Random Musings: Whiner Edition . . .

{Mr. Ollie pondering thoughtfully}

I think I've lost my Olympic flame. I've fallen asleep early the past three nights and have missed most of the ladies' figure skating.

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We had brinner last night. I made this tasty dish and THE cinnamon rolls. We each ate two. And then my kids asked if there was dessert. It pretty much killed my night.

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The wind was so crazy last night it sounded like the Arctic Tundra. I couldn't sleep. Apparently neither could Ollie.

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I sort of dread this weekend. Because most of our time is already spoken for which means little to no time together.

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The Legos have taken over my basement. How do I know this? One became embedded in my foot last night as I stumbled through the dark to reach the giftwrap.

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I'm cheating on my new computer with my old computer because I have yet to decide what photo software to use. Should I Picasa? Or should I Photoshop? You know Jacob wants me all to himself.

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I miss my mom. She's one of the only adults I see on a regular basis. She's a huge help with Ollie.  And she's one of my besties.

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I don't want to get dressed.  My winter clothes are LAME-O.  Spring is not coming to Virginia. It will be winter. Forever.

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There. I feel much better. Sometimes, a girl just needs to whine. Thanks for listening.

Trendsetter?

I'm not sure how we managed to do it, but my mom {the Queen} and I have singlehandedly started three major trends in the past few years.  What?  You mean you haven't noticed? 

Well, it seems that since my mom declared herself 'The Queen' back in 2007, major fashion, home and craft industry higher-ups have done everything in their power to emblazen clothing, bedding, wall hangings, scrapbook papers, stamps, stickers and a multitude of other items with all things royal.  Crowns, sceptors, even the very words "I Am The Queen".  Coincidence?  I think not. I'm telling you, my mom's got some serious power. It always pays to make the Queen happy. Can't you just see her chillaxin' in this hoodie:

{image found here}

Next, I went and had a baby.  And decided that he was more Owlie than Ollie. And BAM! Owls are all the rage.  I am seriously having to do everything I can to withstand the urge to buy hundreds of darling, round- eyed, hooting, feathered friends.  How can I resist when people create things like this:

{image via Etsy here}

It's tough, let me tell you.

I realized we might just be THE trendsetters when I delcared my love of Dragonflies and suddenly, they were all over the place, spreading their glorious wings on everything from sweaters to stationary.  Since I started this trend, it seems only natural that I enjoy some of the fruits of my hard labor. 

Here is some of the GORGEOUS dragonfly love that has been sent my way recently:

  
This guy sits in my kitchen window and reflects beautiful prismatic light while I scrub grimey dishes. {Notice the snow from hell?}

And this classy fellow is a perfect match to the decor in the dining room. He even came with his own clever little stand.

Here's a small fry whose actual purpose of holding papers has been eclipsed by his ability to make my ugly fridge door look darling.

This sparkler is brand spanking new and is calling to me, "Make. The. Cookies. Now. You. Weak. Woman."  The cookie cutter's wishes are my commands.

This tasteful specimen atop my piano was a gift from the Queen.  I gift her with regal things every now and again, too. See how we feed eachother in this trendy realm?

But this, well, this might just be the current favorite.  It's a delicate little ceramic box with a crackle finish.  It holds my wedding rings while I make the cinnamon rolls or pizza dough.  It came to me from a dear cousin at the height of my post-baby blues, and in its tiny vessel was stored an ample amount of love.  It is very special to me.

Just let me know if there is something you would like turned into a major trend.  I'm pretty sure the Queen and I could arrange it, for a minimal fee.

{Disclaimer:  Sarcasm. But you knew that, right?}

A Simpler Life in 2010

 

Welcome to my junk drawer. Contrary to what you might think, I did not clean it for this picture.  It always looks like this because I am an anal retentive, obsessively organized, type A control freak. And I love my junk drawer.  Bizarre?  Yes.  But it is a good demonstration of one of my favorite simplification principles {say it with me}:

A place for everything, and everything in its place! 

Wait, isn't that a preschool mantra? Or a toy room mantra?  Or a mantra we, as adults, drill into the heads of our children from the tender age when they start coming to us with whiny voices saying, "Mom, I can't find my {insert five billion important kid items here}!" 

