WTF - How to look like a smart Mom

I thought I would share with you some terms our kids are using so you too can sound like a smart mom.

Just like me!

Yas or Yaaaassss or YAAASSSSSS  Pronounced, (ya-e-ssss)

The term Yes is now replaced with Yas when there is excitement conveyed in the statement.

Yes, I made it to my biology test on time.
YAS! Kirby said she likes you!

See the difference!

"YAS! I finally fit in my Mom Jeans!!"

***

BAE  pronounced   (B-AYE)

This has now replaced Baby or Babe because it means "Before Anyone Else."

My husband calls me BAP - "Before Pabst Blue Ribbon" I know I am special.

"Wolfgang, Bae and I are at the grocery store, do you want anything?"

***

RATCHET pronounced like it sounds, (RA-T-CHET)

This terms is used when someone's looks or behaviors are less than desirable.

"You are wearing that too school, it's too RATCHET."

***

ROAST - pronounced like it sounds, (ROA-ST)

Calling someone out in public, giving them a hard time, it now has nothing to do with the chicken in the oven.

"Your Dad roasted Uncle Greg about his shirt, then realized he had the same one on!"

***

TurnT - Pronounced (TURN-HT)

Acting crazy, having, fun being social at a party.

"Book club is meeting for a glass of wine, who knows we may get TurnT!"

***

I CAN'T EVEN pronounced as (AH-CAN'T-EVUN)

Showing disbelief or expressing revulsion to a person.

"Oh my god, Mrs. ONeal wore Cheetah Leggings to yoga today, I can't even!"

***

#BLESSED pronounced (BUH-LESSED)

This actually means you are blessed.

"Found a bottle of wine behind the Captain Crunch.  #blessed"

***

ON FIRE pronounced (ON FI-RUH)

To do something great and be unstoppable

"Did you see me dancing in the carpool line to Maroon 5, I was on FIRE!"

***

#MCM or #WCM

This is where you show your BAE love on a Monday. Literally it means, "Man Crush Monday" or "Woman Crush Monday" Some may also use it for friends they hope become a BAE.

"Why didn't you LIKE the sexy picture I posted of your Dad? #MCM"

***

T-UP pronounced (TEEE-UP)

When things are going to get a little crazy, when you are planning on getting TurnT!"

"They had my wine on sale at Costco, I'm going to T-TUP at the Shabahzi house!"

***

SORRY 'BOUT IT pronounced (SOR-E BOUGH TIT)

When you are supposed to be sorry but you are not sorry. YOLO (You only live once) usually follows this.

Dad: Mom did you really throw away my 1975 velvet shirt?
Mom: Sorry Bout It

Friend: Did I really finish that bottle of wine last night?
Mom: Sorry Bout It, YOLO

Mom to teenager, "Have you become my friend on Facebook? I'm way more RATCHET on Facebook! #SORRYBOUTIT  Son?  Son?"


And finally the emojis:

I have no idea what any of them mean.

I thought the piece of shit was a Hershey kiss.

I accidentally send a syringe because I thought it was a magic wand.

Oh, and if you see the eggplant on your child's phone this is supposed to be a certain part of the male anatomy, I'll leave that up to your imagination.

You are welcome.

WTF - I am a Rockstar - I just didn't know it!

I never realized as a Mom, I lived the life of a rockstar!  And you do to!!  Here's a glimpse into my Rockstar days!

Daily, someone throws underwear at me.

I do the same thing, day after day, week after week.

I am on an endless road trip with a car stuffed full of people.

My name is always screamed, over and over and over.

Someone is always flicking a lighter around me.

I am always finding other peoples clothes littering my floor, along with a pair of underwear.

I am never alone. Even in the toilet.

My day is spent constantly screaming.

There is always a new instrument in my house.

The room is trashed within 5 minutes of walking through the door. And of course there is underwear on the floor.

There's always someone in my entourage insisting no Green Skittles, or "Why didn't you get the Moon Pies like I asked?"

Sometimes I can lose a good portion of my day.

There is always a surprise in my bed every morning.

Weekend nights are spent figuring out how to entertain room full of crazy kids, usually shouting my name!

Someone is always pulling at my clothes.

My day ends with alcohol, messy hair and exhaustion.

There is always some point in my day where I stop, asking myself, "Am I tripping?  Did I really just see that?"

WTF - Busted by SnapChat

My kids informed me that SnapChat is the latest and greatest thing. SnapChat is an app that lets your pictures show for 30 seconds then they disappear.

Of course, I had to see what the deal was.  I created my SnapChat account, both boys telling me I was lame naming it, "kelmelang" suggesting I should name it something more jazzy.

Luv2Rite?
BiggyMomma
HawtStfufMomma

I embarrassed them enough that they both quickly agreed kelmelang was the perfect name.

Soon after creating the account, 3 friends found me.  I had friends!

They sent me witty selfies adding text and drawings to them making me laugh!

I fixed my hair, pinched a little color in my cheeks and sent out that selfie.

Nobody responded.

My three friends sent a few more selfies to me, 

I replied with the wittiest selfie back, laughing as I added the text.

Crickets from my 3 SnapChat friends.

"Why don't my 3 friends reply to my SnapChats?" I ask techie child.

"Are you replying to their chats?" He asks, looking at my account.

"Yes, I'm just as witty back. You know I am hilarious. There is something wrong with my SnapChat."

He looks again, takes a quick picture, "Looks like it is working. Where are you sending your pictures?"

"To my story of course," I say, "It is MY story."

"Mom, nobody looks at your story. You have to send it directly back to them." He says rolling his eyes.

"Well then, why have My Story?" I ask.

I apologize to my three friends, explaining my SnapChat "fail" according to my kids now we're snap chatting away.

Which brings me to the SnapChat bust! 

One of my friends' child is not supposed to have a SnapChat account, according to his mom.

We're having coffee, and I say, "Hey you know, Dirk sent me a friend request on SnapChat."

She stops with coffee halfway to her lips, "Really? He's not supposed to have a Snap Chat account."

I look at my phone, then over to her.

