Put some clothes on!

I like to go to the gym in the mornings even though it doesn't happen very often (read my last post about my "normal" mornings)...but when I can, I prefer mornings because working out after work is just - well, exhausting. If I can get it done early I always feel better during the day and LOVE knowing that my workout is already done so when I am off work I can just go home and enjoy my little family or whatever fun activity I have planned.

That being said, there is something I really do NOT like about going to the gym in the mornings and getting ready for work with a group of women I do not know. Is it just me, or does anyone else find it absolutely freaking CRAZY when a perfect stranger arrives into your locker room mirror...standing right next to you in all of her naked glory?? And by "glory", I mean National Geographic boobs and un-landscaped nether-regions?

Today, for instance. I had just finished a great spinning workout - there is just something awesome about rocking out and getting all sweaty to some Lady Gaga at 5:30am people! Went to the locker room, took my shower, put my clothes on and ventured over to the lighted mirrors where everyone stands to dry and style their hair and put on makeup. "Oh good, there are enough mirrors that I can have my own today!" I think to myself. Begin drying hair...then move to makeup. So nice...quiet place to get ready. No kids yelling...get to move at my own pace...no rushing...relaxation is setting in...what a great morning...

(cue "Jaws" music, or the "RIE, RIE, RIE" slasher sound, or something else equally as horrifying)

For-the-love-of-all-that-is-holy. Here she comes...the woman who will haunt my thoughts for the rest of my day by sharing my mirror with me. Oh, she doesn't ASK to share my mirror. She just walks right up... in her (not at ALL attractive) nakedness, stands WAY to close to me, and begins putting lotion on her face and combing her hair. Um, HELLO??? Do you see me here? Did you forget a step? The part where you cover yourself? Perhaps you could put a bra on those bad-boys?

I try as I may, as hard as I can, not to look at her...but she is in MY mirror! And there was a mirror free down the way...but no, she is drawn to MY mirror for some reason. I try to keep my eyes averted but have a difficult time doing so. I mean, I'm short! and her "girls" are all up in my kitchen! And I don't even DARE look DOWN...are you kidding me? I don't want to know what kind of creature may be close to touching my jeans. Holy crap, I looked down. Ah! It's a bear! Am I being weird? I'm a girl - it shouldn't bother me that bad to see another woman naked - but hers is not a pretty sight...and she is SO CLOSE and all I can think about is not looking, so that just makes me look more.

I can't get my makeup on fast enough and while shoving all of my belongings into my gym bag, I clumsily try to unplug my hairdryer...reaching in front, as far in front as I can, of her...without touching those...er...things. I escape to the safety of the gym lobby and out to my car.

Scarred for life, barely alive, but still humming Lady Gaga.

Caution...Crazy Woman on the Loose!!!

If you ever see me first thing in the morning and wonder why I have a crazed look in my eyes or look like like I have already put in a full day, it's because I feel like I already have. My husband leaves for work (and always has) around 4 o'clock every morning...so, that leaves me with the three kids - ages 2 to 9 - by myself (and the dog, who is also super high-maintenance, so he might as well be called a kid) and it is up to ME (me? I'm still a kid too, right?) to get them all up, dressed, fed, watered, taken outside (the dog, not the kids), lunches packed, homework in backpacks, daycare bag packed with five changes of clothes for the potty-training kiddo...and mind you, this is AFTER I've spent an hour getting myself showered, dressed, hair done, makeup on, ready for work and dishes done from the night before...without being ONE minute late or I'll get caught behind the stupid bus that comes down our street.

We load in the car, take one kid to daycare and the two older kids to school and then I get to trade my "mommy" hat in for my "professional" hat for ten hours. Some days it is just too much. Some days I feel like running away from my house, screaming down the street in my bathrobe...but with my luck I'd get hit by that stupid bus.;)

Who is the parent and who is the child?

Saw the grossest, biggest, longest, fattest, crawliest, scrunchiest earthworm on the sidewalk today. "EEEEEEEEW," I totally grossed out as I almost accidentally stepped on the nasty thing. "Disgusting!!" I shriek.

