If It Wasn't For The Last Minute...

I am definitely a works-well-under-pressure kind of gal. Most of that is by necessity as I put everything off until the last minute and have no choice but to get everything done under a serious time crunch. It's been this way my entire life. There was never any "preparing" for tests. There was only cramming the night before and remembering all the useless info just long enough to ace the test and then forgetting it all immediately after.

The funny thing is, I used to really freak out and storm around the house stressing about how I hadn't started yet and so I was doomed to failure. That's just my way. I did this one time and I got so worked up about how it was 1am the night before the big test and there was no way I could pass it so why bother studying? My roommate at the time had no choice but to be witness to my melodramatic doomsday-ing. After listening to me predict my inevitable failure a dozen times or so, she concluded I must be right and she gave up and went to bed. But that was just the opening act. See, after I've stomped around a good bit and thrown a tantrum, I buckle down and get the work done. I stayed up late and crammed and got an A on my test. My roommate didn't. And I don't think she has ever forgiven me for bringing her down.

Since then, I've learned to just accept that I am a last-minute person and it will get done. Will it be exactly the way I imagined? Probably not but the end product will be more than adequate and will pass everyone's standards (just maybe not my impossibly high ones).

So it really shouldn't have been a surprise when I found myself on Wednesday making phone calls and sending out emails to people to invite them to Sassy's birthday party that was on Saturday. That's right--3 days before my daughter's party and I was just now getting around to inviting them. And it didn't end there. Here is a little recap from the last few days.

Wednesday Realize I forgot to send out invites; break Sassy's heart that the invitations she'd been planning for weeks wouldn't be made after all; realize Howdy's party is the following weekend and go ahead and make phone calls for his party as well (Go me! I'm on top of something!)

Friday afternoon Oops! Apparently I left a close friend of Sassy's off the invite list. Send frantic FB msg to her mom, begging for daughter to be able to come; agree to let her stay well past party time in order for her to be able to make it

Friday evening--9:30pm-ish In the middle of a Pampered Chef party that I'm hosting at my mom's house, it suddenly dawns on me that today is Friday--the day.before.the.party. Games are not planned, cake is not baked, treats for goodie bags are not purchased; momentary panic then laugh it off and continue party. Before leaving party, convince mom to bake the birthday cake since she is better at it than I am (truth)

Friday night/Saturday morning--12:45am Finally get home after spending hours chatting with friends; dread the flight-of-the-bumblebee cleaning job that awaits me; discover Hubby has been waiting up to help me clean (love that man); spend a few minutes cleaning and then try to convince Hubby that we should just call it quits and finish in the morning; Hubby insists on cleaning (hate that man); crawl into bed at 1:45am

Saturday morning (aka D-Day) Wake up and alternate between random cleaning (sweep kitchen, dust TV, clear table, clean kitchen counters...)and searching the internet for game/party ideas. Make a frantic run to the dollar store to get party props; stop at mom's and see that she bought everything for goodie bags and is going to put them together along with the cupcakes she's baked (love her); hurry to get back before Hubby has to leave for work; fail to find games on the internet; declare myself a creative genius for coming up with great party games myself; proceed to throw it all together

12:15pm After failing to convince Hubby that the kids would be better off with McDs for lunch, reluctantly take a break to feed the Minions; force down a sandwich while finishing games

12:45pm 15 minutes to party time; discover that I wasn't finished prepping; slight panic while acknowledging that I should have known better than to think I was done BEFORE party time

1:05pm Send the first 2 guests upstairs to play with Sassy while I finish booklets needed for all our activities

4:11pm With the exception of the one friend who is staying late, the guests are gone; pick up trash/discarded plates and cups; big sigh of relief that party is over

4:17pm Head downstairs to see Hubby who was hiding out in the basement for the entire party (minus the singing of "Happy Birthday); flop down on the couch and announce to Hubby that the party was a huge success; conclude I must be the most awesomest mommy ever

4:19pm Purposely block out the reminder that Howdy's party is only a week away and I will soon be doing this all over again.

House For Sale

FOR SALE:

Two story Tudor home with basement. Glass block windows give it lots of character and provide free air conditioning--year round. Highly sought after hardwood floors in the living room and first floor bedroom. A good buffing would take care of the roller skate marks the children left behind and the grooves the furniture made when the wife moved her furniture around every 2 months. The open kitchen has been decorated in retro, 1970's, gold shower paneling--except in those areas that the wife was able to rip it off the walls in ragged, broken patches. And speaking of open, you'll never have to worry about cupboard doors getting in your way again as all the doors have been removed. If you should decide to rehang them, the doors are still available, only without the hardware as the wife (again) removed it all in anticipation of a painting project that never got underway. Don't be alarmed by the missing piece of countertop--the husband has replaced it with a bit of plywood after another ill-advised home project attempt by the wife.

The bedroom on the first floor boasts 2 windows that both open--something you won't find on most of the first floor and therefore highly coveted. It has a quaint little closet that also features those glass block windows--perfect for making sure you are alert in the winter mornings. After all, nothing wakes you up quite like putting on clothes that are a crisp 34 degrees.

In the bathroom, you'll notice that there is a new shower/bath surround. Don't concern yourself with the lack of hardware on the bathtub plug--a rubber stopper works just as well. The empty metal box along the far wall used to house the radiator but now serves as a post-modern decorative accessory. While the vanity looks stunning with its marble counter and rich, cherry cupboard, you may notice the lack of running water in the sink. Not a problem as the family has proven that brushing your teeth at the kitchen sink works just as well.

