I am my own stalker

You may have noticed the traffic feed on the side of the blog at some point. It is just a fun snapshot of who is visiting your blog, and where they live. Or, it's a way to dog your good friends who never read it since you can see they are never on. In fact, I was recently doing this very thing to a few friends, and I mentioned that I even  have someone in Missouri, and a couple in Illinois, who I don't even KNOW, who are regular readers of the blog.

Well, fine readers, turns out those loyal readers, who I don't even know, and who always seem to know when I have just posted and log immediately on to devour my words of wisdom and inspiration, are.... ready for this.... yours truly.

I am my own stalker.

Apparently, when I am on my own blog, I register in as Macks Creek, Missouri, Sparland, Illinois, Carbondale, Illinois, and occasionally, Kokomo, Indiana. Aside from Kokomo, all of these are towns I have never even heard of and certainly none even in the right state for where I am actually logging in from.

So there you have it. Take the traffic meter with a grain of salt.

R.I.P. 1985 pj's

Rachel 1985-13th birthday

Age progession to 37 years old

Ok, so here's the deal.

I am a very practical person, and I have a hard time throwing things out that technically still 'work' fine. Like these pajamas. Somehow against all odds, these 1985 pj's from Sycamore still fit me. However, them there pj's ain't in the best shape anymore. I've got things goin' on like this:

Enormous armpit hole. Yup. They're koala bears.

and this:

Cool! See through pajamas! Can you see my hand?

I must resign myself to the fact they although they still 'work', they really don't work anymore.

So, fine pj's, as you move on to greener pastures of dustcloth or car rag, just remember, you were loved.

This is why....

... we moved to the country.

The sweaty woman with the plastic pool

This was me today.

First of all, I despise Wal Mart, but as I mentioned, we were spending some birthday money, and Jack had heard one of the DS games he wanted was at Wal Mart. Plus, I saw they had plastic pools, and wanted one. It was 95 degrees out after all. So, we find the most ginormous plastic pool they carry, and I carry it ALL THE WAY ACROSS the Super Wal Mart to the checkout, kids in tow. Did I mention it was 95 degrees? Did I mention I had to CARRY IT all the way across a SUPER WAL MART? Did anyone offer to help me? No. Did I get stared at a whole lot? And does Rachel like to have people staring at her? When she is carrying a large plastic swimming pool and herding kids? Is this not a recipe for a complete sweatfest?? Indeed.


So, being born with spatial and depth perception lack-itis, I load the kids up and drive up to the entrance to load the ginormous pool into the back of the van. Was there any chance this pool would fit? Absolutely not. Were more people staring at me wondering how I thought I would fit the pool that was about 4 foot too wide, into my van? Surely. Drive to parking spot, and unload kids again. Post candy bar just consumed in car. 95 degrees. You get it. Walk back into store. Adjust pool from one hand to the other in lobby of Wal Mart, hit woman just walking in with pool. I only know this because I heard a thump. I can't see anything. Yell "Oh, I'm sorry!" from behind pool. Woman hisses and rushes off. She probably was shaking her head too, I don't know. I couldn't see anything. Wal Mart greeter is yelling "Are you sure you can get that alone?" I ignore her and keep walking. Return ginormous pool that I just bought, buy medium size pool. Reload kids. This time drive around to garden center area to load pool directly into van. Load pool. Have employee staring down the sweaty deranged looking woman who just pulled up and loaded a pool into her van that she surely mustn’t have paid for. The nerve. Saw face of said woman and decided not to ask any questions.

Home again, home again, jiggedy jig.

Am I smarter than a first grader?

We were talking about how to spell a friend’s name, Isaiah, and how it was difficult to spell because it had so many vowels.


1.
"Jack, do you know what vowels are?"

"No."

"They are a,e, i, o and u."

I know that.

"Oh, ok. Well did you know that EVERY word has to have a vowel? Isn’t that interesting? Can you think of ANY word that doesn’t have a vowel?"

"Ah, yeah, 'why'. Like, Why are you doing that?"

"Uh,ahem, WOW Jack, you are right! The word why doesn’t have any of those letters in it! You are so smart!"

2.
"Jack, did you know tomorrow I have to buy new tires for the van? Do you know how much they are going to cost? $500!"

"Do you really want to spend that much money on those?"

"Well, no I don’t, but you know, you have to, for safety, because the old tires wear out."

"Oh, that sucks."

"Ah, ahem, Jack, you know, that really is sort of an ugly word. "

"Oh yeah, I meant to say, that’s a bummer!"

