Journey

I have had these lyrics floating around in my head today:

I get the joy of rediscovering you
I'm forever yours
Faithfully

It's from "Faithfully" by Journey and while it's not about the relationship between a parent and child, I feel like it applies to me lately.

I feel like I've rediscovered my children. I've always been involved in their lives, but I decided to make a conscious effort to interact with them more during our days together this summer. I've fallen in love with my babies all over again. Who couldn't love faces like these?



We've been watching home videos together over the past few days and nights, and I have to admit, there are a lot of those moments I had forgotten. When you're so accustomed to seeing your kids in their present states day after day, it's difficult to remember what they were like when they were younger. That's why I've loved watching the videos. I have been reminded of how awesome my kids are because I see how far they've come since they were tiny and how precious (and unprecocious) they were when they were small.

I love those kiddos. Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em.

I'm forever theirs....

Faithfully

Doppelganger Family

I grew up in a great family. My mom and dad were (are!) great parents. My sister and I had so much fun as kids; many times hanging out with our parents was more fun than being with our friends! There was always an adventure waiting for us when we were out with the 'rents.

One spring break we went down to Gulf Shores, Alabama. Being that it was March (April?) the weather was not ideal for what a person typically does at the beach. It was chilly, and rainy, and everything you don't want it to be when visiting the ocean.

My mom, being a thrifty shopper, had purchased the cheapest snacks and canned beverages she could find at the store. Our shoreline noshing was therefore limited to carbonated Shasta beverages in flavors like diet cream soda, diet lemon lime and diet black cherry (and this was waaaaay before diet tasted good!), and Lance crackers. Everything was piled into an ancient soft-side plastic cooler in a loud bright orange and yellow floral print. Very inconspicuous (not). Any other teens would have been diving under the sand to avoid being seen in such a situation, but I don't remember feeling embarrassed at all. It was a blast!

Like I said before, the weather was windy and chilly, so we were 4 of about 10 people on the beach that morning. We spread out our stuff and tried to pretend we were warm. It was great kite-flying weather, but not a good time to be in a bathing suit trying to get a tan. Brrrr.

My dad is a National Guard veteran, so he owns these really neat (and warm and weather resistant) camouflage blankets. We had two of them on the beach with us that day. We sat on one of them, and when it started to drizzle, all four of us huddled under the extra blanket, drinking nasty Shasta (aka "Nasta") and eating Lance crackers. Hilarity ensued. It's a memory we dredge up just about every time we're together.

When my husband and kids and I were sitting on the beach during Tropical Storm Barry on Saturday, the people next to us looked like this:



That green thing they're using to block the wind?

Why, it's a green camouflage blanket EXACTLY LIKE the one my family huddled under that day over 20 years ago!

Ain't that a hoot?!?

Nuggets

Things that are making me smile lately:

* Our pool is almost finished! The concrete should be poured late next week.

* My 4 year-old is super snuggly of late, so he's willing to lay down and rest with me in the afternoon. Plus, he LOVES to brush my hair. LOVES it. I love having my hair brushed!

* Organizing & putting away new scrapbook supplies. I love organizing and putting away new stuff almost as much as I love buying and using it!

* Not spending so much time in front of the computer means I have more time for other things I enjoy so much more!

* That guy that cut us off on our way home on Sunday was pulled over by a state trooper about 5 minutes after he cut us off. LOVE THAT.

* Schwan's Cream Cheese Pretzels

* The 2 year-old is taking longer naps because of the Benadryl she requires for an itchy rash she's had for about a week.

* My older daughter forgot her Webkinz password AND lost the retrieval code, so she's not using the computer as much (which means fewer fights over computers between her and her younger brother)

* Did I mention Schwan's Cream Cheese Pretzels?

* I don't have to get up early for nuthin' 'cause nobody's doing anything. School's out... for summer!

* General Hospital. Summertime means hot storylines! (I know. I'm a freak, but GH is the only soap I watch!)

* I got a gift certificate for a long spa day as my Mother's Day gift. I still haven't used it. I can't wait to, though. The thought of having a day to myself keeps me cheerful!

* Kool Aid. Grape Kool Aid to be specific. I drink almost as much of it as I do sweet tea. YOM.

* I made a 2-week meal plan so I know what we're having for dinner every night for the next 14 days. Cool.

Ah, summer...

It's that time again.



Summertime.

