Happy Birthday Dear Youngest!

Our youngest turned 9 yesterday! This photo was taken at about 2-years after her older sisters had worked their magic with face paint.

Our tradition on birthdays is to eat out, and for the past 3 years that's always been at Buca de Beppo. We love Buca - the crazy pope statues, the Italian family photos, etc. But what really brings us back is their fried calamari. I'm sure it comes in giant freezer packs and all their kitchen staff do is toss it in the hot oil but we just don't care. We could eat barrels of it.

All week she'd been asking for burgers on the campfire for her birthday. I was all good to go with that plan, even after a very long day at work. Let me tell you, my dogs were barkin! At the last minute she changed her mind and wanted Buca. I almost snapped her in two with my hug. I would have let Dick Cheney cook our food, I was so tired.

So we ate our fill of calamari, and linguine with seafood, and Penne Arabiatta. And finished with another family favorite - the Buca Birthday Cake. It's a giant slice of red velvet cake as big as our toaster oven. It would be hard to choose between the calamari and the cake if forced to pick a winner. All around another great family birthday. The best part? Buca leftovers for supper tonight!

How Come?

Often, I ponder. . . . .

1. How come the ranch dressing in restaurants tastes so much better than anything I can get at the grocery store?

2. Why does red licorice give me heartburn?

3. Why can't my family see the stuff piled up on the stairs?

4. Why does everything at the Minnesota State Fair cost $20?


5. Why am I always at the 4-way stop with the teenager who doesn't understand 4-way stops?

6. Why do I always ruin every nice shirt with one little spot of olive oil?

7. Why doesn't the government provide grants for kids' sports equipment and fees?

8. How come missing just one freakin day of flossing, and my gums go to pot?

9. Why does everyone eat in the living room, when the rule is NO eating in the living room?

10. How come American actors are drop dead beautiful while British actors are just so-so? For the record, I prefer the British ones - they're funnier.

11. I'm 46, and still have acne and oily skin. At what age, exactly, will I "grow out of it"?

12. When will Spring get here?

My Life as a Sitcom

Ever take a step back and realize your life is like a comedy, but without the laugh track? So I just provide an internal laugh track and chuckle my way through.

1. The CD/Radio in my van is stuck ON. There is no way on God's Green Earth I can turn that sucker off short of ripping it out of the dashboard. And the volume control has gone down too, so it's just loud enough to be annoying but not loud enough to actually HEAR what's being said. And we don't have the money right now to fix or replace it. I've discovered that if I put in a blank CD, at least it's silent.

2. Half of the dashboard lights in the same van have gone down. Think there's a connection? But I can still see most of the speedometer. And we've decided a pen light duct taped to the steering column will do when the whole enchilada breaks. No way will we pay someone to tear out the dashboard for diagnostics on a van with 130,000 miles on it.

3. One of my twins has become like the Tide stain commercial. I'm trying to tell her something and she's interrupting because she's 14 and therefore knows it ALL. Then 3 minutes later she's asking "when are we leaving?", "how do I do this?", and the whirlpool starts again.

4. Today I put in my first contact lens at exactly the same moment an undried soap bubble entered my eye socket. Much cursing ensued.

5. We own three cats, and I'm a dog person. And lately a stray has been hanging around who looks like Mao Tse Tung, so we call him Chairman Mao and the kids hiss at him.

Tempus Fugit

Time certainly flies, doesn't it?

I went to the grocery store today, and as I walked in I saw a Mom with two wee girls in tow. Those little ones were talking a mile a minute and pulling on Mom's coat while she wrestled them into the cart.

And there I was with my lovely long spring coat but no little hands tugging at the seams. My reading glasses were perched on my head so I could read the price labels. I pushed my cart all alone while browsing at my leisure. I held my remarkably small purse that didn't contain one diaper, one sippy cup, nor any pacifiers.

When did I become an old Mom? Yesterday I was taking little ones to preschool, buying wet wipes, and wrestling my own small girls into the grocery cart. Funny thing is I thought those days would never end. I thought I'd never drink an entire cup of hot coffee nor shop leisurely for groceries on my own. But suddenly those days are gone.