"Yeah, ahem, well, I know Mommy says that sometimes and I need to not do that because it really just isn’t a great word."

Funny how words we might throw around freely sound so much uglier coming out of a kids mouth. Or do they sound just as ugly in our mouths but we are just used to it?

3.
Discussion regarding giving away money, toys, candy, etc. to our friends. For some reason, this has become an appealing idea, to just give our money to our friends, soooooo we’ve had to have a big discussion about what friendship means, we don’t buy our friends, we don’t want them just to like us for our stuff, etc. For example, he recently said, "I'm thinking about giving Brooks $20, but I'm not sure yet." Ah, no, you are not doing that!
Apparently we are not the only ones going through this. Jack came home on Friday, throwing around "this was the best day EVER!" with $2 in his backpack that a friend had given him. Hmm. So, I tried to explain that he had to give it back, we don’t give each other money, etc. I decided to email the mom and just give her a heads up in case she didn’t know her son was doing this. (I would want to know, wouldn't you?!). Luckily, she was grateful and not annoyed. So then we are going to Wal Mart, with money given to Jack by grandparents, for his birthday. So he says, "So, Grandma, and Grandma and Pappy, and Grandpa and Donna, just GAVE me this money, right? So why can they do this, but I can’t? "

"Hmmm. Well, that’s complicated."

Luke: "What does complicated mean?"

"Well, it means it’s hard to explain."

Whew, well, look boys, we're at Wal Mart!

I’m off the hook to try to think up an explanation for that one. It's too hot and my brainpower has already melted for the day.

Garden and graduation

Luke had his graduation ceremony from preschool last night.

 

I'm sorry but there's something so damn cute about 4 year olds in a cap and gown.

Luke and his future wife friend Abry

******************************

In other news, I got my garden all planted this past weekend. I spent a backbreaking 6 hours finishing it up. I am sure my hobbly mc'hobblington foot did not speed things up. So, I now have expectations for.....drumroll please............

• Asparagus (look look!!! what I found popping out of the ground~ I had no idea it would look just like a stalk of asparagus sticking up! Only 2 of the 11 have sprung, but still!!!!!!!!!)   

• Potatoes....I am super excited to say I have 12 PLANTS through the ground. Even if nothing else succeeds, this was the one thing I look the most forward to harvesting. I have such great memories digging for potatoes in my grandparents' garden-it's like a treasure hunt.

• Onions
• Carrots
• Lettuce
• Green Beans
• Cucumbers
• Bell Peppers
• Tomatoes
• Corn
• Canteloupe
• Pumpkins
• Gourds
• Sunflowers
• Assorted herbs, including oregano, basil, dill, and mint

The herbs are guarantees since they are already plants....

So now, I sit back and continue to wait for good things to happen. And, I lied, if nothing but the potatoes succeed, I will be kind of pissed off.

Wish me luck.

The perils of a night out

We used another younger boy babysitter Saturday, for the first time. Like the other one we tried, he is a younger sibling who was offered up when the older sister wasn't available. We gave explicit instructions on bedtime, and that they could finish playing outside, and then come in and start getting ready for bed around 7:45 to be in bed by 8:00. We also asked for him to have Jack clean up his room before bed. Those were the instructions. Here's what really happened: they came in after we left, the babysitter started up The Incredible Hulk, rated PG-13, which we had on DVR, and they watched all of it and went to bed at 9:30, with Jack's room still a mess.

I was so mad!!

First of all, there was blatant disregard of the bedtime. Secondly, and most importantly, we don't have the kids watch PG-13 movies. We have never seen this ourselves, but I can assume it includes things I would not want a 4 and just turned 7 year old watching. UGH! I was mad about it all day on Sunday. It's like he didn't hear a single thing we said, or didn't care, because he wanted to watch a movie. Now, how do I deal with that? Never ask him again? Tell his mom about it when/if she asks me how it went? (She knew my hesitations about using 7th grade boys) What do I do when I call for the sister and she can't, but they offer him instead? I need to deal with it but do not love conflict. Wimpout answer would be not call for either sister or brother again so I don't have to deal with it, but then I lose a good babysitter. Dammit!

This is gonna hurt

I've got me a pair of Fred Flintstone toes.

Now, talking about warts might not be the most exciting topic, but, if you want to get to know me, ya gotta know me warts and all. Because, I'm an oversharer. It's what I do.

