For the Cycle

In baseball hitting for the cycle means a player hit a single, double, triple and home run in the same games.  It is a rare feat to be celebrated.

I don't exactly know what hitting for the cycle would be in motherhood and I don't know that the following experience should be celebrated, but after repeated fails the other day I just kept having the thought that I should give up and go to bed because I had in fact, hit for the cycle.

1. Drench.  I came running in from the garage after picking up four kids.  (God bless that ONE kid who manages to ride the bus home on Tuesdays.)  I had to go to the bathroom SO BAD.  I had my phone the waistband of my skirt and I was carrying Shaye.  I bent over to put the seat down (three sons) and my phone fell into the toilet.  I fished it out while still holding Shaye and still doing the pee pee dance.  Then I called Ty to come get the phone from me to take it apart an dry it out.  He said, "I am not coming in there while you are pee-ing."  Really?  It doesn't seem to have been a problem at any other time in his life.
(He did take apart the phone and then he covered the soaking wet thing with about eleven grains of rice.  Thanks Ty.)

2. Dig.  Shaye's nose has been really stuffy/runny lately.  I saw some disgusting matter in there and went after it with a tissue.  That didn't work.  She couldn't blow it out so I looked for the baby snot snucker.  I found the leftovers from when the dog had recently eaten it as a snack.  I attacked the offending nose matter with a Q-tip and realized it was too firm to be mucous related.  I decided to take one stab at it with the tweezers before I resigned to the ER.  I was figuring Shaye Baby must have got some tissue embedded in there.  Instead a pulled out a tennis shoe to a Polly Pocket.  Apparently she decided at the sitter's her nasal cavity would be a good place to shove a toy she is not allowed to play with. 

3.  Dump.  About that time my nice neighbor/coworker came over to discuss impending layoffs at our school.  She was sitting at a bar stool observing my domestic goddess prowess.   I picked up the pepper box with my good hand.  (Shaye was occupying the other arm.) and dumped half a box of pepper on the chicken breast I was preparing. Luckily that was easily fixed.

(About this time The Coach showed up unexpectedly.  He had a game and I thought he would be headed to it.  Obviously I didn't get the phone call that he needed to swing by because my damp phone was chilling out in a big bowl with eleven of its ricest friends.)

4.  Drop.  Finally I was rummaging through the freezer for some food item when I took out a frozen t.v. dinner.  Apparently some child had previously opened the dinner, peeled back the plastic then decided he didn't want it.  Frozen corn and chicken went everywhere. I called for Ty who was sweeping the dining room to come sweep the kitchen and then I wrestled corn kernels from Shaye before she could insert them into her nose.

I feel like I pretty much covered everything a domestic hero should in one day.  I guess I will break into my home run trot now and go sign some autographs!

I haven't hopped for a while so I thought I would.  If you are vising from the hops please let me know so I can return the favor.  (And don't expect me to ever do better for this, I mean I did hit for the cycle after all!)

Ease on Down the Road - Run

Two more weeks are left on my half marathon training plan.  I went for an 11 mile run on Sunday.  It was a great run for two reasons.  First I ran from my mom's house and there is a hoity toity neighborhood nearby with nice houses and nature and fitness trails.  It was a lovely change of pace from the feeder road and truck stop I usually run past.  Secondly my nice husband put some new music on my ipod.  Michael Jackson!  With new music and new scenery..I ran like the wind...ok, like a strong breeze, a breath?

I "Wanna be Startin' Something", so I did a warm up lap around the neighborhood with Saige.  It is nearly impossible to listen to The King of Pop without grooving so I was doing some run/dancing.  Saige complained.  Something about embarrassment.   She rolled her eyes and, "Beat It" the next time we passed Mom's house.
The other awesome thing about this run was that the trail had a bathroom on it!  I was so excited.  I had to go, "BAD", so I used it even though it had signs all over it warning against trespassing.  What can I say?  I am a "Smooth Criminal".  I used it again later just because I could.

I kept on running my motto is, "Don't Stop Til' You Get Enough!".  Besides I want to be fit and look like a "PYT".

I miscalculated and finished the eleven miles and cool down walk with two more to get home so I called The Coach to come pick me up.  You have no idea "The Way It Makes Me Feel" to see him pulling up to fetch me.
Eleven miles is the furthest I have ever run.  It was a real....................................... "Thriller". 

