1 little boy + 1 new bike = 1 happy boy

Grant looovvvves his Radio Flyer tricycle. It is red, retro, and very fun. Grant has given his brothers countless rides on the back of it while making train noises. They have ridden all over the house making make-believe trips to imaginary places. Now, Dad has decided Grant needs a big boy bike.



I warned Rich that Grant may not be very excited about a new bike since he loves his trike so much...









So, I guess this is what crow tastes like!

Oh, and Grant yells (very loudly) at our friends, neighbors, and even random people out walking, "HEY! YOU HAVE TO COME SEE MY NEW BIKE!!!!" If they do not stop he will chase them down.

Hoseshoe, mezuzah, garlic, rabbit's foot?

We need something around here to ward off the bad luck! Saturday was the biggest comedy of errors I have seen in quite a while. It will probably take me 3x as long as normal to type this post, but we'll get that last.

The day started off well. Sleeping in a little while Rich got up with the kids and made my coffee. Then, a little reading and some snuggly, lazy time. A few little house chores, blog reading, and email checking. And that is where it went awry. The predicted heavy winds were starting to pick up as Rich and J went off for some tennis, and I happily poured another cup of coffee with some Starbucks liqeuer so that I could settle in to some over-due emailing. My first email was to a close pal in Japan who has been living it up. There was so much to say, and she had requested a lot of info. So, it was not a short email. The power flickered just as a was signing off! AARGH!!! So, I set about retyping it once I was powered back up. I get to the end, J and Rich return , and as I am telling them of my annoyance it happens again. Rich reccomends that I copy andpaste into Word so that it will save automatically in case ofa another glitch. smart. Why didn't I think of that? Well, I highlighted all the text, right clicked to copy AND then POOF! huge gust of wind, weird noises, and no more power. Pole down across the street. So, Ill try to shorten to bullet form...

• email never sent (Leigh, I promise Ill get info to you ASAP!)
• no power for 12 hours
• tried to run errands, but traffic signals down or out everywhere and projectiles flying around. Turn around, go home, get nothing done.
• at home, J manages to spilt his darn knee open AGAIN!!
• oh, and there was laundry I had just put into the dryer, and a load washing in the washer, GROSS!
• Girl's night out (the one I didn't know what to wear to) hmmm, how to look cute minus lights and blow dryer...go to your friend two blocks over with a bathroom bigger than your house complete with 42 inch plasma. Still, pain in the arse to load all the make-up and hair sundries.
• after making self presentable, realize left purse at home and go back to pitch black house, stumble on something and hit knee on travertine floor (Ouch!)
• Hurry out to car as am running late. Remember that I need to close garage door manually since power still out. Pull door down a little, use heels of hand on flat surface to slide door the rest of the way down. HOLY CRAP! that thing flew down! Taking my hand with it, and smashing my fingers between two of the panels of the door. hand stuck in door. Have to lean over to use free hand to push door back up to separate panels to release crushed hand. Son of a B----! Giving birth without drugs hurt less.
• After some help, ice, and motrin from neighbor, I head to girl's night out. so nauseous I almost puke in husband's new car. Thankfully avert that crisis. My friend the doctor looks at my hand upon arrival at restaurant and sticks my hand in a glass of ice water, then informs me that I might have a fingernail by next spring. Great, Ill be looking like a freak.
• Putting dishes away with left hand today and I manage to somehow drop a dish on my damn fingers!
• am pecking out this post with my left hand while my right hand is in ice since my 3rd and 4th fingers are now bigger around than Rich's.

Now, on the bright side, girls night out was fun and I found something cute to wear. Would be cuter if I could drop about 10lbs. Any advice? Cuz, I am not getting the results from Yoga that Paige is!

So, I'm off to down a vicodin, crawl in my bed, and pray for a better week!

Tomorrow, a happy post with no kvetching, I promise!

How Old am I?

