Another One Bites The Dust

New Baby + No Sleep + 4 other children = NaBloPoMo FAIL.

And, I was only 4 days away from the finish line. Oh well. No one gets a medal for doing NaBloPoMo.

I have a super-de-duper post all ready in my head to write about the ... uh... "colorful" group of folks we encountered at McDonalds last night. I guess you could call them a family, although it would be a loose interpretation of that word.

I'll be back in the saddle again in a day or two. I need to catch a few winks!

A College Cut-Up

I have always been a handy person. I am a big fan of doing things myself rather than waiting around for someone else with the know-how or the right set of tools to grab the glory for doing the job that I was perfectly able to do.

When I was a freshman in college, I built loft beds for my roommate and myself. Actually, it was only my bed that was lofted, and my roommate's bed was tucked underneath. But I designed the plans myself, bought the lumber, nails, and bolts, and set to work. It was a labor of love but when it was all said and done I loved our finished project.

I wish I had some pictures of it, but of course I don't. We would ask any guests who stopped by to sign the loft, like signing the cast on a friend's broken arm. It was a novelty thing, and we really enjoyed having that conversation-starter when we had friendly males over to visit.

One day in my dorm room, I was cleaning off a hook which I had used double-sided tape to stick to the wall. I was using an exacto knife to scrape off all the last bits of ooey gooey stickey. As I held the plastic hook in my hand, and I applied pressure to get the double-sided tape to budge. I kept trying harder and squeezing. Finally, the exacto knife slips forward, slicing straight into my knuckle on my left hand. I'm dripping blood everywhere and my R.A. insists I go to the Emergency Room.

And, lucky me, the ER is at a hospital that serves as the teaching hospital for my college. A med student goes ahead and gives me 4 stitches. The supervising physician comes in to say, 'Oh, no, these stitches are not good. Redo them.'

So, after getting 4 stitches i have to sit and wait around for 4 more. THAT was fun.

I still have the scar from it!

This post is part of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop.

Wordless Wednesday: Full House

Three Queens and a pair of Kings.

Trepidation

Do you ever remember a time when you embarked on a project, only once you're in it so deep that you can't get out of it you end up saying to yourself.

"Uh, why did I do this again? Is it too late to turn back?"

It's bad enough that I don't feel well. Sore throat still burning from last week (Linus and I both had Strep Throat). On top of that, my nipples feel like they've been filed on by a Dremel. And, of course, the best way to deal with that is to have the baby eat MORE. And I'm on very limited sleep. And, I'm looking forward to going home to a house of 2 adults, 1 dog, and 4 additional children.

Oh, and of course, the pile of bills and papers that still need to be dealt with from my wallet getting stolen.

Violet (Amy) is perfect and amazing. Still, I want to go hide in a hole.

1 day down, about a million more to go...

she's here!

The cliffs' notes version: I started labor last night at around 6pm. Contractions got closer and heavier at around 8pm. By 9pm they were 4 min. apart. I delivered her at 10:02.

And I finally got the epidural once I was at 10 cm. Good times.

PLEASE don't tell me I didn't even need the epidural at that point. Of course I realize that now. But I was out of my mind in pain. Just getting the epidural at all was what I really needed.

Gretchen Amy (Our Last Name)
11/22/09
10:02 p.m.
7 lbs. 9 oz.
20 3/4 inches long

Let's Get It Started...

Okay, bring on the contractions. I'm ready.

Well, I'm as ready as a person ever can be to squeeze out an 8+ pound oddly-shaped being from my girly parts. Accompanied by pains that make getting a bikini wax sound like a cocktail party. For 12 hours. Followed by a period that lasts like 3 weeks.

Good times.

But anyway. With all 4 of my children I have been induced. Actually with Sally, I went in for induction and they used some gel to soften my cervix but didn't end up needing to use the Pitocin because I went into labor after that. So, I've never naturally just gone into labor. I have often wondered what that's like, and if I'd even know it if it were happening. I have cramps on and off all day long, and have been for a few weeks now. If I went into labor, I'd probably just write it off as cramps and then I'd be totally screwed. You see, when it comes time for me to push, that's the easy part for me. With Sally, I literally pushed, like, 2 times. Which, if I had to really think about it, is a sad statement about what has happened to my body.

Again, digressing. Sorry.

So, today I have my good friend and next-door-neighbor, who just happens to be a massage therapist, coming over to give me a massage. She's told me that she knows all the pressure points to hit that will bring on labor. Plus I've read about an herb called Black Cohosh, which can help induce labor. Who knows if it will work or not? But I'm giving it a try. Plus I've been eating salsa and kung pao chicken every day. Plus I've been quite frisky in the boudoir, if you must know. Yeah, I know, TMI.

And, if nothing else works, I am actually scheduled to go in for induction tomorrow (Monday). But it would be SO nice if I could get labor started so I don't have to be hooked up to the pitocin all day long. I mean, what would I possibly do all day? Oh yeah, I'll have my laptop with me...

Saturday Night with the Bad Mom

I had a BLAST tonight! I got to meet The Bad Mom. She was in town to attend a Cowboys game. Well, as soon as I heard about her plans, I stalked begged her to meet up with me.

We both got a good laugh about the fact that both of our husbands were afraid of the other blogger, worried that she might turn out to be a psycho serial killer.

It is so exciting to meet someone who you've gotten to know, but only through the written word. She was pretty much exactly what I expected: cute as a button, intelligent, witty, and fun. I don't recall more than 2 seconds passing the whole evening when we didn't have something to say to one another. She's so much fun to talk to.

One of the reasons I was so excited to meet her was that she is an English teacher. So, ya know, she knows a thing or two about the written word. And her blog is proof positive of that.

So, anyway, I'd better hurry up and hit "publish" so I can keep on track with NaBloPoMo. If you get a chance, hop on over to The Bad Mom. I promise you won't be disappointed!

Bad Mom and Texan Mama at the local cantina

Flashback Friday: Nobody's Perfect, Except Our Newborns

Hey Hey Hey, you know what day it is! It's Friday! Time for FLASHBACK FRIDAY!!!!

Dig up that old post that needs dusting off and repost it for another go-round with your readers. And come back here with Mr. Linky so that we can all enjoy each other's posts!


I thought this post was appropriate considering that I'm due to have baby Violet on Monday. I can't wait to show you pictures. And, yes, I'm still going to TRY to keep up with NaBloPoMo even though I'll be at the hospital. I'm pretty sure they have Wi-Fi there.

Nobody's Perfect, Except Our Newborns
(Originally Posted August 1, 2008)
Y'know, when I was pregnant with Peppermint Patty, I was just sure I was gonna be a great mommy. I read all the books, I went to the birthing classes, I talked to other moms. I really believed I was all ready to get this mothering show on the road.

Then I had a baby. And she was perfect. And I was not.

I have many many oh so many memories of those first few weeks, looking into her eyes and asking, "What do you want to do today?" Her answer usually came in the form of a scream, until I would sit down and position her face-down across my lap close to my knees, so I could gently bounce my knees up and down while keeping a hand on her back and gently patting and comforting her. This usually soothed her but confused and exhausted me. She would not be content to be held. She would not be content to be rocked. Or swung. Or bounced. Or exersauced. She wanted that time on her tummy. I can't really blame her considering, looking back now, she must have had reflux. I read a book called Colic Solved by Dr. Bryan Vartabedian in preparation of having my 4th baby. Nothing like getting prepared AFTER the assault is over, eh? Anyway, I flipped page after page and kept saying to myself, and sometimes to whomever was listening, "This is exactly what Peppermint Patty was doing! These are the symptoms she had! This is how she acted! Why didn't I know this sooner???"

I was filled with fears about being the perfect mother to this child. Like any mother, I feared her getting sick, I feared being in a car accident with her, I feared losing her somehow. I understood these fears but felt like they were somewhat out of my control. But my biggest fear of all was that I would harm her while actually trying to help her. Like, giving her medicine but mistakenly giving the wrong dosage. Or giving her food that caused her to choke, or have an allergic reaction. Or even insisting that I would breastfeed even after noticing that she wasn't gaining weight. Being a mom is filled with so many heart wrenching choices that are not really choices at all. Like, for example: vaccinations. Get em? Risk Autism. Don't get em? Risk getting a deadly or near-deadly disease.