But somewhere along the way, we seem to forget that this principle totally applies to adults and all our stuff, too. This forgetfulness leads to frustration and confusion and bouts of wondering if we have early onset Alzheimer's because we can't find that one thing we know we just saw the other day . . . somewhere.

 Which is why I love my junk drawer.  I know exactly where staples, rubber bands, superglue, tape, nail clippers, spare shoelaces, chapstick, tiny little eyeglass screwdrivers, highlighters, dental floss, allen wrenches, tape measures, hole punches, thumbtacks, paperclips, clothespins, needle and thread, paint deck, and ruler are at any given moment.  Better yet, they aren't all just thrown in the drawer to comingle and become one tangled mess of junk draweriness.  They've each got a little place within the place to sit, ready for finding by me, my Hubby and our kiddoes.

Now imagine the junk drawer on a greater scale.  Apply it to your winterwear, your closet,  your kitchen cupboards, your games, DVDss and CDs.  Give everything a SPECIFIC place to reside.  Put it there after EACH and EVERY use.  And you will ALWAYS know where to find it.

And that, my friends, is a happy, happy thing.

I'm off to recharge my pantry, which does not look like my junk drawer. It looks more like a bomb exploded in it, leaving a trail of cereal crumbs, chocolate chips and flour dust in its wake.  There is always room for improvement.

Oh! Canada!

{Image via Google Images}

Remember this beret from the 2002 Winter Olympics in Salt Lake City?  It was all the rage.  My sister-in-law and I stood in line in the freezing cold for over two hours to try to get one of these berets.  Alas, when we finally got into the Roots store, they were sold out.  Waaaaaa! I think I might have pouted just a little bit.

Until my mail came yesterday, where upon I became one of the coolest people ever.  At least for the next week until the Olympics are over.  Because I own these:

 

The IT item for the Vancouver Winter Games {or so Oprah says}. A gift from my friend Jennie Doezie, who was lucky enough to journey across the border for a real Olympic experience.  This girl knows how to make me happy - Olympic ring bedecked, tiny white maple leafed, fleece lined, finger-togetherness! Be still my heart!
 

They are AWESOME, I adore them will all my being and you will finding me wearing them each night from 8:00 til Midnight while watching my daily dose of Olympic coverage as the Hubby snores next to me - except for when I take them off to put another oreo in my mouth.  Crumbs, people, crumbs.

Go Team USA!  Go Apolo!  And thanks for the cute mittens Jennie and Canada!

ps.  Jennie, do you remember OUR famous trip to Canada?  Good times, my friend, good times!

You Win . . . I Quit!

Edited to add:
This is a picture of Big C at the recital on Saturday.  I DO NOT OWN A BABY GRAND!!!

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know that I proudly wear and flaunt the title of “Meanest Mom On The Planet.”  One of my ingenious ways of maintaining that title is to force my kids to do things they hate.  Like chores.  And homework. And being nice to each other. And actually kissing their mom on the cheek.
 
When the older kids got to that magical age where activities like scouts, sports and multiple play dates began to fill their schedules, the Hubby and I put together a little plan to help reign in the chaos and tame the calendar.  The plan was this:  They could choose one activity to participate in and we could choose one activity for them to participate in. With two {and now three} kids ‘of activity age’ this was our best solution for controlling insanity and limiting chauffeur time for me and maintaining some open time in our calendar where we could just be a normal family at home.

Big C has consistently chosen sports as his activity.  He plays basketball in the winter and baseball in spring and fall.  Hannie B has switched between softball, art classes and drama club.  RedDog has enjoyed teeball. 

The Hubby and I decided early on that as our choice of activity, we’d like the children to attempt learning to play an instrument – something neither of us did as children.  After scoring a deal on a piano, we enrolled Big C, Hannie B and in lessons. That was four years ago.

Here’s the part of this post where I’d like to tell you that it has been a smooth ride.  It has not.  There has been a lot of whining and some crying and some yelling and even some throwing of piano books.  And much of this has been on the part of my oldest child. The. Boy. Hates. The. Piano.

The plan was to have him continue with piano until he earned his Eagle Scout award, after which time he’d be free from the bonds of piano servitude forever, and would hopefully be able to plunk out a hymn or two if ever called upon.

But after careful consideration and considerable frustration, the Hubby and I decided that it was fruitless to continue throwing hundreds of dollars away month after month on something that caused so much contention in our home and made our kid miserable.  And now we are quitters. 

