inconceivable!

I am a girl that is easily amused, entertained and gladsome. I live for simple pleasures and I try to appreciate my life and keep my focus on the good stuff. This morning, on the way to the bus stop, I was nailed by a 6 year old for being "crabby-licious" (she was purple-licious, the baby was cutie-licious, the boy was stripey-licious, the daddy was fun-licious and the dog was stinky-licious). Clearly, I have been putting off the wrong vibes. With all the back-to-school preparations and the blistering heat, I have lost sight of the very things that I am most grateful for. That being said, I have trumped up a list (boy, do I love lists!) of some of my faves, in no particular order:

* free rides on the turnpike (yippy skippy this happened today!)
* 8P (kids in bed time)
* warm baths
* Ben & Jerry
* turning on the radio and hearing my entire best song (not just the last 26 seconds)
* pretty dresses
* trying on jeans that I haven't worn all summer and realizing that they still fit!
* Red Neck jokes
* man with no arms and no legs jokes
* trashy soaps
* a certain toddler asleep on my shoulder
* baking cakes
* morning cuddles with my sweet boy child
* best girl friends
* my little honey's blonde ringlets
* picture slideshows
* getting my hair did
* stripes & polka dots
* the smell of Play-Doh

Gosh, these seem to just gloss the surface of my otherwise dulled brain, but it's a commendable start. I challenge you all with the same assignment - create a manifest that inspires you to be contented and tickled with your humble surroundings. Keep it handy and refer to these goodies whenever you are in the downy dumps or when your children complain of your rotten attitude.

thrown for a loopy loop

I have crossed the threshold from a little bit off kilter to totally loopy and it's only 7:30A. Wednesday started with an indepth analysis of the shody plot and lack of character development for the movie PeeWee's Big Adventure (thank you Netflix) by our resident 8 year old movie (and everything else) critic. I forsee that the rest of the day will unfold in an elaborate battle between Thing 1 and Thing 2 over everything, including, but not limited to: sand art, who can snap the loudest and allegations of "almost" doing things unkind to each other. This, of course, will be followed by bouts of SSR (sustained silent reading to the lay people), Quaker's Meetings and essays on how to make good (or at least, better) choices. I will wash, dry, and partially fold 14 loads of laundry, vacuum wood shavings and shredded cheese, make meatballs, and mop up yogurt spills, all while holding a toddler, stepping over (and sometimes on) a dog and refereeing the aforementioned squabbles. I predict that I will deviate from "it's already Wednesday?'' to "it's ONLY Wednesday?!" by noon-thirty and there will be a mandatory quiet time that will not really be very quiet as children will endlessly and noisily question the duration of the silent epoch. But, as 3 o'clock approaches, I will be renewed and refreshed and eager to spend one of the last few afternoons with my kiddos before they head back to the school grind. We shall converse like civilized people and perhaps, drink lemonade and snack on limited edition Oreos and I will once again, wish for a few more summer days. This, obviously, is one of the upsides of loopy - the abilty to forget (or the inabilty to remember) what occurred mere minutes ago...

you may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not (the only one)

Didn't think that it was possible, but I actually discovered a household chore that I loathe more than scrubbing toilets. It is called scraping an entire pack of Stride Shift Flavor Changing Gum Citrus to Mint out of the drum of the dryer (after the dryer cycle was finished drying the chewy bits to the clothes and the dryer itself). As I was waist deep into the belly of the sticky beast, grumping at my foolish disregard of a certain 8 year old's query, "have you seen my gum?", I thought that this might be a good hiding place. It's cool and it smells nice and since not one of my children typically offers to help with the laundry, it would probably be very quiet. I ran through this fantastic daydream scenario for a couple of minutes, but like most of my daydreams, it was tragically interrupted with the crazy, unhappy thought that I might get stuck in there for days (again, because it would be the last place that anyone would dare look for me for fear that there might be a clean and dried load that was ready to be carried upstairs). Can you imagine the repercussions of leaving 3 little people left unsupervised for more than 7 minutes? I pictured the toga party scene from Animal House crossed with Old School and a bit of the Chipmunks for good measure and speedily emerged from the Kenmore. Haunted by visions of a shaved dog, 24 devoured birthday cupcakes, and reckless rides around the house on the canister vacuum, I finished the task at hand in near record time (if there was a record for this olympic sized event, I would have totally beat it) thanks to my Sol-U-Mel (Melaleuca plug), I was able to remove the viscid residue and return to reality - I had cake and frosting and fondant flowers to tend to afterall!

this is not the Holiday Inn!!

