We were dangerously close to having a Mitchell Family disaster this morning.
Hubby headed out really early this morning for a weekend trip so I got up a little early, knowing our routine would be a little off. We were running a little bit ahead of schedule and I was feeling pretty proud of myself for keeping us on track. As I went in to make lunches, I told M to feed the fish.
I few minutes later M runs in and tells me that M2 took the lid off and Rosie jumped. WHAT?! So I walk in the office, scan the empty tank and ask where the fish is. In a panic M tells me that he's in a book. There is no book. After some confusion, I realize she's talking about a video case. I check the case - no fish. At this point, I'm in a little panic. 'Where is the fish? Where is HE?' I'm getting a little frantic and the girls are frozen. So I say, maybe not so calmly, 'Help me find him! We need to put him back in the water or he's going to die!'
I may have put a little too much emphasis on the word die.
At that point, M burst into tears and confesses that she took the lid off the tank and then wails that she doesn't want a fish anymore, it's too hard to take care of it. She may have been just a tad bit overwhelmed.
Maybe it was the fact that I had just highlighted the possibility that she may have killed her pet fish.
I did find Rosie and get him back in the tank. He swam for a few minutes so I reassured the girls he was fine. I'm hoping that's true. I checked as we were walking out and he wasn't swimming. But he's a lazy fish so I'm not sure if that really means anything....really, really hoping it doesn't. Six might be a little young to start needing therapy.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Valentine
Happy Valentine's Day!
It isn’t such a big deal around our house. Not that I don’t appreciate romance, because really I do. I just appreciate it a whole lot more when it seems sincere. But we do celebrate it – in a mini way.
I always do something special for the girls. That meant a late night run to the store since I had totally neglected to plan this year. And apparently I wasn’t the only one that didn’t plan because about 90% of the male population of our town was there too. Poor guys, they all looked panicked and desperate to find just the right stuffed bear. Pink …or red…or purple? Which one!? WHICH ONE SHOULD I GET?!
And of course, I also grabbed a box of chocolates for the husband. Because I wanted some chocolate.
So this won’t go down as my most creative Valentine’s, that’s for sure. I don’t think anything can beat our very first Valentine’s together. We had only been dating a few months and he planned a special evening out. I couldn’t wait to exchange gifts. He opened mine and didn’t know what to say. After a moment, he looked at me confused and said “Are these for me?” I had gotten him a sequined thong. Not that I ever, ever wanted to see it on him – but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the look on his face when he opened them. Or when I said, with a completely straight face, “Yeah, I want you to wear them tonight”.
Now that was some Valentine’s panic.
It isn’t such a big deal around our house. Not that I don’t appreciate romance, because really I do. I just appreciate it a whole lot more when it seems sincere. But we do celebrate it – in a mini way.
I always do something special for the girls. That meant a late night run to the store since I had totally neglected to plan this year. And apparently I wasn’t the only one that didn’t plan because about 90% of the male population of our town was there too. Poor guys, they all looked panicked and desperate to find just the right stuffed bear. Pink …or red…or purple? Which one!? WHICH ONE SHOULD I GET?!
And of course, I also grabbed a box of chocolates for the husband. Because I wanted some chocolate.
So this won’t go down as my most creative Valentine’s, that’s for sure. I don’t think anything can beat our very first Valentine’s together. We had only been dating a few months and he planned a special evening out. I couldn’t wait to exchange gifts. He opened mine and didn’t know what to say. After a moment, he looked at me confused and said “Are these for me?” I had gotten him a sequined thong. Not that I ever, ever wanted to see it on him – but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see the look on his face when he opened them. Or when I said, with a completely straight face, “Yeah, I want you to wear them tonight”.
Now that was some Valentine’s panic.
Sunday, February 10, 2013
BDKM
It's amazing that time can be absorbed; days so fluid that they run together almost uninterrupted. It becomes difficult to distinguish one day from the other. We roll along, carry on and flow through life, comforted by it's rhythm.
It's equally amazing how time can be suspended. That one single day can feel like it stretches into eternity; so endless it almost consumes every day before it. It feels like a million days packed into one. That day is somehow marked, distinct and significantly different from every other.
Sometimes those two elements collide and create a whirlwind. That's really how it's felt since my FIL passed away unexpectedly last week.
I can't imagine how it feels to lose a parent. I pray to God that I won't find out for a very, veeeery long time. I know it's hard. I've watched my husband work through this, helpless to provide any real comfort. No one can really understand someone else's grief. It's as unique as a fingerprint; formed from experience and history and the complications of relationships.
