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Friday, December 31, 2010
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Solicitors of the World:
Take note!
It is best not to solicit women who come out of the grocery store with carts that look like this:
And arms that each look like this:
I assure you her main goal is to get into her car with as much speed as possible, especially if either of her children are crying. Trying to get her to stop to give you time and/or money is not in your best interest if you want to get through the day without being verbally assaulted.
Thanks for your time and attention to this matter.
It is best not to solicit women who come out of the grocery store with carts that look like this:
 |
| He was blowing out something he perceived to be hot (in this case, car exhaust, LOL). |
And arms that each look like this:
I assure you her main goal is to get into her car with as much speed as possible, especially if either of her children are crying. Trying to get her to stop to give you time and/or money is not in your best interest if you want to get through the day without being verbally assaulted.
Thanks for your time and attention to this matter.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Naturally.
Amidst all the drama of last weekend (you know, husband gone, kids sick, yadda, yadda...) we had another bit of excitement thrown in the mix.
Naturally.
Picture it: You've just walked into your house after hauling 3 kids to the Wal-Mart clinic (think practically no waiting room and no place for kids to sit in the examining room, basically chaos) and to the pharmacy (where despite being first in line your prescription still takes a half hour to fill).
So you've just come in the door and are peeling coats off of two kids who are running around like wild banshees while trying to get the screaming baby out of his car seat. At this point, one of your kids (the toddler, so it is extra cute) crouches down next to the kitchen table and points, laughing hysterically. You had seen the cat run by but you can't quite figure out why he's laughing at the cat, who he sees zooming around the house most of the day.
Then, the warning cry by your kindergartner: "Mommy, Poo Kitty has a mouse!"
No way, you think.
You crouch down to check and, sure enough, there is a mouse doing his very best to run away from this large orange predator. You expected to see something grotesque and rat-like, but instead you see something that, being the softie you are, you want to protect: a cute, teeny, brown mouse. Unfortunately, you don't want to protect it enough to let it roam free in your house, so out it must go.
You make a panicked phone call to your husband, who laughs at you, enjoying your high pitched freak out voice. You wag your fist of fury at him and hang up the phone. HOW are you going to get this thing out of the house?
Suddenly, the cat makes a power play and snatches the mouse up in his mouth, turning to stare at you as he does so.
A moment of brilliance: Get the cat to take the mouse outside.
You run to the door and throw it open, calling "Poo Kitty, come outside! Come on, kitty! Come outside!" He looks at you like you've lost your mind. You plead with him in your mind not to drop the mouse. Finally, after several minutes of coaxing, he carries the mouse outside.
Victory!
The worst part: the animals were locked in the house, so the mouse came from somewhere on the inside.
Oy.
Naturally.
Picture it: You've just walked into your house after hauling 3 kids to the Wal-Mart clinic (think practically no waiting room and no place for kids to sit in the examining room, basically chaos) and to the pharmacy (where despite being first in line your prescription still takes a half hour to fill).
So you've just come in the door and are peeling coats off of two kids who are running around like wild banshees while trying to get the screaming baby out of his car seat. At this point, one of your kids (the toddler, so it is extra cute) crouches down next to the kitchen table and points, laughing hysterically. You had seen the cat run by but you can't quite figure out why he's laughing at the cat, who he sees zooming around the house most of the day.
Then, the warning cry by your kindergartner: "Mommy, Poo Kitty has a mouse!"
No way, you think.
You crouch down to check and, sure enough, there is a mouse doing his very best to run away from this large orange predator. You expected to see something grotesque and rat-like, but instead you see something that, being the softie you are, you want to protect: a cute, teeny, brown mouse. Unfortunately, you don't want to protect it enough to let it roam free in your house, so out it must go.
You make a panicked phone call to your husband, who laughs at you, enjoying your high pitched freak out voice. You wag your fist of fury at him and hang up the phone. HOW are you going to get this thing out of the house?