"Let's send a picture of us to his SnapChat account!"

Her devious smile is my answer.

We send the picture.

Funny, I'm not friends with him anymore. Wonder why?

B-b-b-usted!

***

Here's what I am asking my children with SnapChat, you may want to ask yours.

Can someone screen shot your picture during that 30 seconds  it is up, or does SnapChat prevent this?

Do you know all the people you are chatting with? If you don't, you need to delete them.

If you were to apply for a job, what would they find researching you online?

Where do the pictures go? To a SnapChat server? How do you know they are deleted after they disappear from your phone?

I then show them the news stories about foolish children sending pictures to SnapChat thinking the recipient will keep them discreet, however, the recipient does not!

Of course, I get the rolling of the eyes, but I'm hoping that some of it sinks in, we all remember Anthony Weiner, and the phrase, "Don't tweet the meat!"

What lecture do you give? Are you savvy with the technology your children are using? Do you look at their phone periodically?

WTF - How to piss off your children edition

Don't get me wrong I love my children. But yesterday I played race car driver up and down Beech Mountain, so many times the police stopped me in front of Jackalopes asking if I was casing the joint!  Forgotten backpacks, forgotten homework, forgotten lunch boxes. I figured it was time for me to get back at them.  Here's some of my devious plans!!

Hide their chargers. Make sure you hide yours because you know they'll steal it.

Throw their clean clothes on the bed with their dirty clothes.  Never mind, they won't know the difference.  Take their favorite pair of jeans and hide them.

Make comments on all their Instagram photos. Something like, "Honey, you don't look as husky in that Throw Back Picture. Put up the one in the Husky Jeans!"

Ask them in front of their friends, "What's that song by New Direction you like?"

Tell them you left very important instructions on the counter at home.  Write them in cursive.

Screw up their language, "Wow, this lasagna is sick! Oh my God, your Dad was KILLIN IT with his bean recipe!"

Pick them up from school wearing their favorite beanie. ('cause we all know you can't fit in their jeans)

If they forget something, walk into the school in your Christmas PJs and braless sweatshirt, then wait for them!  When they act like they don't know you, wave and yell, "Sweetie!  I have your backpack!" (Guarantee they will NEVER forget it again!)

Call your son, "DUDE!"

Purposely mess up the names of their tricks, "Was that a 196 with a 327 back flip on the side bar?"  Or "Are you going to try the Beef Stroganoff with a Side of Gravy today?"

Purposely put baby food in their school lunch, things like Lunchables, tube apple sauce, Go Gurts and of course their favorite Jello pudding!  Don't forget to add the Fruitables box juice!  Better yet, put in your Prune Juice Smoothie with a note, "This will help make you regular sweetie!"

Change their ring tone to Back In Time by Pitbull or "Hopelessly Devoted by Olivia Newton John.

Send your picture to their Snapchat story. (Yeah kids, we parents know about Snapchat, we are hip!)

Turn your radio up and sing Open Arms by Journey as loud as you can as you pull up in the Carpool line.

And the best way to piss off your kids?

Tell them you signed up to chaperone the school dance

 or better yet.....

Smile and say, "Honey, we get to spend ALL DAY together! I signed up the chaperone your school field trip! Isn't that great?"

Can't you feel the love from their death stares?  I can.

What would you add?

WTF - Date Night

Moving into the realm of dating. No, not for me but my boys are now noticing girls, which means, girlfriends, which means dating.

This is all new to me.  I mean I've been out of the dating world for over 30 years, I've honestly forgotten the dating things. Especially the "before you can drive" dating thing.

So I reach back to my memories, how my Mom would drive us to the movies and drop us there, or over to "Mickey D's" or waiting out in front of the roller skating rink while I waited for the "We're gonna slow things down so go ahead and pick a partner" songs to come on.  Remember the couples skates?

Ahhh, dating.

I start with picking up the girlfriend and they've chosen a movie, but the movie doesn't start for another hour. Do we stay in the car and stare at each other for an hour?

Enter your best standby in the world of parents.

The mall.

Perfect because they can walk around, I can sit in the food court, go hit the office supply store or better yet, Dicks Sporting Goods! Coming from a very small town, it is rare I can hit a Dick's Sporting Goods or a Target!

They disappear for an hour while I shop, sip on a coffee and peruse sports bras.

One thing I did forget when doing the mall thing, it could get expensive. Don't worry honey, it was all on SALE!

Next comes dropping them off at the movie theater. Make sure your movie theater is near the mall, because you don't want to kill two hours sitting in the car reading a book. Unfortunately the theater wasn't big enough for the three of us, and I couldn't find a romantic comedy at the same time. I got lucky and found the used book store. (We're gonna need a bigger book shelf)

After the movie comes dinner, again, make sure you are in a densely populated area if possible. That way I dropped them off at Olive Garden, crossed the street and hit Bonefish, my favorite restaurant. Of course I had my binoculars with me so I could stalk their dinner date.

So I sit at the bar, with my new books, a large plate of Saucy Shrimp and Ahi Tuna in front of me,  relaxing.

Until this dude decides this single lady at the bar looking pretty happy with her books and food must be looking for a date.

"Well hey there, what are you reading?" (Is that today's pickup lines?)

 I look at him, smiling, and in my best "Mom" voice, say,

"Seriously, I'm not out looking. I'm killing time while my son is on a date."

He looks at me as if I am crazy, then I guess using the words "son" and "date" scared the poor guy because he ended up three chairs down from me, intensely concentrating on his plate of food.

So if you are taking the kids out on a date, make sure it's a relaxing date for you as well. Hit the bookstore, walk the mall, read those books and by all means, include a nice meal.

What do you do to kill the time while your "not old enough to drive" kids are out on a date?

WTF - If I woke up a man....

If I woke up with a penis,  I would be different, I mean do things differently:

I wouldn't stick it anywhere it doesn't belong.

I wouldn't brag about it to my friends.

I wouldn't be checking if it is still there on a regular basis.  Or maybe I would.  Because I could grab it whenever I want.

