needs and wants for them change, too. I certainly hope that my children will never have to face the same situation that Jade's boys are facing or that Natasha's boys are going through. But, should something happen (God forbid) I truly hope that my children realize that I will never be gone from them and that my memory will live forever in their hearts.

A princess turns 8 today!

In May 2000, I graduated from college and had landed my first "real" job with a county government office in a locality not too far from home. I loved my job and I was very excited to start my "adult life." However, in June of that same year, I found out that I was pregnant. I was 22 years old, unmarried (although Adam & I had been together, at that time, for nearly 6 years) and very much determined to make the best of the unexpected gift that was given to me.

Fast forward to March 12, 2001 -- the day I gave birth to our daughter, Malia. It was on that day that I truly learned what love was. She and I had formed a bond the moment I found out I was pregnant with her, but that bond took on a new strength & meaning when she entered into this world. Adam and I were truly blessed to have such a wonderful little girl brought into our lives.

Malia is my heart & soul. She is the exact spitting image of me -- looks, sass, wit, attitude, smarts (*wink, wink*) -- and my life has become all the better because she is my daughter. Adam and I love her so very much. She's our girl...our sometimes goofy, a little bit spoiled, very smart & sassy girl. Malia is such a wonderful big sister to her brother, Aidan, and she is - without a doubt - the best granddaughter our parents could have asked for. She is truly a special little girl and she is loved more than she'll ever know.

Happy 8th birthday, sweet girl!

This was about a month before Malia was born -- I ate many blueberry pancakes when I was pregnant with her...how funny is it that Malia absolutely despises blueberries?!

At only 5 days old she already had an inquisitive look about her...

Drama, drama, drama...who knew her very first birthday cake would have an effect like this? Maybe it's because she never liked being a messy baby...this picture just screams, "No, Mom...don't take any pictures of me like this!"

Not even 2 years old and playing in the snow (a very rare event for Virginia Beach) -- and already looking stylish with her fleece-cuffed jeans and hot pink puffer jacket.

Always a ham for the camera...she got that from Mommy!

Oh, how I miss that bald head of Malia's...it took nearly two years for her hair to start coming in.

The proud big sister -- exactly 27 months older than her brother -- and look at those curls! She did so well transitioning from being the only child to becoming the big sis (and to this day her brother hardly ever calls her by her name...to him, she's always been "sis").

Malia was never far from her "yellow blankie." And, even with us reeling in the clean up & after effects from Hurricane Isabel, Malia was prepared for anything -- blanket in one hand, a dress in the other, and a clean pair of "unnawears" on her head.

Three years old and so much fun!

Four years old and such a big girl!

Ah, the family that coordinates...we were a hit at that wedding! And, Malia was the life of the party.

Five years old and, yes, Mummy does love her!

Six years old and ready for the first grade! It still amazes me that she's no longer the sassy bald headed baby who was saying, "Wassat? (what's that)" at 6 months old and walking at 9 months old. Where has the time gone?

Seven years old and so pretty in pink!

Malia -- my "mini me"

Malia - this morning - it is school picture day & her birthday...what a day! She's so sweet, stylish & smart. She's growing up too fast for my liking (but don't all kids do that?!), but she's my love & I am so proud of the wonderful young girl she's become.

Somebody call the plumber!

Let me preface this story by saying that potty training my son was an ordeal. We switched from regular diapers to cloth diapers around the time he was two in hopes that it might ease the transition and make potty training easier (and, aside from the $$$ start up fees, cloth diapering WAS indeed cheaper than buying disposables). He did well and peeing in the potty became a breeze; however, pooping in the potty was a different story. Let's just say that I had heard all the stories about children holding "it" in and how potty training can sort of "mess" with their feelings of control and security -- yeah, we had THOSE issues. Aidan was not about to poop in the potty...it was his poop after all and no one elses. ANYWAY, after battling for many, many months we finally leaped that hurdle...only to realize that he refused to learn and even try to wipe his own hiney. His reason (and I quote), "I don't want to get poop on my fingers." Gee...thanks...and you think I do? So, here we are, FINALLY at the stage where he wipes his own butt (thank goodness for flushable wipes!) although I still have to spray Shout on the skid marks that are in his Transformer "unnawears"...

Bedtime is at 8:30pm sharp in our house during the school week (Sunday through Thursday) and during the week WITHOUT FAIL either one of the kids is gonna have to go poop right before bedtime. It always happens. Tonight, it was Aidan's turn. OK, no big deal. Poop happens. He'll wipe his own butt and wash his hands when he's finished.

Adam and I were on the couch watching last night's "Top Chef" when Aidan came out of the bathroom to apologize to me for using too much toilet paper.

"Mommy...uh...I forgot and I used too much toilet paper."

