In The Gutter

Afflictions & Snipers

2012-01-30T12:28:00.001Z

My poor daughter has a terrible condition.
For some reason, her arms, that can wrap around each side to touch her shoulder blades, aren't quite long enough to scratch her own arm "pips".
It's quite sad really, but she's fortunate to have so many in her family willing to drop everything when she needs those "pips" itched.

Surely this is from her Dad's side...

My side of the family is afflicted with the inability to read just one book at a time. One of the books taking over my bedside table is AMERICAN SNIPER by NAVY SEAL Chris Kyle.

I don't usually read war/guy-type books ~~because I like to live with my head in the sand~~ but I am really glad I was offered a chance to review this one.

This book and I got off to a rough start. I was having a hard time discerning the "voice" that I was reading. But after I set aside the literary snobbery I must have gained from my four years of university level English and just began reading the book for the value of the story telling, I started to enjoy the experiences shared by Kyle.
Chris Kyle is an incredibly focused, committed Navy Seal. Readers should go into this book remembering that and not expecting Twain, Hemingway or Shakespeare.
One reviewer best described his writing style as though the reader is sitting in the room with him while he tells his stories. Once I looked at it that way, it was hard to put it down. I could envision myself gathering around the kitchen table while Chris told his stories about being in Iraq.

AMERICAN SNIPER has also opened my eyes to things our troops deal with both away and home. I found myself looking at my husband differently since in all honesty, I sometimes see his time of deployment a holiday of sorts...
Even so, I know that Kyle has probably had to "water down" some of his stories for various reasons.

Kyle doesn't go into a lot of detail-except when describing weapons. The weapon sections alone would appeal to the testosterone holder in the family, while the broad overview of life as a SEAL manages to keep readers like myself still engaged.
It's a quick and easy read, perfect for anyone with an ounce of patriotism flowing through their veins.

I feel so lucky that I had a chance to read this!

SO,

let's share the love!

I am excited to connect the nice people over at William Morrow with one LUCKY reader to win his or her own free copy of AMERICAN SNIPER by Chris Kyle!!
Read a free excerpt of the book here at Scribd (if you want to see what I'm going on about).

Nothing crazy, nothing elaborate, just leave a comment and tell me what you're reading, or why you think American Sniper would look good in your home.

WAIT! Did I say ONE lucky reader? Make that two. Comment and clear off the bedside table...

I have to go scratch someone's arm pips.

Days Off

2012-01-14T12:12:00.001Z

After the usual hectic week, I looked forward to this weekend as one of the first FREE weekends in months. Next week begins with physiotherapy (thanks everyone who talked me into seeing the doctor about my arm pain) as well as the usual craziness, so I am determined to take a break for a couple of days.

Husband: "I thought we could drive to York."
Me, the usual campaigner for a York trip: "I was really hoping we could just do nothing this weekend."

Husband: "Oh, ok. Maybe I could make pancakes." (something he misses since we're always running everywhere).

I envisioned Saturday morning starting with pancakes-cooked by NOT ME and cleaned up by NOT ME.
Feeling generous, I offered to make my famous French Toast that takes 24 hours to prepare...
(doh! What have I done?!)

Knowing my toast suggestion just killed my Saturday morning, I suggest BBQing for the remaining meals. (Translation: husband cooking outside, clean up done by NOT ME).

He agrees. I make the shopping list.

Husband: "Hey, since we're not going anywhere, maybe we could invite some people over for dinner..."

I hope you all have a nice, restful weekend. If you need me, I'll be hiding in my room under the covers with a sock in my mouth.

2012-01-10T20:41:00.002Z

I have worn the same pair of jeans for three days.

It's not that I don't have other clothes to wear, it's just that the other jeans are bigger and if I wear them, I might be more comfortable...which could lead to bigger portions, or more late-night snacking.

Nothing says "Stop!" quite like a zipper stabbing the abdomen.

These jeans are my only size 12 skinny jeans (I know! Jumbo Shrimp- how do you call anything over a size 2 "skinny"?). They're my only hope (Obi Wan) against the barrage of Valentine's Day candy jumping off of the shelves into my cart.

Tonight after the boy's rugby game, we stopped off at the grocery for some pies-proper hot, meaty British food.
At the checkout there were left-over Cadbury "Scream" Eggs from Halloween, Christmas chocolate and Easter candy.
It's like they're all out to get me.
No one wants me to drop any of this baby weight (can I still call it "baby weight" when the "baby" is now 5?).

Trying to think carrots, dream broccoli, drink water. Must eat healthier!

I was set to eat more veggies until I saw this:

I always knew tomatoes couldn't be trusted.

A Winner!

2012-01-05T20:14:00.000Z

The winner of My Last Giveaway of 2011 (horrible title considering we drew the winner's name in January 2012) with a free gift of MyMemories Suite v3 Digital Scrapbooking software (which is AWESOME, I may add) is...

in a minute.

First, it's cold outside--well, in some parts of the world-- which is perfect chocolate-shipping weather. The "blue" months of Winter need chocolate. Okay, every month needs chocolate.
So, while I was considering a second giveaway of British chocolate (just for fun), I remembered a really great "swap" of sorts I participated in a couple of years ago called My Favorite Things. I would love to give credit to who ran it, but I'm old and apparently have permanent sleep deprivation brain damage.

If there's interest, I'd like to host a "Things that make me Happy" swap for February. Let me know what you think- either for or against.

Now,
the person whose 2012 is starting out as a lucky year is...

Congrats STACEY!!!

(Don't worry, I double checked her blog to make sure her name is public knowledge)

I wish I had more to give away. I am completely honest when I say I have thoroughly enjoyed my software and am very grateful that MyMemories let me be part of this.

My first real page was a photo swap (gee, no pressure!!), and everything used was from a free kit on the site called Christmas Lace by Digizines by Teri:

Remember there's still a coupon code STMMMS29382 to use to use when purchasing your own software ($39.97 less $10.00 with the code) and kits (varying in prices from as low as .99 less another $10.00 with that same code). Head out to their site and see all of the freebies you can pick up when you have the software.

Happy New Year Stacey and thank you to everyone who came by to participate.

Things Will Be Different

2012-01-01T15:42:00.000Z

BuhBye 2011!
It wasn't all bad, but the last few months of it overshadowed the rest.

Only a few know of the tragedy that hit our family just before the Husband came home from his deployment, but so the rest of you don't think I'm Debbie Downer all of the time, I thought it was time to share.

My MIL became a widow. She was in the process of becoming a divorcee (with our blessing) when her husband shot and killed himself.

Suicide is a nasty business, and I've always felt that it's truly sad when someone feels so lost that they see no other options but to end their life, but this wasn't just any suicide. It was retaliation.

He timed it in a way to hurt her the most. He had given the titles and keys to 40+ vehicles (he restored cars) away. He had run up quite a bit of debt in the 6 weeks she was away at her sister's; stopped making car payments, the mortgage and paying utilities. Without those cars, she would have no way to gather the money she needed to pay the debts.

That sick man knew all of this while he sat at her kitchen table-as she cooked his breakfast-with a gun in his pocket.

We can't know why he didn't shoot her first (there was a discarded fax she found afterwards with details he would need to collect insurance after her death). Maybe she's alive because she ran screaming from the house the minute he lifted the gun. Maybe it was because she had brought a friend along when she came back to the house that morning and he didn't want to leave three bodies in the house. Maybe because he decided that leaving her behind would punish her far more than killing her.

My MIL doesn't get to be a grieving widow because instead, she has to be a battling warrior against a nasty family that climbed out of their holes to blame her for his death. They're the ones holding the titles and his belongings, shouldn't THEY have seen his sudden generousity as an obvious sign of suicide?
These nasty people have held fundraisers (for what? My MIL paid all of the death-related expenses) and shown up in large groups with car trailers to remove the cars that now sit in probate. After being turned away by a sheriff, they have spread the word that it would be less complicated if my MIL who is alone, could be "removed" from the scenario.

We are thousands of miles away...

We will now have to take care of my MIL decades sooner than we expected, but I'm wholeheartedly ok with that because I'm so glad we still have her around to take care of.

So yes, 2011 won't be the year that I look back on with fondness, but it gives me great hope for 2012- no where to go but up, right?

My goals for this year are:

*Do something creative every day. I considered the 365 Photo challenge, but think any creative project is less confining.
*I'm also going to be nice to me and quit putting myself last.
*I am going to travel this beautiful country like a mad woman. Only 18 months left and they'll make me leave the UK. Feel free to offer up suggestions of where you would visit if you were here.

Happy New Year everyone! What are you going to do to make 2012 different from the rest?

Hiding While the Clock Strikes

2011-12-31T19:56:00.000Z

Shhh, none of them know where I am.

I know I should be celebrating and toasting the year that was 2011,
but I'm actually feeling a little more like, "Hey, 2011! Don't let the door hit you on your way out!".

So, they're in the kitchen eating really greasy food and laughing over who can make the most annoying sounds and I'm here with you. Yes, one really can have too much family togetherness. Please tell me about your exciting plans so that I can live a little!

Last Giveaway of 2011!!

2011-12-28T17:08:00.001Z

The sneaky, hidden pieces of broken ornaments are still littering corners of the living room; the Christmas DVDs are in all of the wrong cases and any chance of removing the red food coloring (used by a certain cookie chef) from my white counter top diminishes each day...

so it's a perfect time to scrapbook, right?!

My family probably doesn't agree either, but considering the huge production we all (as in you and me, not as in my kids, husband and I) just pulled off, I think we (as in you and I) deserve a break.

I'm not a digital scrapbooker.

I claim to be a traditional cropper because of the tactile gratification to be had working with textured papers and the satisfaction (stress release) obtained from smashing out wonderful cutter shapes- leaving bits of paper strewn from one room to the next...

but the truth is,

I'm scared of technology. terrified.

I just don't understand how people make these beautiful, creative pages without pulling out a pair of pinking shears and gobs of sticky dots.

Get thee behind me, Fear! because

MyMemories digital scrapbooking software has changed everything.

Looky what an average technophobe like me can create in just a few minutes:

Are you proud? me too! This literally took me only minutes! (Less time than it's taken me to compose this post, that's for sure). And there's no glue in my hair or glitter on the carpet. I don't have to wind the few bits of ribbon back up or...It was SO easy! Oh dear, say goodbye to me now kids.

I can't be the only one neglecting my home and children, so it's share time...(It's been a long time since I was so excited about a new product that I couldn't wear on my feet, so I hope this is something you'll be eager to try.)

If you want to give this a try for yourself, just visit the MyMemories website and

use this code STMMMS29382 to get a $10 discount off the purchase of the My Memories Suite v3 digital scrapbook software and a $10 coupon for the MyMemories store - a $20 value!

Better yet, visit MyMemories, choose your favorite digital paper pack or layout, and then come back and tell me about it. You could WIN your very OWN MyMemories Suite v3 software **FREE**!!

What, you want more chances to win?

Tell your friends and have them mention that you sent them for an additional entry. Link to FB, Twitter, or follow the MyMemories Blog through your blog, twitter or FB and receive even more entries.

FINE PRINT -aka really small font declaring important details:

*Not a scrapbooker? There's photo books and calendars for future gift giving, and for the price of FREE, how could you resist?
*Anyone can win, I don't care if you live in Timbuktu-- the software is downloadable AND Mac compatible (yes, Windows too).
*Contest ends January 5th, 2012 8.00am GMT (in commemoration of my children going back to school so that I can do some digital albums!)
*You can share the $20.00 discount code with anyone, but the winner of the free MyMemories Suite v3 digital software will receive their code after the contest closes.

A video to show how easy it really is:

Good luck!

Great British Advertising- Christmas

2011-12-15T07:58:00.000Z

What I love about England, reason 5,022:

The recycling of adverts and celebrities. There's no need to spend thousands on new production staff when you can just reuse the same commercials year after year. If that doesn't appeal, use BITS of old commercials to make them new.

This little blue alien family has become a favourite in our house: (play it a few times and see if you can get it out of your head)

Another way to use The Snowman video:

And the sentimental:

I LOVE this place!!

One Step Forward...

2011-12-12T11:15:00.001Z

I am not making, sending (or grieving over) Christmas cards this year.

Whew! That felt great to say.

Helping the kids with their 60 classmate cards was enough.

So, the huge box of ridiculousness I have saved over the year (recycled cards, cute things cut out for embellishments and wooden stamps) can take their guilt-mongering bits back into the Rubbermaid container they crept out of and go back to the garage where they should have stayed.

There is no family portrait, despite my researching local photographers and venues in November. Our calender was too full.

And yes, I really might just skip the baking as well thankyouverymuch.

Time for a little holiday downsizing! Some things are just going to have to go this year and it's either the excess or my sanity.

Do you hear the empowerment?

Now I'm off to create the bus-sized hamper I volunteered to do for one of the boys' football Christmas parties. I am a sucker for direct eye contact from the manager pleading, "We still don't have anyone to make this years' hamper..."*

Somebody please sew my lips together and tie down my stupid arm!!

*Addendum: Sorry all, I've been living over here for too long-I forget what's American and what's British anymore. A hamper is like a basket or box filled with goodies. They usually raffle them off. I'm NOT filling the thing, only making the wrapped box for everything to go into. However, I have issues and will expect it to be perfect... thus my problem volunteering for things like this.

Another Christmas Nativity

2011-12-07T20:37:00.001Z

Tomorrow my little tiny baby, born the same year my first school Nativity-aged child performed as a shepherd, will be appearing on stage as an angel.
She's five already! Where does the time go?

I've been especially broody this last couple of weeks-not necessarily to hold an infant in my arms again, but to watch giggling, mischievous toddler-aged boys in action. (I'm the gray-haired lady in the BX watching your children act up, with a smile ladies).

But I digress.

Christmas is really important to our family. We make a big deal about telling and retelling the story of the birth of Christ. Tonight at the dinner table Miss Ky's brothers asked her about her play.

Them: "What's it about Miss Ky?"

Her: "It's about Jesus" (I'm appreciating that she didn't finish the sentence with "Duh" even though her tone inferred it)

Them: "What does Jesus do?"

Her: "He goes to sleep".

Not exactly the same way I remember the story, but maybe tomorrow it will be a little clearer...

Because You Will Make the Same Mistakes Next Year

2011-12-05T07:56:00.001Z

Dear 2012 Me,

Fight all urges to be helpful. When extended family asks you to give them an idea for Christmas gifts for the kids,
do not do it!
Do not listen carefully to every reaction the kids have in the store or to the advertising between shows. Do not scour the web pages of places like Toys-R-Us and Amazon for things you know the kids will like.
And especially do not take the time to make lists for each child of various ideas in different prices ranges to be emailed or read off over the phone.

They don't really want those lists!

Half of the family will just get what they want to anyway and the other half will just contact you a couple of weeks later--multiple times-- to ask you to tell them again, and then they will just get what they want to anyway.
Please remember: Your family members are incapable of reading through older emails or phone texts to read what you painstakingly compiled, so don't do it!

Please trust me on this. You do it every year. This year you have this warning, heed it.

However, with the world getting ready to end and all, at least this is the last year you have to fend off those relatives.

P/S Don't forget to stock up on mince pies-- I hear they are THE party food for the End of the World parties.

Too Late to 'Pologize

2011-11-29T14:28:00.000Z

There's an emotionally heavy post sitting in my drafts folder, but it's the holiday season and I'm not sure I want to share this part of my life yet. Oooooh, teaser...
not so much-it's in regards to the "ugly" death I referred to in a past post.

Instead,

let's play "Guess-what- these-stories-have- in-common", shall we?

Story 1

When I go out to buy groceries, I usually bring home special treats for the hubby and I to share...

in front of the football game (Hey, it can't all be romance, can it?).
The latest treat was white chocolate and raspberry cookies. I get ~~pudgy~~ excited with these fun little finds.

Only, when I got home, the husband was stuck in front of his computer doing his online classes so I sat alone in the living room eating my cookie. ~~Becoming pudgy all by myself.~~

The next day when I reminded him about his cookie sitting in the package, this is what he found.

This wasn't me! Those are kid teeth prints!! How do they eat half of a cookie, put it back in the package and actually think they won't be found out?
At least Hubby won't gain any weight.

Story 2

We took the kids to Wembley Stadium to see England V Spain.

First of all, Wembley is NOT where they play tennis, that's Wimbledon and it's here as well, but we went to see football, not tennis. We got to see a lot of the Barcelona players (only the BEST team in the world!) and it was SO cool.

It's sad to say that when entering the stadium I had that, "I can't believe I'm actually here!" feeling I got the first time I went to Conference in Salt Lake City. Probably best not to compare since so many people already think footy has become my golden calf.

Because our journey to the stadium was fraught with transport disasters, we made our kids eat dinner after the game and the poor little guys had to wait an hour just for a table. They were good sports. Have I mentioned I have great kids?
After 10 pm we hoped that the crowds would be thinned out on the tube. It might have been if the route hadn't been plagued by construction and diversions.

At one point we had to hop on a double-decker bus to get us to the tube station where our car was parked, but that bus broke down, was eventually revived but then we were left driving with no lights (the children were watching out the front window giggling, "We're gonna die!"). Finally the bus had to stop after sideswiping a car only a mile from where our car was parked.
Our parking place expired at midnight and we pulled out with five minutes to spare. The kids trudged zombie-like to their beds at 2.30am.

Crazy thing is, we're doing this all again when the Olympics come to London.
(warning to anyone wanting to travel on any kind of public transport during that time-- we will be out there with our little black cloud!)

The answer to what these stories have in common:

Nothing.

I'm just busy adjusting to having the Hubby back, surviving the holidays and dealing with some traumatic stuff--that I will share eventually--so please forgive me for not acknowledging comments from the last 6-8 weeks. I have loved hearing from you and my inbox has been what's kept me putting one foot in front of the other.

Thank you!

Invitiation to My Favourite Troll

2011-11-17T10:51:00.000Z

What a lucky blogger am I!

I'm sure several of you have received the attention of a certain troll who seems to be overly biased against one certain gender from one particular nation (I will not give him the satisfaction of directing you to his links or blog).
As I have had several opportunities to laugh at this poor, opinionated and ignorant oxygen waster, I thought I'd share a few highlights for those of you so unlucky to have been skipped by his tirade.

