Modern Mommy:

Divorced Time Is Like Dog Years

Begin a new post... that link haunts me these days.  So many great stories but some where along the move into my new zip code (7 mos ago - see what I mean about dog years?) I passed into this strange existence where I am constantly going back and forth between time as mommy and time spent waiting to be mommy again.  I have become quite the interesting animal.  You must know that there is several different types of time passage.  Single, young, never married, no kids time.  Married, kids time and divorced but with kids time just to name a few.  So as the latter of the three, I am back to keeping my late hours - watching and naming my neighbors, and navigating the fall out of the small unnamed online dating site my girlfriends thought would be a funny and subtle b-day gift.  Complete w/ profile and pic.  Nice.  No i have not gone on any blind dates.  Because folks - the odds of finding the right one are just slightly above what you might expect in Vegas.  SWF seeks sarcastic, sporty, educated, tall, hybrid driving, northern California liberal daddy type who likes long Sundays with the newspaper, NPR and two maple syrup sticky fingered toddler and preschool types.  Must like Hannah Montana, Pooh Bear, and sippy cups.

No recent sightings of cute, gap commercial, target shopping daddy guy who lives down the street.  But crazy, midnight car washer dude is outside like every night.  The other day he waved at me, in a rather friendly way, while getting his mail.  This is a good sign because maybe he does not know I was the concerned party who called the beloved police the night he was impressing us all with his stunning car stereo pyrotechnics.  Modern Preschooler was holding a new puppy belonging to pretty blond divorced neighbor the other day and the pup wriggled out of her hands and yelped a little when it landed.  In fairness, Modern preschooler had been doing shots of Red Bull all afternoon and like three hours of guitar hero so she was not her controlled and careful self.  Above mentioned blond neighbor lady was not pleased and now I avoid eye contact.  New neighbors moved in next door, seem like nice, quiet people with little 2 yr old boy. 

No sign of a meth lab, I think we are good.

Love Thy Neighbors

Three things Something I learned while I was too busy to accomplish the small and self affirming task of blogging... 

Even with several (and by several I mean like a LOT of) police officers living on my street and in my subdivision in general - it still take approx. 1 hr for them to respond to a noise complaint.  This is actually impressive, I know that many of you might be living in a place where such things would be laughed at by local law enforcement, but on my little piece of land, of the relatively quiet midwestern persuasion - noise complaints still gather a bit of attention from our worthy friends in blue.  Upon returning home from work on Friday night I encountered my neighbor (not cute, gap commercial, daddy guy - exactly zero sightings of late) in his driveway, washing his car.  Now this was neither noisy nor particularly unusual except I do not get  off work on Fridays until midnight.  I remember thinking this would make for at least one interesting blog paragraph.  I stumbled into the house, and fell asleep somewhere between the laundry hamper and my pillow.  About 2am the music started.  Note: I live in a townhouse, that stands among rows of identical townhouses, that stand on a street lined with, say it with me... townhouses.  We all live pretty close together and if any of you had ever seen me throw a ball you would appreciate it when i tell you that I could hit any of my fellow townhouse dwellers with a casual toss from my front porch.  Crazy, midnight, car washer dude was now sitting in his clean car, parking lights on, windows down (rather cool that night) listening to what any reasonable ford owner must conclude only to be a custom stereo system at a volume slightly louder than inappropriate to the wee hour.  I think I yelled out my window, and i won't repeat what I might have yelled but this of course did nothing.  He must have decided it was getting cold because he backed into his garage, shut the door and turned up the music a bit.  'Bout and hour or so later the blessed police banged on his garage door until he emerged.  I saw his pathetic attempt at damage control as he reached out to the police officer.  They shook hands like they had just shared potato salad at the church picnic.  A little chit chat, he went back inside, music stopped, police left.  Ahhh, now i can enjoy the 5 hours that are left until I have to be up for work.  Over all, one hour for this type of relief would not top the charts if you were say, a spinal block.  But as for non emergency police response I give it three out of four stars. 

There were several other noteworthy things that happened this week, however I feel a bit uninspired after the predictable romantic comedy I paid movie theater money for tonight.  So lets catch up later, when the creative, and profoundly shallow tide pools of sarcasm I usually wade around in have again filled to their mediocre brim proving that sometimes seemingly small and insignificant things are exactly that.

Dinner And A Movie

Cold turkey sandwich, hot caffe mocha and a shortbread cookie.  A huge cookie.  27 Dresses.  I am so old.  But i feel like an impostor in an adult's body.  I feel older than the 5 teenage girls sitting behind us, but so much younger than the face i see under the harsh movie theater bathroom lights.  Like I am just babysitting or something.  I am the youngest 32 yr old ever.  Read: Immature.  But in a totally got it together kind of way.

Most incredible person I will never meet: Diane Keaton.  You Must Read... the Feb 2008 LHJ article... she is amazing, beautiful and what I would dream up if i did not already belong to the best mother in the world.

The Modern Girls are healthy again, the kitchen sink is working nicely and the literal pain in my ass has subsided for now.  Nothing i cannot handle. 

Should i care that most of my i's are not capitalized?  Sometimes they are, sometimes i do not care.  Can perfection and OCD strike randomly?  I don't care what you say, my own personal idea of narcolepsy  is hilarious - its just that I sometimes doze off when I should be paying attention.

I have temporarily put coherent story telling on hold.  But I am still dancing in my kitchen at night, falling in love with the girls almost every day and alternating pizza rolls with chicken and vegetables.

Have you heard Joshua Radin?  Good movie soundtrack turned me on.  Check 'im out.  Also, am I too old to be buying Plain White T's CDs?? 