Find yourself making empty threats and and spouting off absolute gibberish when dealing with your children lately? Show of hands? I find that I can barely jell a complete nonsensical thought in my brain. I am not sure if it is summer vacation or if I have been absent in the grown-up workforce for so long that I don't actually know how to construct complete thoughts anymore or if it has anything to do with the chemical fumes in Aisle 12 at the grocery store, but whatever the case, I have become a mush brain. I did go to college and I did work for a spell, but something switched when I first became pregnant and my grey matter seems to have dramatically deteriorated after each consectutive baby. I used to be smart, darn it! Those days are but a mere memories (on good day, a blur on the others), and I now hear myself threatening to take away video games and TV (a much more painful consequence for me because, now I need to find other things for them to do) and endlessly nagging them to do or not to do something - anything. I sound like the broken CD (who am I kidding - one of many) in my car that just keeps playing the same line over and over and over again (I should really just throw it away, but I am holding onto hope that it will miraculously mend itself during the dark hours). Or I ramble on about things like, "This is NOT the Holiday Inn! I am not the maid!" or, "This is not Burger King - you can not have it your way!" Who is this crazy lady? I really wasn't looking forward to sending the kids back onto the big yellow (although it always looks more like yellow-orange to me, but whatever) bus, but today, I can't wait! The thoughts of taking a shower by myself and cleaning the bathroom without interuption or watching trash on TV (weakness of mine - shh) are getting me through this day. I hope that I feel stronger tomorrow and I can appreciate their reindeer games, but right now, I want Calgon to take me away!!!

son of a beach - an evolutionary tale

You know what I love most about Beach Thursday? The beach (A+ if you guessed correctly). I love the smell of the salt water in the air and the sound of the surf lapping onto the shore and the feeling of the warm sand on my feet. The beach experience itself has evolved over the years (not my favorite). I have traded in the teeny bikini for a full coverage tankini (skirt optional) and the good old baby oil for SPF 9024. I now work on building sandcastles instead of my tan and the little voices of children laughing have replaced the cassette boombox that I used to drag around with me. My towels have gotten bigger and my time sitting down on them has gotten smaller. I can now carry 4 children complete with pails with shovels, lunch for a small army, a chair, first aid kit and my keys without dropping an item (or a kid). I can tolerate being kicked in the face with sand a dozen times and the seagulls stealing PB&Js out of my hand (they did thank me one day by dropping some good luck on my leg). I exchange harried looks with other moms and secretly curse at the delusional, self-absorbed teenaged lovebirds strolling past me. And often, a cold, wet, toddler wants to crawl into my lap to warm up and maybe pee, since I refuse to buy those stupid swimmer diapers (she loses 3 pounds when I take off the ocean filled cruiser). But you know what? It's still the beach and sometimes, even if it is only for a minute, I can close one eye and remember the days of too long ago when I went with only a towel and an attitude and I rotated every 20 minutes to make sure my color was even from front to back and I could poke fun at the frazzled mothers (much like me these days). It's been a great summer and I am looking forward to enjoying a few more Beach Thursdays after the big kids start school in a couple weeks, but it won't be the same. Sadly, I will miss the little stinkers and I look forward to next year's beach adventures. Although, it might be fun to sneak away by my lonesome some afternoon and throw rocks at the gulls. Anyone is welcome to join me...

Mrs. No More Mr. Nice Guy

The sears repair guy was scheduled to come over this morning (Monday - the 4th worst day of the week after Tuesday and Wednesday but before Thursday, and then Friday). My dear hubby carries the title of is Mr. Fun Guy while I am defaulted the good old leftover Mrs. No More Mr. Nice Guy. What does this mean on Monday? Well, after not selling furniture all weekend (a skill that I have honed), I am greeted in the wee hours of the morning with children that would rather play with Daddy (except when they are hungry or tired or need to get the play doh out of a lego guy's foot or rescue a fallen littlest pet shop from far behind the TV). "Aw, is it Monday already?", they grump. First order of business - attitude adjustments. Enter the repair guy at precisely 7:58A (3 minutes earlier I would have still been rinsing the shampoo out of my hair because 8A-12P really means 3P, right? Wrong! I am the only person in the history of people that actually has a repair person arrive at the designated time.) at the side door - cue barking dog and panicked screaming toddler with stranger anxiety and, of course, Thing 1 and Thing 2 are wrestling in the middle of the living room over silly putty and a tiny blue plastic bird. Oh, and did I forget to mention that I was on the phone with a very important associate (well, friend, but it wouldn't have mattered either way) and I scream, "I will rip your hand off if you do not unleash those toys you beasties!" - outloud! I meant to just scream on the inside, but, it's Monday and I haven't adjusted the sensor just yet. (Pretty sure that when the man with the nametag reading Denny said he needed to go to the van to "get a part", he was really calling child services.) I apologized for the screaming, "hehe. Kids. Yes, that is an actual, real life guinea pig in the tourette of that toy castle. No, we aren't zoned as a farm or a daycare. And sure, I will answer a few survey questions." Good grief. I hereby relinquish my appointed duties as Mrs. No More Mr. Nice Guy and declare that I will be Invisible Emergency Only Lady until Wednesday.