I ask you this because sometimes I feel as though I haven't progressed since junior high. Do you know what I just caught myself doing? I was putting away laundry and it triggered some synapse in my brain to remember that i have a squadron girls night out tomorrow. THEN, immediately, I start thinking, "what am I going to wear?" How stupid is that? What am I, 13? Its not a ball for heavens sake, or even a cocktail party. It is just dinner and drinks at a Mexican joint. Maybe it is because this is a group of people i hardly know. Anyway, it just struck me as completely juvenile that I worry about such. Or, maybe, I just need a better wardrobe. Now that I think about it, I always feel like this when the weather starts to change from one season to another. I feel stumped if I can't throw on some cute jeans, sexy heels, and a sweater. aargh! it just frustrates me that I don't think anyone else gives two thoughts to such trivial crap. Its not like I don't have bigger things to worry about. speaking of which, I won't say not to any positive thoughts and prayers you want to send my way. This "-ectomy situation", as Miss el-e-e so aptly named it is starting to get on my nerves. The "don't worry its nothing"s seem to be giving way to "hmmm"s and "well, the safest/only thing to do"s. And normally i deal with stress by baking and enjoying the results. I stupidly gave up all sweets for lent. Stupid, stupid idea. Maybe i can just fire up the kitchenAid and deliver goodies to everyone in the neighborhood. any requests from internet-land? I'll deliver!

Well, at least I know what I'll be wearing tonight. You can find me in some cute PJs on my couch with the boyz, popcorn, and a movie. Sounds absolutely perfect! especially since the wind will be roaring at 50mph and supposedly delivering some big'ol Texas hail!

El-e-e, this is for you... (I even managed to include relevant pics!)

Thursday Thirteen (the first and the last!)

Thirteen reasons I am glad I have all boys. Because sometimes I looong for the pink....

1. I get to buy expensive clothes without guilt for the oldest because I can divide the cost by three, right?

2. I have never once cursed after stepping on a Barbie shoe in my bare feet.

3. I get to buy more shoes for myself because boys only need three pairs...brown leather of some sort, tennis shoes, and sandals for the summer.

4. I figure that I get to sleep an extra half hour (at least) because I have no one's hair to fix before school.

5. I have to pay for three rehearsal dinners, but no weddings.

6. Have you noticed that there are no books or movies on the market titled Mean Boys ?

7. When I go to get a pedi, no one ever asks if they can come too.

8. No one in my house will ever borrow my clothes and not return them.

9. I have yet to hear anyone in my house argue about who "hogs the bathroom"

10. Being the only female in the house, makes me "special" in a revered kind of way.

11. I have never had to go see Barbie and the 12 Dancing Princesses!

12. I love seeing my boys doing "manly man stuff" with their dad. It warms my heart as much as when they help me in the kitchen. I hope that we have helped to mold some evolved, well rounded men whose wives will appreciate my efforts for years to come.

13. One day, I will have three lovely, quirky daughters-in-law that I will love like the daughters I never had, and I will have never once stepped on a Barbie shoe they left on the floor.

I Win. Where Is My Trophy?

In my never-ending quest to retain my title as Mother of the Year...

My eldest offspring split his knee wide open on Monday. It was pretty awful. I will spare you the details. Those of you who were present at Grant's unfortunate, poolside, chin-meets-top-of-brother's-head incident last summer..well, it wasn't quite that bad, but similar. It probably needed stitches. However, it was Presidents' Day and I had two extra 12-year old boys here from a sleepover. I just did not want to deal with getting them all delivered home (their parents were at work), sit in an ER waiting room, and it was his knee not his face. He is a boy. Knee scars are cool, right? So, some liquid band-aid (human super glue) and 3 butterflies later I was quite pleased with my medical handi-work. To keep the wound from pulling open, I even kept his knee from bending with a make-shift splint made with paint stir-sticks and an ace bandage wrap. Okay, Okay, Rich helped. He is pretty handy with that first-aid stuff.

Apparently watching ER and Grey's Anatomy for years and years does not make up for missing med school. It is still not completely better. And he has missed two days of school because I didn't want him hobbling around or bending his knee. Shoulda just got the damn stitches. I seriously might be the most selfish mother on the planet.

Whoever is in possession of the Mother of the Year trophy...please polish it up and send it right over!