It is that thing where I feel like it is still 1998 and I am this cool 20 something who knows all the things I know now... like the love of mother and child, the heartbreak of a real life broken heart and the pride of finally calming my fears of growing up.  I mean I read the books, drive to the ballet class and buy the good diapers.  There are healthy snacks in my house and the view from my rear view window gets me all teary when the two little hands reach across and hold on tight.

I remember you now.  Happiness.  It is has been a while since we were in the same place at the same time, but i am profoundly relieved to see you again.  Confidence?  Yeah, glad you are here too.  We used to make a pretty cute couple, what do you say we try this again?

If you are reading this and you get it, comment up the place.   

Post Script:

To: The 7 people I know
Re: Google Ads
CC: Everyone who stops by my blog
BCC: Cute Gap Commercial, Target Shopping Daddy Guy who lives on my street...

I'm like this free single mom (interested in dating) who gets paid to blog while saving money on quality brand name adult diapers.

Insert photo here.

Wanna have a cup of coffee?  Read: Eddie Izzard Dressed to Kill

XOXO

MM

PPS  I am loving this blog I tripped over recently.  Divorced (You had me at hello) Mommy Blogger: Sanity and The Solo Mom's Kimberly Rastin.   She now writes for The Daily Mom.  I am so digging the way this cool woman looks at life AND the thoughtful fans who pluck thoughts right out of my head and claim them as their own.  This site is like caffine with out the jitters and I am hooked.  little exerpt from a comment... "I suppose what defines "single parent" for me is when my children do something absolutely great, or something really funny, or causes me concern - I don't share it with their father, but rather with my own parents." 

Yes!!  I feel that too!  Even if you do not relate to the divorced scene, this blog and it's readers will make you feel validated and real. 

What's Next...

Will Smith and flesh eating zombies.  Good times.

Saw I am Legend last night with MM's Divorced Neighbor Friend, who will hence forth be known as the coolest person I have met since I became Modern Slightly Divorced Mommy, or MSDM.  Part time personal therapist, part time could almost be a certified paralegal, this all goes above and beyond the call of neighborly responsibilities.  Note to self: must buy said neighbor a potted plant, jumper cables or something I may want to drop by and borrow. 

PBS Sprout, friend or foe?  We will be exploring this and much more as I begin a weekly special report entitled Things That Make My Eyes Bleed: The New Hampshire Primary, Bad Haircuts Right Before Picture Day and The Growing Shortage of Toddler Underwear.  Also a new season of the widely acclaimed Modern Mommy exclusive: Tune In Tuesdays.  I have crossed the picket lines to bring you this original series, writer's guild be dammed.

This Had Better Be Good

Since i have been off the air for so long you would think my first post back might be worth the wait.  This is highly unlikely and if you are looking for a blog entry roughly on par with the recent DVD release of the latest installment of the Bourne trilogy, you may want to change the channel. 

Here is my latest theory.  Divorce is a lot like a Dyson vacuum.  The latest technology in sucking.  Life sucking.  As in sucking the joy, happiness and meaning out of life.  Ok, so there is rather a lot of joy after divorce... and happiness.  Also meaning.  Sleeping through the night is easier.  And if you snore, who cares?  Not to mention that I can feel free to rest my head on my left hand and not worry about those pesky and embarrassing wedding ring imprints on my face.   I got custody of the Dyson in our settlement, so you can rest as ease knowing that my divorced floors are clean.  Which might very well have been one of the reasons my failing marriage failed so spectacularly... I never vacuumed when i had the chance.  How i regret this.

Modern Toddler and Modern Pre-Schooler provide my life with all the joy and meaning a person could reasonably ask for in the world today.  I hesitate to admit this, but I think divorce might actually be making me a better mom.  So let's see... clean floors, better parent, much less laundry (which truth be told I never did much of in my past married life - another symptom?) maybe there is in fact life after divorce.  I am getting paid for every time I type divorce and I figure if i drop the word enough it will feel normal and painless.

So far that is not working out so well.      

Must See TV

Commercials I am digging...

Clear Blue Easy Home Preggers Test:  "...this may be the most sophisticated piece of equipment you will ever pee on..."

Hyundai:  "The Big Duh Sales Event"

ps I recently found out that my blog is Rated R for content.  The spiders that crawled my page found the word breast 8 times, oops 9.  Technically it is now 10.  I am going to clean up my act and run it again.

Fish And Breast Feeding

So, Modern Fish is not so bright.  I cannot say for sure, as I do not have any scale on which a person might grade fish intelligence.  I imagine there is one, a scale I mean, not an intelligent fish.  Although they must have those somewhere too.  We keep our below average fish in a little tank in the kitchen.  As I have mentioned I assume him to be a bit dim and cannot say for sure how he feels (if he does) about the parade of tuna, salmon and various other deceased relatives going from boiling pot to plate right before his seemingly blank eyes. 

Also unfortunately for poor little Nemo, August is World Breast Feeding month.  Which is a bummer for the fish because not only is he a HE, but he is alone in the tank and has little or no opportunity to breast feed.  Plus fish do not lactate.  A fish would look weird with breasts, yes?  How many times can a person mention mammary glands in one post.  Once again I will be rocketed into blog fame with my key words today.  I am quite a believer in breast feeding and spent the first 12 months of both my daughters lives doing exactly that.  The rest of the Modern Family can find much pride and accomplishment.  But how inconvenient a celebration for the fish. 