all quiet on the FB front

I recently took an involunatry 3 week hiatus from my computer. I am quite sure that the black screen of death was the ultimate nail in the coffin of that relationship, but I prefer to remember that it was a mutual decision to not see each other anymore. The first few days were absolute torture - I would stare at the blank screen and beg to come back to life and then over the next few days, mourning turned to bitterness (stupid computer, I never really liked you anyway), to sadness again and then, finally, acceptance that my poor little HP desktop was no more. We replaced her and I was certain that there would be some crazy search party looking for me and wondering , "where, oh, where could Sarah be?", but alas, nothing. Lots of sales updates from my good pals at the Gap and Banana and my true love Johnnie Boden, but very few concerned messages from friends. Frantically, I checked the internet connection and Facebook and much to my disappointed surprise, life was still going. Slowly, shyly, I reemerged onto the scene like a 7th grader crosses the dance floor (painfully and pathetically and so uncertain as to what lies in the crowd of boys on the other side of the gym). It was like tuning into a favorite soap that I haven't watched in 8 years and finding that the same people were doing the same things to each other's cousin's uncle's brother-in-laws as they were before I was gone. It was like being home. Few things were different, someone I knew from grade school might or might not be a porn star, but most things were the same - kids were going to and coming home from summer camps and people were posting new pictures of their pets and days at the lake and it was good and I was welcomed back into the comforts of my friends (kind of like they didn't realize I was absent for a duration - weird). I am proud to say that I am actively back to facebook stalking (trying to confirm or deny this wicked porno rumor, and leaning more towards the confirming zone) and now with my new lease on internet life and all of the thoughts that I conjured up while I was deprived of my beautiful cyberworld, I am now writing my fun blog, which, by the way, is something that I have wanted to do for quite some time now, so hooray for me! (and all of you lucky readers!)

giant driving uterus

Since the promise of baby #3, I have become a minivan mama (sedans don't allow for more than 2 car seats because once you have crossed the threshold of 3, you don't qualify as a woman anymore anyway and you might as well just be a giant driving uterus). Gone are the days of free rides on the turnpike and obscene gestures from teenaged boys - I am someone's mom and even more ruinous, I am a mom to several, presumably, millions of short people. And so, with this outlook on my life (again, let me emphasize how very much I adore my babies), I carried on with my days of drop-offs and pick-ups and errands and other good motherly chores, until one fateful day. Stopped at a red light near the pet food store, I felt the MPV quake as an approaching wreck wallopped up on my right. Nice. I pretended not to look and instead concentrated my gaze on the margque across the way (why wouldn't I be totally interested in where to get wood pellets and pork chops?). As I was refocusing my attention to the red directional arrow, I quickly took stock of the reverberating beast - monster tires (check), Calvin peeing on something (check), gun rack (check), tough guy personalized plates (check), blaring ACDC music (double check). And then he honked. Don't look. Honk honk. Turn and look the other way. More honking. I flashed my left hand - hello, married, kids, minivan. Now yelling. Honestly guy, get the hint (although I did brush my hair today and put on a clean t-shirt...) NOT INTERESTED! Finally, after what seemed like a 37 minutes of this foolishness, his light turns green and he screams, "Hey lady! Your rear tire is low!", and he screeches away leaving me in the dust of his nudey lady mudflaps. Snap. Lesson of the day: don't take yourself too seriously and if someone beeps at you, pull over to the nearest gas station and check your air pressure.

plastic Happy Meal penguin with infinite wisdom

I am a hoarder. Not one of those people on TV that needs an intervention or anything, but a packrat, nonetheless. I have also raised a trio of children that share my compulsive desire to save everything including, but not limited to, Happy Meal toys. Every once in a blue moon, I am struck with the chuck-it bug (archenemy of the aforementioned packrat) and so it was the other day that I was driven to rid my home of everything non-essential, when I happened upon a plastic Happy Meal penguin that I know I have thrown away before, but with 3 kids, obviously, I must have missed this little sucker. As I threw him into the rubbish, atop some egg shells and wood shavings from the guinea pig's cage, he spoke to me. He said, "Just smile and wave". Weird, I thought. That toy must have been at least 2 years old and I think that since the people at McDonalds don't always invest much time and effort and money into the quality of the Happy Meal toys, this must be a sign. But, whatever, sign or no sign - bye bye penguin. For the rest of the day, everytime I threw anything away into the trash and even as I was throwing the trash bag out the side porch door, I heard the penguin's desperate plee for my attention. Why are you tormenting me plastic penguin, I wondered? But alas, it finally occurred to me that this plastic Happy Meal penguin with infinite wisdom was trying to enlighten me and teach me a valuable lesson! And so here it is: Just smile and wave. Guess what? It actually works! It worked on the cranky customer that didn't want my help in selecting a new sofa this weekend (they didn't buy it, but they smiled and waved back, so - victory!) and I think that it worked on a neighbor that usually doesn't acknowledge me as we pass each other in the 'hood (got a wave back) and best thing ever - it works on the kids. I am sure that they will dull to this latest addition to my forever growing list of defensive tactics that I use to keep tantrums and crankies at bay, but for now, it's all good. They don't know how to react, which is fun, but it also gives me the extra minute that I require to finish washing the dinner dishes from the night before. So, thank you plastic Happy Meal penguin for your gift and may you rest in peace with the Strawberry Shortcake doll with smelly hair, somewhere near the bottom of the trash bin at the transfer station.