Monthly Archives: June 2011

Strep, irresistibly sweet and some love

Strep has invaded.  It began its assault weeks ago by taking out the youngest.  It seems his school was an easy breeding ground for the nasty bacteria that finally took up residence in his throat.  The next victimized throat was that of his brother and on his throat heels came their sister.  We had several bottles of antibiotics going.  I thought the evil was on its way to hell.

Thought wrong.  And I knew it the morning when I pried open my morning hating eyes to a painful, red throat.  I have not experienced Strep since my childhood and man, does this bug hurt!  I had to brace myself for the pain associated with swallowing each time spit accumulated in my mouth.  I even contempleted carrying around an empty can to spit in.  I’ve never been much of a spitter and given the fact that I would most likely wear most of my saliva, I passed on the can idea.  The fever came next and although I was in misery, our chronically shaking chihuahua was in heaven.  I had just become her personal space heater.

Although not 100%, I am on the road to recovery thanks to some Amoxicillin.  During my invasion of strep I logged onto my blog to find a little medicine.  The first blogging Amoxicillin came in the form of an Irresistibly Sweet Blogging Award given to me by Kenniebeanie over  at   http://www.keeniebeanie.blogspot.com/ 

Keeniebeanie is one irresistibly sweet blogger herself and I am thankful for her recognition.  KB sweetness is contagious and you find yourself a little more sweeter and more smiley after you leave her blog.  Thanks KB!!

The second blogging Amoxicillin came from Redneckprincess over at http://redneckprincess.wordpress.com/ in the form of a blog lovin’ award and I must say…..I am feeling the love.  Redneckprincess is a person who loves her family and friends unconditionally and with everything she’s got even though love can hurt.  She is an inspiration.

So although I am not up to completing the requirements of these awards, I did want to give these two blogging lovelies a huge shout-out from this strep infected throat.  That hurt.

Thank you my blogging friends.  This medicine was better than what the Dr. ordered!

xoxo

Stalkers can be civilized – it just so happens.

I just finished watching an episode of the Kardashians.  It was on and my weed pulling fingers were too tired to change the channel.  Wait, that sounds really bad.  At least the excuse of “it was on and I didn’t feel like changing the channel” actually worked back in the stone age….the age of my childhood where we had to get off the couch and manually turn the dial (yes dial) to a channel that was not plagued with static.  But weed pulling cramped fingers?  Weak.  True, but weak.

The Kardashian episode reminded me of when we were in NY and we stalked just happened to land in front of the hotel that Kourtney and Kim were staying in.  My oldest was very poised as she posed for this picture, even with her Where’s Waldo Bright Orange Hat brother making faces at her….just trust me, she was.  You can see the evidence of Bright Orange Hat’s presence in the window reflection:

Look where I just happened to be!

We crossed the street to get a better look and just happened to see their balcony and Scott just happened to be out smoking and talking on the phone…just trust me, he was:

That speck by the bush with a cell phone to his ear is Scott (if you click on the picture you can totally see it)...just trust me, it is.

At one point we lost Mr. Pavlov and Where’s Waldo Bright Orange Hat.  When we finally found them Mr. Pavlov just happened to be doing his own civilized stalking.  If you look closely you can even see the drool marks he left on the window….just trust me, he did.

Now this is worth the trip and spit!!

And where was our middle child while all of the civilized stalking was going down?  Playing it safe.

Honest officer, I don't know those crazy stalkers. I was here the entire time...just trust me, I was!

It just so happens that we didn’t cause a scene even with the Bright Orange Hat.  We took our pictures and quietly left like good little civilized stalkers.

Just trust me, we did.

Summer, Hippies and Hoes

I was outside today (exactly one week into our summer vacation) and, as I hit my leg on the hoe, I smiled.  Smiled?  Yes, a big toothy smile.  Why?  Because I was reminded of this post that I posted last year at this exact time.  The next time you see a hoe, I bet you will smile too.

The place of my conception???

Our summer is in full swing and I love it!!  I love the carefree schedule that summer brings.  The chill out, peace, love and be happy days of summer.  The more I think about my emotional make-up I become increasingly convinced that my parents were closet hippies and my conception took place in a flower power van during a make love, not war convention.  I am so chill that reefer could be my middle name…but I’ll stick with Ann.

The clouds part, the heavens open, a light shines forth and a majestic voice is heard saying "I can't believe she is fishing!!"

