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She’s gone

October 18, 2012 in Life Lessons

Today, my babysitter – sweet and precious teenager from the heavens – came over. And because I have been feeling haggard lately, and the husband has been out of town for what feels like forever, I felt I was due some attention, so I made an appointment for a haircut. I also felt like even with a haircut, my hair would still be drab so I thought it was high time for some highlights, too. The last time I can think of that my hair was highlighted was while I was pregnant with Arden (don’t worry, I did my research and concluded it was safe, seriously). My blonde is turning brown…I can’t have that.

I had “Sarah” set up for dinner – microwave chicken enchiladas from Costco. BTW, OMG Delishoush!! As soon as she got there I tagged out and headed for my style’n minivan. Before I could get around the curve at the end of my street I received a text from her that read, “She’s gone”.

What the…?

I waited a second.

Then I received another, “That was for my mom lol, ” it said.

Ummmm, yeah….

I thought about it for a few seconds, trying to control my imagination. Was she trying to invite someone over? Then I called my husband. I’m trying not to get crazy here, I told him. Am I out of line to be suspicious?

I wanted to call her and remind her that I have a camera.

THAT’S RECORDING.

I will see who comes and goes.

The thing is, she had texted before coming over to see if it was okay if she brought her little sister. I didn’t care. She’s done it once before and from what I could see, her little ten year old sister is a shy, bashful thing. No threat to my kids. But this made me wonder, did she bring her little sister to watch my kids so that someone could come over?

This wasn’t like her. But I wasn’t about to be made a dummy.

I called her up and confronted her, “Hey, your text makes me nervous,” I said, “What’s the story?”

“Don’t be nervous. My mom always asks me to let her know when you leave,” she said.

“Oh, okay. Well, I was just wondering what was going on. I love you and I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

Yea. I really said that. I played the ‘I love you’ card. You have to understand – I love her. Not like “in love’ …but I love her. Like you love a pair of comfy shoes. My husband travels a lot. Can you blame me, really?

Here’s where I left it…

“Please don’t do anything stupid,” I said.

“I won’t. Don’t worry,” she said, with a breathy, soft, laugh. .

I got my hair cut and colored. I even got my eyebrows waxed. Yea. I went the distance. And I came home to two smiling kids with full tummies, ready for bed.

Nice.

I still love her.

But I’m going to replay the video.

Word.

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Why I hate taking my kids to the park

October 17, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

Note: I started this post over a week ago, when my husband was home and had gone to the park with me. He had Addy and I had Arden. But since he’s been gone, I’ve gone to a park with both children, on my own, and I am even more of a total basket case. But I still go because it’s better for me to be a basket case and to get them out of the house than to not go at all…it still sucks though. And I’m open to suggestions on how to make it easier.

*****

Yesterday we went for a picnic at a park. Arden LOVES this park – and I do, too. However, it turns me into a nervous wreck.

There’s a huge wooden structure that replicates a castle. Inside the castle are turns and small openings. It’s really not that complicated, once you explore it a couple of times, but I’m sure it makes the kids feel like they’re really getting somewhere. At the top of the castle is a slide – that’s the only way to get down from the top. Otherwise, there are four exits at the bottom, and if the child exits from any of those, there are multiple other areas of the park they’re directed. This knowledge turns my stomach upside down.

Luckily, I can fit easily through the tiny doorways and “halls” of the castle, so I can go with Arden to keep an eye on him. But my stress level rises when he wants to go down the slide because I know I can’t make it to the bottom of the slide in time to meet him there (however, uh, I just though – why don’t I just go down the slide after him?? I’m an idiot…) Am I a freaking nut or what?

At one point I decided that maybe it was best to stay by the slide and wait for him to get all the way up the castle and back down again. So that’s what I did. But on about the sixth run, he didn’t come back down the slide – just as I had feared. So then a fearful decision needed to be made: Do I continue to wait by the slide, or do I go into and up into the castle to try and find him? Or, better yet, do I go to the other side of the castle to look for him in case he had ventured off into another corner of the park – and risk not being at the bottom of the slide if he just lolly-gagged his way up this time? Keep in mind, there are a lot of other children and parents at this park – it’s very popular.

