I usually send a letter with my Christmas card, kind of a look back at the year. But thanks to my bout of the flu right after Thanksgiving, I found myself with too many things to do and not enough time to do them all, so the Christmas letter was jettisoned. But now on the far side of Christmas, I feel the need to sum up the year. So without further explanation, I give you the "The Holleys Take on 2009."
This was a pretty good year for us. Adam continues to work at IBM and received the highest employee rating from his manager for the fourth year in a row. Even though I have no idea exactly what it is that he does (even though he has explained it to me), I am very proud of him. For pleasure, Adam spent many late Friday nights shooting zombies and other things on his X-box 360. Again, I don't understand it but if it makes him happy....
Andrew turned three years old this year. He continues to delight us and, also, drive us crazy, usually at the same time. He loves to sing and dance and play with his trucks and tractors. This fall, he began a soccer program at school and is very good at kicking the ball (not sure he needed any lessons to learn that one).
We bought season passes to Six Flags Fiesta Texas in the spring and visited the amusement park many times. We all had a great time and we discovered that Andrew is an adrenaline junkie. He was tall enough to ride his first big roller coaster on our last visit. He rode it with his hands up and immediately demanded to "go again," which we did 3 times.
In September, we went to the beach for a few days. I was a little concerned because Andrew hates getting water in his face when we wash his hair. Apparently, that only applies when it's fresh water, salt water in the face elicits a laugh. He loved digging in the sand, running in the waves, and chasing any seagull that came within 10 yards of him.
This fall, we took our first camping trip. We decided to take Andrew to the Renaissance Festival in Plantersville and then camp out overnight. We had a great time at the Festival, we rode the elephant and the camel, went for a ride on the giant swing, and Andrew bounced on the bungee jump ("I want to go really, really high" -- that adrenaline junkie thing). Afterwards, we roasted hot dogs over the campfire for dinner and made s'mores. It was a great camping trip and one we intend to repeat next year.
Finally, we went to Michigan at Thanksgiving to visit Adam's brother David and his family. It was great seeing David, Kris, Davney, and Nixon. We had a great time with them at the Michigan v. Ohio State game and Andrew loved playing with his cousins. We miss them so much and wish they lived closer (hint, hint).
The end of the year finds us all in good health and happy, I don't think I could ask for anything more. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
The Holleys
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Random Things from Michigan
We went to Michigan last week for Thanksgiving. We drove. I know, I know. What were we thinking. But it was a great trip and we really loved seeing David, Kris, Davney and Nixon. I don't really have any stories to tell just a collection of random thoughts, quotes, snippets to share.
1. There is absolutely nothing in parts of Arkansas and all of Missouri which is why your child will choose that spot to announce he has to go potty "right now!"
2. Favorite quote "Uncle David, you stink. You need to take a bath."
3. Andrew has decided a highway flyover is similar to a roller coaster. So when we are going over one we throw our arms into the air and yell "Wheeeeeee!"
4. I am so thankful we do not have wood floors over a basement in our house. When your 3-year old runs over those types of floors it is really loud.
5. Least favorite moment, Andrew leaning over me at 4:30 in the morning and whispering "Mommy, I ready to get up now." Most mornings it happened at 5:30 but on the way home he was thrown off by the time change and it happened at 4:30....uuuugghh.
6. I am also thankful Andrew does not sleep with us. Not only do he and Adam hog the covers but he also is a bed hog.
7. Finally, I would like to add that 24 hours in a car with a 3-year old is not for the weak. In the future I will remember to pack Valium...for both of us.
1. There is absolutely nothing in parts of Arkansas and all of Missouri which is why your child will choose that spot to announce he has to go potty "right now!"
2. Favorite quote "Uncle David, you stink. You need to take a bath."
3. Andrew has decided a highway flyover is similar to a roller coaster. So when we are going over one we throw our arms into the air and yell "Wheeeeeee!"
4. I am so thankful we do not have wood floors over a basement in our house. When your 3-year old runs over those types of floors it is really loud.
5. Least favorite moment, Andrew leaning over me at 4:30 in the morning and whispering "Mommy, I ready to get up now." Most mornings it happened at 5:30 but on the way home he was thrown off by the time change and it happened at 4:30....uuuugghh.
6. I am also thankful Andrew does not sleep with us. Not only do he and Adam hog the covers but he also is a bed hog.
7. Finally, I would like to add that 24 hours in a car with a 3-year old is not for the weak. In the future I will remember to pack Valium...for both of us.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Did he really say that?
Kids say the darndest things. It's really true. There is this song by Basement Jaxx, the chorus of which is "Where's your head at? Where's your head at? Where's your head at?" Pretty simple right? Well, Andrew and I sing it pretty frequently and some times replace the words. For example, while getting dressed we sometimes sing "Where's your underwear?" Good harmless fun.
On Saturday, Andrew and I are sitting at a table at the Renaissance Faire waiting for Adam to return with food. There is a young man (about 25 years old) standing nearby. And my son starts singing the above song but with the words "tweaked." The guy looks at me and says "Did he just say what I think he said?" And I had to confirm that he did.
What was my precious baby boy singing, you ask.
"Where's your penis? Where's your penis? Where's your penis?"
Whoops!
On Saturday, Andrew and I are sitting at a table at the Renaissance Faire waiting for Adam to return with food. There is a young man (about 25 years old) standing nearby. And my son starts singing the above song but with the words "tweaked." The guy looks at me and says "Did he just say what I think he said?" And I had to confirm that he did.
What was my precious baby boy singing, you ask.
"Where's your penis? Where's your penis? Where's your penis?"
Whoops!
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Holleys Go Camping
So the Holley family went camping this weekend...for the first time. I should say that Adam and I have been camping once but we went with our friends Dan and Carrie who are experienced campers and, well, basically, they carried us. This time we were completely on our own and with a little boy in tow. Wow.
Because we were unable to find a single open campsite in any of our surrounding state parks, we decided to take Andrew to the Texas Renaissance Festival and camp out at the fair grounds on Saturday nite. I am not sure they should legally be able to call it a camp ground. There is no water, no electricity, no lights, no bathrooms (only portapotties), no nothing. They don't even have campsites marked out. You basically pull up and pitch your tent where ever you want.
So we pulled up about 10 in the morning and did just that. We pitched our tent under some big beautiful trees. We unloaded everything and then went into the Fair. We had a great time and then headed back out to our campsite about 5:30.
By 6:15 it was pitch black. Did I mention there are no lights on the campground? So now I am trying to get a meal prepared in the dark. We didn't think to bring a table so the only elevated surface I have to work on is the lid of the cooler. But hey, how much space do you need to roast hot dogs and marshmallows, right? Fortunately, I had packed some snack items (chips and bean dip anyone) and dinner turned out fine.
Then it was time for bed.
Hmmm...the campers next to us were playing Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train rather loudly and the campers behind us had apparently had a little bit to drink and found themselves very amusing. I mean really amusing. But things finally quieted down and we fell asleep...until the train came through. Oh yes dear reader, a train track runs 50 yards away from the campground and crosses several nearby roads. So it had to blow its horn, several times. And a train seem to come by every hour all nite long. And then there was the small airplane that circled the campground several times at a low altitude. Fortunately, once Andrew is asleep nothing wakes him up, the same does not apply to me or my lovely husband.
In addition, when Adam and I bought our tent we were just a 2-person family. And Andrew is an "active" sleeper." I had hoped to put him at our feet but the tent wasn't big enough. So, he had to sleep in between us. I have several unexplained bruises this morning and I am pretty sure he kicked me in the kidneys at least once.
Andrew woke up about 6 am this morning. I know your thinking "Ugh, 6 am? That sucks." Hey, at least it was light outside. We made and ate breakfast, broke camp, and were on the road by 7:40.
It may not have been the ideal camping experience but Andrew loved it and, well, at least it didn't rain. So we have started a list of things we need to take the next time, including a bigger tent and some really good earplugs.
Because we were unable to find a single open campsite in any of our surrounding state parks, we decided to take Andrew to the Texas Renaissance Festival and camp out at the fair grounds on Saturday nite. I am not sure they should legally be able to call it a camp ground. There is no water, no electricity, no lights, no bathrooms (only portapotties), no nothing. They don't even have campsites marked out. You basically pull up and pitch your tent where ever you want.
So we pulled up about 10 in the morning and did just that. We pitched our tent under some big beautiful trees. We unloaded everything and then went into the Fair. We had a great time and then headed back out to our campsite about 5:30.
By 6:15 it was pitch black. Did I mention there are no lights on the campground? So now I am trying to get a meal prepared in the dark. We didn't think to bring a table so the only elevated surface I have to work on is the lid of the cooler. But hey, how much space do you need to roast hot dogs and marshmallows, right? Fortunately, I had packed some snack items (chips and bean dip anyone) and dinner turned out fine.
Then it was time for bed.
Hmmm...the campers next to us were playing Ozzy Osbourne's Crazy Train rather loudly and the campers behind us had apparently had a little bit to drink and found themselves very amusing. I mean really amusing. But things finally quieted down and we fell asleep...until the train came through. Oh yes dear reader, a train track runs 50 yards away from the campground and crosses several nearby roads. So it had to blow its horn, several times. And a train seem to come by every hour all nite long. And then there was the small airplane that circled the campground several times at a low altitude. Fortunately, once Andrew is asleep nothing wakes him up, the same does not apply to me or my lovely husband.
In addition, when Adam and I bought our tent we were just a 2-person family. And Andrew is an "active" sleeper." I had hoped to put him at our feet but the tent wasn't big enough. So, he had to sleep in between us. I have several unexplained bruises this morning and I am pretty sure he kicked me in the kidneys at least once.
Andrew woke up about 6 am this morning. I know your thinking "Ugh, 6 am? That sucks." Hey, at least it was light outside. We made and ate breakfast, broke camp, and were on the road by 7:40.
It may not have been the ideal camping experience but Andrew loved it and, well, at least it didn't rain. So we have started a list of things we need to take the next time, including a bigger tent and some really good earplugs.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Try, Try Again
In case you didn't know, I have a sinus infection and bronchitis. When you combine those two things with the cough syrup I am drinking these days (which leaves me pretty woozy), I just can't muster the will to cook. So we decided to order take-out tonite. Actually, we placed an order for delivery not take out because I was in no condition to drive. But anyway, courtesy of my illness, I don't really have an appetite these days so I just ordered Spinach Artichoke Dip and Chips.
