Tag: life

Cause and Effect

Mommy will help you strip the sheets off and carry them downstairs to the laundry room. She’ll even get your load started by turning on the water and adding the soap. After that, you’re on your own. 
First, separate the flat sheet from the fitted sheet.
Throw it in the washing machine.
Take the other one and throw that in, too.
 Throw that in there.
Stuff it all down and try to close the lid. 
Very sweetly, ask Mommy for some help, which, of course, she will give. 
 Then promise not to take off your Pull-Up in the middle of the night, 
“just to see what will happen”, 
ever 
again.
 
Continue Reading
IN: ON: August 13, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

Don’t Come A’Knockin’. . .

When I’m at home, after having spent the better part of my day running the streets with the girls, I just want to relax.  Usually, I am able to scrape together about 20 to 30 minutes for myself while the girls play quietly. And truly, unless someone is bleeding, bones are showing through skin, or the house is on fire with us all inside,  I don’t want to be disturbed.

Too bad the door-to-door douchebag solicitor didn’t get the memo.

I had seen this guy talking to a neighbor across the street.  He wasn’t someone I recognized from the block. Something about him just screamed “I’ve got something to sell you!”  I hustled the girls inside and locked the door.

I made my way downstairs after tucking in the girls and sure enough, there’s a knock on our door.  Let me re-phrase, there was a vicious pounding on the front door.  You’d have thought the ATF was outside and I was running a meth lab out back.

 I was already coming down the stairs, so I don’t know whether or not he heard me or saw me through the glass panes at the top of the door.  I crouched down and did a half Groucho Marx walk/half commando slither to the front of the house where I could get a look at who it was, but I already knew.

As my fingertips hung onto the windowsill, I raised my head slightly over the top.  I realized, all he had to do was take a few steps to the left and we’d be face to forehead.  I dropped quickly onto the floor, laying supine under the windows, my ears pricked for any movements on the front porch.

Man, I did not want to open the door!  I counted 10 beats.  I counted 20 beats.  Quietly, quietly, quietly,  I came to a squatting position and tip-toed it to the far side of the room where I could get an angle on the front porch.  Gone.

Two days later, it’s Friday morning.  DH and I woke up late, the kids having camped out with my folks.  As DH headed to the bathroom for the three S’s, I made my way downstairs to make him a bite to eat.  I’m halfway down the stairs when I hear:

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are you kidding me? It’s 7:45 in the morning.  Upon hearing the banging, my body goes into fight or flight.  Seriously, the door sounds like it’s about o bust off its hinges.  I drop to a crouch and cruise over to the windows.  It’s the same freaking guy from before!  What are you doing?! What could you possibly have to sell at 7:45 in the morning? What makes you think that banging on my front door like you’re John Henry is going to make someone open the door?

I already knew I wasn’t going to open it.   So what if he could see me through the windows?  I pulled myself to my full 63 inches and walked through my house, squeaky floorboards and all.

I thought about putting a “No Solicitors” on the front door, but I don’t want to be that family on the street.  Besides, with back-to-school all but here, I’m sure the Girl Scouts will be rolling out their cookie patrol and I surely don’t want to miss that.

Continue Reading
IN: ON: August 9, 2010 TAGS: , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

And Again With the Phone

I’m usually pretty careful with my personal items.  I hardly ever lose things.  I mean, yeah, there was that virginity thing, and my keys that one time.  And hey, I lost only one of my children once in the past 3 years.  I’m doing pretty good, right?

When it comes to the cell phone, however, it’s a lost cause.  I lose it, it turns up. I lose it, it turns up.  We dance this dance again and again.  I threaten to put a bell, a leash, anything on it and yet, it still slips through my grasp.

This is day 3 of the missing phone and the suck factor has multiplied ten-fold.  So, what had happened was. . .