The livin' is supposed to be easy, but whoever wrote that song didn't have 4 kids to keep happy on a 5-hour trip in a smallish SUV. The song would not have been so mellow, and I'm pretty sure it would've included a lot more screeching and pulling of hair. Think Marilyn Manson sings "Summertime" and you've got the soundtrack for our vacation. When you have little devils like these 2, vacations are work:



My sweet hubby and I took our kids down to Myrtle Beach last Wednesday. The trip started out like this:







We stopped about halfway to the beach, because frankly, it makes traveling with kids easier when there is a break. Mama didn't raise no fool.

Thursday morning, we went to the state education museum, EdVenture. In the lobby of the museum there's a huge boy named Eddie whose insides you can explore. There are even sound effects. That's cool for most kids, but my Aiden, who's 6, is freaked out by noises, so the gurgling of the stomach and the bolts of electricity in the brain just wasn't his kind of fun.



We all had a great 3-hour visit to the museum. I solved a puzzle that my brainiac hubby couldn't fix:



Hey, Fergie! Check out these humps and those 4 lovely little lumps on top of the humps!



We go to the same hotel in Myrtle Beach every year, because my husband has to take classes to keep his license current, and the classes are held in the hotel. We get beach time and he gets hours. It's a great situation for him, really. For me it's like my everyday life, except with sand and sunscreen. There are still meals to cook, dishes to wash, fights to referee and clothes to clean, but I'm doing it all in a small condo instead of my nice, large house. Ah, the things we do to experience the beauty of nature. A little sand in the crotch is good for the soul, no?

When we arrived at our condo, my older daughter, the safety freak, flipped the dead bolt on the main door. When we tried to flip it back to get out, we discovered we were locked inside our room. As fate would have it, we had rented the adjoining suite to make a 3-bedroom condo, so we could exit out of that door. However, if the adjoining door was shut from the wrong side, we would die a horrible death from starvation because we wouldn't be able to leave the room.

Maintenance was called. The 2 year-old and I settled in for a nap while sweet hubby dragged the other kids off to Super Wal Mart to fetch vittles. When they returned almost 2 hours later, laden with foodstuffs, the door was still broken. Maintenance was called again, and came within 5 minutes.

The lock was officially pronounced broken (thanks, Zeb!), and we were offered another abode. The kids and I grabbed pillows and small bags and went down to the new condo. We were told that the maintenance man would meet us down there with the keys. Imagine my dismay when there was neither a maintenance man nor a set of keys awaiting us. Not even a propped door. Nada. We were stuck in the overly warm hallway, belongings in hand, looking very much like vagrants. A few minutes later my hubby came down the hall pushing a grocery cart full of our stuff. If ever I've had a Beverly Hillbillies moment, THAT was it.



Hubby turned around to go get the keys. My 6 year-old started to cry, because he thought we were going to run out of oxygen in the hallway. I guess he equates air conditioning with breathable air, because he was sure we were doomed. I just had to laugh, and when I finished laughing I started taking pictures. Notice that look on Camryn's face. She thinks Aiden is N-U-T-S.



Keys were found and we went inside our gorgeous condo. It was absent of any of the normal wicker beach furniture, the decor in shades of teal and peach, seashells, and big, puffy couches that Aunt Bertha didn't want so someone stuck them in their beach apartment. The new condo was NICE. I double checked to make sure the owners didn't mind my children being there, because it was that fancy. We're talking REAL wood furniture. No glass-topped tables. Real bedspreads. New tile floors. Granite countertops in the bathrooms and kitchen. Stainless appliances. N*I*C*E, y'all.



The beach was gorgeous, as always. I miss the white sand of the Gulf of Mexico that I visited every summer as a child, but I'm growing to like Carolina beaches. I just miss the dunes.



I love parking myself in a beach chair and watching the kids frolic.



What I think should be outlawed is exertion on the beach (except for the kind it takes to set up a beach chair or a beach tent). Those freaks that feel it necessary to ruin my "slovencation" by parading their toned, tanned bodies up and down the shoreline. You know the ones that don the sneakers and the jogwear and the iPod tucked in the armband, then proceed to jog up and down the beach. I really have no problem with other people exercising, but I really don't want to be reminded of my laziness when I'm supposed to be relaxing, know what I mean? Isn't that why hotels have rooms full of exercise equipment? Go climb the stairmaster and leave me to my nap, please!