This person claims that a certain gender from one particular nation are "most likely to cheat on you, to divorce you, to get fat, to steal half of your money in the divorce courts, don't know how to cook or clean, don't want to have children, etc. "

Extremely silly to target this blogger who blogs about her own mini-nation she has given birth to; has never cheated, never stolen from or divorced her spouse, is cleaning and cooking obsessed...did you say fat? Let's face it, how many really passionate skinny cooks do you know?

He also claims these same beings are "immature, selfish, extremely arrogant and self-centered, mentally unstable, irresponsible, and highly unchaste."

Well. Okay then. I'll accept a few of those qualities and raise you: nurturing, considerate, caring, self-less, dedicated, creative, light-hearted in a sarcastic way...

Highly unchaste? Yikes. Me thinks me smells someone scorned...

To be fair, anyone who has a blog could be accused of being a little bit of self-centered, but a blog is usually a journal of sorts to document our lives- a little hard to leave ourselves out of it.
Credit to you Mr. Anon, you do manage to beat your chest about all of a (certain gender from a particular nation)'s flaws without once mentioning yourself. Well done you!

As for the rest, that is funny stuff.

This Anonymous ranter then goes on to list several statistics (severely lacking citations) like:

Tens of millions of (certain gender belonging to a particular nation) have had their lives completely destroyed by (certain gender belonging to a particular nation) through the following crimes:

1. False rape accusations (it has been proven that up to 80 percent of rape accusations are FALSE)

2. False DV charges (same as above)

3. Financial RAPE of (particular gender) in divorce courts

4. Emotional destruction of (particular gender) by ex-(spouses) who have stolen their children from them and forbidden contact

5. Divorced (pathetic creatures) who commit suicide as a result

Unfortunately his rants continue in a babbling manner, so he loses all credibilty in his otherwise already weak argument.

As one of the "Over 50 percent of (certain gender from a particular nation) (who is) single, without a (partner of the opposite gender or spouse) (doomed to) grow old living alone with their 10 cats."

--wait, I'm not single and I don't have a cat--

As someone who fails miserably to fit your description, I invite you to read through my blog to see who I really am and then determine whether I would be interested in your diatribe.

Better yet,

I'm inviting you Mr. Anonymous Troll, to guest blog here, In the Gutter.
But to do so, you will be required to identify yourself and not claim the cowardly anonymous identity.
If you feel so strongly about your subject, then stand up and proclaim it like (the certain gender) you claim to be.
You must also be willing to receive comments from people even if they don't agree with you.

I think that's pretty fair considering it's MY blog and I belong to the particular selfish, self-centered, immature and arrogant gender of which you want to recruit haters towards.

By The Time You Read This...

2011-11-04T03:00:00.000Z

To get us through this most recent deployment, I vowed to blog.

My intentions were to give an honest, candid account of the struggles, challenges and triumphs we spouses that are left behind experience when our loved-one goes into the desert, but instead...

I moved house. I went from BIG to not-quite-as-big and left behind furniture. You know, sofas, bookshelves, built-in cupboards to, well, empty. It's incredibly hard to put things away when there's not a place to put them.

The children started school...
and needed an incredible amount of clothing, shoes, hair appointments and supplies.

Those same children all began their new football season which requires and hour and a half each on a football pitch for training and then the weekend is filled with tournaments and league matches.

Our professional team began a new football season in the Premiere League which means more TV coverage. YAY.

I became severely addicted to TV. All of my best friends either live in my computer or in the TV now.

The oldest son graduated AF Tech School and he and his new wife moved to their first duty station.

We had a death in the family. A really bad, really ugly death that will probably plague us for months to come.

I haven't lost weight, firmed up, grown my hair (unless you count leg hair which has done quite well actually) or surgically corrected anything.

So, there have been very few posts about this deployment...
but if you think this is bad, you should see the journal they gave us at our pre-deployment briefing.

COMPLETELY BLANK.

Anyway, if you are doubting the news stations reporting that the U.S. is pulling out of Iraq, don't.

We have living proof.

HE'S HOME!!!! TWO months early!!

Christmas came early to The Gutter this year...

and Halloween was complete.

So by the time you read this,
he'll be neck deep in his "honey do" lists and I'll be looking through a garage full of unmarked boxes for the Christmas decorations. Don't pity him, he's got the easier job...

She Says I Says

2011-10-22T17:09:00.000+01:00

She says, "I can fix my own hair"

I says, "Not today you don't".

She says, "I fixed my hair for the party".

I says (yes, I know this is not grammatically correct), "Fine, but I pick the clothes." The face paint was a bonus.

She says, "I'm ready to go!"

Luckily we're not actually going anywhere.

My style choices...

Her style choices

I'm accutely aware that one day she will be stronger than me. I says, "Heaven help her when she hits the teenage years!"

Just Roll With It

2011-10-18T20:19:00.000+01:00

School children fight over my packed lunches. They queue for a possible glimpse of what I may have created on the day. It's distracting for my poor children who just want to eat their healthy, delicious lunch.

Not so much.

In truth, it's taken us years to come up with a lunch that doesn't come home and hide itself for a rather unpleasant discovery weeks later. Peanut butter and jam is NOT a delicacy in this country and Gogurts are enough to elicit lunch-time harrassment.
My kids just want to fit in and I want them to eat, so I have done my best to make lunches that don't scream "AMERICAN AT THE TABLE!".

The walking skeleton we call A1 has recently insisted that all sandwiches be made on rolls, not sliced bread, because "That's what everyone else brings". It's cheap, less waste, so I caved.

On Sunday, I realized that we had no bread, no rolls for Monday's lunch.

I'm adamant we don't shop on Sunday, which is ironic considering what all we do on the day (but that's my choice that affects me, not some poor employee that's required to work on the day because business is hopping).
This creates a problem in a country that strictly oversees what preservatives goes into foods-- no bread that lasts three weeks over here. You may get three days, if you move it often and keep your house below 62 degrees.
That means I shop on Saturday for Monday's lunch. But, other people schedule birthday parties, football matches and then there's lie-ins (haha) on Saturday, so sometimes I ~~can't drag myself~~ forget to shop.

Everyone got a hot dinner on Monday.
That little oversight cost me £8.40 ($13.20)!!

Later in the evening, the little ones and I sat on the side of a football pitch, in the cold and in the wind for an hour and a half of training. An hour and a half in the cold is just long enough to make me forget I needed to stop off to buy bread on the way home.

Because of that mistake, today I got up with the roosters and BAKED crusty rolls from scratch (or really close to it- prepackaged rolls from the freezer are scratch, right?).
I pulled the hot, delicious little treasures from the oven and let them cool to just the right temperature. Stacked with thin-sliced roast beef and wrapped loosely to preserve the crustiness of the roll, I knew I had redeemed my error.

What a Mom! What a yummy treat!

It was after school, as I was distributing chores, Skeleton Boy announces:

"I didn't really eat my roll. I sold it".

I'm going to sell him, that's what I'm going to do...

Dysfunctional Fruit (Great British TV)

2011-10-14T08:07:00.001+01:00

Blogging vs Life

2011-10-13T14:24:00.000+01:00

Hello? (tap tap) Is this thing working?

There's a perfectly good reason for a silent blog. When I discover what it is, I'll share it with you.
I'm not sure where all of my blogging time has gone. I live a typically average, boringly-common day. All of my kids are now in school, so I should be overwhelmed with free time.

Maybe I should keep a log and see where my time goes...

Me, yesterday: "Does everybody have everything they need for tomorrow?" "J2, Rugby gear? A1, homework? A2, book?" etc... (repeated several times from 4.00 to bedtime)

Me again at bedtime: "Does everyone have everything--a full uniform?"

All answer "yes".

Look at all of that spare time! Such efficient, organized children!

This morning, J2 says, "Did you wash my Rugby top?" (huh?! What Rugby top? The one under your bed???)

A1 is walking around with a blank piece of paper asking if we have any photos... at 8.01. Bus picks up at 8.05.
Me, unpleasantly: "No way! You don't have time for that now! I asked you over and over yesterd..."

he folds the paper in half and rips it.

Me, shouting, because it's what I excel at: "What are you doing???"

Him: "It doesn't have anything on it"

Me: "It's a perfectly good piece of paper--MY computer paper!"

so he rips it again, and then slams the kitchen door.

I resist the urge to feed him to lions. Only because there are none in the immediate vicinity.

A1 leaves for school in a foul mood, because his mother wouldn't let him do his homework.

Miss Ky now can't find a white uniform shirt.

So, I go out to the garage (where we now have to keep the dryer) for a white shirt and think, "It's time to put up my Great Pumpkin sign that Jenni hand painted just for me" (I keep it hanging on a hook inside the garage just waiting for the "Halloween is near!" clearance). This is what greets me in the garage:

??? huh ???

This was NOT here when the homeowner proudly showed me all of his handy work building this garage

someone "helped" with the color

It's not even 8.30 am yet.

I could also have blogged during that first week after we moved in with all of the spare time I have. I could have given daily reports and informative advice such as:

Never leave a hand towel hanging partially out of a sink if you are going to leave the tap on. The towel acts as a siphon and the bathroom floor will soon be soaked. Well, maybe not "soon" but if one leaves the tap on undiscovered say, all night long, there could be a mess.

and golden advice such as:

Never stack precious photo albums in a cardboard box while moving, but most importantly, don't put that cardboard box in a place where children might flood an upstairs bathroom and water could possibly come through the floor/ceiling into that box. And just a heads-up, page protectors are absolutely NO GOOD when the scrapbook albums are in standing water.

AND:

Never vacuum dead wasps. They stink. For a long time. Maybe even forever.

If you tell children, "Oh, how lovely, we have an apple tree. One day I will make an apple pie..."

while you are moving in...

They will pick all of the apples off of the tree for you.

While you are moving in.

Maybe I watch too much TV. Maybe that's where my blogging time went.
I finally watched an episode of The Middle. It was the one where Frankie (Patricia Heaton) accidentally eats toenail clippings and runs away from home.

I get it.

And it wouldn't take a Dorrito bag containing toenails to push me to it either... usually a typically average morning like today would suffice.

Bossy Me

2011-09-14T16:13:00.000+01:00

Our British Primary school doesn't stress the small stuff.
Like spelling. I have a sneaky suspicion it's not just our school either.
The instruction I was given was to let my boy "go with it" phonetically so that his thought process wouldn't be hampered.

I agreed when my little guy started Reception, but only because I thought that after the kids settled in and continued moving up in grades, at some point, SOMEONE would begin fine-tuning the spelling.

Nope.

This morning as the little man was tending to his dinner money envelope, we had to have a lesson on "bossy e's".

"Sweetie, what does this 'bossy 'e' ' tell you about this word?" I covered the second half of the word he had scribbled.

"To say 'dine'".

"Right. So with only one 'n', you are telling the teacher that there is money in this envelope to buy you a 'hot diner'. Do you know what a 'diner' is?"

We both agreed that he didn't want to purchase a diner, hot or not.

Is it wrong that a few hours later I burst out laughing when finding this (the older child's discarded homework rough draft)?

I think I've come a long way in accepting different music styles, but I'm not sure I would want to buy any of this guy's stuff.

Ghosts, Spirits, Fairies and Elves...Oh My!

2011-09-01T11:20:00.002+01:00

Dear Practical Joker,

Since I have been unable to identify what you are,
I'm not sure how to bargain with you.
I could leave bowls of sugar or shiny coins, but I don't imagine that if you are a ghost, those things will appeal to you much.

Whoever you are, please return my computerized car key that will cost us so much to replace, along with my dry erase markers, the Wii power cord and J2's training kit and birthday card from Norwich City.

Brian Froud (my favorite Faeries artist)

The other things you have hidden with glee haven't been such a problem, but for your continued enjoyment we will happily continue to tear things apart looking for them.

Thank you,

Your new roommate.

Postcards From the Crazy House

2011-08-22T10:43:00.000+01:00

Dear Friends,

Having a great time, wish you were here. REALLY wish you were here. Whose idea was this move anyway?!

Anywho, this is the view from my kitchen door. Not too shabby, right?

Miss Ky is adjusting, although I didn't expect any less since she has been asking to move from the first week we settled into the old house. She flitted by me the first night, singsonging, "I LOVE this house--by the way, where's the toilet?"

But her quote for the week is, "According to my calculation, where are the brothers?"
The school has their work cut out for them in September.

I've emptied three boxes this morning. Nothing got put away, I just emptied the boxes. It's a start!
I have THE BEST BROADBAND EVER!! No more dial-up speed at broadband prices!

And,

just for the record, I really don't care if TV rots brains. Three viewings of Rio, one viewing of Diary of a Wimpy Kid and Sponge Bob have allowed me to get my kitchen unpacked.

Rotten brains, but fed tummies. Even trade-off.

Hope you are well, we'll write soon!

Never Volunteer To Review Something One Knows Nothing About

2011-08-08T00:05:00.000+01:00

I spend a lot of time sitting on the edge of damp football pitches for training.
I used to take a book, but soon realized that there is no way Miss Ky is going to ever let me read while she's still breathing.

So I sit. For hours.

Sometimes other parents talk to me. fools
Recently a man asked how I like living here, ~~which was a huge big mistake as I may have bored him professing my undying love for a country that will kick me out of it's company with no remorse in only two years~~ and I may have mentioned I like the place.

He then asked me how I liked the schools.

This question was tougher.

The little guys had a rough year when a good portion of the staff was off sick for a major chunk of time; a head teacher was forced to retire early due to his illness and then there was the death of his replacement over the Christmas break. That school normally gets a glowing report from me, but there were some cracks that many kids understandably fell through.

So, instead, I expounded on how thrilled we were by the variety of options the high school offered (it's better than some colleges I've seen).

The downside, I mentioned, was how I found it odd that my child never came home with homework (he agreed). The man got the queerest look on his face when I said that I had never had any communication or reports except at the end of each term.
He confessed that as a teacher, he was shocked that any high school would not be sending home regular reports.

The next week, my second child going into that same school had his Welcome Tour.
His new Form Teacher (Form is like a Home Room) proudly told all of us bright-eyed parents that all communication with the school takes place in the homework diary...

hmmmmm.....

When I got home, a certain 12 year-old had his backpack searched and sure enough, there was his homework diary (which I DID know about, but had never communicated in).
Every written page for every school day had MY signature on it.

Only, it looked nothing like MY signature and resembled something written by an adolescent.

Somebody has some eshplainin' to do...

...make that TWO somebodies since apparently I am going to have to recall my recent report on our high school.

My head has been freed from the sand pit I must have buried it in and with two kids at that school this year, I think I just found my reading material for this year's hours and hours of football training...

It All Started...

2011-08-03T23:33:00.000+01:00

...with an unidentifiable substance on the bathroom floor.

I cleaned the bathroom, walls-to-floor and told the kids, "Off limits! Never enter this bathroom again for as long as we live here!"

SIX HOURS later, I could make the same demand for most rooms of the house.

Note to self:

If Estate Agent phones to say someone wants to come to look at your house, agree, but make sure they know that you are moving and the house reflects that.
(which I did)
THEN, do NOT hang up the phone and clean places like behind dressers and underneath the beds
(also, which I did)
because NO one looking for a house to rent cares if you vacuumed behind the fridge before they came over.

In my defense, I will be going to bed tonight less stressed than I have been in weeks. My house smells fantastic. The pool and garden look good, all of the kids' rooms are spotless and I have a book to read while listening to the rain fall outside my window.

The bad news is...

They're not coming until 4pm. The unidentifiable substance offender still lives here.

How will I keep the house clean until then?

Olympic Papoose Board comes to mind...

Priorities

2011-07-30T22:34:00.001+01:00

I switched back to aluminum. I don't care if my body can hold up artwork on my refrigerator like a magnet, I don't want to stink. Yesterday, when I went to hug a friend goodbye, there was a tiny voice in my head shouting, "And you know you smell good too!"

Priorities.

Tonight, between dish washing, vacuuming, taking out the garbage and the recycling, I slipped into the computer room...
to look at the Tim Holtz site which I try to do at least once a day.
My right arm, extended over the desk, is numb and tingly. So, I scoot the chair closer to the keyboard. No good. I draw my arm back, lift it over my head and wiggle my fingers. I try again to put my hand back on the keyboard, but OW! So I lift it up and do some shoulder rolls.

Now before you start planning my funeral, I have had this issue with my arm for some time. Sometimes I wake up in the night and think it's surely the moment when I go to the doctor and just ask them to remove this lump that I apparently sleep on regularly. The downside to a tempurpedic mattress? When you sleep heavy, parts of your body get squished.

After the shoulder rolls and an acknowledgement that maybe I've done too much today, I reach again for the keyboard... OW! Dont. care. must. see. new... Tim Holtz sizzix dies...

Priorities.

Today, we had a tea party. With real tea.*
The kids giggled, "It's water isn't it!"
"Nope, real tea".
"It's hot chocolate!"
"Nope, real tea".

Their little faces were billboards for confusion.
It was herb tea. THE BEST HERB TEA I HAVE EVER FOUND!! And if I was the type to regress, I would really expound on this incredibly yummy thing I have found...

Anyway, I made everyone come to the table dressed for tea. The result was interesting...

You would think I could have served scones with cream or cucumber sandwiches, but there's leftovers to be eaten and no Husband to take care of that department for us, so Sloppy Joe tea it was.

We also had grapes.
The kids like to stuff them up under their upper lip and entertain each other with their ape-like faces.

I am a firm believer in playing with your food at the table-- great conversations come from it.

The little guy shouts, "Look, J2 already has a mustache, you can see it!"
We all giggle and go on with our conversation and he adds,
"I'm going to have a mustache too. I want a French one".

We really laughed over that, until I googled it. I guess there is a French mustache:

Zazzle image

So, instead of packing...

or finishing the laundry...

or preparing for the day tomorrow,

I grant my little guy's wish.

Priorities.

*Mormon moms don't serve tea...

especially if there's Dr. Pepper in the house!
Just joking!