We ordered from California Pizza Kitchen. I generally like their food. It's not out of this world wonderful, but it's all good. Not the Spinach Artichoke Dip. I just did not like it.
I love spinach. I love artichokes. I love cheese. By all the laws of nature, I should love spinach artichoke dip. But it occurred to me as I was eating this spinach artichoke dip, that I didn't like, that I have never had a spinach artichoke dip that I liked. I have tried it over and over again at different restaurants and I have never liked it.
Perhaps it is not the recipe I don't like. Maybe I just don't like spinach artichoke dip...period?
No...that couldn't be it...could it?
We ordered from California Pizza Kitchen. I generally like their food. It's not out of this world wonderful, but it's all good. Not the Spinach Artichoke Dip. I just did not like it.
I love spinach. I love artichokes. I love cheese. By all the laws of nature, I should love spinach artichoke dip. But it occurred to me as I was eating this spinach artichoke dip, that I didn't like, that I have never had a spinach artichoke dip that I liked. I have tried it over and over again at different restaurants and I have never liked it.
Perhaps it is not the recipe I don't like. Maybe I just don't like spinach artichoke dip...period?
No...that couldn't be it...could it?
Sunday, October 18, 2009
The Sacred Orange Cookie
I think I have stated before that I am a superstitious (lots of vowels in that word!) person. What I didn't know is that all of my friends are too. In case you didn't know it (and I would be shocked if you didn't), Texas played OU yesterday in the Red River Rivalry. Its a huge game every year that takes place in Dallas at the Cotton Bowl. Very big deal in the college football world. And every year we gather with friends to watch the game.
This year was no different. Us Longhorns are hoping to make it to the national championship this year and so every game is important. Apparently, that has brought out the superstitious side in all of us.
Phil always wears a white shirt to our games. Well he showed up yesterday in a burnt orange shirt but announced that he had a white shirt in the car. The first half did not go well (Texas 3, OU 6). Phil changed shirts during halftime.
Then during the 3rd quarter, Staci asked someone to hand her one of the orange cookies (afterwards referred to as the sacred orange cookie). While Staci was eating the sacred orange cookie, Texas scored its first touchdown of the game. It was clear to everyone present that, in order for Texas to score, Staci needed to be eating one of the sacred orange cookies. Poor Staci was forced to eat (or at least lick) a sacred orange cookie during every Texas possession for the remainder of the game.
I hope Staci doesn't want to lose any weight because there are 6 games left in Texas' regular season. That's a lot of possessions and a lot of sacred orange cookies.
This year was no different. Us Longhorns are hoping to make it to the national championship this year and so every game is important. Apparently, that has brought out the superstitious side in all of us.
Phil always wears a white shirt to our games. Well he showed up yesterday in a burnt orange shirt but announced that he had a white shirt in the car. The first half did not go well (Texas 3, OU 6). Phil changed shirts during halftime.
Then during the 3rd quarter, Staci asked someone to hand her one of the orange cookies (afterwards referred to as the sacred orange cookie). While Staci was eating the sacred orange cookie, Texas scored its first touchdown of the game. It was clear to everyone present that, in order for Texas to score, Staci needed to be eating one of the sacred orange cookies. Poor Staci was forced to eat (or at least lick) a sacred orange cookie during every Texas possession for the remainder of the game.
I hope Staci doesn't want to lose any weight because there are 6 games left in Texas' regular season. That's a lot of possessions and a lot of sacred orange cookies.
Monday, October 5, 2009
It Feels Like Fall!
Actually, it doesn't but I have deluded myself into believing that it does. I love fall. The sound of football on t.v. The appearance of Oktoberfest beer in the grocery store. The colors of the changing leaves and the cool, crisp air. Ok, I made those last two up. I live in Texas. The leaves do change color, but the color is brown and that's when they fall off the trees. And we won't have cool, crisp air until sometime in November. Admittedly, we had a freak weather event this year and on the first day of fall, we didn't get out of the 60's. But that is only the second time in recorded history the temperature has been that low on the first day of fall (and I didn't make that up).
However, despite the fact that it is still 90 degrees outside, the calendar says it is fall and I am adjusting my life accordingly! I have shifted my menu to fall/cool weather foods. We are gobbling up the warming soups and hot toasty casseroles. I have been waiting all summer to make some comforting shepherd's pie and I am not going to let something like the thermometer stop me!
I have placed pumpkins and gourds on every flat surface. I am a complete sucker for miniature pumpkins and cute decorative gourds. I see them in the store and though I try to resist, I end up buying them. And I will continue to buy them until they no longer carry them. You know, cute little gourds aren't just for Halloween, they work for Thanksgiving too!
I bought hot chocolate today and I just can't wait to light a fire. Lighting the fire involves Adam's participation and, since he thinks I am crazy, that might not happen until it actually gets cool outside. Don't you just hate those people who won't join in your delusions? Well whether he embraces my delusions or not, he is getting chili (perfect for those cold days) for dinner tonite.
So to my family and friends up north, I say hello! I am doing my part, along with you, to welcome fall, even if I am wearing shorts and a tank top.
However, despite the fact that it is still 90 degrees outside, the calendar says it is fall and I am adjusting my life accordingly! I have shifted my menu to fall/cool weather foods. We are gobbling up the warming soups and hot toasty casseroles. I have been waiting all summer to make some comforting shepherd's pie and I am not going to let something like the thermometer stop me!
I have placed pumpkins and gourds on every flat surface. I am a complete sucker for miniature pumpkins and cute decorative gourds. I see them in the store and though I try to resist, I end up buying them. And I will continue to buy them until they no longer carry them. You know, cute little gourds aren't just for Halloween, they work for Thanksgiving too!
I bought hot chocolate today and I just can't wait to light a fire. Lighting the fire involves Adam's participation and, since he thinks I am crazy, that might not happen until it actually gets cool outside. Don't you just hate those people who won't join in your delusions? Well whether he embraces my delusions or not, he is getting chili (perfect for those cold days) for dinner tonite.
So to my family and friends up north, I say hello! I am doing my part, along with you, to welcome fall, even if I am wearing shorts and a tank top.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Losing the War
You have heard the phrase "winning the battle, but losing the war" right? I never really got that phrase...until today.
I am being over run by ants. They are everywhere. I have been bit so many damn times I don't have a clear spot on my feet. Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but seriously I have been bitten by ants 4 times in the past two weeks. I haven't been bitten by an ant in years and now 4 times in 2 weeks? I think they are out to get me.
It all started out in the garden. I was admiring the lovely cantaloupe growing in my garden, minding my own business, when I became aware my feet were covered in ants. I got about 10 bites before I got them all off. Apparently they wanted to play rough. Well "Game On!" I say.
So I grabbed my Amdro and Terro ant poisons and bombed the heck out of their mound. "Take that you little ankle biters!" I thought to myself, maybe even muttered under my breath. Little did I know this was only the opening salvo.
I next found ants in my pantry and on the floor behind the couch (at least there is food in the pantry, I have no idea what they were after behind the couch). Not only had the ants launched a two-prong assault, but they had moved the battle deep into my own territory. I had to call in reinforcements, namely Adam (hereinafter referred to as "my big guns"). So while I put Terro and Amdro down in my pantry and in the corner behind the couch (both sealed off so the child and the dog could not get to them), my big guns launched an offensive. He sprayed the base of the our slab on the outside and treated the four (four!!!) mounds he found.
Within a day we had the enemy on the run, ok the ants were actually just moving the poison to their mounds, but you know what I mean. By the next day, we were able to pick up the poison. I felt confident we had defeated the ants. Little did I know that my enemy was simply regrouping.
This afternoon, I walked into the kitchen and noticed a long line of ants moving between the back door and the kitchen trash can (baby boy had dropped some crumbs while throwing away his muffin). The enemy was back in force! As I began blasting ants with the bottom of my shoe, I finally admitted the truth. I cannot win. I may be bigger and smarter, but they outnumber me (by a billion to one). Their diabolical queen will just keep throwing bodies at me. I may win every battle, but I can never win the war.
I am being over run by ants. They are everywhere. I have been bit so many damn times I don't have a clear spot on my feet. Ok, that's a bit of an exaggeration, but seriously I have been bitten by ants 4 times in the past two weeks. I haven't been bitten by an ant in years and now 4 times in 2 weeks? I think they are out to get me.
It all started out in the garden. I was admiring the lovely cantaloupe growing in my garden, minding my own business, when I became aware my feet were covered in ants. I got about 10 bites before I got them all off. Apparently they wanted to play rough. Well "Game On!" I say.
So I grabbed my Amdro and Terro ant poisons and bombed the heck out of their mound. "Take that you little ankle biters!" I thought to myself, maybe even muttered under my breath. Little did I know this was only the opening salvo.
I next found ants in my pantry and on the floor behind the couch (at least there is food in the pantry, I have no idea what they were after behind the couch). Not only had the ants launched a two-prong assault, but they had moved the battle deep into my own territory. I had to call in reinforcements, namely Adam (hereinafter referred to as "my big guns"). So while I put Terro and Amdro down in my pantry and in the corner behind the couch (both sealed off so the child and the dog could not get to them), my big guns launched an offensive. He sprayed the base of the our slab on the outside and treated the four (four!!!) mounds he found.
Within a day we had the enemy on the run, ok the ants were actually just moving the poison to their mounds, but you know what I mean. By the next day, we were able to pick up the poison. I felt confident we had defeated the ants. Little did I know that my enemy was simply regrouping.
This afternoon, I walked into the kitchen and noticed a long line of ants moving between the back door and the kitchen trash can (baby boy had dropped some crumbs while throwing away his muffin). The enemy was back in force! As I began blasting ants with the bottom of my shoe, I finally admitted the truth. I cannot win. I may be bigger and smarter, but they outnumber me (by a billion to one). Their diabolical queen will just keep throwing bodies at me. I may win every battle, but I can never win the war.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
The Monkey v. The Girl
As I told Adam this morning, I had a busy day planned. So, after sending the boys off to work/school this morning, I hopped into my car and set off. I stopped at Randall's to pick up a few things, the first of my six planned stops today. Go in, pick up the 2 things I needed and bop on back out to the car. Get in my lovely little car, turn the key and hear "whir, whir" and nothing else. "Well, that doesn't sound good" I think to myself. "Perhaps, I just need to try it again and it will work." Whir, whir. Seriously? I have a full day planned and I am stuck at my first stop? You have got to be kidding me.