"How much is too much?"

"Uh...a whole bunch. A big ball of it. I flooded the bathroom...but I wiped my own butt!"

"You did WHAT?"

"I wiped my own butt!"

"No, no...after you wiped your butt...what's wrong in the bathroom?"

I shot Adam a look.

By this time, Malia ran to the bathroom...I mean, come on, she's not going to pass up the chance to witness something that her brother has done whether it's right or wrong...siblings LIVE for this kind of stuff!

Adam finally gets up off the couch and I'm hot on his heels.

Sure enough, water is swirling dangerously close to the rim of the toilet bowl and there is a big ole wad of T.P. stuck in the toilet. A whole lot of T.P. So much T.P. that I was surprised there was even any left on the roll. Immediately, Aidan chimes, "Don't worry, I'll go get the plunger!"

Oh, geez...here we go, I thought.

After being side-tracked in the living room by a television commercial and a trip back to the bathroom to watch the water swirl in the toilet, he comes back to the bathroom with the plunger (pretty sad that our kids know where to find the plunger, huh...in MY bathroom...don't ask). Adam plunges the toilet a couple times to dislodge the big BALL of toilet paper, I wipe off the seat and Aidan proclaims, "See, it's all fixed now!"

*sigh*

KIDS.

I would so totally take skid marked "unnawears" over a clogged toilet any day (this just made me have flashbacks of the day at work when my daughter clogged the office toilet and there were little turds regurgitating out of the toilet.....but that's a different blog).

Ridiculous

Since I'm home today with sick kids...well, one who is legitimately sick and one who is isn't really...I took the initiative to get the laundry caught up and get all of the folded clothes put away. This may not seem like a big deal to some, but for those who know me or for those who are exactly like me, then you know that it's not the process of washing clothes that bothers me -- it's the act of folding the clean clothes and putting them away that I don't find entertaining.

So...

All washed clothes has been folded and put away except for my husband's pile because I r-e-f-u-s-e to do it. I feel that putting away his clean laundry is the least he can do. So far, he's got two piles of clean laundry in the bedroom and both are about 2.5' high. Yeah. It's sad.

Anyway...

Earlier this morning I cleaned out my daughter's dresser drawers. Currently, I have two bags full of clothing that I'm hoping to pass along to a friend tonight...I just hope his daughter (who is a year younger than mine) can fit into the clothes. Upon cleaning Malia's dresser drawers, I learned that she has enough clean underwear to last about two months. Yeah. That's a lot of panties. She is also set for the remainder of the winter and should not have any problems once we transition into spring & summer. The girl has clothes...tons of clothes! (I suppose that's my fault, but that's not the point of this blog entry...)

I haven't had the motivation (yet) to get into my son's dresser drawers. I know he's pretty well stocked as far as clothing is concerned. I just don't feel like going into his room to mess with the dresser -- there's only but so much laundry I can take in one day!

With that said, I do have a ginormous pile of boys clothing that I've been needing to list on eBay. I have found that I do better reselling his clothing than I do my daughter's clothing...probably because he's been growing faster than she has been lately...who knows. All I know is that I'm glad that the laundry is pretty much caught up for the moment and that all folded laundry has been put away (or sorta put away in my husband's case).

Now I just need to find the motivation to get dressed and venture out with the kids to the grocery store.......ugh.

It's a home day, but not by choice -

I'm at home today.

I should be working.

I really should be working. However, even though I am afforded the luxury of bringing my children to work with me from time to time, well, let me just say that having kids under foot in the office is not fun whether they are sick or not. Malia stuck it out yesterday -- thank goodness for the sleeping bag, pillow & DVD player that I keep stashed in my office. However, I was fortunate enough to not have to deal with any vomitting spells at the office...she waited until we got home. *sigh*

So, here I am at 8:50am sitting at the computer wondering what the heck I'm going to do today because very rarely am I home during the week. I really don't like missing work (contrary to what some might believe). I suppose today is as good a day as any to just clean. Really clean. Put things away, dust things, fold things, vacuum things, mop things kind of clean.

Yuck.

Just the thought of all that cleaning is making ME feel sick. ;)

The vomit monster has reared it's ugly head -

First of all, let me start off by saying that hearing your child puke up corned beef & cabbage at 10:30pm on a Sunday night is NOT a fun way to end the weekend...especially when that particular child actually enjoyed eating corned beef & cabbage and will probably never, ever touch the stuff again.

Second of all, I would like to say that the sight & scent was awful. Pure awful.

Third of all, the wretched stomach bug appears to have paid our family a visit and it is my hope that any more bodily expulsions are few and far between and are not inflicted upon anyone else in this household. I can handle one puking child, but having two at the same time isn't fun...been there, done that.