What have we been doing?  Absolutely nothing yet everything!  We take this time to focus on the important things in our lives which are people.  Our days are filled with family, friends, devotions and of course fun! Fun that is, until I hear the expected words sung throughout our home– the aggravating wails of “I’m BORED” — and just one mere week into summer break too!  So this chilled out person kicked everyone outside equipped with hoes, rakes, diggers and whatever I could find in the shed and told them to go show my garden and yard some love.  I felt proud.  I nipped that boredom in the bud. Yes. I. Did.

Buuut, then I realized this single act of forced labor may come back to haunt me.  Why?  Because my youngest could be heard shouting “c’mon hoe let’s go love on mom’s yard.” 

Yep.  Priceless, I know.  And I even laughed…a little, until I visualized the repercussions of being out in a very public place and…you get it.  He loves to repeat new-found adjectives and has done so before (click to read)…quite well!

Of course these words spoken in innocence caused the older two to burst out into convulsions of uncontrollable laughter which encouraged him to shout even louder…aaannnddd a vicious cycle is born.

Sigh, note to self: NEVER give a 5-year-old a hoe and tell him to love on your yard because he’s likely to form a complete sentence.

Happiness is when the tooth fairy takes her dementia meds

This is worth at least $5

Continuing with the dental theme, Tres just lost another tooth (proudly displayed above).  I can’t keep up with this kid.  He laughs out teeth.  He sneezes out teeth.  He coughs out teeth.  Ok, not really but they are dropping faster than my aging skin.  And these baby pearls come with a high price tag.

Remember when .25 cents was the going rate and anything above was a massive bonus?  Today kids expect green backs…paper…dollars (plural!)  I learned of this fact by evesdropping listening to a ball field conversation where a few kids were discussing their tooth fairy earnings….earnings that could be claimed on a 1040EZ!!

But this tooth fairy’s kids are happy for whatever they find under their pillow because this tooth fairy is incompetent.  The incompetence grew worse with each child and sadly, Tres didn’t stand a numerical chance.  She often forgets about the tooth and day after day her kids awake to the [now stinkin’] tooth under their pillow.  So when the tooth is finally replaced with whatever she can scrounge up, elation is the emotion in this house.  The dejected “She didn’t come again…my tooth is still here…I think she has dementia!!!” is replaced with “I got a quarter!!!!!!! She came!!!!! She took my tooth!!!!!  Whoo-hoo she must have taken her dementia meds!!!”

We also do other things like attempt to capture the developmental moment…..

Holding a tooth penny and refusing to show the missing teeth

I won't smile.

Not gonna happen...my teeth are "private parts!"

I could claim mad genius.  I could say that it was the tooth anti-inflation master plan all along.  And when they blame me for ruining the reputation of the imaginary characters of their youth I just may.  But for once my disorganized, forgetful ways paid off.

I am not super mom.  I am not the organized, crafty type.  I am not Martha Stewart.  I am imperfectly human.  I dig in dirt without gloves and get dirt under my finger nails.  I make a mess, daily.  I live, laugh and love hard….

…and I forget about the teeth under my kid’s pillows.

From feeder fish to fun

My last post dislodged some thoughts.  I seem to experience mental constipation a little too frequently and memories/thoughts that are not routinely used are tightly compressed.  Blogging is my mental laxative.

And my most recent explosive blow involves trips to the dentist.  Remember those?  Am I the only one who experienced a cardiac standstill at the mere mention of the word?  The dentist struck terror in my heart.  I shook.  I prayed for deliverance.  I grew pale and clammy.  I went into shock (they just didn’t know that it was shock back then).

I didn’t always react like that.  During my first trip to the dentist, I was like a feeder fish in a tank of piranhas.  Back in the day we ate what we wanted.  We brushed our teeth when we wanted.  Dental hygiene wasn’t a big deal to us until the teen years.  Parents weren’t total freaks like we are now.  So it was no surprise that I had my share of cavities.

During my first dental visit, I smiled an innocent smile (bearing the evidence of the chocolate Hershey bar I had moments before ) totally unaware of the horror that awaited.  I climbed into the big, weird-looking chair that reclined sending my spit to conveniently pool in the back of my throat cutting off my air supply.  If the lack of oxygen and bronchospasms didn’t do me in, then the dental machinery (high power cheek and tongue sucker, drills, pic axs, high pressure water hose, mirror too large for my mouth, needles, fluoride inserts, big, ungloved dental fingers) did the trick.  Many times my mouth looked like the Edward Sissor Hands of the dental world.