Don't get me wrong, there are many aspects of those days that I most certainly will NOT miss. Trying to control a toddler tantrum AND get the fixings for a few meals simultaneously is not something I wish to repeat. And believe me, being able to read the newspaper AND drink an entire cup of coffee is a treat I relish.

I just get wistful for my little girls.

SLAP on the forehead

My kids have the uncanny ability to suck me into activities I just KNOW I'll regret in some way.

Today for instance.

I'm returning to the land of the living after a nasty cold, the sun is shining, and the temps are rather pleasant. My older kids and the 8-year-old BEG me to take them hiking at the Carleton College Arboretum. It's one of my all-time-favorites haunts so I'm happy to oblige.

First we drive north of town to my personal favorite Arb entrance. But alas it's still too icy - about 10 feet in we realized we wouldn't be coming out without a broken wrist or twisted ankle. So we drive back to town to the common entrance with it's nicely paved path. During this entire car trip the kids are fighting over literally everything - dog poop, whether or not the neighbor girl can be called "calm", how to pronounce Arboretum, god help me EVERYTHING! Perhaps I should have driven back home, but such was my mania to get outside and breathe air that wasn't tainted with cold germs and other people's recent exhalations.

The older kids walked well ahead - that's fine - I understand their need to distance themselves from a Mom who dares to wear layers and a HAT for god's sake. I also had on mismatched gloves which just enhanced my eccentric appearance and inflated the embarrassing Mom factor.

The 8-year-old bounded up the path with zeal, and of course stopping every five feet to examine something. I know this form of nature observance has it's merits but I just wanted to MOVE. She pleaded to wander up the earthen paths but I stated "no, it's too muddy, it'll tear up the paths and we don't have waterproof boots on and you'll be miserable" and blah blah blah blather blather blather. She threw caution to the wind and headed up the muddy inclines.

Within 10 minutes can you guess what I was hearing in a miserable whiny voice?
"My boots are muddy!"
"These boots are letting the water in!"
"I'm hungry!" (I offered lunch earlier, she refused)
"My legs are sooooooo tired!"
"If Daddy were here, he'd carry me!"

It was a very, very loooooonnngggg walk back to the car. Somethings just can't be thoroughly enjoyed by adults with kids in tow. And somehow I always forget this, and keep taking them on outings that make me want to drink heavily within an hour. Like our train trip to downtown Minneapolis last summer. But this is what good mothers do, right? RIGHT??!??!?!?!

I'm a Celebrity . . . . . . kind of

I'm a guest blogger!! This woman, Sheletta Brundidge, has a great comedy routine on the Twin Cities public television station. I started commenting on her blog a few months ago. She's hysterical and I really enjoy her self-effacing wit. Just another Mom doin the Mom thing and trying to stay sane in a weak economy while dealing with winter, boogers, husbands, and dirty bathrooms.

My boring weekend, but I like it that way.

Dr. Monkey posted a blog about his fun weekend traveling, browsing antique shops and scanning old ads. He then made the mistake of asking about everyone else's weekend. You asked Dr. Monkey! Here's a run down of the most boring weekend on record, but I kind of like it that way.

I've had a bit too much drama in my life during the last 5 years, and boring has taken on a whole new meaning. Boring means no one has cancer. Boring means no one is in the hospital. Boring means my entire family is safe and sound. Boring and I have an entirely new relationship.

Saturday I took two daughters to Rochester, Minnesota. There we met my brother-in-law Aunt Mike, cousin #2 (happy birthday), and two of his friends for lunch at Culvers and to exchange a laptop. Culvers is an interesting midwest/southern fast food place. Home of the butter burger. Now those are two boring words I like to see together; butter and burger. They actually have a waiting line for tables.

That afternoon I did laundry while trying to establish a wireless connection with the new laptop. Only one chore was successful. I made boring leftovers for supper. The rest of the night had my youngest and I painting each other's toenails and watching the boring Harry Potter marathon on Disney Family channel. I also sprinkled rock salt on the very boring ice that's continuously forming on our front step.

