In case you are having a semi-bad day and are looking for ways to cheer yourself up, don't try sticking a gallon of milk precariously in the fridge and forcing the door shut.
It won't make you more cheerful when you open the door to get a snack and the milk falls out, explodes, and splatters on everything. It really won't.
(In case you were wondering what the weakest point is in a gallon container of milk, it's that round circle in the side.)
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Going Green (or running out of it)
In the interest of saving trees (and honestly, saving money) Here is our Christmas Card. We wish you all a Merry Christmas, and hope that you are happy and well.
Mike and I have a budget. Really, we do. And I do all the spending. Except every once in awhile when Mike makes very large purchases.
So last week I started thinking that maybe our spending was a bit overboard, and I tallied up figures and receipts and lo and behold, Christmas is over. I had a few plans to buy some more presents for the girls and Mike, but we are done. We have to be done. And that's okay. We have plenty. But I am a little sad that I don't get to send this card out.
One of my friends says that she opens a dedicated savings in November and then puts $25 in each paycheck to save for Christmas. This is a marvelous plan. What do you do to avoid the Christmas crunch?
Monday, December 15, 2008
Perfect Week
I keep failing at having a perfect week. I think my highest point total has been 8. (If I weren't so lazy I could do some research and see what my real high point total is, but my fingers are tired.) This week I had 7 points. I fell prey to chocolate chip cookies and cold dark winter mornings.
So this week I'm going to be perfect. This means I'll have to go set up my bike trainer in the garage, or clear off my buried treadmill, because I haven't exercised yet today.
I figure this is the greatest chance I have to be perfect (and to catch my mom and Cristina). Join me in perfection (or at least the attempt)!
Good luck to you all. (Some of you haven't given me last week's total either. Don't give up! You can do it! Just add both weeks together when you post your points this week.)
Some people have asked about joining after the holidays. This particular point contest ends on Jan. 5, but I'll do something similar after that because this really has helped me to do better. Not awesome, but better, which was my goal. And I still haven't come up with an awesome prize. Any ideas? I think my mom will win, so maybe the reward will be a day of babysitting. Yes, you get to babysit my angels for 1 whole day.
Just kidding, that's a crappy prize. I'll keep thinking hard.
So this week I'm going to be perfect. This means I'll have to go set up my bike trainer in the garage, or clear off my buried treadmill, because I haven't exercised yet today.
I figure this is the greatest chance I have to be perfect (and to catch my mom and Cristina). Join me in perfection (or at least the attempt)!
Good luck to you all. (Some of you haven't given me last week's total either. Don't give up! You can do it! Just add both weeks together when you post your points this week.)
Some people have asked about joining after the holidays. This particular point contest ends on Jan. 5, but I'll do something similar after that because this really has helped me to do better. Not awesome, but better, which was my goal. And I still haven't come up with an awesome prize. Any ideas? I think my mom will win, so maybe the reward will be a day of babysitting. Yes, you get to babysit my angels for 1 whole day.
Just kidding, that's a crappy prize. I'll keep thinking hard.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
What did you eat this week? (Points post)
Hello contest participants!
I hope you are busy consuming fresh fruits and vegetables, not petroleum jelly, joint compound and toothpaste like my lovely Hannah.
Today, while I was eating breakfast, I heard the door shut. Usually Hannah locks herself into her room and then cries for me to let her out. After one minute I remembered the Petroleum Jelly incident and decided to check on Hannah. The bathroom door was shut. I flung it open to reveal Hannah sucking on the open tube of toothpaste. ARGHHHHH! I put in another call to Poison Control.
Here is my conversation with them:
"Hi my daughter just ate toothpaste."
"What is the brand of toothpaste?"
"Umm, Crest."
"How big is the tube?"
"Normal size. 6.2 oz."
"Do you have any idea how much she ate?"
"No." I have not been keeping tabs on our toothpaste consumption. I guess I will now.
"Half a tube? I'm just trying to get an idea of how much she ate."
"No, not that much." Getting defensive: "I just heard the door shut, and then a minute later I walked in and I could just smell it on her breath." (MMMM, minty fresh Hannah.)
"Well, give her a little drink of milk, which will bind up the flouride, to help her body get rid of it. And then I want you to call me back, my name is Ed, if she has any stomach problems in the next hour or so. Most kids suffer no ill effects from eating toothpaste."
"Okay."
My new friend Ed says, "What's your zipcode?"
Me, warily, "84067"
"And your name?"
