TV

There was a tragedy that occured in our household. It involved a TV and a MAJOR malfunction. A lifeless screen hung from the wall for days as the kids complained and I became increasingly frustrated with their bickering and whining....but the TV didn't care what it had deprived our family of or what chaos it had caused. It just stared at us with its pathetic blank screen.

Thank God Almighty that we made it through the World Cup. I cannot imagine the disappointment of my middle son, being that soccer seems to be his life these days. But we did miss a few days of the Tour de France and a couple "important" episodes of Man VS Food and WipeOut. Hubby and I didn't have our usual 2-3 episodes of Criminal Minds, to which we watch together to relax....if serial killers aren't super relaxing, I don't know what is?

They say that going through times of difficulty make you a stronger person. Well, if this wasn't a time of difficulty. Last week was an energy-sucking week that left me lifeless and moody by the weekend. Mostly because I didn't have my TV. Not that I allow my kids to sit and watch all day, but it is nice to be able to cook dinner and have them quiet and ingrossed in some form of animated edu-tainment. It is also a luxury to be able to sleep in until 7:30 AM (ok, 9:00) because the kiddos can enjoy some early morning cartoons. Yeah, remember, that was the week when the sun came up, like, at 4:00 AM and the kids rose with it....

So, I think I may have received a little less sympathy from my husband when I told him about how difficult life was without the TV. I may have gotten a little upset that he chuckled and thought that I was a little silly. He tried to give me advice when I just wanted to vent about my horrible week sans HD visual stimulation. I was a little stupid to think that it was the TV's fault.

I did learn a few things without TV. I learned that my kids do have imaginations, even if my oldest reminds me that he doesn't have one. If they can't watch WipeOut on TV, they can surely play it in the living room. Radio is a pretty cool thing to listen to even when you are not in a mini-van. They can read books and "clean" their rooms for hours-on-end.

The boys did get hungry more often, but I gladly fed them. Two of them even wanted to help me prepare the food in the kitchen. We had lunch together and had longer conversations because no one was rushing to get back to see if MythBusters blew up anything cool.

I never would have imagined that TV would have such a geat impact on my life, but after this last week, I think that I have put too much faith in my rectangular friend. Sure, there is a time for TV. When Mom needs a nap because she spent all day keeping her kids entertained and away from the TV, that would be an appropriate time. My youngest has received reinforcement on sounding out letters and combining letter sounds to make words from TV. He sings old folk songs (lost treasures from history, I believe) that he's learned from a "tune hound". As long as our family learns to keep it to that instead of filling our minds with hours of "smut", I think that we will thrive and avoid remote-control thumb arthritis.

Intervention

I'm sure that you've noticed that I've been blogging a lot about myself lately. You may think that it may be like therapy...."Talk about yourself...How does that make you feel?" Or maybe it's more like self-realization, but I'll tell you the truth. I just like to talk about my feelings. Well, that really isn't true. I don't like to talk about them. I like to type about them. No immediate feedback. I can say how I feel and not have anyone tell me that I'm crazy to my face. It hurts less when someone types it in as a comment...and usually by the time I read the comment, I think to myself, "I AM CraZy!"

I've never watched the show Intervention, but I've seen enough commercials between all of our DVR'd Criminal Minds on A&E. Today got me thinking that I may be a little obsessive. Most people have wierd querks that border OCD, but I think that after today's realizations, I may need to consider therapy (Thanks M for helping me realize my true core....I've been lying to myself all of these years!) It all started with the garbage today. I am pretty obsessed with sorting my garbage. Our city gives us color-coded bins (just like in preschool...very easy for those that cannot read yet). Today I thought that I'd challenge myself. I threw everything into the regular garbage and now I have this halo of anxiety that I cannot shake. I have opened the garbage a few times to take a piece or two of paper recyclables out, but why can't I just forget?