So, I whip out my cell phone (handy little things) and call Adam. I explain to him that the car won't stop, it just goes "whir" and I am stuck at Randalls. And my dear husband says he will be right there. While I wait for Adam, I go ahead and call my car dealer (where I have an extended warranty) and get the phone number for the towing service they use. It is obvious that something is really wrong with my car (otherwise I would be headed to my next stop) and I am going to have to have it towed to the shop. My entire day is shot.
About 15 minutes later, Adam pulls into the parking space next to my car which, fortuitously, was unoccupied. He goes around to the tool box and pulls out his jumper cables. I, knowing it can be something as simple as the battery, say "I think it's the starter. Don't you even want to hear it." To humor me, I think, Adam agrees. So I turn the key and the car goes "whir whir." "It's the battery," says Adam. "How could you possibly know that?" I ask. And this is where I find out that I probably know less about cars than a monkey. "Because, my husband replies, if it was the starter it would go click click. Any other sound and it's probably the battery."
Oh. I mean, how many of you girls out there knew that? I consider myself a reasonably intelligent and well-educated woman. But when it comes to all things car-related, I know less than a trained monkey. I absolutely dread taking the car into get the oil changed because every time I do, I run the risk of getting monetarily screwed. They could say to me "You need to have your cam rotors realigned" and I would say ok, not knowing that my car doesn't even have cam rotors (admittedly I made that part up, I don't know if there is such a thing as a cam rotor). But you can see the danger. I was already to spend who knows how much today getting my car towed to the dealer and the starter replaced when all it needed was a jump and Adam to replace the battery.
So, any parents of young children out there reading this post, make sure someone teaches your daughter the basics when it comes to a car. They really should know more about it than a trained monkey or at least more than I do.
And by the way, Adam was right. It just needs a new battery. Imagine that.
So, I whip out my cell phone (handy little things) and call Adam. I explain to him that the car won't stop, it just goes "whir" and I am stuck at Randalls. And my dear husband says he will be right there. While I wait for Adam, I go ahead and call my car dealer (where I have an extended warranty) and get the phone number for the towing service they use. It is obvious that something is really wrong with my car (otherwise I would be headed to my next stop) and I am going to have to have it towed to the shop. My entire day is shot.
About 15 minutes later, Adam pulls into the parking space next to my car which, fortuitously, was unoccupied. He goes around to the tool box and pulls out his jumper cables. I, knowing it can be something as simple as the battery, say "I think it's the starter. Don't you even want to hear it." To humor me, I think, Adam agrees. So I turn the key and the car goes "whir whir." "It's the battery," says Adam. "How could you possibly know that?" I ask. And this is where I find out that I probably know less about cars than a monkey. "Because, my husband replies, if it was the starter it would go click click. Any other sound and it's probably the battery."
Oh. I mean, how many of you girls out there knew that? I consider myself a reasonably intelligent and well-educated woman. But when it comes to all things car-related, I know less than a trained monkey. I absolutely dread taking the car into get the oil changed because every time I do, I run the risk of getting monetarily screwed. They could say to me "You need to have your cam rotors realigned" and I would say ok, not knowing that my car doesn't even have cam rotors (admittedly I made that part up, I don't know if there is such a thing as a cam rotor). But you can see the danger. I was already to spend who knows how much today getting my car towed to the dealer and the starter replaced when all it needed was a jump and Adam to replace the battery.
So, any parents of young children out there reading this post, make sure someone teaches your daughter the basics when it comes to a car. They really should know more about it than a trained monkey or at least more than I do.
And by the way, Adam was right. It just needs a new battery. Imagine that.
Monday, August 10, 2009
HWIC
As anyone who knows me well can tell you, I am a worrier. I love to worry about stuff. In fact, Adam says I am not happy unless I have something to worry about. And, if I don't have anything to worry about, I will invent something. I don't know how true that is but I can tell you that I come by it naturally.
I suspect I come from a long line of worriers. I have never met anyone who can worry like my father. I am not sure Dad worries as much as I do but when he does worry about something he does it wholeheartedly. I have never seen someone get so worked up as my Dad when he's worried about something.
The birth of Andrew opened whole new worrying vistas in my life. Actually, I think when it comes to him, I control myself pretty well. I do not, in general, over-react and worry about every little bump and scrape. I would be a wreck if I did. In fact, Andrew hit his head at school one day, giving my precious baby a black eye, and his teacher remarked that as long as all of his limbs were still attached, she didn't think we would get excited. I was proud of that remark. Clearly, when it comes to Andrew, I have my worrying firmly in hand.
At least I thought I did, until last Friday. Last Monday, Andrew fell and hit his knee on the bed frame. He whacked it pretty hard and gave himself a nice big bruise. On Wednesday, he complained a couple of times that his leg hurt. Since he was grabbing the knee that he whacked, I didn't pay much attention. He complained about it again on Thursday and, finally, on Friday, after his nap, when he complained about it again and refused to walk, I decided to check it out.
So I sat him down and started poking his kneecap. "No Mommy he says, it hurts here" and grabs the back of his leg, just behind the knee. So I put my hand behind his leg and feel the biggest lump I have ever felt. The lump was the size of a grapefruit. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, it was more like the size of a really small grape. But, still, it was huge and hard. That's when my little worry gene roared into high gear. Clearly, my precious baby had a tumor! It was as obvious as the nose on my face. I immediately called the doctor and scheduled an appointment, then called Adam and informed him Andrew had a huge lump on the back of his leg and he needed to come home RIGHT NOW!
So we rush Andrew to the doctor, in five o'clock traffic (ick). The whole way there I am almost sick with worry. It is all my fault. He had been telling me for days that his leg hurt and I had been ignoring him. I am an awful mother. MY POOR BABY!
Yeah. "It's just some fluid, probably from when he hit his knee" says the doctor. When I was obviously relieved, she asked what I thought it was. I, somewhat embarrassed, admitted I thought it was a tumor. God bless her, she didn't laugh at me, just explained to me why it wasn't a tumor.
Ten minutes after leaving the doctor's office, my baby (you know, the one who couldn't walk on his leg after his nap) is crawling all over the playscape at Central Market where we stopped for dinner. So much for his tumor!
And I realized, despite what I thought, I am clearly, still, the Head Worrier in Charge!
I suspect I come from a long line of worriers. I have never met anyone who can worry like my father. I am not sure Dad worries as much as I do but when he does worry about something he does it wholeheartedly. I have never seen someone get so worked up as my Dad when he's worried about something.
The birth of Andrew opened whole new worrying vistas in my life. Actually, I think when it comes to him, I control myself pretty well. I do not, in general, over-react and worry about every little bump and scrape. I would be a wreck if I did. In fact, Andrew hit his head at school one day, giving my precious baby a black eye, and his teacher remarked that as long as all of his limbs were still attached, she didn't think we would get excited. I was proud of that remark. Clearly, when it comes to Andrew, I have my worrying firmly in hand.
At least I thought I did, until last Friday. Last Monday, Andrew fell and hit his knee on the bed frame. He whacked it pretty hard and gave himself a nice big bruise. On Wednesday, he complained a couple of times that his leg hurt. Since he was grabbing the knee that he whacked, I didn't pay much attention. He complained about it again on Thursday and, finally, on Friday, after his nap, when he complained about it again and refused to walk, I decided to check it out.
So I sat him down and started poking his kneecap. "No Mommy he says, it hurts here" and grabs the back of his leg, just behind the knee. So I put my hand behind his leg and feel the biggest lump I have ever felt. The lump was the size of a grapefruit. Ok, that may be a bit of an exaggeration, it was more like the size of a really small grape. But, still, it was huge and hard. That's when my little worry gene roared into high gear. Clearly, my precious baby had a tumor! It was as obvious as the nose on my face. I immediately called the doctor and scheduled an appointment, then called Adam and informed him Andrew had a huge lump on the back of his leg and he needed to come home RIGHT NOW!
So we rush Andrew to the doctor, in five o'clock traffic (ick). The whole way there I am almost sick with worry. It is all my fault. He had been telling me for days that his leg hurt and I had been ignoring him. I am an awful mother. MY POOR BABY!
Yeah. "It's just some fluid, probably from when he hit his knee" says the doctor. When I was obviously relieved, she asked what I thought it was. I, somewhat embarrassed, admitted I thought it was a tumor. God bless her, she didn't laugh at me, just explained to me why it wasn't a tumor.
Ten minutes after leaving the doctor's office, my baby (you know, the one who couldn't walk on his leg after his nap) is crawling all over the playscape at Central Market where we stopped for dinner. So much for his tumor!
And I realized, despite what I thought, I am clearly, still, the Head Worrier in Charge!
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Just call me a geek!
As my husband will tell you, I am something of a technophobe. Actually, I pretty much hate new technology and every time we get something new I wail and moan because I have to learn something new. For example, he wants to get a programmable remote for the t.v. I hate the idea. I just figured out the one we already have, why would I want to learn a new one. Have you ever seen the movie "I Robot?" Technology baaaad.
Well, recently, actually about 3 months ago, the battery in my laptop started going bad. In fact, it started going real bad. Unplugged, it only worked for about 7-8 minutes before it crashed. About that time, I discovered that I can not live without a laptop. I check e-mail, research my weekly meals, and write this blog from my laptop (among many other things). I needed a new laptop. ("Need? my husband asked. I thought you didn't like technology." Uncomfortable conversation. I was about to eat crow.)
So after a little research, we went last night and bought me a new laptop. Lightweight, small (smaller than a sheet of paper), and pink! I LOVE IT! Bring it home. I was humming with glee. Plug it in. I can barely stand it. Turn it on and.....nothing. It's is defective and won't turn on. DISAPPOINTED! (Have you seen the movie "A Fish Called Wanda?" Kevin Kline's character opens a briefcase he believes is full of money and it's empty and he yells "Disappointed!" He says it so perfectly that it really conveys the meaning of the word. It's how I always say/hear that word.) So I package it back up and this morning Tiger and I go to Fry's to exchange it. Come back home, open it up and plug it in and...it works! And I love it!
It is so small and lightweight. Technology is a wonderful thing. I love technology. In fact, I think I need an Iphone!
Well, recently, actually about 3 months ago, the battery in my laptop started going bad. In fact, it started going real bad. Unplugged, it only worked for about 7-8 minutes before it crashed. About that time, I discovered that I can not live without a laptop. I check e-mail, research my weekly meals, and write this blog from my laptop (among many other things). I needed a new laptop. ("Need? my husband asked. I thought you didn't like technology." Uncomfortable conversation. I was about to eat crow.)
