Weirdos

                      
My kids had a friend sleepover this weekend, which was a blast for them. They were exhausted by yesterday evening. They got out of the shower and I was braiding my daughters hair and we were all sitting around talking. I asked the girls if they had a fun time and they said they did. I asked if their friend had fun and my daughter said she did. Then she said, "I don't know if she was used to us because we're really weird." I thought about that for a minute, "What does that mean?" "We just act like weirdos. I like it that way. We are very funny and we laugh a lot. It's better than just being normal." I turned to my 6 year old, "You think we're weirdos?" She looked up and gave me a big joker smile and screamed, "YESSSS." She is weirdness personified.

I never really think about the fact that we are a little strange and eccentric but my kids are definitely right. If we are going to get milkshakes, we will make up a song about milkshakes. We make up songs about everything.  Sometimes I sing out loud in public and I often talk to myself. It is not usual to see someone randomly break out in dance at my house. We put pretzel sticks up our nose and in our ears and chase each other around. We have a different sense of humor. I have a very dry and dark sense of humor. That's why I love my husband. He finds me incredibly amusing, he laughs at my jokes - he gets it. You have to be slightly off to get my sense of humor.

 I was born into it. I never had a chance. My father is incredibly eccentric and funny. His personality is over the top, he is like a character from a movie. I always tell him that he should hire someone to follow him around with a camera because the things that he does and the things he says are comedic gold. He could legitimately have his own reality show. When you live with strange people, you become strange too. It stays with you. It becomes part of who you are. Consequently, all of my siblings are weirdos and their children and spouses will be destined for the same fate. My husband was relatively normal when he married me but the weirdness has begun to creep in and now he fits in with the rest of us.

I'm glad my daughter likes the fact that we are a little strange and quirky. It does make life funny and interesting. Normal is definitely overrated. Weirdos unite!

Money Again

                                      
The other day I was sitting next to my kiddos while they did their homework and I was going through the 1 million papers they bring home and there was a note that we owed $9 for my 6 year old's field trip. So I got my check book and started to write it out. My 8 year old looked up at me and said, "Oh - that reminds me, I need you to add $5 to my lunch account." "I just gave them a check for $20 last week." She shrugged. "Are you buying extra things at lunch?" She told me she wasn't. I need to call the school because I'm not sure I believe her. "Oh, and I need $20 for a yearbook and if you want me to get my name on it then it's 5 more dollars AND we just got Scholastic catalogs and I REALLY, REALLY want this. It's only $12.95." She opened the catalog and pointed to a diary with a lock. "You have 4 diaries already." "But this one is for BFFs, so my friends and I can write in it. My other ones are boring. Please can you buy it? I only need like $45."

Only $45? On a random Thursday you come up and ask me for $45? You are in 3rd grade. I looked at her and said, "Why don't you just go pick some leaves off the money tree that's growing in the backyard?" She rolled her eyes at me. "You have the checkbook out, why don't you just write a check?" I explained to her that you can't just write checks, that there needs to be money in the bank. She was like, "So?" and then she whined about all the stuff she wants and needs. I lost it on her. "Don't ask me for anything again tonight." She scowled and was angry.

I always thought babies and little kids were expensive. Sippy cups, diapers and all that jazz. The truth is, the older my kids get - the more expensive they get. The birthday parties they attend are a fortune. A $15 gift times 4-6 per month is a lot. Not to mention school lunch, and events.... Summer camp is coming up and that will be painful. They are also now at the age where they don't get into places for free anymore. They just will get more and more expensive and then I'll get to pay college tuition. Hopefully my student loans are paid off before that. I'd put these kids to work if it was legal. They could stock shelves, pack boxes, be a bathroom attendant. They have usable skills..... I'm just kidding. Seriously though, I am tired of writing checks.