The girls and I headed out to scoop up another mom/daughter friend for a great day at Busch Gardens.  We were off to a good start, and while my friend finished getting ready, I went to install her daughter’s Britax in the back of the car.  I had my phone at the time; I was talking to Gym Mommy, as a matter of fact.  When it looked like the carseat was in, the troops ready to roll, I bid adieu to Gym Mommy and put my phone. . .where? 

Beats me.

We were pulling out onto the main drag and Morgan asked me to put on some Ne-Yo from a playlist on my phone.  I told her that I couldn’t reach my phone — I’m thinking it’s in the way back of the car with my purse and stuff — and I’d do it on the way home.   We make it to Busch Gardens, we lunch, we ride, we walk, walk, walk all over England, Scotland, and Italy.  We head home and I still don’t think about the phone. Blessedly, Morgan forgot her request for Ne-yo and the girls contented themselves with stuffing their faces with Craisins as they watched the Little Einsteins (yes, I have become one of those DVD-in-the-car parents.  A multiple mile backup on 64 will do that to you!).

I do realize, though, that I haven’t heard my phone ring at all.  Not that I’m super popular, but my parents and my brother regularly check in and all had been quiet.  I figured I must have left the phone on my friend’s mail table back at the house.  When we get back to town to drop them off, that’s the first place I look.

No phone.

Hmmmm. . .what did I do after I said bye to Gym Mommy?  Did I put the phone in the car? Or did I go back into the house to coordinate one last potty trip before we got in the car? Did the phone get sucked into some sofa cushions? Swept into a box of Strawberry Shortcake and Polly Pocket detritus?

Let’s call it.  And. . .straight to voicemail? What?! Impossible.  There’s no way that from 10:15am to 5:30pm the phone would have lost a charge.  Craaaaaaaap!

Oh, the irritation that ensued.  My friend and I looked in the house. We checked the car.  Nothing. I said bye to her — it was late and the kids were hungry — and headed home.  When DH came in, I told him of my debacle and asked if he’d check the car.  A fresh pair of eyes never hurt, right?

In the meantime, I called my service provider to find out when the last call was made because maybe it got stolen!  But the call records indicate that the last incoming call was the one I took before leaving for BG.  Great.  My phone has a service called “Find My Phone” and I finally navigate many a webpage to that site.  Yeah, too bad they’re tell me that 1) I never registered my phone and 2) Because the phone appears to be off, I wouldn’t be able to use the “Find My Phone” feature anyway.

Grrrrr!!  The evening ends with my friend checked in with me, but nothing on her end, nothing on mine.

Day 2 rolls around and I realize that without my phone, I feel totally incapacitated.   I have no alarm clock.  I actually have to turn on the TV to check the weather.  I don’t know if anyone has called, emailed or texted me.  I can’t see what pithy, witty status updates I’ve missed.  I can’t take funny photos of the girls.  I can’t call my Grandma in between our various errands or check to see how much fundage I have in the bank via my banking app.  My vocabulary is suffering because I can’t submit my entry on Words With Friends, and if I don’t check in on Foursquare soon, someone else is going to be the mayor of Pasha!!  I realize that I have become too reliant on my phone.  I’m too irritated to be embarrassed by that admission.

I have got to find this flippin’ thing.

I take the car apart.  Carseats out, stroller out. I fold down the seats, I pull the seats back up. I empty all cup holders, compartments, catch-alls and cubbies.  I’m sweating because it’s 90 degrees at 9am and because I’m getting really, really ticked off. I find a pen, four goldfish, a barrette, a used tissue and 68 cents.

I call my friend and ask her if I can come scour her front yard to see if it fell in the grass.  Thankfully, she takes my neurosis in stride and welcomes us over.  She’s on her way out of town, getting packed and such, but still stops to help me look.  The kids are watching TV, completely oblivious to the madness around them.  When it looks like the phone is a no show in her house, my friend and I start offering up bribes to the kids to get them to help us.

Cheez-E-Poofs for dessert! Whatever you want, just tell us where the phone is!!