The Great Garage Door Caper And The Mystery Of The Missing Keys

Another common and usual Wednesday when the sun came up this morning.  Modern Pre-schooler off to Montessori and Modern Toddler and I left to start our day.  Breakfast, Sesame Street, Slim Fast for Mommy, a little CNN and the little miss plays on the floor.  We decide there is an errand or two to run and off we go.  After the post office, the bank and the grocery store we make home in time for lunch.  More work in the kitchen, some news, a bit of an addiction actually, and more play time for Modern Toddler with her baby doll and shopping cart.  This is serious business - pushing baby doll around and must be done with extreme care.  She rarely charges walls or flips over the cart, or at least this never seems to be her intention.  With M&C happily boiling on the stove, I head off to pull a few things out of the deep freeze in the garage.  Hmmm, the door is up.  I swear I remember putting it down. 

One thing we should get straight... some of the meds I am on have this nasty little side affect called failed short term memory.  What this little phrase is referring to is, for example, this last weekend when Modern Hubby asked me to put the noodles into the chicken soup while he was gone.  In an effort to compensate for my failing memory, he not only set the box of pasta right on top of the microwave ledge, but as we lugh about hese measures, he set the timer so that hopefully when it goes off I will see the bright yellow box and remember my only task while he is away.  I did remember, in fact it was about 2 minutes before the timer went off even.  So proud of myself and lost in this successful moment, I put in about half the box.  Please remember that I used to be smart, articulate, thoughtful and had an amazing photographic memory.  Now I need timers and bright yellow objects to pass through the fog that is my current existence.  So, after adding half the box, I (shamefully) thought that it did not look full enough.  I have been cooking all my life, and I am no slouch in the kitchen thanks to my dad who is a fantastic cook and passed along a few things.  I, of course add the whole box, feeling sure I had made the right call.  About an hour and a half, when Modern Hubby came home for dinner we noticed that the entire box of noodles had sucked up all the broth and left us with delicious chicken, noodles - lots of noodles, and carrots.  Very lucky for me, Modern Hubby laughed and I was relieved to have dodged the bullet.

This is why I cannot be completely sure with out doubt that I put the door down.  After lunch and some cleaning, I gathered up some left over trash from the giant 50" high def plasma TV explosion that hit our life last Saturday.  Opening the door to lay trash in the garage, I notice the door is up again.  This time I will be sure.  I hit the button and walk behind the mini van to make sure I had pulled in far enough and was not triggering the door sensor, telling the door to go back up.  The door closes with out incident.  Ok, maybe I am  as ill as they all say and I write this off to insanity.  After clean up and more shopping cart crashes, I start separating ground beef into freezer bags to add to the deep freezer.  Once more I go into the garage to find... wait for it... the door is up again.  Am I the target of some evil plot?  Some person playing on my weak memory and failing mind?  This time I go looking for the key chain that carries a small garage door opener along with a spare set of keys to our Honda Hybrid that Modern Hubby drives. 

The key chain is missing.

I am now ignoring the garage door and searching for the keys, positive that they are the (pun ahead) key to this mystery.  Maybe if I can close the door with the smaller opener (why do that they call it an opener when it closes the door too?) then I can watch it quietly through the crack of the door and see what the heck is going on.  Convinced that the door has a mind of it's own (the only reasonable explanation) and I will surely catch it in the act. 

Still can't find the keys, until I hear the garage door going up again.  I rush out to foil the dastardly plan and apprehend the culprit when I notice Modern Toddler coming around the corner with baby doll sitting up in the shopping cart.  Assuming it is a Binky clutched in her little hand, I throw open the door and stand there confused.

By now the jig is up and I naturally look down to see Modern Toddler grinning as she pushes the buttons on the garage door remote.  Keys found, mystery solved, Modern Mommy again feeling very silly because this is not even the first time the little sneak found the remote.  As embarrassing as this story is to recall, it is the material we all search for in our daily lives as Mommies and my desire to share what I have learned, far out weighs my shame at my part in this drama.  Happy Mommy Blogging.

Little Household Disasters, Happy Thoughts and Nonsensical Ramblings

There was the ketchup and mustard fiasco this afternoon at lunch.  I am not saying it will never come out of the hardwood floor, it's just that the next owners of this lovely house might want to do something about it.  Cut myself on another eggshell.  I believe that I have offended the blogging gods again by not properly siting my sources on that little adventure in plagiarism I like to call the "egg post"  What?  It's not like I am planning to take over the world or anything.  Smile and wave boys, smile and wave.  No less than 2 birds dive bombed our big windows this morning, you can't that get that kind of live action on animal planet.  But how about this not so little fellow?  He just wondered through our yard like he was headed some where important and we were in the way.

Now in other news, Modern Baby Doll is no where to be found today, I got home from work last night and it had disappeared.  No sign of the poor thing this morning.  Thank goodness Modern Toddler has not noticed.  Of course i would not know whether or not she noticed because she cannot talk.  Maybe she is distraught, maybe she does not like scrambled eggs and eats them to please me.  What if peek-a-boo isn't really all that funny?  It's like those people who assume they know what their dog is thinking.  I am not comparing Modern Toddler to a dog, or myself to people who think dogs have complex human like  thoughts... this is getting confusing.  My point is this, I forgot trash day again and soon enough it will pile up so high we will have to park the cars on the front lawn.  What is so complicated about remembering trash one day a week?  Just your daily dose of memory loss. 

Happy thoughts for today.  Lots of hugs and kisses from Modern Pre-schooler today, I just love Tuesdays and Thursdays.  I totally miss the kid when she goes to school.  Lots of fun today with our friends and the weekly playdate.  Splashing around in the wading pool, toddlers running naked in the sun, chicken nuggets and plenty of fun for all.  Gotta love days like this, and all days that I get to be just mom.