Me, pausing. "Well, I already called once this week, and well, ummm, I don't want to be tracked, and so can I just, well, like decline?" (This is where I should have rubbed a plastic sack next to the phone and yelled, "Are you there? Are you there? I can't hear a thing! It's so staticky!" And hung up.)
"Ma'am, we don't track who calls here. You could call us everyday for months and no one would track it. So you can do that, but. . ."
Yeahhhh. Right. I've read those scary DCFS stories where they rip the children from the unsuspecting parents and invade every aspect of their lives only allowing the children to return when they are practically grown ups, and then only for short supervised visits.
"Well."
"If I don't get at least your first name I can't start a case and then you'll have to start all over if you have to call back. No one will track it."
Liar. "Okay, Stephanie."
"And your daughter's name?"
Yeah, they have the number I called from, my zipcode, my first name and my daughter's name and this guy is trying to assure me that no one tracks these things? I can just imagine him cross referencing this call just because I was so weird about giving my information.
"Let's see," he says to himself researching me on the specialized computer tracking system, "First she allowed her daughter to eat petroleum jelly and now toothpaste." He dials DCFS, "Hello Mr. X. I have a psychotic parent for you."
Yes, I'm paranoid like that.
Just for the record, and so Hannah can blame me later for her nervous twitch and other ailments, here's a list of things I have found in her mouth lately: (Yes this list will probably help DCFS build their case against me too)
Petroleum Jelly
Toothpaste
Powdered Sugar (resting on an old banana peel and last night's dinner in the garbage can)
Dried pieces of joint compound
Pennies and Dimes
Wet dish towels that stink
Chalk
Paper
So Mike and I are making a big effort to not leave things around, like the carpet, because that probably looks delicious too.
Anyway, I might as well have been eating toothpaste for all the nutritional value I've received this week.
3 points for eating right, and 3 points for exercise.
How'd you do? (And I meant to offer words of encouragement during these cold and dark months when the cookies are calling to you, not give a sad commentary on my lack of parenting skills. So Go Team! You can do it! Exercise! Eat Right!)
I hope you are busy consuming fresh fruits and vegetables, not petroleum jelly, joint compound and toothpaste like my lovely Hannah.
Today, while I was eating breakfast, I heard the door shut. Usually Hannah locks herself into her room and then cries for me to let her out. After one minute I remembered the Petroleum Jelly incident and decided to check on Hannah. The bathroom door was shut. I flung it open to reveal Hannah sucking on the open tube of toothpaste. ARGHHHHH! I put in another call to Poison Control.
Here is my conversation with them:
"Hi my daughter just ate toothpaste."
"What is the brand of toothpaste?"
"Umm, Crest."
"How big is the tube?"
"Normal size. 6.2 oz."
"Do you have any idea how much she ate?"
"No." I have not been keeping tabs on our toothpaste consumption. I guess I will now.
"Half a tube? I'm just trying to get an idea of how much she ate."
"No, not that much." Getting defensive: "I just heard the door shut, and then a minute later I walked in and I could just smell it on her breath." (MMMM, minty fresh Hannah.)
"Well, give her a little drink of milk, which will bind up the flouride, to help her body get rid of it. And then I want you to call me back, my name is Ed, if she has any stomach problems in the next hour or so. Most kids suffer no ill effects from eating toothpaste."
"Okay."
My new friend Ed says, "What's your zipcode?"
Me, warily, "84067"
"And your name?"
Me, pausing. "Well, I already called once this week, and well, ummm, I don't want to be tracked, and so can I just, well, like decline?" (This is where I should have rubbed a plastic sack next to the phone and yelled, "Are you there? Are you there? I can't hear a thing! It's so staticky!" And hung up.)
"Ma'am, we don't track who calls here. You could call us everyday for months and no one would track it. So you can do that, but. . ."
Yeahhhh. Right. I've read those scary DCFS stories where they rip the children from the unsuspecting parents and invade every aspect of their lives only allowing the children to return when they are practically grown ups, and then only for short supervised visits.
"Well."
"If I don't get at least your first name I can't start a case and then you'll have to start all over if you have to call back. No one will track it."
Liar. "Okay, Stephanie."
"And your daughter's name?"
Yeah, they have the number I called from, my zipcode, my first name and my daughter's name and this guy is trying to assure me that no one tracks these things? I can just imagine him cross referencing this call just because I was so weird about giving my information.
"Let's see," he says to himself researching me on the specialized computer tracking system, "First she allowed her daughter to eat petroleum jelly and now toothpaste." He dials DCFS, "Hello Mr. X. I have a psychotic parent for you."
Yes, I'm paranoid like that.