Suddenly, the cat makes a power play and snatches the mouse up in his mouth, turning to stare at you as he does so.
A moment of brilliance: Get the cat to take the mouse outside.
You run to the door and throw it open, calling "Poo Kitty, come outside! Come on, kitty! Come outside!" He looks at you like you've lost your mind. You plead with him in your mind not to drop the mouse. Finally, after several minutes of coaxing, he carries the mouse outside.
Victory!
The worst part: the animals were locked in the house, so the mouse came from somewhere on the inside.
Oy.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
The Plague
I was going to make a new post about the book series I'm reading, but the plague has apparently infected my house so I decided to write about it instead.
To begin, Jack has had some crud for at least a week. A progressively worsening cough and snot that began turning neon green. I assumed it was just a cold and it would pass.
On Wednesday evening, Spencer told me his stomach hurt. A doctor once told me that kids will often complain about stomach pain with strep throat (although I have no idea why), so I felt his noggin to find a fever of over 101.
The next day, I haul my gaggle of children to the doctor's office and we get a diagnosis of strep throat, Spencer's second round of it in as many months. My dear husband will get strep if anyone in a 10 mile radius has it, so I call him to give him warning and lo and behold he's been feeling puny all day. Awesome.
That night, Jake said that Jack was burning up and really restless. By the time Jack found me and I felt his head, he felt cool so I brushed the idea of him having a fever aside.
The same night, Fin had been quite warm to the touch and tossing and turning all night, so I had given him a wee baby sized dose of tylenol. The next day he barely even coughed. I had made both of them a doctor's appointment early in the day, but when they both seemed to improve I canceled it assuming I was overreacting.
Wrong choice.
Last night was miserable. Spencer is on the mend, thank God for small miracles, but Jack was burning with a fever and Fin was hacking and so stuffed up that he was screaming with frustration and hunger.
Did I mention Jake is away at drill?
I got us up and moving this morning and we went to the new clinic at Wal-Mart. I generally really dislike Wal-Mart, but their clinic is open late and on weekends when NO OTHER office in my whole town is. Before this clinic opened, any illness that occurred on the weekend and needed medical attention was directed to the emergency room. Talk about a waste of the ER's time.
The NP (I love NPs, BTW) looked, listened and probed the boys while Spencer, reviling in his new found post-illness energy, acted like a wild animal, and diagnosed Jack with strep and Fin with a minor ear infection and an irritated throat.
Antibiotics all around.
While I was at the pharmacy getting the medicine filled, I picked up some Vitamin C w/echinacea hoping that it will help with the boys' immune systems. I'm also dosing Jack with motrin and tylenol for the pain and everyone (including Jake, although he doesn't know it yet) is going to start taking probiotics.
I feel like a nurse.
Hopefully by tomorrow everyone will feel at least 50% better and we can go to Branson to see Santa. Spencer was so disappointed that we had to delay our trip, which was scheduled for today.
Now I'm going to go lysol my house.
To begin, Jack has had some crud for at least a week. A progressively worsening cough and snot that began turning neon green. I assumed it was just a cold and it would pass.
On Wednesday evening, Spencer told me his stomach hurt. A doctor once told me that kids will often complain about stomach pain with strep throat (although I have no idea why), so I felt his noggin to find a fever of over 101.
The next day, I haul my gaggle of children to the doctor's office and we get a diagnosis of strep throat, Spencer's second round of it in as many months. My dear husband will get strep if anyone in a 10 mile radius has it, so I call him to give him warning and lo and behold he's been feeling puny all day. Awesome.
That night, Jake said that Jack was burning up and really restless. By the time Jack found me and I felt his head, he felt cool so I brushed the idea of him having a fever aside.
The same night, Fin had been quite warm to the touch and tossing and turning all night, so I had given him a wee baby sized dose of tylenol. The next day he barely even coughed. I had made both of them a doctor's appointment early in the day, but when they both seemed to improve I canceled it assuming I was overreacting.
Wrong choice.