So after a little research, we went last night and bought me a new laptop. Lightweight, small (smaller than a sheet of paper), and pink! I LOVE IT! Bring it home. I was humming with glee. Plug it in. I can barely stand it. Turn it on and.....nothing. It's is defective and won't turn on. DISAPPOINTED! (Have you seen the movie "A Fish Called Wanda?" Kevin Kline's character opens a briefcase he believes is full of money and it's empty and he yells "Disappointed!" He says it so perfectly that it really conveys the meaning of the word. It's how I always say/hear that word.) So I package it back up and this morning Tiger and I go to Fry's to exchange it. Come back home, open it up and plug it in and...it works! And I love it!
It is so small and lightweight. Technology is a wonderful thing. I love technology. In fact, I think I need an Iphone!
Sunday, July 26, 2009
The First Step
We have all heard the saying "The first step is admitting you have a problem." Well people I have a problem. Most of the time I can keep my little addiction in check. But I always find this time of year particularly challenging. The thing I am addicted to is everywhere, it is flaunted in ads on t.v. and featured in every print ad. There are few stores I can walk into where the items are not prominently displayed or pushed at the counter. What the heck am I talking about you ask.
School supplies. Yes, I am addicted to school supplies. I love the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil, the feel of a new ruler, the possibility contained in a brand new, never used spiral bound notebook. Other kids were excited to go back to school because they got to see their friends or got to buy new clothes, I was excited by the thought of purchasing school supplies.
And the fact that I no longer need them has not diminished my desire for them. And they are everywhere. I can not walk through my local grocery store without passing them. And the choices, the endless choices. Pencils: plain old number 2 or mechanical. Spiral bound notebooks: solid color or printed cover, wide ruled or college ruled. Rulers: plastic, metal or old school wooden. I salivate just thinking about the choices. The other day, I bought a 10 pack of pencils (plain old number 2). I did not need them but I could not help myself. They were calling my name and they were only 50 cents a pack.
So there, now you know my secret. I am addicted to school supplies. My only hope lies in my child. In a couple of years he will be heading off to school and then I get to pick out his school supplies. Yes!
School supplies. Yes, I am addicted to school supplies. I love the smell of a freshly sharpened pencil, the feel of a new ruler, the possibility contained in a brand new, never used spiral bound notebook. Other kids were excited to go back to school because they got to see their friends or got to buy new clothes, I was excited by the thought of purchasing school supplies.
And the fact that I no longer need them has not diminished my desire for them. And they are everywhere. I can not walk through my local grocery store without passing them. And the choices, the endless choices. Pencils: plain old number 2 or mechanical. Spiral bound notebooks: solid color or printed cover, wide ruled or college ruled. Rulers: plastic, metal or old school wooden. I salivate just thinking about the choices. The other day, I bought a 10 pack of pencils (plain old number 2). I did not need them but I could not help myself. They were calling my name and they were only 50 cents a pack.
So there, now you know my secret. I am addicted to school supplies. My only hope lies in my child. In a couple of years he will be heading off to school and then I get to pick out his school supplies. Yes!
Sunday, June 7, 2009
An Answer to the Question Why
As I wrote a couple of weeks ago, Andrew has discovered the word why and, quite frankly, he was driving me nuts. Every statement was met with "Why?" You would answer the question and he would just ask why again. Over and over again.
Well the other night at dinner, my brilliant husband figured out how to stop the whys. It's quite simple. The answer to the question why must be long and, preferably, contain some really big words.
That evening, as we were eating dinner one of us mentioned the sunlight. So Andrew starts looking out the window at the sun. Adam told him to stop looking at the sun and get back in his seat. Andrew, of course, asked "Why?". Adam responded it was bad for your eyes. Andrew again asked why. And Adam offers the following explanation:
Because the sun emits photons and ultraviolet rays and when you look at the sun the photons and ultraviolet rays enter your eye through the iris and bounce off the back of your eye and can burn your retina.
Andrew sat there for about 5 seconds and then said, in a knowing tone, "Oooooooooooh. Okay." And continued eating dinner.
Did I mention that the answer to the question why could be complete bullshit?
Well the other night at dinner, my brilliant husband figured out how to stop the whys. It's quite simple. The answer to the question why must be long and, preferably, contain some really big words.
That evening, as we were eating dinner one of us mentioned the sunlight. So Andrew starts looking out the window at the sun. Adam told him to stop looking at the sun and get back in his seat. Andrew, of course, asked "Why?". Adam responded it was bad for your eyes. Andrew again asked why. And Adam offers the following explanation:
Because the sun emits photons and ultraviolet rays and when you look at the sun the photons and ultraviolet rays enter your eye through the iris and bounce off the back of your eye and can burn your retina.
Andrew sat there for about 5 seconds and then said, in a knowing tone, "Oooooooooooh. Okay." And continued eating dinner.
Did I mention that the answer to the question why could be complete bullshit?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
My Heathen Child No More
Yesterday, we had Andrew baptized...finally. It took us 3 years but we finally got it done and what an experience it was. Allow me to explain. I am Catholic, Adam is not. Having Andrew baptized in the Catholic Church would have meant attending a series of classes, something my husband was not going to do. I am cool with that. But then how do we get Andrew baptized? It took me a while, but I finally figured it out. Our friend Jeff has a childhood friend who is a Lutheran minister and he was willing to baptize Andrew for us. Hallelujah!
So yesterday, we went to a local church to baptize Andrew. As my mother remarked, "There is a reason children are baptized when they are 2 months old." Yes, there is. It was chaos.
Let me set the scene. We are in the sanctuary of a very nice church. My parents and Adam's parents are there. Our best friends, Jeff and Cheryl and there 3-year old son, Tanner, are there. The minister, Eric is there along with his wife and 3-year old son, Ford. Now if you are paying attention you will have noted that there are three 3-year old boys in the same room. That is not a prescription for orderly and quiet.
During the first part of the service, Andrew's participation wasn't really needed so we let him play with the two other boys (in the chair, out of the chair, up the aisle, down the aisle). But then we got to the actual baptism part and Andrew was definitely needed. So Adam drags Andrew out from under the chair and carries him to the baptismal font. At that moment my adorable son starts screaming at the top of his lungs "I no want any water! No water! I no want water!" and struggling to get out of Adam's arm. Eric finally manages to get some water on Andrew's head. I was praying Andrew wouldn't start screaming "It burns! It burns!"
Then Jeff lights the ceremonial candle and brings it over to Adam and I. Andrew has been to plenty of birthday parties lately and knows just what to do with candles so he takes and big breath and blows. Adam just manages to get his hand in front of Andrew's mouth. Three times Andrew tries to blow out the candle.
Then we get to the part where Eric annoints Andrew with oil. Andrew screams "NO!" and buries his head in Adam's shoulder. God bless Eric, he remained calm, stepped around behind Adam and marked Andrew's forehead. It was a good thing he has a 3-year old son and knew what to expect.
So finally the ceremony ends and we all went off for dinner. I can only be glad that there were a limited number of witnesses and all of them were laughing.
As my mother said "There's a reason children are baptized when they are 2 month old." Because it is utter chaos if you wait until they are three.
So yesterday, we went to a local church to baptize Andrew. As my mother remarked, "There is a reason children are baptized when they are 2 months old." Yes, there is. It was chaos.
Let me set the scene. We are in the sanctuary of a very nice church. My parents and Adam's parents are there. Our best friends, Jeff and Cheryl and there 3-year old son, Tanner, are there. The minister, Eric is there along with his wife and 3-year old son, Ford. Now if you are paying attention you will have noted that there are three 3-year old boys in the same room. That is not a prescription for orderly and quiet.
During the first part of the service, Andrew's participation wasn't really needed so we let him play with the two other boys (in the chair, out of the chair, up the aisle, down the aisle). But then we got to the actual baptism part and Andrew was definitely needed. So Adam drags Andrew out from under the chair and carries him to the baptismal font. At that moment my adorable son starts screaming at the top of his lungs "I no want any water! No water! I no want water!" and struggling to get out of Adam's arm. Eric finally manages to get some water on Andrew's head. I was praying Andrew wouldn't start screaming "It burns! It burns!"
Then Jeff lights the ceremonial candle and brings it over to Adam and I. Andrew has been to plenty of birthday parties lately and knows just what to do with candles so he takes and big breath and blows. Adam just manages to get his hand in front of Andrew's mouth. Three times Andrew tries to blow out the candle.
Then we get to the part where Eric annoints Andrew with oil. Andrew screams "NO!" and buries his head in Adam's shoulder. God bless Eric, he remained calm, stepped around behind Adam and marked Andrew's forehead. It was a good thing he has a 3-year old son and knew what to expect.
So finally the ceremony ends and we all went off for dinner. I can only be glad that there were a limited number of witnesses and all of them were laughing.
As my mother said "There's a reason children are baptized when they are 2 month old." Because it is utter chaos if you wait until they are three.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Why Me?
It happens in every parent's life, so I can't say I didn't know it was coming. I was just unprepared for it's arrival. And when it finally happened to me...well, you'll see. So what am I babbling on about. I am talking about my child discovering the power of the word "Why."
Yes, "why" has become Andrew's favorite new word. He uses it every time you tell him to do something and, I swear, my head is going to explode soon. You all know what I am talking about. If you are a parent, you have had first hand experience. If you are not a parent, I am sure you have seen a movie with a little kid who constantly asks why. Seriously, it is driving me bonkers. Witness the following exchange:
Me: Andrew, get your shoes on.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we are going to the grocery store.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need to buy groceries.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need food to eat or we will get hungry.
Andrew: Why? (Are you kidding me, this is the kid who whines if dinner isn't ready when he walks in the door from school)
Me: Because food makes our bodies go.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Get your ass in the car or so help me I am going to beat you!
Andrew: Why?
and BOOOM! my head explodes.
Yes, "why" has become Andrew's favorite new word. He uses it every time you tell him to do something and, I swear, my head is going to explode soon. You all know what I am talking about. If you are a parent, you have had first hand experience. If you are not a parent, I am sure you have seen a movie with a little kid who constantly asks why. Seriously, it is driving me bonkers. Witness the following exchange:
Me: Andrew, get your shoes on.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we are going to the grocery store.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need to buy groceries.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Because we need food to eat or we will get hungry.
Andrew: Why? (Are you kidding me, this is the kid who whines if dinner isn't ready when he walks in the door from school)
Me: Because food makes our bodies go.
Andrew: Why?
Me: Get your ass in the car or so help me I am going to beat you!
Andrew: Why?
and BOOOM! my head explodes.