Heading upstairs, you'll find the carpet is similar to Berber. The light, tan color is handy for helping you see each spot that needs to be cleaned. Wouldn't want you to miss a floor stain, after all. To the right is the first of the 2 upstairs bedrooms. Granted, it is only marginally wider than the twin size bed crammed inside but it's perfect for a baby or perhaps a Pygmy dwarf. Don't be alarmed at the 10 inch gaps between the stair posts, hardly anyone has ever fallen through. The last bedroom is the jewel of the upstairs. Bigger than any other room in the house, it has plenty of space for kids to spread out all their toys and can easily fit over 1,000 Legos in the walking space. As all the ceilings are slanted and low in the corners, it even has a built in doorstop, ensuring that when your kids throw open the bedroom door, it will only dig deeper into the ceiling instead of making a loud noise. Don't worry, the painfully bright yellow walls will grow on you. While the result of a paint chip mix up, they have since proven to be great for assisting in waking the children up in the morning. No more sleeping in when the sunlight hits those neon reflectors! The radiator warms up the room but not so much that you can't feel the fresh air seeping in through the single pane windows, assuring that you'll always feel the great outdoors--even when you're snuggled in bed.

Don't let the lack of overhead lighting discourage you. With a dozen or so strategically placed lamps, you'll have the house lit up in no time. And with the old wiring system, you'll never want for entertainment. Just try to figure out which breaker will trip when you run the hair dryer and the microwave at the same time. Or how about the washing machine and the bathroom heater? Or even the upstairs heater and the downstairs radio? Good times.

Before we head down to the basement, let's stop in the laundry room located off the kitchen. The flooring is hardy, indoor/outdoor carpet squares. This ensures that anything spilled will be well hidden. In fact, unless you happen to walk in there barefoot, you'd never even know that your dog peed in there because he was too wimpy to go pee in the rain.

Be sure to watch your head as you go downstairs to the basement. The ceilings clear 7 feet, but unless you're a giant, you'll have no trouble moving around down there. You'll notice most of the carpet squares have been removed, leaving only the concrete floor. Don't worry, throw rugs will help keep some of that frigid cold from seeping into your bones. The bonus room behind the stairs is great for storage, as long as you don't need a door as that has been removed. And the room at the other end of the basement would be a great office. Just be sure not to block the one side of the closet as it's your only access to the water heater and boiler. And there's a bonus--the boiler is an antique! Original to the house in 1947, it even features the old asbestos coating, several inches thick. They sure don't make them like that anymore!

You'll notice the cozy bathroom is actually about 6 inches higher up due to the hidden plumbing beneath the floor. Again, unless you're freakishly tall--like over 5'10--you'll be able to fit as long as you duck your head when leaving the room. The shower is just the right size for one person, as is the rest of the room. You'll never have to worry about anyone crowding you while you're trying to get ready in the morning--no one else will fit in the bathroom with you.

Pay no mind to the slight mildewy smell. With enough bleach and Lysol, the smell will go away. The hose running through the hole in the back door and snaked around to the shower will ensure that--assuming that it no longer rains like a waterfall and the city fixes all the drainage systems in the neighborhood--it will no longer flood in the basement. If you're concerned about it, just make sure that you keep all precious items at least 2 inches off the floor.

Through the back door (Don't worry that it's a hollow door--the odds are pretty slim that anyone will ever try to break in.) you'll find the back patio. You'll find plenty of room here, as evidenced by the owner's mountain of garage sale items that fills half the space. The yard is maintenance free provided you don't mind long grass. The owners recommended you don't leave small dogs back there as theirs had a tendency to get lost in the foliage for days on end. The garden space on the side of the house has produced lots of fruits and vegetables. The crows and the slugs seem to truly enjoy the harvest. And the owners were careful to leave all the dead plants in there for "compost".

The 2 car garage is currently so full that it can only be navigated by a narrow walking path--proof that there is plenty of storage space. And if that isn't enough space for you hoarders out there, the owners will throw in their 1992 GMC Safari van for free. They're not entirely sure it runs, but for the last 4 years, it's worked great as a storage shed!

The front yard is pretty low maintenance as well with the side being covered by 2 truckloads of dirt and gravel. Nothing to maintain there as long as you're a fan of morning glory and blackberries. The far side of the yard features 2 young oak trees. As they seem to be sickly and not growing, you'll never have to worry about raking up those annoying leaves.

Act now to get this great deal. Thanks to the lousy economy and the housing bust, the owners now owe much more than the house is worth. Don't make the same mistake they did--get it now while it's worth almost nothing! And if you call in the next 10 minutes, they'll even throw in their lawn mower for FREE! While it's not actually working, it makes for a great lawn ornament. Don't wait--call NOW!

Until Next Christmas

The holidays are over and gone, the tree has been tossed into the yard, the ornaments are packed away and the Christmas pies and cookies are settling nicely onto my hips. This year I worked on shipping and delivering frames all the way up to Christmas Eve so the holiday seemed to go by in the blink of an eye. It wasn't until after I tucked the kids into bed on Christmas Eve that I even found the time to wrap any presents and put them under the tree. The lack of gifts had my kids worried to point that they asked me if they were actually getting any presents this year.

But Christmas was a success. Now that I've recovered, I have a few moments to reflect on the season, in particular, a few things I found to be on the wrong side of ridiculous. (My apologies in advance for my less than stellar phone pics.)


This is quite possibly the most obnoxious "Christmas" tree I saw all season. Hot pink? Really? How exactly does that make you feel jolly? Can we just agree to steer clear of trees that aren't green or white flocked?





This beats out the florescent tree. It's a card you can send to your friend and her cat. Her CAT. I don't know what's worse--the person who would actually buy a card for a friend and her cat, or the woman who needs a card for herself and her cat. (And by the way, who at Hallmark greenlights these things?)







But THIS one earns the shiny, bedazzled ascot for the most ridiculous thing I saw. This is a display of VALENTINE'S crap merchandise--only 4 days away from Christmas! It's hard to see but on the left side of the pic are 2 aisles of Christmas decorations. BECAUSE CHRISTMAS HADN'T COME YET! I was still out trying to get my shopping done and they were trying to shove February down my throat? I can get behind all on my own, thank you. I don't need anyone's help. Sheesh!

Despite the over-the-top decorations and highly aggressive selling calendar, I managed to enjoy the season. But I'm curious--what obnoxious or ridiculous things did you see this Christmas?