Reminds me of another great British advert:

Au Natural

2011-07-22T22:45:00.001+01:00

Does going "natural" mean I have to stink?
Does the avoidance of aluminum (or aluminium for my British friends) under my arms mean that I am doomed to clear a room when I reach for something high?

I think this green/healthy thing is getting old. I mean really, who wants to live longer if we can't stand the smell of one another?

House update:

We submitted an offer, it was accepted. (yay)

We start our move in three weeks, will be out of this house in 5 weeks. (yikes)

The only hold up at the moment is trying to track down our current landlord so that he can verify that
we have paid in full and on time. He's changed his numbers and living address and didn't bother to tell us. (of course)

While trying to get the house ready for inspection, a large tree fell down in the back yard this morning. (I made the mistake of asking, "What else can happen today?")

*Speaking of great times to be had by all, yesterday, a rabbit committed suicide by throwing itself with extreme force into the grill of our 1-month old vehicle. It smashed through the plastic grill. I have spared you the photos of my hero 12-year old son/aka "man-of-the-house" trying to extract it. You're welcome.

*Our Norwich City season tickets came-- correction, two came, and the request to come in person to the ticketing office with proof of my children's ages came. The office is 35 minutes from here.

*There was a notice in my military post office box telling me to fill out a form and include a set of the Husband's military orders within a specific time or they will change the combination to the lock. The box is 45 minutes from here.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg called Murphy's Military Law (when the husband deploys, everything will break, or generally just go south).

School FINALLY let out today, so technically, summer has begun. I am wearing a jacket as I type, because I have been chilled all day. I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England I love England...

Did anyone see this Bronx Zoo Cobra's Tweet?

@BronxZoosCobra Bronx Zoo's Cobra

I rllaey hpoe taht Hrary Peottr wnis bset mvoie tnogiht at the MTV Mvoie Arawds! #ParseltongueTweet #MTVMovieAwards

6 Jun via web

My stressed-out, naturally smelly arm pits and I will be gracing a son's football tournament tomorrow, what are you doing for your weekend?

Migration Season

2011-07-19T22:41:00.002+01:00

Well,

can I just say that other than Kat, who threw herself in front of me pleading for rationality, for the most part the rest of you were pretty mild. So with that said...

drum roll please...

(one-armed drum roll like Def Leppard's Rick Allen if you like)...

I am officially moving!

Well, not officially officially- the Mrs. Future Landlord was quite pleased with us and our offer to ensconce ourselves in her beautiful home, but since she and Mr. Future Landlord both have to sign on the dotted line, she still needs to present it to him.
I think he's off haggis hunting in Scotland or something, so hopefully tomorrow I will know if I am officially officially moving house by myself while my husband sits in the hot desert watching Haji dvds.

So that's it. Feel free to call the authorities and have me declared insane.
But first, have a look at this...
(and btw, this isn't a "grass is greener" scenario, we've had some shady things happen regarding our landlord and for our own protection and peace of mind, are moving).

See? Easy roof cleaning. Perfect sized house for the kids. Fine, that's really the back side of an open carport.

Our Christmas tree for 2011

Do you suppose I will ever know where she is?

And there's an inside to this place too... look at the lovely floor my kids will flood.

I will miss my Aga. I will desperately, most likely mourn for months for the Aga. I already miss the pool since summer has avoided us for the second straight year. I won't miss throwing money into it via chemicals and the time spent cleaning it only for the weather be too cold for swimming.

And I will miss the Hedwig hooting outside while I type and the Moorhens (who seem to lose babies to our pond every year).

But when winter comes,
and every child gets to stay in their room rather than move to parts of the house where the radiators work,
I will smile.

So technically, we're being snow birds. Flying off to a warmer house for winter (the season that never leaves).

So truth time: How many times did you have to Google something from this post?

Counseling Accepted

2011-07-13T23:15:00.001+01:00

I've done it again...

some people overeat when their spouse deploys.

Some watch too much t.v.

Some start an exercise program.

Some learn a new language, start a new hobby or just sit and count the days away.

I shop for houses.

and talk myself into all the reasons I need to move.

yes, again.

NOTHING

2011-07-08T23:09:00.000+01:00

...is what I've got. There's about seven drafts sitting in my to-be-posted folder but since they are a LOT of nothing, I thought I'd spare you some time and make a short post about nothing.

With photos.

The daughter has been making sculptures to send to daddy.

Here is a daffodil and a squid.

Give her a break, she's four.

Here is the same girl trying to fry Mommy with her evil laser-scowl all the way across a field (good thing I have a good zoom lens or I would've disintegrated getting this close to her).

She's at her "Sports Day" refusing to participate because I changed her out of her school shoes and into something better for running.

Just for the record, she doesn't go to school with face-less children...

this gives me an idea though...

I know this is all kinds of wrong, but it's been that kind of day.

Information Please

2011-07-07T09:44:00.000+01:00

So many things are missing from our lives these days.

Remember when the broadcasting day ended with a black and white video of a flag waving in the breeze to the tune of the Star Spangled Banner? There was no staying up through the night only to greet children bleary-eyed and grumpy the next morning just so that one could watch the season finale of Desperate Housewives at midnight.

And the nasally voice that was always there, always willing to help...

"Operator, May I Help you?"

I wish we still had Operator assistance.

I would ask if she could tell me where my son's football kit went. I washed it (and the track suit) to return to the team he's leaving... I now only have the track suit top. Socks, shorts, shirt and track bottoms have all just vanished.

I'd also ask her why the military "powers that be" make illogical policies.
Is it really more cost-effective to post a troop and his large family overseas, then pluck that military member out of job to deploy him-- now paying for a family to live overseas while they bring in another military person from somewhere else to cover the firsts' job? Wouldn't it be cheaper to just fly someone from the states where the family is NOT receiving overseas housing allowance?
Not that I'm complaining, I love it here.
They can pay my overseas housing costs for the rest of my life if they have that kind of money to throw around.

While I have Miss Operator on the line, I'd ask her how she felt about the ELO song...

And then maybe tell her a joke or two:

-*- A young man called directory assistance. "Hello, operator, I would like the telephone number for Mary Jones in Phoenix, Arizona.""There are multiple listings for Mary Jones in Phoenix," the operator replied. "Do you have a street name?" The young man hesitated, and then said, "Well, most people call me Ice Man."

-*- After directory assistance gave me my boyfriend's new telephone number, I dialed him and got a woman. "Is Robert there?" I asked. "He's in the shower," she responded. "Please tell him his girlfriend called," I said and hung up.

When he didn't return the call, I dialed again. This time a man answered. "This is Robert," he said.

"You're not my boyfriend!" I exclaimed.

"I know," he replied. "That's what I've been trying to tell my wife for the past half-hour."

But sadly, there is no pressing "0" any more.
All I have is Google
and it has no idea where the newly-washed football kit is...

Missing Kit, but not the bib or neon-green gloves

Sometimes technology isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

What are you missing?

No Need to Say Goodbye

2011-06-30T01:17:00.000+01:00

This dusty blog seems to have lost a lot of followers. I'm not going to take it personally considering I have had NO time to reciprocate comments for the last couple of months.

On the few visits I did make, Blogger did not do me any favors in my need to type comments quickly before being busted for slipping away to the computer room (while supposedly spending quality time with the fam).

Anyone else having blogger issues?

The Sexy guy has begun his beach (without water) holiday. It's been especially hard for the kids this time-- and for the first time, he was emotional about leaving.
Usually he just "mans up", mumbling stuff about "his job" and "that's the life we signed up for", but this time he was right there with me, "This sucks!"

He scared me a bit with the way he prepared us this time too. A little too thorough, which tells me there's concern on his part (he usually swears there is none). He really made an extra effort to spend some quality time together, even suffering one whole afternoon driving me from field to field to take photos.

As the taillights of the taxi faded in the dark hours of incredibly early, all I could think of was, "I didn't get a proper kiss!"
It was enough to make me want to throw sleeping kids in the car to follow him to the airport.
Stupid me, trying to put on a brave face and see him off smiling meant that I gave him a kiss his mother could have given him.

And this afternoon, Miss Ky, who is only really experiencing this for the first time (she was too young last time), said, "Stop talking about Daddy because I want to have him".
Bless her little heart.
She and her brother spent the afternoon painting pictures and writing cards for their Daddy.

Deployments never get any easier... and I'm not willing to practice until I've perfected it.

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard." ~Carol Sobieski and Thomas Meehan, Annie

I Read, Therefore I Am

2011-06-10T07:03:00.001+01:00

Today is my birthday.

I used to spend the day of my birthday in tears. Now I go all out and start the day before. Don't ask me why, I have no issues with the actual aging process.

Yesterday was over spilled milk. I had a real full-on boo hoo when a full cup of milk went over on the white carpet that a child who will remain anonymous spilled even though she's been told a gazillion times that no drinks are allowed in there.

I spent the rest of the day dreading going to the youth group where I knew the girls were up to planning some sort of surprise. I hate surprises.
When we all got there at 7 pm, one girl came in carrying a lot of bags. The dread set in. I didn't feel well, only just recovered from some nasty tummy bug on wednesday and I know my smile looked forced.
She began pulling out tins and boxes--filled with...

sewing stuff! Yay! As the evening went on with no surprises, I got happier and happier and was downright giddy as I left the building.

This morning, I swore I'd be more enthusiastic. I opened my eyes and the first words from my mouth were "Flush the toilet!"

Never once have I told my kids not to flush a toilet when people are sleeping, so that excuse is not working... and skipping hand washing? Really? How loud can one wash hands? It's going to be just another day...

So, I slip downstairs and there is a package waiting for me...

I never know with the hubby and wonder in awe at his thought process.
This year tops it I think. There's two books wrapped together. He knows I like to read, knows I've sent us into the poor house downloading books onto the iPad, only I think he's forgotten the time and care I put into choosing a book... I can only try to understand why he's picked these two books out of an entire store.

And then I remember last night as he asked about "The Forgotten Garden". I told him that the author is Kate Morton and I quickly made sure he knew that I had EVERYTHING she's written... He replied with, "Tesco has a sale on books, buy one get one..."

Men.

His Father's Day gift that I have planned out since April? I can guarantee you it was not on a buy one get one free offer...

Speaking of books...

don't say I've never done you any favors.
RUN do not walk to your nearest book shop (app) and pick up "The Help"by Kathryn Stockett. You can thank me later. I will warn you, DON'T read it quickly, you will regret not pacing yourself.

I'm off to find a matinee somewhere. The thought of sitting in a dark cinema alone, not escorting someone to the toilet every five minutes sounds like Heaven. Any non-child friendly movie suggestions?

Astrology Is Being Replaced

2011-06-04T09:44:00.001+01:00

I may know that you're a Leo and I'm a Gemini, but I don't rush to the morning paper to see who I should interact with.
I don't plot my month around which sun is in my moon sign or whatever it is that people do.
My life path doesn't interfere with what I may eat for lunch today and my Destiny number doesn't keep me from buying more scrapbooking paper on a Wednesday. Cards and dice can't predict my future and tea leaves never touch my cup...

but what I can believe in is iPod Destiny. I don't think I will ever start another day without consulting my music library!

I just picked this wonderful life-changing tidbit up from Pearl, who is wiser than any crossed legged Tibetan Monk (and she's fun to read as well) and am ready to put my music into action.

So here goes...

my iPod shuffle forecast for the weekend is:

"Marry You" by Bruno Mars
"Crawling Up a Hill" by Katie Melua
ELO's "Evil Woman"
"Save Me" by Queen
and "Don't Stop Me Now", also by Queen (my iPhone tends to get stuck on a theme when shuffling, so I figure the next twenty songs will also be from Queen).

Hmmmmm....

What I interpret from this is more of a message for the Hubby, through me, his wise wife.

"Yes, I did Marry You even though most days it's like Crawling Up a Hill. Let's face it, I'm an Evil Woman. You may think you can Save Me, but I'm telling you, Don't Stop Me Now".

Not very satisfying. I was hoping there'd be something along the lines of "Never eat donuts just before bed on National Donut Day because you will have dreams of half-kitten/half-scorpions biting you", not some message to pass on to Sexy Guy. Maybe I don't have enough songs on my iPhone.

Go ahead, tell me what your music predicts for you this weekend...

Quick, Take a Pic!

2011-06-01T19:36:00.000+01:00

I may be a hoarder...
(never admit guilt)

who could possibly use intervention...
(possibly. I'd rather everyone be wrong and there be no need for intervention)

and most likely seeks advice.
(from people whose opinions matter than those whom I am living with)

When someone mails you photos of their children,

who are easily 10-15 years older than when you saw them last,

do you save those photos?

Where do you put them?

In a book?

In a frame?

What if your own children photos sit in a hard drive somewhere in the grand company of 40,000 other photos?

I just left the dinner table after receiving a thorough ribbing from the Husband.

He seems to think that my photographic accumulation is a problem.

What do you think? Where is the cut off for too many photos?

I may be a hoarder...

Mourning the Summer That Isn't

2011-05-27T12:31:00.001+01:00

My mind is on ~~our impending doom~~ the husband's deployment.
Preparing for it is like going through the Kübler-Ross Model, or five stages of grief.

1. Denial: "Uh, I don't think so..." "Didn't you just go on a deployment?" "Surely they've made a mistake, let's not get excited until the paperwork is in your hand".

2. Anger: At everybody and everything.

Towards Hubby: "Are you flippin' kidding me?! What about _____ and_______ and ________ who have never been deployed in their whole career?!"

Towards insensitive RS President: "No, I am NOT ok with you changing my VT route and companion so that I now have to drive 15 minutes to get her (she doesn't drive) and then an additional 35 minutes to the people I am supposed to visit while my husband is away."

Towards the Military: "What about our camping trip, beach plans--all of our summer?" "What about our Pantomime tickets already booked?"

Towards Flaky Hubby: "So, you are deploying in a couple of weeks, but still managing to take time off to do a hike with your buddy?" "Really?!"

Towards Football Coach: "You have NOT divided the team fairly for these 5-a-sides. Yes, I know you have one strong defender, 2 strong midfielders and a strong striker on each of your two teams but that's not the point!"

Towards random strangers: "Why are those kids staring at me, haven't they ever seen a woman smash the front end of her car before?!"

(anger hung around longer than the other stages)

3. Bargaining: "Fine, so you go away for another 6 months and I'll go home". "Yes, I know that I will be alone at "home" just as I'm alone here, but that's not the point (nor is the fact that there isn't a "home" any longer since we've been moving for the last 15 years)."
"I need more scrapbooking paper to ease my pain...and Wii Zumba".

4. Depression: "I'll get out of bed when I'm ready, pass the chocolate please".

5. Acceptance: "I'm going to be ok, I can't change it so I will have to accept it". "We'll take one bite of the elephant at a time..."

I won't say which stage I am on now, but I can tell you that my mind is distracted (thus the little fender bender between me and an embankment only days before my car was supposed to sell). I'm having a hard time focusing and "being in the moment" which is sad for the kids...

Miss Ky was not in school on Monday, she was home with me. OMGosh that girl can talk! I didn't want to be short with her, but at one point I thought that if she didn't shut up soon, my head was going to blow into a billion abstract bits all over my house.
My thoughts are on automobiles, tv taxes, car taxes, the pool winterizing I'll have to do on my own, Number One Son in Tech school and his wife in Arizona, school fees that hit hard when we got back from the states and older, established trees dying left and right in my garden due to the drought we're suffering...not the constant ramblings of a four-year old.

I decided that the best thing to do with little Miss Chatterbox was put her to work.

"Miss Ky, how about you come out and help me in the garden, would you like to move the water to the apple tree for me?"

"Okay!!! I'm going to get my shoes! I'm wearing my school shoes because if I wear my sparkly shoes they might get mud on them Livvy wears her sparkly shoes to school sometimes and she takes her bike, I want to take my bike to school because I'm a big girl and I don't need a helmet because I can ride with one hand...."
and she sets herself smack on my heels, following me out the door... singing.

"Weee're going to move the water! Weee aaare going to moooove the waaaahhaaahhhaaater, we're moving the waaaater, we are going to move the waaaahaaater..."
She sings for the mile and half (slight exaggeration) we have to walk to where the hose sits.
Then she picks up the hose and turns to me to ask, "Which apple tree do you want me to water?" as she soaks my legs.

We can do this, some days are just going to be a lot less fun than others.

Regrets

2011-05-20T21:56:00.001+01:00

I didn't know the world was ending tomorrow. No one told me. If I had known, I would have lived the last couple of days differently.

I wouldn't have done all of that laundry.

I wouldn't have freaked out when our expired car loan approval (not our fault our car got held up at the ports) meant that we were going to go from 4% to 11% to have it renewed.

I would have eaten chocolate all day and skipped the healthy stuff.

I certainly wouldn't have spent the last available sunshine editing photos for some one's retirement party-- what does he care if they're put on a disc if there's no tomorrow for him to see them?

My poor son. He'll never get his honeymoon.

Texas stores, Jo Ann's and Michaels?

I don't know...

would I have thrown all caution to the wind and bought everything I fancied?
Or would I have not even bothered since I can't use any of the stuff anyway?

I want it all!!

Why not 60% off? The world is ending anyway.

Here's where I have no regrets:
all of those people who kept saying they would come visit me... I told you not to put it off!

What are you doing with your last day?

Postcards From No Rest For The Wearyville

2011-05-14T13:51:00.001+01:00

Wednesday:Yes, I AM willing to drive for miles looking for a Michaels or Joann's, why do you ask?

Thursday: having a great time, wish you were here... well, maybe not for the horrific storm bit that spawned a tornado and totally threw the military ceremonies into chaos, but for the rest of it.

Ihop is currently our home away from home and I'm enjoying the toilet seat covers and classic rock on the radio!

I teared up when the AF briefing listed Son #1 as an Honor Graduate.
I frowned when the Airman's Run was cancelled for rain, worried when the storm rolled in, threatening to cancel the Coin Ceremony.

Note for the AF: If you place hundreds of excited parents in a BX during a storm, they will be talking too much to hear your drive-by announcement to "seek shelter immediately" and may mistake it for "Please move back to the Reception Center immediately", therefore arriving to a blackened room soaking wet to enjoy meeting a few more hundred family members holding their phones as flashlights.