The choices I had to make were making me crazy. Every day I would wonder if I had screwed up my baby that day, or if I were just postponing the inevitable until tomorrow, or the next day, or the next... And since I was already feeling so low about my parenting choices, it was fitting that I would also be sucked into the comparison stuff. Like, that little girl always looks so put-together with bows in her hair and cute little shoes, my child looks like all her fashions come from Goodwill; or that little toddler always looks fresh as a daisy but my kid always seems to have a stain on her shirt or her face or BOTH; or that child seems so content with his mom and the mom seems so calm and in control of everything. Why is my child running around like a banshee while I am on the brink of meltdown?

So, how did I get through it without losing my mind? Well I did it in the only way that I could, the way that no one could have taught me. I did it through experience, and tears, and prayer, and finally giving up and letting go. I did it through allowing myself some humiliation and letting the chips fall where they may. I did it through more of lets-do-this-and-see-what-happens and less of lets-do-it-this-way-because-that's-what-the-book-says-to-do. The biggest obstacle I had to overcome was myself. I have always been what is called a global thinker. I want to know the whole plan, how it's supposed to all turn out, so I can prepare my game plan from step one. So, trying to figure out the game plan for a baby is, well, pretty much impossible! But of course all the books don't present it that way. They say, "Breastfeeding should be...." or "By this age your child should be able to...." or "You should watch your child's signals for...." That last one always cracked me up. For someone who has never had a child, who knows what "signals" are? So the baby is crying... does that mean she's tired? or hurting? or hungry? or wet? or itchy? or has a hair in her mouth? WHAAAAAA???? I couldn't read my daughter's signals any easier than I could read Japanese.

But through the grace of God I mothered her without breaking her. I only hit her head on the door frame once as I passed through. I still remember how that moment was the end of the quest for perfection. I cried and sobbed and told my husband, "I'll never be able to do it. I just don't have it in me." He asked "Have what in you?" I responded, "The gene to be a perfect mom." He said, "I'm glad you finally realized it." I was so insulted, so he gently explained, "Now you can relax and just do your best. She doesn't expect perfection. She just wants your love."

And, through the grace of God, I've mothered 3 other children too. I've made mistakes along the way with all of them. I continue to make mistakes every day. Many nights I whisper unheard promises into their ears as they sleep in their beds. I quietly assure them that tomorrow I will be nicer, or more patient, or more fun and less busy. Although I realize perfection is not necessary, I feel myself slipping further away from it every day. But it's strange to see how amazing they are turning out when I think, "Oh, today was terrible! Let's erase today and have a do-over tomorrow. I'll get out the finger paints and I'll do flash cards and I'll read books and there will be NO TV and NO video games." Then tomorrow comes and before I can crawl out of bed they ask, "Can I watch Arthur on PBS?" and I say, "Yes."

So many moms have seen me with my 4 kids and say, "My God, how do you do it?" **DISCLAIMER** If you have more than 4 kids I know it must be exponentially harder but I am only relating my experiences thus far. And my answer usually is: "Many days, I don't." What I mean by that is, please don't think for one minute that my kids are all in matching clothes, that their rooms are clean, that I have dinner ready at 5pm, and that my house is spotless. Usually I'm lucky if I'm 1 for 4. Getting out the door on time takes much planning. Getting anything done around the house usually involves corralling the children in front of the idiot-box (TV) or sending them outside. The baby must be taking a nap in order for me to iron or fold laundry. What I want any mom to know, any mom who thinks that "that other perfect mom" is doing a better job than she is, IS NOT PERFECT. She has problems of her own, but she's not showing them to you. No mom is perfect except in the eyes of her child. As long as anyone searches for perfection he or she will be forever disappointed. The only logical outcome will be that you will toil away at everything that someone else considers important only to miss fulfillment in that task, and your child will lose out on time with you just being relaxed and being yourself.

So for tomorrow, don't promise perfection to anyone, including yourself. Don't expect it. Set realistic goals, like "Today I will play Uno with my kids for 30 minutes and I won't yell once." Or "Tonight I will read whatever book they want - no matter if it's long or has tiny print or has no pictures - and I won't complain about it." Or even something simple like "Today I will tell my children I love them. And that I think they're perfect." Because to you, they are.

Channelling Erma

Well, today has been ... how shall I say?... mixed. On the one hand, I felt like crap. I am pretty sure I had strep, just like Linus did earlier this week (the doc didn't do a strep test but just went ahead and prescribed me some penicillin anyway) and today my sore throat is gone but is replaced by a stuffy head and body aches. BUT on the other hand, I completely emptied my dirty clothes hamper. All clothes are washed and folded. Mine/hubs are put away and kids are just waiting to get done. Ironing basket is empty. Carpets are shampooed. Bills are paid on time. Plus I did a lot of these things while watching re-runs of "The West Wing" on DVD.

Today has been productive, I guess. But, since I felt like crap, I didn't get online all day. But, my nagging need to keep at it for NaBloPoMo got me online after all.

I felt pretty bad about all the complaining I did yesterday. I mean, it's my life, so it's my reality. But I've always believed that we have CHOICES. We can choose to look at the glass as half-full or half-empty. I hope I'm the type of person who does some of each. And, at the same time, I don't want people to click onto my site and start reading, only to moan, "Oh, HERE SHE GOES AGAIN!!!"

Today, as I soaked my weary muscles in a hot tub (weary from nothing else than a cold bug), I read a book given to me by my mother-in-law, called "Forever, Erma". It is a collection of columns written by Erma Bombeck, who was the Dooce of her day. Erma passed away in 1996 but I think it's safe to say that she lives on in the writings of thousands of mom-bloggers. I would like to share some of what I read in the foreword of this book.

(A column written by Erma, published April 4, 1969)
A Mrs. "R.N." of Boston has raised a rather interesting question. "Mrs. Bombeck's column is devoted merely to the gripes of a suburban housewife. Her infantile self-absorption is annoying. Why doesn't she direct her writing toward a more constructive topic?"
I'm surely glad you brought up that little ting, Mrs. R.N. You see, on a newspaper, reporters have areas they cover called "beats." Some men cover politics, business, crime, medicine, government, ratio and television, while women cover fashions, food, society.
I cover the utility room beat. When [it] came up, I grabbed it.
I've been at the helm of "Mission Impossible" for four years now. It's a challenge. If I am consumed with my self-absorption, it is for a reason.
Long ago it became apparent there were only two people in the world I could take a crack at in print without being sued or severely criticized: Adolf Hitler and me!
Furthermore, I wouldn't trade my beat for anything else on the newspaper. Sometimes as I sift through the grim, the ugly, the shocking, I recoil here between the hot water heater and the detergent and I get my perspective.
Screaming kids, unpaid bills, green leftovers, husbands behind newspapers, baskletballs in the bathroom. They're real... they're warm... they're the only bit of normalcy left in this cockeyed world, and I'm going to cling to it like life itself.

And, one more from Erma Bombeck's last column, written on April 17, 1996

My deeds will be measured not by my youthful appearance,
buy by the concern lines on my forehead,
the laugh lines around my mouth,
and the chins from seeing what can be done
for those smaller than me or who have fallen.

Erma, we can only aspire to reach the bar you have set so high. YOU are the original mommy-blogger. Thank you for blazing the path for us.

Daily Frustrations

Here's some things I get frustrated about on a daily basis, even though I know I need to just let. it. go.

1. Sally insists on playing bubbles. But, every time she does, she blows bubbles for about 2 minutes, then she dumps out the whole bottle of bubbles on the ground. And, since it's not summer any more, I can't find the huge bottles of bubbles any more.
2. My family is suffering from DAS - Dishwasher Avoidance Syndrome. Even if the dishwasher is completely void of dishes, they will not put their dirty dishes there. The dishes ALWAYS end up in the sink. It's not like the dishwasher is on the other end of the house. Hello? It's 5 inches away from the sink. Then, *I* get stuck loading, and unloading, and reloading the dishwasher. And handling food that's been sitting in the dishes for 2 days. And a moldy, nasty dishcloth. Gah, my life is so glamorous.
3. Shoes. Too many shoes. Shoes that get taken off and left in the middle of the hallway. Shoes that track mud in from outside onto my freshly shampooed carpet. Shoes that can't find a mate. Shoes that were begged for, bought 2 weeks ago, and now refuse to be worn. Shoes that make the entire closet stink, infecting all the clean clothes. Shoes that need to be put into the attic for the next child in line. Shoes that are worn to church but should really be reserved for playing in the mud. Shoes.
4. Christmas Cards. My mom says I should just forget about them this year. I really want to listen to her advice, but I've always sent out Christmas Cards. This year, I have double duty with the baby announcements too. I just assumed I'd include the baby announcements with the Christmas cards, but that's a lot of addressing and writing. My style is usually to have a generic typed letter (short, like 3 paragraphs), updating friends & family as to what our family is up to. Then, I hand-sign the actual card and include a photograph. For most folks I also write one or two personal sentences so the card is actually personal to them, something like, "I bet those puppies of yours are getting big!" or "How is Danny doing in t-ball?" My list is about 60 families long, so I have to get on that soon. But, I just don't have the joy to do it like I should. The Christmas cards are a chore this year, more than ever. Makes me wonder why I'm doing it.
5. My own organization skills. It never fails: I leave something out because I don't know what to do with it or where to put it, but I'm sure I'll need it in the future. 2 months pass by, with that whatever-thing sitting in the same place. Finally, I get sick of looking at it so I put it away, someplace "safe". And a week later I need it but have no idea where I've put it because it's not sitting on my nightstand. Or on the corner of the kitchen counter. It's put away. Whew, I'm so glad I finally put that thing away.