I wouldn't find references to it any chance I could.

I would never name it.  No Puff, the One Eyed Dragon, or Meat Hammer, or Definitely NOT Tiny Flute.

I wouldn't even use the Dicktionary, really, I had to go there.

I wouldn't be a dick about having a dick.

I wouldn't wear tight clothes accentuating what I already know.

I guess I would have a ball, or maybe two.

Of course, mine would look like the statue of David, not an over 40 elderly well, um, worm.

But then the possibilities:

I'd pee outside in the woods with out a care.  The first time I didn't have to wipe with a leaf, or worst yet a poison ivy leaf (yes, we will not go there)

I'd show everyone in my family that you can actually make the toilet if you try.

I'd probably ask for a raise.

And yes, I'd probably consume a six pack of beer and go out into the snow and write....

A poem.

What did you think?


And, in case you are wondering, if you were a man, well, ummm, you can calculate your size here

WTF - How My Elf is Lame

Everyone has that beautiful holiday tradition,  mine include drinking egg nog, making more egg nog, then wondering where all the egg nog went.

But I digress, everyone's now posting all their creative Elf on a Shelf pictures and I realized my Elf is lame.

First of all, we don't even have an Elf on a Shelf. I threw that hissy fit in the middle of the Barnes and Noble, "They want 25.95 for THAT? No way! I only have enough for a Gingerbread Spice Latte!"

So I figured we weren't elfing it, I mean I totally screwed up the Tooth Fairy, the first tooth falling out and all I had was a $20 bill in my wallet. I was taking out loans when both kids started losing teeth! Anything involving getting back up in the middle of the night, I wasn't doing it. I gave up getting up in the middle of the night when my kids did.

No way.  No how.

Then they guilted me into it. "Why don't we have an elf?" "Taylor's elf talks to Santa, no one talks to Santa about us? Why be good when no one tells Santa!" Insert two sad faces.

They had me there, why be good when there is no North Pole reporter? I had 25 days to Christmas including two weeks of school break, I didn't have enough egg nog if my kids decide they don't need to be good.  I had to come up with an "elf" plan.

I still wasn't buying the damn elf, so I made one up. "Hanz" started writing notes to my kids in the smallest handwriting possible. (Enter magnifying glass and book of santa jokes)  They had an elf, I had a way to actually make them behave during the two weeks off from school!!  They'd get out of control and I'd say, "HANZ!" watching them fall back in line.

But I can't be cute with an elf, I had to be lame. One blogger "Two Knitting Needles and 5 Beautiful Kids" shared pictures of her Elf pillow fight.

Her elf looked adorable sleeping in a tissue box with cotton balls for pillows.
I short sheeted their beds.

She shared pictures of a marshmallow fight, complete with a score board (a score board!).
I put green dye with glitter in the toilet telling them it was elf pee and poop.

She put candy under their pillow.
I put a real piece of Kingsford Coal.  (By the way, it's hard to get that shit out of sheets)
****that worked for a few days, they were actually good.

She shared that their elf mixed up their lunches, jumbling everything.
I put a panty liner in each lunch box.

She shared a picture of Elf by the Gingerbread house. decorating it while they sleep.
I put him on the liquor cabinet. (Both kids and hubby got a kick out of that.)

Her sweet little elf got married and had a baby.
I thought about having the talk with the kids about how you can't get married AND have a baby during the 30 days leading to Christmas but let that one go.
So, our elf adopted a stuffed mouse ornament from the tree.

So, there you have it. I may be lame but I think a bourbon drinking, note writing, trickster is much more fun than any other elf.

Now I've got to go and find that egg nog recipe again, we're still counting the days until Christmas.

Here's my Elf on a Shelf!

WTF - Gingerbread House Style

Every year, like childbirth, I forget how much I hate putting together the Gingerbread House. 

Here is the scenario in our home:

Buy the Gingerbread house kit because who has time to bake all those pieces.
Leave it on the floor.
The dog gets into it, nibbles the pieces.
Get pissed.

Go out and buy another Gingerbread Kit because it is a Christmas tradition dammit.
Put it on top of the refrigerator. Forget about it.
Three days before Christmas remember it is there.
Get pissed.

Invite a few friends because you need other Moms sharing the wine and the misery of putting together the house.

Open the box, everyone gets excited as all the candy pieces fall out. 
Some of the gumdrops seem a little stale.
Kids descend on the candy like locusts, eating what they can reach.
Get pissed, slap away little hands, pour a glass of wine.

Forgot you were supposed to make the icing and put the house together ahead of time.
Realize how much fun it is for 6 kids crowding around you as you try piecing the house together.
The house falls down.
Kids groan, reach for candy.
Get pissed, drink more wine.

Kids wreck the your home as you sweat getting the Gingerbread house to stand.
Finally the house stands, with great fanfare tell the kids they can decorate it.
There are 2 gum drops and only peppermints left, they ate the rest of the stuff. 
The kids fight over who gets the last two gumdrops.
One licks both of the gumdrops, effectively claiming them.
The other falls backwards on their chair.
The Gingerbread house falls down again.
Get pissed, open a second bottle of wine.

Pull out the candy you saved for their stockings.
Jerry-rig the pieces of the house together with staples, and toothpicks.
The kids have lost interest in decorating the house, they are now wrestling

Let the kids eat the rest of the icing, and the candy you pulled out.
Drink wine with your friends wondering why the kids are going crazy.

Finally feed the rest of the house to the dog, something you should have done in the first place.

Typical Melang Language

We, the Melangs have a language all our own. I thought I would share a few words with you.

Procaffinator - usually Mom, who procrastinates until that second cup of coffee finishing with a, "Oh shit!  We have ten minutes."

Goredom - that moment when you realize you've watched too many Walking Dead episodes and can still hear zombies after the television is off----looks over my shoulder.

Rerunuitis - watching  Criminal Minds episode until halfway through realizing you've seen this one before.

Reruneron - continuing watching that Criminal Minds because even thought you've seen it before you cannot remember the ending.