My only redemption is that I have dragged myself and Connor to school a few minutes early each day to collect Jamie's teacher's lesson plans for the day and home-schooled the "crippled" boy on my comfy couch. that is redeeming, right?

When She is in Texas

So, I have been feeling the need to explain my title and sub-title up there in that brown box at the top of the screen. Even my oldest(in duration, not age!) and dearest friend did not know the story.

As some of you may have known, I was a bit apprehensive about moving to Texas. I have always thought of Texas to be a bizarre place. All that nutty (nutty to me anyway) Texas pride and bravado. Do you see people driving around with the Maryland state flag on their car? Or, say... Illinois? No. Do people in your state have swimming pools in the shape of their state built in their backyard? Didn't think so. So, I was skeptical of being the weirdo east coast type girl in a land of big hair, big jewelry, and 10-gallon hats.

It was very fortunate that a friend from way back in the Japan days was already living here and had the lay of the land. She is originally from California, so she also was a little wary of the crazy "Texas thing" as we call it. So, one day I heard about a book called The Girlfriend's Guide to Texas that was available at the *Cowgirl Hall of Fame gift store. (adorable shopping there!) I thought I would get one as a funny little, ha-ha, aren't-we-cute gift for my friend. I went to purchase it only to discover they were all out. The nice man at the store recommended I try the Yankee's Guide to Texas instead. I sweetly smiled and told him I was definitely not a Yankee as I take some amount of misguided pride in being a southern girl. To this he replied, "Well, honey, this is Texas, and if you ain't from Texas then you're a Yankee to us!" That is very close to verbatim what he said. Now, he was not being ugly, quite charming and funny, in fact. Thus the reason I didn't kick him in the shin. I did not purchase the book on the grounds that I am patently NOT a Yankee (although they are cool people too!) As evidence of my "GRITS-ness" and "belle-ness" I offer that this book , this book , and OF COURSE this book are on the console table in my living room. Not on a shelf people, on display.

So, there you have it. Mystery solved.

You can count on seeing sporadic installments of "Only In Texas!" (e.g. The Texas shaped swimming pool)

*It should be noted that my husband's grandmother was somehow involved in getting the Cowgirl Hall of Fame started and funded. And it truly is a very cool place. If you are in cowtown, I'll drive you there myself.

What is it with the drama?

Seriously. I do not like drama. Yet, it seems to be everywhere lately. Does it seem to come in waves for you all too?

Drama in the hood - Several gal pals in the neighborhood are all in the middle of very major life changes. They will all be better off in the long run though. Several are in different stages of marital strife for all different reasons. It has been heartbreaking to hold their hands and cry with them. I have learned some serious life lessons over the last year or so. Most importantly I have been reminded that things are very often not what they seem, and that you should never judge based on what you THINK. Thinking is not the same as knowing! Also, appearances mean NOTHING. Who gives a shit if the Joneses are "ahead" of you. Are they happy? Do you know if they sold their integrity or principles to keep up their "image?" Would you covet that new BMW if you knew that they were paying for it, literally and figuratively, for the rest of their lives? I have learned that sometimes you should leave the house a little messy, put off the yardwork one more day, and just enjoy being with the people you love.

Happy Drama in the hood - My best Texas gal pal (Grant's future MIL!) is NOT moving !!!! Yay!! This has been hanging over my head for about a month and I was seriously getting sick about it. It is not like the military where it sucked when your friends left, but you would be leaving too. No, now it is an even suckier deal. But, she is happily knocked up and is therefore staying put. Now I can have fun helping to decorate a nursery and throw a baby shower! Want to come? I throw a mean shower!

House Drama - Got all excited about a true find of a house. Problem with great finds in real estate, of course, is that all the smart, sassy girls with great taste surf real estate porn every day just like me. And their husbands weren't NATOPS officers stuck in the middle of a NATOPS inspection briefings when they had an appt to see the lovely house. And that means they put a cash offer on the house before you can get your husband to see it that afternoon. Oh, and I'll get to see it more often now because guess what? One of our friend's from the boys' school bought it! I can already feel the knife twisting a little when I drop Connor off for playdates.