Where's my can of Lysol?

Desperately seeking summer...

I am over the cold weather.
I am over the colds.
I am over wearing a jacket & wool socks.
I am over the dry skin & runny noses.
I am over cranking up the heat.
I am over my gas bill.
I am over warming up my car.
I am over the howling winds.
I am over the wishy-washy weather forecasts.
I am over it being dark by the time I'm home from work.


I am ready for some warmth of a different kind.
I am ready for road trips to Hatteras.
I am ready for barbeques & horseshoes.
I am ready for humidity (I think).
I am ready for long, summer nights
I am ready for flip flops & pedicured toes.
I am ready for fireflies.
I am ready for sleeping with the windows open.
I am ready for tulips & daisies.
I am ready for seashells & sand.


I am desperately seeking summer.

Snow Day! (Take 3)

There's snow on the ground today. Really. There is SNOW on the ground in Hampton Roads.

S-N-O-W

Of course, by the time I walked out of my house this morning to warm up the car, it was already melting and falling out of the pine trees. I was being pelted in the head by melting snow. Not fun.

But, anyway...

There's snow in southeastern Virginia and it's about damn time. Of course, it's nothing to warrant any closings in our area (which is a big surprise), but it's still exciting nonetheless considering this is the third time we've been told we would get some snow and, finally, the weather forecasters were right.

What I find to be most amusing is the fact that today is a school make-up day for my children. They are making up the snowless snow day from last month...and there's actually snow on the ground today. Go figure.

I'll take one vacation...hold the kids, please!

Adam and I go on vacation together every year. It's only one week out of the year, but it's OUR week. The week belongs to no one else. It's a time for the two of us to reconnect and rekindle our romance. We get to relax, enjoy each other's company and forget about the stress that comes with working, owning a home, being a parent, etc. We truly enjoy getting away -- just the two of us -- and we both feel that it does wonders for our relationship and our marriage.

Do I feel guilty for leaving the kids to take a week's vacation with my husband? No.

Should I feel guilty for leaving the kids to take a week's vacation with my husband? No.

I love my children, but I also love having that time for myself and the hubby. Trust me, if you work for your husband (as I do) you need all the reconnecting and rekindling you can get!

Her only love sprung from her only hate...

We eat in front of the television from time to time (but that's a topic for a different time) and tonight we ate our tortellini while watching Animal Planet. Tonight's feature was "Romeo & Juliet: A Monkey's Tale."

Picture courtesy of DVDtalk

First of all, I couldn't imagine living in that area of Thailand and having to deal with all of those monkeys! Second of all, the monkeys pick your pockets and steal food right out of your hands! Third of all, did I mention all of the monkeys?

Anyway, the whole point of the one-hour long show was basically a very simplified re-telling of William Shakespeare's "Romeo & Juliet" but from the viewpoint of two love-struck monkeys from dueling monkey groups -- one group (Juliet's family) lived at the ancient temple, the Temple Troupe, and the other (Romeo's family) lived on the streets, the Market Gang or whatever they were called (my memory is shot).

It was a very cute movie -- the kids giggled and couldn't believe how naughty the street monkeys were. Bottom line is that this movie was a love story. Malia "ooohed" and "aaahed" the whole time she watched. Aidan kept laughing and tried to mimick as many monkey moves as he could (there were monkeys shaking light posts and hanging off of wires!). The ending was happy, the movie was short and sweet (only an hour...with commercials) and the kids were exposed to another culutre in another country. All good things in my book.


Now, I should warn you that if your kids are as keen as mine are, don't be surprised to hear comments about monkey butts or, even worse, monkey parts. I honestly did not know what to say, think or do when my daughter said that one of the monkey's looked like he had a brain between his legs (Were they testicles? I don't know...my guess is yes, but I was more concerned with trying NOT to choke on my pasta).

Gassy Gus

My sister and brother-in-law gave the kids a game for Christmas. It's a real hit in our family. Adam and Malia are playing right now and all I hear from the living room is nothing but laughter (well, and Anthony Bourdain, but he's on the T.V. and NOT in my living room playing the game).

What are they playing?

Yes, you read right -- Gassy Gus. Everyone is dealt food cards and you basically "feed" Gus and pump up his gut until he farts, uh, bursts. It's really not as gross as it seems...it's actually quite fun and produces more giggles than flatulence in our household. :)

If you really think you're wearing those today --

-- then you've got it all wrong.


I said that today to my 7 year old. Well, not those exact words, but the point was still the same.