Last night was miserable. Spencer is on the mend, thank God for small miracles, but Jack was burning with a fever and Fin was hacking and so stuffed up that he was screaming with frustration and hunger.
Did I mention Jake is away at drill?
I got us up and moving this morning and we went to the new clinic at Wal-Mart. I generally really dislike Wal-Mart, but their clinic is open late and on weekends when NO OTHER office in my whole town is. Before this clinic opened, any illness that occurred on the weekend and needed medical attention was directed to the emergency room. Talk about a waste of the ER's time.
The NP (I love NPs, BTW) looked, listened and probed the boys while Spencer, reviling in his new found post-illness energy, acted like a wild animal, and diagnosed Jack with strep and Fin with a minor ear infection and an irritated throat.
Antibiotics all around.
While I was at the pharmacy getting the medicine filled, I picked up some Vitamin C w/echinacea hoping that it will help with the boys' immune systems. I'm also dosing Jack with motrin and tylenol for the pain and everyone (including Jake, although he doesn't know it yet) is going to start taking probiotics.
I feel like a nurse.
Hopefully by tomorrow everyone will feel at least 50% better and we can go to Branson to see Santa. Spencer was so disappointed that we had to delay our trip, which was scheduled for today.
Now I'm going to go lysol my house.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Stop the Car
Fair warning: ranting ahead.
I will be the first to admit that I am incredibly soft-hearted. I cry watching Extreme Home Makeover. I cried watching the finale of "Lost." I cried reading my friend Randi's blog post about her daughter turning 3. Think the oatmeal-y, goulash-y, soupy version of soft-hearted. That's me.
One of the things that will cause me to weep copiously is pretty much anything sweet or sad or loyalty driven having to do with animals (I was already crying during the "Lost" finale, but when the dog did his thing with Jack [people who watched it know what I mean] I lost my marbles).
I drove us home from Jake's parent's house this weekend. As I was driving I see a dog start to walk out into the road.
Maybe it is just because my worst nightmare is to hit an animal, especially one that may be a beloved family pet, but I am constantly scanning the sides of the road when I drive for any type of movement. And I don't mean the sides of the road just to the front of where I am, I scan as far as I can. Any movement or (in the dark) flash of an eye means that I slow waaaaay down. Because of this, I noted the dog, slowed down, checked the other lane for oncoming traffic, and swerved around him.
The guy behind me should have had no trouble doing the same. When the person in front of me slows down and swerves, I am typically inclined to do the same. At the very least I slow to a crawl. Instead, this guy just drives like the road is totally clear and devoid of obstacles. I checked my rear view mirror just in time to see the poor dog get hit.
And he just kept on going.
There was probably nothing the guy could have done for the dog (you know, besides not hit it), but it seems so cruel not to stop and help. Maybe the dog could have been saved. Maybe it ended up on the side of the road, suffering, until it died. The guy better be glad that he didn't end up passing me on the road at any point; he would've gotten my middle finger and a dirty glare (I am totally the most mature person ever, I know).
I know exactly where the hatred for people like that comes from.
Right after we moved here in 2008, our dog, Crickey, dug out of our fence. Spencer and I were biking to the farmer's market and she tried to follow us. It took her long enough to get out of the fence that I didn't know she was on our trail. She got hit and died.
The person that hit her didn't stop, but some gentlemen that witnessed the accident did. They removed her body from the road, checked her collar, and called Jake. They told Jake that the accident was totally avoidable (the speed limit on the road where she was hit is only 30 MPH); the lady that hit her was not paying attention to the road.
I can't imagine the scene that would have occurred if I'd have biked back to the street to find her there. And the person that hit her should be very, very glad that I don't know who they are. I've never been a violent person, but I guarantee you that there would've been a fist thrown on my part.
I'm not naive enough to think that I'll never hit an animal (although I hope and pray never a dog or cat). But I promise you I'm kind enough to stop.