Big C played his last recital on Saturday.  He is done.  I am sad about it, but not because I lost and he won.  I’m sad because it was a joy to me to hear him play a tune on the piano.  In place of piano we have decided, with excited approval from C, that he will participate in our church choir.  It seemed like a better fit, considering how much he enjoys being in the school choir.

Meanwhile, my little princess Hannie B loves the piano, practicing the piano, showcasing her songs in music class at school, and will continue on with lessons until I die or the piano breaks.

About That Manning Up Thing . . .

A week ago I told you that my brother thinks my blog is too girly.  As in emotional. And unrelatable for men.  I asked for your help.  And you came through by offering up all sorts of great suggestions for appealing to the male readership – if there is any male readership besides my two dads. 

You suggested guns, action flicks, sports, blowing things up, greasy food, manly fashion, hot women {thought I’d already covered that by posting a picture of myself every now and then, hardy har!} and the like.

But instead of broaching any of those topics today, I’m going to start this manning up experiment by giving you – my mostly female readership - a manly blog recommendation.  Because believe it or not, for over a year and a half now, I’ve been reading a manly man’s blog . . . that is almost 90% sports related . . . and I don’t miss a post. EVER.  Because he is just that good.

Ladies and gentleman, I’d like to introduce you to Fatty.  As in the Fat Cyclist. This self deprecating, faux-egomaniacal, downright hilarious blogger has had me laughing so hard some days that the Hubby will pipe in from the other room, “What on earth?” only to turn the corner and see me reading Fatty.

Fatty is a cyclist of both the dirt and road variety.  Am I a cyclist?  No.  I’m a postpartum  mommy who hasn’t moved her jiggly bum in months. But I am related to this:

And I’m married to this:

And I have been known to enjoy obsessing quite a bit over this during the summer:

So, it would stand to reason that I could handle a little blog about cycling.  Except that this blog isn’t little.  It’s another one of those super famous blogs {Fatty might just be the third most famous blogger I pretend to know in real life, right behind Pioneer Woman and Nie Nie}.

It’s not that reading Fatty’s blog makes me want to become a cyclist.  In fact, most of the time, his posts just give me a lot more to laugh about where my husband and brother are concerned.  He’s just gut splittingly funny.  And I enjoy his sense of humor on a very personal level.

But there’s this other thing. I think it might have been my friend Sue who first mentioned Fatty’s blog to me during my father’s battle with cancer. You see, what started for Fatty as a blog about biking soon turned into a blog about biking and his wife’s battle with breast cancer.  And then it turned into a great way to raise cancer awareness and money for the Lance Armstrong Foundation and Huntsman Cancer Institute. 

Having watched a loved one deal with cancer first hand, I was instantly drawn to Fatty’s candid, emotional writing concerning his wife and her struggle.  And I was moved by his love and care for her.  And amazed at his ability to combine his love of biking with his love for his wife to raise over HALF A MILLION dollars towards cancer research through creative contests and amazing giveaways. Seriously, this guy is a force to be reckoned with. I wonder if there are any cyclists out there who DON’T know about Fatty.

Last fall Fatty’s wife passed away after her 5 year fight against cancer.  But he’s still continuing the fight against cancer.  And he’s still riding his bicycles.  And thank goodness, he’s still blogging about it.

You can check out a few of my favorite  recent Fatty posts here and here. And you can thank me later. 

Meet Jacob

Today I am blogging on my birthday present.  It’s a new computer.   He’s shiny and black.  And sleek and smooth.  And  he’s fast.  Big C suggested that my camera, Edward, needed a friend named Jacob.  I think it fits. What say you?

A Simpler Life In 2010 . . .

I used to be the kind of mom who lovingly got up an extra 15 to 20 minutes early to pack delicious, nutritious lunches for my children. But I'm not that mom anymore. Now I am sleep deprived from getting up with an infant at night. And now I realize that the morning rush is crazy enough without lunch packing. And now I've learned that my kids are actually more likely to eat their lunches if they pack them themselves. So, here's how I made my {and our} life simpler:

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I made packing lunches part of the kids' getting ready for bed routine.  They do it, too, because if they don't,  lunch is just a peanut butter sandwich.  Gag.