4th Grade

                                     

A few nights ago I was laying with my 8 year old and we were having our nightly chat. I asked her how many weeks of school she had left and she said, "Just 5." "Oh my gosh, then you will be in the 4th grade." She was like, "Yeah, I'll be the oldest in the school." Their elementary goes up to 4th grade and the middle school is 5-8th grade. So after next year I'll be dropping her off at the middle school. Holy Hell. My kids are getting to the age where I can actually remember being their age very vividly, which is so cool and weird. She asked me to tell her a story (like she always does) and I asked her what about. "When you were in 4th grade." I thought for a minute and laughed to myself. "Okay. Well, my fourth grade teacher was a very plump woman and she had short, red, curly hair. She always wore pumps but she had really fat feet and the there would be a big fat bubble coming out of her shoes, like she tried to squeeze them in and they were too tight." My daughter laughed. She really did have fat feet. I used to watch the fat bubble around in her shoes when I should have been paying attention to the math lesson. It was very distracting. "I was very afraid of her because she was often cross but she was okay if you did what you were supposed to. She had the desks lined up in alphabetical order by our last name. I was near the back of the class and I sat in front of this boy named David. David was nice but he was one of those kids that ate glue, paper, pencil erasers and shavings. His desk was always in disarray. What I remember about David was that his nose was always running. I always had to pass papers back to him and he would smile at me with his big glasses, snot just dripping out of his nose, pencil eraser residue around his mouth and I would be grossed out." She laughed, "Really?" "Seriously, this is a true story." "The teacher would always yell at David and tell him to stop eating glue. I felt bad for him. One day the teacher asked David to come up to her desk and he was standing directly in front of her. She was talking to him about something and all of a sudden he let out a huge sneeze right in her face. Snot went everywhere on her face and everything. She paused for a minute,in shock. She turned red as a tomato. It looked like steam was going to come out of her ears. She growled under her breath, "David, blow your nose and go sit down." He did and then walked back to his desk all dejected looking. It was pretty classic." My daughter giggled - "Mom, that's gross." It was.

I thought about David for a minute. He was one of those kids that didn't have it easy in school. I hope that David is out in the world somewhere - good looking, cut, driving a Benz, married to a smokin hot wife with some obnoxiously smart and good looking kids. I wish that for all the kids who get dealt a crappy set of cards.

So, my daughter will be in the 4th grade. What a fun time that is. It's old enough to start being aware of the world, kids that age have a great sense of humor but are still pretty innocent. Boys aren't really in the picture yet (uggh-boys better stay away from my daughters for another 10 years). Fourth grade is mostly uncomplicated. I wish it could stay that way always.

Mo Money, Mo Problems

       

This morning my 6 year old came up to me and asked, "Mom, how much money do you have?" "Why?" I asked. "Just tell me." "I have 7 bucks in my purse and some change." She threw her arms in the air exasperated. "NO! I mean how much money do you and dad have all together?" I didn't know what she was getting at. It's not that simple of an answer. I said, "Well, we have some money in a checking account. That is for food, the house, your after-school, bills...that kind of stuff. Then a little bit of money in savings but we can't spend that money unless we have a big emergency. Most of our money is in retirement and we can't spend that until we are old. So basically we only have $7 leftover." That was too much of an answer. I didn't want to give her a dollar amount because I know that it would be used against me anytime she wanted to buy something. She thought about my answer. "What is retirement?" "That is when we are old and don't work anymore. You see, we have to work now to save enough money so that someday we don't have to work." Seems legit. She said, "Well when I grow up I am going to give all my money to my family." I thought that was so sweet. "Awww - you want to give your money to mom and dad?" She looked at me like I was crazy, "No - MY family. You know, my kids and my husband. But I might give you and dad a dollar...once a year."  Gee thanks, I'll try not to spend it all in one place. I am going to remember that when she wants me to pay her college tuition. She walked off satisfied. I never did discover the origin of her question but she didn't ask me to buy her anything so that was a win.