Okay, so, enough complaining. I think I need to get out of my funk. And, I think I know just how to do it: TO GIVE BIRTH. Nothing will make me ignore dishes, and laundry, and bills, like a beautiful newborn baby with the smells that make my uterus do a flip and the little baby bird squeaks that take my breath away.

Do You Know Me?

Twitter is a strange animal. At first I thought it would be like Facebook, hooking up with people you know in real life and meeting new people too. But, I mean, who are these people following me on Twitter anyway???

There's a woman who runs a blog and podcast for trendy Latina moms. Does that sound like me? She does all her tweets in Spanish. I'm guessing she's bilingual, but why would she follow me?

An OB/GYN doctor who follows over 41,000 people. YES I typed that right. I know he's a pregnancy doc but, uh, I'm not exactly Michelle Duggar. I'm a run-of-the-mill pregnant mommy. Not a lot of interesting tweets coming from me regarding stretch marks or prenatal vitamins or if I will lose my mucus plug.

Yeah, I just said mucus plug.

A company called Custom Shirts. Uh, I'm not really buying/selling/designing custom shirts right now. Come to think of it, I've never bought/sold/designed custom shirts.

When I get these little notes in my inbox on gmail, telling me that I have a new follower on Twitter, it's fun! And, honestly, if Florida Emerald Coast Rentals wants to follow me on Twitter, and hear about my kids' boogers and what I'm making for dinner, I guess that's okay. I can't imagine WHY they'd care enough to waste space in their Twitter line to read my little blips of insignificant mommy information, but whatever.

Another thing I wonder, is, how in the world did these people find me? It's not like I'm in hiding, but I often wonder how some IT Distribution company came across my Twitter handle.

I dunno. I'm going to keep tweeting weird stuff. Maybe I'll attract even more random people. New friends to meet, right?

***************************************

On an unrelated note, I am getting freaked out: Linus has strep throat. I believe I have it too (going to the OB today). I am 39 weeks pregnant.Texan Papa is also feeling like he's coming down with it. I am worried that it will get passed onto the baby after she's born, and I thought that newborns can't have any antibiotics for the first few months of life. I'm not really sure what to do.

So, prayers for us? Please? Good Karma? Good thoughts? Send 'em our way. We'll take everything we can get. Thanks!

Phone Courtesy

Okay, I'm all in a lather about a phone conversation I just had... with a kid.

From a very young age, I have tried to teach my children how to speak to people on the phone. Not just adults but anyone. When answering the phone, they are to say hello, and when the caller asks for someone they are to ask, "May I tell him/her who's calling?" or even simply, "Who is this please?"

And, when they are phoning someone, usually a friend, they are to say, "Hello. This is Charlie Brown. May I please speak to Schroeder?" They are to use the same manners that I expect out of them in everyday conversation. And, for the most part, they do a great job. But I'll admit, it's like anything else: they had to be taught. They weren't born with this phone etiquette set of skills. They practiced with Granny and Poppy, and Mommy and Daddy too.

So, today Peppermint Patty got a call from a friend to play. We'll call the friend... Rosie. Peppermint Patty wasn't home so I intercepted the call.
Texan Mama: Hello?
Rosie: Is Patty there? (I hate it when children - or adults for that matter - do this. They immediately ask for the person and don't even give a greeting like "hello".)
TM: No, she's not home from church yet.
R: Okay.
(pause... pause... longer pause... )
TM: Um, who is this? Can I help you with something?
R: This is Rosie.
TM: Oh okay. Hi Rosie.
(pause... I hear breathing... long pause... )
TM: Uh. Rosie, do you want me to have Patty call you when she gets home?
R: Okay, yah.
TM: Okay, Rosie. Bye.
R: Bye.

You'd think this was the first time this child had ever made a phone call. It was like she didn't even know why she called in the first place! When Patty got home from church, she called Rosie and they planned to get together to play. I told Patty she could play until 5:00. So at 4:50, I called Rosie's house to tell them I was about to come over to pick Patty up.

Texan Mama: Hello. This is Texan Mama. I'm Patty's mother.
Rosie's house person: uh-huh.
TM: Patty came over there to play today with Rosie. Is she still there?
(silence... breathing... long pause... )
TM: Hello?
Rosie's house person: Hello?
TM: Is this Rosie?
Rosie's House Person: No.
TM: Okay, is Rosie's Mom there? Can I talk to her?
(silence... long pause... the sound of someone sucking spit between their braces... )
TM: HELLO? IS THERE ANY ADULT HOME AT THE HOUSE? CAN I PLEASE TALK TO AN ADULT? (I am beginning to freak out a little bit, thinking that my daughter has gone to a house of no return.)
crash. muffle muffle. fumble.
Rosie's Adult: Hello?
TM: (starting over): Hello. I'm Patty's mom. I expected her to say, "Oh hi! Patty and Rosie are having a good time together." instead I got
silence... long pause... breathing...
TM: Is this Rosie's mom?
Rosie's Grandma: No. I'm the Grandma.
(long pause... breathing... )
TM: Oh. Okay. Well, I told Patty that she could play until 5:00 so I was just calling to say I'll be there to get her in about 5 or 10 minutes.
RG: Mm-hmm.
TM: Okay, I'll see you in a little bit.
RG: Okay, well, I'm the Grandma and we're all over here.
W.T.H.???
(At this point I want to run and get Texan Papa's handgun, just in case. Who knows what I'll find when I get to that house.)

That silly 3-minute phone call shook me up the whole rest of the day. I was so frustrated that a kid in middle school (it was Rosie's brother who answered the phone) could not carry on a completely normal conversation with an adult on the phone. At the very least, he could have said, "I don't know. Let me give the phone to my Grandma." But he just sat there like a deer in the headlights. I kept thinking, certainly their parents must know what they sound like on the phone... why don't they teach their kids how to talk on the phone???? Then, after talking to Grandma, it hit me that the apple didn't fall far from THAT tree. Apparently no one ever taught HER how to talk to people on the phone either.

Then again, maybe *I'm* the naive one. Maybe they purposely talk that way to folks they don't know, so that when a telemarketer calls he or she would rather gauge out their own eyes with a dull spoon than continue a conversation with these dolts.

Meal Rotation

My mom is 76. If your brain is too tired to do the math, that means she was born in 1933. She was actually the youngest of 3 children, so that means that her family lived through and survived the Great Depression. My Grandma - her mother - was very thrifty and creative with everything in the household, much like I suspect everyone's parents or grandparents were back then.

My mom's first store-bought dress came after she got married and had a job of her own. Before that, my mom & grandma would take the streetcar down to the flour mill, buy old flour sacks, and take them home to make into dresses. Even in primary school, my mom had one blouse to wear with her uniform, but the blouse had collars that could be switched out so that she wore a crisp clean collar every morning. Even at her wedding, my mom made all the bridesmaids' dresses and my grandma made my mom's wedding dress.

When it came to meals, NOTHING ever got wasted or thrown away. The worst cuts of meat from the butcher were seasoned and stewed until palatable. Every part of the fryer chicken was used - no part was considered inedible, including the neck, the heart, and the "gizzard". (To this day, I'm not sure I know what body part that refers to. Not sure I want to know.)

I've certainly inherited my mom's thrifty gene, but I would rather eat an old shoe than be forced to gnaw on a chicken neck. (I can't even count the number of times I've come into the kitchen while my mom was cooking Thanksgiving dinner, to find her chewing on the turkey neck. BLECH. I can just hear her saying, "Mmm. It's so good." BLECH!) But, no matter what kind of food my mom would make, she always made it taste pretty good. If it was just fried fish fillets, my mom would season them really great and fry them up just right. If it was just spaghetti, my mom would make the sauce from scratch and roll up some meatballs to add to the sauce. Breaded pork chops were one of my favorites as a kid, because she would put just the right amount of breading on them and bake them up so moist and tender.