My husband grew up in an almost vagabond lifestyle. In extreme poverty, his parents frequently changed jobs. They moved their family every year, sometimes more, into whatever accommodations they could afford (including living in a boxcar). Most the time, the living room was his "bedroom" - he slept on the couch and his clothes were kept in a basket. He was expected to contribute as soon as he was old enough, which meant beginning odd jobs while he was still in elementary school.
He reacted to this environment by making it a priority to escape poverty and the struggles that go with it. Every decision in his life has been centered on creating a secure future. Nothing in his life is without thought, planning, or purpose. One of the reasons I found him so attractive was that he represented to me security and stability - he was strong and solid.
It's such a profoundly different life than his Dad's - the man who left this world with two fishing poles, a gun and $43 dollars. That's it, that was everything he had. Everything. And that was all he wanted. As long as he could sit on the porch and smoke a cigarette, life was good.
And yet, as different as they were, the most important things my husband learned were taught by his father. To be kind, unselfish, forgiving, patient, and helpful. To be a good person and live an upright life.
That's something my FIL did well. Something he taught his son to do well.
So thank you, BDKM, for teaching your son the important things in life. You are loved and will be missed but your spirit will be carried forever in those lessons.
It's equally amazing how time can be suspended. That one single day can feel like it stretches into eternity; so endless it almost consumes every day before it. It feels like a million days packed into one. That day is somehow marked, distinct and significantly different from every other.
Sometimes those two elements collide and create a whirlwind. That's really how it's felt since my FIL passed away unexpectedly last week.
I can't imagine how it feels to lose a parent. I pray to God that I won't find out for a very, veeeery long time. I know it's hard. I've watched my husband work through this, helpless to provide any real comfort. No one can really understand someone else's grief. It's as unique as a fingerprint; formed from experience and history and the complications of relationships.
My husband grew up in an almost vagabond lifestyle. In extreme poverty, his parents frequently changed jobs. They moved their family every year, sometimes more, into whatever accommodations they could afford (including living in a boxcar). Most the time, the living room was his "bedroom" - he slept on the couch and his clothes were kept in a basket. He was expected to contribute as soon as he was old enough, which meant beginning odd jobs while he was still in elementary school.
He reacted to this environment by making it a priority to escape poverty and the struggles that go with it. Every decision in his life has been centered on creating a secure future. Nothing in his life is without thought, planning, or purpose. One of the reasons I found him so attractive was that he represented to me security and stability - he was strong and solid.
It's such a profoundly different life than his Dad's - the man who left this world with two fishing poles, a gun and $43 dollars. That's it, that was everything he had. Everything. And that was all he wanted. As long as he could sit on the porch and smoke a cigarette, life was good.
And yet, as different as they were, the most important things my husband learned were taught by his father. To be kind, unselfish, forgiving, patient, and helpful. To be a good person and live an upright life.
That's something my FIL did well. Something he taught his son to do well.
So thank you, BDKM, for teaching your son the important things in life. You are loved and will be missed but your spirit will be carried forever in those lessons.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
The Thunder Rolls
When it rains, it pours. And thunders. And flashes with lightening.
In the last few days we have been absolutely hammered with life issues. I get that's the way it works, I know life is filled with ups and downs. But I'm more of a straight line girl. I would rather not have all my down at one time. Can we just kinda spread it out evenly instead of dumping it on me all at once? Is that too hard, life? Is it? IS IT?
In trying to manage some of this stuff, we orchestrated a kid delivery. Right before closing husband dropped off a little sickly. Our first flu victim, she seemed to be holding up remarkably well. I was gathering up some papers and closing down when she told me she had to go to the bathroom. So we walk across the hall to the bathroom. Leisurely, with no sense of urgency. When we are two steps away from the toilet when she gets this look on her face. There was no way that look meant anything good. Then she looks up at me, with big shocked eyes, and says "I'm peeing!"
I immediately yank down her pants, swoop her up and throw her on the toilet. It was all one super speed motion. Just as I look to see if she peed her panties, I see something plop on the floor.
Poop.
Liquid poop.
Everywhere.
Oh baby girl, that wasn't peeing at all. Bless her heart, she had no idea what had happened. I think she was as shocked as I was grossed out. But what do you do? You muffle down that gag reflex and get to work. I stripped her down, cleaned her up and managed to discreetly smuggle an almost naked child down to my car. Because that's how this mommy rolls...