Finally, we made it into a cafeteria that still had power and after acknowledging the accomplishments of the airman and applauding #1 for his Honors, I was taken back to the relief, joy and pride of his birth 22 years ago when he embraced me in the biggest hug I have ever received.

I then had the privilege of shopping with him for a ring...

K-girl got here just an hour before he had to report back to his dorm.

I hope my cankles go away before tomorrow!

Friday: Another 4am start since it's too hot to sleep. Why is our room so hot?

7.10 we started making our way to the parade grounds. K-girl and her dad make it to us at 8.30-I can relax again (no relaxing for Dad who I forced to wear his uniform).

9.00 the ceremony begins

and by 9.40, K-girl got to "tap out" (release him from standing at attention).

He got down on one knee and offered her the ring...

Lunch at Red Lobster (his favorite) was followed by a frantic tour of downtown San Antonio to find Command Seargent Major Don to marry them.

By 4 pm, I am the proud owner of a new daughter.

Quick stop by the Alamo, why not? We're here...

Seriously, why is our room so hot?

7:30 pm Raised the white flag, so now we've moved rooms to one that actually has air conditioning and look forward to some sleep... after we have Mexican food downtown.
I hope the massive blister on my foot goes away soon.

Having the best holiday ever, wish you were here!

I'd like to officially welcome K-girl to the blog, where all privacy goes out the window. Thank you for standing by J1 for all of these years. For holding his hand when his heart was broken, even though doing it was breaking yours. Thank you for being his friend when he was too blind to see that there was no one else who could lift him the way you do. Thank you for loving my son and for agreeing to marry into our crazy family. We love you!!

Things Americans Take For Granted

2011-05-12T12:01:00.000+01:00

1. Sonic Cherry Limeade
2. Crushed ice in a Sonic Cherry Limeade
3. Seeing American flags waving from every city block
4. Ihop
5. Sunsets
6. Strangers striking up conversations in a bathroom
7. Showers that blast the top layer of skin away
8. M&M's in new flavors
9. Craft Stores that go on forever and ever
10. Did I mention Cherry Limeade?

Gooooood Morning USA,

2011-05-11T10:57:00.000+01:00

We're back on American soil!

After traveling for 17 hours (drive to London, airport sitting time, layovers and plane transfers), we arrived in San Antonio exhausted (I was sporting some lovely cankles from sitting so long), but excited.

We spent about an hour driving around looking for our room-- on the wrong side of the road, so it was never boring, and another hour looking for food.
After dreaming of a great American sit-down meal all week, we settled for Whattaburger (and it took all the willpower I had not to load up on milkshakes and apple pies).

Today, Hubby and I could not sleep past 4 am, so it looks like a tour of Walmart is in order... or maybe a stop by the Alamo before the tourists get there.

Whatever the day holds for us, nothing can compare to tomorrow when we'll see our #1 Son as an Airman for the first time.

It.s a great day!

Yea Though I Walk...

2011-05-04T17:38:00.002+01:00

... through valleys and mountains.

This has been an incredible couple of weeks, hasn't it?

UP: I spent five hours sitting in front of a television mesmerized by a fairytale wedding,

obviously not my photo, don't know who to credit though...

DOWN: and the weekend worrying about a little boy's swollen ankle...

UP: There was a proud afternoon as Miss Ky decided she would now ride her bike without stabilizers--and she did, brilliantly!

UH: An emotionally strange feeling at the death of a terrorist... (No, Miss Ky is still alive and well, thank you)

UP: THE OVERWHELMING ELATION OF SEEING NORWICH CITY GET THE AUTOMATIC PROMOTION INTO THE PREMIERE LEAGUE!!! yes, I did cry-still an "UP" moment.

Norwich City desktop photos

DOWN: and news that Mr. Sexy is going on "holiday".

Again.

He will miss "firsts" of a child going to school, another starting high school, birthdays, all upcoming holidays... yes, I did say "all".

UP: In one week I will "tap out" the other Air Force guy in my life. I have reason to believe that I will be gaining a daughter-in-law the very same weekend, but since AF guys are really quite good at keeping secrets, I can neither confirm nor deny my suspicions at this time.

My emotional state is all over the place to say the least...

How's your week been?

The Wedding

2011-04-29T13:18:00.000+01:00

As an American living in England, I felt it was my responsibility to try to cover a little bit of THE wedding excitement over here...
I take my blogging responsibility very seriously and wanted my post to contain verifiable facts, so I opened up Firefox and began my research.

However, I was instantly alerted by a blinking (vibrating?) window that I was a WINNER (being the 999,999,000 person to enter the site), and my concentration was blown.
I started picturing all of the nice things I could have won, and quite honestly, Kate and William's little soiree didn't seem so interesting anymore.

I mean after all, what's the big deal? I got married back in 1996 and the only newspaper article available about that blessed event was the one I wrote myself. The photographers on hand were either related to me or some private investigator hired by my future father-in-law.
No one speculated on my dress, who it was made by and whether it really was a size 8 or if that 8 was a European 8 which really meant an American size much bigger-- say, possibly the size of a European window dressings.

The husband admitted to someone last week that he's quite interested in the whole Kate and William thing and a little surprised that I'm not trying harder to get in the mood of it all. Same husband who has been married to unromantic me since 1996...

For a few seconds I thought he may be right. I toyed with the idea of driving towards London, catching a tube... but to where? Would I stand outside Westminster Abbey so that I could stare at the sea of people in front of me, or wait outside Buckingham palace so that I could stare at the backs of people's heads and hope news would filter down to me that the big balcony kiss had happened?

I could tell my grandchildren that I attended the King of England's wedding back in 2011...

Instead, we gathered around the telly like millions of others and enjoyed the closeup view of a very gorgeous bride and groom. The ~~hyper~~ kids watched up to the point of the couple signing the register and then all ventured out into the (unexpected) sunshine.

Ok, they were forced outside after I got tired of the "I'm hungry"s and fights over Lego pieces and arguments over who stole whose seat.

As the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge entered the carriage to begin the procession back to Buckingham Palace, a horrific scream rocked my back garden. The older boy and the youngest boy apparently clashed over a footy challenge and the younger, who was NOT wearing shin guards, lost. Luckily I won't be spending the rest of the afternoon in A&E, but he will be off the leg today.

Yeah. I'm now regretting the missed opportunity to be staring at some stranger's back. I'm sure it was a lot more peaceful out on the streets of London.

From The Independent live

Best Wishes to the young couple!

What's The Point?

2011-04-19T10:44:00.000+01:00

I dreaded the upcoming Dark and Dreadful Day and I prepared for it in earnest...

When one knows there is suffering and pain ahead, it helps to mentally prepare as well as physically.

I am all about preparedness, I made my "72-hour kit" (of sorts).

First, I had to charge the iPad (which I am REALLY enjoying btw. Thank you blogger peeps who convinced me to just shut up and keep the gift).

Next was updating the software.

I then transferred Gen. Conference and the new Harry Potter onto it (Harry and General Authorities go hand in hand, don't you think?).

I felt prepared for my crown.

Or so I thought...

Did you know that just any headphones will not go into an iPad? Yeah. I discovered it as soon as I confidently sat down on my throne. Imagine the panic that set in when I realized that I would now be facing HIM

...without my much needed distraction.

And of course he said what every dentist before him has...

"You have a really little mouth, it's difficult to work in".

Take that! All you teachers and mean kids of my past, I do NOT have a big mouth thankyouverymuch.

So after two and a half hours of having my mouth propped open (one would think with all of the talking I do, my jaw would have been in terrific shape for this marathon opening),

I now have a temporary crown. One that is very fragile and should not be used to eat chewy, hard or crunchy items (is there anything left?!).
The best advice I got, "Do not grind your teeth at night".

Oh, ok.

My crown will be here in....
SIX to EIGHT WEEKS. Got to love military medical care.

My jaw is bruised, my cheek and tongue are cut and I have to subsist on applesauce, bananas and oatmeal for two months (exaggerate, me?).

The best bit? I usually grind my teeth when I'm worried or stressed. I'm worried and stressed now that I might grind my teeth and end up choking to death on this temporary crown.

Just shoot me now.

Image is Everything

2011-04-17T13:58:00.001+01:00

I'm glad I'm older.

I'm glad I'm not the spacey, distracted girl I was in my youth.

Maturity= being in control, being organized is power.

My youngest son is turning 8 next week. His only request was to have a football party. So, we booked the venue. We tried to order a cake, but the commissary said they couldn't do anything special, just a plain cake...that they could charge me and arm and a leg for.
No thank you, I can bake.

So I did.

I made yellow and green cupcakes and frosted them with yellow and green icing (Norwich City colors). Eight of them held soccer ball shaped-candles.
I bought the loot for and packed Norwich City party bags. I also purchased and delivered 20 Cadbury eggs for him to share at his weekly Saturday morning training with his team. All before 11.30 am.

Since my sister-in-law was arriving (from the U.S.) to stay with us sometime after the party, I vacuumed the upstairs and did a quick once over on the house and threw in a last load of laundry.

We all ran out the door, cupcakes and party bags in hand and began the 20 minute drive to the party place.

This is power. "The efficient, well-organized Mom", that's going to be how people describe me.

It was only as we were nearing the building that I thought to look down at my feet.

Imagine my surprise to see my blue, furry slippers still there.

Yes. It's good to be older... people don't think twice about a harried, worn-out mom walking around a sport facility wearing fuzzy blue slippers.

Le Coup de Foudre

2011-04-16T12:32:00.003+01:00

You know those people who tell you they're married to the love of their life? I know lots of them.

I have to wonder if they've met enough people.

I mean, was he the love of her life because her parents locked her in a closet and didn't let her come out until the day of the arranged marriage?

I have to wonder, because ~~it's what I do best--speculate about other people's lives~~ there were several points in my life where I thought I was with the love of my life

and they were all very different people.

There's Scott, my kindergarten boyfriend that would sneak "gifts" from his sister's dressing table to bring to me at recess. I knew he would forever be the love of my life.

Then came The Brown boy (yikes, memory!-- I remember his brothers names but not his) whose tight-lipped kiss made my knees go weak. He was the love of my life until I dumped him and went out with his brother, another Scott. 6th grade was worse than a soap opera.

High school's David C... sigh. How my heart fluttered around Dave. His skin smelled like coconut and we listened to Michael Jackson while holding hands. HE was the love of my life.
Until he moved away.

Pat. The older boy I crushed on from 8th grade through high school (yes, same time as Dave, and?). Occasionally he threw me a date or two and when I came back from college, he suddenly had a change of heart and decided I was worth pursuing. Even though I had believed he was the love of my life, I didn't think we had the same goals for our future...

Chuck. Toothpaste model looks, sweet little-boy innocent heart. I have never cried so hard and for so long as when we had to go our separate ways. In different circumstances, we would have grown old together. In my future dementia, I may believe that we did.

Dana, made me feel alive! He had charisma overload. There was never a better dancing partner and laughter felt good again, did I mention he was the love of my life?

Of course there were others ~~because I am pretty stinking old,~~ including the bloke that I'm now married to.

What if I had stopped on love of my life #1?

Surely his sister would have run out of fingernail polish eventually and then what would we have had to talk about other than dodge ball?

For some reason I feel like breaking into a chorus of Mambo #5

"A little bit of ____ in my life,
A little bit of ____ by my side.
A little bit of _____'s all I need,
A little bit of ____'s all I see...."

Are you married to the love of your life?

Are you sure?

You Can Find Me in the Corner of the Lovely Padded Room

2011-04-15T09:01:00.000+01:00

I thought...

that I couldn't wait for the Easter Half-term holidays.

I envisioned the mornings I would be lying in my bed doing full body stretches sometime around, say 10 am, to be followed with lots of playing and picnicking.

I had a dream (Tangled reference)

of an overflowing bread box with no packed lunches being made.

BUT

Some idiot scheduled all of the boys for the first three days in a soccer school, so lunches were packed and bed stretching was postponed. With boys away, I was blessed with some insight of Miss Ky's future hoarding practices since she had more time to drag all things belonging to everybody downstairs.

The same idiot forgot the chant heard 'round the world during school breaks, "I'm bored! I'm bored! She's looking at me!" Fun times.

The biggest slap in the face?

Having Miss Ky home is different than having four boys home.

This afternoon as I ran upstairs to brush my teeth (compulsive tooth brusher).
I hesitated to have a look at the brush-- thank the Manufacturer that I did!

My toothbrush is brown.

Not at the top,
no,
someone rinsed it carefully after using it to do who-knows-what,
but down at the bottom of the bristles there's a new color that was not there this morning.

My gag reflex is in overdrive now.

Ten days and fifteen hours until that child returns to school, I think I'll start packing her lunches now...

If there were no schools to take the children away from home part of the time, the insane asylums would be filled with mothers. ~Edgar W. Howe

Sugar and Spice

2011-04-13T18:09:00.000+01:00

This sweet,

delicate flower...

just imagine an angel and songbird chorus,

while butterflies dance in her hair

as she floats,

fairy-like,

through our garden...

and then watch this:

Karate Ky

really loud,

Karate Ky.

The reality.

Under the Haystack, Fast Asleep

2011-04-07T00:54:00.000+01:00

Tomorrow,

I'm all yours.

It's ok if the sink is full and the laundry is wet (and souring)
in a basket.

You can bring all the blankets and pillows you want and spread them any way you please,
as long as I am still the guest of honor.

All stuffed toys are welcomed in the car and to any tea parties.

When you excitedly retell your story about how you've given new names to everyone in your class because your brother is challenging you to say them all again (to see if you just made all of it up on the spot), I will listen just as attentively as if it were the first time.

We'll dance, we'll sing, we'll make the brownies we've talked about all week.

This week, I will try desperately to remember my own childhood as I'm more fully enjoying yours. I will imagine looking out of your eyes. What expression will I see looking back at me?

Tonight while you sleep,

I will wonder,

at what age do kids stop wishing they could fly?

and I'll reflect

on your sincere, innocent nighttime prayers...

and how many times you weren't able to finish your sentence because of interruptions.

I'm going to forever remember that this morning,
as I tried to gently prepare you for the possibility of failing,
you looked at me and asked, "Do you think I can do it?"

I believe you can do anything and will be there for the times
when you forget you can.

Just do me a favor,

if in the morning,

your special wish comes true,

don't fly away too soon

or too far,

because you and I...

we have a lot of playing left to do.

Mean Mom

2011-04-04T11:10:00.001+01:00

Anyone considering jumping ship and coming over to be adopted by us, you may want to think again.

We're the meanest parents ever. We believe that if you're not old enough to register for something, then you're not old enough to have the account. There's a reason there are age restrictions on things.

But, I got suckered. I felt bad that we were restricting our kids in their internet use when everyone else around them had thrown caution to the wind. Kids as young as my 7 year-old have a Facebook account. (MY seven year-old doesn't!)

I started asking around. One group of moms told me that yes, they lied on the registration for their kids to have an account, but that they have full control of it. The kids have to come to them to get signed in.
I want to raise a child with integrity--something that seems in short demand with the youth that we come in contact with--would getting him an account before he's old enough to register on his own send a mixed message?

Well, I gave in. I put a lot of faith in my boy who will turn 13 this summer. I argued his case to his dad, and against his concerns, the boy got an account. Several days were spent in a giddy cloud of friend requests and silly messages. I helped him upload some photos. We kept a close eye on him, but he had the control. All was going well and we've even had some great teaching moments about conversations, internet etiquette and privacy protection.

And then I suggested he try to find his best friend that he had while living in the states.

Big mistake.

This morning, I happened across one of the nastiest, most vulgar conversations I have ever read. I was mortified. You know the saying, "You kiss your mama with that filthy mouth"?
Yes, yes he does.

Some gangsta wanna-be had attacked him while he was chatting on a friend's wall. He was threatened not only by the little moron, but the friend he had only re-found and was trying to reconnect with was "liking" the gangsta's remarks to the boy.

Boy was sent to school with a firm telling off and all of his afternoon plans canceled. I then erased all of his nasty retorts (his grandmother could see these!), which only baited the little gangsta jerk more as he taunted (who he thought was still my son) about erasing his comments. I completely un-friended the little nasty creature that he once enjoyed playing baseball with.

TWELVE. These kids are twelve years old.

Am I swimming upstream? I want my kids to be honest, trustworthy, non-materialistic human beings, how do I do that when their peers have so much handed to them and seem to possess very little parental intervention? Why does it seem (to me) that parents aren't more protective of their child's childhood? If I kill his communication ability, I make him a joke. If I continue to support it, I am telling other parents that it's ok to rush your kid into adulthood.

I'm at a loss as to where we go from here...

Ssssssad Friday

2011-04-01T08:30:00.000+01:00

I'm ssssorry to ssssay they've found the New York Bronx Zoo Cobra. I'm going to miss his Twitter updatessss.

My Schedule Could Beat Up Your Schedule

2011-03-28T18:53:00.000+01:00

Some people go silent for a very good reason.

Not me.
No reason.

One morning I woke up and realized two weeks had passed and I hadn't posted a single thing. Actually it's longer considering I just threw a couple of videos up on here and called them posts.

So, here's where I've been when I could have been blogging:

That bruise that was taking up most of my calf? It was swollen, got hard and developed some sort of infection. How does a bruise get infected? I blamed my shower and hidden germs, so I nuked the thing and it will never hurt another middle-aged woman again. My leg still looks unusual...

Oldest Son went into Basic Training and I am on constant standby for news. The only call his girlfriend has received was the one to give her his address. He's a turkey that way. OH and don't say he's busy, I'm following his group on FB and the parents/loved ones there are posting when they get calls He thinks his TI yells loud? Wait 'till I see him in May... He's in big trouble.

We decided to get a new vehicle. My husband NEEDS a new vehicle, we're tired of spending so much to repair his, but for some reason we got distracted and requested one for me- to be transported to our base to have a look. It took three days to arrive from less than 40 miles away, and when it did get here, the lorrie driver somehow ran over his remote control and he couldn't unload the van. We were told to come back the next day, only to discover that they had damaged it while unloading it. We were told to come back in a week and then told it wasn't there because they put it into a garage to have the light conversion on it.
We told them to keep their van...