Ragu And The Washing Machine Chronicles

50 things about myself was totally exhausting.  I feel like the mental equivalent of tossed salad, so I cannot be responsible for the quality of today's post.  The truth is that I did break a glass jar of Ragu at Super Target.  They sure are super too.  I love those shopping lists that include, pasta sauce, a Brad Paisley CD, laundry soap and planting soil.  It's all at Super Target.  Do you thing Target wants to advertise on a little ole blog like mine?  Looks like they just got it for free.  And Brad Paisley.  I am gonna go broke marketing w/ out pay.  So the sauce was everywhere, the glass was everywhere and all I can say is thank goodness I had two kids in my cart cause I would have felt pretty embarrassed.

NASA has now made several attempts to purchase my washing machine after reports of the spin cycle being visible from space.  I have explained that is what happens when you place a motor from a small nuclear reactor into a 1999 Amana washer.  The thing goes into some sort of hyper drive and the clothes are clean and finished two days before I got them dirty.  It agitates and spins itself silly with this high pitched whistle.  Which, were it not for the regular sounds of the train that blows through our neighbor hood several times a day and night, might be confused for a locomotive.   

Are my favorite 7 readers are well this beautiful summer Thursday?  Just wanted to say hello to Texas, Iowa, and Virgina.  Pennsylvania, Florida, Kansas and New York.  Tennessee, Michigan and Oregon.  Hope that where ever you all are in the blogsphere, you are lucky enough to have friends and readers like mine.  Thanks LA Daddy for such an rock solid guest post for Tune Tuesdays!  Have a blog?  Want to write a guest post for Modern Mommy?  Leave me a note when you pass through, let me know your funny appliance stories, the crazy stuff your kids say, or your struggles and success with your own "monster du jour".  Here is a little more about mine, here and here. 

What Are You Doing Here? It's Saturday.

Dear Internet,

Fighting OCD-like need to blog everyday. Going to treat myself and family to a vacation from reality. Let's just skip to the part where I say some funny clever stuff. More references to poultry, scrapbooking and Van Morrison. Another joke or two. A link here to some other blogger I worship and/or am trying to gain more site traffic by shamelessly name dropping. More funny stories. Nice tie in to the title and one last pun.

Sincerely, Me

PS Have a great long weekend!

Overheard in the Midwest, Cliches, Long Since Expired Quotes, Unfortunate Cookies and Other Equally Stupid Things.

Wow. Not much point in even posting with a title like that... Pretty sure I am taking all this too seriously. So, since all my creative efforts went into my craptacular title I will just share some tasty little nuggets of stupidity from my day. My own blundering McComments included, for the low, low price of 3 or 4 minutes of your valuable time. Maybe 5.

Overheard today.
"It may be time to up the Ant" As in the little crawling bugs?
Also said by the same silly man:
"... people sometimes manipulate and triangulate you." Seriously? Shouldn't they locate my exact coordinates before they begin said manipulation?

This time a silly woman.
"... and all of a sudden I was gradually getting better!" I am not even touching that one.

Ridiculous Motivational Thoughts from equally craptastic, so not Chris Farley-ish motivational person I met last week. "Life is not a struggle, it is a wiggle!" and "Stressed is just Desserts spelled backwards!" I threw up a little in my mouth just then.

Then, last and hopefully least, a little taste of my own completely humiliating and almost not even funny daily misspeak. Said to someone who is an actual alcoholic (unbeknownst to me) who's previous explanation of this fact was characteristically missed by me as I was flapping my own mouth at the very same moment.
"... so hypothetically (meant to be a metaphor) it's like you were in bar, but not drinking?" Did I mention that was me talking? I am such a comprehensive ass.

And here is my 3 year old daughter's official fortune as told by a cookie. "Next summer, you will dance to a different beat." I so hope not because she does this little thing we call The Crazy Butt Dance and it is truly hysterical. She is currently working to trademark the move and spends much of her free time, shaking it to the beat and instructing her younger sister to do the same while she commands: "you like to move it, move it!" We are just doing our best to keep them off the pole.

You are Probably Not Going to Want To Read This Post Either.

There are only so many...

Ideas, song titles, cliches, catch phrases or plans for blog posts. Sooner or later you reach a point when not a single square inch of your brain (what's left of mine) is capable of anything even approaching the vicinity of creative, witty or clever. Tonight is the night. Actually it may have started yesterday, but it was too hard to tell, what with all the prescription drugs I was doped up on... I blogged under the influence. We have all done it. Written the post we cannot remember, the one we consider deleting from the archives. I personally have too much OCD controlling my intense need for a post for each calendar date of the year to actually delete. Of course, it is possible to rewrite, but that is cheating and is beneath me. However, selecting a category, adding a title and then publishing the post just before midnight in order to "save the date" for your post (that OCD again) is most certainly a second cousin to cheating. But only by marriage. Wait until you meet the redheaded step child who is always kicking you under the folding card table at the family 4th of July picnic and spraying the crotch of your pants with the super soaker. Internet, meet Bipolar with just a touch of anxiety and anger. No one likes that kid.

My advice to you, of course, would be not to read this post. At least, stop here. At best this will be a pathetic attempt to call up some last minute, cheap humor. Blogging about writer's block is definitely the bottom the barrel as far I am concerned. Not worth your precious time. You could be growing hair, playing solitaire on your cell phone or watching your fan gently blow your cobwebs across the corner of your vaulted master bedroom ceiling. I hear that last one is good. My point is this: You do not have to be a mindless member of the collective. Never thinking for yourself, just carelessly squandering your free time reading a blog post that is nothing but random hits in the thesaurus. I spelled that wrong and had to look it up in the dictionary. See what I mean about empty post filler material? Lots of calories but very little substance or nutritional value.

No worries, there will be plenty of nothing and nowhere to talk about tomorrow. Same inconvenient time, same boring place, same mediocre material.

