I've moved

I know. It's been forever. I decided to start over with something new.

Catch me over at my new blog: anothermomblog.wordpress.com

See you there.

:)

Just Sayin'

So...I can ignore my taxes this year (and a few years more) and then just say I'm sorry, and it's all good, right?

;)

Credit Limit

I didn't get the sweater.

There's a cardigan that's been calling my name at one of my favorite stores. A soft, comfy, relaxed, cotton cardigan. Last week, it went on sale (finally!) and the store sent me a coupon for $25 off any order. I planned to order today.

But Saturday, the five-year-old came moping down the stairs with her music player. You remember--the CD player with two microphones we bought her for her birthday? The loud, headache-inducing kiddie karaoke machine? With the "High School Musical" CD? 

Dead. Dead music machine.

I replaced the batteries. Still dead. I shook it, poked at it, messed with it. Nothing.

Then I remembered. We'd tried to use an electric adapter with it during a recent playdate, when we ran out of C batteries (I rock that way), and it worked for a second, made a loud popping noise, and stopped. We fried it. And Saturday, my princess wanted to sing. 

This particular music machine has been discontinued. Hard to find, as they say. But I found one. God bless and keep Target. Course, it was $10 more than the last time I bought it. But fair and square, we were the ones who killed it--and that's an editorial "we," which means one person on particular is responsible.

This morning, I got online to buy my sweater. Saw the headlines--banks failing, companies closing. Thought about the one long-term contract I'm nervous about losing. Thought about saving vs. spending, and thought about how much my daughter loves to sing. Not play Wii, not mess with computers, not hole herself up with a cell phone and her thumbs to text all night long. Just sing. Loudly, and with abandon.

I ordered the music machine instead. It'll be here Thursday. In all its loud, headache-inducing glory.

There will be other sweaters. But she'll only be five this one time. 

Best Superbowl Commercial

Just for the record

Lil' Bill has zip to do with the cartoon. It's after Bill Clinton. Obama shook up Clinton's cabinet for his own, so I started calling him lil' Bill. See? Not horrible.

But just for you, I'll call him Billama. OK?

***smooch***

Listen Here, Newbie

Dear Lil' Bill:

You are cordially invited to come chip all the ice out of my driveway. Show me how big and bad you are, you manly Chicagoan! 

Pretty easy to throw 'round insults from a house that's totally cleared for you, isn't it? Pretty easy to dis the roads when you're all riding around in an armored, bionic limo with an escort of, what, 300 Suburbans?

Seriously, dude. I'm with you that we're wimpy in snow. But today isn't snow (you should step outside the gates sometimes...it'll do you good). It's ice. About a half-inch of the stuff, coating everything. 

Yesterday's snow day was crap. I have a theory about it, but that's for another day. Today's, though, was legit. Trust me. I had to go out and chip and bang and break and crack and shovel just so the dog could take a crap. Serious stuff, at least in this neighborhood. And at least one of your girls goes to school in this neighborhood.

You're pretty new in town, cowboy. Best to shush your mouth on the wisecracks and critiques 'til you get the lay of the land. Else, it'll be high noon with the pollsters before you know what even happened.

ps--Feel free to shuttle my kids around in your mega motorcade. Make my life easier. And then open the school.

XOXO

Kim, the mom

Not a Sermon

I know. Bruce Almighty was a comedy. Got it.

But there are some fantastic lessons in that movie, which is why it's one of my all-time favorites. One of the best scenes is a conversation between Bruce (Jim Carrey) and God (Morgan Freeman), shortly after Bruce parts a bowl of soup a la the Red Sea and declares that a miracle. God says:

Parting your soup is not a miracle, Bruce. It's a magic trick. A single mom who's working two jobs and still finds time to take her son to soccer practice, that's a miracle. A teenager who says "no" to drugs and "yes" to an education, that's a miracle. People want me to do everything for them. What they don't realize is *they* have the power. You want to see a miracle, son? Be the miracle.

That speaks to me. On a number of levels.