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I created a formula for packing lunches.  It's so easy even my little First Grader RedDog  can do it.  It goes like this:

1. Get out your lunchbox, which you dutifully put in the cupboard when you came home from school.
2. Open up the lunch drawer {which also happens to be the tupperware drawer}.
3. Get a drink, a snack, a cookie, an applesauce or some chips.
4.  Go to the fridge and get some carrots or cucumbers or cherry tomatoes or apples or oranges or grapes or a string cheese or a yogurt.
5. Make yourself a sandwich or get your thermos ready for mom to fill with leftovers in the morhning.
6. Have mom or dad check to see that you have a fruit, a veggie, a drink, a sandwich, a dairy item and some good ol' fashioned processed junk in your lunch.  If it passes inspection, close it up and put it in the fridge.

The new way of lunch packing has been a great tidechanger in our house.  I don't get complaints about yucky lunches anymore.  If the kids don't finish their lunch at school, they have it for their after school snack.  We're not rushing last minute to throw lunches together in the morning.  Butterflies and birds are flying around our kitchen and all is at peace and harmony.  Okay, maybe no butterflies, but at least the kids and I don't dread lunches anymore.

What's your school lunch trick?

Edited to add:  I used to let my kids buy the school lunch a few times a week.  Then I went to lunch with them one day and smelled it, watched kids throwing over 75% of it in the trash, saw many kids opting for the yogurt and a bagel option, and realized we could do better.

Photo Shoot . . .

Disclaimer: If you don't want to see a whole boat load of pictures containing chubby fat rolls on baby legs, move on my friend, this post is not for you.

On Sunday, while the others were off at church, Mr. Ollie and I had a little photo shoot. The light in his room was great, I had a beautiful plush blanket crying out, "Use me! Use me!" and I had a onesie from a Grandma that needed a little showing off on Valentine's Day. Wait, did I mention that my baby is sorta cute? It helps. It really does.

I'd let the pictures do the talking, but where's the fun in that? Instead I'm gonna let you know exactly what Ollie is thinking.

What's this?  She just handed me paper?  She never hands me paper!  Think.  Think.  Oka;y, I have a plan.

Watch as I begin by distracting her with my little rubber band wrist.  See how it looks like it was screwed onto my arm like a little doll part?  It gets her every time.  Drives her absolutely batty.  Meanwhile, I am stealthily examining every inch of 'the paper'.

Now I look her in the eye.  She is too busy gooing and gaaing over my cuteness to even notice that I've moved 'the paper' towards its intended target.  She is too wrapped up in the curl of my little toes and the milky whiteness of my skin to even have the slightest suspicion.

You'd think she might be on to me here because my gob is wide open, ready for the kill.  But she's a little dense when I'm this adorable, so she hides behind the camera to get the shot.  The camera . . . he is my friend. 

Yesssss!  It worked.  My unwavering charm and disarming wit knocked her off her feet and she didn't even comprehend my devious plan all along to eat the paper. And oh! is it ever delicious.

Wait!  She batted my arm down.  Woman!  That hurt me.  Deep. You have no right to cross me that way. 

Unbelieveable!  She's taken 'the paper' away.  And I am angry.  Angry about 'the paper' and angry that she has pigeonholed me with the words on this shirt.  I'll show her.  I'll show her just how lovable I am.

Hang on a minute.  I can be lovable.  And if I am, it might get me 'the paper' back.  I'll grin for her.

And she'll give in.  She always gives in.

Thanks Momma!  Happy Valentine's Day.

As if this photo shoot weren't enough to melt my heart on Valentine's Day, the RedDog left this in my mailbox.  I will frame it and hang it on my wall.  It is what every mother needs to hear.  It is what every mother wants her kids to feel {and I'm totally okay with the fact that only one of my kids feels it.}

What's Not To Love?

Valentine's Day on a Sunday isn't my favorite. And let's face it, with the kids home from school ALL last week due to snow, I was already behind on life in general, not to mention any sort of plans for V-Day. But due to cancellations aplenty on Saturday, I was able to sneak away with the Hubby for some delicious Thai food and last minute shopping which resulted in a lovely Valentine's Day for everyone.

We usually have a big breakfast on Valentine's day, including heart shaped biscuits and sausage. Not possible this year with early church. I thought the Hubby's solution was perfect. And the kids didn't complain one bit!