We are blessed and we make do. I can turn a little bit into a lot, it's a skill I acquired when we first got married, those were the lean years. A week before we got married my husband requested leave but his sergeant wouldn't approve it until we attended financial counseling on base. It was in this little building that looked like it was ready to be condemned on the top floor in the back office. The gentleman was a big, stocky African American man with a bald head in his battle dress uniform. He was a tough looking dude and he had this deep commanding voice. He had us sit down and he just looked at the two of us for a minute. "You are getting married next week?" We nodded, like the stupid teenagers that we were. He began to tell us all the things not to do. Don't get payday loans, don't get into credit card debt, don't gamble. He encouraged us to have a joint bank account and make a budget. He regaled us with a story about a soldier who kept a separate bank account from his wife and he gambled their money away. She found out about it and attacked him with a knife, slashing his face. This man began making a slashing movement with his hands and in his booming voice yelling, "Where's the money? Where's the money?" I was scared. He looked us both in the eyes and said, "Do you understand?" "Yes, sir." "Do you have any questions?" "No, sir." He leaned back in his chair. "Well, good luck." We walked out and walked down the hallway silently. I recall turning to my husband and saying, "We will never have separate bank accounts EVER and we will never fight about money." He agreed and it's been that way ever since. It's worked pretty well, there has been no face slashing thus far. We never have fought about money either. I have a girlfriend who used to say, "My husband and I don't fight about money - we both agree that we don't have any." I love it, that is my motto. Although, I can't say we don't have ANY. I still have that $7 in my purse.

Date Night

                                      
This week my daughter asked if she could have a friend over after school. I called her mom to make arrangements and she was like, "Actually, I would like to have both of your girls over this Saturday for a sleep over." Say what? That sounded amazing. My husband and I have not had a date night in quite some time so this was a lovely surprise. The kids were excited, so it was a win-win. We dropped them off in the late afternoon. They gave us a quick kiss and ran off. We talked for a few minutes and she asked, "Will your kids be okay at night?Will they cry because they miss their mom?" Yeah right. "No, they will complain when it is time to go home." They really have no problems leaving me. I am glad about this in a lot of ways. They are independent,  well-adjusted kids. They can have fun and be away from us and know it's okay and we're coming back. But a little piece of me thinks they are traitors.

After we dropped them off we discussed how we should spend our evening. I was like, "Let's walk around in our underwear, eat junk, say a lot of curse words and watch a violent movie. Then, we can sleep like crazy. Sleep like we never have before. Sleep all-night-long." Those are all restricted things when you have kids. It seems almost forbidden and dangerous to do them now. My husband laughed and said, "You wanna go to Barnes and Noble?" "Sure." So we did that. I looked at the new releases, I browsed through beauty magazines until I started to feel ugly, I looked at cook books. I was getting hungry so I said, "Let's go eat." My husband was like, "It's only 4:40." I didn't have a problem. "Great. We can beat the crowds." I instantly felt lame when I said it. Who goes to dinner at 4:40 besides senior citizens? I don't care though, I'm not that cool. So we went.

We sat down and ate bread and talked. We discussed work and the news and were generally boring. Friends of ours are due to have a baby this weekend and my husband works with the guy so we talked out that. "Yeah, I was telling him a bunch of horror stories about when the kids were babies. Like how C was in the car seat." I forgot about that. Our oldest daughter was horrible when she was in the car seat. Literally, every time she was in the car, she would scream. She would scream until she was red. She would scream until she would gasp for breath. We would drive 10 miles and then pull over and take her out and calm her down, then we would drive 10 more miles and we would nurse, then drive 10 more miles and take her out again. Sometimes I would just cry with her. She would scream and I would turn the music up and just sob. I had to emotionally prepare myself every time I left the house. When we finally got to our destination I would hold her in the back seat and she would catch her breath and tears would run down her face and she would look at me with her accusing baby eyes that said, "Why do you always torture me?" She did this for an entire year. I shuddered just thinking about it. I will file that memory away the next time I have a moment of insanity and feel sad that there won't be anymore babies in our house. "You are bad for telling him that." My husband laughed, "You think that's bad, one of my co-workers said all 3 of his kids were like that." Those poor parents. We enjoyed our meal and surprisingly talked about other things besides the kids. It was nice.