And, as if to say he agrees, God sent this rainbow as a sign that thou shalt never jog on the beach again:



Actually, the rainbow appeared on Saturday, when we (foolishly) went out to the beach in the middle of a tropical storm. While he wasn't directly bearing down on us, we did experience the effects of Barry, who was off churning up the waters in the Atlantic.

There were high waves and rip currents and the occasional person making the most of the storm:



And blustery winds that made for chilly weather:



But it was worth it, because the kids still had fun and I got great pictures like this one:



And this:



And this:



We had to leave the beach on Sunday, and it was too stormy to go to the beach or the pool. I had a great time, but I wish we had seen more sun. On the upside, there was a washer/dryer in the condo, so I got to wash all the vacation laundry before we got home! Word up!

We outta there, y'all!

Pomp & Circumstance

There is a graduate in my house.

A kindergarten graduate, that is.



The one with the red eyes is mine. Ain't he a good lookin' boy? (even if it is an awful picture!) And he's now a rising first grader!

My Aiden "graduated" from kindergarten on Friday. I know a lot of people might think 5K graduations are silly and take away from the significance of the high school ceremony (*whatever*), but I loved every minute of the program on Friday.

First, the kids did a little "ABCs of Kindergarten" presentation. Aiden, who is not much of a public speaker, had 2 parts.

A is for.... ART!

Aiden proudly held up his flower picture and said, "Pointillism!" I don't know that many people knew what he said, but his momma did!



V is for VOWELS!

Aiden was A. How appropriate!

After the ABCs, there was a video that required Kleenex. The husband of one of the kindergarten teachers (who also happened to be the parent of a graduate) put together a video slideshow of the kids. He put up a baby photo of each child and followed it with a graduation photo of that child. Then he showed pictures of the kids taken throughout the year and interspersed poems and sayings and Bible verses. Not a dry eye, I tell you (and me without a tissue!) And the best part... we're getting a copy of the video! I can't wait!

While the parents watched the video, the kids donned their robes for the certificate ceremony. The kids were all so cute in their little caps and gowns. I was so proud of my boy, even if it was just kindergarten! I couldn't help but think of what Dr. Seuss wrote. "Oh! The places you'll go!"

I can't wait to see where he goes! What a day!

I scream! You scream!

So yesterday, when I was at the grocery store with the kiddos, I saw someone restocking the Breyer's ice cream in the freezer section.

I was thisclose to saying, "No doubt you have the COOLEST job in the world!"

Woot! Woot!

Give it up for the punny girl!

Yesterday

Yesterday was Monday.

Normally Mondays don't go well for me for whatever reason, but yesterday was a superb day.

I made up my mind on Sunday night that I was going to try to stay away from the computer all day on Monday. I have an unfinished library book due on Wednesday (Next by Michael Crichton) and I was determined to finish it. Plus, I had tons of laundry to do and some house-cleaning to accomplish. I find that the Internet just sucks me in some days, so I was determined to avoid it so I could get some things done.

I ended up checking my email twice yesterday, but I didn't spend more than 5 minutes online each time. Yea, me!

I took my 4 year-old to the dentist and surprised our favorite hygienist with a birthday cake and present (it was her 26th birthday yesterday). It made her day, which, in turn, made MY day. After that, I treated Quinn and Lillian to Happy Meals at McDonald's (which is rare) and they both got cute gingerbread man toys (from the movie "Shrek the Third"). They say, "Not my gingerbread buttons!", which is probably one of my favorite lines from the original Shrek movie. AND... the best part... they have OFF switches, so that when I get tired of Lillian pressing the button repeatedly ("not my, not my, not my, not my, not my gingerbread buttons!") I can just switch the thing off and hide it under the couch cushions. GEE-NEE-US!

After we finished eating, I put Lillian down for her afternoon snooze (she's 4 months away from turning 3, but thank heavens she still loves her naps!) Quinn and I retired to my bedroom, where Quinn played quietly with his new tractor/trailer/truck Tonka toy while I read. After awhile Quinn joined me on the bed and we snuggled up to take our own nap. How sweet is that feeling of warm child snuggled close to you? How sweet does his hair smell? How wonderful is it when he says, "Mommy, I love 'snuggalin' you!"? Bliss. Pure bliss.

I spent the afternoon helping my oldest child with a school project and watching Food TV with my other kids (They love Paula Deen, Giada and Barefoot Contessa.) Then I cooked dinner (grilled steaks!) and we had a nice meal together. The best part of dinner? EVERYONE ate. That's not normal at our house. Normally there is at least one child complaining about the food. It was a Monday miracle!