But me? I am stuck in a rut. Well, I guess I can't technically call it a rut, since I've been stuck in it since I started cooking and never been able to get myself out of it. I love food and love to cook, but I loathe the idea of spending 1 and a half to 2 hours in the kitchen, just to hear my kids say, "Do I have to eat this?" or turn up their noses and say, "I'm not hungry tonight." Cooking should be a task that I enjoy for myself, but I am cooking to feed and please my family so if they don't like it then it seems like a waste of time for me. Plus, I try to cook on a budget. And, seriously, I mean a budget. Like we have 6 people in our family (almost 7) and my monthly grocery budget is around $600. So, fixing meals that are NEW! and HEALTHY! and DELICIOUS! may be a great idea, but if I need to splurge just to pay for the ingredients for one meal, I probably won't even try that recipe.

Also, Texan Papa has decided to swear off pork and all pork products since his Lyme Disease diagnosis last year. He was determined to eat better and start exercising to combat the Fibromyalgia, which he suffers from as a result of the Lyme Disease. So, to add to my frustration, now I cannot prepare anything that contains pork products or is pork. That means I basically have beef or chicken to work with. My beef mode of choice is ground beef (a.k.a. hamburger) because regular beef scares the bejeeses out of me. I never know what cut to buy, how to prepare it so that it's not chewy or tough or bland. Also, we're not big grillers since we only have a Weber kettle charcoal grill and it's a bit of a pain in the butt to get it going.

My basic meal rotation pretty much consists of: meatloaf, tacos, Hamburger Helper, chicken breasts grilled in a grill pan, homemade chicken-noodle soup, spaghetti, and breakfast for dinner. Occasionally I will fix fish, but NOT very often.

The other day my husband said something to me that really stung. I didn't let him know how much it hurt me - I wanted to just drop it, I guess - but it really did. He was talking about sushi, how I should learn how to roll sushi. I told him, "I don't even like sushi." and he said, "Well it might be nice to have something other than Tuna Helper for dinner every once in a while."

Ouch.

I really do try to make nutritious meals, and I always offer lots of healthy side dishes. But I'm not very creative when it comes to cooking. I know my family, and if a recipe calls for chopped green peppers or mushrooms or curry, etc., I might as well not even waste my time. And, if I leave that particular ingredient out, often times, all the recipes end up tasting the same! With the new baby due to be born any time now, the possibility of me trying new recipes has gone entirely out the window.

So, what am I to do? Well, if nothing else, I'm going to share with you a recipe that tastes so yummy every time I fix it. And, it is probably the SIMPLEST recipe I have. Every time I make it, I say to myself, "I've forgotten how good this is!" Here we go:

about 1 1/2 cups dry macaroni
1 lb ground beef
1 can condensed tomato soup
Sliced REAL American Cheese (not the fake Am. Cheese product crap)

1. Boil the noodles in water till done; drain. In a separate pan, brown the ground beef until done. In a third bowl, combine the tomato soup with one can of water and mix well.
2. In a 13x9 pan, put the macaroni on the bottom. Then put the ground beef on top of that. Then put the soup-water mixture on top of that. Then cover the top with American Cheese (it usually takes me 7 slices - 6 full slices plus one cut in half).
3. Bake in a 350 degree oven for about 20-30 minutes.

This is kinda like my own version of Hamburger Helper, but it's so cheap to make and so delicious.

But, I am curious to know, how often do you make a full-out meal for your family where everyone sits down together and eats the same food off of real plates, using real utensils? Does this change as kids are small or kids are grown up? I'd say that we eat like that probably 4 times a week. The other 3 days are when Texan Papa is at work in the evening so the kids and I eat pizza or hot dogs or something with pork in it. ha ha. Usually once a week we have leftovers.

What about you?

I Want Baby Stuff

So, I created a baby registry at Target. There are so many reasons this was wrong, that I can't even begin to count them. First of all, this is my 5th child. What else could I possibly need for a baby that I don't already have? And, when I know no one is going to throw me a shower or anything (and why should they? Hello? It's my 5th baby!) isn't registering for baby gifts kinda selfish?

Really, the reason I did it, actually, was out of hope that if anyone asked "Do you need anything for the new baby?" I could actually tell them "YES, I am registered at Target." The kind of stuff I've registered for are just basic items: diapers, Vaseline, socks, burp cloths, etc. After 5 kids, all the baby Orajel has expired and I will always be in need of diapers. Some stuff has just simply worn out; I also registered for one of those toy net things that gets attached to the bathtub wall.

But I think the thing that sucks most about registering for all this baby stuff, is realizing I'm probably not going to get any of it. And, when I was registering, it was like I was actually GETTING all this new stuff. Now reality has hit and I think I'm going to just have to go buy it all myself. Which is okay, since I didn't really expect anyone to get me anything. But still, I kinda hoped against hope, if that makes any sense.

I guess I could just wait to see if anyone asks after the baby is born what I need. But, some of the things I register for I'm going to need the first week. Like, I need a cover for my Boppy. The well-loved Boppy was bought second-hand to begin with, and has been put to good use. Now I need a cover for it so that my baby doesn't lie on it and think, "Egads, has this woman laid me down on a sheet of sandpaper???"

Plus, this is a NEW BABY. And, although she's 5th in line, she's NEW. And every new baby deserves a few new things. She should have at least a handful of items that were never pre-owned or passed down.

I think maybe *I'm* the one who needs the new things. Sometimes I have so little willpower.

Flashback Friday: Who Loves The King?

Hey Y'all. In case you didn't notice the thingy in my sidebar, I'm doing NaBloPoMo. That means, National Blog Posting Month, where I'm supposed to post every single day for the month of November. That's really not too hard for me because I have a lot of boring stuff to unload onto the captive audience which I like to call... YOU. But, it's killing me, as far as cleaning out my Google Reader. For every 5 posts I read, all of a sudden there' 1o more! Apparently I'm not the only one doing NaBloPoMo.

Anyway, WOOT WOOT It's Flashback Friday!!!

So c'mon. Join the fun. Grab my button and play along. Just repost an old post of yours and link up here so that we can all visit each other and your post can get some more action. It's a big old fashioned love fest!



Who Loves The King? (Originally Posted 11/3/08)

How many of you call your husband or boyfriend an idiot? Or stupid? Or remind him of his failures?

Um, I don't. I hope you don't either. It's not really in the recipe for a successful loving relationship. However, you wouldn't think that was the case if you watched shows like "According to Jim" or "Still Standing" or "The King Of Queens". While those shows are pretty amusing, it seems like the husband is always portrayed as a less-than-intelligent guy who is always trying to pull a scheme on his smart and beautiful wife. The scheme never works and the husband takes a verbal beating, being called "stupid", "moron", "idiot", and usually, "fat". Of course, in the end, they couple makes up but the husband looks like the dunder-head and the wife looks like the "I told you so".

Now, let's see a show of hands... Who loves "King of the Hill"?

Okay, okay, you can all put your hands down now. I admit, I did not even pay any attention to this show at first when it came out, because it is animated by the same guy (Mike Judge) who made Beavis & Butt-head. 'Nuff said about that. But at my husband's urging, I began to watch. I loved how Hank Hill was straight laced but not a big idiot, like the husbands on "According to Jim" and others like it. I guess it helps that the characters are animated, but they are more like a slice of real life, in my opinion. I would HOPE that it is more like real America to find a man who wants his son to grow up to be like himself and teach him the ways of the world from a man's point of view. I THINK it is more the norm to find a mom who works for her family as best she can, although sometimes misjudges her own strengths and weaknesses. Maybe, because "King of the Hill" is a cartoon, it can take license with poking fun at mainstream Americans without actually offending. After all, these aren't REAL people! Or are they?

Last night, I was so delighted (insert girly giggle here) to see Hank Hill at his place of work, Strickland Propane, being told by his co-worker to BLOG on MySpace. You see, Hank's co-worker Donna was big into Social Networking and she convinced the boss, Mr. Strickland, that putting the company online was the magic bullet the company needed to increase sales and grow the business. All workers were required to blog, upload photos, and talk about their REAL UNCENSORED FEELINGS. In the end, it didn't work out - you'd have to see the full episode for the full effect of why - and Hank tells his co-worker that at their office, all the co-workers are like family. And, it's just unnatural for family members to know each other's inner thoughts. Yes, of course, it is a bit tongue-in-cheek because Hank doesn't like anything that reeks of "real feelings". But I thought about it... how much do I want my readers to know about my inner thoughts?