Ohyeahathon - finally getting to the end of that Criminal Minds and just as the climax comes, you remember the ending. Watching another episode of the show and the same thing happens again.

Suggestivitis - That fear that you may actually find out that your mother knows more than you do.

Expritius - a unknown fear of expiration dates on food, usually hitting children between the ages of 9-? where they cannot touch anything in the refrigerator that is two to four days from the expiration.

OJacardia - fear that the universe will implode if you consume the last drop of milk or OJ or any other liquid. Usually followed by Shelfopoly - putting the carton back on the shelf with that ominous last drop inside.

Ridiculitis  - the malady where a parent cannot stop laughing after a child gives explanation for current grades, usually followed by Severe Room Indenture - a childhood malady involving pale skin, non focusing pupils due to too much time spent in their room.

Teenager's Ear - this malady is usually accompanied by Fluttering Eyelid Syndrome when a parent asks them if they did all their chores.

Smeizure  - uncontrolled movement of arms, rolling of eyes, gnashing of teeth with possible loss of equilibrium the first five minutes after a parent takes a child's Smart Phone.

Gravity Assisted Stupidicus  - a child coming into the home, breathing heavy a large knot on their head staring with, "You are not going to believe this."

Incidentaloma - the brother coming in with Gravity Assisted Stupidicus causing failure to tell the whereabouts of his brother.

Life Receptical - the holding place of all things valuable - food, clothing, dishes, backpacks, sometimes called The Floor.

Fridgehole - the back part of the refrigerator holding your science experiments of the past 5 years, including the possible sister cell to Penicillin.

WTF Cheers to us non Helicopter Moms

It is amazing how quickly you can go from front and center of Mom Central to the woman in the yoga pants, with the meth looking hairdo, throwing your kids out of the car in the carpool line screaming,

"Run you mothers!  RUUUUNNNNN!"

I do stop, picking up the crap including a few moldy Happy Meal toys they kicked out of the car sprinting for the closing door.  I'm not a litterer.

For some reason, I can make it to the school much quicker than the other Moms I talk to in the carpool line.  Or maybe they are politely telling me I am a terrible driver.

There are helicopter Moms, then there are Moms like me:

I'm that one finding out about the fundraiser, when my son comes home saying everyone got the little rubber ducky, or monkey, or polar bear or whatever it was but me.

I'm like.

"There was a fundraiser?  You never gave me the information?"

Of course the little shit, pulls the envelope out of the big pile of recycling in the pantry.

I read it over.

Oh please, there is no way all those other parents sold $216.27 dollars worth of shit for the little plastic animal necklace, let alone that kid actually collecting all 7!

They paid off the school.  How do I know? Because I was guilty enough one year doing it. I filled out the student fundraising sheet with a bunch of names and addresses, keeping all 16 tubs of cookie dough for myself. Did the school care?  Not one bit!  How did I know?  I put names like

Chris P. Bacon
Ima Burnbutts
Bob Roberts
Ura Johnson
Not a single family member because, hey, some are in the same school district, I could get outed by the chairman of the fundraising committee saying to my sister in law, "Did you enjoy the white chocolate macadamia nut cookie dough?"

The school expects that from us lame parents. But hey, they get their money, I gain about 15 pounds eating cookie dough raw (because that's what I do) and we are all happy.

Now, I'm on duty for the school dance, my son cheerfully explains to me. "You are a chaperone!"

Oh God.  A dance, wasn't he learning to walk yesterday? Putting the ruler between the boy and girl dancing? (Really, I grew up in Catholic School, your school didn't do this?)

When is the dance?  I ask.
I don't know, he replied. An apple not too far from the tree.

So I turn to Google.  Did you know the Halloween Dance at my son's school was on the 1st in 2012, and again on the 31st in 2013?  I can find every date except for 2015.  I'm trying really hard not being  that Mom.

"So, when is the school dance?" I write to the teacher.
"Did you not see the flyer, the dance RSVP was due two days ago." The teacher replies.
"Can I bribe you with some cookie dough to sneak him in?" I ask.

Luckily, I didn't procrastinate enough, the school replied they don't have a date yet.

Whew!  I'm one step ahead of the game.

Might as well celebrate with some cookie dough.

Disclaimer: Don't mention the cookie dough to my kids. They may realize some of it is expired and we still have 2 tubs to go.

Alone Time - What?

The transition from homeschool back to public school did not come without a caveat.

Sure this getting up at 5am is killing me, but someone has to do it.

Sure, getting them to bed early every night is a battle. I fixed it, I decorated their rooms looking like classrooms, they fall asleep the minute they walk in them.

Sure, I'm making lunches EVERY single day, sometimes throwing a cheese stick and apple in there.



Sure, I'm dealing with the extra time in the mirror for my eldest because there are GIRLS at school.

But guess what?

I drop them off it's, it's

quiet.

Like, no one complaining about my Classic Rock station (since when did all my childhood songs end up on the Classic Rock station?  About the same time all my childhood toys end up in the antique store)

No fighting over the front seat.

No dueling songs on phones.

Silence.

At first it was unnerving, I wasn't used to conversations with myself again. I wasn't used to thinking uninterrupted. I wasn't used to going to the bathroom with the door open and not worrying about someone screaming.

I was supposed to miss them, right?

Now I feel guilty.

Making myself feel better involved:

A hot cup of coffee consumed before it got cold while reading the morning paper.
A trip to the bathroom without someone banging on the door.
A hot shower long enough setting off the alarms at the local reservoir.
Reading People Magazine on the toilet without someone walking in on me.
Walking around the house naked because I can. (Do not drop by for coffee before 9am)
Breakfast of Salted Caramel Dark Chocolate.
Actually applying makeup.

I think I could get used to this. I have to, there's another 165 days left in the school year.

What do you do with your "alone" time?  Do you have "alone" time?

School Lunch - What are your kids throwing away?

DISCLAIMER: I am not a nutritionist. These are my suggestions. If you are a nutritionist, then stop reading now.