A couple of weeks ago, my mom asked if I had stopped by her house while she was away. I said, "Yeah. I needed to pick up those chairs and the watermelon." She said that she knew that I was there because I always pick her dead stalks from her daylillies and leave them in a nice pile. It's a ritual. I do it everytime. I have a compulsion to pick my mom's weeds. I didn't even notice that I was doing it until that moment. But then I remembered thinking to myself that daylilies would be so nice in my garden because then I could pick out the dead stalks whenever I wanted to. Pretty dang freaky if I say so myself.

My closest friends and family members know full-well that I have a type "A" personality, but I think my strange actions go beyond that. This weekend we were filling our raised garden beds with manure, amend, and soil. I had another compulsion to crush all of the clods until it was smooth and clod-free. In reality, was that going to happen? No way. It's like trying to sift the sand clean at the beach with a plastic toy sifter....OK. I have tried it. We filled 2+ bags full of nails, wood, and other dangerous junk. I know that poor Stephen kept on going for hours only because he knew that I was on a mission.

I can't go to bed without rubbing the tips of my fingers against the threading of my pillow case. I've bled and am currently dealing with dry skin because I just cannot stop. I sometimes notice that my boys do it too. Could it be hereditary? It's a very odd habit. Yesterday I noticed that my youngest would not get out of the car until he rubbed the edge of his blankie on his chin. At Ikea, at JoAnn Fabrics, at Trader Joe's, at Target..... The sad thing is, I was looking at him and was thinking, "I bet that feels pretty good, like rubbing my fingers across the threads of my pillow case."

So, just like Intervention, Extreme Make-Over, What Not To Wear, Hoarders,...someone's gotta start the healing by nominating you to be on the show. Who's gonna "man-up" and start helping me?

Run, Run, Run

I am a little nervous. I wouldn't admit that to anyone face-to-face, but I'll tell the cyber-world. As some people know, I've been a wannabe runner for a few years. I've done a half marathon, a 10-mile, a few 5K's, and signed up and promised friends that I'd run in other races, only to disappoint them or myself by not going. I'm not the kind of person to exert any additional force to make myself a faster runner. I'm the kind of runner that just goes out to run and does it in the least painful way. I don't wear cute running gear and I don't have fancy running shoes. I don't even wear a heart rate monitor because it seems to me, totally pointless when I am trying to keep my heart rate as low as possible. I smile when I pass the Nike Women store because they have such cute outfits for fit runners. Maybe one day I can wear a "Runner's have the best buns" t-shirt, but until I can for-sure say "I do have nice buns", I will just have to save my money. So far, I have about $5 in change towards my purchase.

So, I'll tell you why I am nervous. Tomorrow is the big 4th of July 5k run. I did it last year and it was fun, but road races have always been so nerve-wrecking for me. I have disappointed myself each time that I've run. I deal with a major issue with self-esteem. I am never good enough for myself. Even if my goal is just to finish, by the end of the race, finishing isn't enough to feel content. If I train and I don't hit my goal time, I am in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

So the plan for this year was not to set goals. Just RUN! I've got 3 great gals running with me. Gal #1: Steph, my Sat. morning therapy running partner. I think about the 10 mile race that we ran together until I pooped out during the last 2 miles and finished way benind her. I wanted so badly to stay up with her. Gal #2: Mari, my fun-and-silly-run-when-we-can-get-away-from-the-kids-or-when-the-husbands-don't-have-plans-to-ride running partner. I ran the 4th of July race with her last year. I guess I went out too fast and just pooped out, again, near the end and had to walk for a minute. Gal #3: Kari my newest and sweetest running friend. I've never run with her, although she assures me that she runs at my pace. I already told her that my feelings wouldn't be hurt if she just decided to take off and "smoke me". I know that none of these ladies would ever leave me behind to suffer alone...or would they? Nah. (Would they?...[that's my lack of self-esteem talking])

I have decided that I am just going to go out there tomorrow, nervous, but excited to spend some quality time with friends that care about me. I am hoping that I can help to make their run less stressful by having a good laugh or too, or even slowing their pace down a little bit. I might make them wear glittery stickers on their arms like me and bows in their hair. I'm done trying to be a serious racer...because no one would ever take my times seriously anyways. I am declaring myself an official fun-run racer. You know, the people that real racers hate because it cheapens their sport. But you know, I'll just say it, those compression socks aren't very flattering or attractive even on the best looking runner. It almost makes real runners look like fun-run runners. See you on Main Street Huntington Beach tomorrow with all of my bells and whistles!

