Don't wait for the world to change. Change it yourself.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Ok, so here's a story for you. I was all set to have some time to myself this evening while Corey took the girls trick-or-treating. (Here's my dirty little secret..I hate Halloween, and I didn't want to go. Spending one painful hour in the Walmart costume isle while Taylor vacillated between a zillion different costumes and then having to return that afternoon and repeat the activity because the one she finally chose was missing a piece..that was my contribution) Then his pager went off and he had to go to work, so I took them up and down our street alone. One of our nice bachelor neighbors went the extra mile, and he was handing out little paper baggies with colorful Halloween pictures on them and two candy bars inside. Included with the candy bars was a handwritten note. After the girls went to bed, I was raiding their pumpkin buckets verifying the safety of the candy and picked up both notes, with the intention of throwing them away. Something stopped me, though, and I set them back down on the counter. I guess I felt bad tossing them, since he obviously invested a significant amount of time cutting up pieces of lined notebook paper into little slips and writing his message with a pencil. I looked down at them again, more closely this time, and this is what they said..
Corey and I love to watch horror movies. We usually just laugh through them, pointing out the impossibilies, the absurdities, the ridiculous actions of the characters. Last night we took a trip down memory lane and rented Stephen King's "Pet Sematary" (yes I know cemetery is misspelled, but that is the spelling he uses). I have watched it several times in the past, however last night was the first time I have seen it since I became a mother. Let me warn you, the scene where the toddler is killed on the road by the speeding truck affects you in a horribly different way when you have a child who is the same age sleeping in the next room. Remember the tiny bloody shoe? I was barely holding it together, hands pressed against the sides of my face, mouth hanging open. Then when the funeral scene came a few minutes later, where the casket is knocked to the floor and the little hand is visible for just a few seconds, I burst into sobs. Total.basket.case. I can't explain it, and maybe it's foolish. But watching those two scenes now, as a mother, I just was slammed with a feeling of "what if" and "I can't imagine....". Those are awful, awful scenes.
Corey, of course, laughed at me.
I laughed too, later, when the toddler is brought back to life as a scalpel-wielding, neck-munching little giggler. However, I will never watch that movie again.
Posting just seems boring and somewhat pointless when you can't include pictures, that's my excuse for the lapse in blogging lately. Who cares what I have to say, right? I know you all are just here for the pictures. And when I say "you all", I am referring to the 3 readers that I have. I'm hoping you guys hang around, because I will resume regularly scheduled programming at some point.
What's up: ~Madison has started using her potty ~I won a $150 Visa giftcard from BlogHer and One A Day (wahoo!) ~I have joined 2 sahm groups, so we are able to escape the house for a few mornings a week, drastically improving my mental state and the girls' social lives
Today is my oldest child's birthday. I would bless you with a picture of her, if I could figure out where to stick the memory card into Corey's work laptop. I asked her yesterday if I could pretend she is turning 10, because I am way to young to have a 12 year old. Let me tell you, she has already perfected that tween look of disgust.
I love you miss Brittany, and Happy Birthday!
(**my husband called while I was still composing this, and he told me that this computer has no place to insert a memory card. Um, seriously? So, no pictures for awhile.)
My computer seems to have crashed, and turned itself from an HP Pavilion Entertainment PC into a piece of trash destined for the garbage bin out front. Grrrr. I am on Corey's work laptop right now, and besides the fact that he usually takes it to work with him, it is extremely slow. So you may not hear from me much, at least for now. A new computer isn't exactly in our budget so who knows. I don't even need to mention all of the lost pictures and files. Grrrr..
Remember the stuffed peppers I told you about awhile ago? They were such a hit around here that I didn't hesitate when I found a variation on that recipe in Redbook this month. I made a few changes myself to the actual recipe in Redbook, and Corey said he actually liked these even better than the green pepper recipe. These are the differences: -italian sausage instead of ground beef (the Redbook recipe called for italian chicken sausage) -red peppers instead of green, sliced halfwise and laid flat, instead of leaving the pepper whole and filling it -marinara sauce instead of canned diced tomatoes and worchestire -mozzarella instead of cheddar, though the inside of the pepper is still sprinkled with parmesan (also sprayed pepper with olive oil spray) -the filling had scallions and oregano These were very, very good. Since the peppers were sweet, I used sweet sausage and a sweet marinara sauce as well.
On Monday night I also used a Redbook recipe, one for crab and shrimp quesadillas. Once again, these looked better in person before I cut them and stacked them up! They had cheddar and monterey jack, sour cream, pico de gallo, corn, shrimp and lump crabmeat. I served black beans and extra sour cream and pico on the side. The girls loved them, especially Taylor.
If I keep cooking like this, those jeans I have been so excited to wear will not fit any longer. Fat and happy, that's what we'll be!
I need to rant. I need to rave. "Ranting and raving" is a saying I remember my Dad using a lot. And doing a lot, come to think of it. Anyway, if you don't feel like "listening" to my tirade, I don't blame you. Feel free to stop reading right now.
Still here? Don't say I didn't warn you.