Without you realizing it, your child has a lot of control over what they eat for lunch at school.  Whether you pack a lunch for them, or they bring the tray from the cafeteria what stays in front of them and what ends up in the trash is truly their decision.  I used to think that cafeteria lunches were the easiest option (for me) until I went for lunch with my son in elementary school.

What I saw on the tray was not the most appetizing meal, sure it had some nutritional value (the pizza was on whole wheat crust) but I was appalled watching almost every single one of the children throw away the fruit on their tray.  Why?  Because served with today's lunch was an orange.

Not cut, not peeled, just an orange.

What is an elementary school child to do with this?  I watched some bite into it, grimacing at the sour taste, while others just rolled it on the table in front of them.  So I decided, I had to make something they would actually eat.  How do you determine what a child will eat at lunch?

1.  It has to be easy. Lunch time for children is a socialization time.  Their mind is not focused on their food, it is free talking with their buddies!  Make sure everything in the lunch box is a no brainer, easy to open, something they don't have to look at and wonder what it is.

2.  Make it edible.  If you are adding an apple, take a minute at home cutting it up.  This makes it easier during lunch time, most children do not have the attention span of eating an entire apple.  I usually cut half for the lunchbox, half for me.  That way the entire apple is eaten. Melons should be cut into bitesize chunks, packing the silverware does not mean they will use it, smaller chunks keep chins and such from getting sticky when biting into a larger piece of fruit.

3.  Crusts or to not crust the sandwich.  There was a 2002 study stating that the cancer fighting antioxidants baked into bread were 8 times greater in the crust, then there was my mother saying "If I ate the crust my hair would turn curly."  Just remember, if your child does not like the crust, leaving it on means they will take two to three bites of the INSIDE of the sandwich leaving the rest, cutting the crust means the entire sandwich is eaten. Or, if there isn't a crust debate in your home, don't even start one, leave the crust on.

4. Watch your sugar. Most times, the largest amount of sugar in the lunchbox is in the drink.  Many schools do not allow soft drinks in lunches, but watch the sugars of non carbonated drinks.  Remember that some energy drinks contain caffeine and sugar, meant to be used during or after a workout, not when sitting and eating lunch. One of the easiest things to get down my children is the flavored water, the best would be just water, but we're still working on that battle. One of the benefits of the cafeteria is fresh milk daily, another great choice for your child.

5. Make it fun. I've seen to the completely off the board healthy lunches, where every child is looking in the box saying, "What is that?" Don't single your child out with an over the top lunch, they may not eat it because of the ribbing from friends.  I'm not saying to not have fun. My one son loves sushi, so one morning I tossed that in his lunch! He came home from school laughing at all his friends "ewwing" that he was eating fish!

6. Add in the tradable.  Some schools do not allow trading items from lunch boxes but if yours does, I always add in the small sweet "tradable" treat. If you have the time, make those chocolate chip cookies at home with your child, if you can't add in something small and sweet - gummies, cookies, cake. This is a fun time of lunch when everyone evaluates what the other has and in some cases, trades around.

7. Your thermos is your lifeline. Most children will eat sandwiches, but consider the benefit of investing in a nice thermos. Anything left over from dinner can be lunch the next day.  Monday is my soup making day, I'll make two types of soups and put them in the thermos during the week  Sometimes if I have nothing in the house, I can heat up a frozen meal (my children like chicken fried rice) and throw that in the thermos.  The only problem I have with thermoses is when they are forgotten at school for a week and of course I'm in charge of the hazmat material.

Finally, if you want, leave them that note of encouragement.  Most elementary school children love finding a note in their lunch box, Middle and High School they say they don't, but I beg to differ.  I misspelled a word on a joke I wrote on a note and my High Schooler called me on it!

Remember, lunch is the middle refueling of your child's airplane, make good choices and they will fly through the second half of their day with a full tank!

Trail Running Conversation

So I have my favorite trails, places where I feel out of touch with the world, the only sound is my feet hitting the dirt and my breath.  (Sure some days it sounds like a porn flick with the amount of panting I do)  I connect with nature, ignoring a few houses along the way.

After today's run, I had to stop by a local store for something quick, so rather than showering then running off the mountain, I quickly ducked in Fred's.  There was a very nice older man following me in the store.  The following conversation only happens to me:

"Hello?" Nice old man, noticing my running clothes.
Me, looking around wondering if he is a stalker.  "Um yes?"
"Do you run upper pond creek a lot?"
Me, thinking definitely stalker, "Yes, I do.  I love that run.  It's my favorite. I care mace for the bears."
He smiles at me.  "I've seen you stop a lot on that run.  Keeping the deer away also?"
Me with  a beet red face, "Um yes, keeping the deer away."

Lessons learned:

1.  If you stop to pee in the woods, take better notice of your surroundings.  The people in China only hear you pee if nobody in the woods sees you.

2.  Pick more dense bushes, especially if the skin of your butt hasn't seen the light of day since the beginning of time.

3.  When you think you are all alone and connecting with nature, don't go with the flow unless you cannot hold it until you get back home.

4.  Just because the lights are not on, it doesn't mean no one's home.

5.  And yes, keeping the deer away sounds so much better than the alternative.

Oh well, I guess he was grateful his azalea bushes hadn't been eaten this spring.  And I'm glad I've included squats in my daily workout otherwise the poor dude would have his property up for sale.

I was on Instagram before Instagram was KEWL!

My children are starting to foray into social media.  Explaining to me that Instagram is the way to go, Facebook is for "old people."

I even had one of their friends say, "I deleted my Facebook account when my MOM tried to friend me!"

No, not a butt shot but Instagram worth, don't you think?

Oh my God, your Mom is on Facebook?  She really has a life she wants to share with the world? Oh wait, she's just a Mom, that person that takes care of you, not a real person.

Oh please, I've been on Instagram since, well, almost before you were born.  I was already on before Instagram was COOL or as the kids say KEWL!  How did I learn about this social media site before everyone else?  Unknowingly!

You see I had a rash on well, um, a place that is vampire white due to lack of sun.  And I couldn't see it in the mirror no matter which way I turned.  So I had a great idea, I'd take a picture of it with my phone, then save it so I can compare in a week after using a certain medicated cream.  Easy peasy, right?