Just in case you have no idea what compression socks are:

Three

When some think of the number three, they think of the number before four or after two, the Holy Trinity, a triangle, a snowman (I just made that up).... I want to share with you what I have learned about the number three in the last 4+ years.

First, it is an odd number. Two is a pair and two is balanced. Two hands, two eyes, two parents in a marriage. Then comes three, it is unbalanced...to say the least. It requires a mini-van and a bigger home. It becomes a struggle for two parents to make 3 events during a single time period. Driving in a small car filled to capacity is never a comfortable thing. Now I am sure that some families thrive on their large numbers in a small living space, but as you may recall, even the Duggars upgraded to a larger home. 19 kids!

Three means that there may be times when you can't remember the names of your own children. Some parents may forget with two, but when there are three involved, you also suffer from dizziness while trying to recall the name of the child that you are going to yell for because he left the fridge open and the Top Ramen boiling on the stove, unwatched.

Three means pure chaos when going to the store for a roasted chicken and a can of corn because the migraine that left you laying in a fetal position until 30 minutes to the arrival of your husband from work wasn't going to cook dinner for you. They all want to "drive" the cart and "help". Those self-scan registers are actually not time saving when you bring three kids either. Add a minute for each item because they are all fighting to scan the next item.(Mental note: buy 3 items or don't use the self-serve)

Three means LOUD. Sure, they're wrestling and having a good laugh on the floor of the doctor's office, but in five minutes, someone will be wailing and complaining that "so-and-so broke his arm". Even the boys' hand-held games become loud when a coveted game is not shared. There are very few of those in our house because, in our home, the games must have an "E" rating (and we all know that those are the games in the $15 bin.....'cuz nobody wants them).

Three can be a beautiful number too. Three very different personalities with three very different love languages. I am a better mother because I am skilled and have many more experiences to draw wisdom from. My stress level is down and I don't really care if they haven't bathed or changed their clothes (I've got way more important things to worry about now, like who is blocking me on their FB account). I am more appreciative of the moments that I have with each boy individually. Three means that there will almost always be someone around to keep you company...or to annoy you. Someone's gonna always make you laugh and someone's always going to make you cry.

A family of four was great, but is was so balanced. I believe that with our family of 5 we strive for balance and we appreciate our time together more. We make a greater effort to be supportive of one another. Money, time, food, privacy, a hand to hold....we have learned to not take these things for granted.

Three ginormous hearts that are filled with love for the people that brought them into this world. That is what makes three so perfect.

I Need You Now!

Lady Antebellum   More CMT Music   More CMT Music Videos

I heard this song a few weeks ago that I really started to like just recently. It’s one of those drown-your-sorrows-in-your-glass-of-beer kinda contemporary-country-love-songs. Lady A (as I’ve read their fans call them...according to my very reliable source, Wikipedia) has written a song about a day in MY life. How could they know about my most personal-daily relationship between my husband and me? They must be like God or Santa (my middle son explained to me that they could possibly be the same person because they both know EVERYTHING).

Let me paraphrase some of the more meaningful lines from the song and describe how I have come to believe that it is about me:

So this lady (me) is looking at some pictures and can’t fight the urge not to call this guy (my husband) that she is missing. She is wondering if he’s thinking of her because she thinks of him all the time. She told him that she wouldn't call but she's lost all control. It happens to be a quarter after 1:00.