Thanks for playing along!!
Only a little more than a week until the half marathon!!

Accessory

 I like to accessorize.  Usually in the form of some slightly slutty boots, or some cheap jewelry from Harwin.

Lately though I have a new accessory.  It is heavy and rarely matches my outfit.  It is giving me a hernia and possibly scoliosis, but I can't seem to shake it. 

No. It isn't that totally cool headband courtesy of Preeti.

The accessory is Shaye Baby.  I don't know what has happened, but lately she is very clingy.  VERY CLINGY.  I am surprised because she hasn't always been like this. It is some strange 16 month affliction all the cool babies are getting these days?

My dad made a comment over the holidays.  Something like..."It's no telling what all you could get done with two hands."  Ha ha.  (Not.)

 Just so you know it is perfectly fine for her to leave me.  It is not acceptable though for me to walk away from her. 

I guess it could be worse.  I guess I could still accessorizing with these two!

 The Coach has at least learned to coordinate their outfits.

What is your baby up too?

Death by Boot

I got the cutest rain boots for Christmas.  It was an early gift.  They were leopard print and shaped like cowboy boots.  I fell in love with them immediately.

I wore them the last day of exams at school because they were so adorable.

While the students were taking an exam I was crawling around on the floor grading some projects.  A few minutes into the exam I quietly asked them, "Tho thas a bathoon?"  They all stared at me until I could make my point more clear.  "THO THAS A BATHOON?  I'M ALLTHERGIC!"

(Translation:  Who has a balloon?  I am allergic.)

About that time I caught sight of my adorable boots and a thought popped into my head.  I wondered if rubber and latex are the same thing.  I have a severe latex allergy.  So I put my foot in my lap and tugged at the boots as I would my real boots and nothing happened.  I didn't think much of the action at the time, but I finally wrestled the boot off and the sole read "100% rubber".

I quickly googled a few things and lo and behold if a person has a severe latex allergy that person will also react to most rubber products.  Duh.  I spent the next hour trying to track down some Benedryl and ended up having to run out to my car to change shoes.

The boots were trying to kill me.

And that is not all.........................................................

The next morning my back hurt so bad I could not even get out of bed.  I never realized what back spasms were until that moment.  I was in severe pain, but I couldn't shift to alleviate it.  Finally I did stumble out of bed and did my best to go about my day.  That evening I even gave in and took a painkiller.  The Coach (who was concerned my back hurt so much he might not be able to go fishing) was asking me what I did to cause the pain and I couldn't figure it out.  Then I remembered trying to wrench the boot of death off my foot.  I must have pulled something.  I could barely move, much less run for about three days.

Aha.  It isn't bad enough the super cute boots were trying to kill me...when that didn't work they tried to paralyze me! 

Be on the look out for the boots of death!
(Did you get any life threatening Christmas gifts?)

Wedded Bliss

 Hey.  For the first time ever I am a guest blogger over at Mom Vs. the boys.   This is a charming blog.  It has all the good things, stories about sons, reviews, give aways, and even marshmallow snowmen.  What else could a chick need?  Head on over there while you are waiting for your cookies to burn bake. 


And now back to the show.



I have been trying to write a post to honor The Coach and my fifth anniversary. 

I considered writing about our first few dating experiences, but every time I try I remember my mom reads this blog.  Then I picture her hanging her head and muttering to herself, "I did the best I could with those kids."  I am able to picture this clearly because I have seen her do it before.  It's heartbreaking.  So in order not to offend Mom who skips kissing scenes in romance novels I decided to post the following conversation with The Coach.  I think it explains the romance in our marriage.

The Coach is often always gone doing coachery things and he misses happenings around house.  Missing stuff makes him nervous and sad, so he expects me to keep him clued in on everything that goes on in the house.  Nothing is too small.  His OCD/controlling perfectly normal self has been upset before over my failure to report squashing a spider, or maybe that the kids had to get their ball from the neighbor's yard. 

Here is a series of emails I got the other day after I forwarded a final exam review from one of Ty's teachers.

TC: Are you seriously sending this to me?

Me: I was just keeping you in the loop so I don't get in trouble for not informing you of things.  Crap!