The Mystery Box

Going over my checkbook the other day, I noticed a charge that I didn't recognize. It was from a company called The Green Group--pretty generic, right? I asked Hubby and he didn't know what it was from either. Now here is how vigilant we are about credit card or identity theft--instead of reporting it, we just assumed we had bought something while we were at our show in Spokane even though neither of us remembered purchasing anything. (I can see my mother shaking her head at this.)

Honestly, we both forgot about it until I got back from Portland. I received a notice from the post office saying I had missed a package while I was gone. It was from "The Green Group." Before I could remember that charge on my account, my first thought was I was being sent some kind of collection notice or something. Then I noticed that I had missed a "parcel". Well, that's definitely bigger than an envelope and bill collectors wouldn't spend the money to send something bigger (would they?). I checked the box for redelivery and then Hubby and I brainstormed some more on what it could be. Still couldn't come up with anything.

Two days later a box is brought to us. Hubby calls me in to the kitchen. "Should we experience this together?" Uh, yeah. So he cuts through the tape and is about to open it when a thought occurs to me. I stop him from revealing the contents and ask, "What if it's a present for one of us?" It's not unheard of for us to buy each other Christmas gifts at the craft shows to surprise the other with later. We both looked at each other, then looked at the box, temporarily at a loss as to what to do. If one of us did buy the other a gift, we didn't want to ruin the surprise. But we didn't really want to haul the box to a third party just to have them tell us what was inside. So we agreed that if it was a gift, the recipient would just be happy, even if we did spoil the surprise. So Hubby pulled back the flaps and there it was...craft supplies we had ordered from eBay.

Yeah, I know. Totally anticlimactic. But I've still got Christmas to look forward to!

Happy Birthday to Me!

With my birthday coming up in 4 days, I know you all have been stressing over what to get me. I thought I would make things easier on you and just present you with a short list for you to choose from. That's just the kind of considerate person I am!

1. You can never go wrong with chocolate.
Ok, technically that's not true but it's a good start. Just be sure to avoid dark chocolate, white chocolate or any of those ones with the weird cream fillings. If I get the creams I may eat a few but for the most part I will be left with a box filled with broken-in-half chocolates that no one will eat because they've now been mangled in my attempt to figure out what was in them. You're best to stick with nuts and caramels. That's the good stuff.

2. I could never have too many books.
Forget the worm analogy, I'm more of a book fiend. Especially if it's a tragic memoir, a love story that will leave me sobbing on Hubby's shoulder, anything involving mythological creatures or just trashy romance. And used works just as well as new. I could spend many hours and many more dollars in Half Price Books.

3. Everyone loves a good chick flick.
Maybe not everyone, but they work for me. Especially anything Jane Austen, or something that would play for 6 hours on BBC. If it's a period romance, there's a good chance I'll be hooked.

4. If all else fails, give the gift of peace.
If I had to choose one gift over everything else? It would be time to sit and write. Time to tap away at the keys while purging my brain of all that the voices have been plotting while I've been doing my daily chores. I would ask to be cloistered away somewhere with only my laptop, some peanut M&Ms (my drug of choice) and a hot cup of peppermint tea with no interruptions and...best of all--NO GUILT. I would ask for the freedom to sit and write to my heart's content. No obligations, no cooking (well, no feeding anyone since we all know I never cook), no phone calls and no running errands. Ahhhhh...now THAT would be a gift to remember.

Is this enough to get you started? If not, let me know and I'll send you my categorized and alphabetized Wish List. I just finished color coding it so it's all ready to go! Happy shopping!

Yes, Mother, I Am In Fact Brain Dead

My mom asked me that question yesterday when I informed her that CJ had missed his flight to Texas. Now a missed flight does happen to people on a rare occasion but she knows all too well that this type of thing happens on a regular basis with us.

Usually I am the main offender. I'm the one who always flakes out on very important appointments or locks my keys in my car. I have to hand out spare keys to my relatives like they're candy just so I'll have someone to call on to rescue me. I pulled into a parking lot one day and my kids said, "Hey, this is where you locked your keys in your car!" The last time it happened, they all said in unison, "Again?!"

Things like this just have a way of happening to me. Like the time I closed the back door of my wagon and managed to get my fingers caught in it...at night...while pregnant...and no one inside the house could hear me yelling. Or the time I was babysitting and I locked the baby in the car and had to call the police to rescue us. (No, I never told the mom. You're all wondering now, aren't you?)

Missed flights are such a common occurrence that all I can do when it happens is laugh. On our recent trip to Vegas, we couldn't find wi-fi to confirm our itinerary but I knew that our flight left at 12:15 in the afternoon from L.A. So we made our plans, drove our rental car back to L.A. and got to the airport in plenty of time. Only the ticket agent couldn't find us in the system. It turned out that we were supposed to arrive in Seattle at 12:15. I, of course, started laughing. Thankfully, the agent was really nice and super helpful and we made it back home that night.

Yesterday's incident I refuse to take blame for since I had nothing to do with booking the ticket. CJ did all that himself and we knew his flight left at 7:55am on Wednesday(today). He asked if I could check him in online. I tried but it wouldn't work. I double checked everything and tried again--still no luck. That's when I saw the date. He was supposed to fly out yesterday morning at 7:55am. He'd missed his flight by about 5 hours. After some serious scrambling, we finally got him to the airport around 4pm where we were informed there were no more flights going out. He would have to come back in the morning for the 7:55 flight we thought he was booked on originally.

He made that flight with no problem and hopefully will make it home in 2 weeks without incident. However, considering that he is flying to Texas every month now and the whole family is flying in August, I have no doubt that we will find ourselves in the airport once again laughing at our stupidity while the ticket agent just stands there looking in bewilderment at the two idiots who missed their flight.

Confirmed Bachelor

Here is a conversation that occurred on Friday between Sassy and Bubba:

Sassy: "Bubba, why don't you like girls?"