"Mom," says Katie calmly, "worms are important, helpful creatures. They make our plants and soil healthy."

Thanks for the reminder, Kate.:)

King of Pop

I am a huge Michael Jackson fan. There, I said it. I don't know if I should categorize this blog under "confessions" or "random conversations with my kids"...maybe I will do both. Anyhoo - I own the Michael Jackson "Essential" Collection, which is basically a collection of all of his music, from the days of the Jackson Five, up through his latest recordings for the "This is It" movie. It is an amazing group of CDs with a TON of great music and I listen to it all the time in the car. My two older kids love it too and they know which songs are on what disks, so when we get in the car to head to school in the morning they take turns telling me which song they want to hear. Sometimes it is something from Michael's little boy days, sometimes it is from my growing up days - the 80's, and sometimes it is something more recent. The point is, there are a lot of choices and amazing variety.

So, in the car this morning, Zach's choice was "Billie Jean." He loves the beat. Soon after the song started though, Katie asked me to turn it down for a second so she could tell me something.

"I think I know why Michael Jackson had to take all those sleeping pills and why he died," Katie says seriously. "It's because he had so many songs stuck in his head!"

"Yeah," Zach agreed, solemnly. "He probably had a migraine."

My name is not Susan...

…Or Kristen, or Kristine, or Christian, or Kristie. It is Kristin. Say it with me...KRISTIN. I have absolutely no clue why my name is so hard for people to say and spell, but you would think I was named something completely CRAZY with two silent Q’s or something. Each and every day – several times a day, I am not kidding you – somebody calls me (or writes to me) by something other than my name. It’s not only that they don’t remember it’s an “In” instead of an “En” (and yes, I have definitely made matters worse since adopting this nickname “Ten” from my teen years…everyone is now thoroughly confused), but they add more letters, different letters, and completely wrong pronunciation! At one point in a meeting earlier this fall, a representative from a consulting firm proceeded to call me “Susan” throughout the entire meeting, no matter how many times I corrected him. Finally, at the end of the session, when he thanked me for my time and said, “It was really nice to meet you, Susan” I just smiled and nodded my head. Nice to meet you too, dillhole.

Happy Birthday to "My Tim"

Our youngest son, Josh (age 2-1/2), for some reason never calls my husband "Daddy"...he insists on calling him by his first name. Now, believe me - there is no doubt that this kid is his Daddy's boy...he is a spittin' image of the man, only pint-sized. But, alas, when he calls to him from across the house, it's, "TIM! C'MERE!" or when his Dad gets home he says, "Tim's home!" We don't really know why...and it doesn't seem to bother Tim all that much...or at least he doesn't let on that it bugs him.

So when Joshy found out it was Daddy's birthday today, he has been telling everyone all weekend that "It's my Tim's birthday!" It's been cracking me up for days, and Josh can't seem to figure out why I think it's so funny. After all, that's his NAME, isn't it?

So, to my husband...the coolest guy I know, my best friend, the one who chose me and loves me no matter what (and believe you me I'm not the easiest gal to live with), and the best "Daddy" to our children even when they choose not to call him that...Happy Birthday to MY Tim.:) Thanks for being born, Fishhead!

Shut your pie hole...

So, I'm in the dressing room of one of my favorite stores on Saturday (which will remain nameless, but sells A LOT of black and white clothing:) and this woman/girl/annoying idiot was in the dressing room next to me when a sales associate knocks on her door and asks if she is doing alright with the items she is trying on.

She answers in her totally tubular, best valley-girl accent "Um, well, this EXTRA small is just like, still too big. Do you have this in, like, an EXTRA EXTRA small?"

I heard this and then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, trying to stuff myself into a size I thought was appropriate. Without missing a beat, I turned toward the voice on the other side of the wall and promptly stuck out my tongue and flipped her the bird with both hands simultaneously.