Why is it that when you are one day late on a loan payment, the threatening phone calls start immediately, and keep coming every single day until you pay up....but when that same company owes you money, they take their own sweet time giving it to you? When we purchased our new car a few months ago, there was still 2 weeks until the next payment on our trade-in was due so I didn't pay it. The dealership took too long to send in the payoff check, and the very day after my payment was due the loan company decended on us with the collection calls. Three days of this and I was sick of my phone ringing several times a day, so I went ahead and paid it, knowing there would be an overpayment on the account. I was assured by both the dealership and the loan company that we would receive this money back. One week after the car loan company had finally received and processed the payoff check, I called to inquire about my overpayment. I was told 30-45 days after the payoff date (August 26th) I would receive a check in the mail. "Sorry, it's procedure." Still waiting. I have called and spoken to many supervisors, told it is an automated thing and there is not an actual person that will print and send the check. I was told there is not an actual person they can contact to find out why it has not been sent. How can this be? There has to be a person working there, right? Unless our world has completely been taken over by computers and us lowly human beings are no longer needed, there has to be a person sitting behind that computer, right? So here we sit, 53 days later, still waiting for our refund. I asked the supervisor if I can collect interest (like the astronomical amount they collected from us over 5 years) and a late payment fee too, now that the 45 days has come and gone. Let me tell you, I did not get a favorable response to that question. The kicker is...this same company now holds our new car loan. No, they can't just transfer the money over to the new account. I think I'll tell them this next time I call: "I know my car payment is due on the 24th, but it will take 30-45 days for you to receive it. Sorry, it's procedure."
Whenever any one of our three daughters are eating with a decided lack of table manners (for example chewing with their mouthes open, burping at the table, taking too large of a bite, and see the above pictures), we always tell them to make sure and do that on all of their dates. Our purpose in telling them to repeat atrocious eating habits? The young men will surely be turned off and disgusted, hopefully derailing any after dinner "activities" they may have planned.
I'm pretty positive we will not be winning any parenting awards in the near future.
On Monday we went for a mini-vacation, a short road trip to visit to some beloved family members. When I met Corey, these two people were like surrogate parents to him. Very quickly they came to mean a great deal to me, too. Yes--another set of parents to us is exactly who they are. In every way. Whenever we are coming home from playgroup (or anywhere actually) if it is nearing 11:30, I have a devil of a time keeping Maddie awake. I want her to stay awake just so she can nap at home. I planned our departure to coincide with nap time so that Maddie would sleep on the way there, knowing it would be a cinch as long we left around 11:30. Au contraire mon frere.
I even swaddled Maddie, hoping she would be blissfully transported back to her newborn days and drift off. Uh, no. It just made her laugh.
I borrowed this quote from Redbook magazine. I even have it posted on the fridge, and reread it several times a week. This quote really spoke to me, so I wanted to share it with you.
"Love the life you lead. That doesn't mean walking around with a smile plastered on your face; it just means that at the end of the day, when you stack it all up, there are moments of joy, laughter, and love that define who you are."~Nate Berkus
How true is that? After I read that quote, I actually felt relief. Here's why--I have moments where I want to pull my hair out, I'm frustrated, unhappy, resentful, sad, irritated. When I have these feelings, they are immediately followed by feelings of guilt. How many working mothers out there would give their eyeteeth to be able to stay home with their young children? I want to feel like I love my life, yet I have these feelings so I must not, right? Wrong. At least I now I think so. Loving my life doesn't mean I am happy every single second. Because I'm not. But I do. And that, my friends, is a good thing to realize.
Last night Maddie was eating mini carrots dipped in ranch dressing. Many things my girls eat give them rashes on every part of the face that it has directly touched, like cinnamon, tomato sauce and strawberry jelly. This particular brand of ranch dressing has caused the worst rash ever.
Says my husband..."Ranch is no jok-er."
Are you laughing yet? No? Well then you must not get it. The rash resembles the red painted-on mouth of the joker (brilliantly played by Heath Ledger) in Batman. This is a great representation of Corey's brand of humor. So, we hear cheesy hilarious and witty jokes like this all the time.
I have been feeling very peaceful for the last week or so. This is something that I have struggled with all of my life. I have a tendency to be very restless and discontent. I have so many good things in my life. I know that. I am so incredibly lucky. I know that, too. When I'm feeling melancholy, agitated and dissatisfied, these feelings do not necessarily correlate with circumstances or events in my life. These moods come from inside of me. On any given day, I can handle the same incident in thoroughly different ways. For example, spilled milk. On a good day, I shrug and wipe it up. On a bad day, I shriek or burst into tears. There you go, folks. My secret is out. I am a moody beyotch.
Anyway, my point is that I'm feeling at peace right now, and that is truly a blessing from God. It could be the arrival of Fall. It could be that I've joined two mother's groups, and we have regular interaction with other SAHM's and their children. Who knows? But that picture above of Dezi? That's me. Relaxed. (Though not as relaxed as him, being that he is dead and all. **But not in that picture of course.** Sorry, bad joke.)
I love Fall. It is by far, without a doubt, my favorite season. And it is finally here! The weather has changed it seems. Right now I am sitting here with my windows open for the first time this season, feeling the wonderfully cool, refreshing air flowing through my house. Today I feel invigorated.
I'm saying goodbye to: *Sweat. Sweating 10 minutes after I've had a shower. Sweating every time I get the girls into and out of the car. *Triple-digit electric bills. *Children gone rowdy with pent up energy because it is too hot to go outside to play. *Shorts. Because let's face it, no one looks stylish in shorts over the age of 16. *Fire ants and flies. *Sweat. I can't emphasize enough how much I hate to sweat.
I'm saying hello to: *Fabulous jeans. *Soft-as-butter knee-high leather boots. Or cowboy boots. Or Uggs. *Double digit electric bills. *Walking into a store feeling fresh despite the struggle of car seat belts and traipsing through parking lots. *Plush footie pajamas on little ones (is there anything as adorable?) *Thick, homemade split pea soup. And chili. And bean soup. *The holidays right around the corner.