Sunday morning twin #2 and I headed out for the very boring Volleyball Warehouse for a day-long tournament. Besides volleyball, this institution's main purpose is to separate me from my money. They charge admission and don't allow outside food or drink, so I am forced to purchase their expensive and unhealthy concession stand choices. Lately I've started stuffing my "purse" with my own food and drink. Screw em and their boring greedy ways.

Between daughter's volleyball games, which are not always boring, I read the very un-boring book "Stiff. The Curious Life of Human Cadavers". Our blogging pal MG, who thinks he's boring but isn't, recommended this book. It is a fabulous choice - really interesting in a morbid but very funny way.

Sunday night we were all tired and had the boring Sunday night blahs. We all, yes all 5 of us, sprawled on the couch watching Food Network - we love BBQ contest programs. We ate our usual Sunday night dinner of hubbys frozen pizza or popcorn, than all retired early.

Yes, boring, all weekend long. But I'll take it.

Things I May Not Miss

When my children are grown and gone, I know I'll miss so many things - it will be a heartache for sure. But some things, not so much. Older parents out there - set me straight if need be.

1. Hair brushes, hair bands, ponytail holders, and all other hair products in every nook and cranny.
2. Slumber parties
3. "Can I have a playdate over?"
4. Being interrupted in the bathroom every single time
5. Dirty socks, taken off at random and left there
6. Disney Channel & Nickelodeon
7. Constant bickering
8. Kids who play in public restrooms - seriously - if there's foamy soap there it'll take us an extra 5 minutes.
9. Having my office supplies disappear. What is it with girls and tape, highlighters, scissors, and staplers. Don't even get me STARTED on the post-it notes. And it does absolutely NO GOOD to get them their own. They'll always prefer mine.
10. Dishing out cash.
11. "Quit playing with those crutches . . . because you don't NEED to play with those crutches . . . I mean it!! Put them back in the basement . . . RIGHT NOW! . . . DID YOU HEAR ME??! . . . PUT THOSE CRUTCHES BACK RIGHT NOW!!!!"
Repeat 10 times.
12. Candyland & Chutes and Ladders. My Bad Mom admission: when our youngest was 3, I threw them away. When the twins were little, I stacked the Candyland deck with all the double squares and threw out all the single square cards.
13. The end-of-the-year elementary school talent show.

The Blue and the Gray

Get ready for a cranky rant - I have issues with February.

I really do like winter, I have nothing against winter, but lately it's been getting me down. February and early March are frankly hard for me - this is when I pay the fiddler to live in an otherwise spectacular climate.

This time of year in the Upper Midwest is just plain ugly. The snow is dirty, the ice is thick, folks are pale and cranky, my winter coat is dirty and smelly, the car is a pit, the skies are uniform iron gray, and the sun makes sporadic appearances. And I don't like Valentine's day. I resent being told by corporations that I need to express my affection by purchasing their crap. My husband and I have an alternative holiday - I make him a lasagna and he cleans out the van.

I used to have hopes that late winter would be a time to throw another log on the fire and curl up with a hot drink and a good book. But no, life goes on at the same pace. I still have to load groceries, haul kids, and sweep out the garage. Our schedule is just as full as ever. Only now we have to work around piles of dirty and frozen precipitation.

February - not my favorite.

Doing Jack Shit

I'm on my second day of doing diddley-squat. I haven't been called in to sub and I'm left to my own devices. Yesterday I slept in until 8:30, read the paper, did some laundry, sorted said laundry, and picked up the downstairs. Did I mention that my family is a bunch of pigs? I was gone all day Sunday at twin #1's volleyball tourney and the house went to pot. To top off my lazy spree we ordered pizza for dinner. We had collected some very fine coupons and got 4 pizzas for $10.

Today I'll do more never-ending laundry. May even make a batch of cookies. I'd go for a walk but the air hurts. Our high today will be about 8 above. This afternoon I plan to nestle on the sofa for about an hour of reading. For tomorrow its back to work.

This must be what it's like to be George W. Bush, except without the airplane rides to my next vacation.

If you're a Mom, or just play one on TV, you'll love the book pictured above.