What if I bit my toenails? Do I share it with you?

What if I pop my zits? Is that information you really need to know?

Yet, every day millions of people call it "theraputic" to do what I call the VERBAL VOMIT. We just blab out our thoughts, feelings, emotions, no matter how erratic or irrational they are. I guess the question is, what is erratic? What is irrational? And who decides that?

There is a very good reason I have chosen to keep my blog as private as possible. I want to be able to do the VERBAL VOMIT within reason. I want to share my feelings but I also want to keep some dignity for myself. I like to get honest opinions when I am waffling on a decision. I like to get reassurance when I'm beating myself up about something I've done when maybe I'm being too hard on myself. However, I'm not too fond of the criticisms I get when I don't even see it coming. But I guess, putting it all out there requires us to be ready for that criticism.

So far, I have not yet deleted any comments on my blog. Okay, well, I actually did delete 3, but that was by mistake and I contacted all those people and invited them to repost. But any snarky comments have been left in tact. I just feel really strongly that it's kinda like censorship if I delete their comments. Kinda like, "I only want people to see the good side of me". I am aware that other people disagree with me and I feel like if I leave their comments up, I am respecting their right to disagree. No matter how much I hate the comment. No matter how much it may hurt. I realize that it's my blog, and I can keep or delete any comment I want. And, I guess, this is how I want my blog to be. (Maybe I'm a masochist? Not in the naughty way!)

For example yesterday, something really really super awful happened to me at Wal-Mart and I considered whether or not I wanted to share it on my blog. I won't go into details, but it involved me walking away from one of the children who was left behind in the toy department. Just got preoccupied and forgot. About 5 minutes later, I realized one was missing and raced to the toy department to find the child with 2 WM workers. They were on the phone with someone (who? Cops? DFS? Security?) and I was given the "you're-a-shit-mother" look - guess I deserved it. I put my tail between my legs as I slunk away with the child. I am SO freaked out by this. I am SO upset. I know it was HORRIBLE. I know I completely suck. Trust me, nothing you could say would be worse than what I've said to myself. But I debated putting this up because I feel like, ya know, today I'm just not up for being called a bad mom, or irresponsible, or a dolt. I already feel those things - I don't need a zillion other moms, those who've never lost track of their own children - reminding me what a crappy job I did yesterday. Some days I do okay. Yesterday - FAIL.

So, I guess I just went ahead and told you more than I needed to. See, blogging + anonymity = VERBAL VOMIT.

So, how much do you reveal in your blog?

Loving Average

Recently I wrote a post about being average.

Now I'd like to write a post about loving average. And, by average, what I mean is that I have always been MORE attracted to average guys than the super-hotties. Okay, I'm not going to lie and say that I don't drool over Matthew McConaughey. I call him Matthew McConau-hotty. But if I'm not dream-dating, and I'm actually remembering my past boyfriends, they were all... kinda unremarkable. Usually blond. Usually average-height. Sometimes with glasses. Sometimes overweight. Once I dated a guy considered "a catch" but I just couldn't get myself attracted to him. It was all really weird.

I think the reason I never even tried dating the super-hotties was because I didn't want to date someone more beautiful than me. Not that I consider myself beautiful - actually quite the opposite! I struggle with my self-image daily. But that's for another post. Or never. But, anyway, I mean that I didn't want to date someone who I always feared would compare me to someone who was much more in his league. I felt comfortable dating average-looking guys because I felt like it was a better fit for me.

And, here comes the stereotyping... on the rare occasions that I did go on a date with a "super-hotty", their personality was about what you'd expect: egotistical, superficial, impolite. I just always felt like the average-looking guys had more to offer, personality-wise. And THAT was attractive to me.

I got thinking about all this because I was listening to my MP3 player and a favorite song came on: "This Will Be (An Everlasting Love)" by Natalie Cole. Every time I hear it, I picture the opening credits of the movie "While You Were Sleeping". I love that Sandra Bullock ended up falling in love with Bill Pullman, the average-looking brother, instead of the brother with the classic good looks, good job, great apartment, etc.

Now I know that looks are all relative. It's weird to imagine some of my friends still being single, because they are just so beautiful inside and out. At the same time, it's weird to imagine some people I see at the grocery store, with greasy hair or bad breath or messed-up teeth, who are married and I wonder, "how did THAT person get a hook-up?"

But, I can tell you (and you may agree) that looks really seem to fade as you age. And by fade, I mean that we don't look as sharp as we once did. But, what I really mean more, is that they just don't seem to be important. My husband has lost most of his hair, ON HIS HEAD, because the rest of his body is completely covered with hair (from his neck down to his toes) and none of that junk falls out EV-AH. But it doesn't matter to me. I think he's sexy. He played soccer a lot as a kid and he's still got the tightest butt around... and it's all MINE.

I think average is pretty good, ya know?

Mom and Me

I've been thinking a lot about my mom lately. I'd love to post a picture here of her and I together, but sadly I know I won't be able to find one, no matter how long I search through computer files and photo albums. She always was, and still is, a very humble person who is content to serve others from the background. She supports our family in every way. She's my dad's anchor, even though she'd never admit it. She's a pretty wonderful person and I don't think she knows how much she is appreciated.

Growing up, I wished my mom was cooler. I felt like everyone else's mom was so hip, so fashionable, and so in-touch with their kids' feelings. My mom felt like a stranger to me. I longed for a best friend to go shopping with. I cried to myself in my room so many times because I wanted to confide my secrets with her, but I feared that she would judge me, or scold me, or just simply not understand what I was going through. Little did I know that my mom really wasn't that different from my friends' moms.

As a young adult, my mother and I butted heads as I was determined to strike out on my own. I wanted to be an adult, making my own decisions and facing my own consequences, and I refused to let her judgment or opinions steer my path. The possibility of her actually having some life experience never occurred to me. In my mind, she was an ancient relic, unable to relate to modern society for a young person.

As a college graduate, I just kind-of avoided her. I wanted to respect her but I had trouble seeing eye-to-eye with her. So, I ended up growing apart from her. We didn't connect much. The times we saw each other at family get-togethers became more superficial and less meaningful.

But once I became a mother, everything changed. It was impossible for me to imagine her loving me the way I loved my newborn daughter. I couldn't fathom the idea that she, too, held a baby in her arms (ME!) and gazed into its eyes (mine), wondering what the future would hold and praying that God would keep her safe. Over the years, and still today, I find myself saying, "Oh, so THAT'S why my mom did things the way that she did." And, begrudgingly, I find myself realizing that the way my mom ran our household actually did make sense after all.

I don't think my mom did a perfect job, any more than I'm under the illusion that I'm doing a perfect job. I know she made mistakes. There are plenty of things I'm doing now that came from a vow to be a different mom than my own mother. But, for the most part, I'm pretty much a carbon copy of my mom. I call her on the phone WAY more than she calls me, because I need to hear her voice, or ask her a question about a recipe, or how to get a stain out of a pair of pants, or to (gasp!) ask her opinion about discipline.

Turns out, she does know a thing or two.

Tuesday Random Thoughts

It's Tuesday! I've been saving up these random thoughts just for you.

"I've got some random thoughts for you. Not some ordinary thoughts for you..."
Have you ever seen The Jerk? Know the Thermos song? If not, you didn't get that.

Go Visit the Un Mom to see more awesome random thoughts.

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Have you ever noticed the two phrases "I will check it out" and "I will check into it" mean the same thing? But out and in are opposites.

Kinda along the same lines, if something ordinary is run-of-the-mill or unremarkable, wouldn't you think that extraordinary ("extra ordinary") would be just ESPECIALLY unremarkable, or super boring or whatever. But actually extraordinary means the opposite of that.

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I am a wuss. I'm scared of so very many things. But one of my main scares, that happens almost daily, is when I get the need to sneeze while I'm driving. I'm just SURE that the moment I close my eyes and ah-choo! a semi-truck will pull in front of me and slam on the brakes, sending me crashing into the back of him (or worse, wedged under the truck and dragged for miles). Or, I'll be in the middle of a big sneeze and a child or a puppy will run out in front of me and I will not even slow down because I didn't see them.

You may laugh, but I sneeze while driving a lot. Most of the other things I'm scared about are more of the "fantasy scare" variety. Things like, dying from falling out of a roller coaster. Or, while sleeping, having thousands of ants crawling on my face. Stuff like that.

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After all the painful, torturous, agonizing mornings that I went through getting Linus to get off to school at the beginning of this school year, he told me the other day, "Mom, I'm friends with almost every body in my whole class!" Just out of the blue. Just for no reason at all. And that has carried me through for a week and counting.