Son number 3 plays on a football (soccer) team and they just won the league. They still have two league games to play, but it's a done deal already. Yay #3!

We had a movie/sleepover birthday party for 13 kids... don't say it. We took the kids to see Rango on the release nite. Yeah... that's all I have to say about Rango.

Kids have gone to town on their Despicable Me plasticine characters. They're competing for who can make the smallest that still retains detail.

Miss Ky is a big help in that after-stretch period

Our time is spent running to football training, games and tournaments in between ballet (for Miss Ky) and swim lessons. The Hubby just did a half-marathon down in the London area (finished 14th according to their website-- we thought he was number 17) (yay Husband!) and I'm now hosting a scrap booking day in our house once a month--really enjoying being creative again!

So... blogging has suffered.

What have you been doing while waiting for Spring to make her appearance?

Wordless...

2011-03-15T19:07:00.000Z

Bits and Bobs and Bathing

2011-03-14T07:45:00.000Z

Today the boy begins his long-awaited journey. He is sequestered in a hotel room until his flight for basic training. 5000 miles away from where I am now. He's really freaked out about some of the details... like showering with other guys. I'm sure that's not his biggest fear, it's just the one he chooses to talk about. Have you ever tried to reassure someone over the phone when you're scared to death yourself? I think I'm going to be sick.

Mothers of toddlers, you have only begun the great worrying machine that is Mom.

Showers are dangerous. I have a 6"x31/2" bruise healing slowly on my calf from where I fell. The bad thing is, I could have really been hurt if our shower wasn't the tiny cubicle that it is. Since approximately 300 people die from falling in the shower every year (unconfirmed statistic), I consider my bruise a medal for surviving.

I hope Son #1 doesn't slip in the shower.

Husband was stricken with the Man-Flu this week. He wanted me to feel his forehead and see if he was hot (not hawt, I can see that from a distance). I told him, "No way, keep your germs away from me", so he called over the 7 year-old. "A2, come see if I am hot". I told the boy to keep his distance. Miss Ky announces, "I'm not coming over so you can kill me!". Can you feel the love?

I really appreciate all of the new comments I have somehow attracted. They are so lovely, sincere and very in tune with what I am seeking (sarcasm).

"Keep up the good works with this very informative post"--Uh, it's a cat video with no words...
They were a great help in confirming that I really do need word verification.
Sorry again to the rest of you "real" people.

There's a woman friend here that has been keeping me posted on the latest news regarding our commissary-- which she fears is in danger of closing down if the budget isn't passed. This isn't a new fear, we're always threatened with losing our commissaries when govt, determines the military has too much and they argue over the budget every year. I'm just wondering when the best time is to tell her that we may not get paid in March?

Miss Ky passed on some training her father gave her the other day when he walked her around the newly planted sheep in the fields around our house: "There's a rope and you can't touch it because it has gravity and it wraps around you and strangles you. Just a little bit". That's what she interpreted from learning about electrified fencing.

Dear Son #1,

Be safe. Stay away from gravitatated fences and leg-eating showers. You are entering a career field that will always have you guessing whether or not you'll be getting your benefits and paycheck. It's a wild ride. We love you. We are proud of you. We are praying for you all day every day.

Love Mom.

iFret

2011-03-10T19:34:00.002Z

My husband owns stock in Apple. Not really, but he lives like he does. He wants the newest, fastest, bestest Apple products available.
I am his voice of reason (disregard previous posts of the encroaching signs indicating I have hoarder tendencies). I am the reason he's got an iPhone 3GS instead of the latest model. His MacBook and iMacs (yes, plural) aren't the newest.

However, when the iPad was about to be released, I lost all reasoning. I devoured the articles in MacFormat, MacLife and iCreate. I bought the Digital FX magazines as well. I wanted to create. I could see the iPad suddenly opening up great windows of time for me to sit and create ART again. I NEEDED an iPad.

Of course, after the frenzy died down and I pushed my unopened magazines back behind my iMac, the addiction symptoms subsided. There was only a slight twinge of envy when friends started sending me emails with the "sent from my iPad" signature.
I've accepted the realization that my ART is on hold-- whether with oil, photography or digital-- until the children are weaned. I live with it.

So yesterday, Hubby threw all of the "this is my life" acceptance out the window when he brought home a gift bag. It was dark blue with gold tissue paper.
I thought maybe there was a Blue and Gold Banquet we were supposed to attend and then remembered we don't have any Scouts in our house.
It's a gift, for no reason (he assures me there's no hidden "price tag" and since he does have the flu, I'm taking his word for it). He bought an iPad for me. With a case.

I have owned said Apple product now for 24 hours and it still sits unwrapped on my counter. When I unwrap it, I can no longer return it.
After googling "Why do I need an iPad?" I've come to the conclusion that no one knows why anyone has one.

So tell me. Please. You have until Monday because the clock is ticking on the receipt. WHY do I need an iPad? WHAT difference will it make in my life?

Here's my arguments against:

I like books. I like the way they smell, feel and I love bagging me a great bargain book for 20p at the carboot.

I like magazines, however, I could pay less and not have recycling to deal with if I just downloaded them onto an iPad.

All of the ART software available does NOT mean I will have the time to do anything more than what I'm (not) doing now..

I have an iPhone. What will the iPad offer me that I don't already have?

HELP ME please.
I'd love to say that the best answer will win a free iPad, but who hasn't been spammed with that one yet?

Great British Advertising CATS

2011-03-09T10:20:00.000Z

Too Close To Home

2011-03-02T23:59:00.070Z

As a military spouse, I'm constantly wary of any suspicious behavior. I don't fly an American flag outside my home, I don't call attention to my vehicle, my clothing, my behavior.
We were warned of things that make us stand out as Americans and it was drilled into us how to behave in International airports-- which passports to use, which luggage to have etc...

48th Fighter Wing RAF LAkenheath

So could someone PLEASE explain to me why airmen from our base were escorted on to an (obvious) U.S. AIR FORCE BUS at the Frankfurt Germany airport?????

Gunman Kills 2 U.S. Airmen

There's two devastated mothers whose fears of an upcoming deployment were justified, only sooner than they expected.

As a mother to a young man preparing to enter Basic Training (and spouse of a man who deploys regularly), I'm angry that it was even possible to target these military members.

My sincerest condolences and prayers go out to our RAF Lakenheath Security Forces; the Airmen involved and their families and to the family of the bus driver.

If You Could See Me Now

2011-02-21T20:57:00.000Z

I will never learn.
When vanity and common sense go to battle in my life, vanity will stomp cs's backside every time.

AT LEAST this time I used depilatory actually meant for faces.

AT LEAST this time I washed it off BEFORE the burning started (you know, basically torturing my skin without actually removing any hair).

Royal Tart Forum foto

And so I wait.

For the tightening,
reddening,
bubbling
and
overall 3-degree burn look to overtake my face.

I think I'll go find some chocolate and sit in a dark room...

for a few months.

Or at least until my common sense builds up some muscle.

Romance

2011-02-17T15:49:00.000Z

The ransomed horse was a FAIL.

Turns out that lovely couple is missing a LADY BIRD (Lady Bug to you Yanks). The little horsey just happened to be ours from a book.

P did offer me some lasagna though.

out of pity.

This week's special day was Valentine's Day.

Since Sexy Guy is the romantic of the family (and I am so NOT) I decided to try to avoid any embarrassment this year for my lack of preparation.

Who has time for thoughtful, romantic planning when there are kids to get to football, ballet, church activities, and my own meetings?

No, I didn't rent him a date with someone more romantic than me, I went for the preemptive strike and
asked him to please NOT buy any chocolate since I can't handle the guilt when I eat the entire box in one sitting and the deceit when have to run out to buy a new box and eat a few of those so it doesn't look like I have absolutely no control.

He honored my request.

There were no pressies, flowers, mushy cards this year.

In fact, it was a very ordinary day with the exception of me becoming the coolest Mom in Great Britain because I sent my kids to school with Valentine cards & lollies (heart-shaped suckers) in a country where kids don't spend two weeks assembling paper mache mail boxes for the love-themed loot they'll receive.
ONE other child wrote Valentine cards, but only for her closest friends. hah! I win!!

As I basked in my new-found coolest-Mom-ever glory, I confessed to the Husband that a few thoughts had entered my mind for some thoughtful gifts for him...

(like a foot massage for those feet I refuse to touch)

to which he replied,

"The only thing a guy wants for the day is s.., all that other Valentine's Day stuff is for the wife".

SLAP. ouch.

Is it true?? Men don't eagerly await the homemade cards of tissue paper hearts glued on with the kids Elmer's and a sappy stab at poetry from the love of their life??

I'm rethinking all of the lovely dinners I made for him, my husband, the most romantic person I know... those Valentines Days before our circus of children came along.

I feel like someone just sucker-punched Santa Claus on live TV.

Facing The Facts

2011-02-10T09:59:00.001Z

My daughter is a klepto.

To serious extremes.

This very kind couple brings kid things on Sunday just so Miss Ky can sit on their laps during Sacrament meeting. They love this cheeky little girl, so they've shared sweet little quiet-toys with her that they made years ago for their granddaughter.

Recently P asked if I had seen a little horse that went missing from one of the books.
This couple is on to my child as they were unwillingly inducted into her Winona Ryder lifestyle the time she shoved their puzzle pieces down into her pajama legs after spending an evening in their house.

I told them I'd look into it.

These are the emails I sent off this morning:

1st email: "DoN't trY to loCate uS. wE hAve sOmeThiNg yoU waNt. bRing lAsaGna oR thE hoRse geTs iT."

spelling of a certain someone's name--her style

2nd email: "thiS iS a ClUe to FiNdinG wHo tOok yOur little hOrSe"

I really hope this works. I haven't had P's lasagna for over a year.

Bloggers Anonymous

2011-02-04T00:04:00.000Z

Hi.
I'm J and I'm a blogger.

The Husband begins his very long journey home tomorrow. It's my last full night to lie diagonal in the bed. The bed I'll have all to myself.

So why do I sit up until midnight reading blogs?

What Did You Say?

2011-01-30T18:00:00.000Z

Husband is going away for a week. To a beautiful place. For work.
Leading up to this excursion, he has said some pretty schtoopid things:

As I have moaned for three days about the lack of passion/direction/rewarding life experiences I am accumulating, he turns to me and says, "Have you heard of...(foreign historical site)?"
"No." I answer, but just by the name I can tell where it is.
"I'm thinking I might go there when my plane lands...

yes, you do that.

Last night I ask, "Are you packed?"
I have to do this with him or he will wait until the night before his flight and then pack until 3 am (with all lights engaged) when I am expected to drive him to the airport at 4am. He will sleep on the plane, I will come back home and get kids ready for school. "I started," He says.

"Did you pack your running things?" Training for a half-marathon doesn't take a holiday because he's in a different country, "Well, some, but the rest of it hasn't been washed yet."

Source: LiveJournal

The end of that sentence weighs more than I did when delivered Miss Ky.

So, I walk (with attitude) into the laundry room where there is ONE running shirt and TWO pairs of shorts. WTH? The man has several other running shirts and he can't pack because I haven't done his laundry in the last ten minutes?

Yesterday, I stood on a frozen pitch watching J2 become a mud man in football training, thinking of how I'm going to be soaking those white shorts and socks for a week. Have I mentioned how I loathe laundry? My wellies do not do much for warmth and I may have lost all use of my toes permanently. Nearly two hours he trained.

We enter the house, Mud man and Frozen me, to be greeted by Husband who is dressed to go for his run... "it should take an hour". The kids need lunch and the 7 year-old needs to wrap a gift and sign a card for his best friend's birthday that starts in an hour and a half...
I have to award him points. One look at my face and he decided he could do his "long" run on Monday. In a different country.

Daughter says some interesting things too. Some can't be repeated. REALLY would like to know where they come from...
Tonight, the kids are playing a game at the dinner table while I wash up the pans. It sounds a little like "Spin-the Bottle" but the "bottle" may be a fork being spun around on my nice wood table-- not sure. Don't want to look. I hear LOTS of laughter.

"THIS person," J2 declares, "Will have to stand on a chair and sing..."

giggle giggle followed by Hysterical laughing when the person is picked and has to do their dare.

Next turn, "This person... has to go on to Britains Got Talent and just fart and burp".

They're convulsing now.

"THIS person has to go on Britain's Got Talent NEKKED!"

Miss Ky shouts, "ME! Pick ME!"

1958 Ladies Home Journal Ad

Oh dear...

Life Isn't Like A Box of Chocolates...

2011-01-27T23:33:00.001Z

or a bowl of cherries...

it's more like a Thanksgiving dinner with a dysfuntional family.

There I'm standing in a hot kitchen. My hair hasn't been done and my makeup is from yesterday, and I'm holding a turkey I'm not overly proud of.

Despite my dreams of succulent meat and perfectly seasoned, crackling skin, I am holding a disappointment. This isn't how I wanted my turkey to be. It's not what I worked so hard for.

In comes MawMaw. I look to her for support. I quickly pour my sad turkey tale onto her shoulders.

She replies, "Yeah, that's how it is, I had a turkey like that".

I don't feel any better. I almost feel like her failed turkey comment is a veiled accusation-- like I was the reason for her disappointing turkey.

I'm not sad to see her back as she returns to the dining room.

My relief is short-lived. PooPoo enters. Oh Poo Poo. For years he's said what he means and what he says is mean, but he gets away with it because he is old. He takes one look at the turkey and says, "You know, if you disciplined those kids more, you'd have more time to have a terrific turkey. There's no reason they can't help you more-- activities, Pah! I never had activities when I was young, I worked and I worked hard. Your problem is you do too much for those kids and look where it got you."

Everybody Loves Raymond

It's gotten me a miserable turkey apparently.
My entire failed turkey can be blamed on the way I chose to raise my kids.
Such a ray of sunshine. So glad he's here. He may die in this decade so we all tolerate him.

People are buzzing past me like little garden bees, landing on pies and jiggley jello salads, some proclaiming that their cranberry sauce is the best anyone could ever hope for.

Side dishes people. Anyone can pull off a great side dish, but a whole, main course turkey?

Uncle Hee Hee comes into the kitchen for a drink. I love Uncle Hee Hee and tend to gravitate towards him at these family gatherings.
I show him my turkey. I know he will understand why I am wanting to crawl into my bed and live there for the rest of my time on Earth.
"Pull yourself up, girlie. I know people who aren't even lucky enough to have a turkey! My son has never had a turkey and he's nearly forty. He's gonna look back one day and be sorry for the decisions he made eating at fast-food places all of these years and here you are complaining because your turkey ain't perfect." He smiles and leaves with his lemonade.

Hmmm. Not quite the pep-talk I was expecting.

Feeling more than a little emotionally depleted now, I brace myself for Auntie Looloo.

It's not enough. No one can really brace for Auntie L.

"Oh, yeah. I had turkeys like that and you know what? I got through them. AND I worked full time and never had the luxury of trying to perfect my turkey-- noSir-ee, I worked hard and I accepted what came my way".

Little Miss Sunshine photo

Strange. All of this empathy, support, turkey condolences aren't making me feel any better.

I'm hoping Aunt Sweet will arrive shortly because all I want is for her to come in and put her arm around me and say, "I know Sweetie, I know." That's all. I don't want her to compare my turkey to hers, or tell me how I could have done better-- or worse, how I should never expect better.
I just want her to say, "I understand. It stinks sometimes and you are not wrong for feeling that way".

In my self-pitying state I am acutely aware that I carry a little of each of these people in me. I can't seem to listen to someone without one-upping or trying to fix them. At least I hope there's less of Aunt Looloo than the others in me!

Truth is, I'm actually a good cook and I have one of the fattest, juiciest turkeys around, it's just that the way it's come out of the oven isn't at all how I envisioned it. It's not the turkey I dreamed of having.
Hopefully, I can get it back on track, but for now, I'll try to focus on the gravy:
This experience could just mold me into some future distraught daughter/daughter-in-law or granddaughter's Auntie Sweet...
when she's standing alone in her futuristic kitchen wondering, "This is it?" I'll give her a hug and say, "I know sweetie".

Taking Pleasure in Punishing My Kids

2011-01-25T17:00:00.001Z

I'm a mean Mom.

I take away electronics.

I feel justified in doing so when said electronics seems to add to the antagonism and aggression that seems to run rampant in our home during down time.

I don't give a flying flip if kid did save up for a year just to buy his very own iPod Touch-- it's mine when you start biting everybody's head off.

This is what occurs after the initial shock (and withdrawal symptoms) subside...

Playing Wii Karaoke

After Wii Karaoke, some Wii fit on the board. See the two Wii controllers?

Maybe a little XBox action when that's over...Looks like Halo is the game in queue

XBox isn't complete without the Kinect...

Nobody make any sudden movements! That's a Shrink-ray gun by his feet!

Surely you know who this is?

Oh alright. Maybe this helps?

For Pete's sake, it's Simon Lappin!

Don't tell the kids that their sudden burst of creativity may have just nailed the lid shut on the electronic coffin.

Husbands Can Say Some Really Dumb Things

2011-01-24T21:49:00.000Z

Tonight he is reclining on the sofa. Feeling a little bad about the big crack on his iPhone from today's drop in the driveway. Watching football.

I had cooked dinner, helped two small kids make a dessert. Cleaned up. Prepared our Family Home Evening. Loaded the dishwasher after dinner. Began finally sorting out the paper mountain we accumulated over December when I was too busy to sort mail and school papers coming in by the tons.

Feeling a little guilty (neglectful), thinking Husband might need my calming, comforting presence, I sit down on the love seat and look at him sympathetically as he strokes his phone.

"I need to go back on the Wii Fit, that was really great the other day", he says with that dreamy look one gets after having a tropical holiday. "It's a really great workout, have you been on there lately?"

insert dramatic pause...

...you know, the one I should have taken...

before going into my tirade. (bless him, never saw any of this coming)

"Are you serious?! WHEN would I go on to the Wii? If I'm not cooking, cleaning, folding laundry or basically meeting everybody's needs, this TV is tuned into football or some ridiculous Disney Channel show that makes me want to gouge my eyes out and if the Wii is actually up and running, someone is playing FIFA!!"

quick breath... the kind you're trained to do as a singer... (bless him, never saw any of this coming)

"I don't ever have time to do anything like that and for the life of me, do NOT know how you fit it in this weekend while I was away! Housework around here is never done, the kids are always up to something..."

