Joshy's own song lyrics...Post #1

"Go tell it on the mountain, over the hills and everywhere! Go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ is BORED!"

Pardon Me, That Was My Shoe Farting...

Everyone has their favorite pair of comfortable shoes. My favorites to wear to work were a sensible pair of black Clarkes that my mom had given me. I loved them so much that I wore the soles right off of them – seriously…for several days last week I couldn’t figure out what this “clicking” sound was when I walked. My husband grabbed my shoe and turned it over so I could see the bottom. “Hello???” he laughed, “Don’t you ever look at the bottom of your shoes??” There, to my dismay, was the culprit of the clicking…a ginormous hole in the bottom of my right shoe, and all of the metal “guts” of the shoe exposed. Bummer.

So I broke down and headed to Macy’s to find a new pair. After trying on a few choices, I settled on another pair of cute but comfortable, sensible (and not cheap!) Franco Sartos. I’m not trying to win a beauty contest with these shoes or anything, but I want something that can look good with dress pants or jeans and that are comfortable enough to wear every day in the pouring down Portland rain during the fall and winter months. I found this pair fast and was excited to wear them and not have to listen to the clicking…

What could be worse than clicking shoes, you might ask? Farting shoes. Yes, people, apparently it is a widespread problem. I wore my new shoes for the first time yesterday and to my horror the left shoe expressed its, er, flatulence, LOUDLY, with every single step I took. Holy crap, this was embarrassing. Forced to explain my situation to every passerby I found myself saying, “Do you hear that?” (like they couldn’t) “That’s my shoe, I swear.”

I took off the shoe, tried stretching out the top, thought maybe it was because the leather wasn’t broken in yet. Nothing seemed to help.

I hit the internet to find a solution. Just so you know, there are entire web forums dedicated to farting shoes and what to do about them. It seems to be a very common occurrence – in fact, everyone I talked to about my “problem” yesterday said they had at least one pair of farting shoes. Nice. Comforting to know I am not alone. Some people even resort to throwing their farting shoes away! (If you really care, I solved the problem by putting on socks today…voila! No more noises! Although this kind of misses the whole point of having expensive buttery leather next to my feet…)

So…moral of the story: it happens to many, so you need not hang your head in shame. If the shoe farts, wear it.

Katie-isms - Post #4

Out of the blue the other day, Katie asks her grandmother, "Nonnie? Would you ever eat bull balls?"

That's our girl!

Panda Express

Snuggled under the covers in bed last night, I was reading my nightly three books to Joshua when I began reading a familiar one we had looked at together the night before about panda bears.

“Oh, here’s the panda book, Joshy,” I said as he nodded with a huge smile on his face. This kid loves animals – any and all animals – and he loves to learn facts about different creatures so we spend a lot of time discussing where animals live, what they eat, what sounds they make, etc. I read the first couple of pages about our panda friend and decided to ask Josh a couple of things about what he already knew about pandas.

“Joshy,” I turned to him, “do you remember where pandas live?”

“Panda lives in China,” he answers, matter-of-factly.

I beam at my three-year-old’s amazing wisdom. He is, I'm sure, the smartest child on the face of this earth. “You’re right! Pandas live in China!” I turn the page and see Mr. panda chewing on the all-too-familiar stick of bamboo. “And what do pandas eat, babe? Do you remember?”

Joshy looks at me, eyes bright, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah!” He exclaims, “Panda eats Chinese food!”

Aw, my little pal…you always make me smile...

Happy Birthday Bubs!

This weekend we are celebrating our “baby’s” 3rd birthday. I am just feeling so thankful for my little guy I feel the need to write about him. Our older two children were born so close together (14 months apart) and in a way I feel like I didn’t get to enjoy them one-on-one as babies, because they really were both babies at the same time! As they got older, I had that gnawing feeling that I just wasn’t done yet – it sounds weird, but I just knew there was somebody missing from our family. I told my husband that I really felt we were supposed to have another boy named Josh…I know, weird, right? After finally talking him into the idea we decided to give it a go…and what do you know, we had a boy and named him Joshua.:)

The first thing I remember about Joshy was the way he was so alert and looking around the room with wonder from the moment the nurse handed him to me in the hospital. He wasn’t crying…it was like he was just in awe of his surroundings. He looked all around and then his eyes met mine. “Well, there you are,” I told him. “I knew you were supposed to be here.” At that moment, our family finally felt complete…there was no question in my mind. I am done now, I thought, my family is all here. What peace that feeling is, I really can’t describe it.