My husband and I cuddled together on the couch and watched "Dancing with the Stars" (go Joey!), "Heroes" (Adrian Pasdar is GONE?!?!) and "The Bachelor" (I knew it would be Tessa!) on TV (thank goodness for DVR) and then we went to bed.

I think May 21, 2007 will go own in history as my favorite Monday ever.

(And this blog has officially become the one with the biggest use of parentheses.)

Blog Challenge: Love/Hate with the 5 Senses

I haven't done a Blog Challenge in awhile now. This one seems easy enough.

LOVE:

the SIGHT of the sand and sea -tied- with the sight of my children all snuggled together on the couch reading a book together.
the SMELL of freshly dried clothes that have been laundered with fabric softener and bleach.
the TASTE of homemade cream cheese frosting.
the SOUND of silence. It's so rare to get that in my life; I crave it at times.
the FEEL of my husband's arms around me or my children's hands in mine. There is safety there.

HATE:

the SIGHT of children being berated by their parents -tied- with the sight of roadkill.
the SMELL of burning food or skunk juice.
the TASTE of the stuff my dentist uses to numb my jaw during dental procedures. I jokingly told him it tastes like ear wax (it DOES!) and he looked at me like I had 4 heads. I guess not everyone has had the misfortune of tasting ear wax on the end of a pen you forgot you used to scratch the inside of your ear.
the SOUND of one of my children hurting one another -tied- with the sound of slamming doors.
the FEEL of tears welling up in my eyes when faced with confrontation.

My Life as a Dog

When I was a little girl, we had a dog named Odie. He was a very active dog, very precocious, very exciteable. He was small and black, sort of a mutt mixture that looked like a medium-sized Dachsund. We loved him very much.

Odie liked to follow the kids in our neighborhood to the bus stop at the top of the hill on our street. One morning he did just that, and someone driving too fast turned onto our street and hit Odie. I'll never forget that morning, sitting at the kitchen table eating my cereal and hearing the doorbell ring. I could hear someone talking to my mom at the front door, and then Mom rushed into the kitchen and told us to go to the car. She went and got a box and got Odie.

When Mom got in the car, she was bleeding and crying. Odie was hurt badly. He bit Mom when she tried to pick him up and put him in the box, not because he didn't like her, but because he was in pain.

Odie died. I don't remember if his death was a direct result of his injuries or if Mom just chose to have him put to sleep, but either way, Odie never came home.

At the time I didn't understand why Odie bit my mother when she was just trying to get him some help, but it's ironic to me today. I do the same thing.

When I'm hurt and backed into a corner, I tend to bite. It never ends well, but I do it anyway. I think it's human nature to try to protect ourselves from being injured any worse than we already are.

I don't know what to call this entry

I did something stupid (that I thought was wise) and someone got hurt.

I was hiding in my scrap room, crying and feeling generally miserable.

Guess who decided to visit me?

My 2 year-old daughter.

She used to have a ponytail.

Now she doesn't.


My 4 year-old decided to lop it off while Mommy was hiding.

So, make that 2 stupid things I've done today.

I feel pretty, oh so pretty....

I've been feeling sorta bummed lately, because all of my summer shorts are too tight. I should lose weight (workin' on that), but until then, I cannot go nekkid, and I ain't sweatin' in jeans all summer long.

I cannot remember the last time I stepped foot in the mall. I don't think I even went at Christmastime. I abhor the mall. I like to get out of my car and into a store in about 10 to 20 steps. Any more than that (especially with 4 kids in tow), and shopping officially becomes a pain.

Thank goodness for online ordering. I went to LaneBryant.com and ordered myself a few new things. I got 'em today, and since (at the time) I was still in my PJs, I put on a new outfit.

I got this in Gemini Green and I'm currently wearing it with these in Sandstone (I see that they're on sale for $19.99. I think I'll go back and order 2 more pairs in black!) I'm stoked because (1) the shirt is NOT knit and (2) the pants don't have an elastic waist. I feel like I live in knit tees and elastic waisted pants. As Katharine McPhee sings, "I'm over it!"

The best part?

Every piece of clothing I ordered FITS! NO returns!

WOO HOOOOOOO! I love new clothes!

It's Monday (MONDAY!)

First, let me start by saying that I love Al Roker. He is one of the few reasons I will occasionally waste time watching morning television. I have noticed that old Al is gaining back some of the weight he lost after his gastric bypass. Bless his heart. I can't give up the bread either, Al.