TC:  Ha!

Me:  Yes.  Your OCD and control freakiness are hilarious.

TC: What would you do without my OCD?

Me:  Relax?  Drink less?   Your OCD is turning me into a wino.

TC: That is the first sign of alcoholism....blaming your problems on others.

Me: The second thing making me a wino is your judgementalness.

TC: Second sign of being an alcoholic...not listening to those who love you try to tell you that you are becoming an alcoholic.

Me: Hey. I am not an alcoholic.

       Alcoholics drink so much it harms their marriage. I drink to help our marriage.

TC: Third sign of an alcoholic...saying you're drinking it to make yourself or those around you feel better.

Me: Do you really think I am an alcoholic?

TC: Fourth sign is asking your spouse loaded questions

Me: Fine. I am an alcoholic. I can live with that.

TC: Fifth sign…….actually believing you are an alcoholic.

Me: Is the sixth sign no longer responding to your idiot spouse?

TC: I’m still responding to you!

Me: I have actual things to do.  Good bye.

TC: The sixth sign.............

Yes.  It is this kind of witty exchange that have made the past five years so wonderful.   

                                       (Engagement Pic.  Wedding album still packed.)

 

I love you, The Coach.  I know the sacrifices you made to marry me and my kids.   Not a lot of guys would have spent their early thirties that way.  (Yes babe, your early thirties are spent.)  I don't know what I would do without you...other than constantly lose my keys, my phone, my glasses, and my sense of humor.  I am so grateful to you have you around to nag me remind of important things.

Oh yeah and by the way. Yesterday the dog barked at a bird. I thought you would want to know.

Crud, my mom is still probably hanging her head thinking I drink a lot.  Mom, I don't drink a lot.) 

 

Decorating My Way

My last post was all about decorating artistically like my mom.
You may remember I am NOT an artist.  Proof.
(Take that as a warning!)

Since we are in the new house I had to find new places for our decor items.  I so proudly thought hanging wreaths on the banister was clever and original until I saw it on a hardware store ad.  Also my falling down the stairs while hanging it distracted from the cleverness.  Before I was even done tumbling The Coach bellowed, "Were you doing something stupid on the stairs?"  I swear I was just standing there.  Luckily the baby gate broke my momentum before I hit the hardwood.  I still had fantastic bruise on my bootier (That's French.)  I offered to show my family and all of the participants of the Turkey Dash, but I had no takers.  Scrooges.

These used to sit on my mantel, but since we have a honking TV there now courtesy of the last decor fight The Coach will ever win, I had to put them somewhere else.  On top of the fridge.  Doesn't everyone decorate the top of their fridge?

 All the characters in this nativity scene are looking around like, "What?  It wasn't me.  I didn't see anything."  Nice try.  I know one of them knows what happened to the Shepard's lamb.  It didn't just walk away by itself. (Mom would probably rearrange this so all the figures are looking at Baby Jesus.  Duh.)

Here are all our stockings.  I had to have my mom help me make them because I can never find seven different, but similar stockings at the store.  I wish I could say I now know how to make stockings, but I don't.  Also why would I even need to remember how to make stockings when my mom already knows?

These fish are permanent decor, but I added the hats which I think are hilarious.  So does Tayte.  Wasn't it nice of The Coach to haul the ladder out and humor me with this?

I purchased this so it isn't exactly creative or crafty, but I like it.  As a bonus my mom had some of the same type stuff she bought last year and I stole it took her up on her offer to let me have it.  I really like the "Believe" piece, but it's not just because I believed in Santa forever and cried when my mom told me the truth.  (Ok.  That IS why I like it.)

So...to wrap up decorating my way includes:
1. Bodily injury
2. Lost livestock
3. Sharing a sense of humor with a three year old.
4. Possibly traumatic childhood memories.

Top that, Mom.

If you are following from the hops please let me know so I can visit you.   Don't let my disrespect to my mom scare you.  

Stupid Things I Do

I do stupid things.  Repeatedly. 

I wonder why.  I look at my husband and other people and they don't seem to habitually do the same stupid things over and over.

For instance.  I trip.  A lot.  The Coach never trips over his own feet, or runs into doors and counters.  I have seen him trip like once in eight years.  What's with that? I am athletic.  (I am!) I constantly have bruises on my hips from running into desks while I am teaching.  (No we are not going to where my hips may be larger than the aisle.)