Every day for the last three years I have been so thankful for my littlest pal. “Thankful” doesn’t even seem like an adequate word to use. I joke that he keeps me young…because there is nothing I love more than to just hang out and be silly with him. Joshy loves animals, especially elephants, and we visit the zoo together at least twice a month. He is a natural entertainer and puts on shows where he sings his heart out and then immediately asks his audience for applause. Josh is always caring about others and when he sees someone always asks how they are doing or how their dog is doing. He makes me belly-laugh every day. His favorite musical artists are Lady Gaga and Johnny Cash. Seriously. He asks me to play “Poker Face” and then “Ring of Fire” on the IPod every single day…then spends the rest of the day calling me “Mama Poker-face, Mamamama” and singing into his microphone “…and it burns, burns, burns…the ring of fire…the ring of fire.” Did I mention he makes me belly-laugh every single day?

So, to God I say thank you. Thank you for giving me this amazing little human being to take care of. To Joshy, I say thank you for being my little Bubba, my sweet friend, for changing me in ways I didn’t know I needed to be changed, for making me laugh, for fish-kisses and head-butts, for your big squeezing hugs and for loving me and making me feel important always. Happy Birthday, my big three-year-old boy. I knew you were supposed to be here.

Dear Grandma

This week marks the year anniversary of my Grandma being "Promoted to Glory." So much has happened in the past year - both good and bad - in a way it seems hard to believe it's been a year already, but in another way it seems like a lifetime ago. I thought it would be fitting to post the letter I wrote to her for her memorial service last year. I really miss her, but know I will see her again someday:)

May 2009

Dear Grandma,

We love you and we all miss you so much already. I struggled with how to begin this tribute and then it occurred to me…I needed to just write you a letter and thank you for everything you did for us and everything we learned from you as your grandchildren.

Thank you for showing us love and the importance of family.

Thank you for being such a strong woman, and raising your daughters to be such strong women, so they could raise us to be strong individuals.

Thank you for making the most fabulous marionberry pie, raspberry jam, and creamed onions that anyone could ever make. No matter how hard we will try, we know that our versions will pale in comparison.

Thank you for taking care of us on days that we were home sick from school and for bringing things over to share with us on those days to get our minds off feeling so bad.

Thank you for Saturday hamburger night.

Thank you for teaching us that everything and anything could be fixed with the help of the tattered, little red screwdriver kept in the kitchen drawer…and I mean anything.

Thank you for all of the music programs, graduations, birthday parties and other events you attended for every single one of us.

Thank you for all the years we attended the “Ladies and Lassies” brunch together for Mother’s Day at Temple. Mother’s Day is definitely going to be different this year.

Thank you for always having homemade cookies and for always giving us a baggie of them for the long ride home from Black Butte.

Speaking of Black Butte, thank you for teaching us patience by serving us just one pancake at a time for breakfast.

Thank you for teaching us the ABC’s by way of the spice wallpaper in the kitchen…”C” is for Coriander, Cumin, Celery Salt…

Thank you for having us over for sleepovers when we were kids and waking us up by saying “well don’t YOU have a good in America” if we slept in late.

Thank you for always walking us out when we’d leave your house. Whether it was walking us to our car and waving until we were no longer in sight…or later on, walking us to the elevator in your apartment. That made an impression on me. I loved you so much for that.

Thank you for our late-night phone conversations after I was an adult. If I felt like talking to someone at 11:00 at night, I always knew you would be up to answer the call.

Thank you for teaching us to love the Lord and to look to Him for strength. I am especially thankful for that this week as we all look to Him for peace.

I know I speak for all of the grandkids when I say I feel so blessed to have known you for my whole life. My life was better because of you, because of the love you gave us and for the lessons you taught us. Thank you, for showing us we had “a good in America”…

Love, Kristin

"Katie-isms" - Post #3

In my car, Katie points to a weird little button next to the dashboard.

"What is that button for, Mom?" she asks.

"I actually have no idea," I admit.

She looks at me with knowing smile and says matter-of-factly, "I think it's for a parachute."

"Katie-isms" - Post #2

Sitting around the house last weekend, Katie suddenly asks my husband,

"Dad, did you have a skateboard when you were younger?"

"Nope, I didn't," he responded.

"Oh," Katie replied a little sadly, as if she felt sorry for him. "Had they not invented skateboards yet back when you were a kid?"