Bubba: "Because they like romance."

Sassy: "Why don't you like romance?"

Bubba: "What...kissing? Love? Yuck!"

Sassy: "And you don't like kissing?"

Bubba: "No! It makes me think of girls!"

Hmmm...I'm getting the feeling that he has something against girls. I wonder if he knows that I pray God will find him a wife...

GOODwill? I Don't Think so.

Thrift stores are dangerous places. I'm not just talking about the army of germs that roams freely through the merchandise waiting to infect those who go in unarmed with hand sanitizer, or the real possibility of slicing your hand open while digging in the clearance bin all because someone carelessly tossed aside a dolphin shaped glass candy dish that exploded on contact. The danger I'm talking about is nothing so obvious. No, this is much more insidious, stealthy even. The danger lies in the allure of...possibilities.

As a crafter, and a fan of Martha Stewart when it suits me, thrift stores, second hand stores, even garage sales are indeed highly dangerous. I have to prepare myself before entering. I know what my goal is, I remind myself of my target and vow to not stray away from it. I gird my loins, bypassing the carts that I know I will have no need of and march bravely past the registers and into the heart of unknown finds.

I start out at a brisk pace but it doesn't take long for that musty smell of old books, mildewed clothes and long forgotten tchotchkes to envelope me, fogging my brain. My target starts to waver a bit and before I know what's happening, I find myself wandering the book aisles. It's just a detour. "What could it hurt?" I reason with myself. After all, I buy books anyway, might as well buy them at a discount.

When I am satisfied that I have read every title available and plucked out a few that will fit perfectly on my overflowing bookshelf, I finally move on. First through the shoes where, even though they almost never have a pair in my size that has any sole left, I eye every pair. I can't help but steal a glance at the furniture which is next to the shoe aisle. I have no room for anything in my house but if I found the right piece--the one that just needs some paint, maybe a few screws, perhaps a replaced slat of wood--I would find a place for it.

I do have enough will power to skip past the electronics section but that only leads to the glass trinkets. I can feel my knees go weak as I get closer. I used to be able to justify shopping down this aisle because I could find stuff for the crafts I would sell, but not anymore. I have no reason to go down this aisle and yet, I find I am too weak to resist. What if I found a bride and groom figurine to add to my collection? What if I really do have a use for that elephant pitcher that pours through the trunk? Maybe I'll find an abandoned set of china in just the right pattern that they're selling at a steal?

The wood aisle is actually worse because I know that with a little paint, many of those discarded shelves and plaques could actually be cute. They have potential. That candle holder is broken on the bottom? Put a flower ring around it. That wall sign has a crack in the corner? Glue a few decorative buttons on to cover it. There isn't anything I can't improve with a little bit of paint and hot glue.

I don't dare go past the baskets, that's just tempting fate. They are my Achilles heel. I am a strong, intelligent woman but I can be brought down by a clever wicker weave. See, I don't have to have a use for a basket for it to worm it's way into my hot little hands. It's as if they have a secret password into my brain--they know how to call out and tempt me until I am helpless to do anything but take them home and add them to the pile of baskets that have escaped from the forgotten bins of the second hand store and have been adopted into my welcoming home.

By this time, I've had to go and get a cart because my arms are turning purple from trying to balance all the items that I feel too guilty to leave behind. After all, if I won't give them a home, who will? If I'm lucky and I manage to shake out of that dust-induced coma, I will skip past all the ladies' clothing racks. Being an average size girl of average build there will be tons of garments for me to choose from as long as I'm willing to invest in some bleach, Spray 'n' Wash, and a few buttons to replace those that have popped off.

The guilt of pushing a loaded down cart up to the register when I only meant to spend five minutes in the store is soon forgotten as I realize that several of the items I picked out have the correct color of tag for the half-off discount. Half off what was already a great price? Can it get any better than this?

As I load my treasures into my car, the fresh air seeps into my muddled brain and the fog starts to lift. I sober considerably at the thought of having to explain to my husband why these particular items were just too big of bargains to not buy. It's only when I'm pulling out of the parking lot--my bank account emptied, the smell of an old person's attic permeating my entire van--that I remember that I was only supposed to run up to the store to find my son a pair of pants and I never even looked at the kids' clothing.

The thrift store defeated me again.

So Much For Superwoman

As a mom, you have to deal with all kinds of gross things. It just comes with the territory. Some of us deal better than others. I have no problem with sick children. I can handle vomit better than many adults. I don't freak out over blood. (That's how I got volunteered to pick the gravel out of my friend's elbow when he wiped out on a motorcycle.) Runny noses? Got it covered. Split your head open? Slap some ice on it and you'll be fine.

But it seems that even us moms, superheroes though we may be, have our weaknesses. I have just discovered my kryptonite. It's a simple loose tooth.

My kids' teeth are as stubborn as they are. They do not come out until they absolutely have to. When a tooth finally does fall out, the new tooth is usually already poking through. So when a tooth is just hanging there as Sassy's was this afternoon, you know it's ready to come out.

Her tooth was literally hanging by a thread, making it next to impossible to eat lunch. I knew all it would take was a simple tug to free it, but I couldn't do it. It made me nauseous just to look at it. So instead, I tried to encourage her to take care of it herself. She wiggled and twisted and tugged but nothing happened. The only thing it accomplished was making my stomach turn. I really thought my insides were staging a revolt for awhile. Just thinking about it makes me want to throw up. But she finally did it. She pulled her own tooth out. It took a little harder tug than she'd been doing but it came out. The only thing I had to do was wash the offending tooth.

Let me just say that I'm grateful that all this occurred before I'd eaten lunch. Is it wrong to wish the whole thing had been as simple as the stomach flu?

A Matter of Genetics

I had to talk myself into blogging today. I'm feeling rather lazy as usual. The funny thing is, I usually blog as a way to avoid all the other work I'm supposed to be doing. So how bad am I if I'm getting too lazy to sink into denial and procrastination? I would hate to think I've really sunk that low so...I'm blogging.