Monday, April 20, 2009
We are Family
When I was growing up, we spent every other weekend and many major holidays at my grandparents' farm. Grandma and Grandpa had five kids (one of whom is my father) and 13 grandkids. Eight of us were close in age. In fact, 6 of us are separated by 6 years, with approximately a year between us. My cousins (Rob, Scott, Chris, Deanise, Nicki and Vicki) were also frequently at the farm. As a result, I have many fond memories of weekends spent with my cousins. We pretty much had free run of the farm. I can remember mud fights, rides on the tractor, hours spent playing in the barn, and terrorizing the resident wild animals with our BB guns. I don't think anything was ever wounded (except for Scott), but we sure shot at a lot of things.
However, since Grandma passed away in 2000, I have seen my family less and less. In fact, I haven't seen some of my cousins since before Andrew was born. I have been harassing various people about having a family reunion for quite awhile but with no success. Well, I managed to get them all in the same room at the same time after my brother's wedding and insisted that we needed a get together. The combined authority of Aunt JoAnn and Aunt Patsy was too much and we picked a day for a family reunion. It just so happened to be this past Saturday.
So on Saturday, we all trekked down to the farm. Now, in case you don't live in Texas, we had quite a bit of rain this past weekend. In fact, they got over 7 inches at the farm between Friday morning and Saturday morning. It was incredibly muddy down home. We had a great time.
As is required at all family reunions, there was more food than we could possibly eat. The kids crawled all over the hay in the barn. Scott, Chris and I discussed the merits of square bales over round bales (square bales are much more movable and perfect for building forts). I got to talk to all of my cousins and see their kids (2 of whom I was meeting for the first time). There were rides on the gator and four-wheeler and, once the soon came out, a hay ride. There was also playing in the mud.
I have often been saddened by the fact that Andrew's cousins live in Ann Arbor and that he will not have the wonderful memories of family that I have. But for a brief time this weekend, Andrew got to experience some of my childhood memories (including being helped up the hay by his second cousin Brian while Brian refused to help his own brother Matthew--boy does that sound familiar).
Everything at the family reunion may have been coated in mud and slightly damp, but it was absolutely perfect.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Ch-ch-ch-ch-change....
It's funny how a single event (or series of events) can lead to multiple changes in our lives. Last week, for example, had led to a few big changes in my life. In case I haven't spoken to you recently, last week was a pretty crappy week and that is putting it mildly. My mother was sick the beginning part of the week and then, Wednesday night, I came down with a really nasty gastro-intestinal virus and ended up in the emergency room, after passing out twice, hooked up to an IV because I was dehydrated (I think Adam was little freaked out by the passing out). It was not a good week. And then I worked all weekend (when I probably should have been at home). Those events have led to 3 changes in my life, some bigger than others.
First, I have a new, deep appreciation for water and seem to constantly be thirsty. I am drinking way more water now than I did before the illness. I don't know if this is a lingering effect of the dehydration or simply something wrong with my head (keep your comments to yourself), but I seem to be thirsty all of the time. I probably didn't drink enough water before so this is a good thing.
Second, I lost about 6-7 pounds in 24 hours. While I would never recommend a gastro-intestinal virus as part of a weight loss program, it worked for me (I could probably bottle it and sell it to models/actresses...hmmmm). I decided to take advantage of the sudden and unexpected weight loss and began a diet/exercise program. I am using the Wii Fit program (so much fun) and watching what I eat. We will see how it goes.
And finally, I decided to quit my job. Trying to juggle a job, care for my family (and myself), and not put too much stress on Adam was too much. When I quit my career 2 years ago, it was because I wanted to spend more time with my family and be there to take care of them. Last week, after being at the hospital with my mom for part of the week, being in the hospital myself, and Adam having to miss work 3 days in a row to take care of Andrew and me, I then had to work all weekend. Instead of taking it easy over the weekend and giving Adam a little down time (and time to catch up on work), I was at a job that I don't really need. I suddenly remembered that my family is the most important thing in my life. Clearly, it was time to realign my priorities. And so I did.
So beware the next time you catch a stomach virus, it could lead to more changes than you ever anticipated.
First, I have a new, deep appreciation for water and seem to constantly be thirsty. I am drinking way more water now than I did before the illness. I don't know if this is a lingering effect of the dehydration or simply something wrong with my head (keep your comments to yourself), but I seem to be thirsty all of the time. I probably didn't drink enough water before so this is a good thing.
Second, I lost about 6-7 pounds in 24 hours. While I would never recommend a gastro-intestinal virus as part of a weight loss program, it worked for me (I could probably bottle it and sell it to models/actresses...hmmmm). I decided to take advantage of the sudden and unexpected weight loss and began a diet/exercise program. I am using the Wii Fit program (so much fun) and watching what I eat. We will see how it goes.
And finally, I decided to quit my job. Trying to juggle a job, care for my family (and myself), and not put too much stress on Adam was too much. When I quit my career 2 years ago, it was because I wanted to spend more time with my family and be there to take care of them. Last week, after being at the hospital with my mom for part of the week, being in the hospital myself, and Adam having to miss work 3 days in a row to take care of Andrew and me, I then had to work all weekend. Instead of taking it easy over the weekend and giving Adam a little down time (and time to catch up on work), I was at a job that I don't really need. I suddenly remembered that my family is the most important thing in my life. Clearly, it was time to realign my priorities. And so I did.
So beware the next time you catch a stomach virus, it could lead to more changes than you ever anticipated.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
The Zoo through the Eyes of a 3 year old
Yesterday, we took Andrew to the San Antonio Zoo for his 3rd birthday. I love the zoo and I was so excited. San Antonio is about 1 and 1/2 hours from our house and the zoo opens at 9:00 so we left at 7:00 am. Bright and happy we set off for the zoo, singing "We're going to the zoo, zoo, zoo" by Raffi and talking about the animals we would see. Then we got stuck in traffic and missed the exit and it ended up taking us 2 and 1/2 hours to get there. Did I mention Andrew whined for the last hour of the drive about how he wanted out of his seat or he wanted to go back home? Forget waterboarding, if you want a confession from someone just lock them in a small space with a whiny 3-year old for an hour. I would have admitted to any number of sins just to get out of that car.
So we finally get to the zoo, hop out of the car and notice all of the school buses there from a local junior high. That's right, a bunch of hormonal 7 and 8th graders with bad attitudes and, if you ask me, even worse taste in clothes. So we hung out in the gift shop for a few minutes to let the school kids move on.
Finally, we get to the first animal exhibit and it's a bear! So exciting! "Andrew look at the bear! Do you see the bear??!!" Andrew then says back, somewhat excitedly, "Mommy, poo! Poo poo in there! Need to clean up." Poo? Seriously? Yes, upon seeing a live bear, my child commented on the excrement in the space. I mean, the bear is cool and all, but will you look at all of that poo.
This became a recurring theme for the remainder of the trip. "Look at the elephant Andrew!" "Daddy, poo poo in there. Need to clean up." "Andrew, do you see the rhino?" "Look poo poo. Need to clean up." Andrew pointed out the poo in almost every exhibit we saw. The only ones where he didn't talk about it were the ones where the poo was not visible (such as the butterfly exhibit).
However, we did see some lovely butterflies and Andrew found the monkeys very entertaining. The zoo has a large, walk-in bird cage full of lorikeets (a small type of parrot). So we bought some bird food for the lories and walk into the cage. I set the container of food down on a ledge and then showed Andrew how you can stroke the birds feathers. So Andrew goes to touch one of the birds and Adam says "Be gentle Andrew or they might bite you." At which point Andrew jumps back and refuses to come within 3 feet of a bird. Oh well.
All in all it was a good day. I love the zoo and hopefully Andrew will too. And if any one from the San Antonio Zoo is reading this, my son thinks you have a little cleaning to do.
So we finally get to the zoo, hop out of the car and notice all of the school buses there from a local junior high. That's right, a bunch of hormonal 7 and 8th graders with bad attitudes and, if you ask me, even worse taste in clothes. So we hung out in the gift shop for a few minutes to let the school kids move on.
Finally, we get to the first animal exhibit and it's a bear! So exciting! "Andrew look at the bear! Do you see the bear??!!" Andrew then says back, somewhat excitedly, "Mommy, poo! Poo poo in there! Need to clean up." Poo? Seriously? Yes, upon seeing a live bear, my child commented on the excrement in the space. I mean, the bear is cool and all, but will you look at all of that poo.
This became a recurring theme for the remainder of the trip. "Look at the elephant Andrew!" "Daddy, poo poo in there. Need to clean up." "Andrew, do you see the rhino?" "Look poo poo. Need to clean up." Andrew pointed out the poo in almost every exhibit we saw. The only ones where he didn't talk about it were the ones where the poo was not visible (such as the butterfly exhibit).
However, we did see some lovely butterflies and Andrew found the monkeys very entertaining. The zoo has a large, walk-in bird cage full of lorikeets (a small type of parrot). So we bought some bird food for the lories and walk into the cage. I set the container of food down on a ledge and then showed Andrew how you can stroke the birds feathers. So Andrew goes to touch one of the birds and Adam says "Be gentle Andrew or they might bite you." At which point Andrew jumps back and refuses to come within 3 feet of a bird. Oh well.
All in all it was a good day. I love the zoo and hopefully Andrew will too. And if any one from the San Antonio Zoo is reading this, my son thinks you have a little cleaning to do.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Go sit in the corner
I was chatting with Andrew today on the way home from the grocery store and almost ran a red light. I noticed it just in time and was able to safely stop, but I commented to Andrew that I would have been in big trouble had I run the light.
My son promptly told me to go sit in the corner. Furthermore, he informed that I would not be allowed to watch Tom and Jerry tonite, that Andrew would be watching it all by himself because I was in big trouble.
It is a very strange thing to hear your own words coming out of your child's mouth and directed at you. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go sit in the corner.
My son promptly told me to go sit in the corner. Furthermore, he informed that I would not be allowed to watch Tom and Jerry tonite, that Andrew would be watching it all by himself because I was in big trouble.
It is a very strange thing to hear your own words coming out of your child's mouth and directed at you. Now if you will excuse me, I have to go sit in the corner.
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Best Laid Plans...
I am a big believer in the plan. I always try to have a plan. I am not into the spontaneous thing that much. My friend Kim always says "Plan your work and work your plan" and I couldn't agree more. And it just really bums me when a plan goes wrong.