Blank stares all around.

*le sigh* I take a few laps up and down her street because it dawns on me, maybe I left if on the back bumper when I finished talking, just as the tailgate came down.  That wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put a phone there: Side note — I was loading up groceries while talking on the phone, I hung up and put the phone down.  Then I promptly shut the tailgate. Right.on.the.phone.

Anyway, no broken pieces of phone in the road, but what’s to say that it hung on for a few blocks before it flew off.  So here we are on Day 3 and I’m starting to accept that the phone is gone. 

 I’m sure that there is a lesson to be learned here, probably something along the lines of taking a break from technology for the good of my own personal sanity and safety (i.e. all the dangers that go with cell phones and driving), yadda, yadda, yadda.

If I said I was reformed, would that bring my phone back?

Continue Reading
IN: ON: August 4, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

My Cup Runneth Over

On Wednesday it was hot.  Like the pit of Hades hot, frying eggs on the sidewalk, don’t even look at me because it just makes me sweat kind of hot.    So hot that I considered going sans bra for a bit.  That didn’t come to pass — we are involved in a number of family activities, after all — but you can bet your over-the-shoulder-boulder-holders that I whipped that joker off as soon as we got home.

After another day of running here, there, and everywhere, when we got in the door, I just dropped our stuff, sat down, unsnapped, and let the girls breathe.  I left the bra sitting on the table while I sorted through the mail and the other detritus that had accumulated over the past few days.

Morgan, in one of her many laps around the house, rolled on through the room, stopping short when she saw my bra keeping me company.

“Whoa!” she said, eyeing the upright cups.  “Is that your bra? That’s really big. I mean those things right there.  Those round parts. They’re really big.  Kind of like two hats attached together, kind of like a visor.  Or like a really big hat.  Yeah, like a really big hat.  Can I watch a show?”

I’m sporting a pretty average size Wacoal bra, but to her 4 year old eyes, must have looked like this:

I need to count my blessings that she just caught sight of my bra and not my underwear. 

Continue Reading
IN: ON: July 9, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

And then. . .and then. . .and then. . .

When people ask me what I do, I prefer to say that I work at home with my kids.  I’m not ashamed to be at home; in fact, I’m beyond lucky to be able to do so.  The thing is, I try not to say that I’m a “stay-at-home-mom” because, I’m really rarely at home. 

I’m up well before the kids, having tackled a multitude of tasks that keep this well-oiled household performing at peak condition.  By the time the girls have gotten up, I’ve ticked off several things on my to-do list, given my day planner a thorough once over, mapped out the best routes from A to Z and points in between, and have packed at least two bags with snacks, changes of clothes, and assorted books and toys to keep everyone sane and entertained.

On any given day, we’ve got something to do, somewhere to be and usually someone to share that fun with us.  Maybe it’s swimming lessons, maybe it’s the zoo, maybe it’s Paint Your Own Pottery *shudder* or some other arts & craps.  I’ve got us so scheduled and committed to playdates that Morgan not only asks, “What are we doing today?”, but “Who’s going to be there?” Heaven forbid I tell her that it’s just going to be us three. I don’t think my ego can take the look of disappointment mixed with resignation on her face.

But now, Morgan added yet another question into the mix.  Her new follow-up is, “And then what are we going to do?” 

As if breakfast, dentist appointment, soccer camp, lunch with a friend, swimming lessons, a trip to Target, a trip to Trader Joe’s, a trip to the Dollar Tree, home, shower, hair do’s, playtime outside with the neighbors, playtime inside, a quick episode of Charlie and Lola, dinner, time with Daddy, and getting ready for bed isn’t enough. 

I’m worn out just looking at that list.