We got home and were trying to decide on a movie and I agreed to watch Hemlock Grove with my husband. It's a new Netflix series that's kind of creepy. I don't watch movies that often and when I do they are pretty tame so it was pretty shocking. Extremely gory, lots of f-words, 17 year olds doing cocaine, erroneous sex scenes every 10 minutes. They were going out to eat a lot, and I'm not talking about McDonalds. Colonel Angus made an appearance many times. I turned to my husband and said, "I actually really like this show and I kind of feel wrong about it." It was so bad it was good. It was the perfect pick for a non-kid night.

We went to bed and the house was quiet. The energy in the house seemed different. It is weird when the kids aren't here. It's like something is missing or out of place. I then remembered that I could sleep until 9 am and besides, they aren't missing me anyway.

Outgrown

                            

We had a nice day on Sunday. My grandmother turned 78 and we went to Charleston Place for breakfast to celebrate. I told my kids we were going somewhere fancy and they were excited. Not Olive Garden fancy, really fancy. They were so pleased. They put on pretty dresses. They were amazed by the beautiful chandelier and fountain. They sat down and laid their napkins in their laps and were served orange juice in wine glasses. The waiter called them miss. "Would you like some more juice, miss?" They raised their wine glasses, "Yes, please." They were so funny, they were little ladies. "Mom, we should eat here every Sunday." I smiled, "Sure-after we win the lottery." It was nice and relaxing and delicious. Afterwards we strolled through a graveyard near the parking garage. The stones were old and worn and the girls asked me to read them. I love old graveyards - people used to write books on their stones, "Here lies William F. Smith. Beloved son of  James and Sarah Smith. Departed this life on June 8th, 1740 at the age of 16 years, 6 months and 27 days." Those old graveyards are full of young people. It made me sad. Every time I read a stone my daughter would ask, "How did they die?" "I don't know -it doesn't say." Then I would read another, "But mom, how did they die?" I told her I didn't know and she got annoyed with me. Who does she think I am, John Edwards? I don't talk to the dead - I don't know, please don't hold that against me.

We went home and were lazy. I hosted my sister and her family for dinner but I hadn't gone to the grocery store so I made a hodge podge of random things that was left in the house. I made tortellini, mac and cheese, 1/2 a box of spagetti and sliced strawberries. She was very sweet and gracious but I felt kind of bad. I get to host again this weekend and make a legitimate dinner.

The night came quickly like it always does. The kids were bathed and ready for bed. I laid down next to my 8 year old and she read to me. Afterwards we sat and talked. We faced each other, forehead to forehead, nose to nose and she stretched out her body. "Mom, I am almost as big as you." I sighed, "I know, how do you feel about that?" She paused for a moment and thought. "I don't know. I'm afraid when I grow up and am in college, I will be so busy with school work and friends that I might forget about you." Keeping it honest. I ran my finger through my hair. "I am sure that you will. Just like now, when you are playing with your friends you don't think about me. But you know I am always here when you need me. It will be like that. That's okay. It's how it goes." I thought about that for a while. She is right. It's like this passage from a Jodi Picoult book, "I would have given anything to keep her little. They outgrow us so much faster than we outgrow them." I wish it would stop going by so fast. I don't want to be outgrown ever. 

Saggy Butts Unite

                                      
I've been traveling a bit for work and on Wednesday night, I was in a hotel room with nothing to do but watch the boob tube. It was 10 pm and I am laying in bed eating a gooey butter cake I had ordered from dinner. It wasn't a whole cake, but brownie size. It was still unacceptable. If you eat anything cake-like in bed you might have a problem. I had been on a PMS-induced carb binge all day. For dinner I had a plate of linguine and a loaf of bread. It was really bad, I was feeling a sense of shame and regret after that dinner.