Well, recently, it would seem that the rest of the world is set on thwarting every plan I make. Here lately nothing has gone according to plan. For example, last Friday my parents were going to keep Andrew overnight so that Adam and I got a free evening and a free morning (yippee). But Mom got sick so we had to pick Andrew up in the evening (boo).
Then, I had planned on getting my gardening and some yard work done on Wednesday. My parents always come over on Wednesday to hang out with Andrew so there is someone to entertain him while I work. Excellent time for gardening and yard work. What happened? Their cable broke and the cable man was coming Wednesday. There goes the plan.
Today, I hired a babysitter so I could have a little time to clean the house (again, easier to do without Andrew's help) and probably spend a little time scrapbooking. Nope, not going to happen. The baby sitter did not show up. Another plan blown to hell.
At this rate, I will never accomplish anything again. Adam and I have big plans to do spring cleaning this weekend and finish up our landscaping (including planting the vegetable garden). Any bets on whether or not that's going to happen?
Well, recently, it would seem that the rest of the world is set on thwarting every plan I make. Here lately nothing has gone according to plan. For example, last Friday my parents were going to keep Andrew overnight so that Adam and I got a free evening and a free morning (yippee). But Mom got sick so we had to pick Andrew up in the evening (boo).
Then, I had planned on getting my gardening and some yard work done on Wednesday. My parents always come over on Wednesday to hang out with Andrew so there is someone to entertain him while I work. Excellent time for gardening and yard work. What happened? Their cable broke and the cable man was coming Wednesday. There goes the plan.
Today, I hired a babysitter so I could have a little time to clean the house (again, easier to do without Andrew's help) and probably spend a little time scrapbooking. Nope, not going to happen. The baby sitter did not show up. Another plan blown to hell.
At this rate, I will never accomplish anything again. Adam and I have big plans to do spring cleaning this weekend and finish up our landscaping (including planting the vegetable garden). Any bets on whether or not that's going to happen?
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Having the Plague
I found out yesterday that I have the plague. Okay, I don't actually have the plague, I have pink eye, but I might as well have the plague. In fact, I would probably have more visitors if I had the plague. Having pink eye is social death. No one wants to come near you. There is a 10 foot exclusion zone around you that no one will enter, with the exception of Andrew who has no idea what the plague, I mean pink eye, is.
Announce that you have pink eye and suddenly your invitation to social events are revoked. You are instructed not to come into work. You are expected to do loads of laundry. No one wants you cooking dinner or washing the dishes (ok, those last two are pretty positive side effects). I find it all rather amusing.
So, when you finish reading this post make sure you wash your hands. You don't want to catch the plague, I mean pink eye.
Announce that you have pink eye and suddenly your invitation to social events are revoked. You are instructed not to come into work. You are expected to do loads of laundry. No one wants you cooking dinner or washing the dishes (ok, those last two are pretty positive side effects). I find it all rather amusing.
So, when you finish reading this post make sure you wash your hands. You don't want to catch the plague, I mean pink eye.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Momma's Little Helper
It has been awhile since I lasted posted, ok, it's been 22 days since I last posted. But it is not because I have been lazy. Far from it. It is February, which in Texas means it is almost summer, and I have started working on my yard. It's kind of a yearly thing with me. In February, I get all excited about growing things in my yard and plan new flower beds, plant vegetables, etc. By July, reality has set in, it's 100 degrees outside, dry and everything is dead. Ok, some things are still alive but that's because we have a sprinkler system, not because of any effort on my part. But right now it is February and hope springs eternal.
I frequently drag my husband and father into these little projects. This year, Adam built me a new vegetable garden. I like raised beds, because the dirt out here is so poor, so Adam nailed a bunch of 8-foot long landscape timbers together for me. And then I had to get some new dirt to fill in my new vegetable garden so I ordered some for delivery.
This past Saturday morning, a dump truck delivered 11 yards of dirt and compost and deposited it on my driveway. The fact that we couldn't fit it in the bed of our truck but had to have it delivered by a dump truck should tell you something. Yep, 11 yards is a lot of friggin' dirt...a whole lot. I would estimate the pile to be about 4.5 feet high and 10 feet long. So, now I have all of this dirt sitting in my driveway and an empty vegetable garden in the back yard which means the dirt has got to be moved.
Which is where Momma's little helper comes in, and I am not talking about the bottle of bourbon in my liquor cabinet (that's Momma's big helper), I am talking about Andrew. The appearance of a dump truck in his front yard left him speechless and the big pile of dirt it left behind...well, he was just giddy with excitement.
We immediately pulled out shovels and the wheel barrow and began shoveling dirt. Andrew ran to get his shovel and wheel barrow out of the backyard and pitched right in. He then followed Adam into the backyard pushing his own wheel barrow. Of course, Andrew made it about 1/4 of the way to the garden before he decided his wheel barrow was too heavy and Momma needed to carry it for him. After that he switched to his dump truck which he could just push across the ground. Of course, because Andrew was "helping," everything took twice as long to do.
Did I mention we had overestimated the amount of dirt we would need? Way overestimated. So, Saturday night saw us at Home Depot buying rocks to build raised flower beds. By Sunday, we had recruited assistance. My father came over to help and we even sucked in Adam's dad. By lunch time on Sunday, the new vegetable garden was full of dirt, the old vegetable garden had a nice thick layer of compost added, two flower beds had been built and filled with dirt and we had started spreading dirt across the yard to level it out.
And Momma's little helper was out like a light. He took a four-hour nap. In fact, Andrew napped so well I had him out moving dirt on Monday. I think moving dirt could become a regular occurrence at our house which is fortunate since I still have a huge pile of dirt sitting on my driveway.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Panic!
I pride myself on being a calm person in general. In an emergency situation, I generally remain in control of my emotions and don't panic. Of course, I did add the caveat "in general."
You know how every other cheesy movie has a character who has a repressed memory or some awful childhood memory that makes them do strange things. Well, tonite I starred in my own cheesy movie "When Good Weather Goes Bad."
See, it all started when I was about 3 years old. One night, some really bad storms blew through Austin including some with really large hail. I understand it sounded like a freight train coming. I vaguely recall laying in the hallway, with my pillow over my head and my mother covering me with her body. It tore up roofs and, if you were so unfortunate as to have windows facing the direction the storm came from, broke a lot of windows.
Needless to say I do not like hail. Actually, that is a little bit of an understatement. Hail completely unnerves me and I freak out, even lose control a little bit. I can hear the very first piece of hail hit the ceiling. As a child, many times the first indication my parents had of a hail storm at night was me crawling into bed with them.
So tonite, I was upstairs talking to Adam. I step out of his office and notice that it has started raining. No problem. I walk down the hall, check on Andrew and then hear thunder and see lightning. Again, no problem. I walk down the stairs to check radar and just as I step onto the tile floor, I hear hail. Big problem. I momentarily lose complete control. I yell out for Adam with a note of panic in my voice. He comes racing down the stairs asking what is wrong.
"It's hailing."
"It is?"
"YES! Can't you hear it?" (I mean really, is the man deaf?)
"Is it big hail?"
"Well, no, it is actually pretty small." (Probably not even pea size, but it could get bigger at any second.)
"Would you like me to bring Andrew downstairs?" (God bless the man, he knows me inside out.)
Actually yes, but I am trying desperately not to overreact, so no. Nevertheless, I head down the hall to our closet underneath the stairs (it's a walk-in) after telling Adam to check radar. When the house was being built, we identified this closet as the strongest place in the house. Andrew and I spent some time in it last fall when a tornado was reported a couple of miles away (Adam was out of town). It is equipped with old tennis shoes and socks for Adam and I, raincoats for everybody, a wind up radio, a weather alert radio and flashlights. Now that storm season has started, in FEBRUARY for pete's sake, I will add some bottled water and crackers (I am prepared).
Of course, during Christmas it was used for storing presents, empty toy boxes and wrapping paper. So, I go down the hall and immediately start chucking toy boxes out of the closet and into the garage. Got to make sure there is room for me, my child, my husband, and my dog. Boxes are flying left and right. There is no time to waste, I mean it is hailing for heaven's sake.
Once I clear sufficient space, I head back to the family room and discover it has stopped hailing. Emergency over. Crisis averted. Everyone can return to their normal activities.
I might have overreacted...a bit. But don't worry, I will let you know if it starts hailing again.
You know how every other cheesy movie has a character who has a repressed memory or some awful childhood memory that makes them do strange things. Well, tonite I starred in my own cheesy movie "When Good Weather Goes Bad."
See, it all started when I was about 3 years old. One night, some really bad storms blew through Austin including some with really large hail. I understand it sounded like a freight train coming. I vaguely recall laying in the hallway, with my pillow over my head and my mother covering me with her body. It tore up roofs and, if you were so unfortunate as to have windows facing the direction the storm came from, broke a lot of windows.
Needless to say I do not like hail. Actually, that is a little bit of an understatement. Hail completely unnerves me and I freak out, even lose control a little bit. I can hear the very first piece of hail hit the ceiling. As a child, many times the first indication my parents had of a hail storm at night was me crawling into bed with them.
So tonite, I was upstairs talking to Adam. I step out of his office and notice that it has started raining. No problem. I walk down the hall, check on Andrew and then hear thunder and see lightning. Again, no problem. I walk down the stairs to check radar and just as I step onto the tile floor, I hear hail. Big problem. I momentarily lose complete control. I yell out for Adam with a note of panic in my voice. He comes racing down the stairs asking what is wrong.
"It's hailing."
"It is?"
"YES! Can't you hear it?" (I mean really, is the man deaf?)
"Is it big hail?"
"Well, no, it is actually pretty small." (Probably not even pea size, but it could get bigger at any second.)
"Would you like me to bring Andrew downstairs?" (God bless the man, he knows me inside out.)
Actually yes, but I am trying desperately not to overreact, so no. Nevertheless, I head down the hall to our closet underneath the stairs (it's a walk-in) after telling Adam to check radar. When the house was being built, we identified this closet as the strongest place in the house. Andrew and I spent some time in it last fall when a tornado was reported a couple of miles away (Adam was out of town). It is equipped with old tennis shoes and socks for Adam and I, raincoats for everybody, a wind up radio, a weather alert radio and flashlights. Now that storm season has started, in FEBRUARY for pete's sake, I will add some bottled water and crackers (I am prepared).
Of course, during Christmas it was used for storing presents, empty toy boxes and wrapping paper. So, I go down the hall and immediately start chucking toy boxes out of the closet and into the garage. Got to make sure there is room for me, my child, my husband, and my dog. Boxes are flying left and right. There is no time to waste, I mean it is hailing for heaven's sake.