"Katie-isms" Post #1

My daughter, age 8, is the queen of saying random things that crack me up. Sometimes you just have to wonder where she comes up with the stuff she thinks of. So, in honor of Miss Kate, I have decided to start a new topic for my blog where all of her randomness can just bask in all its glory...I like to call these "Katie-isms"

Yesterday, while riding in the car, Katie asks me from the backseat, "Mom, if just your HAND got ran over by a car, would you be dead?"

Bewildered, I answered, "Um, no...probably not. Why?"

She shakes her head, as if trying to erase the image in her mind and shrugs,
"Just wondering."

You can't make me like it - Entry #2

Since my last entry of this same title, I have actually thought of about 47 things I don't like that everyone else on the planet seems to love. Every time I think of one, I think I should write it down so I remember...but I never do, so I forget most of them. Here are the ones that I remember for now...

1. Yoga - I've tried it. Hate it. Too boring. I need action! Excitement! Kick-ass tunes! In case you hadn't heard, yoga has none of these.

2. Meat with any kind of fruit sauce - I'm not even a big meat-eater, but in the past few years have started eating some poultry and fish again after a long hiatus from eating anything with a face. Sorry - but any kind of fruit "glaze" on meat...whether it is raspberry-glazed salmon or apricot-glazed chicken...is just nasty. Meat alone or with a savory sauce = good. Meat with fruity, froo-froo, sweet, girly-sauce = gross, according to the tenspot.

3. Exercising - yes, I go to the gym regularly, but it is out of necessity because I swear I was not born with any sort of metabolism. I don't think I will ever do it because I LOVE it. I've tried, but let's face it, it sucks.

4. Mechanical pencils - You can never get anything done because the lead continually breaks off. You spend the entire time clicking out new lead! I need power and strength behind my writing, not fragile little pieces of annoyance.

5. Recycling, saving the planet, and living all "green" - Hey, don't get me wrong, I love our planet and know our earth is amazing, but the word "sustainability" drives me batty because it is so overused...and I kind of miss the days when we didn't have to wash our garbage. (I fully know I'm going to get hammered for this one - take it easy, people...this is all in fun:)

6. Electronic calendars - I'll admit, I am old-school when it comes to my scheduling habits. I still have one of those old flip-a-week calendars on my desk that I can actually WRITE on. I know, I know, we are in the age of technology and I do get appointment requests via Outlook, but due to my own unwillingness to change I still have to write it down.

7. Running/Jogging - again, I have tried to like it. Have you noticed that runners all look like they are in PAIN?

8. Bumper stickers - Living in the Northwest, you would think there is some sort of law that each person have as many bumper stickers as possible on the back of their car to express their "views." The good thing is, they help me identify idiots on the road.

9. Calling my husband my "hubby" or calling kindergarten "kindy" - these are two really annoying, supposed-to-be-cute words you will never hear me say or write. Oh wait, I just wrote them. CURSES!

10. Gardening - I don't do outside chores and I can't keep plants alive. I have what I like to call a "black thumb." In fact, when I left for college my parents gave me a fake cactus for my dorm room. Yes, a FAKE cactus. They didn't even think I could keep a cactus alive! (Which for the record, I can't...and I couldn't keep my pet turtle alive either.)

Potty Mouth!

My youngest son, Josh, has turned into a total potty-mouth. (Not sure WHERE he gets it - no, seriously!) Anyway, he is 2-1/2, so everything about stinky things, or poop, or butts, etc is funny to him. He sings songs about poop, calls people "stinky-piggy-go-to-the-market-head," wiggles his tush and shouts, "butt-crack! butt-crack!" and generally has a full-on potty mouth. Yesterday my father-in-law accidentally bumped into him and Joshy told him to "watch out, fart-knocker!"

I probably should wash his little mouth out with soap or something...but as I mentioned, he is 2-1/2...so I keep thinking if I just ignore it he will stop eventually because it's not fun anymore. The bad part is, it's hard to keep a straight face and not burst out laughing when he says something he isn't supposed to. Because, after all, he is just so darn cute. Even when he calls me a stinky-piggy-go-to-the-market-head:)

Aliens

Katie had her parent/teacher conferences this week and at this time of year the students do a self-evaluation and actually lead the conference themselves. It is a time for the kids to shine, and shine they do. During part of the conference, my daughter was showing us a sheet where she was told to reflect on her own work ethic and mark how strong she thought she was in each of the study skill areas. I noticed that she had ranked herself “Very Strong” in almost all of the categories which included things like “ability to focus and concentrate in class,” “ability to work independently,” and “ability to keep on-task” …things of that nature. Then I happened to notice a drawing off to the side, in the right-hand margin of her page.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to the creatures drawn on the side of her work.
She answered nonchalantly, “Oh that? Those are aliens. I drew them 'cuz I got bored.”