So here I am, in bed with my cake and TV and I come across this lady talking about her butt. I was confused and intrigued at the same time. It was an infomercial for this workout called Brazil Butt Lift and there was this little man jumping around so excited, saying things like, "Luke ot her bot." They were squatting, bending, doing crazy dances. I watched the Brazilian butt infomercial for a whole hour. I couldn't stop, I was mesmerized. They had all these moms taking about their big saggy butts. It was sad. Give birth, get a saggy butt. It's like a present that comes with the baby. This one lady was like, "I started the Brazil butt lift a week after my son was born." That's setting the bar a little high, I think. That's a little too ambitious. She's lucky her uterus didn't fall out. They were like, "Don't you want the booty of your dreams?" I was nodding, alone in bed, inserting another piece of cake into my mouth. Then they were like... for only 45 minutes per day you can have the butt of your dreams. Only 45 minutes per day? Who has 45 minutes per day? People without kids maybe. That's 4.5 hours per weeks. I don't have time for all that. People always say things like, "If it was really important to you, you would make time." What a load of crap that is. I don't get to do anything I want to do ever. I'm lucky if I have enough time to get done the crap I don't want to do but need to do. So I was feeling discouraged by this. The butt of my dreams was slipping away before my eyes. Then.....it comes with a DVD that features a 10 minute workout, appropriately named Bum Bum Rapido for the busy mom who doesn't have 45 minutes today. Sign me up, here's my credit card, I'm doing it.

I did get it and I am going to do it. They encourage you to do a before picture to track your results. Yeah right, if anyone found that thing and looked at it they would turn to stone. They even encourage you to do the pencil test by seeing if your saggy butt can hold a pencil in place. I'm not doing that either. I can just imagine that conversation with my husband. "Honey, what did you just do with that pencil?" I'm going to put down the gooey butter cakes for a while as well. Before I get really out of control.

Lets Take a Walk

                                           
My husband and I have been working on making some healthy lifestyle changes. Nothing crazy, we're not going to start running over bridges or anything. We're really just making half-assed attempts to make ourselves feel better about ourselves. Like only eating out twice a week instead of 8 times a week. We have been trying to take a walk daily.

Tuesday evening was warm and breezy and after dinner we headed out for a walk and the kids wanted to ride their bike and scooter. My oldest daughter rides her bike down the drive way and asks, "Can I get a banana seat bike?" I was like, "No, you just got that bike 10 months ago. We paid $200 bucks for it. It's brand new." She rolled her eyes, "Well this bike gives me a wedgie and a banana bike wouldn't do that." My husband said, "Bike seats give wedgies. It's just one of those things." She protested. "Not uh, I rode my friend's bike before and it was a banana seat and it didn't give me a wedgie." I sighed, "Well, I'll buy you a seat cushion." She was getting angry, "You guys never get me anything!!" Way to speak in generalizations. I hate when my kids are ungrateful. They don't know how good they have it. "You know what? Some kids don't have a bike. There are starving kids in China. Be grateful for everything you have." I felt bad when I said it. Mostly for the starving kids in China. I don't give money to the starving kids in China yet I mention them casually. I'm horrible. Starving kids in third world countries: helping American parents guilt their children since 1953. She rode off and didn't talk to us for 15 minutes. Shes a diva.

As we were walking we came across a baby turtle crossing the road. He was headed for the yard of a guy who was mowing his grass. Not the smartest turtle. My kids asked if we could keep it. I was reminded of the turtle I found as a child that I kept as a pet and how I woke up one day and she was dead and her eyes had fallen out. I was traumatized. We've had enough pet death in our house this week so I told them no. We picked up the baby turtle and decided to take him to the pond. As we walked we made up a name for the turtle. We called him Tee-Tee. The girls took him to the edge of the pond and said goodbye. A pair of geese were a few feet away, sizing us up. My 8 year old began to get really upset. "Mom, the geese are going to try to bite us. We have to go now." This kid is afraid of everything.