There are times when I want to just turn around (because I’m inevitably driving down the road) and say, “Really? Aren’t you tired?”  Sometimes, even when I know exactly what the next two or three activities are, I beg off and say, “Let’s just play it by ear.”  If I provided her with an itemized, color coded, cross-reference comprehensive itinerary,  I still think she’d be asking me what’s next on the agenda. Other times, I honestly don’t know what’s next.  I know what I’d like to do (hello, nap like Rip Van Winkle), but it’s doubtful that what I’d like is going to win out.  I’m working towards win-win situations.  I’ll keep you posted on how that is working out.

The other day, the girls had summer camp in the morning, lunch with a friend, a long trip to Busch Gardens, then an extended playdate that lasted well into the evening.  By the time we picked the girls up at 11pm, I figured they’d be down for the count.  Both of them were still going full tilt, without having had the benefit of naps.  Outside in their pajamas, they were ricocheting off of eachother and their best buddy as we wrangled their carseats into the car.  No sooner was everyone buckled in and the key in the ignition, did Morgan ask, “Now what are we going to do?”

Hello! It’s 11 o’clock at night. I am so tired I could carry home groceries in the bags under my eyes.  So here’s what we’re going to do.  We’re going home to board the SleepyTime Express and I’m going to put pedal to the metal because that’s one train you little heffs need to be on.

I didn’t say that, not out loud anyway.  I was too tired to deal with the Pavlovian-esque response that comes with mentioning the words sleep and/or bed (i.e. tears). I just said, “Let’s just play it by ear,” and drove off into the night.

Continue Reading
IN: ON: July 7, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

Girl, where’ve you been?

Oh, how I wish I had some exotic locale to say that I’d decided to make my new home, but sadly, nope. I’ve just been busy. I mean, really busy, and yet, if you were to ask me what I’ve been doing, I’d be grasping as straws to tell you. Let me see if I can cull together some highlights of what’s been going down.

**********
Tennis — so you remember how I told you that I had been hitting the courts at least twice a week?  Things have been going really well.  My lessons and my hard work are paying off.  I can actually see improvement!  I’m breaking my bad habits while the new ones are taking hold. I’m not saying I’m ready for the USTA and any tours, but I’m feeling more confident about the regular doubles matches that I play.  I’ve been regularly subbing in this round robin comprised of 8 senior citizen ladies.  Seriously, I’m playing doubles with the Golden Girls.

The woman closest to me in age is 53 and the oldest is 78.  No joke. The first time I played with them, one of the ladies kind of burnt out in the warm up.  My partner, who is 68 says, “Damnit, Patsy! I came here to play, not to watch you huff and puff on the sidelines.  I told you to stay on your oxygen.”

Holy. Crap. Cakes.

The woman with the oxygen was quick to tell me that she’d had a mini stroke during one match, but kept on playing.  Yo! Don’t sleep on these old broads.  They’re playing through strokes, they had me running like windshield wipers all over the court for these drop shots, and they talk more trash than the Waste Management Authority.

**********
 P90X – What can I say? 30 days are behind me and I’m down 4 pounds and 3 inches from my waist.  Clearly, something is working.  You know, Tony Horton gives a little confessional at the beginning of each workout, going on and on about what this particular work out is going to do for you and how if you want to see results, you better “bring it”.  The ab routine, called Ab Ripper X , has this confessional, too. He’s all, “Oh you do 349 moves.  And you’ll have ripped abs, yadda, yadda, yadda.”  Then he looks into the camera and says, “Ab Ripper X! I hate it. . . .but I love it. “

I’m on week 6 and as far as me and Ab Ripper X go? I hate it. . . .no, I just hate it.

