I Love Wednesdays!

It's been a rough couple of days around here. Aiden got sick on Sunday night and I got his bug on Monday, so I was down for about 24 hours. Upon returning from a meeting Monday night, my husband decided his shoulder pain could possibly be related to heart trouble, so he drove himself to the emergency room. I was too sick to take him, and although I tried to get him to call his brother to take him, he insisted on driving himself.

Anyhow, he spent the night in the hospital Monday night. He said he couldn't sleep for 2 reasons: (1) the compressor on the mini fridge in his hospital room kept cutting off and on all night and (2) the nurses kept coming to draw blood at all hours. He was offered a CPAP machine (which he regularly uses at home) but he declined it. I told him at least the hissing might've provided some white noise. Oh, well.

It turns out nothing was wrong with his heart, thank God. He was scheduled for a stress test at 11 am yesterday morning, but after having 3 sets of cardiac enzyme tests come back negative, the stress test was cancelled. He was relieved. He did have an elevated white blood cell count, but not abnormally high. He has a cold, so that could very well explain the high count.

After spending 3 hours filling out paperwork, hubby was discharged and went straight to Barnes & Noble to find a book called Sugar Busters. He's determined to get healthy so that he doesn't have a heart scare again. He's been exercising faithfully every night, but he wants to make his diet healthier. I don't blame him. We all need to do that around here.

So why do I love Wednesdays?

Well, this particular Wednesday I'm just happy to see sunshine outside my window. It's been grey and bleak the past few days, so it's nice to see the sun. That alone is a reason to love today. Wednesday has brought a return to our routine, which I crave. I had Aiden home on Monday and all the kids stayed home yesterday because I just didn't feel well enough to shuttle them to school and back (and I wanted them with me in case something happened to Stan). So today everyone is back at school and I'm feeling much better. I'm doing my regular chores, which I don't necessarily enjoy but they do bring me a sense of normalcy and satisfaction that I'm DOING something.

But there's one BIG reason I love Wednesdays...

I love Wednesdays the MOST because I get to spend time alone with this kid:



That's my Quinnie.

Stan picks Lillian up from school and takes her on a Daddy lunch date then drops her off at his mom's, so I get to pick up Quinn and spend about an hour with him before we go pick up Camryn and Aiden. We usually run an errand and pick up a treat. It doesn't matter what the treat is. Quinn's easy to please. It could be a doughnut from Dunkin or a cup of hot chocolate from Starbucks or a sundae from McDonald's. He just wants to spend the time alone with me, and I with him. We always have a good time, whether we're getting a car wash, going to Target or shopping for ornaments at Hallmark (today's fun outing!) I love my Wednesdays and my Quinnie dates!

Husband

I've seen this on so many of my friends' blogs lately, so I thought I'd put it on mine, too. (And no laughing at the pink backpack. There's a story there...)



What is his name? Stan, Daddy, Doctor

How long have you been married? Coming up on 14(!) years.

How long did you date? From August '94 until we married January '96. We were engaged December '94. I had known him for 4 months when I agreed to be his wife. I just knew he was the one.

How old is he? Just turned 37 in June.

Who eats more? He does.

Who said I love you first? He did. On our first real date (we met on AOL and talked on the phone for a month before we met in person...) My response? I was so shocked I said, "I kinda like you, too." I did love him, but it was weird to hear him say it since we had just "officially" met.

Who is taller? He is, by 4 inches.

Who sings better? That would probably be me, but he can pick out a tune better. He just sings so softly that it's hard to hear him.

Who's temper is worse? Mine. He's very patient, but he can get really mad if things build up.

Who does the laundry? That would be me. He'll take the hampers from our closet to the laundry room for me, but that's where his responsibility stops. I relieved him of all laundry duty when we got married. I'm very picky about doing the laundry. He will put his away, but he hardly ever washes anything but towels.

Who pays the bills? He does. Most of our bills are paid via automatic withdrawal, but he's the one that set up all of that. He's the money nerd.

Who cooks dinner? I do most of the time, but he will if I'm tired or sick. He's a great cook, but he doesn't measure anything. Makes me crazy, because his recipes can't be duplicated!

Who mows the lawn? Mr. Fred. He's been mowing our lawn for a few years now. He's a really nice guy... very patient and willing to move the kids' toys out of the way when he mows.

Who wears the pants in the family? He is. He welcomes my input, but he makes the final decisions on most things.

Wipe On, Wipe Off

Early last week the doorbell rang and I opened the door to find a HUGE box on my porch. I eyed it suspiciously. It bore my husband's name and was from a company whose name I didn't recognize. I couldn't imagine what kind of ginormous new gadget he'd ordered, but I wasn't about to tamper with the box just in case it was a gift for little ole me.

