I have a problem. The hem on my daughter's school uniform has come undone and it needs sewn, but I don't know how to do it. As a matter of fact, I recently gave my sewing machine to my in-laws because they will actually use it. Poor thing sat in my closet for 10 years without being touched. My husband bought me that machine with much wishful thinking, but I never even learned how to thread it.

But, sewing isn't the only task I do miserably. It is just one of many reasons why I make a lousy housewife...

I am a rotten cook, my husband frequently runs out of clean underwear because I haven't done the laundry, and the kitchen sink is often overflowing with dishes.

The most I can seem to run a sweeper is twice a week, when it should really be done every day. My dog sheds so much that I am constantly telling the children not to sit on the floor. I keep a lint brush handy, so their teachers won't think I make them sleep on top of the dog's bed, in their school clothes.

There is dust covered furniture with dust-bunnies underneath...and you don't want to know what I find when a ball rolls under the oven and I have to pull it away from the wall.

The basement is cluttered with things I plan on putting out for a garage sale...the one I've been meaning to have for three years now. The floors need mopped, the curtains need washed, toys need disinfected, and the cabinets need scrubbed. I REALLY could go on and on.

But, I am good at some things...

I've read Barney books so often that I have them memorized, and I can whoop some butt at Candyland, PayDay, Chutes & Ladders and Sorry.

I have the patience to spend an entire Saturday afternoon putting together a jigsaw puzzle with two kids, and I wait for, what seems like eons, while my five year old says his prayers each night.

I can give a kid a good bath in two minutes flat, undo knotted shoelaces and necklaces in record speed, pack a lunch faster than a speeding bullet, and I always get my kids to school on time.

I manage to keep files from work, school papers, homework, committee documents, insurance forms and therapy instructions in order. And, I can be enthusiastic while watching magic tricks and shows put on by a five and nine year old. Over, and over, and over...

I can give a haircut to a squirming kid, floss the back teeth of a child with a severe gag reflex, and thanks to a "failure to thrive" diagnosis, I, along with my husband, managed without much sleep in order to feed our boy every three hours, round the clock, for 13 months straight.

I can heal boo-boos with a kiss, make up stories and songs to sooth a tired child, once danced around the lab at the hospital to distract my son while his blood was drawn, and have somehow mustered the strength to watch him get taken to surgery time after time.

So there. My daughter's hem is out and I need someone else to sew it. I'm no domestic goddess, and I'm not a Super-Parent either, but I think I make a halfway decent Mom.

Labels: Family Life, Kids, Prematurity, Ramblings

Labels: Kids, Photos, The Places in My Neighborhood

Labels: Kids, Photos

My husband and I were at a basketball game yesterday afternoon, and during a time-out an emcee stood at the end of the court with one of the fans. He asked her if she was ready to play a game called, Guess What Year.

He boomed into the microphone and asked, “What year was the Academy Award winning song, 'What a Feeling', from the movie Flashdance, released?

I immediately turned to my husband and said, “1983”.

The emcee went on to ask two more questions, but I didn’t need to hear them.

I knew I was right, because I have Flashdance flashbacks. I clearly remember sitting among my sisters at a cousin’s wedding reception and watching my Mom jog around the dance floor to the Flashdance song, "Maniac". For the record, she was completely sober.

I was twelve. I watched in horror (and that's not too strong a word) as my Mom did a crazy, toe-stepping impression, straight out of the movie. The only things missing were the leg-warmers.

I remember holding my head in my hands and shaking it left and right, and when I finally looked up, I was shocked to see my Mom take things to another Flashdance level. She was alone on the dance floor, when she suddenly stopped in the middle of it, and poured a pitcher of water over her head.

My best friend has told me that I use the word mortified incorrectly. She says it doesn’t just mean humiliated, but embarrassed on so deep a level that you wish you were dead. The moment my Mom poured that water over her head, I was mortified.

It didn’t matter that we were surrounded by family members who were hysterical and doubled over with laughter. I was twelve. My Mom could walk through the room and it would embarrass me.

Now when I look back, I can’t help but laugh about it. I can appreciate that my Mom was having a good time, and I love that she was making people crack-up.

But more than anything, I smile because I have a different perspective now. I’m a parent, and I know that soon my daughter will be twelve. And, I find satisfaction in knowing there will be many opportunities to mortify her.

Labels: A Look Back, Kids

Not only should we never drink and drive, but we shouldn't drink and send e-mails either. The following arrived in my inbox, from my BFF, at 3:12 AM last Sunday. Did you realize you could slur while typing? Please note, she did NOT drive. It's quite clear that her car was at Robing's house. Enjoy...

Mo,

I’m very buszed and wanted to leave a comment ofn you blog but better if not. Ver y tire too. I got 5l5 hours of slep leat night –oh, that is 5.5 hours – and then whent out tonight with neighbors agfter the njewlery party Rboing had. I thought I’d be home at about 9; 30. Uh, yeah. Oh, and I have a xizsat (that says, “zit”) the soizes (truly, that is the second time I have typed the word, “sixe” …”SIXRE” … “xiwse” … “sixe” …. “SIZE”!!!!!!) um… oh~! A zit the size of Kandse! Kansesa@ Kanases! Kansesa! Kansas!!!! YEAS! It is a beacon for landing plandse/.. That said “olanes” … “Pleane@” I’mre uRES! “PLANES!” I am crancikint! Up right now!@!!