**********
Glee — My new favorite show!  I can’t remember how I got hooked on this one, but the next thing I know, Netflix couldn’t send them fast enough.  When that got maxed out, Hulu and I became besties.  I was walking around the house, laptop in hand so I could watch episodes. I watch the show even while the DVR is recording it. I know, it’s ridiculous.  Probably because I can’t carry a tune in a bucket, I’m living vicariously through this show.  Seriously, I lip sync “Happy Birthday”.  Anyway, I’m a “Gleek“, I’ll admit it.  First of all, I want Emma Pillsbury’s wardobe.  I even found this blog about what she wears and how you can find similar knockoffs.  Click here and thank me later.  If I could sing, I can’t decide if I want Rachel’s voice or Kurt’s. And if Mr. Shue does one more Color Me Badd/Vanilla Ice/Tone Loc cover I am going to die of embarassment for him.

**********
Reading — I have been looking for a good book for a while now, and I finally got my hands on something halfway decent. Of course, I burned right through it, but that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’ve got a good read.  I was reading two books at once, “Self Made Man” by Norah Vincent and “The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox” by Maggie O’Farrell, but I realized I could really enjoy the latter until I finished the former.  It was like eating my veggies in order to get to dessert.  I mean, I like vegetables, but we all know dessert and I have a very special relationship.  Very special, hence my new relationship with Tony Horton.  When it comes to those 4:45a work outs, I feel like Antoine and Blaine:

But I digress. 
I’m looking for another book to give up my household responsibilities for, so send titles my way.  

**********
Hanging out with BBC — My brother has been in town twice in the past two weeks, which has been really nice.  He’s come over for dinner and some quality time with the girls.  They’ve tried to con him into reading entire shelves of books, they manage to get from their chair into his lap throughout the course of a meal, and effectively relieve him of his iPhone to play Flickr Fish until someone (Morgan) cries that someone else isn’t sharing (Coever).  Last night, we went out to dinner with a girlfriend of mine and cut up like we had nothing to do tomorrow.

Several margaratini’s, margaritas, and a sangria later, the sweater comes off and the smiles come out!

We are definitely doing this again.
**********

Pretending to be Annie Liebovtiz — DH and I have been talking about getting a new camera.  I think I’m  ready for an SLR, even though it doesn’t have the sleekness of the compact models, and even though it means I’ll be schlepping more stuff around with me.  I’m just ready to take better pictures.  With that, of course, means learning about all the tips and tricks that go with SLR photography.  I got some books from the library, but I’m wondering if they’ve got a Rosetta Stone for Digital Photography because the vocab alone is enough to make me break out some flash cards to keep it straight.  Sure, I’d be tempted to just learn as I go, but an SLR, especially the Nikon D90 (*drool*) is was too pricey to waste time trying to figure it out.

My friend, Lacey, was kind enough to let me test drive her Canon PowerShotXT.  SO nice.  I had no clue what I was doing when I would increase or decrease the ISO (I’m still not entirely clear on what ISO is anyway), nor did I really see a difference between AV Mode and M, but I did get some nice pictures of the girls.

And DH even turned the camera on me for an impromptu snap session a la Austin Powers. 

**********
The Usual — I’ve been running errands, chauffeuring girls to school and playdates. I’ve hauled out the sprinkler, grilled burgers, had drinks with a neighbor (thanks, Kim), gone to the library, Target, Trader Joe’s and back again.

We took the girls to Jamestown, we went to see my parents, we went out for sushi with my brother and Morgan proceeded to eat her California rolls, Coever’s California rolls, my dragon roll and my mom’s Umi.  Then she asked for dessert (definitely my child).

I’ve gone to a baby shower, I’ve been to birthday parties, I’ve hung out with my girlfriends more than I have in months and I’m loving it.

I’ve been told I’m “too smokin’ hot” to wear flats all of the time, so I’m working heels into my wardrobe rotation.  Point of Clarification: You know you need to make some changes when you throw a pair of heels on with some jeans and folks start asking you why you’re all dressed up!

 Sadly, I did something to my knee last week, so I’ve been “keeping off of it” but really, that just means, I’ve scaled down from 20mph to about 18mph.

 I’ve been working on this post for two days!  More like eight if you count the six days it took me to organize this in my head.  I haven’t spell checked it either.

I’m just too busy.