As if.

'Twas no gift for me. It was for him. In fact, I would never have ordered such a thing. Only my strange husband would.

He's been talking about it for years. When we did the electrical walk through for our house, he asked the electrician to install an outlet specifically for this item in anticipation of its purchase. You can imagine the strange look my husband got from the electrician. Well, maybe not yet, because I haven't told you where said outlet was placed.

Ready?

Beside the toilet. The john. The crapper. The porcelain pony.

My husband's new "toy"?

A Takagi T-F100.

Don't know what that is?

Let me enlighten you.

It's a toilet seat.

Yeah. You read that right. A toilet seat that costs about as much as the rent on our first apartment.

Choking yet?

Join the club.

Here's a picture (Don't worry. I wouldn't subject you to pictures of our actual model. That's just a little too personal, y'all).



Clicking on the picture will give you an enlarged version. Just in case you want to see this thing BIGGER. Ha.

It has some nice features, I'll admit, but I just can't get used to seeing it on my toilet. Every time I go for a pee I feel like I'm sitting on the can in the Space Shuttle. Freaky.



After I settle myself, a little fan starts up, and although it is a soft sound, it always scares me (Hey! You could say it scares the CRAP out of me sometimes! How's that for funny?!?!) After the fan starts, I always expect to hear the voice of Hal from 2001: A Space Odyssey. "Hello, Beth. What is your business with us today? Would you like me to read you the day's news headlines? How about a beverage?"

Strange, strange, strange.

I'm about over my husband asking me if I've used the cleanse feature yet. I've never had someone inquire so often about my bathroom habits. I'm still getting used to my toilet seat having buttons on it, for goodness sakes. I don't know when (or if) I'll ever want the thing squirting my you know what with water, thankyouverymuch. I am not a fan of wet crack (and with that, I feel I've shared WAAAAAAAY too much personal information... as if I hadn't already...)

I can say this about the seat: it might come in handy if stuff comes out the other end. Yak, flush, get a sip of water.

Sorry. It just popped into my head. It sounds like something Mr. Bean would do, no?

Bed, Breakfast & Brilliance

This past weekend, my sweet hubby spirited me away to a local bed & breakfast to celebrate our 12th wedding anniversary. Our favorite B&B, The Red Horse Inn, is a short 20 minute drive from our house, but it honestly feels like we're a gazillion miles away from anywhere. It feels so isolated from life. We always try to use the weekend to rest and just be together, whether we're talking or reading or just enjoying the quietness. It's always a refreshing weekend. I love spending time alone with my better half, because it reminds me (again) why I said, "I do!"

The owners of the inn, who have yet to overlook an important detail in their attempts to make their guests as comfortable as possible, stock each room with a variety of reading materials. I love reading the magazines and books left in the rooms, because often what is provided is not something I'd normally look at. I devour everything, because I actually have time to just sit and read without interruption. It's heaven!

One of the books in our room this weekend was full of quotes about life and aging. I failed to write down the title or the authors of the book, but I did come away from the inn with 20- 3.5" square pieces of paper bearing scribbled quotes. I wrote down everything that left an imprint on me, because I love a good quote. I love to ponder the thoughts of others, ruminate on them, and then apply them to my own life.

Here is my favorite from the book:

"My idea of forgiveness is letting go of resentment that does not serve your better interest, ridding yourself of negative thoughts. All they do is make you miserable. Believe me, you can fret and fume all you want, but whoever it was that wronged you is not suffering from your anguish whatsoever."

That was said by the infinitely wise Della Reese. Kind of an eloquent way of saying, "Put up, or shut up," huh?

Just like riding a bike...

A couple of weeks before Christmas, my better half came home from work carrying a handful of paper "Mommy Dollars" (complete with my picture) and some homemade price tags. He said he'd had a brilliant idea that would keep him from having to drag the kids out shopping.

He explained that the kids could earn Mommy Dollars by doing things that help Mommy around the house. Emptying laundry, clearing dishes, emptying the dishwasher, putting away laundry, etc... All stuff they should be doing anyway, but now they'd be rewarded for doing it with a cheerful attitude. The Mommy dollars could be earned until the Friday before Christmas (the 21st).



On Friday, my beloved set up a Mommy Mall in the basement. Everything he purchased for me had a price tag on it, and the kids could "buy" gifts for me at the Mommy Mall. Then they got help wrapping their gifts in the gift wrap center Daddy set up in my scrapbooking room (it has a large work island for gift wrapping and other stuff...)