Have you seen this guy??

He was riding down the street on his crazy ellipti-bike contraption - (going to work apparently because he had his business attire on and a briefcase-sort-of-thing strapped to his body) and I almost crashed my car into the curb laughing so hard as I passed him.

Oh for the love of pete, thanks for the laugh, man - I needed that.

X-rated X-ercise

Yep, here we go - another story about the crazies at the gym. I think I'll make a new category for these stories...every time I go something weird happens. Okay - so, remind me never to go to the Tuesday night spinning class with, let's call him "Maurice." (I apologize in advance if your name is Maurice, I just thought it went well with the nickname I gave him at the end of the night...) Anyhoo, I've been to spinning quite a few times but I had never been to one of Maurice's spin classes before because I usually do turbo kick-boxing on Tuesdays...

So...back to climbing onto my bike for spin class. The first thing I notice is that this instructor does not play the normal get-your-sweat-on music that the "normal" instructors play for the workout. Maurice is playing some kind of alternative/disco-combined-with-show-tunes music that I have never heard. I don't like it already. The next thing I notice is that instead of being on his bike in the front of the class to lead the workout, he is walking around watching everyone...as if he is critiquing our cycling technique or something. That bugged me as well but I would have preferred THAT to what I was completely caught off guard with when he did climb onto his bike and began cycling along with us...

We were cooking along at a steady pace and a pretty difficult level of resistance, trying to get on the beat of the crazy music he was playing, when suddenly our instructor begins MOANING and breathing so heavily into his microphone...it honestly sounded as if he was making sweet love to his bike - I am not kidding. In between the heavy breathing he sounded as if he was "dirty talking" to the class..."Just a little bit further...a little bit further...don't let me down...YOU CAN DO IT." Then, as if that wasn't distracting enough, the guy on the bike next to me started moaning loud too and CRYING OUT as if...well, you get the picture. I started looking around at the other 30 or so people in class...could they hear this?? Are you freakin kidding me? Seriously, am I on Candid Camera???

Well, the hidden camera crew never did appear and the x-rated sounds of "Moaning Maurice" and the crazy dude next to me continued for 30 minutes (yes, I was watching the clock). I couldn't handle it anymore. I was so disturbed that I jumped off my bike, grabbed my water bottle and left the class as quickly as I could, a whole half-an-hour early. Fortunately my face was already red from the workout so no one could see my flushed embarrassment.

I totally need to stick with kick-boxing on Tuesdays..."hard core" cycling is just not my thing. ;)

My funny little pal

My youngest son, Joshua - age 2-1/2, cracks me up constantly, all day long. The kid is a HOOT, a natural comedian without even trying. The last couple of days have been no exception.

On Sunday we went to church and it was his first time to Sunday School in his "big boy pants"...no more diapers for my little man, (WOO HOOO!) Before we left the house I made a comment that I wanted to be sure and bring an extra pair of undies for him, just in case. He must have heard me say that because when I took him to the restroom at church later that morning, he had not one, but TWO pairs of underwear on under his jeans. Hey, I said he needed an extra pair, right? Apparently he thought he needed to WEAR the extra pair...:)

Yesterday I had the day off work so I took Josh to the zoo. On our way we stopped at Starbucks for coffee (for me) and hot chocolate (for him) and he picked out a little snack bag of nuts and dried fruit to eat in the car. I'm driving along and he is eating his snack, when suddenly he says, "Mommy! I have a strawberry in my nose!" I quickly adjusted the rear view mirror to look at him and sure enough, I can see he has lodged something in his left nostril. He is poking around at it and I say, "Joshy! Why did you stick something in your nose?! Don't touch it! Mommy will have to get it out when we stop the car!" All I could imagine was having to take this child to the ER with some sort of dried berry stuck in his nose (it turned out to be a dried blueberry, by the way, not a strawberry). He says, matter-of-factly, "I put it in my nose for the Oogie-Boogie Man." Um, okay...
Fortunately I was able to retrieve the fruit from his nose without a trip to urgent care.

At the end of our zoo trip, when we were back in the car I said, "I had fun with you at the zoo, Joshy...thank you so much for being my pal today."
Josh: "Huh?"
Me: "Thank you for being my pal today"
Josh: "Huh?"
Me: "Thank you for being my pal today"
Josh: "Huh?"
Me: "Thank you for being my BUDDY today."
Josh: "I'm not your buddy or your pal. I'm your baby."

Yes, yes you are, my love:)

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!