We walked home. My 6 year old wiped out on her scooter 3 times. Really. She fell and scraped her knee, the palm of her hand...she was like, "I'm good." She fell again and got her elbow and hand again. Got right back up. By the third time I insisted on carrying her scooter and made her walk. She was just dripping blood, pulling the flap of skin hanging off on her hand. "Mom, I have lots of boo boos." She wasn't bothered. She is a warrior. We spent the next 1/2 hour cleaning the road out of her knees, elbow and hand and applying generous amounts of Neosporin and bandages. I was ready for bed after that. It's hard to semi-exercise, save turtles, and do first aid. It was way too much excitement for me crammed into 2 hours. I really need to slow down.

Books

                                     
I have been looking for books about "changing" to have in my house, something geared for the 9-12 year old crowd. I have been doing research, reading book reviews, and really investigating this. There are so many to choose from and I wanted to make sure it was appropriate and not super embarrassing. It was freaking hard to do. Some of the stuff they put out there is outrageous. This book for instance:
                                      
Granted, it's for boys but still. Could you imagine if your parent handed you a book with that on the cover? I would just want to crawl under the couch. I like their reactions. One kid is uphappy, one is puzzled, but the kid in the middle is a little bit too excited. I saw this and thought, "Thank Jesus that I don't have boys." This is the kind of stuff that is on the market in the puberty book section. It's just horrible. So I settled on the Care and Keeping of You which talks about a lot of different things - eating healthy, skin care, making sure to wash your feet and underarms because you will soon be a disgusting, smelly adult. No stuff about boys or anything icky. They had a section on bras and maxi pads but generally is not cringe-inducing. So my daughter has been reading it. We were at the breakfast table and she laid the book down on the table. My youngest was refusing to eat breakfast for some reason. My husband picked up the book and looked through the table of contents. "See, this book says you need to eat breakfast. You want to grow up to be healthy right? Look at the girls on the cover of this book. Don't you want to be big and healthy like them?"
                                                    
She was looking at him like he was crazy and she said, "Dad, they are cartoons." Haha. "Eat your breakfast." I don't remember books like this when I was a kid. I did read Are You There God? It's Me Margaret in the 3rd grade. You can always count on Judy Blume to ruin the innocence of children.

We purchased a lot of books this month. The kids had book fair at school and I spent an unacceptable amount of money. My oldest daughter has been reading chapter books for a while now and my 1st grader now reads so well. We were picking out books and she would only buy chapter books. Books with pictures in it are for "babies" she told me. So we purchased some more chapter books. We came home and had no where to put them. The book shelf is full, we have books stacked everywhere. I decided we would pack away some books to make room for the new "big kid" books. My oldest daughter helped me. We sat in front of the book case next to a big box. I began pulling books off the shelf. "Look, Quack, Quack you got this book for your 1st birthday." She didn't give a crap. We began to stack the box full of books. The Poky , Little Puppy, The Little Engine That Could, books that were once mine and my husband's. I laid my hand on the covers and thought out all the nights the children curled up next to me as we poured through the pages. They would lay their tiny little heads on my shoulders and listen. Now they read to me, or just read their novels silently. As I packed up the books, I felt a deep sadness. Those nights of reading little kids books to my children is over. I try not to attach emotions to things because I think that it means I have the potential to become a hoarder some day. It was so hard for me to do. I closed the box. My daughter asked if we were going to give them away. "No, when you and your sister have children I will give you some and I will keep some so we have something to read to them when they come to visit." It suddenly occurred to me that I am saving books for my eventual grandchildren. They will be awesome and well read. Just like their mothers. In 20 years.