Once I clear sufficient space, I head back to the family room and discover it has stopped hailing. Emergency over. Crisis averted. Everyone can return to their normal activities.
I might have overreacted...a bit. But don't worry, I will let you know if it starts hailing again.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Friends Don't Let Friends Texture
Let me start by saying I have really great parents whom I love and adore. They are really great grandparents to Andrew and have done a lot for me and Adam. So, when they need something done, I am more than willing to help out. (In English class, this would be called foreshadowing).
My parents are in the process of remodeling their 2 bathrooms and are doing some of the work themselves. (If you didn't just say "Oh shit" you should have...see foreshadowing.) A couple of weeks ago, Dad asked me to help with painting the bathrooms and I, who love to paint rooms, said yes. I can honestly say that I didn't exactly understand what I was signing up for.
My parents house is close to 50 years old (it is the house they owned when I was born and, no, I am not 50). The bathrooms have always been wallpapered, back in the 70's it was this god-awful gold and white wall paper and more recently a subdued tan with some hints of blue. My father had peeled off this wallpaper to reveal bare sheetrock.
My cousin Scott, who has done a little remodeling himself, told my father that the walls would need to be textured. I have never thought of Scott as a mean person, but, clearly he has a sadistic streak.
After visiting with the guys at Home Depot, we settled for the bucket of goop that provided a smooth texture finish. The guy at Home Depot assured us this was much easier than working with the goop that left a heavier texture. According to him, you just slap it on the wall with a trowel and spread it out. No problem.
So this morning, I go over to my parents house at 6:30 and, after breakfast, we begin work. There is normally a large mirror in the bathroom so we decide to start on the wall that will be covered by the mirror. I take our trowel, slap some goop on the wall and begin to spread. It looks horrible. I mean truly awful. So I decide to read the directions on the bucket of goop. It says we should be using a loop roller to apply the goop. So we trek back to home depot, buy some more stuff, get injured in the process, and try again. The loop roller looks even worse than the trowel. By this time, Mom has wisely retreated to another part of the house where she will remain for most of the day.
Dad and I discuss our options:
a) Continue with the goop we have and hope we figure it out.
b) Don't texture the wall and just paint it.
c) Hire a contractor to do it.
Despite my very vocal support, Option C is tossed out pretty quickly. The guys at Home Depot and the aforementioned cousin Scott made it clear that we can't just paint the sheetrock (and the sheetrock is in pretty bad shape I should include), so Option B is out. That leaves only Option A. We were going to have to texture the damn thing.
So, I take a paint brush and begin slapping goop up on the wall and Dad starts spreading it with the trowel. It was not pretty. To quote A Christmas Story, "In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan." I should say that Dad was not the only one cursing. It is a good thing Andrew was not around or he would have a whole bunch of new words to repeat.
By the time we finished today, at 2:00 pm, our technique had improved considerably. I wouldn't say it looked great, but it looks better than it did when we started (not that it could have gotten much worse). I just hope we can hide some of the flaws with paint. And both of us agreed, we hate texturing walls and never want to do it again.
Did I mention that we still have one bathroom to do?
My parents are in the process of remodeling their 2 bathrooms and are doing some of the work themselves. (If you didn't just say "Oh shit" you should have...see foreshadowing.) A couple of weeks ago, Dad asked me to help with painting the bathrooms and I, who love to paint rooms, said yes. I can honestly say that I didn't exactly understand what I was signing up for.
My parents house is close to 50 years old (it is the house they owned when I was born and, no, I am not 50). The bathrooms have always been wallpapered, back in the 70's it was this god-awful gold and white wall paper and more recently a subdued tan with some hints of blue. My father had peeled off this wallpaper to reveal bare sheetrock.
My cousin Scott, who has done a little remodeling himself, told my father that the walls would need to be textured. I have never thought of Scott as a mean person, but, clearly he has a sadistic streak.
After visiting with the guys at Home Depot, we settled for the bucket of goop that provided a smooth texture finish. The guy at Home Depot assured us this was much easier than working with the goop that left a heavier texture. According to him, you just slap it on the wall with a trowel and spread it out. No problem.
So this morning, I go over to my parents house at 6:30 and, after breakfast, we begin work. There is normally a large mirror in the bathroom so we decide to start on the wall that will be covered by the mirror. I take our trowel, slap some goop on the wall and begin to spread. It looks horrible. I mean truly awful. So I decide to read the directions on the bucket of goop. It says we should be using a loop roller to apply the goop. So we trek back to home depot, buy some more stuff, get injured in the process, and try again. The loop roller looks even worse than the trowel. By this time, Mom has wisely retreated to another part of the house where she will remain for most of the day.
Dad and I discuss our options:
a) Continue with the goop we have and hope we figure it out.
b) Don't texture the wall and just paint it.
c) Hire a contractor to do it.
Despite my very vocal support, Option C is tossed out pretty quickly. The guys at Home Depot and the aforementioned cousin Scott made it clear that we can't just paint the sheetrock (and the sheetrock is in pretty bad shape I should include), so Option B is out. That leaves only Option A. We were going to have to texture the damn thing.
So, I take a paint brush and begin slapping goop up on the wall and Dad starts spreading it with the trowel. It was not pretty. To quote A Christmas Story, "In the heat of battle my father wove a tapestry of obscenities that as far as we know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan." I should say that Dad was not the only one cursing. It is a good thing Andrew was not around or he would have a whole bunch of new words to repeat.
By the time we finished today, at 2:00 pm, our technique had improved considerably. I wouldn't say it looked great, but it looks better than it did when we started (not that it could have gotten much worse). I just hope we can hide some of the flaws with paint. And both of us agreed, we hate texturing walls and never want to do it again.
Did I mention that we still have one bathroom to do?
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Most Obnoxious Toy Ever
Andrew has quite a few obnoxious toys, including a drum set that my brother gave him for Christmas (thanks alot Larry), a fire engine, and a jet. But the most obnoxious toy that he owns was given to him at Halloween by my mother. It is a pig. A rather ugly stuffed pig that plays the theme song to the Addam's Family, with accompanying oinks, when you push its foot. And it plays the song loudly. At a headache inducing volume. But that is not what makes this toy obnoxious. What makes it obnoxious is the fact that is squeals like a stuck pig when you pull on its tail. Andrew, of course, loves to grab the tail and swing it back and forth with it squealing loudly the entire time. It sounds like you are trapped in some Arkansas hillbilly hell or stuck in the movie "Deliverance" with Ned Beatty squealing like a pig. High-pitched and loud, it is truly the worst sound ever.
Andrew, as I said, loves the damn pig and especially loves to make it squeal. I hid it a few times, but he always managed to find it. Finally, blessedly, the batteries gave out. I was elated. "So sorry baby but the batteries are dead." I thought that was the end of it. And then my Benedict Arnold of a husband betrayed me.
Now, Adam knows I hate that pig. There is no doubt about it. So you can imagine my surprise when he turned up in the kitchen yesterday evening with the pig in hand and Andrew right behind him. "What are you doing?" I asked. "It needs new batteries," he replied. I reply that I think we are out of batteries and Andrew pipes up as he opens one of the kitchen drawers "Here batteries Daddy." That kid is entirely too observant for his own good.
So this morning when Andrew wakes up at 6:00 am, what is the first toy he grabs. That damn pig. There is nothing like hearing a squealing pig before you have had your first cup of coffee. And where is the love of my life, Adam? Buried under the covers in our bedroom. I can't decide if I should just leave the pig on Andrew's chair to find first thing tomorrow morning when Adam gets Andrew out of bed or to let Andrew wake him up with it's squealing one morning. Paybacks are hell...
Andrew, as I said, loves the damn pig and especially loves to make it squeal. I hid it a few times, but he always managed to find it. Finally, blessedly, the batteries gave out. I was elated. "So sorry baby but the batteries are dead." I thought that was the end of it. And then my Benedict Arnold of a husband betrayed me.
Now, Adam knows I hate that pig. There is no doubt about it. So you can imagine my surprise when he turned up in the kitchen yesterday evening with the pig in hand and Andrew right behind him. "What are you doing?" I asked. "It needs new batteries," he replied. I reply that I think we are out of batteries and Andrew pipes up as he opens one of the kitchen drawers "Here batteries Daddy." That kid is entirely too observant for his own good.
So this morning when Andrew wakes up at 6:00 am, what is the first toy he grabs. That damn pig. There is nothing like hearing a squealing pig before you have had your first cup of coffee. And where is the love of my life, Adam? Buried under the covers in our bedroom. I can't decide if I should just leave the pig on Andrew's chair to find first thing tomorrow morning when Adam gets Andrew out of bed or to let Andrew wake him up with it's squealing one morning. Paybacks are hell...
Friday, January 23, 2009
Caught in a compromising position
Today, I became a victim. The day started off well enough. Andrew and I went to the park. The grounds people were doing some work, so in addition to climbing on the playscape, we got to watch a tractor dig holes. Exciting stuff for a 2 1/2-year old. While we were at the park, we walked over and picked up the mail, another exciting moment for Andrew. We came home, ate lunch and both laid down for a nap.
I was up from my nap before Andrew and decided to check out the mail. Along with the various ads and the electric bill there was a love note from my bank. I thought about not opening the letter, it was probably just a note assuring me my bank was financially stable. But, on a whim, I decide to open it before shoving it into the bill drawer. And that was when I found out I was a victim. Here is what the letter said:
"ALERT! [their emphasis, not mine] Recently, our bank was notified from Mastercard Fraud Control that your card number has been possibly compromised." So not only am I a victim, I have been compromised (and not in a fun way). Apparently, I used my debit card at a vendor whose database was compromised. It suggested I review my account on-line to look for fraudulent charges. So, I did.
And there it was, a charge at Denny's on a Wednesday. Now don't get me wrong, Adam, Andrew and I have visited Denny's on occasion. I really like their omelettes (which is odd because I don't really like eggs). But my love of their omelettes aside, we have not visited Denny's recently, and certainly not on a Wednesday.
Further review turned up a charge at Lakeline Mall on Tuesday that was not ours. So, I called the number listed on the letter. Turns out my card was used to access our account information, but it was Adam's debit card that was used to make charges. So Adam is now over at our bank, cancelling our cards, getting new ones and filing out the paperwork to dispute the charges (totalling about $45).