I just think he's so smart! I told him he had to take pictures and then hide the camera so I couldn't peek! The kids were so excited and were SUPER helpful that entire week. I love Mommy Dollars! I told my husband that the extra help is the best gift!

Mid-week my husband gave the kids a sneak peek so they'd know what they were working to buy. My oldest child worked extra hard to earn money, because there was something she had to "buy" me and it had to be from HER. I couldn't imagine what it was that had her working so hard, doing so much, asking so often what she could do to earn extra "money".

On Christmas day the kids handed out the presents, and when the gifts were all piled in front of their recipients, my husband told me to shut my eyes. I did, and I heard scuffling and clicking and then I smelled rubber. It was my long awaited bicycle! Yippee! I was thrilled, because I had hinted strongly for two years that I wanted a bike. Someone finally listened!

Well, today is January 13th, and I have yet to get on that bike and ride it. It sat inside until Tuesday the 8th, and my husband finally rolled it outside. He rode it to see if it was big enough for him (it wasn't). But I have yet to put my bootie on it. My dad even sent me a nice, comfy, soft furlike cover for the seat, and I haven't tested it out yet.

Why?

I'm scared that I won't remember how to ride it. I haven't been on a bike since the 90s. What if I fall?

I gotta' get on that bike. I gotta'.

Wish me luck.

Evolution

I was in my reading room this morning (aka "the water closet") and I had a revelation. Somewhere along the way, my husband stopped putting the toilet paper on the roll the "right" way, and so have I.

It's so funny, really. When we got married, we were both adamant that the paper go over the top, not under. We were both very meticulous about putting the paper on the roll in the agreed about manner. We thought it was one of those things that made us so alike, so connected, so in sync.

Now it doesn't matter. So many things are so much more important that the Toilet Paper Accords of 1996 are but a distant memory.

I used to be utterly anal about ironing things. Not one of my family members ever left the house in a wrinkled garment. I thought it reflected badly on me as the caretaker and fabric wrinkle eradicator of this family. I actually thought people would think badly of me if my husband and children appeared in public wearing clothes with (gasp!) wrinkles. Now I'm just lucky if their clothes match, or their hair is brushed, or they're wearing matching shoes.

Life is busy, and I've learned to concentrate on the truly important things.

So today, if you see me at church picking the kids up from VBS with Lillian wearing her ultra-wrinkled sundress, don't judge. I spent those 10 minutes with Lillian instead of ironing her dress.
And that's okay.

He's a keeper!

A few days ago I discovered that my iPod, which previously contained over 2000 songs, was down to a mere 235 tunes.

Ruh-roh.

About this same time, the computer on which I had my iTunes program (noticed I used the past tense of "have") bit the proverbial dust.

Ruh-roh.

Today my wonderful hubby got the computer to turn its monitor and cough. It's now synching with my iPod to bring back all 2000+ songs.

That hubby o' mine. He's a keeper.

(Can you say "major back-up" my friends?)

Husband Vent

I love my husband, I really do, but sometimes I don't think he really thinks things through.

This morning I asked him if he could cut out of work a little early on Saturday to take Aiden to a birthday party at one of those frenetic indoor party places (Monkey Joe's) so I don't have to take (and watch) all 4 of the kids. He said yes, then kissed me goodbye and started to walk out the door.

He returned a minute later with a concered look on his face. "What time is the party?"

"Three to five on Saturday," I said.

"This Saturday? The 23rd?" he responded.

"Yup," I nodded.

Evidently there is something in the works for Saturday the 23rd (could it be the Harry Connick, Jr. concert? OOooh! I hope so!)

Hubby said, "I can take him, but we'll have to leave early so I we can be home at 5."

"What's going on at 5?" I said, trying to conceal my glee.

"Um, Mama's coming to keep the kids, and..."

I lost him after that. "Mama's coming to keep the kids" is all I heard.

No. Uh-uh. Won't be happening. NO FREAKIN' WAY.

See, last week, my girls spent the night with my mother-in-law. My 15 year-old niece was in town visiting her as well, and the girls wanted to have a sleepover at Nana's new house (5 minutes from ours), so we consented.

My husband took the girls over there last Monday afternoon and forgot to leave a car seat for our youngest, Lillian, who is 2 1/2. Our oldest, 9, meets the requirements to be out of a car seat, so that was not an issue for her. Realizing his mistake on his way home, my husband called his mom. "I forgot to leave you Lillian's seat. Do I need to come back and give it to you?" She answered no, that she wasn't planning to take the girls anywhere.

(Can you predict what happens next?)