Today was a beautiful, sunshiney day. A little on the cool side, perhaps, but just right with a small jacket on. And my children (being that they are, in fact, MY children) had to be forced to go outside and play. They could not be convinced to go outside and enjoy the weather until we threatened them. We told them they couldn't play on the video games until they'd spent some time outside. For every 10 minutes they played outside, they earned 5 minutes of video game time. Even that was only enough to keep Howdy outside for about 10 minutes. It was only after Daddy suggested they play "trampoline dodgeball" that Howdy reluctantly went back out. Nothing will change his mind faster than the thought of inflicting pain on his siblings.

How many children have to be forced to play outside on a sunny day? We just bought the kids a trampoline for Christmas, we have a huge pile of rocks and dirt to dig in and they have little cars and bikes they can ride. Why aren't they begging to go out there and play every day?

Why? Because they are my children. Apparently when they were being knit together in my womb, my DNA got bossy and took over the place, kicking most of Hubby's peaceful DNA out of the way. The compulsion to remain indoors? They got that from me. The insatiable desire for books? That's all me. The angst, worry and stress? Their therapists can reassure them that also came from me. The picky palates? OK, that one can be blamed on the both of us. But the point is, most of these little quirks and odd personality traits can be traced back to yours truly.

Sometimes I actually feel a little sorry for them. Why couldn't they have their dad's love of sports and the coordination required to be good at them? Where is Hubby's laid-back, don't-worry-be-happy attitude? Where is the love of the outdoors? And if they had to favor me, why did they have to inherit my hermit nature and my perfectionist tendencies?

I know a little of Hubby's DNA lurks in each of them, waiting until the Sheri DNA has become lax and unsuspecting. I know it because I see it appear for brief moments before the Sheri DNA beats it back into submission. Knowing my husband's reluctance to rock the boat, I'm not sure his DNA really stands a chance. I can only hope that one day, it will rise up and take over. I'll know that day has come when my children ask me, completely of their own free will, if they can go outside and play in the sun.

Don't Judge Me

I have a confession to make. Lately I've been spending a lot of quality time with 2 men, neither of whom are my husband. I realize that what I'm doing is wrong but I just can't help myself. They are both smooth, enticing and yes, irresistible. CJ is aware that they are in my life but I don't think he knows to what extent.

Anytime I head out to go "grocery shopping", I offer up a fervent wish that I will find them waiting for me. And I do. They're always there, calling to me, tempting me.

When I'm bored, they give me something to do. When I'm stressed, I can take all my worries out on them. When I want to celebrate, they are right there with me, the life of the party. They listen to me without judgment and simply offer up more of themselves.

Don't get me wrong, there are a few downsides. No matter how cautious I may be, they always leave their mark on me. My body just hasn't been the same since I've started spending so much time with them. They've become an addiction for me. I'm afraid nothing short of the loss of my car keys and wallet could keep me from them.

I sneak in a little quality time whenever possible. There are days that I don't even wait until after dinner when I know my husband will be occupied. I admit I've even been known to cozy up with them before lunch.

I know it's not right and I do feel guilty on occasion, but how can something that feels so right be wrong? I won't try to explain how much this relationship means to me. I don't think anyone else would truly understand. Say what you want, but for now, I will continue to indulge in my passion for Ben and Jerry's.

My Dear Jane

I never watch TV or movies during the day because I don't want my kids seeing or hearing things that are not appropriate. However, I do make an exception on laundry day. Laundry day isn't necessarily the day that I wash all our dirty clothes, but it is the day that I sit down and fold the four or five baskets full of clean clothes that I've already washed. Because this is such an automatic, mundane task, I have to have something to engage my brain. And so, out comes the chick flick.

But like I said before, I can't watch just any movie. It has to be clean. My favorite has been "Ever After", the Cinderella story with Drew Barrymore. I just adore this movie. My kids have seen me watch it so many times that when it comes on, Logan asks, "Is this the one where they throw the book into the fire?" As a matter of fact, it is. But Cinderella has now been replaced.

I now have copies of my favorite book-turned-into-a-movie. I have "Pride and Prejudice". I sit and fold my laundry while Keira Knightley plays Elizabeth Bennett on my TV. I just love this movie. I've seen it so many times that I can beat the characters to their lines. When I am in the kitchen, I watch the 6 hour BBC version with Colin Firth. See, in my kitchen I have a TV/VCR combo so my Keira Knightley DVD can only be enjoyed in the livingroom. But whether I am folding laundry or washing dishes, my beloved Jane Austen keeps me company.

I have to admit that I like Keira's version better. In the BBC version, Mrs. Bennett and Mr. Collins are so over the top they are more like caricatures. And while I'm not crazy about Keira's version of Jane and Matthew MacFayden lacks the presence and severity of Colin Firth, I still prefer the newer version.

Honestly, I would watch any version of "Pride and Prejudice". I love the way they dress, the way they talk, the way they adhere to all things "proper". And I love the way the movie is actually made. I'm a big fan of sweeping, uncut takes and the new version has so many great scenes like this, most taking place at the balls. Watch it just for the camera work. And the music. You can't forget the music.

My children sometimes roll their eyes and complain, "This one AGAIN?!" and sometimes they sit down and watch in spite of themselves. I don't mind either one as long as they don't interrupt my Jane Austen fix.

Yes, I Ask For Directions

I consider myself a fairly intelligent person. I keep up (somewhat) with current events, I can hold a conversation and not sound too much like an idiot, I can do basic math without having to count on my fingers and toes. But somehow I always manage to make myself look like a complete moron. I wish I had someone else to blame for this but it's my own doing.

I have a somewhat good sense of direction. If I drive someplace new, I can almost always find my way back out and can find my way there again next time. But on occasion, my brain cells turn off and I find myself driving around town in the complete opposite direction of my goal. I'm not lost. How can I be lost when I usually know exactly where I am? I am, however, nowhere near my intended destination and not always sure the best route to take to get there.