On Saturday night I was able to combine Olympic watching {did you see that Apolo take silver?} and heart garland sewing, using these hearts here. All the cutting out was worth the look on little faces Sunday morning as doors were opened. And it's reusable, so I'll be tucking this garlandy cuteness away until next year.

Ollie has a wicked cough right now, so he and I stayed home from church, which gave me time to finish up one last little project. I got three small $1 boxes of Russel Stover chocolates from the grocery store and embelleshed them with paper and scrapbooking do-dads for each of the kids. After removing the chocolates and disposing of them in an appropriate manner {chomp, chomp, swallow} I filled the boxes with conversation hearts and special coupons custom made to fit the loves of each child. Here's Big C's box:

The boxes {Hannie B's pictured} were front and center on the pink plates adorning our table. These pink dishes were a thrift store find and only come out twice a year - on Valentine's Day and Easter. Pretty cute!

 

My energy level kicked in at the last minute and I ran down to the basement to get all the heart shaped dishes right before it was time to eat.  This one was perfect for chips and salsa!

The dinner menu this year included Red Chicken Enchiladas, Heart Shaped Quesadillas, Salad, Strawberries, Cherry Jell-O {crowd fave}, Chips and Salsa and Strawberry Ice Cream. What's do be done with poor evening lighting?  {Suggestions Sue?}

The coupons were a big hit with the kiddoes.  I even made some for the Hubby {not pictured}...

We ended our day with a family dance off to the Wii game "Just Dance".  If you have not played this game, you must.  It is hilarious and had us all laughing our heads off. I may or may not have actually wet my pants whilst dancing and laughing so hard.  Love was everywhere yesterday!

Tomorrow:  The awesome outtakes from my impromptu Valentine's photo shoot with the little Owl.  And one Valentine's note that stole the show.  Happy Monday!

Oh No! A Secret Crush . . .

{image via Google images}

Did you know I have a sibling {possibly an in-law} who secretly has dreams of competing in Luge at the Winter Olympics?  It's true.  This person would totally rock it - I am convinced.  I'm still trying to figure out how to make it happen for her {or him}.

Did you know that the same sibling and I share a little penchant for figure skating, much to the chagrin of our significant others.  We don't mind though.  As long as we've got eachother and those triple salchows, we'll be fine.

Did you know that eight years ago we were living in Utah when Salt Lake City hosted the best Winter Olympics EVER?  I can still taste the excitement and pride the state had as it welcomed the world's best athletes to compete at its venues. It was a magical time.

Did you know that during those two weeks in 2002, my Hubby and I got to attend some Team USA hockey games?  We were totally obnoxious dressed in our red, white and blue waving an enormous American flag.  And it was so fun. I'd show you a picture, but my scanner is temporarily out of commission. A Valentine's gift may or may not alleviate this situation.

Did you know that during those two weeks we were also introduced to a little Olympic event called Short Track Speed Skating. The tickets were given to us as a gift.  Our first exposure blew our minds because it contained none other than the Apolo Antone Ohno.  And that is when my secret crush began. Massive quads, bandana tied ala Axel Rose, soul patch - and that smile.  I hadn't even seen him smash the competition yet, but when he did, I think even the Hubby had a crush! Nevermind that apparently he can dance too.

Tonight the Winter Olympics begin.  And Mr. Ohno is set to become the most decorated U.S. Winter Olympian ever.  I'll be watching.  Will you?
  

Progress . . .

This picture is a perfect demonstration of four facts:

1. My bald little blue-eyed Owlie is sitting up on his own.
2. RedDog and I have different definitions of what it means to make a bed.
3. We just don't breed superchubby babies. Instead we opt for ample thighs, but skinny middles {like me}.
4. Homebound due to snow = micromesses EVERYWHERE and generous photo cropping = house cleaning.

Can't you tell we are making progress here? As in it finally stopped snowing after 48 inches. And there is blue sky. And killer death-sized icicles dripping everywhere. And we are getting really professional at shoveling. And barely any food is left in the fridge. And every single activity we had for the weekend is now cancelled, including church, again.

Never mind that I haven't done a thing for my family's Valentine's Day. Or that if I have to say "Get Along!" one more time I might blow a gasket. Or that I am blogging at 3:00 in the afternoon because it's the first time I've been able to sit at the computer all day.

We are making progress.