Just the Two of Us

                                   
This past week was Sping Break which meant we let the kids run wild, play outside in bare feet and enjoy extended bed time hours. Early in the week my oldest daughter slept over a friend's house. That evening my 6 year old wanted to do something fun so I took her to play mini-golf. We go and get our club and golf ball and headed off. She was leading the way. She counted every stroke out loud. The first hole she got 6, I got 3. The second she got 5, and I got 2. She started to wise up pretty quickly that she was going to lose at this rate. On hole three she did three strokes and said, "One" and then another two more, "Two. I got two." I said to her, "I think you got 5." She laughed, "No, I got two. Put down two." So this went on the whole game. Every time I would question her she would just laugh and say, "Just write it down." Cheater. We saw turtles in the pond and a goose sitting on a nest next to hole 7. It was warm and we just laughed and had a good time. We played games in the arcade and then ate cheese fries and she drank an icee. It was a neon green. I told her that her poop was going to glow in the dark after drinking that thing. It looked toxic. We had a nice time.

The next day we got up early and I made her breakfast but I had a ton of work to do. I told her that she could watch a movie, play a game, read a book - whatever she wanted as long as she stayed out of my hair. I felt bad but that's how it goes. I was in my office all morning and she popped in occasionally and was just so sweet and understanding. I called her up at lunch time. "I am going to take you out to lunch today. We can go where ever you want." Her eyes got wide with excitement. "But mom, can we go some where fancy?" I said, "What do you have in mind?" "I want to go to the place with the grapes on it? You know, near the mall." "The Olive Garden?" She nodded, "Yeah, the Olive Garden." Then it occurred to me that my 6 year old thinks the Olive Garden is fancy which made me chuckle. I told her to get dressed and she left the room. I got up a while later to get dressed myself and she walked in wearing a pretty dress and sweater. She dressed up so she could go to a fancy restaurant. We walked in arm and arm and this child was beaming, she was so happy. The hostess asked if we wanted a table of booth and said said, "We would like a table please." We went to the table and she unfolded her napkin and laid it in her lap, like a little lady. Then we played tic-tac-toe on the kids menu. She ordered pizza and a side of mashed potatoes. An odd combination, in my opinion but when you eat at a fancy restaurant you can get mashed potatoes with everything. Afterwards we walked back to the car. "Thanks for going on a lunch date with me." She looked up at me with her big brown eyes, "You're welcome." Love her.

Something Fishy

                                

I went away for work this week and my husband was in charge. I picked the kiddos up from my dads house last night and as soon as I walked through the door the kids ran at me for hugs. They were both talking a mile a minute, they needed to tell me something urgently.

They told me that one of our hermit crabs died. They had food and plenty of water. We check them everyday but they got up in the morning and one had croaked. So they told me dad took them to the pet store to buy fish. They each got their own bowl and tiki hut for the bowl and they were so excited for me to see them.

I was very happy for them but I thought, "What a horrible idea. Those fish will last a week." My husband is always buying random things when I go away. I have come home to new vacuum cleaners, pots and pans, piles of toys for the kids.....and now fish.

So we headed home and on the car ride home the kids where talking about what they were going to name their fish. My oldest chose Henry Coral and my youngest chose Amy Ocean and they were brother and sister and we built and imaginary life and future for the fish. We get home and my kids bolt up the stairs. I am lagging behind. When I get to the landing my daughter asked me, "Mom, do fish sleep?" My heart dropped into my belly. I just knew. I went over and both the fish were belly up in their bowls. The kids are huddled around me waiting for an answer. I turned to them and said, "I'm so sorry guys, your fish died."

The look of devastation on their faces was overwhelmingly sad. My youngest daughter collapsed into a heap on the floor and began to sob. My oldest sat at the edge of the bed and wept quietly. "Mom, we lost 3 pets in one day. I am traumatized." I laid down and they both laid down next to me, one kid on each shoulder, crying their hearts out. I held them like that for a long time.