We were standing on the front porch this morning waiting on the school bus when I looked down at her feet and saw these:

Photo courtesy of Payless Shoes

Now, had it been, oh, I don't know in the 60s or 70s today I would have let her gotten away with wearing them to school. Or, if she had on tights today I would have let her wear them. BUT, none of that was the case this morning. In fact, we were outside, standing in the cold, 20 degree (with that wind chill factor) weather and it was drizzling rain. She was in jeans, a long-sleeved t-shirt, a hoodie AND had a 3-in-1 jacket on with the hood up and had gloves on...and she had those blasted open toe dress shoes on.

Seriously. I don't care that we live in Virginia Beach where people (including myself) wear flip-flops all year long. I made her go inside and change the shoes -- I mean, she had her sneakers and a pair of socks stashed in her bookbag anyway for P.E. She threw a fit. I think she even shed a tear or two. Big deal. I'm sorry, but you are not grown. You are seven. I realize that you want to be fashionable and look cute, but you're in the 2nd grade. It's also not summertime, picture day, dress up day, etc. You will abide by my rules and that includes what you will and will not wear on your feet when it's fuh-fuh-fuh-reezing outside. So there.

Jon & Kate...fake?

I'll admit it...I watch Jon & Kate Plus 8. I've skimmed through their website. I own the Kate calendar (Em Tanner Designs rocks!). I guess you could say that I'm hooked on their show. I'm a curious person by nature (aren't we all?) and I'm not ashamed to admit that I do enjoy the voyeuristic look into their day-to-day lives. However, now that the show has been on for a few seasons, the kids are older and the family has sky rocketed into quasi-rockstar status, I'm just not so sure about it all anymore.

I don't remember what made me Google the Gosselins. Oh, wait. I do. It was a link from their book's page over at Amazon.com that piqued my interest:
http://www.amazon.com/Multiple-Blessings-Surviving-Thriving-Sextuplets/dp/0310289025

If you scroll down to the customer discussion section there is a forum-like area where, I guess, people can discuss the book, the television show, etc. From there, I came across some information about a few blogs that are out in cyberspace and I checked out a few:

• http://kateisashrew.blogspot.com/
• http://truthbreedshatred.blogspot.com/
• http://gosselinswithoutpity.blogspot.com/

There are numerous articles out there, too, and I found this one to be most interesting:
Jon & Kate Plus 8 Vs. Aunt Jody - a Family Member Finally Speaks Up

I don't know what to think now. Well, I do. But, I don't at the same time. The television show is like a train wreck -- you just keep watching...over and over again. Heck, my DVR records the show (first-runs only...ha ha ha) every Monday night at 9pm. Part of the reason I like watching it is because, like it or not, the TV show does portray certain traits that I feel that most all families can relate to...the house isn't always clean, there is chaos, siblings fight, mom & dad bicker, husband & wife disagreements, inconsistencies between parenting styles, discipline issues, etc. And, while I think that Kate can be overbearing and quite neurotic at times, I do see some of myself in her because -- scary to think -- perhaps she and I share some similar personality traits. Of course, I do see some of my husband in Jon, too. I guess what I'm saying is that I can understand and relate to certain aspects of the show and that's why I like to watch. It makes me feel as if I'm not alone in how I feel as a wife & mother -- when in all actuality, I know I'm not.

But, on the flip side, I'll admit -- I'm always catching myself thinking:

"Wow, it must be really nice to outfit all eight children in nothing but Gap or Gymboree clothing."
or
"Hmm, if THEY can go to and afford Disney then we can, too."
or
"Holy moly, they just spent HOW MUCH on certified organic meat?"
or
"Gee...tummy tuck, hair plugs, ski trip, vow renewal in Hawaii, Oprah, magazine covers, NYC trips, Disney, OBX vacay......."

A twinge of jealousy? Perhaps. I think it's human nature to be even slightly jealous. However, I also know that there's no way in hell they would STILL be doing a show for TLC if they weren't getting paid! That's right, $$$. We're talking benjamins, grips, G's -- cold, hard cash. Must be nice. All good things come to an end, though, or at least that's how the saying goes. So, when is the end? When will it all be enough? As much as I love the show, it's getting to be, in my opinion, too much.

Last night, I caught up on the last few episodes. I don't know if it's because my opinon has been swayed slightly from reading the other blogs online, but it's like I don't give a damn anymore. It's not about being jealous, it's not about envy (because like Jack Johnson sings, "we've got everything we need right here and everything we need is enough.")...I just think that enough is enough already. While I don't find the family to truly be "fake", I do think that it's time to let the kids grow up be "normal" kids. The six little ones don't even know what it's like to live day to day without a camera in their face...am I wrong or am I right? It's time to stop exploiting their young lives to fulfill a lifestyle that many of us can only dream about. The show isn't about parenting or the journey from two kids to eight kids anymore. It's about greed, wealth and lifestyle changes...changes that aren't necessarily all for the good.