Somehow I don't think that's what he ever expected when he started that conversation. (bless him, never saw any of this coming) I think he may have even been holding onto some delusion of me patting his head saying, "Poor Little Bunny, you are putting on such a brave face speaking about workouts when your iPhone-obsessed heart is broken".

I'd love to say he won't bring it up again,

but he will.

Husbands can say some really dumb things sometimes.

Date Night Take Two

2011-01-17T19:47:00.000Z

One night, before the Christmas visit from our oldest Son, we had mind-sucking aliens enter our house. Since all of our memories were erased (of many failed attempts for Walton-family reunions of the past) we foolishly began planning all of the fun things we would do as a family.

Aware that the oldest probably hadn't had any of his memories stolen, we bought tickets for events without asking him. Ok, we knew he'd grumble, but with a ticket in front of him, how much could he really object? famous last words

Dad, ever the one with impeccable timing, presented our plans to a son who just traveled all night long in a cramped airline seat and was now facing a 3-hour life-risking drive with his father. He wasn't pleased.

"Why didn't anyone ask me if I wanted to do those things?"
"Because we knew you'd say no".

SO...

We dragged the entire bunch to London the see The Gruffalo. Son #1 made sure his feelings were known that we, as parents of multiple feral children, were incapable of herding our bunch through the tube systems of London and chose to do it himself causing everyone unnecessary stress.

The show was nice. The kids liked it. Oldest Son refused to talk to any of us for the entire tube ride back to the car. I think he liked the Gruffalo though... I didn't dare ask.

After that fun day out, we were grateful that we had fought the urge to spend a hefty sum to take us all to see the pantomime in Norwich.

Note 1:Pantomimes are a huge tradition during the Christmas and New Year period. In four years, we've never ventured out to see the "Dame" (man in drag) or to join in with the fun audience participation ("Oh no it isn't" "Oh yes it is!" and booing/hissing as the villain took the stage) because by the time we thought about it, the seats were booked.

Note 2: British people know how to plan holidays, booking a year in advance for trips or activities--we are slow-thinking Americans that can't make a decision on the day, much less a year in advance.

Hubby LONGED for the opportunity to shout back at the actors, "It's behind you!" He nearly pouted when we crossed it off our "Things to torture oldest son with during the holidays" list.

The anniversary rolled around and the thought of watching half of a movie or eating pizza in a family- restaurant/cubicle was discouraging, so I have to admit I might have been a wee bit snarky as the Hubby was frantically coming up with ideas.

However,

when he announced that he had just purchased tickets to the Panto in Norwich, I was thrilled on several levels.

1. He did something spontaneous for the first time in 14 years.
2. It was something we've never done before.
3. He did something spontaneous for the first time in 14 years that I didn't have to nudge him into, or book it, or pay for it.

We grabbed our coats and off we went.

As I sat there guffawing hysterically (yes, I nearly snorted), I was thinking that I definitely have to recommend to all 6 of my readers: if you are ever in England, you MUST SEE A PANTOMIME.

Now in retrospect, I'm not sure if that's wise. The humor comes from British politics, jabs at celebrities and local references (we REALLY enjoyed the Norwich City Football references, especially when they jeered at our football rivals, Ipswich Town).
One actor was wearing the bright yellow socks with green accents-- only a NCFC follower would even get that. Two actors are from popular nighttime soaps (remember how America was with Dallas or Dynasty?) whose celebrity status would be lost on a foreign visitor (you might catch on when the audience squeals as they appear on stage though).

Our good friends were so pleased that we enjoyed it since the Americans they took to a panto sat there looking like they were at a funeral.

I enjoyed our anniversary date SO much this year that we came straight home and booked this past friday to take the kids-- who loved it. Miss Ky couldn't quit talking about "the baddy who was good now" and A2 LOVED that kids his age were pulled up on stage.

I only wish we had forced Son #1 to see it.

Maybe we could needle him to come again next year and partake in another family bonding experience... he's got my DNA, surely he got some of my bad memory as well.

I'm Twins!!

2011-01-14T11:10:00.002Z

I've been a Gemini all of my life and I'm NOT changing. I refuse.

So ok, I don't rush out to read my horoscope and didn't plan my marriage according to the compatibility of our star signs (well not too much anyway), but I resent being told that I am now a Taurus because some moon and flighty planet decided to dance slightly differently.

Gemini's are two people. I can sweep my bipolar-like mood changes under a neat little "I was born under the Twins sign" rug. I can flit from one activity to another and when faced with accusations of ADD, reply, "No, I'm a Gemini".

You can't beat having a Leo mate. I have no idea what this new guy, the Cancer I seem to have married will be like, but Gemini's aren't supposed to get along with Cancer. Getting rid of a Cancerian (my word) in our life is like trying to get gum off the bottom of a shoe (read it in a book when I was younger, put down the rotten tomatoes). My husband will be STUCK to me now? And IF I'm really a Taurus, does Taurus like sticky, gummy husbands?

And my family? I have Aquariuses where I didn't before and Virgos where there were Libras. It's just all wrong. If I had to move, why couldn't I have fallen under the new sign Ophiuchus?

If you don't know what I'm babbling about, check out Timesonline . What new sign do you fall under?

*I sincerely hope no Cancers were hurt at the time of this writing... especially since apparently I am married to one.

Scary Noises

2011-01-13T12:47:00.000Z

I've just decided that nothing gets your heart pumping like the sound of a vacuum turning on in a room where you just left your 4 year-old doing crafts...

I think that's the quickest I have moved in years.

Date Night

2011-01-09T22:38:00.001Z

Hubby and I NEVER go out. Ever.

I think I can count on one hand how many times we've gone somewhere, just he and I, in the last 10 years. With so few to choose from, I can remember our dates in vivid detail... they're never good.

Last year for our anniversary, we had two lovely people who wanted nothing more than to sit with our kids while we went to Norwich for a special evening...

"What do you want to do?"
"I dunno, what do you want to do?"
"Well, we could see a movie"
"yeah..."
"Or we could go out and eat..."
"Yeah, um, what movies are playing?"

You get the idea. Two communicationally challenged people attempting an evening.

Last year we chose Sherlock Holmes. I've never been more disappointed in a movie. I mean, by the time we got our popcorn and such, the cinema was dark and we really had to struggle to find two seats together. People seemed irritated as we squeezed by-- holy cow folks, it's the first few minutes of a film, you'll be fine... but I was wrong!
The movie was instantly action-packed and didn't allow us to really get to know the characters. No development at all, so it was hard to know who to hate and who to cheer and we spent the first ten minutes trying to figure out the relationship between two main characters. Before you know it, the film wrapped up and we were left sitting there with mouths hanging open, "Huh?"

Yes. We had entered the wrong theatre and caught the last half of Sherlock Holmes.
It's how we roll.

So this year... free babysitting! Oldest son was home. The one who can't wait to see us all and then remembers just after his flight lands that he really doesn't like his siblings very much.... nevermind.
We didn't make plans. About 3 pm, oldest son asks what we're doing for our anniversary. He says he was pretty much counting on us going out.
Hubby and I look at each other with stunned expressions...

"What do you want to do?"
"I dunno, what do you want to do?"
"Well, we could see a movie"
"yeah..."
"We could go out and eat..."
"Is that REALLY all we can ever do together?!"

Hubby walks away, goes for the comforting purr of his mistress, the mac book.
Soon, I hear him on the phone negotiating...

To Be Continued...

I'm Having "A Change of Plans"

2011-01-08T19:53:00.001Z

In support of Family Movie Night another giveaway!

I am so thrilled to have an opportunity to support anything that is family oriented, the folks over at Walmart and P&G can't get rid of me.
Remember "A Walk in My Shoes"?
There's a new family movie airing today (Jan 8th) on Fox 8/7c. Change of Plans, starring Brooke White (from American Idol), Joe Flanigan, (Stargate Atlantis) and Phylicia Rashad (do you really NOT know?).

Here's how you line yourself up to win:

Comment, telling me ~~how awesome I am~~ all about how you intend to tune in

"Like" Family Movie Night on Facebook (and you should leave me a comment saying that you did because I'm not psychic)

Blog about it

post a FB status about it

just go to the Family Movie Night page to check it out (and again, you should tell me because...).

The best thing? It's happening tonight, so there's no chance that you'll forget...

Fine print: Contest ends at 8/7c USA time (you know, just as you turn on the telly...). This giveaway is open to USA readers.

Behind the Scenes of a Peaceful Beach Photo

2011-01-07T11:57:00.000Z

Everything is not as it appears... in fact, nothing is ever as it appears in our life.

You may need to click on the image to read it.

I have the house blissfully to myself and I've vowed not to spend it on the computer. I also vowed not to post before responding to the comments from the last few posts, but I didn't stick to that very well, did I?

I'm considering going comment-less until I catch up, any thoughts?

How do you keep up?

No Regrets

2011-01-05T18:33:00.000Z

Last night, just before switching off the computer, I decided to put up a quick post with photos of my oldest son from this Christmas holiday here in England.

Only I didn't have any decent pictures of him.

The lighting in our house leaves something to be desired and for most of his stay, one or all of us have been in our pjs.

There are certainly no family portraits or even a family snapshot with all of us in it--ever. That was my one goal this Christmas.

There was one day when everyone felt well, but the littlest brother was at his friend's house for the day.
There was the trip to London to see a show, but the 2nd-oldest child stayed home with the flu.
Every day was bitterly cold or the thickest fog blanket. Fate was working against me.

As I sat staring at a blank blog post in the quiet of the night, I got really melancholy at the realization that I was out of time. Today would be his last day with us- his siblings had school and Dad was back at work, so there wouldn't be anymore opportunities to take a decent family photo.

Sleep works wonders and this morning, I was determined to have no regrets, regardless if it meant stressing myself out (trying to figure out how to juggle everyone, getting them all home before the 3.30 sunset). I worried about it all morning. #1 Son and I did a quick trip to the seaside and shot some pictures of some nearby ruins, making it home by 1.00pm.

At 2.15 I headed out to begin the race against dusk...

and it began to tip down rain.

3.00, Husband headed straight home-- without passing Go to collect his $200.00.
3.25 I gathered the last child

3.40 We managed to have everyone in front of the house just as the light got difficult. We didn't worry about hair or whether our clothing had some uniformity. I told everyone NOT TO MOVE since I didn't want to have to resort to a flash.

Not bad for our very first full-family photo ever, huh?

Look who moved.

Classy all of the way.

I should become a professional photographer specializing in family portraiture.

Ho, Ho, Ho...yeah, whatever

2010-12-28T09:22:00.001Z

This unhappy looking child is making a statement.

He's not unhappy about the new Norwich kit Santa brought him or the new scooter (also from the Man Himself), he's unhappy because I am taking pictures.

Grumpy-face: "Why do I always have to do this?"

DO WHAT? Ride around on Boxing Day without a care in the world while I snap a few photos for your stinking scrapbook????

Yes, I did refrain. This is only a quote from my mind that seems to have developed a mouth-censorship (thank Heavens)

Grumpy-face: "Why do I always have to have my picture taken?"

Well, that's the catch right there, pal. You DON'T always have to have your picture taken. IF I was ALWAYS snapping photos, I'd be able to put them on my blog. Lovely Christmas photos of your sister vomiting, your big brother vomiting, your other big brother just staying on the toilet since it was easier, your Momma lying on her bed texting the word "help" to the few that hadn't been hit by the flu downstairs playing the Wii and
WOW,
there'd be loads of photos of the house slowly being taken over by laundry and dishes. I might have even caught a few action shots of the mysterious elves who BROKE our Christmas tree while the momma laid in bed with a bucket in her arms.

Oh yes! How about the photos of YOUR head hung in the toilet on Christmas Eve? Yeah, that would have been cause for declaring that you, "always have to have" your picture taken.

Censored Me: "You'll thank me when you're older and have these nice pictures to look at."

Grumpy-face: "Thank you", he mumbles unenthusiastically.

.

In the Air Tonight:

2010-12-13T18:16:00.001Z

There's a special someone flying overhead. Hohoho!

No, not him.

Look up and wave to my boy as he flies over your house please.

He's on his way to spend Christmas with us before he enters basic training in the Spring (who knew there was such a demand for basic training that one would have to wait in line for a space?). Dad's not deployed, there are no new babies, and we're not moving to a new house. I expect this to be a wonderfully calm visit.

After he lands and is tucked into a nice warm bed, THEN the "winter of the century" can move in--with my blessing.

For your viewing pleasure, I'll leave you with some more great British advertising:

Now, feel free to get back to your baking and wrapping and the mental insanity of it all. Don't you just love the wind up to Christmas?

A note to read at bedtime

2010-12-09T18:50:00.001Z

Dear Self,

Tonight, as you lie in your freezing cold bed, reflecting on the day: the kisses that weren't given, hugs that weren't distributed or conversations that weren't finished, guilt will set in.

You will consider how few days you have left with little ones at home and how little of your attention you gave them on this one day. You will be plagued with images from Family Fun and Parent magazines; of all of the great pre-Christmas activities you did NOT do today with the children. You will consider the books not read, the games not played and try to remember whether or not you even fed them.

This note is to tell you to stop!

This is a reminder of why those things weren't done:

The child who is "sick" still has enough energy to run an entire circus act by himself. He pulled out markers, crayons, asked for paper, asked for more paper, told you he was hungry, begged to go outside to play cricket (which like a good Mom you said "No", because he is, after all, sick).

Your daughter is a cyclone alone, but today she had an accomplice. She pulled out puzzles, the Little People barn and farm animals, raced her shopping cart through the house, sold you some pretend ice cream-- £3.oo a scoop-- needed scissors to cut out the tiny spiders she drew on some scrap paper.

As you searched for the kiddie scissors, you suggested she check the Arts & Crafts box in the other room. Big mistake. You then spent 30 minutes trying to get that room tidied back up since she apparently dug through every storage compartment.
You never even made it up to her room today to see what happened in there after she did four clothes-changes.

"Sick" boy wanted a round of "Football" (foosball). With the family champion (who is highly competitive--yes, even with a 7 year-old). The second game was much closer after you realized it was just as much fun scoring own goals.

They needed to eat a balanced lunch.

You set up a special table for them to eat at. They giggled and threw inedible objects in each other's soup. You then cleaned up the mess and put the little dining area away while the "sick" son declared his boredom and begged to go outside to play cricket (which you of course said, "No" to because he is, after all, sick).

As you baked the treats that are to go with one of the other kids' activity tonight, the two little ones wanted a movie. They didn't like the first one (Frosty) and you had to put in a new one (Rudolf) which was abandoned in less than 15 minutes.
Then they decided they wanted to do Jillian Michael's 30-day shred. Figuring someone should be getting some use out of it, you agreed.
They had to have the weights.
While you got Jillian and the hand weights out of your bedroom, you thanked God for a husband that made the bed this morning-- it had been niggling at you all day as one more thing you'd never get to today.

You put some laundry away-- or tried. The pile made it to the bottom of the stairs where you discovered the mountain of puzzle pieces on the bathroom floor. Your thoughts at that time were, "Awww, forget it" as you headed to the shower. At 2pm.

While in the shower, "sick" son came in. Of course. You haven't had an uninterrupted shower since 1994.
He wanted to know if he could go outside to play cricket.

As you filled your lungs to belt out the resounding "NO. YOU CAN NOT GO OUTSIDE, YOU ARE SICK" line, something caught your eye--through the tempered glass... sunshine? The sun is shining?

After a detailed description of what he needed to be wearing (similar to Ralphie's brother's going-out-in-the-snow outfit), you told him he could go outside. Sick child was finally free.

The daughter had to go out too. It required another clothes change.

Ten minutes, back in they came. They needed keys for the garage. They were going to play baseball instead.

The sun left. It does that at 3.30.

You still hadn't combed your hair and only had half of your make up on and technically, the day was already over.

2 more kids related to you popped into the house. They wore the smell of the outside world on their clothes. Their cheeks were flushed with freedom. They with were famished from being out in the fresh air with friends. They began trying to sneak the treats finally finished for tonight before even dropping off their backpacks.

So, you started dinner early.

One child was already holding a yogurt. Other children complained. All ate yogurts. It's easier that way.

The table was set.
The dishwasher was unloaded.
The dinner was put on the table, accompanied by a silly game of, "For Christmas dinner I had..." that ranged from ham and turkey to "edible grass".

You did not cut intricate snowflakes with your children today.
You didn't hug and kiss them for hours on end. You never sang carols or read stories about cookie-eating mice. You didn't put on any puppet shows with sock puppets made from the laundry basket or make homemade ice cream sandwiches, because...

THERE AREN'T ENOUGH HOURS IN THE DAY, that's why.

Now go to sleep and try to do better tomorrow.

P/S You did feed them.
P/SS Try to remember that one day you will look back and laugh at how Miss Ky thought your brand new book of postage stamps was stickers...

For Your Own Good

2010-12-08T09:55:00.000Z

My little blossom,
sweet, sweet flower...

Will you ever trust me,
when I am telling you something for your own good?

I have been around long enough
to see the signs-
the warnings,
my purpose here is to counsel...

Can't you trust me to guide, protect
and love you?

No... you are young,

reckLeSs,

naive...

you consider yourself

indestructable.

Others around you heeded the warnings...

Others listened...

I hate watching you suffer because of bad choices

Next year,

when a freaky warm spell sweeps through,

will you trust me...

when I ask you to NOT BUD in NOVEMBER?

Seriously, this happens every year. Will you ever learn?

A Cold, Hard Look At Myself

2010-12-04T08:30:00.000Z

If news stories of our bitter freeze over here in the U.K. are reaching the U.S., believe them, they are not exaggerating.
If there are reports of YETI being seen in Norfolk,
don't lose sleep, it's just me.

I refuse to shave my legs while shivering.

You would think that a country as old as England could come up with a better way to heat houses than oil-fueled radiators. Maybe it's "greener", I don't know or care. I personally would like to leave a footprint when I'm gone-- one's got to be remembered for something, right?
As it is, I am burning more oil than the fires of the Gulf War.