Finally I told them to take a shower so they could get ready for bed. I read online about what could have happened. I think the temperature difference between the cup the came in and the bowl must have been too different and that caused their demise. :(

The girls got on their pajamas and were acting so somber. "Mama, I never want another pet ever again." That's fine with me. I think I can arrange that.

Easter Time

                                  
It's only April 2nd and Easter has already come and gone. We will be celebrating Easter the entire month of April in this house because I've only had the decorations up for 9 days and I did not put all that effort in to only look at them for less than 2 weeks.

We hosted Easter dinner this year for the extended family and this week I kept so busy figuring out what to cook and going to the store and trying to make the house look somewhat acceptable. I got it in my head that I was going to make this lemon bar cheesecake. I saw it on the front cover of Southern Living and I just had to have it.
                                       
So the day before Easter we were busy boiling eggs and cleaning up and I started making this cheesecake. My goodness, it was such an ordeal. It had like 3 million steps. You needed the zest of 6 lemons and 2 cups of fresh squeezed lemon juice. Eveything needed to "chill". You roll the dough, chill for an hour. Make the curd, chill for an hour. The kids were helping but then they were like, "This is taking too long."

We had a huge shrimp scampi dinner and dyed Easter eggs and got the baskets ready. At 9 they were fast asleep. It was finally time to put the cheesecake in the oven. My husband was cubing cheese, I was doing dishes. We were working our buns off. We stuffed the baskets and I asked my husband to hide them. He was putting them under tables, places out in the open. "Honey, you have got to do better than that. Make them work for it a little." He was annoyed, "Why do you want to torture the kids on Easter morning?" "I don't want to torture the kids, it will be fun. We can give them tips. Besides, they torture us all the time." So I took over. I hid one on top of the fridge and I hung one on a hanger in the closet and covered it with a coat. I am a ninja at hiding Easter baskets. It was now 11 pm and I found myself outside digging up dirt so I could make some bunny prints in the house. I was so tired, I had no shoes on and still I was digging in the dirt and I thought to myself, "How long will we have to keep up this charade?"

Both my kids are super intelligent. Surely they cannot possibly still believe in the Easter bunny. They have to know that it is completely illogical for a giant bunny to come into the house in the middle of the night with candy to hide baskets and eggs. I don't care, as long as they pretend like they still believe, I will pretend to be the Easter bunny. They'll be home from college and wake up to bunny prints by the front door.

I chewed up some carrots and left them around for good measure. At midnight, the damn cheesecake came out of the oven. Approximately 9 hours after I started making it. It needed to cool on a wire rack for 1 hour and then be wrapped immediately and put into the fridge. I made margaritas for my husband and I and we watched some stand up comedy. It was awesome. I wrapped the cheesecake and then we climbed up to bed close to one. I was exhausted.

I drift into sleep and am awoken at what feels like a minute later, "Mom, mom - wake up it's Easter." I opened one eye, "What time is it?" My 8 year old said, "It's 5:30, it's Easter time." I groaned, "It's not Easter yet, wait until your little sister wakes up." Half an hour later they both were standing at the edge of the bed, staring at us with crazy candy-seeking eyes. I nudged my husband, "Get up, it's Easter time."

The kids hunted for baskets, we made them work for it but they found them and dug right into the candy. They each got new jump ropes and proceeded to jump rope in the kitchen while we made breakfast. The rest of the day was a whirlwind. We went to church, came home and prepared more food. Guests came and went. We had an Easter egg hunt. We ate and ate and ate.

Afterwards, I cleaned the kitchen. My husband fell asleep on the couch and the kids watched a movie. We went upstairs and the kids climbed into bed with me. We all stared at the ceiling in a food coma. "Did you guys have a good Easter?" They nodded. "What was your favorite part?" My oldest said, "Going to church." My youngest snuggled close and said, "Just being with my family." And all was right with the world.