I will be the first to admit that I am incredibly soft-hearted. I cry watching Extreme Home Makeover. I cried watching the finale of "Lost." I cried reading my friend Randi's blog post about her daughter turning 3. Think the oatmeal-y, goulash-y, soupy version of soft-hearted. That's me.
One of the things that will cause me to weep copiously is pretty much anything sweet or sad or loyalty driven having to do with animals (I was already crying during the "Lost" finale, but when the dog did his thing with Jack [people who watched it know what I mean] I lost my marbles).
I drove us home from Jake's parent's house this weekend. As I was driving I see a dog start to walk out into the road.
Maybe it is just because my worst nightmare is to hit an animal, especially one that may be a beloved family pet, but I am constantly scanning the sides of the road when I drive for any type of movement. And I don't mean the sides of the road just to the front of where I am, I scan as far as I can. Any movement or (in the dark) flash of an eye means that I slow waaaaay down. Because of this, I noted the dog, slowed down, checked the other lane for oncoming traffic, and swerved around him.
The guy behind me should have had no trouble doing the same. When the person in front of me slows down and swerves, I am typically inclined to do the same. At the very least I slow to a crawl. Instead, this guy just drives like the road is totally clear and devoid of obstacles. I checked my rear view mirror just in time to see the poor dog get hit.
And he just kept on going.
There was probably nothing the guy could have done for the dog (you know, besides not hit it), but it seems so cruel not to stop and help. Maybe the dog could have been saved. Maybe it ended up on the side of the road, suffering, until it died. The guy better be glad that he didn't end up passing me on the road at any point; he would've gotten my middle finger and a dirty glare (I am totally the most mature person ever, I know).
I know exactly where the hatred for people like that comes from.
Right after we moved here in 2008, our dog, Crickey, dug out of our fence. Spencer and I were biking to the farmer's market and she tried to follow us. It took her long enough to get out of the fence that I didn't know she was on our trail. She got hit and died.
The person that hit her didn't stop, but some gentlemen that witnessed the accident did. They removed her body from the road, checked her collar, and called Jake. They told Jake that the accident was totally avoidable (the speed limit on the road where she was hit is only 30 MPH); the lady that hit her was not paying attention to the road.
I can't imagine the scene that would have occurred if I'd have biked back to the street to find her there. And the person that hit her should be very, very glad that I don't know who they are. I've never been a violent person, but I guarantee you that there would've been a fist thrown on my part.
I'm not naive enough to think that I'll never hit an animal (although I hope and pray never a dog or cat). But I promise you I'm kind enough to stop.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Thankful
Happy Thanksgiving!
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world about 90% of the time (the other 10% of the time I'm working on the bills, ugh).
I have a husband that I adore and that likes me ok too. ;-)
I have 3 amazing kids that keep me on my toes.
I have 2 awesome sisters whom I love dearly.
I have 2 very sweet nephews.
I have a family that is there to support me in good times and bad.
My inlaws are great people that love me and do nothing but smother my children in affection.
I have a house that keeps me warm and enough money to keep us all fed.
I have a car that drives and is paid off, even if we are packed into it like little sardines.
Jake has a job. So thankful for that in this economy.
My job is so much fun. I love going to work and all the perks I get (like bringing the boys with me).
I have made some great friends in Mtn. Home.
I truly feel blessed.
I feel like the luckiest girl in the world about 90% of the time (the other 10% of the time I'm working on the bills, ugh).
I have a husband that I adore and that likes me ok too. ;-)
I have 3 amazing kids that keep me on my toes.
I have 2 awesome sisters whom I love dearly.
I have 2 very sweet nephews.
I have a family that is there to support me in good times and bad.
My inlaws are great people that love me and do nothing but smother my children in affection.
I have a house that keeps me warm and enough money to keep us all fed.
I have a car that drives and is paid off, even if we are packed into it like little sardines.
Jake has a job. So thankful for that in this economy.
My job is so much fun. I love going to work and all the perks I get (like bringing the boys with me).
I have made some great friends in Mtn. Home.
I truly feel blessed.
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