First, on a personal theology level, I do think miracles happen when people work to make them happen. None of this hocus-pocus nonsense--no burning bushes, no poofs of smoke, no Lazarus from the dead. Miracles are a mom working to bring her autistic kid back from the place he's vanished to...and there's a glimmer one day. A miracle is when a kid from the city gets help with his schoolwork...and goes on to college instead of to the corner to deal pills and powders. Miracles happen when people make them happen.

So that's the God part.

The other part is more political. You can stop rolling your eyes--this is good stuff! A lot of people, people I know and love, have this idea in their head that they're owed. They deserve a house. They should have designer clothes or new cars or new video games. They just should be able to stay home just because they should. 

It goes beyond. People are owed unemployment. The government needs to roll out this program or that benefit because that's its job.

Here's the deal, gang. Life doesn't owe you squat. Being born does not give you the right to claim stuff. You want a house? The luxury car? The Tommy jeans?

Work for them. 

You want more money in the bank?

Stop spending it.

You want television after the digital roll-out? Go buy the damn converter box. Get off your duff and do it. For yourself.

The bailouts...oh my word, the bailouts. And the stories coming from them--corporate retreats at five-diamond resorts, private jets. Because they're owed. They deserve it.

Pardon my French, but bullshit. If you can afford all that stuff and you've worked to earn it, then by all means. Enjoy. Caviar for breakfast, Jeeves.

But nobody should hand you that stuff. Not your mom, not the government, and not me via my taxes. Get up and get out and make it happen. Capitalism at its finest.

Be the miracle. Be your own miracle. You won't believe what you can do.

The photos aren't great, but...

Last night's creations. A bracelet and a necklace. Both in warm brown gemstones and gold Celtic beads.

Babbling

A new president. I wish him all the best. I hope he really can deliver on the promises and turn things around. Truly, I do. Who wouldn't? Looking forward to a new start on that front. I'm also very glad nothing catastrophic happened during the ceremony today. With 2 million people and so many closed roads (so they were all relying on Metro), it was like fish in a barrel. I held my breath all day. Props to the organizers and Secret Service. Very, very well done. Even an old crusty Republican like me thought it was a spectacular ceremony.

DD is sick. Fever, red cheeks, red eyes, general misery. She spent all day on the couch today. She's usually such a tornado! I've already decided to keep her home from school tomorrow. Little booger.

My brother and sister in law could use some prayers if anyone has them. They had two terrible losses this week. I feel awful for them. :(

I got some new beads yesterday. Haven't made anything since before we moved...probably since September. These are brown-hued gemstones and some little gold Celtic beads. Gonna make me a bracelet. Looking forward to it. It's a nice creative outlet.

I'm very proud of a friend of mine. In the past two years, she's done some amazing stuff for her family, and now she's taking a trip to start doing some amazing stuff for other families. Truly one of my heroes. Rock on, my friend!

We watched Bear Grylls last night. No rucksack. Disappointing.

I organized all my pantry closets yesterday, and today, put all of our movies (and we have a lot of movies) into plastic sleeves and then into binders by category--kid movies, drama, action, comedy, etc. I have two under-bed boxes upstairs waiting to house the kids' out-of-season clothes. My linen closet is something Martha Stewart could be proud of. My office got the Treatment last week--shelves organized, drawers cleaned out, stacks filed. It feels really good. I hope it lasts.

Stupid Ravens.

And My Parents Paid for Prep School

We came up with a new game last night.

We were watching Bear Grylls--that goofy British guy who eats all the gross stuff on Man vs Wild. I was laying on the floor playing with WDCL and DH was in a chair, actually, like, watching the show.

Bear said, "I was hanging by my rucksack," and I popped up off the carpet. "He was hanging by his WHAT?" I didn't hear "rucksack." I heard another word. A potty word. That rhymes with "rucksack." Even ends with the same four letters.

DH busted out laughing. And that was it. Every time poor Bear said "rucksack,"--and it's a word he likes a lot--we re-translated the sentence, substituting the naughty word instead.

By the end of the show, I was in the kitchen literally doubled over laughing. Seriously good times. Bear talks about his rucksack in many different contexts, which were effing hilarious with the other word thrown in there.

I think we'll watch a lot more of Mr. Grylls from here on out. Y'all should try it. *snort*

WOOT! Dere it is!!