Just for the record, and so Hannah can blame me later for her nervous twitch and other ailments, here's a list of things I have found in her mouth lately: (Yes this list will probably help DCFS build their case against me too)
Petroleum Jelly
Toothpaste
Powdered Sugar (resting on an old banana peel and last night's dinner in the garbage can)
Dried pieces of joint compound
Pennies and Dimes
Wet dish towels that stink
Chalk
Paper
So Mike and I are making a big effort to not leave things around, like the carpet, because that probably looks delicious too.
Anyway, I might as well have been eating toothpaste for all the nutritional value I've received this week.
3 points for eating right, and 3 points for exercise.
How'd you do? (And I meant to offer words of encouragement during these cold and dark months when the cookies are calling to you, not give a sad commentary on my lack of parenting skills. So Go Team! You can do it! Exercise! Eat Right!)
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Don't laugh or I'll get the Vaseline
Once I made the mistake of laughing at Hannah when I told her to, "Come here" and she ran away. Now my stupidity has been rewarded with mischievous smiles and scampers every time I tell her to come.
I understand the implications. I can't set her down in the store or the parking lot. And she weighs a ton. My arms and back are killing me.
And did I say I laughed once? Well I meant multiple times. I tell myself over and over to sober up and be a responsible parent. But then I catch a glimpse of two bare cheeks dashing down the hall after we get her out of the tub, and I try to suppress my smiles, but it is futile.
I say, trying to be stern, "Hannah. It's time to get your jammies on. Come here."
She runs, yelling, "Baby! Baby!" and giggling as if she is the most clever thing since ipods. I did stop laughing when she ran into the living room and crouched down to leave a wet spot. Yeah, that's one I don't laugh at anymore.
I say, "Hannah, Come here. It's time to eat!" And she dashes down the hall like Michael Johnson, saying not so quietly, "Shhh! Shhh! Shhh!"
The other day I kept telling her to come and eat. I know you're supposed to physically act when they don't do what you say, but I was trying to eat my lunch and I was hungry, so I kept yelling down the hallway, "Hannah, lunch. Hannah, if you don't come you don't get to eat. Hannah, come now," while trying to eat and read the paper (I was practicing for a demonstration on non-effective parenting skills). Finally I stood up and walked down the hall to find Hannah in the bathroom, consuming Petroleum Jelly.
I paused in the doorway, evaluating the situation calmly, and yelled, "No Hannah!" She quickly scooped a fingerful into her mouth and tried to swallow as I lunged for the container.
Apparently Petroleum jelly is not delicious, because she gagged it up. Chunks of regular petroleum jelly look disgusting and slimy anyway, so imagine one coming out of a toddler's mouth.
Just to be safe I called Poison Control where they calmly assured me that it would only act as a laxative if she was still breathing. They then collected my information, claiming they would send me a sticker and magnet packet. I suspect that I am now on a list of "Idiot People Who Allow their Children to Eat Petroleum Jelly" which will be used against me when our country goes crazy and Socialists take over.
So I guess I should sober up and stop laughing because it is causing me no end of grief. Any suggestions on how to correct this running away problem?
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Thanksgiving
I'm late, I'm late, I'm late for a very important date!
T-I'm thankful for turkey, leftover turkey to be specific. Leftover turkey on rolls is heaven.
H-Hannah. I would like to write something sweet about Hannah and her loveliness, but she is at a stage where I love her best asleep. I'm thankful for her though. I love her mischievous half smile and the way she yells, "Hewooo?" into the house when we walk in the door.
A-Applesauce, homemade. Kenzie subsists on applesauce. I love that I made it.
N-Nouns. Where would we be without nouns? Up a gosh darn over, that's where we'd be.
K-Kenzie. Oh my gosh this little girl cracks me up. She loves talking to me and talking and talking and talking and she loves singing and dancing and making friends with random people, like the carpet layer and the cashier at the store. I'll always remember the moment I first held her and the world that I once knew crashed down around me and dazzled up brilliantly, reflecting the fact that I was a mother. I love her.
F-Forks. Actually, if I had to choose a utensil I would choose a spoon. It's more versatile. But there are no "S's in Thankful, so forks get to be thanked for their ability to stab meat. Good job forks.
U-Underwear. Oh, how I miss you regular cotton briefs in pretty patterns.
L-Love and life. I love how many wonderful and beautiful things there are in this life. Of course, this list wouldn't be complete without my one true love, Mike. I'm so thankful for the balance and kindness he brings into my life. He's better than leftover turkey and nouns.