But anyhow, friends and neighbors.... I love that when Al gives the weekend forecast, he says, "Sunday, SUNDAY!" I think that's from an old comedy routine or something to do with baseball. Not sure. Either way, it's one of those things I've come to expect from Mr. Roker. Comfy like a soft blanket.

Today *IS* Monday, which means I should expect the unexpected. So far today, I have had to listen to 2-hour toddler rant about wanting a snaaaaaaaaaaaaack AND I found 4 piles of cat poop and 2 cat pukes in my downstairs (guest) bedroom.

Gotta love Mondays. I only love Mondays because (1) "The Bachelor" comes on and (2) they come before Tuesdays. My husband takes off work on Tuesdays.

I love Tuesdays. Comfy like a soft blanket.

Two things

(1) Why does Fergie (aka Stacy Ferguson) always spell in her songs? Does she feel the need to prove that she can do it?

Hint to Stacy: in "Fergalicious" when will.i.am spells "tasty" he adds an unnecessary "e", so eviDENTly you can't spell as well as you thought, "dutchess" (yeah, that's spelled wrong, too, dear.)

(2) When you have your sunroof open, don't try to clean your windshield if you're going 50+ mph. You will get wet.

** That last comment is for anyone, not just Fergie. I'm pretty sure that (a) she's driven wherever she goes so she doesn't have to worry about cleaning the windshield and (b) she does not read this blog.

Thissss.....is.... the way I live....

I have a tune wedgie. It's "The Way I Live" by Baby Boy Da Prince. If you haven't heard the song, you can click on that link and go hear it on his MySpace site. Be careful, though. It might become your tune wedgie!

Every time my life takes a detour down the road I didn't intend to travel, that song pops into my head.

Like two days ago.

I picked up my 3 youngest children from school. My 4 year-old was playing on the playground, which is right next to the entrance. As soon as I saw him, I knew something was up (or, rather, OUT). He was standing off to one side of the playground by himself, grasping his behind with one hand.

"Oh, great. PLEASE, God, don't let that be what I think it is."

I went inside, picked up my 6 and 2 year-olds, and met the 4 year-old in the lobby as he was coming off of the playground with his class.

As soon as I saw my son's teacher, I said, "I think Quinn had an accident." Her reply? "Yeah. I know."

Huh? IF YOU KNEW, why is he still outside with dirty drawers on?

(There are other teachers out there to watch her class. I don't see why she could not have brought my sweet boy in and helped him clean himself up. He even has extra clothes in his classroom cubby for such a time as this! My son is potty trained, but he is painfully shy and will not tell a teacher he needs to come back inside to go potty. The teacher KNOWS THIS.)

My son was crying, and had been for awhile. Bless his heart.

I took him to the car and cleaned him up. He continued to sob and apologize for soiling himself. I was furious with the teacher. The poop was dried and stuck to my son's sensitive skin. I had to scrub hard to get it off. I was almost in tears by the time I was done, because I knew I was hurting him.

(On a funny side note: The only clothes I had in the car were my 2 year-old daughter's bike shorts. I put them on my son, which made him look like he was wearing a Speedo. I wish I had my camera!)

So anyway.... I got my son cleaned up. I just threw the dirty pants into the trash can I keep in the car. I wasn't going to bother cleaning them. No way.

I got back into the car and I couldn't find my car key. I keep it separate from my key ring because it's one of those big keys that has the remote unlocker doohickey on the key. I had set it down in the melee and couldn't find it.

The kids were roasting. It was so hot in the car (which has black upholstery... not my first choice, but we bought it used...)

I found it! And we were off to get my daughter.

On the way to her school, I stopped off at the gas station (did I mention my gas gauge is broken just like the one on the van we traded for this "new" car? Yeah. I hate cars.)

I took the stinky trash can out of the car and dumped it into the one at the gas station.

And that's when my 4 year-old started wailing.

"My Power Ranger underwear! MOMMMMMEEEE! My dirty underwear was in there!" And on and on and on and on... He gets so very attached to things, and when he starts crying about something, he becomes fixated on it and repeats the same phrase over and over... So, on the way to the school I had to listen to him mourning his lost Power Ranger underpants. After all, they had the red ranger on them. How could I not know that?

And that's when the song popped into my head.

"Thiiiissssss..... isssss..... thuh..... way I live....."