I took the picture, examined it with my glasses on, turned the phone different ways, figuring it wasn't as bad as I thought and saved the picture.

Then my phone told me I had a new comment on my picture.  A new comment?  On what picture?

I clicked on the notification, and three of my friends had already commented on my rash picture that was saved automatically to Instagram.

"Ewwww!"

"Did you go see the dermatologist?"

"WTH?

Luckily, I only had 6 friends on Instagram, and they were good friends.  I was able to delete the picture, keeping them as friends.  One showed me the "do not automatically share" button on my phone, and voila!  My Instagram account, that I didn't know I had, was created, already linked to Facebook and Twitter.  Wow, this internet thing sure is easy.

So I got into Instagram before everyone else thought it was cool.  And I made my profile private making sure if I accidentally post another picture of my Bum, it's to my friends only.  And now with the children getting into it, it is all about the likes.  How many likes your picture got.

"Mom, you only got 14 likes on your picture.  You need more friends."

Well, my likes are "real" likes, they are people I actually know.  And I have enough drama in my life, I really don't need any more friends.  And really, who is defined by how many "likes" they received on their picture?

I wonder how many likes that first picture would get today?  

Let me go see if I can find it.

What Childbirth Has Taught Me - I Can Endure Anything

Childbirth.  That one lie that every women tells you, “You’ll forget all about it when you hold that baby.”   Luckily this is not true, God intended us to not forget about childbirth, because it prepares for other, equally harrowing adventures in a lifetime with children.  Some specifics come to mind.

The Doctor’s Visit.  Childbirth and all the completely humiliating doctor’s visits that accompany it prepare us for a lifetime of doctor’s visits with our children.  (Yes, even some of them when they are adults)  Childbirth prepares us for those first visits to the Pediatrician with a baby, when they get their first shots and exams.  My child after the first checkup, immediately recognized the doctor’s office. Knowing it entailed shots, he started screaming the minute we walked through the revolving door.  He continued screaming in the waiting room, in the examination room, through the entire process.  The screams to my surprised got louder when the nurse arrived with the needle, after which he went back to his “normal” screams.  I don’t remember any instructions from any doctor’s visit because I couldn’t hear her, all I remember was the child screaming.  If I can endure monthly hour long screaming episodes, I attribute that to childbirth. 

Childbirth helps us deal with getting older.  Once you go through showing everything off to a group of doctors, nurses and close family members (with one of them filming) suddenly you are less conscious about your body.  Childbirth also prepares you for the lifetime of people walking in on you when you are naked.  It is nothing after 46 hours of labor where everyone walking into the room looks at your crotch.  Makes it easier when I child walks in on you after a shower.  You turn around with everything hanging out asking, “What?” 

Childbirth also prepares mothers for the teenage years.  Going through 36 hours of the sights and smells of giving birth makes anything coming out of your teenager’s room seem pale in comparison.  Waiting, in pain, for 15 hours makes the 45 minute wait for your hot water to return after a teenager’s shower seem like a blink in time. 

Childbirth is a tough experience, something I will never forget.  The above are difficult, but my lessons learned in the delivery room prepared me to me a mom.  The hardest most difficult experience, that I have likened to childbirth is the Chuck E Cheese experience.  Not only has the joys of pregnancy prepared me for this, but the pain of childbirth made me battle ready.

Going into Chuck E Cheese with children is like being pregnant.  Everyone is excited and happy in the beginning, almost kind of giddy.  Like the “honeymoon stage” of pregnancy, you watch your child enjoy the rides, play the games, ordering pizza and of course at our Chuck e Cheese, beer.  (remember I already gave birth)  Then as time wears on, you realize that certain things are making you feel uncomfortable.  Like, did you son just pickup something off the floor and eat it?  Or, can someone please turn off that ride that yells “Yahoo” every 2 minutes?  Yes, it is every two minutes because in your obsessiveness you’ve timed it.

Then you have to crawl through the Chuck E Cheese maze getting a stuck child out.  You squeeze your fat ass through the tubes until you locate the toddler sitting and crying.  Pulling him back out makes you think childbirth was a little easier.  But your next experience proves you wrong.

Just like the end of a pregnancy, there is a slight bit of dread, but anticipation as you pack your bag for the hospital.  In Chuck E Cheese, or in the Arcade, or anywhere kids play games, your child walks up with 4,219 tickets ready to check out.  Your husband usually, watching the child come up with a wad of tickets in his hand, has to go to the bathroom at that time from too much beer (did I mention our Chuck E Cheese serves beer?)  You look down at that little minion with dread as you approach the prize counter.

You are behind 4 other children picking out their prizes, knowing that waiting with the tickets they are holding, you’ve got an easy 20 minutes many longer.  Knowing the desired outcome (a happy child) you can handle the wait.  Then the real labor comes in.

Your child has 4,219 tickets.  They first want the grand prize of a Nerf gun.  The Nerf gun unfortunately costs 24,897 tickets, just a slight difference from your child’s current wad.  Your husband is still in the bathroom as you explain to a crying child that they cannot have the Nerf Gun and they will have to choose another item.  They start dispensing their 4,219 tickets with a 6 ticket Tootsie Roll. 4,216 tickets left.  This is where your experience with labor and deliver comes into play.  Luckily we can order a beer at our Chuck E Cheese as the child moves up to a 15 ticket kazoo. 4,201 tickets left.  Then just like childbirth 8 hours later, you are still pushing with 157 tickets left.  Here comes the final push, lean down to the child saying, "Look!  The kazoo is 160 tickets, they'll give you 3 tickets!"  The attendant gives it to you and everyone walks out of Chuck E Cheese cradling their newborn prizes swaddled up in a brand new bag.  Of course, the kazoo disappears the minute you shut the minivan door.  You endured childbirth, you’re not enduring the constant kazoo of “Hot Cross Buns” during your 15 minute ride home.