Radio Silence

An apple a day... Is really complete crap because we eat a ton of apples and every single member of my family is ridiculously ill.  I started it, and so goes most events in our little household.  Can't keep a bit of food down, fever, chills, lost desire for chocolate, Van Morrison and the two weeks of DVR'd Gray's Anatomy and October Road episodes (you know this is bad).  I took a little trip to the ER Monday night for some further exposure in the waiting room, (so many blog post ideas, so little energy) IV fluids, blood work and they threw in a cat scan which I found downright thoughtful.  I am happy to report that I left the hospital with all the bodily organs I went in with.  It would appear that some random virus has crawled into our lives and set up shop.  The little bastard then called a few friends and is currently holding some sort of viral casting call for MTV"s House Party.  First me, the Modern Hubby.  Next Modern Baby and most recently Modern Toddler.  Who has been sharing her stomach contents with the floor, a tall blue bucket with which we will never wash a car again, various towels and bed sheets and of course Modern Mommy and Daddy's wardrobe.  This is just about every hour on the hour and she seems to have gotten the worst of it.  I spent a few quality hours on the bathroom floor Monday night myself, before we headed to the hospital but she is has out vomited us all.  We have hung crosses and garlic, warned neighbors and friends to stay clear and have considered strategically placing candles to ward off the evil spirit, but so far have restrained ourselves and focused on fever reducing suppositories, anti-nausea pills and the occasional gentle laxative when needed.  We also believe that if none of us shower or brush our teeth this will surely speed the healing process.

It's really a shame I cannot set my blog to scroll public service announcements with light classical music playing in the background when I will not be posting for a while.  This service could be sponsored by the Ketchup Advisory Board.  Ketchup has natural mellowing agents that aid the immune system and speed recovery. 

I might have posted a line or two a few days ago, but mysteriously my IBook has some sort of rare illness as well and shortly after booting up, the screen freezes and then these creepy little wavy lines start to distort the screen image as if I had opened one of those joke emails that starts to erase your hard-drive.  So I am in bed, no laptop, no DVR'd episodes (downstairs cable box) and no real connection to the outside world.  Last I remember, there was some unrest in the middle east, Anna Nicole Smith's funeral plans were not going well and either McDreamy or McSteamy was having an affair with some intern...

I really need go to lie down.

You Are Currently Viewing My Life

Welcome new readers!
You may either:
A Play from the beginning (very long story but might explain a lot, also the earlier days were a bit funnier)
B Resume from where we are now (less work, way more confusion) or...
C Exit this site in search of a Blog containing one or more of the following themes: humor, happiness or personal hygiene.

-You should avoid prolonged or excessive exposure to direct and/or artificial sunlight while reading this blog.
-Check with your doctor if you plan to become pregnant while reading this blog.
-Do not read this blog if have ever had an allergic reaction to any other pain reliever.
-If you consume 3 or more alcoholic drinks every day, ask your doctor whether you should be reading this blog.
-Side effects of reading this blog may include but are not limited to: excessive drowsiness, dry mouth, difficulty breathing or shortness of breath, vomiting, impaired ability to concentrate or focus, boredom, frequent urination, divorce, severe swelling of the pancreas, loss of interest in activities once enjoyed, and in rare cases, death.

Overheard in the Midwest:
Modern Toddler while examining the photos from our visit to the Zoo this weekend, "Mommy! You are the bestest! This is my favorite lion picture ever! Oh my gosh, mommy! This is the bestest rhino in the world!"

Don't Even Bother Reading This Post

Seriously, you really should tweeze your eye brows, or maybe clean out the lint trap in the dryer. Hey, check out my archives! I wrote some pretty decent stuff on occasion. Today, though total crap. If you are new to my blog, I am truly sorry to welcome you on a day so completely void of creativity and originality. Everything about today was ordinary. Modern Toddler off to pre-school w/ out incident. Modern Baby, another dr. appt., another ear infection. Poor kid, you as much as frown in the direction of her left ear and we are off to the pharmacy. To the store, to the bank, Modern Husband watching baseball on TV, nice dinner (recipe MH is obsessed with, we might have had it a few too many times for me) blah, blah, blah... Sorry I dozed off there for a second, where were we? Right ordinary. Put away laundry, lots more blah, blah, blah. If you could dump wasted potential and good intentions into those change machines that give you back cash, I would still be ordinary, but with a fabulous handbag. What I think about irony is this, Give me a flippin' break! There have been so many less than good days around here in the last say 6 mos (give or take 5 years). Days when MH and I were desperate for ordinary. Now that I think about it, I have always gravitated towards drama of any kind. Even those dark days were at least not boring. I am bored. Profoundly sick of myself. That is the real problem when one embarks on a journey to blog about one's self. The distinct possibility of having nothing whatsoever of value to say. Tomorrow is another day right? Of course it is, I hate it when people spew such little nuggets of obvious truth. Some people have that positive vibe, and some people don't. Maybe I am just not cut out for optimism. I can't believe I have dragged on and on about nothing this long. I am going to lay in bed, stare at the ceiling and try to think of something boring to write about tomorrow.

Almost Too Angry to Type...