The husband hasn't remarked on the legs yet. I don't think he's had much of an opportunity with me bundled in flannel and a talking min-beast between us 8 out of 7 nights (yes, that often).

There's an incredible freedom to be being furry and I feel I am helping to enforce the belief in my daughter that there is more to a person than cosmetics...

And then she brings me this:

"It's You." She says.

I wonder if there are any gritters on the roads. I may need to make a quick run to Tesco for depilatories.

The LDS Living website is emailing me daily with "12 Days of Christmas" tips.

Day One was "Get Organized"... Days Two, Three and Four are now lost on me because I'm getting organized. This isn't as fun or as helpful as I expected.

How are you doing with your plans?

We're all Winners

2010-12-03T07:31:00.000Z

I'm proud to have been part of Go USA bid.

I'm not proud that it reduced me to being the woman standing next to the salad section of a grocery store hanging onto a mobile phone signal with desperation while waiting for the winners of the World Cup to be read out by her sick son who should have been in bed resting-- not standing next to ESPN.

diagram THAT sentence Mrs. Hutton.

Yesterday I truly wished for a meteor to land on my car. I had about 5 hours too many with a child who talks non-stop. I actually begged her to give her voice a rest...

"The Mums on the bus go 'chittah chattah chittah chattah'... "
"Mummy, it snowed even more on the hard floors outside"
"Why are you driving slow?" "Why are we stopping?" "Where are the brothers?"

THEN

She ended up in my bed where she moaned, cried and talked in her sleep.

NASA says there are waaay more stars and galaxies out there than they first believed...
and not one meteor could find it's way to me.

Well today is another day. A chance to get it right with the sick boy who had to be neglected, with the Energizer Chatter Box, with the military postal service who just MAY have my DVD today...

Today is also the day when I can announce the winner of the A Walk in My Shoes DVD/CD bundle:

MOM24

Congratulations!!

From a distant room in the house is someone singing. 3 Guesses who has already started her day...

Bad Influence

2010-12-02T09:39:00.000Z

I keep my children home when they say "cough cough, my tummy hurts". I'm a sucker for a kid who wants to be home on a snowy school day. Actually, I buy it more if said kid is the one who gets up at dawn and is completely ready to leave 45 minutes before he has to AND will be missing out on the Rugby practice that he lives for. how many times in one paragraph can I end a sentence with a preposition?

So, being the awesome example of the mom that I am, Of course I am tending to his needs and am not blogging or reading blogs today (cough). IF I had been out, I might have read an awesome holiday post over at Cheeseboy's place that I would have probably highly recommended...
and included a link to get you there quickly....

A Walk In My Shoes

2010-11-30T23:03:00.002Z

It's that time again when things get "busy, busy, busy" (please say it like the magician from "Frosty the Snowman") and I begin to neglect my blog (begin?).
Because I am NOT above paying people to stick around despite my temporary absence, I have a gift...

Remember when there was a "family hour" on T.V.?

You know, the safe time when kids could be in the room while the tube was on?
One didn't have to worry about language, inappropriate viewing or commercials of girls obscenely washing their hair.
Some of you may not remember good, clean shows. Sad. I do and I miss it.
I really miss how families used to be able to gather around on the weekend to watch a family show (without Dad holding the remote readied for a quick change when things get seedy).

This is why I was more than happy to review Walmart and P&G's new made-for-TV movie, "A Walk in My Shoes". They are heralding that, "family movie night is back". Hallelujah. It's about time.

I have a confession. Thanks to my ever-dependable military postal system, my viewing kit still hasn't arrived. Chances are good that you will see it before I do, but I have seen trailers and I'm SO ready.

Do yourself a favor, set your TIVO or whatever it is you're using for "family movie night" on December 3rd.
PLEASE show Hollyweird that we're ready for more entertainment geared for families. If you Tweet, FB or blog a tune-in message about this,
leave me a comment telling me how you spread the word and you will be entered to win this "A Walk in My Shoes" CD/DVD bundle for your very own!

oooooh, aaaaaaaah....

Winner will be announced on December 3rd. THAT's a pretty nice gift for getting a few days reprieve from unnecessary eye strain, don't you think?

Technologically-Challenged Need Not Apply

2010-11-29T14:41:00.000Z

I give up. I'm exposing myself for the technologically inept person I am.
HOW the heck do I get the Link within widget to work?
Please don't tell me to contact them, they don't care.
I have googled solutions and nearly crashed my entire blog.
What am I doing wrong?
Teach me.
I'm humble, I'll listen.

Oh. And it's snowing here. loads. I'm happy about it.

Ch ch ch changes

2010-11-27T14:51:00.001Z

This year we're having a kid tree.

Boooo to me, trying to impress people with House Beautiful-worthy trees and color-coordinated decorations. We're changing. This year it's just kids enjoying Christmas--the way it should be when they're young. I don't know how I became so un-fun, but hopefully I can make up for it.

The girl is wide-eyed and enjoying all of our moving ornaments for the first time. Her dad is changing our UK lights to accommodate our US Darth Vader, skating Pooh and Brenda Lee singing "Rockin' Around, the Christmas Tree..." it's magical.

You can predict what she will say, this little princess of ours...

"I want to be a boy"

(what, you didn't see that coming?)

Dad: "Oh, I don't want you to be a boy, you make such a pretty little girl"

"I'm stuffed being a girl"

(stuffed?)

"Everything gets in my eyes"

Dad: "Oh, are we going to have to cut your hair off?"

"Yes. I will be bald like a fish".

Ahhh, the sounds of the holidays...

Dear Hubby,

2010-11-24T12:04:00.000Z

I know you said our finances were tight.

I understand how our Cost of Living allowance has plummeted even though the cost of things on the UK market hasn't changed, and that the plane ticket to bring Number One Son home for Christmas before he enters Basic Training was pricey.

I get that.

I also know that inviting 12 additional people to Thanksgiving might have increased our grocery bill a teeny bit and so you were right to reign in my spending habits...

but I miss Stefan and Damon (not so much Elana). Last I saw, Damon really needed a hug...

(certainly not my photo and can't find info for photo credit)

I miss Alicia and I don't know if she chose Will or Peter and I don't know how much longer
the UK will make me wait to find out.

CBS Photos

I really miss my friends, McDreamy and McSteamy...

I miss my night time friends that allow me to sit in my jammies while they do all of the talking. They never ask anything of me-- they don't demand meals without cheese, without sauce, without eggs, without yucky things. They never leave me their laundry or expect me to drop everything when their schedule changes. They never require my attendance at training or organizational meetings. Not once has any of them dumped a boat load of responsibilities on me while they went off to visit family or attend parties. They are good friends. I miss them. I'm sure I mentioned that Damon needs me.

So,
if you could kindly disregard that list I subtly emailed you back in August, I think an iTunes Gift card would be a better Christmas gift.

Thank you.

Respectfully Yours,

Your Wife. The one watching QI re-runs (which happened to be very good the first few viewings, but I am answering the questions before they do now).

Confessions...

2010-11-21T17:20:00.000Z

... yours not mine. I've told enough out here.

I think teaching on Sunday may be bad for my marriage and role as mother.
Today's lesson was about "Participating in the Cultural Arts".
It only succeeded in convincing me that I live with a bunch of Neanderthals, lead by the king of uninterested-in-all-things-artsy, Sir Sexy Guy.

As I was making Lasagna (when truthfully I should be in bed suffocating in a Vick's body wrap), they all played Fifa and grunted when they couldn't get their "player transfers" approved.
I ~~lectured~~ suggested to them some parts of my lesson: "...what are ways in which (you) can seek to enrich (your) lives with the cultural arts and prepare to enrich the lives of (your) children and others?

• Go to the library and select a classic work of literature to read alone or with a friend.
• Read aloud with your family.
• Read a favorite poem or share a piece of music with your family and tell why you like it.
• Write a poem yourself or lyrics for a piece of music.
• Write a dramatization of a scriptural story for your class or family.
• Look through your music and books and eliminate those that are not uplifting.
• Begin or add to your collection of quality music or books.
• Frame some beautiful artwork for your room.
• Try sketching, lettering, drawing, or some other form of art.
• Study a play, piece of music, or opera before attending a performance.
• Be selective about television viewing and watch for educational and cultural programs."
*taken from lesson 45 of the YW Manual.

They looked at me as if I was speaking Latin-- which of course would be unappealing to them as it doesn't have penalties or free kicks involved.

Eternity is looking like a very long time right now, so I need some convincing. Confessions.
Do you and your spouse have a lot in common? Or are you alone in your interests/culture/education?

Is this just a midlife crises, this desire to have someone who knows that Monet and Manet are two different beings and not just a mispelling?

Edouard Manet "Un Bar Aux Folies Bergeres"

Look at her face... do you think she's pondering the same questions?

Is it possible this disheartening feeling is curable with more Nyquil and some sleep?

Ornament Exchange and Great British Advertising

2010-11-17T07:35:00.000Z

I ~~crashed~~ found a new blog doing an ornament exchange.

Great thing is, The Mrs. was gracious enough to welcome me and my obnoxious way of

inviting myself everywhere.

If you're like me and can't wait to mail or receive goodies,

the deadline to sign up is November 20th-- get on over there now if you want to play!!

(click on the ornaments to go to her blog, "Trying Our Best")

And obviously I am not the only person who enjoys this advert-- they're re releasing it as a single now.
Making Farming Sexy

Bits and Bobs

2010-11-16T10:59:00.000Z

We were sitting semi-reverently in church on Sunday.
Miss Ky was properly positioned on the lap of the man she adopted as "Grandad" four years ago.
She proceeded to pull things out of her pockets that she had drawn while in her primary class.
"Wow Ky, that's really terrific, did you draw that?" I whisper.
She nods yes to me.
I don't want to be one of those Mom's that speaks zombie-like and generically to her child, so to show I was really interested in her drawing, I pointed to the face and said, "You are very talented, just look how good those eyes are".
"Yes", she proudly answers, "And I drawed the girly bits as well."

A Swan.
I am like a swan gliding effortlessly on the water in my response.

I calmly begin folding the drawing and whisper that we'll talk more about it after church but my mind, paddling frantically against the possibilities wonders: Did Grandad just hear her? Did she proudly point out the "girly bits" to her Primary teacher? WHO ON EARTH HAS BEEN TEACHING HER THIS ??
I lean out to look further down our row at a very mischievous 7 year old...

All I know is Miss Ky will NOT be designing our Christmas cards this year

Shiny Happy Grateful People

2010-11-10T14:13:00.000Z

All of you people who are posting all of the things you are grateful for...

who are you?

Really?

30 days of being grateful?

Ok, I'm joking. I have LOADS of things to be grateful for-- so many that I will skip the obvious/cliche ones.

I am grateful for not being thrown up on this month (Hubby can't say that).
I am super grateful that I have internet to shop for the things that the base only felt the need to stock two of.
I am again grateful for the internet that allowed me to see reviews on the dysfunctional Disney bath dolls that I would have bought willy-nilly if there had been one to buy at the BX.
I am grateful for spam that leads to free products for me-- just for flappin' my lips about their product. Who Hoot! Bring on the chocolate reviews!
I am grateful Toys R' Us didn't feel the need to contact me for a review because, who needs more toys in the house? (Did that come across as bitter?)
Boy howdy am I grateful for my kettle. You people in the U.S., I don't know if you have these yet, but water kettles over here bring cold agua to a rapid boil in seconds. Makes my life SO much easier!
I am eternally grateful for toilet paper. We could be using leaves and this time of year that's not so appealing. Crunch.
I'm still thankful for being sick a few weeks ago even if I didn't lose weight...long story why I would be grateful and now you can be thankful I'm not telling it.
SO grateful that I was able to hand the phone over to the Hubby so HE could try to talk some sense into the #1 Son who is giving up on his dream (Special Ops) job and settling for an AF career as "Bomb-take-apart-er" (that may not be the official title).
Grateful for tranquilizers which I plan to exist on when the kid signs the contract to dispose of bombs for the next 6 years.
Cliche, I know. Top of everybody's list, yes, but still have to say I am SO FLIPPING THANKFUL FOR PUMPKIN PIE and a holiday (or two) that allows me to make and eat as much of it as I want.
I'm thankful for EGGNOG too as long as we're on the menu.
SUPER duper grateful that no one in my family feels they need green bean casserole to have a successful T-day dinner.
I am thankful for Jamie Oliver's storage containers that make me work for my salt water taffy, thereby reducing my consumption since I seem to break a nail every time I try to pop one open.
I am eternally thankful for toilet cleaner "that cleans so (I) don't have to", thus allowing me more time to blog nonsense.
This is a long thankful, but my most important one: I am grateful that when Son #1 was discouraged by his swimming time and decided to throw in the towel (see #9 and 10), I didn't lecture. I only fretted for a minute and then prayed. I prayed that it would be His will whatever was going to be J's future. I'm grateful that I really turned it over and didn't stress about it. It helped me more fully appreciate the phone call the very next day, "Hey, I have a job"--and it's in broadcasting. His recruiter had him audition several weeks ago and was just told that J was successful.
I'm grateful for the moms and dads that have raised honorable sons and daughters willing to sacrifice their lives in service in the military for my rights and privileges. May you experience peace and comfort during this Veteran's Day away from your loved one.
I'm grateful for Sexy Guy--for his dedication to serving his country and for all he does as a husband and a father. Especially for taking one for the team whenever there's a sick child. Thank you for saving my carpet time and time again, Hubby ;-)

Now, the rest of you, be grateful that I'm not really going to make you read 30 things...

Happy Veteran's Day weekend to you all.

Great British Advertising: Bing Crosby, White Christmas for Argos

2010-11-09T19:08:00.000Z

Is it wrong that I thought this was funny?

Oh Chrissy You're So Fine...

2010-11-08T21:49:00.000Z

Remember last year when I got nostalgic about my childhood and had to have (just fill in the blank)?

How about the crazed search I went on to find a Koo Koo Choo Choo that I wouldn't let the family play with for fear of breaking it since it's considered "antique" now?

not my photo...duh

Or the year before when I spent one child's college fund on a doll's house?

Non-pirated photo

Well this year is the worse.

Not because of what I may have spent (not telling), but because I spent it and then hid the purchase. I have never hidden purchases before.

I am slipping down a very deceitful toy-slope my friends.

Shhhh, I'll show you.

Under my desk, in the dark corner...

See it there in the back?

Here, I'll pull it out a little.

Opening the box...

ooooh, ahhhh.

Smell that smell?

That's the 70's my friends.

My mom heard my confession (I think I phoned her still in the shopping-drunken stupor of my paypal transaction).

She's not telling Hubby and look!

She even mailed me the clothes that she sewed for the originals (can't get fabric like that just anywhere!).

Is there a 12-Step program for toyaholics?

What are YOU hiding these days?

seeing them standing in my scrapbook room like that suddenly gives the cherished dolls from my childhood a very creepy feel.

Get back in the box girls, Hubby's coming!

Addendum: I just did a search for "bought" on my blog and found some "interesting" blog posts... a lot of them. Apparently I talk a lot about "bought"ing, but when trying to remember what I just had to have last year, came up blank. Oh dear...

Your Momma's Gone Missing

2010-11-07T16:12:00.000Z

In the event that your Momma has gone missing,

it's best to retrace your steps to see where she might have been mislaid.

Go back as far as your memory will take you-- Thursday night?

Let's see, you might have seen her come home from her big church event that had caused her a week of stress (and a snapped party tent from the high winds that threatened her plans).

You might remember her standing at Dad's car saying, "What is that burning smell?" followed by a forlorn look when she realized yet again, she would be without a car while his went back into the garage.

Wait, she was still accounted for Friday morning when she was called back to the school to fetch a little girl who was miserably constipated... and you might remember her (vaguely) at the Guy Fawkes Bonfire evening with friends. She was the one who sat in the bathroom the whole night with Miss Ky while you all ate BBQ'd burgers and set off fireworks.

No, Mom wasn't missing at 9.00pm when Miss Ky threw up and she hoisted up the white flag-- deciding to finally take her home...
and didn't Mom greet everyone else at 10.00 when they came laughing in the door?

Saturday?

Pretty sure she was still doing bathroom duty with Miss Ky and when everyone but Mom piled into a car to go see the Norwich game, she was still accounted for.

Maybe it was after the full day standing in the bitter cold wind and sporadic rain for a kids' football game and then suffering through a burned burger with greasy chips with the team (you know, the new thing they started to build social bonds between the kids)...

You might seem to remember her setting up a table to scrapbook on (a joke on it's own)-- conveniently placing a chair next to it. Convenient for you to swipe for Rock Band while she put your dinner in the oven.
Remember how she sneezed and coughed and blew her nose every five minutes while you sang, and drummed and laughed merrily away in the other room?

That seems to be when she went missing.

My advice is, when you find her, you better do the sucking up of your life because the woman knows how to use a credit card and flights are always leaving Heathrow...

Dear School Officials Who May Or May Not Be Preparing A Report For The Child Neglect Agency,

2010-11-02T11:10:00.000Z

I do wash my children's clothes. Daily. Meaning ALL day every day.
Maybe my observation skills could be sharpened so that I catch the child who chose the muddy trousers over the lavendar-vanilla scented ones hanging in his wardrobe before we get in the car, but I only have two eyes and four children moving about so rapidly they appear more like eight Mexican jumping beans.
The third child's collection of school jumpers? Thank you for forcing him to finally bring them home. Unfortunately I found them after midnight, rolled into his swimming bag with all of his wet things...

I do bathe my children regularly.
I can't control what they do while I am asleep (for the three hours I am NOT doing laundry), nor can I stop them from playing musical bed during the night--possibly ending up with a sibling who drools. The Pop Rocks? I have NO idea how they got in the bed and do have a photo proving that her hair was washed prior to sleeping in them.

If you are unhappy with the way my children fall asleep in Math class, I welcome you to come look after them while I drive siblings to activities (which puts the entire clan to bed long after the pubs have closed). I assure you, I have gladly made the decision to cut non-priority items from our schedule. If you could just help me enforce that decision--beginning with asking my Hubby to try NOT cutting his finger off just before dinner. Driving to a hospital an hour away can really wreak havoc on sleeping schedules. And yes, Mr. Graceful is fine.