I shuffled back and forth near the slide for a few seconds, desperate to find sight of him. I had to really try and contain myself. I wanted to scream for him, scream his name but I just couldn’t. Instead, I took off and hurriedly wound through the structures trying to take in the details of every child I saw, trying to weed him out. The longer it took to find him, the more scared I became. I knew I would find him, but the thought kept nagging me, what if I didn’t?

Finally, I found him, crossing a “bridge” outside of the castle. I grabbed him and got kneeled down and tried to tell him that I’d been looking for him. I had told him before letting him go into the castle by himself that he was only to go up to the top and down the slide and I was trying to scold him, make him understand that he’d disobeyed me and that I was scared because I couldn’t find him. He was OBLIVIOUS. Completely oblivious.

Ugh. What do you do? Immediately take him out of the park and go home? What’s the protocol here? I’m not opposed to doing that – I know that sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelet but really, is that what I should do?

Am I to blame for being so scared someone could take him, even though chances are no one will? Or, is he to blame because he didn’t listen and do exactly as I had instructed him? He’s only three and a half, mind you. Was I asking too much from a three-year old?

Ugh.

This is why I hate going to the park. I am a nervous wreck. When Addy is with me I am so afraid that she’ll fall through a slat, bonk her head going down the slide, or fall off of a ladder. I can’t wait until they’re old enough that I can, if I want to, just sit on a bench and watch them play. When the only thing I’ll have to worry about is having a good view.

Maybe I shouldn’t say “I can’t wait”. That time will be here before I know it.

I really need a vacation.

Word.

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Don’t rush to kiss the boo-boos

September 30, 2012 in Becoming Less Dumb, Hardy-har-har, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

A couple of evenings ago, we set out for a walk around the ‘hood. We invited our cute little six-year-old neighbor friend along. The kids were riding their bikes about two houses down and then purposely falling over into someone’s yard. They’d giggle for a bit and then get back on their bikes and do it all over again.

Finally we made it home and wouldn’t ya know it, that’s when Arden fell over on accident, scratching up his palms. He held them up to me, whaling, summoning me to come look. I instinctively went to him, pulled a palm to my lips and lightly gave it a kiss.

“Blauck! Arden, your hand stinks!” I exclaimed.

Our little friend quickly revealed the source if the smell, “He fell in dog poop.”

Whoa! Way to go, Me!

Let my mistake be a lesson to you…don’t be so quick to kiss the boo-boos. They’ll survive…you might not.

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Boy meets razor

September 24, 2012 in Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

I knew it would happen one day. But I still wasn’t prepared when it finally did happen.

It’s awful.

Just awful.

His hair. His pretty blonde hair.

The CutWhacked.

It looks like he got into a fight with a cat. Make that three cats… and a honey badger.

Ugh.

And it’s so obvious.

He took to his father’s clippers – the kind that beauticians use to clean up the back of the neck – and zipped off a clump of hair right on the top of his head, in a spot on the side, and then a very, very visible spot in the back.

Here’s how brainless I can be: I saw a patch of straight blonde hair next to my bathroom sink…I honestly thought nothing past this thought, “Huh…I didn’t realize Neil’s hair had gotten that long (side note: he’s practically bald). Wait a minute – his hair isn’t that light….Oh! There’s my fingernail clippers – I thought I had lost those….” I wasn’t privy to the cutting incident until I caught sight of the light patch on the back of Arden’s head after he insisted on being “line leader” on the way to the car that day. Gah. And so after Dr. Obvious informed me that my son had cut his hair, my first thought was, “Well, I’m just going to have to get the rest of it cut off.” What?? No way! Sanity followed quickly and I was immediately prepared to take on the critical looks from other parents. I deserve it. I trusted my son, out of my sight for ten minutes. Shame on me.

At least it was just his hair.

Ugh.

 

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Damn that Long Island Medium

September 23, 2012 in Life Lessons, Motherhood, Past is Passed, Pregnancy

Here I am, sitting here watching Long Island Medium, one of my favorite shows. Now I don’t care if you believe or not because you either do, or you don’t. I don’t really care. But I believe.

When I hear Theresa Caputo talk to someone about their loss of an infant it makes me wonder about all the losses that I have suffered; could all of those souls be waiting for me when I pass? When she transfers a message from an infant in language typical of a young adult, it makes me wonder, when does a soul even originate? Could those little “people” who I brushed off as a sad but normal part of life actually be waiting for me on the other side?