I am having a Mac moment. I had just finished a brilliant post. Seriously. Funny, smart - just the right amount of serious and sarcastic... and oh, we are just so sorry but Safari had an error and shut down, would you like to reopen? Would I like to reopen? On any other day this piece of "machinery" would have been the first, unmanned flying desk set. I still can't look down at the keys and help noticing how aerodynamic the whole thing is... The funny part, the "I don't care what you say the universe has a sick, ironic and perverse sense of humor" kind of funny part is that I was writing a post about happiness and optimism. Yes, me! Now, I do have a sinus infection, head and chest cold, some sort of deep, pathetic cough sounding as if sea-lions were mating... and I am also on new meds, which I was assured would not have their desired affect for a couple of weeks. Sure you might say that a dramatic change in tune could be attributed to many things. I surely don't want to alienate my base here, I am devoted to all 8 of my readers. But i admit that I was feeling a little positive attitude creeping into my brain and i thought, now who can I share that with? Internet, meet a happier more positive ME. It's not like I was moving towards any type of bright light or anything. I know that depression, failure and the sarcastic dark side is what sells these days. I have always thought a little honest self loathing was funnier than so many of these happy people I see at the park with strollers, lattes and the latest outfit from the Talbots commercial. Ok that is another issue all together. But to rip such a post from my fingers? And do you know what I was doing, opening another window to check the spelling of David Hasselhoff's name!!! Don't ask, I had expertly written him in, perfect product placement, and for that i am denied? Ok, well now I can make my point. Anger VS happiness. I sit comfortably on the fence where most things are concerned. From my vantage point the grass is equally green on either side, thus my dilemma. One day happy and positive, dark and cruel the next. As it turns out there is a well known disorder that bears striking resemblance to these type of mood swings, but I digress. i am so bitter! My typing may start to suffer because I was "spell checked, took my nighty night pills, turned the TV off" kind of finished when The Mac broke my heart. I am now operating heavy, and dammed dang aerodynamic looking machinery while medicated. Internet, can you feel my pain? All I wanted to do was tell you about this new fantastic friend I made. Smart, funny and totally real. Impressive, but not in an unapproachable way. She's coming over tomorrow night for a sleep-over. We are going to braid each other's hair, make friendship bracelets, watch 80's movies and eat pizza rolls. We are like so going to be BFF!

I know that moments like this only serve to perpetuate the myth that bad things happen to good people. Or that bad things happen to good, if not misled, PC people. Maybe i put my The Mac (I need some distance right now) on too high a pedestal? Set impossible expectations? Now there is something I know a little about, my book comes out in the fall... wouldn't it be great if that were true? I want to say that someday and mean it. No, no, you are too kind. I'm here 'till Thursday, try the veal!

I am going to sign off before I break into song. I am less happy, less optimistic that the universe was throwing me a bone. And those, this life is a test thoughts are creeping in... If by starting over with little or no violence directed at The Mac, i am passing some sort of test, then yay me. Truthfully, the first post might have been better. But we will never know! And why doesn't the spell check on a Mac have a "correct all" choice, what if i am a chronic bad speller? A repeat offender who shamelessly uses the same word over and over, (get it? repeat offender? Ok the pills have kicked in) then having the nerve to butcher it beyond recognition? And why can't you right click on a Mac? I am filing this post under optimism. That vein in my forehead is popping out again.

30 Going on 13

It's 11 o'clock on a school night and I'm at a party... this is so cool!

Actually the scratchy throat from this morning is now just about swollen shut and I feel like the New York Rangers are hosting a scrimmage match in my sinuses. And as awful as I feel, it a sort of glorious way I am lucky because now that I have finally finished breast-feeding (sniffle) I can load up on all the cold/flu remedies that are such a no-no whilst the little one was imbibing everything I was. So my hormones are soaring, I am feeling particularly sad and completely worried that i will just be an angry, yet witty and clever, miserable remnant of my former self, forever. Good friends tell me that it all gets better. And the right meds can make you an actual human again. This is what I am shooting for... I want to be recognized as an ordinary person, rather than a horrific science experiment in hormonal, human captivity gone very, off the charts wrong.

My posts have a distinctly whiny feel these days. Stay tuned all, more happy pills are on the way. In the mean time, attention stressed out mommies: Deep breath, you do not have to be perfect super mom, turn down the voices and have a latte on me. No one really does their hair for carpool or the grocery store. Down with the fake moms. Although I want the boyfriend trouser (Dammit Gap) and the Wrinkle De-Crease Collagen Filler by Loreal Paris... because evidently we are worth it.

Message in a Bottle

Not those Police, I can only dream. So I mean the uniformed, squad car driving, gun carrying, serving and protecting police knocked on our door around 2 am this morning. Stop me if you have heard this one.

Seriously, this did happen. The saddest part of this rather boring story, is that it is not the first time, or even second or third. Here is the deal. We live in a nice, small town. Surrounded by on many sides, by larger less nice places. The police patrol our subdivision on a very regular basis and we have always appreciated their efforts to make this a safe place to live and raise a family. However, I am almost positive that, should we ever actually need to call them to our home in an emergency (knock on wood), they surely know which house is which. Ok, can't drag this out any longer. We have this nasty habit of leaving our garage door open. That's it. So they drive by this open, dark garage and decide they better check it out. How great is that? Only real problem, other than the hate mail I will get from our neighbors at how their tax dollars are being spent, is that these patrols do not encounter our carelessness until sometime after midnight. The first time, my folks were visiting from Oregon. Doorbell rings at 2-am, my dad goes down to answer it. Yikes. I think that might have been the same visit the power company knocked on the door, again my father answered, to inform us our service was being "interrupted" due lack of pymt. For the record, this was an error on their part, and it was corrected with one phone call. So back to our trouble with the law. They ring the bell, knock furiously etc. I was pretty freaked out that first time. The second time, I did not immediately connect the dots, and was again totally rattled, whisper-yelling to my husband not to answer it until we know what the hell is going on. Ever since, I am slightly less shocked when the doorbell jars me out of sleep. I am glad they take this seriously, and despite the embarrassment and drama that follows in settling the kids back down, I appreciate their efforts.