After the mouth rape I was lead to the receptionist’s desk where a large, red fluffy box filled with cheap bling lived and stood in unbelief as my beloved Mother scheduled another appointment to return to this house of horrors.  The receptionist flashed me her pearly whites and informed me I could pick out a piece of cheap plastic.  Imagine how my poor brother felt.  Because they only offered rings, he either had to man-up and forgo a prize or connect with his inner pretty princess.  I guess that was their attempt to make the dentist’s office seem fun.  We just traumatized you but here….have a ring that will turn your finger green or break within 24hrs!

Today my kids have a very different experience with the Dentist.  He is one of their favorite people.  We brush.  We floss.  We practice excellent oral hygiene and as a result they have had almost no (my sugar loving girl had one) cavities.

But we can’t take all of the credit.  The Dentist office is a very different place today.  It is….more….child friendly.  Gone are the big, scary experiences and machinery.  Today we have “Mr. Thirsty,” a.k.a. the high power sucker, “Mr. Squirts” a.k.a. the jet stream water hose and “Mr. Tickles” a.k.a THE DRILL.  I don’t think that the name “Mr. Tickles” adequately captures the sheer experience of the drill.  But hey, if my kids are under the impression that he tickles then who am I to inform them that his tickle will electrocute their brain, travel down their spine and curl their toes.  Mr. Tickles it is.

They also have cool props to make the visit more fun.  Check out Tres, our youngest “Star.”

Cool shades to prevent the blinding from the oral interrogation light

Counting and checking:

No Edward Scissor Mouth here!

And lastly “polishing” a.k.a brushing!!

Polishing sounds so much more fun

Here is older bro, Dos getting ready for his turn.  Check out the face:

I'm next! Yay!

That face sums it up.

Prizes even a boy can enjoy!

Trips to the dentist have come a long way and so have the prizes!  Good-bye feeder fish, hello fun!!

Eye candy, alien guts and radioactive wallpaper: I want my kid’s life

My kids have it made.  I want their life.

When I grew up shopping consisted of a ONCE a year experience for the solo purpose of obtaining back to school clothes.  During this process, I had to painfully choose from several “I just can’t live without” outfits and quickly discovered that life continued with or without the cool color stripe on the side of the designer jeans.  I left the store with enough clothes to cover the important parts but not enough to prevent the dread of wearing the same outfit twice in the same week.

Fast forward to 2011 and let me introduce you to my daughter, who is able to shop like a politician is able to lie….easily!  Whenever the shopping mood strikes (and usually after she’s saved up her allowance) we are off to the local mall.  She leaves the stores looking something like this:

Sephora, an American Eagle bag so full the bottom is about to break.....

and on the back….

....a little eye candy and Abercrombie

When I grew up entertainment consisted of….well, this:

A game of cards and poker chips!

And hours and hours of outdoor play.  We were quite skilled in the art of mud-pie making and creating jewerly masterpieces with the butts of lightening bugs.  Lightening bug jewelery was especially a hit with the boys who got to gut the bugs without us girls stopping them.  It was all about the bling – even back then because bling is timeless.  We never uttered the words “I’m BOORRED!” nor expected our parents or things to entertain us.  We were the creative captains of our own entertainment and yes,  a few lightening bugs died in the process.

My oldest son would never think of gutting a lightning bug and smearing the bling around the wrist of a female friend.  Instead he guts aliens sans the gut smearing.  He has his own creative captain area good for hours of brain numbing entertainment.  Because we love him and desire to salvage some brain cells, Mr. Pavlov and I have conveniently placed a pre-set timer with a LOUD alarm to signal an end to the cerebral damage.  It’s the least we could do.

His creative mess: Captain chair, Xbox 360, Xbox, Wii and a small, little timer to limit the brain damage

And he is never short on options…..

ONE of the many drawers of choices

He just informed us that he has saved enough money for a 36″ flat screen TV to complete the entertainment paradise.

And speaking of saving money….if you have followed my Facebook and twitter updates then you are already aware that my “baby” saved for several years to dump it on this beauty:

ipad2 with beautiful (ahem, me) wallpaper

I know he finds great joy in transforming me into a radioactive beast with weird eyes however,  the next time he has a buldging bank account and the spending itch, I think I’ll work my mad mothering skills to convince him that a trip to the Spa would produce better results!  After seeing me in an avocado mask with cucumber slices for my eyes, I’m sure he’ll agree.