Sometimes I may act like I'm 13 or so, but it felt good, even if she couldn't see me...:)

Bird is the word

This morning as we were leaving for school, the kids and I found a GYNORMOUS feather from some sort of bird on our front porch.

"What kind of bird do you think it's from??" we all wondered.

"I think it's from a hawk," Zach said matter-of-factly.

"I don't know, it's pretty big. Maybe it's from a pterodactyl!" I offered with a grin, to see what they would say.

"Mom," Zach retorted, rolling his eyes. "Pterodactyls don't have feathers."

Silly me.

You can't make me like it - Entry #1

Maybe hate is a strong word, but I have often thought about writing a book on this subject of the "stuff I hate that everyone else in the world seems to love." There are soooo many things in this world that people seem to LOVE with a passion that I just don't get. In fact, I have a strong DISLIKE for a lot of these things. This will be the first entry of many, I'm sure, because I seriously think of several items a day. Maybe I am odd, yes, but here are the ones I have thought of most recently:

1. Watching the Olympics. I know this sounds very unpatriotic, and I'm honestly not...I just don't enjoy watching Olympic sports on TV. Especially WINTER Olympics. Ice skating, skiing, snowboarding... I just don't get it. Which brings me to the next item on my list...

2. Participating in outdoor sports that require cold weather and/or snow. I would rather put a fork in my eye (actually I'd rather be laying on a sandy beach sipping a pina colada), than even try any of the above activities. Sounds HORRIBLE to me. Horrible. You might call me lazy. I call myself recreationally selective.

3. Drinking cocktails while watching a movie. There are all sorts of venues around town that offer the "luxury" of being able to have a beer in a movie theater. I don't get it and I don't like it. If I'm going to have cocktails, I want to be able to chat with friends...if I'm watching a movie, helloooo...there can be no chatting! What genius thought of this concept?

4. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Bare Naked Ladies, and Beyonce. I don't like this music. I don't even want to talk about it actually...just the thought of some of these songs makes me throw up in my mouth a little.

5. Heelies. Every time a kid goes flying by me in the grocery store or runs into me in the mall on those stupid little shoes with wheels, I have a secret daydream of seeing them wipe out.

6. Camping. I'm okay for like, a night...but then I need a bed and a shower. I don't like the dirt, or the lack of bathrooms, or the lack of good sleep that comes with being outside in the cold at night. "Roughing it" to me is a two-star hotel.

7. Chicken Wings. Um, two words: fat and tendons. That's all they are. Not to mention I don't eat anything off a bone. How about a nice basket of spicy fat, skin and tendons to dip in your blue cheese dressing? Disgusting!

8. Hiking. I am always convinced there is a cougar getting ready to pounce around the next corner. That, and there are always bees.

Do as I say, not as I do - Example #1

We all have these moments as parents (I hope more people do than just me!) where we say something and then our kids repeat it...or have something to say about what we just said...and then we (sort of) regret saying it.

First case scenerio: We are doing "MadLibs" in the car tonight.

Katie, age (almost) 8, says, "Mom, what is a plural noun?"

Me: "Well, a noun is a person, place or thing. And a plural noun is, like, more than one of those. So, instead of a "butt" it would be "butts." I giggle. (Am I five years old?)

My son, Zach, age 9, in a disgusted voice says, "Mom, that was inappropriate."

Geez, tough crowd.

Don't worry, there will be a lot more of these...I tend to have a potty mouth. Good thing my kids are there to keep me in line.

"Don't take life too seriously - no one gets out alive anyway"...(author unknown)

I have seriously been thinking about starting a blog for years. However "thinking" about starting a blog and actually doing it are very different. (I know! Shocking!) I would decide on it and then...another 6 months goes by...I still haven't created it, I still haven't documented all of those silly stories about my family, funny quotes from my kids, or random thoughts I get while driving down the road...well, that all ends now. I've gone and done it. I hope to make this a place - not necessarily for anything too deep - but instead a place of fun, humor and total randomness (is that even a word?) It feels like everyone is much too serious these days. and I don't know about you, but I could use a few more laugh lines. Stay tuned!