So there are the visits from the power company (obvious truck) the regular visits from the appliance repair truck (read the washing machine chronicles here and here) the police at all hours, and oh yeah did I mention 2 separate visits from Animal Control? I will save that for another bad day when I wish to complain about the unknown neighbor who goes out of their way to make us miserable.

The Misadventures of Joe the Vaseline Washing Machine Repair Man

Raise your hand if you are tired of hearing about the "washing machine chronicles"...  Ok, put them down.  You could not possibly be more annoyed than me, shame on you... so selfish.   So after a blissful week or so of clean clothes going from washer to dryer without incident there was a bit of a hiccup.  Something was not right, the clothes were way to wet to go into the dryer. 

The washer actually tried to cover up this fact by cleverly allowing the dial to move completely through the rinse and spin settings providing the illusion that the clothes had in fact been washed, rinsed and spun sufficiently.  I can only assume that having it's front panel shamelessly pried open, and it's inner workings laid out for the strange repair man to see was too much for the appliance to bear one more time.  And in true 8 yr. old fashion, it resorted to deception in an effort to avoid another "session" with Joe.  Internet, meet Joe.  Joe is the repair man who has practically taken up residence in our hallway.  He has been to our home many times since January when the first signs of trouble sent us to friends houses, our mini-van overflowing with laundry and dryer sheets, for dinner and a spin cycle in true weekend home from college fashion.  We have gotten to know Joe very well, so well in fact that we reached the intimately crucial "do you keep any Vaseline laying around the house?" conversation that rocketed us from slightly familiar acquaintances to up close and personal friends.  During one of Joe's frequent visits, he emerged from the laundry room (actually just a closet) and asked if I had any Vaseline.  Apparently, the directions called for Vaseline and he did not have any in the truck.  Probably a good sign as far as strangers in your home go, I prefer the non-lubricant carrying kind.  This was a uncomfortable question for Joe to ask, more uncomfortable for me to respond.  I mumbled something about the tube of "stuff" we used on the baby's rectal thermometer and it most likely being water soluble and therefore not suitable for industrial use.  In a matter a few moments, I had exchanged conversation with this relative stranger that included the words lubricant and rectal.  I was mortified that i had volunteered such information and was pretty glad when he left that day, as least i won't have to see him again.  As if my humiliation was not complete, he joked as he left on the following visit, that the neighbors would start to talk if his truck was parked in my driveway again.  Not funny.  Until today.  Truck in my driveway again, and here we are.  Modern toddler and Modern baby just smile and nod at him as if he belongs here.  He proceeded to replace a broken belt, which he had predicted would break, but our customer service driven insurance company wanted to play the "wait until it does and we can get another deductible out of them" game.  Modern Daddy was having none of that, and after a few choice words, they dispatched Joe with out further out of pocket for us.  Now the washing machine spins with a fury of a thousand washers, almost rocking itself out into the hall and down the stairs.  It's a lot like putting a Mustang engine into a riding lawn mower.  Joe's current theory is that the bad transmission put too much stress on the motor, and we should expect that to quit working sometime soon as well.  Lovely.

Spin Baby

The sun is shining! Over 70 degrees, windows open, ceiling fans flying. Do I ever need this weather. It has been a long, hard, and depressing winter. I actually feel better just seeing the sun. You can take the girl out of California...

Driven to Distraction

I cannot seem to settle on a thought. My mind is jumping from idea to idea, and taking me for a ride today. Nervous energy, restless mind... I can’t get comfortable in my own skin and I have this feeling that I am supposed to be somewhere, doing something else. So I left the kids with daddy for the afternoon to be alone, recover from a long two weeks with little or no time to myself. I have been in and out of most of my favorite places the last few hours, none of them were right. Even walking the floor at Archivers, I still felt off. How can rows of American Crafts ribbon sets not set your heart beating? Literally neck high in Bazill card stock and i was still trying to put my finger on why I could not relax. I do tend to struggle to fight off a little guilt when I am alone. I suppose I have a harder time than most shifting gears out of mommy mode. I certainly have plenty to do, a library of thoughts to catalog and organize. My mind swims when I focus in on a idea, and I so look forward to a little time on my own to execute some of these grand plans. The current distraction is the design for my blog banner or masthead photo shoot. Oh the details. Feng Shui meets motherhood. Part Pottery Barn, part OCD anonymous, this layout is inspired mostly by things already in my home, and all say something about me. I am hoping to convince a great photographer friend of mine to marry her artistry and my manic plotting to coax this image out of my head and on to film. I am a bit consumed by this layout, and I am hoping my scavenger hunt today for additional items will calm the frenzy and I can get back to counting the dust bunnies who have taken up residence on the blades of our ceiling fan, growing hair and otherwise wasting my already unproductive time alone. In this case a picture is worth about 10 words, and having said them all, I best move on. The photo should be up soon enough and there will be, I am sure, much more analysis. In the mean time I am way over do for nice, juicy list. Here are a few other things that happened in my world recently.

1. Sasha on the way home from school: “One of my friends pushed me...”
me: “which one honey?”
sasha: “... the one with the silly hat and blue coat”
2. I went to the bank to get a few documents notarized and was regaled with a tale of the teller’s husband’s girlfriend. TMI lady, TMI.
3. The washing machine is no longer leaking water.
4. The freezer is making a ridiculously loud noise that sounds a lot like money falling out of our bank account.
5. Lauren took 4 steps, stopped to steady herself and think about her thumb, then took 3 more steps before resuming the more efficient crawl.
6. I made an amazingly impressive dinner this week: mustard crusted fish with sage and roasted garlic mashed potatoes.
7. In case this was not clear in #6, I rock in the kitchen.
8. I spilled blueberries all over the kitchen floor while making a completely stupid point to my husband thus slightly limiting my ability to “rock in the kitchen”
9. I donated to a really incredible charity and feel great, want to do more!
10. I was in and out of my favorite scrapbooking store and spent less than $10.