We had a great Thanksgiving at my mom's house this year. My aunts and cousins came (minus Aunt Susan, Uncle Brian and their posse due to strep throat), and all I had to do was peel some potatoes and set up tables.
We had a wonderful meal, Kenzie fell in love with cranberries and Hannah ate the marshmallows on top of the yams, but wouldn't eat the yams.
After dinner I pretended to help clean up, but ditched out when my cousins began playing soccer. Kenzie wanted to play as long as she didn't have to run. I'm beginning to sense quite a few lazy bones in her body.
Soccer is so much fun! That was the first time I've ever played. My cousin Stetson has mad skills, but I once kicked the ball away from him (He's like 12 or something), but only for a minute.
Anyway, then we ate pie and laid around playing "Fat Dog," a time honored family tradition.
Yes, my mom made 10 pies. She really is the patron saint of pies. They are all deliciously awesome too. We always try to convince her to stop delivering mail and start a pie shop, but she seems to think that slaving away over a hot stove for money would take the joy out of pie making. Go figure.
Fat Dog at it's finest.
mmmm, whipping cream.
Soccer totally rocked. I've found a new love.
T-I'm thankful for turkey, leftover turkey to be specific. Leftover turkey on rolls is heaven.
H-Hannah. I would like to write something sweet about Hannah and her loveliness, but she is at a stage where I love her best asleep. I'm thankful for her though. I love her mischievous half smile and the way she yells, "Hewooo?" into the house when we walk in the door.
A-Applesauce, homemade. Kenzie subsists on applesauce. I love that I made it.
N-Nouns. Where would we be without nouns? Up a gosh darn over, that's where we'd be.
K-Kenzie. Oh my gosh this little girl cracks me up. She loves talking to me and talking and talking and talking and she loves singing and dancing and making friends with random people, like the carpet layer and the cashier at the store. I'll always remember the moment I first held her and the world that I once knew crashed down around me and dazzled up brilliantly, reflecting the fact that I was a mother. I love her.
F-Forks. Actually, if I had to choose a utensil I would choose a spoon. It's more versatile. But there are no "S's in Thankful, so forks get to be thanked for their ability to stab meat. Good job forks.
U-Underwear. Oh, how I miss you regular cotton briefs in pretty patterns.
L-Love and life. I love how many wonderful and beautiful things there are in this life. Of course, this list wouldn't be complete without my one true love, Mike. I'm so thankful for the balance and kindness he brings into my life. He's better than leftover turkey and nouns.
We had a great Thanksgiving at my mom's house this year. My aunts and cousins came (minus Aunt Susan, Uncle Brian and their posse due to strep throat), and all I had to do was peel some potatoes and set up tables.
We had a wonderful meal, Kenzie fell in love with cranberries and Hannah ate the marshmallows on top of the yams, but wouldn't eat the yams.
After dinner I pretended to help clean up, but ditched out when my cousins began playing soccer. Kenzie wanted to play as long as she didn't have to run. I'm beginning to sense quite a few lazy bones in her body.
Soccer is so much fun! That was the first time I've ever played. My cousin Stetson has mad skills, but I once kicked the ball away from him (He's like 12 or something), but only for a minute.
Anyway, then we ate pie and laid around playing "Fat Dog," a time honored family tradition.
Yes, my mom made 10 pies. She really is the patron saint of pies. They are all deliciously awesome too. We always try to convince her to stop delivering mail and start a pie shop, but she seems to think that slaving away over a hot stove for money would take the joy out of pie making. Go figure.
Fat Dog at it's finest.
mmmm, whipping cream.
Soccer totally rocked. I've found a new love.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Points Post
Hello all you fellow sufferers. I mean, go-getters. This week I was pleased to only give in thrice to the siren call of dessert. Exercise, meh. (I'm totally finding a way to use that word in every post. "Meh." It's just so expressive.) Since my knee has been bothering me, I've been really unmotivated to exercise. Especially since exercising non-painfully involves driving to the pool, getting wet, swimming back and forth, back and forth, with only my painfully boring thoughts for company, and then driving home.
So I earned 4 points for eating and 2 points for exercise. 6 points. Did I say I was going to win? I meant that I was going to limp along barely surviving while you all made me look bad.
Hope you had a wonderful dessert-full Thanksgiving!
(I did. My mom made these pies. mmmmm.)
So I earned 4 points for eating and 2 points for exercise. 6 points. Did I say I was going to win? I meant that I was going to limp along barely surviving while you all made me look bad.
Hope you had a wonderful dessert-full Thanksgiving!
(I did. My mom made these pies. mmmmm.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)