For those of you who don’t know, I’ve had five losses. I have two beautiful children who drive me somewhat batty but whom I want to kiss twelve times a night…but I had several losses before them…and I was never sure what sort of lamenting those losses were due. I always tried to keep it in perspective, that losses happened to many, many women but it was something that was rarely discussed. My sorrow was primarily dedicated to the loss of time…the fact that I would have to start all over, and how much time did I have left? Were things ever going to get better?

Sorry to share something so depressing but it was just on my mind so I thought I would quickly share it.

Word.

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One of those days

September 19, 2012 in Anger Inducers, Becoming Less Dumb, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood

Oh my gosh it’s been one of those days – and it’s not even over.

All day I’ve been sort of on the edge. My stomach has been clenched and I just feel like I’m going to crumble. I have to share my day with you.

I got up a little early because I had a lot to do this morning. We had a new employee coming over to fill out paperwork and I needed to be ready with both kids to take Arden to his preschool. In addition, I was meeting with a lady to try and sell some of baby things that I don’t need anymore – trying to get a little fun money.

I got out the door late, but who cares, at least I was out the door. Got over to Arden’s preschool and as soon as I spotted some of his classmates I looked up to see that the teacher accompanying them was not the teacher who had just started less than a week ago and whom Arden fell in love with right away. There has been constant turnover at that school since Arden started and he does not do well when there is change. So far, we’ve been able to get him comfortable through each change, but not without a lot of reassurance and listening to a lot of, “Mommy, I don’t want to go to school.” (Mind you, he only does this when there is a new teacher.) But this morning was a turning point. I’m over it.

I looked over at the administrator and said, “Uh, what’s the deal? What’s going on with his teacher?”

She replied, sincerely, “Oh, I am SO sorry (I had told them all about his love for this new teacher that is now gone) but Ms. Carmen had a disabled adult son to take care of and just couldn’t stay with us.”

Damn, I thought. She went on to say that she was doing interviews and was trying to find a permanent teacher for his class and maybe we could put him in Ms. Amelia’s class since she was a permanent teacher.

Over my dead body. That woman is a total bitch. I don’t want her near him. “Uh, that’s okay. I’ll just keep him with me,” I said, “and  we’ll see how it goes on Friday.” Now, I really do like the school. It’s been a wonderful experience for him, aside from the whole nap trauma (the one where we learned that naps cause him terrible anxiety to the point where I wonder if he needs to be on antidepressants…okay, not THAT bad but you get the idea).  I hate to make a change but this turnover crap is ridiculous. I mean, I’m not stupid, I know there’s going to be people coming and going – particularly in the price range I can afford, but come on! I think it’s time to get serious about finding another place, as much as I hate to.

Okay, so then we hit the highway to meet this lady. I had agreed to meet her in the middle because she lived an hour away and I felt bad that she was going to have to drive that far. Plus I thought there might be a better chance that she would buy from me if I put a little effort into meeting her and I am pretty eager to get rid of this stuff. Well, she did buy from me, just not enough to justify spending the money in gas getting to her and the hassle of dealing with the kids while we stood at my car (actually my friend’s car but we’ll get to that). Okay, fine. So we’re done with that and head back home. Lesson learned.

On the way home, Arden mentions something about going to the park. Yea. Okay, I thought. I’ve been so busy the last few days that I haven’t gotten to spend good time with the kids so it would fun to hang at the park a bit. However, by this time it was time for Addy’s nap and so I made a deal with Arden that we would go this place we call ”The Toy Place” after Addy woke up from her nap. And then I think, oh wouldn’t it be fun to invite one of Arden’s neighbor friends to go with us so I got on the phone with her grandmother.

While on the phone with her, I got into telling her about the daycare dilemma. And during this conversation, the kids started screaming and crying in the back seat and wouldn’t stop, so I had to end the call. This chaos had only ended seconds before we turned down a street in our neighborhood and I thought I spotted a neighbor/friend. I was kind of staring at her so that if she saw me (in this strange car) I could wave at her. Just as I passed her I saw a vehicle backing out of their driveway and I had to crank the car to the left to swerve out of the way! The other car’s tail-end was sticking into the street before they stopped. As I looked in my rearview, a little shaken, I saw the driver’s hand waving out the window as if to say, “Hey! What the hell are you doing?” Funny, because I was thinking the same about him! I started berating him out loud and usually when this happens I have no control over the words that come out. But this time, thank goodness, I was able to think ahead far enough that nothing regrettable came out of my mouth. Ugh. The bastard. (I did have the right of way, right?)