The Cabinet

I'm just calling Barack "Lil' Bill" from here on out. Oh my GOD, man, have an original thought from time to time! You took Clinton's cabinet trading cards, shuffled them, and tossed them on a table to pick your team. You did!!

So much for change. *snort*

(ps--I also think Sarah Palin *really* needs to shut the hell up and crawl back under her frozen rock. Before anybody gets all partisan. We are surrounded by idiots...)

Randomness

Day 3 of the healthy thing. Got up and hit my rower early this morning (I did the Hip Hop Abs video yesterday and both almost died and really had fun with it) and still eating pretty well, minus a handful of chocolate chips last night (damn those things!). The Weight Watchers recipe of Pad Thai we made last night was really good and a definite keeper. Even DS ate it. Rock on.

Roland Burris reminds me so much of Jesse Jackson, I can hardly stand it. What an opportunist. Dude, the governor was told NOT to appoint anyone. Of course you weren't seated! But way to show up for the cameras, buddy, and make a big ole' scene. Throw race in there too. Nice. Have y'all seen the articles about his tomb? Holy ego, Batman. Looking forward to either letting him mesh into Congress with the rest of the hotheads or going home to fade away.

I kickstarted my project 365 blog. If you're interested. ;) We'll see if it sticks this year. I hope so.

Up from 12:30 to 3 last night with the WDCL. Vomiting. Super (and she didn't have any Pad Thai, so don't even go there). Up at 5:45 this morning to get everybody out of here on time. Must find more coffee...

Healthy...

Day 2 of the resolution. Yesterday went pretty well, and today is going well too. I did a new exercise DVD this morning that kicked my abs, after walking/running yesterday. Looking forward to exercising outside more reliably when the weather changes.

Two quick things I've learned: You can scramble an egg by whipping it up with milk or water in a cooking spray-coated mug and microwaving it for 30 seconds. And it's the perfect size/shape to fit on a lite English muffin.

And if you take a half-cup of rolled oats and mix them with a half-cup of unsweetened applesauce, a little honey, and a splash of water, and microwave that for two minutes before stirring in a handful of frozen blueberries, you have a yummy, pretty healthy breakfast that sticks around awhile. Cinnamon and/or bananas are good in there too.

So that's that. I hope everyone else's resolutions are being met!

ps--Confidential to Rachael Ray: If the "lightened up" version of your salmon cakes includes three cups of breadcrumbs and a cup and a third of regular mayo, I'd hate to see the "regular" recipe. Holy cow, woman!!

New Year

Today is the day I celebrate the new year--everybody's going back to school and work after two weeks. Yee-ha! DD woke up at 5, all excited to see her friends and show them her loose tooth, and DS woke up when I dragged his tangled-up self out of the bottom bunk at 6:30, mourning seven hours apart from his love, the Wii. 

I'm looking forward to getting back to work myself. Today, there are dozens of phone calls to make and I'm hoping to make a dent in really organizing my office, which is where all of my stuff was dumped when we moved in two months ago. There's filing to do! :)

Resolutions: eat better, exercise more, and be more patient with my kids. I'll be 39 this summer. I am determined to not hit that age at this weight or being the cranky mom. The house, surprisingly, has done a ton to bring down my stress with my kids. Now that we're not all on top of each other every waking moment, I feel calmer. Room to groove. 

I'm sitting here, at 7:22, in my workout clothes. Kids go to school in 20 minutes. I'm heading over to Potomac to pick up some Cuisinart accessories I scored on Freecycle (love love love Freecycle), then to the store to stock up on fruit, veggies, and grains, and then to exercise and work for the day. Sounds good, no?

Happy new year, my friends!!!

The One Where Nobody Got Hurt

New Year's Eve. 

Good goddamn riddance.

It started off with a bang--I got to spend four or five glorious hours at my in laws' house. 

Fun times.

Times were made all the more fun by the lack of electricity at their house. Not an unusual occurrence--the power goes out if you sneeze too hard there--but since they're on a well, it means no flushing and no running water, on top of no heat and no television and no nothing else. Which meant DH and I spent the day hooking up generators, cleaning, repeating things three or four times for MIL to actually listen, and trying to keep our children from killing each other.