I wish I could say this rarely happens but this is me we're talking about. It happens more frequently than I would like to admit. I don't mind asking for directions but I usually resort to my own personal GPS--my mother. She's usually in front of a computer and can Mapquest my location for me. It's very helpful.

The only problem with this is that I will never be able to convince my mother that I am a capable, independent adult who can take care of herself. She knows me better than that. Just today I left her waiting for me at a restaurant for more than 30 minutes because I thought I knew where I was going. Even though all the signs pointed in the other direction (literally), I went the way that made sense to me.

Hmmm. I may have just discovered the source of my problems. This wouldn't be the first time that I've noticed things make sense to me in a way that no one else seems to get. Maybe if I just start doing things that DON'T make sense, I won't get lost. But then, where is the fun in that?

Tooth Fairy

The Tooth Fairy visited our house last night. Sassy lost her top front tooth in the middle of the night on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. She put it in a special box under her pillow but she was very concerned that the Tooth Fairy might not come...just like last time.

You see, we have a somewhat unreliable Tooth Fairy. Sometimes she shows up when expected, sometimes we have to leave her a note telling her that we do indeed have a tooth for her, sometimes we have to leave the tooth in a different spot so she can find it. If this was a paid position, she would have been fired long ago.

I assured Sassy that the Tooth Fairy would come this time and I even meant to set an alarm so I could remind Miss Fairy but of course, I forgot. Luckily, I check on the kids every night before I go to bed. So last night at midnight as I was heading upstairs, it clicked. I called the Tooth Fairy and sent her into action.

Normally it would be as simple as finding 2 quarters but my dear daughter had a different request this time. She wanted the Tooth Fairy to bring her "some little things instead of money". Not an unreasonable request I thought. That was before the Tooth Fairy found herself scrambling around the house trying to find some little trinkets that not only would Libby like but that she hadn't already seen. She combed through the office and craft room and then moved upstairs to the dreaded craft closet.

This closet holds treasures of all sorts, certainly something suitable could be found in here. The problem? The light in the hallway doesn't work, making it next to impossible to see inside the closet. Although, even if she could've seen inside, she knew it was a near impossible feat to even find anything in there without causing a catastrophic avalanche that would no doubt wake every person in the house.

It was with some stealthy maneuvering and not a few whispered prayers that Miss Fairy finally came up with a few baubles for Sassy. They were placed with care under her pillow and the tooth was taken away. With a sigh of relief, the Tooth Fairy climbed into bed at 12:35am, waiting to hear the excited sounds of Sassy discovering her treasure in the morning.

The best part? It's 10:45 in the morning right now and she hasn't even looked under her pillow. Go figure.

How Does Your Garden Grow?

I have a garden. I know it's hard to believe but I do. And it's actually producing edible food. If you know me at all, you know this is an amazing accomplishment. I'm great at growing houseplants but outdoor plants? Not so much. It probably wouldn't be so bad if I actually liked to be outside or if I enjoyed playing in the dirt but I really don't like either one.

So why start a garden? That's a very good question. Like everything else, I blame it on my mother. When I was young, my mom had a garden out back. She grew peas, zucchini, tomatoes and lots of other things that I don't eat. I can remember going out to the garden and picking tomatoes off the vine and eating them. I remember opening up the pea pods and popping those little green balls out and eating them right there. I've always told myself that I was going to have a garden like my mom did.

Now, I'm not a complete idiot. I knew that I needed to wait until I had the time (and yard) to devote to this garden. My house has the perfect spot and for the last 3 years, our friend and renter grew lots of things in it while I watched, shaking my head as she watered and weeded at 6 in the morning. She loved to be in her garden. I was content to watch her through the window.

This spring however, she wasn't here to plant her garden. I got the brilliant idea that I should keep it going. I spent days clearing out the space. Weeding, tilling, preparing the soil. My mom went shopping with me for seeds and starters and stakes and tools and gloves. Almost $200 and a few weeks later and my garden was planted. It looked perfect. For about a day.

What I didn't realize was that my friend didn't spend every spare minute in her garden purely for pleasure. It takes every spare minute just to keep up with all the weeds. Not to mention battling slugs and crows. I'm fighting a losing battle against all the critters that have found my strawberries so appealing. And it's not enough just to turn on the sprinkler and water every day. Some days it needs more water than that. And watering the plants also makes the weeds grow so I have to spend more time digging those out.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not against a little hard work. I just really don't enjoy working outside...in the dirt...with all the bugs. I've come to the conclusion that my kind of gardening is best suited to flowering shrubs surrounded by beauty bark. You pull a few weeds here and there, do a little pruning and water occasionally. Done. I'm not even against having nothing but grass and then all I have to do is mow.

And I can't say anything tastes better just because I grew it. I'd rather spend the money to buy organic from the grocery store than to have to live on the fruits of my labor. Someone needs to keep those farmers in business.

So far I think the idea of having a garden and growing my own fruits and vegetables is so much better than the reality! But really, isn't that the case with most things?

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

I've tried to be good this year. I've been watching what I eat (and it all looked pretty good), keeping the house clean (when we're having company), and playing with my children (I love the "quiet game"). I make sure to do the laundry after everyone's run out of underwear and the children are always bathed after they start to stink. I catch the dust bunnies when they escape from under the furniture, help the kids find their clean clothes from the laundry baskets and keep our videos rewound so the kids can entertain themselves easier. Not only do I keep up with all of this around the house, but I'm involved in philanthropic endeavors as well. I financially support the local thrift stores and dollar stores. I single-handedly keep my neighborhood Papa Murphy's and McDonald's thriving. In light of all this, I'm hoping that you might bring me something off my Christmas list this year. Here's what I would like:

A dishwasher specifically for pots and pans. I know that there are good lessons to be learned in working hard but I think I know them already and my time would be put to better use if I didn't have to wash them myself.

A toilet that catches all moisture that comes even close to it. Since my boys seem to have difficulty hitting the right target, this would make my bathroom so much more pleasant to walk into.