There are two ways in which I relate this part of the song to myself. First, the romantic me says, “Yeah, that’s how I feel at a quarter after 1:00 PM in the afternoon when I miss my husband so much that I have to call him just to say ‘hi’ even if I know that I’ll be interrupting his work…..but I love him so much that I NEED to hear his voice on the phone.” The second situation in which I can place myself into the song looks a little like this: I am sitting in my room on the bed with the phone in my hand and tears in my eyes and I am crying to my husband, “It’s a quarter after 1:00 and I NEED you to come home and help me tame these kids……I can’t handle it!!!!!” Oh, and the song gets better.

Verse two is where the man (still me) is taking a shot of whiskey staring at the door waiting for this girl (my husband) to sweep into the room. It’s still a quarter after 1:00.

Don’t get me wrong, I am sure that a shot of whiskey at 1:00 AM is great, but sometimes, it may be better to have one at a quarter after 1:00 PM. I have considered a similar drink for a similar time. The other take on this verse would leave me as the “puppy” waiting at the door for my husband to arrive home….and isn’t that the truth?!!! I love the guy so much, but I have to be honest, I’m usually chipper due to the fact that he’ll be there to take care of the kids.

So when you watch this video, remember me rolling on my bed in my flannel PJ’s, whimpering and crying about needing my man because I am an incompetent mother. Or maybe you could visualize me taking a shot of whiskey as I sit at my kitchen table with dinner burning on the stove in the background. I hope that I didn’t ruin the song for you.

Abby and Heloise

I LOVE Abby. I LOVE Heloise. We all know who "Dear Abby" is. Heloise is also syndicated like Abby. She is like her homemaker equivalent. People write to her asking for advice on how to clean ring-around-the-tub. Next to the comics, I get a little slice of joy reading from these two women and I take their advice to heart. I do wonder, though, what they would say behind my back if ever they were to shadow me around for a day. So, here is my life, according to what Abby and Heloise might think:

7:00 AM "Oh Dear. Her alarm is set to Air Supply. She should wake up to something a little more patriotic such as: "America, the Beautiful" or something sprite and chipper from Mozart."

7:30 AM "What is this 10-second-rule that she is mumbling about? A piece of toast should always be thrown away if it has fallen onto the ground...especially if is is jelly-side down. Children should always be fed a well-rounded breakfast such as eggs and bacon, not fruit cocktail from a can. Tsk, tsk."

8:00 AM "I assume that she will brush her hair before she leaves the house....uh...uh...Oh no, she didn't. How unattractive it is to be seen unkempt at her son's school like that?!"

8:15 AM "Well then, I am glad to see that she is finally going to get ready for the day. It would help if she didn't dress straight from the clothes basket. I am so happy to see though, that she is wearing the appropriate nude color nylon stockings with those slip-on shoes. A lady of her age should always wear socks with her shoes."

8:30 AM "Chapstik? Chapstik! A lady always wears lipstick and blush when leaving the house. We are surprised that this woman has a husband."

9:00 AM-12:30 PM "It is always more polite to smile and look as though you really enjoy your job. It may help pass the time more quickly."

12:30 PM "I do believe that she is singing out loud while driving home. I would expect that from a teenager, but not from a grown woman."

1:00 PM "Is she doing the dishes without gloves? Dry skin and wrinkles are so unattractive, but at least she is attempting to clean her kitchen....although, it is the afternoon. If done properly, a kitchen should be cleaned after every meal."

2:35 PM "OH NO! I don't believe that she even STOPPED that car before her son jumped in....and in a Red zone....this woman has some issues to be dealt with."

3:00-4:00 PM "A good attempt has been made to feed her children a healthy snack and to help them finish their homework. They are sitting at the table quietly working....but where is she now?...Is that her napping on the bed?"