Funny though, like Childbirth you say you will never "do that again?"  Well, for some reason you're back 9 months later either at the hospital or Chuck E Cheese! Welcome to childbirth, again.  It is no wonder why hospital’s provide epidurals and Chuck E Cheese serve beer.  Coincidence?  I think not.

Multitasking - That Grey Area Style

I have been come a queen.  Sure, I got a crown yesterday.  But this is different.  I have become a queen at multitasking.  I quit the real multitasking a long time ago, forgoing being able to juggle volunteering, working, taking care of kids, playing with my honey, writing at the same time.  Oh wait, I still do that.  This is my new version of multitasking:

I can actually make it through a story on the internet on the toilet.  Surprising?  Yes!  My children are now old enough that a shut bathroom door means privacy.  Well, sometimes.  And I am saying a blog post, and a typical blog post is 250 words or less.

I've come to love my elliptical.  I can get all of my work done on my computer while sweating off the wine from the night before.  Wait, did I say there was wine from the night before?

I can talk to my friends in several ways at once.  They will instant message me on Facebook, then while I am talking to them on Facebook (sending my very hysterical emojis thank you very much) that will also start sending me text messages.  I can keep both of these separate conversations going at once and actually make sense - except for autocorrect, that worthless piece of shirt.

I can write this blog post and surf the internet at one time.  Because while I am writing this blog post my Facebook is buzzing with those instant messages while my phone is telling me those same people have something different to say.

I can think of something funny to say while looking up a funny picture on the internet to post as a comment.  Because, we always know that people "like" pictures so much better than words.

I can be cooking a meal, drinking a glass of wine and listening to what someone is saying to me.  Ok, let's be honest I can only do two of those things at one time.

I can be thinking of a story while, well, never mind.  Since I write romance novels, I'll leave the rest up to you.

How do you do the new multitasking?

My new love affair with Emoticons

So I finally found the emoticons on my phone.  And I am in love.  What better way to truly convey my emotions that with a tiny little picture at the end of my text, or my email, or my post.  The hard part is all my emoticon savvy friends that can send an emoticon immediately with a text when I am still searching for the perfect little picture, something capturing my feelings of the moment.

If I am extremely excited about something, I can add the hands clapping - doesn't that say so much more.

Or if I am posting a picture of the snow (and yes, I know all you gentle readers are getting sick of them) but I just found a tiny picture of skis.  Now, you know I am a skier from this little picture!

I can add kisses to any text I'm sending to my honey. I know he feels my love.

When I find something on sale.  I accentuate it with this cute little picture of a bag of money.  Now if only I actually got the bag of money, sigh.

Finally, I found this really cute picture of a Hershey's kiss.  I sent it to my son after he won a race, telling him I was proud of him with a few Hershey Kisses showing my love.

"Mom, that's poo, not a Hershey's kiss."

Oh, wow.  I'd better to back and check all the other texts I've accentuated with my cute little emoticons.

And just to annoy my children, I'm constantly sending them my love through these little pictures, enough that they yell to me from the other room, "Stop it MOM!  Enough!"

What's your favorite emoticon?

How Sweet It Is - The News

THE NEWS

We arrived at the restaurant, one of my father’s favorites because being thrifty, he always felt that he saved money on the buffet, especially if my brother was there.  This was a seafood buffet, a typical Maryland tradition, full of different fresh catch of fish, crab cakes and your usual buffet fare - macaroni and cheese, salads, ribs, chicken, the whole nine yards.

“Do you have a reservation?” The host asked us.

“No.” My father answered.

“Then the wait is 45 minutes.” He said looking down his glasses at us.

We put our name in, milling in the front of the restaurant with a million other people, the air warm from so much body heat.  Sweating because we were dressed for winter and hanging inside a restaurant.

A different host went walking through the milling crowd yelling. “The Smith Party!  Smith Party of 6?”

My Dad waited watching for any sign of the Smith party.  Finally after several attempts, he raised his hand.  “We are the Smiths.”

My sisters and I, raised as good Catholics were shocked.  Has he lost his mind?  We are not the Smith party.  He looked at us and winked.  We followed him to a table in the back, large and roomy for all six of us.

The waiter came up addressing the table.  “Good morning!  My name is Phillip Yu.”

My Dad looked around the table, especially at my brother, the “bottomless pit.”  “Yes, you fill up me.”

He started explaining the procedures of the buffet, when a hostess walked up to us.  “Are you the Smith party?”

My Dad looked around the table, then back to the girl.  “Never heard of them in my life.”

She looked at her clipboard, back at the table, walking away.

We all looked at him, and a few minutes of silence he looked back at us.  “What?”

It was a delicious family dinner.

THE NEWS

“The doctor is schedule to meet with us between 12 and 1 today.  Have you gotten your plane ticket?” My sister’s voice sounds stressed.

“Yeah, I’ve got a ticket on order, so I can be there on Friday if you need me to be.”

“Let’s keep praying.  The important thing is that it hasn’t gotten to his internal organs, if it’s gotten to his internal organs than it is bad.” I hear papers rustling over the phone.  Knowing my sister, she’s already all over the internet, researching and printing out different options, treatments.

“How bad?” I really don’t want to hear the news, but I have to know.  If I am coming to see him, I’m not going to be blind sided.

“Four to six months.  If he’s lucky.” It sits between us on that phone connection, like the cancer sitting in my father.

I’m not going to believe it. “OK, let’s just wait and see what the tests have to say.  And let’s get everyone to pray.” We needed warriors, we need them fast.

“I will.  I’m sure I’ll be talking to you tomorrow.” I don’t like the sadness in her voice, she can’t let herself be down, not at a time like this.

“Be strong.  Don’t let him think that you don’t have faith.” I say to her, myself included.

“I know.” She sounds doubtful.

“I love you.”  I want to be off the telephone, off it now.

“I love you too.” The connection between us drops, but I’m still holding the phone.  It takes me a few minutes before I finally replace it on the cradle.