Also, kindly disregard any tall-tales you may have heard today of a mother beginning her child's day with: "What were you thinking?!" and "I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry, but 30 years from now you will NOT EVEN REMEMBER THIS DAY, much less be angry at me for making you late", it's probably something they heard on the television.

By the way...why WOULD I apologize for driving one kid ALL THE WAY TO HIS SCHOOL (now making three others late) because he missed the bus when I insisted he SHOWER?

Lastly, the youngest child really didn't want me there for her special school tour and had repeatedly told me so. Out of respect for her growing independence, I thought it was best to leave her to it in your lovely little classroom with the sand box (and her friends) while I chatted with the other parents (who had obviously chosen to do the same thing).

So in case your first impression is that my children are unattended, tired, disheveled and dirty, I ask that you would look again. My children are fed, clean and relatively unbeaten which is better care than I'm getting-- have you ever had a four year-old kick you in the kidneys while you were trying to sleep (in between loads of laundry)?

You are welcome to come to our home at any time to observe their care. They are available for your supervision any day ending with "y".

Kindest Regards,

The wild beasts' Mum.

Ma'am, I'm Afraid I Have Some Terrible News...

2010-10-31T22:58:00.001Z

* I am happy to report...

that for the first year since I began blogging, I will not be participating in this year's NaBloPoMo (posting every day in November), which means your reader won't be bogged down with senseless drivel about the latest shoes I've found.

You are very welcome.

But to kick off November, here's a post written like I think...

* "Ma'am, I'm Afraid I Have Some Terrible News... "

I can't imagine anything worse...

wait I can--

I often contemplate the "which child would I save?" scenario...

but I digress, already, in the opening sentence.

Sundays kill me. Mentally and physically. I often want to come home, feed everyone and then tuck into a cozy bed for an hour (or eight). A couple of Sundays back, I did it. I took two children and "The Gruffalo" movie with me, even though it was crazy-sunny outside for the first time in days.

I fell asleep instantly, but it was fitful. My brain wouldn't slow down and in my semi-consciousness, I seemed to be struggling to remember what day it was and where I was supposed to be that evening.

I was awakened by the door bell.

Why are doorbells always so shrill and frightening?

Knowing I probably had a crumpled-sheets print on my face, I chose to look out the window first.

There, parked behind my car was a police vehicle

and there at my front door,

stood a policeman.

When our friend Dave was killed on his motorcycle, his wife was at a school meeting and so their 16 year-old daughter opened the door to the policemen. One stayed with her while others were dispatched to the school to tell his wife, D.

I looked back at my bed... only one child and the house is eerily quiet.

I looked again at the policeman standing outside at my unanswered door.
Where did my family go? Were they driving? Were they killed? ALL of them?! Did they walk somewhere on these treacherous, England back-country roads?

Are any of them still alive?

The door opened.
I could see my husband's long and very alive legs. That's when my brain finally kicked in... the uniformed police was Ian. Our friend.
His wife T (with the gorgeous blue eyes) had sent him over with a party invitation.

He's been told to never wear his uniform over here again--I don't care how sexy he looks in it.

*My family is playing Beatles Rock Band.

Miss Ky is always insistent on being the lead singer.

A d a m a n t about having the microphone.

Diva.

Did anyone else suddenly get a craving to put on some Adam Ant music?

*Something else this strong-willed child is determined about:

sugar.

We went to London and had a picnic lunch with some other families. Someone brought chocolate biscuits (cookies) which Miss Ky wanted to hoard for her very own. We ordered her to put several of the packages back.

10 minutes out of the car park, an announcement was heralded from the back seat by Son #2,

"May Day! May Day! Clean up on aisle three!!!"

We turned back to see Miss Ky with a single coating of chocolate on all exposed skin parts.

HOW does this happen?

The little beast smuggled biscuits, that's how.

*The Hubby is singing the Beatles Birthday Song. It's frightening. Something between Michael Stipes and The B52s... not in a good way, since I happen to like REM and The B-52s.

*Tomorrow begins another week of packing lunches; running insanely through our over-scheduled routine; mountains of muddy football laundry; church training meetings, school activities...

did I mention laundry? Yay.

Yes, I would miss it all

if I suddenly had the police at my door.

The lavender leotard is because someone fancies herself the "Princess and the Pea"- sensitive against all things itchy.
I am perfectly aware it does not match.

Hope you all had a happy Halloween, from our chaos to yours!

Great British Advertising

2010-10-30T09:00:00.000+01:00

Great British Advertising-Specsavers

2010-10-29T11:53:00.000+01:00

Pearls of Wisdom or Not

2010-10-29T11:38:00.000+01:00

When the leg & body hair removal cream says "Not for faces", they mean it. The good side is, when the blistering goes away, I may have the lovely skin only acquired after an expensive chemical peel. In the meantime, my Halloween scary face is set.

After spending a week in bed horribly ill, it is a bad idea to attempt to move heavy furniture no matter how much it's placement has bothered one during one's confinement. The good side is, a couple more days in bed will usually help the muscle spasms in one's back.

A week plus in bed can help one take stock of their blessings. Mine are: I own enough BBC and ITV Jane Austen films to get me through such a time; my 12 year-old can cook basics like mac and cheese and frozen pizza to throw at his unsupervised siblings home on school holiday; iphone (insert Heavenly Choir here) to check email and send txt messages to the kids like, "It's getting a little wild down there", "Go outside, the sun is shining!" and "Could you please bring me another water bottle?"; I happen to like broth and water--great blessing.

My first foray back into the world was yesterday-- to run a Harvest Festival at our church. A Harvest Festival that had been calendared the previous year by the Activity Committee that was no longer, so it was passed on to "the youth" which loosely translates, "to the youth leaders" which, if broken down further, means "the youth leaders that are women who won't shirk their responsibilities" of which there are two, myself and my counselor.

Being one of the few key holders, I had the honor of opening the building, getting the heat going and setting up. The other youth leaders showed at the start time of the event.

One of the highlights was a Chili Cook-off.

In New Mexico when you have a chili cook-off, you kind of know what to expect. Deep red-brown, meaty chili with or without beans. "Hot" means sweat drips down into your ears while you eat it.
Here, chili could be spaghetti bolognese or a fish-based sauce with wheat.
If there's green chili added to the base, it should be labeled as "hot".

While passing out cornbread (that's a whole other post, but believe me, explaining one-by-one to over fifty people that "it is NOT cake and yes, should be eaten with chili" gets old really quick), my daughter tugs on my pants leg and looks up at me to say, "I threw up". I believed her, her breath wreaked of it.

Being one of the few key holders, I stayed for another hour and forty-five minutes longer and was the last to clean up and lock the building while my daughter sat in the car with a bucket--after being in bed myself for 10 days. I'm about to throw my exclusive church key at a few of our leaders...

when my face has healed.

Happy Halloween!!

F.O.U.R.

2010-10-10T11:44:00.000+01:00

"Anything I've done up till May 27th 1999 was kind of an illusion, existing without living. My daughter, the birth of my daughter, gave me life." ---Johnny Depp

I get it.

Happy Birthday my sweet, funny little girl.

Thank You

2010-10-07T18:46:00.000+01:00

Thanks everyone for your kind comments, prayers and good thoughts (sent in my general direction).

I just received a call and my dad is out of surgery. He's doing well and they feel the cancer was contained to the prostate, so they are very optimistic.
This moment of profound relief just took me back to another phone call I got about the time I started blogging, so in my continued 'absence', I'll leave you with that post.

Again,
Thank you!

Saturday, November 17, 2007

saturday in my part of the world

Today began with a phone call at 3:05 am.

It wasn't one of those dreaded calls where your life changes forever, it was the welcomed call.
My step-dad just arrived home after a four hour drive from the city where he had emergency surgery. He had suffered a heart attack while in the hospital for observation and was flown to Salt Lake City. I can't even begin to tell you what a nightmare this week was.

30 years ago, my mother came home alone from a bowling tournament that my (biological) dad was competing in. She told me later that he had just bowled and when he turned around, he had the funniest (not as in "ha ha funny") look on his face and she knew something was wrong. He sat down beside her and she began to take his pulse. She said that she knew something wasn't right so she called an ambulance.
He was angry with her for doing so, and refused to get on the gurney.
He made it to the door of the bowling alley when he collapsed.
My dad died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital from a massive heart attack. He was 47. I was an adolescent.

So here we are 30-some years later and my step-father (who has been my father on this planet longer than my bio dad was able to be) returned home with my mom.

It's amazing how quick a mind that can't keep track of soccer schedules (or parent conferences) can remember in vivid detail how the room looked when awakened to be told my father wasn't coming home. I am sure in thirty more years I will remember the relief I felt today when my 'other' Dad called to say, "Are you sure you want to be called in the middle of the night just to hear I'm home?"

You Were Saying?

2010-10-06T08:24:00.000+01:00

My mother always said, "If you can't say anything funny, don't say anything at all..."

I've tried not to bore anyone with all of my seriousness, but not writing for me is the equivalent of closing myself in a closet until I feel better.

My dad will have his prostate removed in the morning. My mother is 76 and last time he had surgery, she needed medical attention because she forgot to take care of herself. She's alone and I can't get there.

My friend and her tumor has been moved to specialists. She will see the thyroid specialist today.

Number One Son HAS enlisted-- managed to get all of the paper work sorted finally-- and took his Oath of Enlistment last week. He now has to complete his PAST test to qualify for the job he wants and I can't stand that his Dad isn't there to help him prepare.

He postponed his test (due today) because he wasn't making the numbers. The information he sent me:

Event              My Number        Required Minimum for _________
(without stopping)

200m swim.    pff.. how far is 200m, anyway?     no limit.
(30 min rest)
1.5 mile run                 12:13.86                         11:30.00
(10 min rest)
Push-ups in 2 mins        37                                           42
(2 min rest)
Chin-ups in 2 minutes      8                                      6
(2 min rest)
Sit-ups in 2 minutes       44                                          50

Hubby spent an hour on the phone coaching him in the most efficient ways to complete each task.

The other kids are getting to their activities and meeting obligations (barely) with a very distracted mother. I know that I have a glassy-eyed look and am responding semi-coherently in conversations, but they are clean, fed and have not been sent to school nekked yet.

The other day, on our 45 minute drive to the base, Miss Ky was chattering a mile-a-minute. I thought my head would explode. I started wishing that my head would explode.
I thought back to Son #3 and how easy it was to travel with him. He wasn't interested in conversing no matter how hard I tried. I realized now he's a lot like me. He likes quiet to think and ponder.
And as I was pondering that,

Ky bursts out with:
"I'm so happy Jesus made me, because we're (she and I) are BEST friends! I love you Mommy."

Me too sweetie, me too. Despite how my actions may argue otherwise.

Which Way Did sHe Go?

2010-09-27T23:40:00.000+01:00

Sorry, the author of this blog has gone AWOL. Please enjoy this station identification while we try to locate the lazy sod.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Sitting in the doorways...

Wow. That was some experience.
On an almost nightly basis,
we have a little man come creeping into our room,
where I (the super light sleeper) will lift the blanket and wrap it around him as he climbs in.

Last night, after singing several horrendous rounds on Wii Karaoke American Idol, I was sleeping like a brick (nothing like thirty minutes of tearful, hard laughter to help you sleep).

Me before 1 am

Along comes the heaviest, nosiest child I have ever experienced.
He stomps up the stairs, jumps up and down beside my bed and begins shaking it.

Alright, I know I was sleeping soundly for a couple of reasons:

1. My bed is a sturdy African Cherry Wood bed that stands high enough that with even my tall 9-year old, the mattress hits him about mid chest-- pretty hard to move the thing around.

2. I also can't imagine how any stomping could sound like a freight train.

But, still fuzzy headed from the sound sleep, I lifted the blanket for that noisy sleep-disruptor, but he didn't get in. In fact, there was no one there.
That's when my husband and I sat up simultaneously and said, "What the cARp was that?!"

We came downstairs to look around, still trying to determine: Was there a mangled plane crashed somewhere in our garden? Was our house side-swiped by a juggernaut? [All Things British moment: this is what we would call an 18-wheeler. It's a large lorry, or truck]

As I'm tossing these ideas around in my head, I knew it was probably an earthquake and was typing in the address for the U.K. Seismology department.
Couldn't get through.
(funny thing about that, the morning news stations keep quoting the U.S.G.S. Dept. I know where to go next time). (next time?!)

My high-strung husband (not) then says, "I'm going back to bed".

"What?! What about the after shocks? What about the kids?".

I blogged (of course) and then sat in front of the telly listening to callers sharing their experiences.

Hats off to you in the western states. I would move. Some people find this stuff exciting. I find it thrilling much in the same way participating in a 36-car pile-up on the freeway would be.

My dusty, useless degree contains a minor in Geology. I, unfortunately, know what is happening inside the earth to shake the outside hard enough to mimic a stomping child and I don't like it.
Earthquakes have a way of reminding me how little control I have over the grand scheme of things and how little God consults with me before making any final decisions. I don't like it.

What I do like is the British sense of humour.
They're playing Martika's version of "I Feel the Earth Move" today.

Oh wait, I think there's something coming across the telly on the news ticker...

"Largest earthquake felt in Britain in 25 years said to have been caused by...

...some really horrendous karaoke somewhere near Norwich."

Uh oh. The Americans have done it again.

September

2010-09-23T09:41:00.000+01:00

Earth, Wind and Fire:

"Do you remember the 21st night of September?
Love was changing the mind of pretenders
While chasing the clouds away

Our hearts were ringing
In the key that our souls were singing.
As we danced in the night,
Remember - how the stars stole the night away, yeah yeah yeah.

Hey hey hey,
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - never was a cloudy day"

That wasn't my September at all. Mine sucked thankyouverymuch.

Glass Half Empty... there were good points but they're currently cowering under two looming shadows being cast by that nasty villain: C A N C E R.

My best friend over here has, after a year, finally convinced the NHS to have a look at a "cyst" on her neck. It is a tumor. She will begin an aggressive attack on it beginning next week. This news came after my Step-dad was diagnosed with cancer of the Prostrate. I hate cancer.

Last night I went to bed with a distracted mind.

Of course, I'm still keeping tabs on the oldest who has relocated himself closer to his recruiter while he waits for the 6-8 months it will take to see if he can enlist and enlist for the job he wants or for the ones he will settle on. He has a job interview on Monday for some income while he waits. His shoes are duct-taped. We transferred money to his account so that he can get new shoes and new trousers (he's dropped a lot of weight preparing for the AF) before his interview.

Son # 3 has lost his new hoody bought at Disney World which means I am on the hunt. For that and his PE shorts.

Thursday is a day of "Beat the Schedule" since Hubby is working nights and I have to be in two places at once. I will drive into town to get one son from Rugby practice, drop the other one off at football practice, take the two little ones with me to Young Women, only to leave immediately to pick up the football kid. I will then get them all home at 9.20 for baths and bed by TEN on a school night. So I herd them all around the house to get everything ready for the busy day.

October is a sacred month. I love Autumn. I love decorating, baking, carving pumpkins and making caramel apples. Unfortunately, it never happens like that because we are always running. It's getting worse as the kids get older. I vowed that this October would be different, I am saying NO to anyone who tries to run off with my calendar. Famous last words. Last week, I began ticking off days... tick, tick, tick-- what the heck? Most of it's full and nothing I can really say NO to.

Going to bed with a distracted mind means waking up in a fog... it means I am less than thrilled when the phone is ringing before 8. It means I glare at my husband as he comes down the stairs carrying a phone while telling the person on the other end that he's looking for me (I'm packing PE kits).

When I realize it's Son #1, anxiety sets in. He needs to talk to us. I just talked to him before I went to bed. No, he needs to talk to US. At the same time.

"Is the girlfriend pregnant?" I wonder to myself. My heart slips into my thighs trying to fight it's way to my feet.

"I'm in."

"You're in? You're in what?"

"I'm in. The Air Force. I enlist on Wednesday, they're fast-tracking me because my job is available."

Hallelujah. Thank you Lord.

September may have just redeemed herself.

Hey hey hey,
Ba de ya - say do you remember
Ba de ya - dancing in September
Ba de ya - forget about the cloudy days...

~The Winner of the Giveaway is...~

2010-09-22T11:27:00.002+01:00

Me, because I love having a giveaway...

Especially when a store I'm enjoying so much like CSN Stores is providing the prize, and they'll be awarding that prize to:

Lisa Loo (who?)

Any (perfectly natural) resentment one might have for not having one's own name drawn

will quickly dissipate knowing that Lisa has just bought her very first home after living in a garage-turning-family home... for the last 15 (?) years. She's currently having a giveaway to help her re-name her blog since she will no longer be able to say: Is That a Garage Door on My Ceiling?. So, pop on over and enter her contest (before Friday!) while you slap her a happy high-five.

I'm THRILLED for you Lisa, Congratulations!!!! Thanks everyone for participating, we'll return to our regularly scheduled nothing-ness soon.

Rewards

2010-09-16T08:30:00.000+01:00

Remember CSN Stores, that awesome place that I've mentioned that sells everything from wardrobes to kitchenware and everything in between? I'm sure I've also noted how easy the folks at CSN are to work with, but now you don't just have to take my word for it, you can find out for yourself.

Have a spin around one of their many online shopping areas in the U.K. (see below) or in the U.S. and tell me what you would love to have. Doing so will enter you into the generous giveaway CSN Stores are offering to my readers*.

That simple.

No jumping through hoops, no standing on your head or waxing your arms in front of hundreds of people (Abe).
Comment here on THIS post for one entry before 3 am Eastern Time, Wednesday, September 22, 2010.


My latest CSN Stores purchase: LeCreuset grill pan

http://www.csnstores.co.uk
http://www.allmodern.co.uk/
http://www.cookwarebycsn.co.uk/
http://www.furniturebycsn.co.uk/
http://www.lightingbycsn.co.uk/
http://www.tvstands.co.uk/

Good Luck!!!

*U.S. folks only are eligible at this time, but please make yourself heard if you're commenting from elsewhere and maybe there will be a future opportunity for you as well!