You would think if you had stolen a credit card or debit card number, you would go ahead and buy yourself that new leather coat you have been wanting, not go to breakfast at Dennys. But according to the experts (aka the bank), most thieves make a few small purchases to see if you are paying attention. If nothing happens and the account is still open, then they buy themselves the new leather coat along with shoes and a purse that matches.
So the moral of this story is that we should all be reviewing our accounts periodically and, when your bank sends you a love note, go ahead and read it.
I was up from my nap before Andrew and decided to check out the mail. Along with the various ads and the electric bill there was a love note from my bank. I thought about not opening the letter, it was probably just a note assuring me my bank was financially stable. But, on a whim, I decide to open it before shoving it into the bill drawer. And that was when I found out I was a victim. Here is what the letter said:
"ALERT! [their emphasis, not mine] Recently, our bank was notified from Mastercard Fraud Control that your card number has been possibly compromised." So not only am I a victim, I have been compromised (and not in a fun way). Apparently, I used my debit card at a vendor whose database was compromised. It suggested I review my account on-line to look for fraudulent charges. So, I did.
And there it was, a charge at Denny's on a Wednesday. Now don't get me wrong, Adam, Andrew and I have visited Denny's on occasion. I really like their omelettes (which is odd because I don't really like eggs). But my love of their omelettes aside, we have not visited Denny's recently, and certainly not on a Wednesday.
Further review turned up a charge at Lakeline Mall on Tuesday that was not ours. So, I called the number listed on the letter. Turns out my card was used to access our account information, but it was Adam's debit card that was used to make charges. So Adam is now over at our bank, cancelling our cards, getting new ones and filing out the paperwork to dispute the charges (totalling about $45).
You would think if you had stolen a credit card or debit card number, you would go ahead and buy yourself that new leather coat you have been wanting, not go to breakfast at Dennys. But according to the experts (aka the bank), most thieves make a few small purchases to see if you are paying attention. If nothing happens and the account is still open, then they buy themselves the new leather coat along with shoes and a purse that matches.
So the moral of this story is that we should all be reviewing our accounts periodically and, when your bank sends you a love note, go ahead and read it.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Superstition and Photoshop
Most people would say I am a very practical person. For the most part, I believe things are what they are and you just need to deal with it. That being said, I am also a very superstitious person. (Can you be both practical and superstitious at the same time? I know, I am a mass of contradictions.)
For example, every morning I play a hand of freecell. I bet you didn't know that freecell can predict whether or not it is going to be a good day. If I win my game of freecell, it is going to be a good day. If I lose, it is going to be a bad day. And of course, how easily I win the game is a predictor of exactly how good of a day it is going to be.
The law school I attended had approximately 6 classrooms used for taking finals. I had a specific chair in each of these classrooms that I sat in when taking finals. I always sat in the same chair when taking finals and I always wore the same clothes when taking finals...for 3 years. I passed all of my classes, so I guess it worked.
So now we get to Photoshop. I have two goals today, scrapbooking and some light housework (yes, just light housework, no reason to get crazy and do heavy-duty cleaning). I have been doing some scrapping this morning and needed to print out some photos. So I open my Photoshop and start loading photos. And my computer freezes. So I close photoshop and reboot my computer. And try again, 5 times. Yes, I have now rebooted my computer 5 times. I have finally decided that Photoshop is not working because I haven't done any housework. I did say I was going to do some light housework today and all I have done so far is scrapping. Clearly that is the problem. So I have now taken out the trash and swept. Photoshop should work. After all, freecell today was going to be a good day...
For example, every morning I play a hand of freecell. I bet you didn't know that freecell can predict whether or not it is going to be a good day. If I win my game of freecell, it is going to be a good day. If I lose, it is going to be a bad day. And of course, how easily I win the game is a predictor of exactly how good of a day it is going to be.
The law school I attended had approximately 6 classrooms used for taking finals. I had a specific chair in each of these classrooms that I sat in when taking finals. I always sat in the same chair when taking finals and I always wore the same clothes when taking finals...for 3 years. I passed all of my classes, so I guess it worked.
So now we get to Photoshop. I have two goals today, scrapbooking and some light housework (yes, just light housework, no reason to get crazy and do heavy-duty cleaning). I have been doing some scrapping this morning and needed to print out some photos. So I open my Photoshop and start loading photos. And my computer freezes. So I close photoshop and reboot my computer. And try again, 5 times. Yes, I have now rebooted my computer 5 times. I have finally decided that Photoshop is not working because I haven't done any housework. I did say I was going to do some light housework today and all I have done so far is scrapping. Clearly that is the problem. So I have now taken out the trash and swept. Photoshop should work. After all, freecell today was going to be a good day...
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Faith and Politics
I am sitting in my favorite chair and watching the inauguration of President Obama. And every five minutes I am bursting into tears. I have a box of Kleenex next to me and I am not afraid to use it! I am moved and inspired by Obama. I know many people regard politicians as lower than snakes, but I don't hold that view. I hope and believe that Obama can put our nation back on the right track.
As most of you know, I worked in politics for 11 years, including 7 years working for 2 Senators. You would think that I would be very cynical about politics and, believe me, I am. But it has also given me a very strong faith in our political system and the politicians who serve.
It is certainly true that some politicians are in it to get what they can for themselves. They are what the staff call "lobby whores." They are constantly on the look out for the free meal, the free tickets, the free hunting trip, etc. But in my experience, that is not the case with most politicians.
Most of the politicians I have observed during my 11 years truly want to do what they think is best for their constituents, the state, or the nation (even if I don't always agree with what they think is best). In some instances, I have seen politicians cast a vote that they knew their constituents would oppose but that they felt was right for the state. It is rarely easy being a politician. I get so angry when someone says, "He is supposed to represent me and I am opposed to this bill." Let me assure you that he also represents constituents who support that bill. So exactly who does he represent? The answer is both of you. Hopefully, when you voted you chose the person you trusted to make wise decisions not the best looking one or the one from the "correct" party.
So, as we inaugurate a new president today, my faith in our government, and the politicians who run it, remains strong. And, I may have found a little bit of faith in the American people...but just a little...
As most of you know, I worked in politics for 11 years, including 7 years working for 2 Senators. You would think that I would be very cynical about politics and, believe me, I am. But it has also given me a very strong faith in our political system and the politicians who serve.
It is certainly true that some politicians are in it to get what they can for themselves. They are what the staff call "lobby whores." They are constantly on the look out for the free meal, the free tickets, the free hunting trip, etc. But in my experience, that is not the case with most politicians.
Most of the politicians I have observed during my 11 years truly want to do what they think is best for their constituents, the state, or the nation (even if I don't always agree with what they think is best). In some instances, I have seen politicians cast a vote that they knew their constituents would oppose but that they felt was right for the state. It is rarely easy being a politician. I get so angry when someone says, "He is supposed to represent me and I am opposed to this bill." Let me assure you that he also represents constituents who support that bill. So exactly who does he represent? The answer is both of you. Hopefully, when you voted you chose the person you trusted to make wise decisions not the best looking one or the one from the "correct" party.
So, as we inaugurate a new president today, my faith in our government, and the politicians who run it, remains strong. And, I may have found a little bit of faith in the American people...but just a little...
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
What I did to today...
4:15 am - Wake up when Andrew starts talking to himself
4:30 am - Andrew says "I ready to get up." Go upstairs and inform him that he is not ready to get up. It is another 20 minutes before he falls back asleep. Did I mention he talks to himself?
5:15 am - Give up on trying to go back to sleep and get up.
8:00 am - Send Andrew off to school. Leave house, pick up Mom and drive to Fredericksburg.
10:00 am - Shopping!
4:14 pm - Return home from shopping.
6:00 pm - Eat dinner
6:30 - Help Adam take down the Christmas tree.
Yes, you read that right. We waited until January 12th to take down our Christmas tree. I love putting up the tree, but I hate taking it down. And it is something I can't do by myself, Adam has to help. And, because I insist on a real tree, there are needles everywhere. Adam wanted to light it on fire, I reminded him of the burn ban.
A friend knows a person who built a storage room onto her house just for her Christmas tree. The artificial tree is mounted on wheels and she just rolls it from her living room into the storage room. No need to take down decorations. No needles. No request from her husband to set the tree on fire.
Maybe I should look into adding a room onto the house....
4:30 am - Andrew says "I ready to get up." Go upstairs and inform him that he is not ready to get up. It is another 20 minutes before he falls back asleep. Did I mention he talks to himself?
5:15 am - Give up on trying to go back to sleep and get up.
8:00 am - Send Andrew off to school. Leave house, pick up Mom and drive to Fredericksburg.
10:00 am - Shopping!
4:14 pm - Return home from shopping.
6:00 pm - Eat dinner
6:30 - Help Adam take down the Christmas tree.
Yes, you read that right. We waited until January 12th to take down our Christmas tree. I love putting up the tree, but I hate taking it down. And it is something I can't do by myself, Adam has to help. And, because I insist on a real tree, there are needles everywhere. Adam wanted to light it on fire, I reminded him of the burn ban.
A friend knows a person who built a storage room onto her house just for her Christmas tree. The artificial tree is mounted on wheels and she just rolls it from her living room into the storage room. No need to take down decorations. No needles. No request from her husband to set the tree on fire.
Maybe I should look into adding a room onto the house....
Sunday, January 11, 2009
My Very First Post
So, I have been thinking about creating a blog for a long time, but it just seemed like a pain in the a**. But then my friend Staci started blogging and I thought "Well, if Staci can do it, I can do it!" Ok, I am joking about that, but only partly. I have really enjoyed reading her blog and she encouraged me to do it, so here I go.
I am not really sure what I am going to blog about. My guess is that the postings will vary widely, from a description of my day to political rantings to really random stuff. We will just have to see what develops.
One issue I am still debating is whether or not to post pictures of/blog about my child. I have been opposed to providing any information/photos about my child on-line. I have always thought that was just making it easier for someone who may want to hurt him. I realize that I am probably being a little too paranoid and so in the coming days he may appear on this blog. I mean, if I don't talk about him, what am I going to talk about?
So, welcome to my brave new world...The Holleygram
I am not really sure what I am going to blog about. My guess is that the postings will vary widely, from a description of my day to political rantings to really random stuff. We will just have to see what develops.
One issue I am still debating is whether or not to post pictures of/blog about my child. I have been opposed to providing any information/photos about my child on-line. I have always thought that was just making it easier for someone who may want to hurt him. I realize that I am probably being a little too paranoid and so in the coming days he may appear on this blog. I mean, if I don't talk about him, what am I going to talk about?
So, welcome to my brave new world...The Holleygram
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