And really, this isn't about warts, it's about my aversion to pain, and awe of miracles. I am an über wuss. I cannot lie. I hate the anticipation of pain, and actual pain. Probably the anticipation more. Which is why, when I was preparing to give birth to the aforementioned large baby, I told them to bring it on. Gimme all of it and don't stop! So, I show up to the hospital, ready to go, and ask if I can go ahead and get the epidural now. Oh, gee, sorry, you're only 1 cm, she tells me. And then, she left me in the room, alone with only my fear and my husband. I then proceeded to miraculously go from 1 cm to we're ready to push! in one hours time. Still alone, save for the husband who was now certain I'd bygone lost my freakin' mind, and the giant bear who'd crept into my body and made me feel like I was going to implode at any moment. Long story short, natural childbirth, for me, the wimpiest gal on earth. Not pleasant. I now know, I was traumatized from that, and probably should have had some counseling. Seriously. I could not talk about my birth experience for weeks, and honestly believed I could not go through that again, so sadly, Jack would be my last, until he was about 4 months old and the "birthing event" had grown a bit hazier in my memory.

So, that said, EVEN THOUGH I went through that, I still get really scared for anything involving pain. So, I've had these warts on my toes that have been invincible to the other 10 appointments I've attended in the last 6 months and all of the injustices that have been done to them in those appointments, so the day came to just slice and dice. Ouch. This is gonna hurt. I even got a prescription from the doctor for Tylenol with codeine, with instructions to call anytime if I needed something stronger. So, I'm not the only one that thought it was gonna hurt.

But somehow, miraculously, it does not. At all. I keep waiting for the numbness to wear off, and the beastly pain to set in, but it hasn't . And, that must be a miracle. Because when you look at it, as I am forced to do regularly as I change the dressings, it sure looks like it should hurt. Bad. Even Rob thinks so. So, either my toes have just given up on the brutal treatment they've received for 6 months and have rolled over to play dead, or it's just God giving me a break for some wonderful, undeserved reason.

I'm voting for God.

Editor's note: Rob wanted me to show this steak on a stick unwrapped. Thought it would increase readership or interest. All of my loyal (3 or 4) readers can thank me that I outvoted him. I still have some dignity left.

Happy 7th Birthday Jack!

I can't believe you are 7.

I can't believe I popped this chubby 8 lb 15 1/2 oz baby out 7 whole years ago, and that after that birthing experience, I swore for 4 months you'd be the last (see next post for more on that).

I can't believe after bringing you home from the hospital that first week, that I sat sobbing at the awesome responsibility of just keeping you alive, and that it was up to me to do that.

I can't believe, at 7, that you still have the same amount of manic energy that caused you to slam into a wall at 23 months old and get stitches in your forehead.

And despite your energy and incredible boyness that is you, I couldn't love your charm, smile, desire to please, incredibly strong hugs and frequent kisses, and sheer enthusiasm for most things, any more than I do now.

You are handsome, smart, and lovable and I'm so glad God picked me to be your mom.

I love you Jack!

King and Queen

Rob was King yesterday, and I was Queen today.

It doesn't happen this way too often, but we celebrated the King's birthday yesterday, and today, of course, was the Queen's Day. We always try to do whatever the other person wants to do on special days and wait on them hand and foot to create the best day possible for the other.

Yesterday, Rob opened his day with golf, his favorite pasttime. Nevermind that it was 41 degrees. Seriously. He had to wear long underwear under his jeans, in May.

Here's the boys singing Happy Birthday to Daddy...

Yup, those are candles in a pecan pie. Mmm mmm.

That was followed by a soccer game for Jack, and a babysitter last night so we could go see a movie, Iron Man 2,  and have a drink. (Which, by the way, 3 year olds do not belong at. Come on people. Get a babysitter, don't drag a 3 year old into a movie with lots of shooting and explosions. We wouldn't even take a 6 almost 7 year old to this). Images once inside a child's head cannot be removed. Side soapbox there.

Finally we have a recent picture of the two of us!

Today we went to church and then to a park for a picnic, my favorite pasttime. 

Then we zipped home to work on the dirt pile garden where I so fervently stare and try to will something to grow soon besides dandelions. I now have asparagus, potatoes, onions, carrots and lettuce planted. Another week or so for the rest according to local gardeners, when we can hope that frost warnings are past us and we are safe. Tonight, a movie of my choice, and back scratches and foot rubs to boot.

Aah, I love to be queen for a day.