Can’t kept going. REmong me to tell you about a sujrprise 340th bday parythe. !@!

Welp, I wan’t drivnign … my car is at robings’.
bean

Labels: Ramblings

My kids talk...A LOT. My nine year old daughter started talking at 18 months and has been chatty ever since. It can take her ten minutes to tell a story that could've been told in three sentences. My husband and I often say that she would be an amazing FBI interrogator. Criminals would certainly cave in and divulge their secrets if they had to spend time locked in a room with her.

My five year old son rambles all day. He talks to his sister, us, and his toys. He sings while he plays, and is always making noise. He's still at a stage where he asks questions constantly too. It's enough to drive a Mother crazy.

Yesterday, I took my son to his doctor to have impacted wax cleaned out of his ears. His ear canals are very small, so they easily clog up and we've been making trips to the ENT every few months. When he starts asking, "What?" all the time, we know it's time to schedule an appointment.

After the procedure was over and he climbed out of the chair, his doctor asked, "Does that feel better?"

My son replied, "Yeah!"

Then he realized that he could actually hear himself talk and said, "But, my mouth is SO LOUD!"

You're telling me, kid. You're telling me.

Labels: Kids

Today is "Letter Q day" at my son's preschool. For each letter day, he is supposed to bring in an item which starts with that letter, and he decided he would take a quarter...probably like the rest of the class will.

Lately, he's been putting his underwear on backward, so this morning when he was getting dressed for school, I asked him to come closer so I could see if he had put them on correctly.

When he was a few feet away and facing me, I said, "Okay. I can tell you have them on the right way."

He asked, "How do you know? The tag's in the back."

I said, "Well, there's that little...uh...pocket in the front, so I can tell they're not on backward."

He looked down and replied, "Oh! I can put my quarter in there!"

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

MSN Health and Fitness has declared fungi-filled facial products to be the newest "age-erasers". It turns out that mushrooms can decrease inflammation and improve the tone of your skin.

You should discontinue 'shroom application if skin irritation occurs, or if you suddenly develop an affinity for tie-dyed t-shirts and Joan Baez music.

Labels: Ramblings

My son and I got into a conversation about whether or not he had ever eaten lobster. He said that he's never had it, when I know in fact, that he has. Most recently, he ate some on New Year's Eve.

During this disagreement, his speech therapist would've shuddered to hear him say, "I not had lobster on New Year's Eve."

I corrected him and said, "You shouldn't say, you not had lobster. You should say...you DID NOT have lobster on New Year's Eve."

He replied, "See? You said I didn't have it, so I was right."

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

For Valentine’s Day, my husband and I promised not to spend any money on each other. The two of us, along with the kids, made handmade cards, and it turned out to be the best Valentine’s Day I can recall. Flowers and chocolates are nice, but these gifts were truly from the heart.

But, even without the painted pictures from the kids and a sweet poem from my husband, I am fully aware that my family loves me. I know this, because they don’t criticize my cooking…and I am one lousy cook.

The other night, while making spaghetti and meatballs, I realized halfway through cooking that I didn’t have the key ingredient for my sauce. That ingredient being the sauce itself. In this house, made from scratch is an unused term. Prego does it much better than I ever could.

So, what do you do when frozen meatballs are starting to thaw on the bottom of your Crock Pot and there’s no Prego in the house? Add some Hormel Chili, and a jar of tomato soup, of course!

And, my husband, my son and my daughter ate that “sauce”…and I use that term real lightly… over whole wheat pasta without complaint. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.

Labels: Family Life

Labels: Ramblings

American Gladiator challenges are named things like, “Gauntlet”, “Assault”, “Hit and Run”, and “The Eliminator”. Sometimes the competitors prevail, but most of the time…well, let’s just say they’re lucky to be wearing helmets.

Just imagine competing against people with names like Titan, Stealth, Militia, Fury and Mayhem. Here are a couple of their bios…

This is a lovely Swede named Hellga. She’s a delicate lady coming in a 6’1”, and weighing 205 lbs. In her spare time she likes to make meatballs from scratch and split wood with her bare hands.

Labels: Ramblings, Reality TV

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

Labels: Kids, Photos

My nine year old daughter was talking to a friend about going to the doctor.

The friend said, "I hate going to the doctor! I get really nervous."

My daughter replied, "I hate going to the doctor too! It gives me the shingles."

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

On yesterday's Oprah, Dr. Mehmet Oz and Dr. Michael Roizin made an appearance to tell us we are doing things all wrong, and that our bodies are paying the price. If my body is paying a price, it's forked out a good $1 million.

Labels: My TV Addiction, Oprah Cliffs Notes, Ramblings

This morning, I told my son not to fib.
He replied, "But, it's okay to fib! It's Fibruary."

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements

My five year old son and nine year old daughter have started racing each other all the time. They race to the car, they race upstairs, they race getting dressed.

The other night they were eating dinner when my son said he wanted to race to see who could finish their food first. My smart daughter said, "No. We can't race when we're eating, because you might choke".

My equally intelligent son replied, "Okay. If you finish eating first it's not a race, but if I finish first, IT IS."

Labels: Kids, Shameless Statements