Military drama - We had a green light H&F this past Saturday. Fun. With an exception that on Sunday morning one of the guys was headed for a little 12 month vacation from the flying navy if you know what I mean. We all drank, and laughed. But in the end, I think we all felt guilty. I know I did. His wife is adorable, spunky, and fun. I can't help thinking how it feels to be her. I felt guilty driving home that my husband would be leaving the next day for a regular 3-day trip. Rich later confessed to the same feelings only worse. I will be keeping my promise to her husband to make sure she has some crazy fun as often as possible until he comes home. (I also promised to take her to the "stripper store" before he comes home) All of this guilt (compounded further by Candi's latest news) heavily influences our ad nauseum, circular conversations about the reserves which are best summed up by a classic from The Clash:

"Should I stay or should I go now?
Should I stay or should I go now?
If I go there will be trouble
An' if I stay it will be double
So come on and let me know
This indecision's bugging me"

Needle Drama - I briefly wanted to be a doctor. Turned out I was squeamish. I didn't like needles, scalpels, or blood. I have seen more needles lately than I like. And, much to my surprise I'm going to be seeing more of them. Now, let me be clear, I do not have cancer. In December, I finally got the nerve to see a doctor about a lump I found early last fall. It is apparently not quite the boring fibroid they(and I) thought it was. So, this afternoon, I was awarded the lovely parting gift of a biopsy/lumpectomy. Fun! Did I mention that I do not like needles? Not a fan of scars either. They assure me I will still be able to wear a bikini top, but I am a little wary. Not to mention, the vain part of me is already trying to calculate how to make up for the lost couple weeks of Pilate's and Yoga while my exercise is restricted. How will I be ready for the beach? Not that I've ever managed to be ready in years gone by, but I was really really trying this year. Now that I am officially done having babies and all it seems like time to get serious about fixing this body of mine.

Are you still reading? For the love of God, why? Have you ever heard one girl talk so much about so little?

Jes Made Me Do It!

Okay, blogosphere, I am here. After much prodding from several friends, I'm actually going to start posting. I make no promises about quality of content around this part of the blogging 'hood. I like to think that I am charming, witty, and intelligent enough to have scintillating conversations, but I have never been a creative writer. Would you like a fabulously informative, but concise lab report? A position paper or compare/contrast ala English comp 101? Well, then I'd be your girl. But, this. This looming white screen with a blinking cursor that would allow me to convey the insanity that resides in my brain to the world at large? Too daunting. But, today is different. Today Candi made me cry. And so this first post will be about one of her favorite subjects...


Who the hell did Consumer Reports get to be their coffee testers?????

I know that I can be a bit of a food and drink snob. I'm not always proud of this fact. So, last week when there was the news blitz about McDonald's coffee being rated higher than both Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts I thought, "yeah, right!" However, I was intrigued. Was I just being a snob again? I needed to conduct a little experiment. It was bitterly cold here yesterday (for Texas anyway!),and I hit the MickeeDees drive-thru (with an open mind!) for an afternoon pick-me-up on the way to pick up the boys from school. I order my coffee. My total is a mere $1.07. Point to McDonald's. Great coffee for a buck? Fabulous! Then, at the pick-up window, the dream dies. First of all, I am afraid that the people behind me in line are going to shoot me for holding up the line as the nice lady keeps showing me my cup (before adding the coffee), after adding cream bit by bit, to see if it is an amount to my liking. Then we play the same game with some splenda. You know what? At Starbucks I can just order whatever I want and they know how to make it. period. I finally make it back out onto the street with my highly rated cheap coffee. I'm going to savor its comforting deliciousness in my last moments of quiet before the van is filled with post-school chatter. Holy Crap! I almost spit it out! That was the funkiest cup of coffee I have ever tasted. So, I am left with the question WHO were these taste testers? People from the taste bud transplant waiting list?

If you have functioning taste buds and live in Cowtown, might I recommend Eurotazza which actually is as good as/better than Starbucks?