The next day the girls came home and the VERY FIRST THING out of my 9 year-old's mouth was, "Nana took us to Moe's for lunch and Lillian was NOT in her car seat!" She was busting to tell me, but not in a tattling way. She was genuinely horrified at what my mother-in-law had done. Needless to say, so was I. Completely speechless. First of all, car seats for kids under 8 years and 80 pounds are THE LAW in this state. Secondly, well.... there are LOTS of secondlies.

I just don't know what she was thinking. Her excuse when my 9 year-old protested? "I don't have anything in this house to feed you." Um, okay. Call for pizza. Leave the 15 year-old with the girls while you go to Moe's alone to pick up the food. OR CALL ME and either get the seat from me or let me come pick up my children before you PUT A FREAKIN' TWO YEAR-OLD IN A CAR WITHOUT A CAR SEAT. My daughter reported that the fridge was full and she tried to tell Nana that she'd eat cereal rather than go somewhere, but Nana was adamant about taking everyone to Moe's. She put my daughter at risk for Mexican food. Can I just scream?

Mad? Yep. Still am. To me, this is unforgiveable. It's not the first time she has put my kids in danger somehow, but by God, it will be the last. I told my husband that I no longer trust his mom alone with our kids. HE AGREED COMPLETELY. So why? Why call her to BABYSIT? What was he thinking? I know he wanted to surprise me, and that touches me, but he knows the babysitter's number, too. I guess because his mom is free, he preferred calling her. But my children are PRICELESS, and if I have to pay someone over having MIL keep them for free, I'll choose to pay every time.

I just got off the phone with our regular babysitter. She is coming Saturday at 5 pm so we can still do whatever it is that is planned. I don't know what my husband will tell his mom, and frankly, I don't care. I want him to tell her that we don't trust her alone with the kids, but I know he'll make up some other excuse. She'll turn it into "Beth doesn't want me keeping the kids" when she talks to her sister and my sister-in-law (her daughter), which is fine, because I know my kids are safer with the babysitter than they are with my mother-in-law. If that's the price I pay, so be it.

Blog Challenge: Dear Cupid

Write a letter to Cupid.
Say what's on your mind about Valentine's Day.
Is it a bunch of bunk?
Another chance for Hallmark to make some money?
Are you a romantic at heart?
Do you have hints for your Valentine?
Do you have a Valentine's memory to reminisce about?

Dear Cupid....

I think Valentine's Day is stupid. I think jacking up the prices on flowers that are already too expensive is outrageous. I think not being able to eat in a restaurant on Valentine's Day because everyone is taking their sweeties out to eat stinks. Why on earth do we have this holiday?

I'm sorry, but I've never been a fan of your day, Cupid. I never really had a Valentine when I wanted one (unless you count my parents...) I guess that's where my dislike of your holiday comes from. I even had a boy break up with me on V day. How sad is that?

Now that I'm married and have a permanent Valentine (which some people would really love to have, I know...) my Valentine never really acknowledges the day. Perhaps it's because my birthday is a mere 9 days before Love Day and our anniversary falls 25 days before it, too. I don't know. But that stinks, too. I would love some little gift (even though I act like it's no big deal 'cause I don't want to start a fight with my Valentine...), but I guess my sweetie thinks he's off the hook because of our other two special days.

Cupid, could you send him a link to my blog?

Happy New Year!

I'm 33 years-old, but I might as well be 60, because I bet my New Year's Eve is as exciting as my parents'.

At least I can stay up until midnight. But barely.

I never have an exciting New Year's Eve. Even when it was just me and the hubby, we were boring on December 31. The first few years I tried to get him to go out and do something. He's just not a party guy.

Then we had kids. Do you know how hard it is to find a babysitter on New Year's Eve? Just as hard as it is to find one on Valentine's Day. Fuggedaboutit.

Right now we have the news on. Previously we were watching "Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve" (hosted, oddly enough, by Ryan Seacrest...) I'm sure when our local news is over we'll be switching back to Ryan so we can see the Swarovski crystal ball drop.

PAR-TAY.

At least I knew who Rihanna was when she was on the big show earlier. My husband recognized the sampling of "Tainted Love" that's a part of her song "SOS", but he had no idea who Rihanna was. Same with Fergie. Bless his heart. He still thinks the Black Eyed Peas are something we're supposed to eat for luck on New Year's Day.

I'll just leave him to his Star Wars marathon. I didn't marry him 'cause he's cool. He sure fills out a pair of Joe Boxer plaid lounge pants, though. Call the fire department, 'cause my man is H-O-T HOT, y'all.

SIDE NOTE: I just noticed on Wikipedia that Rihanna was born in 1988. Fo shizzle, y'all. I was 15 when that girl was born. I told you I was old.