It's always something.

Just a few minutes ago it was something else.

I had promised my kids ALL.WEEK.LONG that we would give "Sparkle" (our car) a bath on Saturday.

We had breakfast, the kids changed into their swimsuits, and we went outside.

I wanted to get the interior clean first, so I loaded all of the kids inside the car and got them to pick up the trash and toys. Not five minutes into the process I hear...

"MOMMY! Lillian's peeing in her car seat!"

Camryn (who is 9) had been nice enough to get Lillian dressed for me, but she had forgotten the crucial step: the diaper. So, I told Camryn to take her sister back inside and put a diaper on her.

I continued to vacuum.

The boys got rowdier and rowdier. I had to separate them.

Then I heard Camryn yelling for me.

"MOMMY! Lillian fell off of her changing table and landed ON HER HEAD!"

Just shoot me. Shoot me now. WHO KNEW washing a stupid car would be this much trouble?

Lillian was fine. She was just scared. She didn't actually land on her head. My older daughter just has a flair for the dramatic.

So we all went back outside and finished cleaning up the car. By the time we were done, there was a stench coming from the vacuum. I don't know what it was, but it smelled dead. I don't think I want to know what it is.

I sent everyone back inside and I moved the car from the garage to the driveway. We prepared the bucket of suds and brought it outside. Everyone was excited. They couldn't wait to turn on the water and spray each other (er... I mean.... clean the car....)

We went around to the side of the house to unwind the hose, and we found a dead mouse. Evidently I squished him in the process of moving the car.

Now I'm a mouse killer. My 4 year-old: "Mommy? Do you not like mouses? Won't his mommy miss him?" My 6 year-old: "He sure is cute. Or, he WAS. Now he's squished."

We turned on the water to power up the hose

AND

there was no water. It's been turned off all winter long. The valve is in the attic, and I have no idea how to turn the water on. That's my husband's job, and he's at work.

So guess what he gets to do when he gets home?

Clean dead mouse guts off of the driveway and supervise the car wash.

"Thiiiissssss..... isssss..... thuh..... way I live....."

Guess What?!?

My sister is coming! My sister is coming!

I have not seen my sister since Christmas Day. (Have we ever gone that long without seeing each other, Brooke?)

She's coming to visit for a few days in May. Her visit will coincide with Mother's Day, and I can't think of a better visit than a weekend with my sister. Really.

I came up with a brilliant plan for Mother's Day. I'll have an early brunch with my husband, kids and sister at Embassy Suites or Italian Market. Then, my husband will take the kids to his mother's for the day and my sister and I will hang out together without the kids! That sounds like the perfect day to me. I want to see a movie and go shopping somewhere that I wouldn't go if the kids were with me. Kirkland's? TJ Maxx? Who knows. I foresee lots of spending whereever I go, though. It's been so long since I had a girls' day with a grown-up girl!

Did I tell you my sister is coming?

I can't wait!

My name is Beth and I'm an addict

I'm addicted to Webkinz.

There, I said it. It feels good to be open about it.

I never got caught up in the whole Beanie Babies craze, and to be honest, I'm not addicted to *owning* Webkinz. I hate when a toy becomes a must-have item because no one can find them anywhere. It bothers me when something becomes overly popular and impossible to find because people are buying them up and putting them on Ebay.

But enough about that. Let's talk more about me.

I love playing the games at Webkinz.com. After my kids go to bed, I play the games in the arcade practically all night long. The kids love it, because while I'm playing, I'm also earning KinzCash for them. So I justify my addiction by telling myself I'm doing it for my kids.

Yeah, that's it. It's for the kids.

ABC News says it's bad for the kids. They didn't say it was bad for ADULTS. So I'm okay, right?

Turn Your Head and Cough

I found my 2 year-old daughter, Lillian, sitting in my closet this morning. She had her pretend stethoscope around her neck and was attempting to find her heartbeat.

In her foot.

Bless her heart. It doesn't look like being a doctor is in her future.

I don't think she'll ever work at a nail salon, either.



Given the powerful set of lungs she has, she's probably going to end up being that person in the Kia radio ads. You know. The one that screams "Aaaaaah! FRIENDS! Have we got an AMAAAAAAAAZING deal for you!" Thousands, nay, MILLIONS of people will switch the radio when my daughter's voice comes over the airwaves.

I'll be so proud! (And then, I'll switch the channel, too. Sorry, Lillian.)