In the last few days we have been absolutely hammered with life issues. I get that's the way it works, I know life is filled with ups and downs. But I'm more of a straight line girl. I would rather not have all my down at one time. Can we just kinda spread it out evenly instead of dumping it on me all at once? Is that too hard, life? Is it? IS IT?
In trying to manage some of this stuff, we orchestrated a kid delivery. Right before closing husband dropped off a little sickly. Our first flu victim, she seemed to be holding up remarkably well. I was gathering up some papers and closing down when she told me she had to go to the bathroom. So we walk across the hall to the bathroom. Leisurely, with no sense of urgency. When we are two steps away from the toilet when she gets this look on her face. There was no way that look meant anything good. Then she looks up at me, with big shocked eyes, and says "I'm peeing!"
I immediately yank down her pants, swoop her up and throw her on the toilet. It was all one super speed motion. Just as I look to see if she peed her panties, I see something plop on the floor.
Poop.
Liquid poop.
Everywhere.
Oh baby girl, that wasn't peeing at all. Bless her heart, she had no idea what had happened. I think she was as shocked as I was grossed out. But what do you do? You muffle down that gag reflex and get to work. I stripped her down, cleaned her up and managed to discreetly smuggle an almost naked child down to my car. Because that's how this mommy rolls...
Monday, January 28, 2013
Million Dollar Mystery
I've had a fun and eventful week, which means I haven't had a lot of time to blog. It also means I have a lot to share. But do I want to share tales of excitement? No, of course not. Instead, I would much rather share something totally and utterly embarrassing. And gross.
I went to have some blood work done last week. When they called me back I plopped down in the little chair, threw my arm up and turned away. As I was pulling my sleeve up I said to the phlebotomist "It doesn't hurt but I can't look. I never can. There's just something about seeing the needle." As she pricked me she responded that was pretty much the norm. So we had a nice little 10 second exchange and then she was done.
When I felt her pull the needle out I turned to pull down my sleeve. Immediately I saw a thick, dark hair on my arm. It took me a nano second to recognize what it was.
A pubic hair.
I think I audibly gasped.
I'm not certain how it got on my arm. Ewww.
I am certain it was not mine. Double ewww.
I was almost certain it didn't belong to my husband either. A million times ewww.
She was kind enough to pretend she didn't see it. But that didn't make me feel any better.
When I told my husband he tried to convince me it was one of his arm hairs. Ugh, no. It was definitely of the pubic kind.
So the mystery remains: How long had I been walking around with a foreign pube and where did it come from?
And do I even really want to know?
I went to have some blood work done last week. When they called me back I plopped down in the little chair, threw my arm up and turned away. As I was pulling my sleeve up I said to the phlebotomist "It doesn't hurt but I can't look. I never can. There's just something about seeing the needle." As she pricked me she responded that was pretty much the norm. So we had a nice little 10 second exchange and then she was done.
When I felt her pull the needle out I turned to pull down my sleeve. Immediately I saw a thick, dark hair on my arm. It took me a nano second to recognize what it was.
A pubic hair.
I think I audibly gasped.
I'm not certain how it got on my arm. Ewww.
I am certain it was not mine. Double ewww.
I was almost certain it didn't belong to my husband either. A million times ewww.
She was kind enough to pretend she didn't see it. But that didn't make me feel any better.
When I told my husband he tried to convince me it was one of his arm hairs. Ugh, no. It was definitely of the pubic kind.
So the mystery remains: How long had I been walking around with a foreign pube and where did it come from?
And do I even really want to know?
Friday, January 18, 2013
Two Cents
I’ve been poking a little bit of fun at Manti Te’o since the story broke about his deceased, nonexistent girlfriend. Nothing vicious, just a few funny pictures and comments. There’s always the possibility that he was duped – there’s always the possibility of anything – and if that’s the case, then you have to feel bad for the guy. But you have to take what you know and ask yourself if any of it makes sense and the answer is no, it doesn’t.
When his Dad told reporters they met after a game – maybe he was wrong. Or maybe the reporter got it wrong. Same thing about the statement his Dad made about this girlfriend visiting Manti in Hawaii. People can get mixed up, right?
What I’m having trouble believing is that this relationship was limited to online chats and phone conversations. So maybe it started out that way but as the relationship evolved neither one of them ever wanted more? They didn’t send pictures to each other? They never progressed to Skype or Facetime? Maybe these two college students weren’t technologically savvy or into any of that stuff. Just maybe.