*********************

Lately, when raiding the kids' Halloween candy stash, I go ahead and take two pieces of candy. Because if I take just one piece, I know I'll be back 5 minutes later for a second piece. I've gotten to the point where I simply say to myself, "Who do you think you're kidding, taking only one piece? Just get the second Reeses Peanut Butter Cup and get it over with so you don't have to haul your 40-pound-heavier frame up off the couch one extra time. Sure, it'll burn an extra 3 calories, but looking at the big picture, does that really matter?"

Not All New Experiences Are Good Ones

So, have you ever had a situation where you were afraid you'd lost your wallet? I have. Too many times to count.

Sometimes, I've put my wallet into the bag of groceries and only find it once I get home and have unpacked all the frozen peas and Reeses Peanut Butter Cups broccoli.

Sometimes, I figure out that I've never even brought it with me at all in the first place. It's sitting at home, happily perched next to my computer, waiting for me to finish balancing the checkbook.

Sometimes, I leave it at the checkout line by accident. This also happens with my groceries. It seems that trying to pay for groceries, keep an eye on my children, and leave without them licking any candy that I will have to pay for, requires just TOO many brain cells. I either forget my wallet, or the groceries, or my child.

BUT TODAY, ah yes, today was a special day. Today I shopped at Wal-Mart, and left my wallet at the counter, next to the credit-card-swipey-thingie. Of course I didn't realize this until I got to the next store to buy bubbles for Sally. She must have BUBBLES. RIGHT NOW. TO PLAY WITH. All I heard from 10:35 until 10:47 was "BUBBLES MAMA. BUBBLES. BUBBLES. I BUBBLES. SALLY BUBBLES. BUBBLES. BUBBLES!!!!!!" Thankfully I had some loose cash in the bottom of my purse so I just paid for the bubbles and went home to unload the 2 cartons of ice cream chicken breasts into the fridge.

I went through all the shopping bags - no wallet. I began to panic, thinking about all that could happen if I don't find my wallet. But then I calmed myself. I'd always found my wallet in the past. Every single time, it was simply a case of me putting it somewhere I couldn't remember. So I went back out the the minivan (a.k.a. the Silver Bullet) and searched: under the seats, next to the baby's car seat, in the crevices, in the little nooks and crannies. No luck.

SO... back to Wal-Mart I went. I immediately asked the cashier, "Did you find a wallet? I think I left mine here." By the way, I had initially checked out at 10:15 am. It was now 11:00 am. "Yes I thought so. A woman came through the line after you, and I saw a wallet that I thought was yours. But I asked her, 'Is that your wallet?' And she answered, 'Yes.' So I thought it was hers after all."

Lovely.

Now, I can not and would never blame that cashier. It was *I* who left my wallet. And even if she really did think the wallet was mine, not this other lady's, what was she going to do? Say, "Oh no that ISN'T your wallet! Prove it!" But, still, it sucks to be me.

Immediately I got the security people to check the surveillance cameras, and sure 'nuf, the woman not right after me, but after her, claimed my wallet as her own. By 11:09, she'd charged $125 at Bath & Body Works. By 11:25, another $100 at Famous Footwear. By 11:45, another charge at Macy's for $110, plus two charges that had been declined at Macy's for $185 and $80. Of course, I didn't find out any of this until I began calling all my credit card companies. WHAT a pain in the butt.

So, the thing that pisses me off the most about this whole situation is that the stores where the charges were made, in lightning speed, must have not checked this person's ID. I say this, because Wal-Mart told me that they have the person on video who claimed my wallet as her own. They can't release the video to me, but will be happy to give it directly to the police after I've filed a report. But, the really annoying part is this: The woman was a different race than me. There is NO way she could have passed for me. So, obviously, these stores are NOT checking ID with credit card purchases, no matter how much they lie try to convince me that they are.

Texan Papa had to take a half-day off of work to help me sort all this out. In the end, we think we've covered all our bases. We canceled all our credit cards. We closed our bank accounts and opened new ones. We called the 3 credit reporting bureaus and put a fraud alert on my social security number. But there are so many loose ends that need tying up which are a huge inconvenience. Like, now we need to get new Six Flags season passes. I need to get a new CVS card so I can keep getting my EXTRA CARE BUCKS (Booyah!). As a matter of fact, my Kroger and Tom Thumb grocery cards were in there so I guess any rewards I've earned are down the toilet too. My Sam's Club Card was in there. My library card. My social security card. My punch card for a local resale store. My medical insurance, dental insurance, and medical lab cards were all in there.

One saving grace: I took my 4-gig memory card to Target on Saturday night to print off some photos. Sally ended up pilfering through my wallet and took it out, so I got it out of her hands and tucked it away in my pocket. If she hadn't pulled my photo card out of my wallet, and I hadn't taken it from her, the card would still be in my wallet and all the non-downloaded photos on that card would have been lost forever.

Oh, one more thing that's a silver lining: I literally had about 17 cents in there. See? Sometimes it pays to not carry a big wad of cash, like Dave Ramsey says. Because, Visa loves me and wants to comfort me in my time of distress with the guarantee that I won't be responsible for fraudulent charges.

I have to put in one more little dig. When I filed a police report, the officer told me that they'd have to file it as a "lost wallet," not stolen, because I'd left my wallet on the counter all by myself. I was like, WHAT. THE. HELL. I told her, "But my credit and debit cards were STOLEN. They were used FRAUDULENTLY. So, maybe my wallet was lost but the contents were stolen!" All she could offer was, "Yeah... I know. I'm going to put on here that you want to prosecute. I'm going to put on here that Wal-Mart has the suspect on video. But I can't guarantee when or if your case will be dealt with. I don't know who will get this case and what their caseload will be. If it's really busy, it might not be dealt with at all." AW, HEY-ELL NO. I *AM* going to fight city hall on that one.

So, now I'm thinking of getting one of these.

chain wallet picture from www.bikernet.com

Or these.

fanny pack photo from misanthropytoday.com

Maybe it wouldn't be too bad if I pimped it out with some rhinestones???

Texan Papa is Going All ‘Dave Ramsey’ On Me

For YEARS now I have been trying to get my husband to get on a budget. And, I’m really no better. I suck at budgeting. I want what I want when I want it. But, I know how to control my spending. Especially since getting married, I think a lot harder about not stockpiling anything (especially food) just because it’s on sale; I get what our family needs, maybe a little extra, and no more. Also, when I see something at the store that I really want, but it seems wasteful to buy it, I will try to figure out if I already have something at home that I could get by with instead. If I already have something that works perfectly well, I have a hard time getting rid of it for no reason. Also, sometimes I will just simply put off buying stuff for a week or two. If the urge is still there after a few weeks, then I can re-evaluate our financial situation and if I really need it. More often than not, though, I realize I’ve forgotten all about the thing I just HAD to have.

But anyway, back to my husband. He’s like a “feast or famine” type of budgeter. If we are doing okay with money, he wants to splurge and buy things that he wants. Maybe he’s wanted them for a long time – but that doesn’t stop him from wanting them. Recently he bought a handgun. I have NO idea why. He claims, “Because I’ve always wanted one. And, we live in Texas. And, I can.” All stupid reasons, in my opinion. But, what if I wanted a Cricut machine? He’d probably think that is just as stupid.

Okay, crap, I’m getting off-topic again.

So, when our finances are good, we have fun with what we’ve got. We eat out, we have friends over, we give extra to our church, etc. But, when finances are tight, I’ve been told things like, “Let’s see how long we can go without going to the grocery store.” Uh, What??? Or, “Let’s go down to liability only on our car insurance.” Oh, hay-yell no. Or, “Let’s have a garage sale! We can sell this extra furniture!” Uh, WHAT extra furniture? You mean the chair that you don’t like, but sit in anyway because it’s the only upholstered chair we’ve got? Is THAT what you mean??? When we count every penny at the end of the month, I feel like I can’t even buy a 99-cent Big Gulp because it might put us into the poor house. Really, though, my husband has a great attitude about money. We save for retirement (but of course we could be doing more), our only debt is our mortgage (no car loans or student loans or credit cards), and we faithfully tithe to our church. All this on only one income, for over 11 years.

So, naturally, I was surprised when my husband tells me, completely out of the blue, “I’ve been thinking about money. I think I want to put my credit card in a drawer, and just use cash for everything. I’ll take, like, $200 out each week and use that for gas, eating out, going to Wal-Mart, etc. When it’s gone, it’s gone.”