So anyway, we got home and put Addy down. When she got up we fumbled our way out the door. But I had noticed that my friend’s oil light would flicker on and off intermittently. Great. And when I couldn’t get a hold of her, my husband suggested that I take her car to the place she gets her oil changed and have them check it and top it off if necessary. So just before I got onto the highway, I crossed two lanes to get turned in the direction of the Jiffy Lube. Got there and in record time they were able to get the car taken care of – without even getting my kids out of the car (Historically, I’ve hated Jiffy Lube but this visit made me question that.)

And finally we were on our way to “The Toy Place”. We were about two minutes away from pulling into the parking garage when I looked into the rearview to see Arden’s head cranked to the side and his eyes closed. Great. He’s fallen asleep. Freaking perfect. This means that whatever outing we were on has abruptly ended. So I continued on past the parking garage and headed home. On the way home, Addy began to cry several times, surely because she was hungry. By this time it was now about 1:30 and the kids had only breakfast to eat. I was planning to stop somewhere and grab a bite, take it to a park and while Arden napped in his carseat, Addy and I would play and eat right by the car. But forget that idea because I just knew that wherever I went I would have to listen her cry throughout the whole ordering process, so I just continued toward the house – listening to her cry.

Unfortunately, my fuse was short from the time I woke up this morning and this crying was seeping into every crevice of my being – and inflating.  I. Could. Not. Handle. It. I turned up the music hoping to get her sidetracked and when that didn’t work I continued to turn up the music. And when that didn’t cover the sound of her screaming I lost it…and I started screaming. Which woke up Arden and he promtly started yelling at Adalei to stop crying. “STOP CRYING I DON’T WANT TO LISTEN TO IT!” He yelled.

Oh great. Now I’ve dug this hole much, much deeper. Good going, Mom.

At that point I pretty much left the music loud and watched the kids scream from the rearview mirror. I’m not proud of myself, mind you, that’s just the way things went. I slid into my driveway with both kids still sniffling and Guns N’ Roses on the radio. My friend has one of those radios that keeps playing after you turn the car off until you open the door so when I thrust the door open, the music was surely audible for a good two to three seconds. I shut the car door and leapt to the front door and exclaimed, out loud to myself, “Great. This was a colossal f’ng failure!!” Except I said the real “f” word. Then, after unlocking the front door and whipping around to let get the kids out of their car seats, I made eye contact with my centenarian neighbor. She was sitting in her car, eyeballing me through her open window.

Fabulous. Did I mention she’s very pristine and perfect? Great. She’s probably sitting in her car trying to recall the number to the city’s ordinance division to have a cop come out and site me for noise pollution and possible child endangerment.

Bring it, Lady!!

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

And now, after the kids are to bed…

Sigh.

Well, yea, so it was one of those days. It quickly got calm once I got Adalei thrown into her high chair and tossed a broken banana onto her tray. She was immediately pacified.

And I dangled a lunch size container of ravioli into Arden’s line of vision and he was quickly mesmerized into silence.

It doesn’t take much sometimes…just a mother with food.

Whoo!

Glad this day is over.

Bottoms up!!

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SUV vs. Minivan – I get it now

September 8, 2012 in Life Lessons

Some people aspire to drive a Lexus or a Mercedes. Some people aspire to drive monster trucks or race cars. A few even dream of driving the Oscar Meyer Wiener Mobile…or better yet, some homemade concoction having it’s big debut at Burning Man.

For me, there was a time I lusted over a red Pontiac Fiero (that should show my age pretty clearly, huh?). Then, while doing time in Texas, I wished for a little Ford Ranger stepside for the practical, single girl in me, and the Mitsubishi Eclipse for the sporty, party girl in me. I didn’t get any of those by the way. Instead, I got a series of “just glad to have a car” cars, like an old Dodge Colt, a beat up Camaro I named Margaret and a Dodge Daytona.

Now, though, I’m ready to trade in my little Pathfinder for none other than….

A minivan.

(Gasp!)

I hear you say’n, “What the eff!?”

To which I can only reply, “I know,” with a sigh of embarrassment.

I had no idea those things were so freaking luxury! But maybe I’m saying that because I drive an older model, small SUV that is so stiff I feel every single rock on the road. I thought it was nice that I didn’t have to duck down to put my kids in the car… until I was able to open a side door at the touch of a button so that my son could let himself in to his car seat all by himself, and I could shut the door with another press of the same button. Dang!!