Also, EVERY time I go to get out of the shower I turn the faucet the wrong way.  So as I am wondering why the water is not going off I am scalding myself with hot water.  EVERY TIME.

Here is another thing.  I don't like to carry a purse. When I go in the grocery store I just grab my wallet and go in.  Well of course in the midst of juggling five kids and coupons and actual groceries after I check out I inevitably leave the wallet at the checkout or in the cart.  Then I don't notice it for a couple of days, because why would I need my wallet other than for groceries.  Certainly I don't need an i.d. for anything.  Then I have to call the grocery store and go get it.  (Oddly, they always have it.)

That's just dumb.  I should carry a purse, or better yet, have one of the kids carry the wallet.

I constantly underestimate the amount of time it takes to get to a place.  I am not late because I was behind.  I am late because I was hanging out at the house thinking it is only going to take ten minutes to get to a destination 20 miles away on i-10 at 5:00.  Duh.

And this - Every day at the end of my last class I pack up all the things I need to grade and get in the car and pick up four or five kids of my own and go home.  Then I lug the bag full of papers, and maps, and quizzes in the house and then I haul kids to sports and cook dinner and help with homework and collapse into an exhausted heap on the couch.  I grade maybe one single esasy before I fall asleep on the couch, drooling on the paper.  Then I wake up in the morning and lug the bag back to work and empty it out on my desk.  When will I learn that the best outcome of lugging all those papers home is that I will not lose any of them?



Why do I do stupid things?  I am not a stupid person.
Please make me feel better by sharing the stupid things you do!!

Frugal Novice

Smart and Trendy Moms

The Shakes - Illustrated Story

 I have been racking my alleged brain trying to think of a new marker story.  I was hoping for one that didn't involve a bloody injury.
Here is was I had.  ( I think calling it an "Illustrated Story" may have been overselling it a bit.)

 Ok.  I may have cried.  Just a little.

 17?  Who lets their kids go off to college at 17?

 Maybe we weren't so adult after all.  (Maybe I am still not.)

Maybe she uses a pillow and shuts her eyes now.  She is probably tired.  She has adorable twins!

I blame the pixie stix for not being able to find my very first college class.  Archery.  I didn't cry as I wandered the campus in the 110 degree heat.  Ok.  I did.  Just a little.

(Preeti is my best friend since the sixth grade.  We met when I borrowed a dime from her.  Since then there has only been a few years where we didn't live within a couple of miles of each other.  I have tried to write about her several times, but there just doesn't seem to be words to express her awesomeness.  Obviously she is a kind hearted soul.....she stuck with me through those glasses!)

What can you never eat again?  Ever.

I am hopping at these blogs today.  You go hop too!

Sippy Cup Mom

Smart and Trendy Moms

Toddler Awesome

Suspicions

What do you think of the latest portrait I painted?  Not bad, huh?

All right.  Fine.  You got me.  I did not paint this. My mom did.  (For real.  I am not lying this time.  She is an artist.)  This is a portrait of my nephew she won awards for a few years ago.  I could not possibly paint this which is why I have suspicions that I am adopted.

These are two random chicks on the beach.  HEY!  This picture used to be hanging in my house!  I thought I was robbed.  (Mom has since explained she took it to clean it.  Hello?  Can I have it back?  Ever?)

(More on my mom's burglar style of decorating some other time.)

This is her current work in progress.  It is a picture of Saige on the swing Mom and Dad had in the backyard of the house I grew up in.  (The swing was really in the yard...the pond is artistic license. They moved from there about two years ago.  I think this is going to turn out to be the best one!

It isn't finished yet.  Mom wants her to have actual fingers in the paining...and maybe even feet.  I don't know.

These are just a few examples of her work.  Enough to show why I expect to find out any day now that I am adopted.  Here is some of my artwork.  I give you...my picture of Saigie.

Isn't she darling?

These hops are darling too. Check them out.

 Smart and Trendy Moms

Toddler Awesome

Frugal Novice

Sippy Cup Mom

 

 Supermom

Whew.  That was a lot.  I need a nap now.  Who am I kidding?  I always need a nap.