The angels sang. HA-LE-LU-JAH!

We pay off our credit cards every month. But our problem is that we just spend too much on things we don’t pay any attention to. Things like, eating out, or clothes for the kids, or the clearance aisle at Wal-mart. By only spending a set amount of money each week or month, I am hoping this will curb Texan Papa’s urge to spend frivolously. Yes, it’s still a FAR leap from creating a budget where we set aside money for car repairs or Christmas gifts. But it’s a start.

Now, for the bad part: I guess this means he’s going to expect ME to do it too.

If You Ask For Nothing, That's What You'll Get

This is the biggest lesson my dad ever taught me. He was a big believer in asking for anything he wanted. Sometimes, as a kid, it would embarrass me to be at the store and hear Dad saying things like, “Well, can’t you take 20% off these cabinets? I know you want to move these out and make room for the new ones to display.” And, they’d do it. Or, “If I buy all of these gas grills that you’ve got left, will you ship them to my house for free?” And you know what? They do it! Even when I shopped for my wedding dress, My dad got the dress shop to throw in the alterations for free, because he offered to pay the bill in cash. And, because HE ASKED.

I think a lot of people underestimate the power of just asking. You can get lower rates on credit cards, you can get better plans for cable TV, you can get free shipping, all kinds of stuff is negotiable! Stuff you’d never imagine that would be negotiable! And, this doesn’t just apply to places like car dealerships. You can make deals at any retail store by simply talking to a manager. Quite often, they have the power to reduce prices or throw in free incentives on anything they sell. I have learned that a few moments of feeling uncomfortable and pushy usually pays off big time. Sure, some times I’m told “no”, but then I’m no worse off than if I’d never asked at all, right? This is a really powerful tool for my family, since we have 6, almost 7, people. When we have to buy lots of things, the costs add up. Even getting a break of 10% is something, right?

My sister has told me, for years, that I got everything I ever asked for when I was a kid. I don’t remember it that way (ah, the elusive Sit ‘N Spin and the unattainable Easy Bake Oven) but I do remember asking for some big things that I did actually get. Like, going to private high school. New furniture for my 16th birthday. And, studying abroad in Ireland for a semester in college. Knowing my sister, she probably wanted all the same things but was too timid to ask. I think maybe I got a healthy dose of my dad’s chutzpah in the genes. Maybe I was just obnoxious and thought I could get what I wanted because I was the baby of the family. I don’t know. Either way, I know I had self-control over what I asked for – never shooting for the moon – but I also recognized that asking quietly, at the right time of day, and waiting patiently for an answer, usually paid off.

So, today I enjoyed checking my email, then I had to go to my weekly doctor’s appointment. When I came home, I noticed that I couldn’t connect to the internet. My modem’s power was down. “That’s weird,” I thought. After all, Texan Papa had not moved a muscle since I’d left him sleeping in bed 3 hours earlier. And, I noticed, the power had not gone off. Finally, I checked the surge protector, but all the other things plugged into the surge protector were working just fine.

So I called AT&T. We bought our modem from them when we set up phone service last year. They said, “Oh, I am so sorry that your modem is out of warranty now.” (Yeah, right. Like you really care.) “But we would be happy to sell you a new modem. I can connect you with the sales department.” To which I responded, “Now why would I want that? Probably the next modem you sell me will crap out right after the warranty expires too!” Then I added, “Can you give me a new one at a pro-rated amount if I send back my old one?” The operator connected me with the sales department and… They offered me a brand new wireless modem. For free. All I have to pay is the shipping charges which are a measly $13. I couldn’t BUY a new wireless modem that cheap. As for now, I’m typing this post on MS Word on Thursday afternoon, and I’m going to run up to the library tonight so I can copy it into my blog and schedule it to post later.

So, see? If I’d accepted their crappy offer to just pony up $100 for a new modem plus shipping charges from them, I’d be fuming. Or, if I’d decided to buy one from a store, I’d be scouring ads and comparing prices and driving all over town.

But now? I’m going to have my new modem delivered to me on Monday. All because I asked.

Flashback Friday: Cheating

Hey Y'all.

I am visiting you from my local library because my modem is broken. BLAH!!! But, here's my post for FLASHBACK FRIDAY. I hope y'all participate and visit the other FF-ers.

So, c'mon. Join the fun. And don't forget to leave your URL with Mr. Linky!

Cheating?

Have you ever said to yourself, as you are preparing the dinner-time meal, "Well you sexy mommy, the kids are supposed to get 5 servings of fruits & veggies every day. Our count for today is.... does ketchup count?... How many carrot sticks are enough to make a serving?.... maybe I'll do better tomorrow."

Well, my very good friend Deb, who is the lunch lady at my kids' former school, let me in on a little trick. If you use 100% juice when making Jell-O, it will count as a serving of fruit. Since she has to follow all those USDA guidelines for school servings and health department rigamarole, I am sure she knows what she's talkin 'bout.


When she told me this I about jumped up and down and did a Herkie. My kids are good eaters, but when it comes to Jell-O they are good shovelers. Plus, I already use the sugar-free jello because my kids need more sugar like I need an extra 20 pounds on my stomach.

So, is that cheating? Giving them fruit disguised as a yummy treat? This mommy says no way. Any trick that gets a kid to the top of that food pyramid is a secret that needs to be shared.

Baby #1 vs. Baby #5

Compare/Contrast what it's like to have your first child vs. having your fifth child

Baby #1: Read all the parenting books you can lay your hands on.
Baby #5: Read lots of Erma Bombeck and say a lot of "Yeah, been there, done that!"

Baby #1: Take classes on child birth, breastfeeding, and infant massage.
Baby #5: Get a massage.

Baby #1: Research the experts' top choices for strollers, carseats, and baby gear.
Baby #5: Dust off the carseat and stroller, using a blanket to cover the sun-bleached fabric.

Baby #1: Pack a hospital suitcase with nursing pajamas, makeup, and a cute post-delivery outfit.
Baby #5: Pack your purse with make-up, because the memory of post-delivery photos from babies 1-4 are just too awful to repeat.

Baby #1: Can't wait to take your new little dumpling home.
Baby #5: How long can I stay here in the hospital, while people bring meals to me in bed and will happily take a crying baby away into another room?

Baby #1: Tons of new baby booties, baby hats, baby outfits, and diapers.
Baby #5: Stop at Wal-Mart on the way home from the hospital to buy diapers.

Baby #1: Everyone must stay back 10 feet from the baby for the first 2 months, to avoid contamination of the sterile "baby area".
Baby #5: Have a baby-welcoming party the first Sunday afternoon after the baby is home.

Baby #1: Agonize over the perfect name.
Baby #5: Pick the name once you arrive at the hospital. Change your mind after delivery.

Baby #1: Capture every momentous occasion on video, in pictures, and recorded in a baby book.
Baby #5: Document important events on the calendar, next to "PTL meeting 6:30"

Baby #1: Use only bottled nursery water for formula, organic baby food, and sterilize every bottle after each and every use.
Baby #5: How soon can I start solids? And by solids, I mean, Kraft Mac 'N Cheese?

Got any more? Share 'em!

Wordless Wednesday: Haircut

Before:

After:

This was my inspiration:

Photo of Mariska Hargitay from theBOSH.

WHEW - I needed that.

What Age Technology?

I can remember a time when I would get a good chuckle out of listening to my mom talk about "using the computer". Because she never used it. Ever. I even clearly remember teaching her how to double click.

"You have to click the mouse faster, Mom. Two clicks. Tap-tap. I don't KNOW why it's two clicks instead of one. It just IS. No, you only clicked it once. Now you have to do it again. No, not once more - TWICE MORE. Yes, I know, now it's like 3 clicks, but trust me, the computer will ignore the first "slow click". Okay, sure, the computer isn't human and doesn't have a brain. But it knows a double click when it gets one."

So now, I am ashamed to admit that I am an old fart when it comes to technology. Yes, I have an MP3 player that I love, but it's almost 3 years old. It is a 1 gig player, with a teensy weensy screen (not for videos, just for song titles). I know how to download songs, but I have always wondered about podcasts. Are they free or do I pay for them? And, I use Twitter but what is Tweet Deck? When it comes to my computer, what is cache? What are cookies? I can't figure out if they are good or bad? Do I want them or should I get rid of them?

So, considering that clearly the next generation is getting a chuckle out of me the same way I was amused by my own mother, maybe they are the ones who are better suited for the latest technological gadgets.