A camera that will hold the batteries in without using tape. And while you're at it, maybe you could get me one of those that you can look at the screen to shoot instead of looking through the tiny viewfinder. It's just that I'm getting older and my eyes would appreciate not having to strain to look at a half inch picture of something.

I would like a car that doesn't have vinyl seats. I appreciate that's it's easier to clean, but we are freezing off important bodies parts in the winter and frying those same parts in the summer.

I would also like to have a few extra ears. I know that 2 really should be enough and I don't mean to sound greedy. It's just that when I have all 3 kids hollering to be heard by me, having 3 different conversations while I'm trying to watch TV, it's very hard to concentrate. If I had more ears, I could listen to all of them and not miss anything on TV.

Finally, I would like a house that has no more "projects" to finish. I would like a bathroom with a working sink, a kitchen with cabinet doors and a full countertop, windows that aren't broken, rooms with plenty of light, and carpets that aren't stained.

I realize that I'm asking for a lot. But hopefully you could find it in your heart to get me at least one of the things on my list (I'm leaning toward the toilet thing). I will do my best to continue to be good. I'll keep you posted on my progress.

Merry Christmas,
Sheri (you know which one)

A Card Carrying Member

My sisters and I are going out dancing next weekend. It's an unspoken rule that whenever my oldest sister is in town, we have to go out dancing. As my younger sister and I were discussing this she said to me, "I want you to let loose while we're out. Just go wild and have fun." I found this amusing. You see, I always do let loose and have a great time. I don't drink and so I'm the designated driver. And there isn't anything I say or do that I would be embarrassed for anyone else to know about. But it hammered home a truth that has divided me and my sisters since the day I was born.

I am a nerd. (If you grew up with me at all, this is not a revelation.) But I'm not the techie, computer geek type that now seems to be the "cool" kind of nerd. I am a nerd in the purest, most picked on sense of the word. I was always the teacher's pet growing up. I got straight A's up through high school and graduated with honors. I was never fashionable and always seemed to have a bad perm.

I always asked for extra work and was the first to sign up for summer reading programs. I love to read. I can't tell you how many times my sisters came into my room while I was reading, begging me to do "something fun". Hello?! Can't you see I'm having fun already?

You know those people that you went to school with that always seemed older and put together and just plain cool? I was the opposite of that. I never even seemed my own age, much less older. Not a year went by that I was not teased, picked on, ridiculed endlessly.

I was always the goody-two shoes of the family. I was the tattle-tell, the party pooper. Both my sisters had problems in school and seemed to get in trouble. I could never understand why anyone would want to do something that would make their parents upset with them. This is not to say that I never did anything bad. I've had my moments of rebellion and stupidity. And there were plenty of times that I would try anything to fit in with my sisters or people at school. It never worked.

It's not just reading that I enjoy. I could pass away hours happily organizing something, anything. It's makes me happy to see something in it's place. (Just don't ask me to clean said place.) Last year my husband finally bought me a gift I've been asking for for years. He bought me a label maker. He's so good to me. He's in construction and sometimes he'll bring home catalogs of organizing units and pieces for your kitchen. That's hours of entertainment right there. I drool over the pages in my scrapbook magazine of perfectly organized craft rooms and scrapbook corners. I love to look at the closet organizers at Home Depot. A fun evening out for me would be to walk around the Container Store. (At least I'm a cheap date!)

I also have a thing for spelling. If I see something misspelled, it stands out like a flashing neon light and I can't get past it. If it's something coming from a friend or something personal, it's not such a big deal. But if it's on something professional? Oh, that irritates me to no end. Don't they pay someone to check these things? Can they not hit the spellcheck button? How are you supposed to appear professional if you can't even spell it?

I don't drink, smoke or cuss. I've tried all at one time or another and enjoyed none. Mixed drinks always taste better without the alcohol. I love the smell of wine, but it smells better than it tastes. Cigarettes are just NASTY! Cussing stuck around longer than anything else but even that didn't last. It just doesn't seem to fit. And this one always amuses me because I think there is a blue streak in my genes. The women in my family can swear in a way that would make a sailor blush. I do have to admit that I did have one favorite word that I used all the time. I always said "crap". Which, when you think about it, is still a gross word. But I always figured it was nothing compared to what you might be hearing everywhere else. Until I had kids. Once I had kids, I started thinking about these words coming out of the mouths of my little children. Suddenly, it sounded a whole lot worse to me. I had to train myself not to say it. First, I had to stop saying it. Then, I had to stop thinking it. And then I had to come up with something else that would be appropriate. I came up with the most ridiculous thing I could think of and started using it instead. My "go-to" word has now become "heavens to Betsy." I'm not sure exactly how but it works. It's hard to stay upset about anything after saying that.

I didn't enjoy the same things that my sisters did growing up and so I've always been the big nerd, the snob. Imagine the excitement for my sisters when their stuffy, prudish sister started going to church. That was the best thing that ever happened to me. It wasn't until my junior and senior year in high school, when I mostly hung around with kids in the youth group, that I started to accept (and dare I say embrace) my nerdiness. Did I still want to fit in? Absolutely. But I became a lot more comfortable with being an outsider. And I don't care who knows it. I'll be the first person to volunteer to do something completely humiliating...and have a great time doing it. I have been teased and picked on since preschool. I figure people are going to think whatever they want to about me. I might as well enjoy myself.

So this is me. A full-fledged, card-carrying member of the Nerd Herd. Label maker in one hand, a good book in the other, calling out to other geeks-in-hiding. Embrace your nerdiness! (Just leave out the pocket protectors.)

My Name is Sheri....and I am a Movie Slut

Before you get all offended and up in arms about that title, let me explain what it means. I love movies. I love to watch them, read about them, see how they made them. I am the queen of useless movie trivia. You name a movie and I can tell you who was in it, the story line, how it did at the box office and sometimes who directed or even produced it. I went into "The Sixth Sense" knowing the big secret at the end, and thoroughly enjoyed watching it. But out of 100 movies that I could tell you about I've probably only seen about 4. I prefer to see a movie in the theater but since I am not willing to take out a second mortgage to pay for it, I don't get out much. I don't have movie channels on my cable either so my movies, for the most part, come from Netflix (a great concept).