Dancing with the Stars

I'm really enjoying this season's "Dancing with the Stars", despite the presence of the sympathy-sucking "Charity Campaigner IS SO a Real Job!" Heather Mills and "You've Got Something Crawling on Your Chin, Dude" Apollo Anton Ohno.

Leeza Gibbons is totally kicking butt for a 50 year-old woman. You rock, Leeza. (You dance like one, too, but that's a different entry... loosen up, girl!)

Laila Ali needs a voice lift so she doesn't sound like her famous father, but she dances well. I love Joey Fatone. Nothing bad to say there (anyone who can make "Star Wars" look less geeky is a winner in my book!) Even Cliff Clavin seems to be doing alright (compared to Master P a couple of seasons ago...)

But the person who's waltzing his way into my heart?

Ian Ziering.

Sigh.

I know. He's almost old enough to date Leeza, but he's not bad to look at. Yeah, his hairline is receding quicker than the line at burger joint whose fry cook just found out he has Hepatitis C, but he looks nice for a guy that's thisclose to earning Social Security (Hang in there, Ian! You can quit looking for acting jobs soon! The government will help!)

Maybe he just brings back good memories of watching "BH: 90210" in my dorm room in college. A Papa John's pizza paid for with a check that may or may not bounce and an evening with Donna, Kelly and the gang.

Those were good times.

Mirror, Mirror, On the wall....

....I have become my mother after all.

It's official. I am now my own mother.

I have been doing mom-like things for a long time. My husband usually catches me and says, "Hey, Linda! Stop it!" (Linda is my mom's name. The man sure knows how to get my attention!)

Lately I have become even more mother-like. I have noticed that I have started to fling my arm out across the passenger seat when I have to brake suddenly. (I guess my arm is there in case the seatbelt AND the airbag fail to work? Who knows.)

I say things to my kids that my mother said to me when I was a kid. When I say these things, it eerily sounds like my mother's voice coming from my mouth.

Like the day I told my boys not to eat their boogers because it would make worms grow in their stomachs. Why the heck did I say that? That was one thing that freaked me out as a kid, yet I REPEATED IT to my kids. (They still pick their boogers and eat 'em, so I guess they don't care about worms.)

I've walked through piles of stuff in my kids' rooms and warned them that they need to keep the floors clean because in a fire I might trip over the piles of junk and not be able to save them from the burning house.

Yep. My mom told me that one, too. Strangely, for months afterward I had nightmares about the house burning down. Great parenting, I tell you.

The worst thing, though... the dreaded thing that has made me realize I have turned into my mother....

I'VE STARTED TO HUM.

Oh, woe is me. It's true.

My mom loves to hum along to songs. She doesn't sing along. She hums. It has irritated the snot out of me my entire life. So WHY am I now doing it?

I can tell you why. In my aging wisdom, I have discovered why my mother hums. And guess what?

IT IS ALL MY FAULT.

See, I like music. I LOVE to sing along to the radio, but I'll sing along to anything, really. TV commercials. Kids' videos. "The Little Mermaid" is my favorite movie to sing along to. I know all the words. Even the French song that the chef sings when the Sebastian the crab is about to get stuffed. Les Poissons. LOVE that song.

But, like Edith Bunker, I've been warned to stifle it. My daughter is evidently very sensitive to my singing, so much so that she barks at me whenever I sing along to something.

"MOMMMMMMMMEEEEEEE. PUH-LEASE stop singing."

Therefore, in place of singing, I've turned to humming.

Like my own daughter, I chastised my mom for singing. I have no idea why (other than she always tried to sing the harmony instead of the melody). But, I did it to her. And, so, there it is. That's why my mother hums. I stifled her. I told her to stop singing, so she did the only thing she could do. She started to HUM.

I made my mother a Hummer.

And it's come back to haunt me.

FYI

For your information...

Febreze sprayed on a cat that has been doused in perfume does nothing to help the smell, but it sure does upset the cat.

Thanks to my darling, precious, wonderful 4 year-old son, Quinn, my cat is now wearing perfume.

And LOTS of it.



It's "Chloe" by Karl Lagerfeld, and normally I LOVE smelling it (on myself!) but somehow it smells different on a cat. I'm a bit overwhelmed by the scent (the cat is sitting beside me right now).

My son smelled like it, too, but he had a bath.

Ever try to wash a cat?

I think I'll put up with the smell, thankyouverymuch.

Or, maybe I'll try this method.