But, as more and more of my friends buy these electronic gifts for their children, I am simply left more and more surprised. I have one friend who bought her son a laptop - one of those with a 10-inch screen - when he was 9. And, we all know kids who have iPods and cell phones. And, for that matter, I think my kids are the only ones in America left who don't have a Nintendo DS.

I think my husband and I have fought putting technology into our childrens' young hands because we want to keep the control with us, not with the advertisers/celebrities/internet/peers that will reach them through these hand-held gadgets. But what age is appropriate to give a child these machines? What do you think?

I mean, no one can argue that a cell phone would provide a measure of safety for a child going out alone or with friends, unchaperoned. But, is a child mature enough to keep from using the cell phone irresponsibly? And, the internet... My friend's son (the one with the laptop) got to some online site - FOR KIDS - playing some type of trivia game. He entered her cell phone number to get answers for trivia questions and she ended up with a HUGE cell phone bill because all these trivia answers were being texted to her. So, his behavior wasn't really dangerous but clearly he didn't understand how that worked and what type of cell phone charges his actions would incur.

I know, we can't keep our kids protected from everything forever. And, with the right guidance, kids can be taught responsibility and have it modeled for them. But, I think it's one of those times in parenthood where each family just has to make the call on "This is the rule in our house, no matter what the rule is in other houses." Like, what age can kids watch PG-13 movies, or can a child have a phone in their own room? What age is the right age for a kid to have a cell phone, or an iPod, or a laptop? And, does the value of the item play any role in that decision? What makes a cell phone different from a regular phone, an iPod different from a radio/CD player, a laptop different from a TV or a typewriter? Does it have to do with what they are used for? Or does it have to do with gaining the privileges of adulthood too soon?

I'm curious. What do you think?

I {heart} Mondays

Now, THIS is how to start the week!

BOO-YAH!

When You Wish Upon a Pumpkin...

Wait, that's not how the song goes?

Saturday night was so wonderful crappy for me. Now, before anyone replies, Oh I am so sorry you had such a bad time, please don't feel sorry for me. It's the lack of meds and the hormones and me being unable to cope with 4 children for the entire weekend alone.

Again.

Before I get on with my pitiful story, let me say that my husband has a crappy supervisor. For the last 18 months, he has been saddled with a schedule that requires him to work Friday, noon-9pm; Saturday 7am-4pm; and Sunday noon-9pm. So, when our kids are actually off school, I am all by myself for basically 3 whole days. Texan Papa has asked to get the schedule switched but so far, the boss has been less than interested in being nice.

Let me also say that I decided to go off my meds once again. After I wrote about it last month, and so many people were concerned about me, I started them up again. And they helped. But I talked to my doctor and he said, "Well, you can quit taking them anytime you want." His medical prowess is not exactly impressive. (I know, the next logical question... why is he your doctor then? Well, he's a good OB, but as far as psychological meds... my instincts aren't getting a big boost of confidence from him.) So, at 8 months, I decided I wanted to get off the meds since I will probably be breastfeeding and I wanted my body to have a month to flush the chemicals out of my system. And now I'm back to short tempers, feeling overwhelmed, and crying more often.

So, anyway...

It's Saturday night and the kids have been asking me all day, every 5 minutes, is it time to go trick-or-treating yet? Finally, it's getting close to the time to get dressed, and Texan Papa comes home from work, and I tell him that we haven't had time to go visit the older couple across town because we've been busy. So of course he suggests we go now! I ask, are you sure? Maybe tomorrow? No, tonight will be the night to go. So, now I have to hurry up, get the kids dressed, get myself dressed, keep children dressed, find missing pieces to costumes, and figure out what we're going to do for dinner. And, of course, my husband needs to use ALL this time to go to the bathroom... because apparently that's what male humans do. They can not go #2 quickly, like every mother is forced to do. They must sit on the toilet and read War and Peace before "doing the paperwork". And leaving the bathroom without turning on the fan. Finally we are leaving, we are buckling the kids into the van, and Texan Papa says, "why don't you just stay home by yourself and have a break." And, his tone did not say, "I understand you've had a bad day." His tone totally said, "I don't want to be around you, you cranky bitch." ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME???? WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY THIS 20 MINUTES AGO SO I COULD HAVE NOT PUT MY EFFING COSTUME ON??? OF COURSE YOU ARE WILLING TO TAKE THE KIDS NOW... I AM THE ONE WHO DID ALL THE WORK GETTING THEM READY!!!

So, seeing the older couple. Kids running around. Me herding cats children, husband deeply engrossed in a conversation with the older man about a trolling motor for the canoe. I, who didn't even want to come over in the first place, am beginning to have a panic attack because of children saying things like, "These treats are gross. I don't want this apple" after receiving an entire BAG of goodies from these people; and Sally running around the house, ready to knock over some expensive tchotchke any moment.

Finally we leave, get home in time to trick-or-treat, and decide to take the van with us. Scratch that, *I* decide we are going to take the van. I tell Texan Papa, "we can take turns driving while the other one walks with the kids, okay?" He lets out an exasperated sigh and says, "well, I guess." I'm about one second from getting all psycho on his ass. I tell him that I am 8 and a half months pregnant and it would be nice if someone would SYMPATHIZE and BE WILLING to RECOGNIZE THAT WALKING IS KINDA TOUGH.

I wish I had a husband who, at least occasionally, said, "Hon, is there anything I can get for you?"

I wish I had kids who could at least pay half as much attention to me that they do to the T.V.

I wish I had a dog that didn't dig under our fence at least twice a day, every day, making more landscaping work necessary as well as making our house stink from all the crap she's dug through.

I wish I had parents that actually wanted to come visit. Their idea of a visit is once a year, for one or two days. Even when I've lived out of state, I have always visited THEM more than they've come to visit me. And I'm the one with a gaggle of kids.

I wish I was more patient.

I wish I didn't over analyze stuff.

Mostly, I wish - JUST FOR ONE DAY - that someone did for me what I do for them. Fold my clothes. Make my lunch. Dust my furniture. Vacuum my bedroom floor. Iron my work clothes. Pay my bills. Remember for me what I've forgotten. Take my phone messages. Find my lost homework/sunglasses/pencil/keys/pacifier/Yu-Gi-Oh cards/shoe. Mend my torn shirt. Sniff my clothes to see if they're dirty or clean. Wipe up all the crap I leave behind. Allow me to barge in on them while they're going to the bathroom, just so I can ask what time it is.

I know, I'm a mother. That's my lot in life. And I'm not asking to abdicate my responsibilities to someone else forever. But for one day it would be nice.

When you wish upon a gourd
Only happens when you're bored
Anything your heart desires
Will elude you.

Make a wish at Halloween
And you'll see what I have seen
Any one who grants moms' wishes

Will say

SCREW YOU.

Better luck next year, eh?

Givin' Props where Props are Due

My last post, about the yummiest, easiest dessert/snack ever, started out with me typing all the instructions and then taking photos from the internet to illustrate my point.

You see, I was all jazzed up to publish my post and get it in for the deadline in order to (hopefully) win a Flip video camera over at Better In Bulk. Later, when I actually made the delectable Oreo Truffles (or, if you have a weird sense of humor - like me - you can call 'em Oreo Balls) I did take pictures as I was creating a tornado in the kitchen. So, I later uploaded my own photos and took the pirate photos off my post. (By the way, in a few of the pictures, you can just barely see my huge prego belly inching its way into the shot. What can I say? Little baby Violet must already be an attention whore.)

So, anyway, a reader/friend brought up a good point to me: even though I lifted all the photos from Google images, and I did credit Google Images at the end of the post (BTW I removed the credit after I put up my own photos), should I have given individual credit to each site from which I got the photos? How does that work, exactly? I know some folks will use a "watermark" (like a transparent, but readable, site name across the photograph) to guarantee that any future publishing of the photo will give credit to the photographer. But, I just can't figure out what the deal is. I know sometimes when I search Google Images, the same photo comes up on site after different site, but credit isn't given to anyone. Maybe those are from a "free photograph" place? And, if my blog isn't earning any money, and I never claim that the photo is my own, am I still participating in copyright infringement? Or Creative Commons infringement?

I mean, technically, when it all comes down to it, I am pretty sure no one would ever sue me over it. Especially considering my desperate attempt to avoid being found by never putting my last name on anything here. But legality is not my real concern... I want to be an honest member of the blogging community. I want to spread the good vibes, not karma that says, "Too bad for you, suckah!"

I have read that putting a photo on a post is a good practice for keeping/attracting new readers. I know, I could subscribe to one of those sites that has photos for sale but really, would you want to pay every time you posted a picture of ketchup or coupons?

So, what's your take on this?