Usually hubby and I toast the new year with a glass of sparkling apple cider. This year we'll be enjoying Mimosas (yee haw!) thanks to the nice folks at the Grand Floridian hotel at Disney World. They gave us a split of Korbel champagne when we were there in January celebrating our 10th anniversary. We brought it home in our checked luggage, and it's been sitting in our pantry since then.

Woot! My man's gettin' out the Solo cups for the New Year's toast. It's almost time!

Happy New Year!

50th Blog!

Woot!

It's my 50th blog! PAR-TAY!

I went to Target today to do some Christmas shopping for my hubby.

Really, he's not that hard to please. He doesn't even need Christmas gifts, but I always feel the need to try to buy him something. Anything.

I took my 4 year-old son with me and we had a great time. I bought him a box of cookies and some chocolate milk at the snack stand ('cause I use food to buy my kids' love, you know...) We surfed the endcaps for the Target clearance deals (not much there, I tell you!) I got myself a new sweater, some new Aveeno facial cleansing pads and some moisturizer. I love getting new stuff, even if it is just *moisturizer*.

But back to the reason we were there. Shopping for my sweet hubby.

I pushed our buggy up and down the aisles, perusing clothing (he doesn't need it), underwear, t-shirts (needs them, but my mom always gets him these for Christmas... don't know why...), electronics (not even going to go there... he's a tech freak and I'm so.... NOT), bicycles (um, no) until I got to the automotive department.

JACKPOT.

I found so many things that hubby can use in the auto department. A new suede-y steering wheel cover. A thing that fits in the cup holder that stores loose change. A huge mug with a bottom that fits in the cup holder. A keyring that is also a voice recorder thingy so he can leave himself little messages (like, "bring home eggs" or "buy my wife something nice". You can see how this might work to my advantage!)

I also found him a nice Black & Decker auto wrench in the tool department. 'Cause if there is one thing my hubby loves, it's things that make his life easier. And what about an AUTOMATIC WRENCH doesn't SCREAM "lazy to the bone"?!? You don't even have to turn your wrist! COME ON! How great is that?!?

There's just one thing I have left on my list for hubby: a Claxton fruitcake.

I can see it now. Sweet hubby, sitting on the couch on Christmas morn, wearing his brand new undies, noshing on his fruitcake, putting together toys with his lazy man's wrench.

It's a Wonderful Life.

Ode to My Husband...

Finally, someone has penned a song about my beloved hubby. Thank you, Weird Al.

Provided By MetroLyrics

Helper

Genesis 2:18 says "The LORD God said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.'"

Helper doesn't even begin to describe what my husband is to me. Now, I know that the Bible says that the woman (Eve) was created to be a helper to Adam (her husband), but I would say that it goes both ways. Husbands are helpers, too! (Hey, that's a good t-shirt slogan!)

My husband, Stan, is my helper. He's the greatest. He's my friend, my confidant, my co-conspirator, my aide. He is truly "my better half."

Stan rubs my neck when it's sore (like it is right now). He rubs healing anti-itch cream on my razor burned legs so I don't scratch myself to death (like he did last night.) He uses the pumice stone on my heels when they get dry and cracked and need to be softened. He gently rubs my feet with soothing lotion when he finishes pumicing them. And after all that, if he feels the slightest bit "romantic" and I rebuff his advances, he doesn't pout. He understands.

Stan works hard all day long so I can enjoy the luxury of staying home with our children. Then, even though I know he's as tired as I am, my partner pitches in and does the dishes, bathes the kids, reads to them and puts them to bed so I can enjoy a long soak in my tub.

Stan never complains when we have Hamburger Helper for dinner, even though I know he'd love something tastier. He tells me I'm a great cook even though I'm capable of creating something nasty like low fat, sugar free chocolate sponge cake. He's not disappointed when he comes home and there's no lingering smell of something simmering on the stove. He either offers to take us all out to dinner or he digs around in the freezer and pantry for something to feed his family.

Stan doesn't utter a word when there are baskets stacked up in our bedroom, full of clean laundry to be folded (like there are right now). He doesn't disparage me when it's clear I've done "nothing" all day. He gets that some days a girl just hasta' stay in her PJs and watch game shows if she's going to stay sane.

Stan tells me I'm beautiful even when I know I don't look all that hot, because my sweet husband sees my inner beauty. He sees past my selfishness and my pride and my narrowmindedness and my gluttony and past everything I count as a personal fault. He loves me unconditionally. He shows me a great deal of mercy when I do not deserve mercy. I learn from every him day.

My sweet hubby spoils me and loves me and pampers me and exhorts me and praises me and I love him dearly.

This blog's for you, honey. Mwah!