Fine. We finally left. The gods smiled.

Briefly.

I was dozing in the car when we rounded the corner to home. You know--the dream house that's become a money pit? The one with the pinhole leaks and the rotted walls and the wonky electricity wiring and everything else we grin and bear? That one.

So I'm dozing. We round the corner. I hear DH almost yell, "Oh my GOD!" I fling my eyes open, and see our pear tree. Split, straight down the middle, one half laying on the ground like a dead person, and the other standing up saluting his mate. This is the pear tree that's huge and dead-center in the front yard. The one that shades the picture window in the living room. And the one that DH offhandedly mention we'd have to take down in the next few years, before a storm split it down the middle.

He should stop speaking of such things.

So we spent the afternoon in arctic temperatures and Siberian winds, cutting up the M-Fing tree. I rented a trailer for Friday, so we can take the f-er to the dump and be rid of it. And then I'll get to call a company to come grind up the stump so we can plant another tree there. 

Did I mention the recession? And the husband who works on commission? Selling ads, for the love of God?

Stupid no-good wind and stupid, stupid soft-wooded pear tree. STUPID pear tree.

We had red-hot plans for New Year's Eve, you know? Watching The Polar Express for the 25th time with the kids, and then falling asleep on the couch. Cuz life rocks like that when you have urchins running the joint. 

Instead, I'm nursing frostbite on my legs (it is TOO frostbite!) and wind burn on my cheeks and looking to half a day more of chopping up wood, to expose the entire front of my house to the elements and make it look like a new housing development.

I HATE new housing developments.

But it didn't fall on the house. And nobody got hurt. And tomorrow, this no-good sumbitch year will end. Be. Gone. Foul. Beast. And on January 20, my unicorn will be delivered and everything will be sparkly roses and sunshine, yes? Cuz that's what we were promised. Effing Utopia.

Stupid.

Tree.

Think

Dear Obama:

How's that honeymoon working out for you?

*snort*

XOXO

Kim

Randomness

Sorry. It's been awhile. It's the most frantic time of year, made even more so by moving and renovating and volunteering and such.

Today was my great-uncle's funeral. People I've told that have said they're sorry. I appreciate it, but really, he was 96 years old. Married for 67 years--my great aunt, who is in fantastic health, is 88. You don't get a much better run than 96 years. It's sad to see him go, but man, would that we all got so much time to do what we do.

I'm having serious issues with this auto bailout. Chrysler, Ford, and GM have made cars that absolutely suck for decades. I say that having owned several. They blow. I mean, take apart a Honda, see how they do it, build cars that don't require regular tows, and then bail your damn selves out by providing a product people want and developing return customers and a base there. Or go under--you really do deserve to go under. And have a chat with your unions about realism and such things...but that's its whole own blog post. Unions. Feh.

Someone called me today to see if I could take her lunch duty slot in 2nd grade tomorrow. I did two lunch duties last week, and I said no. I've never done that before. But I have a hot date with myself for sushi tomorrow and some errands to run, and I honestly need an hour to breathe. So no, I'm sorry. I can't take it. *sigh* Selfish me, huh?

We started ripping out the first floor powder room two nights ago. Rewired the main light to move it to another wall, patched the drywall, and ripped out the godawful scallop shell sink. Now, it's painting and installing the new vanity. It's been a long time since we've done this kind of work. I told someone it's like labor--you forget about the pain after awhile. Did I mention I'm never moving again? Like, never ever? I should mention that.

School's closed for inauguration. It's never been closed before for it. But damn if we're not shutting down for the Unicorn Corps. Nothing like a little partisanship in the school system, huh? Sweartagod, not a word about money for four years, people. Nothing. I'm not listening.

Just a Thought

Dear Ford, Chrysler, and GM:

I'm about to bail you out.

Ready?

Stop building cars that suck.

Voila.

Love,
Kim

ps--It's not about the salary, stupids. We all know with your annual six-figure bonuses, a dollar salary offer is meaningless. Try again.

pps--I heart my Honda. Heh.

Where Not to Shop

Another Black Friday, another trampling at Wal Mart.

Tis the season...every stinkin year!