I don’t know if you’ve picked this up about me, but I’m so not”cool”. I may have been “cool” at some point in my life, debatable, but at any rate those days are o-v-e-r. And I’m totally okay with that. I couldn’t care less. And for that, I thank Father Time. And it’s for this reason that I reject the minivan stigma. I mean, my Pathfinder was nice before we had kids…the sun roof, the sweet stereo, the fold-down seats in the back with the hatch that made it possible to enjoy a drive-in movie…not that we did, but we COULD-A. And last but not least, the four-wheel-drive that made it easy to plow through the snow, passed the pathetic looking young executive in the shiny go-cart, slipping into the curb.

Please, allow me to share this one last fond memory of driving this once luxurious SUV; the time we drove through Colorado, in our Pathfinder, in a full-on December white out, pulling a trailer. We just plugged along, nice and easy, seeing cars and trucks – and even semis – off the side of the road facing the wrong direction. Feeling bad for them, we weren’t sure if we were going to end up the in same situation. Then a little Subaru wagon passed  us like he knew what was good for him. Neil and I just looked at each other, rolled our eyes, and went back to watching the road. No more than a minute later we came upon the Subaru. He had slid sideways when he was going too fast to plan for the light pole that had fallen halfway across the highway. And on we rolled, our little Pathfinder muscling down the road.

I might miss the ‘ole girl a little, especially the ability to plug through the snow without missing a beat. But when I’m manhandling two kids into their carseats sometimes two to three times a day, I’d say ease of entry is more important than the three to four times a year I have to put my car in 4WD. Another thing I liked was that the minivan had bucket seats in the middle – NICE! This kept the kids so far apart they couldn’t reach each other to smack or pinch – Hey! No more, “She pinched me! (Smack!)” and subsequent “Waaaaaaaaaaah!”

Heeeeaven!

So, the van I borrowed was a Chrysler Town and Country. I’m wondering if any of my readers has any suggestions about other minivans, pros and cons? I’m really interested in looking around for one so I’d like to try to get as much info as I can. Suggestions appreciated!!

Word.

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When a good bath goes bad

September 4, 2012 in Hardy-har-har, Kidlens, Life Lessons, Motherhood, Pokes at Parenthood

Speaking of poo poo…

Why

In. The. Hell.

Does it seem.

Like every time I go to give Adalei a bath she poops in the tub?

WHY? Oh WHY?

She loves bath time, so she’s only sabotaging herself – well, and making the next thirty minutes quite busy for ME because now I have to rip her out of the bath tub, diaper her as soon as possible (because sometimes the pooping doesn’t end in the bath tub) and then commence bleaching out the bathtub and all it’s contents while simultaneously fighting off a now very irate toddler?

It might have been funny the first couple of times, an unfortunate right of passage for all mothers of young children. But now that we’ll soon be counting on both hands the number of times this has happened? I’m thinking of bathing her in swim diapers from now until she’s twenty.

And no, the fact that it has completely been my fault, several of those times, for putting her in the bath just minutes after her last bite of dinner (hello!) hasn’t escaped me. But what about the other times? Is she TRYING to be funny?? And in my defense, my ambition to be the best mother for her is what leads me to put aside the memory of scooping poop out of the bathtub and once again temp fate by putting her in there after a very messy dinner. I certainly pay a price for trying to be a good mom. Don’t we all.

This girl of mine.

Sheesh.

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The poo poo debate: One of the many questions ya don’t think about until you have kids

September 3, 2012 in Kidlens, Life Lessons, Marriage Tales, Motherhood

Here’s something for you, parents of younger children, to think about. Those of you who have yet to experience the excitement and joy that is potty training…Get ready. This is serious bidness.

When I was getting ready to teach Arden to use the potty, I remember reading in a book that you needed to make a choice as to what terms you wanted to use. This is something I had never given much thought. Hmmm…I came to the conclusion that “poo poo” and “pee pee” seemed innocent and generally accepted enough. That’s what I would use. Okay, so “poo poo” and “pee pee” it was. Everything’s great.

However, for some reason, my husband has initiated a change in the program. A change that I, for some reason, don’t like. He has started to apply the term “duke”, in place of “poo-poo”.