Back to the title. I will watch almost any movie. I don't like sci-fi or horror, although there are a few exceptions, but I will watch pretty much everything else. I don't need a lesson on the trash that's being allowed to filter into my brain. Trust me when I tell you that I have my own issues in dealing with that. But the fact that I have no discerning taste when it comes to movies prompted a dear friend of mine to give me the title of "Movie Slut". Although slightly offensive, it seems to fit. I love to see a good story, good acting or sometimes just good entertainment.

I must confess something to you. I have not seen most of the movies that would be considered "classic" or that would be on anyone's top 100 list. If I had no children or husband, I'm convinced I would probably be watching movies every day and have no life at all. I try to be kind to my husband and not watch every chick flick I can get my hands on. And I am very discerning in what I will allow my children to see. I won't watch any movies while they are home because I don't want them hearing or seeing something they aren't ready for. Plus, I never have time for a movie.

Something has happened to my taste in movies as I've gotten older. It seems the lower the IQ of the movie, the funnier I will find it. It started about 10 years ago with the original Austin Powers. I laughed hysterically through the whole thing. But I didn't like the 2nd and didn't see the 3rd. I'm okay with pointless humor, just not so much bathroom humor. I also loved "Dodgeball". Actually the best part of that is the DVD extras. I could sit and watch Justin Long get hit with a ball for hours. (Hey, don't judge me!) I will confess one more to you at the risk of being ostracized forever. I laughed throughout most of "Talledega Nights". I know, I know. I seem like an intelligent person but inside I'm just...well, a movie slut.

Some of the movies that you would find on my top 100 list? Let me share them with you, in no particular order:
Gladiator (hello, Russell Crowe!)
Secondhand Lions
Transformers
Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon
August Rush
Ever After
Pride & Prejudice
Schindler's List
13 Going on 30
The Lord of the Rings trilogy
Fargo
Return to Me
Never Been Kissed
The Joy Luck Club
What About Bob?
Elf

As you can see, I have a very broad taste in movies. I'm sure I'm not the only one, but I may be the only one to admit it. I think I have a genetic defect that wants me to find something good in everything. I just watched "The 40-year-old Virgin" recently. It's a very crude, R-rated comedy about...what else? But there is a part of the movie (SPOILER ALERT!) that was so sweet. The main character just confessed to his girlfriend that he had been avoiding sex with her because he was a virgin. He said to her, "All this time I thought I was weird. But now I realize that it never happened because I was just waiting for you." Awwwww! Honestly, I cried when he said that. (Ask my husband.) How sweet and romantic was that? And then they waited until after they were married to...well, you know.

Yes, I know it's only a movie, it's not real. But in our world today, it brings me joy to hear things that are sweet and tender and give hope. Even if it's fiction.

shhhhhh!

don't tell my kids but i'm hiding. i took my tea and my breakfast and i'm entrenched in front of the computer. it's not a very secret hiding spot so i'm sure i will be found out any moment. that's why i'm whispering. they're still eating breakfast and doing their chores. i think they're trying to hide from me as well so i won't make them start on their schoolwork.

the shades are open at the window next to me and everything outside is wet. i love the fall. i just want to curl up in a blanket and watch the leaves and the rain and sip tea or cocoa. it energizes me. well, not so much at the moment! but that's what i would prefer to be doing right now.

this time of the year is so busy for me. i have 4 craft shows in november and i usually spend at least 2 months before that trying to get ready for the shows. for most of them, it's set up on friday, work saturday and sunday and then take down on sunday evening. but i'm also homeschooling during all this. i have to try to keep the kids on the same schedule as much as possible or we'll be dealing with serious behavior problems. one of these days i might go into detail about what happened last year around this time but i don't have the energy right now. it was too stressful.

freeze! i hear footsteps outside my door......don't make a sound......whew! we're safe for now. that was too close. i need to sign off before my post is invaded. sometimes it's rough here in the trenches. there's never enough contact with the outside world. if you get this message, be assured that i'm hanging on. my mission is thus far a success. the children are behaving and learning and growing. they are------

i've been found out! i'm outnumbered! retreat! save yourself! i'll do my best to survive......don't forget about me.....tell----..........

Confession...I'm Getting Old

I am a 30-something mother of 3 and yet I found myself standing in line at 11:30pm last night waiting for....a book. But this is not just any book. This is the final book in one of the best book series I've ever read. Seriously. I was waiting for "Breaking Dawn", the last of the books in the Twilight series by Stephenie Meyer. If you've read the series, you understand. I discovered the books over Christmas break and couldn't put them down. When I got to the end of the 3rd book, I was so sad to leave the characters that I had to read them all over again. So when book #4 went on sale last night, I had to have it. My mom went early and reserved one for me and then at 11pm last night, I left to go stand in line with my sister. I was so excited I couldn't stand it. I HAD to know if Edward and Bella stay together. As soon as I got my copy I went right to the back page to find out. (Yes, I do that with every book.)
But as I was standing in line, I started to feel really old. Normally I don't feel that way. Most days I look around and wonder, "How did I become old enough to have 3 kids and a mortgage? How can I be old enough to be married to someone who just turned 40?" But last night was different. There were plenty of other sane adults like me. But there was also a high number of very shrilly, young ladies who, honestly, just got on my nerves. They were the ones who were wearing hand-drawn t-shirts expressing their love for Edward and screaming every chance they got. A couple of them even stole the posters right out of the bookstore. You know what went through my head? "Was I really this obnoxious when I was a teenager?" Regrettably, I'm sure the answer to that would be "yes". At least it would be if you asked my mother. So I believe that makes me officially old. How sad for me. I think I've now become a grown-up.