M.F.E.O.

"It"s cute, it's like a little clue!"

I liked it so much I made it a category. Now what to ramble on and on about on this Monday? The weekend is supposed to be rest from and for the week, yes? Hubby flew to OR and drove back in our new car. I am a bit tired from 3 days alone with the girls. We are the proud owners of a white Honda Civic Hybrid. She is lovely, 2875 lbs. and 176 inches. This is impressive considering she is only 3 yrs. old. She is a little scruffy from her long trip. She saw a nice piece of the United states on her journey to her new home. OR, ID, WY, UT... some other ones in the middle, also NE and of course MO. I think a hybrid will fit in just perfectly in our commuting family. She gets amazing mileage and we just couldn't be more pleased. Unless of course she was a brand new, super duty (or whatever it's called) big, shiny, manly truck, which was also a hybrid that also got 450 miles to it's 12 gallon tank. Such a vehicle might earn the above title.

The washing machine repair man, Joe, (not joking) is becoming quite a familiar fixture (pun fully intended) around here. Last week, after making lots of repair sounding noises in my laundry room, he came out to ask me "Do you have any Vaseline?" Having never been asked this question, in the context of appliance repair or any other context for that matter, I carefully considered my answer. In the end, I decided to reply in kind, and asked him "How hard was it for you to ask that question?" This immediately put us both more at ease. He admitted he had no idea how to make such a request, and explained that the instructions (he's reading instructions?) specifically called for Vaseline and he had never come across this before, and did not have any in his truck. I accepted this as a good sign and assured him I did not have anything suitable in the house. He left to buy some, and came back with another repair man friend. Not sure if this was about moral support, safety in numbers or maybe the Vaseline application process requires two repair men. At any rate, they completed their task and convinced me the machine was good to go. Now it leaks water. I have to place a towel on the floor beneath the washer to catch the water. This gets the towel dirty and it needs to be washed. Can you see my dilemma? Each time they are here they fix a problem and leave me with another. They will be here later this week to fix the leak, because our insurance company still insists on fixing rather than replacing.

I need to know: If I lift a scrapbook layout idea from a graphic design book, does it become an original, or am I still just copying? We are headed for Barnes & Noble today, kids section and graphic design. Maybe some Starbucks cause one of the greatest minds ever to walk the earth thought it might be a good idea to combine the two into one handy location, bless you.

Funny Smell

I knew their would be some kind of punishment should I ever step out of my schedule/routine (schedule/routine=wait until the last possible moment to get things done, after spending all day playing with kids, watching Law and Order re-runs and wasting away in front of my laptop) and actually try to get ahead of the housework before noon.

I proceeded to start a bleach wash, hot water, soap and pretty much every white towel we own. Water was filling up ok, then it stopped... the washer made a very unusual, creepy sound. It is not unusual for the washer to make creepy sounds, but this one was new. If it were just the sound alone I might have ignored it, but there is also this funny smell. Not bleach, or soap or any combination of the two. Like a plastic burning smell. I UNPLUGGED the washer and called my darling husband. I figured he did not have anything else to worry about today (he has really stressful job and had spent the previous day and night fighting through airports to get home from our nation's capital. There was this one time he was in DC and got stuck in diverted traffic from the presidential motorcade. But, I digress).

So after a few words I have already added to my comment filter, he told me to unplug it. Hold on... let me write this down. Un...p...l...u...g the m...a...c...h...i...n...e. Ok, got it honey, thanks. Good thing i called. Is it so wrong that I am actually wishin' and hopin' that the thing is completely unfixable? Had it since 2000, and I am so ready for the beautiful, impressive new stuff I linger to covet every time we are at Lowe's. Here's hoping!!

Now what do I do w/ a washer full of wet, soapy, bleach soaked towels? Husband says bath tub. OK.

Hey, did I ever tell you about the awesome scrap layout idea I got from a really impressive enlarged advertisement hanging over some beautiful, pristine, brand spankin' new washer and dryers at Lowe's? White, bright blue, lime green and orange... I actually sketched it. What was i talking about?

Who's your daddy?

I have always been on the emotional side. However the "sappy" seems to have reached epic levels lately. I am as much in love with my daughters as any mother is, was or ever will be. Though the bond of mother and daughter is amazing, there is something not of this world about the "Father Daughter" thing. I knew my husband would make a great dad. It has been my pure joy to watch this come to pass with the birth of our daughters. But let's just get right to the point here, it seems the world has decided that "daddy" is back. There is a flood of songs on the charts, mostly sappy country (just the way I love country) filled with men pouring out their hearts to their daughters. I get big tears in my each time I hear this stuff! Famous athletes, pro-ball players all scooping up their kids for photo-ops. Even the Donald is bringing his newest beneficiary to the mircrophone at a recent press frenzy during the unveiling of his hollywood star. TV and movies are packed with precious moments between father and child.

Whatever the reason, sincere or less than, I have to say come on in the water is warm! Anyone close to me will agree that my head is constantly filled with images and expectations of what life should be. Somewhere between hollywood and the pottery barn kids catalogs I covet, I have created the perfect "theoretical" family. I am reminding myself more and more to go with the flow and enjoy the moment. This renewal of the celebration of the daddy inspires me to hold on tight to what I have. Here's to the dads out there who are busy with the business of loving their kids. Keep it up, there is nothing more manly, more attractive, more endearing or more worthy than what you are doing. Love to my incredible "daddy's girl" kind of husband - you are so the man I want to grow old with.