Hmmm….how do we feel about this? It seems strange to me that I’m even wasting my breath over what probably is a non-issue…

…or is it?

To me, the term “duke” is similar to the word “dookie” and let me tell ya, where I grew up, on the south side, the boys used to use this word. And they used it in a way that was teetering on the edge of rebellion. It was a bad word. Girls didn’t say it, and boys only said it among their friends. So for me it’s a bad word, only slightly better than “the F word”.

So, I ask you, my distinguished readers: Is “duke” an acceptable replacement for “poo poo”? Am I being a little too prissy pants here?

Take my poll over on the top right of the page. It’s anonymous. And if you have anything to share, I’m all ears. I would love to hear your thoughts. Tell me, what terms do you use (or plan to use) in this whole potty business, and why?

 

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Mixed seasoning (a little a this, a little a that)

September 2, 2012 in Life Lessons

I don’t know how long I have to write, considering Addy is in her crib for a late afternoon nap…but it doesn’t sound like she’s dig’n it. But she’s a grumpy little princess so she’s gonna have to stay in there for a bit.

We made it back from the midwest, safe and sound, so I’ve spent the last week trying to get our stuff put away. I have come to terms with the fact that this process takes up to two weeks to complete, but I’ll never be comfortable with it. My house is always in a state of shambles, and the fallout of being away from home just adds another dimension. Ugh. Whatever, I guess. Whataya gonna do, right?

Oh, HELL YES. I think Addy actually fell asleep in the time it took for me to write that last paragraph. Now I can sit here in peace and quiet. Neil took Arden to a friend’s house – oh wait. False alarm. Anyway, Neil took Arden to a friend’s house, so at least I’m two noise-makers lighter. I’ll take that.

And quiet again. Pleeeeease go to sleep.

So far, so good.

Okay, so I have to tell you about Arden’s appointment. The last time he had been seen by his cardiologist was when he was a year old. At that time, he had a tiny atrial septal defect – a hole between the two chambers of the heart. He also had a misshapen pulmonary valve.

Well, as it turns out, the hole closed up, so that is no longer a problem. At all. I could hardly believe it. It was so small when they last checked him that the doctor said that it would never cause him any problems. But it was still there. So, knowing that it’s totally gone was really exciting.

As for the pulmonary valve, that’s still there. However, they said that although the valve is whacky, it’s still doing what it’s supposed to be doing – it’s not causing any restrictions to the blood flow. That’s the most important part. And the doctor said that it was probably over-kill to request it, but she wanted to see him again in five years.

I walked away from the appointment feeling so grateful, thinking of all the parents with children with life-threatening illnesses. Thank God my little ornery, obnoxious little trouble-maker – the one who totally pulled his pants down to pee in the middle of the playground the other day – won’t have to worry about any heart troubles. So now on to the more important stuff, like how to teach him it’s not okay to pee in the middle of the park, without beating him. Ugh! Boys!

So, other than that appointment, it’s not been too exciting around here. I’ve been a little down in the dumps, pissed off at the husband, but hopefully we’ve come to an agreement that will keep the next big blow-out at bay for a while. Men are inherently stupid, so I’m not sure how long “a while” will actually turn into, but I have HOPE, and that’s an important thing.

We got a new washer and dryer. That’s pretty exciting. I’m hoping that my excitement at getting a new washer and dryer is the same as a construction worker getting a new hammer drill – it’s just going to make my job easier – rather than high-lighting my domestic responsibilities and making me feel like there is no more important work than the completion of a load of laundry. I’m constantly battling my conscience, and trying not to feel like a damn fifties wife (no offense to those of you who were fifties wives – I’m sure you were lovely). So I’m trying to appreciate these new machines as an awesome example of technology, no different than my computer (I love you, Mac), or television.

Hmmm…let’s see…what else…I want to catch up so that the next time I see something out of the norm, I can say There’s a Blog Entry! and not have to worry about how awkward it will sound writing about, for example, how much I love my backpack, when I haven’t written in so long.  Let’s just get all this crap out of the way….hmmm…let’s see…what else?

I guess that’s it for now. Now I can move on and write about how much I love my backpack, how much I hate stupid idiots at the grocery store who leave their carts in the middle of the isle, how much I wish I could go on a dive trip again, or how I just realized I am a minivan kind of girl.

Saddle up guys. You’re in for some real treats.

Word.

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