So he cares deeply enough for this woman to declare her his girlfriend but not deeply enough to ever send a gift? Your sick, dying girlfriend is in the hospital and you don’t send flowers or a card? Or something for her funeral? Even if you’re really good at creating a fake person, I’m pretty sure when flowers arrived at the funeral home for a person who was not deceased it would have caused enough confusion for the florist to contact the sender. But perhaps he’s just not a very good boyfriend.
Even after it all unfolds, we’ll never really know the truth. I think that’s why it’s so fascinating – it’s something most of us can’t understand. We will never know why – why would someone dupe him into falling for an imaginary person? Why would he create such a story? In the end, he’ll forever be known as the victim of an elaborate and cruel joke or the guy who told one of the stupidest lies in sports history.
Either way, you gotta have some sympathy for the guy.
*Okay, so in the days following this post Manti did kinda address the things I mentioned - everytime they skyped her pic was blank and he sent flowers to the house, not the funeral home. So he may not be the most observant guy out there but at least now we know he's good boyfriend material.
When his Dad told reporters they met after a game – maybe he was wrong. Or maybe the reporter got it wrong. Same thing about the statement his Dad made about this girlfriend visiting Manti in Hawaii. People can get mixed up, right?
What I’m having trouble believing is that this relationship was limited to online chats and phone conversations. So maybe it started out that way but as the relationship evolved neither one of them ever wanted more? They didn’t send pictures to each other? They never progressed to Skype or Facetime? Maybe these two college students weren’t technologically savvy or into any of that stuff. Just maybe.
So he cares deeply enough for this woman to declare her his girlfriend but not deeply enough to ever send a gift? Your sick, dying girlfriend is in the hospital and you don’t send flowers or a card? Or something for her funeral? Even if you’re really good at creating a fake person, I’m pretty sure when flowers arrived at the funeral home for a person who was not deceased it would have caused enough confusion for the florist to contact the sender. But perhaps he’s just not a very good boyfriend.
Even after it all unfolds, we’ll never really know the truth. I think that’s why it’s so fascinating – it’s something most of us can’t understand. We will never know why – why would someone dupe him into falling for an imaginary person? Why would he create such a story? In the end, he’ll forever be known as the victim of an elaborate and cruel joke or the guy who told one of the stupidest lies in sports history.
Either way, you gotta have some sympathy for the guy.
*Okay, so in the days following this post Manti did kinda address the things I mentioned - everytime they skyped her pic was blank and he sent flowers to the house, not the funeral home. So he may not be the most observant guy out there but at least now we know he's good boyfriend material.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Metal Magic
Something weird is going on.
I’ve been getting hit on.
This never happens to me. Ever. And that’s not one of those statements that’s meant to prompt a compliment – it’s just true. I mean, I have been hit on before. Usually towards last call.
The only thing I can think is that it’s the braces.
I don’t know if it’s a brace fetish or just sympathy. But I’m pretty sure that’s it. One guy even said “You look cute in those braces.” Like they were some kind of fashion accessory. Of course, this could have been from lack of skill because he also said “What you doin tonight?” Um, did you just leave the verb out of that sentence?
So yeah, the caliber of these guys is not what I would consider quality. But that’s beside the point – it’s just weird that suddenly I’m getting comments. Like what’s changed besides the 10 pounds I’ve gained?
And just in case you’re wondering - my response to that grammatically incorrect question was “I’ll be with my kids.” The fact that he didn’t anticipate that was going to be my response also demonstrated that he lacked observation skills. Since the kids were with me when he asked.
Ohhh yeah, bring on the winners!
I’ve been getting hit on.
This never happens to me. Ever. And that’s not one of those statements that’s meant to prompt a compliment – it’s just true. I mean, I have been hit on before. Usually towards last call.
The only thing I can think is that it’s the braces.
I don’t know if it’s a brace fetish or just sympathy. But I’m pretty sure that’s it. One guy even said “You look cute in those braces.” Like they were some kind of fashion accessory. Of course, this could have been from lack of skill because he also said “What you doin tonight?” Um, did you just leave the verb out of that sentence?
So yeah, the caliber of these guys is not what I would consider quality. But that’s beside the point – it’s just weird that suddenly I’m getting comments. Like what’s changed besides the 10 pounds I’ve gained?
And just in case you’re wondering - my response to that grammatically incorrect question was “I’ll be with my kids.” The fact that he didn’t anticipate that was going to be my response also demonstrated that he lacked observation skills. Since the kids were with me when he asked.
Ohhh yeah, bring on the winners!
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