Yes, my kids have it made.  If, in their adulthood, they should blog about the difficulties and deprivation of their childhood then I will shove this post under their noses to effectively correct any misconceptions.

Did I mention that computers and blogs were non-existent when I was growing up?

I perfected my maniacal laugh thanks to Sears

After months and months of ark building rain, we have finally received a hefty dose of hot weather.  Spring was non-existent.  We went from 50’s to 90’s within days and most bodies convulsed at the extreme shift.

Not this body because this previous tar roof, baby oil drenched sun bather loves the heat.  The hotter the better!  You see, heat tolerance is my mutant power.  I may drip gallons of sweat that gross little gnats and other bugs get stuck and drown in but I can handle high temps like I was born in the jungle.  However, every mutant has an achilles heel and mine is that I like my sleep.  Somehow suffocating temps and sweat filled sheets tends to interfere with my rest and sanity.

When the thermometer reached mid 90’s you could hear the sound of A/C units coughing and sputtering from their winter slumber.  Instinctively, Mr. Pavlov and I headed for the thermostat to usher some cool climate into our hot box home.  But the “cool” blew out warm air.  We stopped and looked at each other with horror filled expressions as we said in perfectly blended harmony….

….”Sears never came!!!”  Ah Sears, stupid Sears.  Somehow we got roped into a price match from Sears that included a 10 year warranty replace/repair plan on the central A/C we purchased in 2002.  We should have trusted our screaming inner voices and stuck with the local heating and cooling company.  Two years ago our A/C unit began to leak cooling agent and the incredibly intelligent Sears repair men informed us that they would continue to add cooling agent until [insert big burly laugh] “AHAHHAAA-HERRR-HERR-HERR Your warranty runs out then your can pay to have it replaced.”

Um, AHAHHAAA-HERR-HERR….NO! We pushed the issue and after jumping through every imaginable hoop and hours of phone conversations, we were told the A/C would be taken care of and replaced.

Remember the little /repair listed in the warranty? Well it seems that someone, somewhere found the exact part that our A/C unit required and Sears decided to opt for the repair rather than the replace.  Sounds reasonable enough?

The “Part” took 9 MONTHS to come in!!  I think they dug it out of a land fill somewhere.  Sears decided to make us wait 9 months through the heat of summer because they found ‘The Part” in some remote corner of the globe.  Yes, we went without A/C the entire summer last year and after the second day of not sleeping due to suffocation and sweat drenched sheets, this heat walker got a little cranky.  I began to experience flash backs of my childhood days where cool cloths draped all over my body became necessary in order to sleep.  I got twitchy.  I called Sears daily and laughed a maniacal laugh when they informed me it would be a “few more weeks.”  I cried.  I threatened.  I sweated…buckets.  I regretted making fun of my dad for placing a ceiling fan in every room of their home.  I dug out the old school floor fans and tried to make the most of the injustice.  I slept outside for a few minutes until the mosquitos and their all you can eat buffet forced me indoors.

Old school A/C

Finally in December they came to our home with “the Part” and made the repairs to the A/C.  It was DECEMBER and due to the 10,000 feet of snow that buried the outdoor unit, they were unable to adequately charge it.  They were freezing and had frosted snot droplets on their nostrils.  I smiled but then became serious as questions regarding their job performance formed in my mind.  On a normal day I question the quality of their work and somehow I believe freezing temps and frost bite would render these men A/C repair impotent.  But before I could become too concerned, these highly dependable Sears employees said they were finished and would come back in April or May to fully charge the beast with the cooling agent.  They informed me that we were placed on the April/May schedule and they would automatically return.  I nodded and shut the door.

Enter MAY 29th and Mr. Pavlov and I stood staring at each other as beads of sweat formed in our crevices and our A/C blew tropical warm.  SURPRISE!!!!  Sears never came or we’d be feeling some Polar Bear happy temps.  I made the calls while squeezing my stress ball.  Somehow this highly dependable company with its well-trained employees “forgot” about our situation.

Day three of 90 degree weather and we are becoming oddly comfortable with the suffocation and our wet sheets.

Sears said they will be here tomorrow.  Santa Claus is real and so is the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy….and I love my sleep deprived state!