4:00 PM "My, what a lovely apron....very important when opening the bag of Mandarin Chicken from Trader Joe's. (That was scarcasm)"

5:00 PM "Dinnertime is very important for families to reconnect. I do believe that this family has the right idea....but the flatulence and burping at the table is really a bit inappropriate."

5:30-7:30 PM "Downtime. Every family member needs a little time to unwind in their own way. As I see it, a little Mythbusters or Good Eats is fine for the entire family....but there she is again....napping."

7:30-8:00 PM "The bedtime routine is cut-and-dry here in her household. The boys know exactly what to do without complaining. It appears that it is the husband's job to brush teeth and say prayers. Delegating jobs is important, but it would be better for her to have a hand in bedtime tasks....instead of napping or watching 'The Real Housewives of Orange County' (that is pure smut!).

8:00-11:00 PM "Stealing a bubble of intimacy (phrase taken from Good Housekeeping...a magazine that she reads instead of folding laundry) with her husband is always a good thing. Catching up on 3 episodes of Criminal Minds may not be the most romantic way to set the mood though....Oh good...they're changing the channel....to...CSI. (Frown)"

11:30 PM "If a woman wants to wake up in the morning refreshed and without black bags under her eyes, she's going to need to go to bed much earlier than this. 9:00 Would be appropriate."

"In our humble opinion, we get many letters from readers that are in much worse condition. Elaine may not be the perfect homemaker or have perfect etiquette like us ladies, but she gets some credit for raising 3 boys. Some say that raising 3 boys is like a free ticket to heaven, but it's not. It only allows you to have an extra glass of wine with dinner, as long as it doesn't come from a box and that you pour it into a proper glass...not a plastic neon cup from IKEA."

100% + 100% = 100%

I know that you're thinking, Elaine is a math teacher and she put this equation up on her blog. It doesn't appear to be correct, but I'm going to read the blog because maybe it will make sense, in a wierd way. She has that knack for making sense of wierd things.

There isn't much in America that makes sense. Our language system and our metric system are all out of whack. See here, I just wrote 3 sentences with the words "knack" and "whack" and you are still following....because I made it make sense!

I'll set up the whole situation: I was having dinner with 2 friends from high school recently and one of the ladies posed a question to us other two that was something along the lines of "How do you make your marriage work?" or "How do you live with someone that long?" I can't remember the exact question, but this equation came to mind immediately. It's something that Jerrod and I have been working on for a couple of years ever since the failure rate of (50% + 50% = 100%) began to skyrocket.

The explanation: We began with divvying up responsibilities in the household. One takes out the trash and cleans the dishes, the other does the laundry and puts the kids to bed.... What happened was that when one of us was unable to complete his/her task, there would be dissappointment and then (mostly in my case) it would come down to grudge-holding, especially if I had to pick up the slack. For some couples, I am sure that this equation works out perfectly. For us....it just led to disasterous effects. Add some kids into the mix and the equation gets complicated. I don't even have an equation to explain, but I think I would most likely symbolize our boys as exponents or as repeating decimals or fractions (I hate those things in math! They make solving equations so difficult).

So, now we try our best to do what we can and count picking-up-slack as part of our chores. We will always have unknown variables. Soccer practice may go long. Jerrod may have a later night at the office. I may NEED to get away from these kids for the evening (and usually Jerrod can pick up on my signals quicker than I can and has to kick me out and tell me not to come home until the boys are asleep....it's his way of showing me he cares). The 100% equation is not fool-proof, but it has helped us to maintain a more peaceful and less-frustrated atmosphere. Our communication skills are getting better because we are learning to ask each other for help instead of expecting it. It really just is the Golden Rule: Treat others as you would want to be treated. I really don't want to be verbally slapped in the face because my day was long and I didn't have time to cook vegetables for dinner. Why would I do that to Jerrod? PMS, maybe...but there is no excuse for that type of behavior. It's much easier to just go to the pantry and open up a can of green beans. It also appears to be "helping" instead of "OMG, I can't believe that she forgot the vegetables again!"