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

A day of highs and lows

Today, I laughed till I cried. You know the kind, where you start and you just can't stop, and then about a half an hour later, you think about it and laugh again? I looooooooovvvvvveeeeeee laughing like that and it sadly doesn't happen often enough. Then, shortly after that, I felt like crying based on a story Jack told me about school. And so goes the life of a parent......

So now that I've built it all up, surely it will never sound as funny to you as it did to me. Luke made a Mother's Day book at preschool, where the teacher asks them a question about their mom, and then fills in whatever answer they got.
First is a picture of my mom:

I'm not sure if I'm in a cage or what's going on there

Here's the questions and his answers are bolded.

My Mom's name is: Mom! . She is 20 years old, has blue eyes, and blonde hair. My mom is 29 feet tall, and weighs 26 lbs.

If my Mom could do anything for Mother's Day, she would: go to Hy-Vee to get treats.

My Mom's favorite food is: Cheetos and watermelon. She makes it 2 times a week. Here is her homemade recipe: She cuts the watermelon and opens the package of Cheetos then we are ready for lunch!

Why did God make mothers? So you will have a mom who is married to watch over me.

How did God make mothers? With magic!

Why did God give you your mother and not some other Mom? Because I needed a mom.

I love you because... you are happy, you are nice, you are the best!

Love, Luke

Honestly, that totally made me laugh. Looks like I need to improve my culinary talents huh? Some lunch I've been making us! But obviously it's helping me keep my rail thin weight of 26 pounds so I'll keep it up.

Then, on the way to soccer, Jack told me about a conversation with a classmate in the bathroom. He said the classmate told him that he hates him, that he is fat, and that he doesn't want to be his friend. My heart just sank. I asked Jack what he said then, and he said, "Nothing! I didn't want to get in trouble!" He claims he didn't do anything to bring it on/irritate this boy or say anything first, so I'm not sure what's up with this. Seriously, first grade and we are dealing with this stuff?? It's just so sad. You try to protect them and teach them to be a good person and the real world rears its ugly head so early.

I found this on my nightstand later that evening:

Aw shucks.

Milwaukee

We just returned from a quick jaunt to a place that will always be very near and dear to my heart, Milwaukee. Because, as Rob says, "We drive. It's what we do". So, we knew it was time for a road trip.

I moved to Milwaukee just out of college with my first job as an assistant buyer. Being a Badger by birth, a move back to Wisconsin was right up my alley, and I absolutely loved it. There is SO much to do there. In our 10 years, we had so many significant things happen—first job, we got married, first house, and we had both of our kids there. I remember weekends where Rob and I would have at least 4 great options for the weekend, like a summer festival, a baseball game, or an event at the zoo. There is always a festival going on in the summer, and no matter where you go in Wisconsin, there is always beer. I remember our first church fish fry when we moved to Indianapolis—I asked where the beer was and they looked at me like I was a heathen. Same thing with the state fair— where's the beer? Sorry ma'am, not here. This is the state fair. Really, I don't have a problem, I just like a cold beer.

Which segues me right into our trip to Milwaukee this last weekend. This was the first beer I enjoyed on our trip:

Schlitz. Seriously, you can't make this stuff up. Can you believe they still make this stuff? Didn't Laverne and Shirley work at Schlitz? I don't know, our host, Scott said something about how they just started making it again or something. They sure haven't done much in the way of updating their look, that's all I know. But, I love beer, and I will drink any kind of beer, so I was game.

Apparently, the trip wore Luke out. Guess he could sleep just about anywhere.

Saturday, we drove around downtown and stopped by the lake to walk on the beach and feel the water. Brr. We confirmed it's still mighty cold in Lake Michigan.

Luke, Jack and the lovely Ried girls, Isabel and Gabrielle

Saturday night, we went to a beer and wine tasting, and having indulged in Smithwicks for dinner, I stuck to the beer at the tasting. Mmm mm good.

So, after a weekend full of beer, donuts, and other assorted sundries, m'lady is not feeling too svelte and attractive right about now.

Or, in the words of the authors of Skinny Bitch,

Of course, it's easier to socialize after you've had a few drinks. But being a fat pig will hinder you, sober or drunk. And habitual drinking equals fat-pig syndrome. Beer is for frat boys, not skinny bitches. It makes you fat, bloated, and farty.

Amen sisters. Just tell it like it is. So tomorrow, back to the diet attempts.

Thanks to our friends, the Rieds, for your hospitality and friendship. It's always nice to add another layer to our years of memories and experiences together.