Continue Reading
IN: ON: May 13, 2010 TAGS: , , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading

Take My Picture! Please!

Man, I’ve had this haircut for about 3 months now, and aside from one do-it-myself photo shoot with iPhoto, I’ve got no photographic evidence that anything’s changed.

Hey, remember me? 

Ugh, I need a new wardrobe person. . .

Speaking of which, a few months ago, I bought this fly looking dress from Dillards.  I had been there looking for something to wear to a semi-formal holiday event we had — so this puts us back in early December.  In a matter of minutes, I found just the dress I had in mind, in my size, and on sale.  Signs of the apocalypse, right?  I’m thinking the day couldn’t get any better, when I saw this other little dress on the rack.  And when I put it on, I felt like a million bucks, so I bought that one, too.  Even at full price.

Seriously, the dress didn’t look like much of anything on the hanger, but when I put it on, I literally started jumping up and down in the dressing room.  I mean, really plucking a dress off of the rack, trying it on without having to brace one leg against the door jamb in order to zip it up and having said dress make me feel like I could stop traffic? Things that like never happen to me.

When I came home with the dress, I told DH that he had to, had to, had to see me in this dress.  It was like I had Wonder Woman’s indestructible bracelets on. I felt like “Boom, Boom, Pow!”  I threw on my peep-toed pumps, slid into the dress (and I could still breathe), and was all, “Bring it, snitches!”  Woo, woo! To say that DH was impressed would be an understatement.
Yet, after my little fashion show, the dress went back on the hanger and into the closet, where it has remained, growing smaller and smaller with every passing day.  Don’t you know that your clothes shrink from non-use?  Why else does it take calisthenics and nerves of steel to fit into your summer clothes after a particularly lengthy winter?  Duh.
A few weeks would go by and I would take the dress out of the closet, lay it across my bed and think about how an article of clothing can change your whole mood.  Sometimes, I’d put it on and get a self-esteem boost.  Go ahead and laugh, I know that’s ridiculous.  Don’t forget, though, you’re talking to a girl that used to watch Must-See TV in her wedding gown in order to get the most use out of it. Seriously, sitting on the couch, surrounded by tulle and crinoline, watching NBC, and I was perfectly content (I’d only wear the veil on the week-ends).
But back to the present. Every time I opened the closet, I caught a glimpse of the dress, tags still on it.  And because I save everything, I pulled out the receipt, all set to march the dress back to Dillards where it probably belonged.  DH, however, convinced me to keep it.  I was less successful convincing him to take me out somewhere in it. 
So it sat in the closet, taunting me.  Steadily shrinking.  I thought about putting the dress on and doing the whole self-timer on the camera and snapping a few pics before the dress all but morphed into a hand-towel.  The truth is,  I’ve been pretty slack-tacular on wielding the camera lately.  The weather has been nice and we’ve been out and about doing some pretty cool photo-opportunity inducing things, but I just haven’t been the shutterbug that I used to be.  I think my Shutterfly account was terminated from lack of use.  
My mother-in-law had suggested some time ago that I have the girls Christmas photos re-taken.  Their dresses, while completely stunning, per usual, had been missing the accompanying accessories.  And then, it hit me!  
We’ll get the girls photos done again, but we’ll skip the Picture Peeps and hire a professional photographer.  We’ll make it a family affair.  I’ll get the girls dressed up, have DH put on his tux and I’ll wear the dress! Yay!  I have somewhere to go and I have something to wear — at the same time!  Incredible.  

So, that was two weeks ago and as for the dress. . .well, I’ve hyped it up so much, I hope you aren’t too disappointed.  Click here, but as soon as the photos come back, I’ll definitely share.  Unless of course the dress shrunk again during photo editing.

Hey, it could happen!

Continue Reading
IN: ON: April 2, 2010 TAGS: , , BY: Hilary
Continue Reading
1 … 10 11 12 13 14 15