The conversation haunts my dreams when I actually did sleep.  It is like a broken record.  “Four to six months” looping endlessly as I occupy myself with chores around the house.  I keep telling myself that sometimes doctors can be wrong.  We are praying for a miracle, and don’t we deserve it?  He’s already been through so much, really?  Does this have to happen?  Keep positive, it won’t be in his internal organs.

I catch myself asking why, why did this have to happen to us?  I know that we are not immune to everything, but why something this terrible?  Why this much pain and suffering?  Why something that maybe I can’t handle?  I’ve always been there for him, the positive heart when things get down.  Can I do it this time? I hear my aunt’s voice again telling me we cannot ask these types of questions-the answers are God’s.  Don’t spend time torturing, focus on moving forward with the job.

I think about the warrior.  He’s in that hospital bed probably awake, wondering the same questions.  Maybe he’s taking himself to a different place, a place where he is happy.  I hope they gave him a sleeping pill, I remember him saying how hard it is facing things when you are tired.

He’s the one living through this, he’s the one with the fight on his hands.  I just don’t want it to be him, I don’t want him to have to go through this pain.  He’s the greatest person I know, he wouldn’t hurt anyone, now he’s the one hurting and there is nothing I can do about it.  

I try accomplishing things but distraction makes my efforts in vain. Each time I look at the clock I think, “3 more hours until the meeting,” or, “two more hours to the meeting.”  I call him once in the morning, when I know he is alone.

“Hey Pops, how are you?” My voice sounds falsely light.

“Better.  I was so tired last night.  The sleeping pill knocked me out last night.” He sounds like himself, I am glad.

“Good, I’m glad you got to sleep.” I’m pacing my living room.

“I tell you, I am so happy that all those tests are over with.” He does sound genuinely happy.

“So it was hard.” My heart reaches through the line to him.

“It was murder.  I started at 8 o’clock yesterday morning and went until 730 last night.  God, I was exhausted.  I am so glad that that’s over.” I can hear his smile.

“You are a strong person.  You made it through the tests, you can make it through anything.” I am proud of him, he simply moves forward, finding something positive.  

“I hope so.  I just want to know.  I hate this waiting part.” I feel his sigh.

“Yeah, me too.  But the meeting is today and at least you will know.” I am telling myself the same thing.

“The doctor did not make it sound too good.” He is back to sounding stressed.

“Screw him.”  I hear laughter.  “Just wait until you get the tests back.  Wait until we know everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah, I know.  It’s just hard.” We both hate waiting.

My heart breaks to hear him say that, but I’m not going to let him hear it.  “Are you eating?”  Typical Irish comment, in the face of crisis make sure there’s enough food.

“I ate all of my breakfast.  I just wish that I could get my appetite back.” There is the sound of movement in the room.

“One thing at a time, the only way you can keep your strength is to eat.” What else can I say, focus on something I can control.

“You sound like my mother.” There is the smile back.

“After all that hospital shit, you’ll be ready for a big steak, huh?” I can see him in his favorite joint, Steak and Ale (“Kelly don’t you love restaurant names that make sense, Steak and Ale, why name it anything else?”)

“Uh huh.”  His silence is telling me it is time to go, his attention is elsewhere.

“OK, I’ll call you later on this afternoon.  I love you, Pops.” We each have our pet names, he is and will only be the person calling me Kate.

“I love you too Kate.”

I can hear the conversation in my head again as I walk around the house wondering what to do.  I can’t work, every time I sit at my computer my fingers poised over the keys, nothing comes to mind.  I go and hold my dog, or I wipe down the kitchen counters again and again.  I think about washing clothes walking up stairs throwing them in.  I sit at my computer again, check my e-mail, the writing that I need to do ,scaring me because it is not coming.

Three hours until they call me.

There are encouraging e-mails from everyone in the family, I feel strength in their support.  

Snow Day

Snow falling all day long.  A wicked wind reminding of me every horror movie I watched as a kid.  That type of wind howling around the house, making you stop, looking at the windows periodically for Jack Frost standing there waiting for an invitation to come in.

This is what makes winter feel so special to my heart.  Days like today when you can take the excuse, opt out and it is OK.  Why do we always need an excuse to step back and spend time with the people we love?  I am guilty of the same thing, which is why today - I'm grabbing that hooky paper and using it, gladly.

Walking out in the swirling snow, feeling the wind as it pushes you up that hill is another special part of a snowy day.  Feeling the forces of nature, reminding you that you are small.  You are like that small spec, that individual snowflake, make your part of the universe special, don't let it pass you by.  Breathing in cold air, walking with a purpose, find something to be grateful about in this day.

Everything is covered in white, looking fresh and new, unbroken, peaceful.  Then that wind reminds you that nothing stays the same, as you watch the snow create a new piece of artwork as the wind pushes it in different directions.  Peace and change.  Two things that go hand in hand.

I'm going to sit with my glass of wine and a fire.  I'm going to listen to that wind, trying to interpret what it wants to tell me.  I'm going to accept the peace and change, as I opt out, tag out, play that hooky card.

Maybe just listen to the wind.

New Shoes, New Adventure-I think?

 Low visibility at the ski slopes brought me home early.  I hate not exercising, also wanting to enjoy the snow.  Aha!  My snowshoes, why not take an adventure back in the woods with my new shoes?

Signs I may not be ready?
First I have to have my son show me how to size them, they blew away off the shoes as I tried to put them on outside.

Then I almost fall down the front steps into the snowy day.

I round the house, making my way up in the forest, enjoying the quiet.  The wind making the trees knock against each other, a few birds from my bird feeder following me, explaining that the seed is almost gone.


I spend some time walking up hill, wondering how people run in these.  My heart racing, sweating.

Then I stop.  Wait a minute, which way was the house?

Don't panic.

Take inventory.
Check iPhone - almost full charge.  Good, rescue can call me. Conserve your battery life.

Oh wait, I'll just use Find My iPhone for them to find me!

I'm so smart.

Have the Darwin moment when I realize that I could "just follow my footsteps back" as I hear someone yelling,

"Mom, I see you!"

Next adventure on the snowshoes will involve bread crumbs the birds don't like or

perhaps,

an established trail?